chirs3

Or something. I'm fuzzy on the details. In any event, we've got about four active markers at the moment, which is a little bit less than I'd like. So, any vets, retirees, or... anyone else out there wanna step up and lend a hand, at least temporarily?

Denied, on the grounds of because I said so. Now go to your room.

Gotta run. Sorry to post it incomplete, but getting booted for an unknown amount of time. PPV card being worked on as we speak, will be up ASAP. Gottarunohmygodthey'rerightbehindm

That never said Toko. Seriously.

The excited crowd outside the Namdaemun Gate is slowly dying down, but it's tough after such an exhilarating match between JJ Johnson and Zyon. However, the people milling around the exits freeze, in fact, everyone freezes as blindingly bright floodlights snap on around the Namdaemun Gate. "What's going on? I didn't think anything was scheduled for after the main event," Mak Francis mumbles. "Nothing usually is set up for after the main event, which is why it's called the main event, you doofus," the Suicide King snaps back. Fans rush back to seats, regardless of whether or not they sat at them during the show. Minor scuffles occur, but the highly trained SWF security staff quickly put them to rest. The lights illuminate the Gate and surrounding lawn, and just when things couldn't get any brighter, a door opens in the gate and standard home-wattage light spills out. A shadowy figure walks down the path, and is soon revealed. "That's....why, that's Outcast! He hasn't been seen in the Smarks Wrestling Federation in quite some time. Could he, too, be another name on a growing list of returning superstars?" Francis wonders. "Maybe he'll join up with Tom Flesher and Charlie Matthews," King speculates. As if on cue, Outcast pulls out a microphone from his back pocket. "Ahem," Tyler McClelland begins, causing a hush to fall over the audience. "I'll be brief with this, which must come as a shock to you all, as I'm known as one of the more verbose and loquacious men in the history of this fine federation. So, to be blunt, something I've rarely been throughout my very illustrious career, and why should I have been? I was, hell, I am a great wrestler and entertainer, so why not talk a bit? I deserve that right, I think. I helped carry this federation on my back for some time, but do I get the recognition? No, I'm always over looked and forgotten." Sensing a rant, the fans begin to boo and make noise, hoping to get Outcast back on track. "How dare you! How dare you people boo me!" Outcast screams. "However, I do realize I did get a bit off-track there. Where was I? Oh yes, something I must say, very briefly, but of great importance. GET OFF MY LAWN!" With that, Outcast drops the microphone and heads back to the Namdaemun Gate as Smarkdown fades to black.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN! Live, Monday, June 5th, from the front lawn of the Seoul Namdaemun Gate in Seoul, South Korea! (6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) The SWF heads south of the border... but not THAT border! Smarkdown comes to you live from Seoul, South Korea, marking the last stop before Nippon Budokan! Tonight's show comes from the front lawn of the Namdaemun Gate! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MAIN EVENT JJ Johnson vs. Zyon © -> Why was Zyon beating the top dog one minute, then fighting on a tank the next? Because we needed someone for House Rules, that's why. It should not have been taken as a sign that his win would go unnoticed - oh no. We noticed, alright. He'll be moving on up, but not to the East Side - he'll be moving on up the rankings, and the card! Zyon main events tonight, against a man he shares some history with... whoever wins will be getting a HUGE momentum boost heading into the PPV... whoever loses... ... well, they just lose. Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH The New Doomtopians (Jimmy the Doom © and Doomstroyer ©) vs. The Dead Precedents (Bruce Blank and Bloodshed) -> I had hoped this would be a PPV match, but sadly, the life of a booker is not all sunshine and daisies. Conflicts of interest arise, and the Tag Title Match that we thought would grace the halls of Nippon Budokan will now grace the lawn of the Seoul Namdaemun Gate. The downside? Word limits. The upside? FREE TV, BITCHES~! In any event, the Doomtopians lifted the titles off the terribly impressive team of JJ Johnson and "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins - will their luck hold out against The Dead Precedents? Rules: Standard tag team match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Michael Stephens vs. Insane Luchadore -> I have no clue how Stephens did on Lockdown yet... but let's assume that Insane Luchadore came out and blasted him with a steel chair, prompting this match! Or maybe the other way around... Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING BOUT - The Seoul Survivor Match - Fatal Fourway Elimination Grendel vs. Sean Davis vs. Stryke vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu -> It has been brought to my attention that The Patron Wrestler of Athens, Zyon, has yet to defend this honourable title since he won it! THAT AIN'T TOO COOL, MAN. Tonight, we will determine his challenger - four worthy contenders rumble for the right to be called The Seoul Survivor, and at a future date that has yet to be determined, The Seoul Survivor and the Patron Wrestler will battle one-on-one to determine who is truly deserving of their titles! Rules: Two men in the ring, two outside. Tags can be made to anyone at any time. ELIMINATION RULES! Last man remaining wins, and shall be known forever (or until next year's World Tour) as THE SEOUL SURVIVOR! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Smarkdown! SWF’s premier wrestling show returns to the Namdaemun Gate where crazy Korean’s from both the North and the South have gathered to watch the spectacle that is professional wrestling. They watched a Seoul Survivor rise above those who were lost and they may have observed the reincarnation of a depleted tag team division. Above all else they stood, sat, and cheered there way through something that was new, hip, and original. As the light from a full moon polishes the nearby horizon, a certain batch of excitement has begun to overthrow the audience. From those who watch from the roof of the gate to those who zoom in from the giant skyscrapers that are in close proximity with Seoul, everyone has realized that tonight’s main event does have a familiar scent to it. A graceful rehashing if you will. It may not be fronted by bling bling or hidden behind the shadow of an over the top stipulation, but one thing is for sure. That one thing poisons the atmosphere with the exact same enthusiasm that the people have for what is to come. This toxin unlike other poisons is full proof. Those lucky enough to already see the venom in action can attest to how fatal it is. They know that this poison…this remedy for tragic slumber will do what it has always done. It will deliver the goods. Here we go again motherfuckers. I do that rather well...don't you think? “As you can already tell due to JJ Johnson’s theme music, we are back. This is it. A match worthy of any PPV extravaganza has arrived on FREE TV, and I couldn’t be more excited. Listen to these people. This is awesome.” Mak welcomes the television viewers back from commercial while in mid mark out. “Jesus Mak it’s not like you’ve got feeling back in your legs or anything. Sure tonight’s main event is the number one ticket for everything PRIME TIME, but look at you. You’re sweating for crying out loud.” “Can you blame me?” “Yeah.” “Oh. Well that doesn’t matter. These two have had multiple wars throughout their career, and each one has arguably stole the show. It’s gone through the hardcore division past the Cruiserweight Title, and now it’s here once again. This one isn’t about titles or egos. This has pride written all over it.” “And ratings. Don’t forget ratings.” The Suicide King chimes in. The fog like smoke that emanates from the mixed martial arts warrior’s entrance has now covered at least a ¼ of downtown Seoul where those who should be in bed are raging against their curfews. Cryptopsy’s “Crown of Horns” thunders in the background as the red and white lighting skip around at a seizure inducing pace. Stupefied by the spectacle, the Korean audience almost misses the emergence of JJ Johnson. “YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!” Almost. Rather or not the emotionless shooter is taken back by such a positive response will remain unknown as the REAL Canadian Crippler jogs to the ring with his usual no nonsense demeanor. Entering the ring via between the middle and top rope, JJ Johnson ascends the nearest middle turnbuckle…taking a moment to uncharacteristically look out into the cheering…flat out screaming audience. Eliciting a larger sound from the audience, Johnson spreads his arms out for his signature crucifix taunt before stepping back down into the ring. “That was quite the ovation Johnson got. It’s unbelievable that a man that used to be despised by the audience like he was is able to garner that type of response. Especially since he usually remains mute and demands respect through vicious beatings as opposed to playing to the audience like his opponent.” “Mak, I will say this to you slowly. J…J…Johnson…is…not…a…good…guy. The people cheer him because of those vicious beatings he deals out.” “King, you would be partly right in that assessment. However, JJ Johnson rarely cheats and usually shows respect to those who deserve it. Sure he may break their jaw, but be damned if the guy doesn’t congratulate his opponent’s on a job well done.” Relaxing in a random turnbuckle, Johnson stretches with his back against the Smarktron, disinterested in watching the same damn entrance he has seen at least five times now. Of course, nothing is wrong when everyone else enjoys the show. “I’M BORN!” “I’M ALIVE!!” “I BREATHE!” “Vitamin” by Incubus opens over the exhilarated crowd who go bonkers for the Unique Youth. Sprinting out to another thunderous ovation, Zyon is all smiles as he bounces down the entrance ramp, slapping the friendly hands that surround him. With his Cruiserweight Title glistening around his waist, the youth leaps on to the ring apron. Clutching the top rope, Zyon slingshots himself into the ring with an energetic flip, landing gracefully on his feet. Turning toward the turnbuckle, Zyon begins to ascend the top rope, but painful memories against this particular competitor brings the youth back down to earth as well as the canvas. Calmly, Zyon retreats to the corner opposite his rival as he awaits further instructions. “Did you see that, King? Zyon won’t even do his new signature taunt due to a previous finish in one of his many encounters with JJ Johnson.” Mak is ready and willing to help those who missed a previous bout between these two. “It’s official folks, Mak has no life to speak of.” King downplays the storyline behind such an encounter. Grand announcer Funyon steps into the center of the ring where he will take this party to the next level. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is NON TITLE! Introducing first, to my right, wearing red trunks with white trim, he stands six feet and one inch tall, and is weighing in tonight at 233 pounds. Hailing from the great north, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. He is J…J…JOOOOOOOOOOOHNSON!!!!!!” Stepping out from his corner, the Canadian thrusts his fist into the air in standard MMA style as the crowd breaks into a frenzy of cheers. Rather or not the paying customers cheer or jeer, Johnson maintains his yoga like concentration, ignoring who the common view as a “good guy” or a “bad guy.” While many foolishly attempt to figure out what lies beneath the cold exterior of the MMA specialist, JJ Johnson will brilliantly take a second to smack those deep in thought around. That’s what the people admire, and his opponent’s fear. He’s not here to win a popularity contest. This is a business. A business that involves dealing the opponent an immense amount of pain, and for Johnson…business is good. “And his opponent!” Funyon begins, “To my left, wearing khaki colored shorts and a black T-shirt with a white Z on the front. He stands at five feet, eleven inches, and weighs in tonight at 200 pounds. Hailing from the Great Lakes region of Elkhart, Indiana. He is the REIGNING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION!” The crowd explodes before Funyon can finish causing the professional announcer to strain his vocal chords, “He is the UNIQUE YOUTH! He is…ZYYYYYYYON!!!!!” Tossing both arms that bend at the blows into the air, Zyon performs his parallel taunt that flings a bit of arrogance in the youth’s demeanor. Unlike his frosty opponent, Zyon acknowledges the deafening cheering in the background with a salute. Unbuckling his title and handing it to the exiting Funyon, Zyon begins to treat the earsplitting cheering for what it really is…background noise. Concentrating on an opponent that is far too dangerous to take lightly, the youth calmly mouths a few words toward his treacherous rival… “I’m not scared of you.” …And THIS is what forces JJ Johnson of all people to actually break out a smile. DING DING DING!!! “REFEREE KEN MASTERS HAS CALLED FOR THE BELL!” “Mak, you do realize that I am less than a foot from you. Are you trying to cripple my hearing?” “Sorry King, I’m just a tad bit excited that’s all.” The Franchise admits. Jogging out from their respective corners, the two warriors meet in the middle of the ring where Johnson immediately looks to control the pace by tricking the youth into a collar and elbow tie up. Struggling to maintain his half of the leverage, the smaller Zyon bends at his knees, lowering himself closer to the mat. “See that Mak, Johnson may have gone a little soft in my opinion, but he still can out power that spot monkey.” “That is true, King. However, that’s not the case at all. Zyon is consciously bending at the knees, which makes it hard for the taller Johnson to apply a go behind for instance. Instead of grabbing the youth around the waist, Johnson would probably tackle the very oxygen we breathe.” “Whatever.” Scoffs the Gambling Man. Continuing his strategy of keeping the MMA specialist in front of him, Zyon drops one knee to the canvas. While Zyon’s plan is impressive, JJ Johnson soon realizes that there is no need to expend another ounce of energy on a collar and elbow tie up. With his expression changing from confused to that of the enlightened, Johnson reels the youth into a side headlock! “Ok that was swift on Johnson’s part. It was as if Zyon was begging to be put in a side headlock. And because of his crouching stance, the youth can’t push the stronger Johnson away.” Or can he? Straightening his knee up so that it lifts the youth into a 90-degree angle, Zyon eases both of his hands behind the uninformed martial artist, and with a grunt the Unique Youth sends the Canadian charging toward the ropes. Bouncing back with his eyebrows raised in a showing of bewilderment, Johnson scans the youth who chooses to not leave his feet. Instead, Zyon attempts to take his opponent’s head off with a clothesline that the Canadian seen coming a mile away. Ducking under the clothesline, Johnson shifts his weight around the youth, clasping both hands around his waist for a reverse waist lock. “Ha! See that Mak? Zyon worked so hard to keep Johnson in front of him, and because of his own stupidity, Johnson is now behind him.” The Gambling Man proves to be extra harsh on the youngster who has been put in this position many times by the technically sound suplex machine. Past experiences has taught the youth the correct way to throw the technically superior Johnson off his game. Corking his body slightly, Zyon reaches around with his outside arm that soon transforms into his inside arm as he wraps it around the head of his opponent. Sticking to his previous strategy of staying low, Zyon does just that while floating the unaware Johnson over with a headlock takedown! Remaining crouched on the mat, the technically retarded youth shoves it back into Johnson’s face as he applies a chin lock of all things! “Are my eyes deceiving me?” “No King, they are just fine. Zyon just surprised Johnson with his own dose of technical superiority. Now the fun part is to see how the Canadian reacts.” With Ken Masters all up in his grill asking if he wishes to submit or not, Johnson is almost overjoyed at the position he finds himself in. Rolling his eyes at the hilarity of it all, the Canadian leaves the dramatics to the audience that swears that “Zyon has him now.” No kids he doesn’t…not even close. Ending Zyon’s fun with a simple turn of the hips and the idea that humans can stand on two feet, Johnson has forced Zyon’s offense on to him. Constructing the youth’s chin lock into an equally unskilled side headlock, Johnson mimics the youth’s earlier strategy by shoving the youngster toward the ropes. Unlike the MMA master, Zyon decides that bouncing back is much too boring for him. Springing off of the second rope, Zyon swims through the air as he turns his body so that he is facing his stupefied opponent. Swinging both feet out, the youth shocks Johnson by planting both of his feet into his rival’s chest with a corkscrew dropkick. Collapsing to the canvas, the Canadian upholds his reputation as being tougher than nails as he pops right back to his feet. Unprepared for the lightning quick youngster, JJ Johnson puts his fate in the hands of luck as he throws his arms up, guarding his face for whatever the youth has planned. And what has his plan been so far… …Staying low of course. Lunging at the Ultimate Fighter, Zyon shanks Johnson with a wicked shoulder to the gut. Clutching his sternum while in mid back pedal the Ultimate Fighter recognizes that he should have known better than to guess against his unorthodox rival. Speculating the youth’s next attack would be just as difficult for the Ultimate Fighter who allows the Unique Youth to charge down the battlefield once more. However, this time Zyon isn’t the only one in the ring shuffling their feet at an amazing pace. Taking off in a dead sprint himself, Johnson looks prepared to rip Zyon’s head clean off his shoulders. The two locomotives are on a collision course of epic proportions before Johnson pulls a Zyon, and evades the destruction all together by sliding under the youth’s legs. Pushing himself right back to a vertical base as the American bounces off the ropes, Johnson hooks his arm under the youth’s, hurling him through the air and on to the canvas with a high angle hip toss! “Beautiful high angle hip toss by Johnson.” “High angle? Have I been retired so long that people have created variations for a hip toss? “Well yes, King. You see a high angle hip toss sacrifices distance for impact.” Rising to a sitting position, Zyon takes a moment to regain the breath that was just recently blown away from him due to the hip toss variation. This second is all it takes for Johnson to pounce on to the youth with a chin lock of all things…once again. “These two always have a battle of one-upmanship in their matches sometime. This is looking to be no different.” Mak recalls back to their previous encounters. The Seoul audience actually cheers on Johnson who with a smug look across his face loosens the chin lock as if daring the youth to counter. Obliging to the Ultimate Fighter’s arrogant mute demand, Zyon bridges directly up to a vertical base…before dropping back down on to his ass, stunning the Canadian with a modified jaw breaker. Rotating his jaw in a clockwise manor, Johnson is once again caught on his toes by the youth who smacks him with a heinous forearm to the jaw! *CRACK!* Back peddling away from the aggressive youth, Johnson would be smart to guard his face…the same face that is viciously smushed by a barrage of forearms. With the crowd whispering under their breath for the Unique Youth to take it to the former International Champ, Johnson spites them all as he breaks through the mold, and simply hurls the youth over the top rope and to the floor! “YEEEEAH!!” And the crowd goes mad. King even joins in on the fun, “I wonder how long Johnson has wanted to do that. Most of their matches have been under cruiserweight rules, but JJ was all fuck that, and has now joined up with the heavyweights.” “By like three pounds, King.” “Well those three precious pounds allows Johnson to toss that twerp over the top rope. Those three pounds are a godsend, Mak.” His momentum completely disintegrated by Johnson’s smart maneuver, Zyon rolls back into the ring, half-heartedly believing that Johnson would lunge in for the attack. Well the youth was indeed caught off guard…caught off guard by Johnson’s recently revealed morals that allow the youth back to a vertical base without the slightest hint of regret. However, it doesn’t take long for the two warriors to restart their duel as Zyon shoots in for a collar and elbow tie up, but Johnson simply swoops in and behind the Unique Youth. Startling the youth with his quickness, Johnson chucks the youth backward with a backdrop that Zyon flips out of! Landing on his feet with the grace of a priest on acid, the Cruiserweight Champion stumbles backward until the ropes behind him slows his momentum. Recoiling off those same ropes, Zyon blindly charges the more than aware Ultimate Fighter who halts the youth with a toe kick to the sternum. Underhooking one of the youth’s arms, Johnson flings the youngster backward with a ruthless snap half-hatch suplex that he naturally follows with a bridge. ONE! TWO!! Kickout! Shooting up to a sitting position after the strong escape from the bridge, Zyon plants his hand on the canvas looking to push himself back to his feet. However, a problem arises as Johnson pivots around on his knee, locking the youth down with a top wristlock and a certain blood choke that helped win him the International Title not too long ago. “Buffalo Sleeper!” King continues, “This isn’t the deadly body scissors version, but this is still effective non the less. We all seen what these did to Wildchild, and Zyon isn’t even as good of a wrestler as that spot monkey. Seriously, how can he survive this?” Answering the Gambling Man’s query, Zyon with the knowledge that each gasp of breath he takes could be his last, simply drapes his leg over the bottom rope, forcing referee Ken Masters to call for a break. Releasing the youth from his torture, Johnson dances back to the center of the ring as Zyon pulls himself back up with help from the nearby ropes. Shuffling his way toward the Ultimate Fighter, Zyon foolishly swings at the defenses of the MMA artist who easily evades the strike with a crouch. Unable to ignore the opening that his opponent presents with such a wild strike, Johnson swoops in, tripping Zyon with a double-legged takedown. Choosing to go where many have gone before, Zyon tightens his legs around the body of his dangerous opponent, chaining that with a front face lock sleeper!!! “Zyon is attempting what many have done before. He has Johnson trapped in his guard, and that sleeper looks to be cinched in quite well. If I didn’t know better, Johnson would have to tap out or pass out.” Mak with a little wishful thinking. As wishful as it might be, it’s not out of the question as Johnson visibly struggles to break free of the youth’s trap. Of course, this is Johnson’s specialty, and he treats it as so. Spreading his legs out while rising to a more vertical stance, the Canadian strains to pull away from the youth’s sleeper. Realizing that he’s fighting a losing battle, Zyon releases the hold, hoping that the breathless Ultimate Fighter will be taken back by that strategy. *CRACK!* Needless to say, he was wrong. Passing the youth’s guard with the intensity of a pitbull, Johnson begins to overwhelm the youth with multiple elbow shots to the face. *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* Looking into his rival’s woozy expression, Johnson proves to those who are in a panic that he isn’t going to treat Zyon like Janus and elbow him into oblivion. Instead, he forces the youth to his feet, Irish whipping him across the ring, and catching him on the rebound with a railgun suplex! “Johnson continues to prove that he is superior to the spot monkey. Get it?” “Yeah, King. Real funny and uber original on your part.” The Franchise downplays King’s attempt at humor. Continuing his ravage attack on the youth, Johnson lifts the Unique Youth by his hair, jabbing him in the sternum with a sharp kick, and applying a double underhook. Flinging the youth backward with a crisp butterfly suplex, Johnson floats over on to Zyon for the cover. ONE! TWO! Kickout! Rolling back to his feet, Zyon strides backward in an attempt to regain his bearings, but being the consistently destroyer that he is, Johnson smashes the youth under the chin with a European uppercut. With the Unique Youth in a woozy limbo, Johnson plants his knee perfectly into his rival’s sternum, doubling him over for a front face lock. Hoisting the youth into the air, the Canadian looks to deliver a textbook vertical suplex, but Zyon has other ideas as he shifts his weight, which enables him to spin out of his upside down vertical position. Landing on his feet with his next maneuver already in motion, Zyon grabs the Ultimate Fighter in a reverse cravate before descending to the mat with a neck breaker on the unshakable Johnson! Taking a moment to reclaim the energy that was lost in that exchange, both warriors reach their feet at the same time with Zyon stunning the Canadian with a relatively weak forearm. Ignoring the puny strike, Johnson fights back with three consecutive knife-edge chops to the youth’s chest! *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* Clutching his chest like a mother would a newborn, Zyon uses his feet to force the dangerous technician back with a toe kick to the sternum. Forlornly, Zyon’s foot doesn’t quite reach its target as the Ultimate Fighter latches on to his opponent’s foot before it comes in contact with his stomach. Perturbed on the exterior, the glad interior of the youth sends a direct message for Zyon to smack Johnson in the back of the head with an enziguri…. …And the youth obliges. Blasting Johnson NOT in the back of the head, but more along the back of his neck, Zyon break free of the Canadian’s grasp as he immediately takes off for the ropes. Bounding off the ropes while Johnson recovers from his slight neck trauma, Zyon lunges at the Ultimate Fighter with a cross body…THAT CONNECTS! And is then directly transitioned with a simple twist of his body into an amazing power slam counter for the former International Champion. Flopping down across the youth with a lateral press, Johnson secretly knows that this won’t be enough. ONE! TWO! Kickout! “Zyon with a strong kickout. He still has a large amount of energy to spare.” “But then again Mak, so does JJ Johnson.” Lifted to his feet by the strength of his opponent, Zyon stuns the Ultimate Fighter momentarily with a soft jab to the sternum as he looks to take off for the ropes once again. Agitated by the youth’s “hit and run” tactics, Johnson grabs a full hand of hair, and proceeds to whip the long hair youngster to the mat! Instinctively sitting up from the dirty plunge into the mat, Zyon doesn’t quite realize the doom he has positioned himself in. *SMACK!* Sending a shock throughout the youngster’s body with a brutal cowboy kick to the back, Johnson follows up the rejuvenating strike with a top wristlock and another blood sleeper that could spell the end for Zyon!!! “Another Buffalo Sleeper snatched on by the aggressive suplex machine. He seems to be taking the same approach as he did with the spotty, but brilliant Wildchild. Not only does the Buffalo Sleeper keep the high flyers grounded, but it can also win Johnson the match.” “Brilliant.” The Gambling Man adds earning every bit of that paycheck. Struggling earlier than while he was in the previous buffalo sleeper, Zyon quickly drapes his foot under the bottom rope, which warrants the immediate break of the submission. Rushing the winded youth right back to his wobbly feet, Johnson Irish whips the American across the ring, and even with his eyes a bit teary from the sleeper he just broke out of, Zyon can notice the ropes a mile away. Springing off the middle rope, Zyon doesn’t even bother to twist his body into a variation of flips or twists. He simply flings his foot backward, hoping to catch the pitbull like Johnson off guard. Then again this is Johnson’s yard…and pitbulls are always on guard in their yard. Crouching under the springboard back kick that almost caught him off guard, Johnson arrogantly taps his right arm before charging down the warpath. Snapping his arm backward with cruel intensions, Johnson being the heavy hitter that he is swings for the fences… …And to his disappointment and astonishment, the fence maneuvers out of the way with a simple crouch. Stalking the Canadian from behind, Zyon proceeds forward with his arms spread out, which is a definite no-no when battling the Ultimate Fighter who may very well have eyes in the back of his head. *CRACK!* Discharging a blind elbow into the nose of his visibly shaken opponent, Johnson sprints toward the ropes, uncharacteristically springing off the middle rope with the balance of a Zyon or a Wildchild, and stabbing the youth in the forehead region with another blind elbow! This time the impact forces the youth down on to his back, but the time limit for that is only minimal. Ascending back to his feet, slightly taken back by Johnson’s ability to be acrobatic, Zyon is unable to advance on his opponent, who is the first to advance anyway. Diving at the Unique Youth with an OUT OF NOWHERE shotgun lariat, Johnson can damn near taste the satisfaction of beheading his rival. However, once again, Zyon stays low, evading his decapitation and gaining the upper hand on his rival. Hooking his arm under Johnson’s in a reverse single arm chicken wing, Zyon wraps his arm around the Canadian’s head before descending to the mat once more with a neck breaker variation!!! “YEAAHHHH!” The audience explodes as Johnson’s neck could be going through the same type of punishment he has instilled on individual’s arms, legs, head, backs, and just about every other limb that the Ultimate Fighter could annihilate! Looming over his fallen rival with vengeance in his mystical green eyes, Zyon like a shark can smell the blood in the water. And like a shark, the youth will devour Johnson in a brand new strategy that the youth just created due to the circumstances. “Zyon looks like he just found buried treasure or something. Look at him, Mak. He looks a bit off to me.” “King, you could be correct. Then again, Zyon has been able to form a successful strategy by obliterating his opponent’s neck. I figured this would impress you King.” “Nothing from that guy will impress me. Well maybe watching him get dropped on his head, but nothing other than that.” Grabbing Johnson by his perspiration covered head; Zyon flings Johnson into the opposite ropes with an Irish whip. Gambling his control of the match, Zyon takes a quick step back, allowing Johnson to possibly regain his composure. Bouncing off the ropes, Johnson comes sprinting back toward the youth with a chance to grasp control of the match. A chance that is quickly thrown to the wayside as the Unique Youth intelligently drops Johnson throat first across the middle rope with a drop toehold. He continues to stay low. With the city of Seoul up in arms with this awkward turn of events, they watch with a smile across their face as Zyon rebounds off the far ropes, and with an extra spring in his step, leaps high into the air. Choking on his trachea that was just hung across the middle rope, Johnson pushes himself out from the middle rope…BUT HE’S TOO LATE! Zyon crushes him with a heinous knee to the back of the neck, which sends Johnson’s throat crashing into the middle rope once again! Attempting to breathe properly, Johnson is overcome by the wheezing that exits rather than a clear exhale. He’s also overcome by the Unique Youth who steps out to the ring apron, dragging Johnson’s head through the middle rope. Exposing his rival’s neck to his newfound aggressiveness not seen since his war with Hollywood Spike Jenkins at Battleground, Zyon swiftly leaps on to the middle turnbuckle as all of the witnesses (Fans) jump to their feet. Refusing to give his conscience enough time to talk him out of this violent act, Zyon leaps off the middle rope, driving his leg across Johnson’s exposed neck with a second rope guillotine leg drop that sends Johnson spasming back in the ring!!! “What a ruthless attack by Zyon!” “That right Mak, call the good guy out. It’s about time.” “Actually King, I was going to compliment him on the high risk maneuver. You see, I think Zyon has realized what he has to do to Johnson. He has to fight fire with fire. Johnson has always used his anger to devastate his opponent’s with brutal submissions and nasty suplexes. And two, Zyon was smart enough to remain perched on the second rope than ascend another level. Hitting that move from the second rope is much less painful than doing it from the top rope.” “You got all of that out of those last ten seconds of action…well it’s good to know that you have a life…or not.” Clutching his neck inside the ring, Johnson begins to punch the canvas, which isn’t exactly the most yoga way to block out the pain, but hey whatever floats your boat I guess. Marching back into the ring, Zyon hoists Johnson into a front face lock where he immediately struggles to get free. The youth will have none of it though, and with an effortless twist of his hips, Zyon drives his rival neck first into the canvas with a swinging neck breaker!! Rolling under the bottom ropes while his opponent continues to tend to his wounded neck, Zyon latches on to the top rope, launching himself through the environment with a springboard 450 splash that crushes his rival. “Beautiful Dawn 450 splash by Zyon!” Mak with the quick call. Remaining on top of the shell shocked Ultimate Fighter; Zyon hooks the leg as referee Ken Masters drops for the count… ONE! TWO! THKICKOUT! Popping his shoulder off the canvas, Johnson is helped back to his feet by his “best buddy.” Like all “best buddies” Zyon drives the injured Canadian back with a European uppercut! Rebounding off the ropes, Johnson shows signs of life as he absolutely DECKS Zyon with an elbow to the cheek! Scattering away from the Unique Youth, Johnson exits to the outside where he hastily ascends the top turnbuckle. Awake from his minor slumber, Zyon chases up after the Ultimate Fighter, clubbing him in the back of the neck…to which Johnson responds with a mighty shove! Perching himself on the top rope with equal balance as most cruiserweights, Johnson dives on to the standing youth, hooking his arm around Zyon’s head, snapping him to the mat with a flying neck breaker drop!!! “YEAHHHHH!” The crowd comes alive for the rare JJ Johnson acrobatic stunt as the Canadian covers the Unique Youth while clutching his neck. ONE! TWO! THRKICKOUT! “Weak cover by Johnson. I think he was favoring his neck a bit too much for that cover to keep the energetic Zyon down.” “Hard to be energetic after having the air knocked out from you.” King makes a good point. With the crowd evenly cheering both individuals, Johnson rises back to his feet as the Patron Wrestler of Athens does the same. Looking to continue his aggressive nature, Zyon lowers himself once again as he dives in for a double-legged takedown…on a fucking former UFC fighter. We should know how this is going to end. *CRACK* Lobbing the youth’s head into the Namdaemun Gate with an incredible kick to the face, Johnson swiftly maneuvers himself around the stunned youth, trapping him in a hammerlock. Bewildered by Johnson’s ability to sway away from another punishing strike, Zyon struggles to break free of the standard transition hold. “HA! Now you see why I never counted JJ out. While Zyon looked to have picked up some technical skills, it was really all a sham. Anyone could look like a technician when they are dominating the match, but now that Johnson is in control…it’s only a matter of time.” King expresses his discontent for the Unique Youth. Finished playing a game of “Watch this little punk struggle with the simplest of holds” Johnson drops on to his back, transitioning the hammerlock into a Wing Span crossface chicken wing! “YEAHHHHH!” The crowd erupts as Johnson reaches into his dead pool of submission, busting out a maneuver he learned during his training with Jay Hawke and Landon Maddix. Unlike Hawke, Johnson has yet to master the submission, but he does know one thing…it hurts. “Please Don’t TAP!” The crowd chants as Zyon tries to inch his foot closer to the ropes. Using his free hand to claw his way toward the refuge in the ropes, the youth’s vision begins to blur a bit. Shaking the dream of unconsciousness away, Zyon reaches out for the ropes as the Ultimate Fighter releases the submission altogether. Stomping at the youth’s shoulder, Johnson seems to have finally found a plan that could work in his favor. Lifting the youth back to his feet, Johnson tweaks Zyon’s arm as he sets up a short arm SHOTGUN LARIAT!!!! …. …. THAT MISSES AGAIN!!! Saving himself once again from certain decapitation, Zyon shoots behind the Ultimate Fighter, hooking him in a reverse front face lock. Extending his knee, Zyon falls to the canvas, spiking Johnson neck first across his extended knee as he takes back the momentum that was stolen from him. Shouting into the nether, the intense Johnson remains in a sitting position, trying to rub the PAIN out of his neck. Bouncing off the far ropes, Zyon picks up an amazing amount of speed before leaping into the air, and driving both feet into his rival’s neck with a hesitation dropkick!! Pinning Johnson’s shoulders to the mat, Zyon goes for the cover. ONE! TWO!! THREKICKOUT!!! Thrusting his shoulder off the mat, Johnson rises back from the dead to a sitting position where Zyon aggressively drops a knee into the former cruiserweights neck! Visually the Canadian looks the worse he has looked in a long time. He’s battled monster like Janus and TORU. He’s fought the best in Landon Maddix and El Luchadore Magnifico. But tonight it’s quite possible that he came into the match believing he would brawl with a spot monkey. Instead he got a warrior that was determined to deliver the Canadian’s just desserts. Hoisting Johnson back to his feet, Zyon Irish whips the former International Champion across the ring. Rebounding off the ropes, Johnson leapfrogs the lowered youth, much to Zyon’s dismay. Turning back to face Johnson who picks up even more speed as he bounces off the ropes, Zyon’s eyes grow and his muscles twitch as he realizes that he’s screwed. Leaving the ground once again, Triple J hurls himself at the Cruiserweight Champion, stomping him out of existence with a momentum changing YAKUZA KICK!!! “YYYYYEAHAHAHAHH!!!” “Both men have fought a smart battle, which each man refusing to give in. This is awesome!” Mak shouts from his stationary wheel chair. His eyes rolling around in the back of his head like pinballs, Zyon does what he can to get a grip on the situation at hand. He’s controlled the action, strayed away from his suicidal spotty offense, and even worked out a strategy that for all intents and purposes was perfect. Was… Pushing himself back to his feet as his radical rival does the same, Johnson continues to rub his damaged neck as he moves in for the kill. Stomping the Unique Youth in the sternum, Johnson holds him prisoner with a standing head scissor. Lifting with his legs like they teach you to, Johnson lifts Zyon for his Kawada style power bomb…FOOL! The youth though hates those things so he counters magnificently with a hurricarana that Johnson stops midway. Ignoring one of his rival’s legs, Johnson hooks the Unique Youth with a brilliant single legged crab, swaying away from his other target…his rival’s shoulder. Inching his foot closer to the youth’s head, Johnson accidentally gets the crowd behind him with every inch a shuffles before finally… “YEEEEEAAAAHHHH!” …He steps on the youth’s head. Pulling back on the hold while crushing the Cruiserweight Champion’s head, Triple J looks to have tapped into that anger that carries him through the matches that force him to overexert himself. Referee Ken Masters practically begs Zyon to give up as he can slowly hear the youth’s skull give in to the Canadian's weight. Just as it seems the Unique Youth may leave with a ruptured cranium, Johnson releases the hold, immediately transitioning to a fujiwara arm bar!!! “He’s got him. It’s over Mak! Johnson used the single legged crab to tire the youth out, and easily went into the fujiwara. All he has to do his press all his weight down on Zyon’s arm, and it’s over baby.” “That may be so King, but you must remember. Johnson has taken a beating himself. His neck must be aching and he’s probably quite fatigued.” “You always spoil my fun. I hate you.” King deadpans. The Franchise’s prediction begins to garden into fruitation as Johnson struggles to finish his long time rival off. No matter what memories he digs up for motivation, Johnson is unable to snap the youth’s arm in half. Shattering through his own fatigue, Zyon uses his free hand to pull himself toward the ropes. Grinding it out, the youth some how drapes his foot over the bottom rope. Ken Masters doesn’t even get the chance to order Johnson to break the hold as the Canadian immediately releases the youth. Shaking the hurt out of his arm, Zyon is at the mercy of Johnson’s anger as the Ultimate Fighter lifts the youngster back to his feet. Proving to be merciless, Johnson hoists the youth over his shoulder for the OH FUCK…ADF II!!!!! Kicking his feet rapidly while the streets of Seoul pray from the Unique Youth, Zyon slides down Johnson’s back, applying a reverse front face lock that he spins into the WICKED CUTTER!!!! *BANG!!!!!* ONEEEEEE!!!!! TWOOOOO!!! “This beat him before!!!!” Mak is able to chime in. THRRRRRREEEEEENOOOOOOOO! “YESSSS! He kicked out. Oh my god that was too close.” Zyon can’t deny the disappointment in his facial expressions as he sloppily lifts Johnson into a front face lock. Suddenly, the Ultimate Fighter’s muscles tense as he hoists the Unique Youth up for a northern lights suplex. With Zyon at the peak of the suplex, Johnson begins to struggles allowing the youth to drop back down to his feet, spiking Johnson into the mat with a NASTY DDT!!! “Did you see his neck, King?” “YEAH IT WAS THE MOST FUCKED UP THING EVER!!!” “King you’re a bit emotional. “No I’m just giving the type of over hyped answer you want. Since you ask me all the time if I see something or not you pathetic cripple.” Rolling on to the incompaciated Ultimate Fighter, Zyon bobs his head to the count… ONEEEEE! TWOOOOO!! THREEEENOPPPPPEEEE!!! Staring a hole in the referee, Zyon swears that was three. Cursing like a banshee, the youth helps his rival back to his feet, planting him in the face with a wicked forearm to the face. Holding his opponent in check with another front face lock, Zyon leaps into the air, applying a body scissors as he takes Johnson to the canvas. “Look he’s pretending again. Zyon is the new Matt Myers!!” The Gambling Man shouts hysterically. Cranking on his rival’s neck, Zyon hopes to end this battle with an unheard of JJ Johnson tap out. The UFC specialist reverts back to his early career as he spreads his legs far out, and lifts himself to a standing doubled over position. With a grunt, Zyon evolves the body scissor sleeper into a triangle choke by grappling his opponent’s arm and trapping it in a web of despair. It would certainly be game over for the Ultimate Fighter if he hasn’t been in this position about a thousand times, and each time he breaks free the same way. This isn’t Alcatraz. This is a spot monkey attempting MMA. Lifting with his legs, eliciting a loud roar from the city of Seoul, Johnson has the Unique Youth at the peak for the power bomb…FOOL! “What strength! What heart! This man is phenomenal!” Mak marks out better than the UFC announcers did for Matt Hughes. Zyon refuses to let his rival steal the spotlight as he releases the choke, extending his legs back to the canvas with Johnson’s arm still in his clutches. Standing on his feet, Zyon looks his rival right square in the eye… …As he unleashes DOOM on to the Canadian as he takes him to the canvas with the GOUKI CROSSFACE!!!!!! “GASP!!!!” The hyper audience rocks it’s very own foundation as Zyon reels back on the submission. All the neck work has added up over time, and now the youth looks to finish the equation as he pulls back on Johnson’s neck. Bobbing his head, moving his long hair out of his fiery eyes, Zyon continues to bring Johnson the pain he’s brought to so many. The youth isn’t a messiah or savior, but he is a pissed off individual that’s been dropped on his head and tortured by the honorable Canadian. Johnson’s hand waivers over the canvas as his struggle isn’t so much a struggle as it is a twitch. Feeling the Ultimate Fighter collapse in his hands, the youth can’t help but smile… …A smile that hides behind having your soul crushed by the resilient Canadian who uses his knowledge of everything to ROLL THROUGH THE CROSSFACE!!!! “YEAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The audience explodes while King and Mak are caught up in this desperate fight for survival as Zyon rolls through the pin attempt, placing Johnson back in the crossface!!!! Now the cold Canadian begins to shake. He begins to rattle. And as his neck begins to tear and he stares Mak in the eyes…and in the neck brace. The impenetrable warrior has to make a decision. The same decision that the Divine Wind made. The hand no longer waivers on the canvas as it smacks the canvas… TAPNOOOOOOOO! He’s not Mak. He’s not Akira Kaibatsu. He’s JJ fucking Johnson. Palming the canvas, Johnson scoots himself closer to the ropes, draping his free arm across the bottom rope, FORCING ZYON TO BREAK THE HOLD!!!!! “YEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!” “HE DID IT!” Now King marks out unable to hide his excitement. Everyone is up in arms as the great match continues…well everyone, but the Unique Youth who looks like he’s the one that’s finished. Back peddling away from the notorious angry Canadian citizen, Zyon is shocked by Johnson’s ability to withstand that type of punishment. Sweating like a mad man, the youth slowly stalks his prey. Johnson refuses to play dead as he pushes himself back to his feet much to the youth’s dismay. Shaking his head, Johnson arrogantly cracks his neck in front of the frightened youth! “YEEEAAAHHH!” Can we say badass? Latching on to the youth’s trembling arm, Johnson Irish whips Zyon across the ring…or that was the plan anyway. Pivoting his foot, the youth switches the roles as he sends the Ultimate Fighter toward the turnbuckle. Expecting the standard Canadian chest bump into the turnbuckle, Zyon foolishly charges in after the Ontario native. Reaching into his secret stash of flash, Johnson runs up the ropes, flipping behind the youth with a Dragon Flip! Locking his hands behind the youth, Johnson sets up for the Dangerous German as the scared youth holds on to the top rope for dear life. While embracing the top rope, Zyon remembers whom he is facing. JJ Johnson = Elbows *CRACK!* Blasting Johnson with an elbow, Zyon forgets his fear of facing the Canadian. He is human after all. Ascending the top rope with his back to the Ultimate Fighter, Zyon prepares himself for flight. All stations are go, but he is not allowed to take off. Oh yeah, he’s missing his wings and the instruction manual. First page… …Don’t turn your back to JJ Johnson! Joining the youth on the top rope, Johnson gives the youth his wings as he applies a full nelson…awwwwwwwww shit! Korea explodes due to the continuity between the two as Johnson with a visual smirk prepares to kill Zyon. “Johnson’s gonna kill you…” The fans chant. A chant that’s hasn’t been heard since Triple J’s outing with ELM. However, it couldn’t be truer. Yet the times have changed and Zyon realizes that it’s go big or die. Leaping off the top rope under his own power, Zyon smashes his ass across the ring apron as the top rope decimates Johnson’s throat!!!! “Amazing counter by the youth!!!” Backing away from the ropes as he turns his back to the Unique Youth who cares to his tailbone, Johnson clutches his damaged throat. Lifting himself on to the ring apron, Zyon prepares for flight, and readies to add another chapter in his story titled… …Don’t turn your back on Zyon! Springing off the top rope the youth sets up for his superman springboard forearm smash from HELL, but Johnson is all “Ok…and now you die.” Twitching at the notion of obliterating the youth, Johnson spins around to meet the courageous Cruiserweight Champion with an OK NOW YOU’VE PISSED ME OFF WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE TO THE WEST OF DEATH’S DOOR IN THE SOUTHEAST SECTION OF OBLIVION WHERE I WILL BURY YOUR ASHES FROM THIS OVERLY DESCRIPTIVE RUN ON SENTENCE THAT HELPS PUT JJ VS VA’AIGA AT THE PPV OVER IN A BIG WAY MURDER DEATH KILL YOU’VE FUCKED UP NOW MOTHERFUCKER SHOTGUN LARIATOOOOOOOOOOO ~ that sends the youth’s legs collapsing over his shoulders from the impact! “OH…MY…GOD!!” Johnson weakly falls on to the motionless Unique Youth… ONEEEEEEEEE!!!! TWOOOOOOO!!! Place your bets… … … THREEEEEEEENOOOOOO!!! With a mighty twitch, Zyon tosses his shoulder off the mat as JJ Johnson looks about ready to implode. Staring at his half dead rival, Johnson wonders over toward the ropes, and heads up top once again. The fans surrounding the ring rise to their feet as Johnson prepares for his fatal knee attack known as the Damage Done!! Fighting through the pain in his neck, Johnson wishes he could ice up and go home to rest up for his big duel at the PPV with the Maori Badass. But fucking Smarkdown needed their ratings. And by god they’re going to get them. Pushing himself off the canvas, Zyon’s vision is all but static as he tries to focus in on the figure struggling to reach the top rope. His head pounding from so many causes ranging from the recent lariat to the memories of the SUPER DRAGON SUPLEX that scrambled his brains many months ago. Through the smog that accompanies his daze, Zyon can finally see a weakness in his Ultimate rival. It’s clear as the night’s sky. Lumbering over to the top rope, Zyon sprints up the ropes, blasting the wobbly Canadian with a wicked elbow to the face. *CRACK!* Johnson takes the elbow like a champ, like a natural born fighter. And like a natural born fighter, he’s willing to take on all challenges, including his latest daunting task. His muscles temporarily quit on him as Zyon grasps for one last burst of youth energy as he traps Triple J in a front face lock. Hoisting the Ultimate Fighter vertically, Zyon gracefully leaps backward, impaling Johnson’s head into the canvas with an AVALANCHE BRAIN BUSTER!!!!! He loves the challenge. Let’s see him get out of this one. Seoul is under the control of rabid fans who scream their head off after watching the Ultimate Fighter go limp due to the SICK angle his neck was spiked into the mat. Zyon finds his final burst of nitro to drape his arm over his rival’s chest… ONEEEEEE!!! TWOOOOOOO!!!! THREEEEEEEEE!!!!! DING DING DING!!! “It’s over…” “King you have a right to be exhausted, but don’t feel bad for the Ultimate Fighter. He’s made a living dropping people on their heads. Karma has just decided to choose this time to pay him back. Now he’s going into 13th Hour clear of all of his sins as he takes on the Maori Badass.” Mak goes all sentimental as Johnson is knocked out cold. “The winner…the UNIQUE YOUTH…ZYYYOON!!!” Funyon bellows, as Zyon sure doesn’t look like a winner. He looks like a man that won the battle, but deep down knows the war isn’t over. Sure it’s poetic justice to stop his rival with the ultimate of head drops, but it’s JJ Johnson. He’s been knocked out before. He’ll be knocked out again. And he comes back stronger each time. Zyon rolls out of the ring, dragging his cruiserweight title up the aisle as he takes one last look at his rival. The rival that forced him to submit. The rival that forced his shoulders down for three seconds. The rival that knocked him out. The rival that lies motionless in the ring. The man that helps him put on great matches every time they wage war against one another. Oh yeah…it’s not over. Not by a long shot. Fade.

Being on the front lawn of the Seoul Namdaemun Gate leaves little room for offices and arena corridors for one to be walking through. Nevertheless there are a few tents set up for the sake of those such as Joseph Peters and other high-rankers, one of which includes a seven foot behemoth. Striding from a hastily set-up tent with "Head of Security" written on it, the Hell Machine is patrolling the fenced off areas where only SWF staff and security are allowed to tread, seeking a certain figure. Giving little pause to speak to other superstars, the giant checks inside a tent here and a tent there, apparently with no luck whatsoever. "Janus!" The voice of Joseph Peters makes the Australian tilt their head and turn, and were they wearing their trenchcoat it would billow out behind them. But the giant wears a suave white tuxedo, complete with purple shirt and red tie. Following the call of the SWF commissioner, the giant follows Peters into his tent where they find the man sitting now sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled. Knowing he has no chance of trying to sound angry and intimidating to a seven foot behemoth, Peters simply spreads his hands over his desk in a 'why me?' gesture before speaking again. "Why didn't you stop Spike from doing what he did last show?" "It's not in our contract." "Your contract..." Peters begins to speak, but Janus cuts him off by simply resting a hand on his desk. "Our contract is to ensure no unwanted faces or illegal individual make entrance into the designated areas the show is taking place in. It also states we will do our best to ensure that there are no deliberate injurings of SWF superstars by others. And while she had the correct identification to enter the show, Rashelle is not an SWF superstar. She does not fall under our jurisdiction." "You don't care that a young woman..." "No, Peters. We don't." the giant answers flatly, red eyes gleaming. "And now I have a question for you. Aecas?" "Not booked this show. No-one's seen him." With a low grunt, the Hell Machine turns away from the commissioner and stalks back out of the tent. Having searched the area to little luck, they make their way back towards their own tent, which now has a figure standing outside it. She wears a sleek blue tuxedo with a white shirt and black tie, and she adjusts it absently before looking up at the giant as they approach, eyes hidden behind dark glasses as she brushes a hand through long purple-and-black hair. The seven foot Australian stops briefly to confer with her, and leans over for her to speak into their ear, before nodding their head and proceeding into his tent. Within the tent is a small desk quickly set up for the Head of Security to sit at, and they do just that, eyeing the object sitting there. It is an indiscriminate box, with no markings save for the fact it was addressed to them, and possessed no return address. The Hell Machine finally gives in and opens the box, reaching within and pulling out a small card. They unfold it and peers at the writing therein, raising an eyebrow. Somewhere in the depths of their united mind, Terrence and Janus give each other an odd look, and then the big man puts the card down on the table. "Gone to Japan. Look after him for me." the big man rumbles, finally opening the rest of the box. The first thing revealed is a sparkling barbed wire halo, and then the soft gleaming red petals of a rose. A little black bow tie affixed to the thorny stem follows, and the rest of the box falls away to show a ceramic pot. Does this surprise you at all, Terrence? Not particularly. For the object sitting on his desk? Reggie.

Smarkdown comes back from a commercial for Winston & Sons Giraffe Repair, Fixing Your Broken Giraffes Since 1372. The crowd packed around the Namdaemun Gate remains raucous, partly due to toxic laughing gas being sprayed at five minute intervals, but also the wrestling has been damn good. Don't take my word for it, take Mak Francis' word. "Welcome back to Smarkdown, live from the front lawn of the Namdaemun Gate in Seoul, South Korea! We've had some great matches so far, and now it's just about time for some tag team action," Francis explains. "The Dead Precedents are going to literally murder The New Doomtopians, I'm telling you," King replies. "I doubt that such a thing would be allowed to occur, but if they do, then they'd be the new tag team champions, as The New Doomtopians are defending their newly won gold tonight. This match was set up on Lockdown last week, when The Dead Precedents became number one contenders, and The New Doomtopians defeated the former champions, JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins. I'm not sure why this match isn't being saved for Thirteenth Hour, but I'm sure that it not being in a Pay Per View setting won't diminish the quality of the action," Mak states. "Maybe The Dead Precedents have some Oat Toast thing set up for Sunday," King says. "Ugh, don't get me started on that shit. You know, I think those morons are the only people to even talk about that other federation. Hell, before they brought it up, I thought it had gone under." "You do know why nobody else talks about it, right?" King asks. "Because it fucking sucks whale dick?" Francis ponders. "Exactly right. It fucking sucks whale dick." Before King and Mak can further discuss the shittiness of OAOAST, Metallica's "Welcome Home (Sanatorium)" rips over the speakers. Wayne Blank walks out, big brother Bruce right behind him. Wayne leads Bruce down to the ring, then jogs to the back as Bruce rolls inside. Blank rises to his feet and the lights go out. A blood red spotlight illuminates the center of the ring to reveal Bloodshed. The lights snap back on and The Dead Precedents begin to plot out the match at hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation tag team championship! Introducing first, standing the ring, the challengers! Weighing in at five hundred, twenty-five pounds, Bruce Blank and Bloodshed, The Dead Precedents!" Funyon exclaims. The lights quickly change to orange as Metallica is usurped by Incredibad's "Just 2 Guyz". The Doomtopian Destroyer and Jimmy the Doom emerge first, with Lois the Unethical, burdened by both tag titles, several steps behind. "And their opponents, the champions! Being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, they weigh five hundred, fifteen pounds and hail from Doomopolis, Doomtopia. The Straight-Bread Sensation, Jimmy the Doom, and the Doomtopian Destroyer, they are The New Doomtopians!" Funyon shouts. Jimmy and the Doomstroyer roll inside the ring while Lois makes her way around to hand the belts off to Funyon. After a few seconds of discussion, the Straight-Bread Sensation exits the ring, leaving the Doomstroyer inside with Blank. Referee Nick Soapdish checks both men for concealed weapons, but is unable to find anything, so he calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! The two big men circle, trying to find an opening to exploit. The Doomstroyer fires off a right hook that cracks Blank in the jaw. Bruce shakes off the blow and drives a forearm into the Doomtopian's face. The Destroyer stumbles backwards, and Blank presses forward with a stiff right jab. Blank grabs the Doomtopian Destroyer by the arm and whips him to the ropes. The champ bounces back and takes to the air, but Bruce slams a double axhandle into his gut in mid-air. Blank slips behind the Doomstroyer, wraps him up, and yanks the Doomtopian to the mat with a Russian leg sweep. Bruce climbs off the mat and begins lacing into the Destroyer with stomps. Soapdish tries to drag Blank off of the Doomtopian, but is unable to budge the big guy. "Bruce Blank has taken firm control of this match and is stomping the life out of the Doomtopian Destroyer right now," Francis states. "It really looks like Blank is trying to kick his whale fellating ways by kicking some ass," King comments. "It'll take a lot more than stomping the Doomstroyer to stop Blank from sucking whale cock," Mak points out. "So very true, Mak. Winning the tag titles would help a lot, though," King notes. Blank remains at the Doomstroyer's side, but not in a concerned friend role, more of a stomping the shit out of an opponent role. Jimmy the Doom, unable to contain his infamous Doomtopian temper, hops into the ring and sprints for Bruce. The 'King of Pain' spies the Straight-Bread Sensation heading for him, and Blank decides to be courteous and greets Doom with a big boot to the face. GRAVIMETER! Jimmy hits the deck, or more accurately, the mat, but quickly springs back to his feet. Doom stares up at Blank and smacks him with a double palm thrust to the jaw. Bruce hardly moves as a result of the blow, but he moves plenty to nail Jimmy with a right cross. Doom moves as well, away from Blank, for a moment before putting on the brakes. Jimmy closes the distance in a second and nails the 'Trailer Park Messiah' with a corkscrew back elbow. Once again, Bruce barely reacts to the strike, but before he can retaliate, Nick Soapdish grabs Doom around the waist and drags him towards The New Doomtopians' corner. Meanwhile, what with the distractions, Bloodshed has had ample time to enter the ring and size up the Doomstroyer, currently on all fours. Bloodshed bounces off the ropes and fires a dropkick into the top of the Destroyer's head. "Sneaky bit of double teaming by The Dead Precedents, though I don't think Bruce Blank knows it," Mak says. "It sure as hell worked better than whatever Jimmy the Doom just did. He hardly phased Blank with that attack," King points out. "It is hard to rock a big guy like Blank, but the same can be said of Doom," Francis adds. "That's for sure. However, if Bloodshed and Jimmy the Doom start trading blows, we might be here for a while," the Heartbreaker notes. Blank turns around, sees the Destroyer flat on his back, and shakes out his meaty right arm. Bruce hauls the Doomtopian off the mat, grabs him by the wrist, and pulls him in for a short-arm clothesline. The Doomstroyer manages to duck under and he clasps his hands together, forcing Blank's own arm across his throat. "That's the same choke hold the Doomtopian Destroyer used last week against 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins!" Francis exclaims. "It didn't work last time and it won't work now," King mutters. "What makes you so sure? Bruce Blank is nowhere near the technical skill level of Spike Jenkins," Mak points out. "Oh, of course not! But, Blank is a lot stronger than Jenkins, and besides, JJ Johnson broke the hold last week, and I would imagine that Bloodshed would do the same if Bruce doesn't manage to do it on his own," King states. Blank flails as Soapdish asks the big Alabaman if he'd like to submit. Bruce nearly smacks Nick for asking such a question, but just misses, keeping the match going. Blank grabs at the Doomstroyer's mask and tries to force his opponent's head away, but he's at too awkward an angle to get much strength behind the effort. Blank starts to sag a bit, which prompts the Doomstroyer to tighten his grip, as well as prompt Bloodshed to finally intervene. Bloodshed walks up to the Doomstroyer and peppers him with lefts and rights to the face. Unable to take the onslaught any more, the Doomtopian sweeps Blank to the mat and nails Bloodshed with a left hook, a right cross, and then a back hand smack that sends Alan Clark on his ass and sliding across the mat. EBULIENT! "Pimp smack yo dumb ass! He's the Juggernaut, bitch!" Francis shouts. "No, he's the Doomstroyer, bitch!" King corrects. Blood trickling down his face, the Apostle climbs to his feet and charges the Destroyer. Bloodshed ducks under a clothesline, spins around, and boots the big Doomtopian in the stomach. Clark kicks the Doomstroyer again, cinches in a front facelock, and sends him to the mat with a DDT. At that moment, Jimmy the Doom enters the ring, but is pushed back outside by Nick Soapdish, desperate to regain control of the match. The referee forces Bloodshed back to his corner as well, leaving a downed Doomstroyer and kneeling Blank in the ring. Bruce gets to his feet, a bit woozy from the choke, and tags in Bloodshed, who is living up to his name very well. Bloodshed looks down at the Doomstroyer and rolls him over. The Apostle turns his back on the Doomtopian and back flips, landing a moonsault on the champion, and staying down for a lateral press. ONE! TW-No! "Shoulder up from the Doomtopian Destroyer, and he probably needs to tag in Jimmy the Doom," Francis states. "I hope he doesn't. It would be much easier for The Dead Precedents to win the tag titles with the Doomstroyer in the ring," King laments. Bloodshed pulls the Doomstroyer off the mat and knees him in the stomach. Bloodshed slaps on a front facelock, but is unable to execute his intended manuever as the Doomtopian Destroyer lifts him up and drives Bloodshed into the mat with a spinebuster. The Destroyer drags Clark back to his feet and tosses him at The New Doomtopians' corner. The Doomtopian staggers after the Apostle and tags in the Straight-Bread Sensation. Jimmy remains outside the ring momentarily, as both he and the Doomstroyer land right hands to Bloodshed's face at the same time. IGNOMINY! Bloodshed stumbles out of the corner, and gets whipped into the ropes by the Doomstroyer. Jimmy vaults into the ring and is grabbed around the waist by the Destroyer. The Apostle bounces back and the Doomtopian Destroyer flings the Straight-Breader at him. TINTINNABULATION! "What a flying kick from Jimmy the Doom, with a nice assist from the Doomtopian Destroyer. The New Doomtopians might be getting the upperhand now," Mak says. "Damn you, God! What have I done wrong to be punished so?!" King shouts. "Uh, just about your entire wrestling career?" Francis offers. "Oh, yeah, that. Still, it's not fair," the Heartbreaker grumbles. The Doomstroyer exits the ring before Soapdish can begin to threaten disqualification in an angry rant, and Jimmy makes a lateral press on the downed and bloodier Clark. ONE! TWO-No! "And Bloodshed kicks out! He's a very tough nut to crack," Mak says. "Sure, jst ask Wayne Blank," King mumbles. "What was that?" Francis asks. "Oh, you know, the usual. Your mother being fat and promiscuous and you being a useless cripple," King replies nonchalantly. Doom pulls Bloodshed into a seated position, gets down on one knee behind the Apostle, and sinks in a tight head vice. Soapdish curses under his breath, knowing what's going to happen next, and asks Bloodshed if he'd like to submit. Alan smirks and is barely able to restrain himself from flat-out laughin in the referee's face, clearly not giving Jimmy's hold any respect, as well he should. Bloodshed plants both hands on the mat and tries to push himself up, but the Straight-Bread Sensation has the advantage of leverage, not to mention pure strength. The two combined make for an annoying pickle Bloodshed currently finds himself in. Clark pulls his legs towards his body, trying to switch to a kneeling pose, and he manages to do so. However, that just makes is child's play for Jimmy the Doom to force Bloodshed forward, trapping him in a back-mounted head vice. Once more Soapdish questions Bloodshed's willingness to continue, and once again, is laughed at. "Wow, a head vice. How deadly," Mak deadpans. "Oh, my, yes. Bloodshed must be unnaturally tough to have not yet submitted to such a dangerous and cripplingly painful hold," King adds. "And now it's back-mounted to boot," the Franchise points out. "Does that even make a difference?" King asks quietly. "Probably not, I mean, Doom isn't even pulling back on Bloodshed's head to strain the neck," Mak replies in sotto-voce. Slightly worried that the seemingly-innocuous hold is draining his partner's energy, Blank enters the ring, a movement that catches both Soapdish and the Doomstroyer's attention. The ref walks away from his post in front of Bloodshed, while the Doomtopian Destroyer steps in front of the Straight-Bread Sensation, making it known to Bruce that any attempted break up of the submission would require going through the beefy bodyguard. Bruce contemplates charging anyway, but Soapdish is nearly ready to begin his disqualifying count, so the 'King of Pain' decides to let Bloodshed find a way out. The Doomstroyer walks back to the corner, but stops by Jimmy and kneels down, presumably to whisper some strategic idea to his partner. Soapdish turns around to find everything the way it was, Bloodshed trapped in a back-mounted head vice at the hands of Jimmy the Doom, and the Doomtopian Destroyer outside the ring, tag rope looped around his wrist. Suddenly, the Straight-Breader flips Bloodshed over, and using his lengthy frame, arches out to form the smallest of bridges. Nick slides down to count the pin attempt. ONE! TWO! TH-No! Bloodshed rolls over, but Doom uses the momentum to roll once more, putting Clark's shoulders flush against the mat again. ONE! TWO! TH-No! The Apostle plants one hand on the mat and shoves, breaking the pin and putting himself within reach of the ropes. Bloodshed grabs hold of the bottom strand, but before Soapdish can register it, the Doomstroyer stomps on Alan's hand. Clark pulls his limb back in, and the Straight-Bread Sensation manages to roll him over once more. ONE! TWO! THRE-No! "Another kick out by Bloodshed! I wasn't even aware that a bridge could be made from a head vice, but Jimmy the Doom was really stretching his body to its fullest," Mak states. "I think that if Bloodshed lost a match due to a bridged head vice, he should be forced to jump off a cliff. Bruce Blank would probably make him," King replies. "It is odd, but Jimmy the Doom is a pretty competent wrestler at times. He did challenge for the International title on Battleground, and gave then-champion Wildchild a run for his money," Francis points out. "I don't care! It's a fuckin' head vice!" King exclaims. Doom shimmies his body towards Bloodshed's head, getting a better grip on his opponent, something very important with all of the blood in the ring, mostly on Bloodshed's cranium. Jimmy pulls back on the Apostle, putting him first in a kneeling position, then finally back to a vertical base. Walking backwards, the Straight-Bread Sensation drags Clark towards The New Doomtopians' corner, where the Doomstroyer has his right hand raised in the air, perhaps in an attempt to absorb or channel the power of past Doomtopians. Jimmy whips around just as the Doomtopian Destroyer lashes out with a vicious punch, connecting not with Bloodshed's heart, but the middle of his face. "HAVA NAGILA!" UNGULATE! The force of the blow knocks both Bloodshed and Jimmy backwards, and Doom rolls up the Apostle, switching from a head vice to a more standard rear waistlock. Blank is already in the ring as Soapdish gets down to count the pin. ONE! Bruce is half-way to Doom and Bloodshed, while the Doomstroyer still hasn't realized the 'Trailer Park Messiah' is in the ring. TWO! The Doomtopian Destroyer finally notices Blank in the ring and climbs in while Bruce remains on course. THREE-NO! "Bruce saved Bloodshed!" Mak screams. "He broke up that bridge, and this match continues!" "Thank you, sweet fancy Moses!" King yells. Both Nick Soapdish and and Jimmy the Doom are on their feet, and both, along with the Doomstroyer, are livid. Blank merely shrugs as Doom closes in and pokes him in the throat with the tips of his fingers. Bruce sputters and gags as Jimmy slips behind. The Straight-Bread Sensation grabs the 'King of Pain' in a reverse facelock as the Doomstroyer snares Bruce's legs. The New Doomtopians hoist Blank off the mat and drive him into the canvas. "Spiked Doom Driver! Of sorts," Francis says. "Ah, dumping a guy on his head. Now that's some fine teamwork. Of course, it should be The Dead Precedents doing it, but I appreciate good double teaming regardless of who does it," King replies. The New Doomtopians drag Bloodshed back to their corner and the Doomstroyer exits the ring. It's only momentarily as Jimmy tags him in. The Doomstroyer pulls Bloodshed up and places Clark on his shoulders while the Straight-Bread Sensation vaults to the top rope. The Destroyer backs up, giving Jimmy ample room, who then jumps off, grabbing the Apostle by the head. At the same time, the Doomtopian Destroyer shoves Bloodshed forward and sits out. Everything culminates in Bloodshed getting his face smashed into the mat. Jimmy slides outside the ring and the Doomstroyer flips Clark over for a pin. ONE! TWO! THREE! Referee Nick Soapdish jumps up and signals for the bell. DING! DING! DING! "Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match, and still Smarks Wrestling Federation tag team champions, The New Doomtopians!" Funyon yells. Incredibad's "Just 2 Guyz" blares over the speakers again as Lois the Unethical hands the titles to the two male Doomtopians. "The champions retain in a thrilling match! I'm not sure what that move was that won them the match, but I did spot the Doom Factor," Mak notes. "It's probably called something stupid like the Potato Lobster Doorknob," King grumbles. "And damn Bruce Blank and Bloodshed for losing to those dorks." The champions head back to celebrate, leaving The Dead Precedents to play the blame game as Smarkdown fades to a commercial.

“Welcome back fans, we are here in South Korea and we’re about to see two old adversaries go at it again,” Mak Francis says, “the Insane Luchadore Andrew Rickmen, who is one of the longest-running competitors in the SWF-” “Yeah, how long has Looch been 23 for?” King asks curiously, cutting in. “-and Michael Stephens, who as Toxxic engaged in several memorable matches against Rickmen-” “-winning them all,” the Gambling Man finishes. However Mak can say anything else and King can cut him off again the grinding guitars of Alice In Chains’ ‘Man In A Box’ starts up, leading to a positive response from the open-air crowd! “RICK-MEN!” “RICK-MEN!” The song kicks up and there is a brief burst of black and red pyro that flashes up before Andrew Rickmen makes his way out into the evening air, the Insane One throwing his arms in the air and milking the cheers from the crowd. After a few seconds of this Rickmen suddenly bursts into action and sprints down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as he goes before shooting under the bottom rope and springing to his feet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall; introducing first, from Easton, Pennsylvania! He weighs in tonight at 221lbs; he is YOUR Psychotic Hero, the IN-SAAAAAAAAAAAANE… LUUUUUUUCHADORRRRRRRRRRRE!!” “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Rickmen climbs the turnbuckles and raises his arms to encourage more cheers from the fans, the skull of the Misfits staring out from his shirt and mirroring his own rather wild-eyed expression. The Korean fans don’t care about the possible mental instability of the first entrant and display their approval with more cheers, until suddenly a chant rolls out through the night air… ‘COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!’ ‘COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!’ With that, ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire kicks up, the crashing opening chord finally resolving into a distinctive bassline and then the signature jagged riff. The portable Smarktron, up until now showing some of the Insane Luchadore’s more dangerous exploits, fades down to black and jagged white letters flash up a familiar phrase, one word after another: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ More clips flash up, this time of the Insane Luchadore’s opponent. Several of them feature a man with spiky black hair and eyeliner (including a couple of shots of the Philadelphia All-Show Brawl, a sight that makes Rickmen’s jaw tighten slightly), a few new ones show a man with longer hair and no visible make-up; facing down Landon Maddix; applying the RTF II to David Cross; throwing his signature pose to an ecstatic crowd. Then the shot changes, as it always does, to Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Stephens Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!* -explosion of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman as the main riff kicks in! And then, through the flame and smoke… “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …with the Korean crowd chanting the name he was known by for so long… “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …hair hanging down and wearing a red England away shirt in honour of his home country’s 6-0 thumping of Jamaica at the weekend in their last friendly before the World Cup… “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …comes the man who ended Rickmen’s one-and-only run with the ICTV Title. “AND HIS OPPONENT!” Funyon booms, trying to drown out the thunderous chants of the crowd, “from Nottingham, England, he weighs in tonight at 218lbs; this is MIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Stephens cracks his neck from side-to-side as he stares down at the ring which contains a man he’s faced time after time; faced and beaten admittedly, but never easily. Stephens doesn’t mimic Rickmen’s mad rush down to the squared circle; instead he walks slowly and carefully down the ramp, slapping hands with fans almost absent-mindedly as he goes, before pausing at the bottom of the ramp. Once there he crosses his arms in the traditional straight-edge ‘X’ sign, but only for a moment before throwing them wide, palms flat to the floor, in the pose that he made famous from his first match in the company! *BOOOM!* More red pyro erupts from each turnbuckle as he does so, timed to coincide with the first verse of ‘Rookie’, but the Insane Luchadore doesn’t flinch. Instead he grabs the top rope, pulls back and launches himself over the top with a plancha that causes him to land on top of the surprised and unprepared Michael Stephens! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The Korean fans are quite happy with such an unadulterated display of high-flying and aggression, and despite the fact that Rickmen didn’t bother waiting for the bell, or indeed for his opponent to enter the ring, they cheer heartily! “The Insane Luchador wasting no time here,” Mak Francis says, “he took a loss at the hands of Tom Flesher the other week-” “-as if there was going to be any other result,” King puts in. “-and it could well be that he wants to get off to a good start against Michael Stephens, a man he’s never beaten,” Francis continues, silently swearing that spinal injury or not, the next time King interrupts him he’s going to get bitchslapped upside the head. Meanwhile the Insane One has recovered from his aerial journey and takes the chance to fire a few punches off at Michael Stephens while he’s on top of his opponent, then gets up and raises his arms in salute of the fans. They respond by cheering even louder… “RICK-MEN!” “RICK-MEN!” …and Rickmen caps it off by delivering a jumping kneedrop to Michael Stephens’ forehead! The three-time World Champion rolls away clutching his skull and Rickmen, sensing weakness, pursues with kicks to the ribs! Stephens isn’t going to chased off like a bitch though, and he makes a grab for Rickmen’s right foot and catches it, causing the Insane Luchadore to hop uncertainly on his left. The Sensation starts to rise back to his feet, keeping Rickmen unstable enough to make an enzuigiri or gamengiri attempt out of the question, then hooks his right leg behind Rickmen’s standing one and pulls, taking his opponent’s vertical base out from under him and dumping him onto his back! “That was actually a reasonably well-executed takedown,” Mak says in surprise, “not what I would have expected from Michael Stephens outside the ring.” Stephens reaches down and grabs Rickmen’s left leg before tucking one leg under each arm, hoisting his opponent partly off the floor to position his legs under the Insane One’s ass, then falls back to slingshot Rickmen up into a steel ringpost! *THUNK!* The Insane Luchadore staggers away from the impact, but amazingly he turns around and yells a challenge at Michael Stephens as the Englishman gets back to his feet! Stephens looks surprised, but charges at his opponent anyway… and Rickmen ducks his head at the last moment, sending Stephens flying up over his head and clean over the steel ring steps behind him with a back bodydrop, finishing with a hard landing on the protective mats beyond! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “The Insane Luchadore living up to his name there,” Francis says as the Korean crowd cheers the American’s unnatural resilience, “shrugging off a blow to the head that would have floored most men!” “Hey, there’s so few braincells left in there he could play Russian roulette with a fully-loaded gun,” King quips. Rickmen isn’t quite that hardcore, given that he’s still a bit wobbly after his collision with the steel post, but he’s perfectly able to climb the ring steps to the apron, then walk along until he’s in the perfect position to take advantage of Michael Stephens as the Englishman gets back to his feet. Rickmen stalks him, waits until Stephens is turning towards him before diving off the apron with a crossbody… *SMACK!* …and catches a dropkick to the chest, Stephens seeing him coming at the last moment and pulling out a desperation counter! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “I wish these people would make up their minds who they want to win,” King grumbles. “They’re simply showing appreciation for two athletes giving their all,” Mak says. “Note how I called them ‘athletes’, not ‘wrestlers’.” “You really are an elitist bastard at times, aren’t you?” King sneers at the former amateur wrestler sitting next to him. “Hey, I respect Looch for being able to take a chairshot to the head, get up and call for more,” Francis says, “and I respect Stephens because he beat me, clean, to retain the World Title. They’re both good at what they do, but I wouldn’t call what they do ‘wrestling’.” “So you’re not going to be doing a hard sell for Toxxic vs. Maddix at 13th Hour?” King asks, as both men in the match start getting to their feet while Brian Warner shouts at them to get inside so he can actually call for the opening bell, “you’re not likely to get much matwork in that!” “In terms of the atmosphere, the rivalry, the drama, and the determination of both men involved, it should be a classic,” Francis states as Stephens grabs Rickmen by the head, rams said head into the apron and then rolls his opponent under the bottom rope. “If I want to watch wrestling I’d be better served watching whichever match Tom is in, even if he has turned into an asshole.” With that possibly-harsh but almost-certainly-true analysis from the Franchise Michael Stephens hops up to the apron and for a moment seems to be considering doing some sort of slingshot move into the ring onto the Insane Luchadore, but the Englishman reconsiders and simply steps through the ropes, finally allowing referee Warner to ring the bell! *DING-DING-DING!* Rickmen has already started to get up and Stephens snapmares him over again, then sits down behind his opponent and threads his legs underneath Rickmen’s arms to apply what is effectively a seated full nelson, only using different limbs to apply it. “OK, Toxxic’s using a resthold,” King says, “someone pinch me to make sure I’m not dreaming, because if the Editor of SpotMonkey Weekly is doing this, then I must be.” “This is a sensible strategy,” Francis returns, “Stephens was taken off-guard by Rickmen’s early attack and while I doubt this hold will win the match, especially against someone with Looch’s resistance to pain, it’ll wear his opponent down and prevent him from being surprised again.” “Right, strategy,” King agrees as the Insane Luchadore tries and fails to break his opponent’s grip, “are you seeing where the surreal factor comes in yet? We all know Toxxic’s strategy - jump around and drop people on their heads! Effective; yes. Subtle; not really!” Michael Stephens braces his hands against the canvas and starts straightening his body, trying to put as much pressure as possible on the back of Andrew Rickmen’s neck. The Ill One grimaces in pain as he’s slowly bent forward in a sitting position, arms held up unnaturally and uselessly away from his body, but he’s perfectly able to laugh nastily when Brian Warner asks him if he wants to give it up. “I’m aware that Michael Stephens has been trying to develop his wrestling style since his return,” Francis notes, “but then again so is Rickmen. I’m not holding out for a technical classic, but we might get a little more than we would have done a year ago.” Andrew Rickmen has limited mobility, bent forward as he is and with his arms neutralised. However, he didn’t get his wrestling name for nothing and with a resilience to pain that could normally only be achieved with a local anaesthetic he starts leaning backwards, gritting his teeth until his upper body is more or less upright again! From there he is able to start shuffling his legs, trying to shift his body across the canvas towards the ropes. Stephens seems content to let his opponent do it, probably figuring that Rickmen is expending enough energy to make it a worthwhile tradeoff. After a few seconds the Insane Luchadore does reach the sanctuary of the cables and Warner begins his count; Stephens releases his hold after ‘ONE’ and rolls away, coming back to his feet to be ready for any new Rickmen offensive. However, the Insane Luchadore doesn’t come after him straight away… and Michael Stephens extends one black-nailed hand. “Well now, this is interesting,” Mak Francis says as Rickmen looks first at the hand, then up at his opponent’s face, “Stephens shook hands with Sean Davis his former stablemate and David Cross whom he’d never really had much interactions with except a couple of tag matches, but these two have been in some wars!” The Insane Luchadore doesn’t seem all that sure about the whole deal, clearly not trusting his opponent, but Stephens doesn’t move. “It would serve Rickmen right if Toxxic did sucker punch him after how he started the match,” King snorts. Uncertain for one of the first times in the ring, Rickmen looks around at the crowd. As could be expected, some are arguing for and some against, and overall not providing much in the way of guidance for the man from Easton. Finally IL shrugs and, not without a little hesitation, extends his hand to meet Stephens’. Their hands clasp… …they shake… …and they withdraw their hands without coming to blows. “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAA-” -and then they both use their non-shaking left hands to punch each other in the temple at exactly the same time! “-AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd seems equally happy with this outcome; each man staggers back, shaking their heads to try and clear them, and as the camera catches both of them they both start grinning slightly ruefully. Rickmen seems to recover a split second sooner and charges at his opponent, but Stephens takes him over with an armdrag! IL rolls back up to his feet and as Mike comes at him looking to capitalise the American returns the favour, but he holds onto Stephens’ arm and leans on it to try and pin his opponent to the mat. Stephens has other ideas about that however and he reaches back and up with his legs, locking them around Rickmen’s head and dragging the veteran down into a headscissors with the crown of his head pointing down to the mat. If this position is uncomfortable for Rickmen he shows no sign of it; instead the man from Easton seems to view it as a mere inconvenience and begins methodically prying at Stephens’ legs, trying to find some way of loosening his opponent’s grip. When that comes to nothing he performs a headstand, taking Stephens off-guard, before pushing his weight forwards so he comes down on top of the Englishman and finally freeing his head! As an added bonus he drives Stephens’ shoulders into the mat… ONE! TWO!! …but Michael Stephens bridges up, grabs Rickmen around the waist and manages to twist around until his body is over his opponent’s, then twists around again to hook his arms underneath the Insane Luchadore’s and haul the former HGC and ICTV Champion over his head, down into a backslide pin! ONE! TWO!! …but Rickmen manages to roll his weight backwards off his shoulders and comes to his knees, just in time for Stephens to wrap his right arm around the American’s neck and then pivot his hips to take the Ill One back to the mat with a headlock takeover. For a moment Rickmen’s shoulders are on the mat again… ONE! TW- -but the Insane Luchadore isn’t going to be caught off-guard and he rolls his shoulder up. Stephens cinches the headlock in tighter, not willing to give his opponent an inch more breathing room than absolutely necessary. Rickmen wraps his arms around Stephens’ waist and tries to haul the Sensation over onto his shoulders for a pin of his own, but Mike drops his weight as far as he can and sprawls his legs to make the Insane Luchadore’s job as hard as possible. The Ill One does his best, but with Stephens squeezing his head it’s just too much effort and he relaxes his grip. “Everything Michael Stephens has done so far has been targeted at the Insane Luchadore’s head and neck,” Francis notes, “equally good for setting up the Sunny In England or the RTF II that we saw him use to defeat David Cross.” “Or for breaking it,” Suicide King says with far too much hope. Rickmen tried the cunning way out of his predicament; now he goes for the brute force effort and begins hammering blows into the back of Stephens’ head! He can’t see exactly where he’s aiming which makes the whole thing a little inexact, but then the Insane Luchadore was never a proponent of technical crispness anyway. The force of the blows raining down on the back of his neck cause Stephens to lean forwards and the Insane Luchadore takes this chance to start shifting his position. He manages to get his legs partially under him and begins to push upwards, trying to get back to a vertical base. Stephens realises what's going on and tries to fix his error by leaning back onto the headlock as much as he can but Rickmen is not to be denied, and after a few seconds' struggle he's back on his feet! Stephens still has control of his head however, so Rickmen fires one, two, three forearms into his opponent's ribs and then tries to push Stephens off him into the ropes... but the Englishman kills his momentum, tightens up on the headlock and then pivots his hips to take the Insane Luchadore back over onto the mat. *BANG!* "Mak, has Charlie Matthews shaved his chest and lost about 100lbs?" King asks. "My thinking is that Michael Stephens doesn't want to expend any more effort than necessary to win this match, given the gruelling Last Man Standing match he knows he has on Sunday," the Franchise replies. Insane Luchadore tries for a headscissors this time, forcing Stephens to raises his left arm to block it; this allows Rickmen a little more breathing room, and the man from Easton capitalises by managing to rolls Stephens over and onto his shoulders for a pin! ONE! TWO!! ...but Mike rolls back all the way, losing the headlock but removing his shoulders from the canvas. He comes to his feet quicker than Rickmen, whose head is spinning after so long in the headlock, and the Englishman pounces on his opponent to apply a front facelock. "Oh, Jesus..." King mutters, forseeing another long period of wear-down holds, but Stephens proves the Gambling Man wrong by taking hold of Rickmen's arm and spinning, bringing his opponent down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker. The Insane Luchadore grunts in pain on landing but Stephens isn't done, rolling to bring himself back to his feet and hauling Rickmen with him. This time the Sensation twists around until he's back-to-back with his opponent before sitting out with a hangman's neckbreaker, then clambering on top of Rickmen to make the pin immediately after impact. Brian Warner drops to count... ONE! TWO!! ...but the Ill One fires a shoulder off the canvas before Warner can even think about getting to three! Stephens rolls his eyes and starts getting up, pulling Rickmen with him once more, then applies a double underhook. "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" However, despite the Korean crowd's excitement at the prospect of seeing the RTF II that defeated David Cross the Insane Luchadore has other ideas, and he forces his way upwards to send Stephens flying over his head with a back bodydrop! This time it is Rickmen who is quicker off the mark, and as Stephens starts to get back up the Psychotic Hero grabs him in a vague approximation of a Muay Thai clinch and starts firing alternate knees up into his opponent's face! *BANG!* "UNNNGGGHHH!" the crowd bellows in response. *BANG!* "UNNNGGGHHH!" *BANG!* "UNNNGGGHHH!" *BANG!* "UNNNGGGHHH!" Rickmen pauses for a moment, readies himself, then jumps up and rams both knees into Stephens' face! *BANG!* "UUUNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHH!!" Stephens topples backwards to the mat and Rickmen dives on top of him, hooking the leg as he does so... ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Stephens kicks out! The Insane Luchadore queries the count of Brian Warner but still follows up fairly quickly, grabbing Stephens non-too-gently by the hair and hauling him up to his feet. Warner warns Rickmen about these dubious tactics but the Ill One ignores him, instead applying a front facelock and throwing Stephens' arm over his shoulder before grabbing the waist of the Englishman's pants and lifting him into the air... ...holding him vertical... ...and spiking him down with a brainbuster! *CRUNCH!* "Ooh," Mak winces in sympathy, "I think Michael Stephens might be a couple of inches shorter now!" The Insane Luchadore doesn't go for the pin though; instead the longest-serving competitor on the active roster gets right back to his feet and heads for the nearest corner where he starts climbing. It only takes a second for him to reach the top buckle, at which point he spreads his arms wide... "LOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!" "LOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!" Rickmen grins -slightly wildly, but it's still recognisable as a grin- at the show of support from the Korean fans, then backflips off the top buckle with a moonsault! *WHAM!* The Psychotic Hero lands squarely on top of his target and Brian Warner drops to make the count as the slightly-winded Luchadore hooks the leg... ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Michael Stephens kicks out again! This time Rickmen looks more impatiently at Brian Warner, clearly eager for his first ever win over the Brit, but with the referee maintaining that it was only two the Insane Luchador grabs Stephens by the head again and hauls him up to his knees. He fires one right hand down, then another, then turns and runs for the ropes, rebounding for a basement dropkick... ...that never comes to pass, as Stephens staggers to his feet, then launches himself feetfirst at Rickmen's legs, connecting with a soccer tackle that sees him scythe the Insane Luchadore's legs from under him and send the American tumbling head over heels to the mat! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "FOUL!" King bawls, "he didn't play the ball!" "There is no ball!" Francis says in exasperation. "And your point is?" Rickmen and Stephens both stagger up to their feet, the Englishman clearly scrambled in the head while the Insane Luchadore still has a sore neck from earlier and is now limping noticeably. However, it's the American who swings first, launching a right hand... ...that Stephens blocks, catching it on his left arm. Rickmen tries a left hand and Stephens blocks that one too! The Insane Luchadore swings again with his right, but Stephens ducks under this and then as Rickmen's momentum carries him around the Sensation hooks his right arm under his opponent's for a half-nelson, grabs the waist of Rickmen's cargos with his left hand and hoists the Psychotic Hero off his feet before sitting out to drive the Ill One's into the mat with a facebuster variation! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Korean crowd are just as happy to see Michael Stephens doing well as they are to cheer his opponent, but Stephens doesn't give any sign that he's heard them as he rolls Rickmen over onto his back to make the cover... ONE! TWO!! ...but the hardy Pennsylvanian kicks out again! Stephens growls in annoyance and grabs Rickmen before hauling him to his feet, grabbing his opponent's head in both hands and delivering a headbutt... *CRUNCH!* ...that doesn't have quite the desired effect, as both men turn away from each other, each one clutching their own skull! "We all know how hard the Insane Luchadore's head is," Mak quips, "but it looks like Michael Stephens just found out the hard way!" Rickmen doesn't seem all that happy at being headbutted, so as he turns around he makes another attempt to punch Stephens in the face. However, as before Stephens blocks the right hand... blocks the left hand... but this time the Insane Luchadore doesn't go for another orthodix right hand, instead pivoting round to deliver a fizzing spinning backfist... ...that Michael Stephens ducks! And while he's down there, he headbutts Rickmen in the gut! 'OOF!' With the Insane Luchador doubled over in front of him Michael Stephens grabs a front facelock and holds his right arm out to the side, then brings it whipping across and down to comlete the turning elbow drive bulldog and mash Rickmen's face into the canvas again! *BANG!* "Unfinished Business!" Francis calls, "and this could be curtains for Andrew Rickmen!" Stephens certainly hopes so, as he rolls the Insane Luchadore over onto his back... ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Rickmen kicks out! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!" "LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!" Michael Stephens is very unimpressed with referee Warner's count, but he swallows it with some effort (don't read anything into that you dirty bastards) and leaves Rickmen where he is, instead heading for the nearest turnbuckles. He steps out to the apron and begins to climb, reaching the top rope and raising both arms above his head for a little extra 'whip' on the move... then comes off with the rolling guillotine legdrop known as the Hangover! *WHAM!* ...the rolling guillotine legdrop that misses. "Insane Luchador moved!" Mak barks, "whether playing possum or just through sheer instinct, he dodged the Hangover and could have a chance to capitalise!" "Rickmen dodging a Hangover?" King queries, "there's a first time for everything!" Michael Stephens gets gingerly to his feet, his backside hurting (and don't read anything into that, either) after a painful landing with nothing to show for it. Meanwhile the Insane Luchadore is also up, draws his right fist back... and fires a kick into Stephens' gut instead! Then he grabs a front facelock... *BANG!* "Evenflow DDT!" Francis roars, "this one's over! The Insane Luchadore could be about to score a MAJOR upset-" ONE! "-over the man about to challenge-" TWO!! "-for the World Heavyweight Title!" THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! "You're shitting me!?" King exclaims as Michael Stephens just, just gets his shoulder up, "he kicked out? I mean, I know it's only Rickmen, but Jesus..." Michael Stephens doesn't seem to be in much of a condition to do anything else impressive though, as the Sensation is hauled up by his hair. The Insane Luchadore is fuming, unable to believe that the Evenflow DDT didn't work, the same move that has won him so many vic- well, some victories anyway. Accordingly, Rickmen hooks Stephens as if for a vertical suplex, but then reaches down to hook one leg... "Looks like IL's going for a Fisherman's Buster!" Mak says. ...and the Ill One lifts, but just as he foot leaves the floor Michael Stephens fires left hands into Rickmen's ribs! The blows knock the Psychotic Hero and causes him to drop Stephens back to a standing position (still on one foot, admittedly). IL hasn't given up yet though and he tries again... but Stephens fires the punches in again, and this time when Rickmen is forced to lower him he manages to free himself from the American's clutches, then places his head beneath Rickmen's chin and sits out with a jawbreaker! "YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Insane Luchador staggers back and Stephens rises wearily to his feet, then fires a kick into his oppnent's gut, places Rickmen in a standing headscissors and underhooks both arms. "Stephens Shock Syndrome?" Mak asks. "Demonstar Driver?" King fires back. ...but neither prediction comes true, as Rickmen breaks Stephens' grip and free both his arms, then hooks them behind his opponent's knees and pushes, dumping the Englishman onto his back. From there Rickmen looks behind him and sees some turnbuckles, decides to return the favour from the beginning of the match and hooks one of Mike's legs under each arm before falling backwards to send the former World Champion flying through the air with a slingshot... *whump* ...but Stephens readjusts in mid-air and lands on the second buckle! "What agility, at this stage in the match!" Francis says, impressed despite himself. "What a fluke!" King returns. The Insane Luchadore gets back to his feet and turns around, expecting to see Stephens staggering around holding his head... but instead the Sensation backflips off the second buckle, grabbing Rickmen's head on the way over and driving the back of the Insane Luchadore's skull into the canvas! *WHAM!* "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "SUNNY IN ENGLAND!" Francis bellows as Stephens hooks both of his opponent's legs, one with his right arm and one with his own right leg, then rolls into the cover... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* "Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon booms over the mass of cheers, "here is your winner; MIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL... STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!" "The Insane Luchadore put up a great fight, and we all know he never does anything else," Francis says, "but in the end Michael Stephens was too innovative, turning defence into attack in an instant with the Sunny In England. But he's going to need every shred of innovation he can muster this Sunday, when he faces Landon Maddix for the World Heavyweight Title!" As 'Rookie' rolls out through the evening air Michael Stephens has his arm raised in the air by Brian Warner, but the Englishman breaks it off to offer his hand to the Insane Luchadore. Rickmen, brains still slightly scrambled, probably takes it more out of instinct than anything else but Stephens hauls him to his feet and raises his opponents' arm in the air in a gesture of respect before rolling out of the ring and heading towards the back as we FADE OUT

FADE IN The camera fades in to a tight shot of Ben Hardy in the interview area. "With me at this time,accompanied by Melissa Fasaki, is the Wildchild!" Hardy pauses as the camera pans out to get WC and Melissa in the shot as well. "Wildchild, you haven't seemed like yourself since losing the International Championship a few weeks ago; do you feel like you've lost a step?" "Definitely not," replies Wildchild. "Losing de International Title was a setback; dat's all. I haven' lost a step in de ring." "Well, some people have noticed that you have been much more aggressive in the last couple of weeks," says Hardy. "Are we seeing a change in attitude?" "I don' feel like my attitude has changed at all," replies WC, shaking his head. "It's jus' dat it took me losing de International Title t'realize dat I can't continue to compete at half-speed anymore... Y'know, after I won de International Championship, I had a couple of easy matches, an' I t'ought dat was all de effort dat I would need to hold onto de title... But, JJ Johnson was relentless in de match dat he took de title from me." "So, are you attributing the way you've been wrestling recently to JJ Johnson?" "In a way," replies WC. "JJ Johnson taught me a lesson in humility dat I won' soon forget. I don' intend t'take any of my opponents for granted any time soon. But he also awakened a hunger in me dat I haven't had since I beat Jay Hawke at From de Fire. I've got somet'ing t'prove to de worl', an' I'm gon' t'start at 13th Hour! I'm issuing an open challenge t'anybody SWF Superstar, past, present or future, t'face me in a one-on-one matchup at 13th Hour... An' I plan t' give JJ Johnson a sneak preview of what's in store for him de next time I get my hands on him!" "Well, there you have it," says Hardy. "Wildchild has just issued an open challenge to anybody to face him one-on-one at 13th Hour. Let's get back to the ring!" FADE OUT

We start the show off, where all four men have already made their entrance, only barely catching the end of Wu-Tang Clan’s “Protect Ya Neck” before Funyon does the introductions. “From Sydney Australia….STRYYYKEEEEE!” “Stryke hasn’t been winning lately, but any match is an opportunity for him to break that streak,” Mak says. “And from Jacksonville Florida…”THE PERFECT STORM” SEEEEAAAN DAVIIIISSSSSS” “Davis is the x-factor in this match…6’5, 285 pounds” “From Sendai Japan…”THE DIVINE WIIIINDDDD” AKIRRRAAAAA KAAAIIIBAATSSUUUU” “Kaibatsu’s a former Cruiserweight champion, and he held it for a while…but he did lose it to…” “From Manhatten New York….THE SPIRIT OF AGRESSION…GRENDEEELLLLLL” “This man.” Akira and Stryke start the match. They begin circling each other. Stryke then turns to Sean Davis, and throws a knife edge chop through the ropes at his chest. Stryke smiles with delight at his creative tag, as he steps through the ropes, and Sean Davis enters. “Well, I guess that technically counts,” Mak says. “Oh, it counts.” Akira and Davis approach each other, and grapple in a collar and elbow tie up. The push into each other with power, and fall over onto the mat, and roll over in the tie up. Davis let’s go, and slides his legs up, choking Akira with them. Kaibatsu kips up to get out of it, and Davis gets up too, and locks Akira in a side headlock. He throws Kaibatsu with a headlock takedown. Akira uses his legs to grab Davis’ head just like Sean did to Akira, and similarly Davis kips up. Akira then grabs Davis with a side headlock, and throws a headlock takedown. Davis rolls with it, and hooks Akira with a flash pin, for a one count. Davis tries it again, but Akira rolls all the way out of it, and gets up. He runs at Davis, and Davis catches him with an arm drag. Akira gets up right away, and Davis runs at him. Kaibatsu then catches Davis with an arm drag. Both men get up, and Kaibatsu runs at Davis. The Divine Wind jumps up, and delivers a head scissors, which sends Davis into the turnbuckle. Akira runs at Davis again, and attempts a monkey flip, but Davis shoves Akira away. Sean then runs at Akira, and extends an arm for a lariat, but Akira catches it and hits Davis with another arm drag. Davis gets up, and runs at Akira, and hits Akira with an arm drag! The two back off to catch their breath. “The audience likes it!” Mak says. “And why wouldn’t they?” “Because we’re in South Korea, and really? Who wrestles in Korea?” “We’re not just wrestling in Korea…we’re wrestling in SEOUL~! SEOUL SURVIVOR~! Get it, Mak? Like Sole, but it’s really Seoul.” Sean Davis then turns to Stryke, and nails him with a knife edged chop, making a tag. Stryke raises his eyebrows at Davis, and walks into the ring. “Returning the favor, eh?” Akira and Stryke circle each other, making a complete 360 around the ring, and right before they’re about to finally tie up, Grendel reaches as far as he can, and swipes Akira’s back, tagging himself in. Grendel comes up to Stryke, and nails him with a forearm. He then whips Stryke into the ropes. The Australian bounces back, and Grendel tries to leap frog over his head, but Stryke stops short. Stryke then nails Grendel in the face with a forearm, which he wasn’t prepared for. Grendel reacts in angry fashion, and locks Stryke in a side headlock. Stryke backs up into the ropes, and shoves Grendel off. Grendel bounces back, and tries to knock Stryke down with a shoulder block, but Stryke wont budge. Grendel runs at the ropes once again, and Stryke tries to hit him with a lariat, but Grendel ducks under it. Grendel then runs towards Stryke again and successfully hits that shoulder block. Grendel then gets down towards Stryke, and hooks a small package, for a two count. Both men get up, and Grendel puts Stryke in a side headlock. Stryke then flips Grendel backwards, and nails him with a backdrop driver!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH “Backdrop Driver!” Mak screams. Stryke opts not to go for a cover though. Instead he walks over to the turnbuckle, and ascends to the top. He leaps off, extending his limbs in, and then out, going for All Time High! “This used to be his finisher...HE MISSED IT!” King shouts. King’s call is correct. Grendel, barely but definitely, rolled out of the way before Stryke could reach him with All Time High. Grendel then uses what little energy he has left from that Backdrop Driver, and runs at the ropes. He bounces off one...then the other...continues to bounce until Stryke has reached his feet. Once he does, Grendel nails him with a lariat! Grendel picks him up, and Irish Whips him into the ropes, but Stryke stops himself from bouncing back. He then walks over to Sean Davis, and makes a tag. “Stryke seems a little but frustrated” Mak says, as Sean Davis walks in. Grendel puts Davis in another side headlock. Davis backs up in the headlock, towards the corner. Akira makes a blind tag on Grendel, but Grendel nor Davis realizes it, and Davis shoves Grendel off the headlock. Akira enters, and throws a knife edged chop at Davis’ back, as Grendel hits the ropes. Davis turns around, and is hit with one of Akira’s signature European Uppercuts! Davis is knocked back a bit, but comes firing back at Akira with a forearm. Davis then whips Akira into the ropes. Akira comes running back, and nails Davis in the chest with a dropkick! Davis is sent out of the ring with the force from that dropkick. “This match is fast paced fun!” Mak shouts. King sighs, and ignores Mak’s last statement. Akira turns to the fans in Seoul, and screams, as he runs towards Davis on the outside of the ring. Akira dives through the ropes, and then flips, nailing Davis with a flipping Tope Con Hilo!!! YEAHHHHHHHHHHH “Tope Con Hiloooooooooo~!” King shouts! Akira then throws Davis into the ring, and Sean slowly starts to get up, as Akira gets in the ring and climbs the nearest turnbuckle. Davis finally reaches his feet, and Akira dives sideways for a cross body, but Sean catches him, and nails him with a powerslam!! Davis then picks up Sean, and hooks his shoulder’s into Akira’s abdomen. He flips Akira backwards, for a bridged Northern Lights Suplex!!!! ONEEEE! TWOOOOOO!!!! THRRENOOOOOOO! Davis gets up, and whips Akira into the turnbuckle, so that he can catch his breath. Grendel is going to give Davis more time to do it than he would like, though, as he tags himself in. Grendel then runs towards Akira, and nails him with a knife edged chop. Akira fights back, nailing Grendel with a European Uppercut, and then switches their positions, and nails Grendel in the chest with a knife edged chop. Akira then whips Grendel into the ropes, and follows him, nailing him with a lariat. Akira then lifts up Grendel onto the turnbuckle, but before Akira can get up too, Grendel nails him in the head, and locks in a front facelock. He then shifts to the side ropes with the front facelock, and Davis makes a blind tag on Grendel’s back. Grendel spins off of the ropes with Akira in hand, and hits a tornado suplex! He holds on to Akira’s head afterwards, with the front facelock. Davis then runs in, and nails Grendel in the face with a Yakuza kick! “This is too confusing! I can’t keep track of all these blind tags!” King complains. Davis picks up Akira by the mask, and locks in a cravate. He then flips Akira forward for a snapmare, and nails a kick to Akira’s back. Akira gets up, despite the pain in his back, and nails Davis with a European Uppercut. He then hits Davis with a snapmare of his own, and a kick to the back. “These guys have too much pride to let the other guy know they’ve hurt each other,” Mak says. Davis then gets up, and hits Akira with a snapmare. He holds Akira’s head with the palm of his huge hand, and starts kicking away at Akira’s back non-stop. He finally stops, and then screams at the crowd, with the roar of their approval. While he does that, Kaibatsu gets up. Davis turns around, and is met with a Kaibatsu European Uppercut once again, before a snapmare. Kaibatsu know holds Davis’ head, and kicks away at his back. Stryke, who is know for some reason on the outside, pulls Akira by the feet to the outside. He then slams Akira’s back into the guard rail. Stryke then gets into the ring, and prepares to wrestle Sean Davis from here. “uhh…Stryke know’s he’s not the legal man, right?” King asks. Legal man or not the legal man, Davis is indifferent to the situation. He runs at Stryke, going for a lariat. Stryke is prepared for it though, and ducks under it, flipping Davis over the ropes and to the outside with Akira. Stryke’s got an idea now, though. He runs at the ropes, and bounces back off. He runs with all his speed at Akira and Davis, and he flies through the middle ropes. He hits Davis and Akira with both of his elbows..,and accidentally ends up in the crowd!! “I think Stryke is dead.” … RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! “TOPE CON HILOOOOOOOOOOOO” Mak shouts. Grendel then enters the ring, and steps out towards the apron where everyone else is. Stryke tries to step over the guard rail, as Davis and Akira slowly get up. Grendel jumps up into the air, and bounces his ass off the top rope. He uses that momentum to carry over into a moonsault, toppling all three competitors!!! “ARABIAN MOONSAULT!!” YEAAHHHHHHHHHHHH “Match of the Night so far, easily!” King shouts. “King, this opened up the show.” “And no one is eliminated yet! What a match!” Stryke and Davis climb into the ring, and begin to trade forearms, as Akira slams Grendel’s head into the ringpost on the outside. Akira climbs into the ring to see Davis and Strike and their forearm battle. Akira taps Stryke on the shoulder. He turns around, and is immediately met with a European Uppercut! Davis then puts him in a rear waist lock, and flips him back with a German Suplex! He then turns around to face Akira, but Akira comes running at him with a lariat! Davis ducks the lariat though, and puts Akira in a rear waist lock! He tries for a German Suplex, but Akira backflips out of it! Akira then delivers a knife edged chop to the back of Davis. Stryke then gets up, and nails Davis in the chest with a knife edged chop! Akira then runs up behind Davis, and locks in a half nelson. He uses all his strength to lift Davis backwards with a half nelson suplex! RAHHHHHHHHHHH! “HALF NELSON SUPLEXXXXXX OH MY GOD!” Mak shouts, as Akira walks over to Davis to make a cover. Before he gets the chance though, Stryke comes up to him from behind, and puts Akira in a sleeper. He then drops down to his stomach, nailing a sleeper drop! Stryke and Akira slowly get up, as Davis crawls into the corner, sitting down and taking a breather. Akira and Stryke are still going full speed though. Kaibatsu runs right into Davis, flipping forward nailing him with his back! Davis can’t take much more, and just as he’s about to fall over Stryke runs at him, with a running facewash! “Referee Byron Dragonson has lost all control of this match!” Akira runs at the ropes, as Stryke gets up from the facewash. Akira extends a boot up, and nails Stryke with a Yakuza Kick! Grendel finally re-enters the ring, and grabs Akira with a front facelock. He hooks his arm over his head, and hooks a leg, going for a Fisherman’s suplex! Davis finally gets up though. He runs over towards Grendel, and puts him in a rear waistlock. Then, in a sudden feat of strength like few can do, Davis flips both men backwards, for German Suplex and a Fisherman’s Buster! YEEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “GERMAN SUPLEX ON GRENDEL!” “FISHERMAN’S BUSTER ON AKIRA!” Davis looks over at Stryke, who is now running right at him with a jumping high knee! Davis falls, and so does Stryke! Everyone is down! “ESS-DUB-EFF! ESS-DUB-EFF!” “To think, King, that we still have AN ENTIRE SHOW LEFT” ONEEE! TWOOO! THREEE! FOOUUR! Grendel begins to get up, and so does Sean Davis. Davis runs up to Grendel, and hits a huge Exploder suplex! ONEEE! TWOOOOO! THRENOOOOOOOOOO! Davis gets up, and is met right away with a huge lariat from Akira Kaibatsu! He then turns to Stryke, who is now up, and Stryke is quicker to the punch. He whips Akira into the turnbuckle. Akira falls, and is now sitting in the turnbuckle. Stryke runs at him, going for another face wash, but Akira moves out of the way, and Stryke’s foot is hung up on the rope. Akira gets up, and moves over towards Grendel. Grendel ducks beneath an Akira Kaibatsu lariat, and puts him on his back. “Grendel’s going for one of his finishing moves, here!” Grendel drops Akira on his head for Vengeance, his Death Valley Driver! “YEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHH” “VENGEANCE!! Grendel’s going to have an elimination here!” Grendel Is about to go for a cover, that would certainly get a three count, but Stryke doesn’t give him a chance. He grabs him by the side, and flips him backwards, dropping him on his head with a backdrop driver! YEEEEAAAAHHHH! “Backdrop driver!!” Mak shouts. Stryke is about to go for a cover, but cannot, because Sean Davis comes up from behind, and locks in a full nelson! He has the Avalanche locked in! Stryke can’t stay in for long..he has to tap. Instinctively, he lunges his feet towards the ropes. Davis has to let go…but he does so in interesting fashion. He lets go of one hand, and hrabs Stryke by the neck. He lifts him up, and throws him down with a chokeslam! YEEEEAAHHH CHOKESLAAAAAAMMMMM!!! Davis, like the others, can’t go for a cover right away though, because Akira Kaibatsu has recovered, and comes running up to him. He whips Davis into the turnbuckle, and runs at him with a lariat. He then turns to Grendel, and whips him into a turnbuckle. He then lifts Grendel up onto the top. Akira climbs up, and hooks Grendel’s arm over for a Superplex…but then Sean Davis runs up to the turnbuckle. He climbs up, and hooks Akira in a rear waist lock. He flips him backwards with an Avalanche German Suplex! YEEAAHHH! Akira rolls out of the ring with the momentum of that move. Davis isn’t done yet though. He once again walks up to that turnbuckle where Grendel is. He stuffs Grendel’s face into the turnbuckle, and butterflies his arms. He then flips him backwards, off the turnbuckle, planting him on his back for an Avalanche Tiger Driver!! YEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “TIGER DRIVER! SEAN MAKES A COVER!!” ONEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! “and Grendel is eliminated!” “He fought hard, but in the end, not hard enough” Stryke gets up, and runs over to Davis, and puts him into a front facelock. He then drops Davis down to the mat with a DDT! Stryke then goes up to the turnbuckle. He leaps off, and extends his legs out, and drops them on the head of Sean Davis! “Leg drop!” Akira slides into the ring before Stryke can make a cover though. He stuffs Stryke’s head’s between his legs, and butterflies his arms. Kaibatsu then lifts him up, and spins him to the side, dropping him on his face with It Came From Sendai! Akira then covers Stryke, hooking a leg. ONEEEEEE! TWWOOOOOOOOOO! THREEENOOOOOOO!! “Stryke kicks out!” Akira then turns to Sean Davis, but The Perfect Storm is already at his feet. Davis spins Akira around, and hooks him in a full Nelson. Davis lifts Akira up, and drops him right back down to his feet! “Full Nelson Atomic Drop! Davis pulls that out almost every match!” King sighs. “And it never gets the pin. Who cares?” ONEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOO! THRENOOOOO! “Told you” King laughs. “You may be laughing King…but I don’t think Davis is…or Stryke for that matter” Stryke gets up, and heads over to Sean Davis. He puts Davis in a rear waist lock, leaning his head out sideways. He uses all his strength to lift Davis backwards, and drop him on his head! “BACKDROP DRIVER! THIRD TIME THIS EVENING!” “Now thisgets covers.” ONEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEE! “That’s it! Sean Davis is eliminated!” Akira walks up to Stryke, before Stryke can actually get up from his cover. Akira puts him in a front facelock, and hooks his arm over his head. He lifts him up vertically, and drops him back down. Akira extends his knee out, and twists Stryke in mid-air, planting his back on his knee. “DIVINE BACKBREAKER!” Akira makes a cover after his spectacular backbreaker. ONEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOO! THRRRNOOO! Stryke kicks out! Akira lifts Stryke back up though. Akira lifts Stryke up, and puts him in a front facelock. He flips his arm over his head, and lifts him up, and keeps him up. “Stalling brainbuster….” “Worst move ever. We were all fast paced, having a good time, and now Akira’s slowing it down. Fuc—“ King can’t get the last word out. At least no one can hear it. He’s drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Strkye slides out of Akira’s Brainbuster, and is now lined up behind him. He puts Akira in a rear waistlock, with his head sticking out the side, going for another Backdrop Driver. “Going for a 5th one this match?!” Francis shouts. “Looks like it…” King says. He flips Akira backwards, attempting to drop him on his head alright…but Akira over flips. He lands on his feet. Instinctively, Akira grabs Stryke’s face in a cravate. He runs to the turnbuckle, flipping backwards on the top rope, dropping Stryke’s head to the mat! “DIVVIIINEEE WIIINDDDD OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD!” ONNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEE! “HERE IS YOUR WINNER, AND THE SEOUL SURVIVOR…..THE DIVINE WIND….AKIRAAAA KAIIIIBATSSUUUUUU!”

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN! Live, Monday, June 5th, from the front lawn of the Seoul Namdaemun Gate in Seoul, South Korea! (6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) The SWF heads south of the border... but not THAT border! Smarkdown comes to you live from Seoul, South Korea, marking the last stop before Nippon Budokan! Tonight's show comes from the front lawn of the Namdaemun Gate! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MAIN EVENT JJ Johnson vs. Zyon © -> Why was Zyon beating the top dog one minute, then fighting on a tank the next? Because we needed someone for House Rules, that's why. It should not have been taken as a sign that his win would go unnoticed - oh no. We noticed, alright. He'll be moving on up, but not to the East Side - he'll be moving on up the rankings, and the card! Zyon main events tonight, against a man he shares some history with... whoever wins will be getting a HUGE momentum boost heading into the PPV... whoever loses... ... well, they just lose. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 7500 (don't look at me, it was requested... stupid JJ) Send To: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH The New Doomtopians (Jimmy the Doom © and Doomstroyer ©) vs. The Dead Precedents (Bruce Blank and Bloodshed) -> I had hoped this would be a PPV match, but sadly, the life of a booker is not all sunshine and daisies. Conflicts of interest arise, and the Tag Title Match that we thought would grace the halls of Nippon Budokan will now grace the lawn of the Seoul Namdaemun Gate. The downside? Word limits. The upside? FREE TV, BITCHES~! In any event, the Doomtopians lifted the titles off the terribly impressive team of JJ Johnson and "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins - will their luck hold out against The Dead Precedents? Rules: Standard tag team match. Word Limit: 6000 Send To: janusd -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Michael Stephens vs. Insane Luchadore -> I have no clue how Stephens did on Lockdown yet... but let's assume that Insane Luchadore came out and blasted him with a steel chair, prompting this match! Or maybe the other way around... Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING BOUT - The Seoul Survivor Match - Fatal Fourway Elimination Grendel vs. Sean Davis vs. Stryke vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu -> It has been brought to my attention that The Patron Wrestler of Athens, Zyon, has yet to defend this honourable title since he won it! THAT AIN'T TOO COOL, MAN. Tonight, we will determine his challenger - four worthy contenders rumble for the right to be called The Seoul Survivor, and at a future date that has yet to be determined, The Seoul Survivor and the Patron Wrestler will battle one-on-one to determine who is truly deserving of their titles! Rules: Two men in the ring, two outside. Tags can be made to anyone at any time. ELIMINATION RULES! Last man remaining wins, and shall be known forever (or until next year's World Tour) as THE SEOUL SURVIVOR! Word Limit: 6000 Send To: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING PROMO: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Tiny card, but I still don't know how half of the last show turned out, and we're heading into a PPV, so I'm hoping those unbooked will get their promo on. Hoping. Praying. Begging, even.

So we've got a list up on the super secret boards, that says stuff like "So and so - don't book on Storm", and "So and so - two show rotation", etc. Problem is, it's a little... how should I say this... ... old. So, if you don't want to be booked on Storms, or if you want every third show off, or if you don't want to write for any shows that land on Friday the 13th, or if you only want to be booked during a full moon, this is the place to tell us, and I'll update the list. Gimme! And hell, while we're at it, Storm requests here as well. Let's see if I can get the card up before midnight for a change. Wait, the 24 Season Finale is tomorrow night. Let's shoot for 2 AM, then.

1. Either post or PM your PPV plans to CC. Even if we already know them, do it again, to be absolutely positively 100% certain we get it right. 2. THEME SONG NOMINATIONS~! "Final Countdown" seems like a shoe in for a PPV named 13th Hour, but still, let's see what you've got. Smarkdown card is being constructed as we speak. Should be up relatively soon.

5000. Just to spite you.

Manson/Maddix and Stephens/Cross are edited in.

Clearly you mis-read that, Bruce. Bloodshed has never been double-booked. It would be wise of you not to question us again... dissenters are not tolerated here. Just keep that in mind next time you question The Overwatch- ... I mean, CC...

Lockdown returns from the final commercial break of the evening and a three year old camera toddler pans around Tiennamen Square, displaying signs decorated with the scribbly moon drawings of the Far East, as well as one that proclaims Spike & Johnson = Team Cock! "Welcome back to Lockdown, and it's time for the main event of the evening," Mak begins. "Thank God. I'm ready to get me a Chinese hooker," King breaks in. "Don't forget to tip her," Mak reminds the Gambling Man. "Anyway, as I was saying, it's the main event, and the tag team titles are on the line, as JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins defend against The New Doomtopians." "Advantage easily to the champs. It doesn't matter that they haven't wrestled together because both are great singles wrestlers with pretty decent tag experience. Not to mention that The New Doomtopians haven't wrestled for a few weeks," King points out. "Very true, King, but The New Doomtopians are familiar with each other in the ring. That might be enough to give them the uppherhand," Francis replies. "But they are big dorks with no titles between the two of them. Johnson and Jenkins have had a boatload of gold," King states. A phalanx of babies clamber up the light poles to hold orange filters in front of the bulbs as Incredibad's "Just 2 Guyz" blares over the speakers. The three Doomtopians walk out from...somewhere, and head towards the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation tag team championship! Introducing first, the challengers! Hailing from Doomopolis, Doomtopia and weighing in at five hundred, fifteen pounds and accompanied by Lois the Unethical, Jimmy the Doom and the Doomtopian Destroyer, they are The New Doomtopians!" Funyon shouts. Jimmy and the Destroyer slide inside while Lois heads to the other side of the ring. "Just 2 Guyz" is cut-off moments before it is revealed that Steve is a cunt, and the Smarktron whites out. The lights blast to full power and the sound of a needle scratching over vinyl can barely be heard over the booing crowd that knows what's coming. BAM! Norma Jean's "Creating Something Out of Nothing Only to Destroy It" roars through the crowd and bright lights flash at the mysterious area of entering. Spike walks out, hardcore belt hanging off his right shoulder, tag title on his left. Jenkins drops to one knee and crosses his arms in an X. 'Hollywood' rises back up and heads to the ring. "And now, the champions! First, from Hollywood, California, he weighs two hundred, twenty pounds, and along with being one-half of the Tag Team champions, is the Hardcore Gamers champion, 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins!" Funyon shouts. Jenkins waits outside the ring, not favoring his chances against the Doomstroyer and the Straight-Bread Sensation. Spike flips his hood back and crosses his arms once more. I do that rather well...don't you think? The cacophony of angry music known as Cryptopsy's "Crown of Horns" erupts from the speakers as red and white lights flash and smoke billows from the entranceway. JJ Johnson walks out, tag belt held aloft. "And his partner, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he weighs two hundred, thirty-three pounds, JJ Johnson!" Funyon yells. Johnson marches to the ring and slides in with Spike. JJ leaps to the middle turnbuckle and does his best Jim Caveziel impression. Johnson drops down and hands his belt to referee Nick Soapdish. Spike hands off his tag belt but slides the Hardcore title in his team's corner. Nick raises the belts up then hands them to Funyon for safekeeping. 'Hollywood' shrugs off his hoodie and Johnson slips out of his track jacket. JJ pokes Spike in the chest and points over his shoulder to the corner, letting Jenkins know he'll start things off. The Doomstroyer doesn't bother to converse with Jimmy and exits the ring. "Looks like we'll have to two martial artists start things off, and we just might see someone get knocked the fuck out," Mak states. "Not with those two. They could swing on each other for days, which, actually, doesn't sound so bad," King replies. Soapdish briefly checks both men for illegal objects (Illegal in a wrestling match, not illegal in China, because that list encompasses a shitload more than brass knuckles), comes up empty, and calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! JJ wants to circle and find the best point of attack, but Doom basically says, "Fuck that shit, motherfucker" but it's Jimmy the Doom, so it's more like, "With a mother to being of fucks and to shit in having fucked" and charges in. Johnson obliges Jimmy's foolhardiness with a snap elbow. However, unbeknownst to Johnson, elbows are a common food item in Doomtopia, and the Straight-Bread Sensation eats it up. Jimmy rears back and crashes down with a headbutt to what was baby JJ's fontanelle. BISHOPRIC! Doom follows up with a lanky knee to the stomach, doubling the Canadian over. Doom locks on a front facelock, but either he didn't lock the facelock on tight enough or Johnson is a master of unlocking and JJ slips behind Jimmy, hammerlock cinched in. The Doomtopian tries for a back elbow, but that's exactly what Johnson was hoping would happen. JJ lets go of the hammerlock and grabs Doom's elbow. Johnson yanks Jimmy down to the mat, spins out to scissor Doom's other arm, and in a matter of seconds, has the Frostbite III locked on. Soapdish drops to his belly to ask if the Straight-Breader wishes to give up while Johnson cranks back on the hold. However, cranking back like that leaves him susceptible to getting punted in the face by the Doomstroyer, which is exactly what happens. NOVITIATE! "Wow! Johnson almost had this match won in the opening minute! I can't believe how quickly he slapped on the Frostbite III," Francis says, in complete awe. "I told you, the champs are going to retain. Of course, I didn't imagine it would be this quickly," King adds. "Well, they haven't won yet, and anything can happen in the SWF," Mak points out. Johnson gets to his feet and heads for the Doomtopian Destroyer, but Soapdish quickly intervenes, forcing the Doomstroyer back to his corner. Jimmy the Doom stands up as well and cracks JJ in the back with a knee. Johnson whirls around and nails Doom with a spinning back fist, but Doom counters with a palm strike. Johnson takes the blow in stride and smacks Doom in the ribs with a back kick. JJ tries to close in on the Doomtopian, but Jimmy fires off a hand straight for Johnson's throat. The Canadian barely manages to knock Jimmy's arm away, wrap him up, and plant Doom with a spinebuster. JJ slides on top of Doom and smashes Jimmy with an elbow to the face. Johnson spikes another elbow into Doom's facial region, then just flips out and begins battering the Straight-Bread Sensation with punches. FLAGELLUM! SPUMONI! PESTIFEROUS! "I think that attempted Hand of Doom really sparked something inside Johnson, because he looks like he just wants to murder Jimmy the Doom," Mak says. "Can you blame him? It took him who knows how long to recover after his first throat injury, and I seriously doubt he wants another one any time soon. Or ever again," King points out." Soapdish yells at Johnson to cease his use of closed fists, and JJ obliges, instead smashing elbows into Jimmy's head. However, Doom isn't one to sit idly by and get his skull caved in, so the Straight-Breader peppers Johnson with short punches to the stomach. This does precisely jack-squat, so Jimmy wraps up Johnson's left arm with his right and does the same with JJ's right. Doom pulls Johnson in and smashes him with a headbutt. The Straight-Bread Sensation hits Johnson with another headbutt and then shoves JJ away. Jimmy scrambles up and tags in the Doomtopian Destroyer. JJ climbs to his feet and just barely ducks a fist the size of his head. Johnson lashes out with a kick to the Doomstroyer's left knee. JJ lands another leg kick then buries a foot in the Doomtopian Destroyer's gut. The Canadian drives two swift knees in the Destroyer's stomach, slaps on a front facelock, and takes the Doomstroyer over with a snap suplex. "JJ Johnson is really dominating this match so far. He's stronger than Jimmy the Doom, and is a lot quicker than the Doomtopian Destroyer. If he and Spike Jenkins can keep Jimmy the Doom out of the ring, they have a good shot of retaining the tag titles," Mak states. "I'm not so sure I agree with your strategy, Mak. Doom is a lot tougher than the Doomstroyer, so it might make more sense to isolate Jimmy, because if he's kept out of the ring, he'll be around to break up any pin attempts," King points out. Johnson gets to his feet, pulls the Doomtopian Destroyer into a seated position, and kicks him in the spine. JJ cracks the Doomstroyer with another cowboy kick. The Canuck reaches down and grabs hold of the Doomtopian's left arm. JJ tries to cinch in the Buffalo sleeper, but he gets smacked with a back fist. Johnson lets go of the Destroyer, who begins crawling towards his corner. JJ quickly recovers from the blow, sprints in front of the Doomstroyer, and kicks him in the face. SILICOSIS! The masked man falls on his side, and Johnson grabs his right arm. JJ remains standing while fully extending the Doomtopian's limb into an armbar. Nick Soapdish drops down to see if the Doomtopian Destroyer will submit, but doesn't get a response as Jimmy the Doom is already in the ring and flying towards Johnson. HONORIFIC! "That's one way to save your partner from a submission hold, just kick the other guy in the chest as hard as you can," Francis says. "Or, they could have just admitted defeat to the obviously superior team and I could be screwing some Beijing whore and drinking panda milk right now," King mutters. Spike deftly slips into the ring, darts toward the Straight-Bread Sensation, and laces a foot into his jaw. NASTURTIUM! Staggered from the superkick, Doom crashes into the ropes and is forced out of the ring by Nick Soapdish. Johnson and the Doomstroyer both reach their feet, and JJ shows off his speed by landing two kicks to the Doomtopian's head in rapid succession. Johnson applies an armwringer and transitions it into a snug front facelock. JJ walks the Doomstroyer to the champions' corner and tags in 'Hollywood'. Jenkins springs to the top turnbuckle and jumps. Spike plants both feet on the Doomstroyer's back, assisting Johnson with a DDT. "Nice teamwork from the champs with that double stomp and DDT combo. I wonder if Spike will want to turn up the pace against the Doomtopian Destroyer or go with his normal grinding, chain wrestling tempo," Mak states. "Either will probably be effective, but I'd think keeping the Doomstroyer on the mat would be a much better idea than running around like a coked-out monkey," King replies. JJ rolls out of the ring and Jenkins slaps on a side headlock. This is a mistake against a man that outweighs Jenkins by over sixty pounds. The Doomstroyer easily rises to his feet and takes 'Hollywood' off the mat. Spike hangs on with one hand and slams a palm into the Doomtopian's throat with the other. The Destroyer's knees buckle, giving Jenkins a shorter drop. Back on two feet, 'Hollywood' is quick to leave them with a dropkick to the big man's right knee. Jenkins kips up, races for the ropes, and knocks the Doomtopian Destroyer to the mat with a soccer tackle. Spike forces the Doomstroyer to his knees and locks on a cravat. "Well, it looks like Spike Jenkins is looking to grind things out and slowly wear down the Doomtopian Destroyer. Then again, he uses a cravat in nearly every match, so there's no telling what direction he'll take," Francis says. "I like the idea, but I think that the Doomstroyer is a bit too fresh to use a cravat. Now, if it were against Jimmy the Doom, it'd be great, because Doom isn't that much bigger or stronger than Jenkins," King points out. The Doomtopian remains on his knees while Jenkins cranks down on his head. The Destroyer tries to shove Spike off, but 'Hollywood' has the cravat on too tight for such simple measures, no matter how strong his opponent is. A kidney punch, though, is a different matter altogether. "That's a surefire way to get someone to piss blood," Francis comments. "For at least a week," King adds. Jenkins keeps the hold cinched in, despite a second blow to his renal area. A third nearly gets the job done, but 'Hollywood' digs a heel into the Doomstroyer's gut, winding the big man, and allowing Spike to get a better grip on the cravat. 'Hollywood' shimmies towards his corner and tags in Johnson, who swoops in and traps the Doomtopian in a front facelock the moment Spike gives up the cravat. JJ lands hammer-fisted blows to the Doomstroyer's back as Jenkins drills a quartet of knees into his face and torso. Nick Soapdish forces Spike out of the ring, but it's only momentary as Johnson tags in 'Hollywood'. Jenkins zips between the middle and top ropes, dropkicking the Destroyer in the ribs. Spike grabs for the cravat as JJ releases his front facelock. The Canadian springs off the middle rope and cracks the Doomtopian in the face with an elbow, presumably on the bridge of the nose, but it's really hard to tell with that mask. INVEIGLE! "The champs are really taking it to the Doomstroyer with quick tags and a focused attack on his head and neck," Francis states. "And it's a damned good plan. There's no way they'd be able to make a dent in Jimmy the Doom's skull. I find it odd that the bigger Doomtopian Destroyer has a much weaker chin and overall constitution," King says. "Well, maybe he's not had to live such a hard life as Jimmy the Doom, and never really needed to get tough. I agree that it'd be nearly impossible to make much of an impact on Doom. He must have a metal head or something," Mak replies. Spike loosens the cravat a bit, only to quickly spin it into a reverse face lock. Jenkins tries to twist the Doomstroyer down, but the masked man grabs Spike's hair and flips him over, wrenching free of his grip. The Destroyer makes his way towards his own corner, but 'Hollywood' is back on his feet. Spike cocks his right arm back and slams it into the Doomtopian's shoulder blades. Were he a much, much smaller man, there is no doubt that the Doomstroyer would have crumpled to Spike's lariat. However, the Destroyer is by no means a small man, and the most it does is knock him forward. The Doomtopian turns around, wraps both hands around Jenkins' throat and chucks him into the challengers' corner. The Straight-Bread Sensation cracks 'Hollywood' with a palmstrike to the temple, then reaches out and tags the Doomstroyer. "We almost saw The Fall of Rome from Spike Jenkins! Jenkins and Johnson have come close to ending the match twice, but to no avail." "Are you stupid? They haven't even gone for a pinfall yet. Sure, JJ had the Frostbite III on for about a second, but Spike only got to the very first part of the set-up to The Fall of Rome," King points out. "I mean, I'm sure they'll win, but not just yet." "I'm simply amazed at how many times you contradict yourself each match, let alone throughout the entire night," Mak replies. Doom enters the ring and keeps 'Hollywood' in the corner with two quick palmstrikes. Jimmy backs out to the middle of the ring and then charges Spike. There's a good chance Jenkins could have avoided the headlock had the Doomstroyer not been gripping the waistband of his pants, but that's neither here nor there. The Straight-Bread Sensation hauls Spike out of the corner and down to the mat. Jimmy bounces off the ropes, leaps, and contorts in mid-air, crashing down on Spike's head. Doom rolls over and makes a lateral press. ONE! TW-No! "Kick out from Jenkins after that corkscrew headbutt. JJ Johnson must have been pretty confident in his new tag partner, because he didn't even leave the ring apron," Mak points out. "Well, it's early and Spike hasn't sustained much punishment, and besides, Johnson could traverse the ring in a split second if he needed to," King notes. The Straight-Breader pulls 'Hollywood' to his feet and rockets him into the ropes. Spike flies back towards Doom and manages to sidestep a snap kick. Jenkins reaches out, throws an arm across Doom's chest and sweeps him to the mat. 'Hollywood' climbs back up, walks away from Jimmy, then rushes back to nail him with a baseball slide dropkick to the head that has the added bonus of boots scraping across Doom's face. HOMILETICS! "Nice STO from Jenkins to slow down Doom, and that dropkick was just brutal," Mak states. "Pile on about forty more and it should be enough to put Jimmy the Doom away," King mutters. 'Hollywood' drags the Straight-Breader to his feet and laces into him with a shotei to the jaw. Doom fires off one of his own, knocking Spike back a half step. Jenkins closes in and snaps Jimmy's head back with an European uppercut. The Hardcore Gamers champ grabs Doom around the head and drops to one knee, cravat cinched in tight. The Doomtopian punches Jenkins in the back a few times, and what with Spike's previous experience involving a New Doomtopian, a cravat, and repeated blows to the back, it's more than enough to get the lumbago going, and Doom is able to slip free. "It looks like Spike's back has taken a bit of a beating already. Jimmy the Doom packs some pop, but those earlier bombs from the Doomtopian Destroyer are really what did it," Francis points out. "Uh duh!" King exclaims disdainfully. "Listen up, King, I only explain things in the simplest manner possible because I want your illegitimate children to know what's going on and have a better understanding of wrestling," Mak snaps back. "Well, that's very thoughtful. I'm sure your girlfriend appreciates it, as all of those kids can be a handful. Speaking of which, this tour is almost over, baby, so I'll be seeing you real soon," King says. Jenkins spins away from Jimmy, not wanting to be caught offguard. However, 'Hollywood' has no such qualms about catching the Straight-Breader offguard, and knocks him flat with a lariat. INTROIT! Spike rushes over and tags Johnson into the match. JJ slips inside the ring to find the Doomtopian standing, so Johnson attempts to rectify this situation with a running shotgun lariat. HEGIRA! Johnson drops on top of Jimmy and hooks both legs, making a lateral press. ONE! TW-No! "Kickout from Jimmy the Doom after two vicious lariats from arguably, two of the three men who best know how to deliver a lariat in the SWF. The other, of course, being Manson," Francis states. "Oh yeah. Manson will fuck you up with one of his lariats, and how!" King exclaims. JJ yanks the Straight-Bread Sensation off the mat and whips him to the ropes. Johnson whirls around and knocks Doom flat with a roaring elbow. CALYX! The Canadian tags 'Hollywood', who springs onto the top turnbuckle and then leaps, landing on Jimmy the Doom's chest. Spike jumps again, this time driving a leg into the Doomtopian's throat. Jenkins reaches out and makes a lateral press. ONE! TWO! TH-No! "And Doom gets a shoulder up! I'm surprised that a rolling elbow, a top rope double stomp, and a legdrop just barely got a two count," Francis mumbles. "Pshaw! The fact that it barely got a two count says a lot! It means that JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins are really taking it to Doom," King replies. 'Hollywood' drags Jimmy off the mat and attempts an Irish whip, only to be reversed. Spike races back towards Doom off the rebound and gets scooped off his feet. Jimmy spins Jenkins around then drills him with an inverted atomic drop. The Hardcore champ stumbles away, but not far enough to escape the Straight-Breader's grasp, and Doom hoists Jenkins with a two handed choke hold. Jimmy turns around and sits out, staying down to make a cover. ONE! Johnson rushes into the ring, completely oblivious to Doom and Nick Soapdish. The Doomstroyer, though, sees it clear as day and climbs in as well. TWO-No! SPELEOLOGY! "Nice kick to the back of the head by Johnson to break up that pinning Jimmy Bomb," Mak comments. "And if he and Spike play their cards right, they just might be able to get in a good bit of double teaming," King points out. The Doomstroyer tries to swing on JJ, but the Canuck takes the advice of the popular local dish and Peking ducks. Soapdish quickly steps between the two men and forces back to their respective corners. "Blast!" King yells. "Maybe next time, King. Maybe next time," Mak says. "Don't you try to console me!" the Heartbreaker roars. "That's for my Chinese prostitute to do later tonight." Jimmy rises to his feet, grabs Spike by the arm, and pulls up the double champion. Doom performs an armwringer, bending 'Hollywood' forward, and drags Jenkins towards The New Doomtopians' corner. The Straight-Bread Sensation tags in his giant partner, who kicks Spike in the face. Jimmy keeps hold of Spike's arm long enough to let the Doomstroyer duck under the limb and wrap Jenkins up in a choke hold. 'Hollywood' flails about as Soapdish inquires as to his willingness to submit. "The champs might be in trouble! The Doomtopian Destroyer has Spike Jenkins trapped in a choke hold, and, with his strength, it's got to be tight," Francis notes. "That's true, but Spike can be squirmy. Besides, JJ Johnson is there to bail him out if needed," King points out. The Doomstroyer squeezes even tighter, forcing Spike's own arm deeper into his throat, prompting Soapdish to see if Jenkins wants to give up. However, seeing as the oxygen supply to his head is being cut off, 'Hollywood' isn't really able to reply, so he just flails around some more. Johnson, though, is perfectly able to enter the ring, run across and kick the Doomtopian Destroyer directly in the brain, bypassing the skull completely. So that's just what he does. OPPROBRIUM! "Just as Spike Jenkins looked to be wilting, JJ Johnson proves his worth as a tag team partner by scrambling the Doomtopian Destroyer's brains with that kick!" Francis yelps. "One of my favorite ways to make a save in a tag match. My absolute favorite, though, would be hitting a guy with a bat or something," King says. Stretching his full six feet and five inches, Jimmy the Doom tags a kneeling and possibly concussed Doomstroyer. Soapdish barely acknowledges the tag as he forces Johnson out of the ring. The Straight-Breader hops in and elbows a groggy Jenkins in the mouth. Spike drops to one knee and Doom takes off for the ropes. Jimmy flies towards 'Hollywood' and knocks him flat as the Doomstroyer crawls out of the ring with help from a shrieking Nick Soapdish STRONTIUM! "A...uh, shining Yak kick?" Francis mumbles. "Sure, why the hell not," King replies, mixing himself up a white Mongolian, which is similar to a white Russian, only panda milk is used. Sweet, sweet panda milk. Doom makes a lateral press on the downed Jenkins, but he stupidly forgets to hook the legs. ONE! TWO! THRE-No! "And Jenkins gets a shoulder up! He really needs to find a way to tag in JJ Johnson if he wants to walk out of Beijing a double champ," Mak says. "He should call a time out so he can recover a bit," King states. "If there were such a thing, I'm sure he would," Francis replies. "Oh, time outs exist in professional wrestling, you just have to know which referees allow them, or what it will cost to get one to allow a time out." The Straight-Bread Sensation lifts Jenkins off the mat, but gets a thumb poked in his eye. Spike tries to whip Jimmy into the corner, but Doom reverses and sends 'Hollywood' straight towards the Doomtopian Destroyer. Who just so happens to have his massive right hand cocked back. And the Doomstroyer also happens to be screaming something very loudly, and, in the context of everything, something very odd. "HAVA NAGILA!" HELLGRAMMITE! Spike Jenkins reels backwards from the heart punch to end all heart punches, and, as he wonders how good the cardiologists are in Beijing, he begins experiencing a new feeling. By no means is it as painful as the heart punch, but still, getting slammed onto an already tenderized back is no picnic. Doom slides forward, trying to force Spike into the acutest of angles, with only shoulder blades and up touching the mat. Soapdish drops to his knees and begins to count the pin. ONE! JJ Johnson leaps into the ring, sprinting towards the opposite corner. TWO! The Doomstroyer steps inside the squared circle and in front of Doom and 'Hollywood'. THREE! Johnson slides under the Doomtopian Destroyer's legs, connecting with Spike, but in doing so, flipping him over and breaking up the pin. DING! DING! DING! However, he's a fraction too late as Soapdish jumps up, three fingers held high in the air, signifying the end of the match, not his racist perception of the average length of a Chinese man's penis, in inches. "Hava Nagila! The Hava Nagila has won the match for The New Doomtopians, and they are the new tag team champions!" Mak screams. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" King yells, slamming his fist down on the announcer's table and spilling his white Mongolian. "Damn it!" Incredibad's "Just 2 Guyz" sounds again for the second time as both Doomtopians are presented with the tag titles. "Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match, and new tag team champions, The New Doomtopians!" Funyon shouts. Spike and Johnson are left in the ring to presumably play the blame game as Lockdown fades out completely. Or does it?!

Sean Davis stands in his locker room, even though he is not booked, he does his routine stretches. For a big man in this business, you have to stay as limber as possible. Things haven’t been going well for the big man. He lost a “friendly-contest” to the man formerly known as Toxxic and things didn’t go well for his team on Smarkdown when Mike Van Siclen came in with a steel chair. Not to mention “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins. The man Sean Davis has declared war with. Every time he goes after Spike, the little runt runs away. But he has a surprise for Jenkins…a surprise that everyone will soon find out… *Buzz* *Buzz* *Buzz* Davis is startled by the sound of his cell phone going off. He rushes over to his gym bag, unzipping it and pulling out the device. He flips it open and presses it to his ear. “A voice mail? From who?” The voice on the other line is a familiar, female voice. A voice Davis hasn’t heard in a long time. “Coming here? Tonight? But…Shit…” Davis clicks off the phone and quickly dials a new number. He again presses it to his ear, waiting for the unknown person to pick up…but it just continues to ring. “Damn it…why is she coming here? Why would she fly all the way out here? I need to see her…” Sean flips his phone shut, stuffs it into his pocket and storms out of the room, waiting for the arrival of the women from his past…

‘The Game’ by Disturbed hits. Landon enters. Boo. ‘Crusher Destroyer’ by Mastodon hits. Manson enters. Boo, also. “Oh. It’s a match,” Mak says. “Fuck Maddix,” King snorts. Manson pursues Maddix. Maddix avoids. He then ducks under a Manson clothesline, wrapping around him and going for a behind waistlock and HOLY SHIT MANSON’S OVERPOWERING AURA DOESN’T EVEN ALLOW MADDIX TO GET NEAR HIM AS HE’S DECIMATED UPON TRYING TO MAKE A GRAB FOR MANSON AS A HOLE IS BLASTED RIGHT THROUGH HIS CHEST LEAVING NOTHING BUT A GAPING CAVITY AS HE COLLAPSES TO THE GROUND AND MEGAN SKYE LOOKS ON HORRIFIED! “YES!” shouts King. “MANSONALITY!” Funyon sighs as he stands, knowing the routine by now, “By Mansonality, your winner…“ Manson places a foot on what’s left of Maddix, as every person in China bows down to Manson. “and NEW EMPEROR OF CHINA… MMMAAAAANNNNNSOOONNNN!” “Because I hate Spike,” says Mak, “it's official, I declare Emperor of China to be better than King of Cambodia.”

SWF Lockdown comes back from commercial with a bang the cameras going right into a wide shot of the jam packed temporary SWF arena right in the centre of Tiananmen Square, the SWF fans buzzing with excitement as the show rolls merrily on. The camera cuts to a sweeping view taking in the faces and waving signs of the crowd as the fanatical Chinese fans eagerly await the next match of the show. The cameras finally cut back to the announcer’s table sitting snugly against the guard rails, revealing the “Franchise” Mak Francis and his ever cynical partner the Suicide King ready as always to keep calling the action. “Good evening everyone and welcome back to SWF LOCKDOWN! It’s been a great night so far and we’re nowhere near done yet!!” Mak cries enthusiastically. “Indeed we aren’t, and those of you too lazy to tune in earlier are just in time to watch our undeserving International Champion get his head taken off and his belt ripped from his hands." The Suicide King replies with his perennial smirk. “A very bold prediction King. It was certainly a surprise to see Aecas take the title off of JJ Johnson on Smarkdown, in his third show back from hiatus. Now he faces his first title defense against a man who has been trying to hunt down this belt for some time.” “And believe me he may very well get it tonight Mak. He’s going to run rings around that big oaf and the match will be over before the front man for Baby Bio knows what hit him.” “This is also only the second time that these two men will have met in an SWF ring. They’ve not faced one another since Aecas and Janus were a tag team over a year ago. And in that match they were successful in taking away the titles from the rampaging team of Wild & Dangerous!” “And I can bet that Wildchild hasn’t forgotten that loss Mak. He wants the title and to take it from a man who cost him the Tag Belts will just make victory all the sweeter.” “And that’s not all we have for you tonight folks. Still to come we have a Hardcore match between our Champion Landon Maddix against the Cult of Mansonosity! And our Main event tonight will be for the Tag straps that both of the men in our next match once coveted. The champions, JJ Johnson and Spike Jenkins will be taking on the unstoppable force of the Doomtopians!” “Explain to me again how Jimmy the Doom managed to wrangle that match?” King asks in exasperation. “I don’t book ‘em King. I just call ‘em.” Mak replies with a diplomatic smile that simply infuriates his partner all the more. Before any further banter can occur Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” suddenly hits the speakers, the fans coming alive again as the Bahama Bomber flings the curtains blocking the entranceway aside and thrusting his arms into the air to the adoration of the Chinese fans. Melissa Fasaki steps out from the curtain, following in Wildchild’s stead as the Caribbean Cruiser starts to make his way to the ring, slapping hands with the frenzied fans who press themselves up against the aisle guards as Funyon raises his mic. “Ladies and gentlemen! The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and will be for the SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!” The dapper announcer pauses for a moment as the cheering of the fans raises again before continuing. “Introducing first, the challenger. Hailing from the Bahamas, and weighing in at 214lbs. He is THE WIIIIIIIIIILDCHIIIIIIIIIIILD!” The fans just get keep louder as Wildchild makes his way down to the ringside area, pausing only to remove his shin guards and hand them to Melissa before sprinting the short distance to the ring and somersaulting between the middle and bottom ropes, rolling up to his feet and raising his arms once more to the adoration of the fans. “Wildchild looks as ready as ever King.” “He’d better be Mak. Fastest man I know, but it won’t do him any good if he gets caught.” King says as a funeral bell starts to toll, much to the excitement of the fans before the voices of the damned speak once more. "Are you scared?" "He's here......" Amon Amarth’s “Death in Fire” erupts from the speakers as the Wildchild lowers his hands and starts to do a few warm-up stretches in the ring as smoke boils up around the entranceway. The fans let out another huge pop as Aecas emerges from behind the curtain, staff in one hand and the International Title dangling from the other. He thrusts his arms into the air, much like Wildchild did before him, the blade of the scythe springing from its haft to their delight as he lofts both belt and signature item as he begins to stride down the isle. “Annnnnnd his opponent! Weighing in at 315lbs, and hailing from Shrewsbury, England. The SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION! AYYYEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAS!” His job done, Funyon hops out of the ring as the fans erupt once more as Aecas slowly makes his way to ringside, walking around the ring, his gaze fixed on his opponent as he lets the Timekeeper relieve him of the scythe before walking slowly up the steel stairs and onto the ring apron. Wildchild isn’t intimidated, holding the giants gaze as he slowly steps through the ropes and holds the title high in one hand before finally surrendering it to referee Eddy Long. Long turns and shows the belt to Wildchild, the Bahama Bomber’s eyes locked on the gold for a few moments before he slaps the belt lightly with the palms of his hands and steps back with a nod. Long raises the belt in both hands, turning around slowly to present it to the crowd before handing it off to Funyon and moving back to the centre of the ring. He checks the positions of both men and finally signals to the Timekeeper to start the match. DING! DING! DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “And here we go! The second ever meeting of these two men with another Title on the line!” Aecas and the Wildchild begin to circle one another as the ringing of the bell fades away, both men keeping the other in sight, Aecas moving with slow sure steps while the Bahama Bomber is quicker on his feet, almost sliding across the canvas as he surveys his giant opponent. The buzzing excitement of the crowd grows louder as Aecas lunges at his opponent, trying to force the smaller man into a grappling situation. Wildchild easily avoids the lunge of his giant opponent, darting underneath his questing arms and flashing across the ring to rebound off of the ropes gaining momentum and launching himself at his giant opponent, catching Aecas in the chest with a quick Flying Forearm staggering the big man. As Aecas staggers backwards Wildchild leaps back up to his feet, The Bahama Bomber pressing the attack once again ducking under a huge Lariat attempt to hit the ropes once again leaping back and sending the Black Angel staggering back once again as he smashes into the giants chest with a lightning fast Leg Lariat. “Wildchild is starting this match with his usual fast pace but he can’t seem to knock Aecas down!” “Just you watch Mak; size is no match for the kind of speed that WC possesses. It’s only a matter of time.” King’s words are soon proved correct as WC flips back up to his feet again before leaving them a second later as he sends both boots thudding into Aecas’ left knee, the Black Angel dropping down to one knee as his left leg is forcibly knocked from under him. Now that he’s chopped his opponent down to size WC continues his assault, leaping into the air and snapping Aecas’ head to one side with a vicious Gamengiri kick to the face, sending his huge opponent crumpling to the canvas like a sack of bricks. Wasting not a second the Bahama Bomber dives down on top of the Black Angel for an early cover. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “A quick cover and a quick kickout by Aecas!” “See what I mean Mak? Wildchild is just too quick for Aecas, though unfortunately it’s going to take more than a few kicks to the head to put Psycho #3 over there down for the three count.” Both men begin to get back to their feet, Wildchild popping up as Aecas starts to push himself back up, the Bahama bomber quickly moves to the ropes stepping out onto the ring apron and gripping the top rope with both hands as he watches his challenger get back to his feet. As Aecas straightens up once again Wildchild uses the ropes to slingshot himself back into the ring the Bahama Bomber twisting his body into a horizontal position as he attempts to Crossbody the giant. This time however things do not go WC’s way as Aecas’ arms shoot up to grab him around the neck and right leg as he crashes into his broad chest. The Black Angel uses his challenger’s momentum against him, twisting around and planting the Human Hurricane in the center of the ring with a huge Powerslam, hooking Wildchild's right leg as he too tries for an early pinfall. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Wildchild wasn’t quite quick enough on that one King!” “So what Mak? You aren’t going to beat WC with just one move.” Aecas is quick to get back up to his feet dragging WC back by his braided hair before he grabs the right arm of the Bahama Bomber and Irish Whips him hard into the ropes. Wildchild rebounds from the cables ducking under a huge Big Boot attempt before he bounces off the ropes once again and Dropkicks Aecas in the knee a second time before the champion has time to turn around. The giant grimaces as WC’s boots hit the back of his knee this time sending him down to one leg once more. A swift kick to the back of the head rocks the champion long enough for the Human Hurricane to use the ropes to vault outside onto the apron. No sooner have his feet touched the canvas than WC jumps up once again, springboarding himself off the top rope and catching Aecas in the back of the head with a hellish looking Missile Dropkick, sending the giant crashing face down to the canvas. “Wildchild already speeding the pace of the match up again! Trying to take Aecas apart piece by piece.” “And that’s exactly what he has to do Mak. Keep him off his feet and wear him down, if he can keep this up, and avoid those ham sized fists we’ll have a better champion.” Aecas is already beginning to push himself back up to his feet once more, the giant trying to shake off the hard blows to the head and temple he just suffered and Wildchild is poised and ready to take advantage. The Bahama Bomber quickly moves around in front of Aecas, his right foot lashing forwards to smack across the pale chest of his opponent with a straight kick, WC draws his foot back once again and measures the Black Angel with another stiff kick to the chest before laying several stiff punches into the head of the champion with his gauze covered fists. “Wildchild laying in some hard shots to the champion, putting that gauze to good use!” “He shouldn’t keep this up for too long Mak. It may sting but it’s still giving Aecas time to recover.” Wildchild nails one more solid punch into Aecas’ head before he hits the ropes once more, hurtling back in towards the champion and planting both feet squarely into his face with a basement Dropkick. Aecas goes down hard once more and Wildchild is quick to make another cover. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aecas’ right shoulder shoots off the canvas but Wildchild is already in motion once more. Leaping to his feet and charging the ropes once more, jumping onto the second rope and catapulting himself backwards with a no hands Lionsault, crashing back down onto the champion but things don’t go all his way as one huge hand clamps fast onto his throat after the hard landing. “Beautiful Lionsault by Wildchild but Aecas has got him trapped!” Mak cries out as Aecas quickly sits up, keeping a hard grip on the throat of the Bahama Bomber, Wildchild desperately slamming punches into the gut of the champion, trying to loosen his grip. Its to no avail however as Aecas grabs a handful of WC’s tights and hoists him up into the air, but the Human Hurricane brings his knees up as he’s lifted, cracking them solidly into Aecas’ chin. The Black Angel quickly drops his challenger, and WC is even quicker to hit the ropes once more, leaping high and trying for another Flying Forearm but Aecas won’t be moved. His huge right arm wraps itself around the upper body of the Bahama Bomber before the champion drives his small opponent hard into the canvas with a modified STO, stopping his momentum dead and dropping down for another cover. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … THR-NOKICKOUT!!!!!!!! The fans come alive as WC still kicks out strongly, the Caribbean Cruiser rolling to his front and clutching at the back of his head before a large hand grabs hold of his braids once more and wrenches him back up to his feet. A huge boot to the gut dispels any notions of resistance for a brief moment as Aecas wraps his huge right arm around WC’s head, his left hand grabbing another handful of the Bahama Bomber’s tights. Aecas hauls his opponent off of his feet, the giant holding the challenger effortlessly above his head forming a two man tower as the Black Angel lets WC think about what’s happening for a moment before he drops him straight south; catering his head into the canvas with a solid, cringe inducing Brainbuster. The crowd erupts again as the two men hit the canvas, Wildchild sitting back up again after the impact, a dazed expression on his face and his head lolling before he flops back down to the canvas. Aecas quickly covering his challenger once more as Eddy Long rushes over to count the pinfall. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … KICKOUT!!!!!!!! Dazed though he might be, Wildchild still has enough wits about him to kick out a second after Long’s palm slaps the canvas for two; Aecas quickly pulls WC back up to his feet once again. Irish Whipping the challenger into the nearest corner before charging in after him like a rampaging bull. Wildchild hits the corner turnbuckles hard but still manages to get both boots up and smash them into the face of his giant opponent, stopping the Black Angel dead in his tracks. “Aecas is trying to keep taking the fight to his challenger but Wildchild has got the drop on him again!” “Like I said before Mak, speed is going to be the decisive factor here. But Wildchild needs to hit something big and he needs to do it fast! He can’t afford to take many more hits like that.” Wildchild is doing just that, the champion boosting himself up to sit on the top turnbuckle wrapping his right arm around the head of the giant and leaping away from the corner twisting his body in mid air as he tries to plant Aecas headfirst into the canvas with a Tornado DDT. The Black Angel’s arms grab WC firmly around the waist, moving with his challenger and planting the Bahama Bomber firmly back on his feet. Having avoided the DDT Aecas quickly wraps his arms around WC’s waist hauling him up into the air for a Northern Lights Suplex into the turnbuckles. Unfortunately for Aecas Wildchild again doesn’t go willingly, the Human Hurricane tightening his arm around the giant’s head and bringing his knees into play once more, smashing them into the gut of the champion as he fights the Suplex with all his might. Eventually gravity takes hold, aided by the vicious knee smashes and Aecas cannot keep his grip on the writhing champion. The Bahama Bomber throws all his weight backwards, dragging Aecas’ head down as he finally completes the move, drilling the giant’s head into the canvas with a monstrous DDT! “Well that’ll stop your momentum in a hurry!” Mak observes as Wildchild rolls away from the champion, pushing himself up to his knees as he clutches at his head with both hands, trying to fight off the pain as Aecas is already starting to stir on the canvas. Forcing himself back up to his feet Wildchild backs up a few steps, watching the champion intently as he keeps one hand at the back of his head, massaging his sore neck. As son as Aecas rises to one knee he makes his move, rushing back across the ring and leaping up into the air, draping his right leg over the back of Aecas’ head and smashing the champion face first into the canvas once more. “Caribbean Cutter!” Mak cries out as the move hits home, the fans making their presence known all the more as Wildchild slowly rolls his huge opponent over and covers him again, hooking one large leg with all his might as the fans count along with the referee. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … KICKOUT!!!!!!!! Aecas gets the shoulder up once again, roughly tossing Wildchild off of him before he rolls himself under the bottom rope and out of the ring. Melissa quickly makes herself scarce as the champion’s feet touch the floor, moving over to the announcer’s table and voicing her support for Wildchild along with the fans as he too doggedly gets back up to his feet. The Caribbean Cruiser is quickly on the move once more, rushing across the ring with a second Basement Dropkick, catching Aecas right in the face and sending the champion staggering back into the guardrail much to the delight of the fans. With his opponent temporarily incapacitated, Wildchild retreats to the far side of the ring, mounting the turnbuckle and showing off his obscene ability to balance as he perches on the top rope, watching Aecas intently. The moment the Black Angel starts to push himself away from the guardrail Wildchild is one the move, the Bahama Bomber stunning the fans both in attendance and at home as he runs across the tope rope. The fans are gob smacked but that doesn’t stop the cheers from rising louder and louder as the Caribbean Cruiser reaches the far turnbuckle and without a thought for his personal safely launches himself into the air and smashes Aecas back into the guardrail with a massive Somersault Senton splash. “Sweet other of GOD Mak!” Is all the Suicide King can say as Wildchild slowly picks himself up and thrusts his arms into the air before sagging back against the guardrail for a moment, the fans going ballistic as Aecas lays slumped against the bottom of the guardrail, a look of what might be astonishment on his face. “Andros Dive! These fans can’t believe it, and I don’t think Aecas can either!” Mak shrieks as Eddy Long moves up to the ropes and begins to count out both men. The crowd is buzzing after such a display, several highly accented “WILDCHILD!” chants starting to break out as the Bahama Bomber grabs one of Aecas’ arms and strains to drag his huge opponent away from the guard rail. The challenger heaves with all his might but can do little to shift the giant champion, WC is forced to stop his efforts as Long’s count reaches eight, the Bahama Bomber sliding into the ring and then immediately sliding back out. “Smart move by the challenger. He knows he can’t win the belt by count out so he’s got to get Aecas back in the ring somehow.” Wildchild grabs Aecas’ arm once more but this time gets pushed away as the champion starts to recover some of his coherence after his challenger’s insane leap that sandwiched him into the guard rail. Not to be put off WC darts back in to slam a stiff punch into the side of Aecas’ head, quickly following it up with a second as Aecas’ head snaps back from the first. The gauze covered fist rattles the head of the champion but he’s certainly not out of it enough not to fight back, and fight back he does, one huge forearm sledge hammering itself into Wildchild’s face and dropping the Bahama Bomber where he stands. Hearing Long’s count starting to ratchet up again Aecas rolls back into the ring, slowly getting back up to his feet and draping his arms over the ropes as he watches Wildchild get back to his feet, shrugging off Melissa’s helping hand as he looks up angrily at the champion. Aecas steps back from the ropes after a few moments and raises his hands, urging the Bahama Bomber to get back into the ring. Wildchild is only to happy to oblige, leaping back up to the apron and gripping the top rope in both hands before springboarding himself back into the ring at Aecas, feet first. Wildchild may be fast but this time Aecas can see him coming and the big man manages to swat those questing feet aside, giving nothing to Wildchild except a rough landing on the canvas. “Shot and a miss with the Dropkick.” Mak quips as Aecas quickly dives on the rising Wildchild, arms wrapping around the smaller mans middle in a tight waist lock before Aecas heaves his opponent backwards for a German Suplex. The Caribbean Cruiser is simply too quick, slipping out of the champion’s grasp in mid air and somersaulting out to land neatly on his feet as Aecas lands on his back. The champion sits up, quickly moving to his knees but he’s already given Wildchild all the opening that he needs as the Bahama Bomber charges in and flips over the champion, grabbing his head in mid flip and planting his face squarely into the canvas. “Whiplash!” Mak cries out. “This one could be it!” “Come on Long get in there and count!” The Suicide King screams as the referee dives for the mat, the acid tongued announcer now counting along gleefully. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!! … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! But it’s not to be as Aecas’ shoulder comes sharply off the canvas before Long can strike three, the kickout getting another mixed reaction from the fans, half in favor of Aecas and half in the favor of the Wildchild. “Wildchild has gone for every cover he can in the course of this match, but he’s still not been able to put Aecas away yet.” Mak observes as WC grabs the champion by the hair and starts to drag him back up into a sitting position. “He’s playing it smart; take every opportunity you can get. It only takes three seconds to make you a new champion but the real challenge is keeping a man that size down for that long.” Having pulled Aecas back up to a sitting position, Wildchild gives him a simple and effective punch to the temple before taking a step back and crouching down, watching the champion intently as he starts to slowly pick himself up. “And Wildchild is stalking Aecas!” Mak exclaims. “I never thought I’d hear myself say that!” He muses as an afterthought as Aecas gets up to one knee and then rises slowly up to his feet. Wildchild makes his move, dashing past the champion and leaping with almost inhuman grace to the top rope on the far side of the ring, the fans coming alive once more as he curls up into a ball and then hurls himself back into the ring. Aecas has just enough time to see the 214lb cannonball coming at him before the challenger thuds squarely into his chest, sending him stumbling back into the ropes as Wildchild crashes down to the canvas. Neither man moves for a moment, but it’s Wildchild who makes the first move, pushing himself back up to his feet as quickly as he can before he charges the champion as he lies on the ropes. Confused as he might be by the sheer speed of Wildchild’s attacks Aecas’ brain still functions and tells him to simply fall out of the way as Wildchild leaps for him yet again. The Black Angel’s legs go out from under him, his hands grabbing hold of the top rope and yanking it down as Wildchild sails neatly over the top of him in a cross body attempt. One arm catches the bent top rope and instead of sailing six feet to a hard landing in the aisle Wildchild crashes first onto the apron and then down onto the ring mats covering the hard asphalt to sympathetic groans from many of the closest fans. “Well that’s one instance where being quick won’t help you.” The Suicide King says dryly as Aecas slowly rolls out of the ring after his opponent, Melissa Fasaki quickly abandoning her efforts to check on Wildchild as the champion looms into view once again. Aecas is quick to pull his challenger off the floor, rolling the Bahama Bomber back into the ring and sliding in after him to grab him by the hair and pull him back to his feet once more. A solid forearm shot sends the Human Hurricane staggering back into the ropes, a second almost sending him out of the ring before the Black Angel grabs him by the shoulders, twisting him around and grabbing a solid waistlock. Aecas tries for a second German Suplex attempt but Wildchild is too close to the ropes, the Bahama Bomber desperately hooking legs and arms into the cabling to block the move. Undaunted Aecas simply loosens his grip long enough to slam another solid forearm into the back of WC’s head, that in turn loosens Wildchild’s deathgrip on the ropes, allowing Aecas to drag him back a pace and plant his challenger squarely on his head with a German Suplex. Long is ready to go for the count but Aecas apparently isn’t done, keeping the waistlock tight and rolling himself onto his front before getting back up to his feet, taking Wildchild with him and altering his grip, putting the Bahama Bomber’s left arm in a Half Nelson before grabbing the right arm and dragging it across the throat of the challenger. “Cobra Clutch!” Mak cries out before Aecas puts the nail in the coffin, arching back and spiking Wildchild on his head a second time with a Cobra Clutch Suplex, letting the now limp form of his challenger collapse to the canvas before quickly applying a lateral press. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!!!!!!! … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOFOOTONTHEROPE! At the last possible second Wildchild manages to find the presence of mind to drape his foot over the bottom rope, just within reach, Melissa Fasaki screaming at Eddy Long who barley manages to halt the count, the fans erupting anew as Wildchild stays in the fight. “Wildchild’s not done yet! He wants that belt so bad he can taste it!” Mak shrieks as Aecas looks up in surprise that he didn’t get a three count, slowly pushing himself back to his feet as Melissa implores Wildchild to get up. “And he had to use the ropes to save himself? One more big move and this is over Mak.” The Suicide King says sullenly as Aecas raises three fingers and a questioning look to referee Eddy Long. “Then again if the champion is stupid enough to take his attention from his opponent I could be wrong.” King sneers as Long kicks the bottom rope with his foot in indication of a rope break before the three. “We don’t agree all that often King but you’re right. Aecas should be focusing solely on putting away his opponent, not questioning Eddy’s decision.” Mak reluctantly affirms as the Black Angel turns back to his opponent, finding that Wildchild is haphazardly lifting himself back up to his feet, using the ropes for leverage as he staggers upright. A large hand grabs one shoulder of the challenger and spins him around before the champion takes hold of an arm and Irish Whips him across the ring to a hard landing in the corner. The Black Angel backs up a pace and then charges in at WC, the ring shaking with his footsteps, his right foot snaps up to Yakuza Kick Wildchild’s face off but ends up stranded on the top rope as the challenger dives aside at the last possible moment. Wildchild reacts as quickly as he can as Aecas tries to free his leg, leaping as high as his aching body will carry him and cracking his foot into the back of Aecas’ head with an Enzugiri that rocks the big man where he stands. Aecas shakes his head after the blow, managing to free his leg before he turns right into a desperation Gamengiri that sends him sprawling back into the corner. The fans start to come alive once again as Wildchild boots Aecas solidly in the gut, the champion over as WC turns his back on his huge opponent, reaching backwards and starting to underhook the arms. “Double Underhook! We could be in for a Wild Driver King!” Mak cries, echoing the cheering of the fans as having captured the left arm Wildchild tries to grab hold of the right, but just as the Bahama Bomber is not out of action yet neither is Aecas. The cheering of the fans sways again as the Black Angel’s greater strength easily allows him to free his left arm from Wildchild’s desperate clutches after a brief struggle. The Black Angel quickly pushing his head forwards between the challengers legs, hands grabbing WC by the knees as he straightens up and the challenger finds himself seven feet in the air. The fans are on their feet as Aecas slowly walks out of the corner, Wildchild slamming punch after punch into the head of the champion, in a desperate attempt to slow him down. Aecas flinches with each strike, raising his arms to try and ward off the blows, finally capturing one and then both hands, letting Wildchild struggle and strain on his shoulders as he turns around slowly, the fans screaming for both men as they know the end is nigh. “There’s nowhere for Wildchild to go!” Mak yells above the fans as Aecas crosses Wildchild’s arms in a version of a Straightjacket before he arches backwards. The champion topples like a falling tree into a huge bridge position, smashing Wildchild head and neck first into the canvas and folding the challenger in half as he locks those trunk like legs into as tight a bridge as they can manage. “Ocean Cyclone Suplex!” Mak shrieks as the ring shakes from the impact and Eddy Long dives down onto his front to make the count. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … … … THREE!!!!!!!!!! DING! DING! DING! Aecas releases the bridge and his opponent as the bell sounds and “Death in Fire” starts to roar from the speakers once more. The Black Angel lies on his back, staring up at the sky as Wildchild slowly rolls over and flops onto his front, having enough strength to pull his arms up and clutch at his head. As a concerned Melissa looks on from ringside and Eddy long exits the squared circle to retrieve the belt Funyon raises his mic once more. “Ladies and Gentlemen! The winner of the match, and STILL SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION! The Black Angel! AYYYYYYECAAAAAAAS!” The fans explode once more as Aecas slowly sits up, gathering his legs beneath him and standing to accept his belt back from Eddy Long, the referee taking the champion’s left arm and raising it as high as he can as Aecas lifts the title in his right to the delight of the fans. “What a war we just witnessed King!” Mak exclaims, as excited as the fans as Aecas slowly lowers his arm, making his way to the ropes and leaning against them heavily for a moment before stepping out onto the apron and down to the floor. “And yet we’re still left with a crackpot for a champion Mak.” The Suicide King mutters as Aecas retrieves his scythe from the Timekeepers table and starts to make his way around the ring to the aisle. “That’s as maybe King but you can’t deny the spirit of Wildchild, he didn’t show the slightest bit of intimidation getting in that ring, took every chance he could and still came back for more.” “But he still lost Mak.” King says bitterly as Melissa Fasaki slides into the ring to check on Wildchild’s condition, the Bahama Bomber starting to stir, moving up to his knees as he clutches at the back of his head, pain easily readable on his face. “This time King. I doubt that’s the last time we’ll see these two men in action.” Mak replies solemnly as Aecas walks slowly down the aisle, pausing at the makeshift entranceway to lift both staff and title into the air once more, a slow shark like smile appearing on his face as the fans cheer all the louder at that simple action before he disappears to the backstage area. Back in the ring Melissa is helping Wildchild back to his feet, the Bahama Bomber is unsteady but he’s made of stern stuff and remains on his feet, slowly making his way to the ropes and half climbing, half falling down to the floor. He slowly makes his way down the aisle, one hand on Melissa’s shoulder to keep himself steady as the fans rally behind him; chanting the name of the Human Hurricane all the way to the back. “Well I hope all you folks at home enjoyed that match as much as we did. And you’re going to want to stay tuned because there is still more to come before the day is out!” Mak says as the cameras cut back to the announcers table. “Indeed there is. Coming up next we cue the blood.” The Suicide King says with a somewhat malicious smile. “We certainly do. Its going to be Manson against Landon Maddix in tonight’s scheduled Hardcore match.” “I almost feel sorry for Manson. Maddix was embarrassed by a loss to Zyon on Storm and Manson drew the short straw to be crash dummy.” “Maddix made a bold statement and couldn’t back it up King. He’s got nobody to blame but himself.” Mak says evenly. “And a win over the World Champion, even if it was a non title match is one hell of a statement.” “Rubbish, Zyon got lucky Mak. End of story. He’d better pray he doesn’t run into Maddix backstage one of these days or things will get very ugly.” “Well we’ll see King. We’ll see. That aside we need to drop to commercial for a few minutes folks but stay tuned, Manson Vs. Landon Maddix is up next!”

I assume a followup to the opening promo is in the works, but I don't know where it goes, so I'll just leave this post open for it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms, his voice ringing out around Tianenman Square. “Introducing first…” At this point ‘S*kt It Up’ by (hed) PE kicks up and the crowd starts cheering, even the Chinese fans recognising and respecting the entrance music of David Cross. The former Fallen Angel steps out from behind the curtain onto the rampway and into the view of the mass of cheering humanity, the raises one black-gloved fist in salute. “…from Oil City, Pennsylvania and now residing in Salem, Oregon, he stands at six feet and five inches tall and weighed in today at 269lbs,” Funyon continues, “this is DAVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID… CRRRRROSSSSSSSSSS!!!” “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Cross is getting a good reaction from the fans,” Mak notes. “Damn Commies are so starved for entertainment they’ll even cheer a loser like him,” King mutters. “You just wait and hear their reaction for his opponent though. It’s all about name value out here.” David Cross walks down the ramp slapping hands with the fans as he goes, then rolls into the ring and climbs to the second buckle before raising both arms in the air. The fans give another cheer which is acknowledged by a tight grin from Cross before the big man drops back to the mat and strips off his leather jacket and cross which he hands to the timekeeper for safekeeping. Referee Brian Warner comes and checks him over for concealed weapons, which Cross is blatantly not carrying. “David Cross hasn’t had all that much joy since returning to the SWF,” Francis says, “he’s picked up a couple of wins but nothing that remarkable, and hasn’t seen the success that he had in late 2004 when he won the USJL Title and took the Tag Titles with Christian Fury as part of Team ANGER. However, a win over his opponent here today could really kick-start his career again.” “You honestly think that’s likely?” King asks dubiously. “I said it could do wonders for his career. I never said how likely I thought it was,” Mak covers himself. It’s at this moment that a rolling chant crashes out across the Square, sounding like a crowd of a thousand are all shouting in unison: “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” Then the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire comes in, the distinctive bassline starting to cut through as the portable Smarktron set up above the entranceway darkens to black while jagged white letters flash a familiar phrase up one word at a time: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ The bass drum starts to pound while the Smarktron shows famous clips from notable matches, including the Super Intoxxication on Tom Flesher that won Michael Stephens his first World Title, the scenes finally building to Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!!* -blast of red pyro on the soundstage that announces the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman! And then, through the flame and smoke… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …while the Chinese fans chant his old ring name in unison… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …black hair hanging loosely around his face and with his customised England soccer shirt on… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …comes the man who will, unwillingly, be facing Landon Maddix at 13th Hour. “AND HIS OPPONENT,” Funyon roars, struggling to make himself heard over the simultaneous chanting coming from thousands of throats, “from Nottingham, England! He stands at an even six feet and weighed in today at 218lbs, this is MIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Michael Stephens seems if anything a little overwhelmed by the volume of the reaction, but given the amount of people packed into Tianenman Square they could all be whispering and it’d still be deafening. The former World Champion jogs down the entrance ramp until he reaches the bottom, then cracks his neck from side to side before briefly crossing his arms in what might be the straight-edge ‘X’ sign, but then flings them to either side, palms down, in a motion that’s much more ‘him’… *BOOM!* …and more red pyro shoots up from each ringpost as the first verse of ‘Rookie’ kicks in! ‘I never thought this could be me I guess you never do until it’s happening to you Like all the thoughts that turned to shame And all the “could-have-beens” just rearrange…’ Stephens rolls into the ring and pops up to his feet, then pulls his shirt off before wadding it up and hurling it out to the crowd where a couple of Chinese girls fight over it while pretending not to. The Englishman cracks his neck again and then extends his hand to David Cross, who looks at it dubiously before cautiously shaking. “Michael Stephens and David Cross are no strangers to each other,” Francis reminds viewers, “although they have never faced off one-on-one they were on opposite teams in a couple of six-man tags in 2004, and then of course there was the three-way dance which saw Stephens and his then-partner Sean Davis take the Tag Titles from Cross and his partner Christian Fury with Ghost and Todd Cortez also in the match. All of that may explain why Cross was a little reluctant to shake Stephens’ hand just now…” “So what you’re saying is, David Cross is 0-3 against Toxxic,” King yawns, “Christ, this is going to be more boring than I thought.” ‘Rookie’ has now faded out and Funyon has left the ring, leaving Brian Warner in charge and alone with the two athletes. The referee signals for the bell… *DING-DING-DING!* …and David Cross immediately comes forward, looking to close with his quicker opponent before Mike can start to outmanoeuvre him. Stephens seems content to engage in a lock-up, but instead of accepting that where his greater strength and leverage might give him an obvious advantage Cross elects to pull a surprise and suddenly shoots low, taking Stephens off-guard with a double-leg takedown! The bigger man then leaps onto Mike and applies a headlock, looking to ground his cruiserweight opponent, but Stephens swings his legs up and grabs a headscissors which enables him to pull Cross off. Cross finds himself head down between Stephens’ legs with the top of his head resting on the mat, which wasn’t exactly the result he had anticipated, and he starts looking for a way out by levering his hands between Stephens’ legs and trying to pry them apart. “Both men in the ring like to start off their matches with some low-risk ‘technical’ wrestling,” Francis says, not quite able to keep a former amateur wrestler’s disdain out of his voice, “Cross building to big power moves while I suspect Stephens will be aiming to hit some of the high-flying moves he used to throw out with such abandon.” “Read: Hoss in wrestler’s clothing vs spotmonkey in denial,” King replies. David Cross is a big, strong man, and his arms are a match for Michael Stephens’ legs in terms of pure strength. It takes him about twenty seconds or so, but eventually he manages to lever Mike’s legs apart enough to extract his head, then immediately changes his grip to Stephens’ ankle in what seems to be an attempt to turn the smaller man over and apply an STF. However, Mike is savvy to this and refuses to let it happen, then uses his free leg to start firing kicks at David Cross’s knee. It just so happens that is the knee that blew out and ruined David’s football career and so he’s rather protective of it; whether or not Stephens knew that or was just kicking randomly is unclear, but Cross releases his grip and jumps backwards to evade his opponent’s flailing feet, and Stephens rolls back to a vertical base. “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” It appears that the Chinese fans have been watching American programming closely and have picked up the correct chants; even more surprising perhaps is the fact that the crowd are split between the former three-time World Champion and the man from Pennsylvania. However, it seems that a fair percentage of the audience have not forgiven Stephens for his former actions and are firmly behind his opponent. Regardless, each man is having his name chanted as they close with each other again. This time they do go into a lock-up, but Stephens twists out almost immediately to get behind Cross and apply a hammerlock, wrenching the bigger man’s arm up behind his back. David Cross is unfazed and he lashes out with his left arm to catch Mike in the face with a back elbow, then twists out of his opponent’s grip and reverses the hold so that he applies a hammerlock to Stephens. Mike tries a back elbow as well but Cross is wise to it and blocks it, so Stephens stamps on his foot instead; as Cross lets out a cry of pain and involuntarily shifts his position the Englishman twists out in his turn, then keeps hold of Cross’s right arm and applies an armwringer. “A slightly unorthodox counter there,” Francis notes, “but both men are still jockeying for position here.” David Cross is unimpressed at having his right arm twisted and so he rolls forward to release the pressure, then when he gets back to his feet takes a hold of Stephens’ wrist and reverses the move to put Michael Stephens in the same uncomfortable position. However, David Cross isn’t content to stop there and hauls Mike towards him- *WHAM!* -before delivering a blistering short-arm lariat! “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “It looks like David Cross has lost patience with the technical game,” Mak comments, “and he’s decided to step things up a gear!” Sure enough Cross doesn’t give the rattled Englishman any time to recover and reaches down to haul him to his feet, then whips Stephens into the ropes. The cruiserweight rebounds at a fair speed but Cross is ready for him, snatching him up before twisting around 180 degrees and driving him into the mat with a spinebuster! *BANG!* Cross immediately makes a cover, hooking the leg as Brian Warner drops to count… ONE! TW- -but Stephens kicks out before the count of two, a lariat and a spinebuster not being enough to get a nearfall even on this notoriously fragile former World Champion! Cross grunts and starts to get up, bringing Mike with him, then hooks his opponent up as if for a vertical suplex. However Cross gives that impression the lie by raising one hand in the air… ‘BRAINBUSTAAAAAAAH!’ “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The shouts gets a pop from the crowd and Cross grabs the waist of Stephens’ pants, then hoists him up into the air… but Mike knees Cross in the head on the way up and gets dropped back to his feet as the former Tag Champion loses his concentration, then instantly spins to one side and takes Cross down with a modified swinging neckbreaker! “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” Michael doesn’t stop there though, as he grabs Cross as the bigger man starts to get back up, then takes David’s right wrist in his right hand and the left wrist in his left one. With the opposite hands captured Stephens crosses his opponent’s arms and twists around so that he is back to back with the big man before sitting out with a Goku-Raku neckbreaker. From there Stephens rolls onto his front with the Goku-Raku still applied, before rolling forward over Cross’s head and bridging to apply an inverted Goku-Raku Clutch! “This is blatantly, blatantly stolen from Scott Pretzler,” King spits. “And?” Francis asks, “it’s not like he’s using it.” Brian Warner leans down to ask David Cross whether he wants to give it up, but the big man is hanging on and firmly denying any such intention. As the seconds pass Cross’s face starts to go more and more interesting shades of red and purple but he continues to resist… and finally Stephens releases the hold, unable to maintain the bridge anymore. “I stand corrected,” King says, “the addition of that stupid bridge has made the hold far less effective than Pretzler’s Godly Snowflake Clutch.” “It’s still done some damage,” Mak argues, “David Cross’s neck will have been weakened and the blood flow to his brain restricted - he’s going to be hurting and light-headed for a while.” Michael Stephens looks to be taking advantage of just that situation as he pulls Cross up to his feet (not without some effort), then places his head underneath Cross’s chin and sits out with a jawbreaker that causes David to stumble away clutching his face. Things don’t get better for the former Fallen Angel however, as when he turns back to his opponent Stephen is waiting for him and the Englishman lashes out with a RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! Windup… …DISCUS CLOTHESLINE! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Stephens seems to have jarred his arm slightly with the effort of taking the bigger Cross off his feet, but he hooks the leg of his recumbent opponent and makes a cover… ONE! TW- -and now it’s Cross’s turn to kick out before two, the resilient American nowhere near ready to concede defeat! Stephens seems to have an objection to that and grabs David’s head to haul the bigger man up again, then pastes him with a European uppercut that staggers the former USJL Champion. Before Cross can fire back Stephens grabs him in a ¾ headlock, turns and runs for the turnbuckles in preparation for the Sunny In England, but Cross uses sheer muscle to push him off and Stephens is propelled chest-first into the corner instead! *WHAM!* The gasping straight-edger staggers backwards, only to find David Cross’s right arm snaking beneath his before the big man arches backwards to spike his opponent into the mat with a half-nelson suplex! *BANG!* Stephens land on the back of his head and flops over onto his front, momentarily as limp as a boned fish. Cross pauses for half a second to catch a breath, then rolls his opponent over onto his back and makes the cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Stephens kicks out! “I think Michael Stephens showed some ring rust there,” Francis says, “it was too early to go for the Sunny In England, and he should have known it.” “Is it ever actually sunny in England?” King wonders. “Not everyone comes from Vegas, Brian.” “Damn right. We’ve got standards to maintain.” Cross takes hold of Stephens under each arm and hauls the smaller man back to his feet, then lashes out with a kick to the gut. Stephens doubles over as the breath is blasted from his lungs, but not for long as David Cross catches him with a wicked kneelift that brings him back upright and causes the former World Champion to stagger back a couple of steps… and the former Fallen Angel then whips a crescent kick into Stephens’ face, flooring him again! “It’s worth noting that we haven’t seen Stephens take to the air at all so far,” Mak Francis notes, “he got caught when he tried the old aerial game against Sean Davis; literally in fact, because the Perfect Storm turned it into a press slam. However, David Cross is a good striker and probably Stephens’ match on the mat as well, so if the Sensation doesn’t want to go high-risk he may struggle in this match!” “I don’t see what the issue is,” Suicide King gripes, “if it’s in the rules, do it. If it’s not in the rules wait until the referee’s not looking, then do it anyway.” However, stubborn as Michael Stephens is in terms of his moves he seems to be equally stubborn in terms of the match, as he is already getting up again after that last combination from David Cross. He’s not looking in a great way mind you, a fact that’s shown when Cross, who has been manoeuvring around looking for the right opening, simply slaps his hand across Mike’s throat with no real resistance from the Englishman. From there it’s an easy matter to hoist Stephens up… …and bring him back down! *BANG!!* “Chokeslam with authority!” Mak Francis calls as Cross does his best to drive Stephens through the mat to the floor, “this could be Cross’s chance to win!” Sure enough, the man from Pennsylvania has dropped to make the cover… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Michael Stephens kicks out just before the three-count! Cross shows some evidence of frustration at this result and has a brief conversation with Brian Warner about how accurate that count was, but when the referee makes it clear he’s sticking to his original decision Cross shrugs and turns his attention back to his opponent. Mike has now turned over onto his front in an instinctive effort to keep his shoulders off the canvas, but that’s no worry to Cross as he twists Stephens’ arm around his leg, then rolls over the smaller man’s shoulders to bring him into a pinning position with a La Magistral! ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Mike kicks out again, the expertly-applied cradle still not able to keep him down! David Cross is clearly losing patience now and he hauls Stephens up rather more roughly and with less respect than before in the match, mainly demonstrated by the fact that he’s using a handful of Mike’s floppy black hair to do it with. Once upright Cross delivers a stinging open-handed slap to Stephens’ jaw to stun him, then slaps his thigh a few times and turns towards the ropes. “Yakuza kick coming up,” Francis says, “from a white man with no connection to the Japanese underworld, I might add.” Cross picks up speed and hits the ropes then rebounds towards the swaying Stephens and lifts one big right boot, ready to take Mike’s head clean off his shoulders… …but Stephens ducks! Cross staggers on, not expecting the lack of resistance to his foot, and as he does so Michael Stephens starts running himself, towards the ropes that Cross just bounced off. Cross’s momentum carries him into the far cables and he rebounds back as well, only to find Michael Stephens accelerating towards him and- *CRACK!* -slicing his legs out from under him with a soccer tackle! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Shades of Stuart Pearce!” Mak yells. “Huh?” “Legendary England defender. Don’t show your ignorance.” David Cross crashes to the mat before rolling, ending up in a kneeling position near the ropes. This isn’t a great position to be in however, and he works that out a split-second before Stephens, now back on his feet, delivers a running basement dropkick to the temple! *SMACK!* “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Michael Stephens grabs David Cross and hauls him away from the ropes before covering him, perhaps hoping that he’s scored a freak knockout shot… ONE! TWO!! …but it is not to be, as the resilient Cross kicks out! Stephens grimaces as if to say ‘well, it couldn’t hurt’, then grabs Cross by the head and pulls him up back-to-back until the Englishman is in a position to deliver a Hangman’s neckbreaker. However, he instead twists back to face his opponent and sits out in one fluid motion, taking Cross with him so that the big man’s head is driven into the mat with the Pressure Drop. *BANG!* “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Stephens doesn’t acknowledge the Chinese fans, although whether that’s because he doesn’t like to be associated with the name they’re chanting or because he hasn’t got the time or energy isn’t clear. Instead he rolls David Cross over onto his back, but rather than going for the cover on the momentarily-stunned American he heads for the corner where he steps through the ropes and begins to climb the turnbuckles. “Michael Stephens is going up top,” Francis notes, “and this could be all-important. If he hits whatever he’s about to do it could end the match, but if he misses…” Stephens has reached the top rope now and he pauses for a second to be sure of his footing (and perhaps check that David Cross isn’t about to roll away after playing possum), then leaps off, performing a somersault as he go before landing a leg across Cross’s throat with the Hangover! *WHAM!* Cross spasms in pain as it hits and Stephens rolls into the cover immediately, ignoring the pain in his hip as he makes sure to hook Cross’s leg to make it as sure as he can… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “Now that was close,” Francis says. The Cross fans are exercising their vocal chords to their full extent as the Fallen Angel refuses to go down, kicking out of the rolling guillotine legdrop! Stephens puffs his cheeks out in annoyance and casts a brief glare at Brian Warner, but neglects to take it up with the referee. Instead the straight-edger grabs David Cross and haul him up to a vertical base, boots him in the gut and places him in a vertical headscissors before reaching down to apply a double underhook. “Uh-oh, this could get ugly,” King says with… well, no real concern at all, if we’re honest. “King, Michael Stephens is not Landon Maddix,” Francis chides, “he’s setting Cross up for the Stephens Shock Syndrome, or Triple S as he calls it these days.” “He finally figured out that tampon reference, right?” Michael Stephens knows that this is going to be a strain, but he grits his teeth, takes a deep breath and lifts. David Cross’s feet leave the floor and, with considerable effort, Stephens brings him UP… …AROUND… …AND… …DOWN! *whump* But David Cross has enough presence of mind to land on one knee, and before the startled Stephens can react he powers up and bridges backwards, throwing the smaller Englishman back over his head with a back bodydrop! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “David Cross is still in this match,” Francis yells, “and he’s not conceding defeat yet! Michael Stephens is going to have to do more than that to get this win!” Indeed Cross seems to have found a second wind and the big man is getting fired up, pumping his arms a couple of times as the Chinese fans, who have been see-sawing between the two men all match, start to get behind him! Cross goes to the corner opposite to where Michael Stephens is now starting to get back to his feet, slaps his thigh a couple of times again, then charges forwards… …Michael Stephens turns around, hearing his enemy approaching… …and David Cross catches him flush in the face with a devastating Yakuza Kick! *CRUNCH!* “He got him!” Mak yells, “this could be a real upset!” Cross’s momentum takes him into the turnbuckles on the other side of the ring, but he instantly pushes himself off and dives on top of the prone straight-edger before hooking the leg as Brian Warner dives to make the count… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! “WHAT!?” Suicide King screams in disbelief… …NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “JUST!” Francis bawls back, “Michael Stephens just got his shoulder up in time, but dear God King, that was closer to a three-count than your latest hooker is to being illegal!” “As long as you call me God-King, you can spread what slander you like!” the Gambling Man shoots back. David Cross, needless to say, is rather unimpressed. “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” However, the big man swallows his disappointment and hauls Michael Stephens up, then bends his knees to take the Englishman onto his shoulders into a Fireman’s carry. Unwilling to make any more mistakes, the former Fallen Angel walks to the middle of the ring with his black-haired burden, then sets himself… “If he hits the Cross To Bear then this match is done,” Francis states clinically, “there’s no way Stephens is getting up from that.” Michael Stephens appears to agree, because just before Cross can throw him off his shoulders and hoist him up for the devastating brainbuster he starts firing desperation knees into the side of Cross’s head! The first couple just snap the big man’s head to one side, but as knee after knee hits home David’s eyes start to glaze and he begins to wobble, then drops to one knee. Mike seizes his chance and slithers off to the front of his opponent, then grabs a front facelock. David Cross rises back to both feet but Stephens holds on for the one second necessary to raise his right arm in the air and then bring it down in a sweeping motion across the back of Cross’s neck, twisting and sitting out as he does so to take his opponent down with an elbow-drive bulldog! *BANG!* “Michael Stephens calls that ‘Unfinished Business’,” Mak Francis says, “but it could be badly-named, because it could have finished things here tonight!” Stephens certainly hopes so, and he rolls the suddenly-limp Cross over onto his back… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Goddamn, will one of you just lose already!?” King splutters, perhaps needing a bathroom break. “You’ve got to hand it to these two men,” Francis says, “they’re showing real spirit and resilience here tonight.” Michael Stephens is not a happy man. For a brief second there is a flash of the old Toxxic as he gets to his feet and snarls something uncomplimentary at Brian Warner; the referee defiantly brandishes two fingers to indicate the number of counts he made, and Stephens returns the favour by flipping a black-nailed V-sign at the official to show him what he thinks of his numerical abilities. However, after a couple of deep breaths the man from Nottingham has calmed enough to start picking David Cross up off the canvas and hopefully find something that will win this match. Cross doesn’t come up easily, the last blow to the face seemingly disorientating him quite badly, but Stephens finally manages to get him onto his feet. The straight-edger then grabs Cross’s wrist and goes to Irish whip his opponent into the ropes, but David reverses the momentum and sends Mike in instead. The Englishman rebounds off the cables and hurtles back towards Cross, who raises one foot to try and take his head again; Stephens ducks under that and heads for the far ropes, picking up possibly even more speed as he does so, well aware that hitting hard and fast is the best tactic. Cross pivots on the spot… …Stephens hurtles back at him… …and David Cross takes him up and over with a spinning powerslam that nearly breaks the sound barrier! *WHAM!!* “Cover! Cover!” Mak yells as a half-dazed Cross slumps into a lateral press, “he’s got him!” ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Stephens kicks out! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” David Cross doesn’t move for a couple of seconds; he just lies there with Michael Stephens’ body twisted beneath him, the Englishman having got his shoulder up off the mat but currently lacking the air to manage anything more. However after a couple of deep breaths David Cross pushes himself up, then grabs Stephens and begins to peel the straight-edger off the canvas. Mike comes up slowly, and David Cross knows that now he finally has his opponent where he wants him. Accordingly he reaches out with both hands and clamps them around Stephens’ neck, ready for the double-choke sit-out powerbomb known as the Infinite Justice… …and Stephens boots him in the gut! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Not only that, but as Cross doubles over Stephens cinches a double-underhook in, then leaves his feet to apply a bodyscissors with his legs! “What the hell…?” King asks in confusion. “This, Brian, is the RTF II,” Mak Francis says, checking his notes, “I was speaking with Michael Stephens the other day and he told me that he feels the original Repeat To Fade is too tricky to apply - this is the updated version!” David Cross is struggling to remain upright, well aware that if he slumps forward to the mat he’ll effectively DDT himself. However, the double-underhook choke that Stephens has applied is limiting his air, limiting the flow of blood to his brain and really limiting his options. Cross knows that his only chance is to get to the ropes, but it’s so hard to concentrate when the world is going fuzzy… …he takes one step… …drops to one knee… …and Brian Warner, leaning down to check on him, hears something that no-one else can! *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match by submission,” Funyon booms as ‘Rookie’ booms out over Tiananmen Square, “MIIIIIIIICHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” Stephens releases his grip as soon as he hears the bell and flops to the mat, where he sucks in air. Beside him, David Cross slumps into a sitting position where he holds his head and tries to get Tiananmen Square to stop spinning. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The chants are rising in the evening air again as Brian Warner reaches down to raise Michael Stephens’ right arm in victory. The English straight-edger gets unsteadily back to his feet and makes his way to the nearest turnbuckle, where he climbs to the second rope and wearily throws his arms wide, palms flat, for the fans to get one last photo opportunity. Then he carefully climbs back down and, pausing briefly to slap David Cross on the back, rolls under the ropes and starts to head towards the back. “Fans, we saw a great effort here from both men,” Mak Francis says, “but in the end only one could come out the winner. I think it’s safe to say that Michael Stephens is physically ready to face Landon Maddix at 13th Hour, he’s showing no signs of ring rust… but will he be mentally ready to face a man who’s broken necks in his name, slept with and beaten on his sister, and blackmailed him into the match? Don’t go away, we’ve got more action after the break!” FADE OUT

Claka~taka!- Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka!-Claka~taka! “What can we say, ladies and gentlemen…not much, since hardly any of you people know English!” The voice of the Suicide King can be heard over the sound of a tank pulling into the square as SWF Lockdown returns from commercial, the Gambling Man himself standing up at the booth, turning his attention to the fans behind him. They cheer. “Calm down, King, we got too much to get through tonight.” From beside him, Mak’s chair squeaks and he spins himself side-to-side, looking out over the Square and down at the three tanks that have positioned themselves together at the edge of the area. Six men stand, two on one tank, two on another, Funyon and referee Mathew Kivell standing in the ring in the center. “女士们和先生们, 以下比赛预定在一个秋天和是议院规则比赛!!!!” “What the (bleep)?” “It looks like Funyon ate some babelfish at lunch today.” Mak replies as the crowd around the Square erupts. “首先介绍到我左边, 介入在一联合的三百九十五磅... "独特的青年时期" ZYOOOOON 和"神的风" AKIIIIIRA KAIBAAAAAATSU!" The team of Akira and Zyon both raise their hands to acknowledge the fact that they heard their names and not much else. It appears that Akira mouths “present”, which prompts a look from his partner before Funyon continues… “并且对我的右边, 他们的对手, 介入在一联合的五百和二十五磅... 痛苦的"The 国王" BRUCE BLAAAANK 和 BLOOOOOODSHED.... THE DEAD PRECEDENTS!!” “The what?” “That was in English, King” “But…the what now?” King responds as Funyon takes his time to climb from the ring and down a small ladder on the back of the center tank while they’re still parked. Both Zyon and Akira look over to their opponents and watch as Bloodshed leaps from their team take over the top rope and hits the ring, bouncing a bit, a smile beaming on his face. “Bloodshed in the ring to start the match now, let’s see…it seems Akira is coming in now for the other side.” Mak calls and Akira hits the ring, calling for referee Kivell to ring the bell. Kivell motions off into the distance, the camera catching a large man swinging a giant club into a huge gong… *GOOOOOOONG!* “And the match, I assume, is under-what the hell?” King says as Akira bursts forward with tremendous speed, heading at Bloodshed like a divine shot in the dark, only for Bloodshed to quickly lean his right hand back over the ropes, tagging in his partner and flipping his body over to the other tank once more just as all the tanks begin to move, shaking the five men slightly. Akira hits the brakes, stepping back slightly as Bruce Blank makes his move to step as gingerly as he can from one tank to the other and then through the ropes and into the ring and then stares down at his much smaller opponent. “Akira had it in his head that he could match the maniacal Bloodshed toe-to-toe, but we all know from the past that Bruce has never been the easiest man for Akira to take out.” Francis comments as Bruce stands tall in the ring, motioning for Akira to give it his best shot, the former Ultraviolent champion inching closer to his opponent. Across the ring, Zyon begins to motion for a pow-wow, yelling over the sounds of the moving tanks. Akira turns his attention to his partner… *SMACK!* …and catches a right hand to the back of his head! “Zyon just got his partner’s head nearly dented in, there! That’s not smart tag team wrestling at all!” “That idiot shouldn’t have taken his eye off his opponent! He deserved it!” King laughs as Akira stumbles to keep on his feet as the monster Blank follows him, reaching out his hand and clutching onto the back of the Divine Wind’s mask, pulling him away from the ropes and back to his own corner, throwing him into the turnbuckle with brutal authority! “And as Bruce Blank takes control early on, we witness one big problem with this kind of match…” Mak remarks as the tanks turn a corner, the two outside tanks separating from the center, leaving the two men in the ring along and away from their partner as they all make the turn and then form back together as Akira catches a series of hard knees to his chest. As Akira slumps in the corner, Bruce backs up a few feet and rushes in as quick as his southern feet can muster, slamming himself into Kaibatsu with his own kind of force, the collision dropping the smaller wrestler to the canvas. “My god! Akira is a long way from home base and he might have just got those numbers imprinted onto his mask.” “Talk about leaving a mark, eh, Mak?” King motions to the steel carriage of his partner as a steady camera on the Bloodshed-occupied tank shows Blank smiling wide, his yellow teeth doing more to make fans sick than upset as Akira is dragged to his feet and pulled to the center of the ring. With a loud and completely American grunt-slash-burp, Bruce turns his body and whips Akira into the ropes. The former Cruiserweight champion slingshoots off them and coming back with a burst of speed! BIG BOOT! NOOO! “Akira with a beautiful slide underneath the giant foot of Blank, he’s gotta turn arou—OOH!” Mak runs through the action as Akira slides out of harm’s way and then pops to his feet, his body spinning like a top, his right leg catching the back of the big man’s right knee! Blank stumbles, his balance thrown off as he turns to face Akira… *SMACK!* “…and a beautiful dropkick to the chest of Bruce Blank!” Blank falls back into the ropes but instantly bounces off and before Akira can react he’s flipped inside out and backwards by a huge lariat from Blank! “OOOOOOO!” The crowd around the Square can be heard loud and clear as Zyon begins reaching for his partner, only for the tanks to begin another turn as Akira begins to roll, separating himself from his partner while Bruce moves to his corner, keeping his eye on both his partner and his opponent’s movement as the tanks make the turn and begin to come back toward each other. “Look at Bruce Blank over there, he looks like he wants a beer.” Calls the Suicide King as Blank reaches out just as Bloodshed comes back into range, the self-proclaimed ‘bloody prophet’ slapping the outstretched hand and climbing into the ring, replacing his larger partner as Akira crawls toward his corner. “Had Akira even been able to make it to his corner seconds ago, he would have found nothing but open air waiting for him thanks to the turns these tanks have to make or risk plowing through a crowd of spectators” “No loss, probably why Bruce just let him lie there” King mutters as Akira’s quest for a tag is stopped short, the fresh Bloodshed catching him by the leg and dragging him back across the ring, doing his best to cut the two men off from each other and keep the Divine Wind trapped. Akira rolls his body mid-way through the pull and sends his left leg kicking out, catching Bloodshed in the wrist and causing him to break the hold. Kivell stays close on the two as Akira works to get to his feet, shaking off a forearm to his back and catching Bloodshed by the arm as turns, whipping him across the ring… REVERSED!! NOO! REVERSED AGAIN!! Bloodshed’s body strikes his opponent’s corner hard, his body bouncing off as Akira runs in, looking to take his opponent… *SMACK!* …and Bloodshed goes down, his body unable to get out of the way of the quicker Akira and the spinning leg lariat putting him down on the canvas as Akira hits his corner, finally able to tag in his partner mid air before his momentum propels him forward into the turnbuckles and then back, his body falling back to the canvas blindly “GUUUUUH!” Zyon leaps over the top rope and into the ring as Akira crashes down on top of Bloodshed. Bloodshed’s partner looks on from across the ring as the Unique Youth, the freshest in the fight, pulls his opponent up and throws him back into the corner, sending a barrage of kicks into Bloodshed’s stomach and chest as Akira exits the ring, crosses the small gap between the two tanks and sits down on the platform to rest as Zyon takes over. “Akira wasn’t expecting to face the giant so early, and it looks to have taken a bit out of him” Mak calls as Akira shakes off the last few minutes while Bruce watches on from across the ring, wanting nothing more than to jump into the fray, a demented smile still on his face even with Bloodshed currently on the defensive. “Bruce Blank isn’t worried, look at him. He knows that psychopath can take care of things” King remarks as Zyon sends one last kick into Bloodshed’s stomach, dropping him down into the corner. With his hands gripping the top rope, Zyon shoots himself into the air and swings his body back down like a pendulum, his feet burying themselves into Bloodshed’s chest! “Zyon with that unique dropkick, and he has to wonder what he is doing riding on the back of that tank after defeating Landon Maddix only a few days ago, especially with his partner being a man he’s faced off against in the past!” “This is House Rules, Francis! They do not care what Zyon’s accomplished this week, last week, or any week. Hell, Bloodshed’s beaten Landon Maddix a few times too, and so has Bruce! I don’t see you pointing any of that out!” King snaps back as Zyon drags Bloodshed by his feet from the corner, positioning him where he likes and going back toward the ropes, springboarding off the middle of the top rope and spinning his body with perfect agility, his figure rolling through the sky and crashing down onto Bloodshed’s body just before he can move himself out of the way! “COVER!” ONE! TWO! TH-NOOOOO!! Bloodshed’s shoulder shoots off the mat just in time, and Zyon’s expression shows nothing but determination as he drags Bloodshed back up to his feet. Bloodshed tries to fight out, swinging his arms wildly before he finds himself trapped, the Unique Youth lifting him into the air and spinning him upside down, snapping him quickly to the canvas with a slam before going back to the ropes, ricocheting off and sliding himself down against the mat, his feet driving themselves into Bloodshed’s head, sending him rolling away. Kip Up! “Zyon is really showing his agility, but Bloodshed doesn’t seem to be staying down for long!” Mak yells as the camera catches the face of the former Apostle, his teeth showing from behind his hair in his sly trademark grin, his right hand resting on his neck as he stands to meet the incoming Zyon head on once more! In an instant Bloodshed is back down, his right hand stretching out from an armdrag… NOOO! Zyon quickly leaps, diving up and over the top of Bloodshed, somersaulting through the air and landing close to his opponent’s corner only to be greeted by a large meaty fist swinging out straight toward him! Reacting quickly, Zyon ducks out of the way and then pops back up, catching the big man with a kick to the chest that sends him recoiling a bit as the tanks hit another turn, separating the two as Kivell intervenes, telling him to keep his eyes on the match… *SMACK!* …only for his eyes to see nothing but the turnbuckle as Bloodshed uses the distraction to attack, slamming Zyon face-first into the corner. Akira can be heard yelling from his own tank about the cheating, but Kivell shakes it off as Bloodshed wraps his hands around Zyon’s waist and lifts him up for a German suplex… OOOMPH!! “YAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MY GOD! Bloodshed is down after Zyon kicked himself out of the german suplex, using the turnbuckles to float out of the hold and over, the escape sending Bloodshed crashing down to the mat! ANOTHER COVER!” ONE! TWO! THR-NOOOOO! Bloodshed breaks the count at the last moment, his foot instinctively going for the bottom rope. Zyon again takes no time to argue, instead making sure to pull Bloodshed away from the corner as the tanks move back together again, keeping his opponent as far away from his monster partner as he can. “Zyon is taking his shots when he can and is doing his best to keep Bruce Blank out of this match long enough to keep Bloodshed down, but it takes a lot more than a few simple kicks and slams to put that guy down for the three count!” “He put Thugg through A CAR!” King exclaims, the sound of the Gambling Man’s hand slapping his own forehead can be heard slightly as Zyon turns to check on his own partner, who is back up on his feet and watching the action, his hand stretching out a bit for the tag. Zyon’s mouth can be seen moving toward his partner and his head shaking in an emphatic “not yet” type of way as the Unique Youth pulls Bloodshed back up and lifts him off his feet with a suplex, holding him in the air for as long as he can before dropping him down into a backbreaker… *CRACK!* “DID YOU HEAR THAT!” Mak Francis can be heard exclaiming as Zyon shifts Bloodshed’s weight in the air, bringing the back of his opponent’s head and neck down onto his knee. Even Bruce can be seen wincing slightly in the background and reaching his hand out for a tag as Bloodshed rolls to his stomach, holding the back of his head in pain. Zyon smiles, sending a flurry of boots toward the same spot, kicking Bloodshed’s hands away and concentrating on the neck as Bloodshed rolls toward the ropes. “NO! DON’T!” Bruce Blank screams, as do both announcers, as Bloodshed stops a mere two feet from the edge of the apron and the fall to the street that would have been accompanied it. Instinctively he reaches for the ropes and crawls to his knees as Zyon reaches him, his eyes can be seen darting out to the road below quickly before he is pulled up and back across the ring. “It looks like Zyon is going for a tag now.” Mak calls as Zyon reaches out with his hand, turning his attention to his partner long enough for Bloodshed to slip himself out from Zyon’s grip and try to head back to his own corner for his own tag, Bruce’s arm extending as Zyon realizes the escape, quickly tagging Akira and turning back to Bloodshed, trying to catch up… *SMACK!* “SUPERKICK!” King yells as Zyon’s head nearly flies from his body, the foot of Bloodshed catching him square in the jaw as he runs forward while Akira bounds over the top rope. Kivell turns his attention to Zyon as Bloodshed slaps Bruce’s hand for a tag, the big man stepping through the ropes and moving himself between Akira and Bloodshed. “Uh oh…” Mak says as Akira once again slams on the brakes, coming up short just as Bruce’s hand swings out, the Divine Wind ducking out of the way and spinning backwards as Kivell turns back to the action and immediately calls for Bruce to leave the ring! “There was a tag! What the hell is Kivell doing?” “He never saw the tag, King.” Mak replies as Bruce tries to argue, but as Kivell warns of disqualification, finally Bruce just shrugs and turns back to the ropes, only to see his tank begin to roll away from him! “What the hell?” King asks as the camera turns, noticing a large crowd of tourists seemingly unaware of the giant tanks heading toward them, the group splitting up to avoid the masses, leaving all four men stuck in the center ring! Kivell continues to yell for Blank to leave, and even under protest, all Bruce can do is climb through the ropes and balance himself on the apron, his body not exactly built to be standing on such a narrow edge as Kivell checks on Bloodshed. The ‘psychotic one’ screams for Kivell to get away from him as he turns himself back to the ring, only to catch Akira’s upper arm in the chin! “Beautiful European Uppercut there, and now an Irish whip sends Bloodshed across the ring!” Mak makes the call as Bloodshed trips over the downed Zyon, his foot catching the Unique Youth’s head and sending him down to the mat. “That’s not the kind of double-team move Zyon was looking for, I think” King laughs as Bruce again takes a swing at Akira from the apron, only for the smaller superstar to duck once more and spring back up, throwing another hard uppercut – this time right to the face of the big man! “NOOOOOO!!” The crowd, the announcers, even Kivell can be heard yelling as Bruce begins to fall backwards, losing his balance and falling… …ONTO THE PLATFORM OF HIS TANK! “THANK TODD!” King sings the praises of the almighty as Bruce’s body lands on the edge of the corner tank, his ankles and feet hanging over the edge as Akira turns back to Bloodshed, the referee working to get Zyon onto his own platform as the two superstars meet in the middle of the ring with a tie-up! Bruce manages to drag himself out of harms way and onto the center of the platform as the three tanks are once again side by side going down the straight part of their route. Kivell uses the opportunity to make Zyon leave the ring as well hoping to restore some order to the match. Akira an Bloodshed lock up and quickly find themselves in the corner nearest to Bruce Blank as the tanks get close once more. A quick slap on the shoulder later and the King of Pain is now LEGALLY allowed to enter the ring. “Blind tag! I don’t think Akira saw it!” King says with vicious glee as Bruce strikes the Divine Wind across the back with a clubbering double axe handle that knocks the Japanese superstar down. Then Bloodshed quickly pulls Akira’s right leg up into a half Boston Crab hold and pulls the knee pad down to expose the knee. *BAM!* Bruce’s cowboy boot connects with the exposed knee as Akira is unable to do anything to protect himself. The big man grabs Akira by the wrist and then pulls the hurting, limping Akira back to his feet while Bloodshed exists the ring before the referee can reach a 5 count. Bruce takes a step closer to Akira They get closer and then *BOOOOOOM!!* Big boot to the face followed by a quick cover from Bruce Blank ONE!! “That’s how he won it last week!” Mak realizes TWO!! “And this week!” King states with confidence TH-KICKOUT!! “. . . This week it won’t do it” King elaborates, trying to cover up for himself. Blank doesn’t shout at the referee, he doesn’t curse or threaten him instead he just stands back up, pulls Akira up by the mask and then locks him in a suplex position. The much lighter Divine Wind is easily hoisted up in the air where Bruce pauses the move, holding Akira straight upside down seemingly without effort. Five seconds pass Then ten seconds without Bruce moving an inch, just holding Akira in place letting the blood rush to his head as Bruce just holds him there. The tanks come to another corner and turn the corner once more, both Zyon and Bloodshed are temporarily moved out of reach while the tank with the ring tries to turn as carefully as possible. But apparently not carefully enough for Bruce who seems to loose his footing from the shift in momentum and has to take a sideways step to try and regain his balance. “He can’t hold him up!” Mak yells out as Akira wiggles, adding to the shift in momentum and comes crashing down on top of Bruce forcing the big man to the ground into a pinning predicament ONE!! “Oh come on not like this!” King yells out TWO!! “Why not like this? These guys could be the next challengers for the tag-team titels” Mak counters TH-KICKOUT!! Bruce kicks out with so much force that he throws Akira off him, fortunately the Divine Wind manages to land on his feet ready to strike again. And strike again he does as he drop kicks a seated Bruce Blank right in the back of the head, snapping the big man forward from the impact. Once the tanks are back together again we see Bloodshed crawl off the platform and down to where the driver is located, talking to him about something. “Now this is why Zyon and Akira will win, Bloodshed isn’t focused on the match” Mak points out as Bloodshed reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. The Apostle shakes his head, then he makes a couple of turning gestures to explain something to the driver before sliding what looks like a 20 dollar bill through the slit in the tank. “I love this country, 20 bucks is like a month’s salary to these guys – it’s so easy to bribe people” King states sounding like that is a good thing. Bloodshed has climbed back up on the platform just as Akira flips across Bruce’s back and then arm drags the big man half way across the corner INTO BLOODSHED’S CORNER!! *SLAP!* “What a mistake! What a rookie mistake by Akira” Mak laments as the momentum definitely changes with the simple hand to hand touch. But instead of leaping into the ring Bloodshed stomps on the platform, apparently signaling the driver to turn the gun turret on the tank. “HOLY COW!!” King yells out as the cannon swivels and then points straight into the ring, the end of it raised up higher than the top rope like Bloodshed apparently requested. Akira stands there looking stunned at the gun barrel while Bloodshed nimbly runs up the metal pipe and then leaps off the tip of it for a 180 Swanton drop that takes Akira to the ground before he can react. “Now we know what he paid for, I’d like to know why he is running around with money in his pocket during a wrestling match” Mak asks in that delightfully stupid way that he’s acquired since putting on the headset. The modified “Rainbow in the Dark” has pushed both Bloodshed and Akira into the ropes which means that even though Bloodshed is covering Akira there is no count. Matt Kivell motions and gesticulates to the driver of the Blank/Bloodshed tank to get the damn gun out of the ring so that the match can continue. The moment the tank driver complies with the instructions Bloodshed stands up, unfortunately he stands up straight in the path of the moving cannon and is. . . well you guessed it. *BONK!!* “Oh man that could have cracked his skull wide open” King says as Bloodshed crumples to the ground from being struck over the back of the head with the moving gun barrel. With Bloodshed down on the canvas Akira leaps across the ring and tags Zyon’s outstretched hand, giving the more rested of the two a chance to finish it off. Instead of stepping through the ropes Zyon moves to the middle of the apron and puts both hands on the top rope, then Akira grabs the ropes from his side and assists Zyon in springboarding over the top giving him the distance he needs to make it far enough across the ring to hit Bloodshed who’s still down. “Bruce is finally showing us that he has something upstairs” Mak comments as the big man reaches through the ropes and yanks Bloodshed out of harms way causing Zyon to come crashing down hard, hitting nothing but canvas instead of his intended victim. “He’s got plenty upstairs Mak, it’s just such disturbing stuff that none of us wants to know what it is” the Suicide King replies as they watch Akira reluctantly step out of the ring and onto the platform on the other tank while his partner is in a world of pain. The sudden movement on Bloodshed’s part caused Zyon to come down on his shoulder in an awkward angle and the Unique Youth is paying the price at the moment as he’s on the canvas clutching his left arm and shoulder while Bloodshed is given a moment to get back to his feet and get his bearings straight after being knocked over the head. Bruce holds up a hand in case Bloodshed wants to tag out but it seems that the Apostle has other ideas as he passes the opportunity by. “Oh this is perfect! There is no way Zyon can know what’s coming next” King says with an obvious smirk as Bloodshed sneaks up behind the kneeling Zyon who’s still face down clutching his shoulder. Then with the swiftness and grace of a very tiny Chinese gymnast Bloodshed hooks his arms under Zyon’s and tries to lock them behind the Unique Youth’s head. “The Panic Attack?? Oh man if he bridges over then Zyon is dead, he’s toast!” Mak yells out, he can do nothing else except sit there and watch as Zyon tries to fight the Full Nelson off with one arm but quickly succumbs to it as Bloodshed manages to lock both hands behind Zyon’s neck. A quick flip later and Zyon is locked in the Panic Attack as Bloodshed bridges out the Full Nelson Cattle Mutilation. Akira starts to frantically pace back and forth on his tank, worried that Zyon might give up, wishing desperately to tag in and take over. After a moment he stops pacing and starts to plead with Zyon to hang in there, not prepared for this match to be over. “What in Sam Hill’s underwear is THAT!” Mak says as he points to a lone figure on a tiny red scooter entering the square, trying to catch up with the three tanks as they go round and round Tiananmen square without end in sight. “You mean WHO is that and I think that you need glasses if you can’t see who it is” The Suicide King says mockingly. If you had not already guessed it’s Wayne Blank on the tiny red scooter, trying his best to drive stealthily up behind the tank Akira is on, his stealth is aided by the fact that the three tanks are incredibly noisy so Akira doesn’t notice the annoying whine from the scooter engine. Meanwhile in the ring Zyon is screaming in pain from Bloodshed attempting to tear his arms out of their sockets but he’s not giving up yet, he’s fighting it with all he’s got trying to alleviate the pain somehow. “AKIRA WATCH OUT!!” Mak bellows without realizing that Akira Kaibatsu is too far away from them to hear Mak’s warnings. But it turns out that Wayne isn’t there to attack Akira from behind, even though Wayne has caught up with the tank and leapt from the scooter and onto the tank it doesn’t look like his target is Akira up on the platform. “You know he could just be fascinated with tanks, maybe he wants to look at it up close? It’s just like you to always assume the worst Francis!” King says in an attempt to distract Mak’s attention from the fact that Wayne has pulled out some sort of wrench and is opening the rear hatch on the tank. “Oh please!” is all that Mak can think of when he sees Wayne Blank adeptly slip inside the tank. Then his attention is turned back towards the ring where the referee keeps asking Zyon if he gives up and Zyon keeps screaming. . . just screaming, not yes, not no just screaming in pain. Just as it looks like the Unique Youth is ready to give in the tanks have to turn another corner and the shaking and turning velocity throws Bloodshed’s bridge out off, causing him to lose balance and forcing him to release the hold much to the delight of the crowd. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! Once the turn is complete Bruce’s tank quickly pulls up next to the tank with the ring but Akira’s tank seems to be going off in a totally different direction swerving left and right almost as if someone didn’t know exactly what they were doing. When Bloodshed sees Akira’s tank off in the distance his sadistic grin turns even wider before turning back towards Zyon. “RIGHT IN THE MUSH!” Mak yells out in surprise as Zyon raises a foot and kicks Bloodshed as the Apostle bends over to attack him once more. Zyon tries to get back to his feet but he can’t put any weight on his arms and instead stumbles forward trying to crawl towards his corner while Bloodshed checks to see if his nose is still where it is supposed to be. When he turns around and sees Zyon looking for a tag he can’t help but laugh and just stands there, waiting for a moment until it dawns on Zyon what’s going on. “Man those Chinese soldiers huh? You just can’t trust them can you?” King quips, trying to play it off as an accident and not a deliberate plot from Bruce & Bloodshed that Akira Kaibatsu is now half way across the square, holding on to the platform for dear life as the tank swerves left and right. Zyon finally manages to pull himself to his feet by leaning against the turnbuckles in his home corner and then turns to tag in Akira – only to find no Akira, no tank, no hope of a tag. With Zyon in shock Bruce sneaks into the ring where he gives some sort of signal to Bloodshed before rushing the Unique Youth from behind. “Did you see that? These guys have something up their sleeves!” A suspicious and paranoid Mak deducts as Bruce is only a foot or so away from the Unique Youth with his hands raised over his head poised for a double axe handle blow. Zyon must either have eyes in the back of his head or he caught a sideways glimpse of the 295 pound monster because he manages to duck down as Bruce rushes him, avoiding the crushing blow Bruce was about to deal him. “WHOA!!” “HOLY SHIT!!” Bruce has hit the ropes with more momentum than he realized and is flipped half way over the top rope, then he’s flipped all the way over the top as Zyon in a sign of sheer desperation drop kicks the big man in the back sending him OVER the top rope and OFF the front of the tank. “BRUCE IS DEAD!!” Mak categorically states as Bruce falls to the ground right in front of the tank, a move that causes the collective crowd to scream in horror and shocks Zyon so much that he totally loses focus on the match. Not being one for such sentimental nonsense like caring if your tag-team partner is dead or alive Bloodshed takes advantage of Zyon’s distracted state and hooks the Full Nelson once more. “One Panic Attack coming up! I guess Zyon didn’t take his Paxil” King comments as Bloodshed launches his opponent up and over his head, trying to flip him over straight into the Panic Attack but is only able to flip him half way so that he brings Zyon down more on his neck than his shoulders *CRACK!!* To Bloodshed’s credit he still holds on to the Unique Youth and bridges into a pinning position after folding Zyon together like a cheap suit. Matt Kivell forgets about Bruce for a second and instinctively begins to count the pin fall. ONE!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! *GOOOOOOOOOOOOONG!!* “Bloodshed wins the match! But what happened to Bruce?” King questions as the victory could very well be overshadowed by a very tragic event, fortunately for Bruce, Bloodshed, the SWF, the people in the square, the tank driver and everyone watching at home there is no bloodbath, no squashed King of Pain. Bruce Blank managed to land on the ground between the tracks and the tank had enough clearance to drive over him without any harm, other than the harm from falling off a tank to the pavement naturally “Oh thank god! The last thing we need is someone getting run over by a tank” Mak says as he breathes a sigh of relief, right now he doesn’t even care that Bloodshed and Bruce won he’s just glad that no one got serious hurt. Funyon grabs the microphone to inform everyone of the outcome of the match in picture perfect Chinese并且对我的右边, 他们的对手, 介入在一联合的五百和二十五磅... THE DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD PREEEEEEEEECEDENTS!!” There are no celebrations in Tiananmen square today, the people wanted to see that about as much as they wanted to see a 3 armed baby being born, they wanted to see Bruce & Bloodshed win about as much as they wanted to see a tank come straight at them. . . A TANK COME STRAIGHT AT THEM!! The Suicide King leaps up from his chair and bolts as they realize that the tank with Akira Kaibatsu on top is coming straight for them, apparently totally out of Wayne Blank’s control as it plows up the steps towards the palace where the SWF Broadcast crew is located. Mak is less fortunate as he isn’t able to “bolt” anywhere these days, demonstrated by him desperately fiddling with the joystick on his wheelchair. Claka~taka!- Claka~taka!-Claka~taka! Akira desperately leaps off the tank just seconds before it hits the ground and is caught by the masses as they’ve moved out of the way of the tank. Then the tank strikes the side of the palace with a loud *CRASH!!* And comes to a halt shortly afterwards in the dust and debris of the wall that it crashed through, probably because Wayne finally found out how to turn the engine off. Fortunately for both the Suicide King and Mak Francis the upper level that they’re broadcasting from is okay (for now) but they’ll probably have to find somewhere else for the commentator’s tables for the rest of the show. The Suicide King sums the situation up in one short sentence before Lockdown goes to a commercial break. “I wonder if Communists believe in insurance” *Fade to commercials*