the.weej
-
Content count
1334 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Posts posted by the.weej
-
-
Card:
MAIN EVENT
TAG TEAM EXTRAVAGANZA!!!
Toxxic and Sean Davis vs Annie Eclectic and Todd Cortez
If you read promos, or maybe even matches, you should be able to gather why this match is happening. At any rate, a heat is boiling here and this is the final ingredient before it blows at Ashes 2 Ashes. Should be good.
Rules: Standard tag rules. Duh.
HARDCORE NON-TITLE MATCH
Andrea Montgomery vs Carnage
Before Carnage cashes in on his World Title show presumably right after the PPV, he’s got to defend his HCG Championship against *someone*. By the time this match happens, we’ll already have a #1 Contender from the match before this to face the C-Man at A2A, but this isn’t just typical warm-up. If Carnage wins here, then it’ll be him vs. ? at the PPV, but if Andrea wins, it will be Carnage vs. Andrea vs. ? for the HCG Title. So, it’s up to Carnage here… come Ashes 2 Ashes… will he be defending his belt against one, or two?
Rules: Rules suck.
HARDCORE-GAMERS TITLE SHOT FREE-FOR-ALL!!!
Austin Sly vs. Christian Fury vs. Manson vs. Mike Hall vs. Danny Dagda vs. Evan Wolfe
Well someone has to face Carnage at the PPV, eh? Yes, this is just filler, but whoever wins here will actually have a match set for the PPV. You can’t say that for everyone, eh?
Rules: No rules. The first man to get a pin or submission on another man is the winner. Good for him. Please someone. Show.
-
Actually, I meant you should send Hannon to Boston. I mean, come on, man.
...or New York, if you want to be a cock.
-Z
-
We all gotta' fly away eventually; we can't stay chained down forever. I was going to wait until after I posted the PPV card to put this up, but since Mark's already done his and I decided to collect my thoughts early and work on this tonight, I figured I might as well just post it now. After I make the Ashes 2 Ashes card, I'm officially done with SWF in any capacity.
The SWF has been a hell of an experience for me, and maybe I'm being egotistical, but I think the mark I've left on it has been pretty indellible. Barely anyone remembers my writing career now, but I had one of the more original characters ever that I deply regret not letting see its full potential, I was part of the most amazing stable in the fed's history, I actually led it for about five minutes, I got to be involved in a couple of awesome angles, I was part of one of the most memorable matches in SWF history, I wrote the Rise and Fall of Chrissy Stardust and the Lovin' Spoonful, I beat Tom Flesher twice(!) and I did finally get to finish the one angle I always wanted to do. I think my greatest impact, and greatest contribution, is as a booker, though. I loved getting the chance to book, and then run, the JL, because I really felt I was doing good to influence writers who turned out to be some of my favourite ever, like Judge, Ejiro and Wildchild, and I've always taken a bit of pride in the fact there's only two or three cards I can ever remember booking that people were vocal about disliking. I also find it oddly amusing that I was the first of my generation to retire, but I'm going to be the last of my generation to leave.
I believe the greatest influence I've had was, for better or for worse, the way I helped change the way people write matches and approach writing matches. Though the idea of evolving the way people write matches into legitimate stories instead of just descriptions of moves was something started by guys like Edwin and their ilk, people like Tom, Kibagami and others from that generation really made it the centerpeice of how they do things, and it's something I encouraged people to do even since before I got on CC. It's resulted in truly spectacular written matches, but I suppose the downside is that it's taken away from outside character development and turned focus away from angles. I guess that's evolution, though.
Anyway... I've got a lot of fond memories of this place, but I think it's just time to mosey on through. Mike -- yes, MVS -- is going to be taking over from me as head booker; I'm sure someone can take care of the modding/demodding duties. I honestly don't know how much I'm going to be around after this, but I'm sure I can't cut chat -- and surely not AIM -- out of my diet.
Now that I've said my peice, like any good cockslobbering retirement post, here's the part you've all been waiting for... the list of DEDICATIONS!
Tom - I still remember that first PM you sent me, wishing me luck with my match and hoping that, if you won, I'd take it better than Danny did. I can't help but think our friendship has weakened in the last couple of months, but hey, you're at law school, I don't fault you for that. You were a great buddy, and one of the best people around to bounce ideas off of. For all the tooting of my own horn I did above, you're ten times as indellible to the fed's identity than I'll ever been, and I respect you greatly on a personal and 'professional,' if you can even call it that, level. Thanks for the good times. I don't know why I ever turned down the countless offers to ride your coattails.
Kibagami - I remember a conversation I had with Tom the first time Thoth brought you into chat.
"So what do you think of Silent?"
"What an asshole."
Fortunately, my opinion could only improve from there. You're probably the best friend I've made in the fed, and I think it's funny that only happened because I pasted you in that one match we planned and you couldn't immediately write me off.
At least as good of a guy to bounce ideas off of as Tom, you were also totally willing to give criticism and honest apprasials of things whenever I asked, and I'm indebted to you for that. You've also provided undue sources of entertainment with 3am conversations about life, the universe and everything and punting around fools in chat whenever the fancy strikes. I suppose the only downside is that I've been forced to respect poetry and the arts thanks to you, you filthy son of a bitch.Janus - Another great buddy of mine, and maybe the most unlikely friendship I've made in nearly three years here. But hey, remember the circumstances, huh? I remember when I jobbed you to Mike for the JL world title, and you took the loss really hard, all I wanted to do was slap you because I thought you had all the talent in the world to become a phenom. You never really did, but I never lost that faith in your potential, as evidenced by my willingness to give you every oppertunity I could. I also love that Ebony has become a crossover success here for reasons I can't totally explain; tell her I'm sorry she never got proper payment for that first DNS match. I regret that the Dante Crane angle put you in a tight spot, and I'm still sorry about forcing that Genesis match on you like that. (Note: Yes, I was Dante Crane)
Annie - Okay, I have to admit it: If you were straight, I would've professed my undying love to you and proposed marraige a long time ago. I'm not even kidding. One of the things I regret, as a writer, was that we never did a single goddamned thing together. We never faced, we never tagged, nothing. It's a real shame, because we both unwittingly created this relatively deep Annie/Z relationship and face/heel turns, haituses and other crap stopped either of us from doing anything with it. Argh! Get it together and win the goddamned world title already, and get your Neo Geo roms sorted out again. I want to beat you at KoF again sometime.
Drew - I regret that we never really got to work together either, despite a couple of promises I made to you. Your quick wit was awesome and your writing skills were formidable, so it's really a shame you never got to make anything out of the latter, at least. I should speak to you more often, for the rare times you're on AIM. Keep at that wrestling training.
TBS - Same story as Annie and Drew: We never did anything together in a writing capacity, and that's a bit of a pity, because I think it might've had that bizarrely good quality to it. You're an outstanding pal, and I'll always love the fact we can kill chat dead in a second with sports talk, but keep going without noticing for up to an hour. Fuck the Yankees, baby!
Thoth - Another person I really, really, really wanted to get a competitive match against, but never had a good oppertunity. You showed me the light, the SNK, the glory of battle and the humble way of the warrior, and how can I possibly have anything but respect for you for that? You're a good fellow and I honestly really enjoy talking to you when you don't idle for 10 minutes between a response and keep your head on right. Stay on the straight and narrow.
TNT - Unlike TBS, Thoth, Annie and Drew, I regret ever having anything to do with you in a writing capacity. Sorry, I still hold that final JL match debacle against you. Few people match or exceed my general pop culture l337-ness and knowledge, but you're one of them. There's nothing like wasting a few hours discussing music, movies and whatever the hell else strikes the fancy. Remember those all-nighter IMs?
Judge - Outside of TBS, I've never had another guy to really talk sports with besides you. I always wished you'd promoed more once you got bumped to the WF, although who am I to argue with the end result in J&R? There's never been anyone as hyperactive and off-the-wall as you were in your first week in the fed, and it is almost TERRIFYING to compare that guy to the stoic, stately and intelligent fellow I know now. Pity college got you down; I always wanted to see you return.
WC - My favourite writer in the history of everything. I guess we started to develop a bit of strained booker/writer relationship after you made it into the WF, for a variety of reasons, but hey, this is a clean slate, I'm just going to forget all of that. When I read that Five Wounds match you wrote two years ago, I immediately thought, "Holy shit, this guy is going to become one of the greatest writers of all time." However, you never did shoot for the moon, and you were undyingly dedicated to your tag partner, your character angles and development, and the Cruserweight division. In many ways, I wish there were more guys like you.
Mike - The fed is yours now, Van Siclen. It might take people a little while to adjust to that, but I'll let them know now: You pay way more attention than anyone will ever realize, and you know much more than you'll ever let on. You'll do this fed some good, I'm sure of it. Be thankful no-one can remember Snow Demon or Jeremy Miller these days, though. S! L! I! D! E!
Edwin - My fondest memory: Keeing you home from work to finish War Games. Mr. Inspirational, Mr. Fearless Leader, Mr. Goodcomment, Mr. Comes-Through-In-The-Clutch, Mr. Overachiever, Mr. Booker, Mr. Promo, Mr. Champion, Mr. Greatest Ever, Mr. SWF.
Raynor - We never talked all that often, and I kinda' feel bad about that. You're a good guy. Unbelievably, we did NOTHING together, despite being in the Carnival at the same time for several months. Geez.
King - The man I inherited it all from. Although I sometimes think you put too much value on the fed and the importance of it when you were head booker, I cannot fault your unbelieveable dedication to everything. Without you, the fed has been dead since January 2003.
Mark - Classiest fellow I've ever met. Great guy, although I think you fell out of the loop sometimes. Sorry to see you leaving at the same time I am.
Muzz - I envy your talent and I wish you didn't have the self-confidence issues you do, although you seem to have reeled them in very well in the last couple of months. I think Sacred, and almost all of the characters you've done afterward, are a story of missed oppertunities. A pity, but oh well. You're a good guy, and I enjoy talking with you when I get the chance.
Crowe - Stupid fucking Bird! Another one of my favourite writers, and probably the best example of someone who took my suggestions and advice to heart when I was in charge of the JL. As I say, you didn't write wrestling drama, you wrote wrestling opera, goddamn. I think it absolutely sucks that you had to quit, because you would be tearing it up with Toxxic if you'd stuck around. Good luck with the business.
Crusen - Next to Janus, another especially odd friendship I've found. It took a while to warm up to each other, but you're fun to chat with about almost anything. Remember when I used to whip your ass at Yahoo pool? Good times. I still can't believe I got you hooked on the NHL.
Ced - Sometimes I think and wonder how both of our careers would've changed if I had turned down Edwin's invitation to the Carnival and kept tagging with you. A big, big part of the fed landscape would've been different, honestly.
IL - KEEP UP THE GOOD REBELLIOUS COOL APATHETIC PUNK WORK MY MAN
(ps. are you high?)
(pps. because I'm so high)
SS - I feel partially responsible for your evolving love of film, and that fills me with pride. You've got a ways to go until you're as l337 and knowledgeable as I, but you are well on your way. Good luck with the swim scholarship, and I hope that you can return sometime soon. You had all the tools.
Mak - Flyers suck, bitch. Just joshin'. I miss ya', Mak.
Frost - I think it's time to set the record straight on this: I've never disliked someone so intensely as you. You were like a Yankees fan; the fact you'd beaten me 481 times isn't what bothered me, but the fact you couldn't shut up about it made you intolerable.
Johnny - You were second after Frost. I respect the fact you always tried really hard, but you're such a pain in the ass it's not even funny. Get the fucking site up already!
Thugg - You ranked thrid after Johnny and Frost. Surprising, huh? I want to set the record straight on this, too: I never honestly hated you, Thugg, but we were just too much alike with too different ideals. In many ways, you could've been a benefit to the fed, and I think you could still be if you wanted to, with me now gone.
Spike - I don't hate you either, and I'm glad to see you putting in some extracurricular effort with the rankings. Those things are a kiss of death, though -- absolutely no-one has been able to keep them up. If you'd stopped going through this faux-Punk Rawk stage and ceased your inexplicable desire to pick a fight with me, I honestly might not have ever had much of a problem with you.
Wilson - I dunno, I just feel I should put you on here for some reason. Sorry about the Dolphins.
Merc - You're an odd one, but I always enjoyed your writing style and I think it's a HUGE missed oppertunity you had with Tryst. My favourite memory of you, although I don't think you even recall it, was the night that Kai owned you hardcore. It just came right out of left field. Kai? KAI!? Ahhhahahahahaha. I'm sorry Johnny never got your site design up and online.
Cutthroat & the Dark Reaper - I got my first win over you guys. Thanks for that, wherever you are now. Please no-one ever go looking for that match.
Toxxic - You're the future of the fed now, and I think it's in capable hands; you've learned very well from that loss to Johnny. I'd like to apologize for meddling in your storyline planning and being especially pushy with your direction early in your career; it backfired, as it usually does. I never learn. You too have all the tools, so give it everything you've got, ya' limey bastard.
Card - Speaking of limey bastards... you were a hell of a fun guy to have around, excluding when you got on that "Fronting Badass" kick. I think it's another tragedy and wasted oppertunity that you bailed on Va'aiga early as you did, because you could still be a cornerstone of the fed right now if you hadn't.
Duran - Same deal with you, man. I loved that you always tried pretty hard and came through when you knew something was at steak. It just never completely worked out, I guess. Keep up the SFBL; I don't know if I've mentioned it anywhere else, but I appreciate the huge amount of effort you put into that to make it awesome as it is.
Danny - You were as much of an achilies heel to me as Frost was. I was 0-8 against him, 0-6 against you. However, I don't really hold anything against you; you did always make me look good in your matches. I always got a kick out of "I'am."
Tod - I regret not telling you off about that terrible story you were writing. Seriously, dude, it had no promise; it sucked and I didn't want to read another word of it.
Matt Myers - I've never actually met someone who's such a prototypical example of a lame-ass emo kiddy as you. I honestly wish you were still around, because I'd enjoy studying you not unlike a person performing an autopsy.
GOdrea - You are the single most strange and bizarre person I've ever met, online, in the fed, or anywhere, and that speaks volumes. I had to make sure you were included here somewhere.
It's been real. All of you... adieu.
-Z
-
And I don't think there's any real question of where you should send him, Evo.
And as a note, the guy who's third in the league in Ks and first in his confrence gets passed on for the all-star game? Weak.
-Z
-
n00b. Do they really seem that strange these days?
-Z
-
Two things:
As always, Thoth has forgetten that TNT posts after him, not me, so that's been corrected.
Also, there is only one more show until Ashes 2 Ashes, so if you haven't already, it's time to get rolling on your PPV plans.
-Z
-
Nigel's the Pride's ace now, huh? Uh-oh.
On the upside, he's on pace for 402 Ks this season!
-Z
-
Tempted to just leave it as-is for Nigel, but that's probably not going to help his consistency issues.
Pure Stuff - 7
Velocity - 4
Control - 4
Stamina - 5
-z
-
I've no idea; they're supposed to decide. Spike may be getting the ICTV shot, given that he got the pin in the match. You'd have to ask.
-Z
-
Cortez & Jenkins.
And I made a note that Dustin is out, but TNT appears to have ignored it.
-Z
-
Urk. I just remembered that Dustin PMed me about having net troubles a while back, and I forgot to edit him off the roster. Sorry, Sly, but I wouldn't wait up for that.
-Z
-
Oh, also. I'd suggest condensing a few of the nominations into a single thread -- ones specifically related to each other, or losely related, or whatever. It won't clutter up the community board so much.
...not that it would impede any discussion or anything...
-Z
-
Don't worry about the Hall of Fame, Tom. CC already has that well underway.
A VERY IMPORTANT NOTE I'd like to make is that these threads are for NOMINATIONS ONLY, and absolutely NO voting should take place in them. Provided we sort the noms out quickly, the ballots will be up relatively soon.
-Z
-
Just for the record, there's no-one as the storyline commissioner at the moment. In storyline, you could say King is 'entertaining' new commissioner ideas, although he probably won't be deciding on something anytime soon. A commissioner isn't really necessary for anything.
-Z
-
The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...
SWF STORM! LIVE, FRIDAY OCTOBER 8TH, FROM THE *SOLD OUT* ROSE GARDEN IN PORTLAND, OREGON!
(8pm PCT, 11pm EST; check local listings)
Card:
MAIN EVENT
WORLD TITLE MATCH
TITLE VERSUS CAREER
Toxxic© vs Mike Van Siclen
On the show before last, MVS rudely interrupted a match between Andrea Montgomery and Toxxic for the world title by smoking Toxxic with a chair. I mean, holy shit, did you see that? What a shot! Toxxic's head snapped back, like, 45 fucking degrees! Take a seat, huh? Beautiful. Um, anyway, Mike's reall full of Toxxic's egocentric bullshit, as seeing too much of himself in one man is too much for anyone to take. He laid down the challange for the world title, and Toxxic was ready to blow him off, until Mike prepared the ultimate sacrifice: His career for the Straight Edge Sensation's belt. An oppertunity a limey like Toxxic can't refuse, of course. If Mike wins, he reaches the top of the mountain after one of the most enduring careers in SWF history... but if Toxxic wins, that career is put to bed forever.
Rules: Standard singles match. If Toxxic wins, Mike goes home.
Word Limit: 6000
Send To: realitycheck
DUMPSTER MATCH
ICTV TITLE BOUT
"The Icon" Max King© vs Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix
In what would definitley be considered an upset, Landon Maddix lost his ICTV championship to Max King a while back. Obviously, this is the sort of thing you can't just forgive and forget, so the eagerly anticipated rematch happens here, on Storm! And what better way to settle this than a match where someone's gotta' throw their opponent right where in belongs: In the trash!
Rules: There is a dumpster up at the top of the ramp, graciously provided by our friends at Laidlaw. The man who tosses his oppnent into the dumpster and closes the lid is the winner.
Word Limit: 5750
Send To: Thoth
TRIPLE THREAT
Andrea Montgomery vs Johnny Dangerous vs Ace Lezaire
The former world champion, Johnny Dangeous, gets his first chance to take on real tough competition since his Genesis V loss to the current world champion, Toxxic! He takes on Andrea Montgomery, who faced Toxxic for the world title two shows ago and could've squeaked out a victory if not for Mike Van Siclen's interferance, and Ace Leziare, the incredibly talented Canuck who's never quite been able to duck and weave out of the midcard! There's nothing on the line here except pride, and a possible reshuffling of the main event scene.
Rules: First pin wins.
Word Limit: 5000
Send To: Grand Slam
TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH
Revolution 0© vs David Cross & Christian Fury
Spike Jenkins and Sean Davis beat out Hollywood Boulevard for the tag straps at Genesis, ending the single longest tag team reign in history. However, with the tag scene as it is, they're really going to have to work to have their reputation rise to that of the greats. Christian Fury and David Cross are the reigning hardcore and USJL champions, respectively, and they've been teamed up in hopes their success can carry them into the tag division... and into double gold.
Rules: Standard tag team match. Don't forget the tag ropes.
Word Limit: 4500
Send To: chirs3
SINGLES MATCH
Evan Wolfe vs rKade
Wolfe and rKade were losers last show, and they look to correct that here. It would also help if rKade remembered to send his match to the correct marker this time.
Rules: Standard singles match.
Word Limit: 3500
Send To: 5_moves_of_doom
SINGLES MATCH
Uncle Filthy vs Carnage
UNCLE~! may be becoming one of the most quickly beloved nooblets in a long time, but unfortunately, he ended up taking a spill at the hands of everyone's favourite double no-show crushing misandrist ferret/weasel hybrid. Evil-doers beware! Erm. He and his 1-1 record take on Carnage, who won his debut match with all sorts of funky bold and itallic tags.
Rules: Standard singles match.
Word Limit: 3500
Send To: Suicide King
(Z notes: Word limits have generally been reduced, and if I couldn't think of a compelling matchup for people, I left them off the card for this one. This should give you guys an oppertunity to recuperate, and with any luck, toss in something extra for the show. Also, it's a few hours later than usual because of the time it took me to post.)
(Send all stuff to Thoth)
-
And that's all they wrote.
An alright show, although I'm once again disappointed with the general lack of promoage. I guess I can't complain too much, what with the nooblets promoing up and down the front page and whatnot.
Anyway, two notes: Zenon is definitely still retired, Birdman's promo off the top is an aberration, and the card will be up sometime tomorrow, as I'm heading off. Check out the Ebony match, and show your love for everyone's favourite sociopathic misandrist antromorphic furry!
-Z
-
“Well Citizens, it’s time for the main event!” the heroic voice of Cyclone Comet booms out of the world’s TV screens as the live feed returns to the Staples Center. “Get ready for a whirlwind of a match, because this is going to get very wild indeed!”
“We actually agree for once,” Bobby Riley says in mild surprise. “Of course, this match can only end when either Andrea Montgomery or Toxxic are pinned - so naturally, the Revolution Zero team are going to win.”
“Robert, in the words of our insufferable World Champion, ‘Prepare To Be Proved Wrong,” Comet teases.
“That’s copyrighted, you masked moron!”
Abruptly, the Smarktron whites out as every light in the arena hits ‘full’. For a moment all that can be heard is the faint scritch-scritch of a needle on vinyl. Then:
'WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!'
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The brutal guitars of "Battle Ready" by Otep kicks up immediately, and as the drums come in lightning spears down to touch off red and gold pyros-
*BOOOM!!*
-that almost obscure the sound stage in smoke! A moment passes as it slowly drifts, then five familiar figures emerge. ‘The Icon‘ Max King, wearing gold tights, carrying his newly-won ICTV belt and looking a little annoyed at coming out to music that isn’t his own, accompanied by Kelly Connelly who is in a gold-thread business suit for this evening. ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins and his tag belt, who even gets a small cheer from his hometown - until he flips the crowd off, that is - along with Jet and, bringing up the rear, the unmistakeable figure of the World Heavyweight Champion.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a 6-person Captain Fall Elimination Tag Match!” Funyon booms. “Introducing first, at a combined weight of 693lbs... SWF ICTV Champion ‘The Icon’ Max King, one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins, and the team captain; SWF WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPION... TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”
"TOXXIC SUCKS!”
“YOU SCREWED MADDIX!”
“TOXXIC SUCKS!"
“YOU SCREWED MADDIX!”
"These people need to show the champs around here more respect. It takes a lot of skill and determination to become a champion around these parts," Riley protests as the members of Revolution Zero make their way into the ring, the ropes being held open for them by Kelly as they enter. They look around for a while, and as a show of their dominance to further infuriate the crowd, all three men stand in the middle of the ring, holding their respective championship belts high above their head.
Suffice it to say, the crowd is NOT cheering at all...until the sounds of "Rush Against The Grain" start to ooze out of the speakers.
*BOOOM!!*
“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“And their opponents,” Funyon booms, having retrieved his microphone, “at a total combined weight of 610 pounds; first, the longest-reigning SWF Tag Team Champions OF ALL TIME~, Mike Van Siclen and "The Urban Legend" Todd Cortez... HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD!”
"The former SWF Tag Team Champions are looking for a chance to get revenge on Revolution Zero tonight after that criminal abuse of the rules on Lockdown," Comet begins to explain as Cortez and Siclen both make their way out to a great positive reaction. "The only thing these heroes could be upset about is that the other half of the tag team champions, Sean Davis, isn't in this match right now."
"They should be GLAD that Davis isn't in this match." Riley begins to explain. "King has nothing really to hate either member of the opposing team for, so he might just go easy on them. I KNOW that Sean Davis wouldn't be so forgiving though."
Mike and Todd make their way down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as they go but focusing almost completely on the three men awaiting them in the ring. ‘Rush Against The Grain’ fades out and there are a few moments of relative quiet... but then the distinctive, bouncy opening melody of ‘Just A Girl’ by No Doubt kicks up, and the crowd noise increases once more!
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“And their partner,” Funyon says over the cheers, “and the captain of the team; from Biloxi, Mississippi...ANDREA...MONTGOMERY!”
Upon her name being called, the girl with a World Title shot in her immediate future steps out through a shower of sparks, racing down the entrance ramp to join Hollywood Boulevard at the bottom. The trio pause to confer briefly amongst themselves before rushing the ring, all sliding in under the bottom rope and popping straight up to prevent their opponent’s from launching a surprise attack. However, Revolution Zero and Max King hold back and Senior Referee Matthew Kivell starts explaining the rules to all the contestants.
"I still don't get what THIS girl did to ever deserve getting a shot at the World Title." Riley complains. "She's nothing more than a mid-card talent who probably gave one of the members of the booking committee a night of pleasure to get the shot."
"That's a shameful accusation Robert!" Comet snaps. "Citizen Montgomery earned her shot at Genesis V, and the fans have truly taken her to their hearts! Even Toxxic has acknowledged her worthiness, as he has guaranteed her another title shot after her last one was so abruptly ended!”
Riley chuckles a bit. "And just WHO was it that caused the match to end prematurely, I ask you..."
"...well, it was one of her partners in this match, Citizen Van Siclen..."
“...and who has now jumped into the queue in front of her?” Riley asks, sensing victory.
“Citizen Van Siclen again, Robert.”
"That's RIGHT. You KNOW that's going to have to come into play at some point or another."
Andrea looks ready to take on Toxxic...however the World Champion simply steps out of the ring and onto the apron in his corner. It seems that for his team, King will start things off. After talking a bit, the other team decides to have Cortez start things off.
*DING, DING, DING!*
As soon as the bell rings, King starts to circle Cortez in ‘classic’ grappler style. Cortez starts to circle with him, not planning on letting King get the upper hand, before the two competitors lock up and struggle to get the upper hand over one another as best they can. Cortez seems like he's going to get the advantage until King flips him over with a modified version of a hip-toss. After Cortez hits the mat, King turns around to look at the crowd a bit, taunting the downed Cortez.
"I think King is posing a bit TOO early on in this match, if you ask me." Comet notes.
"Well, no one asked you, Comet. So keep your thoughts to yourself." Riley replies as King turns around in the ring to pick up a downed Cortez. Unfortunately for King, Cortez isn't down on the mat when he next turns around, and he gets blasted in the face with a jumping palm strike that connects right onto King's jaw, knocking the new ICTV Champ into the ring ropes. Cortez goes to try and whip King off of the ropes, but King uses his slight edge in body mass to hold on, and whips Cortez hard into the corner, following him in with a clothesline before hitting him with a knife edge chop against the chest that sends a sickening smacking sound through the arena.
“WHOO!”
King smiles a bit at the sound and the reaction that he got from the crowd, and goes to swing again with the chop. However, this time Cortez is ready for it, ducking down and sliding out of the way of the arm as it swings, then grabbing King's arm from behind and flinging him over with a modified hip-toss of his own. King skids across the ring but Cortez follows him and slaps on an armbar, then reaches over and tags in Van Siclen. The Spectacle kicks King right in the arm, and before the Icon can get back up to his feet Mike leaps up comes down with a splash!
ONE!
But although the impact has knocked the wind out of Max King he kicks out just after one.
"I can't believe the audacity of Van Siclen, thinking that he could take down an amazing competitor like King with something as simple as that." Riley states. "He must be on something REALLY good to think that would have worked out in his favor."
"Or, as is more likely, he was trying to catch King off guard, having things get into his team's favor by eliminating King from the match early on." Comet suggests, as Van Siclen brings King up. The Spectacle goes back to his heelish roots by raking King’s eyes before bouncing off the ropes behind the Icon and looks for a bulldog, but King manages to duck down so that Van Siclen doesn't get the grab. As soon as MVS turns around King is there waiting for him, lifting up the former Tag Team Champion and drilling him down onto the mat with a hard powerslam, and this time it is King who stays on for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
...but Van Siclen kicks out just after two, and the fans start to rally behind him.
“BOU-LE-VARD!”
“BOU-LE-VARD!”
King just shrugs his shoulders a bit, as if to say that it doesn't really matter to him, before he grabs the arm of MVS and twists it as hard as he can. Pulling the former tag champion over to his team's corner, he reaches with his free hand and tags in one of the CURRENT Tag Team Champions in Spike Jenkins, who drops an elbow into the trapped arm of Van Siclen as soon as he gets into the ring, followed by an open-handed uppercut that staggers the Spectacle back into the corner.
"Ah, it warms the heart to see the current tag team champion take out this has-been with such style and panache." Riley states. "I could watch it all day."
Spike slaps Van Siclen in the face, then as referee Kivell backs him up and admonishes him Max King takes the opportunity to wrap the tag rope around the neck of MVS and begin to choke him while Toxxic looks dispassionately on. Spike continue his argument with the official, well aware that he is providing a valuable distraction...that is until Andrea Montgomery and Todd Cortez almost trample him in their desire to help their teammate! Matthew Kivell fields them expertly, catching the lighter Drea and ordering her back to her corner before hauling Todd Cortez away and barking the same instructions at him. Meanwhile Spike picks himself up, dusts himself down, glances around to check that Kivell is still occupied and takes a run-up to-
*CHING!*
-nail the gasping Van Siclen right between the legs!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“That criminal!” Comet splutters. “That fiend! Has he got no respect for the rules, the traditions of this noble sport!?”
“No,” Riley answers as Van Siclen falls forward onto his face. “That’s part of the reason why he’s a champion.”
Spike grins around at the Staples Centre crowd as faint groans escape the lips of the Spectacle and Matthew Kivell heads over, too late as always to detect the nefarious deeds. Seeing the presence of a ‘Spike’s FanClub!” sign in the middle distance the Straight-Edge Junior flashes a cheesy grin at the two emo girls holding the piece of card aloft before taking hold of Mike’s head and raising the pained Illinois native up to a kneeling position. Van Siclen is still rather unaware of the grander scheme of things as his mind is generally concentrated in the region of his own testicles - nevertheless, he quickly wakes up to his current predicament as Spike’s boot slams into his chest once, twice... Hollywood backs away a step, flashes another grin and then whips his foot towards Van Siclen’s jaw-
-but Mike ducks, and pulls Spike over into a schoolboy pin!
ONE!
TWO!
However, the surprise quickly wears off and Spike is able to get out of the pin, then uses his speed advantage to run at Van Siclen when the Spectacle is just getting up from one knee and-
*CRACK!*
-NAIL him with a Dangerous Wizard! Mike falls facefirst again, and this time Spike rolls him over onto his back to make the cover...
ONE!
TWO!!
...but Mike kicks out and, obeying Toxxic’s shouted instructions, Spike picks the Spectacle up and hauls him to the Revolution Zero corner where he tags in Max King.
“Toxxic appears to be keeping himself out of the match at present,” Comet muses as the Icon steps through the ropes and then buries his boot in the robs of Mike Van Siclen as Spike holds him in a front facelock.
“It’s only sensible strategy,” Riley argues. “They can afford to lose Max or Spike, but the moment Toxxic’s pinned the match ends. Why risk getting worn down?”
Max King pulls Mike Van Siclen into a standing headscissors and places his hands on his hips to stare jauntily round at the crowd, which rise in unanimous derision for the cocky man from Philly. The Icon reaches down, perhaps to haul Van Siclen up for his patented jumping piledriver... but as he does so Mike powers upwards and lifts King up, grabbing his legs to hold him head-down for a moment before dropping and driving his opponent skull-first into the mat!
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Van Slaminator!” Comet cries in delight as Mike scrambles groggily back up to his feet again, looking around to orientate himself on his teammates. “Citizen Van Siclen pulls out a devastating counter, and now he can get someone else into the match!”
“Bah!” Riley snorts. “Operation ‘Pound On Mike’ was just getting good!”
Van Siclen steps over the recumbent and twitching form of Max King and heads for his corner, but Spike Jenkins steps through the ropes and is hot on his trail. However, Matt Kivell places himself in the way of the junior Straight-Edger and halts his advance, but still manages to turn his head to see Van Siclen tagging in his long-time partner, Todd Cortez!
“BOU-LE-VARD!”
“BOU-LE-VARD!”
Kivell starts to threaten Spike with disqualification if he doesn’t quit the ring, but Hollywood isn’t quite done yet and reaches down to take hold of King and drag him back towards the Revolution Zero corner to aid a tag - but he is stopped in his tracks as Todd Cortez whips his boot into Jenkins’ temple!
*CRACK!*
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Spike rolls across the canvas and out of the ring where Jet goes to check on him, but Kelly and Toxxic are more concerned with the new peril for Max King. Cortez hauls the Icon up, draws his right hand back and-
*SMACK!*
-drills it into King’s jaw with a Shotei! The impact spins the larger man around and the Urban Legend wraps his arm around Max’s neck before dropping to his knees to deliver the Cereal Killer neckbreaker, causing King to spasm across the ring. Cortez doesn’t let up and follows up by hauling the Icon to his feet again, then heading for the Boulevard corner once more. He reaches out a hand to tag in Andrea Montgomery, then quickly wraps one arm across King’s chest and drives him down to the mat with an STO before rolling away as Andrea vaults easily up to the top rope and comes off with a 630 Senton onto the prone Icon!
*WHAM!*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“What startling agility from this lovely young lady,” Comet says as Andrea pops up to her feet and salutes the crowd, “and she has even more impressive things up her sleeves! A true mistress of the air and a worthy challenger to Toxxic-”
“-just because she’s been known to use the Falling Star Bomb on occasion,” Riley mutters.
Max King is clutching his ribs, but Andrea isn’t going to give the biggest man in the match a chance to recover. Instead she grabs a wrist in each hand and tows him laboriously to the middle of the ring, then bounces off the ropes and hits an inch-perfect handspring Phoenix Splash, before hooking the leg for a cover!
ONE!
TWO!!
TH-
-but King kicks out, although without the authority that Kelly Connelly would have liked. Andrea doesn’t seem too bothered by it however, and grabs King in a side headlock...
“BORT!” the bizarre girl from Biloxi shouts
...before running full-tilt for one of the neutral corners. As she runs up the buckles and dives over the top ropes it looks for a moment like King is going to be able to resist her momentum and drop her with a back suplex instead, but gravity takes its toll on the battered Icon and Andrea guillotines him over the top rope with a bulldog hangman! King bounces off the cables and rolls back across the ring while Drea lands easily on the apron, then turns around ready to springboard back in-
*THWACK!*
-but Kelly Connelly had snuck around behind her and grabs Drea’s ankle as she goes to take off, causing the girl from Biloxi to lose her footing and smash facefirst into the apron!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The Staples Center absolutely shits on Max King’s associate as she walks unhurriedly away while Hollywood Boulevard shout abuse from their corner, but Matthew Kivell was checking on Max King following the trauma to his throat and can only look around in puzzlement to see why Andrea is now in a dazed heap on the outside. Meanwhile Spike and Toxxic are calling urgently to Max King, trying to rouse him to crawl the few yards to their corner and make the tag.
‘ONE!’ Kivell shouts, waving a finger at Andrea on the outside.
“Will someone get her away from ringside!?” Comet asks angrily as Kelly waves to the LA fans, either completely misinterpreting their jeers or simply enjoying the attention. “That shameless hussy, that so-called ‘associate’, that-”
“-Comet, you’re about to use the word ‘Jezebel’, aren’t you?” Riley says.
“...no...” Comet protests unconvincingly.
“You know what happens when you say that word,” Riley admonishes his partner, pulling a large black Stetson out from under the commentary desk. “I douse you in Barbeque sauce, and you have to wear this!”
“Just watch the match, Robert.”
‘TWO!’
Max King pushes himself up, looking around for any sign of Andrea whilst clutching at his throat. Drea’s position on the arena floor is not immediately obvious to the wary ICTV Champion but when he catches Kelly’s eye and the gold-suited manager winks at him he realises he has a few grace seconds, and starts to crawl towards his corner.
“Brilliant team communication!” Riley exults.
“Just a shame Kelly Connelly shouldn’t actually be in the match, really,” Comet responds acidly.
“KELLY SUCKS (MAX!)”
“KELLY SUCKS (MAX!)”
A minority of the Staples Centre audience puts their own addition on the classic chant of abuse, but if the smile that crosses the pained King’s face is anything to go by it’s not an inaccurate accusation... however, the Icon manages to stretch out a hand and tag in his partner - who happens to be Spike Jenkins.
‘THREE!’
“Toxxic is still staying on the apron!” Comet notes incredulously. “I don’t know what has got into the normally belligerent Straight-Edge Sensation, but he seems quite happy to let his lackeys do the dirty work for him tonight!”
Drea has got back up to her feet and climbs back up to the apron in preparation of re-entering the ring; however, Spike is already making a beeline for the Mississippi girl with bad intentions. Andrea is no fool though, and as Hollywood reaches over the top rope for her she ducks down and rams her shoulder into his midsection to double him over, then slingshots herself over his back to hook him for a sunset flip!
ONE!
TWO!!
No! Spike kicks out moments after Kivell’s hand hits the mat for the second time and the Junior Straight-Edger gets quickly back up to his feet - not quick enough to elude Drea however, as the agile girl kips up from the mat straight onto Spike’s shoulders, then hurricanranas him across the ring!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Spike clambers to his feet, mildly disorientated, and finds himself face-to-face with Hollywood Boulevard as he has skidded to a halt in his opponents’ corner! The ever-cocky man from Los Angeles starts talking trash at the former tag champions who seem more than happy to return the favour, but Spike is not as dumb as he looks and sees the glance that flashes past his shoulder in time to duck out of the way as Andrea springs on him from behind. Jenkins grins out at his hometown crowd, tapping finger to temple to indicate his smarts... but what he hadn’t anticipated was that Andrea would be able to land harmlessly on the second buckle, and was merely waiting for him to turn around to corkscrew backwards and snare him for a jumping tornado DDT!
*BANG!*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
Drea leans into the cover, hooking Spike’s leg as Kivell dives to count...
ONE!
TWO!!
TH-
-but Spike kicks out, and the Revolution Zero corner breathes again! Their relief doesn’t last for long though as Andrea pops straight back up to her feet and, before Spike has even started to peel himself off the canvas, heads for middle of the nearest ringropes and vaults casually to the top before springboarding back off with a Sky Twister Press-
*BANG!*
-that gets only knees!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Alas!” Comet cries in dismay as Andrea rolls across the ring clutching her ribs, “fair Citizen Montgomery was too eager to take the fight to the villainous Jenkins and paid for it!”
“C’mon Spike, knee the bitch in the gut again!” is Riley’s less charitable contribution.
Spike hauls himself back to his feet, rubbing his head with one hand but focusing clearly on Andrea as the former Wildcard starts to push herself up. Hollywood slaps his right bicep a couple of times, then backs into the ropes to get some momentum and launches himself across the ring towards his winded target.
Andrea sees him coming of course, but with no breath in her lungs it is beyond even her vaunted acrobatic skill to avoid the HOMETOWN-PUMPED-UP-NOW-IT’S-MY-TURN-TO-LAY-THE-SMARKDOWN LARIATOOOOOOOOO~!
*BAM!*
“Lariat!” Comet gasps. “Spike Jenkins isn’t huge, but that move packs quite a punch when delivered to fellow cruiserweights!”
Indeed it does, and Spike knows it. The force of it took him off his feet as well and it is the work of a moment to readjust his position to make the cover...
ONE!
TWO!!
...but it’s broken up by Todd Cortez with a boot to the head! Spike rolls away from Andrea, but as Matthew Kivell is occupied in herding the recalcitrant Cortez away Jenkins sees his chance and reaches down to perform a blatant choke on Montgomery!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
It only takes a second for Kivell to hear the cries and he quickly turns around to see what has got the LA fans so riled, then immediately starts counting.
‘ONE!’
‘TWO!’
‘THREE!’
‘FOUR!’
Spike doesn’t chance his luck by holding on for the final second - instead he pulls away and grins cheekily up at the SWF’s head official, who gives him a thorough but ultimately useless talking to. Jenkins at first seems quite happy to annoy the referee by grinning impertinently, but after Toxxic’s shouts reach him he opts to haul the groggy Andrea back to her feet and line her up with her back to the Rev-0 corner. Spike backs up a second, then steps forwards and makes a smart rotation as he goes before driving his right elbow into Andrea’s jaw!
*CRACK!*
“ROOAAARRRRRIIIINNNNGGGG EELLLBBOOOWWWW!” Riley shouts in joy as Andrea is knocked back down once more, “cover her Spike!”
Spike does just that - but not before he flips off the increasingly anxious Hollywood Boulevard. He drops to make the pin as Todd Cortez and Mike Van Siclen step through the ropes to the rescue of their captain...
ONE!
...but Spike abandons the pin as he is joined by Max King and Toxxic, and the three partners counter-charge the Boulevard to take them down with a triple clothesline!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“No!” Comet shouts. “He wasn’t trying to pin Andrea, they just wanted to sucker Todd and Mike in!”
“-and they did it brilliantly!” Riley laughs in delight.
Andrea Montgomery is forgotten for the moment as Spike, Toxxic and Max King take their chance to pound on her backup while Matthew Kivell tries ineffectually to remove them from the ring. Well aware that it will only be a few seconds before the referee starts disqualifying people the Revolution Zero team go to work; Toxxic starts a slugfest with Van Siclen to tie him up whilst Spike gets Cortez in a reverse headlock and hoists him up into the air. Max King takes one of the Urban Legend’s legs on each shoulder, then Spike snaps Cortez’s body with the Clean Living as King pushes his legs off his shoulders!
*WHAM!*
“Assisted Clean Living!” Comet winces as Cortez crashes into the canvas. “That move could remove Todd Cortez from the match right there!”
Seeing his longtime partner take such a devastating plunge seems to fire up Mike Van Siclen - the Spectacle blocks a Toxxic right hand and places his skull under the Straight-Edge Sensation’s jaw before sitting out, but immediately rises back to his feet and charges across the ring to floor Max King with a spinning heelkick!
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
Spike squares up to the Spectacle but simply eats a superkick to the jaw instead! Mike bends down to pick him up for more punishment but Matthew Kivell informs him in no uncertain terms that it is him who is now at risk of disqualification, and Van Siclen unwillingly retreats to his own corner and the cold comfort of the tag rope. Meanwhile Kivell briefly checks on the condition of Todd Cortez (who has rolled to the outside) and orders the recovered Toxxic and Max King from the ring and, leaving Andrea Montgomery free to stand up somewhat shakily. The girl from Biloxi has taken several nasty shots to the head but she still knows where she is and what she needs to do, and she sets off unsteadily towards the beckoning hand of Mike Van Siclen. However, she is halted by the clutching hands of Spike Jenkins when he grabs her legs as she walks past and staggers up to his feet, still holding her left leg. Drea measures her grinning opponent for a second then leaps up off her right foot to drive that knee into Spike’s gut, before grabbing his head as the winded straight-edger releases her leg and doubles over, then spins Hollywood to the mat with a snap neckbreaker!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
Andrea sets off again, this time on her hands-and-knees. Meanwhile Spike tries to ignore the pain in his neck and starts to crawl back towards his corner where Max King and Toxxic are reaching out their hands to him. Meanwhile, Matthew Kivell starts his double count-out as neither competitor seems able to get to their feet...
‘ONE!’
‘TWO!’
Spike wavers for a moment, trying to decide which one of his partners to tag in.
‘THREE!’
Andrea reaches up, stretching towards Mike Van Siclen with everything she has...
*smak!*
Van Siclen is in.
*smak!*
And so is Toxxic.
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
The Spectacle charges across the ring, not bothering with anything fancy. The onrushing Toxxic is expecting something suitably sneaky from Van Siclen, so-
*WHAM!*
-a simple clothesline comes as something of a shock to him. As the crowd starts to roar its support of him Van Siclen continues his charge into the Rev-0 corner where he jumps and spins, delivering the forearm smash of The Answer to a Max King who wished he’d never asked the question and knocking the Icon to the outside!
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
Van Siclen turns around to find Toxxic back on his feet, but simply boots the Straight-Edge Sensation in the gut and grabs him in a front facelock. Even in full flow Mike has time to milk the crowd for a moment, waving at the LA crowd for half a second before bringing his right arm around to drive Toxxic’s face into the mat with the Code Red!
*BAM!*
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
Van Siclen laughs as he hears the Staples Centre roaring their support for him, and the man from Illinois hauls the World Champion back to his feet before Irish whipping him into the corner...
...but Toxxic has his own ideas about this, and vaults to the top before diving back at Van Siclen with the flying clothesline known as the Role Reversal!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
For a moment the two men lie on their backs next to each other - then Toxxic coils his legs up under his chin and kips up explosively!
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“Yes!” Riley shouts exultantly (presumably not in response to the crowd’s shouts), “the Straight-Edge Sensation is in the ring and ready for action!”
The World Champion takes a second to look over at the Boulevard corner and sees Todd Cortez only just starting to haul his way up onto the apron after the Clean Living he took earlier, while Andrea Montgomery is standing clutching the tag rope looking weary but determined. Confident that Mike Van Siclen doesn’t have all that much in the way of energetic rescuers - but well aware that Spike and Max King aren’t in the best shape themselves - Toxxic decides to try and swing the odds in his team’s favour quickly. He hauls MVS to his feet and hooks him in a reverse headlock, then drops to one knee and drives the other up into the back of Mike’s neck before popping back up and then dropping straight down with an inverted DDT to complete the Detoxx.
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
The straight-edger steps out to the apron and measures the distance between himself and the fallen Spectacle. Satisfied that it is reachable the rookie holds three fingers over his head for a moment, then vaults to the top rope...
...to the top buckle...
...and corkscrews back with the Hangover...
*BAM!*
...but it misses as Mike rolls aside, and Toxxic lands hard on his hip!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
“LET’S GO MI-IKE!”
Seeing a chance to end this right now, Van Siclen scrambles on top of the Straight-Edge Sensation and hooks the leg...
ONE!
TWO!!
...but Toxxic kicks out, much to the disappointment of everyone in the Staples Center! Mike drags Toxxic up to his feet and lines up a forearm shot, but Toxxic hasn’t taken that much of a battering yet and ducks it, then quickly adjusts his feet and as Van Siclen turns around-
*SMACK!*
-he lands a superkick right on the Spectacle’s jaw! Van Siclen falls backwards, and seeking a moment to get his head together Toxxic takes the three steps to his corner and tags in Spike Jenkins. The man from Hollywood steps through the ropes and pats his right bicep again, lining up on Van Siclen as Mike starts to stand back up, then charges across the ring to deliver a HA-HA-HA-WHO’S-TAG-CHAMPIONS-NOW-YOU-BITCH LARIATOOOOOOO...
...but Mike ducks, and as Spike tries to kill his momentum and turns in search of his opponent Van Siclen boots him in the gut then quickly hoists him up from a vertical headscissors, steps over each of Spike’s arms and drops...
*CRUNCH!*
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“RIOT ACT!” Comet bellows as Spike’s head is unceremoniously introduced to the canvas. The whole duck-and-reversal sequence happened so fast that neither Toxxic nor Max King seemed to have any concept of stopping what was going on; that all changes as Matthew Kivell drops to make the count on Spike...
ONE!
Max and Toxxic step through the ropes, ready to come to Spike’s rescue...
TWO!!
...but this time, it is Andrea and Todd who come counter-charging across, and Mike keeps the pin applied.
THHHRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
*DING-DING-DING!*
“Ladies and gentlemen, Spike Jenkins has been ELIMINATED~!” Funyon booms as Andrea takes Toxxic down with a leg lariat while Todd Cortez nails a regular lariat on Max King.
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“First blood to the forces of JUSTICE~!” Comet proclaims grandly as Mike Van Siclen kicks Spike out under the bottom rope to the floor, “and now it’s three-on-two against the World and ICTV Champions!”
Matthew Kivell is trying to determine which one out of Toxxic and Max King is ready to be the next legal competitor, but the answer seems to be ‘neither’ as Hollywood Boulevard and Drea start to get some revenge for their earlier beating. However, Andrea and Mike launch Toxxic out of the ring so Kivell decides that for simplicity’s sake it will be the Icon, and sets about removing Montgomery and Cortez from the ring. Unfortunately for the fan favourites this gives Max King the chance to do what he does best; fall to his knees and-
*CHING!*
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Van Siclen drops to his own knees as the impact of his second ballshot of the match zigzags through his body. Triumphant, Max King climbs back to a vertical base and grabs Van Siclen’s hair - but Mike isn’t above a few ball sports himself.
*CHING!*
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“The double standards of the spectators in this sport sicken me...” Riley mutters with his head in his hands as Max King falls backwards clutching his groin, while Kelly Connelly looks on white-faced from ringside. Matthew Kivell has now finished herding Cortez and Drea from the ring and turns around to find both competitors in some severe pain; however, Mike struggles up to a semi-vertical base and wobbles over to his corner, where he tags in Todd Cortez. The Urban Legend steps through the ropes, ready to give Max King a lesson in why not to cross the Boulevard, but Kivell holds him off for a second to check on King’s condition. Cortez is in no mood to be baulked however, and the former tag champ grabs the Icon roughly by the head and lifts him off the canvas. He goes to whip King into the cables but Max manages to stop his own momentum and reverses the move to send Todd in instead, then clutches at Kivell for support on his wobbly legs... however, his unsteadiness might not be entirely genuine as-
*WHAM!*
-Kelly Connelly nails Cortez in the back with the ICTV Title as he bounces off the ropes while the referee is entangled with King!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!”
Kelly looks genuinely hurt at the abuse raining down from the Staples Center crowd, but Max King isn’t interested in defending his manager’s honour at the moment - instead he twists Cortez sharply around and hooks him in a reverse DDT position before hooking the Urban Legend’s leg and dropping to one knee, driving the other into Cortez’ back and locking in the Compressor! Mike Van Siclen and Andrea look on aghast from the apron, unsure what to do, but before they can decide on a course of action Todd Cortez taps desperately on the canvas!
*DING-DING-DING!*
“Ladies and gentlemen, Todd Cortez has been ELIMINATED~!” Funyon bellows while the atmosphere in the Staples Center grows considerably more hostile.
“That’s outrageous!” Comet yells. “Of course he’s going to tap to a back-based submission if he’s been hit with a large metal belt there moments previously!”
“I know,” Riley says smugly. “Genius, isn’t it?”
King releases his hold on the pained Cortez and straightens up, ready (or at least, pretending to be ready) to take on whichever one of Van Siclen or Andrea steps through the ropes next. However, before a decision is made Toxxic hurtles across the ring past the Icon and launches himself over the ropes, taking Van Siclen off the apron and to the ring floor! With no other options immediately presenting themselves Andrea steps through and squares up to the ICTV Champion.
“What on earth is Toxxic doing?” Comet asks incredulously as the cameras cut briefly to where the Straight-Edge Sensation and Mike Van Siclen crashed out to the floor. Neither man is moving much, but Toxxic seems to have landed on top and be in slightly better condition.
“Making sure,” Riley says. “He guaranteed Andrea Montgomery had to step into the ring, and now the opposing team’s captain can be pinned to end the match, while he is still safe!”
King steps in, wary of the speed of the former Wildcard but determined to end this match as soon as possible. However, despite the beating she took earlier Andrea slips away from his clumsy attempt to grab her and as he turns smashes a forearm into his jaw, then another, then a right hand, then a left hand, then springs up and nails the Icon with a beautiful Dropsault!
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
Andrea scrambles forwards to cover Max King and Kivell drops to make the count...
ONE!
TWO!!
THHHRR-
-but King kicks out, and dismay crosses Drea’s face for a second. Nevertheless, the icon is now in a good position for her to try and finish him off and she steps out to the apron, then seizes the top rope in preparation to spring up and hit her Springboard 450 Splash...
...but yet again a hand grabs her ankle, and she looks down to see Toxxic staring up at her through dark-lined eyes. Andrea lashes out with her other foot and catches the Straight-Edge Sensation in the jaw, then turns back to the ring - but now King is up and he smashes her in the face with a forearm, then climbs to the second rope in front of her and grabs a front facelock!
“What on earth is Citizen King doing here?” Comet asks incredulously.
“Improvising, like a true champion,” Riley answers.
Andrea Montgomery is a light girl, and although he has to strain for it Max King is able to lift her up off the apron even from the second rope, then fall back into the ring and land on top of her with a modified Superbplex!
ONE!
TWO!!
THRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...
...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
“DRE-A!” *clap-clap-clap*
Max King rolls off Andrea, almost totally exhausted. Instinctively he turns for his corner... and there, reaching out one black-nailed hand and clutching his jaw with the other, is Toxxic. The World Champion made it back to pick up the tag, and now all Max King has to do is get there. He spent most of his remaining energy on that Superbplex, and he has to crawl now. Meanwhile Drea tries to catch her breath and make for her own corner, whether or not Mike Van Siclen is there to greet her.
‘ONE!’
‘TWO!’
‘THREE!’
Max King reaches up, almost able to touch his captain’s hand.
‘FOUR!’
Andrea turns around and reaches out... and there is no Mike Van Siclen. The Spectacle is stirring, but still down on the outside.
*smak!*
And now, Toxxic is in the ring.
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
The Straight-Edge Sensation is easily the freshest competitor left, largely due to his initial reluctance to enter the contest. Drea hauls herself up and readies for Toxxic’s charge, knowing that everything might count on this. She waits for the right moment, then as Toxxic closes she suddenly leaps into the air, bunches her legs and grabs Toxxic’s shoulders before flipping backwards and taking the World Champion over with a monkey flip...
*whump*
...but Toxxic is agile enough in his own right, and the Brit flips straight through the move and lands on his feet! Andrea pops back up to her feet and turns to face him, but-
*WHAM!*
-is only greeted by a European uppercut! She staggers back and Toxxic whips her into the ropes, and it is there that Max King plants a knee into her back and causes her to stagger forwards.
“It’s a mugging!” Comet yells.
“It’s a thing of beauty!” Riley protests.
Off-balance, Andrea can do nothing to evade the soccer tackle that slices into her shins and takes her off her feet. She does her best to fight against Toxxic’s grip as the straight-edger hoists her up to a vertical base once more, but close-in Toxxic’s strength advantage tells and she hasn’t got the energy left to squirm away. She is forced down into a standing headscissors... then Toxxic hooks first one arm, then the other up behind her back.
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
Toxxic braces himself, then brings the girl from Biloxi UP...
...AROUND...
...AND...
...DOWN.
*WHAM!*
“TOXXIC SHOCK SYNDROME!” Riley bawls as Toxxic rolls Drea over and hooks the leg. “Say goodnight, Los Angeles!”
ONE!
Mike Van Siclen hears the impact, and struggles up to his feet to see what is going on.
TWO!!
His view is abruptly blotted out by a pair of boots as Max King baseball slides through the ropes and boots Van Siclen in the head.
THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
*DING-DING-DING!*
“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners,” Funyon announces as the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ fills the Staples Center, “the team of ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins, ‘The Icon’ Max King and TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIC!!”
“An absolute travesty!” Comet yells in anger. “Cheating, low-blows and beltshots do not a victory make!”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Riley laughs, “and I can’t wait to see Mike Van Siclen’s career come to an end on Storm! Comet, the Revolution is just beginning!”
Toxxic, Jet, Kelly and Max have started to make their way up the ramp to where Spike awaits them in the back. However, the Straight-Edge Sensation can’t help but look back at the ring. Mike Van Siclen stands there... and his gaze burns right into the man from Nottingham.
A Storm is brewing.
FADE OUT
Copyright SWF 2004
‘Making the Panda happy since 2000’
-
The crowd, quite large. Noise, a lot. The place, Los Angeles as a bevy of SWF fans make their voices heard as we come back from commercial. Along with the crowd is the dynamic duo at ringside,
“Welcome back to SMARKDOWN! It is I, Cyclone Comet back here for the last two matches of this big time card, along with as always, the Bucky to my Captain America…Bobby Riley!”
“Bucky? Bucky? Why’d you have to pick the dead one Comet?” asks Riley as the crowd continues to make noise as Funyon gets in the ring.
“Would you rather be my ward?” Comet replies sarcastically.
“See, that’s just wrong. I will be nobodies sidekick!”
“Except for Citizen Flesher. Anyway, it is time for a semi main event, let’s go to Funyon in the ring.”
Funyon begins with his trademark voice, “The following match is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit. The referee is Anthony Michael Hall -”
Traditional booing for the ref.
“ - and the match is for the USJL CHAAAAAAMPIONSHIP!”
Title match cheer from the assembled crowd.
“Introducing first, the challenger…”
Suddenly, the speakers of the Staples Center squeal, and “Tearing Everybody Down” by Anti-Flag kicks up. The crowd begins to boo as bursts of red pyro flares from the sides of the entranceway, and a torrential downpour of the red pyro cascades down from the SmarkTron and blankets the front entrance ramp while the crowd continues to boo.
“…from Newark, New Jersey, standing at a weight of 275 pounds….DANNY DAAAAAGDA!”
Dagda comes out from the entrance curtain with a swagger, flipping off the crowd as they boo him before heading to the ring, yelling various insults as the crowd as he makes his way to the ring. Finally, he slides in, does a little crotch chop as the SWF lawyers leave a message on Dagda’s cell phone and the crowd continues not to like Dagda at all….
“Citizen Dagda not endearing himself to the SWF crowd at all, especially after what happened previously on Lockdown between him and his opponent,” says Comet as Dagda continues to taunt the crowd.
“Danny doesn’t need the fans, he has his talent, and soon the USJL title,” replies Riley.
“His opponent…”
Lights go black. Crowd rises and a few lighters are seen as the creepy beginning to ‘Back on Earth’ starts up while a series of highlights from The Fallen Angel’s short career in the SWF start up. A spotlight shines on the entranceway as Ozzy’s voice kicks in and out walks Cross, title belt on his shoulder as the crowd roars it approval while the white pyro goes off.
“…at a weight of 277 pounds, from Oil City, Pennsylvania, the reigning and Two-Time USJL Champion…”THE FAAAALLEN ANGEL” DAAAAVID CROSS!”
Cross walks to the ring with a purpose, ignoring the cheering crowd and the outstretched hands as he makes his way to the ring. Dagda of course shouts a few choice comments as Cross looks toward him with his usual stone-like expression.
“Citizen Cross of course, was beaten by Danny Dagda in the three-way last blood match thanks to what some would say was a lucky shot,” says Comet as Cross gets in the ring.
“Lucky shot or no, Dagda beat Cross and he’s earned this shot -”
“- and the wrath of one Fallen Angel.”
“Bah, I’ve seen no wrath from this punk since he’s been here.”
“Do the words, “Top Rope German Suplex” mean anything to you, Bobb-o?”
“OK, you have a point there,” replies Riley. “Doesn’t mean Cross will win though.”
Cross slips off his jacket and kisses his cross before taking it off. As Cross hands those two defining things of The Fallen Angel to the ring attendant, Danny takes the moment to Pearl Harbor Cross! As the crowd boos the cocky youngster, he pounds Cross from behind with forearms and kicks to knock the champion down!
DING! DING! DING!
“Simply disgusting,” Comet says as Dagda simply flips off Hall as he delivers a few more kicks to David’s sternum. “There was no good reason for Citizen Dagda to attack the champion before the bell rang.”
“Of course there was,” replies Riley. “To get an advantage, you costumed freak.”
“I said good reason, Robert.”
“Winning isn’t a good reason?”
“Not when it takes treachery and evil!”
“You say evil, I say good job.”
Dagda pulls Cross up via his cranium and delivers a quick kick to the gut. The big challenger then hiptosses Cross back to the ground, before following things up with a quick knee drop again to the breadbasket of the Fallen Angel. Dagda rises and does a little strut, before pulling Cross up to his feet again and locking on a headlock. After a moment of locking the hold on, Dagda runs into the center of the mat, jumps and plants Cross with a…
“…bulldog by Citizen Dagda!” yells Comet as the crowd continues to boo Danny. “Danny has truly taken advantage of his nefarious attack earlier in the match.”
“By any means possible,” replies Riley. “After all, Dagda doesn’t want to dole out justice or whatever triple Cross spews. He just wants to win.”
“I’d take the so-called tripe Citizen Cross spews over the trash spoken by a large portion of the men you back, Riley.”
“Again, you say trash. I say oratorical masterpieces.”
Dagda waits for Cross to get up as he yells at the crowd, waiting for the Fallen Angel to return to his feet. As he does, Dagda strikes with a super kick from the corner, stunning David as he stumbles back. The challenger then follows that up by backing up and charging, sending Cross down to the mat with a big spear! Dagda still has the cocky smirk on his face as he grabs a far leg and goes for the cover…
…ONE…
…TW - KICKOUT!
“Citizen Cross just showed he has not yet begun to fight,” says Comet with delight as the crowd cheers while Dagda shares a few words with the referee. “I think Citizen Dagda may be underestimating the USJL champion. Just as he did last week.”
“Cross may have gotten some shots in last week,” replies Riley. “But Dagda still beat him and that is all that matters.”
“Of course, you don’t note that Christian Fury then defeated Dagda.”
“Lucky break for an old-timer.”
Cross again rises to his feet, only to get drilled by a big kick in the stomach, and taken to the mat again with a nasty DDT! Dagda then continues the onslaught by driving a knee into The Fallen Angel’s neck as the crowd continues to boo the New Jersey native. Dagda has some choice words for the LA crowd, something to the effect of you’re all whores, then walks over to Cross again as he attempts to get up and nails him with a simple boot to the head. Cross falls to the mat again, and Dagda has a few more words for the crowd.
“Cross seems to be having a bit of a problem getting up,” says a bemused Riley as Dagda does a quick lap around the ring doing crotch chops. “It’s just so wonderful.”
“Citizen Cross may seem down and out, but I do think he has much fight left in him.”
“He’s been active too many shows in a row. He’s broken down a bit.
“He’s had to be active because he is a fighting champion, vanquishing evil!”
“Thankfully for him, Dagda will so happily relieve him of that title he has had to bear.”
“I doubt Cross will simply let that happen.”
As our dynamic duo continues to bicker, Dagda again walks over to Cross and pulls him up, before nailing him with a quick right hand to earn him more boos and a look from Hall. With a shrug as he moves to the corner Cross has fallen back into and…
*SLAP* “WHOO!”
*SLAP* “WHOO!”
*SLAP* “WHOO!”
*SLAP* “WHOO!”
…Dagda fires a series of chops right into the champions chest as the fans continue to boo Dagda’s dominance and the strut he begins before going back to Cross and pulling Cross out, locking David’s arm in position, and picking him back before sending The Fallen Angel back to the mat with a big…
“…HEAD AND ARM SUPLEX BY DAGDA!” screams Comet as Dagda non chalantly goes for the cover while Hall drops down to count…
…ONE…
…TWO…
…KICKOUT!
“Citizen Cross still strong despite taking a heavy beating early in the contest,” says Comet as again, Dagda has unkind words for Hall. “However, the champion of justice has continued to struggle on despite being blindsided by Citizen Dagda.”
“Jeez, you make Hannity look non-partisan,” cracks Riley. “Also Comet, it’s Cross has taken a heavy beaten for the whole contest! Has the big goof even gotten a single move in yet this match?”
“Not yet, but there is much battle yet to be had, Robert.”
“Probably not, if Cross keeps on getting slapped around like he’s Tina Turner.”
“ROBERT!”
As Comet expresses his horror, Dagda pulls up Cross and sends him into the corner…hard! The fans boo, a little quieter now as their hero has been dominated thoroughly early in this match. Dagda stalks to the corner again, drilling Cross again with a big forearm and a comment to go with it that the camera picks up.
“You’re worthless!”
Dagda rears back and nails Cross with another move, this time a big left hand and yes, another comment.
“I’ve beaten punching bags that gave more of a fight!”
The challenger delivers a quick kick to the gut, then an elbow to the forehead before adding in his subtle wit again as Cross slumps down to the mat!
“See that you idiots, your hero is on his knees, like your girlfriends are with me!”
More boos as Dagda picks up Cross, steadies him on his feet, then rears back and…BITCHSMACK as he gets in his final dig.
“After this Davey, I might find your mama’s grave and skullfuck her like I am you!”
While the crowd boos, Dagda does a little strut and dance as the boos suddenly turn to cheers. Dagda turns around and does a McMahon-like gulp as he sees Cross standing again, seemingly back at one hundred percent as The Fallen Angel charges him!
“Comet,” begins Riley. “Can you make a small mental note for me.”
“What?”
“Never insult the big goof’s mama. It really pisses him off.”
“Taken and in the database, right next to the ‘no Chip ‘n’ Dale’ references by Janus.”
Dagda shocked, tries to fire a right hand, but it’s quickly blocked and Dagda is nailed by a huge forearm from the Fallen Angel! Dagda tries to fire back, only to get nailed by another huge forearm which sends him backpedaling, trying to escape. Cross delivers another huge forearm, then finishes things off by a huge boot into Dagda’s face, sending him through the ropes as the crowd comes alive for The Fallen Angel!
“What were you saying about Citizen Cross being finished?” says Comet as Dagda holds his torso in pain as he is laid out on the floor. “Something about complete and utter domination.”
“Well, the kid is a rookie,” replies Riley. “So, he makes rookie mistakes. Like making fun of David’s family. Not the best idea, but he can easily recover and win the match. The goof’s little adrenaline rush will end soon and Danny can take back over.”
“You seem so confident,” notes Comet.
“Comet, remember how many guys I pissed off when I wrestled?”
“Hmm…you have a point,” replies Comet. “You do have a way with escaping with your life after insulting large, scary men.”
Cross rolls out of the ring as the crowd continues to cheer like mad as Dagda tries to get up. The Fallen Angel helps Danny, by pulling him to his feet then drilling him with a huge kick to the solar plexus! Dagda keels over, and The Fallen Angel continues by sending his right knee directly into Dagda’s skull, causing his head to snap back upwards. Cross finishes off the combo by twisting his left leg around with a CRESCENT KICK right into the challengers temple, sending him crashing to the floor with a thud! As the crowd cheers loudly, The Fallen Angel simply stares down with that same stone-like expression as he raises his fist to the capacity crowd at the Stapes Center.
“Again, why does Cross continue to act like this is PRIDE,” says Riley. “This is wrestling, dammit!”
“So, Citizen Dagda wants to slap Cross around, attack him from behind, and generally be slimy, but Cross executes actual moves and you want him drawn and quartered?” asks Comet. “Is that correct?”
“You say it like that and you try to act like it’s wrong or something, Comet.”
“Perhaps, because it is?”
“Nonsense.”
Cross then picks up Dagda by his stringy black hair and flings him into the guardrail with a rattle to the cheers as David then follows that up with a huge boot to the face of Dagda who falls to the floor again, beaten and bruised. The champion picks up Dagda again and drills him with a big forearm before setting him up and whipping him straight into the ring post to the roar of the crowd! Dagda is again on the unforgiving concrete floor, looking up at the lights as the crowd cheers for The Fallen Angel.
“Citizen Cross has really turned it on outside of the ring and has beaten Dagda from pillar to post…literally,” says Comet as Cross rolls his opponent back in the ring.
“Dagda can come back easily,” replies Riley. “Cross is hurting, he just isn’t showing that as of yet.”
“I think Citizen Cross is not one to show pain or fear,” says Comet. “He is a true warrior for justice.”
“Well, that warrior is going to lose pretty damn soon,” replies Riley. “Cross can’t keep the adrenaline flowing for the whole match, he’ll eventually run out and the long beat down earlier will catch up with him.”
“We shall see, Robert. We shall see.”
Cross gets in the ring himself and picks up Dagda again. After peppering the challenger with a few quick forearms, the champion kicks Dagda in the gut and locks him in a front chancery. Cross then pulls up Dagda into vertical suplex position and then after a moment to let the blood to rush to the head, Cross dropped sending Dagda's head and neck crashing into the mat with a…
“BRAINBUSTER BY CITIZEN CROSS!” screams Comet as The Fallen Angel hooks a leg and Hall goes down to count…
…ONE…
…TWO…
…THR - SHOULDER UP!
“Citizen Dagda still fighting off this onslaught by the reigning USJL champion,” Comet says as the crowd cheers Cross on. “How many moves like that brain buster can he take though?”
“More than Cross can,” replies Riley. “The big goof may have the advantage now, but it won’t be long until Dagda hits one big move and boom ,we have a new champion.”
“I think Citizen Cross has more than that in his reserve,” notes Comet. “After all, he did defeat Citizen Lezaire in the Canadian Death Match at Genesis V.”
“Luck. Simple, dumb luck.”
Cross gets back to his feet as Dagda struggle to get up. The champion pulls the New Jersey native up, then nails Dagda with a simple knee to the gut, then puts him in position, as Cross puts one hand under the keeled over Danny, then pulls him up and over before sending him back to the mat with a huge gutwrench suplex! The crowd really comes alive as Cross doesn’t wait a moment, merely picking up Dagda before he can even start to recover and puts on a waistlock as the crowd buzzes. The crowd roars as Cross picks up Dagda and sends him backward, crushing his neck into the mat with a vicious…
“…GERMAN SUPLEX BY THE CHAMPION!” yells Comet as Cross lets go letting the crowd roar as the USJL champ does the throat-slitting motion.
“Dagda, wake up!” yells Riley as well as Cross stalks over to his opponent.
As the crowd continues to cheer, Cross puts Dagda in the standing head scissors position as the crowd goes mad. The Fallen Angel then pulls up Dagda all the way up, only at the apex…
“He lost his grip,” exclaims Comet as Cross drops Dagda to the mat and holds his back.
“I told you so,” says a smug Riley as Dagda gets back to his feet, a bit unaware of his current situation.
“Cross tried to do too much, and the beating he took earlier is catching back up with him!”
“You make that sound like such a glorious thing,” replies Comet. “Citizen Cross has fought valiantly today.”
“Well, now he’s going to valiantly see the lights as the referee counts to three.”
Dagda sees Cross and with a glint in his eye, nails Cross with a quick kick to the gut and then takes him down to the mat with a SINGLE ARM DDT as the crowd lustily boos the challenger! Dagda gets back up to his feet, using the ropes to help and with a small smirk on his face, delivers a number of stomps right into The Fallen Angel’s sternum and torso before Hall finally pushes him away. To celebrate, Dagda flips off the crowd who of course return the gesture in kind.
“I think Citizen Dagda believes he is about to become a champion here in the SWF,” says Comet.
“Well, Cross is down and out and he’s standing,” replies Riley. “Not exactly a huge stretch of the imagination.”
“Still, I think Citizen Cross has not yet stopped his fight,” says Comet. “He never gives up.”
“That’s a nice fairy tale, but Cross is no Superman,” Riley says. “He’ll fall just like everyone else.”
“But he hasn’t fallen yet tonight,” says Comet. “This warrior of justice still has a lot of fight left in him.”
Dagda pulls up Cross, before kicking him in the gut and as the crowd boos him, the challenger picks up Cross and with a mighty flourish sends Cross up and over his shoulder and he falls back with a FALLAWAY SLAM! The crowd voices it disapproval as Dagda gets up and does a mock bow, before advancing on Cross again who is using the ropes to get back to his feet. As Danny advances, Cross attempts to throw a quick forearm, but Dagda blocks it, then drills Cross with a knee to the midsection! The challenger then grabs the challenger’s far arm, and gets in position, before throwing Cross backwards again into the mat with a nasty HEAD AND ARM SUPLEX!
“That could not have felt good,” muses Riley as Cross is laid out and Dagda does a little pose. “No matter, it’s not like the goof has much in his head anyway.”
“Citizen Cross may not look it, but he’s an intelligent man Riley,” replies Comet. “Also, I think the challenger tonight is getting a bit too cocky for his own good.”
“For his own good?”
“Yes, I just said that, Robert.”
“He just threw Cross around like he was a cruiserweight for Christ sakes,” replies Riley. “He has a right to be a bit on the cocky side at this exact moment.”
“True, but even on his knees, Citizen Cross is still a dangerous competitior.”
“Dagda standing is more dangerous than Cross laid out though.”
Dagda delivers a few kicks to the neck and shoulder of Cross as he is face-first on the mat, before doing another little strut and pose to the boos of the LA crowd. Dagda again flips them off before throwing a quick kick to the gut as Cross attempt to stand! Danny then pulls Cross up and extends his far arm, nailing Cross with a big lariat knocking the champion back to the mat!
“See what I told you about being more dangerous,” asks Riley as Dagda pulls Cross up again.
“Cross is a tough, tough man,” replies Comet.
“Even tough men eventually fall Cyclone.”
Dagda picks up Cross again this time locking on a full nelson as the crowd continues to boo him lustily. With a smirk, the challenger locks in the hold on the big man from Oil City before again picking him off the crowd and sending him toward that mat with a crash, compacting The Fallen Angel’s neck even more as Dagda delivers the…
“…FULL NELSON FETISH BY DAGDA!” screams Cyclone as Dagda raises his arms to the hostile crowd.
“I told you, Comet.” notes Riley. “The goof is finished.”
“Heroes never give up,” replies Comet. “The Fallen Angel is a true hero and defender of justice.”
“He’s also a soon to be ex-champion.”
Dagda does a little shimmy, as he drags Cross more towards the middle of the ring, then heads toward the corner. As the crowd buzzes and boos, Dagda climbs the turnbuckle yelling, “It’s over, bitches” as he climbs the ropes. At the top, Dagda waits a moment, before jumping off the top, jackknifing himself with a huge FROG SPLASH only…
“…CROSS GOT HIS KNEES UP!” screams an exuberant Comet as the crowd roars and both men are down on the mat, Cross grabbing for the ropes and Dagda grabbing his ribs.
“Come on,” replies Riley. “That wasn’t fair!”
“How was that not fair?”
“Cross moved,” notes Riley.
“Of course he did, that’s how he didn’t get flattened by that frog splash. He got his knees up and blocked the move.”
“Exactly. Not fair. He should’ve taken his lickings and lost, like a good goofball.”
“You’re impossible, Robert.”
“I would hope so.”
As the crowd comes alive again, Cross gets to his feet and grabs Dagda by his neck. He picks up the New Jersey native and delivers a sharp kick to the gut, then grabs Dagda with a headlock, takes a few steps and sends Danny to the mat with a JUMPING BULLDOG! Only taking a moment to rest, Cross gets right back up and pulls up his challenger, putting him in a front chancery, then pulling him up and over with a huge, vicious EXPLODER SUPLEX to the roars of the Los Angeles crowd!
“Citizen Cross just delivered a huge amount of justice to his challenger,” says Comet as Cross gets back up.
“Just a momentary lapse,” replies Riley. “Dagda will have control back in his hands in no time.”
“Citizen Dagda should perhaps hurry, for his own sake. Before Citizen Cross further beats him down.”
“Oh, and I’m the biased one.”
“I tell the truth, Robert. You just say deceptions, lies, and vaguely stalker-ish things, at least when Flesher is around.”
“HEY!”
As the 500,000th Flesher-Riley joke is told, Cross pulls up Dagda and grabs his waist from the front and holds Dagda for a minute, before picking the nearly three hundred pound hoss and sending him into the mat with a crash thanks to a big Belly to Belly Suplex! As the crowd makes sound of approval and cheering, Cross picks up Dagda and grabs the challengers throat while the crowd buzzes. Cross goes to pick up Dagda and begin to finish him off, but desperately Dagda nails Cross with a…
“…LOW BLOW!” screams Comet as Cross lets go of Dagda thanks to the pain.
“The Tear Down, fool!” says Riley. “See, I told you.”
“So again, you back treachery instead of skill.”
“Are you surprised for some off reason, Comet?”
“Unfortunately, not.”
As the crowd boos Dagda like mad, he delivers a quick kick to the gut then takes Cross down with a DOUBLE ARM DDT! To finish things off, he then picks Cross up, grabs him by the throat, and with a smirk, picks him up and sends him back down to the mat with a sloppy, but effective CHOKE SLAM!
“It may not have been pretty,” begins Riley as the crowd boos Dagda as the challenger does a little strut and pose. “But Dagda just took over the match right there.”
“Do not doubt the will of this champion, Robert.”
“I think I might. Just a little.”
“Ask Ace Lezaire about The Fallen Angel, Riley. See what he tells you.”
“I would but he punked out of here like a bitch. It’s time for the new school, like Dagda to dominate. Time to throw Cross out with the trash1”
“You’re disgusting, Robert.”
“Thank you.”
While the crowd boos, Dagda picks Cross up into a torture rack position, but Cross slides out of the hold as the crowd cheers, and Dagda turns around, only to get nailed by a Cross forearm from the standing champion! Cross delivers one forearm, then another as Dagda stumbles back. Danny throws a wild right hand, but Cross ducks, spins the challenger around, then picks him up by the legs before sending him crashing to the mat with a…
“…SPINEBUSTER!” screams Comet as the crowd roars. “Citizen Cross just avoided certain defeat from Dagda’s Deflation and took the momentum of the match back!”
“Bah, just a small blip before Dagda wins the title,” replies Riley. “This is all part of a plan.”
“What, a plan to fall like the nefarious evildoer he is?”
“Comet, repeat after me. I. Am. Not. In. A. Silver. Age. Comic.”
“You’re just scared of a true defender of justice such as The Fallen Angel, Robert.”
“No, I just don’t want a big goof like Cross to hold the title.”
“As I said, scared.”
“Bah.”
Cross goes to the near corner and waits, crouched down as the crowd buzzes. Dagda gets to his knees, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs to stand, only to turn around and see Cross exploding from the corner with a…
“…YAAAAAAZUUUUUUKA~!” screams Comet as the crowd roars it approval. “Citizen Cross just nailed his challenger with that manuever.”
“Are you sure that isn’t illegal?”
“He’s done that move every match so far since he’s been in the SWF Robert,” replies Comet. “I think someone would’ve said something by now if it was.”
“Bah, can’t Suicide King rule it illegal and take his wins away retroactively or something like that?”
“I don’t think King wants a lawsuit.”
“True, but he has such great lawyers. It’s like having a military and not using them.”
“Peaceniks can contact Robert and SWF Corporate Office…”
“Hey, hey, hey, I don’t need any hippies clogging up my mail.”
“Got to keep it clear for the Flesher issue of GQ?”
“There’s going to - hey!”
Comet simply chuckles as Riley fumes a little. While the dynamic duo have continued to fight, Cross pulls an out of it Dagda up by his head and pulls him straight into a big-time SHORT ARM LARIATO~ as the crowd roars, knowing what is to come next. Cross simply raises his fist to the cheering crowd.
“This would be a good time for Citizen Dagda to make a comeback,” says Comet. “Or to make any sort of defensive manuever to avoid being beaten.”
“You think I don’t know that Comet,” replies Riley. “Come on Danny, beat the goof!”
“I don’t think he can hear you, Bobb-o.”
“Don’t worry about it, Comet. Dagda will block this, kick The Fallen Angel’s ass, and we can all go home happy.”
“I doubt Cross would leave happy if he lose to a scoundrel like Dagda.”
“Well, he doesn’t count.”
“He’d beg to differ,” replies Comet. “Also, it looks like he’s about to finish off his challenger.”
“Danny, wake up! You’re about to be destroyed by this goof!”
“Here we go again,” says Comet as the crowd cheers like mad.
Cross kicks Dagda in the gut and puts him in the standing head scissors and then pulls him up high in the air as the crowd roars…
““Danny Dagda is about to become part of a…”
…lets him stay at the apex for a moment, then Cross grabs him and sends him back to the mat with the…
“…BLACK MASS~!”
Hall drops down to the count as the crowd counts along…
…ONE…
…TWO…
…THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
“The winner of the match…” begins Funyon as the crowd cheers.
Cross rises to his feet to the cheering audience as he raises his fist while ‘Back on Earth’ begins.
“…and STILL USJL CHAMPION, “THE FAAAALLEN ANGEL” DAAAAAAVID CROSS!”
Cross is handed the title, the champion puts it over his shoulder than salutes the crowd before looking at the fallen body of Dagda. With a simple grim look, Cross turns away and heads back to the locker rooms, absent-mindedly slapping hands as he does. Back in the ring, Dagda simply shakes his head and flips off the referee.
“We’ll be right back after these messages with more SMARKDOWN~ brought to you by Frost Brand Chips and Pepsi Max!”
-
“Right. Is everyone clear what we’re doing?”
Toxxic stands in the corner of the Revolution Zero dressing room and looks around at the assembled ‘troops’. Sean Davis is away getting patched up after his Hardcore match, but Spike Jenkins is sitting watching some footage, presumably of their opponents later tonight, whilst Max King is looking slightly uncomfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings but still proudly clutching his ICTV belt. Meanwhile Kelly Connelly is standing next to him looking like a wet dream on legs, while Toxxic’s girlfriend Jet is standing next to her looking like... well, like a nutter with dreadlocks.
“We’ve got a dilemma,” Toxxic continues. “Despite the fact this is elimination, if I get pinned we’ve automatically lost. “So although I’m -arguably- the best wrestler on our team, I can’t take too many risks.” Toxxic’s face twists up at that as he looks around at the other two members of his team. “Remember - focus on Andrea, and we can get this over quickly.”
“You know, I really don’t think we need the help,” Max King says. “Well, I don’t at least...”
“Listen sunshine,” Toxxic snarls, striding across the room and staring up into the Icon’s face, “let’s get one thing straight. What you do after tonight is not my concern, but right here and now you do what I say or I swear you won’t even make it to the bloody ring.” The straight-edger cocks his head to one side, fixing the surprised ICTV Champion with a steely stare. “Understood?”
Max King stares back, but he was psychologically unprepared for such a sudden shift in temperament and doesn’t manage to do anything except make a rather frosty nod.
“Good,” Toxxic says, then taps King’s ICTV title. “One more thing. I heard that little speech you made after Smarkdown. You are not the greatest of the first-year SWF stars, because you are not World Champion. And never, ever assume that you are bigger than the title you hold.” He steps back and surveys the Icon. “I’m a two-time ICTV Champion, Max. I’ve got a lot of respect for the belt. If you want to hold onto it, you’d better learn that respect too.”
“Dude, there’s just one thing I don’t get,” Spike says from his corner. Toxxic looks over at him.
“What?” the World Champion asks.
“How the hell do you shag a chick with wings?”
There are a few moments of silence. Then:
“WHAT?”
“I mean, they’re both really angry people,” Spike continues, staring at the TV screen. “I don’t see them being platonic, y’know?”
Drawn by some horrified intrigue, the other people in the dressing room move around behind Spike so they can actually see the TV screen. What is revealed is the cartoon version of ‘Justice League’, showing Green Lantern and Hawkgirl engaging in some typically confrontational ‘interest’.
“Easy,” Jet pipes up after a second, “the girl goes on top.” She pauses to nudge and wink at Kelly. “Right, Kelly?”
The look Kelly Connelly turns on Jet is one of surprise that quickly shifts into the startled expression adopted by many straight girls when they find that the only other girl in the room is not entirely like them.
“Let’s try and focus here, shall we?” Toxxic asks, rubbing his eyes. “Spike, turn Cartoon Network off, will you...?”
-
Ryan and Sly are already in the ring, as the SWF comes back from commmercial break. The crowd mumors at the fact. They were at the very least expecting a socio-political commentary in the vein of CNN's "Crossfire" but they won't even be getting that today. Tom Flesher, Ryan Dustin is not. Maybe on another day, they'd receive a Chris Matthews-esque "Hardball" approach, but today, they get the obligitory...
BOOM!
explosion.
Everyone in the arena dies (except for Thoth, of course!)
Ryan Dustin (part of him anyway) covers the only thing remaining of his opponent. The right leg of Austin Sly!!!
One!
Two!
Three!
The bell rings and Comet just shakes his head. "Tis a sad day, Robert. A sad, sad day."
"Hey, atleast he didn't get any blood on my new suit." responds Riley, grimacing at the scene in the ring. For now though, the truly sad thing is that this is over and the SWF fades to commercial break.
====
SUDDENLY INSERTED PROMO
“Citizens, welcome back to Lockdown!” Cyclone Comet booms. We’ve just seen an... interesting... match between Austin Sly and Ryan Dustin, and coming up we have the USJL title match between Danny Dagda and-"
“-but first,” Riley eagerly interjects, “we have-”
“-what do you mean, ‘and first’?” Comet queries. “There’s nothing else scheduled between those two matches!”
Abruptly the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire crashes out across the Staples Centre and the fans rise in universal disrespect as the Smarktron first whites out, then slowly fades to black while jagged white letters flash up:
‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG...’
“Told you, didn’t I?” Riley demands. “But you wouldn’t listen!”
As the guitar riff starts the black screen shifts and becomes the top of a spiky-haired head that raises and stares out with piercing grey eyes before a lopsided grin creases the right-hand side of Toxxic's face. The bass drum starts and clips of his matches flash up - the All-Show Brawl with the Insane Luchador, the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, dropping Nathaniel Kibagami on his head with the Caffeine Bomb and the Super Intoxxication that won him the World Title - before moving onto footage of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the four blasts of red pyro that climb the entrance ramp before the final, stagewide eruption as the main riff starts-
*BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BOOOM!!*
-that signifies the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! The smoke from the pyro starts to drift slightly and Toxxic makes his way out with the World Title slung over one shoulder and a sticking plaster on his forehead from where he took the chairshot that busted him open on Smarkdown.
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The Los Angeles fans are not happy to see Toxxic here, and let him know in no uncertain manner. However, the Brit ignores them as he strides down the ramp while Funyon gathers his microphone and his wits.
“Ladies and gentlemen, making his way to the ring at this time; from Nottingham, England, the leader of Revolution Zero and the SWF WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPION... the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’... TOOOXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
The World Champion rolls into the ring and snatches the microphone from Funyon even before the first verse kicks up and pauses for a second to stare out at the crowd. The chants start to grow even louder, and Toxxic quickly moves to cut them off.
“I’ve come out here to talk about three things. Andrea Montgomery...”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“...the World Heavyweight Title...”
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
“...and Mike Van Siclen.”
“BOU-LE-VARD! BOU-LE-VARD!”
“Andrea, I hope you realise that what happened on Lockdown was none of my doing,” Toxxic says, carrying on over the crowd response. “I had no idea Mike Van Siclen was going to attack me and cause our match to end in a no-contest. Now, I may be detested throughout and beyond the English-speaking world but I like to think I’m a fair man, so even though I’m no longer quite sure who’s actually running this place now Zenon has disappeared I’m giving you my promise that you will have that title shot you earned at Genesis. After all,” the straight-edger continues, “I’ve never faced any of the SWF’s female competitors and I think it’s high time one learned what it’s like to lose to me.”
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Next, the World Heavyweight Title,” Toxxic says, ignoring the new wave of jeering that fills the Staples Centre. “That, in case you’ve forgotten, is the belt that you can see adorning my right shoulder. People in the SWF have fought for this, have sweated and bled for this. The pursuit of it has inspired careers... and ended them too. And whatever else anyone may think of me, I will not have the legacy of this belt tarnished by the actions of one blonde arsehole who thinks he has the right to nonce into the middle of my World Title match and clock me one with a chair. And that leads me to my final subject... Mike Van Siclen.”
“BOU-LE-VARD! BOU-LE-VARD!”
“Mike, I’d love to say what I want to say and get it off my chest,” Toxxic tells the crowd. “However, knowing you for the blonde-haired, white-toothed, spotlight-hogging jackmonkey that you are...” Toxxic pauses for a second, perhaps to wonder what in the hell a ‘jackmonkey’ is, “...I know that you’re going to come out here and interrupt me anyway. So why don’t you get those obliging production guys to cue up that piece of crap you call an entrance theme and walk your pseudo-Hollywood backside down to the ring where I can talk to you, up close and personal?”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Toxxic just called out Citizen Van Siclen, and the crowd definitely want to see it!” Comet says in excitement.
“Toxxic’s going to teach Mike Van Siclen a lesson, and I definitely want to see that!” Riley responds.
There is no sound in the Staples Centre for a few moments apart from the general crowd noise, with ‘Toxxic sucks!” chants mixed in with shouts for Mike and, from some quarters, Andrea Montgomery. The Straight-Edge Sensation stands in the centre of the ring with the World Title over his shoulder and a superior expression on his face, waiting for-
‘I’m head of the class...
I’m popular!’
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Gold pyro starts to fountain up at the top of the entrance ramp and out steps Mike Van Siclen, greeted by the massive cheers of the Los Angeles crowd! However, instead of smiling at the fans and doing his normal ‘everyone loves me’ schtick, the man from Illinois strides down the ramp towards the ring, directly towards the man he assaulted with a chair on Lockdown. For his part, Toxxic simply watches Mike approach with what appears to be relaxed confidence... but when the camera gives a close-up of his face, it becomes clear that Toxxic’s smirk is at least partially forced. The Straight-Edge Sensation is not used to being jumped with a chair, and he does not like it one bit.
Mike climbs quickly into the ring and walks straight up to Toxxic, who stares right back at him and raises the microphone to speak - but Van Siclen immediately snatches it away!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Toxxic, you hopped-up piece of egotrash,” Van Siclen snarls, “I'm sick of your boys, I'm sick of your babbling, I'm sick of Revolution Zero and Toxxic, I'm sick and tired of you. No, I have no regrets about what I did on Lockdown, and if I had a chair in my hand right now I'd do the exact same thing all! over! again!”
“BOU-LE-VARD! BOU-LE-VARD!”
Toxxic has by now got a mic of his own from the ringside crew, and the World Heavyweight Champion turns around to face the incandescent Van Siclen.
“So tell me, Mike... what exactly was it that made you interrupt Andrea Montgomery’s chance to win the World Title from me, this belt that I don’t deserve?” Toxxic asks the leader of the Urban Empire. “I mean, if she’d won, then I wouldn’t have it any more.” And Toxxic’s smile speaks volumes about how likely he thinks that outcome would have been.
“Because you have made the mistake of really, really pissing me off,” Mike answers, stepping up close to the straight-edger. “You smile and you smirk and occasionally, yeah, you wrestle pretty well. Honestly, Toxxic, you sound like Mike Van Sic-lite.” The crowd oohs a bit at this, and Van Siclen cracks a smile before continuing. “You make me nauseous, Toxxic, and I flat out would be thrilled if you never set foot in an SWF ring again.” Van Siclen waves one hand vaguely towards the backstage area as the crowd noise begins to rise.
“We all know what’s going on, Toxxic. Word has gotten out that ‘Revolution Zero is recruiting’. Everyone knows that you’re looking to get more people on board so you can try and monopolize this fed. I may not be perfect, Toxxic, but if you think I'm going to sit idly by and allow the blatant match thievery that has made Revolution Zero the kings of the SWF, then you've got another thing coming, because I refuse to stand by and watch the SWF fall under your control!” Mike cocks his head to one side, trying to stare into the World Champion’s thoughts. “Who’re you thinking of, Toxxic? A newcomer like Carnage? Evan Wolfe? Maybe your new partner for later this evening, Max King? There are plenty of people stupid or easily-led enough to do your bidding, but I’m not going to wait around for you to call the shots for half the roster.”
“So what do you plan to do about me?” Toxxic asks... and while the smile is still there, the Brit has an edge in his voice that was absent before.
“I plan on taking you out.”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Well, you’ll get your chance later tonight,” Toxxic tells the Spectacle. “But then again, you haven’t had much luck against Revolution Zero in tag matches lately, have you? Or 6-mans, for that matter...”
“Not the six man,” Mike answers. “The time for Revolution Zero and the Urban Empire is over, Toxxic. I want you, by yourself, in the ring, and I want it on Storm.”
“BOU-LE-VARD! BOU-LE-VARD!”
Toxxic raises one eyebrow and stares hard at Mike Van Siclen, trying to work out if the Spectacle is playing a trick. Van Siclen just stares straight back, and Toxxic slowly raises the mic to his lips.
“...I’ll think about it.”
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Think on this, Toxxic,” Mike tells him, “your pride isn't the only thing I want to strip you of on Storm. In fact, there's a belt on your shoulder that would like damn good around my waist!”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Toxxic smirks, looking Mike up and down as if trying to decide how the title belt would look on the Spectacle's waist. Trying to supress a laugh, he speaks; “I don't think it'd look too good around your waist, but to each their own, I suppose.” Toxxic pauses, then fiercely continues, “But just what in the hell makes your pretentious ass think I’m going to put that on the line?” The straight-edger flashes a grin at the Spectacle.
“Here’s what I wanted to say to you, Mike; keep messing in my business, and you’ll find out the hard way why people don’t cross me more than once.” Toxxic starts to walk past Van Siclen towards the entrance ramp. “You and Todd Cortez and the Masked Man - wherever he is - can convince yourselves that the Urban Empire matters, and maybe it does in some sense. But individually I can take any of you, and if you want to make it personal... well, you won’t be the first to make that mistake. And here’s a piece of advice,” Toxxic leans close to Van Siclen, as if imparting a secret.
“I tend to take being hit in the head with a chair... personally.”
Toxxic turns to leave, but Van Siclen isn’t finished yet. He wants to get Toxxic one-on-one in the ring, with the title on the line, and he knows one way to do it.
“Are you afraid of me, you little bitch?”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Uh-oh...” Riley says quietly.
The camera focuses on the back view of Toxxic. The Straight-Edge Sensation’s shoulders have started to shake... and then the eruption comes.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“...?”
Van Siclen simply looks puzzled as Toxxic creases up before turning back to face him. Genuine mirth is writ all over the face of the World Heavyweight Champion.
“Me... afraid... that’s a good one, Mike,” Toxxic splutters. “Seriously, why would I be scared of you? You’re a good athlete, sure, and you’re a good tag team wrestler, but World Champion... I don’t think so.” He straightens up a bit and wipes his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Mike, I just don’t think you deserve a title shot. Besides, Andrea is ahead of everyone else in the queue... including you.”
“Fine!” Mike fires back desperately, “I’ll give her first shot when I beat you!”
“Sorry, nothing doing,” Toxxic waves him away. “I think I’ve worked out what you’re after now - you were trying to make me mad so you could get the match, then maybe you’d be able to Johnny Dangerous your way to a win and not only beat me but take my title, and you think that’d stop Revolution Zero’s momentum.” Toxxic’s face twists into the familar lopsided grin. “Sorry, Mike. But much as I’d love to kick your arse in the ring, I’ve got a better plan:
“I defend my title against people who’ve earned their shot... and I leave you to rot in midcard hell. Because that will drive you nuts.”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”
Toxxic turns to leave again, but now Mike darts forward and grabs his arm. Toxxic whirls around, ready to start fighting... but Mike backs out of striking distance and starts to speak again.
“I hate to do this, Toxxic... but I think I have something to put on the line too.”
“You have nothing that remotely compares with this,” Toxxic tells him, hefting his title. “Your car? Your house? They mean shit to me Mike, compared to this.”
One more time, Toxxic turns to leave the ring. And now Mike Van Siclen only has one card left.
“...then you can have my career.”
That card just happens to be the wild card.
“WHAT!?” Comet erupts in part-amazement, part-horror as the Staples Centre goes wild for Van Siclen’s suggestion. “Is Citizen Van Siclen really serious about this?”
“He’d better be!” is Riley’s only response.
Toxxic stops in his tracks and half-turns to look back at Mike Van Siclen. The Spectacle is standing in the centre of the ring, staring straight at him. Toxxic can tell the offer is genuine... and that is very intriguing indeed.
“Your career,” the Straight-Edge Sensation says, just to clarify. “If you win, you get the World Heavyweight Title and the rare distinction of a win over me. And if I win, the leader of the Urban Empire, Mike Van Siclen, finally shuts up and leaves the SWF for good?”
Mike simply nods, then raises his mic.
“And when I do, after I’ve honoured any rematch clause you may or may not have, I’ll give Andrea her title shot.”
Toxxic grins, lopsidedly as ever.
“Well Mike, I guess I’ll see you at Storm then. But I promise you that will be your last match... and I never break a promise.”
Toxxic rolls under the ropes and heads up the entrance ramp, a smile playing over his features. But despite his cocky demeanor, it's still ‘Popular’ by Nada Surf that kicks up over the speakers, and it's Mike Van Siclen standing in the centre of the ring, it's his name that the crowd chants. Tonight the two men lock up for statistics...
... on Storm, they lock up for everything that matters.
FADE OUT
-
Comet: Let's get our next match underway now. We've got a lot to come here tonight and limited time to show it, with a huge main event with a lot of stars to showcase.
Riley: Yeah, and I'm pretty sure at least one of them has creative control. Hence us having to rush this opening.
Comet: Indee...
"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"
...WAAAAAHHHHH...
*DUM DUM*
Comet: ...dastards.
"Megalomaniac" by Incubus hits, as through the curtains bursts the former ICTV Champion, Landon Maddix, with Megan Skye just a step behind him and looking particularly eccentric tonight. Which makes up for the scowl on Maddix's face. Together, the twosome stroll down the aisle, as Funyon quickly steps into the middle of the ring.
Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accomapnied to the ring this evening by Megan Skye. From Huron, South Dakota and weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds... LAAAAANDOOON MAAAAADDIIIIXXX!!!!
"YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Maddix salutes the cheering crowd momentarily, before rolling into the ring and testing the ropes for spring. Up the steps skips Megan, smiling broadly. Maddix opens the ropes up for her before going back to his preparations, as Megan stands politely to the side and applauds her man, getting the crowd to do the same. As she does though, pyro cuts the two off...surprising them and the crowd, as Cypress Hill's "How I Could Just Kill A Man" hits.
Comet: Woah. That almost blew me off my seat.
Riley: Phff. I had better pyro than that, and that was way back in '94.
Comet: Did it blow you off your seat?
Riley: Well, not the pyro.
Comet: ...man, I keep walking into those don't I?
Emerging through the curtain, Stryke shares the same sour look that Landon has watching on from the ring, still in a bad mood from his loss on Lockdown. Storming down the aisle, the Aussie ignores the torrent of abuse coming his way, eyes locked on Maddix.
Funyon: And his opponent. From Sydney, Australia...he weighs two hundred and twenty four pounds. This is... STRRRRRYYYYYKKEEEEEEE!!!
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
The pro-US crowd boo the Strykester...more for his place of birth than anything. So, Stryke does what any good heel would and flips off a section of the crowd. Which only prompts them to get louder. Regardless, he rolls into the ring and flips them off again as he steps onto the middle ropes, making sure to scan his middle fingers across the crowd to offend as many people as possible.
Comet: Stryke, newly returned, lost his comeback match to Uncle Filthy in a bloody and potassium filled brawl. Meanwhile, Maddix was cheated out of the Intercontinental Television Championship by Max King.
Riley: Phfooey. King won the match fair and square. Or...as good as.
Comet: Yeah, sure.
Hopping off the turnbuckles, Stryke turns around...to be confronted by Landon Maddix, all up in his grill if you will. Angrily Stryke pushes Maddix away with one hand. But Maddix is right back at Stryke, nailing him with a stiff forearm which triggers the bell going off...
*DING DING DING!*
...to begin the match. Away staggers Stryke, as Maddix moves in with a couple more forearms on the Aussie. Stryke stops Maddix's momentum with a knee to the gut however, before whipping Maddix into the ropes. Maddix rebounds sharply, taking Stryke down with a clothesline before continuing off into the opposite ropes. Back up scrambles Stryke, only to take a second clothesline. And again, Maddix hits the ropes, brushing past Stryke this time. Stryke is dazed and begins to stagger around the ring aimlessly, ending up right besides the ropes as Maddix returns and hits a third clothesline, this one looping Stryke up and over the top rope to the floor!
Comet: And what a start from our good Citizen Maddix!
Riley: Good!?! He's a dirty rotten cheater. And not the good sort. The 'I don't like Bobby Riley' sort.
Regaining his bearings on the outside, Stryke realises where he is and frustratedly kicks out at the air...as from the ring, Maddix watches on. With a curse and a shake of the head, Stryke turns back to the ring and rolls back in. Maddix backs off as he does so, allowing Stryke time to re-compose himself before the two men dive into a collar and elbow tie-up. Quick as a flash, Landon ducks behind Stryke and takes him to the mat with a schoolboy...
ONE!
T...
Kickout by Stryke, who rolls to his feet and knees Maddix deep in the abdomen. Another knee is driven into Maddix's gut area, before Stryke snaps Landon's head upwards with a European uppercut. Away staggers Maddix, but back he comes moments later...
*SLAP!*
"WHOOOOO!"
...with a knifedge chop. Stryke gasps and grabs at his chest as Maddix pulls Stryke forward, placing Stryke's neck in a cravaté. But that subdues Stryke only mentarily, as he swings his elbow back and catches Maddix hard in the air, sending his equilibrium into a spiral. Quickly releasing Stryke, Maddix tends to his ear, as Stryke takes advantage and whips Maddix hard into the turnbuckles! Maddix bounces out of the corner, stumbling forward like a drunkman trying to find his way home...but finding only a Stryke Rolling Forearm!
Riley: There we go! That's how you strike someone...none of this weak, chopping crap.
Down goes Maddix, his eyes taking a moment to roll back into their regular position in their sockets. Straight away though, Stryke is back on the offense with a quick legdrop across the top of the head. Maddix's body jolts on impact, getting quickly cradled up into a pin...
ONE!
TW...
Kickout!
Stryke pulls off of the cover as if expecting a kickout, and is quick to get back to his feet. So is Maddix, but still looking particularly wobbly on his feet as he stumbles instinctively towards Stryke and into three stinging right hands. The third of which dropping Maddix to one knee. In lunges Stryke quickly and hooks Maddix in a front facelock, clasping his hands together and squeezing as hard as he can on Landon's neck. Maddix smartly drops low to his knees, looking for some extra leverage as he pushes upwards and slowly starts to tip Stryke over his head...
...no! Stryke kicks downwards and re-centres his weight, dropping safely to the mat with the front facelock intact. Only this time, Stryke doesn't take the risk of being countered again and kicks forwards at Maddix's right knee. Down drops Maddix, as Stryke crouches down into Maddix's body.
Comet: To the knee goes Stryke, which is Maddix's weak-point. But the main focus remains the neck Robert.
Riley: Well, a weak neck won't survive a Low End Theory.
With all of Stryke's 224 pounds leant down across the back of his neck, Maddix starts to squirm and struggle away. So Stryke sends a boot around the back of Maddix's leg. That stops Landon in his tracks and gives Stryke the time to force him straight south, pushing Landon onto his front with the front facelock still applied. Sensing trouble Maddix tries to push himself back up onto his feet, but doesn't get far upwards before Stryke flips over Maddix and bridges over with the facelock still on! Landon's neck is now at a vile angle, his head being pulled right back. Obviously, Megan looks considerably worried at her man's predicament, but resists from helping him out.
Comet: That is one nasty move. The head of Citizen Maddix is being ruthlessly seperated from his shoulders that little bit more with every passing second!
"LAN - DON! LAN - DON! LAN - DON!"
The crowd begin to rally behind "La Cucaracha" as he starts to wave vacantly around, in search of the ropes. They aren't near enough. So instead, Maddix starts to teeter and totter towards the right...away from Stryke's grip, which is beginning to loosen as he uses up energy with his bridge. Eventually Landon's attempts are enough to prompt Stryke to release the hold and stomp Maddix's head and neck area.
From the outside, Megan Skye is looking particularly nervous and looks for something to take her mind off of Maddix's predicament, fiddling with her high heeled purple boots.
Back in the ring, and Stryke is hauling Maddix up to a vertical base once more by his hair. A swift forearm snaps back Maddix's increasingly fragile neck once more, before irish whipping Maddix off the ropes. Landon rebounds and charges straight back into a clothesline. He hits the mat hard too, jolting his neck again, as Stryke makes a relaxed pinfall attempt...
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Landon just manages to get a shoulder up in time, but not exactly impressively.
Comet: These quick pinfalls are not exactly working for Stryke.
Riley: Yeah they are. With every kickout, Maddix's neck is being weakened and he's expending extra energy. Eventually, the runt's tank will be on empty and then it's game over.
Struggling to his feet, Landon pulls himself slowly up to his feet with Stryke allowing him to do so. As he reaches his feet though, Stryke steps in and crashes a European uppercut into Maddix's jaw to again jolt "La Cucaracha"'s neck back. Away staggers Maddix again, his equilibrium still playing up and the effects of Stryke's offense still affecting him...as Stryke hits a second European uppercut against the ropes. Into the ropes Maddix slumps, getting pulled out by Stryke and placed in another front facelock. Maddix reads the move like a book though and drops to his knees, taking Stryke up and over with a fireman's carry takeover...only for Stryke to land on his feet somehow. Stumbling forward, Stryke manages to stay on his feet and motions for Maddix to get back up. He does, and Stryke throws a third European uppercut...
...but again Maddix has it scouted. Landon spins through the attempt and looks to take Stryke over with a backslide. However, with a weak neck and a bum knee, Maddix finds that too much to ask. Quickly Stryke snaps his head backwards, headbutting Landon's. The two heads clock each other and Maddix is the worse off for it, allowing Stryke to unhook his arms and place Maddix in backslide position. Only, Stryke doesn't look for the pin. Instead he drops to his knees and hits the backslide neckbreaker! Maddix crumples to the canvas, as Stryke stands back up and smiles a sneering, Australian smile that seems to say 'I just broke your hero's name, mate!'
Comet: Stryke hitting the backslide neckbreaker and keeping himself one step ahead of the game. This is a very different Stryke we're seeing. A dominant Stryke. A motivated Stryke.
Riley: A Stryke that actually looks like winning a match.
Comet: Citizen Stryke has won matches before.
Riley: Yes I know. What was it...September 2002? Or...was it August?
Comet: You are a cad, Robert.
Turning away from the crowd to Megan Skye, Stryke smiles his sinister looking smile once more towards her...but she seems pre-occupied with her boot still. Meanwhile, Landon is getting back to his feet. But gingerly. Which gives Stryke time to turn away from Megan and back to the action, grabbing Maddix and irish whipping him towards the corner...
*CHINK!*
...which he hits sternum first with IMPACT~! Away from the buckles wobbles Landon, struggling to stay on his feet but just about doing so. Until Stryke struts over to Maddix and hooks his hands underneath his chin, ready for the Lungblower. Maddix fires in a back elbow to the jaw though, shaking Stryke and causing him to release Maddix...and he quickly goes behind on Stryke and applies the same hold on Stryke's head, falling backwards and pulling Stryke down into a So-Dak Moment! In desperation, Maddix reaches forward and hooks Stryke's legs...
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Comet: Citizen Maddix, almost stealing a victory from under the nose of Stryke!
Maddix rolls back to his feet, holding his throbbing head as Stryke gets back up too. In walks Stryke, but he gets pushed back into the turnbuckles by Maddix...
*SLAP!*
"WHOOOOO!"
...and there's a chop!
*SLAP!*
"WHOOOOO!"
...and another!
...but a third is cut off by Stryke clothesline catching him in the face! Maddix drops to the mat wearily, with Stryke leaps to the middle rope and quickly comes off with a double stomp, which drives the wind out of Maddix's gut with 224 pounds of force!!!
"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Riley: Who says trampolining is only for children!
Maddix clutches at his ribs, as Stryke drops to the side of the former ICTV Champion and hooks the leg to make a cover...
ONE!
TWO!
NOOOOO!
Maddix's right shoulder shoots up at the very last second...the force of him doing so causing Maddix to cough, splutter, gasp for breath and favour his neck all at once.
Comet: Citizen Maddix, fresh off of a beating from Max King, is having a rough ride here tonight. But if there's one thing we know about Landon Maddix, it's that he won't give up without a considerable fight and pulling something from nowhere. Just ask Tom Fles...
Riley: DON'T...mention that!
Comet: Sooo-rrreee!
Dragging Maddix back up, Stryke drills Landon with a hard forearm across the jaw. And a second. A third, dropping Maddix meekly to one knee. And a fourth brought down across the back of the neck with force, flopping him face-first to the canvas. With Landon down, Stryke strolls over to the corner and pushes himself up onto the middle turnbuckle, stopping there for a moment to insult the crowd with a rude gesture once more. Again they boo and again Stryke laughs. He's a heel, baby! Looking away from the crowd and to Maddix, Stryke sees his weakened opponent struggling to his feet and takes the time to seat himself comfortably on the top turnbuckle. Eventually Maddix is up, staggering towards what he can see of Stryke and looking to grab him. Instead, Stryke grabs him and floats over Landon with a diving neckbreaker...
...getting backdropped off mid-move! Stryke crashes into the canvas and clutches at his back, eyes snapped open from surprise as he gets back to his feet. Maddix meanwhile slumps back into the turnbuckle and grabs at his neck. Shaking off the pain, Stryke pulls himself back to his feet and sees Landon backed in a corner so charges in. Only, Landon is waiting on him and sidesteps Stryke, causing the Aussie crashing sternum first into the turnbuckles! Back he staggers, as Maddix connects with a backbrain wheelkick. And forward sprawls the cold-cocked Stryke, landing throat first across the middle rope!
Comet: Robert, would you happen to have a cellphone in your pocket~!!!
Riley: No, I'm just pleased to see you.
Comet: ...
Riley: ...it was a joke...
Backing away, Maddix turns to the crowd and smiles broadly...
"SIX... OOHHHHH... FIIIVE!"
...making his intentions clear as he charges off the opposite ropes, running back and swinging around the ropes, connecting with the 605 right between the eyes of Stryke! Back flops Stryke, looking to be out of it, as Maddix pulls himself back up on the apron before climbing up the turnbuckles towards the top rope. The crowd rise to their collective feet as Maddix quickly reaches the top rope, steadying himself for little more than a moment before launching off the top rope...
...but MISSING a Frog Splash!!!
Comet: Citizen Stryke, moving out of the way just in the nick of time!
Maddix bounces off the canvas, chest and head getting thrown about by the bad landing. Gutsily he gets to his feet but stops once there, as Stryke plants his boot into the gut of "La Cucaracha" and grabs a hold of his right hand. Placing it through Maddix's legs, Stryke pumphandles up Maddix and stops, nodding with a smile on his face indicating that he assumes this match is as good as over. But if he'd checked his position on the card recently, he'd realise that by lifting Maddix in a pumphandle position, Landon would have a chance to float over him and roll Stryke up...
ONE!
TWO!
TH...
KICKOUT!
"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!"
Stryke manages to get a shoulder up just in time, to Megan's dismay and Maddix's frustration. Quickly Maddix is right back up looking to put Stryke away for good as he applies a loose front facelock and looks to fall to the mat. But Stryke blocks the DDT attempt, catching Maddix as he falls and snapping back with a vicious Northern Lights Suplex that causes the crowd to gasp in shock! Holding on for the bridge, Stryke yells at the slow reacting Sexton Hardcastle to make the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
SHOULDERUPBYMADDIX!!!
"YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"
This time it's Stryke who is refusing to believe Sexton Hardcastle's counting skeeelz, slapping the mat furiously at the turn of events. Getting to his feet, the angry Aussie gets up in Hardcastle's face and tries to convince him that it was a three count, but of course Hardcastle is having none of it. So Stryke does the smart thing and pushes Hardcastle in the chest. Of course Hardcastle goes down like a Portugese footballer with an inner ear infection, making the most of Stryke's shove. His dramatics worry Megan Skye though, as she gets onto the apron and checks on Hardcastle.
Wearing only one boot.
Riley: Wait...what's that in Maddix's hand?
Cut to a close up of Maddix, holding Megan's high heeled purple boot in his hands, which the crowd are rather excited about.
Comet: I do believe that's an item of footwear, Robert.
Riley: ...HE'S GOT A WEAPON! REFEREEEEE!!!
Hardcastle is busy getting checked on by Megan, which gives Maddix free-reign to spin a rather bemused looking Stryke around...
*THWACK!*
...and nail Stryke in the face with Megan's boot!!!
Riley: ...we have hit an all-time low.
Comet: I don't know about that. Remember when Landon used to use baguettes as weapons?
Riley: ...okay. Well...this is still pretty darned low Comet!
Stryke is laid out from the shot with Megan's hard based lather boot, looking up at the lights with a distinctly glazed over expression on his face. Maddix quickly disposes of the evidence in his hand, casually flipping the boot over his head and to the outside of the ring. And after a quick wink to Megan, Maddix hits the deck...making sure not to hurt his neck as he does so, but still providing enough of a confusion for referee Hardcastle who limps back to his feet to see both men down and out.
"LAN - DON! LAN - DON! LAN - DON!"
Riley: Look at...this is...I...you saw it Comet!
Comet: Yes...referee Hardcastle I think twisted his ankle as he feel from Stryke's attac...
Riley: I'M TALKING ABOUT THE BOOT!
Comet: Ah, yes. The boot. I can't say that I'm particularly happy about it myself Robert.
With Stryke and Landon down, Hardcastle has no choice but to administer a ten count on both men...
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
Riley: And now, Maddix is faking injury? Can he get any lower?
"FOUR!"
"FI..."
Maddix, sure enough, is getting back to his feet. Trying to conseal a smile, Maddix makes the most of getting up to his feet and favours his neck as he does so. Only trouble is, Stryke is getting up too...although his groggy state is in no way put on. Brushing past Stryke, Maddix coolly hops to the middle turnbuckle and waits, as Stryke stumbles up and over towards Landon and into a teeth rattling right hand! Stryke is staggered, but before he can fall down, Maddix suddenly springs off the middle rope and whips around, taking Stryke down with him for a bad Crash Landon!!!
"YEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!"
The crowd pop, as Stryke's head bounces sickeningly off the canvas. Only for Maddix to remain on the mat with him, having jolted his neck on impact. All the same, Maddix still has enough left to roll over onto Stryke with a grimace and make somewhat of a cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THREEEEEE!!
*DING DING DING!*
"Megalomaniac" hits once more as soon as Hardcastle's hand slaps the mat for the third time, with Maddix quickly rolling off the cover and out of the ring. With a beaming smile he embraces Megan, who still has one shoe on and one shoe in her hand. But she puts on an innocent, butter wouldn't melt look and everything is right with the world.
Funyon: Your winner of the match...LANDON MADDIX!
Comet: Victory for Citizen Maddix, surviving sustained neckwork to get the duke over the Blunder From Down Under, Stryke.
Riley: Ah bull! Tell it like it is Comet! Landon Maddix cheated! He used the boot, he had the ref distra...
Comet: What's that? Commercials? Sorry to cut you off Robert, really I am, but we have money to make. Tally-ho!
-
TVs around the world jump back to the massive throng within the Staples Center in LA, from just showing the latest teaser from “The Apprentice”, where Donald Trump once again says, “You’re Fired” to some poor schlep. Without warning, the arena lights drop down real low, and the Center’s speakers start to rumble ominously… The sounds of thunder start to rise as…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
The crowd joins in with their own ominous rumblings. Flashes of white pyro streak down from the rafters, imitating lightning bolts… The camera follows them down as a loud clap of thunder tries to echoes through the arena… However…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
… A growingly irritated crowd quickly drowns it out. The speakers re-fire, "F.E." by 40 Below Summer kicking up loud. Dual lines of flames burst to life, outlining the stage area. The cameras try to focus beyond the flames…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Sean Davis, Hardcore Title strapped around his waist, steps through them and out into the wrath of the crowd. Marcus Washington, confidant to Davis, is close behind as they head down the entrance ramp. Funyon comes into the ring, card and microphone in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Hardcore Gamer Title!”
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
“Introducing first, accompanied by Marcus Washington… From Jacksonville, Florida… He is the current Hardcore Gamer champion… ‘The Perfect Storm’… Sean… DAAAAAAAAAA-VIS!”
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
“Welcome back, loyal citizens, to the City of Angels, the Staples Center, and Monday Night Smarkdown!” Cyclone Comet’s voice cuts through the wash of hate that the fans are dishing out for Sean Davis. “We apologize for our break running long, but we’re back now with a match for the Hardcore Gamer’s Title! The champion, Sean Davis, looks to defend against a newly returned and quite non-rusty Christian Fury.” Davis and Washington slide into the ring, Marcus trying to give his ‘client’ some match advice over the crowd’s caustic response, but…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
They’re having none of it. They keep raising their volume as Washington gets more and more flustered. Davis, to his credit, seems utterly nonplussed by the crowd’s heat.
“Citizen Fury impressed on Lockdown as he fought off not one, but two other competitors to claim the #1 contendership for the Hardcore Gamer Title!” This statement warrants a sound of bemusement from Comet’s cohort, Bobby Riley.
“Bobbo? Problem?”
“Oh,” Riley responds, “Nothing really…”
“Good.”
“…Other than the fact that the other two men lost the match more than Fury won it.”
“Oh no, not this again…” Mercifully, the arena lights drop down to nothingness...
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
The flashbulbs start to flare up, and the crowd rallies around the upcoming wrestler… The way they figure it, anything’s better than Davis and Washington.
“See what I mean?” Riley bemoans as System Of A Down's "Aerials" softly filters over the house speakers. “I’m just about to give some good insight, and he has to interrupt me! Is this someone that we want to have as a champion??? I mean, come on…” By this time, the music has come to the point just before the first verse, so…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!! A massive pyro explosion flares up at the entrance ramp, and the music switches to the second guitar solo in the song… And from behind the curtains and smoke… Out comes Fury!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
“See what I mean, Comet?”
“… Shut up, Bobbo.”
“And now coming to the ring, from Cleveland, Ohio… Weighing 231 pounds… He is… CHRISTIAN… FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!!!”
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
“Citizen Fury getting quite the warm reception here, wouldn’t you say Bobbo?”
“Meh… L.A. is a town of two-bit crooks, convicts, and whiny Hollywood socialites, delighting in the torture and torment of others.”
“…Sounds like your kind of town.”
“Yeah, it’s a riot.”
“Droll, Bobbo… Very, very droll…”
His moves methodical, his focus clear and unflinching, Fury makes his way down the ramp towards the ring, kendo stick over his shoulder. The cheering of the fans looks to be completely lost on him, his eyes watching one thing: the tandem of Davis and Washington. Marcus talks quickly to his ‘charge’, pointing at Fury and gesturing wildly. Davis, however, locks eyes with Fury. Fury stands at the end of the entrance ramp, returning that burning stare… Then Fury jumps to the ring apron, springboarding himself in…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
…much to the crowd's delight. Washington backs off a little, but Davis stands there, raising a brow as Fury lands with kendo stick brandished in his general direction. Fury then lowers the stick, and walks up to Davis, sizing him up. Washington, seeing his ‘charge’ has a distinct advantage, feels a bit more comfortable now and comes back to Davis’ side.
“Citizen Fury seems the crowd favorite,” Comet observes, “But may be physically overmatched this time around.”
“Physically overmatched, out-experienced, and all alone,” Riley notes with a grin in his voice. “The only thing I think Fury has on the champ is speed… And he’s going to have to use it all to run away from Rev-0’s brutalizing hulk!” We see Washington saying something to Fury… The nearest camera mike barely picks it up: “You’re my client’s competition? He’ll take you on… And beat you.”
Fury responds, looking straight at Davis: “You think you can beat me without your friends?”
Davis says nothing, but Washington snaps off a reply: “You’ll find out just how good he is, rookie!” And then…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Washington takes a right-handed swipe across Fury’s face, sending the redheaded man’s sunglasses skidding across the ring!
“What an insulting display!” Comet blurts out.
“Yes,” Riley fires back, “What Fury said to Mister Washington’s client was really insulting! He’s lucky he didn’t let Davis take his head off right there!” After a moment, Fury’s eyes open to reveal two ice-blue orbs… But with a fire inside them. He straightens his head, looking into Washington’s eyes, his expression completely, utterly cold. Washington looks a bit petrified… Davis is still unplussed, and actually chuckles when Fury says something to Washington: “You’re gonna regret that!” Then…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Fury fires back with a right of his own.
Washington ducks back as Davis steps in, taking the right to the side of the jaw!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
However, the reaction he receives from Davis is a very sick and twisted sneer. Fury, face determined, rears back for another shot, this time looking to lay Davis out. However, this time Davis grabs his fist, drags him down in a wristlock, and pushes the shoulder down to get a good lock on the reversed armbar! Fury’s kendo stick drops to the middle of the ring as Washington scampers out of the ring, and starts banging on the ring apron in evil glee.
DING! DING! DING!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
“Davis gets Fury under control…’ Comet starts as Davis slaps more pressure into the armbar.
“Ha, ha, ha, Comet… Nice one.”
“Like I was saying,” Comet starts again, blatantly ignoring Riley,”Davis in control now, and one has to wonder what Fury was thinking…”
----------
“What the Hell was I thinking?!?!? This guy has several pounds on me… And from the looks of him, and the… Fucking… Searing… Pain… I’m feeling… It ain’t fat. And the way he took my punch… That was damn near full force! I shouldn’t have let his little lackey goad me like that. And I shouldn’t be trying to go toe-to-toe with him like that. But first things first… I have to get out of my current predicament.”
I dampen down the internal voice for a few moments so I can put a plan into action… I try first untwisting my arm… But Davis must’ve felt me trying that, as his pressure increases, sending a fresh shot of pain blasting from my arm straight to the middle of my brain.
“Alright, that didn’t work…” Then, another voice creeps into my ears…
“You’re not much of a fighter now, are you, Fury???” I look, seeing Marcus Washington on the ring apron. He’s taunting me. But… I can’t let him dig at me like that. I can’t confront him direct, or I’ll distract myself. All I can do is fight ‘his boy’, beat him, and get at him in the psyche.
“Whatcha gonna do now, huh, Fury???”
It’s really a good question, but I come up with an answer. I still have one free hand… And I’ve got an open shot… I swing up with that free hand, and my aim is true. I get Davis right in the fleshy part of the throat with a less-than-full-force nerve strike.
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
I feel his grip slacken just a little bit, but that little bit is all I need. Before he can recover, I jam a quick elbow into his gut, then another… However, their effectiveness is lost on this guy. He’s solidly built. I start to feel the pressure coming back to my arm, overriding the ‘pins and needles’ I was feeling a moment ago. Another plan… Quickly… Out of desperation, I drive my legs up, slamming my trapped shoulder into his body.
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Not much give, but there’s enough… Plenty of pain, too... However, that will pass. I slam the shoulder into him again… Again… Finally, blissfully…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
The hold is released. My arm is on fire and numb all at the same time. Still mobile, but not in great shape. I realize suddenly that the pain numbed my alertness and speed as I look up to see…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
I sag to a doubled-over position as a rising heat in my chest replaces the coolness of the metal chair…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Now I’m on all fours, looking at the mat close up, back radiating nothing but pain all up and down my spine…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Christ that hurts… I’m driven completely to the mat by another chair shot… Every nerve is either on fire, numb, or just screaming, and I find myself not being able to do too much as Davis falls to the mat, flipping me over, hooking the leg nonchalantly…
ONE!...
TWO… And I manage to regain enough unused nerves to command my shoulder to drive up.
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Well, I’m glad the crowd likes it, because I don’t think my opponent does… Davis hauls me up off the mat, and slings me across the ring. I hit the ropes, rebounding, and just manage to duck a clothesline… Counting myself lucky, I start planning for a move off the second rebound… And when it comes, I’m ready… I lower my shoulder, looking to catch Davis unawares… And promptly run into a brick wall.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
I look up to see Davis… Smiling? You have to be kidding, right? All I managed to do was nudge him slightly. I run off to the other set of ropes, bounce, shoulder down…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Nothing! Not a damn thing! I set up again, running as fast as I can off the ropes, and…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
I suddenly find myself gasping for air as I’m lifted clean off the mat and…
SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
I crash into a crumpled heap on the mat after a quick chokeslam. Again with the hooking of the leg…
ONE!...
TWO… Again I drive the shoulder up… Ow… Too bad, it’s the bad one…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Again, Davis drags me up, and pushes me into the corner… He tries to follow close behind with a tackle, but my feet react before my head, and…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Davis clangs into the ring post, stunned for a moment. I try to charge in to take advantage, but he sends me back the direction I came in with a wicked right hook… I stop my backward stumble, but find it was probably a bad idea as he lands a backhanded punch, trying to cave my face in.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
My thoughts exactly as I drop to a knee, my brain steeped and swimming in soreness and pain. Davis stands over me now… This guy really has me by the nuts now, and I’m not sure if I can do anything to win.
-----
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
That’s the crowd reaction as Davis hauls up Fury once more. Fury looks decently staggered, and Davis seems to press the issue by driving Fury back down with a nasty-looking headbutt. Once more, Fury is hauled up and slinged across the ring. Davis lines up and…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
As Fury rebounds, Davis absolutely LEVELS Fury with a shoulder block, then sets to stomping the ever-living Hell out if the downed challenger.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
“Citizen Fury is in all sorts trouble here,” Comet states, a bit of shock tinting his voice.
“Of course he is!” Riley responds, gushing. “You don’t just up and go against the best Hardcore champion that the fed’s seen in ages, and expect to not get pummeled!” Davis, meanwhile, is still stomping on the rolling Fury. Finally, Fury rolls out into the ring… Straight onto the floor, unable to break his fall.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Davis raises his hands, then spies something that makes him smile.
The chair that he used earlier in the match.
He slides the chair out of the ring, then follows suit, eyeing Fury as he gets to all fours. He grabs the chair in his hands, and raises it over his head… And brings it down with crushing power…
BBBBBOOOOONNNNNGGGGG!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
The cheering of the fans seems to catch Davis by surprise as the tingling in his hands fades away… He realizes why they’re cheering as he sees the chair nearly bent in half from its impact…
On the floor! Fury had rolled out of the way!
“Fury extremely lucky there,” Comet says, relieved. “He would’ve been split in half from that powerful chair shot!”
“Lucky,” repeats Riley. “Yeah, I’ll agree that’s all it was.”
Fury, spurned on by the crowd, manages to scramble quickly to his feet. Davis drops his broken chair in favor for another one nearby, which is less broken. He comes after Fury again, but Fury has a little bit of wind about him now, and scoots out of the way, as the chair connects with nothing but air.
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
The crowd cheers as Fury manages to juke and deke out of the way of a few more chair shots.
“Citizen Fury using his speed to his advantage.” Indeed he is, just dodging a chair shot that would’ve taken off his head. Davis, to his credit, is managing to stay calm… He just watches as Fury scoots to a further point from him.
“Davis has a distinct advantage in the psychological department right now though,” Riley shoots back. “Fury doesn’t want to come anywhere near him, because he knows he can’t hang.” Davis stands a moment, then tosses the chair aside, and rolls back into the ring. Upon standing, he beckons to Fury, smiling.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
“Citizen Davis, like you said Bobbo, is playing the mental advantage… Trying to get Fury back into the ring.” Fury, looking a little frazzled, slowly slides into the ring… Somehow Davis is right on him again! A kick to the head is enough to keep Fury down on the mat, and at his mercy. Davis leans, hooking his arms through Fury’s, and locks them behind Fury’s neck! Fury struggles in his grasp, but Davis lifts…
Straight…
Up…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Davis pivots Fury over a bit in a massive show of power, and kneels… Dropping Fury hard, rear-end first on his knee! Fury springs up quickly, but it’s merely involuntary reaction as he flops forward, holding the small of his back.
“Davis with an amazing display of power there!” Riley spouts.
“Citizen Fury could be just about out of this!” Comet bemoans. Davis watches as Fury writhes in pain on the mat, then slides back out of the ring. He grabs his trusty weapon of choice this match, the chair, tossing it into the ring… Then eyes up a nearby table.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
He walks over, swiping the tabletop clean as people scramble from the flying items and the cold rage of the Hardcore Champion. He folds the legs of the table up, and slides the whole apparatus into the ring. He slides in after it, and spies Fury just regaining his bearings, pushing himself slowly to all fours. Davis’ lip curl into a sadistic smile as he takes up the chair, and…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Davis drives Fury back down with a chair shot to the lower back!
“’Citizen’ Davis working the lower back, greatly affected by that massively powerful Atomic Drop!” Comet utters as Davis readies another swing of the chair. “Come on, Christian! Get out of there!” But…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
… No such luck for the plucky challenger as again his back is beaten. Davis once more drops the chair, and flips the prone Fury onto his back rather harshly, hooking the leg almost as an afterthought.
ONE!...
TWO!…
THRE… And Davis lets go of the pin attempt!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
“What a poor showing by Davis!” Comet laments. “He had the win, and is now just toying with Citizen Fury!”
“It’s a hardcore match, Comet!” Riley retorts. “Davis’ going to punish him for thinking that he could compete!” Davis hauls Fury up, then gets him in a headscissors, grabbing around his waist… And with a show of true muscle, he powers Fury up and over his shoulders, letting him sit there…
And sit there…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
And sit there… But Fury’s moving somewhat… Firing weak-looking hits at the top of Davis’ head…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
The crowd’s renewed support for Fury is short-lived as Davis gets tired of Fury just sitting there, and decides to do something… And drops Fury quick and hard…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Fury winds up folding over as Davis executes his high-angle powerbomb!
“This is no good!” Comet screams. “Davis will seriously hurt someone with that dangerous move!”
“If danger’s not your game,” Riley responds, “Why are you here?” Davis looks down at the unmoving Fury and stands, walking to the table he brought into the ring. He grabs it up, and props it up in the opposite corner. He then looks back at the still-unmoving Fury, grinning.
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
“For the love of Aphrodite and the mercy of Zeus…” Comet gasps. “He’s looking to end Citizen Fury here and now!”
“Finally!” Riley says smugly. “Maybe we’ll see the closure of this on-again, off-again Christian Fury thing.” Davis walks over to Fury, dragging him to his feet. Fury, for his credit, throws a few punches into the bruiser’s midsection, but Davis laughs at the paltry excuse for offense. He slings Fury into the corner with the table, and Fury winds up…
SLAM!!!!!
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
…Slapping into the table, head-first! Fury sags against the table. Davis, seeing his chance, gets down in a football stance, ready to move!
“Oh sweet mother of Hera, I can’t watch this!”
-----
“The fans are screaming their heads off… I’ve just been thrown into a table propped up in the corner … And before that, I was abused pretty heavily.” I smile to myself as I sag against the table.
“All according to plan.” I focus, drowning out the crowd, the beat of my heart, and my own breathing, trying to listen for one sound, and one alone…
There!
I hear it now… The sounds of running…
One…
Two…
Three! And just that quick, I roll off the table, into the ropes, and…
SSSSSMMMMMAAAAASSSSSHHHHH!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
I look to my left, smiling a little to myself. The reward of selling my body to get a bit of a breather is evident: Sean Davis, intent on finishing me, didn’t think I might have been resting and recovering… Choosing NOT to fight back… Letting the adrenaline sink in and dull the pain so I can go on… And when he looked to tackle me right through that table…
Well… I’d say he was a little short-sighted. However, he’s already extracting himself from his self-made situation, so I must act quickly. I look around, and find something... Neglected the whole match:
My kendo stick.
I run over, sliding to the ground to grab up my weapon of choice and spring quickly back to my feet… Thank you, “Fight or Flight” responses! Davis… Geez, he recovers rather quickly.
And he doesn’t look the least bit happy.
Ah well, no matter. He’ll survive and deal with it.
Or not.
He comes at me, and I just swing away…
SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAPPPPP!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
I hit Davis once across the chest, and I notice a few things right away.
One, he’s still standing… A slight winded and paused in his advance, but still standing.
Two…
I broke my damn kendo stick!
You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!
Nevertheless, there it is… Half still in my hands, the other half 5 feet behind the now pissed-off Davis. I duck under his grab attempt, and dive for the lonely-looking chair that sits a few feet away. I get to it, grab it up, and pop to a stand…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Thank you, thank you… Soon I won’t have the adrenaline to do that again, but it’s nice it’s appreciated now. I wheel around, and find that Davis is just close enough to swing at. I do so, and…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
… Holy shit. The bastard took a chair shot to the chest, with everything I had behind it, and all I got him to do was kneel? To Hell with this…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Ahhhhh… There we go. A chair shot to the head staggers him… But he’s still… Getting… Up… Must do something about this, and quick! I still have the chair… Not broken yet… So I swing…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
And Davis catches it with both hands! Holy shit… Not good! But… It could be… I let go of the chair, and just that quick, Davis swings down… However, I was expecting that. I jump back, in time to avoid getting my dome caved in, and as he reloads for another swing, I set… Plant… And…
-----
WHAM-SLAP!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Fury manages to fell the bruiser with an out-of-nowhere Gore… But Davis didn’t let the deed go unpunished as he had the foresight to bring the chair back down as he was falling, still managing to level a hard shot on Fury’s lower back.
“Finally Citizen Fury has brought the big man down!” Comet yells over the crowd.
“That may be,” answers Riley, “But what kind of damage did he take doing it?” That’s a good question, seeing as both men are managing to look lifeless…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
That, my friends, is the sound of fan frustration, as Davis sits up… Quickly. He looks around a moment, and sees Fury still down. He rolls Fury over, hooking the leg…
ONE!...
TWO!…
THRE…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Fury shows amazing strength as he powers out of the near-fall!
“Citizen Fury is still in this!” Comet shouts in almost genuine surprise as Davis glares daggers at the ref for, what he considers at least, a slow count.
“Fury is just delaying the inevitable,” Riley sighs. “He should just roll over now, and let Davis retain the belt that’s so rightfully his…” However, Fury doesn’t really show signs of rolling over… As a matter of fact…
SMACK!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Fury levels a dual spinning backfist into the area just under Davis’ jaw! The big man staggers a little bit, but Fury presses the minor advantage…
SMACK!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Another spinning backfist to the jaw! Davis backpedaling slightly now, trying to gather himself, but Fury has none of it…
SMACK!!!!! WHACK!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Another backfist, followed up by a heel kick to the chest puts the champ on the ropes! Fury quickly yanks Davis off the ropes, using that little bit of spring…
SMACK!!!!! WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT!
Fury just leveled the champion with a nasty short-arm clothesline! Down goes Davis! Down goes Davis!
“Amazing offensive outburst by Fury!” Comet exclaims as Fury slides down, hooks the leg…
ONE!...
TWO…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Davis powers the shoulder up, but Fury seems unfazed. He jumps up, immediately running to grab the discarded chair. Davis is climbing to his feet…
-----
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Ahhhh… So cathartic… I watch as Davis reels around from a chair blast to the back of the head… Staggered, but not out. I dump the chair as he approaches me, and catch him across the chest, under the arms, using all my strength to hold him still. I can already feeling him building up to fight me, so I have to do this quick… I spin him around slightly, looking at the mat to see where my target is… Ahhhhh, there it is… I look around at the crowd, and…
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
I think they get what I’m doing… And now’s the time… I summon the last little bit of adrenaline-enhanced strength I have, and heave…
Lifting him up…
I don’t have the strength to get him too high, but it’ll have to do, as gravity’s already trying to undo my work… I pitch forward slightly, and give in to the pull of the Earth…
-----
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM-CLANG!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT!
“By Ares!” Comet blurts out. “Fury just landed a sidewalk slam onto the steel chair! Davis’ head and upper back just smashed onto the unrelenting steel!”
“Wow,” Riley replies, seemingly humbled. “I must say that impressed me… Your call, however, did not.” Fury, whom that move took a lot out of as well, crawls over and hooks the leg for the cover…
ONE!...
TWO…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Davis powers the shoulder up again! Fury is a bit slow in his moves now, but is quick enough to grab the chair from under Davis’ prone form, and…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Fury lays Davis out once more with a ‘Louisville Slugger’ style shot to the side of the head before Davis has a change to recover any more. Fury then lays the chair down on Davis’ chest, and eyes the top turnbuckle!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
“By the pipes of Pan!” Comet cries. “Don’t do it, Fury! There’s too much at stake!”
“Do it, Fury!” Riley yells over top of his partner as Fury climbs the turnbuckles. “Show the world how much of a fool you really are!” Fury gets to the top buckle, surveying the scene below… Davis…
BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Davis is starting to stir! Fury sees this, stands up straight, and leaps…
Falling…
Leg extended…
And…
WWWWWHHHHHAAAAA-CCCCCLLLLLAAAAANNNNNGGGGG!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT!
Fury grimaces in pain, but…
Davis didn’t move! And doesn’t now!
“He did it!” Comet exclaims with near orgasmic joy.
“He did it…” Riley utters with shock and surprise. Fury bites his lip, his leg obviously hurting, but crawls and hooks Davis’ leg for the cover!
ONE!...
TWO!…
…
…
…
THREE!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
The crowd explodes as the ref comes grabs the belt from ringside, and places it into Fury’s hands as he stares up at the ceiling, breathing hard, in obvious pain. Fury blinks, then raises his hands, holding the belt up for the world to see!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
“Your winner…” Funyon announces over the crowd, “And… NEW SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion… CHRISTIAN… FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!!!”
“Citizens, we’re up against the commercial break, but we’ll be right back!” The camera fades out on Fury’s face, filled anguish, pain, and joy all at once…
-
The sound of the roaring fans is the first thing to greet everyone's ears as SWF Smarkdown is on the air. The camera swings around the arena, picking up the usual smattering of signs - insults to Toxxic and Revolution Zero, generic 'we love *insert name here*' signs, and a disturbing number of them are dedicated to Uncle Filthy. As the camera swings around the arena and pans down towards the announcer's table, the voices of Comet and Riley become audible.
"Hello everyone, I'm CYCLOOOOOOOOOONE COMET! We're on the air citizens, and we're already getting a match underway! In just a few moments, Citizen Wolfe will go up against the... unique... Citizen Filthy!" Comet calls.
"Unique? The guy's a BUM!" Riley snorts.
"I can't feel the way I did before
Don't turn your back on me
I won't be ignored!"
The sound of Linkin Park's "Faint" kicks up over the speakers, and the camera immediatley swings towards the stage as the form of Evan Wolfe strides down the ramp, a single white strobelight lighting him up as he approaches the ring. Funyon is ready as ever to do his duty, and he begins his usual pre-match announcements.
"The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall! Introducing first, from Greensboro North Carolina! At six-foot-two and two hundred and twenty seven pounds... EVAAAAAAAAAAAAN WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLFE!"
The crowd simply boos the living daylights out of the unknown rookie, as he rolls into the ring and mounts the turnbuckles for a moment, before leaping off them and waiting for his opponent, striding around the ring. He doesn't get it right away, as the instrumental Jazz From Hell version of Frank Zappa's "Let's Make The Water Turn Black" blasts from the speakers! The familiar and comical forms of Cap'n Plundah and Gorilla Pete dance out onto the stage, trying to rile the crowd up into an "Uncle Filthy" chant as they groove their way down the ramp. Half-heartedly, some of the crowd get into it, but most of them just stare in surprise.
"And his opponent, from... theeee Magical World Of Your Imagination! With Gorilla Pete and Cap'n Plundah, at six-foot-two and two hundred and fifty six pounds... UNNNNNNNNCLE FIIIIILTHY!"
"WHADDAYA SAY, KIDS!?"
In the silence that follows, a solitary and embarassed voice calls out "Uncle!" from the crowd amid the odd cheer or two. A cheap burst of yellow pyritechnics explode from the stage, revealing the hobo-ish form of Uncle Filthy, with the Magic Bindle over his shoulder. He waves to the crowd with a cheesy grin, before racing down the ramp past his dancing cohorts and jumping in. Ripping off his coat, the inspirational shirt for the day is "Don't Be Filthy.". Half the crowd groans inwardly at the pun of that, too. Funyon slides out of the ring as the commentators begin to speak.
"This match promises to be interesting, Robert." Comet begins.
"Indeed..." Riley grins a mile wide. "Look!"
Lights around the Smarktron have turned an ominous green colour. And then a machinegun-like burst of black and white pyrotechnics erupt along the ramp!
"Your cruel device...
Your blood, like ice...
One look could kill...
My pain, your thrill!"
As smoke billows around the ramp, the familiar tune of Alice Cooper's "Poison" continues to ring out. Half the crowd cringes and the other starts up ragged cheers as the familiar, catsuit-clad, clawed and furred form of everyone's favourite ferret-weasel - Ebony - strides from the smoke with a sadistic grin on her face. She pirouettes once on the ramp and spreads her arms as if motioning the crowd to love her, and some of them do. At ringside, Funyon shuffles through his cards and finally picks one out, lifting the microphone as Comet and Riley watch in mild surprise.
"And making a surprise appearance! At six-foot and an even two hundred pounds! From the Hidden Tower of the world of Talla'doon! She is the one and only... EBOOOOOOOOOOONYYYYYYY!"
"When did she get an introduction?" Riley whispers to his partner.
"I don't know." Comet frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe Zenon hired her permanently."
"...that scares me."
"And me too, Robert..."
Evan already had a disgusted look on his face at the sight of Uncle Filthy, but the sight of something on two legs with fur just makes him shake his head and head for the ropes. Muttering something about this being far too weird for a rookie like him, he's about to leave the area... when Uncle Filthy simply spins him around and decks him with a wild punch! In surprise, Wolfe rolls to the floor while Uncle dances around in the ring, as his two assistants move to question the presence of the lesbian ferreasel approaching the ring. Riley and Comet watch the goings on with raised eyebrows.
"Not a good idea..." Riley watches Cap'n Plundah and Gorilla Pete block Ebony's path.
Everyone's favourite gangsta pirate gets the trademark clawed kick to the groin, sending him collapsing to the ground and whimpering in pain. Ebony lifts her eyebrows at Gorilla Pete, leaning forward to sniff the moth eaten costume a few times as if unsure of what she's seeing. Pete himself is espousing on just how awesome the suit Ebony has to be wearing is, and the lesbian ferret has had enough of it. She pushes past Pete and approaches the ring, and the man in the suit grabs her shoulder... only to receive a stunningly flexible kick to the chin! Diving into the ring, Ebony kips up lightly to her feet and mounts the turnbuckles, lifting her arms to scattered praise from the crowd.
By now Evan Wolfe has regained his feet and cautiously inches around the ring, but the mildly psychotic lesbian's attention is not on him, as she jumps off the turnbuckles. She has a paw over her nose and is simply staring at Uncle Filthy, who dances a happy little jig before finally noticing the sleek, black-furred figure standing before him. No one seems to know what's about to happen, as Filthy strides forward with a ridiculous looking grin on his face. He puts a hand on Ebony's shoulder, almost friendly...
...and the ferreasel simply bitchslaps the taste out of his mouth! As Filthy rubs his jaw, Ebony inspects her paw with a disgusted look and brushes it off against her suit, before hooking an arm and whipping Uncle into the corner. She follows this up with a sharp spear, ramming an elbow into the dirty old hobo-lookalike's ribs, before doing a backflip kick that connects under the chin. Uncle collapses into a sitting position, and Ebony flips him off with a slender claw before hammering the stomps into his groin area.
"Crotch Crusher." Riley calls half-heartedly.
"Aptly named." Comet agrees as Ebony hammers away with stomps to Filthy's testicles.
At around the count of twenty, Filthy appears to have passed out, so Ebony shrugs and ceases, scuffing her foot on the mat to get the grime off. She snorts disgustedly and looks around for the other wrestler in the match, and spots Evan just reaching the bottom of the ramp with a 'this is too weird for me' look on his face. With a smile, the ferret-weasel hops the rops and jumps down from the apron. The moment Wolfe sees her coming, after what she did to Filthy's poor testicles, makes him back away all the faster, never taking his eyes off her.
"Run! Run faster, Evan!" Riley urges.
And so Ebony breaks into a loping run.
"Too late." Comet winces.
And before Wolfe can blink, she slams a beautiful looking running kick straight into his testicles, making him wheeze and stumble back, gasping in pain. Tears spring to his eyes as Ebony inspects her handiwork - Cap'n Plundah and Gorilla Pete still down, Uncle Filthy unconscious in the ring, and Evan stumbling around holding his crotch. And so with a shrug, Ebony applies a front facelock and falls back with the Wolfe in her grasp, wrapping thighs around his waist and squeezing tight. Wolfe's screams are muffled as she tightens her vicelike grip, until someone has the presence of mind to ring the bell and get the ferreasel's attention.
"Your winner of this Double No Show.... EBOOOOOOOOOOONY!" Funyon yells.
The sounds of Alice Cooper's "Poison" ring out over the speakers again, as after the longest pause, Ebony releases her favoured submission and rolls to her feet. She does a little pirouette on the spot, looking around at the unconscious Uncle, his battered assistants, and the wheezing, very-much-in-pain Evan Wolfe. And then she shrugs, striding up the ramp and stopping on the stage, turning around to grin out at the crowd, winking at one particularly attractive female at ringside. And then she makes a flamboyant bow, to scattered...cheers!
"One look (one look)
Could kill (could kill)
My pain, your thrill!"
How she managed to get so popular on this world that isn't her own, she'll never know. But the lesbian ferret-weasel basks in the spotlight for as long as possible, before strolling backstage with "Poison" still blaring in the background. The camera swings back towards the announce table, where Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley continue to sit, looking at the ringside carnage. As officials and medical crew come out to check on the various participants, the two announcers shrug.
"Ebony with a surprise appearance tonight to 'welcome' these people to the SWF, I guess..." Riley shakes his head.
"Something tells me they must have annoyed management" Comet says sagely. "Maybe they didn't write."
"Fourth wall!"
"Oh, right. I wonder why she's even still about, Robert. I thought she was hired by the no-longer-with-us Commissioner Zenon..."
The duo look out across the ringside area and then at each other. As the camera begins to cut to commercial, Riley's voice is a little above a whisper.
"Maybe he gave her a contract..."
Fade to Black.
-
As the lights at the Staples Center dim, Funyon walks briskly into the ring. The crowd gives the man with the bow tie a warm round of applause as he picks up the microphone.
“The next contest will be a singles match”, be begins as cheers for rkade and Carnage compete for attention. “It will be one fall for a finish with a 30 minute time limit…”
A slow, metal rendition of NES Gauntlets’ theme begins playing over the arenas sound system as the audience turns their attention to the Jumbotron.
“Making his way to the ring, he weights in at 350 pounds and hails from Sacramento, California…Ladies and gentlemen give a warm welcome to rkaaaaade!!!”
The crowd gives a polite round of applause as rkade steps from behind the curtains and stands at the threshold of the entrance ramp. A stout Japanese woman with a very bad mullet hairstyle who appears to be his valet accompanies him. As the crowd watches rkade he stops to offer a few quick poses, then makes his way to the ring.
“It appears the next match will be the SWF rookie match we’ve been hearing about,” Cyclone Comet states as Robert Riley stares incredulously at the approaching rkade.
“Where the hell did they find this guy?” Riley blurts as rkade runs his fingers through his long, unkempt beard. A few members of the audience chuckle at the site of the five foot ten cannon ball of a man heading towards the ring. The immediate impression is he is more biker than wrestler with his black bandanna and far from athletic physique. A large black eye patch covers his right eye giving him a menacing appearance. That added with a large barbed wire cane he carries over his head sends a clear message rkane has come to fight.
“I believe Citizen rkade hails from Sacramento” Cyclone Comet responds as Riley watches rkade roll into the ring and climb the far side ring post. The crowd applauds enthusiastically as rkade strikes a pose for them. Outside the ring the Japanese woman walks to the ring post area as rkade climbs down to the mat. He removes his black bandanna and flannel shirt and hands them to his valet as he turns to await his opponent.
“He’s disgusting!” Robert Riley exclaims as he gets a good look at the shirtless, hairy fat man in the center of the ring. “He’s supposed to be a wrestler?”
As the audience quiets Funyon once again picks up the microphone.
“…And his opponent…hailing from parts unknown he weights in at 307 pounds. Ladies and gentlemen give a warm welcome to…Carrrrnage!!!”
BOOM
A cloud of smoke rises from under the Jumbotron as Drowning Pool blares over the speakers.
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the flooooooooooor!!!!!
Out of the smoke the six foot five Carnage slowly emerges from behind the curtain and glances over the crowd. A hush fills the arena, as Carnage is an imposing site; he walks deliberately towards the ring. He is wearing a leather mask with wires covering the mouth and had a wild look in his eyes. As he nears the ring he avoids eye contact with the crowd. Inside the ring rkade locks his eyes on his opponent as he pauses before entering the ring.
“Citizen Carnage is an imposing physical specimen”, Cyclone Comet states matter of factly as the referee instructs rkade to put town his barbed-wire cane. Carnage waits patiently while rKane surrenders the weapon to his valet, Combat Toyoda.
“He may be big, but he’s a total whack job from what I’ve been hearing” Riley responds.
The crowd gives a round of applause as Carnage rolls into the ring and he and rkade go nose to nose. Standing at the far side of the ring of the ring the referee signals for the bell. The two men lock eye as the crowd quiets. A sneer flashes across rkades’ face as he shoves Carnage back. The man in the mask immediately responds with a blistering knife-edge across the chest of rkade that knocks him back a few steps. The men exchange a series of wild punches, as rkade appears to get the initial advantage. As Carnage is driven back from rkades punches the fat man runs jumps on Carnage sending him to the mat. He fires a series of hard rights to his fallen opponents skull.
“It appears rkade is not intimidated by Carnage” Cyclone states as rkade continues to unload on his opponent. He quickly gets to his feet and adopts a three-point stance as Carnage struggles to get off the mat. As Carnage turns to face rkade the fat man charges him like a bull at a matador. Carnage deftly side steps the impact and counters the intended spear with a drop toe hold that sends rkade face first to the canvas. Carnage quickly fishhooks rkades right arm pinning it behind his back and drops a series of hard knees to his lower back.
“Fat man gets to eat the mat” Robert Riley quips. “At least he’s eating something!”
Rkade awkwardly rolls around in an effort to free himself from the arm lock. Carnage continues to abuse his opponents back as he drives knee after knee into rKades’ lower back. The crowd reacts excitedly as rkade finally manages to get to his feet. The excitement is short lived as Carnage slips behind his opponent and locks his waist. The crowd hushes as Carnage nails rKade with a release German suplex.
“Hey, pigs can fly!” Riley mocks as rKade goes sailing across the ring and lands awkwardly on his neck.
Carnage is quick to follow up the suplex as he charges at his fallen adversary. He pulls rKade to his feet but the fat man counters by grabbing Carnage by the head and nailing him with a jawbreaker. Carnage stumbles backward and rKade…recognizing the prime opportunity…fires a bone jarring spear at the masked man. The crowd cheers wildly as rKade pulls out a pair of imaginary handguns and fires several shots at his opponent. With Carnage flat on his back rKade dives into the air and nails him with his patented Death from above splat.
“Merciful Zeus what an impact!” Cyclone Comet squeals as rKade makes the cover.
ONE
TWO
THR…..No!
At the last second Carnage kicks out-- much to rKades’ dismay.
“rKades pretty agile…” Riley snips “…for such a fat slob!”
Rkade immediately pulls Carnage to his feet and wraps his massive left arm around his neck. He snaps off a painful neck breaker that once again introduces Carnage to the mat.
He fires a series of hard kicks to Carnages’ head before once again pulling him to his feet. Rkade points to the sky as he again swaps his huge arm around the masked opponents head.
“S.W. fuckin’ F” he screams as he nails Carnage with a DDT. The crowd cheers wildly as rkade wraps him up for the pin.
ONE
TWO
THRE…Nooo!
Again Carnage kicks out as rkade looks on in disbelief.
“Citizen rkade is dominating the match so far, but Carnage has yet to go down!” Cyclone explains as rkade once again pulls up Carnage. This time Carnage rewards his efforts with a hard knee to the abdomen. The impact doubles over his surprised opponent as Carnage quickly nails him with a powerful jumping DDT!
“That will take the starch out of him” Riley quips as rKade suffers the repercussions of the DDT. Carnage steps over the big man and mounts his back as he locks his gloved hands under his fallen opponents chin. The crowd recognizes the set up immediately as a look of fear flashes over rKades face…
CAMEL CLUTCH!!!
Carnage pulls back wildly on rKades chin as the fat mans face contorts in pain.
“It would appear the valiant effort by Citizen rKade was in vain”, Cyclone predicts as the referee asks rKade is he wants to quit.
“Just tell him there’s free pizza downstairs”, Riley snips as Carnage continues to crank out the punishment. Rkade reaches in desperation for the ropes as he can feel his lower back throb in pain from the pressure. He ignores the pain as he struggles to reach the ropes. The crowd begins to get behind the fat man as he gets closer to the bottom rope. He reaches his hand out to grasp it but Carnage abandons the Camel clutch and contents himself with a knee drop to the back of rKades' skull. The crowd responds to Carnages’ cheap shot as rKade rolls out of the ring.
FREEEEAK
FREEEEAK
FREEEEAK!!!
Carnage appears upset at the chant as he puts his hands to his ears as if trying to block out the screams. RKade notices the distraction and carefully climbs to the ring apron. He drops his right hand to his lower back as the pain stabs deeply into his body. After the split second of distraction he turns his eyes to Carnage and immediately eats a big boot to the face. The impact sends him crashing from the ring apron to the guardrails below.
“What an impact”, exclaims Cyclone Comet.
“Uncoordinated slob” barks Robert Riley.
Carnage gracefully slides under the bottom rope and heads straight for the dazed rKade. He grabs the right arm of his opponent and twists it into a painful arm wrench. As rKade tries to escape the hold Carnage fires several well-aimed toe kicks to rKades ribcage. This appears to soften the fat man up. Carnage sends rKade head first into the steel guardrails as the crowd reacts to his every move.
Inside the ring the referee has already started his count.
ONE
TWO
Carnage savagely stomps at the head and neck area of his fallen adversary.
THREE
As Carnage continues to unload on rKade the fat man fires a quick low blow the mad masked man. The shot escaped the notice of the official, which was fortunate for rKade and very unfortunate for Carnage who falls to his knees in pain.
FOUR
“Citizen rKade will have to move a little faster of he wants to avoid the count out”
Cyclone Comet states.
FIVE
The crowd begins to chant as Combat Toyoda screams at him to get up and continue fighting.
SIX
RKade struggles to his feet just as Carnage rises back to his. The two men immediately exchange blows as the referee continues his count.
SEVEN
“I don’t think either man will be able to beat the count”, Robert Reilly observes as the referee continues
EIGHT
Carnage fires a blistering knife-edge to rKade that sends the fat man to the Staples Center floor. He quickly dives under the bottom rope as rKade forces himself back to his feet
NINE
A split second before the ten-count rKade dives under the bottom rope. Carnage reacts in surprise but does not hesitate to continue the assault on his corpulent opponent.
“A little speed by the fat man”, Reilly mocks as Carnage fires another boot to rKades’ lower back. “Who would have thunk it?”
Carnage pulls rKane to his feet as he locks his left arm around his opponent’s head. He reaches down with his right arm and grabs rKanes' sweaty black tights. The crowd hushes as they recognize the set up
BRAIN BUSTER
Carnage effortlessly hoists the 350 pounder into the air and positions him vertically as the crowd is shocked into silence. The masked man sends him crashing to the mat, making the whole ring shakes from the impact. He quickly wraps him up for the pin.
ONE
TWO
THRE….Noooo!
Miraculously rKade raises a shoulder to avoid the certain pin fall.
“Holy Mackerel” Cyclone Comet blurts as Carnage seems shocked that rKade was able to avoid the pin. The masked man again goes to pull up his opponent but this time he is met by another well-hidden low blow by the tenacious rKade. Carnage is rocked by the low blow and as he falls to his knee’s while the audience begins to cheer his adversary.
R---KADE
R---KADE
R----KADDDDE!!
“The crowd is really getting behind rKade”, Cyclone understates as the hirsute fat man staggers to his knees’ and fires a hard right to Carnages jaw. The masked man falls back to the mat as now rKade stomps away at his opponent.
“It does appear the tide is turning”, Reilly acknowledges. “But never count out a crazy man like Carnage”
As Carnage lies on the mat rKade fires a baseball slide to his opponents head that connects with a loud thud. He grabs Carnage and pulls him to his feet only to send him crashing back to the mat with a brutal belly-to-belly suplex. He hooks the leg and goes for a pin
ONE
TWO
Carnage bridges out as rKade wastes no time in continuing his offense. He again pulls Carnage up only to nail with with a jumping Spine buster. The impact has Carnage doubled over in pain, which provides the perfect opportunity for rKade to drop him with a vicious clothesline. As Carnage crashes to the mat a smirk comes over rKades’ face as he points to the sky.
“What’s he doing now?” Quizzes Robert Reilly.
“I think Citizen rKade has conceived an idea” Cyclone replies.
“I think he’s spotted the pop corn man in the stands”
The crowd cheers as rKade climbs to the top turnbuckle. A wide smile flashes over his face as he goes for his patented Moonsault…
THE FATMAN!!
The Fat man is disappointed as Carnage rolls out of the way leaving rKade to once again taste the mat.
“Crash and burn” blurts Reilly is disgust.
Carnage and rKade both struggle to their feet as the crowd cheers them on. The crowd is on its feet and both men are visibly weakened. They approach each other in the center of the ring as rkade fires a wild kick at the head of carnage. The planned Dragonslayer misses its mark as Carnage avoids the impact. A look of surprise flashes over rkades face as Carnage grabs him by the throat. He lifts him high into the air as the crowd roars
CRASH
Carnage slams rkade to the mat with a thunderous Choke Slam. The fat man quivers on the mat from the impact as Carnage grabs him by the skull and pulls him to his feet. The crowds’ cheers turn into awe as Carnage pulls up and inverts the 350 pounder. He locks his knees’ on rkades skull and sends him crashing to the mat.
TOMBSTONE PILE DRIVER!
“Merciful Zeus”, exclaims Cyclone Comet.
“Stick a fork in him…he’s done” replies Robert Reilly dismissively.
The audience quiets as Carnage folds rkades hands across his chest; his unconscious opponent lies motionless on the mat. The referee quickly leaps in to make the count
ONE
TWO
THREE!!!
Ding Ding Ding!
As the crowd applauds Carnage slowly rises from the mat. The referee raises Carnage’s hand in the air as Funyon steps into the ring.
“An impressive beginning for both these athletes here tonight” Cyclone Comet states as Funyon takes to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen the time of the match 19 minutes and 4 seconds. The winner via pinfall… Carnaaage!!!”
SWF Smarkdown!
in Smarks Wrestling Federation
Posted · Report reply
The match commences
Manson kills everyone
Yet Fury still wins