chirs3

Are we allowed to wish a secret agent Happy Birthday? I don't want to blow his cover or anything...

Francis: “It is now time for our main event, and it is only appropriate that these two men compete in this match. The winner of this contest will be the last International Champion and move on the World Title unification match at Ground Zero.” King: “Fitting indeed. When the title was established back in 2005, it was these two men who met in the finals. Dangerous, then the final Intercontinental Television Champion, defeated Hawke, then the final United States Junior League Title.” Francis: “But while Dangerous was the first International Champion, it was Jay Hawke’s monster nine month title reign that brought credibility to the championship.” King: “Hawke’s reign remains unmatched, and it is likely to permanently remain unmatched. But it shows that both of these men know all about this International Championship, and they know all about championship unification matches.” Francis: “These two men have met a number of times over this very championship. Tonight, one of these men will be the last one to officially hold that belt. But the time for talking is over. With that, let’s go to Funyon for the introductions.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the main event of the evening. It is scheduled for one fall to a finish, and it is for the SWF International Championship!” “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” The cheers quickly turn to boos as Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” comes over the PA. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” See? Anyway, the lights dim, and a purple spotlight illuminates the aisle as Jay Hawke, regally dressed in his famous purple sequined robe, casually makes his way to the ring as the crowd begins their familiar chant: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” The longest-reigning International Champion ever ignores the jeers from the Irish fans, as they’ve probably had too much to drink to even realize that they’re booing a bonafide superstar. As Hawke walks up the steps and onto the apron, he gives a sly little smirk before stepping into the ring. As he removes his robe, the camera cuts to a shot of the Smarktron showing a lit stick of dynamite. As the dynamite explodes, the “Mission Impossible” theme plays as we see brief clips of the opponent in action before we cut to see Johnny Dangerous making his way to the ring, slapping fans with hands as he continues toward the ring. As he enters the ring, the lights come back up, and Funyon continues. Funyon: “Introducing first, from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … the longest-reigning International Champion in SWF history … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Funyon: “And his opponent, hailing out of Las Vegas, Nevada … weighing in at 225 pounds … he was the first-ever International Champion … ‘The Barracuda’ … JOHNNNNNNNNNNNNNY DANGEROUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!” “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Referee Nick Soapdish motions both champions to the center of the ring. They approach the center of the ring, with Jay Hawke taking his championship belt off on the way. The referee stands between them as Funyon holds the microphone so we can hear the instructions. Soapdish: “Gentlemen, this is it. One fall for both championships. There is no time limit. The match can end by pinfall, submission, disqualification, ten count outside of the ring, or if I deem you unable to continue the match. A new champion no matter how the decision is rendered. If I tell you to break, you must break by the count of five or I *will* disqualify you. I *will* enforce any and all automatic disqualifications. Are there any questions?” Dangerous: “I have one. Is he going to follow the rules tonight?” Hawke: “Just make sure he knows the rules, ref!” Soapdish: “That’s enough. Now let’s shake hands and come out wrestling at the bell.” Jay Hawke and Johnny Dangerous shake hands, but Hawke pulls Dangerous towards him, forcing a nose-to-nose face-off. Nick Soapdish immediately pushes between them to separate. Soapdish: “I don’t want any of that crap tonight! Get to your corners!” Both men release the handshake and return to their corners. The referee holds the beautiful title belt over his head to signify they’re both on the line, and then hands them to Funyon to put on the timekeeper’s table. Francis: “We nearly had some fireworks before the bell even rang right there!” King: “Well, not only is so much on the line here tonight, but these two have also been in the ring together before. There has never been any love lost between these two.” *DING DING DING!* Francis: “There’s the opening bell, and we are officially underway!” King: “And let’s reiterate it for everybody, Mak. No time limit, and there will be a new International Champion no matter how the fall is recorded. And we’re going to stick with it without commercial interruption until we have a champion and the challenger for the World Title.” The two champions lock up collar and elbow in the center of the ring. Johnny Dangerous gets a brief advantage and pushes Jay Hawke into the corner. Referee Nick Soapdish is immediately calling for the break: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! And we get a clean break. *clapclapclapclapclap* Francis: “And a clean break by Johnny Dangerous.” King: “It’s still very early in the contest, Mak, and Dangerous is not above getting in a cheap shot or two if it helps lead to victory.” Another lockup, and this time it’s Jay Hawke pushing Dangerous into the corner. The referee calls for another break: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! We get another clean break. Jay Hawke gives a quick bow as a surprised Johnny Dangerous nods his head in approval. *clapclapclapclapclap* King: “What’s with this sportsmanship garbage? SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!” Mak: “It’s still very early in the contest, King. Didn’t you just say that?” King: “Shut up.” Another collar-and-elbow tieup, and Johnny Dangerous quickly locks Jay Hawke into a side headlock. He takes “The Dean” to the mat with it, and his shoulders fall to the canvas: ONE! TWO! Jay Hawke lefts the right shoulder off the mat. “The Barracuda” tightens his grip on the side headlock. Hawke grabs a handful of tights and rolls Dangerous over onto his shoulders: ONE! TWO! Dangerous rolls the hold back over. Mak: “Two count, but Dangerous wasn’t really in any danger of being pinned there, King. All he had to do was release the hold and he was out of the pinning predicament.” King: “That’s true, but sometimes in the heat of the moment, you won’t even realize your shoulders are on the canvas. So in a move like that, all it takes is to be caught napping for a split second, and it’s all over.” Hawke might be caught napping here, as his shoulders fall to the mat again: ONE! TWO! Shoulder up. Hawke grabs the tights again and rolls Dangerous back over onto his shoulders: ONE! TWO! Nick Soapdish looks over and sees Hawke using the tights, so he stops the count. Ryder counts to force Hawke to let go of the tights: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Jay Hawke reluctantly lets go of the tights at the count of four, and Johnny Dangerous rolls back over into position. Hawke’s shoulders fall to the mat yet again: ONE! TWO! Shoulder up. Francis: “Johnny Dangerous continues to control his opponent with this side headlock, and you’ve got to think Hawke is going to be light-headed when this hold finally does get released.” King: “Probably, but the blood will rush back to Hawke’s head within a few seconds. At that point, you could be seeing a different type of match from what we’ve seen so far.” Knowing that Ryder’s onto him about the use of the tights, “The Dean” tries a new strategy. He begins to pull himself to his feet in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure. As soon as he gets to his feet, he picks Johnny Dangerous up and drops backwards, sending Dangerous crashing down with a hard back suplex. “The Barracuda” clutches the back of his head as Jay Hawke shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Hawke gets to his feet and drops a leg across the chest of the Barracuda, then goes for the cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. He quickly goes for another cover, hooking the right leg: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Hawke covers again, this time also hooking the other leg with his own leg: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Francis: “Three near falls in the matter of ten seconds, and you can see how important this championship is to both men.” King: “Even in the early stages of a match, all those kickouts are going to wear you down.” Francis: “And wearing down Dangerous seems to be Hawke’s strategy here, as he locks in a side headlock of his own.” Jay Hawke tightens his grip on the headlock, and Johnny Dangerous’ shoulders fall to the mat as his face begins turning blue: ONE! TWO! Shoulder up. Dangerous rolls over, trying to get to his feet. He is able to get himself to his knees, but Jay Hawke briefly lets go of the hold to punch Dangerous in the face. He then goes right back to the hold. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Francis: “A short right hand, and that’s the first cheap shot of the match there, King!” King: “Cheap shot? This is a title match, Mak! Quite honestly, this match should be no rules and come down to the first guy to kill his opponent!” Dangerous works his way to his feet and backs into the ropes. Nick Soapdish calls for the break: ONE! TWO! THREE! “The Barracuda” shoves Jay Hawke off and into the opposite end of ropes. Hawke bounces off and takes Johnny Dangerous with a shoulder block. Hawke runs off the ropes this time, and Dangerous ducks underneath, leapfrogs Hawke as he comes back, and takes Hawke down with an enzuigiri to the face when he comes back again. The cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Johnny Dangerous clamps Jay Hawke’s head in a vice-like front facelock. Mak: “A near fall, and then right back into a headlock.” King: “As much as I hate to say it, this is pretty good strategy. Time is not a factor, so take your time, wear your opponent down, and once you think he’s out of gas, put him away.” Jay Hawke maneuvers his way to his feet. He fires off a couple of punches to Johnny Dangerous’ ribs, then lifts him off his feet. He apparently wants to throw him off, but Dangerous kicks his legs and turns it into a DDT. “OHHHHHHHHHH!” Johnny Dangerous immediately floats into the cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Francis: “Every time one man gets any sort of high impact move in on his opponent, he immediately goes for the cover!” King: “Well, there might be no time limit, but you don’t get paid by the hour either.” Johnny Dangerous waits for Jay Hawke to reach his feet, then takes him down with a standing dropkick. The former secret agent quickly hops up onto the second turnbuckle, then leaps, landing with an elbow to Jay Hawke’s face. Another cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Dangerous quickly locks in a reverse chinlock in an attempt to further wear down the longest-reigning International champion of all time. Pete: “And it seems as if Johnny Dangerous is firmly in control right now.” King: “It seems that way, Pete, but we’ve seen Jay Hawke come back from early disadvantages before. There’s plenty of wrestling left in this one.” Jay Hawke gets to his feet and fires a couple of elbows into his opponent’s midsection to break the hold. Jay Hawke runs off the ropes, but his attempted lariat is thwarted by a dropkick that knocks Hawke down in a heap. Seeing an opportunity, the first ever International Champion heads to the top turnbuckle. But he’s underestimated the damage he’s done to Jay Hawke, as the Dean of Wrestling gets to his feet and climbs the turnbuckle after him. Hawke hits Dangerous with a couple of forearm smashes, then tries for a superplex. Dangerous blocks it and tries to counter, but he gets nothing out of it. Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by in the contest, five minutes.” Francis: “Both men jockeying for position here, and they’re in a dangerous spot up there on that top turnbuckle…” THUD! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” And Jay Hawke gets the best of the situation, lifting Dangerous up for a superplex but dropping him over the top rope. Dangerous’ face hits the ring apron, snapping his neck back. “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” King: “For once, I agree with the crowd. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fall quite like that before in my life!” Jay Hawke points down at the floor and screams “Count him out”, and the referee obliges: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! King: “This might be anticlimactic.” Francis: “Johnny Dangerous is beginning to move, but it might be too late.” FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! Johnny Dangerous pulls himself into the ring with the help of the bottom rope. Jay Hawke immediately comes over and stomps away at his opponent. Hawke lifts Dangerous to his feet and levels him with a forearm smash that knocks “The Barracuda” into the corner. An Irish whip attempt into the opposite corner is reversed, but as Dangerous charges in shoulder first, Hawke moves out of the way…. SMACK! …and Dangerous’ left shoulder smacks against the steel ringpost. Francis: “Oh my God! Did you hear the sound of flesh hitting steel?” King: “Can you say ‘turning point’, Mak? Because I think that’s what that was.” Jay Hawke seizes the opportunity, quickly pulling Johnny Dangerous into the center of the ring by the left arm and locking it into a Fujiwara armbar. Johnny Dangerous screams in pain as Hawke leans back to put more pressure on. Dangerous crawls toward the ropes, barely grabbing the bottom rope. Nick Soapdish tries to force the break: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Jay Hawke breaks the hold, but stomps on Dangerous’ arm in the process. Referee Soapdish warns Hawke to break clean, but Hawke drops an elbow across The Barracuda’s shoulder. Francis: “Cheap shot by Jay Hawke there!” King: “How was that a cheap shot? That could have cost him the title! That could have been an expensive shot!” Jay Hawke pulls Johnny Dangerous back to the center of the ring. He drops a knee to the shoulder, then another one to the back. Another knee to the back, and Hawke drives it into the back and pulls back as hard as he can on the secret agent’s chin and neck. Francis: “Look at Jay Hawke pulling back on the chin of Dangerous here!” King: “The last time I saw somebody bend like that, she got banned from the Gong Show for indecency!” Jay Hawke shifts his weight, and with it turns Dangerous’ body into a camel clutch. Johnny Dangerous’ eyes nearly roll into the back of his head as Hawke continues to apply the pressure. Francis: “Look at the look on the face of Johnny Dangerous. How much more of this pain can he possibly take?” King: “I don’t know, but if he doesn’t take the pain, he’s not going to be in the championship hunt for more than another three seconds or so!” Sensing he won’t get the submission just yet, Jay Hawke hooks his feet underneath the shoulders of Johnny Dangerous and floats forward, almost into a modified Victory roll: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Jay Hawke gets to his feet and knees Dangerous in the gut as Dangerous tries to get to his feet. Jay Hawke goes for a body slam, but Dangerous counters into a small package: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Both men quickly get to their feet, but Jay Hawke nearly decapitates the former secret agent with a lariat. The cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Jay Hawke doesn’t waste a second. He locks the Barracuda’s left arm into an overhand wristlock. He continues to hold it, placing Johnny’s arm onto the mat. Then he stands up and stomps on the elbow, driving the already bent wrist into the mat. Dangerous screams in agony as Jay Hawke locks in a hammerlock. Francis: “My God, King, he might have just broken Johnny’s arm there!” King: “I think that’s what he was trying to do!” Francis: “If that’s the case, this hammerlock might break it if that stomp to the elbow didn’t!” Maintaining a hold of the hammerlock, Jay Hawke picks up the Barracuda and body slams him onto the arm. Dangerous screams yet again as he rolls around on the mat, clutching the left arm. Hawke goes for the cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Jay Hawke pulls Dangerous to his feet. The Dean of Professional Wrestling locks in another hammerlock, then shoves Johnny shoulder-first into the turnbuckle. Dangerous staggers backwards, right into Jay Hawke’s German suplex: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Undaunted, Hawke brings his opponent to his feet and peppers the side of his head with a series of forearm smashes. He tries to whip Johnny into the ropes, but Johnny reverses it and catches an incoming Hawke underneath the chin with a clothesline. Francis: “A tremendous clothesline by Johnny Dangerous there, and that might be the turning point!” King: “Look at him favor the arm! Let’s see if his arm will allow him to get off a series of moves before assuming he’s making the comeback!” But Johnny Dangerous’ best weapon might be his feet, and he proves it with a series of martial arts kicks to The Dean as he stands up. A series of karate kicks to the ribs doubles Jay Hawke over, and Dangerous leaps up and catches Hawke in the back of the head with an enzuigiri. Hawke lands face first onto the mat. Dangerous keeps his left arm hanging by its side as he slowly rolls Hawke over with the good arm and covers: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Both men slowly get to their feet. Dangerous catches Jay Hawke with a series of palm strikes to the forehead, then executes a spinning heel kick that sends the Cleveland native down to the mat. He falls on top for the cover but is unable to use the left arm to hook the leg: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Francis: “Johnny Dangerous is doing everything in his power to put Jay Hawke away, but Hawke is still able to kick out!” King: “The key is the left arm! Jay Hawke has done so much work to that arm that everything Johnny Dangerous does puts it in even more pain, and that’s slowing him down enough to give Hawke a chance to rest!” Johnny Dangerous slowly makes his way to his feet. He runs off the ropes and attempts a clothesline, but Jay Hawke ducks underneath it and grabs the left arm, spinning it into a hammerlock. Funyon: “Ten minutes have gone by in the contest, ten minutes.” Dangerous instinctively throws a couple of elbows to break the hold, then … SMACK! …levels Jay Hawke with a backflip kick. The force of the kick backs Jay Hawke against the ropes. Dangerous senses an opening and charges, but Hawke sees him coming and backdrops him over the top rope… THUD! “OHHHHHHHHHHH!” …and Dangerous hits the floor hard and rolls to the guardrail. Jay Hawke quickly rolls to the center of the ring and screams “Count him out!” ONE! TWO! Francis: “Can you believe this, King?” THREE! Francis: “Jay Hawke seems content with winning the title by countout!” FOUR! King: “Hey, it counts! Why knock it?” FIVE! King: “Besides, Hawke already tried it earlier in the match, so are you really surprised?” SIX! SEVEN! Francis: “Dangerous is trying to get back into the ring, but it might be too late!” EIGHT! King: “It is too late! A new International champion!” NINE! Johnny Dangerous rolls back into the ring, but an alert Jay Hawke quickly goes for the cover: ONE! TWO! THR…Kickout. Francis: “And somehow Johnny Dangerous stays alive in this contest!” King: “But for how much longer?” Jay Hawke locks in a front facelock. He drags Johnny Dangerous to the center of the ring and takes his opponent down with a swinging neck breaker. The cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Without hesitation, Jay Hawke picks Dangerous up again and whips him into the turnbuckle. As Dangerous slowly walks out of the corner, Hawke catches him and takes him down with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Another cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Once again, The Dean doesn’t hesitate. He picks up the Barracuda as if to body slam him, but instead takes him down with a shoulder breaker. King: “What a methodical attack. The neck. The back. The already-weakened arm. All of this setting up that Wing Span submission.” Jay Hawke extends Dangerous’ arm and drops a couple of knees to the shoulder. He picks up Dangerous and places him up on the top turnbuckle. Francis: “What’s Hawke doing here?” King: “Most likely, he’s going for one high impact move to put Dangerous away. Finish him, Jay!” Jay Hawke follows his opponent to the top turnbuckle and sets him up for a superplex. Dangerous blocks the move and gets off a few punches to the midsection. Both men struggle for leverage, which is gained by the Barracuda…he picks Jay Hawke up in a suplex position… THUUUUDDDDDD!!!! …and superplexes Jay Hawke out of the ring and onto the arena floor! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” King: “OH MY GOD, JAY HAWKE IS DEAD!” Francis: “You might be exaggerating there, but Dangerous summoned up every last bit of energy he had there and suplexed Hawke over the top rope to the floor!” King: “And the adrenaline might be flowing, as that didn’t seem to affect that left arm a whole lot.” Nick Soapdish begins his ten count, but it’s not going to matter. Johnny Dangerous climbs down the turnbuckle and picks up Jay Hawke. Contrary to King’s statement, the arm is still bothering him, as the second he rolls Hawke into the ring, he clutches the left arm before rolling into the ring after him. Mak: “I think we can safely call that superplex to the floor a turning point, King.” King: “Each man has taken a hard spill to the concrete floor from off the top turnbuckle, and how either man can stand at this point is beyond me!” The former World Champion picks up Jay Hawke and locks in a front facelock. He goes for a vertical suplex, but can’t get the strength in the left arm. He tries again, and this time he summons just enough strength to get Jay Hawke over. The cover: ONE! TWO! THR… kickout! Johnny Dangerous lowers his head in disappointment, but he’s quickly on the attack again. Another front facelock, and this time he takes The Dean down with a DDT. Another cover: ONE! TWO! THR…Kickout. Dangerous stomps Jay Hawke, then backs up a few steps, shouting “Get up!” King: “This might be a mistake!” Franci: “I have to agree, King! He’s got Jay Hawke on the ropes here, and if he can get the pin, he’s the new International champion! Why is he waiting?” Jay Hawke pulls himself to his feet… SMACK! “OHHHHHHHHHH!” …and is quickly knocked back down with the Johnny Kick. Francis: “Superkick! Big time super kick, and the cover!” ONE! TWO! THR…NO! Kickout! “BOOOOOOOOOOOO!” King: “How the hell did he kick out of that?” That about sums up Johnny Dangerous’ reaction, but he doesn’t show it. He stands behind Jay Hawke and waits for him to get to his feet. Hawke gets to his feet, Dangerous lifts him up… “YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Francis: “MI SLAM! We have a new International champion right here! There’s the cover!” ONE! TWO! THRE….Nick Soapdish stops the count as Jay Hawke has draped a foot over the bottom rope! “YAAAAAAAAAA--BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Francis: “He got him!” King: “No he didn’t!” Francis: “He did so!” King: “The referee is holding up two fingers, Mak! He got a foot on the rope at the count of two despite what you and these fans might think!” Johnny Dangerous pulls Jay Hawke back to his feet. He hits Hawke with a couple of forearm smashes, then dropkicks him back into the turnbuckle. Dangerous charges…. CLANG! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” But Hawke moves out of the way, and Dangerous once again hits his shoulder on the ringpost! Francis: “Oh no!” King: “Dangerous went for it all right there, but that left shoulder has to feel like hamburger after that!” Jay Hawke stands behind his opponent and locks in the crossface chickenwing, then leaps up and scissors the free arm with his legs. Funyon: “Fifteen minutes have gone by, fifteen minutes.” Pete: “And there’s the Wing Span! That’s Jay Hawke’s primary finishing hold!” King: “And with as much damage as has already been done to Dangerous’ shoulders, you have to think this is going to an automatic submission!” Johnny Dangerous looks to be fading as he drops to his knees. As he slips a little bit further, the crowd begins to clap and chant: “PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP!” The chants of the crowd seem to rejuvenate Johnny Dangerous, as he somehow makes his way back to his feet. Jay Hawke seems to be in shock as not only has Dangerous not submitted, but he’s got Jay Hawke set up for…. THUD! Pete: “Spinal Explosion!” King: “Unbelievable, Mak! He not only countered the Wing Span, but he turned it into that rolling fireman’s carry!” Pete: “But he might not have enough to cover him!” Johnny Dangerous rolls to the corner and begins to climb the turnbuckles. King: “Or he might be too stupid to pin him while he’s got the opportunity!” Johnny Dangerous has made it to the top turnbuckle, and he struggles to maintain his balance. He leaps, going to the Shooting Johnny Press, but Jay Hawke lifts his knees, catching Dangerous in the shoulder! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Pete: “Jay Hawke got the knees up!” King: “Dangerous was a bit off-target with that shooting star press, and Hawke made him pay for it! Cover him, Dean!” Francis: “But he’s not covering him!” Instead, Jay Hawke is standing behind Dangerous, waiting for him to get to his feet. As he does, the Dean locks in the Wing Span yet again! Francis: “Wing Span again! Can Dangerous find another counter?” The answer in this case is no, as the pain shoots through the shoulder as Dangerous taps out. *DING DING DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 16 minutes 30 seconds, the winner of this contest … and new International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWKE!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jay Hawke releases the hold, his face expressing a combination of joy and relief as Nick Soapdish hands him the championship belt. Francis: “Jay Hawke has done it again! He has become the International Champion for the third and final time in his career, and he moves on to that title unification match at Ground Zero!” King: “Even I will tip my cap to Johnny Dangerous here, Mak. Truly a fantastic performance, and he nearly had him with that MI Slam. Had he hit that in the center of the ring, he probably had the match won right there. But the bottom line is Hawke survived it, and he has taken the championship belt right here tonight.” Jay Hawke holds the championship belt into the air, then cradles it like a young boy hugs his new pet puppy while confetti begins to fall from the ceiling. Francis: “Another championship moment for Jay Hawke, but can he earn one more at Ground Zero in that unification match?” King: “I wouldn’t want to be in the ring against him, I’ll say that much!” Francis: “Fans, for the Suicide King, I’m Mak Francis. Have a good night, everybody!”

Ben Hardy is backstage, nervously pacing in front of a locker room door. He holds a manilla envelope in his hand. The cameraman audibly coughs and Hardy turn to the camera and speaks. “Oh, hello. I’m Ben Hardy backstage and I’m waiting to speak to Fulminatus. I received this envelope earlier today, and the instructions inside said for me to be here with the camera crew at this exact time.” He glances down at the piece of paper in the folder. “So, now apparently I’m supposed to knock on the door three times.” He does. A strange high-pitched voice from within calls “Ahh, I was just expecting you! Enter, Pope Hardy.” Ben Hardy and his crew enter the room and Ben begins to speak. “Yes, Fulminatus, I got your envelope earlier and…” He stops in confusion. All that is in front of him is a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Fulminatus with a tape recorder taped to it. “Is this supposed to be some sort of a joke?” Hardy sputters. The tape recorder speaks again “You must be confused right now. Good. This is the first step. You may not believe what you see before you, but always remember that all affirmations are true in some sense, false in some sense, meaningless in some sense, true and false in some sense, true and meaningless in some sense, false and meaningless in some sense, and true and false and meaningless in some sense. Now look behind me for your special reward.” The tape then switches over to Barry Manilow. Hardy moves to the other side of the cardboard cut-out and looks at the back. There is a sucker taped to the back of the cut-out. The tape speaks again. “Yes, it is a sucker.” Ben Hardy looks at the camera puzzled. • FADE *

"And we've come to our next contest, with the SWF Hardcore Championship on the line," Mak begins to run down as we return to Storm, "in what we have noted down as a 'HRADKOR' Match. I'm not sure I get the joke. But obscure references aside, this should be a very interesting contest." "Interesting contest? Mak, it's a hardcore match with Doom and Landon." protests King. "Interesting? Maybe. 'Contest' would suggest that this'll be something resembling a sensical wrestling match. Don't make it out to be something it's not. It's Doom, Landon and a bunch of miscellaneous weapon-shots." ".....Jimmy The Doom just this Monday made SWF history as he surpassed one full year with his title. In the past 365 plus days Jimmy has staved off every challenger, survived every hairbrained stipulation and really made the Hardcore Division his own. And now tonight, as year two of Jimmy's Hardcore Title reign begins, he's faced with a new, entirely different type of challenger. Former three-time World Champion Landon Maddix. "Three-time World Champion, zero-time Hardcore Champion." points out King. "Besides, he's hardly a 'new challenger'. Jimmy beat him a few months back." ".....so, Landon Maddix, charged with the task of taking the Hardcore Gamers Championship off of the dominant Jimmy The Doom. And before King decides to jump on anything else I say and ends up covered in tyre marks, let's go to the ring." *DING!* "Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Hardcore Gamers Championship! Introducing first, he is the challenger this evening..." "REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!" The lights dim, alternating between complete blackout and really frikkin' bright as "Personal Jesus" by Marilyn Manson hits. From behind the curtain steps Megan Skye, heralding the arrival of her man, Landon Maddix, who stops at the top of the ramp and... well, just stops. The lights stop alternating but stay dimmed as Megan hisses at Landon to 'do something'. So, he half-heartedly thrusts out his hands, to a roar from the Belfast crowd. "And listen to the sheep bleat their approval!" blasts King. "Actually, sheep would be synonimous with Wales. Which is where we will probably end up being next week, as a matter of fact." "Accompanied to the ring by MEGAN SKYE! Hailing from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... weighing in at two hundred and eight pounds... he is a former SWF World Heavyweight Champion... LLLAAAAAANNDDOOOOONN... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!!!!" "YYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Not looking thrilled at the prospect of this match, Landon trudges to the ring with Megan gallantly trying to fire him up. Maddix just tells his (mostly) faithful manageress to "save the pep squad routine" as he rolls into the ring and goes to his corner. A few light stretches sum up Landon's pre-match preparations. "Landon, not looking his usual self tonight. I'm not a hundred percent sure we can say why on air, but let's just say he didn't have a great outing on Sunday night in Washington D.C on a certain other wrestling show." "Plus, he's about to get picked apart by the Hardcore Champion!" adds King with glee. "Quite the comedown for our former World Champion, huh?" As Megan tries to feed her man's ego by leading the crowd in some early "LANDON" chants. The arena plunges into darkness. Tramping feet echo through the building and are soon joined by chanting voices. Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! The lights snap on to reveal about a dozen druids lining the entrance way. The always stirring and emotionally relevant Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" strikes up, cueing Doomtopia's answer to Victoria and David Beckham, Jimmy The Doom and Lois The Unethical. Jimmy is given a guard of honour by his druids, who honour him with a traditional Doomtopian custom that has existed for years and I didn't just make up. See, wrestling fans throw streamers. Usually with no colour co-ordination to the guy they're being thrown at. But Doom is instead showered with a veritable stream of Halibuts. Keeping his head down, Doom avoids the many fish flung his way. And as his druids end up knocking each other down with the cold, raw fish, Jimmy announces that "Feast Greatly Begins Shalt Verily!" "And introducing his opponent, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical! Hailing from Doomopolis, Doomtopia... he stands six feet, five inches tall and weighs in at two hundred, thirty pounds. He is the current and longest reigning Hardcore Gamers Champion in SWF history... and the longest reigning champion of any form in SWF history! He is butter free. He is marmalade free. And he is better than you! "THE STRAIGHT-BREAD SENSATION"... JJJIIIIIMMMMMMMYYY TTHHHHEEEEEEE DDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!" "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" A cheer goes up from all those not entirely confused right about now. And thank you to those five people. Jimmy enters the ring and points to his belt, which is in the possession of Lois The Unethical. Who also doubles as Lois The Preoccupied, not bothering to raise the title or anything as she unfolds a steel chair and gives one of the halibut a seat at ringside. "..." "..." *DINGDINGDING!* Thankfully the bell sounds and we're now underway. Jimmy drops into fighting stance as Landon, still leant in the corner, stares blankly at the fish at ringside. The fish stares back blankly also. Mainly because it only came out of the freezer two hours ago. "Landon, locked in a staredown with that dead fish... a real meeting of the minds!" sneers King. Maddix breaks away from the fish with a shake of the head and now look at Jimmy, equally confusing apparantly. With encouragement from the outside from Megan though, Landon decides to quit worrying about what the hell is going on and just wrestle. Which is a little redundant in a HRADKOR Match. Landon tries to initiate a collar and elbow tie-up, but Jimmy just stands there for a couple of seconds before pushing Landon away. Regaining his footing, Landon tries to move in again. But Jimmy drives his hands into Landon's chest with a Double Palm Thrust and the air rushes out of Landon's sails. "And that's what Jimmy came here to do tonight," calls Mak, "throw a bunch of really unorthodox strikes. He certainly didn't come here to wrestle." "You know, I'm amazed that Landon tried to wrestle. I mean... it's Landon." Once Jimmy re-adjusts his fingerless gloves, he sets up an irish whip. Coming back off the ropes Landon goes skidding through the legs of The Straight-Breader with a baseball slide. And as Jimmy lumbers around... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...Maddix responds with a knifedge chop. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" A second. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" And a third, rocking the lanky Hardcore Champion a little. Realising he's now in a match, no matter how little he may be interested in it, Landon finally shows some enthusiasm and summons up some inner power. He then hits the ropes, little realising that Jimmy has done the same, until he rebounds off the ropes to find no opponent. Instead, Jimmy has bounced off the same ropes that Landon had and Bulldogs him to the canvas! ABANDONADO! "...huh?" "What now King. That was a perfectly normal Bulldo..." "What the hell happened to the sound-effects?" "What... what sound-effects?" stutters Mak, desperately trying to maintain the crumbling fourth wall. "I... don't know what you're talking about." With Landon checking his face is still in one piece, he's picked up off the canvas by Jimmy. The Doomtopian leads La Cucaracha into the corner and slams his face into the top turnbuckle, further jeaopardising the merchandise-selling good looks of the challenger. An irish-whip then sends Maddix corner to corner. With Maddix slumped against the turnbuckles, Jimmy turns to the crowd and gives the call for the 73.5267.1094Q80.16. Unfortunately, by the time he's finished, Landon is already halfway back across the ring and he knocks down Doom with a Flying Forearm! ABATIMIENTO! "Seriously, what the HELL is going on?" "You must be hearing things King." Jimmy is right back up and Landon tries to chop the big, lanky tree down with a straight kick to the chest. Withstanding that, Doom stands tall. A second kick has similiarly little effect. So Landon summons on all his Puroresu power, shouting to the heavens above and... ...poking Jimmy in the eyes! "YYEEEAAAAHHHH!" "Well, there's one universal weakness. Even Doomtopians can't withstand a good thumb to the eyes." As Jimmy blindly fumbles around the ring, Maddix quickly turns to the outside and calls for "something to hit him with". Not very specific, but hey, he's in the middle of a match here. Megan just seems relieved that Landon is finally giving a hoot about the match and takes a second to realise he was talking to her before she goes hunting under the ring, throwing a garbage can lid to her man. Retrieving it in a scurry, Maddix wheels right around just as Jimmy was blindly beginning to gain on him... ABECEDARIO! ...and clobbers him over the head with it! Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, Jimmy doesn't go down. So Landon tries again... ABIGARRADO! ...and again, plenty of impact but no sign of knocking the Hardcore Gamers Champion down. It's clear Jimmy is feeling the effects. The stubborn Straight-Breader just won't fall over, that's all. Which is a problem for Landon, who quickly tries to unbend the dented trash can lid, before... ABOCHORNAR! ...slamming it over Doom's head for a third successive time. This time, Jimmy does go down. But he doesn't stay there for long. "Landon's going to have to do a lot more than that to keep Jimmy The Doom down." Mak ominously predicts. Realising that the flimsy metal disk isn't doing the job, Landon tosses it aside and asks for something else. Megan quickly scuttles over, moving the body of Funyon who got smaked in the face with the frisbee like lid and very graciously gave up his steel chair in the process of collapsing. In comes the chair and Landon charges at Jimmy... ABREVIATURA! ...WHO HEADBUTTS THE CHAIR BACK INTO MADDIX'S FACE!!! "YYEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" "Have I said unorthodox enough yet during Jimmy's Hardcore Title reign?" Mak asks aloud, as Doom recovers quickest from the meeting with the steel and covers Landon... ONE! TWO! NO! Climbing back to his feet, Doom notices the chair laying on the mat and smiles. He then inexplicably rolls out of the ring and grabs one of the many halibut still lying in the aisleway, as the nose-holding fans cheer him on. Kinda. "Wait, how do we know those are halibut?" King finally asks. Somebody had to. "I mean, is there a fish scholar in the back who verified it or something?" Doom cradles the halibut in his hands, carefully because let's not forget fish are very slippery. And he waits for Landon to get back up. Head throbbing from the chair still Maddix squints at the bright lights, struggling to see where he is. Megan frantically points behind Landon and warns him to "watch out, he's got a halibut", which naturually The Next Generation puts down to the crazy ramblings of some drunk Irishman in the crowd. ABSURDO! Jimmy connects with the halibut right to the head, dropping Landon like a crate of ripe watermelon. Understandably sure that this is the end, Jimmy tosses the halibut aside and dives onto Landon with the pin... ONE! TWO! NO, ONLY TWO!! "Oh my God!" cries Mak, getting into the spirit of things. "The halibut to the face, NOT ENOUGH!" "I hate this company." By the hair Doom drags Landon back up. A palm thrust, this time singular and to the face, sends Maddix staggering backwards into a corner. And again Jimmy gives the signal, 73.5267.1094Q80.16! "Dial it up!" Into the corner runs Jimmy, hooking the head for the 73.5267.1094Q... ...NO! Landon hangs onto the top rope and with his arms still covered in halibut slime, Jimmy's grip slips harmlessly away. Clearing his head, Maddix quickly hops to the middle rope. And as Doom begins to crawl over, high into the air Landon soars, coming down with both feet buried squarely in the back of The Straight-Bread Sensation! "Mushroom Stomp!" calls Mak. Momentum carries Jimmy forward, landing face-first on the bottom turnbuckle. Narrowly Landon avoids slipping on the halibut and runs back into the corner, realising he's going to have to stay on his record-breaking opponent. Jimmy pulls himself up in the corner... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and gets chopped. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...again. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and again. "This may be the way through here for Landon, I don't think hitting Jimmy in the head is a viable strategy." Mak coaches. "So, he's going beat him with a knifedge chop?" counters King. Obviously not, so Maddix walks across the ring and gets a big run-up. Into the turnbuckles he charges, firing off a big diving forearm in the corner! With Jimmy still standing, Landon then grabs the steel chair, still in the ring from earlier, setting it up in front of The Doomtopian. However, Landon's attempt to set Jimmy up on the ropes is less successful and Jimmy fights him off. A couple of thrust kicks to the gut have Landon reeling. And a final thrust up in the sternum sends Maddix falling backwards, in a seated position on the chair. Doom pushes himself up onto the middle rope now and with Landon set, the Hardcore Champion dives at him, looking to crush him with a body splash... ABURGUESARSE! ...crushing the CHAIR, but not Landon who had dove to safety! "YYEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" "This crowd a little split here, they just seem to be cheering for the violence over any one competitor." points out Mak. "And that was certainly something worth cheering about, Jimmy obliterating that chair with an ill-fated dive!" "Maybe that's how Landon's going to win the title - sheer luck! Man, can't believe I hadn't thought of that one." Rolling Jimmy over, Maddix covers... ONE! TWO! No! Keeping Jimmy's awkward frame down proves to tough for Landon, who barely managed to hook the leg. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" Megan leads the crowd in their chant... "JI - MMY!" "JI - MMY!" "JI - MMY!" "JI - MMY!" ...and Lois just stands in the corner, rubbing two rocks together and trying to create fire. Let's hope she doesn't succeed. Meanwhile, Landon has a weakness to exploit now and stays on the ribs with a flurry of stomps. A good dozen or so land as Doom tries to cover up, unable to do much to stop the kicks. Maddix eventually stops with the kicking and grabs hold of Jimmy by the MOUSTACHE, which no doubt infuriates The Straight Bread Sensation as he's lead to his feet. Scoop and... no slam. Landon fails to lift up Doom and takes an elbow to the back of the skull. Away goes Landon as Jimmy comes roaring... ACALORARSE! ...right into the chair, which is thrown like a javelin (a low flying one) into his ribs. And as Jimmy doubles over, Landon quickly follows up, landing a dropkick to the side of the head! ACAUDALADO! "See this is where Maddix is fighting a losing battle." argues King. "He can hit and hit Doom all day with all manner of strikes and inanimate objects, the question is when it's going to start to register. By that time, Maddix will have used up everything he's got and probably got Jimmy Bombed or whatever the hell it is Jimmy does. That's how Jimmy's kept the title so long, attrition." "No-one has been able to outlast Jimmy The Doom with that belt on the line yet." And sure enough, Jimmy is getting back up. Looking despondant at his opponent's refusal to stay down Landon again turns to the outside and asks for another weapon from Megan. This time she comes out with a LADDER, to the approval of the Northern Ireland crowd! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" "Now, this is hardly fair!" protests King. "Not that I care if this Jimmy moron gets whacked upside the head with a ladder, but the fact that Maddix has got a woman doing his fetching and carrying for him!" "Don't you have two maids?" "One is on a part-time contract, that's besides the point." "Well, Jimmy's got Lois right there!" argues Mak, as Megan and Landon make a bit of a meal over getting the ladder in the ring. "There no disqualifications, there's no reason why shouldn't couldn't stop Megan if it were that big of a deal. She doesn't have to be completely inanimate around the ring." With the ladder finally in play, Landon quickly deadlifts it and charges at Doom. Having reached his feet Jimmy has come charging in his own right. But Maddix is carrying about 40 pounds of steel and that proves the key, as Doom gets BLASTED in the chest with the ladder and knocked clean off his feet! ACÉRRIMO Dropping the ladder, Landon makes the cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Cursing to himself, Maddix scrambles to his feet, quickly setting the ladder. He then sets Jimmy, trying to execute a suplex onto the ladder! Doom stands stead-fast and blocks the suplex, not once but twice. But after a few shots up under the ribs Maddix manages to weaken Jimmy up a little and take him up and over, not with the crispest suplex ever but one which ends on a ladder all the same! ACHICHARRAR! Cover, on the ladder... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT AGAIN! This time Landon shows visible frustration as he slams his fists into the canvas. Megan urges her man to keep his cool, to which he reminds her that he doesn't even really want the stupid belt anyway. This schoolboy petulance doesn't go down well though and a stern look from Megan soon gets Landon back in line, before she gives him some advise. "I'm not sure Landon and Megan really know how to keep Jimmy down here." Mak notes. "After all, nobody has known how to do it in the past year in the hardcore division." "And Maddix is the suck." "I believe you mean 'teh suck'. Or possibly even 'suxx0rs'." Advise taken, Maddix kicks Jimmy in the back of the head to keep him down. Which doesn't really work, so he goes to work on the ribs with a bunch of kicks until he does stay down. Opening up the ladder, Landon then takes the top set of rungs and looks out into the crowd, taking a dramatic pause like all good egotists showmen, before closing the ladder on Jimmy's torso! ACLARATORIO! ACLIMATACIÓN! ACOMETIDA! ACONDICIONAR! ACOPLAMIENTO! Five times in all, leaving Jimmy trapped in the middle of the ladder. At which point, Maddix exits the ring and heads up to the top. "Here we go again with this high risk." criticises King. "Well, Landon might be risking all here on one roll of the dice. But Jimmy is still down and he looks hurt, sandwiched in that ladder..." Wait a minute. Sandwiched you say? Sure enough, once Jimmy realises the situation, the pain is replaced with complete unbridalled FURY! Un-sandwiching himself, The Straight Bread Sensation roars at the top of his lungs, Landon's eyes bugging out of his head as he sees Jimmy charging towards him and knocking him off the top rope, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE CONCRETE BELOW!!! "YYYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" "And the high-risk does not pay off!" "No surprise there then." snides King. Maddix lies in a heap on the floor as Jimmy, still in a rage, picks up the ladder and slams it into the mat. Which doesn't really do a lot, except show he's mad and stuff. Exiting the ring, Jimmy then grabs Landon and throws him face-first into the ring apron! Landon falls onto his BUTT and instantly tries to beg off. Jimmy roars back at him that "Tricks falling am not for!" though and as Maddix tries to comprehend what the hell was just said, he gets the sole of Jimmy's boot slammed into his face! ACOSTUMBRADO! "Let the ass-kicking commence!" King cheers. "Make the most of it Jimmy, this is the only time I think I'd ever cheer for you, although I withhold the right to go back on that promise in the future." Back inside we go, but not before Jimmy routes under the ring and produces an ominous black bag. Placing that under the bottom turnbuckle Jimmy slides back in, where Landon is staggering around aimlessly, bearings lost. As he turns around, Doom further scrambles his brains with the sacred Yak Kick to the face! ACTUALMENTE! Deciding the bag wasn't important after all, Jimmy pins... ONE! TWO! SHOULDER UP! Sitting Landon up, Jimmy prepares to lock in the dreaded Head Vice~! However Landon rolls backwards and catches Doom in a bodyscissors, before rolling him forward into a pin... "Flash pin!" ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!! "OOOHHHHHHHHH!" "That would have been some way for Jimmy's year long title reign to end!" "Some crappy way, sure." King shrugs. Back up first, Doom finds himself backed up against the ropes. Maddix, running a little desperate by now, just charges blindly at his opponent and he takes another faceful of boot for his troubles. With his facial features really getting roughed up now Landon goes staggering away as Doom brushes past him, coming off the ropes connecting with a Corkscrew Flying Elbow! ACCURUCARSE! Maddix is in la-la land by now and staggers right back to his feet on instincts and instincts alone. His instincts should have told him to stay down, as Doom again comes off the ropes. This time, no fanciness. He comes back with a Running Headbutt which catches Maddix right in the side of the neck, sending him tumbling out through the ropes and onto the ring apron! ADELANTADO! "Doom building a lot of momentum here! And it seems like Landon just has no answer for it, everything he's done in the match up until now has been virtually worthless!" "As opposed to hi..." "Yeah yeah, obvious punchline." Dragging himself up on the apron, all semblence of fight has gone out of the window and it seems that Landon is saying "no more, no more". Read: weeping, "no more, no more". Referee Sexton Hardcastle doesn't interpret this as a submission because... well, it's not. It's a very groggy Landon wishing he wasn't where he was. Which he soon isn't (!?!?), as Jimmy walks over and tugs on the top rope, the only thing keeping Maddix from falling to the ground and now the thing dragging up over the top and into the ring, the proverbial hard way! Maddix groans in pain and slowly starts to climb back up, as Jimmy uncoils the hands, ready for the Jimmy Bomb! A r o u n d turns Landon, seemingly taking forever to do so, but finding himself goozled all the same once he does make it around to facing Jimmy. Which is when Megan jumps to the apron. "The whating!?" Jimmy is distracted, just long enough for Landon to go LOW on The Doomtopian! Some of the crowd don't appreciate that much and boo La Cucaracha, as Megan quickly jumps back to the floor and Landon just as quickly drops the Champ with the Complete Shot! ADELANTAMIENTO! "Of course, the lowblow perfectly legal, Megan just there to buy Landon a couple of seconds. And what a couple of precious seconds they could be..." Labouring over rolling Jimmy over, it takes Landon that couple of seconds again to make the cover... ONE! TWO! NO! "Again, to the head, not smart." King points out. "JI - MMY" "JI - MMY" "LAN - DON!" "JI - MMY" "JI - MMY" "LAN - DON!" With Jimmy at least dazed, Maddix knows he has to act fast. Which is hard after the headshots he's just been taking, but he manages to get to his feet first and waits on Jimmy. A quick kick doubles up the Champ and Landon hooks the head, running up the buckles looking for the Seated Shiranui (aka Sliced Bread #2, of course!)... ...but Jimmy pushes him safely over his head! Landon lands on his feet behind Jimmy and looks to be going for a Lungblower, or at least going after a hold of Doom's head. A mule kick in the gut cuts him off though, Doom turning around and re-claiming his hold on Maddix's throat with his hands. And with no hesitations last time, he lifts Landon up for the Jimmy Bomb... ...NO! Maddix pushes his feet off of Jimmy's thighs and the Straight Breader loses control of his man, who pushes out in front and plants Doom face-first into the canvas!! ADELANTE! "The Thesz Plant!" Landon hooks the leg... ONE! TWO! NO, TWO!! "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Landon looks distraught and questions the count with Hardcastle, who insists it was only two. Losing his cool a little Landon brushes past the official and comes to a sudden stop, as he spots the black bag nestled safely under the turnbuckles. "Uh-oh." "He wouldn't." "Well, this is most unlike Landon to be going so 'hardcore'... but, as they say, when in Rome." "I thought we were in Belfast? I know the schedule is confusing, but..." As soon as he reaches for the bag it seems Landon is already having second thoughts. His hand hovers for a second or two over whether to actually take that step and grab the bag or not. But eventually, in his desperation at seeing Doom getting back up, he does take the bag. Unknotting it, it seems Landon can barely even look at what he's doing as he cringes, opening up the bag and very careful pouring out thousands and thousands of... ...MELON SEEDS!? "You have got to be kidding me." groans King. It's only the crowd's laughter that gets Landon to actually look at the remnants of the bag. Having been too scared to even look at the thumbtacks filling the ring, it's safe to say Landon is surprised to find precisely no thumbtacks filling the ring. And when he realises what IS filling the ring, he throws the bag away in despair, wondering what the hell he did to deserve this gig... ...and turning into Jimmy's waiting hands again... ADIVINANZA! ...JIMMY DOOM, INTO THE MELON SEEDS!!!!!! "OH DIOS MIO~!!!" ONE! TWO! THRE... NO, WAIT, TWO! ONLY TWO!! "YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Wow! Landon..." Mak pauses, waiting for Hardcastle's confirmation. "...Landon kicked out! I don't believe it, melon seeds or not I thought that was it!" "And that's something you don't hear every day folks!" Writhing in pain, the effects of the razor-sharp melon seeds in his back has clearly done the damage to Landon. And now Jimmy just has to pick the pieces as he begins to drag Landon up. (To be fair, some of the seeds are actually stuck to Landon's back, so maybe he's not a total wuss.) Doom gets Landon to his feet and delivers the kick, trying to position his opponent over the seeds for some reason before he delivers the coup de gras. Once positioned though, he grabs the hair and looks to drive Maddix face-first with the Doom Factor.... ...but Landon escapes! Dropping to his knees, Maddix crawls through the bemused Doom's legs and scrambles to his feet. Left with only a few stray strands of hair in his gloveless fingers, Jimmy turns around and tries to grab Maddix again... ...AND GETS A HANDFUL OF SEEDS THROWN INTO HIS EYES!!!! "Oh, he got him in the eyes!" Ridiculous as it may seem, Jimmy is blinded. And as he staggers around, Landon's eyes seem to light up. Nothing has worked so far and Landon has to bust out something, so quickly takes Jimmy up and heaves him into a fireman's carry. Barely carrying the 230 pounds, Maddix struggles to get the awkward Hardcore Champion into position. But once he does, there's only one place Doom is going. 2 Sleep. "YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Go 2 Sleep!! Landon managed to get Doom up and down... Jimmy might be out cold!" The crowd, sensing they're witnessing something, rise to their feet as Maddix waits. Jimmy is still moving and somehow he's getting, slowly, to his feet. However, he doesn't make it any further than just the one knee... *SMACK!* ...AS HE FALLS PREY TO THE SHINING WIZAAARD!! "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "A second headshot!" cries Mak. "And WHAT a shot!" Drained, Landon drops on top of Doom, hooking the leg as best he possibly can... ONE! "Could it be?" TWO! "Don't tell me..." THREEEE!!!!! "YES! IT'S OVER!! We have a NEW Hardcore Champion, at long, long last!!" *DINGDINGDING!* At first, the crowd are quiet. Stunned. Shocked even. Before finally the cheers surface for Landon as he rolls off of Jimmy and breathes and huge sigh of relief. "Ladies and gentlemen, here is your... and the NEEEWWWW SWF HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION... LLLLAAAAANNDDOOOONN "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMMAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXX!!!!" "YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Three hundred and twenty seven days later, Jimmy The Doom's monumental title reign is finally brought to an end! An amazing chapter in the SWF closes! Jimmy has been dethroned! And of all the people in the world, it's by Landon Maddix, what an unbelievable result!" "You're telling me unbelievable!" yells King. "I... I don't know what the hell just happened!" "Then let me spell it out for you. Landon Maddix. New Hardcore Gamers Champion!" As Megan comes rushing over with the belt, Landon rolls out of the ring and just looks relieved to be out of it. He barely even glances at the title as Megan thrusts under his nose, but is happy to celebrate the fact that he actually won, don't you worry. In the ring Lois tends to Jimmy, who still seems to have a melon seed or two stuck in his eyes. Landon watches on, raising his eyebrows a little that Jimmy is even conscious and motioning to Megan that they should get the hell out of here. "What a shocker here, one new Champion and we guarantee another next. Johnny Dangerous, Jay Hawke, new International Champion will be crowned, don't go anywhere!" ===================================== ===================================== Megan continues to carry the belt as Landon leads her up the ramp, not hanging around for any repercussions or any big celebrations. The duo stop in the middle of the aisleway and with Megan questioning him that he is happy to have one, Landon makes an effort to show he's okay by holding his arms up to the crowd. Who boo. As from out of nowhere, MANSON comes charging down the aisle and wipes Maddix out with a cheapshot!!!! "Wha... what the hell is this!? "Yes!" "Are we on?" Mak hurriedly asks, having assumed the show had gone to commercial apparantly. "MANSON... what the hell is MANSON doing out here!?" As Megan scuttles away and shakily holds up her hands to MANSON, telling him to stay back, The Raging Bull turns right back to Landon and starts to put the boots to the new Hardcore Gamers Champion. Stomp after stomp rains down on the exhausted Next Generation, before MANSON grabs hold of the legs, splitting them and dropping a big knee to the groin! "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Landon howls in pain as MANSON smiles at Megan, beginning to make a move towards her. Referee Hardcastle, who's trying to reason within MANSON from within earshot but out of his striking range, gets in between them to keep Megan safe. But MANSON doesn't go after her and instead grabs Landon again. This time, he steps through the legs though and turns Landon over. Megan can only watch on and so can the fans, as MANSON places his foot on the back of Landon's head, hovers him over the concrete... "No! NOOO!" ...AND CURBSTOMPS HIM INTO THE GROUND!!!!! "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" With Maddix now motionless, a deranged look enters MANSON's eyes. Rambling something that we can't quite hear over the boos MANSON backs away towards the backstage area, which is when Megan and Hardcastle run in to check on Landon. "What a reprehensible move from MANSON! A sneak attack, no other words for it, he just laid out Landon moments after this hardcore match. Landon was defenceless! Just what the hell is MANSON's problem with Landon!?" "Does it matter? The fact is, he has a problem with Landon, which means he's just like the rest of us." "King, come on. This was totally unmeditated!" As Landon remains flat out on the floor, we belatedly cut to the commercials.

Austin City Limits vs. RAYNOROSITY TBEIASATWUITMAMIWTMB***. *** To be edited in as soon as Tom wakes up in the morning whenever that may be.

As we fade in, the House of Marvelous set has been placed in the ring, the red carpet perfectly centered. The entrance arch is facing the Smarktron. Standing beside the arch, looking like an additional, if far more well-tailored pillar, is Mr. Bruner, fedora placed at a careful angle obviously designed for maximum menace. He stands alone, waiting. “Here we are in the House of Marvelous again,” Mak sighs. “Why so glum, Francis?” King asks sarcastically. “The last House of Marvelous gave us a wonderful beatdown of that double-0 nothing, Dangerous. Classic entertainment, I tell you. And this week, Sir M is interviewing the future New Blood champion.” “You’re getting ahead of yourself, King,” Mak replies. “There are several viable contenders in this tournament still, and the guest tonight will have his hands full.” A moment later, Notorious BIG’s “I Love the Dough” shakes its way out of the speakers and the Marvelous One comes down to the ring, his impeccable silver-sheened Armani suit gleaming in the spotlights. He enters the ring, nodding to Bruner, who returns it solemnly, only his head moving. After Marvelous enters the gateway, Bruner puts up the velvet rope, completing the scene as Sir Marvelous takes the microphone from its stand. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may use those terms,” he blares haughtily. “WELLLLLLLLLCOME to the HOUSE OF MAAAAAAAAARVELLLLLLLLLOUS!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Tonight, we will be heralding the birth of a new age in the SWF, my friends,” Marvelous declares over the crowd. “Tonight, my guest is one of the ‘New Blood’ who is even now involved in the tournament of that same name, to determine the future stars of the SWF. He is the Mad Scientist of the Mat, the Professor of Pain, MMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIICHAELLLLLLLLLLL AAAAAAAAAALEXAAAAAAAAAAAANDER!” “Dread Rock” by Paul Oakenfold begins to play, and the a video montage of Alexander’s previous in-ring exploits interspersed with Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” highlighting the areas that the various moves depicted in the video injure on his opponents. The video has been updated with shots of his last two opponents in the SWF, highlighting Alexander’s vicious streak. With mixed boos and cheers, boos predominating, Michael Alexander steps out onto the rampway, shakes his head at the crowd as he surveys them, and makes his way to the ring. Alexander enters he ring, and as he approaches the arch, Bruner courteously opens the velvet rope so that he can enter. The Mad Scientist walks up and shakes hands with Marvelous, and the host offers him a seat. As both men take their respective seats, Marvelous brings microphone to mouth once more, to the obvious audible displeasure of the crowd. “Mr. Alexander,” Sir Marvelous says in fawning fashion, “you are obviously the favorite in this tournament. However, you are also a newcomer to competition here in the SWF. What are your thoughts so far?” Marvelous holds the microphone toward Alexander. The Evil Genius looks at him incredulously. “You mean you haven’t guessed them? I would have thought it would be obvious. If this wasn’t a quick way to make serious progress toward the big picture in the SWF and get more movement through the roster, I’d almost be embarrassed.” “Embarrassed to be involved in a historic title tournament?” Mak sputters. “Hear him out, Francis,” King cajoles. “Listen before you jump to your conclusions.” “Embarassed?!” It’s now Marvelous’ turn to look incredulous, although it’s obviously feigned. “Of course,” Alexander continues unabashedly. “I am The Most Scientifically Scintillating Superstar to Enter the Squared Circle. I quite simply can outwrestle any other participant in this tournament, bar none. I’ve become accustomed to such situations, as I must.” Sir Marvelous nods in solemn agreement. “It is a cross one of your talents must often bear.” “But you must also see how much more absurd this particular circumstance is than most,” Alexander adds sadly. “My main competitors in the New Blood tournament are a giant insane clown, some Canadian masked man who calls himself a superhero, and another mystery man who obviously needs his medical prescriptions reevaluated. Really, I only step into the ring with such people to satisfy my scientific curiosity.” “You are known as the Mad Scientist of the Mat,” Marvelous chimes in. “I disagree with the term ‘mad,’” Alexander smirks. “I simply accept no limits on my scientific curiosity regarding the extremity of conditions that my opponents’ minds and bodies can endure before they are broken.” Marvelous continues to nod in agreement. “A worthy endeavor such a study may be.” “He’s going to have neck problems if he keeps nodding like that-” “Shhhhh, Francis,” King cuts him off. “It’s rude to interrupt people when they’re speaking. Mak groans into the mike. “Well, as a fellow Southern gentleman, I can understand your frustration at having to deal with those of obviously lesser worth, even in a strictly scientific capacity. It is the constant test of the gifted to deal with the less fortunate.” Marvelous bemoans. “I really have nothing but pity for them,” Alexander sighs. “You see, with me added to this tournament, they suddenly become as irrelevant as Dennis Kucinich in the Democratic Presidential Primaries, as superfluous as the vestigial leg bones on a modern whale, as painfully out of their depth as an infant in the Marianas Trench.” The erstwhile host of the House of Marvelous continues to nod sagely in tandem with Alexander’s pronouncements as at a Mass. “Is it just me, King, or is Marvelous looking more and more like a bobblehead toy?” “Marvelous can’t help but agree with Alexander here, Francis, and unlike you, he is not rude enough to interrupt his guest.” King snarks. The Evil Genius suddenly stands up, taking the microphone roughly from Marvelous, who looks aghast. Even Bruner seems surprised. “I’ve been here two weeks now, Marvelous!” Alexander is now staring at the camera, obviously furious. “I’ve watched a Disney employee win the World Heavyweight Championship! A repackaged washout who still associates himself with his previous pop-culture identity has shown up to claim a right to Word Title contendership the instant he sets foot in the arena!” The Evil Genius lowers his voice in a cold fury. “Meanwhile, MY first opponent in this tournament called himself ‘The Preppy One’ and associated himself with teen dramadies unfit even for the mind-numbing drivel of prime time network television! The remaining competition is just as laughable,” The Mad Scientist turns back to Marvelous, who shrinks into his overly plush sofa. “And I, the most accomplished wrestler, yes WRESTLER, on this roster, am consigned to this tournament of ignominy. The powers that be have left me with no choice but to utterly destroy any obstacles, whether masked or painted, whether insane or simply deluded, placed in my path. And upon their broken, twisted bodies and careers, I will ascend to the New Blood championship, and using that as yet another stepping stone, I will attain the ultimate goal…the World Heavyweight Championship.” Marvelous starts to get up as Bruner approaches, worried by the tirade. Marvelous motions Bruner to stay back a moment. Alexander hands the microphone back to Marvelous, who accepts it gingerly, like a new initiate in a snake-handling church. The Mad Scientist isn’t done, however. “Next week, I’ll enter the ring once again, and my opponent should remember that scientific curiosity is a dangerous thing…especially when you are its subject.” Alexander turns and exits the ring without leaving through the designated velvet-roped arch and without further interaction with Marvelous, who just stands there for a moment. He quickly recovers, and as though Alexander was not already halfway down the ramp, he pronounces, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Michael Alexander!” Marvelous looks admonishingly at Bruner for allowing Alexander to leave without passing the arch. Bruner just shrugs. King breathes hoarsely. “That was the most intensity we’ve seen from Michael Alexander. It’s easy to excuse, though, when you think about the situation he’s in.” “His complete lack of respect for everything and everyone is going to get him into a lot of trouble, King.” Mak replies. “He’s actually in a situation that lots of young up-and-comers would give a lot for, and he takes it as an insult.” “Oh come on, Francis, you know he’s right about that. I mean, what the Hell? Blue Leaf?! FULMINATUS!?! That nearly seven-foot tall clown guy?! Alexander’s the only real wrestler in this tournament.” “Even the weirdoes and the crazies can get a win over you if you ignore their abilities. I mean, the Myers match just a—” “Francis, I swear if you mention that horrific fiasco again, I’ll…” “Go on to our next match?” Mak interjects quickly. “Yes, we should.” The King fumes as we… FADE OUT.

Killa vs. Ordonez to be editededededededededed in. ....ed.

"Allison…" Resting inside his temporary office, a weary Tom Flesher naps face down on his desk. Then, a low, rumbling voice breaks in. "Tom." As he drifted off to sleep some time ago, despite his talent, brains, brawn and natural good looks with strong, masculine jaw and barrel chest, he still thought, "It sure is tough being Tom Flesher." "Just… a few more…" he mumbles groggily. "Tom!" And when he locked the door earlier, little did he think anyone would be brazen enough to somehow get inside, much less jolt him from from his much deserved sleep. "I'm working!" shouts Tom as he wakes, while we pan off to the side where Manson stands in the corner of the room, dressed in full mask and cloak outfit. Flesher turns in his chair, looking in disbelief at the Stampede. "What? Is it Halloween already? I have half a Snickers here if you want it." Silently Manson only shakes his head side to side. "Not a fan, huh. But Jesus! I'm begging you not to do that!" he shouts again as he rubs his eyes, "You're scary enough now, so what are you sneaking around for?! I was a having a nice dream, you know." "I'm practicing." "I don't get it… but didn't I lock the door? How'd you get in?" "Mansonosity." "I knew I shouldn't have asked. But I'm very busy you know, very busy," says Tom, as he reaches for the phone and begins pushing buttons, "I've got a lot of contacts on hold." "I've been here, you were sleeping the whole time…" "Okay. Fine. You got me." "One guy, he said he was from the head office. He sounded real freaked when I began talking to him about Landon…" "What do you want?!" "He said he would call back later or something, I don't know, that's not my job." "Hey." "I can smell some alcohol on you, so if you have any back there, you know…" "Hey! I don't think I want to see you drunk, so just, please, spit it out already. I can't take anymore of this." "Landon Maddix, right? I want him at Ground Zero." "You…" "Yeah." "versus Landon Maddix…" "Yeah." "at Ground Zero…" "Yeah. Yeah." Tom takes a puff from his cigar and deliberates, but… "No." "Tom!! You saw what he said about me last week, now I can't stand for that. He… Landon… " "If you can't stand, then sit…" says Flesher, chuckling to himself, as he directs Manson to a chair. Manson shrugs his shoulders and plops down on an empty corner of the desk as Tom resigns to burying his head in his palm. "Sit over there, not on my freaking desk…" says Flesher, but Manson ignores the order. "I'm not even Todd Royal?! That's what Landon said about me! About ME! Manson! I'm an infinitesimal, incomprehensible and incalculable number of times better than that fraud! He never had this cloak! He never had this mask, he never had this beard! Now I want a match!" "Speaking of incomprehensible," mutters Tom, "Look. I would love to, but…" "Think about the Mansonites!" "Manson…" "We're… we're… just not seeing eye to eye here, Tom. Suicide King? He said the ratings go up during my segments around fifteen points, though it was closer to ten, but I don't like to brag. The match last week versus Toxxic, numbers through the roof! Everyone on their feet, the kids in the hospitals with cancer that were watching, they were cured, all sorts of things! The action figures, the shirts, all my sales are through the roof! My rap album?! Sold out in Japan!" "You have a rap album?" questions Tom, but he concedes the point, "Forget about that. Listen, I know all that! I had a feeling you would come to ask about Ground Zero, the problem is that as much as I would like to, in my power I can't force Maddix into that." "…" "Listen. Before you fly off the handle, what I'm saying is he needs to sign off on a PPV match. Besides, I'm… concerned, are you alright?! Ever since I booked Maddix against J3 and… where is he, by the way…" "Dunno," says Manson, as he curiously inspects an office toy. "I know everything but that." "Right. But you haven't wrecked the place or screamed at me and I'd rather not go through the paperwork, so let's say you're good to go. That said, if you can find some way to get Maddix to take the match then I can book it. But I'm begging you… and listen to me close here…" Manson sets down the gadget and turns his head toward Flesher while Tom lights a cigarette. "I assume you remember what happened, so I'm telling you right now not to pull another Drake. Capiche?" "Yeah. I just need a way to get Landon to take the match… I got it, Tom! I got it!" says Manson as he stands. "Are you absolutely sure? Do you need me to pin a note to your… cape… there?" "If it helps." "Get out," says Flesher, as he holds the smoldering cigartte between his fingers and points toward the door, "You're teaming with Raynor later, so go get ready." Manson turns toward Tom as he backs out of the room, pointing back and forth between them both. "You won't regret this! BFF! BFF, Tom! It's me and you!' "Well this should be fun. But I wonder…" sighs Flesher, as the door closes shut, "if I may have made some sort of mistake… but then again I don't make mistakes."

As the commercial for Fulminatus Tax F(n)or(d)ms (“Less confusing than the real thing!”), the camera pans across the packed Odyssey Arena, showing off the pumped up Irish crowd. Green and orange dominate the crowd, beer coats the floor, and general rowdiness abounds as the production crew cuts to the announcer’s table. “Welcome back, fans, as we come to you live, from Belfast, Ireland,” opens Mak Francis, straightening his tie shuffling his notes, “And up now is the final 1st Round match in the New Blood tournament between recent acquirement Blue Leaf and Olaf Andersen, the youngest of the Four Norsemen.” “Yeah, just great: Another snooze of a match,” scoffs the Suicide King, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the announcer’s table, “I mean, we have another Canadian fruitcake, and as much as I love Olaf, I’m beginning to feel that he doesn’t have ‘it’.” “By ‘it’, you mean he hasn’t shown that he can successfully cheat his way to title?” “Exactly, Mak. It shows a lack of killer instinct, and at 25, he’s gonna become an old maid if he doesn’t turn it around. But I’ll definitely root for him over some talentless Canuck.” As King finishes up, “Pursuit of Vikings” kicks up over the arena PA system, and the Andersen brothers enter at the top of the ramp. They walk down in the ramp, soaking in the boos as they shoot comments at the remarkably vocal crowd, and shoot back Gaelic insults with their own in Swedish. “Now entering the ring, weighing in at 228 pounds and hailing from Stockholm, Sweden, he is one of the FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUR NOOOOOOOOOOOOORSEMEN. He is… OLAF! ANNNNNNNNNNNDERSEN!” “If there was ever an inseparable pair in the SWF, those two would be it,” Mak remarks in a low town, “Fortunately, their habit of turning singles matches into handicap matches hasn’t gotten them anywhere fast.” Olaf jumps over the top rope as he begins to jump in his corner, his older, larger brother coaching him from the steel stairs behind his turnbuckle. As the two do their act, a suitably heroic instrumental theme kicks up as the newest SWF acquisition enters to a modest pop. It doesn’t bother him, though, and he gladly jogs down the ramp, slapping hands with some of the younger fans who just want to be part of the show. “Now entering the ring, weighing in at 223 pounds and hailing the GREAT, WHITE NORTH… He is BLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUE LEEEEEEEEEEEEEAF!” “From what I’ve been told, Blue Leaf is a little rough around the edges, but he has a lot of raw talent,” notes Mak as the SWF rookie enters the ring, “Most of the trainers say that he’s someone to watch as he develops.” “Pfft. This guy is no different than a Hurricane Helms, only lamer for being from Canadia. Blue Leak isn’t heading anywhere besides to the jobber pool.” The young Canadian slides into the ring and mounts his turnbuckle, raising a fist in the air for another small pop (You have to start somewhere, don’t you?), playing up to the crowd… when Olaf nails him in the back with a running forearm! The ref quickly looks for the bell as the Swede nails him in the back again and again to a chorus of boos. DING DING DING “Well, at least Olaf started the right way,” King says with a smile, “If the guy is stupid enough to turn his back to you, you make him pay for it.” “But the match hadn’t even started!” “So? That just makes it legal, Mak. That’s a basic mistake, especially against one of these guys,” he explains as Olaf pulls Blue Leaf off the turnbuckle and tumbling to the mat, “These guys are related to people who sacked and pillaged Europe! When you’re countrymen’s greatest feat is asking nicely for your independence, you better be a little more cautious.” “I don’t even know where to begin…” While Mak shakes his head at King’s un-PCness, Olaf capitalizes on his ambush with a quick fistdrop right to the sternum! He gives a cocky strut as he gets back up, imitating his ‘fearless’ leader, before he drops yet another fist into the stomach of the rookie. The crowd boos, and isn’t quelled as his brother gives some encouraging claps. He gets back up and showboats a little more, this time strutting around and putting a hand to his ear before dropping down… … and hitting the canvas with his fist as Blue Leaf rolls away! The crowd cheers as the Swede rolls on his back for a second clutching his hand, while Blue Leaf gets up to a knee and collects himself. Olaf gets up relatively quickly too, his overacting antics ending after he realizes he’s not getting any sympathy. Back in their respective corners, the two at each other before Blue Leaf gets into a fighting stance and holds out his hand, daring Olaf to come forwards! “It looks like Olaf doesn’t want to come out against a ready Blue Leaf,” says Mak, smirking as the Swede begins to consult his brother for advice, “Perhaps that’s a good thing, too: Blue Leaf is definitely a better striker than Olaf could want to be.” After conferring for a few seconds, Olaf looks back at Blue Leaf and shakes his index finger, and instead makes a motion for a knuckle-lock. The young Canadian doesn’t hesitate to nod, and the crowd cheers as the two meet in the center for a knucklelock. Blue Leaf is the first to hold out his right hand out, and Olaf tentatively looks at it and starts extending his own left hand out… and locks up with him! SMACK! Unfortunately, Blue Leaf doesn’t realize that the right hand has other things planned as it impacts on the side of his head in a display of horrible sportsmanship! The shameful Swede keeps his left hand locked, and spins around in place to whip Blue Leaf at the ropes for a very un-Irish whip. Preparing himself for a back body drop, Olaf leans over as the Canadian bounces off the ropes… and kicks him in the back as he literally hurdles over him, not breaking stride! The surprised Swede is barely on the mat, pushing up and turning around to find the navy blue legs of the superheroic Canadian around his neck as he is taken down again by a Flying Head Scissors! The crowd cheers as Blue Leaf kips up to his feet, while the Swede takes a knee and recovers from the quick flurry. But not happy to stop there, the rookie begins to move in again, and Olaf evacuates the ring for a few more seconds to recover. “And Blue Leaf comes back with an EXCELLENT display of athleticism,” calls Mak as Arne once again coaches Olaf on the outside, giving him a few taps to the head with his hand, “While he’s really green, you can see the potential there.” “Yeah, the potential for failure,” quips King as Olaf slides back into the ring and starts moving forwards in a low, grappler-ish stance, “This kid hasn’t shown off anything that I’ve really been impressed with. Heck, from what I hear, he nearly lost to Ced in a dark match! CED! I could sneeze and knock that guy out!” Olaf warily approaches the Canadian, who takes up a fighting stance. He moves in for a low, amateur two-leg takedown… but he hesitates for a moment, allowing Blue Leaf to nail him in the nose with a knee! Olaf begins to stumble backwards, holding his face, and Blue Leaf begins to lay into him, firing off kicks and palms in rapid succession! He drives him into the ropes, and uses it to whip him to the other side of the ring! The Canadian leans back and hurtles himself after the Swede, but as he returns the Swede slides under him, picking himself up in the middle of the ring. Meanwhile, Blue Leaf bounces off the other side… CRASH!!! And flies out onto the concrete! “What the-?!” is all Mak can say as the crowd immediately identifies the culprit: Arne Andersen, who ‘accidentally’ leaned on the ring ropes too hard. Blue Leaf pulls himself up on his hands and knees, shaking his head as he tries to block the pain out. “Excellent teamwork by the Andersen brothers!” exclaims King as Olaf moves himself onto the apron, “You don’t see communication like that outside of tag division very often.” “That’s because this is a singles match! I can’t believe Ki-And Olaf hits a legdrop from the apron!” In the ring, Kivell begins the Ten Count, while Olaf capitalizes by hitting a hard fistdrop on Blue Leaf’s face. Once again, Arne tries to get the crowd behind his little brother with some light clapping, but the Irish crowd pours on the hate for the Swedish duo. Olaf, on the other hand, just eggs the crowd on, motioning for more and more boos, which gets a few beers thrown in his general direction. “The Andersens really know how to rile a crowd up,” notes Mak. “Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it? For lame goody-two-shoes like Blue Balls there, the crowd serves as a real motivating factor. The Andersens aren’t looking to make any friends with a bunch of drunks, but they are looking to take away any advantage they can from this moron. So by getting the crowd to hate them, they take away one of the advantages of being a dirty crowd whore.” “… Wow. I’m actually impressed, King.” “Yeah, you and every woman I’ve ever met, Francis.” After delivering a few kicks to Blue Leaf’s body, Olaf decides to put it back in the ring, and the Swede pulls the Canadian up and rolls him into the ring at “Seven!”. He doesn’t waste any time, quickly pulling him up and dropkicking him in the face! Blue Leaf goes down clutching his nose as Olaf goes and slaps Arne on the hand, and Arne begins to move in towards Blue Leaf before Kivell stops him! What at first appears to be a stupid mistake quickly becomes clear to the crowd as Olaf moves towards the downed Blue Leaf, spreading his legs and giving him a sharp kick to the groin! “Oh, this is ridiculous! I know referees can’t see everything, but Kivell should kick Arne out so he can just watch the match!” “Why, Mak? He hasn’t done anything wrong except give his brother support while he fights a wrestler AND a hostile crowd-“ “-That you admitted that they were purposefully insulting! You can’t have it both ways, King! This is a travesty!” “Whatever. The only travesty here is that Olaf hasn’t pinned him already and ended his ‘potentially’ short wrestling career.” Finally, Arne gets back on the steps, allowing Kivell to turn his attention towards Olaf, who has pulled Blue Leaf up to his feet. Whipping him to the other side, Olaf moves towards the center of the ring, catching him in a facelock on the way back and planting his head into the mat with a powerful DDT! The crowd boos as he rolls the rookie over and goes for a pin. “One!” “Two-“ and the Canadian kicks out, getting a big reaction from the crowd! Undaunted, Olaf simply pulls him back up, giving him a taste of his home country by giving him a Canadian Uppercut! The rookie’s head snaps back, but Olaf keeps a hold of him for another reminder of his homeland! The Irish crowd, obviously irritated by the Swede, start hurling insults again, making him pause for a second and shout something in his native Swedish. He prepares to give him another uppercut, but Blue Leaf shows some life with a hard palm strike to his chin! Even taken by surprise, the Swede strikes back with a forearm to Blue Leaf’s face, but the rookie is undaunted as he nails him with a hard kick to the knee, which puts Olaf off balance. That is enough for Blue Leaf, as he rallies himself with a flurry of hard kicks, spinning around and NAILING him with a huge roundhouse kick to the jaw! “And he’s back! The kid might not be used to these sorts of tactics, but he can still hold his own in a straight up fight!” announces Francis as the crowd begins to well up behind the underdog. Olaf is spun around, falling on his hands and knees. The shameful Swede tries to lift himself up off the big hit, but stumbles back to the floor and slides out of the ring to the outside, where Arne waits for him. “And another little planning session between brothers,” Mak says sarcastically, “I’ve seriously never seen anyone who needs as much help as Olaf does.” “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to get a second opinion on strategy, especially from someone with more experience than him.” “Well, strategy or no-“ Mak starts, but cuts himself off as the crowd starts to build up to a roar. The Andersen brothers look over at the ring to see a 223 pound missile hurtling at them! “The Maple Leap!” Shouts Francis as the three crumble to the ground, with Arne nailing himself against the steel guardrail! “He took them both out when they least expected it!” Blue Leaf begins to pick himself off the ground first, and pulls up Olaf off the ground and shoves him in the ring. Meanwhile, Arne looks knocked out… Or at least out of it enough to not do anything while a few nearby Irish fans pour out some beer on his head. “Oh come on, how disrespectful is that!” cries King as a few of the SWF attendants at ringside come down and begin to drag Arne backstage for possible medical attention. “It’s as much respect as he deserves! It isn’t often that you see Arne Andersen knocked out with a single blow, but lets take another look at that hit.” On the screen, a picture-in-picture shot from an outside camera shows Blue Leaf leaping in and nailing both of them… and Arne stumbling back and nailing the back of his head on the steel guardrail while the larger picture shows Blue Leaf lining the Swede up with punches and kicks. “Yeah, I don’t think Arne is going to be making another appearance at ringside tonight,” chuckles Mak, “And rightfully so: Arne sho-HARPER KICK! Olaf is down!” The crowd gives a huge pop as Olaf hits the mat like a sack of autographed Peter Forsberg pucks, and Blue Leaf immediately goes for the cover. “One!” (One!) “Two!” (TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOO!) “Thre-“ And Olaf gets a shoulder up, getting an “Awwwww!” from the Irish crowd. But Blue Leaf doesn’t let his opponent get any rest. Fired up by the crowd, he pulls up Olaf, whipping him at the ropes. He leaps over him the first time, and as he comes back the second time he leaps into the air and plants his feet firmly into the jaw of Olaf! Olaf hits the ground like he took a shotgun blast to the face (Or maybe a Chris Pronger body check) while the Canadian almost lands on his feet! The crowd is roaring as the Canadian soaks in the cheers, firing up the Irish crowd as he backs off and puts his hands on his knees, waiting for the Swede to start getting up. Olaf starts to get up to his knees, but as soon as he sees the rookie charging at him, he slides out of the ring. Blue Leaf slows down and stops at the turnbuckle, motioning for the Scandinavian Charlatan to get back into the ring, but he doesn’t seem to want to accept the invitation. “Olaf is in big trouble here now, King,” Mak says with a grin, “Without Arne to give him ‘creative help’, he’s clearly outmatched by Blue Leaf.” “Oh, whatever. Mark my words, this Canadian Comet ripoff is going to lose it in the end.” With the Irish crowd jeering him at full force and Kivell counting down, Olaf is finally forced back into the ring, where (kindly enough) Blue Leaf lets him enter without harassing him. He goes back to the grappler stance that he had before, and moves in slowly. But rather than going low, he looks for the lockup, and gets it! He begins to maneuver for a side-headlock takedown, but the rookie pushes off and looks for an inverted facelock… but he can’t get it as Olaf ducks down. The nefarious Norsemen rolls forwards, his legs catching underneath the Canadian’s armpits! He drags him forwards and pins him to the ground in cradle roll! The crowd boos as Kivell dives down for the count! “See! I told you he’d get cocky!-“ “One!” “-He should have attacked when Olaf entered.- “Two!” “-Typical rookie mis-“ “Three-!!” KICKOUT! The crowd roars back as the rookie gives a strong kickout! “-DAMN IT! He should have had him!” Blue Leaf rolls to his feet right out of the kickout, turning around and immediately rushing the lone Andersen brother. He gets to him, but Olaf is too quick, and he ducks under the Superkick that he puts outs, bouncing off the ropes and coming back with a crossbody pin! “One!” “Two!” “Th-“ Another kickout! “Damn it, Olaf! Capitalize!” “I have to admit, he made a bad mistake by Blue Leaf there. I can understand trying to pull off a flash power move while Olaf isn’t expecting it, but Olaf wasn’t even stunned,” notes Mak, “Against anyone else, it could have been much worse than just a crossbody, and this match might have ended right there.” The two are already back to their feet, and this time Blue Leaf isn’t rushing it. The two slowly close on each other. Blue Leaf tries to open up with some strikes, but Olaf seems ready for them, ducking and weaving out of the way. He goes for a hard palm strike, but this time Olaf grabs it, using the momentum to hurl him at the ropes. Blue Leaf bounces off… but not far, as Olaf meets him with a running dropkick to the jaw! The Canadian spins clutching his face… and lands on the second rope! “Oh no…” “Oh yes, Mak!” squeals King as the Swede lines the rookie’s head up and runs forwards, clearing the top rope and nailing the Canadian across the back of the head with his leg! “Crescent Moon! Hell yeah!” The rookie flies back into the ring, holding his neck after being nailed with the rope-assisted guillotined leg drop. Meanwhile, Olaf gets up on the outside, and slides into the ring. Of course, he hints at going for the easy pin, walking over in the direction of the rookie… but instead, he nails him in the face with boots! The rookie tries to protect himself, and the crowd begins to boo as he pounds him for a few seconds before stepping up to the turnbuckle. “And we all know what follows a ‘Crescent Moon’, right Mak?” “Yes, King. And this REALLY doesn’t look good to for Blue Leaf…” The Swede gives a few flexes at the top while the young Canadian lies on the ground, and the Irish crowd pours the heat onto him as he starts the leap. “ECLIPSE!” shouts a happy Suicide King as Olaf takes flight, twisting and flipping towards Blue Leaf… “MISSES!” shouts a much happier Mak Francis, as Blue Leaf manages to roll out of the way before it hits! The crowd roars its approval! “Olaf took a little too much ‘crowd time’, and he pays for it in a big way!” “Yeah, well Beaver Lick is still in worse shape! He isn’t getting out of this that easily.” Indeed, both fighters aren’t looking good, and the crowd starts clapping as the two fighters begin to rise for what looks like the last hurrah in the fight. Once again, Blue Leaf is up first, and rushes forwards at Olaf… who catches his arm and sends him back towards the ropes! He sets his feet apart, preparing for a spinebuster… but the crowd pops big as Blue Leaf hurtles over top of him! The Canadian runs towards the ropes, and leaps to the second, springboarding off the second rope towards the turning Andersen brother. He locks his arm around his head and falls back, nailing him with a Tornado DDT that makes the crowd go bonkers! “True Blue! True Blue!” “Ah, damn it, Olaf!” The tired rookie shifts himself onto the top of nigh-unconscious Norseman, and the referee dives in for the count. “ONE!” (ONE!) ”TWO!” (TWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) “THREE!” DING DING DING! The crowd roars as the young man releases the pin, and he slowly stands up to have his hand raised in victory by Kivell! “The winner… BLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUE LEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAF!!!” “Well, King, talk about a great match for the rookie. He showed a bit of roughness, but he definitely has a lot of talent.” “Meh. Olaf is 0 for the century right now. If it takes him that much of an effort to be a jobber like Olaf, he has no chance in this fed.” “You can downplay it all you want, but it definitely looks like this kid has a future in the federation. And for your future, stay tuned for more SWF wrestling action!”

After the advertisement for “Kid Cools Brand Skinless Vienna Frankfurters” fades out, we cut to the announcers seated at ringside. (Mak) Alright, let’s get this show rolling with a little New Blood action. [King] We’ve got one of the OAOAST’s leftovers Calvin Szechstein taking on… that Fulminatus thing. (Mak) Yes King, we saw Fulminatus last week taking on The Fabulous Jakey-- [King] If that’s what you want to call it. (Mak) True enough, Fulminatus failed to get a win over the Cruiserweight champ, but he’s got another chance to prove his stripes tonight in a first round match in the New Blood tournament. [King] So it’s all about Fulminatus now? What, do you think Calvin’s just out here wrestling for his health? (Mak) No, King, I don’t. Calvin Szechstein’s been on a bit of a losing streak here of late, and you can bet he damn sure means to get his cred back by advancing in the next round of the tournament. [King] Oh yeah, I just loooove this New Blood crap. Let’s give the new guys an incentive to rip each other to shreds just to get the tiniest amount of credibility around here. Wait a minute… that actually doesn’t sound half bad! (Mak) Let’s let Funyon do his job, huh King? [King] Beat the piss out of him, Szechstein! Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, mic in hand, and begins to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is part of the New Blood Tournament!” “EVERYOOOONE KNOOOOWS I’M IN OVERRRR MY HEAAAAD, OVER MY HEAD!!” “Over My Head (Cable Car)” by the Fray hits the loudspeaker and out walks Calvin Szechstein, carrying a microphone. The crowd boos spitefully as the man known as “Cadillac” walks down the ramp, wearing a white t-shirt with the words “Bratz: The Movie” “In Theatres August 3rd” emblazoned in large pink letters on the front and back. “Introducing first,” Funyon says “from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, weighing in at two hundred and three pounds, he is one half of The Cadillac Boys… CALVIN SZEEEECHSTEIIIIN!!” “Yes, yes, thank you, Funyon, thank you for that wonderful entrance!” the former tag champ states as he walks down the ramp. “Hello SWF! It’s great to be here! Now, I’m here tonight to annihilate this Fulminatus guy and get a little farther in the New Blood Tournament. Get some gold back around my waist.” He flashes the crowd a smile that makes them renew their verbal assaults on him. (Mak) Look up “smarmy” in the dictionary and you’ll find Calvin Szechstein’s picture right next to it. [King] Smarmy’s an actual word? I never knew it was, like a real word; I always thought it was just a slang word. (Mak) Nope, you can even look it up. Right there in Webster’s. [King] Meh, I always preferred “Diff’rent Strokes.” Szechstein continues, having now entered the ring. “But I’m also here to do a little business. So, there’s this absolutely fantastic family movie I’ve had brought to my attention… brought to my attention by about five figures, right?” Calvin tries to identify with the crowd, but they simply holler obscenities at him. He shrugs them off with his usual grace. “Anywho, this heartwarming family flick’s called ‘Bratz: The Movie’ and I want see all of you lined up in front of the theatre come August 3rd. I know I’ll be there!” The crowd simply tears Calvin apart for endorsing something so puerile. Funyon wrestles the mic from Szechstein and attempts to speak again. “And his opponent--” He is cut off by a sudden absence of light in the arena. The crowd murmurs until there is a loud flash of sparks on the entrance ramp. The opening chords of “Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida” rock the arena and the crowd is… more or less silent. Fulminatus steps through the curtain and shambles down the ramp, garnering a small manner of noise from the fans, mostly consisting of “Huh?” and “Now what the feck is thaht ting over der now?”. “Coming down the aisle, from… uhh… Everywhere… he weighs in at one hundred and ninety pounds… FULMINAAAATUUUUS!!” Funyon booms. In the ring, Calvin Szechstein takes off his “Bratz: The Movie” t-shirt and throws it to some lucky fan in the audience. “Cadillac” is then hit in the face only moments later by that very same article of clothing. Fulminatus walks down to the ring and over to the announcer’s table. He hands a manilla envelope to Mak and says simply “For you.” [King] What the hell did he just hand you? (Mak) A manilla envelope. It says “Fulminatus’ Moves” on the front. [King] He handed you a list of his moves? This guy’s friggin’ weird. The enigma finally gets into the ring and wobbles in his corner, awaiting the bell. He gives a rather elaborate bow to a rather puzzled Calvin Szechstein. DING DING!! Calvin starts the ball rolling by charging his opponent, but Fulminatus deftly steps out of the way of the charge, sending Szechstein hitting the turnbuckles hard. Fulminatus quickly grabs Calvin from behind, but the former tag champ quickly dislodges his opponent with a few hard elbows to the side of Fulminatus’ head. Fulminatus releases his hold on Szechstein and takes a few steps back, allowing “Cadillac” to hook his arm around Fulminatus’ head and lift him up and back down again with the snap suplex. Calvin stands and holds his arms up for the crowd before turning around and, much to his surprise, seeing that Fulminatus has already rolled to his feet. Before Szechstein can so much as shrug, Fulminatus leaps in the air and slams his foot into his opponent’s face, dropping him down to the mat. [King] That looked like it stung! Fulminatus moves over to his opponent’s head and hops, extending his legs out to nail Szechstein with a leg drop. Calvin rolls out of the way, leaving Fulminatus to land on nothing but the only partially forgiving mat. Szechstein gets up only a moment before Fulminatus and takes the opportunity to grab him by his mask and slam a knee into his face. “Cadillac” then grabs Fulminatus and whips him at the ropes, but Fulminatus reverses the whip and sends Szechstein bouncing instead. As he returns, he bends down his head to ram Fulminatus, but the masked man leaps in the air and avoids a collision with the former tag champ. Calvin bounces off the other side of the ring as Fulminatus collapses and rolls to his back. He catches Szechstein with his feet and flips him forward across the ring. (Mak) Nice showcase of both of these competitors’ speed. Fulminatus sending Calvin Szechstein to the mat with a monkey flip. [King] Check that list he gave you. See if he calls that monkey flip anything. (Mak) Alright, lets see. Man, there’s a lot of stuff in here… here it is. [King] That’s a piece of construction paper with crayon scribbles on it. (Mak) I know. He’s got his moves written on here. Even got little diagrams. Fulminatus rolls to his feet and quickly approaches Calvin Szechstein. Calvin stands and throws several hard elbows to the midsection of Fulminatus. Szechstein then moves behind Fulminatus and throws his arms around his waist, lifting him off the mat with all his might in a German suplex. Fulminatus completes the flip and lands standing on his feet. Calvin turns around and swings a big right hand at his opponent, who casually ducks out of the way. He swings with a left, but Fulminatus’ strange balance positions him out of the way of the blow once again. (Mak) Fulminatus definitely has a knack for avoiding those punches. Always twisting out of the way. It’s like he’s a gyroscope, King. [King] You know, Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down. Szechstein swings once more, but Fulminatus simply drops to a sitting position on the ground. “Cadillac” looks down at the peacefully seated Fulminatus and receives a palm thrust to the nose. Calvin holds his nose in pain, but hasn’t much time to grieve as Fulminatus briskly sweep kicks his legs out from under him. Szechstein falls to the mat and Fulminatus is quick to capitalize, moving over and grabbing Calvin’s head with his legs and squeezing. With the life being choked out of him, Szechstein struggles to free himself from the clutches of his opponent, flopping around on the ground in a desperate effort to escape. Finally, his leg reaches the bottom rope and the referee forces Fulminatus to break his hold. Fulminatus stands up quickly, bringing Szechstein to his feet along with him. Calvin attempts to fight back with several hard and not-too-legal closed fists to Fulminatus’ midsection, sending his opponent even farther off balance. Szechstein begins to build up a head of steam now as he throws more of his hard strikes to Fulminatus’ face, keeping a tight grip on his costume to prevent him from slipping away. Calvin then winds up for the big final punch, but then grabs his opponent’s head and locks on a rest hold. (Mak) Instead of finishing off Fulminatus, Calvin Szechstein locks on a headlock. Why? [King] The answer’s easy, Mak. He needs for Fulminatus to have absolutely no energy left for the rest of the match. He’s trying to choke the energy out of that twirling freak. The hold is short-lived though as Fulminatus simply drops to a seated position, bringing Calvin Szechstein’s chin down on Fulminatus’ shoulder. The crowd buzzes with excitement as Szechstein is staggered back, holding his jaw. Fulminatus stands and moves to Calvin, kicking him in the midsection and doubling him over. He hooks the arms of his opponent, leans his head back and yells “FNOOOOOOORRRRD~!!” before dropping Calvin Szechstein to the mat with a double arm DDT. [King] What the hell’s “fnord”? (Mak) I’m not sure, it’s scribbled all over his notes here. [King] Is that one of his moves? (Mak) I don’t think so. Not unless it’s this drawing at the bottom. [King] That’s a crayon drawing of a bunny eating a carrot. (Mak) You never know. The crowd gives a surprisingly large pop, although they’re entirely not sure why. Fulminatus quickly rolls over and makes the cover. ONE * * * TWO * * KICKOUT!! (Mak) And Calvin Szechstein kicks out at the count of two! Somehow managing to look disappointed even under a mask, Fulminatus stands and looks at his resilient opponent. He then moves towards his Szechstein’s feet and grabs one of them, but Calvin kicks his foot and knocks Fulminatus in the chest. Szechstein springs to his feet and goes on the offensive throwing left and right hands at Fulminatus’ masked face. With his opponent stunned, he whips Fulminatus into the ropes and upon his return, scoops him up and slams his back to the mat with a powerslam! (Mak) Nice powerslam by Szechstein. Szechstein stands up and raises his arms for the fans’ approval, but they respond only with a hail of boos. Seemingly not noticing the crowd’s dislike of him, Calvin escorts Fulminatus to his feet and throws a few quick elbows to his head to keep him stunned. The masked man suddenly awakens and responds with some elbows of his own and staggers the former tag champ. Fulminatus then runs to the opposite ropes and bounces off them, charging his opponent. “Cadillac” takes advantage of his circumstances and drops to the ground, grabbing Fulminatus’ feet and sending him crashing to the mat with a drop toe hold. Calvin Szechstein sees Fulminatus visibly grimace at the strain done to his left leg, and gets a wicked grin on his face. (Mak) I don’t think I like the look on Calvin Szechstein’s face. [King] Well I sure as hell do! Now he’s gonna start doing the smart thing and working Fulminatus’ bum leg. (Mak) We saw Fulminatus hurt his leg on Storm last week in his match against The Fabulous Jakey. Wrestling-wise it’s the smart move, King. As King prophetically declared, Calvin stands up and begins kicking Fulminatus’ left leg at the knee. Fulminatus quickly moves his legs out of the way and curls into a ball in the middle of the ring. Szechstein looks at the referee puzzled as the referee just shrugs his shoulders. The strange lump of orange and blue lays motionless in the ring as it’s curious opponent nears to inspect the curious object. As he leans over his opponent, a hand reaches up and chops him across the throat. Fulminatus unwinds himself and stands, moving toward his opponent with determination. (Mak) Umm… interesting… maneuver by Fulminatus. A little weird, maybe, but effective. He strikes Szechstein in the chest and neck with several quick strikes, staggering the former tag champ before inexplicably spinning in a circle in front of him. Fulminatus simply stands in front of Calvin Szechstein spinning in a circle as fast as he can. The crowd has absolutely no idea how to react to what’s happening in the ring. None. Although baffled, Szechstein decides not to give the masked freak the chance to finish doing whatever it was he was attempting to do. “Cadillac” steps back and swings his leg at Fulminatus’ knee, instantly dropping him to the mat. [King] Why the hell was he just spinning like that? (Mak) Your guess is as good as mine, King. Honestly, not a whole lot that Fulminatus does makes sense to me. [King] Look it up in that folder he gave you, there. (Mak) Sure. Wait… what’s the hell is this? Is that a picture of a Buddhist monk setting himself on fire? [King] That’s Fulminatus in the background! (Mak) The one giving the thumbs up? Calvin Szechstein grabs Fulminatus’ leg and drags him over to the ropes. He hooks Fulminatus’ foot around the middle rope and twists it around, causing Fulminatus to howl in pain. “Cadillac” wrenches his leg around the rope until the referee gives him the five count and he releases the hold. Fulminatus holds his leg in pain, but Szechstein gives him no time to recover as he immediately begins laying in heavy kicks to Fulminatus’ injured knee. The referee forces Szechstein off of his downed opponent, backing him up and berating him for using excess force. Fulminatus quickly gets to his feet, or as quickly as his injured leg will allow. Just as Szechstein shoves the referee out of his way, Fulminatus takes two steps and flips in the air smashing his boot upside Calvin’s head in a no-handed cartwheel. The crowd pops for the wild aerial move as Szechstein staggers back into the turnbuckle. (Mak) Amazing no-handed cartwheel by Fulminatus! Fulminatus quickly charges his opponent in the corner, but Calvin sees the attack coming and bends his head down. As Fulminatus approaches, Szechstein lifts his head up between Fulminatus’ legs and backdrops him all the way to the cold hard concrete below! Fulminatus lands badly on his already injured leg and crashes to the outside with a sickening thud as the crowd gasps. Fulminatus remains motionless on the ground in front of the ramp as the referee begins his obligatory ten-count. (Mak) Fulminatus just got sent to the outside by Calvin Szechstein with a big back body drop! [King] Holy hell! That may have been the most sickening sight I’ve seen since Mayor McCheese’s crucifixion. (Mak) God, you’ve been here a long time… On the outside, Fulminatus struggles to get on his good leg while Calvin Szechstein rolls to the outside, breaking up the referee’s count. Szechstein grabs his weak-legged opponent and helps him up. He then helps Fulminatus’ head into the ring post twice. “Cadillac” drags the near wounded Fulminatus back up onto the ring apron and follows him up. Calvin steps inside the ring just long enough to break the count and steps back through the ropes. Instead of rolling his opponent inside, he brings Fulminatus’ head between his legs and signals to the crowd that something big is going to happen. The crowd begins to buzz as Calvin Szechstein hoists the lighter Fulminatus up onto his shoulders in a sitting position. Szechstein goes to slam his opponent to the ground when Fulminatus regains his senses and instead locks his legs around Calvin’s head and sends him spinning to the concrete with a hurricanrana! He himself falls to the ground in an injured heap as the crowd screams wildly for the dangerous show. [King] Ok, I take that back. THAT may have been the most sickening sight I’ve seen since Mayor McCheese got crucified! (Mac) Calvin Szechstein gets taken down to the concrete outside with an amazing hurricanrana! It looks like both of these men have about zero energy left, now. Hopefully one of these guys will have the strength left to finish the match. [King] These two are just having fun beating the hell out of each other! Both men lay limp outside as the referee begins to shout out his count. “ONE!!” Neither man starts to stir for an uncomfortably long amount of time. “TWO!!” “THREE!!” Finally Fulminatus begins to twitch and eventually struggles to sit up. “FOUR!!” Calvin Szechstein sits up and shakes his head, grimacing in pain and holding his back. “FIVE!!” Both men struggle to their feet and begin to move towards the ring. “SIX!!” Suddenly, Fulminatus lashes out with a violent right hand and nails Szechstein upside the head. Calvin responds in kind and soon the two are exchanging blows at lightning speed. (Mak) These two men aren’t out of the fight yet, King! [King] It looks like they’ve still got some fight left in ‘em after all. “SEVEN!!” The crowd builds to a head as Fulminatus takes control of the fight, blocking Szechstein’s blows and throwing his own. “EIGHT!!” Fulminatus then takes the fight out of Calvin Szechstein by returning an earlier favor and bashing his head into the ring post. “NINE!!” Fulminatus then takes his opponent and rolls him into the ring, hopping up onto the ring apron gingerly. (Mak) That was absolutely brutal! It appears as though Szechstein may have simply been biding his time, because as Fulminatus lines up the kneeling man in front of him, “Cadillac” nails the masked man in the crotch with a low blow when the referee had his back turned. The crowd boos for the cheap maneuver, but Calvin Szechstein refuses to hear them. After a couple of very swift kicks to the knee, Szechstein whips his opponent across the ring. As Fulminatus very gingerly limp-runs back toward his opponent, Szechstein catches him and flips him upside-down and drops Fulminatus on his masked head. (Mak) That’s it! Szechstein hit The Pause that Refreshes! It’s over! [King] That move just looks nastier and nastier every time I see it. Szechstein rolls over and hooks Fulminatus’ bad leg for the cover. ONE * * * TWO * * * THR -- NO!! [King] WHAT?! The referee waves his arms wildly as “Cadillac” Calvin Szechstein picks his jaw up from the floor. The referee gestures to Fulminatus’ foot, which is placed carefully on the bottom rope. The crowd cheers remarkably loudly for the strange wrestler. (Mak) And Fulminatus gets his foot on the bottom rope at the last second! [King] This is crap. (Mak) I thought you hated Szechstein. [King] I do, but I don’t want Fulminatus to win either. I’m so torn! Szechstein is absolutely agape at the recent turn of events. He stands up and argues with the referee and flails his arms about wildly. The ref keeps telling him that Fulminatus had his foot on the ropes, but Szechstein is having none of it. He shoves the referee out of the way and grabs Fulminatus up by his clothes. Calvin makes a few disparaging remarks and then whips his limping opponent into the ropes, making it clear he’s going to try to hit The Pause that Refreshes again. As Fulminatus rebounds he leaps in the air and hits Calvin Szechstein squarely in the eyes with a Three Stooges eye poke. In fact, Fulminatus repeats this action three more times. On the third try, Calvin places his hand between his eyes to stop the poke, but the crafty Fulminatus waves his arms about in a confusing manner in front of Szechstein’s face and simply assaults his eyes with his individual hands, one finger each. The crowd chuckles at the ridiculous series of slapstick comedy maneuvers as Szechstein staggers about blindly. [King] Ok, now this is re-god-damned-diculous! Stooges moves? Are you kidding me/ (Mak) I’ve got nothing, King. Nothing. As Calvin Szechstein staggers about in the ring, swinging his arms frantically in hopes of hitting his opponent, Fulminatus limps over and slides out of the ring. [King] NOW what’s he doing? Fulminatus lifts up the ring apron and digs under the ring, clearly searching for something. Finally he finds it and starts to bring it out. [King] Tell me that’s not what I think it is… It is. Fulminatus drags out a full-sized cardboard cut-out of himself and carefully hops back in the ring. He carefully sets it up facing Szechstein and gingerly ascends the turnbuckles. Calvin Szechstein rubs his eyes and struggles to regain his vision. He then spots Fulminatus through his blurred vision and signals to the crowd that he is about to hit his Big Lariat! Szechstein charges and swings his arm hard, annihilating the large piece of cardboard. He staggers forward and then turns around to see what he hit. He holds the cardboard figure of Fulminatus close in front of his face and struggles to make out the image of his cardboard nemesis. His vision clears a bit more and he catches a glimpse of something blue and orange coming down from the lights at him, as Fulminatus leaps off the top rope with a senton bomb. Fulminatus nails his opponent directly in his dazed face and knocks him to the mat. Fulminatus grabs the cardboard cut-out of himself and places it over the chest of “Cadillac” Calvin Szechstein and then pins him himself. ONE * * * TWO * * * THREE DING DING DING!! (Mak) I’m not exactly sure that just happened. [King] Are you serious? He beat him with a god-damned cardboard cut-out? (Mak) Actually he beat him with the Confusion Bomb. [King] And how in the hell do you know that? (Mak) The list he gave me. [King] Oh… Funyon pipes up from ringside “Your winner of the match… FULMINAAAATUUUUS!!” The referee raises Fulminatus’ hand in victory and he leaves the ring, wobbling his way back up the ramp. In the ring, Calvin Szechstein comes to looks at the cardboard cut-out on top of him and throws it away from him, disgusted. (Mak) That was one of the most original ways a wrestler’s won here in years. [King] Szechstein seriously just lost to a cardboard cut-out… Unbelievable. (Mak) Well, we’ll have lots more exciting SWF action coming to you after a break, so stay tuned! [King] Hey, something fell out of the folder. (Mak) What is it? [King] It’s a picture of something. It’s Fulminatus and… (Mak) Is that him shaking hands with Lyndon LaRouche? * FADE *

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STOOOOORM! Live, Wednesday, June 27th, from the Odyssey Arena in Belfast, Northern Ireland! (6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - FINAL INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke vs. Johnny Dangerous --> How fitting that the final International Championship Match will be fought between the two icons of the division - Johnny Dangerous, who originally created the title and established its reputation for quality, and Jay Hawke, whose mammoth title reign speaks for itself. The winner of this match will be the final holder of the coveted International Title, and will go on to Ground Zero, to the Unification match! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Jimmy the Doom vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix -->This never said Manson. Really! Raynor's just a little slower on the uptake than everyone else in existence. In the meantime, Landon's been busted down the card, but curiously doesn't seem to bothered by it. And really, what's the point of knocking him down if he doesn't get all pissy about it? Clearly this must be fixed, and what better way to fix it that to have his head asplode at the hands of our ever-dominant Hardcore Champion? Rules: HRADKOR, unless another stip is requested. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Sly Booker's note: Do we have any official difference between Hardcore and hradkor? Because if not, we need to clearly define the two. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Tag Team Match of Randomness But Still Greatness Austin City Limits (Alan Clark and Austin Sly) vs. Raynor Skelter (Chris Raynor and MANSON) --> Austin Sly done good last show, and management thinks there are big things in his future... one of those good things could be a chance to team with the current World Champion! Although most of us would consider sharing a lockerroom with a guy who sings Hakuna Matata in the shower wouldn't really be a step up... MEANWHILE, on the other end of the universe, two souls desperately looking for love in all the wrong pla-... hang on, wrong card... two guys in need of something to do, with tag expertise to boot, pair up. That works. Rules: Standard tag. Tag ropes or die! Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IN THE HOUSE OF MARVELOUS: Michael Alexander! --> The other half of the winning New Bloods gets a chance to work the stick as Sir Marvelous plays host to the man who has a lot of nicknames that take a lot of space to type up, Michael Alexander! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Saintly C. Killa vs. Ced Ordonez --> Enough about what didn't go down last show - let's talk about what did. Namely, Saint C. Killa took his first round match handily, and has a spot in the semifinals! While the other half play catch up, we need to keep him in tune, so tonight the Killa takes on the (DDR) Thrilla, Ced Ordonez! Rules: Singlezzz. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW BLOOD CHAMPIONSHIP INAUGURAL TOURNAMENT - FIRST ROUND MATCH Blue Leaf vs. Olaf Andersen --> Blue Leaf gets a lucky break into the tournament, snatching up the second vacated spot to take on Olaf Andersen! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW BLOOD CHAMPIONSHIP INAUGURAL TOURNAMENT - FIRST ROUND MATCH Fulminatus! vs. Calvin Szechstein --> Adonis and JRR were held up by some incident involving rakes on a train, so we had to find a quick fill, and find we have! The second half of round one gets a do-over tonight, with Fulminatus taking Calvin Szechstein! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Big card, so of course holes will be there. I expect much of the missing material to appear by tomorrow morning. Also appearing tomorrow morning will be the card, mainly because whether or not certain materials appear will greatly influence what the card will be. MYSTERIOUS MYSTERY~! Loved the promoage tonight.

So it didn't occur to me until just now - my super ultra mega awesome brand spankin' new laptop doesn't come with MS Word or any equivalent. I'm fine typing matches in Notepad, but Notepad doesn't have a Word Count function. I don't really feel like counting by hand, so does anyone know where on the interwebs I can go to fix this problem? Testing.

If you want the real manly man SWF Chat Client, hit 'Drea or me up on AIM and we'll send it to you.

Stylistically, I've got no complaints, but a number of itty bitty inconsistencies caught my attention. Stuff like: (Mak) The crowd sure isn’t sure what to make of Fulminatus, King. Neither do I, for that matter. I'm a dork for making something of this, but it should either be "The crowd isn't sure what to make of Fulminatus, King. Neither am I," or "The crowd doesn't know what to make of Fulminatus, King. Neither do I." Just tiny details like that here and there stood out. On the plus side, you did a great job of getting Fulmie over as a whackjob, and I dug the no-handed Cartwheel kick. Good stuff.

See, Drea, that's how you post a comic. Why can't you be more like Akira?

It don't not work, but if it's the one Akira's pimping over AIM, then I've seen it, and I wubs it.

I believe everything is in order. Tentative due date is still Wednesday, but if everyone yells at me for the late card you can probably get me to push it to Thursday. EDIT: When I say everything is in order, I of course mean there about a dozen problems that you all need to point out to me. So hop to it.

Spike vs. Zyon is up.

Toxxic vs. Manson is up.

SWF Storm returns live from the Braehead Arena in beautiful Renfrewshire, Scotland! After a long night of action (and a beekeeper match…), the show comes to a head as the main event is underway. “Welcome back fans to SWF Storm!” gleefully shouts the Franchise. “We are live from Renfrewshire, Scotland!” “Get away from me, damn it!” shouts The Suicide King as several ravers stand behind him, waving around glow sticks. “How come we always have to go to the weird arenas, Mak?” “I don’t book them, King. But anyway, up next is our main event!” “And you know what that means, right, Mak?” “We’re about to get some great wrestling action?” “No…” "Please Stand Clear of the...." “It means MORE Alan Clark!” “Oh joy…” Red, white, and gold spotlights flicker and flash around the arena slowly as "To Die For" from The Lion King thumps to life. The SmarkTron flashes shots of Alan Clark's steady career climb - flashing all of his various championship wins before finally showing a live shot of the stage as a spotlight hits the ramp to show Alan Clark emerging from the darkness, championship around his waist and Walter Reynolds in tow. “Fans, our main event does not involve Alan Clark, but he is so kindly gracing us with his presence at the announcers booth for this match.” “It’ll give me a break from dealing with you and talking to someone with intelligence!” Alan makes his way down to the ringside area and around the ring towards the announcers’ table. Unstrapping the SWF World Heavyweight Championship from around his waist, he throws it over his shoulder as he takes a seat next to Mak Francis, leaving the paraplegic sandwiched by the two egomaniacs. Reynolds stands over Clark, protecting Disney’s investment. “King, Francis, how are you two doing tonight?” “A lot better now that you’re here, Clark!” “Oh, King,” chuckles the World Champion. “Don’t be so modest…but I know it’s true.” “Am I going to have to sit here all night and listen to this?” Mak Francis sighs. The camera cuts to the ring where Funyon stands. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is YOUR main event of the evening! First, making his way to the ring at this time…” "I'M BORN" "I'M ALIVE" "I BREATHE" Incubus' "Vitamin” blasts through the PA system, causing the crowd to come alive for the Unique Youth. Zyon charges out from behind the curtain and stands at the top of the ramp. "Hailing from Elkhart, Indiana and weighing in at a two hundred pounds! He is "THE UNIQUE YOUTH"... ZZZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOONNN!!!!" “ZYON! ZYON! ZYON!” Pausing to soak up the warm reaction, Zyon flicks the hair from his eyes and stares down into the ring. He breaks forward into a sprint and soars to the apron. Entering the ring, he climbs the ropes to salute his fans. Up goes the X, followed up with an arms aloft pose that would exude arrogance from anyone less adored than Zyon. “I don’t think this match deserves a history lesson as you can just feel the tension between these two whenever they are around each other…but I think I’m going to give the fans at home one,” begins Mak Francis. “A little over a year ago, these two men were best friends and tag team partners and almost claimed the SWF World Tag Team titles on a couple of occasions…” “But never did!” Alan Clark makes sure to interrupt. “No, they never did. But after awhile, Spike Jenkins grew enraged and jealous of Zyon and abruptly turned his back on his best friend. But not only that, Spike Jenkins actually tried to kill Zyon, which lead to Zyon defeating Spike in a Street Fight several months back! Now fans, I know what you are thinking, why are we letting these two go at each other one more time after Spike tried to murder Zyon. The answer is that Spike was fired from the SWF for his actions and has proven himself to not be in that state of mind anymore. This is his one and only shot and I’m sure he isn’t going to blow it away.” “He’s Spike Jenkins…he isn’t going to blow anyone away, which is why I am not worried about defending my World Heavyweight Title against him or anyone!” Zyon stands in the middle of the ring, awaiting his opponent. The lights begin to flicker around the arena as the violent guitar riffs and the blaring trumpets of Emmure’s “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong” blast through the PA system. RAHAHAHAHAHAHA! The horrifying shriek of a laugh from lead singer Frank Palmieri sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in attendance. I hope this is a passing phase. There is no future where I stand, Here with you! The lights on the stage begin to flicker on and off. The audience begins to stomp their feet and clap their hands as they await The New Straight Edge Sensation. A small, but audible “Spike…Spike…Spike” chant breaks out inside Braehead Arena. This Is… …The End! With that, the crowd goes into frenzy as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps out from behind the curtain. Now sporting short hair and a Five O’clock shadow and wearing an official SWF Spike Jenkins (SWFShopZone.com) black “Heartless” zip-up sweatshirt, Jenkins stomps down the ramp towards the ring. “And his opponent! Coming to the ring, hailing from Long Island, New York! Weighing in at One Hundred and Ninety-five pounds…he is ‘Hollywood’ SPPPPPPPPPPIKE JEEEEEEEEENKINNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!” Jenkins stomps down the ramp, unzipping the sweatshirt and tossing it to the side. Climbing up the steel steps, he slowly climbs onto the ring apron. Carefully watching his opponent, he steps into the ring… …And Zyon immediately charges at him. Spike doesn’t waste one second as he dives forward at Zyon’s legs and takes him down to his back with a double leg takedown! Referee Hardcastle is taken by surprise by the sudden start of the match. Calling for the bell, he dives into position. “And this match is underway with a bang!” *Ding Ding Ding* Zyon struggles underneath Spike, trying to shake himself free, but Jenkins stays on top of him. Using his newfound Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu skills, Jenkins tries to position himself on top of Zyon. Zyon shifts his weight around, trying to move himself over towards the ropes. Spike uses one free hand to grab the back of Zyon’s head and pulls it towards him…and drives the point of his elbow from his other arm straight into the forehead of Zyon! Zyon breaks free from Spike’s grip and kicks his legs up, forcing Spike up to his feet. With Jenkins temporarily out of the way, Zyon shoots for the ropes and rolls out to the floor. “Jenkins looks like to have gotten an elbow to the face in on that exchange…and that may have been all he needed! I think Zyon has been busted open!” Spike quickly rolls out of the ring, following right behind the Unique Youth. Spike grabs Zyon by the back of the hair, whips him around and throws him into the ring apron! Blood beginning to trickle down the forehead of Zyon, the former Cruiserweight champion is not in a good place at the moment. Grabbing him by the back of the head again, Spike whips Zyon around and tosses him back first into the announcers’ table! “Hey! Hey!” shouts the Suicide King. “Get out of here! I have everything set up the way I want it and you’re just going to ruin it!” With Zyon’s chest exposed, Spike leans back and… *CRACK* …Fills the arena with the echo of skin-on-skin with a knife-edged chop. Zyon yelps in pain, trying to get out of the way, but Spike pushes him back in place. Looking directly at the World Heavyweight Champion, who just so happens to be sitting at the announcers’ table. Pulling his arm back, Spike lashes his open palm against Zyon’s chest, sending another high-pitched knife-edge chop into the Unique Youth. *CRACK* Spike grabs Zyon by the back of the head again, drags him to the ring and rolls him underneath the bottom rope. Turning back and taking one last glance at the World Heavyweight Champion, Spike slides in under the bottom rope back into the ring. “You know what, King? Spike Jenkins can come out here and he can chop Rikard Fleihr, he can chop Zyon, hell, he can come out here and chop down giant Red Oak trees for all I care. I am the SWF World Heavyweight Champion OF THE WORLD! He is going to have to do a little more than that to impress me.” “Since his return, he has done nothing but unimpress me!” The Suicide King chimes in. “You weren’t impressed with how he dismantled Rikard Fleihr?” “Not really, Mak. Not really.” Inside the ring, Spike climbs to his feet. Reaching down, he pulls Zyon up by his hair… …But Zyon inside cradles him! ONE! TWO! THR---NO! Spike kicks out! “Zyon almost picked up the win right there!” Spike shoots up to his feet, just as Zyon rolls over onto his knees. As Zyon goes to stand up, Spike shoots a leg out, connecting with a stiff kick right to the chest that knocks Zyon right back down to the mat. “Who would you like to see win this match, Alan?” “Neither. I wish I could get in the ring right now and smack them both around!” “…And you never cease to amaze me.” Jenkins reaches down and pulls Zyon up to his feet. Grabbing him by the wrist, he Irish whips the youngster across the ring into the opposite corner. Spike takes a second to line him up and charges into the corner… …And drives his boots directly into the face of The Unique Youth with a running yakuza kick! “You have to admit, Clark. Jenkins has come back stronger, nastier, and more focused than ever!” “Why do I have to admit that? Because you two are BFFL’s?” “No, because you may be the next person he kicks in the face!” “…Thanks for that, Mak.” Zyon stumbles out of the corner, but Jenkins is right behind him. Grabbing him underneath the arm and hooking it behind the head with a half nelson, he lifts Zyon straight up into the air and drives him back down towards the mat across his knee! “Half-nelson backbreaker by Spike!” Zyon folds in half across the knee, lying there in writhing pain. Spike effortlessly pushes him down to the mat and places an elbow across the face as he covers him! ONE! TWO! THRE---NO! Zyon kicks out! Spike sits up; obviously annoyed that he couldn’t get the three. “Zyon has been busted open and has taken a lot of punishment so far in this match, and yet, finds the will to kick out.” Spike climbs up to his feet and pulls Zyon up with him. Zyon, however, pushes Spike away. Spike stumbles backwards, but quickly goes back on the attack…but Zyon catches him first with a forearm to the face! Stunned, Jenkins stands there as Zyon launches two more forearms to the head! Zyon turns his back to Spike and charges into the ropes. He leaps onto the middle rope and slingshots himself back towards Spike with a crossbody… …But Spike catches him in mid-air! Holding him in a body slam position, Spike lifts him up and drops him down onto his feet, still holding the Unique Youth in a reverse front-face lock. From here, Spike twists his body around and down to the mat, forcefully wrenching the neck of Zyon and slamming him face first into the mat! “Clean Living!” shouts Mak Francis. “We haven’t seen that on SWF television in almost a year!” “Because he hasn’t been around for a year to do it…” Still holding onto Zyon’s neck, Spike rolls backwards off the mat and over onto his feet. Wrenching back on Zyon’s head, Spike keeps one arm locked underneath the neck and pulls back with a Dragon Clutch! “The Silver Lining! The Dragon Sleeper that Spike has used to defeat many opponents is locked in the center of the ring!” Zyon’s arms begin flailing around as he tries to break out of the hold. Spike pulls Zyon up to his knees, which the youngster tries to use to get up to his feet…but Jenkins quickly wraps both of his legs around the waist of Zyon and drops backwards to the mat, now leaving the Unique Youth nowhere to go. “Zyon is stuck in the Silver Lining! Unless he can make it to the ropes, he can’t escape!” With blood trickling down his face and air quickly being forced out of his body, Zyon has nothing left to do, except… *Tap Tap Tap* …Tap out. Referee Hardcastle immediately calls for the bell and tells Jenkins to break the hold. *Ding Ding Ding* “Spike Jenkins has defeated Zyon!” “Oh great…” “He has now picked up two wins since his return here in the SWF, Alan Clark. He just defeated a former World Title contender and he has his sights directly on you.” “Spike can have his sights set on me all he wants. The bottom line is I am not losing this title that I have around my waist. I worked too damn hard and too damn long for it.” Spike releases the hold on Zyon and rolls over onto his feet. Climbing up to a full stance, Referee Hardcastle holds his arm in the air as Funyon makes the official announcement. “Here is your winner, via submission, “HOLLYWOOD” SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE JEEEEEEEEEENKINNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!” The crowd cheers as Emmure’s “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong” starts up again. Jenkins walks past the body of Zyon over towards the ropes, looking down at the SWF World Heavyweight Champion. Alan Clark flings the headset off and rises to his feet. Taking the World Title in his hand, Clark lifts it high above his head, as if challenging Spike to come and take it. The two stand off as SWF Storm goes to an end. [FADE OUT] ©2007 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation 'Raising Workrate By Hitting People Harder'

“Crap! I’m running late,” Johnny mutters to himself while briskly heading for his locker room. Having just arrived he knew he didn’t have long to get himself ready for his International Championship qualifier tonight, but with gym bag in hand it shouldn’t take him long to change. All he needed to do now is to find the Wild and Dangerous locker room. He turns a corner, coming across the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, with the title belt snugly around his waist. Great, just what he needed. “Johnny!!” Alan Clark greets with a warm, tender smile. It’s almost the kind of greeting you’d expect to see someone give a friend they haven’t seen in quite some time, which makes it all the more repulsive for the Barracuda. Alan is certainly no friend of his, and any sort of mutual respect he might have held for the reigning World Champion was thrown out the window at 13th Hour. “What do you want!?” Johnny seethes back a reply, making no attempt to mask his contempt for Clark. “I haven’t got the time to play any of your games. Unlike you, *I* actually have a match to prepare for tonight.” Dangerous jabs his thumb into his chest. “I’ have...” Alan returns. His irritating smile is still shining brightly. “...for a shot at facing Jay Hawke for the International Championship. Isn't that the same belt that I successfully defended against you at From The Fire??” The World Champion chuckles ever so slightly until he looks up and sees the Barracuda staring blankly at him. “Nevermind,” Clark continues. “I just thought I'd ask you something before you ran out there tonight. Have you even thought about the fact that you, Johnny Dangerous, two-time former World Heavyweight Champion, have to fight for a chance to fight for the International Championship?” Again Dangerous just stares back, rather expressionless. Finally he drops his gym bag and steps a little closer to the Champion and snaps back a reply, “What the hell are you trying to say, Clark? I haven’t got time for this!” The dark lenses of Johnny’s high-tech shades may hide his eyes well, but Alan just knows the Barracuda’s eyes are burning with rage right now. “You don't get it?” Clark quizzically asks, “Tom Flesher is telling you that you are just not good enough to have that title shot against Jay Hawke automatically, or heck… even having that belt handed to you. It's the belt you created, against Landon Maddix no less! Then again, I guess what we are looking at is Jay Hawke's longevity against your genesis...and we know how you fair at Genesis when titles are concerned..." Johnny rolls his eyes, then swiftly pushes Clark up against the wall by the shoulders. “I’ve had just about enough of you, Clark! You forget that it took you and Landon both to eliminate me, but it’s just you and me now!” “I would suggest you back up” Alan whispers, pointing over his shoulder at his locker room door where no doubt Walter Reynolds is sitting. "You know I can't hit you right now, and you should be thanking yourself for that." He grabs the Barracuda’s hands and pulls them away from him, and then brushes himself off. Johnny pays the disrespect, at this moment, little mind. “I’m just the only one man enough to actually point out the facts that have been present all along. The fact, Johnny, is that you simply aren’t good enough anymore. You’ve lost your edge… your desire… something. Maybe you never even had it. Maybe it was all luck or maybe even just being in the right place at the right time. But now it's all about Alan Clark - the new attraction, the main event. I'm the big Florida Project - the spotlight is on me now. The Walt Disney World to your Cypress Gardens. you are nothing - broken, damaged, all up bankrupt." Johnny can be seen seething at Alan's monologue, "It is sad, but it’s the truth, Johnny. So you might as well quit embarrassing yourself. If people wanted entertainment in failure then Disney wouldn't be the powerhouse it is - and neither would I. Forget about the International Championship, forget about Jay Hawke, and do not even waste your time with any notions of trying to take this." Alan slaps the gold around his waist, and Johnny really needs to hold himself back from taking things further physically. He just grits his teeth in the face of the smirking Heavyweight Champ. “Let's just say that after tonight and next week...I will not be a waste of your time.” Dangerous replies as he grabs his gym bag and then walks past Clark, bumping his shoulder as he does. Johnny turns the corner and disappears as Walter Reynolds comes out of the World Champions locker room. “You okay? Who was that?" “Oh nobody Walt...Walter...just some washed up has-been..." As We: FADE OUT.

*DING DING DING!!!* “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon bellows as Storm returns from commercial break. “The following match, scheduled for one fall, is the International Championship qualifying match.” “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHH!” The crowd pops at the announcement and the ring announcer pauses long enough for them to settle. Once they quiet down he continues, “Entering first in this match…” Suddenly, Busta Rhymes “Call the Ambulance” pounds over the speakers, heralding the arrival of the House of Marvelous’ bodyguard. The enormous frame of Tracy Bruner emerges from backstage with Sir Marvelous at his side, and the crowd immediately lets out a thunderous jeer towards the two men. “From Brooklyn, New York, and weighing in tonight at four hundred-fifty five pounds; he is ‘BIG BULLY’ TRACY BRRRUNEEEEEEER!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Scotland doesn’t appear to have a lot of love for the Big Bully,” Mak Francis observes. Bruner quietly saunters down towards the stage, looking about as ferocious as ever while Marvelous follows closely behind, shouting at the fans lining the walkway with words that could never be uttered on network television. Tracy climbs into the ring, raises his arms up and cuts loose with a tremendous battle cry. As expected, the fans reply with their own chant: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “BRUN-ER SUCKS!” “BRUN-ER SUCKS!” “BRUN-ER SUCKS!” “These fans might not appreciate Tracy Bruner right now,” Suicide King adds, “but I think they’ll learn to respect him a whole lot more when this match is done with. He’s one of the few people that can make a successful fast track towards the World Championship on brute strength alone.” “You might be right there,” Mak agrees. “However, you’re greatly discounting the ability of his opponent. Johnny Dangerous is no stranger to being out sized and he’s come through numerous times before - he’s very experienced with this sort of situation and I wouldn’t be shocked in the least if he comes up with the victory.” “In order to win this match Johnny would actually have to come up with a good game plan,” the Gambling Man says, “which is something he lacks the skill to do.” “I wouldn’t be so quick to rush to judgment, King. He did pretty well against Danny Williams, and he’s certainly no lightweight.” “You heard what Alan Clark said earlier,” Suicide King reminds his announcing cohort. “Normally I’d never side with a man who parades around in enough Disney gear to start his own Disney outlet store, but he is our World Heavyweight Champion.” “Like that’s ever mattered when Landon was the Champion,” Mak Francis coolly replies. “Whatever,” the Gambling Man lets the comment roll off him like water off a ducks back. “Alan is right though – Johnny Dangerous made his rise in the SWF off sheer luck, but everyone’s passed him by because they have the true talent to make it big in the SWF. Luck will only get you so far but talent will take you to the top. Besides, when I look at Johnny Dangerous I can’t see the World Title around his waist.” “Maybe that’s because it currently resides around Alan Clark’s waist.” Suicide King just stares at Mak Francis. If he hadn’t vowed in front of the Virgin Mary not to strike a man in a wheelchair, Francis would be face down on the floor in a pool of his own self esteem right about now. “You don’t know how lucky you are right now,” he seethes through gritted teeth. It’s probably best that the arena goes dark. A video begins on the Smarktron. It displays an image of a fuse fizzling down towards a stick of dynamite, and the Mission Impossible theme (as performed in a rockin’ style by the James Taylor Quartet) starts ringing out around the arena! The opening to the song sounding very much like a time-bomb alarm sounding off before exploding and then that popular groove that everyone knows… and just before the music swings into full gear to launch the crowd into a frenzy- “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” -a deep, sultry voice breathes the name of the SWF’s secret agent over the speakers- *BOOOOOOM!* -and only THEN does the music hit as an explosion of fireworks literally rocks the entrance stage! Finally, through all the vibrant lights and the cloud of smoke comes the Barracuda, silhouetted by the strobes with occasional flashes reflecting off his high-tech shades as he turns his head from side-to-side, looking out at his crowd. “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” Though numerous people have tried their hardest to put the Barracuda down in the eyes of the viewer, their faith remains and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. He slowly turns his head so that his vision has a clear shot of the ring and the mammoth of a man inside it. Right now, Tracy Bruner is the one thing stopping him from a shot at the International Championship, and he looks back at Johnny with a shit-eating grin on his face as he pantomimes a title belt around his waist. It’s time to show that a little faith can go a long way. Johnny heads towards the ring. “Dead man walking,” the Gambling Man mutters. Mak shamefully shakes his head. “From Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in tonight at two hundred-twenty five pounds; he is one half of the current and reigning SWF World Tag Team Champions… he is JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DAAAANGEEEROOOOUUS!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” Holding out his arms, Dangerous salutes his crowd before climbing into the ring. Once inside he unclasps the Tag Team Championship belt from around his wait and hands it off to Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington, the official for this match. The referee hands off the belt, checks to make sure that Sir Marvelous is out of the ring, and then signals for the bell. *DING DING DING!!!* “There’s the bell,” Mak announces. Johnny bravely steps forward, coming nose to chest with Marvelous’ bodyguard. He hasn’t forgotten the powerbomb he received from Bruner last week – an attempt to strike fear into the heart of the Barracuda no doubt, but Dangerous isn’t about to let that affect him. He looks right into Bruner’s eyes with a look of burning rage. “It’s like watching a scene out of the Green Mile,” Suicide King chuckles as Tracy Bruner looks down on his much smaller opponent. “Somebody fit Johnny with a prison guard outfit!” Johnny Dangerous’ fearless attitude: boldly standing toe-to-toe with this monster is enough to get the crowd buzzing with excitement, but all it does for Bruner is make him chuckle. In his mind Johnny Dangerous is nothing more than the first of three small steps towards becoming the World Champion. It’s time to get on with it. *SMACK!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Surprisingly, Dangerous doesn’t see Big Bully’s opening attack coming and it emerges in the form of an open handed slap across the face, which gets the fans booing heavily! Johnny’s face is knocked sideways and he stumbles a few steps with the blow, but then he quickly returns fire! “CRACK!* “CRACK!* “CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!” “The Barracuda unloads with a round of lighting quick right hands to Bruner’s noggin!” Mak shouts. “Johnny is definitely known for packing some power behind his punches, but I’m not so sure it’s going to do much damage here.” Johnny quickly retreats several steps backwards after landing the blows. He knows better than to overestimate the amount of damage he’s going to be able to inflict on his opponent. even knowing this though, it doesn’t stop him from striking a martial arts pose and beckoning Bruner on, getting a good reaction from the fans. However, his boldness doesn’t impress the Big Bully at all, “-and I hope he’s good at dodge ball cause all he did was anger Tracy Bruner,” says Suicide King. “He’d better tuck his tail and run!” Bruner heads after Johnny, looking to sink his claws deep into the Barracuda’s hide. Johnny isn’t about to simply stand there and wait for Bruner to attack him though - he takes several quick strides backwards, trying his hardest to avoid getting caught dead in his tracks. “Come on!” Johnny shouts loud enough for everyone in attendance to hear as he retreats backwards. “Right now it appears that Johnny is going to try and dodge Bruner until an opening turns up for him,” the Franchise supposes. “He might be on to something here after all.” “Please,” King waves off Francis’ speculation. “Back in Bruner’s hometown of Brooklyn, this is what’s called being a scared little bi(beep!)ch. I’m sure he’s dealt with these types before and knows exactly how to handle them.” Having finally caught up with the Barracuda, Tracy lunges for his opponent. However, after Johnny’s in ability to dodge his opening attack it’s a little surprising to him that the Barracuda is able to escape this one. Johnny quickly ducks and rolls out of Bruner’s reach- *CRACK!* -and then jams his fist into Tracy’s head, right in his temple, “-and there’s that opening we talked about,” Mak proudly says. Bruner’s head is jolted to the side but he quickly snaps it back around, and comes after Johnny once more. “If he can keep this up he just might be able to take Bruner down with a much easier fight than what I imagined.” Again Bruner reaches out, growling angrily as he tries to snatch the Barracuda up by his neck, but Johnny is just as nimble as before and he quickly strafes to the side before jamming another fist into the side of Bruner’s head! Once more, Johnny takes several quick steps back, making sure there is plenty of distance between Bruner and himself. “This is going to be one heck of a long, boring match at this rate,” says King. “If Dangerous’ plan is to slowly wear Tracy down with those hits it’s a pretty stupid plan – those punches are about as useless as shooting bb’s at a whale!” “Maybe Johnny’s plan is to wear Bruner down be forcing him to keep up with his pace,” Francis proposes in reply, which appears to be most likely. Johnny hollers for Bruner to draw closer and the Big Bully storms after him, determined to swat Johnny like the pest that he is. His anger is starting to boil, so It’s times like this that it’s good to have someone else thinking for you. In his case, it’s Michael Anderson, better known as Sir Marvelous, and he quickly hops up to the apron to admonish Bruner. “Stop chasing him!” Marvelous shouts, but before he can offer up any more coaching advice Herrington orders him off the apron. Marvelous obliges, but only for the time being. “Hopefully, it was enough to get his client on the right track,” Suicide King says. “Bruner needs to let Johnny come to him, and when the Barracuda comes he can break Johnny in half.” However, Dangerous isn’t so open-minded to the thought of close quarters combat just yet. He tries another ploy, striking another martial arts pose in hopes of getting Bruner going, but all it does is get the fans riled up as Tracy stands in place defiantly. “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” Apparently Johnny needs to switch to a plan B. He smiles and the shrugs his shoulders, before suddenly rushing his opponent to the joy of the fans. Bruner swings his fist out, but Johnny ducks down and pivots his foot to fluidly move into a roundhouse kick, and his foot finds its way into the Big Bully’s abdomen! Not surprisingly, Bruner doubles over and clenches his gut. Even a man of his size needs his air in his lungs to function properly, but it also leaves him wide open – unintentionally of course. Johnny quickly takes off across the ring, planning on taking full advantage of his opponent, but when he speeds back off the ropes, closing in on Bruner like a speeding bullet- *WHAM!* -Tracy unleashes a powerfully swift lariat! Even this man who prides himself on having the best reflexes in the business didn’t even see it coming, and it knocks him flat on his ass! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Ha!” Suicide King snorts as Johnny--clenching his neck with both hands—tries to scramble back onto his feet. “Now that’s exactly what I was talking about!” Bruner grabs hold of Johnny by his arm and then slings the Barracuda around to slam his forehead into Dangerous’! A mighty “CRACK~!” rings out from the hit and the crowd “OOOOOH’s!” a response as the Barracuda stumbles backwards. Again Bruner grabs hold of Dangerous by his arm to keep him upright as well as within reach, only this time he forcefully jerks Johnny towards him to nail the Barracuda with a standing lariat! *WHAM!* This time Johnny Dangerous goes down and stays down. On the outside of the ring, Sir Marvelous couldn’t possibly be more delighted. He hollers at Tracy to pin the Barracuda. “Here comes a cover,” says King. Bruner drops to his knees and applies a lateral press, and Herrington makes his first count for the match for: ONE! TWO! NO! Johnny kicks out! Johnny rolls up to his feet and heads for the corner. He’s a little dazed from the tremendous hits Bruner dished out to him so he hopes a little distance can give him enough time to gather his bearings. It’s unfortunate for him that the second he checks back over his shoulder he sees Bruner charging towards him from across the ring! He quickly ducks down and skirts out of the corner as Tracy makes an ill fated avalanche attempt on him, and instead mashes his chest into the top of the turnbuckle padding. Lesser men might have been stunned after this, but the Big Bully easily shakes it off and heads out of the corner for his opponent. “This is what you call getting the hell out of dodge,” Suicide King snickers. Johnny frantically heads for the opposite side of the ring to avoid Bruner, but the Big Bully heads after him with a psychotic grin on his face, “-and apparently Bruner’s getting a little too much amusement from chasing him out of town.” “He’d better not let himself get too caught up in the moment,” Mak warns, “or he could end up wearing himself out.” “Not likely,” King waves off. Johnny finally comes to the ropes. There isn’t anywhere else to go but he feels like he’s shaken the cobwebs, so he races towards his opponent like a man shot out of a cannon. Bruner swings out his arm with a lariat strong enough to knock the head off a statue, but Johnny ducks down just enough to avoid the blast. His jet-black mane lightly brushes Tracy’s bicep as he whizzes past and heads for the opposite end of the ring. Bruner is forced to quickly spin around to catch the Barracuda in time as he comes back off the ropes for a second time. He won’t give Dangerous the opportunity to dodge another lariat and instead offers up a big boot to the Barracuda’s chest! *CRACK!* “OOOOOOOH!” The crowd winces at the hit! Dangerous is knocked on his back again, but this time Bruner ends the exchange with a huge exclamation point in the form of an elbow drop, and with gravity dragging 455lbs down with it the fans are forced to turn away when the point of his elbow slams into Johnny’s sternum! Bruner quickly crawls over the Barracuda and drops his weight on top of Johnny. If the hits weren’t enough to put Dangerous away than at least he can pin the Barracuda’s shoulders to the mat with his weight alone. Herrington drops to count for: ONE! TWO! T-NO!! Though ever so slightly, Johnny has enough room to thrusts his arm out to raise his shoulder off the mat. Thankfully, for Johnny Dangerous, it’s enough to end the count. Somewhat livid, Bruner drags the Barracuda back up to his feet and unloads with a searing, knife-edged chop, lighting up Johnny’s chest! Dangerous stumbles back, clutching his chest- *SMACK!* -and Bruner easily connects with a backhand across Johnny’s face, sending a stream of spit flying out of the side of Johnny’s mouth! *SMACK!* And another backhand connects. Right now Johnny isn’t making any attempt to avoid these hits. All his body can do is stumble away, but Tracy spares no expense to keep up with his chase; each hit that connects sends Johnny stumbling around the ring. “As you can see here,” Suicide King explains, “it doesn’t take much for Bruner to take control and start dominating. He doesn’t need to be able to keep up with his opponents; once he catches you you’re dead – that’s it.” “Then how come he hasn’t pinned the Barracuda yet?” “Well first he’ll humiliate you, as we can obviously see going on here now.” Johnny staggers to the side and falls into the ropes. He tries to get back to a vertical base as fast as possible, knowing that his opponent is trying to press him. When he spins back around towards Bruner he’s hit with another backhand across the face, which catches him before he’s gained full control of his balance and he goes scrambling backwards into the ropes. Still Bruner closes the distance, keeping the full court pressure in effect and he grabs Dangerous by the neck to drag him out of the ropes. “Finish this!” Marvelous shouts at Bruner, once again he gets up to the apron until Herrington heads in and barks at him to get down. However, Bruner isn’t ready to put an end to this just yet. He wants to make sure the World Champion sees what he has to look forward to. Tracy grabs Dangerous and picks him up, holding him high over his head with a military press. He stands there, triumphantly displaying Johnny Dangerous to the crowd like a trophy kill from his latest safari as he sweats profusely, and maybe it’s the bright lights bearing down on him that have added to his perspiration but it looks every bit like he just chased the Barracuda through the jungle to catch him. “Right now it’s all about leaving a lasting impression,” says King. “He already has the Barracuda beat the second he takes the pin, but he wants everyone to see the kind of monster they’ll have to deal with.” Bruner starts doing some reps with the Barracuda, which gets the crowd going against him rather heavily. Anderson isn’t happy to see this going on though, “-apparently Marvelous wants the match in the bag and he wants it now,” says Francis. “It might be good for Bruner to heed his advice.” “Finish this now!” Marvelous shouts at Bruner. He maintains his distance this time, staying on the outside of the ring as he attempts to coach his client. Finally, Bruner drops Johnny behind him, letting the Barracuda drop… but not without Johnny snatching Bruner by his head on his way down- *WHAM!* -and dragging Bruner down with him for a falling neck-breaker! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHH!!” An explosion of cheers comes from the crowd, while Marvelous roars in horror! He can’t believe Bruner just gave up an opening that large! It might not be as detrimental to his client as it appears though; Dangerous isn’t very quick to get himself moving after hitting the canvas. Nonetheless, the crowd starts to rally behind him with a huge chant. “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” Finally, the Barracuda is up. He’s a little dazed still but he has enough sense about him to try and get himself back into this match, even if Bruner is back up as well. Tracy storms towards the Barracuda, steaming mad, and when he gets halfway to Johnny he rushes in for the kill! He swings out his arm for another huge lariat, and with the lack of ability Johnny’s shown to be able to avoid these hits recently this one should put his lights out! *WHOOSH~!* NO! Johnny dives out of the way and rolls back to his feet! This obviously enrages Bruner. He knows he let his opportunity escape him and he has to get his opponent back under his control, so he quickly pivots on one foot to turn back towards Dangerous and- *CRACK!* -is nailed (or pelted rather) with a left hook from Dangerous! It connects, stunning him for only a brief second, but it’s enough time for Johnny to step in and thrust his open palm into Bruner’s forehead, smacking him right between the eyes with a ferocious Shotei palm-strike! Bruner stumbles back and Johnny delivers another, and then another, and finally a third knocks him back several steps! Bruner won’t go down but when he moves he moves rather sluggishly. “He’s got him on the ropes!” Mak excitedly shouts as the crowd rises to their feet, holding their breath in anticipation. Bruner dazedly takes a wobbly step forward; the big man could very well be reeling but he isn’t going down just yet. It’s going to take more than another right cross to put Bruner on his back, and Dangerous knows it. He takes off for the far side of the ring, hits the ropes and explodes back off them, charging for his opponent like a raging bull! Johnny leaps up- *CRACK!* -and levels the Big Bully with a diving lariat! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!” “Finally, Tracy Bruner falls!” Francis shouts, but his call seems to be a bit premature. Bruner rolls onto his stomach, pushes up to his knees, and takes a moment to try and regain his breath. This, of course, doesn’t sit too well with the Barracuda as his frustration with the situation begins to show. It only last for a second though, as a light bulb or something seems to go off in the Barracuda’s mind, because his demeanor suddenly changes and he surprisingly comes after the Big Bully! “What the heck is he doing? Hasn’t he learned to stay away from Bruner yet?” Johnny grabs his Tracy by the arm as he gets back to his feet and attempts to whip him across the ring, into the corner post. However, he isn’t able to pull the much larger man into the Irish whip. “Idiot,” Suicide King mutters. Bruner grins devilishly as Dangerous’ eyes widen in surprise, and then he reverses the situation, whipping the Barracuda across the ring instead and into the corner post. Bruner takes off after Johnny, and for a moment it looks like Dangerous’ body is about to smash into the cold, unforgiving steel post with Bruner’s body acting as a trash compactor to complete it… but then Johnny suddenly leaps up to the top, and then just as quickly springs off to perform a beautiful corkscrew moonsault that goes crashing into the standing Bruner! *WHAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!” “He’s got him!” Mak shouts, but Dangerous quickly rolls off of his opponent and jumps back to his feet. “What the heck is going on here?” questions King. “He’s not even going to give a pinfall a chance?” Dangerous smacks Bruner in the head and if pissing off the big man even worse was his intention, it certainly works. Bruner pushes up to his feet, noticeably much slower than earlier in the match, and recklessly swings his fist out, hitting nothing but air. “Apparently Johnny didn’t think he’d seal the match with than moonsault,” notes Francis. “Maybe he thought it’d give Tracy too much time to rest and instead he’s going to keep the Big Bully moving, and in effect… totally draining his stamina.” “That didn’t work for Johnny earlier!” snaps King. “This just shows why Johnny hasn’t got it anymore. A truly talented star wouldn’t rely on the same old plan that failed to work in the first place – he’d keep trying something new until he made progress with it!” “Not if the original plan is starting to come together!” Johnny steps towards Tracy and slams his fist into the side of Bruner’s head! Bruner shouts angrily, and wildly swings back at the Barracuda but misses. Once more Johnny goes back to the stick and move strategy then shouting for Bruner. “Come on!” Johnny shouts, which Bruner does. He swings for Johnny, but this time it connects! “Come on!” Johnny shouts again after shaking off the blow. Like previously Bruner swings his fist and connects, but this time Johnny answers back with two swift cross body punches! “Either Johnny’s head is totally numb right now or those punches of Bruner’s aren’t packing the same power they had earlier in this match,” says Mak. “I’d say his head is numb,” Suicide King replies. “It’d have to be for him to try and street fight Tracy Bruner in a wrestling match!” Johnny again shouts for Bruner, only this time he shouts, “Hit me! Come on, hit me!” If that’s what he wants than that’s what he’ll get; Tracy punches the Barracuda again, but Johnny shakes it off and answers back with a series of punches to Bruner’s head! *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* Each time Johnny hits Bruner it seems like the big man is starting to loose it. Still he keeps in the fight, trying to fight back with punches that connect but don’t seem to even phase Johnny, as he quickly responds with several hits to Bruner, and seemingly hits him harder every time. *CRACK!* One more fist flies into the Big Bullies head, staggering him. This time he doesn’t swing back so Dangerous nails him again… “I guess if you keep shooting that whale with enough BB’s he’ll go down sooner or later,” sings Mak. Johnny nails Bruner again and the big man drops to one knee, igniting a roar of cheers from the fans which rises as Johnny Dangerous unloads with fist after fist into Bruner, bringing the Big Bully down to both knees. Finally, Herrington hollers at Dangerous to open his fist up, but apparently he didn’t do it soon enough. Fuming mad, Marvelous is on the apron again, admonishing the referee for not enforcing the rules more strictly as Herrington heatedly argues with him to get down! Bruner is down on both knees, stunned out of his mind, and with the referee’s attention diverted by Marvelous, Johnny quickly spins- *CRAAAAAACK~!* -and viciously batters Bruner with a spinning heel kick! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” The fans roar with glee as Tracy Bruner topples to the canvas and lies motionless, physically spent from the match. Dangerous doesn’t want to take any chances with this and he heads off to the corner post. “Johnny’s going up top!” Mak Francis announces. Dangerous climbs the post with his back facing the ring. “Johnny’s looking to finish this with the Death from Above! He last hit this on Danny Williams and we haven’t seen him since!” Marvelous sees the Barracuda and knows what he has up his sleeve. He tries to divert Herrington’s attention to Johnny on the post, but the referee just wants Marvelous down. Johnny pumps his fist to the crowd, exciting them even more before he closes his eyes and moonsaults off the turnbuckle! He unfolds in mid-air, bringing both feet out as he comes down over Bruner and then spikes them into the Big Bullies chest! *WHAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” “DEATH FROM ABOVE!” Mak excitedly shouts. “This match is over with! All of Johnny’s persistence has paid off! I hope you don’t need any help pulling your foot out of your mouth, King – you won’t get any help from me!” Strangely enough, Marvelous actually gets down in time for Herrington to see the after effects of the Death from Above. Johnny scrambles over Bruner and then he tosses all of his weight on top as the crowd roars excitedly for Dangerous. Even when facing certain defeat, when everyone has tried to tear down Johnny Dangerous, the faith of his fans fueled him to victory. He closes his eyes and listens to the count of the crowd… and the count of the referee. ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! “WHAT THE FU..” Half a second before Herrington can complete the three count Marvelous reaches into the ring, grabs the referee by his leg, and drags him out! Everyone in attendance unleashes a horrendous boo, and even a few paper cups start getting tossed at Sir Marvelous. “This is an outrage!” roars Mak. “Johnny had Bruner beat but Marvelous couldn’t keep himself out of it!” He might have saved Bruner from the dreaded three-count, but when Herrington gets up from the floor he’s absolutely livid! He quickly turns towards the timekeeper and signals for the bell! *DING DING DING!!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHH!!” His call easily changes the fans attitude for the better, but they wait with bailed breath as he heads to Funyon and explains the call. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer bellows. “As the result of a disqualification, the winner of this match is… JOHNNY DANGEROUS!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHH!!” “Thank God!” Mak sighs in relief. “Herrington made the right call and Johnny Dangerous has just defeated Tracy Bruner. With this victory he has earned the right to face Jay Hawke for the International Championship!” “Victory?” questions King. “He got the cheap DQ victory - he didn’t defeat Bruner!” Already annoyed, Francis just shakes his head. In the ring, Johnny stands as victoriously as he possibly can. His win was just cheapened by Sir Marvelous, making his fight worthless and he’ll have to prove himself again against Jay Hawke. Johnny takes his tag title and heads out of the ring and up the entryway dejectedly… As we: FADE OUT.

Storm returns from a commercial for Frost-Brand Haggis Helper and the raucous (And most likely drunk) Scottish crowd is still roiling with excitement. A kilted Highlander pans around the Braehead Arena, then swings over to Mak and King. "Welcome back to Scotland, fans! We've had some great matches already, and..." Mak starts. "And it's about to go downhill. Not only do we have to suffer through Jimmy the Doom versus Insane Luchador number eighty-seven, but it's a Beekeeper Match. A Beekeeper Match!" King shouts. "True, King, Jimmy and Luchador have met on several occasions in the past, with Doom picking up the win in practically all of them, but I think you've got to admit that, despite the quantity, the quality of the matches has always been pretty high when these two face off," Mak says. "I don't have to admit anything, Francis. We may not be in America right now, but we do live there, and that's one of the great things about the United States: not having to admit something despite overwhelming evidence," King says. Sadly, the merits of America cannot be explored further, as red and black pyrotechnics explode around the stage, ending all conversation. Alice in Chains' "Man in the Box" blares. Insane Luchador bursts through the lingering smoke and tosses his arms into the air, soaking in the adulation. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Beekeeper Match, where the winner is the first man to physically force his opponent through a crate of bees, and is for the World Hardcore title! Introducing first, from Easton, Pennsylvania, he stands six feet, two inches tall and weighs two hundred, twenty-three pounds. He is Your Psychotic Hero, IIIINNNSSSAAAANE LUUUUCHADORRR!" Funyon roars. The Ill One looks around at the fans, then sprints down the ramp and slides in the ring. Insane Luchador springs to his feet and glances over at referee Wallace Williams, decked out in protective beekeeper attire. "Man in the Box" stops abruptly, and the arena plunges into darkness. Tramping feet echo through the building and are soon joined by chanting voices. Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! The lights snap on to reveal twenty druids surrounding the ring. Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" strikes up, heralding the arrival of the most well known Doomtopian couple, Jimmy the Doom and Lois the Unethical. "And introducing his opponent, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical. Hailing from Doomopolis, Doomtopia, he stands six feet, five inches tall, weighs in at two hundred, thirty pounds, and is the current and longest reigning World Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIIIMMMYYYY THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon roars. Jimmy leads the way, Lois several steps behind and on belt carrying duty as usual. Doom clambers up the ring steps while Lois passes the title between the ropes to Williams. Jimmy ducks under the top rope and enters the ring to a chorus of cheers. The Panic Ogre quickly scurries to an empty seat next to the commentator's table as Williams lifts the championship belt into the air. Wallace then hands it over to Funyon and calls for the bell to be rung. Ding! Ding! Ding! Rather than take a moment to get a feel for each other, Jimmy and Luchador rush to the center of the ring, both men throwing punches wildly. Doom takes full advantage of his height and smashes IL with a double axhandle to the top of his skull, but it hardly effects the Ill One, as he laces a kick into Jimmy's left leg. "Both men going at it with reckless abandon early on, and judging by their past encounters, this match is going to push both men to the limit," Mak says. "I think that means that we're due for a quick finish. Maybe one will get lucky and the other guy will fall through a bee box," King says. Insane Luchador nails Doom with another leg kick, only to get popped with a shotei to the jaw. The Straight-Bread Sensation cracks IL with a second palm strike, then a third before whipping him to the ropes. The Psychotic Hero hurtles back and knocks Doom flat with a dropkick. Both men scramble to their feet at the same time and resume their striking battle. Jimmy snaps down with an elbow to the bridge of the nose, then buries a knee into IL's gut. The Doomtopian drives another knee to Luchador's stomach, then reaches down, snaring IL in a gutwrench. Jimmy lifts, but Luchador grabs two fistfuls of Doom's shorts, keeping him close to the mat. The Hardcore champ decides against expending any more effort and simply kicks his legs back, dropping the Ill One face-first on the canvas. KNURL! Jimmy places both hands on IL's shoulders and pushes himself off the mat, only to come crashing down with a knee to the head. LACHRYMAL! Doom stands, sprints to the ropes, and slides down for a basement dropkick, only for Insane Luchador to roll out of the way. IL pops up moments before Jimmy does, and that split second allows Luchador to blast Doom with a lunging right hook. ABELIA! The Psychotic Hero reaches out and snares Jimmy with a front facelock. IL yanks back, planting the Straight-Breader with a DDT. Not wanting a taste of his own medicine, Jimmy covers his head with his arms, leaving IL free to slide over and take his back. "Surprisingly nice transition from Insane Luchador there," Mak points out. "He spun, Mak," King states. "Actually, that was a quasi-technical move, King," Mak explains. "He's not allowed to do that! Punches and stuff involving metal things is all he should be allowed," King grumbles. Luchador unknowingly obliges the Suicide King as he begins nailing Doom with punches to the head. EFFULGENCE! UNGUENT! MOIETY! ABEYANCE! "See? That should be half of his offense," King says. Luchador easily slips a body scissors around the champ's slim frame, but finds Doom's chin is tucked too tightly to secure a rear naked choke, so IL continues punching. LEPTON! LEXICOGRAPHER! LICENTIATE! Perhaps a bit worried about punching himself out of the match, or simply confident that Doom has been worn down enough, Luchador climbs off the Straight-Breader and drags him to the edge of the ring. IL slips under the ropes and then pulls Jimmy out of the ring. Luchador cracks Jimmy with a forearm to the jaw, then wraps both hands around the back of Doom's head. The Psychotic Hero pulls him into a Muay Thai clinch and laces a knee into his chest. IL cracks the Straight-Breader with another knee to the sternum before slinging him away from the ring. Luchador grabs Jimmy's wrist with both hands and spins around, sending him to a bee box. EBULIENT! "What is that, oak? That sucker is pretty sturdy," King says. "Should make things a little more interesting," Mak says. "You've confused the definition of interesting with tedious, Mak. A strong bee box is only going to prolong this match, which is already at nigh unbearable levels of boredom, to the equivalent of spending eternity listening to Ben Stein reading every phone book in existence," King says. Jimmy slumps against the box and Luchador charges. IL leaps feet first, delivering a vicious dropkick to an empty wall. LIMPIDITY! "Doom moves out of the way just as Insane Luchador connected, and that cannot be good for the Ill One's knees," Mak says. "Maybe you could donate yours. It's not like you're using 'em," King says. Luchador pulls himself up with help from the bee box, only to drop to the ground as a Doomtopian leg whizzes by overhead. Jimmy vaults on top of the box and flings himself at IL, landing with a double stomp to the chest. DANDLE! "Jimmy the Doom showing his cruiserweight roots with that double stomp," Mak says. "What are you talking about, Mak? I know Doom is under the limit, and he even held the Cruiserweight title recently, but he's never had a high flying arsenal," King says. "That doesn't matter, King. All Smarks Wrestling Federation cruiserweights must utilize double stomps. It's in the handbook," Mak explains. Jimmy pulls Luchador off the ground and attempts a whip, only to be reversed. Doom tries to leap over the looming bee box, but is unable to pull his legs up high enough, and crashes shin-first into the edge. The Straight-Bread Sensation tumbles over the top and slides a few inches on the floor. ABNEGATE! "Why couldn't that damn box have been made out of particle board? These two idiots are wasting valuable time that could be spent on Johnny Dangerous getting torn limb from limb by Tracey Bruner," King says. "But think about it this way, King: the longer these two are out here, the longer we have to wait before Clark joins us for commentary," Mak says. "No, he'll be joining you. I've got anything better to do," King says. The Psychotic Hero walks towards the battered crate just as Doom yanks himself up. Jimmy reaches out, snaking a hand into IL's throat. The Straight-Breader ducks low, placing the top of his skull under Luchador's jaw. Doom plants both hands on top of IL's head and drops to his knees. LEGERDEMAIN! "Hand of Doom from the Hardcore champion followed up with a nice jawbreaker from the other side of the bee box," Mak says. "It's been a while, so I've forgotten: do I endorse the Hand of Doom, or feel that Jimmy shouldn't be allowed to use it?" King asks. "You dislike his use of it, though I imagine you're fine with say, Jay Hawke, employing the move," Mak replies. "I thought so. Ahem. That Hand of Doom crap has got to go! That lanky fool has no regard for the safety of other wrestlers at all! Throat injuries can be very serious, yet Doom is out there, night after night, hitting people in the trachea, just so he can keep, at best, a tertiary title," King roars. Jimmy races around the box as IL stumbles backwards, and Doom slaps on a reverse full nelson. The Hardcore champion lifts Luchador, turns around, and slams him in front of the box. Doom props the Ill One against the box and takes several steps back. Jimmy runs forward and jumps, driving his shoulder through the box, but without Luchador in the middle. EDUCED! "Doom went for a flying shoulder block, but Luchador moved just before the impact. At least we know the boxes can be smashed," Mak offers. "And we've got some bees loose in the arena. Couldn't someone have put up some mosquito netting or something?" King asks. "You practically answered your own question, King. Mosquito netting can't stop bees," Mak says. Luchador extracts Doom from the rubble and whips him into the side of the ring. DATIVE! The Ill One races towards the Straight-Breader and leaps, driving both knees into Jimmy's stomach. Luchador wraps Doom in a front headlock, hooks his right leg and lifts. IL walks Jimmy away from the ring, turns ninety degrees and drops, planting the champ's head into the floor. MAJOLICA! "Fisherman's Buster on the ground from Luchador, and this could be it right here," Mak says. "Why not just do the Fisherman's Buster through a box? Oh, that's right, Luchador didn't do that because he's an idiot," King says. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Psychotic Hero went for a Balcony Sault and got it. Jimmy might be down for a while after that impact," Mak says. "Francis, have you been taking drugs? I know it looked rough, but how many times has Doom proven that he can function with multiple concussions at the same time? I am in no way endorsing Jimmy the Doom, but I don't think he'll stay down for long," King says. Luchador picks Doom up and drags Jimmy to a fresh box. IL hauls the Straight-Bread Sensation on top of the crate and makes his way to the ring. The Ill One pulls himself onto the apron, then begins climbing the turnbuckles. Luchador looks over his shoulder to make sure Doom hasn't moved, then leaps off with a backflip. ELECTROENCEPHALOGRAM! "Once again, you prove to be a waste of space, Francis. Doom got off the box in plenty of time," King says. "Oh, no, how dare I be incorrect? Like you've never been wrong in a prediction," Mak says. "It's been well documented that sun spots were the source of my few inaccuracies," King says. Jimmy slowly pushes himself to his knees, then works up to a vertical base. Doom shakes his head clear, bends down, and grabs a chunk of wood. The Straight-Bread Sensation walks over to the downed Luchador and pokes him in the head with the box shard. Content with IL's level of consciousness, Doom drags Luchador to a bee box. The Doomtopian sits Luchador against the box and walks away from IL. Jimmy counts out his twenty paces, spins on his heel and dashes for the Ill One. Doom launches himself feet-first at IL, only for the Psychotic Hero to fall over to the left, leaving Jimmy to smash into the box. LUFF! Surprisingly, Doom does not completely shatter the box, but just manages to break through two walls, leaving the remainder on his waist. "Maybe he'll incorporate that into his standard attire. It provides significant torso protection, plus it keeps the shoulders off the mat," Mak says. "It's a box. A wooden box. A flammable wooden box. Okay, if he does use it, I challenge him to an Inferno match," King says. "Is it just me, or is Doom looking a little...puffy?" Mak asks. "No, there is some swelling in a few places. Jesus, I think that idiot is mildly allergic to bee stings. He's the one that asked for this particular stipulation, wasn't he?" King asks. "Yes, I think so. Do you think he knew he was allergic?" Mak says. "Ordinarily, I'd call you a fool for asking that question, but this is Doom, so there is a strong possibility that he did know full well what would happen if he got stung," King says. With much rolling and twisting, Doom manages to get to his feet, box still firmly in place. Not for long, though, as Jimmy runs headlong into the steps, smashing the crate. LENITIVE! Jimmy heads over to Luchador, picks him up, and hurls him under the bottom rope. Doom clambers inside the ring and lifts IL off the mat. The Straight-Breader pops Luchador with a quick quartet of palm strikes before shoving him into the ropes with a front kick. Extremely punch drunk, the Ill One staggers back, right into a headbutt and downward spiking elbow from the Hardcore champion. MACERATE! DEBARKATION! Jimmy grabs IL by the wrist and sends the Psychotic Hero to the far set of ropes, then bounces off the near set himself. The Straight-Bread Sensation leaps into the air and collides head-first with IL's jaw. GEVALT! "I guess that was a missile headbutt from Jimmy the Doom, and Insane Luchador is getting beaten from glen to glen, and down the mountainside," Mak says. "Mak, that's an Irish song," King points out. The Doomtopian gets to his knees and rolls Luchador under the bottom rope. Jimmy ducks under the top rope and pulls IL off the ring apron. Doom wraps both hands around the Ill One's throat and lifts. Jimmy races along the apron, then jumps off, smashing Insane Luchador through a bee box with a sit out powerbomb. ABSCISA! Wallace Williams quickly calls for the bell and begins scooping up honey. Ding! Ding! Ding! "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIIIMMMMYYYY THE DOOOOOOOOOM!" Funyon bellows. "Running Jimmy Bomb off the apron, and Doom has retained his title yet again. Did you know that in one reign, he's held the Hardcore belt for longer than Wild and Dangerous have had the Tag titles in all five runs combined?" Mak asks. "No, Mak, I did not, but that's probably because I choose not to know boring little tidbits and factoids that only giant nerds like you care about," King says. Lois grabs the title and runs over to Jimmy, who is steadily swelling like a pregnant woman. In a rare display of movement, the druids snatch for the loose bees, eating what few are caught as "Yakety Sax" plays for a second time. The Doomtopians head back up the ramp as Insane Luchador is attended to by medical personnel and Storm fades to a commercial for Eduardo MacHernandez' Custom Kilt Shop - "Your one stop shop for kilt repair, custom detailing, and exotic tartan paint jobs".

There once was a match on Storm, In Scotland, which ain't very warm. Raynor beat Michael Cross with an awesome hip toss, "A limerick, Raynor? Bad form!" For whatever it's worth, I hate myself.