Justice

Kotz, you're talking out of your ass. Palestine has been drifting closer and closer towards the radical side for a while now. To call this a 'backfire' on our part is basically taking away all responsibility from the Palestinian people: These were the people who had Arafat as their leader for how long? There is no one responsible for this but those who voted for fucking Hamas. Honestly, after this, I'm getting to the point where they should just be fucking shelled off the Earth. God...

Force nothing. If they want that government, it's their deathwish. And I really don't remember us forcing it. They had already voted more than one time on a government and a Prime Minister.

The Main Event - SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. JJ Johnson -> Appologies. Didn' t even notice I was grading this. -=-=-THE CLUSTERFUCK-=-=- 1. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins 2. Laberinto 3. "The Rage" Jason von Dierch 4. Stryke 5. Manson 6. Christian Fury 7. Ghost Machine V. 2.0 8. The 70's Dude 9. Wes Davenport 10. Todd Cortez 11. Matt ??? Myers (go wild) 12. Candace "The Joshi Dragon" Okimura 13. Kevin Coyote 14. The Crimson Skull 15. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix 16. Bruce Blank 17. "The Icon" Max King 18. Zyon 19. TORU Takahara 20. Tim Dillon -> My top 5 goes: Wes Davenport, Todd Cortez, Landon, Coyote, and Spike, in that order. Why? Well, Muzz is probably the best 'pure' writer out there, and I have an odd suspicion that he'll show for this. Cortez and Landon are simple picks, just because they are among the most consistant writers in the fed. Coyote has shown a lot of talent, though he's just gotten a ton of bad breaks as of late. Spike, as much as I'd love for him to win, has match pacing going against him: It's a lot harder to try and figure out a believable way to last through 20 guys. While he has the most riding on it, I think he is also going to have the toughest time of anyone here. SWF International Championship Match Jay Hawke © vs. Wildchild SWF Ultraviolent Championship Match - Japanese Deathmatch - Best of Five Bruce Blank © vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu -> Good guys always win... EVEN IN THE EIGHTIES! Uh... yeah... so Akira. SWF FROST Pre-PPV Extravaganza Blowout Extreme to the MAX! Singles Match Michael Cross vs. Ced Ordonez -> Cross, no prob. Let's see what the new guy can do, though. Additional Clusterfuck Match Predictions: How many will actually turn in a match? -> 6. I have high hopes. Who will be the MVP of the Clusterfuck? (You know, the guy that lasts almost the whole match but doesn't end up winning.) -> Probably Spike for everyone, though if someone decides to switch it up, I can see Christian Fury making it.

Good little starter promo. Very tres' chiq. And I fixed the subtitle for ya.

If you can call Janus a "Dartboard", then yes, yes we do.

Yes. In theory, no one knows who is coming out when, just like the Royal Rumble.

When was this Iron Man Match?

... I have no son! *Storms off*

The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN! LIVE, MONDAY JANUARY 23rd, FROM THE *SOLD OUT* KINGDOME IN FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA! (11 PM EST, 8 PM PST. Check your local listings!) Finally! Free of the whiniest sponsors this side of Disney, the SWF moves North, to the Kingdome to celebrate the less restrictive and far more lucrative business offers. Built back in 2002 by Robert Jackson Frost, the Kingdome has become a second home to the SWF (Right after the Gund Arena). With the Clusterf**k coming up, one wonders what sort of craziness is abound the week before the Battle Royal to end all Battle Royals? OPENING PROMO: Bruce Blank MAIN EVENT TAG TEAM MATCH El Luchadore Magnifico© and Kevin Coyote vs. Todd Cortez and JJ Johnson -> Talk about a match! This match means a lot for everyone involved: one side has a champion that needs to reassert himself in the ring and a rookie who needs to prove that he deserves to be in the Main Event. On the other side, you have a man who wants to recapture his spot in the top tier, and another who wants the momentum to take the title at the Clusterf**k. A lot is on the line, but who will be able to come through when the pressure is on? Rules: Standard Tag Match w/tag ropes. Word Limit: 6000 Marker: realitycheck INTERNATIONAL TITLE MATCH LADDER MATCH Jay Hawke© vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins -> Jay Hawke… what can't be said about him and his unstoppable reign as International Champion? Well, for Joseph Peters, it just isn't good enough; he wants to really test how far Jay Hawke can go. From now on, it looks like Jay Hawke will be defending his title just about every show, something which hasn't been seen since the days of Fallout's Light Heavyweight Title Reign. Can Jay Hawke stand the heat, or will he meltdown in the spotlight? Rules: Standard Ladder Match. Word Limit: 5500 Marker: chirs3 SINGLES MATCH Wes Davenport vs. Wildchild -> A feature match! Wes Davenport and Wildchild are both coming off big wins against Christian Fury and Max King, respectively. While this match isn't for a title or a reward, Creative Control is watching, and whoever wins will definitely be moving up the SWF Hierarchy. Rules: Standard Match. Word Limit: 4500 Marker: Justice TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH TKO(?)© vs. Landon Maddix and "The Icon" Max King -> Finally, a Tag Title Defense! Something we've been waiting for since 2005, and it's finally here! Unfortunately, TORU Takahara's partner won't be here to defend it. Commissioner Peters, being the generous man that he is, will allow TORU to find an alternate to stand in for KOJI. But will an untested partner be good enough to hold out against the veterans Maddix and King? Rules: Standard Tag Match w/tag ropes. Word Limit: 5000 Marker: The Satanic Angel SINGLES MATCH Zyon vs. Matt "The Cosplay Master" Myers -> Eh, why not? We need a laugh. Thusly, a very angry Zyon will get to vent his post Title Shot frustrations on everyone's favorite tool, Matt Myers, Master of Cosplay! Who will he dress up as? Will it look like a girl? If so, will it still have male genitalia? Who know (And who really wants to?)! Rules: Standard Match. Word Limit: 4000 Marker: Justice BATTLE ROYAL! Jason 'The Rage' von Dierch vs. Manson vs. Labertino vs. Christian Fury vs. Stryke -> Inkeeping with SWF Tradition, five people get to compete in a practice Battle Royal match before the Clusterf**k. For the losers, some valuable experience to use during the PPV. For the winner, the choice of any spot in the Clustef**k. Anyone feeling lucky? Rules: Standard Battle Royal – Only way to be eliminated is by going over the top rope and no disqualification. Word Limit: 4750 Marker: janusd OPENING MATCH OF DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!! Ghost Machine 2.0 vs. The Crimson Skull -> Oh Hell YES. Now THIS is what wrestling is all about! Two invincible titans battling it out in the ring for supremacy, most likely in incredibly hilarious ways! Who will walk away from this showdown right out of the comic books?! Rules: Standard Match. Word Limit: 4500 Marker: chirs3 And much, much more! (Send all marked matches and promos to chirs3) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Alright, so on the whole new "Sponsorship" thing: What the new sponsorship idea entails is sort of a Power Rankings for the week. Instead of listing everyone, though, and keeping track of ranks, it'll be represented by you getting your own commercials and endorsement deals. The better you do, the bigger the product. This isn't just based on wins and losses, though; it's based on running angles and putting out promos as well. This isn't fully win-based, nor does it matter where you are on the card: If you are running a particularly interesting angle, or doing a lot with your own position (Whether it be JL Television Champion or SWF World Champ), it's CC's way of recognizing that you're doing a good job. So... yeah. I honestly had it explained a lot better in the AIM convos I pitched it during. At any rate, someone will be pitching Frost-Brand Whale Tacos, so we'll all win in the end.

God, he didn't even have it as bad as Mel Gibson.

Shouldn't God be madder at Iraq? If God was out to get various countries for crimes committed, wouldn't he start with places a little more notorious for evil? God doesn't work for the Indians, man. That's what happens when you choose the wrong God.

I would, actually.

All this shit... is it like karmic retribution for the Liberals secretly killing puppies or something? Sweet Jesus, this makes the last US election look positively professional.

I agree wholeheartedly with this.

Yeah, I picked it up and read that one for the first time every. What happens with Supes' friends, especially Krypto, is fairly heartbreaking. Great story.

They don't keep the rights of every citizen, though. Rights of prisoners are restricted and regulated. When you commit a crime and are convicted, you do lose certain basic priviledges and rights (Privacy, Rehabilitation? Meh. It's an interesting idea, but the focus should be on the crime, not on the person. How do you rehabilitate a murderer, or a rapist? And what do you consider 'rehabilitated'? Honestly, the whole thing is fairly nebulous. I always felt that 'rehabilitation' made it seem like the prisoner was more important than the victim of the crime. I believe you give that up when you commit a crime. You lose your voice in public say when disobey the law. Why? Because you get politicians like the Liberals, who are pandering to criminals to get into office. We shouldn't have to make campaign promises to people who are serving time for things like armed robbery, rape, and murder? Shouldn't Howard be concentrating on the populace who isn't serving time? Those who are getting out can vote in the next election. Exercise your vote once you've served your time. *Sigh* No offense, but you are ignoring the fact that simply incarcerating them is a punishment, along with a restriction of rights. Even restricting them in some way for atonement could be considered a form of revenge. By your definition, the whole of law is set around revenge. Revenge is about causing pain to another for previous actions. Punishment doesn't necessarily equate to pain, it's simply a penalty. Like the box in Hockey, you are sitting out because you broke the rules and are no longer allowed to participate. Of course, I'm sure you find that very inhumane as well. Ah, great. Sucking up to get votes. Aren't you outcasting them in the first place by locking them up away from the rest of society? Even if it is 'for their own good', you're still seperating them off from society. Citizenship, while not rescinded, has many privledges revoked or restricted. First off, you're a Republic. Secondly, there have always been voting restrictions: Look at the age restrictions. It's similar to that, in a sense, only rather than age it is the choices you have made.

DC, while not always having the greatest or most original characters/gimmicks, deliver so far above Marvel that it just isn't even funny. I'm utterly amazed at how good some of this stuff is.

Back when the Smarks Junior League was in full swing, the lowest belt was the TV Belt, which was supposed to be defended every show. I simply used this as an example because it was the lowest belt in the history of the Smarks Wrestling Leagues. Sorry if I confused you.

Stryke, you now have a match (The Battle Royal).

Excellent, excellent show. I'll explain the whole 'Sponsors' thing in the card, which will be up in about an hour or so. Again, great show! Keep it up!

SWF Lockdown begins, curiously enough, with two words: Earlier today... We see a group of sharply-dressed men milling around inside an office in the Qwest Center, not doing anything in particular... "Gentlemen!" The camera turns and we see Joseph Peters, looking like he hasn't slept in a couple of day but sporting a grin nonetheless. "Glad you could make it," he says, in a slightly cracked tone. "Please, please, follow me - I'd like to show you some of the changes we'll be seeing in the coming weeks here on Lockdown!" "Mr. Peters," one of the men steps forward, "are you OK sir? You don't look well." "Fine! Great! Never better!" "If this is a bad night, we can come ba-" "No sir, tonight's just fine! After all, it's not just any night that our sponsors pay us a visit - please, this way!" A nervous glance works its way around the room on everyone's face but Peters, who remains disturbingly cheerful. They shrug, then follow him out the door. Immediately, we notice a thin haze hanging around the hallways, and as they move, it gets thicker. One of the exec's begins coughing, and now we see the Suicide King walking through the hallway, chewing on a cigar! "King! Hey, how's it going!" Peters calls out to him. They shake hands and exchange pleasantries, then King turns to leave, blowing one last puff of smoke in the sponsors direction. Peters and the sponsors round the next corner, and now see a whole host of SWF Superstars gathered around a cooler full of Pepsi Max, all smoking cigars! "Drinks, anyone?" Peters asks, as he tosses a Pepsi MAX to the representative from the Coca Cola company. "Or how about some cigars? Fine stuff, here. The boys all love 'em." "Smoking? Are you crazy? You can't have people smoking on this show - it sets a bad example for the kids!" "Ah, come on - the kids can get in on it too!" Peters proudly announces, pulling a small plastic tube from his jacket pocket. "See? Toy cigars!" "Pepsi MAX? I thought-" "Relax, relax! Come on, I've got some more stuff to show you!" Peters disappears around a corner, and the sponsors have no choice but to follow (and get away from the ever-growing cloud of smoke). As they round the bend- "Run for your life!" "He'll kill us all!" - Bruce Blank leans against the wall, surrounded by a number of different weapons - light tubes, ladders, chairs, tables, thumbtacks, rubber duckies, broken beer bottles, inner tubes, metal eXodus masks- "Calm down, guys, it's OK! I asked him to be here." "I thought you suspended him!" Peters ignores that last comment as he saunters up to Blank. "Hey Bruce - getting ready for your match tonight?" "You bet," Blank responds with a knowing grin. "Whatever the hell it turns out to be, I'll be ready for it." "Excellent! Have a cigar!" Stevens hands him one, then turns back to the sponsors. "Don't worry, we've reached an understanding. Everything's just fine. Come on!" They're dragged down another hallway, with barely enough time to absorb what they just saw when a rack of T-Shirts suddenly jumps out in front of them! The sponsors recoil in horror as they see the shirts - the front says YOU MESS WITH MANSONOSITY, and the back shows horribly mangled corpses with the tagline YOU GET BURNED~! "Where are those going?" Peters barks at the man pushing the rack. "To the souveneir stands!" "Excellent! Remember, these shirts are five dollars off if an entire family buys them!" "Yes sir, Mr. Peters!" The sponsors, most of whom are now red in the face, struggle to keep up as Joseph jogs ahead- "Damnit Peters, what the hell is going on here-" "Relax, relax - you haven't seen the best part yet!" Peters ducks inside a dark room, and returns with a box stuffed full of DVD's - "The SWF's Most Violent Matches". "Normally we'd only be selling these online, but now we've got the green light to sell them at shows! They're going to be next to this giant display here, at the front of the arena - sort of a two for one deal!" - Peters points to a giant cardboard cutout of Mayor McCheese hanging from the cross, housing DVD's labeled "The Passion of the Cheese". "It's our first direct-to-DVD movie!" exclaims Peters, gushing with pride. There is an awkward silence. "Joseph, have you lost your goddamn mind?!" "... you don't like my changes?" "Are you trying to sink this show?" "Sink? Are you kidding? Viewership will increase tenfold - trust me, I've checked." "Well I am not going to have my company's name attached to this filth!" "Me neither! You'd better have a damn good explanation for this, Peters!" The sponsors all cry out in unison, and Joseph calmly listens to their complaints, for about three seconds, before a dark figure appears behind him, and the hallway goes dead quiet. "I believe my explanation is standing right behind me." The sponsors' eyes move up... up... up... up some more... little more... "Some of you may recongnize him - I don't know how many of you sponsored us during his run, but he's made quite name for himself in the business world since his retirement. He's damn near monopolized the Taco and Cigar markets... anyone?" Stunned silence. "I told you I was looking into new sponsors, and that we would not be renewing our contracts with you - I guess you just didn't expect it to happen so fast," Joseph says with a smirk. "Honestly, neither did I - but it's amazing how quickly you can accomplish something when you're as desperate as we were, and when you've got the backing of someone like Robert." One of the sponsors dares to open his mouth. "You're replacing us with him? What, you'll run five minutes of cigar and taco ads for EVERY commercial break?" "No no no," Peters says, still grinning, "that would be silly. There are others." As if on cue, a number of equally sharp-dressed suits walk by, and Peters gives them a wave. "As of midnight last night, if my lawyers are to be believed, our contracts with you were terminated, and our contracts with them," he motions to the suits, "took effect." "How-... how did you-?" "In two days, even," Peters interrupts, grinning like an idiot. "I do feel a little bad, though, dropping this on you so suddenly... normally, I'd have given you more warning, but... to put it frankly... I just really hate you guys." Stunned silence. Again. "Come on, don't worry it - you just worry about finding newer, better shows to drag down with you into the toilet. Because from now on, SWF Lockdown is no longer your show. It's mine." For a moment, a rare intensity flames in Joseph's eyes, enough for each of the now-not-sponsors to take a few steps back. Joseph's face quickly reverts back to it's creepily happy version. "Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a show to run. Frost, could you show these men out?" No need, apparently, as they all run for the door. Peters grins, and he turns to Frost. "Thank you, Robert - I couldn't have done it without you." "Actually, I'm beginning to think you could have." Peters looks up at him, a bit surprised. "Not many people would offer up what you did," Frost continues. "That took guts." "It was the only way." They turn around, and begin walking back to Joseph's office... "You know your boys are going to be pissed when they find out how you got those sponsors, right?" Joseph's smile droops, just a bit. "I know they will... but honestly, if you were still wrestling - wouldn't you prefer this over 'no headlocks or chairshots'?" Frost laughs, a deep booming laugh, then says "Goddamn right I would." "They won't like it, but they'll get over it," Peters continues, as the two of them walk back to his office. "And at least, for the moment, things are back to normal." The two disappear around a corner, and we slowly fade into the Lockdown Intro.

"What the hell, Joseph?" Peters looks up, very pleased with himself, to see an equally pleased Tom Flesher standing in his doorway. "When I told you to call Robert, I was thinking you might get a solution a couple of weeks from now... not, you know, two days." Joseph's response is to hold up a bottle of champagne. "Have a cigar, and a drink." Joseph hands Tom a Frost Brand Cigar, then fills up two glasses and hands one to Tom, who takes a sip. "... horse piss." "Cheapest bottle I could find." *clink* They tap their glasses together, and take another swig. "I have to know - how did you do it?" "How did I do it? You pointed me to Frost - I should be thanking you." "I knew he knew people - I didn't know he knew people desperate enough to do this..." "Well," Peters chuckles, "when you're desperate, you do desperate things," then downs the rest of his glass. He starts to pour himself another, while Tom just looks at him, now maybe a bit worried. "How'd you get them so fast?" "I made them one hell of a deal, that's how." Peters stands up, and begins a slow walk around the room, because it seems like what you're saying is more important when you do that. "I knew that any new sponsors we got would be hit just as hard by those nut-job censor groups... you know how it is, they organize boycotts of products advertised on the show, they stage protests, blah blah blah... I knew Robert wouldn't care either way, but I had to give our new sponsors a guarentee that they wouldn't lose any money if the shit hit the fan." Tom, highly amused (more at the fact that Joseph is getting drunk than anything else), asks "What did you give them?" Peters moves to the door, making sure no one is outside. "Promise not to tell anyone? I mean, I'll have to tell everyone soon enough, but I want them to at least celebrate tonight." "My lips are sealed." Peters checks the door one more time, then moves back to his desk and picks up a thick folder, and tosses it to Tom. He opens it, and begins perusing the contents. "... these are the contracts our wrestlers are signed under-" "Almost - they're the new contracts." "New?" Flesher's eyes go wide. "Don't worry, don't worry, they're identical to the old ones, except one... one little thing." Tom keeps scanning the pages, until his eyes rest on a small, almost unnoticeable clause buried deep in the back pages. He reads it to himself, as Joseph waits. Slowly but surely, Tom's eyes widen again. "... if I'm reading this correctly... the new contracts require... free endorsements, from SWF Superstars?" "Ding ding ding ding, we have a winner!" Joseph shouts, just a little too loud, before sipping his champagne again. "In order to woo our new sponsors, I had to guarentee them a way to recoup anything those wimpy-ass parent groups cost them." "So you lend them our talent, for their commercials and advertisements... for free..." "Exactly. Celebrity selling power, minus the ungodly cost of celebrities... now, now don't worry - they can still pursue endorsement deals outside of our immediate sponsors, but for the time being, their contract will require them to appear in commercials for our benefactors." Tom grins, half amusement and half amazement. "This is gutsy, Joe. I'm not sure they'll be too happy about it." "It fixes my immediate problems - that's what matters." "You could have taken your time with this - switched sponsors a few months down the road, and not had to give up this much." "I could have, yeah, but... I was just so sick of those assholes... of this namby pamby fuzzy wuzzy family friendly nonsense... I don't think I could've taken another show without losing it, Tom. I really don't. I don't think the ratings could have taken it either. They're going to jump, you know... now that we've tossed Family Friendly out on its ass, they're going to come back." "I hope so... for your sake." Joseph stops... grins... and pours himself another glass. He tilts the bottle to Tom, who shakes his head. "Nah, I gotta get going." "Ok then... hey - want some cigars for the road? Tacos?" "No thanks. I'll see you later, Joe." "Ok... seeya," says Peters, and he waves as Tom steps out, closing the door behind him. Peters talks a slow, winding walk back to his desk, plops down in his chair, and has another drink. All in all, this has been a very good day. SWF Lockdown - 1/18/06 Rule of Law Productions © 2006 The SWF: “Raising Workrate by Typing Faster”

Pete: “Welcome back to the Qwest Center in Omaha and what may be the best episode of Lockdown we’ve seen in months…” King: “At last the wicked family-friendly rules are dead!” Pete: “…And we’re getting ready for what should be an amazing main event. In a rematch of their classic match at Genesis VI, Jay Hawke will defend the International Championship against Zyon, the cruiserweight champion, in a Canadian Death Match.” King: “And why is only Hawke’s title on the line?” Pete: “Because Jay Hawke has held the title for seven months while Zyon just won his three weeks ago.” King: “Right. And Hawke’s defended his championship more recently, so in reality, Zyon should put his belt up here, not Hawke.” Pete: “At any rate, the rules are quite interesting here. To win, you have to score a combined ten count, with only three counts or greater counting. How does that factor into this match tonight?” King: “It means we’re going to be here all night. First off, as a wrestler, you’re conditioned to think that a three-count wins the match, so the instinct is to kick out at two. Second, these two guys went nearly forty minutes back at Genesis VI before gaining one three count. Getting a series of three counts? Jesus, if this goes at the Genesis pace, it could be Genesis VII before this match ends.” Pete: “This definitely has the potential to be a classic confrontation. With that, we go to Funyon for the opening introductions.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Canadian Death Match for the SWF International Championship!” YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Funyon: “Here are the rules. There are no disqualifications or countouts, nor are there submissions. The only way to win this match is to score a combined pinfall count of ten, with only pinfall counts of three or more contributing to the score.” The arena goes black as the words “I’m Born”, “I’m Alive”, and “I Breathe” alternate on the Smarktron. “Vitamin” by Incubus kicks in as the crowd immediately goes into a frenzy. Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger. From Elkhart, Indiana, and weighing in at an even 200 pounds. He is the reigning SWF Cruiserweight Champion … ‘the Unique Youth’ … ZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYON!” YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! After a moment of build the young Zyon emerges through the curtain, and pauses at the top of the ramp. Zyon scans the excited audience before busting out an innocent grin as he sprints down the ramp. Zyon leaps on to the ring apron before flipping into the ring with a simple leap and twist of the wrist. Once in the ring, Zyon energetically performs a simple head bang before lifting one arm into the air, ending the entrance. Pete: “Listen to this capacity crowd. These fans want to see a title change tonight, King!” King: “But you know as well as I do that Jay Hawke isn’t going to lie down for Zyon or anybody else. He might have the crowd on his side, but Zyon has to pin Hawke for at least ten seconds to win the International Title, and since he’s yet to do it for three seconds in a title match, I doubt he can do it.” Pete: “But Zyon has, in fact, scored more pinfall victories over Hawke in sanctioned matches than anybody else in the SWF.” King: “In tags and non-title matches. They mean nothing.” The music changes to “Learning to Fly” by Pink Floyd, thankfully ending the argument between Longdogger Pete and Suicide King. As the lights dim, Funyon introduces the opponent… “And his opponent. Hailing from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio, and weighing in at 215 pounds. He is the reigning and defending SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The International Champion takes the booing in stride as always, heading to the ring as the spotlight illuminates his sequined robe. As Jay Hawke begins ascending the steel ring steps to enter the ring, the fans begin their trademarked chant: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” Hawke chuckles at the chants -- after all, if seven months as champion doesn’t teach them, nothing will -- and removes his robe, revealing his beautiful championship belt. After folding his robe and handing it to a ring attendant, Hawke takes off the title belt, kisses it, and hands it to senior referee Matthew Kivell. Matthew Kivell holds the belt into the air for the entire crowd to see it is, in fact, on the line, and you can sense a tension in the air. Zyon came so close last time he got a shot, and you can almost feel the title change coming. Zyon seems destined to win, much like the Pittsburgh Steelers upsetting the Indianapolis Colts. Pete: “What a match this is going to be, King. Their match at Genesis was a match of the year candidate.” King: “And it’s going to be almost impossible to top that match, but I can’t wait to see them try.” DING DING DING! Suicide King doesn’t have to wait long. Both wrestlers move to the center of the ring, staring each other down, neither man wanting to blink just in case it shows weakness. They move in, and Hawke goes for a lockup, but Zyon quickly sneaks behind the International Champion and takes him down with a schoolboy rollup… ONE TWO! THREE! Shoulder up. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! King: “What?” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the score is Zyon 3, Jay Hawke 0!” Jay Hawke quickly gets to his feet and tries to take Zyon down with a lariat, but Zyon ducks underneath and hooks both of the Dean’s arms before falling backwards into a crucifix… ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Jay Hawke quickly rolls to the arena floor to try to gather his bearings, and Zyon plays to the crowd’s overwhelming positive response. Pete: “Unbelievable! Zyon picked up three quick points in the first ten seconds of the match, and the International Champion seems flustered!” King: “Well, the advantage of these rules is that one fluke pin isn’t enough to win the championship, but I have to admit I’m in absolute shock right now!” Jay Hawke takes advantage of the no countouts rule, standing on the concrete floor trying to figure out what in the hell went wrong. After a moment, he reenters the ring, trying to figure out his strategy. They move in again, and this time they do lock up collar-and-elbow. Jay Hawke takes Zyon down to the mat with a snap arm drag and smiles, as even that one move is enough to bring his confidence back. Pete: “Do you believe this? One move and Hawke thinks he’s got things well in hand.” King: “Hey, one big move might be enough to get a ten count.” Pete: “But an arm drag?” King: “This is wrestling. You’ve seen stranger things happen.” They lock up again, and this time it’s Zyon taking Hawke down with a snap arm drag. The Dean of Wrestling quickly gets to his feet, but the challenger is right there to take him back down with a dropkick. Hawke is back up again, and another dropkick catches the International Champion in the chin. Jay Hawke rolls to the outside to catch a breather, but Zyon sets himself, and the crowd begins to buzz… King: “Look out, Jay! Look out!” …as Zyon runs forward and dives through the ropes, twisting in midair as he collides with Jay Hawke just as Hawke turns toward the ring. Pete: “Impressive tope con hilo by the challenger, and he’s taking the fight right to Jay Hawke tonight!” King: “Well, Zyon has been wrestling every match since he returned from his injury like it’s his last! And if he misses one of those moves, it just might be his last match, especially against a technician like Jay Hawke!” Knowing he can’t win the title on the floor, Zyon grabs Jay Hawke and rolls him into the ring. As Jay gets to his feet, the Unique Youth sets himself on the ring apron. Hawke turns around, only to see Zyon use the top rope as a springboard and catch the Dean with two flat right in the face. The crowd erupts as Zyon goes for the pin: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Pete: “Only a count of two, and this match has been all Zyon at this point!” King: “Hawke will find a way to get on track. He’s got everything under control!” Pete: “Well, he can’t get himself to disqualified to keep the title like he did before he injured Wildchild a couple of weeks ago!” Jay Hawke rolls over to the corner, thinking the ropes will provide the safety he needs to catch a breather. Unfortunately for him, he actually sets his challenger up beautifully, and Zyon once again drives his feet into Hawke’s skull with an elevated basement dropkick. Hawke slumps to the mat and rolls to the floor again as the crowd erupts. ZY-ON! ZY-ON! ZY-ON! The crowd’s cheers fire up the cruiserweight champion even more, and he grabs the top rope as the International Champion struggles to his feet. Zyon then takes to the air, slingshotting himself over the top rope and landing on his opponent with a cross body block. Pete: “Tremendous pescadoe by Zyon there!” King: “I don’t believe this! No matter what Jay Hawke does, he just can’t get away from Zyon’s flashy offense!” Pete: “Hawke was able to keep Zyon grounded at Genesis, and that largely led to the victory, but tonight he’s been unable to do so.” Zyon once again rolls Hawke into the ring. He again sets himself up on the ring apron, and this time Hawke isn’t moving. Zyon again slingshots himself over the top rope, driving a leg across the champion’s chest before once again going for the cover: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Pete: “Another near fall! Zyon might pitch a shutout at this rate!” King: “No way! He can’t! He just can’t!” Pete: “You don’t sound convinced!” King: “Shut up!” With Hawke still down on the mat, Zyon mounts himself on top of him and begins to rain down on the International Champion with forearm and elbow strikes to the head. He then stands up, pulling Hawke up to his feet while doing so. Zyon picks up Hawke and swings him around, dropping him onto his head with an Aero driver. Zyon points to the corner, and the crowd erupts knowing what’s coming next. Pete: “Aero Driver by Zyon, and I think he’s going for the Final Flash right here!” King: “He might be, but he’d better be careful that he doesn’t take too much time getting up there!” Zyon climbs to the top turnbuckle, and, after briefly acknowledging the crowd, leaps off the buckle, doing a full front flip before coming down back-first… “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” …right onto the knees of the International Champion. King: “What did I tell you, Pete? Zyon went for the end of the match way too soon, wasted just a split-second on that top rope to pander to these fans, and now Jay Hawke’s got the advantage!” Pete: “And he did it by getting a solid shot into Zyon’s back, which is what kept him out of action for over two months!” King: “And watch that back become a bulls-eye for the champion here.” Indeed, Hawke rolls to his feet, and he sees Zyon on his knees, putting his hand over his back like he’s in pain. He immediately goes after it, driving a knee into the back to bring Zyon down to the mat. Hawke takes advantage of Zyon’s prone state and drives a series of knees into the back, finishing it off by pulling back on Zyon’s chin while he grinds the knee into the spine. King: “And here is where Jay Hawke is at his finest. He is targeting one particular part of the body -- one that has a weakness at that -- and is wearing him down with it.” Pete: “But remember, Hawke can’t win this one by submission. It’s pinfalls totaling ten full counts.” King: “True, but if Zyon can’t move because he has a broken back, how is he supposed to kick out of a cover?” Pete: “Well, that’s probably a good point.” Jay Hawke releases the chinlock, then drives the knee into the back for good measure. Hawke then pulls Zyon to his feet and levels him a couple of European uppercuts, the last one sending the Unique Youth back into the corner. Hawke moves in and, summoning every bit of leverage he possibly can, whips Zyon so hard into the opposite turnbuckle that Zyon arches his back before collapsing to the canvas. The Dean pounces, hoping to at the very least tie the contest: ONE! TWO! THRE -- kickout. Undaunted, Jay Hawke lifts Zyon up, dropping him over his knee with a backbreaker. Hawke goes for the pin again: ONE! TWO! THRE -- Kickout! Pete: “A couple of near falls for Jay Hawke, but he’s been relentless on that back since countering the Final Flash a few moments ago!” Zyon tries to pull himself to his feet, but Hawke puts Zyon in a standing head scissors while hooking in a waistlock. Jay Hawke then lifts Zyon into the air, bringing him over the shoulder and pulling down with all the pressure on the Unique Youth’s back. Pete: “How about this? Jay Hawke busts out the Sammartino backbreaker!” King: “Bruno himself would be proud! All the pressure on the back of the challenger, and he might be moments away from quitting!” Pete: “But again, submissions don’t count!” King: “Now, but he might be willing to stay down for ten seconds if his back’s in enough pain!” The pain is etched on Zyon’s face as he tries to ignore it but can’t. And since even tapping out wouldn’t necessarily let him off the hook, he needs to find a way to escape. Zyon begins flailing his legs, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. It works momentarily, as he frees himself and lands on his feet behind Jay Hawke. However, Zyon clutches at the back instinctively, and Jay Hawke turns and drives his knee into the small of his opponent’s back. The force of the knee sends Zyon crashing head first into the turnbuckle, and Jay Hawke immediately rolls Zyon into a cradle: ONE! TWO! Jay Hawke hooks the tights. THREE! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FOUR! Zyon finally kicks out, but the damage has been done. Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the score is now Jay Hawke 4, Zyon 3.” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Pete: “Jay Hawke takes the lead, but he needed a handful of tights to do it!” King: “Hey. Matthew Kivell didn’t see it, which means the pin counts. And all Hawke needs to do is keep working the back, and it’ll be over sooner rather than later.” Which is exactly what the International Champion is thinking. He begins to drive his forearm into Zyon’s already-weakened back, forcing his challenger to his knees. A double-axhandle to the back knocks Zyon onto his stomach, and Hawke stomps the back once for good measure. Hawke then hooks his feet around the back of Zyon’s legs, grabs him by the waist, and leans back, pulling Zyon until both men are parallel to each other with their backs toward the mat. Pete: “Excellent surfboard here by the champion.” King: “Pressure on the knees, the arms, and the back. Simply a hold that hurts every major appendage on your body.” Pete: “But Hawke needs to make sure his own shoulders don’t fall to the mat here, or Zyon could end up retaking the lead.” Struggling to maintain the position of the hold, Hawke leans backwards, bringing Zyon backwards himself until Zyon’s shoulder blades fall onto the mat: ONE! TWO! THR -- Zyon rolls to the right to kick out, alleviating Hawke’s grip on the hold at the same time. King: “He got him! Three more points for Jay Hawke!” Pete: “No! Matthew Kivell is saying it was only a two count!” King: “Then somebody send Kivell back to elementary school! That was three!” Zyon struggles to pull himself to his feet again. Hawke drives another forearm into Zyon’s back, then picks him up into a side slam position, only to drop him back-first across the knee. Jay Hawke immediately goes for the pin: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Undaunted, Jay Hawke makes his move, going over to Zyon’s feet and hooking them underneath his arms. Hawke then spins around, turning Zyon over onto his stomach and sitting back, putting all the pressure onto his challenger’s back. Pete: “And Jay Hawke has the Boston crab applied here!” King: “This is why you can never allow Jay Hawke to see your weaknesses! The second that Zyon began to favor his back, Jay Hawke began to do his damage on his opponent. Now, the International Champion is sitting on his back in the center of the ring…” LET’S GO ZY-ON! King: “And the chants from these fans are doing nothing to cut down on the pain!” LET’S GO ZY-ON! LET’S GO ZY-ON! But Zyon does hear the chants from the fans, and he begins to show some signs of life. Zyon begins to crawl to the ropes, desperate to get to them to break the hold. He crawls slowly… …. Slowly… … Think turtle slow here. … As the crowd continues their chants, Zyon reaches out for the ropes, six inches away from what he sees as his salvation… … …only for Jay Hawke to drag Zyon back into the center of the ring and tighten the hold by kneeling down with a knee to the back of his neck. Pete: “No! Zyon was so close!” King: “So close and yet so far! And the beautiful thing is that even if he taps out here, that won’t force the break either! Submissions don’t count!” With that, the air has left the sails of the fans. Zyon struggles to fight the pain, and he tries to crawl forward again. The process is even slower, as you try crawling with a knee digging into the back of your neck and see how well you move. But he does crawl. … Slowly. … Slowly. … We’re taking getting passed up by a snail here. … … And Zyon does reach the ropes this time, and Matthew Kivell asks for a break. … “Like hell!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Pete: “Damn it! Jay Hawke is refusing to release the Boston crab here, King!” King: “Brilliant! He doesn’t have to! There are no disqualifications in a Canadian Death Match!” Pete: “But this is a clear attempt to injure a man, not to win a match!” King: “Hey, family-friendly rules no longer apply! Hawke can try to injure the man if he wants to!” Jay Hawke finally gives in to Kivell’s request to release the hold, although it’s definitely not because he’s a nice guy. Hawke then proceeds to stomp on Zyon’s back repeatedly, doing so essentially nonstop until Zyon rolls harmlessly to the arena floor. Pete: “Zyon rolling out to the concrete floor, and he may be trying to buy himself some time like Hawke was earlier.” King: “But I don’t think he’s going to get the chance, Pete. Jay Hawke has already made his move to the arena floor!” Pete: “Come on!” King: “Hey. You have to win it in the ring. You can’t win this match on the concrete floor.” But you can hurt your opponent on the floor, which is exactly what the Dean of Professional Wrestling has set out to do. As the Unique Youth stands up, Jay Hawke leans into his midsection with his shoulder and pushes forward, driving the small of Zyon’s back into the corner of the ring apron. And again. And a third time. Zyon begins to slump forward, but Jay Hawke holds him up. Forearm smash, and Hawke spins Zyon into the position he wants him in, then fires him across the concrete floor. Zyon hits the steel guardrail right where the aisle meets ringside, flipping over the corner of the guardrail and landing harmlessly…sort of…in the entranceway. Pete: “Dear God. What a tumble over the guardrail.” King: “Have you ever seen Jay Hawke with the vicious streak we’ve seen out of him these last two weeks or so?” Pete: “No, never.” King: “I’ve got to say I like it, too.” Pete: “You would.” Jay Hawke walks over to Zyon and picks him up, ready to slam him onto the floor. Then he gets another idea. He walks over to the very corner of the guardrail that Zyon just tumbled over and slams him onto that, driving the back over two pieces of steel simultaneously. Pete: “Enough is enough!” King: “Hey, if Zyon wants it to stop, all he has to do is reenter the ring and allow Jay Hawke to pin him for six seconds. That’s it.” Jay Hawke drags Zyon to the ring and rolls him back inside, then slides back in and covers Zyon for the sure pin: ONE! TWO! THR -- NO! King: “Just like th-- WHAT?” Pete: “Zyon refuses to fall further behind in this contest! He kicks out unbelievably, and the score remains 4-3!” King: “Does this kid have a death wish or something?” Beginning to get frustrated, Jay Hawke mounts himself on top of Zyon and begins leveling him with forearm and elbow strikes, showing even he can learn something from stablemate JJ Johnson. Zyon covers up, trying to block some of the blows, so Hawke gets up and kicks him in the ribs instead. The International Champion then pulls the Cruiserweight Champion to his feet, then once again whips him hard into the turnbuckle. Zyon staggers forward, trying to remain on his feet, only for Jay to charge him and take him down with a leg lariat underneath the chin. Jay Hawke goes for the pin: ONE! TWO! THRE -- and Zyon gets the left shoulder up. King: “Stay down, kid! You’re going to end up in a wheelchair if you keep trying to kick out!” Jay Hawke again brings Zyon to his feet, this time driving a series of elbows into the kidney before locking Zyon into a tight waistlock. Hawke lifts him backwards, taking him over into a picture-perfect German suplex: ONE! TWO! THRE -- kickout! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! King: “Dammit!” Pete: “Zyon refuses to allow himself to fall further behind in this contest!” King: “And it’s going to cost him his career! Two back injuries in three months or so? He’ll never come back from that!” Jay Hawke once again pulls Zyon to his feet, sensing that high impact moves are the way to go. He locks Zyon into a front facelock, then takes the Unique Youth over with a picture-perfect vertical suplex that jars the back and spine. Hawke goes right into another cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Wasting no time, Jay Hawke brings Zyon back to his feet again, this time going for yet another vertical suplex but snapping him down to the canvas with it. Another cover: ONE! TWO! TH -- kickout. Hawke slams the mat in frustration as he once again pulls Zyon to his feet. Hawke goes for another suplex, but this time Zyon gets his foot behind Hawke’s to prevent the takeover. Zyon then drives his knee repeatedly into Jay Hawke’s midsection, and the crowd begins to erupt, sensing the big comeback. Zyon goes to lift Hawke for the suplex, but he barely gets the champion off his feet before favoring the back and deflating the crowd. Hawke, maintaining the suplex setup position, backs up a few steps, then lifts Zyon into the air, holding him upside-down for a few seconds before falling backwards and driving Zyon back-first onto the top turnbuckle. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Pete: “Oh my God…” Zyon falls off the turnbuckle and collapses to the mat. Jay Hawke drags Zyon into the center of the ring, hooks the far leg, and covers: ONE! TWO! THREE! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FOUR! FIVE! SI -- kickout. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! King: “Keep cheering, morons, but it’s only a matter of time right now!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, that was a five count, increasing Jay Hawke’s lead to 9-3!” Pete: “The International Champion came less than a second away from winning the match and retaining his championship right there, and now it only takes one standard pinfall to win the match.” King: “While Zyon in all probability still needs two falls, possibly three. And I’m not sure his back is going to hold up long enough for him to get them.” Jay Hawke once again pulls Zyon to his feet. Hawke sets up for the suplex into the corner again, but Zyon kicks his legs as Hawke tries to lift him and quickly turns it into a small package: ONE! TWO! THREE! Kickout. YAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, that was a three count for Zyon, cutting Jay Hawke’s lead to 9-6!” YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Pete: “And that’s how quickly Zyon can get a pin and win the championship, King!” Jay Hawke immediately hops to his feet and takes Zyon down with a killer lariat. King: “And that’s how quickly he can get his momentum killed. He still needs a four-count to win it, and he hasn’t gotten one of those yet!” Hawke pulls the Unique Youth to his feet and locks him into a reverse headlock, then drops down, driving the back of Zyon’s neck over the knee. Hawke immediately goes for a cover: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout! Wasting no time, Jay Hawke gets to his feet and drops a leg across his chest, immediately going into another cover: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. “DAMMIT!” Pete: “And the frustration is beginning to set in on Jay Hawke here! Much like at Genesis, he has done nearly everything he can think of to put Zyon away, but Zyon has absolutely no quit left in him!” King: “He might not have any quit in him, but he’s hurting, Pete! And being hurt is not the position to be in when you’re in the ring with Jay Hawke!” Jay Hawke pulls Zyon to his feet, driving a couple of knees into the midsection as he does so. With Zyon doubled over, Jay Hawke hooks both of Zyon’s arms and lifts him into the air, flipping him over so Zyon’s back lands on Hawke’s knee. Pete: “A double underhook backbreaker, and Hawke goes for yet another cover.” ONE! TWO! THRE -- kickout! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Pete: “And Zyon kicks out yet again!” Clearly running off of frustration, the International Champion rolls out to the concrete floor and grabs the title belt off of the timekeeper’s table. Pete: “Oh come on! This is what he used to injure Wildchild two weeks ago!” King: “And this time, there are no disqualifications! He can use it to pin Zyon and retain the championship right now!” Jay Hawke rolls into the ring and stands up, waiting for Zyon to return to his feet. Zyon pulls himself to his knees, then lunges forward to catch Hawke with a shoulder to the gut to double him over. Then, like a flash, he gets to his feet and does a full backflip, kicking Jay Hawke in the face on the way over and sending the title belt flying out of his hands. The belt lands in the corner of the ring nearest Zyon, and Hawke lands flat on his back on the canvas. Pete: “Flash Kick! Cover that man and take the championship right now!” King: “He can’t, Pete! That move took every bit of strength his back had left to execute! There is absolutely no way he can cover Hawke here!” Zyon grimaces in pain, the effects of nearly fifteen minutes of punishment to the back taking their toll. However, he does one have an equalizer and begins crawling toward it… … YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Pete: “Zyon has grabbed the International Title belt!” King: “Get your damn hands off that! That isn’t yours!” Zyon pulls himself to his feet and turns, swinging at the International Champion as he makes his way to his feet. SMACK! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Pete: “HE HIT HIM WITH THE BELT!” King: “NO!” Pete: “The cover!” ONE! King: “NO!” TWO! Pete: “He needs a four count!” THREE! Pete: “One more!” FOU -- NO! Jay Hawke just barely rolls the right shoulder up. YAAAAAAAAAAAA -- BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, Zyon pins Jay Hawke for a three count, evening this contest at 9-9!” King: “I can’t believe this!” Pete: “Zyon has come from six points down to even the match at nine counts apiece, and he’s one pinfall away from winning the International Championship!” Zyon pulls himself to his feet, obviously hurting from all the punishment to his back but able to ignore it with the adrenaline flowing, Jay Hawke also pulls himself to his feet, and Zyon is there to lock in a bear hug and turn the champion over into a belly-to-belly suplex, making sure to land on top of the champion for the cover so as not to do any unnecessary damage to the back: ONE! TWO! THRE -- NO! King: “That was too close! Come on, Jay!” Zyon struggles to pull Jay Hawke back off the canvas and onto his feet. Zyon sets him up for a suplex, but he favors his back trying to take him over. He goes for it again, but again he favors his back before he can lift him. He tries a third time and lifts him a few inches off the mat before simply falling down and driving the International Champion onto his head. Zyon grimaces in pain as he turns for the cover: ONE! TWO! THRE -- NO! Pete: “I think Zyon went for the snap brain buster there, but he couldn’t get the full effect with his back hurt as badly as it is!” King: “And if he does that with a healthy back, he quite possibly wins the match right there.” Both combatants struggle to pull themselves to their feet. Zyon catches Hawke with a couple of forearm strikes to the face, then hooks Hawke’s leg and head and drives him down face-first to the mat with a reverse Russian legsweep. Hawke rolls onto his back as Zyon gets to his knees, pointing to the top rope. King: “What is he thinking about here?” Pete: “I think he’s going to the top rope! He wants to win the title with the Final Flash!” King: “That’s stupid! As bad as his back’s hurting, it will take him forever to get to the top rope!” It does take Zyon longer than normal to climb to the top turnbuckle, but with the adrenaline flowing the way it is, not as much time as you’d think. Zyon tries to steady his shaky legs, then leaps, doing the forward leap that is the Final Flash… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! …and landing back-first onto the title belt that Jay Hawke has conveniently held in front of him. Pete: “Oh no!” King: “Oh yes!” Jay Hawke rolls into the cover before Zyon even has a chance to catch his breath: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING DING DING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! King: “He did it! Son of a bitch, the champion pulled it off!” Funyon: “In 19 minutes 38 seconds … the winner of this contest, by a score of 12-9 … and still the SWF International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” Pete: “In the end, it was all that work to the back that did Zyon in, as he took too much time going for the finishing move and hit the title belt instead of--” Pete gets cut off in mid-sentence by Jay Hawke leveling Zyon in the back with the championship belt. Pete: “--what the hell is he doing?” King: “Finishing what he started!” Pete: “Dammit! The match is already over!” Jay Hawke wastes no time locking in a camel clutch, sitting back on Zyon with all the weight he can muster. Pete: “And into the camel clutch! I thought he said he respected Zyon!” King: “He does. Why do you think he’s trying to eliminate the competition?” Jay Hawke pulls back even further on the hold when suddenly the crowd erupts. In the corner of the screen, we see Wildchild spring boarding off of the top rope, catching Jay Hawke in the back of the head with a dropkick that sends him out of the ring. Pete: “WILDCHILD IS HERE! Wildchild has just saved Zyon from permanent injury!” King: “Yeah, but he’d better be careful, because I don’t think there’s anybody in the SWF that will be there to save him if Hawke gets his hands on him again!” Jay Hawke reaches into the ring just long enough to grab his championship belt as Wildchild kneels down to check on Zyon, keeping one eye on Hawke the whole time. Hawke holds the title belt into the air to the loud boos from the crowd as he walks back to the locker room. Pete: “What a disgusting display.” King: “You really think so? I quite enjoyed that.” Pete: “Somewhere down the line, Hawke is going to have to face Wildchild for that championship. And when he does, he’ll be in for a rude awakening.” King: “If you say so.” Pete: “Let’s get out of here. See you next week on Smarkdown, everybody!”

”And remember you too can own this compilation of Ghost Machine V1.0’s best matches – this 4 minute DVD is not available in any stores but comes free with 3 gallons of gas at your nearest Speedway gas station” And after that note we return to the QWest Center smack dab in the middle of Omaha where referee Nick Soapdish is making his way to the ring in a rather “alternative” outfit “What in the world is Soapdish wearing” the Suicide King asks as he sees the catcher’s shin guards, heavy work boots, elbow pads and thick insulated gloves that Nick has on tonight. “Well what would you do if you were in a match where the mat could be covered in millions of thumbtacks King?” Pete asks. “Win the damn thing that’s what” King fires back with a grin. Soapdish enters the ring and nervously eyes the trays of thumbtacks on each side of the ring and the bags that are also filled with thumbtacks placed at various points around the ring. Funyon steps over the top rope and gives Nick a “you’re so screwed” smile as they both watch the backstage crew carry a large wooden crate down the aisle towards the ring. “That crate has the majority of the 2 million thumbtacks needed for this match and the only way to win this is to put your opponent in the box and slam the lid shut” Suicide King explains “Alright let’s get down to bid’ness!!” “Ladies and gentlemen, children of ALL ages!!” Funyon begins changing up his usual introduction a little just to keep it fresh “The following match is the 3rd match in the “Best of Five Ultraviolent matches” Series currently tied at 1 match each and it is a Sendai Thumbtack match!!” “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!” “Oh calm down King” Pete says as his co-commentator roars with anticipation. “Hey we weren’t even sure this match would happen tonight, I mean Bruce was suspended and all. But now it’s here and I’m going to enjoy every single moment of it” King fires back hinting at the trouble Bruce Blank has had with Joseph Peters and SWF sponsors. “Introducing first from Sendai Japan” Funyon starts but has to stop as the crowd begins to chant at the top of their lungs “AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!!” “The fans seem to have taken to Akira big time” King says marveling at just how stupid the crowd is “He stood up to Bruce and said “you WILL respect me” which a lot of people seem to like” Pete explains. “Respect is overrated – I mean I don’t respect you, that doesn’t make ME a bad commentator” Suicide King says getting in a verbal jab at his co-commentator. Mr. Kobe leads Akira down towards the ring as the fans chant the name of the Divine Wind. The first two matches in this very brutal series has definitely left a mark on Akira’s body as he’s taped up in several places and sporting a collection of bruises especially on his back and shoulder. “Bruce had made a huge name for himself in the Hardcore / Ultraviolent division, he’s ruled it basically – but this young kid has shown us that he can take a lot of what Bruce can dish out, you’ve got to respect that King” “No I don’t! Someone stupid enough to sign on for a best of 5 series with Bruce Blank should be ridiculed and then put in a pine box once Bruce is done punishing him” King replies “It’s good to hear you at your most unbiased tonight King” the Miami Menace says as they watch Akira slide under the bottom rope into the ring. “AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!!” Funyon raises the microphone once more to introduce Akira’s opponent. “AAAAAAAAND his opponent” then he pauses to let the people boo. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Once the booing dies down Funyon continues with his introduction “Hailing from the deepest, darkest Alabama, this is the SWF Ultraviolent champion BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!” WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! The entire arena chants in unison as Bruce steps through the curtains to the sounds of that classic “Don’t ask me no questions”. Bruce looks confident and arrogant as he walks towards the ring, tabbing his Ultraviolent title and jawing at some fans at ringside who insist that Akira will kick his ass. “It’s nice to see Bruce supporting his Alma Mata here tonight” The Suicide King says as he notices that Bruce’s sweat shirt says “Property of the Alabama State Pen” “Oh that’s funny King, tell me did he play football for them?” “No mostly just fencing” King says laughing at his own joke. When Bruce reaches the pine crate he stops, lifts the lid a little and peaks at the thumbtacks in the crate with a sadistic smile. Bruce stalls on the floor, looking at the trays of thumbtacks around the ring as Akira paces back and forth, then the young Japanese superstar turns to talk to Mr. Kobe while Bruce is still on the floor. As it turns out Bruce was just waiting for an opening as he quickly unsnaps the Ultraviolent title around his waist and rolls under the bottom rope into the ring. “PEARL HARBOUR!!” King yells out as Bruce jumps Akira from behind and knocks him into the corner “That’s kinda ironic don’t you think?” “Akira should have been on guard, he more than anyone knows just how devious Bruce can be” Longdogger adds. The sneak attack has allowed Bruce to get the upper hand right off the bat as he lets the clubbing forearm blows rain down over Akira’s neck and shoulder, driving the young man down to the ground. Then Bruce quickly switches tactics and places his boot across Akira’s throat and pushes on the ropes for added leverage. “Come on Nick step in!! He’s trying to choke him out” Pete says with more indignation than usual “He’s not TRYING to, he’s succeeding – and what can Soapdish do anyway? There are no rules, no DQ in this match, hell he doesn’t even have to count to 3 just call the winner once the lid is closed.” King admonishes Pete. After a moment Bruce steps off Akira’s windpipe and just causally walks away like he was on a leisurely Sunday stroll in the park. Of course the stroll in the park is replaced with a mugging as Bruce rushes Akira once more and kicks the Divine Wind upside the head with his cowboy boot. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Come on USA!! USA!! USA!!” Bruce yells hoping to get a chant going. … … But apparently the crowd tonight aren’t buying Bruce’s lame attempts of patriotism and instead chant something totally different. WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! For the first time tonight the chants seem to bother Bruce as he yells at fans at ringside to shut up, cursing them and flipping them off as they chant. “He needs to focus on the match Pete, Akira is back on his feet” Suicide King points out as Akira quite rightly is back on his feet. Bruce sees it out of the corners of his eyes and then rushes Akira, trying to knock him down again with a double axe handle. A double axe handle that Akira ducks under no less. After the missed double axe handle from Bruce Akira quickly turns the tables and lands a picture perfect superkick square on Bruce’s jaw. “What impact! It knocked him over the top rope” King yells as the impact does indeed flip the big man over the top rope right in front of a tray of thumbtacks. “YEAAAAAAAAAAaaa….” The crowd begins to cheer when it looks like Bruce is about to hit the tacks with full force but quickly lose their enthusiasm as Bruce manages to land on the apron instead. Not one to give up that easily Akira runs at Bruce, leaps feet first through the air to drop kick Bruce between the 2nd and 3rd rope. “NOOOOOOOOOOoo….” Bruce moves at the very last moment sending Akira through the ropes in the direction of the thumbtacks but the nimble and agile Divine Wind manages to grab hold of the top rope before it’s too late and pulls himself up on the apron. “Oh so close!” Pete says as they both watch with anticipating, wondering when the thumbtacks will come into play. “They’re right above them, one wrong move and Akira is in the tacks!” King points out “Why do you assume it’s going to be Akira?” “Just playing the odds Longdogger, just playing the odds” With both of them on the apron there isn’t much room to move, which isn’t a problem for the smaller Akira but Bruce is not able to defend himself as much as he’d like. Especially when Akira leaps up and kicks Bruce in the back of the head with a picture perfect enzugiri that knocks Bruce forward into the ropes. Simple physics then dictates that Bruce moves backwards with the snap of the ring ropes, sending him off the apron and back first into the tray of thumbtacks to a huge pop from the crowd F*CK HIM UP!! F*CK HIM UP!! F*CK HIM UP!! “That’s not nice” The Suicide King complains as the Nebraskians chant. Akira quickly leaps off the apron ready for another attack on Bruce, but much to his surprise Bruce just gets back to his feet like nothing has happened, pokes Akira in the eyes and then kicks the momentarily stunned and blinded Akira in the gut. “HOW THE HELL??” Longdogger Pete says surprised at Bruce’s total “No sell” of the thumbtacks, in fact he’s moving as if they didn’t hurt him at all. “Hey I told you Bruce was tough!” King replies. Bruce quickly brushes some of the thumbtacks stuck in his shoulder off like it was dirt and then half hip tosses, half throws Akira into the thumbtacks in such a manner that his left shoulder hits the tray before he rolls over and lands on his back away from the tray. “Oh my sweet mercy! Look at Akira’s exposed skin, he’s like a human pin cushion” Pete says as the camera zooms in on the thumbtacks embedded in Akira’s shoulder. “Should have worn appropriate clothes, not very smart is it??” King says in that arrogant condescending voice he does SO well. With the thumbtacks stuck in his skin Akira has only one thought in his head right now – get them out!! Which he tries to do by brushing over his shoulder repeatedly, each time removing some tacks but leaving tiny puncture wounds some of which begin to bleed ever so slightly. While Akira is trying to get the tacks out Bruce has found a canvas bag filled with thumbtacks and looks like he’s in heaven. But the distance from heaven to hell is only a few split seconds apart as Akira scoops up a handful of thumbtacks with his taped fists and fling them straight into Bruce’s face. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!! The tacks are more surprising than painful but it gives Akira the opening to rush Bruce and knock the big man into the guardrail with a desperation tackle. “What the hell are you doing? You could put an eye out you bastard!” yells King, indignant over the Divine Wind’s actions. “You’re talking about safety in a thumbtack match? That’s like complaining about smoke in an inferno match” Pete fires back tired of his co-commentators double standards. With Bruce pinned against the guardrail Akira quickly drives his knee into the side of Bruce’s face twice before he reaches down and starts to pull at Bruce’s sweatshirt. “What is he doing? This isn’t a bra and panties match Pete!” Akira tears and pulls at Bruce’s sweat shirt until he tears it all the way down the back to reveal that Bruce had wadding taped to his back to keep him from being hurt by the thumbtacks BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “What a dirty cheater! No wonder he could take the fall into the thumbtacks without any pain” Pete yells out in anger Now that the hoax has been revealed Akira quickly tears the wadding off Bruce’s back and throws it into the crowd to even the playing field as the fans cheer him on. Since he has Bruce down and dazed Akira leaps over the guardrail and into the crowd where he quickly grabs a chair from a fan that’s happy to hand it over. Bruce slowly staggers back to his feet as Akira readies his chair, then once Bruce is up Akira smacks the Trailerpark Messiah across the chest with the folding chair *WHACK!* …knocking Bruce backwards a few steps away from the guardrail. Akira quickly drops the chair, leaps up on the guardrail and then flies at Bruce driving both feet into Bruce’s chest with a high risk drop kick. The risk definitely pays off though as Bruce stumbles backwards and lands with his exposed skin square on the tacks with full force. “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” This time the tacks piece Bruce’s skin, this time he feels the pain of thousands of little metal points drawing tiny drops of blood. Akira grabs the hurt and dazed Bruce by the hair and then places Bruce’s head between his knees in position to either power bomb or pedigree or a move with a similar starting position right into the thumbtacks. “Can you imagine the damage it would do if Akira hit a Pedigree piledriver into the thumbtacks?” Pete asks “Yeah I bet he’d get a few thumbtacks in his knees” King replies revealing that he’s not really paying much attention to what Pete is saying right now. Akira locks his arms around Bruce’s waist and tries to lift him up, but Bruce blocks the attempt, he also blocks a second attempt and a third. Then Bruce stands up straight and shows everyone that he’s not out of the match yet by back dropping Akira sending him legs first into the tray of thumbtacks “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “See – he’d get thumbtacks in his leg, didn’t I tell you??” King gloats as Akira’s right leg is driven into the thumbtacks. With each step Bruce takes bloody thumbtacks fall off his back leaving a ghastly trail behind him as he staggers towards the far left corner of the ring and then begins to look under the apron. “What the heck? Bruce has over 2 million thumbtacks handy, what more could he need??” Pete asks as Bruce searches for something. “You can never have too many thumbtacks Pete, NEVER!” King replies. After a moment Bruce finds what he was looking for, it’s a small aerosol can that he shakes well before spraying some of it on his heavily taped left fist. “Ah what a gentleman, he noticed his fist smelled and wanted to deodorize it” King figures “Yeah right!” Bruce drops the can and then turns to one of the trays of thumbtacks where he thrusts his left fist into the pile and keeps it there for a moment. While Bruce has his fist buried in the thumbtacks one of the other cameras zoom in on the discarded spray can on the floor, the label reads “U-Stick, spray on adhesive” “Spray on Adhes… oh no!!” Longdogger Pete quickly realizes what Bruce is up to. A moment later Bruce raises his left fist into the air to show everyone the thumbtacks that are now glued to his fist. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “You know I don’t think these people appreciate the psychology of a thumbtack match” The Suicide King muses as the crowd boos Bruce’s cheating ways. “Psychology? In a Thumbtack match? You must be kidding me” Pete says forgetting that the words “Kay” and “fabe” exist for a moment. Bruce smiles deviously as he flexes his lethal fist, then he turns his attention back towards Akira who’s managed to drag himself out of the tray of thumbtacks and get back to his feet. Unfortunately for the Divine Wind he’s been so pre-occupied with the tacks in his leg that he missed Bruce’s cheating antics Which explains why he is taken by surprise when Bruce’s tack covered fist connects straight on with his jaw. HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! The fans may not like Bruce but the shock effect of the blow coupled with the instant tearing of Akira’s face and skin that sends blood flying everywhere brings the entire arena to their feet. Bruce grabs Akira by the shredded mask and pulls him into position for another blow which lands in exactly the same place as the first one, further tearing the mask and the skin on Akira’s jaw. “This is inhuman, this is insane!” Longdogger says “This is ultraviolent!! Of course it’s inhuman and insane – that’s the whole point” Suicide King points out. After the two hard blows there aren’t that many thumbtacks left on Bruce’s fist, he left some of them embedded in Akira’s jaw and the rest just scattered in on impact. Bruce casually walks back over to where the spray adhesive can is laying and picks it up, figuring to repeat his success and inflict even more damage. “I cannot believe that Akira is able to get back on his feet! I mean he’s staggering and bleeding but he’s up and determined to keep fighting” Pete says in amazement “That just means he’ll get his ass kicked even more, that’s the only thing heart and determination will get you – an asswhooping” Suicide King replies. With the spray can in hand Bruce once again sprays the adhesive all over his taped up fist and then thrusts it into the thumbtacks again all the while keeping an eye on Akira. The Divine Wind doesn’t look like he’s able to cause much trouble as he leans against the ring post and tries to shake the cobwebs. “Watch this one Pete, I’ll bet you that Akira won’t get up from this one” King says confidently as Bruce walks back towards Akira with his fist clenched. *CLANG!!* YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! Akira ducks under the fist and Bruce punches the ringpost with full force driving several of the thumbtacks into his fist. “I guess you owe me money King” Pete says with a chuckle as Bruce unintentionally hurts himself even more when he grabs his hurting left fist with his right hand and drive thumbtacks into his palm. Even with his vision blurred from the stiff shots he took moments ago Akira is able to grab on to Bruce’s left arm, flip over his back and twist Bruce down to the ground chest first in the thumbtacks while Akira wrenches back on Bruce’s potentially broken hand. HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! “I can’t believe what we’re seeing here! He’s grinding Bruce chest first into the thumbtacks while applying a Fujiwara Armbar” Pete says as he almost leaps out of his chair in surprise over the turn of events. Akira pushes down with his full weight driving Bruce’s exposed hairy chest into the tray full of thumbtacks that draws quite a lot of blood in some places. Referee Nick Soapdish can’t do anything but stand and watch as Akira inflicts a lot of damage on Bruce, twisting his arm back in a position nature did not intend for it to go – but even if Bruce was to tap out the match wouldn’t end since submissions are not legal. FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!! FUCK HIM UP!! The pain from the arm bar shoots down Bruce’s shoulder, down his back building up so much pressure that Akira is close to snapping Bruce’s arm in the process. After grinding Bruce into the thumbtacks for a while and incapacitating Bruce’s left arm Akira finally lets go of the arm and stands up. But he’s not ready to give Bruce a breather, instead he drags the redneck superstar to his knees, then he picks up another canvas sack full of thumbtacks, opens it and pulls it over Bruce’s head “Look at the thumbtacks falling out of the bag – and Bruce’s head is exposed to the entire contents of the bag” Pete says in horror. But if he thought that was horrific he was definitely mistaken as Akira follows up by superkicking the bag and any thumbtacks in it straight into Bruce’s face *POW!!* “SWEET ACE OF SPADES! Bruce took it straight to the face, he went down like it was a shotgun blast straight into his face – and with the thumbtacks in the bag the effects could be very similar.” The Suicide King yells out as the white canvas bag starts to display patches of dark red where Akira kicked it. Akira quickly pulls the canvas bag off Bruce’s head and the cameras gets a close up of the horrific effects on Bruce’s face. A number of thumbtacks are driven fully into Bruce’s face above and below the eye, some of the tacks on his forehead must be in so deep they’re actually scraping against the bone of Bruce’s skull and the ones imbedded in his cheek are all bleeding profusely from every single puncture. “Akira is one sick puppy, he pretends to be all innocent and goody, goody but look at what he did!!” King says with outrage. “Desperate measures call for desperate actions King. He needs to win this match to break Bruce’s momentum, he’s between a rock and a hard place” Pete replies pointing out the method to Akira’s madness. While Akira heads over to the crate full of thumbtacks to remove the lid we get a close-up of Bruce slowly trying to dislodge some of the thumbtacks from his face, we get to see the sickening sight of Bruce’s skin sticking to the tack for a bit, pulling outwards around the tack until it finally lets go and returns to normal. Well normal except for a puncture where blood immediately starts to run down over his skin. “Bruce looks like he’s got freckles King, big metal freckles” Pete quips trying to distract himself from the horrible images with a bit of levity. “Oh har-har – he wasn’t exactly good looking before, I doubt it’ll make much of a difference” King replies as Bruce slowly pulls another tack from his face with the same sickening effect. With Bruce on his knees, pulling thumbtacks from his face Akira drops his idea of opening the crate and comes back around the corner towards Bruce. Akira interlaces his fingers, raises his hands over his head and then brings then forward for a double axe handle blow *HOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUFFF!!* But a low blow trumps a double axe handle blow as Bruce brings his elbow up and into contact with Akira’s soft parts. A second elbow to the crown jewels brings Akira to his knees with his hands placed on a certain throbbing body part for protection. As Akira drops to the ground Bruce manages to stand back up again, he’s quite a sight with thumbtacks still embedded in his face and all over his back and blood turning half of his face into a crimson mask. “This is why he’s held the title for so long Pete, this is exactly why he’s on the verge of becoming the longest reigning Ultraviolent/Hardcore champion ever – because he can take a beating and he’s got the heart and determination of a lion.” King gushes as Bruce crawls into the driving seat of this match. “Weren’t you the man that says that the only thing heart and determination will get you is an asswhooping?? Or am I mistaken here King” Pete replies catching his co-commentator in another bald face lie. “You must have been thinking of someone else, maybe when you worked with Cyclone Comet or someone” King says dismissing the laughable notion that he would lie Bruce grabs Akira by the back of the trunks with his right hand and uses his still hurting left hand more as a guide than to throw Akira into the side of the wooden crate. Akira’s knees slam into the side of the crate and his momentum carries him over the top of the crate flopping down on the ground with the lid half way off. “Someone get a close up, get a close up of the tacks in the box” “The Jack in the box?? You pervert” King replies with a straight face. As requested one of the more intrepid camera men sneak a peak inside the box and sees that the bottom of the large box is covered with a layer o thumbtacks that appears to be 2-3 inches thick. Then the camera guy is unceremoniously pushed out of the way as Bruce makes his way past him with the lid to the box in his hands. *WHACK!!* Bruce drives the heavy lid down across Akira’s back knocking the Divine Wind to the ground. Then he raises the wood lid once more over his head and *WHACK!!* Drives the lumber down into Akira’s spine a second time before dropping the 7 foot by 3 foot lid on top of Akira. With a smirk the 295 pound heavy Bruce Blank puts a foot on the lid, then the other one and moments later he finds himself standing on top of Akira Kaibatsu and the lid as he flips off the crowd on both sides of the aisle. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “That’s gratitude for ya – Bruce says they’re “number 1” and then they boo him” King says as the crowd doesn’t take too kindly to Bruce’s double bird salute. “Why should they appreciate Bruce? He’s a no good, back stabbing bastard who hasn’t showered in close to a year” Pete says telling everyone exactly what he thinks of Bruce Blank. “So they should LOVE him here in Nebr-ass-ka, he’s one of them!” the Suicide King says with a chuckle. Bruce steps off the wood lid again but as he demonstrates when he lands a hard stomp on the lid, he’s far from done punishing Akira. Bruce hops down one side of the lid on his left foot keeping his right foot raised in the air, ready to bring it down on the lid once more stomping both it and Akira into the concrete floor. “Nebraska is under a tornado warning!!” King yells out as Bruce breaks out the “Trailerpark Tornado” from his repertoire. “You gonna make an F5 joke too?” Pete aks “Nah I don’t like Brock Lesnar” King replies. After stomping up one side and then down the other Bruce picks up the lid and then leans it against the guardrail right next to the box. If the crowd was negative before they turn downright bitchy as Bruce drags his thumb across his throat and then points to Akira WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! This time Bruce ignores the chants as he grabs Akira by the throat and the tights and raises him up in the air for a gorilla press. Bruce just smirks and then begins to pump his arms with the much lighter opponent while counting out loud himself. ONE!! TWO!! But before he gets to three his left hand gives in under the strain and he accidentally drops Akira onto his shoulder instead, kinda in the position for a running power slam. After getting his focus back Bruce a moment later Bruce runs forward with Akira Kaibatsu over his shoulder, no doubt intending to power slam him into the concrete. But!! ohmy.gif Wait! ohmy.gif Hold! ohmy.gif The! ohmy.gif Phone!! ohmy.gif ohmy.gif At the last moment Akira reveals that he’s spend the breather Bruce unintentionally gave him to regain at least some of his senses as he manages to flip himself forward over Bruce’s body holding on to Bruce’s greasy hair for a perfectly executed stunner YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! Bruce’s forward momentum added to the stunner results in Bruce slamming into the crate hitting his lower ribs on the edge of the crate. One grab of a cowboy boot later and Bruce finds himself in the box full of thumbtacks. “If he can just close the lid he’d have won it!! If he can close the lid Akira will have pulled victory from the jaws of defeat” Pete yells out, getting excited as it looks like Akira is ready to end this. Akira grabs the lid but due to the punishment he’s taken so far in the match he’s not having an easy time putting the lid on so he ends up having to slowly drag it across the box to close it. AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!! The crowd is on their feet chanting Akira’s name as he’s less than a foot away from winning the match, he just has to close the lid all the way Just 6 more inches 3 But that’s as far as he gets before a taped up hand reaches out of the crate and grabs hold of the edge of the lid. Akira shakes his head in disbelief when he sees that Bruce is not out of it yet but that he’s fighting back despite the thumbtacks lodged in his arm. Bruce’s right arm bulges as he puts all his strength into pushing the lid off, unfortunately for Akira the blood on his hands causes him to loose grip of the wood and the edge of the lid strikes him in the mid section with so much force that it knocks the wind out of him. “I can’t believe! He was thro…” Pete starts but he’s cut off by the horrific sight of Bruce Blank as he stands up, his entire back is covered with thumbtacks, looking like a cross between a pincushion and an armadillo as he steps out of the crate “It’s obvious Bruce is in a lot of pain, I mean look at him he’s got more metal in him than cruise ship” King says as Bruce leans on the edge of the crate. And to add to the horror Bruce bends over and spits out something that’s a mixture of blood and thumbtacks on the floor to the disgust of everyone. “Okay that’s too far even for me, what if he swallowed some??” King asks. “Then he’ll be a loser tomorrow morning in the bathroom no matter what happens tonight” Pete quips, using humor to mask his disgust. Bruce is in a world of hurt and doesn’t really make a move one way or the other as he leans against the edge of the crate trying to pick as many thumbtacks out of his skin as he possibly can to reduce some of the agony he’s in. Meanwhile Akira has been able to get his breath back and looks like he’s got a plan. He circles around Bruce to get the big man between himself and the wooden crate. Then he calls out to get Bruce’s attention “Don’t call attention to yourse… “ is all Pete can say before Akira leaps into the air for a drop kick. But the moment Akira leaps into the air Bruce takes 2 steps forward and end up catching Akira’s legs under his arms locking them around the Divine Wind’s lower legs. Then he lets himself fall backwards using his momentum and weight to catapult Akira up into the air over himself And flipping into the wooden crate full of thumbtacks. “OH SWEET JOHANNA!!” is all Longdogger Pete can say as they can only imagine the world of pain that Akira is in right now. Bruce crawls over on his hands and knees to where the lid is still rested against the crate and starts to slide it into position. Once he’s got it laying on top of the crate Bruce pulls himself up and slowly uses his body weight to slide the lid across the crate 1 foot away from being closed Only 6 more inches Then 3 Until *DING*DING*DING*DING* Nick Soapdish finally has something to do in the match as he calls for the bell the second the lid is closed completely. “The winner of the match – ahead two wins to one, BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!!” Even though his music begins to play and he’s announced as the winner Bruce doesn’t even move as he lays draped over the crate, breathing heavily and bleeding from an uncountable number of thumbtacks stuck in his back, face, arms and hands. “Bruce won but at what price? He is up in the series but he’s not even able to walk out of here under his own power right now” Pete says as Lockdown fades to a much needed, hopefully not that bloody and violent, commercial break.

El Luchadore Magnifico is seething. The World Champion stares after the departing back of his challenger, itching to do something, anything… but no, Magnifico tells himself, Johnson would be expecting it. Better to wait. And, incidentally, to check on the health of his bodyguard… “Well, he may not have been concerned about TORU’s welfare in the match,” Pete says pointedly, “but Magnifico certainly wants to make sure that Takahara is OK now! After all, with KOJI out TORU is our World Champion’s last line of ‘defence’ against JJ Johnson,” the Longdogger finishes, his tone making it perfectly clear both what he thinks of TORU’s abilities to deter Johnson, and Magnifico hiding behind him. “Magnifico doesn’t need any ‘defence’ against Johnson,” King scoffs, “especially not someone who’s failed to beat him twice now! Just you wait, Dogger; at the Clusterfuck, Magnifico will school Johnson!” Magnifico taps TORU smartly on the shoulder; unfortunately it is the shoulder of the arm that Johnson has nearly ripped apart, and the Japanese Hammer does not respond well. TORU reaches up with his right arm and shoves Magnifico in the gut, pushing the World Champion away with a barrage of Japanese. Magnifico looks astounded for a moment, but then his features darken and he steps back in, opening his mouth to tell TORU where to shove his Prefecture… *CHING!* …and TORU uses his good right arm to low-blow the World Champion! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Sacrilege!” King screams in outrage as Magnifico doubles over, clutching his groin as his eyes pop, but Longdogger Pete is laughing his head off. “That’s the price Magnifico pays for trying to bend the rules!” the Miami Menace chortles, until he realises that ‘chortling’ is something reserved for Cyclone Comet and so he guffaws instead, “it looks like TORU wanted Magnifico to call for the bell the moment he started tapping, so he didn’t join KOJI on the shelf! In trying to prevent Johnson from winning the match Magnifico caused greater pain for TORU, losing himself his second-and-last bodyguard!” Magnifico looks to Chris Card for some sort of assurance, but Technical Perfection’s face is twisted in disgust as he looks at the man who might well have got his one remaining client -read, meal ticket- injured, and as TORU leaves the ring (still cradling his left arm) Card doesn’t throw a further backward glance at Magnifico. “TRAITOR!” King roars as TORU, Card and Natasha walk up the entrance ramp towards the back… but no-one’s really listening to him. Everyone is focusing on Magnifico, trying to catch his breath in the middle of the ring. “JOHNSON’S GONNA KIIIIIIIILL YA…” “JOHNSON’S GONNA KIIIIIIIILL YA…” “JOHNSON’S GONNA KIIIIIIIILL YA…” FADE OUT