janusd

SWF AFTERSHOxXXxxxXxxXXXXxxX! Live, Friday, June 16th, from the Raccoon City Police Department in Raccoon City! (6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) IPB Image Send all promos/marked matches to janusd) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - INTERFED TAG TEAM MATCH The Dead Precedents (Bruce Blank and Bloodshed) vs. GPX (Scotty Static and Johnny Jax) ---> So the Oat Toasters want to crash our party, do they? Heckle and Jeckle over here think it's cute to show up at an SWF Pay Per View and shill their little fed? I don't think so, guys. I don't think so. At BlankShed's request, our people called their people (or was it the other way around?), and just like that, the SWF's very first Inter-Federation match was signed! At AftershoxxxxxXXxXXxxxXxXxX, The Dead Precedents, coming off a hard loss to Tom Flesher and GRAPPLAH~!, will now be directing their rage to their old OAOAST rivals! With the entire Federation's pride on the line, will Team SWF show these bozos who's boss? Or will Oat Toast's representatives shame us on our home turf?*** Rules: Standard tag team match. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Insane Luchador vs. Austin Sly ---> Look at that! I actually remembered that Luchador doesn't have an E on the end! Yay for me! In any event, these are two men who suffered hard losses at the PPV. These are also two men with title aspirations, which means they need to turn things around. Tonight, one of them will. Who wants it more? Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: janusd -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING PROMO: SWF World Heavyweight Champion Michael Stephens! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- *** in the event that OAT TOAST does indeed shame us on our home turf, the Midnight Carnival will be called in for another drive-by redecorating. You have been warned, GPX. You have been warned.***

And two more for Zed, who's still around in the background.

You remind me I should book one in the realm of just gods in general. If only for Janus to meet... well... Janus. </thinking of self>

If I remember rightly, Civil War is the name of the current Marvel comic storyline, regarding superheroes being registered with the government. The original banners (in the Comics folder of TSM) had Iron Man and Captain America each representing a side. And people went berserk with their own edits. Speaking of crappy edits! And this one goes out to Zed.

*smokes candy cigar* I love it when a plan comes together. *runs like hell*

And this is why you don't post when you're not completely awake! In consolation, have a picture.

Damnit, I love both Zyon and Cross' matches. The INDECISION.

I actually forwarded it to Raynor to put up, because any show is better than a no-show. Even if it's making Maddix MOTHERFUCKING EXPLODE~! \m/

You lost because you had Aecas act completely out of character by getting incredibly pissed off and heading for his scythe to use as a weapon (in a straight singles match, what?) If not for that segment, you would have won it, but I couldn't job the Brit to something that had such a glaring mistake. That's all, really.

SWF Lockdown Card @ Tiennamen Square - Beijing, China Date: 31st May 2006. Viewing Times: 6:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings. The SWF rolls into China like the tanks nearly rolled over the man, and comes to you LIVE from Tiananmen Square! Main Event - Tag Title Defence JJ Johnson © & Spike Jenkins © vs The New Doomtopians Description: JJ and Spike are the tag team champions who probably, really, don't like each other. Jimmy the Doom and his Doomtopian enforcer are two beers shy of a six pack when it comes to IQ, but somehow they've gotten themselves a tag title match. Will Johnkins retain or will Doomtopia take the tag titles away and replace them with belts of the sacred Doomtopian yak? Rules: Standard tag match - remember the tag ropes. Word Limit: 6000 Marker: chirs3 --- Hardcore Match Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © vs Manson Description: So, last show Landon, the self-proclaimed best in the wrestling business, failed to beat Zyon in a non-title match. This has made the Cockroach VERY ANGRY. And when Landon Maddix gets VERY ANGRY, people die! Here's to hoping the Cockroach blows off some steam in his battle against the power of Mansonosity, and doesn't kill someone. Rules: There are no rules, cowards! Word Limit: 5000 Marker: janusd --- International Title Defence Wildchild vs Aecas © Description: JJ Johnson held the International title. Wildchild wanted to take the title from JJ. Aecas beat JJ before Wildchild could. Thus, while having a grudge with JJ to be consummated at a later date, the Carribean Cruiser's eyes are on the gold. But can he pry it from the hands of the Briton who long ago took his tag title? Rules: Straight singles match. Word Limit: 6000 Marker: janusd --- Random Singles Match I Michael Stephens vs David Cross Description: Michael Stephens, the man many people knew as Toxxic, accepted the terms of engagement from Landon Maddix to face him at 13th Hour in yet ANOTHER Last Man Standing match. In the meantime, Mr Stephens is pitted against Mr Cross, so he can test his game and make sure he's up to scratch against the Cockroach come the time of the thirteenth toll. Rules: Singles match (of gaiety!) Word Limit: 5000 Marker: Justice --- House Rules: The May 31st Movement Tag Match! Bruce Blank & Bloodshed vs Zyon © & Akira "The Divine Wind" Kaibatsu Description: Once upon a time, there were tanks going through Tiennamen Square. Once upon a time, a man stood up against those tanks. Apparently someone pulled him out of the way, but this is only loose filler motivation for our tag-team match under house rules! Bruce Blank and his new partner Bloodshed go up against the lightning-fast Zyon and Akira, in one of the more interesting stipulations to involve actual wrestling! Rules: For this match, the ring will be sitting atop a tank that will be travelling in circles around Tiennamen Square. This tank will be flanked by two other tanks, each of which is a "corner" for one team. While two men wrestle in the ring, their partners stand on the tanks moving alongside the ring. Tags work the same way as always - lean out to tag your partner, and he jumps to the middle tank to the ring, while the man leaving now leaps to the "corner" tank. Standard tag rules otherwise, pinfall/submission win. God help you if you get thrown over the top rope. Word Limit: 6000 Marker: chirs3 --- Opener Random Singles Match II Tom Flesher vs Grendel Description: Flesher wants cruisers! Grendel is cruiser (ish)! They do BIG BATTEL! Rules: Good old cruiserweight rules! You know them by now. Word Limit: 4500 Marker: Evolution --- Send all marked matches, promos, death threats for the House Rules, etc to: chirs3

Muse - Time Is Running Out

Advisement: Won't be able to properly read and mark my matches until I'm home later this evening.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

Seconded.

I love Crowe.

Grendel vs Jay Hawke is up.

Show's up, enjoy. Card will be up when I can figure out what the hell to put together.

SWF Storm is live in FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE… *BANG! BANG! BANG! BAM-BAM-BAM-BOOOOOOOOOOM!!* The lights go up, the pyros go off and we are live in Angkor Wat! All around the ancient monument fans are cheering and chanting, and the cameras pan around showing the odd scene. “We’re here on SWF Storm, coming to you from Angkor Wat in Cambodia, and who the hell thought this was a good idea?” Mak Francis says from the commentary position. “What are you talking about?” Suicide King asks, “we’re here in one of the wonders of the world!” “Yeah, in a rainforest with freaking midges,” Mak mutters, “and here’s me with limited mobility.” “Hold still partner,” King soothes him, “I brought some Raid!” *FWWWSSSSSSTTTTTT!* “BASTARD!” Mak coughs. However, the charming on-air camaderie is not to be heard much longer, as a loud chant suddenly rolls out through the Cambodian night sky… “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” This is immediately followed by the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire and the huge portable Smarktron that’s been accompanying the SWF on their World Tour briefly whites out, then starts to fade down to black. As it does so jagged white letters flash up a familiar phrase, one word at a time: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ “Oh God,” Suicide King sighs, “not this idiot again…” However, the Suicide King seems pretty much alone in his distaste, as the assembled Cambodians are going mental now Storm is kicking off with one of the SWF’s biggest names! The tune starts to build, the bass drum kicking louder and louder, and the Smarktron is showing clips of matches that finally culminates in Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the move known then as the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the blast of red pyro- *BOOOM!!* -that announces the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman! The Smarktron is still showing his triumphs, but for all the achievements it is if anything a harsh reminder for the man now making his way out into the view of the crowd. “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” For all the fact that he’s grown his hair, stopped wearing the makeup and started using his own name again, Michael Stephens is still known for what he was before. “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” All the great accomplishments flickering up in two-second clips were done by a man universally hated, a man who looks quite different. “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” But the same man, nonetheless. “On Lockdown we saw Michael Stephens return to the ring when he beat Sean Davis one-on-one,” Mak Francis reminds viewers, “but on Smarkdown things took a turn for the bizarre when during the three-on-two handicap match between Stephens, his sister Amy and Sean Davis versus Tom Flesher and Charlie Matthews, Mike Van Siclen ran in out of nowhere and took both Stephens siblings out with a steel chair!” “And excellent work it was too,” King says approvingly. Michael Stephens has now reached the bottom of the entrance ramp set up in the Cambodian jungle and rolls under the bottom rope into the ring. He doesn’t bother doing his normal pose and igniting the turnbuckles; instead he calls for a microphone, and within a couple of seconds Funyon has obliged him. The man formerly known as Toxxic takes it, raises it to his mouth… and pauses. An odd expression crosses his face for a moment. Then he resumes the motion, and begins to speak: “Y’know, it sometimes seems like things never change,” the man from Nottingham begins. “I mean, I’ve been back in the SWF for two weeks now and already I’m out here at the top of the show, taking up time and shooting my mouth off. I’d really hoped I could avoid doing this sort of thing this time around, but a couple of things have happened that demand my attention, and I want to grab everyone when I’m certain that they’re watching.” He looks up and around at the crowd, as if to make certain that they are watching, then starts speaking again. “Since I’ve returned to the SWF I’ve been the victim of an unprovoked assault by Landon Maddix, I’ve had Mike Van Siclen attempt to perform cranial surgery on me with a blunt instrument, and I’ve seen Tom Flesher and Charlie Matthews give my sister a spike piledriver when the match we were involved in had already been called as a no-contest,” he states bluntly. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Exactly!” the straight-edger agrees, nodding as the crowd voice their displeasure, “I’ll be blunt about it; that fucking sucks! I don’t remember feeling this victimised when I was the World Champion and half the planet wanted my head! But anyway,” he continues, “I’m going to line up all these events and give the people concerned my opinions. Then hopefully,” Stephens says, although he doesn’t sound too hopeful, “we can work this out and I won’t need to bore you all anymore. “Firstly, Mike Van Siclen.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Mike,” Stephens says, talking over the crowd, “I know you don’t like me. Bloody hell, the feeling’s mutual. And I can understand that you’ve got incredibly bored dazzling the natives with your teeth in Shitsville, Idaho or wherever it was you crawled off to after I retired you. However, I want you to remember one thing; you asked for it, sunshine! It was you who put your career on the line to get a shot at my World Title. Your idea, not mine! So now you feel you can waltz back in to the SWF and take a swing at me, and not just at me, but at my sister, as some sort of payback?” The Briton’s face shows a mixture of anger and genuine puzzlement as he looks around, maybe half-expecting MVS to erupt from the crowd again. “I mean, what were you hoping to achieve? Revenge? Did you want to anger me into having another match with you? Believe me sunshine, I’ve dealt with that a lot lately. All I can say is that you’ll probably end up with my sister smashing those shiny white teeth down your throat, because Amy does not like getting hit in the head by strangers.” “But she’s OK with it from family friends?” Francis asks, puzzled by the possible logical extensions of Stephens’ statement. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” King remarks, “although what would surprise me is if that family had any friends in the first place.” “Next, Tom Flesher,” Stephens says, ignorant of the commentators. “FLESH-ER SUCKS!” “FLESH-ER SUCKS!” “Tom,” Stephens says, talking over the crowd chants again, “and yes, I’m talking to you rather than Grappler because I know you better. Tom, why did you go and take out Amy on Monday? Why? The match, such as it was, was over. I haven’t heard any evidence that you want to go after her Hardcore Gamer’s Title, so it’s not even like you’re trying to soften up the champion. The only thing I can think of is that you’re just indulging your misogynistic, arsehole-ish ways on the basis that, at that point in time, you could. “Well nuh-uh. Ain’t happening no more, sunshine.” “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” Michael Stephens’ face has changed. There is a certain stony determination visible there now, that of a man who has made a hard decision but one that he thinks is right. It’s far from the almost gleeful excitement that was present in the Toxxic of old where he seemed to feed off any adversity, whether from the crowd or from an opponent, but something has changed since his soft words of a couple of weeks ago. “Y’see Tom, I’m not prepared to let this one go,” the former World Champion informs all those listening, “because I know this isn’t limited to me or even Amy. You’ve already done the same thing to Akira. Now on a personal level, I’ll be honest, I don’t know Akira Kaibatsu and I’ve got no real reason to be bothered if you should seriously injure him, but it’s more the principle that’s at stake. Because as far as I can see you’re going around doing what you’re doing because you believe that you’re better, that you’re Superior to the rest of the Federation, and you can do whatever you bloody well please. “Odd thing, Tom. I remember us going one-on-one back in 2004, the only time we ever have. And I remember me beating you.” “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “You know what else I remember?” Stephens asks, raising his voice to be heard, “I remember a couple of weeks after that where it was you, me and Janus wrestling for the World Heavyweight Title. And guess what, I remember me getting the winning pinfall over you!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “So if I’m right and you really do just think that you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, to whoever you want simply because you think you’re better, then I appear to have found a flaw in your logic, sunshine!” Mike bites off. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you get your kicks at other people’s expense, and you should know from the past, when I’ve wrestled you and when I’ve wrestled for you while you were booking Smarkdown, that I can and will back it up in any ring, at any time, in any match you care to name!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “…but I’d rather not.” The atmosphere changes, from jubilant enthusiasm to confusion. Everyone heard Michael Stephens’ fighting talk, heard him declare his opposition to Tom Flesher’s callous treatment of the SWF roster, heard him proclaim his willingness to face Tom Flesher in the ring over it. Now, they’re not quite sure what they heard. “You see Tom, I don’t want to do it like that,” Stephens says, his voice pitched back to a normal level. “You’re a hell of a wrestler - a complete arsehole, but a hell of a wrestler - and I can still remember that one match we had together, one-on-one. It was one of the toughest of my career, and it wasn’t even for the World Title. It was just for bragging rights between us. If we get into the ring and go head-to-head again, I don’t want it to be because we’re at odds. I don’t want it to be because you’re throwing your weight around and risking injury to talented wrestlers for the hell of it, and I’m stepping in to stop you. I want it to be a wrestling match, pure and simple; someone on the booking committee deciding that they want to put us in the ring to see who’s best at that moment in time.” “I have to say, I’d like to see that,” Mak Francis admits. “He’s lying,” Suicide King responds. “I’m not!” “Not you,” the Gambling Man says, rolling his eyes, “him! Toxxic, or Michael Stephens, or whatever! He’s just trying to fool Tom, that’s all…” “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXX-IC…” With the prospect of a Flesher/Stephens match having been mentioned the crowd seem to feel that they should show who they’d support in the event of such a match. Stephens looks around as the chants grow again, then shakes his head slightly. Possibly sadly. “Finally… Landon Maddix.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Landon,” Stephens begins, “well, I’ve already said my piece on Landon. I’ve explained why I don’t want to face him again, why I’ve no intention of facing him again no matter what he says or does. I said that ten days ago on Lockdown, and as yet I’ve heard nothing from Landon on the matter. Nothing. Zip. I haven’t seen him, I haven’t read an interview with him. However,” the straight-edger continues, “all the rumours, all the whispers, all the gossip… that all points at one thing. That Landon still wants to get me in the ring, and he’s still figuring out how to do it.” Slowly, probably without thinking about it, one black-nailed hand comes up to rest on the back of Michael Stephens’ neck. He has a tendency to crack it from side to side in moments of stress or excitement, and it’s possible that there’s a slight ache there. On the other hand, it may be more likely that he’s thinking about what Landon Maddix wants to do to him; indeed, what he so very nearly did to Landon Maddix over a year ago. “Landon, something occurred to me the other day,” Stephens says, “just something I remembered. It was an interview you gave to Ben Hardy, I can’t be sure exactly when it was but I think it was just before Slay Ride, no more than a couple of weeks before you challenged for the World Title that I held at the time. In that interview you were playing with Ben; you talked about having a ‘dark side’ that no-one knew about, and you actually got him believing you before you let him know what a tool he was and that you’d just been messing with him. I’ll admit,” the Englishman continues, “I laughed at that interview; it made me chuckle. More because I couldn’t see how someone as goofy as you could be a threat to me, which admittedly was a mistake on my part,” he shrugs, “but also because the idea of Landon Maddix, Landon Maddix as some evil psychopath was just ludicrous. “Fast forward a year or so, and what do we see? Well, I’d say the situation has changed a little,” Stephens declares. “Landon, I don’t think you hold a grudge for over a year without a ‘dark side’. I don’t think you screw someone’s sister in an attempt to mess with their head without a ‘dark side’. I don’t think you beat someone’s sister so badly that you get her blood on the World Title you happen to own, and then carry that title belt around with the blood still on it, without a ‘dark side’.” The man formerly known as the Straight-Edge Sensation looks up, and his steel-grey eyes bore directly into the camera for a second before he looks away and continues his statement. “Landon, I know for a bloody fact that you don’t deliberately try and break someone’s neck without there being a dark side to you. I remember, back then, I had a little phrase I used to taunt you with. I used to call you ‘just a cheap imitation of me’. These days… these days I guess you’re not doing so bad. “So tell me. How does it feel to get up in the morning, go to the bathroom, look in the mirror and find me staring back at you?” It has gone quiet inside Angkor Wat. The crowd aren’t making much noise anymore, caught up in the honesty of Michael Stephens’ words. The man himself is looking down at the canvas, perhaps too caught up in his own thoughts to pay much attention to the TV cameras anymore. “Landon, you never used to be like this. Goofy; yes. Annoying; yes. When it came down to it, a pretty good wrestler; yes. But you never had the sort of callous disregard for the safety of others that you’ve been displaying recently. I mean c’mon,” the Englishman says, the ghost of a smile returning briefly, “you’re Landon Maddix! You hit people with baguettes in hardcore matches! Is that really such a bad legacy to have? “Maybe it is, from your point of view. Maybe you really aren’t going to rest until you’ve somehow got me where you want me,” the straight-edger nods mournfully, “and believe it or not, I can relate to that. It’s exactly how I felt two years ago. So I’ll give you one warning now, and please don’t take this the wrong way; it’s not meant to be patronising, it’s not meant to be antagonistic, it’s simply because at the moment, I’ve been there and you haven’t. “The simple fact is that to get rid of me, to truly eliminate me from your life, you’ll have to become just as bad, just as hard, just as cruel as I ever was. Maybe you think you can live with that. I have a feeling that you’ll be proved wrong… and not by me.” Michael Stephens looks up, looks around at the subdued crowd, and a grimace twists his face. “OK, I’m done. Go to commercials or something. I’m outta here.” And with that he drops the microphone, rolls under the bottom rope and heads for the backstage area. As he walks up the ramp between the fans he looks to neither right nor left, and disappears from view without looking back. FADE OUT

“The next match is a non title bout, scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit. And it is tonight’s MAIN EVENT!!!” Funyon welcomes the home audience back from their momentary daze that took place during the commercial break. In the background stands the extraordinary Angkor Wat and to the sides remain thousands of cheering fans from all over the world who all gathered to Angkor, Cambodia (Cheap pop!) to witness a show for the ages!!! A show that will entertain you from beginning to end. A show that will transcend the last, leaving the onlookers gasping for air… …And yes Joseph Peters will continue making money off the ratings. “Here we go King. The match that could very well transform you from the Gambling Man to the Highly Stressed Individual that sits next to the Franchise, baby!” Mak enlists some of King’s own medicine on to him, “Now with that being said. This will be Landon’s first match since becoming the SWF World Champion at Battleground. Could he have some ring rust to knock off?” “Of course he does, Mak! However, no matter how much I dislike that insect he will easily knock the ring rust off in the first two minutes of the bout, which means that Zyon will more than likely get annihilated three minutes into the match.” The Gambling Man refuses to ignore Landon’s skill inside the ring. Mak though has a competitive opinion, “King, I think you may be underestimating the Unique Youth. He is the reigning Cruiserweight Champion who has been going at full speed since Battleground. No doubt facing the World Champion in a non title bout could cause some nervousness. But like you said, he’ll easily knock the butterflies away two minutes into the match. And then it’s anyone’s guess from there on out.” “I’M BORN…” …The first familiar phrase flashes across a man made Smarktron constructed with trees and a cheap screen. Building up to a dramatic baby face entrance, “Vitamin” by Incubus blares over the speakers that were bought at a local Best Buy back in the states. Thumping across the land, one of Brandon Boyd’s early vocals lead the crowd into a massive uproar… “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHAHHAHAHHHH!!” …Oh wait it’s not the music that sends them in a frenzy. It’s the emergence of the Cruiserweight Champion himself!! Saluting the audience with a two fingered salute, Zyon sprints down the ramp with the spacious smiles of his enthusiasts reflecting in his gold! “First hailing from Elkhart, Indiana. Weighing in at 200 lbs. He is the REIGNING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION….The Unique Youth, Zyyyyyyyyyyyyon!!!” Funyon bellows over the land as Zyon rolls into the ring. Energetically ascending the second rope, the youth gazes at the people surrounding him before tossing the “X” symbol into the air, paying homage to his epic encounter with Hollywood Spike Jenkins. Breaking the “X” apart, Zyon bends his elbows into a familiar taunt that emits arrogance from someone who openly drowns in the spotlight. “The kid looks ready. I don’t want to lead anyone on here, but if Zyon wins, we could be looking at the new number one contender for the World Title. Just saying…” There is one person located in the great land of Cambodia that would take offense to Mak’s harmless comment. "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" The typical arrogant warning of the incoming cockroach rings out, which quickly becomes a source for mass jeering. "Tell me exactly, what am I supposed to do Now that I have allowed you, to beat me! Do you think that we could play another game Maybe I could win this ti-ime." “The Game” by Disturbed blares over the nearby speakers as the exquisite Megan Skye reveals herself as she struts through the black curtain that blocks off the backstage and the wide jungle behind us. Waving her hands around, the female valet hangs on the next man that wonders through the curtain… “BOOOOOOOOOO!” …That man would be Landon Maddix. With one arm wrapped around his dame, Landon extends his left arm soaking in the jeering that has come to echo in the background of La Cucaracha’s entrance. “And his opponent. Hailing from Huron, South Dakota. Weighing in tonight at 224 lbs. The REINGING SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, LANON LA CUCARACHA MADDIX!!!!! “He’s got the girl! He’s got the gold! He’s got the attitude! Landon Maddix is on top of the world right now!” “That’s what a rational person would think, Mak. That scumbag on the other hand continues to torment himself over Toxxic…who isn’t even Toxxic anymore. He should be living like a star, no an anti social joke with a pretty girl. If I was in his shoes…” King is going on a “back in my day” tirade that doesn’t need the time of day to air across what should be a great match. Strutting down the ramp, shewing off the few fans that want a simple hand clap, Landon leaps on to the ring apron as the lovely Megan Skye takes her sweet time to open the ropes for her man. Bounding into the ring, Landon shows off that natural charisma that brought him to the dance as he spins around, showing off a title superior to the Unique Youth’s. “You know Mak, I seriously doubt that if JJ Johnson was champ that we would see this type of showboating.” “That would be correct. He would however, use the title to justify a reason to dig up the corpses of famous leaders of the world to prove that he is indeed the World Champion. Hell, he would probably get ole’ Honest Abe to tap out to a buffalo sleeper chained with a Boston crab.” “King that’s not even possible.” “Don’t tell JJ that.” Both men untangle their respective titles, handing them off to the exiting Funyon. Disrobing the knee lengthen jacket, Landon lowers his entrance attire to his beautiful yet dangerous manager while Zyon stretches in the opposite corner. With all the surplus action out of the way, referee Ken Masters looks at both competitors before calling for the bell! DING DING DING! A minor eruption of cheers from the crowd fill the area surrounding the temple as the crafty cockroach exits his corner with a huge grin across his face. Strutting to the middle of the ring, Landon makes sure to point out to the Unique Youth that he doesn’t stand a chance… *CRACK!* …And with a forearm shot, Zyon respectively disagrees. Rubbing his chin with a calm exterior, Landon mouths toward the youth, “That was a free one.” Wondering over to the center of the ring where the Cruiserweight Champion stands stationary, Landon wallops the youth with an open handed smack! *SMACK!* Turning toward his female companion, the New Generation arrogantly winks at Megan as Zyon comes bursting back with a wild right hand! Crushing the atmosphere with his closed fist, Zyon can only watch on, discouraged by the fact that he missed Landon by a mile! Using his right foot to spin his body around, the World Heavyweight Champion CLOCKS the youth with a perfect European uppercut! Staggering away from the New Generation, Zyon tries to shake the cobwebs out as Landon charges in for the attack… …And foolishly falls into a hip toss. Clinching on to La Cucaracha’s arm, Zyon kneels down applying an uncharacteristic arm bar. “See that King, Zyon was obviously rocked by that European uppercut, and has found a way to keep Landon in check while he attempts to collect himself. Good strategy by the young Cruiserweight Champion.” Mak explains. Pulling Landon back to his feet, Zyon Irish whips the New Generation across the ring. Bouncing off the opposite ropes, Landon charges in with a kitchen sink knee attack aimed at the sternum of the man who whipped him across the ring. Halting the attack with the palm of his hands, the youth slides back a few steps before getting stunned by a forearm to his unguarded face. Noticing the destruction in his opponent’s excited eyes, Landon pulls the youth into a collar and elbow tie up. “See that Mak, Landon is a pussy. He was controlling the match, but he probably got paranoid by the youth’s eyes or something equally stupid, and locked on a collar and elbow.” King continues his anti Landon commentary. Sneaking behind the youth, the almost technically sound La Cucaracha traps the youth’s arm against his back with a reverse hammerlock. Tapping his shoulder in a feverish attempt to get the blood flowing, Zyon reminds Landon that he’s not training with Jay Hawke or JJ Johnson, two men who could counter the reverse hammerlock with a go behind or something equally technical. Zyon on the other hand, flings his elbow backward, snapping Landon’s head back with a sharp elbow to the face. Megan cries out, hoping that her boyfriend’s face isn’t squash by the end of the match. Lucky for Ms. Skye, the youth initiates his spotty offense, as he takes off for the ropes perpendicular to where Landon is standing. Springing off the middle rope, Zyon latches on to the New Generation’s outstretched arm, tossing him to the mat with an overly flashy arm drag. Rolling directly back to his feet, Landon takes a step forward before getting blasted in the face by a Zyon right hand. Swiftly, Zyon traps the World Champion in a front face lock, taking him up and over with a snap suplex that is followed by the cover! ONEKICKOUT! Shoving his cruiserweight opponent off, the New Generation rises back to his feet just in time to catch a right forearm to the face! Winding up for a bigger blow, Zyon’s action is cut off by Landon’s knee that plunges into his sternum. Applying a front face lock on his energetic opponent, Landon wiggles his hips to the delight of the females in the audience…who all catch an evil stare from Megan Skye. Spinning toward the mat, La Cucaracha drives Zyon’s neck into the canvas with a swinging neckbreaker. Popping up to a seated position, the youth clutches the back of his neck as Landon settles down by holding the Unique Youth hostage in a seated chin lock! Grinding his forearms into the youth’s facial epidermis in a crossface manner, Landon eventually works his way around, applying a cravate to the seated youth. Forcing Zyon to his feet with the ¾ headlock, Landon flips the youth over with a snapmare as he bores the crowd with another chin lock…and loving every second of it. “BOOOOOOO!” “These people really hate Landon, who so far has ignored his own style in favor of the one taught to him during his training with Johnson and Hawke.” “God he’s such a pussy.” Yeah that was King. Repeating his earlier process, Landon lifts Zyon back to his feet with the dreaded ¾ headlock, but this time the youth uses the back of his hand to club out of the rest hold. Pushing off of his arrogant opponent, Zyon takes a step away from the World Champion…only to get yanked back down to the mat by his hair! Allowing the Unique Youth to rise once again into a seated position, Landon lowers himself as if he’s ready to rape the youth with another fucking cravate. However, the Next Generation spikes his knee into spine of the youth, eliciting an airless gasp from his seated opponent. Pivoting his foot away from Zyon, Landon shoves the same foot forward, striking the youth in the same spot with a soccer styled punt to the back. Leaving the youth to clutch his back, Landon takes off for the opposite ropes, bouncing off of them, and snapping Zyon’s neck forward with a Hennig style neck snap! “Great combination of moves by Landon. Two strikes stunned the youth while the neck snap put an exclamation point on his dominance so far.” Mak points out that Landon has kept the Unique Youth in check…so far. Gripping the youth by his neck, Landon throws the youth in a nearby turnbuckle only to have Zyon explode out with a devastating forearm that sends the New Generation stumbling. Throwing the slowest kick EVER at Landon’s side, Zyon looks less than perturbed when the New Generation stops the strike by trapping his leg against his side with his arm. Hopping around on one foot with Landon staring back at him with a wide grin, the Unique Youth spins around tossing his other foot toward Landon’s side, which also becomes encaged with the World Champion’s free arm. Proceeding to hook the bent over cruiser by the waist, Landon hoists the youth backward for a wheelbarrow suplex attempt. However, due to his both his legs being free, Zyon grabs on to Landon’s head with his right arm, kicking both legs out, and driving the World Champion to the mat with a bulldog counter!! “YES…err…I mean. Figures Zyon could only counter a move with some sort of overly spotty maneuver than is the same as it’s regular counterpart.” The Gambling Man stays in spot hating mode. Irritating wrestling purists around the world, Zyon allows the crafty veteran to rise back to his feet. Visually alarmed by the youth’s ability to turn the match around, Landon soon realizes that he has to end this as quickly as possible… …Which is really hard to do when you can’t spot your opponent in the ring. With the clues that range from the fans cheering to Megan Skye blatantly giving Zyon’s position away, Landon twirls around to see two feet descending on him…and then into him! Blasting the World Champion with a missile dropkick, the youth drops down on to the World Champion for the cover… ONE! TWO! Kickout! Lifting the World Champion back to his feet, Zyon delivers a few blunt strikes to Landon’s youthful features before taking off for the ropes again. Witnessing the control of the match flinging from his grasp, Landon takes a monumental step forward, lifting the charging youth with his palms, tossing him high into the air. Swimming in the atmosphere for a moment, the Cruiserweight Champion extends his feet once again, as he comes crashing down on Maddix with another captivating dropkick… …Well it’s captivating, but useless when Landon steps upward toward Zyon’s spread out body, away from his legs. Pushing down on the youth, the Next Generation crushes Zyon with a high impact back breaker that sends the youth bouncing to the canvas. Swaying around on the mat due to the pain in his back, Zyon feels the weight of Landon’s hand. A hand that forces him back to his feet. A hand that delivers a vicious chop to the youth’s chest. Very little padding comes from the shirt he wears as Zyon is sent back peddling from the stinging strike. Aggressively applying a front waist lock on the youth, Landon hurls the Cruiserweight Champion overhead with a belly to belly suplex! Crawling toward his fallen opponent, Landon attempts his first cover of the match. ONE! TWO! Kickout! Pushing the World Champion off, Zyon rolls back to his feet just to be immediately trapped in a front face lock. Persisting to keep the pace of the match at a favorable speed, Zyon doesn’t mope around while held in another rest hold. Instead, he lifts La Cucaracha into the air for a Northern Lights suplex counter! Now it’s Landon’s turn to infuriate his opponent. Shifting his superior weight down on to the youth, Landon finds himself safely on the mat with Zyon struggling to break free of the front face lock. The youth’s lungs are slowly deflating, as Landon looks out into the crowd and with a smirk yells, “I GOT HIM NOW!” … Once again, Zyon looks to please the fans while proving the Next Generation wrong by lifting him back into the air. This time the youth stammers forward toward the ropes with Landon horizontally in front of him. Thrashing about on top of the youth, Landon expects to land cautiously to the canvas once again… …Too bad for La Cucaracha that he didn’t make a wish. Dropping the World Champion across the top rope, crotch first, Zyon easily pulls out of the front face lock as Landon writhes in pain. Megan Skye uses her trusty towel to cover her distraught expression, as La Cucaracha Mountain will never be the same again. Springing off the second rope, Zyon leaps into the air, smashing Landon in the face with a sensational back kick to the face! Zyon safely lands on all fours in the ring…while Landon isn’t so lucky. Slipping off the top rope, Landon’s landing is immensely rough as his legs clip the ring apron, and his face smashes into the thinly padded floor!!! “YYYYEEAHAHAHAHAHHHH!” And the people love it. “Finally, a spotty attack that actually worked in Zyon’s favor…and mine. Did you see Landon’s face bounce off the floor. Megan you could always come home to me.” That last statement gets a cold stare from Landon’s female valet who looks like she could puke at the thought of sleeping with the Gambling Man. Checking on her man who could have a broken…a broken face, Megan Skye actually helps the Next Generation back to his feet due to the ref’s count already starting. FIVE SIX Momentarily bored, Zyon sprints foreword for one of his dazzling dives over the top rope, but then he notices the not so innocent female standing in front of Landon… …And foolishly applies the brakes. “Megan has just inserted herself into the match ladies and gentlemen. I’m surprised it took this long. I can’t say I would condone Zyon smashing her into oblivion, but sooner or later she’s going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Count on it.” Can Mak see into the future? Sliding out to the outside, Zyon gets into a verbal confrontation with Landon’s lady friend. Cowardly hiding behind Miss Skye, the Next Generation is derailed by a multitude of strong jeering from the crowd. Sick of playing games with the World Champion’s woman, Zyon takes a step forward, grabbing at Landon. *SMACK!* So Megan finds it in her jurisdiction to smack the taste right out of Zyon’s mouth, along with bad mouthing the reigning Cruiserweight Champion! “That jezebel…” “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…Oh my god. Mak you did not just say that.” “What?” “Nothing. You just made my night. Well technically this fine Cambodian will make my night a little bit later. But that was a hoot.” “King, other than you’re usual ramblings about the random slut you’re hanging out with after the show, I have absolutely no clue what you are talking about.” “Random slut? Come Mak. That’s not a good way to talk about your mom.” “Zing King. Really. Zing.” The Franchise deadpans as he tries to watch the main event. Brushing the hard smack away, Zyon proceeds after Landon who surprises the youth with a right hand. Skipping away from the battlefield, Megan cheers her man on from the other side of the ring. Realizing the outside is no longer his environment; Landon rolls back into the ring with Zyon in hot pursuit. Falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book, Zyon is quickly bombarded by a series of stomps before he is even completely in the ring. Fighting through the multiple stomps, Zyon unleashes a double leg take down on the veteran who smoothly locks his legs around the youth’s waist. Inexperience continues to blind the Unique Youth who lowers a bomb on to Maddix, to which Landon easily dodges. With his opponent open for any sort of strike, Landon instead opts to apply a front face lock, completing the Wet Cement combination. Noticing the struggle of the youth, the audience no longer finds the rest holds to be boring…. …They find them to be threatening. “Zyon fell right into wet cement. For the love of god, has he not watched a tape on Tom motherfucking Flesher?” “Probably not King. Though I’m sure he owns the entire collection of Wildchild’s matches.” The Franchise makes a fictional connection with Zyon’s lack of technical game to his aerial game. Struggling to push himself out of the Wet Cement hold, Zyon angrily pounds the mat with his fist, foolishly wasting precious energy. Landon on the other hand looks to be in complete control, albeit a bit uncomfortable as he dominates the youth with his technical ability as opposed to any other ability Landon has, which ranges from aerial to knitting. Figuring his way out with trial by error, the Unique Youth ascends back to his feet, spreading his legs far apart, gaining a center of balance. The body scissors applied to the youth is less effective, but he’s not out of the water yet. Now that the New Generation’s desperate to keep the Tom Flesher specialty cinched in, Landon begins to tighten the glorified choke even more. The effect of the choke is void as Zyon uses his hands to push down on where Landon’s shoulders should be. And well they aren’t where they should be. After a little bit of feeling around, the youth tries to push Landon’s shoulders to the mat, and this time comes out successful with a pin attempt. ONE! Pfft, not even close. The New Generation easily lifts his shoulder off the mat, which fits into Zyon’s off the wall plan. Landon through all his years wrestling is still a bit shaky on the technical style, which appears in full form when he pops his right shoulder off the canvas… …The one that has Zyon’s head caged between his arm and his side. No longer pinned to the mat, the youth violently pulls backward…FREEING HIMSELF FROM THE WET CEMENT! “YEEEEAAAAHHHH!!” The crowd erupts for the simple breaking of a rest hold…this match has gained overness. Unhooking the body scissor, La Cucaracha floats behind the fatigued youth, pulling him down with a school boy roll up! ONE! TWO!! THREKICKOUT! A large sigh of relief pours from the area surrounding the Angkor Wat as Zyon sloppily hurries back to his feet. Cool, calm, and collective would describe the World Champion who boots the youth in the stomach, forcing him down into a standing head scissor, applying a double under hook in the process! “He’s going for the Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” “Mak you fool. It’s the Maddix Shock Syndrome. Toxxic doesn’t exist anymore remember? All we got was Michael Stephens.” “Who Landon will equally get his ass kicked by. Count on…” “Count on what? How many times you have counted Landon out and he’s won. Every time you count that jackass out he comes back and wins, which pisses me off. Stop underestimating him!” The Gambling Man actually makes a good point about the cockroach. Wiggling free, Zyon busts out from the double under hook, placing the palm of his hands on the thighs of La Cucaracha. Lifting with his legs, the Unique Youth lunges backward, hurling Landon down on to the canvas with a back body drop! Collecting himself on the mat, Landon is unexpectingly damaged by the youth who springs off the middle rope with his Half Moon quebrada, crushing Landon with his weight and the cover!!!! ONE! TWO! “He could have him…” “Mak what did I just tell you!” THKICKOUT! Sweat pouring out from his pores due to his using much more energy than usual to escape the variety of rest holds he’s been put in. Hoisting Landon back to his feet while the World Champion clutches his sternum, Zyon places his cruiserweight opponent on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position. Launching the New Generation up and over his shoulders, Zyon drops to the mat with both of his knees extended as gravity hurls the wide eyes World Champion sternum first across the youth’s knees! “YEEEAAAAHHHH!” The Cambodian audience goes ballistic as Zyon rolls the gasping champion over on to his back for the pin. ONE! TWO!! KICKOUT! Thrusting his shoulder off the canvas, Landon Maddix refuses to die. Looking to stay away from the rest hold and keep the match at his pace, Zyon Irish Whips the crafty veteran into the far turnbuckle. Colliding back first with the unexposed turnbuckle, Landon throws his arms up to guard his face as the youth dives at the New Generation with a shoulder thrust to the wide open sternum! With La Cucaracha doubled over, Zyon feels a certain comfortable level rise as he stupidly pumps his fist at the audience. “YEAAHHHHH!” Garnering the expected cheers, Zyon is ABSOLUTELY SHOCKED when the World Champion sweeps Zyon off his feet with a double legged takedown. Stacking the youth on his shoulders, Landon falls on to Zyon for the legal cover. ONE! And once he puts his foot on the ropes and Megan comes galloping over to hold them down, the legal cover becomes the feared illegal variant. TWO! It’s only cheating if you get caught… …THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! … … It only works if you win. And Landon DID NOT win. Zyon kicked out! “I swear to god that is the closest to a three without skipping the number altogether and going straight to four.” The Gambling Man is pleased to see the spot monkey kickout. Shaking his head, Landon growls at the ref who he believes has a rotator cuff problem due to the believed slow count. Both men find themselves back to their feet as Landon snaps the youth backward with a DECAPITATING European uppercut. Following the Unique Youth backward, Landon doubles the youth over with a toe kick to the sternum. Latching his hand on to Zyon’s long hair, La Cucaracha brings the PURO with swift unprotected kicks to the youth’s face. “Kawada kicks to the face of Zyon. They are quite weak on their own. But as you can see, when the user uses six to seven, it can rock the opposition.” Mak brings the PURO knowledge. “Well at least those are worth it. I’ll never forgive Hawke for teaching Landon the damn cravate. It’s like selling a gun to whoever is currently public enemy number one.” With one lasting slicing kick, Landon unlatches his hand that was around the youth’s hair. Gazing at the youth who stammers backward due to the stunning kicks, Landon takes a step toward his opponent, leaping into the air, wrapping his legs around the head of his opponent, and snapping him over with a hurricanrana. Oh excuse me, HurriLANrana. Nonchalantly, Landon reaches back for the youth’s legs, who uses those legs to roll Landon on to his shoulders with a sunset flip pin without the actual sunset. ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Smashing the youth’s head with his feet, Landon rolls backward back to his feet as Zyon does the same. His eyes blurring due to the waterfall of sweat rolling down his face, Zyon either misses the attack entirely or Landon beats him to the punch. Either way the youth is unable to block the charging Maddix who leaps into the air with a spinning gamengiri kick that lands FLUSH on the opposition!!! *CRRRRACK!* Sprawling to the canvas with his hands eclipsing the slight bruise that forms over his face, Zyon pulls himself back to his feet. Landon though is in front of the youth, meeting him with a… …Good lord… …Another caravate. “MADDIX SUCKS! MADDIX SUCKS! MADDIX SUCKS!” The vocal Cambodians chant in their native language, which becomes of such high technology, is instantly translated to English. Angered by Landon’s brilliant strategy that he continues to pound into the youth, Zyon tries to maneuver himself away from Landon, who reels his back in. The Unique Youth though used his step away to gain a moment to think clearly. Through his thought came the counter to the ¾ headlock. Pulling himself away once again, Zyon uses the JJ Johnson counter as he swipes Landon’s arm away, leading to both men standing back to back to each other. Zyon, the quicker of the two warriors, twirls around, wrapping the New Generation in a reverse waist lock. Just as Zyon applies the reverse waist lock, Landon effortlessly counters with a standing switch, holding the youth in contempt with a reverse waist lock of his own. Refusing to waste as much time as the innocent Cruiserweight Champion, La Cucaracha tosses the youth backward with a release German suplex that sends the youth crashing to the canvas… …Feet first. Achieving the element of the advantage, Zyon takes a step forward, but doesn’t go anywhere with Megan Skye holding on to his foot. “LET GO!” The youth hastily shouts and to everyone’s surprise, the heelish female releases Zyon who turns back toward Landon… *CRACK!* …And his European uppercut. The force from the strike sends the youth leaping dramatically over the top rope and on to the ring apron. Rotating his jaw in an attempt to make sure everything is correctly connected, Zyon pushes himself back to his feet as Landon proceeds forward. Lunging at the youth, Maddix looks to strike the youth down with great vengeance and furious anger, but Zyon is all fuck that noise as he breaks the mold with an unprotected head BUTT that sends La Cucaracha staggering backward with a yelp! Shaking away the cobwebs, Zyon aims to regain control of the match with what he has become known for. Flash. With Megan sneaking up on the young Cruiserweight Champion, Zyon springs off the top rope, narrowing escaping Landon’s female valet who was reaching for the youth’s foot once again. Swimming through the atmosphere, the youth forms a superman taunt as Landon begins to recuperate from having his face smashed in by someone’s skull. Grinding his teeth with his eyes completely bloodshot, the New Generation realizes that one other person has head BUTT him worse. Fuckin’ Toxxic. However, no amount of fury can save Landon with his own personal brush of decapitation as Zyon CLOBBERS him with his flashy version of the springboard forearm smash!!! Landing on top of the dazed champion, Zyon reaches back and hooks the leg for another pin attempt. ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Springing away from the World Champion, Zyon slaps the canvas with the frustration that comes with getting a near fall on the World Heavyweight Champion. During the youth’s minor tirade against the wrestling ring, he notices that Landon has recovered from the high impact forearm faster than he imagined was possible. Then it hits the youth like a Danny Williams elbow. He’s fighting the best in the business. The butterflies in his stomach return at the worse possible time. In a feverish attempt of dispel the nervousness inside him, Zyon bounces off the near ropes, lunging toward Landon, and wrapping both feet around the World Champion’s waist. Instinctively, the Next Generation pulls the youth up for a wheelbarrow suplex, and Zyon once again, wraps his arm around Landon for the bulldog. “YEAH….GASP!” A hush looms over the energetic crowd as Zyon’s youth energy might have gotten the best of the Cruiserweight Champion, as Landon remains stationary. Fastening both arms around the waist of his cruiserweight opposition, the New Generation MURDERS the Unique Youth with a BACKDROP DRIVVVVVVVEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! “GAHAHAHAHAAHAHHHHHHAHAHHH!!” The crowd launches into a riotous battlecry as Zyon’s neck his dismantled by Landon’s awesome counter. Rolling the limp cruiserweight on to his back, Maddix leans on the youth, pushing both shoulders to the mat. ONEEEEEE! TWWWWWOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOO!!!” “HE KICKED OUT!!!!” Both announcers shill in unison. Blistering Landon’s ears is the massive cheering from the crowd who actually believe that the youth can beat the World Heavyweight Champion. At the beginning of the night only a fool and a cripple would think that. Now even the crafty veteran and his vixen on the outside are sweating bullets. Landon’s burning eyes reveal a desperate champion fighting for the victory in a NON TITLE bout. He may be cocky, brash, and a bit on the loony side. But he’s currently the best in the business. And nobody can take that from him. “Landon’s good, but Flesher’s better.” King just took it from him because he can. Lifting the spaghetti legged youngster off the canvas, Landon hesitantly applies a front face lock, setting up another Wet Cement attempt perhaps? “Landon looks like his ego couldn’t take Zyon countering the Wet Cement again. He’s stalling…” The Franchise trails off. Leaping to wrap his legs around the stunned Cruiserweight Champion, the Next Generation overshoots the body scissors as Zyon’s knees give out, lowering the youth. Reaching deep to pull out some of that FIGHTING SPIRIT, Zyon pulls himself back up with Landon sitting on his shoulders. Shaking his head, disproving of the youth’s next attack, La Cucaracha has just become some Chinese man’s dinner as the youth exterminates the insect with a POWERBOMB…FOOL! A smile washes over those in the stands as Landon’s head bounces off the canvas. The smile turns into a ruckus cheer as Zyon falls on Landon for the cover. ONEEEEEE! TWOOOOOOO! THRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE! Could it be? Nope. “YEEEAAAAHHHH!” The audience erupts as referee Ken Masters holds up two fingers. Those two fingers alone almost force the youth into tears as he drops to one knee payable by fatigue. Using most of his strength to pull himself back to his feet, Landon’s eyes droop to the point that he looks like he could collapse at any moment. Lifting himself back to his feet, Zyon bounces off the near ropes, sliding under the fatigued beaten World Champion, latching on to Landon’s arm on the way through… “He’s looking to apply a pump handle which leads to you know what King.” “The end.” “Yep.” King, Mak, and Landon both understand this fact. For this reason, La Cucaracha does INDEED collapse on Zyon, as he is halfway through the slide. Sitting on his back, Landon reaches over for the dragon sleeper to send Zyon on a one-way trip to the LAND OF NOD! Twisting his body slightly, the youth brings the technical experience he has gained during his time in the fed, as he clutches Landon’s arm, dragging him to the side with an arm bar! The crowd comes to a boiling point as the youth tries his damnest to transition the arm bar into an arm scissor for the Gouki Crossface! Sensing the danger, Megan leaps on to the apron just as Landon rolls through with the counter. Back on his feet, Landon turns to order Megan off the apron rather than attacking the distraught youth. Even the best make mistakes. With his attention diverted, Landon is sent crashing into his manager due to a Zyon shove. The vixen crashes to the floor, gaining sympathy from NOBODY! Staggering away from the ropes, Landon turns into the Unique Youth who scoops the champ off the mat…before spiking him back into the canvas with the regular Aero Driver! “Aero Driver Beta. Quicker than the 911, and a perfect set up for…” Mak trails off… Zyon finishes the Franchises sentence as he ascends the top rope with the nearby Cambodians ALIVE on their feet. Wasting little time, Zyon leaps off the ropes, reaching for the stars as he twists 120 degrees, crashing on to Landon Maddix with the spectacle knows as the…FINAL FLASH!!!!!!! ONEEEEEEEE! TWOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! “Vitamin” plays over the sound system, but you wouldn’t know it as the Cambodian audience nearly breaks the sound barrier with their cheering and chanting. Megan sits on the floor, bewildered by the fact that they lost. “The winner of the contest in 47 minutes and 39 seconds, THE UNIQUE YOUTH! ZZZZZYYYYOOOOONNNNNNNNN!!!!” Funyon bellows under the crowd’s mighty cheer as Zyon exits to the outside with Landon remaining in the ring. “Mak that spot monkey won the match be persevering under the pressure of facing the World Champion. I guess Landon never realized he was under the same pressure.” Falling over himself as he wonders up the ramp, dragging his Cruiserweight Title, Zyon looks back at Landon and Megan who remain in the ring confused by what just went down. Score one for the good guy.

"Tox-Michael!" Joe Peters corrected himself just in time, but Michael Stephens doesn't seem to notice the near-slip. The man formerly known as the Straight-Edge Sensation has just entered Peters' office after the SWF's Head Booker sent for him. He seems somewhat distracted as he sits down in the chair across the desk from Peters, who is swivelling slightly from side to side in what could be interpreted as a vaguely nervous fashion. "Listen, Mike," Peters says in what is undoubtedly meant to be a reassuring tone of voice, "I saw what happened out there. Now, I know some people are wondering why I didn't send Janus out to stop Maddix, but-" "-you knew that Maddix would just break Amy's neck if Janus got too close?" Stephens finishes for him, not really looking at Peters. Joe stops, then nods in agreement. "Exactly. I thought it best to let it run its course, then deal with it afterwards." "So what did you have in mind? For 'dealing with it', I mean?" Stephens asks, apparently studying the edge of the desk very intently. "Well... I can state absolutely and categorically that there will absolutely not be any match taking place at 13th Hour between you and Landon Maddix," Peters say firmly. That makes Michael Stephens look up. "Seriously?" "Yup." "What happened to the 'go kick his arse and make me money' vibe?" "Hmph. Yeah, well," Peters backs and fills, "there's a difference between me wanting you to get into the ring with Landon, and him blackmailing you to force a match. I mean for Christ's sake Michael, quite apart from the risk of injury to yourself that you pointed out to me, can you imagine the bad press I'd get for backing this? No. Landon has to learn that these strong-arm tactics aren't going to get him what he wants, which is why I'm going to pick this phone up right now, with you here to witness it, and call SWF Head Office and Budokan Hall to tell them not to start advertising that match..." Joe Peters didn't even see Michael Stephens move. However, one black-nailed hand has clamped over his own and is forcing the phone back onto its cradle. Shocked, Peters looks up to find two steel-grey orbs boring into his face. "Don't. You. Fucking. Dare." "Whu-" "I made a promise Joe," Stephens bites out, "I made a bloody promise. Oh, Landon's smarter than everyone gives him credit for, he knows me better than you might think. He knows I won't break a promise." "But c'mon," Peters says in confusion, "made under duress...?" "Don't matter," Stephens says, shaking his head, "I still made it. In front of all the fans, on international TV, I promised Landon I'd meet him in a Last Man Standing match at 13th Hour. That means that as long as I'm breathing, I'll be there." "You're weird," Peters says bluntly. "What, because I've got some sense of honour?" Michael Stephens growls, "bite me, Peters. You know what? Back when everyone and their mother was on my back, back when I was World Champion and the most hated man in North America, you know what kept me going in the face of that? The fact that I held onto myself. I always knew that no matter what happened, no matter how bad anything got, I would never break a rule and I would never break a promise. I still had standards, Joe. And then at Ground Zero, I didn't live up to my own standards. I cheated to beat Scott Pretzler." The grip on Peters' hand increases for a moment. "I ain't failing again. Landon forced me to make the promise, I'll keep the promise. Somehow, both him and me are gonna have to live with it." Suddenly Stephens releases Peters hand and stands up, then pushes the chair back and turns away from the table. "The match is on, Joe. But," he says, turning back to face the Eminem-lookalike, "Landon got his way, so I want a bit of mine. If he's so determined to have this match and take something from me - probably the ability to walk, if he can - I want to take something of his. I want the World Title on the line." "Suits me," Peters shrugs, going for pragmatic reason in the face of insanity (although the potential ratings may have helped his decision), "as long as the winner can still walk and preferably wrestle. OK, the World Title's on the line." He cocks a wary eyebrow. "Anything else?" "Just one," Stephens says, turning back for the door, "if Mike Van Siclen shows up then tell him his arse is mine. Again," he adds as an afterthought, then steps through the door and shuts it behind him. Joe Peters stares after him for a moment, then quietly places his head in his hands. "I think I liked him better when everyone hated him..."

JJ and Sean Davis have an excellent match, with JJ winning with a series of lariats. You see, because Va'aiga does the lariat, and it helps the angle. Hooray for JJ!

“Well this is going to be a match to remember,” King says jokingly. “Next up, ladies and gentleman, is a last minute addition to the card. Earlier tonight, Ced Ordonez asked for a match, so what do we get? Ced Ordonez vs. Matt Myers! So gear up for a piss break, cause this one is sure to be a match for the ages.” “Don’t be so harsh,” pipes in Mak Francis, “you never know, King. These two could put on an absolutely brilliant match! Ordonez is a veteran even at the young age of twenty-two. And lets face it, Matt Myers is… well… Matt Myers.” “Ha! Even your optimistic ass can’t put a positive spin on this. Set the alarm clock, kids, because this one is going to be a sleeper.” “Ladies and Gentlemen…” Funyon’s voice booms out over the crowd, “the following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…” “Night of fire!” The lights in the arena go dark as the fans at ringside stand up in anticipation of the next match. Niko’s “Night Of Fire” floods through the temple… “Fire!” *Boom!* Pillars of flames briefly light up the entrance before disappearing and revealing Ced Ordonez standing on the stage. He fires up the crowd as best as he can before jogging towards the ring. He slides in and promptly makes his way to the far turnbuckle, giving the crowd an obligatory face pose. He hops down and gets in some quick leg stretches before the bell. “… from Sacramento, California… weighing in at two hundred and nine pounds… he is ‘the Bemani Cross Wizard’… Ceeed Ordoooneeeezzz!!!” Funyon announces, a little behind schedule. A small cheer goes up, welcoming Ced back to the ring. “Well, at least it’s safe to assume that a few people recognize Ordonez,” King states. “I don’t know how Ordonez could afford to fly in his whole family on referee pay. Ha!” *Boom-boom-boom.* A loud drum beat fills the air, marking the arrival of… “Is Myers wearing a tiki mask?” Mak queries. That’s right, Matt “Native Warrior” Myers makes his way out from the back of the set wearing a grass skirt covering a pair of wrestling trunks with an old, wooden mask covering his face. The fans don’t know rather to be appalled or cheer the SWF’s lack of decency. Myers simply makes his way down towards the ring. “His opponent, from Honolulu, Hawaii… weighing in at two hundred and twenty-one pounds… he is… Maatt Myeeersss!!!” Funyon announces before rolling out of the ring. Myers rolls in under the bottom rope before climbing the corner turnbuckle and acknowledging his… reaction. He slaps hands with Ordonez in a show of sportsmanship before the bell rings. “Aww… that’s cute,” King says with a roll of his eyes. *Ding ding ding.* The two begin to circle each other in the ring, neither one really wanting to make the first move. The two men have quite a bit of ring rust after being inactive for quite some time now. The fans start to cheer them on though, spurring on confidence. This is an insane amount of cheering though for just two men circling in a ring… that’s because… *CRACK!* Matt Myers gets it first, turning to look behind him only to see a steel chair flying towards his face, a firm grip around it from the hands of none-other-than Austin Sly! Myer’s mask shatters upon impact sending shards of wood flying across the ring and some into the makeshift stands! He hits the mat with a thud as Austin turns his attention to Ced Ordonez. Ced barely has time to get his arms up in front of his face as the chair comes crashing down one more time! Ordonez joins his fellow jobber laying on the mat as the fans at ringside continue to cheer on Austin, despite the fact that he’s just destroyed two men unprovoked. “What the hell is this..?” King manages to stutter out. “I don’t know if I should be thankful to Austin for saving this match or be mad because… well… that’s just how I am.” “I’m not quite sure either, King.” Mak says, stunned. Matt Myers apparently didn’t have enough the first time around as he begins to push himself off the mat, bleeding steadily from his forehead. He reaches his knees before Austin realizes that he’s even still moving, but he’s quick to remedy this. Austin turns, and with one baseball-like swing of his chair, knocks Myers lights out! Sly slams the chair down to the mat before fleeing out of the ring between the middle ropes and back up into the stands as a line of security and medical personnel comes flowing out of the back. The fans continue to cheer, him on as he exits the arena. “I don’t know what to make of what we’ve just seen, King…” Mak mumbles. … No one quite knows what to make of this attack. Everyone knows that Austin has a vicious streak running in him, but why attack Ced Ordonez and Matt Myers? Why take out your anger on two random members of the locker room? One thing is for certain, though… Joseph Peters’ day just got worse.

Francis: “And as Storm returns to the air during the annual World Tour, we are preparing for another fantastic contest. It is veteran vs. rookie as Jay Hawke battles Grendel.” King: “Must we really subject ourselves to constantly getting involved with easy wins for Jay Hawke?” Francis: “Well, these are two men who have consistently been in the title hunt since they both debuted in the SWF, although lately both men have been in an unusual position for them as both men have been in a slump.” King: “And it’s only a matter of time before each man works their way out of it, but I’d be willing to bet that Jay Hawke is going to work out of it tonight and force Grendel to wait at least another show.” Francis: “Time will tell, and that time is now as we go to Funyon for the opening introductions.” Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 15-minute time limit.” The lights dim, and the familiar opening strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” begin to blare over the PA. Funyon: “Introducing first … from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWKE!” The crowd begins to boo as steam rises from the side of aisle, and Jay Hawke emerges form it. A lone spotlight shines down, illuminating Hawke’s beautiful black and purple robe. As he begins to make his way down to the ring, the crowd begins its all too-familiar chant (in English no less): “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” King: “No matter where we go, our fans show us absolutely no class!” Jay Hawke ignores the boos and catcalls from the fans and steps onto the ring apron. Hawke wipes his feet clean on the ring apron before stepping through the ropes and raising his arms into the air, which draws nothing but another series of boos. With that, the lights come back up, and Evanescence’s “Bring Me To Life” comes over the PA. Funyon: “And his opponent … from Manhattan, New York … weighing in at 220 pounds … ‘The Assassin’ … GRENNNNNNNNNNNNDELLLLLLLLLLLLL!” The crowd cheers heavily for Grendel as he makes his way toward the ring. Francis: “Listen to the reaction from this crowd, King! They love Grendel here on Storm this week!” King: “Yeah, they love him now, but will they respect him in the morning when Jay Hawke has stretched him so much that he goes from 6’1” to 6’5” in fifteen minutes or less?” Grendel makes his way to the ring apron and, using the top rope as a slingshot, somersaults into the ring to a nice pop… … …only to be brought down to the mat with a lariat, courtesy of the Dean of Professional Wrestling. DING DING DING! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Francis: “And a cheap shot before the bell by Jay Hawke, and referee Scott Ryder has no choice but to call for the opening bell right there!” King: “And he’s wasting no time. He has already begun putting the boots to Grendel’s shoulder! We could be moments away from a Wing Span and an easy submission!” After a series of stomps to the shoulder, Jay Hawke hooks Grendel’s arm into a keylock and begins pulling back on it, hoping against hope that Grendel will simply submit in the opening minute. Nobody can ever be accuse Grendel of being a quitter though, so while he clenches his teeth in obvious pain, he is clearly nowhere near the weakened state needed to force him to say “uncle”. Francis: “Usual strategy from Jay Hawke here. He is going to work on the left arm, which is the arm he normally chicken wings when he uses the Wing Span.” King: “And he wasted no time starting to work on it either. Classic move here.” Grendel works his way to his feet and begins punching Jay Hawke in the midsection with his free hand, forcing Hawke to release the hold. With the hold broken, Grendel unleashes a chop to Hawke’s chest: “WHOO!” And another. “WHOO!” And another. “WHOO!” Grendel runs off the ropes and charges, leveling Hawke with a forearm smash to the chest coming in. Grendel runs off the ropes again, arm outstretched for a clothesline, but Hawke hooks the arm up from out of nowhere and clamps down on it, taking his larger opponent down and locking in a Fujiwara armbar. Francis: “Just when it looked like Grendel was beginning to gain some momentum, Jay Hawke quickly locks the armbar in here!” King: “Absolutely brilliant, Mak! He may have lulled Grendel into a false sense of security!” Francis: “I don’t think that’s the case at all, but he certainly made a nice move to lock the Fujiwara in rather than taking that clothesline!” King: “And you see what using a move like this does. Grendel’s not in bad shape yet, but as he makes a move toward the ropes, it hurts him because he has to twist his arm and shoulder just to move.” Grendel tries to simply crawl toward the ropes, but he thinks to himself “I already have to twist my shoulder to move, so why not go with it?” Using that knowledge, he pulls himself to his knees and flips forward, breaking Hawke’s grasp of his arm, then instantaneously he turns and catches Hawke underneath the chin with a dropkick to the face. Hawke falls to the canvas, but regains his footing just in time for Grendel to catch him with a second dropkick, this one sending Hawke rolling to the floor on the outside. King: “There you go. This is the perfect opportunity to take a breather.” Except Grendel isn’t thinking “Let him take a breather.” He’s thinking “Let’s catch him unawares.” As Hawke gets to his feet, Grendel uses the top rope as a slingshot and launches himself over the top rope. Hawke sees it coming and moves out of the way, but Grendel sees it coming and lands on the apron. Hawke smiles, thinking he’s in good shape, but looks confused when he doesn’t hear the splat of flesh meeting concrete. Hawke turns around, and Grendel runs down the apron and launches himself off of it, catching the Dean of Wrestling with a somersault plancha to a wild response from the crowd. Francis: “What a move there! I think Grendel just outsmarted the Dean of Wrestling right there!” King: “He’s hit one move! Can we wait until the match plays out further before we finish singing his praises please?” Grendel gets to his feet, raising his arms in the air to soak in the cheers of the capacity crowd. Jay Hawke begins making his way to his feet, and Grendel pops him with a couple of forearms to the face that send Hawke backing up into the ringpost. Grendel charges Hawke and levels him with a clothesline against the post. King: “A ringpost clothesline that worked? What the…” Grendel charges again, and this time Hawke moves out of the way. Grendel’s left arm hits the post hard as a sickening sound echoes throughout the arena. King: “There we go!” Francis: “Why seem so excited now? The man might have broken his arm right there!” King: “And it serves him right for doing such a stupid move at such an inopportune time!” Hawke rolls into the ring, then back out of the ring to force referee Scott Ryder to restart his ten count. With that, he approaches Grendel, who is leaning against the ringpost holding his shoulder. Hawke pushes him forward, once again sending Grendel’s shoulder into the exposed steel post. King: “And this is vintage Jay Hawke. Finding a way to work over the shoulder and using the rules to his full advantage.” Hawke walks over to the other side of the post, then grabs Grendel’s left arm and pulls it forward, trying to stretch the shoulder ligaments with the steel post. As Grendel screams in pain, Hawke alleviates the pressure ever so slightly, then SMACK into the post goes the arm and shoulder. Hawke reenters the ring, then rolls back out of it, once again forcing the referee to restart his count. Francis: “Jay Hawke is being absolutely relentless on that shoulder, King. He’s trying everything in his power to put him away!” King: “If the man’s in too much pain to do anything, he can’t win the match. It’s that simple!” Jay Hawke once again grabs Grendel’s arm and slams it into the ringpost, and Grendel, either consciously or not, simply slumps to the floor to stop the onslaught. Hawke gets a smile on his face as he walks over and grabs the arm, then falls to the floor, bringing the arm slamming into the concrete floor with him. Francis: “Oh my! A single-arm DDT onto the concrete floor! More damage being done to that shoulder right there!” King: “And the more he damages that shoulder, the less likely Grendel is to actually doing anything to put Hawke away. Brilliant strategy by the former International Champion here!” Satisfied, Jay Hawke picks Grendel up and rolls him into the ring. He reenters the ring himself and grabs the arm, pulling Grendel into the center of the ring. Hawke drops his leg across the Assassin’s left arm, then uses his legs to scissor the arm. Francis: “Short arm scissors, and Jay Hawke has done absolutely nothing to get away from the shoulder.” King: “Why should he? A few more moves like this and he’ll be in the clear advantage for the rest of the bout.” Hawke continues to maintain his airtight grip on the arm and shoulder of his opponent. Grendel tries to fight the pain, unaware that his shoulders have fallen to the canvas: ONE! TWO! Grendel rolls the right shoulder off the canvas, almost out of instinct. Francis: “Was that the first near fall of the match?” King: “I think it was, and Hawke wasn’t actually trying to pin him there, which shows exactly how much pain Grendel must really be in right now.” Again Grendel’s shoulders fall to the mat: ONE! TWO! Grendel again gets the right shoulder up. Francis: “Another near fall, and you’d have to think that Grendel needs to find some way of getting to the ropes or this one’s going to be over whether he wants it to be or not.” King: “There’s another way to get out of the hold.” Francis: “What’s that?” King: “Quit.” Francis: “He’s not going to do that, King.” King: “Then he better be ready to have his arm injured, because that’s what’s going to happen if he doesn’t quit in the next minute or so.” Grendel’s shoulders fall to the canvas yet again: ONE! TWO! TH – Grendel uses his legs to roll himself backward, simultaneously weakening Hawke’s grip on the hold and, ever so barely, drape his foot over the bottom rope. Referee Scott Ryder reaches the count of four before Hawke releases the hold, and Hawke gets another boot to the shoulder before backing away from the ropes. King: “And there’s more of that typical great wrestling from Jay Hawke. He never backs down and always uses the rules to his advantage.” Jay Hawke once again grabs Grendel’s arm and pulls him away from the ropes. Hawke slips behind him and locks in a hammerlock. Grendel tries to fire an elbow back, but Hawke positions himself to where there’s no possible way to get caught with it. Hawke moves his head a bit, which enables Grendel to hook it as if going for a flying mare. Instead, Grendel uses the positioning to flip himself over, landing on his feet behind his opponent. He immediately locks in a tight waist and pushes forward, running Hawke into the ropes and taking him over with a rolling cradle: ONE! TWO! THR – kickout. Both men are quickly to their feet, and Hawke comes after Grendel with a lariat, only for the Assassin to duck underneath it and hook both of Hawke’s arms, taking him over with a crucifix: ONE! TWO! THR – kickout. Francis: “A couple of quick near falls here…” Grendel immediately takes Jay Hawke right back down to the mat with a sunset flip: Francis: “…and he’s refusing to give Hawke a chance to regain his bearings!” ONE! TWO! THR – kickout. King: “It all looks impressive, but it’s not doing much actual damage.” Both men return to their feet, and Grendel immediately tries to fire off a forearm smash. Hawke blocks it and immediately kicks Grendel’s shoulder. Grendel holds his shoulder as Hawke runs into the ropes, but Grendel leaps up and catches the Dean coming in with a side kick to the face. Francis: “Nice counter. We’ve seen some good counter wrestling from both men tonight.” Hawke backs up to the ropes, and Grendel moves in, only to get driven in the midsection by a Jay Hawke knee. Hawke hooks Grendel up for a vertical suplex and lifts him up, dropping him backwards over the top rope. Grendel somehow gets his feet on the ring apron to keep himself from falling to the floor, then sits down, dropping the back of Hawke’s neck along the top rope. Francis: “Terrific move!” As Hawke gets back to his feet, Grendel springboards onto the top rope and leaps in, doing a full somersault in midair. However, as he tries to grab Hawke’s head and neck on the way down, Hawke senses him coming and moves out of the way. Grendel hits the mat hard on his left side, with most of the punishment being taken by the left shoulder. Francis: “Oh no!” King: “Oh yes! Listen to Grendel scream like a little girl who just had her dolly’s head ripped off!” Grendel clutches onto his left arm and shoulder, but Hawke immediately pounces on it, driving it into the mat with a Fujiwara armbar. Grendel tries to fight the pain but can’t do it: TAPTAPTAPTAP! DING DING DING! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Francis: “I can’t believe it.” King: “Believe it. Truly a valiant effort, but all for naught.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 7 minutes 25 seconds … the winner of the match … JAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWKE!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jay Hawke stands up and smiles, acknowledging the boos with a quick flip of a finger. Yeah, that finger. Francis: “An unfortunate turn of events in the latter stages there. Grendel went for Grendel’s Curse in an attempt to put Jay Hawke away there, and the former International Champion avoided it and went into the Fujiwara armbar for the victory!” King: “And it just goes to show you with these flippy floppy cruiserweights, Mak. One false move too many, and you’ve lost. And that was simply a case of Grendel making one false move too many, and he paid for it with a submission loss and a potentially injured shoulder.” Francis: “But we have more great action still to come tonight, including that fantastic champion vs. champion main event, so don’t go away!”

"Landon Maddix just doesn't know when to stop," Mak Francis spits in total disgust as Maddix hauls Amy into the ring by her hair, "he's already beaten Amy Stephens down! He was walking around with her blood on the World Title, and now he has to make sure she loses her title as well, the title that he was too egotistical to try and win!?" "Yup, looks like it," King agrees gloomily. "Oh but look, it gets better!" Sure enough Landon has dumped Amy in the ring and reached back out through the ropes to Megan Skye who gives him a microphone, and as the World Champion approaches his former girlfriend again he slaps her in the back of the head. "TOXXIC!" "Oh brother," King groans, "here we go again..." "Toxxic, I gave you a chance!" Landon yells. "You had one simple choice to make; YES or NO, and you chose the wrong one! So now it's up to me to help you correct that error, because I'm going to give you one last chance to reconsider." La Cucaracha gestures towards Amy, who is now getting to her feet. "If you persist in trying to avoid me, we all know who's going to pay for it!" "Oh God no," Mak mutters, "not this again..." But yes, it appears that it is going to be this again. As Amy gets straightened up, eyes still glassy and presumably wondering where the hell all that irritating shouting is coming from, Landon steps in and- *SMACK!* -delivers a forearm that knocks the former-HGC Champion back down again. It'd normally take more than that to floor the Punk-Rock Princess, but Amy hasn't had a good week what with the spike piledriver and the Hardcore match and so on, so down she goes. "TOXXIC! I'm waiting!" "Someone needs to stop this!" Mak declares urgently. "King, I don't suppose..." "Uh-uh, forget it buddy," the Gambling Man says, "I don't like Landon, but I don't get paid to go all vigilante." Amy, being considerably tougher than any old boots you'd care to name, is already starting to get back up again even though it's not clear she even realises what's going on. Landon gestures to Megan... and now the Toddess enters the ring, bringing a steel chair with her. Landon accepts it graciously, lines up on the unsteady Stephens and- *CRACK!* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "Where's Comet when you need him?" Francis seethes. "Hell, why doesn't Toxxic just come out here?" King wonders. Landon Maddix stands over Amy Stephens, now well and truly on her back and unlikely to move in the near future - the trickle of blood running down her forehead from where the chairshot bust her open only seems to confirm that. Maddix drops the chair, raises the microphone to his mouth, and grins. "Toxxic, I could go on like this all night." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "BUT... I'm not going to." With that Landon Maddix tosses the microphone casually to Megan Skye and reaches down to peel Amy Stephens off the mat. The Punk-Rock Princess seems to be pure deadweight but Landon hauls her up to something vaguely approaching upright, then bends her over and puts her head between his legs in a standing headscissors... ...then underhooks both her arms. "Oh shit." Mak Francis says. "TOXXIC!" Maddix roars, Megan now holding the microphone to his mouth. The Toddess looks uncomfortable, as if she's not sure that this is such a good idea, but she's going along with it anyway. "Toxxic, this is your last chance!" Landon continues, raising his voice just so there's no doubt that everyone can hear him. "If you're not out here in ten seconds, I'm going to break her goddamn neck! It's your call, 'sunshine'!" "TEN!" "NINE!" "EIGHT!" "SEVEN!" "SIX!" "FIVE!" "FOUR..." "THREE..." "TW-" -and then the curtain flies aside, and Michael Stephens sprints out. "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Englishman starts to race down to the ring, but not for long: "HOLD IT!" Landon bawls, hauling Amy up until her feet are barely on the ground, "one more step and it's traction time!" Stephens obediently halts, but the expression on his face is an ugly one. The grey eyes that glare out at Landon from behind the dark curtains of hair don't hold a trace of softness or reluctance anymore; they are steel, cold and hard. "Give the man a microphone," Landon orders a nearby SWF technician, who hurries over to Michael Stephens with the required item. Stephens reluctantly takes it, then returns to staring at Landon. "Toxxic, you've been avoiding me for far too long," Landon gloats, "but I've got you now! After everything you've pulled, all the nights I waited for the ache in my neck to subside, the damage done to my career, to my self-esteem, to my fucking life, all that's gonna end now! You and me are getting in the ring, one-on-one, one more time, or your sister can kiss her vertebrae goodbye! What do you say?" The Englishman, still staring at Landon, says nothing. "TOXXIC! I'm talking to you!" Silence. "Dammit Toxxic, what-" "My name is Michael Stephens." There is a faint cheer as Stephens finally responds to Maddix's taunting, but that doesn't seem to bother Landon in the slightest. The World Champion just rolls his eyes theatrically and continues. "Toxxic, you can call yourself the Sugarplum Fairy if you want, but it won't make any difference to me! All I want is a match. Just one match, Toxxic! You and me at 13th Hour... in a Last Man Standing match." "A Last Man Standing match!?" Francis repeats incredulously as a ripple of excitement runs through the fans, "seriously? Landon wants to throw down in a Last Man Standing?" Michael Stephens seems to be surprised as well, his eyebrows climbing significantly. "No need to look so shocked," Landon chides his enemy, "after all, this is where it all began isn't it! If you hadn't been so goddamn bloodthirsty and tried to break my neck to keep me down for the ten-count, none of this would be happening. So what do you say, Toxxic?" "...why does it always have to be Last Man Standing at 13th Hour?" Michael Stephens asks wearily, "seriously Landon, have you got no bloody imagination at all? Three years in a row; Kibagami, Spike and now you?" "I don't care about history Toxxic," Landon says, his voice suddenly growing thick with anger, "I just want an answer now. YES or NO?" "So, what, you're going to get someone to bring a contract out to the ring, we'll draw it up and sign it, all while you keep Amy there ready to give her the Demonstar?" Stephens asks dubiously. "Hell Landon, I'd like to see you sign a contract with no hands. Seriously, I'd like to see that." "You're stalling," Landon says dangerously, "you've got ten seconds. YES or NO?" "So what do you want me to do?" Michael Stephens snaps, "I don't see a contract anywhere Landon, you've specifically told me not to get any closer... are you just going to take my word on this!?" "Yes." The noise that's been building around Angkor Wat now suddenly subsides. All the fans are staring at the two men, one in the ring and one outside it. Staring, and wondering what Landon means. "Yes, I'll take your word on it," Maddix continues, his voice softer now, "after all, isn't that what you've always been bragging about? That you 'never break a rule, and never break a promise'? You give me your word, you give me your promise that you'll turn up to 13th Hour to face me, and I'll let your sister go. Peters can draw up a contract if he wants, but I know I'll be there. I guess we'll just see if you can actually keep your word, or if you're an empty bag of wind who's going to run from a fight. Yes or no. Your call." "You want to face me at 13th Hour," Stephens says. "Yes." "In a Last Man Standing match." "Yes." "And if I agree, you'll let Amy go without harming her any further," Stephens says. "That's right." "AND," the Englishman adds, grey eyes flashing suddenly, "you won't touch her again unless you're in some kind of match with her; I'm not having you doing this again Landon, you have an issue with me, you come to me. You don't get to me through my sister." "Believe me Toxxic, you say 'yes' and all my issues with you will be gone at 13th Hour," Landon says with a greedy smile, "so yes, you agree to face me in a Last Man Standing match at 13th Hour and I will never touch your sister outside of a match again... unless she wants it," the World Champion adds with an obscene leer. Stephens just glowers at him. "I must say Landon," he says with a sarcastic grimace, "you've given me one hell of a choice." "Oh, you don't like it!?" Landon snarls, "how do you think I liked it? The choice of lying in bed and wondering if my head was going to drop off or get up and walk around, wondering if my head was going to drop off! The choice of staying up all night and drive myself crazy or try to go to sleep and relive that moment where you tried to break my neck over and over and over again! The choice of-" "Alright, alright, ENOUGH!!" Stephens yells, cutting Landon off in mid-rant, "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of you blaming everything on me, I'm sick of you hurting people near to me, I'm sick of your whining and I'm sick of your bloody face! You let Amy go," he continues, calming down again, "you release her and leave the ring, and you've got your match. I'll face you at 13th Hour, one-on-one, in a Last Man Standing match." "Your word?" Landon queries. "My word." "I've got your promise?" "Yes, you've got my bloody promise," Stephens snaps, "now get away from my fucking sister!" Landon Maddix doesn't answer. Instead a slow, satisfied smile oozes across his face and he releases Amy Stephens' arms, allowing the semi-conscious Punk-Rock Princess to slump to the mat. The World Champion and Megan Skye then step out of the ring on the opposite side to Michael Stephens and, without looking back, turn to make their way through the crowd as security clears a path. The fans boo and even hurl things at Landon and Megan, but a final camera shot shows the smile fixed on Landon's features. Meanwhile Michael Stephens has rushed into the ring and is checking on Amy, who appears to be battered and bloodied but not seriously hurt. "Fans, we have a massive match signed for 13th Hour," Mak Francis says in subdued tones, "but what a way to sign it... Michael Stephens has been blackmailed into this by Landon Maddix who was holding his sister hostage, and now he has to step into the ring with a man who has been threatening to break his neck for months! The only question is, has Landon bitten off more than he can chew?" "Do you think it's possible for them both to break each other's necks at the same time?" King asks wistfully. "It's not something I want to think about," Francis replies acidly, "we've got to take a commercial break now, but we'll be right back." FADE OUT

Several hours before SWF Storm continues the World Tour, the “New Straight Edge Sensation” Spike Jenkins arrives at the destination for tonight’s event. Wearing a pair of ripped jeans, checkerboard Vans slip-on shoes, and a black “7 Angels 7 Plagues” hoodie, he climbs up the steps, entering the Angor Wat temple, cell phone in his hand and pressed against his ear. “No, you don’t seem to understand me. I know WHY you booked me in this match and I’m fine with it. Amy challenged me; Manson wants a shot at me after I stole his title. But I don’t understand why it is HERE !” “Spike,” says the voice of Peter Joseph on the other line, “Angor Wat is such a huge place for the people of Cambodia and has such a rich, fulfilling history…of course I was going to book a match in it where everything gets destroyed.” “Very tasteful, Peter,” Jenkins says as he swings open the doors and enters the now deserted temple. He looks around him, carefully memorizing the location of each Buddha statue. “So, where are you?” “I’m at the hotel.” “…What…?” Spike mutters, his eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” “Didn’t you have one of your little goons come tell me to come to the temple BEFORE the show?” “Yes.” “Wasn’t it to meet me here?” “Umm…no.” Spike takes a deep breath, his blood beginning to boil over the actions of a top authority of Creative Control. “Then why did you send me here early? It can’t be to scout the area…because that would mean…” Jenkins trails off as soon as he realizes that he is not alone inside the temple. “Well, due to time restraints on tonight’s show, I figured why not have the “En-Fight-Enment” match early and tape it!” Spike coldly stares at the cameraman who has been following him the whole time…he, of course, was thinking he was just going to cut a promo. “Well…good luck, Spike!” *Click* “I hate that bastard…” Spike trails off once more as a shadowy figure pops up to the side of him. Spike puts his hands up to defend himself, but breathes a sign of relief as it’s just a man wearing a red toga. “Who are you?” Jenkins asks calmly. “I am the referee.” Spike looks at the Buddhist, not sure of how to answer that…when he hears a noise behind him. His shoulders drop and he shakes his head in a mixture of annoyance and fear. Jenkins looks at the Buddhist referee, “Manson is standing behind me, isn’t he?” “Yes, he is!” “Yeah…do me a favor? Hold my cell phone so I don’t break it when I’m getting the shit kicked out of me?” “Yes, I will!” Spike hands his cell phone off to the referee, looks at a giant Buddha statue towards the end of the temple and turns around, ready to meet his maker. He turns around; catching eyes with the man he stole one-half of the SWF World Tag Team Titles from. “Hey, Manson.” “Hey, Spike.” Manson slams his fist into the side of Jenkins’ face, knocking the Straight Edger back. Spike grabs his face as he stumbles back towards Manson, who connects with another punch to the face, knocking Jenkins’ to the ground! He turns over onto his hands and knees and tries to crawl away from “The Enforcer”, but Manson stays right on top of him. “You think you can steal MY title and get away with it?” shouts Manson. Spike climbs to his feet and holds his hands out, trying to stop Manson. “Come on, man! That was like, a week or two ago! Get over it, already!” No, that doesn’t work. Manson charges at Spike, kicking him square in the gut and knocking him back into a Buddha statue. Spike falls over it, landing hard on the back of his head. He rolls over onto his knees, grabbing the statue and lifting it up into the air. “GET BACK! STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Manson calmly walks over to the disoriented Jenkins. He kicks at Spike’s hands, punting the Buddha statue into a million pieces and leaving the former Cruiserweight champion stunned. Spike looks up at Manson with a nervous smile and half-heartedly laughs. “Come on, man. Can’t we be friends?” Manson moves forward, ready to attack…but Spike leaps up to his feet, grabbing Manson by the collar, and falls backwards, flinging Manson face first into the ground! Spike jumps to his feet and charges towards the door. “Get me the hell out of here!” Almost at the door, Spike realizes that he is about to break free from this temple of doom. Nothing behind him. No natives with weapons. No fire. No boulders. …Except to the side of him charges a crazy Brit. “Where do bloody hell do ya tink’ yer goin, innit!” Spike makes it five feet to the door before being tackled from the side by the SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion and the sister of Spike’s archrival, Amy Stephens. Indiana Jones had it easy. “Dis’ is for Rochelle! Pick on yay women yer own size!” “GET OFF OF ME YOU PSYCHO!” Amy slams her fist into the side of Spike’s head, ground-and-pounding her way into beating the guy who attacked her friends’ ex-lover. “Oy, I’ll show you, bloody bastard!” Spike pushes her off of him and both quickly get to their feet. “You’re fucking crazy! You know that! Just like your brother!” “Oy!” “No wonder Landon dumped you.” “…YOU BLOODY FUCK YA!” “…Oh shit…I’m sorry?” “I’LL KICK YER BLIMEY ASS YOU WANKA!” “What the hell does that mean? You make no sense, you crazy bitch! Then again, YOU ARE ENGLISH!” “OY!” Amy charges at Spike, who carefully picks up a Buddha statue from his side and smacking the Punk Rock Princess across the face with it… …Which she, of course, no-sells. “BLOODY HELL, INNIT!” Amy stands there, stunned by the blow. Not really feeling too much damage, but just shocked that she was smacked across the face with a tiny statue… …When Manson comes up behind her and hits Spike in the back of the head with a statue, as well! “GOD DAMN IT!” Spike collapses to the floor in a heap, leaving Manson and Amy alone. Manson looks down at the man who stole his tag team title with complete anger and malice… …Giving Amy a free shot with a tiny Buddha statue! “You bitch!” shouts the former Hardcore Gamers and World Tag Team Champion! “Tis’ da rules!” Now with everyone at one-a-piece, the next person to use a statue on his or her opponent will be the Hardcore Gamer champion. Manson eyes Amy, as she looks down at the hurt Spike Jenkins. She looks at Manson…and quickly reaches for a statue. She grabs it, lifts it over her head and charges at the body of Jenkins…only to be grabbed by Manson and dragged away from their opponent! He pushes her back, slamming her into the giant Buddha statue that Spike was looking at when he first entered the temple. “DAMNIT LET ME GO!” Amy tries to fight back against Manson, but each time, he slams her back into the giant statue…that begins to wobble. “OH SHIT” both yell in unison as they jump out of the way…and the giant 80-foot statue tips over…falling over towards Spike Jenkins! *CRAAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH* The statue hits the ground with a loud bang, sending dust into the air around the temple. The faint sound of coughing is heard, as the dust begins to settle. The figure of a person stands up, surrounded by dust, as they try to make their way through the mess. “Tit landed on Spike, yer! I won, right?” As Amy Stephens asks this question, the double doors to the temple swing open… AND ENTERS KING ARAGORN! Actually, it’s Landon Maddix! But his hair is swinging just like Aragorn’s in Return of the King! “Bloody bastard, wattcha ya doin here!” Amy shouts as she charges towards the awaiting World Champion of the SWF. “Ill kill yer!” Amy grabs a statue that hasn’t been crushed off the ground as she comes closer to Landon, who is waiting in the doorway. Behind her, Manson gets to his feet. He picks a statue up off the ground and limps towards the last person he has to hit to win the match. “Ya bloody fuck ya!” Amy gets five feet from Landon…when Megan Skye pops out of the darkness behind her, the SWF World Title (covered in dust, just like Megan is) in hand, and smacking the sister of Toxxic in the back of the head, dropping her to the floor! “Jesus, Megan…” “Damn it, Landon! The 80-foot statue fell and got dust all over me!” cries the manager of the World Champion. “Come on, let’s get her out of here.” Landon grabs Amy by her hair and drags her out of the temple, with little help from Megan, who is trying to get the dust off herself and the SWF World Title. Behind them, Manson continues to limp, falling to his knees and crawling towards them. “WAIT! I NEED HER! I NEED HER!” Manson, realizing that if they take Megan, there is no way he can win the match. Holding his leg that he injured during the statue falling and a statue in his other hand, he crawls towards the three. Landon and Megan finally drag Amy outside of the temple, just as Manson makes it over to the doorway… …And they slam the door shut! “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” Manson makes it to the door, slamming his fist against it. “OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!” he shouts. Continuing to slam his fist and the statue against the door, Manson doesn’t know what to do. The last person he had to beat has been dragged away and he was locked out. How could he win the title now? ……… “Sucks for you.” Manson turns around, to look up at Jenkins. “Oh…the irony in this…” are the last words from Spike as he smacks Manson across the face with a large statue, swinging away at the fence. Manson collapses in a heap, leaving Spike standing over him. Suddenly, the door opens; Landon, Megan, and Amy nowhere to be found, but gives an exit to the now double champion, Spike Jenkins. The Buddhist referee pops out of nowhere, handing the Hardcore Gamers title (and his cell phone) to Jenkins. Spike grabs the title and pie-faces the Buddhist, as he exits the temple. Standing on top of the temple steps, Spike holds the Hardcore Gamers title high in the air. “I AM THE KING OF CAMBODIA!” ……… “Actually, I am the King of Cambodia!” Spike looks over to his side, looking at the actual King of Cambodia. “What did you do to my temple?” cries the King. Spike looks at him, then back into the near-collapsing temple, with Manson lying in the doorway. “I destroyed it…because I’m the SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion and one-half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions…AND THE NEW KING OF CAMBODIA!” Spike pie-faces the King of Cambodia, pushing him down the flight of stairs leading up to the temple. He holds the Hardcore Gamers title high in the air, as the people at the bottom all look up, bow, and pray. “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins is the new Hardcore Gamers Champion…and the King of Cambodia?