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Posts posted by the.weej

  1. SWF Storm fades back onto televisions worldwide to the huge throng of screaming masses packed into Tiger Stadium. The camera pivots around to peruse the eclectic mix of people, seeming to hail from anywhere and every...


    Wow! Did you see the bozooms on that one?!? Check that... Zoom in on...


    Oh... Yeah, right!


    Sea of humanity, lots and lots of signs, blah blah blah, gals with huge...


    ...Heaps of love for the now-in-view Suicide King and special guest ANNIE ECLECTIC! Yeah, that’s it... Annie starts to speak, but...


    “No time for intros and all that fancy crap,” King screams, completely plowing through whatever Annie was going to say, “It’s time for action! Let’s hear that lovely ring bell action!”




    Ding ding DING!


    As the bell rings, I hear the crowd ignite behind me. The two men that I’d been observing in the ring with me seem to have momentarily gotten together in a common goal.


    Unfortunately, that common goal seems to be outing me from immediate competition.


    The one known as Stryke, I can already tell, is lightning quick, and on me before I have a chance to breathe. Meanwhile, Jimmy The Doom seems to be stalking the outer periphery, looking for an opening. Advancing in, Stryke throws a swift right forearm... I catch it, twisting his arm around using his momentum, and...




    ...briefly put him to the mat, much to the dismay of the fans in attendance. To my semi-surprise, he kips up, reversing the twist, and managing to add one of his own. I slap my arm as I feel a bit of a searing in it, trying to reverse it myself... But...


    Suddenly Jimmy lets his presence be known as he levels the concentrating Stryke with a clothesline. The crowd shows their displeasure as Stryke stumbles to the mat, yanking me off-balance with him... And Jimmy takes advantage by introducing my head to his knee as I’m trying to regain my balance. My arm released, I find myself stumbling back a slight bit as Jimmy presses his offense... Grabbing me by the arm, slinging me into the ropes. He catches me on the rebound, trying to toss me... But I manage to get my weight down to a solid base, and reverse the favor...




    ...putting him on his back. A minor response from the crowd ensues.


    Gee, thanks.


    Before I can take advantage, though, a set of arms wraps around my waist... Stryke.


    The little bugger’s damn quick.


    I feel him trying to power me up, but my base is still solid... His arms are cinched in... I lean back to try to use my arms to try to break him off of me... But apparently that’s what he was waiting as he manages to get me out of my solid base, and hauls...








    The crowd response is fiery as he keeps his hold cinched in on my waist... The scurry of the ref...


    ONE! The ref’s hand hits the canvas with a slap... But the second never comes... As I’m rolling my shoulders to break away, the bridge suddenly collapses. I roll slightly to see Jimmy trying to put a boot down where the rolling Stryke’s rib cage was. That explains the break in the hold as Stryke comes to his feet, rubbing his side. I make it to my feet as well as Jimmy and Stryke lock up in a test of strength... It looks damn even for a second or two until Jimmy manages to free an arm, getting Stryke off-balance again, and throwing a loaded elbow smash to Stryke’s temple.


    My turn now, bitches.


    I charge in to impose my will on the unaware Jimmy... Only to find that he’s not-so-unaware.


    But I’m already committed, so I lower the shoulder, plant for a little more speed, and hope for the best...




    ...and I get it as I manage to mostly catch Jimmy and put him to the mat. I stop my momentum and recover myself only to hear the crowd pick up in its exuberance...


    The slap of a hand on the canvas...


    I look back to find Stryke trying to take advantage of -my- work as he’s got Jimmy’s leg hooked. I move in, but Jimmy kicks out quickly enough, leaving Stryke rolling away.


    This will not do at all.


    I rumble over to where Stryke is regaining his feet, help him to his feet...


    Only to plant him back down to the mat with a heavy short-line clothesline.


    And boy the fans don’t like that.


    Oh well.


    I lift him back up and sling him towards the ropes...


    I give a little spin, and throw a kick towards the oncoming Stryke’s head...


    The fans raise a hellacious cheer...


    As Stryke slides right underneath my outstretched leg! I let the momentum keep me spinning to try to catch him on the other side, but...


    Jimmy stops my motion with a quick grab of the arm, then reverses it, spinning me back around... My mind’s swimming a little, but I can feel him grabbing my head... The fog clears as I feel myself dropping...




    ...to the mat, a shock of pain shooting through my neck. Not at all pleasant, and the crowd voices my feelings on the whole matter. Jimmy comes to hook the leg...


    ONE! But barely that as Stryke makes Jimmy suffer a bout of Pinnus Interruptus with a dropped fist to the back of the head. I roll away as Jimmy stands, holding the back of his head...


    And the crowd rises up once more as Stryke lands a smooth-looking front dropkick to the unbalanced Jimmy’s chest...




    ...felling him to the mat. And Stryke follows that quick and dirty move with yet another kip-up!


    Okay, that’s just disgusting, you know?


    Finally to my own feet, Stryke approaches me with a forearm to the chest, driving me back towards the corner. I try to recover, but my wheels are still a little tingly from that Jimmy neckbreaker. Stryke throws another forearm into me...


    And another...


    And yet another!


    And the crowd is eating this up like it was Pixie Sticks.


    Or Frost-Brand Whale Tacos.


    As it is, Stryke has managed to plant me in the corner with continued forearms, and frankly... My chest is starting to hurt. It’s a little hard to get a full breath with as quick as he’s hitting these shots.


    Suddenly, he stops. I watch as he grabs the top ropes on either side of me, lifting himself up...


    This could be all sorts of bad.


    I force myself up and out of the corner, and he releases off the ropes, seeing his move will be countered...


    But I’m already on him, lacing a quick kick to his mid-section while he’s off balance. He falls flat back to the mat, and I advance in.


    I realize that I have to get back to my usual game plan, or this guy’s speed will be my undoing. As he rolls to find his feet, I reach down, grabbing Stryke’s foot in a quick ankle lock. Then scissoring his leg, I drop to the mat hard. I’m rewarded with a loud grunt of pain and a whole arena of people giving me no end of anti-love. I’m very concentrated on this task of slowing this speedster down as I wrench the ankle a little more...


    Suddenly I’m told how totally concentrated I am at a meeting of Jimmy’s thigh with the side of my head at a speed that could only be created from a second rope drop. My world goes quite whirly and bubbly as my body releases the hold on Stryke’s leg, having received some sort of scrambled instruction from an addled brain to do so...


    And suddenly, I remember why I hated wrestling triple threats so much...




    The crowd exhales in relief as Fury’s hold on Stryke’s ankle is released... They never thought they’d be thanking Jimmy The Doom for anything, but here they are. The aforementioned Jimmy hauls the aforementioned Fury up by the hair. He slings Fury into the corner, and follows suit as Stryke clamors to his feet.


    “Looks like Fury might have had the right idea there,” muses Eclectic as Stryke tries to walk off a small limp... Could be a stinger, could be damage... We can’t tell right now.


    “All Fury did is forget about the major player in this match,” King responds. And indeed, Jimmy is unloading cornered elbow shots. The crowd could care less about all that it seems as their murmured concerns are for the current Cruiserweight Champion. The minor limp he has is still there as he approaches Jimmy, backing off from Fury in the corner. The crowd’s sudden cheering looks to put Jimmy on edge as he turns, meeting a smiling Stryke...


    And with a swiftness that seems to belie description, Stryke takes the fellow cruiserweight up in a scoop slam...


    Then doing a graceful spin, sets Jimmy up for a sit-out piledriver...




    The crowd goes B-A-N-A-N-A-S! (Because, after all, this shit -is- bananas...)


    “Holy Hell-In-A-Handbasket!” Eclectic burbles. “Stryke with the Aero Driver!”


    “It’s not enough, too soon, Annie!”


    “We’ll see about that, King!” As Stryke hooks Jimmy’s legs...




    TWO!! But indeed, Jimmy powers the shoulder out after the second count. Stryke doesn’t seem to mind as the crowd continues to pump him up. He hauls Jimmy up, and launches him into the corner...




    The same corner that just happened to contain the formerly-recovering Fury! The crowd applauds Stryke’s ingenuity and resourcefulness as he advances into the corner... But still with that light limp.


    “Stryke just killed two bir...”


    “Don’t... Even say it, Annie... You’re just as bad as Pete if you do...”


    Stryke rushes into the corner, again grabbing the top ropes, much faster this time, trying to pull off his elevated basement dropkick, this time successfully...


    However, the result is actually worse this time as Jimmy launches out of the corner, catching the helpless Stryke in ‘mid-air’! Both tumble in a heap...




    ...to the mat as we find...


    “Fury broke up the attack blindly!” Eclectic shouts as Fury slowly comes out of the corner... But suddenly...




    TW... And we find that in their tangled mess, Jimmy managed to get Stryke’s shoulders to the mat... But no more as Stryke pushes Jimmy to the side.


    “And Fury almost gave Jimmy the means to win,” King retorts. “First thing he’s done almost right all match.” Jimmy is to his feet, Stryke shortly behind, but Fury advances on the closer of the two... Suddenly the somewhat unawares Stryke is the victim of a quick and hard Russian legsweep! The crowd is all over Fury as he presses onward, leaving Stryke momentarily to take care of the advancing Jimmy...




    ...who levels a shot against Fury’s chest, stopping him short... But he doesn’t stop his mind set as...




    ...Fury gives one right back!




    Jimmy takes exception...




    ...but Fury says, “You’ll take it, and like it!”... Just not in words...




    ...and Jimmy says, “Fuck off, yo!”...


    SLAP!!! WHAM!!!


    ...and Jimmy then ends the conversation with a tilde-bang in the form of a follow-up clothesline off of Fury’s chop. The crowd isn’t liking this at all...


    “King, wake up!”


    “Oh... Uh... Wha? Are they done slapping at each other, the pansies?” Jimmy drops down, leveling stiff gut punches to the prone Fury, allowing him no quarter at all... But suddenly... The crowd erupts as The Nearly Forgotten Stryke pulls Jimmy off Fury with a spin... Slaps on the facelock...








    The crowds has baby monkeys as Stryke completes the...


    “Snap Brain-BUSTAAA...” Eclectic tries to call...


    “IIIII can’t believe you’d do that, Annie!” King follows right on his heels, as Stryke comes around to a good spot and hooks the leg.


    “Do what?”




    “Pull that Long-DOGGAAAAAH shit.”




    “You mean... Like you just did?” The ref shows Stryke a two-count as Jimmy runs the shoulder up.


    “...Ah, crap.” King’s realization comes on the heels of Stryke’s slow climb to the top turnbuckle. The crowd urges him on as he looks over the ring... He sees the more-or-less prone form of Jimmy... But he sees a more distinct threat.


    That of the risen and approaching Chris Fury. Stryke makes a split-second decision, once again throwing caution to the wind...


    After all, why save up for tomorrow what you can today...


    Especially when you don’t know how many tomorrows you have left.


    But just as he jumps, he sees something that makes him think that his day might get real good, real quick...




    The crowd is off the charts as Stryke’s missile dropkick manages to knockdown both Fury -and- the poor soul known as Jimmy, who had stood up and tried to engage on the offensive against Fury, unawares that a Missile Stryke was incoming on his 6 o’clock! All three men wind up in a pile in the middle of the ring, tangled heap, all that...


    “Again Stryke manages to bring both of his opponents down!” Eclectic gushes.


    “Yippie,” is the best response King can muster up as Stryke rises slowly to his feet to the joy of the crowd... His legs look a little wobbly, probably due to the fact he was dealt the impact of -two- human bodies under his feet. Jimmy took the brunt of the punishment from initial impact, as he’s lying on the ground, holding his head in his hands and not much else... But then we see Fury slowly rising from ground level, seeing Jimmy and probably realizing how lucky he really was...




    Wow... I was -extremely- lucky.


    I saw Stryke climbing, and I knew that I was in big trouble...


    But Jimmy The Doom, bless his heart, tried to beat my ass right in the nick of time! I am a little rattled, don’t get me wrong... But I’m nowhere near in the head-ringing shape that Jimmy is.


    But I have to take advantage...


    Or not, as Stryke decides to back me off (and collapse my chest at the same time) with another of his front dropkicks, complete with the kip-up...


    But as I’m falling back to the mat, I notice he’s still limping... Ginger on that ankle I had before...




    Suddenly it dawns on me what I really needed to do to take this guy out. Something I remembered seeing in tapes. But I have to do it decisively and quick, or Jimmy would be in the way once again.


    Of course, being flat on my back and having Stryke hovering over me was all part of the plan.




    He hauls me to my feet, then slings me into the ropes... I rebound, and he tries to grab me... I recognize what he’s trying to do... Tilt-a-whirl into... Something... Don’t really care... I let him work me into the start of the ‘whirl, then throw my weight away from him with a little twist. His grip is bothered, and he can’t complete the move as I fall out of his grasp...


    ...Managing to land on my feet, albeit unsteadily. Stryke looks quite surprised at this turn of events, and that’s just what I want. I grab him by the arm, and pull him hard into my free arm, laying him out...




    ...with a short-arm clothesline. Ignoring the boos and jeers of the crowd, I’m back on him, flipping him over hurriedly... Bending his legs at the knees, crossing them, my foot in the middle... Facing away, standing... I can hear the crowd... They know what’s coming.


    I wonder if Stryke does.


    I flip back suddenly, locking my arms around his chin, and pull. Hard.


    By the pained groans from Stryke and the fans, I’ve done my homework right. I arch myself a little further, working Stryke’s upper body back more, putting that pressure on the neck... But more importantly, the back that I knew was injured...


    This move is perfect for this purpose, and I cinch it in a little harder...


    But once again...




    ...Jimmy The Doom comes falling out of the sky to ruin my best-laid plans. This time, though, I have no defense in my positioning as he slams into me with a freaking Hurricanrana! The pain that shoots though me is intense, the air rushing out.


    But I’m sure Stryke, being under both of us, faired a lot worse. Jimmy is slow to get up, but he finally does, and I’m still sucking wind as I roll off Stryke... I’m wondering where the next attack is coming from when...


    ONE! The slap of the ref’s hand brings me back to some semblance of reality as I roll back...


    TWO!! I see Jimmy trying to grab the win, so I reach out and grab him, pulling with all my might...


    And it does break the count.


    Jimmy isn’t happy.


    The fans are though.


    I try and get to all fours, working towards getting my feet about me, but Jimmy has other ideas as he gives me a swift kick to my side.


    Well, that ended the getting-up idea.




    Apparently satisfied with the beatdown he’s given Fury, Jimmy reaches down and drags the hurting Stryke to his feet, and launches him into the corner. Stryke impacts...




    ...the turnbuckles with massive force, and just sags there. The crowd novas, raining radioactive heat down on Jimmy.


    “Jimmy The Doom taking control!” King croons. “He’s taken Fury out of the picture, and now he’s looking to finish Stryke for the match!”


    “Stryke, King.”


    “Shove it, Eclectic.” Jimmy The Doom, quite pleased with himself, kicks Fury again as he gets up, seemingly waiting for something... He kicks Fury, then eyes the corner where Stryke is... Kicks Fury, looks in the corner... Kicks Fury, then...


    Stryke is moving... The fans explode with delight.


    Jimmy grins. Apparently the opportunity he was waiting for is at hand as Stryke stumbles slowly from the corner... Jimmy stalks him, keeping clear of Stryke’s view... Then...


    Jimmy taps him on the shoulder.


    The crowd is none-too-thrilled.


    “Here it comes!” King cries. Stryke stops, and starts to turn... But Jimmy helps him the rest of the way, following up with a completely explosive clothesline!




    Stryke hits the mat like a load of dead parrots as Jimmy The Doom styles for the booing, hissing fans.


    “Jimmy just blasted him!” King gushes. “This one is over! OVAH! Ugh...”


    “Not quite, King!” The reasoning behind this statement isn’t clear... But the crowd senses... Sees something. Something that brings their reactions around... Jimmy seems to read the crowd, and starts to turn to see what is going on...




    “HOLY WHAT THE...???” Even the crowd gasps in awed amazement...


    Out of nowhere comes a Mack Truck, blowing right into Jimmy! But it’s name is not Mack... It’s Chris Fury, and he just went Hell-Bent and full-bore into Jimmy with a desperation Spear! Jimmy flails back...




    ...hitting the mat extremely hard before tumbling between the bottom and middle ropes to...




    ...unceremoniously impact the floor below... He finally comes to rest against the steel crowd barricade.


    “UNBELIEVABLE!” screams Eclectic. “Fury from out of NOWHERE with that Spear, but Fury took one Hell of a shock it seems!”


    “Nooooo!” laments King. Jimmy The Doom lies motionless on the outside of the ring, completely out of commission from his meeting with the floor. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Fury still hasn’t gotten up from a completely massive impact... The Spear seems to have done as much damage to him as it did to Jimmy. Suddenly, the crowd goes all Mount Saint Helens.


    “All he needed was time, King!”


    “NOOOOO!” King’s reason for panic is clear: Stryke is finally standing! He looks absolutely groggy from the Jimmy Takedown he suffered moments earlier, but he’s standing!


    “He should’ve been done... Or dead... Or both!” King cries in anguish. But Stryke is none of those... That’s why he’s who he is. And he’s on the offensive... He hauls Fury up by the hair, getting him standing... Then pauses as the fans chant and cheer his name...


    “What’s he doing?” Eclectic muses.


    “Continuing to be a fool!” Sensing the finish at hand, and maybe without full mental facilities in place, Stryke puts a plan in motion... He quickly springboards onto the ropes, facing the crowd, and twists through the air like... Something... Really graceful...


    “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” Eclectic calls to the home crowd... Stryke, determined to keep his match alive, and to give the fans the best he’s got, is trying to hit the Blitzkrieg Spike... But there’s just one very small, yet very potent problem...


    And the fans deflate before it even happens, because they see it... Fury, somehow with some sort of wits about him, throws a hard, stiff forearm into the flyer’s mid-section. It’s not too terribly effective against a falling human being, but it’s just enough to screw Stryke’s momentum and trajectory. Stryke plows uncontrolled into Fury, sending both men...




    ...hard to the mat.


    “MY GOD!” Eclectic belts out. “A simple but devastating defense from Fury spoils Stryke’s flight into victory!”


    “Ha HAH!” King gloats, somewhat. “Risk takers never win!” Both men are stunned and not doing much besides rolling faintly in their spots... Meanwhile, the crowd sees something that drops their enthusiasm by several notches.


    “And all that was needed was time!” King mercilessly mimics Eclectic as...


    Jimmy The Doom is finally rising to his feet outside. He looks completely out of sorts, but somehow slowly works his way under the ropes.


    “This could be horridly bad for Stryke and Fury,” Eclectic says in a hushed tone.


    “No no no,” King says with an audible grin. “This is PERFECT. The road is clear for Jimmy!” Jimmy slowly stands against the ring ropes, and sees both men down. He could so easily pin one of them. So easily.


    But he wants more than that... He wants to deal with the reason he’s so groggily wandering around, when he should be standing tall and proud.


    And that reason is now at his feet.




    He hauls Fury to his feet, wrenching his arm around, getting him to his right side...


    He’s looking for the big finish here...


    “Go, Jimmy, go!” King calls out as Jimmy’s only fan in the place as he lets go of Fury’s arm, and lances back with his arms to lock around Fury’s head to start the flashy and powerful... Wait...


    But Fury’s not there... At least his head’s not. Instead, Jimmy find his arm grabs, and his world spinning... Only half-spun though as Fury stops him with a kick to the solar plexus. Jimmy finds himself doubled over and at the mercy of Fury as he’s wrapped in a fancy-looking headlock, Jimmy’s chin precariously over Fury’s shoulder... Fury drops to a knee, rocking Jimmy’s head as his jaw impacts hard, unforgiving shoulder... But the fun’s not over as the headlock’s still cinched... Fury stands, then takes two quick steps to the side before sitting out...




    ...and completely knocking reality loose from Jimmy as his head re-impacts Fury’s shoulder, and he drops back limply to the mat.


    “HOLY SHIT!” Eclectic blurts. “The Lightning And Thunder has returned, in a new and devastating form!”


    “Damnit no!” King shouts right after. The crowd...


    The crowd is going wild... To see Jimmy go down like a house of bricks pleases them to no end... But there’s something else...


    Stryke... He’s starting to come back to earth... Fury sees this, the adrenaline finally flowing... He hauls Stryke up...


    And doubles him over with a lick to the mid-section! The fans go completely 180.


    “Fury’s going to get this!” Eclectic rails over the crowd, her emotions tossed... Fury plants Stryke with the mini-Stunner, then the two quick steps, and the sit-out Stunner...




    ...and Stryke’s momentum is evaporated... The crowd is livid and screaming for their boy to make a comeback as Fury hooks the leg...




    The fans raise in volume, trying to will their boy on...




    The fans come out of their seats, pleading to the wrestling deities to bring them a miracle! The ref’s hand swings down one more time...












    Ladies and gentlemen, your Gods have abandoned you.


    Ding ding DING!


    Funyon gets on his mic...


    “Ladies and gentlemen... The winner of the match... Christian... FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!” The crowd rains Hell down upon him, but Fury pays it no mind, a smile on his weary lips.


    “No!” King shouts. “He stole it from Jimmy! He’s nowhere in the same league as Doom!”


    “No, King,” Eclectic says with the barest hint of respect. “Fury did what he needed to. And he proved something in the process. We’ll be back, folks.”


    The show fades to commercial with the camera square on Fury’s victorious smile...

  2. Joseph Peters is seated in his office, mulling over his paperwork when we hear a door slam open and an angry voice yell, “Peters, I demand Justice!”


    Peters: “Come in, I’m not busy at all.”


    After a brief pause, we see a figure enter the picture, and the crowd immediately boos at the sight of Jay Hawke staring down Peters. Hawke, despite the stylish blue pinstripe suit he’s sporting tonight, still looks somewhat naked without the International Championship belt around his waist.


    Peters: “Jay. Just the man I wanted to see.”


    Hawke: “Can it, Peters. I want you to explain to me why I came all the way to Louisiana to regain the International Championship belt, only to find out that the so-called champion isn’t even here tonight.”


    Peters: “Wildchild had some family issues to attend to, and the championship committee felt it was more important to take care of that than for a title match tonight.”


    Hawke: “Really? Well, allow me to treat to a little wrestling history lesson. See, I seem to remember that back in the days that Ray Stevens was United States Champion in the old San Francisco NWA territory, a clause was put into every standard title match contract stating that if the champion refused to show up for a scheduled defense, he would forfeit the championship to his opponent. As I recall, you’re the one who told me the rematch would be tonight, so take some promo time and hype it because we want the ratings. Now, that so-called champion might have decided to take a night off and pad the length of his title reign, but I’m here as scheduled, and I want the title belt awarded to me right now!”


    Joseph Peters hasn’t even budged from his comfortable chair as he continues to stare at Hawke, waiting for the Dean of Professional Wrestling to finish his rant. Convinced he’s finished, he finally gives his answer:








    A cheer from the crowd in the stadium is heard as Hawke looks like he’s ready to jump over the desk and murder Joseph Peters on the spot.


    Peters: “In fact, it’s been decided that you’re not getting your rematch for the International Championship at all.”


    Another cheer from the live crowd is heard, but as for Hawke…


    Hawke: “This is ridiculous, Peters! What the hell do you think the rematch clause is the contracts for, our health? Why, if you weren’t my boss, I’d reach across this table and--”


    Peters: “You’re moving up.”


    Hawke: “--wrap my hands around your neck and…



    …what did you say?”


    Peters: “You’re moving up. See, the championship committee decided that while you are certainly entitled to a rematch with Wildchild, and while we’re sure the ratings for the said rematch would be through the roof, we simply have to reward you for a record-breaking title reign. So you are to be at Lockdown next week, and you will face Wes Davenport for the World Heavyweight Championship.”


    The live crowd watching on the Smarktron gives a mixed reaction as Hawke nods.


    Hawke: “World Title?”


    Peters: “World Title.”


    Hawke: “No catch.”


    Peters: “No catch. You’ve earned it, Jay.”


    Hawke: “Mr. Peters, you’ve got yourself a deal. But when I win the championship next week, it will be a long time before anybody removes me from my throne.”


    Jay Hawke turns and leaves the office, and Peters shakes his head.


    Peters: “Just once I want someone to hear me out before I get screamed at.”

  3. #DESTROY#


    And on that note, SWF Storm opens up to the bumping G-funk of (hed) PE’s “Suck It Up”, the crowd cheering as a leather-jacketed, long-haired form comes striding through the curtain, a black-gloved fist raised in the air.


    “Ladies and gentlemen, THIS! IS! STORM!” begins trial announcer Annie Eclectic. “For those who don’t know, I’m Annie Eclectic, former Junior League announcer, Hardcore Queen-“


    “-and esteemed punching bag of Danny Williams,” the Gambling Man chimes in.


    Annie sighs. “And, of course, joining me as always is the Suicide King. Now, what we’ve got as an opener for you folks tonight is a very interesting matchup, as we pit former Tag Team Champion and USJL Champion David Cross against the longest-reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time and former #1 Contender to the World Heavyweight Championship, JJ Johnson.”


    “I’m not sure why you think this match is interesting,” muses King, “both of the competitors are men.”


    Annie sighs again as Funyon brings the microphone up to his mouth and booms “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, from Oil City, Pennsylvania, now residing in Salem, Oregon, weighing in at 269 pounds…DAVID! CROSS!”


    Cross continues his saunter down the aisle, slapping a few hands before rolling into the ring and springing to his feet, where he raises his arm once more before settling into the shoulder-rolling, neck-popping and tall-being that is his pre-match ritual…as the lights drop out.




    The sliding riffage that begins Mastodon’s “Blood and Thunder” begins sounding out over Tiger Stadium, the 100,000+ crowd’s mood shifting quite quickly (as wrestling crowds are wont to do) as the lights begins lowly shifting from red-and-white. One drum lead-in later, though, the song is not going as slowly, the lights are not going as slowly, and smoke is rocketing out of the entranceway as a shape becomes apparent striding through…and becomes obvious as it emerges, JJ Johnson breaking the plane of the smog to a great deal of disappointment – for lack of a better term – from the crowd.


    I think that someone is trying to kill me

    Infecting my blood and destroying my mind

    No man of the flesh could ever stop me

    Your fight for this fish is a fight to the death


    “And his opponent!” shouts Funyon over the now-raucous crowd, “from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, weighing 223 pounds…J! J! JOHNSON!”


    As Johnson makes the way down the ramp, his jacket slightly tinted in the flashing arena lighting and the rapidly fading natural lighting to form a conglomeration that is very odd indeed. Regardless, Johnson’s pace is slow and methodical as he makes it to the thin pads before jogging rapidly up the steps and stepping through into the ring.


    What remorseless emperor commands me

    I no longer govern my soul


    And from there, it’s business as usual, up to the second rope, at which point he throws his arms wide in what has become his signature pose as the second verse finishes up, glaring quite angrily at the masses almost stacked up by the ring.


    I am completely immersed in darkness

    As I turn my body away from the sun


    And with that, Johnson hops down, stripping off his jacket and tossing it to Gus on the outside…




    …and gets bum-rushed by David Cross, who wastes no time charging across the ring and piling himself into Johnson in the corner as referee Blaine Kalem is forced to ring the bell!




    “And Cross is wasting no time taking the initiative in this match,” notes Annie E as Johnson stumbles out of the corner, more than a little of the breath knocked out of him by Cross’ near-270 pound mass, “which is probably a good idea considering who he’s facing.”


    “Definitely a good idea,” agrees King, “Cross wasn’t around when Johnson showed up, so he has no idea what Johnson can do; I think it’s pretty smart that he doesn’t want to find out.”


    Cross has all the time in the world to take advantage of his punishing match-opener, but instead he gets right to work, sprinting off the ropes and coming back with his always-devastating Yakuza Kick!


    …That misses! Johnson was dazed, but he had long since recovered and was merely playing possum by the time Cross got around to throwing his kick, and he proves this by rolling right under the punishing blow! Cross’ momentum means he can’t exactly stop and adjust to the situation, which means Johnson is free to throw an elbow!




    Cross’ head snaps back, but it whips back into place alarmingly fast, prompting Johnson to blast him with another!




    The Fallen Angel is not as quick to recover after the second thunderous blow, but he’s certainly not out on his feet, and he once more brings his head back to stare down at the far smaller man…who, deciding he needs bigger guns, plants his foot before whipping the other one around with a brutal roundhouse kick!


    …That’s blocked, David using his massive strength to slow the momentum of the boot to almost nil! Unfortunately for Johnson, he doesn’t let go, instead choosing to hold the leg up and spin on the spot, cracking the Canadian in the back of a head with a modified-short arm enzui lariat!


    …That misses, Johnson being just flexible enough to tuck his head under the blow! The arm goes sailing overhead and Johnson, sans the leg that Cross is still holding, leaps with his plant leg and blasts Cross with a good ol’ fashioned kick to the head!




    Cross is more than dazed as the blow connects with the precision and force expected of an Ultimate Fighter, but as opposed to simply releasing the leg he’s got, Cross bends down and scoops the OTHER leg up onto his shoulder, placing Johnson in perfect position for a powerbomb!


    “Amazing!” says Annie. “It’s like Cross didn’t even feel that kick!”


    “Cross is a tough guy,” admits King, “but Johnson can take him down.”


    It looks like that’s going to wait; powerbombs are not easily recovered from. However, they ARE easily reversed, and Johnson proves this by driving a quick fist into Cross’ forehead, dazing the powerful man just enough to twist around on David’s shoulders and, in a move Johnson doesn’t exactly use, roll forward and stack Cross on his shoulders with a Victory Roll!




    T-Cross kicks out powerfully, no matter how off-guard that pin may have caught him, and he’s up to his feet and turning just in time to be on the receiving end of a powerful JJ Johnson rolling elbow!


    …That’s blocked; much like Johnson’s roundhouse, Cross is simply too strong for the strike to make it through his powerful hands, and Cross takes a brief moment to chuckle…and in that moment, Johnson turns on his axis in the other direction, slamming his elbow into Cross’ jaw with a screaming elbow!




    The Fallen Angel doesn’t quite stagger; it’s more of a quake. Still, it’s enough for the ever-persistent Johnson to spin the OTHER direction and get that rolling elbow he was looking for!




    NOW the Oregonian stumbles, and Johnson buries his boot into the stomach of the former Oil City native, which doubles him over sufficiently as he pulls the Fallen Angel into a standing headscissors!


    “Looks like Johnson is going for a powerbomb of his own!” shouts Annie as the Canadian doubles over as well, wrapping his arms around the thick waist of his opponent. “But the question is, can he get the considerably larger Cross up?”


    “I’m confident he can,” says King. “After all, Johnson may not be extremely strong, but he’s extremely powerful – yes, there’s a difference, as power has to do with how explosive your strength is.”


    Taking a deep breath, Johnson bends his knees and ducks as low as he can before lifting!


    But alas, while the Canadian may be strong enough to get Cross into the air, he’s certainly not going to achieve such a feat with David as fresh as he is, and the Pennsylvania native spreads his base, increasing his inertia to the point that the Ultimate Fighter, despite his straining, is simply not able to get the Fallen Angel off the mat – a fact Cross takes advantage of by exploding upwards, shifting Johnson over to his shoulder, and whiplashing him back down into a thunderous spinebuster!






    “Spinebuster!” shouts Annie. “A cliché counter to be sure, but it’s cliché because it’s so damn effective!”


    “Not this early, it isn’t,” scoffs King derisively (as opposed to all of those other methods of scoffing) as Cross dives over Johnson’s body and hooks a leg, Kalem sliding in to count another pin!




    TW-King is right again, the Canadian rocketing his shoulder off of the mat! Impatient to get the difficult-to-move Cross off of him, Johnson bounces a few fists off of his skull, causing the Fallen Angel to recoil back to his knees and grab at the afflicted area as Johnson springs to his feet before charging off of the ropes and, on the bounce back, leaping into the air and tucking his feet behind him!


    “Busaiku knee kick!” shouts King.


    But it’s not to be, as Cross is quick enough to vacate the area where his jaw formerly was as Johnson’s knees go rocketing by, the Canadian fortunate enough to be able to extend his feet and arms and plant himself on the second rope as the Pennsylvanian-turned-Oregonian scrambles to his feet, ready to take advantage of Johnson’s disorientation!




    Of which there is apparently none, as the Ultimate Fighter is more than happy to bury an elbow into the skull of David when he draws too close. For good measure, Johnson follows up with two more, then tucks a leg in the crook of David’s near arm before using his other foot to propel himself off of his unsteady perch, twisting through the air as he looks for a flying La Majistral! Unfortunately, his shove was not enough to get him the sufficient momentum, and Cross merely catches him before rocketing back and pulverizing Johnson with a Samoan Drop!




    “And again, Cross squashes Johnson like a bug!” half-shouts/half-sighs ‘Ichiban’ as the Fallen Angel leans back for another cover. “It seems as if JJ is having trouble adjusting to a) his ring rust, and b) the fact that he’s not wrestling a cruiserweight, and that moves that quite possibly could have won him the match already against a lighter opponent will not work against the bigger, stronger Cross!”




    TW-Again, Johnson kicks out, much to the crowd’s disappointment. Cross is averse to face-punching, and now knows what happens when he hangs around after a pin, quickly scrambling off of the Canadian and reaching down, tugging Johnson to his feet…and lighting his chest up with a chop!






    100,000 strong shout out in unison, “Death Valley” rumbling with the combined sonic force of the Flairism as Johnson grabs at his already-reddening pectoral…before shooting in and grabbing Cross by the legs, muscling him HIGH INTO THE AIR…but Cross has sufficient enough mat wrestling ability to know when he’s being taken down, and in a display impressive for a man his size, sprawls in mid-air forcing Johnson to release him or get his head crushed upon landing. A bit taken aback by the relatively amazing maneuver, the Canadian hesitates, giving Cross all the time he needs to shoot in and hook his arm around Johnson before bridging back with an Exploder…no! Johnson tucks a leg between the Fallen Angel’s, effective canceling out any momentum he may have had generated by the powerful Oregonian’s throw. Now it’s CROSS that’s taken aback, and it’s JOHNSON that capitalizes, burying a heavy knee strike into the gut of his opponent before trapping him in another standing headscissors!


    “Johnson, looking for that powerbomb again!” shouts Annie E, “and I can’t help but think that Johnson still hasn’t worn Cross down enough to hit the move!”


    “You know, I don’t like agreeing with you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to,” admits the Gambling Man once more as Johnson doubles over, goes into another deep breath, ducks low, heaves…


    …and gets Cross off the mat!


    But only a little bit, and Cross is quick to shift his weight backwards, dropping him back onto his feet before surging upwards, looking for another spinebuster reversal to a foolish JJ Johnson tactic; but it’s not to be as, mirroring Cross earlier, Johnson sprawls backwards, taking a firm grip on David’s head by trapping him in a front facelock! 223 pounds of pulling is strong, but 269 is stronger, and Johnson doesn’t have it in him to tug the Fallen Angel off of his feet from his mid-air position; as an alternative, Cross doubles over, and Johnson lands on his feet before throwing a few knees into his face!






    The Fallen Angel is sufficiently dazed now, and Johnson capitalizes by reaching forward, hooking a leg, and lifting Cross UP…before dropping him on his head with a sheer-drop fisherman’s brainbuster!




    “FISHERMAN BUSTAH!!” shouts King! “NOW Johnson is going to have some momentum going his way.”


    Johnson quickly covers the folded-up opponent, Kalem dropping down for a cover…






    TH-at Cross breaks himself out of, sitting up and shaking his head, trying to get some feeling rushing back in. It is the work of a moment, however, for Johnson to change his rush-want from feeling to air as he snaps to attention and draws Cross’ arm back before tucking an arm around him and squeezing with his Buffalo Sleeper hold!


    “Now Johnson has the right idea here,” commends King, “because if Cross can’t breathe, Cross can’t squash him like a bug with a black belt in four martial arts.”


    “Subtle,” groans Annie as Cross’ face quickly begins to turn purple; the Buffalo Sleeper is a dangerous hold indeed, and David is working on seemingly borrowed time. He is working on borrowed time with a 6’5” frame though, so it wouldn’t take much stretching and repositioning to be able to drape a foot over the bottom rope; an easy task this is not, as Johnson has a firm grip on him, and doesn’t really look like he’s going to be lenient and let Cross out of the first real advantage he’s gotten all match. The Fallen Angel attempts to power his arm out of the chickenwing Johnson has it in, but the Canadian responds in turn by squeezing his neck even harder, and since nobody likes breathing being a big chore, Cross’ resistance stops – at least, for now.


    “Actually,” begins King, “IS this the right idea?”


    “I see your point, King,” says Ichiban, drawing a swear from the Gambling Man despite himself. “Johnson’s momentum – and adrenaline – that he had built up is going out the window with every passing second he spends latched onto that Buffalo Sleeper. Should Cross escape, Johnson’s going to have to fight his way back into a dominant position, and I’m still not sure he’s got the fighting a big man’ mindset back entirely.”


    Johnson takes a moment to adjust his rock-solid grip on Cross’ arm…and the Pennsylvanian takes advantage, drawing his limb out of the crook of the Canadian’s arm, giving him more functioning body parts to work with – always a good thing. Capitalizing on his newfound dexterity, Cross reaches up and grabs the submission artist’s hair, mostly ignoring Kalem’s reprimands as he tugs him over with a snapmare that frees him from the hold and gives him the opportunity to lock on a hold of his own!




    Or give Johnson a vicious elbow strike to the back of the head! Gets the job done either way is Cross’ line of thinking as he scoots to his feet, although not as quick as he might have when he wasn’t gasping for air (which seems like ages ago now). Tugging Johnson up, Cross sticks him in a standing headscissors before bending down and wrapping his arms around his waist, bending low, and effortlessly tugging him up into the air for a powerbomb!


    “Show-off,” whines King, but the Gambling Man’s indignance is soon avenged as Johnson once again rolls off of the shoulders of the Fallen Angel, although not for a pin this time; instead, Johnson completes a full front-flip, landing right on his feet before dashing straight to the ropes, bouncing off, leaping into the air and TAKING CROSS’ HEAD CLEAN OFF HIS SHOULDERS WITH AN ENZUI-DYNAMIC KICKAAAAAHHH!!!




    “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!” screams King as he and Annie perform stereo leaps to their feet, Cross slumping forward into the ropes with a blank look in his eyes, the ropes tensing up before sending his full body weight stumbling backwards…and into Johnson’s waiting arms as he takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the sizable waist of his opponent before surging backwards and DROPPING HIM ON HIS HEAD WITH A DANGEROUS GERMAN!!




    THAT’LL TURN THE MOMENTUM BACK IN HIS FAVOR!” shouts Ichiban Onita as Cross is fortunate enough to be able to roll through the landing to prevent extensive damage to his neck; this does not mean he knows what day it is right now, mind you.


    “DANGEROUSGERMAAAAAAAAANNN!!!!” bellows King, something he’s probably been wanting to do for quite a while as Johnson sits up, panting heavily after the intense effort it took to send the near-270-pounder sailing through the air onto his head. Dragging himself to his feet, Johnson strides over to Cross, who is looking expectedly worse for wear as the Canadian takes him by the hair and, with great gusto, sticks him in a standing headscissors before looking out over the 100,000+ crowd, a ‘here we go again’ look on his face as he gets his breath back before bending down and wrapping his arms around the motionless Cross’ waist, bending low, digging deep for strength, and with a roar of adrenaline, pulling upward with all his might!







    “POWERBOMB! JOHNSON GOT THE POWERBOMB!” shouts King jubilantly as Johnson slides across the Oregonian’s battered form, pinning him in a difficult position to kick out of even WITHOUT having his brains scrambled. Kalem slides in, and the count is almost academic.















    In the sentence preceding the count, the emphasis should primarily be placed on ‘almost’.




    “WHAT?!” screams King, screams the heel section of the audience, and silently screams Johnson as Cross shoves his shoulder JUST off of the mat, forcing Blaine Kalem to stop his count and signal that yes, his hand only hit the mat two times. Johnson sits back on his haunches and closes his eyes for a moment, swearing under his breath at Cross’ unexpected resiliency.


    “Amazing heart from Cross!” notes the Hardcore Queen. ‘That flurry of offense would have put anybody else down for the count easily; it truly shows how tough Cross is that he can survive that, and everything else Johnson has thrown at him this match, although you have to wonder: why doesn’t Johnson just go for his juji-gatame? He’s in perfect position.”


    “He’s probably too frustrated to think straight, Annie,” responds King. “He’s rusty, he’s been struggling to adjust to wrestling a bigger guy all match, and then when he finally hits on a string of offense that works…it doesn’t work. You’d be frustrated too.”


    Johnson continues to sit back with his eyes closed, gritting his teeth as he tries to formulate a plan to beat Cross…when his eyes shoot open, and his teeth gritting goes to a grimace as the Fallen Angel’s hand shoots up and wraps itself around his throat!




    With a grimace and a groan, Cross sits up and shakes his head a few times, the glazed look in his eyes washing away with every subsequent shake. When he has apparently gotten sufficient amounts of senses back, he brings himself to his feet, wincing some more at the pain shooting down his neck and back as he makes it to his full, impressive height before tucking Johnson’s arm over his shoulder, planting an arm on his back, and lifting him for a chokeslam!


    That Johnson blocks, once more wrapping his leg around that of the Oregonian to halt his upward momentum, before launching a signature elbow smash to the back of his opponent’s head!




    Cross shakes his head, but other than that, the blow doesn’t hardly affect him, and he takes a breath before hoisting Johnson skyward once more!


    And once more, it’s blocked! Tired of this nonsense, Cross blasts the Canadian with a headbutt…




    …and for a moment at least, all attempts to block a chokeslam (or just motor skills in general) cease, Johnson’s head lolling back on his neck. Seeing his opportunity, Cross lifts!


    Johnson goes up!


    And snaps to attention, breaking Cross’ grip on his neck before unfolding in midair, planting his feet on the Fallen Angel’s chest and sending him stumbling back into the ropes with a dropkick!




    The crowd is more than displeased with Johnson’s possum-playing, and Cross isn’t that happy either, surging forward for a second Yakuza Kick…that once more ends up ducked, and Johnson whirls on the spot to catch Cross on the rebound with a rolling elbow!


    That Cross blocks! Instead of hesitating, Johnson goes immediately into his reverse elbow from earlier!


    That Cross sees coming this time and blocks again! Visibly frustrated now, Johnson turns back for his rolling elbow, and the Fallen Angel gets his hands up to that spot yet again to block the blow!


    But Johnson continues spinning, and Cross, anticipating a sudden screaming elbow, moves his hands back over to where he previously blocked the move…as Johnson immediately turns his spin into high gear, merely a blur as he finishes his rotation with terrifying speed and, unfolding his arm, drives a hooking lariat straight into the side of David’s head!




    “Shotgun lariat!” shouts King as Cross goes back to his prior state – dazed – and Johnson doesn’t even bother with a kick to the gut, instead meeting no resistance as he bends Cross over, tucks his head between his legs, and bends down before going into a breathing routine…heaves…and Cross stays put.


    “Johnson simply doesn’t have the energy for a second powerbomb,” notes Annie, “which once again has me wondering about that juji-gatame opportunity he passed on.”


    Johnson apparently has an alternate plan, though, as he reaches down and hooks Cross’ arms before taking YET ANOTHER breath and, with an enormous tug, brings Cross vertical, then falling backwards…


    …and then Johnson drops to his knees, plunging Cross high onto his shoulders with a Tiger Driver!




    “Tiger Driver! The powerbomb was too much effort after the first one, so he goes with an easier and arguably more powerful maneuver! Brilliant!” cries King as Johnson once more stacks himself on top of Cross, folding the Oregonian in an almost comical manner as Kalem slides in for the academic count.










    No almost in that sentence.











    “Blood & Thunder” strikes up again as Johnson slides himself off of Cross, rolling out of the ring and making his way to the back, never one for arm-raising.


    “Here is your winner, J! J! JOHNSON!” booms Funyon as the crowd continues to be rather displeased.


    “Excellent effort from David Cross in this action-packed matchup,” admits the Hardcore Queen, “but tonight, once he got back into the groove, JJ Johnson was just too good for him.”


    “JJ Johnson’s too good for ANYONE, Annie,” says King, rolling his eyes as if this were common knowledge.


    “Except Magnifico,” responds Eclectic.


    “Well, duh,” says King, and Annie rolls her eyes before advising the viewers to stick around; after all, it’s Fury vs. Stryke vs…Doom, and it’s next!




  4. Card:




    THE MAIN EVENT - SWF Cruiserweight Championship Match

    "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu © © vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

    GUEST COMMENTATOR: Ghost Machine 2.0


    ---> Oooooh yeeeeeah, diggit! The Cruisers take the Main Event! Spike Jenkins cashes in his long-awaited shot against the man who took the gold from his partner, Akira Kaibatsu! Will Spike bring the gold back home to Camp Spyon, or will Akira retain, and leave SpYon in the dust?


    And this match just wouldn't be complete without the man next in line for a shot on Color Commentary.


    Rules: PURE RULES. Each man has three ropebreaks allowed to break up submissions and pinfalls - after those three are used up, there are no more ropebreaks. Closed fist punches result in the loss of a rope break - if you throw a closed fist and you have no more ropebreaks, you are disqualified, and the title CAN change hands in this manner. Outside count goes to 20.




    Ultraviolent Championship Match - House Rules

    Fever Pitch Match

    Bruce Blank © vs. Sean Davis


    ---> Bruce Blank scored his lucky 13th on Smarkdown, and how are we celebrating? By shoving him straight into #14! Tonight, the Beat the Champ Challenge sees Sean Davis vying for the title. Davis had an impressive reign of his own a while back - will he be the one to defeat the Hardcore King?


    Rules: Tiger Stadium crowds have set a record for loudest audience ever - it's time to see if our competitors can do the same! The match will be fought under standard hardcore rules - no DQ, no countout, BUT! The object of the match is not to pin your opponent!


    LSU Professor Mark Slovak and his undergraduates will be on the floor, right in the thick of the action, measuring the volume of our competitors!


    The match will last 15 minutes long - your goal, within that time, is to make your opponent scream/shriek/cry/etc. as loud as they can! Whoever has the loudest decibel volume recorded at the end of the match is the loser!




    Zyon vs. Ghost Machine 2.0


    ---> Ghost Machine picked up a HUGE win over Spike Jenkins on Smarkdown, sending a clear message to the Cruiser Division: 0001011100101001011010111001.


    Get it? It's a binary joke.


    Anyway, while Ghost Machine patiently awaits his shot at the Cruiserweight title, he takes on the former owner of said title, Zyon! A win for GM would be big... a win for Zyon, potentially bigger...


    Rules: Standard singles match.




    Tornado Tag Team Match

    Insane Luchadore and Amy Stephens vs. Kevin Coyote and The Crimson Skull


    ---> Insane Luchadore and Amy Stephens have something in common - they both want a shot at Bruce. Will they be united in their hatred for all things Blank, or will their quest for Ultraviolent Gold pit them against each other? Hopefully the former, as they will be facing the formidable team of Kevin Coyote and The Crimson Skull, who also have something in common - neither one has an A in their name.


    Rules: Tornado tag rules - everyone is legal, all the time! No countouts! DQ's are still in effect, though, and pinfalls still take place inside the ring.




    I Am Completely Lacking In Originality Triple Threat

    Stryke vs. Christian Fury vs. Jimmy the Doom


    ---> In the name of getting as many people booked as possible, two Calvinball losers will take their aggression out on the winner!


    Rules: Standard triple threat rules (no tags required).




    Opening Bout

    JJ Johnson vs. David Cross


    ---> BECAUSE, that's why.


    Rules: Standard singles match.


    “Lot of knots, lot of snags!”


    …The crowd, simply put, explodes!


    ”Lot of holes, lot of cracks lot of crags!”


    “Well, well,” says Annie, “we’re going to be joined by the new SWF World Champion!”


    ”Lot of naggin' old hags,”


    “About damn time too,” remarks King, “you’d think the champion would show up once in a while, but not Wes.”


    ”Lot of fools, lot of fool scum bags.”


    “Aww King, did Davenport reject your advances too like I did?”


    ”Oh it's such a drag, what a chore,”


    Oh, please,” grumbles King, “I wouldn’t make a pass at either of you.”


    ”Oh your wounds are full of salt.”


    “C’mon King, in this pair, I’m more of a straight man than you are.”


    ”Everything's a stress and what's more,”


    “…RILEY DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE! Besides, Lesbian’s can’t do colour.”


    ”…Well it's all somebody's fault!”


    “… What the hell are we talking about now?”


    “I don’t know, I don’t think anyone can hear us over this deafening roar anyway… bitch.”


    The crowd reaches near record breaking levels of excitement as “Get Over It” hits to a thunderous ovation! As the chorus begins to play, a familiar, striking silhouette is seen coming out from behind the curtain, World Title slung across his shoulder!


    “Ladies and Gentleman,” Funyon booms, trying valiantly to hear himself over the rabid crowd, “please welcome to the ring… the NEW Smarks Wrestling Federation WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… WES DAAAAAAAVVVVEEEEEEEENPOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRT!”


    As Davenport strides out looking as suave as ever (although he’s trying to fight back tears at the response), a bitter King remarks, “I still won’t believe this hack is the World Champion, I just refuse to recognize it.”


    “Truthfully, I haven’t done much research for this role, but if Davenport can defeat a man such as Magnifico, he must be doing something right,” the Lesbian replies, “and boy, I wouldn’t mind cuddling up with him tonight, he sure is a tall drink of water, yes sir, quite handsome.”


    “Peters is telling you to say this, isn’t he?”


    “Hey, we have to make the guys listening think they have a chance with me, otherwise they’ll tune out.”


    “I think they just did.”


    “.. I did bad, didn’t I?”


    The World Champion, which he likes to be known as all the time now, makes his way to ringside. He takes the time to shake the hands of a few fans, acting gracious and dignified as he climbs the steel steps and enters through the second and third ropes. Wes makes his way over to Funyon, who, as he agreed to do earlier, takes Wes’ world title. Davenport quickly runs to the ropes and slides out of the ring… before entering the ring the exact same way as before, approaching Funyon with a beaming smile as he ecstatically accepts his World title like an award, and grabs the mic from Funyon, who leaves the ring ruing the day he ever dropped out of dental school. The cheers begin to die down, but since they were so damn loud it takes a few minutes, but Wes doesn’t seem to mind as he keeps looking at his title, feigning disbelief. As soon as the crowd falls silent, Wes Davenport raises the microphone to his lips…


    “I – I just can’t believe it. You love me, you REALLY LOVE ME!”


    Wild applause breaks out once again, as a “DAVEN – PORT!” chant is started. The Champion soon settles everyone down, however, and continues. “All joking aside, I’m thankful all of you stood by me on my quest for this coveted title, and for that, I thank you all.”


    “Oh please,” King snidely says, “he couldn’t care less about the fans! All that he wants is the adulation they rain down upon him for whatever ungodly reason!”


    “Come on, King, I think you’re overreacting just a smidgen,” replies Annie, grinning, “I don’t know much about him, but from what I’ve seen, he adores the fans just as they adore him, and you can’t fake that.”


    “Quiet, butch,” King responds, thinking he burned his partner good, “You rest assured, you’ll see Davenport’s true colours soon enough.”


    “At From the Fire, I did something many could not,” Davenport boasts, much to King’s disdain, “I defeated El Luchadore Magnifico, the ugly head of this federation, but I emerged victorious where many said I could not.” Davenport turns to King and grins, causing the commentator to fume, “And I have you fans to thank for it.”


    Again the fans show their support and cheer wildly, causing Davenport to break out into a smile. “I admit, I’m not a man of many words…”


    “… not unless they’re written for him,” King says with a scowl before Wes continues, “but I promise you all that I will do my utmost to bring back some class, dignity and pride to this title!”


    Davenport suddenly thrusts his newly won title aloft as hundreds of flashes go off in the sea of fans. Annie is impressed. “It’s refreshing to see someone speak with actions, rather than words.”


    “But that’s the thing, he gives these fans nothing but terrible, sloppy in-ring action,” rebuts King, “and yet they still love him. Well, soon enough Magnifico, or someone else more deserving of the title will come along and bring the dream to an end, and believe me, EVERYONE is more deserving of the title than Davenport.”


    Davenport lowers his title and gazes at it for a second, continuing with his victory speech, “winning this title means the world to me. The acting community shunned me, despite many great performances, and I thought I’d never receive any praise ever again… but coming here and winning this gold has turned my life around. I can see I’m getting the wind up now,” Wes says as he looks at the timekeeper, who just shrugs having no idea what he’s talking about, “so I’ll leave you with this…”


    “I’ll do my absolutely utmost to keep this title, and to make all of you proud…”


    “… Trust me.”


    With that, the fans go nuts as, for some strange reason, “Hooked on a feeling” begins to play, and as Davenport leaves the ring, he bellows out in his sweet singing voice, “I can’t stop this feeling!”


    “Deep inside of me!”


    “Oh you have got to be kidding me…” King says, closing his eyes, hoping this is all a terrible dream.


    “Boy, you just don't realize…”


    “He’s serenading this crowd with a song, and isn’t it great to see our World Champion’s sing again?” Annie replies, nudging King repeatedly.


    “… What you do to me!”


    As streamers and confetti fall from the sky, and the fans cheer, a string of dancers come down the ramp, surrounding Wes as he sings! Dry retching can be heard from the announce desk, but the jubilant event continues unabated!


    “Your lips are sweet as candy! The taste is on my mind!”


    “If he’s singing to the fans now,” Remarks King, “he has some severe mental problems.”


    “…You just keep me thirsty, for another cup of wine!”


    ”When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know, everything's all right!”


    As Davenport reaches the entranceway, ready to head behind the curtain, the cheers die down, and the dancers cease…







    The World Champion suddenly spins around, hitting the chorus with gusto! The cheers break out even louder as the fans sing along!


    “And I’m high on believing…”


    “… That you’re in love with MMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”


    “I think I’m going to be sick.”


    “Oh come on, lighten up King!” Annie yells, “Get into the spirit! I know you love this song!”


    “I’m not RILEY!” King tries to settle himself down as the whole sickening display continues with Wes being raises into the air by the dancers as…




    … A dazzling array of pyrotechnics shoots into the air! The song finishes, prompting the fans to go insane as Davenport waves to them as he’s carried to the back!


    “A spectacular show from our new World Champion has certainly kicked things off with a bang,” Annie says, “what else could possibly happen here tonight? Stay tuned to find out!”


    “God Damnit, now you’re treading on my lines you carpet…”







  6. Three days. Technically, it should be four, but we never get the card up the day it's supposed to be up.


    The reason everything seems so scrunched up is because of the way we had to push the schedule back following the Lethal Lottery. The next two shows are 5-day shows, so it should all be back to boring, droll monotony after this.



  7. With one exception and an asterix (Johnny and Duran*), nobody has ever won the WF world title with anything except for their first, original character.


    Wes Davenport effectively becomes the greatest ringer of all time with this win, although his competition is limited to Johnny and Spider Nekura.



  8. The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation Presents...



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

    It's the hottest show of the year!

    ... ok, already off to a bad start...

    Anyway! SWF From the Fire is coming to you from Phoenix, Arizona, where I hear it's pretty hot, so I think it's a good fit. The action begins on the not-really-appropriately-titled-pre-show Frost, where the obligatory QMM match will open the show, and CALVINBALL III will headline!

    THEN! Amy Stephens is out to prove she's more than just eye candy as she takes on Ghost Machine V2.0 for a shot at the Cruiserweight Title! Bruce Blank defends his Ultraviolent Championship against the returning Renegade! Wayne Blank takes on Insane Luchadore, and attempts to gain employment with the SWF, while Kevin Coyote and Longdogger Pete fight to end each others' career! And Jay Hawke and Wildchild battle for the International Championship inside a steel cage!

    Which carries us right into From the Fire's DOUBLE MAIN EVENT!

    FIRST! The winning teams of the Lethal Lottery, the Asian Underground and Team SpYon, clash with the reigning champions, Landon Maddix and Max King, in a TLC Match!

    THEN! Wes Davenport, winner of the 2006 Clusterfuck, cashes in his World Title Shot against the unbeatable El Luchadore Magnifico! A little bit of skill and a whole lot of luck have brought Wes this far - can they carry him just a little bit further?

    SWF From the Fire! As soon as I come up with a snappy way to end this synopsis, I'll edit it in!

    OFFICIAL THEME MUSIC: "Born from Fire," by Amorphis



    SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match
    El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Wes Davenport

    --->"I'm going to From the Fire...?" Those are the words uttered by #1 contender Wes Davenport after winning the SWF Clusterfuck at the end of January, and even now, he still may not believe them! In a truly unprecidented series of events, the former wrestler turned actor turned back wrestler joined the SWF to re-condition himself for a movie role, but when that fell through, Davenport found himself in the position of needing to honor his SWF contract... and he has done more than his part. With the exhilarating finish to Lockdown's main event, Davenport has found himself with a victory over the world champion, even if it was his tag partner. Wes finds himself in the position of the man most able to defeat El Luchadore Magnifico, but for the world champion, this all old hat. Two other men, both Todd Cortez and JJ Johnson, have been "the best" threat to the Mexican's monstrous title reign, and Magnifico has whisked them away. ELM may have already cemented himself as the greatest SWF champion in history, and can a mere actor really hope to knock him off his throne? Who will emerge from the embers as world heavyweight champion?

    Rules: Standard singles match.
    Send to: janusd


    Street Fight
    Kevin Coyote vs. Longdogger Pete

    --->Flash back to a month ago: The shocking revelation that William "Judge Mental" Hearford had been threatening to tell the world about his ex-protoge, Kevin Coyote, is finally revealed by Coyote himself: He is the son of Longdogger Pete! Over the last several weeks, both men, incredulous over this fact, have struggled bitterly. After a long series of unprovoked attacks by Coyote, Pete has finally come to a decision: To face Coyote in a street fight with both men's careers on the line! Estranged father and son meet in the most emotionally charged match of From the Fire!

    Rules: Street fight - no DQ, no countouts, pinfalls count anywhere.
    Send to: chirs3


    TABLES, LADDERS, AND CHAIRS - SWF Tag Team Championship Match
    Landon Maddix © and Max King © vs. The Asian Underground (Akira Kaibatsu © and Michael Cross) vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins and Zyon

    ---> The Lethal Lottery is finally over! No more, we promise. Tonight, The Asian Underground and Team SpYon, both undefeated in the tournament, ascend to From the Fire's co-main event, a Triple Threat TLC for the SWF Tag Team Championships! May the best team win!

    Rules: The tag team championship belts will be suspended above the ring, which is surrounded by - you guessed it - tables, ladders, and chairs. No holds barred, anything goes. First team to take possession of the tag titles wins.
    Send to: realitycheck


    CAGE MATCH - SWF International Championship
    Jay Hawke © vs. Wildchild

    ---> Nowhere to run to, baby! Nowhere to hiiiiiiide! Jay Hawke has managed to slip away from Wildchild numerous times in the past, but not tonight! At From the Fire, Wildchild gets another crack at the International Champion, and this time they will be in the confines of a steel cage! This could be the end of Jay Hawke's unstoppable title reign... or it could be his biggest defense yet.

    Rules: Pinfall, Submission, OR Escape. Everything counts.
    Send to: Evolution


    #1 Contendership for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship
    Amy Stephens vs. Ghost Machine 2.0

    ---> It's a chick vs. a robot. THAT'S ALL THE REASONING WE NEED.

    Amy wants to prove that she's an asset to the company, and Joseph Peters has granted her a shot against everybody's favorite spectral android! Can Amy make good on her attempt to move up the food chain, or will Ghost Machine expose her as a damn fine woman who just can't cut it in the ring?

    Rules: Standard, with Cruiserweight Addenda - no throwing your opponent over the top rope, outside count goes to 20.
    Send to: Justice


    Ultraviolent Ladder Match
    Insane Luchadore vs. Wayne Blank

    ---> Part two of the Ultraviolent Double Header sees Insane Luchadore taking on Blank!

    Unfortunately, it's the wrong Blank. But I don't think Insane Luchadore is going to care - one Blank is as good as another to him! Hanging above the ring is a briefcase with a contract for IL vs. Bruce, and if Bruce still holds the UV Title, it will be on the line!

    But there's another briefcase hanging above the ring, this one containing a contract for Wayne! Bruce's brother makes his first (and possibly last) sanctioned SWF appearance at From the Fire, fighting for future employment!

    This is a match neither man can afford to lose - too bad one of them has to.

    Rules: "Ultraviolent Ladder Match" - Regular ladder match rules, but the ladder legs are wrapped in barbwire and there are various weapons and barbwire wrapped objects scattered all over the aisle and ringside area.

    Suspended in the air is a briefcase with 2 contracts. One is for a singles match with Bruce under UV rules (Title match if Bruce still has the title) and one is an SWF Contract for Wayne Blank - Winner tears up the other contract and keeps his own.
    Send to: The Superstar


    Death on Ice - SWF Ultraviolent Championship Match
    Bruce Blank © vs. Renegade

    ---> The first round of the Ultraviolent Double Header sees the reigning nigh-unstoppable champion meet possibly his biggest challenge yet - THE RENEGADE MASTAH~! Renegade is back, and ready to dish out the hurt in the SWF's second ever Death on Ice match! Can Renegade finally dethrone the king of Ultraviolence, or will Bruce hang on to the title long enough for IL to get his shot?

    Rules: It's a Last Man Standing match - but fought in the Arizona Hockey Arena. Actually it's fought during a break in the action of a chairty hockey event between the Phoenix Coyotes and representatives from the SWF. Anything is legal as long as they stay inside the actual arena. Match goes on until one man cannot answer the 10 count.
    Send to: Secret Agent


    SWF Frost Pre-PPV Show

    Stryke vs. Sean Davis vs. Jimmy the Doom vs. Christian Fury vs. Arch Griffon vs. An Octopus vs. Matt "Hobbes" Myers

    ---> A year ago this week, the SWF held Calvinball II. Widely considered by everyone except Thoth to be a smashing success, we're bringing it back! Six men (one of whom will be wearing a poorly constructed Hobbes outfit - and yes, Janus is in the building) and one Octopus will enter the arena as contenders - only one will leave as the Champion of Calvinball III!

    Rules: Ha!
    Send to: Evolution


    ??? vs. "Big Country" Martin Hunt

    ---> QUESTION MARK MAN RETURNS! Making his 431847232794th appearance in the SWF, QMM will go one on one against "Big Country" Martin Hunt - is it his debut? Has he been here before? Will the revealing of his identity shatter the universe into a million different splinter universes due to the sheer raw power of his presence? MAYBE.

    Rules: Standard singles match.
    Send to: chirs3


  9. The recurring problem with the website is that it's simply not integeral. To properly use it, we have to move the entire operation onto it, and nobody quite seems prepared for that.


    It's been frequently commented that a website is pretty much the only way to attract a wider base of recruits, and while that's probably true, I'm not sure anybody is preceisely sure how to do that.


    I'm also not clear on exactly who was given admin access to the site, which may explain the updating problems. I have a pretty decent idea of what kind of overall features (another) new website could have, but I'm honestly not sure if it's worth the effort to discuss.