King Cucaracha

Okay, as you can see we're not sure on Bruce's situation and whereabouts at the moment, hence the delay. But the show is now up for you to comment on. It wouldn't be a show without a minor disaster now, would it? Happily, we had something produced for every match besides that though, so thank you all (well, almost all!) The card WILL be up later, barring another one of our minor disasters. In the meantime, read away.

I don't know why, but I'm a mark for that kinda stuff on the early Wrestlemanias. Matches like Koko/Martel at WM 6 and Tornado/Bravo at WM 7 say 'WrestleMania' almost as much as the actual main matches do. Of course that's mostly through nostalgia and if they did that nowadays it wouldn't be the same, but still.

10 Man Tag Team Match Cucaracha Internacional vs. Love Generation, Jamie O'Hara and Thunderkid

Huh? Punk/Chavo was good at best. They had some fun moments but there was no story, no real flow, it was just 'movez~!' One minute Punk was in a bodyscissors, next they looked like they were building pace to the finish, then they slowed down again all of a sudden (not just with the heel, Chavo, on offense either). Good, but no better. The SD Chamber was a mess, aside from the eliminations themselves. They showed a replay of Undertaker stomping Batista in the gut. That sums up how painfully slow it was until Finlay came in. Flair/Kennedy was better than I expected, but hardly great. Rey/Edge was what it was. Show/Mayweather was one of the best segments they've done in the year since Mania 23, granted. That was when the show picked up. The finish to Cena/Orton made sense and it arguably made Orton look better than he would have done by winning clean or cheating to win. And they couldn't blow it off at NWO, given Mania plans. It wasn't a clean finish, but it was the RIGHT finish. Aside from it explaining him being in the WrestleMania main-event, right?

Maybe I'm alone in thinking this, but Jeff's title challenge/run(?) is going to mean a lot more if it happens after WrestleMania than at WrestleMania. There's still going to be a question mark over him being a Mania headliner, no matter how hot he is right now. If they did Hardy vs. Orton as THE main-event, it'd just risk being overshadowed by Taker/Edge and a probable HHH/Flair, Show/Mayweather etc. and you'd risk a WM X8 scenario where he looks worse-off for it ala Jericho. And if it's not THE main-event, it's going to be lost in the midcard anyway, like Rey's 'big' win. Where-as if he wins Money In The Bank, you've got a fresh challenger during the traditional WM hangover period, when they're going to need one. Yeah but he only did it for his own good so it doesn't count! Plus he smiled a little, which like totally buried Hardy! Also, was it me or were they having mic problems all night? We heard Tazz and Styles over the ECW vid package and then there was so much dead air during the later matches, in particular Edge/Rey (unless they just got sick of Coach and Cole already and muted them).

(send all marked matches, promos etc to King Cucaracha) The 2008 Clusterfuck provided not one but TWO major shocks that have changed the face of the SWF completely! The fallout from the 'Fuck doubles up as the build to From The Fire, and there'll be no Valentine's love spread amongst the dateless wonders that are the SWF superstars... not with the possibility of a second new World's Champion in as many shows! Will it be a case of a Date With Destiny or a Date With Disaster in Grand Rapids? SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE Michael Alexander© vs. MANSON Michael Alexander pulled off... well, not a shock upset perhaps because the signs were definitely there, but certainly a surprising win when he dethroned Toxxic, the most dominant World Champion in the last four years. As a result the Mad Scientist of the Mat has claimed the biggest prize in the business, and what's more has become only the third wrestler to do so to have joined the fed since the SJL closed its doors for the last time back in 2004 (the second if we ignore Wes Davenport, and it's company line that we do so, even if he is clearly awesome). The first challenge for our new World Champion? Not the winner of the Clusterfuck, because El Hombre Sin Nombre gets his shot at From The Fire. No, Alexander's first obstacle to overcome is his erstwhile tag team partner, MANSON! Slaughterhouse/5 have yet to capture the tag team titles, but MANSON was on a serious roll in the latter part of last year and is undefeated since Genesis. Form of that sort demands recognition, so Commissioner Maddix booked this match. These men know each other for sure, but as partners, not opponents. It's the former New Blood champion against old blood, one of the longest-serving and cagiest veterans around. Can MANSON turn his seven year on-again, off-again stint with the company into the big singles gold? Or will Alexander cement his place at the top? Will they still be able to tag afterwards? Either way, it should be awesome! Word Limit: 6500 Rules: Standard singles Send To: Toxxic "The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs. Alan Clark The usually reliable Tom Flesher has drifted away from the fed since his failed World Title shot last year, and his failure to even manage a match with Nathaniel Kibagami before Christmas wasn't rescued by a tenacious but ultimately unsuccessful showing in the 'Fuck. Tonight he goes one-on-one with one of the more bizarre men we've had on board, as Clark can never seem to decide whether he's a fun-loving Disney employee, a country musician, a hardcore maniac or, more recently, a fun-loving-in-hardcore-matches Disney employee. Possibly listening to country music. We have two former World Champions here, people. Flesher needs a win to retain his place near the main event, Clark is back from a layoff of several months and is probably itching to prove himself again. Let battle commence. Word Limit: 4500 Rules: Standard singles Send To: King Cucaracha Special Showcase Match El Hombre Sin Nombre vs. Olaf Andersen El Hombre Sin Nombre won the Clusterfuck. Not only did he win it, but he won it in his first ever appearance for the company! Now he has to show that he's more than a fluke win from a Va'aiga lariat, and he needs to go through Olaf Andersen to do it! The Four Norsemen seemed to take exception to the luchadore after his big win, so can he get revenge? Word Limit: 3000 Rules: Standard singles Send To: King Cucaracha Scott Pretzler vs. Dance Dance Dragon Dance Dance Dragon came so close, SO close to defeating Wildchild for the Cruiserweight Title at the Clusterfuck, but he fell short when Wildchild had his scouting scouted (if you get what I mean). Now he needs to take on Scott Pretzler, who came back with a bang but has since slightly faded into the background. Will Triple D dance to victory over the Critic, or will Pretzler score a big win which would be sure to launch him back up the card and towards stardom? Word Limit: 5000 Rules: Standard singles Send To: Toxxic Hardcore Rulez Match Insane Luchador vs. Taiga Star Do you need an description? Insane Luchador IS hardcore, he's so hardcore he's not Mexican, was never masked and doesn't use an 'e' on the end of his name. Plus he bleeds and comes back for more, and can make an offensive weapon out of items that would make even the A-Team draw a blank. Taiga Star is a short, dumpy girl who likes to hit people with foreign objects and is out to show that this is a woman's business as much as it is a man's business! Go fight, people. Word Limit: 4000 Rules: Hardcore Rules! Send To: King Cucaracha Annie Eclectic vs. Johnny Dangerous Yes, you read that right, Annie Eclectic is back. YES, ANNIE IS BACK. Back from the wilderness, back from Japan, back from wherever it is she's been, the self-professed Hardcore Queen is still here, still gay (no-one's seen Chris Wilson recently, right?) and still out to kick ass. Johnny Dangerous is in freefall down the card and needs to start putting in performances before he ends up carrying the Four Norsemen's bags. The Barracuda has a chance to spoil Annie's 4567th comeback, but can he take it? Or will Annie dispatch him and then head onwards and upwards? Word Limit: 4000 Rules: Standard singles Send To: JHawk IN THE HOUSE OF MARVELLOUS The new, 100% shocking, Clusterfuck winning #1 Contender El Hombre Sin Nombre will be in The House Of Marvellous, to announce his choice of stipulation for his World Title Match at From The Fire! The Fabulous Jakey vs. Orden Noash Jakey's another face who's been lacking a little lately. Orden Noash is looking for a win in his first match with the company. Hopefully, one of these two will pull it out and do themselves a favour. Noash might seem to have the advantage, but in the fight of the unusual names it's worth bearing in mind that Jakey is far harder to beat than his diminutive size might suggest. Word Limit: 3000 Rules: Standard singles Send To: Toxxic

As we return to HeldDOWN~!, "Medal" is playing in the background as the one and only AngleSault stands in the ring. ANGLESAULT Okay, thank you for that warm, [i]Canadian[/i] welcome. A mixed reaction goes up for America's favourite hero (give or take), drawing a grin from AS. ANGLESAULT Now we've still got some great action to come here tonight and I don't want to waste too much of your time. But the past few weeks have thrown up a situation that I need to tend to. As soon as possible. With that in mind, I want to bring to the ring now the former World Champion, "The Franchise", ladies and gentlemen ZACK MALIBU! "Getting Away With Murder" blares out through the arena as Zack steps out in his street gear and a fancy new Zack Malibu t-shirt, available now at OAOAST.com! Despite not looking in the best of moods Zack still finds it within him to slap some hands on his way to the ring. Zack opts for a more formal handshake with AS though as he takes a mic. "ZACK!" "ZACK!" "ZACK!" "ZACK!" ANGLESAULT And, I'd also like to bring out one other man, "The Meterosexual Monster"... BOHEMOTH! *BbwWbAhmotherfuckerLlIiiBbbEErRrAATtTeeyYyOUUurRrMmmMmMiIInNnDddDd!!* "YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Looking a little surprised at this development, Zack gives AngleSault a disapproving look as the always pimping Bohemoth heads out, in customary style with a crisp black suit. Bo ignores the hands as he stares down into the ring as Zack. And it all threatens to break down as Zack walks over to the ropes to say something, only to be ushered back by AngleSault. COLE The OAOAST President is putting himself into the breach here tonight. Between Zack Malibu and Bohemoth, who were uncontrollable two weeks ago to the point that Bohemoth was banned from the arena last week to prevent a repeat. COACH If they come over here again, he'll be hearing from my attorneys. Hazardous work conditions. Bo climbs into the ring and AngleSault is again called into action, stepping between Zack and Bo as they threaten to go nose to nose, at best! ANGLESAULT ENOUGH! ENOUGH! The two begrudgingly back up a little. ANGLESAULT We're not going down that road again. Not tonight. We're going to settle this amicably, whether you two like it or not, because the last thing I need is two of my top stars tearing each other apart every week and causing chaos everywhere they go. So settle down... please. Now, it seems like this whole 'friendly rivalry' thing you two have going has crossed the line. You two have lost your heads. And it's over this. Play the footage. [QUOTE=LETHAL RUMBLE MATCH, ANGLEPALOOZA 2008] Scooping up Zack, Bohemoth goes for a Spinebuster, but finds himself trapped in a front guillotine choke and unable to drop The Franchise. Zack wraps the body-scissors on and tries to choke Bo out, the two bypassed by Alfdogg who targets PRL in the corner and tries to dump him out to collect himself a cool million! COACH Yes, if anyone's gonna collect the bounty, it's gotta be Alf! He did it before and he's going to do it again. Let's face it, the bounty Stephen Joseph put up shits all over the 100,000 Alf picked up two years ago. COLE And if Alf does eliminate PRL, it certainly won't be for Popick's benefit. PRL hangs on, as Bohemoth begins to fade in the middle of the ring. Realising he's going out, Bohemoth makes a charge forward and runs Zack into the one neutral corner in the ring sending his lower back hard into the top turnbuckle. Zack refuses to relinquish the front chancre though. Bohemoth staggers away, already feeling the effects of entering at number 5, even without this chokehold. He turns and runs forward again, this time into a NON neutral corner. Vitamin X gets sandwiched in the corner and goes down, but Zack still hangs onto the choke and Bohemoth is fading fast. "BO!" "BO!" "BO!" "BO!" Just as he starts to sink forward though, Bohemoth gets a surge of energy and with a low roar he muscles Zack back up before charging again... ...dumping Zack over the ropes!! Zack realises he's in trouble and hangs on for grim life, bringing Bohemoth over with him by the neck... COACH Look out! ...AND THEY BOTH CRASH TO THE ARENA FLOOR!!!!! COLE I don't believe it... they're BOTH gone! Zack and Bohemoth are OUT! A loud groan goes up through the Philips Arena, two of the favourites both in chances and crowd support eliminated in one split second. Hitting the floor with a thud, the two untangle themselves and pull themselves back up as referees come across to point them to the back. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"[/QUOTE] Back to live in the arena and that footage has done nothing to improve the mood, as Zack and Bo exchange words over what they just saw. ANGLESAULT Okay, settle down. Look at yourselves would you? What's all this sour grapes about? Are you two really stooping to THAT level, huh? SULKING over not winning the Rumble? ZACK Hey, I can't speak for anyone else, but I've got nothing to sulk about. If you roll that video on, you'll see me getting SHOVED in the chest after we hit the floor, so maybe you'd better ask the guy doing the shoving what his problem is? If anyone's tasting sour grapes around here it seems like the guy who couldn't keep his balance and saw his clumsy ass fall over the top. Marching across the ring, Bohemoth grabs AngleSault's microphone. BOHEMOTH You know Zack I think that footage speaks for itself. If anyone's a sore loser around here it's you! "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!" ZACK Is that so? Is that so? BOHEMOTH Yeah it is so and you damn well know it Malibu! Everybody just saw it. I HAD you, okay? I picked you up and I threw you over those ropes, you were history! I eliminated you from the Lethal Rumble. But you couldn't HANDLE IT! You knew there was no chance of you surviving from that point but you still clung onto my neck all the same and you brought me over the top, because once you realised it was over for Zack Malibu, you couldn't HANDLE the thought that I'd go one better than you, maybe even win the Rumble! You figured that if you were going down, you'd take me with you! You couldn't ACCEPT the fact that our friendly competi... ZACK If you didn't want the competition coming into it, you wouldn't have tried to dump me out earlier on! You got that footage 'Sault? ANGLESAULT As a matter of fact we do. Rolling his eyes, Bo glances up at the screen... [QUOTE=LETHAL RUMBLE MATCH, ANGLEPALOOZA 2008] Losing the facelock Cone drops Zack, who lands in front of him but tastes another elbow. Grabbing onto the top rope, Cone then jumps up... ...but gets dropkicked in mid-air, propelling him backwards to the arena floor, hard! COLE And there goes The Lunar Pheonix... As Cone hits the floor, Bohemoth suddenly sneaks up behind Zack and throws him out... ...NO! Zack barely hangs onto the top rope and skins the cat back inside!! COLE Zack almost followed him too. [/QUOTE] ZACK They say 'Let he is without sin cast the first stone'. You were all ready to sneak up behind me and pitch me out of the Rumble earlier! So don't go playing the innocence card. All I did was do everything in my power to stay in the Lethal Rumble, no more or no less than you. And if anyone is unable to handle anything, it's you. You cast the first stone, so to speak, when you SHOVED me in the chest. Friendly competition? My ASS! ANGLESAULT You know what, this is getting us nowhere. Having grabbed another microphone, AS tries to play mediator yet again before Bohemoth can move in on Zack. ANGLESAULT We can stand here all day and play the blame game. And we all know where it's gonna end up. Let's cut to the chase. (points at Zack) You're pissed because you're not going to AngleMania. (points at Bo) You're pissed because you're not going to AngleMania. So since you're both free on March 30th, how about you both go to AngleMania... and go one on one! "YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" COLE WOAH! The fans love that one... and so do I! ANGLESAULT You two can settle your differences there and then. Are we agreed? With a smile, Zack nods his head... and Bohemoth does the same, dropping the microphone and walking off with a hint of a smile himself. ANGLESAULT Then it's settled! Zack Malibu versus Bohemoth, one on one at AngleMania in Los Angeles! "Medal" hits again as Zack shakes hands with the boss again. COLE A huge announcement for AngleMania, in 44 days! Zack, Bohemoth, first time ever!

I like Layla. She's still incredibly green, obviously, but she always puts a lot of energy and effort into everything (even during that stupid Diva Battle Royal last Summer, when she was going after people with some sort of inflatable like she was in a deadly knife-fight or something) and she seems like one of the girls who's going to make a real effort to improve in-ring. She doesn't neccessarily look like someone 'trying to wrestle' like most new divas. She shouldn't cut a promo any time soon though. Not until she's sorted her accent out. Half British, half American twang = not good.

The cameras pan back to the ring as the announcers begin to talk up the main event of the evening. Around the ring area, signs proclaim that “Toxxic was robbed!” and “El Hombre = next champion!” One lonely prophet’s scrawled posterboard begs “SAVE_US, MANSON!” while another aspiring Igor’s sign sports the rushed etching “THEY CALLED ME MAD!” “Well, folks, the time has come for our main event of the evening,” Mak Francis says. “King, you’ve got to be torn about this.” “Torn?! As if the ocean is kind of wet, or the desert chafes a bit!” The Suicide King huffs in dismay. “This is unheard of! Michael Alexander is right about this being some sort of conspiracy!” “Does that mean you’re on Alexander’s side for this one?” “What? No, Francis, as much as I enjoy Michael’s ring work and attitude, you can’t expect me to ignore our savior for such mundane reasons. MANSON’s will be done…” “Oh, not this again,” moans Mak, rubbing his head. Referee Matthew Kivell is in the ring, checking the ropes and turnbuckles as Funyon ambles into the ring for his last round of introductions for the evening. The big man bawls, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is our MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING…! It is one fall for the SWF World…Heavyweight…Championship…!” Funyon turns to face the ramp as he draws in a deep breath. “First, the challenger…from Denver, Colorado…weighing in at 229 pounds…the Savage Messiah…MAAAAAAAAAAAAAANSON!” The house lights drop and after a brief pause, a low, guttural growl kicks 'Scientific Remote Viewing' by Cephalic Carnage into gear. The crowd rises to their feet, strobes pulse and spotlights roam the arena, while smoke pours out over the stage. A moment later the shrouded Manson walks out amidst the chaos, jeers and taunts from the stands heralding his arrival, as he makes his way down the ramp. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He approaches the ring, sliding inside and popping up onto his feet. He brushes off his hood and removes his metal mask almost immediately, then disrobes and drapes everything out over the post. Turning back toward the ring, he leans against the turnbuckle, waiting for the start of the match. “It appears that Manson is ready to go tonight, King. This is his first world title match in quite a while and he looks like he’s ready to make the most of it.” “MANSON always makes the most of everything, Francis. I truly hate this for Michael Alexander, though. Who would ever want their first title defense to be against Him?” King motions reverently to the brooding figure in the ring. “Well, Alexander has good reason to be worried,” Mak agrees. “MANSON has been on a singles roll since coming back following the…er…change of command.” “Since the hostile takeover, you mean,” King growls. “Dread Rock” by Paul Oakenfold begins to play, and the a video montage of Alexander’s previous in-ring exploits interspersed with Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” highlighting the areas that the various moves depicted injure on his opponents. The lights in the arena flicker in time with the Smarktron. Funyon announces, “And the SWF World Heavyweight Champion…hailing from Greenville, South Carolina…weighing in at 221 pounds…the Mad Scientist of the Mat…MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL AAAAAAAAAAAALEXAAAAAAAAANDER!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Alexander steps out onto the stage, and the flicker lighting stops dead. He gazes out over the crowd, smirks, and makes his way to the ring, trash-talking to the crowd. The SWF World Title belt is strapped around his waist. He rolls into the ring, taking up a position in his corner. He glares over at Manson, nodding gravely. As the Steel God returns the glare, Alexander pats his championship belt before removing it and handing it to the referee. “Alexander seems to be concerned, but certainly not intimidated,” Mak notes. “Francis, the initial awe of Manson’s presence just hasn’t sunk in yet. Just wait for it.” King seems to be basking, if a seated man can be said to bask. “Whatever, King,” Mak demurs. “These last time these two were in the ring was as tag partners…how is that relationship going to play out here I wonder? Alexander seemed to show respect for Manson, which is something he doesn’t generally do for anyone. And Manson seems a bit more reserved as well.” “Mutual respect is all. And maybe some awe and reverence. This will be a learning experience for Alexander; I’m sure that MANSON will be merciful in His wrath.” Manson and Alexander eye each other warily as Matthew Kivell calls for the bell… DING! DING! Michael Alexander and Manson close and lock up in a collar-and-elbow. Not one to waste time in asserting himself, Manson bulls Alexander into a corner with naked force. Referee Kivell tries to force a break, but the Savage Messiah just reaches over Kivell to crack Alexander squarely in the jaw with a sucker punch. He follows that up with a knee to the midsection that folds the Mad Scientist up like an overextended accordion. “Manson’s starting out as we might expect,” Mak laments. “Please, Francis, you know that He is not constrained by your simple morality,” King admonishes. Manson then snapmares his stunned opponent down into a seated position and delivers a cowboy kick directly to the base of Alexander’s spine! The fans, not sure whether to cheer for the injury of Alexander or to boo the successful offense of Manson. Manson being…well, MANSON, the crowd’s reaction shouldn’t be all that surprising… “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “That was a vicious cowboy kick,” Mak observes. “Michael Alexander can’t let Manson stay on this kind of roll.” “As good as Michael is, he’s not in a position to ‘let’ MANSON do anything, Francis.” Michael rolls away, his back arching in pain. The God Machine hoists Alexander back to his feet roughly, and whips the Evil Genius into the ropes. Manson charges at the rebounding Alexander, whipping a boot up for a Yakuza kick, but Alexander does a quick duck-and-roll and bounces off the opposite ropes to leap at Manson, connecting with a flying forearm right in the mush! The audience, now having committed themselves, dutifully respond. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Seems like Michael Alexander put himself in a position to let Manson collide with his forearm there, King.” “A bump in the road, nothing more, Francis. One good shot doesn’t win a war.” “That depends on who the shot hits, King.” The Evil Genius rolls back up to his feet; Manson is a little slower and has only gotten up to one knee when Alexander cracks him in the face with a lightning-quick knee lift. The Steel God collapses back down to the mat and Alexander grabs Manson’s right leg and twists it over his own leg in a stepover toehold position, then drops down to drive his knee into the side of Manson’s, forcing a very painful and unnatural position on the leg of the God Machine. Manson snarls in pain as Alexander twists the pinioned leg into a more acute (or obtuse, depending on your relative position) angle. However, a quick rake of the eyes by the Savage Messiah breaks the hold, earning a completely ignored rebuke from Kivell. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Alexander was going into classic form, there. And MANSON, in classic form as well, went to the eyes to break things up,” Mak shakes his head. “Mere mortal eyes are not meant to behold His presence, Francis.” “Ugh,” Mak groans. Michael Alexander rolls away, rubbing his eyes for a moment. Manson gets to his feet and heads after his opponent. Alexander’s eyes clear just in time to see his predicament as he is hoisted up and planted firmly by Manson’s sitout spinebuster! “Manson just hit with the Rocky Mountain High!” Mak yelps. “MANSON’s will be done,” King pronounces solemnly. The Steel God holds the Mad Scientist down for the pin. Kivell springs down for the count… ONE…! NO! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Alexander’s out in one! What do you have to say to that, King?” “You can’t teach a good lesson quickly, Francis. And MANSON is always teaching us all.” Alexander rolls out of Manson’s grip, trying to scramble to his feet while refilling his lungs after the impact. Manson growls at Kivell and goes after his prey once more. This time Alexander is ready for him, though, and clips the Savage Messiah with a drop toe hold. Manson falls to the mat, and Alexander immediately floats over into a side headlock. With a snarl, Manson forces his way back to his feet, with Alexander clinging to the side headlock. The God Machine then flings Alexander off and into the ropes, leaping up to catch Alexander with a high knee to the face! The Evil Genius hits the mat hard and Manson leaps onto him, raining down punches on Alexander. This time it’s the Evil Genius’ turn to go the eyes, and the God Machine is temporarily blinded, giving Alexander chance to scramble away once more. “Sacrilege!” King squeals. “How dare he copy the gesture of MANSON?!” “Well, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, eh, King?” King grumbles under his breath. The Mad Scientist makes his way to the corner, pulling himself up while trying to shake the cobwebs out of his head and the ringing out of his ears. Manson, meanwhile, has recovered and barrels into the corner, unloading a series of knife-edge chops to the chest of Alexander. The Evil Genius manages to break things up with a quick knee to the gut, and he follows that with a spinning back elbow to the jaw, sending the Steel God staggering away from the corner. “Manson came roaring in and unloaded with those chops, but Alexander managed to stem the tide once again, this time without going to the eyes, thankfully,” Mak adds wryly. “Good to hear that you understand the sacrilege inherent in such a thing, Francis.” Trying to stay on the attack, Alexander charges at Manson, only to be caught by the veteran in an modified Greco-roman upper body clutch and tossed over in a Gargoyle suplex! The rookie crashes to the mat and Manson rises once more to continue his onslaught. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Manson with a Gargoyle Suplex! It’s back-and-forth in this match, King!” “Michael,” King pleads sanctimoniously. “You’ve got to realize you’re only prolonging the inevitable…” Manson reaches down to haul his opponent back up for more punishment. To his surprise, Alexander snaps up to grab him and pull him down into a small package! Matthew Kivell gives the count! “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” ONE…! TWO…! NO! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “A two count! He nearly caught Manson like he did Toxxic, King!” “Oh, please, Francis. MANSON can’t be held down with so base a move.” The Savage Messiah kicks out with a snarl. Alexander tries to get to his feet, but Manson is on him, pummeling him with rights and lefts. The Mad Scientist staggers back into the corner, with Manson not letting up. The Steel God finally connects with a stiff European uppercut which causes Alexander to collapse to a seated position. Manson then rebounds off the opposite ropes and charges back at his seated opponent, smashing his boot across Alexander’s face in a brutal facewash! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Brainwash by Manson…he’s staying focused on Alexander now. Michael had better break this momentum,” Mak warns. “Francis, Francis, you might as well ask Michael to stop an avalanche. He’s an incredible wrestler, but it’s simply a matter of scale.” Michael Alexander slumps the rest of the way down to the mat as Manson pulls back to survey his handiwork. The God Machine drags Alexander up and pulls his head back, then drives him back down to the mat with a brutal backhand chop! Manson then hits the ropes again, coming back to drop a flashing elbow…but Alexander rolls out of the way! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Maybe you can’t stop an avalanche, King,” Mak replies, “but you can get out of the way.” “Prolonging the inevitable, Francis. That’s all.” Michael rolls back to the ropes and uses them to pull himself upright. Manson charges again, and this time Alexander takes him down with a dropkick to his right knee! The God Machine drops with a groan, and Alexander goes onto the attack, even though he seems to be still reeling a bit from the pounding he’s taken. In classic form, Michael begins stomping his way up Manson’s weakened leg, from ankle to hip. “Now Michael Alexander is getting back into his game,” Mak observes. “Manson can’t afford to let Alexander set him up for that submission of his.” “Submission is something that MANSON receives, Francis, not something that He gives.” Alexander grabs Manson’s ankle, trying for another leg lock, but Manson uses his other leg to kick the Mad Scientist off him, sending Alexander staggering away, just far enough to let Manson growl his way back up. The Evil Genius comes right back at him, though, and Manson uses raw strength to shove him away as he tries to go for a takedown. Changing tactics, Alexander whips a sharp kick into the side of Manson’s right knee. Predictably, it buckles, causing the Savage Messiah to drop to one knee…which Alexander uses as a stepping stone to deliver his shining heel-kick enzuigiri! Manson collapses to the mat with a grunt and the crowd pops! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Manson managed a brief resurgence there, but Alexander just shut it down with that Shining Wheel Kick Enzuigiri!” “The calm before the storm, Francis, the eye of the hurricane…just wait.” King growls petulantly. Getting back to his feet, Michael Alexander leaps up and drops a crushing knee drop onto the back of Manson’s neck. He rolls the God Machine over and goes for another pin, hooking the leg! Kivell drops for the count! ONE…! NO! This time Manson kicks out with authority, tossing his rookie opponent off like an errant pillow. “WOW! Manson just tossed Alexander like a rag doll! Michael looks a little shocked.” “Well, he should be awed by MANSON’s power and glory. Remember, Francis, this is a question of scale…avalanche…wrestler.” King makes semi-helpful motions with his hands, as if talking to a child. Mak Francis responds predictably. “OW!” King yelps. Shaking off his shock, Alexander stalks up behind the rising Messiah, threading his arms underneath Manson’s, clasping in the full nelson, and before Manson can shrug him off, bridging backwards to haul the God Machine into a dragon suplex! Manson crashes to the mat with a surprised grunt. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” However, before Alexander can capitalize further, Manson rolls under the bottom rope and outside the ring. Leaning on the guardrail, the Steel God tries to regain his composure. His breathing seems exaggerated, as though he’s trying to hyperventilate, to slow himself down. Matthew Kivell starts to count: One… Two… Three… “Well, apparently Michael hasn’t grasped your scale idea, King, but Manson seems to have decided to give him some time to think about it as he’s bailed out.” “Look, Francis, when you’re omniscient like MANSON, sometimes you have to take a moment to focus. There’s a lot going on in the world that MANSON has to deal with. Michael Alexander is lucky He hasn’t focused His attention fully yet. But that will change, I’m sure.” Michael Alexander glares at Manson for a moment, then bounces off the opposite ropes and charges toward Manson’s location, springing over the tope rope in a suicide plancha! Unfortunately for the Evil Genius, Manson braces himself against the guardrail and catches Alexander, holding him in a lateral press position. Manson then snarls furiously as he hurtles his sometime partner headfirst into the nearby ringpost! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Like I was saying, Francis, it was all a matter of focus. A fly can sting an elephant all day long, until the elephant notices it. Then…SWAT!” “Whatever, King. Michael hit that post headfirst…that’s not good.” Four… Five… Six… The Mad Scientist slumps to the ground, slipping down the post. As he rolls away it becomes evident that the impact has busted him open; blood leaks lazily from a cut on his forehead. Manson stares at his fallen opponent, and his eyes visibly dilate. A maniacal glee rushes across his features for a moment, then is pushed aside. He stomps over to Alexander and lifts him back up, shoving him back into the ring. “Michael is bleeding now. I hate it for him, but there’s only so much sacrilege MANSON was going to take,” King pronounces sadly. “King, did you see that look on Manson’s face? It looked like we were about to see some of the old Manson come out…a little scary.” “What do you mean, Francis? There is only one MANSON, and He is…” “Oh, shut up, King.” Seven… Eight… Manson climbs back into the ring and immediately covers Alexander where he lies. Kivell drops for the count… ONE…! TWO…! NO! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “I can’t believe it! Alexander managed to kick out at two!” Mak says hoarsely. “After seeing that impact with the post, I was sure he was out on his feet.” “Michael’s just subjecting himself to more punishment; he needs to just accept the outcome.” Michael kicks out at two, and Manson growls at Kivell, the look on his face causing the referee to shrink back. The Steel God gets back to his feet and drives a vicious kick into the ribs of his opponent as he struggles up to his knees. Alexander curls around the kick, trying to absorb the force and roll away. Manson is having none of it, though. He grabs Alexander by the hair, hauling him back to his feet and pulling him into a fireman’s carry. With a wordless snarl, Manson hoists his opponent up and drops him across his knees in brutal double-knee gutbuster. The air audibly exits Michael Alexander’s lungs and he flops to the mat. Seeing another chance for the win, Manson hooks Alexander’s leg and goes for the pin. Matthew Kivell is in position… ONE…! TWO…! THREE… Manson looks up to see what is holding up the final slap of the mat, and see Kivell looking at Michael Alexander’s other foot draped over the bottom rope. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “I thought it was over after that gutbuster, but Alexander still managed to, perhaps on sheer instinct, get that foot onto the rope to break the count.” Mak says. “Well, Michael has the instincts of a great wrestler, there’s no doubt about it. But you don’t wrestle MANSON, Francis, you SURVIVE him.” “That may be where we are, King,” Mak replies sadly. Slapping the mat in frustration, Manson hauls his opponent back up and tosses him into the corner, peppering him with kesagiri chops. As Kivell yells at him to get out of the corner, Manson glares the referee out of his way as he drags the Mad Scientist out in a headlock, then begins raking the area of the cut with his other hand. Alexander howls in pain and Manson finally drags him over to the ropes, dragging the bleeding head of his opponent across the steel cable. Kivell gives him a five count to break it, which Manson finally does at four. “Manson’s just trying to inflict pain now; there’s no point to this. You waste time like this with Michael Alexander at your peril.” Mak furrows his brow in consternation. “Part of teaching your worshippers is using pain. MANSON is simply fulfilling His Divine Purpose.” Michael Alexander pulls away trying to protect his bleeding forehead with his hands and to wipe the now freely-flowing blood from his eyes. The Savage Messiah stalks over to snatch his opponent into front facelock position, throwing Alexander’s other arm over his shoulder and hooking Alexander’s leg. Manson then hoists Alexander up into a fisherman’s suplex position before spinning him around and dropping him onto his head and neck in a fisherman’s buster! Manson rolls over onto Alexander and goes for the pin again, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “The Rocky Mountain Hydro Grind! He has passed His Judgment on Michael Alexander!” King booms reverently. ONE…! TWO…! THREE… NO! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Wha?” King grunts in disbelief. “Looks like Alexander is tougher than anyone gave him credit for, King. I wouldn’t have thought he would be able to kick out of that.” Alexander wrenches a shoulder up just in time. Manson looks disbelieving, then furious as Matthew Kivell holds up two fingers! That wild look that was earlier suppressed returns and takes deep root in the face of the God Machine. Manson turns back to Michael Alexander and savagely bites his bleeding forehead! Alexander howls in pain and Kivell counts up to four before Manson breaks away from his opponent’s bloody wound. Kivell starts to admonish Manson, then backs away quickly from the mad look in the Coloradan’s eyes. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Good Lord! He’s BITING him!” Mak barks in disgust. “This was coming, Francis. There’s only so much defiance a Diving Being like MANSON will stand before he begins to dispense punishment.” “He’s BITING him, King! That’s not divine, you weirdo, it’s just savage and sick!” Manson chases the referee across the ring before turning back to Alexander. The Evil Genius has managed to claw his way up to his feet, using the ropes for support. As Manson stalks over, Alexander springs back to desperate life, firing off a series of forearms into Manson’s head. The Steel God drives a sharp knee into Alexander’s gut to stem the tide of forearm shots. He then whips Alexander bodily over the top rope. The Evil Genius holds on the rope, however, and snaps another forearm shot into Manson’s face as he turns around. Manson staggers away from the ropes, surprised more than stunned by the shot, and Alexander leaps up onto the top rope and hurtles himself at Manson, connecting with a springboard calf kick that sends the Savage Messiah to the mat! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!” “Alexander comes back with a springboard calf kick! I never thought I’d see that! Michael Alexander is surprising everyone tonight, including Manson!” Mak shouts. “He’s only making this harder on himself, Francis.” Alexander staggers back up, still obviously wobbly, and heads for Manson, who is getting back to his feet. The Mad Scientist fires off a series of rights, trying to do some damage, but Manson puts the breaks to this with a spinning back fist that staggers Alexander, sending him stumbling away. The Steel God then grabs Alexander by the hair, dragging him into an inverted face lock. A look of mad glee on his face, Manson lifts his opponent into position for the inverted brainbuster that has brought the Savage Messiah so many victories…but Alexander is not going gentle into that good night, as he kicks his legs desperately, managing to tip the scales just enough to slip out of the danger zone and drop behind the surprised God Machine. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Manson went for Instant Hell Murder, but Alexander squirmed out of it!” Mak yells. “And now it looks like Alexander’s in position to go for the Event Horizon!” “Yea, though I walk through the Shadow of Death…” King prays desperately. The Evil Genius then grabs his opponent and lifts him into position for a spinning Blue Thunder bomb…but Manson takes a quick and dirty way out, raking the injured forehead of Alexander, allowing him to drop back down to his feet. He fires a sharp elbow into the side of Alexander’s head for good measure, then snakes his arms around Michael’s near shoulder and arm, hoisting the Mad Scientist up and planting him soundly with an Uranage suplex! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Manson again was able to capitalize on Alexander’s injury to escape, and he just flattened Michael with that Uranage!” Mak shades his face from the glare of the lights for a moment as he stares at the ring. “What’s he doing now?” “He’s ascending,” King whispers in awe. The look of wild fury on his face again, Manson rises and stomps over to the nearest corner. He climbs the ropes to the top turnbuckle and slides his elbow pad down to expose the point of his elbow. The Steel God glares out at the howling fans for a moment…a moment too long, as Michael Alexander desperately meets him in the corner, driving a forearm shot into the side of Manson’s right leg! The leg doesn’t buckle, but it does slide precipitously off the top rope, causing Manson to be crotched violently on the top turnbuckle! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Manson took too long; he let himself get distracted, and Michael Alexander was able to surprise him again, King!” Mak, by instinct, winces. King winces as well. “That,” King grimaces, “is not going to be good for Michael Alexander when MANSON pronounces His Final Judgment.” Manson’s mouth gapes open in gasping agony. Michael Alexander ascends the ropes himself, underhooking both of Manson’s arms and pulling the Savage Messiah up from his painful perch. “No…he’s not going to…” Mak trails off. “Not going to what? Oh…Oh, no!” King’s voice pitches high. With a madly frantic surge of strength, Michael Alexander hauls Manson into a super tiger driver! Both men crash to mat, and as they lie there, the Evil Genius manages to drape one of his arms across Manson’s chest! “The DELENDA EST!” Mak gasps. “I’d heard about him using that once before, but…” “M-M-MANSON?” King whines. ONE…! TWO…! THREE…! Matthew Kivell holds up three fingers and calls for the bell! DING! DING! DING! Michael Alexander manages to sit up just enough to have his arm raised by Matthew Kivell as Funyon bawls out, “Here is your winner…and STILL SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALEXAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDER!” “My God, he won it! Michael Alexander managed to take out MANSON! I was surprised by his victory at Clusterfuck, but MANSON was on a roll…” Mak trails off. “MANSON must have some higher purpose,” King pipes up frantically. “Yes, that’s it. This is all part of His Plan. I have faith, O MANSON!” “Well, folks,” Mak adds, “that’s our main event from Grand Rapids! An amazing ending to an amazing night! And I can assure you, based on the looks we’re seeing between these two, this issue is not settled by a long shot…Good night, fans, and we’ll see you all again at From the Fire!” Manson raises his head slowly after the announcement. He and Alexander stare into each other’s eyes. Michael’s face covered in his blood, the same blood that has soaked into the tape on Manson’s hands and can be seen speckling his face where he had earlier bitten into Alexander’s forehead. The cameras focus on their stares as we… FADE OUT.

0=========================0 *Moments before the show is about to begin* Principal Jefe enters El Hombre Sin Nombre’s dressing room, it’s dark, making him fumble around for the light switch "You in here kid?" he asks in vain. When he finds the light switch and flicks it, he sees El Hombre sitting on the bench with his head buried in his hands. "The show is about to begin, come on you’ve got a big night ahead of you" At first El Hombre doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, he hardly even breathes. "Something wrong?" El Jefe asks. "I’m in trouble" El Hombre starts out, El Jefe doesn’t say anything he just waits and lets El Hombre speak in his own time. "I mean I’ve only been here a short time and everyone I’ve run into has wanted to beat me up or actually HAVE beat me up" El Hombre jumps to his feet and starts to nervously pace as he mumbles to himself. "I don’t remember winning the Cluster fuck... all four Norsemen want to beat me up... Manson or Michael Alexander, what a choice... and I hear that Va’aiga still wants to kick my ass for what happened at the PPV" he says, rambling on until Principal Jefe steps in front of him to get his attention. "Son don’t you know what you’ve done?" "Yeah I’ve landed in a heap of trouble" El Hombre replies "That’s not what I meant. I meant do you really truly know what you’ve done? On the grand scale of things?" El Hombre doesn’t answer "You’ve done something NO ONE else has ever done kid, you’ve shot straight to the main event, in one night you’ve done something not even Santo, Blue Demon or Mill Mascaras has done, heck kid you’ve outshined Mistico and El Luchador Magnifico’s rookie effort already" "Santo? Magnifico?" El Hombre had not though of that "You’ve done something NONE of them have done. You’ve done something no SWF "Rookie sensation" has ever done, Toxxic didn’t do it, Michael Alexander sure didn’t do it" El Hombre looks shocked, well as shocked as you can in a mask. "You’re not suggesting that I’m better than Toxxic or Alexander?" asks incredulously. "I’m suggesting that your starting point is better than theirs was, they have more experience and seasoning but if you compare your first match to either of theirs… you’re doing pretty damn good kid" "I guess, I still don’t know what to do" "About what?" El Jefe asks. "I have to go out and pick a match, Principal what should I pick? I mean Strap matches and Cages and … *shudders* so much worse has been picked over the years, how can I pick something that’s to my advantage?" El Hombre asks. "Remember that you ARE a rookie but also remember WHAT you are" "A rookie?" "Yes but what else?" Principal Jefe replies "I dunno" "When you do, you’ll know what the stipulation will be." El Hombre sighs, Principal Jefe was no help… or was he? "I almost forgot! I came to tell you the good news" Principal Jefe says remembering why he came looking for El Hombre in the first place. "What good news?" "I’ve talked to the Lucha Libre council and they’ve agreed that since you’ve been so successful they’re waiving the 5 wins rule." "What?" "If you win the world title at From the Fire you will also earn your mask, you’ll be a true Luchador!" El Jefe says with pride, no one else has ever received such a waiver from the Lucha Libre laws. "You’re kidding? If I… then I earn my Mascara?" "Yes" El Jefe says and nods. "El Jefe… I know what to pick, I know what match I want" El Hombre says with budding confidence. "I thought so, you better get ready" El Jefe says before turning to leave. *Fade*

The lights go out, and the following echoes from the loudspeakers... "Please Stand Clear of the...." the voice fades, and red, white, and gold spotlights flicker and flash around the arena slowly as "To Die For" thumps to life. The SmarkTron flashes shots of Alan Clark's steady career climb - flashing all of his various championship wins before finally showing a live shot of the stage as a spotlight hits the ramp to show Alan Clark emerging from the darkness with Walter Reynolds in tow. “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Coming to the ring at this time...representing Walt Disney World and being accompanied by Walter Reynolds... ALAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAARK!!” “Get out the popcorn,” says the Suicide King, as Alan slowly walks to ring. “This match is going to be a hell of a fight, because there are going to be consequences no matter what. On the one hand, you've got Tom Flesher, who's been in a slump ever since leaving the commissioner's office and coming back to the ring. Sure, he beat Johnny Dangerous, but who hasn't? He didn't even show up against Kibagami, and he still can't beat Toxxic. On the other, you have Alan Clark, a former World Champion himself, who's been off for quite some time. Both of these guys need a win to stay where they are, and the right performance tonight is sure to catapult one guy up to the top and send the other one packing.” Clark stops and looks out at the crowd before climbing the steps and stepping through the ropes. With the music at full bore, Alan jumps up in a corner and poses, looking down on the crowd. After a moment, his music fades, and the lights go down. “And his opponent....” Percussive drums begin to rock the arena, and after a moment, a wailing harmonica heralds the entrance of the Superior One. Led Zeppelin's “When the Levee Breaks” rings out as Flesher bounces up and down, shakes out his arms, and then begins his stroll to the ring. “Accompanied by Allison Onita, hailing from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in tonight at 231 pounds... THE SUPERIOR ONE, TOM FLESHER!!!!!” Flesher sheds his warmup suit and slides into the ring. There, he submits to the usual cursory examination for foreign objects, trash-talking Clark all the while. Finally, when the official is done, both men meet in the center of the ring. DING DING DING!!!! Flesher and Clark circle around in the center of the ring, each man knowing the other can end the match with a single blow. Clark stays on the defensive for the moment, trying to avoid Flesher's notorious early-match pounding and make it to a point where he can take advantage of the Superior One's inferior conditioning and ring rust. Tom lowers his level, reaches out and taps Clark's knee. When Alan sprawls back, overcompensating to avoid the takedown, Flesher withdraws, and Clark manages to grab his head. He pulls Tom into a front facelock, and Tom immediately reacts by pulling backwards. As he does, Clark shoves him backwards into the corner, then quickly backs away when the referee orders him to break. “There you see the Disney-sponsored Alan Clark,” says Suicide King, “following all of the referee's instructions immediately. You have to admire that kind of foolishness.” Flesher charges out of the corner, trying to take control of the match pace. Unfortunately, Plan A doesn't quite work, as he charges right into an arm drag, and finds himself on his back on the mat. Clark's contingent applauds as Flesher rolls through, then runs at Clark again, only to be taken to the mat with another arm drag! Flustered, Flesher tries to roll out of the ring, but Clark keeps his hold on the arm and pulls him back to the center of the ring. He pivots, twisting Flesher's arm in its socket, and then breaks the hold to throw a kick to the breadbasket! Flesher, aware, catches Clark's leg and smirks... only to be driven into the corner by an enzuigiri! Flesher hits chest first and staggers backward. He spins around, disoriented. He takes one step... and then another... and then flops flat on his face. Inexplicably, the crowd goes wild. “I'll never quite understand that,” murmurs Francis, as Flesher uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. Clark charges at him, trying to capitalize on his disoriented state, but Flesher ducks down and avoids the clothesline. Alan Clark bounces off the ropes and rebounds, only to have Flesher drop down and shoot a lightning-fast single leg takedown! Clark spills to the mat as Flesher rolls across his shoulders, still holding on to Clark's ankle, and then comes back to his feet. With a speed that can only be attributed to a veteran's awareness and a practiced touch, Flesher stands up straight and threads Clark's leg behind his neck, contorting him with Johnny Dangerous's over-the-shoulder half crab! Clark's face shows an expression of shock, but only for a split second before it turns into a mask of pain! “BARRACUDA!” bellows King. “Flesher has Clark in the Barracuda, just like he used it to beat out Johnny Dangerous last month! Out of nowhere! Single leg takedown, roll through, BARRACUDA! INCREDIBLE!” Clark looks around. He can't reach the ropes with his left arm, nor with his right. Sensing that his return might be short-lived... TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP!!!!!! DING DING!!!! Immediately, the referee grabs Flesher and peels his hand off Clark's ankle. He pushes Flesher back, forcing him to release the hold before he can do any lasting damage, and Alan Clark rolls out of the ring, shaking out his limbs to make sure he's still properly aligned. “The winner of the match,” says Funyon, “by submission... TOM FLESHER!” “Alan Clark does the smart thing tonight,” says Mak Francis. “This is his first match back after a long layoff, and he got caught in a move that Tom Flesher's obviously been fine-tuning over the past several weeks. Instead of trying to fight his way out of it, Alan Clark survives to fight another day, one loss smarter and with his whole body working properly.” Flesher continues celebrating in the ring as Allison Onita joins him. Meanwhile, Walter Reynolds attends to Alan, trying to help him collect himself outside the ring. “Tom Flesher nets a surprise victory,” says the Suicide King. “You can't take anything away from Alan Clark, but tonight, Tom Flesher was just a little bit better, just a little bit more prepared, and a lot better off at the end of the day. Tom gets the check in the win column tonight, and Alan Clark comes out having learned one more lesson... former world champion or not, on any given night you can still end up the loser.”

????EL NOMBRE IN ACTION????

As the choral opening to "Force Ten" by Rush soars over the speaker system, a red light flashes in the entryway, growing in frequency, until the guitar kicks in and Pretzler emerges onto the stage. "Tough times demand tough talk demand tough hearts demand tough songs demand..." He stops and places his hands on his hips as he stares down smugly at the audience, their boos like music to his ears. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way to the ring... from Toronto, Ontario, weighing two hundred thirty-two pounds... "THE CRITIC"... SCOTT... PPRRRRRREEEEEETTZZZZLLLLEEEEEEEERRRRRRR!!!!" "We can rise and fall like empires Flow in and out like the tide Be vain and smart, humble and dumb We can hit and miss like pride... just like pride." Taking his time, Pretzler strolls down the ramp, his welcome back pops and cheers from a couple of months ago having peetered out now and the majority booing him like old times. "I have to wonder what The Critic will make of the Dance Dance Dragon, King." "Two words; It Stinks!" Pretzler climbs the steps and enters the ring with a flourish. The audience continues to boo as he paces around the ring, going through some technical based warm-ups which are lost on most of the supposedly 'smart' crowd. "Look in To the eye of the storm Look out For the force without form Look around At the sight and the sound Look in look out look around..." "Well Pretzler to take on Dance Dance Dragon, two men who came up just short of their goals at Clusterfuck. Pretzler failed to win the 'Fuck itself and Dragon was unable to win the Cruiserweight Title from Wildchild. So points to be proven and spots up the card, or down as the case may be, to be moved." "Pretzler's glad to be back, I spoke to him in the week." says King. "But as much as he's glad to just be able to lace his boots again, he didn't return just to say he did. He returned for glory. For the World Title. A win tonight and it'll be a step in the right direction." A DDR stage hollogram shines down in front of the entrance way and for a while, all is quiet inside the arena. The intro to "Hung Up" by Madonna plays, with the crowd gradually beginning to clap along as they wait patiently for the next match. "Boy, this is a really long intro, huh?" yawns King. Eventually, The Dance Dance Dragon calmly walks out. And stops, waiting until the song picks up pace, multi-coloured strobes go freakoutapalooza through the rest of the arena and 'Triple D' starts to bust a freakin' move, people! A couple of scantily clad dancers run out behind the masked man and dance to the sides of him, applauding DDD's 'l33t' DDR skills as he 'pwns' the holographic dancepad underneath his feet. "And the opponent. Hailing from Heaven's Dancefloor... he weighs in tonight at two hundred and nineteen pounds! This is THE DANCE... DANCE... DDRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR - AAAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!" "YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Dragon and his Dance Dance Dragonettes (still a work in progress) continue to dance their way to the ring, to the delight of the fans and the bemusement of Mr. Pretzler. "The phrase 'two contrasting styles', rarely as appro-po as it will be in this one." predicts Mak. Looking on unimpressed, Pretzler watches Dragon somersault into the ring and break into an array of his flashiest dance moves and wonders if all his years of rehab were worth it. The fans seem to be enjoying it though and Dragon nails the splits to show his appreciation for their appreciation. Off comes the jacket as the ladies are sadly done for the night. "Okay, now that that's out of the way..." *DINGDINGDING!* Dragon immediately starts to lead the crowd in some clapping, to Pretzler's disgust. "Yeah, this is the kinda crap we've had to put up with without you Scott." scowls King. "Welcome back, buddy." Dancing along to the sound of his own creation, Triple D jigs out of the corner. Pretzler shakes his head sadly as he locks up, coming out seconds later with the arm wrung and the wrist locked. Sweeping the legs, Pretzler applies a top wristlock against the mat on Dragon, forcing both the shoulder down... ONE! TWO! Bridge! A quick kick at the leg breaks it though... ONE! TWO! Another bridge! Pretzler kicks away the base again... ONE! TWO! Dragon kicks out and quickly rolls backwards, coming up to his feet with the pressure reversed and a chance to wring out Pretzler's arm! Looking understandably surprised, down to a knee goes Pretzler as Dragon bars up the arm. "Pretzler finding out firsthand that Dance Dance Dragon is about more than just the dancing and the mask and all that comes with it. He can go in that ring too." points out Mak. Having gotten over the surprise at being out-wrestled, even for just a second, Pretzler gets back to business and looks for an escape route. Sliding his leg in behind Dragon's he pushes forward, tripping up the masked man and causing him to lose control of the arm. Pretzler quickly pins down a leg, twisting the foot up on the other and putting pressure on the toes and ankle. With a growl in pain Dragon tries to free his other foot... and does, prompting Pretzler to change his grip and look to turn into a half crab. Wanting no part of that, DDD shuffles back and grabs the ropes to force a break. Unimpressed, The Critic waits until four to let Dragon go and even then it's with a petulant shove away of the leg. "Do you get the feeling Pretzler isn't too happy to be here, King?" "Well aside from the obvious answer of 'we're in Grand Rapids so yes', of course he's not. He's out here trying to wrestle, something which he hasn't been able to do for the past two years. And he's having to do it against some wackjob in a mask, 'the little guy that could go in that ring', who's taking cheap ropebreaks." Dragon gets his bearings back, or more accurately his groove back before feeling his way into a knucklelock with Pretzler. He barely gets the fingers laced before a boot slams into his midsection however! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Throwing the hands down, Pretzler quickly grabs a front headlock and sinks to a knee to apply pressure. Dragon squirms from side to side which forces Pretzler to keep re-adjusting though, unable to get Dragon where he actually wants him. "Pretzler seems to be complaining that he can't get the hold on properly because of the mask." Mak interprets. "Which is unfair if you ask me." "If it's accurate, maybe." Dragon eventually pushes up to his feet and has Pretzler further struggling. Reaching in low, Dragon lifts Pretzler up off his feet, trying to carry him over to the corner but forced to drop him short. Pretzler keeps a hold on the head and sets Dragon up for a suplex. He gets him up okay, but loses his grip in mid-move, allowing Dragon to float over the back and land safely on his feet. With a quick shove in the back to make space Dragon runs the ropes, Pretzler turning around and throwing a frustrated looking clothesline which the Japanese cruiserweight ducks under. Hitting the far ropes, Dragon then catches Pretzler turning and clotheslining again, leading with his feet with a Front Dropkick! Pretzler gets caught in the chest and lurches to the canvas, Dragon on top for the cover... ONE! TWO! No! "Pretzler's frustrated here and I can't blame him!" complains King. "How can you allow ring attire that prevents wrestlers from... well, from wrestling? They don't let you grease your legs in UFC for that very reason." "Yeah but nobody cares about UFC." Leading Pretzler up by the arm, Dragon connects with an elbow strike. And a second. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" Followed up by a knifedge to the chest. With Pretzler stinging from those shots Dragon then loads Pretzler up, sending him off the ropes. An early duck of the head proves costly for Dragon however. Pretzler puts on the brakes, jamming the point of his elbow into the back of the neck! As Dragon recoils from that, Pretzler then hooks up the arms in a double underhook and with a pop of the hips he executes a Butterfly Suplex. "That's more like it." smiles King. "Now you watch, next show Dragon'll be out here with giant shoulder pads so people can't suplex him like that anymore." "That'd actually be pretty smart." "You're not supposed to encourage cheating, idiot! That's my job!" The pace has slowed to Pretzler's ideal speed; methodical. After a few seconds to collect himself, Pretzler rolls over and re-applies the double underhook on the now seated Dragon. Forcibly pulling Dragon to his feet, Pretzler sets and hits a second Butterfly Suplex. This time though he hangs on, manoeuvering DDD into a seated position again and clamping up on a seated butterfly lock! "And now Pretzler begins to sow the seeds for the Snowflake Clutch." Shaking his head in refusal to give up just yet, Dragon struggles to get out from the seated position. Wrenching up on the arms, the head is also forced forward by Pretzler leaving Dragon's airway restricted. Dragon realises he's in trouble and makes another effort, this time getting his feet underneath him and climbing upright. Pretzler hangs onto the double underhook still. And even when Dragon reaches his feet, he can't do much but drive forward. Putting a stop to that, Pretzler cracks DDD in the side of the head with a knee! And a second! Pretzler then relinquishes the arms, hitting a quick back suplex and covering... ONE! TWO! No! Stalking over Dragon, Pretzler paintbrushes the front of the mask with his boot daring him to get up. "Blatant disrespect right there." Mak sighs. "What else does someone who brings crap like Dance Dance Revolution into this great sport expect? Hell, Dragon should have asked his buddy Ced what'd happen, stepping in there with Scott." "At least he shook Ced's hand." With Dragon not responding Pretzler takes matters into his own hands and drags him up by the mask. Holding the tassels, he cracks Dragon with a European uppercut! "Ooh, right to the chest." "Yeah, because that ridiculous mask protects his jaw too!" King now realises. Away into the ropes reels Dragon, hung over the middle. Following him in Pretzler presses a knee into the chest, pulling up on the ropes as he forces forward into the sternum with the patella. Referee Sexton Hardcastle forces a break on 4, Pretzler only too happy to oblige now he's done his damage. Pretzler now peels Dragon off the ropes and whips him across the ring, catching him on the rebound with a beautiful standing dropkick worthy of the ~! on his tights. After a moment to soak in the afterglow, Pretzler then looks for the pin... ONE! TWO! Kickout! "Come on referee, up that workrate!" King snaps. Pretzler drags Dragon up, again by the mask. Hardcastle gets on his case but Pretzler curtly reminds him that this isn't lucha-libre so there's nothing he can about it. A snapmare takes Dragon over, setting him for a hard knee driven into the spine. Dragon rolls away before Scott can contemplate the Snowflake Clutch though. "DRA - GON!" "DRA - GON!" "DRA - GON!" "DRA - GON!" Brushing off the chants, Pretzler follows Dragon into a corner. A boot is waiting for him, closely followed by an elbow strike. But Pretzler cuts off the comeback cold with a knee to the breadbasket. Pretzler then pulls Dragon out of the corner, hooking him up for a Brainbu... NO, Dragon goes deadweight and refuses to go up! "It takes two to tango and Dance Dance Dragon isn't in the mood for dancing!" Pretzler tries again, deep hook of the bodysuit... but still no joy. "You're horrible sometimes Mak, you know that?" Giving up on the 'Buster, Pretzler lets DDD go and clubs him in the back of the neck. Two, three times he lands. Pretzler grabs the arm and tries for an irish whip... but Dragon twists and comes out in front... catching an attempted boot and sending The Critic sprawling with a Dragon Screw! "YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Pretzler rolls right through with the momentum and to his feet. One a little more steady than the other, but he charges all the same. Dragon sees him coming just in time to sidestep however, guiding Pretzler past him... *CLUNK!* "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" ...AND SHOULDER FIRST INTO THE RINGPOST!! "Oh no!" "That's the injured shoulder!" shouts out Mak. "A terrible break for Pretzler... hopefully not literally." "A terrible break? That was deliberate Mak, Dragon meant that, I can assure you!" Shouting out in agony Pretzler sits holding his shoulder as referee Hardcastle move Dragon back. The masked man certainly seems apologetic from what we can see of him, backing away as Hardcastle checks if Pretzler can continue. He seems to be okay to do so, slowly uses the ropes to help himself back to his feet. "Pretzler of course tore that rotator cuff over two years ago and has only recently returned to action in the past couple of months, after complications with his surgery and rehabilitation. The first time that arm has been really tested since then and hopefully that's nothing serious." Dragon moves in once Pretzler has made it clear he's okay to carry on and he walks into a boot from The Critic. He throws a punch with the right arm and immediately regrets it. That allows Dragon to attack the legs with a couple of kicks. To the left side and the right he goes, weakening Pretzler's base before a front dropkick sends Pretzler sprawling out through the ropes and to the floor, landing on his feet but not getting much reprieve from that. Stepping through the ropes himself, Dragon kicks back at Pretzler. And with Pretzler hurt, up goes Dragon, springing back off the middle rope with an ASAI MOONSAULT!!!! "YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" "The Dragon takes flight!" "And right down on Pretzler's shoulder again. You know what, maybe we shouldn't judge the book by the cover on this guy. All the fun and dancing, it's a cover for him being a downright cheat." Back inside Pretzler is thrown, still noticeably nursing his arm as Dragon follows in after him. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" A chop by Dragon. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" And a second. With Pretzler hurting, Dragon then scoops and slams his opponent right in the centre of the ring. Off the ropes comes The Masked Dance Assassin, slowing down on his return and dusting off the shoulders... before driving his arm down across Pretzler's chest, 'Lariating' him against the canvas! "What in all hell was that?" "A little Strong Style Shuffle action, King!" Leg hooked by Dragon... ONE! TWO! NO! Dragon holds his head, shocked that wasn't it. "This is an important match for Dragon. He needs big wins to have any hope of getting back in the Cruiserweight Title hunt, after that loss to Wildchild at the Clusterfuck!" "This'd be a big win, no doubt about that." Dragon brings Pretzler back up and signals that it's over, as he positions him up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. The Canadian proves tough to muscle around though. And he cuts at Dragon's neck with elbows, trying to avoid whatever Triple D has in mind. At the fifth elbow Dragon is forced to drop his man. And Pretzler takes immediate advantage, hooking him up with a quick BRAINBUSTER to drive Dragon into the canvas!! "OOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!" However, Pretzler is unable to capitalise with a cover, having used the sore right arm to execute the move and suffering for it. "You can't underestimate what this means to Pretzler either though." King points out. Able to block out the pain for long enough, over rolls Pretzler to cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!! The Critic is forced to block out the pain again as he sets Dragon up again, looking to finish him off with perhaps another Brainbuster. Wise to that is Dragon, fighting his way out of the weak facelock and turning back to belly with Pretzler. Reaching back, he hooks Pretzler's head and leaps off the mat, looking to float over the back with the Dance Dance DDT... ...making it over the top, but without the DDT as Pretzler helps him over with a push in the rear. Saving himself from landing face-first, Dragon goes for a full nelson. Pretzler escapes that comfortably though and goes behind for the Crossface Chickenwing! "Going for the submission... but how long can the shoulder hold out on Pretzler?" Not too long it would seem as Dragon is able to avoid being clamped fully into the hold, hitting the mat and bringing Pretzler over with a shoulder-wrenching armdrag! Slow to his feet, Pretzler then eats PALM~! from the charging Dragon! ONE! TWO! NO! Not crying over spilt milk, Dragon brings Pretzler right back up and shoves him into a corner, leading in after him with a right hand. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...chop. And a right hand. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...chop. Right hand. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" Chop, Right hand. "The Violence Party has come to Grand Rapids!" With Pretzler seeing stars, Dragon snapmares him out of the corner... *SMACK!* ...and imprints into the kidneys with a Dragon kick! The Masked Dance Assassin then grabs onto the top rope and waits on Pretzler to get back up. Pulling himself up, The Critic looks pissed at being kicked in the back, as you would, ready to dish out a receipt. Before he can do so though, Dragon has vaulted up to the top rope and soars back with a Moonsault Press... ...NARROWLY avoided by Pretzler! "Good quick thinking by Pretzler, Dragon has finished people off with that one." notes Mak. Dragon manages to cushion his landing somewhat, but not enough to prevent being caught by a knee to the face by Pretzler on his way back up. Rolling Triple D through to his feet, Pretzler slaps at his shoulder to try and get some feeling back into it, before he hooks up Dragon for The Tildebang... ...NO! Pretzler gets Dragon halfway up and no more! As he lets Dragon go, Pretzler gets caught with a boot, thrown upwards from his back by DDD. Dragon then rolls backwards, coming to his feet right in front of Pretzler and quickly hooking the head, keeping the backward momentum going with the DANCE DANCE DDT!!! "The shoulder gave out and the bottom just dropped out on Pretzler for good measure!" "All because of that DELIBERATE posting!" King howls. Not done just yet, Dragon drags Pretzler around into position by the turnbuckles before heading up top. Little signs are life are shown by the Canadian as Dragon scales the ropes, reaching the top floor and pointing down at the facedown Critic... ...BEFORE LEAPING DOWN RIGHT ONTO HIS HEAD!!!! "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" "DOUBLE STOMP TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!!" Pretzler is limp as he's flipped over and cradled up... ONE! TWO! THREE!!!!! *DINGDINGDING!* "And The Critic has been silenced!" It's dancing time again as "Hung Up" hits, Dragon feeling the beat while Pretzler is just feeling beaten. Referee Hardcastle checks on the Canadian's condition as Dragon pulls himself up and finds enough energy in his locker to treat the Grand Rapids fans to some patented dance moves. "Here is your winner... THE DANCE! DANCE! DDRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOOONN!!!" "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Dragon leaves the fans wanting more like any good entertainer, leaving a very relieved man/beast/thing, with an important victory under his belt. "You have to call that a bit of an upset in my book. Infact, 2008 is already becoming the Year Of The Upset by the looks of it. Dance Dance Dragon picking up a big win that'll do his hopes of another round with the Wildchild a power of good. Dare I say it, a mean-streak, a killer instinct shown by The Dance Dance Dragon!" "A sadistic, uncondoneable streak!" scowls King. "He took advantage of that serious shoulder injury and could have put Scott Pretzler back on the shelf. And then he dances. Ugh!" "Well, Dragon comes away with the win whatever your thoughts. A big confidence booster tonight and we hope nothing serious has come of that collision with the post from Scott." "We do. I bet Dragon doesn't." "Save it King."

Back in his office, Landon kicks back having gotten back from his watch position out in the arena. "Wow, a woman beating a man... not once, but twice. Who'd have thought it?" "Women athletes are as close to their male counterparts as they've ever been." Megan Skye points out as she walks in. "It was only a matter of time before some of them surpassed the men, especially those who are ignorant to change." "Uh, yeah, I'll take a decaf latté to go please." Megan does a double-take. "You know what Landon, maybe it's time to pull the trigger. Not that it'd make life any easier around here, but she'd certainly shake things up that's for sure. The budget can just about cover it... plus she's guaranteed publicity... hmm, something to think about." Landon smiles to himself, getting a sudden jolt as Megan steps in front of the desk with arms folded. "Oh hi, when did you get here Megs?" "I'm sorry?" "Nevermind. Listen, I've been thinking and I've come up with an idea. Sit down and I'll talk you through it in a minute." Doing just that, Megan waits patiently as Landon sits back and doesn't utter a word, literally twiddling his thumbs. "Uh, Landon? Problem?" "No no, it's just I sent some chick to get me a latté about 20 seconds ago and I don't want her to walk in on anything confidential." Landon explains, confirming that he is at this moment oblivious to the entire world around him. "You just can't get the staff around here nowadays." "No..." agrees Megan. "No, you can't..."

Funyon - Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one-fall, and is a no count-out, no disqualifications, falls count anywhere Hardcore Match! The crowd pops at the announcement. Funyon - Introducing first, weighing in at one hundred and "none of your damn business" pounds and hailing from Helltown, Haverhill Massachusetts... Taiga Star!! Be a Man hits, and the crowd cheers. A generic ultraviolet Princess of Hardcore graphic appears on the screen and Taiga Star comes out. She appears to be in a good mood, smiling and slapping hands of the fans. she rolls in under the bottom rope, jumps to her feet, and poses for a moment in the centre of the ring with her hands in the air. Funyon - Her opponent, weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds and hailing from Easton, Pennsylvania... the Insane Luchador!! Man in the Box begins playing as red and black pyros go off. The crowd cheers loudly as Insane Luchador appears from the lingering smoke. He throws his arms in the air with enthusiasm then sprints down to the ring, also slapping the fan's hands. He slides into the ring. Referee Eddy Long calls for the bell. DING!! Insane Luchador and Taiga Star begin the match by staring each other down. After a few long moments, Taiga smacks Insane Luchador across the face. The Ill One smiles wide. Suicide King - Taiga doesn't know this, but that's the kind of thing that Insane Luchador likes. Insane Luchador smacks Taiga across the face in response. Taiga smiles. Mak Francis - Uh-oh King, it appears that he may have met his match! They stare each other down some more. Taiga smacks Insane Luchador again, and Insane Luchador smacks her in return. Taiga smacks him back harder. Insane Luchador clocks her in the jaw. Taiga stumbles, just a bit, before rearing back and nailing him in the jaw with a left handed punch. Insane Luchador wobbles, his legs going loose under him, bringing him down to Taiga's level. With one hand behind his head, she pounds his face with forearms, causing him to fall to his knees. Taiga runs, bounces off the ropes, planning to dropkick Insane Luchador... ...But The Ill One rolls out of the way and springs to his feet. Taiga bounces off the opposite ropes. Insane Luchador attempts a clothesline and Taiga just runs right under it. Again Taiga bounces off the ropes, gaining momentum. Insane Luchador tries another clothesline, but Taiga ducks under this one too. Taiga against the ropes again, and on the return she spears Insane Luchador full force! They both roll and spring up to their feet and stare each other down some more. The crowd cheers a bit. Mak Francis - It's hard to tell what's going through the minds of these two competitors here. They both claim to wrestle in the strong style hardcore way. Suicide King - And they're both crazy. Look at them, they're doing that crazy person telekinetic communication. After staring each other down for an uncomfortable amount of time, they both turn around and get out of the ring; Taiga by rolling out under the bottom rope, Insane Luchador by hopping over the top rope. Insane Luchador lifts the ring apron and begins rummaging under the ring. He throws a few chairs into the ring and drags out a table, which he sets up on the outside. Meanwhile, Taiga is emptying out the contents of her shopping cart; things like mops, mop handles, an industrial sized aluminum cookie sheet, a big box of tacks. The Ill One rolls back into the ring with a chair, at the same time Taiga rolls in with the big cookie sheet. Suicide King - They seem to have similar ideas here. They swing at each other with their respective objects, both ducking out of the way and missing simultaneously. They do this a few times until the time Taiga ducks and rolls out under Insane Luchador's legs. She springs up and swings the cookie sheet at his hand! He let go with that hand, shaking it out, and Taiga bangs his other hand! Insane Luchador drops the chair, rubbing the feeling back into his hands. Taiga takes a huge swing and bends the cookie sheet over Insane Luchador's head. And again. And again! A trickle of blood runs down Insane Luchador's forehead. Mak Francis - That's not what a cookie sheet should be shaped like. Suicide King - Well, they're not made for beating people up with. Insane Luchador is down to his knees. Taiga again runs off the ropes for a drop kick, and lands it this time, right in the side of the face, knocking him to the mat! Taiga hooks the legs for a pin. ONE! TWO!! Insane Luchador kicks out. Taiga gets up and stomps Insane Luchador in the head a few times. She grabs a mop handle and hits him in the back with it a few times. Then she goes for a knee, cracking the mop handle over the joint, causing Insane Luchador to clutch it in pain. Taiga grabs that leg and starts working on it; she picks him up by the ankle and rams his knee into the mat, she stomps the knee a few times, she pulls the leg and snaps it with a knee-d-t. She ties up the legs for a surfboard stretch, but before she has a chance to really wrench it in, Insane Luchador manages to get his hands on a mop and awkwardly swings it behind him, not as much hitting Taiga on the head with it as much as getting the smelly, damp, noodle-like strands of cotton in her face. Taiga lets go so she can wipe her face, which she does on Referee Eddy Long's shirt. Eddy swats her away, then smells his shirt and makes a disgusted face. Taiga tells the ref that there wasn't anywhere else to wipe her face. While Taiga and the ref are 'arguing', Insane Luchador manages to stand up, highly favoring the leg. Taiga turns around and Insane Luchador is standing there with a mop handle in his hands. He swings and lands a shot perfectly in the center of her head. Taiga wobbles on her legs. Insane Luchador swings again, hitting her on the forehead. Taiga falls to the mat. He goes to work on her back, hitting her with the handle over and over again. When he has enough, he goes for the pin. ONE! TWO!! Taiga kicks out. The Ill One grabs a chair and unfolds it. Then he goes back to where Taiga is rolling about, and picks her up by the hair. He goes to whip her off the ropes to attempt to drop toe hold her onto the chair... but Taiga instead kicks him in the knee again. He falls to the mat, grabbing his knee and crying out. Taiga moves the chair to the other side of the ring. The she goes to pick up... the box of tacks! The crowd pops as she opens the box and lets a silver waterfall of tacks spill to the mat. Insane Luchador is still clutching his knee. She walks up to him and tries to kick him in the head, but he ducks and grabs her leg, tripping her down to the mat. Both wrestlers make it to their knees. Insane Luchador with a stiff headbutt! Taiga returns the favor. Back and forth they go with the headbutts, as the crowd cheers them on! Mak francis - They're going to knock each other unconscious! Suicide King - It's not like they're going to give each other brain damage. They both get to their feet as they are headbutting each other. Taiga struggles to suplex Insane Luchador into the tacks. The move gets reversed several times before Insane Luchador, with a front Russian leg sweep, sends Taiga face first into the tacks (even though this also sends The Ill One into some)!!! Taiga rolls over and there are several tacks stuck in her head, blood pouring out. Insane Luchador also has a few tacks stuck in him, he doesn't seem to notice them. He pulls Taiga standing and attempts to throw Taiga into the chair. They fight back and forth, blocking suplexes and reversing several times. Taiga eventually manages to get The Ill One up, then she drops him knee first onto the seat of the chair, causing more damage to the knee. She uses the opportunity to lock on a Texas cloverleaf... but Insane Luchador is close enough to wiggle over to the bottom rope. Knowing that there are no rope breaks in a hardcore match, he uses the rope to wiggle himself further out of Taiga's grasp... if Taiga only would let go. They both fall out of the ring and hit the floor. Taiga walks off, looking frustrated. Mak francis - There goes Taiga up the ramp. Suicide King - Isn't it convenient that Insane Luchador landed next to that shopping cart that Taiga bought into the ring? Mak Francis - I hope that he isn't thinking about using that on her! Suicide King - I hope he is. Taiga is still walking up the ramp. Insane Luchador uses the cart to stand himself up. Then he aims it and runs it full force up the ramp, limping some, where Taiga doesn't see it until the last second!! She doubles over and falls head-first into the cart, her legs kicking in the air. Insane Luchador pushes the cart further up the ramp with Taiga inside. With a full head of steam, he pushes the cart, slamming it on one of the support beams for the Smarktron!! BOOM!!! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! The Smarktron shakes a bit. The front end of the cart is bent from where it met the pole. Taiga falls out of the cart, not moving. Insane Luchador smiles widely, raising his hands in the air and taking in the atmosphere. He gets some cheers and some boos. Mak francis - Taiga Star is not moving! I think The Ill One may have seriously injured her here. Look at him up there, smiling proudly! Suicide King - He needs to stop playing to the crowd and pin her already! Casually Insane Luchador makes his way over to Taiga's lifeless corpse. He lays over her in a lazy cover. ONE! TWO!! THR.... NO!! Taiga kicks out! Suicide King - How did she do that? Mak Francis - She's a tough lady, King, and i'm sure Insane Luchador is putting that to the test now. Insane Luchador kicks Taiga in the back, effectively rolling her back over to the ramp. Taiga is gasping for air, groaning and clutching her head in pain. Insane Luchador continues to shove her to the ramp, then backs off a little. Taiga struggles to make it to her knees. The Ill One helps her along a bit by pulling her up by her hair. Once standing, he pulls her down the ramp a few paces. Taiga screams at him, attempting to kick and punch at him... but he was holding her at arm's length and Taiga couldn't reach him. Mak Francis - Again, Taiga's height comes into play. Suicide King - You mean lack of height? Taiga Star is a midget! Look at her swinging away at him! Insane Luchador tucks Taiga's head under his arm and nails her with a DDT! Taiga lands on the top of her head, legs going straight up in the air. After she immediately curls up in the fetal position, barely having the energy to scream. Mak Francis - That move can break a neck! Insane Luchador rolls around on the ramp a bit as well, grabbing at his knee and groaning. He stands up and looks like he's about to pin her, but instead he picks Taiga up by the hair again, sets her up, and nails her into the ramp with another DDT!! Taiga lays out prone and lifeless on the ramp, The Ill One is rolling around and clutching his knee again. After a few long moments, he covers Taiga. ONE! TWO!! Suicide King - She's not gonna be able to kick ou... THR...NO!! Taiga kicks out!!! Mak Francis - Taiga Star still has some life left in her! Suicide King - It was only because Insane Luchador didn't hook the leg. Both wrestlers lay on the ramp, rolling around a little, both trying to get back up. Insane Luchador is first to his feet, albeit he's a bit wobbly. Taiga struggles to her hands and knees. Insane Luchador with a stiff forearm to the back, knocking her down again. She struggles up and The Ill One stomps her in the back. He stands up over her, smacks her in the back of the head, and applies a rear naked choke! Mak Francis - That's a smart move, wearing her down like that. Suicide King - It's a hardcore match, he needs to be hitting her foreign objects, not locking on submission holds! Referee Eddy Long asks Taiga if she wants to give up, and she replies by cussing at him. She screams out, a strangled sound escaping her throat. Insane Luchador cranks it in harder. The ref asks her if she wants to give up. "No!" she squeaks out. The Ill One lets her go. Taiga grabs her throat and coughs, kicking her legs. She curls up into a little ball, and Insane Luchador kicks her in the head. Insane Luchador grabs her by the arm and pulls her up to standing. He walks her to the ring (dragging her practically). He sets up to whip Taiga into the apron, but she reverses, sending him into the side of the ring, the middle of his back connecting with the hard steel edge!!! Both Taiga and Insane Luchador lay on the floor, catching their winds. Several long moments pass. The crowd claps rhythmically, encouraging the opponents on. Neither person moves. Mak Francis - With this being a hardcore rules match, there is no countout. Suicide King - Thank you Einstein. Eventually the competitors begin to stir and show signs of life. Insane Luchador uses the ring for support to get to his feet, as Taiga uses the barricade to assist her. With both Insane Luchador and Taiga standing, they face each other in yet another staredown. Insane Luchador rears back and clocks Taiga in the jaw! She wobbles but remains upright. Taiga returns the favor, nailing him with a right hand. They trade blows (not like that, pervs!) like this, each hit louder than the last. Finally, they both rear back and punch each other at the same time, sending each other backwards with the force; Insane Luchador into the barricade this time, Taiga into the side of the ring. Taiga climbs in under the bottom rope and gets to her knees. She looks up and sees a woman standing at the entrance. Annie Eclectic, though Taiga does not know who she is at this time. She doesn't know how long the woman was standing there for. Annie isn't making a move to indicate her interfering in the match, she's just standing there, watching. This confuses Taiga for a moment, at least, until she sees The Ill One climbing in the ring from the floor. Taiga stomps furiously at him, not giving him a chance to get up. She pulls him by his legs and drags him through the pile of tacks on the mat. Then she goes for a fistdrop, but Insane Luchador rolls out of the way, and all Taiga gets is a fistful of tacks! Taiga screams out, quickly pulling the tacks out of her fist, then Insane Luchador kicks her in the head. Taiga seems to shake it off easily and she scrambles out of the way. Getting to her feet, Taiga shoves The Ill One hard into the ropes. Taiga runs toward him and leaps, landing a cross body against him, pushing him into the ropes. Insane Luchador, frustrated, climbs between the ropes onto the apron. Taiga takes the opportunity to pull his head backwards over the top rope, bending his spine at an unnatural angle. She lets go and his head snaps forward. Stepping through the ropes, Taiga joins Insane Luchador on the apron. Taiga and the Ill One fight it out, struggling to get the upper hand. Insane Luchador goes fro a DDT, but Taiga hooks a leg around the ropes, blocking it. She grabs two handfuls of hair and headbutts him, once, twice, three times in a row. They both wince from the impacts, Taiga almost losing her footing, Insane Luchador grabbing hold of Taiga for support. Then, with a great shriek, she hooks his arms and drives him off the apron onto the floor head first with a piledriver!! Mak Francis - He landed on the top of his head right on the bare concrete! Insane Luchador lays there dead on the floor, his eyes glazed over and staring into some nonexistent point on the ceiling. Taiga struggles to her feet, clutching her behind where she landed on her ass. She stumbles around a bit before eying the table set up near the apron. Suicide King - She's got that scary look again, Mak. Taiga leans over, pulls Insane Luchador up, and throws him over her shoulders in a fireman's carry. She goes over to the table... and lays him gently on top. She motions to the top turnbuckle and the crowd cheers. She rolls into the ring and ascends up the corner. She measures out the angle carefully in her head. Then she leaps off the top with a DOUBLE STOMP on Insane Luchadore, landing on his chest and sending him through the table!!! Mak Francis - That's it! Nobody gets up from that Double Stomp! Suicide King - It's a devastating move, considering the amount of weight she has to work with. Mak Francis - King! Taiga scrambles quickly for the cover on the lifeless Insane Luchador. ONE! TWO!! ...THREE!!! The ref calls for the bell. DING DING DING!! Funyon - Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the match, Taiga Star!! The referee raises Taiga's hand. She smiles wide, her teeth looking very white in contrast with her bloody face. Insane Luchador is barely moving in the rubble of the table. Mak Francis - An impressive win here by Taiga Star. She's really moving up the card, and if she can continue to score wins over competitors like The Ill One, her career here in the SWF will be a good one. Suicide King - Unfortunately. Taiga sees Insane Luchador showing signs of life. She goes over to him, possibly to attack him? No, she's helping him up out of the splinters of wood! She struggles to get him to his feet, and when she finally does... she shakes his hand! Insane Luchador appears surprised by this, and even more so when Taiga raises his arm in a show of good sportsmanship. She is seen mouthing the words "Good Match" to him before she leaves to go backstage. Eddy Long helps Insane Luchador to the back, The Ill One's knee is still a bit tender. And Annie Eclectic is nowhere to be seen.

"Welcome back to SWF's 'Can't Get A Date'!" exclaims Mak, "A great show so far, having a chance to get to know El Hombre Sin Nombre before the break, it will certainly be an uphill battle for him to try and shock the world again with his second match." "If you think the Nameless Wonder has a shot against one of the biggest talents I've seen rise up the ranks, you're as crazy as the Maskless Luchadore!" says King, smirking. Mak's face scrunches up in irritation, "There's no 'e' in IL's name, King." "How did you see an 'e' in my speech?" asks King. "Well, simply..." *FFFFFFROOOMMPH* "... Huh?" asks Mak. Darkness envelops the arena, save for the occasional flash bulb going off. The SmarkTron sparks to life showing an empty hallway inside the arena. It isn't empty for long as a rushing Hardcore Queen takes the corner and runs, gym bag in one hand and a CD case in the other. The camera follows as she turns down another corner and crashes into Ben Hardy, both people dropping to the floor. Eclectic jumps up, dusting herself off, then helping Hardy up to his feet. "BEN!" "Don't hurt me Allison!" exclaims Hardy, taking a defensive position. "Ben! No no, it's me! Annie! Damn I've been gone too long!" Cheers erupt from the crowd, realizing the OTHER Onita sister has made a shock reappearance. "Annie? Wh... hey, hi! What brings you..." "No time for love Dr. Jones! Here!" Annie picks up the disc she was holding and swiftly throws it at Ben who bobbles it but finally gets control. "Whoever the production assistant is, give him that. It's my new entrance... gotta run! I think I'm late for my match!" Annie picks up her bag mid stride, running down the hallway again. Ben (and the camera) watch as she takes another corner, nearly slipping on the newly waxed floor, and dashes off. Ben looks down at the disc in his hand then looks around, slightly confused. "We have a production assistant here?" The screen goes black again, leaving the arena sans light. "I don't like her," says King, "But at least this time she's not in disguise. I hate Midnight Cowboy gimmicks." A clean sounding guitar solo plays over the arena, the opening melody for "I'm Alright" by Neil Zaza. Quick running clips of the more famous of Annie's matches play as the Hardcore Queen comes out herself, smiling in her white hoodie and pants and taking in the loud chorus of cheers. "Ladies and Gentlemen," begins Funyon, "This next match is scheduled for one fall under standard rules. Entering first... at a weight of one hundred sixty five pounds and hailing from Shinjuku, Japan... she is the HARD! CORE! QUEEN! ... Annnnnnniiiiie Eeeeeecleeeeeectiiiiic!" Annie raises her bokken high above her head and casually walks down to the ring, unzipping her sweatshirt at the ring stairs and hanging it on the ring post. Dropping her warmups, Eclectic walks up the steps in her signature white doublet and steps through the ropes, hopping up to the second turnbuckle and mugging for the crowd she hadn't seen in years. "It's been a while, but I for one am glad to see the Hardcore Queen back in action!" says Mak. "Too bad it's not a different kind of Hardcore action she got into..." says King under his breath. "Funny, didn't think you swung that way." "Hey now..." Now off the ropes, Annie turns to a back corner and backs in, ready to watch her opponent. Once again the SmarkTron comes to life, showing a fuse that is rapidly burning towards its end. "Mission Impossible" begins to play as clips of the Secret Agent Man's best hits begin to play. Decked in high tech shades and stylish black slacks, Johnny Dangerous makes his grand appearance to an equally loud outburst of cheers from the crowd. "And her opponent, from Las Vegas, Nevada and weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds... tenacious as a barracuda and just as deadly.... Johnny DAAAAAAAAANGEROOOOOUUUS!" "These two haven't fought much, but there is some history," starts Mak, "Wild and Dangerous are one of the better tag teams we've seen come through the SWF, and they fought under the Catch-22 banner early headed by Mr. Beezel..." "Which was yet again Annie under a mask," says King, "At least that Scion gimmick got canned early." Dangerous dashes to the ring, diving through the ropes and popping up to a huge cheer. Eclectic smiles and applaudes in the corner, walking up and offering a hand. The Barracuda looks in her eyes (through his shades of course) and takes the proffered hand. As they shake, the audience applaudes the rare show of sportsmanship. "This isn't going to be a grudge match," says Mak, "But it should be interesting nonetheless. Dangerous is a three time former world champion and while on a downswing of late he's a threat to take anyone down at any time. Eclectic hasn't gotten the World, but she is the most successful woman in SWF's history and you know she's got to be still hungry if she's back." DING DING DING Dangerous and Eclectic lock up in the center of the ring, each trying to maneuver into a better hold. After some struggle Dangerous shoves Eclectic out of the hold and smiles. He mugs for the audience with his arms flexed, getting the more hetero women in the audience excited. "Dangerous showing his strength here, something that will help him greatly throughout the match if he uses it well," notes King. Annie stands with her arms akimbo, making a slightly disgusted face. She waves at Dangerous to come at her and the two lock up again in a collar-elbow tieup. The two struggle until Johnny again shoves the smaller fighter to the mat. Annie kipups to her feet, looking annoyed. She eggs on the Barracuda for another lockup. This time Annie finds a way to place her leg through Johnny's. With a short push, she trips up the Secret Agent who lands on his back, amazingly with his shades still on his face. The Hardcore Queen lifts and arm up and flexes to the tune of laughter from the crowd. "For better or worse," says Mak, "Annie's ego drives her a lot. From personal experience, she does not deal with bravado well." "She doesn't deal with a lot of things well, like keeping friendships or staying in a single stable," says King. Dangerous climbs to his feet as his opponent makes a run at the ropes. Bouncing off, the Hardcore Queen ducks one clothesline... then another as she rebounds off the ropes. Johnny sets his feet for a third shot only to get hit by a flying forearm off the ropes! Wasting no time she rises to her feet and makes a run for the ropes. Leaping up, Annie lands and catapults off the second rope to a picture perfect Lionsault... BAM! Right on top of Johnny's chest! She scrambles quickly to hook a leg for a cover as the official drops for a count... ONE! TWO! T... KICKOUT! "Dangerous seemed slightly stunned there, but as dumb as Eclectic is I can't imagine she would honestly think a weak shot like that would take anyone down... even you would kick out, Mak!" "Thanks King," says Mak deadpan, "True friend you are." "Whatever Yoda." Annie grumbles at the referee as she gets up, pulling Johnny to his feet with her. Firmly grabbing the back of his head (and getting a warning from Soapdish), Eclectic leaps up and drives her knee straight into the Barracuda's face! ... and another! ... and again as the third knee strike drops the Secret Agent, his shades breaking in half and falling away. A trickle of blood appears at the bridge of his nose, causing the Hardcore Queen to smile as she runs to the ropes, jumps onto the second rope and leaps backwards in a beautiful arc.... only to land on the Barracuda's broken shades as he rolls out of the way! "Oooooohhh, the crowd felt that one as the Hardcore Queen misses a second lionsault!" exclaims Mak. "She didn't miss, that was a beautiul landing onto those shades. She sure taught the sunglasses a thing or two!" says King. Annie rolls through onto her knees, taking a second to remove the plastic shards that cut up her doublet. Ignoring the blood trickling from herself, she slowly walks over to the kneeling Secret Agent. Eclectic takes the back of his head... only to get a fist to the gut for her troubles. A second gutshot doubles over the Hardcore Queen and suddenly Dangerous is feeling his last name. Standing up, Johnny wipes some of the blood away from his face before viciously driving a knee into his opponent's midsection. With Annie doubled over, Johnny takes his cue to lock hands around the woman's waist. With a grunt, he pops his hips and lifts the Hardcore Queen up and drives her backwards to the mat! "NASTY Belly to back suplex by the Secret Agent!" says King. "Don't forget, I don't care how much rest she's had, Annie has had multiple injuries to her ribs and stomach," notes Mak, "It's a soft spot for the Queen. Johnny has to know this from working with her in the past, will he remember and use the knowledge?" Dangerous pops to his feet, shaking the cobwebs from his head. The Barracuda points his elbow down towards his opponent and drops, landing right in the sternum of Eclectic. He repeats with a second, and a third, before dragging her up by her head. Soapdish warns about any hair pulling shenanigans and Johnny adjusts his grip to her neck as she straightens. Locking on a front facelock, Dangerous grunts and lifts the woman high above his head in a vertical suplex. The Barracuda holds her, keeping her vertical while allowing the blood to rush directly to her skull. "A rare show of strength by the Secret Agent here," says Mak, "He's bleeding pretty good from the cut he got from Annie's knee strikes, he may be looking to end this one a little early." "Either that," says King, "Or he's venting some frustration by being held down in Catch-22" "He wasn't held down!" exclaims Mak. "Then explain to me why he was number three, while she took number one?" asks King, "You can't, because Eclectic is simply a glory hog." "I don't think I've ever seen you defend Dangerous." "Lesser of two evils. Dangerous is a buffoon, but at least he's not a conniving bitch." The crowd starts to gasp as Annie is held up for twenty... no thirty seconds before Dangerous allows her to crash painfully to the mat! He can feel the wind getting knocked out of her and calmly rolls over to hook a leg... ONE! TWO! THRE..... KICKOUT! "Close call for the Queen," says Mak. Checking the ref's count, Dangerous can't help but feel a bit exasperated. Noting the rips on the Queen's torso, Dangerous rolls her over onto her chest. Taking the left ankle, Johnny lifts Eclectic's leg up and wraps it over his back and around his shoulder. The audience splits between cheers and gasps as he drops down to one knee, locking in the excruciating Barracuda Lock! "Barracuda! Barracuda!" screams King, "Heh, not a fan of this doofus but if he takes out Annie Eclectic before she can stink up the federation, I'm all for it!" "Johnny's really coming out in force in this match," says Mak, "He seems even hungrier, and unfortunatly the returning Eclectic looks to be just a bump in the road right now!" Annie's bloodcurdling scream echoes throughout the arena, audible even to those suckers in the nosebleed seats. Dangerous leans forward slightly, exerting even more pain and pressure on Annie's wounded stomach. What was a trickle of blood from her torso begins to grow as the lock begins tearing at the cuts. Pounding the mat, Annie shakes off Soapdish's first request for a submission. "Is that... Johnny is actually stretching Annie's wounds!" exclaims Mak, "This cannot go on for much longer! Even the Hardcore Queen has to recognize when she's been outmaneuvered." "For once I'll agree with you," says King, "He has her right in the middle of the ring, no way can she escape!" Eclectic is screaming through clenched teeth, pounding her fist onto the mat. Soapdish asks for another submission but Annie spits out a denial not suitable for television. She tries to roll towards her side but Johnny matches her movement, pinning her facefirst to the mat. Eclectic tries rolling the other way but again Dangerous matches her movement and keeps the hold locked in. "Just give up Queen," says King, "You were never worth the royal title, even for garbage wrestling!" Placing both her free foot and left hand on the mat, Annie screams as she tries to lift the Secret Agent off her. Johnny rises slightly but keeps the hold on, letting her rise and place more pressure on herself. She almost drops back to the mat... before throwing a wild backfist towards the Barracuda! She misses his face by an inch, causing Johnny to retaliate with a Shotei to the back! Eclectic screams again, throwing another wild backfist but this time grazing him on the nose! "Annie Eclectic may be a lot of things, King," starts Mak, "But one thing has never been a quitter! Look at her fight back!" "If she escapes Mak, it's pure luck," says King, "Nothing but pure luck." Johnny rises with his opponents movement, only to drop all his weight back onto the Queen! Annie can't keep fighting the strain and drops back to the mat, crying with the pain. Dangerous begins to ask for the submission as well, echoing Soapdish's request. Annie's reply is clear if not strained.... "GET." Annie's hand goes to the mat... "THE." Her free foot follows suit... "FUCK." Both begin to lift... "OFF OF ME!!!!" As she throws all her strength behind a backfist that finds Johnny's temple! The Barracuda collapses to her side, releasing the hold to a chorus of cheers from the unbelieving crowd! "What tenacity!" screams Mak, "I don't think I've seen anyone fight that hard out of a crab variant!" Her victory doesn't last long as she rolls over into a fetal position, kicking the mat fast and hard to try and dull the pain she still feels on her stomach. The Barracuda recovered much faster, walking over to his opponent and dragging her roughly to her feet. Grabbing her wrist, he sends the Queen hard and fast into the turnbuckles with an Irish Whip. Facing Eclectic, Dangerous then runs full speed and DRIVES a knee into her midsection, doubling her over before she collapses to the mat. With his opponent not quite where he wants her, Dangerous drags the Queen towards the center of the ring by her arm and leg before depositing her four feet from the turnbuckle. Pointing towards the corner another mix of cheers and gasps rise up as Johnny climbs up to the top rope... "What is this fool going for?" asks King, "She obviously out, just pin the bitch and get her out of our misery!" "Fans of the Hardcore Queen must be worried, we may be in for a Death From Above and I can't think of a more devastating move right now to help Johnny win this match!" says Mak. As Johnny straightens up to his full height, he looks out before the crowd. With a smile Johnny poses for the audience as they erupt in cheers... reacting to Eclectic's sloppy kipup to her feet! Annie makes a 'come here' gesture to the unknowing Barracuda as she braces herself. Johnny blindly leaps backwards in his own gorgeous Moonsault... only to get caught by Eclectic! The momentum swings the Barracuda down as Annie almost lets go, her legs unsure if they can hold the weight. Eclectic turns slightly causing Johnny's head to swing past her knees to the side. Following momentum, Annie again almost lets her opponent slip before she can turn and let Johnny rise up... almost becoming parallel with the mat... and driven face first to the mat by a sloppy but possibly effective... "HOLLOWPOINT!!!! HOLLOWPOINT!!!" screams Mak trying to be heard over the crowd's excitement, "Annie just countered the Death From Above to a Hollowpoint Driver from NOWHERE!" "How... How?" asks King, "... Just how??? How did she do that?" "But can she go for a cover? Johnny took an incredible amount out of her in a short time, he may still have life in this match if she can't capitalize!" Annie drags herself sideways and pulls on Johnny's shoulder, just barely rolling him onto his back. Soapdish is watching as she makes a simply cover by draping her arm over her opponent's body..... ONE! TWO! THRE..........EEEEEEE! DING DING DING "I'm Alright" blasts through the Arena as Annie's hand is raised in a somewhat surprising victory. Holding her midsection, the Hardcore Queen simply rolls out of the ring, her arm trying to hold in the blood still running from the now deep cuts to her midsection. She motions towards the timekeeper, who finds a microphone and helpfully passes it to Eclectic. "You mean we have to hear her talk too?" asks King feeling slightly dejected. The music stops as Annie lifts the mic to her lips "Look," says Annie, gasping for air, "Johnny... you still *huff* look out of it so *puff* I'll be short." Annie winces as she turns towards the ring. "Number three... you're still *huff* a friend but, *huff* if you ever. EVER try and *huff* injure me again like that..." She trails off waiting for more air to get into her lungs. "I WILL ****ING WRECK YOU!" The crowd cheers for the scrappy Japanese woman. "That's not a threat, friend. Nor is it a promise. THAT... is a..." "DECREE!" finishes the audience. "... a Decree from the HARD! CORE!" "QUEEN!!!" says Annie and the crowd in unison. Having finished her impromptu speech, she deftly flings the mic in the ring which bounces off the Barracuda's head with a loud THUMP. "I'm Alright" plays again as she grabs her warmup gear and bokken and heads backstage. "Maybe not how she saw her first match back going, but you can't deny the results," says Mak, "An important win to start off the Hardcore Queen's return, and she's no less violent, that's for sure." "Or bitchy..." "Hush King, we have to head to commercial but stay with us for more SWF ACTION!!!!" (fade to black)

????HOUSE OF MARVELOUS????

“No way.” “Yes way.” “No. No way.” “Unfortunately, yes way.” Landon Maddix is sitting in his office and looking at a piece of paper. It should perhaps not be surprising that the fairly unimaginative back-and-forth dialogue is taking place between him and his long-time nemesis, sometime tag partner and possible… well, if not friend then they can at least stand to be in the same room together. Sometimes. “I can’t believe this,” Landon groans, “a pectoral muscle tear? Right off the bone?” “Yup,” Toxxic replies with resignation, “bloody painful too, I can tell you.” “This is… unfortunate,” Landon mutters, vivid images of income spiralling downwards filling his head. Toxxic is egotistical, annoying, and the most successful World Champion of all time. Liked or hated, he is a genuine big name and a definite help when it comes to pulling crowds. And now we won’t be wrestling. “So, how long will you be out for?” “I don’t know, I’m not a specialist,” Toxxic snaps, “read the piece of paper!” “I can’t read the handwriting,” Landon admits. “That’s how you know it’s from a real doctor,” Toxxic grins. “No, but seriously, I think I’m meant to be out for about eight months or something.” “Eight months!?” “Or something,” Toxxic nods. “I mean, I’m pretty young, I’m fit, I’ve never had any injuries before so who knows? It’s just a shame it cost me the title.” “…say what?” Landon asks, looking up and away from the piece of paper that is currently the object of his hatred. “The World Title?” Toxxic prompts. “Come on Landon, get with the program.” “Mike, I know what the World Title is,” Landon states, “what I fail to understand is how this injury cost you the match.” “Landon, I’m young, studly and fantastically talented,” Toxxic tells him, “plus I have the best hair in the company. But surely you can’t expect me to beat Michael Alexander when I’ve torn my pectoral muscle off the bone in the middle of the match!” “There’s nothing on here that says you tore that muscle in the match!” Landon protests, slapping the offending document. “Hey, I thought you couldn’t read it!” Toxxic accuses, “how do you know what it says!” “It’s dated Monday and says you tore your muscle ‘in the last few days’,” Landon says, squinting at the doctor’s report. “That COULD be the Clusterfuck, but it could as easily be training afterwards. Sounds like you’re making excuses to me. I mean,” he continues, “I saw you right after that match and you were… well, you were physically fine,” he corrects himself, “I mean, you did tell me to fuck off and die, but-” “Landon. Injury occurred at Clusterfuck. End of story,” Toxxic snaps. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” Landon sighs. “OK, so what are we going to do with you?” “Well, I was hoping that we could cut the planned rehab time in half,” Toxxic says seriously, “then bring me back in an extremely fortuitous protected position at the end of a 30-man staggered-entry Battle Royale, get me a World Title shot and then hastily rebook plans, ignoring company tradition in the process to ensure that we get the most financially lucrative match-up possible for our biggest show of the year.” Landon looks at him for a few long seconds. “…or, I’ll just rehab as normal, come back when I’m ready and earn myself a title shot the same as anyone else,” Toxxic suggests, when Landon’s gaze doesn’t falter. “That might be better,” Maddix agrees, “because your suggestion was about two steps up from Hell In A Pokeball.” “You’re telling me that you hated Hell In A Pokeball?” Toxxic asks. “Even I have standards,” Landon replies, shuffling paper to cover over the discarded plans for the ‘ST VALENTINE’S DAY FIVE-MAN FLUFFY HEART CUSHION ON A POLE MATCH’. “Well Mike, I’ll be honest, the company will miss you while you’re gone. Just remember; work hard, train sensibly, say your prayers and eat Frost Brand Vitamins™!” “Fuck you,” Toxxic responds good-naturedly, “I’m going back to Sacremento to watch TV and eat pizza. Ciao!” “Great,” Landon mutters as the Straight-Edge Sensation leaves, “just great...” Landon sighs, while opening up a drawer beside him on his desk, pulling out a mirror. "....best hair in the company my ass."

A red light fills the arena and a familiar techno beat plays. The Fabulous Jakey emerges from the curtain, wearing his signature red trenchcoat. "And Jakey set for one-on-one action, with the deck stacked against him," summarizes Mak Francis. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall!" Funyon announces. "Introducing first, from New York City, weighing in at 160 lbs., The Fabulous Jakey!" "I wonder what Jakey's plans are for Valentine's Day," Suicide King laughs. "I don't think we want to go there," debates Mak. "But if he gets a beating tonight that would certainly put a damper on things." Jakey walks up the steps and motions for referee Nick Soapdish to hold the ropes open for him, then walks to the center of the ring and removes the red trenchcoat. He's wearing matching red boots tonight. "Going Under" by Evanescence begins blaring and Jakey's much larger opponent tears through the curtain. "Making his way to the ring, weighing at 240 pounds, and from DETROIT, MICHIGAN, Orden Noash!" Orden gets a positive reaction as we are in his home state. Jakey backs up considerably as Orden gets in the ring and removes his own trench jacket. "Battle of the trenches," surmises Mak Francis. Nick Soapdish calls for the bell-- DING DING DING! and Jakey immediately ducks out of the ring, to the disapproval of the crowd. "Jakey ducking for cover already!" Mak cries. "It's strategy," defends Suicide King. "You don't want to be in there when Orden is full of adrenaline!" Nick Soapdish yells at Jakey to get in the ring, but the Fabulous One petulantly shakes his head and yells at the crowd. Orden shoves Soapdish out of the way and runs out of the ring to get after his opponent, and the chase is on! "Orden chasing Jakey around the ring!" Mak cries as Orden runs after Jakey. Jakey circles a corner of the ring, then dives under the ropes, and Orden dives after him, only to be set up into Jakey stomping on his back! "Jakey pulls the oldest trick in the book!" Mak cries. "We've seen him do this before!" "And it always works, doesn't it?" Suicide King asks. Jakey gets a few soccer kicks into the ribs of Orden before the bigger man helps himself up with help from the ropes. Orden turns around and stares down Jakey, who again cowers. With the crowd's approval, Orden grabs Jakey effortlessly and scoops him up, then knocks him to the mat with a hard scoop slam. "This could be academic here," Mak says. "Jakey's giving up almost a hundred pounds! Orden probably benches more than Jakey's weight!" With Jakey grabbing his back in pain, Orden scoops him up again, hoisting Jakey in the air in position for a gorilla press. Standing in the center of the ring, Orden darkly stares out at the crowd, who is anxiously awaiting Jakey's fate. "And what comes up must come ...." SPLAT! "...Down." Orden circles his fallen opponent a few times, then hits a violent KICK to the side, followed by another one. "This guy's just being sadistic here!" Mak cries. "Not going for a pin, just furthering the pain!" Orden picks Jakey up by the head, then throws him into the corner, where Jakey is flung so violently that he whiplashes forward and falls on his stomach. Slowly pacing, Orden walks to Jakey and gets him to his feet, then shoves him into the corner and starts stomping a mudhole in him. ONE TWO THREE FOUR and Nick Soapdish tries to get Orden to stop, but the crowd is cheering the Michigan-style beating. Orden yells at Soapdish, then continues stomping on his opponent. Soapdish tries to intervene and Orden yells at him to shut up, then sits Jakey up atop the top turnbuckle. "And what's Orden gonna do here?" Mak asks. Orden answers by hitting Jakey with a HARD uppercut that knocks him off the top rope, onto the apron and finally the ground below. "And Jakey's right back where he started!" cries Mak. Orden stays in the ring and Nick Soapdish begins a count ONE TWO But this time Jakey gets up, grabs his back, and gives both men in the ring the Italian bird. "Oh, don't tell me we're gonna have a count-out!" THREE FOUR Jakey gets back up on the apron and Orden goes for him, but Jakey buries his head in Orden's stomach a few times to gain leverage, then hits an expert Hangman that sends Orden reeling. Jakey swiftly gets fully in the ring, then neutralizes Orden with a Bulldog that sends him to the mat! "Jakey getting some fire here! Quick cover!" ONE TWO And Orden powers out, sending Jakey to his stomach. Jakey instinctively backs into the turnbuckle, and Orden runs at him with a charge-- "Incoming!" cries Mak. --but Jakey dodges it, causing Orden to eat turnbuckle! Jakey quickly rolls up Orden with Soapdish in perfect position-- ONE-- TWO-- --but Orden kicks out again. Still feeling momentum, Jakey runs off of the ropes and attempts a cross-body, but Orden perfectly counters it into a Powerslam! "Oh what impact!" Mak cries. "That could do it! ONE-- TWO--" and Jakey kicks out! With a look of skepticism, Orden picks up the limber opponent and violently clubs his back, then does it again; Jakey winces after each blow. Orden throws Jakey off the ropes, then knocks him down with a thunderous clothesline! "And Orden not looking to be in a hurry, doing what he feels he has to do to put this opponent away!" Orden again picks Jakey up by the head and delivers another harsh clothesline, sending Jakey to the mat with a thud! "And Orden continuing to effortlessly pummel The Fabulous Jakey!" Mak summarizes. Without missing a beat, Orden grabs Jakey by the arm and throws him off the ropes, then hits a beautiful sidewalk slam! "Sidewalk slam! What impact!" Mak cries. Orden hooks the leg -- "ONE-- TWO-- --and the resilient Jakey kicks out! "And nothing we haven't seen before, Jakey proving tougher than he looks," Mak says. "But how much can he take?" Suicide King asks. "Orden is relentless tonight!" Beginning to appear frustrated, Orden again grabs Jakey, then picks him up and scores a backbreaker! Jakey lays motionless on the canvas as Orden gets a dangerous look on his face. "Perhaps Orden is moving in for the kill here," suggests Mak. Orden seizes control of the opponent and sets him up over the head, looking for the Darkness Driver! "This has gotta do it!" Mak cries. "The Darkness Driver!" But Orden takes too long setting up the move, as the nubile Jakey slides down his opponent's body and gets a sunset flip! "What? A sunset flip out of nowhere! ONE-- TWO-- TH-- --and Orden barely kicks out!" "I knew he had it in him!" Suicide King cries. Jakey hooks Orden by the neck and looks to the ropes behind him ... "And will it be? The Jumping Jakey Flash!" Jakey attempts to springboard off of the ropes to procure his finishing move, but Orden is too powerful and counters it by repositioning Jakey on his shoulders, then scores the Darkness Driver! "And Orden! Just too strong! The Darkness Driver! ONE TWO THREE!" "Here is your winner, ORDEN NOASH!" "And Orden Noash making very quick work in his home state of Michigan!"

Into the arena we go, down to ringside where The Suicide King and Mak Francis are with us to call the action as always. "Hello everyone and thank you for joining us on DVD, live to tape from Grand Rapids, Michigan. And tonight, the SWF Can't Get A Date!" announces Mak. "Shoot comment." "It's Valentine's Day here in Grand Rapids... as well as the rest of the world... well, certain countries, I can't vouch for all parts of the world. But where it matters, America, it is Valentine's Day. That's my point. However there is a distinct lack of love in the back, no love lost tonight between the SWF superstars on the last stop before From The Fire!" "You know," King starts, "usually I'm a pretty bitter guy." "NO! I won't hear it King!" "No, no, I know it. And I'll be damned if Maddix hasn't been even more insufferable the past couple of days and especially tonight, all loved up on this sickly-sweet commercial holiday. I swear he's said more to me about his 'big dinner date with Megan after the show' than he has the show itself. There's fluffy pink crap all over the back. Balloons shaped like hearts. Cut-out cupids hanging from the ceilings. We have PYSCHOPATHS on our roster. Honest to God pyschopaths! God knows what MANSON and Insane Luchador and the like are thinking walking around in the back." "King, I hate to interrupt, but... it's Commissioner Maddix." King scowls. "The point is, even though it's even more of a chore to be here than usual... I have gotten into the spirit of things." Reaching under the table, King produces a box, wrapped in shiny pink wrapping paper no less. "And Mak, since there's no bitches around... Happy Valentine's Day." Already looking dubious, Mak opens up the present with a weird look at his 'partner' (in commentary only, or at least I thought so)... and rolls his eyes as he tears away the box to reveal TWO FLUFFY PINK WHEELCHAIR WHEEL COVERS!! "You... you really shouldn't have." Mak insists, trying to hold back a smile in spite of himself. "Go ahead, try them on!" "...maybe later. Can we please get to the wrestling now?"

COLE It's now time for our main-event, so let's take it up to Michael Buffer for the introductions. *DINGDING!* BUFFER Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is your OAOAST HeldDOWN~! main-event of the evening, scheduled for one fall with television time remaining! [IMG=http://i261.photobucket.com/albums/ii59/KingCucaracha/landontodd.jpg] "Oh No" by Mos Def, Nate Dogg and Pharoah Monche hits and a shower of sparks rains down on Todd Cortez as he marches out from the back. Cortez soaks in the moment for a second before heading for the ring. BUFFER Introducing first. Tonight, he must avoid defeat or be forced to join the ranks of his bitter rival's Cucaracha Internacional stable. Hailing from Hollywood Boulevard... he weighs in at two hundred, twenty six pounds. He is "THE URBAN LEGEND"... TTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODD... CCOOOOOOOOORRRRRRTTEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZ!!!! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Cortez scales the ropes and throws two very determined arms up in the air, before he takes off his gold chain and cross, kissing them and passing them over to the referee. COLE Todd Cortez has been waiting for this match since August 16th in Honolulu, Hawaii. On that night, Cortez got his first shot at the OAOAST World Title, but was unable to defeat Landon Maddix. He was left bloodied, beaten and hospitalised on that night. Since then Cortez has been a thorn in Landon's side however, all of which has earned him this rematch, simply because Landon has had enough and wants to force his former tag team partner back to his side! COACH It's the best thing for everyone concerned Michael. Cortez was seduced into thinking he'd be better off on his own and we all know how that turned out. Maddix is just trying to put the world back to rights. COLE So nothing to do with the repeated Riot Act Pluses he's suffered the past few months? COACH Added bonus. [b]"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"[/b] [i]...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM*[/i] "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" All eyes turn back to the entrance way as "Megalomaniac" powers through the PA system, including those of Todd Cortez. The Urban Legend doesn't look entirely surprised either as not only Landon and not only Megan, but also Nathaniel Black, James Blonde and Faqu emerge! With a smug grin on his face, Landon poses with the members of Cucaracha Internacional assembled behind him. BUFFER And his opponent. Accompanied to the ring by MEGAN SKYE! He is the leader of Cucaracha Internacional, aiming to bring his former tag team partner back to his side. From Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... weighing two hundred, eight pounds... the former OAOAST World Heavyweight Champion... LLLAAAAAAAAANNDDOOOOONN... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXX!!!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Maddix's smug look isn't to last though. As he and his merry band of friends reach the ring they're confronted by referee Earl Hebner who in no uncertain terms tells Landon the match is going to be one on one. And to ensure that, he shows the rest of Cucaracha Internacional the way to the back!! "YYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" COACH What!? COLE Great call by Earl Hebner! No good can come of having Black, Blonde and especially Faqu at ringside. A further group of referees head out to make sure the unwanted Cucaracha Internacional members leave as Landon protests in vain, claiming that he just wants Todd to see what he's about to join up with. Hebner is hearing none of it though and Black is guided away, Blonde quickly making sure Faqu does the same as he grows restless with all the referees crowded around him. COLE Well, it looks like Megan's going to stay, but at least the other three are gone. Not that I'd put anything past Megan, but she has a manager's license, so... COACH Besides, you can't seperate Megan from Landon. Not so soon after Valentine's Day! Landon tries to hide his disappointment and enters the ring, watching as his back-up is whisked away. He then turns to Cortez who leans in the opposite corner waiting patiently for the bell to ring. He has to wait for Landon to get rid of his ring gear though, slicking back his hair and sharing some last words of advise with Megan. Or, stalling, for short. "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" With the crowd getting restless, Landon finally decides he's ready to go. *DINGDINGDING!* The two circle, before much to Cortez's surprise Maddix extends his hand looking for a handshake! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" COLE How disingenuous. COACH Dis... come on Michael, this is a show of sportmanship. Applaud that man! Cortez looks understandably dubious and refuses the hand. Shrugging, Landon continues to claim he was being genuine as they circle again. Both Landon and Cortez drop into fighting stances and look for an opening. Cagey, both tease a kick put pull out, before Landon finally gambles. Todd avoids the kick and Landon quickly drops back into the stance. Again he kicks for the leg, but again is evaded. And Landon brief foray into the mixed martial arts before it's began, as Cortez cracks him in the back of the leg with a kick! A second! And a third, sweeping La Cucaracha's feet from underneath him! Landon quickly crawls to the ropes and ducks through to buy himself time to recover, Cortez forced to keep back. COLE A lot of history between these two men, dating back to late 2004 in the SWF. Megan rubs some feeling back into the thigh muscles of her man trying to get him back to 100%. Cortez sees this as time-wasting and goes after Landon, but Hebner steps in between. COLE And plenty of that history revolves around that young lady there. COACH What she ever saw in that piece of street trash Cortez, I'll never know. I mean, look at Landon. Grrrrowl! No homo. Finally Maddix is massaged into health and ready to go again. This time he locks up with Cortez, collar and elbow tie-up. After a tussle for position Landon manages to turn Cortez against the turnbuckles, forcing a break. Which, much to Cortez's surprise, Landon gives cleanly. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" COLE Clean break. Uncharacteristic. COACH He's showing sportmanship, a nice clean wrestling match with his future understudy. He doesn't want to hurt Todd unneccessarily. After tonight, they'll be back to being the best of friends after all. COLE Oh, of course. Another lock-up sees Cortez backing Landon into the corner this time. Again the referee steps in and Maddix [i]tells[/i] Todd to give him a clean break, just like he had seconds earlier. Cortez is thoroughly tempted to club him in the mouth and shut him up. But he gives the clean break all the same. Landon grins smugly and pats Cortez on the shoulder, the camera picking up him saying "see, how easy it is to do what I tell you to do..." *SLAP!* "YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" ...and Cortez DOES shut him up this time, slapping him in the face! COACH HEY! Cortez takes the shell-shocked Maddix by the arm, whipping him across the ring and into the opposite corner. The Urban Legend follows in with a clothesline, then snapmares Landon to the mat and CRACKS him in the spine with a hard kick! Writhing in pain, Landon finds his way back to his knees and begs off, pleading for him to listen to reason. So Cortez cracks him in the chest with a kick! Maddix has had enough of this and ducks his head between the ropes looking for a reprieve. So Cortez cracks him in the ASS with a kick, sending Landon to the floor! COLE Rarely has the term 'ass kicking' been quite so literal! Over scuttles Megan to check on her man. He's again in need of a massage and lucky lady that she is, Megan knows just where it's required. But she gets let off the hook by Cortez as he launches himself over the top with a PESCADO, wiping Landon out! "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Throwing Landon back inside, Cortez keeps a close eye on Megan as he follows him back in. Maddix pulls himself back up and turns around, right into a Crotch Droppah across the knee! COLE Ooh. I think Maddix is in need of another 'massage' after that one. COACH Who can blame the guy? Before he can get over to Megan however, Maddix gets caught and popped with a German Suplex! 1... 2... NO! In complete control, Cortez measures Landon back to his feet... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and chops him back across the ring! Maddix falls into the ropes and Cortez follows in, sending him across the ring with an irish whip. On the rebound, Cortez nails Landon with a Spinning Wheel Kick and makes another cover... 1... 2... No! COLE We thought back in Honolulu that Maddix had ruined the notion that Todd Cortez was his 'bogey opponent', but it certainly doesn't seem that way at the moment. COACH Hold your roll Michael. The match has barely got going, give him a chance! Again Cortez measures Landon, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but Montreal right about now. Hands up all ready to beg off, he turns around and gets cracked in the back of the thigh with another kick! Landon's knee buckles... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and he takes a chop to the chest. The force of the chop knocks him off his feet and down to his knees, again throwing his hands up to try and stop Cortez. But when that doesn't work, he resorts to the old stand-by, the thumb to the eye! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" COLE So much for the 'fair wrestling match' with his soon to be 'friend', eh? COACH All part of the grand scheme. Temporarily blinded, Cortez stumbles around the ring. Maddix breathes a sigh of relief that he's not [i]currently[/i] on the end of a BUTT-kicking before he goes after Cortez. By the arm he drags him around into a forearm shot. And a second. An irish whip then sends Cortez off the ropes, into a back elbo... no, Todd ducks that, bouncing back into a clothesli... no, Todd ducks that too. Third time is the charm though and Landon goes up with a dropkick. Cortez doesn't duck this time, but he goes one better and grabs the top rope, stopping his momentum and causing Landon to crash empty-handed to the canvas. COLE Was that part of the 'grand scheme' too? Clutching his back, into a boot walks Landon, Cortez pulling him in for the RIOT ACT PLU... NO! Maddix immediately senses the danger and scrambles for a corner the moment Cortez lays a hand on him! COLE Maddix HAS to steer clear of that Riot Act Plus. We can't even begin to list the times in the past few months that Cortez has laid him out with that very move. COACH That move should be banned. Cortez doesn't waste time dwelling on it and rushes at Landon in the corner... ...but he gets a knee up, catching Cortez right in the ear! "OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Urban Legend staggers backwards as Maddix reaches back, grabbing the top rope and lifting himself up to the second floor. The knee caught Cortez flush and so busy is he trying to get some bearing back on where he is, Cortez doesn't notice Landon coming off the ropes, hooking the head and driving him straight down with a Flying DDT from the 2nd rope!! COACH There we go! COLE Finally, the former World Champion gets a grip on this match. And that may be all he needs... Rolling Todd over, Landon reaches back and hooks a leg... 1... 2... KICKOUT! "YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Only two but the momentum has turned. Landon climbs back up, watching Cortez try to use the ropes to get up and preventing him from doing so with a foot in the back, choking him on the bottom rope! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" 'Clean' break again by Landon, profusely apologising to Hebner as he gets on his case to keep it clean. He promises to do so as he pins Cortez against the ropes... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...laying into him with a knifedge chop. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and another. A straight right hand to the face then drops Cortez to a knee, again earning a reprimand from the senior referee of the OAOAST. "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" COACH I thought these people spoke French!? Trying not to let the chants get to him Landon stays on Cortez, shooting him off the ropes. This time Cortez does bounce back into a successful Dropsault, Landon straight on him with a cover... 1... 2... No! With a few words for Hebner, Landon pulls Cortez back up... *SLAP!* [i]"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"[/i] ...and gets lashed with a HARD knifedge! COACH Listen to the girls, just screaming for Landon! They love him the world over! *SLAP!* [i]"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"[/i] COLE Uh... Coach, I think that's LANDON screaming. Again the wailing Landon goes to the eyes though, buying himself time to rub at his reddening chest while Cortez clutches his eyes. Maddix looks angry now, taking it out on Cortez with a couple of forearms before shooing the ref out of the way and hitting the ropes. Wiping out his eyes, Cortez just about sees Landon coming in time to sidestep him though, guiding him into the ropes for an O'Connor Roll... 1... 2... Kickout by Landon, sending Cortez sprawling back towards the ropes. He stops his momentum and turns around, where Landon is waiting with a Hurri-Lanra... NO, CORTEZ SITS OUT WITH A POWERBOMB!! 1... 2... KICKOUT!! Cortez holds his head, thinking that was it. COLE Oh! So close! Megan has her heart in her mouth right about now. COACH Oh boy, does she ever! COLE :huh: Back up, Cortez peppers the legs with kicks again before double Maddix over with a thrust kick buried deep in the gut. The Urban Legend then hooks Landon up and drives him back with a Russian Legsweep, rolling through to his feet and immediately drops a leg across the throat for good measure. Not done yet though, Cortez jumps over Landon and backflips, with a Standing Moonsault... NOBODY HOME! Cortez belly-flops into the canvas and clambers back up, getting caught with the CUCARACHA CUTTER!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" COACH Welcome home, Cortez! Dusting his hands in satisfaction, Landon covers up Cortez... 1... 2... NO!! Landon can't believe it either and is much less shy about letting Hebner know about it. "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" COLE Look at that look on Landon's face. You think he may be getting that sinking feeling? That feeling that maybe, just maybe, he can't beat Todd Cortez after all? COACH What are you talking about, he beat him in Hawaii! COLE Not without a little 'assistance' from the ringpost he didn't. Having had his fill of arguing with the ref, Landon waves Cortez back to his feet ready to finish him off properly this time. Todd pulls himself up and Landon lunges in, throwing a kick. Sweeping the foot away, Cortez avoids it though, pushing Maddix into the ropes and hitting him with a Sitout Spinebuster dead centre of the ring! 1... 2... KICKOUT!! COLE The pace has not so much quickened as gone off the scale right about now. These two have just degenerated into throwing everything they've got, all the big moves in their repetoire, at each other in an attempt to get that three. Both men sense they're one move away from what they set out to achieve tonight. As Maddix climbs back up, Cortez waits on him in the corner. Past La Cucaracha he rushes, coming off the ropes at the side and lunging at Landon with the HOLLOW PPOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIII... ...NO! Maddix LEAPFROGS him! And he catches Todd with a schoolboy... 1... 2... No! First up, Cortez slides behind Maddix and pulls him down with a Backslide... 1... 2... No! Maddix is first up this time and he grabs Cortez by the head... [i]*SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!*[/i] ...unloading with Kawada kicks right to the bridge of The Urban Legend's nose! COLE That might not be a ringpost, but it may not matter tonight. After the third kick Landon waves his hands wildly, saying that he's going to finish it, running the ropes. Cortez surprises him by jumping up to his feet though, catching him with a hand around the throat for the Urban Assault! Not keen on that idea, Maddix attacks the arm with shots to the arm, before laying in a succession of elbows to the side of the head to break the goozle. Once he's free of the choke, Landon then hooks the head and runs for the ropes. He scales the turnbuckles... ...and gets thrown over the top, Cortez countering the Shiranui attempt... ...but MISSING a Superkick as Landon lands! Cortez slams on the brakes just short of colliding with Hebner, turning around into the waiting arms of La Cucaracha. A Complete Shot drives Cortez face-first into the mat, Landon rolling over on impact and hooking up the head for the dragon clutch!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" COLE LAND OF NOD!! He's got it locked in! COACH And when Cortez wakes up, he'll be back home. There's no place like home... there's no place like home... ther... Sitting back on the hold, Maddix realises too late how close he is to the ropes. No time to re-position now though, Maddix trying to put Todd away before he can force a break. Cortez wags a finger to show he's still very much in this match, despite the yells from the outside to quit by Megan, the yells from above him to quit from Landon. "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" "COR - TEZ!" Hearing the support of the crowd, Cortez reaches out... ...but he MISSES the bottom rope by inches, before Landon pulls back on the head! COACH Come on Cortez, give in! Why is he fighting the best thing to possibly happen in his career? COLE Because I don't think anyone but Landon honestly believes that it's a positive move! Cortez gets his forearms underneath him and manages to shuffle forward a couple of inches. And as Landon shakes his head, fearing the worst, he reaches out again... ...AND GRABS THE BOTTOM ROPE!!! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOU..." Breaking the hold angrily, Landon stomps away refuses to believe that Cortez would escape. So frustrated is he that he physically moves Hebner out of the way as he goes back after Cortez. Maddix slides out of the ring and brings Cortez with him, holding onto the arms and positioning himself around the ringpost. COLE Oh no, not this again! He put Cortez out with this in Honolulu! Maddix refuses to listen to Hebner's pleas to rethink what he's doing, gripping onto the wrists and preparing... COLE Come on damnit! What good is Cortez going to be to Cucaracha Internacional with a concussion!? ...yelling something at The Urban Legend before pulling him forward... ...NO! Cortez gets his foot up onto the post and BLOCKS a face-first collision with the steel!! "YYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!" Maddix's eyes bulge as Cortez continues to block, ripping his arms away from Landon's and chasing after him, rightfully pissed at his attempts to injure him. In scrambles Landon, waiting as Cortez slides in after him. Cortez ducks the right hand though, goozling Landon on the turn and HITTING THE URBAN ASSAULT!! COLE COUNT! 1... 2... 3- SHOULDER UP!! "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Crawling for the ropes, it seems Landon has had enough. Cortez, however, has not and grabs him by the waistband of the shorts to prevent him going anywhere in a hurry. COLE Uh-oh. I think Maddix may have made a HUGE mistake and he might be about to be read the Riot Act! COACH So injuring someone with a piledriver is okay!? Cortez drags the pleading Landon to his feet. A boot to the gut doubles him up, Cortez dragging him into a standing headscissors and... ...going nowhere, as MEGAN GRABS ONTO HIS FOOT!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" COLE Oh, what a surprise! That's the only counter Maddix knows. Able to kick Megan off though, Cortez drives a knee to the side of the head to keep Landon subdued and re-asserts the standing headscissors, tumbling overhead and... ...coming down hard, WITH LANDON ON TOP AS MEGAN GRABS [i]HIS[/i] FOOT!! COLE WAIT! 1... MEGAN CLINGS ON FOR DEAR LIFE! 2... AND HEBNER DOESN'T SEE IT! 3!!!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" COLE AW, you've got to be KIDDING me!! *DINGDINGDING!* Pulled out of the ring, Landon embraces his sweet Valentine and the woman that just saved his ass as "Megalomaniac" cues up again. Sitting up, Cortez holds the back of his head with the slow realisation of what has just happened. He turns and sees Landon and Megan already halfway up the ramp, Landon delighted and rubbing salt in the wounds by pointing out very clearly that he and Megan are once again his partners! BUFFER Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner... LLLAAAANDOOON "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXX!!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" COLE And as a result, Todd Cortez is now a part of Cucaracha Internacional! Unbelievable! Landon and Megan embrace again as Todd tries to contain his anger up in the ring. COACH Oh, what a homecoming! The OAOAST's very own Kanye West and Chris Martin! COLE No prizes for guessing which is which either. Climbing to his feet, Cortez hangs his head on the ropes as Landon waves from the aisleway. To his fans first and then to Todd, mouthing the words "WELCOME BACK, BUDDY!" as clearly as possible, which earns a cold stare from his on-again, off-again, now on-again tag team partner. COLE What a night in Montreal. A fantastic edition of HeldDOWN~!, albeit it with a somewhat downer of an ending. We promised the OAOAST's direct course would be dramatically altered tonight and it certainly has. Where do we go from here? Well, Detroit! Same time, different day, we'll see you next Thursday for the fallout from tonight. Goodnight everyone! *FADE OUT!*

Okay, just waiting on one more thing so the show'll be up later tonight, with a card for From The Fire. Looks like things have come together pretty well this time around, so early thanks to everyone who got something in. (Of course if anyone wants to throw together a promo between now and then they can do.)

No, but TERRA RYZING makes it. Have they ever referenced him being TR publicly before?

I was only kidding, but... ...PRIDE!

You make that sound like a bad thing! No, but if the plan did go ahead, there's no reason why people couldn't be booked in singles matches as one member of the team or the other. Which actually becomes another positive. In the long run, it'd mean writing less singles matches as one character (if that is infact what you want) all the time. MANSON's idea for one of the team being made the primary character would work for any time the division got too crowded. Plus we wouldn't want any potential change to become a distraction from the singles divisions, if everybody decided they were going to become a tag team at once then we'd have a problem. Obviously IF this plan went ahead, we'd still encourage people (and hope this idea would encourage some people) to create teams of two writers. But at the moment, we have VDN, MANSON/Alexander and that's it. So keep the opinions coming and we'll weigh everything up soon.