SWF LOCKDOWN 3-30-05!

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3!

 

2!

 

1!

 

 

KABLAMOOOOOOOOO~!!

 

SWF Lockdown (we had the name first Dusty, if you weeeeell), in association with X-Net Wrestling, is on the airwaves! And the crowd in Boise, Idaho are out in force tonight as we are on the road to Battleground, with zero HUGE matches announced~! Sweeping down to ringside, we're greeted by a smiling Longdogger Pete and the smirking (there's a difference, yes) Suicide King at the booth.

 

"Welcome to Lockdown, my little Doggahs!" cheers Pete. "We're live in Potato Country, Boise Idaho, where tonight, we have another huge card lined up. Fourway action in the main event, a #1 Contendership rematch AND, by the end of the night, the ICTV and USJL Championships will officially be unified!"

 

"Pete, Johnny Dangerous and Jay Hawke are both going into their match, knowing this'll be their first...and last defences of those titles. A weird situation to be in there."

 

"Let's not forget too, the winner gets to name the nex, unified title whatever they want."

 

"If they don't name it after Frost, there'll be hell to pay."

 

"Speaking of toupees, what about Tom Flesher on referee duty tonight?"

 

"Are you saying Tom wears a..." King stops and shakes his head. "Nevermind that. Tonight, Tom is donning the stripes, to ensure fairplay. And you have to admi..."

 

 

"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"

 

...WAAAAAHHHHH...

 

*DUM DUM*

 

The post-riff part of "Megalomaniac" by Incubus suddenly hits, to an ERUPTION from the fans and some incoherent grumbling from King. The crowd rise to their feet, as Landon Maddix emerges through the curtains, carrying his bags with him. From the look on his face, it's clear Landon isn't in the best of moods, brushing past outstretched arms as he storms towards the ring.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...LANDON! "LA CUCARACHA!" MAAAADDIIIIXXXXXX!!!"

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Introduction made, Funyon drops his mic and scampers off. Maddix meanwhile dumps his bags into the ring, before gingerly entering the ring, making sure not to mess up his neck as he does so. Pulling himself up, Maddix quickly snatches up the mic and kicks his bags towards the centre of the ring.

 

"Cut the damn music!"

 

...

 

"CUT IT!!"

 

The monkeys in the truck finally cut the music.

 

"Landon Maddix, not in a patient mood tonight." points out Pete.

 

"MAD - DIX! MAD - DIX! MAD - DIX!"

 

Maddix stops for the chants for a moment, before motioning for the fans to quieten down.

 

"There's three reasons why I'm not on the card tonight. Reason one...is Toxxic."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"I really don't need to go into great detail there, because everybody who bought From The Fire knows exactly what that Limey son of a bitch did to me. He dropped me with the Demonstar Driver. Put me in a hospital. Almost broke my neck. I've said all I really need to say on that matter before. But while I'm out here, I guess I should address these claims that I'm 'afraid' of Toxxic. See, the fact is...I'm not afraid of Toxxic. Far from it. If Toxxic wants another match with me, then I'd be more than happy to oblige him. Whever it's a tag team match, six man tag match, anything that doesn't involve that title of yours, then I'll take you on. The World Heavyweight Title is still of no consequence to me. Because quite frankly, when the top contender to your belt is Spike Jenkins, you KNOW you're wearing a piece of glorified tin!"

 

"BUUUUURRRRN!" howls Pete.

 

"Reason number two, Tom Flesher."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Tom Flesher, is a reason why I'm not in action here tonight. You see, I was on schedule to have recovered from my neck injury and be back to near enough 100% right about now. If not for Tom Flesher. 'Mister' Flesher would like you people to think he had his hands tied behind his back, regarding this unification tournament."

 

Sneering, Maddix shakes his head as best he can.

 

"But the underlying fact is, Tom Flesher had no second thoughts about screwing me around and putting me in a match before I was medically cleared to return. He KNEW that I wouldn't forfeit the ICTV Championship belt. He KNEW that I'd swallow my pride and step into that ring last Friday night. And deep down, he was hoping that I'd get dropped on my head and have my career ended on Storm. After all, that would have been one less problem for him to deal with each week. Fact is Tom, you're never going to get rid of me...the way I got rid of you."

 

"BUUUUURRRRN!" howls Pete...again.

 

"And reason number three...Johnny...Dangerous."

 

The crowd give a much more mixed reaction to Dangerous, which takes Maddix aback for a moment.

 

"Johnny, I know that you'll claim it was 'strictly business', what happened on Friday night. Of course, most claims are pure bullsh*t nowadays."

 

Another mixed reaction from the crowd forces Maddix to pause again.

 

"Revenge must have been SOOOOO sweet for you Dangerous, mustn't it. To have wiped the memory of Ground Zero last year out of your mind. To get back the ICTV Championship from me. It's just a shame it took seven or eight months to do it, huh? But, you got your revenge. You ended my one hundred and thirty eight day ICTV Championship title reign, three days short of being the longest reigning champion, of any sort, ever in the SWF. End of an era. Johnny, remember this tonight...you beat a near crippled man to win that championship. At 100%, I defended that championship proudly and honourably. It was only when I was physically uncapable that I let that belt slip from my clutches."

 

Pausing again, Maddix looks down into his empty left hand, sighing noticeably before he looks back up, into the camera pointed at him.

 

"So, this goes to you...and, to Jay Hawke. It doesn't matter which one of you wins the unification match tonight. Whoever it is...Hawke or Dangerous...you'd damn well better Prepare For Landon, because rest assured, I'm gonna be coming for that belt. And revenge of my own. And to the winner...it really doesn't matter WHAT you name that unified championship, because for all intents and purposes, that belt should be called "The Landon Maddix Championship"...because...it's...MINE!!"

 

"Let me guess...'BUUUURRRRN'?"

 

"Damn right King."

 

As the crowd murmur amongst themselves, Maddix lowers the microphone. He then turns, dropping to one knee and undoing one of his bags. A few moments later, he re-emerges, clutching his wrestling boots in his hand...dropping them to the mat at his feet.

 

"These...are my boots."

 

"Well, duh." sneers King.

 

"Seeing as I'm not on the card tonight, I don't need them. Now, Tom...I'm not retiring, don't go worrying yourself buddy. The reason they're being put here, is because I'm not gonna watch the rest of the show backstage. I came here tonight to say this. And nothing more. So right now, I'm going back to my hotel. And then, I'm going out to whatever bar or nightclub I can find...and I'm going to get as drunk as I possibly can."

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!"

 

"As for the boots? It's called symbolism. These boots...represent me. Tonight, the presence of Landon Maddix is going to hang over this ring from opening bell to closing bell. They represent the fact that there's not a DAMN person in that locker room who can follow and out-perform ME! So whever it's Luchador, Dangerous, Sly, Toxxic, Wildchild...it doesn't matter. While you're in this ring, these people are going to be remember one thing and one thing only. And that's Landon Maddix."

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!"

 

Hearing the cheers, Maddix smiles a little.

 

"And when this show is over, these people aren't going to give a crap about who won the main event, or who unified the ICTV and USJL Titles...or who the number one contender is. They're going to remember that because of YOU Toxxic, YOU Flesher and YOU Dangerous...they got cheated out of seeing Landon Maddix wrestle."

 

Picking up his other bags, Maddix heaves one over his shoulder (doing his neck no favours in the process), before turning back towards the entrance way.

 

"Good luck following that guys."

 

And with that, Maddix tosses away the microphone and begins to leave the ring. The crowd cheer, although some look pretty confused over how to react. Maddix meanwhile climbs down the steps, walking over to the guard rail and calling over one of the security guards. Words are exchanged, before the security guard opens up a section of the guardrail, allowing Maddix to walk through and begin to leave through the crowd.

 

"Uhm...anyway..."

 

"He's really leaving?" asks King, confused. "That's grounds for a hefty fine if ever I saw one."

 

"Well folks, we are going to try and 'follow that'...as up next, we have a debutant by the name of JJ Johnson in action. Once...once we get Landon's boots out of the ring, that is."

 

The Lockdown logo appears in the screen, ready to go to commercial...as the camera focuses on the ring.

 

 

 

Empty, except for two black boots.

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

 

SWF LOCKDOWN, March 30, 2005, LIVE FROM THE IDAHO CENTER IN BOISE, IDAHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.)

 

From the state of potatoes and... uh... potatoes... Lockdown is LIVE! Tonight's show has everything you could want - we've got a newbie, we've got a mystery man, we've got a number one contender's match, and we've got... uh...

 

... potatoes?

 

-=-=-=-

 

The Main Event

Fatal Fourway Match

 

Wildchild vs. "The Urban Legend" Todd Cortez vs. "The Critic" Scott Pretzler vs. Toxxic

 

We've got Wildchild, who can't be pleased with the way his match with Toxxic ended last week, and damn sure won't take what happened after the match sitting down. We've got Todd Cortez, no stranger to Revolution Zero, fighting to get back a small measure of revenge and respect for Martial Law. We've got Scott Pretzler, who's been winning way too much when not nursing injuries, not to mention getting all up in Dub-Cee's grill. And we've got Toxxic, the World Heavyweight Champion.

 

This all sounds like the perfect setup for a tag match...

 

... but like my pappy always said, "Never book a tag team match when you can make it a Fatal Fourway instead". He was full of wisdom, my pappy.

 

So tonight, there are no teams - it's every man for himself. Will Revolution Zero loyalty shine through, even if Pretzler and Toxxic end up in the ring together? Will Wildchild be able to redeem himself against Toxxic, and exact some revenge on "The Critic"? Will Todd Cortez be able to win back some stable pride, and gain some esteem in the eyes of management at the same time? Only one way to find out!

 

Rules: Two men in the ring at any given time. If they can't take the heat, they can tag either of the two men waiting on the outside. Once someone is tagged in, there must be physical contact between the two legal men before they can tag back out. First to score a pinfall or submission wins.

 

-=-=-=-

 

SWF Belt Tournament - Championship Match

Johnny Dangerous vs. Jay Hawke

 

This is it - the finals of the SWF Belt Tournament, unifying the ICTV and USJL Championships. Both men have fought tooth and nail to get this far, and now they've come to the final match. Who will be the one to kick off this glorious new chapter in the SWF, and go down in history as the first SWF Belt* Champion?

 

Rules: Standard singles match. *The winner gets to name the title whatever he damn well pleases.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Magical Mystery Match

Austin Sly vs. ???

 

Austin Sly suffered a disappointing setback on Storm, losing his USJL Title and spot in the SWF Title Tournament to Jay Hawke. He is not happy, to say the least, and tonight he's out for blood. But against who?

 

Hell if I know. I think Tom mail-ordered this ??? from a catalogue, so all we really know is his product number (XG-1497) and his price ($119.95). Is it a newbie? Is it a returning veteran? Or is it something else entirely? (G0R0!!1!1!!1!!!1!)

 

Rules: Standard singles match. But, uh, it's a mysterious singles match. Yeah, that's it...

 

-=-=-=-

 

Non-Title Match

Insane Luchadore vs. Mohammed Koran

 

As hardcore as IL may be, we decided that after a match involving great heights and sharp pointy things, he could use a break. So tonight, the crazy cruiser will go straight up against Mohammed Koran, who's been in a bit of a slump. Although this is non-title, a win against the current Hardcore Champ would do wonders for Koran's career...

 

Rules: Filthy American Singles Match!

 

-=-=-=-

 

Opening Bout

JJ Johnson vs. Ced Ordonez

 

Opening the show, we've got JJ Johnson, a man who speaks softly (or not at all) and carries a moderately sized stick which you can't even try to dodge because he's way too fast for you, making his SWF debut against former Bemani Cross Wizard, Ced Ordonez!

Rules: DANCEOFF!... well, not really. Just a singles match.

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The camera cuts to the announce table where Suicide King and Longdogger Pete sit, ready to call the next match. But first, they’re going to tell you what it is! Boy, we don’t pay these guys enough, do we?

 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, to kick off the show we have the Bemani Cross Wizard, Ced Ordonez taking on JJ Johnson in Johnson’s in-ring debut” With that statement, Pete begins counting under his breath the time until King makes himself look rather foolish by talking about something he doesn’t know anything about.

 

“One, two, three, four, fi-“

 

“I like this Johnson kid,” says the Suicidal one. “He has spunk.”

 

“Bingo,” LDP says under his breath before continuing. “How can you like Johnson when you’ve never even seen him? And how can a person who doesn’t talk have “spunk”?”

“Hey, I have too seen him!” stammers King. “When?” Longdogger Pete asks.

 

"Night of Fire!"

 

“Say, here comes the first competitor!” King is quick to point out, as he often is when he has talked himself into a corner. “Let’s get started!” LDP just rolls his eyes as the two turn to their monitors to watch later the match, but for now the entrances.

 

The lights go out as the beat of the Niko composed theme, Night of Fire, begins to excite the crowd. Then....

 

"FIRE!"

 

*BOOM!*

 

Pillars of flames briefly light up the entrance before disappearing and revealing Ced Ordonez standing on the stage.

 

Funyon: On his way to the ring from Sacramento, California, weighing in at 209 pounds, he is the Bemani Cross Wizard, Ced ORDONEZ!

 

He fires up the crowd as best as he can before jogging towards the ring. He slides in and promptly makes his way to the far turnbuckle, giving the crowd an obligatory face pose. He hops down and gets in some quick leg stretches as a raven’s cry echoes throughout the arena and the lights start flashing red and white, signaling the beginning of the song “End of Everything” by Stereomud-and the entrance of the SWF’s newest competitor. Sparks begin to come from both the roof (red sparks) and the floor (white sparks), masking a hooded figure’s entrance into the Idaho Center. As the crowd boos, the aforementioned hooded figure, clad in a red and white version of Christopher Daniels’ old ring attire, walks through the sparks and onto the ramp, his arms out to his sides a la Raven, his face hidden by the hood.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 219 pounds, JJ Johnson!

 

Johnson reaches the ring steps, and in a dramatic flourish, throws his hood back, the light reflecting off of his shiny black hair, a scar visible both over his left eyebrow and on his throat. Johnson then walks up the steps and steps through the ropes and into the ring, where he completely ignores his opponent, choosing instead to climb to the second rope and do a second Raven pose. He then climbs down from the ropes and takes his robe off, handing it to the lackey that does all that stuff, and gets in a fighting position, never taking his eyes off of his opponent.

 

“Well, this guy certainly looks ready to fight” remarks LDP, as King makes a comment under his breath regarding his appreciation for the efforts of one “Captain Obvious”, “but lets see if he’s more than looks.”

”Are you nuts, Pete?,” King says, looking at his partner with an incredulous look on his face, “The guy is a former UFC Heavyweight Champion. He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” LDP comments as the bell rings, starting off the first match of the night.

 

DING DING DING!

 

Ordonez and Johnson start the match off slowly, circling each other, neither man taking their eyes off of each other, which would be creepy if they weren’t professional athletes. The Bemani Cross Wizard makes the first move, going for a clothesline, but Johnson dodges it easily. However, Ced swings back with a roundhouse kick that catches the rookie full in the face, taking him down to the mat. Well, it would’ve, if Johnson hadn’t ducked.

 

“Tremendous speed from the newcomer here!” says Longdogger Pete. “That’ll definitely play a big part of this match!”

“Yeah, and I suppose Johnson’s size advantage is just a cute little accessory?,” says King, a sneer on his face, as if disgusted by this BLATANT avoidance of that fact.

“I was getting to that” says LDP, shaking his head.

 

Johnson takes advantage of Ordonez being off balance, a result of that missed roundhouse, by running up behind the Wizard and grabbing him around the waist, then executing a German suplex, the force of which landing Ordonez on his stomach! The crowd pops at the move, then remember they hate Johnson and start up that chant you hear every time La Resistance is in the ring.

 

“U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!”

 

However, the chants fail to distract Johnson as he locks in a front facelock on Ordonez, essentially controlling neutralizing Ced’s ability to move. Ordonez starts to fight out, prompting Johnson to clamp the hold on tighter, which prompts Ordonez to fight back more, which prompts…well, you get the idea. The USA chants continue, growing louder with every passing second, as Ordonez continues to fight against the young Canadian’s powerful grip, eventually making it to his feet. Johnson attempts to drop the Bemani Cross Wizard back to his belly, but Ced shoves him off into the ropes. As Johnson comes on the rebound, Ced plants his left foot, swings with his right and…

 

THWACK.

 

The sound of boot on chin causes the crowd to pop for Ordonez as a roundhouse sends the rookie crashing to the mat.

 

“What a kick! I wouldn’t be surprised if that ended the match!” LDP screams. “I would,” replies the much calmer King, setting aside his PSP to actually pay attention to the match. “After all, it’s just a kick.”

 

 

Ced slaps his elbow, causing the fans to cheer as he bounces off the ropes, then drops down a la The Rock or Austin Aries, and…

 

DOESN’T hit the Powerdrive Elbow, his arm bouncing off the place where Johnson’s chest had only recently been. Johnson takes advantage of this to grab the arm in question and lock in a Fujiwara armbar, causing the BCW’s face to contort with pain as he struggles against Johnson’s attempt to hyperextend his elbow. The crowd starts chanting for Ordonez in an attempt to help the aforementioned Ordonez fight the pain, the yells echoing throughout the arena.

 

“B-C-W! B-C-W!”

 

“Here we go, Ce-ed, here we go!” clap clap

 

And, from a foolish little boy in the ninth row who doesn’t understand that you don’t cheer for the bad guy…

 

“Johnson rules!”

 

The fans quickly silence the troublesome tyke as Ordonez manages to drag himself and Johnson to the ropes to break the hold. Johnson releases the hold, then takes a few steps back and crouches, waiting for Ced to make his way to his feet. As Ordonez does just that, Johnson sprints and throws his boot up, looking to connect with a Yakuza kick!

 

CHING!

 

“Ouch,” King says, “that can’t feel good.”

 

Indeed it can’t, for as Johnson went for the devastating maneuver, the veteran Ordonez saw him coming and ducked, causing Johnson to crotch himself on the ropes. Ordonez takes advantage of this moment by jumping and hitting an enziguiri, his boot making a sick thwack as it bounces off the back of his opponent’s head, causing the Ontario native to collapse to the mat. Ordonez then climbs to the top rope and, after taunting for the crowd, jumps, coming down on Johnson’s stomach with his patented Double Stomp, then grabs Johnson’s leg as the crowd cheers, having a pretty good idea of what is about to occur.

 

“Cross Lightning! Ced has the Cross Lightning locked in! Will Johnson tap?!”

‘Calm down, King. Since when are you so excited?”

“Since Johnson started losing!”

 

Ordonez clamps down on the reverse figure-four, but Johnson’s ring awareness is too great, and he grabs the ropes, causing a 5 count to be started by the ref and a jeer to rise up from the crowd, apart from that one kid, but he’s learned to keep his mouth shut. However, Ordonez isn’t done yet, as he drags Johnson to the middle of the ring and locks it in again! Johnson yells as the hold puts a terrible strain on his legs and as he struggles, attempting to roll over and put the pressure on Ordonez. Both Johnson and Ordonez are fighting the pressure from the other, one attempting to stop the pain, one attempting to avoid it. Ordonez puts up a valiant effort, but Johnson manages to roll the veteran over, essentially locking in the hold on Ordonez. Ced wisely releases the hold, but is caught by surprise as Johnson grabs his leg and begins to twist his foot.

 

“This move won him plenty of fights in UFC! Let’s see how it works here in the SWF!”

“Ordonez is gonna tap Pete, I can feel it!”

 

Ordonez screams as intense pain shoots up his leg, the heel hook beginning to take its toll, lifting himself on his arms and attempting to crawl to the ropes. The crowd starts another USA chant as Ordonez slowly inches his way across the ring, Johnson trying his hardest to keep Ordonez from breaking the hold, both knowing that the Wizard will be forced to submit if the hold is locked in much longer. Ordonez keeps inching, getting closer…

 

And closer…

 

And closer…

 

And closer…

 

Until…

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

 

Ordonez makes it! Johnson is forced to release the hold, much to both his and King’s dismay. Ordonez springs up and charges at Johnson, adrenaline taking over the pain suppression duties as he hits Johnson with a HUUUGGGEE whirling headscissors, sending the new guy over the top rope! However, Johnson merely “skins the cat”, pulling himself into the ring a la HBK or Chris Jericho, and turns around to come face to face with…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANOTHER HEADSCISSORS, THIS ONE SUCCEEDING IN IT’S PURPOSE OF SENDING SOMEONE OUT OF THE RING!

 

However, a groan goes up from the fans, as Johnson simply dropped to his back, throwing off Ordonez momentum and sending him over the top rope and to the outside. Johnson then grabs the ropes and springboards to the top, then, as both the crowd and his opponent watch in awe, sails gracefully through the air with a Shooting Star Press, crashing down on Ordonez from 12 feet in the air!

 

“What a Shooting Star by Johnson, King! This could turn the tide of the match back in Johnson’s favor!”

“What? The match was out of Johnson’s favor at some point?”

“Whatever, King. Whatever.”

 

The move took a lot out of both men, and they lay on the outside as the ref begins his count.

 

1!

 

 

2!

 

 

3!

 

Johnson is the first to stir, rolling over onto his stomach, Ordonez following soon after with a half-hearted attempt to sit up as the crowd chants his name.

 

“OR-DON-EZ!”

 

4!

 

“OR-DON-EZ!”

 

“OR-DON-EZ!”

 

5!

 

Johnson rolls back onto his back, and in a surprising move, kips up!

 

“Whoa! An athletic move from JJ Johnson!”

 

“Yeah, who’da thunk it, Pete? Sheesh. Moron.”

 

6!

 

Johnson then walks over to his prone opponent and grabs his legs, then slingshots him into the ring, breaking the ref’s count. He then climbs to the ring apron, and as Ordonez staggers up to his feet, Johnson springs to the top rope, looking for the Springboard Fame-ass-er and…

 

 

NOT connecting, as Ordonez stands up straight, causing Johnson to crash to the mat, landing right on his tailbone.

 

 

 

 

At least, that’s what the fans visualized. In reality, Johnson simply extended his leg, placing it on Ced’s shoulder, then doing the same with his other leg and whipping his body around, the hurricanrana taking the Bemani Cross Wizard off his feet!

 

“Wow! Did you see that, LDP?!?”

“I sure did, King! Ordonez thought he was safe, but Johnson used that speed and agility to change into a hurricanrana at the last second! Let’s see how Johnson follows up on this!”

 

Johnson follows up on that by walking at the now-standing Ordonez, who thrusts a kick at Johnson’s stomach, which the Canadian catches easily, then throws away. However, Ordonez continues his momentum, coming back around and…

 

THWACK!

 

…sending his boot into the face of Johnson for the second time in the match, this time via the Dragon Whip! Ordonez, capitalizing on this, then runs to the ropes, runs back and

 

 

WHAM!

 

Comes crashing down on Johnson with a Powerdrive elbow!

 

“Powerdrive Elbow by Ced Ordonez! This match has gotta be over!”

“Don’t count this kid out yet, Dogga!”

“Speaking of counts, Ordonez with the cover!”

 

1!

 

 

 

 

2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRAWWWWWW, SHUCKS! THAT CLOSE, TOO!

Johnson lifts his shoulder up off the canvas, causing disappointment for Ordonez and boos from the crowd!

 

Ordonez, however, doesn’t let the disappointment sink in as he jumps to the top rope and waits for Johnson to rise to his feet. Johnson does, with his back to Ordonez, steadying himself before turning around and catching a MISSILE DROPKICK TO THE FACE!!

 

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

 

The crowd goes NUTS as Ordonez scrambles across the ring and dives on top of Johnson for the cover!

 

 

 

1!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

“Night of Fire” plays as the crowd goes wild and Ordonez climbs to the second rope to celebrate! The referee makes his way over to raise Ced’s hand, but on the way over there, notices something VERY, VERY important.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After making sure of the fact, the referee walks over and whispers something to Funyon. Funyon nods and raises the mic to his mouth and makes a very upsetting (to the Ordonez fans) announcement.

 

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen the referee has just informed me that JJ Johnson had his foot on the bottom ropes. Therefore, this match WILL CONTINUE!”

 

Ordonez wastes no time getting back on Johnson, leaping off the second rope and nailing an elbow drop, then picks him up and whips him to the ropes. As Johnson returns, Ordonez lifts him up onto his shoulders, then runs forwards and flips, driving Johnson into the mat with the Regal Roll! Ordonez makes a second cover!

 

 

1!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No!!!! Johnson gets the shoulder up again! Shaking his head in frustration, Ordonez again lifts Johnson, then immediately takes him down again with a drop toehold, slamming Johnson’s face into the mat! Ordonez repeats the maneuver, lifting Johnson once again, and once again taking him down with a drop toehold. Ced then leaps into the air and comes down with a double knee drop, an impressive maneuver----had Johnson not moved. As Ordonez favors his knees, Johnson secures a front facelock, then lifts up Ordonez and nearly takes him out of his boots with a vicious snap suplex! Ordonez holds his back and shouts, but receives no mercy from Johnson, who repeats the maneuver, then runs to the ropes, leaping to the top rope and springing off, hitting Ordonez with a picture perfect Lionsault!

 

 

1!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

The crowd explodes as Ced kicks out, causing Johnson to simply stand up, walk to the turnbuckles, and sit on the top with his head in his hands, to concentrate. However, he should have been paying attention, and Ordonez capitalizes with a hurricanrana that sends Johnson from his perch on the top rope to the mat! Ordonez then climbs to the top rope and calls for his jaw-dropping finisher.

 

“Ordonez is calling for it, King! Will he hit it!”

“Well gee, Pete, let me grab my crystal ball! No! He’s not going to hit that move! Johnson’s too fast!”

 

As soon as King says that, Ordonez leaps off the top, looking to nail his corkscrew Swanton, the Fire Soul, and secure the match.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BANG!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bang, the sound of Ced attempting to save his back by putting some additional spin, but causing his knee to come crashing to the canvas, causes a negative crowd reaction, as King’s prediction proved to be accurate, Johnson rolling out of the way just in time. Johnson rises to one knee and, seeing that his opponent is favoring his leg, sprints to his opponent, and, in one smooth motion, interlocks his legs with Ced’s, rolls him over, and locks in a heel hook/reverse Sharpshooter!

 

 

“What a submission maneuver! Johnson has it locked in perfectly, and Ordonez is so far from the ropes!”

“He’s gonna tap, Pete, I can tell! Definite submission!”

 

Ordonez fights the pain, once again attempting to crawl to the ropes despite the torturous hold, known as the Frostbite, sending shockwaves of pain down his leg and spine. Ordonez pulls his way over to the ropes, but just before he can grab them, Johnson pulls him back into the middle of the ring and drops to his knees, his left knee helping apply more torque to Ordonez spine. Ordonez screams, attempting to fight off the pain as he makes one last effort for the ropes.

 

“OR-DON-EZ! OR-DON-EZ!”

 

“U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!”

 

“JOHNSON RULES! JOHNSON RULES! JOHNSON RU-BLAM!”

 

Timothy Willemain

1-6-01 to 3-30-05

“We will miss him”

 

As the various chants, yells and gunshots ring throughout the arena, Ordonez pulls his way to the ropes, still screaming in agony. The crowd reaches earsplitting levels, as do Ordonez’ screams, as he reaches for the ropes and…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Johnson pulls him back into the middle of the ring and drops again to his knees, producing even more torque on Ced’s back, as well as applying even more strength towards breaking Ced’s ankle. Ordonez makes one final effort towards the ropes, but then, four sounds are heard.

 

 

 

POP!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!!

 

DING DING DING!

 

Johnson releases the hold on the defeated Ordonez, his opponent still screaming and clutching at his possibly broken ankle as the raven’s cries ring out, “End of Everything” playing over the PA system as Johnson climbs to the second rope and does the familiar Raven pose to both a chorus of boos and a Funyon announcement.

 

Funyon: Here is your winner via submission, JJ JOHNSON!

 

After taunting, Johnson steps through the ropes and heads up the ramp, trying his hardest to not let the people, the people that hate him so, touch him.

 

“Man! That submission hold is murder on your opponent’s back, not to mention your legs!”

“You’ve got that right, Pete! But you know what I liked about it?”

“What’s that, King?”

“He REFUSED TO LET GO. He locked in that hold, and didn’t release it until Ordonez tapped. That pitbull like attitude will help him go far. That’s my prediction.”

“Well, that may prove accurate. Only time will tell. Anyway folks, coming up next we have the Hardcore Champion, Insane Luchador, taking on Mohammed Koran in a non-title matchup. That’s right when we come back from this break!”

 

 

 

GOES TO COMMERCIAL

[Ace309 0]

Muhammed Koran appears on The Titantron flanked by his manager Haram Nazeer.

Koran – I am here tonight for a few reasons firstly I would like to introduce my manager The Prince Haram Nazeer. (Nazeer grins cockily out on the crowd). Also I’m here to inform you that my bad patch here in The SWF is over, I will beat Insane Luchador here tonight and I WILL NOT LOOSE AGAIN HERE IN THE SWF!!! Finally I’ve got a message to Arch Griffon, you got lucky getting one-up on me like that. But you won’t get lucky again so I’m challenging you to a Match of Your Choice at The Next PPV, and this time I’ll be ready, and you WONT STAND A CHANCE GRIFFON!!! As for Luchador I’ll see you in the ring

Leaves

[Ace309 0]

The Idaho Center in Boise, Idaho is jam packed and rowdy as SWF’s Lockdown returns.

 

“Welcome back, we just witnessed a battle with JJ Johnson taking on Ced Ordonez. But things are just heating here in Boise, Idaho!” LDP recaps then gets the cheap name.

 

“Right, in the most creative arena yet- the Idaho Center… in Idaho,” King taunts.

 

“Well what did you expect it to be called?” LDP asks.

 

“I don’t know… the Potato Palace or something?” King says with a shrug.

 

LDP sighs and then says, “It doesn’t matter because this is Lockdown and tonight we have an epic main event- a fatal four way. Todd Cortez, Toxxic, Wildchild, and Scott Pretzler are going to clash in that very ring.”

 

“We also get the see the tournament finals where Jay Hawke can school Dangerous,” King points out.

 

“I don’t know, King, Johnny’s performance on Storm really earned him that shot. We’ll also see a Pure Wrestling match between Mak Francis and Spike Jenkins with Tom Flesher as the guest referee!” LDP shrills.

 

“Then we get to see the mystery man face off against Sly… which is usually a train wreck,” King says.

 

“But enough about the future, let’s focus on the present,” LDP says.

 

“Right… Insane Luchador still sucks,” King replies.

 

“Well I differ from your opinion, your Majesty; please don’t put me into the guillotine. Insane Luchador’s HGC reign continues and he’s the ideal champion!” LDP sarcastically says then defends.

 

“I’ll spare you, this time,” King says.

 

“But facing off against the Hardcore Gamers’ Champion is none other than Mohammed Koran!”

 

“If he had an energy bar… would it claim it’s fueled with Allah?” King asks.

 

LDP ignores his partner. “This man may seem to be in a slump, receiving a Muscle Buster by Manson for the lost, but he definitely has potential. Plus the loathing of America seeps a bit into every match so if he could channel that he’d be a beast!” LDP explains. “But this a chance for Mohammed Koran to prove himself even though it’s non-title, getting his win could brighten his future!”

 

“This match is scheduled for one fall…”

 

“We might as well substitute Luchador for Cardboard Comet, maybe we could milk some more entertainment,” King says.

 

“Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains begins and the fans pour out their hearts for Insane Luchador’s arrival. An explosive of black and red pyrotechnics goes off and the Hardcore Gamers’ Champion, Andrew Rickmen, steps out onto the entrance ramp. Rickmen walks down with the HGC belt slung over his black t-shirt clad shoulder. He pauses and throws up both arms into the air which is the catalyst for more cheers.

 

“Introducing first… from Easton, Pennsylvania- weighing in at 201 pounds… YOUR HGC CHAMPION- THE IIINNNNSSSAAANNNEEE LLLUUCCCHHHAADDOR!” Funyon’s deep voice echoes.

 

Insane Luchador picks up the pace to a jog, slapping any outstretched hands and he stops at ringside. He’s dressed in his unusual wrestling attire of khaki cargo pants, beaten up black Emerica skate shoes, and the wild spiked hair. He then hands his precious belt to an SWF employee then leaps onto the apron, vaulting over the ropes and into the ring.

 

“That’s about the extent of his flying skills,” King says.

 

He walks to the center of the ring and rolls his shoulder back then throws a few practice punches.

 

“Rickmen looks focused for this match up,” LDP notes.

 

A foreign, Indian music fills the Idaho Center and the venomous jeers kick up. The 6’4” Tigris Express, Mohammed Koran, steps into the exposure of the crowd. The jeers pick up and behind him steps out a new face.

 

“Huh, who’s that?” LDP asks to a shrug from King.

 

Mohammed Koran looks around at the crowd as if they were pure filth, a look of disgust on his face. The Arabian man standing behind him shakes his head in disapproval towards the crowd.

 

“Introducing… from Washington, D.C. weighing in at 246 pounds… accompanied by Haram Nazeer- MOOHAAAAMMMEEDD KKKOORRAAAAN!”

 

Mohammed spits onto the entrance stage, as more jeers pour in, and begins his walk down to the ring. His new manager, Haram Nazeer, is a few strides behind and speaks encouraging words to his client. Koran is dressed in the classic black wrestling boots, black knee supporters, an elbow pad on his right elbow, and black tights with “Tigris Express” scrawled on the back.

 

“Well maybe it’s the right decision for a manager for Haram, help him channel that anger for the match,” LDP reasons.

 

Koran stares up into the ring at his opponent as he hits ringside, climbing onto the ring apron. With a final good luck pat Haram walks over to the side of the ring. Inside the ring the Insane Luchador looks impatient while Koran takes his time entering from the middle ropes. He scales onto the middle turnbuckle and spreads his arms in a cross just to get a whole new wave of boos. He hops down to the canvas and turns around, walking right up into Luchador’s face.

 

“He just confidently walked right into Luchador’s face for a confrontation, that’s some confidence and courage,” LDP says.

 

“Since when is confronting Luchador an intimidating task?” King counters.

 

Mohammed spews out his threats towards the Insane Luchador who just has a smirk on his face. He shoves Koran back and Matthew Kivell steps in between the two to maintain order.

 

“Trash talk and shoving? What is this, a Junior High fight?” King asks.

 

The official quickly recites the rules and steps back, signaling for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Mohammed Koran reaches out in a grapple but the Insane Luchador surprises him with a kick to the chest! He stumbles back and IL continues his aggressive attack with a wicked knife-edged chop. The smack echoes throughout the Idaho Center and Koran wheezes for air and is helpless as Luchador nails a left handed jab. He quickly smacks Mohammed with a hard right hook and another left jab. He finishes the assault by spinning and smacking Koran down to the canvas with a spinning backfist! But the Tigris Express gets right back up; only to be shoulder barged back down to the canvas. Nazeer slaps the mat and yells advice to the rookie as he rolls right back to his feet. Insane Luchador charges and takes him down with another shoulder barge with a laugh. He stands up and for the third time Koran finds himself back on his feet with the Luchador pressing on the offense. He goes for another shoulder barge but Mohammed drops down to the canvas and trips Luchador down to his feet with a drop toehold. He quickly scrambles towards Luchador’s head but instead settles for clutching one arm. He twists it and gets to one knee as Luchador is caught in the arm wrench. Koran stands up and yanks his opponent’s arm, getting him to his feet.

 

“Koran’s got that arm wrench locked on efficiently,” LDP says.

 

“This is what the Insane Luchador gets sloppy, he’s not good enough to afford that type of confidence,” King says.

 

Luchador is bent over from the submission and Koran just continues to crank at his opponent’s arm. The Insane Luchador swoops down and hits the canvas with a roll and pivots his body while on the canvas, using his momentum and cruiserweight skills to do a one-handed hand-spring up onto his feet. Mohammed panics and uses both hands to follow the move but instead gets overpowered as the Luchador is able to twist his opponent’s arm into an arm wrench!

 

“An impressive reversal to turn the tables on Koran,” LDP complements.

 

“…My God, has IL actually been, you know, learning how to wrestle?” King asks in a taunting disbelief.

 

But Luchador quickly lets go of the arm wrench shoves Koran before taking a few steps forward and smacking his opponent right in the face with a huge knee strike! The Prince on the outside is screaming in frustration as the Insane Luchador hooks the leg.

 

“Could be a quick ending,” LDP predicts.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO! But Mohammed gets the shoulder up. Luchador rests momentarily on both knees then stands up while Koran rolls up to his feet. He charges the Insane Luchador who jumps into the air for the leap frog which causes Mohammed to swoop underneath Luchador.

 

“Leap frog keeps Luchador safe,” LDP says.

 

The HGC Champion lands on the mat and turns around, only to get rocked by Koran’s European uppercut!

 

“Or not,” LDP follows up.

 

“See Mohammed knows how the basics work, when somebody’s back is turned and you see a chance, you take it.”

 

“How come he didn’t try to hit him from the back?” LDP asks.

 

“You know, that’d be the prime chance to make a Big Bubba joke,” King snickers.

 

Insane Luchador tries to throw a straight jab but Koran counters the blow, grabbing the arm and hitting an arm drag. Mohammed rolls to his feet then spits on the canvas as his manager cheers on, contrary to the fans’ wild booing. Insane Luchador is quick to get back to his feet and charges forwards while Koran yells at the crowd. He quickly knocks his opponent down with a clothesline.

 

“See what happens when you soil our canvas?” King jokes.

 

But Mohammed Koran bounces right back onto his feet from the canvas. The two competitors collide in a classic grapple but the Insane Luchador ducks underneath his opponent’s arms and he's able to get behind him. He locks his arms around Koran with the waistlock. He begins to draw back for the prelude to a German suplex but instead gets nailed with an elbow. The strikes continue as Luchador’s head takes more and more punishment. After the fourth consecutive strike his hold becomes weak and Mohammed breaks free. He immediately gets behind the Insane Luchador and scoops his back up, going for the backdrop suplex. But as he begins the fall the Insane Luchador flips backwards and lands onto his feet behind his opponent. He wastes no time in securing the waistlock then gets to face the center of the ring behind him- snapping down and throwing Koran over with a German suplex! He doesn’t release the hold and as his opponent crunches like an accordion he goes for the bridge.

 

“Another cover by the Insane Luchador!” LDP cries.

 

ONE!

 

“He’s going to fall to a German suplex? Haram, Haram, Haram…” King taunts.

 

 

 

 

TWO! But again Koran breaks free from the pin and flops over, grabbing his head and neck. Luchador rolls onto his feet then patiently waits for Koran to get up.

 

“Both competitors are taking his exhibition match very seriously- Koran wants to prove he’s the break out star while Insane Luchador wants to prove he’s more than a worthy Champion,” LDP analyzes.

 

“Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re supposed to win,” King cuts to the chase.

 

“That too.”

 

Haram Nazeer calls for his client to come over and Koran rolls over towards him. His manager whispers something into his ear while Koran lies vertical to his manager and vulnerable on the mat. Insane Luchador smirks and then charges forward dropping down to the canvas feet first, smacking into Koran’s back with a baseball slide! Mohammed is sent rolling past the ropes and over the apron, colliding with his manager.

 

“Brilliant move by the Insane Luchador, taking down whatever plans were being brewed,” LDP says.

 

The Insane Luchador quickly pulls himself up and stares down at his foes from the ring. Looking dissatisfied he slowly backs away as the two begin to get up. Matthew Kivell gives out a desperate plead with the Insane Luchador but there’s no use. He begins the count for Mohammed.

 

ONE! Koran gets to one knee and slowly helps pick up his manager.

 

TWO! The Insane Luchador stops in center of the ring and relaxes with his hands on his knees.

 

THREE!

 

“I smell plancha,” LDP proclaims.

 

“Why, thank you Captain Obvious!”

 

FOUR! The two stand to their feet and continue their conversation as the Insane Luchador comes charging towards the two.

 

FIVE! He reaches the ring ropes and doesn’t even bother with them- leaping straight over them with a flying Crossbody Block!

 

SIX! He descends and connects with the two as the two smack against the guardrail while Insane Luchador flops over to his back.

 

“Flying Crossbody from the Insane Luchador onto both Koran and Haram!” LDP proclaims.

 

SEVEN! The Insane Luchador flops over to his stomach, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He grits his teeth and stands up, swooping down and grabbing Koran.

 

EIGHT! He stands Mohammed up and goes to throw him back into the ring. But instead Koran uses his closest arm to smack a short elbow into Luchador’s temple. He then reaches the same arm around Luchador’s head and smacks it down onto the apron! Haram wheezes out a cheer as Koran rolls the Insane Luchador into the ring.

 

”Koran wants to prove he’s no punching bag, making sure he’s the one in control,” LDP says.

 

“True but he sure as hell didn’t look in control when Luchador went airborne with that hideous Crossbody,” King laughs.

 

NINE! Koran slides into the ring himself.

 

Insane Luchador rolls away and up onto his feet as Koran gets to his. He a smirk he tries to get the jump in a charge. Mohammed sees what’s coming and turns to the side, bending down and letting Luchador smack onto his back before catapulting him out of the ring. But the wily HGC Champion has enough experience to clutch onto the top rope, landing on the apron shakily. Koran stomps towards Kivell and begins to argue for no apparent reason, to the confusion of everybody. Haram Nazeer grabs the Luchador from the apron and tugs him down, smacking him against the steel barricade!

 

“Oh look at that! Blatant cheating by these two onto IL,” LDP says in disgust.

 

“It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught and besides, it’s time for some revenge for that Crossbody,” King says.

 

Koran continues the argument and forces Matthew Kivell to turn his back towards the scheme. Haram makes it swift as he fits on Koran’s signature brass knuckles and he nails Luchador in the gut. He speaks in a different language rapidly as he smacks him again in the stomach. Luchador doubles over and the manager throws him back into the ring. Koran glances back and finishes the argument as Kivell gives him a clear warning.

 

“Oh that tastes so delicious…” King says.

 

“What does?” LDP asks.

 

“Retribution,” King laughs.

 

Mohammed Koran turns around and spits again in disgust towards Kivell and approaches the Insane Luchador, grabbing him by his wild spiked hair, tugging him up. He tries to snatch the Luchador but the HGC Champion smacks his arms away. The two go for the grapple but Koran intentionally swipes his hand into Luchador’s eyes with an eye rake! Kivell protests but the Tigris Express simply acts oblivious before smacking Luchador with a left jab. He falls towards the ropes as Mohammed turns his attention back to his opponent, grabbing his arm and whipping his opponent into the ropes.

 

“You got to admit for a rookie, he cheats quite well,” King says.

 

“…Yeah, well, cheaters never prosper,” LDP throws out the cliché.

 

“You can pathetic, you know that?” King insults. “Well at least you beats the hell out of having Comet though… injustice by that vile felon! Phft, cheating is a strategy.” King impersonates then insists.

 

As Insane Luchador comes whipping back his opponent and gets halted by a spinning heel kick. He then moves forward and locks in a front facelock, swiftly grabbing a handful of Luchador’s khaki cargoes. He hoists his opponent into the air and stalls with his signature move as he taunts the crowd. To prove his point he even walks towards center of the ring and does a little spin before falling down for the drop. He nails the stalling vertical suplex with perfection and quickly gets over for the cover-

 

ONE!

 

Haram is the only supporter as the rest of the crowd screams in their jeers.

 

 

TWO!

 

 

But the Insane Luchador kicks out of the pin and Koran gets to his knees, whining to Kivell about a slow count. Meanwhile the Insane Luchador rolls away and gets to his feet. While Mohammed is still on his knees the Luchador swoops down and leaps out- grabbing Koran’s neck then twisting around, hitting a mini swinging neckbreaker. He hooks the leg!

 

 

ONE!

 

“Could be a simple move to end this,” LDP says.

 

But Mohammed Koran quickly breaks the pin and Luchador gets to his feet. His opponent rolls away and gets to his feet. He twists his neck to each side and rolls his shoulders as if he was just getting started. He slowly advances the Insane Luchador in a defensive stance before leaping out a nailing a beautiful dropkick. He is sent sprawling back followed by smacking against the canvas. He crumbles down near the turnbuckle where Koran runs over for the follow up.

 

“Not giving IL a chance to recover is a very good idea,” LDP says.

 

“Well it doesn’t help that neither of these men came in here with any sort of plan,” King says.

 

Insane Luchador begins to pick himself up from off the canvas but struggles to gain his bearings as his opponent rapidly approaches. Koran takes no chances as he reaches the corner by viciously stomping IL on top of his head. He then reaches down and scoops the Luchador up. He clutches him around the chest but the Insane Luchador wraps his two hands on the back of his opponent’s head, anchoring his weight down and forcing Koran to get smacked with a jawbreaker! The jawbreaker sends Mohammed stumbling back as the Insane Luchador gets the chance to get back to his feet. He charges at Koran but gets nailed with another dropkick that sends him smacking against the turnbuckle corner. Mohammed scrambles to his feet and runs towards the turnbuckle, smacking Luchador with a forearm to stun him. He then wraps his right hand over his opponent’s head and his left scoops underneath and connects with the thigh. He then snaps backwards and sends Insane Luchador onto the canvas with the T-Bone Suplex! The crowd seems at a near riot level as Nazeer points to the top turnbuckle.

 

“Looks like we might see the Flying Tiger,” LDP says. “Luchador could be in trouble here.

 

Koran looks doubtfully at his manager but then turns around to the turnbuckle, vaulting onto the top rope. He stands up and glances back, seeing Luchador crumpled near the center of the ring.

 

“Here it comes… another defeat on IL, shocker,” King says sarcastically.

 

He bends his knees and glances back a final time before launching himself backwards, elbow tucked near his body and bent out.

 

“Flying Tiger!” LDP screams.

 

He comes down right towards the oblivious Insane Luchador who flops onto his back and sees the airborne Koran. With milliseconds to react he quickly rolls away to the side causing a wave of cheers to emerge from the crowd. Mohammed Koran misses his opponent and smacks against the canvas. He bounces from the impact before rolling right towards Nazeer.

 

“Uh-oh, I smell a back up plan.”

 

Insane Luchador crawls over to the ropes opposing Mohammed who continues to get advice from his manager. Nazeer points inside the ring to the Insane Luchador who is uses the ropes as crutch while picking himself up. Koran nods and winces in pain as he quickly picks himself up, staggering towards the Insane Luchador. He gains his coordination and picks up his speed, heading right at the Luchador who’s only on one knee. He rapidly approaches but the HGC Champion is a step ahead and he drops himself onto the canvas, tripping Koran right into the ring ropes. His throat collides with the top rope and he falls backwards onto the canvas. The Insane Luchador quickly hooks lies over him and hooks the leg for the pin-

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Koran’s foot is slung over the bottom rope and Kivell stops the count, pointing to the Insane Luchador. Apathetically the Insane Luchador stands up onto his feet, giving a stomp right onto Koran’s chest. The Tigris Express tries to roll towards center of the ring for safety but the Luchador follows after him. He sends a stomp onto Koran’s back that halts him dead in his tracks, flopped on his stomach. His opponent leaps into the air and comes crashing down with a knee drop onto his back! Mohammed groans in pain as he forces himself to get to all fours. Slowly he gets himself to his knees and the Insane Luchador just stands behind him, ready to strike. He lunges out and wraps his arms underneath Koran’s armpits and yanks up, hitting the full nelson. He tries to force his foe up onto his feet but is met by resistance- Koran anchoring his weight down.

 

“He knows that the Brink of Insanity could be coming!” LDP proclaims.

 

The Insane Luchador uses his strength to tug Koran up violently and onto his knees. Meanwhile Haram Nazeer screams instructions to his client in desperation for his escape. Luchador tugs again and brings Mohammed onto his feet. Koran faces his manager and yanks his head back, smacking the Luchador in the face! But he holds his ground firm and doesn’t let the full nelson’s grip loosen. He begins to force Mohammed towards the turnbuckle until Nazeer leaps onto the apron in protest. The impatient Kivell insists that Haram has to get down or be thrown out but those few seconds before Haram drops back to the floor is all that’s needed. Koran swiftly jerks his leg backwards and nails Luchador in the jewels and breaks free from the hold. He spins around and smacks Luchador with a back hand but the Luchador just lunges his foot towards his opponent’s gut. Yet the Tigris Express quickly reacts and catches his opponent’s foot, tugging him towards him. He releases Luchador’s foot and turns around, clutching the back of IL’s head with his arm! The crowd goes into a near riot mode as Koran drops for his new finisher, the Arabian Pride.

 

“Diamond Cutter his new move dubbed the Arabian Pride,” LDP proclaims.

 

But the HGC Champion gives a hard shove to the back of Mohammed, sending him stumbling chest-first into the ropes.

 

“Luchador’s blocks the near finisher,” LDP gives the play-by-play.

 

Insane Luchador follows up and the second Mohammed begins to stumble with his back turned he snaps his arms up again, hitting a full nelson! Koran begins to flounder in desperation as Nazeer begins to leap up for Luchador’s leg-

 

“Luchador turning the two around, he hops onto the top rope,” LDP excitedly says.

 

“But Nazeer’s going to foil the Luchawhore!” King predicts.

 

Nazeer desperately jumps up and tries to clutch the top rope to trip the Insane Luchador. His fingers latch on and he anchors his body weight down. He notices the lightness of the rope and glances up in that split second seeing the Luchador’s springboard Brink of Insanity. Luchador swings his legs to the side of Koran while retaining the ever faithful full nelson, dropping straight to the canvas and smashing Mohammed body first! He rolls his opponent over and quickly hooks the leg-

 

 

ONE!

 

“This should be it!” LDP cries out.

 

 

TWO!

 

 

“Koran gave it a good effort, shame his manager isn’t competent,” King casually says.

 

But as Kivell begins to drop his hand Haram makes an arm swipe into the ring, grabbing onto his client’s foot and trying to place it onto the bottom rope. But the Insane Luchador notices the movement and removes his arm before scooping up both legs for insurance-

 

 

…

 

 

 

THREE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Haram cries out in frustration and defeat as Insane Luchador rolls backwards and stands up, throwing his arms triumphantly into the air.

 

“Man in the Box” begins while Haram bitterly rolls Koran out of the ring and to his feet, escorting him out. Meanwhile the Luchador keeps his pose to milk the cheers.

 

“Insane Luchador takes his match after a valiant effort from Koran,” LDP says. “But folks we have a whole lot more coming up- so don’t go away!”

 

-The classic… STARWIPE!-

[Ace309 0]

“Welcome back to the Lockdown, this is Longdogger Pete and the Suicide King here to bring you more and more of the action that you long for with deep, deep longing that just keeps getting longer and longer until it touches itself on the other end of the world BABY!”

 

“… That made even less sense than you usually don’t make Petey,” replies the Suicide King as he manages his portfolio during the commercials and leveraging it all into even more money. Soon he will be properly be leveraged to buy out the Vatican and turn it into an all night pornography palace… but that has nothing to do with what we’re here for tonight in Idaho.

 

“Well you just cannot hide the fact that this next match will feature a MYSTERY… bump, bump, bump! As former USJL Champion Austin Sly faces the gaping maw of the unknown. And it is going to happen right fricking now DADDY!”

 

The lights in the arena go dark. Pitch dark. So very dark that you could wave your hand in front of your face and not see it. So dark that you could reach out and grab the BUTT of the cute young sitting next to you and no one would be the wiser. You have been waiting for your chance all night long to get some of that sweet, sweet action. You reach out and … you grab PLUMMER ASS! I told you it was freaking dark! You reclaim your hand and consider burning it to the bone as a quick excerpt from Rage Against The Machine's cover of "Beautiful World" plays out through the speaker.

 

"It's a wonderful place, oh what a wonderful place..."

 

"For you..."

 

"... for you..."

 

"For you... not me..."

 

...

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

Pyrotechnics explode from each side of the stage, launching a mix of red and gold stars as the arrogant, yet moody Austin Sly walks through the curtain. Looking out the people with the kind of look that wilts flowers, Sly meanders his way past the people of potato as they continue to vent their rather noncommittal rage at a guy that may donate large portions of his time to charity. He doesn’t. But he could! They are making an assumption about Austin Sly that could totally be off the mark! Don’t you see? Regardless, the arena lights pulse along to the beat.

 

"Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet boooooy..."

 

"'Cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the streeeet boooooy..."

 

The man who loves his pie calls out to the arena crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the International Match of Mystery! Introducing first… he weighs in tonight at 237 pounds and hails from St. Louis, Missouri. He is the part of the match that is actually known at this second. He is AUSSSSSTIN SLLLLLY!”

 

Waling around the ring as his name is called out to the throng, Austin pulls of his trench coat and hangs it over the ring post before sliding underneath the bottom rope and into the ring. Ignoring the crowd and their needless noise, Sly bounces back against the ropes and takes a few jogging steps into the center of the ring to warm up the blood a little before finding out just who exactly he is going to be facing this evening. After all, it could be anyone from The Exploding Chicken to Thoth… again. But it’s NOT!

 

Funyon looks out the crowd for a while and shrugs since he doesn’t know who is coming to the ring next either. Suddenly the lights dim almost to nothing yet again but you keep your hands to yourself this time. But the lights come right back up almost immediately as the SmarkTron fires up to a white screen with a black silhouette’s head and shoulders visible on the screen. The darkened figure looks from one side of the arena to the other while the fans sit in hushed silence for a moment or three as the Idaho unwashed mumble to themselves in wonder on who exactly is now looking at them through a previously recorded message. The silence is broken shortly thereafter as the question mark man of doom pulls a microphone up to one side of his darkened figure and starts to…

 

Sing?

 

Believe it or not, I’m in the dark!

It’s some kind of mysterEEEEE!

Believe it or not, I’m in the dark!

Who could I BEEEEEEEEEEE?

Believe it not, it’s just me!

 

I could be Frost, but I don’t sell!

I could be Silent, but I dooooooOOOOOOooooooooo!

I could be ELM, but I don’t wear a mask!

I might be Wildchild but I’m wearing SHOOOOOES!

 

Believe it or not, I’m in the dark!

It’s some kind of mysterEEEEE!

Believe it or not, I’m in the dark!

Who could I BEEEEEEEEEEE?

Believe it not, it’s just me!

 

I could Annie but I don’t have breasts!

Then again neither does SHeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeeee!

I did write a really bad song….

You can probably guess my identiteeeeEEEEEEeee!

 

Believe it or not, I’m in the dark!

It’s some kind of mysterEEEEE!

Believe it or not, I’m in the dark!

Who could I BEEEEEEEEEEE?

Believe it not, it’s just FASAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

 

JUSTICE!

 

RULE!

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPOPPOPPOP!

 

“Holy crap on a stick! It’s EJIRO F’N FASAKI!”

 

HERE WE ARE BORN TO BE KINGS… WE’RE THE PRINCES OF THE UNIVERSE… YEAH!

 

With the crowd still reeling over the horror of the really bad musical skills of the mystery guest, Ejiro Fasaki strides out through the curtain with a broad smile as he spreads his arms widely to the crowd. The entire state of Idaho (population: 14) is both stunned and excited and soon to be disgusted by the return of Ejiro Fasaki. Waving to the crowd as they begin to turn on the long-time bastard, Ejiro runs up to the apron and climbs up to the middle rope with an arm in the air. Meanwhile, the crowd’s initial shock and awe has fully morphed into the raw hatred that Fasaki engendered for over a year in both the SJL and the SWF. Stepping off the apron, Fasaki snags the microphone away from the stunned ring announcer as the crowd has spontaneously burst into the chant that haunted Ejiro’s steps from the near beginning of his career.

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

Putting his hand up in the air Fasaki talks to the folks, “Hey folks! I am ba…”

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

“Excuse me, I’m trying to say that…”

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

“WILL YOU INBREAD BASTARDS SHUT UP AND LET ME TALK!”

 

The Suicide King steps up in defense, “This is no way to treat a former SWF Champion, former tag champion, USJL Champion AND SJL Champion! The man has all the credentials to be one of my lackeys and these potato peelers are going…”

 

“Wait… I’m sorry,” interjects Ejiro.

 

“You’re WHAT?” answers every voice in the entire arena including one of the ladies working the concession stands who doesn’t really care for wrestling because of her belief in nonviolent resistance.

 

“I said I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted,” answers Fasaki. “I wanted to come out here and say this was a whole new beginning. That this was going to be my chance to make it all up to you. But it looks like that isn’t going to happen. So in conciliation I guess I will have to settle for…” Ejiro puts down the microphone to his waist and turns to the somewhat forgotten Austin Sly. Walking up to the raven-haired warrior, Fasaki brings the microphone back up to his lips… “Beating you. Who are you again?”

 

SLAP!

 

Austin Sly pops Ejiro Fasaki right across the face with all the venom one man can gain for another in the course of 3 seconds. And as referee Eddy Long signals for the bell, Fasaki is already on the defensive as he is sent backwards into the ropes by the surprising attack. Quickly taking Fasaki by the wrist, Sly sends his opponent into the ring and aims a clothesline at the head of Ejiro only to have the nimble grappler duck underneath the blow and continue bounding across the ring. But things do not go that well for Fasaki for long as on the rebound, he is grasped by the throat and driven into the canvas by the raging St. Louis native. Throttling his opponent as the referee counts away at the illegal measure, Sly rages away on his opponent’s throat until he finally breaks at the count of four to avoid disqualification. Getting all the way up to his feet in a moment, Austin kicks away at his fallen foe as Ejiro seems to be crawling his way over to the relative safety of the ropes. But Sly affords his opponent no quarter as he continues to stomp and punts his opponent across the back and chest. Pulling Fasaki up to his feet, Sly hooks Ejiro about the head and lifts him overhead for a moment before falling backward with a hard vertical suplex. Floating over top of his opponent, Sly clamps down on Fasaki’s neck and starts to shout so loudly that the television cameras manage to pick up, “Who am I? WHO AM I? WHO ARE YOU BITCH!”

 

“Austin Sly is having a bit of an identity crisis at the moment if I do say so myself,” reports LDP as Sly breaks the hold on Fasaki’s neck once again and grabs his opponent off the mat by the hair. “He’s been around a long, long time and to be treated like a nobody by a returning veteran is a sure way to channel the inner rage.”

 

“Well that’s one way to look at it,” murmurs the King of Hearts, “but another way to look at it is that Fasaki is a bitch and Sly wants to know what his name is. What was all that touchy feely nonsense about before the match got started? Did Fasaki find Jesus or something?”

 

As The Suicide King ponders that question, Ejiro thinks about how he might have to actually meet Jesus shortly as he is pressed backward into a corner by the obviously slighted Sly. Putting a boot into Fasaki’s chest gets Austin one more opening in order to grab Ejiro around the throat and push him backward against the turnbuckle. Gasping for air yet again, Fasaki chokes under the pressure as Sly flips his long hair over his head to more fully appreciate the glory of choking the hell out of his opponent. Releasing the throat, Sly pulls his opponent out of the corner and sends him reeling across the ring with a hard Irish whip that crushes Ejiro’s chest against the corner and sends the former World Champion collapsing strait backward to the canvas. The air completely knocked out of the returning veteran, Ejiro finds that his assaulted throat just won’t pull in all of the air that it would on a normal occasion. Perhaps due to Sly’s attack or perhaps to Fasaki just not being ring ready after such a long layoff from active competition. But that is a question for another time as once again Fasaki finds his windpipe contracted as Austin Sly drops down on him with another choke. So frustrated by this constant rules bending the referee actually drops only Sly as well and tries to physically remove the much larger wrestler from his opponent. Removed from his prey almost in bemusement, Austin barely acknowledges the referee’s indignation as the official reminds him that choking just is not a legal maneuver. Austin shouts out the crowd as they start to shift unconsciously in their seats at the beating they have been seeing thus far tonight.

 

“Who is this BLEEP?” shouts the indignant Sly as the network censors catch the last word in the sentence just in time to keep the children of the world protected from dirty words while watching a television show built around violence.

 

“Ejiro Fasaki is really off his game tonight King,” reports The Longdogger as Fasaki barely even gets up to his feet before a knee to the back sends him tumbling through the ropes and to the arena floor. “You have to wonder if all this time off was voluntary or not considering the lack of offensive output by the admittedly tenacious competitor.”

 

“Just because I can make it look easy by coming back whenever I damn well feel like it does not make it possible for these youngsters to do the same. It takes a while to get your wind and timing back, and a hungry opponent like Sly can get himself a really good bite if you let him.”

 

Dropping out of the ring, Sly collects his witless bounty as Ejiro just does not seem to have the fire and guts needed to mount a comeback. Grabbing his opponent around the body, Sly lifts Ejiro off the canvas before dropping his upper chest right across the top of the barricade designed to keep the fans at bay. Flopping to the concrete floor like a gutted flounder, Fasaki tries to crawl away from his opponent as Sly almost calmly berates the closest fans to his position before slowly following Ejiro around the ring and shoving his foe back into the ring. Rolling near to the center of the ring, Fasaki tries to pull himself up to his feet and prepare an offensive as Sly simply steps up to the apron and grabs the top rope in preparation for his next offensive gambit of the night.

 

SPRINNNNNNG BAM!

 

“Oh what a maneuver,” calls out Longdogger Pete as Sly slings himself into the ring with a picture perfect springboard dropkick that knocks Ejiro all the way to the other side of the ring.

 

Rising up to his knees, Sly spreads his arms out to the crowd with a smile as the lifeless corpse of an opponent finally stops rolling near the other side of the ring near the ropes. Getting to his feet in absolutely no hurry, Austin gets across the ring and nonchalantly pulls Ejiro away from the ropes and lies across Ejiro with his shoulder in order to put this failed comeback out of its damn misery.

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOO!

 

Sliding a shoulder off the mat, Fasaki offers his first opposition to his opponent as Austin looks at the referee in shock for almost a second. Trying to get the most out of his dropkick, he drops on Ejiro again while actually hooking the leg this time in the hopes of a more professional cover being able to do the job more effectively.

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Getting out from underneath the cover yet again, Ejiro balls up his fist and starts to pump it a bit as Sly looks at the referee once again as if to blame the official for the match still being on. Using a clubbing forearm to fully show his growing frustration, Sly batters his opponent once again but this time Ejiro refuses to go down as his blood has finally started to pump a little with the successful kick outs. His attention now fully on the surging Fasaki, Sly batters his opponent with another hard forearm as Fasaki starts to … sigh… hulk up under the continuing attacks. Not waiting for the eventual retaliation however, sly quickly reaches out and jams a thumb right into the eye of his opponent and drive Fasaki right back down to a knee. Grabbing Ejiro by the wrist, Sly sends him across the ring with a whip and aims a clothesline at his opponent but misses the mark as Fasaki drops underneath and back into the ropes. Smiling brightly, Sly sticks out a hand for another choking takedown only to have Ejiro baseball slide right in between his legs! Confused for a moment, Sly turns instinctively before getting CUT THE FUCK DOWN!

 

SLAP!

 

Feeding a leg to Sly to grab, Fasaki quickly turns into the air and catches his opponent right behind the ear with a turning enziguri that sends his foe spinning around and to the canvas as the crowd suddenly pops to its feet! Of course, they then remember Fasaki is a amazing twat and drop back down to their seats swearing at the little joy they might have given ‘Rule’ in the process. But Ejiro has other problems beyond fan reaction to deal with as he is now finally ready to put some hurt on his no longer anonymous opponent. Grabbing Sly by his long black hair, Ejiro leans back and pops him right in the face with a series of three hard elbows to the top of the head before finally letting Austin loose and wobbling and almost out on his feet. That is before Ejiro knocks him down to the canvas with a running clothesline to the chest that causes Sly to sit up on the canvas for half a second before flopping right back down flat on the mat.

 

“And finally Ejiro is starting to roll,” calls out LDP as Sly is now the one trying to pull himself out of harm’s way as his opponent stalks after him with vengeance on his mind.

 

Grabbing Sly off the canvas, Ejiro sends his opponent into the ropes and catches him on the rebound with a hard reverse elbow that sends Sly rolling off to the side of the ring until he finds himself resting on the middle ropes with his head and neck. Not waiting another moment Fasaki rushes off the ropes to the other side and crashes down on Sly’s head and neck with all of his weight with a hard Bossman straddle that finally returns some throat damage in kind. Quickly slipping between the ropes Ejiro finds himself on the apron as Austin continues to remain prone on the ropes. Stepping back a few paces, Ejiro then rushes ahead and kicks Austin right between the eyes as the crowd cheers the impact of the blow!

 

Turning out to the crowd, Ejiro puts a hand up to his eyes as though he is tracking some sort of object in flight before finally putting both arms in the air to show that the kick was indeed ‘good’. Back into the ring he comes as Sly gets back up to his feet only to be knocked back into a corner with another hard elbow to the side of the jaw. Quickly pinning Austin in the corner, Ejiro climbs up to the middle turnbuckle before starting a ten punch count-a-long that would make Hacksaw Duggan proud!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

OHHHHHHHH CRAP!

 

Grabbing Ejiro around the legs, Sly almost instinctively steps out from the turnbuckle a few paces before falling backward and dropping Ejiro on the top rope with a hotshot clothesline that sends the former World Champion right back down to the mat!

 

“Brilliant defensive maneuver by Sly on that occasion,” reports Longdogger Pete as Ejiro rolls about the ring in pain as Sly leans back against the corner and tries to clear the cobwebs.

 

“You got it Petey,” replies The King of Hearts, “its one thing to just punch a guy in the face to get your advantage back, but it takes an extra little bit of intelligence to do it while continuing to work on your point of attack at the same moment.”

 

Grabbing Ejiro off the canvas as quickly as his battered head will allow, Sly pulls his opposition off the canvas and drives an elbow into the small of his back. Causing Ejiro to arch backwards, Sly uses the movement to put an arm around Ejiro’s head and drive him backward into the mat with the reverse DDT!

 

WHAM!

 

Quickly reaching over Ejiro’s body, Sly tries to get himself a three count over a former World Champion as Long slides into position to count…

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE~!

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!

 

THRENOOOOOOOOOOO~!

 

Kicking out of the pinning predicament, Ejiro forces the match to continue as Sly runs a hand through his black hair while trying to come up with something that might get him out of the ring in the very near future. Pulling Fasaki off the canvas, Austin Sly drags the former World Champion into the center of the ring and strikes him hard with a boot to the chest before quickly pulling his opponent into a double arm and dropping down to the canvas with a double arm DDT. Splattered by the impact, Ejiro rolls strait onto his back from the impact of the blow as Sly once again rises up to his feet. But this time he has a smile on his face as Ejiro appears to have had the fight taken out of him by the pair of DDTs that have laid him low in the last few moments of action. No longer quite so concerned by the sudden flurry by his opponent, Sly hauls Ejiro off the mat once again before slamming him into the mat with a hard body slam. Finishing the move’s required motions, Sly gets to his full height and points up high in the air before running into the ropes.

 

SPRINNNNNNNNNNG!

 

“SKY SURFER!”

 

WHOMP!

 

But Ejiro has the sense of mind to roll away from the moonsault and leaves once the match to catch Austin Sly as he collides face-first with the hard, hard canvas! Skidding to a stop on his nose, Sly rolls onto his back and starts to kick his legs against the mat as Ejiro rolls to the ropes as well in order to get his broken body back up to its feet.

 

“Its gut check time! We’ve gotten to the point when both men are hurt and both men could use a break. The one who takes one now will be the one who ends up on the losing end of the contest!”

 

Grabbing a rising Sly by the hair, Ejiro slams his opponent with a hard elbow to the side of the head and rocks Sly back on his heels as the crowd responds despite itself as Ejiro continues to battle back against the odds. Again and again, Ejiro strikes hard with his elbow before finally rearing back and letting fly the dreaded….

 

SCREAAAAMMMMMMMMMMING ELBOWAAAAAAAAA~!

 

BUT IT’S CAUGHT!

 

Ducking into the elbow as it comes tearing in for his face, Sly grabs Ejiro around the waist and quickly arches backward before crushing Ejiro’s neck into the canvas with a bridging belly-to-back suplex! Caught off balance by the move, the referee is shocked for almost a full second before he slides behind the pile and starts his count of…

 

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE~!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOO~!

 

Kicking up and off the canvas with all he has, Fasaki manages to send his head over his heels in order to break out of the pinning predicament. While at the same time Sly simply sits up on the canvas with two fingers raised in the air in absolute shock at the last second escape. Just pissed off beyond all reason, Sly stomps up to his feet Ejiro lays on his face for a moment before starting to push his way up to his feet. But he does not stand tall for long before Sly clamps down on his neck again with one hand and pulls the former World Champion close to his face.

 

“You ain’t BLEEP!” shouts Sly as spit hits Ejiro in the face, “Who are you BITCH! You are NOTHING!”

 

“Well… this… ain’t… NOTHIN!”

 

Quickly snatching Sly’s hand off from around his throat Ejiro quickly pulls the arm around in wringer before slapping a leg over the shoulder and DRIVING Austin into the canvas right on his shoulder!

 

“Fasaki Fuser! And here it COMES~!~!~!~! COBRAAAAAAAAAAA CROSSFACE~!”

 

Quickly sliding two hands under Sly’s chin, Ejiro pulls back on the head as Austin suddenly finds that he is no longer as in control as he was at one time. But soon such deep thinking is lost in the sea of pain that has replaced it as Ejiro cranks back further and further with the crossface. Realizing he has to get to the ropes, right now, Sly throws all thoughts of blocking the crossface by extending his free arm out towards the ropes as Fasaki just roars out in pain and rage trying to get this cocky son of a bitch to…

 

TAP! TAP! TAP!

 

“It’s OVER!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Sly went to the throat one too many times and the wily veteran was able to take advantage,” calls out LDP with a surprising amount of glee in his voice. “You can’t just keep going to the well over and over again and not expect someone to come up with a counter. And with a guy as dangerous as Fasaki, one counter might be all he needs to slap on the crossface and get the win.”

 

“Say what you will,” answers King, “But Sly took the measure of a man he couldn’t even prepare for tonight and still nearly won the whole damn thing. You ask me, four out of five times, Sly would have won this match up. Ejiro Fasaki rolled the dice and got freaking lucky if you ask me.

 

“I didn’t ask you!”

 

Giving one last pull on the crossface, Ejiro releases the hold and allows Sly to shudder on the canvas as the referee checks on his condition. Holding onto his throat for a second, Ejiro climbs up to the middle ropes as his theme music once again plays over the loud speaker system. Raising one fist into the air, Ejiro receives a much better ovation than he did earlier this evening but he no longer seems to care as the thrill of victory is still the greatest rush he could have had today. Today, Austin Sly introduced himself but Ejiro had enough in the tank to turn the challenge away.

[Ace309 0]

“Welcome back to SWF Lockdown,” greets the voice of Longdogger Pete as the cameras making a sweeping pass of the Boise crowd, packed like sardines in the Idaho Center. They rise to their feet with cheers and hold up their signs. “138 Days of Crap” and “The Cockroach was crushed!” are among a few of the less offensive ones.

 

“Finally,” Pete begins again as the cameras settle on the two announcers, “the time is upon us for the final match of the SWF Title Tournament. It’s been a rip-roaring ride so far; crowning two new Champions along the way and a few surprising twists in that, but tonight we put a close to this tournament. Tonight, Jay Hawke; the United States Champion, and Johnny Dangerous; the Intercontinental-Television Champion, will compete to unify the two titles and become the Champion of the newest SWF Title!”

 

“This should make for a pleasantly good match,” adds King - his lack of spitefulness actually surprising his announcing partner. “It’ll be amazing to see Jay Hawke become the first Champion of this new title.”

 

“How do you know Johnny Dangerous won’t win, King? I mean, he did the unthinkable and defeated Landon Maddix for the ICTV Title. I think the Barracuda is going to give up a much harder fight then what your expecting – so long as he can keep from getting frustrated and going nuts-o on Hawke.”

 

“Bingo,” King smugly replies. “You said it right there, Drain-Clogger. Johnny can’t keep this little aggressive streak of his under control to win a match that has rules. He’ll get himself disqualified before he actually pins Hawke. On the other hand, Jay Hawke just got his first taste of gold in the SWF – he isn’t about to give it up so easily, and especially after only five days!”

 

“Maybe so,” concedes Pete, “but I still have to pick the Barracuda to come out on top. He surprised even me by destroying Landon Maddix on Storm.”

 

Suddenly, the familiar strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” kick up from the speakers while the lights slowly dim, heralding the entrance of Jay Hawke. The crowd, as expected, unloads with some boos!

 

“Introducing first,” says Funyon, “from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio, weighing in at 215 pounds … he is the SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION UNITED STATES CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOON… ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ JAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he emerges from the curtain. He stops at the top of the ramp and just looks out across the sea of fans before parting his black and purple robe to reveal the United States Championship secured to his waist. All around him he can here the fans striking up their familiar chant:

 

“HAWKE SUCKS!”

“HAWKE SUCKS!”

“HAWKE SUCKS!”

“HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

“Hawke is obviously very proud of his newest accomplishment,” notes King. “He came to this federation with one goal – championships – and has done everything he can to make sure that he fulfills his goals. I’d say he’s doing a pretty fine job if you ask me.”

 

“But we didn’t,” replies Pete, with a wide-toothed grin. His remark gets the Suicide King’s watchful eye, but before he can snap back at Pete Funyon begins again.

 

“And his opponent,” he says as the lights dim down and a voice whispers a name in a deep, sultry voice…

 

“JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!”

 

…and the Idaho Center trembles with delight! “After the Flesh” kicks up from the speakers, getting a solid cheer from the fans and even more so when the Barracuda himself steps out from behind the curtains. Fans crowd the aisles leading to the ring, hoping to grab a good snapshot or a high five from the Secret Agent, but he simply passes by them and slides into the ring – his focus is totally on the task at hand.

 

“From Las Vegas, Nevada and weighing in at two hundred-seventeen pounds! He is one half of the SWF WOOOOOOOORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS AND THE REIGNING SWF INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIOOOOOOOON… JOHNNY ‘THE BAAARRAAACUDAAA’ DAAAANGEROUUS!!”

 

Johnny slides into the ring, heads for the turnbuckles and climbs up, igniting a wave of flash photography as he raises both title belts out to the fans. After a few seconds of mugging for the crowd, Johnny’s head snaps over and he glares at Jay Hawke rather menacing before climbing down from the post and handing the titles over to the referee.

 

“Ever since Johnny didn’t win the Clusterfuck we’ve seen quite a different side to the Barracuda,” notes Pete. “He’s been highly unpredictable and overly aggressive – seemingly willing to do whatever it takes to make his way back to the top of this federation.”

 

“Yeah, but his involvement in this tournament is more destructive than helpful in his bid to get a title match against our World Champion,” King says. “If that’s what he really wants he should just walk away now and let Hawke have this new title.”

 

“I bet you’d like that too,” replies Pete. “Anything to keep this highly disputed undefeated streak of Jay Hawke’s intact.”

 

“He is undefeated, Toilet-Clogger!” snaps King, “in singles matches that is. His only two losses have come against Wild and Dangerous in tag team matches.”

 

“And one-half of Wild and Dangerous is in the ring now,” Pete reminds his announcing partner. In the ring, referee Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington takes both title belts and holds them high into the air, displaying them to every side of the crowd. The gold glistens off the lights and the fans cheer enormously. They know that tonight the storied histories of two separate titles in the SWF is about to come to a close, so the final displaying of these belts is a heartfelt one. After a few moments, Herrington hands the two belts off to a ringside assistant, for probably the last time.

 

“Indeed the time to put these two titles to rest has come,” says Pete, “but with the retirement of these two belts we kick off the newest SWF Title which has yet to be named – those honors go to the winner of this match.”

 

“If Johnny wins I could only imagine what kind of self-glorifying title name he comes up with,” grumbles King. “The Barracuda Title?”

 

In the ring and with the cheesiest, shit-eating grin imaginable, Johnny extends his hand to Jay Hawke, “-and will you just look at that,” says Pete. “Even in this kind of a match, with all that is at stake here, the Barracuda is willing to show a little good sportsmanship!”

 

“My a(Beep!)S he is!” snaps King. “Just look at that demonic smile. If you think Johnny Dangerous is here to be a good sportsman than you obviously haven’t been paying attention lately!”

 

The feeling is mutual for the Dean of Professional Wrestling. He looks at Johnny’s extended hand almost in amazement! If the Barracuda thought that Hawke was about to engage in a civil match he was seriously in for a rude awakening, and with the way Dangerous is looking at Hawke he’s lucky he doesn’t get his teeth kicked down his throat! Jay immediately slaps Johnny’s hand away from him then quickly lunges at his opponent with a ferocious growl, catching Dangerous in the side of his face with an elbow!

 

CRACK!

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

“This match is on!” exclaims Pete as Johnny’s head snaps back from the blow, and the crowd goes wild with the bell signifying the start of this anticipated bout! Hawke advances on the Barracuda, slamming two more elbows into the side of his face before grabbing his arm to send him barreling across the ring with an Irish whip! As Johnny goes towards the ropes Hawke stoops down, anticipating Dangerous’ return, but the return never comes – Johnny quickly grabbing onto the ropes to keep himself away from harms reach. However, if he won’t come towards harm it’ll just have to go to him. Hawk suddenly bolts towards Johnny, but the Barracuda isn’t going to just stand there and watch as his opponent races in towards him – Johnny comes off the ropes and levels Hawke with a short clothesline!

 

WHAM!

 

The blow catches the US Champion by total surprise, knocking him flat on his back, but he quickly jumps back up to his feet…

 

WHAM!

 

…Only to get knocked back down once more with another clothesline! The fans howl in excitement at the Barracuda’s growing momentum, but the two clotheslines only start to enrage the US Champion.

 

“This match is starting off with a tremendous bang!” exclaims Pete. “Both of these competitors are giving the other man everything he’s got!”

 

“They’d better slow down if they want to come out of this with the victory,” warns King. “They’re going to end up wearing themselves out in the first five minutes!”

 

Once more Hawke pops back up to his feet, this time quickly jumping to the defensive. Johnny is stopped across the ring, grinning at his opponent, and then he steps forward – moving to encircle Jay as some chants for the Secret Agent break out:

 

“JOOOOOOHN-E!”

“JOOOOOOHN-E!”

“JOOOOOOHN-E!”

 

The chants of the Idaho crowd get a grinning nod from Johnny. It’s almost as if he were trying to rile up his opponent by showing him who’s side the fans were on, but the notion is taken in no regards from Hawke. He doesn’t care what these tractor driving, potato growing fools with dirty fingernails think – he never has before and he isn’t about to start now! Finally, the two men come together and clash with a collar-elbow-tie up, fighting for purchase! It’s a bait and switch though, as Johnny has no desire to try and out-muscle Jay Hawke and quickly breaks the tie up while grabbing his opponent’s arm and spinning around behind him for a hammerlock! The Barracuda cranks back on the arm, but Hawke isn’t about to start handing over body parts this early on without a fight! He suddenly spins around, ripping his arm free of Johnny’s grasp and nailing the Secret Agent in the jaw with an elbow!

 

CRACK!

 

Johnny stumbles back with a hand to his jaw, feeling his lip for blood as he angrily glares at his opponent. The feeling is mutual, and Jay stares back just as well--rather intensely as he knows he finally got one in over Dangerous --while taking the half second he has to work the kink out of his shoulder. The heated moment sends a buzz through the Boise crowd, and they move to the edge of their seats. Chants erupt from all corners of the arena as the two competitors snarl at each other and bare down on their knuckles, seemingly growing more irate by the minute!

 

“Will you just listen to these fans,” marvels Pete. “I never imagined this title tournament would get these fans so excited!”

 

“Figures,” hisses King, shaking his head in annoyance. “These people are so bored with their lives – picking potatoes all day long – all we have to do is have someone nail a clothesline and these people are having an orgasm.”

 

Suddenly, Johnny rockets towards the US Champion and fakes with a left then quickly slings a right into Hawke’s mouth!

 

WHAM!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

The fans explode into cheers, thrilled that this match just might be filled with more ruthlessness than originally expected. However, the blow doesn’t even seem to faze the US Champion, and he fires back with a forearm into the side of Dangerous’ skull!

 

WHACK!

 

Johnny immediately stumbles back, unable to take the blows without flinching like his opponent, and if Jay has it his way… the Barracuda will be doing a lot more than flinching in the next few minutes! He quickly closes in with a second forearm…then a third, each hit knocking Dangerous a step closer to the ropes! Though dazed, Johnny frantically reaches back to feel for the ropes and to have something to grab onto, but before he can reach them Hawke grabs him by the arm and whips him across the ring! Johnny hits the ropes and bounces back towards the US Champion, who begins the motions of a lariat, but before he can connect Johnny ducks down and blazes right under the ‘Dean’s’ arm! He races right past Hawke, heading straight for the ropes behind his opponent and picking up some serious steam! He hits the ropes and springs off them to go screaming back towards the US Champion, then jumps up…

 

WHAM!

 

…and slams into the ‘Dean of Professional Wrestling’ with a flying body press! He catches Jay just as he was spinning back around to face him, and hits so hard that he violently sends Hawke crashing down into the canvas! Johnny stays right on top of his opponent, hoping for a quick pin as Herrington drops to count for…

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

NOOO!!! Hawke, using everything he’s got, shoves the Barracuda off of him, ending the count just before two!

 

“I think you can toss that friendly match idea out the window now, Comet,” snickers King, as Pete furrows his brow. “These two look more like two gorillas fighting for leadership of the band! Only this fight is to get back that new title… so umm…I guess they wouldn’t really be fighting for leadership or anything, but still…you know what I mean…it’s not friendly!”

 

“Well if there’s one thing you should learn from tonight, that’s to quit while you’re ahead,” says Pete, scolding his broadcast partner. “As far as these two go, they might be taking out more of their aggression then what I had originally hoped for—both of them!”

 

Hawke tries to quickly get to his feet and get back on the defensive path, but his nimble opponent greets him with a boot to the gut! Jay doubles over and Johnny snags him in a side headlock. He clenches down as hard as he can then starts to pull the US Champion across the ring, fully intending to clothesline him across the top rope. However, Jay isn’t about to let any of those shenanigans play out though and he quickly slams on the brakes, shoving Dangerous away. Johnny keeps on going, heads across the ring once more then hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards Hawke. Like before, the Dean looks to catch the Barracuda with a lariat only this time…

 

WHACK!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

…it connects, and he sends Johnny to the mat with a thunderous clothesline! Now it’s Jay’s turn to make for the cover, and he does so with Herrington counting for…

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-NOOO!!!! Johnny kicks out just in the middle of two! Hawke grabs the Barracuda by his head and pulls him to his feet, tossing in a few shots to Johnny’s midsection to keep him subdued before spinning him around and locking his hands around the Barracuda’s waist from behind! Dangerous knows what’s coming up next and it’s all he can do to frantically grapevine his leg around Hawke’s as the Dean tries to haul him over for a German. It stops the suplex as intended, giving Johnny enough time to send an elbow flying back into his opponent’s skull! Jay grunts from the blow, but doesn’t budge until three more elbows thrown in rapid succession coming firing back at him! Finally, the strikes pay off and Hawke staggers back off the Secret Agent, releasing his hands from Johnny’s waist. But it seems to only enrage the ‘Dean of Professional Wrestling’ even more, and he charges right back in, just when Dangerous thought he had a second to breathe…

 

WHAM!

 

…and clubs him right in the spine with a closed fist! Johnny arches back, crying out in pain as the crowd “OOOOOH”S!” from the hollow, bone filled THUNK~! that pierces the sound waves!

 

“OH!” Pete winces at the hit. “Jay Hawke is pulling out all the stops to try and put the Barracuda away. I don’t think he realizes what he’s dealing with—who he’s in the ring with—cause we’ve all seen what happens when the Barracuda unleashes all his frustrations in the ring!”

 

“He knows damn well who’s in that ring with him,” snaps King, “and he isn’t about to let that goofball upstage him in a match!”

 

Hawke quickly seizes his opponent once more from behind then hauls him up, and over, and into the canvas, neck-and-shoulders first with a German suplex!

 

WHAM!

 

Then immediately floats over for the cover.

 

ONEE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOO!!!!

 

 

 

NOOOOO!!!!!! Johnny thrusts his shoulder of the mat just after two, saving himself from a loss for the time being.

 

“Jay Hawke goes for the suplex once more, only this time he gets it and earns a two count,” says Pete. “Thus bringing his power package to the table; only tonight he’s not just bringing it, he’s heaving it onto the table! If Agent Dangerous has any realistic plans of winning this match he’s going to have to keep the distance and move the match with quick strikes.”

 

Hawke moves to reacquire the shaken Barracuda before he can get to a vertical position on his own; grabbing Johnny by his head and jerking him to his feet. Jay quickly pulls Johnny into a headlock to keep the pressure on his opponent and gradually wear him down until Dangerous has nothing left to offer. That time has yet to come though, and before the US Champion has the chance to tighten his grip and crush the Secret Agent like a trash compactor, Johnny jams his elbow into Hawke’s gut! the Dean grunts on impact and Johnny fires another shot in, this time with a little more force behind it. The elbows themselves don’t really do much damag, but they certainly distract him from his goal, and eventually allowing the Barracuda to slip out of harms reach. Johnny quickly darts across the ring, hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards the Dean, just as Hawke suddenly spins back around with a forearm leading the way!

 

WHOOSH!

 

Johnny dodges the forearm smash by ducking down and spinning away from the oncoming arm then fluidly moves right into a roundhouse kick! He nails the US Champion right in his abdomen, stunning Hawke as he doubles over while clenching his wound. Johnny takes the one second opening that his opponent gives him and moves right into a Russian Leg Sweep! Hawke goes crashing into the mat after having his legs swept out from under him, and Johnny quickly jumps up then arches back while bringing out his elbow…

 

WHACK!

 

…and sinks the point of his elbow directly into Jay Hawke’s sternum! The ‘Dean of Professional Wrestling’ quivers on impact, but stays on his back as Johnny floats over for a cover.

 

ONEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!

 

“Again, Hawke slips out of the pin attempt,” says King, as the US Champion thrusts his shoulders off the mat then rolls onto his stomach and pushes up off the mat, “proving that it’s going to take a lot more than anything Johnny has to offer to put him down!”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Brian,” Longdogger firmly replies. “I think Johnny is starting to realize that he needs to let his instincts in the martial arts guide him in this match. If anything it’s definitely allowed him to take control of this match.”

 

“Yeah, but how long is that going to last?” ponders King as Hawke gets to his knees only to find the Barracuda charging back towards him! Johnny dives at his opponent feet-first, but the US Champion quickly rolls out of the way…

 

“Oof!”

 

…and Johnny lands flat on his back in the most unflattering of mannerisms. He flushes bright red and quickly pops back up to his feet…

 

WHACK!

 

Only for Jay Hawke to charge in with a forearm smash that sends the Barracuda rocking on his heels! Johnny staggers back against the ropes, semi-stunned, but still coherent enough to quickly duck down as Jay rushes forward with a second forearm smash. Johnny pops up from behind then braces himself to deliver a Johnny Kick! The crowd moves to the edge of their seats, and as the Dean turns back around to face his opponent, Johnny launches his foot into the air--his targeting reticules locked onto Hawke’s chin!

 

“NOBODY HOME!” exclaims King as Hawke frantically leans back to avoid the blast and grabs the Barracuda by his ankle, snatching it straight out of mid-air! Johnny gasps in horror, but before he can readjust his plan the Dean flips him to the mat, flat on his face, “-and here comes the Wing Span!” cries Pete. “Jay Hawke has got Johnny down, and if he can lock that devastating submission in this could spell disaster for Agent Dangerous!”

 

“And victory for Jay Hawke,” adds King.

 

“Well, yes,” replies Pete, shaking his head in despair, “that is how it generally goes. I’m so glad you could lend your wisdom to tonight’s broadcast.”

 

“Go to hell, Drain-Clogger!” snaps King as Hawke desperately tries to scissor his legs around Johnny’s arm and lock in his deadly Wing Span, but Johnny frantically kicks and bucks, trying to worm his way free! Finally, he reaches for the ropes, as it’s all he can do to break free and snares onto the bottom. Herrington calls for the break, which gets a half big reaction from the fans! However, Hawke is less than willing to oblige. He keeps on trying to lock in the submission even with the referee ordering a break, hammering his fist into Johnny’s shoulder blades, forcing the referee to start a count…

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

Finally, Hawke obliges and releases Dangerous, who lets out a sigh of relief, but it isn’t going to last long as the US Champion quickly pulls him back up with an arm wrench. He steps forward, whipping the Barracuda across the ring and straight towards the corner…

 

WHACK! “OOOOOOOOH!!”

 

Johnny slams back-first into the unforgiving steel post then flops to the canvas! He groans in agony, clutching his aching back while trying to get back up. Staying on the mat would certainly be his doom and he knows it, so despite the pain he reaches for the ropes and pulls himself back to his feet. However, that seems to be just what the US Champion was hoping for. He charges across the ring towards his opponent, catching Johnny like a deer caught in the headlights before spinning around and absolutely blasting him in the face with a roundhouse kick!

 

KA-RAAAACK!!

 

Hawke’s devastating blow sends the Barracuda tumbling over the top rope to the thinly-padded concrete floor, and he lands with a monstrous thud!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“What a tremendous hit that was!” exclaims Pete, shouting over the booing crowd. “I think Agent Dangerous might be counting his blessings that it sent him over the top rope and not to the mat, or it’d have certainly been the end of this match!”

 

“It might as well be,” says King. “Seeing as how Jay Hawke has basically controlled ever second of this match it’s not very likely that Johnny can win, anyway, he might as well give up now!”

 

Herrington begins the standard ten-count on Johnny, who is on the outside holding dearly to his head. He gets up on his knees, but doesn’t move from that position.

 

“ONEEE!!!”

 

 

 

“TWOOO!!!”

 

 

 

“THREEEE!!!”

 

 

 

“FOOOOOUR!!!”

 

Hawke knows he could probably win this match right now as the Barracuda doesn’t look to be climbing back inside the ring anytime soon, but he decides not to tempt fate. So like any sensible warrior would, the Dean drops out of the ring and grabs Johnny by his collar, pulling the stunned Secret Agent to his feet then heaves him in the ring under the bottom rope with everything he’s got! hawke rolls in after his opponent just as the referee reaches the count of “SIIIIIIIIX” then rolls Johnny onto his back and goes for the pin. Herrington stops his count out and drops for the pin-fall.

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

 

Johnny kicks out with only a nanosecond to spare, and the crowd roars its approval with a thunderous cheer!

 

“Johnny gets the shoulder up again,” says Pete, “but there wasn’t much authority behind that one. Luckily, he had all that time to recover or he might have bit the dust right there!”

 

“Unluckily for us though,” chirps King. “We could have been done with this match already. To think that we could’ve already crowned the new champion!”

 

Hawke grabs Johnny by his head and begins pulling him to his feet. It’s obvious that the US Champion has grown tired of the Barracuda’s persistence. He’s dominated the Secret Agent for most of the match, proving to Dangerous and the World that he is truly superior. He grabs Johnny by his throat and pulls him to his feet, only to a thumb to his eyes!

 

“What the hell was that!?” cries King, “Johnny just raked the Dean of Professional Wrestling’s eyes!”

 

Hawke staggers back, both hands covering his eyes as Johnny steps forward and slams his open fist into the US Champion, right between the eyes, with a vicious, yet desperate Shotei Palmstrike!

 

THHHHH-WAAAACK!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

The crowd explodes as Johnny thunders the strike into Hawke’s skull and sends the Dean stumbling back, “-and Agent Dangerous still has some fight left inside him!” exclaims Pete. “He’s not going down to Jay Hawke just yet, so long as he has something left in the tank!”

 

Dangerous steps forward, utterly seething and determined that win or loose, he won’t be the only one going home with a headache tonight! He storms after the US Champion and launches his fist into Hawke with a second Shotei, and then a third before finally spinning completely around…

 

WHOOSH-CRACK!!

 

…and just cranking his foot into Hawke’s temple with a spinning heel kick, nearly fracturing his skull! The Dean of Professional Wrestling goes flying backwards and he falls into the ropes, completely stunned out of his mind! Johnny quickly reacts, knowing good and well that it won’t take long for his opponent to gather himself. He pulls Jay off the ropes and ducks down to drape his opponent across his shoulders then carefully, with a tremendous growl, stands to his feet!

 

“What a tremendous display of strength by the Barracuda,” marvels Pete as the fans valiantly cheer the Secret Agent on. Johnny doesn’t take any time to acknowledge them though, knowing that he can’t hold his opponent up for long as his back is already starting to give away. He quickly executes a forward flip, bringing his opponent down into the canvas and drilling him back-first!

 

WHAM!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“Spinal Explosion!” calls Pete, as the ring quivers on impact. “Agent Dangerous is showing that he can come up with some powerful moves as well as his opponent!”

 

“Maybe so,” adds King, “But do you really think that’s going to be enough to end this match!?”

 

Hoping to answer that very question, Johnny reaches back and hooks onto Hawke’s leg then rolls him onto his shoulders. Herrington drops to count for…

 

ONEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-NOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Jay kicks out just before three, and the fans roar in excitement! He pushes off the mat with one hand while holding his head with the other hand, grimacing from the head trauma.

 

“All those shots Agent Dangerous has delivered to The Dean’s head seem to be finally sinking in,” observes Pete.

 

As Hawke finally stands the Barracuda is already waiting on him, and Johnny punts his foot right into the Dean’s gut! Jay doubles over into a side headlock, just like earlier, only this time he isn’t able to put up any resistance as Dangerous bolts across the ring, pulling him along for the ride. Johnny doesn’t even bother to slow down as he nears the edge of the ring, instead he hurdles over the top rope and clotheslines the US Champion against the ropes as he drops to the outside! Hawke goes flying back and crashes down back-first into the mat with a tremendous thud! He thrashes back and forth while clenching his neck, and to Johnny he’d appear to be the perfect sitting duck. The Secret Agent hops up to the outside apron then vaults to the top rope and springs off! He extends his elbow way out, but before he reaches his opponent, Hawke draws his knees up and Johnny slams chest-first into them!

 

“OOOOOOOOH!”

 

Johnny glances off the knees and is sent spinning through the air before crashing down into the mat himself, leaving both men on the mat to wallow in their own pains!

 

“Dear God!” shouts Longdogger Pete. “Just like that, Jay Hawke puts a block into Agent Dangerous’ game plan!”

 

Johnny sits on his knees, cradling his chest as Hawke staggers to his feet, woozy from the skull shots. The Dean moves forward while holding the side of his head, just as the Barracuda starts climbing back up to his feet, but before he can get all the way up Hawke shoots at the Barracuda’s foot! He grabs Johnny’s foot, but the split second reflexes of the Secret Agent cause him to leap up…

 

CRACK!

 

…and just barely grazes the back of the Dean’s skull with an enzuigiri! Hawke drops to his knees, too stubborn to actually fall flat on his face, which is no problem for Dangerous—he’ll make the US Champion go down like it or not! Johnny quickly reaches around Hawke’s neck from behind, and locks on a sleeper! Dangerous tightens down as hard as he can, determined to subdue this beast, who is flailing his arms and trying to pull Johnny’s arms away from his neck!

 

“The Barracuda is going for the technical knockout it seems,” suggest Pete. “With all the blows Johnny has dealt to Hawke’s head, this could very well be the ticket!”

 

“What are you blabbering about? Johnny doesn’t contain the strength in those toothpick arms to put a poodle out, much less the Dean of Professional Wrestling himself,” King says, even as Hawke seems to be slowly fading. However, Jay Hawke is determined to go home as the new Champion. He isn’t about to let the Barracuda put him out and so Hawke begins to stand while jamming elbow and elbow back into Johnny’s side, “-and the Dean is fighting back!” exclaims King. “He isn’t about to give up this match after dominating Johnny for so long. He’s got way too much energy invested in this match to let it all slip away so easily!”

 

“Perhaps that was the Barracuda’s plan,” Pete speculates. “Maybe Johnny wanted Hake to wear himself out and not be able to fight back when it really mattered.”

 

“But he IS fighting back,” adds King. Indeed the Dean is fighting back, and his elbows finally knock Johnny off of him, but not without a tremendous amount of effort. Jay rushes forward, wanting to get as much distance between him and dangerous as possible, and heads for the ropes. He hits them and comes sailing back towards Johnny, but like several times before Johnny is more than ready for the Dean’s return and he jumps up…

 

CRACK!

 

“And LEVELS the US Champion with a springing side kick!’ shouts Pete as Johnny’s foot sails into the Dean’s jaw, knocking him flat on his back! Jay moves quickly though, desperately trying to claw his way back up to his feet even in his stunned state. Behind him, Johnny eagerly awaits with the fans rising to their feet in anticipation, cheering whole-heartedly, and as Hawke staggers to his feet…

 

“Here it comes,” says Pete, and Johnny swoops in on Hawke and puts his devastating fall away slam into motion. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-”

 

-SLAM!!!

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

 

“MI SLAM! MI SLAM!”

 

The fans howl in excitement at seeing the Barracuda’s deadly move executed to finish as Hawke is pounded into the canvas! Johnny isn’t about to waste any more time however and quickly floats over for the cover as Herrington drops to count for:

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

‘After the Flesh’ kicks up in the arena once more, this time in celebration of the Barracuda’s victory, alongside the fans roar of cheers.

 

“Your winner of this match,” bellows Funyon, “and winner of the SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION TITLE TOURNAMENT… JOOOHNNY ‘THE BAAAARRAAAACUDAAAA’ DAAAANGEROUUUS!!!”

 

Herrington hands the Tag Team Championship back to Dangerous, and then grabs Johnny’s arm and raises it high into the air in victory as Funyon’s announcement comes over the speakers.

 

“Johnny Dangerous has won the SWF Title Tournament,” says Pete. “However, we’ll have to give him some time to decide what he’s going to call this new title as the belt will be unveiled on Smarkdown.”

 

“Smarkdown?” questions King, “gee-whiz! You mean to tell me I have to wait four days to figure out what crappy name Johnny is going to bestow on this new title belt?”

 

“What you expected us to have a title already engraved with whatever name Johnny hasn’t even picked out for it yet?”

 

“Alright,” King concedes. “You have a point.”

 

Johnny takes his one title and heads out of the ring, knowing that on Smarkdown he will be presented with the new SWF Title and have one more Championship under his belt…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As We:

FADE OUT.

[Ace309 0]

Scott Pretzler is sitting in a folding chair in the Revolution Zero dressing room. In his hand is a television remote control; on his face is a look of intense concentration. A computer printout is resting in his lap. The television cannot be seen, but the sound emanating from it leaves no doubt as to what he is watching.

 

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

“I’m just breathless watching these two,” Longdogger Pete says in amazement as Wildchild comes back to his feet and the two wrestlers pause to size each other up for a moment. “That opening exchange was one of the fastest-paced I’ve ever seen!”

 

 

As of tonight, Pretzler and Wildchild have met in the ring on only two occasions. Both were in the heat of tag-team competition, and both times Pretzler’s team went down to defeat. Furthermore, the only pinfall to occur between them ended with Scott Pretzler’s shoulders on the mat. And even when the Critic attempted a run-in during Wildchild’s match against the Insane Luchador, the Bahaman turned the tables and painted the steel walkway with Pretzler’s brains. Pretzler came to the SWF claiming to be better than anyone else, and he has certainly proven his superiority – Kaine’s neck broken like a burnt twig, the Cruiserweight title around his waist, an alliance with the World Champion. Yet since arriving he has been shown up repeatedly by this… spot monkey.

 

Last Wednesday, some measure of revenge was achieved.

 

Brass knuckles to the face, over and over. Wildchild’s anguished moans. And then the icing on the cake – the Tildebang on the ramp. It was a beautiful moment, no doubt. But what did it prove? Anyone can run in after a match and beat down a tired and helpless competitor. Truth is, Wildchild is the only one to have scored a victory where it counts: in the ring.

 

Tonight, that will change. It will be a Fatal Four-Way involving Toxxic, Todd Cortez, Wildchild, and Pretzler himself. At least, that’s what they’re calling it; everyone knows that Revolution Zero will be functioning as a unit. Right? Pretzler and Toxxic have not yet discussed their strategy, but it goes without saying that they will practice teamwork… In any event, this will be the match in which the scored is truly evened. This will be the match in which Scott Pretzler defeats Wildchild, in the center of the ring, by making him tap–

 

Knock!

Knock!

 

Before Pretzler can get up to open the door, Toxxic steps into the room. The World Championship belt is resting on his shoulder. Pretzler pauses the video.

 

“Toxxic.”

 

“Wotcha.” He looks over at the television set and sees what it is that his stable mate has been watching. “See you’re taking an interest in my match with Dub-Cee.”

 

Pretzler gestures for Toxxic to sit. He prefers to stand.

 

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I’ve obviously been studying his matches a great deal lately, as I’ll soon be defending my Cruiserweight Championship against him, and I think it would help us both if I shared some of my insights with you. Are you familiar with my SWF television Workrate Reports?”

 

“Fraid not mate," Toxxic grins. "Should I be?”

 

”Why, of course. Whatever my detractors may say about me as a person, I do know a great deal about this business. These reports that I write are intended to enlighten. I really think that it would help you as a performer if you became familiar with them. And we do have a lot in common, with our emphasis on ethics and respect for the rules.”

 

“You been reading them, Scott? I notice you haven’t won a match since before From the Fire.”

 

Pretzler’s face turns slightly red. He fidgets.

 

“Toxxic, please sit down.” The champion sits reluctantly. Pretzler lifts up the print out and shows it to him. “This is a copy of my Workrate Report for last week’s SWF Smarkdown. Let me just read to you a little of what I’ve written about your match with Double-You-See. Say, don’t you Britons use the term ‘WC’ to refer the toilet?”

 

“That’s right," Toxxic snorts. "Speaks volumes about ‘im.”

 

“It does. In any case, here’s an excerpt.” He sits up straight and begins to read aloud:

 

“What makes the Wildchild such a lackluster – and frustrating – wrestler to watch, in spite of his allegedly dazzling acrobatics, is his persistent and alarming carelessness. Notice, for example, the sequence involving his rotating splash in the corner. (I might add that twirling through the air does nothing to increase the effectiveness of the move, and actually renders the one executing it less able to control his momentum, but we’ll leave that on the side for now.) At the start of this segment of the match, Wildchild does nothing to ensure that Toxxic will remain in the corner long enough for the splash to connect – he merely gives the champion a hearty shove and hopes for the best. Toxxic’s avoidance of the move, while sold as a feat of ingenuity, is therefore no more than a logical continuation of what Wildchild has set himself up for. And while his… reversal… of the Role-Reversal is an impressive feat, he does virtually nothing to capitalize on it, instead standing dumbly while he waits for Toxxic to make the required comeback. It’s sloppy, unfocused wrestling, and adding a few extra degrees to one’s somersaults isn’t enough to cover that up.”

 

Toxxic nods, agreeing with what Pretzler has said so far. For all of his arrogance, the man does understand the dynamics of wrestling.

 

“…Of course, it would be wrong to put all of the blame on Wildchild. This is, after all, just as much Toxxic’s match as his, and one of the responsibilities of a skilled worker is to cover up for the weaknesses of others. While it’s momentarily heartening to see him take advantage of Wildchild’s stalling after the monkey flip, what follows is less so – instead of capitalizing and leaping to the offensive, he allows his opponent’s atrocious selling to be laid bare, doing next to nothing as Wildchild shrugs off the enziguri and tumbles around the mat like a ballerina. A smart worker such as Flesher or myself would have gone to the mat following this strike, rather than allow the tag champion to expose the business for the sake of getting heat. Wildchild appears to be outsmarting Toxxic when he flips out of his handstand and pulls out a hurracanrana, but it’s really just another example of the false psychology of which this promotion is so often guilty, as is the remainder of this wasted opportunity of a match. What could have been a fine carry-job turns instead into a breathtaking, attractive, empty spotfest. Two stars out of five.”

 

He looks up at Toxxic, whose trademark crooked smile is nowhere to be found.

 

“That's how you think of me?" Toxxic asks. "Not a ‘smart worker’ like you and that twat Flesher?”

 

Pretzler hesitates. He clearly became carried away while reading the report. “No… look, I mean for this to help you. What I’m saying is… in the last match you failed to take advantage of many of Wildchild’s mistakes – it doesn’t make you a poor worker, you’re one of the best we have – and tonight, if you’re more alert and more careful, you can avoid that and wrestle a smarter match.”

 

“A smarter match?" Toxxic asks, faintly incredulous. "I bloody won, didn’t I? I beat him - I don’t recall you ever doing that.”

 

“Okay, you’re correct about that. Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. We’re a team, and what makes us better than all the other teams out there is the respect we show for each other. Right?”

 

“Right – so, do you want me to put on a technical clinic, or do you want me to win?”

 

“Well, the two go hand-in-hand. If you…” Do I want him to win. This is a Fatal Four-Way, and both members of Revolution Zero can’t win the match together. Is that what it will come down to? When Cortez and Wildchild have been neutralized, will Toxxic and Pretzler have to compete against one another? It shouldn’t be that way. Toxxic has been on a winning streak since forever, and Pretzler has been in a bit of a slump between losing and being injured. It’s clear which one of them truly needs the win. Toxxic must know it too. Would he give it up? Would he allow Pretzler to take the victory? Maybe before, but after the way he just reacted to Pretzler’s evaluation of his workrate…

 

Or maybe I’ve just been acting like an arrogant prick.

 

…

 

Nah.

 

 

“Alright, listen. This is what I’ve been thinking. I clearly need this victory tonight…”

[Ace309 0]

“We’re here in Idaho-”

 

“-and dear God is it boring,” Suicide King cuts Longdogger Pete off before the play-by-play man can get too into it. “Come on, the most interesting thing about Idaho is that it has the word ‘ho’ in the name.”

 

“That’s not true!” Pete protests. “Given time I’m sure I can think of something interesting about Idaho!”

 

A few seconds pass.

 

“Tell you what, let’s have the main event while we wait,” King sighs as the camera shifts to show the dapper-suited Funyon standing in the middle of the ring. The ring announcer raises the microphone to his lips and begins to speak in his sonorous voice.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is tonight’s MAIN EVENT~, scheduled for one fall and is a Fatal Four-Way match,” Funyon intones. “Introducing first, hailing from Hollywood Boulevard…”

 

…the lights go down and the pulsing beats of ‘Breathe’ by Fabulous start to thud out of the PA system, causing the capacity crowd to get to their feet and begin cheering. Green spotlights shine and strobe along the length of the arena, then-

 

*BOOOM!*

 

-pyro erupts up from the soundstage and the figure of Martial Law’s rising star appears and begins waving his arms to incite the crowd to yet greater volumes!

 

“…he weighs in at 226lbs and is a member of Martial Law,” Funyon continues, “the ‘Urban Legend’… TODD… CORRRR-TEEEEEZZZZZ!!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Cortez finishes pumping the crowd up and marches down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as he goes. One young fan has a large, hand-made sign proclaiming ‘MARTIAL LAW KICK ASS!’ which Todd pauses at briefly to take and point at, encouraging the camera to zoom in on the statement before handing it back and ruffling the kid’s hair.

 

“What a great role model Todd Cortez is for the young fans of the SWF,” Longdogger Pete states as the Urban Legend slides under the ropes and pops back up to his feet. “This young man-”

 

“-like Toxxic,” King cuts in.

 

“-holds his straight-edge beliefs close-” Pete continues doggedly.

 

“-like Toxxic.”

 

“-and has enjoyed considerable success-” Pete raises his voice slightly in an attempt to talk over his partner-

 

“-but not as much as Toxxic,” King finishes with satisfaction. “C’mon, he’s Toxx-Lite. What can he say that Toxxic can’t?”

 

“You can talk to him for five minutes without your skin itching?” Pete suggests acidly.

 

“Don’t blame Toxxic for your poor personal hygiene.”

 

Todd Cortez removes his cross and kisses it before handing it over the ropes to the timekeeper, and before inter-commentator bitching can proceed any further the distinctive opening to Redman’s ‘Let’s Get Dirty’ firing up over the PA system.

 

‘ATTENTION!’

 

‘ALL YOU NIGGAZ!’

 

‘ALL YOU BITCHES!’

 

‘TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…’

 

‘TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA…’

 

“And from the Bahamas,” Funyon booms as a distinctive figure with heavy black facepaint and his hair in braids bounces out onto the soundstage, “weighing in tonight at 214lbs; he is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions… WIIIIIILLLLLLLLD-CHIIIIIIILLLLLLLLD!!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

Wildchild salutes the fans as the entire Idaho Center rises to its feet in support of one of the most talented high-flyers in the SWF today. The Bahaman Bomber then tears down to the ring, completing a lap of honour and slapping hands with as many fans as he can before leaping into the ring and popping upright. He takes his tag belt off and hands it to referee Uriah Rennie before shaking hands with Funyon and exchanging a respectful, if not overtly friendly nod with Todd Cortez. The Urban Legend moves over to Wildchild and begins speaking to him quietly; the Tag Champion nods again and seems to be listening to his opponent.

 

“Look at those two, discussing strategy,” King protests, “they’re trying to get an unfair advantage!”

 

“What, you don’t think that the last two competitors in this match will have discussed strategy beforehand?” Pete snorts. “I doubt they’ve done much else for the last few days!”

 

Even as the Miami Menace finishes speaking the lights in the arena abruptly white out, as does the Smarktron. For a few moments all that can be heard is the faint *skritch-skritch* of a needle on vinyl. Then:

 

‘WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!’

 

The deep voice booms out over the Idaho Center and the crunching guitars of ‘Battle Ready’ by Otep immediately kick up. A few seconds later the drums come in and-

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

-lightning apparently spears down from the heavens to ignite a blast of red pyro on the entrance stage, further deafening the nearby fans. For a moment all that can be seen is smoke and flash afterimage, but then three figures appear.

 

“And from Toronto, Ontario, Canada,” Funyon booms, “weighing in at 226lbs and representing Revolution Zero, he is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion; ‘The Critic’, SCOTT… PRETZ-LERRRR!! And from Nottingham, England, weighing in at 218lbs and being accompanied by Jet; he is the leader of Revolution Zero and the SWF World Heavyweight Champion; ‘The Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXX-IIIIIIIIC!!”

 

Pretzler and Toxxic walk down the ramp side-by-side with Jet bringing up the rear. The Critic is wearing his usual ring attire of navy blue short tights while Toxxic is favouring his baggy trousers and his customised England soccer shirt in support of his country’s World Cup Qualifier against Azerbaijan that was played earlier in the evening.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“And here we have the villains of the piece,” Longdogger Pete asserts with no undue sense of drama, “Toxxic and Pretzler. Toxxic’s influence on this federation has been wide-ranging and unfortunate, and although several years older Pretzler appears to be trying to follow in his leader’s footsteps - only last show we saw him viciously assault Wildchild after Toxxic had used mace and brass knuckles to beat the Bahaman Bomber in a match!”

 

“But you’re forgetting, that match was No-DQ,” King points out. “The mace and brass knucks were legal!”

 

“Was the beatdown ‘legal’?” LDP protests as the three active members of Rev-0 enter the ring, Pretzler by climbing the steps and Toxxic by simply rolling under the bottom rope.

 

“Sure it was,” King asserts, “in fact I think it was even in Pretzler’s contract!” The Gambling Man rummages under the announce desk and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here we are… yes, see, I was right. ‘Under the Terms and Conditions’, blah blah blah… ‘you are contractually obliged to stiff the shit out of Wildchild.’”

 

“That’s your grocery bill!”

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

The match bell goes but all four men are still in the ring, uncertain who’s going to begin the match! Wildchild’s eyes are flicking between Toxxic and Pretzler, evidently wishing to get his hands on one or both of them as soon as possible. However, Todd Cortez steps up to him and speaks quietly again, and with bad grace Wildchild nods and steps through the ropes to the outside. Toxxic and Pretzler also hold a quick discussion, and after a few seconds it is The Critic who exits the ring and leaves the World Champion in to begin the match with the Urban Legend.

 

“This must be odd for Wildchild, not starting the match for once,” LDP comments.

 

“But this isn’t a tag match, it’s a Fatal Four-Way,” King reminds his commentary partner.

 

“Oh please,” Pete sneers, “you think Revolution Zero aren’t gonna treat this like a tag match?”

 

The two straight-edgers circle each other, neither one looking to make the first move. Toxxic cracks his neck from side-to-side, then cautiously starts to advance with his arms raised for a lock-up. Cortez seems willing to oblige… but then lashes out with a hard kick that cracks into the Brit’s left thigh!

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

Cortez smiles tightly at his fellow straight-edger and invites the World Champion in to try again. Toxxic’s eyes narrow as the Martial Law member mocks him and he moves in, but this time before Todd can react the Straight-Edge Sensation dives and rolls forward, picking Cortez’ right leg as he does so and coming up to his feet with Todd’s foot in his grasp and his opponent on his back! Toxxic immediately steps on Cortez’ right wrist to neutralise his arm, then releases his foot and takes hold of his trapped hand instead. As Todd tries to figure out what to do about this new angle of attack Toxxic rolls forward again, this time straight across the startled Urban Legend’s chest to bring him over onto his front, then quickly applies a Fujiwara armbar!

 

“Revolution one, Martial Law nil,” King smirks.

 

“You mean Revolution Zero,” Pete sniffs.

 

“Stop being so immature.”

 

Toxxic leans all his weight back, trying to hyperextend Cortez’ elbow and inflict as much pain as possible on Revolution Zero’s long-time nemesis/punching bag. Todd isn’t going to take this without a fight however, and he attempts to muscle his way up and out of the hold. Toxxic tries to hold him down but Cortez is determined and starts to push himself up to his feet. In order to try and maintain some sort of leverage advantage Toxxic is forced to rise with him, but before the Urban Legend can utilise his new position Toxxic shifts his grip and corkscrews himself through the air, twisting the arm in its socket and driving Cortez facefirst back into the canvas! Toxxic immediately looks around for Pretzler and finds the Critic only an arm’s length away, reaching over the top rope and waiting for the tag!

 

*smak!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Todd Cortez finds himself brought back up to his feet by not one but two pairs of hands; hands that quickly whip him off the far ropes! As he rebounds Toxxic and Pretzler leap into the air and hit a split-second-perfect double dropkick on the Martial Law member, then exchange a quick high-five as Toxxic steps back out through the ropes. The crowd are naturally incensed by this flouting of the spirit of competition, but Pretzler quickly reacts in the best way he knows how - applying a submission hold!

 

“BORR-ING!”

 

“Beautiful Octopus Stretch there,” Suicide King comments as Pretzler pretzels Cortez. “Much, much better than Mark’s.”

 

“Oh, be quiet…”

 

Scott Pretzler continues to twist at Todd Cortez’ arm as he cinches the standing Octopus Stretch in tight, but is also compressing the straight-edger’s ribs and wrenching his neck as hard as he can as well. Cortez struggles for all he’s worth but Pretzler’s technique is second to none in the current SWF and despite his best efforts the Martial Law member is going nowhere. Wildchild looks on with some concern as Pretzler torques the hold for all he’s worth; Cortez is a tough and resilient competitor, but on top of the risk of a sudden tap-out Wildchild is well aware of the consequences of being alone with two Rev-0 members should Cortez be taken out of the running early. Consequently it is one of Todd’s opponents who starts banging his hand on the turnbuckle in the hope of rallying the fans behind him.

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

The fans of Boise, Idaho are doing their vocal best but the Urban Legend is still in trouble. With one final effort to escape the punishing hold Todd Cortez simply throws himself backwards, overbalancing both him and Pretzler… but although they land with a bang the Critic grits his teeth and keeps his hold applied, and now Todd Cortez has played his last card!

 

“This one could be over real quick,” King comments. “I don’t think Todd Cortez is getting out of that one!”

 

Wildchild has other ideas, however. Before referee Rennie can so much as bark out an order to stop the Human Hurricane has not only vaulted to the top rope but jumped straight off to land a flying elbow in the sternum of Scott Pretzler! The impact causes the Critic to release his hold and Wildchild immediately scrambles back to his corner, then reaches his hand over the top rope to try and tag himself in. However, Cortez is having a bit of trouble breathing after the punishing Octopus Stretch and it is Pretzler who rises to his feet first. The Critic is half-winded himself but has no problem in berating Wildchild for his interference. Wildchild curtly answers back, his words drowned out by the crowd noise - and Scott Pretzler slaps him across the face, then ducks out through the ropes and indicates to Uriah Rennie that he made a tag! Rennie seems less than pleased at the disrespectful manner of it but reluctantly signals to the Bahaman Bomber that he is now the legal man and is at risk of being counted out. Grudgingly, the fuming Tag Champion steps through the ropes and looks at Todd Cortez, who has now pulled himself back up to his feet.

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

Crowd support is divided, but it is clear that the fans in attendance want one of these two men to win the match. Cortez raises his arms and invites Wildchild in for a lock-up, and despite his strength disadvantage the Bahaman Bomber obliges. The two hook up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, push at each other for a moment… then suddenly break apart and dash away to tag in Pretzler and Toxxic!

 

*smak!*

 

*smak!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Cortez and Wildchild step through the ropes, grinning from ear to ear as the two Revolution Zero members looks dubiously at each other from across the ring. Referee Rennie demands that they enter the ring and lock-up, audibly reminding the pair that they have to have physical contact before they can tag out.

 

“Wildchild and Cortez have outsmarted Revolution Zero,” Pete says, clearly pleased, “and now maybe we’ll see a truly competitive match!”

 

“You never outsmart Revolution Zero,” King insists, “you just get slightly less behind for a while.”

 

Toxxic and Pretzler stop in the middle of the ring, still clearly unsure what to do. Finally they shrug and shake hands… then immediately turn and run back to opposite corners to tag Cortez and Wildchild back in! However, the canny Bahaman Bomber and Urban Legend have dropped off the apron and Pretzler and Toxxic’s tagging hands swing at thin air!

 

“YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“PWNED~!” Pete shouts.

 

“…how do you pronounce that, exactly?” King asks curiously.

 

“You heard me!” the Longdogger replies.

 

Toxxic and Scott Pretzler turn and look each other with resignation on their faces. Under the disapproving stare of Uriah Rennie the reluctant stablemates advance on each other and raise their arms before plunging forwards into a lock-up. Both men push but Scott Pretzler seems to have the strength advantage and manages to slowly propel Toxxic back to a neutral corner. Rennie steps in and calls for the break the moment the Straight-Edge Sensation touches the ropes, and Scott Pretzler immediately obliges and backs off to allow his leader to come out of the corner. Toxxic does so, cracking his neck again and fixing the Critic with a steady gaze, then moves in for another lock-up… but this time Pretzler performs a single-leg takedown and dumps the Brit flat onto his back! The crowd begin to cheer this evidence of competition but stop in their tracks as Pretzler backs off and waits for his leader to rise. Toxxic does so, glaring at the Canadian, but then turns to the referee and begins complaining that Pretzler pulled his hair!

 

“What the…” Pete says in confusion. Some of the crowd are starting to catch on though, and a few scattered boos are heard in the Idaho Center.

 

Once more the two Revolution Zero members go for a lock-up, and this time Toxxic comes out on top by twisting out with an armwringer applied. Pretzler looks uncomfortable, but then the Straight-Edge Sensation wrenches the arm over his head for a second rotation and-

 

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

-Scott Pretzler yells in apparent agony. Toxxic pauses, looking confused, then reverses his movement back to the single twist and starts apologising to his stablemate. Pretzler waves the apologies away with a long-suffering look on his face, and now the crowd are really starting to get riled.

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“They’re not…” Pete trails off, then starts speaking again with renewed vigour. “They are! They’re making fun of this whole match!”

 

“Oh come on, isn’t it great?” King says, chuckling. “At least they’re enjoying themselves in there!”

 

Scott Pretzler has evidently had enough of Toxxic’s excruciatingly painful armwringer as he rolls through the hold and comes up to his feet before applying his own with such vigour that Toxxic somersaults forward and lands on his back. The Straight-Edge Sensation spins himself around on his back and manages to come to his feet behind the Critic, locking in a hammerlock as he goes. Pretzler is unfazed and manages to slip out of the hold, ending up behind Toxxic with a hammerlock applied to the World Champion. The Canadian then steps on the back of Toxxic’s knee to bring his leader down to a kneeling position before releasing the hammerlock to apply a cravate instead.

 

“Well, that’s a bit better…” Pete mutters, but the crowd is still unconvinced.

 

Toxxic reaches up and begins to prise at Scott Pretzler’s fingers, managing to unlock them and force the Cruiserweight Champion’s arms apart before snapping sideways and taking the Canadian over with an armdrag! Pretzler comes back to his feet quickly but Toxxic is far faster and takes him over with another armdrag, then as Scott wobbles up slightly unsteadily Toxxic grabs him with a headlock and pops his hips to take the Critic over onto his back.

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!” the fans chant, but it now sounds to be more motivated by generic hatred rather than the outrage of a paying spectator who is being made fun of.

 

Scott Pretzler is unused to being on his back on the mat, and it quickly shows; the Critic wraps both arms around Toxxic’s torso and uses what leverage he can to roll the slightly lighter Brit onto his own back so his shoulders touch down! Uriah Rennie dives to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

-but Toxxic manages to escape the pinning combination and get back up to a sitting position, only for Pretzler to reach up with his legs and apply a headscissors. He literally pulls Toxxic off until the Brit has his head well and truly trapped between Pretzler’s legs. Unfazed, Toxxic leans his weight forward and performs a headstand, then jerks backwards and ‘pops’ his head free before diving forwards at Pretzler - but the Critic simply snares him in a headlock and takes him over! Some of the more technical-minded crowd members applaud the Canadian’s quick-thinking as he squeezes the head of his leader… but then Toxxic reaches up a finger and taps him on the shoulder. Pretzler immediately releases his grip and the two men sit up and begin an earnest discussion, seemingly going over their upcoming moves as the crowd goes rabid.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“I don’t believe this,” Pete says, placing his head in his hands. “The main event of Lockdown and they’re clowning around…”

 

“Oh, tell me the Carnival didn’t pull this from time to time!” Suicide King snaps, then adds “and mean it!” as Pete opens his mouth again.

 

With their conversation apparently finished Toxxic lies back down and Scott Pretzler reapplies the headlock! This of course simply riles the crowd up to even greater fury, but the two Revolution Zero members couldn’t seem to care less; this time it is Toxxic who reaches up with his legs to apply a headscissors to Pretzler and pulls the Critic off him, but instead of trying to free himself from his leader’s grasp Scott simply bridges forwards and lands on top of the straight-edger for a pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Toxxic wraps his arms around Pretzler’s waist and bridges up, then twists around to take the Canadian down with a backslide!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pretzler kicks out and both men get to their feet… then pause for another brief discussion!

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

However, in the midst of the abuse Pretzler suddenly moves, jabbing Toxxic in the chest with his index finger! The World Champion topples backwards like a fallen… well, sapling really… and Pretzler draws his thumb across his throat in the universal symbol for the end! Grabbing Toxxic’s right ankle the Critic begins to spin, applying the submisison known throughout the world as the Spinning Toehold! Toxxic immediately begins to yell in pain and pound the canvas…

 

“OW!” the Straight-Edge Sensation bellows at the top of his lungs. “OUCH! YOU’RE HURTING!”

 

“Please God, make it stop…” the Longdogger pleads while King nearly chokes on his popcorn from laughter.

 

“ARRGH! JESU-” Toxxic begins, then casts a quick look at Todd Cortez and changes his mind. “MYTHICAL SON OF AN OUTMODED THEOLOGICAL CONCEPT!” the Brit yells instead, confusing most of the audience but undoubtedly pissing Cortez off even further. However, even the straight-edge conditioning of the World Champion can take only so much, and after his atheistic expression of pain Toxxic slumps backwards, apparently passing out. Uriah Rennie clearly doesn’t believe it at all, but Pretzler is demanding that he check Toxxic and with a grumbled complaint the SWF official moves forward to do his job. He raises Toxxic’s arm once…

 

…and it falls limply to the canvas.

 

“Wait a minute…” Pete hisses as Wildchild and Cortez exchange startled glances.

 

Surprised, Rennie raises Toxxic’s black-nailed hand once more and lets it drop…

 

…and once more, it tumbles to the mat. Sighing, the referee raises it one more time-

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

-and Wildchild springs over the top rope and charges at Pretzler, determined to avoid the screwjob ending! Unfortunately for the man from the Bahamas Pretzler was expecting him, and the Cruiserweight Champion whirls around to floor his Number One Contender with a lariat! Meanwhile Cortez has also stepped into the ring and started to charge, but with his leg newly released by his stablemate Toxxic wastes no time in completing a ‘miraculous’ recovery by kipping up and then launching himself back into the air to take the onrushing Cortez down with a spinning heelkick!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“It was a setup! A damn setup!” Pete yells in anger as the two Rev-0 members flash a grin at each other before turning back to their downed opponents. “They knew that would sucker Cortez and Wildchild in! Who booked this match, anyway!?”

 

*cough*Raynor[/i][/i]*cough*[/i][/i]

 

“I should have known it would be one of yours,” Pete hisses.

 

“I said nothing,” King replies smugly.

 

Pretzler and Toxxic have both dragged their respective opponents up to a vertical base, then begin pounding them with right hands! Moments later the two Revolution Zero representatives grab Wildchild and Cortez and go to Irish whip them diagonally across the ring and into each other, but Wildchild manages to reverse the move on Pretzler and it is the Critic and the Urban Legend who collide head-on in the middle of the ring! Toxxic looks shocked for a moment but not for long as Wildchild runs forward, vaults off the back of the stunned Pretzler and nails the Straight-Edge Sensation with a leg lariat!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

Wildchild immediately pops back to his feet and leaps into the air, hitting a standing moonsault on the downed World Champion and hooking the leg for the pin… but Uriah Rennie angrily reminds the Bahaman Bomber that he is not the legal man! Frustrated, Wildchild jumps back up and grabs Scott Pretzler to drag the Critic to the nearest corner, then steps outside the ropes and officially tags himself in before leaping back into the ring and heading for Toxxic! The Brit is still doubled-over as he rises from the mat, so Wildchild leaps into the air and-

 

*WHAM!*

 

“-Caribbean Cutter!” Longdogger Pete shouts as the Bahaman uses his right leg to drive Toxxic’s face into the canvas. Wildchild rolls Toxxic over and goes for the pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-broken up by Todd Cortez! The crowd don’t know whether to cheer or boo that, so they settle for a mixture as Wildchild gets back to his feet and angrily shoves the Urban Legend. Cortez shoves back, arguing that it’s still every man for himself… and Toxxic takes Wildchild over with a schoolboy!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

-broken up by Cortez again! This time he brings Toxxic back up to his feet and wraps an arm around the neck of the World Champion before dropping to his knees into the Cereal Killer, a move that sends the Brit rolling away across the ring in agony… but Cortez is brought up short by Uriah Rennie who reminds him that he is not legal either, and must leave the ring! Todd protests but unwillingly obliges as Wildchild scampers after the pained Toxxic and hooks him up, then rolls into a La Magistral cradle…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHRRR-

-but Toxxic kicks out again! Wildchild wastes no time and fires off a right hand into his opponent’s ribs as Toxxic rises to his knees, then hooks the Brit in a front facelock and brings him up to his feet. The Bahaman Bomber takes a moment to set himself before hoisting Toxxic up and spinning around, then dumping the straight-edger down with the Corkscrew Suplex. With the World Champion on his back Wildchild runs to a neutral corner and springs to the top rope in one fluid motion, then flies off and twists through the air before crashing down with the Andros Drop!

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Wildchild quickly hooks the leg for the pin and Uriah Rennie drops to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRR-

-but Todd Cortez breaks it up again!

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

Todd starts to retreat to the outside having completed his task, but Wildchild isn’t happy with the Urban Legend’s interference and nails him with a forearm in the back! Cortez is staggered but not toppled by the blow and he whips around to face the Caribbean Cruiserweight, then lashes out with a-

 

*CRACK!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

-knife-edge chop! Wildchild stumbles back and Todd fires off two more-

 

*CRACK!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

*CRACK!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

-then scoots behind the stunned Tag Champion and hoists him up and over with a nasty Backdrop Driver that plants Wildchild’s head into the canvas, driving him down onto the same neck injured by the Tildebang Driver on Storm! Uriah Rennie is yelling at Cortez to quit the ring which Todd seems inclined to do, but then he sees Scott Pretzler charging out of the corner of his eye and-

 

*WHAP!*

 

-floors the incoming Cruiserweight Champion with an inch-perfect superkick!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

Todd looks around to see if anyone else wants some, and his eyes happen to light on Toxxic as the Brit pushes himself up to his feet. Toxxic isn’t facing him and Cortez drops to a crouch, waiting for the World Champion to begin to turn around as Rennie tries to protest, then wisely gets the hell out of the way. Toxxic stumbles around… and Cortez explodes forwards, driving his shoulder into the side of the Straight-Edge Sensation’s ribcage with the Hollow Point!

 

“COR-TEZ!”

 

“COR-TEZ!”

 

“Todd Cortez is cleaning house here,” Longdogger Pete shouts, but Suicide King cuts him off.

 

“-the trouble is, he’s not the legal man,” the Heartbreaker reminds his commentary partner. Uriah Rennie is now ushering Cortez towards the apron, but the Urban Legend has no mind to see his hard work go to waste. He quickly grabs Wildchild’s ankle and drags the still-dazed Bahaman Bomber over to the corner, then pulls exactly the same trick as Wildchild did with Pretzler earlier by climbing through the ropes and immediately tagging himself into the match! Cortez re-enters the ring with Rennie unable to stop him and instantly focuses on his most recent victim, the World Heavyweight Champion! Toxxic is lying on his back clutching his ribs and Todd sprints forward, hurdling over the recumbent leader of Revolution Zero before springing to the second rope and backflipping off with a beautiful quebrada!

 

*BANG!!*

 

Cortez quickly hooks the leg and Uriah Rennie drops to the floor to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRR-

-broken up by Pretzler!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Cortez should have been more careful there,” Suicide King tuts, “he didn’t make sure that Pretzler had left the ring after he shamelessly assaulted him earlier.”

 

“Shamelessly!? Pretzler was attacking him from behind!” Pete protests, but King waves it away.

 

However, Scott Pretzler’s head is evidently still ringing from the superkick and although able to break the pin he doesn’t seem to be up to taking his intervention any further. Cortez drags him up to his feet and measures him, then nails him in the mouth with a sickening forearm smash! Scott staggers back but doesn’t go over, and Cortez suddenly realises that Toxxic is struggling his feet behind him. Well aware that he can’t let Revolution Zero get the drop on him even in their current state Cortez fires off a blow to Toxxic’s jaw as well which causes the World Champion’s legs to buckle alarmingly. Pretzler comes back for another go and Cortez hits him again…

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

…then nails Toxxic…

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

…then Pretzler, sending the Critic staggering into the ropes…

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

*CRACK!*

 

…then the Urban Legend leaves his feet to send an enzuigiri whipping into the back of Toxxic’s head, dropping the Straight-Edge Sensation face-first to the mat…

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

…and as Scott Pretzler rebounds dizzily off the ring ropes Cortez leaps up and snares him with a hurricanrana, sending the Critic skidding across the canvas to end in a crumpled heap in a neutral corner!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Todd Cortez is taking it to Revolution Zero single-handedly,” Longdogger Pete enthuses, “and finally Martial Law are getting some revenge!”

 

With Pretzler apparently out of commission for the moment Cortez turns his attention back to the legal man, Toxxic. A tight grin spreads over the face of the Urban Legend as he pulls the World Champion up to his feet, then bends him over into a standing headscissors… and draws a thumb across his throat. This time, it really will be the end.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“He’s going for the Riot Act Plus!” Pete shouts in realisation. “Imagine the result if Todd Cortez got the winning pin on Toxxic!”

 

“His life expectancy would be severely shortened?” King asks, but his heart isn’t in it. Cortez sets himself…

 

…and Toxxic abruptly grab him behind the knees and pushes, trying to destabilise his opponent! Cortez wobbles but manages to keep his feet, then lands a punishing forearm blow into the middle of his fellow straight-edger’s back. One more and Todd is ready to try again, but just as he jumps forward Toxxic tries a different approach - the World Champion attempts to back bodydrop his way out of the move, giving Todd more height than he was expecting. And as he flies forward, legs still wrapped around Toxxic’s head, Cortez sees Scott Pretzler charging towards him in an attempt to block the move. Cortez has already left his feet of course, but Pretzler can improvise with the best of them and as Cortez begins to plunge towards the canvas he snares him in a front facelock-

 

*BAM!*

 

-and drills Todd Cortez into the mat with a self-inflicted implant DDT!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“PRETZ-LER SUCKS!”

 

“PRETZ-LER SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic, now on his back, looks around to see his fellow Revolutionary giving him a weary thumbs-up. Toxxic returns the signal but Uriah Rennie abruptly hoves into view, demanding that Pretzler leaves the ring this instant! The Critic obeys as fast as possible, meaning that when Toxxic turns Todd Cortez over to lay the pin on him Rennie is undistracted and able to count the-

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“He kicked out!” Pete shouts, winning the All-Idaho Obvious Statement Award. “Somehow, Todd Cortez kicked out of that devastating DDT!” The Miami Menace’s face takes on a more serious cast as he continues “however, the fact that Pretzler was willing to let Toxxic take the pin shows that Revolution Zero are still treating this as a tag match!”

 

“It’s called being a team player,” Suicide King informs him, “as long as Toxxic or Pretzler wins, what does it matter which one gets it? Either way, Revolution Zero come out on top!”

 

Toxxic’s thinking isn’t really on advanced tactics at the moment, however. Todd Cortez has kicked out, and right now the Straight-Edge Sensation has been on the receiving end of punishment from both Cortez and Wildchild. Toxxic knows that he might be able to grab Todd Cortez and pick up the win, but right now Scott Pretzler is standing and looking in a far better condition to do so. Gritting his teeth, Toxxic starts to shuffle forwards in an attempt to tag his stablemate into the match.

 

Meanwhile, Todd Cortez looks up woozily after landing hard on his head. He doesn’t even see Toxxic moving next to him; instead his vision focuses on Wildchild pulling himself upright in the corner. Cortez knows very well that he is the one who just dropped Wildchild on his head but he also knows that he won’t last long against a combined Revolution Zero onslaught, and with no way of knowing if one is coming he starts to move towards the Bahaman Bomber, seeking to at least put someone else in the way.

 

‘ONE!’ referee Uriah Rennie shouts, although quite what he’ll do if he gets to ten is unclear. It’s probably more of a comfort thing.

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

‘TWO!’

 

“LET’S GO COR-TEZ!”

 

‘THREE!’

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

The chants are changing now as Cortez edges closer to the corner where Wildchild has his hand reached over the rope, awaiting the tag. The Human Hurricane is just as well aware as Cortez who’s responsible for his current headache, but he has no desire to see Rev-0 take the Urban Legend apart and pick up the easy win. He also knows just who Toxxic is about to tag into the match, and it’s someone he’s been itching to get his hands on…

 

*smak!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

*smak!*

 

“YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“It’s Wildchild!” Pete bellows a an exhausted Cortez rolls under the bottom rope and drops to the arena floor, “it’s Pretzler! It’s breaking down!!”

 

Wildchild streaks across the ring, the ache in his neck subsumed by a sudden rush of adrenaline. The Caribbean Cruiserweight leaves his feet and seems to almost fly through the air, taking Pretzer down with a leg lariat…

 

*BANG!*

 

…then another one…

 

*BANG!*

 

…then nails him with a flying forearm!

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

Pretzler is visibly shaken by this high-octane offence but starts to struggle up, getting as far as one knee before a human missile streaks overhead and grabs him, pulling his head down into the canvas with the Whiplash!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Wildchild quickly rolls Scott Pretzler over onto his back and hooks the leg, leaning into the cover as much as he can…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

…Toxxic realises what’s going on and tries to scramble back through the ropes to prevent it…

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Scott Pretzler kicked out and Toxxic relaxes, not even halfway to the cover, but Wildchild wastes no time with questioning the referee. Instead the Bahaman Bomber grabs the Critic’s short blonde hair, occasioning a warning from Uriah Rennie, and hauls the Canadian back to his feet before booting him in the stomach. Wildchild then turns his back on his opponent, hooks his arms underneath Pretzler’s and twists around again, hoisting the Cruiserweight Champion up onto his back in a head-down position…

 

“Wild Ride!” LDP shouts, “Pretzler’s felt this before!”

 

…but not this time. Scott Pretzler kicks his legs and manages to destabilise himself, then falls forward to land his feet on the mat. His arms are a bit twisted but before Wildchild can react the Critic straightens up and forces his hands up and together behind the Bahaman Bomber’s head, trapping him in a double chickenwing! A moment later the ache in Wildchild’s neck has returned with interest as-

 

*BANG!*

 

“Tiger Suplex!” King shouts. “It’s over!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

…after a moment of indecision, Toxxic once more steps through the ropes as Todd Cortez looks wearily up from the arena floor…

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!”

 

Scott Pretzler can’t believe that Wildchild just managed to roll a shoulder off the canvas, but his confusion grows even more as he turns around to see Toxxic halfway across the ring towards him. The Straight-Edge Sensation simply points out to the floor where Todd Cortez is starting to rise to his feet, as if to say that he was going to cut off any attempt the Urban Legend might make to break up the pin, but Pretzler still looks doubtful. However, with the match still hanging in the balance he grabs both of Wildchild’s wrists, locks the Tag Champion’s arms around his own throat and sits down on his back in the Snowflake Clutch!

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

“No good chanting that,” King cackles, “he has no choice! That hold makes everyone tap, if it doesn’t break their damn neck first!”

 

“That’s assuming Toxxic remembers his ‘team player’ responsibilities…” Pete says as the World Champion looks down at the back of his stablemate’s head. Todd Cortez isn’t in any doubt however and he begins to climb into the ring-

 

*BANG!*

 

-only to be met by a Toxxic baseball slide that knocks him clean back out again! Pretzler grins at his leader as he wrenches back on Wildchild’s arms while Uriah Rennie asks again and again if the Bahaman Bomber wishes to give up… and the eyes of Toxxic and Pretzler lock.

 

And slowly, the grin fades from Scott Pretzler’s face. Everyone knows Toxxic takes it very hard when he loses, and even if Pretzler picks up the win for Revolution Zero, that will still go down - technically - as a loss for Toxxic.

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

Toxxic breaks into a sprint that will quickly cover the few yards separating them.

 

“Here we go…” Pete cries in anticipation.

 

Scott Pretzler shuts his eyes and braces for impact…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

…and Toxxic runs straight past him. The World Champion hits the far ropes behind his stablemate, rebounds off and heads back across the ring at increased speed before somersaulting over the top and landing flush on Todd Cortez with an inch-perfect Tope Con Hilo!

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Scott Pretzler breathes again, but Wildchild knows that all hope of rescue has gone. The Tag Champion tries his best to hold out, but it’s simply no good. Scott Pretzler has the hold perfectly applied, and there is nowhere to go.

 

‘Wildchild! Do you give up!?’ Uriah Rennie shouts one more time…

 

…

 

‘Urk! No!’

 

…

 

‘No…’

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

‘YES!’

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The stirring strains of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony ring out across the Idaho Center, and the fans rise to their feet as one and begin hurling verbal abuse at the ring. Toxxic has struggled back to his feet and rolled underneath the bottom rope, but Scott Pretzler has refused to release the hold and is still pulling with all his might.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms, “SCOTT PRETZ-LEEERRRRRR!!”

 

Uriah Rennie grabs Pretzler’s arm and tries to make him let go but every tug the referee makes only seems to hurt Wildchild more as the Caribbean quickly slips towards unconsciousness. However, after a few seconds a firmer, black-nailed grip shakes Pretzler’s shoulder and the Cruiserweight Champion looks up into the dark-rimmed eyes of the leader of Revolution Zero. A lopsided grin crawls over the Straight-Edge Sensation’s face which Pretzler returns… and then he releases the hold, dropping Wildchild to the mat.

 

“This is not in the spirit of competition,” Longdogger Pete complains, “this is not what this match was meant to be about! Wildchild and Todd Cortez fought against the odds as long as they could, but in the end the teamwork of Revolution Zero - in a match where there were meant to be no alliances - was just too much to overcome!”

 

“I think you’ve missed the significance of what’s just gone on here,” Suicide King drawls. “We just saw Toxxic take out Todd Cortez to let Pretzler pick up the win - when have you ever seen Toxxic put something before his desire to win a match, let alone handing the win to someone else?”

 

“Fans, that’s all we have time for from Lockdown, but be sure to join us again for Smarkdown,” Longdogger Pete shills. “Until then - PEEEAAAAACCCCEEEE!!”

 

The last camera shot shows Toxxic and Scott Pretzler walking together up the ramp with Jet leading the way. As the booing of the crowd rises in volume the two men turn and face the ring, and Toxxic grabs Pretzler’s hand and raises it in victory, then emphasises it by pointing to The Critic with his other hand.

 

“PRETZ-LER SUCKS!”

 

“PRETZ-LER SUCKS!”

 

As the crowd continues to jeer, Toxxic and Pretzler unbuckle the title belts that they had refastened around their waists and raise them high into the air.

 

Cruiserweight Champion…

 

World Heavyweight Champion…

 

…and more than that, now unquestionably a team. Sacred and Spike Jenkins may be gone, Sean Davis may be out of action, but as of tonight in Boise, Idaho, one fact remains unquestionable.

 

 

The Revolution lives on.

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT…

 

 

© 2005 Smarks Wrestling Federation

‘Raising Workrate By Spanking Supes’