SWF BATTLEGROUND 2006!

[chirs3 0]

“…just when you think you know somebody…”

 

The lights around the Alltel Arena suddenly darken, leaving the sold-out crowd under nothing but the moonlight and the smoldering smoke of the camp by the entranceway. A few gasps and murmurs are exchanged as static breaks across the SmarkTron…

 

~ lonely static ~

 

~ eerily silent static ~

 

Finally, a solitary image begins to form, fading through the static. Small print near the bottom of the image shows “Last Night”, as a rooftop comes into view. In the distance, one can clearly make out the Alltel Arena on the horizon, it’s lights half-lit as crews no doubt work on setting up for the PPV the next night. Silhouetted against the night sky is a lone figure, his feet kicking out over the edge of the roof as he stares off into the distance. Upon moving closer, the camera can faintly make out the eyes of Bloodshed, hiding behind a few stray strands of hair…his trademark sly grin the only thing missing from what people used to know of him.

 

As he sits, his own voice can be heard, narrating over the scene as he sits in silence.

 

“...Just when you think you know somebody, things change. The way they look at life, the way they look at themselves, something just changes. Sometimes it is for the best, and in that change you might be left behind, or pulled along for the ride. Sometimes though, the change is nothing more than a last ditch attempt to salvage what was once something wondrous. As I stared out into the crowd just a few days ago in Georgia, I wondered. I wondered if it was worth it. If anything was worth it. I looked into the eyes of the fans that had not seen me for over a year, and had probably not even missed me. But what can you expect? I was on top of the world. I had done everything I set out to do, en route to what? En route to disaster…”

 

Bloodshed’s mouth finally opens, and he speaks…softly, quietly…

 

“I’d seen a million faces, and I’d rocked them all.”

 

“I was on top of the world, or so I thought. But deep down, thoughts began to hit me like trains, and my actions became erratic. How else can I explain a partnership with former enemies that caused my total disappearance? I did not run because of fear or hatred, no no. I did not run because of the obstacles I had in front of me. I ran…I ran because as I looked into my future, I saw the world looking down at me, and calling me a turncoat. Calling me a failure. Asking me why I had went against everything I had said since I had stepped foot in the SWF, let alone the SJL. It was then I realized that things needed to change…”

 

As the narration stops, Bloodshed jumps down from his perch, landing on a rusted fire escape and beginning his descent down into an alleyway below. The camera angle changes down into the dark alley just as Bloodshed’s feet hit the ground, the narration returned as he walked toward the street…

 

“…When I first came to the Junior Leagues, this was all people knew of me. They knew of my blood, they knew of my desire for victory, and they knew I would do whatever it took to get it. They saw me fail in my debut, but they did not call me a failure. They called it potential. They looked into my eyes and knew that a man like Todd Royal was not going to keep me from destiny…and they were right. But my past interfered and before too long I already felt as though I was betraying myself and who I was, all for the sake of revenge. At the time, it seemed to be worth it, but as the months ticked by…and even with the accolades…I knew that eventually I would have to make a choice…”

 

The camera follows Bloodshed into a fairly deserted Jacksonville street. The few people that are around barely give the trenchcoat-clad wrestler a second look, and he barely gives them a first look as he reaches a corner and throws his hand up for a taxi.

 

“…the choice to either accept my destiny of broken dreams due to my poor decisions and behavior, or to do whatever it took to make sure that when I looked back on my life…I would know that I was leaving behind memories that no one else could have been capable of creating…and that people would wait in line at my funeral to gaze upon me just to say they saw the man who did things his way, who never let the world push him around, and who left the world a different and better place than he had found it…”

 

A taxi finally pulls to the curb and Bloodshed steps inside, leaving the scene to fade out to darkness…emptiness…

 

~ Emptiness? ~

 

~ Oh yes… ~

 

The scene returns, the Alltel Arena…empty…now darkened for the night as it awaits the sold-out crowd for Battleground less than a day away. The ring sits dormant, as do the thousands of chairs and seats…all except one. Just off the floor of the arena, sitting a few rows back and nearly under a balcony sits Bloodshed, still alone, his hands holding his chin as he stares down into the center of the ring. His narration returns once more…

 

“…I see the SWF in a state of shock and disarray. Your world champion had left you, and wrestlers feel more apt to sleep at home than to entertain the masses. I am guilty of those crimes just the same. I know that sometimes it isn’t about the entertainment. But I do know now, more than I ever did…that my sole purpose in life is not just to make the world around me a better place…but to leave the SWF itself as a much better and different place…”

 

The camera is now only inches from Bloodshed’s face, and with a whip of his hand his eyes and trademark sly grin become visible, a small tear trail of blood dripping from his forehead to his right cheek.

 

“My time is far from over, and the man you thought you knew behind these eyes is gone. I came into this company the same as I came into this world – with a purpose. And when I leave this company…when I leave that ring for the final time…you will all know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my purpose here has been fulfilled. I thought I had found my purpose three years ago when I stood across the ring from the likes of the House of Todd or HVille Thugg…but no, what I found in those men were nothing more than distractions. They were distractions in the search for my ultimate reason to be here in front of every single one of you. My choices in life have led me here, and my choices will continue to lead me into the direction of my one true purpose. I haven’t found it yet…but when I do…everything you know will change…

 

Your dreams…

 

Your hopes…

 

Your memories…

 

Your world…

 

…and I guess the only thing you can do now is simply wait…and…bleed.”

 

His smile grows wider as the image slowly fades away, leaving behind a dark screen, a confused crowd, and an uncertain future.

 

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

[chirs3 0]

The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation Presents...



SWF BATTLEGROUND!
LIVE, SUNDAY, APRIL 23rd, FROM THE SOLD OUT ALLTELL STADIUM IN JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA!




(7:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings)

Send everything to: chirs3

COMMENTATORS: The winner of the Replacement Kommentator Kontest, MAK FRANCIS, will be in the booth alongside the everlovin' Suicide King!

OFFICIAL THEME MUSIC: "War", by Edwin Starr.

SET DESIGN: VIETNAM~!

The set around the Entryway will look somewhat like an American camp - tents, jeeps, and two American flags on either side of the top of the ramp. As you move closer to the ring, we shift to a village, blown up and burned down, like this. Smoke, everywhere. A few bodies, too.

For the main event - and ONLY the main event - the competitors will be choppered in to the arena.

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

THE MAIN EVENT

SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match
JJ Johnson vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix

---> Landon Maddix had been named the #1 Contender to the World Title, and he was set to go on to Battleground and face Wes Davenport.

Slight problem: DAVENPORT PLAYED US.

We got Punk'd.

In a scramble to get a PPV Main Event put together in time, the SWF staff reviewed recent events - a few weeks ago, JJ Johnson had won the right to face Wes at Battleground by besting the SWF's head of security, Janus. No small feat, to be sure. Peters was less than willing to make good on JJ's shot, handing it to Landon instead, but now that the Champion's seat is empty, Johnson gets his shot after all. It certainly doesn't hurt that these two have history, either...

Rules: Canadian Death Match! First man to score a cumulative 10-count over his opponent wins! Pinfalls of 3 or higher are counted, and submissions count for 3.

-=-=-=-=-=-

STREET FIGHT
"Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Zyon

---> The history between these two is long and spotty. They've been successful apart in singles competition, successful together as a tag team, and it seemed like they would be set to take the SWF by storm. But they began to fall out - bad blood over the Cruiserweight Championship, and their inability to take the Clusterfuck and the tag team titles... they began to blame each other, and before you knew it, Team SpYon fell apart just as quickly as they came together...

... but that wasn't the end. Zyon would not let well enough alone, and he awoke a monster in Spike Jenkins - a monster that, in recent weeks, has been attacking him left and right! The SWF staff has had its hands full trying to keep this two apart, but it's obvious that such a thing will not happen. There's only one way to settle this, and no, it's not in the ring.

Rules: Street Fight Rules~!

-=-=-=-=-=-

SWF International Championship Match
Wildchild © vs. Jimmy the Doom

---> Jimmy the Doom pulled out a very impressive win against Kevin Coyote on Smarkdown, and earned a crack at the reigning International Champion, the Wildchild! Dub-Cee has taken down all comers so far, but I don't think he's ever had the... unique... challenge that Jimmy the Doom presents.

Rules: Standard singles match.

-=-=-=-=-=-

GRUDGE MATCH
Bruce Blank vs. Insane Luchadore

---> Bruce Blank and Insane Luchadore have been dancing around each other for over a month now. What once was a simple spat over the title has now been blown up to beyond epic proportions - this ain't about the belt anymore. One of the most heated rivalries in recent memory will finally come to a head at Battleground, as the self-proclaimed King of Ultraviolence takes on the man who embodies the very meaning of Hardcore. Predicting a winner is damn near impossible, but there's one thing we can all be certain of - neither man will be the same after this.

Rules: Ironman Match - 30 minute limit... inside this thing:


-=-=-=-=-=-

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP - AIR RAID MATCH
"The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu © vs. Grendel vs. Stryke vs. Austin Sly

---> Akira Kaibatsu has been a one-man wrecking machine... or, if you replace "wrecking machine" with "guy who defends his title a lot", that works better. But defending against just one opponent is so passe... let's do four at once!

Rules: Steel Poles extend up from the turnbuckles 20 feet high. Steel cables attached to the poles run across the center and form a giant X. The Cruiserweight title is suspended above the ring, hanging from the X formed. To win, you must obtain the belt. Ladders are permitted, but may not be used to grab the belt. Other than that, no disqualifications. If two men grab the belt and both hold on after falling to the mat, they are co-champions.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Amy Stephens © vs. Megan Skye

---> Hell hath no fury... fuck that. That saying gets used way too much around here when we have a women's match. We need another saying.

In the mean time, let's all laugh at Landon for being in the middle of this mess! Haha! After reuniting with his manager, Megan Skye, Landon neglected to visit his little Amy-poo in the hospital, and the resulting falling out led to Joseph Peters signing this match! A lingerie pillowfight seemed a little too over the top, so these two hellcats will tear it up in a fully sanctioned wrasslin' match!

Rules: Standard singles match.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Jay Hawke vs. Manson ©

---> Jay Hawke ain't a happy customer. After wrestling Landon Maddix to a time-limit draw, he is shunned, kicked to the curb in favor of Landon Maddix and JJ Johnson. Hawke may be getting a second run for the World Title when this is all over, but for now, we've got to find a way for him to work out his aggression. The answer? Stick him against JJ's tag team partner.

Rules: Standard singles match.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Let's Get Everyone Booked II! - THIS TIME IT'S PERSONAL
Michael Cross vs. Sean Davis

Rules: Submission match - first man to make his opponent say the magic words (or tap the magic fingers, I suppose) wins.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Let's Get Everyone Booked!
David Cross vs. Christian Fury

Rules: Standard singles match.

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

[chirs3 0]

"...and welcome back to Alltell Stadium," Mak says as the cameras pan the packed Alltell Stadium. "That was interesting look back at the history of Battleground and it looks like Christian Fury is already in the ring."

 

"Introducing his opponent..."

 

#DESTROY#

 

"“...he stands six foot five inches tall and weighs in at 269 pounds! Originally from Oil City, Pennsylvania, he now resides in Salem, Oregon! DAAAAAAVID CROSS~!”

 

'Suck It Up' by (hed)PE plays, but interestingly...

 

"Cross isn't coming out," Mak says as the crowd goes from pumped to confused.

"This is weird," says King.

 

Funyon takes the mic, glances at Fury who just shrugs. "His opponent...DAVID CROSS!"

 

'Suck It Up' plays again, but still no cross.

 

Funyon looks at the ref, then leaves the ring. The referee calls for the bell...

 

DING! DING!

 

"Looks like ole' Fury is going to pull this one out via no-show," King says as the referee counts.

"This is just odd," Mak responds.

 

The referee continues the count, reaching ten and calling for the bell!

 

Funyon takes the mic and announces the finish, "Your winner, via countout...CHRISTIAN FURY!"

 

The crowd lets out a mixed pop as Fury goes to the back, a look of confusion still on his face.

[chirs3 0]

The stadium lights at the Alltell field dim slightly as "War" fades from the speakers. The cheers from the crowd die as "Omerta" by Lamb of God kicks up. Red strobe lights flash over the Jacksonville fans, who begin cheering loudly.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen!" announces Funyon, looking flashy in his tux. "The following contest is a Submission Match! The first wrestler to force his opponent to submit or pass out will be declared the winner! Announcing first! From Detroit, Michigan! Weighing in at two hundred and twenty three pounds! He is 'The Suicide Machine!'.. MIIIIICHAEELLL CROOOSSSSSSSS!!"

 

YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

 

"Welcome back to SWF Battleground!" greets Mak Francis. "We just witnessed-"

 

King interjects, "A snoozer."

 

"It was a great match between David Cross and his former partner Christian Fury."

 

"I wish David and Michael would just form a tag team already. I have double cross jokes out the yin-yang."

 

Cross's theme fades from the speakers and is replaced by "Battle Ready" by Otep. The Floridian crowd spits venom as Sean Davis steps onto the stage.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

"And his opponent, from Jacksonville, Florida!" Funyon pauses as the booing crowd gets so loud that he can't hear himself.

 

"Wow!" exclaims Mak! "These people despise Sean Davis! He lives right in their backyard!"

 

King glances at his partner, "Have you seen this guy's rap sheet?"

 

Francis looks confused, "No, why?"

 

"Sean Davis is a disgrace to this town. It was a horrible place to begin with, but Davis just stunk it up that much further."

 

"Because of an overturned conviction?"

 

King sighs and then explains, "It's like the guys on the Duke Lacrosse team. Even if they turn up innocent, they'll forever be labeled 'those guys that raped the stripper'."

 

Funyon carries on his announcement, despite most likely not being heard by the crowd. "Weighing in at two hundred and eighty five pounds.. 'The Perfect Storm!' SEEEEEAAAN DAAAAAAVISSS!"

 

COOOON-VIIIIICT!

 

COOOON-VIIIIICT!!

 

COOOON-VIIIIIICT!!

 

"I have a feeling we'll hear a lot of that tonight."

 

Davis jogs to the ring and hurries up the steps. He enters from over the top rope and doesn't hesitate to attack Michael Cross! Mike barely gets his hands up and takes a few shots to the head. He backs up into the ropes and twists like a boxer, evading the worst of the blows. Sean swings down over the back of Cross's head, dropping the Suicide Machine to the mat. The referee, Tim Black, quickly interferes, reminding Davis of the rules regarding closed-fist strikes. Sean glares at the ref, giving him an icy stare that begs the question, 'Do you really want to get in my way right now?' Black nearly jumps out of the way, and Sean grabs up Cross by the hair, lifting him to his feet. Mike rams his fist into Sean's gut, loosening the big man's grasp. Cross throws his arms up, breaking completely free and he begins wailing on Davis!

 

YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

 

The street-hard striker takes advantage of the surprised behemoth and takes Davis down with a quick DDT. Sean easily shakes off the sloppy maneuver and begins to rise. Cross continues his attack, landing blow after hard blow with his forearms, keeping Sean on his knees.

 

We all should have known something like this would happen..

 

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES! FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES! THE FUCK?!

 

Davis counters! Cross falls flat on his face, grasping at his neck in pain! Sean climbs on top of Michael, locks on a Full Nelson and pulls back!

 

"Avalanche! Will Cross submit to this finisher with a stupid name?!"

 

Of course he does!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

DING DING DING!

 

"Your winner by submission, at fifteen minutes and twenty three seconds.. SEEEEEANN DAAAVIS!!"

 

"Battle Ready" by Otep, fade.

[chirs3 0]

Cut backstage to the Battleground 2006 backdrop, where Ben Hardy stands with Jay Hawke.

 

Hardy: “I am standing here tonight with Jay Hawke, who takes on Manson in our next match. Jay, it was last year at Battleground where you defeated Manson to earn a shot at the International Championship, and the rest, as they say, is history. But tonight, there’s no title on the line. There’s no title shot on the line. What are your thoughts going into this match?”

 

Hawke: “My thoughts? My thoughts are so simple that even you should be able to understand them, Hardy. See, it was me who beat Wes Davenport down like a dog to the point that he tucked his tail between his legs and ran back to the pound.”

 

Hardy: “That’s not exactly what happened.”

 

Hawke: “Merely a convenient excuse, I assure you. But you see, it left us with no World Champion. So what does the championship committee do in their infinite wisdom? They simply stick two people into a title match and say ‘Here you go.’ And which two guys? My two partners. Former partners. Whatever. Now, personally? I’m proud of both guys for getting that spot, but they should not be there before me. JJ Johnson and I have never met one-on-one, and he’s probably as close to an equal as I have in this company. But Landon Maddix? Landon Maddix has never beaten me. Not once. And the closest he came was a time limit draw. But somehow he’s got the chance to regain the title even though he’s been fooling around with a guy who’s not even in the company right now.”

 

Hardy: “Where is this going?”

 

Hawke: “Simple, Hardy. Instead of getting a shot at the title like I deserve, I have to take on JJ Johnson’s tag team partner in the undercard. A man I beat last year at Battleground. A man I beat in an old school rules match on pay-per-view. Fine. Put whoever you want in the ring with me. Because tonight, I’m making Manson tap out, and I’m facing the winner of the main event for the World Title.”

 

Hardy: “But there’s no guarantee you’ll be named the number one contender.”

 

Hawke: “No? Then just watch this match!”

 

Hawke storms off the interview set, leaving Hardy alone, shaking his head.

[chirs3 0]

Francis: “Battleground continues live from Jacksonville! And we are getting set for a rematch from last year’s Battleground…”

 

King: “Purely a coincidence knowing our booking committee, I’m sure…”

 

Francis: “…as Jay Hawke takes on one-half of the World Tag Team Champions, Manson. A lot of history between these two men, King.”

 

King: “Exactly. Last year at Battleground, Jay beat Manson right in the middle of the ring with the Wing Span to become the number one contender to the International Title, a title Hawke dominated for most of last year. Manson was able to get that win back on a fluke, only to lose in an Old School Rules Match with the title on the line, which is the only time it counted.”

 

Francis: “A lot has changed since the last time Hawke and Manson squared off. Now it’s Manson who holds gold in the tag team championship, and while that piece of hardware is not on the line tonight, the role reversal could end up playing a key part in that match.”

 

King: “Well, I think it’s Hawke who has all the motivation in this one. He’s here in what is really a meaningless match on the undercard where his two former stablemates are fighting for the vacant World Title in the main event. You can make an argument that JJ Johnson is there, but as Hawke stated earlier tonight, Landon Maddix has never beaten Jay Hawke, only managing a time limit draw as an even remote bit of success against him. And who does Hawke face tonight? Johnson’s tag team championship partner. The way I look at this one is Hawke has a gripe that he should be in line for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship, and a win here goes a long way toward proving that.”

 

Francis: “But it doesn’t guarantee him a shot at the World Title with so many men on a hot streak right now, and let’s not forget that Hawke actually lost in his one shot at the title.”

 

King: “And that didn’t stop Wes Davenport from taking his ball and going home before making another title defense, did it? Face it, Hawke came this close to winning it then, and if he gets another shot, it’s his.”

 

Francis: “To get that shot, he needs a series of big wins, and he can start with a win over Manson tonight. Let’s go to Funyon for the introductions to this contest.”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit. Your referee is Scott Ryder.”

 

The crowd boos the mention of the referee’s name because it’s standard wrestling procedure to do so, then they begin to boo even louder as the lights dim and the opening strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” come over the PA.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first … from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … and weighing in at 215 pounds … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

As the crowd boos, a lone spotlight shines on the top of the entryway, and Jay Hawke steps into it, the light showing off the sequins on Hawke’s gorgeous black and violet ring robe. Hawke begins to walk toward the ring, developing a huge smirk as the crowd begins to dive into its familiar chant:

 

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

The crowd’s chants don’t even seem to faze the Cleveland native, as he wipes his feet on the ring apron and steps through the ropes, raising his arms into the air as the boos get louder. Hawke then steps onto the middle rope and points his thumbs toward his chest as if to tell the crowd, “If I’m so bad, why did you pay to see me?” As Hawke hops off the turnbuckle and takes off the robe, the lights flare up, as Mastodon’s “Crusher Destroyer” blasts from the speakers, to the accompaniment of strobes pulsing and flashing in time with the music.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent … from the Mile High City of Denver, Colorado … weighing in at 240 pounds … one half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions … MAAAAAAAAAAANSOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

The strobe lights continue to pulsate to the rhythm of the music. Manson walks out moments later to the jeers of the crowd and heads down the ramp. He rolls in upon hitting the ring, throwing up the horns to more heat from the fans, then heads toward his corner.

 

Francis: “This is going to be interesting from the fans’ perspective as well, King. Neither of these men are exactly well-liked by this capacity crowd.”

 

King: “And neither of them care. This isn’t about who the crowd likes or doesn’t like. This is about who the better wrestler. And unless Manson chops Jay Hawke up into 15,000 little pieces, I’d say Jay Hawke is going to be the one to take this contest.”

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

With the sound of the bell, the two combatants lock horns in the center of the ring. Manson quickly uses his strength advantage to toss Jay Hawke down to the canvas, but Hawke is quickly right back to his feet. They lock up again, and again Manson simply throws Hawke to the canvas like he’s a football being spiked after a touchdown. That’s an American football for the Europeans in the house. Again, Hawke wastes no time regaining his feet and locking up with his opponent, but Hawke counters Manson’s strength by raking his eyes.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Francis: “Jay Hawke already resorting to breaking the rules to gain an advantage.”

 

Hawke quickly locks Manson into a side headlock, but Manson grabs a handful of hair and uses it to bring Hawke down to the canvas.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Francis: “And Manson countering with some cheating of his own!”

 

King: “I gotta tell ya, Mak, whether you like these two guys or not, and I do, you’ve gotta love that these two men will do anything and everything to win a match!”

 

Hawke immediately regains his feet and drives a knee into the abdomen of his opponent, doubling him over. He hooks the head in a front facelock and begins to swing Manson’s neck, but Manson simply grabs a hold of Hawke’s tights and flips him over the top of his shoulder. Hawke is slightly dazed as he makes his way to his feet, and Manson fires back with a series of forearm smashes and elbow strikes that back Hawke against the ropes. With the Dean of Wrestling off-guard, the Raging Bull charges and levels Hawke with a clothesline, sending the former International Champion tumbling over the top-rope to the hard concrete floor as a handful of fans cheer but most boo.

 

Francis: “A fast-paced opening to this contest, and Jay Hawke is already on the floor trying to regroup, albeit not by choice.”

 

King: “Referee Scott Ryder tries to make sure Manson doesn’t go to the floor, and Hawke needs to take advantage of this unofficial timeout. Catch your breath, rethink your strategy, then get back in that ring and take control.”

 

Hawke does reenter the ring and holds up a finger, telling Manson to wait a minute. Hawke then begins doing some calisthenics in the ring, stretching as Manson looks at the referee like “What the hell is he doing?”

 

King: “See, Jay just forgot to do his prematch stretching. If you’re not properly warmed up, you can pull something out there.”

 

As Manson looks at the referee, Hawke charges, but Manson sees it coming an extends an arm out, grabbing Hawke by the throat. Ryder begins a disqualification count in an effort to make Manson release the choke, so Manson quickly picks Hawke up and drives him to the canvas with a body slam. Hawke quickly rolls out of the ring, and Manson attempts to follow but is stopped by the referee.

 

Francis: “Hawke looking for some trickery there, but Manson’s a veteran, so nothing doing.”

 

King: “And once again, out on the floor in an attempt to regroup, this time by choice. Plenty of time remaining in the time limit, no need to go out and rush things.”

 

Hawke makes his way back in well before the referee’s ten count, but Manson is on him almost before the Dean can get his second foot into the ring. He drives a series of chops into the back of the neck of his opponent, bringing him to his knees. Manson immediately goes for a roundhouse kick, but Hawke has just enough speed to sweep the leg out from underneath Manson to send him to the mat. Hawke quickly gets to his feet and attempts to drop the leg across the chest of the Raging Bull, but Manson rolls out of the way. Manson gets to his feet and reaches down to pull Hawke off the mat, but Hawke manages to squirm away and slide out of the ring.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

King: “Hawke again wisely taking a breather.”

 

Scott Ryder once again tries to keep Manson in the ring, but Manson picks up the referee, places him on the top turnbuckle, and slides out of the ring after Hawke.

 

Francis: “And this time Manson’s having nothing to do with it. He wants to take the fight to Hawke on the floor if he can!”

 

Hawke sees Manson out of the corner of his eye and thinks to myself, “God, don’t follow me out here.” A little late for that, Hawke begins to back peddle, circling the ring with Manson on his heels. Seeing that Manson’s losing only a little bit of ground, he slows down, allowing Manson to catch up. He then drops down and scissors Manson’s foot, using the Raging Bull’s momentum to execute a drop toehold and drive him shoulder first into the steel ring steps.

 

King: “Brilliant move!”

 

Francis: “That was impressive, I have to admit it!”

 

King: “And he may have injured Manson’s shoulder while he was at it, which will help weaken him for the Wing Span! You gotta love that move!”

 

Hearing the referee’s count has reached eight, Hawke quickly slides into the ring, then slides back out to restart the count. He rams Manson face first into the steps, then rolls Manson back into the ring. Hawke slides into the ring and covers Manson:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

Manson easily kicks out, but Hawke quickly grabs the arm and drives it into the mat before yanking on it while putting all his weight on the shoulder.

 

Francis: “Fujiwara armbar by Jay Hawke, and you’re right, King. Going right to work on the shoulder that was driven into the steel ring steps earlier on tonight!”

 

Manson grimaces in pain, but his ring positioning allows him to simply move a bit to his side and drape his leg over the bottom rope. Referee Ryder calls for the break, but Hawke refuses.

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Jay Hawke breaks the hold at four, grabs Manson by the wrist, drags him towards the center of the ring, and reapplies the hold.

 

King: “And there’s the mark of a tremendous wrestler, Mak. He used every second of that five count, then pulled Manson to the center of the ring so he could reapply the hold.”

 

The hold firmly applied and the ropes not within reach, Manson grits his teeth in an effort to fight the pain. He reaches back with his free arm and tries to elbow Hawke, but the Dean of Wrestling is just out of reach. Frustrated, Manson pounds the mat with his fist, and Hawke pulls back further on the hold to apply more pressure.

 

Francis: “I’ve felt this hold from Jay Hawke before. Only a handful of guys can apply it better. Hawke knows exactly where that pressure point is and how use it to your advantage.”

 

King: “And that’s what makes him more dangerous then some men twice his size. Those guys just pound you, but Hawke maximizes the pain and refuses to let up until the bell rings.”

 

With the pain shooting through Manson’s arm, he begins to use his free arm to pull himself and his opponent toward the ropes. Hawke leans back as far as he can, hoping the added leverage will stop Manson in his tracks. It does, but only for a moment, as Manson summons up all the effort he can muster to make one lunge forward and grab the bottom rope. As referee Scott Ryder begins to make the count, something strange happens:

 

 

The cheers, only faint a moment ago, get louder. Just slightly, but louder, and out of respect more than anything else.

 

Francis: “Jay Hawke is once again forced to break the hold, but the damage may have been done!”

 

King: “Even if Manson has full use of that left arm right now, you know he’s going to be feeling that for a couple of days.”

 

With Hawke having released the hold, Manson pulls himself to his knees, only for Hawke to drive Manson face-first into the mat. Jay Hawke then immediately drops a leg across the back of Manson’s neck before rolling him over, away from the ropes, and putting his body between the ropes and Manson as he goes for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout. Hawke wastes no time, wrapping his hands around Manson’s throat in an attempt to choke the life out of him:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Hawke releases the hold, only to put it one once again:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Hawke again releases the hold and goes for the pin, hooking the leg for leverage:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout. Jay Hawke quickly applies a conventional armbar before just as quickly turning it into a key lock.

 

Francis: “Hawke going back to work on the shoulder here, but the referee never should have counted that pinfall. It was off of an illegal hold.”

 

King: “Certainly, but if the referee’s going to count the fall anyway, why not try to take advantage of that?”

 

Hawke applies more pressure to the key lock. Manson reaches back with his free hand and repeatedly punches Hawke in the face, forcing the Dean to release the hold. That gives Manson enough time to get back to his feet, and he staggers Hawke with a forearm smash. Hawke moves forward, only to get leveled with another forearm strike. Hawke moves forward yet again, and this time Manson spins around and levels the Dean of Wrestling with a roaring elbow with such force that he lands on top of his opponent:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “A near fall from Manson, and remember, Manson is right-handed and Hawke’s been working on the left arm, so those blows are connecting with full force!”

 

As both men make their way to their feet, Manson levels Hawke with a European uppercut as a small but vocal portion of the crowd begins a “Let’s Go Manson” chant. Although the chant doesn’t pick up, Manson immediately goes for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “Another near fall. Manson is going for these pins almost before Hawke’s shoulders hit the canvas!”

 

King: “Which doesn’t accomplish much except make me wonder about the referee’s count.”

 

Francis: “Actually, it’s smart strategy, as Hawke gets no time to recover before having to kick out.”

 

Manson begins to pull Hawke to his feet and set him up for a suplex, but Hawke immediately punches Manson’s left arm. Manson clutches the shoulder in pain and doubles over, and Hawke quickly hooks in a front facelock and takes Manson over with a swinging neck breaker. Hawke immediately goes for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “And this time it’s Hawke going for the quick cover. What a tremendous match this has been.”

 

King: “Not bad for a match that’s just kinda filler more than anything else, huh?”

 

Hawke grabs a hold of Manson’s left arm and drives a series of knees into the shoulder. With the last one, he grinds the knee into the shoulder, yanking back on the wrist and twisting it as much as possible. Manson screams, as having your wrist bent back and twisted hurts like a motherfucker.

 

Francis: “My God! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man’s wrist bend like that!”

 

King: “Not unless it was broken or torn off, no.”

 

Hawke relieves the pressure before driving the knee into the shoulder again. Manson falls to the mat, and Hawke extends Manson’s arm across the canvas before dropping a leg across the shoulder. Manson clutches at the shoulder as Hawke goes for the pin again:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout. Hawke goes for the pin again, this time hooking the leg.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

 

“DAMMIT!”

 

Francis: “And this could be dangerous for Hawke. He’s getting frustrated, and that’s when you make mistakes.”

 

King: “You’d be the one to know considering how many mistakes you’ve made during your career.”

 

And being frustrated, Hawke begins moving away from his normal technical game and begins throwing punches. Yes, punches. Next thing you know he’ll be kicking with the point of the boot. After a flurry of ten solid right hands to the skull, Hawke goes for the pin again:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

 

“FUCK!”

 

King: “Whoa.”

 

Francis: “Well, this is what happens when you hit a slump after a title reign like Hawke had. It has to seem like years since he’s won a major match.”

 

King: “Well, there was that match with Spike Jenkins a few weeks ago. I like Spike’s new attitude, but I gotta admit that made me laugh.”

 

Hawke reaches down with yet another chokehold, in full view of the referee who quickly starts his count:

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Hawke releases the hold and locks Manson in a front facelock, partly to wear the Raging Bull down and partly to calm himself down.

 

Francis: “And this is exactly what Hawke needs to do here, I think.”

 

King: “Exactly. I know he’s getting frustrated, but he can’t allow himself to begin brawling with Manson. That’s a sure sign of weakness, and a sign that he’s going to lose the match.”

 

Manson begins to make his way to his feet, thanks in part to the handful of hair he reaches up and grabs. The referee counts to force Manson to let go of the hair, but it’s the Dean’s tightening of the headlock that releases the hair pull. A few seconds pass, then Hawke drops the Raging Bull down to the mat with a DDT.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Francis: “Tremendous DDT there! That one might have knocked Manson completely out!”

 

King: “There’s no doubt it did. Hawke just needs to cover him right here!”

 

But Hawke doesn’t cover him. In fact, Jay Hawke decides instead to keep Manson prone on the mat, only taking the time to extend the Raging Bull’s arm along the canvas. Hawke then heads over and climbs the top turnbuckle.

 

Francis: “What is Hawke doing here?”

 

King: “Very uncharacteristic of him, and I’m not sure this is a smart move! He’s got the match won right here!”

 

Hawke makes his way to the top rope, takes a deep breath, and leaps, diving onto his opponent with a head BUTT to the left shoulder.

 

King: “Beautiful!”

 

Francis: “Pinpoint precision on the diving head BUTT to the shoulder there by Jay Hawke, and that’s got to be enough to put him away there!”

 

Jay Hawke shakes his head a little bit to shake off the effects of the head BUTT, then rolls Manson onto his back and covers him:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR -- Manson rolls his left shoulder off of the canvas, and Jay Hawke’s head drops in disappointment.

 

“What the hell do I have to do?”

 

Francis: “Manson kicked out yet again, and it seems like he refuses to be pinned!”

 

King: “This is when you need to distract the referee and lay the man out with a steel chair or something!”

 

A chair’s out of the question -- after all, the referee is still conscious -- but Hawke is still ready to put this one away. He gets behind Manson as Manson begins to stand, almost begging him to return to his feet.

 

King: “Or you can lock in your finishing hold after focusing on a certain part of the body for most of the contest. Either way works.”

 

Manson makes his way to his feet, and Hawke tries to hook the arm and chin for the Wing Span, but Manson instinctively turns Hawke over the hip with a modified arm drag. Hawke rolls under the bottom rope and onto the ring apron as Manson, on both knees, clutches at the left shoulder. Hawke positions himself on the ring apron and waits for Manson to make it to his feet again. As he does, Hawke leaps, using the top rope as a springboard to catapult himself into the ring…

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

…only for Manson to leap up at the same time, catching Hawke in the upper chest with a knee. Hawke hits the mat awkwardly as Manson clutches his shoulder for a split second before shouting “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A portion of the crowd begins chanting “Let’s Go Manson” while a dueling portion of the crowd chants “Manson sucks!”

 

Francis: “Most of these fans have been booing both men no matter what, but Manson has always had his fair share of supporters, and they’re trying to rally him to victory here!”

 

King: “But they can’t count Jay Hawke out just yet!”

 

As Hawke makes his way to his feet, Manson grabs a hold of Hawke’s head, driving the right knee into his face.

 

Then the left knee to the face.

 

The right.

 

The left.

 

He alternates knees to the face until the only thing keeping Hawke on his feet is Manson’s grip, then he leaps up, driving both knees into Hawke’s exposed face. Hawke collapses to the mat as Manson goes for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T -- kickout.

 

Francis: “A near fall, and I don’t think Manson can believe it!”

 

King: “Maybe he can’t, but I can! What a contest so far!”

 

Manson pulls Jay Hawke to his feet, setting him up for a suplex. He cradles Hawke’s leg, then spins into what almost looks like a swinging neck breaker while maintaining a bridge:

 

Francis: “Moss-covered three handled…”

 

ONE!

 

“…family credenza…”

 

TWO!

 

“…and it could be all over here!”

 

TH -- kickout.

 

King: “NO! Only the count of two! Manson might be known for his resiliency, but Hawke is showing he’s no slouch in that department either right now!”

 

A look of frustration builds on Manson’s face as he once again pulls the Dean of Wrestling to his feet. Manson levels Hawke with a series of forearms and elbows, then catches Hawke with a roundhouse kick that spins Hawke around 180 degrees but only brings Hawke down to one knee. Manson hooks Hawke up from behind with a full nelson, then uses his hips to throw Hawke backwards, bringing him back down to the mat while maintaining a bridge:

 

Francis: “Dragon suplex!”

 

ONE!

 

King: “It could be over here!”

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR -- Jay Hawke rolls over to his right, just breaking the full nelson and getting his shoulder off the canvas.

 

Francis: “No! Hawke kicks out again!”

 

Manson uses the right arm to pound the mat in frustration as he tries to shake the numbness out of the left arm.

 

King: “And look at the pain on Manson’s face. He used nearly every bit of strength he had left in that arm trying to pin him with those suplexes. He couldn’t get the pin with them, and now he’s the one who’s trying to figure out how to put his opponent away.”

 

As Jay Hawke makes his way to his feet, Manson decides enough is enough. He backs up and charges, arm cocked for the Western Lariat, but Jay Hawke senses it, turns, and leaps, dropkicking the left shoulder. Manson screams as he falls in a heap, and Hawke, ignoring the beating he’s endured the last several minutes, quickly turns and hooks in the Wing Span while Manson is still on the canvas.

 

Francis: “There’s the Wing Span! Crossface chickenwing, the normally free arm trapped in a scissors, and with all the punishment Hawke’s dealt to that shoulder, how much of this can Manson take?”

 

King: “Manson survived more than two minutes in this hold at Battleground last year, which was unheard of at the time, but I’m not sure he can last that long this year. That shoulder has simply had too much damage done to it!”

 

Manson grits his teeth, trying to fight the pain despite the left shoulder feeling like it’s been stabbed with sixteen knives in forty-three different places. Manson somehow gets the right hand flat on the mat and tries to use the arm to push himself off the mat and relieve the pressure of the hold, and he manages to pull himself to his knees, only for Hawke to clamp down on the pressure again.

 

Francis: “Manson tried to counter, but he was unable to!”

 

King: “And if he can’t make his way to the ropes now, I don’t think he’s getting out of this hold!”

 

Manson reaches forward, hoping to get those ropes, but he’s a good three feet away. Manson tries to push himself toward the ropes, but he only gets about three inches closer before the pain becomes too much…

 

 

*taptaptaptap*

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

The majority of the crowd boos, while the rest remain silent as they didn’t care who won in the first place.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 14 minutes 3 seconds, your winner by submission … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

Jay Hawke releases the hold and looks down at his fallen opponent, a combined look of satisfaction, exhaustion, and relief on his face.

 

Francis: “Jay Hawke gets the tap out victory, but Manson put up one hell of a fight there, King!”

 

King: “He certainly did that, Mak. Nobody will ever be able to accuse Manson of not giving his all in that ring. But Hawke came here with all the motivation. He felt as though he was shunned out of a main event and title shot that he deserves, and a victory like that should go a long way to getting another crack at whoever wins that main event tonight.”

 

Francis: “But we still have plenty more action still to come here tonight, so don’t miss it!”

 

Fade out to an ad for this week’s episode of Aftershoxxx...

[chirs3 0]

Backstage, Wayne Blank sits in a small locker room, his brother nowhere to be found.

 

“You think this is a good idea?”

 

“Of course.” Bruce’s voice can be heard from the adjacent room, when suddenly the lights cut out. Wayne screams with a pitch that could break barbershop glass. When they finally come back on, Bloodshed is standing against the back wall. Wayne screams again.

 

“What the hell was that?” Bruce’s voice is then heard, and Bloodshed looks into the opposite room, and smiles.

 

“Do you think it’s worth it, Bruce?” Bloodshed asks. Bruce can be heard mumbling, and Bloodshed nods as he pushes the hair from his face, showing a small amount of blood. Wayne shudders.

 

“I tried to tell him he was nuts…” Wayne starts, but Bloodshed cuts him off.

 

“He thinks it’s worth it. Do you hear that? He thinks that jumping into a cage full of barbwire spiderwebs, tables, glass, lighttubes…he thinks it’s worth it. He thinks that every single one of these fans in Jacksonville is going to send him letters and flowers in the hospital after he, and that crazy Luchador too, destroy each other. He thinks that these fans are going to give a shit. But they won’t. They’ll be lucky if they get a standing ovation after the thirty minutes of hell they are apparently going to put each other through. I know what you are thinking, Brucie. You think that this is going to be a springboard to bigger and better things. You held that championship for almost five months, and what kind of respect do you get? Nothing. You get the kind of respect that gets you put into the kind of room war prisoners would find cruel.”

 

Bloodshed continues to talk, all the while Wayne continues to move farther and farther away, but the bloody prophet doesn’t seem to mind, he’s used to it.

 

“Do you think it’s worth giving up all your blood, sweat, and tears in one half hour? A lifetime’s amount of devastation, pain, and torment rapped up in less time than one episode of American Idol. Think about it, those idiots are more famous than you, and they sing for five minutes a week. And you think this is worth it? YOU THINK THIS IS WORTH IT!!!??”

 

Bloodshed’s yell prompts the lights to once again drop out, causing another girly scream from Wayne. Through the darkness, Bloodshed’s voice can be heard one final time, calm…cool…and collected.

 

“Yes, it is worth it.”

 

The lights flicker back on, and once again Wayne is left alone. The only remnants of Bloodshed’s visit being the shakes and shivers of Wayne himself as he stands and head into the other room, visibly shaken from what he had just witnessed.

[chirs3 0]

"Well folks, after those bitterly-contested lower-card matches we now have a match that promises to be every bit as hard-fought," Mak Francis declares, "if... perhaps slightly sparser on the wrestling front."

 

"And do you know why that is, Mak?" Suicide King asks, "it's because Megan Skye is not a wrestler, she's a manager, and it's disgraceful for Joe Peters to be putting her in this situation... although given that she's now taken up with Landon Maddix again it does perhaps serve her right. On the other hand, her opponent is nothing more than an uncultured, sloppy brawler. What's more, despite the fact that Amy Stephens is the Hardcore Gamer's Champion they aren't even fighting in a Hardcore match, meaning that Amy can't pad her meagre offence out with weapon shots. This is going to be brutal, and not in the right way."

 

"I'm certainly not expecting a hold-for-hold technical masterpiece," the Franchise acknowledges, "but I expect both competitors to show heart, spirit-"

 

"-and preferably, their tits," King finishes.

 

"...it might help the entertainment value, I'll give you that."

 

With these opening comments out of the way the camera shot changes to show guest ring announcer R. Lee Emery standing in the middle of the ring with a microphone in hand.

 

"ATTEEEEEEEEEEEEEN-SHUN!"

 

*waaaaaaaaaaaaah*

 

*dum-dum*

 

...and 'Megalomaniac' by Incubus starts up, minus the 'Prepare For Landon' part. However, it turns out that this should not have been omitted, as coming through the curtains is none other than one of the two competitors in the World Title match later this evening! Landon looks around and smirks as the crowd start booing for all they're worth, but then extends one hand and beckons before Megan Skye emerges, clad in tight leather pants, a tight leather top and fingerless black gloves.

 

"Oooohhhh," King sighs, "enough to make me wish I was still Commissioner."

 

"THE FOLLOWING NON-TITLE CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL!" Emery bellows, "INTRODUCING FIRST, FROM PAWTUCKET, RHODE ISLAND..." he stops, looks at the index card, then up the ramp at Megan Skye. "PAWTUCKET? SOUNDS LIKE 'PAW TUFFET' TO ME, DO YOU WANT ME TO PAW YOUR TUFFET, HUH?"

 

Megan, halfway down the ramp and caught completely off-guard, shakes her head.

 

"RHODE ISLAND? JESUS! I SWEAR THEY JUST MADE THAT PLACE UP SO THEY COULD SET 'FAMILY GUY' THERE, YOU'RE TELLING ME IT'S REAL?" Emery continues, "WEIGHING IN AT 150lbs, BUT IT LOOKS TO ME LIKE IT'S A WHOLE LOT MORE, AND ACCOMPANIED TO THE RING BY SOME CISSY BOY WHO NEEDS A FUCKING HAIRCUT, THIS IS MEGAN SKYE!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Megan and Landon look at each other, sigh, and enter the ring. Once there the Toddess fires off a few practice kicks while Landon speaks to her in low and urgent tones, counselling her on the match ahead.

 

"I wouldn't listen to a word he has to say," King advises Megan, even though she can't hear him, "after all, what's he ever done?"

 

"Well, he won the World Title that one time," Mak puts in, doubtfully.

 

"Fluke."

 

"I'm not arguing with you."

 

After a few more seconds the crashing opening of 'Blitzkrieg Bop' by the Ramones kicks up across the stadium PA, and the crowd explodes! Amy Stephens makes her way out; HGC Title slung over one shoulder, barbed wire crown on her head and the ever-present can of Stella Artois lager in her hand. The Punk-Rock Princess stomps down the entrance ramp past the scenes of devastation and destruction around her, then climbs on top of what appears to be a burnt-out jeep and raises her beer high in the air to conduct the crowd in a Ramones sing-along!

 

"HEY! HO! LET'S GO!"

"HEY! HO! LET'S GO!"

"HEY! HO! LET'S GO!"

"HEY! HO! LET'S GO!"

 

With that out of the way Amy climbs down again and heads off to the ring, climbing under the bottom rope and then mounting the turnbuckle as R. Lee Emery raises his microphone again.

 

"AND HER OPPONENT, FROM NOTTING-HAM, ENG-ER-LAND, WEIGHING IN AT 171lbs; SHE IS THE SWF HARDCORE GAMER'S CHAMPION AN' MY GOD, I'VE NEVER SEEN AN ASS THAT BIG BEFORE, AMY STE-"

 

*crunch*

 

…and with that R. Lee Emery hits the deck, clutching at his face as Amy, who evidently didn't like the crack about the size of her backside, jumps down from the turnbuckles and delivers one of her signature headbutts to the unfortunate (if rather rude) ring announcer! Megan looks at Landon as if to say 'why didn't you do that?', then decides that it's best to follow her opponent's lead and attacks, kicking Amy in the back! The burns from the Boiler Room Brawl are evidently still tender and Amy lets out a yell of pain as Megan's leg catches her. Encouraged, the Toddess presses forward with her attack and lands another blow to the back, then one more, and as Amy tries to twist around to face her Megan waits for her and makes a 'come on then' motion with her hands before launching a high kick at Amy's head…

 

*thwap*

 

…but Amy raises one arm and almost casually blocks it, then simply lands a ringing slap across Megan's jaw that spins the blonde around and knocks her to her knees!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"And straight away, Megan displays her lack of ring knowledge," Mak says as Skye scrambles away on her hands and knees to take her out of range of Amy Stephens, "even with her kickboxing background she's not really going to be able to exchange blows with a streetfighter like Amy, the difference in size and strength is just too great - she needs to hit and run, and hope she can get a lucky shot in. Stephens' back and face have still got to be hurting from the Boiler Room Brawl, maybe that can give her a target."

 

"Mak, I think you're overestimating Megan's chances here," King contradicts his commentary partner, "I mean don't get me wrong, Megan is hotter than midday in Death Valley and Amy needs to quit pretending she can wrestle with the men and give Bruce's belt back to him. All the same, in a fight between a super-fit model who happens to be temporarily misguided enough to manage Landon Maddix, and an overweight, mouthy hooker who's trading off the fact that her older brother managed to win a few World Titles, Thunderthighs Stephens is going to come out on top."

 

"Don't take that image any further, King."

 

Megan has retreated to the corner where Landon is and seems to be seeking advice. However, La Cucaracha just shrugs as if to say 'well, you did attack her from behind'. Perhaps deciding that tactical advice from Landon Maddix isn't worth the oxygen used up to give it, Megan gets back to her feet and eyes her larger opponent warily. For her part Amy has her arms folded and appears to be regarding Megan with the same distaste as she would something squishy and pungent on one of her pink-and-black Vans. With the initial exchanges over with referee Brian Warner motions for the two women to get back fightin', and the crowd start to make their feelings known again.

 

"LET'S GO A-MY!"

 

"LET'S GO A-MY!"

 

As the support swells behind her Amy advances forward, givin' it some lip in the best traditions of Radford in Nottingham and basically telling Megan exactly what she plans on doing to her. Megan backs off uncertainly, then dashes in and fires off another kick… which Amy easily catches in both hands. Clearly deciding that she's not at risk of an enzuigiri Amy simply laughs for a second, then spins Megan around on one foot before clotheslining the blonde manager nearly out of her boots!

 

"Ohh, that's gonna hurt," King winces.

 

Megan seems to agree. The Toddess is on her back gasping for breath; not necessarily an unusual occurrence, but Landon Maddix isn't in the immediate vicinity at the moment. Instead he's on the outside looking concerned, and it's Amy Stephens who grabs Megan by the hair and hauls her back to her feet. Megan doesn't seem to be in much of a condition to offer up much resistance so Amy backs off a step, spins herself around this time and levels Megan with a Polish Hammer!

 

"We seem to be settling into a rhythm here," Mak comments as Amy reaches down and picks Megan up again while Skye covers her face with both hands, presumably as a result of the impact of both Amy's fists in it. However, Amy seems to decide it's time for a change of pace and grabs Megan's wrist, then Irish whips her opponent into the corner.

 

*BANG!*

 

Skye slams in backfirst and just manages to keep herself upright; this doesn't seem to be a great plan though, as Amy comes charging in after her with a clothesline that would probably have popped any implants in the thankfully all-natural Megan's chest! Megan looks like she's about to slump to the mat but Amy has other ideas; she grabs her opponent's hair for a little bit of unfair leverage (Brian Warner doesn't like it, but who ever cares what he thinks?) and climbs to the second turnbuckle in front of Megan, keeping the Toddess upright by said hair. Stephens then raises her right fist in the air and calls out to the crowd…

 

'BLITZKRIEG BOP!'

 

…and the crowd catch on remarkably quickly, singing along as Amy starts raining punches down!

 

"HEY!"

 

"HO!"

 

"LET'S!"

 

"GO!"

 

"HEY!"

 

"HO!"

 

"LET'S!"

 

"GO!"

 

Eight punches later and Amy finally allows Megan Skye to slump down into a semi-comatose sitting position at the base of the turnbuckles, then hops nimbly down and almost struts away, dusting her hands off! Landon Maddix rushes over to his manager and checks on her but Megan doesn't seem to be in any great shape to respond to La Cucaracha's concerns and just sits there. Amy turns around on the far side of the ring, slaps the lower area of her belly a couple of times and seems to be preparing for something… and Landon rolls into the ring!

 

"Oh-ho-ho," King chortles, "this should be interesting!"

 

Amy pulls up short the moment after she sets off on her run, surprised by her ex-boyfriend's arrival in the squared circle and clearly unsure of his intentions. Landon isn't acting threatening however; he simply places himself in front of Megan, holds his palms out towards Stephens and does the begging-off for his near-unconscious manager! Amy seems unimpressed by this, and lets Landon know in her own idiosyncratic vocabulary. Landon is clearly saying 'look, she's not cut out for this', to which Amy appears to be inviting Landon to throw in the towel on Megan's behalf… but Landon doesn't have a towel. Brian Warner is threatening Landon with a disqualification for Megan if he doesn't leave the ring, Landon seems completely unbothered by that, and so Amy takes matters into her own hands by grabbing Landon and hurling him out between the top and middle ropes!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Atta girl!" King yells in delight, "you show him!"

 

"I think she's about to show Megan something too," Mak notes in amusement as Amy backs off to her previous position. Sure enough she slaps her lower body again, then charges across the ring and leaves her feet to slam her crotch into Megan Skye's face with a Bronco Buster!

 

"MEG-AN LICKS!"

 

"MEG-AN LICKS!"

 

"MEG-AN LICKS!"

 

"Is that really necessary?" King asks in distaste as Amy finishes grinding her nether regions into her opponent's face and stands up to salute the crowd. Meanwhile Landon has regained his feet on the outside and looks very displeased at his ex's recent defenestrating actions, hops up to the ring apron…

 

…to be confronted by Amy Stephens, fists raised and waiting for him on the other side of the ropes.

 

"LAN-DON'S CHICK-EN!" *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

 

"LAN-DON'S CHICK-EN!" *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

 

La Cucaracha strips off his trenchcoat, seemingly getting ready for action, and actually throws it over the top rope into the ring where it lands partially on top of Megan. Amy beckons her ex-boyfriend into the ring and Landon is thinking about it… but then Brian Warner steps in the way and cuts Landon off. A few seconds of conversation and Maddix seems to calm down, he raises his hands apologetically to Amy and hops back down to the floor…

 

…and in those few seconds when everyone's distracted, Megan Skye reaches inside a pocket of Landon's coat and pulls something out which she secretes down her top. Landon instantly sees this and reaches out for his coat, but he's too late; Megan already has whatever it was, and when he pulls his coat back to him and goes through the pockets a rather uncomfortable expression comes over his face.

 

"What do you suppose is going on there, King?" Mak asks, "it looks to me like Landon doesn't want Megan to have that foreign object!"

 

"He probably wanted to use it on JJ Johnson later tonight," King opines, "and if Megan uses it it'll probably get confiscated."

 

"Or perhaps he doesn't want Megan to use it on Amy," Mak wonders, "perhaps Landon still thinks that he'll be able to charm Amy into coming back to him, which I severely doubt he will if Megan uses something of his to win the match!"

 

Neither Amy nor Brian Warner are aware of the events that have unfolded; however, as Amy grabs Megan to bring her up to her feet the blonde from Rhode Island manages to slam her palm into Amy's face, targeting the recently-broken nose and eliciting a shriek of pain!

 

"She should've done that sooner," King remarks.

 

"It's a cheap shot!" Mak protests.

 

"Cheap nothing," the Gambling Man fires back, "if you go into the ring with an injury you might as well paint a target on it!"

 

Megan seems to think so as well, and manages to stagger back to her feet then press forward, swinging right hands at Amy's face. For the moment Stephens is just covering up, then Megan decides to take things one step further and, pivoting on her left foot, slams her right foot up into Amy's head with a Chick Kick! Amy goes down and Megan, seeing an opportunity, dives for the cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

-but Amy kicks out just before two, her face evidently hurting but nowhere near ready to be beaten yet! Megan looks rather disappointed to say the least but wraps one hand around Amy's throat and squeezes for all she's worth!

 

'ONE!'

 

'TWO!'

 

'THREE!'

 

'FOUR!'

 

'FI-'

 

…and Megan shows that she can be as smart in the ring as she is conniving out of it, as she stops just before Brian Warner is about to disqualify her. However, the moment after she breaks the hold she starts it again!

 

'ONE!'

 

'TWO!'

 

'THREE!'

 

'FOUR!'

 

'FI-'

 

…and once more, she stops just in time!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

The fans are not pleased with this shift in momentum and are letting Megan know in no uncertain terms. However, this just encourages Landon's manager to rise to her feet, flip her hair and spread her arms lazily wide in an imitation of her client, drawing yet more heat…

 

…and behind her, Amy Stephens pushes herself off the ground. The Punk-Rock Princess doesn't look at all pleased anymore, and Megan Skye doesn't have a clue.

 

Which may explain the comical expression of surprise when Amy grabs her hair and hauls her backwards.

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Megan is flapping around as Amy tows her around the ring with the blonde desperately struggling to stay on her feet. Having had some small measure of revenge Amy then decides that enough is enough and wraps one arm around Megan's throat, ready to apply the Last Orders and end this farce… but Megan slams her hand backwards into Amy's nose again, causing the lager lass to spin away in pain! Skye breathes a sigh of relief (lucky to be breathing at all, really) and turns around to press her advantage…

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

…straight into a Facebreaker!

 

"LET'S GO A-MY!"

 

"LET'S GO A-MY!"

 

Amy Stephens shakes her head in angry pain as Landon clutches his in horror on the outside, and Megan slumps backwards to the mat where she curls up into a foetal position. A couple of seconds later Amy manages to shake off enough off the sting in her nose (not to mention the pain in her back from where she landed on it) to make the cover on Megan…

 

"This has gotta be it!" Mak exclaims…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Not quite," the Franchise barks, "but with her first cover Amy Stephens nearly wins the match!"

 

The Punk-Rock Princess grimaces at the lack of a three-count and gets off her opponent, then heads to a corner to take a quick breather while she waits for Megan to get up again. While she's there Amy suddenly becomes aware of a presence at her feet and looks down to see Landon Maddix there on the outside of the ring! Amy hastily skips away before Maddix can drag her underneath the ropes or something, but that doesn't seem to be on La Cucaracha's mind; instead he stage-whispers something, something that Amy doesn't hear over the crowd noise. Her face shows clear puzzlement, so Landon tries again:

 

"Look down her top!" he hisses.

 

"You what?"

 

"Look… down… her… top!" Maddix insists, hooking a finger down the neck of his own 'Cheat 2 Win' T-shirt to emphasise his point. Amy just looks at him for a second, then shakes her head and turns away.

 

"Fuckin' pervert…"

 

Landon realises that she hasn't quite caught his meaning and leaps up onto the ring apron to try and grab Amy's attention again… Brian Warner leaps in the way, barking at the former World Champion to get back down to the floor…

 

…and with the referee not paying attention and Amy thinking she has the match in her pocket, Megan Skye slips one hand down her top, slips her fingers through the pair of brass knuckles she palmed earlier, and turns around to catch Amy square on the jaw!

 

*WHAM!!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Megan Skye throws the knucks away and drops to cover. Landon Maddix looks aghast and holds his head in his hands as Brian Warner, realising that something has gone down, turns around to see what it is…

 

…and leaps to count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

"WHAT!?" King shrieks, leaping out of his seat in shock, "how… that was three! That had to be three! Megan used brass knuckles!"

 

"Perhaps, but she also hits like a girl!" Mak Francis answers gleefully, "and Amy Stephens has shown time and time again that she's tougher than anyone gives her credit for!"

 

Megan Skye is surprised, to say the least. She looks around hopefully for some other weapon, but she threw the knucks away to avoid incriminating herself, and nothing else presents itself. Finding this option lacking she instead decides to remonstrate with the referee, getting to her feet and yelling at Brian Warner. Warner seems to think that there's actually someone in the ring he can yell back at without getting his head taken off and even starts to back Megan up with his furious demands that she respect his authoritah~!…

 

…and on the outside, Landon Maddix sets his jaw. He rolls into the ring and waits for Amy to start pushing herself up. The Punk-Rock Princess make it up to all fours, then one knee…

 

…and Landon heaves a sigh of resignation before setting off across the ring, vaulting off his ex-girlfriend's knee and hitting the SHINING WIZARD~!

 

*CRACK!!*

 

Landon hits the mat rolling and is out of the ring in less than a second. Amy slumps back, the second powerful hit in under a minute almost knocking her clean out. Warner is certain that something illegal has gone on, but he didn't see it… and Megan dives past to make the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"HERE IS YOUR WINNER, THE DIRTY CHEATING BITCH, MEGAN SKYE!" R. Lee Emery bellows, drawing several cheers. However, the vast majority of the fans in attendance are booing their little hearts out, and Mak Francis would be joining them if he didn't have a job to do.

 

"Well, I think that's despicable," the Franchise says in distaste, "Landon was trying to play both sides of the field - I think he wanted it to look like he tried to stop Megan from winning by illegal means so he could still have a chance at Amy afterwards, but when those illegal means didn't work he showed his true colours and stepped in to make sure the result of the match favoured his manager!"

 

"Yeah, sure, whatever," King says, "has anyone told Megan about the tradition that all PPV winners have to take their tops off in celebration?"

 

"It doesn't look like it," Mak says, denied even this crumb of comfort.

 

Landon is helping Megan Skye out of the ring - with perhaps a little too much emphasis on supporting her breasts and ass, but it doesn't look like Megan minds - and La Cucaracha casts one last look back at his former girlfriend. It's fairly safe to say that she's not going to be interested in sleeping with him after he's kneed her in the face and caused her to lose a match to his manager.

 

Yeah, it's fairly safe to say that.

 

Ah well. You can't win 'em all.

[chirs3 0]

“Hello everybody, this is Benjamin Hardy,” the SWF interviewer cheerfully says, standing in front of a Battleground backdrop. “I’m here with one of the newest members of the SWF family in hopes of letting everyone find out a little more about this man, a man called Grendel!”

 

The camera pans over just slightly to the left of Hardy to reveal Grendel standing next to him. As expected, the ‘Spirit of Aggression’ is dressed for his match, and even has his signature weapon, his fork, resting against his shoulder. This is the first time an attempt to interview this new recruit and Hardy is delighted to be the first to take on that mission.

 

“So tell me, Hunter Rose is it?” Hardy questions the rookie, shoving a microphone in his face. Grendel, though, just responds with a simple nod of his head. Hardy looks a little disappointed but goes on after shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Alright, then,” he continues. “Hunter, since coming to the SWF we have seen you face and defeat Matt Myers, Ghost Machine 2.0, and Arch Griffon. We know that you’re capable of winning in a rather decisive fashion, but there is something else we want to know; what makes Grendel tick?” Hardy pauses only slightly, giving his subject no time to respond. “We want to know what kind of goals you’ve set for yourself here in the SWF. What do you ultimately hope to do in your tenure here?”

 

“Now, don’t get me wrong with all of my questions; so far everyone really likes what they’ve seen from you, we just want to know where you stand and where you want to go. Knowing all of that, Mr. Rose, what exactly it is that you, as a wrestling superstar, hope to achieve in the SWF?”

 

Once more Hardy shoves the microphone in Grendel’s face, and does it almost a little too eagerly. Grendel tilts his head to the side, looking Hardy over, and then leans in and says, “Redemption.” before turning and walking away.

 

Hardy is left with a puzzled look on his face. Finally, he turns back towards the camera and shrugs his shoulders. “You heard it here first, folks,” he says. “This is Ben Hardy and I’m out.”

[chirs3 0]

Battleground returns to ringside after a slight pause in the action-packed evening, but with a new look to the ring. Four, twenty foot tall scaffold structures have been erected from the floor, behind each ring post. Two steel cables, attached from the top of one steel scaffold to the next scaffold diagonally across the ring from it, form a giant ‘X’ high above the ring. In the center of this giant contraption, where the two steel cables cross paths, hangs the SWF Cruiserweight Championship belt. Finally, and after the rather boring delay from setting this match up, Edwin Starr’s anthem ‘War’ kicks up and the Jacksonville fans instantly ignite!

 

“…and as we prepare for our first epic battle of the night, the Air Raid match, the battlefield is already smoldering in the wake of our first four minor skirmishes!” exclaims ‘The Franchise’ Mak Francis, smiling with glee. “King, this match is not only a first for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship, but a first for the SWF!”

 

“Indeed it is, Mak,” King agrees. “Apparently Akira Kaibatsu decided that he was good enough to defend his title against three other men at once…and in a match that none of them has ever been in before, and that part doesn’t make much sense to me. I mean, I understand Akira wants to be known as a fighting Champion, but why put the belt on the line in a match that you’ve never been in; he’s not giving himself much of an advantage.”

 

“True, but none of the other three men have an advantage either,” Francis replies, while the Gambling Man takes a sip of his Frost Brand Bottled Water™. “If he’s going to defend in a stipulation type of situation the best thing he can do is drag something out that nobody is familiar with, thus the advantage has to go back into his corner from his momentum as Cruiserweight Champion.”

 

*Cough-hack-cough!* The Suicide King suddenly spews the water from his mouth, apparently chocking! Francis bolts up from his seat with a look of urgency. “Are you alright!?” he asks, patting King’s back!

 

King finally clears his throat, gently tapping his fingers against his chest before giving a reply to the Franchise. “Sorry, I’m just allergic to bullshit.”

 

“You, sorry sonouva…” Francis grumbles, sitting back down in his seat. “I didn’t see you trying to come up with anything for an explanation.”

 

“That’s because there is no way to spin a good tale out of this! Akira has just gotten to big for his boots!” snaps King. “Anyway, let’s send this over to Funyon who is standing by in the ring.”

 

A ring bell sounds to draw the fans attention to the ring where Funyon stands dressed in his Sunday best BDU’s with a helmet resting lopsided atop his head.

 

“Who the hell does he think he is?” mutters King. “Sgt. Rock?”

 

Funyon sorts through the stack of index cards in his hands. Once sorted he raises the microphone to his mouth and begins the introductions.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the AIR RAID MATCH for the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” Funyon booms to the roar of the crowd. “In this match there are no disqualifications. To win one of the four competitors must climb across the steel cables hanging over the ring and retrieve the SWF Cruiserweight Championship belt. Whoever does so will win the match and become the Champion! Should two or more competitors come down with the belt they would then be declared co-champions.”

 

“I’d like to also point out to our viewers at home that use of a ladder to fetch the belt is strictly prohibited,” notes Francis. “We have ladder matches to use those in.”

 

“Excellent observation there, Francis,” King mockingly chimes in. Before Suicide King can get another jab in, which he most certainly would if he could, the lights begin to slowly dim, coinciding with the opening line to Evanescence’s “Bring Me to Life”. A few pops can be heard, but a good majority of the fans are still undecided on whether or not they like this new wrestler. Still, the scene is intriguing to even those people. Lights that are lined up alongside the stage being a slow strobe - it’s reflection off the back walls are reminiscent of a lighting storm in the distance that is slowly approaching, and it moves in perfect harmony with the music. Finally, the song pauses for a single beat and…

 

“WAKE ME UP!”

 

…an entire row of pyros erupt alongside the stage as the songs chorus kicks in, summoning Grendel from backstage!

 

“Hailing from Manhattan, New York, and weighing in at 220lbs; he is ‘The Spirit of Aggression’ GGGGRRRRRRENDEL!”

 

“He’s dark, and he’s mysterious! He’s the man called Grendel!” Francis excitedly shouts as Hunter Rose strolls out onto the war-torn stage. “Unfortunately, we still don’t know much about this man or his motives so it’s a little hard for me to figure out where he stands in all of this.”

 

“Well, we know he’s seeking redemption.”

 

“He’s seeking redemption from what?” Francis wonders out loud. “He’s only been here for like, what, three shows!?”

 

“Hopefully he’s seeking redemption for a string of crappy matches by winning a title here tonight,” King smugly responds. “Other than that, who knows? Maybe, and quite possibly I could be on to something here,” King pauses; waving his finger like he’s really figured it all out. Francis’ eyes light up in anticipation for the Gambling Man’s earth shattering revelation, “but maybe he’s the Zodiac Killer!”

 

“Oh, come on! Get out of here!” Mak’s shoulders slump down in disappointment. As Grendel reaches the ring his music is quickly cut, replaced by Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill a Man”! The song triggers off a round of blue and white pyrotechnics that rocket towards the stratosphere, exploding high over the stadium to the “OOH’S” and “AHH’S” of the crowd!

 

“From Sydney, Australia, and weighing in at 223lbs; he is SSSSSSSSTRYYYYYKE!”

 

Stryke jogs down to the ring and slides in, under the bottom rope to take his bow to the fans. Like Grendel before him, his music is suddenly cut short as the lights in the arena go dark once more. Pitch black. A hush falls over the anxious fans at ringside whom haven’t seen this man in some time as a single spotlight shines down onto the stage at the beginning of the entrance ramp.

 

*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 seem to genuinely appreciate the obvious work that went into producing such a spectacle, and the arrival of Austin Sly is heralded with cheers!

 

“From St. Louis, Missouri, and weighing in at 220lbs…”

 

“He must have gotten that note the Cruiserweight Fairy left under his pillow, after all,” King says. Mak nods in agreement.

 

“Please welcome back to the SWF and the ring; the returning veteran AUUUSTIIIIIIN SLY!”

 

“Quite the ovation here for Austin Sly,” the Franchise notes. “He must have become a tremendous athlete since my last time in the ring, winning titles and matches left and right.”

 

“I couldn’t tell you the answer to that one, Francis,” says King, fumbling through some papers on the announcer’s desk. “I seemed to have lost my sheet on Austin Sly.”

 

“You can’t remember?”

 

“You know I don’t give a damn about anybody’s career or what they have done other than my own,” says King. Francis can only nod in agreement, knowing this is true.

 

Finally, Austin hits the ring. His fades and Wu-Tang Clan’s “Protect Ya Neck” hits to a wondrous pop! Akira Kaibatsu heads out from backstage with Mr. Kobe at his side. The string of success that Akira has had with the Cruiserweight Championship almost makes the lack of said belt around his waist a peculiar sight. It’s almost like he’s naked without the Cruiserweight belt. Nonetheless, Kaibatsu can easily leave with the belt and he knows it…or at least that’s what Mr. Kobe repeats to him over and over as they head down the ramp, towards the ring.

 

“From Sendai, Japan, and weighing in at 195lbs; he is your CURRENT, REIGNING, AND DEFENDING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION, AAAAAKIIIRAAAA KAIBATSUUU!”

 

“Well if you thought Austin got quite the ovation than this is probably deafening,” King says of the crowd reaction towards the Champion. “However, they’d probably be booing if they could put two and two together; realizing that Akira isn’t a fighting champion but a man looking to pad his stats in a four way against three curtain jerkers!”

 

“You’re really underestimating the talent involved with this match, King. If Akira can retain against three other guys who are all bigger and stronger than him than I say it will be a hard fought, and well earned victory.”

 

“Whatever you think, Francis,” King says with a dismissing wave of his hand. “With the ‘lack-of-talent’ on hand this match should carry on for a good fifteen minutes before any of them has figured out how to win.”

 

“On the contrary,” Francis responds. “I think this will be over in no more than ten minutes. These guys won’t beat around the bush. They’ll be gunning for the strap the moment the bell rings and it won’t take long before Akira gets it.”

 

“I bet you a dollar you’re wrong.”

 

“Your on,” Mak responds, shaking Kings hand to seal the deal as Akira slides into the ring, heads to the corner post, and pumps his arms to the crowd for another quick pop. Once he climbs back down, and all four of the men are inside the ring, the referee turns to the timekeeper and signals for the bell.

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

“There’s the bell and these competitors aren’t wasting a second!” Francis hollers as Stryke and Austin Sly suddenly rush Akira Kaibatsu from both sides, and begin pummeling the Cruiserweight Champion with fists and knees!

 

*CRACK!*

*SMACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

 

“What a bunch of cowardly bitches!” Mak Francis lividly shouts, “and why the heck is Grendel just standing there!?”

 

“Doing the smart thing and waiting it out,” replies King, but Hunter Rose doesn’t appear to be one who likes waiting too long as he picks his target and heads in. He grabs hold of Stryke by his arm and whips him around in an about-face-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and Grendel rifles his elbow into the Australian’s skull, rocking his head back! Austin sees the sneak attack by Rose out of the corner of his eye and decides not to let Stryke’s fate be his as well. However, Grendel doesn’t put his focus entirely on Stryke. The moment the Australian stumbles back from the initial blow is the moment that Grendel moves to his next target, Austin Sly. He swiftly moves over towards Sly just as Austin himself jumps back to his feet, ready for the fourth man in this match. Austin swings his fists as does Grendel, and the two competitors, standing toe-to-toe, begin trading blows to the delight of the crowd!

 

*CRACK!*

*SMACK!*

*CRACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*CRACK!*

 

“Good God! These guys are going to kill each other before they can even think about going for the belt,” says Francis. Austin nails Grendel square in the jaw, but before Hunter Rose has his chance to reply in kind he gets a boot to the gut courtesy of Stryke, and it catches him by complete surprise! Grendel doubles over and drops to his knees as Austin lifts up his leg, fully intending on stomping Rose’s cranium with the heel of his boot, but with Sly supporting all his weight on one foot he becomes to easy of a target to pass up, and Stryke easily lariats him onto his back!

 

“So much for the apparent truce by these two,” notes King. “Austin Sly put himself in a precarious position and Stryke couldn’t resist; now it’s clearly everyman for himself.”

 

“As well as it should be,” Francis adds. “There’s no room in this match for team ups unless one of them wants to share the Cruiserweight Championship.”

 

Austin lies on his back, clasping his neck with both hands as Stryke pulls Grendel up by one arm then steps forward, whipping Hunter across the ring-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and into the corner post! Grendel hits back-first then stumbles out of the corner with one hand gingerly massaging his back, only to have Stryke grab him once more to whip him to the opposite corner! Near the intended destination of Grendel, Akira is up to his knees. When he looks up and sees Hunter Rose aimlessly rocketing towards him he suddenly jumps up-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and levels the Rookie with a jumping drop kick to the noggin! The move ferociously tosses Grendel to the mat but with his momentum coming forward he is sent skidding past Akira and only stops short of falling out of the ring. Grendel’s brains are scrambled just enough for the time being that he can’t even reach up to grab the bottom rope that he is lying sideways underneath and finally, he drops to the outside floor like a sack of potatoes! “What a move by Akira Kaibatsu!” exclaims Francis. “We thought he might be done there for a second but he comes back…and comes back packing a wallop!”

 

Akira never stopped after delivering the jaw-dropping drop kick to Grendel. Instead he quickly pops back up to a vertical base and charges towards Stryke, and looking quite steamed as he does so! Looking for a second possible lariat, Stryke swings his arm out once more, but Kaibatsu ducks under the arm as he continues to the ropes behind the Australian. He hits the ropes and springs back off them, back towards Stryke, and goes airborne feet-first! Akira sails through the air like a torpedo and sinks his feet deep into the Australian’s chest, just as he does an about-face towards the Cruiserweight Champion! Now it’s Stryke’s turn to find himself staring up at the lights. “He’s just fortunate enough to be caught in this position when there are no pinfalls,” says King, “for his night as well as his hopes of winning the Cruiserweight Championship would have surely been out the door.”

 

“It still might be,” Francis replies as he and everyone else watching sees Akira wasting no time to try and make his way up the corner post to ultimately climb the scaffolds on his way to retrieving his belt. He’d probably make it to if it weren’t for Austin Sly. Akira barely steps both feet onto the top rope when Sly swoops in from behind and hammers the Champion in the back with his clubbed fists, stopping Kaibatsu dead in his tracks! Akira cringes from the stinging sensation which immobilizes him just long enough for Sly to climb up the turnbuckle behind Kaibatsu, grab around his waist-

 

*WHACK!*

 

-and tear him off the top of the post, to the canvas below, with a top rope belly-to-back suplex!

 

“Oh my God!” shrieks Mak Francis as Akira is powerfully driven into the mat by his Challenger. “Akira is really going to live up to the ‘fighting champion’ moniker if he can take this kind of punishment and still retain.”

 

“He hasn’t retained squat, yet, and if he leaves himself open to those kinds of moves he most definitely won’t,” King says. Sly leaves the Champion on the mat to take in this painful moment alone, but not before grabbing Akira by his foot to drag him directly underneath the belt.

 

“Get a load of this,” says King, half snickering. “Austin Sly is going to make sure that Akira watches him take the Cruiserweight Championship as Kaibatsu watches, unable to do anything about it.”

 

“And what a noble gesture that would be,” Francis sarcastically adds. The situation might even come to pass, or at least it’d have more of a chance of happening if there weren’t two other men in this bout that are just as set on retrieving the belt as Austin Sly is. For now, though, it’s Stryke who will stand in the way of Austin and Cruiserweight gold, and he catches Sly with an elbow to the jaw! The initial shot is more of a wake up call than anything painful; Stryke sending out a reminder to Austin and the rest not to ‘forget about him’. Austin’s head is knocked to the side and he snaps it back around towards his opponent-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-only to receive a backhand across his cheek which serves as the final warning shot by the big Aussie as he starts plowing into Sly with a barrage of fists. Stryke backs Austin into the ropes with his hits and then takes Sly by the arm and whips him across the ring. The St. Louis Superstar goes towards the ropes from his uncontrolled push and when he hits the ropes another man who also wants to make sure he isn’t forgotten about makes his reappearance known. Grendel, standing outside the ring, quickly reaches up and grabs the top rope as Austin hits it, pulling it down to cause Sly to tumble right over the top rope, to the floor below face-first! He hits the thinly padded mat that covers the concrete floor with a tremendous thud and the fans let out an “OOH!” at painful to watch landing!

 

“Talk about being in the right place at the right time. Grendel didn’t even know Austin was headed his way, but when he saw him he made a split-second reaction to gain the advantage.”

 

“Well his advantage is about to put him at a disadvantage,” King adds as Grendel then hops up to the outside apron and as he does, and unknown to him, Stryke charges across the ring towards him like a massive wrecking ball and then dives over the top rope, somersaulting over Hunter Rose and grabbing him by his midsection for a sunset flip! The crowd roars at the sight but Grendel holds on to the top rope tightly, though, keeping Stryke from completing his sunset flip. Even still, Stryke with his hands still grabbing onto Grendel’s sides tries to complete the move until Hunter Rose stomps the Australian in the chest! Grendel lays his foot into Stryke three consecutive times before he finally lets go of Hunter’s sides and when he finally lets go, Grendel leaps up and drops his leg across Stryke’s head, on the apron, to send him packing! After all this, even letting out a breath of relief would be a deadly decision for Hunter Rose, as the moment he gets back to a vertical base on the apron Akira comes charging with a baseball slide-

 

“-but nobody’s home!” the Franchise shouts when Grendel leaps up and Akira slides right past him and out of the ring, landing on his ass in quite the embarrassing fashion. “Grendel was able to narrowly avoid another disaster to him, leaping over the top rope and landing back inside the ring!”

 

As not to wind up too embarrassed, Akira quickly gets back onto his feet though he can’t keep his hand from gingerly massaging his rear with the stinging blow it took. When he peers back towards the ring is when Hunter Rose, actually perched on the top rope, leaps off the rope towards Kaibatsu, snags the Champion by the neck with his legs and sends him tumbling end over end, across the outside floor with a hurricaneranna!

 

“WHAT A MANEUVER~!” Mak Francis, leaping to his feet, shouts in awe of the exchange as the crowd lets out a thunderous cheer before starting a “HOLY SHIT” chant. “In a simple matter of seconds, Grendel, who was about to be an after thought in this match, has put all three of his opponents out on the floor! If I didn’t know any better I’d say it looks like a train wreck with all the bodies scattered about.”

 

“It’s a train wreck of a match, that’s for sure,” King snidely adds, “but now Grendel has a clear shot at getting the title down.”

 

King could never be more right and it’s exactly what Hunter Rose’s next planned move is. He strolls alongside the outside ring apron, towards one of the four giant scaffold towers, and begins to climb. The crowd begins to cheer for the first real shot at someone grabbing the title.

 

“And with all the other competitors stretched out on the outside floor, there may, in fact, be nobody to put a stop to this attempt,” Francis notes. Grendel reaches the top of his ascent and grabs on to the steel cables to make his way, hand-over-hand towards the belt dangling in the center. He’s a little slow at first, somewhat shaky about these cables holding up with his weight pulling them down, but it holds in the end and he inches closer towards the center.

 

“Well this could wind up being a rather quick match,” King says, somewhat worried about this high-caliber match being done before ten minutes is up. “Grendel is getting closer to the belt and there still isn’t any one in there to stop him.”

 

He won’t get much further before one of his opponents starts crawling back in the ring, and this opponent happens to be Austin Sly.

 

“You may have spoken a little too soon there, King! If Austin can get in there quick enough he may have a chance!”

 

It doesn’t appear likely, though. The crowd seeing that Hunter Rose is within reach of the belt stirs up some cheers, but those cheers seem to actually get Austin moving faster!

 

“Hurry up you pathetic, lazy bastard!” snarls King.

 

Austin quickly pulls himself together and up to his feet then darts towards the center of the ring. Austin’s first few steps are rather lanky but then he starts to move more briskly as Grendel reaches out with one hand for the belt and-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-Austin leaps up and dives towards Hunter, catching him in the kneecaps with a shoulderblock! The sudden hit forces Grendel to loose his concentration and his hands slip from the steel cables, sending him to the mat on his back, from a ten foot drop!

 

“Another second more and Grendel would have been the new Cruiserweight Champion,” the Gambling man says, looking at his watch to check the match time and then letting out a breath of relief. “Talk about impeccable timing by Austin Sly there!”

 

“To bad your only concern there is if the match goes longer than ten minutes,” says Francis. “I never should have taken that bet.”

 

“Even if it hadn’t your prediction was for Akira to fetch the belt not Grendel. Thus, you would have still lost.”

 

Austin leaves Grendel on the mat with a parting kick to the ribs, and then decides it is time for him to take fate into his hands. It’s time for Austin Sly to become the new Cruiserweight Champion! He heads towards the edge of the ring and climbs the turnbuckle, then the scaffold, but with all the time that has passed it won’t be a free ride for him. Stryke slides back into the ring and heads for an opposite post just as Austin starts to head out on the cables towards the belt. Stryke knows he doesn’t have enough time to climb the scaffolds and still save the moment for himself so once he reaches the top of the post he turns towards the inside of the ring…and leaps for the cables!

 

“A brave move by Stryke; he could have easily slipped,” Francis notes. However, Stryke is able to grab hold of the cables without slipping off and he as well as Austin starts heading towards the center from opposite ends. Austin Sly actually gets to the center before Stryke but he can see how close the big Aussie is and he knows that the second he even thinks about reaching out to grab the belt Stryke will be there to thwart his attempt…and so Austin heads past the belt and meets Stryke on his way to the belt.

 

“Looks like we might be in for a game of chicken,” Suicide King says when the two start swinging there legs out, trying to kick the other man from the top. Austin swings himself back and then forward, getting enough momentum to get his feet up high and he grabs Stryke around his neck. “Or maybe a Hurricaneranna from the top,” King finishes.

 

However, if that was what Austin had in his mind it’s not the course of action that becomes a reality. When Austin grabs around Stryke’s head the man from down under quickly lets go of the ropes, grabbing Austin by his waist-

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

-AND STRYKE PULLS AUSTIN DOWN FROM THE TOP TO POWERBOMB HIM INTO THE CANVAS, TEN FEET BELOW!

 

“OH MY GAWD!” King shouts, using his best Joey Styles impersonation as his eyes widen with surprise, and the fans join him with a chant of those very same words.

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

 

“I don’t believe I have ever seen a powerbomb done like that before,” King continues

 

“None of us has because this match has never been done before,” says Francis, jabbing his co-announcer with his elbow. “I think we are all surprised with that vicious move!”

 

Stryke and Austin both lie on the mat now, Austin obviously in a world of pain after such a move and Stryke not feeling too much better either having taken the fall as well, while the crowd all around them roars with cheers and begs for more! On the outside of the ring, Akira Kaibatsu can only watch in shock having see the devastating powerbomb carried out…but his awe is soon replaced by a realization that he now has an opportunity to snatch his belongings.

 

“The opening is now all there for Akira to reclaim his belt,” the Franchise says while Akira starts climbing up one of the various posts to get to the scaffolding. However, he won’t get up there without having to fight for the right to get to the top as Grendel moves back in on the Champion! Grendel climbs up the side of the scaffolding from the outside floor, tossing a few jabs at Akira as he gets to the side of him. The crowd watches, biting their lips in anticipation for this high rise(read: five feet above the floor) battle!

 

“Akira takes the first few shots from Hunter Rose but then he kicks a foot at his Challenger,” reports Francis. Grendel almost looses his grip on the side of the scaffold but he quickly scrambles to regain his holding, not wanting to risk a fall to the floor. That might be harder to avoid than he had originally hoped for though, for in his panic to grab onto the structure Akira moves just close enough to grab Hunter by the back of his head-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and Akira smashes Rose’s forehead into the side of the steel scaffolding, sending Grendel bouncing off the structure to the floor below!

 

“This time Akira remains in control after swatting Grendel away like a fly!”

 

The crowd cheers the exchange and especially the fall. Akira simply watches until Grendel hits the floor and then heads up top and moves out onto the cables. However, to make sure that he can hold on to the cables, and really to make sure his hands don’t slip, Akira kicks his legs up and around the steel cables. He carefully hooks his right leg around and then under the cable, securing himself in quite the brilliant fashion before pulling himself towards his title belt. Unfortunately, his little setup has cost him some valuable time and once he starts shimmying his way across the top, Stryke is back up and a moment away from being onto the cables himself!

 

“It looks like Stryke is becoming the perennial man to ‘keep this match going’ by putting a stop to someone attempting to retrieve the belt for the second time now,” Francis notes. Stryke leaps from the corner post again and like beforehand he grabs on with ease.

 

“Maybe next time we should make the cables a little higher so you can’t just leap from the turnbuckle to grab on,” says King. “I mean, hell, what’s to stop a tall, skinny man from just jumping from the ropes and grabbing the belt itself?”

 

“Well, given the fact that none of these guys are really tall enough to grab the belt like that,” the Franchise replies. “If the belt were hanging a little lower I might agree with you, but it’s not…so I don’t.”

 

Akira tries to pull himself across the top as quick as possible, but Stryke is gaining ground and gaining it fast. Stryke gracefully moves across the top swinging hand-over-hand.

 

“Akira better hurry up if he wants to actually retain his belt; here comes Stryke!” Francis shouts, excited by the surefire confrontation between the two. The two men reach near the center about the same time, looking the other dead in the eyes, and then Kaibatsu tries to reach out and grab his belt but the Australian uses one hand to slap Akira’s away while holding tightly to the cables with his other hand. Finally, Akira lets go of the cables by hand, using his leg hooked around it to support him instead, which leaves him hanging upside down. It also leaves his hands free to put the hurting on Stryke who can’t fight back without falling and the Cruiserweight Champion swings his fist out at Stryke’s stomach! Stryke winces after taking a couple of pop shots to his midsection. He knows that he can’t hold on much longer while Akira takes shot after shot. Wisely, the Australian swings himself back and then comes forward with enough steam behind him to get his foot up-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and Stryke nails Akira Kaibatsu flat in the face with the sole of his boot and the crowd lets out a cheer for the move! It’s just too bad that Stryke can no longer keep his grip on the cables. He drops to the mat, but in doing so he can at least feel safe in the fact that he’s disable Akira for a few seconds as the Champion is left dangling upside down, reeling from the head shot!

 

“That kick just knocked the hell out of Akira and he’s got himself caught with his leg wrapped around that cable!” Mak shouts, panicking from the sight. “We’ve got to get some help out here fast; if Akira falls he’ll land headfirst!”

 

“If Stryke was smart he’d grab a table and set it up underneath Akira,” adds King. “What this match is definitely missing is someone going through a table…and going through head-first, no less.”

 

“Yeah, as if this weren’t a dangerous enough match, let’s kill someone too!”

 

No table comes into Stryke’s mind, though but rather getting himself back up top and grabbing the belt that is destined to be his! He heads off towards the corner, not even noticing Austin Sly getting back up until the St. Louis native staggers in and clubs him in the back with his fist! Another wake up call no doubt; if Stryke wasn’t aware of Austin beforehand he certainly is now and he powers back, recklessly swinging a wild elbow back! It cracks Austin right in the temple but Sly doesn’t let the shot faze him. He’s to intent on putting the Australian out of contention for this match! Austin buries his knuckles into Stryke’s forehead with such force that it sends the Australian’s head rocking back, but Stryke isn’t about to take shots from this son of a bitch and he fires off one of his own!

 

“These two have begun trading shot for shot once more,” the Franchise frantically reports, “while seemingly ignoring the fact that Akira is caught up top!”

 

The two announcers glance up towards the top where Akira is caught on. He lifelessly hangs from the steel cables, gently swaying back and forth. Every second could be his last and the crowd watches in petrified horror, clasping their hands over their mouths!

 

“Ah, What do they care if he falls or not?” King finally asks, shaking his head at his partner’s ignorance. Austin grabs Stryke by the arm and attempts to whip him across the ring, but Stryke being one of the strongest cruiserweights around easily reverses the situation, sending Austin Sly for the ride instead! The Missouri All-Star heads across the ring, not to the ropes though, but the corner post, and he hits it hard! Austin pulls himself off the post and a hand clutches his throbbing chest before reminding himself that he has no time to think about the pain right now, especially not when he hears a rumbling sound coming across the ring which is sure to be Stryke charging in. A quick over-the-shoulder glance confirms his suspicions and Austin quickly darts out of the way, just as the Australian leaps into the air, looking for an avalanche (which by all intents and purposes he does get the avalanche off…just not connecting with Sly in the process!)

 

“Oh!” Francis winces at the impact of Stryke landing chest-first into the top of the turnbuckle! Stryke pops off the post and staggers backward…then gets thrusts back forward by Austin Sly. Austin grabs Stryke by the back of his head and slings the Australian’s skull into the top of the post!

 

*WHACK!*

 

Stryke’s head bounces off the post like a baseball off a bat, and his body goes flying backward and into the mat, landing in a messy heap!

 

“Austin has really reversed the situation on Stryke and he just may have completely put him out of the match,” says King. Stryke, lying face up on the mat and completely stunned out of his mind makes quite the open target for someone’s hard hitting move. This one will belong to Austin Sly. He rushes towards the ropes nearest to Stryke and leaps to the middle rope before back flipping off, into the ring, and crashing into Stryke with a, “Sky Surfer!” Stryke writhes back and forth in pain and rolls himself underneath the bottom rope and out of the ring.

 

“Austin has really put the nail in Stryke’s coffin now!” cheers Suicide King while Mak’s attention remains focused on Akira.

 

“I don’t know how you could even be bothered to watch that exchange when somebody could permanently injure themselves here,” says the Franchise, looking a little steamed at the Gambling Man’s lack of concern. “Wait! I think Akira is coming back to his senses!”

 

Up top, Akira does appear to have somehow gathered his bearings; at least the ones that didn’t fall to the mat and roll away. Akira’s eyes widen as he realizes the predicament that he’s gotten himself into. He reaches up to try and carefully unravel his leg from around the cable, but then stops when he realizes he hasn’t even checked on the belt! It’s his whole reason for being here and he didn’t even think to make sure some other schmuck had grabbed it yet! He looks back to the center and is quite relieved to see his belt still there, gently swaying back and forth, and gleaming in the lights hanging over the ring. It’s his for the taking!

 

“Well he’d better damn well get it fast because Austin Sly is on the move,” the Suicide King reports. Austin, like Stryke before him, heads across the top rather briskly, moving hand-over-hand towards the center to the cheer of thousands! Akira knows that he has got to act quickly or the belt will be gone, and he quickly swings himself up and grabs onto the cables by hand, finally getting himself back to an upright, yet hanging position, and when Austin gets just close enough-

 

 

*WHACK!*

 

 

-Akira kicks his leg from off the cables, sending him swinging towards Austin like a giant pendulum! All Austin can do is watch in shock as two boots coming soaring towards him, cracking him square in the face and sending him on a dark descent to the ring below!

 

“What a hit!” Francis shouts before wincing once more when Sly hits the mat at full force from the sheer vertical drop. Fans all over the stadium stand to their feet cheering loudly, which brings a smile to Kaibatsu’s face. He knows that he has done it! Akira happily moves himself back towards the belt…

 

“Akira’s going to get the belt after all! I knew he’d be able to go into this match and come out a ‘Fighting Champion’,” Mak happily sings. “I’m just amazed at how quickly the body count added up.”

 

“Body count?” King questions. “I see three and one of them is hanging from the top like a jackass tree monkey.”

 

That ‘Tree Monkey’ as King so eloquently put it is THIS close to successfully defending his belt once again.

 

“What do you mean three?” Francis responds to Suicide King’s statement. “Let’s see, Stryke is outside the ring and he doesn’t look to be moving…”

 

Akira Kaibatsu’s goal of becoming the Champion with the most defenses might actually become a reality if nights like tonight continue for this young Cruiserweight Champion of the World!

 

“Austin Sly is sprawled on the canvas…”

 

Finally, Akira reaches out and grabs the, no his Cruiserweight belt-

 

“Gre…Oh, wait, look! Akira’s got the belt!” exclaims Mak Francis.

 

-He carefully unhooks the title from the cables, and it’s a little harder than you might think with one hand. The fans are roaring out with an absolutely thunderous cheer now-

 

Grendel gets to the ring apron, but with all eyes, and that means everyone in the stadium’s eyes glued to Akira he goes unnoticed...

 

-And Akira Kaibatsu pulls the belt off the cables, finally having it back in his possession. Once more the Cruiserweight Championship-

 

“YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“What the!?”

 

-will change hands! Grendel, from the top rope, leaps towards Akira just as he pulls the belt down and actually snatches it out of Kaibatsu’s hands! The entire stadium goes wild for the tactic, and Hunter Rose rolls into his landing on the canvas then pops up to his feet with the belt in his hand! The referee, who’s finally got something to do, calls that Grendel has landing on the mat first with the belt in hand and calls for the bell!

 

DING DING DING!!

 

“Son of a…” King mutters, who is more surprised than anything. “Is that even legal? Akira already pulled the belt down.”

 

“That he did, but the rules state that whoever comes down with the belt with their feet touching the mat is the winner,” Francis states. “Akira may have fetched the belt but he didn’t come down with it, Grendel did, and in doing so he has ended Akira Kaibatsu’s reign.”

 

“The winner of this match,” Funyon booms over the din of the crowd, “and the NEW SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION; GRRRRREENDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL!”

 

“What a cheap win,” grumbles King. “This isn’t how you redeem yourself!”

 

“You can’t blame Hunter Rose for taking the chance that he did. Akira should have grabbed the belt and dropped instead of dangling the belt out for someone else to snatch it away from him,” the Franchis says. “Grendel came out on top with a smart and well-timed move. Kudos to him, says I.”

 

“Oh shut the hell up, and you owe me a dollar by the way,” the Gambling Man reminds Francis. Inside the ring, Grendel raises his newly won title out to the fans who are all showering him with support; for a job well done. Akira can’t even watch and he angrily marches away from the ring towards backstage.

 

“Well there you have it, folks. Grendel is your new Cruiserweight Champion but it doesn’t stop there,” the Franchise coolly says, “we’ve still got two more titles to decide tonight!”

 

“At least the other ones require a pin to win,” King adds as a parting remark before the show moves to a new section to give SWF ring people ample time to rework the ring.

[chirs3 0]

After an extended hype promo for the release of the 2005 PPV ultra swank, oak box DVD set we return to the ring where the ring crew are busy like little beavers on LSD erecting (not like that) the Caribbean Spider Web barbwire nets, stringing out the light tubes and well carrying enough furniture and hardware to the ring to start up a decent sized junkyard. It can of course only really mean one thing.

 

PANDEMONIUM!!

 

Both the Suicide King and the wheelchair bound Mak Francis are both located up the aisle and a bit to the right to hopefully keep them out of harms of the sheer mayhem that is about to break out in the middle of the ring. King rubs his hands in anticipation, he's always enjoyed a good beating. . . when administered to others. Mak on the other hand doesn't rub anything because. . . well he can't thanks to Spike (Thank you Spike). Only one man is brave enough to duck and weave his way through the weapons and tables and light tubes to enter the ring, the golden throat himself: Funyon.

 

"The following match is a thirty minute Iron Man match contested in. . . " Funyon starts out and then looks around at everything around him and then just shakes his head "Well you guys can see it, it can only be PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMONIUM!!" Funyon adds in his usual flamboyant manner

 

"Introducing first"

 

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

 

IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!!

 

Funyon's introduction of the Ill One from Easton, Pennsylvania is totally drowned out by the cheering, stomping and applauding of the over 70.000 fans in attendance. They are so loud that King doesn't even bother to talk over the ovation but just sits there and jabs toothpicks in Mak's leg to see if he can feel anything.

 

The chants intensify as the Insane Luchador steps through the "war scarred" curtains ready for what may very well be the nastiest war of his career. Rickmen looks like he's ready for anything that Bruce can come up with as he walks out through the curtains in camouflage pants, heavy duty combat boots, machinegun belt wrapped around his waist, an open flack jacket on and a helmet on his head just in case Bruce tried to drop something on his head on the way to the ring.

 

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHH!!*

 

"I'm the man in the box

buried in my shit

won't you come and save me save me"

 

The Insane Luchador stands on the stage, looking at the set, looking up at the fake watch tower that has been erected as part of the "American Amy camp" look around the entrance, then he raises his hand and points to it with a wicket grin.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

 

"Feed my eyes can you sew them shut

Jesus Christ deny your maker

he who tries will be wasted

feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut"

 

Rickmen then holds up his lighttube sword Excalibur that has been given a layer of gold paint for the occasion and waves it in the air like King Richard waving it's namesake on the battlefield.

 

IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!!

 

"I'm the dog who gets beat

shove my nose in shit

won't you come and save me"

 

Insane Luchador begins to walk towards the ring and all the hardware scattered around it with "Man in a Box" blaring over the speakers and the fans chanting his name at the top of their lungs, it's apparently okay to be psychopathic as long as you direct your violent tendencies towards someone the crowd hates.

 

"It's hard to believe that this all started with some off handed comment by Bruce" King says as he marvels at the intensity in IL's eyes.

 

"Oh don't give me that, it started with a total lack of respect for Insane Luchador, it'll end with Bruce on the ground, battered, bloody and beaten" Mak replies.

 

About half way down the aisle IL pulls out a small red plastic bottle from one of the pockets in his pants, pops the nozzle open on it and then begins to douse Excalibur with the liquid.

 

"That's lighter fluid!" King says with horror as he reads the label on the bottle "This guy is certifiable!!"

 

"Feed my eyes can you sew them shut

Jesus Christ deny your maker

he who tries will be wasted

feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut"

 

Once the Ill One is at ringside he tosses the still over half full bottle of lighter over his shoulder and then enters the ring with the now flammable lighttube sword still in his hand. He takes a look at the barbwire tables leaned up against the corners and then at the Caribbean Spider Webs strung up on two of the sides of the ring and then nods in approval, it seems to be just the way he wants it.

 

"And his opponent" Funyon starts, hoping to get in more of the introduction this time "From Mobile Alaba-"

 

WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!!

 

But that's all he gets to say before the hostile crowd drowns him out once more. As the crowd chants white smoke begins to billow out from around the entrance ramp and has soon engulfed the entire "camp" set in a low lying fog.

 

Then

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*THU!*

 

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!!*

 

"I AM IRON MAN"

 

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!!*

 

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!!*

 

*DAH-DAH-DAH-DAH-DAAAH-DANANANANA-NA-NADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!*

 

*DAH-DAH-DAH-DAH-DAAAH-DANANANANA-NA-NADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!*

 

"What in the world?" Mak Francis asks as the rock classic "Iron Man" plays heralding the entrance of – well who the hell knows?

 

"Maybe Bruce got sick on the way to the arena? Or he took a wrong turn" King adds thinking back to the previous encounters with Insane Luchador that Bruce has ducked out of.

 

"Has he lost his mind?

Can he see or is he blind?

Can he walk at all,

Or if he moves will he fall?"

 

The curtains part and the headlight of a Harley Davidson Motorcycle shines through the low lying mist while the engine roars to life. The bike slowly pulls into the arena, being driven by a "respectable gentleman" from the local chapter of the Hell's Angels with a man on the back of the bike that we can only assume is Bruce Blank.

 

But the fans aren't sure as it's definitely not the normal jeans & shirt clad redneck, but rather something out of an 80ties post nuclear apocalypse horror movie. Standing up behind the driver the massive Bruce has his arms spread out to the side making the shoulder pad / harness he's wearing an even more impressive visual with the skulls and long spikes and dangling chains and jagged edges and other ghoulish implements. Along with the shoulder pads Bruce is also wearing a black helmet with a spiked ridge and smoke billowing out from the ears to give the audience that true "Mad Max" feeling.

 

"Is he alive or dead?

Has he thoughts within his head?

We'll just pass him there

Why should we even care?"

 

"That's not Blank, it's another one of his tricks" Mak says with confidence

 

"Man you're going to look really stupid when he takes the helmet off and shows his face. . . well stupider" King replies

 

The Motorcycle slowly heads towards the ring as the Insane Luchador stands in the ring, looking at the monstrous sight coming towards the ring. Once the bike stops Bruce steps off the back of the bike, planting his metal plated biker boots solidly on the ground, clenches his black tape covered fists and raises them in the air.

 

In the background we see the ring crew come out and place the C4 covered boards over the entrance to keep anyone from escaping the match and then Janus steps out in his "Head of Security" shirt with a remote control in one hand ready to set off the charges if Bruce should try and escape the arena.

 

"He was turned to steel

In the great magnetic field

Where he traveled time

For the future of mankind"

 

"This is awesome, Bruce has turned himself into a walking, breathing weapon" King beams "Look at the spikes, look at the chains and sharp edges just begging to be used on someone and that someone is DEFINITLY the Insane Luchador"

 

"Oh come on don't tell me it'll be allowed" Francis complains as the big man slowly walks up the ring steps.

 

"Why not? It's Pandemonium!!" King replies with a smile.

 

Once Bruce is up on the apron the fans get a clear view of what he's wearing down to the last tattered piece of fabric and the sharp spikes jutting out every-which-way you can think of.

 

"Nobody wants him

He just stares at the world

Planning his vengeance

That he will soon unfold"

 

After Bruce steps over the top rope into the ring a couple of the ring workers add the last of the light tubes to that side of the ring enclosing the two combatants in the ring. Insane Luchador doesn't flinch, he doesn't take a step back he just stands there and stares at Bruce in disbelief.

 

"You know I think the Inner Warrior that Bruce found wasn't of the Ultimate variety" the Suicide King quips.

 

Bruce reaches up and slowly removes the helmet revealing that his transformation hasn't been restricted to just his clothes, his long mullet has been shaved down into a Mohawk and his face has been painted in black and blue and red complete with spider webbing and a large red harlequin symbol over one eye.

 

"Oh you don't think so? You saying this is sane?" Mak replies to King's "Ultimate Warrior" comment

 

"Hell no it's not sane – and I love it" King replies.

 

"Now the time is here

For iron man to spread fear

Vengeance from the grave

Kills the people he once saved"

 

Bruce tosses his helmet to referee Ced Ordonez who has the unenviable task of trying to keep control of this match. The second Ced turns his back to Bruce and IL to get rid of the ghoulish looking helmet the big man rushes at Insane Luchador hoping to catch his opponent off guard before the bell has even rung.

 

"Nobody wants him

They just turn their heads

Nobody helps him

Now he has his revenge"

 

IL deftly ducks under the spikes and chains of Bruce's shoulder pads and the goes to attack him, but stops in his tracks as the back of the shoulder pads is covered with long sharp spikes as well – he may be insane but he's not going to hurt himself unless it hurts Bruce worse in the process.

 

* DING!*DING!*DING!*DING!*

 

"And the clock has started to count, 30 minutes of total mayhem and agony and I LOVE it" King says with a grin as he slaps Mak on the shoulder knocking him half way out of the wheelchair

 

"Woops"

 

Bruce just can't contain a deep, maniacal laugh as he chases Insane Luchador around the ring lunging after him repeatedly trying to impale his smaller opponent on one of the spikes but the Luchador is a step ahead of him and spins out of the way like he was a receiver in the NFL ducking out of harms way. The next time Bruce lunges at him IL leads with his head blocking the attack with the helmet

 

*CLANG!!*

 

The impact knocks IL down and sends the helmet rolling across the canvas and out of the ring. Luchador shakes his head and then pushes himself back up to his feet, the helmet bore most of the brunt it seems. Bruce squares his shoulders, hunches down a little and then charges his smaller opponent once more.

 

"HERE COMES THE FREIGHT TRAIN!!" King yells out as Bruce runs across the ring straight for IL

 

"Oh way too slow"

 

Insane Luchador drops down to the ground and slides through Bruce's legs as the big man charges and ends up behind him out of harms way once more. IL quickly pops back to his feet then he unsnaps the machinegun belt around his waist and then swings the string of bullets at Bruce's back

 

*WHATTA!!*

 

The shoulder pads take most of the impact and shatters the belt, sending bullets everywhere but the end of the belt strikes Bruce in the back of the head knocking the big man down to his hands and knees.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

 

While IL has gained the momentum it's incredibly hard for him to maintain it as he can't strike any part of Bruce's upper body due to the shoulderpads, instead he backs up and waits for the big man to get back to his feet and then dives straight at Bruce's right knee from behind

 

"CHOPBL-NO!!" Mak yells out as Insane Luchador goes for Bruce's right knee with a chop block but is denied the satisfaction when Bruce raises his leg and then quickly drops an elbow to IL's back as the smaller man passes underneath him.

 

"Oh my god!! It looks like a couple of the spikes hit Rickmen in the back" King points out as Bruce gets off the fallen Luchador

 

"I'm not sure, I think the flack vest actually kept the spikes from penetrating the skin" Mak points out.

 

The fact that two of the spikes that would have hit IL are now bent from the impact seems to support Mak's conclusion, IL is definitely not bleeding but he still got hit with 295 pounds of solid muscle and bones. Bruce reaches out and pulls a couple of lighttubes off the ropes, holding one in each hand as he stands above the Insane Luchador who's on his knees

 

*KRESSSH!!*

 

Bruce swings the tube in his right hand and shatters the white glass tube over Insane Luchador's left arm leaving a mist of white in the air and a multitude of little glass shards in IL's skin. Bruce raises his left hand, aiming once more at IL's arm and then shatters the other lighttube over IL's arm as well

 

*KRESSSH!!*

 

Without missing a beat Bruce quickly pulls the Insane Luchador back to his feet and places the groggy man up against one of the barbwire wrapped tables set up against one of the turnbuckles and then walks towards the center of the ring for some momentum.

 

"Oh no, no, no, no!" Mak says in agony as he envisions what's coming next.

 

"Oh yes, yes, yes, yes this'll teach Insane Luchador to leave Bruce Blank alone" King adds with a grin.

 

The Trailerpark Messiah gets a head of steam and runs straight at Insane Luchador obviously intending to tackle him THROUGH the barbwire table. But IL isn't as out of it as he appeared, a fact that becomes clear to Bruce when IL quickly rolls out of the way a split second before he's about to hit him. Instead Bruce ends up ramming the barbwire table shoulder first breaking the table as he drives himself into the corner.

 

*CRASH!!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

 

"Yeah he really taught Rickmen a lesson there didn't he?" Mak says

 

"Oh shut up" is all King can think of in return.

 

Insane Luchador grabs Bruce by the back of his black trunks and pulls him backwards dragging the big man out of the tangled web of barbwire and broken table and also pulls him out of the shoulder pads that have become totally wrapped up in the barbwire.

 

IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!!

 

The Insane Luchador's eyes light up with rage and insanity as he sees Bruce on the mat, totally unprotected and totally at his mercy as the crowd goes nuts all around the arena urging Andrew Rickmen to hurt Bruce. When IL puts his hand on one of the lighttubes tied to the ring ropes the place explodes in cheers and the chants just grow louder and louder as IL raises the lighttube over his head.

 

FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!!

 

*KRESSSH!!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

The lighttube shatters across Bruce's back leaving a long white line of glass and dust across Bruce's back, then he raises the last remnants of the light tube holding the sharp end down like he was wielding a knife ready to stab his helpless victim. Luchador drops to his knees as he drives his fist down, striking Bruce on the left shoulder, shattering the glass as he drives the lighttube piece into Bruce's skin cutting it in several pieces.

 

"That'll leave a mark" Mak quips trying to lighten the mood of the match.

 

"Just one more to the collection, I mean did you see Bruce's back? It looks like a topographical map of the Himalayas" King replies.

 

Luchador grabs Bruce by the Mohawk and drags the big man over towards the ropes, pulling him closer to one of the sides with the Caribbean Spider Web. His opponent is way too heavy for Insane Luchador to pull him up to his feet and over the top rope, so instead he opts to drape Blank over the middle rope and then quickly dashes off for the ropes on the opposite side.

 

"Rickmen is about to catch himself a fly" Mak says as Luchador's intentions become clear to everyone.

 

Rickmen bounces off the ropes on the opposite side and then uses the added momentum to land a drop kick to Bruce's back & neck sending the big man whipping forward over the middle rope

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaa…

 

And onto the apron only as Bruce manages to hold on and keep himself out of the inferno of sharp barbs of the Caribbean Spider Web much to the disappointment of the fans and Insane Luchador. Rickmen circles around Bruce and gets in position to grab him around the head the moment the big man is on his feet. The Insane Luchador grabs Bruce by the hair and then drops down while pulling Bruce's head down with him

 

"BLOCKED!! Bruce isn't about the play the fly, he's the biggest, most deadly spider around baby!!" the Suicide King says as Bruce puts his hands on the top rope and blocks the throat drop.

 

"Oh he'll end up in the tangled web – you know what they say about those that deceive and all" Mak adds

 

"Yeah they end up with all the cash" The Suicide King replies brushing off any comments about tangled web weaving.

 

Bruce steps through the ropes back inside the ring but apparently he was a little too hasty to write Insane Luchador off because the Ill One manages to kick upwards from where he's lying, striking the middle rope as Bruce steps over it

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!

 

"Well it wouldn't be an Ultraviolent match without a nut shot, it's in the rules" the Suicide King says as Mak thanks his lucky stars that he can't really feel anything from the waist down right now.

 

Bruce stumbles forward, holding his private parts as he tries to make all the starts and the colors go away from his vision. Luchador spots an opening and quickly climbs the ropes, ascending the turnbuckle in the corner where Bruce broke the barbwire table. Luchador leaps towards Bruce, tugs his legs under for more momentum and then at the last moment kicks forward planting both of his feet in the side of leaned over Bruce Blank knocking the big man sideways THROUGH the ropes to the outside

 

And through the ropes means

 

*KRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

The sight of Bruce flying through the ropes, shattering a major portion of the lighttubes in the process is apparently one of the things the fans have been waiting to see in this match and the sight didn't disappoint them one little bit. Insane Luchador points to Excalibur on the canvas drawing another pop from the crowd

 

FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!!

 

Rickmen quickly grabs the lighter fluid soaked lighttube sword and picks it up, then he turns his attention back towards Bruce on the floor, or at least to the side where Bruce was a moment ago.

 

"Where the heck did he go?" Mak asks when it becomes obvious that there is no one on the floor on the panes of glass and tables side of the ring.

 

"Maybe he sprouted wings and flew away" King says sarcastically to cover up the fact that he didn't actually notice where Bruce went.

 

An instant replay lets everyone who watches the screens know that Bruce had dragged himself under the ring as Insane Luchador picked up his lighttube sword. Rickmen looks at the monitor along with the rest of the crowd and then quickly walks over to the opposite side of the ring and steps through the ropes in a place where the lighttubes have been removed, then he raises a finger to his lips to keep the fans quiet.

 

"He's on to him!! Rickmen knows what Bruce is planning"

 

"Oh how would he know?" King replies angrily as he dismisses the idea that Andrew Rickmen could outsmart Bruce.

 

When the apron on the other side starts to move everyone knows that it's just a matter of moments before Bruce comes crawling out on the other side probably thinking that he's got the Insane Luchador completely fooled. Luchador stands on the edge of the ring directly above Bruce as he pulls out a lighter and flicks it on

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

*FROOM*

 

And then sets Excalibur on fire with a demented grin on his face. The heat from the flame heats up the glass as Insane Luchador raises the sword over his head with the tip of it pointing backwards. The second Bruce's upper body is all the way out from under the ring him opponent leaps off with both hands on the handle of his flaming sword

 

*KRESSSH!!*

 

HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!

 

The Insane Luchador drives the tip of the flaming sword into the back of Bruce Blank's head, shattering it on impact sending flaming shards of glass flying everywhere. Then Rickmen quickly rolls Bruce over onto his back and covers the big man while he's still half way under the ring.

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

* DING!*DING!*DING!*

 

"The winner of the first fall, the Insane LUCHA-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORR!!" Funyon informs the crowd that already knew it.

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 1 – Bruce Blank: 0

 

Time Left: 22:01

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

"There will now be a 30 second rest period before the next fall can begin, during this time the match clock will be stopped" Funyon says, informing the fans of the small change to the standard Iron Man rules due to the brutal nature of the Pandemonium match, the officials want to ensure that at least one of the participants is able to stand up after the match is over after all.

 

"Man I think we could ALL need a thirty second break and this is just the FIRST fall, we could see a lot of falls tonight, especially if Rickmen keeps up the assault on Bruce" Mak says revealing just how impressed he's been with IL's onslaught tonight.

 

"Yeah or Bruce can turn the tide, break Rickmen's leg in the next minute and just pile up the wins for 20 minutes or so" King counters since Francis wants to play "Imaginary match booking".

 

A small clock in the corner of the screen gives us the 30 second count down as both wrestlers get a moment to recover after the fall. For the first 10 seconds or so Bruce doesn't even move a muscle, but then he starts to come too and begins to drag himself out from under the ring and over to the guardrail where he lies on his back trying to catch his breath. While Bruce needs ever second he can to recover the Insane Luchador looks alright, yes he's bleeding from a few cuts but nothing major, at least not for him.

 

"Rickmen better stay away from Bruce during the break, we can't have any dirty rule breaking going on here" King says with a straight face.

 

"Did you not just go on about how everything is legal in this match and that I should just relax cause this is Pandemonium?" Mak counters

 

"Yeah but this ISN'T the match, it's the break. Besides I thought you generally liked people who stick to the rules." King counters trying to shut his co-commentator up.

 

While Bruce recovers by slowly bleeding on the mat the Insane Luchador climbs up on the edge of the ring and then begins to crawl up the ropes with his back to Bruce. Ordonez steps between Luchador and Blank and waves his hands, Rickmen can't attack during the break but IL has no intentions of attacking Bruce before the rest period is over and just waits on the top rope for the last 3 seconds to tick off

 

* DING!*

 

The moment the bell rings referee Ordonez steps out of the way, everything is now legal once more. The bell has hardly finished ringing before Luchador leaps off the top rope, bouncing backwards flipping towards Bruce with one of his trademark moonsaults that is as always spot on the money

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaa…OOOOOOWWWWW!!!

 

Rickmen nailed the moonsault alright, but the problem is that he nailed it onto a two by four that Bruce propped up against the guardrail causing the Insane Luchador to come down on the two by four ribs first.

 

"SON OF A BITCH!!" is all King can say as the Insane Luchador curls up on the floor clutching is potentially broken ribs in agony.

 

"This could change EVERYTHING, if Rickmen is seriously injured in this match with more than 20 minutes to go we could see Bruce go on a total rampage" Mak adds

 

"YES!!" King says without even thinking about it.

 

With Luchador on the ground Bruce finally has a chance to get back to his feet albeit very, very slowly as he's still showing ill effects of the first fall. Bruce leans back against the guardrail and tries to catch is breath as he just watches his opponent writhe in pain. Then after a moment to catch his breath Bruce goes over to one of the weapon filled trashcans and starts to root around in it until he pulls out a cricket bat

 

A barbwire cricket bat it would seem.

 

"I know that one!!" King says then winces as he's felt Janus' Equalizer once or twice in his career.

 

"Janus does too!" Mak adds pointing out that the head of security is staring intently at Bruce Blank as the big man is holding his trademark weapon up in the air.

 

Only to throw it over his shoulder and go back to the trashcan.

 

"I guess it just wasn't violent enough for him" King says with a smirk, noting that Bruce discarding the weapon like it was nothing didn't please Janus or Terrence for that matter.

 

"Oh lord what IS violent enough for him then?" Mak says, worrying about the worst..

 

Bruce pulls out other various weapons such as a branding iron, a kendo stick and a baseball bat but none of them meet his requirements apparently as he throws each of them away before pulling out the next one. When he pulls out a 6-7 foot long heavy staff he examines it closely and then suddenly

 

*SNICKT!!*

 

A long Scythe blade pops out much to Bruce's surprise

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

 

"Holy shit that's Aecas Flick Scythe isn't it?" The Suicide King says surprised to see the old school weapon in Bruce's hands

 

"It most certainly is" Mak confirms.

 

Bruce grins as he looks at the long sharp blade, then he grabs it properly with both hands, swings it over his shoulders to get a lot of momentum into the swing and then brings the blade up over his head and straight down at the prone Insane Luchador with force and evil intentions

 

*THWACK!!*

 

Luckily for Insane Luchador he's able to grab the two by four he hit with his ribcage earlier and hold it up to block the blade. The force of the attack has driven the blade THROUGH the two by four where it sticks out a good three maybe four inches on the other side and the tip of that blade is only mere inches away from Insane Luchador's face as Bruce Blank keeps pushing downwards on the scythe with all the power he's got.

 

"He's trying to KILL him!" Mak says outraged that Bruce would ever go that far

 

"I wonder if that'd be considered a pinfall or a submission loss for him?" King quips, after all Insane Luchador has died before, he'd get better with time.

 

Luchador uses all his strength, drawing on adrenaline and reserves he didn't even know he had as he does his best to hold Bruce off, to push the blade back away from his face. A moment seems to stretch to infinity, each breath seemingly lasting forever, each heartbeat telling him that he's still alive, that there is still hope

 

*BA-THUMP*

 

His knuckles turn white from the pressure he's applying to the two by four to keep the blade away. The sweat pours off his contorted face as he throws every last ounce of strength into staying alive

 

*BA-THUMP*

 

Blood slowly begins to drip from his palm where the sharp edge of the wood is cutting into his flesh from the pressure. The look of rage and anger in Bruce's eyes burn with intensity as he slides his right hand up the handle of the scytche to get better leverage as he tries to force the blade down further.

 

*BA-THUMP*

 

With every passing second, every passing heartbeat Bruce wins the leverage war and Rickmen retreats a little, a fraction of an inch at the time but it all adds up to the sharp point of the blade being perilously close to Insane Luchador's eyes, relentlessly moving closer and closer

 

*BA-THUMP*

 

Bruce grits his teeth, tightens his grip and then with a feral roar plunges forward with all his 295 pounds behind it, driving the blade downwards

 

*BA-

 

*THUCK!*

 

"OH MY GOD!!"

 

. . .THUMP*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

The blade is plunged deep into the ringside mat where Insane Luchador's head was just a split second ago, luckily he was able to shift to the ring and the blade only impaled the mat. . . and an inch or two into the concrete floor beneath it. Bruce's disappointment is clearly written on his face, just like severe agony is written on his face a split second later when Andrew Rickmen's heavy duty combat boot makes contact with the most sensitive of sensitive areas.

 

"God damn again with the nut shots" King moans

 

"He's doing the world a favor, keeping Bruce from reproducing and all" Mak calmly explains with a smile.

 

"I bet you're thinking about making a "shooting blanks" joke right about now aren't you?" King replies.

 

With Bruce bent over clutching his aching testicle department Insane Luchador finally has a chance to stand up, well to be on his feet while lurching over clutching his ribs and staggering back and forth while he tries to regain his breath to be precise. Luchador picks up a baseball bat and uses it to lean against as he approaches Bruce who's still more focused on his gonad arena than anything else. With one hand still clutching his ribs Rickmen raises the baseball bat and strikes Bruce in the shoulder

 

*THWACK!*

 

Believe it or not the blow to the shoulder actually seemed to reduce the amount of testicular pain Bruce was in, or maybe it just shifted his focus upwards and to his right, the same right Insane Luchador was about to strike again. A chair seems to be the obvious answer as Bruce feebly grabs the first thing he can get his hands on and holds it up to try and block the shot.

 

*CLANK!*

 

"Well that was a semi-success" Mak says "He didn't get hit with the baseball bat"

 

"Which is good" King agrees.

 

"But he still got struck with the chair as it bounced off the bat" Mak finishes off.

 

"You can't win them all Mak, you should know that better than anyone" King fires back pointing to the wheelchair.

 

Luchador staggers backwards and leans against the edge of the ring as the pain from his ribs almost overcomes him, but he bites his teeth and uses all the pent up anger he has to keep fighting against Bruce Blank. He reaches up and pulls one of the few remaining lighttubes off the ropes and then tosses it at Bruce like a javelin.

 

*KRESSSH!!*

 

"That damn chair again!" Mak laments as Bruce uses the folding chair as a shield to block the lighttube javelin.

 

Then Bruce uses it to lean on as he gets back to his feet thanks to the unyielding support of the metal chair. Luchador grabs another light tube, the last one still in one piece in fact and then pushes away from the edge of the ring, he was not about to fight with one hand on something to support him, he was not an old man in need of a walker. Bruce grips the legs of the chair with both hands, breathing heavy but still determined to fight, still determined to take the Insane Luchador apart.

 

"Look at them! Just look at them" Mak gushes "They've already been through a war a total war here tonight and yet they're both standing tall, ready to fight, not backing down one step"

 

"You like that huh?" King asks.

 

"That's what I call guts, heart, determination" Mak says actually praising Bruce Blank without realizing it.

 

"Stupidity" King adds

 

"It's not stupid King!" Mak fires back

 

"It is if you lose" King points out

 

Insane Luchador raises the lighttube over his head like a Samurai ready to strike, Bruce grips the chair and pulls back like a Major League player at the plate looking for a home run. Luchador lunges first, bringing his lighttube down hard but to no avail as it only hits guardrail where moments ago Bruce stood. Bruce strikes next, using his new angle to get a better shot at his opponent's head but strikes out when Luchador ducks under the chair, but he manages to pick up a hit as he quickly reverses the direction of the chair and brings the edge of the legs down on IL's back knocking him to his knees.

 

"IL better be careful there are – " is all Mak gets to say before IL demonstrates what he was about to say by grabbing a handful of thumbtacks from the side of the aisle and tosses them into Bruce face as the big man raises the chair for another attack.

 

"Seems like Rickmen is way ahead of you there Mak" King says and grins.

 

With Bruce temporarily blinded by the tacks IL pulls himself back to his feet, then he examines his immediate vicinity for a weapon. When he looks up the aisle towards the exit and the stage he seems to get an idea because he begins to stagger down the aisle, not caring that thumbtacks are digging into the soles of his combat boots.

 

"Where the heck is he going?" Mak asks

 

"Maybe he's had enough, maybe he's trying to leave" King says taking a swing at it

 

"I doubt it King, he WANTED this match – he's not just going to walk away" Mak replies

 

And to prove Mak right Luchador doesn't head for the exit itself but instead to the set on the stage. Back at ringside Bruce is trying to get the blood out of his eyes and regain his eyesight while he's tapping around on the ground for a weapon just in case Insane Luchador is about to attack him. But the Ill One is far away from Bruce, he's up on the slightly elevated stage where he's climbing into one of the jeeps that are part of the set.

 

"There is no way that'll actually start" King states categorically.

 

And is then proven wrong when Insane Luchador starts the vehicle with no problems.

 

"It's probably easier and cheaper to get a real Jeep than some prop Jeep King." Mak says and then adds "I just hope Luchador actually has a driver's license"

 

Bruce doesn't seem to care about driver's licenses or the roar of the engine that he can hardly hear over the roar of the crowd anyway. He's busy pulling the starter cord on the weed whacker he picked up from one of the trashcans of weapons that have been placed at ringside.

 

*VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMM!!*

 

Bruce guns the weed whacker with a smile and then turns around to face the aisle looking for Insane Luchador. The look on Bruce's face as he sees the Jeep come right at him is somewhat similar to that of a deer in the headlights, and like said deer Bruce is too surprised and shocked to move out of the way.

 

"HE'S GOING TO RUN HIM OVER!!" Mak yells out holding up his hands to cover his eyes

 

"Oh Fuck!" – a statement that needs no explanation.

 

At the last moment Bruce does manage to move a little as he does the only thing he possibly can do with a Jeep coming at you, he leaps up on the hood so that he rolls over the hood instead of taking the impact of the car on his body. But as clever as that plan is Bruce had forgotten to calculate for the windscreen of the Jeep

 

*KRESSSSSSSSSSSH!!*

 

That he strikes with enough force to shatter the glass and bend the frame as he flips over the side of the Jeep and onto the ground where the thumbtacks add injury to. . . well injury really.

 

"Sweet mother of mercy I though he was going to literally run him over" Mak says

 

"I'm sure he would have loved to" King replies with no uncertainty in his voice.

 

Rickmen pushes down the broken windscreen frame and then steps out of the open top Jeep with a sadistic, maniacal grin on his face. He stands above the hurt and possibly crippled Bruce Blank and looks at him, then he swivels his head towards the stage and up in the air, looking straight at the watch tower.

 

"Don't tell me. . . He already ran Blank over now he wants to. . . " But the Suicide King just can't finish that sentence, it's implications are just too horrible.

 

"The higher the better for the Insane Luchador, you know that" Mak points out, a fact that doesn't make matters any better.

 

Luchador grabs Bruce by the Mohawk and begins to drag the bloodied and seemingly unconscious Blank towards the stage, dragging the big man through the thumbtacks towards a fate much, MUCH worse than thumbtacks to the back. When Insane Luchador lets go of Bruce's hair the King of Pain just slumps down, not moving an inch at all after being run over by the jeep. All things considered Rickmen could probably have pinned Bruce right there on the spot and gotten another fall, but that's just not enough for him – not nearly enough.

 

"He can't possibly hope to climb that, I mean he's up there right now clutching his ribs in agony and he wants to climb the tower?" King says in disbelief.

 

"He doesn't care about his own health, he probably has broken ribs, even if he had a broken leg, a broken neck or worse he'd still be in there fighting until he puts Bruce down for good!" Mak says sounding like IL's PR guy.

 

And just to prove how crazy and obsessed Andrew Rickmen is he actually begins to climb up the ladder, one rung at a time as his dogged determination overcomes even the injured ribs, allowing them to slow him down but not stop him. The crowd buzz increases as the Insane Luchador inches closer and closer to the top of the tower, closer to what will be a tremendous feat of insanity. . . and possibly stupidity, time will tell.

 

"This is going to end badly" King says

 

"Tell me about it, he could end up in one of these" Mak says pointing to his wheelchair and then adds two chilling words: "Or worse"

 

The Insane Luchador pulls himself up on the top of the tower, after looking at Bruce for a moment to make sure he was in position he turns around and then leaps backwards off the top of the tower, flipping and twisting his body as he flies off the platform a good 25 foot above the stage

 

"That boy has more spin in him than a Republican press release" King says admitting that he's impressed by IL's death defying actions.

 

"This. . . NO WAY!!" is all Mak can say.

 

IL manages to absolutely NAIL Bruce Blank spot on with a corkscrew moonsault – a TWENTFY FIVE FOOT CORKSCREW MOONSAULT!! The momentum and the impact sends Rickmen rolling off Bruce, tumbling a good 5 feet across the stage until he comes to a holt, clutching his ribs looking like he is in agony, but with a sick, twisted smile on his face none the less.

 

HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!

 

"That's it, stick a fork in Bruce because there is no way in hell or on earth that he's going to be able to come back from this one" Mak states.

 

"I. . . as much as it pains me to say this, I gotta agree with you" King reluctantly admits.

 

The impact of the ultra high risk move has done so much damage to both competitors that neither seem to be moving at the moment, with Bruce rolled over on his side, eyes rolled to the back of his head and no signs of consciousness and the Insane Luchador laying curled up on the stage clutching his ribs.

 

"We can't have a double count out right?" Mak asks.

 

"Nope, it can only end after 30 minutes, nothing less" King says making sure the viewers at home are aware of that specific rule.

 

"So conceivably they could just lay there on the stage totally out cold for the remains of the match?" Mak says realizing that they could be in for a very dull portion of the match.

 

Luchador finally stops holding his ribs and starts to slowly crawl across the floor towards where Bruce is laying, each time he moves we hear his rasping breath and a coughing sound that doesn't sound good but also doesn't stop Luchador from reaching Bruce and pulling him back over onto his back before collapsing with just a hand laid on top of Blank for the cover.

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THREE!!

 

* DING!*DING!*DING!*

 

"The winner of the second fall as well: the Insane LUCHA-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORR!!"

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 2 – Bruce Blank: 0

 

Time Left: 16:59

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

"Man he could have counted to like 30 or so" Mak says

 

"You're mistaking this for the world title match, there a 30 count would have mattered here all that matters is keeping your opponent down." the Suicide King counters

 

"Speaking of down, they both seem to be down, taking full advantage of that 30 second time out" Mak adds more or less ignoring King's comments.

 

Insane Luchador finally sits up as the rest period is about to run out and then slowly gets to his feet, staggering, clutching his ribs but obviously with something sadistic in mind as he walks down the ramp and heads towards the ring. Bruce finally begins to move when IL is half way down the aisle, showing signs of life for the first time since Rickmen ran him down with the jeep.

 

"I'm amazed that EITHER of them are moving" Mak says

 

"These guys are two of the toughest sons of bitches in the SWF, it'll take more than a little sneak attack from some emo boy to keep them down" King says taking yet another opportunity to poke fun at Mak's condition.

 

*DING!*

 

The match is officially underway once again and the clock starts to run. The Ill One climbs into the jeep once again and starts the engine, then he turns it around to face the stage as Bruce Blank is getting to his feet. Once Bruce is fully up on his feet Insane Luchador puts the pedal to the metal and drives straight at Bruce once more. The jeep hits the ramp, then comes across the stage aimed straight at Bruce

 

"NOT AGAIN!" King laments as it looks like Bruce is about to be taken out for good.

 

But Bruce has used the rest period well and is less staggered than he looks, a fact that he reveals by quickly moving to his right, out of the path of the jeep. Once IL passes him by Bruce raises his left arm, clenches his fist and then lands one of the stiffest lariats ever seen on Insane Luchador as he passes in the jeep.

 

*THUD!!*

 

"HOLY SHIT!" King yells out as the jeep veers to the side and then crashes into the set

 

*BANG!!*

 

"Those jeeps don't have airbags!" Mak says obviously worried about Andrew Rickmen's health.

 

The jeep lodges itself in the set but the set actually manages to remain upright, so the score is "Ford T350: 1 – Jeep 0" in the "knocking things down" battle. The impact of the lariat sent Bruce to the ground but he's able to roll up on his knees pretty quickly. Bruce sits there, staring at his blood soaked hands, his crimson colored forearms, the blood on his chest in total and utter disbelief. Then he raises his right hand up to his mouth and tastes his blood (and IL's too it's a nice unsanitary mixture of both)

 

"Oh that's just disgusting" Mak says while looking for an airsickness bag

 

Bruce closes his eyes, clenches his fists and then begins to shake with anger, frustration and rage as he lets loose a roar that sounds like it comes from the deep bowels of the darkest corners of hell. It's a sound that'll scare even your mother, that's right your mama! Bruce gets back to his feet and confidently strides across the stage to where the Insane Luchador is crawling out of the crashed jeep. Blank grabs the spare tire off the back of the jeep, pries it loose and then swings it straight at Insane Luchador

 

*BA-THWUD!*

 

The tire strikes IL square in the chest, knocking him backwards with the imprints of the tire stenciled across his chest in blood. Bruce then quickly rips the hood open, reaches in and pulls out the shredded fan belt with obvious evil intentions in mind.

*WO-PISSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!*

 

"BA GAWD LIKE A SCALDED DOG!!" Mak yells out

 

"Alright, alright JR calm down or you'll end up paralyzing half your face" King snidely remarks.

 

Bruce figures that the first time was good for him and goes for another lash

 

*WO-PISSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!*

 

"BA GAWD LIKE A SCALDED DOG!!" Mak yells out

 

"Alright, alright JR calm down or you'll end up paralyzing half your face" King snidely remarks.

 

Bruce figures that the first time was good for him and goes for another lash

 

*WO-PISSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!*

 

He obviously enjoys the sound of Insane Luchador's pained scream and the sight of hard rubber digging into the skin on IL's back and figures everything comes in threes

 

*WO-PISSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!*

 

After three Bruce simply drops the now blood soaked fan belt and grabs Insane Luchador by the back of the head and the back of his pants and casually tosses him ribs first into the edge of the jeep. The impact on his severely hurt ribs doubles Insane Luchador over as he gasps for air and tries his best to not pass out from the pain. Bruce grabs Rickmen by the throat, clamping his hand around his opponents windpipe hard and then drags him the 4-5 feet from where the jeep crashed to where the boards of C4 explosives are set up to keep Bruce from leaving the arena.

 

But leaving isn't on Bruce's mind at all – hurling Insane Luchador back first into the explosives are though

 

NOOOOOOOOOOooo..ooooohhh!!

 

The fans nearest to the explosives duck for cover thinking that it was about to go off on impact but Insane Luchador slamming against the boards didn't do anything but crack the wood and cover the packs of C4 in blood. Bruce turns and looks at Janus who's been standing by with a remote control trigger through out the mask and motions for him to push the button.

 

Janus slowly shake their head

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

 

"I didn't think he would" Mak says with relief.

 

"Oh come on you know Janus is a pair of demented bastards! I'm sure he'd love to push the button" King replies

 

"Only with Bruce on the C4" Mak counters

 

"Fair enough"

 

Bruce yells at Janus to push the damn button but the Hell Machine doesn't take orders well and refuses once again to set off the C4 with Insane Luchador draped across it. Then Bruce makes a lunge for Janus, but the big man stands his ground and raises his right fist ready to defend himself with every ounce of strength in his body. Bruce stops in his tracks, looks at the Hell Machine, then looks at the Insane Luchador and decides to turn his attention back to his scheduled opponent instead of trying to tangle with Janus.

 

"Smart, very smart" King says

 

"How is that smart King?" Mak asks

 

"Stick to one opponent at the time, he can always fight Janus at a later date tonight it's all about the Luchador"

 

Bruce takes 3 steps towards Insane Luchador and then squashes any hopes of turning the match momentum around as he drives a massive right boot into the Insane Luchador's face with so much force that a couple of people in the closest row contemplate looking for Rickmen's jaw. Bruce then grabs the Insane Luchador and pulls him back to his feet and then lifts him up on his shoulders in a fireman's carry type of position before he heads back towards the ring.

 

"Well it's about time, it's a wrestling match not a stage show" says Mak

 

"I wouldn't exactly call this a wrestling match" King counters.

 

Once Bruce reaches ringside he quickly puts his hands up to raise the Insane Luchador over his head for his trademark gorilla press. Despite the injuries, the cuts, the bruises and the world of hurt that Bruce is in he manages to lift up his much lighter opponent and throw him over the second rope into the ring where he rolls just over half way across it.

 

"I've never seen Bruce so focused, so intent on hurting someone before" King says with some degree of worry.

 

"I knew this wouldn't be pretty going in, but this is BEYOND what I could have imagined" Mak adds, concurring with the Suicide King.

 

When Bruce enters the ring Luchador simply rolls the last bit across the ring and drops to the floor on the other side for a breather. Undeterred Bruce walks over to where his shoulder pads got tangled up with the barbwire table earlier on and begins to twist one of the long spikes, unscrewing it to the shock and horror of the fans. Once the spike is lose he cups it in his hand, hiding it from IL's line of sight as he steps out on the apron right above where Insane Luchador is getting to his feet.

 

"Not good!" is all Mak can think off.

 

Bruce clenches his fist around the spike with a good inch of the point protruding from it as he leaps off the apron and connects with the Insane Luchador's forehead

 

HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!

 

"I couldn't agree more, holy shit!" King says as the Insane Luchador falls backwards against a pane of glass and then slides down dragging long red streaks of blood down it for a really gory visual.

 

"This is going too far, this needs to stop"

 

Bruce grabs IL by the hair and then begins to dig the spike into the forehead of his helpless victim making the blood flow even faster, turning Insane Luchador's face into an even more intense crimson mask than before. Then to the horror of everyone in the arena Bruce inserts the spike in the corner of Rickmen's mouth and begins to pull hard to the side trying his best to tear the skin.

 

"Oh dear god" is all that escapes from the Suicide King, this is too much even for him to stomach.

 

After tearing at IL's mouth for a moment Bruce releases his opponent and takes a couple of steps back before taking a running dive at his opponent

 

Who shifts to the ring, sending Bruce face first into a pane of glass

 

*KRESSSSH!!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

"He countered it, but I think that was pure instinct Mak, he didn't know where he was or what he was doing" King points out

 

"He does now though" Mak replies as the blood DRIPPING Insane Luchador gets to his feet and then unfolds a steel chair.

 

"Yeah have a seat Rickmen, you look like you could use it" King says.

 

But the Insane Luchador has other ideas apparently as he staggers over and grabs another chair. The massive amount of blood on his hands makes it hard for him to maintain a grip on the chair but he's able to unfold it and place it about 6 feet or so from the other chair. Luchador stops for a second to cough violently, spitting blood on the floor in the process, and then resumes what he was doing. While Luchador seems to be working on his own plan Bruce has rolled back into the ring where he's sitting in the corner trying to regain his breath.

 

"Rickmen is so focused on whatever he's doing that he hasn't seen that Bruce is back in the ring" Mak points out.

 

The Insane Luchador grabs two panes of glass and then lays them down on the seats of the chair creating a makeshift "Glass pane table", a creation that gets a roaring seal of approval from the fans. When he sees Bruce in the ring he rolls under the bottom rope

 

RIGHT INTO A STIFF FIST FROM BRUCE BLANK!!

 

*POW!*

 

"The idiot needed to take more time to recover instead of building something!" King states.

 

"If he gets time to recover then so does Bruce, he can't let up for even a second" Mak counters.

 

"Neither can Bruce it seems" King replies as they watch Bruce unfold the legs of one of the barbwire tables and turn it upright.

 

Bruce pulls Insane Luchador's head in between his legs and then raises his opponent up in the air in a power bomb position. The crowd screams in horror as Bruce drives the Ill One straight down THROUGH the barbwire table.

 

*CRASH!!*

 

But instead of covering him Bruce maintains his grip on him and slowly lifts Luchador up again. When Bruce lifts IL up in the air some of the barbwire sticks to Luchador, being embedded in his skin and all, it's not until Bruce has raised him a couple of feet that even the deepest barbs let go of IL's skin. Once Bruce has his opponent up in the air he twists around and drops Insane Luchador with another power bomb

 

A release power bomb

 

Over the ropes

 

To the floor

 

THROUGH BOTH PANES OF GLASS

 

*KRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!!*

 

"NO FUCKING WAY" Mak yells out wrapped up in the moment

 

Bruce drops and rolls out under the bottom rope and then quickly covers the Insane Luchador in the midst of all the glass shards.

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

* DING!*DING!*DING!*DING!*

 

"The winner of the third fall, his first – BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK" Funyon announces.

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 2 – Bruce Blank: 1

 

Time Left: 12:32

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

"I can't believe what we're seeing here: Bruce is digging deeper and deeper down to hurt Insane Luchador and he finally put his opponent down" Mak says dreading how the remaining portion of the match will pan out.

 

"He'll have to turn it up too, he's down by one and the first 3 falls have taken up over half of the match, he needs to work faster if he's going to put IL down twice more before the match end" King points out as we watch both Bruce and the Insane Luchador on the outside of the ring totally immobile during the 30 second time out period.

 

"That's a good point, IL still has a commanding lead here but he's also in SERIOUS trouble" Mak says.

 

Driven on by the fact that he finally got on the scoreboard and that he has the perfect opportunity to hurt Insane Luchador even more Bruce gets to his feet just as the time out expires. Then he hobbles across the mat as his adrenaline rush seems to have worn off a big and grabs a pane of glass by the edge. Then he simply pushes it over and lets it fall onto the prone Insane Luchador

 

*KLONK!*

 

It hits but it doesn't break, instead the pane of glass pins Luchador to the ground. Bruce taps his right leg with a sadistic grin before he stomps on the glass right on top of where Luchador's right arm is. Then he hops forward a foot or so and brings his foot down on top of the pane of glass once more.

 

"The Trailerpark Tornado on the glass?" Mak asks in disbelief.

 

"Totally brilliant" King claims.

 

Bruce lands another stomp half way down the pane of glass, and then another one, and another one as he turns what looks like a comical move into something far more serious each time he stomps on the pane of glass. Once he's made a full round of stomps he stops for a second by Insane Luchador's head and then leaps into the air to add extra force to the kick aimed at Insane Luchador's face

 

*KRESSSSSH!!*

 

The smile on Bruce's face widens as he surveys the damage he's done so far with shards of glass and blood everywhere on this side of the ring. Figuring that he's got an opening to get a victory AND humiliate Luchador at the same time Bruce drags IL to his feet, then raises him up across his shoulders and locks in a Torture Rack submission move on his opponent.

 

"See there is a method to his madness Mak" King says

 

"There is?"

 

"Yes definitely, Rickmen's ribs have been the target through out the match and now he's going to get the pay off" King explains as Bruce tightens his grip on the Insane Luchador.

 

Bruce clearly has victory on his mind as he begins to shake Insane Luchador adding to the effectiveness of the Torture Rack but so far Andrew Rickmen isn't giving up. As the seconds tick by Bruce's frustrations grow ten fold, Rickmen just isn't tapping out like Bruce had hoped, he'd rather take the pain than the humiliation of tapping out to Bruce it would seem.

 

IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!!

 

With the crowd chanting his name Insane Luchador starts to show a little life, shaking his first and then raising a middle finger in Bruce's face

 

"Yeah Fuck you Bruce he's not about to give up" Mak says as he forgets to use his internal voice for that comment.

 

Before Bruce has a chance to react Luchador kicks backwards, hitting the ring post with enough force to help him flip out of the Torture Rack and down in front of Blank. IL uses his momentum and positioning to arm drag Bruce down sending him back first, upside down into a pane of glass

 

*KRESSSSH!*

 

IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!! IL!!

 

"Listen to the crowd, they've not had enough of this and by the looks of it neither has Rickmen"

 

The Insane Luchador picks up a shard of glass with one hand and then lunges at Bruce, driving the tip of the glass downward stabbing Bruce in the palm of the left hand, stabbing him THROUGH the hand in fact. Bruce screams out in agony as the glass cuts his hand and quickly rolls over, cradles his hand and then tries to remove the piece of glass while trying to cope with the fact that his left hand was just run through. Luchador has dropped to his knees, clutching his ribs, breathing heavily as he's definitely feeling the effects of the brutal match.

 

"I. . . I'm at a loss for words" Mak says

 

"I've got one for you: DAMN!!" King adds and then watches in silence as the two warriors tend to their most critical war wounds.

 

Luchador gets to his feet, then grabs Bruce by the hair and manages to pull him up and roll him into the ring without too much trouble. Luchador crawls under the bottom rope, pushes pieces of the broken table out of the way and then turns to kick Bruce in the face but misses when Bruce manages to put his right hand up to deflect the kick. The loss of balance sends Luchador

Insane Luchador exits the ring and then walks around the corner taking advantage of the thick soles on his combat boots to step and crush the shards of metal as he gets closer to where Bruce is tangled up in the net. Once he's by Bruce he grabs his feet and positions one under each of his armpits before he begins to pull backwards in a Boston Crab

 

ON THE BARBWIRE NET!!

 

And yes a tap is only seconds away

 

*DING!*DING!*DING

Edited April 25, 2006 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

"The winner of the 4th fall, bringing his total to three: The IN-sane LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOOR!"

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 3 – Bruce Blank: 1

 

Time Left: 9:58

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

"Bruce had no choice but to tap out" Mak says

 

"Fortunately for him he did it pretty fast so that he could get a break" King says

 

"Are you saying he did it intentionally?"

 

"Of course, why else?"

 

"Maybe the 20 or so strands of barbwire cutting into his skin?" Mak points out as referee Ced Ordonez helps Bruce crawl off the Caribbean Spider Web for the 30 second time out between falls.

 

While Bruce is down and quite busy bleeding all over the ringside mat Luchador strolls around the ring where he picks up the bottle of lighter fluid he discarded earlier in the match. Then he casually sprays some of the lighter fluid on Bruce to the shock and horror of everyone in the arena

 

"HEY GET AWAY FROM HIM" Ced warns the Luchador since they're still on the time out period

 

"Hey I'm not touching him" Rickmen points out and then sprays more lighter fluid on Bruce's back.

 

Luchador doesn't attack the moment the time out expires but just keeps dousing Bruce with lighter fluid as the big man sits up. Once Bruce realizes what Rickmen is spraying him with he leaps to his feet frantically trying to get away from the Insane Luchador. Unfortunately for Bruce his current state doesn't allow him to really run, just hobble slowly which isn't a problem for the Insane Luchador.

 

"This is INSANE!" King yells out not wishing to see a human torch.

 

Andrew Rickmen reaches into his pocket and then produces the very same Zippo lighter he used to set Excalibur ablaze earlier in the match.

 

*SHOCK*HORROR*BARBECUE*

 

The fear is quite clearly etched on Bruce's face as he sees the flame, in Bruce's case fear leads to action as he spots a fire extinguisher amongst the weapons. After quickly arming himself with the red canister Bruce points the nozzle at the Insane Luchador and

 

*FWOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHH!!*

 

Covers his opponent in white foamy powder that quickly turns a disturbing shade of pink when it begins to mix in with Andrew Rickmen's blood. The foam only slows down the Luchador for a second as he reaches out and grabs a lighter that some fan holds out for him. A kick to the hand ensures that the Insane Luchador won't be using the lighter any time soon and a blow with the fire extinguisher to IL's ribs ensures that he's got other things to worry about right now than lighting things on fire.

 

"I think Peters is back in his office right now regretting that he let the Insane Luchador decide the match stipulation" Mak says, sounding rather queasy.

 

"I think he's on the phone to his insurance company because his payments are sky rocketing every time these two guys hit each other." King adds.

 

With IL on the ground clutching his ribs Bruce quickly finds a fan at ringside with a bottle of water and uses it to wash a lot of the lighter fluids off averting a potential disaster. When the fan complains Bruce just tosses the plastic bottle at him and flips him off before turning his attention back towards the Insane Luchador and the chain in his hand.

 

Wait a minute: Insane Luchador and the CHAIN in his hand?

 

Uh-Oh

 

*WHACK!!*

 

While still on the ground Rickmen manages to swing the 7 foot long heavy chain and strike Bruce across the neck and shoulder with it bringing him to the floor with a thud. The Insane Luchador then proceeds to crawl on hands and knees while clutching his ribs and dragging the chain until he's positioned behind Bruce. The Ill One wraps the chain around Bruce's head, not once but twice and positions the chain over Bruce's eyes before tightening the chain by pulling on it from behind

 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRHHH"

 

"My god that sounded more like a hurt grizzly bear than a human being" Mak says as Bruce shrieks in pain

 

"A blind grizzly if Luchador has anything to say about it" King adds as Luchador pulls back hard on the chain digging the links of the metal chain into Bruce's face leaving what'll probably be a lovely ghoulish imprint on Blank's face. Having used the opportunity to recover while hurting Bruce Luchador is now ready to take the next step, a step that involves sliding the chain down around Bruce's throat instead and the Insane Luchador pulling on the chain.

 

"Look at him treat Bruce like a dog!" Mak Francis exclaims as Bruce has no option but to crawl behind IL on his hands and knees

 

Well either that or get choked out by the chain.

 

"I don't like where this is headed" King adds as Rickmen drags Bruce towards the tower he leaped off to take the second fall.

 

When they reach the tower Luchador begins to climb up the side while keeping a tight grip on the chain still, slowly dragging up with him. If Bruce had been able to see better he would have probably tried to put the brakes on BEFORE they reached the tower but now he was forced to follow Luchador or be hung by the neck. Rickmen climbs up on the platform and then drags Bruce up over the side as well pulling hard on the chain, choking Bruce out as well as dragging him up. The Insane Luchador makes an "Over the side" motion and then points to Bruce.

 

But as bloodthirsty as the crowd has been all night Rickmen's insanity is beginning to be a little too much even for them, as much as they hate Bruce they don't want to see him actually die in front of them.

 

"Man the crowd just went all deadly silent, this just went too far"

 

Luchador drags Bruce to his feet, kicks him in the gut to make him bend over and then sets him up for the Evenflow DDT. Unfortunately for the Ill One he takes a moment to raise a hand in victory, a moment that would have been better spent actually executing the DDT because that moment is all Bruce needs to push IL off him.

 

Backwards

 

And OFF the edge of the tower

 

"OH MY GOD NO!!" Mak yells out as the Insane Luchador plunges 25 feet to the stage where he crashes through it as everyone watches on in silent horror.

 

"Okay I'm 100% serious here, we need to stop this and get someone out here to help Rickmen!" King pleads.

 

Bruce hasn't even realized what has happened yet as he's on all fours trying to regain his breath and his eyesight. When he looks up he notices that the Insane Luchador isn't on the top of the tower any more. Then he crawls over to the edge and looks down, down at the fallen Luchador and the hole in the stage. It's quite clear that Bruce is shocked by what he sees

 

At first at least, then he grins with sadistic glee as he slowly climbs over the side of the tower and then begins to climb down the ladder. His badly mangled left arm makes it hard for Bruce to climb down and he takes quite a long time descending the 25 feet or so to the stage without slipping and falling himself. Once he's on the ground he staggers over towards the hole in the stage, reaches in and then slowly drags out the Insane Luchador using mainly his right hand.

 

"Oh don't even bother with the count" Mak says as Bruce slumps down on top of the Insane Luchador.

 

But Ced has to bother, it's his role in this war – he can but watch as these two guys tear each other apart, watch and count the pinfalls.

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THREE!!!

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 3 – Bruce Blank: 2

 

Time Left: 04:20

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

Bruce rolls off the Insane Luchador so that the 30 second time out can begin. The crowd watch on in horror as Luchador turns over on his side and begins to spit up blood all over the stage coughing violently each time he draws a breath of air.

 

"This is bad, this is really bad – we could be looking at some serious internal injuries to Rickmen here" Mak says in a somber voice.

 

Luchador doesn't move at all during the time out while Bruce gets back to his feet, cradling his left arm in agony. Once Bruce turns around and sees the clock on the giant screen he's taken back by just how little time he has left and begins to freak out as he has to get TWO wins in to take the match. Then he sees someone in the crowd and heads on over to the guy flagging him down.

 

"I was wondering when Wayne would show up" Mak says as the camera zooms in on Wayne Blank in the crowd yelling out to his brother.

 

"He's just a fan, watching from the crowd" King points out, after all it's not illegal to watch from the stands.

 

The appearance of Bruce's little brother finally gets a reaction out of Janus who's been standing by all match through without doing anything. Wayne's eyes bug out as he sees the giant Hell Machine heading for him and he quickly tosses something white to Bruce before running off with Janus on his tail.

 

"What the heck did he just throw Bruce?" Mak asks wondering what the hell the white fabric Bruce is holding in his hands.

 

"Maybe it's a sweater? Kinda nippy tonight and we are outside" King quips, covering his own ignorance with a joke.

 

The crowd cheers on Janus as they chase Wayne through the crowd and up the steps. Bruce holds up what Wayne tossed him and reveals that it's a STRAIGHTJACKET. A jacket he immediately begins to apply to the Insane Luchador as the 30 second time out period has ended a moment or two earlier. Rickmen struggles as best he can, trying to keep Bruce from tying him up with the straight jacket. Half way up the arena steps Janus finally catches up to Wayne and totally LEVELS him with their trademark Knuckle Bomb

 

*POW!!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

With Wayne suitably punished for interfering with the match Janus turns around and heads back down the steps towards the ring area. Bruce elbows Luchador in the ribs to get him to stop fighting against the straightjacket and manages to pull both sleeves totally on and then tightens the strap on the back immobilizing the Insane Luchador's arms. Then he looks at the clock once more and then hurriedly grabs a spade from the set

 

"Man he's got to work FAST here if he's going to get 2 wins in before the time runs out" Mak says

 

"He can do it!! Come on Bruce you can do it" King says channeling Rob Schneider.

 

Bruce swings the spade

 

*THWACK!*

 

And strikes the Insane Luchador on the arm with the spade knocking him backwards against the guardrail. Then Bruce swings the spade once more, slamming the head of it straight into Insane Luchador's ribs with a deep

 

*THUD!*

 

Luchador bends over from the pain, struggling to protect himself and maybe also escape the straight jacket, but Bruce isn't about to let his opponent get out of this jacket and quickly hits the Ill One in the back sending him staggering towards the ring with Bruce chasing right behind him.

 

"If Rickmen can just say away from the spade for a few more minutes he can win the match" Mak says hoping that Luchador isn't too hurt to keep his distance to Bruce.

 

"Yeah but Bruce isn't about to let him win by just running away" King replies

 

*CLANG!*

 

"See?"

 

Bruce has chased the Insane Luchador to ringside and figures that the best way to stop his opponent from running is to nail him over the back of the skull with the spade

 

*CLONG!!*

 

The impact of the spade shot knocks the Insane Luchador up on the apron of the ring where he manages to roll under the bottom rope hoping that it'll buy him a little more time. But Bruce ignores pains, aches, cuts and bruises and slides under the bottom rope with the spade in tow. Rickmen sits up, shaking his head, trying to stop Bruce from . . .

 

*CLANG!!*

 

. . . hitting him in the face with the spade. Insane Luchador slumps backwards onto the canvas and Bruce is quick to cover

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THREE!!!

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 3 – Bruce Blank: 3

 

Time Left: 00:32

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

The moment Bruce gets off the Insane Luchador Ced moves in to remove the straight jacket to allow Luchador to recover the use of his arms before the final 32 seconds of the match tick down. Bruce has seen how little time he has left and impatiently pushes Ced out of the way and kicks Luchador in the ribs while the time out period is still running.

 

"You can smell the desperation from here"

 

"No I think that's YOU Mak" King counters he's not in the mood for jokes as he's on the edge of his seat along with everyone else in the arena.

 

Ced turns around and restarts the 30 second time out period since Bruce attacked the Insane Luchador during the time out and then tells Bruce to stay away from the Insane Luchador during this time period. When Bruce doesn't seem to listen Janus steps over the top rope into the ring where they stand in front of Bruce and re-enforces Ced's decision to him in no uncertain terms.

 

"That's why he's the most effective head of security EVER!" Mak exclaims

 

"Yeah effective. . . he sure has Spike Jenkins under control" King quickly counters.

 

Bruce says something to Janus that can't be heard but it's obviously not something nice, but nothing Bruce can say will budge them as they stand in Bruce's way during the 30 second time out. . . and a bit beyond as Bruce still bitches at Janus when the rest period runs out and he apparently misses the ringing of the bell.

 

*DING!*

 

"Time's a wasting come on, come on" King laments as Bruce seems to be unaware that the clock has started up again.

 

"Well now he sees it" Mak adds as Bruce quickly pushes past Janus and dives on top of the Insane Luchador for a cover.

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

THR-SHOULDERUP!!

 

"Holy crap how did he manage that?" King says with surprise as the Insane Luchador manages to lift his shoulder about an inch off the canvas.

 

"And look at Bruce he's even more stunned than we are" Mak adds

 

To say that Bruce is stunned is an understatement, he's on his knees, mouth wide open just staring at the blood covered, coughing, hurting Insane Luchador trying to figure out how the hell he managed to kick out. Then he shakes off his surprise and lays down across IL's head and shoulders making sure to put a hand on each of Rickmen's shoulders to ensure victory before the time runs out

 

In about 8 seconds

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-NO!!

 

Some how, some way the Insane Luchador managed to kicks his feet enough to create the tiniest amount of daylight between one of his shoulders and the canvas. It was miniscule but enough to keep the Insane Luchador in the match for the last

 

THREE!

 

TWO!!

 

ONE!!

 

Bruce's face is a picture of frustration as he looks up at the giant clock being shown on the screen, he knows he's too late, he knows that he can't get another pin fall in and it's clear that he's on the verge of a total mental breakdown over the prospect of hearing the bell ring

 

* DING!!*DING!!*DING!!*DING!!*

 

"It's 3 – 3! After all this time, all the impact and blood and sweat and broken bones and all we're no further than when we began?" Mak exclaims in frustration.

 

"You think YOU'RE pissed? Look at Bruce he's totally distraught over the fact that he threw EVERYTHING at the Insane Luchador and then something and THEN a kitchen sink and he's still not able to get his hand raised" King adds putting words to Bruce's emotions right now.

 

The King of Pain pounds the mat in anger, yelling and cursing at Ced Ordonez, Janus, Funyon, Mak, the guy in the front row, Insane Luchador's mom and the hot dog vendor in section 8. The kicking and screaming from Bruce doesn't stop until Ced Ordonez waves Funyon to the ring and then tells him something. Bruce looks on with a hopeful expression on his face as Ced lays it out for the ring announcer.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen" Funyon says and pauses, making the fans wait just a moment longer before he spills the beans "Referee Ced Ordonez has told me in no uncertain terms that he is not about to officiate a rematch and has decided that this match WILL go on until there is a winner under SUDDEN DEATH RULES!!"

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

 

The smile on Bruce's face is swiftly replaced with surprise as the Insane Luchador rolls him up from behind after looking like he wasn't able to move at all

 

ONE!!

 

 

"No way, not like this" King pleads

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

"After all of this it ends with a School boy?" Mak adds in disbelief of what they're seeing

 

 

 

THR-NO!!

 

Bruce manages to kick his much lighter opponent off and wart off the surprise roll up. The fact that the Insane Luchador was able to outwit him once again pisses Bruce off so much that the second he gets to his feet he turns and lands a big size 14 motorcycle boot upside the head. . .

 

*BLAM!!*

 

. . . of referee Ced Ordonez much to the surprise of EVERYONE in the arena.

 

"You take it to the Man Bruce!! That'll teach him to slow count you" King says between fits of laughing.

 

"Yeah that was really smart, now there is no referee to count to 3"

 

Bruce doesn't seem to care that there is no one to count, he totally relished kicking Ced's face in after frustrating him earlier in the match and keeping him from winning it. While Bruce is busy playing "kick the referee" Insane Luchador is actually focusing on the match at hand and has picked up the spade that Bruce used on him only minutes ago. When Bruce turns around all he's greeted with is a face full of spade head

 

*KLONG!!*

 

Which naturally puts him flat on the canvas and the Insane Luchador quickly covers him hoping to pick up the win. Only one problem with the plan, Ced Ordonez is off in la-la land dreaming of winning the SWF World title and thus not really able to hit the mat for that crucial 3 count. After having left the ring only a couple of minutes ago Janus has decided to stay around ringside in case their services are needed, and it looks like they are needed now.

 

Janus reaches up and grabs their security shirt by the collar and pulls on it revealing an official SWF Referee shirt underneath it.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

"That's not fair! That's not fair at all, Janus is hardly unbiased" King moans as Janus steps over the top rope into the ring.

 

"It's all we've got, it's certainly better than Mr. Snoozer Ordonez" Mak replies as Janus drops down to one knee for the count

 

ONE!!

 

 

"Oh you've GOT to be kidding me!" King complains preemptively.

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

"You live by the spade you die by the spade!"

 

 

THR-KICKOUT!!!

 

Bruce manages to raise his shoulder off the canvas denying the Insane Luchador the victory much to the dismay of both Rickmen and the fans in the arena. Insane Luchador grabs Bruce by the hair and then drags him over to the side where the Caribbean Spider Web is still intact and props him up against the ropes. After looking around for something IL slides under the bottom rope and grabs the weed whacker off the floor to a massive pop from the crowd

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

 

With a nice, unused weapon in his hands Insane Luchador steps back into the ring and then pulls the cord to start the motor as Bruce drags himself back to his feet using the ropes. Luchador raises the spinning "whacker end" up in the air ready to bring it down on Bruce's skin. Even the best laid plans can go wrong and as plans go "hit him with the weed whacker" is a little simple and it does indeed go wrong when Bruce takes a half step forward and rises up straight lifting the Insane Luchador up in the air for a HUGE back drop

 

INTO THE BARBWIRE NET!!

 

The crowd shriek in horror as the Insane Luchador lands back first in the barbwire net and the various stands of interwoven barbwire start to dig into his unprotected skin without mercy. Bruce pops his upper body out through the top and middle rope so that he can grab the Insane Luchador by the hair and drag him back inside the ring. With each tug Bruce makes the barbs tear another hole in the Insane Luchador but he finally escapes the barbwire hell to the relative safety of the ring

 

*VRRRRRROOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!*

 

"Relative" being the operative word as Bruce has grabbed the still running weed whacker.

 

*VRRRRRRRRRRRROO-SNICKT!!*

 

"OH MY GOD!!"

 

THAT WAS SICK!!

 

Bruce slashes the Insane Luchador across the thigh with the spinning blade, tearing clean through his camouflage pants and slashing open IL's thing. Bruce guns the engine once more and then brings it down in a slashing motion across the Insane Luchador's back with a sick cutting sound and a horrifying spray of blood hitting the mat like it was a scene from a slasher movie.

 

THAT WAS SICK!! THAT WAS SICK!! THAT WAS SICK!!

 

Bruce drops the weed whacker and then pulls the Insane Luchador back to his feet and then raises him up across his shoulders. If Bruce's left arm hadn't been totally mangled through out the match it might have done more than just basically drape over the Insane Luchador's legs but as it is it's all Bruce has the strength to do, his right hand will have to do most of the work on the Torture Rack

 

"He's bound and determined to get Insane Luchador to tap out!" King says

 

"He wants to even the score from the barbwire submission earlier, but honestly he doesn't even look like he's got the power to keep Luchador up." Mak replies

 

Bruce's legs shake under him from the strain of lifting the Insane Luchador at a point in the match where his needle is way below "E". The big man tries to keep his balance but he's just too hurt and too exhausted to do so and staggers backwards up against the ropes, leaning on them while trying his best to keep the Insane Luchador in his grasp.

 

Bruce's face doesn't look human any more, not even the eyes which are the only recognizable features on his face. The eyes tell a tale of an inhuman desire to hurt the Insane Luchador but also the total and utter frustration of everything that's preceded this moment in the match. He looks like he's about to just keel over from exhaustion and frustration as he slumps back against the ropes with Luchador still straddling his shoulders.

 

"That right there is a picture of obsession! His desire to hurt the Insane Luchador is pushing him so far that he's not even able to stand on his feet"

 

Bruce grits his teeth and then slowly steps one foot over the top rope, then the other placing him on the apron right above where Bruce collapsed the Caribbean Spider Web earlier in the match. The camera catches a shot of Bruce's face, blood running over it, the only identifiable features being his eyes really as he focuses all his strength and will power on the task at hand. Then as if in slow motion he closes his eyes as the beginning of a primal scream escapes his lips

 

"RAAAAAA-"

 

Bruce's entire body shakes under the strain as he pulls down with his right arm that's wrapped around the Insane Luchador's head and at the same time pushes up at IL's legs to move the Ill One around in a semi circle behind his own head.

 

"-AAAAAAA-"

 

The scream gets even louder as he manages to raise Luchador's feet straight up in the air while sliding his opponent's blood splattered body down his chest, his legs trembling from the effort of executing such a power move so very, very late in the match.

 

 

 

"-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!"

 

At the last moment Bruce leaps forward into a sit out position ONTO THE BARBWIRE NET where he drives Insane Luchador's head down between his legs in a pile driver motion.

 

"PSYCHO DRIVER??!?! The Fucking Psycho Driver??" King screams out in amazement of both the physical feat and the devastating nature of the move.

 

"That's… Bruce used one of the most potentially lethal moves in wrestling right onto barbwire and glass shards!!" Mak exclaims loudly to really get across the viciousness of the move to the viewers at home.

 

Bruce's legs have paid the price as well as both of them are tangled in barbwire and cut in many places but Bruce manages to hold onto the sit out position and covers the Insane Luchador in the middle of the barbwire and glass. Janus quickly leaps out of the ring and just to show what sort of tough bastards they are they slap their hand down straight on the glass to keep a very close eye on Insane Luchador's shoulders

 

ONE!!

 

 

"Oh he can count FOREVER!" Mak says

 

Janus slows the count down, reluctant to actually count for Bruce but he knows he has to and pounds the ground a second time

 

 

TWO!!!

 

"The humanity – the INSANITY!!" Mak yells out hoping to God that this match is over

 

 

THREE!!

 

*DING!*

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

Insane Luchador: 3 – Bruce Blank: 4

 

Time: 37:42

 

=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=**=

 

There are no cheering, no booing, nothing at all after the pinfall decision – everyone in the arena stand in awe of what they've just seen and watching intently to see if the two wrestlers are going to be okay.

 

"The winner of the match with 4 falls to 3 "The King of Pain" BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!!" Funyon announces.

 

The crowd doesn't turn hostile until Wayne Blank returns to ringside, leaps over the guardrail and helps his older brother get out of the barbwire and glass shards. Wayne pulls the strands off Bruce's leg revealing the massive amount of cuts and nicks and tears from the barbwire.

 

"I can't believe either of them is actually moving after this match" Mak says.

 

"I'm at a loss for words here fans, I've never seen ANYTHING like this and frankly I hope I never will" King adds as they watch Wayne help Bruce to his feet and then supports him as the King of Pain slowly hobbles down the aisle.

 

About a third of the way down the aisle Bruce pushes Wayne off and leans on the guardrail. When Wayne offers him a hand Bruce waves him off, shakes his head to clear his vision a bit and then slowly

 

Ever so slowly

 

Bruce begins to limp towards the exit under his own power.

 

"Listen to the crowd!" King says as the seventy thousand plus fans in the Alltell Stadium all applaud Bruce Blank as he limps to the back.

 

He may be covered in blood, he may never walk, talk or look the same, he may leave a trail of blood on the floor as he walks but he was victorious in a match that pushed him beyond anything anyone has done before.

 

"Man I need a drink" is the Suicide King's final words as we fade to a promo to hype the 13th Hour PPV while the EMT crew comes out along with a couple of guys with wire cutters come out to check on the Insane Luchador.

[chirs3 0]

FADE IN

 

“I’m standing here with Melissa Fasaki and the International Champion, the Wildchild,” says Ben Hardy. “And Wildchild, in a few minutes, you’re going to be defending the title against Jimmy the Doom, who earned this match by defeating Kevin Coyote back on Smarkdown.”

 

Hardy pauses while the production crew cues up video footage of the Number One Contender’s match before continuing. “Jimmy the Doom poses a unique challenge to you with his unorthodox style; how do you intend to leave Jacksonville with the International Title?”

 

“I’m jus’ gon’ do de same t’ing dat I always do,” replies Wildchild. “I’m gon’ use my speed, an’ wear ‘im down… Dis Jimmy de Doom is gon’ be tough, an' I never underestimate my opponents, but I can’t worry about what he’s gon’ t’do.”

 

“And why do you say that?” asks Ben.

 

“Monsieur Benjy, I’ve been here for almos’ four years now,” replies WC, “an’ I’ve learned dat ninety percent of wress’lin is all ‘bout controllin’ de pace… I can’t worry about what he’s gon’ to try an’ do because I need to focus on what I plan t’do. I feel like, if I can control de pace, I can beat anybody, an’ if I can hit Monsieur Doom wit’ de Wil’ Ride, I'm gon’ walk out of Jacksonville jus’ like I walked in: wit’ de International Championship!”

 

Hardy watches as WC and Melissa walk off. “Well, there you have it: the International Champion likes his chances. King, Mak, back to you!”

[chirs3 0]

The sound of Edwin Starr's "War" welcomes us back inside the arena. The cameraman pans the crowd where signs like "J³: Silent but Violent," "HLA = Ratings… YA GET ME?" and "WC is DOOMED! " are being waved from all over.

 

"A pretty confident boast by the International Champion, as he gets ready to defend against Jimmy the Doom," says Mak. "King, I don't know about you, but I'm very interested in this match! Just to give a quick recap, Wildchild has held onto that title for a little over a month, since he won it from Jay Hawke at From the Fire. And, as we all just saw on replay, Jimmy the Doom earned this title opportunity by defeating Kevin Coyote last week on Smarkdown."

 

You've got two guys with somewhat unorthodox styles here," notes the Suicide King. "Obviously Wildchild likes to rely on the high-risk stuff, and Jimmy the Doom… you never know WHAT that guy's gonna do!"

 

"I think that this could very well be the sleeper match of the night," says Mak. "Obviously we have two tremendous matches still to come, but don't overlook this one, King: Wildchild has really been stepping his game up on Pay Per View as of late, and with this being Jimmy the Doom's first big Pay Per View opportunity, we could be looking at a 'steal the show' type of match!"

 

"Well, Wildchild and Jimmy are both deceptively capable wrestlers, and both of them prefer to make use of a more crowd-pleasing style," says King. "This should be a very fast-paced match that keeps the crowd into it throughout, even if the match quality leaves something to be desired."

 

"The fans have waited long enough to see this, King," says Mak, "so let's not wait any longer!"

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

At the sound of the bell, the camera shifts focus to the center of the ring, where Funyon stands in a tailor-made camouflage tuxedo. "The following contest," he bellows, "is for the INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!"

 

With that, the lights in the Alltell Stadium abruptly cut out, a dark indigo hue providing the sole luminescence as a procession of hooded druids begin marching out from underneath the SmarkTron in two columns. The columns begin to separate from each other as they approach the head of the ramp, and each column takes up position on a different side of the ramp. For a few moments, the druids that are visible at the top of the ramp just continue to mark time with each other as they march in place, when they suddenly begin to advance towards the ring as is ordered to proceed by some unheard voice, each column staying in step with the other. The speakers echo with the dull hum of what most in attendance figure to be a Gregorian chant, as the druids continue on towards the ring. The druids begin to chant the word "Doom" with the fall of each left foot, and as the seemingly endless succession continues to enter the arena, the chants become progressively louder:

 

 

Doom!

 

 

Doom!

 

 

DOOM!

 

 

DOOM!

 

 

DOOM!

 

 

DOOM!

 

 

DOOM!

 

 

 

The fans watch in bewilderment as dozens of druids, standing heel-to-toe, surround the barricade and ringside area. While the druids flanking the ramp continue to face forward, those surrounding the ringside area all suddenly turn to face the ring, standing shoulder-to-shoulder as the lights are suddenly switched back on. The druids stop chanting immediately, and the Gregorian is abruptly stopped as well, to be quickly replaced by a melody that most everyone in the civilized world has heard before, but few could think to pin a name to: "Yakety Sax," by Boots Randolph. The crowd begins to cheer as Jimmy and Lois walk out onto the stage, each armed with t-shirt guns, and they begin to fire officially-licensed Jimmy the Doom t-shirts into the crowd.

 

"How disgusting!" spits King. "Look at this guy trying to buy fans!" At one point, Lois loses control of her t-shirt gun and pelts one of the druids on the stage in the back of the head, knocking him down to the concrete floor. Jimmy and Lois glance at each other and then shrug dismissively, laying down the t-shirt guns before making their way down the ramp.

 

"Poor bastard landed right on his head," says King. "It's a good thing those guys are insured."

 

"Are they covered for Mansonosity?" asks Mak.

 

"Are you nuts?" replies King. "They're just druids; they don't make that kind of money!" Jimmy and Lois walk up the steel stairs and then steps between the top and middle ropes to enter the ring, as "Yakety Sax" fades out.

 

"Get a load of that helmet, King," says Francis, noting the horned Viking helmet atop his head. "You don't think that this guy actually thinks he's a Viking, do you?"

 

"I think that Jimmy uses the hats to express his mood," replies King, as Jimmy removes the helmet and hands it to Lois. "And obviously, he's feeling a little war-like tonight; that could mean that Wildchild is in for one hell of a fight!"

 

"This contest is scheduled for one fall!" shouts Funyon. "Currently in the ring to my right, and being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, is the challenger! From Doomopolis, Doomtopia, and weighing in at two hundred twenty-five pounds…

 

"Jimmy…

 

 

"The…"

 

 

Jimmy leans towards the edge of the ring, cupping both hands to his ear as the crowd shouts in unison:

 

 

DOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

 

Jimmy stands up straight and salutes the crowd with an enthusiastic golf clap, as Mystikal's "Bouncin' Back" begins to play, causing the fans to cheer all over again!

 

YOU KEEP BUMPIN' ME AGAINST THE WALL!

YEAH, I KNOW I LET YOU SLIDE BEFORE!

BUT, UNTIL YOU SEEN ME… TRUST ME…

 

YOU AIN'T SEEN BOUNCIN' BACK!

 

Wildchild and Melissa bounce enthusiastically from behind the curtain, waving their arms overhead as they try to get the crowd into it.

 

"Wildchild's looking pretty relaxed," notes Mak. "He's been very successful here in the SWF since setting out as a singles wrestler!"

 

"Well, I had my doubts about how well Wildchild would be able to make the transition, but I have to admit that he's really made a name for himself since he ended his partnership with Johnny Dangerous. But this is going to be a unique challenge for him: Jimmy the Doom has a fairly unconventional style, and Wildchild is going to have to keep on his toes to hold onto his title here tonight." Wildchild removes his shin guards and hands them to Melissa. He then gives her a quick embrace before he somersaults between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring. WC removes his Championship belt and walks over towards the edge of the ring, hopping onto the second rope and saluting the crowd by raising it overhead.

 

 

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

 

"They love the Wildchild here in Jacksonville," says Mak. "And you may be right about Wildchild having his hands full, King, but I've faced this guy in the ring, and let me tell you: he's tough to put down!"

 

"If I remember correctly," taunts King, as WC's music fades out, "you lost that match didn't you?"

 

Before the two can begin arguing over who had the more successful career, Funyon begins speaking again: "His opponent is accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! From the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds, here is the INTER-NATIONAL Champion… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!" Wildchild surrenders the International Championship to referee Red Herrington, who displays it to the crowd, before handing it to the departing Funyon. He then motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

"Bell's gone," says Mak, "and we're underway!" Jimmy wastes no time in charging towards Wildchild, arm raised to deliver a right hook, but the Bahama Bomber easily ducks underneath and stuns Jimmy with a kick to the midsection as he turns around, and begins to hammer him with rapid-fire right hands! Jimmy tries to knock WC away with a backfist, but he ducks again, and goes back to work with the right jabs!

 

"Jimmy the Doom tried to get the jump on Wildchild, but the Champion would have none of it!" shouts Francis, as WC ducks yet another swinging right hook by the challenger. "And now, he's really laying into Jimmy with those quick right hands!" The Straight-Bread Sensation finally stops Wildchild's momentum with a kneelift into the midsection that doubles him over. Jimmy then begins to hammer away at WC's back with clubbing forearm blows, before running towards the ropes, but Wildchild surprises him with a hiptoss as he rebounds! WC beats Jimmy to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air and landing on the Doom's shoulders before locking his legs around the challenger's neck as he arches backwards, taking the Doom over with a rana! Wildchild remains atop Jimmy for the first pinfall attempt of the night:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW—

 

 

 

But this match is far from over, and Jimmy easily kicks out before two. Wildchild beats Jimmy to his feet and waits for him to stand up before bringing him back down to the canvas with an armdrag takeover. WC transitions into an armbar as both men get back to their feet and then shifts into a wristlock. Suddenly, the Human Hurricane takes off towards the edge of the ring, dragging Jimmy behind him before the challenger can set his feet, and leaps up onto the top rope. WC kicks his feet out from under him and lands seated on the top rope, still hanging onto the Doom's arm as he flips backwards into the ring, suddenly turning his body into the astonished challenger and hooking him underneath the arm to take him back to the canvas with a second armdrag that sends Jimmy rolling across the ring! The Straight-Breader gets back to his feet, but Wildchild cuts him off, ducking him behind him to apply a waistlock, and then picking the ankle as he gets Jimmy off his feet and tosses him onto his belly with a waistlock takedown! The Human Hurricane immediately springs to his feet, flipping off the mat as Jimmy attempts to push up on his hands and knees…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And crashes into the Doom's back with a quick somersault senton! Wildchild scrambles to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air as the Straight-Breader tries to get up again, and blasts him in the face with a running basement dropkick that sends him rolling towards the edge of the ring! WC watches patiently as Jimmy uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet, and then sprints across the ring, whipping his leg through the air as he springs off the canvas…

 

 

THWACK!

 

… And slams into his throat, knocking him over the top rope and out to the arena floor with a leg lariat! The crowd erupts as Wildchild waves his arms above his head inside the ring.

 

"Terrific flurry of offense by the Champion!" praises Francis. "He used his unique blend of mat wrestling and fast-paced offense to keep Jimmy off-balance!" Wildchild scrambles to his feet and races to the ropes as Jimmy stands up outside the ring. Wildchild dives headfirst towards the edge of the ring, prompting the Doom to move to safety, but Wildchild merely plants his hands on the canvas and uses the ropes to propel his body back towards the center of the ring as he performs a handspring backflip! Suddenly, the Caribbean Cruiser races back towards the edge of the ring, diving towards the ropes feet-first before the Straight-Breader can react, and blasting him in the face with a baseball slide!

 

"Nice fake out by Wildchild there on Jimmy," says Francis. WC gets to his feet and wows the fans with his athleticism by leaping onto the top rope. He balances there with ease until he sees the challenger start to rise, and then hops up off the ropes, twisting around before he comes back down so that he lands back on the top rope with his back to the crowd, and then springs off, flipping backwards as he plummets towards the arena floor and crashes into the Doom with a twisting Asai moonsault!

 

 

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

 

 

"Spectacular moonsault by Wildchild!" shouts Mak. "He's got this match well in hand!" WC pulls Jimmy to his feet and rolls him into the ring. He then climbs up onto the apron and grabs onto the top rope before launching himself back into the ring, crashing into the Doom's chest with a slingshot senton splash! He leans back and indicates to Herrington that he's going for a cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THRE—

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

"No way!" shouts Francis. "You're not going to get Jimmy the Doom without hooking something, I'm sorry!"

 

"Definitely not," agrees King. "He might not be the greatest wrestler in the SWF, but this guy can take one hell of a beating!" Wildchild pops up and skips across the ring, watching patiently as Jimmy uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. WC then takes off, leaping into the air and landing on Jimmy's shoulders. He locks his ankles together and begins to arch backwards…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Straight-Breader counters, driving Wildchild into the canvas with a modified sitout-Jimmy Bomb!

 

"Excellent counter by Jimmy the Doom!" shouts King, as Jimmy leans back against the ropes in exhaustion. "He took all that punishment, and still had the presence of mind to counter that Hurricanrana!" Jimmy shifts his weight forward to hold Wildchild down for a pin, and Herrington dives into position to cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— NO!

 

 

Wildchild barely kicks out at two! Jimmy pulls WC to his feet and whips him across the ring towards a neutral corner. He charges in after Wildchild, but the Tropical Tumbler leaps onto the top ropes and flips backwards as the Straight-Breader runs harmlessly underneath him…

 

 

… And begins clutching his right knee in pain as he lands on the canvas!

 

 

"Uh oh!" says Mak, as WC begins rolling around on the canvas. "Wildchild escaped out of that corner with an athletic move, but he appears to have hurt his knee!"

 

"I knew it!" crows King. "It was only a matter of time before all that high-risk acrobatic garbage caught up with him!" Jimmy attempts to capitalize, but Red Herrington waves him off, insisting that he has to ask the Champion if he's capable of continuing.

 

"What an unfortunate turn of events for the International Champion!" says Francis, as Herrington bends down in front of Wildchild. "He may have hyper-extended his knee, or even torn the patella tendon!" Herrington gets back to his feet and begins to make his way over towards the edge of the ring.

 

"Unless, of course, he's goldbricking," says King. "I can't believe I didn't think of that before!"

 

"King, I don't see Wildchild as the type of wrestler who…" Mak is suddenly interrupted as Wildchild unexpectedly gets back to his feet, greeting Jimmy just as he turns back towards him, and rolling him into an inside cradle!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

"He is!" exclaims King. "He's goldbricking!"

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

"That was close!" shouts King. "I didn't think that Wildchild had it in him to be that underhanded!"

 

"That wasn't really all that underhanded, King," counters Mak. "That was actually a pretty sound wrestling strategy!" The Straight-Bread Sensation disagrees, however, and angrily pushes WC backwards as he gets to his feet.

 

"Hey, I'm not knocking it," explains King. "I just didn't think that Wildchild was anywhere near smart enough to do something like that!" WC responds by pushing Jimmy back, and the Straight-Breader immediately counters, stunning the Champion with a palm thrust to the chest! The Doom backs WC against the ropes and whips him across the ring, but the Caribbean Cruiser reverses, stopping on a dime and twisting Jimmy's arm into an arm wringer before pulling the challenger towards him to deliver a kneelift. Wildchild runs to the edge of the ring as Jimmy is doubled over and leaps off the canvas as he bounces off the ropes, grabbing Jimmy by the head as he sails through the air…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And drives him into the mat with a flipping neck snap! Wildchild rolls him over for a cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

But only gets two! WC pulls Jimmy to his feet and whips him across the ring, but the Straight-Breader reverses, scooping Wildchild off the canvas as he rebounds and spinning him around, dropping him onto his outstretched thigh with a tilt-a-whirl inverted Atomic Drop! The Doom takes advantage of WC's predicament to run to the ropes and explodes into the air as he rebounds, whipping one foot forward…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… And sends Wildchild flipping backwards with a flying snap kick to the face! Jimmy leans against the ropes, still snarling in frustration as the fans give him a verbal salute:

 

 

DOOM!

DOOM!

DOOM!

DOOM!

 

"Nice aggressive move by Jimmy the Doom," says King. "And it looks like that attempt by Wildchild to steal the match woke something up in him."

 

"Well, Doomtopians are notorious for their hot-blooded tempers," adds Mak solemnly. "Jimmy the Doom's like a rocket, and we all know how dangerous it is to get a rocket in the red… they could blow!" Jimmy bounces off the ropes and leaps into the air to crash down into WC's sternum with a headbutt! He then reaches over to hook the leg as Herrington dives into position:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jimmy pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a front facelock, before reaching down to grab him by the leg with his hand and lift him up off the canvas, falling backwards as he slams the Champion back down with a vertical suplex! The Straight-Breader floats over into a pinning predicament:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two, but Jimmy immediately applies another lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two yet again. Jimmy claps his hands together to indicate that the referee should count faster, and then pulls WC to his feet and whips him across the ring, doubling him over with a roundhouse kick to the midsection as he bounces off the ropes, and then blasts him in the temple with a ferocious palm thrust! Jimmy rolls WC over and hooks the leg:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

Jimmy hooks the leg a second time:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

"You have to admire the aggression by Jimmy the Doom," says Mak. "He's really going after the pinfall!"

 

"It's always a good idea to go for the pin whenever you think you might get one," agrees King. "Not only is there always the chance that you catch your opponent in a lapse of concentration, but it's just smart wrestling: make your opponent expend as much energy as possible by having to push your weight off his chest." The Straight-Breader pulls Wildchild to his feet and stuns him with a headbutt. He then runs to the ropes and springs into the air as he rebounds, corkscrewing his body in midair and smashing Wildchild in the face with a flying back elbow! Jimmy goes for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

Wildchild still has the presence of mind to kick out before three! He attempts to sit up, but the Doom steps in behind him and applies a reverse chinlock.

 

"Good decision by Jimmy the Doom," praises King. "Jimmy's done a good job of forcing Wildchild to burn energy, and how he's using that reverse chinlock to cut off Wildchild's blood flow. And, not only that, but look at how he's leaning on Wildchild's back and forcing him to take shallow breaths; he's effectively cut off Wildchild's air supply as well."

 

"That's going to make that much easier for this hold to be effective," agrees Mak, "because not only is Jimmy limiting the blood flow to Wildchild's brain, but he's also making sure that what little blood is getting there has very little oxygen in it!" Wildchild struggles to get back up, but Jimmy sets his feet and pushes back against him, preventing the Champion from getting off the canvas.

 

"For once, you're right about something, Francis," snaps King. "Jimmy's really been dominating this match since that Jimmy Bomb… If he can keep this up, we could be looking at a new International Champion!" Gradually, Wildchild begins to stop struggling as the ring in front of him, and his head begins to droop forward.

 

"First of all, Brian," growls the Franchise, "you'll get further in life if you learn not to disagree with me. And secondly, you're hardly in any position doubt my wrestling knowledge. My record speaks for itself; it's certainly more impressive than yours!"

 

"You think so?" snaps King. "You want to compare careers? Fine, let's start with a World Title count!" Wildchild surges forward one more time to try and escape the chinlock, but to no avail.

 

"Yeah, right," snickers Mak. "The Stan Stasiak of the SWF is going to lecture ME about championships… I'm the greatest ICTV Champion of all time! Three-time United States Champion! I carried this company on my back for two freaking years! What did you ever do besides have a cup of coffee with the World Title, other than get your ass handed to you by Stevens?"

 

Ignorant of the bickering by the two commentators, WC's eyes flicker as he appears to begin to lose consciousness. After they remain closed for several seconds, Red Herrington lifts grabs his right arm and lifts it into the air.

 

"Hold on a second, jackass!" snaps Mak. "We've got something going on in the ring!"

 

"Who are you calling a…"

 

"Shut up!" interrupts Francis, as WC's arm falls lifelessly to his side. "Referee Red Herrington just raised Wildchild's hand, and it dropped!" Herrington raises his arm a second time, only to receive the same result.

 

"That's twice!" proclaims King. "One more time, and we've got a new International Champion!" Herrington raises WC's hand a third time and releases it…

 

 

 

 

… BUT IT STAYS UP!

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

"Not yet!" shouts Mak. "It looks like Wildchild still has some fight left in him!" Wildchild's arms begin to shake as his body surges with a final burst of adrenaline. He rolls onto his knees and begins to push himself up.

 

"I can't believe it," says King. "I didn't know that Wildchild had that kind of resilience in him!"

 

"You've been saying that a lot in this match, King," mocks Francis. "I'm not sure whether it's because you've never bothered to actually be a responsible broadcast commentator and do your homework on the wrestlers, or whether you just have no earthly idea what Wildchild is capable of!"

 

Wildchild gets back to his feet and thrusts an elbow into Jimmy's midsection, but he can't quite get free of the chinlock. He jams another elbow into the Doom's breadbasket, followed by a third, and a fourth. After finally jarring Jimmy's hands loose, the Bahama Bomber snaps the challenger's head back with a quick left jab! WC nails Jimmy with three more left jabs before nailing him with a right cross that sends him staggering backwards, and then runs towards the edge of the ring. Wildchild picks up speed as he bounces off the ropes…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Straight-Breader leaps into the air and catches him as he rebounds with a standing dropkick! He quickly scampers over to Wildchild and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— KICKOUT!

 

 

"Two count!" shouts Mak. "But that was excellent ring awareness by Jimmy the Doom! I loved the extension on the dropkick!" Jimmy pulls WC to his feet and applies a rear waistlock; he then lifts the Champion overhead, pivoting on his left heel and spinning around before falling backwards, slamming Wildchild near the edge of the ring with a corkscrew German suplex!

 

"Jimmy-Plex, and well executed!" praises King. Jimmy across the ring and rolls into a somersault as he bounces off the ropes, springing off the canvas as he rolls back to his feet and flattening his body out as he stretches into a swan dive pose…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And driving his head into WC's chest with a falling headbutt!

 

"What kind of move was that?" asks a bewildered King, as Jimmy applies a lateral press. "That was like some kind of… rolling headbutt, or something!" Herrington dives into position to make the count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! FOOT ON THE ROPE!

 

 

 

 

"After listening to what you call commentary all night, I'm not surprised that you don't know what that's called," quips Mak fluidly, "as we see Wildchild just escape defeat by getting his foot up on the bottom rope!" Jimmy grabs WC by each side of the head in a head vice and yanks him forcefully to his feet; he then thrusts his right hand sharply at the Champion's throat!

 

"Hand of Doom!" shouts King, as the Straight-Breader rapidly opens and closes the fingers of both hands above his head. "And it looks like he's going for another Jimmy Bomb!" Jimmy grabs WC by the throat with both hands and lifts him up off the canvas, but the Caribbean Cruiser comes up with a desperation counter, getting his feet up and knocking Jimmy backwards with a dropkick! Wildchild uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet as the Doom tumbles back towards the center of the ring. Jimmy quickly scrambles back to his feet and charges across the ring to get his hands on Wildchild…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber drops down to the canvas, pulling the top rope down with him, and Jimmy the Doom goes sailing out to the floor, smacking his head against the ring apron as he falls!

 

"Great heads-up maneuver by Wildchild, to stop Jimmy the Doom's momentum!" shouts Mak. Wildchild gets back to his feet as Red Herrington begins to deliver a count on Jimmy, and then grabs on to the top rope, slinging himself out to the floor with a plancha…

 

 

… Only for the Straight-Breader to catch him in midair! Jimmy slings WC up onto his shoulder and charges towards the corner of the ring…

 

 

SMACK!

 

… But the Human Hurricane slithers down Jimmy's back and pushes the challenger face-first into the solid steel ringpost! Jimmy leans heavily against the post as WC falls backwards to the arena floor, while Red Herrington begins to count both men:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

"King, Wildchild has a lot of heart, and you can really see it showing right now!" says Mak. "No matter what happens in this match, Wildchild has definitely proven in my eyes that he deserves to be here!"

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

Jimmy's Doomtopian constitution allows him to recover enough to walk over to WC and pull him up off the floor and roll him underneath the bottom rope.

 

"That was a smart move by Jimmy the Doom," notes King, as Jimmy climbs onto the apron. "You saw how, even though Red Herrington was getting up into his count, he rolled the champion in first. That shows me that he wants to win the belt; he's not going to settle for a countout win!" Wildchild scrambles to his feet and runs across the ring as Jimmy steps back inside, but the Straight-Breader lifts up on one foot, hopping into the air as WC bounces off the ropes…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And snaps his other leg forward, blasting the Champion in the face with a hopping Crane Kick! Jimmy collapses atop him and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE— NO!

 

 

"Man," says Francis, "I thought he had it on that Yak Kick… King, would you say that Jimmy the Doom has pretty much dominated this match?"

 

"Definitely," confirms King. "And what I like is that every time Wildchild has attempted to mount a comeback, Jimmy the Doom has been able to cut it off; he's been able to stick to his game plan and control the pace of this match. Now, he just needs to hit that big move to put this match away!" Jimmy pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a front waistlock, pivoting on his heel as he lifts the Champion off the canvas and slamming him back down with a belly-to-belly suplex! He gets back to his feet and walks out onto the apron.

 

"I think he might have heard you, King," says Mak, as the Straight-Breader walks over to the corner. "He's heading up to the top!" Jimmy salutes the fans with an enthusiastic golf clap before leaping from the top turnbuckle, flipping forward and rotating his body 540 degrees as he plummets towards the canvas…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… AND LANDS DEAD ON THE TOP OF HIS HEAD AS WILDCHILD ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY!

 

 

THAT WAS SICK!

THAT WAS SICK!

THAT WAS SICK!

THAT WAS SICK!

 

 

"Damn!" exclaims Francis. "That HAD to hurt!" WC crawls over to the corner as Jimmy clutches his head in pain.

 

"Ya think?" snipes King. "That's exactly why I've always hated that sort of high-risk garbage… if it weren't for the denser bones that come with his Doomtopian physiology, they'd be putting this guy in the ground right now!"

 

Jimmy rolls onto his stomach, flinching in pain as he looks up towards the Champion. Ignoring the cries from his spinal column, the Straight-Breader pulls himself to his feet and trundles over to the corner, only for WC to stun him with a kick to the midsection! Wildchild tries to kick him again, but Jimmy bats his leg aside and slams his head into the top of WC's head, which has the added affect of stunning and disorienting the challenger. Nonetheless, he recovers enough to grab Wildchild by the wrist and whip him out of the corner, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, sending the Doom back-first into the turnbuckles. Realizing the opportunity at hand, WC charges towards the corner and leaps into the air, twisting around in midair and crashing into Jimmy with his patented Blue Crush! Wildchild takes a few steps back as the Straight-Breader staggers out of the corner and springs into action, blasting the challenger in the back of the head with a step-up Enzugiri! He rolls Jimmy over and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

Jimmy still has the wherewithal to kick out at two! WC rolls out onto the apron and scrambles over to the corner, climbing up to the top turnbuckle. He waits for Jimmy to stand back up and then leaps gracefully from the top rope, snaring the Straight-Breader around the waist as he sails past and pulls him backwards into a Sunset Flip!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

"Kickout by Jimmy the Doom," reports Francis, "but you have to admire the way that Wildchild has come back in this match, King; he hung in there throughout all that punishment by the challenger, and waited until he saw an opportunity to take control!" WC pulls Jimmy to his feet, but the Straight-Breader stuns him with a palm-thrust to the midsection; he spins the Champion around and traps him in an inverted front-facelock as before grabbing him by the leg to lift him up for an inverted cradle Brainbuster… but the Human Hurricane escapes his grasp and rolls over his shoulder. Jimmy turns around, but Wildchild ducks behind him, and as he turns back around, WC nails him in the face with a shuffling sidekick! The Champion collapses atop the challenger for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

But only gets two! Wildchild pulls Jimmy to his feet, but the Straight-Breader still has one last gasp of fight in him, and knocks WC backwards with a headbutt! He shakes his head until he only sees one of the Champion, and then grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring. Jimmy lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop as Wildchild rebounds…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And the Champion drives him face-first into the canvas with the Caribbean Cutter! The crowd begins to become excited as WC pops back to his feet and raises his arms above his head before pulling them down to his chest in that now familiar motion!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"That's the sign for the Wild Ride!" gasps Comet. "If he hits this, it's all over!" Wildchild traps Jimmy in an inverted standing headscissors and reaches back to lock in a double underhook. He then spins around and gets his feet squarely underneath him as he lifts the Straight-Breader onto his shoulders. WC looks out into the crowd and releases a primitive growl before he falls backwards…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

AND PLANTS JIMMY'S HEAD INTO THE CANVAS WITH THE WILD RIDE!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Wild Ride!" croaks Mak, as Wildchild rolls Jimmy over. Seventeen thousand in count along with Red Herrington's hand as it slaps the mat:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"Bouncin' Back" begins to pump through the speakers as Wildchild flops over onto his back, panting like a dog as Red Herrington raises his hand in victory.

 

Funyon rises from his seat at ringside, delivering the International Title to the edge of the ring as he lifts the microphone to his lips. "Here is your winner," he says, "and… STIIIIIL International Champion: the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!"

 

"What a tremendous match by two great competitors!" praises Francis. "Jimmy the Doom turned in his best match to date but, in the end, Wildchild was able to retain the International Championship!"

 

Melissa supports Wildchild as he rolls out of the ring, and Red Herrington delivers the International Title back to him, raising the Bahaman's hand in victory…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT[/color]

[chirs3 0]

This isn’t your average match.

 

This isn’t your average setting.

 

This isn’t your average feud.

 

This isn’t your average script.

 

…

 

This is war.

 

SWF Battleground 2006 returns from its previous break. The Alltel Stadium comes alive as the television cameras light up. The Jacksonville crowd jumps to their feet, the electricity flowing after a high-impact show so far only to get better as the night goes on. With an amazing show so far, only two matches remain; two matches that are thought to shake to the foundation on which this company lies on. The Canadian Death Match for the World Heavyweight Title…and the upcoming Street Fight.

 

“Welcome back to Battleground!” says The Suicide King, “Up next, we have one of the most anticipated matches in SWF history!”

 

“I’m anticipating my former protégé getting killed by HIS former protégé,” Mak says coldly.

 

“Both of these men are focused on tonight’s match…now lets get underway!”

 

Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand.

 

“The following contest is a Street Fight! There will be no count-outs and no-disqualifications, with pin-falls being allowed anywhere in the building! First, making his way to the ring…”

 

The crashing guitars of Lamb of God's "Black Label" send a bolt through the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally…

 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

 

The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black hoodie on, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an "X", symbolizing his Straight Edge life style.

 

"Hailing from Hollywood, California, and weighing in at 220 pounds… this is 'HOLLYWOOD' SPIKE JENKINS!!!!!"

 

“FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!”

 

Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his now short, but still hanging dyed hair. He puts his arms together, forming an "X" across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style.

 

“Look at him Mak. He sure has grown since going through your camp and passing in flying colors.” Suicide King points out Spike’s skill level.

 

"AND HIS OPPONENT!" booms Funyon.

 

The arena goes black as the words…

 

“I’m Born!”

 

 

 

“I’m Alive!”

 

 

 

 

“I Breathe!”

 

 

…Flash across the Smarktron. “Vitamin” by Incubus starts up as the crowd immediately jumps to their feet. After a moment of build-up, Zyon emerges through the curtain, stopping at the top of the stage and looking directly at Spike.

 

“Here we go, folks!” laughs King, “Time for a war!”

 

Spike slips out of the ring and begins to casually walk up towards the stage. Zyon pulls his t-shirt off over his head, tosses it to the side and charges towards Spike! The fans jump towards the guardrail as Spike and Zyon meet up in the center! They both immediately throw themselves at each other, locking up with a clinch and rapidly throwing right hands at the other!

 

“And this match is underway!”

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

Both use their left hand to grab onto the others hair and use their right hand to punch at each other. Both going full force, the fans in the front row by the guardrail scream for Zyon to destroy Spike. Zyon gains the upper hand, knocking Spike backwards with a punch to the face! Spike stumbles back, Zyon charges towards Spike…but Jenkins drives his knee into the Unique Youth’s gut. Zyon kneels over, allowing Spike to push him upright…

 

 

CHOP!

 

 

…And delivers one of the most brutal chops ever seen on television! Zyon stumbles back, but Spike pushes him upright again…

 

 

CHOP!

 

 

…Another chop that knocks Zyon into the guardrail. The Florida crowd slaps the back of Zyon for moral support, as Jenkins grabs him by the wrist and Irish whips him…but Zyon reverses and sends Spike crashing into the opposite guardrail! Spike grabs at his back as Zyon charges in with a forearm to the face! The stunned Jenkins stands there as Zyon pulls back…

 

 

CHOP!

 

 

CHOP!

 

 

…And delivers two huge knife-edged chops!

 

“Yes! Get him, Zyon!” Mak cheers from the announcers’ booth.

 

“Don’t go jumping out of your wheel chair now, Mak.”

 

Spike pushes Zyon away and staggers towards the ring, but the former protégé of the Hollywood Superstar follows behind. Zyon spins Jenkins around and clobbers him with a forearm to the face and another knife-edge chop followed by a jab to the jaw that rocks Spike! He falls backwards into the apron, allowing Zyon to grab him by his hair and unload some more right hands to the forehead! He grabs Spike by the wrist and Irish whips him towards the guardrail…but Spike reverses and Irish whips Zyon back first into the steel mesh!

 

“BOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“Spike Jenkins reverses the momentum Zyon had going for him,” says Mak, “As he throws Zyon into the guardrail.”

 

He charges towards Zyon and smashes him in the side of the face with a running forearm! He pushes Zyon into an upright position and chops him across the chest! Spike grabs Zyon by the hair, and in front of all the fans in the front row, slaps him right across the face, knocking the spit out of his mouth!

 

“How disrespectful!” shouts Mak, “I can’t believe I helped train this kid.”

 

“You do know that he has tried to kill Zyon, right? Like, actual homicide…”

 

Jenkins pulls Zyon away from the fans and drags him over to the ring, where he rolls him in underneath the bottom rope. Spike follows him into the ring, getting to his feet and standing over the Unique Youth. Zyon gets to his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet, but Spike drives a forearm into the back of the head, knocking him down. He stalks around Zyon, planting boots to the back of the head, leaving the former Cruiserweight Champion in a heap. He grabs Zyon by his hair and pulls him up to his knees, but quickly knocks him back down with a right hand to the side of the head. The youngster lays stunned on the mat, as Jenkins drops down and wraps his hands around his opponents neck, trying to choke the life out of him!

 

“He’s choking Zyon!” cries Mak.

 

“AGAIN!”

 

The referee circles the two looking worried, not being able to break the choke. Zyon claws at Spikes hands and kicks his legs into the air, trying to get the New Straight Edge Sensation off of him, but Spike lets go under his own merits. Jenkins gets to his feet and walks around the ring with a cocky grin on his face. He walks over toward the corner in front of the announcers’ table, climbs up to the middle rope and laughs at the misfortune of new SWF commentator, Mak Francis.

 

“I hate him with a passion, King.”

 

“He is the reason why you can’t go back to Philadelphia and play basketball with your homies…”

 

Mak takes his eyes off of Spike and shoots a glare at King.

 

“I mean…Hey, let us go back to the match!”

 

Spike turns his attention back to Zyon and stalks over towards his opponent. Zyon attempts to climb to his feet, but Spike grabs him by the hair and pulls him up. He slams his fist into the side of The Unique Youths head, knocking him back into a corner. Spike pulls his arm back…

 

CHOP!

 

 

CHOP!

 

 

 

 

CHOP!

 

…And connects with three rapid knife-edged chops that send goose bumps down the spine of everybody in attendance…except for Mak Francis. He kind of has a hard time feeling anything. Zyon pushes Spike away and stammers out of the corner. Leaning against the ropes to support him, Zyon tries to get away from the incoming Jenkins, but its no use. Spike comes up behind him and levels him with a forearm to the back of the head, sending him into the corner again. The Hollywood Superstar doesn’t give Zyon any time to catch his breath as he slaps him hard across the face! Zyon tries to shake it off, but gets a second slap across the face! And a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!

 

“Spike is just slapping the taste out of Zyon’s mouth!”

 

Jenkins pulls Zyon out of the corner and pushes him up against the ropes. Grabbing him by the wrist, he Irish whips him towards the opposite of the ring. Zyon bounces off the ropes and charges back towards the awaiting Spike, who lashes at him with a clothesline…that Zyon ducks! Both Spike and Zyon stop short and turn towards each other at the same time, but Zyon is the first to act as he leaps into the air and connects with a dropkick that knocks Spike to the mat!

 

“Zyon connects with the dropkick and takes back the advantage!”

 

Both men get to their feet, Spike a little woozy from the dropkick. Zyon takes this opportunity to drive his forearm into the face of Jenkins, knocking him back into the corner, and…

 

CHOP!

 

 

 

CHOP!

 

…Connects with two knife-edged chops! He grabs Spike by the wrist and Irish whips him towards the opposite corner, which Spike crashes into back first! He bounces out of the corner and is met with the charging Zyon who hits another dropkick! Both men hit the mat but roll to their feet. Zyon charges at Spike, pushing him back into the corner and unloading on him with wild rights and lefts! Letting out all his frustrations on the person who has tried to kill him, Zyon slams his fist into the top of the head of Jenkins! Spike tries to cover up the best he could, but Zyon just pounds away on him. He waits for Zyon to lighten up a bit and pushes the youngster back, but Zyon charges in with a forearm to the face! He grabs the stunned Jenkins’ wrist and Irish whips him across the ring into the opposite corner! Spike hits the turnbuckles back first and bounces back off of them…into a back body drop by the Unique Youth!

 

“Big back body drop by Zyon!” shouts Mak.

 

“Can you do a backdrop from your wheel chair, Mak? HA!”

 

Spike lands hard on the mat and quickly rolls towards the ropes…but Zyon stops him. Zyon jumps on top of Spike and begins unloading rapid right hands to the face of Jenkins! The crowd roars for the beating Zyon is giving Spike!

 

“This hasn’t really been a wrestling match more than a fight, King!”

 

“Did anyone expect this to be a wrestling match?”

 

Jenkins pushes Zyon off of him and quickly rolls towards the ropes again. He crawls out underneath the bottom rope head first, trying to get out of the ring…but Zyon comes up behind him. Zyon grabs onto the top rope, pulls back, and slingshots himself over it…and comes crashing down on the back of Spike Jenkins with a leg drop that drives him chest first into the apron!

 

“ZYON! ZYON! ZYON!”

 

“The Unique Youth with a slingshot leg drop over the top rope out onto the floor!” says Mak, “Amazing acrobatic abilities!”

 

“Erm…No. Far too easy.”

 

Spike clutches his chest as he slips off the apron and falls to the floor. Zyon hovers over the fallen Hollywood Superstar and begins planting boots to the back of the head! He reaches down, grabbing Spike by his hair and pulls him up to his feet. He drags him over to the ring apron and rolls him back into the ring. Zyon follows close behind, getting to his feet and picking Spike up…but Spike pushes Zyon back and unloads with a knife-edged chop followed by a slap to the face! Spike rushes in with two forearms to the side of the head, knocking Zyon back into the ropes. He grabs Zyon by the wrist and Irish whips him into the opposite ropes…but Zyon reverses it and Irish whips Spike…but Spike reverses that and Irish whips Zyon! Zyon hits the ropes and bounces back…into a straight-on kick to the balls by Spike!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“A blatant low blow!” shouts Mak.

 

“If only Spike could get punished for it…oh well.”

 

Zyon kneels over, clutching his groin as Spike charges backwards into the ropes. He bounces off the ropes and flies back towards Zyon, leaps into the air and drives his boot right into the side of the face, knocking him back through the middle and top rope and out onto the apron!

 

“Flying Yakuza Kick by Jenkins!” shouts The Suicide King.

 

“FUCK YOU, JENKINS! FUCK YOU, JENKINS!”

 

Spike gets to his feet and staggers towards Zyon. He reaches over the top rope, grabbing Zyon by the hair and pulling him up to his feet on the apron. He locks Zyon in a front face lock and hooks him up for a suplex over the top rope into the ring!

 

“Spike is going to try and suplex Zyon from the ring apron into the ring!”

 

Spike lifts Zyon up…but Zyon pulls all his weight down to stop the Hollywood Superstar from getting him into the ring. He slams his fist into the ribcage of Jenkins, grabs him by his camouflage shorts and lifts him up for a suplex from the ring apron to the floor!

 

“Zyon is going to suplex Spike from inside the ring out to the floor!” cries Mak!

 

Zyon lifts Spike into the air, holds him for a few moments and goes to drop back…but Spike moves his weight around and lands on his feet on the ring apron next to Zyon!

 

“OOOOOOHHHH!”

 

Spike breaks away from the clinch. He makes distance between him and Zyon on the ring apron, but rushes in with a knife-edged chop to the chest! Zyon stumbles back, but regains his balance and returns with his own knife-edged chop! Spike stumbles back as well, but comes back with another…no…a rake to the eyes! Zyon staggers back, leaving enough room for Spike to charge at him, dive, and drive his shoulder into the midsection with a spear! Spike falls off the apron, but lands on his feet on the floor as Zyon smacks into the ring apron and falls face first to the floor!

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

“Spear on the apron!” cries Mak, “An incredible maneuver that has to have taken a lot out of Zyon!”

 

Spike leans against the guardrail, catching evil glares from the Florida crowd in the front row. Zyon clutches his ribs, rolling around in pain on the cold floor. Spike catches his breath as he stalks over towards the Unique Youth, grabbing him by his hair and dragging him over towards the announcers’ table.

 

“What is going on here?” questions Mak.

 

Spike pulls Zyon up to his feet, but quickly slams him head first into the announcers’ table…and again…and again…and again! He lets Zyon double over onto the announcers’ table, as he looks square at Mak Francis.

 

“What do you want now? You piece of shit!”

 

Spike grins…as he climbs up onto the announcers’ table?

 

“What the hell is he doing?” asks King.

 

Spike looks down at Mak and laughs…as he places his boot on the side of Zyon’s face and presses down with all his weight, sandwiching the youngsters face in between his boot and the table!

 

“For the love of God!” cries Mak.

 

Spike laughs at Mak’s reaction as Zyon’s limbs flail around. He pushes up against Spikes’ foot and is finally able to get the Hollywood Superstar off of him. Zyon collapses to the floor, grabbing at his face. Spike continues standing on the announcers’ table, playing up to the crowd and Mak Francis.

 

“I don’t know what happened to the young man that was studying under me a couple years ago…”

 

“He broke your neck.”

 

“Shut up, King.”

 

Spike looks down at Zyon, who is still lying on his back, clutching his face. Spike gets a bright idea, and leaps off the table…and comes crashing down with both of his boots into the chest of Zyon!

 

“DOUBLE STOMP OFF THE ANNOUNCERS TABLE!” shouts King.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 

Spike stumbles forward, landing on his knees. He regains his balance and laughs it off, looking behind him at Zyon, who is now gasping for breath. Spike climbs to his feet and laughs at the people in the front row calling for his head.

 

“I don’t think Zyon came into this match ready for a fight like this, King.”

 

“Well, what did he expect? Spike to just roll over and let him win? Spike is going to punish Zyon every way imaginable before he finishes him off…just like he did to you.”

 

Forcing the youth to his feet, Spike opens his hand, and yes disrespects his former protégé with an open handed slap to the face! The intense grinding between Zyon’s teeth echoes as the youth brings the crowd back to life by tossing a right hand towards the Hollywood Superstar!!!

 

“Yeah…”

 

Prepared to just explode for their hero, the crowd’s expectations begin to falter as it becomes painfully clear that the New Straight Edge Sensation holds all the cards in his left hand, and in his right…

 

…Zyon’s right hand. Continuing to grind his teeth, the intense look on Zyon’s face changes to belittlement as Spike shifts his weight, Irish whipping the Unique Youth face first into the steel ring post! Bouncing off the cold steal like a pinball, Zyon falls against the safety guardrail as his fans cry out to him…

 

“C’mon you can do it!”

 

“These people still haven’t given up on this kid”

 

“Yeah that’s a good thing. I mean if you would have given up on Spike, you wouldn’t be in a wheel chair.” King scoffs back at his colleague as he scoots farther away from Mak.

 

Walking up toward the dejected youngster, Spike slides his hands through his brand spanking new hair cut, causing the style to change from flat to a little bit of a spike. Gathering up the sweat he has poured out of his pores, Spike stuns Zyon with a wicked back handed smack!!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Many in the front row are ready and willing to leap at the straight edger…and then they take a look at Mak. Yeah, not a good idea at all. Just as Zyon looks to be ready to give his former mentor another go around, Spike punishes the youth with a knee to the gut! Enjoying the satisfaction he gets from Zyon falling to the ground clutching his stomach, Spike decides to lend a helping hand to the youngster, helping him to his feet…

 

…Just to drive his knee into his opponent’s sternum again!

 

“GAH!”

 

Zyon gasps as he falls to his knees, clutching his stomach. This leaves Spike to meet the people calling for his death face to face.

 

“FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!”

 

Once again the New Straight Edge Sensation slides his hands through his bleach blond hair before tossing his middle finger at the Floridians.

 

“No…fuck you!”

 

“Well it’s good to know Spike still earns enough to pay five digit fines. Shoot if I did something like that I would be put in debt.”

 

“King, you would be fired.” Mak plays the straight man, which he does even better now that he’s in a wheel chair.

 

Swinging his leg backward, Spike launches his foot forward in a soccer punt. Slamming his foot against Zyon’s head, Spike watches with satisfaction as the youth’s head bounces off the steal safety guardrail!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Some portions of the crowd is forced to look away as Spike continues to deliver sinful strikes to the youth’s head.

 

“CRACK (Foot to skull) CLING (Skull to steal)!”

 

“CRACK… CLING!”

 

“CRACK… CLING!!”

 

The rookie referee almost acts on the defensive, wanting to pull Spike away from the helpless youth. Then he looks at Mak Francis. Yeah, that’s a bad idea. Without a care in the world, Spike hoists the youth back to his feet, and then into his deadly arms. Scooping the youth in a front power slam, Spike takes a step forward!

 

“He’s going to drive Zyon’s back into the steel ring post!” Mak shouts.

 

Not only did Mak shout, but he also got the attention of the man that crippled him. Turning his head away from his stationary adversary, Spike grins at his former mentor…

 

“CRACK!!!”

 

…Blinded by his arrogance, Spike is shocked…SHOCKED I TELL YA when Zyon sends a spark through Spike’s body with a heinous elbow to the neck! Swinging back out on to his feet, Zyon straddles his arm across Spike’s body while weaving his foot around Spike’s. Ignoring the crowd who desperately chant his name, Zyon falls backward with his version of the reverse Russian leg sweep…

 

Otherwise known as a flatliner.

 

Otherwise knows as the Decline.

 

Otherwise known as DRIVING SPIKE’S FACE INTO THE STEEL RING POST!!!

 

“HEY! Did Zyon forget that the steel ring post was behind him? Damnit that type of violence in uncalled for.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mak shakes his head from side to side…or not.

 

Rolling away from the straight edger, Zyon leaps on to the ring apron, waiting for Spike to rise back to his feet. Clawing at his face, Spike pulls his hands away slowly…revealing splotches of blood covering his hand!! Preoccupied by the shock of his own blood, Spike misses the discovery that involves his opponent’s feet driving into his chest with an apron assisted missile dropkick!!!! The impact of having Zyon’s feet slam into his chest sends the Hollywood Superstar barrow rolling into the steel guardrail.

 

“YYYEEEEEAAAHHHH!”

 

Refusing to give such a despicable man time to regain his composure, Zyon picks his opponent up, Irish whipping him across the arena, and into the far safety guardrail. Clutching his back as blood continues to trickle down his forehead, Spike’s eyes grow to the size of pig nuts as Zyon takes off in a dead sprint. Gripping the guardrail Spike times his actions PERFECTLY as the youth leaps into the air, helpless against Spike who spins away from the guardrail. Unknown to the Hollywood Superstar is the fact that Zyon is now waiting perched on top of the safety guardrail…

 

…Known to Spike is that Zyon is leaping off from his elevated state looking to drive his arm into Spike’s crimson mask! Skipping backward, Spike avoids the diving lariat, but Zyon easily rebounds by landing on his feet…and then lunging at the attempted murderer.

 

“SMACK!”

 

“Did you see that Mak? Spike just chopped that spot monkey out of the sky.”

 

Dropping to one knee, Zyon chooses to clutch his chest instead of guarding his face! This moment of ignorance allows Spike to swing his leg toward the youth’s head like a bat swinging at a ball…for the game winning home run.

 

“CR…SWISH!”

 

STRRRRRIIIIIIIIKKKKKEEEEE!

 

Ducking his head just in the knick of time, Zyon avoids the sure bet decapitation, rolling to the side locating himself at the bottom of the metallic entrance ramp. Fury pumping through his veins, cutting off the circulation to his brain, ya know…the part that causes Spike to forget about logical wrestling.

 

This is a street fight after all.

 

Sprinting toward his evasive opponent, Spike unwillingly feels his feet lock up as he falls toward the steel ramp with arm flailing in random directions!

 

“Hey King! Did you see that? Spike just fell victim to a drop toehold. Did you see it?” Mak mocks King and his “Did you see it” comments.

 

Spinning away from Spike, Zyon pumps his fist toward the crowd.

 

A crowd that stays quiet.

 

A crowd that valiantly warns the youth to turn around.

 

Spinning on his toes, the Unique Youth struggles in a trapping front face lock before being SPIKED into the metallic ramp with SPIKING DDT performed by SPIKE!!!

 

“MAKKKKK! Did you see…”

 

“SHUT UP!”

 

Bouncing off the metal, Zyon’s eyes roll into the back of his head before dropping back down where they are supposed to be. Bewildered by his former mentor’s sudden immortality, a flashback has the answers, which is quite simple as given by the Gambling Man of all people.

 

“Spike can really be brilliant at times. Sure the drop toehold caught him off guard, and yes his arms were flailing all over the place. But his hands ended up on the ramp, protecting his face from the punishment. Brilliant.”

 

Pulling himself up from crouched position he was just in, Spike looms over his motionless opponent, and opts to NOT go for the cover. Wondering over toward the ring, Spike reaches under the apron, pulling out an old fashion Kendo stick! Twirling the weapon like a pro, Spike sets the Christian Fury special on the ring apron as he sets his sights on his downed opponent. Forcing the youth back to his feet by his hair, Spike drags his former pupil to where the steel steps are. Drawing Zyon’s head back, Spike’s grip hardens as he sends the youngster face first into the steel steps! Slouching down to the floor, Zyon’s knees rest against the padding covering the unforgiving concrete while the rest of his body sleeps against the cold steps. Gripping the Kendo stick in his right hand, Spike uses it to point out the approximate area that the Hollywood Superstar wants to demolish…

 

…That of course being Zyon’s back. Usually someone who wrestles with a T-shirt, the youth decided to show off for the ladies wearing his bare skin instead. Multiple scraps and cuts illustrate what the youth has been through so far…

 

…And what Spike has done.

 

Mak attempts to stand up, but remembers that he is bound to the chair that Spike put him in, “Spike don’t do this! He can’t even defend himself!”

 

Mak’s plea falls on deaf ears or ears that are too distant. With the simple fling of his wrist and the brandishing of a cold smile the Kendo stick snaps against the youth’s skin!

 

“WHACK!!!”

 

Reaching back to clutch his back, Zyon shuts his eyes, attempting to ignore the stinging sensation located behind him. However, the Unique Youth can’t psychologically forget about the giant whelp that currently scars his body.

 

“WHACK!!!”

 

Tightening his eyes, Zyon wishes to keep them closed as another whelp immediately pops up.

 

“WHACK!!!”

 

The portion of the audience that desires to watch the gory Spike punish the outstanding youth remains mute, silenced by the shock that emanates from every…

 

“WHACK!!!”

 

…Single shot to the back. With the back of his opponent morphing into an unnatural purple, Spike clutches the flimsy weapon with both hands! Flexing his muscles, the veteran drives the Kendo stick in a horizontal motion until it comes to a halt due to the Unique Youth’s back.

 

“CRACK!!!”

 

"AWWWW!”

 

“Man this is pretty…messed up.” King notes.

 

The Gambling Man is even forced to admit Spike’s heinous actions as anything but civil. King along with the rest of the Alltel Stadium watches in horror as Spike drops the snapped Kendo Stick to the ground; admiring the “art” he created on his “canvas.”

 

“Let’s Go Zyon!”

 

The disconsolate crowd starts as the competitive youth strives to pull himself back to his feet. Slowly, ascending the stairs, Spike stops on the second step as he once again places his foot on top of Zyon’s head. Clinching his fists, Spike begins to pour on the revulsion as he puts pressure on the youth’s head, crushing it between his foot and the stairs. Grinding his foot into the youth’s temple, Spike treats his former pupil like a random insect that you would find in everyday life.

 

He used to be his best friend.

 

Now he’s just a fucking insect.

 

“Gahhh!”

 

Zyon shrills as Spike finally decides to release Zyon of his torment…if only for the time being. Lifting his foot into the air, Spike watches as the weak form of his opponent lumps down to the floor. Arrogantly strutting down the steps, Spike looks at one of the youngsters in the crowd, and performs a throat slicing gesture…that motherfucker.

 

…

 

Massive jeering would go in that spot, but the crowd can only look on in astonishment.

 

“King, what is that psycho doing now?”

 

“Ugh…you really don’t want to know.”

 

“Fool! I’m not blind. The question was rhetorical.”

 

Zyon’s hopes could be meeting a sudden death as Spike peels the black safety padding back to reveal…emotion.

 

Pain.

 

Anger.

 

Hatred.

 

Envy.

 

Paranoia.

 

Oh yeah.

 

Concrete.

 

Smoothly, Spike lifts his former protégé back to his wobbly feet…taking a moment to stare the kid right in the eye…

 

…Before tucking him in with a standing head scissor!!!!!

 

“Could we be in store for a Ratings Crash on the goddamn concrete!”

 

“Hey Mak! Chill out would ya? We both know god has nothing to do with Spike Jenkins in this point of his life.” The Gambling Man speaks the truth.

 

With that specific red liquid trickling down his face, Spike looks to be transforming into a demon right before the crowd’s haunting eyes. Suddenly, the evil inside of Jenkins is pushed into the deep end of the river as Zyon brings forth the light as he tosses Spike back with a back body drop counter!!!!

 

“ZYON! ZYON! ZYON!”

 

The crowd cheers religiously as the youth rests on his knees while Spike spasms on the bitter concrete. Picking himself up, Zyon uses what is left of his increasing morale to roll Spike into the ring…where it should be safe. Where Zyon can avoid becoming a victim to Spike’s disease.

 

There are no victims in war.

 

Hoisting Spike back to his feet, the wounded youth Irish whips him into the far corner. Falling into the harsh turnbuckle back first, Spike is helpless to stop the youth who charges in with a diving shoulder to his opponent’s sternum! Listening to Spike gasp for air elevates the youth’s confidence as he kicks his foot backward, sending him in with another shoulder charge to the gut!

 

“BANG!”

 

With the eye popping attacks effecting Spike’s stable control on the life and death struggle located in the ring, Zyon begins to unleash the demon forming inside him with a barrage of shoulder charges.

 

“BANG!”

 

“BANG!”

 

“BANG!”

 

“BANG!”

 

“BANG!”

 

“BANG!”

 

“That’s the way kid. FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE!!!” The unbiased Canadian cheers on the youngster.

 

“BANG!”

 

“FUCKING BANG!!!!”

 

Zyon collapses to one knee as he vigorously tries to catch his breath. Inhaling and exhaling, Zyon looks to be in control, as Spike looks completely shell shocked by the force exerted from the youth. With his sternum on the verge of imploding, Spike’s eye begins to fade, but not before they see Zyon sustain himself for a second wave of fighting fire with fire. Throwing himself toward his opponent, the Unique Youth forgets to do one thing that not even a SUPER DRAGON SUPLEX could teach him.

 

That is to defend.

 

“CRACK!”

 

With less than a second left before being annihilated by another pair (Multiplied by like 7) of shoulder charges, Spike was able to strike Zyon with a kick to the face that sends the youth sprawling to his knees. Staggering out from the turnbuckle, the Hollywood Superstar positions himself in front the youth, slashing him with a swift kick in the chest!

 

“SMACK!”

 

Ok, make that two.

 

“SMACK!”

 

Channeling the spirit of a man who does a horrible Bruce Lee impression, Spike dances from side to side before channeling his foot into the crouching youth’s face!

 

“SWISH!!!”

 

Well that was the plan. A plan that Spike has constructed in every match since his days in the Junior League. Lunging in an angle toward the spinning Spike, Zyon extends his legs straight out, pushing them into Spike’s chest with a brutal SNAP dropkick that sends the Hollywood Superstar flailing to the canvas. Clutching his chest, Spike sways away from Zyon, leaning against the ropes for refuge. Peering into the youth’s unorthodox movements, Spike trudges along the offensive path as he sends his foot forward with his patented Last Dance super kick!!!

 

“CLASP!”

 

Recognizing the result as a complete and utter failure, Spike hops around on one foot while the crowd orders for Zyon to bash his brains in. Throwing his hands to the side, Zyon spins Spike around in a complete 360! Tossing a right hand toward the sinful Jenkins, Zyon leaves himself open for a DISCUSS ROARING ELBOW that sends the youngster struggling to remain on his feet. Regaining his center of gravity, Spike takes off in a fit of rage, DECAPITATING the youth with a high impact lariat!!!!! Twisting through the air, Zyon goes crashing to the canvas back first!

 

“WHOOOO! Mak, you wanted to believe that Zyon was regaining the advantage. All it takes is one boost of fury, and Spike is back in control.”

 

The power radiating from the lariat forces Spike to stammer forward into the ropes. Resting both hands on the top rope, Spike stares at the blood stained canvas below him, and then at the jeering Alltel Stadium.

 

And he smiles.

 

Wondering back over toward his bewildered opponent, Spike forces the youth back to his feet ONLY TO RECEIVE A RIGHT HAND FOR HIS TROUBLES!!

 

“YEAAHAHAH!!!!”

 

The crowd responds in kind to Zyon’s refusal to die. Of course, leave it to Spike to retort with an unsympathetic shotei that sends Zyon falling down into the second rope. Clutching his face, the Unique Youth has realized that his throat his hanging over the middle rope as he attempts to regain his composure. Following Zyon to the second ropes is the Hollywood Superstar who out of unsanctioned aggravation SLAMS his foot into Zyon’s ribs!!!

 

“CRACK!”

 

Noticing Zyon’s meticulous position across the middle ropes, Spike decides to loosen up a bit as he steps on the youth’s skull, choking him across the middle rope!

 

“REF he can’t breathe!”

 

“Well duh Mak. That’s the point. Is that brace some how stopping the blood flow to your brain?” King burns Mak with another insult.

 

Once it becomes apparent that Spike is no longer having fun by forcing his opponent’s face to shadow with a cold shade of blue, the straight edger sets Zyon back on his feet, against the ropes. Flattening his palm, Spike delivers another slicing chop to the youth’s battered skin.

 

“SMACK!”

 

What the hell? How about a few more.

 

“SMACK!”

 

“SMACK!”

 

“SMACK!”

 

Shaking the imaginary FIRAAAA off of his hand, Spike actually laughs as Zyon drops to his knees holding his chest. Disregarding the blood that trickles from his forehead, Spike flattens his palm once more as he delivers another scarring chop…to Zyon’s HEAD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone chop someone in the head. That man is a cancer on life.” Mak is beginning to rethink his announcing career, Spike has pretty much mind fucked him.

 

That and he’s crippled him too.

 

Whipping his foot at Zyon’s face, Spike forces the young cruiserweight out of the ring and to the floor. Using the guardrail to push himself off the floor, Zyon turns to see the cold eyes of his deranged opponent staring him down. Unsure of what to do next, the horrified Unique Youth slashes at his opponent’s face with a right hand. With the multitude of Spike’s beat down getting to the youth, Zyon can only watch on in dismay as Spike EASILY dodges the right hand.

 

And for shits and giggles thrusts his knee into the youth’s sternum! Seeing the legs of his opponent give out, Spike shows a moment of mercy as he gives Zyon his shoulder to rest on, disallowing him from hitting the floor in an annihilated heap of human flesh. The New Straight Edge Sensation’s expressionless face turns to pale plain, to that of a blood thirsty monster. Plummeting to his knees, Spike derails Zyon’s future more so with a dramatic Minor Threat.

 

“You know King, I never thought that maneuver would be used with that type of killer instinct.”

 

“It does have a fitting name. It certainly is a threat to Zyon.”

 

Flailing around on the floor, Zyon clutches his throat as Spike watches on…entertained by the prospect of his former best friend’s demise. Handling a nearby string of thick cable, Spike wraps the noose like cable around his former protégé’s neck, strangling his opponent with said object!!!

 

“REF!”

 

“YES MAK! We know that Spike is trying to choke the life out of that untalented spot monkey. As wrong as it might be, we are powerless to do anything about it. Especially you in this case.” The Gambling Man makes a good point.

 

Rising back to his feet with his arms swinging in every direction imaginable, Zyon searches for a way to release the torment he finds himself in. With his breathing lessening by the second, Zyon recognizes the blurry figure of the ring bell sitting directly in front of his. As the picture his eyes reflect begins to distort, the Unique Youth can luckily still feel. This feeling signifies that he holds the ring bell in his hands as he blindly swings up and over his head…

 

“DING!”

 

…Blasting Spike on top of his bleeding skull! Cheering and stomping, the excited Floridians rise back to their feet as they watch both men collapse to the floor!

 

“Both men must be exhausted. Their respective hate must be the only drive to have this match continue.”

 

“That’s not exactly it Mak. The match is continuing simply because Spike wants to kill Zyon. Obviously, Zyon doesn’t want to end up dead…or like you, so he continues to fight back.”

 

“Grinding his teeth, the Canadian responds, “That may be true, but sooner or later one of these two will have to give in. And I hope it’s not Zyon!”

 

Released from his torment, Zyon picks himself back up to his feet, hopping on to the ring apron. Taking a moment to compose himself, the youth begins to ascend the top rope with his back to his now standing opponent! Marveling at his former best friend’s courage, Spike takes a step forward, accidentally placing himself in the wrong place…at the right time. Springing off the top rope, the youth twirls through the atmosphere to the delight of everyone’s Kodak camera’s as he falls on to Spike with a NO REGARD CORKSCREW MOONSAULT TO THE FLOOR!!!!

 

“Holy shit!”

 

A small respective chant breaks out of the youth’s suicidal nature. Crushing Spike’s bloody face on impact, Zyon rolls away from his psycho opposition, using the ring apron to hoist himself back to his unsure feet. Wondering around the ring where the exposed concrete floor is located, Zyon ravages through the toys located under the ring…and pulls out…a table…oh shit.

 

“YEAH!!!”

 

The audience responds in kind as the youth sets the table up, over the cold concrete. Inside the ring is the veteran straight edger who wants no part with that table or any other weapon located on the outside…at least for now. Rolling back into the ring, Zyon tries to swat off the intense Jenkins who delivers an unrelenting pair of boots to the youth’s guarded head. Shoving his former best friend away, Zyon rises back to his feet…ONLY TO RECEIVE A CHOP!

 

“SMACK!”

 

Spinning away from his opponent, the youth falls into the turnbuckle chest first. Open for attack is the Unique Youth’s battered bare skin located on his back, so of course Spike charges for the attack…ONLT TO GET BLASTED BY AN ELBOW INSTEAD.

 

“CRACK!”

 

Staggering away from the youth, Spike is unable to stop Zyon from leaping to the top rope again! With his back to Spike, the youth blindly launches off, turning his body so that he is facing his opponent, and striking him dead with an awesome forearm to the face! Immediately spinning back to his feet, Zyon pumps his fist toward the audience creating an energetic surge of EPIC PROPORTIONS!

 

“ZZZZZYYYYYOOOOONNNNNN!!!!”

 

The audience shills; as the unrelenting youth is now the aggressor as he forces Spike back to his feet. Battering the Hollywood Superstar backward, Zyon blasts his unmerciful opponent with a variety of hard-hitting forearms! Soon Spike’s reverse momentum comes to an end as he finds him trapped in the turnbuckle. Changing his approach, the youth reminisces about all the times, Spike has tried to kill him. Balling his hand into a fist, Zyon unleashes a blitzkrieg of rights and lefts that sends portions of Spike’s blood splattering against the nearby camera!

 

“THAT’S THE WAY KID!” Mak cheers on with the surrounding audience.

 

Attempting to throw his hands up to cover up, Spike diverts Zyon’s attention giving the veteran enough time to toss his foot at the youth’s nether regions! Completely aware of the straight edger’s tactics, Zyon catches the on coming foot much to the Hollywood Superstar’s surprise! Dragging Spike out of the turnbuckle on one foot, Zyon uses his free hand to strike Spike in the face…WITH A CHOP BABY!

 

“SMACK!”

 

“WHAT! Zyon’s just disrespecting Spike now. Some friend…” The Suicide King trails off.

 

Falling to the canvas, but pulling himself up immediately is the stunned psychopath from Hollywood, California. Both men take a moment to stare at each other’s fatigued figure as Spike takes a step forward before being crushed by a leaping wheelbarrow kick to the face! Gaining momentum, Zyon waits as Spike wonders by to his feet, staggering into Zyon who scoops him off the canvas…

 

…Aero Driver?

 

…Yes.

 

….Countered?

 

…Yes.

 

Dropping behind Zyon, Spike turns his youthful opponent around, driving his knee into his opposition’s gut once again. Trapping the youth in a standing head scissor, Spike hoists his opponent up…oh fuck…RATINGS CRASH!!!!

 

“NOOOO!” Mak screams.

 

“Well that spot monkey put up a good fight, but I’d say it’s over.”

 

The heart of every single person in the stadium just dropped as Spike rolls off of Zyon…and to the outside?

 

“Spike what are you doing…HEY!” The Gambling Man shouts as Spike tosses an errant chair at him.

 

Folding up another steel chair, Spike rolls into the ring, and sets the chair up in the middle of the squared circle…before sitting in it!

 

“BOOOOOOO!”

 

“That cocky little bastard…” Mak roars!

 

Zyon remains on the mat motionless after taking the full brunt of the Hollywood Superstar’s finishing maneuver. Carefully, Spike lifts his former best friend to his feet, Irish whipping him across the ring…BUT Zyon counters tossing Spike into the ropes. Bouncing back, Spike grinds his teeth, preparing himself for another lariat. Astonishing the New Straight Edge Sensation, the dazed Unique Youth collapses to the mat, with his foot trapped behind Spike’s…

 

…Which causes a chain reaction of events that ends with Spike crashing face first into the chair due to a drop toe hold!

 

“Zyon should be dead. What the hell is going on?”

 

Bouncing off the chair, Spike clutches his face as Zyon sneaks up on Spike who’s blood stains most of the canvas. Bleeding profusely from the head, the Hollywood Superstar is unable to defend himself properly. Booting his former mentor in the sternum, Zyon hooks his former best friend in a double under hook!

 

“ZYON!”

 

The crowd cries out as the Unique Youth tosses Spike into the air…and on to his shoulders…oh god.

 

“ZYON!”

 

Struggling to keep the opposition balanced on his back, Zyon begins to find a center of gravity as he looks out into the wave of people who chant his name religiously.

 

“ZYON!”

 

Peaking down at the extraordinary Mak Francis, Zyon begins to feel a bit sympathetic. The Canadian was a great athlete and a tremendous wrestler, but now he’s just some cripple in a wheel chair.

 

That is Spike’s fault.

 

“ZYON!”

 

The youngster begins to flash back to the time that he spend hours planning the wedding that will never happen. He spent hours, and came to the “correct” decision to make Spike his best man. That all came crumbling due to his occupation.

 

No…

 

…Due to Spike Jenkins.

 

“ZYON!”

 

Clutching Spike in the reverse firemen’s carry, Zyon has one last memory of the insane Hollywood Superstar attempting to murder his former best friend. Zyon went through weeks of torment, fear, and regret.

 

It was his fault.

 

It was Spike’s fault.

 

With his muscles tensing, and Spike’s blood trickling down his skin, Zyon has came to an important realization.

 

There are no victim’s in war.

 

Sweeping himself off the ground, Zyon KILLS SPIKE DEAD WITH THE I JUST MADE A DECISION TO SAMOAN DROP YOU!

 

Wait what?

 

“Zyon…” Mak whispers.

 

King though is not one to be mute, “What a retard. That man has been trying to kill you. You could have brought poetic justice to the Alltel Stadium by using the I Just Broke Your Neck on Spike. But you settle for a modified Samoan Drop. Disgusting.”

 

Everyone in the audience stares at the sitting youth in disbelief as Zyon makes his way toward the turnbuckle, and begins to ascend the top rope!

 

And the people start applauding.

 

Pushing himself up the turnbuckle, rope by rope. Zyon makes it to the top, immediately taking a swan dive off the top rope, looking to end it all with one last flash of greatness.

 

FINAL FUCKING FLASH!

 

…

…

…

 

“CRASH!!!”

 

“HE MISSED!” King shouts.

 

The Gambling Man breaks the ice as the people cover their face in disbelief. Spike Jenkins will fight on! Folding the chair up, Spike patiently waits as Zyon pulls himself back to his feet….

 

… ”CRACK!!”

 

Clutching his back, Zyon drops to his knees, a recipient of a chair shot to the back. Slamming the chair on the mat, Spike’s crystal blue eyes peer through the blood that controls his face, wrapping Zyon in a double under hook…

 

“SPIKE STOP THIS NOW!” The usually monotone Mak cries out.

 

“THE KID DID THIS TO HIMSELF!”

 

The fans are beginning to riot, some dumb enough to actually want to get into the ring and stop Spike’s reign of terror. Flipping the youth into the atmosphere, Spike positions his body under Zyon’s battered form, hooking his arm around the youth’s head…

 

…And struggling to hook his other arm around his legs. Swinging his legs off of Spike’s shoulders, Zyon finds himself standing on the canvas. Cutting his own legs out from under himself, Zyon collapses to the mat driving Spike down with a neck breaker! With his mystical green eyes twitching and shaking violently, the intense youth immediately rises back to his feet with chair in hand!!

 

“ZYON!”

 

Plunging both hands into the mat, Spike pulls himself up to his feet, thoroughly disappointed that he wasn’t able to ruin his former best friend. Smiling, Spike turns around with the understanding that Zyon will be forced to give in sooner or later…

 

…And then he sees the chair…

 

…And realizes that he already has given in.

 

“CRRRRRRRRRACK!!!”

 

“OHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Swinging for the fences, Zyon crushes Spike’s face with an intense chair shot to the face. Dropping to one knee, the psycho straight edger picks himself back up, so the out of this world youth blasts him again!

 

“CRRRRRRRRRRAAACCCCKK!”

 

Dropping the Hollywood Superstar to both knees, Zyon watches with zero expression, as Spike is drenched in the red liquid that supports his life. Bleeding all over the place, Spike is overwhelmed by Zyon who has absolutely SNAPPED!

 

And guess who’s fault it is?

 

“CRRRRRRRAAAACCCCKKKKK!”

 

The youth swings blasting Spike in his unprotected face!

 

“ZYON!!!”

 

The audience cheers as they watch Spike get what he’s had coming to him.

 

“Good Zyon, now pin him. You’ve got it won kid!” Mak speaks logically.

 

Inhaling and exhaling heavily, Zyon stares at his fallen former mentor who’s only motion is looking up at the lights.

 

“ZYON!”

 

So the Unique Youth irrationally decides to make it his purpose in life to turn Spike’s lights out!

 

“CRACK!”

 

“ZYON!!!”

 

“CRACK!”

 

“ZYON!!”

 

“CRACK!”

 

“ZYON…”

 

With the emotion of nil, Zyon continues to blast Spike repeatedly with the chair. The “lucky” rookie referee orders for Zyon to stop the insanity, and end the match with a simple pin, but his pleas fall on deaf ears.

 

The youth is gone from this world.

 

“CRACK!”

 

The symbolic chanting has ended, as even the Flordians can’t condone what they are witnessed to.

 

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

“CRACK!”

 

…

…

 

“CRRRRRRRRRACCCCCCKKKKKKK!”

 

Bloody, Beaten, bruised, and most importantly unconscious, Spike is pretty much finished. Nobody can deny that, not even the referee who watches Zyon lift the chair over his head for another wave of destruction….

 

…However, the nameless ref is all “fuck that noise” and tackles the frail Zyon to the mat…AND CALLS FOR THE BELL!

 

“IT’S OVER IT’S OVER!!” Mak screams.

 

“DING DING DING!”

 

“Vitamin” by Incubus starts up as the Alltel Stadium is in complete shock. Releasing the dented chair, Zyon simply sprawls out on the canvas, collecting his pride, morals, and honor. All that he lost in the crucifixion of Spike Jenkins.

 

“THE WINNER…BY KNOCK OUT…the UNIQUE YOUTH…ZYYYYON!!”

 

Funyon makes it all official as the reluctant ref raises the hand of the startled youth before exiting the ring…leaving a bit of his own sanity in the war zone.

 

“Neither man is ever going to be the same. Even though Zyon won the battle, and gave Spike what some say he deserved. Spike won the war I tell you. He can still walk, wrestle, run, and play, but because of that bastard lying in the ring. Zyon and I will never be the same again.”

 

“Zyon…who cares about Zyon. Look at Spike. He’s an atrocious mess.”

 

Entering the ringside area is dozens of EMT’s who are out to check on Zyon…and cart the fallen Hollywood Superstar out of the ring. Lifting the motionless Jenkins off the ground, and toward the ropes, the EMT’s set the Hollywood Superstar against the ropes as they set the stretcher up. Staring at the man who taught him the evils of the wrestling business one last time, Zyon turns away, flashing a friendly smile at the crowd as if trying to tell them…

 

“I’m fine.”

 

...

 

...

 

…So is Spike!

 

“What the fuck?” Who cares about expletives?

 

Breaking through the white shirted EMT’s, the black hearted Jenkins lifts the helpless youth in a reverse firemen’s carry.

 

“Spike shouldn’t even be able to move. How is this possible? Zyon just couldn’t finish the job!”

 

Just as Spike is prepared to kill his former protégé, a loud warning siren goes off startling everyone in attendance as Sean Davis reaches the ring through the crowd…behind Spike.

 

“CRACK!”

 

Heaving one of his log like legs at Spike’s rib, the Perfect Storm forces Spike to release Zyon who rolls out of the ring, and retreats up the ramp. Wide eyed, Spike turns to see a man.

 

A man that used to be his stablemate.

 

A man that used to be his friend.

 

A man who was one of Spike’s early victims.

 

Clutching Spike’s throat in his gigantic hand, the Perfect Storm lifts the weak straight edger into the air, and walks toward the edge of the ring. Try as he might, Spike is unable to once again break the reality barriers as Sean Davis tosses him over the top rope with a choke slam…THROUGH THE FUCKING TABLE TO THE CONCRETE AND SPIKE IS FINISHED!!!!

 

Buried under the splattered wood and his own blood, Spike is completely motionless as the EMT’s check on Spike. At the top of the ramp Zyon watches his former mentor get destroyed by the Perfect Storm. Turning his back, the youth washes his hands with the Hollywood Superstar as “Battle Ready” by OTEP blasts over the PA. Looking down at the decimated New Straight Edge Sensation, the Floridians refuse to show Spike any sympathy…

 

…There are no victims in war after all…

 

…Just casualties.

Edited April 30, 2006 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

"Forget the controversy. Forget the unique surroundings. And forget the circumstances that have brought us to this point, because they no longer matter. It has finally come down to this. A one on one match, over the SWF World Heavyweight Champion and settled within a wrestling ring the way it should be. JJ Johnson and Landon Maddix, two men who are in many ways lightyears apart in their approach to this business and yet share one goal. To be Champion. And unlike our last Champion, there's no suggestion of any alterior motives..."

 

"We love you Wes, godspeed buddy." interrupts King, earning him a sideways glare from The Franchise.

 

"...tonight, it's all about the SWF World Heavyweight Title. Tonight we will crown our 46th World Champion. JJ Johnson aims to become the 30th man to hold the biggest belt in this business, where-as Landon Maddix has his sights set on a second World Heavyweight Title reign. For only the fifth time in SWF history, we're moments away from a Canadian Death Match and argueably, this one has more at stake than any other that's gone before it."

 

"Every eye in the federation, every eye in that locker room is fixed on this match right now." King agrees. "So you'd better not screw up tonight newbie."

 

Groaning to himself, Mak is forced to swivel his chair around to face King. If he could avoid it, with his still present and aching injuries, he would. But he's certainly not going to be out-spoken by King, especially not on his first official night on the job.

 

"If we can stick to talking about this match, rather than putting ourselves over, please? Not that I couldn't do that too, but it's in my job description to call the action."

 

"And it's in mine to make the play by play guy's life hell." smiles King smugly as he pulls a conveniently placed photocopy of his contract out from under the announce desk and thrust it in Mak's face. "See. I had it written in specially."

 

"Wow, is that really all you make a year?"

 

Mak scoffs. Lost for words, King snatches back the contract and reads it, brow furrowing as he goes over the finer points, while Mak goes back to bid'ne...uhm, business.

 

"We're waiting on both competitors to make their grand entrances and I'm just hearing through my earpiece...that both men are on their way. Two out of service Army choppers are going to bring the two challengers to the arena, in keeping with the theme of tonight's show. No expences spared tonight...except on my partner's contract, of course."

 

"Grrr."

 

"Zing." sneers Mak. "So then King, while we're waiting on the choppers, let's get some of your 'expert analysis'. What's the strategy going to be tonight for both JJ Johnson and Landon Maddix, coming into this most unique of matches."

 

"Well obviously, we're looking for cumulative scores of 10 here tonight, so the strategy is somewhat similiar to an Ironman Match. The chances of scoring one big 10 count are very slim, so you're looking at a probable three falls to win, two at a push. Stamina and patience have to be important issues coming into the match. As far as strategy in a Canadian Death Match, there's a lot of ways to go. If I'm JJ Johnson, I know that I have the power advantage and a lot of big moves in my arsenal. So you can look for some of those big moves early and take a few risks. But tonight, submissions count for a fall of 3, so if Johnson is patient he could easily score four submissions, because he's got a clear advantage on the mat. Now, if I'm Landon, first of all I'd need someone to pull the gun from my mouth before I'm flown in..."

 

"..."

 

"Once in the ring though, Landon needs to be patient. Johnson is adeptly trained in a lot of styles and his Ultimate Fight background means he's got a high threshold for pain, so putting energy into big moves isn't wise. You've no guarantee that after wearing yourself out suplexing the guy onto his head you'll get a fall. And I can't see him getting big scoring pins. So, Landon needs to do what he's good at and be sneaky. He needs to sneak quick falls, roll-ups, flash pins, those sort of things."

 

"Thank you King, that was...almost impartial."

 

 

Suddenly, over the murmuring of the crowd, a distant whirring can be heard. The whirring of a helicopter propeller. Heads turn to the sky curiously and pretty soon, the majority of the arena are looking up and trying to figure out why the sound is getting louder. Closer. The reason is soon clear as the chopper swoops overhead and heads towards the far side of the arena, away from the fans and towards a specially erected helipad near the entrance ramp. Necks crane, eyes widen. There's no 500 pound Samoans offering Bodyslam Challenges, so nobody is quite sure what's going on...

 

 

 

 

...until, after the co-pilot drops to the safe ground and helps an extravagently dressed Megan Skye to make a ladylike exit from the copter.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Once Megan is clear of the rotating propeller, she gives a signal towards the back.

 

 

"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"

 

...WAAAAAHHHHH...

 

*DUM DUM*

 

And on that signal, "Megalomaniac" is cued. Megan sneers out into the crowd who boo the woman they once looked forward to seeing, some time ago, not giving her a warm welcome in her first managerial job in many months. Back at the helipad meanwhile, after a noticeably delay, Landon Maddix's head emerges through the door of the copter. Looking a little shaky, a hand reaches out to the co-pilot and Landon is helped back down to Earth, barely keeping his balance as he takes his first step.

 

"I think Landon could have done without all this pomp and circumstance." notes Mak.

 

"What a wuss."

 

Landon looks a little queasy, not a good look for a number one contender entering an SWF World Heavyweight Title match. But being on solid ground seems to suit him better than mid-air as he composes himself and begins to walk on to the ring. Megan follows on trying to rally the crowd behind him, but times have changed since their last association and that fails miserably. Landon doesn't care about all that though, possibly because he's trying not to vomit, possibly because he's focused on becoming 2-time World Champion. Climbing the ring steps, Landon looks out into the Jacksonville crowd as he strides across the apron, making way for Megan to make her own climb. Sitting down on the middle rope, the signs of her earlier match are beginning to show on Megan's face, a developing bruise noticeable on her cheek as she holds the ropes for Landon, who bounds through and spins around, around, around into the centre of the ring.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Landon Maddix, relishing this opportunity. His first Pay Per View main event in over a year, since his infamous match with Toxxic and From The Fire 2005. And ironically, it's only in these past few weeks that Landon has actually gotten over that night and that defeat."

 

"And thank God for that." sighs King, unsympathetically. "He got dropped on his head 14 months ago and he's only just stopped crying about it."

 

Hopping around from foot to foot, the nausea is gone now and the moment has taken Maddix over. It has been over a year and Landon is ready to pick up his career where he left off those 14 months ago, running the ropes and getting himself psyched up.

 

 

While this has been going on meanwhile, another chopper has neared. This one is greeter a little more warmly, although not by much, as it finds it's way onto a second helipad amongst the burnt out wreckage around the themed entrance way. And unlike his opponent, JJ Johnson needs no escort, hopping out of the helicopter and striding away like some sort of action hero. Only, a Canadian one. In the background, Mastadon's "Blood And Thunder" thunders through the P.A System, as Johnson stomps down the aisleway, passing through the charred village around him with little more than a momentary glance.

 

"I think that someone is trying to kill me

Infecting my blood and destroying my mind

No man of the flesh could ever stop me

Your fight for this fish is a fight to the death"

 

Johnson breathes deeply as he makes his way to the steps. Jogging up those with little effort, the Mixed Martial Arts expert climbs himself up on the second turnbuckle, eyes fixed on no particular place in the crowd as he strikes his instantly recognisable crucifix pose.

 

"What remorseless emperor commands me

I no longer govern my soul"

 

Leaping from the ropes to the ring, Johnson lounges right back into the corner and begins to unzip his track jacket and unstrap his World Tag Team Title belt, as all the while his eyes remains locked on his opponent. No stranger to that look, Landon quickly occupies himself in conversation with Megan in an attempt to deflect any attention on him.

 

"I am completely immersed in darkness

As I turn my body away from the sun"

 

Finally "Blood And Thunder" fades and the Main Event Buzz™ suddenly fills the air. Funyon steps into centre stage as referee Sexton Hardcastle, with SWF World Title in his possession, makes sure that both men stick to their respective corners.

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...THIS is your Main Event of SWF Battleground, a Canadian Death Match for the vacant SWF World Heavyweight Championship!!"

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"The rules for this match are as follows. To win this match, a competitor must score a cumulative score of 10 counts, via falls of 3 counts or more. A submission or a tapout with count towards a combatant's score as a 3 count fall. In this match, there will be NO count-outs and NO disqualifications! When the bell sounds, the referee in charge will be Sexton Hardcastle."

 

A slight smile creeps over JJ Johnson's face upon hearing the last of the rules, which understandably worries Landon.

 

"And now, introducing first, challenger number one. Accompanied to the ring this evening by his 'Perfect 10', the lovely MEGAN SKYE!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Wearing the black, with red trim. He hails from Madrid in Spain, by way of Huron, South Dakota. Standing 5 foot 10 and weighing in tonight at two hundred, twenty four and one quarter pounds. Tonight he aims to re-assert himself as one of the most decorated athletes in SWF history by capturing the SWF World's Championship for a second time. He is "THE NEXT GENERATION"... LLLAAAAAAANNDDOOOOOONN... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXX!!!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

The crowd let Landon have it and he turns his head towards them with a look of offence, perhaps expecting respectful applause or some of those nifty streamers they have in Japan, rather than the jeering he's recieving. Megan motions for them all to 'pipe down', but that does no good at all. Still JJ looks stoic.

 

"And, his opponent...challenger number two. Wearing red with white trim and standing 6 feet, 1 inch. He weighs in at two hundred and twenty three pounds, flat. Hailing from Windsor, Ontario Canada. One half of the SWF WORLD Tag Team Champions! He looks tonight to capture the biggest prize in the SWF for the first time, by defeating the man he callied 'ally' only months previous. Ladies and gentlemen, he is J! J! JJJJJJJJJJOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHNN - SSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!!"

 

"YYEE - BOOO - EEE - OOO - EEAAAHHH - OOOOOO!"

 

A slightly more mixed reaction sounds out for Johnson, but he certainly doesn't acknowledge it.

 

"Boy." groans King. "Don't understate it wouldya Funyon?"

 

Kneeling down in his corner, Landon goes into last minute conference with his manager, trying to avoid eye contact with the focused Canadian across the ring. Eyes locked forward, there's no flicker of emotion in JJ Johnson's eyes as he routinely goes through some stretches to loosen up the muscles, which have tightened slightly during the long entrance sequence. He's ready. Landon is too, although he's still having to shake off a few jitters. It's been a while, remember. Both men now look in unison to referee Hardcastle, as he raises the vacant World Title high overhead displaying the prize both men are fighting for. Hardcastle then shows the belt to both men in turn, Landon patting the belt while JJ simply nods. Out goes the belt and the buzz returns.

 

 

*DINGDINGDING*

 

--------------------------------

LANDON MADDIX

0

 

JJ JOHNSON

0

-------------------------------

 

A cheer goes up for the bell rather than either competitor. Up flashes the scoreboard in the right corner of the big screen for the audience's regard, as we are officially underway in the main event. Johnson leaves his corner and walks to the centre of the ring, unconcerned by the fact that Landon has walked right past and gone over to the other side, leaning out to the crowd.

 

"U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A!" is the cry from Landon, trying to get a chant going.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" is the reply.

 

"When you can't even get cheap heat for being an American, in America, against a Canadian, you know these people really don't like you too much." points out Mak.

 

A little pertubed, Landon shuffles back around and limbers himself up. Johnson remains in the centre and waits as Maddix eventually comes to face him. Former stable-mates. Former training buddies. A lot of water has gone under the JJ/Landon bridge and as such, Landon looks to show there's no hard feelings as he dramatically and not entirely genuinely extends a hand. For a few seconds, JJ doesn't move before his eyes drift down to the offered handshake. Weighing it up, Johnson slowly looks back up to Maddix, who tells him to "shake it".

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

"YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

But instead, Johnson shakes him, with a firm elbow strike!

 

"And with that one elbow, JJ Johnson just spoke a thousand words." smiles King. "He might like Landon, he may even have a modicum of respect for the guy, but he hasn't come here to play mind games. He wants to be the World Heavyweight Champion."

 

"You think that was mind games?"

 

"Certainly. The only person Landon Maddix cares about is himself, he's not going to shake anyone's hand unless he has some sort of agenda."

 

Maddix goes stumbling back a few steps and instantly clutches at his jaw, Megan hopping to the apron and complaining about a cheapshot. Maddix has gotten the message and after loosening up his jaw, he cautiously offers up a greco-roman knuckle lock to his opponent. That's what JJ has been waiting for, some wrestling, and he eagerly takes up the offer. The two lock hands and slowly inch towards a lock-up with their free hands, until Landon suddenly lunges forward and snatches a side headlock. JJ looks disappointed with himself but doesn't linger in the headlock long, dropping down to his knees and swiping Landon's legs from underneath him with a double leg takedown. Caught off guard, Landon falls flat on his face and Johnson floats over top, wrapping on a front facelock to ground The Next Generation. This is just like being back in training for Landon. But being schooled in an empty arena by someone is nowhere near as embarrasing as when it's in a PPV main event, so he quickly pushes onto all fours and looks for an escape. As Landon comes up though, Johnson quickly hooks an arm and shoots the half on his former student, placing him on his back for a pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T...

 

Landon escapes, but Johnson holds onto him, this time by the arm.

 

"Johnson looking for a quick fall, perhaps thinking that elbow strike has flustered his opponent." notes Mak.

 

Rising to his feet with his arm barred up, Landon pushes at the face of Johnson for some leverage. Johnson shakes him off though, giving the arm a slight wrench which is enough to drop Landon agonisingly to a knee. Johnson repositions his grip at this point in order to torque the wrist, each torque bringing a yelp from Landon. And those yelps are like music to Johnson's ears, pulling on the wrist like his very own musical instrument. Unwilling to be played like this for much longer, escape is now on Maddix's mind as he fights off the pain long enough to push up on his toes and somersault forwards. Out of the roll through, Landon comes to his feet and turns, performing a resorte like a true luchador. All the rolling has weakened JJ's grip now and Landon is able to swat away his opponent's now twisted hand, snatching him over with a sudden armdrag and coming up to his feet with hands extended, as if to say "How about that".

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

JJ looks surprised, apparantly never experiencing that in training before. Shaking out the arm he pushes himself to his feet, unimpressed by Landon's posturing and daring him on to lock up again.

 

"See, here's the problem." King begins. "Landon's good at all that speed stuff and apparantly, now he's left JJ and Jay Hawke's sides, he's back to his flip-floppy ways. But speed isn't enough. JJ can match speed with Maddix and then some. Maddix can't match JJ wrestling and Maddix can't match JJ striking., which makes this match a no-brainer. The only other advantage he has is cheating."

 

"And JJ isn't above that either."

 

A little pensive, Landon thinks about initiating a lock-up but he backs right off, changing his mind at the very last second. Instead, Landon backs up into a corner and makes a motion. On cue, Megan clambers up to the apron with her trusty towel and, in a flashback to the long gone days of 2003, she mops away some sweat from Landon's brow.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"This was cute when Tom and Allison did it." chastises King, mourning The Superior One's retirement.

 

Megan gives Landon some last words of encouragement before Hardcastle finally forces her to the outside. And with those words fresh in his ears, Landon jockeys back into the centre of the ring and goes into JJ's collar and elbow tie-up with renewed confidence.

 

Dumb move.

 

Johnson slips behind with a hammerlock and fires his knee into the pinned arm with the upmost ease, causing Landon to fall his knees cradling his arm in discomfort. Keeping control, JJ steps in front of Landon and hooks up the right arm and applies a facelock in unison, taking Maddix over with a Half Hatch Suplex...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Kickout by Landon...

 

 

 

...but Johnson clings onto the arms and presses his opponent to the mat with a hammerlock applied. Keeping the arm close to Landon's side prevents him from finding an escape and again, it's back to school for La Cucaracha. From somewhere deep in the back of his mind though, Landon does find a counter, shifting himself slowly up into a seated position and reaching back to grab JJ by the head. A couple of bobs set up Landon up to arch himself back to his feet, popping Johnson with a back elbow!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Caught by surprise, JJ releases Maddix and growls under his breath.

 

"Hello death warrant!"

 

Not hanging around to wait for any retaliation, Landon rushes forward and shoots off the ropes with a full of head of steam and a forearm brandished. Unfortunately, JJ sees it in time to throw up the blocks! Johnson seems almost offended by Landon's abandonment of the chain wrestling challenge and not content with his schooling of his opponent, Johnson brushes the arm aside and ducks behind with a rear waistlock.

 

"Aw, boo." sulks King. "Why isn't JJ going for the kill?"

 

"It's like you said earlier King, patience. Besides, Johnson hasn't had a training session with Maddix in months, he probably missed all this."

 

"I wouldn't know, I never had a sparring partner so bad as Landon."

 

Johnson holds the waistlock and almost invites his opponent to try and develop a counter. Lost, Landon looks to the outside for some inspiration from his returning manager but before she gets a chance to offer advice, Maddix is swept off his feet and up for a waistlock takedown...which is when instinct kicks in and Maddix tucks forward, taking JJ over with a cradle...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

Untangling their bodies from each other's, both men scramble up to their feet and...

 

 

 

 

...cravaté by Landon.

 

"GROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

 

"THAT'S WRESTLING, PEOPLE!" mugs Landon, tightening up on the elementary hold to mild applause from Megan and Megan only. Everyone else is sent into a stupour of Charlie Matthews esque boredom as Maddix gives the neck another wrench.

 

"You know, I think I'd be less offended if Maddix booted JJ in the balls than I am right now." King swipes.

 

"Of course you would, you used to pull those kinda stunts all the time." protests Mak.

 

"Pot, Kettle, Mak."

 

Coming to his feet once more, Johnson searches up and down for a weakness in the hold and doesn't take long to expose it. Pulling his head away from Landon's body, JJ snakes an arm up the torso and hooks it over Landon's arm. Johnson then swipes down on the inside of the elbow, breaking the hold and putting himself back to back with the Next Generation. A quick backfist dazed the former World Champion and before he can recover Landon is swept over Johnson's shoulder with a snapmare, becoming a sitting duck...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

...for a Dragon Kick to the spine!

 

"There we go!" enthuses King. "JJ stepping up the intensity a little."

 

"I guess Johnson doesn't like cravatés."

 

"Who does? Certainly not me. Maybe the French seeing as they created the word, but it's not like their opinion counts for anything now is it?"

 

"And we want to thank all our great French fans for staying up late and tuning in tonight!"

 

As his opponent writhes on the canvas with a hand clenched to his stinging spine, Johnson stalks around and weighs up his next move. That move turns out to be a handful of hair, assisting Landon to his feet a sliding behind him with a rear waistlock. The crowd seem a little confused, disappointed even, in Johnson's methodical pace but they soon perk up as Johnson tucks his head underneath Landon's arm and sets for a Saito Suplex. Maddix manages to fend Johnson off with some desperate right jabs to the top of the head, but JJ retaliates with a couple of fists jammed into the midsection. Re-applying the waistlock, Johnson then pops the hips, throwing Landon over with a traditional back suplex...

 

 

 

...but Maddix shifts his weight on the way up and catches Johnson by surprise, sliding down the back and snaring him over with a sloppy schoolboy rollup...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T..

 

JJ has no troubles escaping the hasty pin, but as he comes back to his feet, Landon is waiting with a much more expertly executed schoolboy...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

JJ kicks out again, managing to beat Maddix to his feet and catch him with a quick boot to the gut to halt his suddenly building momentum. As Landon doubles over, JJ regains any lost confidence he may have had as he cups him under the chin and exposes the chest, rocking him with a firm European uppercut. The force sends Landon reeling, but Johnson reels him right back in by the shorts for a second European uppercut. The European is left winded by his home continent's namesake strikes and does what any good bad guy would do...he holds up a hand and begs off, looking for a reprieve. JJ has only just put his foot on the gas though and he's unwilling to step down a gear just yet, so as Landon waddles back on his knees in retreat, Johnson follows him in...

 

 

 

 

...but The Next Generation shocks him with a double leg, stacking JJ on his shoulders...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

...and, predictably, Landon throws his feet up onto the ropes, Megan frantically scuttling over and wrapping her trusty towel around Landon's foot and the rope just for good measure...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

And a kickout, just a second too late for Johnson!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Maddix drops his feet from the ropes before Hardcastle can suspect any wrong doing, not wanting to risk anything ropebreak wise despite there being No Disqualifications in the match, rolling out of the ring as Johnson sits back up and turns to the referee in disbelief.

 

*DING!*

 

"The winner of the fall, earning a count of 3... LANDON MADDIX!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

 

--------------------------------

LANDON MADDIX

3

 

JJ JOHNSON

0

-------------------------------

 

 

"GAH! That's bullshit." snaps King, pulling no punches.

 

"I thought you said you'd prefer it if he cheated?"

 

"Yeah well, I lied."

 

"Regardless of that, Landon picks up the first fall of the match, by fair means or foul. An early lead, albeit a minor one. And it's as we called earlier, Landon seems to be on a gameplan where he looks for quick, surprise falls."

 

"Quick, surprise, CHEAP falls." King EFAs.

 

Looking typically pleased with himself Landon taps a finger to his temple, letting everyone in Jacksonville, Florida and around the world know just how smart he is. Unfortunately, in showing everyone he's smart, Landon does something distinctly UNsmart, turning his back on his opponent. Fuming, Johnson rolls from the ring and stalks up behind Maddix, fists clenched. The crowd roar in anticipation and back come Landon's smarts, as he recognizes the fans aren't roaring for him. Maddix braces himself for the worst as he stops, turns around... and gets *CRACK!*ed with an elbow strike by Johnson!! Falling off to the side, Maddix slumps against the apron and again tries the mercy treatment. But JJ has learnt his lesson this time and swipes Landon's begging hands away, slamming a second elbow strike into his jaw before taking him behind the head and PITCHING him face-first into the announce table!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"If there's one consolation over that first fall, it's that it's lit a fire under JJ Johnson's ass." smirks King as he stands up and retreats to safety, with Landon sprawled over his notes. "For whatever reason, he wanted to start out wrestling tonight, but that's been thrown right out of the window now!"

 

Johnson grabs Maddix by the hair and drags him off the table, turning him back to the ring and giving him a faceful of ring apron this time! Despair has overtaken celebration for Megan now and she watches through her hands, as Johnson fires in another elbow strike! And another! A third and Landon is out on his feet, slumping to a seated position and promptly disappearing through the ring apron as he collapses backwards. Johnson gives Landon no time to collect his bearings and grab any weapons though, dragging him back out by the leg.

 

"KICK HIS ASS J J, KICK HIS ASS!"

*CLAP CLAP!*

"KICK HIS ASS J J, KICK HIS ASS!"

*CLAP CLAP!*

 

"Can you believe the vocal majority of these people are actually behind JJ Johnson?" Mak asks in surprise.

 

"When he's facing someone like Landon, sure."

 

Despite the swell of support, JJ remains stoic. Of course, he's going to give the fans what they want, but only because he wants it just as much. Pulling Landon up by the hair, Johnson carelessly throws his opponent back into the ring and follows straight in after, dragging the still dazed Landon into the centre of the ring. Still hanging onto the hair, Johnson lines Landon up...forearm, driven into the side of the head, Benoit style. Maddix drops to one knee and JJ drives a bionic elbow across the top of the head before rushing the ropes. As he recieves a brief reprieve, Landon decides being a stationary target is no good and pushes himself back to his feet, which proves a mistake when JJ Johnson comes shooting forward with a Shotgun Lariat which whiplashes Maddix back down to the canvas! The crowd come unglued for the sound and impact of the move, fully expecting the defecit to be clawed back as Johnson cradles a leg...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

But Landon kicks out, to the surprise of some and the disappointment of all. Well, except Megan, who slaps the apron and encourages Landon to shake the Lariat off. Easier said than done, especially as JJ Johnson sits him straight back up and lands a FIRM, straight kick to the sternum!

 

"Now, this is more like it!" beams Suicide King, as the Ultimate Fight expert comes off the ropes with an un-UFC like kneedrop, again directed square in the centre of the chest! Maddix sits up and breathlessly groans in pain, only for JJ to shove him back down and attempt the pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

"And now it's JJ Johnson who's attempting quick falls." notes Mak. "The tide and the tone of this match have changed simply on the back of that one pinfall by Landon."

 

"Well let's not forget, JJ's been beaten in a World Title, PPV main event before. The memory of that last loss hasn't disappeared yet, especially when he's wrestling an El Luchadore Magnifico rip-off. All that pin did was just dredge up some bad memories. Johnson knows what it's like to miss out on the World Title and he knows in a normal match, he would have done so again. Now, he's even more determined not to lose."

 

Johnson remains in total control as he again drags Maddix off the mat and to his feet, lining him up and landing another of his beloved elbow strikes. Legs wobbling like jelly, Landon is in danger of falling of his feet for a moment. But he manages to recollect himself and regains his composure, before lunging at JJ. One...

 

...two...

 

...three...

 

...four consecutive forearms find the mark before Landon does a fancy little pirouette and comes 'roaring' with a final forearm...

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

...and rolls DIRECTLY into JJ Johnson's elbow!

 

"Yeouch." remarks Mak, as Landon collapses backwards comically. The only person who doesn't seem to be amused by this is, curiously, his opponent, who emotionlessly looks down upon him while rubbing at his jaw.

 

 

If he wasn't pissed off before, he sure is now.

 

 

Reaching down, Johnson claims another hold on Landon's blonde hair and brings him back up. Usually there'd be a warning from Hardcastle. But with No DQs, all the referee can do is kindly ask JJ to obey the rules, purely out of the goodness of his heart. Johnson pays that no heed however, keeping hold of the locks as he cocks and loads the elbow.

 

"Oh my God...he's not going to do what he did to Janus, is he?" gasps Mak, as a cheer goes up around him. And beside him.

 

"I sure HOPE so! Hell, why stop at 36!?!"

 

"King, if 36 elbows put the monster Janus down, what would they do to Landon?"

 

"Not sure, but it's gonna be fun to find out!"

 

Seeing any hopes of managing a World Champion again, possibly ever, set to evaporate before her eyes Megan Skye leaps to the apron and gains Johnson's attention, pleading with the Canadian not to do what he's thinking of doing. Johnson doesn't concern himself with her though, pulling back on the hair and exposing the chin of Maddix before letting him go and throwing an elbow, both in one swift motion...

 

 

 

...but Landon ducks the elbow and hoists Johnson onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry! Johnson squirms for a way out, but suddenly escaping down Landon's back becomes much tougher as he spins around...

 

 

...and around...

 

 

 

 

...and around...

 

 

"An AIRPLANE SPIN!?!" despairs King vocally. "My God he's a walking joke."

 

 

"SIX!"

 

 

"SEVEN!"

 

 

"EIGHT!"

 

 

"NINE!"

 

 

 

"TEN!" rotations later and Landon finally stops. All that spinning has brought back his earlier nausea flooding back, stumbling across the ring from the effects of his own move briefly. Behind him meanwhile, Johnson has fallen to the mat, but unfortunately for The Next Generation, he's getting right back up and displaying his FIGHTING SPIRIT~! By the time Maddix turns back around, JJ is back up and the shock of seeing his opponent looking so unaffected by the spinfest leaves him open for a thrust kick to the gut. Landon doubles over and Johnson pulls him into a front facelock, hoisting him high overhead...and LEAVING him high overhead.

 

"Hanging Vertical Suplex!" marvels Mak. "I don't know how JJ absorbed that Airplane Spin and I sure as hell don't know how he's able to keep Maddix above his head, all I know is it's darned impressive!"

 

"FOUR!"

 

"FIVE!"

 

"SIX!"

 

"SEVEN!"

 

"EIGHT!"

 

"NINE!"

 

"TEN!" seconds pass, before Johnson drops Maddix down with the delayed vertical! Megan hangs her head, but does so a few seconds too soon, as Landon pushes himself immediately back up...

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."

 

 

...WITH HIS OWN DISPLAY OF FIGHTING SPIRI...

 

 

"AAAAAA..uuuu...ugggggghhhhhhh!"

 

 

...oh, nope, down goes Landon.

 

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Now Megan is perfectly justified in hanging her head as her newly reunited man flops around like a fish out of water trying to redeem some of his lost face and regain his footing. He manages to do so, but is still unsteady on his feet, allowing JJ to capitalise. An elbow to the spine sets Maddix up, Johnson pulling him into a standing headscissors and hoisting him skywards. If Landon were more aware of his surroundings, he might fight. He might even counter.

 

 

But he's not, meaning it's Powerbomb city for him! Johnson bends deep and drives Maddix into the canvas, sliding forwards with a quick pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!

 

*DING!*

 

"The winner of the fall, earning a count of 3... JJ JOHNSON!"

 

"YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

--------------------------------

LANDON MADDIX

3

 

JJ JOHNSON

3

-------------------------------

 

"And the scores are level again, but crucially, both men are that little closer to the cumulative ten count needed to win." enthuses The Franchise. "A seven count would win it for either man right now."

 

"Nobody's ever scored more than a six count in a Canadian Death Match before though. And the six was only after Toxxic nearly killed Scott Pretzler with a Super Caffeine Bomb."

 

"But, it's not impossible though."

 

"Oh no, don't get me wrong, I could see Johnson having a deadly enough suplex variant in his arsenal to score a 7 count. But it's very unlikely."

 

JJ cares not for unlikely though as he feels the momentum behind him and looks to take full advantage of it's presence, not resting on his laurels as his opponent did earlier. Still looking a little woozy, Landon begins to come back to his feet. So the Canadian retreats into a corner and waits patiently, drawing the Jacksonville natives into his game of intrigue. Reaching a standing position, Landon stops and tries to stop the arena from spinning before turning around in search of his opponent. And he doesn't have to search long, as Johnson sprints out and connects with a second Shotgun Lariat of the match!! Maddix drops the SWF proverbial sack of wet mice and JJ makes an immediate cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO, KICKOUT!

 

"Credit where credit is due, Landon's a gutsy kid." praises Mak. "He won't go down without a fight."

 

"But, that doesn't mean he won't go down. Just means he's stubborn." King argues, thinking it over. "A stubborn punk."

 

Undettered, Johnson backs away once more and seems to be setting up a third of his Shotguns. However, as La Cucaracha rises, JJ apparantly has a change of heart and meets him in the centre of the ring. An elbow finds the mark...and a second elbow, putting Maddix back on the proverbial dream street and in a suitable position for a third attempt, Johnson rushes the ropes in front of the former World Champion and throwing an amplified third Shotgun Lariat...

 

 

 

 

...DUCKED! Johnson puts on the brakes and skids to a halt, looking to rectify his mistake as he wheels back towards Landon.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Now, it's Landon's turn to strike with a favoured attack, a knifedge chop!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

A second finds the mark and Johnson is stinging but not backing down, so Maddix is forced to fire off a third.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

It connects, but still JJ Johnson is standing, despite a slight slump and a heavier breath. Panicking slightly, Maddix goes to the gut with a boot and grabs JJ by the arm, sending him into a corner with an irish whip. Johnson hits spine first and nestles against the buckles. Meanwhile, on encouragement from Megan, Landon prepares the forearm and gains a run-up before rushing across the ring and looking to drive it into JJ's face. Unfortunately, JJ throws up a foot, which connects before Landon can! Back stumbles Landon, but he is nothing if not persistant and comes again. Another boot up halts his progress though and Johnson then steps out of the corner, swiping out with a Roundhouse Kick that strikes Maddix in the shoulder and sends him sprawling through the ropes and to the floor! Maddix sees this as a chance to take a walk, but to the surprise of nobody, JJ Johnson is right on his tail once more.

 

"Things are stepping up again." Mak points out with a smile. "Any fond memories from the Cucaracha Internacional days are a distant memory right now, for both men."

 

"I doubt JJ had any fond memories of Landon whatsoever."

 

"You're a bad person King, you know that?"

 

Maddix belatedly notices JJ Johnson tracking him around ringside and wisely starts to pick up some speed and try to get away. Johnson stomps around with him, Landon jinking past the ring steps and turning back to JJ for another attempt at asking for mercy. By now he knows he won't get it. But, hey, worth a try. Johnson keeps on coming and Maddix rounds another corner, Johnson a few steps behind him...before suddenly, a hand grabs him around the arm.

 

 

And Megan Skye is suddenly in trouble.

 

"YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Uh-oh...she'd better run and fast."

 

Terrified, Megan soon regrets her interjection as Johnson turns around to him and just glares a hole through the SWF's number one valet, stalking towards her. Now it's Megan's turn to beg for mercy and if Landon didn't get it, chances are she wouldn't either.

 

 

Wouldn't being wouldn't, because before Johnson can get to her, Landon Maddix sprints back down past the announce table to rescue his damsel in distress. Grabbing the unsuspecting Canadian by the back of the head, Maddix keeps on running and motions for the fans to get the hell out of the way. Wisely, they do, as Landon uses his free hand to guide himself over the barricade and drop JJ Johnson THROAT-FIRST ACROSS THE STEEL!!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Ach!" chokes Mak, feeling JJ's pain. "A Macho Necksnap on the steel! In a normal match, that might have earnt him a disqualification, but of course this being a Canadian Death Match, that was perfectly legal. And anyone who knows anything about JJ Johnson will be well aware of his previous throat injuries!"

 

"Oh yeah, that was no accident. Maddix knew exactly what he was doing."

 

Ending up with a front row seat, Landon lounges back and takes the chance for a proper breather. Megan leans over the barricade with a knowing smile and congratulates Landon on a plan well executed, before helping him ease back to his feet. On the other side of the barrier, JJ Johnson lays on the thinly padded floor clutching his throat, coughing and wheezing as a concerned Sexton Hardcastle exits the ring to check on him.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Maddix's natural confidence has returned, grinning from ear to ear as he levers himself back over the barricade and walks towards his fallen opponent. A kick to the head seems to be more insulting than anything, before Landon pulls Johnson up and dumps him into the ring. Megan obliges him with a quick towelling down, before The Next Generation slides in and looks to become The Next World Champion with a cover...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP!

 

Straight away, Landon moves off of the lateral press and applies a blatant choke, one which referee Hardcastle is powerless to do anything about.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Say what you will about Landon, but he's picked out the weakness, the chink in JJ Johnson's armour if you will. And although attacking someone's throat isn't the most honourable of tactics, it's a tactic nonetheless."

 

"Without Megan, he's nothing." King insists cruelly.

 

"They make a good team." agrees Mak.

 

"That wasn't what I meant."

 

Finally Landon releases the choke and protests his innocence to referee Hardcastle, despite the fact he doesn't need to. But it soon becomes apparant that Landon is only protesting his innocence because Megan Skye has reached into the ring and wrapped her trusty towel around the Canadian's injured throat!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"C'mon Hardcastle, do your damn job!" cries King, getting a little too into proceedings.

 

"No disqualifications, King."

 

"That doesn't mean he can't throw Skye out of here! Let's see how much of a World Champion Landon is without her! Better yet, let's reply the past 6 or 7 months in the SWF and prove that he'd be nowhere near a World Champion without her!"

 

Megan retreats, as Landon finally fress up the referee and makes the cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Early kickout by Johnson, who angrily sits straight back up, but finds himself trapped in a simple rear chinlock by Maddix. Normally this would be a dull, unimaginative tactic. But the chinlock proves to just be a brief way of gaining control, as Maddix comes to his feet with Johnson and pushes him back against the ropes and re-asserts another chokehold!

 

"HA! SPEAK TO ME JJ, SPEAK TO ME!" taunts Landon, an unwise thing to do as it spurs JJ into swatting away Maddix's arm...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and thrusting a STIFF elbow strike into Landon's face!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Back stumbles Maddix, giving JJ an opportunity to try and regain his breath somewhat. It proves only a brief opportunity though, as Maddix shakes the grogginess clear and comes at Johnson again.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

A chop further hampers Triple J's breathing.

 

 

*THWACK!*

 

And Maddix follows with a second knifedge, this one aimed callously at JJ's adam's apple!! Eyes bulging, JJ drops instantly and gasps for breath, allowing Maddix to roll him over and make a lateral press, complete with forearm pressed across the throat!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR...

 

NO, KICKOUT!

 

Maddix quickly pushes back up, catching Johnson as he sits back up and slams a forearm into the traps. But JJ is more concerned with his throat than any other injuries now and still he's struggling for breath, sat up but slumped. Stepping in front of his opponent, Landon looks to Megan and seems to be seeking some input. Whether that input comes or not isn't clear, but Landon suddenly takes inspiration from somewhere as he sits himself in front of JJ and wraps on a front guillotine choke!

 

"BASTAR..."

 

"Wet Cement, a patented move of a former Canadian Death Match winner in Tom Flesher!" Mak hurriedly calls with a good cover.

 

"If there's any consolation for Johnson, it's that he's felt this pain before." King notes. "He's had a serious throat injury, he knows how to deal with it."

 

"I doubt that's any consolation right now, King."

 

"I know, I'm just trying to find some positives to cling to here while Landon's on the offence. Give me that at least."

 

In steps referee Hardcastle and with Johnson's breathing hampered, Maddix is either looking for 3 points for a submission or maybe even to choke the Canadian out and score a high pinfall. Either way, Maddix is happy with proceedings, grinning away and nodding his head and he pulls back on the restricting hold. Johnson flails with each clamping and tightening of the hold but he knows he has to find a way out soon, so starts to fight. Landon has the hold applied quite well though, restricting Johnson's arms enough to prevent him striking out. So, reaching down with his free arm, Johnson sets about trying to unlock the body scissors. Despite the air being sapped from him, Johnson is able to slip his arm in between his body and Landon's right thigh, slowly prising apart the scissors and twisting himself out of the now free side. Landon maintains the front facelock, but Johnson has at least managed to find a way to start climbing to his feet.

 

"That would have never happened to Tom." King states confidently, as Johnson now fires a shot around and into the kidneys. And a second. Maddix's grip is clearly being weakened, as Johnson strikes a third time and then arches back, taking Landon over with a bridged Northern Lights Suplex...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

The facelock has been abandoned completely now by Landon as he reaches his feet ahead of Johnson, striking with a forearm to the side of the head to regain a little control. Another forearm follows before the Spanish American Sensation reaches out and grabs another cravaté!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Uuuggh!" groans King. "These matches are long enough, without using endless restholds."

 

"This is a smart move King, whether you like it or not. The angle of the neck and positioning of the hands means that in this hold, Johnson's throat is going to be restricted, while Landon gets a free rest."

 

Landon clings onto the cravaté with Megan cheering on, but JJ is direct with his counter this time. Firing off two, three and finally a fourth elbow to the gut, Johnson breaks the cravaté and pauses for breath. That pause allows Landon to shake off the elbows. But if he thinks JJ will still be an easy target, he's dead wrong, as Johnson lands a precision thrust kick when The Next Generation moves in again catching him hard in the chest! Down goes Landon, but Johnson also drops to his knees and is unable to capitalise.

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"JJ needs to hit something big." insists King, nervously. "His throat is going to hamper him and the longer this match goes, the more the advantage swings to Landon. JJ needs to take a risk and try to end it early as possible."

 

As Johnson presses back to his feet, La Cucaracha has clearly had enough again as he scuttles across the ring on his belly and tries to find the safety of the arena floor. Megan provides a helping hand...literally, reaching her towel into the ring for Landon to grab and use as a pulley. However, JJ Johnson has other ideas, grabbing Maddix by the ankle and dragging him back towards the centre of the ring. Megan is no match strength-wise for Johnson so allows Landon to be dragged back into the lion's den. She doesn't leave him weaponless however and despite the fans howls of warning, Johnson is unsuspecting as he pulls Maddix up...

 

 

 

 

...and suddenly gets a towel wrapped around his throat!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Again, No DQs." Mak feels the need to remind us, as well as an outraged Suicide King.

 

Johnson tries to fight Landon off but the towel cuts off his circulation to the point where Landon is soon able to drop his opponent to his knees. The flailing Johnson reaches out in vain for the ropes. Meanwhile, referee Hardcastle moves in close to check for a submission over the noisy boos of the crowd. Landon doesn't search for a submission though as he instead turns himself back to back with the Canadian, keeping the towel tight around the throat as he falls back with a Neckbreaker!

 

"Towel assisted neckbreaker and that could be enough!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH...

 

KICKOUT!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Landon looks a little surprised by this kickout and talks it over briefly with Hardcastle before retrieving the towel, tossing it back out to Megan incase he needs it later.

 

"If he wins this match, Landon's gonna have to get a seperate belt made for Megan." King says in disgust.

 

While he's waiting for his opponent to recover, Landon enters another team conference with Megan who is clearly giving some vested pointers. Landon takes them in and meets JJ as he gets back up,

able to take his time in attacking the weakened Canadian...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...which he does, with a knifedge chop!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Another chop connects and Johnson, who would usually be able to fight back from these shots, is reeling due to his hampered breathing. The extra seconds Landon has earned are taken as is typical by a glance to the crowd and a cocky pose of dominance.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Under encouragement from Megan, Maddix goes back on the offence and drills Johnson with a forearm before turning himself behind his opponent. Landing a quick punch to the kidneys, The Next Generation then grabs Johnson by his MMA style shorts and brings him into position before shoving him forwards. Johnson goes careering forwards and collides with the ring ropes, the top rope hitting him directly in the throat as Maddix had intended. Back stumbles JJ and Maddix is waiting, burying a forearm into the kidneys which drops the already struggling Johnson down to all fours.

 

"GOODNIGHT JACKSONVILLE!" shouts Landon confidently, perhaps forgetting a submission will only take him up to 6 points, as he steps over JJ and looks to apply the Land Of No...

 

 

 

 

...NO! Johnson reaches up and counters with a snapmare before Landon can get the hold locked in! Coming to his feet, Landon looks a little surprised but he doesn't dwell on it and dusts himself off before hitting the ropes in front of him. Gaining top speed, Landon bounces back and looks to charge right through JJ...

 

 

 

 

...BUT JJ COMES ROARING, barelling through Maddix with a Rolling Elbow that turns him HEAD OVER HEELS and causes Landon to get flipped and take a face-first landing on the unforgiving canvas!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Talk about a tide-changer!!" gasps Francis, King coming out of his seat beside him. "Landon got turned inside out!"

 

"That's what happens when you try and out-strike an Ultimate Fighter, you end up with your face destroyed! It's a good job Florida's famous for orange juice and not, you know, solids."

 

Both men are down and it's gutcheck time. It's not 'try and beat the ten count' time of course, which means the two can take their sweet time over dragging themselves back up and preparing to battle again. Megan wills her man up and the crowd join in, although they're much less discriminate and they just want both guys to get back up and tear into each other again.

 

"Call it hope, but I get the feeling JJ's fixing to tear Landon apart now."

 

"Well Landon found a weakness and he exploited it, but he hasn't made it count where it counts, on the scoreboard." notes Mak. "And how costly could that prove at the end of this night?"

 

"In a match like this, very. Wrestlers are conditioned to kick out before a three, it's second nature, so getting four, five and even six counts is an even harder task. And when you get a good opportunity to do so, you have to grasp it, because you might not get another."

 

First to his feet, Landon tries to steady himself but only ends up stumbling backwards and into the ropes. That buys Johnson a few seconds to reach his feet too and both men are back up. Lunging out of the ropes, Landon knows he has to strike quickly and lands a forearm upside the head that wobbles Johnson slightly. Too slightly though, as he shakes it off and strikes out with another elbow! Landon staggers, still dazed from the previous, almighty elbow. But he manages to gain his bearings long enough to strike out again, a second forearm slamming into JJ's jaw! Johnson is now the one to stumble but he quickly shakes it off again, rocking The Next Generation with an elbow and follows up in a flash with a kick to the hamstring! And another! Already on a weakened base, Maddix drops down to one knee from the kicks and ends up taking JJ's third thrust across the left arm!

 

"Oh! What a stroke of luck that could be!" cries Mak.

 

"Luck!?! JJ Johnson doesn't work on luck, idiot, that was clearly aimed at the arm."

 

"Well whether it was or not, that could open up a Jujigatame." The Franchise predicts, before realising that JJ has other ideas. Rather than take advantage of the arm and go for the submission, Johnson realises he'd be better served attempting for more than a 3 count and pulls Landon back to his feet, gutwrenching and lifting Maddix off the mat. As Landon goes up, JJ then twists La Cucaracha around and takes him up for a Tombstone...

 

 

 

 

 

...but Landon manages to shift his weight and after noteable effort, hoists Johnson up over his shoulder for his own Tombstone attempt!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...!"

 

"He's got him!" cries Mak.

 

"No he doesn't!" cries King.

 

"OW, MY FUCKING ARM!" cries Landon, as Johnson's 223 pounds frame lumps up across his left shoulder and causes The Next Generation to give way. Landing on his feet behind Landon, JJ keeps hold of the waist and now hoists again, shifting the momentum once more and setting for the Tombstone once more!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA...!"

 

Before Johnson can re-adjust Landon however, the stubborn Spaniard starts to fight, throwing his leg in a frenzy. The left knee slams down on Johnson, connecting directly in the back of the neck two, three, four times and forcing him to lose his grip on his opponent. That allows Landon to safely slide down Johnson's back and, while Johnson still tends to his neck, snap a field goal up between the Canadian's posts!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Blatant, blatant lowblow!"

 

"You know, I really shouldn't be surprised be the depths this little punk will stoop to anymore." growls King. "And yet, here we are."

 

Down to his knees drops Johnson, Maddix earning himself some admonishing from referee Hardcastle despite there being No Disqualifications. The crowd admonishes Maddix too but he simply shrugs them off with a smirk. His opponent clearly isn't smirking, stuck in between agony and rage as he begins to push back up with gritted teeth and hopes set on revenge. Seeing this, Landon wastes no more time as he backs off the ropes behind Johnson and rushes towards, then past him, catching hold of some thick black hair as he passes. With no halt in sight Maddix heads to the other side of the ring, then vaults over the top rope and takes JJ over with another Macho Necksna...

 

 

 

 

 

...NO! Johnson counters, a shove in the ass sending Maddix flying solo and landing with a horrid *SPLAT!* on the arena floor!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

A shriek from Megan is barely drowned out by the cheers of the crowd, happy to see Landon crash and burn. As he is tended to by his manager meanwhile, JJ Johnson has dropped back down to the mat, with a sore neck, damaged throat and aching testicles to worry about.

 

"See, that's where Maddix's problem lies." begins King. "There was no need to go leaping over the ropes and try a move so high-risk, especially after booting Johnson in the junk. All that work JJ and Jay Hawke did trying to re-train him, talk about a waste. He shacks up with Megan again and he's as bad as ever!"

 

"To be fair, that same move worked earlier." points out Mak.

 

"Even more reason not to try it again then!"

 

Easing back to his feet, Johnson hears the roar of the crowd behind him and seems to be surprised, at least momentarily. It's a good job he's not really concerned over crowd reactions then, as he's able to refocus on the task at hand and exit the ring in search of Landon. Still lying spread-eagled on the floor, Landon is being tended to by Megan. But flapping a towel over his face to give him more air doesn't do a lot of good before JJ arrives on the scene, sending Megan retreating off around the ring. Johnson reaches down and grabs Maddix by the hair, dragging him off the thin black padding and lounging him up across the apron.

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

Johnson then throws a hard, stiff kick into the spine.

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

And a second, straight kick.

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

Make it three! Maddix is feeling the pain now and falls to his knees, head hanging on the apron and looking in an overall sorry state. Not a whole lot better off, Johnson heaves Maddix back to a standing position by shorts and hair a

 

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

 

A desperate Landon manages to prevent that by raking across the face of his opponent though, sending him blindly stumbling away across ringside. And despite the bad back, Landon uses the sudden distance between himself and Johnson as a run-up, charging in with a forearm...

Edited April 25, 2006 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

...DUCKED! Johnson catches Maddix under the arm and grabs the shorts, checking his position before with the faintest hint of a smile he pops the hips...

 

 

 

 

*CLUNK!*

 

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

...AND WRAPS LANDON AROUND THE RINGPOST, SPINE-FIRST, WITH AN EXPLODER SUPLEX!!!!!

 

 

"Oh God!" groans Francis.

 

"That's the big move! That's the big move Johnson was looking for!" erupts King beside him, showing much less compassion than his co-commentator. "Hell, that might even be a 7 count winning move right there!"

 

"HOLY SHIT!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

 

Megan is in near-hysterics across the other side of the ring, hardly able to look as her man lies motionless in a not too comfortable looking position. Sitting up, Johnson rubs at his throat which is still giving him some problems, but now he can take some time to recover.

 

"I still remember seeing JJ do that very same move to Zyon some time ago and I still remember the damage he did." says King, with an audible air of happiness in his voice. "And now, dum dum dum, another spot monkey bites the dust!"

 

"It isn't over yet, King. Johnson still has to get Maddix back into the ring and pin him. Right now, he's not in any condition to do that apparantly."

 

"Doesn't matter. Maddix might have a broken back after that move, Mak."

 

Finally, JJ has gotten himself back in a condition to capitalise, as he sits himself back up and grabs Maddix by top and tails once more. This time, Johnson is dealing with deadweight. But he's still able to haul The Next Generation up and after pushing his limp body into the ring, Johnson re-enters, slowly logrolling Maddix away from the ropes and dropping into a cover...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOUR!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FIVE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

SI...

 

 

 

NO, A FIVE COUNT IS ALL JJ GETS, as Landon meekly rolls a shoulder!! The crowd aren't sure whether to cheer the 5 count or boo the kickout, causing a mixed reaction to go up briefly through the Alltell Stadium.

 

"Damn!" curses King. "I was sure that would have been a seven."

 

 

*DING!*

 

"The winner of the fall, earning a count of 5... JJ JOHNSON!"

 

"YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

--------------------------------

LANDON MADDIX

3

 

JJ JOHNSON

8

-------------------------------

 

"With that fall, JJ Johnson is one fall away...one fall away from winning the World Heavyweight Championship for the first time in his career!" Mak cheers. "And barring a miracle, Maddix needs at least two falls before JJ gets one."

 

"And you know what else Mak...a submission is good enough now for victory." delights King.

 

"That's right. Up until now, Johnson's been avoiding the submission game, preffering to go for pins and look for possible fours and fives. Now, it doesn't matter. He needs a three to pass the magic 10 barrier and a submission will do just that."

 

As if on cue, with Landon having rolled onto his front with whatever remaining senses he has about it, JJ stands up and ruthlessly stomps down on the left shoulder! Landon shudders as JJ lands three more stomps to the same arm, before dropping beside The Next Generation and pulling the arm back with a Fujiwara armbar!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"And Johnson is wasting no time, going right after the submission!"

 

"He should be going after the back!" despairs King. "I know he's got the Jujigatame in his arsenal and a decent enough cushion in the score, but he should have gone for the back!"

 

Ripping and tearing at the arm, Johnson knows what he needs. He pushes up onto the tips of his toes and leans back, leaning on Maddix's weakened spine in the process, all the while pulling the arm into a unnatural angle!

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

 

Maddix is screaming in agony now as his elbow is in danger of being hyper-extended, his shoulder being ripped from the socket. All this and a Ringpost Exploder has put Landon in a seriously bad way and he looks in serious danger as Hardcastle lies in front of him, halfway out of the ring due to Maddix's ring position.

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

 

Another agonised scream spurs Johnson on to tug at the hold some more. Sensing serious trouble, Megan has had enough and springs into action. Running over to where Hardcastle lies, Megan positions herself on the referee's blind side and pushes the bottom rope into the ring, closer and closer to Landon who makes a laborious crawl forward and reaches past Hardcastle with his free hand...

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

 

...and grabs the ropes!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Megan Skye to the rescue again." sighs Mak, beginning to tire of the antics as much as his co-hort now.

 

With No Disqualifications, Johnson is able to hang onto the hold for a few more seconds than usual. But he realises that any submission on the ropes shouldn't be counted, so rather than waste his energy tearing at the arm with no reward, he releases the hold and climbs back to his feet, taking Landon by the ankle and dragging him away from the ropes. Johnson then looks to bring Landon back up as he reaches down, looking for some hair. However, it's Landon who gets a grip first, taking hold of the front of JJ's tights and tugging the unsuspecting Canadian forward, sending him throat-first into the middle ring rope!!

 

"That'll buy Maddix some time."

 

"It's not time Maddix needs anymore, Mak, it's pinfalls. And quick pinfalls at that."

 

Coming off the ropes, Johnson is once again dis-orientated due to his throat, which allows Landon to go under an arm and quickly swipe him to the canvas with a Complete Shot!

 

"Well this might be one of those quick pins, King! Johnson, face-first, the arm across the throat for good measure..."

 

Landing back first does Landon no favours and for a moment, he seems just as affected by the move by Johnson. But with some more encouragement courtesy of his Perfect 10, Landon fights through the pain to roll JJ onto his back and lounge into a pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

"It'll take more than that, Mak." King states confidently, but only once he's sure JJ's shoulder has risen off the mat in time.

 

Throwing a hand to his head and one to his back, Maddix despairs at the count. But Hardcastle confirms it was just a two and not enough to effect the scoreboard. So, The Next Generation is forced to drag himself up and fight through the pain barrier yet again. Unable to stand, Maddix makes it to one knee and no further before the searing pain across his spine becomes too much. Megan is frantic though, warning Landon as Johnson is recovering in the centre of the ring and reaching his feet also. Stumbling forward, Maddix is back up and beats Johnson up, wrapping him in the kidneys with a kick. The shot doesn't do a whole lot of damage though and Johnson gets to his feet regardless, so Landon fires in another kick, then grasps JJ's hand and looks to send him across the ring with an irish whip. However, with a bad back, Maddix isn't moving anyone anywhere. Forced to release the arm to tend to his back, Maddix is an easy target for JJ as he spins a quick 360 and MOWS through Landon with a Discus Shotgun Lariat!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

The crowd go nuts, as Johnson reaches back and snares one of Landon's still airborne legs, pulling it into a tight pinfall...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH...

 

NO, JUST TWO!

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Gah, one second away!" groans King. "How sweet would it have been if JJ won with something so simple as a clothesline?"

 

"Johnson knows that he's desperately close and he knows one pinfall or one submission will be sufficient, off a clothesline or whatever. But they don't call Landon 'La Cucaracha' without a good reason, King."

 

"Would that reason be because he's a dirty, interminable little insect by any chance?"

 

"I was thinking more the resilience, but to each their own."

 

Without moving from the mat, Johnson reaches out for Landon left arm and attempts to apply a keylock on the limb. Unsurprisingly Landon wants none of that and squirms as much as his aching body will allow to try and get away, eventually able to reach the ropes with his legs and pull himself inch by inch towards the outside of the ring. JJ stops him with a quick grounded elbow though, popping him in the jaw and dazing La Cucaracha. Quickly, JJ then stands up while Maddix is still seeing stars and grabs the arm again, this time trying to apply his patented Jujigatame...

 

 

 

 

...but a straight punch to the gut fends him off.

 

"Maddix needs desperately to stay out of that Jujigatame, or the title is JJ's." points out Francis.

 

Johnson moves in again quickly, but this time Maddix is waiting with his punch, again able to fend JJ off. But still JJ keeps coming and this time he drags Landon the rest of the way to his feet, swinging a kick around the body to connect with the ribs! Down to a knee drops Landon and Johnson goes back to the arm, taking a grip of the left wrist and kicking up underneath the left armpit. A groaning Landon withdraws as Johnson is still determined to go for the arm, following in after and looking to snatch on another Fujiwara...and only being stopped by two fingers, jammed into his eyesockets!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Boy, you can just feel the desperation." says King snidely. "Maddix knows he's in trouble and he's having to stoop lower and lower just to have an outside chance of being champion."

 

The crowd cry foul, but of course there's nothing Hardcastle can do. It's a perfectly legal tactic, no matter how immoral it may be. The same can be said for Maddix's next move too, as once he steadies himself back to his feet he lunges forward with a straight double thrust directly into the blinded Johnson's injured throat. Johnson immediately throws his arms up to his throat and splutters for breath, while Landon ducks under and again drives JJ down, face-first with the Complete Shot!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Johnson's skull bounces off the mat once again. But for some reason, once he's gotten over his own collision with the mat, Landon doesn't go for the pin, preferring instead to gather himself up to his feet.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

The baying Jacksonville crowd is the least of Maddix's worries at the moment as he glances up at the big screen at the head of the wreckage surrounded ramp, seeing the score at 8-3 in his opponent's favour. Maddix then looks down at Johnson, before gingerly exiting the ring and beginning a slow climb to the top rope.

 

"Landon doesn't think the Complete Shot is enough and now, he's heading to the top to try and secure a fall."

 

"But there's better ways to do it than this." protests King, as Landon stops on the middle rope to nurse his back again. "Again, it's more high risk. Johnson wouldn't be going to the top right now, I can guarantee you that, because he's got more sense and he'd know that if he screwed up it could be match over."

 

Regardless of that, Maddix has now reached the top. Megan looks equally as nervous as JJ Johnson's newfound fans as with bad back and all, Landon eases himself into a standing position on the top turnbuckle. One false move could be costly, so Landon remains very cautious as he steps off the turnbuckle and onto the ropes, soaring up...

 

 

 

 

...tucking his legs...

 

 

 

 

 

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

 

...AND DRIVING BOTH FEET INTO THE BACK OF JOHNSON'S HEAD, SMUSHING IT INTO THE MAT!!!!

 

"SUPER DOUBLE STOMP!?!" yells Mak in shock, as Maddix skids to his knees and comes to a relieved stop. Johnson, who had begun to stir moments earlier, is no longer moving and the nerves have been replaced by elation for Megan Skye, as she jumps around ringside in a premature celebration. Forcing himself back around, Maddix crawls slowly on his knees, back over to Johnson, turning him over onto his back and finally slumping weakly over the Canadian with a lateral press...

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOU.....

 

SHOULDER UP!!!

 

"YES!" cries King in elation. "Even after that, he only got a 3 count!!"

 

 

*DING!*

 

"The winner of the fall, earning a count of 3... LANDON MADDIX!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

 

--------------------------------

LANDON MADDIX

6

 

JJ JOHNSON

8

-------------------------------

 

Again the crowd don't quite know whether to react to the fall or the kickout. As the scoreboard updates itself though, many sound out in cheers as they realise that Landon is still trailing by two counts and that another 3 count or a submission wouldn't be enough for a La Cucaracha victory.

 

Coming to this realization at the same time, Landon slams the mat with frustration, knowing that so much effort only earned him a paltry three count. Megan implores him not to worry, but Landon does just that as he gets into a slanging match with referee Hardcastle over the count.

 

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone so disappointed at scoring a three count in my life." muses Mak.

 

"You haven't seen many people as screwed up in the head as Landon though, to be fair."

 

"Well, we are coming down to the crucial stages of this Canadian Death Match, King. JJ Johnson, one fall away. Landon is one four count away, a submission will not quite suffice. It's going to come down to who wants it more, the man who's never been champion or the man who's had the title and wants it back. And I can speak for myself in saying JJ Johnson sure as hell wants that title..."

 

"But I can speak as a former World Champion." crowd King. "And, as a former World Heavyweight Champion, I know that once you've had a taste of that title it becomes an addiction. And like any addiction, you become desperate to feed it once more."

 

"So you're tipping Landon?"

 

"Phhff, fuck no!"

 

Accepting the 3 count, Landon now realises he has to attack and does just that, stomping away at the back of Johnson's neck repeatedly as his focus now switches to a more traditional one. Down on the neck Landon continues to stomp, time after time, before finally his rage subsides and he strides away to try and walk off some of the pain in his back. Having stretched it out, Maddix now leans on the ropes and watches Johnson like a hawk (or even a Hawke), waiting patiently. As soon as Johnson then reaches his feet, Maddix comes forward and strikes...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...landing a forearm! Johnson still seems a little woozy, but manages to fight back...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...with an elbow strike! Maddix wobbles but doesn't go down, regaining his bearing...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...landing another snug forearm strike! Johnson is spun away by the force but that just fires the former Ultimate Fight up, clenching his fists as he whips back around...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and connects with a THUNDEROUS elbow strike! Put into reverse, Maddix goes back four or five steps with his gaze looking decidedly off centre as he tries to steady himself.

 

"These two men going toe to toe, strike for strike!" enthuses Mak, the crowd around him buzzing. "And neither man seems to be backing down!"

 

"Yeah well, Landon can't stay toe to toe for much longer against JJ."

 

Defiant, Johnson watches Maddix and seems to be almost waiting on a response...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and he gets it, lashed right across his chest knifedge style...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...but comes firing right back with another elbow! This one connects across the ear and sends Landon off to the side, eyes frozen wide in surprise. Megan can't bear to watch, as Landon shakes away the cobwebs and sets again...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...chop...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...chop...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

...and a STINGING, straight right jab to the cheek, catching JJ by surprise!

 

"This is just brutal!" Mak gasps. "And Johnson is still standing!"

 

"C'MON JJ!" encourages Maddix, perhaps making the mistake of his lifetime, as Johnson cups him behind the head...

 

 

*THUD!*

 

...for a European uppercut!

 

 

*THUD!*

 

...a second.

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and a vicious Muay Thai kneestrike to the FACE, dropping Landon onto his keister!

 

"Uuugggghhhh..." grimaces Mak. "That was..."

 

"That was great!" King chuckles, interrupting his partner's thoughts.

 

As Johnson takes a moment to recollect his thoughts, Maddix groggily tries to come back up. He now looks decidedly unsteady on his feet and it seems like one more strike will be enough for Johnson to put La Cucaracha down and out. Lucky for Landon, it's his turn.

 

 

 

*SQWUISH!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"And Landon goes to the eyes!"

 

"Ah, he knew he was beaten!" snaps King. "That was a desperate move if ever I saw one!"

 

Johnson reels away and blindly claws at his eyes, Hardcastle looking on powerlessly while Landon now slumps back into a corner and tries to recollect his thoughts. Once they're recollected, Landon stalks after JJ and turns him around, going to the gut with a quick knee before glancing into the crowd and posing.

 

Arms out, palms down.

 

Collecting the arms, Landon applies a double underhook and looks to lift Johnson up...but can't do it, as he tweaks his back again! A groan from Maddix is met by cheers from the fans as he slumps forward, over Johnson's back. Johnson needs no second invitation to backdrop Landon overhead and free himself from the double underhook, saving himself from whatever Maddix's twisted mind had in store. Instead, JJ now has the advantage as he waits on his opponent. The eyes are stinging, the neck and throat too, but Johnson is prepared as Landon stumbles towards him. Avoiding a sprawling attempt to grab him, Johnson shoves Landon in the back to force him into the ropes and as he rebounds, The Next Generation is snared around the waist...

 

 

 

...AND RAILGUNNED!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Tremendous suplex by Johnson, who you feel just needs one more clinical move to clinch this match!"

 

Landon ends up spread-eagle in the middle of the ring and Johnson decides to try his luck, crawling over and making the cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR...

 

KICKOUT!

 

Despite the kickout, Maddix is quite clearly in trouble as Johnson brings him up and sends him into the turnbuckles. The spine strikes the steel and Landon falls to his knees briefly, bringing himself back up and stumbling forward into Johnson's clutches again, whipped 'coast to coast' and into the opposite turnbuckles, again spine-first! Out stumbles Landon again, where JJ waits. A simple double leg takes Maddix down and no sooner has his body bounced off the canvas than Johnson snares up a leg, turning Landon over and applying a single leg crab!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"This could be it!" cries Mak, as Johnson guides his leg back and STANDS on the back of Maddix's head! "Submission hold and all the torque is on that lower back!"

 

"This is what he should have done after the Exploder, but hey, better late than never. So long as he disattaches his spinal cord, all is forgiven."

 

Landon cries out in muffled, mat in the mouth pain as Johnson bends him back in a completely unnatural way!

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

 

Head in hands, Megan Skye fears the worst, as Hardcastle is right in Landon's face, pressing him to submit. Landon wags a finger to say no for now, but as Johnson begins to crouch himself slowly down, the angle of his spine is becoming more and more acute.

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

 

Another attempt at asking Landon to quit ends with another no, as The Next Generation isn't ready to give up on the World Championship yet. Digging deep, Landon reaches up and manages to shrug JJ's foot off of his head and begin to crawl forward, in search of the ropes. Johnson hops along with him though, gaining his balance before placing his foot back on the head! Despairingly Megan sinks down on the outside and senses the worst, as Johnson again begins to crouch, again looking to bend Landon in two. But Landon has other ideas and with his free foot, he thrusts out. The first shot misses...but the second kick grazed Johnson's head, leaving him open for a third which connects fully enough to force JJ into a break of the hold.

 

"C'mon JJ, you can take a little kick in the teeth!" bays King unsympathetically, as Johnson ends up backed against the ropes. "Get on him!"

 

Maddix makes it back to his knees before Johnson strides back in, taking hold of the left arm again. Knowing that can only mean bad things, Maddix flails and flaps, but Johnson strikes him in the side of the head with a back elbow and then snares the arm between Landon's legs. Yelps and cries come from Megan once more, Johnson paying no attention as he secures the pumphandle and sets up an Exploder '98...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...and gets peppered with a succession of elbows to the back of the neck!

 

"Look at him, frantic!" mocks King...

 

 

...despite the fact that Landon has now fought Johnson off, landing enough elbows to drop the Tag Team Champion down onto his hands and knees. Getting over the relief quickly, Maddix then grabs Johnson by the hair...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

Kawada kick!

 

*SMACK!*

 

Kawada!

 

*SMACK!*

 

Kawada!

 

*SMACK!*

 

Kawada!

 

 

 

....AND LANDON THEN APPLIES THE LAND OF NOD!!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Right back to the throat!" gasps Mak. "He's trying to choke Johnson out, not to mention the torque on the neck and the pressure on the back as well! This move has finished off some of the greats in this business!"

 

Megan perks up now as Maddix leans back and pulls back on the head of his Canadian opponent with everything he can muster up from inside. Johnson looks to power his way out before the hold can take it's dehabilitating effects, trying to free his feet out from underneath him...

 

 

 

 

...and he does so, able to twist his way out in front of Landon, trapping himself in a front facelock in the process. That doesn't pose quite as much of a problem for Johnson as the LON did however. Manouevering around the ring, JJ eventually manages to wrap his arms around Maddix's waist and hoists him up for a Northern Lights Suple...

 

 

...NO! Maddix throws his leg up defensively and manages to knee Johnson square in the throat!

 

"Oh, he got him again!"

 

"This is getting ridiculous...Hardcastle needs to step in before Johnson stops breathing!"

 

"I don't think it's that bad yet King."

 

Stepping away from the choking Johnson, Maddix scoots behind and applies a waistlock, levering Johnson up and over with a German, bridging awkwardly into a pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T...

 

 

Landon loses the bridge, Johnson easily kicking out...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...BUT LANDON ROLLS RIGHT THROUGH WITH JOHNSON AND RE-APPLIES THE LAND OF NOD!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"He rolled through with him!" cheers Mak. "This is the exact same sequence that put down Spike Jenkins two weeks ago, the German transitioned from the kickout in the Land Of Nod!"

 

Johnson is caught this time and the hold is locked in before he can even attempt an escape. Up goes a solo cheer from Megan Skye as Landon wrenches back on the head of the Canadian once again, this time managing to reach his hands across and lock his fingers, trapping JJ in the hold!

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Unable to see anything, other than the nostril hairs of his opponent and the blinding lights hanging high above the arena, Johnson reaches out blindly despite knowing that the ropes can't be so close in front of him as to reach them. Planting his hand, JJ starts trying to crawl on his fingertips and knees. Landon sits back though, trapping him in place.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

"I think he's got him King!" enthuses Mak, knowing forewell it'll grate at his partner.

 

"Johnson's fighting it, be patient Mak."

 

Johnson is slowly beginning to face now, the sapping hold taking effect. Maddix is arching his own back in applying the hold, but the adrenaline of an imminent submission wills him on to hanging onto the hold.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Another wrench rips and tears at JJ's neck, the arm under his throat cutting off his oxygen. Now, Johnson's arm is flapping at his side and Landon can sense a victory as he pulls back once more. Hardcastle steps to the side now and checks Johnson for signs of life, getting no response, so he lifts up the free arm...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...IT DROPS!

 

"ONE!"

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Landon nods in approval, as Hardcastle raises the arm again, allowing it to drop...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...AND IT DOES!

 

"TWO!"

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

 

One more is all Landon needs to bring himself within one fall of the World Title and he wills Hardcastle to make the check. Up goes the arm, the crowd nervously hoping as it drops...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...BUT IT STAYS UP!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Johnson's fighting, but he's still trapped in the hold!"

 

"I hate to say it, but Johnson should just tap here." insists King. "If Landon scores a submission, he still needs one more fall! But his pride won't let him tap and live to fight on and if he ends up passing out, he'll be easy pickings for the next fall."

 

"I doubt Johnson will surrender a fall without a fight King, especially via submission, to someone he trained and sparred with."

 

"Yes, I know, but it's not smart. 'JJ refuses to tap' would probably make a cute t-shirt some time, but it isn't appropriate right now."

 

Johnson is fighting now, fists clenched as he starts to try and power up and out. Looking shocked, Landon wrenches back repeatedly, tugging on the head in a desperate attempt to neutralise the Canadian. But Johnson won't give up and he plants his hand for another crawl. Inching forward, Johnson is closing in on the ropes now and Landon knows it, looking to Megan for advice, but she comes up blank as JJ inches forward...

 

 

 

 

 

...reaching out blindly...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...he's close...

 

 

 

 

...closer...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...but still, the hold is sapping his oxygen. JJ briefly slumps again for a moment but with the image of the World Title plastered on the insides of his closed eyelids, Johnson wills himself on once again...

 

 

 

...and he reaches out again, his hand mere centimetres from the middle strand...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...when suddenly, Landon tucks Johnson's head down and sprawls forward, tucking Johnson into a sudden Gedoh Clutch...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

"He got the fal..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOOOUUUUUUUURRRRRRRR!!

 

"WHA...NO!!!"

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Rolling to a seated position, the groggy Johnson looks shocked. And he's about to get even more shocked, as Landon scrambles from the ring and into the waiting arms of Megan Skye.

 

 

"The winner of the fall, earning a count of 4... LANDON MADDIX!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

 

--------------------------------

LANDON MADDIX

10

 

JJ JOHNSON

8

-------------------------------

 

 

"I don't believe it." mumbles King. "I...no!"

 

"And, therefore, your winner of this contest, by a score of 10 falls to 8... and, for the SECOND time, the NEEEEEWWWW Smartmarks Wrestling Federation WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION... LLLAAAAAAANNDDOOOOOOOOONN "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMAAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXX!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Megalomaniac" strikes up through the Alltell Arena again and on the outside of the ring, Landon Maddix is handed the SWF World Title, prompting him to drop his manager and cradle the belt in his arms like a newborn child. Megan guides Landon away from the ring through his celebrations, past the jeering crowd who can't believe what they've just seen.

 

 

Add into that club, JJ Johnson. Sat on his knees in the ring, Johnson cradles his neck with one hand while looking off into the distance with complete dejection in his eyes. If he's sure of what actually happened, he's certainly not sure how he let it happen. Landon certainly never did that in the Jay Hawke dojo.

 

"This is like some sort of...appalling nightmare." King mumbles once more, still taking everything in. "He...he got a four count."

 

"That he did King! Landon Maddix caught Johnson napping, quite literally, taking him out of the Land Of Nod into a flash pin. Johnson was losing consciousness by fighting the Land Of Nod and Maddix took advantage, stunning him with a flash pin...and somehow, Landon Maddix is a two-time SWF World Heavyweight Champion!"

 

"I never thought I'd see this day again." weeps King sadly. "I prayed it'd never happen, I really did. This is...this is painful to watch."

 

 

Johnson continues to watch on from the ring and he climbs to his feet, head hung in disappointment as he kicks out at the air. For Johnson, it's another case of so close yet so far and even the sounds of sympathetic applause for many member of the audience who decide to give him a standing ovation for his efforts is no comfort.

 

 

Elated, Maddix drops to his knees in the aisleway, tears rolling down his cheek as he looks into his reflection in the World Title belt.

 

Fifteen months.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Fifteen months.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Landon looks up from his title belt and to his left to Megan Skye, also with tears in her eyes, although to her credit much more containted than her associate. And as he looks from one to the other, Landon thinks back to that promise he made. That haunting promise, he made to himself months ago, that'd he get everything he's lost back.

 

The World Title.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

 

Megan Skye.

 

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"

"LAN - DON SUCKS!"[/i][/i]

 

 

 

 

Toxxic who?