SWF Lockdown - January 21, 2004

[Kaertos 0]

Before the opening match between Terrence ‘Janus’ Bailey and “Coyote” Coy West for the Hardcore Title, the image is cut to backstage, where the cameraman is running down the narrow hallway past the locker rooms as distant noises become louder and louder as Gus rounds the corner.

 

Finally, the image is revealed: John Duran is beating Terrence Bailey down with a chair! Bailey is already down on the floor, and Duran just lays it in on him, hitting a series of chair shots to the back and to the head of Bailey, as finally referees and security backstage separate Duran from Bailey. Duran puts up no resistance and backs away from the downed Bailey, the camera following behind the Notorious One.

 

“Oh, what are you guys getting all bent out of shape over; I was just giving him a little test before his match tonight! The poor sap will be fine in minutes,” Duran tells the referees and security who are escorting him back to his locker room. “You should’ve given me more time.

 

“That was something else, John.”

 

Duran turns around as he sees the Commissioner of the SWF, “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. Stevens steps into the picture with a pop from the crowd as Duran has a confused look.

 

“What was something else?”

 

“Sneak attacking Terrence like that and hitting him with a chair. That took real class, John.”

 

“I’m glad you appreciate my work.”

 

“Oh yes, certainly. I appreciate it so much I’m sending you home for tonight.”

 

Duran suddenly freezes, the crowd cheering loudly. “What?”

 

“You’re not safe to have in the locker room, you just brutally attacked one of our wrestlers. I’m sending you back to the hotel.”

 

“But I—“

 

“No buts, John! Now get out, and I’ll see you on January 26th when you might just finally get what’s coming to you from Terrence!”

 

The crowd cheers one more time as Grand Slam walks off-screen and Duran frowns, turning to see all the security members ready to take him to the parking garage.

 

“How about that, Bobbo! Grand Slam finally caught Duran red-handed, and doing a heinous act on Terrence Bailey, the man who is defending his Hardcore Title twice in the next week!”

 

“Yay, the commissioner finally got revenge on Duran for wrecking his poor baseball bats. I hope Mark is happy!”

 

Duran walks back to the locker room himself, and a beep is heard as the words of Duran are censored, the crowd still buzzing.

 

Fade to black.

[Kaertos 0]

We fade in from a commercial of everyone's favourite ex-Clannite Thoth advertising the SWF mix of Dance Dance Revolution™ We are shown a scene of many chains and padlocks, with a flickering screen of light in the middle. The countdown has begun.

 

Lockdown is on in three.

 

Two.

 

One.

 

Cue the heavy rock music and the fireworks, as SWF Lockdown is ON the air! Fireworks blast into the air and along the rampway, barely drowning out the cheers of the packed fans! With the explosions and music roaring in the background, the cameras pan all over the jam-packed Alltel Arena! The signs are out in force tonight, as every second or third fan is waving one, be it a generic "Hi Mom!" or "I'm With Stupid" sign, or a more colourful one! Like that one over there, portraying Danny Williams posing over the body of Michael Craven, with the phrase "Danny Beat His Nightmare!", or maybe that one over there, with the SWF's newest redneck all over it drinking beer. As we pan down towards the announce table, we're treated to one final sign - of tag champions Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild, with the phrase "2 Wild and 2 Dangerous 4 Justice & Rule!". And then we're greeted by the beaming mug of Cyclone Comet and the dour face of Bobby Riley!

 

"WEEEEEEEEEELCOME TO S! W! F! LOOOOOOCKDOWN, CITIZENS AND FANS!" Comet calls enthusiastically. "This is CYCLOOOOOONE COMET..."

 

"And Bobby Riley!" adds the ambiguously gay cohost.

 

"And we have one stupendous show for you tonight! Citizen Flesher takes on Citizen Sacred - formerly Citizen Linchpin - in a No Gravity Match!"

 

"Two non-flyers in that sort of match? Hah! What else...oh yeah, we've got Va'aiga and Thugg, the two big angry men, set to kill each other dead in the main event. Along with the ratings."

 

"Now now, Robert! We also have Citizen Wildchild, NOW a tag team champion, taking on Citizen Stryke in a Cruiserweight rules match! But right up, we have our first match of the night!"

 

"Terrence, the big man who really needs to drop the baggage from his name, takes on our newest employee, that creepy jedi redneck with the mullet."

 

"Citizen West...wait, what was that, Robert?"

 

"Nevermind."

 

Suddenly, the lights around the arena dim, but do not go completely out. The fans begin to cheers as the familiar words - [HEIGHT: 7'2] - blaze across the Smarktron in digital green. These words fade out to a pair of black boots walking along ominously, before more words - [WEIGHT: 320lbs] - flash across the screen. The Smarktron then shows us a long white trenchcoat and a scarred chest, as words flash up onto the screen in dangerous red.

 

[sTATUS: RELEASED!]

 

"I stand firm in my solidarity

The path I walk (the path I walk)

I walk in with my own resolve..."]

 

As the sound of Killswitch Engage's "When Darkness Falls" echoes out across the arena, the Smarktron shows black-and-white hair being tossed back, and the familiar green eyes of Terrence "Janus" Bailey! The crowd cheers louder as his name flashes onto the Smarktron in bright green, before it begins to clip scenes from his matches. The stage curtain is swept aside as the seven footer strides out and thrusts his arms into the air, and black and white pyrotechnis go off with loud, repetitive BANGS on either side of him!

 

"When darkness falls! (When darkness falls)

We are reborn!

A dream since the fall of man!

We are reborn..."

 

Through the black-and-white haze of pyrotechnic delight, the Anti-Heel Machine strides down the ramp, trenchcoat flapping behind him. Around his waist, the SWF Hardcore Gamers Championship is visible, and Funyon lifts his microphone as the big man heads around the ring towards the timekeeper's table.

 

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, the champion! At seven-foot-two and weighing three hundred and sixty pounds, he hails from Sydney Australia! He is the Anti-Heel Machine....TERRRRRENCE 'JAAAAAANUSSSSSS' BAAAAAAAIIIIIILEEEEEYYYYYY!"

 

The crowd pops furiously as the seven footer leaves the Hardcore Gamers title at the timekeeper's desk and rolls into the ring. Rising to his feet, the big man thrusts his arms into the air and shucks out of his trenchcoat, handing it to referee Matthew Kivell. The small referee ducks out of the ring to put the coat at the timekeeper's table, as "When Darkness Falls" fades out. It's replaced by the twanging sound of a banjo, causing several fans to cover their ears, and some to look confused. Terrence definitely looks a little on the confused side.

 

Standing on the rampway appears a figure dressed in fairly good jeans, wrestling boots, and a rather worn wifebeater. His slick mullet has the fans either cheering or screaming in fear as he waves to them, showing off the "Got Jesus?" logo on aforementioned shirt. Faint stains can be seen on the shirt, stains so old even the best cleaning couldn't remove them. Even Funyon looks slightly perplexed as he lifts his microphone.

 

"And his opponent....from...." Funyon pauses, squints at his cue card, and shrugs. "..his RV, the SS General Lee Junior! He weighs two hundred and forty pounds and stands at six-foot-six...he is THE COYOOOOOOTE, COOOOOY WEEEEEEST!"

 

As he heads towards the ring, West shakes hands with a few fans rather exhuberantly, saying "It's good to meetcha" and "Do y'all believe in the Lord?" on the way. Several confused fans also find themselves holding a Wal*Mart flyer, cheerily handed to them by the Coyote. As he rolls into the ring and looks up at his behemothic opponent, he holds out yet another flyer, that Terrence carefully takes and inspects. The Coyote tucks the flyers into the back of his pants, as his seven foot opponent continues to look perplexed before tucking the flyer into a pocket.

 

"He really should give that flyer a good looking at."

 

"Why is that, Robert?"

 

"Because it looks like there's some really good deals in here!"

 

"Robert! The match is going to start!"

 

"Oh...sorry!"

 

Riley guiltily hides the Wal*Mart flyer under the table as Matthew Kivell is instructing both men in the rules - or lack thereof - regarding the match. After doing his job, Kivell steps back as both men stretch a little before they move away from each other. And then the bell rings to begin the match.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

As the bell rings, the two men slowly circle each other, and Terrence slowly lifts his arms and gestures for a grapple. Locking his hands against Coy's, the two push against each other and it's blatantly obvious who the stronger man is as the Coyote finds himself being pushed back across the ring. The Anti-Heel Machine releases the grapple and snaps his skull forward, the hard bone of his forehead cracking into the Coyote's face! Sent reeling from the headbutt, the retro redneck finds himself grabbed and lifted up into the air... way up... in a gorilla press! The seven footer pumps his arms once, twice, and easily throws Coy to the mat with a thud. The redneck rolls away and starts climbing up as Terrence advances, and thrusts his leg up in a superkick that catches his opponent under the chin!

 

The Anti-Heel Machine stumbles backwards, holding his jaw as the Coyote bounces off the ropes and leaps into the air, slamming his arm into the seven footer's throat with a leaping lariat! But that just makes Terrence stumble even further, wobbling on his vertical base, staunchly refusing to go down. So the retro redneck runs past his opponent and leaps up behind him, cinching his head for a bulldog headlock, bouncing the Anti-Heel Machine's face into the canvas! The Coyote soon jumps to his feet with a 'Yeeee-haw!', prompting a cheer from the crowd as his opponent begins pushing himself up.

 

"Citizen West is doing his best, it seems. His...uniqueness...definitely seems to ignite something in the fans."

 

"He's a redneck, Comet! He's one of them! Of COURSE they're gonna love him!"

 

"I wonder if Citizen West realises this is a hardcore match..." Comet muses.

 

The crowd seems determined to tell the Coyote it is, beginning a 'WE WANT WEAPONS' chant! Coy puts a hand to his ear as he listens to the crowd, and then climbs out of the ring. The retro redneck strides up to the barrier to chat cheerily with the fans, who tell him that anything goes in this match! Wide-eyed at the prospect of that, the Coyote darts to the apron and lifts it up to look underneath, not noticing the Anti-Heel Machine stepping towards the edge of the ring. Seeing such things as trashcans and chairs, and other things, Coy looks like he's found freebie heaven...

 

...and as he slides a trashcan from under the ring, a shadow falls over him. Before he can look up, the sound of ropes creaking can be heard, and the Anti-Heel Machine falls off the apron with a legdrop that crushes the retro redneck's face into the trashcan! Some of the crowd cheer, but others boo at the action, as West rolls off the compacted trashcan with a thankfully not-busted-open face. Terrence grabs a handful of that greasy mullet, looking mildly disgusted at touching it, and drags the Coyote to his feet. Scooping him up, the Anti-Heel Machine holds the retro redneck in the air, before dropping him side-first across one knee. Not once, not twice, but three times the giant slams Coy's ribs into his knee, before dropping the redneck back to the ground. Crouching by the apron while West rolls around in pain, the seven footer roots around under the ring. Pulling out a singapore cane, followed by a plain old cricket bat, he ponders his next action.

 

"Citizen Bailey is definitely dominating here tonight, Robert. Citizen West has barely managed to phase the big man!"

 

"You know, Comet, I don't like West that much, but he was right about one thing."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Wal*Mart have some really good prices! Check out these drapes!"

 

"...you need help, my non-superhero friend."

 

Finally choosing the cricket bat - as any good Australian would do - the Anti-Heel Machine looks for his opponent. The spot once occupied by Coy West is empty however, and Terrence lifts an eyebrow before scanning the ringside area. Beginning a slow stalk around the ring, the giant looks around and the fans begin cheering and laughing. The reason for this is clear - as he walks away from where he'd left Coy, the retro redneck crawls back out from under the ring! Not only that, the Coyote has an airhorn with him, and he presses a finger to his lips. West begins creeping around the ring like a true hunter, sneaking up on his seven foot foe much to the bemusement of the crowd. The cheering and laughter has Terrence perplexed, and with the cricket bat clutched firmly in one hand, he turns around....

 

*VOOOOOOOT-DOOT-DOOT-DOOT-DOOT!*

 

...and the seven-footer practically jumps out of his skin as the airhorn blasts 'Dixie' into his face at point blank range! Staggering back and blinking dumbly, the man formerly known as Janus is completely unprepared for the redneck slamming the airhorn into his chest! The Coyote wraps his arms around Terrence's waist and grunts, heaving before lifting the big man up and slamming him down again with a belly-to-belly suplex! West picks up the cricket bat almost curiously and looks to the crowd, who cheer him on as he smacks the wooden weapon down into the Anti-Heel Machine's chest! The retro redneck gets into a rhythm, smacking the cricket bat across that broad expanse of Australian chest a total of thirteen, yes THIRTEEN times, before finally throwing it away (and knocking out someone in the crowd!). Pirouetting on one foot, the Coyote hits a corkscrew elbowdrop to that huge chest, for the first actual pinfall attempt of the match!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...KICKOUT!

 

Grabbing a handful of hair and asking very politely "Why couldn't ya just stay dawnh, bohy?", West promptly finds himself reeling back as the giant slams a Knuckle Bomb right into his face! Falling right on his arse in surprise, West tries to shake the birds out as the Anti-Heel Machine sits up. Clutching his reddened chest with a grimace, he puts a hand on the apron and reaches under it with the other, pulling out a steel chair. Slowly rising to his feet, the seven footer opens the chair and sets it up, then lifts his right hand and wiggles the fingers, waiting for his opponent. The crowd begins to chant for the violence, as the Coyote shakes his head vigourously and lifts himself up....straight into the hand that wraps around his throat! Before the giant can try for a chokeslam, however, the retro redneck kicks him in the stomach and steps back, snapping off another superkick that makes Terrence stumble backwards and fall into the chair!

 

"Why don't y'all have a seat while I smack down your hog-sized ass, big boy!" West grins, garnering a pop from the crowd as he ruffles the Anti-Heel Machine's hair and smacks him across both cheeks.

 

The Coyote then begins dragging Terrence to his feet. Wrapping one arm around the giant's upper body and the other around the giant's crotch, West attempts to pull off a powerslam through the chair. Instead, he finds a pair of arms slapping his away and lifting him up onto the air, as the Anti-Heel Machine brings Coy over his shoulder and locks on a backbreaker rack! The Coyote screams out in pain as the giant wrenches his ribs and back, and Terrence merely smiles before taking a small leap into the air and dropping to his knees, wrenching the retro redneck's spine in directions it wasn't meant to go before pushing him off!

 

"Spinal Division! Citizen Bailey gives Citizen West a taste of some back surgery, Robert!"

 

"Painful looking, too!" Riley agrees, pointing at his Wal*Mart flyer. "West can make himself feel better with this massage cream right here!"

 

"Vaseline?" Comet reads.

 

Riley goes bright red as he realises he's pointing at the wrong article, and you can insert your own joke here. Meanwhile, the Coyote continues to roll about in pain, clutching at his chest and back as Terrence leans on the apron, still holding his own chest. Over a dozen shots with a cricket bat can't be good for anyone's health, even if they were as tough as him. Finally, he looks down at West and falls over in a big elbow drop, crashing into the redneck's chest and making the second pinfall attempt of the match!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....KICKOUT!!

 

With some inner reserve of strength probably drawn from his mullet, West pushes the Anti-Heel Machine off him to break up the pin! The giant slowly rises to his feet as Coy rolls away, using the apron to help himself back up to a standing position. The retro redneck is definitely the worse for wear in this situation, clutching his ribs with a grimace as he lifts himself onto the apron and rolls under the bottom rope. As the seven foot monster that is Terrence 'Janus' Bailey follows him under the bottom rope, the Coyote takes a deep breath. The Anti-Heel Machine rolls under the bottom rope and begins to rise to his feet, but a hard knee to his stomach stops that. Wrapping his arm around the giant's neck, Coy West lets out a "YEEEEEHAW!" and attempts to lift the giant up for his patented slingshot suplex! Muscles bulging and straining, he begins to lift the seven footer off the ground...

 

...but it takes only a slight shift of balance before Terrence's feet touch the mat again, and the Anti-Heel Machine pulls Coy off his feet and holds him in a massive, stalling vertical suplex! The giant stands tall, letting all the blood rush to the Coyote's head before he does a little hop and falls back, cratering West's head into the canvas with a jumping brainbuster suplex! The crowd pops furiously as Coy collapses, clutching his head, and the Anti-Heel Machine sits up with a half-grin plastered on his face as the fans cheer for the move he just executed.

 

"NATURAL!" "BORN!" "CHAOS!"

"NATURAL!" "BORN!" "CHAOS!"

"NATURAL!" "BORN!" "CHAOS!"

 

"Citizen Bailey uses the move of his old nemesis and friend, the Antichrist Superstar Crow! That was the Natural Born Chaos!" calls Comet.

 

"And he's not even trying to pin off it. What a stupid Aussie." Riley mutters.

 

"He probably hit it as a tribute to the man he feuded with so long ago, Robert. Citizen Cirillo is no longer part of this federation, remember?"

 

Terrence rises to his feet once more, stepping slowly across the ring towards one of the corners. The Coyote also rolls towards a corner, grabbing at the ropes to help himself up. Disoriented, the retro redneck doesn't see the hulking form crouching at the opposite turnbuckles. Nor does he see the thundering shape charging towards him with shoulder lowered. But he Hears it coming with his hunter's instincts and pulls himself out of the corner, and the Gore meant for Coy West meets the turnbuckle instead, with a loud *CLANG!*. The crowd winces in sympathetic pain as the Anti-Heel Machine stumbles back, clutching at his shoulder. Stumbling forward, the Coyote goes low, grunting as he lifts the giant up, falls back, and drops him throat first over the top rope with a hotshot!

 

Gasping in surprise and aching in various places, Terrence Bailey jerks upright with a wheezing sound, clutching at his throat. West grabs the big man's arm and whips him across the ring, and the Anti-Heel Machine has no choice but to charge across the ring and bounce off the ropes. The Coyote, also aching in various places, is waiting for him, and with a triumphant cry he hoists the seven footer off the ground and PLANTS him with a powerslam that shakes the entire ring! Clinging to the giant's body like it was his stepbrother's, West holds on tight for the pin as Kivell drops to count!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....KICKOUT!!!

 

Thrusting a shoulder into the air, the seven footer kicks out of the pin attempt! West rolls away with a grimace, clutching his ribs and folding his hands as if praying to Jesus. Whether this does something or not is debatable, but the retro redneck's eyes light up after a moment, and he scurries across the ring and under the bottom rope, dropping to the floor and seemingly disappearing from sight. Taking a gulp of air and pushing himself up, the Anti-Heel Machine drags himself across the ring to peer over the edge of the apron, to where Coy is not present. Unbeknownst to the Australian Behemoth, the Wily Coyote has crawled right under the ring and has emerged on the other side, clutching another steel chair! The crowd laughs and cheers for Coy's unorthodox fighting style, as he slides into the ring. The Anti-Heel Machine lifts himself up to his knees, unaware of the redneck coming up behind him with the chair. The noise of the crowd makes him turn and lift himself up in the same motion....

 

*CRACK!*

 

...only to get nailed in the top of the head by a chairshot! The Coyote grins at the effect as the giant shakes his head and straightens up, and a second *CRACK* heralds a reeling Anti-Heel Machine as the chairshot smashes into his face! Smelling the advantage, the retro redneck jams the chair into the seven footer's ribs, then as he doubles over, slams it down for another shot across the broad expanse of Terrence's spine! The big man drops to his knees, pain radiating throughout his body. Clearly in pain, blood running down his face, the seven footer lifts his head up to see Coy lifting the chair yet again. The Anti-Heel Machine narrows his eyes...

 

*KA-RUNCH!*

 

...and Coy West folds like an accordion as the giant lunges from his kneeling position to slam a brutal shoulder into his ribs! The Coyote collapses to the ground, clutching at his chest and abdomen from the impact of the sudden Gore. Terrence is not much better, sprawling on the mat with a blood-soaked face and clutching at his twice maligned shoulder. The crowd continues to chant and cheer for both men, and urging them to get up and continue their fight for the SWF Hardcore Gamers Championship.

 

"Citizen West has been quite...intuitive, Robert! He had Terrence on the defensive but left himself wide open!"

 

"Asif a greasy redneck would be able to beat someone that big!"

 

"He's done a good job of keeping him down, at least."

 

"He can BARELY lift the man, Comet. He's screwed."

 

Finally taking a deep breath, the Anti-Heel Machine sits up AGAIN! He is not indestructible however, the pain clearly evident on his face as he clutches at his shoulder, before slowly working his way up to a vertical base. The Coyote continues to gasp and wheeze on the mat, and so the seven foot monster hops into the air again and throws a leg out - that hits only canvas! Rolling away from the legdrop, West pushes himself up like a prarie dog and pounces on the seated Anti-Heel Machine, knocking him flat and delivering a few good old redneck-style punches to his face! Gasping and straightening, he waves his finger down at the seven footer.

 

"Didn't your ma teach yas to play nice with those less fortunate, boy? And this is how y'all do a legdrop!"

 

The Coyote follows that up by throwing himself into the air and dropping his own leg across the chest of the Australian Behemoth, causing the crowd to pop once more! Jerking on the mat, the Anti-Heel Machine slowly begins to sit up, as West picks up the steel chair once more and prepares to demolish the giant's face. The instant Terrence Bailey is sitting up, he swings the chair - only to have it caught in the big man's hands! Pulling the chair from the Coyote's grip, the seven footer jams it into into West's abdomen, doubling him over. Throwing the chair aside and pushing himself up with a grimace, he tucks the retro redneck into a standing headscissors! What follows is a struggling West going up onto Terrence's shoulders, and then DOWN as the giant nails a monsterous sitout powerbomb and holds it, looking at Kivell!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....

THREEEEEEEEE...NO! NO!

 

"He's still alive!" Comet cheers.

 

"Damn filthy surviving rednecks!" Riley yells.

 

"Robert! We could get sued!"

 

"Sorry!"

 

The crowd cheers as at the last microsecond, Coy West gets his arm off the mat. Terrence shakes his head, and stands up, stumbling back and holding out his arms. The crowd begins to 'oooooooh' as they guess what's coming. Grimacing in obvious pain, the Coyote slowly begins pushing himself off the mat, dazed and aching. And very soon SCREAMING as the Anti-Heel Machine's trunklike limbs pin his arms to his sides, locking in the Over and Out bearhug! Relentlessly, the giant squeezes as West cries out in pain, and the wrasslin' retro redneck's cries quickly fade. Terrence shakes him once, twice, then looks at the referee once more. Kivell lifts Coy's hand once, and nothing happens. Twice, nothing happens. Three times...and it seems the Coyote is well and truely unconscious as the bell rings, signifying the end of the match!

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

"When darkness falls! (when darkness falls)

We are reborn!

A dream since the fall of man!

We are reborn..."

 

The crowd cheers for both men as Kivell dives out of the ring to retrieve what rightfully belongs to the champion. As the referee returns to the ring with Terrence's trenchcoat and SWF Hardcore Gamers Championship belt, Funyon lifts his microphone and shouts to be heard above the roaring noise of the giant's theme music.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen. The WINNER of this bout.....and STIIIIIIIILL! SMARKS! WRESTLING! FEDERATION! HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION! THE ANTI-HEEL MACHINE, TERRRRRRRENCE 'JAAAAAAAAANUS' BAAAAAAAAILEEEEYYYYYY!"

 

After wrapping his belt around his waist and wrapping himself in his trenchcoat, the Anti-Heel Machine gently lifts Coy West off the ground and drapes him over one shoulder. With a smile despite his bloodied features, he gives a thumbs up to the cheering crowd as he steps over the top rope and drops to the floor, heading for the back and the medical area as we cut back to Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley!

 

"A tremendous match from both men, Robert! Citizen Bailey even showing compassion by carrying his opponent back to the medical area in case he's injured!"

 

"Christ, Terrence is such a pansy. I may not like Coy, but he deserved to win. He gave everyone free flyers!"

 

The Smarktron shows the backstage area, and Terrence 'Janus' Bailey meeting up with medical personnel, who take 'The Coyote' off his hands.

 

"We'll check your head out after the show, Robert. Right, now don't go away, citizens and fans! We have Citizen Wildchild and Citizen Stryke taking each other on in a Cruiserweight Rules match after these commercials!"

 

"Say, Comet, do we have Wal*Mart as a sponsor? It could work out really well..."

 

The camera lingers on the image of a helpful Anti-Heel Machine, before we fade to a commercial of Cyclone Comet himself advertising the energy-filled and refreshingly tasty drink that is Pepsi MAX™.

[Kaertos 0]

We fade in on Mike Van Siclen, standing with Ben Hardy in front of the SWF Lockdown banner. Van Siclen stands with a "RIOT ACT" t-shirt on, and his usualy black-and-maroon tights on underneath, while Ben is nattily attired in a black suit. The shorter Hardy looks up at Van Siclen, smiling nervously as he begins.

 

"Ben Hardy here, alongside Mike Van Siclen," Hardy begins, "and Mike, in just eleven days the Clusterfuck will be upon us. On New Year's, you claimed that you were going to win the Clusterfuck -- do you stand by the prediction?"

 

Van Siclen looks at Hardy, dead in the face. "As a matter of fact, Ben, I do. My heart wasn't in the match on Storm, because the winner of that will be exempt from the Clusterfuck, and as we all know being a participant in that twenty-man match has been my goal since I took that leave of absence last July. I've spent five months getting myself amped up for that match, and on Super Bowl Sunday, while most of the nation is watching the Patriots whip the Panthers' ass, everybody who buys Clusterfuck will see Mike Van Siclen be just like the Patriots -- I will enter at three or four, and will go through every other man in that ring, fifteen straight. And just like the Patriots, I will be the last man standing, and on March seventh, I will be the sole Champion of this fed."

 

Hardy nods. "Well said, Mike. Tonight, however, you have a match for the Intercontinental-Television title with one Charlie Matthews -- what are your thoughts on that contest?"

 

"Charlie Matthews is a good guy, and I was very fond of his run with Quiz last year. I think he'd be an excellent guy to hang out with for a day or two, and I think he's a nice enough looking guy, but that doesn't change the fact that tonight I am going to walk down the ramp and wreck his ass, and take his other title."

 

"That's all the questions I have..."

 

"Ask me about Tom Flesher, Ben."

 

"Ah, yes. Over the past couple of weeks..."

 

"Years, Ben."

 

"Okay. Over the past couple of years you've had a certain score to settle with Tom Flesher. What are your thoughts on the Superior One?"

 

"I think he's a great wrestler. I think he's probably a nice enough person. I think he's the best World champion we've had in a while."

 

At this point, Van Siclen stares hard into the camera, no sense of happiness on his face.

 

"But in the same breath I think he stole my spot in the SWF. He never paid his dues, he jumped over much more deserving guys to get there, by any means necessary. He broke my leg -- broke my goddamn leg, Ben -- just so he could leapfrog over me, and get to the SWF that much quicker. And I never got over that, Ben. For two years after that match I languished, trying to reclaim the glory I'd had pre-injury. Well, Ben, I came back -- rejuvenated, ready to take back the top spot. But I knew I couldn't do that without taking out the one man who had done the same to me two years prior... Tom Flesher."

 

Van Siclen nods, remembering the days that haven't stopped replaying in his mind... and then just as quick he's focused again, staring at the camera.

 

"Tom... I dwelled for years on how I wanted to be remembered for beating Tom Flesher while he was at the top of his game. The exact same way he will be remembered for taking me out while I was at the top of my game. So when I found out he was facing Wildchild at the PPV... well, Tom, I have to get my licks in before then."

 

Mike nods once more. "So, Tom, January 26th... the last show before Clusterfuck. Me, you, one on one... no Van Wilder cast, no European title, just your pride versus my vengeance. What do you say?"

 

Van Siclen laughs condescendingly. "I know what you'll say. You're going to accept, Tom, and we're going to have our match, and I am going to win. If you'll remember, the last time we faced, you beat me, and I went into a slump that I just now am getting out of. This time, Tom, I will beat you, and you will go into a slump..."

 

"...but Tom, you are never going to get out of it, and I will spend my entire career making sure of that. You may as well quit now, Tom, because in five days, your career is as good as dead."

 

We close in on Van Siclen's face, deadly serious, and then...

 

Fade.

[Kaertos 0]

WC v. Stryke - Double no-show

[Kaertos 0]

Whistling "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" as the cameras come back from commercial, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens sits behind his cushy commissioners desk, looking over the latest round of paper work, when suddenly, there's a knock at the door...

 

"Knock-knock-knock!"

 

Stevens looks up from his work at the door. He specifically had told his secretary that there were to be no visitors tonight unless he ordered them to come down to his office.

 

"I said no visitors. What's so hard to understand-"

 

 

 

 

[*b]"WHAM!"[/b]

 

The door suddenly flies open, Stevens looking a bit shocked by the identity of the man behind the door as he steps into the office of the SWF Commissioner...

 

"What the hell do you want?!?!"

 

Standing before him as the camera pans out is the loser of the last show's main event, "The King of Nightmares" Michael Craven. He does not look the least bit pleased as he stares down at Stevens, a shallow frown stretching across his displeased face.

 

"You know what I want, Mark..." Craven simply answers back, leading Stevens into his reply.

 

"You want a shot at Williams. Thought so," Stevens says, slumping back down into his seat while Craven jumps into demand mode.

 

"And I want it tonight, against Williams, in the ring. And better yet, let's make it a submissions match. Sound good to you?"

 

Stevens stares at Craven, them looks back down, shaking his head as if he's heard this whole story before.

 

"You don't understand, Craven," Stevens replies with a sigh, shaking his head as he begins to go back to his work. "I can't just give you another shot tonight."

 

Craven, however is not amused that he is being ignored, and quickly he takes matters into his own hands.

 

"No, [*b]you[/b] don't understand, Commish," Craven says, leaning forward as he forcefully points a finger into the commissioner's chest, knocking the paperwork in front of Mark off his desk with his other hand, "I want another title shot. That's all I'm asking."

 

"Like I said," Stevens replies, leaning back to pick up the fallen papers, "I can't just give you another shot tonight. Williams has been given the night off. He's here, but he's not active for tonight, and he beat you anyways." Sorting casually through the papers, Stevens begins the process of reordering them while trying to get Craven out of his office. "Do I have to make myself any clearer, Craven? No means [*b]no[/b]."

 

Craven grits his teeth, seeting in anger that Stevens is still blowing him off. He's not going to politely listen? Then Craven will just have to make him listen, slamming his fist on the desk and startling the commissioner.

 

"I am not fucking happy that Mr. Armbar beat me, and I want another shot to rip him apart and take what is destined to be mine. You can either give me a title shot at the Clusterfuck PPV against Williams and everything will be fine, or you can test my luck, force me to enter the Clusterfuck match, and pray to the soul of Babe Ruth that I win."

 

Leaning forward, Craven gets right into Stevens' face, frocing the commissioner to look up at him. Craven's slight frown curves into a smile now that he has Stevens' attention, and with that, he delivers the last word.

 

"Because if I don't get another shot..." Craven slowly states, "then it will be the worst decision you have ever made, Stevens, because I will find a way to expose you so badly, that you will never show your face in this federation again..."

 

Craven smiles sadistically as he turns and leaves Mark Stevens. His mission is done here, and the threat has been made. It's all up to the commissioner now, Craven thinks as he steps out of the office, and it's only a matter of time before that title is around his waist... before his destiny is fulfilled...

[Kaertos 0]

“So,” says Tom Flesher, leaning back in his chair, talking to no one in particular, “Mike Van Siclen wants a piece of me. He says he wants to settle an old score… he’s mad at me because I broke his leg almost two years ago.”

 

Flesher takes a moment to stare at the ceiling, his gaze unfocused.

 

“I remember that match,” he says. “It was my first defense of the European Title that I’d won from Mike a week earlier. I was right in the middle of some strife with ‘the Fallen Angel’ Shawn Brody. I didn’t know that bastard was only cheering me on so he could try to get the belt off me when I won it… but I beat him at his own game. I beat him, and then I stole his fan base and his slot in the main event.”

 

“I beat Shawn Brody between the night I hit the Burning Hammer on MVS to take his title away, and the night I made my first defense against him. Easter weekend, I beat Mike Van Siclen for the European Title. Two shows later, they threw him back at me…” Flesher chuckles to himself. “He had Ryan Rexford and Tara Reid in his corner, for some reason. I think we had a promotional deal with that Van Wilder movie that was out just in time for Spring Break or something. I was still a little clumsy in the ring, more worried about flirting with Josie and her pussycat than with taking MVS out… but it worked out. I beat him from pillar to post, and I broke his leg.”

 

Tom pauses to collect his thoughts. As the tension hangs in the air, almost pregnant, Flesher hits on the idea he wants to articulate.

 

“It worked out for one reason and one reason only. No matter how many movie stars Mike Van Siclen had, I had something more. Yes, I was clumsy and unpolished in the ring. I was, some might say, a diamond in the rough. Soon, I’d find myself more and more polished, getting shinier with every match I wrestled, every time I found a new counter to one of my opponent’s holds. I’m not a diamond in the rough anymore… I’m a god damn 213-carat diamond, shining so bright that the rest of the SWF can’t do anything but look dull.”

 

“Mike Van Siclen, though… while I got cut, recut and polished, Mike just languished in the SJL. He never got much shinier, and there’s a reason for that. You see, Mike, you can polish a diamond, and it’ll shine. But there’s an old saying we have out in Buffalo… it’s a steel-working city, so maybe we’re a little more frank than you’d like, but I think it’s something you need to know. Mike… you just can’t polish a turd.”

 

“And that’s what it comes down to. Sure, if you want to come after me and try to get revenge for me being that much better than you that I could break your damn leg as part of a title defense, then you’re more than welcome to try. I can’t make any promises, though. I can’t promise you’ll walk out of the ring on your own power, and I can’t promise you’ll have some B-grade teen movie star to help carry you off. I can’t promise you’ll ever get in a ring again, and I absolutely can’t promise that you’ll get what you want – revenge.”

 

“All I can do is tell you this. In those two years, I’ve improved. You haven’t. And with that in mind, is this really a bet you want to make? I don’t think so.”

 

“But if you want to get in the ring with me and let me shine, so be it. I’ll see you next week.”

 

Fade.

[Kaertos 0]

Tom started to write;

Little Muzz then conceded.

So Tom scrapped the match.

 

Your winner… TOM FLESHER!

[Kaertos 0]

As Lockdown comes back on the air, the Camera focuses on the familiar face of the Commissioner of the SWF, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens.

 

He smiles at the audience, both watching this on the SmarkTron in the arena and on every television set at home.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I hate to take up valuable time that is better spent watching the spectacular matches we have lined up for you, but I have an announcement to make."

 

"Since I have been the Commissioner, I have had a lot of guys come into this office and demand things... matches, title shots, more money, anything you can think of. Most of them either got what they wanted because they deserved it or learned their lesson the hard way. But one man has had the unmitigated gall to keep doing it. Week in and week out, Craven has been in this office, or dragging me all over the arena, demanding special matches and title shots and what have you. I have been screamed at, threatened and made a fool of."

 

"I have tried to teach him the error of his ways, tried to show him that, unlike the previous administration, I do what is best for the company and for the fans. But he keeps it up. So tonight, I am giving in. He wants a special match? He wants a special slot on the card? He wants the opportunity to prove himself? He's got it, and he's got it on the second biggest Pay-Per-View of the year."

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, on Clusterf*ck a week from Sunday, we will all have the great priviledge of watching Micheal Craven compete in the Clusterf*ck match itself for a World Title match at From the Fire."

 

The crowd in the arena reacts... well, oddly to the news. Some cheer, some boo, most of them wait for the other shoe to drop.

 

"Oh, and one other thing..."

 

There's the shoe...

 

"Craven will be entrant number one. He wanted something special... he got it. Goodnight, and enjoy the rest of the show."

 

The crowd goes nuts at the news that the hated Craven will have to play iron man if he wants to win the CF match, but somewhere, a former PokeMaster is cursing the name Grand Slam...

[Kaertos 0]

*BOOM*

 

*BOOM*

 

*BOOOM!*

 

Pyro BLASTS AWAY as SWF Lockdown EXPLODES back onto the air, and Andrew W.K.’s “Ready to Die” blares away in the Alltel Arena, to the delight of the Arkansas fans! The Amazin’ One appears on the stage and poses for the fans, acknowledging them before walking down the ramp towards the ring!

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” begins Funyon from the ring, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the S – W – F INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAAAAAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, the challenger! From Harrison, Illinois, weighing in at 231 pounds, this is THE SPECTACLE, MIIIIIIKE VAAAAAAAN SSSSSSSSSSICLENNNNNNNNNN!!!”

 

The crowd roars and begins an “M – V – S!” chant as he slides into the ring, holding his arms high into the air.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, citizens!” greets Comet, “Cyclone Comet here with Bobby Riley, ready to call what should be a spectangular match!”

 

“Comet, you’ve made your hatred for Grappler known, you don’t have to actually lie and say this could be a spanglorious match or anything,” replies Riley.

 

“And his opponent…” begins Funyon, as Metallica’s “Some Kind of Monster” kicks in and Charlie Matthews emerges from backstage, James Matheson (with briefcase), as always, in tow. Matthews still has the ICTV Title Belt around his waist and walks to the ring with complete focus and determination.

 

“…accompanied to the ring by ‘Mister 2004’ James Matheson, from Kansas City, Missouri, weighing in at 301 pounds, this is the I-C-T-V CHAAAAAAAMPION, this is CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSSS!”

 

The hatred could be cut with a butter knife in Arkansas as Matthews climbs onto the apron and enters the ring, removing the belt from his waist and handing it to Nick Soapdish. Matheson takes his spot at ringside, and Soapdish displays the belt to both Matthews and Van Siclen before raising it into the air and calling for the bell, starting the match!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

MVS immediately walks to the center of the ring and calls Grappler to do the same, signaling for a test of strength! The Little Rock crowd has a hearty laugh as Grappler gets a mile-wide grin on his face, and approaches the center. Van Siclen lifts his arms up for the game of ‘mercy’, and as Matthews does the same, MVS, not surprisingly, sends a stiff kick right into Charlie’s midsection, stunning him and doubling him over! The crowd roars at Grappler’s buffoonery, but Mike simply takes advantage of it, as he wraps his arm tightly around Charlie’s head in a side headlock.

 

“Wow, look at him, Mike Van Siclen is soooo cool,” Riley remarks, sarcastically, “god, I can’t wait to see Grappler pound his face in by the end of this match.”

 

“Partial much?” questions Comet.

 

“Well, yeah, of course. Matthews has proven time and time again that he is a WRESTLER. He’s no brain surgeon, he’s no psychologist, he just goes out there to fight. He doesn’t try to be a spectacle or a testicle or whatever Mike Van Siclen claims to be.”

 

Slightly embarrassed, Matthews quickly pushes Van Siclen against the ropes, and, breaking the headlock, he shoves MVS to the opposite ropes. As Mike comes back, Grappler swings his arm out for a clothesline, but MVS ducks this and with Grappler’s back to him, he leaps into the air and shoots his legs out, catching him in the upper back with a beautiful dropkick! The force of the blow pushes Charlie against the ropes, so Van Siclen charges again, this time leaping into the air driving his knee into Matthews’ back. Grappler teeters against the top rope and, thinking of the Clusterfuck (which is just 11 days away, only on pay-per-view!), MVS lifts Grappler’s legs up and pushes him over the top rope, all the way out of the ring and down to the floor!

 

“M – V – S!”

 

“M – V – S!”

 

The Spectacle acknowledges the crowd as Grappler rises to his feet, in complete shock of what happened. James Matheson rushes over to him and tells him not to sweat the small stuff (and MVS is ALL small stuff). Matthews simply nods and slides back into the ring, where Van Siclen is leaning against a side of the ring, just begging for Charlie to approach him. Despite everyone in Arkansas (and Saudi Arabia) seeing this coming a mile away, Matthews dumbly charges at his opponent, and MVS simply ducks down, using Grappler’s momentum as he stands up, flipping him all the way over the top rope and out of the ring once again, to the delight of the crowd!

 

“You can NOT be serious!” says Comet, grinning, “Citizen Matthews may be one of the STUPIDEST of the STUPIDS! Mike Van Siclen TELEGRAPHED that and our wonderful ICTV Champion fell right into his trap!”

 

“Well, it’s not like this is important or anything,” rebuts Riley, “Grappler is just…getting some exercise. MVS isn’t really doing anything to hurt Matthews, except maybe his spirit. But I digress.”

 

Grappler’s eyes are saucers as he gets onto his feet again, hurriedly sliding back into the ring. Once AGAIN MVS is leaning against the ropes, telling Grappler to come and get some more. The Alltel Arena is wholeheartedly yukking it up as Grappler stares at Mike…but the nods. Obviously with a plan in his head, Matthews charges at Mike, who lowers his head…and Charlie lifts his boot up, catching MVS right in the forehead with a kick. Matthews then rears his arm back and slugs Mike across the face, before shouting “YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TRICK ME A THIRD TIME, DIDN’T YOU?! WELL, I’M ALLLLL MAN!” Despite the fact that the second sentence makes no sense, Grappler places Mike’s head between his legs in a standing headscissors. He reaches down for a piledriver…but MIKE STANDS UP, FLIPPING GRAPPLER OVER HIS HEAD AND OVER THE TOP ROPE FOR A *THIRD* TIME!! The crowd, simply put, explodes as Charlie becomes familiar with the outside protective mats yet again.

 

“Something HAS to be wrong,” starts Riley, “completely, totally, obscenely wrong. This isn’t our ICTV Champion…something must’ve thrown him off his game. Maybe it was Sacred coming back? Maybe it’s Mike’s grotesquely shaped pelvic region? I mean…good god, this is awful!”

 

“Most of Citizen Matthews’ matches are, Bobbo,” replies Comet, smiling, “and I’m glad you’ve finally come to that conclusion.”

 

As frustrated as ever, Charlie Matthews reenters the ring again. He ignores the taunting of Van Siclen and the fans of Little Rock, and simply walks to the center of the ring and calls to Mike for a collar-elbow tie-up. MVS obliges, and the two lock horns before Grappler simply hurls Siclen against the turnbuckle. Charlie stalks the challenger and traps him in the corner. From there, he rears back and unleashes chops to Van Siclen’s windpipe, harming the air passage more and more with each chop. After five, Grappler simply presses his hands against Mike’s windpipe, choking the life out of him! Nick Soapdish finally interjects himself in the match, administering the five count to make Matthews release the hold.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“FIV-“

 

At the last possible moment, Matthews releases the choke. Without rest, however, he pulls MVS out of the corner and applies a front facelock, lifting Mike by the tights upside down, vertically in the air. He holds him there for five seconds before falling backwards, grounding him with an enormous vertical suplex. Grappler rolls through with the front facelock and keeps it on as he rises to his feet again. This time, he holds his arm out and mockingly shouts, “CODE RED!” before spinning around to elbow the back of Mike’s head. However, the Spectacle has his own move scouted and shoves Grappler against the ropes. As Matthews rebounds, he sees MVS is only regrouping and lifts his leg up, catching him square in the face with a BIG boot. As Van Siclen falls, Grappler has a hearty laugh, much to the chagrin of the Arkansas fans.

 

“Well, that was fast,” remarks Comet, “Grappler went from being the BUTT of jokes in this match to putting the ICTV Title challenger on HIS BUTT! I think Citizen Siclen only served to enrage the mighty beast!”

 

“As I’ve *always* said, Comet, it’s not about what happens early in the match, it’s what you do in the REST of the match that matters. So, booyah to your mother, baby!”

 

Grappler forcefully lifts Mike to his feet and grabs him by the arm, whipping him towards the nearest turnbuckle. As MVS hits, Matthews charges in, swinging his elbow around for a big smash. However, Siclen uses his speed to move out of the way, and Charlie hits the post head-on. Van Siclen turns the champion around and rears back, slapping Grappler hard across the chest with knife-edge chops!

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOO!”

 

MVS grabs Charlie by the arm and attempts to whip him out of the corner. However, Matthews reverses this by spinning around, but instead of whipping MVS, he simply kicks his leg downward, catching Mike in the left kneecap with a NASTY kick! Van Siclen immediately drops down to his right knee, nursing his left, but Grappler is relentless as he grabs Mike by the left leg, standing him up. He then spins MVS around and drops him on his back with a dragon screw legwhip. Keeping the chain going, Charlie holds onto the leg and spins, dropping his elbow right onto the knee, and then pulling on the leg with a simple leglock.

 

“Well, Charlie Matthews has found his point of focus in the match,” remarks Comet, “and now comes the time where we all get bored to death. Folks, if you want to get up and relieve yourselves, or get a soda-“

 

“…and you say *I’M* PARTIAL?!” shouts Riley, “my GOD, this man is simply out there – get this – WRESTLING, and all you can do is, pardon my French, SHIT all over his performance! Damn it, Comet, appreciate this man for what he is! He isn’t out there to entertain; he’s out there to WRESTLE!”

 

Matthews releases the leglock, however, but keeps a hold onto Mike’s leg. He reaches his own feet and spins his body around the left leg, executing a spinning toe hold. Grappler WRENCHES on the move and the fans in the Alltel Arena can practically feel MVS’ leg ripping at the seams. Charlie decides to spin around the leg for another rotation and another dose of torque, but as he has his back turned, Siclen literally kicks his ass with his free leg and shoves Grappler away. This, for whatever reason, causes James Matheson to LEAP onto the apron, asking Nick Soapdish just what the HELL is up with that!

 

“The buttocks is, in some way, connected to the testicles! I mean, hello, that was just a LOW BLOW!” Matheson cries to Soapdish, but the referee ignores him. Meanwhile, MVS catches his breath in the corner, but Grappler stalks his enemy in the corner. However, as Matthews gets close, Van Siclen does exactly what Matheson claimed he was doing earlier, as he lifts his arm up right between Grappler’s legs!

 

*CHING!*

 

Soapdish turns around one second too late, as Grappler collapses to the mat holding his nether region. MVS gingerly climbs to the top rope with his back to the ring, and seamlessly arches backward, flipping through the air with a picture perfect moonsault, landing right on top of Matthews! The crowd ROARS as Soapdish moves into position to count the pin!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Matthews gets his shoulder off the canvas, despite the burning sensation in his testicles. He rises up to his knees, as Van Siclen waits for him to get up, playing to the crowd. This is a bad move, as Grappler lunges towards MVS’ leg, attacking the left knee with a vicious chop block that causes Mike to collapse to the mat!

 

“I must say,” begins Comet, “that if there’s one thing Matthews knows how to do well, it’s focusing on a body part. Whether it’s the ribs, back, neck, or in this case, Citizen Siclen’s leg, he knows how to make his opponent SQUEAL and CRINGE!”

 

With Mike down, Grappler charges to the ropes, and as he comes back, he leaps into the air looking to splash the prone, injured leg…but MVS moves it out of the way! Matthews eats nothing but canvas as he struggles to reach his feet. Van Siclen, meanwhile, summons the YJ Stinger he consumed earlier and practically leaps up, grabbing Charlie by the head before sitting out, crushing his jaw against his own head! As Matthews stumbles backwards holding his jaw, Van Siclen trips him up with a double leg takedown and holds onto both of his legs, snapping them apart with a wishbone! The crowd roars at this sudden occurrence, and jovially breaks out into a LOUD “M – V – S!” chant. James Matheson covers his ears at ringside, shouting at the “inbred hick cousin-magnets” to shut their mouths. Meanwhile, Siclen grabs the legs of Matthews again and rolls forward, trapping him down in a bridge pin as Nick Soapdish goes down to count!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Grappler is able to get Mike’s 231 pounds off of him before the three count, narrowly avoiding ICTV Title defeat. MVS keeps on his new-found advantage, however, bringing Matthews up to his feet. He wraps in a tight front facelock on Grappler, pulling his arm back looking for the Code Red!

 

“I can’t believe this!” says Comet, overjoyed, “Mike Van Siclen went from being tortured to on the MOVE, and in the running to WIN this match and the Championship!”

 

“I wouldn’t count this out too early, Comet. Something could happen at any second that turns the entire tide of this match. You’ll see.”

 

As Mike rotates to execute the elbow, Grappler stops him and lifts him up into the air diagonally for a backdrop suplex, but Mike flips out of it, landing behind Grappler…and RIGHT onto his LEFT KNEE! The leg folds under the pressure and he collapses to the mat.

 

“SEE?!” says Riley, satisfied. “Three two one, I’m the bomb.”

 

Proud of his ‘accomplishment’, Matthews kills the crowd by grabbing MVS by the leg and turning around, pulling back with a perfectly-executed single leg crab. The crowd jeers, alternating with chants of “GRAP – PLER – SUCKS!” and “LET’S – GO – MIKE!” Matheson, meanwhile, simply growls strategy at his meal ticket, from “PULL BACK ON IT!” to “DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU!” Matthews takes heed to his manager’s advice, as he wrenches hard on Mike’s leg, giving Mike (and the fans) the most punishment possible. The pro-Van Siclen chants resound loudest through the arena, as Mike desperately fights to escape the hold. He makes a valiant attempt as he crawls…slowly… closer and closer to his target, the bottom rope. The crowd gets louder with each inch closer, and as he gets within arm-reaching distance the crowd goes bananas…until James Matheson, unbeknownst to Nick Soapdish, pulls the rope back!

 

“THIS IS GENIUS!” “THIS IS SICKENING!” Riley and Comet, respectively, cry out.

 

The crowd gets MADLY IN DISGUST with the mouthpiece for the Unnamed, but he simply laughs and laughs as MVS struggles and struggles. Seeing no other alternative, and being in such excruciating pain, Mike lifts his hand up, seemingly to tap…until Nick Soapdish sees Matheson pulling the rope back, and orders him to let go! As soon as he does, the rope becomes immediately accessible, and Van Siclen grabs the bottom rope, forcing Grappler to break the half crab! The crowd erupts not unlike Mount St. Helens, as Mike rolls to the corner to recover. However, Grappler doesn’t give him recoup time, as he heads right to him in the corner and stands side-by-side with him, holding his left leg. He lifts MVS up for a shinbreaker, but Van Siclen smartly holds onto the top rope for dear life! Frustrated, Grappler releases the hold and instead showers Mike with clubbing punches to the ribs and head. He grabs Mike by the arm and whips him towards the ropes, but as Mike powers back, he ducks under Matthews’ swinging arm and crosses both of his arms over his face, falling backwards and dropping his head to the mat with the Red Light!

 

“STOP!” the fans cry.

 

…

 

 

“CONTINUE!” MVS shouts, five seconds later. After expending what seems to be his last ounce of energy, Mike lays an arm over Grappler as Nick Soapdish and the crowd enthusiastically counts.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

“THR – NOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Grappler gets his shoulder up again, much to the chagrin of the crowd. Yet another LOUD “LET’S – GO – MIKE!” chant resounds through the Alltel Arena, and the traditional clapping and stomping commences.

 

“This is unreal!” notes Comet, “Mike Van Siclen keeps making comeback after comeback…I didn’t think it was possible against someone like Charlie Matthews!”

 

“Neither did I, Comet,” agrees Riley, “but that’s the way the mustard squirts. I just hope that something goes horribly, horribly wrong with the Testicle’s leg. Hey, you think he’ll get leprosy?”

 

“WOULD YOU STOP!” shouts Comet, imitating one of the great commentators of ages old.

 

MVS reaches his feet and helps Grappler do the same, only to put him in a front facelock once more! He rotates around to execute the Code Red, but AGAIN Grappler lifts him into the air for a backdrop! And, again, Mike flips over Matthews…but this time he lands on only his right leg! Van Siclen stands his ground as Matthews scoffs with his back turned, unaware of what happened. However, when he does turn around, Mike leaps up and flips around, connecting his right leg with Grappler’s face in a beautiful spinning wheel kick! As Charlie hits the mat, MVS slowly but surely walks over to the turnbuckle, and he gingerly climbs up to the top rope. With one look, he leaps off with his leg out, and drops it down right across Charlie’s throat with the Van Siclen guillotine! The crowd roars with delight as MVS practically collapses on top of Matthews and Nick Soapdish counts the pin again!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

…”FOOT ON THE ROPE!”

 

The crowd deflates as Matthews uses his ring presence to escape the seemingly inevitable pin! James Matheson has a heart attack at ringside and, apparently, he can only do so on the apron of the ring. As he talks to Nick Soapdish about his condition and asks if he can recommend any good cardiologists, Mike reaches down to pick Grappler up-

 

 

*CHING!*

 

-only to have Grappler lift his arm up and sock Mike right in the Spectacle’s Testicles! The crowd groans as MVS doubles over, tenderly caring to both his leg and his balls. Matthews moves to Mike’s side and hoists him into almost a torture rack position, getting him ready for the Judgment Slam. However, instead of dropping him on his back, Charlie moves to the side he came, forcefully dropping Mike down feet first! The impact jars Mike’s knee and he collapses again, holding his leg in immense pain! Grappler continues the assault, as he brings Mike up and, like before, bends his left leg, lifting him up into the air, and this time successfully dropping the bent leg across his own with a shinbreaker! As MVS cries out, Grappler holds onto the leg and again twists around, wrenching it with another dragon screw! Charlie stays on the leg and this time folds it over the fallen Van Siclen’s body, holding him down into a pin as Soapdish counts!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

“THR – NO! KICKOUT!”

 

Indeed, Mike gets the shoulder up just in the nick of time, and Charlie Matthews looks none-too-pleased. Grappler makes the international symbol for “THAT’S IT!” and lifts Mike up, placing him in the standing headscissors for the Powerbomb!

 

“I have to question this,” begins Comet, “I mean, he’s done so much work on Van Siclen’s leg, and he’s going to end it with the Powerbomb? Uhh, check please?”

 

“It’s all…part of the plan,” assures Riley, “I mean, Grappler has a plan for everything. Everything happens for a reason…every cloud has a silver lining, something like that.”

 

Matthews reaches down and flips Mike up onto his shoulders, looking to slam him to his death…but Mike presses all his weight against Grappler’s neck, and the force causes Grappler to fall backwards, with Mike on top of him! Successfully stopping the powerbomb, Van Siclen gets up off of Grappler and, stepping gingerly on his left leg, lifts Grappler up. This time HE places Matthews in a standing headscissors and lifts him so he hangs vertically upside down. Mike steps over Grappler’s arms (the weight of the champion causes Mike to stagger back against the ropes, however) and the crowd reaches a fevered pitch as Mike prepares the Riot Act II…

 

 

*SMASH!*

 

 

…but James Matheson, without Nick Soapdish seeing, reaches through the ropes and slams his briefcase against the left knee of Mike Van Siclen! The Spectacle collapses to the mat, releasing Grappler from his hold and the challenger cries out in absolute pain. Groggily, Charlie moves to the legs of his opponent and grabs the left, spinning around it. From there he locks his legs in the shape of a 4 and falls back, executing the time-tested figure four leglock!

 

“Good god almighty!” cries Comet, “this is an old school move if there ever was one! Thousands of people have tapped out to this move, and that’s without their leg being absolutely DECIMATED like Mike Van Siclen’s has tonight!”

 

“Ba-da-ba-ba-ba!” sings Riley, “I’m LOVIN IT! Mike is going to tap, James Matheson is a genius, and Grappler will STILL be ICTV Champion!”

 

Matthews falls on his back, wrenching on Mike’s practically shattered left knee. Van Siclen cries out in pain, doing whatever he can to fight free (to no avail). An “MVS!” chant resounds louder than ever, but Mike still can’t get the help he needs.

 

“They’re in the middle of the ring, baby!” cries Riley, “and there’s NO WAY Mike can get out of this!”

 

Mike, despite all of his pain, looks to the left, to the right, and behind him. It all looks so close…but so impossible to reach…Nick Soapdish asks if he wants to tap, but Van Siclen refuses. He would never…ever…tap…

 

…but everything is getting so dark…so…very…

 

Mike’s eyes shut and he falls straight on his back. With no movement, Soapdish has no choice but to count his shoulders down.

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEE!”

 

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“My GOD!” cries Comet, “Would you look at the GUTS of Mike Van Siclen! Through all the pain he was in, he refused to tap, and would rather black out! What a CHAMPION!”

 

“Champion? He’s not THE Champion, Comet! He just got pinned, and Grappler is STILL ICTV CHAMPION!”

 

Funyon stands up and booms, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, AND STIIIIIIIIIL SWF ICTV CHAMPION, CHAAAAAAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSSSS!!!”

 

Soapdish retrieves the belt and hands it to Matthews, who finally releases the Figure Four. James Matheson jumps into the ring, overjoyed with his client as “Some Kind of Monster” booms in the Alltel Arena. Soapdish checks on Mike’s condition as we…

 

 

FADE OUT

[Kaertos 0]

“Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora!

Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora!”

 

The ancient New Zealand war chant, "Haka Te Ra", plays over the top of the hip-hop beat of Method Man’s “Bring Da Pain”, and red strobe lights pierce the darkness to show a glimpse of Va’aiga making his slow descent down the entrance ramp. His robe flows quietly behind him, but the fans are less than silent as they bestow their hatred on Va’aiga.

 

(Funyon) – Ladies and gentlemen…the following contest is our MAIN EVENT, and is scheduled for ONE FALL!! Introducing first, hailing from Rotorua, Aotearoa…weighing in at 309 pounds…THE MAORI BADAAAAASSSSSS...VA’AAAAAAAIIIIIIGGGGGGAAAAA!!!

 

The boos from the crowd only grow with the announcement of his name, but that does not deter the Maori from his usual routine. He climbs into the ring and removes his robe, which is quickly picked up by referee Sexton Hardcastle, and then Va’aiga leans over the ropes, stares out at the crowd, and…

 

“HI!!”

 

(Comet) – So…what do you think Bobby? Va’aiga or Thugg? Break it down for us…

 

(Riley) – Break it down?? I’m not an analyst…I’m the color guy. Isn’t that in your job description?

 

(Comet) – No, not really…I just thought I’d ask you, and then we can discuss the picks like on one of those ESPN shows.

 

(Riley) – Hate to break it to you, but they don’t pay us to make expert picks. They pay us to describe the action in such a manner that everyone belives…

 

(Comet) – RILEY!!

 

(Riley) – What?

 

(Comet) – LOOK! Thugg’s coming…

 

(Riley) – Nice save, jackass.

 

 

Darkness fills the arena once more and the electric guitar starts up with a hip-hop beat, leading to…

 

“They don’t know…”

“Who we beeeee!” (2X)

 

“What they don’t know is…”

 

 

KA-BOOOOOOOM!!!

 

 

…the huge wall of fire that erupts on the stage, driving some fans back into their seats. In the wake of the blaze stands the gigantic, angry, black man, who stares only into the ring at Va’aiga. His presence on the stage is enough to get the fans back up to their feet and recommence with the boos, the loudest of the evening.

 

(Comet) – But seriously…give me a pick Bobby. Based on what you know about both these athletes, who do you think will come out on top.

 

(Riley) – I’m not picking because you’re gonna throw it back in my face at the end of the show…

 

On the stage, Thugg finally walks through the fire and starts down the ramp, causing several nearby fans to throw their empty soda cups at him. HVT does not take too kindly to this, and starts towards the guilty fans, but security gathers them up before he can reach them.

 

(Funyon) – And his opponent…hailing from the nation’s capitol, Washington, D.C…weighing in at 386 pounds…THE ANGRY BLACK MAAAAAN…H…………V………T!!!!

 

“H-Ville”

 

“H-Ville”

 

 

The fans let Thugg have it with his old moniker, but Thugg merely stomps to the ring. Once there, HVT climbs up to the apron, and steps over the top rope, never taking his eyes off of Va’aiga standing near the center of the ring.

 

(Comet) – C’mon…just pick.

 

(Riley) – Ok…fine. I’m gonna pick Thugg…he’s always been my main man, and you just can’t go wrong there.

 

(Comet) – Interesting pick…interesting indeed…Well folks, looks like we’re just about ready to get started with our main event…

 

(Riley) – HEY!!! What about your pick??

 

(Comet) – Oh please…I would never be so bold as to think I know who’s gonna win. I couldn’t put myself out there like that…it’d just be too embarrassing if I was wrong.

 

(Riley) – YOU SON OF A…

 

(Comet) – INSIDE the ring…We have Thugg and Va’aiga ready to go…and by the looks of things, it doesn’t appear there is any love lost between these two.

 

Inside the ring, HVT and the Maori Badass stand toe to toe, their large frames bumping into one another. The fans, with no one to really get behind, just simply boo both men.

 

DING DING DING

 

(Comet) – And there’s the bell…

 

(Riley) – Are you kidding me? So, you’re just not gonna pick?

 

(Comet) – Hahahahaha…nope. I can’t believe you did…

 

 

“So, you da dude dat beat my bother, huh?”

 

 

(Riley) – You talked me into it, you bastard!

 

 

“I hurt a lot of people.”

 

 

(Comet) – Didn’t have to talk very long. Sounded to me like you really wanted to tell the world you that Thugg’s gonna win.

 

 

“Yeah…I bet you do dogg...cause you da big bad mayberry...uhhhh…malaria…malori…what is it?”

 

“It’s Maori you fuck!”

 

 

(Riley) – I hate you so much.

 

(Comet) – I know…Looks like there’s some trash talk in the ring there…

 

 

“Yo…careful, boy, fo’ I gotta get all up in yo grill.”

 

“Your bother wasn’t shit…and you ain’t shit. You ain’t never seen nothing like the Maori Badass.”

 

“Yo, whateva…Maglori…Manori…big fuckin’ orgy…it don’t matter. Time to die…just like all the other bitches.”

 

And with that, Thugg throws a huge right hand that lands squarely on the chin of Va’aiga…

 

 

(Comet) – Huge right hand by Thugg to kick things off!!!

 

 

…but Va’aiga just absorbs the blow and turns his head back to face HVT with a scowl.

 

 

“That all you got……boy?”

 

 

HVT grits his teeth in anger, and lands a second huge right hand that would send a normal man flying, but again, the Maori Badass takes the blow without as much as a wince.

 

(Comet) – And another right hand from Thugg, but they’re not doing any damage!! Va’aiga is just standing there and taking these right hands, but they don’t hurt him.

 

(Riley) – I don’t think Thugg, even with his Hall of Fame status, has seen anyone like Va’aiga.

 

Another blow from Thugg to Va’aiga’s chin makes the fans cringe at the power, but Va’aiga still doesn’t budge, which truly pisses HVT off.

 

 

“C’mon fat boy…you got more for me?”

 

 

HVT lets out a scream, and really steps into a right hand, but this time, instead of absorbing the blow, Va’aiga steps to his left, allowing Thugg’s momentum to carry him right past the Maori. However, just to add on a little special insult, Va’aiga turns and gives Thugg a little shove in the back, causing him to stumble all the way to the far ropes.

 

(Comet) – You may be right about that Bobby. All jokes aside, Thugg is a tremendous athlete, and his accomplishments are unparalleled in this industry. BUT…he’s never seen anything like the Maori Badass, and by the looks of things, he might be in for the fight of his life.

 

Thugg clutches the far ropes and glares back at Va’aiga, who stands tall in the ring. Va’aiga waves in the DC native, and Thugg growls and breaks for the Maori. Va’aiga sidesteps the blind charging Thugg, grabs his head, and tosses him easily over the top rope on the far side of the ring.

 

(Riley) – I’ve never seen anything like this before, Comet. I’ve never seen anyone treat Thugg like this.

 

(Comet) – They don’t call him “violence personified” for nothing.

 

The fans actually enjoy Va’aiga’s treatment of Thugg, as the big man crashes to the floor and rolls all the way to the base of the announce table. He quickly gets back to his feet, where he finds very menacing Va’aiga standing at the far ropes staring out at him.

 

 

“Fuck this!”

 

 

With anger etched all over his face, HVT storms over to the timekeeper and throws him from his chair. He grabs the chair, slams it together, and sets off for the ring.

 

(Riley) – He’s got a chair Comet! Forget the match…Thugg is pissed.

 

(Comet) – I think he’s embarrassed, and now he’s a desperate man. This does not bode well for Thugg going forward, I can tell you that.

 

 

“I’m gonna pound your fuckin’ face in yo!”

 

“Come get some…”

 

 

However, as Thugg approaches the apron, out slides Sexton Hardcastle, and the referee moves in between Thugg and the ring, preventing the big man from reaching the Maori.

 

 

“Yo! Get outta the way!”

 

“Put it down Thugg!”

 

“You want some too?”

 

 

HVT makes a move towards Hardcastle, which causes the fans to boo, but more importantly, causes Hardcastle to jump to the side and away from Thugg.

 

(Comet) – And now referee Hardcastle is trying to get Thugg to put the chair down before he gets disqualified.

 

(Riley) – I don’t think that matters to Thugg right now…he looks like all he wants to do is impale Va’aiga’s face.

 

With Hardcastle out of the way and with Va’aiga looking on from the far ropes, Thugg starts towards the ring again, but Sexton jumps in again, this time, with a little bit less authority.

 

 

”C’mon Thugg…drop the chair. You’ll be DQed.”

 

“Shut the fuck up…Dis bitch needs to learn some respect. I’m gonna teach him.”

 

“Think about…”

 

“MOVE BITCH!”

 

 

Thugg lunges at Hardcastle again, causing the cowardly referee to scatter again. With the fans booing starting to increase in volume, Thugg starts towards the ring once more…

 

 

“You’re dead!”

 

 

…but before he can slide in, referee Sexton Hardcastle darts in quickly and snatches the chair from Thugg’s grasp, causing HVT to turn in surprise.

 

(Riley) – Uh oh…Hardcastle’s done it this time…

 

HVT stares daggers into the referee, while Hardcastle starts to retreat. HVT storms slowly towards him, all the while, Sexton backs up and pleads for Thugg not to hit him…

 

 

BAM!

 

 

 

…until Va’aiga lands a hard Double Axe Handle on his back from behind!!

 

(Comet) – And Va’aiga takes advantage of Thugg being distracted! Nice work from the big man out of New Zealand.

 

Thugg stumbles forward a bit form the blow, more out or surprise rather than pain, and then he darts around just in time to catch a hard right hand to the jaw from the Maori.

 

(Riley) – Va’aiga just saved Hardcastle’s ass there…cause Thugg was gonna tear him a new one.

 

Meanwhile, the fans enjoy the match as Va’aiga pounds Thugg all the way back to the left side crowd barrier with right hands. Another hard right sends Thugg stumbling down the left side of the ring, at which point he rolls himself back into the ring and gets to his feet holding his jaw. Va’aiga slides in after him and quickly gets to his feet as well.

 

(Comet) – I think Thugg’s pride is hurt more than anything else.

 

Thugg stands near the center of the ring, with Va’aiga on his feet as well. HVT starts to walk towards the standing Va’aiga, and immediately thrusts his right hand in the air, causing a pop from the crowd.

 

(Riley) – Oooo! Test of strength!

 

(Comet) – This could be to Thugg’s advantage here. I think he’s the stronger of the two.

 

Va’aiga looks up at Thugg’s hand, and then eagerly takes it, causing another pop from the crowd. However, before the test of strength can begin, Thugg immediately drives a boot into the Maori’s gut, causing him to double over. He then takes his massive forearm and drives it down on Va’aiga’s back, sending the other big man down to one knee.

 

(Comet) – Now there’s a smart move by Thugg…underhanded, but smart.

 

(Riley) – He was surprised at first, and I think Va’aiga’s abilities caught him off guard a little bit. But I think he’s got it together now, and we should see normal Thugg domination from here on out.

 

Va’aiga starts to get back this his feet, and Thugg lands a hard uppercut to Va’aiga’s throat that sends him back several paces. This allows Thugg to move in, grab Va’aiga, and whip him to the near side ropes. The Maori contorts the ropes significantly, and rebounds towards Thugg. When Va’aiga gets close enough, Thugg wraps his arms around his waist, and using the Va’aiga’s own momentum, carries him around and down to the mat with a Belly to Belly Suplex!

 

(Comet) – Nice Belly to Belly by Thugg there. So, you’re sticking by your pick then?

 

(Riley) – You mean the pick you tricked me into making? Yes I am. And at least I have balls enough to make a pick…

 

(Comet) – That’s up for debate.

 

Remaining on Va’aiga after the Suplex, Thugg adjusts his position and hooks the Maori’s leg…

 

(Comet) – Thugg with the cover!!!

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

NO!

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga kicks out at two!

 

HVT gets quickly back to his feet, and meets Va’aiga just as he makes it up to his. Thugg immediately pushes the Maori back to the far left corner of the ring, and, once there, drives a forearm into his head to keep him at bay. The blow, however, is absorbed by Va’aiga, and the badass quickly drives his own hand into the throat of HVT with a thrust, sending the former champion stumbling backwards.

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga shrugging off another blow from Thugg to deliver that hard shot to the throat. This is going to be a very long night for Thugg if he doesn’t get it together. His normal style of brute strength isn’t gonna work on Va’aiga like it has on so many others…

 

(Riley) – But I think Thugg’s experience will take over soon, and he can ride that alone to the win. Va’aiga’s way to volatile.

 

Va’aiga darts out of the corner as quicky as he can, runs at the staggering HVT, and…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

…drops the big man with a huge Lariat!

 

(Comet) – A HUGE Lariat from the big man out of New Zealand! What a shot…knocking Thugg right off his feet.

 

(Riley) – I think that’s the hardest Thugg has ever been hit in his life.

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga with the cover!!!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – NO! Thugg with the shoulder up at two. You might be right about the experience thing, but you have to remember, Thugg is just as easy to snap as Va’aiga is.

 

Va’aiga gets back to his feet with the crowd buzzing from his lethal Lariat. Thugg starts to get to his feet as well, still recovering from the blow, but Va’aiga gives him no time before grabbing and whipping HVT back to the far left corner. Thugg lands hard, back-first, into the turnbuckle, and not long after, Va’aiga slams into his body, sandwiching him in the corner with a Splash.

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga is starting to pick up momentum here…something we don’t usually see people do against Thugg. Could HVT possibly have met his match?

 

Thugg cringes from the Splash, but Va’aiga stays on him with a hard left hand to the face…

 

…followed by another hard left…

 

…followed by another hard left…

 

 

 

…kiss the fist…

 

 

 

BAM!!

 

 

…and a huge right hook that knocks Thugg down to his rear in the corner!

 

(Comet) – A huge punch combo from Va’aiga, and now he’s starting to pick the 2-time world champion apart! What a huge win this would be for Va’aiga…to beat a Hall of Famer like Thugg…it’d do wonders for his career!

 

(Riley) – There’s one thing I’ve learned over the years of watching Thugg…never, ever count him out until the bell sounds.

 

(Comet) – He’s never met anyone like Va’aiga before though…and you have to admit, you’ve never seen him manhandled like this before. Hell…the fans don’t even know what to think…

 

With the fans really just watching on with awe, Va’aiga raises his huge boot, and then drives it into the sitting Thugg’s chest with a thud. Just as soon as the first boot lands, Va’aiga pulls it up and drives another hard into Thugg’s chest, causing the big man to cringe. In rapid succession, the Maori drives boot after boot into Thugg’s chest, until he finally takes the sole of his boot and presses it against Thugg’s throat, choking him against the ropes.

 

(Riley) – C’mon ref…that’s illegal!

 

 

“Pull it off Va’aiga! Let go!”

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

As referee Hardcastle repeats “five” with authority, Va’aiga releases his choke on Thugg, barely preventing a disqualification. The fans don’t really seem to like Va’aiga’s tactics very much, and they begin to send some heat in his direction. Va’aiga grabs Thugg up by the head and drags him to the center of the ring, where he thrusts the angry black man into a front face lock.

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga could be looking for the Brainbuster here…

 

Va’aiga looks around at the crowd before digging deep and lifting the 386-pound Thugg straight up into the air…

 

(Comet) – Would you look at that…he got him up! What power from the Maori Badass!

 

 

…holds him there for a moment…

 

 

(Riley) – You said it Comet…Wow.

 

 

 

WHAM!!

 

 

…and drives him to the canvas with a Brainbuster!!!

 

(Comet) – What a Brainbuster delivered by Va’aiga…and on Thugg for that matter!

 

(Riley) – I have to give Va’aiga credit. There’s not too many people in this business…on the planet even…that can get Thugg off his feet, let alone, land that kind of high-impact move on him.

 

(Comet) – You’re right…and it’s impress…WAIT!! Va’aiga with the cover!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

(Comet) – THIS COULD BE IT RIGHT HERE!!!

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – NOOOO!! THUGG GETS HIS LEFT SHOULDER UP AT THE LAST SECOND!!

 

The fans cheer half-heartedly as Thugg turns his left shoulder off the mat, and referee Sexton Hardcastle throws up two fingers with authority.

 

(Riley) – That was a close one there for HVT.

 

(Comet) – Absolutely. Va’aiga was only a fraction of a second away from probably the biggest win of his career.

 

Slightly annoyed at the two-count, Va’aiga takes a good hard look at Hardcastle before pulling HVT back up. Once he has Thugg where he wants him, he takes his leg, wraps it between Thugg’s, and then takes his arm and locks in the Abdominal Stretch.

 

(Comet) – Abdominal Stretch submission from Va’aiga here, trying to weaken Thugg so he won’t kick out next time, I’m sure.

 

However, before Hardcastle can even come over to check Thugg’s status, HVT takes his free hand and slams his fist into Va’aiga’s face. A second blow forces Va’aiga to release the hold, and Thugg uses some of his new momentum to push Va’aiga against the near ropes. He then slings Va’aiga to the far ropes, where the Maori bounces off the ropes, rebounds towards Thugg, and runs face first into his huge boot that knocks him to the ground!

 

(Riley) – Big Boot from Thugg and the Maori is down!

 

(Comet) – Thugg, trying to gain some offensive momentum now scoring with a big boot that nearly takes off Va’aiga’s head!

 

After sending Va’aiga to the canvas, Thugg backs up against the right side ropes to recover for a moment, allowing Va’aiga to slowly get back to his feet. Once his adversary is up, HVT moves back to Va’aiga, and delivers a boot to his gut to double him. He then thrusts him into a front face lock, and then using all his strength, he lifts the Maori straight up in the air!

 

(Riley) – Speaking of power and strength…you can’t forget that Thugg is still the strongest person in the fed…and he’s displaying that power right now!

 

HVT holds Va’aiga straight up in the air…

 

(Comet) – What power by Thugg…just holding 300-pounds of Va’aiga up in the air like that!

 

He takes a few steps around the ring to hold Va’aiga up longer, before…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

…falling backwards and dropping Va’aiga with a Suplex!

 

(Comet) – Stalling Suplex from HVT!! What impact!!

 

(Riley) – That Suplex shook the entire ring! I’m telling you Comet, even though Thugg is up against probably his toughest competition ever, he’s still the biggest and strongest man in the fed, and that can take you pretty damn far.

 

(Comet) – Not to mention his experience in big matches…THUGG WITH THE COVER!!!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – Thugg for the win…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – NOOOOO! Va’aiga gets his shoulder up!

 

(Riley) – A close one on both sides now.

 

(Comet) – Yeah…and now we’ve seen these two pretty much exchange big moves and near falls. It’s time for someone to take over…but will it be the beast from New Zealand or the angry black man from DC?

 

HVT gets back to his feet and gives the referee a hard look before turning back to the rising Va’aiga. HVT helps the Maori back to his feet, only to grab his wrist and go for a whip. However, instead of whipping Va’aiga, Thugg turns it, pulls him in, and delivers a very stiff Short Arm Clothesline……NO!! Va’aiga ducks the clothesline and ends up behind Thugg, where he wraps his arms around Thugg’s large waist, lifts up, and drops the big man on his head and neck with a Release German Suplex!!

 

(Comet) – German Suplex from Va’aiga!! He’s taking the momentum back from Thugg!

 

(Riley) – This match has been so back and forth, I’m not sure who has the momentum. And on top of that, I’m not sure these fans know who they should be pulling for here.

 

(Comet) – That’s because no one really likes either of them.

 

(Riley) – Yeah…well…they’re stupid then because we’re watching perfection in the ring right now.

 

Va’aiga gets back to his feet and finds HVT near the far ropes holding the back of his head.

 

 

“C’MON!”

 

 

After shouting at Thugg, he moves in close to the big man, turns him over, and drapes his throat across the middle ropes. Va’aiga then runs back to the near side ropes, bounces off, runs at Thugg, and then drapes his large leg across Thugg’s back, which, in turn, chokes HVT on the middle rope!

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga looking to take full control here with that choke on the middle rope.

 

Va’aiga adjusts the tape on his wrists and moves back to HVT, who lays on his back trying to gasp for air. Va’aiga grabs Thugg up to his feet after giving him a stomp for good measure, and then pushes him against the far ropes, only to whip him across the ring. HVT bounces off the near ropes and returns to a waiting Va’aiga, who lunges forward for a huge Lariat, but Thugg ducks underneath and stands up straight behind Va’aiga. The Maori turns around to find a huge right hand coming from Thugg…but he blocks the blow and delivers a hard right of his own that sends Thugg staggering to the far ropes. HVT bounces off the ropes lightly, but right into the grasp of Va’aiga, who scoops him up for a bodyslam. However, instead of slamming Thugg down normally, the Maori falls to the side and drives HVT’s head right into the canvas with a violent Body Slam Side Piledriver!!

 

(Comet) – SOUTHERN LIGHTS BOMB!! SOUTHERN LIGHTS BOMB ON HVT…BY GAWD WHAT IMPACT! THAT VERY WELL MAY HAVE BROKEN THUGG’S NECK ALL OVER AGAIN!

 

The fans gasp with the impact of Thugg’s head hitting the mat, but only a second later, Va’aiga drops down and covers HVT confidently!

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga with the cover!!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – THAT’S IT! IT’S ALL OVER! WE’VE GOT A NEW KING OF THE BIG MEN!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Riley) – NOOOOO! HE GOT HIS SHOULDER UP! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT…THUGG GOT HIS SHOUDLER UP AT THE ABSOLUTE LAST SECOND!

 

The fans actually start to cheer a little bit as Thugg thrusts his arm in the air, only to have it carry him over so he ends up on his stomach searching for energy or a cure for the pain.

 

(Comet) – I truly thought that Va’aiga had it there.

 

(Riley) – So did I actually…wow. Good resilience from Thugg here…

 

(Comet) – But right now, he is being totally dominated by the young man from New Zealand.

 

Va’aiga steps over Thugg, who is still lying on his stomach, grabs both his arms and places them on his legs as he reaches, grabs under Thugg’s chin, sits down on his back, and pulls up hard.

 

(Comet) – And now he’s got the Camel Clutch locked in on HVT!! What a sight it would be if Thugg was forced to tap out to Va’aiga!

 

(Riley) – Thugg never taps…ask Mak Francis.

 

 

“AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!”

 

 

(Comet) – I thought we weren’t gonna talk about that. You don’t wanna get me started on that again.

 

(Riley) – Yeah…I know…Thugg’s a monster…he’s a beast…blah, blah, blah.

 

 

“Whaddya say Thugg?”

 

“No!”

 

 

(Comet) – What Thugg did to Francis was despicable and inhumane!

 

(Riley) – You’re right, I don’t want to get you started. Forget I ever said anything.

 

Meanwhile, Thugg screams in pain as Va’aiga pulls at his neck, stretching and contorting his back. Referee Hardcastle lays on the canvas beside the two entrenched superstars, checking constantly on Thugg’s status.

 

 

“Ask him!”

 

“Give up Thugg?”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

 

Not willing to give up, Thugg uses all the strength left in his body to force his arms down off of Va’aiga. The Maori, determined not to release the hold, continues to pull at Thugg’s neck, while Thugg gets the fans up off their seats by using his now free hands to push on the ground, essentially doing a push up with Va’aiga on his back!

 

(Riley) – Look at Thugg Comet!! He’s fighting it…he’s not going down without a fight!

 

(Comet) – You’re right Bobby…and he’s showing more of that great strength we were talking about. He’s up on his hands with Va’aiga on his back…that’s about 400 pounds he’s lifting there.

 

With Va’aiga shaking his head vigorously “NO”, Thugg starts to walk on his hands, and after two steps, he lunges forward and grabs a hold of the bottom rope on the far side of the ring!

 

(Comet) – And Thugg gets to the ropes, and now Va’aiga has to break the hold.

 

(Riley) – Doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry to do so.

 

 

“Let it go Va’aiga!”

 

 

But the New Zealander continues to pull at Thugg’s neck, even though the big man is clearly clutching the bottom rope.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

…and Va’aiga finally releases the hold!

 

(Comet) – And finally, Va’aiga releases the Camel Clutch on Thugg, but I think the damage has been done! Va’aiga just needs to finish off what could be the greatest win of his career.

 

Va’aiga, slightly upset that Thugg didn’t tap out, growls at the referee before returning to a resting HVT. However, as he approaches the lower extremities of his adversary, HVT thrusts his leg forward, kicking Va’aiga in the stomach to slow him down. He then gets to his feet as quickly as his weary legs will carry him, just in time for Va’aiga to nail him with a hard right hand and send him back into the far ropes.

 

(Comet) – Thugg trying to grasp for momentum, but Va’aiga nips it in the bud with a hard right.

 

(Riley) – I think part of it is that Thugg doesn’t know how to wrestle against himself…and Va’aiga is so very similar to him that it’s scary.

 

(Comet) – Wow…that’s a pretty well thought out theory Bobby…coming from you, that’s surprising.

 

(Riley) – Thanks…HEY! Wait a second…

 

As Comet chuckles at Riley, Va’aiga grabs Thugg and whips him to the…NO…REVERSED! HVT whips Va’aiga to the near side ropes, and upon his return, Thugg scoops him up quickly, turns around, and slams him viciously to the mat with a Powerslam!!!

 

(Comet) – Thugg with a huge Powerslam!!! He’s persevering and he can feel the momentum shifting in his favor!

 

(Riley) – He’s very…

 

(Comet) – WAIT! THUGG WITH THE COVER…HOOKS THE LEG!!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – THIS COULD BE IT…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Awwwwww!”

 

 

(Comet) – NOOOOOOOOO!! VA’AIGA GETS HIS SHOULDER UP!! THUGG WAS SO CLOSE!

 

(Riley) – Dammit!! C’mon Thugg!

 

Thugg, devastated by Va’aiga’s kickout, rolls off the Maori and lies on the canvas for a moment. Finally, he gets to his feet and staggers over towards the near side of the ring. Meanwhile, Va’aiga gets to his feet, and looks over to find referee Hardcastle checking on Thugg’s status. He charges at the former world champ, looking for a huge lariat…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – WHAT THE…

 

(Riley) – HE HIT THE DAMN REFEREE! DQ! DQ!

 

(Comet) – But Thugg pulled him in the way…HVT pulled the referee in Va’aiga’s way!

 

Sure enough, as Va’aiga approached, HVT pulled referee Hardcastle in the way as he stepped out, and it was Hardcastle that took the Lariat, and the blow sent the referee over the top rope and out of the ring.

 

(Riley) – Now we have a match with no referee…and it’s all Va’aiga’s fault!

 

(Comet) – Are you blind?? Thugg cheated…he pulled the referee in the way.

 

The fans let Thugg know how much they disliked his tactic, but he doesn’t care, because when Va’aiga turns around to face him…

 

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

 

…HE SLAPS ON A ONE HANDED CHOKE HOLD!!

 

(Comet) – AND NOW HE’S GOING FOR THE UNTAMED CHOKESLAM!! HITTING THIS WILL SURELY PUT VA’AIGA DOWN FOR GOOD!

 

However, before HVT can get the choke locked in solidly, Va’aiga takes his right hand and jabs it right into Thugg’s throat, which forces him to release the choke and turn away from Va’aiga. The fans pop a little bit for this, but then HVT turns back around while throwing a huge right haymaker…

 

(Comet) – NO…counter by Va’aiga…he breaks the choke…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…that misses completely!!

 

(Comet) – And Thugg misses with the right hand!

 

Va’aiga ducks the right hand, which causes HVT to go flying past Va’aiga and into the near side ropes. Thugg bounds back up, and is met with…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SMACK!

 

…A ONE HANDED CHOKE FROM VA’AIGA!!

 

(Comet) – AND NOW A ONE-HANDED CHOKE FROM VA’AIGA! THUGG’S IN SERIOUS TROUBLE!

 

(Riley) - He stole that move from Thugg! He can’t use it…

 

Va’aiga spins 180 degrees so that he is facing the center of the ring, but instead of slamming Thugg to the canvas with a spinning Choke Slam, he releases the choke on Thugg in mid-air, catches him, jumps in the air, and slams HVT to the mat as hard as he can with the earth-shattering powerslam know as the Maori Drop!

 

(Comet) – MAORI DROP!!! MAORI DROP! VA’AIGA HITS HVT WITH THAT MAORI DROP VARIATION! WHAT A DEVASTATING MANEIVER!

 

(Riley) – He shook the whole ring with that!

 

Va’aiga, confident in what he has done, hooks Thugg’s leg and makes the cover…

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga with the cover! It’s all over!!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“FOUR?”

 

 

 

“FIVE?”

 

 

(Comet) – SON OF A…THERE’S NO REFEREE! VA’AIGA HAS THIS MATCH WON, BUT THERE’S NO REF TO COUNT IT! HE’S LYING ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE RING!

 

As the fans continue to count, Va’aiga becomes visibly enraged and jumps up from on top of a near dead HVT to find no referee in sight. He looks around angrily for the referee, when he suddenly remembers where he is. The fans make a ton of noise as he slides to the outside on the near side of the ring, and starts to shove Hardcastle with his foot.

 

(Riley) – Hardcastle is out cold Comet!

 

(Comet) – And Va’aiga looks furious!

 

Va’aiga tries a little harder to revive the referee, but after his attempts fail, he storms angrily around the ring to the left side. Near the far left corner, Va’aiga finds the steel chair that the ref had stolen from Thugg earlier in the contest. Meanwhile, in the ring, Thugg is finally coming to, and starting to get to his feet, albeit, rather slowly.

 

(Comet) – Va’aiga’s going for that steel chair!

 

(Riley) – And you’re ok with this?

 

(Comet) – NO! We need a damn referee down here to keep this match in line!

 

Va’aiga grabs the chair and slides into the ring, just as Thugg gets to his feet. The fans are amped to see Thugg get his block knocked off, and Va’aiga obliges them. With Thugg standing near the center of the ring looking like a sitting duck, Va’aiga takes an enormous swing at HVT’s head…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SWOOSH!!

 

…only to miss by a mile!!

 

(Riley) – He missed!! Thugg ducked!! He was baiting him…that’s experience for you!

 

After ducking the steel chair, Thugg steps around Va’aiga, who went lunging off balance. The Maori turns around to face Thugg, but is immediately grabbed up, and thrown back down to the canvas hard with a Bearhug Front Slam!!

 

(Comet) – BEARHUG FRONT SLAM!!

 

(Riley) – YOU KNOW WHAT’S NEXT COMET!!

 

The slam forced Va’aiga to drop the steel chair, and it goes bouncing off to the far right corner of the ring. Thugg stands over Va’aiga and runs his thumb across his throat in a slashing motion, which brings the fans out of their seats.

 

(Comet) – I don’t think he can get him up…not in his state!

 

Thugg grabs Va’aiga up off the canvas, and as weary as he may be, he whips the Maori to the left side ropes. Va’aiga rebounds right into Thugg’s grasp, and HVT digs deep into the bowels of his being to gather up enough strength to push Va’aiga up over his head with a Military Press!

 

(Comet) – HOLY CRAP! THUGG GOT HIM UP…WHAT POWER…WHAT STRENGTH!

 

(Riley) – Shows how much you know!

 

Referee Hardcastle starts to climb back into the ring on the near side of the ring while thousands of flash bulbs flicker as HVT holds Va’aiga up over his head. Then, out of no where…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KA-BAAAAAAAM!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…HE DESTROYS THE MAORI BY DRIVING HIS HEAD TO CANVAS WITH A FRONT PRESS DRIVER!!!

 

(Comet) – LAST STAND!! LAST STAND!! BY GAWD…THUGG JUST DESTROYED VA’AIGA WITH THE LAST STAND! IT’S OVER!!

 

(Riley) – You’re damn right it’s over! Nobody gets up from the Last Stand!

 

After delivering the finishing maneuver, HVT falls backwards onto his back again, totally exhausted from the beating he’d taken and the energy he needed to pull off his finisher. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hardcastle roll himself back into the ring, which is all the incentive he needs to make that one last push to roll himself on top of Va’aiga!

 

(Comet) – THUGG WITH THE COVER!!!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Comet) – THIS COULD BE IT…IT COULD BE ALL OVER RIGHT HERE FOLKS!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING

 

(Comet) – THAT ‘S IT! IT’S OVER! THUGG PICKS UP THE WIN IN PROBABLY HIS BIGGEST CHALLENGE TO DATE!!

 

(Riley) – And who picked him to win?? That’s right…ME!

 

Hardcastle drags himself over to HVT, who has rolled himself off of Va’aiga, and despite both men being on the canvas, Sexton raises HVT’s hand in victory.

 

(Funyon) – LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…YOUR WINNER…H…V…T!!!

 

The fans kind of give a half hearted clap mixed with a ton of boos as HVT starts to push himself to his feet. Once up, he staggers past a dead Va’aiga over to the far ropes and snatches Funyon’s microphone from him…

 

(Comet) – What’s this??

 

(HVT) – YO!

 

BOOOOOO!!

 

(Riley) – A match and a message…today must be my lucky day!

 

(HVT) – IS THAT ALL Y’ALL GOT?!? HUH?!? IS THIS THE BEST YOU CAN SEND AT ME TO BEAT ME! LOOK AT THIS FUCKIN’ BITCH…HE CAN’T SEE ME…NONE OF Y’ALL CAN SEE ME!

 

BOOOOOOO!!!!

 

 

(HVT) - AND ON FEBRUARY FIRST…I’M GONNA TOSS ALL YOU FUCKERS OVER THE TOP AND WIN MY CHANCE AT MY FUCKIN’ TITLE! ENJOY THAT SHIT DANNY…ENJOY IT GOOD…CAUSE I’M COMIN’ TO GET WHAT’S MINE YOU BITCH…I’M COMIN’ TO CLAIM MY FUCKIN’ TITLE! BET ON THAT SHIT! WHEN I’M…

 

 

 

 

 

WHACK!!!

 

 

“ARGH!!!”

 

 

(Comet) – VA’AIGA!!!

 

During his rant, Thugg failed to notice the Maori Badass had popped up and grabbed the steel chair he was forced to discard earlier.

 

(Riley) – Son of a bitch! Va’aiga just drilled HVT with that steel chair! The Maori has snapped, and he’s gonna try to hurt Thugg. Get someone out here!

 

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

A second chair shot takes Thugg down by the near side ropes, and all the fans are left to do is gasp as they watch Va’aiga destroy HVT with a steel chair!

 

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

(Comet) – HELP DAMMIT, HELP! VA’AIGA IS GONNA TOTALLY DESTROY HVT HERE IF SOMEONE DOESN’T COME OUT HERE! THE DAMN MAORI HAS SNAPPED!

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

Va’aiga continues to pound on HVT with the chair several more times before a gang of referees rush out and restrain him. Before leaving, he gives the chair a final throw, and it lands on HVT’s chest as he lies there struggling to breathe.

 

(Comet) – Ladies and gentlemen…what we’ve seen here tonight is…is…well, no words describe it. Thugg barely escapes his biggest challenge in Va’aiga, but the Maori snaps and hands Thugg probably the most vicious beating of his career. What’ll happen next! We’re a mere 2 weeks away from Clusterfuck…what’ll happen on Smarkdown…what’ll happen at the PPV. Hopefully, nothing like we’ve seen tonight. Until next week…

 

 

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