Rawknight

Hardcore. Annie. Eeeeeeeeeenteresting. *thinks of crazy spots* *sees Toxxie's marking* *thinks of crazy spots... with psychology*

We definately need to establish whether King still hates Card (King paid off Card to stop Landon winning the title, and he didn't)

Sitting in the grounds of his million dollar plus crib, Chris Card leans back and takes a sip of special reserve claret from a tall wine glass. With the famous cracked gravestone grin crossing his face, Card makes a sweeping gesture to the camera inviting it to pan around the sumptuous grounds of Card's Scarborough Bluffs estate. Stopping to check the time on his platinum Tag Heuer watch and after briefly flicking a glance towards his top of the range iPhone, Card addresses the camera. Chris Card: You know, I've been referred to as an underachiever in this business. Card takes another $50 mouthful of wine Card: Now, dear viewers, despite being one of the most talented wrestlers to step foot into the ring in the last 20 years, despite having a natural talent, a gift if you will, for this whole sports entertainment thing, I've never held a world title. I've never hit the pinnacle of this industry. Sliding his Armani sunglasses down and peering over them into the camera Card continues. Card: So while the workers down in Cleveland toil away, scrabbling and backbiting their way up the program, Chris Card is lounging here in his massively expensive house, sipping the finest wines and partying with a veritable who's who of society. Yeah underachieving is definitely weighing heavy on my mind. Card emits a snort of derision towards the camera, and by proxy the fans. Card: See the problem with most people involved in this industry, you think in straight lines. Take Landon Maddix. A man who still seems concerned that I worked so hard against him when he was going for the world title. Did Landon become World Champion? Yes. Did Landon make a lot of money out of the deal? Yes. Should Landon still be pissed off at me? Seeing things through his wax crayon scrawl of an outlook as opposed to my beautiful impressionistic watercolours, maybe. But the end result is I kick a few ceiling inspectors in the head, they get annoyed at me and I end up being offered a match. Another smirk. Card leans over and tops his wine glass up while lighting a fat Cuban cigar and taking a quick puff. Card: Now I don't need this match. I have nothing to prove to myself and quite frankly I have no desire to prove anything to the unwashed throng of imbeciles who pay my wages while baying for my blood. But maybe there is something in this match with, now what was his name, Generic Lucharesu Enmascarado #35? You see when I accepted the match, with the generous payday that accompanies it, I got a phone call from Toxxic asking 'Why the hell would you accept this match?” 'Three reasons,' I replied, 'Money, face time and shits and giggles.' Excuse me a second. Turning to a brand new widescreen laptop, Card taps away at a few buttons, smiles broadly and turns back to the camera. Card: Apologies for that. Just checking the stock portfolio. Which brings me neatly to my first reason – money. Now unless you happen to be Ted Turner or Donald Trump, both of whom I know are wrestling fans and therefore by extension Chris Card fans, you are watching this from a worse financial position than I'm in. The practical fact is that pro wrestlers go through their careers talking about the bottom line. Well for Chris Card the bottom line IS the bottom line. When I check my statements and see wealth accumulating I know that I'm doing well. It's a warm fuzzy feeling that I'm sure few of you have ever experienced. I also know how much money I can command when I step between the ropes. Now I'm not going to end up like any number of broken down, flat broke or just plain old dead wrestlers who burn themselves out before they hit 40. Like a fine wine a Chris Card match is something to be savoured, and making them all the more rare makes the anticipation that much more when I actually DO step into the ring. Anticipation equals viewers. Anticipation equals DVD sales and PPV buys. Anticipation makes the SWF money and what makes the SWF money makes Chris Card money. You, dear viewers, are going to fork out that hard earned cash of yours for the privilege to watch me wrestle. You always have and until I finally hang up the boots for good you always will. So even though I'm only facing a skylight starer, the cash that I will reap from the experience makes it worth my while. Taking another drag off his cigar, Card stubs it out in his ashtray for later and continues. Card: Face Time. This is an easy concept to explain so even the simplest of you should be able to understand it. Toxxic may even be able to explain it to Landon, possibly without having to resort to using a rubber duckie as a visual aid. Chris Card wrestling means more Chris Card on TV. Given that you get to see me twice on the show as TKO are busying themselves going 'hood' against Nunez and Bruner that means double the exposure for the Chris Card brand. Consider me as a sort of David Beckham figure. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, my presence is the most important thing. The main difference of course, along with the ability to count past 20 fully clothed, is that I have always been smart enough to work this out for myself without needing a scheming wife or personal brand manager helping. I know how much exposure is the right amount and come 3D2C the public gets it's medically recommended dose of Perfection. Card takes another long slow sip of wine before advancing to his third point. Card: Finally, and it comes somewhere down in my priorities behind making money is the consideration of how much fun it will be teaching an overcaffeinated cruiserweight a few important wrestling lessons. As much as occasionally putting my foot through someone's ribcage from a managers standpoint can be, I felt it was time to lace up the boots and enjoy wrestling someone into knots that a Sea Scout couldn't untie. Technical Perfection has always been so much more than a nickname. It's a title. It's a description. It's an explanation of how immensely talented I am boiled down into a two word epithet. As much as I despise the hard slog of a day in day out professional wrestling schedule, I do actually enjoy occasionally getting into the ring and putting my brain into sharp relief by returning my opponents to their natural state, backs to the mats. I carry a philosophy through my matches that allows me to wrestle at a higher level. It's like Leon Trotsky's revision of Communism. A philosophy which, if applied correctly, could have lead to global domination while the rest of the party was left pandering to Marx. Card snorts again at his admittedly slightly stretched pun. Card: So come “Damaged Doors Don't Come Cheap” you, you lucky lucky people, get a chance to see Chris Card in competition for the first time in a couple of years. Expect brilliance. Expect dominance. Expect nothing but the best and I guarantee that none of you will be dissapointed. Unless of course you happen to be a fan of Generic Lucharesu Enmascarados. Card flicks a button underneath his chair and the whole affair drops backwards into a more relaxed configuration. Lying back and sliding his shades back up his nose, Card offers one more thought to the watching public. Card: It's great being Chris Card.

Landon's office, shortly after Hell Freezes Over A shadow approaches the door, visible through the frosted glass. It raises a hand- "WAIT!" Landon Maddix bursts out of his office into the outer office, past the startled Sally and reaches the outer office door to yank it open and reveal the figure of Chris Card standing there. Maddix pulls up short and glares at the Englishman. "You're not Va'aiga." "...no," Card says, eyeing Maddix curiously, "The lack of steel chair shaped dents in my head should have given that away." "Good. Then you aren't going to kick my door off, so you can damn well knock," the Commissioner pouts, and closes the door in Card's face. Toxxic, poking his head out from the internal office, shakes his head and sighs. "Did you ask me to come here just to close a door in my face?" Card asks, opening the door again (without knocking) and shutting it behind him. He takes a moment to smile at Sally, who responds with an uncertain half-grimace. "No, I called you here to talk to you about your conduct lately," Maddix tells him sternly. "Since we rehired TKO... remind me Mike, why did we rehire TKO?" he asks archly, not taking his eyes away from Card. "Because they rock," the General Manager's voice comes from behind him. "Oh, and because you hate them, and you hate Chris, and I thought it'd be fun to annoy you," the straight-edger adds with a smirk. "Right," Maddix huffs. "Anyway, since we rehired TKO your team has had a total of three matches - one tag, two singles - and in those three matches you have ended up attacking three opponents." "Get it right Landon," Card smiles, "I waited until the match was over to attack Jakey and that ridiculous dancing clown." "Whatever," Maddix waves a hand irritably, "do you have any idea what sort of situation we're in financially? We need to be attracting employees, not providing an unsafe working environment!" He harrumphs again and crosses his arms. "I'm not happy, Chris." "And I'm meant to care... why?" Technical Perfection asks. Maddix opens his mouth again but Card forestalls him by holding up a hand. "Hang on a second Landon. I know you tend to open your mouth before you engage your brain, so I'll help you out here. I know you don't need someone in here asking for a match through the medium of interpretive Bemani so I'll give the premature answer, Yes I'll fight Dragon. " Landon tilts his head sideways, eyeing Card suspiciously. "Your mouth's still open, by the way." Maddix snaps his mouth shut and glares at the goth in front of him, then nods slowly. "OK Chris, I'll set it up." "...for a full wrestling fee, of course," Card adds smoothly. "Hey, you're on the books as a manager!" Maddix protests. "Wrestler's fee," Card demands, crossing his arms. "I don't get in the ring unless I'm getting paid the proper wage." "Fine, fine, wrestler's fee," Landon sulks. "Now get out." "...AND DON'T TOUCH THAT DOOR!"

Ahh the advantage of uTorrent...

I've been e-fedding for over 10 years, after a stuttering start with a US football themed tag team I created the Haka Boyz (basic premise - wouldn't Jonah Lomu be a great pro wrestler.) Va'aiga went solo to get me higher up the card in the GFWA and the rest is history. Chris Card was created so I could be a proper heel. Many times I've tried other stuff. I've tried Sean Fate and Tomb, two big 7 foot goth types. I've been in a real wrestler fed with Hiro Tanahashi. I've tried lots of other characters briefly but when push comes to shove it always seems to come back to either the Maori or Card. I've written some stuff for Natasha as a wrestler but she's just Card with tits. Had things panned out differently Chris Card may well have been SWF champion and Va'aiga never even heard of in these parts - the reason I switched in the JL was due to the lack of faces around the place. So my best advice is to try other stuff, throw shit at the wall and see what sticks as they say.. and if it doesn't work you've always got WC to fall back on. You know I've always wanted to try a WC/Va'aiga tag team... the scope for some totally awesome power/speed spots (and to bust out my old Haka Boyz spots cos Va'a was a cruiser.

SWF WORLD TITLE 2/3 Falls Hardcore Michael Alexander© vs Insane Luchador --> I've been in and out of the fed for about 5 years now and i've NEVER seen IL this hot. Plus it's hardcore and that favours IL. IL via a moonsault off something stupid. Grudge Match Tracey Bruner vs Va'aiga --> Obviously I'm backing myself but this is a tricky write. One cos I've never beaten WC and two cos Bruner is a totally different challenge than Va'aiga vs anyone else on the roster. Obviously I'm not giving my finish away on a preds thread. Increasing Grudge Match Annie Eclectic vs Taiga Star --> The real winner of course is The Fans. Keep the fued going! Massive double DQ. S.I.N. vs 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins --> Bo's on a good writing streak by all accounts. Should be a very close call between my last two victories. Bo via Seven Deadly Sins. Dance Dance Dragon vs TORU Takahara --> via some sort of Cardference of course. Should be an interesting match. Tod James Stewart & Daniel Smith vs Rikard Fleihr & Arne Andersen --> Tod is back and testing out stuff against the Norsemen. Should be an interesting read.

My promo's supposed to be later in the show if poss. Looks a bit sus if Va'aiga is OK one commercial break after a shitkicking.

I always keep a good track of the due date so i can plan when to write... about 6 hours before the match is due generally Oh and never enter a battle of wits with a Sicilian!

Hey guess what? I'm NOT going to ask for an extension this week! Just got finished.

Bo... you haven't put any strikes in your moveset! I'm presuming SIN's a brawler and punches a lot right?

Fade in on Va'aiga... Va'aiga: For all of y'all who wanted to hear the savage... only Savage I know drops beats.. The background music for the promo fires up – with the familiar shouting style of Samoan/NZ (2nd migration, brah!) rapper Savage calling out the start of Ahem... Ladies and gentlemen he's finally here Make some noise for... 1,2,3,4! I know you know who this is... I know you know who this is... I know you know who this is... I know you know who this is... If you love Savage Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! And D'konz too Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! Now ladies c'mon Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! And fellas c'mon Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! Wave ya hands! Va'aiga: Now what we have here. Another cocky fuck calling me out on my history. Mouthing off about where he's from. Shooting on my background. Now let me tell you how it goes. It ain't that there's no law and order in NZ. Just there's two sets of rules. See there's the law of the Pakeha and the law of the Maori. And when the two clash guess which one I follow. And it ain't never been about dodging spears – knives, fire axes, bullets and those motherfuckin' police batons... I'm more used to that. I won't lie and say I don't got a Koe -It's my link to my roots and I ain't gonna risk breaking it on your worthless skull. And for the record you don't throw a Koe, you batter someone to death with it. Va'aiga runs a hand through his cornrows while giving the camera a slight look of disgust. Va'aiga: Apparently my first sin is talking shit. Well I'm aiming for about my 20th sin to be driving your head through the canvas. By the time I hit about 37, 38 sins I might finish you off with a lariat. But shit, If I haven't committed at least 5 sins and broken a couple of commandments before breakfast it's a slow day for the Maori. Like my ex tag partner said – sometimes you gotta sin to win. Pause for a drink of water. Va'aiga: I've been called a primitive before. I've been called an animal. Seven words on that. “Be careful of what you wish for.” See I've said it a hundred times – South Pacific peoples are a modern mob, we just know how to tap into those savage instincts. Something deep in our genetics. You sit there cracking a brew, I know I can't touch the stuff cos it fucks the brown man up – my genetics. I look in the mirror each day and see a little more growing on my puku – my genetics. I get in a fight, the hunter in me comes out and I want to RIP SOME MOTHERFUCKER APART – my genetics. I ain't gonna boil your head. We ain't done the whole cannibal shit for hundreds of years. Wouldn't be worth cookng your toenga kainga ass anyways. Va'aiga allows himself a little smirk at the cultural reference. Va'aiga: You accuse me of talking shit. Oh you do NOT understand. See when you step on my marae you WILL get challenged. You WILL get told of how I can beat the fuck out of you. That's the way it's always been done. And if you don't heed the warnings and you step into my iwi uninvited all those threats that you've been laughing off all become so very real. There are two kinds of people that fight The Maori. Those who shrink away and those who man up. The first group are just plain dumb – show weakness and I will exploit it as I beat you down. The second group are... also just plain dumb. Front up to the Maori and you're in the firing line for getting your skull caved in. I'm gonna be interested to see which you are. Cos all you are to me at the moment is a little punk whose mouth is writing cheques that his body is never gonna be able to cash. And the debt collector is comin'. Shrink like a violet, die like a dog... it's all up to you now. BOO-YAH! Pause.... Va'aiga: Kefe! The roof! The roof! The roof is gone! You don't need to worry because Savage ripped it off! But the roof! The roof! The roof is gone! You don't need to worry because Savage ripped it off!

Fade in to a series of 80s news footage clips. A police photo of a Maori, face covered in tattoos – a mixture of traditional tribal, a swastika and the words “FUCK OFF”. “convicted for multiple murders. The accused was a known member of the notorious 'Mongrel Mob'..” A man rushing into a public plaza wielding a fire axe. The man dressed in a black leather jacket rushes straight for a group of similarly clad Maoris, though with red jackets and starts swinging... “a gang related incident in full view of the police” A group of young Maoris, faces blurred, passing around what appears to be a crack pipe “more young people are turning to methamphetamine, both as users and as links in the larger drug chain” The scene cuts abruptly to Va'aiga addressing the camera in front of the SWF logo. Va'aiga: Enough history. See I think somebody needed a little lesson about my background. You been watching too much New York shit. Not all us Island Boys are savages. Not like it was still 1614. Seeing kids from my school class wind up in the papers either in jail or dead. Seeing teenagers out of their head on the P startin trouble for laughs. Seeing bless flow in and cash flow out of my brothers' hands like water. Being shocked the first time I saw a gun in school. Being shocked the first time I was asked to beat someone shitless. Being shocked the first time I was asked to kill (and thank fuck I didn't). But you understand this all, right? Va'aiga pauses and takes a sip of water. Va'aiga: See the best thing about my background is... I got out. I got into pro wrestling. I moved to SoCal. I started to get a rep in something that mattered more than the streets. I started to get a rep in pro wrestling. Tag Team Champion. Hardcore Champion. Motherfuckin' WORLD CHAMPION. So this ain't about the streets. You've not got a buncha homies watching your back. And you've got no fucking' rep. Not in my world. Another sip. Va'aiga: SIN... when you walk down that entrance ramp – you're entering MY streets. When you step into that ring you're on MY turf. MY House! MY.. iwi. You wanna call me a barefoot savage? I'll stick my boot so far up your ass you can floss with my laces. You wanna call me a bitch? Maybe I'll stop hitting you when you start crying for your momma. Your name rings bells? My Lariat rings bells. That's the bell signaling another sucka down. Another victim of the lariat. And when all has been said and done, all the smoke has cleared, that's all you're gonna be. Pause. Va'aiga: BOO-YAH!

Oooh a promo. You can bet your life on a reply. And a reasonable amount of cash that it will feature swearing and shouting. I'm looking forward to writing this match! Let violence commence!

I have been ill this week. All I have to say really

Kids... I am writing Pro Wrestling... Estoy escribinedo lucha libre...

I'm impressed with how quick Taiga is adapting to "The SWF Style". Oh Toxxie, despite me not being in control of them technically - can I still write Card/'Tash promos? It's a different form of catharsis to writing promos for Da Maori.

How wrestling C4 works!

Glad you liked the match Bo. I tried to keep Spike looking strong by having him outwrestle Va'aiga while keeping Va'aiga's "I am a Pacific Islander and am therefore impervious to being hit in the head" thing going. TKO are an idea that Toxxic and I worked on a while back. With the new tag rules that's given them a chance of return while i'm busy LAAAAAAAARIIIATOOOOOOOOOing people.

Grief Spikey... I'm going to have to improvise cos I've got a history of no selling virtually ALL of your moves! - See Rev-0 vs VDN for what happens when you try to soccer tackle Va'aiga, I have a HUGE history of no selling lariats, You can't spear Va'aiga (all that rugby experience) and going strike for strike with the Maori is death for anyone who isn't Danny, Dace or Silent (Toxxic told me specifically NOT to use striking as a tactic in our match).

“Viewers of a nervous disposition would be well advised to take the next few minutes off,” warns Mak Francis, “As we prepare for some blood and violence with a Flaming Tables match” “Someone is going through a table tonight, Mak,” replies The Suicide King, “and that table is going to be covered in flammable liquid and set on fire. This is one of those types of match where serious injury is always a possibility.” “It takes a special kind of athlete to compete in this sort of match” “You'd have to be psychotically violent or completely insane to want to. So Landon Maddix picked the exact two wrestlers for that task.” PITO SUTE AKInsane LuchadorAGI! It ain't good, it ain't good 'cos you'll get jumped in my hood! PITO SUTE AKInsane LuchadorAGI! It ain't good, it ain't good 'cos you'll get jumped in my hood! As the shouts of Savage ring out, Va'aiga enters the arena through the SWF entrance gate. Instead of his normal boxer's robe the Maori is wearing a VDN T-shirt and holding aloft a customised folding chair with tribal patterns drawn on it. “Va'aiga has come dressed for a fight,” comments Mak. “As opposed to a birthday party?” replies King with a smirk. Va'aiga walks slowly down towards ringside, stopping for his customary shout into the camera - “Insane Luchador! TONIGHT YOU GONNA BURN!” - before rolling into the ring and holding his chair up high for the crowd to see. Funyon blasts out his introduction, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FOLLWING CONTEST IS A FLAMING TABLES MATCH WHERE THE ONLY WAY OTO WIN IS TO PUT YOUR OPONENT THROUGH A TABLE WHICH IS ON FIRE! INTRODUCING FIRST, FROM ROTORUA, NEW ZEALAND... THE MAORI BADASS... VAAAAAAAAAAA'AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGAAAAAAAA!” The lights dim to a near blackout as a lone figure walks into the entrance gate. “Man in the Box” starts up and there is a blue glow lighting up the shadowed figure of the Insane Luchador eminating from his trademark sword of light tubes. BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURN MY EYES! Now you're so damn sure, JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESUS CHRIST! Deny your maker. With the chorus red and black flares light up the arena as The Ill One rushes down to the ring. The lights go back up as The Insane One rolls into the ring. Funyon gets about “AND HIS OPPONENT...” off before he is forced to flee from the ring as Insane Luchador slides his weapon of choice into a free corner and LAUNCHES himself at the Maori, flying in with a forearm that staggers Va'aiga. The Maori swings his chair forcefully but the quicker Insane Luchador ducks and slides towards his stashed “Excalibur”. Va'aiga draws back his chair, The Luchador picks up his makeshift sword and the pair face off. “A fast start from The Insane Luchador,” comments Mak Francis as Nick Soapdish belatedly calls for the bell... DINGDINGDING! “And we're officially under way,” comments Mak. “I think these two have been ready to fight for days now, Mak,” replies King, “There's more than a little tension between the wrestlers.” The Insane Luchador swings his sword o' tubes wildly, Va'aiga backing off a half step to avoid the blow. The Maori responds with a huge overhead swing of his chair, looking to cave in the Luchador's skull. Insane Luchador backs off and with a massive downward slice brings Excalibur down towards the Maori's head but Va'aiga lifts his chair up to block and with a satisfying pop, the sword splinters into a million pieces, showering the ring with fragments of broken glass. The Maori frowns at his opponent. “Now even the ring has become a danger zone,” remarks Mak, “As if this match wasn't dangerous enough already. The Ill One squares up to his massive Maori opponent and begins kicking away at the legs of the Maori Badass. Va'aiga shrugs off the first couple of blows and lashes out with a loose punch, but Insane Luchador springs into a dropkick, knocking the Maori down to one knee and covering the side of his body with fine pieces of glass in the process. The Psychotic Hero smiles and ignores the small trickles of blood coming out of his body as he gets back to his feet. “The Insane Luchador is always to put his body on the line,” starts Mak only to be interrupted by King with a wry comment, “Insane isn't just a title you know Mak!” Seeing Va'aiga still on one knee, Insane Luchador lashes out with a wild roundhouse kick to the back of Va'aiga's head. The Maori roars defiantly and stand up, Insane Luchador taking this rebuttal to his strike well in his stride as he fires himself off the ropes, flying in with another forearm but this time the Maori is wise and adjusts himself to catch the Luchador. With the Luchador trapped to the Maori's chest Va'aiga screams out “DROOOOOOOP!” and backs off a few steps, looking to drive the Ill One down into the canvas but Insane Luchador has NO desire to get Maori Dropped and kicks his legs out, grabbing one of the Maori's arms and taking the big man off his feet with an arm drag! Now both men come up covered in glass fragments, Va'aiga brushing himself down as Insane Luchador takes a moment to consider his next move. Meanwhile the camera focuses in on the timekeeper's table where several bottles of lighter fluid are waiting to be used. “What would your strategy be for this match, King?” asks Mak Francis. “Don't get involved. The Suicide King has always been too important to this company to risk roasting, Mak.” replies King. In the ring Insane Luchador spins towards Va'aiga and attempts to smack the Maori upside his head with a backfist, but Va'aiga ducks and grabs Insane Luchador in a back suplex position. Va'aiga lifts The Ill One up and turns, dumping him crotch first over the top rope to a reflexive chorus of oohs from the men in the audience. Va'aiga points down to the ringside area and the crowd gasps as Va'aiga runs up to the ropes and slingshots himself over, bundling himself and Insane Luchador down to the ring floor in a crumpled heap! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” is the crowd's expert opinion. “Not the last time we'll hear that chant in this match,” predicts Mak Francis. Both wrestlers take time getting to their feet from the ungainly mess of humanity on the floor. Insane Luchador raises first and kicks away a couple of times at the Maori as he stands up. Va'aiga grunts, shaking off the blows and grabs for an arm of Insane Luchador, but Insane Luchador turns the arm wrench round and looses off a crane wing kick. Va'aiga staggers backwards and Insane Luchador uses his catlike balance to hop onto the guardrail, take a few ginger steps and dive off wrapping his arm around Va'aiga's head and driving his cranium down into the ringside mats! The Insane One gets back to his feet and searches under the ring apron for something. “I think we're looking at the debut of the table in this match!” remarks Mak. Rummaging around under the ring The Insane Luchador find what he's looking for – to the surprise of the crowd it's not a table... BUT A LADDER! The crowd busts out a “ESS DUBYA EFF!” chant as Insane Luchador leans the ladder against the ring apron. Insane Luchador checks on Va'aiga who is slowly regaining his feet before rushing up the ladder and jumps off, turning in mid flight and catching Va'aiga with a HUGE plancha! And that earns another “HOLY SHIT!” “Insane Luchador playing to his strengths here, keeping it airborne and keeping it fast,” Mak adds as the crowd takes in the visual spectacle on a SmarkTron replay. The Insane Luchador stands, clutching his ribs and staring down at Va'aiga on the ring floor. With a smirk to himself Insane Luchador reaches into the ring and picks up the chair that Va'aiga was forced to discard earlier. As Va'aiga gets up onto his knees The Ill One holds the chair high above his head and SMASHES the chair into Va'aiga's skull. Va'aiga looks up and ROARS at The Psychotic Hero. Another FAT chairshot crashes into the Maori's cranium and the Maori ROOOOOARS again! “You just CANNOT target that big thick skull!” shouts King, “Va'aiga just does NOT feel pain through it!” With a look like thunder on his face Va'aiga snarls at his Insane opponent and begins wildly throwing lefts and rights into the face of the Ill One. Insane Luchador rocks a little but with his enormous stamina, The Insane Luchador absorbs the force of Va'aiga's rapid blows and grabs for the ladder, overbalancing it so it falls on the Maori with a resounding crash! Va'aiga reels backwards as Insane Luchador runs up the collapsing ladder! Va'aiga clumsily pushes the ladder away but Insane Luchador has already leaped off and he drives his feet into the Maori's oversized gut! “Ugly,” comments King, “but effective.” Dropping down to ground level Insane Luchador takes a top mount on Va'aiga and hammers a few forearms into the face of the Maori. Va'aiga digs deep into his arsenal and wraps his legs around Insane Luchador's back, closing the guard. Unable to get any distance, Insane Luchador is forced to stop striking and draw deep in his wrestling moveset to look for an arm submission, but Va'aiga draws his legs in and attempts to stand, lifting Insane Luchador off the ground. The Ill One releases the hold and drops to the ground. “He had to relinquish the hold, “ commentates Mak, “Or that could have lead to a nasty powerbomb.” Insane Luchador earns a round of flashes from photographers in the crowd as he stylishly kips up and again he moves quickly in, kicking away at the massive form of his opponent. Va'aiga winces a little and backs off, but as Insane Luchador sense a chance and leaps in, Va'aiga ducks and grabs for the ladder, picking it up and swinging it wildly, crashing it into the Luchador's chest. Insane Luchador emits a sharp gasp of air and staggers backwards as Va'aiga carefully places the ladder between the ring apron and guardrail. The Maori quickly grabs Insane Luchador, locks in a solid front facelock, before lifting The Ill One high above his head ina vertical suplex. The crowd counts how long Va'aiga keeps Insane Luchador high in the air. ONE! TWO! THREE! “Look at the strength of the Maori Badass!” calls Mak. FOUR! FIVE! “It's not pleasant to be up in that suplex,” remarks King, “All the blood rushing to your head can cause you to red out.” SIX! SE... and Va'aiga turns a little and finishes the suplex by dumping Insane Luchador back first across the ladder! With little regard for his own safety Va'aiga climbs up onto the ring apron and dives onto Insane Luchador's prone form with an elbow drop! The ladder buckles under the force of the impact and the sheer weight of the Maori. Va'aiga grunts in pain and slides back down to floor level. With Insane Luchador still lying on the ladder, the Maori ducks underneath and TORTURE RACKS THE LADDER! Va'aiga turns so the ladder is parallel to the ring and flips it off his shoulders, crashing it down onto the mat, Insane Luchador underneath! “Va'aiga is busting out some innovative offence tonight King,” Mak comments as Va'aiga picks up the ladder, hooks an arm between the bars and SUPLEXES THE LADDER ONTO THE INSANE LUCHADOR! Deciding he's had enough time on the outside for a while Va'aiga rolls Insane Luchador back into the ring. “This match has already become dangerous and we haven't even got the tables out,” Mak remarks. “Or the fire. Let's not forget about the fire!” King adds. The Maori considers his next move, knowing full well that ANYTHING he does in the ring has the added damage of bits of Exaclibur thrown in. The Maori decides to keep it simple first off, casually dragging Insane Luchador up to his feet, moving round and taking a back waistlock. Insane Luchador struggles to get loose but is unable to prevent Va'aiga from German Suplexing him with AUTHORITY! Insane Luchador bounces off the mat with the impact sending a cloud of light tube dust up from the mat. The exclamation mark is added with a few stiff stomps. Raising his arm up, throwing the Shaka sign and shouting a loud “BOO-YAH!”to the crowd, Va'aiga takes a moment's break from the assault before lining up a headbutt drop on his prone opponent. Insane Luchador, however, has enough wherewithal to roll away and Va'aiga crashes face first into the mat. The Ill One stands and dusts some of the glass off of himself, as Va'aiga looks up, his tattooed face now punctuated by some small trickles of blood. “These guys will take any risks to hurt each other,” comments Mak. “You know these two men Mak. I'm not sure they even feel pain.” King replies as Insane Luchador waits for Va'aiga to stand. Measuring him up, Insane Luchador rushes in and wraps an arm around Va'aiga's neck and snapping off a quick DDT, ramming the Maori's head back into the mat. Insane Luchador grabs Va'aiga's dreadlocks and rubs his face in the mat. Insane Luchador shouts something thankfully not picked up by the ring mic and stands, kicking away at Va'aiga's ribs as the Maori stares up at him though the blood and scowls. Bouncing off the ropes, Insane Luchador leaps into the air and drops a leg across the back of the Maori's neck. Another grunt comes from the Maori as he slowly gets back to his feet, only to be met with a trifecta of rapid roundhouse kicks from Insane Luchador. The Ill One smirks and throws the Shaka sign himself, lining up a head kick from his other leg... only to have his leg caught by Va'aiga! The Maori screams “OH NO YOU DID NOT!” before grabbing Insane Luchador round the waist with his other arm, falls backwards and suplexing Insane Luchador down to the mat. “The lesson here,” says King with a smirk, “is do NOT make fun of the Maori,” Grabbing an arm and hoisting the Insane Luchador up to his feet, Va'aiga uncoils an Irish Whip, flinging Insane Luchador against the ropes. The Luchador rebounds as Va'aiga shapes to shoulder block him down, but Insane Luchador is wise to Va'aiga's basic tactic and leapfrogs over the massive Maori. Insane Luchador's momentum carries him into the ropes on the opposite side and as Va'aiga turns Insane Luchador rolls into a Koppo kick, knocking the Maori down. “Insane Luchador just rolled through glass to lay more hurt on Va'aiga!” Mak shouts. “And I say again. Insane Luchador, the clue's in the name!” replies King. Using the whole of his strength Insane Luchador drags Va'aiga up into an Irish Whip, sending the Maori into the corner. The Ill One backs up into the opposite corner and charges across the ring, flying at Va'aiga knee first and driving his patella into the side of the Maori's skull. More impressively the Luchador grabs onto the ropes to steady himself before bouncing back out, turning in mid flight and hitting Va'aiga with a bulldog on the rebound! “The Insane Luchador is one hell of an athlete!” Mak shouts. The Maori takes his time standing up, allowing The Psychotic Hero time to climb up onto the ropes for the first time in the match. Insane Luchador carefully examines the position of the Maori, lining himself up for a precise move. “The Insane Luchador is going high risk again!” calls Mak Francis. Va'aiga turns slowly to face his opponent, IL jumps off with a cross body with HUGE airtime... BUT VA'AIGA CATCHES HIM AND SNAPS OFF A QUICK MAORI DROP! Va'aiga scoots backwards to create a little space, stands and beckons The Ill One to get up... Va'aiga rushes at the Insane Luchador with malice in his eyes. The Ill One doesn't have time to get away as Va'aiga extends a leg and BLASTS him with a Yakuza kick. Not even pausing to draw breath the Maori picks the Ill One off the mat and fires in one of those famous left jabs. Anticipating what's coming the crowd begins to chant along... ONE! Quickly a second left jab staggers the Luchador, rocking him with a solid connection to the jaw... TWO! A third jab meets the Ill One's chin and the shorter man reels in pain... THREE! Va'aiga pauses to kiss his right fist as the crowd warms up... OoooooooOOOOOOOAAAAAHH... And the Maori fires in that big right hook, sending The Psychotic Hero down to the mat. Everyone in the arena knows what's coming next... a Shaka Sign and a loud BOO-YAH! Not wanting to rest on his laurels, Va'aiga quickly drags the Ill One back to his feet again, drawing Insane Luchador's arm across his own throat. Va'aiga traps this arm in place with a Half Nelson. The blood stained, tattoo marked face of the Maori contorts into a sick smile as he falls backwards and SPLATS Insane Luchador into the canvas head first with the Swiss Suplex! With The Ill One down on the canvas and stunned Va'aiga rolls out of the ring to look for that match winning object. “The Maori Badass is feeling it tonight!” calls Mak. The Maori fumbles around under the ring and grabs a table, sliding it quickly into the ring. Calling over to the timekeeper, Va'aiga gets the bottle of lighter fluid passed up into him as The Ill One lies in the middle of the ring. “This could be it,” calls Mak, “Va'aiga is going for the table.” “It's how you win this sort of match,” points out King sarkily. Carefully setting up the table, Va'aiga looks back to see his opponent has rolled out of the ring! “Insane Luchador, Insane stamina!” shouts Mak Francis. Va'aiga walks over to the ropes, only to be smacked with a MUCH BIGGER LADDER that Insane Luchador has found under the ring. The Maori is taken off balance allowing Insane Luchador time to slide first the ladder, them himself into the ring. Va'aiga backs off, but given a few steps run up decides that it's that time, that stage of the match to go for the NASTY, EVInsane Luchador, VICIOUS, PSYCHOTIC AND OH MY GOD Insane Luchador DUCKS THE LARIAT! Va'aiga's momentum carries him into the ring ropes and as he rebounds Insane Luchador wraps an arm round the Maori's massive neck, jumps a little and SPIKES VA'AIGA WITH THE IMPANT DDT INTO A PATCH OF BROKEN GLASS! “That could be the kill shot... all Insane Luchador has to do is get the Maori Badass through a table!” screams Mak! With his opponent's face now pouring blood, Insane Luchador smiles to himself and liberally douses the table in the ring with lighter fluid. The Ill One slides the Maori onto the table then turns to the ladder and sets it up in the middle of the ring. Insane Luchador climbs about halfway up the ladder and then fumbles around for something stashed on his person. The crowd draws breath in anticipation as Insane Luchador finds what he was looking for – a match! Insane Luchador strikes the match and casually throws it down onto the table SETTING BOTH IT AND THE MAORI ALIGHT! “This is it! The table is alight! All The Insane Luchador has to do is finish the Maori off,” calls Mak “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” is the crowd's considered response. The Ill One looks down at the conflagration as he climbs to the top of the ladder. Looking upwards Insane Luchador grabs hold of the base of the basketball scoreboard and hauls himself up onto the massive suspended structure! Va'aiga still looks out on the table as Insane Luchador turns around, pauses for a second and... LEAPS OFF! TWISTS HIS BODY ROUND IN THE AIR! SAILS GRACEFULLY DOWN FROM 20 FOOT PLUS ABOVE THE RING! AND... CRASHES THROUGH THE BURNING TABLE AS VA'AIGA ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY! “HOLY F'N SHIT! HOLY F'N SHIT!” “You can't afford to take that long!” shouts King as Va'aiga frantically tears off his smoking shirt, “And now Insane Luchador could well have broken something, like EVERY BONE IN HIS BODY!” EMTs rush out from the back to check on Insane Luchador's status as Va'aiga, realising that the match is still not over, rolls out and sets up another table at ringside. An EMT checks The Ill One for consciousness, and The Psychotic Hero defiantly tries to order them away. The crowd drops to a sort of awestruck silence, tinged with more than a little worry for the ever popular Insane Luchador. “This sort of match brings it's own dangers,” comments Mak. “So why do you need to add your OWN extra dangers to the match?” asks King. “That's just the way that these two competitors work, I guess” Spewing forth some choice swear words, The Ill One orders the EMTs to “Back the fuck off” among other things. Attempting to prove his indestructability one more time Insane Luchador, to a round of cheers from the crowd, slowly gathers himself together and stands, turning to look for his opponent who unfortunately has re-entered the ring and started on a charge. The beaten, burned and bloodied Insane Luchador gets a brief seconds respite before being SPLATTERED with a VICIOUS, NASTY, SECOND TIME LUCKY, SUCKS TO BE YET ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE... LAAAAAAAAAARIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATOOOOOOOOOOOO! “THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT!” bawls Mak Francis as Insane Luchador is flipped clean over and collapses in a heap. Va'aiga grabs the loose lighter fluid bottle and squirts the flammable stuff over the table outside the ring. Picking up the near lifeless heap of The Ill One, Va'aiga hauls Insane Luchador over his shoulder and in a final, possibly merciful act, tosses Insane Luchador roughly over the top rope and through the table on the outside. Nick Soapdish calls for the final bell DINGDINGDING! Fortunately for Insane Luchador the EMTs are still milling around the ringside area and quickly put him out again. “THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH... VAAAAAAA'AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIINGAAAAAAAAAAA!” shouts Funyon as Va'aiga throws the Shaka sign and offers a “BOO-YAH!” to the crowd. Va'aiga absorbs the cheers of the crowd but as Insane Luchador, defiant even in defeat, stands up under his own power the crowd noise level raises and eventually the crowd is swept up in appreciation, giving Insane Luchador a standing ovation as he walks back up the entrance ramp. “These two wrestlers have laid their bodies on the line,” says Mak in a solemn voice, “and we got a hell of a match.”

And IL didn't fuck up by using find and replace to look for a few extra words and botch the entrances in the process! Note to self.. do not put yourself under such time pressure that you don't have time to proofread.

Fade the music in on chanting in Samoan... follwed by the distinctive rapping of Pacifika star King Kapisi Yo, yo! The revolution now has just begun! Bring out your generals yah, yah yah! C'mon! This goes out to all the South Pacific islands! All the South Pacific people! This goes out to each and every one worldwide! YO! SAMOA WE GOIN STOMPIN! (Stompin with my big island agendas) AOTEAROA WE GOIN STOMPIN! (Stompin with my big island agendas) OUT IN FIJI WE GOIN STOMPIN! (Stompin with my big island agendas) STOMPIN! (You must be super cool to be down for you now!) And the static on the screen fades into the man, the myth, DA MAORI, Va'aiga! The music lowers so you can hear the shouting... not that you couldn't hear it anyway. But let's make it loud and clear so the targets get the full earful of Maori... Va'aiga: 2nd MIGRATION! AOTEAROA REPRESENT! PACIFIKA REPRESENT! MAORI BADASS IN THE HOUSE ONE MORE TIME! Va'aiga tones his voice down a little, back to a sort of menacing tone so his targets get a fair idea of what may well happen to them. Va'aiga: Let's get to bidness. See people have been talking about the big success story of '08 – El Hombre Sin Nombre. Winner of the Clusterfuck in his debut. Possible future world champ. A man who could go all the way to the TOP. And that's cool. Fresh faces, fresh meat. More ass to whoop. But there's one small, one tiiiiiiiny thing bothering the Maori. See the H to the S to the N, the Pakeha Kore Tau has got a tiny little bit of explaining to do. Credit HAS to be given where it's due. And where credit is due is to Da Maori. Let's shape up a clip... --- Just as Jenkins hooks the Mexican rookie for a suplex Va’aiga realizes what’s going on. He runs into the ropes, bounces back doing his best "unstoppable force" imitation as he targets both of his opponents. Spike lifts El Hombre in the air only a split second before both of them are clobbered by the OH MY GOD YOU JUST KILLED KENNY, SPENNY, LENNY AND BENNY, NOW YOU’RE GOING TO DISNEYLAND LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARIAAAAAAATOOOOOOOO!!!!! "Holy crap! He took them both out!" Mak yelps as Va’aiga crashes into both men with so much force even the guy in the last row felt it. "NO ONE and I mean NO ONE is going to get up from this, ladies and gentlemen let me make a bold prediction: this match is over!" King exclaims. The Mighty Maori has both men covered as the referee goes down to count. … "COUNT!" Mak yells when the referee hesitates. Va’aiga looks at the referee and his murderous intentions are clearly written across his face. The referee tries to save his own hide by pointing out the fact that the impact knocked everyone so close to the ropes that Va’aiga is half way under the bottom rope. The angry Maori gets up, grabs the referee and starts to inform him that he shouldn’t be such a stickler for the rules. ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! *DING!!* DING!!* DING!!* DING!!* "What the hell?" King blurts out as the bell rings. Va’aiga whips around and stares at the two men on the canvas, neither of them have moved since he hit them with the lariat but one of them was laying half way on top of the other one. Then he stares at the other referee that counted to three behind his back "Oh don’t tell me, you’re not saying that… " Mak can’t complete the sentence, it’s unthinkable. The referee that counted to three bends over, grabs and arm and raises the winner of the Clusterf*ck in the air. "Ladies and gentlemen" Funyon starts, sounding totally dumbfounded "Apparently the winner of the Clusterf*ck 2008" Funyon pauses again to make sure he’s understood it correctly "EL HOMBRE SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN NOMBRE!!!" --- Va'aiga: Oh boy. Someone profited on a Lariat. Someone who wasn't ME profited on a Lariat. Now I like you Hombre. I like you enough that I haven't ripped your head off, boiled it up and served it to my family for the mana. But next time we meet you have precisely 30 seconds to explain why I shouldn't whoop your miserable ass all the way from NYC to Cali and back just for the sheer hell of it. That's gonna be an interesting conversation. Think. Think HARD about what you're gonna say to The Maori. Cos I would NOT want to be you if you get it wrong. Been four years since I last had to Stinger someone, after all... The Maori pauses for a drink of water. Va'aiga: So I'm in a bad mood. And when I'm in a bad mood MOTHERFUCKERS GET HURT. And when I'm in a bad mood it would be really bad to be booked against me in say... A BURNING TABLES MATCH! It would be really bad if you were say... a fellow luchador. Oh BOY IL are you in some shit now. IL you've got heart. You've got spirit. You've got talent. And thanks to Maddix you've got a death warrant hanging over your head. So let me apologise in advance for COOKING YOU LIKE A BEEF JOINT IN A PIT. Ain't nothing personal. It's just the way I like to relieve some tension from my system. I'll say that again. Ain't nothing personal. While the EMTs are pouring water over you to put you out – It's nothing personal. While you're lying half conscious backstage getting your body bandaged up – Ain't nothing personal. While you wait in hospital while the docs check you out to see if you're fit to be released – Ain't nothing personal. Every time you turn to the mirror and check out the scarring – Ain't nothing personal. Don't blame the Maori for what's going to happen to you. Blame Maddix. Blame El Hombre. Blame the lust for violence amongst the wrestling fans. Hell blame yourself for being dumb enough to turn up. But keep this one fact in your mind. Cripsy fried Luchador heads the Menu at From the Fire. And there's one Badass Maori chef servin' it up! BOO-YAH! And as the Maori fades out the Samoan chanting starts up again along with the playout sound... Revolution.. The revolution has now just begun The revolution.. has now just be.. just be, just be-be begun The revolution.. has now just begun The revolution.. has now just begun Begun...

I was looking forward to HSN's "Please don't kill me" promo And his super secret secret squirrel plan for his match too...

I'm around