chirs3

“Hey, what’s up?” Landon Maddix asks, sitting down on the bench in the dressing room next to his tag team partner. Michael Stephens doesn’t reply at first and just continues to stare into the distance, so Landon asks the question again. “I’m thinking,” Stephens replies finally. “About how to win the match tonight?” Landon asks, tapping his nose, “no worries, I’ve been thinking about that for… oh, the last fifteen minutes! See, what I think we’ve got to do is-” “-no, not about that,” the Englishman cuts him off, “I’ve been thinking about whether we should win the match.” “…say what?” “Look, the only other time I won the Tag Titles was at the end of 2004,” Stephens tells Maddix, “when Sean and I beat Todd Cortez and that shit Van Siclen for them. A few weeks later, BANG! I lose the World Title to you.” He looks down reflectively at the Big Gold Belt sitting beside him. “I’m not normally suspicious, but… I dunno. If we win them tonight, is that just going to make me less focused to meet Flesher at Genesis?” “Look at it this way,” Landon says encouragingly, “if we win tonight, you’ll have taken his title and unsettled him before I take the Cruiserweight Belt, and then you can keep your title at Genesis!” He slaps his partner on the back. “Come on, we’ll do great! Even Amy and Megan have stopped fighting!” “Amazing,” Stephens says, “how many sedatives did it take?” “Look, we have got one problem though,” Landon says, turning around to face his partner, “at least, you might view it as a problem…” “…go on.” “Well, I told Peters that I didn’t like our new theme much,” Maddix admits, “so he asked me to suggest a new one. And I gave him a big long list.” “Yeah, I know,” Stephens replies, “he told me, I did the same thing.” “Well, would you believe that not a single song or artist came up on both lists?” Maddix says, his manner reflecting the sheer chaotic nature of the universe. And indicating something bad. “…and?” “Well, Peters said that he wasn’t going to favour one of us over the other, so from now on we don’t get a regular entrance theme.” “Oh God,” Stephens says, covering his eyes, “what?” “…we’re going to come out to whatever Peters’ iPod Shuffle stops on that night,” Landon says, waiting for an explosion. Instead Michael Stephens just gets up, picks up the World Title and walks out of the room. “I’ve died. I’m being forced to tag with Landon Maddix, Gabe fuckin’ Drake is in the same company, and now I don’t even know what my entrance music’s going to be. I could be coming out to 50 Bloody Cent. I’ve died, and I’ve gone to hell…”

“We’re back for more Smarkdown,” says Mak Francis. “And, last week on Lockdown, ‘Iron’ Mike Cross had his World Cruiserweight Title reign come to an end at the hands of Tom Flesher. He’s looking to get back on the winning track, but he’s going to have to start here tonight against the Birdman!” “There’s no shame in losing to Tom Flesher,” says the Suicide King. “Flesher is one of the greatest of all time; he’s held every title worth having here in the SWF, including the Cruiserweight Title, and after two grueling matches against Zyon, ‘Iron’ Mike didn’t have that much of a chance… I mean, Tom’s not a guy that you’re going to be able to beat unless you’re at one hundred percent! But I give credit to ‘Iron’ Mike for not dwelling on the past. He’s moving on; in fact, he’s already got his sights set towards Genesis!” “What King is referring to is an interview held with Mike Cross after Lockdown, which was an exclusive to SWF.com. In it, he challenged his former tag team partner, Akira Kaibatsu, to a Submissions match at Genesis!” “Akira’s in for a world of pain at Genesis,” adds King. “Mike Cross has already shown that he’ll do whatever it takes to reach the top of the SWF, including running over his former partner. And, at Genesis, ‘Iron’ Mike will prove that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get BACK on top!” “That’s going to be one for the ages,” agrees Mak, “but Cross had better not make the mistake of looking past the Birdman. Birdman made his return to the SWF last week on Lockdown against Martin Hunt. And, after a two-year absence, the Bird looks to have picked up right where he left off!” “Birdman is a very unpredictable wrestler,” concedes King. “But, having already defeated Zyon, I can’t imagine that Birdman could possibly be a greater challenge for ‘Iron’ Mike. Plus, this is only Birdman’s second match back, and his first match was against the inept Martin Hunt. I fully expect Cross to roll over Birdman as he continues on his path to Genesis!” “Don’t underestimate the Birdman, King,” warns Francis. “He was one of the top cruiserweight stars in the SWF during his first run, and he looks like he’s on track to re-establish himself in the Cruiserweight Division. In fact, He may very well put himself in line for a title shot with a win here tonight against Mike Cross!” “Not going to happen!” insists King. “Cross has re-dedicated himself to competition, and he’s not going to allow Birdman to come between him and his destiny at Genesis!” “There’s no question that the best cruiserweights in the world compete here in the SWF,” says Mak, bringing it home for the television viewers. “And you’re about to see why right now, as we send it up to Funyon in the ring!” DING! DING! DING! “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” booms Funyon. Suddenly “The Show Must Go On” by Queen starts playing, as Michael Cross steps out onto the stage. The fans boo Cross energetically as he begins to make his way down towards the ring. “Introducing first,” continues Funyon, “from Detroit, Michigan, and weighing in at two hundred twenty-eight pounds, here is ‘Iron’ Mike CROSS!” Cross walks up the steel stairs and then steps between the ropes to enter the ring. He attempts to focus on the match at hand, but the fans are less than willing to oblige: YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! Cross jumps up and down in frustration as the fans continue to tease him for how he submitted to lose the Cruiserweight Title. “It would seem that ‘Iron’ Mike hasn’t moved on from his loss on Lockdown as thoroughly that you were making him out to be, King,” remarks Francis. “He’s clearly letting these fans get to him!” “This is horrible!” shouts King. “I can’t believe the lack of class by the fans here in Canada! I hope that this is our last Canadian Tour, because these fans don’t deserve to have us come back! And besides which, technically, he didn’t even TAP out!” Cross complains about the fans’ behavior to referee Eddy Long, but Long just shrugs at him, as if to say, “What do you want ME to do about it?” “The Show Must Go On” fades out, leaving a hush to fall over the crowd before it is pierced by Fergie’s voice: LET’S GET RETARDED… IN HEEEEERE! The fans in the Rexall Arena begin cheering enthusiastically as “Let’s Get Retarded” by the Black Eyed Peas begins pumping through the speakers. Birdman bounds out onto the stage, dancing around for the fans delight. “His opponent,” continues Funyon, “from parts unknown, and weighing in at two hundred nineteen pounds… the Birdman!” Birdman traipses leisurely down the aisle, greetings the fans around the barricade as he makes his way to the ring. “They’re on their feet here for the Birdman!” shouts Mak. “King, he may be one of the most popular performers that we’ve ever had here in the SWF!” “Hell if I know why,” grunts King, as Birdy hops onto the ring apron and vaults over the top rope. “All he does is run around in a bird suit and squawk!” At that very moment, Birdy decides to make King’s point for him, as he salutes the crowd with his signature cry: Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! “You see what I mean?” snaps King. Birdman’s music fades out, and Eddy Long signals to the timekeeper to start the match: DING! DING! DING! “There’s the bell!” shouts Mak. “This match is underway!” Birdy approaches Cross tentatively, and ‘Iron’ Mike immediately takes control, burying a knee into his midsection! Cross then begins to hammer Birdman in the upper back with a brutal series of clubbing forearm smashes, before trapping him in a waistlock; Cross pops his hips as he heaves the Bird overhead, driving him into the canvas with a belly-to-back suplex! “Wow!” exclaims Mak, as Cross pulls Birdman to his feet. “Michael Cross wasted no time in coming out of the chute with a vengeance; he hasn’t even given Birdman time to breathe!” Cross hoists Birdy onto his shoulder in a bearhug and charges into a nearby corner, driving the Bird’s back into the turnbuckles! “So much for looking past his opponent,” laughs King, as Iron Mike continues to drive his shoulder into Birdy’s midsection. “Or maybe he’s just seeing Akira Kaibatsu in the ring instead of the Birdman!” Cross grabs Birdy by the back of the head and leads him across the ring to bash his face into the opposite corner, but the Bird gets his foot up at the last second to block, and then smashes Mike’s face into the top turnbuckle instead! Birdy reaches up to trap Iron Mike’s head in a cravate as he staggers out of the corner, and then takes him over with a snapmare; in what seems like a singular motion, he then turns back towards the corner and leaps onto the middle ropes before flying back into the ring… CRACK! … Blasting Cross in the back of the head with a springboard missile dropkick from the second rope! Birdman pulls Mike to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Cross reverses easily, sending Birdy into the ropes instead. Birdy ducks an elbow as he rebounds and is waiting for Iron Mike as he turns back around, taking him off his feet with a lightning-quick armdrag! Cross stumbles to his feet, but the Bird tosses him into the air with a second deep armdrag takeover, and then follows up with a hiptoss; Birdman runs to the ropes as Iron Mike stumbles back to his feet and leaps into the air as he rebounds, nailing Cross with a running dropkick that sends him tumbling out of the ring! Birdman salutes the crowd with his signature shout out: Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! Michael Cross gets to his feet just in time to see Birdman diving headfirst towards him! He dives to the floor to evade what he expects will be a suicide dive, but the Bird grabs onto the top and middle ropes at the last second and swings back into the ring! Iron Mike scrambles back to his feet to see Birdman standing in the center of the ring, taunting him with his trademark birdcall: Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! “Michael Cross got off to a good start in this match, but Birdman’s managed to turn the tables on him!” exclaims Mak, as Cross slams his hands on the apron in frustration Cross returns to the ring well ahead of the referee’s count, and he locks up with Birdman in the center of the ring; Cross takes control with a side headlock. Birdy backs Cross against the ropes and forces him across the ring, but Iron Mike knocks him down as he rebounds with a shoulderblock! Cross runs towards the edge of the ring, but the Bird hooks him in a rolling single-leg takedown as he bounces off the ropes, quickly bending Iron Mike’s leg backwards as he applies a half-Boston Crab on the former Cruiserweight Champion! Before he can get it hooked in good, however, Cross scrambles like a madman to get to the ropes, forcing a break. Eddy Long begins to deliver a ten-count as Cross rolls out of the ring to recover, and the fans begin to jeer at him for getting caught in a submission: YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! “Boy,” notes Francis, “Michael Cross has really been out of sync ever since taking that missile dropkick!” Cross pulls himself up onto the apron ahead of the referee’s count, and Birdman goes over to confront him, but Iron Mike thrusts his upper body between the ropes to drive his shoulder into Birdy’s midsection! Cross grasps onto the top rope and launches himself into the ring, grabbing onto Birdman’s waist as he flies past to hook a Sunset Flip! ONE! TWO! But Birdman rolls through the Sunset Flip, grabbing Cross by the left leg as he gets to his feet; Birdy wraps Iron Mike’s left leg behind his right, and then reaches down to grab the former Cruiserweight Champion’s right leg, crossing his legs together before falling back into a Figure-Four leglock! Once again, Iron Mike desperately makes his way to the ropes, forcing a break: YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! “These fans are really getting underneath Iron Mike’s skin!” says Mak. “They won’t let him forget that he tapped out last week!” “Which is patently unfair!” snaps King. “I’ll bet every single person in this crowd would have tapped in less than half the time!” “Sounds like they’ve touched a nerve with you as well, King,” says Mak. “You’re damned right!” replies King. “These cretins should cut Iron Mike some slack. I mean, he tapped out to Tom Freaking Flesher; there’s no shame in that! It’s not like he tapped out to that twerp Landon Maddix or somebody like that!” Cross reluctantly returns to the center of the ring, where he ties up with Birdman. Birdy takes control with an arm wringer, which Cross quickly reverses. He drives several kneelifts into Birdman’s midsection as he backs him against the ropes; Cross whips Birdy across the ring but, instead of bouncing off the ropes, Birdman slides underneath the bottom rope and lands on his feet out on the arena floor. Birdman taunts Iron Mike with a birdcall: Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! Cross angrily storms over to the edge of the ring and reaches through the ropes to take a swing at Birdman, but the Bird stands just out of his reach. “Birdman is playing a dangerous game with Iron Mike,” warns King. “He doesn’t want to keep agitating him in the perturbed state he’s in!” Eddy Long orders Cross to step away from the edge of the ring so that he can deliver a ten-count Iron Mike turns his back on Birdy only to charge towards the edge of the ring, sliding feet-first underneath the bottom rope to get a cheap shot on his opponent… … But the Bird dives back into the ring through the second rope just as Cross is diving out of the ring through the bottom rope! Birdy rolls quickly back to his feet and charges back towards the edge of the ring, diving feet-first through the ropes before Iron Mike realizes what happened… WHAM! … And blasts him in the face with a baseball slide! Birdman gets back to his feet and runs over to the nearby corner as Cross stumbles backwards into the ring barricade! Birdy climbs up to the top turnbuckle and waits for Cross to get back to his feet before leaping out of the ring, drilling Iron Mike between the eyes with a flying double-axe handle! “Birdman’s on a roll!” shouts Mak. “Cross doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going!” Birdman pulls Cross back up to his feet and leans him against the barricade, before drawing his arm back… CHOP! WHOOOOO! … And blistering Iron Mike’s chest with a vicious reverse knife-edge chop! CHOP! WHOOOOO! CHOP! WHOOOOO! CHOP! WHOOOOO! Birdman then grabs Cross by the wrist and whips him towards the barricade, only for Cross to reverse. Birdman leaps into the air as he approaches the barricade, landing gracefully on his feet and then springs back towards Cross… WHAM! … Only for Iron Mike to blast him out of the sky with a ferocious Thrust Kick! “Brilliant counter by Iron Mike!” praises King. Mike pulls Birdman to his feet and leads him by the back of head towards the corner of the ring… where he slams the Bird face-first into the steel ring steps! Cross rolls Birdman back into the ring and then slides into the ring himself. He pulls Birdman back to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring and snatching him up in a bearhug as he rebounds, driving the Bird into the canvas with a tremendous Railgun suplex! Cross clambers over and applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Birdman kicks out at two! Cross pulls Birdy to his feet and doubles him over at the waist, standing to one side and measuring him before unleashing a battery of kneelifts to the side of Birdman’s face! Birdy staggers woozily but won’t fall, until Iron Mike runs to the ropes, sweeping his right leg behind Birdman’s as he drives the Bird to the canvas with a running STO Takeover! Cross applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! Birdman again kicks out at two! Cross pulls Birdman up to his feet and traps him in a front facelock before reaching down to grab his near leg; Iron Mike pops his hips as he lifts Birdman into the air and quickly brings him back down with a snap suplex! Cross rolls back to his feet and heads over to a nearby corner; he climbs up onto the middle turnbuckle and leaps off, crushing Birdy’s skull with a jumping double stomp! He reaches across Birdman’s body to hook the leg… ONE! TWO! THREE! No! Birdman just gets the shoulder up! Cross gets to his feet and poses for the fans, who respond accordingly: BOOOOOOOOOO! “Michael Cross was able to score with that Avalanche Head Trauma,” notes Mak, “but Birdman found it within himself to kick out!” “Birdman may have been able to kick out of that,” replies King, “but he’s going to be on the defensive now; Michael Cross turned the tide of this match with that dropkick to the knee, and now Birdman will have to wrestle defensively which, despite his improvement as a wrestler, is something that he still has yet to prove that he’s consistently capable of doing.” Cross pulls Birdman to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, and lowering his head as the Bird rebounds to lift him into the air with a backdrop, but the Bird flips all the way through and lands on his feet behind Iron Mike. Birdman runs to the edge of the ring, but Michael springs off the canvas as he bounces off the ropes and locks his legs around Birdy’s neck, arching backwards as he takes him over with a Hurricanrana! “Beautiful Rana,” exclaims Mak, as Long dives into position. “And Michael Cross is feeling it right now!” ONE! TWO! THRE— NO! Birdman kicks out from the pinfall attempt, but not without considerable effort. Cross pulls him up to his feet and then scoops him up, extending his thigh as he drops the Bird back down into a pendulum backbreaker! Cross immediately pulls him back to his feet and tucks his head underneath Birdy’s arm, as he lifts him up into a Northern Lights Suplex! “Cross is going for the Triple Northern Lights!” cries Mak, as Michael rolls over onto his knees and pulls Birdy up for the second suplex. “If he hits all three, this match is over!” shouts King. Cross inadvertently rolls closer to the edge of the ring as he pulls Birdman up a third time. He lifts the Bird overhead and slams him back down with the third suplex, holding him for the pinfall as Long delivers the count: ONE! TWO! THREE! “Not quite!” yells Mak. “Birdman’s foot is on the ropes!” “Figures that he’d try something that cowardly!” gripes King. Iron Mike pulls Birdy back to his feet and whips him into the ropes, lowering his head to deliver a back-body drop that sends Birdman hurtling through the air! “Big backdrop by Iron Mike,” says Mak. “Michael Cross has it locked in right now!” Cross pulls Birdy to his feet, but the Bird appears to still have some starch left in him, as he begins to rifle punches into Iron Mike’s midsection. Birdman runs to the ropes, but Cross gives chase, and clotheslines him over the top rope as he begins to rebound! “Tremendous heads up move there by Iron Mike!” Cross reaches between the top and middle ropes to pull Birdman back onto the apron, where he traps him in a front facelock. “He’s going to try and suplex him in!” shouts King. Cross lifts Birdman up over the top rope and begins to fall back into the ring, but the Bird shifts his weight as he begins to fall and lands atop his opponent! He remains on top as Long counts: ONE! TWO! THR— “Kickout,” shouts King. “Birdman hasn’t done enough damage to take him out!” Birdman rolls away from Cross, and then returns to his feet. He runs towards Iron Mike as he gets to his feet and leaps into the air… WHAM! … But Michael catches him in midair and spins him around, driving him down onto his knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! “Tremendous tilt-a-whirl,” cries Mak. “He got him that time!” “Birdman is down and out,” adds King, as Cross heads over to the corner. “But what the hell is Cross doing?” Michael steps out onto the ring apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. Without a word, he leaps off of the turnbuckle and flips forward into the ring, poised to execute a Sunset Flip … WHAM! … But the Bird suddenly springs off the canvas and knocks Cross out of the air with a standing dropkick! “Michael Cross wanted to end this match with Sunset Flip,” cries Mak, “but he appeared to have tried that move prematurely!” “Absolutely,” agrees King, as Birdman uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. “This is the time when you want to rub Birdman’s face into the mat, and continue to wear him down; there was no need to try to go for the ‘home run’ there! Now he’s given Birdman a little bit of breathing room… and we both know that a little bit is all that Birdman needs to turn the tables on a match!” Birdman pulls Cross to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle! Before Iron Mike can even stagger out of the corner, the Bird launches himself forward with breakneck speed, leaping into the air as he draws near the corner and twisting his body around… SPLASH! … Crashing into the Suicide Machine with a Stinger splash! “Stinger Splash,” shouts Mak. “That move drives all of the air right out of you! That could be the break that Birdman needs to take over this match!” Birdman races towards the edge of the ring as Cross staggers out of the corner, and leaps into the air to hook Cross with the Bulldog… BANG! … But Iron Mike spins around and nearly decapitates Birdman with a rolling elbow! He collapses atop Birdy in a lateral press: ONE! TWO! THR— But only gets two! “No way!” croaks King. “Where did he find the energy to kick out of that?” Michael pulls Birdman to his feet and pushes him against the ropes, attempting to pound his way through Birdman’s suit with heavy clubbing forearm blows; Iron Mike then grabs Birdman by the wrist and whips him across the ring. The Suicide Machine grabs Birdman as he bounces off the ropes and lifts him up into a bearhug… WHAM! … Before driving him down onto his knee with an inverted Atomic Drop! As Birdman bends clutches his lower body in pain, Cross runs back towards the ropes, and launches himself back towards the Bird with surprising speed, his arm extended to deliver a fierce running clothesline… CRACK! … But as quick as Michael is, Birdman is even quicker, and he ducks the clothesline attempt, cupping his hands under Iron Mike’s neck from behind, leaping into the air and bringing Cross down spine-first down across his knees with an explosive Lungblower! “Lungblower,” shrieks Mak. “Birdman still had enough left in the tank to duck that clothesline, and hit the Lungblower on Cross!” Iron Mike flops over onto his back as Birdman pulls himself to his feet. “Birdman’s heading up to the top!” shouts Mak. “That looks like just the opening that the Birdman was waiting for! And that’s big trouble for Michael Cross!” Birdman leaps effortlessly onto the top rope and looks out to the crowd to give them one final salute before delivering the coup de grace: Birdman: CAW, CAW! Crowd: CAW, CAW! Birdman leaps fearlessly from the top rope… WHAM! … And nails Michael Cross with the Bird Dropping! Eddy Long quickly dives into position to count the shoulders: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! The crowd explodes as “Let’s Get Retarded” begins to play again. Long raises Birdman’s hand in victory as Funyon makes the official announcement. “Here is your winner, the Birdman!” “Another one bites the dust for the Birdman!” exclaims Mak. “It’s official, folks: Birdman is back in the mix! We’ll be back with more Smarkdown right after this; stay with us!”

Mak: "Ladies and gentlemen you are minutes away from witnessing the debut of the latest SWF signee, if I'm not mistaken he's the first competitor we've ever had from France" Mak and the Suicide King get some face time after we return from the commercial break, they are also joined by a third guy behind the table, a guy with a barrette, a pencil thin moustache and a colorful silk shirt. King: "Well to give The Ace a feeling of being back home we're brought in the most charismatic, energetic color commentator in all of France, Monsieur Jacques Baptist Bonaparte" The Suicide King’s explanation comes with very little warmth or friendliness as he points to the Frenchman on his right. JBB: "Bonjour" That is all the French commentator says, obviously both Mak and King wait and expect a bit more, then when it becomes clear that's about the extend of his pre-match comments Mak quickly steps in. Mak: ¤A-hem¤ “and now we go to Funyon in the ring for the introductions" Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen, Madames é Monsieurs the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall with a 20 minute time limit introducing first making his debut here tonight from Marseille, France” King: “Frogman Le Blánc!” The King’s joke obviously falls on deaf ears as neither Mak nor their French guest commentator say anything. Funyon: “tipping the scale at 229 pounds making his SWF debut tonight, “The Ace!!” Pierre DOOOOOOOONETTE!!” At first the Canadian crowd is sort quiet, not sure what to think but the moment “La Marseillaise” starts up it’s safe to say that more than half of the crowd gets an instant dislike for The Ace. ¤ Allons enfants de la patrie, ¤ ¤ Le jour de gloire est arriv ¤ ¤ Contre nous de la tyrannie ¤ ¤ L'tendard sanglant est lev ¤ White sparks makes the Rexall Center look all purdy as “The Ace” Pierre Donette enters the arena with the French flag held high in the air waving it from side to side as only a proud Frenchman could. Mak: “It’s always exciting to see superstars from a foreign country, just to see the subtle differences in their style” King: “You can’t be sublet against Nemesis, the guy is just too damn big to use subtleties on him, don’t you agree Jacques?” JBB: “Oui” ¤ Entendez vous dans les campagnes ¤ ¤ Mugir ces froces soldats? ¤ ¤ Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras ¤ ¤ Egorger nos fils, nos compagnes! ¤ Pierre Donette steps through the ropes while taking great care to keep the flag from touching the ground, making sure not to desecrate the flag. Donette shoots Funyon an arrogant look as he shoos the announcer to one side so that he can take center stage. King: “So Mak other than this guy being French and being yet ANOTHER cruiserweight what do you know about him?” Mak: “Honestly? Nothing at all, maybe Jacques here knows more about Pierre Donette?” JBB: “Oui” Both Mak and King had hoped that Jacques would elaborate just a tad more but that doesn’t seem to be the case tonight. If the crowd weren’t sure of what to think of the French debutant they have no doubts about what to think of Professor Attenborough, he’s a relative newcomer to the federation but he’s already disliked by most people BOOOOOOOOOO!! BOOOO! YOU SUCK!! BOOOOOOO!! Man those Canadians sure do get creative with their chants. The Ace folds up his flag and then hands it off to a ring side attendant after instructing him to not let it touch the ground or he’ll come back and kick his ass. Professor: “I’m going to skip the most obvious reason for why Nemesis is going to come out here and kick your ass, being that you’re French!” Mak: “Well someone didn’t miss the obvious jokes did they?” King: “Oh come on he didn’t call them white flag waving surrender monkeys now did he?” Professor: “Instead I want to talk to you about you walking into this federation and declaring yourself something of a “Cruiserweight killer” or some nonsense right? A cruiserweight “Cruiserweight Killer”? Talk about arrogance” King: “Well he is French” Mak: “KING!! I would like to apologize to all our French viewers I’m sure they’re all terribly offended by now.” JBB: “Oui” Professor: “Such arrogance, such hubris Mr. Donette. Well Hubris, meet NEEEEEEEEEEMESIS!!!” As is the tradition now the lights die down only a split second before the deep rumbling impact that feels like when the French do underground nuclear testing on Moruroa is felt. ¤ BOOOOOOoooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ¤ The real life smoke breathing monster steps through the green inferno of pyrotechics as the crowd boo and jeer their little Canadian hearts out. To Pierre Donette’s credit he doesn’t run away or wave a white flag as the gigantic luminescent figure moves towards the ring, Donette is here to show the world that the French aren’t just quitters but indeed fighters! The Professor has a few words of instruction for the big man as the house lights come back up to their normal levels. Once the Professor has given “his” monster the last set of instructions he points to the ring and to Pierre Donette. ¤ DING-DING-DING! ¤ Mak: “I know that the SWF like to test people out right off the bat but this may be too much” King: “The bigger the challenge the bigger the prize, I mean if Ace here can knock Nemesis off tonight he’ll really have arrived, he’ll be a true rookie sensation” JBB: “Oui” Donette awaits his opponent’s reactions instead of foolishly charging at the monster of a man. Nemesis takes a step towards Pierre Donette, reaches out to grab the much smaller opponent but gets nothing but air as Donette ducks under the outstretched arms and then kicks Nemesis in the back of the knee. The first kick hardly registers with Nemesis but the second one seems to get his attention as he turns towards Donette and makes a move for him. King: “He’s moving very fluidly in the ring, avoiding Nemesis like it was child’s play” Mak: “Considering how slow and plodding Nemesis is it’s not that hard to look fast against him” King: “Have you always been such a wet blanket Mak?” After ducking under yet another lunging attack from the Colossus Pierre Donette builds up some speed and then nails Nemesis in the back of the leg with a running boot. The kick throws Nemesis off balance giving Pierre an opening to hit the big man in the knee again before darting in to grab Nemesis by the leg in an attempt to lift it off the ground and push the monster off his feet. Donette looks to be succeeding at first as he raises the big man’s foot off the ground but moments later Pierre Donette learns what a fly feels like when it gets his with a fly swatter as Nemesis brings one of his huuuuuuuuuuge fists down on the Frenchman’s back Mak: “I thought for a second he might have had him there” King: “Too early Mak, much too early you really have to wear these big men down” Mak: “Oh do you have a lot of experience in monster slaying?” King: “Ehhh yes! Yes I do, I remember one night I had to fight off both a 7 foot Cyclops and then a couple of 300 pound fans back to back.” The Ace is quickly back on his feet after being stuck with the hammer like blow, it was a blow that taught him one thing: don’t get hit like that again. Donette’s stance loosens considerably as he gets a spring in his step avoiding the big man each time he makes a move for the Frenchman. The Professor yells at Nemesis to try and trap Pierre in the corner but since he’s yelling at the top of his lungs it’s hardly a secret and the Ace easily avoids being caught in the corner. One time it actually looks like Nemesis has his opponent trapped as Pierre ends up in the corner with Nemesis blocking both escape routes around him. When the big man rushes in to strike Pierre the Ace lithely leaps over the top rope and to the floor avoiding the crushing impact of the big man ¤ WHUAM ¤ Mak: “This is your opening man! Nemesis is staggered” King: “He’s so big that the only man that can hurt himself is himself” Nemesis is staggered after running straight into the turnbuckles at full speed, something which does not escape the attention of Pierre Donette, he’s no snail after all. In a flash of red Donette is up on the apron and then on the top rope before you can even say “Freedom Fries”. With the wind of his fellow Frenchmen beneath his wings Donette leaps off the top rope, twists his body and strikes Nemesis in the back with a flying reverse elbow. King: “Now that’s impressive isn’t it?” JBB: “Oui” Mak: “(pregnant pause) alright I’ll give him that one.” The back elbow has driven Nemesis into the corner chest first and he now finds himself in a precarious position as Donette has grabbed one of his legs and is trying to pull the big man to the ground. Pierre holds on to the big boot with all he’s got at Nemesis tries to shake him lose, he even holds on as Nemesis pulls the leg up under himself. This is something Pierre will live to regret as Nemesis kicks backwards with all of his considerable might planting his size “humongous” boot right in Pierre’s chest Mak: “Man his advantage didn’t last very long did it?” King: “Are you making fun of the French’s stamina? Are you saying that they’re quick in the sack? Tell me Jacques is that a fair comment to make about the French?” JBB: “Oui” Nemesis makes sure to get his hand on his opponent before the Frenchman has a chance to recover. With Nemesis providing a power boost Pierre Donette is sent hurdling from one corner towards the opposite one ¤ HUUUUUUUUURH ¤ Striking the turnbuckles chest first. Nemesis grabs the hurting Frenchman and then repeats his trick by hurtling Pierre across the ring the opposite way ¤ WHAMMO ¤ The Irish Whip has so much mustard on it that it carries Pierre Donette over the turnbuckles after he strikes them. In fact the Ace has so much force applied to him that he flies clean over the top rope and to the floor without even touching the apron. While Pierre is down hurting more than Napoleon after the Waterloo Professor Attenborough runs over to him and tells him exactly how much love there is between the British and the French None! 1! The referee starts to count since this isn’t a Hardcore match or any other match where the opponent can just lie around on the floor all night long. 2! Nemesis buttons his shoe! After he’s done with that he steps over the top rope and then down onto the mat at ringside. 3! 4! Whoa, whoa fast count!! Not that Nemesis seems to be bothered with the referee’s count, he only listens to the Professor after all and right now the professor is instructing him to lift the Ace up in the air. 5! For a man of Nemesis size and power that’s a small feat, one that takes but a second 6! Or maybe two at most before Pierre Donette is up high in the air only to be thrown over the top rope and inside the ring before the referee can reach 7. 7! Nemesis decides that he’s tired of stepping over the top rope and instead just slides under the bottom rope before crawling over towards Pierre Donette on all fours. Nemesis grabs his glove by the edge and tightens it before he slaps the claw hold on the Ace Mak: “This is Nemesis trademark!” King: “Really? It’s not being a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge guy in a fluorescent suit?” JBB: “Oui” Nemesis gets up on one knee, pulling Pierre up with him as he keeps the claw hold on tight covering more or less all of the Frenchman’s face. When Nemesis stands up Pierre stands up, he’s powerless to fight it. He’s also powerless to fight against Nemesis lifting him up in the air BY THE CLAW HOLD!! And holding him there for a moment or two. Showing that he’s obviously spent some time studying the tapes of Nemesis previous SWF matches Donette lashes out at the masked monster with a right knee that catches Nemesis in the jaw, then a second knee that spins Nemesis around enough for Pierre Donette to get his feet on the top rope. After a quick bounce on the ropes for good luck Pierre wraps both his hands around Nemesis’ wrist and leaps off. ARM DRAGGING THE MONSTER DOWN!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! Then when Nemesis makes a move Donette rushes in with a stiff right hand to Nemesis’ jaw. JBB: “Main droite!! Main droite!! Main droite!! Oh mon dieu quelle main droite glorieuse de mon compatriote! Le monstre mythique a massacré son dernier adversaire parce qu'il ne marchera pas hors d'ici avec une victoire ce soir! C'est impressionnant, ceci est exactement comment les Français l'obtiennent fait. Va te faire foutre George W. Bush, va te faire foutre les Etats-Unis, va te faire foutre et votre "liberté fait frire" parce que nous n'avons pas besoin de vous! Vive La France” King: “What the??” JBB: “Vive La France!!” As Jacques Baptist Bonaparte loses it on commentary telling everyone to kiss France’s collective keesters Pierre Donette does his best to keep the advantage by dropping a series of power drive elbows ¤ SMACK ¤ JBB: “Vive La France!!” ¤ SMACK ¤ JBB: “Vive La France!!” ¤ SMACK ¤ JBB: “Vive La France!!” After giving Nemesis an elbow and then its sequel and then THAT elbow’s sequel Donette takes a moment to turn to the crowd and shows them that he has no love for the local Canuckle heads OH BOOOO-DI-LI-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Apparently Edmonton has a large population of people with the last name Flanders. Mak: “If Donette keeps this on we may just see the two smaller Nemesis again” King: “Two smaller? What the hell are you talking about?” JBB: “Vive La France!!” King: “Yeah that’s nice but you’re not really contributing here!” Mak: “You know what I’m talking about, we both saw two short guys wearing the same type of outfit that Nemesis wears on Lockdown” King: “Have you been drinking? Two smaller Nemeses? That’s crazy talk” JBB: “Vive La France!!” Nemesis has managed to get back to his feet as Pierre was busy professing his love for his home country. The Ace just smirks arrogantly as he sees the big man up, then he goes for broke by running at the big man, ducking under a slow clothesline attempt by the Colossus leaping up to leg scissor Nemesis’ other arm foolishly hoping to land a Crucifix Bomb on the masked monster Silly Frenchman you can’t Crucifix Bomb Nemesis But HE can drop back driving the Ace into the ground with a Samoan Drop that rocks the ring, rocks Pierre Donette and rocks the video charts!! ¤ WHAMMO ¤ JBB: “MERDÉ!” After having dashed Jacque Baptist Bonaparte’s dreams of French supremacy Nemesis feels inclined to dash his opponent as well as he whips Pierre Donette into the ropes, catches him on the return and then drives the Frenchman into the ground with a Main Event Spine Buster! ¤ HUUUUUUUUUUUU-WHAM ¤ If the Ace thought he knew pain before then Nemesis gives him a whole new definition of what pain is as he places his huge boot on the Frenchman’s chest and then uses him as a stepping stone much in the same way Pierre will be a stepping stone for Nemesis in the SWF if he wins tonight. One of the fans at ringside has been yelling at Professor Attenborough all through out the match and the good (well the bad) professor has finally had enough as he forgets about the match and instead starts to tell the fan how most Canadians have at least one goat in their family tree somewhere and those that don’t only recently moved to Canada. King: “You tell ‘em Bill, lousy Francophilic bacon-loving bastards” Mak: “I see you’re doing your part for the American/Canadian brotherhood” With the professor distracted one thing is readily apparently, Nemesis doesn’t do jack squat without some sort of instruction, even if it’s vague like “kick his ass” or “Tear him a new one” it’s enough. But without ANY instructions at all from the Professor the big man just stands there in the ring, totally lost. And be glad that the professor was talking to the fan and not making a general comment that Nemesis might have interpreted as an order when he told the guy to go have intercourse with a goat. King: “Come on big man move, helloooooooooooooooooo??” Mak: “I’ve never seen anyone have such complete control over a guy, he’ll hardly breathe without being told to do so” King: “Speaking of breather, it’s giving Pierre here a breather” Mak: “Ouch talk about a painful segue” King: “I know, I know I think being in Canada is rotting my brain.” With Nemesis totally inactive Pierre Donette has been given a second chance at this match, an opportunity to catch his breath, to shake off some of the aches and pains and to reassess his gameplan for tonight. Since Nemesis isn’t moving Pierre isn’t making an attempts at attacking him either, he’s made the most headway when he’s reacted to Nemesis instead of acting towards him. So the two of them just stand there in the ring, waiting. Fans: “KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!!” The fans seem to want a bit of action going so they start to chant for something, ANYTHING to happen. The chant gets the professor’s reaction who turns his attention away from the goat shagging fan to the other goat shagging fans and ask them. Professor: WHO?? Fans: “WE DON’T CARE!! WE DON’T CARE!! WE DON’T CARE!!” The Professor seems to be annoyed with just how clever the Canadian fans are with their chants, and he’s yet to hear one single “This is awesome” chant, what sort of wrestling crowd is this?? Pierre obliges the fan request as he lands a Yakuza kick to Nemesis midsection, damn him for being so freaking tall. With the first one doing a bit of damage Pierre lines up for another Yakuza kick, gets a running start and ¤ YOWZA ¤ Nails the big man in his big bread basket with a move that has ironically never been used by the Japanese Mafia. With the mantra “Nothing succeeds like success” Pierre Donette decides to go for a third Yakuza kick when Nemesis stands up once more. ¤ PUKEARIFIC ¤ King: “You know if he aimed a little bit further south he’d not have to kick the big guy three times” Mak: “You mean like if he kicked him in Las Vegas?” King: “What??” Mak: “Las Vegas, that’s south of here. It was a joke, he, he, he” King: “Oh it was so funny I forgot to laugh” Three kicks to the stomach is enough to hurt anyone but despite the agonizing “I just had Taco Bell” level pain to his stomach Nemesis can’t stop attacking, after all the Professor ordered him to keep it up. Nemesis locks his fingers together while raising both hands for a clubbing blow as he tries to get back in the match. But Pierre Donette have other plans, much more serious and really hard hitting plans as the Ace spins 360 degrees and lands the Discus Lariat ¤ SMOCK ¤ If Pierre had been bigger, or inversely if Nemesis had been smaller the Discus Lariat would definitely have taken it’s victim down and down with AUTORITY~! But even after spinning around 228 pounds of twisted steel and French-appeal isn’t quite enough to knock Nemesis down but the big man is seriously thrown off kilter. Donette adds to the “kilter” by hooking Nemesis leg and driving his shoulder into the Colossus mid section. Mak: “TIMBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERR!” ¤ BAM ¤ Once Pierre has Nemesis legs bent up for the Iron Curtain he realizes that he’s cooked a bigger turkey than he can eat and Nemesis is once again (say it with me people) too damn big. With a frustrated snort Pierre pushes Nemesis legs away and then grabs the monster by the hair pulling his opponent up to his knees. Mak: “Heh! They’re almost the same size when Nemesis is on his feet.” Donette takes a half leap forward driving the tip of his boot into Nemesis midsection ¤ WHAM-KICK ¤ ¤ WHAM-KICK ¤ ¤ WHAM-KICK ¤ Figuring that one kick wouldn’t do enough for the big man Pierre Donette lays in THREE kicks in preparations for the Ace Crusher. The Ace then leaps on his opponent, grabbing him in a 3/4 headlock ready to finish the match off. BLOCKED!! Nemesis plants one of his massive feet on the ground giving him enough leverage to stop the Ace from hitting the Ace Crusher. The Colossus stands up, using his power to flip Pierre up on his shoulder, chest down trapped by the big man as he waits for the Professor tell him what to do. Mak: “Doesn’t this guy have an independent thought?” King: “Hey if you’re working with a man clearly smarter than yourself wouldn’t you take instructions from him?” Mak: “No” King: “Yeah I found that out the first night we worked together” Nemesis wraps both his arms tightly around Pierre Donette’s body in preparation for a move. In one smooth motion Nemesis flips Donette down and round into a side slam position and then drops all of his weight on top of the Frenchman ¤ WHAM ¤ After the side suplex Nemesis rolls over and puts all his weight on top of his fallen opponent 1!!! 2!!!! Big surprise: 3!!! ¤ DING-DING-DING! ¤ JBB: “MERDÉ!” Professor Attenborough enters the ring and motions for Nemesis to get up off his opponent as Nemesis’ eerie music plays and the lights flicker between green and normal. The referee grabs Nemesis by the wrist and then raises his hand in the air to indicate the winner. The only problem is that Nemesis wants to raise his hand much higher than the referee can reach which explains why Nemesis lifts the referee off the ground, the small man dangling from his wrist like a monkey Funyon: “The winner of the match The Colossus NEMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESIS!!!” King: “Score another victory for Nemesis, he seems to have recovered well after stumbling against Manson” Mak: “Donette put up quite a valiant fight tonight but it was just too much for him.” King: “Put him in there with guys closer to his size and I think it’ll be a different story” Mak: “Well I guess we have to say goodbye to Jacque” King: “Awww what a shame, hit the road Frenchy!”

The camera returns to SWF Smarkdown, panning around the Rexall Place in Edmonton, Alberta, and picking up various signs that are, to be honest, rather lame, and don’t bear repeating. It matters not, as it soon becomes too dark to read. Shortly thereafter, an echo rings out over the speakers, and the crowd rises to its feet. Another echo follows… …and then with a guttural howl, Cephalic Carnage’s “Scientific Remote Viewing” is in full gear, blasting out over the sound system as seizure-inducing strobes kick up and the man himself strides out of the curtain. Or, rather, the MANSON. “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon cheerfully as the Raging Bull begins striding down to the ring, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a twenty-minute time limit! Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado, weighing 230 pounds… MMMAAANNNSOOON!!” MANSON continues striding down to the ring in his robe covered in propaganda, including such statements as ‘DOGS CAN SMELL FEAR. MANSON CAN KILL FEAR,’ ‘WHEN AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE MEETS AN IMMOVABLE OBJECT, THE RESULT IS MANSON,’ and ‘THE M IN E=MC^2 IS FOR MANSON.’ Upon reaching the steps, he unbuckles his belt, his robe hanging open as he walks up the steps into the ring, stepping through the ropes before going to the far corner and standing on the middle rope, throwing up the metal horns to his people as the house lights go back up. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Smarkdown!” beams the Franchise. “I’m the Franchise, Mak Francis, joined as always by the Suicide King, and what a contest we have for you!” “A grudge match, if you will,” agrees the Heartbreaker. “MANSON and Johnson were tag team champions for almost fifty days, and broke up shortly thereafter. Since then the two haven’t met in the ring, although they have before on several occasions, Johnson coming out on top every time. We’ll see if MANSON can break the streak tonight.” “Indeed we will, King,” nods Mak. “Of course, by ‘if’, I mean ‘that’,” says King, correcting himself. “Now that MANSON is no longer afraid to unleash the full might of MANSONOSITY, he’ll easily dispatch of JJ.” “I have a different theory,” interrupts the Franchise, “one that doesn’t deal with mystical powers. MANSON will be looking to finally score a win over Johnson here tonight, and Johnson’ll be looking to score a win for the first time since he returned. All in all, it should be a hell of a ma-“ “HE HAS NOT CONFESSED, HE HAS MADE NO STATEMENT, CHARGES OF MURDER HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AGAINST HIM.” Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat” immediately kicks up, but instead of the usual smoke, strobes, and all that hooplah, the lights go back up, and Johnson immediately begins making a quick pace to the ring. “And his opponent!” booms Funyon over the roaring home-country crowd of the man he’s announcing, “from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… J! J! JOHNSON!!” Funyon finishes just before the Canadian slides into the ring, quickly shedding his track jacket. Seeing no reason to hold the match up any longer, referee Blaine Kalem calls for the bell. DING DING DING! Immediately, The Raging Bull and Dangerous J lock up, the two powerful junior heavyweights muscling around for a moment before breaking the tie-up. Johnson is first to act immediately thereafter, casting an elbow towards the jaw of the man from Colorado, but MANSON, having seen too many of those in his time, blocks it and immediately ducks around the Ultimate Fighter before hooking him in a rear waistlock. Knowing exactly what follows this, Johnson lowers his center of gravity, rendering a lift impossible. Deciding not to waste energy, MANSON picks a safe route, slapping on a hammerlock. “Nice opening exchange, showing how well these two men know each other,” nods the Franchise in approval as Johnson continues to prove that point by ducking under the arm and slapping on a hammerlock of his own. MANSON grimaces and slaps at his shoulder, but in a flash, he’s countered it back into a hammerlock; unfortunately, all of this countering has brought the two men near to the ropes, and Johnson is quick to reach out and grab on, forcing a break from the Raging Bull. MANSON backs away slowly as Johnson turns to face his opponent… and then the Denver native steps in again and fires a stiff kick to the chest of the home-country hero! *SMACK!* “BOOOO!” “Hey!” cries Mak, agreeing with the crowd. “Whatever happened to a clean break?” “Technically, that was a clean break,” notes the Heartbreaker, having given many technically clean breaks in his time. “Of course, judging from the look on JJ’s face, the only clean break we’re going to see is the one in MANSON’s skull.” To his credit, Johnson is doing his best to ignoring the stinging in his sternum, although he grimaces. The pain in his mouth doesn’t reach his eyes, however; those are devoted to leering at the Raging Bull, and with vengeance on his mind, Johnson quickly steps in and fires off an elbow! *CRACK!* MANSON is staggered by the blow, but only for a few steps; immediately, he bears down, grits his teeth for a moment, and then stands back up, rage in his eyes. The battle lines drawn, the two men lock up again, battling more vigorously for position than before; MANSON takes the advantage, ducking behind and trying for a half-nelson, but Johnson brings his arm down and then around, scooping MANSON’s arm in the progress and wasting no time taking the Raging Bull over with an ippon seoi. The judo throw carries MANSON into the ropes, rendering a follow-up impossible. *CRACK!* “YEEAAAHH!!” Well, unless your follow-up is a cheap kick to the ribs. This just so happens to be the case in this instance, and Johnson backs away from the Raging Bull shortly thereafter. MANSON muscles himself up, scowling, and Johnson simply stares back. “And Johnson shows MANSON who’s boss there,” notes King. “You’re not going to beat a world class judoka like JJ with go-behinds.” Snarling, MANSON locks up with Johnson. Not wanting to go through this again, Johnson pops him with an elbow. *CRACK!* Naturally, MANSON staggers, but only a step, and he fires another shoot kick to the chest of the Canadian! *SMACK!!* Again Johnson stands tall, mostly shrugging off the vicious blow… so MANSON takes it one step further. *SMAACK!!* “OOOOOOHH!!” “KICK TO THE THROAT! MANSON BOOTS JOHNSON IN THE THROAT!” screams Mak as Johnson’s eyes bug out of his head, the Canadian collapsing back into the ropes, holding his throat and gritting his teeth as he gasps for breath. “Well, you’re not going to beat JJ by pissing him off, either,” frowns the Heartbreaker. “This is one man against whom you definitely don’t want to go for the throat.” And indeed, even through the agony in Johnson’s eyes, there lies a vitriol never before seen. As MANSON stands back, chuckling to himself, referee Blaine Kalem checks on the Canadian, making sure he wants to continue. It seems that Johnson nods slightly, and that’s enough to satisfy Kalem, who steps away. As soon as he does, MANSON steps forward, looking to take advantage of the injured Ultimate Fighter… *CRAAACK!!* …only to find an infuriated Ultimate Fighter waiting for him, the normally-stoic Johnson exploding upwards with an elbow smash that rocks the Raging Bull to his very core! No tiny staggers this time as MANSON all but collapses under the force of the blow, and Johnson is hardly done yet, bouncing off of the ropes behind him before charging forward and nailing MANSON with a running elbow that sends him stumbling and then tumbling, dropping to the mat hard! *CA-RAAACK!!* To his credit, MANSON immediately begins muscling his way back up, but the only purpose that serves is to give him a target as JJ rockets forward with a running knee! *THWOCK!!* But MANSON blocks, and immediately explodes upwards, rocking Johnson with an elbow smash! *CRACK!* But Johnson shrugs it off and blasts MANSON with an elbow smash! *CRACK!* MANSON stumbles, if only from the countless elbows he’s already taken, but the Raging Bull is tougher than most men, and fires back with an elbow of his own! *CRACK!* Johnson shrugs this one off and unleashes a flurry of three elbows! *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* …before spinning, going for his rolling elbow… … and completing his rotation just in time to see MANSON leap sky-high for a gamengiri! *THWOCK!* Which Johnson uses his arm’s momentum to cross them in front of his face and block! MANSON agilely lands on one foot, but stumbles to the side, and Johnson shoots in, looking for a takedown, but the Raging Bull is ready, blasting him in the face with a knee smash! *CRACK!* FINALLY, Johnson is stopped, and MANSON tucks him in a standing headscissors before bending down and wrapping his arms around the waist of the Canadian! “MANSON Bomb!” shouts Mak as the Raging Bull takes some deep breaths, preparing for his lift. “Big-time move coming up here!” But while the move is coming up, Johnson isn’t, deadweighting to avoid powerbomb death. Frustrated, MANSON snarls, but abandons the headscissors and fires a few forearms into Johnson’s back! The Canadian buckles under the onslaught, but does not break, and instead backs up a few steps before standing upright, parrying a MANSON elbow and blasting him with an elbow of his own! *CRACK!* And another! *CRACK!* And another! *CRACK!* Before sending him back into the ropes, whipping him across the ring, and then sprinting as the Raging Bull makes his comeback before leaping sky high and taking MANSON off of his feet with a high-angle dropkick! Johnson flips through the move and lands on his stomach, bouncing up to his knees; MANSON, monster that he is, is already on his knees… so Johnson leaps to his feet and fires a stiff kick into the face of the Raging Bull! *SMAAACK!!* “OOOOOH!” shouts the crowd as MANSON’s eyes go out of focus and he bends back before slumping forward… right into a double underhook from Johnson, who tucks him in a standing headscissors before bracing, lifting… “TIGER DRIVER!” shouts King… …but it’s not to be, MANSON deadweighting and spinning out from the hold before cracking Johnson with an elbow! *CRACK!* The Canadian is stunned, and MANSON uses the opportunity to whip him into the corner… but Johnson reverses, handspringing out of the corner upon arriving, sailing over the still-running MANSON’s head and ready to crack him with an elbow as he turns. That was the plan, anyway, except MANSON has gone and screwed it up by not running. Instead, he’s caught JJ on his shoulder. “…oh, shit…” swears the Franchise. Most notably, everyone in the arena’s mind thinks at once as MANSON strides to the middle of the ring, the setup for the Emerald Frosion that Johnson calls… *BANG!* “ADF II,” says King resolutely as Johnson gets spiked on his skull, bouncing a few inches off of the canvas before slumping onto his back. Grinning from ear to ear and ignoring the jeers raining down for stealing the home-country hero’s move, MANSON slides on top of Johnson, not even bothering to hook a leg as Kalem slides in to count. ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! JOHNSON MANAGES TO FORCE HIS WAY OUT DESPITE THE LETHAL MOVE HE JUST TOOK! “Sweet Jesus!” cries Mak. “Johnson kicks out of his own ADF II, and this match is still going!” “Technically,” says King snidely, “the ADF II is Janus’. Besides, MANSON now has JJ on the ropes, and it’s all a matter of tossing out a big enough bomb to put JJ out of commission.” “Does MANSON have that, though?” asks the Franchise. “You watching Johnson right now?” the Heartbreaker fires back. “I give him a chop.” And while Johnson is valiantly – slowly, but valiantly – pushing his way to his feet, he’s completely out of it, a fact MANSON takes advantage of by immediately tucking him into a standing headscissors and throwing up the metal horns to jeers. Satisfied with the reaction, the Raging Bull reaches down and grapples the Canadian’s waist, bends his knees, and LIFTS… …and Johnson refuses to come off the ground. Grunting, MANSON bends low again… and Johnson fires a scorpion kick into his skull! Shaking his head and roaring, MANSON ignores the blow and jumps this time , getting even more strength and bringing Johnson UP… …and over, the momentum too much for Johnson to not be able to hop over the Colorado native’s head. Upon landing, Johnson, still dazed, has enough instinct to whirl on the spot and fire three quick shoot kicks into the back of MANSON’s knee! *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* “OOOOOOHH!” MANSON buckles, but instead of breaking, he spins backwards and fires a screaming elbow into Johnson’s jaw! *CRACK!* Johnson reels and almost falls, but instead fires back with a thrust kick directly to the kneecap! MANSON goes down to one knee, understandably, and the Canadian moves in… …just as MANSON EXPLODES TO HIS FEET AND CHARGES RIGHT THROUGH JOHNSON WITH A RAGING LARIATOOOOOO! *CRAAAAAAACKK!!* …but runs right into a huge fucking knee strike from the Ultimate Fighter! MANSON collapses, but Johnson grabs him and underhooks him, prompting a huge cheer from the crowd, as they know what’s coming! “Tiger Driver!” shouts Mak. “Looking to take it all here!” “Toxxic kicked out of this,” scoffs King. “MANSON sure as hell is going to.” Of course, to say that is to not know what’s coming, as Johnson lifts, MANSON just being able to see the lights past his chest… …at which point Johnson drops to his knees, spiking MANSON on his neck. And the entire building goes apeshit. ”RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!” “TIGER DRIVER ’91! TIGER DRIVER ’91!” screeches Mak, flailing about in place of leaping out of his seat. “TIIIIGER DRIIIVER NIIINNEETYYY-OOOOONEEE!!” Johnson simply holds MANSON in place, and the ref counts the academic fall. One. Two. Three. Ding ding ding. “Scapegoat” strikes up as Johnson immediately leaves the ring, shaking his head as he strides up the ramp, leaving Blaine Kalem to tend to the utterly-still MANSON. “Jesis Christ,” mutters King, softly. “Who’d expect him to pull that one out?” “I don’t know, King,” says Mak. “I don’t know. Stay tuned, folks.” FADE OUT

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN! Live, Monday, August 14th, from Rexall Place in Edmonton, Alberta! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MAIN EVENT - TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS Charlie "Grappler" Matthews and Tom Flesher ©© vs. Two Skinny White Guys (Michael Stephens © and Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix) --> After ripping the tag division apart one by one, Two Skinny White Guys have been groomed to challenge the absolutely magnificent team of Matthews and Flesher! Will the new Cruiserweight Champion defeat his number-one contender? Can he show the Heavyweight Champion that his challenge was for real? Or will Charlie Matthews' oft-injured neck come back to bite him again? It's the top talent in the SWF today, and it's YOUR main event! Rules: Standard. USE THE TAG ROPES! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP - I QUIT MATCH Bruce Blank © vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu (#1 Contender) --> Pop the colla, Bruce Blank! He's being remade and conducting himself as befits one of the SWF's top competitors. He's straying from his ultraviolent past, but this I Quit match might bring out the best in him... or the worst. Akira Kaibatsu won this contendership at Ground Zero, but promptly lost a Returning Contestant Decision match to Spike Jenkins, who waits in the wings for the winner of this match! Who gets the... uh, honor? Yes, that'll do.... of fighting the Spoon? Rules: A stick mic will be available for the wrestlers' use. The first wrestler to make his opponent say "I Quit" into the microphone wins the match and the International Championship. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- #1 CONTENDER MATCH - WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP Jimmy the Doom © vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke --> After a lengthy absence from the SWF, Jay Hawke made a triumphant return to his former glory by outlasting Bruce Blank in a ten-minute Hardcore Challenge on Lockdown! Joe Peters was so impressed that he decided to give Hawke a chance to fight his way back to the top of the rankings by facing off with top-ranked Jimmy the Doom! Rules: Standard. This is NOT an order of contendership match - only the winner becomes #1 Contender. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- CRUISERWEIGHT MATCH Birdman vs. "Iron" Mike Cross --> Birdman made an impressive return on Lockdown, dispatching Martin Hunt in his usual fashion. Michael Cross didn't have as much luck, as he suffered a tough loss to Tom Flesher via the King Cobra submission. Two talented cruiserweights face off, and the winner? The Fans! God, that was terrible. Rules: Standard with cruiserweight addenda. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MOVIN' ON UP! TO THE EAST SIDE! Nemesis vs. "The Ace" Pierre Donette --> Pierre Donette was slated to wrestle a dark match on Lockdown, and because it was a dark match, it wasn't seen on the television broadcast. Nonetheless, Joe Peters is impressed with his natural talent and sees him as someone who could be at the top of the promotion. Nemesis - the Nemeses? - is coming off a strong win against Manson, and is looking to move up the card. This is going to be a barnburner for sure! Rules: Standard -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING BOUT JJ Johnson vs. Manson --> JJ requested this match. Frankly, since he's ranked so low, we figured we'd throw him a bone. Rules: Standard -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Opening Promo: Dual Champion Tom Flesher! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Just put SNES9X on my laptop, and it's actually running old games too fast, and none of the options I've tried will slow them down. So I just got ZSNES and put it on there - games run fine, but the program doesn't recognize my controller (PS2 Dual Shock plugged in with USB converter). So I need either one of the following: 1) A way to make SNES9X slow down. or 2) A way for ZSNES to recognize my controller. Little help?

Stairway to Panda is edited in.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF AftershoxxXXXxXxXXxxx! Live, Friday, August 4th, from the General Motors Place in Vancouver, BC! (6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to Ace309) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH "The Superior One" Tom Flesher and Charlie "Grappler" Matthews vs. The New Doomtopians --> Aw yeah! Mandatory rematch time! The New Doomtopians have had ample time to study the tapes and formulate a strategy - can they avenge their loss against MatFlesh, and take back the tag team gold? Rules: Standard tag. USE TAG ROPES OR SUFFER A MANSONALITY. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Evolution -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH JJ Johnson vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu --> JJ Johnson, SOMEWHAT ANGERFUL~! at how his match at Ground Zero played out, takes solace in the fact that the man he faces tonight has fallen before him thrice before. But (I think) Akira won at Ground Zero, a hard-earned victory over Spike Jenkins - will this recent victory light a fire under his ass, and propel him to victory? Or will JJ extend the undefeated streak to 4-0? Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH - LADDER MATCH Michael Cross © vs. Zyon --> Zyon doesn't like Cross, because some would say Cross screwed him out of his Cruiserweight Title at 13th Hour by taking Akira's place after some serious ass-kicking. Cross doesn't like Zyon because Zyon's bitching is technically unfounded, and also, because Cross doesn't like anybody. Will Zyon get revenge on Cross? Will Cross cheer up, emo kid? Whose cuisine will reign supreme? CROSS. ZYON. BIG BATTEL AT GROUND ZERO. AND WHAT A BATTEL IT WAS. IT MADE THE TV CAMERAS EXPLODE. The exclusive re-airing of this match will be tonight, on Aftershoxxx! Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Nemesis vs. Insane Luchador -> Two men who came up short at Ground Zero, both looking to turn their luck around! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING BOUT "The Beast" Gabriel Drake vs. Scott Rageheart -> At Ground Zero, "The Beast" emerged, and after his match with Ced Ordonez, we know those "Fear the beast" promos were not to be taken lightly. Scott Rageheart, not known for taking people lightly, lines up as Gabriel's second opponent - let's see if he fares any better than the first. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Muzz -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- PLUS: We may see some more of Ground Zero's matches, depending on how whether or not they're late or just DNS's! And, as always, AftershoxxxxXXxx is match-light, which means PROMO HEAVY~! As usual, though, feel free to request matches here. NOTES: Yes, you read that right - send everything to TOM. From August 4th to August 11th, I am flying down to Loooooziana to visit some friends. Janus just recently stepped down, and Z is... uh... hell if I know... so Taamo will be taking over booking and show posting until my return. I have given him full authority to book himself in as many titles matches as he pleases. Act accordingly.

Spike vs. Akira has been edited in.

IGNWF card finally sees the light of day. Only six days late. I blame Tom and Z for continually coming up with ideas so good that I had to keep adding them on. Haven't seen it myself, but I'm told Nemesis vs. Manson was very close, which seems to be happening more and more around here, so it ain't all bad. Bruce and Toxx retain in freaking EPICS. No word limits does not mean you can assault us like that, you jerks! More comments to come. Aftershox Card in the works.

"WELCOME EVERYONE, TO IGNWF GROOOOOOOOOUND ZEEEROOOO!" shouts Curry-man, over the dull roar of the fans too tired to sit through another four hour Pay Per View. "I'm Curry-man, and alongside me as always is Matt Myers -" No... "-and first up, a real battle for the ages, as eight of our top competitors race for the lawn!" No... no, please... "-irst ever TLB - Tables, Ladders, and BEARS-" For the love of God, please... "-Pastor Dan Sarp-" No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Brimstone's eyes snap open, and he leaps out of bed and curls up in the fetal position in the corner, whimpering loudly. After a few seconds, he seems to regain his bearings - a hotel room. Raining outside. Late at night. 3:14 AM. The phone rings, nearly causing Brimstone to leap out of his skin. After catching his breath... "Hello?" "..." "Hey Iceman... no, no, I'm fine, I just... I just had the strangest dream..." "..." "We were on the World Tour, but then we started going to all these wierd places... Jurassic Park... that ReBoot show... it was fucked up, man..." "..." "Yeah, heh. Just a dream." "..." "Alright, I'll see you later. And hey, good luck against Bollywood tomorrow." Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for IGNWF GROOOOOOOOOOOOUND ZEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The fans, having just sat through a 4-hour PPV, aren't exactly cheering their heads off... BUT THEY WILL NOW~! "Here is the card!"

‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ JJ Johnson, one hand still gripping the back of his neck, places one hand firmly on the mat and starts to push. Kivell eyes him, ready to cease counting at the right moment… ‘FIVE!’ …and as Johnson starts to rise, Stephens follows suit. The World Champion is clearly having trouble breathing but he starts to struggle up as well, keeping an eye on Johnson. ‘SIIIXXXXX…’ …and just as Johnson gets up to two feet Stephens lunges forward, grabbing a front facelock. The impact on his neck causes the challenger to grunt in pain and gives Stephens a chance to spin to one side, bringing the Canadian down on the back of his neck with a spinning neckbreaker. However, Stephens doesn’t stop there as his slowly rolls back up to his feet, dragging his opponent with him, then twists around before sitting out with a Hangman’s neckbreaker. “That could have been it,” Mak notes, “the mistake that turns the match; Johnson took a gamble with the Swandive Headbutt attempt which didn’t pay off, and now Stephens has a virtual bullseye on his opponent’s neck.” The World Champion hasn’t ceased his assault either; as Johnson grabs at his neck and grits his teeth in pain Stephens is bringing him back up to his feet again, but this time grabs Johnson’s wrists - right hand to right, left hand to left - and pulls him into a headbutt. *CRUNCH!* The impact clearly shakes Johnson, but Stephens was using it only to guarantee that his next move isn’t opposed - and that move is to twists around so that he’s back-to-back with his opponent and JJ’s arms are crossed over his throat, then drop down with a Goku-Raku neckbreaker! “Toxxic is a coward and a pussy, targeting the injury like that,” Suicide King declares haughtily, “who the hell does he think he is? He should stand up and fight Johnson like a man, not take cheapshots!” “…says the man who holds up scorecards to rate lowblows,” Mak Francis sighs, “King, you know as well as I do that if you go into the ring with an injury you can expect your opponent to focus on it. The difference comes when someone isn’t focusing on it to win but to inflict further injury, and I’ve not seen any evidence of Michael Stephens doing that.” “Yet,” King mutters darkly. However, as the commentators bicker Stephens starts to roll over onto his front, keeping hold of Johnson’s wrists and trying to bring the Canadian over with him… but Johnson spreads his legs, stopping the roll and keeping himself on his back. “I think Stephens might be looking for that inverted Snowflake Clutch he picked up-” “-stole from Scott Pretzler,” King snaps. “whatever,” Mak says, “but either way, Johnson’s wise to it!” Indeed, the challenger has no intention of having his vertebrae stretched and is doing everything he can to avoid being turned over; accordingly Stephens gives up on that plan, releases his opponent’s wrists and just scrambles on top to make a cover: ONE! TWO!! …but Johnson kicks out! He rolls over onto his front to try and push himself up… and Stephens scoots off him, grabs the wrists again and locks the Goku-Raku in, then rolls forward down the length of his opponent’s body and bridges up to apply the hold he was looking for in the first place! “Now who’s been learning from Tom?” Mak smirks, looking sideways at King. “Even a blind squirrel finds some nuts,” King replies, possibly rehearsing for his other job as a wildlife documentary narrator. Meanwhile, JJ Johnson is in quite a considerable amount of pain; however, although he wasn’t able to block the move this time he is still aware of its nature, and its limitations. It looks fantastic, but Johnson knows that his opponent can’t hold the bridge for as long as Scott Pretzler could keep the Snowflake Clutch applied for. It is perhaps this that gives the Canadian the fortitude to hold on and stubbornly refuse to give up as Matthew Kivell asks him… and finally Stephens has to concede defeat, release the bridge and allow Johnson to flop forward to the mat. It’s something of a phyrric victory for JJ as his neck has been damaged still further, but at least he didn’t submit. Mind you, Michael Stephens has plans to change that, and the World Champion quickly grapevines his leg around Johnson’s before bridging back again, this time to grab a reverse chinlock. However, the Englishman then rolls over onto his front, elevating Johnson off the mat with an Inverted Muta Lock, removing his own need to hold a bridge and stretching Johnson’s body still further! “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!” The fans are firmly behind the World Champion, but JJ Johnson never spent much time listening to the fans anyway; after a couple of seconds of agonised thrashing he reaches up and starts clawing at Stephens’ fingers, finally managing to unlatch the chinlock before slumping to one side and rolling away to try and put some distance between himself and the champion. “Stephens needs to capitalise here if he’s going to put Johnson away,” Francis notes, “JJ’s shown that he’s adept at fighting his way out of submissions but they’ve taken their toll, and a big move from the champion could be the key to retaining.” “That right Mak, encourage Toxxic to go break some necks,” Suicide King says bitterly, “that’s all we need.” “I strongly doubt Michael Stephens will resort to those sorts of tactics,” Mak replies, bringing a snort of derision from the Gambling Man, “Lord knows he’s not perfect, but I think he’s beyond that now.” Neck-snapping tendencies aside, Stephens is certainly not letting up on Johnson and he grabs the rolling Canadian, drags him up to one knee and then takes him over with a snapmare. Johnson grabs the back of his neck again in pain, and this gives Stephens the time he needs to hit the ropes, rebound and plant both of his feet square into the challenger’s face with a running basement dropkick that fires Johnson onto his back. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Stephens seems to be starting to raise the tempo now he has Johnson on the ropes (or indeed, on the mat) and he heads for the nearest turnbuckles. Once there he quickly climbs to the top, twirls his fingers above his head in a little signal to the crowd, then leaps off forward with the somersault guillotine legdrop known as the Hangover! *WHAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” With Johnson spasming on the mat Stephens piles onto him for the cover, hooking the leg… ONE! TWO!! …and Johnson kicks out! Stephens doesn’t waste any time expressing disbelief to the referee, and instead drags Johnson up, then nails him with a European uppercut that staggers the wheezing Canadian. With that done Mike turns around, grabs a ¾ facelock and heads for the ring corner for the Sunny In England… but Johnson has enough wits left to shove him forwards, sending the World Champion chestfirst into the turnbuckles with winding force! And as Stephens staggers back JJ ducks his head under his opponent’s left arm and reaches round to cradle the leg… *BAM!* “Regalplex!” Mak Francis shouts. ONE! …but Johnson can’t hold the bridge! His neck gives way and he falls back, releasing the pinning cradle and rolling away, clutching at his neck again. Stephens just got dumped on the back of his head but he’s been having the better of it in the last few minutes and seems slightly stronger; he sits up, shakes his head groggily, then starts getting up even as JJ is struggling to fight through the pain. With both men getting back to their feet at about the same time it appears that the first person to strike a blow will gain the advantage… and Stephens nails a European uppercut to stagger Johnson backwards into the corner, then grabs hold of his opponent’s wrist and Irish whips him across the ring before following the Canadian towards the far corner. However, whatever scheme Stephens had in mind will not come to fruition, because Johnson leaps to the second buckle, then to the top, then corkscrews backwards to paste the onrushing World Champion in the head with a gamengiri! *CRACK!* “Johnson calls that the Dragon Flip,” Mak Francis exclaims, “and I think Michael Stephens just found out what it’s like to be on the receiving end of the Role Reversal that he used to use!” “Only Johnson’s version is much, much better,” King says simply, “because instead of a wimpy clothesline or stupid spinning dropkick he KICKS YOUR FACE!” “King, stop saying that.” “KICK YOUR FACE!!” That one does slow Stephens down, unsurprisingly, and now with the match starting to swing his way again JJ Johnson seems to be starting to shake off some of the ill effects he’s been suffering. The Canadian pushes himself up off the mat with more vigour than he’s displayed for some minutes, then grabs Stephens as the World Champion manages to achieve a rather wobbly sitting position and hauls him to his feet. From there Johnson seemingly uses Stephens’ arm to place himself in a front facelock… “I’m not sure if that’s such a good-” Mak begins. -and Johnson snaps backwards, taking Stephens over with a Northern Lights Suplex… ONE! …on which the bridge collapses again! Johnson rolls to one side clutching his neck and Stephens lays on his back staring up at the ceiling with the breath knocked out of him, but it is Johnson who starts to get up first… and he looks furious. “To be fair, I don’t know what JJ Johnson is so mad about,” Francis remarks, “it’s been his own moves that have meant he’s needed to hold bridges and has failed.” “But he’s still failed at something,” King points out as the rampaging Canadian grabs Stephens and starts to haul him up, “and he doesn’t take failure well. Toxxic weakened Johnson’s neck, so Toxxic has to pay for those failures.” “To be fair, Va’aiga played his part,” Mak reminds his partner. “Va’aiga,” King tells him, “ain’t here.” JJ Johnson brings Stephens into a standing headscissors, then reaches down for a double underhook. The World Champion automatically tries to wrench his arms free but Johnson has him locked tight and grins as he holds on… “You know, I’m not sure if this is such a good-” Mak begins, but he’s cut off as Johnson suddenly wrenches upwards, hauling Stephens off the canvas and into position for the Tiger Driver… but at the apex of the move as Johnson is releasing his opponent to drop into the powerbomb Stephens wraps his legs around the Canadian’s head and snaps backwards, hurricanranaing his way out of the move! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “Unbelievable!” Mak Francis shouts as the crowd rises in response, “I thought Johnson had him there, but Stephens manages to escape again!” “He’s riding his luck,” King snaps, “he won’t be so lucky next time!” As the crowd chant and the commentators argue it’s easy to miss the fact that Matthew Kivell has got to ‘THREE’ on the double count. Johnson is still favouring his neck whereas Stephens has just taken an all-over kicking - but this was Johnson doing the kicking, so damn. However, as Kivell bellows out ‘FOUR!’ both men start to stir… “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “You notice they’re not chanting for ‘Stephens’ now, are they?” Suicide King points out, “what do they know that we don’t, do you think?” “When to shut up,” the Franchise mutters. ‘FIVE!’ …and both men are up! Michael Stephens falls back onto his trusty European uppercuts, delivering one to Johnson and staggering him back onto the ropes before grabbing the Canadian’s wrist and Irish whipping him across the ring; he jumps up for a leapfrog, but Johnson holds onto the top rope to kill his momentum meaning that Stephens ends up jumping over precisely nothing, and the moment his feet touch the floor again Johnson hurtles towards him, leaving the mat to introduce Stephens’ jaw to a running high knee! *CRUNCH!* Stephens goes down, and Johnson drops to cover… ONE! TWO!! …and Stephens kicks out, still not willing to relinquish his title! That’s fine by JJ Johnson, because he has plenty of other ways of getting the belt off his former leader; however, at the moment you seem to get a two-for-one on massive head trauma at Canadian General Stores, because when he drags Stephens up to his feet and hooks him up you just know that you’re not going to be getting a plain ol’ vanilla vertical suplex. Not from my man JJ Johnson, oh no. “Brainbuster?” Mak asks. “Damn straight.” Johnson takes a firm grip on his opponent’s pants, grits his teeth because the fact that he has Stephens’ arm draped over his shoulder is going to hurt his neck, and lifts… …and brings Stephens more or less vertical… …and Stephens, as he has a tendency to do these days in these sorts of situations, knees his opponent square in the head! The shot staggers Johnson and he loses his grip, meaning Stephens’ feet fall back to earth before his head and on the way down he swings into a small package! ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHR- -but Johnson kicks out! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” “Good God, I thought Johnson just lost to another rollup there,” Mak breathes, “I was expecting carnage and possible genocide to ensue.” However, the challenger isn’t out of the woods yet; as he scrambles up from the mat he’s greeted by Michael Stephens’ black-nailed fists swung with a RIGHT! “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” LEFT! “YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” RIGHT? NO! Johnson knows this game, and ducks under the third swing before deciding to show Stephens how it’s done and nailing him with a left-armed elbow smash- *CRACK!* A palm strike! *SMACK!* And another! *SMACK!* A left-footed kick to the ribs! *THWACK!* And a right-footed one! *whump* …which Stephens catches under his left arm, then reaches out and piefaces the startled Johnson to the ground before twisting his opponent onto his back and locking his legs together! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Regal Stretch!” Mak yells above the din, “JJ went to the well once too often and if Stephens can get this locked in…” Johnson is thrashing around, but Stephens isn’t going to make the same mistake as he did before. Conscious that Johnson is aware of his shifting weight he feints one way, then the other, then as Johnson lashes out backwards with his right elbow Stephens snakes his left arm underneath his opponent’s and traps it before managing to get a ¾ nelson facelock in place! “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!” “He’s got it!” Francis exclaims, “this has won Stephens the World Title before, and take it from the Franchise ladies and gentlemen, it hurts like a bitch!” JJ Johnson is tied up with nowhere to go; legs crossed and grapevined by Stephens’, right arm bent up uselessly at an angle and left arm scrabbling at the mat, unable to get enough of a purchase to do anything like drag over 400lbs across the canvas towards the ropes. All the Canadian can do is hang on grimly and somehow hope for a respite. Stephens is wrenching at his neck as hard as he can, but Johnson has always been and will always be a fighter. He grimly hangs in there, refusing to give… …and as Michael Stephens has found before, the Regal Stretch is not a comfortable hold to apply. Against a suitably worn-down opponent it can be very effective, but against someone determined to hold on it has its own risks - after a hard-fought match you can be prone to cramping up, and with your body twisted around to apply the hold it’s a real danger. Stephens knows that he can’t risk an attack of cramp in a match like this against an opponent like this, and so he makes his decision. And releases the hold. “Hah! Johnson outlasted him!” King scoffs. “For the moment,” Mak says, “I don’t think Stephens is done yet.” The Franchise is in the right of it, because as Johnson tries to get some life back into his body the World Champion grabs him and drags him to his knees, then quickly slaps on a double underhook. A second later and Stephens rolls back, applying a bodyscissors and locking in the RTF II! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Oh, damn…” King mutters. Matthew Kivell leans down to check on JJ Johnson and see whether the Canadian wants to quit, but Johnson isn’t finished yet. Shaking his legs out to try and get some of the aches out Johnson starts scrabbling on the mat, trying to bull forwards… but not to push Stephens into the ropes. Instead the wily challenger is trying to rock the Englishman back onto his shoulders and force him into a pinning predicament. Meanwhile Stephens wrenches on the hold as much as he can, trying to beat JJ to the punch… but his shoulders go down… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHR- -but Stephens releases his hold at the last moment! He gets his shoulders off the mat and rolls away, disentangling himself from Johnson who seems grateful for the break; however, Johnson knows that he won’t win the World Title lying on the mat and he forces himself upwards. Stephens seems shocked at his opponents persistence and JJ tries to add to this surprise with a roundhouse kick… but Stephens ducks, then headbutts Johnson in the back of the head! *CRUNCH!* Johnson staggers forwards… and Stephens runs past him, grabbing a ¾ headlock as he goes and heading for the turnbuckles as the crowd explodes! The World Champion pushes off the first buckle, the second, the third… he arcs backwards, looking to come down and drive the back of Johnson’s head into the mat… …and JJ Johnson manages to break his opponent’s grip and takes a sidestep, then catches Stephens on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry! “What?” Mak barks. “YES!” King yells exultantly. But Johnson’s work is only half-done; he strides forward into the middle of the ring then shoves Stephens off his shoulders, and as the World Champion plummets towards the unforgiving canvas Johnson helps him out by kneeing him in the fucking head! *WHAM!!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “That was the Oyasumi Nasai,” Mak Francis gasps, “and Michael Stephens… he could be unconscious, King!” Indeed, the body of the World Champion doesn’t look to have a great deal of life in it and Matthew Kivell leans down to check on him, but is then shoved out of way by JJ Johnson! Kivell turns to remonstrate with the Canadian, but instead of making a cover Johnson is heading to the outside of the ring, stepping through the ropes and then starting to scale the turnbuckles… “Bad plan, BAD PLAN!” King shouts, “just pin him!” But JJ Johnson isn’t listening. He’s reached the top rope now and he looks down at Stephens, then narrows his eyes. The Englishman is within easy reach of the headbutt and the Damage Done… which to use… “He’s taking too long,” Mak Francis says to anyone who’ll listen. JJ Johnson reaches his decision. He straightens up on the top buckle. He leaps off… …Michael Stephens rolls to one side and scrambles to his feet… …and JJ Johnson lands no more than three feet from the ringpost, rolls to break his fall, and comes up to drive a knee into the gut of the startled World Champion! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “He suckered him in!” Mak exclaims in amazement, “Johnson thought Stephens had one trick left, and he drew it out of him!” Stephens is bent double, gasping for air. Johnson doesn’t need a second invitation. Standing head scissors: check. Double underhook: check. Hoist your opponent off the ground, flip them over and drive them down onto their fucking back… *WHAM!* …check. “TIGER DRIVAAAAHHHHHHHH!” ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! … … … … … … … … NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “WHAT!?” King yelps. “That… that’s not right! Dammit Francis, that’s not right!” OK. So maybe Stephens isn’t quite out of tricks yet. “King, I’m as shocked as you are!” Mak Francis exclaims as JJ Johnson looks up at Matthew Kivell with sheer, unadulterated disbelief written on his face, “I can’t remember the last time I saw Michael Stephens kick out of a hit like that! You’re going to have to go back very nearly two years, in the run-up to Genesis V when he faced Johnny Dangerous for the World Title and kicked out of the MI Slam!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The chants are growing now, swelling to fill the Gund Arena. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” It’s hard to tell whether they make JJ Johnson any more annoyed than he already is, but a couple of seconds after the shock has worn off the Canadian is clearly back into furious mode. No-one does that to him on an international Pay-Per-View. Accordingly he grabs Stephens by the hair, ignoring the words of Matthew Kivell, and drags the wobbly World Champion back up to something approaching a vertical base. He hooks a double underhook again… and Stephens manages to squirm his right arm free! “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Johnson pounds on Stephens’ back with a couple of forearm shots, then reaches down and rehooks his opponent. The Canadian’s eyes are narrowed and his scowl is something ferocious, and this time he manages to hoist Stephens off the mat either for the Tiger Driver or for the much more dangerous and fearsome Tiger Driver ‘91... but we’ll never know which, as Stephens swings both feet up into Johnson’s face! *CRUNCH!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “You won’t catch Michael Stephens like that more than once,” Mak Francis says as King covers his eyes, “and-Sweet Baby Jesus!” Stephens has dropped back to the floor, just about managing to land on all fours, and as Johnson staggers back he reaches up and grabs a ¾ facelock then turns around and heads for the ringropes - not the turnbuckles, the actual ropes - and runs up them, then backflips off the top one to drive the back of Johnson’s head into the mat with the Sunny In England! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “He got it!” Mak roars, “he finally got it!” Stephens doesn’t have the energy to hook the leg, he simply reaches forward and rests one arm and part of his chest across JJ Johnson, hoping that will be enough as Matthew Kivell drops to make the count… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It was. …NOT! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” “King, I’m not sure if I can take much more of this!” Mak Francis says, displaying a very un-Franchiselike rufflement and Matty Kivell shakes his head and brandishes two fingers to the world, “what the hell does one of these men have to do to get a win?” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” There are now warring chants inside the Gund Arena rather than the partisan support for the Englishman that was audible before. Whatever their views on the respective natures of the competitors taking part in the match, enough of the crowd have developed enough damn respect for JJ Johnson to chant his name. “JJ Johnson is tougher than boot leather,” King claims, “he’s harder than nails, he’s goddamn superhuman, Mak!” Leaving aside King’s possibly slightly extravagant claims, Johnson certainly is tough. The Sunny In England seems to have taken most of Stephens’ remaining energy and although both men are stirring, neither one is doing it quickly. Kivell checks to see if he needs to do another double count but as he starts to raise his hands Stephens wobbles upright, hesitates for a moment to make sure that he can stand properly before he tries to move, then heads towards his opponent. Johnson is on all fours and Stephens brings him up, then locks his arms around the Canadian’s chest for a Side Effect… “LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” …but Johnson elbows his way out, repeatedly ramming his right elbow into Stephens’ head to break the Englishman’s grip before grabbing his opponent’s left arm and threading it between Stephens’ own legs, then securing it on the other side with his left hand and throwing his right arm across the champion’s chest, ready for a wrist-clutch Exploder… “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …but Stephens elbows his way out of that, and knees Johnson in the gut! “LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The challenger is wheezing, desperately trying to snatch some oxygen into his lungs, but Michael Stephens doesn’t intend to give him a chance to recover. He places Johnson into a standing headscissors, and now it’s his turn to apply a double underhook. “No,” King says, shaking his head, “not that! NOT THAT DAMN YOU!” Whatever it is Stephens is planning, JJ Johnson wants no part of it. He struggles to free his arms… and fails. He plants his feet and tries to backdrop his way out of the move… and the screaming pain in his neck cuts that off at the pass as well. Before he can try again Stephens lifts, hoisting him up and over, then dumping him down on his back with a butterfly suplex… *BANG!* …before rolling backwards, the arms still locked in place… “LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …and coming up into a sitting double-underhook with wraparound bodyscissors. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “RTF II!” Mak yells, “or as near to it as makes no difference… the only difference being that this time JJ Johnson has nowhere to go!” JJ Johnson’s legs are splayed out uselessly to either side, weighed down by his opponent. His arms are bent up behind his back, his chest is slowly being constricted by Stephens’ legs and most importantly of all, his neck is being crushed downwards. Stephens leans back, throwing every ounce of weight he can into the move, and this time JJ Johnson has no choice. He can’t force a pin. He can’t find the ropes. He can’t even move, and he certainly can’t outlast Michael Stephens on this one. Sometimes, the most important part of being a fighter is knowing when to admit that, this time at least, you are beaten. *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms as Stephens releases his hold and collapses backwards, looking nearly as exhausted and hurt as JJ Johnson (who slowly unfolds in the other direction) while ‘Rookie‘ crashes out through the Gund, “the winner of this match and STILL SWF World Heavyweight Champion… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Referee Matthew Kivell takes possession of the SWF World Heavyweight Title from the timekeeper and helps Michael Stephens to his feet, then hands the Big Gold Belt to the Englishman and raises his right arm in the air. Meanwhile, JJ Johnson is now sitting in the corner of the ring, one hand nursing the back of his neck. “King, we’ve seen yet another memorable battle for this title,” Mak Francis says, “and I think that Ground Zero this year has proven to be just as exciting, just as action-packed and just as controversial as last year, but I have to ask you; where now, for the SWF?” “Hopefully off this fucking Fictional World Tour,” Suicide King responds on instinct, “but if you mean in terms of the World Title Francis, I’d have to say that I’m expecting either Tom Flesher or possibly Charlie Matthews to throws their hats into the ring anytime now.” “Fans, we’ve seen newcomers in the forms of Nemesis and ‘The Beast’ Gabriel Drake - and what’s his agenda? - as well as amazing cruiserweight action,” Mak Francis says, “plus a throwback stipulation to the days of the IGNWF, and now we’ve finished with two of the top talents in the world today battling for the biggest prize on the table… but this is only just the beginning, because in just over a month we will have the biggest show of all time! That’s right… THE ROAD TO GENESIS VII STARTS HERE!” Michael Stephens, battered, bruised and exhausted, stops in the middle of the ring and catches the eye of JJ Johnson. The Canadian is still sitting in the corner, crushed as much by disappointment in his failure to achieve the World Title again as by any painful submission hold applied by the Englishman. Stephens nods in acknowledgement… and after half a second’s hesitation, Johnson nods back. Then turns his head and looks the other way. Stephens throws the title belt over his shoulder and eases his way out through the ringropes before starting back towards the dressing rooms. He’s fought off stiff competition, he’s retained the greatest title and he’s proved once more that he’s the top wrestler around… but he knows only too well that for every challenger defeated there’s a couple more waiting in the wings. As well as the possibility of other, less pleasant people. The last camera shot of SWF Ground Zero 2006 is one from behind of Michael Stephens walking up the entrance ramp, head down, paying no attention to the cheering and whooping fans on either side of him. FADE OUT ©2006 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation ‘Raising Workrate By Attracting N00bs”

As Ground Zero’s theme music 'Warpigs' continues to roll around the Gund Arena the Smarktron suddenly changes, throwing up a new graphic. On one side of the screen is a hard-faced young man with dark, curly hair and wearing a red-and-white track jacket. He folds his arms and glares at the camera as writing flashes up underneath him. ‘JJ JOHNSON’ “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” On the other side of the screen is another young man, although a rather paler one. His straight, blue-black hair hangs in curtains down to his chin and frames a face with steel-grey eyes and thin, faint scars that catch the light as he cracks his neck from side to side. Over his shoulder is a familiar heavy gold belt. ‘MICHAEL STEPHENS’ “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The same belt that currently rests over Stephens’ shoulder now flashes up, momentarily obscuring the two men before receding to take its place on the screen below them and exactly equidistant from them both. ‘SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE’ “Well SWF fans, it’s time for our main event,” Mak Francis says, “we’ve had an evening of top-quality action and entertainment so far, but now it’s time to kick things up another notch as two of our most respected competitors do battle for the greatest prize in the business today.” “Most respected by you perhaps,” the Suicide King snorts, “personally I view it as a travesty that Tom isn’t wrestling for this title.” “First of all King, you’re starting to sound a little like Bobby Riley,” the Franchise informs his commentary partner, “and secondly, you know as well as I do that Tom Flesher is perfectly capable of getting into the main event as and when he chooses to. I may have had some issues with my old friend’s conduct over recent weeks and months, but I won’t deny that he is still as great a wrestler as he ever was.” “It’s the new style,” King laments, “schooling people on the mat is all very well, and perfectly justifiable, but Peters wouldn’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch. To impress the top brass I think Tom really needs to start head-dropping some bitches again.” ‘I do that rather well…’ “Here we go,” Mak says, looking around as Lord Worm’s voice comes over the PA system. ‘…don’t you think?’ …and Cryptopsy’s ‘Crown of Horns’ suddenly rages through the arena, all screaming vocals, brutal guitars and jagged drums. Most of the crowd start booing, although a few openly display their admiration for a man who while hard to like is easy to respect (if you know what’s good for you). The man who appears at the top of the entrance ramp doesn’t really seem to give a damn what anyone thinks of him; he pauses for a moment to look at the ring, then starts striding down towards it without looking right or left. “This is JJ Johnson’s fourth attempt at scaling the mountain and winning the World Title,” Mak Francis reminds viewers, “he came up short twice against El Luchadore Magnifico after some rather questionable tactics on the World Champion’s part-” “Oh come on, as if anyone would have been able to beat Magnifico,” King snorts, “Johnson’s good, but he’s not on Magnifico’s level.” “-you may believe that, but I’d beg to differ,” Francis replies. “Magnifico was so worried about Johnson that he even hired TKO to protect himself from the Canadian, and had to use a chair to beat Johnson in their second meeting. Then of course Johnson faced off against former stablemate Landon Maddix for the vacant World Title after Wes Davenport left the SWF and came within touching distance of the belt, but Landon just edged him out.” “Now that one I will give you,” King nods, “complete fluke. Johnson should have had him.” “We know that Michael Stephens has said that he doesn’t expect those defeats to give Johnson anything except a greater desire to win,” Mak Francis continues as the Canadian starts to mount the ring steps, “but King, I have to ask; more so than the memories of his former failures, would you agree that is perhaps Johnson’s most recent loss to Va’aiga, the Maori Badass, that could hinder him tonight?” “OK, so Va’aiga put him out of action for a bit,” the Suicide King replies, “but if Johnson could come within an inch of beating someone that much bigger and stronger I don’t think he’ll have any problem kicking Toxxic around tonight.” “I was more referring to the injury the Va’aiga left him with,” Francis explains, “as the Va’aiga Stinger left Johnson requiring some minor surgery. This is the first time he’s been properly cleared to wrestle, and I know from personal experience with my knee that once you’ve had an injury of that sort it isn’t just a physical weakness; it’s a psychological one. Johnson isn’t a Flesher who plays a low-risk, high-percentage game; he’ll hit you with everything he has from the word go, but that means he can sometimes leave himself open. He’s tough enough that normally it won’t matter, but not only will he have to consider a possible weakness he hasn’t had before, but he’s going up against Michael Stephens who bases his entire gameplan around his opponent’s neck and head. So I put it to you King; in this situation, does Johnson go for his normal balls-to-the-wall approach and hope he can take anything Stephens dishes out in return, or does he, in the biggest match of his career, try and wrestle a new style that he’s not familiar with?” “To be honest Mak, that’s a question that only Johnson can answer,” the Suicide King responds, “but I have a lot of confidence in him. He’s still the longest-reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time, he’s tough as nails, punches above his weight and while his game will never be complete for as long as he doesn’t cheat, he also doesn’t go in for remorse or compassion. After taking the belt from Toxxic tonight, I think he’ll prove a worthy opponent for Flesher when Tom wins the World Title for the third time.” JJ Johnson is in the ring now and has stripped his track jacket off. The Canadian raises both arms, although it seems more for his own benefit than in any interest of the crowd’s reaction. He tries a couple of practice kicks and it seems that Johnson is ready for anything. Which is just as well, because someone’s coming to test that theory: “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” The lights all hit full and the Smarktron whites out as the raucous, rolling chant is suddenly drowned out by the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire. The Smarktron starts to fade down to black again, and as it does so jagged white letters flash up a familiar phrase one word at a time, almost as if it was a response to the Suicide King’s last statement: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd rise to their feet as the Smarktron starts flashing up clips from matches; the All-Show Brawl with the Insane Luchador in Philly; the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas; a Caffeine Bomb on Nathaniel Kibagami; bringing Landon Maddix down with the RTF II. As the song starts to build the shots change once more, to Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Stephens Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!* -blast of red pyro that signals the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman as the main riff thunders out! And through the flame and smoke… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …with the World Title strapped around his waist, over the top of his customised England soccer shirt… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …head down, black hair hanging down over his face and his eyes hidden in shadow… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …comes the man once known as Toxxic. “He’s had more wins in World Title matches than anyone else on the roster,” Mak Francis says, “and that includes Tom Flesher. He was the first SWF wrestler to come into the company after the SJL folded, and he was the first non-SJLer to win the World Title. He holds singles wins over SWF legends like Tom Flesher, Danny Williams, El Luchadore Magnifico, Sacred and Nathaniel Kibagami, and history suggests that on the right day he’s nigh-on unbeatable… BUT tonight Michael Stephens faces a man who has the potential to outgun him in so many different areas, a man who has a hunger for the title like few others we’ve seen, and perhaps most importantly a man who travelled and teamed with him for several months. It remains to be seen whether JJ Johnson’s time in Revolution Zero will give him the insight to beat this new, more conservative Michael Stephens, but in my book he has a good a chance as anyone else in this company at the moment.” “Even Tom?” King snorts in disbelief. “Even Tom,” Mak Francis repeats stubbornly. “Tom isn’t used to facing someone who’s beaten him one-on-one without a victory of his own to balance it out. To be honest King, I’m not sure how his ego would handle it. Johnson’s never faced Stephens in any form of match, so they’re both working from a blank slate.” Michael Stephens has paused at the bottom of the ramp. He crosses his arms for a second in the straight-edge ‘X’ sign, then immediately throws them wide into his trademark crucifix position with the palms flat to the floor; as he does so the ringposts erupt with more red pyro, and the first verse kicks in! *BOOOM!* ‘I never thought this could be me I guess you never do until it’s happening to you Like all the fun turned into shame And all the “could-have-beens” rearrange…’ Johnson doesn’t blink as the fireworks go off around him, and Stephens rolls into the ring before getting back to his feet and unbuckling the World Title. Matthew Kivell takes it from him and the World Champion strips off his England shirt before wadding it up and hurling it into the crowd, where two heavily-eylinered girls in the second row start fighting over it. Funyon advances from his corner and raises his microphone to begin proceedings… “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest will be presided over by SWF Head Referee Matthew Kivell. It is the main event of the evening, and is for the SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPIONSHIP!” “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Introducing first, in the corner to my left,” the veteran ring announcer continues, “from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he stands at six feet one inches tall and weighed in earlier today at 228lbs; he is still the longest-reigning SWF Cruiserweight Champion of all time, this is JAY… JAY… JOHNSON!!” Johnson gives a slight nod as if to confirm his identity, but otherwise doesn’t remove his gaze from the man standing across the ring from him; former team-mate and associate, if not friend, but for tonight nothing more than an enemy to be defeated. “…and his opponent,” Funyon declares, “in the corner to my right; from Nottingham, England, he stands at six feet even and weighed in earlier today at 218lbs; he is your four-time reigning and defending SWF World Heavyweight Champion… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” With his duty discharged until the end of the evening Funyon steps out of the ring. Matthew Kivell shows the belt to both men, who nod in acknowledgement, then the referee hands it out to a member of the ring crew and signals for the bell… *DING-DING-DING!* …and both men charge as soon as it sounds! Stephens lays in with a right hand that catches Johnson on the jaw, but the Canadian takes it without flinching and fires back with one, two, three elbow smashes that not only stop Stephens in his tracks but drive him back onto the ropes. Johnson grabs his opponent’s wrist and starts an Irish whip but Stephens reverses the momentum, sending JJ into the far cables instead. As Johnson rebounds Stephens leaps up and hurdles the onrushing Canadian, then as Johnson bounces off again the World Champion hits the deck. Johnson manages to avoid the tripping hazard but as he comes off the ropes for a third time Stephens, already back to his feet, leaps up and wraps his legs around Johnson’s head to take the challenger over with a hurricanrana! Johnson’s momentum sends him skidding across the ring on the back of his neck, finally coming to rest as he slides underneath the bottom rope. He grabs on and prevents himself falling to the floor, then starts to get back to his feet on the apron; however, Stephens has other ideas and runs for the corner nearest to his opponent, bounces off the second rope and leaps clean over the adjacent top rope to catch Johnson with another hurricanrana, this one taking both men to the outside! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “What a start!” Mak Francis exclaims, “both men are going hell for leather… and they’re not slowing down yet!” Indeed, Stephens is up first from the fall he engineered and quickly rolls under the bottom rope back into the ring. He looks around to check on his opponent’s position, then starts sprinting for the far ropes and rebounds off to come hurtling across the ring. JJ Johnson is just getting to his feet on the outside when Stephens leaps into the air and goes sailing over the top rope once more, this time coming down onto his opponent with a somersault senton! *WHAM!* “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” The crowd are eating up this high-octane start to the match and Michael Stephens doesn’t see any harm in encouraging them to have a good time; it takes him a couple of second to get himself together and get back up from his dive to the outside, but once he’s back on his feet the World Champion waves his arms to coax more noise! “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” With the now-famous chant ringing through the arena Stephens bends down and pulls Johnson up, then rolls the challenger under the bottom rope and into the ring. However it’s going to take more than a few bumps to put JJ Johnson down for any length of time, and as Stephens rolls in after him Johnson lashes out and kicks him in the face! *SMACK!* This understandably stops Stephens in his tracks, and Johnson takes the opportunity to scoot around on the mat and grab a front facelock, then threads his right arm underneath his opponent’s left one and hauls Stephens to his feet. From there the Canadian abruptly snaps backwards, bringing Stephens over with a half-hatch suplex and bridging for the pin… ONE! …but Stephens kicks out quickly, although he’s not able to escape his opponent’s clutches. Johnson drags the champion up to his feet again but keeps him bent double, then changes his grip to Stephens’ hair with his left hand before driving the point of his right elbow into the back of the Englishman’s skull! Stephens staggers and Johnson hits another, but as he raises his right arm for the third Mike reaches up and grabs Johnson’s hand that’s holding him, then before the challenger can react he twists behind him and comes up with a hammerlock! Johnson reacts instantly and lashes backwards with his right elbow, but Stephens leans back out of the way and then transitions the hammerlock on JJ’s left arm into a chickenwing before grabbing the back of his opponent’s tights with his right hand and lifting Johnson off his feet, then sitting out and driving the Canadian into the mat with a facebuster! *WHAM!* “We’ve seen Stephens use a half-nelson facebuster before,” Mak Francis says, “but he adapted it to a chickenwing there and turned defence into attack.” “He needs the practice,” Suicide King sniggers, “because when you face Johnson you get to do a lot of defending!” However, Stephens has no plans for letting Johnson regain his advantage yet; instead the champion goes into a back mount and transitions the chickenwing back into a hammerlock which he now controls with his right hand. While doing that he reaches over with his left arm and tries to hook that under JJ Johnson’s right to get a ¾ nelson. Johnson is caught by surprise and Stephens secures the hold, then twists to one side and brings Johnson over onto his back for a pin. ONE! …but Johnson manages to get a shoulder off the canvas! However, he can’t go very far and Stephens forces him back down again… ONE! …and once more Johnson manages to escape the pinning predicament. Figuring that perhaps this isn’t going to work just yet Stephens uses his grip to bring the challenger up to a sitting position, then immediately swings behind him and threads his legs under Johnson’s arms to apply his seated double-leg nelson, while the crowd applaud. “…and this goes back to what I was saying about the more conservative Michael Stephens,” The Franchise remarks. “He went for the high-risk offence at the start, probably to try and steal a march on Johnson, but the moment it looked like JJ was getting his measure he got a takedown and has now gone back to basics. I doubt I’ll ever be praising Michael Stephens as a technical workhorse or model of mat wrestling form,” Mak adds, “but he’s rounded his game out since his sabbatical.” “He’s lost his edge,” King argues, “he’s trying to play jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none; now he’s in the ring with someone like JJ Johnson instead of the Insane Luchador, or Landon Maddix, or Zyon, he’ll realise that his only hope of winning would have been hit-and-run-and-hope. I’m telling you Mak, Johnson will destroy Toxxic on the mat or in a stand-up brawl.” However, at the moment Johnson doesn’t appear to be in a position to destroy very much, except perhaps his own posture as Stephens applies the pressure and bends his neck forwards. JJ doesn’t seem to appreciate having his neck targeted and starts to fight against it; for a moment it seems that it’s a futile gesture, but then as the challenger digs in and starts to straighten his body out he begins to first compress Stephens slightly, then rock the champion backwards! “We saw Zyon try this trick, and he nearly got a pinfall out of it,” Mak Francis notes, “JJ Johnson isn’t too proud to learn from his old enemies!” Zyon didn’t have a bum neck though, and Stephens responds to this new challenge in a way that is almost quintessentially British; he punches Johnson in the back of the head until the Canadian’s pain threshold is breached and he ceases his efforts. With Johnson returned to a fully seated position Stephens decides he might as well try and press his advantage and starts to straighten his body again, sloooooowwwwly forcing JJ Johnson forward and down into an ever-more uncomfortable position… …and then suddenly rolling to one side! A startled Johnson is dragged with him, and ends up stacked on his shoulders as Stephens finishes on his front… ONE! TWO!! …but Johnson kicks out! He manages to roll backwards out of the pin and lands on his knees, freeing himself from Stephens’ hold; it also puts him behind Stephens and the World Champion isn’t quite quick enough to his feet, because Johnson explodes up and drives an elbow into the back of his head, then as Stephens staggers and turns to face his attacker the challenger unloads with punishing kicks to the body! *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* Stephens is driven back into the corner by the force on the onslaught, and referee Matthew Kivell has to intervene as Johnson seems intent on kicking the Englishman’s ribs out through his spine, ropebreaks be damned! “You see?” King asks as Johnson smoulders beyond Kivell while Stephens sinks down into a half-crouch, clutching at his chest with his face screwed up in pain, “if Johnson can catch Toxxic napping, which he will more and more as this match goes on, he’ll pummel him to a pulp.” Michael Stephens takes a couple more breaths and then rises back to a vertical position; Matthew Kivell signals that’s good enough for him and steps aside to let JJ Johnson approach, but the moment the Canadian comes within reach Stephens drops and grabs his legs, falling backwards and pulling the challenger down facefirst into the second turnbuckle. From there Stephens gets back to his feet (not without a wince at the pain in his chest mind you) and proceeds to jump onto Johnson’s upper back, then moonsault off and land on his feet behind the downed Canadian! With Johnson still resting on the middle buckle Stephens runs up to the corner and leaps over the top rope while keeping hold of it… …then swings back in, coming in feetfirst between the top and middle ropes and delivering a devastating basement dropkick to the side of Johnson’s head! *SMACK!* “OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “I’ve never seen that before!” Mak Francis exclaims as Johnson comes to rest a couple of feet away from the ringpost, “Michael Stephens taking his improvisation to a new level here tonight!” “It was just a dropkick to the head,” King snorts, “no matter what he did to get there. Toxxic is style over substance, and Johnson’s the complete opposite. That’s why JJ will murder Toxxic in there tonight.” Stephens seems to have other ideas though, and the World Champion slips out from the sitting position he ended up in between the ropes, then grabs his opponent by the head. Johnson seems slightly dazed from the impact of the kick and Stephens is able to get him into a reverse facelock, then drops to one knee and drives the back of his opponent’s neck into the other. He then covers Johnson and hooks the leg… ONE! TWO!! …but Johnson kicks out despite the pain in his neck. Stephens takes hold of his opponent and brings him to his feet again, then draws back and- *CRUNCH!* -delivers a headbutt! Johnson staggers back clutching his neck instead of his forehead, but then grits his teeth and starts firing back; the Canadian delivers a kick to the ribs with his right leg; then with his left; then he nails his winded opponent with an elbow to the jaw before lashing out with a roundhouse kick that staggers the World Champion, before turning around and bouncing off the ropes, rebounding with an Emerald Lariat that knocks Stephens off his feet and sends Johnson spinning onto his stomach! However, the impact seems to jar his vertebrae again and instead of following up with a pin the challenger grabs at his neck. “See?” King asks jubilantly, “Toxxic just tried to go toe-to-toe with Johnson and got creamed.” “But I hope you’ll notice that Michael Stephens’ targeting of his opponent’s neck is already bearing fruit,” Mak adds, “Johnson can take the champion down, but if his own moves slow him up too much he won’t be able to take advantage.” Indeed, by the time Johnson has decided he’s ready to enter the fray again Stephens is starting to sit up; far from being back on the offensive, but no longer so easy to pin. Accordingly JJ waits for the right moment when Stephens is back to his feet, then moves in unhurriedly and takes the World Champion back over with an Ippon Seoi, dumping Stephens onto his backside. The Canadian swiftly raises his opponent to a sitting position before- *CRACK!* “OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” -unloading with a cowboy kick to the Englishman’s spine! Stephens cries out in pain and Johnson clearly decides that this is a good reason to continue… *CRACK!* “OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” *CRACK!* “OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …then, with the World Champion at a clear disadvantage, Johnson applies a headscissors and seats himself behind his opponent. Stephens grabs at his opponent’s legs and tries to prise them apart, but with little to no success. “JJ Johnson showing his own tactical awareness here,” Mak Francis points out, “Stephens’ offence has had an effect on the challenger’s neck, but with this hold applied he can hopefully weaken his opponent with minimal effort and give himself a chance to recuperate.” “Plus he’ll prevent Stephens from replacing the oxygen he’s just had kicked out of him,” Suicide King adds, “it’s good, solid wrestling from Johnson. As if you’d expect anything else.” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” The chants are starting to ring around the arena, but at the moment it doesn’t look like Michael Stephens is in much of a position to answer them. Johnson leans back and puts as much effort as he can into making his opponent’s forehead turn purple, while referee Matthew Kivell leans down to check on the World Champion. Stephens waves him away and grabs at Johnson’s knees, but he has no more luck prying them apart now than he did a few seconds before; however, it seems that the Englishman has another plan as he starts rocking to one side, trying to turn over onto his front. Johnson braces his arms to either side of him to try and prevent Stephens from succeeding in this endeavour, but the Englishman brings his own legs up into the air to add momentum and finally manages to roll over, bringing Johnson with him over onto their collective stomachs. From this position it’s easier for Stephens to try and work himself free, and after some effort he manages to remove himself from the headscissors that Johnson is still holding on to. “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” Johnson tenses, ready for an attack now he’s lost his controlling hold; however, rather than leap forward into an all-out assault Stephens instead grabs his opponent’s legs and tries to thread them together. Johnson is caught slightly off-guard by this approach, and as a result Stephens gets his opponent’s right leg trapped in the crook of his left knee before the challenger realises quite what’s going on. Mike anchors that with his own legs, then reaches forwards and tries to secure a ¾ nelson facelock! “He’s going for the Regal Stretch,” Mak Francis says, “and I can tell you from experience that this is a severely painful move!” However, JJ Johnson knows better than to allow his opponent to lock him into any sort of full-body submission, and he’s aware of the weight shifting on his back; as a result, when Stephens leans forward he starts firing elbows backwards and catches Stephens in the temple, then in the jaw. Stephens clutches his head and falls sideways, losing the leglace as he does so. This gives Johnson a chance to pivot around on the mat, and he uses it to kick Stephens in the head! *CRACK!* Stephens collapses backwards and Johnson seizes his opportunity to regain the offensive, quickly piling on top of Stephens and beginning to rain elbows down on the unfortunate World Champion. Matty Kivell is about to start counting on instinct, but the elbows are legal strikes and he lets it go. Johnson persists with his attack, and despite Stephens being able to block a few with his raised arms several slip through to strike him in the head. Johnson looks like he’s considering just keeping going with this but it’s a fairly exhausting method of attack and if there’s one thing the Canadian knows it’s a multitude of different ways to kick your ass. As a result he grabs the woozy World Champion and hauls Stephens up to his feet, then slips behind the Englishman and tucks his head under Stephens’ arm before grabbing his opponent around the waist. From there he hoists Stephens up off the ground, then literally throws his opponent up into the air. Stephens hangs there for a moment at the apex of his climb and Johnson just has time to flip him off, then catch the suddenly descending Englishman and drive him into the mat with the second part of the Jumbo Backdrop! *WHAM!* Johnson drops to cover for two and Kivell dives down to make the count… ONE! TWO!! …but Stephens kicks out! However, Johnson allows the World Champion to roll over onto his front only to grab the Englishman’s right arm and apply a Kimura; Stephens quickly starts thrashing and manages to scramble his body across the mat to the ropes, where he rests his right boot the bottom cable. Kivell starts counting- ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THR-’ -and Johnson breaks, but doesn’t give his opponent the luxury of resting in the ropes as he quickly pulls Stephens up and kicks him in the gut, then applies a Tiger neck chancre before snapping backwards with another half-hatch suplex. Kivell chastises Johnson for not respecting the fact that his opponent was in the ropes; Johnson flips him off and pulls Stephens up once more, then applies a double underhook! “It looks like JJ Johnson’s going for the Tiger Driver!” Mak calls… …but Michael Stephens has his own ideas on that front; he’s had far too much experience of people trying to place him in double underhooks lately, and he forces his body upright, back bodydropping Johnson over his head and down to the mat! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Stephens rests on the ropes and shakes his head, then his right arm, trying to dispel some of the aches that Johnson’s recent attacks have left behind. However, he has no time to rest on his laurels and he finds this out when he turns around- *CRACK!* -straight into a rolling elbow from JJ Johnson! “JOHN-SON SUCKS!” “JOHN-SON SUCKS!” Johnson glowers at the crowd who are refusing to acknowledge his toughness despite the fact that he just got up from being dumped unexpectedly on his back, then elbowed the guy who did it in the jaw so hard that dentists around North America are rubbing their hands expectantly. However, he has more important things on his mind. Namely, winning this damn match. Accordingly, he makes a cover of his dazed opponent… ONE! TWO!! …and Stephens kicks out again! Johnson once more allows the champion to roll onto his stomach, then stands firmly on the back of the Englishman’s legs and locks them into place before leaning forward and grabbing Stephens’ arms. The World Champion is stuck with nowhere to go as JJ Johnson leans back to bring them both upright, then onto his back so Michael Stephens is suspended above him in a Mexican surfboard! “Brilliant,” King smirks, “if he can’t pin him, Johnson will make him submit; he’s evidently been watching and learning from Tom about always using your opponent’s ring position to your own advantage.” Michael Stephens is clearly in a lot of pain, but that doesn’t mean that JJ Johnson can sit back and relax. The Canadian has to keep his arms and legs rigid to keep Stephens in place, and that’s without the added difficult of having his shoulders so near the mat. In fact, as he holds Stephens up both shoulders do touch down and Matthew Kivell leaps into action… ONE! TW- -but Johnson jerks his shoulders away from contact with the canvas; however, in doing so he seems to overbalance and the trapped Stephens topples to one side, landing hard on the canvas. This doesn’t seem to faze Johnson; he simply rolls with the motion and positions himself on top of his opponent once more, then rolls backwards again to hoist Michael Stephens into the air for a second time! “Johnson needs to be careful here,” Mak says, “he could lose the match without realising!” “Pish,” King snorts, “the chances of him being counted down are miniscule, and the risk involved is far outweighed by the potential gain of sticking Toxxic in this submission hold. Johnson’s a pro, he won’t be caught out.” Matty Kivell checks the World Champion, who grimly shakes his head and insists he will continue. Kivell checks on Johnson’s shoulders, asks Stephens again, the Englishman still says no… and Johnson’s shoulders are on the mat again! ONE! TWO!! …and JJ releases the grip with his arms, getting his shoulders off the mat and causing Stephens to flop forward onto his face, not really being able to get his arms up in time to break his fall! Johnson then releases his opponent’s legs, but before Stephens can make his aching body take any evasive action Johnson is up and straddling his back where he pulls the World Champion up as if for a camel clutch, then tucks the champion’s head down and rolls forward in a Gedo clutch pin! ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Stephens kicks out! “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “JJ Johnson lost to Landon Maddix for the World Title via a Gedo clutch pin,” Mak Francis points out, “and he nearly won the World Title with it there. Michael Stephens is a wily competitor, but it’s still worth trying a surprise rollup every now and then.” However, where that approach fails JJ Johnson is more than happy to fall back to his main plan; kicking ass, plain and simple. Accordingly he grabs Stephens as the World Champion makes a bid to find his feet again, but is caught off-guard as two black-nailed hands suddenly snake up to grab his head, and then the Englishman sits out with a jawbreaker! Johnson whips back like a wounded animal and instinctively turns his back to his opponent, clutching his jaw; this gives Stephens a chance to scramble back to his feet and, back-to-back with his opponent, reach up as if for a neckbreaker before twisting around to sit out with the Pressure Drop, driving Johnson’s face into the mat with one of his facebuster variations! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “This is the first time that Stephens has really had a chance to regain control of the match since he tried to go toe-to-toe with Johnson in an exchange of strikes,” Mak Francis says, “can he do it, or will Johnson’s aggression prove too much for the World Champion?” Johnson is getting up rather quicker than Michael Stephens might have hoped, but with his opponent still on one knee the champion sees his chance and lunges to grab a double underhook… however, any ideas of the RTF II are dashed as Johnson forces his arms downwards, breaking his opponent’s grip and then grabbing Stephens behind the knees. A quick push with his shoulders later and Stephens topples backwards to the mat, allowing Johnson to stand with his opponent’s legs tucked firmly under his arms. From there it’s an easy matter for the grinning Canadian to fall backwards, getting his legs under Stephens’ body and launching him at the turnbuckles with a slingshot manoeuvre. It’s never a good idea to underestimate the agility of Michael Stephens though, and the World Champion manages to make an emergency landing on the second buckle! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Johnson is no fool, and that noise indicates to him that something’s wrong; he scrambles back to his feet and turns around to look, but at he does so Stephens steps up to the top buckle and then leaps backwards, flipping and twisting in the air so that he ends up planting his feet square in Johnson’s chest with the Corkscrew Dropkick! The Canadian is blasted backwards but Stephens lands hard and doesn’t seem able to rise, coughing weakly. “OK, Toxxic improvised well on the fly there,” Suicide King admits grudgingly, “but there’s no way he can hang with Johnson. The longer this match goes the more the balance swings into JJ’s favour; look, he’s getting up first!” Indeed, JJ Johnson is up with a nasty expression on his face and advancing on his opponent and former stablemate. However, given that he is a former stablemate of Michael Stephens he should possibly remember that the World Champion can still be dangerous even while on his back. He won’t take you down and make you tap like Tom Flesher would, but he has an approach that is similarly startling and if anything a little more direct. *whump-CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He’ll kip up and immediately leap into an enzuigiri; an enzuigiri that on this occasion, targets the back of the neck. “He was playing possum,” Mak Francis marvels, “Michael Stephens actually managed to sucker Johnson in! That’s not easy to do.” “Goddamn cheating Limey bastard,” Suicide King seethes quietly as Johnson grabs the back of his neck on the mat, what can be seen of his face showing an expression of considerable pain. Stephens scrambles over and rolls the Canadian onto his back, prompting Kivell to make the count… ONE! TWO!! …but Johnson kicks out! Stephens grabs him and hauls the challenger up, then goes for an Irish whip into the ropes; however, Johnson ducks under the arm to pull himself up much like a jiver from the 50s, except that it’s not a particularly common dance move to use your grip to pull your partner into an elbow to the jaw! *CRACK!* Stephens staggers and Johnson follows up with a palm strike! *SMACK!* Then another! *SMACK!* Finally he delivers a spinning back kick to the chest that clearly winds Stephens before hitting the ropes and rebounding to deliver a blistering elbow to the jaw that knocks the World Champion clean off his feet! *CRACK!* Johnson wastes no time in dropping to cover, and Kivell wastes no time in starting to count… ONE! TWO!! …but Stephens kicks out, not yet ready to relinquish his World Title! Johnson simply gets up, absently rubbing the back of his neck as he does so, then back off and crouches in the corner of the ring to wait. It takes several seconds, but Michael Stephens starts to get up. He’s facing the wrong way, and as he struggles upright the lack of an opponent seems to dawn on him. He turns around… and Johnson barrels across the ring, delivering another running elbow smash to the head! *CRACK!* Once more Johnson drops to make the cover, taking care to hook the leg, and once more Kivell makes his count… ONE! TWO!! …and once more, Michael Stephens gets his shoulder off the mat before three! JJ Johnson seems a little less than happy about this development and stands up again, then rips his right elbow pad off and lets out a roar! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The crowd make their displeasure clear, but the challenger pays them no mind; he simply drops into a crouch again and waits for his prey to rise. Michael Stephens is a little slower up this time, but get up he does and turn groggily to look for his opponent. Johnson rushes forward… …pirouettes gracefully for a moment, as if about to take up a career in ice dancing… …and then sticks out his right arm to offset his nimble footwork with a brutal running rolling elbow smash! *KER-RRACK!* Stephens goes down and Johnson drops, anticipation writ large on his face… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” JJ Johnson looks at Matthew Kivell with considerable astonishment - not quite disbelief, but the Canadian challenger is clearly very surprised. He thought he’d got his former leader, and won the World Title. However, Johnson isn’t the type to let a surprise to derail him, and he grabs Stephens before starting to haul the champion up for some more punishment. “Johnson’s basically trying to lift a dead weight there,” Mak Francis notes, “Stephens is pretty much out, although not quite beaten yet.” “Not for much longer,” Suicide King predicts, “this match is clearly proving that Johnson is the better man.” It takes Johnson a couple of seconds to bring Stephens upright, but then he clasps the Englishman firmly around the waist before hoisting him off the canvas, spinning and dumping him back down with a belly-to-belly suplex. With his opponent repositioned back on the mat, and with the wind knocked out of him to boot, Johnson turns and starts to make his way towards the corner of the ring. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The Canadian steps through the ropes and begins to climb towards the top buckle as the fans chant and Michael Stephens stirs weakly on the canvas. Once there he pauses for a second to get his balance… …and pauses for perhaps a second longer. JJ Johnson’s neck is not the strongest part of his body now. The Stinger did genuine damage, and any jarring or shock to it runs the risk, no matter how small, of re-injury. Johnson has to be sure that the potential damage to his opponent is weighed against the damage to himself. He decides. He straightens up on the top buckle. He leaps off into the air, plummeting down towards Michael Stephens with a Swandive headbutt… *BANG!* …that doesn’t connect. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “He took too long,” Mak exclaims, “and Michael Stephens had the chance to move out of the way! Whether through luck or judgement, the World Champion has caught a break and now has a chance to get back into this match.” However, Stephens is still pretty beaten down, and with Johnson not getting immediately back to his feet either referee Matthew Kivell has no option except to apply the dreaded double ten-count.

Cross vs. Zyon is about to go on, but the cameras all exploded! WATCH AFTERSHOXX TO SEE WHAT HAPPENED!

Flesher vs. Grendel to be edited in.

We cut backstage where Bruce Blank is in his locker room, slumped back against the wall still exhausted from the hard hitting war he had with Charlie Matthews not that long ago. He’s not even changed his clothes yet as he just sits there, sweaty and exhausted but still in a great mood since the International title is still in his possession. “I told you” he says to no one in particular just venting his insecurities at all those that continually predict his downfall. *Knock*Knock* The knock on the door is followed by Joseph Peters entering the room without waiting for Bruce to reply “Can I have a little privacy! I could have been naked or something here!” Bruce complains as the head of the SWF barges in. “Trust me when I say that no one wants to see that” Peters says with a deadpan expression before sitting down across the table from Bruce. “You come to congratulate me on keeping the title Joey?” Bruce says with a grin, feeling pretty confident right now. And why shouldn’t he? He’s on top of the world after all. “Yeah congratulations. . . now we have a problem” Peters says “Who has a problem?” “We do Bruce, you and me” Peters elaborates. “I got the title, I got what I want – I don’t see the problem at all” the champ replies while putting his hands behind his neck, leaning back to get comfortable. “I got an image problem and therefore YOU’VE got an image problem” Peters says and then quickly follows up on that statement before Bruce can ask any other questions “You’re the International champion now! You’ve got standards to uphold, you represent the SWF!” “So? I did the same thing as the Ultraviolent champion yet you ain’t never said boo” “Well no, but the Hardcore title has a certain. . . image that you pulled off well. The International title thought is a whole different beast, it’s a new level for you Bruce and I need to know that you’ll appear in a manner becoming of the title” “A manner bec. . . “ Bruce starts off looking totally confused. “You’re the number 2 man in the federation, you’ll be asked to do publicity appearances and everything.” “So?” “So you look like a cow crapped you out!” Peters says with frustration clearly visible on his face. “Now wait a minute!” Bruce says slamming his hands down on the table “A cow has only ever crapped on me once alright?” “It was a figure of speech Bruce. But this can’t go on, we have to do something about your image” Peters says with a solemn voice. “What happened to all that “Just go out there and be yourself” talk that I was served up when I joined? I’ve been alright until now, ain’t had no complaints!” “Well now you’re the International champion” Peters says and then takes a deep breath “Look it’s quite simple, you HAVE to give off a certain appearance now that you’ve gone mainstream with the title, all champions of that level are forced to make concessions if they don’t fit the image” “Forced?” “Contractually I’m afraid Bruce” Peters says and pulls out the contract Bruce signed for the International Title tournament “It’s in here, I could fire you if you don’t go along with the “creative decisions” of the company” he says and points to the particular paragraph. “You’re bluffing” Bruce says with a bit of uncertainty in his voice “I mean Aecas didn’t exactly fit the image now did he” “No he did not. . . and he did not listen either” Peters reluctantly admits. “So why should I?” Bruce replies with a self-satisfied grin. “Where is Aecas now?” Peters asks . . . “Are you saying that he was fired for not doing this?” Bruce asks “I’m not saying anything, I’m asking you where he is” Peters says with a stone face, not giving off a hint of deception. “It’s a bluff” Bruce says “Then call it, worst that can happen is that you lose that title and your paycheck.” Peters replies and gets up to leave. “Alright, alright it can’t hurt to listen to your suggestions” Bruce concedes, he wants to keep the International title and his job after all. “I’ve hired an image consultant to help you out” Peters says and makes a motion for someone outside the locker room to come in. “Image consultant? What the hell” Bruce says as he stands up and stares down at a skinny, pale man wearing an immaculate dark brown three piece suit with a bright red handkerchief tied around his neck and his hair looking neatly groomed. “Bruce this is St. John Smith” Peters says pointing to the image consultant. “Sinjin? Is he some sort of Indian or something?” “He’s from England Bruce” “’Scuse me” St. John interjects with a slightly “bitchy” attitude “I don’t believe it’s nice to talk about someone like they’re not here” “You can’t be serious Peters!” Bruce says as the skinny man eyes Bruce making various disgusted faces, especially when he gets a whiff of Bruce’s pit stains “Oh dear mother of pearl!!” St. John says while trying not to gag “We’ve got a lot of work to do” “I’m serious Bruce, just give it a chance” Peters says before he leaves the room, leaving Bruce alone with the probably homosexual image consultant who’s busy spraying Bruce down with a bit of emergency eau de toilette that he always keeps on him. “Don’t you worry poppet we’ll soon have you looking the business. Now how are you for colors? I can see you in some strong earth tones maybe?” “What?” “No you’re right, it’s just not right for wrestling is it? Never mind we’ll work on it” St. John carries on like Bruce didn’t say anything, just speaking out loud about what he has in mind “Manicure definitely, oh and that hair – GOT to go” he says as he eyes Bruce’s mullet. “Now wait a minute” “Don’t worry big boy, we’ll take it nice and slow. Oh and someone needs to waaaaaaaaaaaa-ax” St. John adds in a sing-song voice as he sees Bruce’s hairy knuckles. “Just shoot me now” is the last thing we hear from Bruce as we fade out.

“The following contest is set for one fa-“ “Oh no, no, no you don’t” James Matheson says, cutting off Funyon’s introductions the second the manager enters the arena to a deafening round of boos “No man on god’s green earth is worthy of introducing my man here! No one but me: the Manager of Champions James Matheson” The manager actually stops for a moment as if he was expecting people to give him an applause or something. “As this Cro-Magnon was about to tell you all this match will be for the SWF International champion with the SOLE purpose of crowning my man here the International champion” Matheson says while pointing to the Grappler as the big man steps through the curtains. Mannish Boy by Muddy Waters stars up as Charlie “Grappler” Matthews walks down the aisle, a focused look on his face and one of the World tag-team titles slung over his shoulder. “Introducing to you all, one of two reasons why the SWF is such a success – the Missouri Mauler! the Kansas City Krusher! A man who has not suffered a single loss since his return to this federation, I give you the guy who should already be the International champion CHARLIE “GRAPPLER” MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHEWS!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “What’s this about Grappler being the International champion” Mak asks as the big man walks up the ring steps, ready to enter the ring. “I’m sure you remember his match with Aecas right?” King says but before Mak can reply James Matheson has something else to say. “We are here tonight to right a wrong, to make sure justice is done, to ensure that this man gets the International title that he should have rightfully won a few weeks ago!” Matheson starts out as the boos rain down over him. “I mean he had Aecas beaten, he was done for! See for yourself” Matheson points to the SWFtron which begins to show the closing moments from the June 21st edition of Lockdown. Charlie Matthews quickly underhooks the arms of Aecas and falls backwards, planting him head-first onto the concrete with a double-arm DDT! *THUD!* “Did you hear that?!” King rhetorically asks, “Matthews just plastered Aecas into the concrete with that DDT! I love this guy!” Grappler craftily slides back into the ring upon Mulligan’s “SIX!” clearly deciding to take the low-road to victory tonight. “SEVEN!” “Well, I guess you were right, King,” Mak concedes, “because it looks like Matthews is going to let Aecas get counted out after that sick DDT!” But Aecas is up! The crowd roars as the International Champion gets to his knees, showing that it’ll take a hell of a lot more to take him down. He’s up to a standing base! “EIGHT!” But inside of the ring, Matthews drops down to his knees clutching his neck and calls Mulligan over, claiming a severe attack on the neurons in his central nervous system. While Skip again questions the validity of such dubious claims (and how smart is this guy, anyway), Matheson again backs up, and levels Aecas in the back of the head with the briefcase! *BAM!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOORT!” Aecas drops down again, Matthews assures Mulligan that he’ll make it, and the referee turns to count again. “NINE!” “C’mon, Aecas! Damn it!” Mak cries, “don’t let this match end now! Aecas was just getting warmed up before that rat had to interfere and make his presence felt. Grappler, I thought you were a better wrestler than that!” Aecas is up to his knees, and the crowd roars the valor and fighting spirit of the Black Angel- “TEN!” -but it’s too late. *DING DING DING* Boos and Borts rain down upon Matthews as “Mannish Boy” kicks in, with James Matheson sliding into the ring to celebrate with his client. Grappler even sports a smile, raising his hands into the air as if he actually won the title. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon begins, “the winner of the contest, as a result of a count-out, is CHAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAATTHEWS!” “The Grappler had the match won, he had the title in the palm of his hand when that coward Aecas intentionally got himself counted out” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “I know for a fact that Aecas didn’t do anything like that!” Mak interjects angrily, but of course James Matheson can’t hear his commentary. “Oh the signs were subtle, but they were there – would James Matheson lie to us after all?” the Suicide King says, toeing Matheson’s line “Now I’m here tonight because I want to insure that this new champion this. . . “ Matheson waves his hand in the air as if he’s trying to figure out who the champion is “Bruce Blink or Blank or whatever, I want to insure that he doesn’t take the cowards way out and gets counted out as well. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice. . . well you’re not going to fool me twice” James says with a crooked smile. While Matheson is talking Charlie is getting in the zone, stretching out in the corner, getting ready for his opponent. “So, Mr. Slappowitz, Izzy. . . pal” Matheson says as he approaches the referee “Can I rely on you giving my man a fair shake? Can I trust that you will not let Bruce get away with a cheap count out?” James Matheson holds out his hand for the referee to shake as he does his best to look both innocent and sincere. Izzy looks down at the hand for a moment, then he smiles and nods before shaking Matheson’s hand “Oh come on!” Mak moans as the manager obviously handed the referee something in that handshake. “Hey I think that’s only fair, he was respectful and just asked that Slappowitz not count Bruce out too quickly” King says feigning total ignorance over whatever it is that the referee just put in his pocket. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “Thank you Mr. Slappowitz, it’s good to know that there are still a few honest people in the world that want everyone to have a fair shake” Matheson says with a grin. BULLSHIT!! BULLSHIT!! BULLSHIT!! BULLSHIT!! The fans are about to riot when suddenly head referee Matthew Kivell appears in the ring looking straight at Izzy Slappowitz with an angry look on his face. Kivell says something to Izzy who just shakes his head in denial. Two more shakes of the head and Matthew resolves the issue the way all issues are resolved in wrestling He punches him in the face YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! Then he reaches into Izzy’s pocket and pulls out a wad of hundred dollar bills that James Matheson just gave to him. “Hey be fair now, that could be Slappowitz own money” King argues “He’s a referee, he’d be lucky to make half that in a month” “Fair enough” King concedes Matheson looks extremely pissed off as Matthew Kivell uses his position as head referee to dismiss Izzy, sending him to the back while Kivell takes over as the official of the match. When Matthew holds up the wad of cash Matheson tries to play innocent, shrugging his shoulders like he doesn’t know where it came from. “Alright then I may as well give it to the people at ringside” Matthew replies YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! *sigh* “Alright, alright it’s my money, Slappowitz was just. . . erm . . . keeping it safe during the match, I didn’t want it stolen. Yeah that’s it, I didn’t want it stolen and well if you cannot trust a referee who can you trust?” Matheson says while trying his best to look innocent. Kivell gives Matheson the wad of cash back and then tells him to get the hell out of the ring before he has him banned from ringside. That comment lights a fire under the manger’s ass as he quickly leaves the ring and then puts the wad of cash inside the steel briefcase he’s always carrying with him. “Matheson’s plan just backfired! This is awesome” Mak says with a grin, happy that justice is done. “This is terrible! I mean we need a new referee this guy is totally biased against Matheson and Grappler now” King fires back. “Oh give me a break” The Grappler seems a bit less upset than Matheson as he adjusts the tape on his wrists while awaiting his opponent. “AAAAAAAAAAAAND HIS OPPONENT!” Funyon says in his trademark booming voice “Hailing from the Dirty Tornado Trailer park in Mobile Alabama, weighing in at 295 pounds, here is the current and defending ESS DUBAYA EFF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION: “The Redneck Superman” BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! Funyon grins, he nailed that introduction and he managed to get it in before anyone else interrupted him, and just in the nick of time it would seem as Bruce cuts off Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Don’t ask me no questions” the second he steps into the arena. “EXCUSE ME!!” He says and then stops for a moment, almost as if to pose for a picture with his newly won and newly polished SWF International title around his waist. WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! “Winning the title seems to have only made Bruce even LESS popular” King points out. “Probably more the way he won it King” the Franchise replies “EXCUSE ME! The International Champion has something to say” Bruce continues taking great pleasure in saying International champion. “Now I’m from Alabama right here in good old US of A and my opponent is from Missouri which is also here in the US of A. . . So we have a problem. See this title isn’t called the United States title, or the Southern Title or the Missouri-Alabama title – it’s the In-ter-national title, and you’re just not international enough” “What the hell is he going on about?” King asks genuinely confused. “I think he’s trying to get out of actually defending the title” Mak says as he suspects that Bruce is up to no good. “But being the resourceful International champion that I am, I have a solution for you, Wayne if you will?” Bruce says with a smirk and then waves his brother out from the back. The much smaller Blank brother steps out in the spotlight with a giant sombrero on his head, a giant fake bushy black moustache on his face and a half drunken bottle of tequila in one hand. The Blank brothers head to the ring as everyone in the arena scratch their heads trying to figure out what the hell Bruce is up to tonight. Bruce enters the ring while Wayne remains on the apron, handing Bruce the giant sombrero. “Tonight Chuck you are the designated Internationalist of this match. From Mexico, my opponent tonight: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL GRAPPLERO!!” Bruce says with a smirk and then puts the sombrero on Charlie Matthews’ head. “Ha!” The Suicide King guffaws at the sight of Charlie Matthews with a giant sombrero on his head. If the Grappler is pissed off he doesn’t show it, giving Bruce the stone face treatment tonight as he looks at the International champion. Then he slowly raises one of his hands and takes the sombrero off his head, Charlie looks at the hat, then he looks at Bruce and then casually and without a hint of emotion tears the hat apart before throwing it away. “El Grapplero wants to be a gringo tonight” King quips. “Oh don’t tell me we’re going to have to listen to you make Mexican jokes all night?” Mak groans. The confident and arrogant smile hasn’t left Bruce’s face, after all he’s the International champion he’s got a lot to be confident and arrogant about. But his eyes tell a different story, his eyes are focused on his opponent’s every move, he doesn’t even take his eyes off Charlie as he unstraps the belt and then hands it to the referee. After the traditional raising of the belt to signal that it’s on the line tonight Matthew Kivell calls for the opening bell. *DING!*DING!*DING!* Bruce and Charlie go head to head as they both start talking trash to each other, jawing as they stand there face to face, nose to nose like a couple of bulls ready to hit each other. The tension between the two is palatable as everyone in the arena are waiting for the two big men to hit each other. “You can tell the crowd has been waiting for this one for a while, they’re on the edge of their seats here waiting for a hard hitting fight – not a wrestling match but a fight!” Mak says possibly transferring some of his own anticipation onto the crowd as he’s eager to see the two big men go at it. “Oh it’ll be a fight alright Matthews wants the belt and Blank wants revenge for the Dead Precedents loss at 13th hour, this will be hard hitting and it won’t be pretty” King says as they both watch the two men getting themselves more and more worked up for the match, just waiting for the other to make the first move. Grappler starts off by putting a hand on Bruce’s face and then pushing the big man backwards, his way of saying “Get out of my face hayseed”. The shove is quickly repaid with a forearm shot to the chest. The Grappler’s massive, furry chest takes the impact without the big man even stepping a full step backwards before he retaliates with a forearm of his own that knocks Bruce back a step, Bruce uses his momentum to fall back into the ropes like a kid pulling back on his slingshot and then he sprints forward (well “sprints” for him) and then tries to bowl over the Grappler with a running shoulder tackle *THUD!!* “OH MAN it’s like a Mac and a Semi hitting each other on the Interstate” Mak exclaims as the two men collide but with no noticeable effect on either man as Grappler braces himself and takes the impact full on. Bruce points to the ropes, inviting the Grappler to give it his best shot. The Grappler appears to be taking the invitation as he runs towards the ropes while Bruce takes a step forward instead of waiting for Matthews to come at him and then raises his foot looking to drive his cowboy boot into the side of the Grappler’s face as he bounces off the ropes. DENIED!! Grappler ducks under the big boot, bounces off the ropes on the other side and then takes Bruce down with a flying shoulder tackle / clothesline combo that knocks the big man from Alabama off his feet. Grappler follows up with two massive elbows to Bruce’s chest hoping to keep the big man down and under control. When that’s not enough to stop Bruce from trying to get back up Grappler grabs Bruce by the hair and. . . *BONK!!* “RIGHT ACROSS THE NOSE!! Man that sounded sick!” King says as the Grappler strikes Bruce square on the nose with enough force to bloody it. Grappler follows the headbutt with a kick to the side of the head before he pulls the staggered Bruce Blank back to his feet and whips him into the corner with FORCE! Bruce strikes the corner back first with enough impact to shake the entire ring, the ring is shaken once more as Charlie Matthews runs at Bruce and drives his massive shoulder into Bruce’s ample mid section. Grappler puts his big paws around the middle rope to trap Bruce in the corner and then he proceeds to drill Bruce’s mid section with his shoulder over and over If the Grappler had been well liked the fans might have even counted along. But he’s not so they don’t, but that doesn’t stop him as he delivers a good 6 or 7 heavy blows to Bruce’s midsection and chest as James Matheson yells encouragements such as “Hit the bastard again” and “He ain’t nothing Grappler”. After he’s satisfied that Bruce is much worse for wear he stops the onslaught and instead drags Bruce into the middle of the ring where he quickly applies the dreaded, the devious, the boring Bear Hug *CLAP!* The Grappler hardly gets a chance to lock his hands together before Bruce brings his hands together behind Grappler’s head slamming his arms against Matthews ears forcing the big man to let go of the old. “I feel like I should be sitting next to Bobby Heenan or something” Mak jokes after getting an old school vibe from the match. “Yeah you should, right now he’s in California if you hop on a train now you can be there soon” Sensing an opportunity Bruce rushes in and grabs the Grappler by the trunks and the throat, lifting him up chest high as he goes for a gorilla press slam on the 306 pounder. Bruce manages to lift Charlie Matthews up over his head, resting the weight on the top of his skull before attempting to lift the Grappler all the way up. The strain to lift the big man is obvious from the expression on Bruce’s face, the bulging of his arms and the shaking of his entire body, all it would take to make Bruce mess up is a small distraction, anything really – like James Matheson reaching in and tapping Bruce on the leg when the referee isn’t watching. “Oh bullshit!” Bruce drops Matthews back to the canvas where the Grappler lands on his feet but if the man from Missouri thinks he’s gotten the advantage Bruce quickly proves him wrong by planning his size 16 cowboy boot right upside Charlie’s head *BAM!!* “He may not have been able to lift him up, but he could definitely put him down!” King says as Matthews hits the canvas like a sack of bricks. “He was close King, I think Matthews was struggling against it a bit too much” Mak replies. “So you’re saying “too early in the match” then Mak?” “Yeah basically” Mak admits. Making sure to not give his opponent even a momentary break Bruce drops a knee to Charlie Matthews’ shoulder and then drives the boot of his heel in for added effect. Bruce drags his opponent back to his feet, then quickly rakes the Grappler’s face the moment it looks like he’s about to make a comeback WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! After running his fingernails down Charlie Matthews face Bruce hits the far side ring ropes and then leaps into the air for a massive flying clothesline that tears into the Grappler and knocks him down hard with Bruce landing on top of him. ONE!! TWOO!!! TH-NO!! Charlie Matthews kicks out with enough power to show everyone that he’s far from out of this match even though Bruce is dictating the pace right now. Not deterred by the lack of a three count Bruce quickly pulls the Grappler back to his feet and then lifts him up on his shoulder in preparation for a shoulder breaker. With most of the SWF superstars Bruce would have no problems executing the move, but the Grappler is 306 pounds of pure muscle and he’s fighting the move, which causes Bruce to drop backwards with the Grappler slamming down on top of him. “That’s it Grappler!! Use your brains in there!! Keep it up, keep it up” James Matheson yells like a football coach yelling plays to his team. “God he’s so annoying I just want to kick his ass” Mak says “You can’t argue with success Mak, Flesher and Matthews have cut a path through the SWF after they’ve returned” King counters. The Grappler seems to be taking Matheson’s advice (and why shouldn’t he?) as he impatiently waits by the ropes for Bruce to get all the way back up after having the Shoulder breaker countered. The moment Bruce gets up Charlie Matthews runs at him, right hand clenched ready to Lariat the hell out of Bruce DENIED!! Instead of landing a giant lariat the Grappler finds himself thrown up in the air as Bruce ducks down and back drops his onrushing opponent to regain the momentum in the match. Not eager to repeat the Grappler’s mistake and wait for him to get back to his feet Bruce grabs Matthews with the right arm and pulls him back up, then he twists the arm around in a wristlock before dragging the helpless Matthews forward against his will. *POW!!* “What impact!” King yells out as Bruce knocks the Grappler down with a short arm clothesline. “These two are the picture definition of high impact offence” Mak says as Bruce pulls the Grappler back to his feet. “Well thank you JR, next you’ll call it a slobberknocker and then I’ll be forced to hurt you” the Suicide King says as they watch Bruce circle around the groggy Grappler. After sneaking up on the Grappler from behind Bruce tries to hook both his arms under Matthews so that he can apply a Full Nelson on the challenger. The second Charlie Matthews feels Bruce’s arms reaching up from behind his hands shoot to the back of his neck, intercepting Bruce’s hands trying to prevent the International champion from getting the move fully locked in. “So close” Mak says “And it doesn’t look like Bruce is ready to give up on the Full Nelson either” “Considering Matthews’ well documented neck problems this is the perfect hold to apply – IF he can apply it” King adds. Bruce’s left hand slips out of the Grappler’s and clamps onto the back of Matthews’ neck but his right hand is still being held off by Matthews as he struggles against the Full Nelson. In an attempt to shake Bruce off the Grappler lunges forward but Bruce manages to hold on to the Half Nelson causing both wrestlers to flip through the ropes to the floor. ONE!! With Bruce on top of him Matthews has a really hard time fighting off the Full Nelson but he’s never been one to give up and keeps trying to spin out of the hold while keeping Bruce’s right hand from reaching the other. TWO!! Bruce manages to lock his hands together, but only for a split second as the Grappler’s right arm shoots backwards and strikes Bruce in the head causing him to release the grip. THREE!! The second the Grappler is back on his feet Bruce tries to lock the Full Nelson on once more with the Grappler frantically trying to escape it FOUR!! In his eagerness to apply the Full Nelson Bruce trips and sends both men forward into the ringpost *SMACK!* FIVE!! “Oh man they both hit that ringpost!” Mak says with a wince. “This is bad Mak, this is really bad” King quickly adds SIX!! Bruce slumps over against the apron of the ring holding his head after having his brains scrambled. Charlie Matthews holds on to the ring post to keep himself from falling to the ground after making contact with the steel. SEVEN!! “I don’t want to jinx this but we may see a double count out” “Ah great, thanks Mak now you’ve gone and done it” King replies angrily since neither he nor anyone else wants to see this match end in a double count out. EIGHT!! At eight Wayne comes to his brother’s aid and helps the International champion roll under the bottom rope into the ring. BULLSHIT!! BULLSHIT!! BULLSHIT!! BULLSHIT!! NINE!! “No one wants to see this King!!” And no one will either, as James Matheson follows Wayne’s example and helps Charlie Matthews get up on the apron and half way under the bottom rope to break the count before he is counted out. “That was a little too close for comfort Mak” the Suicide King says while breathing a sigh of relief. “Bruce would have retained on a double count out, but honestly NO ONE wants to see that” “Well Bruce might not have minded, I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded winning by count out either – as long as he keeps the title” Says King “You know I can believe that King. When he held the Hardcore title he couldn’t get counted out or get intentionally disqualified to keep the title but now he can” Mak deducts “And that’s what’s most important to Bruce, to keep the title” Both the Grappler and Blank have taken a couple of moments to regain their senses and regain their breath after taking a hard knock on the head, but now they’re both back on their feet, circling each other like a couple of tigers ready to pounce. Bruce raises his right hand in the air, wiggling his fingers as he invites Charlie Matthews to accept his challenge to a test of strength. Matthews looks at Bruce for a moment, hands on his hips looking like he’s thinking about accepting it, he looks at his manager who’s nodding in approval and pounding the mat to get the Grappler to show Bruce who’s the stronger man. Then he looks at Bruce, he looks at the arrogant smirk as Bruce holds a massive arm up in the air “Go on, you know you want to” King says as if he’s trying to convince Charlie to take the challenge. “I’m not so sure King, Bruce may be about the only guy in the federation stronger than him. . . well not counting Nemesis of course” “And pretty soon I think we’ll ALL have to count Nemesis” King adds thinking of just how huge that colossus is. Charlie Matthews seems to have finally made up his mind as he raises his left hand, fingers spread, slowly approaching Bruce’s hand, slowly interlocking fingers with his opponent. Then Matthews raises the other hand, causing Bruce to follow suit. The moment both hands are locked together the two combatants flex their muscles and try to power the other one down. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRHHHAAAA!!” It’s not clear which of the two let out the guttural roar as the two clash chest to chest arms out to the sides as they strain against each other. They back up and then once more clash in the middle of the ring hairy chest to t-shirt as they pour every ounce of strength they have into this test of strength. Their knuckles go white, their skin red as they both struggle against the power of their opponent. Slowly, ever so slowly they raise their arms up in the air, still locked together it becomes apparent that Bruce is about to gain the advantage as he gets the Grappler’s hands bent backwards “No, no, no, no!!” Matheson yells as he pounds on the canvas “He’s cheating referee!!” Except for once Bruce isn’t cheating, it’s a rarity but it does happen and right now he’s playing it by the book as he forces the Grappler’s hands down, locking the wrists, putting the pressure on his opponent’s hands. “Bruce has the slightest of power advantages, but once you get the upper hand it’s easier to control” Mak says regaling everyone with his expertise on the good old test of strength. “And it’s hard to come back from” King barely manages to get out before *THUD!!* Charlie Matthews head butts Bruce in the chest and then drives a knee into Bruce’s ample mid section to give himself the advantage over his opponent. Now Matthews is in charge, now HE has Bruce’s hands locked back, forcing his opponent down, making him kneel down on one knee before him. “YES!! That’s it champ! I knew you were the stronger man, you’re an ox! You’re a total ox!!” Matheson yells out after his mood turned from frustrated to elated quicker than you can spell it out. The Grappler uses all his power and the leverage advantage he got by kneeing Bruce in the midsection to force Bruce’s hands down on the ground, releasing them a split second before he stomps on both hands with his right foot. Grappler grins and raises both hands in the air like he won something while Bruce is on the canvas in agony. The big man turns around just in time to see Bruce roll under the bottom rope, to the floor where his younger brother quickly rushes over to see if he can help Bruce. ONE!! “Ah I see the problem, Bruce’s blood alcohol levels are just too low tonight” King jokes as Bruce grabs the bottle of tequila from Wayne’s hand and then has a drink from it. TWO!! “I seriously think that the SWF needs a wellness program” Mak says without a hint of jocularity in his voice. THREE!! “Are you serious? We’d all be jobbing to our kidneys by now” FOUR!! After handing the bottle back to Wayne Bruce begins to pace back and forth on the floor trying to work out a plan, trying to find a way to get back in control of the match FIVE!! James Matheson looks at Matthew Kivell with a worried expression on his face, each time Matthew raises another finger in the air he gets more and more desperate. SIX!! When the count hits six and Bruce still doesn’t look like he’s ready to go back inside the ring James Matheson takes matters into his own hands as he walks up to Bruce from behind and smacks the big man on the shoulder. Now Matheson isn’t really a strong guy so the smack doesn’t do much damage to Bruce it just gets his attention instead as the big man turns around and looks at him. SEVEN!! “He just flipped off Bruce? Does he have a desire to see his teeth on the ground or something?” the Suicide King wonders as Bruce begins to chase after James Matheson who’s running for his life. EIGHT!! “He’s lost it, he’s finally lost it King” NINE!! Matheson slides under the bottom rope and then crawls through the ring hoping to get out of Bruce’s way, the big man quickly follows the manager into the ring, breaking the count at nine. Bruce breaks the count and then RUNS RIGHT INTO A CLUBBERING LARIAT!!! *POW!!* “Man alive! He just blindsided Bruce” King yells out as the Grappler’s lariat almost takes Bruce’s head off in the process. “He fell for Matheson’s ploy, literally” The Grappler is quick to cover the International champion hoping to take advantage of the surprise move on Bruce ONE!! TWOO!!! THR-NO!! Wayne reaches into the ring and pulls Bruce’s foot up on the bottom rope only moments before Matthew Kivell can count to three thus saving his big brother’s bacon. While James Matheson is besides himself and about to have a heart attack over Wayne’s actions the Grappler seems to be taking it more in his stride, not letting the frustration get the better of him inside the squared circle. Matthews picks Bruce up and then plants the champion with a body slam. *BAM!* “That’s almost 300 pounds and he threw it around like it wasn’t that big a deal!” Mak marvels. Charlie Matthews just stands there and looks at Bruce for a moment before he figures out what to do. He flips Bruce over onto his stomach, then he lifts Bruce up by the arms and locks the Camel Clutch in. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!! But the fans boredom is quickly alleviated as Wayne once again saves his brother by pulling his leg up on the bottom rope. Matthew Kivell informs Charlie Matthews that he’ll have to break the hold but the Grappler pretends to not be able to hear what he’s saying over the roar of the crowd. That’s not really roaring right now wink.gif ONE!! The Grappler just keeps the hold locked in, pulling back on Bruce’s chin as much as he can. TWO!! Wayne is jumping up and down on the floor pointing feverishly to Bruce’s foot even though Matthew Kivell has already seen it. THREE!! James Matheson on the other hand seems to be more appreciative of the Grappler’s tactics and nods in agreement as the big man keeps the hold on. FOUR!! At four the Grappler casually drops the hold and lets Bruce flop to the floor as he walks away from his opponent, he can’t win the title on a disqualification and he’s well aware of it. After walking around the ring for a moment or two to underline his total innocence Matthews goes back on the offensive once more. “The Grappler likes to keep a slow deliberate pace, not a wasted move, not a wasted gesture” says the Suicide King. “Not a wasted hair pull” Mak adds as Matthews pulls Bruce up to his knees by grabbing two handfuls of hair. The second Bruce gets to his knees he fires off an elbow to The Grappler’s midsection and then a second one as he tries to fight his opponent off so that he can get a moment to recover. But a moment is all he gets as Charlie Matthews counters with a forearm smash to Bruce’s back before taking half a step back to add a little more momentum and impact to the knee that Matthews drives into the side of Bruce’s head. “Get that weasel off the apron!” Mak yells out as Wayne Blank jumps up on the edge of the ring and begins to complain loudly about some perceived injustice. Grappler turns around and grabs Wayne by the shirt, right hand pulled back so that he can smack the annoying little rat. When the Grappler turned around he took his eyes off Bruce, something which the champion takes advantage off by rushing his opponent ready to hit him from behind. GRAPPLER MOVES!! Instead of hitting Charlie Matthews Bruce strikes his brother with full force, clotheslining the younger Blank brother off the apron much to the delight of the crowd. Before the shock of what he’s done can subside Bruce finds himself rolled up from behind as Charlie Matthews gets Bruce in a pinning predicament after a good old fashioned School Boy. ONE!! TWOO!!! THR-NO!! “He had the International title in his grasps!! Matheson was literally on his way over here to get the belt!” Mak says as Bruce kicks out at the last second. “You talk like it’s all over for the Grappler Mak” King complains. Grappler reasserts his control over Bruce Blank by punching the champion with a stinging right the moment he gets back to his feet, driving Bruce into the corner with 2 well placed fists to the jaw. With a hand on each side of Bruce Charlie Matthews rams his wide shoulder into Bruce’s ample mid section with a shoulder thrust, then follows up with a second one. “THAT CHEATING BASTARD!” Mak yells out as Wayne reaches out from his position behind the ring post and pokes the Grappler in the eye as the big man thrusts forward again. “Cheating? What? Huh?” King says totally unaware of any rule breaking “I mean did the always alert and always attentive Kivell see anything?” King asks knowing full well that both Bruce’s and Charlie’s bodies blocked the referee’s view of what happened. “Well” “Exactly, it’s only cheating if you get caught” The finger to the eye causes Charlie Matthews to back off while holding a hand over his eye trying to get his vision back. Bruce quickly runs the 3 or so steps between them and hits Matthews in the chest with a clothesline, it’s hard enough to stagger the big man but Bruce just didn’t have enough of a running start to knock Matthews down. “It’s like watching two bulls clash, neither is ready to back down from the fight!” Mak says drawing once more on the cliché machine. “That’s what makes this so intense Mak, you can feel both of them just going for broke here” King says “You want hard hitting action? There it is right in front of you!” The King of Pain picks up the staggered Charlie Matthews and then places him on the top turnbuckle, sitting down with his feet on the middle rope. When Matthews tries to move Bruce strikes the big man in the midsection with a back elbow that drives the air out of the Grappler. “What the heck does he have in mind now?” Mak questions since Bruce hardly ever uses the turnbuckles. Bruce’s plan is quickly revealed as he lifts the Grappler off the top rope and holds him in a gorilla press position, now all he has to do is extend his arms to execute the move. “He took the first heavy lift out of the move! Maybe now he’ll actually be able to lift the Grappler up in the air!” King blurts out. Last time Bruce tried to Gorilla press his opponent it was too early in the match but now the timing seems to be perfect as Bruce slowly but surely manages to extend both his arms raising the 306 pound Charlie Matthews over his head in an awesome display of power that momentarily silences even the most rabid Bruce hater. He even holds him there for just a second before throwing the Grappler forward, slamming him to the ground with a loud thud! “Bruce’s power is . . . damn!” Mak says as he is at a loss for words right now. The International champion grabs the Grappler by the hair and manages to pull him up to his knees, but Matthews is sagging, not willing to get back to his feet as he leans forward against Bruce’s legs looking like he’s out cold. The Grappler’s manager looks a bit worried, so worried in fact that he gets up on the apron and starts to yell to Charlie to get an idea of how he’s doing, but being on the apron is a major no-no for a manager which Kivell naturally turns to tell him. *BAM!!* “You dirty bastard!” Mak yells out as Charlie Matthews took the opportunity to land a low blow on his opponent while the referee is distracted. “I’m sure it was an accident, Matthews was probably just trying to look at his wrist watch to find out what time it is” “He’s not wearing a wrist watch!!” “Ah now you’re just splitting hairs.” After the low blow Charlie Matthews takes control of the match with a couple of swifts, sharp fists to the jaw and then a headbutt that knocks Bruce back in the ring ropes. Moments later Bruce finds himself whipped across the ring with an Irish whip from the challenger but in a break from tradition Bruce doesn’t just bounce back off the ropes, instead he hooks the top rope with his right arm to break his momentum. Then as the Grappler comes at him he steps through the ropes to the floor with a frustrated look on his face ONE!! The Grappler holds back, knowing that he’ll only run the risk of a double count out if he follows Bruce to the floor. TWO!! The two Blank brothers seems to be discussing something, laying a strategy maybe as the crowd boos loudly WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! THREE!! After conferring for a moment or two Bruce walks over to the time keeper’s table where he grabs the International title belt and then heads for the exit. FOUR!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Where the hell is he going?” King asks as Bruce angrily makes a sorta “forget this” motion towards the ring FIVE!! “No, no, no, no not like this, not like this!” Mak moans as it becomes apparent that Bruce is trying to get counted out. SIX!! James Matheson complains to Matthew Kivell, begging and pleading with him to do something before Charlie Matthews’ golden opportunity walks out the door. SEVEN!! Kivell stops the count at seven then he turns around and tells Funyon something. “Ladies and gentlemen head referee Matthew Kivell has informed me that if Bruce Blank does not return to the ring before the 10 count he will forfeit the title!!” While Kivell didn’t take the bribe before the match and resents Matheson for even trying something that underhanded he’s not about to let Bruce walk out of there with the second richest prize in wrestling. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! Bruce’s face turns completely pale as he sees Matthew Kivell raise eight fingers in the air. EIGHT!! Bruce runs as fast as he can with Wayne racing ahead of him down the aisle back towards the ring hoping to make it back inside the ring before the fateful ten count NINE!! Wayne leaps up on the apron a couple of steps ahead of his brother yells out that Bruce is here, stop counting. TE- Bruce manages to slide under the bottom rope just before Kivell reaches ten. Unfortunately for Bruce the Grappler is on him the second he enters the ring, kicking the champion in the back before pulling the big man up to his feet again where he locks on a front headlock. But this isn’t another one of the Grappler’s rest holds, instead he drapes Bruce’s right arm over his neck and then grabs hold of Bruce’s jeans. With a wide stance and by using all the power available to him the Grappler suplexes the 295 pound Bruce Blank with force~! *BAM!!* After hitting the suplex Charlie Matthews goes for broke as he pulls Bruce back to his feet and then goes for the Bear Hug. “Well I’m off for a cup of coffee” Mak quips as Charlie Matthews wraps his arms around Bruce’s ribcage and then manages to lock his hand behind Bruce’s back, since Bruce is so wide Charlie isn’t able to grab his wrist like he usually does but has to be content with locking his hands together as he squeezes with every ounce of power in his body. “Don’t look away, something is going to happen any minute now” King admonishes Mak. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” “Any minute now” King repeats almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. The Grappler squeezes tighter each time Bruce takes a breath, constricting the chest, slowing pushing Bruce into a state of oxygen deprivation. The strain of holding on to the big man as he tries to break free of the hold is obvious as Matthews face is all red and he’s sweating profusely from the strain but he’s not about to give up “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” “Yep any minute now something. . . anything will happen” King mumbles Bruce lifts his hands into the air, no doubt looking to go for another ear ringer but is interrupted when Grappler uses his grip on Bruce to lift the big man up in the air and then throws him down with a Spine Buster. Grappler quickly covers the big man hoping to take the International title by a surprise cover. ONE!! TWOO!!! TH- The referee stops counting as he sees Bruce’s foot on the rope. Charlie Matthews gets to his feet, massive arms raised in the air, thinking that he’s won the match – a misconception that Matthew Kivell clears up by pointing to Bruce’s foot that’s still draped over the bottom rope. Matheson yells to Matthews that he needs to get his head back in the game and keep on attacking. “You can tell Matheson is feeling the pressure tonight, he wants the Grappler to bring home the International title this time” “You say that like the Grappler doesn’t want that Mak, I happen to know that Charlie Matthews would like nothing more than to win the title tonight” Says King “Except winning the World title” “Well obvious you moron!” King fires back. With Bruce still on the ground Charlie Matthews takes the easiest way out possible and drops a massive elbow to Bruce’s sternum, then another one and finally a third one to complete the trifecta of elbow drops each designed to drive the air out of Bruce’s lungs. Matheson looks happier and more confident now as he struts around outside the ring singing the praise of the Grappler, meanwhile the Grappler demonstrates that he’s very finely tuned in to what the fans want to see inside the squared circle as he locks on a dreaded rear chin lock “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” “Oh will you come off it!” King says annoyed with the fans resorting to the boring that this quickly. “It’s hardly a scintillating move though is it?” Mak points out trying to defends the audience. “Yeah but it’s VICIOUS! Flash moves is for the Cruiserweight division – this is the International championship we’re talking about, it’s about being effective not being flash” “You’ve just described Charlie Matthews to a T” Matthews has dropped to one knee while pulling back on Bruce’s jaw driving his knee into the back and the neck of the International champion demonstrating just how total his control is at this point in the match. The Redneck Superman tries his best to pry Charlie’s hands off his jaw but the Grappler has the leverage advantage so it’s not that easy. On the outside of the ring Wayne starts to bang on the canvas while chanting for Bruce, probably hoping to get the crowd behind Bruce so that he can break out of the hold. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” “Silly Wayne don’t you know that only works if the audience likes the guy? I mean who here actually LIKES Bruce?” Mak says pointing out the futility of trying to rally the crowd behind Bruce Blank. After holding the rear chin lock on for what feels like forever but is probably just around a minute Charlie Matthews releases the hold, gets back up on his feet and then stomps Bruce right across the back with his size 17 foot. If The Grappler was a charismatic man he’d probably throw the crowd some sort of signal to show that he’s going for his finisher but as it is he just drags Bruce back to his feet and then quickly traps Bruce in the vice like Bear Hug “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” “Again?” “If it works Mak, use it” “Yeah but it hasn’t worked so far” Mak replies pointing out the flaw in his logic. “Hasn’t it? It’s worn Bruce down, I think he’s about done in – and The Grappler has beaten bigger men than Bruce with the bear hug” King says sweeping any and all suggestions that he could be wrong off the table. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” The Grappler has his hands locked tightly together, squeezing Bruce so hard that if you took his t-shirt off right now you’d see a deep red mark all the way around his ribcage. First the champion tries to headbutt Charlie but the Grappler expertly moves his head out of striking distance and then gives the Bear Hug such a hard tug that Bruce forgets all about head butting his opponent Every squeeze he makes he prevents Bruce from breathing, every second he holds it on he deprives Bruce’s lungs of even more oxygen. Even a big man like Bruce eventually falls prey to that, with Bruce that moment has come as his arms sink down and Bruce’s head drops forward onto Charlie Matthews shoulder. “You’ve got him champ! Keep it up, keep it up!” James Matheson yells excitedly feeling the International title coming their way. “Will the Grappler stop Bruce’s run with the title after only 6 days?” Mak asks rhetorically. Referee Matthew Kivell raises one of Bruce’s massive arms up in the air before releasing it – it drops down without any signs of Bruce struggling against it. ONE!! Then he raises the hand a second time and for the second time in a row it drops. TWO!! Matheson runs over and takes the International title off the time keeper’s desk as the referee raises Bruce’s hand in the air for the third time, then he releases it And it drops “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSS!!” James Matheson yells out as he races into the ring with the International title in tow. Matthew Kivell taps the Grappler on the shoulder to get him to let go of the Bear Hug, which Matthews does without protest and then turns towards his manager just in time to catch his manager jump into his arms holding the International title up in the air. “I don’t believe it! We’ve got a new champion!” Mak yells out getting swept up in the excitement. “Hold your horses Mak, Kivell seems to disagree” King says as Matthew Kivell takes the title belt from the Grappler. Kivell tries to explain something to the Grappler, indicating that he’s not the champion, in fact the match isn’t over yet at all. Both Matheson and Matthews question the head referee who explains matters quickly by indicating that Bruce’s hand dropped on the top rope on the last attempt. “WHAT? That’s ridiculous!” “King we’ve got a replay lined up here, let’s have a quick look at what Kivell is talking about.” Mak says as they go to a split screen with the live shot on the left and the instant replay on the right. +=+=+=+=+=+ Instant replay +=+=+=+=+=+ The replay clearly shows that Bruce Blank’s hand landed on the top rope when Kivell released it for the third time, thus causing a rope break instead of a submission victory. +=+=+=+=+=+ End Instant replay +=+=+=+=+=+ “I’ll be damned, Bruce held on to that one by the skin of his teeth” King says “By the film of his teeth probably” Mak adds giving into the temptation to riff on Bruce. Kivell hands the belt off to the time keeper and then makes James Matheson leave the ring, the match is still officially under way after all. The talking and wondering has given Blank enough time to regain his senses enough to exit the ring. “This is getting ridiculous Bruce is on the floor AGAIN!” Mak complains as Bruce rolls to the floor once more hoping to catch his breath after being locked in the Bear Hug for an extended period of time. ONE!! “What are you talking about? He’s toying with the Grappler” King says. TWO!! “You mean like the nerds toy with the school yard bullies by giving them money?” THREE!! Bruce grabs the tequila bottle from Wayne and takes a long drink from it as Charlie Matthews follows Bruce to the floor tired of waiting each time Bruce takes to the floor. The moment the Grappler leaves the ring James Matheson gets up on the apron to distract referee Matthew Kivell, breaking the count and allowing his man a free shot at Bruce. Matthews grabs Bruce by the shirt and spins him around ready to lay in a massive right hand. *FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHH!!* “TEQUILA MIST!!” The Grappler is blinded by a fine mist of tequila mixed with Bruce’s spit in the eyes trying his best to wipe the alcohol from his eyes as he staggers around. Bruce throws the tequila bottle over his shoulder causing Wayne to leap to catch it before it hits the ground. With Matheson still distracting the referee Bruce snatches the International title off the time keepers table and strikes Charlie Matthews over the back of the head with it *CRACK!!* WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! Grappler drops to his knees, his hands holding his head and neck as he screams in agony from the belt shot. It’s not until the Grappler yells out in pain that Matheson realizes that he’s miscalculated and actually allowed Bruce an opportunity to cheat. “That bastard! That cold, sadistic bastard he tried to re-injure Matthews neck!” Mak says outraged over the blatant attempt at crippling an opponent. “What are you talking about? He hit him with a fist” King says totally ignoring the fact that the fist was wrapped in the International title. When Matthew Kivell turns around Bruce holds his hands up in the air looking as innocent as a little lamb while the Grappler is on the floor holding his neck fearing that his neck has been injured again. When the referee starts to count Bruce grabs Matthews by the trunks and the hair and tosses him back inside the squared circle. “See he’s a fair man, he wants this to end in the ring” King says “Yeah we saw that earlier when he tried to walk out on the match!” Bruce slides under the bottom rope, gets to his feet and then slowly drags his thumb across his throat to indicate that he’s ready to put the match to bed. The Grappler is in no position to properly defend himself as Bruce lifts him up in the air, placing him over his shoulder. WHITEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! “No, no, no don’t do it Bruce, Don’t do it!!” Mak yells out as Bruce takes a step forward One step is all Bruce takes though, he’s just not able to run with the big man over his shoulder, not after such a long and hard fought match. After the single step Bruce falls to his knees almost in exhaustion dropping the Grappler into a tombstone *CRACK!* Bruce slumps forward on top of Charlie Matthews after barely pulling off the Broken Dream ONE!! TWOO!!! THREEE!!!! * DING!*DING!*DING!*DING!* BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! It takes a moment or two after the three count is made before it actually registers with Bruce and he pushes off the canvas while Funyon makes the announcement. “Ladies and Gentlemen the winner of the match and STILL INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!!” Bruce looks half way out of it as he waves for Wayne to enter the ring, getting his younger brother to join him in his celebrations. After catching his breath for a moment Bruce takes the fake bushy moustache from Wayne and then bends over putting it on Charlie Matthews upper lip. “There!” *gasps for air* “Come on people – USA!! USA!! USA!!” Bruce chants without much of a reaction from the crowd at the Gund Arena. WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! “The Grappler is just as American as Bruce is!” “SHHHHHHHHHHH!! That’ll be our little secret” the Suicide King whispers with a grin. After chanting “USA” a few more times Bruce gives the microphone back to Funyon and then exits the ring, heading over to the time keepers table to get his belt. “I really thought we had seen the end of those damn belt shots after Jay Hawke was dethroned” Mak says as Bruce passes by the announcing table. Bruce is close enough to actually hear what Mak just said and it doesn’t sit well with him at all, in fact it pisses him off so much that he reaches over the announcers table and grabs Mak Francis by the shirt and then drags him out of his wheelchair and half way across the table. “Don’t you ever mention that name again in my presence, NEVER!!” Bruce yells out as he gets up in Mak’s face “This isn’t about the past, this is about the current champion, it’s about Bruce! Not some guy that used to hold the title, some guy that used to matter!” After the tirade Bruce pushes Mak back in the wheelchair and then stomps off with the International title in hand. “Wow you sure showed him Mak” King says with a sarcastic grin. FADE

Maddix vs. Hawke to be edited in.

SWF junior associate road agent Michael Anderson sits on a crate inside the Gund Arena, looking calmly at his bodyguard, Tracey Bruner. “You sure he’ll call, boss?” booms the massive Bruner. “Of course he will,” replies Anderson. “He’s definitely going to want to do business. In fact, I expect him to ring me up any second now…” RING! RING! RING! Anderson grins slyly, as if to say, “Didn’t I tell you?” He flips open his cell phone. “This is Anderson.” “…” “As a matter of fact, I was just sitting here waiting for your call. I take it that you’ve changed your mind about doing business with me? “…” “No need to get hostile with me,” replies Anderson to the unknown voice. “After all, I had nothing to do with it. However, if you want what I have to offer, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to renegotiate the terms of our association.” “…” “Yes,” replies Anderson, “I’m aware that you got me this job. However, I’ve decided that I want a more prominent position with this company, and I want you to pull your strings to help me.” “…” “That may be true,” replies Anderson. “But I’d like to bring one thing to your attention.” “…” “As you may recall, only one person in the SWF besides me is aware of your secret, and that person no longer holds the same position of prominence within the company. That means that, unless you want me to compromise that information, I’d say that I have quite a favorable bargaining position, wouldn’t you?” “…” “I thought you’d see it my way,” says Anderson, with a conniving smile on his face. “Now, when do you want to make the exchange?” “…” “I’ll be expecting him,” replies Anderson. “Yes… Yes… I’ll be in touch.” With that, Anderson hangs up the phone and looks up at his bodyguard. “It’s like I told you, mister Bruner: chance favors the prepared mind. Now, it’s time to put my plans in motion.”

Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* The heavy drumming of Norma Jean’s “Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only to Destroy It” blasts through the arena as the lyrics pierce the ears of everyone listening. “Like bringing a knife to a gun fight… Like Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight… LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUN FIGHT!” Bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the growls hit the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black hoodie on, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. “Making his way to the ring, hailing from Hollywood California by way of Long Island New York…HOLLYWOOD! SPIKE! JENKIIIIIIINSSSS! Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. WU-TANG CLAN COMIN’ ATCHA! “Protect Ya Neck” by Wu-Tang Clan hits and through the curtains comes “The Divine Wind” Akira Kaibatsu, to a gargantuan cheer from the Gund Arena faithful! Kaibatsu walks down the aisle, receiving slaps on the chest from fans. The Divine Wind rolls into the ring, and steps up to the turnbuckle, raising his arms to the air, as Funyon booms into the microphone. “Weighing in at One Hundred and Ninety Five pound from SENDAI Japan….THE DIVINE WIND…AKIRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA KAIBATSUUUUUUUUUUUUUU” Akira steps off the turnbuckle, and foolishly offers Spike a handshake. Hollywood takes his hand, and pie-faces Akira, sending him back a step or two before the bell rings. Spike’s facial expression cannot be read through the blonde hair, but it can be assumed that he was smirking. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO “And the following is scheduled for one fall with a 20 minute time limit…and is for number one contendership for the INTEEEERNATIONALLLLLL TITLEEEEEEEEE” DING DING DING Spike and Akira lock up, collar and elbow style, but the hold is soon broken, as Akira shoves Aries into the turnbuckle, and referee Byron Dragonson breaks it up. Both men meet in the center of the ring afterwards, and once again tie up collar and elbow style, only to have it broken up in the turnbuckle. The grapplers release the collar and elbow tie up, but Akira gets in a little something before they break up…pie-facing Spike. OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH “Haha, Akira gets a little revenge in during the feeling out process,” In the center of the ring once again, they lock up, this time in a Greco-Roman knuckle lock. Akira wrenches Spike’s arm, but Jenkins rolls forward, spins around, and wraps Akira’s hips for the rear waistlock. Kaibatsu spins around behind Spike, and takes him down by the legs, causing Spike to fall flat on his face. Kaibatsu rolls up Spike, and shifts around sideways, putting a grounded facelock together, “Both of these men are notorious for their mat wrestling, King.” “Yeah, but Spike is notoriously better. Hollywood Spike Jenkins is the best chain wrestler in the SWF bar none,” “Well I won’t disagree with that, King, but isn’t it ridiculous to say Akira can’t hang with Hollywood?” “No one can hang with the King of Cambodia, Francis,” Jenkins spins sideways in the facelock, and squirms out of the facelock. He rolls backwards, over Akira’s back, while grabbing Akira’s arm in the process, for a hammerlock. “That right there is what I’m talking about, King. Have you ever seen a hammerlock applied that way?” Akira tries to get up in the hammerlock, and Spike lets him, but not without a few paint brushes to the back of the head, completely disrespecting Akira. Kaibatsu won’t take that shit though, and he throws Spike over his shoulder, taking him down to the mat, making a quick pin attempt for only one. “Told you Akira wasn’t a slouch,” Both men, once again in the center of the ring, put a collar and elbow tie up on each other. Akira forces Spike into the ropes, but Jenkins over powers him, and switches them around. Spike releases the tie up, and throws a knife edge chop at Akira’s chest. Immediately afterwards, Jenkins throws an everything-but-painful bitch slap at Akira’s cheek, and this is the last straw. Akira shoves Spike off of him and walks over him with a meanacing look, causing Spike to back up, and when he realizes he just ran into the ropes, Akira starts hurling his trademark European Uppercuts. Spike shoves him off though, pounces on top of him, and has Kaibatsu in a mounted position! Kaibatsu puts his arms in front of his face to protect from Spike’s menacing punches. “Mounted punches? A minute and a half ago I’d a told you you were crazy,” Mak comments. “That’s because all you know how to do is call moves.” Akira rolls over in attempt to escape the never-ending battery of strikes, but it only makes it worse as Spike is now throwing punches at the back of his head. One more spin around though and Akira slips out of the mount, and mounts on top of Spike! Spike lifts his arms out and grab the ropes. Byron Dragonsen does his job as the official and breaks the two up. Spike and Akira meet in the center, and Kaibatsu takes action right away, wrenching Jenkin’s arm. Hollywood spins around, and turns the tables on Akira, wrenching his arm, and tries to take Kaibatsu to the ground with the arm. The Divine Wind rolls forward, un-wrenching the arm, and he turns around to face Spike, but Spike is prepared and locks Akira in a front facelock. “This match’s progression is rather strange…first there was a feeling out process…then they started brawling…now they’re feeling each other out again!” Mak shouts. “Oh, be patient. You’re like a little kid, Francis,” Kaibatsu shows his strength though, and lifts Spike up in the front facelock, and walks him over to the turnbuckle, forcing Byron Dragonsen to break up the hold. Spike does as he’s told, but grudgingly. The two meet in the center of the ring once again, and tie up using a Greco-Roman Knuckle lock. It doesn’t stay applied for long though, as Spike shoots his legs beneath Akira sending him straight to the ground. Spike once again races up Akira’s body and locks in the front facelock. “Spike is completely dominating on the mat,” King says. “I’m going to have to disagree with that…” “Course you are,” Spike soon lets go of the front facelock, and mounts him once again, this time in a mocking fashion, paintbrushing the back of Akira’s head. Kaibatsu’s had enough and tries to roll over and get Spike off of him, but Hollywood has his legs wrapped around Kaibatsu’s torso. Akira scrambles trying to figure out what to do, but he doesn’t have that kind of time, and Spike grabs him by the chin and pulls back. “What were you disagreeing with again?” Akira shoves Spike’s legs off individually, and quickly scatters away from Spike, but then swiftly pounces back towards him, grabbing his arm, and wrenching it, and bringing him to his feet. Spike flips forward, and when that does work, he flips backwards and does a headstand, trying to catch Akira’s head with his legs, but Akira shoves him backwards. Spike tries rolling forward one more time, and then the headstand again, but this time he kicks Akira right in the chin! “That one caught Akira off guard!” Mak says. They circle the ring once again. Akira offers a collar and elbow tie up, but Spike shoves him aside and locks in the rear waistlock. Spike then spins around, and throws his palm at Kaibatsu’s chest sending him to the ground. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO “Deplorable!” …YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! Akira kips up! He throws one of his signature European Uppercuts to Spike’s throat, and locks in a front facelock. Spike throws his fists into the gut of The Divine Wind, breaking up the front facelock, and then puts Akira in a cravat. Spike then flips the cravat forward with a snapmare, and crosses his legs over Kaibatsu’s throat with a triangle choke. Spike rolls over in it, and tries to go for Akira’s Skull Fuck maneuver, but Akira knows the move well, and forces himself out of it. He slides up Spikes back, and goes right to that front facelock. He turns the facelock into a headlock, and throws him over his shoulder, for the headlock takedown. Spike slides his feet up, and puts a head scissors on Akira. Kaibatsu tries to kip up out of it, but Spike is squeezing tightly. He spins around, and does a handstand in the headscissors. He then pushes off with his hand, jumps through and knocks Spike’s face in with White Magic!! YEEEEEAAAAAAH! “White Magic! All that chain wrestling pays off!” Spike rolls out of the ring the take a breather, and wipe some sweat out of his eyes. Akira has other plans than to take a break however…he runs at the ropes, bounces back, and jumps through the middle rope, nailing Spike in the throat with his European Uppercut suicida!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “AKIRA FLIES THROUGH THE ROPES!” Kaibatsu picks up Spike by his dyed-blonde hair and throws a forearm right at his cheek. Spike answers right back with a huge knife edge chop, sending Akira back a few feet. Spike turns around, and starts jawing with some fans. “GO ON, DRINK YOUR BEER…I WANT YOU TO DIE!” The fan plays a perfect distraction though, almost as if he were hired by The Divine Wind, as he sneaks up behind the New Straight Edge Sensation, and nails him with a huge elbow to the cheek! He throws Spike into the ring, and climbs the apron. Kaibatsu then flips over the rope, trying to hit Spike with a senton, but Spike rolls backwards! Akira rolls forward with the maneuver though, and turns around to face Spike. He runs at Jenkins and goes for a lariat, but Hollywood ducks under it. Akira then jumps over the ropes and lands on the apron. He throws a forearm at Spike, but Hollywood ducks underneath, so Akira sweeps his legs out in front of him with a kick! He then flips over the ropes, and hits that sneton! YEEEEAAH! “If at first you don’t succeed…” “You probably suck,” King says. Akira follows through with his senton and runs towards the other ropes. He bounces off and drops a huge elbow down onto Spike! “Powerdrive Elbow! Cover!” ONEEEE! TWOOO! THREEE—NO!” Kaibatsu picks up Spike by the hair, and flips him forward with a snapmare. He then steps forward, and nails Spike in the back with a kick. From a sitting position, Spike turns his head to see Akira, and starts talking trash, albeit inaudibly…so Akira kicks him in the chest, and makes a quick cover! “Outsmarts him!” ONEE! TWOOO! THRE—NO! “You can’t outsmart Spike…” Jenkins is caught of guard a bit, and is knocked back into the turnbuckle. Akira keeps on the offensive, as is his style, and runs towards Spike, leaps up, and nails him in the head with a dropkick! YEEEAAAAAAHHHHH! ONEEEE! TWOOOO! THREENO! “Spike’s not lookin’ so hot right now, eh?” Akira lifts up Spike by his hair, and throws a kick to the gut. He then locks Spike in the front facelock, flips his arm over, and goes for a vertical suplex, but Spike blocks it by punching Akira in the gut. He then lifts Akira over the ropes, and now has Akira in a suplex position over the ropes. He tries to suplex Akira back into the ring, but it’s no good. Kaibatsu comes back and tries to suplex Spike OUT of the ring, but Spike won’t have it. He lifts him up, and Akira fights it, so instead of a suplex, he simply drops him, gutting him over the ropes. Spike runs at the opposite ropes, and bounces back. He accelerates halfway through the ring, leaps, and knocks Akira off the apron with a huge kick! Spike then slides through the bottom ropes, and lifts up Kaibatsu by his hair, drags him over to a chair in the corner, and sits him down. He pulls his arm back, and then shoots it forward with a stinging knife edge chop, knocking Akira off his chair. Spike lifts Akira up to his feet once again by the hair, and throws a huge European Uppercut at him. BOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Oh, c’mon, that’s an Akira trademark!” “And he’s allowed to use it, Mak. Wrestling moves are wrestling moves” Spike throws Kaibatsu right back into the ring, and makes a quick cover, only to get a one count. Jenkins, once again, lifts Akira by the hair, and this time locks in a half nelson. He lifts Kaibatsu into the air, and drops him down on his knee for a half-nelson backbreaker! BOOOOOO! Spike doesn’t end the move there though! He lifts Akira right back up, and lifts him into the air once again. He tilts himself backwards, and drives both of his knees into Akira’s back with the Lung Blower! BOOOOOO! Spike can’t go for a cover though, because Akira scrambles to the corner, and sits down. Spike follows him over there, and stands over him, talking more trash. Kaibatsu throws weak, blind punches at Spike’s gut, but they don’t do anything to effect Hollywood. Jenkins then hacks a giant lugey right in Akira’s eye, before raking it. Byron Dragonsen won’t stand for that however, as he yells at Spike telling him to get off. Spike pulls Akira towards the center of the ring, and drops a huge elbow, immediately followed by a pinfall, that gets only a one count. He lifts Akira up, and sends him right back down with a snapmare. He then takes a step forward, and nails Kaibatsu in the back with a huge kick! *SMACK* “Oh, jesus, did you hear that?” “Don’t think Jesus did Mak, but I’m pretty sure I did.” “VERY CLEVER, HA HA HA” Mak then mutters something under his breath. ONNEEEEE! TWOOOOOO! THRENOOOO! Spike follows right up by wrapping his legs around Akira with a body scissors. Akira starts throwing elbows right at Spike’s legs in attempt to break it up, but no luck so far. He tries one more time, but Spike’s great reflexes allow him to catch Akira’s elbow, and not allow him to break up the hold. Jenkins then grabs Akira by the brand new beard, and pulls his face back. “BREAK THAT UP, SPIKE!” Spike does as he’s told…as far as the beard goes, but he keeps the body scissors right where it is. Spike then begins to throw punches right at Akira’s stomach. “HEY! HEY! WATCH THE CLOSED FISTS!” Spike does as he’s told, once again, but he refuses to break up this body scissors…until he rolls him over and makes a cover! ONEEE! TWOOO! THREEENOOOOO! “So close!” Spike lifts Akira by the tights, and scoops him up, as if he were going to slam him back down to the mat, but instead, he drops him down at the turnbuckle, in a tree of woe. He then hooks Akira’s legs so that they are firmly stuck on that turnbuckle. He then ascends to the top, and jumps right back down, feet first! DOOOUUBLLEEEE STOOOOOOOOMMMMP! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO “Spike may have just crushed Akira’s ribs with that double stomp!!!” “Damn straight, Mak!” “JENKINS SUCKS! JENKINS SUCKS! JENKINS SUCKS!” “COVER!” ONEEEEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Akira kicked out! Akira kicked out!” “Impossible!!” Spike, befuddled, picks up Akira by the hair and throws a huge knife edge chop at Akira’s chest, before whipping him into the ropes. Akira bounces back, and unexpectedly swivels around Spike, going for a crucifix pin, but Spike holds his ground, not letting Akira take him anywhere…so Akira rolls upwards in stead of downwards, flipping Spike forward with a sunset flip!! ONEEEE! TWOOOOOO! THREEENOOO! “Akira’s the master of the flash pin, King. He’ll beat you with a flash pin, don’t take that lightly.” Spike is much quicker to his feet than Akira is, and runs at Akira, who is still on his knees, and throws a huge forearm. He lines Akira up against the ropes, and cocks his arm back, and hurls it forward with a huge knife edge chop! Akira’s going to go down swinging though, and he hurls a huge European Uppercut right back at Spike! Jenkins throws his arm forward for a knife edge chop once again…but then stops it, and pokes Akira in the eye. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Spike’s such a dick, it’s ridiculous,” Jenkins locks in a cravat, and once again hits Akira with a snapmare. He then wraps his legs around Akira’s body and goes for yet another body scissors! “Jenkins is reeeeaallly workin’ over that midsection.” Akira once again throws elbows at Spike, trying to get the body scissors off. One after another, and the fans clap along with each elbow. Finally, Kaibatsu hurls enough elbows to get the body scissors off of him. Afterwards, he runs at the ropes, bounces back, and flips over a standing Spike Jenkins going for another Sunset Flip, but this time Jenkins stands his ground, and shoves Kaibatsu’s hands off of him. He jumps into the air, and stomps Akira’s face! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “Stomps Akira’s face in! Beautiful!” “Not if you’re Akira,” “There’s a reason he wore a mask, Francis. Look at him.” ONNEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEE!!! NO! NO! SHOULDER UP!! “Where does Akira get it from?!” “There’s an asian supermarket on the highway in the timeline portal. Maybe he stopped here, Mak?” Jenkins then picks up Akira by the hair, and whips him into the turnbuckle. Spike then runs right at Akira and nails him straight in the forehard with a huge elbow, sending Kaibatsu straight to the mat. Jenkins then heads straight to the top turnbuckle once again, and leaps off. He crouches up… “No! If Jenkins hits another double stomp it’s over!!” And Spike lands!! ….Right on the mat! Akira rolled out of the way! Spike is annoyed, and visibly, as he picks up Akira and hurls another knife edge chop. Spike then runs at the ropes, and springboards off the second one. He turns around, and extends his leg out, going for a kick, but Akira throws his arm out and nails Spike with a hard European Uppercut!! Both men get up around the same time, but Akira is the first to take action. He throws a hard elbow right at Spike’s cheek, and spit comes flying out of his mouth to the side. He throws two more, before Jenkins throws a tow kick right to Akira’s gut. He tries to whip The Divine Wind into the ropes, but Kaibatsu hangs onto his arm, and comes running back, and nails a huge elbow right at his forehead. Spike, even while fatigued, let’s his dickhead shine through, as he bitch slaps Akira. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “I’m getting sick of Jenkins! Put him away, Akira!” “And I’m sick of Jenkins getting held down on the card. He hasn’t had a World Title shot since November!!” “Maybe he’s bitch slapping the bookers!” Mak laughs. “More likely fucking their daughters,” Spike backs up into the ropes, and bounces back forward. He goes for a lariat, but Akira picks him up sideways and hits a huge sidewalk slam!! Cover!! ONEEE! TWOOO! THRENOWAY! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH “Akira was so close to #1 contendership right there!” Both men get up at the same time again, and Spike backs up into the ropes. He runs at Akira once again going for that lariat, but Akira catches him by the throat, and hits Spike’s very own Minor Threat! He then follows it right up with an STO! YEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Akira then sways his body to the left, then over to the right for momentum, and back to the left with a Power Drive Elbow!!! Cover!! ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! TWOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “The Powerdrive elbow almost puts him away!” Akira doesn’t let the kickout get to him. He lifts up Spike, and hits him with a huge forearm. He forearms his all the way back into the ropes, and then whips him over. Jenkins reverses the whip though, and holds onto Kaibatsu’s arm, lifting him up, and dropping his crotch down with an inverted atomic drop! Spike then runs backwards into the ropes, but Akira spins around and nails Spike with a discus lariat!! YEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Spike is stunned, and turns around to face the ropes. He very nonchalantly rests against the ropes…but he isn’t resting for very long! Akira comes running forward, and guillotines Spike’s throat over the ropes by giving him a huge Ace Cutter over the ropes Macho Man style! YEEEAAAAAAHHHH!! “Akira’s really picking up now…He’s going to explode any second!” Akira then climbs up onto the apron, and uses the ropes to fly up into the air, spinning, and landing straight on Jenkins’ abdomen with a Corkscrew Pescado!! ONEEE! TWWOOOOOO! THREENOOO! Akira doesn’t let the kickout discourage him from trying other highflying moves! He immediately gets up, and runs towards the ropes, bounces off the middle rope, and flies through the air backwards, going for a Lionsault!! …but Jenkins gets his knees up, blocking the maneuver!! “Right on that midsection Spike was working on!” Spike makes a cover! ONEEEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOO! THREEEENO! Spike picks up Akira right away, and throws a huge elbow at his cheek. He spins Akira around, and locks in a rear waistlock. He then flips The Divine Wind through the air, for a huge German Suplex!! ONEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “NOOOOOO! THE GERMAN DOESN’T PUT HIM AWAY!” Spike is outraged that the German Suplex didn’t work, and he yells at Bryon Dragonson, before he once again ascends to the top turnbuckle, likely looking for one more double stomp. Akira wont have it though, and he runs towards the side rope, trying to crotch Spike on the top! He then goes towards the turnbuckle, and puts Spike on his back in a firemans carry like position. He then flips forward, planting Spike on his back! Akira rushes towards the top turnbuckle now. He doesn’t do any fancy posing or anything. He just leaps, tilts backwards, and nails Spike right in the gut with a huge back senton! YEEEEEEEAAAHWHAAAAT?! Spike gets the knees up! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Spike got his knees up! Spike got his knees up!” King screams happily. Once again, Spike Jenkins makes a cover. ONEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEENOOOO! “Akira shows some real heart, King!” “Yeah, whatever, it wasn’t even a real move.” ONNEEEE MINUTE REMAINING IN THIS MATCHUP! “Only one minute?!” Mak shouts. Spike realizes that he know has to hurry, and he picks up Akira, going for The Ratings Crash! “Hit it Spike!!” “C’mon Akria, fight out of it!!” Akira’s going to go down swinging if he goes down…he’s throwing punch after punch at Spike’s legs. Akira finally works up the strength to do a sit up, and he begins to through punches at Spike’s head from up top. Spike tries to shake him down, but to no avail! Akira keeps punching! Finally, Kaibatsu goes down… THIRTY SECONDS With a hurricanrana!! YEEEEAAAAAHHH! “Akira just sent Spike down with a hurricanrana!!” Akira can’t get up right away though…so he uses the ropes to help him up. He yells for the crowd to get louder, and they do just that YEEEAAAAHHHH! 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 Akira finally manages to get to the top rope, but there’s so little time left! He leaps off, and flips forward…and then flips forward one more time with a 450 splash!!!! 8 7 5 4 “FOUR SECONDS LEFT COUNT DRAGONSON COUNT!” ONEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! DING DING DING THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! “Ladies and Gentleman this match has been rules a DRAW!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “A draw? That’s so gay! We need a winner! Five more minutes!” FIVE MORE MINUTES! CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP! FIVE MORE MINUTES CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP! Before Byron Dragonson can even ask either one if they want five more minutes, Spike Jenkins has grabbed a microphone. “You want five more minutes?!” He screams. “We just gave you twenty! And a damn good twenty!” Then, a fat fan drinking a beer screams at Spike Jenkins “YOU SUCK DICK!” which immediately gets Spike’s attention. Spike turns around, and says “What was th”—DING DING DING! Akira jumps towards Spike right away, and gets him in a crucifix! He leans to the side, and drops Spike on his head with the crucifix bomb!!! ONEEEEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEE! DING DING DING! “I NEVER AGREED TO THAT!” “Ladies and Gentleman, your new #1 contender to the International Title….AKIRA…KAIBATSUUUUUU!

“Y’know what? I reckon we can take Grappler and Taamo,” Landon Maddix says excitedly, “I mean think about it! You’ve beaten Tom, I’ve beaten Tom, I came this close to beating Grappler for the World Title that one time, and we’re clearly the greatest tag team the fed has seen in years. Those Tag Titles are as good as ours!” “Yeah, but you lost to Tom a couple of weeks ago,” Michael Stephens point out over his shoulder as the pair walk through the Gund Arena, although he seems to be preoccupied. You can tell, due to the fact that he’s not a bitchy as usual. “Eh, Cruiserweight rules,” Landon sniffs as if that explains everything, “just you wait, when it comes to a tag match we’ll own them. Seriously, we’ll just-” “Look, Landon,” Stephens says, turning round, “I’m glad you think this team can work, I’m glad you want this team to work. I think it can work as well, and since Peters seems intent on making us tag together then I figure we might as well win as much as we can doing it.” “Cool,” Landon nods, “but? I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming here.” “Yeah,” Stephens acknowledges, “but right now I’ve got a World Title match to focus on. If you really want, I’ll talk to you about our team afterwards. But for now I need to focus, cos JJ’s going to be doing his best to take my head off-” “Well, well, well.” The voice is a new one, and comes from further down the corridor. Landon looks around, curious to see who the new arrival is. As a result he misses the faint stiffening that comes across Stephens for a moment before the World Champion turns. Coming down the corridor towards them, looking fresh from the showers, is the newcomer to the SWF known as Gabriel Drake. The look in his eye is not pleasant, and he focuses on Michael Stephens to the point where it doesn’t seem that he’s even noticed Landon. “Gabe,” Stephens nods. A careful observer might notice that he swallows slightly, as if with nerves. Landon isn’t such an observer, but it seems that Drake is. “Hello Toxxic,” he sneers, coming to a stop a few feet away. “He prefers to be called by his real name now,” Landon chips in helpfully. Drake turns and looks at him, seemingly seeing him for the first time, then snorts. "Oh, if he prefers it, then of course I'll call him Michael..." Drake sneers with a sly grin, "but take my advice,” he confides to La Cucaracha, flicking a sly glance at Stephens, “watch your girlfriend around this one.” “No problem there,” Maddix laughs, “he’s gay now.” Drake’s eyes narrow, glancing at Stephens, then sliding back towards Landon. “…so what are you? His boyfriend?” Landon’s eyes shoot wide open, and the former World Champion looks first petrified, then angry, then slightly nauseous. Finally he contents himself with turning to his tag team partner and hissing “I don’t like this man.” “What the hell are you trying to prove, Gabe?” Stephens asks. “It was you who broke Karl’s leg, wasn’t it?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Drake smirks, “from what I heard, it was some guy called the Crimson Dragon. I haven’t seen dear old Karl in years - must remember to drop by sometime,” he adds maliciously. Stephens grimaces, and Drake continues. “However, if you’re talking about trying to prove something… well, I’ll admit it’s no coincidence I ended up here where my best friend from all that time ago is the World Champion. We always had a friendly rivalry, didn’t we Toxx?” he says, “so I think it’s only right we continue it now I’m back out in the big wide world.” “Gabe, you’re mad,” Stephens replies flatly. “You haven’t been in a ring for what? Four years? In that time, I’ve held the World Title four times. Bloody hell, even if I lose it tonight I’m still one of the most successful competitors this company has ever seen. And you think you’re just going to walk in and make my life difficult off the back of breaking Karl’s leg and beating up Ced Ordonez?” He leans slightly closer to the bigger man, his earlier nervousness seeming to disappear. “You’re a fucking psycho Gabe, but you’re rustier than the Tin Man after the Monsoon season. That’s my ring out there. Step into it with me, and I guarantee I’ll beat you so bad you won’t know which way is up. You think I’m scared of you? Smarten up.” “You weren’t so cocky on the road,” Drake says, weighing Stephens with his eyes. “You got pretty spooked in that parking lot, didn’t you? And in your motel room.” He laughs suddenly; a disturbing, tearing sound. “You can front it around other people, but we know the truth.” “That was you?” Stephens says, seemingly taken aback. The surprise in his voice seems to confuse Drake, who tilts his head quizzically. “You were expecting someone else?” “Well, I actually thought it was Kibagami,” Stephens admits, which just draws a blank stare from the bigger man. “Kiba-who?” “-gami,” Mike tells him, “like origami, only less paper folding and more headdrops.” Drake still seems nonplussed, and Stephens waves his hand to indicate that it is of no importance. “Don’t worry about it. Had a few… arguments with him a couple of years back. Broke his neck in 2004. You probably weren’t watching much TV at the time.” “Thanks for reminding me,” Drake growls, his momentary puzzlement disappearing. “You know Toxx,” he continues, “you’re partially right. It’s been quite a while since I was in the ring regularly. I’ll admit, it’s going to take a little time for it to come back to me.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain as hard and cold as ever. “The thing is, I’ve got plenty of time. I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Toxx. Everyone I’ve talked to says you don’t back down from fights… these days. So I want you to watch,” he continues, “and see what happens. Because every time I wrestle, and every time I hurt someone new in some interesting way, I want you to notice it. Because one day Toxx, when I’m good and ready, I’ll be stepping up to the main event where you’re sitting pretty. It won’t matter to me whether you’ve got that Big Gold Belt or not. Oh, Peters thinks the match could be huge, but either way I’ll take you, and break you, and throw the pieces away.” He sneers at the World Champion suddenly. “After what you did to me, I found my Beast. You’d better learn to fear it.” “It was too much to hope for that you might have learned from your mistakes, wasn’t it?” Stephens bites out. “The only mistake I ever made was trusting you!” Drake snarls back, and for a moment it looks like he’s about to launch himself bodily at the Englishman. Then he gets a grip on himself and smiles again. Like a shark. “Not yet, Toxx. I’ve had four years to think about this. I won’t let you sweat on it that long, but… you deserve a little time to think things over.” He steps back, sweeps his gaze over Landon again briefly, then turns to go. Maddix just watches him, then turns to his tag team partner. “What was that all abo-” Michael Stephens is halfway down the corridor in the opposite direction. As Landon watches he goes through a set of double doors without slowing down, thrusting out his palms to send both sides crashing back into the corridor walls. A member of the backstage crew in the path of the World Champion takes a look at his face and stands to one side. Stephens doesn’t even seem to notice him. “Damn it, he’s the one with the World Title,” Maddix grumbles, setting off after him, “how come he’s always the moody one…?”

As a commercial for Genesis fades out, we return backstage to the Gund Arena, where Ben Hardy is trying to chase down Wildchild and Melissa Fasaki as they hastily depart from their locker room and head towards the parking lot. “Wildchild!” shouts Ben, hustling to catch up with the couple. “Wildchild, a few words, please?” WC turns to face Ben, looking… well, looking like someone that just got screwed. “Wildchild, I know that you’re disappointed,” begins Hardy. “That was a very competitive match, you looked to be holding your own… it’s very unfortunate the way things turned out… How do you feel?” WC glares at Ben like he just grew a second head. “How do I feel?” Wildchild’s astonishment at such a dumbassed question quickly reverts to anger. Ben tries to back away, but WC grabs him by his shirt collar. “HOW DO I FEEL?” he bellows. “What d’you mean, how do I feel? You saw what jus’ happened: I got screwed by dat coward Van Siclen, an’ now I’m gon’ be suspended for fitty days… how do you T’INK I feel?” “I… I…” “Let’s get one t’ing straight,” snarls Wildchild. “I take not’ing away from Staunton an’ Rageheart. Dey’re both tough wresslers, an’ dey gave me a proper beatin’. But de fact of de matter is dat I had dem beat, an dat snivelin’ little weasel comes out of nowhere an’ cheats me out of my victory! “Van Siclen, I knew dat you were afraid to fight me,” growls WC, as he turns to face the camera, “but not even I believed dat you would stoop to dis jus’ to keep from havin’ t’fight me! Well, let me tell you dis… let me make dis perfectly clear t’everyone: I’m not t’rew wit’ you, Van Siclen, not by a long shot. You t’ink dis is over? Brotha, dis is jus’ getting’ started!” With that, WC and Melissa storm out of the building, leaving Ben holding the microphone with his typically dopey expression… As we: FADE OUT

FADE IN “Ever since Mike Van Siclen made his return to the SWF, Wildchild has been trying to get his hands on him,” says Mak Francis. “And, even though Van Siclen has been able to use whatever influence he has on SWF Commissioner Joseph Peters to avoid the match, he’s finally agreed to face Wildchild, but only if Wildchild can emerge victorious in our next match!” “And this is a match that creates tremendous interest for me,” says the Suicide King. “I’ve been looking forward to this match since the first time I heard of it!” “Why is that?” asks Mak. “Is it because Wildchild has a chance to face his demons with a win?” “No, stupid!” snaps King. “It’s because I get to see Clown-Boy get his ass handed to him by two angry Canadians! Nothing like a little mercenary work to brighten my day, Francis; I tell you, it does my old heart good to know that there are still people in this world that can be bought!” “And, while King exalts in the moral collapse of society,” says Mak, “let’s send you up to the ring!” DING! DING! DING! “The following Handicap Match is scheduled for one fall!” shouts Funyon. “And, if Wildchild wins by pinfall or submission, he will earn a match against Mike Van Siclen! However, if he does not win by pinfall or submission, he will be suspended for fifty days!” Suddenly, “Exciter” by Judas Priest begins to play, and the stage lights up in a brief but emphatic burst of pyro as Scott Rageheart and Kerry Staunton make their way down to the ring. “Introducing first,” says Funyon, “both hailing from Alberta, Canada, and at a total combined weight of five hundred fifteen pounds… Scott Rageheart! Kerry Staunton! The Canadian… MURDER MACHINE!” “There they are,” says Mak, as Scott and Kerry swat away the hands of fans trying to touch them on their way to the ring, “Mike Van Siclen’s two hired guns! I wonder what possessed them to take on such a heinous task?” “Money!” replies King gleefully. “A lot of money! Ain’t it great?” Staunton and Rageheart climb onto the apron and step between the ropes to enter the ring. Staunton removes his letterman’s jacket and hands it over the top rope to a ring attendant down on the arena floor. Referee Red Herrington inspects their kneepads and boots, and then instructs them to head over to their corner, where they review their strategy for the match as their music fades out. The fans begin cheering as Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” then begins to play, heralding the arrival of the Wildchild! The Caribbean Cruiser makes his way out to the stage, hand-in-hand with Melissa Fasaki, and they wave to the crowd before making their way down towards the ring. “Their opponent,” continues Funyon, “is being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! From the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” “Wildchild looks a little apprehensive about getting into the ring,” notes Francis, as WC stares warily into the ring at his opponents. “Well, you can hardly blame him,” says King. “The last time Wildchild ended up in a handicapped situation, it was against TKO, and he got his ass handed to him… and these guys are even bigger than TKO was!” “Unfortunately for the Wildchild,” replies Mak, “he’s going to have to try and get through both of these men if he wants to get his shot at Mike Van Siclen!” “I know!” chimes King happily. “He hates Van Siclen so much, he’s about to get killed for my amusement!” WC removes his shin guards and hands them to his girlfriend, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before somersaulting between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring. He heads towards the edge of the ring, but stops short of his traditional salute to the crowd, as he sees Staunton and Rageheart sneaking up on him from behind. WC spins around just as Herrington steps between them, and orders one of the tag team to head to the apron. “Well, if there’s any good news for Wildchild, it’s that only one member of the Canadian Murder Machine will be allowed in the ring at a time,” notes Mak, as WC’s music fades out. Staunton steps out onto the apron and Red Herrington signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone!” shouts Francis. “And we’re underway!” Rageheart circles Wildchild, getting the Bahama Bomber to follow him until his back is turned to Staunton in the corner. Kerry sneaks back into the ring and heads over to attack WC… WHAM! … Only for the Bahama Bomber to spin around at the last second and nail Staunton between the eyes with a hard right hand! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! The crowd cheers as WC begins hammering Staunton repeatedly in the face, but his assault is brought to an abrupt end, as Scott Rageheart delivers a driving kneelift into Wildchild’s back! “Brilliant!” praises King. “They played Wildchild like a fiddle right there!” Rageheart grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring, lowering his head as WC rebounds and sending him high overhead with a big back-body drop! “Hell yeah!” cheers King, as Scott begins to stomp WC in the chest. “Rageheart sent him into orbit with that one!” Scott pulls WC to his feet and lifts him into a sidewalk slam position before bringing him back down onto his outstretched thigh with a pendulum backbreaker! Rageheart quickly applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild kicks out at two! Scott pulls WC to his feet and leads him over to his corner and makes the tag to Kerry Staunton. Red Herrington begins to administer a five-count as the Canadian Murder Machine both grab WC around the throat and heave him forcefully into the turnbuckles! Rageheart exit to the apron as Staunton begins to kick WC repeatedly in the midsection. Kerry then pulls him out towards the center of the ring and captures him in an arm-trap bearhug before hauling him overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex! Staunton quickly pops to his feet and measures Wildchild for an elbow drop! Upon landing, he reaches over to hook WC’s leg as he applies a half-hearted cover: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild gets the shoulder up! Nonplussed, Staunton pulls him to his feet and leads him over to the corner, where he makes the tag to Rageheart. Kerry holds WC’s arm back, exposing his ribs as Scott returns to the ring and delivers a stiff kick to that very same area! Scott grabs WC by the neck and takes him over with a snapmare; he then jars Wildchild’s spine with a tremendous punt kick! Rageheart pushes him down to the canvas and applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Rageheart pulls WC up at the last second! “Yes!” crows King. “They’re going to deliver some more punishment! You’ve got to admire guys that get into their work!” Scott grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite corner. He runs to the ropes as WC bounces off the turnbuckles and leaps into the air to deliver a flying shoulderblock… But he takes a header into the canvas instead, as Wildchild ducks out of the way! WC rushes out to the apron and waits for Scott to get back to his feet before leaping onto the top rope; the Human Hurricane springs from the top rope, flipping forward as he extends both feet, and knocks Rageheart back down with a Shooting Star missile dropkick that sends him rolling over by the ropes! “Shooting Star missile dropkick!” shouts Mak. “That’s the first real offense that Wildchild has show in this match! WC pulls Rageheart to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Scott still has the presence of mind to reverse. Rageheart bellies out against the canvas as WC rebounds and runs over the top of him, but Kerry Staunton drives a knee into Wildchild’s back as he tries to rebound a second time! WC staggers off the ropes bent over, giving Rageheart a chance to floor him with a charging kneelift to the face! “And there’s the advantage of having a partner out there!” says King, as Scott clears the cobwebs and heads back over to his corner to make the tag. Before exiting the ring, he grabs WC and pulls him back to his feet, whipping him across the ring into the turnbuckle. Kerry then grabs Scott by the wrist and whips HIM into the corner, to blast Wildchild with a running lariat! Rageheart grabs WC by the back of the head and leads him forcefully back towards the center of the ring… CRACK! Right into a Kerry Staunton big boot! Rageheart exits to the ring apron as applies a cocky pin, stepping on Wildchild’s chest: ONE! TWO! THR— Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Staunton pulls WC to his feet and then lifts him overhead in a military press position! “Look at the power display by Kerry Staunton!” marvels King, as Staunton does reps with WC’s weight. “That’s two hundred and fourteen pounds that he’s throwing around like a sack of potatoes!” Staunton tilts to the side and dumps WC casually to the mat. He then heads over to his corner and quickly tags Rageheart back in. Scott heads to the ropes, running directly towards his partner as he rebounds, who snatches him up into his arms and tosses him into the air, giving Rageheart a little more altitude as he comes crashing down onto WC with a flying splash! CRASH! … But Rageheart crashes into the canvas, as WC rolls out of the way at the last second! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Nobody home!” shouts Mak. “And I think that Kerry Staunton may have made a mistake by tagging Scott Rageheart back in so soon!” Staunton charges towards WC, who uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet; the Tropical Tumbler sees him coming at the last split-second and falls to the canvas… pulling the top rope down with him! CRASH! The fans cheer enthusiastically as Staunton stumbles over the top rope and out of the ring, down to the arena floor! WC then wastes no time in taking the fight to the disoriented Scott Rageheart, hammering him repeatedly in the face with piston-like right hands! He pulls Rageheart to his feet and backs him up against the ropes; he grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Scott still reverses easily. He extends his arm to deliver a clothesline as WC rebounds, but the Caribbean Cruiser ducks underneath and runs past him, leaping onto the top rope as he approaches the edge of the ring and curling into a ball as he springs back towards his opponent, knocking Rageheart off his feet with a Pinball attack! “Look at Wildchild go to work!” shouts Mak. “He’s really done a job on Scott Rageheart since he’s managed to take Kerry Staunton out of the picture!” “This is the best chance he’s got at winning,” says King, “so he’d better not waste it! If he hasn’t won this thing before Staunton gets back on the apron, he’s got no chance!” WC quickly exits to the ring apron and heads to a neutral corner, leaping onto the top rope and measuring Scott as he flies back into the ring to drive a fistdrop right between Rageheart’s eyes! He hooks the leg as he applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Rageheart kicks out at two! WC pulls him to his feet and leads him over to a neutral corner. He straddles the middle ropes and begins to deliver a ten-count punch; the fans chant along with his punches: ONE! TWO! THREE! Staunton climbs back onto the apron… FOUR! Staunton rushes across the apron to stop Wildchild… FIVE! CRASH! Suddenly the Human Hurricane stops what he’s doing and leaps over the top rope, extending his body to slam into Staunton with a high cross-body block, catching the bigger man off-balance and knocking them both off the apron; WC lands atop Staunton as they crash to the arena floor! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Tremendous move by Wildchild to catch Staunton off-balance!” exclaims Mak. “That’s the risk that you take when you run across the apron like that!” WC hammers Staunton in the face with hard right hands until he notices Rageheart staggering around the ring; he quickly climbs back onto the apron and leaps onto the top rope. Wildchild springs into the ring, grabbing Scott by the neck as he flies overhead and driving him into the canvas face-first with his patented flipping neck snap! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Whiplash!” shouts Mak, as WC spins his hands overhead. “Scott Rageheart is down! And Wildchild just gave the sign for the Falling Star Press!” Wildchild scampers towards the edge of the ring and leaps back onto the top rope, flipping in a forward motion as he springs back into the ring to crash into Rageheart with his patented Falling Star Press! “There’s the Falling Star Press!” shouts Mak. “This could be it!” ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Staunton dives into the ring at the last second and breaks up the three-count! “Man!” exclaims Mak. “Wildchild was so close!” Wildchild exits to the ring apron as Red Herrington orders Staunton to return to his corner; he climbs to the top turnbuckle and waits for Rageheart to get back to his feet before diving into the ring, grabbing Scott in a waistlock as he flies overhead and pulling him into a Sunset Flip! ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Rageheart kicks out just before the three-count! Wildchild pulls Scott to his feet and backs him up against the ropes; he grabs Rageheart by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but Scott reaches back to make a blind tag before reversing the whip attempt. Rageheart lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop, but WC deftly evades him with a running leapfrog, only to be caught in a bearhug by Kerry Staunton! Staunton continues to hold WC as Rageheart runs towards the edge of the ring, leaping onto the top rope and springing back into the ring… BANG! … To blast Wildchild in the face with a springboard dropkick! “Beautiful dropkick!” praises King. “Great athleticism… and Wildchild’s little insurrection is put down just as quickly as it started!” Rageheart rolls out to the apron to gather himself, as Staunton pulls WC to his feet; the Crazed Canuck traps Wildchild in a front facelock and then reaches down to grab his leg before lifting him up into the air, suspending him upside down in a stalling Brainbuster! “This is how you beat the Wildchild,” says King. “You keep him from making use of his speed, and wear him down with power moves; and this is a nice display of power by Kerry Staunton!” “King, that’s sound strategy perhaps ninety-eight percent of the time,” counters Mak, “but I’ve got to question the wisdom in trying to use a move like this on Wildchild. Let’s not forget that this kid spent half his life hanging upside down as a circus acrobat; I can’t imagine that this is hurting him all that much!” Sure enough, WC regains his faculties and begins to try and get out of the hold, but before he can break free, Staunton turns towards his corner and flings Wildchild forward, dropping him waist-first across the top rope! “That was great!” applauds King. “It was like a slingshot suplex, only he left out the suplex!” Staunton backpedals across the ring, and then calls Red Herrington over to him, pantomiming as though he has something in his eye. While the referee’s attention is diverted from the Canadian Murder Machine’s corner, Rageheart reaches into the ring to grab WC by the back of the head… BANG! … And snatches him off the top rope slamming him headfirst down to the arena floor! “Oh my god!” shrieks Mak, as Rageheart dives off the ropes to drive an elbow drop into Wildchild’s chest. “Turn around, referee! We’ve got a mugging going on outside the ring!” “This is quality entertainment!” says King, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I’m recommending to the board that Wildchild be booked in handicap matches for every Pay Per View… Hell, for every SHOW! This is freaking GREAT!” Rageheart pulls WC to his feet and carries him over to the edge of the ring, rolling him underneath the bottom rope, where his partner applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES! “Ah!” groans King in disgust. “He took the cheap way out!” Rageheart shoves Wildchild’s foot off the ropes before climbing back onto the apron, and Staunton applies another half-hearted cover: ONE! TWO! FOOT ON THE ROPES! “He did it again!” spits King. “Once again,” repeats Mak, “that foot on the ropes saves Wildchild from being pinned!” Staunton gets to his feet and reaches down grabbing WC by the wrists, dragging him towards the center of the ring. “Look at this,” says King gleefully. “Staunton’s going to drag him to the middle now; there won’t be no ropes now!” Kerry collapses atop Wildchild to apply a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Staunton pounds the canvas in frustration before heading out to the apron and climbing up to the top turnbuckle. “Staunton’s up in the high-rent district!” shouts Mak, as WC rolls around on the canvas. “He must be going for that missile dropkick… and Wildchild doesn’t have a clue where Staunton is!” “Wildchild doesn’t know where HE is!” quips King. Staunton waits for WC to get to his feet and then steadies himself before leaping off the top rope… WHAM! … But the Bahama Bomber springs off the canvas at the last second and knocks the bigger man out of the sky with a dropkick of his own! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Tremendous counter by the Wildchild!” shouts Mak. “And it couldn’t have come at a better time!” “It was a nice counter, I’ll give you that,” concedes King, “but he’s still got to deal with Rageheart out on the apron; don’t forget that this is a handicap match!” No sooner does King finish illustrating that fact, than Staunton makes it over to his corner and tags his partner. Rageheart returns to the ring and stomps WC repeatedly in the back. He then pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him across the ring into the corner. Rageheart helps his partner to his feet and then asks him to send him into the corner; Kerry whips Scott across the ring towards WC, but before he crashes into the corner with a running lariat, the Human Hurricane ducks out of the corner and charges towards Staunton… WHAM! … Knocking him down with a running leg lariat! Rageheart turns back towards the center of the ring and charges towards Wildchild, but the Bahama Bomber takes him down with a drop toehold that slams him face-first into his partner’s crotch! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! WC quickly scampers to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds and flipping as he crashes into Scott Rageheart’s back with a somersault senton that drives Scott’s face back into Staunton’s crotch, and causes Kerry to sit straight up in excruciating pain! The fans taunt the Canadian Murder Machine’s predicament as they chant unmercifully: BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! Wildchild pulls Rageheart to his feet and whips him into the ropes, clipping him in the knees as he rebounds with a basement dropkick! WC quickly gets back to his feet and runs to the ropes himself, racing back towards Rageheart… BANG! … And blasting him in the face with a Shining Enzugiri! Wildchild applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Staunton runs over to break up the pin at the last second! WC punches Rageheart in the face as Herrington orders Staunton out to the apron. Wildchild traps Rageheart in a side-headlock, but Scott leads WC back against the edge of the ring and pushes him across the ring into the ropes. Rageheart bellies out as WC rebounds, and Staunton moves over to nail him with a cheap shot, but WC slams on the brakes, shaking a scolding finger at him. Kerry continues to hold Wildchild’s attention as his partner gets back to his feet and charges towards their opponent with a running shoulderblock, but WC sees him coming out of the side of his eye and tumbles out of the way! Rageheart crashes into his bigger partner and staggers backwards into the ring, right into a Wildchild rollup! ONE! TWO! THRE— NO! Rageheart kicks out! Wildchild beats Scott to his feet and ducks a wild roundhouse punch, popping up behind Rageheart and bringing his knees up as he grabs Scott by the shoulders and falls to the canvas… BAM! …. Driving his knees into Scott’s back with a Lungblower! Wildchild gets back to his feet and runs over to a nearby corner, quickly leaping onto the top rope to go for a moonsault… CRASH! … But Kerry Staunton runs over to the corner and pushes Wildchild off the turnbuckles, sending him flying out to the arena floor, where he crashes into the barricade! “Quick thinking on the part of Kerry Staunton to regain control of the match!” praises King, as Staunton returns to his corner, where Rageheart is waiting to tag him in. “That’s the advantage of having a partner!” Kerry drops down to the arena floor and walks around the ring to where WC is leaning against the barricade. He pulls Wildchild to his feet and then lifts him overhead in a military press, before dropping him chest-first onto the ring barricade! “I’m loving this!” cheers King. “The referee is busy checking on Scott Rageheart, so he’s not concentrating on the count, which leaves Kerry Staunton free to do damage outside the ring!” Staunton grabs WC by the wrist and pulls him away from the barricade; he whips him across the ring into the ringpost, and then runs in to follow up with a clothesline… CRACK! … But WC takes him down with a drop toehold, sending the Angry Albertan crashing into the ringpost face-first! Both men are still lying on the floor when Red Herrington turns back around, and begins to deliver a ten-count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! “So King,” wonders Francis, “who do you think has the upper hand at this point?” FIVE! “I still like the Machine’s chances,” replies King. “For the simple fact that they can tag in and out, and get a breather; I just don’t see any way that Wildchild can overcome the odds to win this match!” SEVEN! Wildchild is first back to his feet! EIGHT! Wildchild rolls back into the ring! NINE! Wildchild rolls back out of the ring? “He broke up the count!” exclaims a bewildered King. “He elected to take more punishment, rather than escape with a win; what the hell’s is wrong with him?” “Well, it should be obvious, King,” replies Mak. “Wildchild can’t get what he wants unless he wins by pinfall or submission… so he HAD to break up the count!” Unwilling to even attempt to exert any energy to try and get Staunton back into the ring, WC instead simply rolls back into the ring and lets Red Herrington resume his count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! WHAM! With Red Herrington’s attention focused on Kerry Staunton, Scott Rageheart sneaks back into the ring and levels Wildchild from behind with a running lariat! He then pulls WC to his feet and grapevines his leg from the side, trapping him in a side headlock before snapping him backwards with a side Russian legsweep! Rageheart rolls out of the ring just as Staunton returns to the apron, and Herrington turns his attention back to the action, none the wiser. “I told you before,” says King, “and I can’t emphasize it enough: that extra man is an impossible advantage to overcome, especially when you’re the size of Wildchild!” Staunton stumbles over to his corner, where he makes the tag to Rageheart. Scott storms back into the ring and pulls WC roughly to his feet, whipping him across the ring and scooping him up into a bearhug as he rebounds, spinning around sharply on his heel and planting him into the canvas with a Spinebuster! Scott applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Without missing a beat, Rageheart pulls WC back to his feet and whips him into the ropes yet again, this time leaping into the air as his opponent rebounds and locking his legs behind WC’s head, taking him over with a standing Hurricanrana! “Beautiful!” shouts King, as Rageheart pumps his fist exuberantly. “Not only are they putting a beating on Wildchild, but now they’re beating him at his own game!” Scott pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to a neutral corner; he lifts him up onto the top turnbuckle, and then straddles the middle turnbuckles himself. “What’s he going to do here?” wonders Mak, as Rageheart traps Wildchild in a front facelock. “I know!” says King. “He’s going for that stalling Superplex! This could be it right here!” Scott is so pleased with himself as he taunts the fans with his strength that he fails to notice when Wildchild starts to wake up; the Tropical Tumbler rolls off of Rageheart’s shoulders, grabbing him by the neck as he falls to the canvas… CRUNCH! … And pulverizing Scott’s neck with a hangman’s neckbreaker! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “The Neck Wrecker!” shrieks Mak. “He countered that Superplex with a Neck Wrecker! Rageheart’s not moving!” Wildchild crawls across the ring to a neutral corner, using the ropes to pull himself back to his feet as Rageheart crawls over to his corner, where he feebly makes the tag back to Kerry Staunton. Staunton storms back into the ring and makes his way towards WC, but the Bahama Bomber stuns him with a kick to the face! Wildchild leaps onto the top turnbuckle, twisting his body as he springs back into the ring, but Staunton catches him in midair! The corpulent Canuck charges towards the corner, slamming Wildchild’s back against the top turnbuckle before turning back towards the center of the ring as he plants WC into the canvas with his patented Calgary Stampede powerslam! He holds Wildchild down for a pin attempt: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild kicks out at two! Staunton gets to his feet and looks out into the crowd as he adjusts his right elbow pad. “Here it comes!” exclaims King. “The Axe Bomber; if he hits THIS, it’s all over!” Staunton pulls Wildchild to his feet and backs him against the ropes; he grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring, backing into the ropes to get a running start before taking off after him! Staunton raises his arm as WC bounces off the ropes to deliver the Axe Bomber! CRACK! … But the Tropical Tumbler narrowly ducks underneath, leaping off the canvas as Staunton wheels around and swinging his leg through the air to blast Staunton in the face with a Gamengiri that knocks Staunton onto his back! “Shade of three weeks ago!” cheers Mak. “Wildchild’s definitely got that Axe Bomber well scouted!” WC scrambles to his feet and runs quite unexpectedly over to the Canadian Murder Machine’s corner, leaping onto the middle turnbuckle and springing over the top rope, snaring Rageheart by the head… BANG! … And driving him face-first into the concrete floor with a springboard Tornado DDT! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! The Caribbean Cruiser scrambles back onto the ring apron and briefly raises his arms overhead, cuffing his wrists together, before he brings his hands back down to grasp the top rope as he waits nervously for Staunton to get back to his feet. “Wildchild just gave the sign for Presumed Guilty!” shouts Mak. “He’s already beaten Staunton with this move once before!” Wildchild leaps onto the top rope the instant that Staunton starts to stand up and then leaps into the ring… CRASH! … When suddenly, Mike Van Siclen comes racing in from seemingly out of nowhere and hooks Wildchild by the ankle, tripping him up and causing him to fall on his face in the ring! “Oh no!” cries Francis. “Where did Van Siclen come from?” Without warning, Van Siclen slides into the ring and begins assaulting Wildchild with kicks to the back, in full view of the referee, forcing him to order the timekeeper to ring the bell: DING! DING! DING! “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “I have been informed by the referee that, due to outside interference by Mike Van Siclen, Scott Rageheart and Kerry Staunton have been disqualified! Therefore, the winner of this contest… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “However,” continues Funyon, “Wildchild was unable to win this match by pinfall or submission…” Mak’s head snaps up in alarm. “What?” “Therefore, as a result of the stipulations of the match, Wildchild has been suspended for fifty days, effective immediately!” BOOOOOOOOOO! “What?” Wildchild’s eyes bulge in disbelief as he grabs the referee by the collar. “Dis isn’ fair!” “You’ve got to be kidding me!” shouts Mak. “Mike Van Siclen makes the stipulation that Wildchild has to win the match by pinfall or submission, and then he gets the CMM disqualified! What kind of garbage do you call that?” “I call it brilliant!” crows King. “Mike Van Siclen just played Wildchild like a Stradivarius! He preyed on Wildchild’s emotion, and suckered him into a match that he couldn’t possibly win… And then, just when it looked like Wildchild was going to catch a break, he finds out that Van Siclen stacked the deck! Beautiful, simply beautiful!” Wildchild appears to be on the verge of a fit; he is still clutching onto the referee’s shirt and shaking him violently, stopping just short of causing him physical harm. Melissa rushes in to try and console him, but WC is inconsolable. “What an unfortunate turn of events,” moans Mak, “as Wildchild was lured into a handicap match by Mike Van Siclen in the hopes of earning a chance to face him one-on-one, only the cheated by the final result! Now Wildchild is going to have to sit out for fifty days, but I guarantee that this thing between him and Mike Van Siclen is far from over!” Van Siclen stops at the top of the ramp and turns back towards the ring with a sly grin on his face. He waves goodbye to his nemesis, who continues to cry out in frustration… As we: FADE OUT

As the aura of MANSONOSITY slowly dissapates and Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" winds down, the Gund Arean (Fuck Quicken Loans in its statement of cash flows) is still going crazy [Well, not so much the actual building, as that would be super-wacky, but the fans are totally being wild and crazy kids (With Omar Gooding!)]. And then, a camera man zooms in on an ominious sight: A barbed-wire wrapped panda bear plush toy, suspended some twenty feet above the ring. And then, the camera man pans over to the Suicide King and Mak Francis. "It's time, it's time, it's Stairway to Panda time!" Francis exclaims. "Oh hell yes!" King shouts in agreement. "Blood sport and all that jazz." "Current Hardcore Gamers champion, Jimmy the Doom, is set to defend his title against three other men in an old-school stipulation that promises to reach Damnation in a Box-levels of blood and gore," Mak says. "Very possible, Mak, but it'll be missing a certain element that made Damnation in a Box so great: Namely, Spike Jenkins displaying his lunch for all to see," King points out. "And you can never have enough of Jenkins getting attacked, especially with lawn implements. However, as you said, Spike isn't in this match, so we'll have to settle for Insane Luchador, Mike Van Siclen, and Trent Hawk trying to prove how tough they are," the 'Franchise' says. The lights dim and a single, brilliant, gold spotlight shines down on the center of the stage. And then Living Colour's "Cult of Personality" hits, and Hawk steps out from behind the curtain. And then a shower of sparks form an arch behind Trent as he walks down to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a Stairway to Panda match for the Hardcore title! A stuffed panda, wrapped in barbed wire will be suspended above the ring, and whomever retrieves it is allowed use of it, yet the match shall only end by way of pinfall. Introducing, first, from Hollywood, California, he is a member of the Axis, and weighs two hundred, forty-three pounds, TRRRENT HAAAAWWK!" Funyon booms. Trent stops in front of the ring, glances at a ladder to his left, then to the panda, and slides the ladder into the ring. And then he rolls inside and sets it up. And then Hawk begins climbing, obviously intent on getting the panda now and keeping it for the entire match. "And Trent Hawk is looking to capitalize in being the first man out! I don't see how that's even legal. The match hasn't started yet," Mak says. "Oh, come on, Ironsides, if the match hasn't begun, then of course it's legal," King points out. However, before Hawk is halfway up the ladder, Alice in Chains's "Man in the Box" kicks up, and Insane Luchador runs down the ramp. And then he slides in the ring, springs to his feet, and kips up. And then, the Ill One scrambles up the ladder behind Hawk and lunges, catching Trent in a rear naked choke. And then Hawk falls off the ladder, the extra weight too much for him to bear. "Also in the ring, from Easton, Pennsylvania, at two hundred, twenty-one pounds, he is Your Psychotic Hero, IIIINSSAAAAANE LUUUUCHAAAADOOORRRRR!" Funyon shouts, perfectly rolling his Rs (Your mother likes her Rs rolled, Trebek!) As Luchador continues to choke out Hawk, sirens go off, and The Team's "Hyphy Juice" blares. And then Mike Van Siclen steps out. And then he crosses himself, kisses his fingers, points to the sky (If crazy alternate timeline place has a sky and not just a giant void or something) before walking down to the ring. "Next, from Harrison, Illinois, he weighs two hundred, sixty-three pounds, MMIIIIKE VAAAAN SSSSIIIIICLENN!" Funyon hollers. Van Siclen saunters down to the ring and rolls inside the squared circle. And then he regards Hawk and the Ill One for a moment before folding up the ladder and slamming it across Hawk's chest. "And Van Siclen is softening up Trent Hawk as well. Pretty good strategy to try and eliminate one guy from the get-go," King says. "They could wait for the bell, though, in Insane Luchador's case, I can kind of understand it," Mak says. As Mike wails on Trent with the ladder, the lights go out, and a bunch of marching footsteps can be heard, along with a single word, chanted over and over. 'DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM!' The lights snap back on to reveal a gaggle of druids (Is that the correct term for a group of druids? I know it is for geese, but not sure about druids. A loser of druids maybe? Meh.). And then, Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" plays, prompting Jimmy the Doom and Lois the Unethical to walk out, title belt in Lois's hand. "And finally, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, he is the Hardcore champion! From Doomopolis, Doomtopia, weighing two hundred, thirty pounds, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIMMMEEEE THE DOOOOOOM!" Funyon shouts. Doom climbs into the ring and immediately gets smashed by Van Siclen with the ladder. And then Funyon takes the Hardcore title from Lois and sits down. And then referee Bob Loblaw calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! Van Siclen bashes Jimmy in the face with the ladder a second time, then shoves him over the top rope. And then Mike turns around and sets the ladder up underneath the panda. And then he begins to climb the ladder, but doesn't get far as Insane Luchador shoves a nearly unconscious Trent Hawk away, springs up, and nails MVS with a kidney punch. And then the Ill One grabs Van Siclen around the waist and yanks him down, slamming Mike's jaw into several ladder rungs. And then Jimmy stands back up and rolls inside the ring. "It should be interesting to see how things play out, as both Mike Van Siclen and Trent Hawk have motivation beyond winning the Hardcore title to go after Jimmy the Doom. Doom beat Van Siclen and Hawk's stablemate, Ciro Vitale fairly recently," Mak says. "And, Insane Luchador, of course, sucks and can be written off completely," King adds. "Not in the slightest! Luchador, while on the losing end, managed to survive Pandamonium against Bruce Blank, an impressive feat," Mak points out. "Well, don't forget that Van Siclen had a match against Blank recently, though he lost as well. Jimmy, on the other hand, has a winning record against the longest-reigning Hardcore champion, but has lost in the only hardcore-style match the two had, a four-way affair much like this, if I recall," King says. Insane Luchador turns his attention on Doom and gets tagged with a shotei to the chest. And then Jimmy grabs the Psychotic Hero by the shirt, pulls him in, and cracks him with an elbow. And then Doom nails IL with another elbow. And then the Straight-Bread Sensation begins crossfacing the Ill One with elbow after elbow. And then the Doomtopian chucks Insane Luchador into the corner. And then, Jimmy charges after IL and wraps him up in a side headlock. And then Doom begins to pull the Luchador out, but finds the Psychotic Hero's arms wrapped firmly around his waist. And then the Ill One lifts Jimmy off the mat and plants him with a backdrop suplex. "I thought Insane Luchador might be looking for the GoreGasm as a counter to Jimmy's 73.5267.1094Q80.16, but instead went for a suplex," Francis says. "Well, it's not like he had anything to smash Doom through, except, of course, the ladder," King states. Luchador scrambles up, as does Doom, but before the two can exchange blows, Mike Van Siclen crashes into the Ill One with a forearm to the back. And then Mike wraps the Pennsylvanian up and slams him into the mat with a release German suplex. And then Van Siclen gets up, only to find Jimmy the Doom in the process of burying the sole of his right boot in Mike's gut by way of a spinning back kick. And then Mike stumbles backwards, prompting the Straight-Bread Sensation to charge him. And then Mike recovers enough to close the distance and trip Doom with a drop toe hold, sending his forehead into the very bottom rung of the ladder. "And that should help take something out of Jimmy the Doom! Might knock out a lesser man, but you and I both know that Jimmy the Doom is made out of tougher stuff, right, King?" "Yeah, sure, that's whatever you were talking about for you," King replies. Doom tries to scramble back up, but he gets punted in the back of the head by Van Siclen. And then Mike tries to pull Jimmy off the mat, but finds a pair of crazy hands on his shoulders. And then Insane Luchador spins Mike around and nails him with a left hook. And then the Ill One tries for an elbow, but Van Siclen drives a knee into Luchador's groin. And then Mike grabs IL by the hair, steps under the ladder, and cinches on a cravate, using the hinge of the ladder to choke the Psychotic Hero. "A cravate? Damn it, neither Spike nor Landon are in this match, so why is a fucking cravate being used?" Mak fumes. "Because it's actually effective in this situation," King points out. "But, come on, CRAVATE!" As Van Siclen continues to choke IL, Trent Hawk finally begins to stir. And then Hawk stumbles to his feet and begins to climb the ladder. And then, Luchador plants both hands on Van Siclen's back and shoves, neatly clotheslining him with help from the other ladder hinge. And then the Ill One backs up and throws a dropkick at the hinge that was recently asphyxiating him. And then the ladder nearly snaps shut, sending Trent off balance. And then Hawk falls to the ground on his back. "Insane Luchador stops Trent Hawk for a second time in getting to the panda, and it looks like he has a chance with everyone else on the mat," Mak points out. "Well, he's got to set it up first, and since he is from Pennsylvania, that's a level of engineering he's unfamiliar with," King replies. Luchador pulls Hawk off the mat, shoves him into a front facelock, and falls back with that Insane Luchador staple, an Evenflow DDT. And then the Psychotic Hero gets to his feet, picks up the ladder, and begins climbing. And then Jimmy the Doom rises, runs to the other side of the ladder, and starts his ascent. And then, thanks to his long limbs, the Straight-Bread Sensation gets to the top of the ladder first, only to get cracked in the ribs by the Ill One. And then Insane Luchador smashes Doom with another punch. And then IL cocks back to throw a third blow, but the Hardcore champ nails him with a two-handed palm strike, nearly shoving Luchador off the ladder. And then Jimmy grabs hold of the panda's torso, but seems to be having trouble unhooking it. And then Insane Luchador slides down the ladder and kicks it over, leaving the Straight-Breader to dangle above the ring. And then the Psychotic Hero folds the ladder up, picks it up, and swats at Jimmy the Doom with it. "Looks like Insane Luchador is trying to hit Jimmy the Doom out of the park with that ladder," Francis says. "I don't see how that's allowed," King mumbles. "And why wouldn't it be? Pretty much anything goes in a Stairway to Panda match," Mak says. "True, but that ladder is made of metal, and metal bats are only allowed in college and high school. Insane Luchador is a professional, so he should be using a wooden one," King points out. "Yeah, but you just said metal bats, so what does it matter what the ladder is made out of?" the Franchise questions "Hey, a whacking stick is a whacking stick!" King shouts. Jimmy the Doom gets smacked in the legs with the ladder, but Insane Luchador doesn't really have that much power behind his swings, however, it still probably hurts. And then, the Straight-Bread Sensation finally manages to detatch the panda. And then he realizes that he's fairly high off the ground, which, incidentally, is moving up very fast to meet him. "That's got to hurt! Jimmy the Doom just took, what, a twenty foot fall?" "Perhaps, but this is Jimmy the Doom we're talking about. Besides, now he's got the panda. You know, that sounds incredibly stupid," the Suicide King mutters. Insane Luchador swings the ladder of Doom's head, but the champion manages to roll out of the way. And then Mike Van Siclen (Remember him?) gets up, walks towards the Ill One, grabs him by the face and drops, driving his knee into the back of Luchador's head. And then Jimmy lunges at Van Siclen, hitting him in the face with the panda. And then Mike's hands shoot to his face, allowing the Straight-Breader to shove the bear under Van Siclen's shirt. And then Jimmy boots Mike in the gut, driving the barbed wire into his belly. And then Doom just unleashes with a barrage of kicks to Van Siclen's stomach, no doubt tearing into Mike's decidedly non-straight-bread basket. And then Doom catches Mike in a double underhook, lifts him up, and drops the big man stomach-first across the ladder. "That's a very creative way to use that panda, though Jimmy the Doom doesn't really have many moves that target the midsection," Mak points out. "Aside from Jimmy's Jump, yeah, but, still, that's got to hurt like shit," King says. Trent Hawk slowly gets up and just barely ducks a Doomtopian kick that was aimed for his head. And then Hawk dives towards Jimmy, nailing him with a flying punch to the crotch. And then Trent tries to lift Doom up, but Jimmy wriggles free and blasts Hawk with a shotei to the jaw. And then Doom hits Hawk with another palm strike, sending him into the ropes. And then Trent bounces out, right into a double handed choke lift from Doom, who spins around and sits out, driving the Californian into the mat with a powerbomb. And then the Straight-Bread Sensation tosses his legs over Hawk's arms. And then Bob Loblaw dives to the mat to count the pin. ONE! TWO-No! "Nearly a two count after that Jimmy Bomb, but Trent Hawk is a fairly tough individual," Mak says. "If Doom had slammed him into the ladder, then maybe that would have gotten the three count," King points out. Jimmy pulls Hawk up and notices Insane Luchador on his feet. And then Doom nods to the Psychotic Hero, possibly passing him some kind of plan telepathically. And then the Straight-Breader drags Trent by the hair to the ropes and Doom steps outside. And then the Doomtopian grabs Hawk by the head and drops off the apron, slamming Trent's trachea into the ropes. And then Insane Luchador snares the stumbling Hawk by the waist, lifts, and drives him into the ladder. And then Luchador makes a cover as Doom scrambles to get back in the ring. ONE! Jimmy races towards Luchador, Hawk, and Loblaw (Attorneys at Law). TWO! Doom dives for Insane Luchador. THR-No! "And the pin is broken up by Jimmy the Doom! Insane Luchador might have been the new Hardcore title after that GoreGasm onto the ladder, but Jimmy breaks it up with a double ax handle!" Mak shouts. "See? Smash a guy into something metal and he stays down longer," King says. Insane Luchador gets to his feet and eats an elbow from Doom. And then Jimmy hits Luchador with another elbow before whipping him to the ropes. And then Doom chases after the Ill One, leaps, and knocks him flat with a flying front kick. And then Doom picks IL off the mat and throws him out of the ring. And then the Straight-Breader peels Van Siclen off the ladder, picks it up, and tosses it on the Ill One. And then Jimmy bends Mike over and slams him to the mat with the Doom Factor. And then Jimmy rolls Van Siclen over and makes a lateral press. ONE! Insane Luchador pushes the ladder off of himself. TWO! The Psychotic Hero climbs on the apron and rolls inside the ring. THREE! Luchador flies and crashes into Doom, knocking him off of Mike Van Siclen. And then Bob Loblaw stands up and signals for the bell. DING! DING! DING! "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIIIMMEEEEE THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon bellows. "And Doom retains after a somewhat short, but violent match," Mak says. "Yeah, I really wouldn't want to be Mike Van Siclen right about now. Well, I never want to be him, he's kind of lame, but especially not now. And it's not really the whole 'his stomach is all cut up' thing, but it's the 'he just lost to Jimmy the Doom again' thing," King says. Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" plays as Doom grabs his belt and heads back up the ramp with Lois the Unethical. And then Ground Zero fades to something far more entertaining, probably, like, a promo package for anything else.