chirs3

Jimmy vs. Jakey is up.

“Welcome back everyone, it’s now time for our main event on Storm,” Mak Francis says as the live feed comes back, “and it’s a clash with a certain amount of history behind it for sure. Zyon and Toxxic first faced each other in the Doomtopian Airlines Arena for the World Title where Zyon came up short, then again in the Elimination Chamber where Toxxic seemingly double-crossed the Unique Youth as they were allying against Spike Jenkins-” “You can’t double-cross someone in a no-disqualification match with no teams!” Suicide King says, exasperated. “I said ‘seemingly’,” Francis argues, “and anyway, we know that’s how Zyon interpreted it; then there was the Ladder Match for the Cruiserweight Title where Zyon handed Toxxic his first defeat since the Best of Five series with Scott Pretzler in 2005... but doubt remains to this day about whether Zyon was aware at the time of Gabriel Drake’s involvement.” “And now we have Zyon challenging Landon Maddix for the World Title,” the Gambling Man adds, “despite that loss to the Fabulous Jakey last week… and now he’s up against Toxxic. However, the important thing I want to know, Mak; what happened to Gabriel Drake’s rematch?” “I can only assume that what with Drake missing a couple of shows during his title reign Tom Flesher has decided he’s too unreliable to give a rematch to at this point,” the Franchise speculates. “However, for now we need to concentrate on-” ‘I’M BORN…’ ‘I’M ALIVE…’ ‘I BREATHE…’ “Well, yeah.” The phrases flash up on the Smarktron as ‘Vitamin’ by Incubus starts pumping out of the speakers, and moments later the figure of the Unique Youth appears at the top of the entrance ramp. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms. “Introducing first, from Elkhart, Indiana; he weighs in tonight at 200lbs… this is ‘The Unique Youth’, ZYYYYYYYYYY-ONNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “It’s still kind of odd to have Zyon coming out and for the crowd to not be behind him,” Mak muses as Zyon hurtles down the entrance ramp and leaps up onto the ring apron before flipping acrobatically into the squared circle. “Still, he lost a lot of friends due to his complete lack of respect for the Insane Luchador.” “Mak, Looch is a joke and you need to realise it,” King sighs, “and just because he’s been around a long time doesn’t make him any less of one. Zyon was one hundred percent right in his actions.” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” Zyon doesn’t get that long to hog the spotlight, because the rolling soccer chant crashes out through the stadium moments before the oozing bassline of ‘The Gush’ by Raging Speedhorn starts up. The Smartron quickly starts to fade down from whiteout to black, and as it does so a familiar phrase flashes up, jagged white letters spelling out one word at a time: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ Three chords ring out, and as they do so the Smarktron shows Toxxic taking a springboard enzuigiri from Kibagami that knocks him off the top rope; then the top-rope Mark of the Beast from Gabriel Drake; then the chokeslam from Janus that eliminated him from the Clusterfuck. Finally it shows him taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Stephens Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!* -stagewide eruption of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman as the main riff hammers out! And through the flame and smoke… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …red-and-black trenchcoat flapping around him and blue-black hair spiked upwards… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …with a familiar lopsided grin on his face as he swaggers down towards the ring… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …comes the man they call Toxxic. “And his opponent,” Funyon booms, “from Nottingham, England; he weighs in tonight at 218lbs… this is the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’, TOXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Toxxic pauses at the bottom of the ramp to cross his arms in the straight-edge ‘X’ sign for a moment, then throws them wide, palms flat to the floor, as another blast of red pyro ignites at the top of each ringpost! *BOOOM!* The straight-edger rolls in and comes up to his feet, strips off his trenchcoat and then his red England soccer shirt and places them carefully over the ropes instead of hurling the shirt out to the crowd. Referee Ced Ordonez checks that both men are ready, then calls for the opening bell: *DING-DING-DING!* Zyon sprints forwards immediately and lunges low, perhaps looking for a single-leg pick. This technical approach clearly catches Toxxic off-guard and the Englishman only just manages to scramble away, but Zyon comes at him again and shoots low again! Toxxic dodges once more but Zyon pursues him - and this time Toxxic steps in towards his onrushing opponent and takes Zyon over with an armdrag before the Unique Youth starts to drop! *BANG!* Zyon lands hard on the mat but manages to roll through; he turns to find Toxxic advancing on him and manages to reply in kind- *BANG!* -but Toxxic gets back up as well, and instead of an armdrag the Englishman simply lets rip with a European uppercut! *WHAM!* Zyon lands flat on his back while Toxxic sweeps some imaginary dust from his shoulder, then leaps into the air looking for a jumping elbow drop. The moment’s showboating costs the straight-edger as Zyon rolls aside, and the Unique Youth then dives on him looking for a side headlock. Toxxic immediately swings his legs up and grabs a headscissors to drag Zyon down and away; Zyon kips up to break the hold and launches a basement dropkick at Toxxic, but the Englishman swats his opponent’s feet away with both hands to avoid almost all the impact of the kick, then rolls back up to a vertical base with his cocky grin still intact. Zyon turns around to see his opponent beckoning him with a black-nailed hand to see if he can do better! “YOU BOTH SUCK!” “YOU BOTH SUCK!” “The crowd not really big fans of either of these men,” Mak Francis notes as the hostile noise rises around them, “and I can’t say I blame them. After all, they’re both-” “Far more talented than anyone in the crowd?” King cuts in. “Well… yeah, probably, but-” “I think that says it all,” King sniffs, “envy is a huge motivator.” Zyon approaches a bit more cautiously this time, feinting to go low again but then lunging for Toxxic’s head to try and grab a side headlock. However Toxxic reads his opponent’s intentions and blocks him to settle into a familiar collar-and-elbow tie-up, then grabs Zyon’s right arm and slides out to the side to come up behind the Unique Youth with a hammerlock. Zyon tries to reach back and grab his opponent but with no success, only for Toxxic to barge him in the back and propel him towards the nearest buckles. Zyon tries to throw the brakes on but Toxxic’s still pushing, and he can’t twists away because the straight-edger has his arm bent up behind his back, so the only option he has is to be sandwiched between Toxxic and the buckles at high speed! *WHUMP!* Ced Ordonez steps in to try and separate the two wrestlers but Toxxic’s having none of it; he starts laying in with right hands on Zyon even as the Unique Youth tries to turn around and defend himself, and with Zyon taking a beating the straight-edger grabs his opponent’s wrist and Irish whips him towards the far corner of the ring. At least that’s the intention, but Zyon reverses the momentum and sends Toxxic for the ride instead… only for the Straight-Edge Sensation to leap athletically to the top rope, then come diving back off with a flying clothesline for the Role Reversal! Zyon’s fast enough to hit the deck and Toxxic goes sailing overhead, but as Zyon pops up to his feet expecting to see the Englishman land flat on his face on the mat the truth becomes clear; Toxxic turned his dive into a roll at the last moment before impact, rolled through back up to his feet and ran on to the opposite turnbuckles, where he leaps to the top rope again and comes back off- *WHAM!* -with the Corkscrew Dropkick that just caught Zyon in the chest! The crowd gives a faint cheer at the sight of Zyon taking the hit, and possibly some grudging appreciation of Toxxic’s quick-thinking and agility. “Come on Mak,” Suicide King says, applauding enthusiastically, “spotmonkey he may be, but that was good!” “Toxxic’s athletic ability has never been in doubt,” Francis acknowledges, “any more than Zyon’s has. It’s just a case of how they conduct themselves.” Toxxic makes the cover which he rolls into, hooking the leg as he does so… ONE! TWO!! …but Zyon kicks out moments after Ordonez’s hand hits the mat for the second time! Toxxic grabs his opponent by the head and brings Zyon up, delivers a knee to the gut to prevent the Unique Youth from getting any ideas, then twists around to take him back down with a swinging neckbreaker. Zyon grabs at his neck on landing but Toxxic isn’t going to let him rest; instead the Englishman pulls him back up to his feet, then grabs his wrist and Irish whips Zyon into the ropes. Zyon rebounds and Toxxic leaps into the air looking for a spinning wheel kick, but Zyon ducks under and runs for the far cables! Toxxic manages to land on his feet, but he’s off-balance and as he turns to try and get a bead on his opponent he’s not ready for Zyon to explode back at him and deliver a running front dropkick to the chest! “Snap!” Mak Francis shouts as Toxxic hits the mat at about the same time as Zyon lands on it, “Zyon was too fast there!” Zyon kips up- *whump* *whump-CRACK!* -but so does Toxxic a moment later, and before Zyon can react the Englishman leaps up and nails him with an enzuigiri! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd does cheer that one, mainly because Zyon got the equivalent of a bitchslap from his English opponent; Toxxic takes a moment to fully recover his breath before taking hold of Zyon’s legs and starting to try and thread them together for the Regal Stretch, but Zyon gathers his wits and pushes himself up on his arms before tucking his head in and rolling forwards to drag his legs out of his opponent’s grasp. As it happens Toxxic is still holding on and the Straight-Edge Sensation comes staggering forwards as he’s tugged off-balance, and this gives Zyon a chance to reach up and take him back over with a schoolboy pin… ONE! TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out! Zyon comes to his feet quicker and is able to catch Toxxic while the Englishman is still getting up; he places one knee over the back of his opponent’s head, grabs Toxxic’s near arm and then falls forwards, spinning his opponent over as he does so and hitting the Rolling Neckbreaker. He rolls sideways into a rather lackadaisical pin… ONE! TWO!! …and Toxxic kicks out again! “Zyon really didn’t have a good cover applied there,” Mak Francis says disapprovingly. “Yeah, because we all know that technical solidity is Zyon’s strongpoint,” King snorts. Zyon takes hold of Toxxic (by the hair - not as easy as it used to be, but still possible) and hauls the straight-edger up, then hooks him up as if for a vertical suplex. Whether a snap brainbuster or a snap suplex is the intended move we may never know, because Toxxic hooks one leg behind Zyon’s to block the move, then delivers a couple of punches to his opponent’s gut to cut the Unique Youth’s momentum off. With this aim achieved Toxxic then reaches across with his left arm and tries to hook Zyon’s leg… but Zyon has no wish to be on the receiving end of a Caffeine Bomb, and now it’s his turn to fire punches into his opponent’s ribs! Toxxic staggers back, and Zyon adds insult to injury by raking the Englishman’s eyes! ‘Yaargh!’ Toxxic turns away, blinded; referee Ced Ordonez snaps at Zyon before moving to try and check if Toxxic is good to continue, but Zyon seizes his arm and hauls him out of the way before going to ‘check’ on Toxxic himself. The Unique Youth carefully takes hold of his opponent’s head, turns him around and acts as though inspecting the straight-edger’s face, and just as Toxxic’s vision clears enough to work out what’s going on Zyon grins at him, then delivers a European uppercut! “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd rather liked that little dose of one-upmanship, as Zyon flattens the Englishman with his own signature strike before brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder in turn. He then picks up one of Toxxic’s legs in each hand and dives forwards, folding his opponent’s legs back with his thighs and pinning the straight-edger in a rather unorthodox manner… ONE! TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out again! Zyon looks questioningly at Ced Ordonez but the Filipino ref shakes his head sternly and signals for a two count. Zyon then brings Toxxic up again, a cocky smirk plastered over his face. “Zyon seems to have the upper hand at the moment,” Mak notes, “but for how long?” With Toxxic still doubled over Zyon take a step back, then steps in again and performs a backflip as he looks for the Flash Kick… but it’s all Flash and no Kick, as Toxxic swings sideways and evades the move, leaving Zyon to complete the backflip and land on his feet without touching his opponent. This state of affairs quickly changes though, as Toxxic immediately launches himself into a discus clothesline and nearly takes Zyon out of his boots the moment the Unique Youth comes to rest! *WHAM!* Now it’s Toxxic’s turn to apply a cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Zyon kicks out. Toxxic brings the Unique Youth up, then grabs his wrist and Irish whips him towards the turnbuckles. Zyon hits hard, but a moment later the Straight-Edge Sensation charges in and launches himself into the air to catch Zyon with a leg lariat! Toxxic actually manages to control the ricochet and lands on his feet on the ring apron while Zyon staggers out a step, breath blasted from his lungs; the Englishman vaults to the top rope, reaches forwards and snares Zyon with a reverse headlock, then swings himself out and down to the mat to deliver the Final Shine! *BANG!* “It looks like Toxxic is stepping things up a gear here,” Mak Francis comments, “he’s not smiling anymore, and it looks like he’s starting to take this match seriously now.” Indeed, the familiar lopsided grin has left Toxxic’s features and the former World Champion doesn’t seem at all inclined to egg Zyon on to greater efforts as he did before; instead Toxxic has dropped into his usual fast-paced, clinical routine of putting the opponent down as fast as possible, and it is to this end that he grabs Zyon’s arms and tows the Unique Youth out towards the centre of the ring. With Zyon so placed Toxxic heads for the turnbuckles and starts to climb, reaching the top rope quickly and then diving off to land a Somersault Double Stomp right into Zyon’s ribcage! *CRUNCH!* “I don’t care who you are, that’s gonna hurt!” King says as Toxxic performs an Olympic-style dismount, complete with momentary pose, before snapping back into action and charging for the ropes. He rebounds off and hurtles back towards the prone Zyon, then leaps into the air and somersaults to come down with a flipping senton on the Unique Youth. Toxxic rolls through the move and comes back up to his feet, then instantly backflips into a standing moonsault that sees him land atop Zyon and hook the leg for a pin! ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Zyon kicks out! Toxxic casts a look in Ced Ordonez’s direction but the referee is certain that it was only a two, so the Englishman shrugs and continues by starting to drag Zyon up to his feet again. He then clasps both arms around Zyon’s chest and hoists the Unique Youth off the ground before kicking his legs out and crashing down with the Side Effect. “Sambo Slam from Toxxic,” Mak Francis notes, “and he’s going to the top rope again…” Sure enough, Toxxic has got back up and is heading for the turnbuckles; however, he slips on the way up and this proves telling as Zyon manages to struggle to his feet and charges the Englishman before he can set himself. The Unique Youth leaps up and pastes Toxxic in the head with a forearm, causing him to wobble, then climbs up to the second rope and delivers another that knocks Toxxic into a sitting position. With his opponent apparently dazed Zyon tries to take advantage and jumps up again, this time wrapping his legs around Toxxic’s head and snapping back for a hurricanrana… …but Toxxic manages to push Zyon off before he can get a proper grip, causing the Unique Youth to backflip and land on his feet in the ring while Toxxic stays seated on the top… …then Toxxic leaps off the second buckle and hooks Zyon around the head to take him down with a Blockbuster! *BANG!* The Straight-Edge Sensation scrambles into the cover immediately and hooks the leg… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Zyon kicks out again! Toxxic rolls his eyes in frustration at Ced Ordonez’s perceived slow count, then sighs and starts to bring Zyon back up to his feet again. The Unique Youth is in a bad way and can’t avoid the European uppercut that Toxxic throws at him, causing him to stagger back and collapse into the ropes. “Mak, much as I would prefer Zyon as World Champion instead of Maddix, and make no mistake I would, I can’t see how he can get a title shot in front of Gabriel Drake,” Suicide King says, doing his best to sound well-reasoned. “I respect Tom Flesher, but I must say his decision to let this one stand has surprised me.” “It does seem that the Year Of The Beast has come to an abrupt and premature end,” Mak shrugs, “but you never know, maybe Drake will return to form and come back to haunt Maddix again. Although given his record against La Cucaracha, Drake might prefer Zyon to have the title instead when he next comes around for a shot!” Toxxic follows Zyon in to the ropes, then whips the Unique Youth off them to the far side of the ring. He stretches out one arm to try and catch Zyon for his half-nelson facebuster, but Zyon manages to use his momentum to swing around behind the Straight-Edge Sensation, then leaps up for a rolling clutch pin! ONE! Zyon bridges back into a Mexican Bridge… TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out! The Englishman doesn’t want to risk any further fightbacks from his opponent so he grabs Zyon’s head in both hands as they both start to rise, then delivers a sickening headbutt that stops the Unique Youth in his tracks! With Zyon dazed Toxxic grabs him in a ¾ facelock, straightens up to his full height and makes a run for the nearest turnbuckles… …but Zyon pushes the straight-edger off before he can complete the Sunny In England! Toxxic turns around to try and grab Zyon again, but the Unique Youth jumps into the air and reaches out for the Big Shot… …but Toxxic pushes him away, and Zyon lands flat on his back on the mat! Toxxic turns around again and runs for the turnbuckles, then leaps to the top rope in one athletic bound before twisting and diving back off with a flying fistdrop aimed at Zyon’s forehead; unfortunately for the Englishman Zyon is no longer there, as the Unique Youth has rolled aside! Toxxic doesn’t manage to pull out of the dive and not only lands hard but lands hard specifically on his hand - he rolls away clutching his fist while Zyon simply rolls in the other direction until he passes underneath the bottom rope and ends up on the apron. “Zyon’s been managing to avoid the knockout blow so far,” Mak comments, “but he seriously need to start building some momentum if he’s to get back on track in this match.” “You never know, it might start here,” Suicide King mentions as Zyon hauls himself to his feet and grabs the top rope, “it’s just a case of if he spotmonkeys it correctly…” Zyon hauls back on the top rope, then leaps up to it before springboarding across the ring with his forearm drawn back… but Toxxic turns at the last moment and lashes out with his right boot! *CRACK!* “Denied!” Mak Francis shouts, “that Stephenskick just pasted Zyon, and the revival is over before it even really began!” Toxxic, still shaking his hand out, falls on top of Zyon and hooks the leg… ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Zyon still kicks out! Toxxic now looks thoroughly annoyed with Ced Ordonez, but the referee maintains that it was a two count and the straight-edger can do nothing except glower. Well, and flip a two-fingered salute, which he does. “If nothing else, Zyon’s resilience is impressive,” Mak Francis says, “but he doesn’t seem to have really got going in this match.” “Hell, Maddix is resilient,” King snorts, “I’m telling you Mak, Zyon had better start shaping up. The last thing I want is for Landon to be able to gloat about a successful title defence!” Toxxic starts to haul Zyon off the mat again, although the Unique Youth is veering towards deadweight now, having fired a shoulder off the canvas by the smallest of margins last time. The Englishman seems to know that his opponent is nearing the end of his stamina and places him in a front facelock, then stretches his arm out to the side… “Unfinished Business coming up!” Mak shouts. …but irony fails to strike and Business remains Unfinished, as Zyon desperately shoves Toxxic away from him as the Englishman starts to swing his arm down and twist around to complete the elbow-drive bulldog. Toxxic staggers a step but no more, turns back to get a new hold on his opponent- ‘Yaargh!’ -and Zyon goes to the eyes again! Toxxic staggers away, clawing at his face one more time, and Zyon shoves Ordonez aside and goes to follow up… …then stops, and steps aside to let Ced do his job! The referee looks confused but goes to check on Toxxic as Zyon slumps back into the corner, seemingly out of energy. Ordonez takes Toxxic’s head and turns it towards him, trying to communicate with the straight-edger and see if his vision is good enough to continue… …and Toxxic swings a blind right hand that takes Ced down! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Straight-Edge Sensation follows up with a volley of kicks to the prone referee, and Ordonez finds himself with no option but to call for the bell! *DING-DING-DING!* “Ladies and gentlemen,” Fuyon booms, “the winner of this match as a result of a disqualification following a prolonged assault on the referee… ‘The Unique Youth’, ZYYYYYYYYY-ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!” “WHAT!?” Mak shouts as Toxxic suddenly freezes, then starts wiping his eyes to work out what the hell’s going on. The straight-edger suddenly realises that he’s been attacking Ordonez, and backs away in horror! “Damn, that’s good,” King laughs, “he tricked Toxxic - Toxxic - into playing dirty!” Toxxic stares across the ring through smeared eyeliner at Zyon; the Unique Youth manages a smirk before half-falling out through the ropes and limping towards the backstage area. “Zyon never really got started in this match, and Toxxic was well in control,” Mak sums up, “but in the end Zyon… well, he played a dirty trick, and I think he deliberately put Ced into the firing line because he knew he couldn’t win the match anymore. Zyon’s pulled the win out here, technically, but I don’t think Toxxic is going to let him hear the last of this!” Toxxic, rather belatedly, protests to Ordonez that he didn’t know what was happening. Meanwhile the last image of Storm is of the smirk on Zyon’s face as he climbs the ramp while we FADE OUT ©2007 Acid Rayn Productions for Smartmarks Wrestling Federation ‘Raising Workrate By Typing Faster’

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent bourbon in Ecuador?” The tone of Tom Flesher’s voice seems to indicate that the question is a rhetorical one; the fact of who he’s talking to would indicate that it’ll be taken as such, whether he likes it or not. Toxxic just shrugs and chugs back a mouthful of Coke from the can he’s holding. “Drink the world’s most popular soft drink,” he suggests, “fuck, they worship it in some parts of Mexico. I once found a bloke selling it halfway up the High Atlas Mountains.” “You call that sugary swill a drink?” Flesher asks, sipping from his tumbler, “just imagine what it’s doing to your teeth.” “Who are you, my mother?” “Never mind,” the Superior One sighs, reflecting that although he’ll never admit it out loud, the British straight-edger was actually easier to deal with when he was still known by his birth name. Since re-adopting his ring name and his defeat of Danny Williams, Toxxic has dropped back into the ‘smug bastard’ routine with full force like he’d never been away. “Look-” “Is this going to take long?” Toxxic cuts in, checking his watch, “only I’ve got a meeting.” That pulls Flesher up short. “You have a meeting?” he replies incredulously. “Are you deaf?” Toxxic asks, tilting his head to one side. “Yes Tom, I have a meeting. So shoot.” “You know, the SWF Board of Directors were good enough to tell me when they removed Joe Peters from office,” Flesher tells him, “and I went away on vacation confident in the knowledge that when I got back, they’d have appointed a replacement. As you may have noticed, they haven’t.” “Yeah, wondered about that,” Toxxic admits, propping his feet up on the desk, “until I figured that you’d probably just hijacked the bidding process to stay in charge.” “Far from it,” Flesher tells him. “However, whether or not I want to be here, I am here, and now I’m doing two jobs. One of which is determining who gets title shots.” “Allegedly,” Toxxic points out, “Landon and Zyon stole a march on you the other week.” “Exactly,” Flesher agrees, although not without some reluctance. “Landon gambled on the prospect of a match with Zyon getting a good reaction from the fans, which it did. So now the Board have lumbered me with agreeing to this farce of a World Title match, unless some extenuating circumstances arise. Circumstances which would see the World Title picture thrown,” Flesher pauses to cough, “…wide open.” “Go on,” Toxxic nods, not taking his steel-grey eyes from the Commissioner. “Zyon is not the most reliable of competitors,” Flesher states flatly, “he’s had last chance after last chance under Peters, and even his fan base is dwindling now. But with the fans cheering Maddix’s stupid announcement, I can’t take him out of the picture unless he self-destructs first. He already lost to Jakey last week.” “I noticed,” Toxxic nods again with a faint smile. “You’ve been booked against him tonight for a reason,” Flesher informs the straight-edger, “namely, Zyon has only won against you once-” “-when Gabe did his dirty work for him,” Toxxic chips in, expression darkening at the memory of that Cruiserweight Title ladder match. “Exactly,” Flesher nods. “He might be able to pass off last week’s loss as a fluke if he bounces back with a win. I intend to make sure he doesn’t, and for all the fact you’re an arrogant little shit, if I were to look up ‘consistency’ in the SWF dictionary I’d probably see a picture of you looking back out at me.” He risks a tight smile, the best he can do for someone who has consistently got on his nerves for the last three years. “I can’t promise anything, but if you beat Zyon tonight, and preferably make him look bad in the process, the Board might start to reconsider. And that can only be good for you, and the buyrates we’ll get from a decent Pay-Per-View match can only be good for me.” “Tom, you’re an interfering bastard with about as much honour as a media mogul,” Toxxic says, without apparent rancour. “You think after all the effort you went to in order to ‘depush’ me, I’m going to wade in and do your dirty work for you on the strength of a half-formed promise and some backhanded flattery?” Flesher just looks at him, waiting. “Of course I’m going to beat Zyon tonight,” Toxxic snorts, “and since I’m not particularly kindly-disposed towards the little bugger, I might well have a bit of fun at his expense while I’m out there.” He levels a black-nailed finger at the Commissioner. “But I’m doing it because I want to, not because you asked me to. Now, are we done?” Flesher nods, and Toxxic rises from his chair before disappearing out of the door. “Consistent… and predictable,” Flesher smile to himself, taking a sip of bourbon. “I don’t care why you do it, as long as you do it…”

"REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!" The crowd rise for the pumping sounds of "Personal Jesus" by Marilyn Manson and the World Heavyweight Champion this music accompanies, Landon Maddix bursting through the curtains without much of his usual pomp or circumstance. Head down, Landon tries to fire himself up as he marches to the ring, not looking forward to his assignment tonight. He needn't look forward. Really, he should have looked back, to MANSON jogging down the aisle with baseball bat in hand... *CLUNK!* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "What the HELL!?" cries Mak Francis, almost coming out of his chair (almost, calm down Skull Radio-ites) as Landon goes barrelling down the aisle from the ball-bat to the back. MANSON continues to stalk over Landon as JJ Johnson follows behind him, not quite so over-eager to attack as his partner apparantly. "Well, a lesson to us all... when MANSON is around, you shouldn't be." "This is ridiculous! Two-on-one isn't bad enough for crying out loud, they have to attack before the bell!?" MANSON drags Landon back up, the World Title falling to the ground as MANSON wields the BUTT of the bat and JAMS it into Landon's jawbone! Into the barricade crashes Landon, where JJ Johnson gets his licks in, putting the boots to the World Champion. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" The crowd try to rally behind Landon, in spite of the fact he's taking another baseball bat shot, to the gut, as we speak! Johnson drags Landon off of the barricade and holds him, for ANOTHER shot with the bat. He then hoists Landon up onto his shoulders and throws him up in the air, DESTROYING him on the way down with the GO 2 SLEEEEEEEEEEP!! "I've got a feeling we're not going to get a match here, King." "So, like the rest of the show?" With Landon out cold in the aisle, referees and officials pile out to try and stop the attack. Too late to prevent MANSON from crossing over Landon's legs, picking him up off the concrete a foot or so, then using a foot of his own to smush Landon's face with the CURBSTOOOOOOOOOOOOMP~! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" The referees and officials finally get in the way, hauling Blood and Thunder off of the World Champion. Johnson grabs the baseball bat and swings it down, just about getting Landon in the back via a deflection off of Sexton Hardcastle's knee. Down goes the ref, allowing Johnson a free shot with the bat before finally the refs get him by the arms and drag him off with MANSON. "Aw, he didn't even get to us MANSONosity!" moans King dejectedly. "Well, somewhere, Tom Flesher is smiling I'm sure." "I doubt it." "The World Champion has been laid out by Blood and Thunder in a frenzied attack! And now, what fate awaits Zyon against Toxxic!? Are we even going to get a main-event at 13th Hour!?"

Backstage we go, to Tom Flesher who's busy filling out some important paperwork (all those double no-shows do not a happy network make!). We can tell it's important due to the full ashtray and the half-bottle of scotch positioned next to Flesher. As Flesher throws another set of papers aside, suddenly his door swings open and his attention is diverted by Landon Maddix, the SWF World Heavyweight Champion dressed ready for his competition later tonight. Flesher narrows his eyes at Landon, who smiles awkwardly. "Hey boss... you look busy." "I am, so..." "Look, I just wanted to clear up any..." Landon hesitates, trying to pick the right words. "...misunderstandings that there may be between us. Clear the air, ya know. You're the boss and I'm the champ and we should really be on the same page, right? For the good of the company. I think we can both agree, that's what we care about the most." "Well, I can." As an awkward silence looms, Landon clears his throat. "Okay. So, I just wanted to come in and make sure we're... cool." "Cool?" groans Flesher. "We don't have to be 'cool' Landon. I am your boss, that is our relationship. We are not, never have been and, I stress, never will be friends." "Oh, I know. It's just..." "Look, can you just get to the point so I can finish this scotch?" "Well, it's about tonight. Not just tonight, I guess, but it's just you've booked me in a Handicap Match with MANSON and JJ Johnson. And, something tells me you're next expecting me to come out of it smelling of roses. Or, able to smell roses. Or even say the word roses, through a wired jaw or perhaps a set of missing front teeth. Let's not beat around the bush, we've got history. Then again, who hasn't around here. But, if this is about Zyon..." Flesher looks up again, with no less destain than before. "...I know he lost to that Jakey kid last week and you weren't happy with me granting him a World Title shot to begin with. But, there's no use us pulling in different directions here. Surely as Commissioner, you should be promoting me and Zyon, working on the positives, ironing out the negatives. Not throwing spanners in the works, putting me in Handicap Matches and putting Zyon up against Toxxic tonight." "If Zyon's a rightful contender, he should be facing the likes of Toxxic." argues Tom. "If Zyon's a rightful contender, you wouldn't feed him to someone liable to cripple him." Landon argues back. "Toxxic has a legitimate gripe about Zyon's eligibility to a World Title shot. He seems to think you picked Zyon as your challenger at 13th Hour simply to spite him." Re-adjusting his title, Landon scoffs. "He shouldn't flatter himself." sneers Landon, before his eyes narrow right back at Flesher. "Besides, since when do you care about what Toxxic has to say. Last I remember, you were demoting him down the card the moment he dropped the World Title!" "Yep." Flesher's forth-comingness seems to un-nerve Landon a little bit. It takes a second for him to realise why, before his eyes creep down towards his World Heavyweight Title. The same title Toxxic had, Michael Stephens had, before his 'diminished role' with the company. And suddenly, Landon isn't talking anymore. "Maybe you should try to bear that in mind next time you try to pull rank on me." Flesher smiles, again a little un-nervingly. "Oh and by the way, since you're the World Champion and all, it's only right I let you know... you might want to put Zyon to the back of your moment for a little while, ready for next week. There may be more 'pressing matters' for you to concern yourself with. Good luck tonight with MANSON and JJ." With a wave of the hand, Tom shows Landon to the door. Landon, rapidly regretting his decision to find the Commish more and more by the second, doesn't think it wise to say much else and quickly skulks off out of the room, leaving Flesher to resume his paperwork. And alcohol.

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon informs us, “And it is for the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” A rise from the crowd emits, because title fights are always exciting … right? “The gold is on the line tonight, King!” Mak Francis yells. Loud, techno music plays as a red flash fills the arena. “Well, earlier, Jakey told SWF.com tonight that he didn’t want to compete with Jimmy’s Druids, so he was gonna bring something of his own tonight!” Mack says to bring the fans up to speed. “Mother of God…” is all Suicide King can say, because up on the entrance ramp, a gallery of dapper, twentysomething James Bond-type men walk down the ramp clad in tuxedoes. “What are they, cater-waiters?” Suicide King asks. “Go get my order, Francis.” “Introducing first, the CHALLENGER…” Funyon begins. Jakey makes his way to the arena wearing a red tuxedo …. With tails, people. “Js he dressed for a title fight or the prom?” Suicide King cries. “The big dance for the Cruiserweight Title!” Mak tries to segue. “From Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing in at 160 pounds, he is THE FABULOUS JAKEY!” “Well, Jakey’s had a very interesting road here in the SWF,” Mak informs us, “He’s certainly advanced to the #1 contendership with a lot of flair, but I’m not sure about skill.” “That’s a good point!” Suicide King says. “I’m impressed by this kid more and more every week, but he’s got to this point by being sneaky and being in the right place at the right time! He’s in a one-in-one environment with the champion now, and you might not know it from the ancy entrances – lucky us, we’ll get another in just a few seconds – there’s gonna be an actual match here tonight, and it’s for the Cruiserweight Title!” Jakey climbs into the ring and removes his tuxedo coat, then signals the closest James Bond Jr. type and hands it to him, giving him a “Thank you” or something. “Jakey not leaving it in the corner tonight!” Mak cries. While Mak goes over the sponsors for tonight’s show, the tuxedo men clear out and Jakey stands in the ring. The arena lights go out and, similar to the gallery of James Bond Lites, out come two columns of hooded druids. “DOOM” they chant. “DOOM DOOM DOOM.” The druids total enough to stretch from the ramp to the entrance ramp, and in a loud silence, they abruptly stop chanting. Boots Randolph’s “Yakety Sax” plays, and the Champion and manager emerge down the ramp. “Making his way to the ring! Being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, from Doomopolis, Doomtopia, weighing at 230 pounds, he is the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION , JIMMY THE DOOM!!!” Lois smiles at Jimmy, clapping for the champ, then takes her place to the side of the ring, while Jimmy climbs into the ring, with the belt worn across his waist like, y’know … a belt. The referee asks for the belt and Jimmy glances at it, then removes it and hands it to the ref. The referee holds it above both men while they stare at each other, and it is here that Jimmy’s height advantage is VERY obvious. The music stops playing and Jimmy smirks at Jakey. Jakey looks away as if he’s about to back up, then SLAPS JIMMY ACROSS THE FACE as the bell rings. “The challenger showing some attitude!” Francis yells. The challenger pays for it, as Jimmy responds by shoving Jakey down on his BUTT and violently kicking him. Jakey backs up into the corner and pleads, and the referee calls for a clean break. Jimmy retreats back into the center of the ring and motions for Jakey to tie up. The angry challenger obliges. Jimmy, with the aforementioned size advantage, gets Jakey in a headlock, then flips Jakey on his back while keeping the headlock. Jakey counters with a leg scissors around Jimmy’s neck, and the holds are broken. The men are \back up to their feet and Jimmy hits Jakey with a sharp clothesline. Jimmy goes off the ropes and while Jakey gets back up, Jimmy hits him with another clothesline. Jakey gets back up and Jimmy hoists him up in the air with an impressive vertical suplex that leaves Lois to applaud. Jimmy picks up Jakey, throws him off the ropes, and scores a beautiful Flying Snap Kick that knocks the challenger down. Jimmy picks the challenger up again, but Jakey breaks any hold and starts scoring lefts and rights that barely register on the bigger man. Jakey runs off the ropes to try to score some momentum, but Jimmy counters it into a powerslam for a ONE— TWO— And Jakey kicks out of it “And Jimmy has really been the aggressor thus far!” Mak tells us. Jimmy throws Jakey into the turnbuckle and runs at him, but Jakey avoids the charge and hits a quick “The roll-up! ONE— TWO—“ Jimmy kicks out of it, but as the men are back up, Jakey reverses things and throws Jimmy into the turnbuckle. Jakey goes for a running charge, but Jimmy kicks him in the face and hits a very quick bulldog. Instead of going for the pin, Jimmy hooks Jakey’s leg and hits a nifty fisherman’s suplex “Jimmy trying to end this as quick as he can! ONE – TWO—“ Jakey kicks out, of course, but is then met with a very stiff kick right to the face that knocks him down and leads the audience to gasp. Relentless, Jimmy gets on top of the opponent and mounts him with hard punches. The ref counts, and Jimmy obliges, stepping off of the opponent. Jimmy yells at Jakey, who only rolls over a couple times, grabbing his face in pain. Jimmy, getting impatient, goes to scoop Jakey up, but instead Jakey scores an “Inside cradle! ONE— TWO— TH—“ Jimmy kicks out at two and a half, and he lividly runs at Jakey, but Jakey dodges it and Jimmy eats turnbuckle, allowing Jakey to jump on his back and reverse backwards to hit another fancy-schmancy cradle “Another one! ONE— TWO—“ Jimmy counters it by kicking Jakey forward, and Jakey is caught between the top and second rope; Jimmy grabs Jakey’s legs while he pleads, and Jimmy ends up hitting a reverse wishbone maneuver , causing Jakey to land HARD on his face “Jakey’s face bouncing off the mat!” Mack cries. Jimmy takes advantage of the situation, grabbing Jakey’s arm back into a unique submission; he pulls Jakey’s upper body fully off the mat, eventually getting him into a surfboard position; Jakey gets his leg on the rope and the referee calls for a break, which Jimmy finally does at four; Jimmy then runs off the ropes and dropkicks Jakey right in the back “And the kick to the spine! The cover! ONE— TWO—“ And Jakey weakly gets a shoulder up Jimmy re-groups and goes for a back drop, but Jakey counters it by flipping over Jimmy’s head, then launches off the ropes and hits his “Springboard bulldog! Out of nowhere! The cover! ONE— TWO—“ And Jimmy kicks out of it; Jimmy gets up and Jakey kicks him in the gut, then scores a hard DDT; Instead of going for the cover, Jakey pulls Jimmy up close to the ropes “And Jakey isn’t know for this! Is the risk worth it?” Mack cries. Jakey goes up top for a Moonsault, but Jimmy, playing possum, puts his knees up and drives them right into Jakey’s sternum “Oh no! Jimmy saw it coming the whole time!” Mack yells. Jimmy gets to his feet before Jakey does, and Jimmy picks Jakey up and launches him into the turnbuckle; Jimmy gets up and raises a fist, causing the crowd to cheer; Jimmy begins to go for a 10 punch ONE TWO THREE FOUR But at four, Jakey gains momentum as he grabs Jimmy by under his hips, and leverages him with a “A powerbomb!” Suicide King cries. “I can’t believe it!” “I didn’t see it coming, either!” Mak Francis yells. “The cover! He’s got his foot on the rope! Hey ref! ONE TWO THR— At three, the referee sees that Jakey has his feet on the rope illegally and he stops counting the pin; Jakey yells at the ref and verbally berates him; Jimmy rolls him up from behind “A roll-up! ONE— TWO—“ Jakey counters it by kicking Jimmy off of him, and Jimmy flies into the official, who cowers; Jimmy puts on the brakes at the last minute, but the referee is still flinching and doesn’t have his eyes open; Jakey turns Jimmy around and hits him with a low blow, then gets a front face lock, launches himself off of the top rope, hitting his SPRINGBOARD DDT And the ref is back to “Not this way! ONE TWO THREE!” Jimmy has a shoulder up, but it’s at about 3.00000001, because the bell rings “DAMMIT!” Mak yells. “Just like his debut!” Suicide King cries. “Here is your winner, and the NEW SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION: THE FABULOUS JAKEY!” Jakey is handed the belt, then runs out of the ring like a scolded dog before a pissed-off Jimmy can attack him; Jakey stands at the top of the ramp and holds the belt up in the air “Well it took a low blow, and a very quick three-count, but Jakey has won the Cruiserweight Title! I can’t believe it.”

Francis: "Welcome back to Storm, and I understand we're getting ready for another tremendous matchup here tonight, but unfortunately I couldn't tell you who is actually supposed to wrestle in this one." King: "All our format here tonight says "a former champion returns", and that only narrows it down to about 6,374 people." Francis: "At any rate, only Funyon knows what's going on here tonight, so let's go up to the ring and get the introductions." Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 10-minute time limit. Currently in the ring, from Beverly Hills, California, and weighing in at 187 pounds ... O.J. Hart! And his opponent..." O.J. Hart grabs the microphone from Funyon. Hart: "I am so excited, you guys! Saturday night, I'm going to do it!" King: "Do what, bore us to death?" Hart: "My girlfriend Shelby totally wants to have sex with me, so we're going to do it at her sorority party this weekend! In fact, ten minutes ago we were making out in her hot tub, and I told her I had to go to the bathroom. But instead I came to wrestle in the SWF! YEAH!" O.J. Hart begins jumping up and down in celebration as Suicide King busts into a laugh at ringside. King: "My God, is this guy legit?" The lights dim, and purple lights illuminate the aisleway. After a few seconds, we hear a familiar track... "Learning to Fly" by Pink Floyd. The crowd actually pops briefly, knowing who is coming to the ring, even though they really don't like him very much. King: "No freaking way!" Funyon: "And his opponent...from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio, and weighing in at 215 pounds...making his return to the SWF after a lengthy absence...the longest reigning International Champion in SWF history...'The Dean of Professional Wrestling'...Jay Hawke!" Jay Hawke makes his way to the ring, ignoring the reaction of the crowd, which is actually not all that negative. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Francis: "Well, you have to admit this is a surprise as we haven't seen Jay Hawke since the Clusterfuck event, but he is back in the SWF where he belongs." King: "And he's taking on...um...is this guy for real? He stopped making out with his girlfriend to get stretched by Jay Hawke?" Francis: "Well, it's Hart's SWF debut. Maybe he's better than you think." King: "I've got to admit I like his passion for wrestling. Apparently the SWF is better than sex." Jay Hawke removes his robe and hands it to the ring attendant, then he turns and simply shakes his head at his opponent. The referee calls for the bell... DING DING DING! ...and we are officially underway. We get a collar-and-elbow tieup almost immediately, and Hawke is quick to turn it into a side headlock before floating behind into a hammerlock. Hawke quickly tightens up the pressure, and Hart quickly makes his way to the ropes to force the break. Hawke breaks, but only after slapping Hart in the back of the head first. Francis: "Some nice chain wrestling by Jay Hawke there." King: "And that self-intimidating slap to the back of the head, just because he can. You gotta love that." They move back into the center of the ring. Again they lock up collar and elbow. Hawke springs into action, taking Hart down with a waistlock, then floating over his back amateur style before once again slapping him in the back of the head. Hawke springs to his feet and extends his arms to the crowd, who boo the arrogance but show some begrudging respect to the Dean of Wrestling. King: "Man oh man, have I missed this man. Give this guy a shot at Maddix now!" Francis: "Shouldn't he have to earn his title shot first?" King: "Screw the title! I just want Landon squealing like a pig!" The two competitors lock up collar-and-elbow again. This time Jay Hawke locks O.J. Hart into a front facelock. Hawke clamps down on it, and Hart's arms go almost immediately limp. Hawke then swings around, taking Hart down with a swinging neckbreaker. Hart clutches at his neck, and the next thing he notices is the leg of his opponent crashing down across his head and neck. Hawke immediately goes into a lateral press: ONE! TWO! Shoulder up. Francis: "Near fall for Jay Hawke, and now he grabs a hold of Hart's left arm and begins to stomp away at it." King: "And if he twists it just right, he'll snap it out of place and we'll hear Hart scream like that Shelby chick he was talking about. That would be quite fun." Jay Hawke drops a leg across the arm, then scissors the left arm. Francis: "Short arm scissors, and this is vintage Jay Hawke here." King: "Locking it on, focusing on the neck and arm. All to set up that Wing Span submission hold that has made a lot of great competitors tap out." Hawke releases the hold, but only so he can pick O.J. Hart up and drive Hart's shoulder onto his knee. Jay Hawke then drives his knee into Hart's shoulder, then stands up, almost as if he's asking his opponent to get to his feet. Francis: "And it doesn't look like Jay Hawke wants to waste any time here at all tonight!" King: "Indeed not. He's ready to put it away right here!" As Hart stands up, the Dean locks in a crossface chickenwing, then uses his legs to scissor the free arm of his opponent. Hart screams in pain and immediately screams "I Quit" as Jay Hawke yanks back further on it. DING DING DING! Jay Hawke releases the hold, and O.J. Hart crumbles to the mat, clutching at the shoulder as if in the worst agony he could ever experience. At least until Shelby has sex with him. Funyon: "The time of the fall, two minutes 15 seconds. The winner of the match...JAY HAWKE!" "Learning to Fly" plays over the PA again, and the crowd, bored of the one-sided affair, sits on their hands at the decision. Jay Hawke simply makes the "I want the belt" pantomime before staring down at his opponent and giving him an arrogant kick to the head for good measure. Francis: "An easy victory for Jay Hawke here in his return to the SWF after a four month absence, and he's made his goal clear. He wants a shot at the title." King: "Which title does he want? And does it matter? This man is capable of winning any championship he gets the shot at." Francis: "Plenty more action still to come, so don't go away."

“OK guys, I’m glad you could make it. Thanks for coming.” There are four people in the locker room, and two of them are related. Toxxic is sitting comfortably, resting against the wall with a can of Coke in his hand (possibly the same one from earlier, unless he’s got a deathwish for diabetes). Beside him sits his sister Amy, who’s holding a can of Stella Artois Belgian lager and only looking half-interested in events - but that’s not surprising, given her brother’s involved and there’s no sign of a fight just yet. The other two people in the room are rather different, both in build and demeanour. “So, you wanted to start Revolution Zero up again,” Austin Sly says, absent-mindedly rolling his bulky shoulders, “and you wanted me involved.” The musician is no longer showing the signs of steroid use that featured prominently at one point of his SWF career, the muscle on his frame now seeming natural. He looks at Toxxic carefully, perhaps remembering the powerbomb he took on concrete from Sean Davis during the stable’s first run. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.” “Sly, you and I have never really crossed paths much,” Toxxic admits, “but you’ve always had a lot of potential that never seemed to go anywhere. A Cruiserweight Title run, a USJL run… more than some people, I’ll grant you, but nothing that really reflects what you’re capable of.” The Englishman switches his attention to the room’s last occupant. “Jakey… well now, you’re someone who reminds me of me, back when I started out. Only you cheat more,” the straight-edger adds as a qualifier as The Fabulous Jakey smirks back at him. “Anyway, I think you’re one of the brightest stars rising in the SWF, and I’ve always tried to help developing talent where I can; that’s why I was a mentor to Scott Pretzler and JJ Johnson when they started out.” “So what’s the plan this time around?” Sly asks, “you want a couple more foot soldiers while you try and rule the fed again?” “Hardly,” Toxxic grins before taking another swallow of Coke, “I’m intending to have a bloody laugh.” There is a moment’s pause while Sly and Jakey look at each other. Then they realise who they’re exchanging glances with, and look back at Toxxic. “Right, hear me out, OK?” Toxxic says, crumpling up his can and throwing it with expert practice into the nearby trashcan. He returns his full attention to the other two and spreads his black-nailed hands. “I’ve done pretty much everything around here, right? And I’ve come to the conclusion that, over the years, I’ve been taking things a little bit too seriously. All this obsessing over wins and losses and whatnot, it can’t be healthy. So,” the Straight-Edge Sensation continues, “I’ve decided that what I really want to do is amuse myself and do the things I’m good at. And what I’m really good at,” he adds with a grin, “is pissing people off.” “So why do you need our help for that?” Jakey asks. Toxxic’s grin widens. * * * “OK, we’re going to need some ground rules,” Toxxic says as he, Jakey, Austin Sly and Amy Stephens sit around in the locker room. “Number one, no-one touches Jakey’s jackets.” “But they suck!” Sly protests, pointing at the lime-green koala-print one currently adorning the shoulders of The Fabulous One. Jakey looks thoroughly offended. “I’m not asking you to wear one Austin,” Toxxic reminds him, “just… it’s a case of live and let live, OK? Second, no-one touches Amy’s beer-” “Fuckin’ right,” Amy backs him up, stifling a belch. “-because believe me, it won’t be a case of ‘live’ or ‘let live’ if you do,” her brother finishes. “Thirdly, no-one touches Sly’s guitar.” “Including him?” Jakey asks hopefully, clearly not a fan of the musician’s output in his other career. Now it’s Austin Sly’s turn to glower at his new stablemate. “Fourthly, and most importantly of all,” Toxxic’s voice cuts over Jakey and the Englishman now seems completely serious. He stares at each of the new arrivals in turn. “No-one is at all, ever, at any time, or in any way, shape or form… to allow Gloria Estefan to be played in a Revolution Zero locker room.” Sly and Jakey stare open-mouthed for a moment. “Why the hell would you need to specify that?” Sly asks, bewildered. Toxxic sighs, and a ghost of half-remembered pain flits across his face for a moment. “Clearly, you’ve never tagged with Landon Maddix…”

FADE IN The Four Norsemen already stand in the ring as Storm returns from commercial. “Welcome back to Storm,” says Mak. “And we’ve got a special attraction here tonight, as Wild and Dangerous, the World Tag Team Champions, will try to buck the odds, as they face the Four Norsemen in a four-on-two handicap match! Let’s go to Funyon!” DING! DING! DING! “The following handicap match is scheduled for one fall!” booms Funyon. “Currently in the ring, at a total combined weight of nine hundred seventy-four pounds, here are Rik Fleihr, Arne Andersen, Olaf Andersen and Tolland Blankhardt… the Four NORSE-MEN!” The Norsemen go over a final bit of strategy as their music fades out, soon to be replaced by “Starsky and Hutch,” by LL Cool J and Busta Rhymes. YEAAAAAAAAAAH! The Ecuadorian fans go crazy as Wild and Dangerous make their way out to the ring. “Their opponents,” booms Funyon, “have a total combined weight of four hundred thrity-nine pounds! Here are the SWF World Tag Team Champions: WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Johnny and WC enter the ring simultaneously and each head over to a corner of the ring, where they scale the turnbuckles to face the crowd. They then hop down into the center of the ring and surrender the title belts to Herrington, who holds them aloft to display to the crowd as “Starsky and Hutch” fades out. “This could be a real test for the Champions,” says Mak, as Johnny exits to the apron. “Four on two is never good odds!” “They are if you’re a Norseman!” counters King. Herrington motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! Olaf makes his way towards Wildchild, but WC isn’t even paying attention to him; instead, the Bahama Bomber is staring in bewilderment at the lights. “What the hell is he looking at?” wonders King. Olaf finally gives in to curiosity and looks up to see what the fuss is about… WHAM! … And eats a standing dropkick for his troubles! WC beats Olaf to his feet and delivers another dropkick that sends the Norseman over the top rope and out of the ring! “He suckered him!” shouts King. “I can’t believe that Wildchild would resort to goldbricking like that!” Arne runs into the ring, but WC hooks his arm underneath Andersen and takes him over with a hiptoss! Tolland Blankhardt runs into the ring, but he eats a hiptoss as well! Rik Fleihr slips into the ring and tries surprise Wildchild with a clothesline, but the Caribbean Cruiser easily ducks underneath and grabs him by the side of the head as he bounces off the ropes, leading him across the ring… CRASH! … And pitching him over the top rope down onto Olaf, just as he gets back to his feet! “Wildchild is cleaning house!” exclaims Mak. “He’s taken out all four Norsemen!” WC runs over to Arne and traps him in a side headlock. He waits for Tolland to get back to his feet, and then leaps into the air, locking his ankles behind Tolland’s head, and trapping him in a vertical headscissors while still holding on to the headlock; he then shifts his weight to the side, taking Andersen and Blankhardt head over heels at the same time! Johnny enters the ring as Andersen and Blankhardt get to their feet, and the Tag Team Champions knock both men out of the ring with a set of stereo dropkicks! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “The Four Norsemen are going to have to go back to the drawing board,” says Mak, as Fleihr gathers the Norsemen outside the ring. “They let the champs draw them into their style of match, and that’s a losing proposition!” “Positively,” agrees King, as Johnny returns to the apron. “They’ve got to regroup!” After their powwow on the outside of the ring, Olaf Andersen gets back into the ring; he circles around Wildchild, forcing the Tropical Tumbler to keep track of him, turning his back on the rest of the Norsemen. “Who’s the legal man?” wonders King, as Arne climbs up onto the apron. “Is it Arne, or is it Olaf?” Arne sneaks back into the ring and heads over to attack WC… WHAM! … Only for the Bahama Bomber to spin around at the last second and nail the Enforcer between the eyes with a hard right hand! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! The crowd cheers as WC begins hammering Arne repeatedly in the face, but his assault is brought to an abrupt end, as Olaf Andersen delivers a driving kneelift into Wildchild’s back! “I guess it was Olaf!” says King with a shrug. “And that was beautiful teamwork by the Norsemen; they played Wildchild like a fiddle right there!” Olaf makes the tag to his brother Arne, who quickly steps in and grabs Wildchild by the wrist, whipping him across the ring and lowering his head as WC rebounds, sending him high overhead with a big back-body drop! “Big back-body drop!” says King, as Arne begins to stomp WC in the chest. “Andersen sent him into orbit with that one!” Arne pulls WC to his feet and lifts him into a sidewalk slam position before bringing him back down onto his outstretched thigh with a pendulum backbreaker! Andersen quickly applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild kicks out at two! Arne pulls WC to his feet and leads him over to his corner and makes the tag to Tolland Blankhardt. Red Herrington begins to administer a five-count as Blankhardt both grab WC around the throat and heave him forcefully into the turnbuckles! Andersen exit to the apron as Blankhardt begins to kick WC repeatedly in the midsection. Tolland then pulls him out towards the center of the ring and captures him in an arm-trap bearhug before hauling him overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex! Blankhardt quickly pops to his feet and measures Wildchild for an elbow drop! Upon landing, he reaches over to hook WC’s leg as he applies a half-hearted cover: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild gets the shoulder up! Nonplussed, Blankhardt pulls him to his feet and leads him over to the corner, where he makes the tag to Andersen. Tolland holds WC’s arm back, exposing his ribs as Arne returns to the ring and delivers a stiff kick to that very same area! Arne grabs WC by the neck and takes him over with a snapmare; he then jars Wildchild’s spine with a tremendous punt kick! Andersen pushes him down to the canvas and applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Andersen pulls WC up at the last second! “It looks like the conference that Fleihr initiated outside the ring involved having Blankhardt and Arne Andersen taking over the bulk of this match,” remarks Mak. “Well, they’ve probably got the most experience of any other combination of the Norsemen,” explains King. “Those two have actually had success outside of the Norsemen, competing in territories around the world, and winning several championships as a team!” Arne grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite corner. He runs to the ropes as WC bounces off the turnbuckles and leaps into the air to deliver a flying shoulderblock… But he takes a header into the canvas instead, as Wildchild ducks out of the way! WC rushes out to the apron and waits for Arne to get back to his feet before leaping onto the top rope; the Human Hurricane springs from the top rope, flipping forward as he extends both feet, and knocks Andersen back down with a Shooting Star missile dropkick that sends him rolling over by the ropes! “Shooting Star missile dropkick!” shouts Mak. “That’s the first real offense that Wildchild has shown in several minutes, but he needs to make the tag! WC decides to take a risk, and pulls Andersen to his feet, grabbing him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Arne still has the presence of mind to reverse; Andersen bellies out against the canvas as WC rebounds and runs over the top of him, but Tolland Blankhardt drives a knee into Wildchild’s back as he tries to rebound a second time! WC staggers off the ropes bent over, giving Andersen a chance to floor him with a charging kneelift to the face! Fleihr then steps into the ring to goad Johnny into coming in after him, and forcing Red Herrington to order him back out again. “There’s the numbers game coming into play right there,” says King, as Arne and Tolland take advantage of the distraction to grab WC and whip him across the ring into the turnbuckle; Tolland then grabs Arne by the wrist and whips HIM into the corner, to blast Wildchild with a running lariat! Andersen grabs WC by the back of the head and leads him forcefully back towards the center of the ring… CRACK! Right into a Tolland Blankhardt lariat! Andersen exits to the ring apron as Blankhardt applies a cocky pin, stepping on Wildchild’s chest: ONE! TWO! THR— Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Blankhardt pulls WC to his feet and then lifts him overhead in a military press position! “Look at the power display by Tolland Blankhardt!” marvels King, even as Blankhardt struggles to keep WC overhead. “That’s two hundred and fourteen pounds that he’s throwing around like a sack of potatoes!” “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he’s ‘throwing him around,’ King,” counters Mak. “He’s barely even got him up there!” Blankhardt dumps WC to the mat before the Bahaman can think of a counter. He then heads over to his corner and quickly tags Andersen back in. Arne heads to the ropes, running directly towards his partner as he rebounds, who snatches him up into his arms and tosses him into the air, giving Andersen a little more altitude as he comes crashing down onto WC with a flying splash! CRASH! … But Andersen crashes into the canvas, as WC rolls out of the way at the last second! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Nobody home!” shouts Mak. “And I think that Tolland Blankhardt may have made a mistake by tagging Arne Andersen back in so soon!” Blankhardt charges towards WC, who uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet; the Tropical Tumbler sees him coming at the last split-second and falls to the canvas… pulling the top rope down with him! CRASH! The fans cheer enthusiastically as Blankhardt stumbles over the top rope and out of the ring, down to the arena floor! WC then wastes no time in taking the fight to the disoriented Arne Andersen, hammering him repeatedly in the face with piston-like right hands! He pulls Andersen to his feet and backs him up against the ropes; he grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Arne still reverses easily. He extends his arm to deliver a clothesline as WC rebounds, but the Caribbean Cruiser ducks underneath and runs past him, leaping onto the top rope as he approaches the edge of the ring and curling into a ball as he springs back towards his opponent, knocking Andersen off his feet with a Pinball attack! “Look at Wildchild go to work!” shouts Mak. “He’s really done a job on Arne Andersen since he’s managed to take Tolland Blankhardt out of the picture!” “This is the best chance he’s got at making the tag,” says King, “so he’d better not waste it! If he hasn’t tagged out before Blankhardt gets back on the apron, he’s got no chance!” WC quickly exits to the ring apron and heads to a neutral corner, leaping onto the top rope and measuring Arne as he flies back into the ring to drive a fistdrop right between Andersen’s eyes! He hooks the leg as he applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Andersen kicks out at two! WC pulls him to his feet and leads him over to a neutral corner. He straddles the middle ropes and begins to deliver a ten-count punch; the fans chant along with his punches: ONE! TWO! THREE! Blankhardt climbs back onto the apron… FOUR! Blankhardt rushes across the apron to stop Wildchild… FIVE! CRASH! Suddenly the Human Hurricane stops what he’s doing and leaps over the top rope, extending his body to slam into Blankhardt with a high cross-body block, catching the bigger man off-balance and knocking them both off the apron; WC lands atop Blankhardt as they crash to the arena floor! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Tremendous move by Wildchild to catch Blankhardt off-balance!” exclaims Mak. “That’s the risk that you take when you run across the apron like that!” “Why won’t he tag?” asks a bewildered King. WC hammers Blankhardt in the face with hard right hands until he notices Andersen staggering around the ring; he quickly climbs back onto the apron and leaps onto the top rope. Wildchild springs into the ring, grabbing Arne by the neck as he flies overhead and driving him into the canvas face-first with his patented flipping neck snap! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Whiplash!” shouts Mak, as WC spins his hands overhead. “Arne Andersen is down! And Wildchild just gave the sign for the Falling Star Press!” Wildchild scampers towards the edge of the ring and leaps back onto the top rope, flipping in a forward motion as he springs back into the ring to crash into Andersen with his patented Falling Star Press! “There’s the Falling Star Press!” shouts Mak. “This could be it!” ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Blankhardt dives into the ring at the last second and breaks up the three-count! “Man!” exclaims Mak. “Wildchild was so close!” Wildchild exits to the ring apron as Red Herrington orders Blankhardt to return to his corner; he climbs to the top turnbuckle and waits for Andersen to get back to his feet before diving into the ring, grabbing Arne in a waistlock as he flies overhead and pulling him into a Sunset Flip! ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Andersen kicks out just before the three-count! WC pulls Andersen to his feet and whips him across the ring, but the Enforcer easily reverses; he lowers his head as WC bounces off the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber leaps over his easily… SWAT! … And finally makes the tag! Johnny comes in as a house afire and levels Andersen with a clothesline! Olaf comes into the ring… WHAM! … And the Barracuda snatches him up and drives him down into the canvas with a powerslam! He quickly gets to his feet as Fleihr comes into the ring and lifts him into a bearhug, before slamming him down onto his outstretched thigh with an inverted atomic drop… CRACK! … And then knocks him down with a Scorpion Kick! “And now Johnny’s taken over!” exclaims Mak. “Wildchild had it going with finesse moves at the beginning of the match, but Johnny Dangerous is obliterating the Norsemen!” Johnny lifts Olaf onto his shoulders and rolls forward, driving the Norseman into the canvas with a rolling Fireman’s carry!” “Spinal Explosion!” shouts Mak, as Olaf rolls out of the ring. Fleihr gets to his feet, just as the Barracuda rushes over to him and knocks him over the top rope and out of the ring with a lariat! He pulls Arne to his feet and whips him into the corner, but Andersen leaps onto the middle ropes; he springs back into the ring to catch Johnny unawares, but the Barracuda snatches him out of midair and powers him back into the corner! “Tremendous power display by Johnny Dangerous,” says King, “as he drives Arne Andersen back into that corner!” Johnny continues to pound away on Arne with heavy forearm shots; then, thinking that perhaps his partner has recovered enough, he walks across the ring and tags WC back in. “Now I’m going on record with this,” says King. “I think this is a mistake! Johnny should not be trying to bring Wildchild back into the ring so soon!” Johnny tags WC back into the ring and leads his young partner over to the neutral corner; WC grabs Johnny by the wrist and whips him across the ring before Johnny reverses, giving WC some extra momentum as he hurtles into the corner to deliver the Blue Crush! CRASH! … But WC crashes face-first into the top turnbuckle as Tolland leaps up out of nowhere and pulls Arne out of the corner at the last second! Johnny holds his face in frustration and shame; angry at himself, knowing that he just put his partner in jeopardy! “Johnny Dangerous might have just cost his team the match,” Suicide King says. “Wildchild was in no condition to take that tag, but you know he’d never refuse it.” “Maybe so, but for now it looks like both men are down,” replies Mak, dripping with hope. Johnny is forced to exit to the apron and watch as his partner lies motionless on the canvas alongside Arne. Herrington, observing the situation himself, finally begins the dreaded count out. “ONEEE!” “TWOOO!” Nothing has changed in the ring. However, outside the ring, and more importantly in the stands, the fans have begun a chant for Wildchild. “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “THREEEEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “FOOOOUUR!” “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “FIIIIIIIIVE!” Finally, there is some movement. Unfortunately, it’s Arne Anderson who dazedly makes it up to his feet first. His teammates are shouting for him to come make the tag and it looks like he could very well make it to his corner before Wildchild can even get up. He staggers a step forward, and that’s about the exact time when a raging cheer comes down from the crowd as the Bahaman finally moves himself. “About time we saw some life from the Wildchild,” the Franchise says. “He better move quickly though, Anderson could have a tag before he can get halfway towards his corner!” Johnny frantically hollers for his partner to get moving; seeing the situation about to get worse for the Wildchild he knows he can’t blame anyone for the situation except for himself. However, he knows exactly what his partner is capable of and overcoming against all odds is what he’s made his career out of. Still, when Tolland makes accepts the tag from Anderson and proudly steps through the ropes with the other Norsemen patting him on the back he knows he has to react fast. “Come on, Nic!” the Barracuda shouts as he frantically pounds the turnbuckle post! Wildchild pushes up to his hands and knees, and then up to his feet before taking two lanky steps forward and… *WHAM!* …getting leveled with a lariat from behind at the hands of Tolland Blankhardt! He places one foot on the Bahaman’s back and flexes, which nabs a horrendous amount of boos from the crowd, along with some words beginning with “F” and “You” from the Barracuda. “TOLL-AND SUCKS!” “TOLL-AND SUCKS!” “TOLL-AND SUCKS!” “Tolland Blankhardt is showing absolutely no respect for his opponents,” Mak grumbles. “He’s lucky his team is still in this one – he’d be wise to finish the battle that he can finish without flaming any more fires.” “Hey!” Suicide King snaps. “If you want to blame someone look no further than the man standing in the Wild and Dangerous corner. He could have kept himself the legal man and finish this one, but instead he chickened out and turned to his weakened partner to finish the fight! If Blankhardt wants to boast a little I think he’s earned that right.” “What exactly did he earn? It was handed to him on a silver platter!” Spoon fed the obvious victory or not, you can bet your bottom dollar that everyone watching worldwide remembers this day, and Tolland Blankhardt was about to make sure of it! He reaches down and grabs Wildchild by the back of his neck, pulling him to his feet before tossing him towards the ropes like a rag doll! *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *BAM!* Tolland’s elbows go flying into the Bahaman’s skull, knocking what few screws remained loose and leaving Wildchild reeling on the ropes! He turns towards his corner and happily pumps his fist…then turns towards the crowd and holds up his hands to each side of his heads to make a horn motion with his fingers! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “That’s the signal for the Long Bearded Axe!” shouts King as Tolland motions at the ropes on the same side as Johnny Dangerous “It’s a slingshot suplex that’s hella nasty! He’s going to make sure the Barracuda gets a good eyeful of it too!” “Johnny better do something quick!” shouts Francis, but the Barracuda is two steps ahead of him. He quickly unties the tag rope from the turnbuckle, just as Tolland grabs WC in a side head lock, drapes the Bahaman’s free arm over his shoulder, and grabs his tights! In two seconds the Norseman will have WC up in vertical suplex position, which happens to be the amount of time it takes Dangerous to quickly retie the tag rope to the ring ropes. “Who the hell does he think he is; Mcguyver?” “It just might work!” Tolland falls forward, sending WC chest first onto the top rope! Usually he’d use the momentum of WC rebounding to send him the opposite direction as he falls forward, but not this time. As WC hits the ropes Johnny latches onto him, keeping his partner from going anywhere, and with the tag rope in hand Herrington has no choice to signal for the legal tag! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” “He found a way back into the ring!” Mak excitedly shouts as Tolland looks up in a complete state of shock! Johnny reaches out and grabs Blankhardt by his skull and then drops to the floor, clotheslining the Norseman with the top rope! Johnny slides back into the ring as Tolland staggers to his feet, clenching his neck… *CRACK!* …and eats a spinning heel kick! As expected, the other Norsemen can’t simply watch on the apron like a good rule abiding team, and they all head in to take the Barracuda down! Arne closes in on Dangerous first, attempting to knock Johnny senseless with a big time lariat… *WHOOSH!* …but that goes sailing over Dangerous head; Arne’s arm just barely grazes the Barracuda’s jet black mane in the missed attempt. He tries to turn back towards his opponent only to eat a boot to the face, knocking him into the ropes, and tumbling over the top when WC comes in and shoves him in the chest! “And now the referee has totally lost control of this match,” says King. “Everyone is in this thing!” Olaf tries to avenge his brother but he only eats a super chicklet buster for his troubles! He staggers back, teetering on the brink of falling down until Dangerous grabs him by the back of his head and runs him to the edge of the ring, and over the top rope! “JOHNNY!” WC shouts at his partner, after booting Fleihr in the gut, sending all of his wind gushing out of his lungs like a geyser. Johnny turns around and WC sends Fleihr towards him via an Irish whip, and the Dangerous ducks down and rises up to send Fleihr for a back body drop over the top rope, and crashing into the Olaf Anderson below! *WHAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Finally, Wildchild exits to the apron. He sees Tolland rushing towards his partner, but exiting to the apron is merely giving Dangerous enough space. He knows the Barracuda has this one scouted, and as Johnny Dangerous pivots on one foot and spins around, he ducks to shoot Tollands leg. “He’s going for –” shouts Mak, and Johnny lifts Tolland off the mat, looking for the MI Slam! “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-” Mak yells. *SLAM!* “Tolland has got to be done for,” Mak says, but the Barracuda doesn’t follow through with a cover as most all in attendance would have predicted. Instead he rolls up to his feet and heads to his corner, stepping up onto the middle ropes before tagging his partner back in. “What in the hell are these two up to now?” asks Suicide King. “Johnny could have already ended this one – there just trying to humiliate the Four Horsemen now!” “Possibly,” Mak returns, “but they might also be giving the Norsemen too much time to recover. Wild and Dangerous just might have let a surefire pin and victory slip past them…again!” The mere thought of Wild and Dangerous falling to their predominately curtain jerking opposition is enough to get Suicide King’s wheels a spinning. He couldn’t have asked for better ammunition to fire off at this team than that. On the outside of the ring the Andersons have both made their way up to their feet, albeit a little slow initially, but after peering into the ring they know they have to get their asses into gear. Wildchild, with the thunderous approval of the crowd, has climbed to the top of the ring post…and from their to Dangerous’ shoulders! “Tell me he wouldn’t” “Sorry, but he would,” Francis answers, and with that, Wildchild springs off the Barracuda’s shoulders, back-flipping himself into the ring. Flashbulbs explode. The multicolored lights hanging at the top of Coliseo General Rumiñahui shine down as Wildchild floats gracefully through the air, performing a perfect Shooting Star Press as time seems to stand still. He positions himself, making sure he is perfectly aligned, chest-to-chest, and finally lands square on Tolland Blankhardt, squashing the Norseman like a bug. *WHAM!* “SHOOTING BAHAMAS PRESS!” screams Mak Francis, as Wildchild bounces off Tolland from the impact and the crowd lets out a booming cheer. “He just came down from twenty…thirty feet into the air!” “The Bahama Bomber might have taken a chunk out of himself with that move,” Suicide King says. However he can soak up the pains that come with the impact, especially when a victory is at stake, and he quickly scrambles back over his opponent for the cover. As expected, Herrington is there to make the cover… “Tully is certainly done for now,” says Francis. “His only hope is the Andersons…and here they come now to break up the pin!” ONE! Olaf and Arne head across the ring, their eyes focused solely on Wildchild and more importantly, on saving the match. Unfortunately… TWO!! They didn’t look to see the Barracuda positioned on the turnbuckles for this exact reason. He was more than ready, and when they headed into the ring is when Johnny Dangerous leapt into the air- *WHAM!* -and the Barracuda takes both the Andersons down with a double diving lariat, soaring overhead of the pin and referee on his way to colliding with both men. Herrington never misses a beat, nor do the fans! THREE!!! *DING DING DING!!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” Wild and Dangerous’ entrance music comes thumping across the arena as Herrington grabs one arm of each man and raises it in victory. “Your winners of this bout,” Funyon bellows. “The current and reigning SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS; WILD! AAAAAAAND DAAAAAAAANGEROUS!!!” “What a way to kick of the night,” Francis happily says. “Wild and Dangerous just came out victorious in a two on four handicapped tag match, beating the Four Norsemen in quite the fashion after a shaky middle half of the match!” “I guess this might quite and rumblings from this stable about a tag title shot,” says King. “All four of them lost at once - they need to turn in their boots!” “It couldn’t be any worse than Asia Undergrounds title shot grumblings,” says Mak. “Anyway, we’ve got some exciting action coming up tonight, so stay tuned!” Wild and Dangerous head towards the backstage curtains, with their glistening gold championships strapped around their waist. Before disappearing for the night, they turn back towards the Ecuadorian crowd and salute them… As we: FADE OUT.

Insane Luchador vs. Austin SlyGuy

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Presents... SWF STORM! Live, Thursday, May 3rd, from the Coliseo General Rumiñahui in Quito, Ecuador! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MAIN EVENT Toxxic vs. Zyon --> Zyon got cocky with Landon Maddix at ringside last week, and in the end it cost him. Talented as he is, it would appear that The Unique Youth still has a thing or two to learn if he hopes to come out successful at 13th Hour - and we can think of no better teacher than a main event mainstay like Toxxic! Rules: Standard singles match. HANDICAP MATCH JJ Johnson and MANSON vs. Landon Maddix --> Flesher made it clear that he's not thrilled about the prospect of Maddix vs. Zyon, and as he said - a lot can happen in six weeks. Things are in motion, things that might not be clear now, but that require Landon Maddix to be at something less than the top of his game. Rules: MANSONOSITY in together. SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Jimmy the Doom vs. The Fabulous Jakey ---> Maybe it was luck, maybe it was skill, maybe it was a cold calculated plan - whatever the reason, Jakey picked up a big huge MASSIVE win over Zyon, the man set to challenge for the World Championship at 13th Hour! I see big things in Jakey's future, and one of those big things just might be the Cruiserweight Title! Another of those big things could be a defense against Wildchild! The Bahaman Bomber has yet to receive his rematch for the Cruiserweight title - an oversight we will be fixing next show! Tonight, Jimmy and Jakey battle for Cruiserweight Gold, and whomever walks out with the belt will have a date with the Wildchild in one week's time! Not like a real date, though. Unless you want it to be. Rules: Standard, with Cruiser addenda - outside count to 20, no throwing over the top rope. SUPER COOLS HANDICAP MATCH Wild and Dangerous vs. The Four Norsement ---> In the spirit of keeping people polished and at the top of their game for things to come, Wild and Dangerous take on the unique challenge of a two-on-four tag team spectacle! Wild and Dangerous are one of the most dominant teams we've ever had, but can even they survive these odds? Rules: Two Norsemen in at a time, they can tag out whenever they please. Standard tag otherwise. SINGLES MATCH Insane Luchadore vs. Austin Sly ---> Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting! Rules: Standard singles. PLUS! - Rumors are swirling backstage that a big name SWF'er will be returning soon! Guesses have run the gamut from Ted Flink to... actually, everyone's just guessing Ted Flink... who will it be? Tune in to Storm to find out! NEXT WEEK: Wildchild gets his Cruiser Title Rematch! And OTHER THINGS! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Presents... SWF STORM! Live, Thursday, May 3rd, from the Coliseo General Rumiñahui in Quito, Ecuador! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MAIN EVENT Toxxic vs. Zyon --> Zyon got cocky with Landon Maddix at ringside last week, and in the end it cost him. Talented as he is, it would appear that The Unique Youth still has a thing or two to learn if he hopes to come out successful at 13th Hour - and we can think of no better teacher than a main event mainstay like Toxxic! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 HANDICAP MATCH JJ Johnson and MANSON vs. Landon Maddix --> Flesher made it clear that he's not thrilled about the prospect of Maddix vs. Zyon, and as he said - a lot can happen in six weeks. Things are in motion, things that might not be clear now, but that require Landon Maddix to be at something less than the top of his game. Rules: MANSONOSITY in together. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Ace309 SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Jimmy the Doom vs. The Fabulous Jakey ---> Maybe it was luck, maybe it was skill, maybe it was a cold calculated plan - whatever the reason, Jakey picked up a big huge MASSIVE win over Zyon, the man set to challenge for the World Championship at 13th Hour! I see big things in Jakey's future, and one of those big things just might be the Cruiserweight Title! Another of those big things could be a defense against Wildchild! The Bahaman Bomber has yet to receive his rematch for the Cruiserweight title - an oversight we will be fixing next show! Tonight, Jimmy and Jakey battle for Cruiserweight Gold, and whomever walks out with the belt will have a date with the Wildchild in one week's time! Not like a real date, though. Unless you want it to be. Rules: Standard, with Cruiser addenda - outside count to 20, no throwing over the top rope. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Muzz SUPER COOLS HANDICAP MATCH Wild and Dangerous vs. The Four Norsement ---> In the spirit of keeping people polished and at the top of their game for things to come, Wild and Dangerous take on the unique challenge of a two-on-four tag team spectacle! Wild and Dangerous are one of the most dominant teams we've ever had, but can even they survive these odds? Rules: Two Norsemen in at a time, they can tag out whenever they please. Standard tag otherwise. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 SINGLES MATCH Insane Luchadore vs. Austin Sly ---> Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting! Rules: Standard singles. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Justice PLUS! - Rumors are swirling backstage that a big name SWF'er will be returning soon! Guesses have run the gamut from Ted Flink to... actually, everyone's just guessing Ted Flink... who will it be? Tune in to Storm to find out! NEXT WEEK: Wildchild gets his Cruiser Title Rematch! And OTHER THINGS! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=- I am a humongous ass for the lateness. Show postponed a day to make up for it, and I will do everything in my power short of selling my soul to Satan to make sure the next card is ready at least a day in advance. I am not worthy.

While I'm sorting out the mess I made with the card, I want to open up two topics for discussion. 1. By my probably inaccurate count, we have roughly 6 reliable showers, and 6 not entirely reliable showers but for better or worse we need them around, for an "active" (I use that term loosely) roster of about a dozen people. For which five titles is entirely too many. CC's been trying to come up with contenders, and we're having a hard time with so few people, and since everyone has already faced everyone else in recent weeks. So, the question: should we merge or retire any of the titles we currently have, in order to try and build a little more action around the titles we would keep? 2. Given that I'm having a hard time finding matches for people they haven't already had in the past three weeks, I'd like to toss Raynor back into the fray, if only to add another name to the roster and provide a fresh opponent for people. Of course, a booker/marker being active opens a massive Conflict of Interest argument, so I wanted to toss the idea out to you guys and see if you'd be OK with it. And feel free to suggest any/all safeguards we could use to make sure I don't award myself every title ever. Speak!

So this means JJ and I don't have to tag out? Yessir.

The Wildchild Championship?

Spike turns the big 2-0 today~!

It's here. Requests for amendments/changes/additions, gimme.

Yes, and my sincerest apologies to all. It's been a rotten two days. If you'd like all the gory details, hit me up on AIM - suffice it to say that I think God doesn't want me to finish this card. Which isn't going to stop me.

“Welcome back to… wherever the hell we are this week…” “Mak Francis, goodwill ambassador to Latin America!” Suicide King says, giving the camera two thumbs up. “Hey, I’d like to see you do the pronunciations,” Francis grumbles, then brightens. “Anyway fans, we’re back here LIVE~, and coming up is the main event which sees Jimmy The Doom go head-to-head with Mi- excuse me, with Toxxic. King, your predictions?” “Toxxic pasted Doom when they met for the World Title,” the Gambling Man says simply, “I can’t see a different outcome for tonight. Mainly because Toxxic’s awesome, and Doom sucks guanaco wang.” “Guanaco?” “Just getting into the spirit of things, Mak.” ‘DOOOM!’ ‘DOOOM!’ ‘DOOOM!’ The lights drop out and two lines of hooded figures start to march down the entrance ramp, chanting as they come. The local fans don’t seem too sure what to make of them, but the druids pan around the ring until they completely encircle the competition area. Then, with them all in position the music suddenly changes and ‘Yakety Sax’ by Boots Randolph starts to pump out of the speakers! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms as Jimmy The Doom and Lois The Unethical appear at the top of the entrance ramp. “Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Lois The Unethical; from Doomopolis, Doomtopia, he weighs in tonight at 230lbs and is the SWF Cruiserweight and Hardcore Champions; this is ‘The Straight-Bread Sensation’, JIMMY… THA… DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” Doom waves his hands at the fans, then takes off his lime green stovepipe hat and waves that around as well. Meanwhile Lois stumps down towards the ring beside her husband, knitting needles keeping her bun of hair in place (and also some knitting, as Lois combines practicality with style). The fans respond positively, although the ones nearest Jimmy look rather confused because no matter how many times you see the Doomtopian on TV, his physical presence still comes as something of a shock. “Jimmy The Doom was unable to get to the arena last week-” “Arena? Pfah!” “-to compete against Danny Williams,” Mak Francis continues, glaring sideways at King, “although Williams was similarly delayed. Accordingly, I expect Jimmy will be well-rested for tonight’s encounter. On the other hand, Toxxic hasn’t competed since that barnstorming win over Danny Williams at From The Fire!” “He was rehabbing a concussion,” Suicide King explains as Jimmy starts mounting the steps to the ring (before Lois reminds him that such an action isn’t suitable for TV, so he starts climbing them instead), “you can’t expect him to wrestle with a concussion, can you?” Doom steps through the ropes and shakes hands fulsomely with Brian Warner, who eyes him warily due to the fact that Jimmy attacked the referee with a herring prior to his last match with Toxxic. However, that particular Doomtopian purification ritual is apparently only necessary for World Title matches and Warner escapes without fish abuse. “I still can’t believe they put this moron in the main event,” King sighs, “what the hell has this place come to?” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” Every light hits full, the Smarktron whites out, and the oozing bassline of ‘The Gush’ by Raging Speedhorn starts to fill the arena. The Smarktron fades back down to black, and as it does so jagged white letters flash up a familiar phrase, one word at a time: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ Three chords ring out and the Smarktron shows Toxxic being knocked from the top rope by a Nathaniel Kibagami springboard enzuigiri… then taken off the top rope with the Mark Of The Beast by Gabriel Drake… then chokeslammed out of the Clusterfuck by Janus. Finally the shot changes to Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Stephens Shock Syndrome, the picture starting to strobe and intercut with an image of his smiling face, the devastating impact timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!* -stagewide explosion of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman (and incidentally igniting a couple of druids, who run around in circles before falling off the stage in flames). “Jesus, you’d have thought they’d have learned from last time,” King comments. And through the flame and smoke… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …lopsided grin plastered across his features… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …red-and-black canvas trenchcoat swirling around him… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …comes the man known as Toxxic. “And his opponent,” Funyon booms, “accompanied to the ring by his sister Amy Stephens; from Nottingham, England, he weighs in tonight at 218lbs; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” ‘Dysfunction is my game These thoughts drive me insane Tell me the price, of which I have to pay…’ Toxxic veritably swaggers down the ramp, baiting the fans with a smile on his face, then pausing at the bottom to cross his arms briefly in the straight-edge ‘X’ before throwing them wide, palms flat to the floor, to ignite another blast of red pyro from the top of each ringpost as the chorus roars in! *BOOOM!* ‘GIVE ME THE PRICE AND I’LL TAKE NO BLOOD YOUR SON OF ANGEL…’ The Straight-Edge Sensation rolls into the ring, pops up to his feet and strips his trenchcoat off with a flourish, then throws it over the top rope. The England soccer shirt with ‘sXensational’ as the player name follows it a moment later, Toxxic electing not to send it into the crowd on this occasion. Brian Warner, who has already checked Doom, approaches the Englishman and pats him down to check for foreign objects but predictably finds none. With that over the referee backs away and calls for the bell. *DING-DING-DING!* Doom advances towards Toxxic, clearly eager to close with the devious and dastardly Englishman, and Toxxic meets him halfway to slam into a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Jimmy tries to bear Stephens down towards the mat using his leverage, but Toxxic smoothly slides out to the side and takes Doom’s arm with him to apply a hammerlock. Once behind the Doomtopian Toxxic kicks him in the back of the knee to bring him down, then leaps up and dropkicks Jimmy in the back of the head! Doom is blasted forwards and down into the canvas; he manages to avoid hitting as hard as he might by bringing his left arm up to cushion the impact, but that doesn’t help him much in the long run as Toxxic springs back up, runs to the ropes and rockets off to smash a basement dropkick into the side of Doom’s head! *CRACK!* “Jimmy’s head is harder than most, but that’ll scramble his brains!” Mak Francis notes clinically. “What brains?” King snorts. Toxxic pounces on Jimmy before the Doomtopian can properly recover and grabs a front facelock, then drags Doom up to a standing position and extends his right arm out to the side while grinning widely. However, this Business is destined to remain Unfinished because as Toxxic twists and brings his arm down to complete the elbow-drive bulldog Jimmy shoves him away, then as Stephens turns back towards his opponent Doom jumps up to his a dropkick of his own! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic hits the mat, but recovers and comes back up to his feet quickly - however, not quickly enough to evade a corkscrew flying elbow, as Jimmy charges at him and leaps into the air to take the Englishman down again! The crowd roars in approval once more, and this time Toxxic is slower to his feet. Jimmy grabs the four-time World Champion and hooks him up for a suplex, then brings the straight-edger up and over with a standard vertical that dumps him down onto his back. Jimmy didn’t become a double champion by passing up the chance of a cover so he makes one, hooking the leg as he does so… ONE! TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out moments after the referee’s hand goes down for a second time, and a swift and easy victory escapes Jimmy. The Straight-Bread Sensation hoists his Straight-Edge counterpart up off the mat and positions himself behind Toxxic, then takes the Englishman’s head between his hands and starts to squeeze! “Head Vice here from Jimmy The Doom,” Mak Francis notes. “It’d be a little more impressive if it came from someone who didn’t have the muscle tone of a rubber band,” Suicide King replies disdainfully, commenting on the fact that Jimmy The Doom appears to be the offspring of toastracks and pipe cleaners. “Well, yeah,” the Franchise admits. Sure enough, Toxxic seems more perplexed than agonised by the apparent submission he’s in - it’s uncomfortable, but hardly likely to force a tap out. So he reaches up two black-nailed hands and starts to try and prise Jimmy’s hands loose. Doom does his best to maintain his grip but the Englishman manages to free himself, then twists around whilst maintaining a hold on his opponent’s wrists. This ends up with the two men facing each other, their arms crossed, and Toxxic wrenches Jimmy towards him into the headbutt that he usually uses to set up his goku-raku neckbreaker- *CRUNCH!* -unfortunately Doom’s head is rather harder than Toxxic anticipated, and instead of following up as planned the Englishman simply staggers back a step holding his head, while Doom does the same! “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” Doom recovers first and charges Toxxic, but the Straight-Edge Sensation comes to his senses a split second later and has good enough reactions to take Jimmy down with a drop toehold. He tries to transition this into the Regal Stretch, but Jimmy’s able to use his ludicrously long reach to shuffle towards the ropes and clamp his hand around one in short order. Brian Warner comes in and orders Toxxic to break, which the straight-edger does with bad grace. “Well King, I’ve yet to see much evidence of a ‘pasting’,” Mak Francis comments. “Toxxic’s coming into this match at a disadvantage, he’s been out of competition since From The Fire,” King complains, “a little ring rust is only to be expected!” “You know he’d kill you for making excuses for him, right?” Toxxic honours the break, but not really the spirit of things as he waits until Jimmy is upright before charging back in and delivering a stunning European Uppercut while Doom is still in contact with the ropes. The force of the blow is perhaps a little mitigated by Jimmy’s height advantage, but it staggers the Doomtopian and Toxxic simply follows up with one, two, three right hands to the skull that knock Doom along the ropes into the corner. Once there Toxxic takes Jimmy’s wrist and goes to Irish whip his opponent across the ring, but the double champion reverses the momentum and sends Toxxic towards the far buckles instead… only for the straight-edger to vault athletically to the top rope before corkscrewing back with a flying clothesline to take Doom off his feet! Then, to add insult to injury, the smirking Englishman kips up! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Now that’s good!” King exclaims, clapping, “nothing like a Role Reversal to brighten the day!” “Oh, he’s good alright,” Mak Francis agrees, “but he’s also an arrogant asshole who’s completely forgotten about the spirit of competition he personified only a couple of months ago.” Toxxic drops into a crouch, waiting for Jimmy to get back to his feet; he doesn’t have long to wait, the tough Doomtopian fighting his way back up very quickly. However, once back to a vertical base Doom suddenly finds two arms encircling his chest, as Toxxic grabs him then hoists him up off the mat before kicking out his legs and dropping down with a Sambo Slam! *BANG!* “Side Effect!” Mak Francis shouts. Jimmy does a fairly good impression of a flipped turtle as his arms and legs wave vaguely without any great effect, the breath knocked from the Doomtopian’s lungs by the force of impact. Meanwhile, Toxxic has picked himself up again and heads for the turnbuckles where he vaults to the top rope in one jump again, then leaps back and off to drop a closed fist right between Jimmy’s eyes! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “That’s a good way to break your hand,” Francis comments as Toxxic rubs his fist thoughtfully after landing. “As long as he breaks Jimmy’s head first,” King replies. “I know what my money’s on.” Toxxic is nothing if not stubborn, and the Englishman doesn’t seem willing to give up on his plan yet so he heads back for the turnbuckles once more. He vaults up again and leaps back to land another fistdrop on the skull of Jimmy The Doom, much to the displeasure of the crowd! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Once more the straight-edger shakes his hand out, and once more he gets up and heads back towards the corner. However, this time Toxxic seems content to shake things up a little and while he still vaults fluidly to the top rope, this time he pauses for a moment and stands straight atop the ringpost, inviting the jeers of the crowd with a familiar lopsided grin on his face, then leaping off backwards to corkscrew through the air and transition into the Hangover… *BANG!* -which Jimmy dodges! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Toxxic went to the well once too often,” Mak Francis shouts, ignoring the fact that wells are rarely found above ground level, let alone in mid-air, “and this is Doom’s chance to capitalise!” “That was a freak muscle movement that send Doom rolling away,” the Suicide King splutters, “he was writing in pain from Toxxic’s previous attacks! That was not a deliberate dodge!” Regardless, Jimmy has got an opportunity to get back on the offensive, and the Doomtopian realises it. With Toxxic trying to stagger back to his feet nursing a numbed (yet stinging) hip, the resilient Hardcore and Cruiserweight Champion gets up to a vertical base himself, then advances on the immobilised Englishman and delivers a palm thrust to the jaw! *SMACK!* “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” Toxxic staggers back, but Jimmy follows up with another- *SMACK!* -that sends his opponent stumbling into the ropes, then grabs Toxxic and Irish whips him across the ring. Toxxic still seems to be having some mobility problems and there’s a noticeable limp as he bounces off the ropes - this may explain why Jimmy is able to catch him with a flying front snap kick that blasts the former World Champion in the chest and lays him out on the mat! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Jimmy drops to make the cover and Brian Warner follows him down to count… ONE! TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out! “You’re going to have to do more than that!” King shouts at the lanky double champion. “Perhaps, but it’s worth noting that Jimmy has made two covers so far, whereas Toxxic has made none,” Mak Francis points out as Doom takes hold of his opponent and starts to haul him upright. “It’s the final cover that counts,” King sniffs. Jimmy has Toxxic by the head and takes this opportunity to send a couple of straight kicks into his opponent’s stomach, winding the straight-edger still further. He then twists Toxxic around and grabs a reverse facelock before leaning forwards and cradling the Englishman’s near leg. From there Doom hoists his opponent up into the air before dropping backwards to spike him on his head with the Doom Driver! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” And Jimmy goes for that final cover! ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Toxxic kicks out again! However, Jimmy was decidedly closer to the three this time, as witnessed by the sigh of disappointment that ran around the arena! The Doomtopian looks at Brian Warner just to check, but the referee remains adamant and waves for him to continue. Jimmy grabs Toxxic accordingly and starts to bring him up; however, Toxxic turns the table by grabbing Doom’s head in both hands, positioning his skull underneath Jimmy’s jaw and then sitting out with a jawbreaker! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jimmy staggers backwards but Toxxic is holding his own head, clearly still in pain from the Doom Driver as well as Doom’s hard jaw. The straight-edger slowly topples backwards until he’s prostrate on the mat again, and Jimmy gets the chance to recover before advancing on the Englishman. However- *whump-CRACK!* -it appears that Toxxic was not quite as hurt as he made out! “Kip-up enzuigiri,” Mak Francis calls, “and Toxxic suckered Jimmy into that one!” Doom topples forwards while Toxxic shakes his head as he lands on the mat; although he was playing possum a little, it’s also clear that he’s not firing on all cylinders yet. As a result it takes him a couple of seconds to recover, and by that time his resilient Doomtopian opponent is starting to get up as well. Toxxic doesn’t intend to let Jimmy get his bearings back though, and he grabs Doom’s head from behind before twisting Jimmy around and down to smash his face into one knee- *CRUNCH-WHAM!* -before grabbing a front facelock and falling backwards with a DDT! “Now that’s a Sobering Thought!” King shouts with malicious glee as Toxxic rolls Doom onto his back and makes a cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Jimmy kicks out well before three! Toxxic simply hauls Doom into a sitting position, then quickly gets onto his backside behind Jimmy and threads his legs up beneath Doom’s arms to apply a double-leg nelson on his opponent. Doom struggles, but his arms are trapped high and ineffectual as Toxxic rests back on his elbows, waiting for the weardown hold to take effect on his opponent and soften up Jimmy’s neck. “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “I’ve got to say King, I wasn’t expecting Toxxic to resort to this against Jimmy,” Mak says, “I’d have expected him to maximise his speed advantage.” “Oh, what, you think Doom’s going to out-wrestle him?” King snorts, “come on, Francis. Toxxic may not be Flesher, or even Jay Hawke, but he’s got this moron completely outclassed on the mat.” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” The crowd are getting behind Doom in a vocal fashion, but of more consequence to the Doomtopian right now is the fact that Toxxic is behind him in a physical fashion, and has him trapped in a hold to boot. For his part Toxxic seems content to rest up for the moment and gradually try and straighten his body to exert more pressure on Doom’s neck as he bends the double champion forwards… but he’s reckoned without the extreme resilience and resistance to pain of Doomtopia’s favourite son! “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” With the crowd fuelling his fire Jimmy braces his legs against the canvas and starts to push backwards, seeking to fight against the pressure! Toxxic manages to hold on for a couple of seconds, but then Doom’s determination starts to prevail and Jimmy starts to straighten his body, forcing Toxxic back as he does so. As the Englishman starts to bend double his shoulders start to come into ever closer proximity to the canvas as Jimmy seeks to turn defence into attack! “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” …but Toxxic has an answer to that and laces his fingers together, then simply pastes Doom in the top of the head with a double axe handle! The impact jolts Jimmy and causes him to slacked off on the pressure for a moment - a moment that’s enough for Toxxic to twists his body sideways and haul Jimmy after him, ending up on his front but with Doom stacked on his shoulders for a pin! ONE! TWO!! …but Jimmy somehow manages to roll out backwards and escapes! Both men scramble to their feet, trying to be the first one to gain the advantage of a vertical base; Toxxic gets their first and quickly closes on his gangly opponent, then lashes out with a RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! Windup… DISCUS CLOTHESLINE… …ducked! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic staggers as the momentum of his non-connecting move carries him off-balance, but worse is to come because he turns around to find Jimmy in the closing stages of his own discus move - the Discus Headbutt! *CRUNCH!* “Toxxic’s down!” Mak shouts as Doom’s cranium sends the Englishman sprawling, “and yet again, Jimmy The Doom shows why he is not an opponent to be taken lightly!” “There’s no way someone 6’5 can be only 230lbs!” King shouts, eager to capitalise on anything he can, “Doom can’t be Cruiserweight Champion! Award the belt to Toxxic!” Doom staggers to a halt and shakes his head to clear it, then focuses on the stunned Englishman and scoops him up off the canvas before whipping Toxxic into the far turnbuckles. Toxxic hits hard and the breath blasts from his lungs, but worse is to come as Jimmy mimics putting a telephone to his ear, then charges across the ring like a hyperthyroid stork in the process of getting airborne! He crashes into the Englishman, snares him by the head and falls back to take the smaller man over with a headlock takedown. “That’s the 73.5267.1094Q80.16, and Jimmy’s dialling home!” Mak Francis shouts. The Suicide King just looks at him in disgust. “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” Doom gets back to his feet and heads for another turnbuckle, then steps to the outside and starts to climb. However, he only gets halfway up before Toxxic struggles to his feet and runs at the Doomtopian, firing right hands upwards to cut him off! “Toxxic beat Jimmy last time with a Stephens Shock Sydrome off the top rope,” Mak Francis exclaims urgently, “and Doom could be in a sticky situation once more!” Sure enough, Toxxic is climbing up after his lanky opponent and continuing to rain punches up (if one can rain upwards) at Jimmy. The Englishman gets to the second rope and then starts trying to grab a double underhook, perhaps seeking to win this match the same way he won the last one, but Doom wriggles free and fires a palm thrust into Toxxic’s ribs. Toxxic winces in pain, but fires back by grabbing Doom’s moustache and using it to pull the double champion into a sickening headbutt! *CRUNCH!* Both men waver, but Toxxic recovers first… and leaps up to wrap his legs around Jimmy’s head, then backflip and haul Doom off the top rope to the mat with a super hurricanrana! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “High risk lives up to its name sometimes Francis,” the Suicide King proclaims, “and it’s only worth playing the odds if you come out on top as often as Toxxic does!” The Straight-Edge Sensation takes a few seconds to recover from the disorientating ride he just sent himself one, but once he starts to push himself up he quickly realises that Jimmy The Doom is still down and hurting. This seems to give the straight-edger a new lease of energy and he drags Doom up off the mat, then suddenly throws himself into a drop toehold that sees Jimmy end up strung throat-first over the second rope! Toxxic picks himself back up before raising his face to the skies… ‘OH! ONE! ONE! FIVE!’ …and with that the Englishman charges towards the far ropes, bounces off with even greater speed and hurtles back towards the prone Doom… …drops into a baseball slide and skids under the bottom rope to the arena floor… …then turns around and nails Jimmy with a European uppercut before posing ‘for’ the fans. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Is 0115 the dialling code for Nottingham, England?” Mak Francis asks wearily. “I believe it is,” King replies with a certain amount of smug satisfaction. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Toxxic climbs back up to the apron, then grabs onto the top rope. Jimmy has rolled away from the ropes after that European uppercut and Toxxic seizes his chance by pulling back on the cable, then slingshotting himself into the ring to deliver a hilo to the downed Doomtopian. The Englishman rolls through and up to his feet, then immediately backflips to land a standing moonsault! *WHAM!* Brian Warner drops to make the cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Doom kicks out! Toxxic doesn’t seem that distressed, so he starts pulling Jimmy up to a vertical base once more, only to slap on a front facelock and this time deliver the Unfinished Business (without any showboating, just to be on the safe side). *BANG!* Toxxic rolls Doom over into a pin, and Warner makes the count again… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Jimmy still kicks out! Toxxic looks a little less pleased at his opponent’s resilience this time around and casts a glare at Brian Warner, but the referee is quite clear on his count so the straight-edger hauls Jimmy up off the floor… and places him in a ¾ facelock. “They’re expecting good weather in Nottingham!” King calls, making a rather forced pun on the name of the move. …a pun which is justifiably punished, as Jimmy shoves Toxxic away from him and prevents the Sunny In England from being executed! Toxxic turns back to try and regain the advantage, but simply eats a Yak Kick! *CRACK!* ONE! TWO!! TH- -but the Straight-Edge Sensation kicks out! “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “Jimmy The Doom has turned this around again, but can he capitalise?” Mak asks. Jimmy seeks to answer that question as he hauls Toxxic up and places the Englishman in an armwringer, then lands a kick to the stomach that doubles the former World Champion over. From there Doom nails a knee to the face, then two quick kicks to the back of Toxxic’s leg that buckles the straight-edger’s knees and bring him down into the perfect position for Jimmy to lash out with a long leg in a roundhouse kick to complete the Doomsday… …that Toxxic ducks… …and the Straight-Edge Sensation brings Jimmy over into a schoolboy! ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Doom still kicks out! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Jimmy doesn’t want to lose the initiative so he surges back to his feet, faster than Toxxic who is still dazed from the lead-in to the Doomsday, and nails Toxxic with another kick while the Englishman is still trying to rise. Doom then brings him up and shoots him off the ropes, measures the rebounding straight-edger and then lunges for the Jimmy-plex, swinging around and launching Toxxic overhead… *whump* …but Toxxic instinctively flips through and lands on his feet! However, he’s too disorientated to follow-up immediately and Jimmy regains the upper hand by delivering the Hand of Doom, then grabs Toxxic by the throat with both hands and lifts for the Jimmy Bomb… …but Toxxic plants his feet into Jimmy’s chest, grabs his opponent’s arms and throws his weight backwards to turn it into a monkey flip! *BANG!* “Jimmy just can’t land that last, telling blow!” Mak shouts, “Toxxic’s fighting a rearguard action, but he’s holding Doom off!” Jimmy gets back up to his feet after the monkey flip and once again charges in to try and regain the advantage… but this time he acts a little too recklessly. *CRACK!* “Soccer tackle!” King shouts as Toxxic dives to the mat and slices Doom’s shins from under him, “Toxxic for England!” Toxxic shakes his head to clear the remnants of his wooziness, then hauls Doom up off the mat. The Doomtopian lists to one side as Toxxic places him in a front facelock, then reaches through to hook one of Doom’s long legs… “Caffeine Bomb?” Mak asks. That’s surely the intention, but Jimmy has other ideas. The Doomtopian suddenly stands firmly and rams a palm strike into Toxxic’s ribs, then a second, and when Toxxic’s grip loosens Doom extracts his head from his opponent’s grasp before securing his own front facelock and dropping Toxxic with a DDT! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “It looks like Toxxic’s not the only one who can play possum,” Mak Francis exclaims as Jimmy head for the turnbuckles, the leg that seemed barely able to support his weight a moment ago now being used to walk with barely a limp, then start climbing towards the top rope, “Jimmy’s going up high!” “It didn’t work before, it won’t work now!” Suicide Kings shouts as Jimmy heads towards the top, “it won’t work!” Jimmy gets to the top rope and stands up. “It won’t work!!” Jimmy leaps off, somersaulting through the air and coming down with Jimmy’s Jump, the devastating flipping headbutt- *BANG!* -that Toxxic dodges by rolling to one side. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Yes! I told you!” King screams. Jimmy The Doom landed hard, with most of the impact on his head. Doomtopian or not, that’s going to stun you for a while. Long enough, in this instance, to be hauled up to your feet by a grim-faced English straight-edger, have two arms wrapped around your torso, then get planted into the canvas with the second Side Effect of the night. *WHAM!* “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Toxxic gets back to his feet and heads for the turnbuckles himself. He hasn’t got the energy to leap athletically up as he did earlier in the evening, but Jimmy currently has little in the way of conscious thought or breath in his lungs. He’s not going anywhere. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Not in the time it takes Toxxic to get to the top rope, anyway. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” So the Straight-Edge Sensation takes a deep breath, then jumps off into the air, flipping backwards as he goes and coming down with one leg outstretched… *WHAM!* …to land it across Jimmy’s throat. “INGLORIOUS!” King roars as the shooting star legdrop hits home. Toxxic rolls on top of Doom and Warner dives to count… ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms, “the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Jimmy The Doom came so close, so close, but Toxxic picks up the win,” Mak Francis says sadly. “Fans, that all we’ve got time for on Storm, but make sure to tune back in next week!” FADE OUT © 2007 Acid Rayn Productions for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation ‘Raising Workrate By Typing Faster’

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Presents... SWF STORM! Live, April 25th, from the Anthony Nesty Sport Arena in Suriname! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Toxxic vs. Jimmy the Doom ---> Doomscription pending. Rules: SINGLES MATCH "The Beast" Gabriel Drake vs. "Disney Sponsored" Alan Clark ---> I admit it. I just booked this because of its hilarious style clash. Rules: Standard singles. TAG TEAM MATCH Wild and Dangerous vs. Blood and Thunder (MANSON and JJ) ---> Finally it's time for our Tag Team Champions to get back to tagging! Now if only there were more teams around... well, at least one team is! Rules: Standard tag. Use the tag ropes, or a hungry unicorn will be set loose at ringside. ZYON vs. JAKEY - TAKE TWO Special Commentator: Landon Maddix ---> We've used plane delays too much... this time, it was an escaped manatee that caused horrible rush hour traffic, resulting in Zyon and Jakey missing their last show. So tonight it's a do-over, with an added twist! Landon Maddix and Zyon shook hands last show, all but cementing their intent to have a World Championship Match at the next PPV! Tonight, as Zyon takes on this impressive newcomer, Landon will be ringside to offer his thoughts on the match - and on his future opponent! Rules: Standard singles. Landon may write, if he wishes. FIGHT TO THE DEATH... OK MAYBE NOT DEATH... "Trademark" Tad Michaels vs. JRR ---> JRR puts his winning streak to the test against newcomer "Trademark" Tad Michaels! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Drake vs. Clark =

“Welcome back to Storm, everybody!” says Mak Francis. “And coming up next, we’ve got Wild and Dangerous taking on Blood and Thunder, in what has apparently become a title match! As earlier tonight, the Champions, unbelievably, agreed to put their belts on the line in what was originally supposed to be a non-title match!” “A very unconventional turn of events here tonight,” adds the Suicide King. “It’s not very often that you see anything like that. But Wild and Dangerous wants to prove that they deserve to be the champions, and they’re willing to defend the titles against anybody. It remains to be seen whether or not that’s actually a good idea!” “Well, we know that MANSON is just coming off a tough loss last week to Big Bully Bruner,” says Mak, “and he’s definitely going to want to get back on track, and there’s no better way to get on track that to win a title in an opportunity like this!” “Well, they’re definitely a good matchup for the Champions,” says King. “They’re fast enough to keep the two pretty boys in front of them, and they’ve got enough power to give them a long night, but I’m inclined to think that experience and teamwork are going to prevail in the end.” “We’ll know here in a few minutes,” says Mak, “as we send it up to Funyon in the ring!” DING! DING! DING! “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “this contest is for the SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP!” YEAAAAAAAAAAH! The lights suddenly dim and the speakers are overwhelmed by the guttural, distorted warbling of Cephalic Carnage’s “Scientific Remote Viewing.” Strobe lights pulse as well as they can in the outdoor arena, as smoke billows out from the stage area. The Nesty erupts in a chorus of boos as the curtain parts and out walk MANSON and JJ Johnson. “This has got to be a little disorienting for MANSON,” notes King. “I mean, he was getting cheered in Peru just last week, and now he’s getting booed like crazy here in Suriname!” “Well, look who he was in the ring against,” replies Mak. “That Bruner is one bad dude. Not only that, but this time he’s actually partnered up with JJ Johnson, who doesn’t resemble a crowd favorite in any way, shape or form!” “Introducing first,” booms Funyon, “the challengers! At a total combined weight of four hundred fifty-eight pounds, here are MANSON and JJ Johnson, the team of BLOOD AAAAAND THUNDER!” MANSON and JJ enter the ring, with Johnson stepping between the ropes as MANSON slides underneath the bottom. Johnson flexes his wrists as MANSON gets back to his feet, raising the bat over his head with one hand as he removes his mask with the other!” “I don’t know if they’re going to be capable of winning the Championship here tonight,” says Mak, “but they definitely look ready!” Referee Red Herrington walks up to MANSON and demands that he remove his metal bat from the ring; the Savage Messiah nonchalantly flips his bat over the top rope, nearly hitting the ring attendant in the head! He then removes his cloak and also tosses it over the top rope, as his music fades out. The crowd begins cheering loudly, however, as it is soon replaced by the sounds of LL Cool J and Busta Rhymes’ “Starsky and Hutch.” Wild and Dangerous step out onto the stage and salute the crowd. “They love Wild and Dangerous here in Suriname!” shouts Mak. “Well, I’m sure they love one of them, anyway,” snipes King. “They probably just tolerate the other one!” Wildchild and Johnny slap hands with the fans at ringside as they make their way towards the ring. “And their opponents!” says Funyon. “At a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-nine pounds, here are the SWF World Tag Team Champions… WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Johnny and WC enter the ring simultaneously and each head over to a corner of the ring, where they scale the turnbuckles to face the crowd. They then hop down into the center of the ring and surrender the title belts to Herrington, who holds them aloft to display to the crowd as “Starsky and Hutch” fades out. “This should be a real barn-burner,” says Mak, as Johnny exits to the apron. Across the ring, MANSON steps out onto the apron as Herrington motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone,” says Mak, “and we’re underway!” Wildchild and JJ Johnson meet in the center of the ring for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and WC quickly takes advantage, hooking his arm underneath JJ Johnson’s arm, and ripping his opponent through the air with a lightning-quick armdrag! JJ Johnson gets back to his feet and locks up again, only to be taken down with a second armdrag! “JJ Johnson is feeling the effect of Wildchild’s patented armdrags!” says Mak, as WC shifts to an arm wringer. “He snaps you over so quickly with those, it’s almost like a body slam!” Johnson negotiates his way to his feet and stuns Wildchild with a kneelift to the midsection. He lifts Wildchild over his head, but the Bahama Bomber wriggles out of his grasp and lands on his feet behind his opponent. The Caribbean Cruiser traps JJ Johnson in a waistlock and pushes him towards the edge of the ring; Mr. Cold Front Classic grabs onto the top rope to keep from getting pulled into a rollup, but the Tropical Tumbler handsprings back to the center of the ring. JJ Johnson charges towards him, arm raised to deliver a clothesline, but WC drops down to the canvas in a split to avoid his opponent easily; Wildchild quickly pops to his feet and evades him with a blind leapfrog, and then hops off the canvas to catch JJ Johnson as he rebounds a second time, planting his feet in the Canadian Murder Machine’s chest and locking his hands behind the Johnson’s neck as he arches back to take the jobber over with a Freefall monkey flip! Johnson scrambles over to his opponent and tags in MANSON, who rushes towards WC, only to get taken over with a second Freefall! “Wildchild’s got a two-for-one special going on in the ring!” chuckles Mak, as WC drags MANSON over to his corner. “He’s practically giving them away!” Wildchild tags Johnny into the ring and the two partners whip MANSON across the ring, leaping into the air as he rebounds to level him with a double-dropkick! Johnny takes over the onslaught as WC rolls out of the ring, hammering MANSON with clubbing forearms. “Johnny is definitely the power man of the team,” says Mak as Johnny grabs MANSON by the wrist, “and his strength can make if difficult for opponents to scout these guys.” Johnny whips MANSON across the ring, but the Raging Bull reverses, sending Johnny into the ropes instead; the Barracuda leaps onto the middle ropes and feints a rebound cross-body, causing MANSON to belly out against the canvas, unaware that Johnny is measuring him as he gets to his feet… WHAM! .. Before leveling him with a flying lariat! Johnny pulls MANSON back to his feet and drags him back over to his corner, where he tags WC back in; the Barracuda takes MANSON over with a snapmare as Wildchild leaps back into the ring and runs to the ropes, picking up speed as he rebounds and blasting MANSON in the face with a running basement dropkick! “Wild and Dangerous’ teamwork has been immaculate thus far,” says Mak. “This could be a long night for Blood and Thunder!” “Or a very short one,” replies King, as WC pulls MANSON to his feet. He runs to the ropes to prepare for an attack, but JJ Johnson drives a knee into his back from the outside of the ring! WC turns around to confront him, which gives MANSON the opening to floor WC from behind with a clothesline! “An opening!” shouts Mak. “This could be the opportunity that the challengers need!” MANSON tags Johnson back in, and then holds Wildchild from behind while Johnson delivers a boot to the midsection! JJ Johnson pounds Wildchild from overhead with a battery of forearm smashes, and then scoops him up for a slam! He tags MANSON back in and whips WC across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, sending Johnson into the ropes instead, and leapfrogs Mr. Cold Front Classic as he rebounds, watching as he collides with his partner at full speed! “The challengers tried for some double-team action, but Wildchild was too fast for them!” shouts Mak. WC leads MANSON over to his corner, where he makes the tag to Johnny. WC whips MANSON across the ring and bellies out against the canvas as Johnny leapfrogs to avoid him; he then bellies out as MANSON rebounds a second time, and Wildchild leapfrogs to avoid him. The Human Hurricane then bellies out once more, and MANSON steps over him as he bounces off the ropes a third time… WHAM! … Into the waiting arms of the Barracuda, who scoops him off the canvas, spins sharply on his heel, and plants him into the canvas with a ferocious powerslam! “Awesome double-team by Wild and Dangerous!” shouts Mak. “MANSON didn’t know whether he was coming or going! That’ll definitely knock the starch out of you,” says Francis. Johnny quickly dives in to make a cover and Herrington slides in, counting for… ONE! TWO! NO! MANSON suddenly rolls his shoulder off the mat, saving himself for the time being. It doesn’t matter too much to the Barracuda…if Blood and Thunder want more he can certainly dish it out with the best of them. He reaches down and pulls MANSON up and with the challenger still reeling from the powerslam, he doesn’t get much hesitation nor does the Raging Bull seem ready to mount any counteroffensive! “MANSON must still be feeling the effects of his match with Mister Bruner last week,” says Mak. “He’s not fighting back at all; it’s almost like a living, breathing punching bag!” It’s not everyday that you can get the better of someone like MANSON, especially to this degree; opportunities like this don’t come often and Johnny knows he can’t hog all the fun by himself and so he grabs MANSON by his arm and whips him into the Wild and Dangerous turnbuckle! *CRACK!* MANSON goes into the steel post back-first and then Johnny runs in, leaps up and sandwiches the Savage Messiah between him and the ring post with an avalanche! MANSON staggers out of the corner as Johnny reaches over and tags Wildchild in. The Bahaman steps through the ropes and then grabs one arm of MANSON’S while Johnny takes hold of the other to send the Raging Bull across the ring with an Irish whip. MANSON hits the far ropes and comes back as Wild and Dangerous step in to take the Generic to the mat with a double hip toss… but MANSON suddenly leaps up and knocks both men down with a double lariat! “Uh-oh!” shouts Mak. “Wild and Dangerous had better hope that they can recover quickly; MANSON looks like he’s caught a second wind, and he’s not a guy that they want to get going!” MANSON is hurting but he knows he doesn’t have much time to react, so he quickly hops up and heads for his corner to tag his partner in! Johnson comes in quick, stepping through the ropes like somebody just lit a fire under his ass! He heads for Johnny since he’s the first up and blast the Barracuda in the face with a series of right hands! He can only hope that it’s enough to knock some of his bearings loose because he boldly takes the Barracuda by the back of his head and quickly leads him across the ring before tossing Dangerous out of the ring, over the top rope and to the floor! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” As Johnson clears the ring MANSON heads for the corner post. Johnson then turns his attention towards Wildchild; He pulls Wildchild to his feet but by this time WC has had ample time to recover and he greets Johnson with a headbutt! Both men drop to their knees as MANSON tries to put the drop on the Bahama Bomber. “Well, Wildchild appears to have blocked the Doomsday Device,” says Francis, as Mr. OSITY steadies himself atop the turnbuckle, preparing to take flight, “but MANSON is still in a good position to it a top rope maneuver! If he lands this, it could still spell disaster for Wild and Dangerous… and I think this crowd knows it!” As locked in as MANSON is on Wildchild, he barely gets a glimpse of Johnny Dangerous from the corner of his eye before the Barracuda grabs his foot and pulls it off the turnbuckle to send the Raging Bull into the turnbuckle crotch-first! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” “My sentiments exactly,” King says. Wildchild is back up to a vertical base in time to see MANSON straddling the turnbuckle with his mouth gaping wide open. Johnson can see that his opponent’s attention is distracted and he takes it as his open opportunity to attack. He quickly hops up, steps forward and grabs around the Bahama Bomber’s waist from behind, looking for a suplex, but Wildchild quickly swings an elbow into the Canadian Murder Machine’s forehead to end that thought; he quickly spins around and trips Johnson up with a double-leg takedown. “What do you suppose is going on here?” Mak wonders aloud, as WC grabs both of JJ’s legs, and silently cues Johnny out on the apron; the Bahama Bomber locks his hands underneath Johnson’s legs and falls backwards, launching JJ up off the mat and roughly onto his stomach with a slingshot! Seconds later, Johnny pushes MANSON from behind, pitching him into the ring with a Rocket Launcher splash, and knocking him into Johnson’s exposed back! “Wow!” exclaims Mak, as WC rolls MANSON out of the ring. “The Champs are really doing a number on JJ’s back!” Herrington admonishes WC as Johnny climbs into the ring; he drags Johnson over towards the edge of the ring and lifts him up, dangling him by his upper body over the top rope as he hangs onto his legs. “Uh-oh,” says Mak, as WC suddenly takes off running across the ring, “I think we know what’s coming next!” Johnny lowers his head as Wildchild vaults over his shoulders… SPLASH! “-And crashes down onto Johnson’s back with a Slam Dance!” shouts Francis. “Blood and Thunder is in serious trouble now.” Johnny exits to the apron, leaving Wildchild to make a cover on Johnson as the referee drops and counts for: ONE! TWO! NO! Johnson brings his shoulder up off the mat to end the count. He rolls onto his stomach and begins pushing up off the mat, trying to get back on his feet, but the Bahaman backs up into the ropes and comes back in, dropping a knee directly into the small of Johnson’s back! “It doesn’t look like Wild and Dangerous want to keep the pressure on Johnson’s back and keep him off his feet,” says Mak. “Which is a smart move on their part,” Suicide King adds in. “Johnson is a one man wrecking machine if he gets going and he can’t do that lying face-down in a state of constant misery.” Still, Johnson might have gotten knocked back down again but it isn’t like him to stay down and take a beating, after all…he didn’t win two straight Coldfront Classic Tournaments without being able to stay in the fight against the best. Once more the Canadian Murder machine starts to shove up off the mat, getting up on his knees as Wildchild makes his way back in for another shot… *CRACK!* …and connects with a lighting-quick, sharp kick to Johnson’s back, sending him face down into the canvas once more! This time Wildchild makes his way across the ring to tag in his partner, letting Johnny enter to a rousing round of cheers from the crowd. The Barracuda comes in and pulls the Canadian Murder Machine up to his feet with a quick arm wrench, then steps forward to send Johnson across the ring with an Irish Whip…NO! Johnson digs his feet into the canvas and reverses, sending Johnny across the ring instead! “I told you they didn’t want to let him up to his feet,” mutters King. Dangerous hits the ropes and rebounds off them, headed back towards Johnson for what is sure to lead to the Barracuda’s untimely demise as the Murder Machine starts the movements for his rolling elbow! He swings it out… *WHOOSH~!* “Nobody home!” exclaims Mak Francis, as Johnny deftly avoids the blast, sailing right under it on his way towards the opposite side of the ring, leaving Johnson in surprise as he is left to wonder what the hell happened to Johnny Dangerous! He was right there! He couldn’t have missed! However, missed is exactly what he did, and as Johnny hits the ropes to come screaming back across the ring towards his opponent, Wildchild reaches out to make a blind tag on his partners back, and then Dangerous dives through the air like a guided missile… *CRACK!* …and blasts the Canadian Murder Machine in the chest with a diving shoulder-block! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” The crowd winces at the absolutely stiff shot, wondering exactly how Johnson’s ribcage can stay intact after that, but nonetheless it does, it just puts Mr. Coldfront Classic on his back once again. This time it doesn’t look like Johnson’s going to be able to kick out, which is why MANSON decides to reestablish his presence in this bout! He quickly heads into the ring from behind the Barracuda… *CRACK!* …only to find two feet connecting with his face as Wildchild cuts him off with a double dropkick, dropping Mr. OSITY to the mat like a bad habit! Again the Bahaman rolls the Raging Bull’s seemingly lifeless body out of the ring, and then heads back towards his partner. Together they lift Johnson up and snare him in a double side headlock and then lift him up for a vertical suplex… *BANG!* …and then they fall back, slamming the Canadian Murder Machine back-first into the mat! Dangerous stands back up to his feet and starts to head towards the apron when his partner grabs him by the arm and stops him and motions for the Dangerous Drop, getting a resounding pop from the crowd! “Wild and Dangerous are looking to end this massacre with a Dangerous Drop,” Francis comments. “If they can pull it off it’ll be lights out for the Challengers.” Johnny pulls Johnson up and lifts him into the Electric Chair Drop position as Wildchild climbs the turnbuckles. Johnny moves a little closer to the corner and then executes the drop, precisely as Wildchild springs into the air. He snares Johnson’s head in a side headlock as he flies through the air, and Johnny kicks his legs out from underneath him… WHAAAAM! … Sitting out into an Electric Chair Drop as Wildchild drives the Canadian Murder Machine’s head face-first into the canvas with a flying bulldog headlock! DANGEROUS DROP!” shouts Mak. “This one is over!” Moving quickly, Wildchild floats over Johnson then grabs his leg and rolls back on it to firmly pin his shoulders to the mat. Herrington is right there to make the count… ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!! *DING DING DING!!!* “Starsky and Hutch” booms from the speakers and Funyon grabs his microphone to make thie announcement; “Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match by pinfall…WILD! AAAAAAAAAAND DAAAANGEROUS!!” “This crowd is roaring in excitement at the conclusion of this match,” the Franchise notes. “It’s not very often they get to witness a live wrestling show, let alone one of the most dominate tag teams defending their belts. This will definitely be something they remember as well as Blood and Thunder.” “You can bet your bottom dollar they’ll regroup and come back stronger then ever though,” King just has to say. “Tonight they obviously suffered from jet lag but that won’t happen again!” Herrington hands the golden Tag Team Championships back to Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous. Every time they’re able to have their belts back they can breath a little sigh of relief – for now they were successful, but every time they put those belts on the line they know it could very well be the last. They each head to a corner with a belt in hand, climb up the post, and hold their titles out for the fans as flashbulbs pop from all corners of the arena… As we: FADE OUT.

Francis and Suicide King are plugging the sponsor when the lights dim and music begins to play – “Personal Jesus” by Marilyn Manson to be specific. “Wait a minute!” Mak Francis cries. “Oh, this is not what I need right now,” Suicide King bemoans. The World Heavyweight Champion, Landon Maddix, not dressed for combat but rather in a power suit with a red button-down shirt and tie, comes through the curtain while carrying his championship over his shoulder. “Landon Maddix is scheduled is not scheduled for combat tonight!” Mak Francis reminds the fans. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Funyon instructs. “PLEASE WELCOME TO THE ANNOUNCER’S POSITION, THE SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION: LANDON MADDIX!!!” The crowd obliges with loud cheers while Landon strides to the announcer’s table, soaking in the adulation as he walks to the table. Suicide King stares daggers into him while Mak Francis tries to maintain professional decorum. “Well, I guess you’ll be having a seat by me, Landon,” Mak says as he rises; Suicide King stays seated. Landon smirks and stands up on the announcer’s table, then holds his belt in the air to another pop from the crowd. “C’mon, there’s a show to do!” Suicide King reminds the champion. Landon smiles at one last cheering blonde chick in the crowd, then takes a spot next to Mak Francis. “Put the headset on there,” Mak Francis tells Landon. Landon does so and immediately lets out a loud “WHOO!” “It’s great to be here, Mak Francis!” Landon yells. “I’m the World Champion, I get to have a little rest … it’s nice to just sit back, relax, and watch some wrestling! AM I RIGHT, SUICIDE KING?” Suicide King rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond. “I’m still confused as to why you’re out here,” Mak Francis says. Almost immediately after, the arena goes black and the words “I’m BORN”, “I’M ALIVE” and “I BREATHE” alternate on the Smarktron. “That’ll explain it!” Mak corrects. “Vitamin” by Incubus plays and the crowd is on their feet. Zyon emerges through the curtain and stands at the top of the ramp; like Landon, he also soaks in the moment, then sprints down the ramp like a track star. “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is to determine the #1 contender for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship! Introducing first, from Elkhart, Indiana, weighing in at 200 lbs: ZYON!” Zyon leaps onto the ring apron, then flips into the ring. He runs up to the top rope and does a pose, but he seems to be looking at Landon Maddix as much as he is the audience. “And that’s the unofficial #1 contender for your championship right there, Landon!” Mak states. “Uh …Yup,” Landon says, in a tone so obvious you can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Now, this match is not to determine the #1 contendership for your title, but for the Cruiserweight Title!” Mak goes on. “Thank you, Captain Obvious!” Suicide King yells. “It speaks!” Landon cries before loudly laughing. Zyon jumps off the rope and gets back in the center of the ring before the arena is filled with red and loud techno music plays. “King, is this from your new mix tape?” Landon asks. The Fabulous Jakey emerges from the curtain, and tonight he is wearing a floor-length banana boat yellow trenchcoat and a matching fedora. “His opponent, from Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing in at 160 pounds, THE FABULOUS JAKEY!” “There are no words,” is all Landon can say. Jakey walks up the steps and enters through the ropes, then poses in the middle of the ring with his arms in the air. Funyon is just about to leave the ring when Jakey stops him and asks if he can have the mike for a moment. Funyon obliges and Jakey takes the mike. “Last week, my opponent and I were scheduled to have a match to determine the #1 contender for the Cruiserweight Championship,” Jakey tells the fans. “I could not make the show, hence the re-match. But then when I’m at home watching on TV, it turns out that Zyon doesn’t want the Cruiserweight Title. He wants the big one.” Jakey turns around to face his opponent. “Now unlike you, Zyon, I actually care about the Cruiserweight Title. So since you’ve decided you’ve got bigger fish to fry, why don’t you forfeit the match and just name me the #1 contender, and then you and Landon can go take tango lessons or whatever you do before you big dance?” Zyon incredulously grabs the microphone away from Jakey, then stares him down before carefully holding the microphone to his lips. His answer: “No.” Zyon shoves Jakey down to the mat and yells at the ref to ring the bell. DING DING DING! Jakey pleads while Zyon angrily stomps on him. Zyon stands Jakey up in the corner, then grabs the collar of his turnbuckle and thrashes him across the ring by it. As Jakey struggles to get to his feet, Zyon continues kicking him in the side. Jakey pleads with the ref to stop the onslaught, and referee Eddy Long steps in between the two men and orders Zyon to “cool it”, allowing Jakey to slide out of the ring to a chorus of boos. On the outside, Jakey, facing the entrance ramp, takes off his trenchcoat and bitches, and Zyon runs off the ropes again and hits him with a running baseball slide to the back of the head. “And Jakey goes down!” Mak yells. Jakey falls face-first on the apron and Zyon slides out of the ring, then picks up Jakey and punches him with lefts and rights. “And this match so far has been all Zyon!” Mak cries. The ref begins a count and Zyon grabs Jakey to get him in the ring, but Jakey knees Zyon in the gut, then sends him face-first into the pole. “You spoke too soon!” Suicide King yells. Jakey sends Zyon back into the ring, then climbs up to the top rope. Zyon gets to his feet just as Jakey hits a – “High Cross Body!’ Mak Francis cries. ONE— TWO— Zyon quickly kicks out of it, and the men are both back at their feet. Zyon goes for a strike of some sort, but Jakey wraps around him and rolls him up for a quick ONE— And Zyon kicks out again “Zyon is known for his speed, he’s known for his strikes, if Jakey can find a way to outwrestle him—“ Mak begins. “Watch and learn, Landon!” Suicide King yells. The men are back up and Zyon kicks Jakey in the gut, then hits a snap suplex, followed by a second one. Zyon raises his arms for crowd’s approval, then gets up on the top rope facing the opponent. Before he can do anything, Jakey gets to his feet and pulls the top rope, leaving Zyon to be crotched on the top rope! “Zyon in a bad way!’ Mak yells. Jakey backs up into the turnbuckle and puts Zyon up on his own shoulders. “What’s Jakey gonna do here?” Mak asks. “It looks like he’s setting up for an Electric Chair—“ Suicide King begins. Before Suicide King can finish his thought, Mak quickly counters into a victory roll ONE— TWO— Jakey quickly kicks out and they’re both at their feet, but this time Mak kicks Jakey in the gut, then goes off the ropes and his a clothesline, then a second one. Jakey gets up for the third time and Mak runs at him, then hits a Lunging Yazuka Kick that knocks the opponent down. “And some flash from Zyon!” Mak yells. Jakey sits up, but Zyon is ready for him and hits a seated dropkick with an audible kick that leads the crowd to gasp. Jakey grabs his face in pain and Zyon picks the opponent up, then gives Landon a knowing look. “Zyon perhaps trying to send a message here!” Mak cries. “Just say it!” Landon yells. Zyon hooks Jakey’s neck and hits a Reverse DDT that further neutralizes him. Zyon then goes to the top rope again and the crowd cheers. Zyon hits a high leg drop that connects, with his leg smashing right against Jakey’s face. “The high leg drop! Cover!” ONE— TWO— Jakey kicks out and Zyon picks him up and throws him into the turnbuckle. Zyon runs for a charge but Jakey kicks Zyon in the face and hits a bulldog from the corner. Jakey then goes up to the top rope himself, facing the audience. “This is rather uncharacteristic of Jakey! What’s he gonna do here?” Francis asks. Jakey attempts a Moonsault and while the form is beautiful, Zyon rolls out of the way, causing him to crash and burn!” “And Jakey misses the Moonsault! And Zyon is gonna take advantage!” Zyon trash-talks and, as Jakey rolls over to his back, jumps on the top rope, yelling something along the lines of This is how it’s done! Zyon deftly scores the Moonsault onto Jakey and lands with expert precision. “And that’s how you do it!" Mak yells. “He’s just showing off!” yells Suicide King. Zyon has a nonchalant pin, with minimal body leverage and his elbow pressed against Jakey’s face as the ref counts: ONE— TWO— Jakey kicks out of it; Zyon gets a somewhat mischievous look on his face at this kickout “Look at that sick smirk!” Suicide King yells. “You have to believe he was expecting a kickout!” Mak yells. Zyon picks Jakey up and shoves him into the turnbuckle, then stomps a mudhole in him with kicks and knees to the gut. The ref admonishes Zyon to get a clean break. “Jakey can barely stand!” notes The Franchise. Zyon picks Jakey up and hits a suplex out of the corner to get the opponent back in the middle of the ring. Zyon then patiently waits for Jakey to get up. Jakey staggers and gets to his feet and Zyon grabs him from behind in what appears to be a back drop, but Jakey flips backwards over Zyon and hooks the head and neck. “And a nice counter by Jakey!” And seemingly out of nowhere, Jakey runs to the ropes and launches off the top rope, hitting a “Springboard bulldog!” cries The Suicide King. “This could do it! ONE— TWO— Zyon kicks out of it with relative ease; Struggling through pain but still adamant, Jakey picks up Zyon and kicks him in the gut, then hits a Jumping DDT that drives his head into the mat “What a DDT!” Suicide King yells. “Go for the pin, Jakey!” Instead of going for a pin, Jakey walks over to the ropes and stares at the World Heavyweight Champion Landon Maddix … and blows him a kiss and winks at him! Landon looks like he’s just walked past an open septic tank, while the crowd responds as if a finisher has just been delivered. Suicide King is cracking up while Mak and Landon are beside themselves. “Our Landon Maddix has a very diverse fan base!” Suicide King yells. “Shut up!” Landon yells back. Jakey turns around while Zyon, who has been struggling to his feet, delivers a Spinning Wheel Kick to the face that knocks Jakey down. Jakey gets up and Zyon throws him off the ropes, then meets him with a lunging Asatsuken Knee that bashes his face in! “Zyon getting more and more aggressive here!” Mak cries. As Jakey gets up reeling from the previous maneuver, Zyon runs at him again and hits him with the Snap, a front dropkick to the chest that again knocks him down. Zyon then kips up to the crowd’s approval and points to the top rope while the crowd roars. “And Zyon going to what he knows best!” Mak yells. “Are you prepared for such a high-flyer?” Suicide King asks Landon, who is silent. “He’s still recovering,” Mak retorts. Zyon jumps on the top rope and leaps into the air, rolling himself into a ball. “The CANNONBALL KAMIKAZE!” Mak yells as Zyon drives both his knees into Jakey’s sternum. Zyon, staring right at Landon, goes for a pin and hooks the leg: ONE— TWO— “Wait a minute!” Zyon pulls Jakey up by his hair and points at the World Champion “What a foolish move by Zyon!” Suicide King yells. “The arrogance of this man!” “He’s sending a message to the World Champion!” Mak cries. Zyon hoists Jakey up on his shoulders in a standing fireman’s carry, then ducks his head and pushes Jakey forward. Zyon drops to the canvas and throws his knees up, leaving Jakey to land on them sternum fast. “And again to the sternum!” Mak cries. “Jakey could have ruptured something!” “C’mon, Landon, you’ve got to be feeling something by now!” Suicide King cries. “Hey, this kid came to play,” is all Landon has to say. Jakey is nearly lifeless on the mat but Zyon stares at him menacingly. Zyon kicks him a few times, almost toying with him like he’s a mouse. “And Zyon doesn’t look to be done just yet!” Mak yells. “He really wants to make it clear what he can do in that World Heavyweight Title match!” Zyon picks Jakey up and throws him into the turnbuckle closest to the announcer’s table, then does a running charge to Jakey, who nearly collapses. Zyon grabs Jakey towards the center of the ring and points at Landon again. “You ready to see this one?” he yells, and the crowd approves. Zyon hooks the neck as if he’s about to deliver a Swinging Neckbreaker, but with a force of life yet to be seen, Jakey wraps around Zyon, hooks his arms, and bends both their bodies backward “Wait a minute! Jakey with a backslide! ONE— TWO— THREE!” Landon stands up and mock claps along with the jeering audience “Here is your winner, THE FABULOUS JAKEY!” Funyon informs us. Zyon, on his knees with a look of disbelief, is beside himself while the ref raises the arm of a barely standing Jakey. “Well, you have to believe that Zyon had this match won!” Mak Francis yells. “But he got greedy!” Suicide King cries. “He was more concerned with showing Landon Maddix what he could do than with actually winning the match!” “Zyon, almost dominating the match here, but got outwrestled in just the last seconds!” Mak cries. Landon leaves the announcer’s position and walks by the ring, giving Zyon a sarcastic shrug. Zyon looks at Landon angrily, then, out of nowhere – “THE BIG SHOT TO JAKEY!” Zyon delivers The Big Shot to Jakey and his own music plays while he stares down the World Heavyweight Champion, who walks up the ramp grinning. “Well Zyon didn’t get it done tonight, but he’s got time to prove his worth to Landon Maddix as a #1 contender!”

Tad Michaels vs. JRR =

“I’m standing here with the SWF Tag Team Champions, Wild and Dangerous,” says Ben Hardy, “and gentlemen, tonight you have a match against Blood and Thunder. This is your first tag team match since you two won the titles from Toxxic and Landon Maddix. Why haven’t you done so until now? And is there any concern about cohesion and continuity tonight?” “Well, to answer your first question,” replies Johnny, “as a wise man once said to me, the answer to any question that starts with ‘why don’t they’ or ‘why haven’t they’ is always ‘money!’ The people running the SWF right now are desperate to drive the ratings up as high as possible, and they know that they can get higher ratings by putting a two-time former World Heavyweight Champion, and the most popular superstar in the SWF today in separate matches than they can by booking us together. And we don’t necessarily agree with that, but we don’t get paid to make those decisions… Now, as far as whether or not we’re worried about continuity? Man, our continuity is second to none; even when we were fighting each other, we were still a great team, that’s how good our continuity is… if we took a year off, and then came back, we’d still be just as great as ever!” “It don’ matter how long we been apart,” adds Wildchild. “Because when we form like Voltron, an’ bus’ out dat Blazin’ Sword, dere ain’t nobody in de SWF dat can see us!” “IS THAT RIGHT?” Johnny, WC and Ben all turn their heads to see MANSON and JJ Johnson heading aggressively towards them. “Hey fellas, don’t rush this ass-whippin’,” says Johnny. “We’ll take care of business out in the ring soon enough!” “Not so fast,” says MANSON. “Since you guys are so confident about how great you are… why didn’t you put the belts up?” “We didn’ make de match,” replies WC. “De man tells us who, when an’ how t’wressle. If he says t’put de titles on de line, de we put ‘em on de line. If he don’, well we don’.” “Nobody’s stopping you from putting them up tonight,” whispers Johnson, “except you.” “You know what?” replies WC. “Dis here is my territory! Suriname is a part of de Caribbean Community… Dese here are my people! I can’t disappoint dem and cheat dem out of a title match!” “How about it, Johnny?” goads Ben. “Does your partner speak for you?” “You bet your ass!” replies the Barracuda emphatically. “It’s on, boys! I hope you brought your Excedrin, because you’re going to have a hell of a headache when we get done with you two tonight!” “And there you have it!” shouts Ben, as Champions and challengers head off into different directions. “What was originally scheduled to be a non-title match will now see the SWF Tag Team Championship defended here tonight! I’m Ben Hardy, now let’s send it back to King and Mak!”