chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 Sean Davis stands in his locker room, even though he is not booked, he does his routine stretches. For a big man in this business, you have to stay as limber as possible. Things haven’t been going well for the big man. He lost a “friendly-contest” to the man formerly known as Toxxic and things didn’t go well for his team on Smarkdown when Mike Van Siclen came in with a steel chair. Not to mention “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins. The man Sean Davis has declared war with. Every time he goes after Spike, the little runt runs away. But he has a surprise for Jenkins…a surprise that everyone will soon find out… *Buzz* *Buzz* *Buzz* Davis is startled by the sound of his cell phone going off. He rushes over to his gym bag, unzipping it and pulling out the device. He flips it open and presses it to his ear. “A voice mail? From who?” The voice on the other line is a familiar, female voice. A voice Davis hasn’t heard in a long time. “Coming here? Tonight? But…Shit…” Davis clicks off the phone and quickly dials a new number. He again presses it to his ear, waiting for the unknown person to pick up…but it just continues to ring. “Damn it…why is she coming here? Why would she fly all the way out here? I need to see her…” Sean flips his phone shut, stuffs it into his pocket and storms out of the room, waiting for the arrival of the women from his past… Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 SWF Lockdown Card @ Tiennamen Square - Beijing, China Date: 31st May 2006. Viewing Times: 6:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings. The SWF rolls into China like the tanks nearly rolled over the man, and comes to you LIVE from Tiananmen Square! Main Event - Tag Title Defence JJ Johnson © & Spike Jenkins © vs The New Doomtopians Description: JJ and Spike are the tag team champions who probably, really, don't like each other. Jimmy the Doom and his Doomtopian enforcer are two beers shy of a six pack when it comes to IQ, but somehow they've gotten themselves a tag title match. Will Johnkins retain or will Doomtopia take the tag titles away and replace them with belts of the sacred Doomtopian yak? Rules: Standard tag match - remember the tag ropes. --- Hardcore Match Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © vs Manson Description: So, last show Landon, the self-proclaimed best in the wrestling business, failed to beat Zyon in a non-title match. This has made the Cockroach VERY ANGRY. And when Landon Maddix gets VERY ANGRY, people die! Here's to hoping the Cockroach blows off some steam in his battle against the power of Mansonosity, and doesn't kill someone. Rules: There are no rules, cowards! --- International Title Defence Wildchild vs Aecas © Description: JJ Johnson held the International title. Wildchild wanted to take the title from JJ. Aecas beat JJ before Wildchild could. Thus, while having a grudge with JJ to be consummated at a later date, the Carribean Cruiser's eyes are on the gold. But can he pry it from the hands of the Briton who long ago took his tag title? Rules: Straight singles match. --- Random Singles Match I Michael Stephens vs David Cross Description: Michael Stephens, the man many people knew as Toxxic, accepted the terms of engagement from Landon Maddix to face him at 13th Hour in yet ANOTHER Last Man Standing match. In the meantime, Mr Stephens is pitted against Mr Cross, so he can test his game and make sure he's up to scratch against the Cockroach come the time of the thirteenth toll. Rules: Singles match (of gaiety!) --- House Rules: The May 31st Movement Tag Match! Bruce Blank & Bloodshed vs Zyon © & Akira "The Divine Wind" Kaibatsu Description: Once upon a time, there were tanks going through Tiennamen Square. Once upon a time, a man stood up against those tanks. Apparently someone pulled him out of the way, but this is only loose filler motivation for our tag-team match under house rules! Bruce Blank and his new partner Bloodshed go up against the lightning-fast Zyon and Akira, in one of the more interesting stipulations to involve actual wrestling! Rules: For this match, the ring will be sitting atop a tank that will be travelling in circles around Tiennamen Square. This tank will be flanked by two other tanks, each of which is a "corner" for one team. While two men wrestle in the ring, their partners stand on the tanks moving alongside the ring. Tags work the same way as always - lean out to tag your partner, and he jumps to the middle tank to the ring, while the man leaving now leaps to the "corner" tank. Standard tag rules otherwise, pinfall/submission win. God help you if you get thrown over the top rope. --- Opener Random Singles Match II Tom Flesher vs Grendel Description: Flesher wants cruisers! Grendel is cruiser (ish)! They do BIG BATTEL! Rules: Good old cruiserweight rules! You know them by now. --- Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 Flesher vs. Grendel to be edited in. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 We’re backstage in the Blanks dressing room where we see Wayne talk to someone off camera, most likely Bruce as Wayne is holding up a beer and Bruce’s cowboy hat “Come on Bro have a beer before the match, you always have one” Wayne pleads “. . .” “Hey man I found your hat, yeah you probably thought you lost it didn’t you?” Wayne says with a smile and then goes to put it on Bruce’s head. But before he can places it a large hand shoots out from off camera grabbing Wayne by the wrist “. . .” “Alright, aright no hat, fair enough, that’s cool” Wayne says even though his eyes quite clearly say that it’s NOT alright. There is a knock on the door and then Bloodshed enters without waiting for a reply. “Is he going to be alright for the night?” he asks in a ton that doesn’t reveal much sympathy. “He’ll be alright” Wayne mumbles half heartedly “he’ll be alright, he was alright last week wasn’t he” he repeats almost as if to reassure himself. “Hopefully he’ll be more help than last week, I mean a kick to the head and that’s it? I was expecting more from this guy” Bloodshed says with a hint of disappointment. “It wasn’t his best show alright? He’s been gone a while. . . they did lord knows what to him and all, he’ll be alright I promise” Wayne says with very little conviction “See that he is, the King of Pain I can use as a tag-team partner, this. . . “ Bloodshed gestures to Bruce in his current state “This I got no use for at all.” Wayne turns and looks at, he can see Bloodshed’s concerns but damn it he held the Ultraviolent title for 213 days, he’ll bounce back and be the same old Bruce Blank that gladly stepped inside an exploding cage at “Clusterfuck”, the man that suffered through Pandemonium and won – he’d get through this Wayne turns around to tell Bloodshed all this but he’s gone “Hello? Bloodshed?. . . hellooooooooooooo??” Wayne just shrugs his shoulders and then turns back towards Bruce. He flips through a wrestling magazine and then finds a picture of Akira Kaibatus and Zyon together in the ring and then shows it to Bruce. “See? See this Bruce? Yeah that’s you guys opponents tonight – that’s right Akira, you remember him right? And Zyon? ” Wayne says with a smile as he gives Bruce the magazine “And what’s more is that if you win this they won’t be able to deny you a shot at the SWF tag-team titles. . . no matter who holds them after tonight” At first it’s totally quiet in the locker room, then suddenly we hear a low, rumbling ominous laughter from Bruce. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 Claka~taka!- Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka! “What can we say, ladies and gentlemen…not much, since hardly any of you people know English!” The voice of the Suicide King can be heard over the sound of a tank pulling into the square as SWF Lockdown returns from commercial, the Gambling Man himself standing up at the booth, turning his attention to the fans behind him. They cheer. “Calm down, King, we got too much to get through tonight.” From beside him, Mak’s chair squeaks and he spins himself side-to-side, looking out over the Square and down at the three tanks that have positioned themselves together at the edge of the area. Six men stand, two on one tank, two on another, Funyon and referee Mathew Kivell standing in the ring in the center. “女士们和先生们, 以下比赛预定在一个秋天和是议院规则比赛!!!!” “What the (bleep)?” “It looks like Funyon ate some babelfish at lunch today.” Mak replies as the crowd around the Square erupts. “首先介绍到我左边, 介入在一联合的三百九十五磅... "独特的青年时期" ZYOOOOON 和"神的风" AKIIIIIRA KAIBAAAAAATSU!" The team of Akira and Zyon both raise their hands to acknowledge the fact that they heard their names and not much else. It appears that Akira mouths “present”, which prompts a look from his partner before Funyon continues… “并且对我的右边, 他们的对手, 介入在一联合的五百和二十五磅... 痛苦的"The 国王" BRUCE BLAAAANK 和 BLOOOOOODSHED.... THE DEAD PRECEDENTS!!” “The what?” “That was in English, King” “But…the what now?” King responds as Funyon takes his time to climb from the ring and down a small ladder on the back of the center tank while they’re still parked. Both Zyon and Akira look over to their opponents and watch as Bloodshed leaps from their team take over the top rope and hits the ring, bouncing a bit, a smile beaming on his face. “Bloodshed in the ring to start the match now, let’s see…it seems Akira is coming in now for the other side.” Mak calls and Akira hits the ring, calling for referee Kivell to ring the bell. Kivell motions off into the distance, the camera catching a large man swinging a giant club into a huge gong… *GOOOOOOONG!* “And the match, I assume, is under-what the hell?” King says as Akira bursts forward with tremendous speed, heading at Bloodshed like a divine shot in the dark, only for Bloodshed to quickly lean his right hand back over the ropes, tagging in his partner and flipping his body over to the other tank once more just as all the tanks begin to move, shaking the five men slightly. Akira hits the brakes, stepping back slightly as Bruce Blank makes his move to step as gingerly as he can from one tank to the other and then through the ropes and into the ring and then stares down at his much smaller opponent. “Akira had it in his head that he could match the maniacal Bloodshed toe-to-toe, but we all know from the past that Bruce has never been the easiest man for Akira to take out.” Francis comments as Bruce stands tall in the ring, motioning for Akira to give it his best shot, the former Ultraviolent champion inching closer to his opponent. Across the ring, Zyon begins to motion for a pow-wow, yelling over the sounds of the moving tanks. Akira turns his attention to his partner… *SMACK!* …and catches a right hand to the back of his head! “Zyon just got his partner’s head nearly dented in, there! That’s not smart tag team wrestling at all!” “That idiot shouldn’t have taken his eye off his opponent! He deserved it!” King laughs as Akira stumbles to keep on his feet as the monster Blank follows him, reaching out his hand and clutching onto the back of the Divine Wind’s mask, pulling him away from the ropes and back to his own corner, throwing him into the turnbuckle with brutal authority! “And as Bruce Blank takes control early on, we witness one big problem with this kind of match…” Mak remarks as the tanks turn a corner, the two outside tanks separating from the center, leaving the two men in the ring along and away from their partner as they all make the turn and then form back together as Akira catches a series of hard knees to his chest. As Akira slumps in the corner, Bruce backs up a few feet and rushes in as quick as his southern feet can muster, slamming himself into Kaibatsu with his own kind of force, the collision dropping the smaller wrestler to the canvas. “My god! Akira is a long way from home base and he might have just got those numbers imprinted onto his mask.” “Talk about leaving a mark, eh, Mak?” King motions to the steel carriage of his partner as a steady camera on the Bloodshed-occupied tank shows Blank smiling wide, his yellow teeth doing more to make fans sick than upset as Akira is dragged to his feet and pulled to the center of the ring. With a loud and completely American grunt-slash-burp, Bruce turns his body and whips Akira into the ropes. The former Cruiserweight champion slingshoots off them and coming back with a burst of speed! BIG BOOT! NOOO! “Akira with a beautiful slide underneath the giant foot of Blank, he’s gotta turn arou—OOH!” Mak runs through the action as Akira slides out of harm’s way and then pops to his feet, his body spinning like a top, his right leg catching the back of the big man’s right knee! Blank stumbles, his balance thrown off as he turns to face Akira… *SMACK!* “…and a beautiful dropkick to the chest of Bruce Blank!” Blank falls back into the ropes but instantly bounces off and before Akira can react he’s flipped inside out and backwards by a huge lariat from Blank! “OOOOOOO!” The crowd around the Square can be heard loud and clear as Zyon begins reaching for his partner, only for the tanks to begin another turn as Akira begins to roll, separating himself from his partner while Bruce moves to his corner, keeping his eye on both his partner and his opponent’s movement as the tanks make the turn and begin to come back toward each other. “Look at Bruce Blank over there, he looks like he wants a beer.” Calls the Suicide King as Blank reaches out just as Bloodshed comes back into range, the self-proclaimed ‘bloody prophet’ slapping the outstretched hand and climbing into the ring, replacing his larger partner as Akira crawls toward his corner. “Had Akira even been able to make it to his corner seconds ago, he would have found nothing but open air waiting for him thanks to the turns these tanks have to make or risk plowing through a crowd of spectators” “No loss, probably why Bruce just let him lie there” King mutters as Akira’s quest for a tag is stopped short, the fresh Bloodshed catching him by the leg and dragging him back across the ring, doing his best to cut the two men off from each other and keep the Divine Wind trapped. Akira rolls his body mid-way through the pull and sends his left leg kicking out, catching Bloodshed in the wrist and causing him to break the hold. Kivell stays close on the two as Akira works to get to his feet, shaking off a forearm to his back and catching Bloodshed by the arm as turns, whipping him across the ring… REVERSED!! NOO! REVERSED AGAIN!! Bloodshed’s body strikes his opponent’s corner hard, his body bouncing off as Akira runs in, looking to take his opponent… *SMACK!* …and Bloodshed goes down, his body unable to get out of the way of the quicker Akira and the spinning leg lariat putting him down on the canvas as Akira hits his corner, finally able to tag in his partner mid air before his momentum propels him forward into the turnbuckles and then back, his body falling back to the canvas blindly “GUUUUUH!” Zyon leaps over the top rope and into the ring as Akira crashes down on top of Bloodshed. Bloodshed’s partner looks on from across the ring as the Unique Youth, the freshest in the fight, pulls his opponent up and throws him back into the corner, sending a barrage of kicks into Bloodshed’s stomach and chest as Akira exits the ring, crosses the small gap between the two tanks and sits down on the platform to rest as Zyon takes over. “Akira wasn’t expecting to face the giant so early, and it looks to have taken a bit out of him” Mak calls as Akira shakes off the last few minutes while Bruce watches on from across the ring, wanting nothing more than to jump into the fray, a demented smile still on his face even with Bloodshed currently on the defensive. “Bruce Blank isn’t worried, look at him. He knows that psychopath can take care of things” King remarks as Zyon sends one last kick into Bloodshed’s stomach, dropping him down into the corner. With his hands gripping the top rope, Zyon shoots himself into the air and swings his body back down like a pendulum, his feet burying themselves into Bloodshed’s chest! “Zyon with that unique dropkick, and he has to wonder what he is doing riding on the back of that tank after defeating Landon Maddix only a few days ago, especially with his partner being a man he’s faced off against in the past!” “This is House Rules, Francis! They do not care what Zyon’s accomplished this week, last week, or any week. Hell, Bloodshed’s beaten Landon Maddix a few times too, and so has Bruce! I don’t see you pointing any of that out!” King snaps back as Zyon drags Bloodshed by his feet from the corner, positioning him where he likes and going back toward the ropes, springboarding off the middle of the top rope and spinning his body with perfect agility, his figure rolling through the sky and crashing down onto Bloodshed’s body just before he can move himself out of the way! “COVER!” ONE! TWO! TH-NOOOOO!! Bloodshed’s shoulder shoots off the mat just in time, and Zyon’s expression shows nothing but determination as he drags Bloodshed back up to his feet. Bloodshed tries to fight out, swinging his arms wildly before he finds himself trapped, the Unique Youth lifting him into the air and spinning him upside down, snapping him quickly to the canvas with a slam before going back to the ropes, ricocheting off and sliding himself down against the mat, his feet driving themselves into Bloodshed’s head, sending him rolling away. Kip Up! “Zyon is really showing his agility, but Bloodshed doesn’t seem to be staying down for long!” Mak yells as the camera catches the face of the former Apostle, his teeth showing from behind his hair in his sly trademark grin, his right hand resting on his neck as he stands to meet the incoming Zyon head on once more! In an instant Bloodshed is back down, his right hand stretching out from an armdrag… NOOO! Zyon quickly leaps, diving up and over the top of Bloodshed, somersaulting through the air and landing close to his opponent’s corner only to be greeted by a large meaty fist swinging out straight toward him! Reacting quickly, Zyon ducks out of the way and then pops back up, catching the big man with a kick to the chest that sends him recoiling a bit as the tanks hit another turn, separating the two as Kivell intervenes, telling him to keep his eyes on the match… *SMACK!* …only for his eyes to see nothing but the turnbuckle as Bloodshed uses the distraction to attack, slamming Zyon face-first into the corner. Akira can be heard yelling from his own tank about the cheating, but Kivell shakes it off as Bloodshed wraps his hands around Zyon’s waist and lifts him up for a German suplex… OOOMPH!! “YAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MY GOD! Bloodshed is down after Zyon kicked himself out of the german suplex, using the turnbuckles to float out of the hold and over, the escape sending Bloodshed crashing down to the mat! ANOTHER COVER!” ONE! TWO! THR-NOOOOO! Bloodshed breaks the count at the last moment, his foot instinctively going for the bottom rope. Zyon again takes no time to argue, instead making sure to pull Bloodshed away from the corner as the tanks move back together again, keeping his opponent as far away from his monster partner as he can. “Zyon is taking his shots when he can and is doing his best to keep Bruce Blank out of this match long enough to keep Bloodshed down, but it takes a lot more than a few simple kicks and slams to put that guy down for the three count!” “He put Thugg through A CAR!” King exclaims, the sound of the Gambling Man’s hand slapping his own forehead can be heard slightly as Zyon turns to check on his own partner, who is back up on his feet and watching the action, his hand stretching out a bit for the tag. Zyon’s mouth can be seen moving toward his partner and his head shaking in an emphatic “not yet” type of way as the Unique Youth pulls Bloodshed back up and lifts him off his feet with a suplex, holding him in the air for as long as he can before dropping him down into a backbreaker… *CRACK!* “DID YOU HEAR THAT!” Mak Francis can be heard exclaiming as Zyon shifts Bloodshed’s weight in the air, bringing the back of his opponent’s head and neck down onto his knee. Even Bruce can be seen wincing slightly in the background and reaching his hand out for a tag as Bloodshed rolls to his stomach, holding the back of his head in pain. Zyon smiles, sending a flurry of boots toward the same spot, kicking Bloodshed’s hands away and concentrating on the neck as Bloodshed rolls toward the ropes. “NO! DON’T!” Bruce Blank screams, as do both announcers, as Bloodshed stops a mere two feet from the edge of the apron and the fall to the street that would have been accompanied it. Instinctively he reaches for the ropes and crawls to his knees as Zyon reaches him, his eyes can be seen darting out to the road below quickly before he is pulled up and back across the ring. “It looks like Zyon is going for a tag now.” Mak calls as Zyon reaches out with his hand, turning his attention to his partner long enough for Bloodshed to slip himself out from Zyon’s grip and try to head back to his own corner for his own tag, Bruce’s arm extending as Zyon realizes the escape, quickly tagging Akira and turning back to Bloodshed, trying to catch up… *SMACK!* “SUPERKICK!” King yells as Zyon’s head nearly flies from his body, the foot of Bloodshed catching him square in the jaw as he runs forward while Akira bounds over the top rope. Kivell turns his attention to Zyon as Bloodshed slaps Bruce’s hand for a tag, the big man stepping through the ropes and moving himself between Akira and Bloodshed. “Uh oh…” Mak says as Akira once again slams on the brakes, coming up short just as Bruce’s hand swings out, the Divine Wind ducking out of the way and spinning backwards as Kivell turns back to the action and immediately calls for Bruce to leave the ring! “There was a tag! What the hell is Kivell doing?” “He never saw the tag, King.” Mak replies as Bruce tries to argue, but as Kivell warns of disqualification, finally Bruce just shrugs and turns back to the ropes, only to see his tank begin to roll away from him! “What the hell?” King asks as the camera turns, noticing a large crowd of tourists seemingly unaware of the giant tanks heading toward them, the group splitting up to avoid the masses, leaving all four men stuck in the center ring! Kivell continues to yell for Blank to leave, and even under protest, all Bruce can do is climb through the ropes and balance himself on the apron, his body not exactly built to be standing on such a narrow edge as Kivell checks on Bloodshed. The ‘psychotic one’ screams for Kivell to get away from him as he turns himself back to the ring, only to catch Akira’s upper arm in the chin! “Beautiful European Uppercut there, and now an Irish whip sends Bloodshed across the ring!” Mak makes the call as Bloodshed trips over the downed Zyon, his foot catching the Unique Youth’s head and sending him down to the mat. “That’s not the kind of double-team move Zyon was looking for, I think” King laughs as Bruce again takes a swing at Akira from the apron, only for the smaller superstar to duck once more and spring back up, throwing another hard uppercut – this time right to the face of the big man! “NOOOOOO!!” The crowd, the announcers, even Kivell can be heard yelling as Bruce begins to fall backwards, losing his balance and falling… …ONTO THE PLATFORM OF HIS TANK! “THANK TODD!” King sings the praises of the almighty as Bruce’s body lands on the edge of the corner tank, his ankles and feet hanging over the edge as Akira turns back to Bloodshed, the referee working to get Zyon onto his own platform as the two superstars meet in the middle of the ring with a tie-up! Bruce manages to drag himself out of harms way and onto the center of the platform as the three tanks are once again side by side going down the straight part of their route. Kivell uses the opportunity to make Zyon leave the ring as well hoping to restore some order to the match. Akira an Bloodshed lock up and quickly find themselves in the corner nearest to Bruce Blank as the tanks get close once more. A quick slap on the shoulder later and the King of Pain is now LEGALLY allowed to enter the ring. “Blind tag! I don’t think Akira saw it!” King says with vicious glee as Bruce strikes the Divine Wind across the back with a clubbering double axe handle that knocks the Japanese superstar down. Then Bloodshed quickly pulls Akira’s right leg up into a half Boston Crab hold and pulls the knee pad down to expose the knee. *BAM!* Bruce’s cowboy boot connects with the exposed knee as Akira is unable to do anything to protect himself. The big man grabs Akira by the wrist and then pulls the hurting, limping Akira back to his feet while Bloodshed exists the ring before the referee can reach a 5 count. Bruce takes a step closer to Akira They get closer and then *BOOOOOOM!!* Big boot to the face followed by a quick cover from Bruce Blank ONE!! “That’s how he won it last week!” Mak realizes TWO!! “And this week!” King states with confidence TH-KICKOUT!! “. . . This week it won’t do it” King elaborates, trying to cover up for himself. Blank doesn’t shout at the referee, he doesn’t curse or threaten him instead he just stands back up, pulls Akira up by the mask and then locks him in a suplex position. The much lighter Divine Wind is easily hoisted up in the air where Bruce pauses the move, holding Akira straight upside down seemingly without effort. Five seconds pass Then ten seconds without Bruce moving an inch, just holding Akira in place letting the blood rush to his head as Bruce just holds him there. The tanks come to another corner and turn the corner once more, both Zyon and Bloodshed are temporarily moved out of reach while the tank with the ring tries to turn as carefully as possible. But apparently not carefully enough for Bruce who seems to loose his footing from the shift in momentum and has to take a sideways step to try and regain his balance. “He can’t hold him up!” Mak yells out as Akira wiggles, adding to the shift in momentum and comes crashing down on top of Bruce forcing the big man to the ground into a pinning predicament ONE!! “Oh come on not like this!” King yells out TWO!! “Why not like this? These guys could be the next challengers for the tag-team titels” Mak counters TH-KICKOUT!! Bruce kicks out with so much force that he throws Akira off him, fortunately the Divine Wind manages to land on his feet ready to strike again. And strike again he does as he drop kicks a seated Bruce Blank right in the back of the head, snapping the big man forward from the impact. Once the tanks are back together again we see Bloodshed crawl off the platform and down to where the driver is located, talking to him about something. “Now this is why Zyon and Akira will win, Bloodshed isn’t focused on the match” Mak points out as Bloodshed reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. The Apostle shakes his head, then he makes a couple of turning gestures to explain something to the driver before sliding what looks like a 20 dollar bill through the slit in the tank. “I love this country, 20 bucks is like a month’s salary to these guys – it’s so easy to bribe people” King states sounding like that is a good thing. Bloodshed has climbed back up on the platform just as Akira flips across Bruce’s back and then arm drags the big man half way across the corner INTO BLOODSHED’S CORNER!! *SLAP!* “What a mistake! What a rookie mistake by Akira” Mak laments as the momentum definitely changes with the simple hand to hand touch. But instead of leaping into the ring Bloodshed stomps on the platform, apparently signaling the driver to turn the gun turret on the tank. “HOLY COW!!” King yells out as the cannon swivels and then points straight into the ring, the end of it raised up higher than the top rope like Bloodshed apparently requested. Akira stands there looking stunned at the gun barrel while Bloodshed nimbly runs up the metal pipe and then leaps off the tip of it for a 180 Swanton drop that takes Akira to the ground before he can react. “Now we know what he paid for, I’d like to know why he is running around with money in his pocket during a wrestling match” Mak asks in that delightfully stupid way that he’s acquired since putting on the headset. The modified “Rainbow in the Dark” has pushed both Bloodshed and Akira into the ropes which means that even though Bloodshed is covering Akira there is no count. Matt Kivell motions and gesticulates to the driver of the Blank/Bloodshed tank to get the damn gun out of the ring so that the match can continue. The moment the tank driver complies with the instructions Bloodshed stands up, unfortunately he stands up straight in the path of the moving cannon and is. . . well you guessed it. *BONK!!* “Oh man that could have cracked his skull wide open” King says as Bloodshed crumples to the ground from being struck over the back of the head with the moving gun barrel. With Bloodshed down on the canvas Akira leaps across the ring and tags Zyon’s outstretched hand, giving the more rested of the two a chance to finish it off. Instead of stepping through the ropes Zyon moves to the middle of the apron and puts both hands on the top rope, then Akira grabs the ropes from his side and assists Zyon in springboarding over the top giving him the distance he needs to make it far enough across the ring to hit Bloodshed who’s still down. “Bruce is finally showing us that he has something upstairs” Mak comments as the big man reaches through the ropes and yanks Bloodshed out of harms way causing Zyon to come crashing down hard, hitting nothing but canvas instead of his intended victim. “He’s got plenty upstairs Mak, it’s just such disturbing stuff that none of us wants to know what it is” the Suicide King replies as they watch Akira reluctantly step out of the ring and onto the platform on the other tank while his partner is in a world of pain. The sudden movement on Bloodshed’s part caused Zyon to come down on his shoulder in an awkward angle and the Unique Youth is paying the price at the moment as he’s on the canvas clutching his left arm and shoulder while Bloodshed is given a moment to get back to his feet and get his bearings straight after being knocked over the head. Bruce holds up a hand in case Bloodshed wants to tag out but it seems that the Apostle has other ideas as he passes the opportunity by. “Oh this is perfect! There is no way Zyon can know what’s coming next” King says with an obvious smirk as Bloodshed sneaks up behind the kneeling Zyon who’s still face down clutching his shoulder. Then with the swiftness and grace of a very tiny Chinese gymnast Bloodshed hooks his arms under Zyon’s and tries to lock them behind the Unique Youth’s head. “The Panic Attack?? Oh man if he bridges over then Zyon is dead, he’s toast!” Mak yells out, he can do nothing else except sit there and watch as Zyon tries to fight the Full Nelson off with one arm but quickly succumbs to it as Bloodshed manages to lock both hands behind Zyon’s neck. A quick flip later and Zyon is locked in the Panic Attack as Bloodshed bridges out the Full Nelson Cattle Mutilation. Akira starts to frantically pace back and forth on his tank, worried that Zyon might give up, wishing desperately to tag in and take over. After a moment he stops pacing and starts to plead with Zyon to hang in there, not prepared for this match to be over. “What in Sam Hill’s underwear is THAT!” Mak says as he points to a lone figure on a tiny red scooter entering the square, trying to catch up with the three tanks as they go round and round Tiananmen square without end in sight. “You mean WHO is that and I think that you need glasses if you can’t see who it is” The Suicide King says mockingly. If you had not already guessed it’s Wayne Blank on the tiny red scooter, trying his best to drive stealthily up behind the tank Akira is on, his stealth is aided by the fact that the three tanks are incredibly noisy so Akira doesn’t notice the annoying whine from the scooter engine. Meanwhile in the ring Zyon is screaming in pain from Bloodshed attempting to tear his arms out of their sockets but he’s not giving up yet, he’s fighting it with all he’s got trying to alleviate the pain somehow. “AKIRA WATCH OUT!!” Mak bellows without realizing that Akira Kaibatsu is too far away from them to hear Mak’s warnings. But it turns out that Wayne isn’t there to attack Akira from behind, even though Wayne has caught up with the tank and leapt from the scooter and onto the tank it doesn’t look like his target is Akira up on the platform. “You know he could just be fascinated with tanks, maybe he wants to look at it up close? It’s just like you to always assume the worst Francis!” King says in an attempt to distract Mak’s attention from the fact that Wayne has pulled out some sort of wrench and is opening the rear hatch on the tank. “Oh please!” is all that Mak can think of when he sees Wayne Blank adeptly slip inside the tank. Then his attention is turned back towards the ring where the referee keeps asking Zyon if he gives up and Zyon keeps screaming. . . just screaming, not yes, not no just screaming in pain. Just as it looks like the Unique Youth is ready to give in the tanks have to turn another corner and the shaking and turning velocity throws Bloodshed’s bridge out off, causing him to lose balance and forcing him to release the hold much to the delight of the crowd. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! Once the turn is complete Bruce’s tank quickly pulls up next to the tank with the ring but Akira’s tank seems to be going off in a totally different direction swerving left and right almost as if someone didn’t know exactly what they were doing. When Bloodshed sees Akira’s tank off in the distance his sadistic grin turns even wider before turning back towards Zyon. “RIGHT IN THE MUSH!” Mak yells out in surprise as Zyon raises a foot and kicks Bloodshed as the Apostle bends over to attack him once more. Zyon tries to get back to his feet but he can’t put any weight on his arms and instead stumbles forward trying to crawl towards his corner while Bloodshed checks to see if his nose is still where it is supposed to be. When he turns around and sees Zyon looking for a tag he can’t help but laugh and just stands there, waiting for a moment until it dawns on Zyon what’s going on. “Man those Chinese soldiers huh? You just can’t trust them can you?” King quips, trying to play it off as an accident and not a deliberate plot from Bruce & Bloodshed that Akira Kaibatsu is now half way across the square, holding on to the platform for dear life as the tank swerves left and right. Zyon finally manages to pull himself to his feet by leaning against the turnbuckles in his home corner and then turns to tag in Akira – only to find no Akira, no tank, no hope of a tag. With Zyon in shock Bruce sneaks into the ring where he gives some sort of signal to Bloodshed before rushing the Unique Youth from behind. “Did you see that? These guys have something up their sleeves!” A suspicious and paranoid Mak deducts as Bruce is only a foot or so away from the Unique Youth with his hands raised over his head poised for a double axe handle blow. Zyon must either have eyes in the back of his head or he caught a sideways glimpse of the 295 pound monster because he manages to duck down as Bruce rushes him, avoiding the crushing blow Bruce was about to deal him. “WHOA!!” “HOLY SHIT!!” Bruce has hit the ropes with more momentum than he realized and is flipped half way over the top rope, then he’s flipped all the way over the top as Zyon in a sign of sheer desperation drop kicks the big man in the back sending him OVER the top rope and OFF the front of the tank. “BRUCE IS DEAD!!” Mak categorically states as Bruce falls to the ground right in front of the tank, a move that causes the collective crowd to scream in horror and shocks Zyon so much that he totally loses focus on the match. Not being one for such sentimental nonsense like caring if your tag-team partner is dead or alive Bloodshed takes advantage of Zyon’s distracted state and hooks the Full Nelson once more. “One Panic Attack coming up! I guess Zyon didn’t take his Paxil” King comments as Bloodshed launches his opponent up and over his head, trying to flip him over straight into the Panic Attack but is only able to flip him half way so that he brings Zyon down more on his neck than his shoulders *CRACK!!* To Bloodshed’s credit he still holds on to the Unique Youth and bridges into a pinning position after folding Zyon together like a cheap suit. Matt Kivell forgets about Bruce for a second and instinctively begins to count the pin fall. ONE!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! *GOOOOOOOOOOOOONG!!* “Bloodshed wins the match! But what happened to Bruce?” King questions as the victory could very well be overshadowed by a very tragic event, fortunately for Bruce, Bloodshed, the SWF, the people in the square, the tank driver and everyone watching at home there is no bloodbath, no squashed King of Pain. Bruce Blank managed to land on the ground between the tracks and the tank had enough clearance to drive over him without any harm, other than the harm from falling off a tank to the pavement naturally “Oh thank god! The last thing we need is someone getting run over by a tank” Mak says as he breathes a sigh of relief, right now he doesn’t even care that Bloodshed and Bruce won he’s just glad that no one got serious hurt. Funyon grabs the microphone to inform everyone of the outcome of the match in picture perfect Chinese并且对我的右边, 他们的对手, 介入在一联合的五百和二十五磅... THE DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD PREEEEEEEEECEDENTS!!” There are no celebrations in Tiananmen square today, the people wanted to see that about as much as they wanted to see a 3 armed baby being born, they wanted to see Bruce & Bloodshed win about as much as they wanted to see a tank come straight at them. . . A TANK COME STRAIGHT AT THEM!! The Suicide King leaps up from his chair and bolts as they realize that the tank with Akira Kaibatsu on top is coming straight for them, apparently totally out of Wayne Blank’s control as it plows up the steps towards the palace where the SWF Broadcast crew is located. Mak is less fortunate as he isn’t able to “bolt” anywhere these days, demonstrated by him desperately fiddling with the joystick on his wheelchair. Claka~taka!- Claka~taka!-Claka~taka! Akira desperately leaps off the tank just seconds before it hits the ground and is caught by the masses as they’ve moved out of the way of the tank. Then the tank strikes the side of the palace with a loud *CRASH!!* And comes to a halt shortly afterwards in the dust and debris of the wall that it crashed through, probably because Wayne finally found out how to turn the engine off. Fortunately for both the Suicide King and Mak Francis the upper level that they’re broadcasting from is okay (for now) but they’ll probably have to find somewhere else for the commentator’s tables for the rest of the show. The Suicide King sums the situation up in one short sentence before Lockdown goes to a commercial break. “I wonder if Communists believe in insurance” *Fade to commercials* Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 (edited) “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms, his voice ringing out around Tianenman Square. “Introducing first…” At this point ‘S*kt It Up’ by (hed) PE kicks up and the crowd starts cheering, even the Chinese fans recognising and respecting the entrance music of David Cross. The former Fallen Angel steps out from behind the curtain onto the rampway and into the view of the mass of cheering humanity, the raises one black-gloved fist in salute. “…from Oil City, Pennsylvania and now residing in Salem, Oregon, he stands at six feet and five inches tall and weighed in today at 269lbs,” Funyon continues, “this is DAVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID… CRRRRROSSSSSSSSSS!!!” “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Cross is getting a good reaction from the fans,” Mak notes. “Damn Commies are so starved for entertainment they’ll even cheer a loser like him,” King mutters. “You just wait and hear their reaction for his opponent though. It’s all about name value out here.” David Cross walks down the ramp slapping hands with the fans as he goes, then rolls into the ring and climbs to the second buckle before raising both arms in the air. The fans give another cheer which is acknowledged by a tight grin from Cross before the big man drops back to the mat and strips off his leather jacket and cross which he hands to the timekeeper for safekeeping. Referee Brian Warner comes and checks him over for concealed weapons, which Cross is blatantly not carrying. “David Cross hasn’t had all that much joy since returning to the SWF,” Francis says, “he’s picked up a couple of wins but nothing that remarkable, and hasn’t seen the success that he had in late 2004 when he won the USJL Title and took the Tag Titles with Christian Fury as part of Team ANGER. However, a win over his opponent here today could really kick-start his career again.” “You honestly think that’s likely?” King asks dubiously. “I said it could do wonders for his career. I never said how likely I thought it was,” Mak covers himself. It’s at this moment that a rolling chant crashes out across the Square, sounding like a crowd of a thousand are all shouting in unison: “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” Then the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire comes in, the distinctive bassline starting to cut through as the portable Smarktron set up above the entranceway darkens to black while jagged white letters flash a familiar phrase up one word at a time: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ The bass drum starts to pound while the Smarktron shows famous clips from notable matches, including the Super Intoxxication on Tom Flesher that won Michael Stephens his first World Title, the scenes finally building to Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!!* -blast of red pyro on the soundstage that announces the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman! And then, through the flame and smoke… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …while the Chinese fans chant his old ring name in unison… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …black hair hanging loosely around his face and with his customised England soccer shirt on… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …comes the man who will, unwillingly, be facing Landon Maddix at 13th Hour. “AND HIS OPPONENT,” Funyon roars, struggling to make himself heard over the simultaneous chanting coming from thousands of throats, “from Nottingham, England! He stands at an even six feet and weighed in today at 218lbs, this is MIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Michael Stephens seems if anything a little overwhelmed by the volume of the reaction, but given the amount of people packed into Tianenman Square they could all be whispering and it’d still be deafening. The former World Champion jogs down the entrance ramp until he reaches the bottom, then cracks his neck from side to side before briefly crossing his arms in what might be the straight-edge ‘X’ sign, but then flings them to either side, palms down, in a motion that’s much more ‘him’… *BOOM!* …and more red pyro shoots up from each ringpost as the first verse of ‘Rookie’ kicks in! ‘I never thought this could be me I guess you never do until it’s happening to you Like all the thoughts that turned to shame And all the “could-have-beens” just rearrange…’ Stephens rolls into the ring and pops up to his feet, then pulls his shirt off before wadding it up and hurling it out to the crowd where a couple of Chinese girls fight over it while pretending not to. The Englishman cracks his neck again and then extends his hand to David Cross, who looks at it dubiously before cautiously shaking. “Michael Stephens and David Cross are no strangers to each other,” Francis reminds viewers, “although they have never faced off one-on-one they were on opposite teams in a couple of six-man tags in 2004, and then of course there was the three-way dance which saw Stephens and his then-partner Sean Davis take the Tag Titles from Cross and his partner Christian Fury with Ghost and Todd Cortez also in the match. All of that may explain why Cross was a little reluctant to shake Stephens’ hand just now…” “So what you’re saying is, David Cross is 0-3 against Toxxic,” King yawns, “Christ, this is going to be more boring than I thought.” ‘Rookie’ has now faded out and Funyon has left the ring, leaving Brian Warner in charge and alone with the two athletes. The referee signals for the bell… *DING-DING-DING!* …and David Cross immediately comes forward, looking to close with his quicker opponent before Mike can start to outmanoeuvre him. Stephens seems content to engage in a lock-up, but instead of accepting that where his greater strength and leverage might give him an obvious advantage Cross elects to pull a surprise and suddenly shoots low, taking Stephens off-guard with a double-leg takedown! The bigger man then leaps onto Mike and applies a headlock, looking to ground his cruiserweight opponent, but Stephens swings his legs up and grabs a headscissors which enables him to pull Cross off. Cross finds himself head down between Stephens’ legs with the top of his head resting on the mat, which wasn’t exactly the result he had anticipated, and he starts looking for a way out by levering his hands between Stephens’ legs and trying to pry them apart. “Both men in the ring like to start off their matches with some low-risk ‘technical’ wrestling,” Francis says, not quite able to keep a former amateur wrestler’s disdain out of his voice, “Cross building to big power moves while I suspect Stephens will be aiming to hit some of the high-flying moves he used to throw out with such abandon.” “Read: Hoss in wrestler’s clothing vs spotmonkey in denial,” King replies. David Cross is a big, strong man, and his arms are a match for Michael Stephens’ legs in terms of pure strength. It takes him about twenty seconds or so, but eventually he manages to lever Mike’s legs apart enough to extract his head, then immediately changes his grip to Stephens’ ankle in what seems to be an attempt to turn the smaller man over and apply an STF. However, Mike is savvy to this and refuses to let it happen, then uses his free leg to start firing kicks at David Cross’s knee. It just so happens that is the knee that blew out and ruined David’s football career and so he’s rather protective of it; whether or not Stephens knew that or was just kicking randomly is unclear, but Cross releases his grip and jumps backwards to evade his opponent’s flailing feet, and Stephens rolls back to a vertical base. “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” It appears that the Chinese fans have been watching American programming closely and have picked up the correct chants; even more surprising perhaps is the fact that the crowd are split between the former three-time World Champion and the man from Pennsylvania. However, it seems that a fair percentage of the audience have not forgiven Stephens for his former actions and are firmly behind his opponent. Regardless, each man is having his name chanted as they close with each other again. This time they do go into a lock-up, but Stephens twists out almost immediately to get behind Cross and apply a hammerlock, wrenching the bigger man’s arm up behind his back. David Cross is unfazed and he lashes out with his left arm to catch Mike in the face with a back elbow, then twists out of his opponent’s grip and reverses the hold so that he applies a hammerlock to Stephens. Mike tries a back elbow as well but Cross is wise to it and blocks it, so Stephens stamps on his foot instead; as Cross lets out a cry of pain and involuntarily shifts his position the Englishman twists out in his turn, then keeps hold of Cross’s right arm and applies an armwringer. “A slightly unorthodox counter there,” Francis notes, “but both men are still jockeying for position here.” David Cross is unimpressed at having his right arm twisted and so he rolls forward to release the pressure, then when he gets back to his feet takes a hold of Stephens’ wrist and reverses the move to put Michael Stephens in the same uncomfortable position. However, David Cross isn’t content to stop there and hauls Mike towards him- *WHAM!* -before delivering a blistering short-arm lariat! “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “It looks like David Cross has lost patience with the technical game,” Mak comments, “and he’s decided to step things up a gear!” Sure enough Cross doesn’t give the rattled Englishman any time to recover and reaches down to haul him to his feet, then whips Stephens into the ropes. The cruiserweight rebounds at a fair speed but Cross is ready for him, snatching him up before twisting around 180 degrees and driving him into the mat with a spinebuster! *BANG!* Cross immediately makes a cover, hooking the leg as Brian Warner drops to count… ONE! TW- -but Stephens kicks out before the count of two, a lariat and a spinebuster not being enough to get a nearfall even on this notoriously fragile former World Champion! Cross grunts and starts to get up, bringing Mike with him, then hooks his opponent up as if for a vertical suplex. However Cross gives that impression the lie by raising one hand in the air… ‘BRAINBUSTAAAAAAAH!’ “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The shouts gets a pop from the crowd and Cross grabs the waist of Stephens’ pants, then hoists him up into the air… but Mike knees Cross in the head on the way up and gets dropped back to his feet as the former Tag Champion loses his concentration, then instantly spins to one side and takes Cross down with a modified swinging neckbreaker! “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” Michael doesn’t stop there though, as he grabs Cross as the bigger man starts to get back up, then takes David’s right wrist in his right hand and the left wrist in his left one. With the opposite hands captured Stephens crosses his opponent’s arms and twists around so that he is back to back with the big man before sitting out with a Goku-Raku neckbreaker. From there Stephens rolls onto his front with the Goku-Raku still applied, before rolling forward over Cross’s head and bridging to apply an inverted Goku-Raku Clutch! “This is blatantly, blatantly stolen from Scott Pretzler,” King spits. “And?” Francis asks, “it’s not like he’s using it.” Brian Warner leans down to ask David Cross whether he wants to give it up, but the big man is hanging on and firmly denying any such intention. As the seconds pass Cross’s face starts to go more and more interesting shades of red and purple but he continues to resist… and finally Stephens releases the hold, unable to maintain the bridge anymore. “I stand corrected,” King says, “the addition of that stupid bridge has made the hold far less effective than Pretzler’s Godly Snowflake Clutch.” “It’s still done some damage,” Mak argues, “David Cross’s neck will have been weakened and the blood flow to his brain restricted - he’s going to be hurting and light-headed for a while.” Michael Stephens looks to be taking advantage of just that situation as he pulls Cross up to his feet (not without some effort), then places his head underneath Cross’s chin and sits out with a jawbreaker that causes David to stumble away clutching his face. Things don’t get better for the former Fallen Angel however, as when he turns back to his opponent Stephen is waiting for him and the Englishman lashes out with a RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! Windup… …DISCUS CLOTHESLINE! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Stephens seems to have jarred his arm slightly with the effort of taking the bigger Cross off his feet, but he hooks the leg of his recumbent opponent and makes a cover… ONE! TW- -and now it’s Cross’s turn to kick out before two, the resilient American nowhere near ready to concede defeat! Stephens seems to have an objection to that and grabs David’s head to haul the bigger man up again, then pastes him with a European uppercut that staggers the former USJL Champion. Before Cross can fire back Stephens grabs him in a ¾ headlock, turns and runs for the turnbuckles in preparation for the Sunny In England, but Cross uses sheer muscle to push him off and Stephens is propelled chest-first into the corner instead! *WHAM!* The gasping straight-edger staggers backwards, only to find David Cross’s right arm snaking beneath his before the big man arches backwards to spike his opponent into the mat with a half-nelson suplex! *BANG!* Stephens land on the back of his head and flops over onto his front, momentarily as limp as a boned fish. Cross pauses for half a second to catch a breath, then rolls his opponent over onto his back and makes the cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Stephens kicks out! “I think Michael Stephens showed some ring rust there,” Francis says, “it was too early to go for the Sunny In England, and he should have known it.” “Is it ever actually sunny in England?” King wonders. “Not everyone comes from Vegas, Brian.” “Damn right. We’ve got standards to maintain.” Cross takes hold of Stephens under each arm and hauls the smaller man back to his feet, then lashes out with a kick to the gut. Stephens doubles over as the breath is blasted from his lungs, but not for long as David Cross catches him with a wicked kneelift that brings him back upright and causes the former World Champion to stagger back a couple of steps… and the former Fallen Angel then whips a crescent kick into Stephens’ face, flooring him again! “It’s worth noting that we haven’t seen Stephens take to the air at all so far,” Mak Francis notes, “he got caught when he tried the old aerial game against Sean Davis; literally in fact, because the Perfect Storm turned it into a press slam. However, David Cross is a good striker and probably Stephens’ match on the mat as well, so if the Sensation doesn’t want to go high-risk he may struggle in this match!” “I don’t see what the issue is,” Suicide King gripes, “if it’s in the rules, do it. If it’s not in the rules wait until the referee’s not looking, then do it anyway.” However, stubborn as Michael Stephens is in terms of his moves he seems to be equally stubborn in terms of the match, as he is already getting up again after that last combination from David Cross. He’s not looking in a great way mind you, a fact that’s shown when Cross, who has been manoeuvring around looking for the right opening, simply slaps his hand across Mike’s throat with no real resistance from the Englishman. From there it’s an easy matter to hoist Stephens up… …and bring him back down! *BANG!!* “Chokeslam with authority!” Mak Francis calls as Cross does his best to drive Stephens through the mat to the floor, “this could be Cross’s chance to win!” Sure enough, the man from Pennsylvania has dropped to make the cover… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Michael Stephens kicks out just before the three-count! Cross shows some evidence of frustration at this result and has a brief conversation with Brian Warner about how accurate that count was, but when the referee makes it clear he’s sticking to his original decision Cross shrugs and turns his attention back to his opponent. Mike has now turned over onto his front in an instinctive effort to keep his shoulders off the canvas, but that’s no worry to Cross as he twists Stephens’ arm around his leg, then rolls over the smaller man’s shoulders to bring him into a pinning position with a La Magistral! ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Mike kicks out again, the expertly-applied cradle still not able to keep him down! David Cross is clearly losing patience now and he hauls Stephens up rather more roughly and with less respect than before in the match, mainly demonstrated by the fact that he’s using a handful of Mike’s floppy black hair to do it with. Once upright Cross delivers a stinging open-handed slap to Stephens’ jaw to stun him, then slaps his thigh a few times and turns towards the ropes. “Yakuza kick coming up,” Francis says, “from a white man with no connection to the Japanese underworld, I might add.” Cross picks up speed and hits the ropes then rebounds towards the swaying Stephens and lifts one big right boot, ready to take Mike’s head clean off his shoulders… …but Stephens ducks! Cross staggers on, not expecting the lack of resistance to his foot, and as he does so Michael Stephens starts running himself, towards the ropes that Cross just bounced off. Cross’s momentum carries him into the far cables and he rebounds back as well, only to find Michael Stephens accelerating towards him and- *CRACK!* -slicing his legs out from under him with a soccer tackle! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Shades of Stuart Pearce!” Mak yells. “Huh?” “Legendary England defender. Don’t show your ignorance.” David Cross crashes to the mat before rolling, ending up in a kneeling position near the ropes. This isn’t a great position to be in however, and he works that out a split-second before Stephens, now back on his feet, delivers a running basement dropkick to the temple! *SMACK!* “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Michael Stephens grabs David Cross and hauls him away from the ropes before covering him, perhaps hoping that he’s scored a freak knockout shot… ONE! TWO!! …but it is not to be, as the resilient Cross kicks out! Stephens grimaces as if to say ‘well, it couldn’t hurt’, then grabs Cross by the head and pulls him up back-to-back until the Englishman is in a position to deliver a Hangman’s neckbreaker. However, he instead twists back to face his opponent and sits out in one fluid motion, taking Cross with him so that the big man’s head is driven into the mat with the Pressure Drop. *BANG!* “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Stephens doesn’t acknowledge the Chinese fans, although whether that’s because he doesn’t like to be associated with the name they’re chanting or because he hasn’t got the time or energy isn’t clear. Instead he rolls David Cross over onto his back, but rather than going for the cover on the momentarily-stunned American he heads for the corner where he steps through the ropes and begins to climb the turnbuckles. “Michael Stephens is going up top,” Francis notes, “and this could be all-important. If he hits whatever he’s about to do it could end the match, but if he misses…” Stephens has reached the top rope now and he pauses for a second to be sure of his footing (and perhaps check that David Cross isn’t about to roll away after playing possum), then leaps off, performing a somersault as he go before landing a leg across Cross’s throat with the Hangover! *WHAM!* Cross spasms in pain as it hits and Stephens rolls into the cover immediately, ignoring the pain in his hip as he makes sure to hook Cross’s leg to make it as sure as he can… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “Now that was close,” Francis says. The Cross fans are exercising their vocal chords to their full extent as the Fallen Angel refuses to go down, kicking out of the rolling guillotine legdrop! Stephens puffs his cheeks out in annoyance and casts a brief glare at Brian Warner, but neglects to take it up with the referee. Instead the straight-edger grabs David Cross and haul him up to a vertical base, boots him in the gut and places him in a vertical headscissors before reaching down to apply a double underhook. “Uh-oh, this could get ugly,” King says with… well, no real concern at all, if we’re honest. “King, Michael Stephens is not Landon Maddix,” Francis chides, “he’s setting Cross up for the Stephens Shock Syndrome, or Triple S as he calls it these days.” “He finally figured out that tampon reference, right?” Michael Stephens knows that this is going to be a strain, but he grits his teeth, takes a deep breath and lifts. David Cross’s feet leave the floor and, with considerable effort, Stephens brings him UP… …AROUND… …AND… …DOWN! *whump* But David Cross has enough presence of mind to land on one knee, and before the startled Stephens can react he powers up and bridges backwards, throwing the smaller Englishman back over his head with a back bodydrop! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “David Cross is still in this match,” Francis yells, “and he’s not conceding defeat yet! Michael Stephens is going to have to do more than that to get this win!” Indeed Cross seems to have found a second wind and the big man is getting fired up, pumping his arms a couple of times as the Chinese fans, who have been see-sawing between the two men all match, start to get behind him! Cross goes to the corner opposite to where Michael Stephens is now starting to get back to his feet, slaps his thigh a couple of times again, then charges forwards… …Michael Stephens turns around, hearing his enemy approaching… …and David Cross catches him flush in the face with a devastating Yakuza Kick! *CRUNCH!* “He got him!” Mak yells, “this could be a real upset!” Cross’s momentum takes him into the turnbuckles on the other side of the ring, but he instantly pushes himself off and dives on top of the prone straight-edger before hooking the leg as Brian Warner dives to make the count… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! “WHAT!?” Suicide King screams in disbelief… …NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “JUST!” Francis bawls back, “Michael Stephens just got his shoulder up in time, but dear God King, that was closer to a three-count than your latest hooker is to being illegal!” “As long as you call me God-King, you can spread what slander you like!” the Gambling Man shoots back. David Cross, needless to say, is rather unimpressed. “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” However, the big man swallows his disappointment and hauls Michael Stephens up, then bends his knees to take the Englishman onto his shoulders into a Fireman’s carry. Unwilling to make any more mistakes, the former Fallen Angel walks to the middle of the ring with his black-haired burden, then sets himself… “If he hits the Cross To Bear then this match is done,” Francis states clinically, “there’s no way Stephens is getting up from that.” Michael Stephens appears to agree, because just before Cross can throw him off his shoulders and hoist him up for the devastating brainbuster he starts firing desperation knees into the side of Cross’s head! The first couple just snap the big man’s head to one side, but as knee after knee hits home David’s eyes start to glaze and he begins to wobble, then drops to one knee. Mike seizes his chance and slithers off to the front of his opponent, then grabs a front facelock. David Cross rises back to both feet but Stephens holds on for the one second necessary to raise his right arm in the air and then bring it down in a sweeping motion across the back of Cross’s neck, twisting and sitting out as he does so to take his opponent down with an elbow-drive bulldog! *BANG!* “Michael Stephens calls that ‘Unfinished Business’,” Mak Francis says, “but it could be badly-named, because it could have finished things here tonight!” Stephens certainly hopes so, and he rolls the suddenly-limp Cross over onto his back… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Goddamn, will one of you just lose already!?” King splutters, perhaps needing a bathroom break. “You’ve got to hand it to these two men,” Francis says, “they’re showing real spirit and resilience here tonight.” Michael Stephens is not a happy man. For a brief second there is a flash of the old Toxxic as he gets to his feet and snarls something uncomplimentary at Brian Warner; the referee defiantly brandishes two fingers to indicate the number of counts he made, and Stephens returns the favour by flipping a black-nailed V-sign at the official to show him what he thinks of his numerical abilities. However, after a couple of deep breaths the man from Nottingham has calmed enough to start picking David Cross up off the canvas and hopefully find something that will win this match. Cross doesn’t come up easily, the last blow to the face seemingly disorientating him quite badly, but Stephens finally manages to get him onto his feet. The straight-edger then grabs Cross’s wrist and goes to Irish whip his opponent into the ropes, but David reverses the momentum and sends Mike in instead. The Englishman rebounds off the cables and hurtles back towards Cross, who raises one foot to try and take his head again; Stephens ducks under that and heads for the far ropes, picking up possibly even more speed as he does so, well aware that hitting hard and fast is the best tactic. Cross pivots on the spot… …Stephens hurtles back at him… …and David Cross takes him up and over with a spinning powerslam that nearly breaks the sound barrier! *WHAM!!* “Cover! Cover!” Mak yells as a half-dazed Cross slumps into a lateral press, “he’s got him!” ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Stephens kicks out! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” David Cross doesn’t move for a couple of seconds; he just lies there with Michael Stephens’ body twisted beneath him, the Englishman having got his shoulder up off the mat but currently lacking the air to manage anything more. However after a couple of deep breaths David Cross pushes himself up, then grabs Stephens and begins to peel the straight-edger off the canvas. Mike comes up slowly, and David Cross knows that now he finally has his opponent where he wants him. Accordingly he reaches out with both hands and clamps them around Stephens’ neck, ready for the double-choke sit-out powerbomb known as the Infinite Justice… …and Stephens boots him in the gut! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Not only that, but as Cross doubles over Stephens cinches a double-underhook in, then leaves his feet to apply a bodyscissors with his legs! “What the hell…?” King asks in confusion. “This, Brian, is the RTF II,” Mak Francis says, checking his notes, “I was speaking with Michael Stephens the other day and he told me that he feels the original Repeat To Fade is too tricky to apply - this is the updated version!” David Cross is struggling to remain upright, well aware that if he slumps forward to the mat he’ll effectively DDT himself. However, the double-underhook choke that Stephens has applied is limiting his air, limiting the flow of blood to his brain and really limiting his options. Cross knows that his only chance is to get to the ropes, but it’s so hard to concentrate when the world is going fuzzy… …he takes one step… …drops to one knee… …and Brian Warner, leaning down to check on him, hears something that no-one else can! *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match by submission,” Funyon booms as ‘Rookie’ booms out over Tiananmen Square, “MIIIIIIIICHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” Stephens releases his grip as soon as he hears the bell and flops to the mat, where he sucks in air. Beside him, David Cross slumps into a sitting position where he holds his head and tries to get Tiananmen Square to stop spinning. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The chants are rising in the evening air again as Brian Warner reaches down to raise Michael Stephens’ right arm in victory. The English straight-edger gets unsteadily back to his feet and makes his way to the nearest turnbuckle, where he climbs to the second rope and wearily throws his arms wide, palms flat, for the fans to get one last photo opportunity. Then he carefully climbs back down and, pausing briefly to slap David Cross on the back, rolls under the ropes and starts to head towards the back. “Fans, we saw a great effort here from both men,” Mak Francis says, “but in the end only one could come out the winner. I think it’s safe to say that Michael Stephens is physically ready to face Landon Maddix at 13th Hour, he’s showing no signs of ring rust… but will he be mentally ready to face a man who’s broken necks in his name, slept with and beaten on his sister, and blackmailed him into the match? Don’t go away, we’ve got more action after the break!” FADE OUT Edited June 2, 2006 by chirs3 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 I assume a followup to the opening promo is in the works, but I don't know where it goes, so I'll just leave this post open for it. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 (edited) SWF Lockdown comes back from commercial with a bang the cameras going right into a wide shot of the jam packed temporary SWF arena right in the centre of Tiananmen Square, the SWF fans buzzing with excitement as the show rolls merrily on. The camera cuts to a sweeping view taking in the faces and waving signs of the crowd as the fanatical Chinese fans eagerly await the next match of the show. The cameras finally cut back to the announcer’s table sitting snugly against the guard rails, revealing the “Franchise” Mak Francis and his ever cynical partner the Suicide King ready as always to keep calling the action. “Good evening everyone and welcome back to SWF LOCKDOWN! It’s been a great night so far and we’re nowhere near done yet!!” Mak cries enthusiastically. “Indeed we aren’t, and those of you too lazy to tune in earlier are just in time to watch our undeserving International Champion get his head taken off and his belt ripped from his hands." The Suicide King replies with his perennial smirk. “A very bold prediction King. It was certainly a surprise to see Aecas take the title off of JJ Johnson on Smarkdown, in his third show back from hiatus. Now he faces his first title defense against a man who has been trying to hunt down this belt for some time.” “And believe me he may very well get it tonight Mak. He’s going to run rings around that big oaf and the match will be over before the front man for Baby Bio knows what hit him.” “This is also only the second time that these two men will have met in an SWF ring. They’ve not faced one another since Aecas and Janus were a tag team over a year ago. And in that match they were successful in taking away the titles from the rampaging team of Wild & Dangerous!” “And I can bet that Wildchild hasn’t forgotten that loss Mak. He wants the title and to take it from a man who cost him the Tag Belts will just make victory all the sweeter.” “And that’s not all we have for you tonight folks. Still to come we have a Hardcore match between our Champion Landon Maddix against the Cult of Mansonosity! And our Main event tonight will be for the Tag straps that both of the men in our next match once coveted. The champions, JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins will be taking on the unstoppable force of the Doomtopians!” “Explain to me again how Jimmy the Doom managed to wrangle that match?” King asks in exasperation. “I don’t book ‘em King. I just call ‘em.” Mak replies with a diplomatic smile that simply infuriates his partner all the more. Before any further banter can occur Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” suddenly hits the speakers, the fans coming alive again as the Bahama Bomber flings the curtains blocking the entranceway aside and thrusting his arms into the air to the adoration of the Chinese fans. Melissa Fasaki steps out from the curtain, following in Wildchild’s stead as the Caribbean Cruiser starts to make his way to the ring, slapping hands with the frenzied fans who press themselves up against the aisle guards as Funyon raises his mic. “Ladies and gentlemen! The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and will be for the SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!” The dapper announcer pauses for a moment as the cheering of the fans raises again before continuing. “Introducing first, the challenger. Hailing from the Bahamas, and weighing in at 214lbs. He is THE WIIIIIIIIIILDCHIIIIIIIIIIILD!” The fans just get keep louder as Wildchild makes his way down to the ringside area, pausing only to remove his shin guards and hand them to Melissa before sprinting the short distance to the ring and somersaulting between the middle and bottom ropes, rolling up to his feet and raising his arms once more to the adoration of the fans. “Wildchild looks as ready as ever King.” “He’d better be Mak. Fastest man I know, but it won’t do him any good if he gets caught.” King says as a funeral bell starts to toll, much to the excitement of the fans before the voices of the damned speak once more. "Are you scared?" "He's here......" Amon Amarth’s “Death in Fire” erupts from the speakers as the Wildchild lowers his hands and starts to do a few warm-up stretches in the ring as smoke boils up around the entranceway. The fans let out another huge pop as Aecas emerges from behind the curtain, staff in one hand and the International Title dangling from the other. He thrusts his arms into the air, much like Wildchild did before him, the blade of the scythe springing from its haft to their delight as he lofts both belt and signature item as he begins to stride down the isle. “Annnnnnd his opponent! Weighing in at 315lbs, and hailing from Shrewsbury, England. The SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION! AYYYEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAS!” His job done, Funyon hops out of the ring as the fans erupt once more as Aecas slowly makes his way to ringside, walking around the ring, his gaze fixed on his opponent as he lets the Timekeeper relieve him of the scythe before walking slowly up the steel stairs and onto the ring apron. Wildchild isn’t intimidated, holding the giants gaze as he slowly steps through the ropes and holds the title high in one hand before finally surrendering it to referee Eddy Long. Long turns and shows the belt to Wildchild, the Bahama Bomber’s eyes locked on the gold for a few moments before he slaps the belt lightly with the palms of his hands and steps back with a nod. Long raises the belt in both hands, turning around slowly to present it to the crowd before handing it off to Funyon and moving back to the centre of the ring. He checks the positions of both men and finally signals to the Timekeeper to start the match. DING! DING! DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “And here we go! The second ever meeting of these two men with another Title on the line!” Aecas and the Wildchild begin to circle one another as the ringing of the bell fades away, both men keeping the other in sight, Aecas moving with slow sure steps while the Bahama Bomber is quicker on his feet, almost sliding across the canvas as he surveys his giant opponent. The buzzing excitement of the crowd grows louder as Aecas lunges at his opponent, trying to force the smaller man into a grappling situation. Wildchild easily avoids the lunge of his giant opponent, darting underneath his questing arms and flashing across the ring to rebound off of the ropes gaining momentum and launching himself at his giant opponent, catching Aecas in the chest with a quick Flying Forearm staggering the big man. As Aecas staggers backwards Wildchild leaps back up to his feet, The Bahama Bomber pressing the attack once again ducking under a huge Lariat attempt to hit the ropes once again leaping back and sending the Black Angel staggering back once again as he smashes into the giants chest with a lightning fast Leg Lariat. “Wildchild is starting this match with his usual fast pace but he can’t seem to knock Aecas down!” “Just you watch Mak; size is no match for the kind of speed that WC possesses. It’s only a matter of time.” King’s words are soon proved correct as WC flips back up to his feet again before leaving them a second later as he sends both boots thudding into Aecas’ left knee, the Black Angel dropping down to one knee as his left leg is forcibly knocked from under him. Now that he’s chopped his opponent down to size WC continues his assault, leaping into the air and snapping Aecas’ head to one side with a vicious Gamengiri kick to the face, sending his huge opponent crumpling to the canvas like a sack of bricks. Wasting not a second the Bahama Bomber dives down on top of the Black Angel for an early cover. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “A quick cover and a quick kickout by Aecas!” “See what I mean Mak? Wildchild is just too quick for Aecas, though unfortunately it’s going to take more than a few kicks to the head to put Psycho #3 over there down for the three count.” Both men begin to get back to their feet, Wildchild popping up as Aecas starts to push himself back up, the Bahama bomber quickly moves to the ropes stepping out onto the ring apron and gripping the top rope with both hands as he watches his challenger get back to his feet. As Aecas straightens up once again Wildchild uses the ropes to slingshot himself back into the ring the Bahama Bomber twisting his body into a horizontal position as he attempts to Crossbody the giant. This time however things do not go WC’s way as Aecas’ arms shoot up to grab him around the neck and right leg as he crashes into his broad chest. The Black Angel uses his challenger’s momentum against him, twisting around and planting the Human Hurricane in the center of the ring with a huge Powerslam, hooking Wildchild's right leg as he too tries for an early pinfall. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Wildchild wasn’t quite quick enough on that one King!” “So what Mak? You aren’t going to beat WC with just one move.” Aecas is quick to get back up to his feet dragging WC back by his braided hair before he grabs the right arm of the Bahama Bomber and Irish Whips him hard into the ropes. Wildchild rebounds from the cables ducking under a huge Big Boot attempt before he bounces off the ropes once again and Dropkicks Aecas in the knee a second time before the champion has time to turn around. The giant grimaces as WC’s boots hit the back of his knee this time sending him down to one leg once more. A swift kick to the back of the head rocks the champion long enough for the Human Hurricane to use the ropes to vault outside onto the apron. No sooner have his feet touched the canvas than WC jumps up once again, springboarding himself off the top rope and catching Aecas in the back of the head with a hellish looking Missile Dropkick, sending the giant crashing face down to the canvas. “Wildchild already speeding the pace of the match up again! Trying to take Aecas apart piece by piece.” “And that’s exactly what he has to do Mak. Keep him off his feet and wear him down, if he can keep this up, and avoid those ham sized fists we’ll have a better champion.” Aecas is already beginning to push himself back up to his feet once more, the giant trying to shake off the hard blows to the head and temple he just suffered and Wildchild is poised and ready to take advantage. The Bahama Bomber quickly moves around in front of Aecas, his right foot lashing forwards to smack across the pale chest of his opponent with a straight kick, WC draws his foot back once again and measures the Black Angel with another stiff kick to the chest before laying several stiff punches into the head of the champion with his gauze covered fists. “Wildchild laying in some hard shots to the champion, putting that gauze to good use!” “He shouldn’t keep this up for too long Mak. It may sting but it’s still giving Aecas time to recover.” Wildchild nails one more solid punch into Aecas’ head before he hits the ropes once more, hurtling back in towards the champion and planting both feet squarely into his face with a basement Dropkick. Aecas goes down hard once more and Wildchild is quick to make another cover. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aecas’ right shoulder shoots off the canvas but Wildchild is already in motion once more. Leaping to his feet and charging the ropes once more, jumping onto the second rope and catapulting himself backwards with a no hands Lionsault, crashing back down onto the champion but things don’t go all his way as one huge hand clamps fast onto his throat after the hard landing. “Beautiful Lionsault by Wildchild but Aecas has got him trapped!” Mak cries out as Aecas quickly sits up, keeping a hard grip on the throat of the Bahama Bomber, Wildchild desperately slamming punches into the gut of the champion, trying to loosen his grip. Its to no avail however as Aecas grabs a handful of WC’s tights and hoists him up into the air, but the Human Hurricane brings his knees up as he’s lifted, cracking them solidly into Aecas’ chin. The Black Angel quickly drops his challenger, and WC is even quicker to hit the ropes once more, leaping high and trying for another Flying Forearm but Aecas won’t be moved. His huge right arm wraps itself around the upper body of the Bahama Bomber before the champion drives his small opponent hard into the canvas with a modified STO, stopping his momentum dead and dropping down for another cover. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … THR-NOKICKOUT!!!!!!!! The fans come alive as WC still kicks out strongly, the Caribbean Cruiser rolling to his front and clutching at the back of his head before a large hand grabs hold of his braids once more and wrenches him back up to his feet. A huge boot to the gut dispels any notions of resistance for a brief moment as Aecas wraps his huge right arm around WC’s head, his left hand grabbing another handful of the Bahama Bomber’s tights. Aecas hauls his opponent off of his feet, the giant holding the challenger effortlessly above his head forming a two man tower as the Black Angel lets WC think about what’s happening for a moment before he drops him straight south; catering his head into the canvas with a solid, cringe inducing Brainbuster. The crowd erupts again as the two men hit the canvas, Wildchild sitting back up again after the impact, a dazed expression on his face and his head lolling before he flops back down to the canvas. Aecas quickly covering his challenger once more as Eddy Long rushes over to count the pinfall. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … KICKOUT!!!!!!!! Dazed though he might be, Wildchild still has enough wits about him to kick out a second after Long’s palm slaps the canvas for two; Aecas quickly pulls WC back up to his feet once again. Irish Whipping the challenger into the nearest corner before charging in after him like a rampaging bull. Wildchild hits the corner turnbuckles hard but still manages to get both boots up and smash them into the face of his giant opponent, stopping the Black Angel dead in his tracks. “Aecas is trying to keep taking the fight to his challenger but Wildchild has got the drop on him again!” “Like I said before Mak, speed is going to be the decisive factor here. But Wildchild needs to hit something big and he needs to do it fast! He can’t afford to take many more hits like that.” Wildchild is doing just that, the champion boosting himself up to sit on the top turnbuckle wrapping his right arm around the head of the giant and leaping away from the corner twisting his body in mid air as he tries to plant Aecas headfirst into the canvas with a Tornado DDT. The Black Angel’s arms grab WC firmly around the waist, moving with his challenger and planting the Bahama Bomber firmly back on his feet. Having avoided the DDT Aecas quickly wraps his arms around WC’s waist hauling him up into the air for a Northern Lights Suplex into the turnbuckles. Unfortunately for Aecas Wildchild again doesn’t go willingly, the Human Hurricane tightening his arm around the giant’s head and bringing his knees into play once more, smashing them into the gut of the champion as he fights the Suplex with all his might. Eventually gravity takes hold, aided by the vicious knee smashes and Aecas cannot keep his grip on the writhing champion. The Bahama Bomber throws all his weight backwards, dragging Aecas’ head down as he finally completes the move, drilling the giant’s head into the canvas with a monstrous DDT! “Well that’ll stop your momentum in a hurry!” Mak observes as Wildchild rolls away from the champion, pushing himself up to his knees as he clutches at his head with both hands, trying to fight off the pain as Aecas is already starting to stir on the canvas. Forcing himself back up to his feet Wildchild backs up a few steps, watching the champion intently as he keeps one hand at the back of his head, massaging his sore neck. As son as Aecas rises to one knee he makes his move, rushing back across the ring and leaping up into the air, draping his right leg over the back of Aecas’ head and smashing the champion face first into the canvas once more. “Caribbean Cutter!” Mak cries out as the move hits home, the fans making their presence known all the more as Wildchild slowly rolls his huge opponent over and covers him again, hooking one large leg with all his might as the fans count along with the referee. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … KICKOUT!!!!!!!! Aecas gets the shoulder up once again, roughly tossing Wildchild off of him before he rolls himself under the bottom rope and out of the ring. Melissa quickly makes herself scarce as the champion’s feet touch the floor, moving over to the announcer’s table and voicing her support for Wildchild along with the fans as he too doggedly gets back up to his feet. The Caribbean Cruiser is quickly on the move once more, rushing across the ring with a second Basement Dropkick, catching Aecas right in the face and sending the champion staggering back into the guardrail much to the delight of the fans. With his opponent temporarily incapacitated, Wildchild retreats to the far side of the ring, mounting the turnbuckle and showing off his obscene ability to balance as he perches on the top rope, watching Aecas intently. The moment the Black Angel starts to push himself away from the guardrail Wildchild is one the move, the Bahama Bomber stunning the fans both in attendance and at home as he runs across the tope rope. The fans are gob smacked but that doesn’t stop the cheers from rising louder and louder as the Caribbean Cruiser reaches the far turnbuckle and without a thought for his personal safely launches himself into the air and smashes Aecas back into the guardrail with a massive Somersault Senton splash. “Sweet other of GOD Mak!” Is all the Suicide King can say as Wildchild slowly picks himself up and thrusts his arms into the air before sagging back against the guardrail for a moment, the fans going ballistic as Aecas lays slumped against the bottom of the guardrail, a look of what might be astonishment on his face. “Andros Dive! These fans can’t believe it, and I don’t think Aecas can either!” Mak shrieks as Eddy Long moves up to the ropes and begins to count out both men. The crowd is buzzing after such a display, several highly accented “WILDCHILD!” chants starting to break out as the Bahama Bomber grabs one of Aecas’ arms and strains to drag his huge opponent away from the guard rail. The challenger heaves with all his might but can do little to shift the giant champion, WC is forced to stop his efforts as Long’s count reaches eight, the Bahama Bomber sliding into the ring and then immediately sliding back out. “Smart move by the challenger. He knows he can’t win the belt by count out so he’s got to get Aecas back in the ring somehow.” Wildchild grabs Aecas’ arm once more but this time gets pushed away as the champion starts to recover some of his coherence after his challenger’s insane leap that sandwiched him into the guard rail. Not to be put off WC darts back in to slam a stiff punch into the side of Aecas’ head, quickly following it up with a second as Aecas’ head snaps back from the first. The gauze covered fist rattles the head of the champion but he’s certainly not out of it enough not to fight back, and fight back he does, one huge forearm sledge hammering itself into Wildchild’s face and dropping the Bahama Bomber where he stands. Hearing Long’s count starting to ratchet up again Aecas rolls back into the ring, slowly getting back up to his feet and draping his arms over the ropes as he watches Wildchild get back to his feet, shrugging off Melissa’s helping hand as he looks up angrily at the champion. Aecas steps back from the ropes after a few moments and raises his hands, urging the Bahama Bomber to get back into the ring. Wildchild is only to happy to oblige, leaping back up to the apron and gripping the top rope in both hands before springboarding himself back into the ring at Aecas, feet first. Wildchild may be fast but this time Aecas can see him coming and the big man manages to swat those questing feet aside, giving nothing to Wildchild except a rough landing on the canvas. “Shot and a miss with the Dropkick.” Mak quips as Aecas quickly dives on the rising Wildchild, arms wrapping around the smaller mans middle in a tight waist lock before Aecas heaves his opponent backwards for a German Suplex. The Caribbean Cruiser is simply too quick, slipping out of the champion’s grasp in mid air and somersaulting out to land neatly on his feet as Aecas lands on his back. The champion sits up, quickly moving to his knees but he’s already given Wildchild all the opening that he needs as the Bahama Bomber charges in and flips over the champion, grabbing his head in mid flip and planting his face squarely into the canvas. “Whiplash!” Mak cries out. “This one could be it!” “Come on Long get in there and count!” The Suicide King screams as the referee dives for the mat, the acid tongued announcer now counting along gleefully. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!! … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! But it’s not to be as Aecas’ shoulder comes sharply off the canvas before Long can strike three, the kickout getting another mixed reaction from the fans, half in favor of Aecas and half in the favor of the Wildchild. “Wildchild has gone for every cover he can in the course of this match, but he’s still not been able to put Aecas away yet.” Mak observes as WC grabs the champion by the hair and starts to drag him back up into a sitting position. “He’s playing it smart; take every opportunity you can get. It only takes three seconds to make you a new champion but the real challenge is keeping a man that size down for that long.” Having pulled Aecas back up to a sitting position, Wildchild gives him a simple and effective punch to the temple before taking a step back and crouching down, watching the champion intently as he starts to slowly pick himself up. “And Wildchild is stalking Aecas!” Mak exclaims. “I never thought I’d hear myself say that!” He muses as an afterthought as Aecas gets up to one knee and then rises slowly up to his feet. Wildchild makes his move, dashing past the champion and leaping with almost inhuman grace to the top rope on the far side of the ring, the fans coming alive once more as he curls up into a ball and then hurls himself back into the ring. Aecas has just enough time to see the 214lb cannonball coming at him before the challenger thuds squarely into his chest, sending him stumbling back into the ropes as Wildchild crashes down to the canvas. Neither man moves for a moment, but it’s Wildchild who makes the first move, pushing himself back up to his feet as quickly as he can before he charges the champion as he lies on the ropes. Confused as he might be by the sheer speed of Wildchild’s attacks Aecas’ brain still functions and tells him to simply fall out of the way as Wildchild leaps for him yet again. The Black Angel’s legs go out from under him, his hands grabbing hold of the top rope and yanking it down as Wildchild sails neatly over the top of him in a cross body attempt. One arm catches the bent top rope and instead of sailing six feet to a hard landing in the aisle Wildchild crashes first onto the apron and then down onto the ring mats covering the hard asphalt to sympathetic groans from many of the closest fans. “Well that’s one instance where being quick won’t help you.” The Suicide King says dryly as Aecas slowly rolls out of the ring after his opponent, Melissa Fasaki quickly abandoning her efforts to check on Wildchild as the champion looms into view once again. Aecas is quick to pull his challenger off the floor, rolling the Bahama Bomber back into the ring and sliding in after him to grab him by the hair and pull him back to his feet once more. A solid forearm shot sends the Human Hurricane staggering back into the ropes, a second almost sending him out of the ring before the Black Angel grabs him by the shoulders, twisting him around and grabbing a solid waistlock. Aecas tries for a second German Suplex attempt but Wildchild is too close to the ropes, the Bahama Bomber desperately hooking legs and arms into the cabling to block the move. Undaunted Aecas simply loosens his grip long enough to slam another solid forearm into the back of WC’s head, that in turn loosens Wildchild’s deathgrip on the ropes, allowing Aecas to drag him back a pace and plant his challenger squarely on his head with a German Suplex. Long is ready to go for the count but Aecas apparently isn’t done, keeping the waistlock tight and rolling himself onto his front before getting back up to his feet, taking Wildchild with him and altering his grip, putting the Bahama Bomber’s left arm in a Half Nelson before grabbing the right arm and dragging it across the throat of the challenger. “Cobra Clutch!” Mak cries out before Aecas puts the nail in the coffin, arching back and spiking Wildchild on his head a second time with a Cobra Clutch Suplex, letting the now limp form of his challenger collapse to the canvas before quickly applying a lateral press. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!!!!!!! … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOFOOTONTHEROPE! At the last possible second Wildchild manages to find the presence of mind to drape his foot over the bottom rope, just within reach, Melissa Fasaki screaming at Eddy Long who barley manages to halt the count, the fans erupting anew as Wildchild stays in the fight. “Wildchild’s not done yet! He wants that belt so bad he can taste it!” Mak shrieks as Aecas looks up in surprise that he didn’t get a three count, slowly pushing himself back to his feet as Melissa implores Wildchild to get up. “And he had to use the ropes to save himself? One more big move and this is over Mak.” The Suicide King says sullenly as Aecas raises three fingers and a questioning look to referee Eddy Long. “Then again if the champion is stupid enough to take his attention from his opponent I could be wrong.” King sneers as Long kicks the bottom rope with his foot in indication of a rope break before the three. “We don’t agree all that often King but you’re right. Aecas should be focusing solely on putting away his opponent, not questioning Eddy’s decision.” Mak reluctantly affirms as the Black Angel turns back to his opponent, finding that Wildchild is haphazardly lifting himself back up to his feet, using the ropes for leverage as he staggers upright. A large hand grabs one shoulder of the challenger and spins him around before the champion takes hold of an arm and Irish Whips him across the ring to a hard landing in the corner. The Black Angel backs up a pace and then charges in at WC, the ring shaking with his footsteps, his right foot snaps up to Yakuza Kick Wildchild’s face off but ends up stranded on the top rope as the challenger dives aside at the last possible moment. Wildchild reacts as quickly as he can as Aecas tries to free his leg, leaping as high as his aching body will carry him and cracking his foot into the back of Aecas’ head with an Enzugiri that rocks the big man where he stands. Aecas shakes his head after the blow, managing to free his leg before he turns right into a desperation Gamengiri that sends him sprawling back into the corner. The fans start to come alive once again as Wildchild boots Aecas solidly in the gut, the champion over as WC turns his back on his huge opponent, reaching backwards and starting to underhook the arms. “Double Underhook! We could be in for a Wild Driver King!” Mak cries, echoing the cheering of the fans as having captured the left arm Wildchild tries to grab hold of the right, but just as the Bahama Bomber is not out of action yet neither is Aecas. The cheering of the fans sways again as the Black Angel’s greater strength easily allows him to free his left arm from Wildchild’s desperate clutches after a brief struggle. The Black Angel quickly pushing his head forwards between the challengers legs, hands grabbing WC by the knees as he straightens up and the challenger finds himself seven feet in the air. The fans are on their feet as Aecas slowly walks out of the corner, Wildchild slamming punch after punch into the head of the champion, in a desperate attempt to slow him down. Aecas flinches with each strike, raising his arms to try and ward off the blows, finally capturing one and then both hands, letting Wildchild struggle and strain on his shoulders as he turns around slowly, the fans screaming for both men as they know the end is nigh. “There’s nowhere for Wildchild to go!” Mak yells above the fans as Aecas crosses Wildchild’s arms in a version of a Straightjacket before he arches backwards. The champion topples like a falling tree into a huge bridge position, smashing Wildchild head and neck first into the canvas and folding the challenger in half as he locks those trunk like legs into as tight a bridge as they can manage. “Ocean Cyclone Suplex!” Mak shrieks as the ring shakes from the impact and Eddy Long dives down onto his front to make the count. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … … … THREE!!!!!!!!!! DING! DING! DING! Aecas releases the bridge and his opponent as the bell sounds and “Death in Fire” starts to roar from the speakers once more. The Black Angel lies on his back, staring up at the sky as Wildchild slowly rolls over and flops onto his front, having enough strength to pull his arms up and clutch at his head. As a concerned Melissa looks on from ringside and Eddy long exits the squared circle to retrieve the belt Funyon raises his mic once more. “Ladies and Gentlemen! The winner of the match, and STILL SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION! The Black Angel! AYYYYYYECAAAAAAAS!” The fans explode once more as Aecas slowly sits up, gathering his legs beneath him and standing to accept his belt back from Eddy Long, the referee taking the champion’s left arm and raising it as high as he can as Aecas lifts the title in his right to the delight of the fans. “What a war we just witnessed King!” Mak exclaims, as excited as the fans as Aecas slowly lowers his arm, making his way to the ropes and leaning against them heavily for a moment before stepping out onto the apron and down to the floor. “And yet we’re still left with a crackpot for a champion Mak.” The Suicide King mutters as Aecas retrieves his scythe from the Timekeepers table and starts to make his way around the ring to the aisle. “That’s as maybe King but you can’t deny the spirit of Wildchild, he didn’t show the slightest bit of intimidation getting in that ring, took every chance he could and still came back for more.” “But he still lost Mak.” King says bitterly as Melissa Fasaki slides into the ring to check on Wildchild’s condition, the Bahama Bomber starting to stir, moving up to his knees as he clutches at the back of his head, pain easily readable on his face. “This time King. I doubt that’s the last time we’ll see these two men in action.” Mak replies solemnly as Aecas walks slowly down the aisle, pausing at the makeshift entranceway to lift both staff and title into the air once more, a slow shark like smile appearing on his face as the fans cheer all the louder at that simple action before he disappears to the backstage area. Back in the ring Melissa is helping Wildchild back to his feet, the Bahama Bomber is unsteady but he’s made of stern stuff and remains on his feet, slowly making his way to the ropes and half climbing, half falling down to the floor. He slowly makes his way down the aisle, one hand on Melissa’s shoulder to keep himself steady as the fans rally behind him; chanting the name of the Human Hurricane all the way to the back. “Well I hope all you folks at home enjoyed that match as much as we did. And you’re going to want to stay tuned because there is still more to come before the day is out!” Mak says as the cameras cut back to the announcers table. “Indeed there is. Coming up next we cue the blood.” The Suicide King says with a somewhat malicious smile. “We certainly do. Its going to be Manson against Landon Maddix in tonight’s scheduled Hardcore match.” “I almost feel sorry for Manson. Maddix was embarrassed by a loss to Zyon on Storm and Manson drew the short straw to be crash dummy.” “Maddix made a bold statement and couldn’t back it up King. He’s got nobody to blame but himself.” Mak says evenly. “And a win over the World Champion, even if it was a non title match is one hell of a statement.” “Rubbish, Zyon got lucky Mak. End of story. He’d better pray he doesn’t run into Maddix backstage one of these days or things will get very ugly.” “Well we’ll see King. We’ll see. That aside we need to drop to commercial for a few minutes folks but stay tuned, Manson Vs. Landon Maddix is up next!” Edited June 1, 2006 by chirs3 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 (edited) ‘The Game’ by Disturbed hits. Landon enters. Boo. ‘Crusher Destroyer’ by Mastodon hits. Manson enters. Boo, also. “Oh. It’s a match,” Mak says. “Fuck Maddix,” King snorts. Manson pursues Maddix. Maddix avoids. He then ducks under a Manson clothesline, wrapping around him and going for a behind waistlock and HOLY SHIT MANSON’S OVERPOWERING AURA DOESN’T EVEN ALLOW MADDIX TO GET NEAR HIM AS HE’S DECIMATED UPON TRYING TO MAKE A GRAB FOR MANSON AS A HOLE IS BLASTED RIGHT THROUGH HIS CHEST LEAVING NOTHING BUT A GAPING CAVITY AS HE COLLAPSES TO THE GROUND AND MEGAN SKYE LOOKS ON HORRIFIED! “YES!” shouts King. “MANSONALITY!” Funyon sighs as he stands, knowing the routine by now, “By Mansonality, your winner…“ Manson places a foot on what’s left of Maddix, as every person in China bows down to Manson. “and NEW EMPEROR OF CHINA… MMMAAAAANNNNNSOOONNNN!” “Because I hate Spike,” says Mak, “it's official, I declare Emperor of China to be better than King of Cambodia.” Edited June 2, 2006 by chirs3 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted June 1, 2006 Lockdown returns from the final commercial break of the evening and a three year old camera toddler pans around Tiennamen Square, displaying signs decorated with the scribbly moon drawings of the Far East, as well as one that proclaims Spike & Johnson = Team Cock! "Welcome back to Lockdown, and it's time for the main event of the evening," Mak begins. "Thank God. I'm ready to get me a Chinese hooker," King breaks in. "Don't forget to tip her," Mak reminds the Gambling Man. "Anyway, as I was saying, it's the main event, and the tag team titles are on the line, as JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins defend against The New Doomtopians." "Advantage easily to the champs. It doesn't matter that they haven't wrestled together because both are great singles wrestlers with pretty decent tag experience. Not to mention that The New Doomtopians haven't wrestled for a few weeks," King points out. "Very true, King, but The New Doomtopians are familiar with each other in the ring. That might be enough to give them the uppherhand," Francis replies. "But they are big dorks with no titles between the two of them. Johnson and Jenkins have had a boatload of gold," King states. A phalanx of babies clamber up the light poles to hold orange filters in front of the bulbs as Incredibad's "Just 2 Guyz" blares over the speakers. The three Doomtopians walk out from...somewhere, and head towards the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation tag team championship! Introducing first, the challengers! Hailing from Doomopolis, Doomtopia and weighing in at five hundred, fifteen pounds and accompanied by Lois the Unethical, Jimmy the Doom and the Doomtopian Destroyer, they are The New Doomtopians!" Funyon shouts. Jimmy and the Destroyer slide inside while Lois heads to the other side of the ring. "Just 2 Guyz" is cut-off moments before it is revealed that Steve is a cunt, and the Smarktron whites out. The lights blast to full power and the sound of a needle scratching over vinyl can barely be heard over the booing crowd that knows what's coming. BAM! Norma Jean's "Creating Something Out of Nothing Only to Destroy It" roars through the crowd and bright lights flash at the mysterious area of entering. Spike walks out, hardcore belt hanging off his right shoulder, tag title on his left. Jenkins drops to one knee and crosses his arms in an X. 'Hollywood' rises back up and heads to the ring. "And now, the champions! First, from Hollywood, California, he weighs two hundred, twenty pounds, and along with being one-half of the Tag Team champions, is the Hardcore Gamers champion, 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins!" Funyon shouts. Jenkins waits outside the ring, not favoring his chances against the Doomstroyer and the Straight-Bread Sensation. Spike flips his hood back and crosses his arms once more. I do that rather well...don't you think? The cacophony of angry music known as Cryptopsy's "Crown of Horns" erupts from the speakers as red and white lights flash and smoke billows from the entranceway. JJ Johnson walks out, tag belt held aloft. "And his partner, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he weighs two hundred, thirty-three pounds, JJ Johnson!" Funyon yells. Johnson marches to the ring and slides in with Spike. JJ leaps to the middle turnbuckle and does his best Jim Caveziel impression. Johnson drops down and hands his belt to referee Nick Soapdish. Spike hands off his tag belt but slides the Hardcore title in his team's corner. Nick raises the belts up then hands them to Funyon for safekeeping. 'Hollywood' shrugs off his hoodie and Johnson slips out of his track jacket. JJ pokes Spike in the chest and points over his shoulder to the corner, letting Jenkins know he'll start things off. The Doomstroyer doesn't bother to converse with Jimmy and exits the ring. "Looks like we'll have to two martial artists start things off, and we just might see someone get knocked the fuck out," Mak states. "Not with those two. They could swing on each other for days, which, actually, doesn't sound so bad," King replies. Soapdish briefly checks both men for illegal objects (Illegal in a wrestling match, not illegal in China, because that list encompasses a shitload more than brass knuckles), comes up empty, and calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! JJ wants to circle and find the best point of attack, but Doom basically says, "Fuck that shit, motherfucker" but it's Jimmy the Doom, so it's more like, "With a mother to being of fucks and to shit in having fucked" and charges in. Johnson obliges Jimmy's foolhardiness with a snap elbow. However, unbeknownst to Johnson, elbows are a common food item in Doomtopia, and the Straight-Bread Sensation eats it up. Jimmy rears back and crashes down with a headbutt to what was baby JJ's fontanelle. BISHOPRIC! Doom follows up with a lanky knee to the stomach, doubling the Canadian over. Doom locks on a front facelock, but either he didn't lock the facelock on tight enough or Johnson is a master of unlocking and JJ slips behind Jimmy, hammerlock cinched in. The Doomtopian tries for a back elbow, but that's exactly what Johnson was hoping would happen. JJ lets go of the hammerlock and grabs Doom's elbow. Johnson yanks Jimmy down to the mat, spins out to scissor Doom's other arm, and in a matter of seconds, has the Frostbite III locked on. Soapdish drops to his belly to ask if the Straight-Breader wishes to give up while Johnson cranks back on the hold. However, cranking back like that leaves him susceptible to getting punted in the face by the Doomstroyer, which is exactly what happens. NOVITIATE! "Wow! Johnson almost had this match won in the opening minute! I can't believe how quickly he slapped on the Frostbite III," Francis says, in complete awe. "I told you, the champs are going to retain. Of course, I didn't imagine it would be this quickly," King adds. "Well, they haven't won yet, and anything can happen in the SWF," Mak points out. Johnson gets to his feet and heads for the Doomtopian Destroyer, but Soapdish quickly intervenes, forcing the Doomstroyer back to his corner. Jimmy the Doom stands up as well and cracks JJ in the back with a knee. Johnson whirls around and nails Doom with a spinning back fist, but Doom counters with a palm strike. Johnson takes the blow in stride and smacks Doom in the ribs with a back kick. JJ tries to close in on the Doomtopian, but Jimmy fires off a hand straight for Johnson's throat. The Canadian barely manages to knock Jimmy's arm away, wrap him up, and plant Doom with a spinebuster. JJ slides on top of Doom and smashes Jimmy with an elbow to the face. Johnson spikes another elbow into Doom's facial region, then just flips out and begins battering the Straight-Bread Sensation with punches. FLAGELLUM! SPUMONI! PESTIFEROUS! "I think that attempted Hand of Doom really sparked something inside Johnson, because he looks like he just wants to murder Jimmy the Doom," Mak says. "Can you blame him? It took him who knows how long to recover after his first throat injury, and I seriously doubt he wants another one any time soon. Or ever again," King points out." Soapdish yells at Johnson to cease his use of closed fists, and JJ obliges, instead smashing elbows into Jimmy's head. However, Doom isn't one to sit idly by and get his skull caved in, so the Straight-Breader peppers Johnson with short punches to the stomach. This does precisely jack-squat, so Jimmy wraps up Johnson's left arm with his right and does the same with JJ's right. Doom pulls Johnson in and smashes him with a headbutt. The Straight-Bread Sensation hits Johnson with another headbutt and then shoves JJ away. Jimmy scrambles up and tags in the Doomtopian Destroyer. JJ climbs to his feet and just barely ducks a fist the size of his head. Johnson lashes out with a kick to the Doomstroyer's left knee. JJ lands another leg kick then buries a foot in the Doomtopian Destroyer's gut. The Canadian drives two swift knees in the Destroyer's stomach, slaps on a front facelock, and takes the Doomstroyer over with a snap suplex. "JJ Johnson is really dominating this match so far. He's stronger than Jimmy the Doom, and is a lot quicker than the Doomtopian Destroyer. If he and Spike Jenkins can keep Jimmy the Doom out of the ring, they have a good shot of retaining the tag titles," Mak states. "I'm not so sure I agree with your strategy, Mak. Doom is a lot tougher than the Doomstroyer, so it might make more sense to isolate Jimmy, because if he's kept out of the ring, he'll be around to break up any pin attempts," King points out. Johnson gets to his feet, pulls the Doomtopian Destroyer into a seated position, and kicks him in the spine. JJ cracks the Doomstroyer with another cowboy kick. The Canuck reaches down and grabs hold of the Doomtopian's left arm. JJ tries to cinch in the Buffalo sleeper, but he gets smacked with a back fist. Johnson lets go of the Destroyer, who begins crawling towards his corner. JJ quickly recovers from the blow, sprints in front of the Doomstroyer, and kicks him in the face. SILICOSIS! The masked man falls on his side, and Johnson grabs his right arm. JJ remains standing while fully extending the Doomtopian's limb into an armbar. Nick Soapdish drops down to see if the Doomtopian Destroyer will submit, but doesn't get a response as Jimmy the Doom is already in the ring and flying towards Johnson. HONORIFIC! "That's one way to save your partner from a submission hold, just kick the other guy in the chest as hard as you can," Francis says. "Or, they could have just admitted defeat to the obviously superior team and I could be screwing some Beijing whore and drinking panda milk right now," King mutters. Spike deftly slips into the ring, darts toward the Straight-Bread Sensation, and laces a foot into his jaw. NASTURTIUM! Staggered from the superkick, Doom crashes into the ropes and is forced out of the ring by Nick Soapdish. Johnson and the Doomstroyer both reach their feet, and JJ shows off his speed by landing two kicks to the Doomtopian's head in rapid succession. Johnson applies an armwringer and transitions it into a snug front facelock. JJ walks the Doomstroyer to the champions' corner and tags in 'Hollywood'. Jenkins springs to the top turnbuckle and jumps. Spike plants both feet on the Doomstroyer's back, assisting Johnson with a DDT. "Nice teamwork from the champs with that double stomp and DDT combo. I wonder if Spike will want to turn up the pace against the Doomtopian Destroyer or go with his normal grinding, chain wrestling tempo," Mak states. "Either will probably be effective, but I'd think keeping the Doomstroyer on the mat would be a much better idea than running around like a coked-out monkey," King replies. JJ rolls out of the ring and Jenkins slaps on a side headlock. This is a mistake against a man that outweighs Jenkins by over sixty pounds. The Doomstroyer easily rises to his feet and takes 'Hollywood' off the mat. Spike hangs on with one hand and slams a palm into the Doomtopian's throat with the other. The Destroyer's knees buckle, giving Jenkins a shorter drop. Back on two feet, 'Hollywood' is quick to leave them with a dropkick to the big man's right knee. Jenkins kips up, races for the ropes, and knocks the Doomtopian Destroyer to the mat with a soccer tackle. Spike forces the Doomstroyer to his knees and locks on a cravat. "Well, it looks like Spike Jenkins is looking to grind things out and slowly wear down the Doomtopian Destroyer. Then again, he uses a cravat in nearly every match, so there's no telling what direction he'll take," Francis says. "I like the idea, but I think that the Doomstroyer is a bit too fresh to use a cravat. Now, if it were against Jimmy the Doom, it'd be great, because Doom isn't that much bigger or stronger than Jenkins," King points out. The Doomtopian remains on his knees while Jenkins cranks down on his head. The Destroyer tries to shove Spike off, but 'Hollywood' has the cravat on too tight for such simple measures, no matter how strong his opponent is. A kidney punch, though, is a different matter altogether. "That's a surefire way to get someone to piss blood," Francis comments. "For at least a week," King adds. Jenkins keeps the hold cinched in, despite a second blow to his renal area. A third nearly gets the job done, but 'Hollywood' digs a heel into the Doomstroyer's gut, winding the big man, and allowing Spike to get a better grip on the cravat. 'Hollywood' shimmies towards his corner and tags in Johnson, who swoops in and traps the Doomtopian in a front facelock the moment Spike gives up the cravat. JJ lands hammer-fisted blows to the Doomstroyer's back as Jenkins drills a quartet of knees into his face and torso. Nick Soapdish forces Spike out of the ring, but it's only momentary as Johnson tags in 'Hollywood'. Jenkins zips between the middle and top ropes, dropkicking the Destroyer in the ribs. Spike grabs for the cravat as JJ releases his front facelock. The Canadian springs off the middle rope and cracks the Doomtopian in the face with an elbow, presumably on the bridge of the nose, but it's really hard to tell with that mask. INVEIGLE! "The champs are really taking it to the Doomstroyer with quick tags and a focused attack on his head and neck," Francis states. "And it's a damned good plan. There's no way they'd be able to make a dent in Jimmy the Doom's skull. I find it odd that the bigger Doomtopian Destroyer has a much weaker chin and overall constitution," King says. "Well, maybe he's not had to live such a hard life as Jimmy the Doom, and never really needed to get tough. I agree that it'd be nearly impossible to make much of an impact on Doom. He must have a metal head or something," Mak replies. Spike loosens the cravat a bit, only to quickly spin it into a reverse face lock. Jenkins tries to twist the Doomstroyer down, but the masked man grabs Spike's hair and flips him over, wrenching free of his grip. The Destroyer makes his way towards his own corner, but 'Hollywood' is back on his feet. Spike cocks his right arm back and slams it into the Doomtopian's shoulder blades. Were he a much, much smaller man, there is no doubt that the Doomstroyer would have crumpled to Spike's lariat. However, the Destroyer is by no means a small man, and the most it does is knock him forward. The Doomtopian turns around, wraps both hands around Jenkins' throat and chucks him into the challengers' corner. The Straight-Bread Sensation cracks 'Hollywood' with a palmstrike to the temple, then reaches out and tags the Doomstroyer. "We almost saw The Fall of Rome from Spike Jenkins! Jenkins and Johnson have come close to ending the match twice, but to no avail." "Are you stupid? They haven't even gone for a pinfall yet. Sure, JJ had the Frostbite III on for about a second, but Spike only got to the very first part of the set-up to The Fall of Rome," King points out. "I mean, I'm sure they'll win, but not just yet." "I'm simply amazed at how many times you contradict yourself each match, let alone throughout the entire night," Mak replies. Doom enters the ring and keeps 'Hollywood' in the corner with two quick palmstrikes. Jimmy backs out to the middle of the ring and then charges Spike. There's a good chance Jenkins could have avoided the headlock had the Doomstroyer not been gripping the waistband of his pants, but that's neither here nor there. The Straight-Bread Sensation hauls Spike out of the corner and down to the mat. Jimmy bounces off the ropes, leaps, and contorts in mid-air, crashing down on Spike's head. Doom rolls over and makes a lateral press. ONE! TW-No! "Kick out from Jenkins after that corkscrew headbutt. JJ Johnson must have been pretty confident in his new tag partner, because he didn't even leave the ring apron," Mak points out. "Well, it's early and Spike hasn't sustained much punishment, and besides, Johnson could traverse the ring in a split second if he needed to," King notes. The Straight-Breader pulls 'Hollywood' to his feet and rockets him into the ropes. Spike flies back towards Doom and manages to sidestep a snap kick. Jenkins reaches out, throws an arm across Doom's chest and sweeps him to the mat. 'Hollywood' climbs back up, walks away from Jimmy, then rushes back to nail him with a baseball slide dropkick to the head that has the added bonus of boots scraping across Doom's face. HOMILETICS! "Nice STO from Jenkins to slow down Doom, and that dropkick was just brutal," Mak states. "Pile on about forty more and it should be enough to put Jimmy the Doom away," King mutters. 'Hollywood' drags the Straight-Breader to his feet and laces into him with a shotei to the jaw. Doom fires off one of his own, knocking Spike back a half step. Jenkins closes in and snaps Jimmy's head back with an European uppercut. The Hardcore Gamers champ grabs Doom around the head and drops to one knee, cravat cinched in tight. The Doomtopian punches Jenkins in the back a few times, and what with Spike's previous experience involving a New Doomtopian, a cravat, and repeated blows to the back, it's more than enough to get the lumbago going, and Doom is able to slip free. "It looks like Spike's back has taken a bit of a beating already. Jimmy the Doom packs some pop, but those earlier bombs from the Doomtopian Destroyer are really what did it," Francis points out. "Uh duh!" King exclaims disdainfully. "Listen up, King, I only explain things in the simplest manner possible because I want your illegitimate children to know what's going on and have a better understanding of wrestling," Mak snaps back. "Well, that's very thoughtful. I'm sure your girlfriend appreciates it, as all of those kids can be a handful. Speaking of which, this tour is almost over, baby, so I'll be seeing you real soon," King says. Jenkins spins away from Jimmy, not wanting to be caught offguard. However, 'Hollywood' has no such qualms about catching the Straight-Breader offguard, and knocks him flat with a lariat. INTROIT! Spike rushes over and tags Johnson into the match. JJ slips inside the ring to find the Doomtopian standing, so Johnson attempts to rectify this situation with a running shotgun lariat. HEGIRA! Johnson drops on top of Jimmy and hooks both legs, making a lateral press. ONE! TW-No! "Kickout from Jimmy the Doom after two vicious lariats from arguably, two of the three men who best know how to deliver a lariat in the SWF. The other, of course, being Manson," Francis states. "Oh yeah. Manson will fuck you up with one of his lariats, and how!" King exclaims. JJ yanks the Straight-Bread Sensation off the mat and whips him to the ropes. Johnson whirls around and knocks Doom flat with a roaring elbow. CALYX! The Canadian tags 'Hollywood', who springs onto the top turnbuckle and then leaps, landing on Jimmy the Doom's chest. Spike jumps again, this time driving a leg into the Doomtopian's throat. Jenkins reaches out and makes a lateral press. ONE! TWO! TH-No! "And Doom gets a shoulder up! I'm surprised that a rolling elbow, a top rope double stomp, and a legdrop just barely got a two count," Francis mumbles. "Pshaw! The fact that it barely got a two count says a lot! It means that JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins are really taking it to Doom," King replies. 'Hollywood' drags Jimmy off the mat and attempts an Irish whip, only to be reversed. Spike races back towards Doom off the rebound and gets scooped off his feet. Jimmy spins Jenkins around then drills him with an inverted atomic drop. The Hardcore champ stumbles away, but not far enough to escape the Straight-Breader's grasp, and Doom hoists Jenkins with a two handed choke hold. Jimmy turns around and sits out, staying down to make a cover. ONE! Johnson rushes into the ring, completely oblivious to Doom and Nick Soapdish. The Doomstroyer, though, sees it clear as day and climbs in as well. TWO-No! SPELEOLOGY! "Nice kick to the back of the head by Johnson to break up that pinning Jimmy Bomb," Mak comments. "And if he and Spike play their cards right, they just might be able to get in a good bit of double teaming," King points out. The Doomstroyer tries to swing on JJ, but the Canuck takes the advice of the popular local dish and Peking ducks. Soapdish quickly steps between the two men and forces back to their respective corners. "Blast!" King yells. "Maybe next time, King. Maybe next time," Mak says. "Don't you try to console me!" the Heartbreaker roars. "That's for my Chinese prostitute to do later tonight." Jimmy rises to his feet, grabs Spike by the arm, and pulls up the double champion. Doom performs an armwringer, bending 'Hollywood' forward, and drags Jenkins towards The New Doomtopians' corner. The Straight-Bread Sensation tags in his giant partner, who kicks Spike in the face. Jimmy keeps hold of Spike's arm long enough to let the Doomstroyer duck under the limb and wrap Jenkins up in a choke hold. 'Hollywood' flails about as Soapdish inquires as to his willingness to submit. "The champs might be in trouble! The Doomtopian Destroyer has Spike Jenkins trapped in a choke hold, and, with his strength, it's got to be tight," Francis notes. "That's true, but Spike can be squirmy. Besides, JJ Johnson is there to bail him out if needed," King points out. The Doomstroyer squeezes even tighter, forcing Spike's own arm deeper into his throat, prompting Soapdish to see if Jenkins wants to give up. However, seeing as the oxygen supply to his head is being cut off, 'Hollywood' isn't really able to reply, so he just flails around some more. Johnson, though, is perfectly able to enter the ring, run across and kick the Doomtopian Destroyer directly in the brain, bypassing the skull completely. So that's just what he does. OPPROBRIUM! "Just as Spike Jenkins looked to be wilting, JJ Johnson proves his worth as a tag team partner by scrambling the Doomtopian Destroyer's brains with that kick!" Francis yelps. "One of my favorite ways to make a save in a tag match. My absolute favorite, though, would be hitting a guy with a bat or something," King says. Stretching his full six feet and five inches, Jimmy the Doom tags a kneeling and possibly concussed Doomstroyer. Soapdish barely acknowledges the tag as he forces Johnson out of the ring. The Straight-Breader hops in and elbows a groggy Jenkins in the mouth. Spike drops to one knee and Doom takes off for the ropes. Jimmy flies towards 'Hollywood' and knocks him flat as the Doomstroyer crawls out of the ring with help from a shrieking Nick Soapdish STRONTIUM! "A...uh, shining Yak kick?" Francis mumbles. "Sure, why the hell not," King replies, mixing himself up a white Mongolian, which is similar to a white Russian, only panda milk is used. Sweet, sweet panda milk. Doom makes a lateral press on the downed Jenkins, but he stupidly forgets to hook the legs. ONE! TWO! THRE-No! "And Jenkins gets a shoulder up! He really needs to find a way to tag in JJ Johnson if he wants to walk out of Beijing a double champ," Mak says. "He should call a time out so he can recover a bit," King states. "If there were such a thing, I'm sure he would," Francis replies. "Oh, time outs exist in professional wrestling, you just have to know which referees allow them, or what it will cost to get one to allow a time out." The Straight-Bread Sensation lifts Jenkins off the mat, but gets a thumb poked in his eye. Spike tries to whip Jimmy into the corner, but Doom reverses and sends 'Hollywood' straight towards the Doomtopian Destroyer. Who just so happens to have his massive right hand cocked back. And the Doomstroyer also happens to be screaming something very loudly, and, in the context of everything, something very odd. "HAVA NAGILA!" HELLGRAMMITE! Spike Jenkins reels backwards from the heart punch to end all heart punches, and, as he wonders how good the cardiologists are in Beijing, he begins experiencing a new feeling. By no means is it as painful as the heart punch, but still, getting slammed onto an already tenderized back is no picnic. Doom slides forward, trying to force Spike into the acutest of angles, with only shoulder blades and up touching the mat. Soapdish drops to his knees and begins to count the pin. ONE! JJ Johnson leaps into the ring, sprinting towards the opposite corner. TWO! The Doomstroyer steps inside the squared circle and in front of Doom and 'Hollywood'. THREE! Johnson slides under the Doomtopian Destroyer's legs, connecting with Spike, but in doing so, flipping him over and breaking up the pin. DING! DING! DING! However, he's a fraction too late as Soapdish jumps up, three fingers held high in the air, signifying the end of the match, not his racist perception of the average length of a Chinese man's penis, in inches. "Hava Nagila! The Hava Nagila has won the match for The New Doomtopians, and they are the new tag team champions!" Mak screams. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" King yells, slamming his fist down on the announcer's table and spilling his white Mongolian. "Damn it!" Incredibad's "Just 2 Guyz" sounds again for the second time as both Doomtopians are presented with the tag titles. "Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match, and new tag team champions, The New Doomtopians!" Funyon shouts. Spike and Johnson are left in the ring to presumably play the blame game as Lockdown fades out completely. Or does it?! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
