Ace309

This is being edited. Hang on.

It’s noisy in arenas, even in Iowa. They hold a lot of people, and those people aren’t very quiet for long, especially if there’s something worth talking about happening. At the moment, the thing worth talking about is SWF’s family friendly Wednesday night show, Lockdown. To be more specific, it’s the main event. As it does before just about every SWF title match, the Smarktron comes to life, with two men on it. One, with his dirty blonde hair and cocky expression, his eyes staring out from behind the X he’s formed with his forearms, is Spike Jenkins. The other, with his black hair and a blank expression, his eyes not doing much to distract from the 10 pounds of gold on his shoulder, is JJ Johnson. The words “Pure Rules Match” and “Cruiserweight Title” flash up under them, but they’re only there briefly before they and the rest of the graphic are whited out as the lights in the arena go to full blast, the only sound besides the general hubbub in the arena that of a needle on vinyl... *BAM* ...which is soon joined by Black Label, thundering out of the speaker system as the crowd ERUPTS. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! RAAAAAAHHHH!!! The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers, almost drowned out by the excited crowd as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. The uproar doesn’t quiet any as Spike walks out wearing a black hoodie on, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground. He stares at the floor, countless ideas as to what could be running through his head being thrown around amongst the audience before he rises to his feet and begins making his way down the aisle. “Welcome back to Lockdown, everybody! If you’re just tuning in, you missed a hell of a show. This match, however, may very well make up for it.” beams Longdogger Pete. “Is that guy coming down the aisle who I think he is?” asks King. “Yes.” answers Pete. “I suggest they change the channel. And then go take a shower. Or read a book. Anything but watch Hollywood Suc...” says King “...tion cup...” says Pete, making the save. “...Jenkins.” finishes King. “And don’t do that.” adds the Gambling Man as an after thought as the challenger makes his way completely around the ring before rolling under the bottom rope, continuing all the way to the middle before hopping back up to one knee, and the exact same pose he had at the top of the ramp. He’s only there a few seconds before once again, he’s on his feet, this time striding to the second rope and throwing up the signature crossed-arm X that signifies a person’s straight edgedness. “Jenkins is the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time. He is a two-time Cruiserweight Champion. And tonight, he has a chance to make it three, King.” Pete notes. “Yeah, his second reign was pretty long. His first reign, however...” That’s really all King has to say to conjure up memories, but it also confuses Pete. “You remember his first reign?” King looks almost offended. “Of course I remember it! Sure, I missed most of it, but a guy’s gotta blink sometime!” Pete sighs as the lights fade to red and white, and continue flashing, “Make Me Bad” pulsing out of the speakers as the smoke and the sparks make the stage look like a Fourth of July celebration gone horribly, horribly wrong. Iowans are huge marks for the Fourth of July, but there’s no blue to be seen, and those sparks only lead to one thing. And as the guitars kick in, that one thing emerges, the red and white now having competition for people’s eyes. Gold. “Nine days ago, King. Nine days ago, Johnson captured the SWF Cruiserweight Title, dethroning former friend Scott Pretzler.” remarks the Longdogger. “And for that, I’ll never forgive him. That bas...” “..s fisherman!” shouts Pete, making the save once more. “...may have taken the belt off of Pretzler, but he is facing Hollywood Suc...” King continues, miffed at being interrupted in such a silly fashion. “...culent ham!” Pete cries, his mind running rapidly as he continues to think up substitutions for the various expletives King apparently insists on spouting. “...Jenkins. And God...” “...BEAVER!” “...dammit, why do you have to keep doing that? AHHH!!!!” King shouts, realizing that Pete did it AGAIN. Meanwhile, Johnson has de-hooded, and makes his way up the steps as his theme grows nearer the chorus. Once in the ring, Johnson immediately disrobes, practically hurling it at the poor lackey, and skipping his usual second-rope antics. He has no time for theatrics, and therefore the chorus goes unaccompanied in the background. I feel the reason as it’s leaving me, no, not again It’s quite deceiving as I’m feeling the flesh Make me bad After that, the music fades out, leaving the two men to lock eyes before Funyon walks up the steps, microphone in hand, to make the announcements. DING DING DING! “Ahem...ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your MAIN EVENT for this evening, and is to be contested under Pure rules, and it is for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” RAAAAAAAAAAHH!!! “Introducing first the challenger. From Hollywood, California, standing six foot one and weighing in at 220 pounds, he is the New Straight Edge Sensation...HOLLYWOOD! SPIKE! JEEENNNKKIIIINNSSS!!!!” The crowd goes nuts again at the mere mention of the rebel with a cause’s name, and Funyon gives them a moment to quiet down before continuing. “And his opponent, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada. Also standing six foot one, and weighing in at 219 pounds, he is the reigning and defending Smartmarks Wrestling Federation CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION...J...J...JOOOOHHHNNNNSOONNNN!!!” BOO! JEER! GO BACK TO AMERICA JUNIOR! An almost bemused grin comes over the face of both competitors at the sheer idiocy of the man in the crowd, but it soon fades as the two meet in the center of the ring for a better explanation of the rules from Nick Soapdish. “Okay guys, listen up. Hey! Spike! Listen! This is for the Cruiserweight Title, and it’s a pure match. Spike, you know the rules, so you don’t have to listen if you don’t want too, but JJ here needs an explanation.” Spike snickers as he turns away, chatting with Funyon as Soapdish turns his attention to the champion. “Alright, now. The rules are pretty simple. It’s a regular match, but you only get three rope breaks. You lose a rope break when you use the ropes to break up a submission or pinfall...” At this Johnson nods, a smile on his face as all the ways he could take advantage of this run through his head. “...or when you throw a punch.” And at this, Johnson’s face drops, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head at this rule. As the champion throws a miniature tantrum, Soapdish calls Spike over, and orders the two to shake hands. Spike looks at JJ, and JJ looks back at Spike to find one very prominent, digitized for the viewers at home middle finger staring back at him. “Well, there’s a good $1000 out of Spike’s bank account, if you account for his screecy death metal hellfire and brimstone I DING DING DING! “And now we’re subjected to Spike’s prerequisite 8 generations-long matfest. You know, this Pure stipulation is completely unfair to Johnson. He’s an ULTIMATE FIGHTER, for Todd’s sake.” King whines. “Johnson has some very educated feet (Annoying Announcer Cliche Count, or AACC: 1), King. And did you just say Todd?” the Longdogger comments as the challenger extends his hand, offering a good old-fashioned Greco-Roman knuckle lock. Johnson accepts, but before the other can get locked on, Spike has pulled the Canadian towards him, ducking under the arm and bringing it up for a hammerlock. Johnson balls his right hand into a fist, but remembers the rules just in time to not get penalized. He throws an elbow instead, and stuns the New Straight Edge Sensation long enough to duck under into a hammerlock of his own. JJ doesn’t hold it on for long, instead transitioning that into an armwringer, where he raises Jenkins’ arm up before catching the Hollywood Superstar with a straight-legged Muay Thai roundhouse! “Shades of Jamie Drazon with that Muay Thai kick! He may have rattled his brains with that one! (AACC: 2)” says Pete. “Yeah, because Jay Dawg was the only one to use Muay Thai kicks.” says King, rolling his eyes as Jenkins scrambles to his feet, only to be caught in a side headlock by the ultimate fighter. Jenkins lifts the Canadian up, trying to reverse the hold with a back suplex, but the move doesn’t connect as Johnson flips over the straight-edger’s shoulders and sticks his head under the Californian’s arm, trying to set up a back suplex of his own. Jenkins blocks the suplex, and slaps on a side headlock of his own. “Neither man has much of an advantage here in the feeling-out process.” says Pete as Jenkins, still maintaining the hold, backs into the ropes. “What is Jenkins doing!? That moron! Way to work Johnson over, dips-” “-tick candy! I love that stuff, King! How did you know?” “STOP THAT!” The Hollywood Superstar’s intentions become clear, however, as Soapdish informs Johnson that he only has two rope breaks left. “THAT CHEATING...ah, it’s not worth trying just to hear you say stupid stuff.” the Gambling Man gives up as Johnson gets in the face of the challenger, knowing full well that he can’t throw punches, and that a kick from Jenkins, whilst they hurt, would be practically impossible at such a close range. In fact, being practically up the New Straight Edge Sensation’s nose makes only one strike feasible. And he wouldn’t dare try to... SMACK! The crowd ooohs and ahhhs at the guts, or perhaps stupidity, of the Hollywood Superstar as Johnson’s now-handprinted head swivels around from the force. As soon as it’s turned, it immediately snaps back into place, and Johnson’s already scary glare becomes even scarier. Jenkins throws another slap... ...and Johnson’s hand snatches that of the challenger’s out of the sky, throwing it back down before raising his own hand... SLAP! WOOOOOO! SLAP! WOOOOOO! SLAP! WOOOOOO! SLAP! WOOOOOO! ...and unleashing a vicious set of knife-edged chops that sends the soon to be red-chested Spike staggering back. Johnson doesn’t slow a bit, switching from chops to anything that causes his palm to make contact with the skin of the Californian. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Jenkins reaches the ropes and drops down, rolling under the bottom to the outside to quell the onslaught, if only temporarily. The crowd becoming disinterested at once, Jenkins raises his arms into the X part of sXe. RAAAABOOOOOOOO!!!! Jenkins is confused, as he could have sworn he was well-liked. He is. It’s the man coming down the aisle that’s the subject of the fans’ hatred. Well, that and the fact that if he turned around, he would see JJ flying over the top rope, tucking his head forward as he completes his flight right into the spine of the Hollywood Superstar! “Somersault plancha by Johnson, knocking Jenkins to the mat!” shouts Pete. “Who cares about JENKINS? Look! Look who’s coming down the aisle!” And King stands, cupping his hands around his mouth so the man can better hear him shouting his name. “TOM!” And indeed it is the Superior One that is striding towards the ring with what appears to be a book in his hand as Johnson gets to his feet, shaking a few cobwebs out of his head before bringing the New Straight Edge Sensation up to a standing position and rolling him back into the ring before sliding in after him. Flesher, meanwhile, points out a fictional naked woman to the timekeeper before taking the distracted man’s chair and sitting down, cracking open his book and reading as Johnson lets Jenkins get to his feet. “And Flesher sitting here at ringside now, reading...wait...is he reading...” Pete’s voice trails off as he glances at the monitor, which is luckily showing a shot of the front cover of the book Flesher is reading. And although his face may be buried in a book, it’s also emblazoned on the cover. “HE IS! He’s reading his AUTOBIOGRAPHY! I can’t believe this! This is total...” As Pete rambles on, Johnson moves in on the now-standing Jenkins and spins around, his foot whipping towards... WHIFF! ...make that OVER the Hollywood Superstar’s head, Jenkins ducking before shooting in and pulling Johnson’s other leg out from under him, dropping him on his face before pulling his arm up behind his neck and locking in a crossface, better known as the Strong Island Stretch! The positioning isn’t the best, as Johnson is immediately able to grab the ropes. The hand is on there for a second before he immediately takes it off, as though the rope were on fire, but Soapdish has already spotted it, and forces Spike to break the hold. “And Johnson is down to one rope break, while Jenkins still has all three!” Pete allows himself to gloat slightly, which only serves to annoy the Gambling Man. “He’s just getting used to this kind of match! Give the man a break!” says King, making some very good excuses for Johnson’s behavior. Johnson is just as aggravated as the King of Hearts, swearing (under his breath, of course) as he pulls himself to his feet. Jenkins then moves in on the Canadian and catches him with a shotei, pausing to throw a cocky grin at the Superior One before whipping him to the ropes. Well, trying anyway, as Johnson reverses and throws the challenger to the tight cables around the ring. Jenkins bounces back, but isn’t upright for long as he drops to the mat and attempts a soccer tackle! Johnson is too quick, however, and he dives over the Hollywood Superstar, rolling as he hits the ground before turning around and locking on a dragon sleeper! Both Johnson and Jenkins rise, Jenkins throwing a series of slaps and forearms in an attempt to loosen the Canadian’s grip. Johnson refuses to let go, however, and so Jenkins is forced to do something the stipulation frowns upon, sending a straight right hand right into Johnson’s recently re-set nose! “CHEATER! CHEATER! FOUL!” says both King AND Flesher, the Superior One screaming loud enough to be heard on camera as the champion immediately relinquishes his grip, tending to his nose. Jenkins backs into the corner, both attempting to formulate a plan of attack and completely ignore Soapdish’s telling him he’s down to two as Johnson recovers, blinking to get the involuntary tears out of his eyes before turning... ...and getting his head taken off with a WHAT A ROUGH NIGHT YOU’RE HAVING, FIRST YOUR NOSE AND NOW YOUR NECK LARIATOOOOOOOOO~! Jenkins covers! ONE! TWO! But Johnson hasn’t taken enough damage for the lariat, as effective as it may be, to put him down, and he shoots his shoulder off the mat. Jenkins makes the cover again, hooking the leg with one arm and setting his forearm across the bridge of Johnson’s nose with the other. ONE! TWHAP! Jenkins didn’t account for the unhooked leg, and so instead of falling for the old forearm on the nose trick again, Johnson bounces his foot off of the back of Jenkins’ head! “Brilliant! Instead of stupidly subjecting himself to another torturous broken nose, Johnson kicks Jenkins’ head off!” shouts King, Flesher applauding as Johnson sits up, shaking his head before standing and pulling the New Straight-Edge Sensation by his leg to the ropes, setting it on the bottom before engaging in a time-tested, Lou Thesz-approved maneuver, leaping into the air before coming down on Spike’s leg. Jenkins grabs at his knee, pulling it off the rope, but Johnson just puts it right back on and leaps again, again coming down on the now-wounded limb. “Good strategy here by Johnson, working the leg. Can’t fight if you can’t stand up. (AACC: 3)” says the Longdogger as Johnson grabs Jenkins by the hair... ...but Jenkins sweeps his leg around and takes Johnson down to one knee, before spinning to his feet and rushing, stepping up and bringing his leg around for a Dangerous Wizard! But Johnson ducks, the challenger’s foot flying harmlessly overhead, Jenkins landing on his stomach. The wind is knocked out of him slightly, but that’s soon a moot point, as Johnson grabs hold of his foot and begins to twist with a heel hook! “Heel hook! That modified ankle lock is applied perfectly, and it could be enough for Johnson to retain the belt!” gloats the King of Hearts as Jenkins manages to get up, hopping on one foot as Johnson stands to better apply the hold. Jenkins turns, still hopping, and locks eyes with the champion before bringing his leg around for an enziguiri! But again, Johnson ducks, and smiles widely as Jenkins lunges for the ropes upon landing, the Canadian jerking the challenger back so as to prevent another break. Jenkins almost loses his balance, but manages to stay upright as JJ continues to twist, knowing that there’s little the New Straight-Edge Sensation can do now, except submit, or do what Johnson would do, which is leap and kick his opponent square in the nose with a thrust kick. BAM! Like so, Johnson immediately dropping the foot and grabbing at his face once more as Flesher gets out of his chair, moving closer to the ring to get a better view of the action, shouting to either comfort the champion or egg him on as Jenkins pulls himself up on the ropes, hobbling slightly. Johnson turns, and Jenkins is on the attack, trying to ignore the pain in his leg as he throws a roaring elbow! CRACK! Johnson goes down hard, and Jenkins dives on top for the cover! ONE! TWO! TH-KICKOUTFOOTONTHEROPESATTHESAMETIME! Johnson shoots a shoulder off the ropes, and Flesher drapes his foot over the bottom rope in almost the same instance, but it’s the foot that Soapdish notices, and immediately informs the champ that he’s out of rope breaks. Jenkins, meanwhile, tries the forearm trick once more, only for Johnson to catch him with a right hook to the jaw! Soapdish’s eyes grow wide, and he immediately begins to signal for the be- “NICK!” Soapdish turns, and sees Flesher calmly shaking his head no. The ref is confused, but realizes that the man signs one-third of his paychecks. “What the? Johnson was out of ropebreaks! He punched him! That should be a disqualification!” cries Pete. “Tom Flesher is bending the rules just to prevent Spike from winning! This is an injustice!” “Who are you, Cyclone Comet? Get over it.” mutters King as Jenkins stands, looking at Soapdish in disbelief before turning to look at the real culprit. An arrogant smirk grows across Flesher’s face, but Spike has no time to worry about that, as Johnson has risen and grabs Spike in a rear waistlock! Jenkins grabs the ropes, but Johnson pulls him away almost instantly, and lifts him for a German! Spike blocks, and lunges for the ropes again, expending his last rope break as the ref gets in Johnson’s face, not even looking at the challenger. Which is unfortunate, because then he would notice Tom Flesher and his nice new rings up on the apron. “Say, that’s some neat jewelry Flesher’s got! Interesting choice of metals, though. I mean, honestly, who decided BRASS was a cool metal to use for jewelry?” asks King, but Pete knows the truth. “Wait a minute. Those aren’t rings, those are...” CRACK! BOOOOOOOOO! “...knuckles.” finishes Pete as Spike’s eyes glaze over, Johnson rolling back with the waistlock for a cradle as the ref counts. ONE! TWO! THREE! “Make Me Bad” strikes up as a very confused that he won with a cradle Johnson is handed the title, rolling out of the ring as that confused look never leaves his face. “Here is your winner, and STILL Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Cruiserweight Champion, J...J...JOHNSON!” BOOOOOO! “This is a travesty! Flesher cracks Jenkins in the skull with those brass knuckles, and Johnson didn’t even see it! Johnson doesn’t even know it was Flesher who won the match for him!” Pete complains. “Well, that’s what you get for crossing the Superior One.” is all King cares to say as Flesher stays on the apron, staring at the Hollywood Superstar with a sly smile on his face, one that would surely enrage the New Straight-Edge Sensation. If he weren’t busy staring at the ceiling. ===== SWF Lockdown, August 24, 2005. © Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: "Raising Workrate by Typing Faster."

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the National Anthem.” Funyon steps into the center of the ring, clears his throat, and begins to sing. Down went the gun-ner, a bul - let was his fate Down went the gun-ner, and then the gun-ner's mate Up jumped the sky pi-lot, gave the boys a look And manned the gun him-self as he laid a-side TheBook, shout-ing: "Praise The Lord, and pass the am-mu-ni-tion! Praise The Lord, and pass the am-mu-ni-tion! Praise The Lord, and pass the am-mu-ni-tion and we'll all stay free! Praise The Lord, and swing in-to po-si-tion, Can't af-ford to sit a-round a'-wish-in' Praise The Lord, we're all be-tween per-dition and the deep blue sea!" Yes the sky pi-lot said it You've got to give him cred-it for a son-of-a-gun of a gun-ner was he, Shouting: "Praise The Lord, we're on a might - y mis-sion! All a-board! We're not a - go - in' fish-in', Praise The Lord, and pass the am-mu-ni-tion and we'll all stay free." The Des Moines crowd cheers loudly for the blindly patriotic anthem, “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition,” as the show fades to its opening montage.

Family friendly lockdown returns with the face of Ben Hardy smiling on the Smarktron. The familiar Lockdown backdrop is soon covered by two bodies. The scrawny, weak body of Ben Hardy. And the athletic, energetic flare of a body that belongs to the number one contender for the International Title…yeah it’s Zyon!!! YEAHHHH The crowd screams as the Unique Youth patiently waits for Hardy to do a job where egotistical birds like to shove him to the side. Hardy speaks… “I am here with Zyon for one reason and one reason only, and that is to ask…” “How many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?” Zyon interrupts getting laughs from many in the arena. And Hardy falls right into the palm of his hand by actually answering! “Ugh…three?” Zyon is dumbfounded…. “Dude…ARE YOU KIDDING? It’s at least four.” “No I’m pretty sure it’s three.” “Look…actually never mind. Now about that Jay Hawke challenge.” Zyon hints to the interviewer what was originally supposed to be asked. “Oh yeah. Earlier tonight Jay Hawke said not only don’t you deserve a title shot, but that he challenges you in a non title match. If you lose your title shot at Genesis is void.” BOOOOO! The crowd boos the stipulation. “You know Hardy the how many licks question is one that has no answer, but really doesn’t matter. Kind of like Jay Hawke’s title reign. I mean the boy showed he could face the heavyweights in Manson and Arch Griffon. One of which isn’t really active anymore, but that doesn’t matter. Nope not trying to downplay Harvey’s accomplishments at all. Now his next great step into greatness involves him challenging me to a non title match, one in which if I lose…then I lose my title shot.” “That is correct.” Hardy adds before Zyon continues. “Well lets look at it this way Hawke has gotten me to tap out after a cheap shot during an in ring interview. And I have beaten him in a tag match. So by some accounts we are pretty much even. But by my accounts I’d say were are far from even. Now at Ground Zero I lost the Hardcore title, but I refuse to soil my accomplishments with that belt by throwing a tantrum and stating I was beat in a triple threat match. Seriously Hawke listen to me, just stop. However, I know for a fact that you’re not going to listen to me. I get it you’re the bird and I’m the worm. I’m pretty much not worth your time. Yet at every opportunity you have given me an escape, you have given me some of your time. And once again I will make you pay for that.” YEAHHHHH! “Monday. Smarkdown. You and me non title. No problem. I officially accept. Hawke I’m supposedly still new to the business. And you know what your absolutely right. Which is why its all that more dangerous to give a young man like me an inch. Cause an inch is what won me the hardcore title. An inch is what gave me victories over Todd Cortez and JJ Johnson. Hell an inch is what let me pin you last week. I’m done with inches, Jay. I’m going to walk a mile…all just to make you pay.” And with that Zyon winks at the camera before walking off leaving the SWF to go to commercial.

Pete: “And welcome back to family-friendly Lockdown, as we get ready for what certainly appears to be a very interesting contest. International Champion Jay Hawke, fresh off of his upset loss to Zyon last week, will meet the undefeated newcomer, Devon Walters.” King: “I hate seeing matches like this. I was hoping this Walters guy would do battle with Landon Maddix or somebody like that. Instead they put him in there with Jay Hawke, who I don’t think has stopped throwing things across the dressing room in five days.” Pete: “This is definitely going to be quite the contrast in styles, as we go up to Funyon in the ring for the opening introductions.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit.” The lights fade out, and the opening strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” come over the public address system. As a lone spotlight shines on the aisle way, Jay Hawke emerges, stepping into the light to allow it to illuminate his sequined purple and black robe. He then makes his way to the ring, focused on his opponent as the crowd begins its favorite chant: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” Hawke ignores the jeers of the crowd, and he walks to the ring. He steps onto the apron, wipes the soles of his boots on the apron, then steps through the ropes, removing his robe to show off his beautiful International Championship belt. As he folds his robe and hands it to the ring attendant, Funyon goes into his introduction. Funyon: “Introducing firdt, from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … he weighs in at 215 pounds … he is the current SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” “WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!* WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!* WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!*” Hearing this new chant, Jay Hawke becomes increasingly riled up, kicking the bottom rope as he yells at the fans to shut up. However, his opponent isn’t Zyon. As we clearly see, The lights dim to near darkness and a lone spotlight strikes the stage as Matthew Walters appears from behind the curtain and Devon follows behind. No music plays at all as the duo walks to the ring, only the sounds of the crowd and Funyon can he heard… “Ladies and Gentlemen…coming to the ring at this time…being accompanied by Matthew Walters…weighing in at three hundred and thirty five pounds…. DEVON WALTERS!” The expressions on the faces of the two men don’t change as Devon climbs the ring steps and enters the ring while Matthew takes his place at the same corner, his eyes always on his younger brother. Devon takes a stance facing the opponent. Pete: “This is certainly the largest opponent Jay Hawke has faced since entering the SWF six months ago, so he’d better be ready.” King: “And honestly, he was embarrassed by Zyon last week. I doubt very highly he’s even thinking about Devon Walters. He might be thinking solely about Zyon and Genesis VI, which could be his downfall.” *DING DING DING!* Pete: “There’s the bell, and this one is officially underway.” Both men stand in their respective corners at first, with neither man willing to make the first move. Some fans begin clapping, getting louder and louder in anticipation of the first move. That move is done by Jay Hawke, who charges Devon Walters, only to get taken down with a hard shoulder tackle. Hawke quickly gets to one knee after hitting the mat, obviously trying to think of another strategy. Pete: “Jay Hawke apparently went right for a hit-and-run attack, but Devon Walters wasn’t falling for that one there.” King: “Well, I think Hawke’s going to have to find a way to take Walters down if he wants to win this one, and trust me, Hawke’s going to figure that out how to do that in fairly short order.” Jay Hawke gets to his feet. He moves in and locks up with Devon Walters, but Walters simply pushes Hawke down to the mat. Hawke slaps the mat in quick frustration, but as he gets to his feet, Walters is there with one hard right hand that knocks Jay Hawke down to the canvas. Jay Hawke rolls out of the ring to think of a new strategy, and Devon Walters heads to his side of the ring to get some advice from his brother. ONE! King: “And this is exactly what Hawke needs to do right now. He needs to clear his mind and slow this match down until he can figure something out.” THREE! “WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!* WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!* WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!*” The chant from the crowd has Hawke in a frenzy, as he tries to cover his ears to drown it out. Pete: “Look at this! Hawke seems unable to move on from that match on Storm!” King: “Showmanship, that’s all.” Pete: “Right.” EIGHT! Jay Hawke rolls back into the ring, then turns to yell at the crowd. He’s obviously forgotten who his opponent actually is, as Devon Walters slowly moves toward him with a huge smile on his face. Hawke turns around, and Walters simply reaches out with his huge right arm and grabs Jay Hawke by the throat. Referee Scott Ryder begins a disqualification count, but Walters lifts Hawke up by the throat with that right arm and tosses him hard into the turnbuckle. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Walters moves in slowly, possibly telegraphing his next move. He approaches the Dean of Professional Wrestling and throws a hard elbow, catching the International Champion hard in the face. Walters elbows Hawke in the face again, then begins unloading a series of kicks that brings the crowd into a frenzy. *THWACK!* “OHHHHHH!” *THWACK!* “OHHHHHHHHH!” *THWACK!* “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” *THWACK!* “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” *THWACK!* “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Devon Walters finishes the series off with a hard kick that catches Hawke in the temple… *THWACK!* “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …and the International Champion slumps into the corner, clearly out on his feet. “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Pete: “Oh my! That hard series of elbows and kicks into the face, and Jay Hawke might be completely out cold!” King: “And every one of those kicks was illegal. Jay Hawke was in the ropes, and you’re not supposed to hit your opponent when he’s in the ropes.” Pete: “That sounds like it’s right up your alley.” King: “Oh, I never said it wasn’t a good move. I just said it was illegal.” Taking advantage with Hawke being slumped in the corner, Walters backs up a few steps and charges again. He connects with a knee to Hawke’s face, the force of wish sends Hawke to the mat and rolling out of the ring to the concrete floor. Pete: “Dear God! All of these hard blows from Devon Walters, and Jay Hawke is down and out on the floor!” King: “He might want to just sit out there and take the countout. If that’s even his choice at this point after dealing with that.” THREE! Devon Walters decides to take advantage of his opponent being in horrible shape. He steps through the ropes to the arena floor. With Hawke still down on the cold concrete floor, Walters picks Hawke up, presses him over his head, then brings him into the ring by throwing him over the second rope. Pete: “Unbelievable power!” King: “No it’s not! The guy’s over seven feet tall, over 330 pounds, and he’s in there with a guy who might be a terrific wrestler but is still a cruiserweight! He’d better be able to show this kind of power!” Walters returns to the ring, and he pulls Jay Hawke up to his feet. He levels Hawke with a hard European uppercut that sends the champion flying back into the corner. Hawke again slumps down in the corner, and Walters charges toward him again. This time, however, Hawke is able to move to his side just in time, and Devon Walters’ knee crashes hard into the top turnbuckle. Walters falls to the mat, clutching at his knee as Hawke uses the ropes to try to pull himself to his feet. Pete: “And that could be the break the champion needed! Jay Hawke moves out of the way out of sheer instinct, and his larger opponent could be feeling the effects of an injured knee!” King: “And this could be an interesting change of pace for Jay Hawke, as he rarely focuses on an opponent’s leg since he tries to set up for the Wing Span. I’m curious about what he does from here!” Jay Hawke stomps Walters’ knee, trying to shake off the effects of the opening few minutes while still working on the knee. Hawke then drops an elbow across his opponent’s knee. And another. And another. Hawke then drives a knee into the side of Walters’ knee, pulling on the toe and yanking with all the pressure he can muster. Pete: “Toehold with the knee driven into the leg, and that’s a solid move by the International Champion.” King: “He has to try to keep to the knee and keep Walters down. That’s the only way he’s going to be able to survive this match!” Jay Hawke releases the pressure, but he’s careful to keep stomping the knee as he does. Getting a grip on Walters’ foot, he turns his larger opponent over and locks in an inside stepover toehold, then spins around and leans in, grabbing Devon’s head into a crossface. Pete: “STF by the champion! A sound move to tear away at that knee!” King: “And also to potentially work the neck for a shot at the Wing Span later on, but I’m not sure Hawke’s got this move on as well as he’d like considering he’s got a 7’3” opponent in the hold!” Indeed, Hawke is struggling to maintain his grip on the hold, so he lets it go. He still gets a few more stomps into the knee, then drives another elbow into the side of the leg. Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by, 15 minutes remain in the time limit.” Jay Hawke then gets back to his feet, grabs Devon Walters’ foot, gets a few more kicks into it, then drops a leg across the side of the leg. Jay Hawke keeps the leg over the knee, then maneuvers himself until he has his opponent’s legs tied up into… Pete: “An Indian deathlock!” King: “What a move! Most wrestlers wouldn’t even know what this move looks like, but Jay Hawke has this one executed to perfection! Beautifully done!” Pete: “And the ropes might be the only way for Walters to get out of this one!” Indeed, Devon Walters does reach the ropes to force Hawke to release the hold, only because Matthew Walters pushes the bottom rope forward for him to grab a hold of. Jay Hawke maintains the pressure on the hold until referee Scott Ryder reaches the count of four, releasing it just before he would have been disqualified. Jay Hawke then tries to pull Devon Walters out to the center of the ring, only getting a couple of inches away from the ropes at a time. Pete: “Jay Hawke is trying to get Walters back toward the center of the ring, but he’s so big that Hawke can’t get very far with him!” King: “But as tall as Devon Walters is, if you don’t get him out to the center of the ring, you can beat him without him using a rope break.” Jay Hawke goes into a spinning toehold, probably attempting a figure-four leglock, but Devon Walters uses his free leg to send Jay Hawke chest-first into the turnbuckle. Hawke staggers out of the corner, and Walters lifts Hawke up as if to flapjack him. Walters puts as little weight on his right knee as he can as he turns around and drops Jay Hawke head first onto the top turnbuckle. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Pete: “Oh my! Walters just caught Jay Hawke with the Payback, and if he wanted to cover him, he could probably get the win right there!” King: “I don’t know, Pete. Hawke’s done a lot of damage to that knee already, and that’s going to make Devon Walters even slower than usual!” Walters gets to his feet, shaking the right leg to regain the circulation in it. Jay Hawke pulls himself to his feet and turns around, only to get caught in the head with a hard Yakuza kick. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Pete: “The Consequence by Devon Walters, and I think he completely knocked Hawke out right there!” King: “I think you’re right!” Pete: “And Walters is going for the pin!” ONE! TWO! THR -- Jay Hawke rolls the right shoulder up. Still slightly favoring the leg, Walters gets to his feet, dragging Jay Hawke right up with him. He quickly grabs Hawke in a front facelock and drives his head to the mat with a hard DDT, then goes for the cover again. ONE! TWO! THR -- Jay Hawke rolls the left shoulder off of the mat. Pete: “A couple of near falls for Devon Walters, and he’s got Jay Hawke in major trouble here!” King: “And I don’t think Jay Hawke can afford to lose this match if he wants any momentum at all heading into that huge match with Zyon in a few weeks!” Undaunted, Devon Walters once again pulls his opponent to his feet. He levels the International Champion with a series of hard right hands, holding Hawke by the back of the head to prevent him from falling down. Hawke’s body is completely limp, and the crowd begins cheering to show its approval of Hawke basically getting his own ass handed to him on a silver platter. Devon Walters then whips Jay Hawke hard into the turnbuckle. Only Hawke having his arms over the top rope is keeping him on his feet as Walters limps into the corner for a charge. Hawke lifts a boot to the face that stops Walters in his tracks and turns Walters into the opposite direction. Hawke then dives forward, driving a shoulder into the back of his larger opponent’s right knee. Pete: “Oh my God! Jay Hawke just took Walters down hard with a chop block, and I don’t think anybody’s knee is meant to bend like that!” King: “And these blows to the knee and leg are the only thing that has kept Jay Hawke in this match for this long!” Hawke once again shakes his head to try to get his bearings together. Seeing his opponent down on his stomach, Hawke simply grabs the right leg and sits back, getting on a makeshift half Boston crab. Pete: “And Hawke’s going right back to work on that knee, trying to keep his opponent down on the mat!” King: “That’s smart wrestling, Pete! And let’s face it. I’m sure Walters can take one hell of a beating. But if you work on one body part long enough, any opponent, no matter how tough, is eventually going to have to give in!” Devon Walters begins to crawl toward the ropes, but Jay Hawke releases the hold just long enough to put his foot in the bend of the back of the knee and stomp down, driving the knee into the mat. Jay Hawke then goes back into the half crab, this time driving a knee into the upper back of Walters. Hawke pulls back for added pressure, and the crowd decides they’ve had enough of Jay Hawke on offense for one evening: “WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!* WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!* WE WANT ZY-ON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!*” Jay Hawke begins cursing at the crowd, and his distraction is lowered just a little bit, as he takes his knee off of Devon Walters’ back. Pete: “This is very unlike Jay Hawke. He has completely let the crowd get to him tonight.” King: “Do you think Jay Hawke is seeing Zyon when he locks these moves on Devon Walters?” Pete: “If he’s doing that, he might end up losing this matchup here tonight.” Jay Hawke, realizing he’s lost much of the leverage, lets go of the hold. He gets a couple of extra stomps to the knee, then turns Walters over onto his back. Jay Hawke then grabs the left leg, twisting it into a spinning toehold. He then places Walters’ left leg over the already-worked on right leg, sitting back into a figure-four leglock. Jay Hawke lets out a “WHOO” as the crowd begins to boo. Pete: “And the International Champion has the figure-four applied!” King: “And he’s got it on better than anybody I’ve seen in years! Notice he’s put all the pressure on the right leg! Most wrestlers work the left leg and put the pressure on the right leg, but Hawke’s got the pressure on the leg he’s been working on for the duration of the match!” Devon Walters reaches behind him for the ropes, but his shoulders fall to the mat: ONE! TWO! T -- shoulder up. Pete: “And Walters needs to be careful he doesn’t get pinned in this hold right here!” ONE! TWO! TH -- shoulder up. King: “Like that?” Pete: “Exactly.” Jay Hawke smiles, thinking he has things well in hand, but Devon Walters isn’t through yet. He grits his teeth and lifts an arm into the air, trying to turn Jay Hawke over. Hawke tries to fight it, but Walters’ superior strength wins out as he turns over onto his back. Jay Hawke lets out a scream as Scott Ryder goes from asking Walters if he quits to asking Jay Hawke if he quits. Pete: “Devon Walters has turned Hawke onto his stomach and reversed the pressure of the hold!” Funyon: “Ten minutes have gone by, ten minutes remain in the time limit!” King: “This is essentially an inverted Indian deathlock, and that has to turn the tide of this match!” Jay Hawke quickly reaches forward and grabs the ropes to force the break. However, Hawke’s the one who put the move on, so rather than count to five, Scott Ryder moves in and breaks up the hold himself. Both men pull themselves to their feet, but both men are limping from the effects of the hold. Pete: “And the hold is broken, but both men are hurting here!” King: “And I don’t see how either man can continue much longer. This has been one of the most grueling matches I’ve seen in my life.” Both men limp into the center of the ring. Jay Hawke comes in and catches Devon Walters with a forearm to the face. Devon Walters retaliates with a harder forearm that backs Hawke up a few steps. Hawke moves in and gets another forearm smash in. Walters again retaliates, sending Hawke back into the ropes. Walters moves in, catching Jay Hawke with a quick series of forearms that once again slumps Hawke against the ropes. Walters rears back and fires, catching Hawke with a European uppercut that stands the International Champion up and sends saliva flying across the ring. Walters grabs a hold of Hawke and whips him into the ropes on the other side. Walters ducks his head for a backdrop, but Jay Hawke moves in and takes Devon down with a swinging neck breaker. Hawke immediately goes for the cover, but he’s too worn down to hook the leg: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Pete: “Only the count of two. Devon Walters with plenty of fight left in him!” King: “But how much fight is left in him, really? He’s had his knee worked on for the better part of twelve minutes at this point.” Not thinking clearly after taking a few too many blows to the head for one night, Jay Hawke slowly begins to climb up onto the middle turnbuckle. Devon Walters pulls himself to his feet, and Jay Hawke leaps, taking Walters down with a blockbuster neck breaker. The crowd boos Hawke as he crawls over into another weaker than normal cover: ONE! TWO! THR -- shoulder up. King: “And not the usual authoritative kickout by Devon Walters there, was it?” Pete: “Certainly not, and we’re getting to the point where stamina’s going to play a key factor, and I would think Hawke’s got the edge in the stamina department.” Jay Hawke pulls Devon Walters to his feet … well, about as much as one can pull someone with a 120-pound weight advantage to their feet, at any rate. He locks his opponent into a front facelock, pointing at a fan in the front row sporting the brand-new “Zyon: Unique Youth” T-shirt. He sets up for the DDT, but Walters plants his left leg on the mat behind him, blocking the hold. He then lifts Jay Hawke off the mat and tosses him forward. Hawke hits the mat hard, bouncing off the mat and rolling into the corner. Walters quickly drops to one knee, and Jay Hawke pulls himself to his feet. Walters also pulls himself to his feet as Hawke charges in, and Walters catches him coming in with a hard lariat that spins Hawke in mid-air. Pete: “Walters with that Nirvana clothesline from Hell, and that one has to do it!” King: “He hit him so hard, Jay Hawke did a complete 360 in mid-air! How Hawke’s head is still on his shoulders is completely beyond me there!” Devon Walters limps over to Jay Hawke and picks him up, setting him up for a vertical suplex. Walters holds Hawke in mid-air, letting the blood flow to Hawke’s head. He holds him up for ten, twelve, fifteen seconds… … …until his knee buckles. Devon Walters falls to the canvas, with Jay Hawke landing on top of him. ONE! TWO! THR -- Devon Walters throws Jay Hawke off of him, sending the International Champion all the way to the arena floor. “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Pete: “What a kickout!” King: “I think Jay Hawke has spent almost as much time on the arena floor as he has in the ring tonight!” Pete: “Well, there’s no doubt that Jay Hawke is going to return to the ring this time. He’s already making his way back to the apron.” Jay Hawke steps back into the ring, but he immediately gets caught by Devon Walters’ boot to the side of the head. Hawke drops to one knee, and Devon Walters backs up a couple of steps, limping in with a hard forearm smash to the face. Hawke backs into the ropes again, and Walters take a few more steps backwards. Walters again limps forward, a bit faster than last time, but Jay Hawke jumps up and plants both feet into Walters’ right knee. Devon falls to the mat clutching his knee… Pete: “Dropkick right to that knee that Hawke’s been working on all night!” …and Hawke quickly goes down and cradles both of Devon Walters’ legs, getting his shoulders onto the mat: ONE! Jay Hawke puts both feet up on the middle rope. TWO! “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” THREE! *DING DING DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Pete: “Not like that! Jay Hawke had his feet on the ropes during that pinfall!” King: “But Scott Ryder didn’t see it. Bottom line, Scott Ryder didn’t see it!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 13 minutes 36 seconds, the winner of this contest … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWKE!” Jay Hawke quickly rolls out of the ring and grabs the International Title belt off of the timekeeper’s table as Matthew Walters enters the ring to argue with referee Scott Ryder. Pete: “Matthew Walters is arguing about the decision, but referee Scott Ryder’s decision is going to wind up being final here.” King: “And you have to give Jay Hawke credit there. For the first several minutes of this match, his mind was clearly focused on Zyon and not on Devon Walters. He was able to get his focus back where it should have been, and once again he found a way to win.” Pete: “But will he able to find a way to win once he and Zyon step in the ring together?” King: “I’m sure he will. He only needs one match to prove to the world how much better he is.” Pete: “Jay Hawke and Zyon will meet … well, after Hawke’s interview earlier, probably as early as Monday night. But we still have the cruiserweight championship on the line tonight. Don’t go away!”

Backstage, Melissa Fasaki waits patiently in the locker room of the Wildchild. He’s already been gone for a little bit and with no match scheduled she didn’t expect him to take this long. When the door finally opens and the Bahama Bomber woefully steps in, Melissa rises to her feet. “So,” Melissa playfully says, “did ya talk to him yet?” “Yeah, I caught him backstage at Lockdown,” Wildchild responds before sighing under his breath. He lowers his head almost sorrowfully. Right then, Melissa knows that it’s not the time to joke about the situation. She had hoped that this little event could be dealt with rather swiftly so they could move on to more pressing matters at hand, but apparently this one wasn’t going to go away so easily. “I tried ta’ reason wit him.,” Wildchild continues, moving towards the sofa. He grabs a cup of coffee that Melissa has waiting for him. “I tried ta’ make him realize jus how far away he’s managed ta’ take himself, but he jus wasn’t listening ta’ me.” “I hate to say it, Dominic, but maybe he isn’t worth the trouble. I mean, yeah, I realize he’s been your tag partner for years and a good friend to you, but he’s not even the same guy anymore. I’ve seen him – the way he talks – and I’ll tell you what I see is an obsessed man. Johnny Dangerous is so obsessed with the World Title that not only was he willing to come close to injuring my brother…but I’d bet my last dollar that he’d do it again, without a second thought, in order to keep that belt to himself. He doesn’t even care about the fans anymore…and that man was a crowd whore!” “I know ‘dis, Melissa,” Wildchild nods his head as he slowly stirs his coffee. “Hell, it doesn’t even look like he cares about the team—Wild and Dangerous—and before the team meant everything to both of you. Now it’s just you. Have you seen him with his half of the Tag Team Championship lately; I know I sure haven’t. He’s going to ruin your career if you don’t distance yourself from that man.” “I just can’t give up on him. Johnny Dangerous is like a brother ‘ta me. He’s always been ‘der when I needed help so I ‘dink it’d be pretty crappy of me ‘ta just turn my back ‘ta him when he needs my help.” “When has he helped you?” Melissa questions the Wildchild, completely taken back from the suggestion. “I’ve sat backstage and watched on monitors as Revolution Zero ganged up on you, as Scott Pretzler pounded on you, and not once did Johnny Dangerous ever come down to lend a hand to you. Face it, Dominic, this has been a long time in the running and it’s time to finally cut the strings. It’s time to end Wild and Dangerous before that man wrecks the entire legacy of the team and destroys it trying to inflate his own selfish ego.” Look, Melissa,” Wildchild sternly says. “That man—Johnny Dangerous--he saved my life once so I’ll be damned if I don’t try and save him…from himself. Yeah, he’s acting irrational. He’s blaming everyone else for ‘da fans turning on him. Hell, he’s even given me ‘da cold shoulder. Ever since Johnny won that stinkin’ belt he’s decided not ‘ta come ‘ta SWF shows an instead party it up across ‘da country. However,” says Wildchild, pausing as he holds up a finger. “I know ‘dat der is something else going on here. I ‘dink ‘dat Johnny is jus running from himself. He may not ever admit it and right now he’s acting like a prima donna, but I ‘dink deep down he knows he ain’t right. I jus need to help him realize ‘dat…and giving up on him isn’t ‘da way ta do ‘dat!” Melissa shakes her head disapprovingly. She knows that she won’t be able to talk Wildchild out of it once he’s made his mind up. Even if she knows that it’s a lost cause. “Alright, Dominic, go save your friend then,” she finally says… As We: FADE OUT.

SWF Lockdown returns from yet another monotonous session of pandering for your money to a shot of the inside of the Veteran’s Memorial Auditorium, packed to the brim with overexcited Iowans. The buzz in the air is palpable as the crowd waits anxiously for the next segment...and are rewarded for their patience when Mastodon’s “Crusher Destroyer” hits the speakers, signaling the entrance of The Raging Bull himself, Manson! A massive round of cheers rises from the crowd, who only grow louder when Manson bursts out from behind the curtains and throws the trademark horns high into the air! “RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall!” Funyon happily announces, “Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado, weighing in at two hundred and forty-five pounds...MAAAAAAAAAAAAANSOOONNNNNNNNNNNNN!!” Manson’s made his way down the ramp during Funyon’s introduction, his determined expression speaking of the focus he’s dedicating towards the task ahead of him. He rolls into the ring, pops to his feet, and retires to a corner. Manson begins to stretch, his eyes focused on the stage as he loosens up and prepares himself for the following contest. “And welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, everyone!” LDP cries, “We’ve had an amazing show so far, and-“ “Kill me.” King whimpers. “I can’t deal with these godforsaken family-friendly rules anymore. I can’t womanize, or curse...for Christ’s sake, Pete, I used the word darn twelve times tonight!” “Well, King, it has been hard on all of us.” LDP concedes, “But I’m sure-“ “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PETE!” King shouts, grabbing LDP and shaking the hell out of him. “If you have a shred of decency in you, man, you’ll put me down right now! Here! Take the pointy end of this nail clipper and-“ King’s microphone is hastily cut, right before he can implore LDP to murder him with the grooming tool. “Well. Ahem.” Pete clears his throat before continuing. “This is going to be an interesting contest, if only because of how similar Manson and Danny Williams are in fighting styles. And as we all know, Danny and Magnifico haven’t exactly been friendly with each other these past couple weeks, and will face each other in the near future. This match might very well show how the future contest between Williams and ELM will go.” Back in the ring, Manson is rocking back and forth slightly, anxious to get the match started. “HEY HEY!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Red, white, and green pyro explodes upwards from the stage and Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers, but the song’s immediately drowned out by the spirited booing of about eighteen thousand angry wrestling fans. Their displeasure only grows when El Luchadore Magnifico emerges from the pyro-induced smoke, his Mexican Flag flapping gracefully behind him and his head bobbing to the pounding bass of his entrance music. “And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds...” Funyon informs, “EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOO!!” ELM strides down the entrance ramp, dutifully ignoring the screaming, cursing fans that surround him on both sides. He reaches the ring and slides beneath it’s bottom rope, doing so under the watchful eye of Manson. Magnifico pops to his feet and shoots a cold glare at his opponent, before thrusting his flag proudly into the air and drawing a fresh wave of boos in the process. Magnifico grins to himself and turns back towards Manson...and is immediately popped in the chin with a quick right from the Raging Bull! Magnifico drops the flag and returns the blow, but is quickly overpowered as the exchange rapidly escalates into a one-sided fistfight. The ref hastily signals for the bell, which struggles to be heard of the delighted cheers of the capacity crowd. DING DING DING “Manson catches Magnifico off guard and immediately takes control of the match, as he pummels the luchadore with a procession of pulverising punches!” LDP excitedly shouts. “That’ll probably be a fine, but I doubt Manson cares.” A barely audible King can be heard responding in the background. “Uh, I don’t think King is suicidal anymore. Go ahead and turn his microphone back on.” Pete instructs. “-the most godawful announcing I’ve heard in my life! You sir, are an incompetent sonofa-“ And just like that, King’s gone again. After landing countless blows to Magnifico’s face and chin, Manson grabs the luchadore by the arm and whips him across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of said ropes and rushes back towards The Raging Bull, who lashes out at the luchadore with a Knife-Edge Chop! Magnifico just manages to duck beneath Manson’s extended arm and continues to run, springing off of the ropes behind him. Manson spins around to face the luchadore, doing so just in time to see ELM leap into the air and extend his arms and legs for a Flying Cross-Body! Magnifico makes perfect contact with the press, his body slamming right into Manson’s...right before the Raging Bull grabs him, spins around, and falls to the mat, slamming ELM’s back into the canvas with a quick Powerslam! Magnifico arches his spine and gasps out in pain, but Manson immediately shoved back down to the mat and covers him, much to the delight of the live audience. The ref falls to his knees and begins the count as Manson hooks the luchadore’s leg... ONE! TWO! No! Magnifico kicks out right after two. He’s still shocked by the surprising force of the Powerslam, though, and offers little resistance as Manson grabs him by the hair and stands up, pulling the luchadore to his feet in the process. “Very well-executed Cross-Body from Magnifico, but Manson managed to effortlessly reverse it into a Powerslam!” Pete reports. “That’s simply unfair. Magnifico lands a move perfectly and Manson’s too unsporting to fall down. Jerk.” King grumbles. “Uh, how’d you get your mike back on?” Pete asks. “Hotwired it.” King nonchalantly responds. Manson shoves ELM into a nearby corner the second he’s on his feet, causing Magnifico to fall hard against its turnbuckles. ELM tries to pull himself out of the corner, but before he gets the chance to do so, Manson suddenly lashes out with his arm, slicing it into the luchadore’s chest with a Knife-Edge Chop! *SMACK* “WHOOOOOO!!” Magnifico grasps his now-glowing red chest and doubles over, his mouth agape in pain once more. Manson grins to himself and leisurely pushes ELM back into the corner, greatly enjoying the luchadore reaction to the Chop. Perhaps wanting to see if he can raise blisters on Magnifico’s chest, Manson draws his arm back once more and... CHOP! *SMACK* “WHOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Magnifico shoves Manson out of the way and stumbles across the ring, just happy to be out of the corner and away from his opponent. His jubilation is short lived, however, as Manson grabs the luchadore by the back of the head and gruffly throws him back into the corner. “Manson’s trademark aggressiveness is serving him very well in the early stages of this match.” Pete reports. “The extent of ELM’s offense thus far has been a few weak punches and a reversed Cross-Body, thanks to Manson’s relentless attack.” “Makes me sick.” King spits. “Manson brazenly cheats and attacks ELM before the match, then continues to just be plain unfair and not allow Magnifico to get a strike in edgewise. It’s just...just...unsporting, is all!” Before ELM can do anything, Manson cracks him in the face with a stiff Elbow Strike, quickly ridding the luchadore of his will to resist. A mighty cheer rises from the crowd in response to the strike, causing Manson to smile graciously while he pulls Magnifico out of the corner and whips him across the ring. Manson runs after him a second later, only a couple steps behind the luchadore as he crashes back-first into the far corner’s turnbuckles. Almost immediately after impact, a running Manson closes in on the luchadore and throws his knee forward, slamming it into Magnifico’s gut with untold force! The pleased fans cheer once more as ELM flounders out of the corner, doubled over with a hand on his throbbing gut. With Magnifico in this position, Manson is able to easily pull the luchadore into a Front Headlock. He reaches for Magnifico’s leg, but before he has the chance to grab and hook it, ELM suddenly breaks into a run and begins pushing Manson across the ring! Caught by surprise, Manson has no chance to stop the charge, and is rammed back-first and at full speed into the corner across the ring! Manson arches his back in pain, but is promptly straightened out when ELM stands out and quickly lashes out with his arm, driving it into Manson’s chest with a Knife-Edge Chop! CHOP! *SMACK* “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!” The fans whoo despite themselves as the stinging Chop pierces Manson’s barrel chest. Scowling, Magnifico pulls his arm back once more and... CHOP! *SMACK* “WHOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Magnifico getting some sweet retribution and returning a few of the Chops he got earlier in the match.” King gleefully reports. “ELM’s Chops aren’t nearly as strong as Manson, but damned if they don’t sting.” LDP adds. “Not to mention that Manson’s initial assault seems to have really angered the luchadore; he looks to be putting all his strength into each of these strikes.” Staring daggers into his pained opponent, Magnifico draws his arm back again, drives it forward, and... ...has Manson catch it right in front of his chest. Startled, ELM struggles to break his arm free as Manson shakes his head slowly, almost seeming more disappointed than anything. Before he can free his trapped limb, the Raging Bull suddenly pulls the luchadore towards him and lashes out with his arm, slamming it into Magnifico’s chest with a Short-Arm Lariat! An impressed pop rises from the crowd as ELM is quickly knocked to the mat by the awesome force of the Lariat. Manson falls to his knees and quickly covers the luchadore, drawing the ref down to the mat to make the count... ONE! TWO! TH-No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, quickly silencing the excited crowd. “I’m not sure if he was just playing possum,” Pete speculates, “But Manson seemed completely unaffected by the first two Chops and reversed the third one into an unbelievably stiff Short-Arm Lariat!” “More trickery.” King growls. “If Manson would stop with all the smoke and mirrors, maybe we could get something resembling a fair contest.” Undeterred, Manson rolls off of the luchadore, grabs him by the arm, and stands up, pulling Magnifico to his feet in the process. He then uses his grip to whip ELM across the ring and towards the far ropes, which Magnifico bounces off of before charging back towards his opponent. As ELM approaches, Manson steps forward and wraps his arm around the luchadore’s waist, setting him up for a Belly-to-Belly Suplex in the center of the ring! He hesitates for a half-second too long, however, as Magnifico is able to hook his leg around Manson’s and prevent the Raging Bull from lifting him into the air! With Manson trapped on the mat, Magnifico begins to bash away at Manson’s skull with his elbow! Manson tries to hold onto the luchadore, determined to eventually land the Suplex, but the blows get to be too much and he’s forced to release the Waistlock. Angry and dizzy, Manson stumbles away from the luchadore and into the ropes, a hand on his aching head. After a second’s rest, he shakes off the elbow strikes and turns back to Magnifico...just in time to see the luchadore sidestep towards him and throw his foot into the air for a Superkick! ELM makes perfect contact with the kick, slamming his foot into Manson’s chin and knocking him up and over the top rope! The Stampede tumbles to the outside and lands hard on the floor as the disappointed fans boo this most recent turn of events. “There we go!” King happily cries. “Magnifico finally cuts through Manson’s chicanery and lands a devastating Superkick that knocks Manson to the outside.” “Manson made a mistake in not immediately landing that Belly-to-Belly.” Pete reports. “That slight hesistation was just enough time for ELM to prevent the Suplex from being landed and eventually reverse it into a Superkick.” Magnifico takes a moment to catch his breath before hitting the mat and rolling to the outside, where Manson is struggling to his feet. ELM grabs him by the hair and painfully helps him the rest of the way, right before using his grip to lead Manson over to the steel guardrail. Magnifico suddenly drives Manson’s skull forward, looking to bash it into said guardrail! However, Manson manages to catch the rail with both hands right before impact, preventing ELM from landing the attack! The Raging Bull then throws a quick elbow backwards, slamming it into Magnifico’s gut and sending him stumbling away from Manson. Coughing for breath, ELM takes a few steps before turning back towards Manson...only to eat another elbow strike, which this time nails him right in the face! Deciding he’s had enough of that, ELM turns away from Manson once more and bumbles around the ring, Manson following him leisurely as he does so. After turning a corner, Magnifico rolls into the ring and pops to his feet, apparently still dizzy from the last elbow strike. Manson follows suit and grabs ELM by the shoulder to turn him around. However, the second he does so, Magnifico seems to snap to attention, as he spins, throws his knee forward, and slams it into Manson’s gut! Surprised, Manson doubles over and clenches his gut in pain, allowing ELM to easily pull the Raging Bull into a Front Headlock. With some effort, Magnifico hoists Manson into the air, holds him there for a second...and the falls onto his back, pulling Manson straight down as he does so and slamming his skull into the canvas with a Brainbuster! A disappointed OHHHH! rises from the crowd as Manson flops to the mat, stunned by the force of the surprise Suplex. Not wasting a second, Magnifico immediately floats onto Manson and hooks his leg, drawing the ref down to the mat to make the count as the fans boo dejectedly. ONE! TWO! TH-No! Manson kicks out at two and a half, drawing a round of pleased cheers from the capacity crowd. “Hmph. You talk about Manson and trickery.” Pete admonishes King. “ELM was clearly acting more dazed than he was to sucker Manson into that Brainbuster just now.” “Yeah, but who cares?” King gleefully counters. “If you haven’t noticed, the wrestlers I don’t like aren’t allowed to be deceptive, whereas the wrestlers I do are.” “Don’t worry, I’ve noticed.” Pete confirms, rolling his eyes. ELM rolls off of Manson and pops to his feet, where he begins stomping away at random parts of the Raging Bull’s body. Seemingly undeterred by the relentlesss attack, Manson begins pushing himself to his feet and eventually stands. However, the second he stands, Magnifico grabs him by the arm and attempts to whip him across the ring. Manson easily reverses the attempt, though, sending ELM rushing across the ring and towards the far ropes. Magnifico turns to bounce back-first off of the ropes, and when he does, he catches sight of Manson barreling towards him, his elbow jutted out for a Rolling Elbow! Panicking, ELM bends over, grabs the running Manson by the leg, and then stands up, hoisting the Stampede into the air and over the top rope with a Back Drop! However, as Manson flies over the top rope, he grabs it and manages to pull himself onto the apron, much to the delight of the live audience! Confused, ELM looks over the cheering crowd for a moment, before slowly turning around, looking apprehensive to say the least. “Don’t listen to them, Mags!” King implores. “Just keep looking the other direction and Manson won’t do anything!” Turns out King’s advice might have been worth following, as Manson rocks the luchadore in the face with a stiff elbow the second he turns around! Dazed, ELM stumbles away from Manson as he grabs the top rope and leans back on the apron. Magnifico slowly turns back towards Manson, just in time to see the Raging Bull pull himself over the top rope and jump into the air, leading with his shoulder and soaring towards the luchadore with a Flying Shoulderblock! But before Manson can make contact, Magnifico suddenly leaps into the air and kicks his feet out, slamming them into the Stampede’s face with a Flipping Dropkick! A begrudgingly impressed crowd releases an impressive OHHHHH! as Manson crashes to the mat, having been shot out of the sky by the luchadore. Immediately after falling to the canvas, Magnifico scrambles over to Manson and makes the cover, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting. ONE! TWO! THR-Noo! Manson gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing a few encouraging cheers from the worried audience. “Beautifully timed Flipping Dropkick from Magnifico!” Pete cries. “He executed that at the exact right moment to counter the Flying Shoulderblock!” “Serves Manson right.” King adds. “A brawler trying to use a flying move. He should be ashamed!” Magnifico scowls as he rolls off of Manson, annoyed at not getting the three count. He grabs the Raging Bull by the hair and slowly pulls him to his feet, receiving little help from his dazed opponent. Once Manson is standing, ELM immediately pulls him into a Front Headlock and hoists him into the air. However, the second his feet leave the mat, Manson begins to kick and struggle wildly, not allowing Magnifico to do whatever it is he planned on doing! Before Magnifico can try to lift him into the air again, Manson begins to slam his fist into ELM’s gut, repeatedly punishing it in an attempt to loosen his grip! Tired of having his stomach bashed-in, Magnifico releases Manson, only for the Raging Bull to grab the luchadore around the waist! His arm still tucked under Magnifico’s arm, Manson suddenly lifts ELM into the air and falls backwards, driving him into the mat with a Northern Lights Suplex! Manson holds the bridge, drawing the ref down to the mat to make the count as the pleased fans release a mighty cheer. ONE! TWO! TH-Noo! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, breaking the bridge and causing Manson to fall unceremoniously to the mat. “Magnifico seemed to get just a little cocky there, attempting a Suplex without weakening Manson any.” Pete notes. “Psh, that’s nonsense.” King dismissively replies. “Manson got blasted in the face with a Magnifico Flipping Dropkick not a minute earlier. The man’s a freak of nature for even being conscious right now.” Manson rolls off of Magnifico, taking a second to shake off the lasting effects of the Dropkick to the face before grabbing his opponent by the hair and standing up, painfully pulling the luchadore to his feet in the process. Manson gruflly leads ELM over to the nearby corner and drives his head forward, slamming it into the top turnbuckle. Manson repeats this process several times, driving the luchadore’s head into the turnbuckle over and over, causing the fans to cheer louder and louder the more he pounds Magnifico’s head in! Finally, Manson mercifully allows ELM to fall face-first into the corner, where he lies against its turnbuckles, slack-jawed and completely disoriented. Manson allows Magnifico to rest for about half a second before grabbing the luchadore by the waist and arm and lifting him into the air, right before sitting him on the top turnbuckle. ELM stares absently to the outside as Manson climbs up after him, many fans already cheering in anticipation of whatever the Raging Bull has planned. When Manson reaches the top rope, he sticks his head beneath ELM’s arm and grabs him around the waist, putting him in position for a Super Backdrop Suplex! However, when Manson tries to lift the luchadore into the air, he finds it particularly hard to do so. Looking down, he sees ELM’s leg grapevined around his own, preventing him from lifting the luchadore! Before he can do anything about it, Magnifico suddenly delivers a particularly stiff elbow to the top of Manson’s skull, drawing a sympathetic OHHHH! from the capacity crowd. “Ouch! Manson tried to put Magnifico away with a Super Backdrop Suplex, but ELM hooked his leg around Manson’s and drove his elbow straight into his skull!” Pete reports. “Put him away nothing.” King scoffs. “Even if Manson had landed the Suplex, Magnifico would have shaken it off and been on his feet before that lumbering oaf. Really, Pete, think a little before you speak.” The strike causes Manson to withdraw his head and nearly lose his balance on the top turnbuckle. The Raging Bull finally does lose his balance when Magnifico fires backwards with another elbow, popping him right in the chin and knocking him off of the top turnbuckle! Manson falls and lands flat on his back, doing so with such force as to shake the entire ring. The second Manson hits the mat, ELM leaps backwards off of the top turnbuckle, flipping backwards as he does so and crashing towards the Raging Bull with a Moonsault! Thousands of flashbulbs illuminate the luchadore’s descent and his landing, in which Manson draws his knees up to his chest, slamming them into Magnifico’s gut as he falls! ELM bounces off of Manson’s knees and drops to the mat, clutching his gut and choking for breath as the fans release a mighty cheer. His chest heaving, The Raging Bull rests a moment before rolling towards the luchadore and draping his body over Magnifico’s, much to the delight of the live audience! Manson lies motionless over the luchadore as the ref slides into position and begins counting, his counts echoed by the capacity crowd. ONNNNNNNE!! TWOOOOOOOOOO!! THRRRRRRRRR-Nooo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up just before the three count, drawing a disappointed OHHHH! from the live audience. “No! Manson drew his knees up just in time to counter the Moonsault, but it wasn’t enough to keep Magnifico down!” Pete shouts. “Dammit, Mags, whattya doin’?” King moans. “You’ve learned as I’ve learned that aerial moves just aren’t worth it. Stick with the elbow strikes and dropping people on their head.” Manson rolls off of Magnifico begins pushing himself to his feet, still feeling the effects of his fall from the top rope. He stands and stares down at Magnifico for a second, a look of disgust clearly painted across his face. After a moment, he walks across the ring and stops on the opposite side, putting as much space as possible between him and Magnifico. As the luchadore begins pushing himself to his feet, a hand on his gut, Manson hunches over and begins to slap his extended arm, apparently signaling that he’s ready to end this match with the Western Lariat! The fans come to this conclusion as well, cheering louder and louder as Magnifico unknowingly stands, facing away from the Raging Bull. He slowly turns, and as he does so, Manson suddenly takes off, barreling towards the luchadore at top speed! Magnifico catches sight of Manson just in time to see the Stampede lash out with his loaded limb for the Western Lariat! However, Manson left Magnifico just enough time to dodge the Lariat, which the luchadore does by sidesteping the charging Raging Bull! As he sidesteps, Magnifico wraps his feet around Manson’s ankles, tripping him up with a Drop Toe Hold! Manson falls and ELM shoots his hands out and wraps them around his face, and when Manson hits the ground, Magnifico begins using his hands to pull back on his neck! A wave of disappointed boos pour in from the audience as Manson cries out in pain, his neck being torn apart by the Sangria Stretch! “Sangria Stretch!” Pete cries. “Magnifico managed to reverse the Western Lariat into the Sangria Stretch, and Manson is in serious trouble here!” “Thank God.” King sighs. “I thought for a second ELM might be selling for that ridiculous finisher.” “King, the Western Lariat is one of the most quick and powerful finishers in the fed. Just because it’s a Lariat doesn’t make it ridiculous.” Pete counters. “Actually, it does.” King replies matter-of-factly. The ref slides to his knees and gets in Manson’s face, asking him if he wants to submit. He receives a shouted “NO!” in reply, right before Manson digs his hands into the mat and begins clawing his way towards the ropes! The Raging Bull drags Magnifico across the mat, determined to reach the ropes before the pain flowing through his body gets to the breaking point! Not wanting to release the submission and pull Manson away from the ropes, Magnifico pulls back as hard as he can on the neck, desperate to grind the submission out of Manson before he can break free! Fourteen thousands Iowans cheer in unision as Manson approaches the ropes, slowly reaches out with a shaking arm...and grabs the bottom rope! An impressive pop rises from the crowd as the ref shouts at Magnifico to break the hold. The luchadore ignores him at first, but finally complies when the ref begins to count him out. “No! Manson manages to reach the ropes before Magnifico can make him submit!” Pete reports. “Manson’s trademark toughness serves him well as he escapes the Sangria Stretch.” ELM climbs back to his feet and begins to stomp away wildly at Manson, infuriated at the Raging Bull for escaping the Stretch. Through the stomps, Manson begins pushing himself to his feet, but is cut off when Magnifico grabs him by the arm and pulls him the rest of the way to his feet. The second his opponent is standing, ELM uses his grip to wrap Manson’s arm into a Chicken Wing, before wrapping his other arm around Manson’s head for Montezuma’s Revenge! However, before Magnifico can land the Chickenwing Jawbreaker, Manson suddenly drives his head forward, slamming his skull into ELM’s with a vicious Headbutt! Stunned, ELM’s hold weakens, allowing Manson to break his arm free of Magnifico’s hold! In one quick movement, Manson turns away from the luchadore and trap him into a ¾ Headlock, drawing a booming pop from the crowd for the potential Consequences! However, they’re quickly silenced as Magnifico pushes Manson hard from behind, breaking the ¾ Headlock and sending The Raging Bull rushing across the ring! Manson bounces off of the ropes and charges back towards the luchadore, who steps forward, grabs Manson, and hoists him into the air as if for a Scoop Slam! However, Manson manages to twist out of Magnifico’s grip in mid-air, landing on his feet and facing the same direction as the luchadore! The second he’s on his feet, Manson reaches back once more and locks Magnifico into the ¾ Headlock once again! However, the now-confused fans are disappointed once more, as ELM suddenly drives his knee into Manson’s lower back, forcing him to release the hold and arch his spine in pain! He’s now in the perfect position for Magnifico to hook both of his arms as if for a Backslide, and ELM does just that! With boos pouring in from every corner of the arena, Magnifico charges towards the nearby corner with Manson in tow, looking to finish this contest with a Baja California Crusher! “Manson goes for the Consequences twice, but Magnifico manages to reverse it both times!” Pete cries. “And he’s now seconds away from landing the Baja California Crusher!” “Whooo!” King happily shouts. “It took some doing, but Mags is finally gonna put this brawling brute down for the count! Serves him right after going for the same finisher twice, uncreative jerk.” ELM reaches the corner and runs up it, pushing himself backwards off of the top turnbuckle and flipping over Manson! Magnifico falls to his knees and drives Manson down to the mat at the same time, slamming his face into the canvas with the Baja California Crusher! A lifeless Manson flops onto his back as thousands of Iowans boo their little hearts out. Magnifico remains on his knees for a second, breathing deeply, before draping his body over Manson’s and making the cover. As ELM hooks the leg, the ref slides into position and begins counting, shouted down by the overwhelming boos that reverberate throughout the Veteran’s Memorial Auditorium. ONE! TWO! THRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!! DING DING DING “Your winner, by pinfall...” Funyon shouts, struggling to be heard over the heartbroken audience. “EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Magnifico rolls off of Manson and rises to one knee, grinning to himself as he stares down at the felled Raging Bull. ELM grabs Manson’s hand and shakes it heartily, drawing a brand new wave of contempt from the capacity crowd. “A remarkable show of sportsmanship from Magnifico!” King cries. “He’s set a great example by following the brilliant rules set by one Joseph Peters!” “King, at the beginning of the show you were suicidal over said rules.” Pete snaps. “You’re clearly mistaken.” King counters. “You wanted me to kill you with a nail clipper!” Pete shouts, disbelieving. “Not ringing a bell.” King responds, in a “La-La-La, I’m not listening” tone of voice. Pete sighs. “Anyway, a solid victory for Magnifico and a good sign heading into his contest with Danny Williams. Stay tuned, because after this, we’ll be right back with Devon Walters vs. Jay Hawke!” The last shot shown before the commercial break is a close-up of Manson, stirring and scowling to himself as he realizes what just happened...

Ben Hardy is backstage microphone in hand looking like he’s about to scoop the nation, for a moment he seems to forget that he’s just a backstage guy at a wrestling event. Then he remembers and a slight look of depression crosses his face “I’m here tonight trying to get a word with the latest signee to SWF – by the way CNN…” Ben does the “Call me” motion before he turns to open a locker room door. The sign on the door says “Big Bruce Blank’s Bone Breaking Business” – a makeshift sigh held up by strips of duct tape. Inside we see a pair of boots and a puff of smoke rising over a magazine. “Excuse me Mr. Blank?” The man ignores him, holding up the latest copy of “Trailer & Garden” in front of his face. You all know the one I’m talking about, it’s the one with a picture of an overgrown garden with a rusty car sitting on blocks and the caption “Garden of the year?” on the front. “I’m Ben Hardy from SWF” The man puts the magazine down, to reveal a mountain of a man, bulging chest and arms, a bull neck and a face that needed to be shaved 3 days ago. Bruce adjusted his dirty beat up cowboy hat and then took the cigarette from the corner of his mouth. “You’ll need to pay the interview fee” Ben looked a bit confused. So Bruce Blank sighs, then takes his feet off the table and motions for Ben to sit down. “I’m a busy man, I can’t have every Tom, Dick & Ben coming here to talk to me. So you gotta pay the 20 dollar fee before you can interview me.” Ben looked at the man, smelled the man and tried to not gag. Then he saw the poster behind Bruce Black. It was an anatomy chart showing muscles and bones in the human body – but in addition to that it had lines drawn to various parts, knee, leg, elbow, ribs and on and on and price tags by each line. Ben gulped, then pulled out 20 dollars and gave it to Bruce. Blank put the money away and then went back to reading the magazine “Well?” Ben ventured. “Well what??” Bruce looked totally disinterested in anything Hardy had to say “The interview” “I told you” Bruce said putting the cigarette out on the table looking a little annoyed “It’s a 20 dollar fee” “But… But I already paid you” Ben said totally confused. “Oh don’t be stupid” “I’m not, I’m telling you I paid you 20 dollars” “No you didn’t” Bruce said sizing the much smaller Hardy up “If I didn’t pay why are you talking to me” Ben smiled, he’d won the battle! Bruce sat there for a moment thinking about it then he said “Maybe I’m doing this off the record, then it’s not an interview” Hardy gave in, he feared for his life, he didn’t like the smell in here and he was really curious too. “Fine, 20 dollars – I’ll pay you after the interview.” “Ask away” Bruce leaned back and slid the cowboy had back relaxing. “What is this Bone Breaking Business you’ve got set up here?” Hardy kept looking at the chart with a nervous tick. “It’s simple enough, in fact we can use the chart behind me to illustrate it. It’s my price list, each tag is how much I charge to break that body part” Ben Hardy grew a little quiet, the unsavoury Bruce laughed a little as he pointed to various places, 200 dollars to break a finger, unless it was the middle finger, then it was 500 and so on. “You’d break a nose for 10 bucks?” Bruce shrugged his massive shoulders “Why not? Noses, arms, backs – you pay the price and I’ll do it” he said without revealing a hint of emotion. “You don’t care who you hurt?” Ben asked with horror “Nah nor do I really care who pays me, as long as they don’t try to get out of paying the bill.” Hardy’s mind was reeling, the coldness, the callousness of it all “So….” Bruce cut him off, annoyed by the timid pants wetting interviewer “Look it’s very easy, I’ll do whatever, to whomever for the right price – you need something broken, I’m your man – you need someone to “not show up” for a show, again I’m your man – protection? Sure” “Is there anything you won’t do for money?” “I ain’t a prostitute if that’s what you’re asking” Bruce said and winked at Ben “If I take your contract I won’t stop until it’s fulfilled” Ben didn’t know what to say, fortunately for him he didn’t have to as “Sweet Home Alabama” beings to play from Bruce’s phone. He quickly answers it, ignoring Ben “6B Enterprises, it’s Bruce” he quickly said. His expression turned more pained as he heard who was on the other end “Hi Trixie” he said with no real emotion. He listened for a few moments while rolling his eyes then he said “I’ve already sent you your alimony check, even if it’s not technically due until the first” on the other end a woman’s shrill voice is heard. “No I post-dated it so you can’t cash it until then, so I guess you’ll have to wait and buy that leather thong some other time” Bruce held the phone away from his ear as his ex (the 3rd one for those keeping score) curses him out. Then after she calms down he puts the phone up by his ear again. “How is Freebird” he said with warmth in his voice. “WHAT?” Bruce stood up and slammed a hand in the table making Ben jump 2 feet in the air “His name is Freebird!! You did not rename mah dang coon-dog Precious” The sound of laughter is heard over the phone seconds before Bruce throws the phone against the wall breaking it. Then he turns and looks at Ben with a very nasty expression on his face “I’m gonna have to f@#k someone up!!” Before Ben could become the target he ran off with the camera guy right behind him shrieking “Back to ringside!!”

“We’ve got another contest coming up in just a few moments, and it’s one that normally wouldn’t be showcased on a family friendly edition of SWF television!” “So then, why is it?” “Change of pace? How do I know. Ask the office!” “Like I’m going to talk to those guys if I don’t have to. Cheapskates.” “Right. Anyhow, both Todd Cortez and Marcus Ward are two men who have made great strides in the SWF, namely in the Hardcore Division. We here at the SWF are proud to have these two athletes as a part of our roster, however tonight no hardcore stipulations will be in effect, despite the fact that they are a strong focal point of many matches featuring these men. We know Cortez can adapt to any scenario he’s met with, and it’ll be interesting to see how Ward combats the Urban Legend without the use of his “specialty”.” “Between The Wheels” begins playing, and as the lights dim as the opening beat of the song plays on and on on a continuous loop. Moments after it begins, the hardcore powerhouse steps through the curtain and onto the entrance ramp, looking all too pleased with himself despite the fact that he’s being booed heavily by the Iowa crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall! Approaching the ring at this time, hailing from Bavaria, he weighs in tonight at two hundred, forty nine pounds…this is MARRRRRRRRCUSSSSSSSS WAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRDDDD!” Upon hearing his name called out by Funyon, Ward mutters “that’s me!” excitedly, and outstretches his arms, posing for the fans despite their cold feelings towards him. Ward then hops up on the apron and gets in the ring, climbing onto the turnbuckles and pointing to himself, showing his egotistical nature to the fans. Luckily the censors have there fingers on the button tonight, as several ringside fans issue choice words to Ward, nearly causing him to step out to ringside before it’s prevented by SWF official Nick Soapdish. Moments later, “Oh No” (the edited version used for shows of this nature) explodes over the sound system, and the crowd is brought to their feet by the entrance of a longtime fan favorite, one currently engaged in a battle of emotion and pride with a one-time friend. “His opponent, hailing from Hollywood Boulevard, he is…whoa!” Funyon, who has seen his fair share of overzealous wrestlers in his tenure, is scared out of the ring by a charging Cortez, who chooses to disregard his normal pace to the ring tonight, instead choosing to charge it and get right down to business. “Mistake number one, Peter. He’s showing too much emotion, and emotion leads to mistakes. Take your parents, for example. Had they not been caught in the heat of the moment, they…” “KING!” “Truth hurt?” “We have kids watching!” “So what the heck do they have health class for? I’m not saying anything they don’t already know!” “We can’t take that chance. And you’re too…colorful, in your descriptions.” “…was that a compliment or what?” “Take it as you will.” Cortez is eager to start the match, as the “itch” of being unable to do battle with Landon Maddix is eating away at him. However, referee Nick Soapdish holds Todd back, asking him to calm down and relax, which Cortez obliges to out of respect. Soapdish rings the bell, but as Cortez and Ward approach each other, he purposely gets in the way, reminding the two to shake hands before the contest starts. Cortez bites his lip, then offers a hand to his foe, who looks down. Ward then takes Cortez's hand and shakes it, but doesn't let go, and starts squeezing it, smiling as Cortez grimaces uncomfortably. As Ward nods his head in happniness, Cortez rolls his eyes, showing he was playing along, and quickly wrenches the arm of his foe! "Now, you had to see that one coming. When do you get clean handshakes in wrestling anymore?" "It's just not possible anymore. Why, I remember when I was starting out, this one girl used to hang around after the show's...I mean EVERY show, and she gave some of the best hand..." "SHAKES, right King?" "Sha...oh, shakes, yes! Handshakes! Man, that girl had a grip on her that..." "HEY, WHATTAMOVE BY CORTEZ!" "It's an armbar, Pete? What the he..." "Helen Keller! You'd be as blind as Helen Keller if you didn't see that handshake ruse coming!" "Pete, did someone slip you a mickey? I mean, what's the deal?" "Family friendly." "Famawha?" "Family Friendly, remember?" "Family...OH! OH! Yes, yes I remember!" Cortez twists the arm of Ward, keeping his powerful foe at bay before quickly releasing his wrist and then dropping down, swinging his legs out to take Ward to the canvas with a sweep kick! Cortez darts to the ropes and comes off, hopping over Ward, who rolls onto his stomach. Cortez continues over to the far side and rebounds again, leapfrogs over Ward, then strikes with a chop before grabbing his wrist and again wrenching his arm! Ward snarls and tries to swing his free hand around to clock Cortez, but Todd ducks the blatant closed fist and delivers a quick knee to the bread basket, then sets Ward up for a Russian legsweep, but Marcus elbows Cortez and forces a break. Todd is retrieved by his foe and whipped hard into the corner, but when Ward charges, Cortez charges out of the corner and leaps up, driving both feet into Marcus' chin with a high dropkick! Ward quickly rolls away and pushes up to his feet, but the minute he does the first vision he sees is Cortez charging at him...so he drops down and elevates Cortez over the ropes...but Todd hangs on and skins the cat back in! "There he goes, showing off that agility!" Cortez lands back in the ring, but is immediately blasted across the back of the neck with a forearm shot by Ward, who then pulls him away from the ropes and applies a rear waistlock. Cortez tries to break the grip Ward has on him, then fires back an elbow to drive him away. Ward reels, and Cortez bolts to the ropes, but gets caught on the rebound and pressed up over Ward's head and slammed to the canvas! "There Ward goes, showing off that power! These two couldn't be any more different, but it should make for a great matchup!" Cortez is stunned, fighting the surge of pain that runs up his back. As he gets to his feet Ward charges, tackling Todd and driving him backwards, smashing him against the corner! Todd reels as his back is rammed against the turnbuckles, dazing him enough to make him unable to counter the belly to belly suplex that follows! Ward gets to his feet and then drops an elbow on Todd before covering him for the first pinfall of the contest! ONE! T-KICKOUT! "Ward's got to realize that while he might have the power advantage, it's going to take more than a few slams and suplexes to do Cortez in." Ward gets up, pulling Cortez up with him, then scoops the Urban Legend up and slams him back down to the canvas. He backs into the ropes and comes off, looking to drop another elbow, but this time Cortez rolls out of the way and escapes impact! Ward shrugs it off and gets up off the canvas, while Cortez comes up to his feet. Todd fires off a high roundhouse kick, but Ward ducks, dodging the foot by mere inches. He quickly hooks Todd in a half nelson and tries to lift him up and over, but Cortez manages to wriggle free, and he spins behind Ward and applies a full nelson of his own! Ward tries to fight, and is able to use his power to break Todd's grip, then reaches back and snapmares the Urban Legend over and follows that up with a vicious boot to the back of the head! "Now come on, that was done simply out of spite!" Cortez rolls away, and Ward moves after him, but Soapdish steps in his way and gets on his case for the kick. Ward blows off the scolding and moves towards Cortez, who is trying to pull himself to his feet. Ward traps him in the corner and grabs him by the head, then takes his right hand and brings it down across Todd's chest! "They could hear that one in the parking garage!" Ward then takes Cortez by the arm and sends him across the ring towards the other corner. Ward starts running after Cortez as soon as he's completed the Irish whip, but before Todd collides with the corner, he leaps up to the middle rope and moonsaults off, leaping over Ward! Cortez lands on his feet, while Ward stops himself just before he runs himself into the corner. He turns around, and Cortez springs into the air, crushing Ward with a diving corner splash! Ward is knocked silly, and Todd hops up on the middle rope and raises his fist, signalling to the crowd that he's about to pound away on Ward. Soapdish waves him off, telling Cortez that closed fists aren't going to take place in this match, and the crowd begins booing the official, despite this being a family friendly SWF event! "Poor Nick Soapdish. Being a referee must be one of the most unwanted jobs in the world. You do what you're supposed to do, and people still hate you." "Plus they all look like Foot Locker employees." Cortez turns away from Soapdish and holds his fist, wrapped in tape, up in the air, then simply slaps Ward across the face! Then he takes his left hand and does the same, and before you know it Cortez is slapping Ward silly! More annoyed that hurt, Ward shoves Cortez off the ropes, but Todd lands on his feet. Ward acts fast as he storms out of the corner and tries to take Todd's head off with a lariat, but Cortez ducks and fires off a sidekick to the back of Ward's head that drops him to one knee! Cortez then runs the ropes so he's charging Ward head-on, and he leaps into action, pulling his knee up to execute a Shining Wizard...but Ward pops up and grabs him out of mid-air and squashes him with a spinning powerslam! "A crushing blow by Marcus Ward has knocked the wind out of Todd Cortez!" Ward stays on top of Cortez and pulls his leg up, holding him down for the pin. ONE! TW-NO! "Another quick kickout by Cortez!" Once again, Ward simply pulls Todd up, clobbering him across his shoulder blades with a stiff forearm shot, then drilling him in the side of the face with a kneelift! Ward then tugs on Cortez's wifebeater and pulls him towards him, into a quick belly to back suplex! "There is no doubt in my mind Cortez has scouted Ward well, but you have to wonder if thoughts of Landon Maddix could prove to be detrimental to Todd's success tonight. Ward's been able to toss him around the ring quite a bit in this contest, and you'd have to think Cortez is preoccupied about just when and where Landon Maddix is going to show his face again." "You make a valid point, Pete, but you can't spend life worrying about what-if's. If Landon shows up here tonight, then that's when Cortez should have to deal with it. Right now, he's got to concern himself with not getting pinned by this powerhouse." With Cortez down, Ward moves towards him, but rather than another attempt at getting a three count, he locks Cortez in a body scissors, then applies a rear chinlock. Cortez tries to pull the hand of Ward away, but to no avail, as right now the Urban Legend is trapped! “Excellent move by Ward!” says King proudly. “He’s taken the quicker man off his feet and is wearing him down without exerting much energy.” Cortez squirms as Ward keeps his thick arm tucked under Todd’s chin and pulls back on the head of the streetfighter, while simultaneously squeezing his legs around Todd’s ribcage. Soapdish keeps an eye on the two, looking for a tap out, a blatant choke, or anything else that might need his immediate attention. Ward snarls and squeezes tighter, causing Cortez to scrunch his face and show discomfort. Doing all he can to try and get out of this position, Cortez rolls over so that he’s still trapped, but now on top of Ward. Soapdish dives to the canvas to see if the shoulders are down, but Ward simply rolls to the side to stop any hopes of victory that Cortez may have…however he’s now positioned Cortez closer to the ropes, and the Urban Legend stretches his arm out, struggling for several moments before grasping the bottom strand! Soapdish calls for the break, but Ward doesn’t want to give it up, and waits until the count of four to release the hold! “Thatta boy, milk that five count for all it’s worth!” Soapdish warns Ward not to cut it so close, but again, Ward pays no mind to the referee, choosing to keep focus on his opponent. He pulls Cortez to his feet, but Todd swings Ward’s arm away and blasts him with a European uppercut, then catches him with a chop, and a second one! The crowd starts rallying as Cortez rushes to the ropes and comes at Ward, who presses him up into the air…but Cortez shifts his body while airborne, turning the flapjack attempt into a dropkick that puts Ward down! Cortez continues on the offensive, pulling Ward up and sending him in, but the whip is countered by Ward, who catches Cortez and lifts him up horizontally, trying for a backbreaker…but Cortez flips himself over Ward’s shoulders and spins his foe around to face him so he can drill him with an STO! Cortez now covers Ward and hooks the leg, while the fans are rabid in their enthusiasm! ONE! TWO! NO! Soapdish’s hand only hits the canvas twice, as Ward rolls a shoulder before the count of three. Cortez brings him to his feet and quickly applies a side headlock, wrenching Ward’s head, but soon finds himself shoved to the ropes! Ward drops to his stomach so that Cortez can hop over him, which he does, but immediately follows up with a standing moonsault onto the back of Ward before he can pull himself up! “Now that’s thinking on your feet!” With Ward squashed by the moonsault, Cortez ducks out to the apron and immediately leaps off the apron and onto the top rope, springboarding in with a double stomp to the small of Marcus Ward’s back! Ward hollers out in pain and rolls over, sitting up so that he can paw at his back, and opens himself up for Cortez to come off the ropes and drill him with a basement dropkick! “Cortez has already connected with that jaw several times this contest, and the right shot could knock Ward out cold!” With Ward laid out by the dropkick, Cortez again moves out to the apron, leaping from the top rope back into the ring with a kneedrop to Ward’s forehead that shakes his fallen body. Cortez rolls through with the move, and springs off the canvas to the middle rope, springboarding backwards into a quebrada, crashing down atop Marcus Ward! “Double shot by Todd Cortez!” “Pete, you lush, I thought this was family friendly viewing? No alcohol references!” “I didn’t mean…” ”Yeah, sure you didn’t. Lush.” “…wait, what are you sipping out of that Thermos?” “This? Uh…just coffee.” “Coffee doesn’t make my eyes tear.” “The series finale of Growing Pains made your eyes tear, you wimpy little…” ONE! TWO! THR-NO! “Can we get back to the match, King? We nearly missed calling that pinfall!” “Hey, YOU started with ME. I’m on the defensive here!” Cortez comes up to his feet and moves towards Ward’s feet, grabbing his legs, but Ward is still coherent enough to try and fight back, so he kicks Cortez away. Todd staggers back, but it’s merely temporary, as he moves towards Ward and delivers a kick to his chest as he’s rising to a vertical base. The instep of Todd’s foot connecting with the pectoral region causes a loud smack to fill the arena, and fans cringe just hearing the echo of the blow. Cortez takes Ward and tries for a belly to back suplex, but Ward fires an elbow into Todd’s cheekbone, then quickly moves out of the hold and hiptosses Todd down to the canvas before falling down to one knee. Exhausted, Ward comes and snatches Cortez in a front facelock, but Todd quickly slides his head out and delivers a quick kick to the stomach, then tries for a snap suplex, but Ward counters by hooking Cortez by his leg and pulling him up onto his shoulders and falling backwards, crushing Cortez with a Samoan drop! The cocky Ward leans back on his fallen foe, nodding for Soapdish to come and count the fall! ONE! TW-WAIT! CORTEZ CRUCIFIXES WARD! ONE! TWO! NO! “Ward got too cocky, and you can’t do that with Todd Cortez!” Both men come up, and Ward strikes first with a chop to Todd’s chest. Cortez absorbs the blow and fires back with one of his own, but Ward grits his teeth and takes it LIKE A MAN~! Before firing back with another one! “It’s a seesaw battle! The old game of which man will flinch first!” “Wanna put money on it?” “On the table?” “No on the…” “On the table, King?” “Yeah, yeah, on the table. So you can, uh, give your pockets a rest.” “My pockets are fine, but thank you for asking!” “Pete, these happy little talks hurt me so much. I just wanted you to know that.” Cortez reels from the second chop, then comes back with a third chop to Ward, and another, and another! The flurry of hard shots staggers Ward, and he stumbles back into the corner. Cortez takes him by the head and pulls him out of it, then holds him in a facelock as Cortez moves to the corner, seating himself on the top rope while keeping Ward held at bay. Cortez then kicks off the middle rope and twists around, but Ward lifts Cortez higher into the air and drops him out to the apron, successfully blocking Todd’s Tornado DDT attempt! A shoulderblock through the ropes follows, but Todd’s grip on the top rope keeps him from falling to the ringside floor. Growing frustrated with the persistence of the former Martial Law member, Ward takes a wild swing at Cortez, which gets ducked, and only serves to infuriate Marcus more! A swing with the left hand is dodged as well, and a quick shoulderblock from Cortez follows, and it doubles Ward over. Cortez immediately slingshots himself back into the ring, landing with his legs trapping Ward’s head in a standing headscissors…and he then springs off his feet and over Ward’s back, pulling his opponent over with him before delivering the ultimate in head-dropping goodness! “The Riot Act Plus out of nowhere! Cortez has just drilled Marcus Ward with his famed maneuver!” The crowd leaps off their feet as Ward’s head bounces off the canvas, and he’s left prone for a cover from the Urban Legend. ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! “That’s an Excedrin headache if there ever was one!” “You’ve got to give it to Cortez, he’s taken a maneuver that many would find tough to hit, and he’s perfected it to where he can get you at any point in the match!” Cortez comes off of his unconscious foe and has his hand raised by Soapdish, as the Des Moines crowd rise to their feet in a show of respect and appreciation to their hero. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, the Urban Legend, TODDDDDDDDD CORRRRRRRRRTEZZZZZZ!” The edited edition of “Oh No” hits once again, as Cortez circles the ring, standing by the ropes and pounding on his heart, then pointing out to the sea of fans that have taken him in during the last year. Cortez then looks over his fallen foe, surveying the damage done by the Riot Act Plus…and then reaches down, taking Ward’s limp hand in his and shaking it in a show of sportsmanship! “See kids…never let head trauma get in the way of mutual respect and admiration!” Cortez steps out of the ring and heads up the ramp, but as he is headed to the back, his music cuts, and footage that looks like it’s been shot on a home video camera comes on the Smarktron. It’s unclear what the footage is at first, as the camera is crooked and the voice (or voices) are muffled, but all becomes clear when the Smarktron turns into an extreme closeup of Landon Maddix. Cortez stops dead in his path, eyeing the giant screen, while the Iowa fans boo the sight of Todd’s former partner. “Todd! Hey, Todd! Hey man, this is your old buddy Landon Maddix coming to you live from Huron, South Dakota, the home of the one, the only…me. That’s right, it’s a city famous for, well, me! I just wanted to give you a little update as to how my holiday is going, since I know you’re working hard as always. The days and nights have been good to me, and it’s good to see so many familiar faces. So many people come up to me every day and ask me, they say “Landon, when are you going to go back and kick the ass of that street urchin, that nobody that you took under your wing only to have him steal the heart of the woman who stole your own? When are you going to go and put Todd Cortez on the shelf next to his old buddy Mike Van Siclen? When are you going to show the world that Martial Law was a mistake that should be erased from the history books? The answer is simple. It’s the same one that I gave to you. I’m coming for you when I’m good and ready. See Todd, I know I can’t make you fear me. I know that the great streetfighter, the fearless Todd Cortez fears no man, but that’s OK. I can’t make you fear me, but I can sure make you think. I can be miles away from you, but I run through your mind minute by minute, day by day. I may never be able to match up to you as far as street fighting or even hardcore brawls go, but I can eat away at you. I can break you down mentally. You broke my heart, Todd. You and Megan made me an emotional mess, but see, now I’m going to break you. Mentally, I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to make you paranoid. I said I’d get you when I was ready, Todd, and that’s true…but how do you know when that’s going to be? Even I don’t know when that’s going to be…and that’s a beautiful thing. Until then, you can worry about me. Until then, I’m not going to worry about you. I won’t need to…you’ll be doing enough of it for the both of us. See you soon, old friend!” With those ominous words, the feed cuts, and a fuming Todd Cortez stands in the aisle, looking up at the Smarktron until we slowly fade to black, and segue into a commercial break.

Family-friendly Lockdown returns from commercial break, with Ben Hardy and Jay Hawke standing in front of a Lockdown backdrop. Hardy: "I am standing here with Jay Hawke, who is getting ready to take on Devon Walters in one of tonight's key feature matches. My question for you tonight, Jay, is this. What was going through your mind when Zyon pinned you in the ring last week on Storm?" Hawke: "Well, Ben, this Walters guy is one tough dude. He's big, he's..." ... Jay Hawke looks over at Ben Hardy, and he doesn't look happy. Hawke: "Wait a minute. Did you just ask me about Zartorn?" Hardy: "Zyon." Jay Hawke grabs the microphone from Ben Hardy, then pie faces him off the screen. Hawke: "Look, I'm getting tired of this. All I've heard for five days now is 'Hey, Zyon beat you. You said he couldn't beat you.' Yeah, Zyon pinned me. In a tag team match. With somebody helping him. When he gets into the ring with me one-on-one, he can't beat me. And I'll prove that in a few weeks at Genesis V when I defend..." ... Jay Hawke stops for a second, then his eyes get wide, almost as if a light bulb has come up over his head like in those old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Hawke: "In fact, why even wait until Genesis? There's no need to drag this out and give Zyon any false hope. Why don't we settle this Monday night on Smarkdown? Let me propose this to you, Zyon. You get your singles match with me this Monday night. Non-title, of course, because everybody knows you're not worthy of a title shot. If you can get your hand raised, you'll get your shot at Genesis like we agreed upon. If you don't win...you never get another shot at me. No title shot, no pay-per-view money match, nothing! What do you say, hot shot? Are you going to lay up and rest on your laurels? Or do you have the guts to go Tin Cup on me and take that big shot that might bring you a victory but will more than likely finish the Cinderella story for good? The choice is yours." Jay Hawke tosses the microphone down and walks away from the interview area. FADE IN The camera pans across several bookcases stuffed with dusty tomes and barely-bound manuscripts. It slowly angles downward to a large executive desk scattered with papers and several stacks of well-worn video casettes. The camera arcs back up to display a muted television displaying nothing but scanlines and bad-signal snow. Centering on the television, the camera stops its' movement and simply displays the snow for several moments. Suddenly an image appears on the screen...a man in an immaculate suit, though without a tie, and well-groomed appearence. Marcus Ward is on this television...and he seems very happy. Smiling the entire time Ward begins to speak, "I am Marcus Ward, one of the premiere SWF wrestlers of this day...and this is my Masterplan" Marcus continues, "I'm sure you're confused...allow me to explain. Each show before my match I will play a video showing highlights of my opponent...the same ones I carefully dissected in the days before our match. And each week I will present my final analysis of how I, The Mastermind, will implement my Master Plan to destroy them in the ring." Ward smirks a bit more than usual as he finishes off his statement...he then gets very straight faced as he finishes, "Now lets start the tape" The tv monitor shifts rapidly to several scenes involving Todd Cortez. Several flashes of him hitting Riot Act Pluses on various helpless foes...then it shifts into a montage of tag matches with Mike van Siclen and his former Martial Law teammate Landon Maddix. Finally the video slows down into a near frame-by-frame review of Cortez being sprayed in the eyes at Ground Zero, and the announcement of Landon Maddix as the victor. Ward's smile is back on his face as the tv monitor cuts from the highlight feed back to him. "My analysis of Todd "Mf'in" Cortez?" queries Marcus Ward. "Tonight..." "Legend becomes Myth." "Myth becomes Memory." Ward stares daggers into the camera and suddenly lifts his fingers up and snaps, the sound reverberating with his voice... "Forgotten in a moment." Ward's visage disappears from the screen and leaves only his new nickname emblazoned across the center in a murky yellow "The Mastermind" It remains for a brief moment...replaced by nothing but snow as the camera fades out.

Backstage... "What do you mean Family Friendly rules don't allow for a troop of six professionally trained women to dance me in?" The Crimson Skull yells. "It means exactly what I told you... we're family friendly here on Lockdown. You can't use them." A decidedly more calm Joseph Peters replies. "I'm still not following." "Ugh... Heff, can you help me out here? Explain to your boss what this all means." "The man is holding us down, Skully." Heff says. "Curse him. Some day, when this country is mine... you will bow before me as your king! Mwahahahaha... Mwahahahaha!!!!" Comet stops and looks around. "Where'd he go?" "I think he left somewhere along 'when this country is mine'. He must've lost interest." "Oh... well we have a serious problem Heff. I can't do this match without someone dancing me in. It just wouldn't be... super villainesque. And you know what that means..." Skull trails off. "Ugh..." Heff sighs. ***** "Welcome back to Lockdown!" Pete squeals. "As we've just seen, Joseph Peters laid down the law here tonight and has told The Crimson Skull to leave the Dance Squad in the back. What will he do to replace them? How will this effect his match tonight? Which came first, toothpaste or the toothbrush? All questions will be answered, except the last one, when The Crimson Skull takes on Ghost Machine next!" "The hype machines are ago, as we're less than a month away from Genesis! We're psyched out of our minds and possibly on crack cocaine!" "I don't think you can make drug references on Lockdown." Longdogger corrects his partner. "I was only kidding," King thinks it over, "wait, I don't have to answer to you!" Ba-dink-dink-dink-dink Ba-dink-dink-dink-dink "What's that?" King asks. "Either someone in the audience has an iron heart, or we're about to be joined by Ghost Machine!" "Sucks either way, I guess..." King mumbles. With what can best be described as weird robot music playing throughout the arena, Ghost Machine walks out of the back followed shortly by his manager and cohort in... crime... JL Crunk! Crunk tugs up his pants as he walks down the ramp (you know how all the kids are wearing them these days...) while Machine spits on fans that are within range. As he walks, though, he gets hit on the back of the head with a beer bottle that was thrown by one of the audience members! Ghost turns and sneers, but keeps strutting to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, weighing in at three hundred and twelve pounds... from parts unknown... he is Ghost Machine!" Ghost slides into the ring, followed shortly by JL Crunk. Crunk pushes Ghost around, trying his best to get him pumped for the match as the audience boos the two. They don't seem to notice or care thou *Bang!* Holy crap that even caught me by surprise! An eruption of sparks launches from the front of the entrance stage. Out of the back comes... Heff? Heff walks out wearing the outfit usually adorned by the Dance Squad! He stands there nervously waiting for his cue. Everybody dance now!!! Heff breaks it down! First shaking what his momma gave him, then transitioning into the robot! "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)" by C & C Music Factory blares out over the arena p.a. system, making the scene all the more... strange. "I think I'm going to be sick..." King notes. "You and the whole state of Iowa, King." The crowd on hand doesn't know if they should boo Heff or laugh at the display. A mixed reaction for the ages, I guess. The Crimson Skull shoots out of the back with a look of anger on his face and heads directly towards the ring. Heff stops dancing and follows. "... and his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and eighty-five pounds... from parts unknown... he is The Crimson Skull!" "These two have very similar styles, King. Both preferring to brawl and wear out their opponents rather than hit them with any speedy or highly technical moves. It should be a very interesting match." Longdogger notes. "I guess that it's the only way they teach them to wrestle in Parts Unknown." "..." Pete sits in silence. "..." King joins him. Skull makes his way down and climbs into the ring between the middle ropes. Referee David Blazenwing draws both men together to explain the rules of the match as Heff and JL Crunk wander around the outside of the ring. "Is Heff going to stay in that ridiculous costume all night?" Pete ponders. "I don't know, but I would look now if I were you... it looks like a full moon rising!" King says, pointing out Heff's wedgie for the world to see. "I think I'm going to be sick..." *Ding ding ding.* The match starts slow, with The Crimson Skull and Ghost Machine circling each other. Neither man wants to make a move first, but Ghost Machine steps up and sends a chop to Skull's throat! Usually, this might get someone in a deal of trouble, but for some reason Blazenwing just lets it slide. Skull bends down to one knee to catch his breath... but it's a trick! He rams his elbow into Ghost Machine's stomach and pushes him backwards all the way to the corner turnbuckle! Skull grabs the ropes and reels back before burying his shoulder into Machine's gut again... and again... and again! "The nasty streak that we saw last week seems to be showing itself here again," says Pete. With Machine slightly gasping for air, The Crimson Skull takes a few steps back and then comes charging in with a big boot! ... but Skull can't get his leg that high really... ... and Machine moves out of the way... ... and Skull ends up racking himself on the middle rope! He falls off in pain as Ghost Machine gets a chance to go to work on him. Machine nails a leg drop and then quickly covers The Crimson Skull! Referee Blazenwing slides in for the count. One... Two... no, Skull powers out after the one! Machine is quickly back on his feet, but Skull is still hurting from, quite literally, busting his balls. Ghost takes advantage and pulls him out towards the center of the ring before crouching down over his chest and sending a quick flurry of right hands towards his face. Skull protects his face, though, and grabs Machine by the sides of his face and headbutts him! Ghost rolls over off of him clutching his head, but he shakes it off and both men are quickly to their feet. The Crimson Skull tries to keep his slight advantage and slaps Ghost Machine across the chest... "Yeah!!!" Ghost Machine is slightly stunned, but he returns the favor and sends a chop flying to Skull's chest. "Yeah!!!" This only seems to make Skull mad though, who lays into his opponent with another chop. "Yeah!!!" ... and another! "Yeah!!!" "Wait... let me try something, Pete." King stands up out of his seat and slaps Pete across the chest! "Yeah!!!" "Interesting..." King says, nodding his head in approval. "Even more interesting," Pete picks himself off the ground and dusts himself off, "is that neither one of these men seem to be giving an inch. And even though we're only about three minutes into this match, I'd expect it to be over very soon." With Referee David Blazenwing not having his full attention on the match, Heff jumps up on the ring apron and tries to enter through the ropes. Blazenwing catches it though, and runs over to block him! On the other side of the ring, Skull jabs his fingers into Ghost Machine's eyes, causing him to jerk around to try and protect himself. This just leaves him open, though, as Skull trips Ghost into the ropes and then leans across his back, choking him on the middle rope! In comes JL Crunk to try and save the day, but when he takes a swing at Skull it does little to effect him. Skull simply turns, grabs the man by the neck, and chucks him over the top rope and to the floor below before going back to choking Ghost Machine. David Blazenwing slowly loses his attention in Heff, and turns back around to see... ... Machine on the mat, covered by The Crimson Skull. One... Two... Three! *Ding ding ding.* "Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon's voice booms out again, "the winner of this match... The Crimson Skull!!!" "Now I know you're not too up on your vegetables, King, but what color is a squash again?" "I think it's green, Pete." "Oh... because the one we had tonight was... Crimson..." To Be... Continued...

Backstage in the World Champion’s personal dressing room, Johnny Dangerous takes a few precious moments to examine his hair in the mirror. It’s hard to look your best when you have such a demanding schedule that being the World Champion brings. For the Barracuda it’s been non-stop parties since winning the big gold belt instead of showing himself to be a fighting Champion at shows. Johnny adjusts the World Title belt on his shoulder, and then smiles at his perfect look until he glimpses into the mirror once more, startled to see his tag partner Wildchild standing behind him. “Dominic,” he says, startled. Johnny quickly pivots on his heel and spins around to face Wildchild. “I thought I’d find ya hear,” says Wildchild. “You’ve ignored all of my calls lately and have failed ta’ make it to all but one show since ya won ‘dat damn belt! I think it’s about high time we had a talk.” “Alright,” says Johnny, nodding his head approvingly. “What do you want to talk about; the World Title?” “I dink it’s a little more den dat. I watched da tapes of you winning da belt and I saw what ya said to all da fans afterwards. You’ve obviously become somebody else and it’s been a long time in da running. Ever since you didn’t win Clusterfuck you’ve acted strange and slowly started to become more and more aggressive until Ground Zero…where you totally went overboard.” “Hey now, I said beforehand that I was willing to do anything it took to win that belt and I did,” Johnny responds. “It’s not my fault that nobody backstage liked how I did it, and it’s not my fault that these backstabbing punks you call fans want to turn their backs to me for it! I did what any man in my situation would do, Nic. I did whatever it took to win!” “But your not right, Johnny. Your not even acting like the man that you always told me you wanted to be when you won that belt. You used to talk about how much it disgusted you to see someone like Toxxic hold that Championship and acted they way he did and if you ever won you were going to show them what a true Champion was like…but your no different than how he was.” “Bullshit!’ snaps Johnny, “I’m far better that little snot-nosed punk ever was! You also need to realize that I have figured some things out, Nic. I’ve figured out what it takes to be Champion and what it’ll take to survive with this belt. I have to devote some time to me here.” “And in the process your forgetting about the team, Johnny. We have these tag team belts,” Wildchild says, tapping the gold belt around his waist. The same belt seemingly absent from Johnny’s apparel. “We are Wild and Dangerous, you know…the four time and reigning Tag Team Champions. Have you already forgotten your team, Johnny? Have you already forgotten that we are suppose to be forever Wild?” “Yeah,” says Johnny, smiling, “I’m always dangerous though. I ain’t got time for this Wildchild. You know that when it comes to tag teaming I’ll be there. You can’t have a very successful tag team defense without me, anyway.” Johnny leaves the room, leaving Wildchild with the thought that his tag partner may be forever lost… As We: FADE OUT.

“Well folks, it’s time for the opening contest of Lockdown,” Longdogger Pete says. “As you can see, Ced Ordonez and Steven Brody are already in the ring awaiting their opponents; we’ve been informed by management that a new tag team will be debuting here tonight, but apart from that we have no other information…” “I must say, they’re not giving the newcomers much of a test,” King sneers. “Ordonez is a washed-up has-been who’s barely fit to referee a match these days, let alone be in one, and as for Brody… did he ever actually wrestle?” “Steven Brody was in fact scheduled to work a couple of SWF shows but, erm, unforeseen circumstances forced him to pull out of his commitments at the last moment,” Pete replies, doing his best to ignore King’s unflattering mutters in the background. “However, he’s back here tonight and ready to show us what he’s got!” “What he’s got is an ability to be pounded into dirt!” King snaps. “I don’t know who this team is that’s debuting, but they have to be better than these two goofs!” The atmosphere in the arena is one of expectancy as Ordonez, Brody and tonight’s referee Brian Warner look towards the entrance ramp. Then the quiet is broken: ‘AND I MUST BE SOME KIND OF GEEEENNIIIIIUUUUUSSSSSSSSSS!!’ “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “What the… that’s Chris Card’s music!” Longdogger Pete exclaims as ‘Genius’ by Pitchshifter kicks up over the pa system. “We haven’t seen Card since his intervention in the Toxxic vs. Pretzler match at Ground Zero-” “-where he proved to me yet again what an unreliable man he is!” King finishes for his commentary partner with some venom. “He couldn’t keep Landon Maddix in the midcard like he was supposed to, and then he went and helped a very undeserving Toxxic pick up the win over the future of this business, Scott Pretzler!” However, despite King’s anger it is indeed the dark-haired figure of ‘Technical Perfection’ Chris Card who comes sauntering down the ramp, dressed as always in a snappy black suit with his long hair tied back and the Goth Bitch Natasha at his side. The crowd give the Englishman something of a harsh response as he sidles cockily into the ring and removes the microphone from Funyon’s grasp, then turns to address the fans. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Card begins, then stops himself and looks around at the audience. “Allegedly,” he continues, drawing a further round of boos. “You see,” Card begins again, “as gratifying as it is to run my training school up in Canada where I do my considerable best to separate gold from dross and turn the no-hopers of today into the champions of tomorrow, it just doesn’t seem right to be away from the SWF. So when I was out in the Far East, dropping into the SWF tour as it passed through Japan, I happened to encounter a couple of rather promising athletes. ‘Chris’ they said to me - in Japanese, of course -, ‘Chris, we’ve beaten so many tag teams here in Japan that we’re getting bored, and everyone’s getting so jealous of us that we can’t catch a fair break anymore. Do you know somewhere where men of our talent can prosper?’. And it just so happened that I did; here in the SWF, where with the guidance of Chris Card Enterprises these two fine men will repeat their success. So, will the production monkeys in the truck please get off their asses and earn they pay, because the hottest tag team of the day is on their way!” As Technical Perfection finishes the pulsing bass beat of ‘Tribe’ by Mad Capsule Markets starts up, coinciding with the arena lights dropping and strobes illuminating the crowd in brief, stark bursts. The Smarktron flashes up the letters ‘TKO’ one after another, and as the first guitar riff hits two shapes appear at the top of the ramp - one bigger and bulkier with short hair, one smaller and slimmer with long black hair tied back in a manner very similar to Chris Card’s. Both men are wearing black vinyl trenchcoats and mirror shades. “Introducing,” Card declares, refusing to give Funyon the mic back, “from Saitama Prefecture, Japan; at a combined weight of 483lbs, they are the newest clients of Chris Card Enterprises and the future of the SWF; TORU Takahara and KOJI Kitano, the TORU KOJI Organisation, T…K…O!!” As Card finishes speaking the muted Japanese chanting that has been taking place in the music gives out, and the roaring chorus kicks in as a flash of pyro silhouettes the SWF’s newest superstars from behind. *BOOOM!!* ‘TRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIBE! YOU’VE GOT TO STRIKE, JUSTIFY YOUR MIND!’ “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” As the two men make their way down the ramp it becomes clear which is which, as the bigger man has ‘TORU’ written on the back of his coat in silver while his smaller companion with the long hair has his name down the side of his long black tights. Upon reaching the ring both men hop up to the ring apron, then take the top rope in both hands and vault over it athletically. Natasha hurries to remove their coats, at which point TORU and KOJI both take off their mirror shades and hand them to Chris Card for safe-keeping. Technical Perfection and the Goth Bitch then leave the ring, followed by Funyon who is looking sulky at not being able to perform his usual duties. “Well, this is our first look at TKO,” Longdogger Pete says, “and I must say the fact that they are aligned with Chris Card doesn’t encourage me much.” “Something on an oversight on their part, perhaps,” King agrees, “but regardless of that I think this team looks an excellent proposition. Even the big guy looks pretty agile!” Referee Brian Warner brings the members of both teams to the middle of the ring and calls for the obligatory handshake. TKO immediately offer their hands to Brody and Ordonez, who move forward to take them… …only KOJI and TORU to whip their hands back out of the way and smooth their hair back. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Ha!” King laughs as Steven and Ced look annoyed with their opponents and Brian Warner complains. “Too slow!” “That’s really not necessary,” Longdogger Pete grumps as Warner tells TKO in no uncertain terms to play nice, “these rules have been put in place to ensure pleasant, family-friendly viewing, and these two men are making a mockery of them in their first day with the company.” Warner’s words seem to be having an effect, as KOJI and TORU reluctantly extend their hands again. Brody and Ordonez go to shake… but the time, TKO simply give them the finger and back off! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Just shake their damn hands!” Pete bawls on commentary as TKO laugh and congratulate each other while their opponents glare at them and Brian Warner begins threatening the Japanese team with fines. “Is it that hard to do!?” “Brody and Ordonez had plenty of time to shake hands,” King protests, “they just delayed too long!” Warner’s antics seem to be having some effect, as TORU and KOJI appear to be paying some attention to the ranting referee and this time acknowledge that yes, they are done playing around. With that both men stride forwards, reach out their hands… but then stop, back up and hold up a finger (not the middle one this time) to ask Brody and Ordonez to wait just one second. Steven and Ced simply hold their hands out, making sure there can be no question of them missing the opportunity as they wait for TKO to finish whatever they’re doing… *HAAAWWWKK!* *PTUI!* “EEEEEEUUUUUUUURRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd groan in disgust as TORU and KOJI each hawk a large, green, snotty gob of phlegm into their respective palms, then turn around and reach for Brody and Ordonez… but their opponents, so eager to shake hands a moment before, are now scrambling out of the way! “Fine them! Fine them!” King shouts as Brian Warner tries to reason with the two disgusted wrestlers. “They’re not shaking hands, Warner!” “That’s horrible!” Pete declares in revulsion, “TKO are-” “-they’re offering to shake hands, and their opponents are refusing!” King cuts him off. “Nowhere in these ridiculous rules does it say what condition the hand has to be in when it’s offered for shaking!” Despite Brian Warner’s attempts to get Ordonez and Brody to shake, neither man wants any part of it. Unfortunately for them TKO seem to be rather offended by this lack of sportsmanlike conduct, and as Warner continues to try and make everyone play by the rules KOJI and TORU suddenly burst past him and- *SMAK-SMAK!* -nail their opponents with stereo running palmstrikes to the face, using the be-snotted hands! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” *DING-DING-DING!* Warner gives up and calls for the bell, but the surprise attack caught Ordonez and Brody off-guard. TORU is busy burying knee after knee into the midsection of Steven Brody, before backing off a step and then driving another one into the side of his doubled-over opponent’s head so hard that the Trenton Tornado tumbles through the ring ropes and out to the arena floor! Meanwhile, Ced blocks a right-footed roundhouse from KOJI, then catches the left leg as the long-haired wrestler tries a different approach and proceeds to nail his Japanese opponent with a dragon screw legwhip! “LET’S GO CE-ED!” Unfortunately for the fans the Bemani Cross Wizard is unable to maintain his momentum as TORU grabs him from behind and hauls him up into a sidewalk slam position, then drops him over one knee with a backbreaker. As the fans boo TORU scoops Ced up again, this time as if for an inverted sidewalk slam, but instead of a gutbuster the big man waits for his partner to get back to his feet, at which point KOJI slaps a front facelock on Ordonez and TKO sit out with a modified double-team implant DDT! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The hearts of the fans rise for a moment as Steven Brody clambers back onto the apron, then vaults over the top rope and twists in midair to springboard back off the second cable with a moonsault, snaring TORU in a reverse headlock on the way down and setting him up for a Reverse DDT… *CRACK!* …but KOJI grabs his partner’s arm and lashes out with a vicious roundhouse over TORU’s bended body that connects with Brody’s jaw and floors the Thunder From East Rutherford, then hauls TORU back upright before he falls to the mat! Both men then reach down to pick Brody up before throwing him over the top rope and to the outside once more. “Now that’s what I call teamwork!” Suicide King says in delight. Referee Brian Warner has had more than enough of both members of TKO being in the ring at once and he orders one of them to leave to the outside. TORU sneers at the referee but departs, leaving KOJI with the dazed Ced Ordonez who appears to be the legal man by default for the New Jersey Cross Wizards. Kitano proceeds to haul Ordonez up to his feet again before slapping the taste out of his opponent’s mouth- “OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!” -delivering a left-footed roundhouse to the jaw- *CRACK!* -and then grabbing his opponent before twisting around with a swinging neckbreaker! Ced grabs his head in pain but KOJI doesn’t let up, rolling the former Tag Champion onto his stomach before placing one foot in the middle of Ced’s back and taking hold of both wrists. The dastardly man from Japan then hauls back on Ordonez’ trapped limbs to stretch his spine with a surfboard… then stomps Ced’s head hard back down into the mat! “That must be the Darkness Stomp!” Suicide King says, leafing hastily through some notes. “Where did you get those from?” Pete asks, “we didn’t even know who these guys were a moment ago!” “Ahh, even when it’s not his show Tom Flesher will still provide,” King laughs, ushering away the member of SWF crew who brought him the information. Kitano keeps hold of one of Ced’s arms and drags the unfortunate Californian towards the TKO corner, where he reaches out and tags in TORU. KOJI then drags Ced back to where he was before and applies the surfboard again, but this time when he stomps Ordonez’ head down TORU Takahara follows it up by bouncing off the ropes and nailing a kneedrop into the back of Ced’s skull. TORU then rolls onto his knees and gives the dazed Ced a double middle finger while KOJI stands proud atop his opponent, posing like a big game hunter! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Warner has already reached his five-count and demands that KOJI leave the ring, which the long-haired wrestler does (albeit with exceedingly bad grace). TORU then picks Ced up and nails him with a left forearm… and right forearm… a left knee to the head, a right knee to the head and then bitchslaps his opponent hard across the face, causing Ordonez to wobble a full three hundred and sixty degrees. As Ced staggers back to face his opponent Takahara backs off a couple of steps, then charges forwards and vaults off Ced’s right leg before swinging his own around for a Shining Enzuigiri… …that Ced ducks! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” TORU lands on his front but scrambles back up to his feet again, only for Ced to leap athletically into the air and hit an enzuigiri of his own! It speaks something for the toughness of Takahara that although he drops to one knee he doesn’t go down, but it gives Ordonez enough time to head for his corner and tag in Steven Brody. Brody steps through the ropes, clearly eager to get to grips with his opponents and charges across the ring… …but TORU jumps into the air and hurricanranas him, sending Brody skidding across the remainder of the squared circle until he arrives in a crumpled heap in the TKO corner! “Did you see that!?” Pete yelps, startled, “that was a hurricanrana from a man who must be about 6’4 and 260lbs!” “I said he was agile!” King laughs, then glances down his notes again. “Hey, Pete - you’ll never guess what he uses to finish people off…” There is a brief silence on commentary as TORU gets back to his feet and flips the bird at Ced Ordonez, causing Brian Warner to confront the big man about such obscene actions on a family-friendly show… meanwhile, KOJI and Chris Card have got one of Brody’s legs each and use this chance to pull their man hard into the ringpost, groin-first! *CHING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “A Shooting Star Press?” Pete asks, looking up from King’s piece of paper and having totally missed TKO’s blatant piece of rule-breaking, “TORU Takahara does a Shooting Star?” “Yup,” King says in some satisfaction, “and KOJI isn’t much nicer.” Brian Warner has noticed that Brody seems to be in more pain that he should be from a humble hurricanrana, but at the same time he can’t call what he didn’t see so he signals rather grumpily for TORU to continue. The big man is more than happy to oblige, and picks Brody up before burying another knee into his midsection. The impact blasts the breath from the Trenton Tornado’s lungs and causes him to double over even further than the pain in his groin already has, but his general health isn’t improved much as TORU hits the ropes and charges back to level his opponent with a stiff running knee strike to the temple! “Yeah, that does look nasty,” LDP admits, still perusing King’s list. “Oh… and that. And that… hey, is that even legal?” “Yeah, it’s a legal choke as long as you use the opponent’s arm or arms to choke himself,” King informs his commentary partner. “Believe me, what I don’t know about chokeholds and rule-breaking isn’t worth knowing.” Steven Brody is taking a real battering in the ring as Takahara picks him up again (with no discernible effort) and places his opponent in a fallaway slam position before wandering back to his corner to allow KOJI to tag himself in. Warner starts his five-count as TORU moves away again, facing across the ring towards the concerned Ced Ordonez as KOJI climbs to the top rope… then the big man abruptly stops, crouches slightly and performs a standing moonsault, crushing Brody beneath him on landing! “Blockbuster Slam from TORU Takahara!” Longdogger Pete shouts, adding as an afterthought, “Holy cr-” “-family show, MacDougal,” King cuts in, well aware that the profanity fines are levied on them both. The crowd seem slightly too stunned by the site of a 260lb man acting like a cruiserweight and so are refraining from adding their own input to the sound, but they can’t suppress a collective gasp as TORU rolls to one side and the newly-legal KOJI Kitano comes off the top rope with a somersault kneedrop! *BANG!* KOJI doesn’t give Brian Warner a chance to make his own exclamation of shock as he immediately covers Steven Brody… ONE! …but then pulls his shoulder up off the mat! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Card, Natasha and TKO laugh, although Ced Ordonez seems mildly relieved. However, the Bemani Cross Wizard seems less pleased when KOJI hauls the Trenton Tornado to his feet again and rakes him across the eyes! Brody staggers away into the TKO corner… when TORU rakes him across the eyes as well! Brody staggers back out, blindly groping towards his corner. However, KOJI is still in the way and he proceeds to give the blinded Brody the finger before slapping him hard across the face, then snapmares him over and kicks the man from New Jersey as hard as he can in the back of the head! “Is that really necessary?” Pete asks in disgust. “Yes. Yes, I think so,” King answers after due deliberation. Brody is holding his head, but KOJI doesn’t give him time to recover; instead the long-haired Japanese wrestler brings the Thunder from East Rutherford back up to his feet, boots him in the gut and hooks him for a suplex. However as Brody reaches a vertical position KOJI suddenly kicks his legs out and drops him straight down in a brainbuster! The fans make an ‘oooh’ sound of sympathetic pain and Warner instantly crouches to check on Brody, but KOJI simply laughs and flips the bird at his spasming opponent, then tags in TORU, who steps through the ropes, flips the bird… and tags straight back out! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “IS THAT NECESSARY!?” Pete bellows. “It’s legal!” King splutters with laughter. “That was perfectly legal!” KOJI is back in the ring now, and has a quick conversation with TORU in Japanese before grabbing Brody and turning him over onto his stomach, then hauling back on his arms to put him in the same surfboard position that he used on Ced Ordonez. The referee starts checking on Brody, but KOJI winks at him and nods to the turnbuckle. Warner looks up, then rolls away desperately as TORU comes off the top rope with a MASSIVE kneedrop to the back of Brody’s suspended head! *BANG!* “THAT WAS SICK!” “THAT WAS SICK!” Despite their apparent hated of the team, some of the fans decide to chant in a way that could, under some circumstances, be seen as approving. TKO don’t care one way or the other however, and simply dust off their hands before simultaneously spitting on Steven Brody! “That’s horrible!” Pete yells in anger, “…and Ced has seen enough!” Ced indeed has seen enough, and the Bemani Cross Wizard has stepped through the ropes and charges across the ring towards his Japanese opponents. Unfortunately for him, they see him coming. *CRACK!* “Double roundhouse!” King shouts in delight as TORU’s right foot and KOJI’s left make an unpleasant duet on Ced’s jaw. The former Tag Champion crumples, but almost instantly TORU hauls him back upright, then knees him in the gut and double-underhooks his arms. As Brian Warner finishes chastising TKO and starts actually administering his five-count, TORU hoists upwards until Ced’s head is pointing towards the ceiling, then sits out while KOJI adds some extra emphasis by placing one hand on each of Ced’s shoulders and throwing him towards the mat! *BANG!* “Tiger Explosion!” King calls as the Spike Tiger Driver shakes the ring. Chris Card and Natasha burst into apparently spontaneous applause outside the ring, while Warner comes to the end of his five count… to find TORU rolling under the ropes and out of the ring. The referee turns back to KOJI in time to see Kitano pick the considerably dazed Steven Brody up (pausing briefly to kick Ced out under the bottom rope to the floor) and slap the man from New Jersey a couple of times in a desultory way, then reach out to tag TORU Takahara back in. “This is certainly beautiful tag team tactics from TKO,” King says to Longdogger Pete. “It’s a mugging King, a damn mugging!” LDP replies with scorn. TORU steps back through the ropes and bends down to place his head between Brody’s legs before straightening up, taking the Trenton Tornado’s weight onto his shoulders in an electric chair position. KOJI has already exited the ring, but TORU tags him straight back in again before backing a couple of steps away from the turnbuckle. KOJI quickly ascends to the top rope as Warner begins his five count again, then the long-haired man leaps out into the air… …lands astride Steven Brody’s shoulders, far atop the ring… “What the…?” Pete asks in astonishment. …then KOJI spins around one hundred and eighty degrees whilst still on Brody’s shoulders until he is facing the same way as his victim before snapping backwards in the same motion and reverse rana-ing the Trenton Tornado off TORU’s shoulders down to the mat RIGHT ON HIS FUCKING SKULL… *BANG!!* “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” Brian Warner finishes gawping at this truly sick, head-dropping move and drops the make the count as KOJI casually covers. It’s pretty academic. ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! *DING-DING-DING* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon declares, “the winners of this match… T!K!O!” “That, Drain-Clogger, was the TKO Spike,” Suicide King informs his aghast commentary partner, “a move that won this duo many a tag title in the Far East.” “King, I can’t believe that TKO just took apart a team containing Ced Ordonez, former tag team champion, in under five minutes,” LDP replies. “I mean he might be a little out of practice, but still…” “Well, if it helps you reconcile it in any way, he did have Steven Brody as a tag partner,” King says with a chuckle, “he’d probably have been better off on his own.” Meanwhile in the ring, Brian Warner is raising TKO’s arms in acknowledgement of their victory. TORU and KOJI snatch their arms away and are only content when Natasha enters the ring and performs the arm-raising task. Meanwhile, Chris Card has got the mic from Funyon again and enters the ring. "You know, this is just the start of what TKO can do in this Federation,” Technical Perfection declares as Brian Warner tries to get Ced Ordonez and Steven Brody into an upright enough position to raise their arms as well, in accordance with Lockdown rules, “and with them by my side it feels so good to be back. But you know,” Card continues with a wry grin, looking at particular at Steven Brody, “it would be rude of me to leave tonight without leaving my CALLING CARD!" *WHAM!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Chris Card just superkicked Steven Brody in the chest!” Longdogger Pete exclaims in disgust as the Thunder From East Rutherford is taken completely off his feet by the shot from the former SJL European Champion. Warner yells at Card but Technical Perfection merely laughs, and together he, Natasha and the triumphant TKO (with TORU already wearing his shades again) step out through the ropes and begin to head up the entrance ramp towards the backstage area. “Well, whatever else happens tonight I can virtually guarantee it won’t be that entertaining,” Suicide King smirks. “That is, unless we have the Crimson Skull booked. Do we?” “As far as I know, he should be wrestling Ghost Machine next,” LDP replies grumpily. “Ahh, superb,” the Gambling Man declares. “I like a man who’ll wrestle for crab cakes. Let’s take a commercial break, just so the rubes at home can see all the wonderful mod cons they’ll never be able to afford.”

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! LIVE, WEDNESDAY AUGUST 24th, FROM THE VETERAN'S MEMORIAL AUDITORIUM IN DES MOINES, IOWA! (5PM PST, 8PM EST; check local listings) Send all materials (marked matches, promos, Purple Hearts, etc.) to Ace309. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Main Event - SWF Cruiserweight Championship Match "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. JJ Johnson © --> Spike Jenkins blatantly disregarded all of our Family Friendly rules, declaring all out war on CC, and ended up being the black eye on an otherwise well-recieved Family Friendly show. But in a war between clean, wholesome programming and selling tickets, tickets win out. Spike's shenanigans drew huge ratings during the live broadcast and on the repeat - how can we keep a guy like that off the air? What's more, Spike holds a clean win over JJ, before he won the Cruiserweight Championship. In a somewhat suspicious act of charity, Tom Flesher has authorized a rematch. Does he suspect Spike might play by Family Friendly rules now that a championship is on the line, or is something far fouler afoot? (yay alliteration!) Rules: Standard, with Pure Wrestling addenda - each wrestler has three rope breaks. A wrestler loses a rope break when he throws a closed-fist punch or uses the ropes to break a submission hold. If a wrestler with no rope breaks left attempts to use the ropes to break a submission hold, the rope break is of no effect and the submission stays on; if he throws a punch, he is disqualified. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Devon Walters vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke © (non-title) --> This space never said Landon Maddix. Fix your glasses. Jay Hawke suffered what some might consider an upset on Storm, getting pinned by the Unique Youth, Zyon, in the main event! These two will clash again sometime soon, but right now, we'll see if Karma's errand-boy can't give Hawke a little of what he's got coming to him. Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Manson vs. El Luchadore Magnifico --> ELM. DANNY. IT'S ON. It's on later, though. Tonight, Mags goes up against the pioneer of Mansonosity, a movement which has positively influenced millions of people worldwide! Is Manson just another stepping stone on Magnifico's return to the top, or will Manson rock this party like it's 1999? Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Todd Cortez vs. Marcus Ward --> Marcus Ward might have retained his Hardcore title. Or maybe he didn't. At the time of this posting, it's a mysteryyyyyy! So, without knowing what's what, I'm just going to put him in a match... ... against Todd MF'n Cortez! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Crimson Skull vs. Ghost Machine --> Bizarro supervillain vs. possible robot! Two of the SWF's wackiest characters go head to head! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Bonus Last-minute Addition TKO (TORU Takahara & KOJI Kitano) vs Ced Ordonez and Steven Brody --> Ahhh, fresh meat. Rules: Standard tag match. Use the tag ropes.

My incompetence knows no bounds. If no earlier, the show will be up by the end of my lunch break.

I should make it clear that I had gotten promises from various people that they would dig up said links and relied on thatr, which is one reason it never went up.

I sent last year's noms to Toxxic. I now wash my hands of them and will go back to doing what I do well rather than what I feel I should.

If anyone wants, I have nominations from last year saved for everything except Free TV MOTY, which had no serious nominations. If someone else handles the process this year (since I think I've proven I'm incapable of it), I'll put up last year's nominations for a vote.

Just an observation. Zip up, boys.

Well, this turned into a pissing contest in record time.

I love eel rolls, and a good shiitake-cucumber roll. The Spider Roll with the fried soft-shell crab is always good as well, and I usually order a tamago piece.

Well, that's the first I've heard of that.

Sorry, Manson. Thoth, you're just fine not paying attention. You'll get overstimulated. Now let's get some beer in you and put you straight to bed.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, AUGUST 15TH, 2005, LIVE FROM THE WACHOVIA CENTER IN PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) Matches are due to markers at 8 PM EST. Marked matches, promos, any extra liberty you might have lying around, etc. are due to Chuck Woolery at 10 PM EST. The SWF continues its triumphant return to the United States by rolling through Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and into the Wachovia Center! They haven't dropped by here since Mak Francis retired, so it's up to the SWFers to put on a better-than-average show to make up for it. The World Title scene is wide open, with Ejiro Fasaki unable to live up to the pressure his former stablemate put on him. Who will step up? A rising star faces off against someone with a grudge against management. Two hard-hitting newcomers face off, with one ready to crack skulls and the other only hoping to avoid a fight. Ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be a good one. MAIN EVENT El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Todd Cortez ~ Magnifico is coming off a big win over World Champion Johnny Dangerous' tag team partner, Wildchild, at Ground Zero London. Cortez, meanwhile, took a tough loss to Landon Maddix at the Vegas show. However, as Landon's draw with Ejiro Fasaki showed, at the top of the card you can't put too much stock in wins and losses except head-to-head. Let's see who takes this one! Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 5500 Send To: Chuck Woolery CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Scott Pretzler © vs. JJ Johnson ~ Former Revolution-Zero members face off with the Cruiserweight Title on the line! Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda - there is a 20-count on the outside instead of 10, and throwing your opponent over the top rope is grounds for immediate disqualification. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Ace309 CRUISERWEIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA Zyon vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins Special Guest Commentator: Tom Flesher ~ Zyon's star is rising, particularly after his defeat of Marcus Ward on Lockdown. Meanwhile, Spike Jenkins and Tom Flesher have been having another run-in. Could this match be a way of silencing Spike, with Flesher fully expecting Zyon to take the win over the rusty Revolution-Zero alum? Yes, we think it could. Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda. If you need help with the storyline or the characterization of Flesher on the mic, please talk to Spike and Tom. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: Justice NONTITLE MATCH Marcus Ward © vs. Devon Walters ~ The pacificist takes on the angry Bavarian in a match not to be missed! Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: The Superstar SINGLES MATCH Nick "Hitlist" Blum vs. Ghost Machine ~ Neither of these guys can seem to buy a win lately. Let's see what happens when we face them off! Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 3000 Send To: chirs3 OPENING CONTEST The Crimson Skull vs. Martin "Big Country" Hunt ~ This mysterious newcomer showed up at the office and signed a provisional contract. We're not quite sure what to expect from him, except that he keeps muttering about Cyclone Comet. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 3000 Send To: Chuck Woolery Opening Promo: SWF International Champion "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke Also Appearing: SWF World Champion Johnny Dangerous! Wildchild! Landon Maddix! All on this week's SMARKDOWN!

You clearly misread the card.