Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 The following is a presentation of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation... BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP!BAP! BBBBBAAAAA-BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!! An absolutely blinding and deafening wash of pyrotechnics blasts out from the entrance area and ramp, greeting the home viewing audience… The magnificent architeched props are highlighted in glows of white, red, yellow… The Gothic archway for the entrance, the organ, the altar… And the stained-glass windows that, somehow, don’t seem like they’ll survive the night intact. The effect completed with candelabras scattered throughout the floor area, and the ring-level fans seated in pews, but only using the edges… If that… Faith No More’s “Ashes To Ashes” cues up, but is barely heard over the boiling, seething crowd. “A sea of humanity unlike no other with us here tonight!” The voice of Cyclone Comet identifies itself via voiceover as we pan this crowd… And it’s almost immediate that we can identify where we are: The Union Jack waves proudly in several sections of seating, and by the signs: “TOXXIC: OUR Straight-Edge Sensation!” “Bring back the F’n Night!” “Cheesy Secret Agents Are OUR Bag, Baby!” (“The Brits seem a little behind the times on poor Johnny Dangerous,” Comet whispers over the open mic, apparently to his tag partner Bobby Riley.) “There’s no bowling in baseball!” (“And the Brits love their cricket,” Comet continues. “Yeah… And apparently the movie ‘A League Of Their Own’,” Riley retorts in a soft voice.) And other signs showing support for Rev-0, apparently by association to the Nottingham native that serves at its leader. The camera view sweeps down, seeing that damn near NONE of the 20,000+ seats are empty! The camera pans down, finally focusing and zooming in on our icons of announcing excellence: Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley. “We greet you once again from the Manchester Evening News Arena, lady and gentleman citizens, for this Pay-Per…” “Where are we, Comet?” Riley asks. Comet blinks a couple of times as his announcing compatriot derails his train of thought. “I’m sorry…?” “Where are we at?’ “Like I said, we’re at the Manchester Evening News Arena.” “Yeah, but where is that at?” Comet opens his mouth for a moment, then just looks hard at his partner (in career, not in life). Riley blinks, then shrugs. “Some of the fans might need to know,” Riley covers quickly. “… Riiiiight… Anyway, as I was trying to say…” “Why won’t you tell me, Comet?!?” “Because,” Comet replies, in those measured, vaguely calmed tones that only parents seem to know about, “You are a big boy, and you need to figure these things out on your own.” “Right,” Riley answers, but by the tone of his voice, you know he really doesn’t understand. He then turns around to a nearby fan. “Where are we at?” The fan obliges… By smacking him in the head with a foam cricket bat. “Uhm, ow?” “That was almost worth it,” Comet says, chuckling. “Anyway, loyal citizens… This is the time. We’re here, in Manchester, England…” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Hey!” Riley yells, hurt. “You’ll tell them, and not me?” “…And this is Ashes 2 Ashes, 2004!” Comet finishes without missing a beat. The crowd ignites once more, knowing that they’re at one of the premier events of the year. “I am Cyclone Comet, and he’s…” “Bobby Riley!” he himself finishes, then smirks. “C’mon, Comet… That’s something all the fans know! Geez…” Comet shakes his head, sighing. “Folks, despite having to deal with the occasional brainlessness of my fellow announcer-in-arms…” “HEY!” “…You are in for an absolute treat of a Pay-Per-View tonight! In the biggest of what could be called at least 2 main events tonight, we have the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’, Toxxic…” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “…Defending the SWF World Championship against one Ann “Ichiban” Onita…” BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! “…In a Street Fight…” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “…Which could be said to be a match in Citizen Ichiban’s favor.” “It is a possibility,” Riley states, “But Toxxic has an even bigger psychological advantage as he will have a practical hometown advantage with the crowd firmly behind him.” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “So there is something to, what I’ve heard you call in the past, ‘cheap hometown pops’ Bobbo?” “Only when The Hot Commodity is involved!” Comet just shakes his head. “Unfortunately you might be right, Bobbo… Toxxic did come out earlier to play up the home crowd, pulling from every quarter for advantage in, what is quite likely, the biggest match thusfar in his young career…” Highlights from the impromptu Toxxic promo show… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Toxxic really letting things be known like only he can, Comet!” Riley chuckles. “Well be that as it may, the other match tonight that could be pinned as Main Event caliber sees two legends in their last hurrah… The Suicide King…” BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! “…And ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens…” The pop is positive, but light… More a testament to Mark’s status and history, less to the baseball schtick… “…In a Hell In A Cell!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! That pop can be wholly attributed to people just loving violence in its purest form. “I have no idea what Stevens was thinking even suggesting this match!” Riley cries. “Even though his team beat King’s at Genesis, King is in tip-top physical shape! And this time, the Slammer doesn’t have the hitters in front and behind him like he did at Genesis, to protect him!” “True,” Comet concedes, “But Grand Slam has hardly been heard from or seen since… He hasn’t wrestled. It could very well be that he’s been resting up, getting himself in shape for what will be the last match in his storied career!” “So we’re in agreement that King will retire Mark tonight.” “No, Bobbo… Citizen Stevens has already said that this will be his last match.” “So he knows King will retire him tonight too?” A sigh from Comet. “No, Bobbo.” “But…” “Also tonight!” Comet shouts, blissfully cutting Bobby off, “We have Nathaniel Kibagami…” SIIIIIIIIIII-LENT… BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! (“The crowd’s quite split over Kibagami it seems,” Comet whispers.) SIIIIIIIIIII-LENT… BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! SIIIIIIIIIII-LENT… BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! “…against Manson, who apparently had issues with one of his own videos being used in Kibagami’s return!” “I’d have issues if I had Manson’s career too…” “Shut… Up! We’ve also got Todd Cortez and Sean Davis…” Another minor association pop, at least for Davis. “In a ‘Mystery Man’ tag match… ‘The Icon’ Max King against Landon Maddix in a ‘Royal Beating’ match…” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Man the people here love the violence… Or maybe it was a cheap royalty pop… “…for the ICTV Title! Plus, we’ve got 3 other titles up for grabs tonight, including our opening match!” The screen fades to black, with Comet’s voice (obviously recorded earlier) narrating as still shots slowly fade on and off the screen… “The current Hardcore Gamers Champion Carnage won the title on October 18 from Sean Davis, after somehow doing the near-impossible: Fighting his way back from getting hit with the Cyclone Driver…” Davis hits the C.D…. The picture fading to show Carnage rising to his feet… “…and punishing Davis with a facebuster onto a steel chair.” Davis in mid-drop, his face mere inches from the steel chair. “Carnage hasn’t looked back since, continuing his punishing style of wrestling… Hardcore defense or not...” Carnage locking Austin Sly in the Camel Clutch, Sly’s face contorted in pain… Fading to him throwing Davis out of the ring into the guardrail… Tombstones on Uncle Filthy, then on Sly… Then a Tombstone on Andrea Montgomery… “However, before Carnage… There was Christian Fury.” The picture of Christian Fury, parting the curtains in his return match, fades in. “Fury came back to the SWF like gang-busters, winning the Hardcore Title in short order within a month of his return.” Fury leaping down from the top turnbuckle, eyeing the chair on Davis’ chest as his landing point… “He soon lost the title due to a suspect rematch loophole in Davis’ contract…” A shot of Marcus Washington in the ring, contract and mike in hand… Then the Cyclone Driver on Fury by Davis… The title in his hands, raised high… ”…but Fury has been fighting hard to get this title back… And tonight, he has his chance!” The camera goes back live to the MEN Arena, the fans screaming their heads off for the upcoming match. Funyon slides into the ring, his weapon of choice for this match being his trusty microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he intones in only the way he can, “Welcome… To ASHES 2 ASHES… 2004!!!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Our first contest of the night is scheduled for one fall, and is for the S… W… F… HARDCORE GAMERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The arena lights drop down to nothingness… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Aw cripes,” Riley moans over the crowd, “Here comes the teenage drama queen.” “Hush, cretin!” The only illumination in the arena is the suddenly increased flashbulb activity... System Of A Down's "Aerials" softly filters over the house speakers, but the crowd… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …will not be calmed. The SmarkTron shows a slow-motion video of Fury leaping off the second rope, and ranaing over in the air to plant himself through Danny Dagda and the table he lays on. Just as the first verse is ready to play, a massive pyro explosion… BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …flares up at the entrance ramp, and the music switches to the guitar solo before the second-to-last chorus (the point right after they start screaming). And out from the archway… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! … comes Christian Fury, looking resplendent in his trademark black leather jacket and shades! He walks intently down towards the ring with kendo stick in hand, paying no attention to the love the fans give him as the SmarkTron flashes highlights from past matches along with the red stylized-script "Fury". “Introducing the challenger… Hailing from Cleveland, Ohio, USA… He stands 1 meter, 90 and ½ centimeters tall, weighing in at 104 and ¾ kilos… He is… CHRISTIAN… FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fury mounts the ring apron, and springboards himself in… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …much to the delight of the crowd. He lands, kendo stick poised to kick ass and take names. After a moment, he slides the kendo stick out of the ring, along with the removed jacket and sunglasses. He then surveys the crowd with a icy, blue-eyed gaze, then levels the same gaze towards the archway. He steps back to his corner, waiting for the his opponent. “Fury playing to the crowd once more tonight,” Comet observes, “And looking in very good form tonight, no signs of lingering injuries.” “Fury’s going to need all the help he can get tonight,” Riley responds, “Because he’s up against an absolute psychopath in a match with no rules, and no real escape. And even if his past injuries aren’t a factor, he’ll have plenty more after tonight!” ---------- A Pay-Per-View… A title match in a Pay-Per-View! It’s the curtain-jerker, but hey… I can’t complain. I smile a little to myself as I take a moment to listen to the crowd. The cheers, the chants… It’s the first time since that night I came back that I really took the time to hear the response I incite in an arena full of people… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! FUUUUU-RYYYYY! FUUUUU-RYYYYY! FUUUUU-RYYYYY! Good God, that’s fantastic! I smile faintly, and suddenly the lights dim down… “Well,” I think to myself, “Now it’s time to play.” I mentally prepare for what is bound to be one Hell of a match… Definitely the toughest since I’ve come back… As a white fog slowly starts to boil around the archway that marks the worker entrance for tonight’s festivities. I hear the house speakers kick up, and a soft voice whisper over them… “Let the bodies hit the floor…” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Let the bodies hit the floor…” It’s nice to know this crowd’s real blood-thirsty tonight… “Let the bodies hit the floor…” “Let the bodies hit the…” CRASH! CRASH! “FLOOOOOOOOOORRRRR!!!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! As I watch the archway, out walks Carnage… Man, this guy is HUGE! I mean, I’ve seen him on tape, and he looked big then… But… This guy is a literal monster! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! And the fans apparently love the anticipation of a war happening right here tonight. I watch him carefully as he makes his way slowly down the ramp, then stops… He turns his attention to the organ set up near the side of the stage. Odd. But it gives me a chance to really take a look at this guy… He’s wearing a ripped white t-shirt, black tights with flames running down the sides, black wrestling boots and black fingerless gloves. Black elbow pads, too. It doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary. But what strikes me is the mask. He wears a mask similar to Hannibal Lecter’s from "Silence of the Lambs". Frankly, it’s a little freaky… Doesn’t he know Halloween is already passed? He also has long, black straggly hair with numerous large bald patches… Like it’s been torn out in spots… Or maybe he tore it out himself? He looks like someone that just got out of a straightjacket and padded room. And… Oh… He’s carrying a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. This is not going to be very fun at all. Funyon raises the mic to his lips nearby. “Introducing next… From parts unknown…” Oh spectacular… “He stands 1 meter, 95 and ½ centimeters, weighing in at 139 and ¼ kilos…” Geez! “He is… The SWF Hardcore Gamers’ Champion…” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “He is… CAAAAARRRRR-NAAAAAGGGGGE!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The aforementioned Carnage looks up at hearing his name, and his eyes meet mine… His eyes… They’re wild… Like not much besides insanity and chaos lies behind them… And as quickly as that, he charges the rest of the way down the ramp! Apparently he saw something in my eyes he didn’t like, and is coming to make it go away. Funyon dashes his way out of the ring, and I ready the kendo stick to fend of this hoss. Carnage slides into the ring, and I’m ready as I swing down with the kendo stick… SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! My kendo stick cracks across the guy’s back with enough force to split a small country in half, but… He just gets… Back… Up… Uh-oh. DING! DING! DING! The bell just seems to set Carnage off. He swings the bat wildly… WHOOSH!!! …and I just manage to jump back out of the way… Getting clocked with a barbed bat would not be the way to start things off! He swings again… SWISH!!! …and again I just manage to juke out of the way… But in my haste to escape, I feel the turnbuckles on my back… Great. The eyes of my opponent are on fire as he closes in, bringing the bat up over his head, and swinging down, looking to split me from crown to crotch… BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! Only by the grace of the reflexes given to me and honed to the good state that they are did that not happen… That, and the fact I got my kendo stick up in time. BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Shit, people! I’m fighting for my life here, and you’re pissed off because there’s been no moves or blood yet? Fine! I recover from my block as he recovers from being blocked, and as he’s raising the bat over his head, I… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! …slap a quick strike to his masked face. I know it probably won’t do much except delay him slightly. His head snaps back just a little bit, but that’s all I need… I grab the kendo stick with a hand on each end, and… TTTTTHHHHHWWWWWAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! I drive the kendo stick straight under Carnage’s mask, right into his exposed throat. “Ulk!” is the sound I hear from him as he backs from the corner, giving me a little room. I drop my kendo stick, lace my hands together, and take a shot at a spinning double backfist… WONK!!! Damnit, that hurt! Whatever that mask is made out of is hard stuff! But… UGH! I realize that… I’m not going to get another chance… Right now… To try anything else… As he’s… FREAK! Picking me up… FREAK! By the throat… FREEEEEAK!!! Can’t… Breathe… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Ugh… Damn… Rgh, that fucking hurt! My body’s already screaming after one move… But I can breathe again… I feel Carnage haul me up by my hair, and I drive an elbow into the man’s… Monster’s… Chest… To no avail. I try another… And he grabs through my legs as I my move… Lifting me up… But instead of slamming me down, he starts kneeling, twisting me around… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SHIT! That hurt! He drove my right shoulder right into his knee, and now it’s burning bad… He drops me to the mat, and hooks my leg… ONE! TW… And I drive the shoulder up, a lance of pain shooting into my brain as a reward. YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Carnage hauls me up again… Damn, who does this guy think he is? Thinks after a couple slams, he can try to pin me? Whatev… SSSSSMMMMMAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Gah! I’m forced to a knee… Half from the force of that Mongolian Chop, half from the pain that re-shot from my shoulder because of it… I’ve gotta quit thinking so much about what I’m gon… Gak! ---------- YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The crowd lights into cheers as Carnage laces a massive arm around Fury’s throat, squeezing tight… He weaves the other arm around Fury’s torso, and pulls back, burying Fury’s back even harder into his knee! “Citizen Fury has been on the defensive pretty much this whole match thusfar,” Comet observes, “And now he’s at the mercy of the monster known as Carnage!” “Fury was never a true champion,” Riley snaps as referee Nick Soapdish comes into the area to check on the fading Fury. “Maybe he should see if he can get hooked back up with Kibagami and reform the Clan.” “For the sake of humanity,” Comet responds with a shudder, “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen…” Nick tries talking at Fury, but notes he’s not getting a response… He grabs Fury’s hand, lifts it up into the air… And jumps back as Fury lets loose with an almost inhuman bellowing scream. YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “By Ares’ crushing biceps!” Comet blurts. “Whatr the Hell was that about???” Riley yelps. Even Carnage looks a little surprised as he eases back just in the slightest… And that’s apparently the advantage that Fury needs as he powers himself to his feet, reaching back… And jamming his knuckles hard into Carnage’s temples! While his right-handed shot is basically blocked by Carnage’s mask… The left-handed knuckles find bare skin and drive into the temple of Fury’s opponent! Carnage releases his hold on Fury, stumbling back a little bit, rubbing his temple. Fury wheels around, grabbing Carnage by the wrist, and quickly wrenches Carnage’s arm over his head, endeavoring to drive Carnage to the mat… But it doesn’t happen as Carnage is just too freaking big and has too much of a stable base for such a simple move to work effectively. Fury keeps the hold on anyway, gritting his teeth as he tries to keep the monster at bay while he comes up with a good offense… But Carnage isn’t much for waiting around for his opponent to do something, so he reverses the arm wringer, and sends Fury flat on his back to the mat, howling in pain! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “Carnage deciding enough is enough and knocking Fury down a peg!” Bobby Riley chortles. “Ha Ha! I love it!” And Carnage looks down… Down… Down at his opponent, and decided to bring his foot down… Right on Fury’s shoulder! Fury chokes back a scream of pain as Carnage stops, almost savoring his opponent’s state… Then brings his foot down again… And again… And again! Fury’s screams just seem to drive Carnage on, until he hears something else… Something less agreeable to his addled mind: FREAK!!! FREAK!!! FREEEEEAK!!!!! His attacks on Fury stop, and he cocks his head just slightly, as if the idea of people not liking him is not understandable. Fury’s arm is still entangled in Carnage’s hand, but… “It’s almost like Carnage forgot about Citizen Fury,” Comet says with some amazement, watching the non-action in the ring. “This guy must be nucking futs!” Riley huffs. “He had Fury at his mercy, but now the crowd becomes Fury’s best friend… It’s a handicap match now, ref! Ring the bell! Disqualify Fury!” “Now look who’s nucking futs,” Comet mutters not-quite-under his breath. Fury is still sucking wind on the mat, eyes closed in pain… But his eyes crack open… Observing Carnage’s position, and rolls back on his shoulders with a grunt of pain, tucking his legs… Then shooting them up to slam his feet against Carnage’s arm! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Carnage indeed must’ve blotted Fury out of his mind, because his arm spasms back… And the rest of his body follows, like he was surprised! Carnage lets go of Fury’s arm as he moves back, shaking the stingers out of his own arm… Fury plants his feet firmly on the mat, pushing himself up… Definitely favoring the good shoulder as he does so. Carnage recovers from his ‘scarring moments’ with the crowd, and looks to want to charge at Fury, but Fury drops to the mat, hooking Carnage’s legs, and… No! Carnage steps out of the attempted Drop Toe Hold, and looks to stomp on that weakened shoulder of Fury, smelling blood… But Fury rolls out of harm’s way, and gets himself to his feet again! “Finally some attempted offense from Citizen Fury,” Comet calls, “But he’s still playing very much on the defensive.” “Fury’s overmatched and he knows it!” Riley quips back, “Carnage will wipe the floor with him once he tires out from all this running.” The aforementioned Carnage charges at Fury once more, but Fury sidesteps, then launches a quick heel kick to the head as Carnage can’t stop himself in time… SSSSSMMMMMAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The kick staggers Carnage back, but he still doesn’t fall! “Fury tries for the equalizing kick,” Riley fires off, “But that mask acts like it affords Carnage a lot of protection!” “No,” Comet whispers, “Really?” Fury looks to press the advantage, charging forward, getting his arm under Carnage’s arms… “Is Fury fucking insane???” …but nothing more as Fury quickly realizes that he can’t quite lift Carnage up for what looked to be a Sidewalk Slam! Fury tries again… Again to no avail! Fury aborts the slam attempt, grabbing onto Carnage’s arm to sling him into the ropes… But Carnage reverses fortunes, sending Fury careening into the ropes… Fury bounces back, and swiftly tries to stop his momentum before… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! SSSSSMMMMMAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Too late, as Fury’s face meets Carnage’s uplifted foot! Fury goes from standing upright to damn near falling to the mat on his head! But as soon as Fury’s back hits the mat, Carnage is down, hooking the leg… ONE! TWO!! THR… Fury’s good shoulder spasms up, breaking the count. YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “By Hera!” Comet shouts. “That kick nearly separated Citizen Fury’s head from the rest of him!” “That would’ve been so cool,” Riley chatters. “…You’re sick, Bobbo.” Meanwhile, Carnage hauls Fury up, much more easily than should be possible. He spins the rag doll-like Fury around, cinching his arms around Fury’s waist, and hauling up… …and over… And… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …the German Suplex remains bridged… ONE! TWO!! THR… Fury’s good shoulder spasms once more, just breaking the count again! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Another near fall by Carnage!” Comet utters. “Citizen Fury can’t take much more of this!” “He’ll have to,” Riley muses, then… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “Oooooh… It looks like he’ll have to take even more than the abuse he’s gotten so far…” “Oh sweet Aphrodite, no…” As our attention comes back to the ring, we find out what the crowd and our announce team see: Christian Fury, still on the mat, unaware that Carnage has gone and taken up his barb-wired bat… And Carnage is coming back to deal some hardcore punishment! “Oh Gods and Goddesses have mercy on his soul! Get up, Christian! Get up!!!” ---------- Ugh… Oh God… It all hurts… I manage to shake the stars from my eyes enough to see my surroundings… There’s the ceiling, at least… Oh… Okay, I get it. Taking a mental catalog of the damage: My right shoulder’s pretty well fucked, considering the abuse it’s taken already… My head’s ringing like a gong… Carnage is standing over me… My neck is… Wait a minute… Rewind that tape, play back the entire message… Carnage… Over me… And he’s got… The bat raised… Over… His… SHIT! Adrenaline finally decides to kick in as I roll in desperation… SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Damn! I feel the mat shake from the impact of that bat landing mere inches from where my body was… That would’ve been bad had that been my… SWOOSH… SSSSSMMMMMAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SSSSSHHHHHIIIIITTTTT!!!!! FUCKING HURTS!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!! …rip… SSSSSHHHHHIIIIITTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! GOD DAMNIT!!! GOD… God… Alright… Roll… SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Damnit! Can feel the blood… Skin kinda missing, torn… Roll! SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Gotta get up… Gotta… Fight the pain… ROLL! SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Christ, this guy’s relentless… Okay… Getting up… Turning to see… SHIT! Can’t roll… BLOCK! SSSSSMMMMMAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SSSSSHHHHHIIIIITTTTT!!!!! FUCK, MY ARM!!! …rip… SSSSSHHHHHIIIIITTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Gotta get out of here… Gotta get out… This is too much… FUCK! AGAIN??? Uhm… KICK? SMACK!!! SLAP!!! …Huh? Oh… Thank God! The bat’s on the mat finally. Ugh… Is that my blood all over the mat? Ew… Oh… SHIT! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Watching the world spin around and around… The view over Carnage’s shoulder… Odd rush of zero… SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Jesus, it hurts! Feel the leg hook, and the dull splatter of blood on my back… ONE! Shoulder… TWO!! C’mon, shoulder! THR… SHOULDER!!! Finally up! Shit! … Bad one… Carnage dragging me up by the hair… Feeling a little… Light-headed… Not sure why… But feeling the rush of wind… Ropes… Back at Carn… Catching me around the wai… Flying over him… And he let go… Flying over the ropes… CCCCCRRRRRAAAAASSSSSHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Ugh… Ugh… Ugh… Christ, where am I? I need to find out… I push myself up… Or… Wait… Why can’t I move? Why can’t I move??? I… Can’t feel anything… But… I’m getting lifted up… Spun… Facing a pers… CARNAGE… Suddenly, the lights snap back on upstairs… He pushes my head down… The padding outside of the ring… That bastard did a Release German that sent me out of the ring! But… I feel a headscissor… I’ve got worse problems now… Gotta scoot all my weight down… Good base… He lifts anyway… Shit, not enough! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! But wait… Bend the knees… And legs together hard! SMACK!!! Nothing… Try again… SMACK!!!!! I felt a little give there… He’s readjusting… One more time… Spread the legs more… And snap in! SSSSSMMMMMAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! Shit! Twist! WHAM!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Shit! Had to land on the bad shoulder… But I’m out of the move… Turning… He’s holding his head, but already recovering… Getting up… Gotta find something… A-ha! Chair! Running over to get it, fold it up… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Ugh… Damn, that bat got my arm good… Blood just oozing and dripping… Can’t imagine what my back looks like… Uh-oh… Here comes Carnage… He’s just a one-track mind…. Fucking psycho… But perfect for wrestling hardcore. I wind back with the chair… WHIFF!!! Shit! He dodged… Now where… TTTTTHHHHHWWWWWAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Oh… There… As I stagger… Boot to the side of the head… Ugh, my balance is off more now… But I’ve still got the chair. I hear him clanging up the ramp after me… One… Two… SWING! CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! A swing and a drive! Carnage goes staggering back down towards the ring… I’d better press this advantage while I have it… I trundle down after him, ready another swing… CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! I knocked him to one knee… Not so big now, are ya?!?! Now I’m gonna fuck you up for fucking me up, you fucking…! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! FUCK! Not good… He caught it… And his eyes are on mine again… Those eyes… And he is PISSED! He pulls the chair so hard I nearly tumble over, and the only way I can prevent that is to relinquish the chair. So I do, but still manage to lose my balance, and… CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fuck! Ugh… Damnit… I find myself getting up close and personal with the ground padding outside the ring, my back searing with more pain… I try to push myself up, but my shoulder gives out, putting me back down… CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Ugh! Gotta try to move out of the way… This guy’s killing me out here… Gotta… CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Ugh… Legs are a bit numb now… Back’s on fire… And Carnage is hauling me up… Dragging me up the ramp… Towards the organ? The same one he was looking at on his way in… What’s his plan? What’s his idea? And how can I get myself out of being a part of it? He looks at the organ a few moments… FREAK!!! FREAK!!! FREEEEEAK!!!!! I hear a sound of frustration bubble from his lips, and before I can throw a move at the distracted monster… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! I feel the imprints of the organ keys in my forehead… Ugh… Never knew music could be so painful… I can just catch Carnage’s face out of the corner of my eye… He’s looking at the pipes of the organ, rising towards the ceiling… Damn thing did make a sound, didn’t it… It’s then that I see something chilling, disturbing, and that doesn’t bring hope to my chances of winning this match… A smile crossing Carnage’s lips… ---------- Carnage looks down at the organ keyboard for a moment, before… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Carnage slams Fury’s head into the keys again, seeming to like the fact that the organ actually works… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “It seems Fury’s becoming a muse for Carnage’s creative energies,” Riley states smugly… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “This is absolute insanity!” Comet berates. “Carnage is just toying with Citizen Fury!” WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Come on, Christian! Fight him!” WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! But there seems to be no sign of fight from Fury… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …as his head is used… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …to compose a symphony… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …of pain… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! WHAM!!!!! BBBBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! WHAM!!!!! BBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! The last cry comes from the crowd as it becomes evident the keys are smeared with crimson, Carnage having slid Fury’s head back and forth along the length of the keyboard like some hardcore virtuoso. “By the Gates of Valhalla! Citizen Fury has been busted open again! How much more can he take???” And indeed, as Carnage pulls Fury’s head from the keys, we can see a decent gash drizzling blood, along with several smaller gashes. BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “Blood sport indeed!” Riley laughs. “Fury looks pretty bad now… But he’s looked pretty bad the whole match.” “Unfortunately, Bobbo, I have to agree with you for once… Citizen Fury has not looked at all good this match.” Carnage hauls the limp Fury upright, locking him in a front facelock, eyeing the ground in front of him… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “Oh blessed Hera, no…” Comet gasps. “Carnage going for the DDT on the metal ramp…” And indeed, that’s what Carnage seems set on doing… But suddenly Fury comes alive, grimacing in pain, and fires an elbow into Carnage’s gut! And another… And another! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Carnage once again backs off that slight little bit… Eases off the facelock just that little bit… Fury explodes into action, driving a hand into Carnage’s elbow to release the facelock fully. But Carnage is not going to be denied a chance to inflict more punishment as he recovers and throws a loaded cross to Fury’s face! SMACK! Fury staggers slightly, but recovers himself and lays into Carnage’s torso with punches… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Punches that are actually starting to stagger Carnage! Punches born of desperation and adrenaline and… Well… Fury unleashed… “Citizen Fury showing he just has no quit!” “Damnit, Fury! You should’ve just quit! Now Carnage is going to tear you limb from limb!” Fury sets upon Carnage like some animal that’s been locked up, abused, and finally found the cage door open one night… Punch after punch, kicks thrown in for good measure… Each impact sees Carnage actually moving back, towards… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “Comet?” “Yes, Bobbo?’ “How come I see…?” “I see it too…” Fury keeps laying into the Masked Monster, eyeing something behind him with a smile… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Fury keeps pressing the big man back… Back… With each kick and punch doing its work… And then Fury pauses his attacks, watching Carnage wobble slightly… He plants, swinging his non-planted leg up and around, his aim true… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! And Fury finds himself face-to-face with a very aware, very irate Carnage… Who happened to catch his leg mid-kick! “Uh-oh,” Riley intones. “Someone made Carnage mad!” Fury hops around for a moment, looking rather foolish, but then… TTTTTHHHHHWWWWWAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! “Enzuigiri!!!” Comet blurts out. “Where in the Seven Hells did that come from?!?!” Carnage is forced to let go of Fury’s leg to try and keep his balance from a very surprising move from the challenger… Who hits the ground, and manages… Through a grunt of pain lancing from his bad shoulder… To roll himself backwards… And back to his feet! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! …And his eyes flare up with a plan… “Oh Gods…” Comet gasps. “He can’t be…” “I think he is…” Riley responds, tones hushed in amazement. YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Even the crowd has an idea what’s going to happen as Fury sets his feet… Then breaks into a run… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! Carnage is the only one without an idea, but he does see Fury charging him… He does what he thinks the best plan of action is, and tries to brace for impact, hoping that the challenger will take the brunt of the hurt… But self-preservation is the farthest thing from Fury’s mind as he leaps at Carnage’s legs… Plowing through them as the two combatants… Fall… Backwards… CCCCCRRRRRAAAAASSSSSHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “In the names of the highest and mightiest!!!” Comet screams. “Citizen Fury just put his own body in harm’s way, and Gored Carnage through the stained glass window prop!!!” The referee runs up the ramp, cameraman following as the fans are just off the charts! “I… I can’t… Believe it…” Riley stammers, in shock. “I knew Fury was desperate… But… He could’ve killed Carnage by putting him through that window!” Comet sighs. “What about Citizen Fury?” “Meh… Oh well.” The ref finally gets to the entranceway, the camera close behind to show… “My God…” Glass… Everywhere there’s glass… All the different colors glinting in the backstage lighting… And in the middle of the destruction… Lie the prone forms of Chris Fury and Carnage. “Medics!” Comet screams. “We need medical attention out here… NOW!” Unbeknownst to Comet, the medics were already staged close by, and when they heard the glass shatter… Several medics burst into the area, stretchers dragged behind… One leans down, checking on Carnage… …who suddenly comes to, and grabs the med tech by the throat, eyes wide! BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! FREAK!!! FREAK!!! FREEEEEAK!!!!! “Oh no!” Comet cries. “Leave him alone, Carnage! He’s just doing his job!” Carnage eyes the tech for a moment, then shoves him back and sits up, looking around, seeing all the med techs… The prone Fury… Then his eyes light on the stretchers… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! “I’d like to thank the medical staff here at the arena for being efficient and giving Carnage the tools to finish the job he needs to do!” Riley shouts, laughing. “This could get really, really ugly…” Comet utters as Carnage slowly stands, walking to one of the stretchers, picking it up… And turning back towards the unmoving Fury. “Witness the end of Christian Fury!” “Shut up, Bobby!” Carnage stands over Fury’s prone form, hefting the stretcher over his head… Working to set his feet in the broken glass… And Fury suddenly lashes out… Or rather, does a quick spin in the slick glass, and levels a double-footed kick into Carnage’s… Erm… Happy place! OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! …And Carnage slips back in the crushed glass, but not quite down. Fury rears back, and kicks out at Carnage again… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …And once more, Carnage starts to skid slightly, but doesn’t fall. Fury goes for the old ‘third time is a charm’ trick, but this time kicks at Carnage’s knees… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM-CCCCCRRRRRAAAAASSSSSHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! BLOOD-SPORT!!! …And down goes Carnage! Flat back in the smashed glass! “Well,” Comet says with a cringe, “That’s a way to prevent yourself from getting pasted by a stretcher-wielding madman.” “Fury should be glad this is a hardcore match and that he doesn’t get disqualified,” Riley murmurs. The aforementioned Fury manages to get himself up to his feet, his eyes on fire… He grabs up the stretcher abandoned by the slowly-recovering Carnage, and sets his eyes down…. Watching Carnage start to roll over to push himself up… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Carnage gets planted back into the glass, but… Still tries to push himself back up… “Citizen Fury looking to extract a little revenge on Carnage now!” Fury rears back, swinging the stretcher down hard… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fury looks at the slowly-deforming stretcher, and must’ve decided that it wasn’t bent enough as… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP-CCCCCRRRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fury discards the now snapped-in-half stretcher, and hauls Carnage up to his feet. ---------- This guy is SO gone… I haul him up, shoving him back through the window I Gored him through before… Watching with detached happiness as he takes a few more shards of glass with him as he goes, I follow through, looking to finish this thorn in my side once and for all. I pass by candelabra, and grab one up to take with me. Carnage is getting up, but not for long as I swing down… CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!! Damnit! The fucker moved! The candles go flying, little flames scattering across the floor… No matter, as I swing again… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! There we go! I put him back floor with that smack to the back, and now he’s floundering like a fish… Beautiful… I swing again… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! And again… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Again… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! I toss the candelabra to the floor, kicking Carnage hard in the side, then pushing to flip him over… I drop, hooking the leg… ONE! TWO!! THR… And Carnage somehow powers the shoulder up! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fuck that! Fuck him! The red comes back into my vision as I straddle this guy and start beating the Hell out of his masked face… “STAY…!” CRACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “THE…!” CRACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “FUCK…!” CRACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “DO… ACK!!!” Suddenly, his hand… Locks around… My throat… Tight… And his eyes are open… Bloodshot… Gotta… Breathe… Soon… He slides out… From under… And slowly stands… Then lifts… Me up… Pavement… Could be… Real bad… Gotta… Kick… SMACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Gotta… Again… SMACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Little… Lower… SMACK!!! OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! THUMP!!! I get… Dropped… But more controlled… Gasp… Gasp… Okay… Now that I can breathe… Heh… Nutshots work wonders… And since he’s staggered… A quick… WHACK!!! …Kick to the stomach… He’s doubled over… Quick ¾ headlock… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …Drop to a knee… WHAM!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! SHIT!!! Bad shoulder… Damnit! Gotta keep going… Shit! He pushed me off! Gotta… SMACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Ugh… Fuck, right into that altar… Rolling over… Whole body’s running kinda slow... And Carnage… Shit! Gotta try to scramble up, and…Too late, as Carnage catches me, hauling me up… But I can tell he’s running a little slow too… He lances out with a leg, and I… WHAM!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Too slow! I find myself flat on my back, Carnage over me… And flipping me over… Then a pause, which I try to use to push myself… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! An absolute shock of pain through my back pushes me back down… Candleabra, I surmise… As I feel a massive weight on my back… Oh shit, he’s… Arms on his legs… Arms under my chin… UGH! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Camel… Clutch… Damnit! It fucking hurts! Gotta… Get out somehow… Don’t know how… I feel his breath… Right on my head…. Wait… That’s it! He yanks back harder… God… It hurts… Gotta… Hold on… Gotta… Push forward… Let him try to yank back more… Then… One… Two… Two… Uhhh… … What was I… Feel… More pressure… THREE!!! I help him… By throwing my head back… Hard as I can… CRACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Seeing… Stars… But… Wait… No pressure… No pressure... It worked! I feel him on my back, his arms are still close… But my arms are free… I swing them forward, then back… SMACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Clap to the ears… SMACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Again! SMACK!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! And finally… His arms are away from my neck… And he’s lightened his load on my back enough… I can scramble out and away… I know he’s already recovering, so… Get to my feet, as quickly as shaking legs can take me… I turn, see him charging… A quick spinning heel kick… SSSSSNNNNNAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …That sets him up… Just where I want him… And I’m not sure how it happens… The mind’s blurry, but the body has its own memory… And it decides it wants to pull of… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Twist Of Fate. But again! He’s starting… To get… Up… “FUCKER!!!” I grab him up… Kicking him in the gut again… But he doesn’t keel over… Fine… Wanna be like that? I grab up the nearby candelabra, and in one motion swing… WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! THAT got him keeled over… Now… Time to finish the job… ¾ headlock… Kneel… WHAM!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fuck! Bad shoulder again! But not this time… Back up… I feel him fighting… Sit out! WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! I got it! I got it, damnit! And I drop Carnage to the ground… Oooooh, damn, that hurt me too… But… Fuck it… I drop down, covering, hooking the leg… The ref is down… ONE! TWO!! I feel him stirring under me… C’mon, ref! Hurry with that hand! … … … … … THREE!!! He pushes me off, but it’s too late! The hand came down, clear as day! DING! DING! DING!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Another ref runs over… Placing the title in my hands… And I raise them high… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The crowd sounds funny… Distorted… I hear Funyon, but he sounds kinda weird too… “Your winner… And… NEW… S… W… F… Hardcore Gamer’s Champion… CHRISTIAN… FUUUUU-RRRRRYYYYY!!!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! But slowly the crowd fades out… And so do the lights… The refs crowding around… And all is replaced with a cool darkness, with only one thought in mind: “I won.” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 The strains of ‘Ashes To Ashes’ are ringing out over the Manchester Evening News Arena as the fans are still red-hot after the Hardcore clash between Carnage and Christian Fury. However, suddenly Faith No More are cut off and a different tune starts up, one slightly more relevant to the current state of the SWF - ‘Rookie’, by Boy Sets Fire. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The reaction is mixed, but the vast majority of the fans in attendance are hostile towards the owner of said music - an owner who is already making his way out onto the ramp, microphone in hand, without waiting for the normal procedure of his entrance. “OK, OK, cut the music,” Toxxic says without preamble. The Straight-Edge Sensation is wearing his usual bulky trousers with his customised England soccer shirt over the top, and the sight of it sparks off a few ‘EN-GER-LAND!” chants. The World Champion ignores them however, and proceeds down to the ring where he rolls under the bottom ropes and climbs to his feet, then looks out at the crowd. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Toxxic stares out at the Manchester crowd, apparently waiting patiently for them to quiet down... and gradually they do so, until the straight-edger is standing in a virtually silent arena. “Thank you,” Toxxic begins quietly. “I don’t want what I have to say tonight to be tainted by any opinions you may have already formed of me; opinions that I have no doubt are valid, by the way. But I’d like to say something as me, as the man you know as Toxxic, not as the Straight-Edge Sensation, the leader of Revolution Zero or the man that so many of you hate.” He looks around to see how this is going to be taken... and for the moment at least, Manchester is waiting. Toxxic knows that now he has got their attention, he has only got one shot at this. So he takes the plunge. “You have no idea how glad I was when I heard that Ashes 2 Ashes was to be held in England.” “EN-GER-LAND, EN-GER-LAND, EN-GER-LAND!” “Seriously,” Toxxic continues, holding up one hand. “I left this country nearly a year ago, left the city that I had spent all my life in to go to America where I could live my dream of becoming the SWF Champion. I achieved that dream... briefly. I lost it again, and I fought as hard as I could to get it back. Now I have a new dream; to become the first World Champion since Genesis IV to retain the belt on Pay-Per-View... and I am glad to be here to do it.” A familiar lopsided grin flashes over the face of the World Champion, and for a moment the fresh-faced young rookie who exploded onto the SWF in February seems to be back. “I spent my 21st birthday several thousand miles away from pretty much anyone I knew or loved,” Toxxic says. “I have made a few friends, it’s true, but I am always an Englishman abroad in a world where people wear pants instead of trousers, where cars have hoods and trunks instead of bonnets and boots, where there’s a sort of person called a ‘redneck’, where people can order ‘corn dogs’ without being mocked and where absolutely no-one can correctly pronounce the word ‘aluminium’.” That gets a few laughs from the crowd in attendance at the Manchester Evening News Arena, but Toxxic isn’t joking around tonight. “I am proud to be British,” he tells them. “I don’t have any desire to bring the Empire back or any of that bollocks, but I am bloody glad that I have spent most of my life in this country, and have lived only a couple of hours from here in Nottingham. And like all of you, I have watched the men and women of our country represent us in sporting competitions across the world... and by and large, I have seen them fail.” The grin comes back, but this is rueful. There is a muttering in the MEN, but not overtly hostile. Quite a few of the crowd know that what Toxxic is saying is the truth. “The Olympics; we always try hard, sometimes we even win things... but we never dominate. Rugby; without Jonny Wilkinson’s left foot, we’d be nothing. We’re the also-rans of football,” Toxxic continues, plucking at the sleeve of his England shirt, “the World Cup and the European Championships. Semi-finals, quarter-finals... never the winners, never the runners-up. Tim Henman at Wimbledon... well, you get the idea by now. “I have seen these competitors fail badly and I have seen them fail gloriously. But I have always seen them fail.” The mood of the crowd is growing restless. It is always uncomfortable to hear the truth, especially when it is spoken by someone you don’t like. Toxxic senses the change, and knows he needs to act if he is going to achieve his goal. “There is something at which we can win though,” he tells the Manchester crowd. “When you saw Divefire, when you saw Edwin MacPhisto as World Champion, you cheered them!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “EDWIN!” *clap-clap-clap* “EDWIN!” *clap-clap-clap* “You didn’t just cheer them because they were nice guys, or because they were on top,” Toxxic says, starting to raise his voice, “you also cheered them because they were British! They proved to you, to me, and to everyone that we can do things right, we can win the big one!” “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The mood of the crowd is changing. Toxxic raises the microphone again. “I cannot change who I am for you,” he tells them sombrely. “I cannot turn the clock back. I am still the leader of Revolution Zero. I am still the man who broke the neck of a promising young rookie called Justin Bowers. And I am still the man who tried to end Nathaniel Kibagami’s career in the same way.” “SIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... “SIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... “There is one thing I can offer you though,” Toxxic says, trying to drown out the name of his nemesis. He unslings the World Title belt from his shoulder and holds it up for the entire Manchester Evening News Arena to see. “Here, tonight, right in front of you in Manchester, I can show you an Englishman at the top of his game, at the peak of his form and on top of the world!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” “Ann Onita has a dream too; she wants to be the first female World Champion ever,” Toxxic says over the cheers, “and ordinarily I would applaud that dream, but regarding her match against me I have just one thing to say...” ... ... ... ... “No.” Toxxic lowers the belt. “Not here. Not now.” (“TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...”) The chant is faint, but it’s there. (“TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...”) “Not tonight.” (“TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...”) Toxxic head snaps up, his eyes flash open and his raises the microphone one last time. “NOT IN MY... FUCKING... COUNTRY!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” The chants are swelling in volume now, filling the entire Manchester Evening News Arena. Toxxic looks around and smiles. Whether this reaction will survive contact with a wrestler as popular as Ann Onita is another matter entirely, but he has made a start. And with the World Heavyweight Title slung over his shoulder, Toxxic rolls under the bottom rope again and heads up the ramp to see what the evening has in store. MEANWHILE, BACKSTAGE... The camera cuts to the inside of a locker room. In the room sits “The Perfect Storm” Sean Davis, Marcus Washington, and Jet. Pacing around the room is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins with the belt firmly thrown over his shoulder. “I just can’t believe this!” starts Spike. “Why the hell would Toxxic take me out of the tag team match…for HIM?” “I don’t know,” says Jet. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Sean!” Spike points towards his stable-mate. Sean looks up at him, showing no emotion whatsoever. “We are former SWF World Tag Team Champions! We can crush Todd Cortez and whoever his mystery partner is in a heartbeat! But Toxxic has me taken out of the match! WHY?” “I don’t know, either,” the big man admits. “This must be his doing. He thinks he can just walk in to here and place himself wherever he sees fit? He must have gotten to Toxxic. I told you, Sean! I don’t trust him!” “Nor do I.” Sean glances briefly at Marcus Washington, who shakes his head slightly. “Why would Toxxic bring him into Revolution Zero without talking to us about it?” Spike turns towards Toxxic’s girlfriend and Revolution Zero manager, Jet. “Did he talk to you about this?” “No. He didn’t tell me anything until you guys found out.” “I’m trying real hard to understand this. Right now, we don’t need to bring anybody new in, especially him! This is unbelievable. Now I’ve been taken out of the tag team match for HIM and not to mention, I have to defend my title…” Spike is cut off as the door to the locker room door swings open and the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Toxxic, walks into the room. The title is thrown over his shoulder, as he enters the middle of the room and looks around at his troops. “I want answers, Toxx!” Hollywood begins, rounding on the stable's leader. Toxxic stops short, evidently surprised. “What are you talking about, Spike?” he asks, clearly bemused by the Cruiserweight champion's hostile greeting. “I want to know why you had me taken out of the tag team match with Davis tonight!" Spike demands. "I want to know why you brought HIM into our group! And I want to know what he did to YOU!” “I'm not in the mood for this, Spike," Toxxic says, rolling his eyes. "Revolution Zero is MY stable. I will bring in who I want, when I want.” “This isn’t right, Toxx!" Spike protests. "We are a group. We work things out together.” “And I'm the leader of the group," Toxic points out, his patience starting to wear thin. "What, you don't think I've got a reason? I brought him in because he can help us.” “He isn’t going to help us!" Spike spits. "He is like a disease! He will spread around until he takes us all out for his own good.” “You don’t know what you are talking about,” the Straight-Edge Sensation states, unzipping his black holdall and looking inside. Spike takes him by the arm and turns him back around. “Are you serious?” he asks. “I don’t know what I’m talking about? DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF? What has gotten into you?” “You want to know what has gotten into me?” Toxxic steps towards Spike and begins to poke him in the chest. “I've got the entire bloody locker room after me, not to mention Kibagami. I know you aren’t happy about this decision, but damn it, this is MY decision.” “Trust me, Toxxic. This is a bad move.” “You may think so now," Toxxic admits, "but wait until he saves you when you need it.” “I don’t need him doing anything for me!" Spike declares, the volume of his voice rising, "I can take care of myself!” “So can he. He's talented. That's why I put him in the tag match with Sean tonight.” “Talented? I am the most talented person on this roster, damn it!” Spike asserts forcefully, smacking the Cruiserweight belt over his shoulder. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh? You are going to pick him over me?” “I’m not picking anyone over anyone…” Toxxic says, apparently trying to calm Hollywood down, but Spike is having none of it. “You listen to me and you listen to me real good. I am more talented then anyone on this damn roster and if needed be, I will put people in their place!” he yells, getting forward into Toxxic's face. “You're welcome to try,” Toxxic says, not backing down. "I think he might surprise you." Spike slaps the belt on his shoulder again. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about him.” There is a brief pause as Toxxic's eyes narrow. Then the Straight-Edge Sensation cracks his neck once from side-to-side and leans forward to stare into the eyes of the SWF Cruiserweight Champion. “Don’t go there, Spike. Trust me, you do NOT want to go there.” Both men stand face to face, both nearly at the edge, if not already there. Before any more can be said, Jet pushes the two of them apart and places herself in between them. “Enough of this! We do not have to fight! Spike, your match is coming up. We have to go!” Spike continues his stare down with his leader. “SPIKE!” Jet cries. “Okay. I’m going.” Spike walks past Jet and Toxxic towards the door. He turns around, looking at the back of the World Champion. “He is already coming in between us. Why can’t you see this is what he plans to do?” Without another word, Spike opens the door and walks out into the hallway. Jet looks at her boyfriend. “Was this really necessary?” she asks before she follows Spike out of the room. Toxxic turns his head to look at Marcus Washington and Sean Davis, who haven't moved... and slowly, a familiar lopsided grin spreads over the World Champion's face. "You know," Toxxic says, sitting down on a bench, "I feel really sorry for Austin Sly tonight..." Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 The pay-per-view telecast fades back in, with ambiguous rock music blaring in the background. The camera pans around the Evening News Arena in Manchester, England, as we return from another SWF Video package and back to the Smarks Wrestling Federation PPV, Ashes to Ashes! The crowd cheers as they hold up signs like “??? = Edwin”, “??? = Dace”, and a many others, perhaps the oddest of which is “??? = Bobby Riley”. Down at ringside, Cyclone Comet sees the sign and gives a good hearty laugh. “What’s so funny, huh?” Asks Riley, acting as tough as he can. “Don’t think I could hold my own in the ring with Todd Cortez and his mystery partner?” “Riley, you would have trouble beating the Cardboard Comet, let alone the SWF USJL Champion and his partner.” “Pfft. All I need to do is call INS, they come here and drag him out of the ring, count out, and we have Bobby Riley and Sean Davis as the victors!” “Hey, what are you doing there?” Asks Comet, pointing at the glass coffee mug that Riley is now filling to the brim. “Oh… um, stayed up all night, gotta keep awake for the PPV, you know?” Comet leans over a little, and catches sight of “Tom Flesher” emblazoned on the cup in black letters. “Oh no, I don’t think so…” He says, picking up the cup and pouring it out, and passing it back to a little girl nearby. “Here you go, little girl. Something to put your… is that Pepsi MAX?” The girl smiles as she takes it, but then notices the name and goes “Eww!” and throws it to the ground, shattering it. “Your going to have to pay for that, you little brat! It cost me $14.99!” “Give it a rest, Riley…” He says as the lights begin to dim in the arena. The arena lights turn a dark cooling shade of blue to signal the imminent arrival of Austin Sly. The sound of an acoustic guitar playing a hard driving riff floats out over the arena but it is almost completely drowned out by the fans showing their utter loathe for the man. Austin emerges from behind the curtains with only a slight cocky smirk to show any emotion on his face. He walks to the edge of the stage to do his pre-match stretches before he makes his way towards the ring as Funyon makes his announcement. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!” booms Funyon. “First, making his way to the ring; the challenger! Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Thirty Pounds! He hails from St. Louis, Missouri! He is a former SWF Cruiserweight Champion…he is AUSTIN SLY!!!” Austin jumps up onto the ring apron and hooks his arm on the top rope. He looks through the arena, not focusing on anyone or anything in the crowd, just taking it in before he climbs into the ring through the middle rope. He makes his way across the ring and leans on the ropes awaiting his opponent. “Austin Sly has a chance to get revenge on ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins after Jenkins defeated Sly a little over four months ago for the same title that will on the line tonight!” notes Comet. “I doubt that is going to happen, Comet. Spike has been on a roll lately, tearing up the SWF rankings. I predict he will hold onto the SWF Cruiserweight Title for a long, long time.” Replies Riley. “I guess we’ll see at the end of the night.” Austin Sly waits in the ring, waiting for the champion… When every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. “AND HIS OPPONENT!” shouts Funyon through the cheering of the crowd. “A new entrance?” asks Comet. “Why not? Spike deserves one!” The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, the SWF Cruiserweight Champion and Revolution Zero member makes his way out, walking underneath the giant deformed church. The England crowd goes ape shit for the One Night Only face. Behind the champion stands the Revolution’s valet, Jet. Instead of his usual jacket/vest, Spike had a black “Screamin’ England” sweater on, a black hood covering most of his face. The SWF Cruiserweight Title is strapped firmly around his waist, as he stops at the top of the entranceway. Spike looks through the crowd and then towards his left at the giant crucifix. Spike shakes his head, a few strands of his long, dyed blonde hair come into view over his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Many of the Manchester fans hold pro-Revolution Zero and Straight Edge signs in the crowd; a few of them even making an “X” with their arms. “All it took for Revolution Zero to be cheered is crossing the ocean.” Jokes Comet. “You are just upset that the England crowd are a smart group of people. They realize that Revolution Zero is the present and the FUTURE of this company!” “What about the past?” “You’re the past, Comet. No one cares about you anymore.” Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. “Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty Five Pounds. He hails from Hollywood, California. He is being accompanied to the ring by Jet; and is a member of REVOLUTION ZERO!!” Funyon stops to let the crowd cheer on their favorite stable. “He is the current reigning and defending SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION!!!! HE IS ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIKE JENKINS!!!!” The fans continue their “deaf”-defying cheer, as Spike walks around the ring, slapping hands with the fans in the front row. He makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Spike just stands there, just allowing the crowd to get louder and louder. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. Spike walks into his corner, unstrapping the SWF Cruiserweight Title from his waist. Referee Brendan Fitzgerald takes the title from Jenkins. He carries it across the ring towards the challenger, showing it to Austin. Austin nods at Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald holds the title belt in the air. He hands the belt to a ring crewmember and signals for the bell. Spike pulls the hoodie over his head and tosses it to ringside as this match is underway. “You know…that referee looks familiar…” “Shhh…quiet, Robert.” “But he looks like…someone I know…” “…And the match begins!” *Ding Ding Ding* Both men lunge out of the corner and begin circling around the ring. They both enter the center of the ring and meet with a collar-elbow tie up. They both struggle, using their weight to try to gain an advantage. Spike is able to make the first move and gets the go behind on Sly. Spike wraps his arms firmly around the waist of Austin. Sly struggles to break free, but Spike keeps the hold intact. “What a great title match this will be, Robert.” Says Comet. “Both men are the top cruiserweights this world has to offer.” “Well…Spike is.” Sly drops down, trying to wiggle free. Spike drops to his knees, following the challenger down. Doing this helps Sly break free from the waist lock. Sly holds onto Spike’s arm and springs himself around. He releases Spike’s arm and locks on his own waist lock, pulling Spike down into a sitting position. Spike breaks free from the hold and turns his body around to face Sly. Spike grabs Austin’s head and pulls him into a front face lock, both men standing on their knees. Sly realizes he is stuck, rises to his feet, bringing Jenkins up with him. Spike drops down to his knees, wrenching the neck of Sly and bringing him back down to his knees. But the challenger quickly gets back to a standing position, bringing the Revolution Zero member up with him. Sly digs his claws in between the hands of Jenkins and breaks open the front face lock. This gives Sly enough time to drop to his knees, grab Spike’s leg and use a single leg takedown to bring Jenkins down to the mat, face first. Jenkins immediately tries to get to his feet, but is stopped by a waist lock from Austin. Spike continues to struggle, but Sly stops that as he breaks away from the waist lock and quickly locks his arms underneath Spikes and around his neck with a full nelson. “Austin Sly has a very good chance of winning the SWF Cruiserweight Championship for a second time tonight.” “I doubt that will happen, Comet.” “Austin Sly is an extremely talented cruiserweight. He defeated former SWF World Champion, Johnny Dangerous, for the Cruiserweight championship! Not to mention, Johnny Dangerous is the man that ended Spike Jenkins’ leader, Toxxic’s, first World Title reign.” “What does that have to do with Spike? Really now!” Spike continues the struggle to his feet. He gets to his knees, but Sly breaks the full nelson. He keeps a half nelson locked in and tries for a waist lock with one arm, but Spike is able swing himself out of it. Spike gets to his feet, just as Austin does. Spike goes to pull Sly into a front face lock, but Sly slaps him away and both men back away into opposite corners. “Both men are highly trained and dangerous in the art of mat wrestling. As you just witnessed, both men started this match at full force and neither could gain an advantage.” “Give Spike some time, Comet. I have all the faith in the world in him.” “As does the Manchester crowd.” The crowd continues their chants, which only seem to get louder and louder. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” Both men finish their breather and walk out of their corner. They circle around and meet up back in the center of the ring. Austin Sly goes for a lock up, but Spike goes low and brings Sly down with a single leg takedown. Sly wraps his legs around Spike’s waist. Jenkins tries to throw some forearm shots into the takedown, but Sly is able to block them by holding Spike’s arms back. “Spike is going for the Jiu-Jitsu style ground and pound, but Austin Sly is holding him back.” Notes Comet. Spike realizes he won’t be able to get his strikes in, so he pulls his arms away from Sly. Spike forces Austin’s left leg to untangle around the champions waist. Spike turns Austin over onto his stomach. Spike wraps his arms and locks them around the waist of Sly. Sly rolls over, crushing Spike underneath him. But Spike just pulls Sly back onto the mat. Spike keeps the waist lock applied as he hovers over Sly who is now sitting on his knees in a near-curled up position. “Spike is not the only Revolution Zero member in action tonight. In the main event, the SWF World Champion Toxxic will defend his title against Annie Eclectic in a Street Fight!” Bobby pimps. “I predict Toxxic continues his reign as champion and destroys Ichiban and her hopes of ever becoming the first women SWF Champion!” Sly fights up to his knees, at which point Spike breaks the waist lock. He quickly spins to the front of Austin and wraps his arms around the neck of the challenger in a front face lock. Both men stand on their knees as Jenkins wrenches the neck. Sly pushes himself up to his feet, while Jenkins keeps the hold applied on his knees. Using the height advantage, Austin breaks Jenkins’ hold and gets a go behind and a waist lock. Spike fights to a sitting position, as Sly tries to keep his waist lock applied. Spike tries to break out of the hold, but instead uses his speed instead. Spike rolls to the side, rolling over on his neck and forcing Sly into an awkward position on top of his head. Spike breaks the waist lock open and grabs the wrist of Austin’s right arm. Spike fights to apply a key lock, but Sly pulls his arm away. Pulling his arm away leaves him open for a front face lock once again by the Cruiserweight Champion. Sly immediately breaks away and both men jump to their feet, connecting with an INDY STAND OFF~! “Indy stand off!” cries Comet. “Both men went at each other with all they have. Both men are extremely talented in mat wrestling, but neither could get an advantage.” “The crowd is defiantly behind Spike, though!” “He is a member of Revolution Zero and a follower of Toxxic. It would only make sense that they get cheered.” “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” Both men back into the opposite ropes, just staring at one another. They both calmly walk into the center of the ring, meeting in a face off. The slightly taller Sly looks down at the cocky, arrogant, and lately, pissed off Jenkins. Both men trash talk each other’s skills, knowing full well that knocking the other off their game plan can give them the advantage. Austin Sly finally hits one of the champion’s buttons and Spike responds with a shove! Sly retaliates with a shove! “We have a shoving contest going on!” shouts Comet. Spike looks at Sly with a cocky grin on his face. Without warning, Spike charges in towards Austin, but Sly leap frogs over him. Spike turns back towards Sly, who charges into the ropes. “Spike rushes in, but Austin leapfrogs over.” Austin bounces off the ropes and comes charging back towards Jenkins. Jenkins leaps into the air leap frogging over the challenger. Austin continues his way across the ring into the ropes. “Leapfrog by Jenkins!” Sly hits the ropes and again comes running back towards Jenkins. Spike drops to the mat, causing Sly to leap over him and continue across the ring. “Austin, up and over!” Austin hits the ropes, just as Spike gets to his feet. Spike sees Sly coming towards him and leaps into the air with a dropkick…only to find nothing as Austin holds onto the ropes! “No, Sly holds on to the ropes!” Spike hits the mat and bounces back onto his hands and knees. He holds his rib cage, feeling the impact of his body crashing into the mat. Sly charges out of the ropes, jumping on top of Jenkins and rolling him with a cradle! “Oklahoma Roll by Austin Sly!” shouts Comet, who finally finishes his long line of calling the action. ONE! TW---NO! Spike rolls out of the Oklahoma roll into a side headlock! “Austin Sly surprised Spike Jenkins with that Oklahoma Roll! If it wasn’t so early on in the match, we might have a new Cruiserweight champion!” “I need a drink…where is my Tom Flesher mug? Oh…that’s right!” Riley turns around in his seat and points out the little English girl in the front row. “YOU BROKE IT!” “ROBERT!” “What?” Spike wrenches on the headlock, trying to pull away at the neck. Austin Sly begins to struggle to his feet, but Spike follows him up with the headlock firmly applied. Spike breaks the side headlock, locking on to Austin’s arm and getting the go behind with a hammerlock! Both men get to a full stance. Sly succeeds in pulling away from the hammerlock, but Spike is able to wrap his arms around the neck for another side headlock. “Side headlock applied by the Cruiserweight Champion!” Spike wrenches on the neck, forcing Austin to grab the champion’s arms and try to loosen them. Spike catches Austin trying to break the hold and wrenches down on the neck. Sly drops to one knee from the pain, but quickly gets back to a full stance. Thinking of another way out, Sly drives his elbow into the side of Jenkins. “Spike is refusing to let go of the hold! That’s how good of a mat technician this guy is! His training under Toxxic has done worlds for him!” Riley spouts out. “Speaking of him and Toxxic, what happened earlier tonight? It looked like the two were ready to go at it!” “Let’s not talk about that, Comet. They both have high tempers. It was just a miscommunication.” “We still don’t know why they got into a fight, or who it was about! Apparently, Toxxic felt the need to take Spike out of the tag team match later tonight with Spike’s usual partner, Sean Davis, and replace him with the newest member of Revolution Zero!” “Toxxic isn’t going to send his men into battle handicapped! He knows what he is doing! If taking Spike out of the tag team match was the best move possible, it will all work out in the end for the Revolution.” Spike continues his side headlock. He wrenches back on the neck. Sly tries to drag Jenkins across the ring. Austin attempts an Irish whip out of the side headlock, but Spike refuses to let it go. Spike wrenches down again, forcing Sly and himself down to one knee. Austin gets up to a full stance, but Spike stays low on one knee with the side headlock applied. Sly elbows Spike in the back. Spike cringes in pain, allowing Sly to drag him to his feet and back into the ropes. Austin forces Spike into the ropes and Irish whips him off. Still feeling the effects of the elbow, Spike abruptly breaks the side headlock. But Jenkins is still able to land on his feet, right next to Austin Sly…who locks Spike in his own side headlock! “Austin Sly was not only able to break free from Spike’s side headlock; but he was able to lock on his own side headlock!” Spike promptly hauls Austin back into the ropes. He thrusts Sly against the ropes and attempts an Irish whip, but Sly holds on to the hold! Sly drags Spike into the center of the ring and wrenches back on the neck. Spike drops to his knees, attempting to break the hold. The challenger pulls down on the champions’ neck. Spike climbs up to his feet, pushing Sly back but to no prevail. Jenkins reaches back, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling it back. Sly yelps in pain, as his head gets pulled back, leaving his chest open for an open palm slap by the Revolution Zero member. Referee Brendan Fitzgerald yells at Spike not to pull hair, but the champion simply ignores it. With Austin dazed from the shot to the ribs, Spike attempts another Irish whip…that is blocked! Austin continues his lock on the Cruiserweight champion! “Both men working a very slow, methodical pace. Austin Sly is keeping the advantage over the champion with a side headlock. He is just refusing to let go!” “What the hell happened? Just moments ago, Spike had the advantage!” “Professional Wrestling is like Chess, Bobbo. Each moves counts and will affect the outcome of the game. Austin is just playing his pieces right now.” “Yeah…you totally lost me on that…” Still trapped inside the side headlock, Spike shoves his captor back into the ropes. With Sly against the ropes, Jenkins pushes him forward with an Irish whip…but Sly holds on to the headlock! Spike decides to go with Plan C and to power his way out. Jenkins wraps his arms around the waist of Sly and lifts him up into the air for a belly-to-back suplex! …But Austin sees it coming and turns in mid-air, looking for a hurricanrana… …WHICH SPIKE CATCHES AND HOLDS ONTO SLY! SPIKE HOLDS SLY UPSIDE DOWN, TRYING TO SLIDE HIS LEGS OVER THE OPEN ARMS OF AUSTIN FOR THE RATINGS CRASH! “RATINGS CRASH! RATINGS CRASH! IF HE HITS THIS, ITS ALL OVER!” screams Robert. The fans in the Evening News Arena begin to buzz as Spike is on the verge of hitting Austin with his finisher. Spike tries to hold Sly up while locking his legs over the challengers’ arms, but Austin refuses to give up. Austin pulls his weight and swings his arms wildly… …And Austin reaches the bottom rope! He wraps both his arms around the bottom rope and holds on for dear life! Spike lets go of Sly and lets him drop to the mat. Jenkins walks back into the middle of the ring, holding his back from having to carry Austin all around. Sly instantly gets up to his feet. The crowd boos the turn of events and is firmly behind the Revolution. “Ratings Crash attempt by Spike, but Sly grabs the ropes!” “If he would of hit that, this match would have been over REAL quick.” Sly charges into the center of the ring, meeting Spike with a collar-elbow tie up. They both struggle to gain the advantage, but Spike is able to overpower Austin into a side headlock. Spike wrenches down, putting strain on the neck. Sly struggles to get away, but Jenkins keeps the hold synched in. With Austin tucked in, Spike rushes into the corner; dragging the challenger with him. Spike leaps onto the middle rope and onto the top rope. He springs off the top rope, attempting for what appears to be a tornado bulldog… …But Austin Sly dumps him over the top rope and onto the apron! “Austin Sly sends Jenkins up and over the top rope. Nice counter by the former Cruiserweight Champion!” Spike lands on his feet, though a little dazed. Austin throws a right hand at the skull of Jenkins, which is blocked. Spike ducks down and drives his head in between the middle and top rope into the ribcage of the challenger. Sly folds over in pain, allowing Spike the opportunity to connect with a right hand through the middle and top rope that sends the challenger through the adjacent ropes and onto the apron. “Spike with a right hand that sends Austin Sly through the ropes, out onto the apron.” “They are both on the apron? What can they do from there?” Austin Sly climbs to his feet on the apron, leaning on the top rope for support. Spike stands on the apron adjacent to Sly. He grabs onto the top rope and springboards himself onto them. Spike leaps off the top rope and drops his leg down across the back of his opponents’ head, driving Austin Sly throat first across the top rope!! “WOW! Springboard leg drop that guillotines Austin Sly!” “Did you see that? Spike snapped Austin’s neck across the top rope!” Austin drops onto the apron. He grabs his throat, trying to get oxygen into his system. Spike climbs to his feet in the ring. He looks at his opponent. Spike realizes that Austin is down for the moment, so he begins to pose for the Manchester crowd. The crowd applauds Spike athletic ability and chants his name. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” “The Manchester crowd is firmly behind the Cruiserweight Champion tonight!” says Comet. “If only the American crowds where this smart…” “I think it might have something to do with Toxxic being from the United Kingdom…” “What are you saying, Comet? That the fans can’t cheer Spike for being an innovative and extraordinary wrestler?” “I never said no such thing!” “Way to be a biased announcer, Comet!” Austin pulls himself back up to his feet, again leaning on the top rope. Spike finishes his posing, as he turns back towards the challenger. Spike runs into the ropes facing Sly. He hits the ropes and comes speeding towards the challenger. Spike drops down, diving feet first underneath the bottom rope, looking for a baseball slide to take Sly down… “Spike goes under for a baseball slide…” starts Comet. …But Austin slingshots himself over the top rope into the ring! Spike slides completely out of the ring. He lands on his feet, but still manages to stumble into the guardrail. “NO! Up and over goes Austin! Showing that he can play the Cruiserweight Champions game!” Spike regains his footing and turns back towards the ring. Spike goes to slide into the ring…but is met with a baseball slide-esq. Dive by Sly. Austin keeps his legs open though, catching Spike with a head scissors underneath the bottom rope. Spike grabs onto Sly. He pulls Austin out of the ring, underneath the bottom rope. Spike plans on dropping Sly down on the floor with a powerbomb… …But Austin is able to swing to the side and HURRICANRANA’S SPIKE, FLIPPING SPIKE INSIDE OUT INTO THE GUARD RAIL!! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” “AMAZING BASEBALL SLIDE INTO A HURRICANRANA ON THE FLOOR!” shouts Comet. “I’ve never seen anything like that before!” Both men lay on the floor, obviously feeling the effects of that high-risk maneuver. “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” “Austin Sly has a serious chance of flying back into the States with the SWF Cruiserweight Title!” says Comet. “I have never seen a hurricanrana performed like that before!” says Riley, who is very impressed with the innovative Austin Sly. Austin Sly ascends to his feet. He stumbles over towards Jenkins. The crowd is now 50/50 on both men. While some fans still cheer for Spike, they are now behind the underdog, Austin Sly. Sly reaches down, grabbing Jenkins by his hair and peeling him off the floor. Sly slams his forearm into the back of Jenkins, trying to weaken him down some more. Sly carries him over to the ring. Austin slides the Hollywood Superstar underneath the bottom rope into the ring. Spike rolls into the center of the ring and climbs up to his feet, as Sly ascends the ring apron. Spike gets to his feet, but wobbles around. He turns towards the corner Sly is in. Austin grabs the top rope and springboards himself onto them. Sly leaps off the top rope, diving towards Jenkins… …And connects with a Dropkick to the chest! “Austin Sly has Spike in trouble!” says Comet. “Sly is not afraid to fly, and he shows that with that springboard dropkick!” Sly gets to his knees and turns Jenkins over onto his back. Sly with the cover! “Austin Sly with the cover!” ONE! TWO! TH---NO! Spike gets a shoulder up! “Austin Sly only gets a two count!” “Austin Sly almost getting the victory and the SWF Cruiserweight Championship. He needs to follow up with his assault on Jenkins.” Says Comet. “He has Spike in a precarious position. Spike is now in defense mode, right where Austin wants him.” Sly climbs up to his feet, as Spike does the same, only much slower. Sly lifts Spike into a standing position and drives his forearm into the champions face. Austin pushes Jenkins back into the ropes. He grabs Spike by the wrist and Irish whips him across the ring. Spike reverses it though and sends Austin into the ropes. Sly hits the ropes and bounces back. Jenkins ducks his head, looking for a back body drops…but Austin catches him with a kick to the face. Spike staggers back, but charges forward. He throws his arm in the air, looking for a HEY-WE-ARE-IN-ENGLAND-THEY-DON’T-PLAY-AMERICAN-FOOTBALL-HERE-YOU-BASTARD-LARIATOOOOOH!!!! … But Austin ducks underneath it. “Lariat attempt is ducked by the challenger,” notes Comet. Spike turns back towards Sly, who locks his arms around the waist of Jenkins. Sly holds Spike in a belly-to-back position, hooking one of Jenkins’ legs back. Austin lifts the Revolution Zero member up into the air and drives him back down, driving Spike knee-to-knee with a shin breaker! Spike yelps in pain. He tries to get away from Sly, but the challenger holds onto the leg. Austin trips Spike back down to the mat, turns him over onto his stomach, and with his leg still tucked away, pulls back on a Single Leg Boston Crab! “Shin breaker into a Half Boston Crab by Austin Sly!” Comet commentates. Austin pulls back, bending Spike’s body in half and twisting his knee. Spike screams in pain, as he tries to figure out what to do. Referee Brendan Fitzgerald drops down to the mat and asks Spike if he gives up. Spike yells out “NO!” Austin Sly leans back, keeping all his weight on the lower back of Jenkins. “Spike is in a lot of trouble! This Half Boston Crab is going to tear him in half!” Most of the crowd has started up another “Spike! Spike! Spike!” chant, while the rest of the crowd cheer for Austin Sly. Spike starts to drag his way towards the ropes. He inches his way closer…and closer…and closer…and closer… … Almost there … … Almost there … … ALMOST … … Spike reaches for the ropes … … AND HE HAS IT! … NO! …. Spike reaches again… … AND HE HAS IT! Referee Brendan Fitzgerald gets to his feet and starts to count Austin Sly out if he doesn’t break the hold. Austin keeps the hold intact for two more seconds, before breaking the hold cleanly. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!” “Spike Jenkins just making the ropes!” Sly stands over the fallen Jenkins, who is trying to climb to his feet. Austin slams down a few boots to the lower back of Spike. He grabs the Cruiserweight Champion by the hair and drags him to his feet. Sly punches Spike in the jaw, knocking Spike down to one knee. While Spike is on his knee, Sly wraps his arms around Spike’s neck in a front face lock. Austin lifts Spike’s free arm over his neck and hooks Spike up for a suplex. Austin attempts to lift Spike into the air, but Spike wraps his leg around Austin’s to block it. Sly tries for a second time, but again it is blocked. Spike slams his fist into the ribs of Austin, temporarily stopping him from continuing. Spike catches the opportunity and reverses the suplex, lifting Austin straight into the air. Jenkins lets Sly fall backwards down to the mat… … But instead of suplexing the challenger, Spike drops to his knees, CONNECTING WITH A NECKBREAKER OUT OF THE SUPLEX! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” Sly grabs his neck immediately on impact. He quickly rolls away from his opponent, not wanting Spike to make the cover. “SPIKE DROPPING AUSTIN SLY INTO A NECKBREAKER FROM A SUPLEX POSITION!” cries Bobby. “Such innovation and technique by the cruiserweight of Revolution Zero!” “Austin Sly is DEFIANTLY feeling that one!” Spike climbs up to his feet. Austin Sly fights to one knee, still feeling the effects of that neck breaker. Spike catches Sly on one knee and charges towards him. He leaps up, springboarding off Austin’s open knee and turns in the air, connecting with a Shining Enziguri to the back of the head! “DANGEROUS WIZAHHHHHHD!” “Dangerous Wizard! Dangerous Wizard by Spike Jenkins! It is all over!” shouts Riley. Sly hits the mat face first. His eyes roll to the back of the head, as Spike turns him over for the cover! ONE! TWO! THR---NO! AUSTIN SLY KICKS OUT!! “No! Not enough!” cries Riley. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Austin Sly was pinned after those two moves. It is amazing that he kicked out!” Spike climbs up to his feet, visibly disappointed that Austin isn’t finished. He reaches down, grabbing Sly by the hair and pulling him up to his feet. Spike hunches Sly over. He clobbers the challenger in the back with a forearm shot…after forearm shot…after forearm shot. Spike pulls Sly into a standing head scissors…AND SIGNALS FOR THE RATINGS CRASH! “Could this be the Ratings Crash on the way?” asks Comet. Sly tries to fight out of it, but Spike drives another forearm shot to the back. Spike signals for the Ratings Crash again! Spike wraps his arms around the waist of his opponent, but again, Sly tries to fight it. Spike releases his waist lock and again slams forearm shots to the back. After the third forearm shot, Austin just collapses to the mat. With Sly on the mat, Spike wheels back and send a martial arts kick right to the ribcage, rolling Sly over onto his stomach. “Spike couldn’t get the Ratings Crash on Austin Sly. He is going to have to figure out another way to put him away.” Spike walks around Sly, stopping at his legs. Spike reaches down, grabs on of Austin’s ankles and lifting it off the mat. Spike spins the leg around, turning Sly back onto his stomach. Jenkins wraps his leg around the ankle that he holds and drops down to the mat, on top of Sly. Spike wraps his arms around the jaw of the challenger and pulls back in an STF! “STF by the Champion!” “Austin Sly is in bad shape!” says Comet. Spike wrenches back on the neck of Austin Sly, who screams in agony. Referee Brendan Fitzgerald drops to the mat, and this time checks on Austin Sly. He asks Sly if he gives up, which gets a loud “NO!” reply. Austin claws towards the ropes, dragging Spike along with him. The fans are about 50/50 in cheering for Austin Sly and cheering for Spike Jenkins now! “LETS GO AUSTIN! LETS GO JENKINS! LETS GO AUSTIN! LETS GO JENKINS!” Austin Sly reaches for all he has for the ropes. He screams in pain as Spike just pulls back with all his might. Sly is so close to the ropes… … He is almost there … … Almost there … … ALMOST … … AND HE HAS IT! Referee Brendan Fitzgerald jumps off the mat and starts to count Spike out if he doesn’t break the hold. Spike breaks the hold at four. He rolls off of his opponent and towards the ropes. Both men lie on the mat, breathing heavily and exhausted. “Both men are fatigued, Comet.” Starts Riley. “It’s all about who can get a big impact move in to finish the job!” Spike climbs up to his feet, with the help of the ropes. Spike stumbles over to Sly, who is still lying near the ropes. Spike stomps down on the lower back of Austin, who convulses in pain. Spike reaches down, grabbing Sly by the hair and pulling him up to his feet. Jenkins pushes the challenger back into the ropes and slaps him across the chest with a knife-edged chop! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” “BIG chop by the SWF Cruiserweight Champion!” Sly holds his chest, but is quickly pulled away by Jenkins. Spike grabs Austin’s wrist and Irish whips him across the ropes. Sly hits the ropes and bounces back towards the awaiting arms of Jenkins. Hollywood wraps his arms around Sly and whips him through the air, driving him into the mat with a snap powerslam! Spike looks for a flash pin and hooks the leg! ONE! TWO! T---NO! Austin kicks out! “Hook of the leg…but NO! Not enough!” says Comet. “A close two count.” “A beautifully executed powerslam!” Spike climbs up to his feet. He walks over to Sly, grabs him by the hair and pulls him up to his feet. “That powerslam took a lot out of Austin Sly!” Sly staggers on his feet. Spike leans back and connects with a right hand to the forehead. Austin stumbles back into the corner. Spike follows him and connects with another right hand to the forehead. Spike grabs Austin’s wrist and Irish whips him across the ring into the opposite corner. Sly charges in and lands hard with a *THUD*. Spike charges out of his corner, heading in towards Sly… …Who greets him with a boot to the face! Spike stumbles back and Sly comes running out of the corner. Austin swings for a right hand, but Spike ducks. Spike turns back to Sly who connects with the right hand this time! Spike’s head snaps back as Austin hits him with a second right hand. But Spike responds with a right hand of his own. Both men stumble back… …But both men go for a standing enziguri…AND BOTH MEN HIT EACH OTHER AND GO DOWN! “Double enziguri!” “WOW! What a stalemate we have here! Both men are just going back and forth!” says an amazed Robert. “Both men went for an enziguri and both men connected. Now they are both down on the mat!” Both men lie on the mat, holding their heads. The fans are at an all time high at this point in the match. Referee Brendan Fitzgerald checks on both men, making sure neither is unconscious. When he realizes that both men aren’t, he starts his count out of both men. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Both men roll around, trying to climb to their feet. FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NI---Both men get to their feet. “Spike Jenkins and Austin Sly make it up before the ten count. What a war we have here at Ashes to Ashes 2004 for the SWF Cruiserweight Title!” “And this is only the second match of the night! We have so much more in store!” pimps Riley. Both men get to their feet and meet each other in the center of the ring. Both are knelt over, breathing heavily. But Spike takes the first opportunity and connects with a brutal knife-edged chop to Austin Sly! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” Austin Sly responds with a knife-edged chop of his own! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” …Which makes Spike come back with another! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” …And Sly with another! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” …And Spike with ANOTHER! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” …AND SLY WITH ANOTHER! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” “A chopping war is taking place right in front of us!” Spike stumbles back, but then charges back into the ropes. Spike hits the ropes and runs towards Sly at full force. Spike throws his boot in the air, looking for his patent Yakuza Kick… …But Austin ducks underneath it! Sly goes behind Spike and locks in a waist lock! Austin tries to lift Spike up, but Spike counters with a go behind and his own waist lock! Spike lifts Austin into the air AND GOES FOR A GERMAN SUPLEX! “A GERMAN SUPLEX! The move that Spike used to win the SWF Cruiserweight Title for the first time from Austin Sly on July, 13th of this year!” shouts Comet. Spike lifts Sly into the air, ready to drop him on the back of his head… …But Sly pushes all his weight down, forcing Spike to drop him back to his feet. Austin breaks the waist lock and gets a go behind. Austin locks his arms around Spike’s waist. Spike tries to fight out of the waist lock, but Austin has it synched it… AUSTIN THROWS SPIKE INTO THE AIR WITH A RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX! SPIKE COMPLETELY 360*’S IN MIDAIR AND LANDS ON HIS FACE!!! “AUSTIN SLY HIT A GERMAN SUPLEX! THE MOVE SPIKE USED TO DEFEAT HIM!” “HE TURNED SPIKE COMPLETELY INSIDE OUT!” shouts Riley. “That was unbelievable!” The crowd is on their feet and a buzz is going through the arena. Both men lie on the mat, but Sly is inching his way towards Spike. “An amazing German Suplex! Spike did a complete 360* off that German Suplex!” Austin covers Spike and hooks the leg! “Austin Sly has the Cruiserweight Champion covered! It is all over!” ONE! “ONE!!!!!!” TWO!! “TWWWWWWWWWWWWO!” “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!” THREE!!!!! NO!!! SPIKE KICKS OUT! SPIKE KICKS OUT! “Spike kicked out! Spike kicked out!” cries Riley. “Austin Sly was just inches away from the SWF Cruiserweight Championship! I don’t think it could get much closer then that!” Sly climbs up to his feet. He reaches down, grabbing Spike by the hair and lifting him off the mat. He wraps his arms around the neck of Jenkins in a front face lock. Sly lifts Spike’s arm and places it around his neck. Austin lifts Spike up into the air for a suplex…but Spike floats out of it and lands behind Sly! Spike charges back into the ropes, just as Austin turns around. Austin swings his arm towards Spike, looking for a clothesline, but Spike ducks underneath it. Spike goes behind Austin, wrapping his arms around the challengers’ waist. Spike lifts Sly up into the air and drops back, driving Austin onto the back of his head with a bridging German Suplex! “German suplex! The move Spike used to defeat Austin Sly!” Referee Brendan Fitzgerald drops to the mat and makes the count! ONE! “ONE!!!!!!” TWO!! “TWWWWWWWWWWWWO!” “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!” THREE!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUSTIN KICKS OUT! AUSTIN KICKS OUT!!! “I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” “AUSTIN! AUSTIN! AUSTIN! AUSTIN!” “Austin Sly kicked out of the German Suplex!” “How could this be, Comet? How could he do that? That is the move Spike used to beat him for his first title Cruiserweight title reign. How could he kick out of it NOW?” “All I know is that Austin Sly is really impressing me tonight! After kicking out of that brutal German suplex, he may still have a fighting chance in this!” Spike rolls over onto his stomach before climbing up to his feet. Spike walks over to Sly, who is now climbing up to his feet. Spike grabs Sly by the hair and pulls him up to a standing position. “What will it take for Spike to put Austin away?” asks Riley. Spike leans back and connects with a forearm shot to the jaw. Spike leans back again and connects with a second forearm to the jaw. Spike charges backwards into the ropes. He hits the ropes and bounces back towards the stumbling challenger… …Who catches Spike with a back elbow to the jaw! Spike stumbles back, holding his jaw in pain. Austin grabs Spike by the wrist and Irish whips him across the ropes. Spike runs towards the ropes, leaping onto the second rope and springboarding off it! Spike springboards back towards Sly, turning in midair, and looking for a Hurricanrana! …But Sly catches Spike on his shoulders! “Sly catches Spike off the Springboard Hurricanrana!” Sly stumbles back as Spike lays fists into the top of his head. Austin backs up several paces into the ropes. Spike continues pounding away at the forehead of Sly, but to no prevail. Austin charges out of the ropes. With Spike on his shoulders, Austin goes for a running sit out powerbomb! “Running Sit Out Powerbomb! This could put Spike away!” says Comet. … But Spike slips off of Austin’s shoulders and rolls behind him for a sunset flip! ONE! TWO! THRE---NO! AUSTIN KICKS OUT! “Austin kicks out of the sunset flip counter!” “The sunset flip only got a two count! Both men are giving everything they have for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship!” Sly rolls to his feet, as Spike climbs up. Both men get to their feet at the same time and meet in the center of the ring. Spike grabs onto Austin’s shoulders and pushes himself into the air, looking for that attempted hurricanrana from earlier. Spike wraps his legs around Austin’s head and prepares to drop down for the hurricanrana… … BUT AUSTIN DROPS DOWN, DRIVING SPIKE INTO THE MAT WITH A SITOUT POWERBOMB! SLY HOLDS SPIKE DOWN FOR THE COVER! “SIT OUT POWERBOMB!” ONE!!!! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!!!!” TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWO!!!!” THREE-----NO!!!!!! SPIKE GETS A SHOULDER UP! “What a move!” says Comet. “That was the powerbomb Sly was looking for before. He hit it, but it still wasn’t enough to keep Jenkins down!” Sly pushes Spike away. Spike lies on the mat, as Sly struggles to his feet. Not sure of what to do next, Austin figures that the only way to put Spike away for good is for a high impact move. Austin steps through the middle and top rope onto the apron. Austin walks into the corner and begins to make his way to the top rope. “Austin Sly is scaling to the top rope! He could be going for that one big impact move he needs.” Austin climbs to the top rope, trying to gain some sort of balance up there. While doing this, Spike gets to his feet. Spike sees Austin on the top rope…and charges into the ropes. The ropes shake and Sly loses his balance, falling off the top rope and crotching himself on the turnbuckle! “Spike is on his feet! And he crotches Sly on the top rope!” Spike quickly goes into the corner, pulling Sly down from the top rope and locking his hands around the upside down body of Austin. Spike pulls Sly out of the corner for what looks like an attempt at the RATINGS CRASH… …BUT SLY REVERSES IT INTO A HURRICANRANA INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! “Hurricanrana counter out of the Ratings Crash!” …BUT SPIKE ROLLS AUSTIN INTO A SUNSET FLIP! “Sunset flip counter out of the Hurricanrana…” …But instead of keeping Sly down for the pin, Spike climbs up to his feet, his arms still wrapped around the opponents waist. Spike pulls Sly off the mat and holds him upside down! Spike wraps his legs over the flailing arms of Sly… …AND DROPS DOWN, DRIVING AUSTIN SLY FACE FIRST INTO THE MAT WITH A RATINGS CRASH!!! “Ratings Crash! Spike hit the Ratings Crash! It has to be over!” The crowd cheers as Spike rolls over into a sitting position, holding Sly down in a sunset flip position. ONE!!!! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!!!!” TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWO!!!!” THREE!!!!!!!!! *Ding Ding Ding* “And Spike Jenkins retains the SWF Cruiserweight Title after a Ratings Crash!” Spike pushes Sly off of him and quickly rolls out of the ring. “Black Label” starts up as the United Kingdom crowd is on there feet, applauding the Revolution Zero member. Jet grabs the Cruiserweight title and runs around the ring towards Spike. She hands the title to him, who holds it up in the air after a long, hard battle for it. “What an amazing match!” says Comet. “I told you, Comet. Spike would retain. The Revolution is One-and-Zero for tonight! Just like at Genesis V, they are going for the full sweep!” “That may be so, Riley. That may be so!” Spike and Jet walk back towards the locker room, celebrating the victory as SWF Ashes to Ashes 2004 fades into the next segment. [FADE] Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 As yet another hype video for the ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens/Suicide King Hell in a Cell match finishes up, Faith No More’s “Ashes to Ashes” strikes up again and a camera swings around to focus on Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet. I want them to know it’s me It’s on my head I’ll point the finger at me It’s on my head Give it all to you, then I’ll be closer Smilin’ with the mouth of the ocean And I’ll wave to you with the arms of the mountain I’ll see you I will let you shout no more It’s on my head I’ll pick you up from the floor It’s on my head I’ll let you even the score It’s on my head Give it all to you, then I’ll be closer Smilin’ with the mouth of the ocean And I’ll wave to you with the arms of the mountain I’ll see you Give the same to me then I’ll be closer, closer Give the same to me then I’ll be closer, closer Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I’ll wave to you with the arms of the mountain Give the same to me then I’ll be closer, closer Give the same to me then I’ll be closer “That was quite a pair of matches we had to start of the two thousand four edition of Ashes to Ashes, wasn’t it, Bobby?” Comet asks after waiting for the song to finish. “Eh, they weren’t bad. Could have used some more BLOOD SPORT!” Riley shouts while pulling his jacket open slightly to reveal his very own Blood Sport shirt, which he’ll be peddling after the show in the parking lot. “Regardless of that, we’ve got another good match coming up, but unlike the first two, no title is on the line in this contest. However, that doesn’t mean the two competitors involved will take it any less seriously. A loss here could result in a downward spiral that might take weeks to get out of, while a win boosts confidence, not to mention catches the attention of the match makers,” Comet says. “Are you kidding? Nobody wants to see Andrea Montgomery or David Cross in high-profile matches! Hell, Team Surly shouldn’t even have the tag team belts!” Riley exclaims. Before Comet has a chance to respond, the lights dim and stay that way for several seconds until... BOOM! An explosion erupts on the entrance stage. No Doubt’s “Just a Girl” starts up, and the Montgomery siblings, Andrea and Zutroy, pass through the arch, garnering plenary indulgence for themselves and head down the ramp. Take this pink ribbon off my eyes I'm exposed And it's no big surprise Don't you think I know Exactly where I stand This world is forcing me To hold your hand “Ladies and most gentle of men, firstly, I humbly thank you on behalf of the entire Smartmarks Wrestling Federation for allowing us in your fine and storied country. The following display of pugilistic exhibition is scheduled for one fall in which loss by count out and disqualification are in effect! Introducing first, being accompanied by her brother and former Smartmarks Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Champion, Zutroy Montgomery, hailing from the southern city of Biloxi in the southern state of Mississippi, she weighs one hundred forty-three pounds, ANDREA MONTGOMERY!” Funyon barks out over the cheering fans. 'Cause I'm just a girl, little ol' me Don't let me out of your sight I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite So don't let me have any rights Oh... I've had it up to here! The moment that I step outside So many reasons For me to run and hide I can't do the little things I hold so dear 'Cause it's all those little things That I fear 'Cause I'm just a girl, I'd rather not be 'Cause they won't let me drive Late at night I'm just a girl, Guess I'm some kind of freak 'Cause they all sit and stare With their eyes I'm just a girl, Take a good look at me Just your typical prototype Oh... I've had it up to here! Oh... am I making myself clear? I'm just a girl I'm just a girl in the world... That's all that you'll let me be! I'm just a girl, living in captivity Your rule of thumb Makes me worry some I'm just a girl, what's my destiny? What I've succumbed to Is making me numb I'm just a girl, my apologies What I've become is so burdensome I'm just a girl, lucky me Twiddle-dum there's no comparison Oh... I've had it up to! Oh... I've had it up to! Oh... I've had it up to here Drea slides under the bottom rope, heads towards the other side of the ring, and begins stretching while Zutroy scoots around the ring, waiting for Cross to appear. “So Bobby, who do you like in this match?” Comet asks, attempting to make small talk. “Like? Nobody’s overtly hot, but...” Riley stops after a look from Comet. “Oh. You mean who do I think is going to win?” “Yeah, that’s how some people use it in a competition, match, or game. Dolt,” Comet states. “Well, in that case, I’m not going to tell you, you big jerk,” Bobby replies. “Back on Earth” starts up over the speakers and David Cross appears under the arch. He pauses for a moment, looks at the crucifix, then makes his way down the ramp. I have fallen from grace, and my ashes are scattered No longer a passion and flesh My flame is alive, though my wings have been shattered They laid my body to rest. My spirit is breathing, my senses are pure Like reincarnation my soul will endure “And her opponent, from Oil City, Pennsylvania, he weighs in at two hundred, seventy-seven pounds and is one half of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation tag team champions with Christian Fury as Team Anger, DAVID CROSS!” Funyon shouts out. Oh oh oh oh oh oh Back on earth Back on earth Back on earth The spirit it never lets go Like fountains of sorrow, the faces are crying I'm witnessing all of their pain Death is so final for only the living The spirit will always remain Bury me deep just to cover my sins My soul is redeemed as the journey begins Oh oh oh oh oh oh Back on earth Back on earth Back on earth The spirit it never lets go ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah Another dimension, a river of light I'm twisting, I'm turning, my soul is entwined Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh...... Back on earth (you thrill me) Back on earth (reveal me) Back on earth (still breathing) Back on earth (release me) Back on earth (you thrill me) Back on earth (reveal me) Cross removes his leather jacket and cross, sets them in a corner, climbs between the top and middle ropes, and slides the tag team belt from his shoulder. He passes it to Funyon who exits the ring while referee Doug Vigilante (Relation to former SWF member Danny Vigilante unknown) checks both grapplers for concealed objects. Finding none, he gestures for the two to meet in the center of the ring and he calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! “And this meaningless match is under way!” Riley shouts. “Will you shut up! I like to think that no match in the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation is meaningless. A person’s career can greatly benefit from one victory,” Comet replies. “Well, you can go on thinking that, and I’ll keep thinking Italian butchers are trying to castrate me, but we both know that we’re just fooling ourselves,” Riley says. Dave adopts a defensive posture, not wanting to expose anything for Andrea to swiftly exploit. Drea makes a move to the left, but it’s a feint, and as Cross falls for it, she lets loose a heel kick to his chest. He takes a step back, but Andrea’s already in the air, and she nails him with a dropkick. Cross stumbles into the ropes and grabs hold to steady himself. As Andrea gets back to her feet, David charges out of the ropes, looking to decapitate her with a lariat. Sadly, those plans are dashed as she coils her legs up and goes into a forward roll, avoiding Cross’ attempt. Drea pops to her feet only to get grabbed from behind by Dave and hoisted up and over with a German suplex. “Cross hits the first big move of the night with that German suplex. He’s got to keep Andrea Montgomery grounded in order to win this match, as there’s nobody on the federation roster that can match her in terms of speed,” Comet says. “I hate you so much! You aren’t even my real father!” Riley cries. Cross rises to his feet and reaches down to pick Andrea off the mat, but she quickly scissors his arm. Doug V scurries over in order to ask David if he’ll submit, but Cross quells that with a stomp to Andrea’s torso, forcing her to release the hold. He shakes the pain out of his arm and turns around, right into a spin kick from Andrea. Cross stumbles back and she darts towards him, leaping in the air and scissoring his head. Dave goes up and over from the rana, and she reaches back, grabbing his legs and getting Cross in a pinning situation. ONE! TW...NO! Cross powers out and forces Andrea’s shoulders to the mat. Vigilante adjusts slightly and begins to count again. ONE! TWO! T...NO! Drea gets a shoulder off the canvas and wriggles free of David’s grasp. “Andrea Montgomery tried for that arm scissors, but Cross is too fresh right now to go for that, and he made her pay, but he was caught unawares with a spin kick, and Andrea almost won the match with a hurricanrana, but Cross reversed it into a pin of his own,” Comet says. “No, I’m not married yet! Look, just...just get off my back about it, okay?!” Riley shouts. “Bobby, you’ve made me question my sanity in the past with some of the gibberish you’ve spouted like so much verbal diarrhea, but you’re taking the cake with this one. Care to explain?” Comet asks. “No, the rash is fine. Yeah, it’s all cleared up...no...yes, the cream helped. Thanks...no...look, could we not talk about that right now?” Riley says through gritted teeth. “Forget I even asked,” Comet says, burying his face in his hands. Cross and Montgomery reach their feet, but David is a hair too slow and eats a dropkick to the face as a consequence. He takes several steps backwards, but Andrea closes in and lets loose with a barrage of kicks to his torso. Out of sheer luck, Cross swipes out and manages to knock one of Andrea’s kicks away. She spins around from the force, leaps, and catches him with a back brain kick. “Gamengiri from Andrea Montgomery! She’s got the match back into her favor with that assault,” Comet notes. “Would it kill you to give me some sponge cake with those little pink candy hearts some time?!” Riley shouts. Drea lifts Cross off the mat, snares him with a front facelock, and sends him back to the canvas with a DDT. She pops to her feet and quickly scrambles up to the top turnbuckle. Montgomery sits perched, waiting for David to get up, and she’s rewarded without a prolonged delay. Andrea jumps, scissoring Cross’ head, but rather than attempt another rana, she slides around and drops, snaring the member of Team Anger in a crossface. Before she can bring David to the mat, he grabs hold of her head and locks in a Buffalo sleeper. “Buffalo sleeper from David Cross! He managed to counter that satellite headscissors and crossface hold from Andrea Montgomery, and now she might be close to losing this match. The Buffalo sleeper is notoriously difficult to escape from,” Comet points out. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions! Why can’t you just stop trying to run my life! I’m not you, okay! I didn’t go to college, okay! So what? That’s my business!” Riley screams whilst looking straight ahead. Andrea flails her arms while Doug slides in to ask if she’ll submit. She squeaks out a ‘No’, and before Cross can drag her to the mat, Drea scissors his right leg and knocks him off his feet. She writhes free from David, and manages to trap him in a step-over toe hold facelock. Vigilante slides in to check on Cross who waives the referee off. “Andrea Montgomery nicely countered that Buffalo sleeper into an STF! Now Cross is in a predicament!” Comet exclaims. “Look, I’m sorry about that! I didn’t mean it. Come on, you know I love you. Please, just...look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean any of that,” Riley says. “Is there anyone in the booth that will kindly cut my broadcast partner’s microphone and vocal chords? Please?” Comet pleads. “Really? You want me to pick out the drapes for the new house? That’s...that’s really an honor...” Riley says, choked with tears. David reaches behind him, grabs Andrea’s arms and pries her fingers apart. He kicks his legs out, breaking free from Andrea completely and he reaches down, grabbing her right foot and stands up. “Now Andrea Montgomery is trapped in that ankle lock! Quite a wrestling clinic being put on by Andrea Montgomery and David Cross here tonight! Reversals and counters, and just a great showing of technical prowess,” Comet says, quite pleased with the match so far. “I don’t believe he did that! What a bastard! Listen, you tell him he can’t do that any more, and if he keeps it up, I’ll take care of it myself!” Riley shouts, disgusted at whatever the voices in his head have regaled him with. Dougie V slides in to check on Andrea, but she shakes her head and shakily gets to one foot. Drea jumps and half-scissors David’s waist with her free leg. She leans down, grabs his leg and rolls forward, ripping her foot from his hold and trapping him with a leg scissors. “Shawn capture from Andrea Montgomery! What an amazing and inventive counter to that ankle lock of David Cross’,” Comet says. “Look! I said I don’t want to talk about that! And you promised me you would never bring that up again! I just want to forget about it, okay?” Riley screams. Vigilante asks David Cross if he will submit, but the larger member of Team Anger waives him off, places his free leg across Andrea’s, and rolls over. He quickly leans forward, grabs her feet, and cinches in a figure four leg lock! Andrea writhes in pain and Doug rushes over to check if she will give up. “And David Cross just reversed that shawn capture into a figure four! This match is incredible! And that, folks, is the kind of action you get with the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation!” Comet exclaims. “Yeah, but you have to understand, people is kind,” Riley says. Andrea Montgomery flails hopelessly at David Cross’ boots in an attempt to free herself, but he keeps the hold clamped on. She grabs Dave’s right ankle, lays flat on her back, but before Doug Vigilante can administer a three count, rolls over and sits up with David Cross trapped in a sharpshooter. “Sharpshooter! Andrea Montgomery just countered that figure four leglock of David Cross’ into a sharpshooter! She might be able to get the win with it, too!” Comet shouts excitedly. Vigilante slides over to check on Cross, but he’s already crawling towards the ropes. Knowing she’s not strong enough to stop him, Andrea simply releases the hold and darts for the opposite set of ropes. Cross pulls himself off the mat and cautiously turns around to see Andrea Montgomery rolling towards him. She springs up, cradles his head, and drops to the mat, delivering a sit-out jawbreaker. “Tuckerman and Roll! That’s usually the precursor to Done and Dusted, and unless David Cross can find some escape, he might be going down for the count!” Comet shouts. Drea rises back to her feet, double grapevines David’s right leg, and grabs hold of his arms. She swiftly leans back, driving Cross into the mat head first. Andrea Montgomery rolls him over and hooks his leg while Doug Vigilante slides in to count. ONE! TWO! THREE! Vigilante shoots to his feet and motions for the bell to be rung! DING! DING! DING! “The winner of this match via pinfall after her finishing maneuver with the moniker of Done and Dusted, ANDREA MONTGOMERY!” Funyon shouts as “Just a Girl” starts up once more. “Andrea Montgomery with an impressive win in a match chock full of reversals and counters. Truly technical wrestling at its finest,” Comet says. “Okay guys, I’ll talk to you when I get back to the States. This bill’s going to be through the roof,” Riley says. “What the?” Comet says. He snakes a hand around Bobby’s head and removes an ear piece, and upon yanking at it, pulls a cellular phone out of Riley’s pocket. “Bobby! I’m ashamed of you! Making a personal telephone call during a match. On a Pay Per View event, no less!” Comet exclaims. “Hey! I talk to my mom and step father every Sunday, okay! It’s not my fault that they go to bed early and due to the time zone difference my call happened to take place during this match. Who won, by the way?” Riley asks. “I hate you, so much,” is Cyclone Comet’s only reply. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 "Yes, it's Ashes to Ashes. Funk to funky..." #"We all know Jamie Drazon's a junkie."# "Hi-larious." chuckles Cyclone Comet. "Okay Robert, up next we have a match that many so called 'purists' have been labelling 'an eye candy sandwich...heavy on the breasts'. Two untrained female wrestlers doing battle over an SWF Championship belt that has been in existance for less than thirty days. You could be forgiven for scepticism Citizens, but what Megan Skye and Kelly Connelly lack in pure wrestling ability, they will no doubt make up for in bitchy cat-fighting." "Besides, you've paid for this Pay Per View, so you might as well watch this." quips Riley. "Indeed. Let's get the ladies out here. Funyon, I hand thy control over to ye, kind sir!" "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the SWF WOMEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP!" The crowd erupt...a very manly eruption, kind of like the noise you'd expect to here at a mud wrestling event. If such a thing exists. If so, send details. Meanwhile, the beginning Janet Jackson's "All For You" brings the crowd to their feet as through the curtains emerge Megan Skye and...well, Megan Skye. Looking rather odd on her own, Megan walks her leather clad legs through the arch that leads to the aisle and towards the ring, with the Mancunian crowd cheering her wildly. "Introducing first...the challenger! From Pawtucket, Rhode Island, she weighs in at a demure one hundred and ten pounds. "THE PERFECT 10"... MEGAAAAAAN SKYYYYYYYEE!!!" "No Maddix..." comments Riley in curiousity. "That's kinda odd." "Well not really Robert. The Royal Beatings match is scheduled to be up next...so, as much as I'm sure Landon Maddix would want to be out here for moral support, he has an important match to focus on." "Well, it's just as well he's not! You can't give moral support if you don't have morals." Reaching the ring, Megan slowly climbs up the steps and enters the ring, soaking up the cheers of the crowd as she does so. Already some scattered "Megan" chants can be heard in the background as the determined looking challenger backs into the corner and goes through a few basic warm ups. As she does, "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks kicks in and all around the MEN Arena boos begin to echo out. Not the perfect greeting for the SWF Women's Champion...who also is on her lonesome tonight, extravagantly dressed as ever. She enters through the wrecked church set-up making up the majority of the stage, turning her nose up at the scene that greets her...both on the stage and in the crowd. "And her opponent. Hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada. She claims to be both wrestling's greatest manager and the greatest female wrestler...in the WORLD! The reigning and defending SWF Women's Champion... She is "THE QUEEN"...KELLY CONNEELLLLYYYYY!!!" Kelly stops in midwalk and poses for her 'fans', who haven't exactly come out in force in Manchester, judging from the boos that fill the air. Regardless, Kelly walks on down the aisle with the look of royalty in her swagger. Watching on from the ring, Megan is literally seething, as the Women's Champ reaches the ring and quickly removes the dress part of her lavish attire...taking the belt with it and placing it safely underneath the turnbuckles. Megan continues to glare down on the champion as she walks up the steps, demanding that Megan be moved back. "So, no seconds out here tonight." Comet recaps. "Which means, these two women have to go on their own devices here in this one. There'll be no advice from the Maddixes and the Kings out here." "Yes. But let's face facts...Maddix is Megan's strategist, BUT...Kelly is King's strategist. So you tell me, who's going to have more problems?" "Well...in theory, Megan will." "Exactamundo!" As Megan is pushed back by asigned referee Mark Hebner, Kelly slowly enters the ring and looks across the ring at her opposition. And slowly, a smile creeps across her face. No smiling from Megan though, as she is still casting looks at Kelly that could kill most small animals. Meanwhile, Hebner is trying to check the competitors for weapons...Megan allows him to, but Kelly assuses Hebner of all sorts as he walks over to her with his hands out-stretched. "Now, what has Citizeness Connelly got to hide?" Comet questions. "Her modesty? Her purity? Her..." "Lemme guess, her virginity?" "What!?! Hebner's looking for weapons. He's not going to fuck her Comet." "..." *DING DING DING!* The match is underway and quick as a flash, Megan charges out of her corner and catches the wandering champion unprepared, taking her to the mat with a spear takedown before clawing and grabbing at Kelly's face and hair! And Kelly responds in kind, meaning we've got a good ol' fashioned cat-fight on our hands! First to break her face re-arranging grip is Skye, pulling away from Kelly and slapping her across the face with a right...and a left, then a right...and a left, before another right. Kelly is in trouble, so reaches up and pushes Megan off of her, allowing herself time to get up. As she does, Megan gets back to her feet too and slaps Kelly again, this time sending 'The Queen' stumbling backwards into the ropes. The ropes rebound her away, into the arms of Megan and a quick scoop slam. Pain washes through Kelly's body and she quickly rolls out of the ring, while Megan looks to follow out...only to be stopped by referee Hebner. "Well, you'd expect most full-time wrestlers to shake off a bodyslam like that, but these two females have not built up the tolerance to pain yet." comments Comet. "Indeed." Riley concurs. "I can still remember when I was a trainee and take bumps to the back seemed like the worst thing in the world. But, eventually you become immune to the pain." It's clear that Kelly isn't immune however, looking for more time to recover on the floor. Time she isn't going to get, as Megan Skye has slipped away from Hebner and is stalking after Kelly on the floor. Kelly quickly rolls back in, with Megan hot on her heels. Back up, Kelly goes for a kick but Megan catches it and sweeps Kelly's standing leg from under her. Kelly bounces off the mat, while Megan hooks up both of Kelly's legs and falls slowly backwards, slingshotting her forwards and into the ropes. With her head dropping across the top, Kelly staggers away holding her throat as Megan sidesteps her to get in front... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!" ...to deliver a knifedge chop! Kelly stumbles backwards... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!" ...and takes another, taking her off her feet and causing the Women's Champion to fall into the ropes. And the way she falls causes her arms to get tied up! "Aw, no!" wails Riley. Referee Hebner tries to keep Megan at bay, but this fiesty female wants to get her hands on Kelly and brushes Hebner away. Moving in on Kelly, Megan blocks an attempted kick by the helpless Women's Champion, pushing the foot away and landing a stiff forearm! Shock fills Kelly's face, as Megan nails a second forearm! And a third! The crowd are going wild, as suddenly Hebner ducks in between the two woman and pulls Megan away forcefully, much to Manchester's displeasure. In the time that takes, Kelly has leant back and unhooked herself from the ropes. But Kelly is still dis-orientated, wide open for a clothesline from Megan! Down goes Kelly, getting right back up into a second clothesline. Megan is feeling in control now and moves in on Kelly, not waiting for her to get back up before grabbing a handful of hair and woman-handling the Champ into the corner. Desperately Kelly starts to claw forward at Megan, who avoids the sharpened fingernails of Connelly, ducking in and driving a shoulder into the gut. And again! "Look at this from Megan Skye, driving the shoulder into the midsection of Kelly...softening her up here." Comet goes over. "So far, Megan has being doing a good job of controlling the early stages!" With Kelly weakened in the corner, Megan stands back up and delivers an humiliating slap to the face while screaming some obscenities at the champion which again pop the crowd. Before Megan pops Kelly, with a right hand. So desperatly Kelly swings out with a slap of her own, which Megan counters with a surprisingly smooth armdrag. Kelly rolls through and back up, into another armdrag which dizzies the champion and leaves her stumbling around the ring. Meanwhile, Megan has found a skip in her step and dances her way over to Kelly who is too dis-orientated to defend herself... *SMACK!* ...from a STINGING straight kick into the ribs! The force drops Kelly into a seated position, leaving her clutching her ribs and gasping for breath with eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, Megan keeps on moving, jigging behind Kelly and lashing her across the shoulder blades with another kick! "What scintilatting kicks from the challenger!" Comet gasps, clearly impressed. "Okay...since when did managers learn how to do this?" The force of the second kick leaves Kelly flat on her back, breathing heavily already as the punishment she has taken begins to set in. Across to the corner walks Megan, running out from there and dropping a big elbow on the Women's Champion...but she doesn't make a pin, deciding instead to turn out to the crowd. "YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" It's clear who's side the fans are on, as Megan walks back over to Kelly and grabs two handfuls of her red hair, pulling her up by the roots. Kelly is hardly able to stand, as a clubbing forearm strikes her just under the throat and drops her back to the canvas. Looking at her hands, Megan smiles as she sees strands of the champ's hair tangled around her fingers, souvenirs of a job well done so far. Quickly she pulls the hair away from her hands, only to then grab another two handfuls of Kelly's flowing locks and whip her across the ring with a beil by the hair! This time, Kelly is left screaming in agony, as we can see considerably more of her hair left on Megan's hands this time. "This is just brutal!" Riley wails. "This isn't right...a Queen shouldn't be treated this way!" "If this keeps up, that Queen may be bald by the end of the night." "Don't say THAT!" Wailing away, Kelly holds her head in pain...while Megan walks back over and drives a knee up into her jaw, snapping Kelly's head back and causing her to fall into a seated position in the corner. Back steps Megan, before diving in a dropkicking Kelly right in the jaw! Again the head of 'The Queen' snaps back, but this time she does the smart thing and bails out of the ring with her tail between her legs. "BOOOOOOOOOOO!" The British crowd what they percieve as cowardice on Kelly's part, but she could care less as she wanders aimlessly around ringside. The bad news is, Megan Skye has followed right out after her though and is slowly stalking Kelly with a near-crazed look in her eyes as she grabs two more thick handfuls of red hair. Screaming, Kelly reaches out for some help. But there's none coming, as Megan wheels the champion around and throws her facefirst into the ring apron. Kelly's head bounces off the apron and she collapses to the thinly padded floor with a thud. In control, Megan smiles out to some of the fans who are cheering her on as Kelly pulls herself slowly back up again. "Your favourite little diva isn't faring too well Robert." "Favourite? You mean favorite, right?" "No, we're in England...inventors of the English language, where it's spelt and pronounced favourite." With Kelly up, Megan grabs her opponent by the hair again, setting her up and irish whipping her into the guardrail, which is met by approval from the fans! Some of the front rowers slap Kelly on the back, which makes her desperate to get away from the railings and the unwashed public...but instead, she falls into the (presumably washed) Megan Skye and a quick jab. A second jab is followed quickly with a hard kick to the ribs once more, until Kelly has had enough and seeks the respite of the ring. Megan follows her in and quickly pulls the champ up, whipping her off the ropes and catching coming back with a clothesline that knocks Kelly off of her feet. Megan is ready to go for the pin yet though, instead grabbing Kelly and pulling her up again. A quick scoop and a slam follows, leaving Kelly floundering on the canvas again. "Has Kelly had any offence in this match yet?" questions Comet slyly, knowing how much the question will rile Riley. "Of COURSE she has!" See... "She's the most dominant Women's Champion this federation has ever had, Comet! You'd do well not to downplay her skills!" "When Kelly does something to impress me, I will acknowledge it. So far, I'll admit...she falls over like a real pro." "Oh, SHUT UP!" Pulling Kelly up again, Megan takes her time about bringing Kelly up to her feet...before reeling back and slapping her back down, to a roar from the crowd! This time, Kelly is quick to get up of her own accord, but Megan catches her with a boot into the ribs. A hard kick into the kidneys follows, before Megan pulls Kelly up and pushes her back into the corner. Kelly slumps into the buckles, unable to block a clothesline from Megan...or another deep kick into the ribs. The champion is in serious trouble as she staggers out of the corner, with Megan grabbing her by the hair and hurling Kelly backwards into he buckles. Kelly flies into the corner with velocity and falls into a seated position again, but is quickly pulled back up by Megan and placed in a side headlock. Desperately Kelly pushes Megan forwards, but Megan hangs onto the hair, which Hebner misses, pulling Kelly right back into the side headlock and quickly down with a bulldog! "Another big move by Megan, who's really impressing here. But she's still yet to go for a cover." "That's because she's a vindictive little trollop, who wants to pick poor Kelly apart rather than simply taking her title!" Riley whines. Kelly is down on the canvas and it seems the end is near, as Megan slowly peels 'The Queen' off the mat and grabs her by the wrist. After a quick push back, Megan yanks Kelly back into a short-arm clothesline, diving to the mat with Kelly on impact and finally making the first pinfall of the match... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "YES!" Riley exclaims, punching the air. "See, that's impressive." As Kelly stares blankly into space after her kickout, Megan grabs another two handfuls of hair and pulls her to her knees before lashing her across the chest with another stinging kick. Gasping, Kelly reaches forward and grabs Megan by the pants, pulling her forwards... ...but Megan gets her hands up to block a throat-first collission with the middle rope. Kelly pulls herself back up gallantly, blissfully unaware that Megan is stalking behind her again. Until a kick lashes across Kelly's kidney area, dropping the champion to her knees in an instant. Again Megan is right on the attack, cupping a hand under Kelly's chin while she fires away with a series of punches directly across the cheek and jaw area of her opponent. Each shot rocks Kelly, until the last connects and Connelly flops face first to the canvas. "Megan Skye, dominating!" Comet exclaims. "With fists. Whoopee. She's hardly Jumping Bomb Angel material." Megan steps over Kelly and stalls for a second, before dropping to one knee...with the knee dropping into the side of Kelly Connelly. She then reaches down and grabs Kelly underneath the chin, pulling her up into a modified camel clutch before crossfacing her with the forearm to further daze Kelly. And it works as Kelly's eyes seem a little crossed now while Megan pulls Kelly to her feet, by the hair again which gets a reprimand from Hebner, before whipping Kelly into the ropes. As Kelly rebounds off the ropes, Megan ducks her head...about a week too early, allowing Kelly to dive forward and drive a double axehandle across the shoulder blades of the challenger. Megan falls to the mat, while Kelly lands up on her knees, where she takes the chance to catch a breather. "And there, finally, is some offense by Citizeness Connelly." sighs Comet. "Great! Now Megan's on the defensive, I can safely offload some of my best jokes about women." "Jokes? You?" "Oh yeah, look, I've got stacks of material." preens Riley, pointing to a large pile of papers beside his seat. "I might have known they weren't items of research. Although, I'll give you credit...I just figured it was just gay porn again." With her breath regained, Kelly turns Megan onto her shoulders and makes a desperate cover... ONE! TWO! NOCHANCE! Sure enough, Kelly has had more than enough of her challenger's dominance and reaches down, clawing into Megan's face with her long fingernails and getting a good couple of handfulls of flesh before racking her hands away. Megan grabs her scratched and clawed at face, while Kelly reaches down and grates away again...this time going to the eyes. Squealing away, Megan clutches at her eyes while Hebner reprimands Kelly, who groggily pushes him away before pulling Megan back up. "Now we're going to see how a real woman wrestles." says Riley confidentally. With Megan temporarily blinded, Kelly takes the opportunity to drive his knee into her gut before whipping the challenger across the ring. Megan hits the turnbuckles, stumbling back out and into a powerslam from Kelly. Quickly, Kelly is down to make the cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Kelly's managerial instincts instantly kick in, with the urge to slag off the referee for a slow count proving too much to resist...as Megan is already struggling to her feet in the corner. Quickly Kelly walks in and nails Megan with a primitive looking slap, before placing a foot underneath Megan's chin and showing great flexibility in choking Megan in the corner! Flexibility that even some of the crowd have to show respect for. "Wow...I remember when I used to be able to do that." mumbles Comet. "Hush, I have a joke!" Riley snaps. "Okay, okay... "...how very inappropriate, thank you Robert." Releasing the choke on the referee's count of four, Kelly bows out to the crowd and thanks them for the mainly non-existant applause...and those that did exist quickly peeter out, leaving only boos. Kelly shrugs them off, turning back to Megan and slapping her across the face. And again, this time with a backhand! Megan swings out with a kick though, which catches Kelly directly in the hamstring. Only for Kelly to fire back with an eye gauge, again temporarily blinding Megan and leaving her open to be wheeled around and thrown face-first into the top turnbuckle. Back staggers Megan, as Kelly grabs a hold of her flowing blonde locks and headbutts her in the back of the head... ...which has an affect on both women, with Megan collapsing into the turnbuckles face-first and Kelly stumbling backwards groggily, arms flapping away to keep herself upright. She recovers first though, grabbing Megan and spinning her around into a foot to the gut. Megan doubles over, getting caught in a front facelock...but before she can execute a DDT, Megan's (albeit basic) training pays dividends as she finds the escape to spin behind Kelly with a hammerlock on. Wearily Kelly fires back with an elbow, ducked by Megan who is in perfect position for a northern lights suplex. If only she knew what one was. Instead, she hesitates and allows Kelly to fall back and drop Megan with the DDT. "Huzzah! Kelly Connelly, wrestler extraodinaire!" gloats Riley. With Megan's head bouncing off of the canvas, Kelly sees her chance and hooks an arm under Megan's head, using her legs to cradle the challenger over into a pin... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "You do get the feeling here that Citizeness Connelly wants this match over with as quickly as possible. Considering it was she who started this conflict, it's almost ironic." "You know what else is ironic? Woman's Lib." "I see. Send all complaints directly to the SWF folks." Kelly glares down at Megan, cursing that she was able to kick out. Angrily she takes out her frustrations out on Megan Skye's face, leading with her fingernails like she was Vega out of Street Fighter and scratching down the challenger's face! The screeching eminating from Megan Skye makes the scene look shocking similiar to someone scratching their nails down a blackboard. And just to complete the disturbing scene, the scratches she gives Megan are clearly permanent...leaving Megan with four red, bleeding marks on the side of her cheek! "Ugh, that is disgusting." groans Comet. "That's verging on the realm of savagery Robert!" As the four deep scratches on her face begin to ooze with blood, Megan clutches the side of her cheek and is rather alarmed to see a considerable amount of blood on her hand as she pulls it away. Meanwhile, Kelly has backed away from danger and is busily checking her nails in the corner for any peripheral damage to her pride and joy. Pulling herself up, Megan still looks to concerned with the scratches on her face, rather than Kelly Connelly as she charges in and clotheslines the challenger to the canvas. Quickly, Kelly drops down and makes the pin... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "LET'S GO MEGAN!" *clap clap clapclapclap* "LET'S GO MEGAN!" *clap clap clapclapclap* "LET'S GO MEGAN!" *clap clap clapclapclap* Sneering at the chants, Kelly reaches down and grabs Megan by the hair, pulling her up from the canvas as Hebner has all but given up on reprimanding anyone for hair-pulls by now. Kelly throws Megan towards the ropes and runs off the opposite set, coming back and connecting with another clothesline. Megan hits the mat again, still concerned with her bleeding face, while Kelly stops and poses for the fans which earns her some more boos. "What is wrong with all these 'chaps'?" Riley complains. "Why are they booing this lovely 'sheila'?" "Uhm...sheila is Australian." "Really?" "Yep. Janus'll kill you for that one." Pulling Megan back off of the canvas, Kelly smiles broadly as she looks at the damage she's done to Megan's looks while delivering a knee to the gut. Another connects, and a second...leaving Megan gasping for air, while Kelly pulls her head back by the hair and starts to smear the blood on Megan's cheek all over her face!!! "That's guaranteed to ruin your make-up Comet." chuckles a clearly happy Riley." "This is disgusting!" With her face now smeared with red streaks, Megan looks a total mess...as Kelly winds up and looks to slap the sense out of the challenger. But Megan finds enough awareness to duck the slap, catching Kelly on the way around and hitting her with a big-time atomic drop! Kelly grabs the base of her spine, wobbling uneasily on her feet as Megan spins her back around and nails a vicious slap of her own, spinning Kelly in a 360 to the mat. But again, the scratches on her cheek are bothering Megan and she starts to attend to her face. As she does, Megan turns in the direction of the big screen set up above the stage...and finally, for the first time, she notices the blood wiped across her face and looks horrified. Then unhappy. And then... ...just plain pissed off. "YOU... BIIIIITCH!!!" Letting out a dramatic war-cry, Megan turns around to Kelly with her fists and teeth clenched...damn near shaking with anger as Kelly has gotten back to her knees and asks for a time-out. But she gets nothing of the sort, recieving a kick to the face instead! Down goes Kelly, but quickly Megan grabs her by the hair and literally hauls the Women's Champion back up to her feet before pushing her back into one corner of the ring...and unleashing an furious flurry of stiff kicks to the ribs and breadbasket! "Oh NO!" "Citizeness Skye has erupted into life! Oh my word!" "Bitches be trippin' Comet, bitches be trippin'!" As the last kick connects, Megan roars in intensity and turns away from the corner, while Kelly simply slumps into a seated position in the corner, thankful for any chance of a break at this point. Quickly Megan turns back around though, hauling Kelly back up to her feet again and slapping Kelly with such force that she spins around and falls across the middle rope. Quickly, Megan moves in and ruthlessly starts to choke the champ, with referee Hebner adminishing a five count...which Megan breaks on, only to go right back to the choke again for another five count. Kelly has the look of shock etched back on her face again, shocked at the sudden ass-kicking she's getting again and the pain she must be in. Pulling Connelly off of the rope, Megan pulls her around and irish whips her across the ring. Kelly has just about enough left to hook the top rope however, stopping her momentum and forcing Megan to bring the fight to her. But as she charges in, Kelly raises a foot and catches Megan square in the jaw. Megan's legs collapse under her and she falls to her ass, but is quickly back up...to take a straight kick to the gut. Kelly then grabs some more of Megan's hair and suddenly sits out, driving Megan face-first into the mat with The Facial...and quickly rolling her over for the pin... ONE! TWO! SHOULDERUP! "YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" "Kickout by Megan, and look at the shock on the champion's face!" gasps Comet. "She shouldn't be too surprised. I'm sure that's not the first time Megan Skye has been given a Facial in public..." "Oh, please Robert! Get your darn mind out of the gutter!" Once again, the managerial instincts of Kelly take over as she's right on referee Hebner's case, complaining that if he needs help counting to three he shouldn't be in the damn ring. Hebner brushes off the insults though (after all, he's a referee...he's used to them), while Kelly hooks an arm under Megan's armpit and starts to pull her up from the canvas. However, all of a sudden, Megan dives forwards and plants a rather unorthodox headbutt deep into the breadbasket of the champ! Kelly doubles over, as Megan reaches up and slaps her across the face. Desperately Kelly covers up with her hands over her head, while Megan starts to throw left slap after right slap after left, connecting over the back of Kelly's skull until she finally scurries away. "Megan Skye, going crazy!" "ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH!" "Oh baby..." "ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH!" "...god that song is annoying." Kelly gets across to the other side of the ring, but in runs Megan right behind and slamming another hard kick into the gut once more. By now, the rigours of their first real match are catching up with Kelly and Megan, with both looking considerably weakened as Megan irish whips Kelly across the ring and to the opposite corner. She hits the buckles and staggers out, while Megan jogs over and slams a boot into the shin of Kelly Connelly! "The Skye Is The Limit!" Connelly, like anyone would, bites her lip in pain while holding her shin...hoping around on the other foot, while Megan grabs Kelly over the head and connects with a European uppercut. Kelly is rocked and dazed. She bounces into the ropes and, in a move that reeks of desperation, grabs on a side headlock in an attempt to buy herself a few precious seconds of rest. But quickly Megan plants a hand in the back and pushes Kelly off the weak headlock, into the ropes. Kelly bounces back, getting caught with a boot and then placed in position for a Rocker Dropper. Kelly shows surprising skill to counter though, grabbing Megan's standing leg and pulling it out from underneath her, moving straight forward as she does and stacks Megan on her shoulders... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Kelly doesn't waste time arguing with Hebner this time. She's too busy staggering around the ring, breathing heavily and looking in serious trouble as Megan lines her up and connects with a dropkick. Kelly hits the canvas, while Megan pulls herself back up and wipes some of the blood from her face. Still her face looks like a five year old has gone crazy with face-paints on it, but Megan shrugs all that off and stumbles over to the corner to hop to the middle rope. Over staggers Kelly slowly, as Megan beckons here on. "And now, Megan Skye is looking for the Skye Lyte." notices Comet. "If she connects, it's a new champion." "She won't. I mean...you know, she can't. Kelly won't let her." Riley doesn't sound too convinced though, as Kelly stumbles into a boot to the face from Megan before being hooked into the front facelock. The crowd are quick to get to their feet, knowing exactly what Megan is looking for as she stands up from her crouched position on the middle rope, giving a quick signal to the crowd. But that allows Kelly time to snap her head upwards, her added height helping her to backdrop Megan off from the middle rope. She hits hard and bouncing off of the mat, holding her back as she gets slowly back to her feet...while Kelly throws Skye face-first into the turnbuckle quickly, before turning her around and slapping Megan hard across the jaw! That succeeds in firing up the challenger however and she connects with a slap of her own! Kelly fires back, only for Megan to block and nail a forearm that rocks Kelly into the centre of the ring, giving Megan space to hit another stinging kick, this one aimed at the sternum. And this time, Kelly cannot stay on her feet as the blow drives the wind out of her. "Those kicks of Megan Skye's have been her main arsenal tonight, and you have to say they have been very effective." "Not effective enough...Kelly is still fighting. She's tough and it'll take more than a few Jackie Chan cast-off kicks to put her down." With her senses totally knocked out of whack, Kelly gets to her feet but it's doubtful that she even knows she's doing it...going totally on instinct now. Slowly Megan manouevers Kelly around to face her, connecting with a forearm on the way. Another kick then nails Kelly in the gut, leaving her completely at Megan's mercy as she runs the ropes. Or so it seems. As Megan comes back though, Kelly manages to get a foot up into the gut in pure desperation. Skye doubles over with a groan as Kelly tries to ignore the throbbing pains in her head and ribs, while turning her back to Megan while sitting across the top of his head and attempting to hook up both of Megan's arms, ready for the Moneymaker. But she isn't going to get it though, as no sooner has Megan realised she's in position she stands up, flipping Kelly over her back. Kelly manages to majestically land on her feet, but she labours over grabbing Megan, allowing her time to turn around and jab Kelly in the gut once, twice...three times and then four. Eventually the blows are enough to double Kelly over, giving Megan time to get back to a vertical base herself. Taking a deep breath, Megan then locks on a front facelock and looks for a vertical suplex, lifting Kelly up... ...only for Kelly to flip out of the poorly executed move, landing on her feet and running instantly off the ropes. Around turns Megan and she sees Kelly coming, ducking her head. And this time Kelly doesn't react quickly enough to counter, running straight into Megan and getting hoisted right up onto her shoulders. Shock overcomes Kelly again as Megan stops, turning into the middle of the ring so that the entire crowd can get a good look as she quickly flips Kelly's legs out in front her. Kelly's body follows right behind, as Megan falls to the mat, dropping Kelly down with...an F-5!?! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" "WHA...DID YOU SEE THAT!?!" Comet exclaims, unable to believe his eyes. "No friggin' way...no friggin' WAY!" Kelly bounces hard off of the canvas, as Megan suddenly sits up. The crowd are still going wild, shocked at seeing such a move from someone such as Megan Skye, the noise and the punishment she has taken causing Megan's head to throb away. But still, she has enough to turn the lifeless champion onto her back, before making the cover... ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEE!!! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" *DING DING DING!* The MEN explodes again as Megan releases the cover, clutching her hands over her face in ecstacy as "All For You" hits...hardly audible over the cheering crowd. "We have a...NEW CHAMPION!" Comet says with gusto, also in danger of getting drowned out by the fans. "Megan Skye is the new Women's Champion!" "..." "Robert Riley speechless, I'm sure Max King is the same. For his 'Queen' has been dethroned here at Ashes To Ashes! Can you believe it!" "Here is your winner...and the NEEEEEW SWF WOMEN'S CHAMPION... "THE PERFECT 10"... MEGAAAAAN SKYYYYYYE!!!" Still with her hands pressed up against her face, Megan rolls to her knees as referee Mark Hebner has brought in the Women's Championship belt and places it over Megan's shoulder. She slowly removes her hands from her face and grabs the title, looking at the gold plate with tears running down her blood streaked face and smiling broadly as she looks out across the MEN, hearing the cheers of the crowd. And knowing that she has achieved what she set out to. To become the Women's Champion. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 “You Again?” a familiar voice blurted from the distance. Bob Riley peeped his head from the sports section to see Frisco strutting his stuff in the Evening news Arena. The always-dapper manager was getting quite a reaction from the locals with his Pierre Cardon Tux covering a Manchester United Jersey. “What the hell are you doing here?” Riley barked as Frisco flashed a sly smile. “Business trip” he responded in his most innocent yet least truthful tone. Riley looked on with a puzzles expression on his face. “I can understand running into you at a Smarkdown card, but what the hell are you doing in England?” Frisco just smiled with an obvious look of guilt on his face as pointed to the Luxury suites. “I’ve gotta go. I have people waiting on me.” As Frisco headed away Riley kept a close eye on the charismatic…yet ridiculously controversial…manager. He glanced at his watch and realized he needed to be at the announcer’s table very quickly. As he watched Frisco from the distance he saw Candace joining him in the stands. He tried to dismiss the whole encounter and nothing more than a coincidence, yet could not hide the feeling that something very interesting was going on. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 The MEN Arena is FIRED UP~!, like a Busta Rhymes song, because tonight is Ashes To Ashes and tonight is the first SWF Pay Per View in jolly ol' England for some time. The camera pans the arena, picking out some of the signs in the crowd like 'DACE FOR PRIME MINISTER', 'DRUNK THOTH = LOZL~!' and 'TOXXIC IS A BRITNEY SPEARS FAN'...while one fan is currently getting a hard time as he holds up a Manchester United shirt, despite being surrounded by a number of blue shirted City fans. Meanwhile, with the crowd having gotten their time on screen, the camera leaves the fans and focuses on Cyclone Comet and Boby Riley, wearing a hideously camp Union Jack waistcoat made entirely of sequins. Style guru, he ain't. "So, after title changes...cancelled title changes, title creations, catfights and dumpsters...after all the controversy and all the conflicts, it comes down to this." Comet begins. "Landon Maddix, the supposed two-time Intercontinental Television Champion looks to end the controversy and win the title for a decisive third time to officially equal the record set by Fallout, by Sacred and by Thoth. Meanwhile, Max King is attempting to bury the controversy in his own right. The Dumpster Match still lives in his memory too, so he wishes to put that to rest with victory tonight. Oh, and just to make things more interesting, we have the special stipulation. Robert..." "Yes Comet, we do. This is, of course, going to be a Royal Beatings Match. You can see the cage there hanging below the Hell In A Cell...no door and a roof, ready to be lowered around Maddix and Max. They'll be attached to a leather strap and you have to get a pin or submission, before touching the four turnbuckles in succession. It's really an ingenious set-up." "It's certainly imaginative, yes." "And one that's suited to the champion, Max King. Let's face it, Maddix isn't going to be pulling King anywhere with that strap so even if he does get a fluke pin or whatever, he still has to get to the buckles...I can't see how Max can lose." "So, you don't believe what Landon said...about being happy about the stipulation?" "Not a chance. If he's honestly happy with the stipulation, he's stupider than I give credit. Max King has the advantage in so many ways here tonight. He's been in more cage matches than Maddix. He's stronger. Heavier. There's no chance of Maddix taking the fight to the floor and doing those silly dives of his. The match is tailor made for the champion!" "I guess we'll see about that. Citizens, without any further ado, let's send it up to the ring and to the incomprable Funyon!" "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest...is the ROYAL BEATINGS MATCH, for the SWF INERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!" "YEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!" "Introducing first, the challenger!" Already the crowd are on their feet, knowing just who is on his way..." "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" Out through the curtains bursts the challenger, Landon Maddix, walking through the gothic archway at the top of the entrance with a look on his face that seems to indicate some nerves. But as soon as he sees the crowd, the entertainer within bursts to the surface and Maddix spins a full 360 on the stage, hands out-stretched and a beaming smile on his face. "From Huron, South Dakota. He weighs in at two hundred and eighteen pounds. The two-time SWF ICTV Champion...he is LANDON "LA CUCARACHA... MAAAAADDIIIIXXXXXX!!!" Maddix turns towards the large crucifix that stands proudly to the side of the ramp, looking up at it with arms forward, seemingly asking for some sort of divine inspiration tonight as he turns back around. Already the cage can be seen hanging high above the ring and already, Maddix is looking up at the structure as he walks slowly down the aisle. In the ring, referee Sexton Hardcastle waits with the leather strap which has a loop ready applied to either end to tie the two men together with. Maddix reaches ringside, breaking his gaze from the cage and tagging a few out-stretched hands before diving into the ring and posing for the crowd, who cheer the challenger wildly. "The Intercontinental Television Championship has been almost a sidekick to Landon Maddix in recent weeks...his two title reigns combined lasted 83 days, the longest combined time anyone has held the title. Tonight, he looks to extend that record, while also becoming only the fourth man to win the ICTV Championship for the third time." Backing into one corner of the ring, Maddix removes his "Cheat 2 Win" t-shirt and tosses it into the corwd, causing a mass scrummage in the second row, while referee Hardcastle walks over with the strap. With no words needs, Maddix extends his right hand and allows Hardcastle to attach the strap, not taking his eyes off of the entrance way while Hardcastle does so. "LAN - DON! LAN - DON! LAN - DON!" *BOOOOOOOOOOM!* The chants of the crowd are cut short by an eruption of pyro around the stage, the force blowing out at least one of the stained glass panels across the arch, as "Superstar" by Saliva blares through the arena and the ICTV Champion slowly makes his way out. Walking through the arch, King surveys the scene...ICTV Title belt placed proudly over his broad shoulder. With no Kelly Connelly with him, the solitary looking figure of King makes it's way down the aisle slowly, eyes locked on Maddix's and vice versa. "And the opponent. He hails from Philidelphia Pennsylvania and weighs in at two hundred and fifty pounds. The reigning SWF Intercontinental Television Champion of the WORLD..."THE ICON"...MAAAAAXXX... KIIIIIIIINNGGGG!!!" King shows no signs of emotion as his name is booed vehemently, simply continuing his stroll down the aisle until he reaches the ring. "Well, the valets are obviously not out here...recovering from their match just a few minutes ago." points out Comet. "Obviously though, with that cage set to surround the ring in just a few moments, it's doubtful that they would have had much use tonight." "I disagree. Kelly is invaluable in any match...she's Max King's guidance, if you will. And I'm sure Maddix draws something off of Megan Skye too." "You may be right. In which case, with no guidance, that puts King at a disadvantage right?" "No." King cautiously slides into the ring and it seems that Maddix is already thinking about attacking, but as he sees Maddix ready to pounce, King takes a detour and rolls right back out of the finger. Hardcastle warns Maddix before walking over to King, who is pointing an accusing finger at the challenger. But the referee could care less about that as he wants King into the ring so he can attach the strap. Looking nervous all of a sudden, King begins to look rather parranoid as he looks around the ringside area and out to various parts of the crowd who are yelling abuse at him. "LAN - DON! LAN - DON! LAN - DON!" And there are the chants again. King growls as he hears them grow, growling up at Hardcastle too as he orders the champion to get into the ring. Instead, King kneels down and reaches under the ring, pulling out a steel chair...and as Hardcastle turns to move Maddix back, King sneakily slides the chair underneath the turnbuckles before rolling in. "Hey!" Comet, ever alert, howls as he sees King's sneaky plan. "What does he think he's doing with that damn chair?" "It's a cage match butternuts. No disqualifications. King can do what he wants and bring in whatever he wants." "Yes, but that's not the object of the ma..." "They're in a cage tied together with a leather strap for crying out loud! What difference is a bit more steel going to make? I hope you're not going to be like this through the Hell In The Cell match too." With King in the ring, Hardcastle quickly straps in the champion and tightens up the loop...leaving Maddix and King now tied together. And with that done, Hardcastle now calls down the cage. A buzz fills the arena as the house lights dim, some blue lights spaz out around the cage and some ominous sounding music begins to play...while the cage begins to lower from inside the Hell In A Cell, towards the ring. Both King and Maddix are now looking up at the cage. Meanwhile, Hardcastle lifts the ICTV Title in the air, exhibiting the prize the two men will be doing battle for, before quickly sliding it out of the ring while he still has the chance. Maddix begins to hop from foot to foot impatiently, still watching on as the cage is now right over the ring. And pretty soon it's around the ring. The ring crew are quickly on hand to secure the structure to the ring, while the camera confirms that yes, there is no door and yes, there is a roof so yes, there are no escapes. The buzz still fills the air as Hardcastle waits for confirmation that the cage is ready... *DING DING DING!* ...before calling for the bell. "We are underway with the Royal Beatings Match, a first for the SWF!" Comet booms. "Let the beatings begin!" Both men are understandably looking a little overwhelmed by the structure around them and both now share the same odd look, with as much trepidation as they do anger. Taking a deep breath, Maddix looks across the ring at King, who looks back and both men exchange glares, before Maddix comes out of the corner. Grabbing the ropes, Maddix begins to go through the same warm-up he would before most matches. Only this time, he's attached to his opponent by a strap...and one pull from King catches Maddix unwares and causes him to get pulled to the canvas! Maddix gets up angrily, seeing King smiling wryly from across the ring. But Maddix doesn't lose his cool, deciding instead to applaude King...mockingly of course. "You know, as dangerous as this match is Comet...there's a lot of thought process needed too. I mean, that move didn't hurt Maddix. It was more of psychological tactic." "Certainly. It seems, however, that Citizen Maddix is wise to it." As Maddix forces a grin while looking over the champion, King again wraps some of the strap around his fist as he prepares to pull Maddix off balance again. But while he does so, Maddix sees what's happening and quickly does the same, both men taking as strong of a grip of as much of the strap as possible before taking their stance. The result is both men pulling on the strap, like a tug-of-war. The crowd are quick to get behind the challenger and shout encouragement his way, but the much stronger King is able to get the advantage quickly, reeling Maddix in like a fish. In desperation Maddix tries to dig in his heels, in an attempt to get some traction. But still King pulls until Maddix is just a few feet away, finally giving up on the pull and charging towards Maddix. By releasing the strap though, King causes the still pulling Maddix to fall backwards and King, as a result, misses a clothesline. Maddix quickly rolls through as King turns around, charging at Maddix...who moves, causing King to run straight into the turnbuckles! With the wind knocked out of him, King slowly turns around... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!" ...into a knifedge chop. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!" ...and a second! *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!" ...a third. But King, despite having a nice looking red mark on his chest, seems largely unaffected. So Maddix quickly goes to the eyes, before grabbing a length of the strap and looping it up... *THWACK!* "WHOOOOOO!" ...and 'chops' King across the chest with the strap! King howls in pain and grabs at his chest while staggering out from the corner. Quick to follow is Maddix however, grabbing King by the arm and irish whipping him across the ring. Desperately King grabs the strap as he's sent across the ring but it doesn't matter, as Maddix runs right in after King, not allowing the strap to tighten. King hits the buckles, with Maddix diving right in with an avalanche moments later. Out staggers King again... *THWACK!* ...and this time, the strap is lashed across his back by Maddix! The Manchester crowd cheer as the leather rips through King's flesh and he drops to his knees with a grimace on his face. Meanwhile, Maddix has grabbed the strap again and begins to wrap the neutral middle of it around the throat of the champion, who's eyes burst wide as saucers as the choke sets in! "And already, the strap comes into play!" gasps Comet. "You knew it would be this way, but I'm sure King would have expected to have the early advantage." "Well, he would have if Maddix hadn't luckily fallen over." Scrambling on his knees, King tries to get towards the ropes, succeeding only to tightening up the choke from the strap as he finally reaches the ropes. But there's no need for Maddix to break with no disqualifications, despite Hardcastle moving in to try and get him to do so. Eventually King fires back an elbow though, catching Maddix in the gut and followed up with a second which breaks King free. King quickly pulls himself up on the ropes, grabbing Maddix and with a shout of intensity throwing him forwards... ...but Maddix gets his hands up to block a colission with the cage, before elbowing King in the jaw. The shot catches King by surprise and almost knocks him both down and out, but he manages to shake off the effects of the shot and drive a knee into Maddix's gut. Quickly he follows up with a right hand, before irish whipping Landon across the ring. Hitting the opposite ropes, Maddix ducks a clothesline...and again from the other side. This time King changes his tactics and ducks his head. But does so too soon, allowing Maddix to read it and leap over King, double stomping him between the shoulder blades on the way! "Woah...what a move!" Comet cries. "Who does he think he is, Super Mario? What the hell type of move is that?" It's an effective one as King collapses forward and falls flat on his face, while Maddix has landed on his feet and is running back off the opposite ropes. King is up to his feet with frustration coursing through his body as he turns around with fists clenched, only for the challenger to suddenly leave his feet and connect with a dropsault that sends King to the canvas. Popping back up Maddix now has the strap looped in his hands once more and there's no doubt he's ready to use it. King slowly gets back to his feet as Maddix stalks behind him, waiting to whip King like the proverbial government mule. So it's fitting that King blocks with a mule like kick, sending Maddix stumbling backwards uncontrolably until the strap finally tightens...at which point King pulls Maddix back. He doesn't reckon on Maddix sliding through his legs on the way back though, nor does he reckon on Maddix uppercutting him between the legs moments later! "URRRGH!" "OOOOOOOOOHHH!" King doubles over from the lowblow, holding his nether regions with a startled look on his face and an awkwardness in his walk now. Maddix meanwhile hooks a hand around King's head and throws him into the corner, quick to move in and pop the champ in the jaw with a couple of forearms. Reaching forward, King pushes Maddix a step back, only for Maddix to storm right back in and offload, this time with four quick, stiff forearms. Again King pushes Maddix back and again Maddix charges in, but this time King steps right forward and throws him up in the air... ...but where as La Cucaracha would usually be splattered on the concrete, tonight he's able to use the cage to land on the top turnbuckle! The crowd cheer Maddix's athleticism as quickly he turns back around, waiting for the preening champion to do the same before springing off the top and wiping him out with a missile dropkick! Hurriedly Maddix scrambles over to King as he falls to the mat, making the first cover of the match... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Maddix leaps straight back to his feet with the adrenaline flowing, wasting little time in looping up the middle of the leather strap once more while King pulls himself back up. Once he reaches his feet, King is met with a boot to the gut by Maddix... *THWACK!* ...and a JUMPING strap shot, creating another deep red mark across the back of the ICTV Champion. All King can find the energy to do is reach back and hold a hand against his back now, grimacing in agony as Maddix again prepares the strap... *THWACK!* ...and whips King again. Max is now really feeling the pain and quickly charges at Maddix, hoping to change the advantage of the match as quickly as possible... *THWACK!* ...but runs into a strap to the gut... *THWACK!* ...and another across the back! "Wow, Max King is getting whipped and whipped some more by Maddix, who is clearly loving this chance at revenge!" With a huge grin on his face, Maddix looks down at the length of leather strap in his hand and then back down at King...before looking out to the crowd and asking for their encouragement. His momentary distraction with the fans leaves him wide open however, allowing King to sneak up behind Maddix and push him towards the cage. Maddix hits the ropes before the steel however, bouncing back and taking out the unsuspecting King with a flying forearm! Quickly back up, the ICTV Champion stumbles around the ring, clearly caught off-guard by Maddix's start to the match. Meanwhile, Maddix is slowly creeping up behind the champion and wielding the strap once more. Turning around, King sees the strap and his instincts take over as he quickly charges, head down to push Maddix back into the corner. Maddix can't free his right arm in order to use the strap, buying King the time to pull away and drive a shoulder into the gut. Again the shoulder goes in and then a third time, before King stands back up...and slaps Maddix in the face. "BOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Suddenly the challenger explodes back into life, grabbing King's head with one hand while smashing him in the face with a series of forearms which stagger him back out of the corner and into the centre of the ring. With King dazed, Maddix then whips around and hits the ropes with impressive speed. As he does though, King quickly grabs some of the slack strap and pulls tight enough to clothesline Maddix with, catching him square in the throat! The crowd gasp as Maddix almost 360s over onto his front, his head snapping back violently to the approval of King who now has a smile back on his face. "There we go Comet!" beams Riley. "The resiliant champion with the leatherline, and now it's time to take master Maddix to the woodshed!" *THWACK!* Indeed it is, as King now whips Maddix across the back, causing his back to arch from the pain that rushes through him. Maddix crawls desperately towards the ropes, trying to get away from King but not getting too far before King wraps the leather strap around the throat of "La Cucaracha" and pulls him back in a choke! Boos fill the air now as Maddix claws out for the ropes, the cage, the referee...whatever he can find. But he can't find any of them, as King pulls Maddix back with one hard tug, into a elbow smash that connects deep in the kidney area. Maddix groans and falls to his knees, as Max pulls the strap away from Maddix's throat and instead pulls it across the challenger's mouth, before digging a knee into the back and pulling on the strap with all his might! "Look at this! Citizen King using the strap to it's fullest advantage..." "And he could get the submission from this right here! There's a reason why Max is the champion you know Cyclone." "Yes, but unfortunately neither Kelly or Suicide King are here, so Max is having to go it alone for a change." It seems the challenger may be in danger of giving up phase 1 of victory by submitting as he's getting bent darn near in half, with a leather strap stretched across his mouth and a knee in the back. But Maddix digs deep and fights to his feet, firing back with some back elbows that catch King across the sternum and chest area...until he finally loses grip of the strap, clutching his chest in pain as Maddix pulls himself up. Quickly Maddix moves in, clubbing King across the BUTT of the jaw with a forearm strike. King wobbles, but quickly fires back with a knee to the gut. Maddix ends up stumbling backwards, getting grabbed moments later by King and irish whipped into the ropes. Like before, King grabs a length of the strap and tightens it to use as a clothesline on Maddix, but this time the challenger ducks underneath the strap and schoolboys King over... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Despite being surprised second earlier, King regains his bearings quickly enough to drive another knee in on Maddix as he gets back to his feet, stopping any momentum he was building. King grabs a handful of Maddix's hair and pulls him back to his feet, snapmaring him over before backing off the ropes and executing the flip-over neck snap. Maddix slumps to the side holding his neck, while King gets back to his feet...and points at one side of the cage. "YES!" Riley cheers, encouraging 'his' champion on. "Now things are going to get interesting!" Grabbing Maddix, King hauls the two-time champion off the canvas and quickly clubs him with a forearm to snap his neck back once more. Maddix's legs buckle underneath him and he falls to one knee, quickly getting smashed in the jaw with a knee moments later before being pulled to his feet again. King then hoists Maddix up and lifts him onto his shoulder effortlessly, once again making his intentions clear by pointing to the cage. Looking helpless, Maddix can only look on in horror as King charges towards one wall of the cage...just as Maddix slips off the shoulder of the champ, pushing him forwards as he does... *CHINK!* ...and causing King to crash face-first into the cage!!! "YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" The crowd explode with cheers as King wobbles groggily and aimlessly away from the steel with his eyes crossed, staggering backwards into another schoolboy from Maddix... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "And somehow, Citizen King gets a shoulder up despite having his brains scrambled with a head-on colission with the mesh wall!" "He's a champion Comet!" cries Riley. "And he has the heart of a champion! It'll take more than a puny little cage to defeat him!" Pulling himself up, the ICTV Champion is still looking rather unsteady on his feet after his meeting with the cage, unable to do much more than simply stand on two feet. That allows Maddix to move in and connect with some more forearm strikes, further dis-orientating the champ... *THWACK!* *THWACK!* *THWACK!* ...before suddenly unleashing with the leash, whipping poor Max King across three quick times in concession with the leather strap! King once again looks in trouble as Maddix nails another forearm. But still the two hundred fifty pounder is upright and on his feet, despite having no idea where he is. So into the ropes runs Maddix, getting a head of steam on a clothesline that staggers King back a couple of steps. A second clothesline sends him further back, before Maddix charges in for a third. King sidesteps him though, catching Maddix in the back of the head with an enziguri as he rushes past, with such force that Maddix flips over and lands on his back on the canvas! "Beautiful!" says Riley, applauding away. With the challenger knocked loopy, King drops an arm over his chest to make a pinfall attempt... ONE! TWO! NO! Cursing, King quickly gathers up some of the strap that lays beside him and begins to wrap the leather tightly around his fist. Maddix has sat up but will get no further with a chinlock on by King with the left arm...while the right is now strapped up, allowing him to deliver extra emphasis on a series of right hands on Maddix who tries in vain to get an arm in the way. "Wow." mumbles Comet. "Here, Comet, is where this one gets nasty. The Icon has taken far too much guff from Maddix and now, he's going to take out some serious vengeance on him." Finally King connects with the last leather coated right hand, allowing Maddix to simply slump backwards onto his back before applying a chokehold on the grounded challenger. Of course, Hardcastle can do nothing but watch on, as King starts to sap the air out of Landon's lungs. Eventually he breaks the choke, standing back up slowly and lining up Maddix. He shows no signs of movement, as King drops the point of his elbow directly into the throat area of the challenger, quickly following it up with a lax cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "DAMN IT!" wails King, casting a scowl at Hardcastle as he gets to his feet and makes his feelings clear on the speed of the count. In this time, Maddix is fighting to his feet as well. But King spots him, charging and kneeing Maddix in the back which sends him forwards and falling through the ropes, in between the ropes and the cage, on what little of the apron is on the ring's side of the cage. King smiles as he sees where Maddix lands, moving speedily over to Maddix and pulling him to his feet. Wearily, Maddix slumps back against the cage wall...as King pulls him forward, then using the ropes to snap Maddix back into the cage!!! "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!" Hitting with his back and head, Maddix slowly slides down into somewhat of a seated position, the meshed steel ripping away at the flesh on his back as it grates down the wall. But just second later, Maddix finds himself being pulled back up to his feet. "You know, this is exactly what King had in mind when he chose this stipulation." Riley says gloatingly. "He doesn't just want to defend his title, or just beat Maddix. He wants to put all controversy to rest. And the way to do that is to make a big impression tonight." King connects with a right hand which rocks the challenger, before again looking to push him back into the steel...but Maddix snatches forward and locks on a front facelock on King, in desperation more than anything. King now finds himself in an inconvenient position though, unable to do anything quickly enough while Maddix starts to climb the ropes. Still with the facelock loosely on, Maddix has reached the top rope now as he suddenly pushes off the top rope, kicking his feet off the steel cage and getting WICKED rotation on a tornado DDT!! "RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" "Well, that's how to make a big impression!" cheers Comet with gusto. The crowd roar their approval, as King winds up across the other side of the ring while Maddix slowly pulls himself back to his feet. The meeting with the cage has left Maddix neck further weakened and has also left him with some rather gruesome looking scratches and cuts all down his back. But gallantly he moves in on King and gingerly walks over, leaping over the fallen ICTV Champion and crashing down across his sternum with a senton splash. The move drives the wind out of both men's bodies, but Maddix is able to simply lie back in order to make the pinfall attempt... ONE! TWO! SHOULDERUP! "Wow, that was close." "Phfooey! Besides, close only counts in seahorses and handlebars." "...I'm not even going to attempt to decipher that Robert." Using the ropes to help himself to his feet, Maddix is up and now awaits King to join him. King pulls himself up and quickly lunges at Maddix, who ducks and weaves out of his way before catching the turning King with another forearm upside the head. Falling back into the ropes, King uses their momentum to bounce back and lunge at "La Cucaracha" again. But again Maddix ducks under the lunge. This time as King turns he looks to take Maddix's head off with a big-time right hand, but the challenger is again too nimble to be caught and ducks, waiting for King to spin around before connecting with a majestic dropsault! On landing, Maddix holds his neck...but does his best to ignore the pain as he climbs through the ropes and...begins to climb the cage!?! "Wait just...a second." Comet mumbles, sounding very confused. "What is this idiot doing? There's a roof on the cage! Where does he think he's going?" "I don't know." The Manchester natives don't know either and begin to mumble between themselves, while Maddix begins to scale up the cage as far as he can get before his head meets the roof...at which point Maddix reaches up and hooks his fingers in the mesh of the roof! "No way..." The murmuring of the crowd begins to build as Maddix pulls downwards with the roof, testing the amount of give it has, before finally pushing off the cage wall, leaving himself hanging from the roof! "...what in the hell!?!" Riley cries in disbelief. "He's an idiot!" Despite the fact his two hundred pounds are pulling downwards, the steel threatening to fear Maddix's fingers from his palm...Maddix hangs on and moves forward hand over hand. It's obvious the pain is getting to him, so it almost comes as a relief as King reaches up and tries to pull Maddix off the roof. He can't quite grab a leg though, so King thinks on his feet and pulls down on the strap. Maddix howls in pain as he cannot retain his grip and falls from the roof, catching King in a headscissors on the way down and taking King over in a Hurri-Lanrana! The crowd applaude Maddix's athleticism, while he cradles up King's legs into a pinning combination... ONE! TWO! THREEEE!! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "There's the fall!" cries Comet. "From out of nowhere! And now, Maddix needs to get to the four turnbuckles!" Releasing the cradle, Maddix pulls himself up as quickly as possible and stops, realising that a couple of his fingers have been cut on the way down from the roof. But time is money, or in this case gold...so Maddix ignores it and staggers over towards the corner... *SLAP!* "OOOOONNNEEEEE!" The crowd are ready to count along as Maddix turns away from the corner, in a 360 towards the adjacent corner. But suddenly, King is up...not KOed by the Hurri-Lanrana but rather caught by surprise...and he wipes out Maddix with a STIIIIIFF clothesline! Referee Hardcastle waves off Maddix's sequence and just like that, we're back to stage one. "Nope. That breaks the consecutive sequence...and now, both men now again need to score a fall." "You know, at first, I liked the stipulation. But now it seems more and more like some sort of stupid gameshow like concept. To be honest, it's for too complicated for my liking." "If it wasn't for the second section of the stip, Landon Maddix would be the new champion." "Yeah...it ain't all bad." King is clearly angry at having been caught by surprise and pinned, stomping away on the fallen challenger as he slides underneath the bottom rope in instincts...only to end up trapped against the cage. King continues to stomp away on Maddix, before finally reaching over the ropes and pulling Landon up from the mat and to his feet between cage and ropes. A quick right hand rocks him, before another fully dazes the challenger, allowing Max to back away from Maddix and across the ring. The leather strap prevents him from getting the full way across the ring, but he still gets a considerable run-up distance as he charges back across the ring and towards the floundering Maddix, leaving his feet... ...and avalanching him against the cage! "OOOOOOHHHH!" King backs away from Maddix, who slumps forward against the ropes and is clearly feeling the effects now. Charging back in, King again jumps into the challenger and again crushes him up against the steel with an avalanche, leaving Maddix caught between a two hundred and fifty pound rock and a steel hard place. Again he slumps into the ropes, with King this time pulling Maddix between the top and middle ropes. Dragging Landon into the centre of the ring, it's clear that King has a plan as he scoops and slams Maddix. Already fatigue is affecting the challenger as he remains on the canvas while King backs off the ropes. Coming back, King takes forever and a day over a theatrical elbow drop...but still connects with it, remaining on the mat to try and pin Maddix... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! King sighs and glares down at Maddix, while reaching behind him to scramble together some of the leather strap to use...for choking Maddix! Hardcastle is powerless to intervene as King pushes the strap down across Landon's throat with every ounce of strength and energy he has, causing spit and phlegm to fly from Maddix's mouth while he struggles for every breath. "Look at this...Max King is like a madman right now!" Comet chastises. "Hey, it's Royal Beatings Comet. You didn't expect him to be try and beat Maddix with amatuer wrestling or to try and school him on the mat, surely. Not that he couldn't..." Finally King releases the choke, glaring at Hardcastle as he makes another pinfall attempt... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! ...but even intimidating the referee doesn't get King the count he wants. So the champion clambers back to his feet and starts to scan the ring for ideas, his eyes falling upon the steel chair that lays concealed under the bottom turnbuckle of one corner of the ring. A smile slowly creeps across Max's face as he walks over towards it...but suddenly, the strap torques, and we can see that Landon Maddix is pulling back on the strap with all the energy he can muster. That keeps Max at arms' length from the chair. Not wanting to waste energy by pulling Maddix behind him, Max promptly gives up and stomps back over to Maddix...before stomping Maddix himself, right across the sternum! "As if this match wasn't dangerous enough, Citizen King now wants to utilise that steel chair. Something which Maddix knows spells danger to his aspirations of another ICTV Title victory." Again King's gaze focuses on the chair but, now he's standing beside the fallen body of Maddix, King decides he's better off going after his opponent here and now, so hauls Maddix off of the canvas. A forearm rocks Maddix, before King lifts "La Cucaracha" up and over his shoulder as he did earlier. He also points at the cage as he did earlier, before charging in. This time, Maddix doesn't escape though. This time... *CHINK!* "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!" ...he gets torpedoed face-first into the cage, to the groans and sighs of those in the MEN Arena! "Oh ho, yes!" Riley cheers. "Now Max King is going to do some REAL damage to those pretty-boy looks of the challenger." "A few more of those and this no escapes cage may have an escape route...by way of a hole in the wall. Because Citizen Maddix nearly got harpooned through the steel with that one!" With Maddix still over his shoulder, King takes his time about pivoting around the ring so that everyone in the crowd can get a good look... *CHINK!* "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!" ...before sending Maddix head-first into the opposite side of the cage, with the same results! Still Maddix is up on the shoulder and all hope seems lost now as King again pans around. This time though, King doesn't go for the cage and instead charges into the centre of the ring, spiking Maddix down with a running powerslam that draws echoes of England's own Davey Boy Smith in the process. As such, a mixed reaction greets the move. But not King, who is still being booed like crazy as he makes another pinfall attempt... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "YEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!" "AH, FUCK IT!" screams a clearly unimpressed King, as he slams his fists into the canvas. "Citizen King looks to be getting a trifle frustrated!" Comet declares. "Which could or could not be good news for the challenger." "Oh, it's not good news. The angrier King gets, the more he's going to destroy King...especially, with a steel chair in his hands!" "Oh no." As Riley was in mid-sentence, King has now retrieved the steel chair from underneath the buckles and is weilding the weapon with scary intent in his eyes. Maddix is meanwhile just about coming around, with a clear and rather deep cut having been opened up on his forehead. Sitting up, Maddix takes a deep breath...at which point, the blood REALLY starts to flow and trickles down Maddix's face! "Oh my Lord." Comet mumbles in shock. "Aw my, that's a juice-job Comet!" Riley replies in considerably more glee. "He's busted open like a friggin' watermelon!" Now with blood loss to go with his weakened energy source, Maddix rolls to his knees but can get no further. Now, all around the arena the Manchester crowd are seeing the blood beginning to cover Maddix's head and face...some gasping, some groaning, some of the females even screaming as King cockily swaggers over. Grabbing Maddix by the hair, the champion takes a good look at the cut on Landon's forehead and the smile on his face grows as he pulls away. Still the chair is in Max's hands and he backs up, adjusting his grip on the chair before coming back... "NOOOOO!" *KEEE - RAAAK!* "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" ...with a VILE, VILE, EVIL AND VILE chairshot!!! The howl of Hardcastle's is now replaced by those of the fans', as Maddix slumps to the canvas, the dented chair folded over his head and now making a rather unattractive necklace for the challenger. "Mercy, mercy!" Riley quivers, even he seeming shocked by the velocity of the shot. "Oh, sweet Methusela...no." "It is over Comet. It MUST be!" Maddix is down, Maddix is out and Maddix is bleeding like a stuck pig. Which makes King's pinfall inevitable... ONE! TWO! THREEEE! With the fall scored, King rolls off of the cover and looks down at Maddix...before LAUGHING. And laughing some more, as he applauds his own efforts. "That sick, uncaring son of a bi..." "Woah, woah!" Riley interrupts. "Calm down would you?" "Calm down!?! Look at what he's done Robert and look at his reaction! That is one sick puppy!" "So he takes pleasure in the mis-fortune of others...who doesn't? Except you of course, 'defender of all that is good and lame'." Still in a seated position, Max takes his sweet ass time (and what a sweet ass(OMGWTF!?!)) about rolling from there to his knees and then pulling himself up. Referee Hardcastle is concerned and kneels down beside the challenger to check on his condition, while King swaggers over to the first turnbuckle and slaps it. Hardcastle hasn't seen though, so King yells over the baying crowd to get his attention, before slapping the turnbuckle again. "ONE!" This time Hardcastle calls it and reluctantly leaves Maddix be, as King now turns to the crowd and starts to put the badmouth on them. They respond in kind, but King is still laughing away as he slowly makes his way across the ring. "MAX KING SUCKS! MAX KING SUCKS! MAX KING SUCKS!" Ignoring the chants, King dramatically raises his hand in the air, before bringing it down across the turnbuckle which causes the chants to increase in volume. "TWO!" "Why is King taking so much time here?" questions Comet. "This smacks of over-confidence." "He has a right to be overconfident! He has just killed his opponent, after all." "MAX KING SUCKS! MAX KING SUCKS! MAX KING SUCKS!" Still the chants fill the air and finally King has had enough, stopping between turnbuckles two and three in his sequence to flip off the English crowd...getting flipped off by many in responce. Second after second passes, with King hurling abuse at the fans and the fans giving as good as they get, before King FINALLY turns away from them and slowly walks over to turnbuckle number three. Again King makes as much of a drama out of it as he can, lifting his arm in the air and slapping the buckle... "THREE!" "YEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!" "ROBERT...LOOK!" King unwisely thinks the cheers are for him and smiles. But in reality, the cheers are for Landon Maddix, who has somehow found his way to his knees...looking like death warmed up, but still in the match! "No...no...NO!" "Robert, Citizen Maddix is up! Maddix is up and he's kneeling between King and the turnbuckle he needs to retain the title!" "I know that! But...King doesn't!" Indeed, King is still too busy preening and posing to have noticed Maddix is still in the land of the living. But eventually, something clicks and he realises the cheers can't possible for him...turning slowly and cautiously around, and seeing Maddix on his knees flipping him the double bird! King can't believe his eyes and quickly charges towards the corner he needs, getting to Maddix and attempting to 'climb' over him... "UUURRRRRGH!" "YEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!" ...AND GETS A LOWBLOW!!! "NO!" Riley wails, unable to believe his eyes as King slowly topples... ...and falls, breaking the sequence and sending the match back to stage one again! Hardcastle quickly calls King's sequence off and the MEN Arena is rocked to the core by cheers, as Maddix has used up all the adrenaline and energy he had, slumping to the canvas with King, with one arm landing over King... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "OOOOHHHHHH!" "This match continues Robert...and I for one cannot believe it!" "Make it two...hell, make it two thousand! How in the holiest of holy hells did Maddix recover!?!" "Guts. Heart. Determination. Call it what you will, but Maddix found it and saved the match." With blood pouring down his face, Maddix knows he has to find something from somewhere and grits his teeth, pulling himself to his feet with all the energy he can possibly muster. King meanwhile does the same, much the better off of the two and also with the added advantage of having the middle of the strap in his hands. Lining up Maddix, King swings with the strap, looking to take Maddix's head off. But somehow Maddix ducks, catching Max with a surprise roll-up... ONE! TWO! NOOOOOO! King is quick to roll through, although it's by no means an impressive roll, and get back to his feet where he grabs Maddix and whips him off the ropes. Maddix grabs the strap on his way though, grabbing it close enough in the middle to cause it to tighten and stop his momentum! King is, understandably surprised, but reacts quickly and runs in. But Maddix sees him coming and sidesteps, grabbing Max's head as he rushes past and 'guides' him *CHINK!* ...into the side of the cage! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" Woozy, King staggers back... *THWACK!* ...and gets whipped! *THWACK!* ...and again! Red welts have begun to form on King's bare back by now, only worsened by the renewed strapping they're getting... *THWACK!* ...as a final hard lashing sends him scurrying for cover. But of course, there's no escaping the cage and he simply ends up near the ropes, allowing Maddix to charge at him and connect with a dropkick which nails King in the 'rump'. Comical, yes. But also very effective, as it propells King through the bottom and middle ropes, and face-first into the cage! King bounces back, straight into Maddix who hurriedly wraps some of the strap around King's throat...while applying the Land Of Nod! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" "Wait...NO!" Riley wails, unable to believe his eyes. "LAND OF NOD...WITH THE STRAP!" "NO! That's illegal! He's using the strap to choke him...it's...I...NO!" Trapped, King knows there's no way out...but his title is on the line and he's damned if he's going to give that bad-boy up without a fight. Desperately he crawls forward, but just as desperate is Maddix as he pulls back with all his might on the Land Of Nod, almost pulling King's head from his shoulders in the process. The strap is really digging in now, cutting off the flow of oxygen to the brain and the flow of air to King's lungs...and slowly, but very surely, King is beginning to sap. His energy is disappearing. And he's going...to the Land...Of Nod... ...Hardcastle drops King's limp arm once! "NO!" ...and twice! "COME ON KING! FIGHT IT!" ...AND THREE TIMES! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" "NOOOOOO!" "King has passed out! The ICTV Champion is in the Land Of Nod and now, Maddix has to reach all four turnbuckles again!" Releasing the hold, Maddix...blood in his eyes and all over his face...wastes little time in falling backwards towards the corner and touching the first corner! "OOOOONNNEEEEE!" Maddix then wearily pulls himself up on the ropes, breathing heavily as he looks to go for the second turnbuckle...and nearly decapitates King in the process, as he still has some of the strap wrapped around his throat! The crowd gasp slightly as King's head is wrenched back, before Maddix stumbles over and unwraps the strap. Now the strap is as long as it's going to get, so Maddix stumbles away and towards the second turnbuckle... *SLAP!* "TWWWWWOOOOOOOOO!" "COME ON KING!" Riley wails, desperation growing. "Maddix is two away...TWO AWAY!" But suddenly the oxygen and blood loss gets to him and Maddix falls to his knees. Only to then suck it up one more time and pull himself along the ropes, using them to get towards the third corner. Still he has to find the energy to reach up, and to raise his hand... *SLAP!* "THRRRREEEEE!" "ONE MORE MADDIX!" Comet screams, impartiality thrown out of the window. "But King is up! King is up!" He is. But, King is also incredibly weary and weak...what with just being choked out an' all. Maddix turns and sees King through the blood that is caked across his eyelashes...taking one last deep breath and pulling himself up. So smartly, King positions himself between the turnbuckle and Maddix, leaving the two men at a stand-off. Neither wanting to move neither wanting to give up their position. Until Maddix wearily flips King off again! "YEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Suddenly, King loses his composure, charging at "La Cucaracha" and looking to take his head off with a clothesline. But Maddix ducks, looping up the strap as King turns back around... *THWACK!* ..and nailing him in the FACE with the strap! King goes down and hits his head on the bottom rope as he goes, while Maddix makes a last effort for the turnbuckle. He's just inches away...before suddenly the strap tightens, King having landed on a portion of it as he fell! An agonising distance now seperates Maddix from victory, as he makes one last effort... *SLAP!* "YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" *DING DING DING!* "YES!" Comet erupts. "NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPION! LANDON MADDIX IS THE THREE TIME ICTV CHAMPION!" The MEN Arena has exploded as Maddix slumps into the buckles, getting quickly freed from the strap by referee Hardcastle whilst the cage is being raised from the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match...and the NEEEEEW S W F INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION... FOR THE THIRD TIME... LANDON "LA CUCARACHA"... MAAAADDDIIIIXXXX!!!" The roar of the crowd is deafening now, Riley and Comet not even attempting to talk over the scene as Hardcastle is slid the ICTV Title belt and it is quickly passed to Maddix. He lays sat up against the ropes, blood, sweat and tears covering his face literally as he takes the belt in his arms and finds one last effort to raise the belt in the air. Looking from across the ring, the weary King hangs his head, as Maddix clutches the belt to his chest once more and gets his hand raised to the delight of the fans, each one on their feet as Maddix pulls the belt away to arm's length. And looks at it. Having won it, for the third time... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 The atmosphere in the Revolution Zero dressing room hasn’t changed; the silence is still filled with resentment and distrust. Now, however, it is coming close to what might be the pivotal point of the evening for the group. “Well Sean, you’re up next,” Toxxic says, looking over at the big man from Florida. Sean grunts and rises to his feet, shadowed as always by Marcus Washington. The former Hardcore Gamer’s Champion makes to walk out of the door past the Straight-Edge Sensation, but Toxxic stops him. “It’s fairly obvious Spike is unhappy with the decision I made,” he tells the Perfect Storm, “and I’m not getting a good vibe from you, either.” “Really?” Sean says noncommittally, eyeing the World Champion. “Yeah,” Toxxic affirms. “Sean, I need you to realise that I have only done what I believe to be in the best interests of Revolution Zero.” “Spike doesn’t trust him,” Sean rumbles, “and I don’t trust him either.” “You don’t have to trust him,” Toxxic tells the bigger man, staring up at him. “You just have to trust me.” The straight-edger shifts his gaze to Marcus, who returns it coolly, then looks back at Davis. “Sean, I’m sorry if I haven’t been supportive lately,” he informs the Perfect Storm. “I realise that there’s been a lot of ups and downs for you what with the tag title win and loss, and your second run as HGC champ. I’ve had my own problems to worry about what with Mike Van Siclen, and then Kibagami coming back. I never really spoke to you about losing the HGC the second time. I don’t know whether you had some idea that you’d let us down by losing it so quick.” Toxxic thinks he sees some flicker of acknowledgement in Davis’ eyes and forges onwards. “You didn’t. If you’d lost it and not given a shit... that would have disappointed me. But you were cut up about it, and I know you gave it all you had - there’s no shame in that whatsoever.” “This doesn’t change the fact that you brought someone in without consulting us,” Sean tells his leader, who nods. “I know. And I can tell you that it won’t happen again... but there’s one thing I have to know.” Toxxic steps up to Sean Davis and stares the big man straight in the eye. “Spike wanted to fight me earlier. I think he might still do. Do you want to step up as well?” Sean Davis looks at the Straight-Edge Sensation for several long seconds... then slowly shakes his head. “Not yet.” A lopsided grin quirks Toxxic’s features. “Good. I’m glad, and you should know me well enough by now to know that it’s not because I’m scared of you.” He steps aside. “Go on, Sean. I’m not asking you to trust your new partner with your life - just remember that it’s Todd Cortez who’s the enemy.” Sean nods briefly, and the Perfect Storm and his PA stride through the door and head towards the entrance to the arena. Once they are out of earshot of the Rev-0 dressing room, Marcus looks up at his taller friend. “Did you mean what you said?” he asks. “I meant ‘not yet’,” Sean replies. Abruptly the two men come to a halt as they catch sight of a figure in the dimly-lit backstage area just before the entrance to the arena, which detaches itself from the wall and nods a cool greeting. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” Sean tag team partner says softly, the faintest hint of a smirk playing around his lips. “You’re going to miss all the fun...” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 As the last segment comes to a close, we segue into a crowd scan, as the cameras showcase all those that packed in their mini-vans and spent $75 on T-shirts and foam hands, simply so they could say that they were in attendance at Ashes 2 Ashes. The cameras then rest on our announcing duo, who have called some great action tonight, and are about to continue doing so. “It’s been a wild one here in SWF-land tonight, but what more could you expect from a pay per view extravaganza such as this?” “A cut of the gate would be nice.” “Can’t help you there, Robert, but what I can tell you is that up next we’re going to see some great tag team action. Another chapter in the feud between Todd Cortez and Revolution Zero opens up here at Ashes 2 Ashes, as both Cortez and Sean Davis, Toxxic’s enforcer, have decided to wait until tonight to reveal who they’ll be teaming with!” “Quite frankly, I think this match is going to be the nail in the coffin for Cortez. The man has talent, I’ll give you that. He wouldn’t be the USJL Champion if he didn’t. But he’s taken his loyalty to Mike Van Siclen way too far…Van Siclen isn’t here anymore, he’s done, kaput, bye bye bye. Instead of using that circumstance to light a fire under his ass, Cortez has done nothing but act like an ex-girlfriend clinging to the past. He places the blame on Revolution Zero for taking Mike out, but if Mike didn’t run his yap like he’s been known to do so many teams, he would have never gotten thrown into that situation.” “The word ironic comes to mind when I hear you talking about “running yaps””. “Yeah well, I call it like I see it. You wait and see…Revolution Zero lives to shock us. Cortez could have anybody…ANYBODY on his team tonight. It could be a guy we’ve seen tonight, or it could be a guy we haven’t seen in a while. It could be a girl, a hermaphrodite, or a kid in a chicken suit. The possibilities are endless, but I guarantee you right here, Comet…whoever steps through that curtain still wont’ be able to hold a candle to what the Revolution brings us.” “Only one way to find out, Robert, and that’s by having Funyon take it away!” The spotlight shines down on the ring, as Funyon has already taken position, ready for the introductions. “Ladies and gentlemen, the next contest here at Ashes 2 Ashes, is a special Mystery Partner Tag Team Match!” The crowd applauds, and waits in anticipation, as a few moments of silence follow Funyon’s announcement, until the sound of thunder rolling fills the arena. The lights drop as the barreling sounds of nature continue, and a sharp crackle booms through the sound system as lightning strikes the stage! “F.E.” kicks in, and through the fires lining the A2A entranceway walks The Perfect Storm, Sean Davis! The monster, with his typical intimidating scowl present on his face, walks through the makeshift aisleway of the church ruins that decorate the entranceramp. Rather than wait for anyone to follow suit, Davis continues his path to the ring, rolling his shoulders and sneering at fans who offer their opinions as he heads for the squared circle. “Approaching the ring at this time, and hailing from Jacksonville, Florida, he weighs in at two hundred, seventy pounds…The Perfect Storm, SEEEEEEAAAANNN DAAAAAAAAY-VISSSSSSS!” “Sean Davis is apparently a believer in waiting until the last possible second, because I don’t see anyone, Robert.” “Relax, Comet. The wait will be worth it.” Davis gets in the ring, and stands by the ropes, looking up the aisleway. Funyon approaches him and softly asks who his partner is going to be, but The Perfect Storm turns and glares at him, causing Funyon to take a big gulp and simply step back and wait along with everyone else. The arena goes black, and fans at home leap up to pound on their cable boxes, as suddenly, the screen starts turning to snow, the sound of static crackling and overpowering the crowd noise! “Aw dammit Comet, what did you do to the monitor?” “I didn’t touc…” “There is nothing wrong with your television set.” “Do not attempt to adjust the picture." “We will control the horizontal.” “We will control the vertical.” “We are controlling transmission...." The lights in the arena dim, as a reaction of shock and surprise falls over both the fans, as well as our announcers. “Riley, do you know whose voice that is?” “Of course I know, and I can’t believe it myself!” “Tainted” by Lycia plays softly, as the entranceway is glistening with spotlights, all focused on one man…SACRED! The superstar, having been absent for some time, slowly walks through the setup, slowly continuing on down the aisleway and looking straight ahead, not giving in to any fan reaction. “I told you Comet, I TOLD you that Revolution Zero had something big up there sleeve, and look! You look at who’s walking down that aisle right now, and tell me that that’s not the best partner money can buy!” “There’s no doubt that in a war like this I’d want Sacred on my side. I guess we’ll have to see how he co-exists with his new partner tonight.” “Hah. One word Comet: cakewalk. Cortez is done.” “We’ll see.” Davis backs up, as Sacred climbs up the ring steps, and enters the ring. Both Funyon and referee Sexton Hardcastle do a double take making sure that this goateed man is in fact who they think it is. Once the glaring, yet baggy blue-green eyes look back at them, Funyon and Hardcastle are sure they have the right guy. “Introducing Sean Davis’ mystery partner…this…is…SAAAAAAAACRRRREDDDDD!” Unaware of his allegiances, hometown, or any of that other announcement filler, Funyon does his job as quickly as possible, stepping away from the two intimdating superstars so that he can introduce their opponents. “All right, let’s see what the Urban Legend is bringing us tonight.” “Relief, because after tonight, I won’t have to see his thuggish ass again.” “It’s always about the asses with you, isn’t it?” The lights drop, cloaking the arena in shadows of darkness, until a green spotlight shines down onto the entranceway. “BREATHE” “Oh!” “One and then the two, two and then the three, three and then the four, then you gotta BREATHE!” “Then you gotta…then you gotta…” “Yo, these n*ggas cant’ BREATHE when I come through…” Fabolous’ “Breathe” booms over the PA system, while a burst of golden pyro shoots up from either side of the stage! Every time the word “Breathe is heard, the spotlight pulses, causing a strobe effect, as through the desecrated church décor emerges the Urban Legend, clad in baggy pants, sunglasses and…a bulletproof vest!? “Their opponents…first, hailing from Hollywood Boulevard, and weighing in tonight at two hundred, twenty six pounds…the reigning USJL Champion…the URBAN LEGEND, TODDDD CORRRRTEZZZZZ!” “Comet, stop dancing in your seat!” Cortez jumps up onto one of the church pues, jogging across it and throwing his USJL belt up in the air, nodding his head to the beat and greeting the crowd with energy, as they go wild for the rookie superstar. “In less than one year, he can claim a USJL Championship, as well as the fact that he was one part of the longest reigning SWF World Tag Team Champions…” “…and in less than a year, he would have been run out of the sport he loves by those two men in the ring!” Davis and Sacred do not look impressed, as Cortez powerwalks down the aisleway, slapping some hands before stopping short, standing in the center of the aisle. He takes off his sunglasses and looks up into the ring, seeing the opposition standing there. Cortez motions for Funyon to toss him the microphone, apparently wanting to say something before the match gets underway. The music dies out, and Todd takes the mic up, hesitating for a moment so that a small “Todd” chant can quiet down. “Sean Davis…I know what you’re thinking. You want to make good on a promise, on a vow that you and your friends made to get rid of me. Well brah, that ain’t happening, not tonight, not next week, not ever. I’m not leaving this company, this sport, until I decide to, not because some jacked up jackass wants to carve a career out of sending me home!” The crowd roars, while Davis frowns, extremely unimpressed. “So tonight, Sean Davis, Sacred…I knew who I had to turn to. Someone reliable, someone that could stand up to the Revolution, and not fall under their spell. Someone who, I guess you could say, was ready to make a spectacle of themselves here at Ashes 2 Ashes…” “Comet, is he saying what I think he’s…” Riley’s comments are cut off by Cortez, who takes the mic again. “So, let’s not wait any longer…here’s MY tag team partner!” “Breathe” starts up again, and bursting through the curtain is…a masked man? “Wait a second…WAIT A SECOND, Comet!” No folks, not THE Masked Man, sorry. Instead, it’s a man shrouded by a white hood, although his ring gear…baggy tights with an “HB” logo, and an oversized Hollywood Boulevard T-shirt, looks strangely familiar. Sacred taps Davis on the shoulder, asking about this, but all The Perfect Storm can do is fume, as the crowd welcomes this masked competitor with a huge pop, probably due to familiarity. “Comet, no way, don’t start this match! That’s Mike Van Siclen!” “What? You’re crazy!” “Comet, are you looking at the same guy as me?” The masked character comes down the aisle, and he and Cortez slap hands, then hug, looking like long lost friends reuniting. Cortez takes the mic, and turns around, smirking at Davis and Sacred. “What’s the matter guys…looks like you’ve seen a Ghost.” With that, Cortez drops the mic, unstraps his title belt, and quickly kisses his cross before he and his partner storm the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and quickly getting into it with Davis and Sacred! Cortez and Davis pair off, as do the two partners. Sacred drives a knee into the masked person’s gut as he stands, while Cortez rains on the Perfect Storm with wild left and right hands. Sacred whips the masked man into the ropes, but the mystery person is too quick, sliding through his legs on the rebound, and then taking Sacred by his grown-out hair and hurling him over the top to the floor! Davis has overpowered Cortez by now, hammering on his back with forearms. He backs up, giving the Urban Legend some space to get to his feet, and priming him for something…until he’s dropkicked from behind by the masked man…RIGHT INTO A TODD CORTEZ SUPERKICK~! “That’ll put your dental plan to use!” Cortez sees Sacred hopping back up on the apron, and sprints across the ring, knocking him back to the floor! The mystery man holds Davis at bay in the corner, but is then overpowered and shoved into the corner himself! Davis rams a pair of shoulderblocks into his ribs, and then whips him across the ring, towards Cortez, who is turning around. As the masked man’s momentum carries him towards his partner, he ducks, allowing Cortez to leap over him…RIGHT INTO A DAVIS LARIAT…NO! Cortez runs under it, jumping up to the second rope and then leaping backwards, turning in midair to crash onto Davis with a bodypress! Cortez rolls right off, but stays on all fours, as the masked man comes running and springs off his back, onto a shaken Sean’s shoulders and snaps him over with a huracanrana! “SEE! SEE COMET! Blatant double teams…the Boulevard trademark!” The crowd goes wild, and Cortez pops up and throws his hands up into the air, as Davis rolls out of the ring to meet with his partner. Sacred doesn’t seem to happy at this turn of events, and Davis complains right back, telling him “It’s Van Siclen, he don’t belong here!” “Excellent teamwork by Cortez and…uh, this…Ghost that he’s brought with him tonight.” ”Ghost? GHOST? Call him what he is, Comet. Call him Mike Van Siclen!” “Innocent until proven guilty, Robert.” “This isn’t The Practice, you nincompoop!” The crowd roars as the two fan favorites work each side of the ring. Suddenly, the fans break out in a chant…a chant that makes Todd Cortez smirk. “BOUL-EH-VARD!” “BOUL-EH-VARD!” “BOUL-EH-VARD!” “For ONCE, these people aren’t as stupid as they seem!” Davis and Sacred get up on the apron, with The Perfect Storm complaining to Hardcastle about his thoughts on who is under the hood. Across the ring, The Ghost and Todd Cortez converse, and Cortez says he’ll start the match, patting his partner on the back as he exits. Cortez waves his foes on, and Davis goes to enter, but he’s stopped by Sacred, who enters the ring and says to get back on the apron, and that HE’LL take care of the USJL Champion. DING! DING! DING! The official bell is rung, and action is underway, as Cortez and Sacred go right into a lockup. Sacred grabs the headlock, but is shoved into the ropes by Cortez, who winds up on his back courtesy of a rebound shoulderblock. Sacred runs the ropes, and Cortez pops up, leapfrogging over him as he charges through, then catching him with a hiptoss…NO! Sacred drives a knee up into his stomach, and then snaps him over with a suplex! The Urban Legend gathers himself and recovers quickly, but as he’s standing Sacred strikes again, pulling him back to the canvas with a Russian Legsweep! “Well, Sacred doesn’t appear to have much ring rust.” Following the legsweep, Sacred pulls Cortez up into a seated position, then quickly follows up with a dropkick to the back of his neck! Cortez rolls over, pushing up off the mat, but finds himself against the ropes. Sacred takes him by the arm and Irish whips him, but misses Ghost tagging the back of his partner as he hits the ropes! Cortez wraps his arm around the top rope, preventing him from moving towards Sacred, so the returning superstar charges, only to be dumped over the top! Sacred lands on the apron, but before he can react, Ghost jogs across the apron and knocks him off the apron with a running elbow! “That’s illegal!” “He’s the legal man!” “Yeah…well…technicality!” Sacred picks himself up quickly, but Cortez comes and grabs the top rope, nodding to Ghost, who pulls on the top rope and brings Cortez over it, assisting in the Urban Legend’s successful pescado attempt on Sacred! The crowd applauds the tactic as Cortez gets up and rolls Sacred into the ring, where Ghost picks him up and then brings his arm up under his chin, staggering him with a European uppercut! Sacred stumbles back into the corner, and Ghost runs up to the second rope, raising his fist in the air to draw a loud cheer from the crowd before pummeling his foe! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI- The punchfest is broken up by Sacred shoving Ghost down to the canvas, although the mysterious superstar lands on his feet! He moves in for the kill, but Sacred uses a quick go-behind, and pulls him up, dropping him on the back of his head with a German Suplex! ONE! And one is all it gets, as Ghost throws up a shoulder rather quickly. The move has kept him stunned, however, and Sacred quickly tags in Sean Davis. The crowd jeers at the entrance of the big man, and as he goes for Ghost, Sacred picks up Ghost, holding him in a front facelock…and then drops him stomach first across the top rope! “Now Robert, THAT was illegal.” “No it wasn’t. It was fun.” Ghost falls back into the ring at the feet of Davis, who gives a look to Sacred as if to ask why he bothered doing that. Sacred motions for Davis to do his dirty work, and as if he needed any encouragement, The Perfect Storm pulls Ghost up, tearing at the mask and trying to show the world the man under the hood. Ghost grabs Davis’ hands, doing his best to pry their grip away, but Sean delivers a boot to the stomach, then backs into the ropes and comes off with a kneelift that sends the masked man to the mat! Like a lion stalking its prey, Davis stands over Ghost, watching as he tries to shake the cobwebs loose, and then pulls him up by the mask again. Once again, Davis tears at it, but can’t get it off…so he pulls back on the head of Ghost, smashing him headfirst into the canvas! Ghost rolls to his feet and holds his head, and Davis again backs into the ropes, this time coming off with a LAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRIAAAATTTT~! that floors the supposed Van Siclen! “That stiff arm of Davis just turned the Ghost inside out!” Davis turns to Cortez, eyeing him and spitting in his direction before he turns his attention back to Ghost. Davis pulls him up, driving a knee into his temple, and then a second…and then a third, before he reaches down and pushes the weight of his rival up into the air! Davis holds Ghost over his head, the sinister scowl directed at Todd Cortez…and then Davis releases, not looking over his shoulder to see Ghost fall facefirst to the mat! “Look at the intensity…the anger in Sean Davis’ eyes. Todd Cortez picked the wrong people to play games with!” Davis points towards Cortez, making threats as he focuses on Ghost, stomping on the back of his head as he goes to get up. Davis jerks him up off the canvas, and stands behind him, hooking his arms under both of Ghost’s and putting pressure on his neck by applying a full nelson! The hooded one squirms, but cannot slip through the thick, muscular arms of Davis, who waves his trapped foe in the face of his partner, Cortez! “You can’t exactly read expressions through a mask, but I’m inclined to say this isn’t doing wonders for Ghost.” Cortez leans over the ropes, reaching out as far as he can in hopes of making a tag to spare his partner further injury. Grunts and groans out of exhaustion are heard from Ghost, as Davis tries to force him down to the canvas while still hooked in the full nelson. Ghost continues to put up a fight, trying to inch further towards his corner…but Davis breaks up the possible shift in tide by pulling him up and dropping him on the back of his head with a full nelson slam! “My God, Comet…his neck bent at a 90 degree angle!” Ghost holds his head, and cannot protect himself from the monster Davis covering him… ONE! TW-NO! …Cortez ducks into the ring and delivers a boot to the side of Davis’ head, sparing his partner defeat! The Perfect Storm pounds the mat and gets up, approaching Cortez, who quickly retreats out of the ring at the urging of referee Hardcastle. Davis brushes the diminutive ref aside, and gets in Cortez’s face, daring him to step into the ring. Cortez, not afraid of Davis at all, accepts his foe’s challenge, and steps through the ropes to a big pop! A fuming Davis offers some choice words to the Urban Legend, and Cortez absorbs it all, allowing Davis to get it off his chest…and gives Ghost enough time to recover and roll him up! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! “Todd Cortez playing it smart, using Revolution tactics against Davis in hopes of defeating he and Sacred.” “Revolution tactics? You mean Boulevard tactics! I don’t care what these fans think of them, thought of them…whatever. Mike Van Siclen was one of the dirtiest players in the game, perhaps the best. The Boulevard was based on cheap tactics like that!” “Really, that’s funny, because I thought they were, for most of their run, dominant due to ability and skill.” “Sure, the ability to cheat, go behind the ref’s back, and blatantly double team wrestlers much more worthy of their accolades.” “Uh huh, ok, Bobbo.” Davis gets up and lumbers towards a weary Ghost, but the whitefaced warrior lunges for him, stunning him with an inverted atomic drop! The exhaustion having knocked him off balance, Ghost stumbles backwards after delivering the move, but luckily it’s closer to his corner, allowing him to reach up and tag in the Urban Legend! The crowd buzzes with joy as Cortez drops the tag rope and quickly hops up to the top, flying into the ring and sending both of his feet into Davis’ chin, dropping the big man with a missle dropkick! Cortez bounces right back up, waving his arms in a frenzy before he turns to the opposing corner and knocks Sacred off the apron! Hardcastle warns him for his tactic, but Cortez shrugs him off, taking Davis and Irish whipping him into the ropes, then delivering a standard dropki-NO! Davis clutches the ropes, watching as Cortez hits an airball and crashes to the mat! The Urban Legend picks himself up instantaneously, but Davis bolts forward with a tackle, lifting Cortez up off the mat and then dropping him with a snap spinebuster! Davis spits on Cortez, throwing in some insult to injury as he backs off, wiping the sweat from his brow and tagging in Sacred, who’s just recovered from being sent to the floor! Sacred eyes Davis about the tag, but the Perfect Storm ducks out of the ring, panting for air. Sacred continues to look at Davis, his body language showing that he wasn’t prepared for the tag. Davis ushers him into the ring, waving him on so that they can stay in control. Sacred enters, but shakes his head in disbelief as he moves to attack Cortez. “Looks like trouble in paradise if you ask me, Robert.” “Yeah, well I haven’t said anything for the last two minutes, so I think you just wanted to throw that in there on your own.” Sacred backs Cortez up into the corner, throwing his arms over the ropes and exposing his chest, then gliding his hand across it with a… SMACK! …brutal knife edge chop! SMACK! Sacred uses a second! SMACK! And a third! SMACK! And a fourth! Sacred then drags Cortez away from the corner, but the Urban Legend swings his hands up, knocking Sacred’s grip away and then taking his head, ramming it into the top turnbuckle! Cortez spins Sacred around, now cornering him, and pulls his arm back, then slices forward with his own chop! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Before Cortez connects with a fourth one, Sacred jabs a thumb to his eye, blinding him! He sits up on the top rope, and holds Cortez in a front facelock as he kicks off the ropes, spinning around and dropping Cortez with…NO! Cortez shoves Sacred off of him, but the returning rulebreaker lands on his feet, and runs forward, jumping up onto Todd’s shoulders and hitting a rana that sends Cortez rolling across the canvas! Cortez tries to gather himself in enough time to get some defense going, but Sacred comes over and wraps his arms around his waist, tucking his head off to the side before carrying Cortez over with a Northern Lights Suplex! ONE! TWO! NO! Cortez starts bridging out, forcing both himself and Sacred to their feet! Cortez turns his body, holding Sacred in a standing headscissors before pulling him up for a power…NO! Sacred rolls over Cortez’s back, cradling him with a sunset flip! ONE! TW-NO! Cortez rolls through…BASEMENT DROPKICK TO THE FACE OF SACRED! “I think he swallowed some teeth!” The crowd applauds that little sequence, as Cortez keeps the momentum going by hitting the ropes and connecting with a legdrop! He covers Sacred, pulling back on the leg as Hardcastle darts to the canvas for the pin. ONE! TWO! TWOOOOOOOOO! Unable to keep him down for the three count, Cortez pulls Sacred to his feet, taking him over to his corner and tagging in the mystery man. Ghost steps in, and Cortez scoop slams Sacred down, then runs the ropes. Ghost positions himself so that he stands in his way, lowering his head as Cortez rebounds towards him, and elevates Cortez up in the air with a backdrop…LANDING IN A SENTON ONTO SACRED~! “That was more than a five count, Hardcastle!” Cortez slides under the bottom rope, juiced up on adrenaline and working the crowd, as his partner makes the cover. ONE! TW-NO! Sean Davis drags Ghost off of Sacred! “Why aren’t you complaining about that, Robert?” “Are you kidding me? They’re entitled to fight fire with fire!” Both Ghost and Sacred get to their feet at the same time, and Sacred connects first with a right hand, staggering his foe. Ghost retaliates with one of his own, and the match begins breaking down in fisticuffs! The two superstars duke it out, until Sacred starts delivering punches with great fury, knocking Ghost for a loop. The masked one falls towards the ropes, but he’s pulled up to his feet by Sacred and sent to the far side. Sacred tries to catch him on the rebound, but Ghost hops behind him, and applies a rear waistlock. He runs forward, pushing Sacred towards the ropes and rolls him up…but before Hardcastle can make a one count, Davis has rushed into the ring and bounced off the ropes, breaking up the pin with a LARRRRRRIAAAATTTTO~! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Davis sneers at his fallen foe, and tells Sacred to take care of business…but he’s nailed from behind by Cortez, who charges into the ring! Cortez hammers on the big man’s back with forearms, then throws him back into the corner, where he starts kicking at his ribs! The crowd is apeshit as Cortez brawls with The Perfect Storm, but before he can do any further damage he’s pulled away by Hardcastle, and ordered back out to the apron. Cortez protests, but the argument with the ref buys Sacred and Davis time, as together they pull up Ghost and drop him across both of their knees with a double gutbuster! The fans in the Evening News Arena continue their booing, as Sacred steps out to the apron, leaving Davis the legal man without actually making the tag! Davis yanks Ghost up, and presses him up over his head again, showing off his strength for the crowd before dropping him on his knee for the second time in as many minutes! “Davis and Sacred are working the ribs now, and with the power behind Sean Davis’ moves, he could turn those bones into dust rather easily.” Ghost rolls on the mat, kicking his legs as he tries to curl up, wounded from the two gutbusters. Davis, like a shark that smells blood, stands over him, and reaches through the eyeholes of his mask to pull him up to his feet, then shoves him forward into the turnbuckle, smashing Ghost’s sternum against the pads! Ghost staggers back, and Davis crouches down, sliding his head through Ghost’s legs and getting him up on his shoulders, then pushing him off, sending him falling facefirst onto the top turnbuckle pad! Ghost doesn’t move after that, instead slouching down in the corner before Davis pulls him away, keeping him captive in the middle of the ring…and applies an abdominal stretch! “It’s simplicity at it’s finest, but it works. Sean Davis is clearly going to expose the weakness of Ghost’s ribs for all it’s worth.” The Perfect Storm is able to keep Ghost held in place, listening with glee as his rival, the one he is convinced is Mike Van Siclen, grunts in pain. Hardcastle makes sure to stand close by, listening for a possible surrender, as a concerned Cortez watches his partner trapped in the submission hold. “Sean Davis’ power is more than enough of a match for anybody, but combined with the anger he feels at being made a fool of tonight…let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be either Cortez or Van Siclen right now.” “Robert, we still do not know if that is Citizen Van…” “Comet, don’t start with me.” Their respective partners look on, as Davis and Ghost remain in the center of the ring, the enforcer of Revolution Zero keeping the stretch applied. Ghost outstretches his free arm, desperately hoping that the distance between he and his corner will become shorter, but his valiant effort is deterred by Davis clubbing him in the kidney with a vicious forearm! Davis pulls him even further away from his corner, closer to where Davis’ partner, Sacred, stands. Hardcastle keeps his eyes on Ghost, asking if he surrenders…and as soon as his view is obstructed, Davis calls to Sacred and extends his hand out, grabbing ahold of Sacred’s and using his partner to add leverage to the maneuver! “Come on Hardcastle!” “Oh please, if anything he should let this go to make up for missing all the Hollywood Boulevard cheating that’s gone on.” “That’s not Hollywood Boulevard.” “What shirt is Ghost wearing?” “Hollywood Boulevard.” “I rest my case.” “Robert, the guy with three teeth and a basket of fries in the third row has a Boulevard shirt on too. I don’t think he’s on the team.” “Yeah, sure you don’t…until he runs in and tosses his nacho cheese in Sacred’s face!” “You’re off your meds again, huh?” Every time Hardcastle raises his head up, Davis manages to let go of Sacred just in time, although the referee begins to think something is afoot. Across the ring, Cortez starts a rally, stomping on the apron and pounding the turnbuckle, getting the fans into it and hoping it will charge Ghost’s adrenaline. The masked man starts to stir, trying to force his arm up and carry Davis over, but another kidney punch blocks the rally from going any further, and Davis reaches back for Sacred…ONLY TO HAVE HIS HAND KICKED AWAY BY HARDCASTLE! GHOST CARRIES HIM OVER WITH A HIPTOSS! “That should be a DQ for interference!” “Are you telling me you want Hardcastle to disqualify them for his enforcing of the rules?” “Well, yeah!” Ghost falls to all fours, and Davis is more shocked than hurt. The big man gets up and towers over Hardcastle, infuriated at what just happened. Quickly, he turns to Ghost and goes to pull him up, but the masked man is dead weight, and collapses back to the ringmat. Davis snickers, turning to Sacred and making a face as if to say “it’s all over”, and goes to pull him up again…then catches a headbutt in the bread basket! “He hit him low!” Davis hunches over, and Ghost reaches up, grabbing Sean’s head and pulling his chin down onto his own head, rocking him with a jawbreaker! The crowd pops loudly as the masked superstar slowly crawls away, heading for the Urban Legend! “TAG!” “TAG!” “TAG!” Every inch seems like a mile, but Ghost struggles, forcing himself to complete the trek, as Todd Cortez holds onto the tag rope and leans in, eagerly awaiting his partner. Davis rolls over, reaching up to tag in Sacred, and The Sacred One comes running, just as Ghost is about to make the tag… …AND GRABS HIS LEG, PULLING HIM AWAY FROM HIS CORNER! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Manchester fans tear into Sacred for deflating their hopes, as he pulls Ghost up and sets him up for a back suplex…only Ghost floats over, landing on both his feet…AND TAKES SACRED OFF GUARD WITH A BACK SUPLEX OF HIS OWN~! “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Ghost sits up, still foggy from the beating he’s taken, as Cortez calls to him, waving him towards the corner. Ghost gets up, and Sacred is in no position to stop him, as he’s reeling on the canvas, so GHOST MAKES THE TAG~! “Here comes the Urban Legend!” Cortez charges in, knocking a recovered Sacred down with a clothesline, then running towards the opposing corner and knocking Davis off the apron with a running forearm shot! He turns back to Sacred and picks him up, whipping him into the corner, and then charging in immediately after, crushing him with a running corner splash! Sacred staggers away, and Cortez jumps to the top, but before he can follow up, Davis jumps up and holds his leg, preventing him! Cortez kicks him away, again knocking him down to the floor, but on his feet. Davis looks up, and the only thing he sees is the sight of Todd Cortez in midair, bringing his full body weight down onto The Perfect Storm with a flying bodypress! Back in the ring, Sacred looks around, looking for Cortez, and sees him on the outside, standing over a fallen Davis. Sacred takes advantage of this scenario, surprising Cortez with a baseball slide that sends him into the guardrail before heading outside and attacking him! “It’s breaking down in a big way here, and…waitaminute…look at this…” Comet is cut off by the sight of Ghost jogging across the apron, ascending the turnbuckles near the pile of wrestlers on the floor. As Sacred pounds on Cortez, he’s unaware of what’s going on…until Ghost leaps off, doing a somersault in midair before crashing down onto both opponents and his own partner! “HOLY SHIT!” “HOLY SHIT!” The fans are in an uproar, as Ghost picks Sacred up and rolls him into the ring before aiding his partner Cortez. Todd gets up and assures Ghost he’s fine, rolling in after Sacred and knocking him off balance with a dropkick to the back of the knee! Sacred clutches his leg, and with him down and hurting Cortez calls to Ghost, who hops back up onto the top rope and delivers a picture perfect, very familiar looking flying elbow smash! “That’s Van Siclen’s elbow!” “Oh, now you’re trying to point him out by body parts?” Ghost pops up, posing for the fans before Hardcastle can order him out of the ring. With Sacred down, Cortez rolls him onto his stomach, looking out to the crowd to let them know what he’s going for…and he starts to apply The HOOK-UP~! “This could do it!” Cortez plants his knees on Sacred’s shoulders, but as he reaches back for the leg, he’s grabbed by Sean Davis, who has recovered. Hardcastle tells Davis to leave, but Sean pays no mind, pulls Cortez up off his partner, then PLANTS him on the canvas with a brutal powerbomb that takes the wind right out of his sails! “That was uncalled for!” Davis leaves the ring, the damage done, and he waits with baited breath for his partner to make the cover and end this contest. Sacred crawls over, seeing Cortez down, and puts an arm over him… ONE! TWO! THR-NO! …but the young superstar kicks out before the three, shattering Sean’s dream! Sacred looks up at Davis, who says “finish him” in his best Mortal Kombat impersonation. The Sacred One stands up, scooping Cortez up off the mat, and lifting him for his own powerbomb, although his variation includes him running across the ring while holding Cortez! “He’s going for his “My Fallen Angel!” Sacred looks to complete the move, but before he can drive Cortez down to the mat, the Urban Legend snaps him over with a rana out of desperation! Angered and stunned, Sacred pulls himself up via the ropes, charging in at Cortez…AND CATCHES A SUPERKICK TO THE CHIN~! COVER~! ONE! TWO! THR-KICKOUT! “So close!” Cortez stands up, sweat dripping from his forehead as he leads Sacred to his feet…and grabs his throat! URBAN ASSAULT…NO! Sacred elbows out of it, then swings around him…double chickenwing, looking for NARCOSYNTHESIS, the move made famous by his brother Christian~! Cortez squirms, not allowing Sacred to force him to the canvas, and breaks free, swinging around behind Sacred…and shoves him into Sean Davis, sending Sean to the floor AGAIN, then taking Sacred to the mat with a sweep kick! Once again Cortez rolls Sacred onto his stomach and tries for The Hook-Up, but Sacred manages to swing his legs up and back into a sitting position, and he snapmares Cortez over! Todd comes up to his feet, but Sacred beats him to the punch, and grabs him in a facelock, then throws his leg over his head…CRUEL FATE…NO! Cortez throws him upwards, flipping him over and back to his feet…AND QUICKLY HITS URBAN ASSAULT ON SACRED~! ONE! TWO! NOOOOOOOO! DAVIS BREAKS UP THE PIN! “Come on Hardcastle, do your job!” This time, Ghost can’t take it anymore, and runs in, clocking the Perfect Storm with a right hand! Ghost continues with the punches, backing Davis up to the ropes…until he dumps Ghost over his shoulder and out to the floor! Davis turns around and eyes Cortez, his eyes gleaming as he has the Urban Legend in his sights. Davis charges with a SPEAR~!, but Cortez sees it coming at the last second and leaps up, hopping over him…AND DAVIS TAKES OUT SACRED~! “NO!” Davis gets up, more hurt by the fact he didn’t hit Cortez than the fact that he took his own partner out…and he then eats a low blow, as Cortez nails him with a hard kick, then runs up the ropes, backflipping off the top turnbuckle and landing with a reverse DDT on Sean Davis~! The crowd is electrified as Cortez rolls The Perfect Storm out of the ring, and sees that Sacred is in no position to fight him off. Cortez comes and rolls him onto his stomach for a third time, once again looking to finish his foe off…but Sacred crawls for the ropes, able to reach them and pull himself up with their assistance! Cortez pulls him away, and uses a short arm clothesline, but Sacred ducks it, and then pulls back on Todd’s arms, again looking for his own submission, the Narcosynthesis! Cortez tries to fight it, but Sacred is able to force him down to one knee…although Ghost slides back into the ring, tucking his head between Sacred’s legs and pulling him up onto his shoulders! “What is he doing? He can’t do this!” Ghost gets him up, and Sacred hollers for him to put him down. The Manchester crowd is on their feet as Hardcastle commences the five count that is standard for double teams, but no one cares, as Ghost has Sacred up, and once Cortez is on his feet, Sacred is shoved forward, coming towards the mat facefirst very quickly… …AND HE’S CAUGHT BY CORTEZ IN A ¾ FACELOCK ON THE WAY DOWN~! THAT SPECIAL PLACE CONNECTS ON SACRED~! “THERE IT IS~! THERE IS YOUR PROOF COMET~!” The crowd is ecstatic as the traditional finisher of Hollywood Boulevard connects! Cortez rolls Sacred onto his back, hooking the leg as Ghost stands guard and makes sure no one is around to stop the pin this time. ONE! TWO! THREE!!! DING! DING! DING! “Breathe” is cued immediately, as Cortez gets up and hugs his partner before both have their hands raised by Hardcastle. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winners…TODDD CORRRRTEZZZZZ AND GHOOOOOOOOOST~!” “What a miscarriage of justice, Comet!” The fans roar, and a recovered Davis peers into the ring as he stands up, seeing Sacred down and Cortez and Ghost celebrating. Angered, Davis pounds the mat and drops back to one knee, eyeing the celebration with envy and anger. Hardcastle retrieves the USJL belt for Cortez, and the champion hops up on the turnbuckle, along with his partner, and both raise their hands in triumph for the crowd. “Haha, you know what I’m wondering Robert?” ”What?” “Who was that masked man, kemo sabe?” “…you’ve been waiting all night for that, haven’t you?” “Well…yeah.” “You’re so lame. I hope Mike Van Siclen is proud of himself.” “Well, wherever he is, I’m sure he is. I’m also sure he’s proud of Todd Cortez, because tonight, Sean Davis has failed the Revolution!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 SINGLES MATCH Manson v. Nathaniel Kibagami ... to be edited in by T Nizzle Tizzle, or whoever he forwards it to. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 The picture fades from the video package into a wide shot of the arena looking at the stage. The crowd isn't cheering, but all of them are standing, quiet in anticipation of what is to come. The view changes to the announce table, showing the two voices of the SWF, Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley, sitting with grave looks on their faces. Comet: Ladies and Gentlemen, it is truly my honor to be broadcasting to you tonight, as we will bear witness to one of the most anticipated matches in the history of this Federation. Tonight we will see the end of an era, the end of a career and the end of the most bitter and storied rivalry this organization has ever seen. Riley: Comet, this is beyond a rivalry, this is a blood feud. These two men, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and the Suicide King, have moved beyond mere dislike. This is hatred, pure and simple. Comet: Indeed Riley, and this hatred has built and brewed for the last three years, building upon itself until it could only be contained by one structure and by only one match... The camera tilts up and away from the dynamic duo of announcing to view the massive structure hanging above the ring. Comet: Hell in the Cell! Riley: Cue the "Ominous Cage-Lowering Music"! The lights around the cell start to flash in a steadily building rhythm. A low bass thrum echoes through the arena in time with the lights as the imposing structure is slowly winched down to the arena floor. As it settles to the ground, several ring techs scramble to make the final adjustments on the cell while a referee and two cameramen make their way into the evil edifice. Riley: Comet, I can't imagine what the two of them have planned, what horrendous injury they plan to inflict on each other as finally, they let out all of the frustration, all of the anger... everything they have... Comet: I have no doubt that this will be a touchstone match in the history of the SWF, Robert. The camera focuses on the entrance stage just as the lights go dark... The crowd noise begins to build, as the anticipation becomes too much to bear. Then suddenly... ::CRACK!!:: The crowd begins to cheer and clap, knowing that the Heavy Hitter has finally arrived! As the bass and drums thump the lights around the stage flash in multiple colors. That's the way it begins - you try to behave, yeah, you try to fit in. Uh-Huh But when you rise and stand you find a lock-step march - no room for jazz. Then the loud guitar riff hits and the lead singer of the Gone Jackals sings out "Born Bad!" Red and white pyro explodes from either side of the curtain area and a bright white light bathes the audience in its glare. When their vision clears and the sparks have died away, they are rewarded with their hero, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens standing front and center! I've been down. Yeah, I've spent some time downtown. I've covered sacred ground, soft and slow and round. I gave up. Yeah, I learned to give it up, thinkin' that's the final cut. But it turns out I was wrong The ever-dashing Funyon, dressed to the nines as always, stands next to the cell at the timekeeper's station and raises a microphone to his lips. Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, this is HELL IN THE CELL! The only way to win is by pinning your opponent or making him submit in the ring. (Long Pause from Funyon as Grand Slam takes his first steps down the ramp) Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and ninety-four pounds and hailing from Lincoln, Nebraska... he is a two-time World Heavyweight Champion, two-time Intercontinental-Television Champion, three-time Tag Team Champion and a member of the SWF Hall of Fame... He is the Heavy Hitter... "GRAND SLAM" MARK STEVENS!!! The crowd just explodes in cheers as Grand Slam works his way down the ramp slapping hands with his fans all the way. Several times, he just pauses and stares into the crowd. It is obvious to everyone that he doing everything he can to savor his last long walk down the aisle. I grew hard. Over time my scars toughed up. When gettin' even just wasn't enough, I had to choke my conscience off. I've come far. Yeah, I had to travel far. Peel through layers sick and raw just to taste and touch once more. Just before he steps through the door and into the cell, he sees a boy, no more than eight or nine years old at ringside. He is holding a carefully made sign that says "Thank You Grand Slam. We'll Miss You." Grand Slam walks over to him and tousles his hair, then slowly takes off his classic Midnight Carnival baseball cap and places it on the kid's head. Stevens then leans over and says something to him. For everyone at home that can read lips, it's "No... Thank you." He turns away and raises his hand to the fans. He takes off his suede varsity jacket, hands it off to a tech guy, heads back through the cell door, rolls under the ropes and steps into the ring one last time. Grand Slam crosses over to a far corner of the ring and climbs to the second rope. The crowd's cheers, already incredibly loud climbs another several dozen decibels. He pumps his fist several times in the air as the crowd takes pictures, filling the ring with a strobe effect. Mark climbs down from the ropes. A smile on his face, Grand Slam walks calmly to the opposite corner and climbs to the second rope. Again, the crowd lights up the ring with flashes. Grand Slam fires them up a little then drops back to the mat. "Born Bad" fades out and still the crowd cheers, now rising to their feet. In the ring, Grand Slam is visibly moved; looking around the arena like it is his first time in a ring. He reaches up and wipes a tear out of the corner of his eye. Comet: What a tribute to Grand Slam by the crowd! Riley: Yeah... super tribute... really... wake me when the match actually starts... As Grand Slam stands in the ring, the lights again fade out to nothingness. The crowd changes from massive cheers to incredible boos, knowing who is about to come through the curtain "ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAH!!" As Ozzy Osbourne screams, the stage suddenly explodes and a wall of crimson pyro shoots skyward, deafening and blinding those closest. When the pyro finishes the wailing guitar chords of Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" pick up in volume and the Suicide King is revealed, posing cockily as the crowd pours their derision on him (save for sparse cheers from a few desperate women). Mental wounds not healing Life’s a bitter shame I’m going off the rails on a crazy train Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-six pounds and hailing from Dayton, Ohio... he is a former World Heavyweight Champion and a first-ballot SWF Hall-of-Famer... he is the King of Hearts... the Heartbreaker... the one-and-only original Gambling Man... the SUICIDE KING!!! With the crowd booing his every step, he makes his way down to the ring, smirking in disdain and strutting like he is the single greatest thing since sliced bread. As he walks down the ramp, the Gambling Man looks to one side and sees a sign hanging over the railing that reads "King + Workrate + Juicing = Buyrates!" King stops and looks at the sign, then mimes reaching into his pocket and digs around a second as he says "Wait, I've got a pen... I'll sign it... hold on... wait..." Finally he pulls his hand up right in the sign guy's face, middle finger strident, and yells "Oh, there it is!!" The crowd just pours their hate upon the former King of Hearts who appears to eat it up like a turkey dinner. I’ve listened to preachers I’ve listened to fools I’ve watched all the dropouts Who make their own rules One person conditioned to rule and control The media sells it and you have the role Making his way through the cell door and ringside, he jumps up to stand on the ring apron and moves provocatively between the ropes. Again the desperate women in the crowd let loose with a lustful cheer. King acknowledges them with a sneer, as if anyone in this entire country would ever be good enough for him. Once inside the ring the Suicide King circles the ropes, making sure that everyone in attendance gets a good, long look at the most talented, entertaining, and handsome man in wrestling today. The men swear, the women squeal, and the SWF collects another fortune in merchandising... Mental wounds not healing Who and what’s to blame I’m going off the rails on a crazy train Staring across the ring at his bitter rival, the Suicide King casually brushes the hair out of his eyes and glares at his unworthy opponent. His music fades and the referee calls both men to the center of the ring. Riley: There he is boys and girls, the one man in the entire world you should all learn to be like... Comet: Robert! I can't believe you! Riley: How can you argue with the man's success though, you masked goofball? He is one of the greatest we've ever seen in this entire stinkin' business! Besides that, he's very, very rich... Comet: And handsome? Riley: I wasn't going to say that... think it, yes. Say it? No. King neatly hangs his vest over the corner ringpost and steps lightly to the middle of the ring. The referee and one very dour Mr. Stevens wait for him there... as the two combatants begin the long and customary staredown, our main referee ("Iron" Nick Soapdish) for this evening's festivities raises the ring mic to his lips. Soapdish: OK gentlemen...we went over this backstage, but I want to make sure you are both perfectly clear on the details of this. This match is Hell in a Cell. You can only win this match by pinfall or submission, and only inside the ring. There are no disqualifications and no countouts. Allowed inside the cell are you two, myself, and those two very unlucky cameramen earning hazard pay tonight. Outside of the cell are two referees charged with making sure the door stays closed barring the end of the match by decision or injury. The door will open for no reason other than those. Do you understand? Stevens nods his quick and unsurprising assent. King actually appears to take a moment to ponder what he has gotten himself into... before nodding curtly. Soapdish appears satisfied as he steps back several paces, leaving the two men alone in the middle of the ring. Riley: Isn't Soapdish going to check Stevens for concealed foreign objects? That hack might have a boxcutter hidden in his knee brace! Comet: First of all, there are no dqs Robert. Barring Stevens bringing a handgun into the ring, he can use whatever he wants. Second, you're concerned about Mark having a foreign object when King is in the ring? King is undoubtedly jingling when he walks, there's so much metal on him. Riley: Please. Anything on him was undoubtedly planted by his many female fans back in his dressing room. They're as concerned for his safety as I am! The Heavy Hitter and the Gambling Man stand in the ring, eye to... well, scalp. The impression in King's gaze however would lead on to believe that he was two feet taller than the bigger, stronger Stevens. The camera homes in on their faces, each impassive in its own way. Stevens seems cast in stone, but there is a touch of regret in his face that it has come to this. The Suicide King's face on the other hand shows barely perceivable twinges of anxiety and excitement. As the seconds begin to stretch with neither man willing to break the other's stare, the crowd's volume slowly begins to grow... and grow, and GROW. Shaken out of their reverie, each man's face turns to regard the "fourth man" in the match. First one way, then the other, and then back to the only thing that matters... their foe. Years of friendship, heartbreak, and torment have finally come to this one crystal moment, and it is ringing its clarion call for all to hear. DING DING DING!!! Both men certainly hear the bell ring, as everyone in the arena sees their arms twitch, but neither one wants to make the first move. Now that it has come to this, neither one of these bitter enemies wants to be the one to set this certain torment in motion. Finally, as the crowd noise reaches jet-engine levels, King takes a step forward and says something to the Heavy Hitter. His tirade builds as he lays into his former mentor, punctuating his remarks with a pointed finger to the chest. Comet: Can you imagine what is being said in that ring right now Robert? Can you just imagine what words these two have for each other after all of that history together? Riley: I can only say that I am sure King is making some very valid points. His hatred of Stevens is certainly justified. Comet: Justified? Justified? Riley: Absolutely mask-boy! What did Stevens ever do to advance King's career? What shots did the old man give King? Comet: He taught him Robert, he mentored him! Riley: Mentored, schmentored... when it came down to it and the chips were on the table, Grand Scam decided his belt was too important for King to have a chance at! In the ring, King continues to verbally abuse the Grand Slam who is just standing there and taking it. Seeing the lack of effect his words are having on Stevens, he stops yelling and screaming and stands for a second, quiet. Finally, he leans in very close to Mark and whispers something to him. The effect is immediate and pronounced. Grand Slam puts both hands on King's chest and pushes him away about half a step, then lashes out with a hard slap to King's face. King's head snaps to the side, and when he turns back, there is that smile, the smile known to wrestling fans around the world as the most evil sneer in the business. Grand Slam is obviously enraged. Riley: Genius! Pure genius! King is baiting Grand Slam into wrestling angry! Brilliant! Comet: That tactic could easily backfire on him in this kind of match Robert. Riley: If King can keep him angry, he will eventually get sloppy, and that is where King can bring his superior speed and technique to bear. We should be back at the hotel in time for a late supper and a couple hours of pay-per-view porn before bed! As Comet shakes his head, Riley's analysis seems to be dead on, as King continues talking, getting Grand Slam angrier and angrier until he can no longer contain himself! With hardly a warning, the Heavy Hitter steps forward into a punch and belts King right on the jaw sending the smaller man staggering backwards! Grand Slam follows him towards the ropes, continuing to throw right and left hands at King's head and chest, some of which are connecting with terrifying power! King staggers back into a corner. Grand Slam follows him in and starts delivering body blow after body blow like a prize fighter. King is turning away from the blows as much as possible, keeping the damage at the bare minimum. Comet: It's backfiring! Grand Slam is going to knock him out in the first three minutes! Riley: You know what they about counting chickens Comet... King waits for Grand Slam to take a breath, a momentary pause in the sequence of punches, then stomps down hard on Grand Slam's foot! Stevens lets out a yell and backs out of the corner, but King is on him like white on rice! He steps forward, timing it just right and nails Grand Slam in the center of the chest with a hard shotei! Riley: Heartbreaker! he's setting him up! The Gambling Man turns his back to Grand Slam and pulls the bigger man into a headlock, and without a moment's pause he sprints across the ring, taking Stevens with him! Just short of the edge of the ring it's clear that Stevens intends to use the elasticity of the ropes to shoot King right out of his iron grip on the side headlock... but King just takes Mark's additional momentum and adds it to his own, leaping over the top rope and snapping Mark's neck off of it with authority! King lands gracefully outside as Mark stands bolt upright, both hands clutching his throat as he bounces back to the ground! Comet: What a move by the ever-resourceful Suicide King! And it seems as if Citizen Riley is correct about King's strategy... Lure Grand Slam in and beat him with technique, and targeting the neck to boot! Riley: One of these days you'll learn to trust my finely-honed ring instincts Comet. Comet: Well, if you know everything , what is the genius doing now? With a hearty chuckle King climbs back on to the ring apron and hops over the ropes, coming to a halt over Mark Stevens. The Heavy Hitter has recovered to a mostly doubled over position on his knees, his hands still cradling his injured throat. Never one to miss a chance to rub salt in the proverbial wound, King grins and throws a playful slap at the head of his one-time mentor.. Another little love tap follows, and another before King tires of this game and raises Mark to his feet. A quick knee to the gut insures that Mark will remain doubled over, and the flexible Suicide King raises his right leg high into the air... Riley: Ax kick coming! But Stevens steps in, rising to his full height and wrapping King around the waist in his massive mitts, trapping his leg to boot! King has a moment to look panicked on his one leg before the bigger man raises him up and PLOWS him into the ground with a simple but big-time spinebuster! Comet: Spinebuster by Stevens, and the King may have found the flaw in his plan! An angry Grand Slam may lack technique, but he makes up for it in power! King is in for a beating if he follows this line of reasoning. Riley: Pshaw. Look at Stevens! That much exertion on his tender throat has already exhausted his oxygen supply! He's back to rolling around on the mat like an epileptic fish while King is already recovering. Stevens won't be able to keep up with King's pace because King won't give him any time to rest. Inside the cell, King gingerly rolls out under the bottom rope while Grand Slam lays on the mat, trying to catch his breath. The Heartbreaker walks painedly over to the cell door and motions to one of the refs standing by. The zebra takes a step forward as a cameraman runs up next to King. With the small mic on the very expensive camera, we are able to pick up King and the ref's conversation... King: Okay Joel... let me out. Joel: I'm sorry sir... I can't do that. King: (chuckles a bit) Alright... ok... joke's over Joel. Open the door. Joel: No sir. I'm sorry, that's against the rules. King stands at a loss for words for the first time in a long while, then begins to look angry. King: Joel... I am part owner of this company. I make the rules, and this one has been changed. Open the damn door. Joel takes a step back from the cell. Joel: No. King is livid now, screaming at the top of his lungs. King: Open the door Joel! I own you! I pay your salary! You're mine! Joel: No. King looks incredibly frustrated and kicks at the cell door, which gives just a tiny bit. The lightbulb above his head almost visible, King turns to the steel ring steps right next to him and pulls the top section off. In one clean motion he swings it around and throws it with all his strength at the cell door... which holds fast!! Riley: The door... it didn't break Comet! Could that mean... Comet: Yes Robert... it means that the tech crew and engineers finally built a halfway decent cell! They'll be getting bonuses this month for sure. And that, my fine friend, means that King is trapped in that cell with a man he has already had quite enough of. If King has had enough after some body blows and a spinebuster, I daresay that before the night is over he'll wish he went into accounting like his mother told him! King stares at the immovable cell door in disbelief before yelling again.... King: Joel... Joel... I'm sorry I threatened you. How about I pay you to open the door? How much do you want? I've got a nice crisp one hundred dollar bill with your name on it! Joel simply shakes his head no... But this time, as King goes to up the offer (probably by the inclusion of a nice new quarter) his voice changes to a scream of pain as the now fully recovered Grand Slam reaches over the top rope and hauls King up to the ring apron with two huge handfuls of blond hair! Comet: Won't give him any time to rest, eh, Robert? The Heartbreaker isn't exactly living up to his moniker as he yelps like a frightened little girl. Grand Slam bodily drags him through the ropes before just CHUCKING him across the ring. King lands hard and rolls to his feet, but Stevens is on him just as fast, peppering him with right after right! The Gambling Man's head rocks back and forth like it was on a spring. Grand Slam maintains the barrage, backing King into the ropes and shooting him across the ring. Bounce back, and King eats a clothesline that sends him sprawling to the mat. King snaps up to a sitting position, one hand clutching his spine. Stevens isn't willing to let go of this momentary advantage though.... the bigger man runs across the ring and bounces off the ropes, using the added speed to throw himself feet first into King's back with a baseball slide! Comet: Ow! Stevens may be angry, but he hasn't lost his ability to pick a body part and home in on it. It looks like King's back may be taking the brunt of the abuse tonight! King has flopped over on to his back to prevent it's further abuse, but Mark does seem to notice as he rains elbow drop after elbow drop down on King's ribs. Each time the Heavy Hitter springs up before Soapdish slides into position to count... Riley: Oh no... Mark wants this to LAST. Snarling, Stevens raises the momentarily woozy King to his feet and once again tries to Irish whip him across the ring... reversal by King sends Mark sailing instead! Bounce back, and Stevens charges back at his former pupil with a full head of steam, which King casually leapfrogs over. King immediately takes a few steps back and drops to his stomach in anticipation of the next phase of the sequence. Grand Slam bounces off the ropes one more time, and with the instinct that years of ring experience have given him immediately drops a running elbow on the small of King's back rather than continue a sequence that give the more agile man the advantage! Comet: Right back to the spine, and Stevens shows that sometimes instinct is better than technique! The King of Hearts spasms momentarily from the impact and tries to push himself back to his feet. Grand Slam rolls back to his feet next to him and delivers a couple of stiff kicks into the gut of the Gambling Man. King curls up into a fetal position and tries to protect both his back and his stomach from the continuing assault of the bigger man. Grand Slam bends over and pulls King off the mat and to his feet, then whips him hard across the ring and into the ropes. Bounce back, Grand Slam looks for the big boot, but the wily King of Hearts slides under the extended leg and pops back to his feet. King bounces off the ropes and, before the big man can turn to react, King throws his feet at the back of Grand Slam's left knee, dropping the Heavy Hitter to one knee with a hard dropkick. Riley: And still, King's speed advantage still keeping him on track! Comet: I have to agree with you there Robert, it seems like King has had an answer for almost everything Grand Slam has thrown at him. King sends a hard kick into Grand Slam's side as he circles around him and pulls the big man into a tight front facelock, pulling him up to ready him for a fast and dirty DDT. The Gambling Man smirks and kicks his legs out from under him.... and doesn't go anywhere? Riley: Crap! Grand Slam rears up, lifting the Suicide King bodily and hurtling across the ring with one destination in mind! Comet: Special delivery for the corner turnbuckles! Will you sign for it, King? And the Heavy Hitter nearly shoves his shoulder through King's abdomen as he plasters the smaller man all over the turnbuckles! The ring shakes from the force of the impact as King ponders if there is a single service prosthetic available for people whose fronts and backs have been destroyed. Roaring like an animal, Grand Slam continues the assault, lowering his shoulder again and again into King and slamming his wounded spine into the turnbuckles! The Gambling Man loosely maintains the front facelock that got him into this mess, but it's clear that it is not helping anyone, least of all him. Stevens maintains a viselike grip around King, and takes two steps backward before spinning in place so that his own back is toward the corner... Riley: What the hell can this hack have in mind? Stevens takes a moment to settle in. Widening his stance he does a trial run, popping his hips in such a fashion as to clearly indicate his plan, and the crowd responds accordingly! Comet: Listen to our British fans roar. Robert! They know what's coming and so do I! Stevens is looking for a Northern Lights right into the corner! Riley: No!!! King's back won't survive a shot like that! It's inhuman! Comet: You reap what you sow, Robert! King lolls lazily in Grand Slam's arms like a well-used rag doll as Mark prepares himself. With a loud grunt, Stevens throws King over himself bodily, BUT KING SOMEHOW SPRINGS BACK TO LIFE, BRINGING HIS LEGS UP AND OVER AND LANDING HIS FEET ON THE TOP TURNBUCKLES! The two men struggle for a moment, each having a hold of the other and neither willing to let go as the crowd's volume rises further! Comet: Precarious situation for both men as opportunities for pain abound! Riley: Stevens is an idiot! If he were playing a technical game he could just take a step forward and plant King with the mother of all neckbreakers! But he's like a wounded boar, to stupid to try anything other than the attack he planned! King knows his situation is dire, and tensing all the muscles in his legs and back (which prompts a loud scream from the man) King jumps off of the top turnbuckle, following the path his grip on Mark's neck dictates! Going vertical King's momentum slows, slows... and pauses at the top of the arc! Mark looks aghast for a moment as he tries to claw through the red rage clouding his normally technical mind... but it's too late as King kicks his legs and completes the flip, slamming Mark's face into the mat with a tremendous turnbuckle assisted backflip DDT! Stevens' face crunches, both hands reaching up to his aching head as King rolls to the side, getting to one knee as the fans rain their hatred down upon him... Riley: Look at that! Sheer genius! As long as Mark wants to play the power game, King can use his speed and technique to counter every time. Stevens is going to have to dig deep and find some of that famed "ring tactics" he's so famous for or he is in for a hell of a night! Comet: Sadly I must agree, Robert! Mark is no match for King's speed, and mindless power won't get him anywhere. King destroyed the H-Ville Thugg, the paragon of mindless strength. The only chance Mark has is to use his superior experience and expertise, otherwise... well, he may as well just lay down now. Riley: I don't know about that, but the fact remains that King has landed the first big move in the match! Now the fun can begin. Grand Slam remains sprawled on the mat as King rolls back to his feet. At this point, neither man is still one hundred percent, but King seems to have more left in the tank than the bigger Stevens. The Gambling Man takes a deep breath and holds it a second, seemingly planning his next sequence of moves out as to maximize the pain for his erstwhile rival. Finally, he reaches down and grabs a handful of red hair and guides Grand Slam to his feet, pulling him into a front facelock and falling back, this time nailing him with the previously attempted quick and dirty DDT. Grand Slam hits hard and rolls onto his side. King, with a confident smirk, rolls the bigger man onto his back and drops across him, hooking his leg in the process. Soapdish drops to the mat... Riley: First pinfall of the match! 1... 2... Kickout by Grand Slam! Comet: Strong kickout by the big man! There is still a lot of fuel in that tank Robert! King looks nonplussed as he pulls Grand Slam back to his feet, but the big man gets the drop on him with a fast rising chop to the chest. King staggers back a step and Grand Slam winds up again... Wooo!! Another chop staggers King. Grand Slam feels the momentum starting to shift now and steps forward, pulling back his arm for another swipe, but King wants to put an end to this rally, and knows just the way to do it... ::Poink!!:: Riley: Eyepoke! Will the brilliance ever end? This is exactly why I didn't understand Grand Slam asking for this match. There's no way he can compete with King when there are no rules! The only two times he has ever won a match against the Gambling Man were in standard match rules! Comet: I think there may be more to it than that Robert, but I have to agree that the lack of rules certainly favors the diabolical Suicide King! Grand Slam jolts back from King, both hands covering his abused eyes. King advances, intent on not letting this opportunity slip by him, and pulls Grand Slam over backwards into a reverse facelock, then drops him hard on the back of his head and neck with a crisp inverted DDT. Not letting up, King pops back to his feet, runs to the ropes and bounces off, getting up a head of steam before just glancing the side of Grand Slam's head with a toe kick! Immediately, Stevens rolls onto his side, both hands wrapped around his head as he tries to clear the cobwebs that are clouding his thought process. King struts around the ring a little, drawing the ire and hatred of the crowd as he turns, runs, and drops a hard elbow right into Grand Slam's breadbasket! Riley: He's keeping the pressure up by making Grand Slam work hard to catch his breath! Comet: If this pace keeps up, then I have to agree that things do not look good for Citizen Stevens! King keeps his mind on the task at hand and pulls Grand Slam to his feet, then reaches between his legs and grabs Mark's left arm, pulling it back and into a pumphandle position! As the crowd rains more heat onto the cell, King pulls the arm up hard, groining Stevens hard enough to pull his feet off the mat a full two inches! Again! Once more for good measure and Grand Slam looks almost green with pain. Keeping the pumphandle on, King takes a deep breath and pulls Grand Slam off his feet and turns him enough to drop the small of Mark's back across his knee, nailing him with a hard pumphandle backbreaker! Grand Slam flops to the mat like a dead fish! King rolls him over and makes the pin! 1... 2... NO! Grand Slam raises his left shoulder just enough to break the count! Comet: Very close pinfall there, and so far this match it has been all Suicide King! Riley: Are you surprised? King rolls to his feet and pulls the big man up after him, then delivers a hard kick right into Grand Slam's midsection, doubling him over, then delivers a sharp elbow to the back of the Heavy Hitter's neck, dropping him back across his knee and onto the mat. King stands, savoring the moment as Grand Slam lies on the mat, both hands on his abused neck, gasping for breath. Again, the Heartbreaker pulls the big man to his feet and bends him over backwards once again into an inverted facelock. He looks around at the crowd, enjoying the anguished look on their faces as he picks apart their hero. Then he genuflects, driving the back of Mark Stevens' neck right onto the crown of his knee! The crowd reacts with a pained "Ooooh", but King isn't done yet. He maintains the hold and pulls back, hooking Grand Slam into a nasty Dragon Sleeper! Riley: What a sequence Comet! King has this one in the bag! After all that abuse to the neck, after all of the oxygen depravation, there is absolutely no way Grand Slam can recover from this! Comet: We've seen this sequence before from the Suicide King, and there is no arguing with its effectiveness, but I have to think that Grand Slam has not come this far just to give up now! As Grand Slam struggles to power out of the Sleeper, King continues to tighten the hold, choking the life out of him. The crowd doesn't want to see it end like this and starts cheering, stomping, clapping, anything that might help them will their Heavy Hitting Hero back into this match! Nick Soapdish walks over and lifts Grand Slam's right arm and lets it drop... Riley: That's one! The crowd is getting louder and louder now, the clapping is become rhythmic and somewhere, someone starts a small "Grand Slam! Grand Slam!" chant. In the ring, Soapdish again lifts the Heavy Hitter's arm and lets it drop... Riley: That's two! One more and King wins this match... barely breaking a sweat in the process!! King tightens the hold a little more, using his left arm to pull his right tight across Grand Slam's windpipe! The crowd is nearly rabid now... nearly every single one of them is on their feet, joining in with the "Grand Slam!" chant. King looks around at them, cold hatred and pure evil in his eyes, knowing that in just a few seconds, he will be able to show them who the better man really is. Soapdish raises Grand Slam's arm one more time and lets it drop... Riley: That's three... it's over!! Comet: Wait!! Look!! In the ring, Soapdish is signalling a no to the timekeeper as Grand Slam's hand hovers a mere inch above the mat! The crowd starts to go nuts, speeding up their chants and getting louder and louder! As if feeding off their energy, Grand Slam raises his arm slowly as King keeps the hold on tight, desperately trying to maintain control of the match even as he feels the momentum shifting away from him. Comet: He's fighting out of it Robert! He's not done yet! Riley: But he is a long way from doing anything about it! Grand Slam is in a bad, bad way right now! Grand Slam takes a moment to gather his strength, then surges up, bridging up and forcing King to stand while keeping the hold locked in. Once in that position, Grand Slam gathers himself for the next exertion. Comet: Now we'll see the real power of Grand Slam on display! Riley: But look at King brace himself! He's ready for anything Grand Slam could throw at him! He knows how powerful the Heavy Hitter is and he's prepared for it! In the ring, King is holding himself ready, keeping his feet wide apart and planted, bracing himself for the inevitable powerslam or snap mare attempt. Grand Slam reaches up with both arms, wraps them around King's head and neck, but instead of flipping him over, he kicks his feet out from under him and pulls King down hard onto his shoulder!! Riley: What the -- !? Comet: Perfect Pain!! Grand Slam escapes the Dragon Sleeper with the textbook diamond cutter! All those months with Perfect Bo earlier in his career have come back to pay off , and now King's strategy may have backfired! He's forced Grand Slam into a corner and made him dig down into his nearly bottomless bag of tricks! This does not bode well for the Suicide King! King snaps upright on to his knees from the impact... before toppling over to the side, momentarily stunned. Grand Slam is surging, but even so the bigger man has still taken a large does of punishment and is slow to rise. Comet: Suicide King was a victim of his own success! He baited the Heavy Hitter into a power strategy and took advantage of him mercilessly. But he took it too far, and beat the fight entirely out of him! What's left inside Mark now isn't white-hot anger, oh no! Now it will be cold, it will be smart, and it will be THOROUGH. Riley: Run, King! Mark Stevens stands upright under his own power, for the first time in a long time tonight, and he gazes down on the senseless King. Acknowledging the screaming crowd with a terse nod, Mark drops to his knees and grabs King around the neck cinching in a tight front facelock and dropping to his belly to put as much weight as possible on King's neck! Comet: Let's see how you like a little neck work, King! King is roused close enough to consciousness to muster some half-hearted thrashing, but that isn't going to get him out of this one.. Mark tightens his grip, before flipping over on the mat and rolling King like a cigar, finally coming back to their original position. Riley: King's neck shouldn't have to take that abuse! Comet: But Mark's should? Riley: Well, duh. King's thrashing grow in intensity as Mark's squeezes his vertebrae nice and tight, and rolls him once more! And then again! The crowd is cheering loudly as one of the all-time greats takes that freaking weasel to school! One more roll, and Mark floats over into a cover while keeping a tight grip on the neck! 1... 2... No! King does a full body spasm that manages to raise a shoulder enough to break the count, but Mark takes it all in stride. Loosing the facelock he maneuvers behind his foe and raises King to a sitting position. Planting one knee in King's ill-used back, he grabs each of King's arms and stretches to them far to the side, locking in a simple but effective bow-and-arrow. Once the hold is locked in securely, the Heavy Hitter starts to crank back on it. Unsurprisingly, this raises some cries of protest from King. Comet: Simple, effective, one move leads to the next. This is how Mark Stevens became a legend, and if he plays his cards right that will be how he walks out of here tonight victorious! Riley: Whatever. Nobody plays cards any righter that King. Comet: Righter? Riley: It's a word. Stow it, you wanker! Comet: I see that you've had an opportunity to see the local colour, Robert. Lovely. Soapdish is hovering, just waiting for the sign that King is ready to end his chiropractic session, but King is as of yet unwilling. King clearly has his wits about him though, getting his legs under him in short order and beginning the long process of attempting to spin out of this hold. King tries one way, then the next... and unsurprisingly chooses the route that takes advantage of Grand Slam's perennially bad knee. The Gambling Man tenses his muscles and STRAINS... And spins right around to where he started as Stevens turns with him, and uses his momentum to take him right back to the painful beginning. Stevens actually cracks a grin as King audibly swears, pulling back quickly on both arms to remind King that he's still there. Comet: Stevens is controlling the pace, and he doesn't like to share! King yelps in pain before preparing himself for one more go round. He tenses, strains... fakes left! Fakes right! Finally, King puts all of his body into a quick rightward rotation that has the desired effect... but again Stevens rotates, this time not with him but against him! Reaching under the discombobulated Suicide King's arms he takes him up and over... Comet: Backslide! 1... 2... King straightens his legs fast and pops out of the pin! Riley: There's no way a Hell in the Cell match ends in a backslide... we'd have a riot on our hands! Grand Slam gets to his feet first, intent on continuing to press the advantage, but King pulls himself up slowly, an aching back preventing him from moving quickly... Riley: He's playing possum! King moves fast and Grand Slam finds himself wrapped up in a small package! 1… 2… Grand Slam shifts his weight, changing the hold and pinning the King's shoulders down! 1… 2… King rolls through as the ref's hand comes down, releasing the hold…. Grand Slam maintains his front facelock, raising the King up again for who knows what, but this time his legs are swept out form under him by the speedy arms of the King! The Gambling Man flips through, hooking both legs on the way down! 1… 2… No! Grand Slam is far too cagey for that! With a single flex of his powerful leg muscles the Heavy Hitter sends King's shoulders to the mat, covering his arms in a sit-out position! 1… 2… No! A quick leg scissors by the King to Steven's face distracts him just long enough for King to force his weight downward, reversing the hold and pinning the Heavy Hitter's shoulders down! 1… 2… Stevens barely kicks out, but that doesn't stop the King… maintaining a firm hold on Mark's legs, the more agile King again rolls through, attempting another pin, this time the entire weight of his body resting on Mark's legs!! The Heavy Hitter encircles his arms around the King's waist as the ref counts… 1… 2… NO! The Heavy Hitter kicks his legs free, and his shoulders lift off the canvas as he bridges up, taking the King up with him via the waistlock! The King is entirely at Steven's mercy as the arch grows larger… and larger… until finally both men are on their feet, albeit with spines bent like bowstrings! The King spins through to escape, only to find himself spinning with Mark in the same direction... Riley: FUCK.... Carried around twice… the Heavy Hitter uses King's own momentum against him as he spins him through, grabbing a hold under the King's arms and backsliding him down to the mat!! 1… 2… No! The King spasms his entire body to get free, just winning loose of Stevens' hold! Both men are finally free of any grapple of the other as they roll wearily to their feet, accompanied by the roar of the crowd!! Riley: What the hell are they cheering for? Comet: Pure unfettered wrestling is what! These fans came out for a match to remember, and so far the skills and knowledge of these two men is delivering! What a pinning display shown by these two! King looks around at the fans and is obviously upset and losing his composure. With a yell, he charges right at Grand Slam, intent on driving his shoulder right through Stevens' stomach, through his spine and right on to the concession stand! But the wily ring veteran sees the charge coming a mile away and at the last second, drops to the mat and pulls down the top rope, letting King fly right over the ropes and out of the ring! King tries to protect himself, falls hard on his back and rolls into the cell. Grand Slam rolls under the bottom rope and lands on his feet. The crowd can see into the immediate future and begins to cheer anticipating what is to come! Riley: Ohh... all of a sudden, I don't think I like the way this match is going. Comet: Ladies and Gentlemen, if there are any small children watching, I suggest you send them out of the room, as I expect this match is about to go very poorly for one of these two men. King pulls himself up using the chain link of the cell as Grand Slam advances on him. Just as Stevens reaches out to grab King, the Gambling Man throws out a hard chop that catches Grand Slam across the chest (Wooo!) Grand Slam backs off a step and King presses his advantage, chopping Stevens across the chest again! (Wooo!) Trying to get back into the game King rushes Grand Slam, but the Heavy Hitter again moves out of the way, catches King's feet between his and drop toe holds him right into the ring apron!! King's head snaps back hard and he crumples to the ground holding his chin. Comet: What a move by the Heavy Hitter! Riley: That ought to be illegal! Comet: Pot calling Kettle, come in Kettle... As King tries to recover his senses, Grand Slam gets to his feet and picks up the discarded top half of the ring steps and turns back to King... Riley: Look out! Duck! Run!! Do Something!!! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 AND THROWS THEM!! They connect with King hard, knocking him back against the ring apron just as he was trying to stand! He falls back underneath the steps, slowly kicking his legs. Riley: What the hell was that? Comet: Robert, if you thought the ring apron ought to be illegal, I can imagine what you think about those steps! Grand Slam picks up the steps and tosses them aside as easy as if they were toys. With one hand he reaches down and pulls King up by the hair. His right hand pulls back and drives into King's forehead causing the small cut there just starting to bleed to widen a bit and start to send a small trickle of blood down King's face! Comet: He's busted wide open Robert! King is bleeding profusely from the head! Riley: This is terrible! Grand Slam pulls a woozy King off the ground and pulls his towards the cell wall. As the crowd cheers, Stevens drives King's forehead into the cell, then drags it back and forth a few times! King lets out a yell of pain and grabs the chain link, trying to keep his body steady, but the strength just isn't there. As soon as Grand Slam lets go of his head, the Heartbreaker sloughs down the wall to the mat. Comet: Here is where the true brutality of this match comes into play. The cell isn't just there to contain the carnage, the cell itself is an instrument of torture... a way to destroy your opponent's body so completely that he can't fight back. Riley: And right now, I think King may need to just call it quits. He's in a bad way Comet... Grand Slam looks around and seizes upon a plan. Once again he pulls King to his feet, then picks him up as if to send him back down with a spinebuster, but instead he charges at the corner ringpost and SMASHES the Gambling Man's back against the solid steel post! King lets out a weak yelp as Grand Slam pulls him back, but the Big Man turns and drives the Heartbreaker's spine into the corner post of the cell itself! The crowd lets out a huge cheer! Again, the Heavy Hitter turns and re-introduces King's spinal cord to the ringpost, then one more time turns and just drives him into the corner of the cell with such force the fans shy back a step. Comet: Grand Slam is quite literally beating the Suicide King from pillar to post, and the crowd is loving it! Riley: This crowd is sick! Who would want to see someone as great as the Suicide King beaten savagely like this? The bloodied King falls weakly to the ground as Stevens releases him. Stalking around outside the ring for a moment the larger man's eyes fall upon the ring steps again. Kicking it out of the way he returns to the Suicide King, grabbing one arm and wrenching him to his feet. Stevens takes a step, two, and then twists his hips to send King across the ring and into the cell wall with an Irish whip! King sandbags, his legs too weak to support him... wrenching again, Grand Slam FORCES King upright and again twists his torso. This time King goes along for the ride against his will, but somehow he maintains a deathgrip on Stevens' arm and reverses the whip, sending Stevens hurtling toward the cell wall himself! Riley: Karma! Grand Slam gets both his hands up and out, bracing himself on the cage wall and almost completely negating the impact! Comet: Is the proverbial female dog, I assume? But King staggers forward before Stevens can turn around, reaching up and around his neck and dropping down hard with a neckbreaker on the outside! Suddenly all of Stevens' adrenaline is gone as he cradles his injured neck once more... not that the Suicide King is any better after willingly dropping his abused spine on the unprotected arena floor. Riley: See? I told you. I TOLD you, and you didn't listen. Comet: Yes, yes, we're all very proud Robert. The Heavy Hitter may be momentarily out of it, but is King in any position to take advantage? Grand Slam may be hurt, but he is not out by any means. Clutching his neck with one hand he rises to one knee and sees the Suicide King rolling around like a Mississippi catfish freshly clubbed. Grabbing the blood-slicked King by the scruff of the neck he raises the blaggart to his feet... King reaches back behind him like a blind man for his foe's arm.. With the speed of desperation King spins and falls forward, taking Mark over with a quick armdrag! Stevens lands a little stiff, rolling into the cell wall. Riley: Stevens is playing catch-up! Comet: Please. It will take more than basic grappling to take down Stevens... although his advantage is fading fast. The Gambling Man stand upright for the first time in a long time, the flow of blood on his face seemingly halted to a mere trickle. Mark moves forward, only a moment's hesitation stopping his determined stride toward King. King assumes as defensive a stance as he can considering, but he leaves himself wide open for a simple right hand upside the face! King takes an unwilling step back from the force of the blow as Mark proceeds with menace in his eyes. Another right hand rocks King back, and one more is fired forth... only to be ducked by King! King steps behind the bigger man and raises both hands high above his head before bringing them down HARD on the back of Stevens' neck! Mark staggers, wobbles, but doesn't fall down. Riley: That's all the opening he needs, baby! The Suicide King takes a simple step forward, sliding one arm under Mark's and taking him over with a hiptoss! A simple move becomes deadly as Mark sails into the cell wall back first and slides down it, slamming the back of his head and neck into the outside! For a moment Mark is perfectly balanced in a rather unflattering position... before he falls limply over to the side, leaving King alone and leaning on the ring apron for support. Comet: I stand corrected. Basic grappling will in fact be enough to take down Stevens, provided it's on a very hard surface. The Heartbreaker stands for a moment, catching his breath. His eyes dart around fervently, finally seizing on the one weapon that has served well thus far. Reaching down he weakly drags the ring steps over beside Mark. Placing them carefully beside the man's head, King takes a step or two back... and runs forward, launching a soccer kick into the side of the steps, slamming it into Stevens' head! Stevens' noggin snaps to the side, coming back into place just in time to catch one more Manchester-United kick from the Suicide King! Satisfied that the Heavy Hitter isn't going anywhere anytime soon, King reaches down to the steps once more. Raising them slightly, King drags them over Mark's torso so that the edge is just on Mark's throat. Comet:: Oh no... Raising one foot up and placing it gingerly on the poorly balanced steps, King reaches his hands up to the ring ropes and grabs a firm hold... Riley: Oh yes! And raises himself up bodily on to the ring steps! Mark begins to thrash in place, both hands grabbing the lip of the steps and trying to move them as King brings his full weight to bear! The ring steps seemed determined to function as the world's slowest guillotine... until King starts HOPPING UP AND DOWN, driving the stairs even harder into Stevens' injured throat! Comet: Sweet Merciful Megatroid! He's gonna kill him! The Heavy Hitter ain't hitting so heavy right now as his thrashing begins to fade... fade... and stop. King looks down and smirks. Removing one hand from the ropes, the Suicide King raises one hand in super-villainish triumph atop the monument to Grand Slam's folly! A mad gleams lights across his face as he hops down... and moves over to the ring apron? Comet: He's got Stevens dead to rights! What can the egomaniac possibly be doing? Lifting the apron up King peers under the ring. Reaching in he pulls out a tool box and tosses it into the ring! He looks down again and pulls out a pair of Kendo sticks before sliding them under the bottom rope. A fire extinguisher quickly joins it. King looks once more, and he has clearly found something he likes... Riley: He's setting the stage! The King is planning ahead! Comet: But he could win NOW, if he actually wanted to! Reaching down with both hands, King strains mightily and the object of his attention slides into view... A ladder. Comet: Listen to the crowd explode! They may not like the man, but they, we, and you at home know exactly what a ladder means! The Suicide King actually smiles for a moment as he turns his head to one side. The crowd immediately before him erupts into cheers! Turning his head he seeks the approval of the other half of Britain. Riley: Well, these people know what they want to see! King grins a wide grin, the top of his head threatening to fall off. He raises the top of the ladder up at an angle, pulls it out a good foot or two... and slides it back under the ring with one swift motion! Riley: Oh that is awesome! He totally punked out the crowd with the merest suggestion of a ladder spot! Comet: The man is like a petulant child. Anything to irritate our paying audience. Riley: Please. Hell in a Cell not brutal enough for you Neanderthals? As the boos and a few soft drink rain down, King returns to looking under the ring apron and finally finds the winning lottery ticket. Raising it up like Excalibur, King pulls out a simple black baseball bat... the Ace of Clubs has finally entered play. Taking his trophy King slides into the ring, carefully arranging all of his potential toys for maximum utility. Dropping into a low stance in the middle of the ring, the Gambling Man waits... Outside of the ring the steps shudder, shake, and finally slide off of the Heavy Hitter. Mark Stevens rolls weakly, his eyes blank of higher function as the oxygen his body has so frequently been denied tonight return to his brain. Seconds pass as Mark fights to an upright position with the aid of the ring apron. More long moments pass as Mark swings a leg up and tries to raise himself up onto the apron, finally succeeding. Standing up, eyes glassy, and blissfully unaware of the menace awaiting him Mark shakes his head. Riley: Here he comes! And King shoots across the ring, the opportunity too rich to pass by! King leaps into the air with a picture perfect dropkick! Mark sails off of the ring apron, shooting bodily into the cell wall! The elasticity of the cage doesn't help him this time as the impact bounces him back! Mark tries to get his hands up, but they are just a second too late as his rotational velocity conspires against him and takes him right into the ring steps he just left, only face first! Comet: Grand Slam is being picked apart by the Suicide King now that the match has entered a more... shall we say... morally ambiguous phase. Riley: Just like I said Comet. This match favors the Gambling Man in every aspect! Grand Slam is slow to recover. He puts his arms under him and tries to push up to stand, but his arms resemble nothing so much as Jell-O. In the ring, King looks at his plunder and selects the Ace of Clubs. Outside, Grand Slam finally manages to grab the bottom rope and pull himself up. He isn't bleeding but there is a nice size bruise beginning to form on the side of his face. Exerting all of his remaining strength, the Heavy Hitter pulls himself up to the ring apron and rolls in under the bottom rope. Comet: Look at the courage, at the intestinal fortitude of Mark Stevens, fighting his way back into the ring! Riley: Look at the stupidity... I mean, King's waiting on him with a friggin' baseball bat! Finally Grand Slam pulls himself into the ring and, as expected, the Suicide King is waiting on him. He winds up and delivers a brutal shot to the stomach of the Heavy Hitter, doubling the big man over. But, probably to his great misfortune, the Heavy Hitter does not fall. As he tilts forward, his left arm catches on the top rope and leaves him mostly doubled over but still standing. King looks at the situation for just a moment, almost surprised that he is this lucky. He takes two steps back and bolts forward, using his momentum coupled with a mighty upswing of the Ace of Clubs right to the head of Grand Slam! The force of the blow knocks Stevens backwards and to the mat where he rolls into his side, both hands holding his mangled face. Riley: My God! What a beautiful shot to the skull! Grand Slam isn't going to be able to remember his kid's names after that one! Comet: Robert! King smiles and, tucking the bat under his arm, grabs Grand Slam's arm and drags him a foot or two into the ring. The crowd lets out an audible gasp as one of the cameramen gets a good look at the Heavy Hitter's face. There is a deep gash on Grand Slam's head, already dripping a steady stream of blood onto the mat. King sees this, his smile widens and, even though his wound has by now stopped bleeding entirely, his still-bloody countenance like something out of Lucifer's own portrait gallery. Taking the bat and laying it across Grand Slam's throat, King drops down and leans against the bat, cutting off yet more of Stevens' precious oxygen supply. Soapdish drops to the mat... 1... Riley: What a brilliant tactic... he's keeping Grand Slam from getting any respite, even during a pinfall! 2... 3NO! At the very last second, Grand Slam kicks out. King looks peeved but not particularly surprised as he sits back, giving himself room to bring a punch to bear on Grand Slam's wound, causing it to bleed just a little faster. Grand Slam doesn't hesitate. As soon as King pulls back his hand for yet another punch to the head, Grand Slam rolls to his left and drops out of the ring. Comet: That is a veteran grappler Robert! No matter how dire the situation he always knows exactly where he is and uses that to his advantage! As Grand Slam does his best to recover outside the ring, King tosses the well-used Ace of Clubs aside and pulls open the tool box, extracting a length of heavy chain. The crowd boos him mightily as he walks slowly to the side of the ring Grand Slam is on, measuring out a loop just long enough to reach the now standing, albeit wobbily, Heavy Hitter. King lowers the loop down and before Grand Slam realizes what he is doing, hooks it under his chin and pulls back! Grand Slam's feet come off the ground for a second as he clutches at the chain around his neck! Riley: Yes! Just what I wanted to see... an old-school lynching! Comet: This barbarism is simply unbelievable... but we knew that it would come to this before the match ever started. No one wins a match like this, they just survive... King keeps leaning back, pulling the chain tight against Grand Slam's windpipe. But the toll this match is taking makes itself apparent as King can't keep Grand Slam's feet off the floor. As soon as he feels terra firma again, Grand Slam reaches up and grabs the chain with both hands, gives it a sharp tug to get King off balance, then runs hard to the corner of the cell, pulling King behind him like a child being pulled by a pit bull... right into the turnbuckle!! King impacts the corner hard chest first, letting go of the chain and slumping there, arms over the top rope! Grand Slam pulls the chain off his neck and throws it down to the floor. Then with a fresh burst of adrenaline, rolls into the ring, gets behind King and hooks a rear waistlock... then throws him backwards with a beautiful release German Suplex!! King hits the mat hard on his shoulders, but Grand Slam lands hard on his upper back and immediately grabs his neck. Comet: Awesome suplex by Grand Slam there, but not the best idea I think. Riley: I have to agree Comet. After all of the work King has put in to working Stevens' neck, the last thing the Heavy Hitter should be busting out is a move like that! The crowd starts stomping their feet and cheering, trying to get Grand Slam up and on the offensive first. Both men are slow to their feet, but the crowd's energy seems to numb Grand Slam of his aches and pains long enough for him to drive a hard kick into the gut of the Gambling Man and lock in a front facelock. With a stomp, Grand Slam sends him up and over with a crisp snap suplex! The ring shakes with the impact! Slowly, Grand Slam pushes his way to his feet. He sees King just starting to rise. With a look out to the crowd, Grand Slam puts one finger into the air and spins it around! The crowd just goes berserk!! Comet: He's signaling for the Walk-Off! This could be it!! Riley: No! After all of this, I refuse to believe that the Suicide King will allow himself to go down now! King rises to one knee and Grand Slam is waiting! He pulls King into a standing head scissors... hooks the arms... jumps up... WHAM!! Comet: WALK-OFF!! WALK-OFF!! This match is over!! Riley: No!! Noooooo! Grand Slam slumps to the mat beside King, but just out of reach... the last of the adrenaline used up. Slowly... slowly he crawls the foot and a half until he can push King onto his back and drape an arm across the villain's chest... Soapdish drops to the mat... 1... 2... 3... NO!!! Kickout by King!! Riley: He kicked out! He kicked out! Thank the Lord! Comet: Grand Slam used up his last reserves of strength setting up and hitting his finisher! He didn't have enough left to make the cover fast enough to get the pinfall! This match continues!! Both men lie on the mat for what seems like minutes. Then finally, both warriors start to push their way to their feet. King's face is tinted red from the blood he lost, but the sweat has washed most of the precious fluid off. Grand Slam is another story, however. His face is covered in blood, the proverbial crimson mask. They close on each other and King makes the first move. He sends a wild punch through the air at Grand Slam's head that connects, though without much force behind it. That seems to stir something in the Heavy Hitter who retaliates with a huge haymaker that barely catches King on the chin! Another punch from King snaps Grand Slam's head to the side, but the Heavy Hitter seems to clear up almost instantly and aims a sharp right hand jab at the face of the Gambling Man! That blow causes the punch King was preparing to die stillborn. Grand Slam steps in and drags the smaller man into a front facelock, throws the Heartbreaker's arm over his neck and lifts, looking for a good ol' fashioned vertical suplex, but King is as much a technical master and ring veteran as the Heavy Hitter. He floats over, lands on his feet, spins around, hooks Stevens' left arm in a half-nelson, pulls the right across his chest, takes one step to the side, rotating Grand Slam around just so... the crowd gasps... then sweeps the leg, driving the Heavy Hitter's head right onto the discarded Ace of Clubs!! Riley: JOKER'S WILD!! JOKER'S WILD ON THE ACE OF CLUBS!! Comet: That has to be it Robert! My God! King rolls Grand Slam over and pushes the bat away a few feet where it comes to rest under one of the turnbuckles, half out of the ring. The King of Hearts hooks the leg... Soapdish drops to the mat... 1.... The crowd is screaming for Grand Slam to kick out... to keep the match alive... 2... Riley: He got him! Let the party... 3NO!! Kickout!! Comet: Grand Slam kicked out!! He kicked out!! Sweet Mother of Merciful Jupiter, he kicked out!!! The crowd goes insane as King pleads incoherently with Soapdish for a three count, begging, screaming that surely it has to be over! The last of his energy expended on the move and the closing arguments, King folds over gently to the mat, one fist slamming the ground in frustration. Crawling on hands and knees over to the corner, King searches through his stockpile of weapons, since it is clear that the Ace isn't doing the job at this moment. Kendo stick, kendo stick, fire extinguisher... yes. That should do nicely. Riley: Well, it lacks poetry but it just may put Stevens out! Raising the red metal cylinder above his head, King walks on his knees over to Stevens and slams the extinguisher into the Heavy Hitter's back once, twice, three times! Each strike prompts a new spasm, and the third is the signal for King to again roll Stevens over and hook the leg. 1... 2... No! The flesh is weak, but the spirit is willing! Mark shoots one shoulder skyward again he full body spasms. The convulsion catches the dropped extinguisher, sending it rolling out of the ring as King desperately grabs for it... and falls centimeters short. Cursing fate, King returns to his stockpile and grabs the last readily accessible weapon... a kendo stick. Still it takes King several long moments to regain his footing. Comet: Look! Even after all this Stevens is trying to stand! Indeed Grand Slam is fighting his way upwards with the aid of his only ally, the ring ropes. King focuses on him with bleary eyes and begins the long march toward him. Raising it high above his head, King brings it crashing down! Gravity and fatigue combine to form a most effective dodge however as Stevens drops back to the mat. King swings again, but this time Stevens rolls right out of the ring, landing awkwardly but certainly more favorably than the alternative. Riley: He's got him on the run now! Swearing to himself, King makes sure that Stevens is in fact moving away before dropping down (as gently as possible) and rolls out after him. Stevens shambles along, clumsily making the corner around the ring post as the kendo stick crashes into it! Bent at a jaunty 45 degree angle now, the kendo stick has seen better days. The Suicide King is relentless in his pursuit, swinging once more and connecting with nothing! His frustration mounting, King picks up the pace... and fortune finally smiles on him as the bleeding Stevens missteps and crashes to his knees. Knowing what's coming, his hands scramble around frantically trying to find anything, offensive or defensive, that may aid him in what is to come. Riley: Prepare to be knighted the old-fashioned way, Slammer! Grinning, King raises the stick high above his head.... and is nailed in the stomach with a chain wrapped fist from the Heavy Hitter!!! The kendo stick falls weakly from his hands as the Gambling Man falls to his knees, both hands clutching his abdomen. The bloody spectre of Grand Slam rises before him, one chain wrapped fist prominently displayed. Comet: Ring awareness! King forgot about the chain and it cost him! Stevens didn't, and now things are getting interesting for fans of justice! Stevens stands there, the blood pouring down his face as King raises one hand in front of him, waving frantically... Comet: Is he begging? Riley: NO! Kings don't beg! He's negotiating a more favorable settlement! The Suicide King kneels there, knowing all to well that the kendo stick is just out of his reach, and the only weapon to be had is in the hands of his greatest foe. Hands gesticulating frantically, King cajoles, pleads, BEGS the Heavy Hitter not to do it, not to sink to his level! Comet: Surely after all this brutality, even Stevens sense of fair play has reached its limit! Stevens looks around, acknowledging the swelling crowd support for a moment... before tossing the chain aside and well out of the reach of both men! Riley: And that right there is why evil will always triumph! Stevens smiles down at his erstwhile pupil... and grabs the kendo stick from its resting place! King's face comes to life once more to renew the wheedling that saved him from the chain as the crowd again grow sin volume, only to crest as Stevens brings the stick down across King's head like thunder from on high! KE-RACK! And again, KE-RACK! Comet: I dub thee Sir Head Trauma! KE-RACK once more, and King's head lolls to one side. His body has apparently not received the memo from upstairs however as it wavers, sways, but does not fall over. Stevens tosses the stick away and deadlifts the Gambling Man up into his massive arms, before tossing him under the bottom rope! King rolls to a stop like a sack of garbage thrown by a particularly lazy sanitation worker. Stevens follows shortly after, and everyone in the first several rows can instantly see his attention his diverted away from the invertebrate King and to the corner turnbuckles... Comet: I know that look on Stevens face, Robert! He's pondering a trip upwards! Riley: The man is an idiot! King is still conscious, if a bit... well, addled. Even so, the Heavy Hitter moves to the corner and places on foot on the bottom turnbuckle. His other moves one above it, and as he prepares to scale to the top something catches his foot! Riley: See? Even without higher brain function King is a superior tactician to Stevens! Indeed, in direct defiance of all neurological evidence King has crawled over to the corner and reached up with both hands to grab Stevens' boot! Stevens shakes his leg, pumps it up and down... but the Heartbreaker has a lamprey-like grasp on his foot even if he is unable to exploit it. Grand Slam does everything he can think of to get rid of King, but like the bloodsucking leech that he is, he is locked on tight. Finally, King draws back his arm drives it up between Grand Slam's legs with certainly not the best nutshot of his career, but enough to keep Grand Slam passive while King climbs up behind him and starts laying in forearms and punches to the back of the head. Grand Slam tries to throw an elbow back to put an end to all of this nonsense, but King keeps his head down, so Grand Slam decides to take the fight to King and turn himself, ever so slowly, so that he is sitting on the top turnbuckle. But King is ready for him. Thinking fast, the King of Broken Hearts steps to the top rope, balances precariously for a second, then reaches up with both hands and grabs the cell's roof! Riley: Look at the resourcefulness of the Suicide King! He's using the cell to steady himself so he can deliver stronger blows to Grand Scam! King swings both feet out and back, slamming them into Grand Slam's upper body! Stevens manages to grab one leg, but King has the other ready to go and pummels the Heavy Hitter until his grip loosens. One hard kick right to the temple sends Grand Slam off into la-la land. Seeing his arch-nemesis in such a state, King uses his feet to get his whole body swinging back and forth, then drives both feet into Grand Slam's chest!! Riley: I believe a man can fly Comet!! And indeed Grand Slam arcs out away from the corner ringpost, turning over in mid-air and slamming into the cell wall face first and upside-down, landing hard on his perpetually abused head and neck! The crowd boos King mercilessly as he lands back on the top rope and perches there like some sort of demented gargoyle. Riley: These men have become desperate Comet! Comet: You have to be in a match like this! Neither one will stop until the other is absolutely defeated! As Grand Slam slowly pulls himself up on the cell, King measures the distance and leaps... crashing into Grand Slam with a cross body right into the cell wall! Both men hit the ground hard and lie there, barely resembling the grapplers who started this match! Comet: Robert, I don't care what you think about either man in this match, this has certainly been an impressive display of sheer wrestling, knowledge, guts and tremendous fortitude. Riley: Comet, occasionally you pop out a moment of pure truth, and this has to be one of those cases. This is to the point where I am wondering when the referee calls the match? Does he let one of them permenantly injure themselves or their opponent, or does he become proactive and stop this before something truly terrible happens? Comet: Either way Robert, neither of these men is ever going to be the same after tonight. King is first to his feet, but one hand stays on his back, trying to massage out some of the pain. He pulls a handful of red hair, guiding Grand Slam to his feet. He turns the big man face first into the cell, then fishhooks him, pulling his mouth open and back, trying to twist off Mark Stevens' face! Then he leans forward, using all of his weight to push the still bleeding wound on Grand Slam's head against the unforgiving chain link of the cell wall, scraping him back and forth, trying to peel off all of the skin on the Heavy Hitter's forehead! Comet: This is barbaric Robert! Riley: These two knew what they were getting into when they signed the match Comet. Finally, King lets Stevens go, and the big man slumps to the mat. King doesn't let him rest at all before dragging him back to his feet and sending a hard chop into his chest to keep him pacified! (Wooo!) Another chop! (Wooo!) One to grow on!! (Wooo!) Then King grabs Grand Slam's arm and whips him the length of the ring, but Grand Slam stomps his foot and reverses, sending King hurtling down the empty space between the ring and the cell... well, empty except for the undisturbed set of ring steps that King collides with, flipping him over and dropping him on his back right next to the cell wall! The top half of the steps is knocked out of position, sitting askew on top of the bottom half. Riley: The steel steps have been a huge factor in this match Comet! I think both men knew that they were going to be the most accessable and handy weapons and planned accordingly. Comet: I have to think you're right Citizen Riley. While King is the only man here with actual Hell in the Cell experience, neither man is exactly uncomfortable in a hardcore environment like this. Grand Slam, limping slightly and moving his head around, trying to work the kinks out of his pained neck, stalks his prey. Just as King is getting to his feet, the Heavy Hitter arrives and delivers a stong punch to the temple, keeping the Gambling Man passive for the moment. Grand Slam takes the top part of the steps and tosses it aside, then pulls the bottom part away from the ring. He then steps up on it and reaches down, again using King's flowing locks as a handle to guide the Heartbreaker's path. He pulls King up onto the step facing him. Then Grand Slam turns so that his own back is facing the cell just a few feet away. He then locks on a front waistlock, pops his hips and sends King ass over teakettle, back first into the cell wall with a huge belly-to-belly suplex!! Riley: He's trying to kill King! Comet: He's dispensing Justice Robert! Grand Slam is on a roll!! The downside to Stevens' plan was the hard fall from the steps for himself. He is slow getting up, giving a nearly-comatose King some time to recover. Finally Grand Slam kicks away the steel base of the steps and pulls himself to his feet using the ring apron. Beside him, King is struggling to regain his footing. The Heavy Hitter doesn't waste time with preliminaries, once he is on his feet he simply grabs King's arm and tries to Irish whip him perpendicular to his last flight path down the side of the ring. But King plants his feet and twists his body, sending Grand Slam down the path instead, but his trajectory is slightly off and instead of impacting the cell wall, he rams face first into the ringpost and hangs there, one arm almost casually thrown over the bottom rope. Comet: Imagine the pain both of these men are already in! Every step must be agony! Riley: I'm not sure what they're running on now Comet... They are past the point of exhaustion. Anyhting could finish this match now! A punch, a kick, a suplex... anything! King staggers down towards Grand Slam, who slumps there with one arm resting on the ring apron for support, one again still hooked over the bottom rope. Just short of Grand Slam the Heartbreaker stops and drops to one knee. He pulls up the ring apron and pulls out a steel chair... winding up, he delivers a bone crunching blow to Mark Stevens' back that causes the Heavy Hitter to slump a little further against the pole. King slides the chair into the ring, then hops back and delivers a sharp superkick that drives Grand Slam's head into the steel ringpost!! The crowd hisses in sympathetic pain as the bigger man wobbles in place for a moment as his brain sends the relevant signals to his body... Comet: My God Riley! Grand Slam has got to be out of it! Riley: King was trying to split open his skull like an overripe melon! Grand Slam slides to one side and falls, clearly out of commission for a while. King takes a moment to catch a few deep breaths and shake some of the cobwebs out of his own brain. Then he slowly pulls Grand Slam up by the head and pushes him, bit by bit into the ring, finally rolling him in under the bottom rope, then slowly, painfully, the Gambling Man climbs in after him. Grand Slam rolls away from King, starting to realize that he has been in better situations than this. King winds up to stomp away on Grand Slam, but the Heavy Hitter rocks onto his back and swings the discarded chair wildly with one hand, connecting with King's left knee! The Heartbreaker grabs his knee and staggers back as Grand Slam rises slowly. The crowd, silenced by King's tooling of Grand Slam on the outside suddenly comes back to lfe, cheering as Stevens raises the chair above his head and swings, curving enough to hit it broadsides across King's back, dropping the arch-fiend to his knees! The Gambling Man arches his back and pulls his arms into his sides like every muscle in them has spasmed at once, which frankly isn't that far from the truth. Comet: What a shot! I don't think I've ever seen Grand Slam swing a chair with that force before! Riley: We've never seen Grand Slam pushed to this extreme before Comet! He's running only on instinct, anger and adrenaline, and that is a dangerous cocktail! Grand Slam's face is twisted in anger as he raises the chair above his head once more then brings it down with strength born of years of anger and betrayal, driving it down onto the Suicide King's head hard enough to actually pop the seat of the chair loose from the frame! King wobbles for a second, then falls forward, both arms flying up to land by his bruised cranium! Riley: Comet, this is beyond what humans should have to endure! The Suicide King has had his brains scrambled!! Comet: Sometimes things go so far that violence like this is the only answer. These two men have seen the best and worst of each other, and we know from that conversation Grand Slam had with Mistress Sarah a few weeks back that he carries the guilt around with him for everything King has done. This isn't about winning for the Heavy Hitter, this is about exorcising a demon from his very soul! Grand Slam raises the mutilated chair to the heavens like a trophy and the crowd just goes ballistic, sending their energy towards Grand Slam like a palpable wave and the veteran fan favorite, possibly the most popular man in the history of the SWF eats it up, pumping his fist in the air and stomping his feet. Meanwhile, the ref is checking on King and looks very worried. Finally, having gotten the adrenaline flowing again, Grand Slam walks over to King and grabs his hair, pulling the smaller man to his feet. Comet: Oh my God... The crowd gasps as they see the puddle of blood left on the mat. King's face is quickly covered in bright red, sticky blood. Comet: Good God... that chairshot has just opened the Suicide King up. He is bleeding profusely from another wound on his head! Riley: Good Lord, they're even competing to see who can bleed more... Comet: What was that? Riley: Nothing... nothing.... Grand Slam sees the crimson mask and is stunned for a second, but doesn’t hesitate long, pulling the wounded Gambling Man into a standing head-scissors, hooking the arms... jumps in the air... ::WHAM!!:: Comet: WALK-OFF!! WALK-OFF!! Riley: This has to be it Comet! King is a great wrestler but there is no way he can get out of this one!! Grand Slam seems to have all of the energy drain out of him as he rolls King over and falls across his chest... Soapdish drops to the mat! The crowd counts along!! One....... Two........ ThrNO!!!! The Suicide King manages to get his foot on the bottom rope just in time to break the count! The crowd is cheering everything now, just amazed that both man have pushed themselves this far. Grand Slam props himself up and stares at the zebra, simply holding up three fingers as if to ask, "Are you sure?" Soapdish nods his head and Grand Slam rocks back on his knees, hanging his head, wondering what in the hell he has to do to finally put King away once and for all. Comet: What is King running on? It isn't pride, it isn't principle! What is keeping this villain conscious, much less alive? And did Soapdish just make a costly mistake by counting a rope break in a no DQ match? I may have to dig out my SWF rulebook, but I am not sure that flies. Riley: The ref is is the only authority in that ring, Comet, and you can't question his call until this is all over! Still, I can’t believe it Comet! All those years of training are keeping King in this match despite what his body is telling him! Comet: I'm not sure that is for the best right now though... King is losing blood once again, but this time at an absolutely sickening rate! Grand Slam pushes his old, tired legs one more time to raise him up and grabs two handfuls of matted hair and hauls the Heartbreaker after him. With slow deliberate movements, Grand Slam turns King around and pulls him into a Full Nelson! The crowd's now constant cheers rise in volume as the recognize the set-up... Stevens lifts King off his feet and slams him down hard, jarring his tailbone up into his already aching back! Riley: Not this... not now... Comet: That's one! Can he turn two? Grand Slam hauls himself back to a vertical base, maintaining the hold and dragging King back up with him, but suddenly, King comes to a mock semblance of life, pulling one arm free and spinning around the other, locking Grand Slam into a half-nelson! He pulls the other arm across his chest... Riley: He's going for the Jokers Wild!! But as King tries to hook the near leg to sweep it out from under the Heavy Hitter, Grand Slam pulls it free and sends it back and up... Comet: Low blow! Mule kick between the legs from the Heavy Hitter! Riley: I don't believe it! It's been years since Grand Slam has even thought about using a low blow in a match! King's eyes nearly pop out of his head as he lets the hold loosen and falls back, both hands going down to clutch at... himself... while Grand Slam puts both hands on his knees and tries to catch a breath. Shaking his head, instead of going after King, he drops to the mat and rolls out under the bottom rope! Riley: Where is he going? Comet: I... I just don't know Robert... Grand Slam kneels down next to the ring, throws up the ring apron and starts digging around for something. In the ring, King rolls to the corner opposite Grand Slam, trying to create as much distance between him and his foe as possible while making the familiar "O" face of masculine pain. Finally, the crowd nearest Grand Slam lets out an almighty cheer which spreads as the rest of the fans in attendance see what plunder Grand Slam has found buried under the ring. Standing slowly, he raises his right hand high aloft; in it he is holding a baseball bat... a very special baseball bat... Riley: No... this is beyond the pale! After everything that has happened... Comet: That's the Spark Hardcore Special bat! He's about to go old school on the Suicide King! Indeed, the weapon being raised is a Louisville Slugger baseball bat. But this one is wrapped in some sort of cloth, then wrapped again in razor wire! In his left hand, Grand Slam has something else... something small... Riley: You have got to be kidding... He raises his left hand to the bat and flicks his thumb... a spark... then a flame! the crowd is going funky-monkey-banana-boat-in-your-living-room-for-high-tea-"Would you like a crumpet with that" insane! As Grand Slam pulls himself up to the ring apron and carefully steps between the ropes, King is in the opposite corner, pulling himself up slowly, being careful to keep his back to the approaching Heavy Hitter. Comet: What's happening? Riley: King's hiding something! The Gambling Man has yet another ace up his sleeve! As Grand Slam starts to stalk across the ring, King also comes out of the corner. The crowd continues cheering, rattling the rafters of the arena. Grand Slam winds up and swings... AND SO DOES THE SUICIDE KING!! Comet: Oh no!! Riley: King has the Ace of Clubs!! He's got an equalizer!! Both blows land hard, Grand Slam's flaming brand blasting with dizzying force into King's blood-and-sweat-soaked face and snapping his head hard to one side! King's wild swing with the black Ace of Clubs goes higher, connecting painfully with the side of Grand Slam's head right beside his eye! Grand Slam falls to the side immediately, coming to rest on his back, obviously dazed and confused! King remains standing for a moment, weaving uneasily... Riley: Oh my God!! Comet: Oh no!! Not like this!! Then he loses his fight with unconsciousness! King teeters and falls back first right on top of Grand Slam, then rolling to the side, their broken bodies perpendicular to each other! Soapdish drops to the mat as King's arm remains fallen lightly across Grand Slam's chest! The crowd once again counts along!! One..... Two..... Three!!!!!! Riley: He did it!! King did it!! ::DING DING DING:: Funyon: The winner of this match by pinfall... THE SUICIDE KING!!!! Ozzy Osboune once again explodes over the PA system as Crazy Train plays. Riley: It's finally over!! King has destroyed the legend of "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens! Comet: I don't think you can say that Robert. Both of these men have put everything they had into this match, neither of them has anything to be ashamed of. But one thing is true... this epic struggle has ended once and for all. In the ring, the ref is raising King's limp arm in victory, but the Gambling Man has no real idea what is happening. The two refs on the outside unlock the door and charge inside, one of them going to each wrestler, making sure that if they need EMS, one can be called neear instantaniously. A cameraman quickly grabs the fire extinguisher and puts the Hardcore Special out with all due haste. The crowd is standing to a man, all of them applauding the effort of the two men. Finally, as King remains motionless on the mat being attended by a ref, Soapdish and one other official help Grand Slam to his feet. The crowd begins to clap louder and louder, breaking out into a cheer rivaling anything heard before in the match. A "Grand Slam" chant starts up and spreads like wildfire across the Manchester Evening News Arena. Comet: These fans are on their feet giving a tremendous cheer to "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens who has just wrestled his last match! Riley: You know Comet, I've called him a lot of names over the last few years, and not all of them may have been deserved. But the fans always loved him, and if anyone deserves a moment to stand and listen to their cheers, it is him. Comet: I couldn't agree with you more Robert. There will never be another one like Mark Stevens... In the ring, the refs make sure Grand Slam can stand on his own, then move away. The Heavy Hitter turns in a full circle, looking at and listening to his standing ovation. Crazy Train fades and is replaced by "Born Bad", as the nearly dead Suicide King is helped under the bottom rope by an official. The blood on Mark's face is streaked with tears as the camera puts his visage up on the SmarkTron. Then he pounds his fist against his chest three times and raises it high in the air. The tears are streaming now, dripping off his nose and chin. Comet: I think everyone here wants to say the same thing... "Thank you Grand Slam..." Riley: But don’t go anywhere... There is still one more match tonight, and it is a doozy! Annie Eclectic challenges Toxxic for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship! History could be made... NEXT!! The match fades on a shot of Grand Slam painfully climbing to the second turnbuckle to point at the fans and tell them what he told the little boy what seems like days ago... "No... Thank you." ------------------------------------- As the television audience is transferred to a video package for the World Title match, the live audience is treated to something a little extra... Grand Slam climbs down from the turnbuckles and turns heading for the door, but his archrival, the man who just beat him in the most brutal match in his life, is blocking his way... covered in blood and gore... and smiling. The two men stand like that, toe-to-toe in the ring for a brief moment, and then embrace. The crowd goes insane. King pounds Grand Slam on the back and the front rows can hear him yelling, "We did it Slammer! We did it!" Grand Slam nods his head and grabs King by the back of his, holding his best and oldest friend close, saying goodbye to him and the business that he loves. Stevens whispers something to King and tears start to pour down the Gambling Man's face. He steps away from Mark Stevens and grabs his hand, then raises it high in the air. The crowd, still cheering and on their feet gets a little louder. The cameras catch many of them, including a wide-shouldered bearded man, crying and smiling at the same time. Grand Slam looks around one more time, savoring the moment, trying to burn the sound of the cheers into his memory, trying to make sure that years from now he'll be able to remember this night... The night that he had one of his greatest matches with his best friend... The night that he gave everything he had to the fans on more time... The night he and King tore the house down... The night he finally said goodbye. END... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 Faith No More’s ‘Ashes To Ashes’ is playing inside the Manchester Evening News Arena and the fans are still wound up from the last contest; however, the excitement palpably rises as a graphic flashes up on the Smarktron. First, a pretty Japanese woman appears dressed in a powder-blue suit and matching fedora with a kendo stick slung across her back. She pushes the brim up with one finger, then mimes ‘shooting’ the crowd and blows the imaginary smoke from her fingertip. ANN ‘ICHIBAN’ ONITA Another figure appears on the right, this time a slim, pale but well-toned man with black spiky hair, nail varnish and eyeliner with the SWF World Title slung over one shoulder. He glances to his right, then stares back at the crowd and flashes a lopsided grin. ‘THE STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION’ TOXXIC Behind both competitors, images of various weapons flash up. STREET FIGHT: SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE “Well Citizens, that pretty much says it all,” Cyclone Comet declares to the audience at home. “We are now at the main event of Ashes 2 Ashes, and what a main event it promises to be! The World Heavyweight Title will be competed for under Street Fight rules, a stipulation brought on by both Toxxic and Annie’s penchant for hitting each other with foreign objects over the last few weeks, and each competitor is also trying for a historic first! Citizen Onita is in the running to become the first ever female SWF World Champion, and Toxxic is attempting to break the run since Genesis IV of the World Champion never retaining his title on Pay-Per-View!” “Yes Comet, the World Title has been passed around quicker than a hooker in a prison block,” Riley affirms, “with the competition for it being just as fierce!” “...” “...or so I’ve heard,” the SWF’s colour commentator finishes, somewhat belatedly. Before Cyclone Comet can try and cover his broadcast partner’s tracks with some well-chosen words, the production crew rescue him by dropping the lights and cutting out the Ashes 2 Ashes theme tune that has been playing in the background. The Manchester Evening News Arena falls silent, or as silent as it can reasonably be when there are several thousand fans crammed inside it, all at fever pitch excitement. Suddenly, a spotlight appears near the entrance ramp and illuminates a man with long hair, wearing a dirty white T-shirt. ‘I GET WET WHEN A PARTY HAS STARTED!” ‘I GET WET, WITHOUT EVEN TRYING!” "I GET WET! I GET WET! I GET WET! I GET WET! I GET WET! I GET WET! I GET WET! I GET WET!" “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd erupts as the lights come back up and the rest of the band are revealed behind the distinctive figure of Andrew WK, appearing in person to serenade Ann Onita down to the ring! *BOOOOOM!!* White and blue pyro shoots up from the top of the entrance ramp as ‘I Get Wet’ kicks up in earnest and the talented multi-instrumentalist starts headbanging in the spotlight. The pyro blast splits in two, but instead of charging through at top speed as is her normal practice the suit-clad figure of the challenger steps through casually, then turns and salutes Andrew WK. He makes the metal horns in response before rejoining his band in their live rendition of the Hardcore Queen’s entrance theme, and Annie Onita turns and sprints down to the ring as the volume of the crowd hits as-yet unrecognised heights! Annie hits the ring and slides under the bottom rope before springing back up and scaling the nearest turnbuckle, jabbing her thumb at her own chest and shouting back at the crowd as she whips them into a frenzy of support. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be contested under Street Fight rules for the SWF WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPIONSHIP!” Funyon booms over the noise of the crowd. “There are no count-outs or disqualifications, but pinfalls and submissions will only count in the ring! Introducing first, the challenger; from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in tonight at 165lbs; ANN... ‘ICHIBAN’... ONNNNN-IIIII-TAAAAAAAA!!” Annie jumps back down from the turnbuckle and turns to exchange brief pleasantries with Funyon before doffing her fedora and unslinging her ever-present kendo stick, then shrugging her suit jacket off. She takes the time to say hello to referee Matthew Kivell as well, then settles down to wait for her opponent. “This match could be the culmination of a tremendous journey for Ann Onita,” Cyclone Comet declares, “a long and glorious career that has seen her come close to the top spot but never quite reach it. Who could forget her vaunted win over then-World Champion Va’aiga-” “-when she was a mystery opponent, and he had no time to prepare,” Riley interjects. “-or indeed her many memorable matches against Tom Flesher?” the masked superhero continues. “-which she lost,” Riley adds in the background. “Face it Comet, she’s no big shot; she’s in this match because Toxxic wants to embarrass her on a big stage!” “Rubbish!” Comet scoffs. “I have every confidence in Citizen Onita, and I assure you that she will be walking out of here tonight with the World Title around her waist.” Right on cue, the Smarktron whites out and the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire crashes out over the pa system... and for the first time in months, an unfamiliar sound is heard as the top seems to blow off the Manchester Evening News Arena in cheers and virtually everyone in the building rises to their feet! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” As the screen darkens to black jagged white letters flash up a familiar slogan as if in response to Comet’s words: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG...’ [“Comet, you walked into that one,” Riley hisses gleefully.] As the guitar riff starts the black screen changes and becomes the top of a spiky-haired head that raises and stares out with piercing grey eyes before a lopsided grin creases the right-hand side of Toxxic's face. The bass drum starts and clips of his matches flash up - the All-Show Brawl with the Insane Luchador, the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, dropping Nathaniel Kibagami on his head with the Caffeine Bomb and the Super Intoxxication that won him the World Title, all with the words ’STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION’ and ’REVOLUTION ZERO’ interspersed in half-second intervals - before moving onto footage of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the four blasts of red pyro that climb the entrance ramp before the final, stagewide eruption as the main riff starts- *BAM-BAM-BAM-bap-BOOOM!!* -that signifies the arrival of the SWF's premier straight-edger! For a moment only smoke billows under the Smarktron; then a vague outline is seen and out strides the form of the SWF’s World Champion with the World Title over one shoulder and his black holdall over the other, staring around at the cheering crowd! The Straight-Edge Sensation seems slightly bewildered by the massive support, but his face quickly slips into its trademark lopsided grin and he pauses at the top of the ramp to display the belt to the crowd, prompting a new wave of chants! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” The rookie’s grin widens in response and he starts off down the ramp. However, he is no longer wearing his customised England soccer shirt, but rather a throwback to his first months with the company; a black T-shirt with ‘HARDCORE PUNK’ written across the front in a silver barbed-wire font. “Toxxic is taking a chance with his clothing tonight!” Comet says. “I don’t think the Hardcore Queen will take well to that sort of statement coming from a man she views as a Johnny Rotten wannabe!” “Yeah, well, Toxxic held the Hardcore belt longer in one run than Annie managed in two put together,” Riley snorts, “I don’t think the Hardcore Bint has much of an argument.” “AND HER OPPONENT!” Funyon bellows, trying to make himself heard over the massive support for the champion, “from Nottingham, ENGLAND! He weighs in tonight at 218lbs; he is the leader of Revolution Zero and the reigning and defending SWF WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPION... the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’... TOXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Toxxic leaves his holdall outside, rolls into the ring and walks to the centre, coolly eyeing Annie as he does so. Just as the first verse of ‘Rookie’ is about to begin he throws his arms wide with the palms down, and each turnbuckle explodes with more red pyro! *bap-bap* *BOOOM!!* 'I never thought this could be me, I guess you never do until it's happening to you Like all the fun turns into shame And all the 'could-have-beens' rearrange...' ‘Rookie’ starts to fade out and Toxxic cracks his neck once from side-to-side, then hands the World Title over to Matthew Kivell and flashes a grin at Annie. For her part the Hardcore Queen has focused on Toxxic’s shirt, and something that appears to be disdain flashes across her face. In the background, it is possible to hear warring chants that have started up. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” “Well Citizens, the fans here in Manchester certainly seem to be split between these two SWF stars,” Comet acknowledges. “Personally I must still side with Miss Onita, as she doesn’t have the recent history of violence and skullduggery that Toxxic does, but all the same it is good to know that the fans will go home happy, whoever wins!” “Bah, who cares about them?” Riley snorts. “I’m just treasuring the once-in-a-lifetime event of the crowd having some sense!” Matthew Kivell hands the title belt over to the timekeeper, then signals for the bell: *DING-DING-DING!* Annie extends one hand and beckons the Straight-Edge Sensation closer. Toxxic obliges, still grinning... but then Ichiban brings her other hand out from behind her back, and it holds a kendo stick that had been cunningly concealed from the World Champion behind her body! *CRACK!* Toxxic staggers back as Annie pastes him across the head, but the Hardcore Queen presses forwards and raises her weapon to strike again- *CRACK!* -and again! *CRACK!* Toxxic is backed up on the ropes now and has his arms raised to cover his head, so Annie takes a step back, winds up and- *CRACK!* -delivers a brutal blow to the Straight-Edge Sensation’s midsection! Toxxic wasn’t expecting the sudden change of direction in attack, and as he folds in the middle Annie boots him in the head to propel him out of the ring between top and middle ropes and down to the arena floor! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “ICH-I-BAN!” “ICH-I-BAN!” A good half of the Manchester crowd are behind Annie’s actions as she pumps the air with her fist and waves her kendo stick, seemingly in an attempt to fire up the audience in her favour a bit more. Meanwhile Toxxic has ended up against the guard rail, and fans are already leaning over it to pat him on the back in encouragement. The World Champion rises back to his feet, holding his head with one hand and his ribs with the other, but he hardly has time to stand before Annie (sans Kendo stick) comes flying through the ropes in a suicide dive, driving him back against the steel guard rail again! *CRASH!* “ICH-I-BAN!” “ICH-I-BAN!” “Citizen Onita is certainly starting this match at a high tempo,” Comet says as Annie rises back to her feet and salutes the fans who are cheering her efforts, “perhaps in order to try and capture the support of the fans before they rally behind their fellow countryman!” “Like that will do any good,” Riley replies. “Toxxic was unstoppable in a country where people hated him; what do you think he’ll be like where people are cheering him?” Annie grabs Toxxic by the head and hauls him up, then seizes the straight-edger by the wrist and Irish whips him towards another guard rail. However, Toxxic manages to reverse the momentum and send Annie towards the steel instead... but the Hardcore Queen manages to stop short, then twists back towards her adversary. Unfazed, Toxxic aims a clothesline at the oncoming Annie’s head but Onita ducks it - however, as she turns back one more time to keep a bead on the World Champion Toxxic reaches the guard rail, vaults up to the top and then comes flying back with a diving clothesline to wipe Annie out with a modified Role Reversal! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Both competitors are lying on their back on the floor of the Manchester Evening News Arena; however, Toxxic curls his legs under his chin and then kips up explosively, inciting another cheer from the Northern crowd! With the crowd behind him Toxxic wastes no time in hauling Annie up off the ground as the Japanese wrestler struggles for breath, then rolls her into the ring and hurries around to the side facing the entrance ramp to find his black holdall. Annie is resilient enough to be struggling up to her feet in a few seconds, but by that time Toxic has already found what he wants and is up on the apron. Annie turns around, sees her opponent there and sets herself for evasive action should he attempt one of his signature springboard manoeuvres... but Toxxic pulls out a miniature SuperSoaker and raises it! *SSPLAAAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!* “Hah! That Wildhearts-ripping Andrew WK got one thing right, Annie gets wet!” Riley crows as the Hardcore Queen splutters and staggers back from the unexpected assault. With his opponent temporarily blinded Toxxic drops his weapon and leaps to the top rope, then springboards across the ring and nails the drenched lesbian with a missile dropkick! “A SuperSoaker...?” Comet asks weakly. “Hey, it got the job done,” Riley sniffs. Annie has managed to instinctively turn over onto her stomach in order to avoid a possible pinning predicament, unlikely as a loss would be at this stage of the contest. Undeterred, Toxxic drops down in front of her and clamps on a front facelock to close the Hardcore Queen down, then starts to try and raise her to her feet. The Straight-Edge Sensation succeeds in bringing her halfway up, but the moment she is on one knee Annie starts moving in an entirely different way. She grabs the arm Toxxic has around her head, then manages to twist out of the facelock and scoots behind the startled World Champion, bringing his arm up into a hammerlock. From there it is the work of a moment for Ichiban to segue that into a chickenwing - then she reaches forwards, wraps an arm around Toxxic’s throat and bridges back! *WHAM!* “Millenium suplex!” Comet shouts as Toxxic’s neck and shoulders are driven into the mat. “And what a display of counter-wrestling from Citizen Onita to do it! It just goes to show, Robert, that Toxxic’s technical skills haven’t been magically increased by the support of the fans - he still can’t wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag!” “Oh shush,” Riley snaps irritably, “this is a momentary setback.” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” The warring chants go back and forth inside the Manchester Evening News Arena as the fans shout and scream for their particular favourite to get up first. Team Ichiban seem to be on the right track though, as Annie seems to be using the time to recover from Toxxic’s earlier attacks whereas the Straight-Edge Sensation just seems unable to get up. After a few seconds Onita starts to push herself up, then wraps her fingers through the straight-edger’s hair and brings him painfully to his feet before scooping him up and slamming him bodily down on the canvas! “What a display of strength from Citizen Onita!” Comet applauds the Hardcore Queen. “Toxxic is a good 40lbs heavier than her, and when you’re talking cruiserweights that’s a big difference, but Ann just picked him up and slammed him with hardly any effort!” “I want her spot-tested for drugs!” Riley shouts. “Come on Robert. Her name isn’t Mutu, and you’re not Chelsea football club,” Comet protests. “No-one outside this country will get that, Comet,” the colour man replies leadenly. With Toxxic prone on his back Annie raises one arm over her head, then heads for the nearest turnbuckle and scrambles up it, facing out at the crowd. For a moment Ichiban soaks in the cheers of (most of the) crowd, then as the camera flashes start to go off in the Manchester Evening News Arena she backflips into the ring, sailing through the air and coming down atop the hapless straight-edger in a picture-perfect moonsault! *BANG!* The breath is driven from Toxxic by the impact, and Annie hooks the leg for the first cover of the match as Matthew Kivell dives in to make the count... ONE! TWO!! ...but Toxxic kicks out, and the Manchester crowd seem to decide to throw their support behind their fellow countryman! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Annie looks a little annoyed that popular opinion seems to have abandoned her, but she quickly snaps out of it and starts to haul Toxxic up again, unwilling to let the Straight-Edge Sensation have too much time to recover. She places him in a front facelock and throws his arm over her shoulder, then jacknifes her body backwards and takes him over with a snap suplex. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Annie holds on after impact and starts to rise back to her feet again, pulling the rookie with her. This time when she hoists him into the air the movement is slower and more deliberate, and she actually manages to keep Toxxic vertical for three seconds before gravity takes its toll and she is forced to fall backwards, slamming the straight-edger backfirst into the canvas following an impressive stalling suplex. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” In spite of the Manchester crowd still chanting her opponent’s name, Annie retains her grip once more and brings the rather shaky Toxxic up to his feet one more time. This time she simply torques her body sideways and drives the World Champion down to the mat with a vicious spinning neckbreaker, and as she gets back to her feet the allegiance of at least part of the crowd has changed. “ICH-I-BAN!” (“TOXXXXXXXX-IC...”) “ICH-I-BAN!” (“TOXXXXXXXX-IC...”) A smile lights up Ann Onita’s face as she hears the change in the chants, but she knows it’s going to take a lot more than the support of the people of Manchester to become the first ever female World Champion. With this in mind she rolls out of the ring and lifts up the ring apron, hunting under it for whatever she can find. “Well Robert, it certainly seems that Citizen Onita is following a reliable strategy of working on Toxxic’s midsection,” Comet comments as the Japanese superstar continues her search. “Not only will this make it more difficult for Toxxic to hit any lifting-based moves and limit his general mobility, but it will set up both the Hollowpoint Driver and the Triple-C.” “I think you’re confusing a series of moves that happen to target the same bodypart with a gameplan, Comet,” Riley scoffs. “I’d be very suspicious of any notion that Annie actually has a clue how to win this match.” It is at this point that the slim figure of Ann Onita re-emerges from under the ring, bearing aloft the silver shape of a trashcan filled with assorted weapons. “Well, I’d say that she’s going about it the right way,” Comet notes as the Hardcore Queen brandishes her discovery in the general direction of the fans, who respond positively. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Annie pushes her can of weapons back into the ring, then rolls under the bottom rope after it and empties it out as Toxxic is sitting up, holding his back and his neck from the abuse they’ve taken. With her options clearly displayed in front of her Annie quickly selects a large red roadsign that she takes in both hands, waits for her opponent to stand and closes in... *CLANG!* The shot floors the Straight-Edge Sensation, and Annie then holds the sign up to the crowd and points at the writing. A large portion are quick to catch on, and read it aloud to shout out: “STOP!” ...pause ...pause ...pause “CONTINUE!” Annie yells, causing a massive pop as she ditches the sign over the top rope! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Citizen Onita with a tribute to her former stablemate Mike Van Siclen there,” Comet laughs, “as Mike used to do that very same routine, albeit with the Red Light rather than a Stop sign!” “-and it sucked when he did it, too...” Riley grumbles to himself. Toxxic has rolled over onto his stomach and is shaking his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs, but Annie has no intention of giving him the time to do that. As the Straight-Edge Sensation reaches a kneeling position she simply takes hold of the trashcan, inverts it and shoves it down over his head, trapping his arms at his sides! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Before Toxxic can get away Annie places a hand on the top of the can, then lashes out with her right leg. The blow knocks Toxxic sideways, but Annie steadies him before knocking him back with a kick from her other leg, then backs off and picks up a two-by-four from the heap of weapons and simply charges straight at the rookie World Champion, delivering a massive blow that knocks Toxxic sprawling and the trashcan clear off his head! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Annie dumps her two-by-four and drops down atop Toxxic, hooking the leg as she tries to make history... and just like before, Matthew Kivell is there to do the counting... ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Toxxic kicks out, and also just like before the sight of their fellow countryman kicking out seems to shift the crowd’s support behind the straight-edger again! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Annie can sense that she’s getting closer, and so she brings the World Champion up without hesitation before grabbing his wrist and Irish-whipping him across the ring. The Straight-Edge Sensation thumps into the far turnbuckles and Annie starts to run, then cuts a couple of handsprings and flies through the air to drive her elbow into Toxxic’s sternum- *BANG!* -but the rookie has moved, and Annie collides backfirst with the turnbuckle pads! As she staggers out again Toxxic takes her head in both hands, places his skull under hers and then sits out in a jawbreaker that sends the Hardcore Queen reeling! The impact causes Toxxic to clutch his head as well, but the Straight-Edge Sensation is still able to slip out to the apron and then slingshot himself back in, grabbing Annie around the shoulders as he does so and bringing her down to the canvas with the Radford Roll! ONE! TWO!! ...but Annie kicks out from the World Champion’s first pin attempt of the match, and the chants start to war again inside the Manchester Evening News Arena! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” Annie forces her way out of the cradle and gets back to her feet, but Toxxic knows that he needs time to get his thoughts in order and isn’t going to give her a chance to go back on the offensive; before Annie is even fully upright the straight-edger lashes out with his forearm- *WHAM!* -delivering a stunning European uppercut that knocks Annie back a step. With this tactic looking to have succeeded, Toxxic fires off another one- *WHAM!* -then drives his forehead straight into Annie’s face with a vicious headbutt! *CRACK!* The result of this move isn’t necessarily what Toxxic intended, however; Annie certainly staggers back further but the Hardcore Queen’s skull appears to be harder than rookie anticipated and he wobbles on the spot himself for a moment as well. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” Annie seems to realise that she’s no longer being hit and focuses on the unsteady straight-edger in front of her. With a harsh warcry Ichiban leaps back into action, charging at Toxxic and vaulting off his knee to drive her own towards his face with a Shining Wizard - but Toxxic blocks it with his forearms and Annie falls back, off-balance! Before she can come up with another plan of attack Toxxic simply pivots on one foot and lashes the other out to connect with her jaw, dropping the Hardcore Queen with a superkick! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” Toxxic shakes his head once, apparently to clear it, then looks down at the form of Ann Onita on the canvas in front of him. She is already starting to move after the superkick, and it is quickly becoming the Straight-Edge Sensation that it is going to take quite a lot to put Annie away. With this in mind, the rookie rolls out of the ring and heads for the timekeeper’s position, motioning as he does so for the man to move. “Damn right,” Riley asserts as Toxxic dispossesses the unfortunate man of his seat by taking the steel chair and folding it up, “all you do is ring a bell twice per match, you don’t need a place to sit!” Toxxic isn’t done yet though, and the straight-edger picks up another chair that is standing folded by the guard rail before returning to the ring. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” Annie is rising to her feet now, unaware of the spiky-haired figure standing behind her with one chair in each hand. The buzz of anticipation in the Manchester Evening News Arena is rising as well, and reaches its height as Ichiban straightens up clutching her head, and turns around... “YOU KNOW WHEN YOU’VE BEEN TANGO’D!” Toxxic bellows, and slams both chairs as hard as he can into Annie’s head, sandwiching her skull with steel! *CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “And Toxxic just went playground ‘91 on Ann Onita!” Riley calls. “It’s a good job we’re in the country where that advert was broadcast, or its relevance would be totally lost on the live crowd!” Indeed, the namechecking of one of the more notable adverts from the formative years of many of the fans in attendance seems to have swung the crowd fully behind the Straight-Edge Sensation, and the chants raining down on the ring now are fairly partisan in their direction. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Toxxic takes a second or so to revel in the crowd’s attention, then drops the chairs and covers Annie, taking care to hook the leg as he does so. Matthew Kivell is in position to make the count... ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Annie kicks out, signifying that the Hardcore Queen isn’t done yet! Toxxic appears mildly frustrated as Kivell signals two and a faint ‘Ann-ie!’ chant starts back up, but the Straight-Edge Sensation quickly adopts a look of determination and takes a firm grip on Ichiban’s hair to bring her upright again. Matthew Kivell tries to warn the rookie off, but Toxxic knows full well that the referee is only there to count the pinfall and has no hesitation in telling Kivell to mind his own business. With the official duly subdued Toxxic drives one more European uppercut into Annie’s jaw- *WHAM!* -to send her staggering back into the ropes, then takes Onita’s right arm and sets to work twisting it into the cables. Kivell again tries to stop him, but Toxxic’s snarled response sends the referee away and he continues with what he’s doing, replicating the act with Annie’s left arm until the challenger is hogtied in the ringropes in a manner eerily reminiscent of a certain French giant. “Ann Onita semi-conscious and tied up,” Riley says, musingly. “You know, from what I’ve heard that’s not all that uncommon an occurrence-” “ROBERT!” Unaware of the speculation on Annie’s private life that is taking place at the commentary table Toxxic picks up one of the chairs he used earlier and sets it up in the middle of the ring, then takes the other one and carries it, still folded up, to the far side of the ring. Once there, the World Champion starts banging his hand on the chair to create a beat and begins to bellow at the top of his voice. The crowd quickly pick it up and in a few seconds a veritable tumult of noise fills the Manchester Evening News Arena, broadly ending up as something like: “OLE, OLE-OLE-OLEEEEEE! OOOOO-LEEEEEEEE! OOOOO-LEEEEEEE!” “OLE, OLE-OLE-OLEEEEEE! OOOOO-LEEEEEEEE! OOOOO-LEEEEEEE!” Once it has built up to his satisfaction Toxxic focuses on the trapped figure of Annie Onita and starts running. “Comet, British Airways is about to launch,” Riley begins, “and it’s time for Annie to sample...” Toxxic uses the chair in the middle of the ring as a launching platform, springing through the air and shifting the one he holds so that he can dropkick it- *CRACK!* -right into Annie’s face! “...the In-Flight Meal!” Riley finishes triumphantly as the Hardcore Queen slumps further down in the ropes, the impact having dislodged her somewhat as well as opening up a cut on her forehead. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Toxxic pushes himself up from where he landed and grabs Annie’s foot, tugging the challenger out of the ropes and fully into the ring where he proceeds to cover her again... ONE! TWO!! THHHR- -but with little more success than last time, as Annie kicks out once more! Toxxic throws a glance at Matthew Kivell, who seems more than pleased to inform the straight-edger that he only got two on that effort. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “Blatant favouritism by the referee!” Riley shouts. “Not even Man United catch as many breaks as Ann Onita’s getting here tonight!” “Robert?” “Yes?” “Shush.” The pro-Onita supporters are finding their voice again as Toxxic appears to be momentarily stumped. However, the straight-edger apparently decides that if all else fails go back to what you know, and hoists up Annie in a rear headlock before dropping to one knee and driving the other up into her neck, then popping up to his full height and finally falling back with an inverted DDT to complete the Detoxx! Toxxic makes another cover, apparently convinced that this one should do it... ONE! TWO!! THHHHRR- -but Annie is having none of it, and she kicks out one more time! This time Toxxic doesn’t even bother arguing with Matthew Kivell, but instead hauls Annie upright as fast as possible and places her in a standing headscissors. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” The chants fly back and forth, but Toxxic doesn’t appear to be listening anymore as he reaches down to hook both of Annie’s arms up behind her back. For a moment it looks like he has her snared, but then the Hardcore Queen manages to wrench her arms free and backdrops her way out of it before falling forwards, apparently exhausted from the exertion! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” The crowd seem to be getting more and more behind the challenger as Annie tries to push herself up, desperately trying to get back into this match. Toxxic was taken by surprise by the comeback and he landed on his back, an area that Annie had been working on earlier, but nevertheless the Straight-Edge Sensation has probably had the better of the match so far and looks to be the more likely candidate to get to his feet first... “Citizens, it is perhaps a mark of Toxxic’s relative inexperience that he went for the Toxxic Shock Syndrome then,” Comet notes, “as Annie uses exactly the same set-up for the Daybreak Pedigree and will of course know the available counters!” “Blind luck,” Riley asserts. Toxxic is now up, and heads slightly unsteadily back to where Annie is up to her knees and fighting to rise further. However, the Straight-Edge Sensation is there to greet her and reaches out to take hold of the Hardcore Queen... *CHING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ...big, BIG mistake. “Merciful Zeus!” Comet gasps as Toxxic collapses to the mat, hands clutching his testicles, “Citizen Onita has just asserted herself on the opposition here tonight!” “That cheating bitch is lucky this is no-DQ!” Riley yells as Annie manages to continue her rise to her feet and looks down at the fallen straight-edger. “That’s disgraceful!” “And dropkicking a steel chair into the face of a woman tied up in the ropes isn’t?” Comet asks incredulously. “Nope,” Riley asserts, “that’s good housekeeping.” “I really hope you know good lawyers, Robert...” Comet mutters. Breathing hard, Ann Onita starts to move towards Toxxic. Although without any particularly notable weak spots such as displayed by the Straight-Edge Sensation she knows full well what can happen if she misjudges her opponent and takes him too lightly. However, Toxxic appears to be fully incapacitated for the moment, and Annie takes the chance to haul him upright. Toxxic doesn’t seem to keen on this plan, but before he can get away Annie fires off a snap kick to the ribs that drives the breath from his body. Growing more confident, and with her head feeling better with each passing second, Annie shifts position and sends two left-footed kicks into Toxxic’s side for good measure, then Irish whips him towards the ring ropes. Toxxic manages to reverse the momentum, but only succeeds in providing a stationary target as Annie erupts back off the ropes and floors him with a flying forearm! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” Toxxic doesn’t stay down, but instead tries to scramble back to his feet in an effort to get some breathing space. Unfortunately for him Annie is already on top of him, and she holds the back of the straight-edger’s head firmly before jumping up to bury both knees in his face! Toxxic staggers back and with the champion seemingly on the ropes, Annie takes him up onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s carry. “What is Citizen Onita planning here?” Comet wonders aloud. “I don’t know how long she will be able to hold Toxxic up for...” But Annie doesn’t need to hold him up for long. She has already seen her destination - the battered trashcan which has already taken a beating from when it was atop Toxxic’s upper body. Ichiban reaches it, sets herself... and shrugs Toxxic off her shoulders RIGHT DOWN ONTO THE TRASHCAN! *CRUNCH!* “DEATH VALLEY DRIVER!” Comet yells as Toxxic’s head is driven into the can, “ladies and gentlemen, we could have a new World Champion right here!” Annie pulls the Straight-Edge Sensation off the mangled garbage disposal implement and places his shoulders square on the canvas, then rests all her weight on his chest and hooks the leg... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHRRRRRRRREEEE- -but Toxxic kicks out! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Astounded, Annie tries again and Matthew Kivell drops down to make the count once more... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRR- -but the Straight-Edge Sensation still refuses to be beaten, and even kicks out slightly quicker this time! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” The support in the Manchester Evening News Arena seems to be swinging once more, and Annie isn’t eager to find out how Toxxic will respond. Judging that the straight-edger is suitably softened up she pulls him more or less to his feet... then places him in a standing headscissors, and underhooks his arms. “Daybreak Pedigree, and this will surely capture Annie the title!” Comet predicts. Annie prepares to leap in the air and drive Toxxic’s face down into the mat, but just as she does so she finds her grip slipping! Toxxic manages to weasel his right arm out of the Hardcore Queen’s grip, grabs hold of Annie’s leg and starts to lift. In an attempt to keep her balance Annie releases the straight-edger’s other arm as well, and this allows Toxxic to take hold of Annie’s right leg too, then scoot around behind the stranded Onita before pushing his shoulders into the backs of her knees and causing her to fall facefirst into the mat! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” Even with eyes that appear to be only half-focused Toxxic laces Annie’s legs together, then locks them in place with his own and starts to reach forward for her head in a move that the crowd instantly recognises! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Toxxic is going for the Regal Stretch!” Comet says in shock. “That’s the move that won him the title back at Genesis V!” Annie still has her arms free though, and in this no-DQ environment she is free to use anything to hand. Her reaching fingers close on the leg of one of the chairs Toxxic dropped earlier, and as the straight-edger edges forward to try and hook in the 3/4 nelson part of the hold Annie arches back as far as she can and swings the chair blindly backwards over her head! *CRACK!* The shot strikes true atop Toxxic’s head and the World Champion collapses sideways, his grip on the leglace loosening as he does so. Annie sends the chair skittering away across the ring (causing Matthew Kivell to leap sideways in an effort to save his shins) then rolls the woozy straight-edger onto his back and hooks the leg for the pin... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHR- -but Toxxic kicks out again! “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “Citizen Onita probably wasn’t best advised to try the Daybreak Pedigree since Toxxic is well aware of counters to it,” Comet admits, “but she still showed tremendous presence of mind to escape the Regal Stretch and is now on the offensive again!” “Well we agree on one thing,” Riley concedes, “Annie is certainly offensive.” Ichiban pushes herself back up, shaking her leg slightly to ease the momentary stress caused by the Regal Stretch attempt and rubbing the back of her neck. Then the Hardcore Queen grabs Toxxic’s head and drags the straight-edger up to his feet before proceeding to scoop him up as if for a bodyslam... then positioning him head-downwards in front of her. “RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!” “Citizens, it looks like Annie is going for the Hollowpoint Driver!” Comet orgasms. “If she hits this, it’s over!” “ICH-I-BAN!” “ICH-I-BAN!” The presence of the rarely-seen move seems to galvanise the crowd into throwing their support behind Onita again, and as Annie shifts her grip to the waist of Toxxic’s trousers the noise in the Manchester Evening News Arena starts to increase. “ICH-I-BAN!” “ICH-I-BAN!” With a grunt of effort, Annie hoists Toxxic up until he is parallel to the mat. For a split second it looks as if the Straight-Edge Sensation’s dream of retaining the belt in his home country is going to take a nosedive... but at the crucial moment Toxxic suddenly throws his weight down, locking his legs behind Annie’s head and rolling forwards to bring her over with a headscissors that sees him land fairly harmlessly on the mat and her sent skidding across the ring on her back! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” The warring chants rise again, and so do the two competitors. Annie pulls herself up on the ropes and turns around to rest her back against the turnbuckle pads to catch her breath - which proves to be a mistake, as Toxxic is already charging towards her! The Straight-Edge Sensation seems too battered to pull off anything very flashy and simply crashes into Annie with a clothesline; nonetheless, this is sufficient to send her staggering out of the corner. With a certain air of desperation Toxxic grabs her in a rear headlock, then scrambles up to the second buckle and rests for a second before swinging out and down, driving Annie’s skull into the ring with the Final Shine! *BANG!* “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” For a moment Toxxic just lies on his back next to Ann Onita on the canvas, chest heaving as he tries to get air back into his lungs. Then he manages to roll over and drape an arm over Annie’s chest, and Matthew Kivell dives down to make the count... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRR- -but Annie isn’t giving up yet, and she kicks out before Kivell can find the elusive third count! Toxxic raises his head to stare first at the referee, then sideways at the blood-streaked face of Ann Onita... and sees the unfocused dark brown eyes of the Hardcore Queen looking back at him. “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” With gritted teeth Toxxic starts to push himself up, grabbing Annie’s hair as he does so to haul the challenger up with him. Annie doesn’t seem very with it and only offer minimal resistance as Toxxic places her in a front facelock... then mimes drinking from an imaginary can. “Caffeine Bomb coming up!” Riley says excitedly. “You do know that no-one’s ever kicked out of this move, don’t you Comet?” “You tend to remind me,” Comet replies acidly. The Straight-Edge Sensation reaches down to hook Annie’s right leg from the inside, but he is stopped in his tracks as Annie simply punches him as hard as she can in the ribs with her left fist! The shot knocks the breath from the rookie’s body and Annie follows up with another, and another, then one more... and Toxxic releases the front facelock, grabbing his midsection in pain! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” Ann Onita narrows her eyes. Her head is feeling like it’s been run over by a Humvie but two very clear things are helping her to focus. One is the fact that Toxxic is standing directly in front of her, and the other is the desire to win the World Title. *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* The kicks slam into Toxxic ribs, and the arms he is trying to protect them with. The Straight-Edge Sensation is fully on the defensive now, and Annie takes the risk to cease her assault for a moment... but only to jump in the air and plant a Dropkiss directly into his jaw and drop Toxxic to the canvas! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” With the momentum having shifted fully in her favour, Annie jumps back to her feet and runs to the ropes, then springs back off the second one with an inch-perfect quebrada- *BANG!* -that only meets Toxxic’s knees! The Hardcore Queen rolls across the ring clutching her ribs in turn, and Toxxic turns over to begin pushing himself upright. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” The straight-edger is up to one knee now, and the chants of the Manchester crowd are warring in his ears, doing their best to drown each other out. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” It truly seems that Manchester can’t decide who they want to win this match. But that’s OK by Toxxic. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” He rarely cares what the fans think anyway. “Citizens, what an intense match we are witnessing here,” Comet says in excitement. “Both competitors are giving it their all, and it could still go either way!” “No chance,” Riley scoffs confidently, “no chance...” Toxxic is on his feet now, and watching Annie intently as the challenger starts to struggle upright. The Straight-Edge Sensation carefully edges around the ring, keeping in position directly behind Annie and out of her line of sight as Annie rises to one knee... braces herself against the canvas and pushes, finally rising to her full height... she turns around in search of her opponent- *Wham!* -and Toxxic buries his boot into her gut to double her over, then hooks in a front facelock again. This time the rookie wastes no time in showboating; he simply reaches down, hooks Annie’s leg and lifts. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” The blows to Toxxic’s ribs and back cause him to wince during the lift, but 165lbs is still a manageable weight. “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” Ann ‘Ichiban’ Onita reaches the apex of her journey, held tight in the arms of her opponent with her head pointing straight down to the mat. For a moment she hangs there, in perfect balance between up and down, hope and defeat. Then Toxxic sits out. *WHAM!* The pinning cradle is inherent to the move - all Matthew Kivell has to do is drop and make the count. ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... ...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic simply stares at Matthew Kivell as the Manchester Evening News Arena goes nuts around him. However, no matter hard the straight-edger wills it to be untrue the facts remain as stark as the stripes on the referee’s shirt. “Annie kicked out!” Comet almost screams, spilling his PepsiMax in excitement. “In nine long months in the SWF, no-one has ever kicked out of the Caffeine Bomb!” “Wha...” Riley gapes, all control of the English language gone. “But... but...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Toxxic just sits there for a second, apparently dumbstruck as Ann Onita lies prone on the canvas. Nothing in the straight-edger’s career has prepared him for this - the Caffeine Bomb has always, always meant the end. Slowly, his eyes close. “What’s he doing...?” Riley asks in bewilderment. “I’m not sure, Robert,” Comet admits. Toxxic takes a few deep breaths, seemingly unaware of the first movements coming from Ann Onita... then abruptly a shiver passes through his body and steel-grey eyes snap open. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* The Straight-Edge Sensation gets up, wincing at the pain in his ribs and head, and sets off for the ring ropes. He rolls under them and drops out to the floor, then lifts the apron and starts hunting underneath, Annie apparently forgotten. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Ann Onita starts to struggle up in the ring. The cut on her forehead has drizzled blood into her eyes, and she instinctively wipes them clean before continuing. Most of her body feels fine - her legs are still strong and reliable, her arms are untouched, her ribs have taken a couple of shots but are generally OK. It is her head and neck that are debilitating her, the victims of Toxxic’s single-minded assault, an assault that has claimed so many victims in the SWF. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* However, Annie is determined not to be another victim. She came here to Manchester to do one simple thing; become the first ever female World Champion. In order to do that she has to win this match, and in order to do that she has to keep getting up. “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” But she isn’t up yet, and something warns her that if she hasn’t done anything worthy of a cheer from the crowd then her opponent probably has. Looking around, she spies Toxxic outside the ring, complete with foreign object in hand. He has pulled out a 12-foot ladder from under the ring. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” Annie tries to finish getting to her feet, but the sudden movement makes her head spin. In spite of everything the Hardcore Queen finds that she can’t move quick enough, and now Toxxic is in the ring with the ladder. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” A 12-foot steel ladder is a cumbersome weapon, but also a very effective one if your opponent can’t get out of the way. *WHAM!* The top rung crashes into Annie’s head and sends her sprawling again, then Toxxic turns it vertically and pushes downwards with all his might across her throat in an effort to choke the challenger out! Annie’s legs thrash as she tries to relieve the pressure but the ladder and Toxxic combined are just too heavy - however, it seems that the straight-edger is dissatisfied with the time it is taking, and he ceases his assault after a few seconds. Annie grabs at her neck and gasps for air... and now a new, but familiar chant is starting to rise in the Manchester Evening News Arena... (“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”) “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” (“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”) “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” If Toxxic hears his fellow countrymen starting to turn against him he doesn’t show it. Instead the rookie opens up the ladder, then bends down and places Annie’s head between the two legs and pushes them back together, leaving the Hardcore Queen with her head trapped between two unforgiving bars of metal! “I don’t like the look of this...” Cyclone Comet confides to the TV audience. Toxxic walks over to the nearest turnbuckle, takes hold of the top rope and takes a deep breath. Then he vaults up to the top and corkscrews back, coming down with an adapted version of the Hangover- *CRASH!* -on the end of the top ladder leg, squashing Annie’s head like a melon in a vice! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” The impact has hurt Toxxic’s leg; the World Champion yells in pain and grabs it after he lands. The damage seems to be much greater to Annie however, as after the initial spasm the Hardcore Queen is virtually motionless. Using his arms and his one good leg to crawl across the canvas, Toxxic pulls Annie out from the ladder and sprawls into the cover, hooking the far leg as he does so... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Once more Toxxic stares disbelievingly at Matthew Kivell, and once more the referee only shows two fingers. Toxxic has gone through confidence, annoyance, disbelief and steely determination; now the Straight-Edge Sensation has only one method of attack left. Pure, burning fury. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Toxxic rises up to his feet with a wordless shout of rage and spits on Annie’s bloodstained face, then storms to the ropes again despite the limp in his right leg and drops out of the ring one more time. This time the straight-edger doesn’t bother searching underneath, but instead begins to hunt through his black holdall. After a few seconds he seems to find what he is after, and holds them up for the crowd to see. “Handcuffs?” Comet asks with what might be a hint of nervousness. “Does Toxxic have... handcuffs?” “That’s what they look like to me,” Riley replies cheerfully. “Honestly, Annie’s going to feel like Manchester is a home-from-home!” “Robert...” Annie is still struggling to rise, but Toxxic simply grabs her hair and rams her face into the canvas, then straddles her back and brutally twists her arms up. Annie retains enough consciousness to know that what’s going on is not a good idea, but in her current state she isn’t really able to do much about it. In short order, Toxxic has her hands cuffed behind her back and pulls on her hair to raise her up to a kneeling position. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Matthew Kivell looks very unhappy about what’s going on, but under the rules of the contest - or rather, absence of them - he doesn’t really have much choice but to let the match continue. Even when Toxxic picks up a chair, backs off for a run-up, then charges at his defenceless kneeling victim... *CRACK!* “Sweet Zombie Jesus!” Comet yells in disgust. “Toxxic just pasted Citizen Onita with that chair! There was no give there, no way to block the blow, no escape!” “-and no chance for her now,” Riley finishes. “The Hot Commodity has taken his time, but he’s getting there in the end!” Toxxic pulls up, chair dangling from one hand and breathing heavily. In spite of everything, he is not enjoying himself. Inflicting pain on Ann Onita gives him no joy. But in order to win the match he must do whatever it takes... and he must win the match. Toxxic drops the chair and makes the cover. ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “This is unreal!” Comet shouts about the noise of the crowd. “How much more can Ann Onita take before she simply cannot kick out? However much that is, I think it must be close!” The moment Annie’s shoulder leaves the canvas, Toxxic is already moving again. He reaches over, grabs the chair and places it over Annie’s face, squashing it down for good measure. The Straight-Edge Sensation then rises back to his feet and limps to the nearest turnbuckle before climbing to the top. “Don’t waste time up there Toxx,” Riley shouts, showing concern for the first time, “just cover her again! It’ll work!” The World Champion isn’t listening. A big occasion like this deserves a big move, and despite the lingering pain in his leg from that Hangover onto the ladder he thinks he can pull it off. A deep breath... a slight crouch... and Toxxic leaps off the top rope, flipping backwards as he does so to bring down his leg onto the chair atop Ann Onita’s head. But neither chair nor head are there anymore. *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “Toxxic calls that move the ‘Inglorious’, and Inglorious it was!” Comet laughs as the straight-edger lands hard on his hip with no reward. “What can Citizen Onita do now to turn the tide? Has she got anything left?” Through the harsh, throbbing pain in her head and the blood that tinges her vision, Annie realises that this is her chance. Toxxic risked a lot on that move and is momentarily grounded; it’s now or never. So Annie rolls onto her back, tucks her legs in and quickly slips her cuffed hands past her feet to bring them in front of her body, then turns back over and pushes herself up. She isn’t going to be pulling off any moonsaults in the next couple of minutes, but she’s got enough left in the tank for what might be her best road to victory. Toxxic, half-sitting and half-lying on the mat, suddenly realises Annie is behind him and that a chain has been tightened around his throat. “RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!” “CHOKE!” Riley screams at the top of his lungs as Annie wrenches back on the handcuffs, one hand either side of Toxxic’s neck and the chain attaching them digging into his windpipe, “CHOKE!” “And it’s legal!” Comet replies forcefully. “There are no rules here Robert; if Toxxic passes out from a choke then Annie wins the match and the title!” Toxxic thrashes around, seeking to use his greater bodyweight to throw the Hardcore Queen off, but Annie hold on like grim death. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Ten seconds have passed, and Toxxic’s lungs are starting to burn. He can hold his breath for well over a minute normally, but not in this situation. Not at the end of a long, gruelling match when the adrenaline is taking its toll and the biggest prize in the business is on the line. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Twenty seconds, and the straight-edger is going an interesting shade of purple. Sensing triumph, Ichiban leans forward to taunt her opponent by whispering in his ear... which is the moment that Toxxic lashes out with his elbow and catches her in the temple. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Annie’s grip fails as the stunning blow lands on her already-traumatised skull. Toxxic slips the handcuff chain back over his head before Annie can recover, but the rookie is gasping for air and can’t follow up. He rises unsteadily to his feet and turns to face his tormentor, but Annie is getting up too. She is so close now, and has Toxxic on the run. The World Champion staggers forwards, perhaps shaping for a European uppercut... and Annie leaps into the air to plant a Dropkiss square in his mouth! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Toxxic hits the mat but gets back up quickly, desperately trying to regain the upper hand. Annie matches him for quick recovery however, and hits another one! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Again Toxxic scrambles back up, seemingly not knowing where he is, and again Annie takes him down with a Dropkiss! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Toxxic is slower now. The Nottingham native seems to be moving more on instinct that anything else as the long, long match is finally catching up with him fully. He reacts dully when Annie shoots a boot towards his midsection, but manages to catch it before impact. “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* It was a dummy anyway. Annie uses the momentum to rise high into the air and whip her other boot around to connect with the Straight-Edge Sensation’s head in a devastating enzuigiri! *CRACK!* Toxxic isn’t getting up straight away anymore, but Annie has other ideas. She grabs the British punk by the hair, pulls him up and drags him a couple of steps across the ring before slapping on a front facelock. Ichiban takes a moment to wave at the Manchester crowd, then drops backwards- *BANG!* -and spikes Toxxic right onto a steel chair with a DDT! “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap* The Straight-Edge Sensation rolls over onto his back, eyes unfocused and with a cut on his forehead to match Annie’s, currently trickling her blood onto the canvas. Exhausted, Onita drops into the cover and uses her cuffed hands to hook the champion’s leg as best she can. ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... “SHE’S DONE IT!” Comet yells. ...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Toxxic just managed to squeeze a shoulder off the canvas. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” The crowd are split again, but that’s the last thing on Ann Onita’s mind. She looks up desperately at Matthew Kivell, but the referee can only shake his head and hold up two fingers. At this moment in time, Toxxic is still World Champion. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” Ann starts to push herself up and screams in frustration at the limited movement the handcuffs give her. Seeing her predicament, a portion of the Manchester fans start to offer their own advice: “GET THE KEYS!” “GET THE KEYS!” Annie hears that chant ringing out above the others, and looks around. The keys are nowhere immediately obvious of course... but Toxxic’s black holdall is, and it makes sense that the bag that contained the cuffs should also contain the keys. With a grim expression on her face, Ann Onita sets off towards the ringropes... ...and is stopped by a grip on her left ankle that sends her stumbling forwards. Looking back, she sees that Toxxic has grabbed her in an effort to retain his one current advantage, and the straight-edger’s black-nailed hands are holding on tight. Ichiban raises her right boot and kicks out at the rookie’s head, but even though the blow lands right on his bleeding forehead it doesn’t appear to have much effect - there is simply too much at stake for Toxxic to let go now, and he clings on desperately. Annie reaches for the ropes, hoping to be able to drag herself out of the ring, but the cables are too far away. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” Suddenly, Annie stops her efforts. The Hardcore Queen simply twists around, locks her cuffed hands together and deals Toxxic a devastating double-handed blow to the jaw! The shot loosens the straight-edger’s grip somewhat, but Annie has a different aim in mind now. Instead of heading for her opponent’s bag of tricks she manages to straddle his back, slip the handcuff chain over his head again and leans backwards to throttle the World Title into her grasp! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” “No!” Riley shouts. “She only just finished choking him from before!” Matthew Kivell drops down to check on the condition of the Straight-Edge Sensation. Toxxic’s breathing has been reduced to a thin, reedy wheeze, but the World Champion hasn’t stopped fighting yet. With a monumental effort the man from Nottingham starts to push himself up, forcing his way to all fours! Annie abandons trying to keep him down; instead she stands up, trying to get over Toxxic and choke him out that way. Unfortunately for the Japanese wrestler Toxxic is able to rise to his feet... but that doesn’t help him with his air supply problem. Annie’s hands are still either side of his neck. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” In desperation, Toxxic claws frantically at thin air in the hope of coming into contact with anything that will help him. His hands light on the ring ropes, but they are of no use here - with no disqualifications, Annie can keep the choke on no matter what he does. “This has to be JUSTICE~ at it’s most beautiful,” Comet proclaims, “the instrument of the wrong-doer is being used to deprive him of his most valued possession!” Toxxic pulls himself along the ropes, seemingly heading for the corner. Annie follows, unable to stop her heavier opponent’s progress but confident that the end is now in sight. Toxxic can only take so much more before he passes out. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” Through vision that is blurred and fading, Toxxic sees the turnbuckles in front of him. He came here to retain the World Title in front of his fellow countrymen and become the first World Champion to win on a Pay-Per-View since Genesis IV. Annie came here to become the first female World Champion ever. One of their dreams will die tonight... and it will not be his. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “LET’S GO ANN-IE!” The Straight-Edge Sensation reaches back with both hands to take the surprised Ichiban in a three-quarters headlock, and runs forwards. “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic runs his feet straight up the turnbuckles and kicks off the top, floating back in mid-air over Annie. The pain on his throat is unbearable now, but it will only last a moment longer. *WHAM!* “INTOXXICATION!” Riley screams in triumph. Toxxic lands facedown on the mat, the impact jarring from his lungs what little oxygen remained. But the grip on his throat is gone - Ann Onita lies under him, her head tucked neatly under his right arm from where the Inotxxication drove the back of her skull into the canvas; the final blow that knocked her limp. Wheezing, Toxxic shifts his battered body enough to drape one arm over her chest. ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” The opening chord of ‘Rookie’ rings out over the Manchester Evening News Arena above the mixed but generally positive crowd reaction, but Toxxic isn’t in much of a state to hear it. The World Champion collapses sideways, rolling off Annie’s body to lie flat on his back, chest heaving as he tries to replace oxygen. He is dimly aware of Matthew Kivell raising his hand, and in the background there is the faint boom of Funyon’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match and STILL the SmartMarks Wrestling Federation WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPION... the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’... TOXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” “Citizens, I am amazed,” Cyclone Comet admits as Matt Kivell hands the World Title to the gasping rookie. Toxxic clasps it to his chest, then starts to struggle up to his knees. “Both these athletes put in the performance of a lifetime here tonight, but in the end only one of them could win it. Citizen Onita gave it everything she had, but not even her fighting spirit could prevail against Toxxic’s tactic of actually handcuffing his opponent - even so Ann came within a hair’s breadth of winning, but it was not to be. We have a first for 2004... and I wait with trepidation to see what this spells for the future of our company.” “The future’s lookin’ good,” Riley cackles. “Welcome to the Revolution, Comet!” Jet, Spike, Marcus and Sean are running down the entrance ramp, whilst behind them comes the estranged figure of Sacred moving rather slower. All the animosity from earlier is forgotten - at least for the moment - as Revolution Zero hits the ring. Sean hoists Toxxic to his feet and lifts him up onto his shoulder while Spike starts cracking open cans of Coke and Jet hugs a surprised but not ungrateful Marcus. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” The fans are still chanting something that he never thought he would hear after the end of a match. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” Toxxic isn’t foolish enough to think that this will last when he returns to the USA - the support he is receiving here tonight is purely because he delivered what he promised, a chance to see an Englishman at the top of his game. But for now he is too exhausted to deal with vitriol or hatred, and he welcomes it. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” Down on the canvas, Ann ‘Ichiban’ Onita is beginning to stir. Toxxic slips off Sean Davis’ shoulder and lands awkwardly, but limps over to where the Hardcore Queen lies. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” For several long seconds, Toxxic stares down at Annie. The expression on his face gives nothing away, and the chants start to falter. “We have just witnessed an incredible match,” Comet declares in a quiet voice. “We don’t want to see it marred by unsportsmanlike behaviour.” Toxxic moves... and reaches down to take Annie’s hand. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” The semi-conscious Onita looks up as her hand is shaken and finds herself staring directly into the eyes of the World Champion. Their gazes lock for a moment; then Toxxic releases her hand and turns away. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” This won’t last either, but for tonight, Toxxic can afford to be magnanimous in victory. Slinging the World Title over his right shoulder the Straight-Edge Sensation leads the way from the ring, and Revolution Zero follow their leader (although Jet pauses to plant a brief kiss on the lips of the startled and possibly mildly-concussed Annie). The sextet form a loose arrowhead as they walk up the ramp; Toxxic in the lead, then Spike and Sean at his shoulders, Jet and Marcus on the wings and the enigmatic Sacred bringing up the rear in the centre. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC...” “ICH-I-BAN!” The Revolution is underway. Copyright Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, 2004 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted November 8, 2004 And that's a wrap, kids. Someone will pin and lock this soon enough, and maybe then I'll get some mod powers. Until then, impressive show besides all the defaults... and to all a good night. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
