Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 (Pete) "Well King, it's that time again." (King) "PMSing, Doggah?" (Pete) "No. It's From The Fire! First up tonight, we have one of the four title matches scheduled for tonight, this one for the United States Junior League championship." (King) "There's some history to this match, too, Pete. Austin challenged Maddix to a match on last weeks Storm, saying that Landon had looked past some of the wrestlers on the undercard with the idea that he was going to reclaim the World Title. Well... after aggravating none other than Tom Flesher on Lockdown, he's now stuck defending his title to start the show, and taking his shot at Toxxic's gold at the end of the night..." The lights in the arena go dark, cutting off our childish announcers. Pitch black. A hush falls over the fans at ringside, as a single spotlight shines down onto the stage at the beginning of the entrance ramp. (King) "It looks like we're ready to roll already. Somebody is in a rush today." (Pete) "Not like we ever say anything important anyways." A quick exert from Rage Against The Machine's cover of "Beautiful World" plays out. "It's a wonderful place, oh what a wonderful place..." "For you..." "... for you..." "For you... not me..." ... Boom! Pyros explode from each side of the stage, launching a mix of red and gold stars towards the ceiling and cueing a change in music as Zach de la Rocha's voice once again floods the building, this time doing a cover of "Street Fighting Man". The arena lights pulse along to the beat. Fans at ringside don't seems to appreciate the obvious work that went into producing such a spectacle, instead booing the arrival of Austin Sly as he steps out of the curtain. "Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet boooooy..." "'Cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the streeeet boooooy..." (Funyon) "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the United States Junior League title. Introducing first, from St. Louis, Missouri... weighing in at two hundred and thirty-seven pounds... he is... Austin Sly!" With a look of disgust plastered onto his face, Austin slowly makes his way down the entrance ramp, the parted sea of humanity lashing out against him on either side. The man isn't intimidated, though, as he takes his time on his approach before casually rolling underneath the bottom rope and into the ring, the end of his trench coat trailing his every moment with an extra flare. (Pete) "Austin Sly looks like he's excited to be here, as always. I don't see how you can be so interested in someone that shows such a level of disdain to everything around him." (King) "Even if you don't like him, Pete, you can at least admit that he has a certain style about himself." (Pete) "Well that just goes without saying." He quickly paces the ring before making his way to a corner of the ring and removing his coat before hanging it on the ring post. He stands in anxious anticipation, waiting for his opponent. (Funyon) "And his opponent..." "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "YEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" (Pete) "It's no secret who the fans are behind tonight. These two are like night and day." (King) "Is that some kind of pun directed towards how Austin dresses?" (Pete) "No, but I wish it was." The post-riff part of "Megalomaniac" by Incubus hits, as from behind the curtain steps Landon Maddix, stopping at the top of the ramp and thrusting his hands out to his side as the lights return back to normal. Landon turns back to the curtains...as Megan follows out from the back. They then walk down the ramp, with Landon leading the way, jaw jacking with fans on the way down the ramp as he goes. (Funyon) "... making his way to the ring from Huron, South Dakota... weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds... representing Martial Law... he is YOUR defending United States Junior League Champion and reigning Intercontinental Television Champion..." "MAD - DIX!!" "MAD - DIX!!" "MAD - DIX!!" (Funyon) "Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix!" Landon leaps to the apron, before running across the apron and leaping up to the middle turnbuckle. Looking out at the crowd, Landon grins and holds his USJL title belt high into the air before leaping over the top rope and entering the ring. He holds up his title belt again, perhaps for the last time, before... *Wham.* *Wham.* *Wham.* ... getting rocked with three quick right hands from Austin Sly, causing him to drop his belt and backpedal away from his opponent. Funyon scatters out of the ring while referee David Blazenwing quickly scoops up the USJL title before calling for the ring bell. (Pete) "Austin attacked before the bell! How low..." (King) "I love it." Ding Ding Ding!!! Austin keeps the pressure on Landon, sending strikes into his stomach and then to his face, knocking him backwards until he eventually rests on the ropes. Austin grabs Landon by the hand and flings him across the ring, allowing him to bounce off the ropes and come back towards him where he quickly levels him with a clothesline. Landon bounces back quickly, but he gets caught by Austin, and with both hands on his waist, Austin prepares to suplex his opponent. Landon catches it though, and pulls all his weight back rolling Austin over into a pin! Referee Blazenwing slides in for the count... 1... 2... Kickout~! Austin powers out of the pin attempt and reaches his feet at the same time as Maddix. (King) "That's right! It's way too early to let yourself get put down like that Austin!" (Pete) "Maddix must be trying to preserve energy for his match later tonight to try and end the match this quick." Sly grabs Landon by the hand and goes to whip him across the ring, but it gets reversed and Austin goes bouncing off the ropes instead! Austin comes charging back at Landon only to be met with a dropkick that levels the bigger man! Landon pulls Austin back up to his feet before firing off three quick shots to the side of his face... *Wham.* *Wham.* *Wham.* ... *Wham.* ... and then a shoulder to his gut as he stumbles backwards into the corner. Landon grabs Austin around the waist with his left arm, then hitches his other arm in between his legs before lifting him up to shoulder level and out of the corner. Landon quickly falls back on Austin, landing a T-Bone Suplex. Landon jumps back to his feet and is almost instantly to the corner turnbuckles, climbing to the top. He comes off the ring post with a frogsplash landing it square on Austin! He stays on him for a pin attempt. 1... 2... Kickout again~! (Pete) "Maddix is showing some good strategy by keeping the pressure on Austin early. The more he can wear him down now, the easier it's going to be to pin him in the end." (King) "Austin doesn't look too happy about this, though. He seems to be getting annoyed by Maddix's games." Austin begins to fume now, flexing his muscles heavily as he climbs back up to his feet only to be grabbed by Landon again, this time trying to set up a DDT. Sly blatantly sends his hand across the eyes of Landon, though, stunning him slightly in the process. Landon draws back from his opponent, turning away to try and protect himself. Austin doesn't want to give him any time to recover, though, as he quickly locks his arms around Landon's waist... (Pete) "This could be bad for Landon~!" ... and sending him over with a belly-to-back suplex! Sly bounces back up to his feet, but Landon is still a little shocked as he slowly climbs back up to his feet only to be greeted with a boot to the stomach that doubles him over. Austin pulls his opponent's head down between his head, locking in a standing headscissors hold for only a second before lifting him up by his waist into a powerbomb position and slamming him back down onto the mat. One... two... three times before releasing the hold!! Austin once again relaxes the pressure on Landon, standing slightly out of reach from him as he struggles to reclaim his bearings. (King) "Austin is just taunting him now. Isn't this great?" (Pete) "I don't think it is..." "Boooooooooo!!!!" (Pete) "... and neither do they, apparently." (King) "Think for yourself for once, Pete. Now cheer along with me!" The audience on hand begins to get on Austin's back, but it seems to have no effect on him, as he continues to stand there slightly flexing his pecks. Landon groggily climbs back to his knees only to quickly be lifted back to his feet as Austin hooks his arms together with Maddix's and then sits-out~! Underhook DDT~! Landon's head crashes against the mat at a sickening angle before his body flips back over onto the mat. Sly, with a slight smirk across his face, casually climbs onto Maddix for the pin attempt. Blazenwing slides in for the count. 1... 2... 3... NO! Kickout~! (Pete) "An impressive combination nearly gets the three count for Austin Sly!" (King) "That was a three count, damnit! Blazenwing doesn't know what he's doing in there!" (Pete) "I didn't even know he was a referee." (King) "I don't think he ever does anyone's matches besides Austin's... hhhmmmmmm..." Pete and King's audio has returned to the moon from which it came. It died on the voyage home. They shall talk no more in this match forever. As the referee's hand is about three inches from the canvas, Maddix somehow kicks out of the pin. The smirk is quickly removed from Austin's face again as he slams his fist into the mat in frustration. Sly climbs back to his feet and pulls Maddix back with him before whipping him across the ring. Landon slides out beneath the bottom rope, though, and tries to walk off some of the pain that's shooting through his body. Megan quickly comes over to check on him. "Are you okay?" "He just caught me off guard." "You'll get him." Back in the ring, Austin watches over the situation with an eagle eye, taunting to Maddix in an attempt to draw him back into the ring for a likely trap. With Landon showing no signs if interest in re-entering the ring, referee Blazenwing is forced to start his count. "One!" Landon stretches himself out, getting the blood flowing back through his appendages. Megan backs away from him, giving him any room he needs as he walks around the outside fan guard. As his fans start to cheer him on, he turns his back from the ring and begins to soak up the appreciation. "Two!" "MAD - DIX!!" "MAD - DIX!!" "MAD - DIX!!" Fuming again, Austin bounces himself off the far rope, and then takes off towards the side where Landon stands. In one leap of faith Austin launches himself over the top rope to the outside of the ring nailing... *Thud.* ... the fan gaurd! Ouch. Landon once again gathers his breath as Austin rolls himself down to the floor of the arena. "Holy shit!!" "Holy shit!!" "Holy shit!" "Three!" Maddix pulls his opponent back up to his feet, leaning him against the fan gaurd, before pull his arm back and... *Smack!* "Wooooooooooooo!" ... knife edge chop across Austin's chest! He reels back in pain as his chest still heaves in and out gasping for air. Landon reels back again... *Smack!* "Wooooooooooooo!" ... another chop to the chest! *Smack!* "Wooooooooooooo!" ... and another! "Five!" Halfway through the count, Maddix pulls Austin up to his feet and in one swift movement whips him towards the ringsteps. Sly crashes into them, but he's lucky enough to turn and take the blow with his back instead of with his legs. With a renewed confidence, Landon comes strolling in towards Austin ready to stake his claim to keeping the USJL title. Sly rockets out of his seat though and nails Maddix with a vicious clothesline that almost turns him inside out! "Six!" ***** Our cameras switch to the back where we find none other than Manson standing, watching one of the many monitors with a vested interest. On the screen, we can barely see Austin standing outside of the ring with his hand full of Landon's hair. He rolls him back into the ring. A look of disgust grows on his face, obviously distraught by what he's watching. He turns away from his monitor and takes off, walking fast and with a purpose. ***** Back at the ring, Maddix lies in the ring once again shaken up while Austin stands on the ring apron. With another faithful leap, Austin jumps to the top rope and then springboards off towards Maddix. He rotates backwards in perfect form... Springboard Shooting Star Press~! Onto Maddix's knees~! Austin's eyes almost bulge out of his head with pain as he bounces off of his opponent and rolls over onto the mat, writhing in pain. Austin rolls to the ropes and starts to pull himself back to his feet, fighting through the pain, but by the time he makes it to his knees Maddix is already on top of him and nails him with a thunderous Shinning Wizard! *Smack.* *Thud.* "YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH~!" "MAD - DIX!!" "MAD - DIX!!" "MAD - DIX!!" Austin goes down like a rock. Maddix pins the shoulders as Blazenwing slides in for the pin with the crowd counting along with the pin. "One!" .. "Two!" ... "Three!" "YEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH~!" Maddix jumps to his feet, once again emerging victorious despite the obstacles that have been thrown in front of him. ... Until the referee informs him that Austin's foot had been hooked on the bottom rope and that there never was a three count. The exuberance melts away from his face, and he heads into battle once again. Landon grabs his opponent by the back of his hair and pulls him to his feet, but he's greeted by two hands wrapped around his throat as Austin blatantly chokes his opponent. "One!" Austin grits his teeth, eyes wide open, nostrils flared... "Two!" ... trying desperately to choke the life out of his opponent... "Three!" ... the only man that stands between him and what he wants... "Four!" ... the United States Junior League title. Austin releases Landon's throat before Blazenwing has the chance to disqualify him. Landon drops down to his knees, gasping to try and regain his breath. With a weak shove, Austin collapses Maddix to the mat before putting his foot across his throat and once again choking the breath out of him. "One!" Blazenwing starts his count again. This time a sick smile spreads across Austin's face as Landon struggles to try and shove his way free... "Two!" "Come on Landon!!" Megan screams for her boyfriend, but it's to no avail. The lights are quickly dimming for Maddix... "Three!" ... dimming... "Four!" "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH~!" Mastodon's "Crusher Destroyer" pumps through the arena as Manson comes streaking out of the curtains and down the ramp with a steel chair in hand with obviously one thing on his mind. He points his free hand at Austin who has stepped away from Maddix and mouths something inaudible, but I'm sure it wasn't appropriate for home audiences anyways. Manson hits the ring with a fury~! ... only to be stopped by referee David Blazenwing who steps in between him and the match's participants and slaps the chair out of Manson's hand. Despite Manson's size, Blazenwing is somehow able to hold him back long enough for Austin to scoop up the chair from the mat. "BOOOOOOOO!!!!" Landon groggily climbs to his feet, not quite sure of where he is. Megan screams a warning to him... *Clang.* *Thud.* ... but it proves to be too late as Austin wraps the chair across Maddix's head. He hits the mat like a ton of bricks. Road agents swarm down to the ring to pull Manson down off the apron, freeing up Referee Blazenwing who turns to see Austin pinning Landon and hooking his legs. 1... 2... 3... *Ding ding ding!!!* "BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" That's all she wrote. Austin slowly rises to his feet while Funyon makes the announcement to a round of jeers. The USJL title is slid into the ring to Blazenwing who hands it over to it's new owner before going to raise his hand, only to have it ripped free from him. Austin grasps the title in his right hand, raises one foot to rest on Maddix's chest, and then raises both of his arms solemnly. Panting for his breath, a sadistic smile creeps across Austin's face as Megan cautiously enters the ring being careful to keep her distance. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 “Good evening SWF fans; this is Ben Hardy coming to you LIVE~ from backstage in the Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona!” The camera pans back from the eager, bespectacled face of the SWF Numbah One Backstage Interviewer to reveal Hardy standing next to a very familiar figure. Black spiky hair, eyeliner, nail varnish and a mocking, lopsided grin with the golden weight of the SWF World Heavyweight Title slung casually over one shoulder. “Toxxic, at Slay Ride in December you faced Landon Maddix one-on-one for the World Title, and you lost,” Hardy begins, cutting to the chase. “My question for you this evening is simple; how will you make sure that this doesn’t happen again?” Toxxic’s grey eyes flicker to the interviewer who momentarily wonders if he was perhaps a little too blunt… but Toxxic isn’t one to take aggression out on SWF staff members, and after a second the Straight-Edge Sensation give a small ‘hnh’ of laughter. “Ben, at Slay Ride I made some mistakes,” the World Champion admits. “I misjudged Landon; I thought that if I wound him up enough he would lose his cool and give me an opening I could capitalise on. That didn’t happen, and Landon did what no-one has ever done before or since - he made me tap out in an SWF ring.” The Brit pauses to readjust his title belt, although the reason is unclear. It could be that the 20lbs of gold is sitting slightly uncomfortably on Toxxic’s shoulder, but it’s equally plausible that the straight-edger is subtly reminding Hardy and anyone else watching that despite Landon’s victory, he has regained the belt and is a three-time World Champion. “Tonight, I won’t be misjudging Landon Maddix,” Toxxic continues. “You all saw what happened when Sean and I faced Maddix and Francis in a tag match; now granted, Landon won’t have an uncooperative partner to get in his way tonight, but one thing still remains true. I made Landon tap out.” Toxxic pauses to flash another grin at the camera. “Don’t underestimate the importance of that. Landon knows I can make him tap, so his psychological advantage is gone.” “Well Toxxic,” Hardy suggests, “what about the… interesting stipulation Landon has chosen? The Total Elimination match in which you will have to pin Landon, make him tap and knock him out?” “Oh, it’s interesting alright,” Toxxic laughs. “It’s very interesting, and I can’t help but think that Landon might have played himself into a corner. You see Ben,” the World Champion continues, “Maddix is a good wrestler with some interesting moves, but he’s not exactly high-impact, is he? Can you name a single move he’s got that is guaranteed to keep me down for a ten-count? Of course you can’t,” Toxxic carries on, not giving Hardy a chance to reply, “because he doesn’t have one. Plainly put, Landon just isn’t as good as me at dropping people on their heads. Sure, in a straight-up, one-fall match he might be able to nick a pin. If he gets the Land of Nod early enough he might even make me tap again, although you can rest assured that I’ve got a plan to neutralise that. But in the long haul, is he going to be able to do enough damage to put me down before I can put him down…? I’m doubtful.” Toxxic turns his full attention to the camera, ignoring Ben Hardy as Gus zooms in on the face of the Straight-Edge Sensation. The grin has disappeared; Toxxic is evidently taking this very, very seriously. “Landon, I won’t make excuses and say you got lucky at Slay Ride,” the Brit declares. “On that night, in that place, you were the better man. However, I’d like you to remember one thing; namely, that I can count the number of moves that have pinned me for three on one hand. Only one person has ever made me tap - admittedly that’s you, but I don’t intend to make a habit of it. And no-one has ever knocked me out. You’ve set yourself the task of doing all three in one match, when I’m doing my best to do the exact same to you. You might believe that I’m going to be coming into this match underestimating you again… you might believe that because you have the fans behind you that you’ll have an advantage… you might even believe that because Spike tried to break my leg on Smarkdown, I won’t be 100% focused on our match tonight. Landon, if you’re watching…” Toxxic leans down close to the camera lens, steel-grey eyes boring out of the screen. “…sunshine, you’d better prepare to be proved wrong.” The World Champion straightens up and turns on his heel, disappearing off down the corridor. Gus turns the camera back to Ben Hardy, who unconsciously straightens his tie. “Fans, some strong words there from the Straight-Edge Sensation,” Hardy says, “now we return you to Suicide King and Longdogger Pete at ringside!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 FADE IN The cameraman pans the crowd, prompting several thousand fans to begin cheering raucously as they realize that they are being broadcast. “Such a tremendous atmosphere here in the Sun Devil Stadium!” exclaims Longdogger Pete. “Coming up next, we have a cage match that will decide both the World Tag Team Titles and the World Cruiserweight Title, and King, I don’t have to tell you that a LOT of interesting developments have led to this match!” “Absolutely,” agrees the Suicide King. “You’ve got the Critic Scott Pretzler, who wants to try and bring the Tag Team Titles back to Revolution Zero, and has enlisted the services of the ‘Dean of Professional Wrestling,’ Jay Hawke, to do so… but on the other hand, Hawke wants to get his hands on Pretzler’s World Cruiserweight Title, so we have yet to see whether or not the two of them can work together!” << Begin Flashback >> SWF Smarkdown, February 28, 2005: … In the ring, the furious and frustrated Manson stands up to face Hawke and the reality of his defeat. He considers striking Hawke, then turns away and rolls under the bottom rope to the floor. He walks up the ramp in a rage, taking no notice of his fallen partner. Pretzler, meanwhile, has untangled himself from Clark and enters the ring to stand triumphant beside Hawke. The timekeeper takes the Cruiserweight title belt and hands it to the referee, who hands it in the direction of Pretzler… …Only to have Hawke snatch it from his grip! Hawke stares down at the belt. Smooth. Shiny. Majestic. Then, before anyone can comment, he hands it back to the champion. “Take good care of that belt for me.” He pats Pretzler on the shoulder and exits the ring. Pretzler just watches him. His expression is unreadable… << End Flashback >> “Hawke and Pretzler were able to team together to defeat Alan Clark and Manson,” adds Pete, “and they may even prove that they can work together well enough to win the Tag Team Titles here tonight! But, with Pretzler’s Cruiserweight Title on the line as well, the teamwork that they displayed last week could be out the window; it’s going to take a well-oiled machine to dethrone Wild and Dangerous!” “Not necessarily,” counters King, “especially not given the tension between those two. I mean, we’ve seen problems brewing between the Tag Team Champions for weeks now; hell, after what happened on Smarkdown, I’m not sure if we’ll both men will even be out here defending the titles tonight!” << Begin Flashback >> SWF Smarkdown, February 28, 2005: SLAM! Wildchild suddenly grabs Johnny by his collar and slams him back into the lockers. It doesn’t take much to realize that the Bahama Bomber is more than fed up with all of this. “LOOK!” Wildchild growls, “Dis’ chip you been carrying on your shoulder – everyt’ing you’ve been doing lately, like making sure t’ jump in so you can be de one t’ win de match. Acting like dere is no way in hell Johnny Dangerous could actually lose. All of dis attitude you’ve been having is not de same as de man who came and saved my life… and IT is really starting t’ piss ME off!” He lets go of Johnny’s collar and steps back. For a moment there is nothing but complete silence with Johnny staring at Wildchild in utter disbelief as he readjusts his collar. “I didn’ leave home for dis,” says Wildchild, straining to keep his voice level. “You ASKED me t’ come back to de SWF wit’ you t’ win back de Tag Titles… are dese belts not important t’ you anymore?” Johnny continues to glare at his partner, anger seemingly simmering just below the surface. “I don’ know what happened to de guy dat saved my life in Andros, but if you see him, tell him dat I’d like very much for him t’ come back an’ help me defend dese titles… Y’ know, if you want t’ be de damn Heavyweight Champion then do something about it. But, for the love of God, please quit all dis damned bitchin’!” “You want me to do something about it?” asks Johnny, with his eyebrow cocked. “Yeah,” Wildchild nods. “Do something about it.” “Fine,” replies Johnny. He turns around and opens the locker door and grabs his share of the Tag Team Title belts, and then turns back around and lays it over Wildchild’s shoulder. “Have fun, Wildchild,” he says, waving his hand a single swoop in front of the Bahaman, “I’ll let you know if I see that guy from Andros.” << Seconds later: >> … When he steps outside he sees the door to a white limousine slam shut. “Wait!” Wildchild calls out but the car quickly speeds off with a squeal of its tires. All Wildchild can do is just watch until the car disappears in the distance, leaving him alone with a tag title in each hand… << End Flashback >> [/i] [/i] “I don’t know about you, Pete,” says King, “but that didn’t look to me like Johnny Dangerous had any plans on coming to Tempe tonight to defend his share of the Tag Team Titles!” “It certainly would give someone a reason to be doubtful,” concedes Pete, “but I have to believe that the SWF’s Championship Committee wouldn’t force Wildchild to defend the titles by himself; if Johnny doesn’t appear, don’t be surprised if they permit Wildchild to have a substitute wrestler come down to the ring with him!” “Well, isn’t that just typical!” spits King “The people running the SWF today make me sick; why are they showing favoritism to that chump? If his partner bails out on him, he should have to go it alone… I tell you what, Drain-Clogger: we never had biases like this when I was running the fed!” “Oh, for God’s sake, give it a rest, King!” replies LDP. “The Championship Committee has always made exceptions for Tag Team Champions if one of the wrestlers is unable to compete: back in 2003, John Duran was allowed to substitute for the injured Charlie Matthews to help Chuck Woolery defend the Tag Titles for Double Jeopardy, and most recently, The Masked Man was allowed to substitute for the vacationing Mike Van Siclen last year to help Todd Cortez defend the belts on behalf of Hollywood Boulevard, so don’t tell me that Wildchild shouldn’t be allowed to find a replacement!” King pauses thoughtfully before replying, “Why you gotta bring up old shit?” “…” “Okay,” continues King, “suppose the Championship Committee does decide to allow Wildchild to field a replacement; who do you think it might be?” “To be honest, King,” replies Pete, “There’s no telling; Wildchild is generally pretty well-liked by most of the boys, and there’s a lot of guys in the back who’d be thrilled at the chance to get themselves a share of the Tag Titles! It could be somebody like Alan Clark, who’s always had a good relationship with Wildchild; who knows, he might even be trying to recruit Wildchild into Martial Law!” “Well,” says King, “Those guys are a bunch of clowns, so I guess he’d fit right in!” “Or it could be someone completely unexpected, like Dace Night,” continues Pete, “who Wildchild used to team with way back in the JL… Heck, King, I’ve heard rumors in the back that it might even be someone like Ejiro Fasaki!” King’s face contorts in a scowl. “Do you mind, Sweat-Hogger? I just ate! Completely ignoring, for the moment, that Ejiro Fasaki was a prodigy of mine, and wouldn’t insult me by teaming with that flying freak, those two feuded for over a year! You can’t possibly believe that the two of them could ever work together in the ring?” “Well, regardless of whom Wildchild’s partner ends up being tonight,” responds LDP, “if it’s anyone other than Johnny Dangerous, a lot of wrestling fans are going to mourn the loss of one of the most talented, and certainly the most accomplished tag teams ever to grace an SWF ring!” “Not me,” quips King happily. “I’ve been waiting for this day for three years! The end of Wild and Dangerous… Finally!” On that note, the camera shifts to the ring, where referee Ronald “Red” Herrington stands in a neutral corner, tugging on the cage walls to confirm that they are stable. Outside the ring, Funyon stands resplendent in a chocolate-colored tweed tuxedo, and matching wingtips, waiting patiently for the timekeeper to call the fans to attention: DING! DING! DING! “Ladies and Gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “the following Tag Team contest is a steel cage match… for the SWF World Cruiserweight Championship… and the SWF World Tag Team Championship!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “In order to become the Cruiserweight Champion,” continues Funyon, “one of the participants must escape the steel cage, with both feet touching the arena floor! And, in order to win the Tag Team Titles, a member of one team MUST pin a member of the opposing team! Once a participant exits the ring, he will not be allowed to return… And now, introducing at this time: THE CHALLENGERS!” The lights dim as Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” begins to play. Jay Hawke steps out from behind the curtain, garbed as usual in an ornate full-length purple and black robe. “Making his way towards the ring,” shouts Funyon, “from Cleveland, Ohio, weighing two hundred fifteen pounds… he is the ‘Dean of Professional Wrestling,’ JAAAAAAY HAWKE!” Hawke proceeds to the ring at a nice deliberate pace, ignoring the boos from the fans at ringside. His music fades out as he reaches the ringside area, to be quickly replaced by Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. The lights return to full illumination as the Cruiserweight Champion steps boldly out onto the stage, the Cruiserweight Title proudly adorning his waist. “His tag team partner,” continues Funyon, “from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing two hundred twenty-pounds, here is the SWF World Cruiserweight Champion: ‘The Critic,’ SCOTT PRETZLER!” Pretzler removes the Cruiserweight Title belt from his waist and raises it overhead at the top of the ramp. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Pretty confident look on the rookies’ faces,” notes Pete. “I don’t know if I could be that confident, if I didn’t know who my opponents were going to be in a title match!” “Maybe you wouldn’t,” retorts King, “but I’m digging the confidence on the part of these two rookies; you can tell by the looks on their faces that they believe that they’re destined for great things here in the SWF, and that they’re willing to go out there and make it happen for themselves!” Hawke removes his robe, and then he and Pretzler climb into the ring, expectantly awaiting the arrival of their opponents. “Pretzler and Hawke look prepared to me,” says King. “And they’ve been on a tear since first arriving here in the SWF! And here, on their first Pay-Per-View, they have a chance to capture some Tag Team Gold!” “This is definitely the biggest match in either man’s career, to this point,” adds Pete. “Two rookies teaming up for only the second time ever in a high-profile Pay-Per-View match; we’ll know in a few moments whether or not they’re truly ready!” As Hawke and Pretzler continue to pace around the cage, the lights go out once more, and then a familiar electric squeal pierces the anxious silence in the Sun Devil Stadium, causing the fans to practically explode! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! ATTENTION! ALL YOU NIGGAZ! ALL YOU BITCHES! TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE… TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA… A single spotlight centers itself on the stage, flashing off and on in rhythmic time to Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” as it throbs melodiously throughout the arena. There is a brief but noticeable interval of time before the Bahama Bomber bursts onto the stage… … Alone… “Wildchild appears to be out here on his own,” notes Pete. “He’s even got both of the Tag belts with him!” “Well, if he doesn’t have a partner,” adds King, “He can kiss those belts goodbye; there’s no way in hell that he’s going to be able to hold onto the Tag Team Titles by himself!” “Let’s not jump to conclusions, King,” replies Pete. “Just because Wildchild’s holding onto both belts, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a partner. Maybe he just doesn’t feel comfortable presenting his partner with one of the Tag Title belts until after he’s earned it through a victory here tonight!” “It might not mean that he doesn’t have a partner,” King says smiling, “but I’ll tell you one thing that it DOES mean: it means that Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous will not be teaming tonight, and that just made me the happiest man in the world!” “And their opponents!” booms Funyon. “First, from the Bahamas, weighing two hundred fourteen pounds… one-half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions: THE WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild walks around the cage as the lights are restored and removes the Tag Team Title belts from his person, laying them across the timekeeper’s table before walking back towards the entrance to the cage. He looks back anxiously towards the curtain as his music fades out. Funyon raises the microphone back to his lips. “And, his tag team partner…” Funyon pauses, waiting for a theme music to begin blasting over the PA system… … But it never does. “I knew it,” crows King, “I knew it! Wildchild doesn’t have a partner; he’s done!” Funyon looks at Wildchild expectantly, but the Bahama Bomber shrugs back at him sheepishly, simultaneously looking extremely embarrassed and extremely angry. “Wildchild is in for a long night without a partner,” says LDP warily. “I’ve seen him overcome nearly insurmountable odds during his time in the SWF, but a two-on-one handicap match inside a steel cage is an obstacle that I’m not sure that even he can overcome!” Wildchild nervously enters the ring as Red Herrington motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “That’s the bell,” says Pete, “and we’re open for bid’ness!” Hawke and Pretzler begin to close in on Wildchild like a pair of hungry wolves, but Herrington steps in between them, seemingly ordering one of them to exit to the ring apron. “Now what’s the meaning of this?” demands King. “Why is Red Herrington ordering them to wrestle this match like a regular tag when it’s a cage match?” “Well, there is precedent for tag team rules being implemented in cage matches,” replies Pete. “And besides, since it appears that this is going to end up being a glorified Handicap match after all, the referee appears to have made the decision to force Hawke and Pretzler to tag in and out; at least that should make it somewhat fair.” “What do you mean ‘Fair?” bellows King. “This is an atrocity! Like I said before, the Championship Committee protects this guy so much, it makes me sick! If he can’t get a partner, he should have to suck it up and go alone, just like anyone else would!” “Oh please,” scoffs Pete. “Have you ever heard of that happening to anybody?” “Well,” stammers King, “there was… you know… that guy… you remember, right?” “I thought so,” says Pete. “Now, stop trying to make excuses, and let’s concentrate on the action!” Wildchild and Pretzler circle each other before meeting in the center of the cage for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Wildchild surprises the Cruiserweight Champion, taking advantage with a go-behind waistlock. Pretzler struggles to escape and finally succeeds, countering into a top wristlock and then floating over and finally around Wildchild, before trapping him in a front-facelock, but the Bahama Bomber surprises him yet again, slipping out of his grasp and taking the Critic down to the mat with a single-leg takedown! Wildchild immediately explodes off the canvas before Pretzler can react… WHAM! … And crashes down onto his back with a leaping senton splash! Wildchild rolls over and holds Scott against the canvas with a front-facelock, but the Critic counters, pulling himself to his knees and then hooking Wildchild underneath the arm as he rotates his body away, spinning out of the facelock and pulling Wildchild into an arm-wringer. “Excellent mat wrestling by Scott Pretzler,” says King admirably, as Pretzler pulls Wildchild to his feet. “Wildchild surprised him with a little wrestling of his own, but he wasn’t able to match holds with the Critic for long!” As if to make a liar out of King, however, Wildchild escapes Pretzler’s clutches once again, and counters into a drop-toehold. “Looks like you spoke too soon, King,” laughs Pete, as Wildchild pulls Pretzler to his feet, only to begin an assault of rapid-fire right hands that back the Critic up against the edge of the ring! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! Wildchild grabs Pretzler by the back of the head and quickly leads him across the ring, flinging him recklessly towards the ropes as they approach the edge of the ring… CLANG! … And bouncing Pretzler’s head off the wall of the cage! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Wildchild is the first to use the cage as a weapon,” says LDP, “but will he be able to hold on to his slim advantage?” Wildchild pulls Pretzler to his feet and applies a front-facelock, but the Critic pushes him backwards into his corner, slamming him back-first into the turnbuckles and driving the flat of his shoulder into Wildchild’s midsection before making the tag to Jay Hawke. Wildchild crawls away from the corner as Hawke enters the ring, and the Dean follows him at a deliberate pace, a malicious sneer across his face. “That’s right,” crows King, “take your time. That idiot’s not going anywhere!” Wildchild crawls into a neutral corner and uses the turnbuckles to pull himself to his feet, only for Hawke to hammer him in the back with clubbing forearms that knock him back to his knees. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! “This is beautiful,” says King happily. “Look at these two go to work! They may be rookies, Hot-Dogger, but they’re hungry! They’re going to leave Tempe tonight with the Tag Team Titles; I can feel it!” Hawke whips Wildchild across the ring, but the Human Hurricane leaps into the air as he approaches the corner, bracing his hands on the top turnbuckle as the Dean rushes in behind him, and springing backwards over his head as he crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles! Hawke turns around as he staggers towards the center of the cage, only for Wildchild to hook him under the arm and take him over with a hiptoss! Pretzler steps into the ring to come to the aid of his partner, but he catches a hiptoss as well! The Caribbean Cruiser greets Hawke as he returns to his feet with a second hiptoss, and then delivers another to Pretzler as well! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “It’s a good thing those boys ARE hungry, King,” laughs Pete, “Cause Wildchild’s serving a double helping of hiptoss in there right now!” Wildchild glances back and forth nervously between Pretzler and Hawke as both men get back to their feet. As Wildchild’s gaze is centered on Pretzler, the Dean runs back towards the edge of the ring, bouncing off the ropes to build momentum, and then leaps into the air as he approaches Wildchild, extending his arms and legs to deliver a cross-body block from behind… CRASH! … But the Tropical Tumbler spots him at the last possible moment and bellies out against the canvas, causing Hawke to crash into his partner, knocking both men to the mat! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Wildchild remaining elusive and effusive so far in this match,” notes LDP, “and that’s what he’s going to have to continue to do if he wants to have any chance of succeeding!” Wildchild races towards the edge of the ring as his opponents scramble to their feet and explodes off the canvas as he bounces off the ropes, extending his legs into a splits position as he sails gracefully through the air and then whipping his legs forward sharply as his upper body rolls forward… WHAM! … Knocking both men back to the mat with a sensational double leg lariat! Wildchild rolls onto his shoulders and then executes a backspin as he nips back up to his feet, seemingly drawing strength from the crowd chanting his name: DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “What agility!” exclaims Pete. “What flexibility! There’s not another man in this bid’ness that can do what Wildchild just did… unbelievable!” “There might not be a woman in this business who can do what he just did,” replies King, wincing. “How can he do that and still have his balls attached?” Wildchild greets Hawke and Pretzler with punches to the face as they get to their knees, and then grabs them each by the top of the head to pull them to their feet… WHAM! … Only to ram them together face-first with a double-noggin knocker! Wildchild follows Pretzler as he stumbles towards a neutral corner, slamming him in the back of the neck with a forearm shot, and then runs across the ring to blast Hawke in the face with a hard right hand! He runs back towards the Critic to deliver a punch to him as well, and then turns his attention back towards the Dean. However, even as Wildchild appears to be holding the challengers at bay, the longer he runs back and forth between them, the closer they get to each other, until finally, as Wildchild draws back to punch Pretzler in the face… WHAM! … Hawke drives a knee into his back, killing his momentum! “I’ll give Wildchild credit for being a tough little bastard,” concedes King. “He was able to hang in there much longer than I expected by himself, I’ll admit, but I think he just reached the end of his rope!” Pretzler and Hawke pound on Wildchild with heavy right and left hands before they each grab him by the side of the head and lead him across the ring… CLANG! … Flinging him forcefully into the wall of the cage! The challengers strut around the ring, pleased with their handiwork, as the crowd lets them have it: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Hawke and Pretzler maintaining their advantage after launching Wildchild into the cage,” notes Pete, “but the crowd doesn’t seem to happy with it.” “The crowd doesn’t have to be happy with it,” replies King, as Herrington orders Pretzler back to the apron. “The only thing that should matter to Pretzler and Hawke is the end result, not whether or not the fans like what they do!” Hawke pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him into the ropes. The Dean charges towards Wildchild to deliver a shoulderblock as he rebounds, but the Bahama Bomber hooks him by the leg as he dives behind him, rolling him up into a schoolboy pin! ONE! But, even though he is caught off-guard, Hawke is easily able to kick out at one! Wildchild greets him as he gets to his feet and hooks him around the head in a three-quarter Nelson before putting him on his back with a snapmare takeover and surprising him with yet another quick cover! ONE! … But Hawks is once again able to kick out at one! Wildchild beats the Dean to his feet and traps him in a front-facelock with his left arm before Hawke can assert his balance, and hooking the Dean’s inside leg with his right arm as he grapevines the outside leg with his own, before falling backwards towards the canvas and pulling Hawke into an inside cradle: ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! “Small Package!” shouts Pete. “And even though Wildchild didn’t get the pinfall there, he’s keeping Jay Hawke off balance with those quick covers!” “He certainly is,” concedes King, “and I find myself begrudgingly having to give credit to Wildchild twice in one match! He’s keeping the rookie off-balance with those quick covers; making him try to anticipate what Wildchild is going to do, and with Wildchild’s speed and experience, that split-second’s hesitation may be all that he needs to sneak out of here with the Tag Team Titles!” “Well, it’s nice to see you give a little credit where credit is due,” says a surprised Pete. “Of course, if Wildchild weren’t being protected by the Championship Committee,” continues King, “he have to deal with both men in the ring at once, and then this wouldn’t even be an issue!” Pete rolls his eyes. “I should have known better…” Wildchild and Hawke meet in the center of the cage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Wildchild takes an early advantage with a side-headlock. Hawke wraps one arm around Wildchild’s waist while hooking the other underneath his leg and lifts him off the canvas, arching backwards to drop him into a suplex, but the Human Hurricane flips through and lands behind Hawke, wrapping both arms around the Dean’s waist before he can react and pushing him towards the edge of the ring… CLANG! … Ramming him face-first into the cage! As Hawke falls wearily away from the cage, Wildchild pulls him backwards into a rollup! ONE! TWO! WHACK! No! Pretzler kicks Wildchild in the back of the head to break up the pinfall! “That was close,” says Pete, “but Scott Pretzler rushed in to make the save!” “Pretzler had the presence of mind to know that blow against the cage may have stunned Jay Hawke just long enough for Wildchild to score a pinfall, and also had enough savvy to break it up,” marvels King, as Wildchild rolls towards the edge of the ring, away from Hawke and Pretzler. The Critic stalks menacingly towards Wildchild, but as he draws near… CLANG! … Wildchild grabs him by the trunks and pulls him headfirst into the cage! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “And this time, it’s Scott Pretzler sent into the cage,” says Pete, “and Wildchild buys himself just a little more recovery time!” “Wildchild is using his experience to his advantage over the two rookies,” agrees King, shaking his head in dismay. “I never thought I’d see the day!” Pretzler crawls back to his corner, but as Wildchild is getting to his feet, Hawke returns to his feet, blasting the Bahama Bomber in the head with a vicious overhand right in retaliation for being pushed into the cage! Hawke forces Wildchild back into a neutral corner and hammers away at him with hard right hands: BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! “I’ll tell you what, Pete,” says King, “I was a little worried at first about Hawke and Pretzler’s ability to adapt their mostly technical styles to the brutality of a cage match, but they’re handling themselves very well inside that cage; they’ve definitely stepped their games up!” Hawke grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the corner, and he staggers backwards before falling on his back after being driven forcefully chest-first into the turnbuckles! “What a shot,” marvels King. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a guy get fired into the turnbuckles that hard!” Hawke pulls Wildchild to his knees, only for the Tropical Tumbler to get a few punches off into the midsection, but the Dean kills his momentum with a tremendous double-sledgehammer to the back of the head! “Wildchild trying to fight back,” notes Pete, “but Jay Hawke was able to take care of the situation!” “Not enough mustard behind it,” quips King, as Hawke pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him across the ring. The Dean backpedals towards his corner as Wildchild bounces off the ropes, and lowers his head with the intention of launching Wildchild into the cage with a back-body drop, but the Bahama Bomber leaps over him, wrapping his arms around Hawke’s waist as he pulls him over into a sunset flip… TAG! … But, as he falls to the canvas, Hawke is able to reach into the corner to tag his partner! “Tag made to Pretzler,” says King, “and Wildchild didn’t’ see it; great presence of mind by the challengers!” Red Herrington refuses to count the pinfall, as Hawke is no longer the legal man, and before Wildchild realizes what’s going on… WHAM! … Pretzler kicks him in the side of the head, knocking him away from his partner! Pretzler pulls Wildchild to his feet and then lifts him entirely off the canvas, draping him over his shoulder before charging towards the edge of the ring… CLANG! … And driving Wildchild face-first into the wall of the cage! Wildchild slumps down to the canvas and Pretzler falls atop him to apply a nonchalant cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! “Boy was that close,” sighs LDP, as Wildchild begins to crawl instinctively towards the corner where his partner should be located. “Wildchild was just barely able to sneak out the back door that time, and now he appears to be looking to tag in his partner!” “But there’s no partner to tag,” laughs King. Wildchild looks up wearily at his corner, but instead of being mad at his partner’s absence, a single thought ran through his head: “He’ll be here.” Pretzler follows Wildchild towards his corner and jams the heel of his boot into the Caribbean’s back. The Critic drags Wildchild deliberately back to his own corner and then pulls him to his feet, attempting to scoop him into a slam, but the Bahama Bomber still has the presence of mind to fight back, hooking his right arm around Pretzler’s outside leg to block the scoop attempt. Feeling slightly frustrated, the Critic attempts to use brute strength to muscle Wildchild into the air, when the Tropical Tumbler abruptly releases Pretzler’s leg, causing him to pitch backwards sharply! With his opponent off-balance, Wildchild shifts all of his weight towards the canvas, and hooks Pretzler’s leg as he stumbles forward to trip him into an inside cradle! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! TAG! … But the Critic ends up close enough to his own corner to tag Hawke back in! Referee Herrington stops his count as the Dean returns to the ring and stomps Wildchild in the back to break up the cover! “Solid teamwork by the challengers as they continue to systematically pick Wildchild apart,” notes Pete. “And I’m loving every minute of it,” King says gleefully, as Hawke scoops Wildchild up and drapes him over his shoulder. “This is poetic justice, Drain-Clogger; after all the years of illegal double-teaming that Wildchild has inflicted on the world, along with his partner, as their era comes to an end, Wildchild is being absolutely dismantled by classic tag team wrestling!” Hawke drops to one knee and lowers Wildchild’s surgically-repaired right shoulder onto his outstretched thigh… WHAM! … Crushing it with his patented shoulderbreaker! “The walls of the cage have figured prominently in the match to this point,” notes Pete, as Wildchild writhes on the mat in pain, “and when Jay Hawke scooped Wildchild up like that, I thought for a minute that he was going to send him into the cage again, but it looks like they’ve decided to try to pick apart that surgically-repaired shoulder. Look at the pain on Wildchild’s face!” “You have to appreciate the way that Hawke and Pretzler came into this match with a definite game plan,” says King, “but once again, much to my chagrin, I find myself giving credit to Wildchild; even with the referee showing obvious favoritism, he’s still shown more resolve and intestinal fortitude in this match than I’d ever given him credit for having!” Hawke pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him towards the edge of the ring, but the Human Hurricane dives forward, planting his hands on the canvas as his body bounces off the ropes, and flipping into the air as he springs back towards the ring, landing on his feet behind Hawke. Wildchild scrambles in the other direction before the Dean realizes what’s just happened and leaps back into the air as he bursts off the ropes, snaring Hawke by the neck as he sails overhead… WHAM! … And driving him into the canvas face-first with a flipping neck snap! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Whiplash,” shrieks LDP. Wildchild using that tremendous speed to bail him out once again, as he puts the Whiplash on Jay Hawke!” Wildchild rolls back to his feet as Pretzler steps into the ring to aid his partner and thrusts his leg sharply through the air… CRACK! … Blasting the Critic in the face with a superkick! Wildchild begins to walk towards his corner, before he realizes that there’s no partner waiting for him. Wildchild shakes his head, but thinks to himself, “he’ll be here,” and then quickly heads towards the nearby neutral corner, leaping onto the top turnbuckle as the crowd begins to cheer wildly: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Wildchild’s perched on the top rope!” shouts Pete. “And you can always count on something spectacular from him when he gets that high!” The Bahama Bomber springs from the top turnbuckle, tucking his knees to his chest as he flips forward through the air… SPLASH! … And extending his body fully as he crashes into Hawke’s chest with a Shooting Star Press! He remains atop the Dean’s chest as Herrington counts the pinfall: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! “Two count only,” barks King. “Scott Pretzler was able to make the save!” Wildchild pulls Hawke to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him into the ropes, but the Dean reverses easily. Hawke lifts Wildchild into a press-slam as he rebounds, but the Human Hurricane floats over and lands behind Hawks, wrapping his arms around the Dean’s waist and pushing him towards the wall of the cage… WHAM! … But Hawke lowers his head as he approaches the edge of the ring and pulls Wildchild into the outstretched arm of Scott Pretzler, who levels him with a clothesline! “Phenomenal move,” gushes King. “And you notice how Hawke quickly tags Pretzler back in; the sun is setting on Wildchild and the Tag Team Titles, I can feel it!” Pretzler returns to the ring and pulls Wildchild to his feet, whipping him into the ropes, and scooping him off the mat as he rebounds… WHAM! … Spinning around sharply on his heel and grinding Wildchild into the canvas with a hellacious powerslam! But instead of going for the cover, Pretzler pulls Wildchild to his feet and drags him over to his corner where he makes the tag to Hawke. The Dean comes in and both men grab Wildchild by the wrist as they whip him across the ring, sending him rocketing into the air as he rebounds and down to the mat hard with a double-press slam! “You hear that?” asks King, as Hawke quickly tags Pretzler back in. “Hear what?” asks LDP. “The sound of Wild and Dangerous being wiped out of existence!” crows King gleefully. Hawke grabs Wildchild by the back of the head and pushes him forward into Pretzler, who leaps into the air and thrusts his feet forward… WHAM! … Blasting Wildchild in the face with a devastating high-angle dropkick! “High-Angle Dropkick!” exclaims King. “The best in the business!” Hawke studies his partner carefully as the Critic gets to his feet, pumped up about their dominance of the Tag Team Champion. The Dean walks over to his partner and speaks into his ear, pointing to the corners. Pretzler nods his head, and then drags Wildchild over to his corner as Hawke walks over to the opposite corner. “Uh-oh,” moans Pete, as Pretzler sets Wildchild onto the top turnbuckle, “This looks like the beginning of the end for Wildchild; it looks like Hawke and Pretzler are setting up for a Power-plex!” “I must disagree with you,” counters King mirthfully. “Wildchild’s end began when he steps into the cage; this is just the finishing touch!” Pretzler glances at Hawke, who assures him with a nod that he’s ready, and then hooks Wildchild in a front-facelock, grabbing him by the leg with his other hand and pulling him off the top turnbuckle in a superplex! WHAM! But, unknown to the Critic, instead of leaping off the turnbuckle himself to provide the coup de grace, Hawke turns his back on his partner and reaches up for the top of the cage as he begins his attempt at escape! Pretzler looks around for his partner bewildered, curious as to why he didn’t hear the second splash, and it is only the raucous laughter of the fans that summons his attention back to the corner, where he sees Jay Hawke halfway out of the cage! “Oh!” cries LDP. “He set him up; Jay Hawke set Pretzler up!” Pretzler scrambles to his feet and runs towards the corner, leaping up at Hawke and grabbing him by the ankle, pulling on him for all he’s worth! “I think that Pretzler was hoping to put Wildchild away before securing the Cruiserweight Title,” says King with a laugh. “And even though I’m kind of disappointed that Hawke would try to pull a fast one on Pretzler like that, at the same time, I can appreciate a move like that; if I were in this match, I’d have done the same thing!” After a not-inconsiderable degree of effort, Pretzler finally manages to pull Hawke back into the ring. The Dean looks at Pretzler with an “aw shucks” grin on his face… SMACK! … And the Critic smacks it off of him! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Well,” says Pete, “apparently Jay Hawke thought he was funny when he tried to get steal Pretzler’s Cruiserweight Title, but the Critic didn’t appreciate the humor!” The former teammates are now going at each other full-bore, trading punches before Hawke finally takes advantage with a knee to the midsection! He grabs Pretzler by the back of the head and leads him over towards the edge of the ring, but as he tries to slam Pretzler into the wall of the cage, the Critic slams on the brakes, blocking the attempt with his hands… CLANG! … And slamming the Dean into the wall of the cage instead! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Jay Hawke and Scott Pretzler have dissolved what appeared to be a tremendous tag team for the future,” says King mournfully. “Now we’re going to get to find out which of the two of them is the better Cruiserweight wrestler!” Pretzler pulls Hawke to his feet and traps him in a standing headscissors. He then wraps both arms around his waist and snatches him off the canvas to deliver a snap powerbomb, but the Dean wraps both legs tightly around Pretzler’s neck and takes him over with a hurricanrana! Hawke beats Pretzler to his feet and races past him to the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds and grabbing the Critic by the back of the head… WHAM! … Driving him face-first into the canvas with a running faceslam! “Faceslam by Jay Hawke puts Pretzler back on the mat,” says LDP, “and Hawke’s looking to get out of the cage again!” Hawke uses the cage to steady himself as he climbs up the ropes to escape the cage. He gets both hands on the top of the cage and begins to pull himself up, but the Critic scrambles back to his feet and runs over to the edge of the ring, grabbing Hawke by the tights. The Dean kicks Pretzler away and continues to climb, but Scott takes a running leap, lunging towards Hawke and slamming into his back with a double axe-handle that stops his momentum! “Scott Pretzler with a desperation move to hold onto his Cruiserweight Title!” shouts Pete. Pretzler pulls Hawke back down to the canvas and spins him around… CRACK! … Only to blast him underneath the chin with a fierce European uppercut! CRACK! CRACK! After two more wicked Europeans, Hawke slumps to the mat and Pretzler leans against the ropes, breathing heavily. “Pretzler did the job on Hawke with those European uppercuts,” remarks King, “but he’s going to have to hurry to get out of the cage before Hawke comes to, if he wants to hold onto the title!” Eventually, Pretzler staggers across the ring and into a neutral corner, climbing the turnbuckles and reaching to the top of the cage. As he begins to pulls himself up, Hawke gets back to his feet and stumbles towards the corner, climbing up the turnbuckles in pursuit. “Hawke’s going after him,” says LDP. “We’ve got a battle going on up on the top turnbuckle, and whoever comes out ahead is probably going to walk out of Sun Devil Stadium with the Cruiserweight Title!” The two erstwhile partners trade sluggish blows from their perch, each trying to knock the other off of the top turnbuckle without losing their balance themselves. Finally, Pretzler blocks an attempted right hand by Hawke and takes control with a hard right of his own! He grabs Hawke by the back of the head and shoves him towards the corner of the cage… CLANG! … But the Dean reverses, driving Pretzler’s face into the steel support instead! The crowd squeals nervously as the Critic falls from the top turnbuckle down to the canvas!” “Pretzler is down!” shouts King. “We’re going to have a new Cruiserweight Champion!” Hawke begins to pull himself back up over the cage, but before he can complete his escape, Wildchild finally begins to stir on the mat! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Wildchild’s awake!” screams Pete. “But is he too late to stop Jay Hawke?” The crowd erupts as Wildchild crawls to the corner, using the turnbuckles to pull himself to his feet, when he sees Hawke across the ring, with his upper body already out of the cage! Realizing that it’s now or never to stop Hawke from winning the Cruiserweight Title, Wildchild calls on all the energy he has in reserve as he leaps onto the top turnbuckle. Turning to face in Hawke’s direction, the Bahama Bomber sprints across the top rope, as only he can, and leaps desperately in the air as he approaches the other corner… SPLASH! … Crushing the Dean’s midsection against the top of the cage with a diving vertical body splash! Hawke, all the wind driven out of him, is no longer able to support his weight on the rim of the cage and falls back inside the ring… CRASH! … Crashing in a heap on the canvas! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “What an amazing move by Wildchild!” shouts LDP. “Andros Dive into a Stinger Splash against the cage!” “And now,” adds King, as Wildchild leans heavily against the wall of the cage, “incredibly enough, Wildchild actually has the opportunity to win the World Cruiserweight Championship, a belt that he covets perhaps more than anyone else!” “True enough,” agrees Pete, “but he’s going to have to choose, and if he goes after the Cruiserweight Title, he basically forfeits the Tag Team Titles. Will Wildchild take the opportunity of a lifetime, and regain the one championship that he so desperately wants? Or does he have the conviction to sacrifice his dreams for to defend the title that he won along with Johnny Dangerous? Can he find it in himself to keep a promise that he made to a friend, even if he doesn’t even know if that man is still his friend anymore?” Wildchild’s face shows him locked in a fierce personal battle, all in the space of a few seconds while perched on the top turnbuckle. “I could climb out now, and it would all be over,” he thinks to himself. “I can regain de Cruiserweight Title, an’ it would all be over… But, do I really want to give up on Johnny?” Wildchild’s face contorts in self-doubt as he ponders this; meanwhile, Scott Pretzler begins to stir on the canvas. “I know Johnny better den anyone; what he needs right now is somebody dat he can trust… But he abandoned me… again; should I forgive him?” “Wildchild seems to be having a serious crisis of faith up on that turnbuckle,” notes Pete. “It’s like he’s deciding whether to try and retain the tag belts, or win the Cruiserweight Title, and move on without Johnny!” “That just goes to show how stupid he is!” barks King. “After Johnny abandoned him days before a major title defense, I can’t believe that he even has to think about this; my decision would be easy!” As Pretzler gets back to his feet, Wildchild does end up coming by his decision surprisingly easily, just not in the sense that King would have expected. “You know,” he thinks to himself, “I owe it t’ myself t’ find out what’s really going on wit’ Johnny. An’ I wouldn’t be able t’ look at myself in de mirror if I walked out on him without learning de truth!” “An’ besides,” Wildchild thinks confidently, “he’ll be here!” And, with that, the Bahama Bomber leaps fearlessly off the top turnbuckle… back into the ring! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Wildchild wraps his arms around Pretzler’s waist as he dives into the ring, pulling him over in a sensational sunset flip! Red Herrington drops down into position to count the pinfall: Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! “Two-count only!” cries King. “Pretzler kicked out!” Wildchild pulls Pretzler to his feet and whips him across the ring, leaping into the air as the Critic rebounds… CRACK! … And sending Pretzler flipping through the air with an unbelievably explosive dropkick! “Fuck what you might have heard, King,” shouts LDP, “ THAT’S the best dropkick in the bid’ness!” Wildchild pulls Pretzler back to his feet and traps him in a top wristlock, twisting his arm around in an arm wringer and leading the Critic to the neutral corner as Hawke gets to his feet, and racing up the ropes to ascend to the top turnbuckle, while still holding onto Pretzler’s wrist. “Vintage Wildchild coming up!” shouts Pete. “We could see a springboard armdrag, a missile dropkick, or WHO KNOWS what?” The Human Hurricane steps out onto the top rope and springs into the ring as Hawke gets back to his feet, wrapping his legs around the Dean’s neck while still controlling Pretzler’s wrist, and taking both men over simultaneously, Pretzler with a springboard armdrag, and Hawke with a flying headscissors! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Phenomenal maneuver by the Wildchild!” shrieks LDP. “Two for the price of one: he took Hawke down with his legs, while getting Pretzler with the upper body! I tell you, King, they broke the mold when they made this guy!” “And thank God for that,” groans King. “My stomach couldn’t bear there being another guy in the world like him!” DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! The crowd continues to shower Wildchild with praise as he gets to his feet. He raises his hands above his head and winds his hands above his head. “Uh-oh,” says LDP. “He just gave the sign for the Falling Star Bomb!” Wildchild walks over to a nearby corner and climbs to the top turnbuckle, but before he can get himself situated to come down with an attack, Pretzler gets back to his feet and runs over to stop him. He draws his right arm back to knock Wildchild from his perch with a running hook, but the Bahama Bomber blocks it with his forearm. Wildchild continues to fight him off with overhand rights, but Pretzler finally negotiates his way onto the middle turnbuckle, only for Wildchild to push him backwards off the turnbuckles and back down to the canvas! “Scott Pretzler trying to keep Wildchild from taking flight,” says LDP, “but the Bahama Bomber’s fighting back!” The Human Hurricane targets Hawke for attack, but just as he leaps from the top turnbuckle, he notices the Dean starting to move and adjusts in midair, tucking into a somersault before crashing to the mat, and then rolling by his feet. “And Wildchild rolls through,” says Pete. “I think he realized that Jay Hawke had recovered, and was going to move out of the way!” Wildchild backpedals towards the edge of the ring as Pretzler charges towards him, and then surprises the Dean by leaping in the air and planting his feet onto his chest, locking his arms around his neck and arching his back as he falls backwards… CLANG! … Launching Hawke into the wall of the cage face-first with his patented Freefall monkey flip! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “Freefall into the cage!” shouts Pete. “And Hawke is out!” Wildchild scrambles to his feet, only to be blasted from behind by the Critic! Pretzler whips Wildchild into the ropes and levels him as he rebounds with a vicious European Uppercut! He looks at Wildchild’s fallen body and briefly considers going for the cover, but then sees Hawke starting to stir. Standing behind the Dean and out of his line of sight, Pretzler decides to do what’s best for him first, and charges towards him, knocking his partner back to the mat with a running basement dropkick to the back of the head! “Double-cross!” shouts Pete, as Pretzler scrambles across the ring to begin climbing the wall of the cage. “Scott Pretzler just double-crossed Jay Hawke! And now, it looks like he’s leaving him on his own in the ring!” “Well,” replies King, “I guess Hawke brought it on himself; Pretzler must have decided that if he didn’t look out for Number One, that Hawke would eventually turn on him and try to go after the Cruiserweight Title again himself!” Pretzler lifts both legs over the rim of the cage and begins to lower himself as Hawke slowly rouses inside the ring. “He’s going to do it,” says King. “Pretzler’s going to hold onto the Cruiserweight Title!” Pretzler touches down to the floor with both feet, much to the disgust of the Arizona fans. “Damn it,” curses Pete as the outside referee declares Pretzler the winner. “Scott Pretzler has just retained the Cruiserweight Championship.” “Marvelous work from the Cruiserweight Champion,” Mr. Applewhite counters. “All Hawke has to do is put Wildchild away for three and this Technical Revolution will have won the Tag Titles!” Inside the ring, Jay Hawke begins to slowly crawl towards his sprawled out opponent as the Critic shouts his encouragements from the outside. He inches forward, crawling to the Bahama Bomber, who has yet to move, and then he slings an arm over Wildchild’s chest with the uproar of the crowd growing out of control. “Come on, Wildchild,” pleads Longdogger, “you have to keep going!” Still, Herrington drops to count… ONE! TWO! THREE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wildchild kicks out, leaving the referee’s hand hovering only an inch from the mat, and getting a huge cheer from the Tempe fans. Pretzler angrily stamps his foot into the ground – he was for sure that Wildchild was done for. “A close call for the Bahaman with the last pinfall,” sighs Pete. “However, it’s down to Hawke and Wildchild right now. No more of this handicapped situation for the Bahama Bomber, as Pretzler is unable to return to the match.” Knowing that he has to get himself moving, Wildchild quickly rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself off the mat. He’s hurting badly – the numerous blows sustained from Hawke and Pretzler were really starting to sink in, but he knows he has to keep himself going. Like the Bahaman, Jay Hawke pushes himself up to his feet as well and is met by some orders from Pretzler on the outside to ‘Put the guy with braids down for good’, but the Dean only sneers at him in reply. “Jay Hawke would be well advised to follow Pretzler’s ‘advice’ on this,” says King. “He knows not to give Wildchild a chance to get back up.” “Why should he follow Scott Pretzler’s advice?” Pete asks in reply. “After all, Pretzler did bail out of the ring for the Cruiserweight Championship, leaving Hawke all alone to decide the Tag Team Championships.” Hawke intercepts Wildchild from stumbling towards a corner and nails him with a solid right hand, sending the Bahaman falling into the corner. “See,” says King as the Dean pushes Wildchild upright against the corner post, “he’s got Wildchild reeling, he just needs to end Clown Boy’s fight.” SMACK! WHOOOOOOOO!! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOO!! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOO!! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOO!! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOO!! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOO!! …And Hawke lights up Wildchild’s chest with a series of eye-watering knife-edge chops, garnering some boos from the crowd! Jay leaves Wildchild resting against the corner post, stunned out of his mind, and looks out to the crowd and raises his fists triumphantly to them. The fans boo mercilessly but it only brings a smile to the Dean of professional Wrestling’s face though. He knows he has their hero exactly where he wants him – hanging onto the threads of consciousness, threads that he’s about to cut at any second, to give him his first taste of SWF gold. He spins back around towards his opponent… and SLAMS his fist into Wildchild’s face, rocking his head nearly off his shoulders! “Come on, Wildchild,” cries Pete, as Hawke continues to lay into Wildchild with some punches. The crowd starts firing up with some chants of their disapproval: HAWKE SUCKS! HAWKE SUCKS! HAWKE SUCKS! HAWKE SUCKS! HAWKE SUCKS! “These fans are really starting to come unglued,” notes King. “They know that Wildchild’s reign as Tag Team Champion is about to come to a screeching halt here tonight.” “And I don’t think anybody is too happy to see this day come,” adds Pete. “Not like this… Not like this!” On the outside, Pretzler watches eagerly for his second piece of gold that is about to be awarded to him, while Hawke continues to lay into Wildchild. Jay pushes the Bahaman back against the post and then climbs up to the middle ropes for a ten count punch when something catches the attention of everybody in the arena - everyone except for the two still in the ring. A voice picks up on the speakers. A female voice echoing out a name in a deep, yet sultry voice… “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!! And the crowd goes completely wild as his name rings out! “After the Flesh” kicks up, and every single fan in the state of Arizona rises to their feet with cheers as the Barracuda, in the flesh, steps out from backstage! “Johnny Dangerous is here, King!” Pete excitedly shouts, “I can’t believe it – it’s the Barracuda and it’s about damn time!” “This can’t be happening!” cries King. “If he’s here to help Wildchild then it’s a little late to join in. These other guys have been going for quite a while already and the Barracuda is a well-rested man!” “But what if he’s not here to help Wildchild,” replies Pete, “what if he’s here FOR the Wildchild?” “Well, then it could be the best day of my life in that case.” Johnny bolts down the ramp at full speed. Pretzler sees him coming and not knowing whose side he’s on for sure, turns to meet him. Scott drops the Cruiserweight title to the floor and moves in on Dangerous, swinging for the Barracuda’s skull with a shot that goes sailing way over Johnny’s head. He ducks down to avoid the initial blast and then returns fire with a solid roundhouse kick into the Critic’s gut, deflating his windpipes before putting him flat on his back with a kneelift to the face! CRACK! “OH!” Pete winces at the hit, “and down goes Scott Pretzler!” Johnny doesn’t even wait to see if the Critic has had enough. He darts up the side of the cage wall and climbs over the top and drops down into the ring as Hawke puts the ten-count on Wildchild. “SEVEN!” “EIGHT!” “NINE!” CRACK! …And Johnny clubs Hawke in the back with a double axe handle! The move only stops him from beating any more on the Wildchild, but then Johnny starts pounding fist after fist into Jay Hawke… WHAM! CRACK! SMACK! CRACK! “Hot damn!” shouts Pete, “the Barracuda is going to town on the Dean of Professional Wrestling, Jay Hawke! Maybe things aren’t so bad with Wild and Dangerous after all?” Too say that Hawke is a little queasy after the sudden beating from the Barracuda would be an understatement as he staggers from side to side, looking like a giant oak tree about to timber to the ground when Johnny ducks down and raises Hawke onto his shoulders for an Electric Chair Drop! The crowd roars in delight and Wildchild moves up to the top of the turnbuckle, as though his body is running on autopilot. He positions himself on his favorite perch without a second thought, setting himself up to deliver a Dangerous Drop without having said a word to the Barracuda, or even having made eye contact. And though Wildchild’s mind should be swirling with emotion, and even though he knows that he should be furious with his partner, only one thought crosses his mind as he leaps from the turnbuckle: “I knew he’d be here.” Wildchild flies off the post as Johnny puts the Electric Chair Drop into motion… WHAAAAAAM!!!! …And Hawke goes face first into the mat with the top rope-bulldog-assisted-electric chair drop! “DANGEROUS DROP!” shouts Pete, “I can’t believe what I’m seeing! After all the turmoil it’s like no problem ever existed between these two when they’re in the ring!” However, seemingly if to contradict LDP’s comments, as Wildchild gets back up to his feet, an anger that he didn’t even realize that he had in him boils to the surface, and he immediately shoves Johnny back, getting a huge “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH~!” from the Arizona fans! “Looks like you spoke to soon, Drain-Clogger,” snickers King. “These two look like they have yet to iron out any differences! Wild and Dangerous is going to die right here, before our eyes!” The pair begins arguing back and forth. Hand gestures flying about like crazy as each man tries to explain their situation but the other man is not hearing anything but their own! “In fact,” continues Suicide King, “we could be on the verge of a new match; Wild versus Dangerous right here, tonight, in this very ring!” Johnny finally shoves Wildchild back… and Wildchild returns the favor… and then… CRACK! Johnny goes staggering forward, into the ropes as Hawke plants a Yakuza kick into the Barracuda’s back, and then levels the Bahaman with a quick clothesline! He reaches down and grabs Johnny by his arm then pulls him to his feet and steps forward to whip Johnny across the ring, but Dangerous digs his feet into the mat and reverses, sending Jay Hawke for the ride instead! He hits the ropes and rebounds as Wildchild quickly heads for the ropes, running on pure instinct at this point, as does the Barracuda. Johnny snatches Hawke up off the mat and sends him high over head with a back body drop on the return, and Wildchild dives through the air and… CRAAAAAACK! “SILVER BULLET!” …Whacks the Dean in the head with a flying forearm! Both men hit the canvas – Wildchild landing on top of Hawke, and he quickly pulls back on his opponent’s leg for the cover! ONE! TWO! THREE! DING1 DING! DING! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!! “They’ve done it,” cheers Pete. “Well, Wildchild did it with a little help from Agent Dangerous there at the end, but the Tag Team Champions have retained while Pretzler has already retained the Cruiserweight Championship!” “The winners of the last fall,” bellows Funyon, “and STIIIIIILL THE SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOONS… WILD! AAAAAAND DAAAANGEROUUS!” “Can you believe it, King?” Pete excitedly ask, “just when you thought Johnny Dangerous had fallen off on the deep end, he comes back here to help out his partner and retain the Tag Team Titles!” “It’s total bullshit,” the King replies. “Johnny just sat backstage and waited for the Cruiserweight Championship to be decided then comes down, fresh as a daisy, and puts Hawke away. I tell you, Pete, these guys will think of every possible way to cheat, no matter what type of match it is!” The referee steps into the ring with the Tag Titles and Wildchild grabs his title then walks out of the ring, out of the cage door, and starts heading up the ramp, leaving the Barracuda in the ring by himself. Johnny accepts his portion of the tag belts while watching his partner in disbelief as he heads all the way up the ramp before disappearing behind the curtains. “What is this?” questions King, “all is not well with Wild and Dangerous, after all! After a long hard fight, one which Wildchild battled by his lonesome, he leaves just as he came – all by himself.” “There are definitely some questions left to be answered,” agrees Pete. “Hopefully we’ll get to the bottom of this by Storm!” Johnny stands in the ring with his belt. The fans have grown silent as they watch in anticipation of what is yet to come for Wild and Dangerous… As We: FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 Back in Martial Law's locker room, the trio of superstars are all backstage ahead of big matches to come. Cortez is busy running through some sit-ups on the floor, with Clark helping him out by holding down his legs. Meanwhile, Maddix lays facing away from Cortez, Megan trying to get rid of cramp in his legs from his match earlier. As these warm-ups are going on, there's a rap at the door before Benjamin Hardy enters with mic in hand. "Sorry to interrupt guys, but I wanted to get a quick word with To..." "Sure, no problem." interrupts Maddix as Hardy starts to walk past him. "What did you wanna ask me?" Hardy stops, pausing awkwardly as he runs the risk of POing the #1 Contender. And in the end, he shrugs, backtracks and kneels down beside Maddix, as Megan continues to try and loosen his legs up. "...well...I guess I should ask how you're feeling after your match earlier." "Ready." "No injuries?" "Nothing a little rubdown isn't going to cure." "Right. Well...I'll be honest and say I don't have any actual questions prepared here." "What sort an interviewer comes to interview someone without any questions ready?" sneers Maddix, before glancing up at Megan. "A little more on the left." "Well, I do have some questions for To..." "Look, don't worry about not being prepared. Just try and think of something...I'm not going anywhere." Hardy glances over at Cortez, noticing what seems to be a slight gritting of his teeth. But he then notices Maddix looking up at him and quickly scans whatever semblance of brain he has for a question. "Is losing to Austin Sly earlier tonight going to affect your performance in the main event at all?" And predictably chooses the worst possible question. "Did I think I'd beat Austin Sly? Yes. Did I want to beat Austin Sly? Of course. But the fact is, Austin Sly is and always has been very low on my priority list. I won't bullshit you...Austin Sly beat me, straight up. I didn't let him win, I didn't go easy on him...he beat me. Maybe my mind wasn't fully on the job, that's my problem. But the fact is this...I didn't come to Arizona to wrestle Austin Sly. I didn't spend the last week living out of a gym in Pheonix preparing for Austin Sly. And I didn't go through eighteen men and an alter ego..." Clark grumbles in the background. "...to defend my USJL Title against Austin Sly. With all due respect, he's welcome to the title...because tonight, I have bigger fish to fry. You want to know if losing to Sly will 'affect' me tonight? You're damn right it will. It's going to spur me on to make sure tonight ends on a higher note than it's begun." "Tonight, obviously, Toxxic awaits you in the main event...for the SWF World Heavyweight Title. You have a lot to live up to as far as From The Fire challengers from the past. All Clusterfuck winners before you have come out victorious in their title shot. Do you feel the pressure?" "Right now, all I'm feeling is the pressure on my quads." quips Maddix. "Look, sure, I've got some mighty big footsteps to follow here tonight. Compare me with Mark Stevens, Pimp Daddy Sarp, TNT, Grappler...I'm not going to come up on the winning end nine times out of ten as far as most people are concerned, let's face it. But pressure is nothing new to me here Hardy. There was pressure on me when I went out into the Gund Arena, wrestled in the SJL's last ever match and won the SJL World Championship. I had pressure on my shoulders at Slay Ride. Going in, Toxxic looked unbeatable. He ran through everyone that went up against him and the pressure was heaped on my shoulders, after winning the Cold Front Classic, to win the World Title from him. And sure enough, I did it. Benjy...I've held the ICTV Championship for almost 120 days now and every title defence I've had, I've been under pressure. I'm the epitimity of cool right now Benny boy. After all, I've got nothing to fear." "And, any thoughts on Toxxic?" "Plenty. Toxxic is like vegamite, The New York Yankees or Chris Roc. You either love him or you hate him, but it's hard not to have an opinion on the guy. As much as I respect Toxxic's accomplishments and credentials, I think the guy is a prize dick." "Classy." quips Cortez under his breath, but Maddix doesn't seem to hear it. "People have the audacity to say I've got an ego. Heck, they might have a point. But, if there's one ego in this company that surpasses even mine...and Flesher's...and the kid Pretzler, who he seems to enjoy giving the verbal fellatio...it's Toxxic. He seems to think he's some sort of...I dunno, it's like he thinks he sits on some sort of moral highground because he always does things by the rules. Please. For every time he's withstood the urge to boot someone in the balls, he's organised a gang beating. For every time he's given a clean break on a hold, he's sneak attacked one of his allies. He seems to think he's better than me because he's honest? Well, if you want me to be honest bub, then consider your wish granted. If I'm in the right position, I WILL boot you between the legs until you sound like something out of the Scissor Sisters. You drop your guard? I'll jab those mascara covered eyes of yours back into your skull. And if I want to use the ropes for leverage...I'm gonna do it. I'll tell you that to your face. I'll call you up on your cellphone and tell you. Hell, I'll hit you up on AIM. xPNKRCKTOXXICx. I'll hit you up and let you know Toxxic." "Well, that's certainly...honest." "And tonight, it's all legal. But as I was saying, Toxxic likes to think he's better than me...and a lot of people...because of his 'straight edge lifestyle'. Well, no offense to my compadré here, but jack...that doesn't impress me one little bit. Incase you were wondering, you're not up against Jamie Drazon here. I'm not some boozehound staggering around in search of a shot of Southern Comfort buddy. Smoke? Me? Please. I've got no problem with anybody puffing on a cancer stick, so long as they don't damage my voice. Drugs? I don't need drugs. I AM the drug buddy. And if I want to engage in promiscuous sex while eating pork and ham, then does that really make me a bad person?" "..." "No, it doesn't. So I'll tell you what Tickle Me Emo..." With his 'workout' over, Maddix sits up. "...usted hijo arrogante de una perra...tonight it all comes to a close. Tonight, when I beat you for that World Heavyweight Championship, for the second time in three months, the illusions will be gone. You won't be able to boast about your straight edge lifestyle making you better. You won't be able to claim your honesty and integrity makes you a better champion. Because all that will matter...is that I, beat you, two out of two." Maddix holds up two fingers on each hand, just to get the point across. "And you can go back to your lonely little world of depression, nail polish and boulevards of broken dreams. Oh, and hey, while you're there...sacrifice a sheep for me buddy, to show you're thinking of me. Because I'll be thinking of you when I'm sipping champagne, surrounded by beautiful women and...I dunno, legs of lamb..." Losing his trail of thought, Maddix stares blankly off camera as Hardy and Megan shrug in unison. "Yeah, that's all I got. You can go now." With a glance towards Cortez momentarily, Hardy looks back at Maddix...and seeing his welcome has been overstayed, quickly shuffles off. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 “It’s time now for our semi-main event, a first time matchup here in the SWF featuring two of the most hard hitting and beloved athletes in the company, ready to compete for SWF gold.” “It was not that long ago that the Insane Luchador made his return to the SWF, and immediately made waves by stating he was looking for Hardcore gold. That’s going to be quite the task, because the man holding that belt has fought through some of the most brutal, bloody matches I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen my fair share!” “True enough, Todd Cortez has evolved from a tag team wrestler into a one man army, and although he’s got the backing of Alan Clark and Landon Maddix, he’s done quite well on his own. The man has a knack for inventing new methods of mayhem into any match, no matter what the stipulation. I’m intrigued to see how he handles the Insane One tonight.” “Then quit jabbering on and on so we can let Funyon do his thing.” “Righty-O.” The cameras pull away from our announcers, and we now go to a view from the hard camera, as the bell sounds to get the attention of the crowd so that Funyon can speak his piece. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest, set for one fall, is a Hardcore Match for the SWF Hardcore Championship!” Immediately following the announcement, the opening to Alice In Chains’ hit “Man In The Box” booms through the speaker system, as Tempe, Arizona’s residents, along with any non-residents who came out to support the Smarks Wrestling Federation tonight, rise to their feet and applaud the entrace of a returning superstar. “It’s been some time since the Luchador has been on Pay Per View, and what better way to celebrate a return than with a big win for championship gold!” “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? However, I don’t think Todd Cortez is going to let that happen at his expense!” BOOM! Just before the first chorus hits, a string of red and black pyro explosions lace the stage, setting the stage for the entrance of the Insane Luchador! The fans embrace the popular star as he enters the arena with his hands full…and the sight of the light tube table in his hands draws more of a pop from the crowd! “The trademark arsenal of the Insane Luchador already making an appearance tonight!” IL carries the table down to ringside, then jumps up on the apron, raising an arm in salute to his fans, then walking over and climbing up on the ropes, as Funyon introduces him to us all. “Introducing at this time the challenger! Hailing from Easton, PA, and weighing in tonight at two hundred and one pounds., this is the INSAAAAAAAAAAAAANE LOOOOOO-CHA-DORRRRRRRRRR!” IL hops down from the ropes and into the ring, pacing around and smirking with confidence, eager to get down to business tonight. “BREATHE!” “OH!” The lights go down as the music comes up, and the roar of the fans is heard throughout the darkness, as the hip-hop track synonymous with hardcore (at least around these parts) replaces IL’s entrance theme. “One and then the two, two and then the three, three and then the four, then you gotta…then you gotta…” Just as the chorus strikes, a shower of golden pyro illuminates the stage, and the green strobes pulse, with a lone spotlight leaving the focus on the entrance ramp, allowing us to see the SWF Hardcore Champion as he powerwalks out from the back! “Here he comes, and man do these fans ever love this guy!” The Straight Edge Street Thug. The Urban Legend. No matter what you call him, the most important name of all is the one he earned the night he overcame four other men to gain the sixteen pounds of gold that is wrapped around his waist. “His opponent, now making his way to the ring, is the current reigning and defending SWF Hardcore Champion! Hailing from Hollywood Boulevard, and weighing at two hundred, twenty six pounds, he is the Urban Legend, TODDDD CORRRTEZZZZ!” Cortez is stoic, focused, as he approaches the ring, slapping a few hands along the way but looking straight ahead at his rival, who is warming up in the ring. Cortez gets to ringside and spies the light tube table, a mischievous smirk stretching across his face as he then removes his sunglasses, and pulls off his bulletproof vest…ONLY TO BE WIPED OUT WITH A RUNNING CORKSCREW MOONSAULT FROM THE LUCHADOR RIGHT OFF THE BAT! “No time like the present, eh Pete?” Since it’s a hardcore match, we don’t exactly need a proper start, and referee Sonjay Babaganoosh calls for the bell! Cortez doesn’t even have the title taken off his waist yet as he’s led to his feet, and connects face first with the ring apron, courtesy of IL! Luchador then unstraps the Hardcore Title for him, holding it up and getting a pop for doing so, then measures Cortez, and charges with a beltshot…DUCKED! Cortez fires his leg back, kicking IL in the gut, and then starts firing off blistering chops, staggering his rival before taking him by the arm and hurling him across ringside, into the security railing! Cortez then storms towards IL, taking the time to hold his cherished cross and kiss it for luck like he always does, and grabs IL and simply starts pounding on his forehead with some hard right hands. Cortez then takes IL and rolls him into the ring, but hesitates to follow, instead choosing to remain up on the ring apron. ”Cortez is waiting on him…” “No, really?” Todd sees IL get to his feet and leaps to the top, springing off towards IL, who turns just in time to see it…but any counter to the jump is countered by Cortez simply overshooting his foe! Todd lands on his feet and quickly spins IL around and sends him to the ropes, backdropping IL over…and the Luchador lands on HIS feet…and catches Cortez when he turns around with a jump spinning wheel kick! IL pulls Cortez up and drills him in the temple several times with kneelifts, then whips him into the corner. IL charges as Cortez recovers from the crash, and the champion gets a boot up…but it’s caught! IL pulls Cortez out of the corner, leaving him to hop on one leg, and then spins him around, right into a Northern Lights Suplex! ONE! T-BRIDGE OUT! Cortez pushes both himself and IL to their feet, and spins around to try and lock IL in a headscissors…but IL swings them both around again, and Cortez ends up in a pinning predicament again, as IL backslides him to the canvas! ONE! T-ROLL THROUGH! Cortez gets to his feet, and hooks a front facelock as soon as IL comes up, lifting him for a suplex but dropping him sternum first across the top rope! IL dangles over the ropes for a moment before shifting his weight to land on the apron…and Cortez quickly runs up the ropes and leaps off the middle rope with a dropkick that sends IL careening down into the railing! “Back to the floor they go, and remember a pinfall can take place anywhere in this building.” “Or anywhere NOT in this building for that matter!” Cortez quickly pulls his foe up, looking to remain on offense, and drops Luchador across the railing crotch first! As groans of pain surge out of IL’s mouth, Cortez then springs up onto the railing, standing on it and running across it like a tightrope before he leaps up onto IL’s shoulders and snaps him to the floor below with a huracanrana! “One of these guys might be a Luchador, but there is no discounting the agility and ability of Todd Cortez!” With IL stunned, Cortez makes his way around ringside, going over to Funyon and calling for the announcer to stand up…only to steal his chair from him! Cortez folds up the steel seating utensil and walks back towards IL, then simply hurls it at him, watching as it connects with the side of his head! Luchador falls to a knee, and Cortez gets the chair and brings it up over his head before slamming it down across the back of the Insane Luchador! Cortez then rolls his rival into the ring, and then slides the chair in beside him, hesitating for a moment before rounding the corner and moving to where IL can’t see him. Cortez watches as the Insane One comes to his feet in the ring, and instinctively grabs the chair to defend himself. Cortez quickly slides into the ring behind IL’s back, and the Luchador still hasn’t seen him, leaving himself prone to a Russian Legsweep while he’s holding the chair! IL lands with the chair covering his upper body and face, and Cortez rolls through with the legsweep, then leaps up and crashes down onto the chair with a legdrop, smashing it into IL’s face! “Let the innovations begin!” Cortez then takes the chair and sets it up beside IL, then steps back, watching as IL reels from having steel mashed into his mouth. The Luchador rolls onto all fours, starting to push himself up off the mat…and Cortez charges, springing off of IL’s back and onto the seat of the chair…then moonsaults back down onto IL, flattening him on the mat! “Good call, Peter!” Cortez rolls IL over, and Babaganoosh moves down to the mat for the count… ONE! T-SHOULDER UP! Luchador kicks out rather easily, as he’s been known to take worse beatings. Still, Cortez remains unaffected by his resilience in the early going, taking him and sending him to the corner, then charging in…monkey flip…NO! Cortez gets shoved to the canvas, but rolls backwards to his feet, coming up just in time to see IL charge…and leap up, scissoring his legs around Todd’s head and spinning around like a windmill before snapping Cortez to the canvas with a flying headscissors! Todd lands by the ropes, and uses them to come up to his feet, once again just in the nick of time to see IL moving towards him! Cortez ducks, and elevates IL over the ropes…but the Insane One lands on his feet, and quickly grabs Cortez’s ankles and yanks him to the canvas, then drags him under the ropes to the floor, where he then proceeds to drop him on the concrete with a quick back suplex! With the Urban Legend down, IL then resorts to the staple of every hardcore match in history, and goes scavenging under the ring to see what weapons of destruction he can come up with. “See, right here, this is one difference between the Insane Luchador and Todd Cortez. Luchador is looking for what he can hurt Cortez with. Cortez doesn’t need to look, because he can make anything…ANYTHING hurt his opponents. The man is the MacGyver of Hardcore!” Fire extinguisher. Broomstick. All the usual goodies come out from under the ring, and IL scatters them at ringside before turning back to Cortez. As the Urban Legend comes up from the floor, IL clubs him across the back in hopes of keeping him down, but Cortez shoves him back, and the small of IL’s back smashes up against the apron, stunning him enough for Cortez to pick up the broomstick…and break it in two across the midsection of the Insane Luchador! IL keels over, clutching at his stomach, and now Cortez takes the jagged end of the broomstick and jabs it into the forehead of IL, stabbing him with the splintered end of the stick before violently raking it across his forehead! IL shrieks in horror, trying to pull Cortez’s arms away before the champion simply backs off and shoves IL away, leaving him to put a hand to his forehead and feel the blood drip out from above his eyes. Cortez then takes IL by the head and headbutts him smack dab in the cut, staining his own forehead with IL's blood before kicking him in the stomach and snapping him over, dropping him in the aisle with a quick suplex. Cortez then reaches down into his boot and digs around for a moment, pulling his hand back out to reveal a chain, which he promptly wraps around his right hand! "The man comes prepared!" Luchador gets led to his feet, and Cortez holds him by the head, leaving him prone to several pummelling fists with the chain covered hand! IL staggers, but Cortez holds onto him so he doesn't fall, then takes him by the head and runs back towards the ring, slamming his face into the apron! IL then gets rolled inside, and Cortez climbs up onto the apron, then enters the ring via springboard, coming down with his patented springboard kneedrop into the temple of the Insane Luchador! Cortez rolls through and leaps up to the ropes again, finishing the kneedrop/quebrada combo, and stays laying across IL for a cover! ONE! TWO! NO! Cortez immediately rises off of IL and then jumps up, dropping his full body weight onto him with a double foot stomp! IL's coughing and gagging is cut off by Cortez yanking him off the mat, and then dropping him with an inverted atomic drop! IL keels over, and just as he raises his head, Todd swings his body around completely, extending his arm out and dropping IL with a discus...NO! IL puts his arms up to block, and the arm of the Urban Legend slams against his exposed elbows! Cortez quickly pulls back, but IL takes the arm and pulls Cortez down, planting him with a single arm DDT before immediately following up with La Magistral on the Hardcore Champion! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Tired and weary, the bloody Luchador gets up and stuns Cortez with several punches, driving him back to the ropes so that he can whip him across the ring and catch Cortez in his arms, poweslamm...NO! Cortez counters in mid-move, snaring IL's arm and swinging him across the ring with a quick arm drag! Both men get to their feet, and Cortez charges with a YAKUZA KICK~!...but IL sidesteps it and dropkicks Todd's other leg out from under him! Cortez favors his knee, and as he's down IL picks up the chair from earlier and poses with it before bringing it down across the side of Todd Cortez's head! The Urban Legend drops back to the mat, landing face first, and Luchador cuts loose, pounding on him with repeated chairshots across the back! Todd's body jolts with each blow, until IL gets bored with the beating and pulls Cortez up to his knees, then runs the ropes and cracks him in the jaw with a basement dropkick! Luchador then rolls out of the ring, searching the ringside area for something before finding what he was looking for...Todd Cortez's chain that was used on him earlier! IL wraps it around his hand and moves back towards the ring, picking up the pace as he sees Cortez coming to. IL jumps up on the apron and checks his fist, making sure the chain is firmly wrapped around it, then leaps to the top rope and springboards in, connecting with the back of Cortez's head with a springboard PUNCH with the chain wrapped hand! "Springboard punching? Well now I've seen everything!" Cortez falls forward, straddling the top rope, and IL gets up and rushes over, leaping over Todd's body and snapping his neck down on the top rope before landing on the floor! Todd goes flying backwards, his body rolling over so that he's face down on the canvas, while IL roots around under the ring some more and comes up with...a Singapore Cane! "Seriously, who keeps a Singapore Cane under the ring? Chains, boards, even the chairs I can understand, but a Singapore Cane?" Cortez hobbles as IL darts under the bottom rope and swings, but Cortez ducks the shot and counters the attack with a sweep kick, taking IL down to the canvas! The Urban Legend then grabs the end of the cane and tries to pull it away, but it only leads Luchador up to his feet, as the two men push each other around the ring, each trying to get the cane for themselves. Cortez then steps over the cane, standing so that it's between his legs, and then jumps up and kicks his legs back, driving IL away with a mule kick, and gaining the cane in the process! Cortez takes a swing, but IL ducks and brings his knee up into Todd's bread basket, and then takes the cane into his possession once again and pastes Cortez across the forehead with a shot! "You would have thought that cane was casted in gold the way these two were fighting for it!" IL tosses the cane down, looking annoyed at Cortez's stamina, then rolls to the floor. IL moves around the corner, standing by the aisleway, and draws the attention of the fans as he drags the custom built light tube table over by the apron! "What's he doing?" "Setting up for a tea party. What the hell do you THINK he's doing, Pete?" IL then slides back into the ring and comes up behind Cortez, jarring him as he dumps him on the back of his head with a quick backdrop driver, crunching Todd's neck with tremendous velocity! Luchador sits up, then gets to his feet, and circles the ring, looking out to the crowd that has come to fill the Sun Dome tonight and then points to the table, and the inanimate object draws a response that would rival any fan favorite on the roster! IL leads the weakened champion by the straps on his blood stained wifebeater and takes him through the ropes and to the apron, as the fans continue to cheer while Cortez mentally prepares for the worst. IL sets him up in a standing headscissors, but as he attempts a lift, Cortez takes the middle rope in his hand and hangs on for dear life, not letting himself up into the air! IL struggles, knowing that sending Cortez through the table greatly increases his chances of gaining the Hardcore Championship. He lifts again, but Cortez will not let go, and quickly lifts up off the apron, dumping IL over his back and back into the ring! Cortez falls back to the apron, slowly clawing at the ropes to bring himself up. He gets to his feet, and seeing IL coming to, springboards into the ring, landing on IL's shoulders...but rather than get taken over by the rana, IL holds on! Cortez starts peppering him with punches, trying to block the block, but IL runs forward with Cortez in his grasp...AND DROPS HIM OVER THE ROPES WITH A POWERBOMB THAT SHATTERS THE GLASS TUBE TABLE! "I think that tea party is cancelled, King!" "It was sarcasm, you dunce!" The much expected "Holy Shit" chant comes up, as IL falls on his ass, the stress of this match taking it's toll on him as much as his in-pain opponent! The cameras cut to ringside, where Todd Cortez lays still amongst the small slivers of glass that once formed lighttubes. Luchador drags himself to his feet doesn't even bother to look down at his foe before he climbs up to the top rope...AND HITS A HANG-TIME MOONSAULT FROM THE TOP ROPE, CRASHING DOWN ONTO TODD CORTEZ ON THE RINGSIDE FLOOR! "We've seen it from balconies, we've seen it through tables, but that man just went from the top rope to the floor and crushed Todd Cortez in a pile of glass!" IL rolls onto his back, favoring his arms which have been cut by landing on the jagged shrapnel. Though he's hurting, he rolls over, just enough to lean on Cortez as Babaganoosh slides out of the ring to make the count! ONE! TWO! THR-NO! NO! TODD CORTEZ ROLLS A SHOULDER AT THE LAST POSSIBLE INSTANCE! "HE JUST KICKED OUT!" "There's no way...no way! Are you sure?" The fans roar, and IL's look of agony is now mixed with one of shock, as his jaw drops from finding out that Todd Cortez still has much fight left in his body! Throwing the shoulder up is the only movement from Cortez though, as he's still laying down at ringside, bleeding from various small cuts on his upper body. Luchador gets up and staggers around ringside, nearly falling over had he not caught himself on the ringpost, and comes over to Funyon, stealing the announcer's chair and leaving him seatless once again! "Poor Funyon. You'd think the SWF would by him a Laz-E-Boy, or something that couldn't get stolen so easily!" "If they do it for him, they need to do it to us." IL slides into the ring with the chair, kicking all other items out of the ring before setting up the two steel chairs (one was still in the ring for those not keeping score at home) in the corner of the ring. IL then walks across the blood stained canvas and rolls out of the ring, coming out to ringside and once again going under the apron...but as he does Cortez crawls behind him and stuns him with a low blow! Luchador drops the apron and keels over, turning to face Cortez...and get dropped with an inverted atomic drop and a short arm clothesline! "Insane? INSANE? This is insane, bitch!" Cortez, bleeding but adrenalized, goes under the apron himself, disappearing as he literally crawls under the apron...AND COMES OUT WITH A SHEET OF GLASS! "So what's he doing King? Washing windows? Where's the wit now?" "Don't play your punk card on me, smartass." Cortez slides the glass into the ring, then rolls IL into the ring as well. Cortez brings IL over to where he set the two chairs up together and clutches him by the throat which draws a look of fright from IL and a loud pop from the SWF faithful! "URBAN ASSAULT!" LOW KICK BY IL! "You were saying?" Cortez staggers, and IL reaches down and pulls him up onto his shoulders...then throws him off, twisting Cortez around so that he's flapjacked down onto the steel chairs! Luchador then drags Cortez up, as the cameras get a grim close up of the blood soaked face of Cortez as he's set up in the corner by IL, who then takes a chair and drives it repeatedly into his ribcage! IL then sets the chair up as it was before, and then starts shoulderblocking Cortez in the rib cage, draining his body of its air supply before lifting him up onto the top rope with his back towards the ring! "What could this be?" "Why not just wait the ten seconds to find out? Some of you announcers are just so impatient, I swear." IL climbs up and drives a pair of elbows into the back of Todd's neck, making sure to keep him weary as he pulls Cortez to his feet and stands him on the ropes. "Oh no...no way, not onto those chairs!" Luchador lifts Cortez up across his shoulders, as the fans gasp as they witness the Insane One bust out a TOP ROPE GOREGASM THROUGH TWO CHAIRS...THAT TODD CORTEZ SOMEHOW FLIPS OUT OF! "HOW DID HE DO THAT?" Cortez falls on one knee, but he pushes right up and swipes IL's feet out from under him, crotching him HARD on the top rope! "Amazing! Todd Cortez not only would have lost his title, but would have been stuck in a halo due to a broken neck had Luchador connected!" Cortez perches himself on one knee, wiping the blood from his eyes and then coming up, slowly pacing the ring. He stands by the pane of glass he had taken from under the apron and looks down at it, then slowly turns his head to look at the two folding chairs that remain seated upright. "You have to wonder what's going through the mind of that man right now..." If you look hard enough, you might be able to see the lightbulb go off over Todd's head, as he pulls the glass up off the mat and into his hands, then walks over to the chairs, kicking them apart and laying the glass across them, making a glass table of sorts! "Oh. My. God." Luchador has begun to push up off the ropes, but Cortez scurries up to the middle rope, pounding on his back to keep him down. IL fires off a back elbow, knocking Cortez back to the mat, but the Urban Legend remains on his feet, only momentarily stunned. IL tries getting up again, but Cortez runs back up the ropes and locks IL in a full nelson, trapping his arms and PULLING HIM OFF THE TURNBUCKLES WHILE IN THE FULL NELSON, SENDING HIM UP AND OVER WITH A DRAGON SUPLEX THAT SENDS THE INSANE LUCHADOR THROUGH THE GLASS! "THE GLASS IS BROKEN! HIS NECK IS BROKEN! MY GOD HE MIGHT BE DEAD FOR ALL WE KNOW!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" Todd Cortez breathes heavily as he looks up at the lights, while the Insane Luchador lays face first on the mat motionless. Cortez rolls over, his body aching, as he crawls through the shrapnel and rolls IL onto his back, then drapes an arm over his chest. "This is it, right here!" ONE!...AND THE REF CUTS HIS HAND ON GLASS DURING THE COUNT! "What the...that idiot! Cortez has this thing in the bag!" Cortez doesn't get up, but when he doesn't hear the sound of a bell after a few moments, he looks up, and sees Sonjay clutching his right hand, freaking out at the sight of blood coming from it. Cortez pushes up to his feet and stalks the referee, blocking him in the corner and scowling, as his match-ender was just rendered useless thanks to the ref's injury. Sonjay shows Cortez his hand and pleads for mercy, and the Hardcore Kingpin tears the wifebeater off his body and wraps it tightly around Sonjay's hand as a makeshift bandage. He turns back to IL, who hasn't moved, and then pulls each chair up and folds it before stacking them one on top of the other. Cortez then moves for his opponent and pulls the dead weight up off the canvas, setting him between his legs before pushing up off the mat and over his back...CARRYING INSANE LUCHADOR INTO A RIOT ACT PLUS ONTO THE TWO STEEL CHAIRS! "I don't think there's a masseuse alive that'll get that kink out of his neck!" The body of IL flops out of Cortez's hands like a fish out of water, the only motion it makes coming from the shock and impact of the manuever. Cortez covers, and Babaganoosh comes down to the canvas, making sure that this time there's no glass in his way to do his job. ONE! TWO! THREE! The bell sounds, and an exhausted Cortez rolls off of IL, laying down and gasping for air, while the referee is handed the Hardcore Title by Funyon. "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner...and STILL the SWF Hardcore Champion...the Urban Legend, TODDDD CORRRTEZZZZZ!" Funyon's voice booms over the sound of "Breathe", as the referee helps Cortez to his feet. Todd looks at the ref, almost just to reassure himself that the match is over, and is handed his title. Cortez takes it, and as the referee raises his hand, Cortez brings his other arm up, displaying the Hardcore Title proudly for all to see. "There was glass, there were chairs, there was blood, and for one man, there was victory. Todd Cortez impresses yet again, and continues blazing a path of violent innovation through the SWF! Let's take a look at some of the hard hitting action from this one again, shall we?" The SWF logo flashes on the screen as we're taken back to earlier in the match, the first incident showcased being the powerbomb from the ring through the light tube table. "Insane Luchador living up to his name here, as he follows up with a big moonsault down onto nothing but his rival and the concrete floor!" Next up, IL drops Cortez down across both chairs with an F5 like manuever, crushing the sternum of the champion. "Right there, IL thought he had worn him down, but as we saw, it was not to be, as Cortez set up a GLASS TABLE of all things to one up what Luchador did to him earlier by doing THIS..." The dragon suplex off the ropes is shown, with IL coming down almost completely vertical on his head and neck. "And finally, the coup de grace, which we wouldn't have seen had it not been for the injury to our official, the tribute to Mike Van Siclen, the Riot Act Plus!" Cortez's finisher is shown, as IL is dropped on his neck for a second time, compacted on both of the steel chairs. We also see the one-two-three that followed, and allowed Cortez to retain his championship. Cut back to live footage, and Cortez is just finishing circling ringside, as fans pat him on the back and look to shake his hand, not one of them caring that their hero is drenched in his own blood, as well as that of his opponent. Todd gets up the ramp and stands on the stage, the walk to the back causing him to be winded as he's far too spent for even the simplest actions. Despite his physical state, he turns one last time to the crowd and throws the belt up, reminding everyone just who the SWF's Most Violent Player is. "Hardcore history was made here tonight folks, and we're STILL not done. From The Fire continues, as does the reign of that man, our Hardcore Champion!" Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 For a moment the music fades out and the lights go down. There is a brief, muted buzz of excitement from the crowd which lessens until there is almost total stillness. Then flames abruptly seem to consume the Smarktron and in their wake is the smouldering ‘From The Fire’ logo… and the figures of two very well-known men. On the left, a red-and-black bandana keeping his floppy blonde hair back from his face, is a fresh-faced young wrestler who has started to fill out a bit but is still relatively scrawny compared to some of the big brutes on the roster. To his right and behind him is a pretty, blonde female, the sort to give Hugh Hefner an instant wet dream and dollar signs simultaneously. The male grins at the camera to reveal white, even teeth in a smile that is not so much confident as cocky. LANDON ‘LA CUCARACHA’ MADDIX (w/Megan Skye) (SWF ICTV Champion) “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The right-hand side is the dark side; the wrestler here has short, spiky blue-black hair and steel-grey eyes rimmed with eyeliner, and the hand that rests on the World Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder has the nails painted black. To his left and behind him is a girl that would give Hugh Hefner a black eye if he looked at her the wrong way - tall and pretty, but with piercings aplenty, red-and-black dreadlocks and a truly wicked smile. The wrestler grins as well; a sinister, lopsided movement that causes the right-hand side of his face to crease up. TOXXIC (w/Jet) (SWF World Heavyweight Champion) “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” An image of the SWF World Heavyweight Title belt suddenly eclipses the visages of both men, filling the Smarktron and prompting a spontaneous cheer from the fans in attendance. The belt then recedes to rest at the bottom of the picture. WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH (Total Elimination) “Well, that just about says it all,” Longdogger Pete says as the Smarktron settles into inactivity, the two grinning men still staring out at the audience. “We could almost be back at Slay Ride, as we have Landon Maddix challenging Toxxic for the World Title. The main differences are that this is Toxxic’s first defence in a new title reign, Landon has already competed once tonight for the USJL Title, and-” “-he won’t beat Toxxic this time,” Suicide King finishes with certainty. “No way, not after all the work Toxxic has done with Chris Card.” “…I was going to explain about the rules this time being Total Elimination, and how they differed from normal singles match rules,” Pete tells his partner, “but you go ahead and BUTT in.” “Thanks, I will.” ‘PREPARE… FOR… LANDON!’ ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The customised version of ‘Megalomaniac’ by Incubus rings out, drawing another massive cheer from the Arizonan crowd as an image of Landon Maddix posing with the World Title flashes up onto the Smarktron, followed moments later by the man himself for the second time this evening! Maddix steps through the curtain and throws his arms out to the side as he slowly turns on the spot, inviting another round of cheers (which he gets) before holding his arms out to the back and prompting ‘The Perfect 10’ Megan Skye to follow him out. Megan walks demurely out from the backstage area and receives yet another cheer before the pair start to make their way down the entrance ramp. “You know, I’m still wondering how this kid got to where he is today,” King muses as Landon pauses to slap some hands with the fans at ringside. “I mean come on Dogger, think about it. On the list of World Champions we’ve had, does the name ‘Landon Maddix’ really fit? The Suicide King of course,” King pauses to preen for a second, “El Luchadore Magnifico, Tom Flesher… Thugg, MacPhisto… hell, even Stevens.” The former Commissioner points at the scrawny, floppy-haired youth only just out of his teens who is currently posing for a picture with a couple of near-hysterical girls while Megan wields the camera. “Look at that doofus. Can you think of a worse World Champion?” “Well, most of 2004 springs to mind…” Pete mutters. Leaving the screaming fangirls behind him. Landon leaps up to the ring apron, runs along it and then hops up to the middle turnbuckle. The Sun Devil Stadium has no hesitation in showing its support for the Cockroach… “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Maddix smiles again and holds his arms out again, then leaps over the top rope and lands in the middle of the ring where he strips his ‘Cheat 2 Win’ t-shirt off and throws it into the crowd before slapping Funyon on the shoulder and shaking the hand of SWF Head Official Matthew Kivell. “I saw that!” King snaps. “He just passed Kivell some money! He’s trying to bribe the official!” “You can only bribe Kivell with beer,” Pete replies firmly. “You don’t hang around with Danny Dagda for long without some major character alterations taking place.” Having greeted the ring announcer and referee Landon hunkers down by the ropes on the far side of the ring, discussing last minute tactics with Megan Skye. However, the Martial Law pairing’s discussion is cut short as the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire crashes out through the Sun Devil Stadium and the Smarktron whites out before starting to fade down to black. As it does so, jagged white letters flash up an oh-so-familiar phrase… ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG’ As the jagged guitar starts the screen changes again to show a spiky black-haired head that raises and grins out at Tempe, Arizona with sinister lopsided smile that never reaches the steel-grey eyes. The Smarktron shifts to other images - Toxxic hitting the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas; Toxxic and the Insane Luchador brawling all over the Wachovia Center in Philly; Toxxic dropping Nathaniel Kibagami on his head with the Caffeine Bomb. Finally it changes one more time to show Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome as red blasts of pyro begin to climb the entrance ramp, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the final, stagewide blast- *BAM-BAM-BAM-bap-BOOOM!!* -that signals the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! For a moment all that can be seen is smoke and the glow of pyro after-image behind everyone’s eyelids - then a recognisable figure strides through, World Heavyweight Title strapped around its waist and completely oblivious to the jeers and boos coming from all sides. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Now this, this is a World Champion,” King proclaims as Toxxic marches down the ramp to the ring with Jet trailing behind him. The Straight-Edge Sensation pauses as he reaches the ringside area to crack his neck from side-to-side, then kisses his girlfriend for luck and rolls into the ring. “Take a good look, Pete; this man is the present and future of this company.” “May Edwin have mercy on our souls.” Ignoring Maddix for the moment, Toxxic takes up position in the centre of the ring and waits for the first verse to come in, then throws his arms wide with the palms flat to send another blast of pyro skywards from the top of each turnbuckle! *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 turned into shame And all the ‘could-have-beens’ rearrange…’ The pyro jets die down and Toxxic at last turns to face his opponent for the night, lopsided grin already creasing his face. Landon returns the gaze impassively as the two lock eyes for a moment; then Toxxic breaks the staredown and removes his belt to hand it to Kivell - also shaking hands with the referee, to Landon’s vague surprise - and removing his ‘World Champion Tour 2004’ shirt to hurl into the first row of the crowd where a couple of goth girls in heavy eyeliner fight over it. As ‘Rookie’ dies down, Funyon steps forward to do his job. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Total Elimination match with a 60-minute time limit,” the veteran ring announcer begins, “and is for the SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPIONSHIP!” “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “FUN-YON!” “FUN-YON!” “In order to win this match,” Funyon continues, grinning, “either competitor must score a pinfall, a submission and a knockout - defined as being unable to answer the referee’s ten-count. The first person to do all three of these things will win the match and the World Heavyweight Title!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The fans in the Sun Devil Stadium give that announcement another cheer - there can be no doubt about who they want to win the match and the title, and both men in the ring know it. “Introducing first, on my left,” Funyon starts again, “he is accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye and represents Martial Law; from Huron, North Dakota, he weighs in tonight at 220lbs and is the current and longest-reigning ICTV Champion of all time… he is LANDON… ‘LA CUCARACHAAAAAAAAA… MAAAAAD-DIIIIXXXXXX!!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Landon has left his title in the back for this match; there is no question about what he is focused on, and that is the 20lbs of gold currently weighing down Matthew Kivell. Grinning at the support he is still getting from the crowd, Maddix turns and spreads his arms wide, seeming to encompass them all in the gesture. “And his opponent,” Funyon continues, “accompanied to the ring by Jet-” “SHOW YOUR TITS!” “SHOW YOUR TITS!” “-and representing Revolution Zero,” Funyon carries on gamely over a group of drunks in one section of the stadium who evidently saw the show that emanated from the Panarchy Frat House, “from Nottingham, England; he weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is the reigning and defending SWF World Heavyweight Champion… ‘The Straight-Edge Sensation’, TOXXXX-IIIIIIIIC!!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Toxxic makes no move to acknowledge the crowd; instead the British punk just cracks his neck again and fixes Landon with a stare. Maddix returns it, but this time Toxxic doesn’t look away and the two slowly move towards each other. Kivell hastily shows the belt to all four sides of the arena, then hands it out through the ropes to guest timekeeper Andrea Montgomery. *DING-DING-DING!* Both Toxxic and Landon are speaking, although the cameras can’t pick up their exact words. Neither man looks willing to back down, but Toxxic is the first to raise one hand in the air, fingers wiggling, to invite Maddix in for a Greco-Roman knucklelock. Landon steps forward cautiously and raises his arm as well… but then shakes his head, grins and steps back, declining the Straight-Edge Sensation’s offer. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “A sensible move there on Landon’s part,” Pete notes, “as he has not only already been through one match this evening but is very likely to be overpowered by his opponent anyway.” “That’s one interpretation,” King admits. “Mine would be that the kid is a craven waste of space who doesn’t deserve to be in the same ring as Toxxic, but you’re entitled to your delusions.” Toxxic doesn’t seem best pleased that his opening gambit has been declined so he motions Landon in for a lockup. Maddix steps forward and raises his arms… but again, just before contact is made he grins and backs off, waving Toxxic away as if the straight-edger had just offered him a tasty morsel of food that he simply couldn’t accept because he’s stuffed, you know? “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic’s eyes narrow and he raises both black-nailed hands in the air, daring Maddix to take him on in a knucklelock. This time Maddix raises both his hands and steps forward until his fingers are about to interlace with his opponent’s… then steps away and laughs as Toxxic glowers at him. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “And now it’s turned into a mind game on Landon’s part,” Pete asserts. “If he can frustrate Toxxic by repeatedly not playing along, he can make the hot-headed Brit make a mistake.” But Toxxic seems to have realised what is happening, and backs off himself to a corner of the ring. When he reaches the turnbuckle he suddenly hops up, draping himself across the two top ropes as if on a hammock and inspects his nail varnish. Landon looks puzzled at this new development but Toxxic starts speaking. Again, the words cannot quite be made out but the gist is clear - ‘I’m the champion, you have to beat me, I can wait all day.’ “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Now it’s Landon’s eyes that narrow as he realises the truth in Toxxic’s words, and since his planned mind game doesn’t seem to have worked he admits defeat and takes up position in the centre of the ring, feet spread apart and one hand in the air for a knucklelock. Toxxic raises his eyebrows in surprise but hops down from his turnbuckle and comes forward. The straight-edger reaches up with his left hand to meet Landon’s right, then their opposite hands carefully start to mesh… …and Landon instantly tries to kick Toxxic in the gut, but the Brit blocks it with a knee and then uses his right foot to kick Landon’s left hand loose and spins behind his opponent to apply a hammerlock to the right arm! Before Landon has even realised what’s happened Toxxic has changed hands and is reaching forward with his left arm, attempting to apply a Dragon Sleeper and cinch the Repeat To Fade in early, but Landon fights off the marauding arm and then fires one, two, three back elbows into Toxxic’s temple to stun his opponent. Toxxic’s grip slips a little and Landon manages to twist out into his own hammerlock, then steps on the back of Toxxic’s right leg to drop the World Champion to his knees and scoots around to the front to apply a front facelock with his right arm, keeping the hammerlock in place with his left hand. “Don’t forget King, both these men have been trained by Chris Card,” Longdogger Pete reminds his commentary partner, “and if Toxxic has been trained more recently, well, Landon was trained for longer!” Toxxic isn’t going to be subdued this easily however, and the straight-edger begins battering at Landon’s ribs with his left hand. The blows knock some of the wind out of the ICTV Champion and allows Toxxic to wriggle his right arm free as Landon’s grip loosens in turn. The front facelock is still applied however, but Toxxic grabs Landon behind both knees and bulls forward, hoisting his opponent off his feet and driving him back into the nearest turnbuckles! The force of this impact knocks a bit more breath from Landon’s lungs and Toxxic manages to squirm his head free even before Kivell can tell Landon to break the hold; that doesn’t stop the straight-edger from rearing up and nailing Maddix with a European uppercut though! *WHAM!* The shot causes Landon to slump back in the corner, but only for a moment - as Kivell admonishes Toxxic for his unsportsmanlike conduct (and this is while sharing a ring with a man who wears a ‘Cheat 2 Win’ shirt, mind you) Landon comes blazing out, firing of a series of forearm smashes to the side of the startled straight-edger’s head! With Toxxic staggered Landon leaps up to hit a Dropsault but Toxxic reacts in time and catches Maddix’s feet on the way up, then literally throws La Cucaracha down to the mat. Maddix lands hard and not in the way he was expecting, allowing Toxxic to take advantage and dive on top of him to apply a side headlock. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “You know, I never thought I’d see Toxxic take a page out of Grappler’s book,” LDP comments as the Brit tightens his grip, apparently trying to make Landon’s forehead match the red on his wristbands and shorts. “This is just a sound strategy,” King argues. “Toxxic has the double advantage of not only being the champion, but also not having wrestled once this evening already. If he can wear down Landon a bit more he could cakewalk this.” “I’m not saying it wasn’t a sound strategy,” Pete replies. “Good.” “…it’s just boring.” Landon is struggling but can’t at the moment seem to break the Straight-Edge Sensation’s grip. Toxxic is lying across Maddix’s chest, but after twenty seconds or so the Brit apparently decides that he wants a change of scenery and begins to stand, Landon in tow. However, before Maddix can take advantage of his new situation Toxxic pops his hips and takes his opponent over again, knocking the breath from Maddix and tightening his hold once more as he lands. “Ever since that bull-rush into the corner, Toxxic seems to have been trying to deny Maddix oxygen,” Pete comments as Landon claws at his opponent’s arms with his fingers, but to no avail. “You have to believe that the challenger’s midsection took some damage in that match with Austin Sly, a man renowned for targeting that area of the body - Toxxic here is doing what he can to build on that while still following his normal gameplan of working the head.” “If you can’t breathe, you can’t fight,” King asserts. “That’s why the chokeout is a thing of such beauty.” Landon’s breath does seem to be coming rather fitfully now as the ICTV Champion struggles against his opponent’s grip. Deciding that his slightly uncharacteristic strategy appears to be working, Toxxic starts to clamber back to his feet once more, then quickly rolls his hips again to take Landon down to the mat one more time. This time both of Maddix’s shoulders make contact with the ring, and Matthew Kivell dives down to make a count… ONE! TW- -but Landon realises his predicament and rolls his shoulder up again to break the pin. Realising that he might be onto something here, Toxxic squeezes tighter and leans back, trying to force Landon down for another pin… and succeeds! ONE! TW- -but Landon reaches up and, with Toxxic’s weight having shifted, is now able to roll the Straight-Edge Sensation right over into a pin of his own! ONE! TW- -Toxxic isn’t going to be caught that easily though, and the Brit manages to push himself back over whilst still retaining the headlock. Now however his position is slightly different, and with nothing to lose Landon reaches up with his legs and manages to snare Toxxic in a headscissors, literally pulling him off to break the hold! “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” As Landon manages his first easy breath for a couple of minutes, Toxxic is already trying to fight his way out of the headscissors. First the Straight-Edge Sensation tries to kip up, but Landon’s legs have got him locked so tight that it does nothing more than make him look a bit stupid. With that option out of the way Toxxic starts to twist his body round until his head is pointing straight down to the mat and the back of his neck is towards Landon, who by now has come up into a sitting position. Pushing his weight forwards, Toxxic manages a headstand as Landon looks on, prepared for the Brit to fall forwards into a pin attempt… but just as against Sacred, Toxxic abruptly pops backwards and this time manages to jerk his head free, then launches his feet forwards in an instantaneous basement dropkick- *smak!* -that Landon blocks with his hands! La Cucaracha’s palms are evidently stinging but he managed to avoid getting kicked in the head, and as Toxxic tries to roll to his feet Maddix reaches out and calmly jabs a finger into his opponent’s eye! “Why you little-” King begins before being cut off by a heavy Longdogger boot on his toe. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic has been stopped short and is on his knees clawing at his face, eyeliner running down his cheek as his eye waters ferociously. Landon sees his opportunity and get to his feet, then hits the far ropes and comes back to somersault over his opponent’s head from behind, reaching out as he does so to take Toxxic down with the Throwback! *BANG!* The force of the impact causes Toxxic to bounce off the canvas slightly, but Landon is more than ready for him and dives over the straight-edger’s shoulder to snare him with an Oklahoma roll and take him down for- ONE! TWO!! -but no more, as Toxxic kicks out! Landon is determined to stay on top of the World Champion though - literally, as he reaches over Toxxic’s back with his right arm to try and lock in the Land of Nod! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic is a bit dazed, but not yet dazed enough to allow this deadly submission move to be locked in on him. The straight-edger grabs Landon’s right arm with his own before Maddix can properly cinch back on the move and fights, then begins ramming elbows into his opponent’s chest with his other arm. With his breathing being interrupted again Landon’s grip loosens and Toxxic is able to use his superior strength to pry the right arm completely free, then takes advantage of the fact that Landon has not yet managed to straddle him by slipping free and coming up with an armwringer applied. The pressure on the limb is enough to keep Landon on all fours as Toxxic makes his way back up to his feet, but then the straight-edger screws himself through the air, wrenching the arm in its socket and causing Landon’s face to bounce off the mat. Toxxic still has a hold of him however, and the World Champion stands back up with Landon still a captive before hauling Maddix to his feet via the arm. Maddix tries to pull free but Toxxic kicks the limb a couple of times to put paid to that notion, then runs for the nearest turnbuckles. Landon can do nothing but follow as Toxxic quickly ascends to the top rope, then jumps off and traps Landon’s arm underneath his leg as he plummets down… *WHAM!* …delivering an armwringer legdrop to the unfortunate challenger! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Toxxic seems to have switched targets to that right arm,” Pete notes as the Straight-Edge Sensations stands again, still with Landon’s arm in his grasp. “He appeared to be having some success with limiting Landon’s breathing, but-” “-it’s a case of priority,” King cuts in. “Toxxic needs to nullify the Land of Nod, and the best way to do that is take out Landon’s strongest arm. Plus Toxxic has to make Landon submit at some point to win this match, and weakening the arm for the Repeat to Fade is a good, sound strategy.” Toxxic seems to agree - with Landon back on his feet he pauses to add an extra revolution to the armwringer before running for the turnbuckles again. This time however he simply drops all the way down to the floor of the Sun Devil Stadium, guillotining Landon’s arm across the taut top rope! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Landon reels away, clutching the injured limb close to his chest and cursing viciously. The challenger has more important worries however, as Toxxic hops back up to the apron and measures him, then leaps to the top rope… …Landon turns around and leaps into the air, looking for a defensive dropkick… …but Toxxic was merely feinting, and lands lightly on the canvas as Maddix crashes and burns! The straight-edger laughs as Landon tries to stagger up, coughing as yet more air is knocked from his lungs, then charges in. This time however, Landon times it right. “The Bottom Drops Out!” Pete shouts as Maddix expertly sidesteps the charging World Champion and hooks him into a reverse DDT-style backbreaker, injured arm and all. “…and he’s not done yet! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” As Jet watches in horror, Landon keeps hold of his reverse headlock and turns Toxxic over, sitting down on the World Champion’s back in the Land of Nod! The pain on Maddix’s face is intense as he desperately tries to hold on with his right arm, even reaching down to hook the wrist with his left hand in an effort to give himself some more leverage. But the pain on Toxxic’s face looks to be just as bad. “YOU GOTTA TAP!” “YOU GOTTA TAP!” The Straight-Edge Sensation desperately reaches out for the ropes, but Maddix has him trapped in the centre of the ring. He tries reaching back to pull Maddix off him, but Landon just leans back as far as he can and clutches his own wrist for all he’s worth. There is no way out for the World Champion, and with the knowledge that this won’t lose him the match he makes the only call he can… *TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP!* *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Notably, instead of holding on for as long as possible Landon releases his grip the moment the bell goes, massaging his right arm with his left hand and allowing the straight-edger to roll free. Despite the pain Landon’s glee is clear to see as he salutes the cheering crowd, but only bitter disappointment shows in the face of Toxxic. “Toxxic doesn’t seem happy, but he made a good decision there,” Pete notes as Jet tries to comfort her boyfriend. “If he had held on for too long the Land of Nod could have knocked him straight out, and Landon would have had a submission and a ten-count in his favour!” Landon isn’t content to rest on his laurels, however; before Kivell has even signalled for the restart bell the ICTV Champion has pounced and begins to deliver stomps to the back of Toxxic’s head. The referee tries to admonish him but then realises that he’s not getting anywhere - unlike Landon, who has already driving Toxxic back down to the mat. “Look at Landon Maddix, doing everything he can to devalue this belt!” King snaps as Maddix finally desists his stomping and protests his innocence to Kivell. “You know the motto of Martial Law; whatever it takes,” Pete replies. Maddix backs off to the ropes, then jogs forward and delivers a crushing kneedrop to the forehead of his opponent before rolling through and coming up to one knee, arms spread wide in his signature pose for the crowd. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “Well, Landon is still focusing on the head,” Pete notes. “I can only assume that he wants to make sure that either another Land of Nod attempt or the Crash Landon can put Toxxic down.” “So why not go for another Land of Nod right now?” King asks quietly, just in case Maddix can hear him. “It worked once.” “Didn’t you see how Landon was favouring that arm?” Pete asks. “I think he wants to give it a bit of time before he tries applying that hold again, but a bit of head work in the meantime can’t hurt his cause any!” Toxxic is holding his head but starting to come up onto all fours and Landon backs off to the corner, looks around to make sure the crowd are ready, and- *BANG!* “Oh dear Lord, not this again,” King bemoans as Landon’s boot crashes into the canvas. *BANG!* “Yes folks, it’s time for some Sweet Cuca Music!” Pete says excitedly as the entire Sun Devil Stadium (bar Jet, Toxxic and King) joins in on the second go. *BANG!* Toxxic struggles up, one hand still clutching his forehead from where Landon’s kneedrop caught him. *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* As Toxxic reaches a vertical base Landon comes out of the corner in his run-up, but Toxxic sees him coming and ducks! At the last moment though, Landon changes his momentum and instead of firing off with a superkick he jumps into the air and sails over the World Champion, hitting him with a Mushroom Stomp to the shoulders as he does so! Toxxic ends up flat on his face again as Landon plays to the crowd, spreading his arms wide again… “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …but Toxxic isn’t staying down for long this time, and the Straight-Edge Sensation does not appreciate being embarrassed. Landon turns around to find a furious Toxxic bearing down on him, and can’t block the- *WHAM!* -European uppercut that crashes into his jaw! *WHAM!* *WHAM!* Or the next two, come to that. *CRUNCH!* -and especially not the headbutt that staggers him back into the ropes! Toxxic pauses for a moment to shake off the effects of his own move - that kneedrop hurt, after all - then grabs Landon’s right arm and Irish whips La Cucaracha across the ring. However, Landon manages to reverse the momentum despite the pain in his arm and send Toxxic into the far cables instead, then sidesteps the onrushing straight-edger and hooks both hands around his forehead from behind as he goes for the So-Dak Moment… …but Toxxic grabs his hands and pulls them away from his head, then twists around to face Landon, crossing his opponent’s arms over as he does so! Landon struggles but Toxxic pulls him in- *CRUNCH!* -and delivers another headbutt, then continues twisting around so that he has Landon in a neckbreaker position but with Maddix’s own arms wrapped across his throat in a goku-raku-like hold! Without waiting for Landon to try and wriggle free of this one Toxxic kicks his legs out and drops down to the mat in a neckbreaker, but still doesn’t release his grip. Instead he rolls over onto his front, maintaining the cross-armed choke on Landon… then flips forward into a bridge and applies an Inverted Goku-Raku Clutch on the ICTV Champion! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “What a move!” King applauds as Kivell drops down to check on the red-faced Maddix. “That has to be the result of training for the past week with Scott Pretzler, the master of the Snowflake Clutch!” Toxxic has a tight grin on his face as he pulls as hard as he can on the move, but his flashy version has one weakness that Pretzler’s does not - it’s very hard to keep a bridge for a long period of time, especially when your neck has already been worked on by the Land of Nod. Toxxic manages to hold on for about ten seconds, then is forced to release. Landon can’t take advantage of the respite however as he’s too busy trying to force oxygen back into his lungs, and Toxxic makes sure to keep the pressure on by trapping Landon’s legs with his own, then leaning backwards to grab his opponent with an inverted rear chinlock. So that he doesn’t have to bridge again Toxxic rolls over into his stomach, leaving Landon tied up and wriggling in the air! “-and that seems to be a version of the Sickle Hold that Sacred used on Toxxic in Hanover,” Pete notes with some surprise. “Toxxic is using moves from a variety of influences in his attempt to even up the score with Landon Maddix here!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Landon’s flailing arms can get no purchase on the air around him, but after a few seconds’ struggling he focuses his thoughts enough to reach back and grab at the hands locked around his chin and neck. Toxxic does his best to keep his grip applied but desperation lends an extra strength to Maddix, and the ICTV Champion succeeds in breaking the grasp and flopping forwards. Undeterred, Toxxic pushes himself back up and turns around, then starts trying to rearrange Landon’s legs as he faces the same way as his opponent this time… “He’s going for the Regal Stretch! Landon’s tapped to this before!” King shouts as Toxxic tries to fight Maddix into the new hold, but Landon is having none of it and kicks out viciously to get free and then rolls onto his back to prevent Toxxic from applying the feared submisson move. Almost before Landon has come to rest though, Toxxic grabs each leg behind the knee and bridges forward into a jacknife pin… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “What? No!” Pete shouts, but King is beside himself. “Brilliant!” the Gambling Man crows as Toxxic rolls off Landon, grinning lopsidedly at his opponent. “Landon was so concerned with avoiding the Regal Stretch that he forgot the first rule of wrestling - stay off your back!” Landon gets back up to one knee and glares at Toxxic who is clearly laughing at him. Frustrated, La Cucaracha surges up and forwards, aiming a Shining Wizard at the head of his opponent - but Toxxic simply ducks backwards and rolls under the bottom rope to the arena floor, still smirking. Landon yells at Toxxic to get back in the ring but the Straight-Edge Sensation ignores him for the moment, instead pausing to exchange a few choice words with a fan giving him some abuse and waving beer at him. The fan continues to heckle and Toxxic argues for a few more seconds, then flips a v-sign at him and turns back to the ring… …but Landon hits the 605 and swings his feet through the ringropes into Toxxic’s jaw! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic staggers back almost onto the entrance ramp, clutching his face. With the advantage switched back in his favour Maddix turns and runs to the far ropes, then comes hurtling back across the ring, vaults up to the top rope and goes SAILING out with the Spaceman Plancha… …but this time Toxxic sees him coming, and the World Champion takes a step back and drops to one knee, causing Landon to come crashing down into the mother of all gutbusters! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “Mary, Mother of God!” Pete screams as Landon thrashes around on the floor of the Sun Devil Stadium. “He could have broken a rib! He could be broken in half!” “-you could be sued for copyright infringement, so take it easy,” King advises his over-excited commentary partner, removing the black Stetson that has inexplicably found its way onto the Longdogger’s head. “Mind your own bid’ness, ‘King’.” Toxxic isn’t feeling all that charitable towards his opponent, so despite Kivell’s demands that he return the match to the ring immediately the World Champion seems to feel that a detour is in order. Grabbing the writhing Maddix he hauls him up to what approximates a vertical base, then drags him over to the ring post. Landon is powerless to stop him as Toxxic grabs his right arm, then swings it with all his might- *CRACK!* “Arrrgggghhhh!” Maddix clutches at his arm as it rebounds off the solid steel, but Toxxic grabs it again and shakes Maddix’s protective grasp loose, then swings it one more time- *CRACK!* “Arrrrrgggghhhhh!” The nearby fans are wincing in sympathetic pain as Landon clutches his own arm to his body, but they can’t do anything to prevent Toxxic from rolling his opponent back into the ring and dragging him - by the arm - to a spot more or less in the middle. Toxxic then continues his journey by running to the turnbuckles, vaulting to the top and leaping back off with a flying fistdrop that zeros in on Maddix’s skull! “Toxxic’s going back to work on the head,” Longdogger muses. “Landon’s arm and ribs are his weak points right now, but Toxxic’s one-track gameplan doesn’t allow him to capitalise.” “It’s a case of divide and conquer,” King argues. “Landon’s hurting but he’s a resourceful little wretch, so if Toxxic starts working the head again Maddix won’t be able to figure out a way to overcome his current disadvantage. Then Toxxic can get a quick submission off something and put Landon down for the ten-count.” With Landon still down on the mat Toxxic goes to the turnbuckles once more, vaulting up to come back down with another fistdrop that connects dead centre with his opponent’s forehead… then gets up and repeats the process for a third time! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” The crowd are in full voice and abusing the World Champion again, but Toxxic shows no sign that he cares as he gets up again, shakes his fist out with a rueful smile - it seems Landon has a hard head - and heads off towards a different turnbuckle. The Straight-Edge Sensation needs another angle for what he has planned this time, which is to vault to the top rope, pause for a moment to rile up the fans, then corkscrew backwards to hit the Hangover- *BANG!* -but Landon moves at the last moment! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “Landon’s taken far too much punishment in the past few minutes, but can he turn it around here?” Pete asks as Toxxic tries to struggle up while Landon desperately pulls himself up on the ropes. “He needs to hit something now or it could be over very soon indeed-” -and the Longdogger is cut off as Maddix surges forwards, vaulting off Toxxic’s left knee and nailing the straight-edger with a Shining Wizard! *CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” For a couple of seconds Landon lies on the mat alongside his enemy - then La Cucaracha turns and grabs at Toxxic’s far leg, trying to cover him… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHRRRRRRRRRR- -but Toxxic kicks out, as Landon’s damaged right arm is unable to keep the leg hooked! A frustrated Maddix turns over onto his back and covers again, this time using his left arm to hook the leg… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRR- -but the few extra seconds were enough for Toxxic to gather his wits, and even with the leg hooked he still manages to roll a shoulder off the canvas again! Landon looks pleadingly at Matthew Kivell but the referee has got nothing to offer him, so Landon wearily grabs Toxxic by the head and starts to haul him upright. Toxxic is still dazed from the Wizard but Landon knows he has to keep on him, so Maddix leaps vertically upwards and snares Toxxic with his legs, then flips backwards to take the Straight-Edge Sensation over with a Hurrilanrana. However, Toxxic merely stumbles onto the second rope… “…and it looks like it’s time for Landon to phone home!” Pete shouts as the ICTV Champion gets back to his feet and sees his adversary in the perfect position. “Does Landon have a finger that glows? Does he look like a friendly turd?” King shouts in protest. “Leave the ‘phoning home’ to loveable alien botanists you moron, you’ve got a match to win!” Maddix is ignoring the irate Gambling Man however and gives the fans a ‘6...0...5!’ before hitting the far ropes and rebounding, picking up speed and expertly swinging his body through the ropes… …but Toxxic ducks out of the way at the last second, and Landon ends up on his feet but momentarily disorientated from his momentum! His straight-edge opponent seizes this chance to nail Landon with a sit-out jawbreaker, then as Maddix staggers Toxxic kips up and leaps into the air in one fluid motion to send an enzuigiri crunching into the back of La Cucaracha’s neck! Maddix topples forward, and this time it is him who ends up hanging over the second rope! “I don’t like the looks of this…” Pete mutters as Toxxic gets back to his feet and eyes Landon. “0...1...1...5!” Toxxic shouts, and darts towards the far ropes. “Is that the dialling code for Nottingham?” Pete asks as Toxxic rebounds, heading towards Landon. “I think it very well could be,” King concurs, awaiting the impact… but Toxxic doesn’t swing his body through the ropes; instead he slides under them at the last moment, then delivers a brutal European uppercut to Maddix’s jaw from the arena floor! *WHAM!* Maddix topples back and Toxxic takes a moment to clasp hands with the one, solitary straight-edger at ringside who is wearing a Toxxic shirt. The Brit grins at his lone fan, then climbs back up to the ring apron as Maddix starts to rise to his feet, clearly not quite with it. Toxxic waits for the right moment, then leaps to the top rope and springboards into the ring with a hurricanrana that he rolls through into a pin! … … …but of course, Toxxic already has his pin! The Straight-Edge Sensation doesn’t catch on for a moment as he stares at Kivell, wondering why the referee isn’t counting - then suddenly Landon catches on to what’s going on and he tugs down sharply with his legs, bringing Toxxic’s shoulders back down to the mat! ONE! TWO!! TH- -Toxxic kicks out though, cursing himself for his own stupidity. He tries to charge Maddix and regain the advantage but Landon has managed to get his feet under him and hoists him up into a Fireman’s carry… and proceeds to spin. And spin. “ONE!” “TWO!” And spin. “THREE!” “FOUR!” And SPI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-N… “FIVE!” “SIX!” “SEVEN!” …with the crowd merrily counting along, Landon manages a full twenty seconds of rotation before finally dumping Toxxic down to the mat and then sprawling around the ring looking for all the world like Matty Kivell after a night out with Dagda. However, Landon’s ramblings do bring him into touch with a turnbuckle and he steps through the ropes and starts to climb… “Is this really such a good idea?” Pete asks as the ICTV Champion pauses on the second ropes, swaying alarmingly. “He might fall off and hurt himself, sounds like a good plan to me,” King replies acidly. Landon intends to disappoint his detractor though, as he makes it to the top buckle and then dives off… *WHAM!* …and hits a Swandive headbutt on Toxxic! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Landon’s dizziness means he’s still a little slow into finding the cover though, and it takes several agonising seconds for him to pull himself around so he can hook Toxxic’s leg with his left arm… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHRRRRRRR- -but Toxxic kicks out again! Landon is very unhappy with that count and tells Matthew Kivell so in no uncertain terms. Kivell is no more impressed with babyfaces berating him than he usually is by heels however, and informs Landon of this in equally unambiguous language. Maddix is on his feet by this point and takes advantage of the fact to rake his bootheel over Toxxic’s eye, which Kivell has another go at him for with Landon denying any wrongdoing whatsoever, and he did not inhale. Meanwhile from the ring floor Megan Skye is yelling at Landon to stay on his opponent, advice that Landon takes after a few more seconds of jawjacking with Matty Kivell. Using his healthy left arm Maddix hauls the groggy World Champion up, then hooks him in a front facelock and falls backwards to spike him with a DDT. Toxxic ends up on his back after taking the move, and with a pinfall uppermost in mind Landon starts looking to the skies once more… “The challenger is heading for the turnbuckles again,” Longdogger Pete points out as Landon goes to the corner and begins to climb. “This latest burst of offence from the ICTV Champion has been taking its toll on Toxxic, and one more high-impact move could put Landon back into the lead!” Landon reaches the top rope and pauses for a minute to get his bearings, smiles cheesily in the camera flashes that are going off all around him and then leaps off, pumping his arms and legs as he flies through the air- *CRUNCH!* -only to land on Toxxic’s knees as the World Champion desperately raises his last line of defence! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Landon is on his side in a foetal position, his ribs burning after taking yet another punishing blow. With his opponent down Toxxic manages to get up to all fours, then grabs the unresisting Landon’s right arm and brings him to his feet before falling backwards again in a one-arm DDT! The jarring to his injured limb merely causes Landon to yelp in pain once more, and Toxxic has a second to catch his breath before twisting it around into a hammerlock and then pulling Landon up to a kneeling position… “Here it comes,” King shouts excitedly, “straight-edge is about to go 2-1 up on cockroach!” Sure enough, Toxxic reaches forward and applies a Dragon sleeper with his left arm, then grabs Landon’s hammerlocked right wrist with his left hand to lock the move in and wraps his legs around his opponent’s midsection, trapping Maddix’s left arm at his side! The Straight-Edge Sensation slumps back to the canvas with Landon on top of him but his shoulders aren’t down to the mat, and with his arms trapped, his legs twisted under him, the blood and oxygen to his brain being stopped and Toxxic’s legs squeezing his damaged ribs yet further, La Cucaracha has nowhere to go. “PLEASE DON’T TAP!” “PLEASE DON’T TAP!” Referee Matthew Kivell hunkers down to check on Landon Maddix, but doesn’t give anything yet - it seems the ICTV Champion is holding on. “PLEASE DON’T TAP!” “I hate to disagree with our fans, but I think Landon needs to tap!” Pete says earnestly. “If Toxxic can knock him out with the Repeat To Fade then Landon could lose the match right here.” “Come on Landon, fight it!” King shouts, gleefully trying to fool the challenger into losing himself the match. “PLEASE DON’T TAP!” Kivell is still checking, but the referee’s job is not an easy one. Landon doesn’t have any free arms to tap with, his legs are trapped under him and the challenger can’t even speak to answer him with the Dragon sleeper applied. Toxxic seems content to keep squeezing until Landon goes limp, but as Kivell asks and asks again he seems to detect a nod, or some desperate eye movement… *DING-DING-DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chuck Woolery 0 Report post Posted March 7, 2005 “That’s it,” Pete declares as Toxxic unwillingly loosens his grip at Kivell’s order, “Toxxic has gone from one down to leading 2-1, but his hardest job is yet to come; he now has to keep The Cockroach down for a ten-count!” “-but Landon has to pin Toxxic and keep him down for a ten-count,” King points out. “What’s more, Toxxic can start right now…” Kivell has enforced the break and checked Toxxic is well clear of his opponent - the Straight-Edge Sensation is happy to sit in the corner, recovering from Landon’s offence and the exertion he went through to get that last fall - then signals for the restart. Maddix is still down however, having seemingly come close to unconsciousness during the Repeat To Fade, so Kivell begins his count. ‘ONE!’ Megan Skye looks anxious at ringside; Landon is a long way from being counted out and losing the match, but he still has a lot to do and Toxxic is in a better position. ‘TWO!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” ‘THREE!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” ‘FOUR!’ Now Landon begins to stir, and the crowd chant break down into a less organised mess of shouts of encouragement and clapping. It’s plain that Tempe, Arizona wants Landon to get up and take the World Title from Toxxic. ‘FIVE!’ Landon reaches all fours… and suddenly drops back down again, causing Megan to shriek in alarm. ‘SIX!’ Toxxic rises out of his corner, curiosity showing in his face… until Landon rolls over onto his back and puts his hands behind his head! ‘SEVEN!’ Kivell has to laugh as Maddix takes full advantage of the ten-count, but even this respite is nearing an end. ‘EIGHT!’ …besides which, Toxxic isn’t hanging around to play this game. The straight-edger runs forward and feints an elbow drop which Landon rolls to his feet to avoid, but Toxxic is waiting for him and- *WHAM!* -fires another European uppercut into Landon’s jaw to stagger La Cucaracha and nearly knock him back down for real! Maddix fights back though, using his left arm to chop away at his opponent… *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” …but the left-armed blows just don’t have as much force behind them, and Toxxic shrugs them off to hit back with a RIGHT… LEFT… RIGHT… LEFT… Windup… DISCUS CLOTHESLINE… that Maddix ducks! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic staggers around in a circle, unbalanced by his own move, and as he stumbles back to face his opponent Maddix wraps his arms around Toxxic’s neck and shoulder - taking care even in this moment to grab his right wrist with his left hand to minimise the stress on the injured arm - and drops backwards to take Toxxic down with the Complete Shot! *BANG!* “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Maddix pushes Toxxic over onto his back and reaches across his opponent’s body for the far leg, using his left arm to hook it as he rolls into the cover… ONE! TWO!! THHHRRR- -but Toxxic kicks out, whether through Landon not being able to get enough pressure with his left arm or simply through not having taken enough damage. Maddix is clearly furious at the referee, but Kivell has already shown his refusal to be swayed by arguments and with Megan Skye pounding the canvas to let her client know that he should really be focusing here Landon isn’t going to jawjack for too long. Instead the Dakotan grabs Toxxic and slowly pulls him upright, then hooks him into a reverse headlock and instantly whips his left arm around to put the Straight-Edge Sensation back down with a slightly sloppy Landon Eye! *BANG!* Landon doesn’t cover this time - instead the ICTV Champion looks to the turnbuckle again and heads over, starting to climb… “The last time Landon went up top it didn’t pay off at all,” Pete muses, “but maybe he’s going to be able to keep Toxxic down this time!” “But did you see that Landon Eye?” King asks eagerly. “He could barely hold Toxxic up with his right arm; Dogger, I think the Land of Nod is out of the question now, so Landon’s going to have to just wear Toxxic down with impact moves, not try for a knockout submission!” Maddix pauses for a moment on the top rope - not to smile for the fans this time, but instead to take a good hard look at Toxxic and make sure that the straight-edger isn’t going to pull any nasty surprises this time around. Apparently satisfied, Landon coils his legs under him and leaps off… *WHAM!* …and succeeds in driving a left-armed Picture Perfect Elbow into the Brit’s chest! Matthew Kivell drops to make a count but Landon pops back up to his feet again and ignores the referee, instead heading for the corner of the ring where he grabs the top rope, raises his boot and- *BANG!* “Just stop it!” King shouts, but to no avail. *BANG!* “Come on King, you’ve got to love this!” Pete shouts back as the Sun Devil Stadium starts stomping in time with La Cucaracha. *BANG!* “Make me,” the Gambling Man spits, covering his ears. *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* Toxxic has slowly staggered to his feet and Landon has him in his sights. Of course, even having taken a few shots Toxxic can hear the stamping, but with the entire stadium participating he can’t pick out the direction of Landon’s boot until too late… *SMACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Sweet Cuca Music!” Pete shouts as all of Tempe, Arizona seems to erupt when Landon’s boot connects with Toxxic’s jaw. “Landon Maddix could pull back level here!” …but Landon, having given a cocky strut in the immediate aftermath of the move, ignores his downed opponent and heads to the opposite corner of the ring where he grabs the top rope, raises his boot and- *BANG!* “What is this, Groundhog Day!?” King screams as Maddix begins to wind up again. “You’ve already inflicted this on me twice so far!” *BANG!* “Well King, it looks like Landon’s on a roll,” Pete explains. “Besides, as you pointed out, he has to just wear Toxxic down - maybe he can get a pin and the ten-count in one go!” *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* Toxxic is back up again, swaying on the spot. Landon comes in again, twists sideways and lashes out with his boot… *whap* …but Toxxic saw him coming this time, and the straight-edger’s reflexes were up to the task of intercepting Maddix’s foot before it made contact with his face. For a moment the shocked Landon just stares into black-rimmed, steel grey eyes. Then Toxxic swings the boot away, spinning Landon on his heel… and ducks down to take Maddix up onto his shoulders. “NO!” Pete shouts desperately as the Sun Devil Stadium, holds it’s breath. “Not this!” …but although Toxxic has got Landon in position for the Dangerlust, the effort of hoisting Landon up has hurt the straight-edger’s neck that Landon has been gradually working on all match. Toxxic has to take a moment to gather himself before reaching up to apply the cradle for the move, and in that moment Landon Maddix reacts by snapping backwards like Sacred did in Hanover, New Hampshire, and spiking Toxxic on his head with a reverse hurricanrana! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Before Toxxic’s body has even had time to slump to the mat Landon leans back into a Mexican Bridge pin, stacking as much weight as possible onto his opponent’s shoulders… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “Both men are equal, and we’re into the home stretch here!” Pete shouts as the atmosphere in the Sun Devil Stadium really starts to heat up. “It’s basically a Last Man Standing match from here on in-” “-with the important difference that weapons are not legal!” King interjects. “These two men can only rely on their own bodies!” Both men have had the requisite rest period and Kivell signals for the restart bell. Instantly the triumphant Maddix pounces on Toxxic and tries to hook a Dragon sleeper in on the woozy straight-edger, looking for the Land of Nod to try and put him down fast… but even in his dazed state Toxxic realises what’s going on and fights back, and Landon’s right arm just is not in any condition to apply the move with any kind of force! Maddix grits his teeth and tries his best but to no avail, and with the adrenaline burst washing away the cobwebs Toxxic suddenly counterattacks by wrenching Landon’s right arm away from his throat and squirming out from underneath the challenger, applying a hammerlock and dragging Maddix to his feet in an attempt to get enough reach to lock his own Dragon sleeper in and go for the Repeat To Fade again! Maddix twists desperately, turning himself over into a front facelock but escaping the potentially disastrous submission move that has already proved inescapable once tonight. Toxxic is momentarily caught off guard by this and Landon braces his feet against the canvas and hoists up with all his might, using his free arm for extra leverage… *WHAM!* “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “Landon Maddix just gave Toxxic a Northern Lights Suplex into the turnbuckles!” LDP gasps as the straight-edger hits backfirst and then drops into an uncomfortable landing. “Surely intended as a defensive move, that could have won Landon the match right there!” “Come on Toxxic, get up,” King shouts, “don’t let this teeny-bopper take your title again!” Matty Kivell winced as Toxxic made contact with the pads, but raises his arm as Landon pushes himself wearily off the mat and begins his count. ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ Jet has rushed to the corner of the ring where her boyfriend lies crumpled and is speaking urgently to him. After a couple of seconds the dreadlocked beauty’s face clears and she steps back as Toxxic rolls over onto his front and starts to try and push himself up. ‘FOUR!’ Landon Maddix is back up as well, massaging his right arm and trying to work out how best to take his opponent down. Toxxic grabs the second rope and hauls himself upright but misjudges his own momentum slightly and staggers forwards; this is all the opening Landon needs and he takes advantage of the straight-edger’s unsteadiness by taking him down with a drop toehold and straddling his back. “You’ve seen the Land of Nod won’t work anymore!” King shouts… but Landon has other ideas. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “He’s using the left arm!” Pete exclaims. “But can Landon get it locked in…?” Maddix does seem to be encountering some difficulties, certainly; the move that he can apply without thinking with his right arm seems trickier using his weaker left, and as he desperately tries to get a good grip around Toxxic’s neck he realises to his horror that the straight-edger is up to countering this attempt as well… “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Toxxic wrenches Landon’s arm loose and uses it to drive Maddix facedown into the canvas, then wriggles out from under his opponent and grabs Landon’s legs. Moments later, as Toxxic starts to try and hook La Cucaracha’s legs together, the Sun Devil Stadium catches on. “He’s going for the Regal Stretch again,” Pete observes as Megan screams at Landon to get the hell out of there, “and don’t forget that this move made Johnny Dangerous pass out at Genesis V! Landon could go down for the count here!” “Please, please, please…” King prays. Landon doesn’t need Megan’s advice to know that this is bad news, however; the ICTV Champion claws at the canvas for all he’s worth and kicks with his legs to try and throw Toxxic off. For a moment it seems that the Straight-Edge Sensation has his opponent trapped, but then one of Landon’s thrashing legs catches him on the jaw and Toxxic topples backwards. Maddix scurries forwards to break the Brit’s last grip on his ankle and clutches onto the ropes, breathing heavily as his heart rate slowly calms. Toxxic isn’t letting him go that easily however, and having shaken his head to dispel the faint dizziness he rises to his feet and advances on his opponent. Landon turns his head as he feels the ring move under Toxxic’s footsteps, quickly sizes up where Matthew Kivell is and his likely line of sight… *CHING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Cheat!” King screams, standing bolt upright and pointing an accusatory finger at La Cucaracha. “Blatant, blatant low blow!” “Blatant low headbutt actually,” Longdogger Pete corrects the Gambling Man as Toxxic doubles over clutching his happy-happy-joy-joy area. “One of the Straight-Edge Sensation’s favourite moves has been used against him, albeit in a rather less legal way.” Matthew Kivell is suspicious. Very suspicious. But as a SWF referee he can’t call what he didn’t see, and he didn’t actually see Landon assault Toxxic below the belt as the straight-edger’s body blocked him off. Reluctantly he waves for the match to continue, and Landon obliges by getting to his feet and charging the incapacitated Toxxic, sending his right knee into his opponent’s jaw with his second Shining Wizard of the match! *CRACK!* Toxxic slumps backwards to the canvas with barely a sign of life to give his girlfriend hope. Jet is screaming blue murder anyway about the headbutt despite Kivell’s best efforts to ignore her, but she can do nothing as the referee begins his count. ‘ONE!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” ‘TWO!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” ‘THREE!’ “I hope Landon Maddix is happy,” Suicide King says with disgust as he watches the young man from South Dakota lean on the ropes and soak in the cheers of the fans. “With his cheating ways and atrocious attitude he is really bringing down the status of this, the most prestigious title in wrestling today.” ‘FOUR!’ “Y’know, I seem to remember you cheating your ass off when you were active,” Longdogger Pete says mildly. ‘FIVE!’ “I’m me. Landon Maddix is not me,” King says, as if talking to a simpleton. “That says it all.” ‘SIX!’ Toxxic is moving though, much to Landon’s dismay. Maddix can only watch as the Straight-Edge Sensation starts to push himself up, holding back for a second in the hope that maybe Toxxic will give up and collapse again… ‘SEVE-’ …but Toxxic is up; dazed, but up. Landon is visibly upset by this and actually kicks the turnbuckles several times until Megan, again providing the voice of reason for her client, persuades him to stay on his opponent. “Landon Maddix would be lost without Megan Skye,” King states flatly as La Cucaracha strides forwards, grabs Toxxic’s hair and begins to haul the straight-edger towards the corner. “That’s as maybe, but it looks like it’s time for the Crash Landon!” Pete cuts in as Maddix hops up to the second buckle and takes hold of Toxxic’s right arm. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” -but Toxxic’s left arm is still free, and the British punk desperately starts firing closed fists into Landon’s ribs. Maddix tries to shake them off but it’s no good; his ribs are still in bad condition and the blows are knocking the wind out of him. His grip on Toxxic’s right arm relaxes and the straight-edger pulls himself free… then fires a right hand into Landon’s jaw, causing the ICTV Champion to sway unsteadily, before starting to pull himself up and taking Maddix into a front facelock. “He’s looking for the avalanche Caffeine Bomb!” King yells in delight. “This beat Tom Flesher!” Landon Maddix knows he’s in trouble and reaches up with his left hand, fighting past Toxxic’s shoulder to dig his fingers deep into the straight-edger’s face. Toxxic yells in pain, and now it is his turn to involuntarily release his hold. Landon seizes his opportunity and pushes the Brit with all his might, causing him to fall back off the turnbuckle to the mat. [/i][/i]*BANG!*[/i][/i] “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Kivell raises his hands to begin the count but Toxxic is already forcing himself up, determined not to let Landon set himself. Unfortunately for the straight-edger the match has taken its toll on even his excellent conditioning, and as he reaches a vertical base he realises that Maddix is already waiting for him. The ICTV Champion leaps off the second rope straight at his opponent- *SMACK!* -and Toxxic, reacting on instinct, dropkicks him out of the air! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “I think Landon was going for the Crash Landon ‘04 there, but Toxxic managed to catch him in mid-flight,” Longdogger Pete says as the two men fall to the canvas and Kivell steps forward, ready to start counting. “The first man to his feet could easily win the match here…” ‘ONE!’ It’s hard for Toxxic to push himself back up even when it was he who delivered the last move. Landon took the dropkick right in the chest but La Cucaracha is notoriously hard to squash, and he is also stirring. ‘TWO!’ Toxxic is just up first and grabs Landon by his right arm when Maddix follows. Landon seems unable to resist as the Straight-Edge Sensation Irish whips him towards the far corner of the ring, but halfway through the motion Landon wraps his left hand around Toxxic’s wrist and swings to send the Brit into the turnbuckles instead. What Landon hadn’t counted on was Toxxic being able to run up the turnbuckles when he reaches them, then leaping back off with the Role Reversal… but Landon hits the deck and Toxxic sails harmlessly overhead! At the last moment before impact Toxxic tucks his head in and manages to roll through the move, comes back up to his feet and runs straight on for the corner in which the pair originally started. A confused Landon makes it to his feet, turns around to see where his opponent has got to… and Toxxic leaps back off his new turnbuckle, twisting in midair to nail Maddix with the corkscrew dropkick! ‘ONE!’ Kivell’s count begins again as both men lie on their backs, apparently exhausted. That last burst of energy looks like it might have used up the straight-edger’s reserve tank, and Landon is not in a good way. ‘TWO!’ “Both these men are so tough,” Pete says admiringly as Toxxic and Landon both start to stir. “They’ve been hitting each other with everything they have, and they’re still getting up!” ‘THREE!’ “It’s Toxxic who’s been getting the better of the last exchanges though,” King points out, “if he can keep this up then I’m not sure if Landon will last much longer!” ‘FOUR!’ Toxxic is on all fours now, and he looks up to see that Maddix is not staying down either. The straight-edger’s eyes narrow and he lurches upright, staggering a moment before reaching down to underhook both of Landon’s arms and haul him up to a standing head scissors. The World Champion takes a deep breath, then hoists Maddix UP… …AROUND… …AND… …DOWN! *BANG!* “Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” Pete shouts in dismay as Landon’s face hits the mat. “Landon Maddix has fought long and hard, but surely that will do the job?” ‘ONE!’ Toxxic rolls over onto his back and looks up at the lights above him. ‘TWO!’ Jet is pounding on the ring and yelling for him to get to his feet, but Toxxic knows there’s no hurry. As long as he’s up before 10, he will win this match. ‘THREE!’ After all, there’s no way Landon can get up from this, is there? ‘FOUR!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” A sinking sensation creeps into Toxxic’s stomach as the crowd starts chanting. Why should they be chanting, with their hero facedown and non-moving? ‘FIVE!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic turns his head to look for Maddix… and sees the ICTV Champion has braced his hands underneath him and is starting to push. Slowly the arms tremble, but take his weight. ‘SIX!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic is so caught up in watching his opponent that it takes him a moment to realise that he is still on his back. With a grunt of effort the Brit sits up, then turns over to give himself the support he needs to rise. Landon isn’t that far behind though. ‘SEVEN!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic makes it to his feet, but Landon is to one knee. A thin trickle of blood is coming from La Cucaracha’s nose, but the young Dakotan is able to stare Toxxic in the eye, shake his head… and stand. ‘EIIIGGG…’ “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “FUCK HIM UP LAN-DON, FUCK HIM UP!” *clap-clap* “FUCK HIM UP LAN-DON, FUCK HIM UP!” *clap-clap* “Can you believe this?” Pete asks incredulously as the two men just stare at each other for a second, Landon still struggling to remain upright and Toxxic apparently too shocked to move. “After everything that’s happened, after everything Toxxic has done to him, Landon Maddix is still fighting!” “He’s out on his feet!” King argues, seemingly trying to make it true through the volume of his voice. “One more shot and he’ll go down! He will, I’m telling you!” Landon lurches unsteadily to one side and the spell is broken; Toxxic steps in and lashes out with his right boot, burying it deep in the midsection of his opponent. Landon doubles over wheezing and Toxxic hooks him into a front facelock, then raises an imaginary can in his left hand and takes a swing. The crowd holds its collective breath, knowing that the Straight-Edge Sensation is trying for the Caffeine Bomb… but Landon knows it too, and he fires left-handed punches into Toxxic’s ribs in an attempt to break his opponent’s grip! Toxxic winces as the blows strike him but wrenches his hold tighter, preparing to reach down and hook Landon’s leg. Finally, desperately, Landon reaches up again with his left hand and rakes at Toxxic’s face, this time finding the eyes and causing the Brit to release him! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Matthew Kivell yells at Landon but the ICTV Champion doesn’t hear him, instead taking advantage of his opponent’s disorientation by grabbing Toxxic’s wrist and whipping him into the ropes. Landon ducks his head as the straight-edger rebounds, looking for a back bodydrop, but Toxxic kills his momentum at the last moment and nails Maddix with a facecrusher onto his knee- *CRUNCH!* -before taking him into a front facelock. However, instead of DDTing his opponent to complete the Sobering Thought Toxxic fires off a knee to the gut! The breath is blasted from Maddix’s lungs but Toxxic isn’t finished - he lets rip with one, two, three more to kill any resistance, then reaches down and hooks Landon’s leg, brings La Cucaracha up… …and drops him on his head with the Caffeine Bomb! *WHAM!* “Caffine Bomb!” King shouts, then settles back into his seat. “I’m telling you Dogger, it’s over. No-one gets up from the Caffeine Bomb.” ‘ONE!’ “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Only Annie Onita has ever kicked out of the Caffeine Bomb, I’ll grant you,” LDP agrees tensely, “but Toxxic isn’t pinning Landon here.” ‘TWO!’ “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Has Landon Maddix got enough left to get up from this? I don’t know,” Pete continues, “but it’s very unwise to write out the leader of Martial Law before the final bell rings!” ‘THREE!’ Toxxic has had to crawl to the ropes to get enough support to pull himself up. Jet is there, speaking urgently to him. ‘FOUR!’ Toxxic waves his girlfriend’s words away; he knows he’s won this now. Not even Megan Skye screaming and pounding the ring apron can get Maddix up. ‘FIVE!’ Still, there’s no harm in watching his opponent’s defeat. Wearily, Toxxic turns his head to look for Landon Maddix. ‘SIX!’ There he is, lying in the middle of the ring, on his front. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Wait a minute. On his front? They end up on their back after the Caffeine Bomb, it’s got that pinning cradle at the end… ‘SEVEN!’ “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Landon’s arms tense. Weakly at first, La Cucaracha starts to push himself off the canvas. And the reaction inside the Sun Devil Stadium is unreal. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” ‘EIGHT!’ Toxxic cannot believe it. The Straight-Edge Sensation simply looks on in total, utter bewilderment as Landon Maddix gets to one knee. ‘NINE…’ Maddix doesn’t stare Toxxic in the eye this time. He doesn’t shake his head. The time for showmanship is over - all Landon has to do to prove his heart is to get to his feet. ‘TEEEE…’ And he does so. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “Is this kid human!?” Pete shouts. “I said not to write him off, but I’m not sure even I believed Landon Maddix could get up from that!” “I want him tested!” King snaps. “Anabolics, Angel Dust… he’s got to be on something! With complete and utter exasperation on his face, Toxxic staggers forwards. He’s hit Landon as hard as he can, he’s dropped on him from the sky, he’s picked him up and dumped him down again and the challenger still keeps getting up… and now Toxxic realises that he’s unsure what else he can try. His last resort, the feared Dangerlust, has already been countered once - if Landon were to manage it again that would win him the match, no question. Running on autopilot he reaches out to grab his opponent… and Landon slips to one side, then takes hold of Toxxic’s arm and Irish whips him into the turnbuckles! “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Toxxic doesn’t have the energy or the wherewithal to run up to the top buckle this time - the straight-edger crashes in backfirst and slumps there, seemingly exhausted. Landon Maddix takes a moment to look around at the crowd, then runs forward and lumbers more than leaps into the air. For a moment it looks like the flying avalanche is going to connect, but at the last moment Toxxic half-dodges, half-falls to one side and evades his opponent. The straight-edger stumbles away, then turns around to look for Landon… only to see Maddix perched on the second buckle facing out into the crowd, where he managed to catch himself in time. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” A grin creeps onto Maddix’s face. He knows he has to time this just right. He perches there for one more moment, then gives the anxious Megan a cocky wink and launches himself back into space… …twisting through the air as he goes to snare the dazed World Champion… …and completing a 360-degree spin to land on the mat, driving Toxxic’s face into it. *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “CORKSCREW CRASH LANDON ‘04!” Pete shouts as the entire Sun Devil Stadium rises to its feet in universal jubilation. “Landon got him! He’s won the World Title!” ‘ONE!’ Kivell is counting for both men. The impact knocked the breath from Landon Maddix and he seems to be unable to rise. ‘TWO!’ “Don’t count your chickens yet, Dogger!” King argues, latching onto this faint hope. “Landon still needs to beat the ten-count! If they both stay down for the count then it’s a tie, and Toxxic retains!” ‘THREE!’ Maddix coughs weakly, desperately trying to breathe. How ironic, he bitterly reflects, if the move that allows him to beat Toxxic should also keep him down as well… ‘FOUR!’ Neither Megan nor Jet are shouting, banging the ring or making any other move. Both girls simply watch, hoping against hope that their respective man is going to be able to get up. ‘FIVE!’ Landon rolls to the side and grabs the ring rope. Like Toxxic after the Caffeine Bomb, he’s going to need help to stand. The World Title is so close…. ‘SIX!’ Maddix’s hand closes around the top rope now, and he hauls himself up with a wince as his right arm takes the strain. Kivell checks him, but Landon remains upright. “Amazing,” Pete breathes. “Like Muhammed Ali against George Foreman, Maddix let Toxxic punch himself out! In fact, the strain of lifting Landon up for those final moves could be what has beaten the World Champion!” ‘SEVEN!’ “Umm, Pete?” King says quietly, but with a certain edge of malice. “You might want to take a look at this…” On the canvas floor of the ring, one black-nailed hand is moving. Seemingly of its own volition, it positions itself underneath the Straight-Edge Sensation’s body. Moments later, the other joins it. ‘EIGHT…?’ Landon hears the uncertainty in Kivell’s voice and looks around, and his breath stops in his chest. Unsteadily, Toxxic is pushing himself up. As Landon watches the straight-edger gets one foot under him. ‘NINE…’ Maddix can’t seem to move, can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the spectacle unfolding in front of him. Toxxic’s nose is squashed oddly; it seems the Crash Landon might have broken it. But despite this, the Straight-Edge Sensation is not down. ‘TE-’ He’s up. And as Landon watches in disbelief a shaky, lopsided grin spreads over Toxxic’s face and one black-nailed finger raises… and wags mockingly. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Infuriated, Landon strides towards his opponent and fires off a left forearm. Toxxic is in no condition to block or dodge; the blow catches him on the cheek and the Brit crumples down to a sitting position. Kivell prepares to count but Landon simply grabs Toxxic by the hair and hauls him up. He needs to end this soon before the straight-edger can pull any more surprises out of the bag, and turns his thumb downwards in the symbol for the Tombstone. “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Firing off a quick prayer to whoever might be listening, Landon grabs his dazed opponent and goes to lift him as if for a scoop slam, ready to transition it into the dreaded inverted piledriver… but although he manages to get Toxxic off the mat his right arm gives out a moment later, causing him to release the straight-edger again with a curse! Maddix grabs his right arm with his left and tries to gather himself, but Toxxic is still quick enough to take advantage and simply lashes out with a right hand. Landon’s reserves of strength are almost gone and the single punch staggers him backwards into the ropes where he clings to remain upright but Toxxic follows him, more through his own momentum than deliberate movement, and takes hold of the right arm again. Landon tries to resist but Toxxic hauls backwards, sending La Cucaracha across the ring and into the far cables where he rebounds- *CRACK!* -and gets his legs taken out from underneath him with a soccer tackle! Landon staggers up to his feet, limping heavily, but turns round into a boot to the midsection… and a double underhook. “Soccer tackle and the Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” King cackles, “Toxxic’s going old-school on Landon now!” Toxxic doesn’t wait. This is his last throw of the dice, his last chance to end this match on his terms and retain the World Title. His last chance to prove them all wrong, again. So pausing only to take a breath, he hoists Landon Maddix UP… …straight up. And holds him there. “That’s not the Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” Longdogger Pete breathes as the Sun Devil Arena suddenly goes silent, “that’s the-” *BAM!* The reaction of the crowd is all the louder for the deathly still that proceeded it. “RRRRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” “DEMONSTAR DRRRRRIIIIVAAAAHHHHH~!” Pete roars, trying to make himself heard over the sonic avalanche. “Toxxic just hit the Demonstar on Landon Maddix, here in Arizona!” “I saw it, but I don’t believe it!” King splutters. “He did what!?” ‘ONE!’ With his final burst of energy, Toxxic staggers up and back from where he just planted Landon Maddix. The straight-edger comes to rest in a corner, holding himself up on the ropes, eyes wild. ‘TWO!’ He’d been doing so well. He’d hardly thought about the fact that they were in Arizona. ‘THREE!’ He’s been able to look at a packet of painkillers without seeing Silent staring back at him. ‘FOUR!’ And now, simply because Landon Maddix would not stay down, everything he’s been trying to achieve has come undone. ‘FIVE!’ In this place, just down the road from where Edwin MacPhisto first broke Nathaniel Kibagami’s neck, Toxxic has used the Demonstar Driver. ‘SIX!’ The Straight-Edge Sensation screws his eyes tight, two dark blotches on his pale skin from where they’ve watered and smudged his eyeliner after Landon’s eye gouges. A skilled lip-reader might be able to detect the same words being repeated over and over. ‘SEVEN!’ “I am not like him… I am not like him… I am not like him…” ‘EIGHT!’ Maddix stirs, causing Matty Kivell’s heart to skip a beat, but the ICTV Champion is, if not unconscious, as near as makes no difference. ‘NINE!’ Chris Raynor didn’t beat the count from this move. Edwin MacPhisto didn’t beat the count from this move. ‘TEN!’ *DING-DING-DING!* Landon Maddix didn’t beat the count from this move. “He’s done it,” King crows, “he’s squashed the Cockroach!” “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner and STILL~ SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPION…” Funyon booms over he crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’, “the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” The familiar chant rises again in the Sun Devil Stadium as Matthew Kivell hands the SWF World Heavyweight Title to Toxxic, but the Brit doesn’t seem to register either the victory or the derision of the fans. Wordlessly, without taunting of the crowd or any other acknowledgement of their presence, the straight-edger climbs awkwardly down through the ropes to the floor. Jet meets him there to steady him and the two turn and start to walk back up the entrance ramp. “Fans, I’ve seen a lot in my career with the SWF and elsewhere, but this is one of the most exciting nights I’ve ever been present for,” Longdogger Pete declares bluntly. “We’ve seen passion, we’ve seen belief, we’ve seen a fair amount of violence… and at the end of it all, Toxxic is still World Champion. What happens now? What else - and who else - can Martial Law throw at Revolution Zero, and where will Spike Jenkins feature? This was From The Fire, but now we’re heading for the Battleground! From the Suicide King and myself, we will see you on Storm!” Toxxic stops at the top of the ramp. Another chant is rising in Tempe, Arizona. “SIIIIIII-LENT…” “SIIIIIII-LENT…” Suppressing a shudder the Straight-Edge Sensation throws the World Heavyweight Title over his shoulder and steps into the relative darkness of the backstage area, leaving the Sun Devil Stadium behind him. FADE OUT © Smartmarks Wrestling Federation 2005 ‘Raising workrate by typing faster’ Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
