Ace309

"Well, it's now time for our main event and it promises to be an intriguing one, King. Ejiro Fasaki, former World Heavyweight Champion, set to take on Landon Maddix, former World Heavyweight Champion. Both guys obviously want the belt and this could be seen as an unnofficial #1 Contendership Match by our esteemed booking committee." "Esteemed?" scoffs King. "Did you see the memo they've given us?" "You mean, the new Family Friendly Lockdown Rules. Gee-willikers, King, they're awesome!" "If you ask me, they're a bunch of bullsh...er, uhm...frog." "Bullfrog?" "Yeah, you know...as in, they make me hopping mad. Heh." "I see." "Yeah. Can't wait until they make Tom become SpongeTomFlesherPants or some other such idiocy. And, speaking of idiocy, we've got Ejiro versus Maddix in the main event tonight. Which braintrust thought that'd be a good idea. Yeesh! And another thing...since when did each show need a gimmick?" King pauses. "We...we can say gimmick, right?" "I don't see why not." "So, I could say, 'he jammed his gimmick right up her cu..." "WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA!!" "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" The family crowd aren't exactly friendly right now, booing wildly as "Megalomaniac" by Incubus hits. A special, edited version, with mention of the dreaded f-word dubbed over with a horn and a slide whistle. Stepping through the curtains, Landon Maddix stops at the top of the stage and surveys the crowd, thrusting his arms out to the side to another tumultitude of boos. A large bandaid is noticeable on Maddix's forehead as he walks towards the ring, battlescars from the Casino Brawl still evident on his upper body also. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for your MAAAAIIINN EVENT!" booms Funyon, channelling the power of Todd Grisham momentarily. "It is scheduled for one fall, with TV time remaining. Introducing first, from Huron, South Dakota...weighing in at two hundred, twenty two pounds. His favourite super-hero is Spiderman! This is LANDON... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIXXXXXXXXX!!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "Favourite super-hero!?!" groans King. "Hey, kids want to know that sort of stuff." shrugs Pete. Maddix leaps to the apron and pulls himself to his feet, once again holding out his arms to soak up the boos and jeers from the rowd, before vaulting in over the top rope. Removing his jacket, Maddix's upper body sports even more small scars now, all of which a reminder of what happened at Ground Zero. All of which firing up even more ahead of this crucial match. POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPOPPOPPOP! Suddenly, the immortalistic machine-gun pyro of Ejiro Fasaki fires up across the stage, heralding the arrival of the dethroned Champion. Fasaki is clearly in no mood to mess around tonight as he storms out through the curtains and begins to stride down the rampway. The crowd applaud Ejiro, not that he seems to notice, too busy heading straight for the ring. "And, his opponent. From Sarasota, Florida...he weighs two hundred and twenty three pounds. His favourite super-hero, Judge William Hearford..." "Eh, he's good, but he's no super-hero." muses King. "...the two time, former SWF World Heavyweight Champion of the WOOORRLLDD... EEEEJJJIIIIIIRRRRRROOOOOO... FFFFAAAAA - SSSAAAAAKKKIIIIIIIIII!!!" "YYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" Getting a much warmer reception tonight than in Las Vegas last time out, Ejiro jogs determinedly up the ring steps and enters the ring. "E - JI - RO!" "E - JI - RO!" "E - JI - RO!" Off comes the yellow robe and Ejiro is ready to go, the word 'former' in his introduction grating through him and evoking the memories of Ground Zero also. But before Ejiro can kick the match off, he's stopped by referee Nicky Soapdish and held back from a pre-emptive strike. With the fans behind him, Ejiro is ready and waiting. Quite what he's waiting for though, he's not sure. Until Soapdish finally motions to first Ejiro, then Maddix, that they both have to shake hands. A sneer from Maddix seems to say 'Yeah, right, as if'...and Ejiro doesn't seem much more anxious to shake hands himself. Rules are rules though and Soapdish again calls in Ejiro and Maddix, again motioning for them to shake. Ejiro eventually steps forward, but Maddix stays firmly rooted in his corner. "Oh no, don't tell me he's going to break the Code Of Honor!" "DANGERRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSS~!" Soapdish continues to hassle Maddix and finally, tiring of his arguement with someone he's not exactly had a good relationship with in recent weeks, Maddix relents and walks forward. A tense moment commences as Maddix and Ejiro come face to face, Ejiro extending...and Maddix shaking. *DINGDINGDING!* Satisfied, Soapdish calls for the bell in mid-handshake...which allows Ejiro to suddenly whip underneath Maddix's arm, applying a hammerlock before Maddix has chance to know what's happening! Maddix drops to his knees as Ejiro quickly tightens the hammerlock, ignoring a reprimand from Hardcastle for his skullduggery as he does so. "YYYYYEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!" "Ejiro has never been one to play to the rules, but you've gotta think he'll be even more sneaky tonight." points out Pete. "After all, he's in the ring with someone equally as treacherous as he is, if not more so!" Maddix comes back to his feet as Ejiro eagerly wrenches the arm up towards his opponent's shoulder blades. Grimacing, Maddix reaches back, looking to grab Ejiro's head and lever his way out. A flick of the head from Ejiro stops that. So Maddix goes low, between the legs, trying to pull a foot away. Ejiro avoids that too and suddenly spins Maddix around to face him. The hammerlock is still applied with one arm, as Fasaki scoops low with the other and lifts Maddix up, planting him with a Hammerlock Slam! Instantly Landon snaps up to his feet, clutching his arm and howling in pain. Ejiro promptly grabs him again, re-applying his hammerlock and re-gaining his hold on the opponent. A snarl from Maddix shows that already he's frustrated. But he's not beat yet, wrapping his legs around Ejiro's and twisting to the side, taking Rule's vertical base away. Both men scramble back to their feet, Maddix not bothering to chain his reversal into a hold, proving to be a mistake as Ejiro instantly whips off a DEEEP~ armdrag! Ejiro bars the arm as he lands, trapping Maddix once more to the delight of the crowd. "And so far, Ejiro is keeping his cool, despite clearly being disappointed at his loss at Ground Zero." "Well, Ejiro's a professional." admits King. "He knows that Landon couldn't wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag and he also knows that, if he can keep his cool, he'll probably have this match wrapped up with no problems." Adding his knee to the side of Maddix's head, Ejiro tugs upwards with his armbar in an attempt to tug Landon's shoulder from it's socket. Soapdish drops down, checking for a submission, getting a firm 'NO' from Maddix for his troubles. Continuing to tug on the arm, Ejiro steps forward and turns Landon over onto his front. Now sat on the shoulder of his opponent, the former World Champion rocks back and forth, loosening up the socket...before suddenly dropping back. As Fasaki takes the arm with him, Landon knows he's in trouble and desperately tries to lace his fingers together to prevent a cross armbreaker being applied. And when that fails, he even more desperately shoots a foot over the bottom rope, to force a break. "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FI..." Ejiro holds the arm until the last moment, perhaps hoping he could pull Landon away. Frustrated at Soapdish, Landon pulls himself up and starts to argue with the official to be less lenient with his count next time. Beside him, Ejiro patiently watches on as Maddix eventually finishes his verbal tirade, turning around and getting swept over with another armdrag takeover by Fasaki! "Landon needs to get his mind off the official and on Ejiro Fasaki here!" criticises Pete. "Well, it doesn't help that Nick Soapdish has been assigned for the match. Let's face it, Landon is pretty good at holding grudges for little to no reason." "Of course, you'd know nothing about that." "I have plenty of reasons to hold a grudge against this kid. Infact, it this were a longer show, I'd gladly list them for you." offers King, removing a folded length of paper from his jacket and displaying it to Pete. In an effort to stay family friendly, Landon holds his expletives in his he finds himself flat on his face, Ejiro holding his arm in a hammerlock with the knee pressed against the elbow. Keeping Landon's arm pinned down, Ejiro then springs off his toes and drives a knee into the hammerlocked arm. Maddix groans in pain, as Ejiro grinds his knee primatively into the back of the arm to add more pain. With his left arm holding Maddix's right in place, Ejiro then hooks back the free left arm with his right. Both arms of Maddix are now controlled and he's helpess as Ejiro leans back and positions him on his shoulders with a pinning combination... ONE! TW... Maddix kicks out, falling forwards...and finding his arm still trapped in the hammerlock. "Clever pinfall attempt by Ejiro. He gambled on a surprise pin, but at the same time didn't risk losing his original hold." With the hold applied, Ejiro is now facing the opposite direction from Maddix, placing a knee either side of Landon's head to keep him further pinned down. Maddix's arm is in more of a chickenwing than a hammerlock now as Ejiro pulls from above rather than below. Trying to find an escape, Maddix pushes up onto his knees. His head is still trapped, but with a little re-adjustment, he manages to prise his head from between Fasaki's legs, allowing him to elevate up onto (free) hand and knees. Immediately, Landon then twists to the side, turning his back on Ejiro and climbing back up, the hold on the arm now back to a traditional hammerlock. Ejiro wrenches the arm upwards again to try and subdue Maddix. A back elbow leaves Ejiro dazed though, a second allowing Maddix to reach back and catch Ejiro unawares into a 3/4 facelock. Pushing off from the mat, Maddix tries for a snapmate. Ejiro is wise to his tactics though, releasing Landon suddenly as he hangs in mid-air, causing him to drop straight south with his body weight crushing his arm underneath! "OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!" The crowd groans as Maddix writhes on the canvas in agony. Pressing a hand to his temple, Ejiro shakes off the effects of the elbows before going back on the offence. Ejiro pulls Landon's arm from underneath his body, flattening it out on the canvas and driving a boot into the shoulder. Maddix recoils and clutches his arm with gritted teeth. He's soon in more pain though, as Ejiro re-flattens the arm and pinpoints a spot to drive a sharp knee into! "Ejiro, ruthless on this arm, which is usually his strategy." points out Pete. "But it's doubly effective tonight, as of course Maddix suffered a minor injury to that arm during the Casino Brawl and actually had to have stitches to close a wound on his right bicep." "I doubt Ejiro is smart enough to know that, but regardless, family friendly joy and praise to him, and such." Pulling himself back up, Maddix throws a desperation left-handed forearm towards Fasaki, which he easily evades, leaving Maddix wide open for a boot to the gut. Applying a front facelock, Ejiro pops his hips and Maddix becomes a sudden, snap suplexed blur as he's taken over in textbook style. Ejiro rolls straight over and follows with a pin... ONE! TW... Maddix shoots an arm up... ...but Ejiro grabs that same arm, applying a quick armbar on it. "E - JI - RO!" "E - JI - RO!" "E - JI - RO!" The fans are loving the display of dominance on Ejiro's part, chanting his name as he pulls back on the arm. Maddix drags himself to his feet despite the pain his arm is in, trying to formulate some escape plan. Before he can put anything into action, Ejiro wrings the arm back into a hammerlock which causes Maddix to drop to his knees in a mixture of frustration and pain. Happy to relax his focus slightly for a moment, Ejiro reaches up and ruffles the precious locks of The Next Generation. That predictably frustrates La Cucaracha, hurriedly trying to fix his hair as he snaps to his feet and storms around trying to alert Soapdish's attention to the not exactly illegal tactic...so Ejiro wrenches on the hammerlock again, dropping Maddix back to his knees. The hammerlock is slowly but surely weakening Landon's arm and he knows it, forcing himself back up to his feet. Landon reaches back as he gains a vertical base, applying a 3/4 facelock. Thinking he knows what's coming next, Fasaki apparantly doesn't think too much of the plan as he lets Maddix hold on, waiting for him to jump up like earlier. Clearly, he isn't expecting Landon to suddenly dive forwards, planting an unprepared Ejiro on his forehead with a Snapmare Driver!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "Great counter by Landon, but he's going to have trouble capitalising with that arm injury." comments Pete. Maddix rolls away from Fasaki, clutching his arm and looking a little surprised to have hit his first real offensive move of the match. His opponent is laid flat out, prompting Maddix to forget about his arm injury and rolls Ejiro onto his back for a pin... ONE! T.. Kickout. Ejiro is comfortably out before three, but Maddix has bought himself time to recover now. Retreating to the corner, Landon tries to rub some feeling into his numb limb while Ejiro slowly drags himself back up. As he does, out of the corner charges Maddix, stopping just in front of Ejiro and pushing himself up onto Ejiro's shoulders one-handed, before tumbling back with a HurriLanrana. Ejiro rolls through to his feet, but is clearly dis-orientated, falling back into the ropes. Grabbing him there, Maddix sends Ejiro out with a laboured irish whip. Bearings re-gained, Ejiro puts the skids on and slides to a stop in mid-ring, but Maddix is prepared early, diving at Ejiro as he comes to one knee... "SHINING WIZAAAAAA..." ...DUCKED!! Landon crashes forward, landing on his right side and folding his arm up underneath the rest of his body again! "Ejiro, narrowly evading that Shining Wizard which has been the finish of many high profile matches in Maddix's career." "Well, he went for too much too early, simple as that." is King's critical response. Rolling off of his arm, Maddix remains down and hurting. Ejiro meanwhile staggers up, shaking off some cobwebs before encouraging Maddix to get back to his feet. Doing just that, Maddix clings onto his arm in agony as he turns around slowly. Ejiro catches him with a quick boot to the gut, before snatching Landon's arm from his grip and wrenching it up beside his head with an overhead wristlock. With that applied, Ejiro places his leg behind Landon's and tries to back-trip him to the canvas. Rather than fall straight to the mat, The Next Generation puts up a fighting, bridging backwards until his head reaches the canvas. In that position, Landon seems ready to attempt an escape. Ejiro is a step ahead however, sweeping Maddix's legs from underneath him and breaking the bridge. Quick as a flash, Ejiro then places Maddix's palm flat on the canvas, elbow protruding, driving a knee down into the awkwardly positioned arm! Landon is left writhing in agony again, as Ejiro now goes into what he had planned originally, lacing Landon's arm between his legs, before applying a short arm scissors. "And once again, Maddix finds himself in a frustrating predicament." Pete calls. "Namely, a submission hold focusing on the right arm." "A submission hold he's clueless over how to get out of too." King makes sure to note. "Well, Ejiro knows that perfectly well, which is why he's going back to submissions holds...back to a slow pace. Ejiro can afford to take his time tonight. Which is important, considering he's coming off that tough match with Johnny Dangerous last Sunday." As Ejiro pulls back on the hold and waits for a possible submission, Maddix makes his move and rolls backwards, ending up on his front with Ejiro on his, the hold still applied but in the wrong position to have maximum effects. Wisely, Ejiro notices this and changes his grip, coming to his knees with an armbar applied. Ejiro stops as Maddix reaches his knees, bringing a knee up into the sternum, before taking the arm by the wrist. With his right leg behind the shoulder, Ejiro uses his left in front to turn behind Maddix, applying a hammerlock with his legs...leaving his hands free to apply a rear chinlock in a unique looking submission hold. He then makes the hold look even more unique and even more painful, as he leans back, arching Maddix over his knees. "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Wow. I don't know what the hell to call that." admits Pete. "The end?" King suggests cheekily. "TAP!" "TAP!" "TAP!" "TAP!" Maddix finds himself bent the wrong way in this unorthodox hold, Ejiro still pulling back with the chinlock, Maddix's arm still trapped in the modified hammerlock. The crowd are begging Landon to give it up, but despite the seemingly unescapable predicament, Maddix grits in and refuses to quit. For now. Ejiro continues to pull back, teeth gritted in a sign of his determination to get back to winning ways...ruthlessly wrenching and tugging at Maddix's neck as he grows gradually more impatient. Unable to free his right arm or do anything with his left, Landon sets about sliding his legs from underneath his body... "TAP!" "TAP!" "TA..." ...and does so. In doing that, Maddix manages to shuffle out of the chinlock as well, but Ejiro clings onto the leg applied hammerlock for all he's worth! Maddix tries to stand up, putting tremendous strain on his own arm and forcing him to re-think that idea. Meanwhile, Ejiro sits up from the mat, untangling Landon's arm from the legs, applying a traditional armbar and bringing Maddix to his feet. Ejiro seems to be picking up the intensity now as he drills the point of his elbow into Maddix's shoulder, before wringing out the arm. Looking for leverage, Maddix pushes his free hand up underneath Ejiro's chin, trying to lever him back towards the ropes, but Ejiro shakes that off, driving in another elbow and wrenching up on the arm a second time. Landon grimaces and begins to fall to his knees, but tries again suddenly with the arm underneath Ejiro's chin to push him back. Ejiro again tries to shake Landon off. This time though, in reaching out, Landon manages to gouge a finger out into Ejiro's eye with enough force for Ejiro to release the armbar, clutching at his eye as the crowd mercilessly boo Maddix. "What a surprise, Maddix going to the eyes to escape." groans King. Landon tries to pass off the eyepoke as an accident...and while Soapdish is clearly suspicious, he didn't get a good enough view to actually tell and can do nothing except reprimand La Cucaracha. A reprimand that falls on deaf ears, as Maddix is already closing in on Ejiro. With his arm still hanging loose, Landon decides the best course of action is to use his feet, blasting the kneeling Ejiro in the face with a straight kick. Reeling backwards, Ejiro stumbles into the corner, Maddix following and booting Ejiro in the gut. Again. And a third time, leaving Ejiro breathless as well as partially blinded. Quickly Landon grabs Ejiro around the head after the third kick, pulling him out of the corner and s l o w l y raking Ejiro's eyes across the length of the top rope! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "Landon might want to think twice about moves like that, on family friendly Lockdown, King. I'm sure that'd break one of Joseph Peters' rules." "Bah. Joseph Peters' rules are like the Bible...pretty much everything is a sin." snaps King. "Then again, I doubt my mom would feel too friendly if I did that to her. And don't think I wouldn't have back in the day, stupid memo or no stupid memo." "Indeed." Grabbing and clawing at his eyes in anguish, Fasaki leans against the ropes... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOO!" ...and doesn't see Landon's left hand knifedge rocketing towards his chest. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOO!" ...or a second. Left handed, the chops don't have aren't executed too well, but they find their mark well enough and leave Ejiro prey for an irish whip. This time Ejiro doesn't reverse, rebounding off the ropes and getting caught on the way back with a standing dropkick! Ejiro crashes awkwardly on his shoulders, as Maddix makes sure to land safely before scrambling into a cover... ONE! TWO! Kickout. Landon, still favouring his right arm noticeably, helps Ejiro to his feet...before helping him forward by the arm into a knee to the gut. Over doubles Fasaki, as Landon suddenly hits the ropes. Bad arm and all, Maddix still has an impressive spring in his step as he leaps up, over Ejiro's head and planting his feet into Ejiro's shoulder blades with a double stomp! Forward crashes Ejiro, eventually nosediving to the canvas, as Maddix falls to his knees to tend to his arm some more. "That's the Mushroom Stomp and Landon's cooking here!" "Was that supposed to be a pun?" groans King. "Well...no, but, if it works..." "No. Trust me, it didn't." With his arm hanging to his side, Maddix takes a deep breath and tries to block out the pain, backing up into the corner *STOMP!* "Uh-oh!" *STOMP!* "Well, a bad arm isn't going to hamper Landon..." *STOMP!* "...in going for the Maddix-Kick!" Slowly Ejiro reaches his feet, using the ropes to assist him. *STOMP!* Still his vision seems to be impaired slightly, squinting heavily. *STOMP!* But he's up... *STOMP!* *STOMP!* Maddix suddenly comes jigging out of the corner, right as Ejiro turns to meet him... *SMACK!* ...and EATING a Maddix-Kick!! Ejiro topples as Maddix continues jigging, gleefully fixing his golden locks as he goes past his fallen opponent towards the ropes. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "He got 'im, and he got 'im good!" cries Pete. "Good job too, because it gives him chance to play with his hair...hair which surely should earn him a World Heavyweight Title shot." says King with more than a touch of sarcasm. Still, despite hitting his superkick, Landon is more concerned with making a point to the fans than actually going for a victory, being provoked by a section of Justice and Rule fans in the front row. When Maddix eventually does brush them off, Ejiro is already recovering and trying to get back to his feet. Maddix stops, looking down at the former World Champion with a wry smirk, before indicating to the crowd that "It's ov-AH~!" "E - JI - RO!" "E - JI - RO!" "E - JI - RO!" Determination etches on Ejiro's face as he pulls himself up, fists already clenched as he turns around in search of Maddix. Maddix is waiting though and beats Ejiro to the strike, booting him in the gut and applying another 3/4 facelock. Instead of going up or diving forwards this time, Landon suddenly darts towards the corner. With a leap, Maddix springs off the middle rope, his right pushing him off the top and over... ...but Ejiro shrugs him off, to block the Codebreaker. Maddix lands on his feet with little more than a stumble, until a back elbow cracks him in the skull. Another back elbow connects, before Ejiro suddenly grabs his own 3/4 facelock and makes his own break for the corner... ...but Landon pushes him off to counter the Ejirocution, Ejiro crashing sternum first into the turnbuckles! Out staggers the winded Rule, Maddix hurriedly hooking his arms under Ejiro's chin and pulling him down and bringing Ejiro CRASHING down into his elevated knees! "I'm reliably informed, he calls that the Mount Crushmore!" calls Pete. "Obviously, a play on words of his home state, South Dakota, the Mount Rushmore State." "No wrestler or commentator should ever try to use plays on words. Ever." "Well, weird name or not, the move was very effective." Pete says, brushing off King's latest quip. "And it might just earn Landon a win here, as he finally shakes off his arm and makes the cover..." ONE! TWO! TH.. KICKOUT!! "YYYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" As Ejiro's right shoulder flies off the mat, Maddix looks up with a groan, taking up issue with the count with referee Soapdish. Obviously, Soapdish is standing by his call though, so Maddix has to drag himself up and wait for Ejiro -- currently gasping for air and holding his upper back -- to try and pull himself up again. "LAN - DON STINKS!" "LAN - DON STINKS!" "LAN - DON STINKS!" The fans are busy getting on Maddix's case...and, seeing as the majority of the crowd are under the age of 12, the chant is hardly ruthless. The director decides now is the time to point out a "Landon is a Poo Poo Head!" in the crowd. As, in the ring, Ejiro is coming back to his feet and takes another boot to the gut from Maddix. With his arm throbbing, Maddix has to go southpaw as he flings a forearm at Ejiro's ear, followed up with a second and a third that daze Ejiro. Daze, but don't knock down, as he suddenly stands bolt upright and just forearms the buhjeezus out of Maddix! "YYYYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!" Stunned, Maddix stumbles back a series of steps, seeing stars. As he comes to a stop, Maddix shakes it off and tries to come back with a forearm of his own. Suddenly though, Ejiro tumbles forward and catches Maddix first with a spinning heel kick!! Landon tries to throw a hand up to protect himself but can't, getting caught right into the forehead and knocking him for a loop. Diving forward, Ejiro makes a hurried cover... ONE! TWO! T... SHOULDER UP! Ejiro quickly pulls Maddix back to his feet, popping him with a couple more forearms to the face...knocking whatever was remaining of Maddix's bandaid off of his forehead and leaving his stiched up forehead exposed. But Ejiro doesn't notice, too busy taking advantage of the adrenaline flowing through his veins as he whips Maddix into the ropes. Back shoots Maddix, getting tossed overhead with a high BAAACK~! body drop and sent crashing back to earth! "Ejiro's firing up again!" Maddix scrambles to his knees and hurriedly tries to beg off, asking in vain for a timeout as Ejiro advances on him and grabs the bad arm again. Still Landon begs for mercy, getting none as Ejiro wrings the arm, before suddenly shocking Landon with a fujiwara style takedown, trying to apply the Cobra Crossface! Maddix knows it's coming and manages to roll through before he lands. But Ejiro clings on defiantly to the arm, coming up with Maddix and attempting to take him down into the Cobra Crossface again! Again Maddix rolls through, getting to his feet and going to the old stand-by of the eyepoke, again causing Ejiro to clutch his bloodshot eyes. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "Jeez, come on Soapdish, DQ him!" pleads King despite himself. "I'm surprised he hasn't already with these strict Lockdown rules, but evidently not." Fumbling around, Ejiro clearly can't see as he should as Maddix takes a brief breather, preparing to strike again. But, with whatever vision he does have left and hearing Maddix charging towards him, Ejiro is able to shoot out a boot which catches Maddix... Kick! *WHAM!* STUNNER!! "YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" Maddix recoils back, slumping onto his back as Ejiro slumps onto his opponent with a pin... ONE! TWO! TH.. Kickout! "Well, Ejiro came close to catching Landon with an out of nowhere pinfall...but he really needs to go back after the arm now." implores Pete. Up clambers Ejiro, bringing Maddix slowly up by the hair before sending him crashing into the turnbuckles with a forceful irish whip. Maddix slumps into the turnbuckles, as the 2-time World Champion summons some more energy to rush across the ring, diving into Maddix with a Stinger Splash! Out of the buckles staggers Landon, right into Ejiro, who wraps his arms quickly under Landon's armpits and instantly flicks him overhead with a belly to belly suplex! Maddix lands hard and slumps into a prone position, Ejiro taking one glance at La Cucaracha and deciding to scale the ropes and climb towards the top turnbuckle! "Ejiro, taking a risk here." Pete observes. "The first of the match really, which has been fought surprisingly grounded." "Hardly surprising. Peters'll probably fire them if they do something too dangerous." "He must have went to the McMahon school of wrestling ownership, eh?" "Lawsuit~!" Ejiro reaches the top and assesses the distance, before launching himself off the top... ...extended his elbow at the apex of his descent... *WHAM!* ...AND MISSING!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" The crowd jeer Maddix as, having dodged a bullet, he staggers up to his feet with a sparkling smile flashing around the arena. Ejiro is beginning to pull himself up, as Maddix sets, preparing to charge. Up to his feet, Ejiro turns around, just as Maddix dives towards him with his own Stinger Splash... *CLUNK!* ...but Ejiro moves, and Maddix's momentum sends him flying headfirst into the top of the ringpost!!!! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" Maddix stumbles groggily out of the corner, a few of the fans directly facing him turning away in disgust for some reason. Waiting behind Maddix, Ejiro drops to his knees and cradles up Maddix with a schoolboy... ONE! TWO! THRE.... KICKOUT AT 2 AND 7/8s!!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Ejiro and Maddix both scramble to their feet, Landon clearly the more dazed as he meets Ejiro at a vertical base, getting scooped into the air... ...but, suddenly, Landon floats to the side, snaring an inverted front facelock as he lands on Ejiro's shoulder. Ejiro pauses for a moment as he tries to adjust to his situation. Kicking and flailing, Maddix eventually manages to force backwards, pulling down Ejiro to his hands and knees, clamping in the Land Of Nod!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "He got him hooked! From out of nowhere...and, he's got it with his good arm too!" Sitting in on Ejiro's back, Landon leans with all his might, tugging back on Ejiro's neck. Soapdish quickly repositions himself in front of Ejiro, asking him if he wants to give it up. Ejiro defiantly shakes his head no, Soapdish informing Maddix of that fact... *DINGDINGDING!* ...and calling for the bell!?! "What the..." "Ejiro didn't tapout. He must have quit." "No, King, he was shaking his head no." mumbles Pete, as Soapdish goes over to Funyon and starts to explain something to him. Meanwhile, Maddix has slumped forwards, celebrating a proud victory, despite the fact his music hasn't hit yet. "Ladies and gentlemen...here is the referee's official decision. He has STOPPED this match..." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "...due to BLOODLOSS!" Cue mass confusion. "What bloodloss?" Pete asks in bemusement, right before Landon Maddix looks up from his celebrations, revealing blood just pouring out of the re-opened wound on his forehead. "Oh..oh, man, Soapdish stopped the match because Maddix is cut and cut badly." "What is this, 1985?" "Therefore..." continues Funyon. "...in an effort to preserve a family friendly programme, this contest has been ruled a DRAW!!" The crowd suddenly don't know how to react. Usually, they'd be jeering a no decision at the top of their lungs, not least in the main event. But, at the sight of Landon Maddix going completely BESERK in the ring, many start cheering. "Maddix had the Land Of Nod applied, but Soapdish stopped the match, following rules to govern Lockdown. Man, what unfortunate timing." "Did I ever tell you how much I LOVE Joseph Peters?" crows King. "Because I do!" "Well, Landon Maddix is obviously distraught, he thought he had Ejiro beat, but Soapdish was just doing his job. Bad timing or not, Soapdish made the right call. The call that doesn't involve getting fined up to the eyebrows." In the ring, Soapdish continues following the rules and raises the groggy arm of Ejiro Fasaki. Fasaki clearly has heard the call and doesn't seem enamoured with being congratulated on a draw, pulling his arm away and rolling out of the ring. Meanwhile, Soapdish goes over to Maddix. The bloody Next Generation is still sulking away as Soapdish tries to explain his call, before trying to raise Maddix's hand...but he gets SHOVED! to the canvas! Smartly Soapdish gets out of dodge, as Maddix is left in the ring. And with defeat plucked from the jaws of victory, Maddix muses over what could have been... ...dropping to his knees... ...and looking into the crowd, as a single, blood soaked tear rolls down his cheek. Followed, closely, by a whole bunch more. "Frustration for Landon Maddix here and understandably s...wait, is he crying?" "HE'S CRYING!" King beams. "What a pathetic loser! He's bawling his eyes out!" "Well, obviously, this was an important match for Landon Maddix. But, Landon Maddix is a grown man, crying in the middle of the ring here. And this is...well, kinda embarrassing." "This is pathetic. What a drama queen." Maddix continues to sob in the ring, as all around him, fans are coming to their feet, delighting in Maddix's failure and laughing as he continues to cry and cry and cry some more. Looking up, Maddix sniffles...and realises the fans are laughing at him. Causing him to fall onto his back and bawl some more. The laughs only get louder, the tears only getting more noticeable, as Lockdown fades out on a, frankly, rather pathetic scene. Landon Maddix. Crybaby.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem." Funyon steps into the center of the ring and begins to sing. Your love is better than ice cream Better than anything else that I’ve tried And your love is better than ice cream Everyone here know how to fight And it’s a long way down It’s a long way down It’s a long way down to the place Where we started from Your love is better than chocolate Better than anything else that I’ve tried Oh love is better than chocolate Everyone here knows how to cry It’s a long way down It’s a long way down It’s a long way down to the place Where we started from... The Hershey Park Arena bursts into applause as Funyon finishes his stunning rendition of Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream," charming all in attendance as the opening montage fades in.

Pete: “And as family-friendly Lockdown continues, we’re getting ready for a huge title match. Jay Hawke, the SWF’s International Champion, defends against Ghost Machine.” King: “Well, we’ve seen Jay Hawke over the last two weeks coming down and apparently scouting the competition. On Storm, he was at ringside checking out Ghost Machine’s match with JJ Johnson. That added scouting should be the edge he needs to take out Ghost Machine’s programming and retain the title.” Pete: “Ghost Machine was on a roll leading into Ground Zero, getting that huge win over Manson. That match is what put him in line for this shot at the International gold.” King: “And as much as I hate to do this, I’ll give him a little bit of credit. He had a shot against Ejiro Fasaki for the World Title several weeks ago, and he came very close to getting the gold that night. But Jay Hawke just has a knack of getting key victories over key opposition when it looks like his back is against the wall. This one should be very interesting indeed.” Pete: “And with that, let’s go up to Funyon for the introductions of this match.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30 minute time limit, and it is for the SWF International Championship!” “Mr. Roboto” begins to play on the PA. King: “This isn’t his normal music.” Pete: “Joseph Peters figured this was more family-friendly.” King: “I kinda like it.” Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger! Accompanied to the ring by JL Crunk … weighing in at 312 pounds, and hailing from Parts Unknown … GHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST MACHINNNNNNNNNNNE!” Ghost Machine slowly makes his way to the ring, spitting on ringside fans as he slowly walks down the aisle. King: “By the time he gets to the ring, Genesis will be over.” Pete: “You’re exaggerating just a bit, aren’t you?” King: “Hey, he only got this title shot because JL Crunk found a golden ticket inside of a Take 5 bar.” As Longdogger Pete shoots a look at Suicide King that says “What are you smoking, anyway?”, the music changes to familiar strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly”. Funyon: “And his opponent … hailing from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … the reigning and defending SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” As the lights dim and Jay Hawke emerges into the spotlight, the music is being overshadowed by a familiar chant from the crowd: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” The chants continue until Hawke hits the ring, as it’s unlikely Joseph Peters can enforce a $500 fine against each of the 8,000-plus in attendance. As the champion enters the ring, he slowly removes his glittery purple-and-black robe, revealing the International Championship belt to be strapped firmly around his waist. He taps at the belt as the crowd continues to jeer the champion. Pete: “He seems awfully cocky here, King.” King: “Yeah, he does. And he has a right to be. Nearly two full months as the International Champion, and that belt is becoming synonymous with the Dean of Wrestling.” Scott Ryder takes the belt from the champion and holds it over his head as Pete says “Hopefully for him, that cockiness doesn’t come back to haunt him.” Ryder then hands the belt to the timekeeper before asking both wrestlers to shake hands. King: “Oh yuck. Sportsmanship. Can I request that Riley become the full-time Lockdown color analyst?” Pete: “Please no.” With the handshake complete, Scott Ryder turns back toward the timekeeper’s table, pointing a solitary finger toward the ringside table: *DING DING DING!* Pete: “There’s the bell, and this championship contest is underway!” Jay Hawke and Ghost Machine glare at each other, looking into each other’s eyes to see if they can get a sense of what their opponent is planning. Hawke asks for Machine to move forward, and he does. Machine reaches forward to grab the champion, but Hawke deftly moves to his side to avoid his much slower opponent. Hawke smiles, sensing he might have the key to victory. He asks Ghost Machine to move forward again, and again he does, only for Jay Hawke to side step him at the last moment. Hawke smiles and turns toward the crowd. That brief moment of distraction costs him, as Hawke turns around, his face getting walloped by his challenger’s outstretched hand. Pete: “Ghost Machine just leveled Jay Hawke with a tremendous right hand! I think he actually hurt him with that one!” King: “That should be merely a minor inconvenience for the Dean of Professional Wrestling! Nothing to worry about!” Hawke briefly holds his face right around the eye, then turns angrily toward Ghost Machine. Letting his anger get the best of him, Jay Hawke locks up with his much stronger challenger, who uses the power advantage to simply toss the champion down to the mat. Hawke looks up at his opponent with eyes wide as saucers, partly out of shock and partly out of surprise he actually tried to match power with his opponent. Pete: “And this is one thing the champion doesn’t want to have to do. He doesn’t want to try to match power with the challenger.” King: “You know what Jay Hawke’s like. He’s got to have something in particular in mind.” Jay Hawke decides to try to lock up with Ghost Machine again, despite the fact that he has been unable to gain any sort of advantage thus far. This time he grabs Machine’s left arm and twists it, wringing it out to his left side. Hawke then moves in, hooking his right arm underneath Ghost Machine’s left to try and hiptoss his opponent down to the canvas. Machine blocks it, then uses his right arm to grab Hawke by the back of the head and throw him face down to the canvas. Jay Hawke holds his nose in agony, then quickly rolls to the outside of the ring to gather his thoughts. King: “OK, now I’m getting a little bit worried.” Pete: “Jay Hawke can’t seem to figure out how to combat the strength of his much larger challenger, and because of that he’s been unable to sustain any sort of advantage.” Jay Hawke rolls back into the ring. As he stands, Ghost Machine slowly charges forward. Jay Hawke catches him coming in with a hard forearm smash, and the blow seems to stagger his opponent ever-so-slightly. Machine moves forward again, and Hawke blasts him with an ever harder forearm into the masked face of his challenger that sends him reeling. Jay Hawke then bounces off the ropes, but as he charges forward, Ghost Machine leans into him with a shoulder block that sends the challenger down to the mat and rolling out to the floor. Pete: “This is amazing. Every time Jay Hawke gets anything at all going, one move from Ghost Machine turns the momentum completely around!” Jay Hawke heads over to the broadcast table, looking at King and shouting, “This guy’s tough, King. It’s like he’s a machine or something!” King replies with “Every machine has a way of being turned off, you’ll get him,” as Hawke returns to the ring. Pete: “You’re not supposed to be out here giving advice to the wrestlers, King.” King: “What advice? I was merely telling him he can always find a way to win.” Back in the ring, Ghost Machine grabs Jay Hawke and locks him up collar-and-elbow. The challenger pulls down on his more experienced opponent’s head and begins driving a series of knee strikes into the head of the International Champion. The fourth of these strikes knocks Hawke down to the mat, and Ghost Machine immediately falls to the canvas and goes for the pin: ONE! TWO! Kickout. JL Crunk shouts at Ghost Machine to hook the leg next time, and Jay Hawke rolls toward the ropes. Ghost Machine lumbers right behind him, just fast enough to catch the champion with a flurry of punches as he starts making his way to his feet. The challenger follows it up with an elbow that spins the champion around, then he hooks Hawke’s head and neck before snapping him backwards to the canvas. Pete: “Russian legsweep by Ghost Machine, and he’s going for the cover again!” ONE! Ghost Machine hooks the near leg. TWO! Kickout. Pete: “Another kickout, and had Ghost Machine hooked the far leg instead of the near leg, we might have crowned a new champion right there!” King: “But we didn’t crown a new champion right there, Pete! That’s the difference!” This time Jay Hawke is unable to roll away from Ghost Machine. Instead, the machine picks up the champion and whips him into the opposite turnbuckle. Machine charges, but Hawke’s speed advantage comes into play as Hawke side steps the oncoming Machine a split-second before contact, causing the challenger to hit the turnbuckle hard. The challenger staggers backwards, and Hawke quickly runs into the ropes, rebounding and taking his larger opponent down with a hard clothesline. King: “And there was the counter that might have turned this one around, Pete! He waited for the challenger to charge in, and he was simply too fast for the attempted avalanche to work the way it was supposed to!” Jay Hawke approaches his fallen challenger and slaps in a reverse chinlock. Pete: “And this is where the Dean’s conditioning might end up playing a factor. Ghost Machine gets winded more easily than a lot of SWF wrestlers, and a move like this can wear a big man down in short order.” King: “And we saw Jay Hawke go almost 25 minutes at Ground Zero before picking up the victory, so we know he can outlast Ghost Machine if he can stay out of his reach.” Ghost Machine maneuvers his way to his feet. He fires two, three, four elbows into the champion’s stomach, forcing the champion to release his grip. Ghost Machine then runs into the ropes, but Jay Hawke catches him coming back in with a picture-perfect dropkick to the face. Jay Hawke drops down, immediately hooking the far leg: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. JL Crunk slaps the mat to try to rally his charge on, but Jay Hawke begins to work on Machine’s back and neck by driving a series of knees between the shoulder blades. After a fifth knee, he grabs a hold of the Machine’s chin and pulls back with all of his might. King: “And now you’re getting to where Jay Hawke is at his best. He’s going to begin wearing his opponent down for that Wing Span!” Pete: “Can he even get that hold on a man this size?” King: “I don’t know. Arch Griffon wasn’t much smaller than Machine is, and you saw how Jay Hawke wound up doing during that series of matches. But with as many ways to win as Hawke knows, will he even need the Wing Span to pick up the victory?” Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by, 25 minutes remain in the time limit.” Jay Hawke maintains his hold of Ghost Machine’s chin, adding as much force as he can to the hold, the veins in his arms nearly popping out of his skin. Pete: “And as you hear Funyon’s announcement of the time remaining in this contest, I have to think the shortened 30 minute time limit actually favors the challenger.” King: “In a sense, because there’s only so much the match is going to be extended, but it also means Hawke doesn’t have to do as much to simply run the time limit down to retain the championship.” Pete: “Of course, on Lockdown it doesn’t matter who wins and loses.” King: “Tell that to the men in that ring who are risking their bodies to be crowned International Champion.” Jay Hawke releases his grip on the chin, but he drops three more knees into the upper spine of Ghost Machine to keep the pressure on. The champion makes his way to his feet, only to drop right back down with a leg across the back of the neck. Jay Hawke covers, once again hooking the far leg for leverage: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Pete: “Another kickout by Ghost Machine, but he already seems to be gasping for more and more air with every shot he takes from the champion.” Jay Hawke drops an elbow across the upper back of Ghost Machine, then locks in another reverse chinlock. King: “And with Hawke using headlocks on Ghost Machine, he’s going to continue to wear the challenger down. Outside of that opening minute or two where Ghost Machine’s power gave him the decided edge, Jay Hawke has wrestled a brilliant match thus far.” Once again, Ghost Machine uses his power to make his way to his feet. Jay Hawke tries to maintain the pressure on the chinlock, but Ghost Machine picks his opponent up onto his back. The challenger sets himself, seemingly ready to fall backwards to drive his weight on top of his opponent, but Jay Hawke shifts his position just a little bit to lock on a new hold. Pete: “Sleeperhold in the center of the ring!” King: “Jay Hawke has this one hooked in well, and I don’t care how big you are! If you get locked in this hold, you’re going to go down faster than Heidi Fleiss…” Pete: “Family-friendly.” King: “Faster than prices during a Best Buy clearance sale.” Pete: “That’s better.” The hold has the challenger dropping to one knee with his sizable arms beginning to go limp at his sides. The Dean of Professional Wrestling tightens his grip, and Scott Ryder puts his hand underneath Hawke’s arm to make sure it isn’t a chokehold. Pete: “The challenger’s fading, King!” King: “Exactly! Just as I predicted all along!” Ghost Machine summons up whatever strength he can muster to regain his footing. Before he can even think and possibly talk himself out of it, Ghost Machine falls backwards, driving all of his body weight on top of Jay Hawke with full force. Hawke releases the hold, his shoulders hitting the mat. Scott Ryder quickly slides down to the mat: ONE! TWO! TH -- kickout. Pete: “Only a count of two, and Ghost Machine once again came less than a second away from winning his first championship here in the SWF!” King: “Maybe so, but after as long as he was trapped in that hold, I’m not sure he’s aware enough of his surroundings to follow it up!” Ghost Machine, still groggy after nearly a minute in the sleeper, slowly makes his way to his feet. Jay Hawke is to his feet a second later, and the Machine drives a chop into Hawke’s throat. He follows it up with a couple of hard right hands, then another throat chop that backs the champion against the ropes. Machine charges, getting as much momentum as he can. He clotheslines Jay Hawke, who takes a tumble over the top rope and down to the arena floor in front of the broadcast table. Pete: “Tremendous clothesline by Ghost Machine there, and he’s got the champion reeling!” King: “Hawke should just take the countout here and be done with it. Walk out of here with the title and fight another day.” As Scott Ryder begins exercising his ten count, Jay Hawke grabs a bottle of water off the broadcast table. “Hey, that’s mine!” shouts Pete as Hawke takes a quick sip. The Dean of Professional Wrestling then slides into the ring with the open bottle of Dasani, and he begins throwing the water at Ghost Machine’s shoulders. Pete: “What does he think he’s doing?” King: “I think … is he trying to short circuit Ghost Machine?” All of Ghost Machine’s circuits are still operational, but the water attack has JL Crunk hopping up onto the ring apron, begging Scott Ryder to disqualify Jay Hawke. With the referee distracted, Jay Hawke drops to his knees and lifts an arm between Ghost Machine’s legs…. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Pete: “Low blow! Jay Hawke resorting to a low blow to take Ghost Machine down!” King: “Whatever works! Do whatever you can to retain the championship!” Jay Hawke drops to the mat and wraps his hands around Ghost Machine’s throat, trying to cut the flow of oxygen away from the lungs. JL Crunk physically spins Scott Ryder around until he sees the choke, and the rookie referee moves in to start his disqualification count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Jay Hawke releases the hold, but he immediately stomps Ghost Machine in the head before dropping down for the cover: ONE! TWO! TH -- kickout. Pete: “Only a count of two for the champion there, and Hawke locks in a front facelock on his fallen challenger!” King: “But there’s a subtle move there by Jay Hawke that would normally go unnoticed! Technically, had he covered after a choke, Ryder wouldn’t have been able to count the pin! So the Dean adds a legal stomp, and that makes it a legal cover!” Pete: “And to top it off, he goes back to another headlock, once again trying to cut the air away from his already winded challenger.” King: “And no amount of cheering from JL Crunk is going to help Ghost Machine here! We could very well be on our way to the end of this championship match.” Not if Ghost Machine has anything to say about that. Though clearly fatigued from the strategy the champion has been using, the challenger still summons up enough strength to get to one knee. Jay Hawke tries to tighten the grip and possibly add a chokehold, but his challenger makes his way to his feet. Ghost Machine lifts Jay Hawke into the air and tries to throw him, but Jay Hawke kicks his legs in the air, hangs on to his opponent’s head, and drives him down to the mat with a thunderous DDT that bounces the challenger’s head three inches off the mat. Pete: “What a tremendous DDT! This one could be all over!” King: “I think it is all over! Jay Hawke’s going for the pin right here!” ONE! TWO! THRE -- Ghost Machine gets a foot on the bottom rope. Jay Hawke stands up, celebrating with both arms in the air at what he thinks is a clear three count, but Scott Ryder pulls the arms down. Hawke just looks at Ryder incredulously as Ryder pantomimes what happened to keep the match going. King: “And this is very unlike Jay Hawke!” Funyon: “Ten minutes have gone by, 20 minutes remain in the time limit!” Pete: “You’re right. I’ve never seen him celebrate before hearing the final bell!” As the champion argues with the referee, Ghost Machine gets to his feet unbeknownst to Jay Hawke. The champion turns around, right into the arms of the challenger. Ghost Machine briefly squeezes Jay Hawke with a crushing bear hug, then spins around, driving his opponent to the mat. Pete: “Belly-to-belly suplex! Arguing with the referee proves costly for the champion!” Ghost Machine goes for the pin, and for the first time tonight, he’s got the far leg grapevined … and the crowd counting right along with Scott Ryder: ONE! TWO! Kickout! “OHHHHHHHHHH!” Pete: “But not enough to put the champion away!” Ghost Machine slowly makes his way to his feet, but he quickly doubles over, putting his hands on his knees. Pete: “And the challenger is clearly fatigued here!” King: “Well, the longest match he’s been in was around 12 minutes or so, and we’re nearly at that point now. He might not have enough left in him to put Hawke away.” Ghost Machine summons enough energy to run into the ropes. Hawke makes it to his feet, only to get taken right back down by a double-ax handle with 312 pounds of force behind it. Pete shouts, “Maybe he does! Cover him!” Sure enough, the challenger does cover him: ONE! TWO! THR -- shoulder up! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Pete: “And that was even closer!” King: “Jay Hawke might have underestimated his opponent! That’s all I can think of!” Ghost Machine gets to his feet, more lethargic than ever before, but he has enough sense to pull the champion to his feet. Ghost Machine sends Jay Hawke hard into the opposite turnbuckle with an Irish whip. Ghost Machine then takes a couple of steps backwards towards the opposite corner. He charges forward… CLANG! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …but runs into nothing but turnbuckle, as Hawke gets out of the way a fraction of a second before impact. Thinking quickly, he hooks his challenger’s head into a reverse chancery, then drops him down, driving the back of his larger opponent’s head onto his knee. Hawke quickly puts on a lateral press and covers: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout! Pete: “And again only the count of two! No matter what Jay Hawke attempts to do, he can’t bring Ghost Machine down for the final three count!” Jay Hawke pulls Ghost Machine to his feet, hooks in a front facelock, then spins the challenger around so he drops onto the back of his head. Pete: “Swinging neck breaker, and Jay Hawke goes down for another cover.” ONE! King: “He’s got him for sure this time!” TWO! THR -- kickout. Pete: “No! Either out of sheer instinct or sheer determination, Ghost Machine kicks out!” King: “Or sheer stupidity! I can’t believe he’s still in the match!” Jay Hawke places three well-placed knees into the ribs of his challenger, further trying to wind his already heavily-lumbering opponent. He follows it up with an elbow into the back of the neck, and the masked challenger crumbles to the canvas. Jay Hawke, sensing victory, figures one big move will be enough to get the final pinfall. He steps between the ropes onto the ring apron, waiting for his opponent to get to his feet. Pete: “Jay Hawke could be taking a big chance here! He could be on his way to losing his championship once and for all by waiting this long!” King: “You know Jay Hawke, Pete! He’s always got a plan!” As the challenger finally gets to his feet, Jay Hawke leaps, using the top rope as a springboard and catching his opponent underneath the chin with a stiff lariat. Ghost Machine’s neck snaps back as he falls to the canvas, and “had Hawke hit that move any harder, we would have proven whether Ghost Machine has veins or wires underneath that head of his,” claims Suicide King. Jay Hawke covers, hooking the far leg: ONE! TWO! THRE -- Kickout! Pete: “Another kickout by Ghost Machine! Where is he coming up with the energy to kick out?” King: “He’s obviously got some backup power somewhere!” The champion, becoming increasingly frustrated, slams his hand on the mat. Obviously, it’s going to take one more move to put his opponent away. Jay Hawke climbs up to the middle turnbuckle on the inside of the ring, once again waiting for his fatigued challenger to get to his feet. As the Machine does, Jay Hawke leaps, doing a front flip as he reaches for his opponent’s neck… THUD! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …but landing on nothing but canvas, as Ghost Machine ducks out of the way just in the nick of time! Pete: “He missed! Jay Hawke going for that blockbuster neck breaker, but Ghost Machine moved out of the way!” King: “He passed out! What do you mean he moved out of the way?” JL Crunk immediately begins pounding on the ring apron, as he feels this might be Ghost Machine’s final opportunity to get the championship! “FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!” The words of encouragement seem to revitalize the challenger, who makes his way to his feet. Jay Hawke pulls himself to his knees, and Ghost Machine is right there to drive a knee into the ribs, then another into the face. The champion tries to roll away and stand, but Ghost Machine moves in and drives another knee into the midsection to double Hawke over. Pete: “A series of hard knees, and…he’s going for it all here, King!” King: “He’s setting him up for a piledriver!” Knowing that if the piledriver connects, he can kiss the title goodbye, Jay Hawke immediately plants his right foot behind him. That simple move is enough to widen his base and avoid being lifted by Ghost Machine. Ghost Machine drives a series of forearms into the champion’s back, then summons up some extra energy from the reserve tanks to lift Hawke in the air. The champion keeps kicking his legs, then hooks them around Ghost Machine’s head, turning a potential piledriver into a triangle choke. King: “What an incredible counter!” Pete: “Indeed! Hawke’s still in an awkward position here, but he’s got all the pressure around Ghost Machine’s carotid artery!” JL Crunk feverishly pounds on the ring apron as Ghost Machine struggles for every bit of oxygen he can possibly suck into his lungs. With his lights going out, Ghost Machine makes one last ditch effort to lift Jay Hawke and drop him down, but Hawke tightens his grip on the head scissors as Ghost Machine drops to one knee. King: “He’s fading!” Pete: “I’m not sure he can get out of it!” It doesn’t appear so, as Ghost Machine falls forward, the champion still maintaining his grip on the hold. Funyon: “Fifteen minutes have gone by, 15 minutes remain in the time limit!” Pete: “Halfway through the time limit here, and I think Ghost Machine is out cold!” Scott Ryder moves in and, after checking Hawke’s shoulders to make sure they’re completely off the canvas, reaches for the challenger’s arm. He lifts it… …it falls. He lifts it… …it falls. He lifts it… … …it falls. *DING DING DING!* King: “He did it!” Pete: “Somehow, someway, Jay Hawke has found a way to once again retain the title!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 15 minutes, 22 seconds … your winner of this contest … and STILL the reigning SWF International Champion …JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWKE!” Scott Ryder receives the championship belt from the timekeeper, then hands it to Jay Hawke, who clutches onto it like a child hanging on to his favorite teddy bear for dear life. Scott Ryder raises Hawke’s hand in the air as the crowd boos. King: “What an impressive showing Jay Hawke! Ghost Machine is unlike any competitor Jay Hawke has ever faced here in the SWF, and he came out of here with an absolutely tremendous victory!” Pete: “Ghost Machine gave it everything he had, but it came down to conditioning!” King: “Exactly! Hawke wore Ghost Machine down in the early going, and a man that size simply can’t continue going at the pace he was going for that length of time!” Jay Hawke, still holding on to his title belt, rolls out of the ring and heads to the locker room. King: “And I’ll give him credit Pete. That was the longest match of his SWF career! He simply ran out of gas!” Pete: “One big move just a little bit sooner, and this could have been a much different result.” Ghost Machine, finally somewhat conscious, makes his way to his feet as JL Crunk enters the ring to check on his charge. As he stands, Scott Ryder raises his hand into the air… King: “What is this?” …and the crowd applauds. Pete: “This crowd appreciates the effort the challenger gave tonight, King!” King: “It was a valiant effort, but the bottom line is that even on family-friendly Lockdown, you can’t become a champion without winning the match.” Pete: “But Ghost Machine took a huge step forward in his SWF career here tonight. Still to come, the fantastic main event featuring Ejiro Fasaki and Landon Maddix! Don’t go away!” FADE TO COMMERCIAL

FADE IN “Welcome back to Lockdown,” says Longdogger Pete. “We’re about ready for our next match, which will see the newcomer Nick Blum go one-on-one against the Wildchild. And King, both of these young men are looking to get back on track with a win here tonight!” “And I have to say that all of the pressure in this match is on the Wildchild,” chimes the Suicide King. “He suffered a demoralizing defeat at the hands of El Luchadore Magnifico, where he did everything but guarantee a win, and came up short. If he loses here tonight, it could be a setback that takes him weeks to recover from!” “I’m not prepared to go there,” replies Pete. “Wildchild has proven that he can press anybody to the limit. He’s a threat to beat anybody in the fed at any time! But I will say that I’m inclined to question his level of intensity coming into this match.” “Well, if he comes into this match with less than full intensity, he’s going to end up on the losing end of this match,” offers King. “This kid Blum made a good showing last week on Storm, as well as at Ground Zero, and he’s going to be incredibly hungry for a win tonight!” “Just as long as he doesn’t suffer from overconfidence,” counters Pete. “Many men have made the mistake of taking Wildchild lightly. Nick Blum is a little out of the Cruiserweight limit, so he’s sure to be more interested in some of the other titles, but Dub Cee isn’t someone you want to look past, King! We’ll find out if he is prepared to give it his all tonight, as we go to the ring and the irrepressible Funyon!” The SWF’s impeccably dressed announcer stands in the center of the ring, having changed during the break into a white tuxedo with a gold bow tie, and matching wingtips. Raising the microphone to his lips, he says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a ten-minute time limit, and it will be contested under Cruiserweight Rules!” RAAAAAAAAAAH! With that, the camera directs viewers towards the top of the SmarkTron to the Hitlist, standing on top of it. Blum secures the harness around his waist before plunging from the top of the SmarkTron down to the stage. The fans cheer as he removes the harness and makes his way down to the ring, determination evident in his eyes. “Look into those eyes,” says King, noting the intense expression on Blum’s face. “That doesn’t look like somebody who’s looking past his opponent; that looks like somebody’s who’s about to run THROUGH their opponent!” “Introducing first,” says Funyon, “making his way to the ring at this time… From Harrisburg, North Carolina, and weighing two hundred thirty-five pounds… the Hitlist, NIIIIICK BLUM!” Blum makes his way to the edge of the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope to enter the ring. “You don’t get any more focused than that,” states King. “I don’t see how you can possibly have any doubt about Nick Blum here tonight!” “The kid’s focus is indeed remarkable, no doubt about that,” replies Pete. “He probably realizes that he can catch the express train to the top of the SWF with a big win here tonight!” As Blum leans back against the turnbuckles, the enthusiastic Pennsylvania fans begin cheering wildly as the arena lights dim and fade to black: ATTENTION! ALL YOU NIGGAZ! ALL YOU BITCHES! TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE… TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA… Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” whips the fans into a frenzy as the Caribbean Cruiser bounds onto the stage! In between the alternating flash of the white-hot spotlight, the Bahama Bomber can be seen holding his title overhead inciting the fans to cheer ever louder, before jogging down the ramp, slapping hands with fans at ringside as he makes a beeline for the ring. “His opponent,” says Funyon, as Wildchild somersaults into the ring, “from the Bahamas, weighing two hundred fourteen pounds, he is one-half the SWF World Tag Team Champions… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild rolls gracefully to his feet and glances sideways towards Blum before walking confidently over to the edge of the ring, where he leaps onto the middle turnbuckle and holds his arms high overhead as Reggie Noble screams: I CAN’T GET IN DA CLUUUUUUB! “There’s no shortage of confidence in the Wildchild,” notes LDP, as Funyon exits the ring. “You’d never be able to tell that he’s coming off a big loss!” Wildchild climbs down from the ropes and then surrenders his title to referee Ronald “Red” Herrington. Wildchild and Blum shake hands as Herrington walks over to the edge of the ring and delivers the tag title belt to Funyon, and then orders the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match. DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone,” shouts Pete. “And we’re underway!” Wildchild and Blum immediately approach each other and engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Blum muscles Wildchild towards the edge of the ring and into the ropes. The referee demands a clean break, and Blum acquiesces, backing away towards the center of the ring. Wildchild approaches him once more, and as Blum steps towards him, shifts to the side, grabbing his opponent by the wrist and whipping him towards the edge of the ring, but the Hitlist quickly reverses, sending the Wildchild into the ropes instead… WHACK! … And leaping into the air as Wildchild rebounds, whipping his lower body around sharply to smack him in the face with a spinning wheel kick! Blum returns quickly to his feet and simply glares at Wildchild, who uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. “Credit Nick Blum for getting the better of Wildchild on that exchange,” says King. Nick and Wildchild meet in the center of the ring yet again, locking into another collar-and-elbow tie-up, this time with Wildchild managing to trap the rookie in a side headlock. Blum leads Wildchild back against the ropes and then pushes him off, launching him across the ring, and leveling him with a standing shoulderblock as he bounces off the ropes. “That may actually be the best strategy for Nick Blum,” remarks Pete. “Make the most of his weight and strength advantage.” Wildchild remains on the mat as Blum bounces off the ropes again and runs over the top of him. He springs to his feet as Nick rebounds a second time and immediately leaps into the air and over the top of the Hitlist as he runs underneath back across the ring… SMACK! … And springs without hesitation back off of the canvas, flipping backwards as Blum rebounds a third time and blasting him squarely in the chest with a backflip kick! Wildchild rolls back to his feet at once and runs over to Blum, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him across the ring, but the Hitlist easily reverses again, sending Wildchild into the ropes. Nick turns to the side and scoops Wildchild up off of the mat as he rebounds, but the Human Hurricane continues to swing his lower body up towards the Hitlist’s head, wrapping his legs around Nick’s neck and jerking him off of his feet, flipping him forward and to the mat with a dynamic headscissors takeover! “Nick Blum appeared to be looking for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker on that exchange,” says Pete, “but Wildchild reversed it into a headscissors takeover, and now he’s got the rookie reeling!” “Well, Nick Blum has never dealt with someone quite as fast as Wildchild before,” adds King. “He’s accustomed to being the smallest and the fastest man in the match, and he’s not used to competing against opponents that are smaller and faster than he is, but I just have a feeling that he’s going to be able to wear Wildchild down tonight!” Wildchild waits for Blum to get to his feet before running towards the edge of the ring, leaping onto the top rope and springing back towards his opponent, landing in a seated position on Nick’s shoulders. Before the Caribbean Cruiser can wrap his legs around the rookie’s head, Nick pushes him off forcefully, and he flips backwards gracefully down to the canvas… WHACK! … But the Hitlist rolls forward suddenly, slashing his heel through the air and blasting Wildchild on the top of the head with a rolling Koppou Kick that sends him tumbling out of the ring and down to the arena floor! “Amazing Koppou Kick to counter that Hurricanrana attempt!” shouts Pete. “Nick Blum showing tremendous ring presence so far in this match!” Nick steps out onto the ring apron and turns to face the inside of the ring as Wildchild gets back to his feet, before hopping onto the bottom rope and flipping backwards out onto the arena floor… SPLASH! … Crashing into the Tropical Tumbler with a picture-perfect Asai moonsault! Blum pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to the edge of the ring, rolling him underneath the bottom rope back into the ring, before using the ropes to pull himself back onto the ring apron. Upon standing up, he grips the top rope with both hands before using it to sling himself into the ring… SPLASH! … Landing on top of Wildchild with a slingshot Senton splash! He leans backwards, holding Wildchild’s upper body to the canvas with his own as the referee dives into position to assess the three count: ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! “Wildchild able to kick out from that half-hearted cover at two,” notes Pete, “but Nick Blum is wasting no time trying to win this match; he’s being very aggressive here tonight!” “As well he should be,” agrees King. “This match has a ten-minute time limit; he can’t afford to waste time. Besides, you don’t want to give Wildchild enough time to react to your game plan; the best strategy against him is to hit him hard, fast and often! Don’t give this guy even a second to catch his breath, because he’s so fast, he can string together a sequence of moves before you know what hit you!” Blum pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, and lowering his head as Wildchild rebounds to lift him into the air with a backdrop, but the Bahama Bomber flips all the way through and lands on his feet behind the rookie. Wildchild runs to the edge of the ring, but Nick cartwheels in the center of the ring as he bounces off the ropes… SPLASH! … Springing into the air suddenly and twisting around crashing into the Caribbean Cruiser with a cartwheel body press! “Cartwheel into a high cross body!” exclaims Pete, as Herrington dives into position. “Tremendous agility by the rookie; I didn’t even know he had that move in his arsenal! That was incredible!” ONE! TWO! THRE— NO! Wildchild kicks out from the pinfall attempt, but not without considerable effort. From outside the ring, Funyon raises the microphone to his lips and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, five minutes have gone by in this match! There are five minutes remaining. FIVE minutes!” “Did you hear that?” asks LDP. “Only five minutes left! Nick Blum had better kick this into high gear!” “I wouldn’t worry about Blum,” replies King nonchalantly. “He appears to have this match well in hand!” Blum pulls Wildchild up to his feet and then ducks down, positioning his head between the Caribbean Cruiser’s legs before lifting him up overhead, dangling him down over his back. The crowd begins to cheer in anticipation of Blum’s offense. “Looks like we could see a Yebeishi Drop coming up here!” notes Pete. But before Nick can secure his grip on Wildchild’s legs, the Tropical Tumbler wraps his arms tightly around the rookie's waist and tips his legs backwards, trying to take him over in a Sunset Flip, but the Hitlist hangs onto the ropes! As the referee asks Blum to release the ropes, Wildchild takes advantage of the distraction to get away from his opponent and run across the ring. Nick turns around in time to see the Wildchild rebounding off the ropes and lowers his head to allow Wildchild to leapfrog him, but the Bahama Bomber appears to stop himself in mid-flight, landing on Nick’s back and hooking his legs underneath the Hitlist’s arms. Before Blum can figure out what’s going on… WHAM! … Wildchild jerks his body towards the canvas, wrapping his arms around Blum’s waist as he rips him through the air, planting him into the mat with a Code Red Powerbomb! “Code Red!” shouts Pete, as Wildchild flops backwards onto the canvas. “But he can’t hold him for the pin! Nick Blum’s early offense must have worn him out!” The Caribbean Cruiser finally pulls himself up off of the mat and leans forward to press Nick’s shoulders against the mat as the referee dives into position to count the pinfall: ONE! TWO! THR— “Kickout!” shouts King. “Wildchild hasn’t done enough damage to take him out!” Wildchild rolls away from Blum, and then returns to his feet. He runs towards the rookie as he gets to his feet and leaps into the air… WHAM! … But Nick catches him in midair and spins him around, driving him down onto his knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! “And there’s the tilt-a-whirl backbreaker he was looking for earlier!” cries LDP. “He got him that time!” “Wildchild is down and out,” adds King, as Blum heads over to the corner. “But what the hell is Blum doing?” Nick steps out onto the ring apron and grabs onto the top rope. Without a word, he leaps onto the top rope and spins around before he flips forward into the ring, directing the point of his elbow towards Wildchild’s throat… CRASH! … But the Bahama Bomber rolls into the corner, and Blum hits nothing but canvas as he crashes down! “Oh my!” cries Pete. “Nick Blum went for the proverbial home run with that 180 elbow smash, but he appeared to have tried that move prematurely!” “Absolutely,” agrees King, as Wildchild uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. “This is the time when you want to rub Wildchild’s face into the mat, and continue to wear him down; there was no need to try to go for the ‘home run,’ as you put it, in that circumstance! Now he’s given Wildchild a little bit of breathing room… and we both know that a little bit is all that Wildchild needs to turn the tables on a match!” Wildchild pulls Blum to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle! Before the rookie can even stagger out of the corner, the Human Hurricane launches himself forward with breakneck speed, leaping into the air as he draws near the corner and twisting his body around… SPLASH! … Crashing into the Hitlist with his patented Blue Crush body splash! “Blue Crush,” shouts Pete. “That move drives all of the air right out of you! That could be the break that Wildchild needs to take over this match!” Wildchild races towards the edge of the ring as Blum staggers out of the corner, and leaps into the air as he bounces off the ropes… WHAM! … But Nick runs underneath him and grabs him by the waist, spinning around in one fluid motion and slamming the Bahama Bomber into the canvas with his patented spinning Spinebuster! OOOOOOOOOOH! “Spinning Spinebuster!” screams LDP as the crowd cheers emphatically. “He hit that out of NOWHERE!” “So much for Wildchild taking over this match,” chortles King, as Blum drops to one knee, shaking his head vigorously to clear the cobwebs. He stands up and pulls Wildchild to his feet, moving behind him and wrapping his arms around Wildchild’s waist before lifting him up… WHAM! … And dropping him backwards to the mat with a German Suplex! He maintains his bridge for a pinfall, as Herrington begins the count: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! “Good grief, was that close!” sighs Pete, as Wildchild barely rolls his shoulder off of the canvas in time. Nick gets to his feet and drags Wildchild over towards the corner, positioning him parallel to the ringpost before climbing up to the top turnbuckle. The fans rise to their feet in nervous anticipation as Nick looks out into the crowd. “What do you suppose he’s going to do from here,” wonders Pete. Nick turns around and then leaps fearlessly off the top turnbuckle; rotating his body four hundred and fifty degrees… SPLASH! … And crashing into Wildchild’s chest with his patented 450º Splash! “Firebird Splash!” exclaims King. “That’s gonna do it; we’re going to Upset City!” The crowd counts along with the referee as his hand slaps against the canvas: ONE! TWO! THREE! “Not yet,” shouts Pete, as Herrington stops his count just short of three. “Wildchild got his foot underneath the bottom rope!” “He lucked out there!” growls King, as Blum looks up at the referee, frustration etched all over his face. “There was no way he was going to kick out of that!” “Still, give credit to Wildchild for good ring awareness,” says Pete. “He knew exactly where he was in relation to the ropes, and that enabled him to hang on, if only for a few moments longer!” “Ridiculous,” argues King, as Blum returns to his feet. “That was sheer instinct! Wildchild’s not smart enough to be that calculating!” “Why King,” mocks Pete, “you sound like you have a rooting interest in this match… Surely an unbiased professional like yourself wouldn’t be taking sides, would you?” “Ladies and gentlemen,” interrupts Funyon, “seven minutes have gone by in this match! There are three minutes remaining. THREE minutes!” “Only three minutes left,” cries Pete. “Can Wildchild hold on?” Nick pulls Wildchild to his feet and pushes him against the ropes… SMACK! WHOO! … Before rearing his harm back and slicing it into the Bahaman’s chest with a reverse knife-edge chop! SMACK! WHOO! SMACK! WHOO! SMACK! WHOO! Blum chops into the Bahama Bomber a few more times before grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him across the ring. The Hitlist grabs Wildchild as he bounce off the ropes and lifts him up into a bearhug… WHAM! … Before driving him down onto his knee with an inverted Atomic Drop! As Wildchild bends clutches his lower body in pain, Blum runs back towards the ropes, and launches himself back towards Wildchild with surprising speed, his arm extended to deliver a fierce running clothesline… CRACK! … But as quick as Nick Blum is, Wildchild is even quicker, and he ducks the clothesline attempt, slashing his leg up as the rookie spins around to blast him in the mouth with a shuffling sidekick! “Sidekick!” shrieks Pete. “Wildchild still had enough left in the tank to duck that clothesline, and hit the sidekick on Blum!” As Blum staggers backwards from the force of the kick, Wildchild races towards the ropes, leaping onto the top rope and curling into a ball as he springs off… WHAM! … Smashing into the Hitlist’s chest with his patented Pinball attack! Both men lie motionless on the canvas as the referee begins his count: ONE! TWO! THREE! “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “eight minutes have gone by in this match! There are two minutes remaining. TWO minutes!” “Oh my goodness!” shouts Pete. “This match is going down to the wire! There’s not much time left for one of these two to come away with the victory!” SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! At the count of nine, Nick sits up to the cheers of the crowd. He rolls over onto his knees and crawls over to the Wildchild, who still hasn’t moved, and collapses on top of his chest. Herrington dives down to the mat and counts the pin: ONE! TWO! THREE— NO! “My Gawd!” sighs LDP. “Wildchild kicked out! He will not stay down!” “Blum had better stop screwing around and put him away,” adds King. “He’s running out of time!” Blum pulls Wildchild to his feet and goes behind him to apply a waistlock. He lifts him up off of the canvas to deliver a strong backdrop suplex, but the Human Hurricane rolls through, flipping off of Blum’s shoulders and landing behind him. The Bahaman runs past the Hitlist to hit the ropes, and leaps into the air as he rebounds, whipping his leg sharply through the air to deliver a leg lariat, but Nick ducks down at the last second to avoid him. WHAM! Blum races towards the ropes as Wildchild gets back to his feet and grabs him by the hair as he rebounds, driving him into the mat with a bulldog face-slam! “Ladies and gentlemen,” shouts Funyon, “nine minutes have gone by in this match! There is one minute remaining. ONE MINUTE!” Blum gets to his feet as Wildchild rolls over onto his stomach and runs towards the edge of the ring. He leaps onto the middle rope and springs backwards…. SPLASH! … Flipping through the air before crashing into Wildchild’s back with a textbook Quebrada! He rolls the Wildchild onto his back and hooks the leg as the referee drops down to count the shoulders: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! “Kickout,” shrieks Pete. “And Blum’s time is running out!” Nick pulls Wildchild to his feet and pushes him back into the corner. He grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, sending the rookie crashing into the turnbuckles instead. Wildchild races into that same corner and leaps into the air, twisting around before crashing into his opponent… CRASH! … But this time, the Hitlist dives out of the way, causing Wildchild to crash into the turnbuckle pad! As the Bahama Bomber staggers out of the corner, Nick kicks him in the midsection to stun him, and then traps his head and arm… WHAM! … Before falling back towards the canvas, crushing Wildchild’s face into the mat with the Complete Shot! “Nick Blum scores with the Complete Shot!” shrieks LDP. “But, can he capitalize on it in time!” Blum rolls Wildchild onto his back and races towards the edge of the ring. “Looks like he’s going to try for that elbow again!” croaks King. Nick once again leaps onto the top ropes, spinning around before he springs into the ring, and measures Wildchild’s throat as he recklessly comes in for a landing… WHAM! … And pulverizes Wildchild’s throat with his 180 elbow smash! “He hit it!” shouts King. “That’s it! It’s over!” Nick hesitates just a fraction of a second to ensure that Wildchild can’t reach the ropes before hooking his legs for the cover. Red Herrington immediately dives into position to count the pin, and the crowd counts along with him: ONE! TWO! THREEEEE— DING! DING! DING! The crowd erupts as Blum rolls off of Wildchild in relief. “He’s done it!” exclaims King. “What a major upset here in Hershey!” Everybody in the Hersheypark Arena appears to be celebrating except for the referee, who looks outside the ring with a bewildered look on his face. “Wait a minute, King,” says Pete, as the referee walks over to the edge of the ring. “I think there may be something wrong here!” Blum climbs onto the middle turnbuckle, his arms raised above his head in triumph as the referee leans outside the ring, conferring with Funyon. “That settles it!” crows King. “I told you, Drain-Clogger! I told you that Wildchild was going to lose today!” Nick climbs down from the turnbuckle and the Bahama Bomber finally begins to recover, and walks over to the referee to have his hand raised but he is suddenly stopped by the sound of Funyon’s voice: “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “before the referee counted three, the time limit had expired…” BOOOOOOOOO! The crowd becomes incensed as the announcer continues, “There was no pin… I repeat, No Pin! The referee has officially ruled this contest… a DRAW!” “What an unfortunate break for young Nick Blum!” sighs Pete, as the crowd continues to emphatically voice their displeasure. As Funyon begins to make his way back to his seat, Nick Blum walks over to the edge of the ring and demands the microphone from him. “What do you suppose the kid has to say?” ponders LDP, as Nick grabs hold of the microphone. “Hey!” shouts Nick. “I didn’t come here to Hershey, Pennsylvania, just to go home with a tie! I came here to win… and I want… FIVE! MORE! MINUTES!” The fans erupt at Nick’s suggestion, and begin to chant their agreement: LET THEM FIGHT! LET THEM FIGHT! LET THEM FIGHT! LET THEM FIGHT! “Nick Blum wants a chance to let the match end on a definitive note,” says Pete. “But referee Red Herrington’s not going for it!” “Wildchild can count his blessings that this is live television, and that we have to follow a programming schedule!” gripes King. “There’s no way that he could have gone to a sudden death against Nick Blum!” “Disappointing outcome for the rookie,” agrees Pete. “But what an impressive showing by Nick Blum! He took Wildchild to the limit, and if it weren’t for the time limit, he would have come away victorious here tonight! Hopefully the Championship Committee took notice, and we’ll see Nick Blum getting a shot at some gold in the very near future! Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen; we’ve got lots more family fun on Lockdown, right after this!” Red Herrington raises both wrestlers arms after the match, with Nick Blum looking understandably peeved… As we: FADE OUT

SWF Lockdown returns from a commercial break and…HEY, LOOK! It’s a giant Hershey’s Kiss! Aww, he’s in the crowd signing autographs for the kids! Isn’t that cute? Hey…there is Manson! He’s come out to sign autographs with the giant Hershey’s Kiss! Aww…what a nice guy; signing autographs for kids with…Oh God…he just knocked the Hershey’s Kiss to the ground…Oh God, there is a fight going on in the crowd! Little kids are screaming and a particular little girl is crying her poor eyes out…Oh God, somebody get out here and stop this! For the love of…THIS IS A FAMILY SHOW! I can’t believe Manson got into another fistfight with an oversized chocolate…jeez…CUT TO THE ANNOUNCERS ALREADY! “We are back in Hershey, Pennsylvania at Hershey Park,” welcomes Longdogger Pete, “We are live with SWF Lockdown!” “I just got word from the back that our sponsors have seen a fight break between an SWF superstar and a Hershey’s mascot…we are in trouble now…” the Suicide King takes a second to tap his chin as if an idea has come to him, “Unless…WE BRAIN WASH ALL THE VIEWERS! They’ll never know it happened!” A skeptical Pete gives King a jarring look and retorts with, “Looks like another fine for the SWF.” “No! This could work! Let me just find my ‘ Brain Washing for Dummies ’ book!” “Too late! A match is about to take place!” Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then… *BAM* The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black “It Dies Today” hoodie, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee (“This entrance music is going to cost Spike at least five hundred dollars!”). After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand (as always) and ready to get the show on the road. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and has a twenty minute time limit! First, making his way to the ring! Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty Pounds! Hailing from Hollywood, California!! He is ‘HOLLLLLLLYYYYWOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDD’ SPIIIIIIIIIIIIKE JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!” Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. “Joseph Peters LOVES Spike Jenkins on Lockdown! Promoting his Straight Edge ways of being drug and alcohol free!” claims Pete. “Considering how big of a pot-head Spike Jenkins was before…” starts King, who gets cut off by Pete, “You can’t say that on Lockdown! The most we can is drugs!” “Oh, come on, Pete. It’s not like I said doing pot was cool!” At that moment, an official from the back pops up next to King and hands him an envelope. King, anxiously, opens the envelope…but the grin on his face turns sour as he reads aloud, “Fined Three Hundred Dollars…” “Remember kids,” starts of Pete, “To be cool, you have to stay in school!” “Make Me Bad” hits, the signature red and white sparks spraying skywards (and earthwards) as smoke seeps out of the stage, gathering around the curtain. The guitars hit, and they have the sight of a silhouette, highlighted by the sparks in the smoke, before Johnson emerges, his head down as the fans begin another unique chant. ”And his opponent!” booms Funyon, “Making his way to the ring! Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Nineteen Pounds! Hailing from Windsor, Ontario, Canada! He is J-AAAAAAY J-AAAAAAAY JOHNNNNNNNNNNSONNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!” Johnson reaches the steps, throwing his hood back and striding up the steps. Johnson enters the ring and climbs up to the second ropes, holding his hands victoriously in the air. Both men enter the center of the ring where referee Meso Hornay asks them to complete the rules set forth for Family Friendly Lockdown ©, and asking both men to shake hands. “I don’t know if asking these two to shakes hands is the smartest thing in the world,” remarks King. “But to become the smartest thing…or PERSON in the world…DRINK MILK!” “This is a joke…right?” “No…But if you want the best jokes in the world, order ‘ Family Friendly Funny Magazine! ’ for your young child or those young at heart!” Pete ends the advertisement with a fake, but glossy smile. King just shakes his head in disgust. Spike and Johnson stare at each other, before Spike makes the first move and puts his hand out to shake. Johnson, reluctant at first, comes to the conclusion that he can take anything Spike dishes out, so he wearily accepts the handshake. “King, I must say. Under the circumstances this match went under to take place…I am very surprised in Spike Jenkins, who usually has a short temper, to be the man who…” Before Pete can finish his sentence, Spike cracks Johnson in the face with a signature Shotei, knocking the former UFC fighter to the mat. Referee Hornay voices his displeasure, but Spike blows (get it?) right past him and begins kicking the man who attacked him from behind after his return match with Wildchild with kicks to the ribs. *Ding Ding Ding* “…Never mind…” says Pete. “That’s another Five Hundred Dollar fine for Jenkins!” “When Spike said he was declaring war on all of Creative Control…I didn’t think he meant Stephen Joseph too!” Spike grabs a handful of Johnson’s hair and pulls him into a sitting position. From there, he locks his arm around the neck in a reverse front face lock, which resembles a dragon sleeper from the position they are in. Spike pulls Johnson up to his feet, holding him in a standing dragon sleeper! Spike uses his free arm to try and lock Johnson in for the Clean Living! “Spike is going for the Clean Living VERY early in this match!” notes Pete, “The Clean Living is one of Jenkins’ finishers, though any move Jenkins uses can be a finisher…but anyway, it is a reverse swinging neck-breaker that is used from the position that Jenkins has Johnson in!” Spike prepares for the Clean Living…but Johnson is able to free his arm and stun Spike with a backhand to the forehead. Johnson uses both hands to lock in a ¾ quarter chancery and flips Spike over with a snap-mare! Johnson wraps his arms around Spike’s neck with a chin lock, which Spike immediately fights to his feet to counter, but Johnson quickly turns it into a side headlock. Spike uses his arms to break the hold Johnson has and quickly grabbing his own side headlock! JJ is only stunned momentarily as he places his foot on the back of Spike’s leg and pushes him down to one knee. JJ pulls himself back out of the headlock. He grabs Spike’s arm and pulls it back behind his back with a hammerlock! Jenkins climbs to his feet and quickly counters back out of the hammerlock into his own hammerlock! Johnson goes to counter it himself, but Spike beats him to the punch as he slides in front of Johnson and locks in the cravat! “This is a Spike Jenkins match so there must be ten minutes of chain wrestling!” cries The King. “Oh please, it’s been hardly two minutes!” “Then why does it feel like ten?” “Oh, quite you. Jenkins and Johnson are just getting a feel for each other and their counters are so quick! But the big news is Spike getting JJ in his favorite chain wrestling maneuver, the Cravat!” says Pete as King feels another big explanation coming on, “The cravat is a ¾ quarter chancery that wrenches on the neck! It’s basically a nicer looking and harder to escape headlock with more power behind it!” “Why can’t he just use a HEADLOCK?!?!?” Johnson feels his neck being torn at, so he rolls to the mat, forcing Jenkins to roll forward and to break the cravat. They both land in opposite sides of the ring and jump to their feet, staring at one another from across the ring. “A big feeling out process between these two.” “Is that what you call it, Pete?” asks an annoyed King, “The first five-to-ten minutes of a Spike Jenkins match is the ‘feeling out process’?” “Yes.” “…I didn’t expect your answer to be so subtle.” “LETS GO JENKINS!” *clap-clap, clap-clap-clap* Both men inch towards the center of the ring. Johnson holds his hand out for Jenkins, trying to initiate a Greco-Roman knuckle-lock. Spike locks his hand with Johnson’s, giving Jay-Jay the chance to shoot down to the mat with a single leg takedown! From this point, Johnson has full control over Jenkins. But Spike isn’t the dumbest wrestler in the SWF and has studied Johnson, knowing full well that he is a former UFC fighter. “Spike is trying to stay on his back here, keeping his legs to the side of Johnson’s waist in what is called in the shoot fighting world, a ‘guard position’ ! If Johnson decides to drop to the mat and use his UFC experience on Spike, he would have to fight out of Spike’s guard.” “You must never get out at night…I mean, with you watching tapes of EVERY SPORT EVER CREATED!” “Don’t insult me because I’m doing my job,” replies Pete. Instead of dropping down, Johnson tries to turn Spike over onto his stomach for what looks like a half-crab. Spike pushes his elbow against the mat to make sure he doesn’t turn over as he slowly fights to stand on his free leg. Jenkins hops around while Johnson holds his other leg. Spike grabs Johnson’s fingers and rips them off his leg, freeing his leg, and quickly spinning underneath into an arm wringer! Johnson quickly counters it into his own arm wringer, pulls Spike in towards him, and takes him over with a release northern lights suplex! Johnson doesn’t release the arm as he floats over into a kneeling position and keeping Spike stuck in an arm bar! “JJ Johnson, a former SWF Hardcore Champion, enjoys keeping control over his opponents with arm bars and other basic submission moves to keep them down on the mat for as long as possible,” notes Pete, “A real wear-and-tear attitude when it comes to the ring!” Spike rolls backwards over his neck and onto his feet, but Johnson refuses to break the arm bar. Spike tears at the fingers again and rips away from the arm bar. With a hold on Johnson’s arm, he wrenches at the shoulder with another arm wringer! This time, instead of allowing Jay-Jay to counter it, he back heel trips Johnson to the mat! He drops down with Johnson and locks in an arm bar! “Spike learning from his mistake earlier in the match when Johnson reversed out of the arm wringer and brings him down to the mat!” JJ throws his leg into the air, wrapping it around Spike’s throat and pulling him off the arm bar into a leg scissors. Spike fights for air as he turns over in the hold to stand on his feet. He pushes himself up…into a headstand while still held in the leg scissors! “LETS GO JENKINS!” Spike leaps out of the headstand and out of the leg scissors onto his feet…and quickly snapping off a dropkick to the side of the head of Johnson! Johnson rolls out to the floor as Spike gets up to his feet and poses for the crowd! “Spike with a dropkick that sends Johnson to the floor!” cries Pete. “What the hell happened to the chain wrestling that Spike loves so much? A dropkick is not a part of chain wrestling!” “He saw an opening and he took it!” Johnson stumbles around on the floor, holding his neck. He tries to rub the kinks out of it that the cravats and dropkick have done so far. He turns around to head back into the ring…but walks into a hard slap by Jenkins! Johnson stumbles back, allowing Spike to hit him with another slap! “Open palm strikes by Spike on the floor!” “This is Lockdown! No fighting on the floor!” Spike grabs Johnson by the wrist and Irish whips him into the closest set of guardrails, causing Johnson to just barely get his hand up for protection as he goes skull first into the barricade. “What is he doing? Is he INTENTIONALLY trying to break every rule on Lockdown?” shouts the Suicide King. “Sad thing is…I think he might be…” Referee Hornay jumps out of the ring and gets into Spike’s face about his attack. Jenkins, simply, shoves Hornay out of the way, grabbing Johnson by the hair and pulling him towards the ring. He shoves the former UFC fighter underneath the bottom rope, with him following in tide. “That HAS to be another Five Hundred Dollar fine!” cries King, “What is his count up to now, Pete?” “So far…Fifteen Hundred Dollars…” “Does he even get PAID anymore?” Spike rolls Johnson onto his back and goes for the cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! Kick out! Spike climbs to his feet as he jaws with the referee. Johnson tries to crawl away, but is pulled up by Spike. “You mean ramming him into the steel guard rail only got a two count? WOW!” says an impressed King, “Johnson must be a lot tougher than I thought!” “JJ Johnson has a nice record in the hardcore division, King! On this past Storm, he defeated Ghost Machine in a hardcore match!” “Look’s like Scott Pretzler may have a hard time defending that title.” Spike pulls JJ off his knees and to his feet…but the former Ultimate Fighter shoves Jenkins backwards into the corner, sandwiching him. Referee Hornay jumps in between the two, trying to break them up. “Johnson shoving Jenkins into the corner, obviously to give himself some time to recuperate.” Hornay calls for a clean break, which Johnson apparently gives Jenkins… …Until he catches him with a quick haymaker to the jaw! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” “Tell me WHY Johnson should give Jenkins a clean break?” Johnson backs out of the corner with a big grin, as he shakes the pain out of his hand. Spike holds his jaw in pain…but bursts out of the corner quickly and shoves JJ into the opposite corner. With Johnson pinned back, Spike prepares to attack…but Referee Hornay jumps in and pulls Spike off, looking for a clean break. Spike, reluctantly, backs off…allowing Johnson to hit another haymaker right to the jaw that knocks Spike down to one knee! “No wonder Tom Flesher picked Johnson to take Spike out! He’s one of the smartest ‘new generation’ wrestlers I’ve ever seen!” Johnson grabs Spike by the hair and pulls him back into the corner he was just standing in. Johnson leans back; ready to drive a forearm into the face of Jenkins… …But catches Spike’s arm as he holds them up to block the shot! Johnson’s arm ricochets back, allowing Spike the opportunity to… …SHOTEI!!! JJ Johnson crumples to the mat and rolls into the opposite corner! [i’] “JENKINS! JENKINS! JENKINS!” [/i] “Spike outsmarts Johnson and hits one of his trademark strikes…” “One of TOM FLESHER’S trademark strikes…” King cuts off… “Yes…him, too.” Johnson climbs to his feet, his eyes filled with rage. He charges off at Jenkins…who catches him with an arm drag! They both get to their feet again…and Jenkins with another arm drag! Once more to their feet…and a THIRD arm drag! Spike quickly gets to a sitting position and pulls Jay-Jay up as well. He wraps his legs around the free arm of Johnson and pulls him over backwards onto his neck with a crucifix! ONE!!! TWO!!!! THREE---NO!! Johnson JUST kicks out of the pin. “Johnson kicking out of a quick pin attempt that was meant to stun and daze him, rather than do actual damage.” Johnson rolls to his knees, but Spike is their first to grab a front face lock! He wrenches on the neck, but Johnson quickly pushes his legs back into the ropes, forcing Hornay to break the hold. “Spike releasing the hold and now up to his feet…with Johnson following him,” watches Pete, “Johnson still gripping at that neck of his…” “Stop trying to point out weaknesses on someone who obviously doesn’t have any! Why don’t you point out the glaring weaknesses on Jenkins?” “Like what?” “Like his ring attire? Camouflage? What is that?” Both men now standing, they enter the center of the ring. Johnson looks for another Greco Roman knuckle lock…that Spike accepts…and eats a boot to the gut! Jay-Jay grabs Spike by the neck and flips him over with a snapmare. Spike lies stunned on the ground as Johnson leaps into the air and drives both his boots into the abdomen of Jenkins! “Double stomp by Jay-Jay Johnson! Taking a page right out of the book of Spike Jenkins!” Spike rolls over, clutching his ribs. He tries to move away, but Johnson quickly turns him over. JJ leaps into the air, over the body of Jenkins, and comes crashing down, back first, over the ribs! “Senton splash that must have knocked all the wind out of Spike!” Spike sits up, grabbing his chest and stomach in pain. He breathes in hard gasps of air, trying to get oxygen into his body. Johnson grabs Spike by the hair and pulls him down to the mat and goes for the cover! ONE!!! TWO!!! T---NO! Spike gets a shoulder up at two! “Johnson gets a two count on Jenkins with the Double Stomp/Senton Splash combo!” “Earlier tonight, Scott Pretzler accepted the challenge to defend the title against Johnson. But now look at this. Johnson is DOMINATING the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion in SWF history!” “A good point to bring up, King,” says Pete, who stumbles over his own words, “WOW…did I really just say that?” Johnson climbs to his feet and pulls Spike up with him. With Spike knelt over, Johnson goes for an attack…but Spike lands a back elbow to the ribs! And a second! And a third! Spike gets away from Johnson’s grasp and charges into the ropes…where he bounces off and comes back for a high-speed attack… …Only to meet a Kawada Kick right to the face that sends him down to the mat in a hurry! “Kawada Kick right to the face! Spike was barely able to put up a hand to block it, but still took a great amount of impact from that shot!” Johnson grabs Spike by his hair and pulls him into a sitting position…and unleashes a stiff kick straight to the back of Jenkins! The ground winces as Johnson smacks another kick to the back! Johnson releases Spike’s hair and connects with a dropkick to the back of the head that sends a loud *CRACK* sound throughout the arena! “OHMYGODWHATADROPKICK!” “Puts the one Spike did earlier in the match to shame, huh, Pete?” Spike falls over to the mat, looking lifeless. Johnson pulls him over into a cover! ONE!! TWO!! THR—NO! Spike gets a shoulder up! “Near fall for Johnson!” Spike pushes Johnson off of him and rolls into the corner, holding the back of his head. Johnson calmly climbs to his feet, as he stalks towards the corner Jenkins is hiding in. Grabbing Spike, he pulls him up to his feet, leaning him against the corner. JJ wields back…and CHOPS Jenkins across the chest! *SMACK* “WHOOOOOOOO” Spike grabs his chest and kneels over, trying to protect it from any more abuse. With this opportunity, Johnson grabs Spike by the arm and wrenches it down to the mat, locking in a Fujiwara arm-bar! Johnson tears back at the arm, trying to separate Spike’s shoulder. He screams out in pain as he uses his free arm to reach towards the ropes. “Well, look at that, Pete! Spike Jenkins seems to be in a pickle!” laughs King; “He’s stuck in one of the most dangerous submission moves in our business by a submission specialist!” “A Fujiwara arm-bar is a very agonizing hold. Especially considering it’s being strapped on by a man like JJ Johnson!” Johnson rips and tears at the arm of Jenkins, who continues screaming in pain. Spike uses his free hand to push himself up. Using all the strength he can, he pushes himself up onto his knees. With this newfound leverage, Johnson is forced to follow as he is now on one knee. Spike uses his speed to counter out of the hold, as he rolls forward onto his feet. Johnson tries to get to his feet, but is quickly brought back down by Jenkins the same way JJ did for the Fujiwara. This time, though, Spike wraps JJ’s arm behind his head and locks in a Crippler Crossface-type maneuver! “THE STRONG ISLAND STRETCH! THE STRONG ISLAND STRETCH!” screech’s Pete, “The Crippler Crossface, but with the arm trapped behind Jenkins’ neck!” The crowd explodes as JJ struggles towards the ropes. Spike pulls back on the neck as much as possible, while trying to put some extra leverage on it as he leans back in a crab-like standing position. JJ reaches for the ropes… …But Spike pulls back even more on his neck! “JENKINS! JENKINS! JENKINS!” “Is Jay-Jay going to tap out?” questions Pete. “No! Jay-Jay is going to break the hold or get to the ropes!” says King, “I’m sure of it!” Spike wrenches back on the neck… …But Johnson grabs the ropes with his free hand! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Referee Hornay calls for Spike to break the hold, which he reluctantly does. Both men lie next to each other, gasping for air to get into their fatigued bodies. “Johnson just getting to the ropes, breaking out of the Strong Island Stretch!” Spike begins climbing to his feet, shortly followed by Johnson. “Both men slowly climbing to their feet, very slowly. Already exhausted, as both men have been hitting each other with stiff strikes throughout this contest!” Both men kneel over, but Johnson is the first to strike as he hits Spike with a knee strike right to the side of the head. Spike stumbles back, clutching his head as he falls to one knee. Johnson turns around and heads towards the opposite ropes. He hits them and charges back towards the now standing Jenkins… “YAKUZA KICK!” shouts Pete. …But Spike dodges out of the way! Spike gets behind Johnson and quickly locks him in a full nelson! “DRAGON SUPLEX!” shouts Pete, again. Johnson tries to fight the full nelson off, but Spike holds onto the hold. He lifts JJ into the air, but Johnson just won’t go over. Even with his sore neck, Johnson is able to pull away from Jenkins, breaking the full nelson. Johnson quickly turns towards Spike, snap kicking him into the gut. Johnson pulls Spike into a T-Bone Suplex position. He lifts Spike up into the air, and when Spike is perpendicular to the mat, Johnson drops down, driving Jenkins head first into the mat!!!!! “UDV! UDV!” shouts King with great joy! “Victory by Unanimous Decision!” cries King, “A head-drop T-Bone Suplex! Spike Jenkins was just dumped on his head!” Spike lays motionless on the mat, as Johnson floats over and covers him for the win! ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! “BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!” THREE!!!!!!!!!!!! OMGNOHEKICKSOUT!!!!! “Spike kicked out of the UDV! I don’t believe it!” “This is not possible…” King stammers, “There is no way he kicked out of that!” Johnson sits up, looking at Referee Hornay in complete disbelieve. Johnson jumps to his feet, pulling Spike up with him. Jenkins drags his body, trying to stay down as long as possible, either to have some time to recuperate or simply because he is dead weight at this time. Pulling Spike up, he tries to lift the Hollywood Superstar up onto his shoulders for a DVD…but while trying to lift him up, Jenkins throws four weak forearms to save as much time as possible. Johnson lets go of Jenkins, holding on to his arm, and unleashes three stiff kicks straight to the chest, that send an echoing *CRACK* sound throughout the arena. With Jenkins nearly falling over, Jay-Jay pulls Spike onto his shoulders and lifts him up for a DVD. “Death Valley Driver by JJ Johnson!” …But Jay-Jay’s bad neck gives out with Spike’s weight on top of him and Spike falls backwards behind his opponent. With the free opportunity, Spike pulls Johnson into another full nelson! “The DVD countered into a Dragon Suplex!” shouts Pete. …But Johnson swings wild elbow strikes into the temple of Spike! Spike breaks the full nelson and stumbles back, also holding his stiff neck. JJ stumbles forward, but quickly shoots forward looking for the Superkick! …But Spike just BARELY dodges it as the kick shoots past his ear… …Johnson turns back to Jenkins… …Who hits him with a YOU-TRIED-TO-DO-A-SUPER-KICK-BUT-HEY-TRY-THIS-ROLLING-LARIAT-ON-FOR-SIZE-LARIATOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! “ROLLING LARIAT!” cries Pete, “Johnson just got dropped on his injured neck with that lariat!” “NO!!!!” It is now Johnson’s time to lay motionless on the mat. Spike shoots up to his knees and quickly turns Jay-Jay over, looking to finally end this match. ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOMGJOHNSONKICKEDOUTOFTHELARIAT!!!!!!! “Yes! Now that is how it is suppose to be!” Spike, silently, rolls off of Johnson, and continues rolling out underneath the bottom rope and onto the apron. Spike pulls himself to his knees, as he tries to make his way to the top rope. Inside the ring, Johnson slowly rolls around, trying to get to his feet. “A back-and-forth contest between these two men,” says Pete, “Both men fighting for their own reasons. JJ Johnson, fighting for the chance to go into his Cruiserweight Title match with some momentum. Jenkins, fighting for the chance…to…well…stick it to the man!” “Fight the man! Down with Bush!” “What?” “Nothing.” Spike makes it to the top rope, exhausted from his long trip from the apron to the third rope. Johnson climbs to his feet and charges into the corner. Jay jumps onto the middle rope and springboards up into the air, looking for a dropkick… …But Spike just pulls himself out of the way just in time, causing Johnson to crash into the mat! “Johnson misses the springboard dropkick! This might be the change in momentum Spike needed!” Johnson holds his ribs as he climbs up to his feet. With Spike perched on the top rope, he leaps off into the air… …And comes crashing down with a knee to the back of Johnson’s head/neck!!!! “SUPER EGO TRIP!!!” shouts Pete, “The Diving Enzu knee from the top rope!” “He stole that from Tom Flesher! That’s blasphemy!” “Well, it’s actually Spike’s version of the Ego Trip…” “His version IS Tom’s version!” “Not exactly…” Spike lands hard on the mat, but crawls towards the now nearly unconscious Johnson. Spike rolls him over onto his back…and covers him! ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *Ding Ding Ding* “Spike Jenkins pulls off the victory!” “Damn it!” cries King, “Tom Flesher and the rest of Creative Control are NOT going to be happy about this!” “Black Label” starts up, as Spike pulls himself to his feet. Referee Meso Hornay calls for Spike to shake Johnson’s hand. Jenkins leans over, grabbing one of Johnson’s hands, lifting it off the mat and throwing it back down. Meso Hornay gets in the middle of both men, lifting one arm of Johnson’s off the mat and Spike’s in the air. “One of the several new Lockdown rules, where both men’s hands will be raised in the air…because here on Lockdown, everyone is a winner!” Pete says with a very happy tone! …Just then, Spike kicks Johnson in the head… “That’s uncalled for!” shouts King, “By the way, Pete, how much money will Jenkins be fined?” Pete sighs, “Nearly two thousand dollars.” “Well, that makes me happy!” And SWF Lockdown goes to a commercial break! [FIN]

“These rules are really starting to get to me Pete. I mean seriously in this day and age is swearing really that bad. Sure it offends some, but it causes mental disorders to people like me who sit at home and watch South Park re runs all day.” A sad Suicide King speaks off camera…or at least he thinks he’s off camera. “King I know. But the powers that be think they are god or something. It’s pretty stupid, really. You know better yet. Its fuc…good lord we are on aren’t we?” Pete sweating bullets answers his own question with a look of “oh my god, I just lost my job.” King has clean up duty, “YES Longdogger our next match should be a functional piece of work.” Pete tries to recover, “That’s….right…Zyon and Marcus Ward…King I have kids I got to feed. Child support to pay.” King realizes he is in the eye of a breakdown and places the responsibility on someone else, “Seems Funyon is ready for our next match.” The camera pans to the ring where Funyon is chowing down on a hot dog. An uncomfortable silence reeks over the speakers of those watching at home while the SWF backstage crew freaks like they got a pair. Their not dancing, but they are freaking out to the point of going to a black out. Suddenly though the two man “professional” commentary team break the unforgiving buzz surrounding the arena. “Our next match should be quite the power vs. speed struggle. Zyon will be taking on the man who beat him and Nick Blum for the Hardcore Title.” Pete sweeps the madness under a rug and performs his duties. King also back from having to pull Pete away from a breakdown that NEVER HAPPENED, we swear! “Tonight is a non title match thanks to Zyon who for some odd reason feels he should strive toward bigger things. I mean the tiny salmon can chase the impossible dream all he wants, but the guy is coming off of TWO STRAIGHT LOSSES!” “Of course King discourage young talent from taking risks. You’re no better than the great men who put together the FAMILY FRIENDLY SWF CONSTITUTION! Forget risks lets feed our audience the same stuff the competitors do. You know what? Forget this, Funyon is ready and Family Friendly or not. This is going to be a great match!” Pete rages against the machine. The camera takes a 360 take of the inhabitants inside the Hershey Park Arena. Most are on their feet ready for the next match to begin while a couple know it alls laugh at the difficulties facing Lockdown. No matter MC Funyon will pull it together, you know “if you have a problem yo I’ll solve it” and all that jazz. Seriously what is more family friendly than Vanilla Ice? This man. “The next match is NON TITLE, scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit.” “I’m Born” “I’m Alive” “I Breathe” And that would be the non explicit sounds of Incubus’s “Vitamin.” The fans leap to their feet screaming at the top of their lungs as they try to turn cheering into a sporting event. The fans don’t have to wait long for the rambunctious youngster to skip through the curtain and into the spotlight. Zyon looking noticeable naked without the hardcore title sprints his way down the ramp and onto the ring apron. The young man after a week and some odd days off from physical action has recovered the extra spring in his step as he flips over the ropes and into the ring… “In the ring hailing from Elkhart, Indiana, and weighing in at 200 lbs, THE UNIQUE YOUTH…ZYYYYYON!!!” The former hardcore champ sticks to his roots by performing his signature and without the title literal headbang/arm raise taunt. Zyon hops to a random corner as his music continues to play… “Ha, I wonder if Zyon has gotten used to being two pounds lighter without that hardcore title around his waist. Even without the hardcore title the spot monkey still finds a way to agitate me. That horrendous entrance he does, isn’t head banging unfriendly and anti family.” King deep in thought. Pete enraged with the rules spits out, “Of course not. Well you know what King? I’ll give you that one. A simple gesture like head banging could very well be unfriendly. But everything else you said is your usual…for unable to use a better term, disrespect for Zyon and other cruiserweight competitors. That I respectfully do not agree with.” The crowd continues to cheer on the beloved “Unique Youth” until the sobering Family Friendly beats of “Between the Wheel” by Rush play across the arena. The inhabitants of Hershey, Pennsylvania immediately jeer the on coming hardcore champ. Marcus Ward comes forth slowly pacing his way down the entrance ramp. His newly won hardcore title buckled firmly across his weight giving the crowd more reason to boo the rookie that took the title off of Zyon. Ward ignores the hateful remarks before pausing mid stride listening to the only thing he cares to. “I’m in total control!!” That would be his own voice. The usual brutal tone seems to have been toned down a bit by technicians and strict rules. Of course this isn’t Ward’s problem so the control freak leisurely walks down to the ring. Ward smiles at the audience before entering the ring via between middle and top rope. The cocky yet skillful Ward circles the ring, stepping on the first rope of each corner showing off his prize. “And his opponent, hailing from Bavaria, and weighing in at 249 lbs, the SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION… MARCUS WARD!!!” “This powerful rookie so far has been a success. First he debuted at Ground Zero and shocked everyone when he won the hardcore title. And just last week he battled with Nick Blum all over Manhattan. So far the kid has been phenomenal.” Pete says with a totally unbiased opinion. Suicide King is visibly shocked, “Wow Happyending Pete that right there was your single greatest commentary ever. And I agree 100 %. This Marcus Ward is the true future of the SWF.” Longdogger winces at the moniker that King gave him, “Yeah…well then you would also have to agree with me when I say that Marcus Ward has the personally of a big bully. He is a serious poor sport even when he wins.” Pete keeping his strong opinions family friendly. Referee Nick Soapdish orders both combatants to the ring where the new stated pre match handshake shall take place without any disturbances…we hope. Zyon energetically strides to the center of the ring while Marcus Ward slowly steps his way to the handshake destination. Ward grinning from ear to ear looks down on his challenger before rubbing his hardcore title, a title that Zyon defended for almost two months. The youth though simply shrugs his shoulders knowing he can’t go back in time. The only time to worry about is the present and presently Zyon gets a chance to exact revenge against the control freak. And Ward…well he just likes to beat people. “Ah the handshake. Such a beautiful show of respect and dignity. It’s good to know these men have class even the spot turtle.” King speaks knowing that a recent poll indicated that a turtle is more family friendly than a monkey. “Oh no doubt “don’t to it you have your whole life ahead of you” King. I mean it’s not like they are forced into having dignity or anything. I’m sure the crowd loving Zyon would shake the hand of Ward. Yes they only boo him out of love.” Smell the sarcasm. After a brief stare down the rookie champion extends his hand first. Ward already known for his snakish tactics just smiles while his large hand wavers in the air. The crowd quickly catches on. “Don’t Do It!!” They chant, but Zyon doesn’t feel like having is wallet dented by the fine fairy. The youth innocently shakes the hand of his hated opponent… “See rules are rules Pete. No big deal…” CRACK!!! BOOOO!!! The crowd explodes jeering Marcus Ward who just downed Zyon with a clothesline. The ref quickly orders Ward back who mockingly raises his hands in the air while saying “I slipped.” The hardcore champion relinquishes his hardcore title to the timekeeper as Nick Soapdish calls for the bell. Ding, Ding, Ding! “Once a bully always a bully. That shot was unwarranted. I hope he enjoys shelling out greed’s favorite color.” Pete holds back his true unfriendly comments. “Actually Pete the rules state they have to shake hands. However, nothing is said about what happens after they shake hands.” King makes a good point. The unexpecting youth attempts to pull himself back up as Ward calmly hovers over his prey. As Zyon brings his body up, the menacing Ward puts him back down with a double ax handle smash to the back. The over powering controller of the hardcore title without a moments hesitation drops a sharp elbow to the spine of his opponent. Zyon clutches his back wincing in pain as Ward drops another back stabbing elbow! “Ward is a true role model. You see he goes into a match and immediately knows what he wants to do. That is the way life should be for the youth of America.” King obviously impressed with Ward’s abilities. Speaking of Ward the powerful heavyweight has assisted Zyon back to his feet, which is definitely not a good idea. The youth that refuses to quit fires back against his larger opponent with a flurry of forearms to the face. The crowd erupts just as Zyon does, which also means they come back down just as Ward stops the youth’s momentum with a brutal knee lift! The former hardcore champ gasps for breath allowing Ward to flip Zyon to the mat with a high angle hip toss throw!! OHHHHH! The crowd echoes as Zyon’s back smacks the canvas generating a sick echo. “Zyon only gets that high when performing high risk maneuvers. Ward just tossed him around like a rag doll.” Pete also impressed by the powerful rookie. “Pete we all know rag dolls are precious toys played with by children. Comparing them to Zyon is just being plain rude to the dolls.” King has gotten used to the family friendly rules, which allows him to sneakingly make fun of everything without having to be annoyed by Pete when he flips out. The youth with a bit experience behind him rolls around on the canvas after being thrown around by Ward. The jeering crowd has no effect on Ward who looks to continue his assault. MW goes to lift the once energetic youth to his feet before snatching him up and dropping his opponent with a side slam. Ward stays on Zyon for the cover… ONE…kickout. It was obvious that Ward wasn’t looking for the victory. Hell he was simply showing everyone around the world that he is in control. Ward lifts Zyon to a sitting position setting the cruiserweight up for a lesson in soccer. The barebones fundamental in soccer is kicking, and well… SMACK!!! “Ah!” Zyon shouts after a Marcus Ward punt. The lightweight falls to the side lacking the energy to keep his crouching stance. Ward’s sly grin has yet to leave his face as he forces Zyon to his feet by pulling on his hair. Ward lacking a certain cautious nature Irish whips Zyon into the ropes AND GETS CLOBBERED by a leaping forearm smash. The man who hungers control finds himself on the mat wondering what just happened. Zyon keeps his balance and remains on his feet even though his back is visibly giving him trouble. The former hardcore champ waits on Ward who is buzzing like a pissed off hornet. The current hardcore champ after a moment of composing rises back to his feet and quickly strides toward his opponent. Zyon though has already started the human chess game by leaping downward and dropkicking Ward in the knee! Surprised by Zyon’s latest offensive strike Ward bends down clutching his knee. Zyon hurries toward Ward and locks him in a front face lock. And as fast as the door opens it slams shut. The stronger competitor easily lifts the weaker up and tosses him back first into the upper right turnbuckle! “Oh good for a moment there I was worried.” King hinting at a Zyon compliment Zyon tries to fight back, but Ward simply overwhelms his smaller opponent with a knee to the gut. Again the cruiserweight fights for air as Ward strikes him with an elbow to the ear of all places. At a young age Zyon could possibly be battling hearing impairment along with marginal back problems. The control freak that is Marcus Ward once again hooks Zyon under the arm and follows the hooking with another throwing hip toss. Zyon floats through the air bringing the same kind of horror as a crashing jet. The youth skids across the ring before coming to a canvas burning halt! “Just like Martin Hunt, Zyon has been dominated by Marcus Ward.” Pete in awe of Ward’s power. The crowd is also in awe as they patiently wait for their hero to come back, but as of right now it’s not looking to good. Ward hardly breaking a sweat scrapes the road kill from the mat and brings him into a front face lock. The powerful hardcore champ carefully hoists the hurting youth into the air. Zyon hangs in the air vertically trying to run through all the ways he can counter a suplex. However reversing is just as physical as it is mental as the fans gasp when Ward slams Zyon to the mat with a hanging vertical suplex! Zyon pops up holding his back before slowly falling back down to the mat. The arrogant hardcore champ claps his hands applauding his own brute strength before going for the cover… ONE… TWO…kickout Zyon continues to show sings of life. Ward though isn’t worried in the slightest as he lifts Zyon to his feet and locks him in a one armed waist lock. The brutal hardcore champ drives forearm after forearm into the back of his challenger with his free arm. Zyon winces after every merciless strike before being forced into the atmosphere. Ward holds his lightweight opponent in the air on his shoulder showing Zyon off as a personal trophy of some sorts. MW after having his fun floats backward giving his opponent a less than stellar landing! “Ward continues his back destroying assault with a back drop. I’m sure everyone at home knows that Zyon is being softened for the torturous Total Control.” Pete lets everyone in on Ward’s obvious plan of attack. “And for those special families watching at home. The Total Control is most definitely friendly to your wants and needs.” Ok, now King is just balancing on the arrogant/weird line. Ward actually stops his own momentum by taking a break to catch his breath! Hardcore or not everyone needs to catch their breath, right? In Ward’s case he needs to make sure everyone realizes that Zyon is in his control. The hated gamer’s champion bends over to pick his opponent off the pain filled canvas, but is caught off guard by his opponent!! Actually everyone in attendance is weirded out by Zyon’s “counter.” The youth desperately latches on to the right leg of Ward like a dog violating its owner’s leg. MW doesn’t know what to think as he simply laughs off the cruiserweight’s attempt at an offensive assault. Soon though the novelty of Zyon’s act gets stale and Ward sees the opportunity to put the dog down. Ward bends over to grab Zyon, but the radical lightweight quickly summons the strength to lift Ward’s leg into the air! Finding himself at a lost of balance Ward tries to hop away from his semi crafty opponent. Zyon though keeps his grip on the leg of Ward before bringing the pain with a twisting dragon screw! YEAHHHH!!! As Zyon gets back in the match as do the fans. Ward languishes on the mat painfully reaching to stop the new controller of the match. However, the Unique Youth stops any attempt of Ward’s with a swift kick to the right leg of his opponent. MW’s past has come back to haunt him since earlier knee/leg injuries are well documented. Ward finds himself helpless as Zyon latches on to the foot of Ward while standing on his own feet. The youth then raises his arm teasing his opponent and hyping the crowd into a frenzy… “AHH!” A muffled yell comes from the hardcore champ who just had an elbow driven into his leg bending it in ways that just aren’t meant to be. With no submission knowledge to speak of Zyon simply tugs on the leg forcing it into directions of all sort of pain. The sloppiness of the cruisers motions allows Ward to sit up and rake the eyes of his attacker! The control freak quickly rolls out of the ring trying to buy enough time to get his thinking cap on. Of course we know what happens in a Zyon match when somebody is outside of the ring. Hurt back and all the youth bounces off the ropes and sprints toward the ropes… “With all due respect to Cyclone Comet, Zyon is going to fly, baby!!” Pete is just glowing now. HOWEVER, referee Nick Soapdish acts as a wall. Ok a really small skinny wall that would probably die if Zyon didn’t slam on the breaks. Soapdish quickly explains that fighting outside the ring is prohibited tonight and possible other nights as well on Lockdown. “HAHAHA! C’mon Pete you know people can’t fly. Seeing and hearing stuff like that tricks kids into heinous things like jumping off the slide in the playground and breaking their arm. It just isn’t Family Friendly.” King has crossed back to the line of arrogant as…jerk commentator. Pete has no choice, but to choke on his words while Zyon is absolutely LIVID!! The youth wants to continue his attack, but a fine and a DQ loss just isn’t worth it. Ward can’t help, but smile through the recent beating he took. The weasel like hardcore champ brings the HEEL HEAT by pointing to his head in a taunting gesture, allowing Soapdish to start his count. One Two Three Four Five Six BOO!! The crowd and Zyon have had enough. The Unique Youth quickly exits the ring causing referee Nick Soapdish to panic. He knows referees are just as dispensable as deer running freely through the forest. Lucky for Soapdish Ward slides right back into the ring and turns Zyon into a sheep. The cruiserweight follows Ward into the ring and gets slaughtered by another stabbing elbow drop! The hardcore champ back in control lifts Zyon to his feet and fires off a stinging knife edge chop. SMACK WHOOOO! “What? We all know our grand viewers like the rookies. So why do they insist on chanting something that has to be at least three thousand years old.” King shows how disrespectful he can be…while still fitting under the guidelines. Ward mockingly shakes Zyon’s flesh off his hand while the youth clutches his chest. Keeping his body upright Ward bends at the knees and locks his opponent in a grave bear hug! The fans gasp as the hardcore champ looks to squeeze the life out of his opponent who looks to have lost the will to fight. BOOO!! “What is he doing out here????” Pete is clueless. The struggle going on in the ring has currently taken second string as first stringer International champ Jay Hawke has decided to grace the crowd with his presence. “Look even though Hawke has a match later against a dysfunctional robot he has shown up giving the crowd a reason to cheer. I mean from the looks of things Zyon is in quite the pickle.” King glows at the sight of Jay Hawke. The international champ is dressed in his black wrestling attire, and in hand has a clipboard, which he debuted last week. Hawke pauses at the top of the ramp as he watches Ward break Zyon in two. The Unique Youth is currently mute and his physical actions have been drowned to a minimum. Yep it looks like Zyon has passed out from the intense pain. The crowd is in awe over the power of Marcus Ward who continues to overwhelm Zyon with the bear hug. Referee Nick Soapdish begins to issue the first of three arm drops. Up…down! Zyon continues to look blank and some in the front row swears that his eyes have rolled backwards. Once again though the brutal hardcore champ realizes that he is moments away from the possible victory so he continues to put pressure on his opponent’s back. UP…DOWN! “One more and Zyon has officially lost the match.” Pete points out. “Heh. One more and I think this young man will have to visit the doctor for a major boo boo, but don’t worry he’ll at least get a free lollipop.” King is just shining here. Referee Nick Soapdish dramatically lifts Zyon’s arm in the air and pulls away. The eyes of the surrounding audience drop along with the arm… UP…DO…WAIT!!!! Suddenly the Hershey Park arena blinks and gasps as the Unique Youth is not dead yet. The crowd explodes getting behind the fan favorite while Ward holds Zyon with his grip loosening after each head BUTT!! That is the route that Zyon has taken to get out of the deathly hold. The youth doesn’t care about the brain damaging long term effects of his technique (or lack thereof) but he definitely realizes that breaking free is important for his immediate future. CRRRACK!!! Both competitors’ heads snap backward in opposite directions after a grounded kamikaze head BUTT performed by the former hardcore champ. YEAHHH! The crowd is anticipating the Zyon comeback as the Unique Youth pulls his head backward and shoots it forward like a cannonball exploding from a cannon. Sadly though the stubborn noggin of the former hardcore champ does not make impact with the controlling mind of his opponent. And one overhead belly to belly suplex later and the momentum has been KILLED! “I get it now. Hawke must be out here to view the talents of one Marcus Ward. You know Pete talent attracts talent.” King is all happy, happy, joy, joy. Ward stumbles around the ring holding his head as he tries to get a grip on reality. Of course the reality of it all is that in this moment Zyon is not a threat especially if you consider the fact that the youth is once again on his back. Then again the people have yet to give up hope… Let’s Go Zyon!!! The crowd screams yet all the Patron Wrestler of Athens can do is bury his face into the mat and hold his back. MW though has regained his bearings and looks ready to add another win to his rookie record. The rookie champ grabs Zyon by the hair and powerfully whips him into the ropes. The cruiserweight viciously bounces off the ropes and comes back with a SNNNNAPPP dropkick!!!! “SNAP!” Pete shills. The hardcore control freak falls to the mat clutching his chest, gasping for precious oxygen. Zyon brings the energy by nipping up…or not. Instead Zyon slowly pulls himself up and exits to the apron rather than going toe to toe with a pissed of Ward who is still trying to piece together what went wrong. The violent Bavarian finally reaches his feet thinking off all the horrible things he will do to his opponent. Here is a hint these things are NOT noogie’s, wedgies, or the god awful wet Willy, they are much more graphic than any swirly. However, it is Zyon who bring the aggression by springboarding into the air and clubbing Ward in the face with a diving forearm smash!! MW falls to his knees leaning against the middle rope as the overanxious youth begs Ward to get to his feet. The hardcore champ obliges and walks right into a kick to the gut followed by a standing head scissor. “Zyon’s going to win it with the Final Hour!!!” Pete isn’t biased or anything. Everyone in attendance including Jay Hawke watches in anticipation as Zyon attempts to muscle Ward up…BUT HIS BACK GIVES OUT!!! OH NO! That is what most fans are thinking as the Unique Youth staggers backward, but looks to stay on the attack…SPINEBUSTER!!!! King is ecstatic. “YEAH! You see that. That is what I call a spinebuster worthy of it’s own zip code.” The camera pans to Jay Hawke who suspiciously jots something down on his clipboard. Zyon is like an egg in a frying pan as he simply lies on the mat sizzling with a spasm every few seconds. The youth’s earlier leg work has all been forgotten by Ward who feels no pain. That is because of two things, one being that Zyon couldn’t wrestle technically if his life depended on it. And two Ward is just a tough son of a loving and devoted mother. MW though is still feeling the effects of Zyon’s latest flurry, but the results aren’t what the fans wanted that’s for sure. The tough rookie lifts a spaghetti legged Zyon to his feet and proceeds to yell in his face. “I’M IN TOTAL CONTROL!” And with that Ward spins his opponent around and lifts him on to his back setting up the Total Control torture rack. MW attempts to bring his other arm over his opponent’s face/head enabling him to bend the fallen cruiser. BUT visions of failure and a broken back plague Zyon to the point of resistance. The youth uses all of his strength to fight off ONE HAND before breaking free of Ward’s control. In one fluid motion the countering light weight scales down Ward’s back and rolls the rookie up… ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!! “Your winner, ZYYYON!!!” Referee Nick Soapdish quickly raises Zyon and Ward’s hand before ordering the two to shake hands from a distance. “You have got to be…this is bullsh…” King isn’t enjoying himself any longer. “Zyon with a brilliant counter to the Total Control.” Pete interrupts. Jay Hawke has seen all he needs to as he quietly exits to the back his purpose unknown. Zyon weakly holds out his hand while Ward looks like he wants to kill everyone in the arena. “Vitamin” echoes while Ward contemplates if a major fine is worth it…and of course it isn’t. Ward quickly shakes the youth’s hand knowing he still beat Zyon for the hardcore title at the big PPV But right now between a fans cheer and a tear the Unique Youth may have something else in store for his surprising career. FADE TO BLACK

As SWF Lockdown returns from the previous commercial break, the camera cuts backstage. ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins is seen entering the arena, his sports bag placed over one shoulder as he storms into the arena. He looks around confused, but turns his attention to a pair of crewmembers who are leaning on a wall, chatting. “Excuse me, do you guys know where the locker room is?” asks Jenkins. Both men eye him suspiciously, turn to each other, and turn back to Jenkins. “Aren’t you that guy, Spike Jenkins?” “Yes…” “You were that ******* (“Ash Olay!” SWF Lockdown ©) who was in Revolution Zero?” “That was a long time ago…” “Listen, all because you fought Toxxic doesn’t mean we are going to forgive you for the **** (“POOP!” SWF Lockdown ©) you did to everybody!” says one of the workers, while they both eye him maliciously, “You aren’t wanted in the locker rooms! You weren’t wanted after Toxxic beat the **** (“FLAP!” SWF Lockdown ©) out of you, and you aren’t wanted now!” Spike glares at both men as they turn the corner and walk out of sight. Spike gives a disappointing sigh, as he now has to find a place to change for tonight. Spike goes to walk down a corridor, when a familiar chuckle is heard behind him. “Still not giving you a break, huh?” comes the familiar voice of the one, the only… “…How did I know you would show up at the exact moment where you are least wanted, Taamo?” “It’s a skill,” retorts the SWF Smarkdown Commissioner. Spike turns around to face the man who shares an almost equal hatred for Jenkins that Jenkins has for him. “You think after all this time, people would learn to forgive and forget, huh?” “Well, aren’t you the opinionated one?” Spike looks around mockingly, “What? No sneak attacks by Johnson?” “Nah, he’ll take care of you later tonight.” “Then what is this all about?” asks a suspicious Jenkins. “What? Can’t a man come and laugh in the face of his enemy?” “We’ll see who is laughing by the time this war between you, me, and CC is all over.” “Oh yeah?” asks the Superior One as he inches closer to Spike, “Why is that? What will be so funny?” “Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but I know what I have to do now,” says Jenkins. Flesher sticks his chin out, as if asking him what he is talking about. “Oh, it is all very simple. Considering my current disdain for the CC and well, you, I’ve decided that I will obviously have to put a wooden stake through your life-leaching heart.” “And how do you plan to do that?” smirks Flesher. “Easy. What is the one thing that you and the CC would hate to see to the most in this world?” “Enlighten me,” responds the Smarkdown Commissioner. “Picture this,” Spike says as he holds up his hand to show an imaginary headline, “ ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins…versus…SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Johnny Dangerous!” Flesher snarls, “You’ll never get near that title. You’re lucky to even be curtain-jerking.” Spike grins, as he knows he got under Flesher’s skin, “Tom, look who you are talking to I can get a title shot without even stepping ten feet from the Committee. I know how to play mind games, Tom. In this business, it is all about egos. If you press hard enough on someone’s, they are bound to give in.” After a long pause, Flesher looks Spike right in the eye. “You better go find somewhere to change. Your execution with JJ Johnson is later tonight.” “Don’t worry about my match, Taamo. Just remember what I said about everybody in this business having an ego…enjoy my match…” Spike begins to walk off, as Flesher’s face turns furiously red, “In fact…I think I’ll dedicate it to you.”

Coming back from SWF Lockdown’s very first commercial break of the evening, the sounds of “A Country Boy Can Survive” and the image of Martin Hunt greet the viewing audience, probably much to their dismay. Funyon stands by next to him with his hand at his ear, choking a bit on some phlegm before bellowing out into his microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, to my right…hailing from the beautiful city of Boone, North Carolina….Pi Kappa Phi’s very own MARTIN…BIG COUNTRY…HUUUUNT!” Martin struts a bit around the ring, raising his left hand high as he points at the fraternity letters adorning his chest and his music slowly fades away. “Welcome Back to Lockdown, everyone!” comes the voice of the Longdogger. “We are going to have a great show for you tonight but first we have a debut match for someone that really made his presence felt on Storm a few days ago.” “What? Danny Williams has been around for years, Pete!” King pipes in, and Pete sends back a stare. “Not him, King. A man known as Devon Wal…” He begins, only for the arena lights to drop to darkness, with only a lone spotlight pointing toward the entranceway. In the light, fans can began to make out the shadows of the two Walters’ brothers, with Matthew walking in front of his larger, younger brother. With no music to speak off, the crowd’s murmurs can be heard crystal clear as the fans try to get a glimpse of this new behemoth in the SWF. ”And introducing his opponent…being accompanied to the ring by Matthew Walters…he stands at seven foot three inches tall and weighs in at three hundred and thirty five pounds… DEVON WAAALTERS!” The faces on the two men change little as Funyon exits the ring, making way for referee Sexton Hardcastle to slide under the bottom rope just as Devon reaches the ring steps. With a slow grace he climbs to the apron and steps over the top rope, entering an SWF ring for the very first time. He looks out over the crowd slowly, spinning a bit before his eyes catch his brother’s. Matthew nods and smiles softly before making his way around the second corner of the ring and the lights return back to their normal radiance. ”As I was saying…this man known as Devon Wal…” “…mind if I sit here-“ “No you may-“ King starts… ”…Mr. Dogger?” “If you wish…” Pete answers, and Matthew moves a chair to the table, setting it up and even grabbing himself a headset, adjusting it on his head as referee Hardcastle asks both men to shake hands to start the match. At first, it seems both men are apprehensive, but after a quick glance at his brother, Devon extends his hand to his opponent. “This is silliness…” King remarks out loud as Martin Hunt belches, wiping his hand across his mouth and putting it right into the palm of the giant across from him. ”Ewwww…” Both announcers say together, but Matthew simply watches quietly as Devon removes his hand, and with nothing more than a flick of his wrist across his tights, he seems to be just fine. Hunt chuckles and circles the big man as Sexton calls for the bell… *DING DING DING* “And here we go, our first match tonight and Devon Walters first match in the SWF has just begun!” Pete calls as Hunt continues to circle, unsure of what to do as Devon simply stands there, his arms in front of him as he watches his opponent. “Good.” Matthew mutters as Hunt stops, confused, and questions the referee about the actions of Walters. “What do you mean, good? He’s not doing anything!” King exclaims, a little louder than he intended, and Matthew extends his hand, pushing it toward the console in a “quiet down” motion. “He has no reason to attack Mr. Hunt. All he has done was run circles around him and burp rather unpolitely.” “Rather unpolitely?!” King responds from across the table, “As if what you just did wasn’t rather unpolite to me! Do you even know who I am?” “Of course, Mr. King. But if you don’t know, I’m sure you can find some DVDs or old magazines or something.” Matthew’s remark catches the ire of the Gamblin Man, who has to hold himself back from diving across the announce table at this unwanted pest. “Calm down, King. He knows who you are.” Pete tries to keep the peace as, inside the ring, Sexton Hardcastle talks with Devon, who seems to be mouthing the same reasoning that Matthew just gave. Satisfied, Sexton turns to Hunt and can be heard saying “hit him.” “Did he just tell Martin Hunt to hit Devon Walters? That’s great! Even the referee is getting bored!” King chortles royally and Matthew just shakes his head back and forth as Hunt winds up his right hand and sends a blistering punch into Devon’s face, who makes no attempt to block it. “Ouch. Stinging right hand from Hunt and Walters is still just standing there. Even I’m perplexed at this point, fans.” LDP remarks as the fans around the arena slowly start to build a chant up from the floor to the rafters. “DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!” “Are they chanting bell noises?” King questions as his head moves from side to side, watching the Hershey crowd around him in awe. “I guess they are making sure both men understand that the match has started, as it seems Devon Walters isn’t too sure about that yet.” Pete replies, only for Matthew to glare over at him. Back inside, Devon’s eyes dart around the arena in front of him, to Sexton, to Hunt, to his brother, and back again repeatedly as he stands there. Sexton again asks for something to happen, and again Martin obliges with another hard punch to the jaw. “WOOOOO!” The crowd actually cheers the southern boy as he fires off another punch, and another…none of them doing too much damage, but really getting the crowd into it. ”HIT HIM AGAIN!” a fan can be heard yelling from ringside as Hunt drops back into the ropes and springs off, leaping off the mat and connecting across Devon’s chest with a hard clotheline. The momentum finally is enough to get the big man moving, as he drops back into the corner and against the turnbuckle as Martin Hunt lines up another shot from the middle of the ring. “Here we go! Finally some ac-OH MY!” Pete calls as Hunt tries for a splash into the corner, only to catch the bottom of Devon’s foot straight across the side of his face. The shot drops Big Country to the canvas as Devon steps out of the corner and shakes his body from neck to ankles before looking down at his opponent, who is already back to his knees. “What was that about, huh? Explain that to me?” King calls, his questions obviously directed right down the table from himself. “Well, what reason did my brother have to attack Mr. Hunt before then?” “Oh, I dunno, maybe cause it’s his job?!” King replies as Devon wraps his hand around the throat of Hunt and lifts him to his feet before turning and tossing him into the corner by his goozle. Hunt hits hard and tries to fight out, only for the big man to push him back into the buckles with a hard clothesline of his own! “I don’t think you are seeing the big picture. My brother would not attack Mr. Hunt first for the same reasons you would not come out to his table and attack Mr. Dogger.” Matthew replies to King’s antics in stride as Devon keeps Martin pinned in the corner with a quick series of European Uppercuts. Sexton gets in the middle and calls for a break, and Devon quickly obliges, stepping away from the corner and turning toward the announce table, where Matthew simply nods back to him. “So you are saying he isn’t going to attack first because Martin Hunt is a big loser that doesn’t deserve any more pain in his life?” King pulls out his trademark grin and Pete tries to stand up, only for Matthew to put his hand across his chest and sit him back down. “It’s not worth it, Mr. Dogger.” Matthew starts as LDP regains his seat, huffing to himself, “he would not attack first because there was no reason to. What did Mr. Hunt ever do to my brother? Nothing. When he decided to take matters into his own hands and take the fight to him, however, then my brother was forced to respond, and you are seeing it now.” Matthew points to the ring as Martin Hunt has again found himself in the clutches of the giant after a boot to the ribcage doubled him over in the middle of the ring. With a grunt, Walters pulls Hunt off his feet and holds him across his chest before dropping down to his left knee, jamming his right one into the back of Big Country. “Textbook backbreaker there, and so far Devon Walters has shown…” “That he can lift someone up and put them down…GOOD!” King replies, though Pete mostly ignores him and keeps on going. ”…that he does indeed know his way around a wrestling ring. Martin Hunt might be thinking about canceling any victory bash he might be planning alreeeeeeaaa………….wow.” Pete is stunned into silence as, after lifting Hunt back up into position for another backbreaker, Devon Walters spins the body of the fraternity brother up and then all the way back down to the canvas with a hard powerslam. “Oh that was NOTHING” King exclaims as Devon stays on top of Hunt for the first pin attempt of the contest… One…. Tw—Kickout! Martin Hunt quickly kicks out of the pin and rolls away from the big man, all the way to the outside of the ring. Devon waits casually inside as Hunt catches a breather, holding himself and leaning against the apron and looking up at his opponent, seemingly wondering what to do. “What is he doing now? He could at least go after him!” King points wildly at the scene playing out in front of him as Sexton starts to count Martin Hunt out… …1… “Again, Mr. King, there is no reason for pursuit here. It is early, and sometimes it’s not about keeping the upper hand or taking advantage of it, but going with it when it happens to come your way.” …2… “Well that’s just a load of…” ”Sponsors! A load of sponsors we have here on SWF Lockdown!” Pete cheerfully interrupts the FCC-violation sitting next to him… …3… As Devon continues to stand in the ring, resting against the ropes…Hunt, still on the outside, looks more confused than he was a few months back when he accidentally walked in on a Calc 400 exam. “I don’t think Martin Hunt, or anyone else around here, has ever seen anything like this! Devon Walters is about ready to fall asleep…” “…as is half of our viewing audience! Do something!” King yells again as Hunt finally dives under the bottom rope and into the ring, getting to his feet just in time to meet the lumbering body of Devon Walters as it goes airborne, catching the fraternity brother square in the chest with a lariat, putting both men down…but for Devon not for long. “Big flying clothesline and Martin Hunt is down once more!” “He suckered him in, did you see that?!” King calls out as Devon stands, brushing himself off and pulling Martin up as well. ”Mr. Hunt had no reason to attack him, whether this match was signed by our boss, your boss, or anyone else. He should have just refused to come out to the ring tonight. Just by wanting to fight my brother, he began to cross the waters into bad karma.” ”It’s his job!” King screams back as Devon lifts Hunt into the air with a suplex, carrying him to the side of the ring and dropping him down across the top rope with a hard… SPPRRRROOOOING! …before twisting his body in mid-return and releasing the body of Martin Hunt, driving him down into the canvas back-first with a rough bodyslam! The crowd reacts with a loud cheer as Devon keeps one leg hooked up to his body and Sexton falls down for another count and Pete flips through his notes… One! ”The Conversion and this match could be over right here!” Two! NO! “Martin Hunt barely able to kick out right there, and you can see that the determination on Devon Walter’s face just jumped ten fold! Can you tell me what he is thinking in there right now, Matthew?” “I can’t really say. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s good. This is one of the few times I can’t tell what he is thinking. When he gets in that ring and things start happening, he becomes a different animal…” GRAAAAAAAAWL!! “WHAT WAS THAT?!” The voices of Suicide King and the Longdogger are heard as Devon unleashes a loud yell, much to the delight of the crowd around the arena. ”See what I mean?” Matthew points as Devon intertwines his arms with the arms of Martin Hunt and holds him there before throwing his body backwards and sending his opponent flying and flipping backwards, landing on his face from the brutal suplex! “The Call of the Kali!” Pete checks his notes again, “That is your move isn’t it, Matthew?” ”It was…but I never did it like that.” Matthew shakes his head as even Sexton Hardcastle can’t believe what he has witnessed. Martin stirs, his head rising slightly as Devon stands back from the car wreck that is Big Country at the present moment, poising himself in the corner. ”I’m surprised he’s even moving right now! He should just stay down!” Pete calls towards the ring, but Hunt continues to pull himself up, barely aware at the monster standing across the ring eying him like prey on the savannah. “How about instead of standing there like an idiot…you go over there and punch him or something! This isn’t mannequin wrestling, hit him!” King yells at the big man, who seems to acknowledge the screaming with a nod of his head. “I think he heard you, King.” “He did.” Matthew quickly interjects as Hunt finally gets himself up in the corner, looking out into the crowd and turning around…. WHAAAM! “OH MY GOD!” Pete calls as the right foot of Devon Walters crushes the side of Martin Hunt’s head as he comes out of the corner, the gunshot of a yakuza kick barely giving Hunt any time to react, but plenty of time to lay face down on the canvas with a tread mark on his cheek. “That is some consequence, right there.” The Dogger continues as Walters falls to the canvas and rolls Hunt over on his back, pinning his shoulders to the mat… One! Two! Thr-NOO!! “Martin Hunt….BARELY able to kick out of that thunderous shot from Devon Walters!” “Don’t pick him up!” King calls out once more toward the ring, apparently trying to give the newcomer some pointers as Devon beings to pull Hunt up by his right shoulder. Sexton checks on Hunt for a moment before Walters whips him towards the ropes and looks to catch him on the bounce… WHIFFF! ”He barely slipped away that time…and here comes Big Country off the ropes a second time!” Pete tries to follow the action as Hunt barrels back toward Devon and leaps, lunging and stretching his body into perfect position for a huge dropkick straight to the chest of the big man! Devon stumbles backwards and Martin Hunt stays on the offensive, sending a hard forearm shot to Walters’ face and reaching up for a headlock, pulling the giant down to his size! “I don’t even know how Martin Hunt is still able to walk after that suplex, quite frankly, but I’m glad he is! Yeah! Hit him in the face!” “Stop cheering.” Matthew’s voice is heard and the Suicide King again begins to get miffed. “What?” “I don’t think he can hear you, Mr. King. It’s pathetic, especially coming from a man who is supposed such a high caliber of wrestler.” “SUPPOSEDLY?!” King responds, slamming his hands down on the console as Martin Hunt begins firing off right hands into the face of Walters. Devon tries to back himself toward the ropes from the position he is in, but Hunt uses all the strength he has to keep the big man from making any quick moves, continuing to hammer away right between the eyes of the rookie. “If you are and were such a great wrestler in this company and in this business, Mr. King, then why are you here right now cheering on someone that you would have considered pond scum back when you held that World Championship?” “The man has a point, King.” Pete responds, and King stays silent, glaring across the table. “Wow, I think you shut him up, Matthew. I’ve been trying to do that since I got this gig.” “Would you two just shut up and watch the match, already!” King opens his mouth just as Devon wraps his arms around Hunt’s waist and lifts him into the air, causing confusion and panic to appear on the face of Big Country. “Uh oh…” Pete remarks as Hunt begins to fight with everything he has, throwing all of his weight forward and is finally able to squirm just enough to let the big man’s grip slip! Hunt lands back on his feet, still holding Walters in the headlock as best he can. “Martin Hunt was almost in some serious trouble but was able to regain…BIG SHOVE BY WALTERS!” Devon gets his hands around Hunt again, and this time just pushes forward, causing him to fly into the ropes. Martin comes back as Devon lines himself up again, firing his right foot into the air for a second time… “ANOTHER CONSEQUENCE!” WHIIIIIIFFFF! “…MISSED! DEVON WALTERS MISSED ON THAT BIG KICK!” Hunt hits the ropes a second time and turns around to come back for his own attack… OOOOOOOMPH! WHAAAM!! “We’ll call that one Nirvana out of nowhere!!!” Pete yells in time with some cheers in the crowd as Martin Hunt’s body is nearly flipped completely over with a huge clothesline from the big man. “The momentum can change in an instant, just like that Martin Hunt thought he was in control, and now he is back facedown in the canvas.” “I’ve seen better.” King quips as Devon begins to pull Hunt off the ground again, hooking him into a front facelock and lifting him HIGH into the air, holding him with one arm as his body hangs upside down seven feet off the canvas! “This…is Bliss, gentlemen.” Matthew says softly and looks up at his brother, who is still holding Hunt upside down, his eyes filled with confusion as he looks down toward the announce table. Matthew nods again and Devon shakes his head. “What the hell is going on?” ”I think he’s afraid.” Matthew quickly remarks as he begins to stand at the table to yell toward his brother, but before he can Hunt is able to fall out of the grip and down behind the behemoth, landing as gingerly as he can from such a fall and shoving on Devon hard. Distracted, Devon stumbles forward into the ropes and turns around just in time to catch a hard knee to the chest from Big Country! “Ol’ 100 Proof Knee there, and he can only thank himself when he loses his very first match in the SWF! What was that all about?” “Well, Mr. King, after you spend some time in jail for giving someone a deserved beating, it takes a toll on you mentally when you are asked to do it for sport.” Matthew replies and keeps his attention on the ring as Martin Hunt tries to scoop his large opponent off his feet and into the air! “He’s trying to pick him up!” Pete yells as Hunt grunts and groans to himself as he lifts Devon up onto his shoulder, holding him into position for a powerslam as he turns around to face the middle of the ring. “…He got him up! I don’t believe it! Martin Hunt got the big man Uhhhh…WAIT A MINUTE!” Devon falls backwards to his feet from the hold and turns Hunt around, wrapping both of his hands around the throat of the fraternity brother and looking deep into his eyes. Hunt starts to flail as Devon’s stare gets closer… ”Creepy…” Both announcers say under their breath as Devon lifts Hunt off his feet and holds him by the throat before pivoting to his left and tossing him down into the turnbuckle with velocity. Smack! “Martin Hunt looks like he has seen a ghost!” Pete calls as Hunt sits in the corner, his eyes bugged slightly as he gasps for air, barely noticing the big man lining him up from the middle of the ring. “This doesn’t look good, I’ll admit that.” King calls as Pete looks to Matthew, who can only say one word… “Intervention.” With a burst of speed, Devon rams his body into the prone anatomy of Martin Hunt, crushing him into the corner before following up with a hard series of rights and lefts, open palms catching every part of Hunt’s face as he tries to block and push them away, to no avail. “Devon Walters is massacring Martin Hunt into that turnbuckle! I have never seen so many shots come so fast like that!” LDP remarks as the punches continue, with Sexton moving in and trying to break up the melee… ”Come on, break it!” Sexton yells to Walters… “One!” “Two!” “Three!” Devon pulls away after a final knee to the gut, leaving Hunt there standing on his own two feet, but looking more battered than he was just thirty seconds ago. “My Heavens…” Pete says as Hunt stumbles out of the corner and into the arms of the big man, who lifts him to his shoulders… “How can you advocate that kind of a beating?!” King directs his ranting at Matthew, “how can you go around here saying that what everyone else is doing is wrong and you are so in the right! Huh? How can you say that! These people come here to wrestle and to win and you mock them!” King bellows as Devon Walters throws Martin Hunt off his shoulders and over his head… “Sometimes it’s not about winning or losing…” THUUUUUUD!! “Karma! A dose of Karma for Martin Hunt! There’s the cover!” Pete calls out as Martin Hunt’s face eats the canvas and Matthew puts his headset down, leaving toward the entrance ramp as Devon makes the cover… One! Two! Three!!! *DING DING DING* “Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this contest by pinfall… DEVON WALTERS!!” Funyon makes the match official as Devon stands to his feet and brushes himself off, waiting patiently for Hardcastle to get Martin Hunt to his feet. Matthew stands at the steps, his eyes watching his brother. “Quite the impressive debut from Devon Walters, as he comes out here like no one else, making short work of Martin Hunt in our opening match!” “Next time, keep that loony brother of his away from the booth, alright? That’s the kind of guy that could drive Toxxic to drinking…” The Suicide King snuffs as Devon Walters steps over the top rope and down to the floor, leaving the ringside area to the muffled cheers of the crowd. Neither he nor his brother acknowledges those around the ramp, hands extended, as they head to the curtain and Lockdown goes to its second commercial break.

In his private dressing room, now cut off completely from the vestiges of Revolution Zero, Scott Pretzler sits in a folding chair with the Cruiserweight Championship draped over his shoulder. He faces the camera. “JJ Johnson, I respect you. I respect you a great deal. You’re a straightforward and honest man, and with more people like you, this business would be in good hands.” He pats the title belt and gives it an appreciative look before continuing. “When Wildchild wanted a match with me, he instigated a series of increasingly violent and unpleasant confrontations, one that eventually led to his defeat and my being awarded this belt. He could have just asked, and I would gladly have accepted his challenge, but his communication skills were insufficient. You, on the other hand, presented yourself like a gentleman. Your challenge to my Cruiserweight Championship was tactful and sportsmanlike.” He leans in closer. “Which is why I’m going to grant your request.” As if forestalling a response, he holds up his hand. “However, that does not mean your offer was devoid of arrogance, cheap shots, or misinformation. It contained all of these things. First, you argued that I have not been a credible champion because I have only made a single title defense since winning the belt. Pardon my Swahili, but c’est ridicule. The champion is not the one who makes challenges – that is the job of those below him who wish to contend for the title. That’s why we call them challengers.” He says this last word slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a mentally disabled person. “Secondly, you contested my statement that you were content to remain in the middle of the Revolution Zero success ladder, moving neither up nor down. No, scratch that. You didn’t contest it so much as you tried to twist it into a snappy and threatening one-liner. And in this you may or may not have succeeded – I lack the cryptography skills necessary to figure out what the *BLEEP!* you were saying.” The audience goes silent as they try in vain to decipher what he is saying. Offscreen, someone gasps at the profanity. “Finally, you lambasted the fact that I have been in many high-profile matches with exotic stipulations. This is a case of simple jealousy which demands no counterargument.” He leans back and glances again at his belt. “But, as I said, these are minor quibbles, and I would be honored to put this title on the line in a match with you next Monday.” He stands. “Just don’t expect anything but utter defeat.”

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! LIVE, WEDNESDAY AUGUST 10th, FROM THE HERSHEYPARK ARENA IN HERSHEY, PENNSYLVANIA! (5PM PST, 8PM EST; check local listings) Send all materials (marked matches, promos, hershey kisses, etc.) to Ace309. As of 8/5/05, all SWF wrestlers have been given a copy of the following memo, entitled Family Friendly Lockdown Rules: So, tune in Wednesday night for some explosive action- Huh? ... what do you mean I can't say explosive? ... Jeez... ok, fine... Tune in Wednesday Night for some fun-tastic action on Lockdown! What? No... no, I am NOT putting the- ... FINE. "Tune in Wednesday Night for some fun-tastic action on L ckd wn!" I'm going to go jump off a bridge now. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Main Event Ejiro Fasaki vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix --> Oh. Hell. YES. Maddix vs. Cortez has been signed for Genesis. \m/ \m/ In the mean time, Landon Maddix revealed on Storm that his eyes were on a larger prize - the SWF World Heavyweight Championship. Since Landon and Todd have to be kept apart for a while, we decided to give Landon a taste of what he's after - tonight he goes up against very-recent World Champion, Ejiro Fasaki! If he manages to put Rule away, his arguments for a title shot might hold a little more sway. Then again, Ejiro's no pushover, and I'm sure he's itching to get back into the game. The question is: who wants it more? Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 6000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Ghost Machine vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke © - SWF International Championship Match --> The reports are in - kids love Ghost Machine. Underneath his cold maybe-robot exterior is an icon that millions of children ages 5-10 have come to adore. We'd be crazy to keep him off this show. More importantly, when Manson was all set up for a shot at Jay Hawke's International Championship, Ghost Machine scored an upset win over him! Ghosty was out of town for the PPV, but now he's back, and ready to cash in his shot against the Dean of Professional Wrestling! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Justice -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Wildchild vs. Nick "The Hitlist" Blum --> So Blum fell a little short in the Hardcore division, but hey - maybe that's just not his style. He's got more than a smattering of Cruiserweight background - let's see if he fares any better in that arena. Tonight, "The Hitlist" goes one on one with one of the SWF's most acclaimed Cruiserweights, Wildchild! Will we see an amazing upset (something our rookies seem more and more capable of)? Rules: Standard, with Cruiserweight addendum - no throwing your opponent over the top rope, outside count goes to 20. Word Count: 5000 Send to: janusd -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- JJ Johnson vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins --> The mysterious Ground Zero match that never was - actually, it's not so mysterious, Spike just got a touch of the flu. After a false start that almost required us to refund all of our PPV buys for false advertising, these two are ready to go! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Zyon vs. Marcus Ward © (non title match) --> Both of these guys are awesome. Zyon is awesome because he rocked the Hardcore division from day one, and has allowed me to come up with the phrase "pulling a Zyon", which is when a newbie wows everyone with their awesomeness. Marcus Ward is awesome because he pulled a Zyon. Zyon has expressed a wish to move up in the world, so this bout will be non-title - just a chance for these two proven hardcore warriors to showcase their other skills. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: TheSuperstar -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Devon Walters vs. "Big Country" Martin Hunt --> The SWF's newest asset is Devon Walters, a monster of a man with a knack for giving people what they deserve. In his SWF debut, he goes up against perennial JTTS, Martin Hunt. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Opening Promo: Pretzel-man.

Hm. I would have pegged GSMS as Shin Hashimoto, pre-death.

I believe Sly was referring to his short title reigns as the only thing he'll be remembered for. Sacred's legacy is as someone whose matches I asked not to mark because I worried that I liked his writing too damn much.

I swear I didn't tweak it to say that.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STORM! LIVE, FRIDAY, AUGUST 5th, FROM THE LEGENDARY MADISON SQUARE GARDEN IN NEW YORK, NEW YORK! (5PM PST, 8PM EST; check local listings) Matches are due to their markers by 8 PM EST. All materials (marked matches, promos, bagels with lox) are due to chirs3 by 10 PM EST. Opening Promo: SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION JOHNNY DANGEROUS! As always, after a pay-per-view, the SWF is allowing most of its athletes some time off. However, two matches are slated to take place. One features two exciting rookies who debuted on pay-per-view, and the other involves a pair of impressive athletes who didn't compete. The Card House Rules Match: Penn Station Brawl - SWF Hardcore Championship Marcus Ward © vs. Nick "the Hitlist" Blum ~ Ward won the Hardcore Title in his debut, defeating Zyon and tonight's challenger, Blum, in a match that was ... odd, to say the least. In order to keep things kosher, we're having the rookies face off in the obligatory hardcore title "House Rules" match! (Don't worry, guys - the way the shows rotate, you'll get a normal stip soon. We promise.) Rules: The match takes place in Penn Station, the historic subway station below Madison Square Garden. It's attached to the stadium, but the match will start inside the turnstiles. There are escalators, subway patrons, homeless folk, MTA officers performing random searches, and - yes! - running trains! Falls count anywhere in Manhattan and can be obtained by pin, submission, or forcing the opponent to leave the station. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: chirs3 Hardcore Match Ghost Machine vs. JJ Johnson ~ Neither of these men competed on the pay-per-view, and so we're bringing them out to allow them to beat the crap out of each other in Manhattan! Will the notoriously "smart" crowd crap on Ghost Machine, or will JL Crunk's massive android protege show them how it's done by dismantling Johnson? Rules: None! It's hardcore, fools. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: Ace309

Depending on the marker, if you exceed the word limit, there will generally be consequences of some nature. Since all the markers differ, it's impossible to codify, say, a "1% point penalty for every 10 words over the limit" or something, but depending on how egregious the violation is and the quality of your opponent's match there's a possibility that a match that's over the limit will be jobbed. MS Word has a built-in word-counter that most of us use. Again, it's impossible to say what the fed-wide policy of the markers is, since we try to allow the markers to retain as much freedom as possible to mark the better match to win subject to conditions they consider relevant.

Sleight-of-hand to allow both wrestlers to brawl somewhere if the writer wants them to, or have a fairly final decision using a couple of other spots I can think of right offhand. Loose rules = writer freedom.

This alone is worth the price of admission.

Word limit for GM/JJJ extended by request.

Psst. Toxxic. It's a secret identity.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Johnny gets the shoulder up just ever so slightly before three! Ejiro tries to argue the count but Herrington firmly replies with two fingers. Nonetheless, Fasaki presses onward. He pulls Johnny back up to his feet, when Dangerous suddenly breaks the Champion’s hands free from him then grabs him by the arm to whip Fasaki across the ring! Ejiro rebounds and Johnny tries once again for a lariat, but like previously in this match he misses. Fasaki ducks down under the arm the reaches back and grabs around Johnny’s head before dropping to his posterior, nailing the Barracuda with a quick neck breaker! Dangerous doesn’t stay down, though, instead he gets right back up with a hand to his neck and tries to press the attack on Fasaki only to get nailed with a forearm that rocks his head back and sends the Barracuda falling into the ropes! Grabbing the Challenger by his arm, Ejiro pulls Johnny off the ropes and sends him barreling across the ring- -Dangerous reverses and sends the World Champion for the ride instead! Fasaki rebounds off the ropes and Johnny steps forward, snatching Ejiro off the mat into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker… “No dice!” exclaims Comet. “Johnny tries for a tilt-a-whirl but Citizen Fasaki rolls right out of it and snatches the Barracuda’s arm into a wrench, bringing him to the mat face-first!” “RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” Bringing Johnny down with the armbar causes an eruption of cheers and even more so when they see the terrified look on the Barracuda’s face! Ejiro quickly floats over and grabs around Johnny’s chin to lock in his deadly Cobra Crossface! “RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Ejiro has the crossface locked on! This is the end for Johnny Dangerous’ sinful approach to this match!” shouts Pete. “The hell it is!” snaps Riley. “Johnny hasn’t taken nearly enough damage to his neck and it’s not like some crappy ‘cobra crossface’ really hurts all that much to begin with!” “Tell that to Agent Dangerous,” replies Comet. Johnny bucks and flails to try and escape while screaming in pure agony. It’s obvious that this move is deadly no matter how strong, or how tough someone might think they are, as evident by Dangerous’ attempts to free himself. “Even if this move did hurt,” Riley continues, “you have to remember that Johnny Dangerous is a trained spy. He was breed to be able to withstand huge amounts of punishment in an interrogation and not give in and this is hardly that bad!” “Nor is his life in jeopardy,” replies Comet. “All he stands to loose is his chance to become Champion.” “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” The fans chant loudly for Johnny to give up, but even as Herrington drops to his knees and asks the Barracuda if he yields a firm ‘Fuck You’ is all the Secret Agent says in reply. The ropes aren’t terribly far away and Dangerous can see that. He reaches his free arm out and digs his nails deep into the canvas, and tries to drag himself closer… “Come on, Johnny!” Riley cheers despite himself. Pete and Comet simply shake their head in pity. Johnny gets closer to the edge of the ring and reaches out for the ropes…and he gets them! The crowd sounds off with a resounding boo in disapproval and Herrington orders the break, but after all the crap Johnny had already put the Champion through perhaps a disqualification wasn’t that bad after all. ONE! “HE couldn’t possibly do this!” cries Riley. TWO! “After the way Johnny’s conducted himself I’d condone such a slap in the face,” adds Pete. THREE! “Agent Dangerous brought it upon himself.” FOUR! NO! Fasaki finally releases his hold. He knows he could keep his belt that way but right now, nothing would be greater than to put this son of a bitch down for good—down for three! Fasaki stands as Johnny stays down, holding to the ropes with one hand while clutching his neck with the other hand and crying out in pain. He pulls the Barracuda up to his feet and then BLASTS him as hard as he can in the face! WHAM! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” Johnny is rocked back on his heels. Unfortunately, it takes quite a lot out of the World Champion to deliver it. He can only watch as Johnny staggers back while he tries to catch his breath, then finally he heads in to connect again. He swings but Dangerous blocks it with a forearm then PLOWS his knuckles right into the Champion’s mouth, reopening Fasaki’s busted lip! WHAM! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” “This, right here, has got to be some of the hardest shots I’ve seen all night!” shouts Pete. “These men just won’t quit!” Johnny tries to make a quick, second attack on his opponent and he swings but misses before having his arm snatched into a quick arm wrench. Fasaki steps forward, whipping Johnny to the corner and then follows closely behind. Like previously, but with Ejiro, Johnny sticks his foot out to stop himself from slamming into the post and then he quickly darts around, catching Ejiro as he comes up from behind and lifting him up…then dropping the Champion, face-first, into the top of the ring post! WHAM! Ejiro’s head hits the post and then sends him staggering backward before finally falling to his back on the mat! The crowd boos ferociously, knowing that right now the World Heavyweight Champion is in more danger than ever before….and the Barracuda knows just what he wants to do. He quickly turns back around and climbs up the post with his back to the ring…and his face to these bastards he once called his fans. Fuck all of them. Right now he’s got one thing separating him and the World Championship and that’s back flipping off this post…and so he does. Johnny moonsaults through the air and unfolds at the apex of his jump… “DEATH FROM ABOVE~!” WHAM! Feet first, Johnny comes crashing down onto Rule with his deadly moonsault double stomp as the crowd gasps in horror! Johnny, however, can only smile in knowing that he’s finally accomplished a year long quest. He hops off Fasaki to regain his balance and then drops to his knees, covering the World Champion as Herrington makes the count. ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “BY ZEUS!” cries Comet. “I can’t believe it, but Johnny’s nefarious actions have actually gotten him the victory!” “Ha!” cackles Riley, “I knew Johnny Dangerous would prove that Ejiro was a hack! I was rooting for him the whole time!” “The hell you were, Riley,” fumes Pete. “You’re just an opportunist hopping on the bandwagon at the first chance.” “THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH,” booms Funyon, trying his hardest to fight back the surging boos of this crowd, “AND THE NEEEEEEEEW SMARTMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOOOOON… JOHNNY ‘THE BAAARRAAACUDAAAAAAAAA’ DAAAAAANGEROOUUS!!” ‘After the Flesh’ begins thumping through the Grand Ballroom though it’s hardly heard. However, all that matters to Johnny Dangerous is the belt. The title that he’s fought all year for was finally coming his way. Herrington hands over the World Heavyweight Championship to Johnny and he snatches it from the referee, clutching the title to his chest. Not even the fans turning their back on him matters right now because everything is all about the title in his hands—the chants of the crowd mean nothing to him right now. “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “This is certainly not good,” says Pete, shaking his head. “For too long Johnny Dangerous had fought to get this prize and now when he gets there he’s completely gone mad.” “It’s a sad day indeed,” Comet agrees. “This will most certainly have lasting repercussions in the Federation, on Wild and Dangerous, and the fans all over the world. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this on Storm, so for Longdogger Pete and Bobby Riley, this is CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~! signing off of SWF Ground Zero 2005!” The last shots show Johnny Dangerous, proud of his victory, sliding out of the ring and holding his title belt out to the fans…then promptly extending his middle finger to them before heading back up the ramp. All the while the chants continue…. “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “JOHN-E SUCKS!” “JOHN-E SUCKS!” As We: FADE OUT. ===== SWF Ground Zero, July 31, 2005. © Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: "Raising Workrate by Typing Faster."

Down on the Casino floor, the scene is of typical hubbub (!?!) as the Las Vegas patrons foolishly gamble their money away, just for the small glimmer of a win or just the thrill, the buzz, the financially crippling addiction that gambling brings. Amongst the hoohah (!?!), the SWF's aaaaace reporter Benjamin Hardy is down floorside, along with a very special guest. Wearing a long, flowing, black ballgown, Megan Skye would look particularly stunning tonight, if not for the sorrowful look on her face. "Alright, Benjamin Hardy hangin' ten down on the floor of the Bellagio Hotel and Casino...where, not long from now, we will see a Casino Brawl take place. Right here behind us, Todd Cortez will finally get his hands on Landon Maddix, in what promises to be a chaotic brawl if nothing else. Now, one person with more than a vested interest in this match is with me right now. Megan Skye, you have been noticeable by your absence and your silence in recent weeks since what took place with Landon and yourself, leading to this Martial Law break-up. But, you've come here tonight...I'm assuming, to support Todd Cortez tonight?" Megan nods solemnly. "As we said, you've kept a low profile since what went down. Can we...can we get some comment from you?" "What on?" "Well...on the match tonight maybe?" "Like I said Benny, I'm here to support Todd. He's back in the hotel now and he's getting ready, I decided to come down here early and give him some time to focus. Obviously, what's happened has really gotten to him. I've never seen him like he's been in recent weeks. It's been really..really rough. All I hope is that tonight, Todd and Landon can sort this out and we can all move on with our lives." "When you say 'sort it out'..." interjects Hardy. "...what are we to expect from Todd Cortez tonight?" "I...really don't know." sighs Megan, shaking her head. "It's been a little hard to talk to Todd about this. I know he's been confiding in Mike. Mike Van Siclen. I know they've been talking and discussing things, but it's been hard to talk to him about it myself. The thing that worries me is how far he might go. Seeing him watch Landon talk gets kinds scary at times. His eyes..." Megan pauses. "I've never seen Todd truly display any hatred, until these past few weeks. So, what you can expect from Todd, I really don't know. To what lengths he'll go, I'm afraid to think. To be honest, I've really been dreading this night. Now it's here? Like I say...I just hope that we can get through this, I hope that nobody gets hurt tonight and I just hope that we can all then move on with our lives." Hardy nods. "And, what about your thoughts on Landon himself?" Sighing, Megan pauses, possibly looking for the right words to say. "Landon's not a bad person." concedes Megan. "He's just not come to terms with what happened properly. I know firsthand, he's got a bad temper...and, he finds it hard not to hold grudges against people. Sometimes he says things he doesn't really mean which make people think he's a worse person than he really is, but they don't know him like I do...sorry, did. He's really, really not a bad person. We had a great run and a lot of fun along the way. I...I..." Megan's voice begins to break up. "I love him like a brother. Even after what's happened. We made a great team, but things change though. Life moves on and I'm with Todd now. I just hope that, in time, Landon will grow to recognise and respect that." "Well, I wouldn't bet on it. Thank you Megan Skye, let's get back to ringside!" Megan glares at Hardy for his off the cuff quip, as we go back to the ring.

FADE IN. A thunderous roar of cheers erupts from the crowd in Las Vegas as Ground Zero returns to the Grand Ballroom after the Casino Brawl. Knowing what match comes next the fans are already on the edges their seats, excited by the prospect of a local hero returning for the ultimate prize in this business. Numerous signs of support can be seen. One phrase – “Vegas, Home of the Beautiful People” – is a slogan that can be seen across many of them while others display more original phrases. Finally, on the giant screen overhead, the prominent ‘Ground Zero’ logo fades away as the images of two men come across the screen. On the left side stands a shorter man of oriental descent with the SWF World Heavyweight Championship over his shoulder. There is only one look…one expression on his face, and that is one of determination. Below him it reads: “EJIRO FASAKI” To the right stands a man that this city has come to know and love—a real class act that this crowd is proud to get behind. As usual, a pair of high-tech sunglasses adorns his face, but unlike past times it’s not the smooth face that we’ve come to know, rather one with a good five o’clock shadow and a devilish smile. Below him it reads: “JOHNNY DANGEROUS” “Finally, the moment is upon us!” exclaims Longdogger Pete. “After a tremendous show that’s stretched two continents we’ve come down to the final match of the evening – the World Heavyweight Championship match and this crowd is simply excited to see this one go down in the history books!” “Count me in as part of that excited crowd,” says Comet. “It’s been a long journey for both of these men on the road to Ground Zero and I think they might be just as relieved to settle this once and for all themselves!” “Indeed,” agrees Pete. “Johnny Dangerous and Ejiro Fasaki are both coming into this match with something to prove. I know Ejiro is sick and tired of upper management claiming that he isn’t good enough for the World title and trying to purposely make him seem like less of a Champion than he is by forcing him to defend the title in the undercard of recent shows, not the main event like Champions of the past have always gotten. Hell, he even had to defend the belt against a friggin’ robot!” “A robot that nearly had Fasaki beat!” Riley interjects. “Another second or two and it’d be Ghost Machine sitting at the top of this Federation! That alone has got to prove to everyone that Sweet Cheeks…err Tom Flesher was right about Fasaki – he’s not main event or World Champion material! Rule without Justice is a curtain jerking act!” “Foul, cries me!” roars Comet. “Citizen Fasaki is obviously World Champion material given the simple fact that he is indeed the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. Now, on the other hand of things, Agent Dangerous is coming into this match ready to unload half a year of frustration onto the World Champion in his attempt to claim the prize as his own. I think the real question here is who has the stronger will power to forge on and not give up during the course of this match?” “Johnny Dangerous has already claimed that he is willing to do anything that it takes to win,” notes Pete, “but I’ve got to wonder…with the way the Barracuda has been acting lately, how far is he willing to go?” “Don’t even go there, Robert,” Comet scolds his announcing cohort as Riley opens his mouth. “To answer your question, Pete, I’m not really sure given the unpredictable state we’ve seen Agent Dangerous in lately. However, he needs to realize that in order to win the title he has got to beat Ejiro Fasaki by pinfall or submission. A disqualification or count out will do him no good here so there is only so far he can really press his luck before costing himself everything in front of his hometown.” DING DING DING!!! The ringing of the timekeeper’s bell draws all the attention towards the ring where Funyon, sporting a glittery black tuxedo, stands. Slowly, the house lights dim as a single, solitary spotlight shines down on the ring announcer. He carefully makes a final review of the index cards in his hands, shuffles them, and then draws the microphone to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellows, “this...is your MAIN EVENT!” “RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” “The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP…of the WOOOOOOOOOORLD!” “RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” As expected, the ring announcer temporary halts his introductions as the fans let out a huge pop! They settle back down and Funyon continues, “Introducing first, the challenger…” All eyes quickly dart towards the stage as a hush comes over the crowd and they wait for his entrance. Silence ensues for several more seconds and then finally, a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice… “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” …and the Grand Ballroom erupts as ‘After the Flesh’ thunders through the speakers! From the sides of the stage comes a rolling cloud of smoke, concealing most of the entrance area from view. Fans closest to the stage try their hardest to see if they can catch a glimpse of their hometown hero moving through the haze. Their struggle is made much easier when a series of strobes fire up, flashing in perfect harmony with the music, illuminates the figure of Johnny Dangerous as he strolls out from backstage and finally emerges from the smoke, at the top of the stage! “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” Not a single fan is left sitting. Everyone is on their feet cheering their hearts out, despite the recent developments with the Barracuda that could possibly turn some noses north. None of that matters right now because Johnny Dangerous has finally come home to win the World Championship and his people—the beautiful people—were most certainly going to be with him every step of the way. “JOOOOHN-E!” “JOOOOHN-E!” “JOOOOHN-E!” “JOOOOHN-E!” “JOOOOHN-E!” “Will you just listen to these fans!” shouts Pete, completely beside himself. “Coming into this match the Barracuda has almost made me doubt his integrity and I feel I’m not alone on that stance! His plea to the people of Las Vegas to understand that he was doing what he felt he had to do in order to become World Heavyweight Champion here tonight—right of wrong—has definitely worked!” “It’s not like the people haven’t been cheering for this guy all along,” says Riley. “Besides, the only thing you have against him is the fact that he may have cost Wildchild the World title and that was only for the better anyway!” “Who’s to say it would have been better?” Comet questions his announcing partner, “maybe Agent Dangerous did it because he felt that he couldn’t beat Wildchild.” “Whatever the reason it was definitely selfish,” adds LDP. “Let’s just hope that was a one time screw up by the Barracuda and not an indication of things to come.” After a moment of surveying his fans from the top of the ramp Johnny begins to waltz down towards the ring, and when he steps forward the crowd bursts with another loud pop! “From LAS VEGAS, NEVADA,” bellows Funyon, adding some extra weight to his naming of Johnny’s hometown, “and weighing in at two hundred-twenty five pounds. He is a former World Cruiserweight Champion, former United States Champion, two-time former Intercontinental Champion, former International Champion, four-time co-holder and REIGNING World Tag Team Champion, and a former World Heavyweight Champion! He is…JOHNNY ‘THE BAAARRAAACUDAAAAAAAA’ DAAAAAANGEROOUUUS!!” Johnny slides into the ring, climbs a corner post, and pumps his fist to the crowd as flash bulbs explode from all sides of the arena. He steps down from the post and heads towards the side of the ring as his music finally fades out. POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!! The rapid firing, machine gun-like pyrotechnics that announces the arrival of Ejiro Fasaki begins, leading into the thumping sounds of the ‘Crazy 88 Theme’. Even before the arrival of the World Champion to the stage these fans start to rile against him with a boo, which only gets more heated when Ejiro swipes aside the curtains and steps out onto the stage! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” The reaction is something Ejiro was more than prepared for. He knew coming into this, when he announced that he’d defend his title in Vegas that the fans would not be on his side, but rather lined up to support his challenger. Still, the chant of the crowd is a little more than disheartening and he softly sighs to himself before straighten up his posture and marching straight down the ramp. “F-U FASAKI!” “F-U FASAKI!” “F-U FASAKI!” “F-U FASAKI!” “Will you just listen to this crowd!” shouts Pete. “I think it was obvious from Johnny’s entrance as to whose side these fans would be on, but I never expected them to rip into the World Champion like this! Ejiro’s got a very tough match ahead of him!” “Indeed,” agrees Riley, smiling with a wide-toothed grin. “I mean I wasn’t banking on Fasaki to be able to pull out a win here tonight to begin with, but it’s going to be hard for him to even think in here tonight. I know plenty of people will say the fans mean nothing but I think it’s got to be a detriment to his morale.” “Possibly so but Citizen Fasaki is coming down here with something to prove,” Comet reminds Riley. “He’s had all the odds stacked against him for his entire reign as World Heavyweight Champion and he wants to show the world that not only is he deserving of this title, but he is a fighting Champion as well! “AAAAAAAND his opponent,” bellows Funyon. “From Sarasota, Florida, and weighing in at two hundred-twenty pounds; he is a former United States Champion, a former two time co-holder of the World tag team Championship and he is the REIGNING SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOON…EJIROOOOOOOOOOOOOO FAAAAASAAAKIIIIIIII!!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Sliding into the ring, Ejiro waste no time popping up to his feet and holding the title belt out to the referee. He’s waited all night to finally prove the Barracuda wrong once and for all and he isn’t about to waste his time playing to the crowd that refuses to show him any heed. Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington, the official for this match takes the World Title from Fasaki, shows it to Johnny then raises it out to the fans, letting them feast their eyes on the coveted prize before finally turning it over to a ringside assistant. He calls the two men to the center of the ring, making one last run down of the rules though neither man is even listening. They step towards each other, standing nose-to-nose as Herrington rambles on. Finally, the referee signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell. DING DING DING!!! The fans buzz with energy as the bell sounds off. However, inside the ring, Ejiro and Johnny stand motionless. Johnny says a few words that aren’t quite audible to Fasaki causing the World Champion’s eyes to narrow as he regards his Challenger… CRACK! “OOOOOH!” …and Johnny cuts across the World Champion’s cheek with a tremendous backhand, sending a stream of spit flying out of the side of Fasaki’s mouth as he staggers back with a hand to his face! “HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO!” exclaims Comet as Johnny closes the gap between him and the Champion, drawing back his fist. He swings but Ejiro isn’t about to simply stand there and let Dangerous take one pop-shot after the next. Rolling through the punch, Ejiro comes up behind Dangerous and quickly snatches him by his waist, lifts up and brings the Barracuda down on all fours with a quick, aggressive takedown! Johnny quickly scrambles to get out of this situation, fearing…knowing he doesn’t stand a chance trying to wrestle Ejiro Fasaki on the mat, but the Champion continues to press on and try as he might to lock the Barracuda in any hold that he can get. Ejiro reaches for an under-hook but Johnny rolls backwards to escape, forcing the Champion to lock around the Barracuda’s waist once more to keep him from completely escaping and then lifts him up for another takedown that puts Dangerous on his knees. Rolling back once more, Johnny tries to fend Fasaki off but Ejiro holds on still as the Barracuda rolls up to his feet and reaches to grab onto the ropes – the World Champion still holding on. Herrington orders the break and gets it with Fasaki carefully backpedaling away from Johnny while the Barracuda still holds onto the ropes for safety. “Ejiro Fasaki shows his dominance in mat wrestling from the start,” notes Pete. “Though Johnny has shown he can hold on in this aspect he certainly isn’t equipped to handle Fasaki on the mat.” “Several shows back we saw Agent Dangerous take on another ‘Hooker’—Citizen Francis—and we saw how terrified he was of that cobra clutch,” recalls Comet. “Perhaps Ejiro took note of this as well and knows that if he can keep Johnny on the mat, wear him down, and lock on that clutch, he’ll have his title defense in the bag.” A small round of applause comes from the crowd for this demonstration of skill from Ejiro as he finally stops halfway across the ring from Johnny. Finally, Dangerous steps off the ropes, flush red, and begins to circle Ejiro. They make half a circle before rushing together and locking up with a collar-and-elbow tie up, fighting for purchase. Slightly stronger, Johnny manages to get the upper hand, taking Fasaki’s arm back and into a hammerlock before floating around and grabbing the Champion in a headlock. Johnny clamps down on Ejiro’s skull then swings him over to the mat, on his back, with a side-headlock-takedown then tightens down further! “RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” “It looks like the Barracuda is showing Ejiro that he can keep up with him on the mat, after all,” gloats Riley. “With a very basic takedown,” adds Pete. “Like I mentioned earlier, Johnny has shown that he can work a body part into a submission but he’s fooled himself if he thinks he can compete at Ejiro’s level on the mat.” Ejiro starts flailing his arms as Johnny keeps his hold locked on, trying to squirm free to no avail. He reaches around Johnny’s waist and suddenly rolls the Barracuda over onto his shoulders! ONE! And nothing more as Johnny easily rolls back over to get his shoulders off the mat, still holding tightly to Ejiro’s skull. Dangerous rolls Fasaki onto his back and takes his turn at the count… ONE! But Ejiro quickly pulls his shoulder off the mat. Now the headlock isn’t clamped down as tight and before Johnny can reassert himself the Champion rolls onto his knees and pushes up to a vertical base. Once up Ejiro pulls Johnny back with him into the ropes and then uses the momentum coming off of them to finally shove the Barracuda away, freeing himself from the headlock! Both men head to opposite ends of the ring, bouncing off the ropes and coming back towards each other… WHAM! …and Ejiro floors the Barracuda with a quick drop kick to the chest! Ejiro rolls up to his knees – slowed somewhat from having his head crushed by Dangerous he just watches his opponent clutch his chest while kicking his feet into the mat before finally heading towards Johnny and covering him for… ONE! …and nothing more as Johnny easily shoots his shoulder off the mat! Both men pop back up to their feet and Dangerous charges in only to get taken back over to the mat with an armdrag takeover! Back to his feet, Ejiro closes in on Johnny as he pushes up to his feet, looking for a lariat, but the Barracuda returns the armdrag takeover and sends Fasaki into the canvas! “Shades of Ricky ‘the Steamboat’ Dragon!” exclaims Comet. Johnny quickly pops up to his feet and assumes a fighting stance against the World Champion, drawing out a huge cheer from his fans. Ejiro--a safe distance away from his challenger--pushes up to his feet, not once taking his eyes off of Johnny Dangerous. “This match has certainly been a little less bloodthirsty coming out of the gate than what I was expecting,” says Riley. “These two have played a rather safe game so far.” “It’s been a while since Johnny and Ejiro have competed against each other solo,” says LDP. “However, I know both of these men are very capable of getting nasty if the opportunity arises and I fully expect it to head that way the second one of them gets pissed.” Johnny bolts towards Fasaki and swings his arm out for a lariat, but Ejiro ducks under and rolls behind then draws his arm back and… SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOOO!” …catches Johnny in the chest with a chop as he spins back around to face the Champion! Johnny staggers back with a hand to his chest, caught by surprise with the chop before Fasaki grabs him by the arm and steps forward to send Johnny across the ring with an Irish Whip… NO! Johnny quickly digs his feet into the canvas and reverses, sending the Champion across the ring, towards the corner post instead! Johnny starts to chase after Ejiro but suddenly stops when Fasaki doesn’t run into the post, but rather leaps up to the second rope in the corner before jumping back… CRACK! “RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” …and Johnny jumps up and levels the World Champion with a drop kick to the back of the head! “OH!” Comet winces at the impact, “that was an absolutely drop kick to the back of our World Champion’s head! I think that might just be the beginning of the end for what was a competitive yet rather friendly match between these two rivals.” “Possibly,” Pete reaffirms with a nod of his head. “It was only a matter of time, anyway. There is way too much bad blood between these two and way too much for them to prove against one another for this match to not get ugly!” Back to his feet, Johnny smiles as he watches Fasaki holding his head in pain and then raises his arm out to the crowd, getting a huge pop in return. He smiles, knowing his support is strong. “JOHN-E!” “JOHN-E!” “JOHN-E!” “JOHN-E!” “JOHN-E!” “Not to mention,” adds Riley, “that this crowd is so behind Johnny Dangerous that it’ll be nearly impossible for Ejiro to catch any kind of a break here tonight. This is the kind of environment that’ll bring out the worst in men.” Johnny casually strolls back towards the Champion and pulls him up to his feet with a quick arm wrench then sends him barreling across the ring with another Irish whip, but this time flinging him to the ropes. Ejiro springs back off the ropes to the Challenger, who bends over to send the Champion through the air with a back body drop but only gets a stiff kick to the forehead for his efforts! CRACK! “Ejiro had that one scouted,” declares Pete. “That’s the kinds of things that’ll cause you to loose this match, and if Johnny wants to win he’s going to have to step it up a bit.” The fans boo ferociously as the Barracuda stumbles back from the shot—hand to his throbbing forehead—before Rule storms in and floors Dangerous with a running forearm smash! WHAM! ONE! TW-NOO!! Johnny kicks out! “There was a ton of authority behind that kick out,” notes Comet. “So far this match has seen Johnny in control for the majority, but now I think we’re about to see the Champion take his lead back.” Pulling Johnny up to his feet by his hair, Ejiro aims to do just that and promptly slices the back of his hand across Dangerous chest with several knife-edged chops! SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!” Johnny dazedly stumbles back, reeling from the stinging shots to his now beet-red chest, and Fasaki takes off across the ring, trying to build some steam! He hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards the Barracuda, slamming into, and flooring him with a running shoulder block! Once more Fasaki bolts back across the ring as Dangerous pushes back up to his feet. However, Johnny sees Rule coming back off the ropes towards him and quickly swings his arm out for a huge lariat… WHOOSH~! …But Fasaki ducks under the Secret Agent’s arm to avoid it, the momentum sending Johnny spinning around on his heel and making it rather easy for the World Champion to lock his arms around Dangerous chest before sending him through the air with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! WHAM! Ejiro quickly dives in to cover his opponent for… ONE! TW-NOO!! Johnny thrusts his shoulders off the mat and rolls onto his stomach. Before he can push up to his feet on his own power, though, Ejiro grabs the Barracuda by his jet-black mane, drags him to his feet, and then whips him towards the corner post! No! Once more Dangerous is able to reverse the whip and he sends Fasaki to the corner instead. Johnny chases after the Champion, hoping to catch him with an avalanche, but Ejiro manages to get his foot up in time to prevent himself from going chest-first into the steel post then quickly swings his elbow back, catching the Challenger directly in the face! CRACK! Johnny stumbles a few steps back before falling flat on his back, dazed from another shot to the head. “Ejiro’s managed to get the Barracuda down and it looks like he’s going to take full advantage of this opportunity,” says Pete as Fasaki starts to back-step his way up the corner post. Once to the second rope, Ejiro leaps off and brings his elbow out… WHAM! …and drives it straight into Johnny Dangerous’ sternum! Ejiro quickly applies a lateral press for… ONE! TWO! “NO!” shouts Comet. “Agent Dangerous gets the shoulder up right after two. He’s starting to slow down considerably now; Ejiro’s offensive strategy is slowly but surely chipping away at the Barracuda’s armor.” “Indeed,” agrees Pete, nodding his head. “At this rate I don’t think the Barracuda will be able to go much longer. Even as early as it is we’re seeing Ejiro’s determination to prove all those doubters wrong shine through brightly.” Like before, Ejiro pulls Dangerous up to his feet by his hair, but this time Johnny suddenly reaches up and gouges at Fasaki’s eye! The crowd “OOOOOOOH’S!” at the attack and Herrington jumps in to admonish Dangerous for such a maneuver, while the Champion’s hand instinctively moves to cover his eye. Johnny has no time to pay any heed to the referee’s warnings and he shoves past Herrington then grabs Ejiro by his arm. Johnny whips Fasaki across the ring, into the ropes, and then moves forward to catch the Champion on the rebound. He slides to the mat to send Fasaki face-first into the canvas with a drop toe hold then fluidly moves back up to his feet, bringing Fasaki’s leg back and behind his back to lock on his over-the-shoulder half crab! “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” “The Barracuda!” exclaims Pete. “Johnny Dangerous is going for an early submission by locking on this deadly move!” “Citizen Fasaki’s fighting it though,” says Comet. “I don’t think Agent Dangerous is going to have enough time for this move to do any damage before the World Champion can reach the ropes!” “He’d be wise to just give up now; saving himself from any embarrassment,” adds Riley. However, giving up is the last thing on Ejiro’s mind. He scrambles as quick and hard as he can to drag himself to the edge of the ring and grab onto the ropes as the crowd roars with cheers. It only takes a few seconds for Ejiro to make it to the ropes and he reaches up and grabs onto them, holding on as tight as he can, waiting for the break to come. Herrington orders it, but Dangerous holds on for as long as possible. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, Dangerous releases the hold, knowing he can’t risk a disqualification. He stands up and calls out to the crowd for some applause and gets it, though it sounds somewhat strained. “I’m somewhat appalled by Agent Dangerous’ last tactic,” Comet furiously says. “Is he actually willing to resort to such underhanded shenanigans like poking someone’s eye to gain the advantage?” “I don’t see why not,” Bobby incredulously replies. “It’s not like Ejiro Fasaki is so far removed from using such measures to gain the advantage himself! If you remember correctly, Fasaki used a chain to beat Toxxic for the World Title in the first place. I say it’s fitting of him to loose in much the same manner!” Smiling deviously, Johnny strolls back towards the Champion, who is starting to push himself up off the mat with one hand gingerly reaching for his back. Johnny kicks the hand away and then grabs Fasaki by his head, pulling him up to his feet and then… WHAM! Johnny clubs Rule in the small of his back with a double axe handle, sending Fasaki back to his knees. A howl of pain comes from the Champion’s lips and it’s the sound that makes the Barracuda pleased. Now he knows that he has a sore spot growing on his opponent and all he needs to do know is work to exploit it…something that the Barracuda wasn’t afraid to do. He reaches down and grabs onto Ejiro’s hair, using it to have control over the Champion and bring him back to his feet. Johnny tilts Fasaki’s head back then gets directly in his face. “Come on, Ejiro!” Johnny audibly shouts for all those in the Grand Ballroom to hear, “is that all you got!?” CRACK! Johnny finishes his taunting with a good old fashioned European uppercut, sending the Champion stumbling back into the ropes! Ejiro staggers into the ropes and is then, consequentially, propelled forward off of them and walks right into a round house kick to the gut! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” The crowd winces as their World Champion doubles over, clenching his midsection, and offers no defense as Johnny floats around to the side and shoots Fasaki’s leg to haul him onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry… “MI SLAM! MI SLAM!” shouts Pete. “Johnny Dangerous is trying to put the finishing touches on Ejiro Fasaki on the first opportunity that comes open!” However, as close as he is to the edge of the ring, there is no room for Johnny to deliver his usual MI Slam and instead he pivots on his heel, falls backward and dumps Ejiro right over the top rope! Inadvertently, on his way to the thinly-padded outside floor, Fasaki’s head hits the apron and bounces off, sending him to the floor in a heap of misery! “Good, God!” cries Pete. “Intentional or not that was certainly uncalled for! Johnny wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be willing to do whatever it took to win the World Heavyweight Championship from Ejiro!” “Obviously he wasn’t, but I was figuring that the do anything clause would be a result of desperation,” Comet crossly adds. “Agent Dangerous has been in a rather precarious position but that was by his own fault. He hasn’t been in any situation that really calls for him to act in this manner!” “Will you two quit your bitching!?” Riley demands. “It wasn’t like the Barracuda had a target on the apron and has been dumping Ejiro over the top till he finally hit it – this was just an accident!” “It’s just an obvious indication of the Agent Dangerous predetermined mindset coming into this match! He’s planned this all along!” In the ring, Johnny peers down at the ‘World Champion’ lying crumpled on the floor with Red Herrington next to Ejiro, checking on his wellbeing. Johnny said beforehand that he was going to show everyone that Ejiro Fasaki was a fluke of a champion—a man that never deserved this belt in the first place—and now he knows he was right. Again, a devious smile comes over Dangerous face before he slightly chuckles at his opponent…and then raises his arm out to his fans. As expected, they do cheer, but it’s not nearly as solid as earlier…something which the Barracuda doesn’t even notice. Johnny steps between the ropes to the outside apron and then drops to the floor, heading towards Ejiro with a big shit-eating grin. “Look at that, Robert!” Comet points towards the two competitors. “If Agent Dangerous was simply under-calculating in his ejecting of the World Champion from the ring then why is he so proud of it?” “Beats me! I guess he’s just a happy, go-lucky kind of guy.” With both men now on the outside Herrington is forced to step back and begin a ten-count. He slides into the ring and begins, shouting out the count quite audibly: “ONE!” Ejiro dazedly stands back up and when he does you can see a path of blood dribbling from his lip, obviously busted from when his head slammed into the apron. He swings recklessly at the Barracuda as Johnny approaches, but the intended punch is dodged quite easily and followed up with a knee to the gut! “TWO!” Again Ejiro is doubled over with his arms wrapped around his gut—blood dripping slowly down from his mouth—and Johnny grabs him by the side, lifts him up, and drops him chest first across the crowd barrier! “THREE!” Reeling, Fasaki merely hangs over the side of the barrier. Some of the fans actually reach out to pat the World Champion on the back and urge him not to give up, but they’re forced to take a step back when Johnny steps forward and pounds his fist into Fasaki’s back! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! “FOUR!” Finally, Dangerous peels Rule off the barrier and backs him up… WHAM! “FIVE!” …then runs him back towards the barrier and slams his forehead into the top of it! Ejiro’s head hits the structure and then glances off, sending him stumbling backwards before tripping up and landing flat on his ass. “SIX!” “It doesn’t look like Johnny is paying any attention to the referee’s count,” notes Comet. “Surely he realizes the title cannot change hands on a count out?” “SEVEN!” Instead of following up further with his attack on the Champion, Johnny heads back to the ring. He rolls in under the bottom rope, forcing the referee to stop the count…and then rolls right back out to the outside, dropping back to the floor. Herrington lets out an exasperating sigh, and then once more starts his count from the beginning. “ONE!” Johnny casually strolls towards Ejiro with his head held high and his arm raised out to the sea of fans in the Grand Ballroom. Cheers are still there. Even in spite of the Barracuda’s rather underhanded and rather…cheap tactics, but Johnny takes them anyway. “TWO!” He comes to Ejiro as the Champion is once again finding his way to his feet under his own terms, and quickly swings his fist into Fasaki’s face! No! Ejiro suddenly blocks with a forearm then returns fire, slamming his own fist into the Barracuda’s skull as he unleashes a ferocious growl! WHAM! “THREE!” “Ejiro’s not done for yet!” Pete shouts joyfully. “He’s taken a tremendous beating on the outside here but still his desire to win has yet to be crushed!” “It’s going to take a lot of water to damper the flames burning inside Citizen Fasaki’s soul,” adds Comet. “If anything comes out of this match tonight it’s that we’ve seen the emergence of TRUTH~! I can only hope that JUSTICE~ finds its way out here tonight as well!” Johnny, stunned, blinks his eyes uncontrollably as he steps back from the first shot. If anything, Ejiro may have bought himself some time to gather his bearings, but he isn’t about to risk taking the advantage when it’s staring him in the face, daring him to try and take it, so Fasaki rushes in and… WHAM! “FOUR!” Blasts the Barracuda straight in the face with a forearm! A few scattered cheers can actually be heard for the World Champion, though nothing as present as the ones for the Barracuda. Still, the lack of boos is noticed by Fasaki and it’s like a small burden has been lifted off his back – there is now only him versus Johnny with the crowd seemingly out of the way. However, the dazed feeling has yet to fully leave the Champion causing him to move a lot slower than he’d like to, giving Johnny far more time to recover than Ejiro would want to give him. “FIVE!” As Fasaki makes a third attempt to rush the Secret Agent and nail him again, that simple fact that Johnny has yet to really have his bell rung comes into play as he finally dodges out of the way and shoves Fasaki in the back, sending him into the steel steps! CRACK! Johnny quickly heads past the announcers table and stops in front of Funyon, shooing him out of the way and grabbing his steel chair. Folding his newfound weapon with a loud clang, Johnny then turns on his heel and starts to make his way back towards the Champion. However, Herrington may be willing to let these two push their limits, but he isn’t about to stand idly and allow them to start using weapons and he hops out of the ring himself, then snatches the chair away from Dangerous! “Thank the heavens we have a firm referee like Citizen Herrington officiating this match,” beams Comet. “If we had someone like Eddie Long out here they’d get away with dropping anvils and John Deere tractors on each other and we’d never get a clean match that way.” “Maybe some of us would like to see that kind of match,” says Riley. After admonishing the Barracuda, Herrington heads off to put the chair safely away and inadvertently putting his back to these two competitors. Johnny watches the referee walk away then turns back towards Ejiro, smiling devilishly, and he waits for Rule to pull himself off the steps and get back up… “I’m not sure, but I think Johnny may have been looking to distract the referee by getting the chair out to begin with,” says Pete. Dangerous waits some more…then Fasaki finally gets back up, unaware of Johnny’s position until the Secret Agent runs in … WHAM! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” …and Johnny Dangerous punts the World Champion directly in the crotch! The fans watch in disbelief as the scene unfolds and as Ejiro grabs his crotch—mouth gaping wide open with blood dripping from his lower lip—and Dangerous sweeps the Champion off his feet for a MI SLAM…but instead of completing the move he stops when he has Fasaki draped across his shoulders, aligns himself with the steel ring post, and then flings Ejiro off his shoulders and into the unforgiving steel back-first! CRACK! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” “Hot damned!” cries LDP. “This is starting to go way past the do anything to win mindset, this is just total disrespect for our World Champion! Johnny isn’t trying to win…he’s purposely trying to injure Ejiro Fasaki!” Johnny pumps his fist out to the fans once more, calling out to them proudly, but finally, and possibly long overdue, a small backlash stirs up. Several scattered boos can actually be heard throughout the audience among a very, very dim cheer. Hometown hero or not, these fans are starting to grow appalled by the Barracuda’s actions. “Well, it seems like it might not just be you and me calling Agent Dangerous down for his actions, Peter,” says Comet, taking note of the crowd response. “Could it be that these fans of Las Vegas are actually growing tiresome of the Barracuda’s antics as well as his constant begging for their accolades?” “If they are then the hell with them!” snaps Riley. “You can’t ever count on the fans to show support where it belongs, anyway.” Ejiro is writhing on the floor. The pounding he’s taken to his back is tearfully painful and he lets it be known with an audible cry. Apparently, it’s enough to get a small chant going for him. It starts small--rather quiet--then quickly spreads to a loud chant: “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” Johnny simply looks out at the fans astonished. He takes it as a simple show of mutual support and shrugs it off then grabs Ejiro and rolls him back into the ring, following behind him along with the referee. Ejiro staggers to his feet, still holding his back, but the support seems to give him a little more fuel than what he previously had. Johnny storms in, fuming from the chants for the World Champion, but Fasaki swings for Dangerous head with his fist – he isn’t going to take anymore of this crap from the Barracuda so long as he can still stand, and so long as he can still fight! The shot pelts Dangerous in the face, though somewhat lacking of any real force, and the Secret Agent returns fire with a much healthier punch of his own, rocking the Champions head back! Ejiro staggers around and Johnny locks his arms around Fasaki’s waist then hauls him up with a German Suplex, planting him back into the mat! WHAM! Johnny immediately pops back up to his feet and pumps his fist out to the crowd, hoping to get them back in his corner only to get booed in response. “Johnny Dangerous had better stop focusing all his attention on these fans,” says Pete. “Their show of support is no where near as important as keeping focused on the task at hand.” “Plus,” adds Comet, “it looks like he’s already done enough to turn these fans away from him already. His only saving grace now would be to compete with some good sportsmanship instead of all his cheap tactics.” Johnny waves off the fans and then hops down on his opponent, applying a lateral press for: ONE! TWO! NO!! Ejiro kicks out to a thunderous cheer! He shoves Johnny back and with a loud, angry roar he gets back up to a vertical base… SMACK! …and Johnny cuts across his chest with a knife-edged chop, void of any “WHOOOOOO’S” from the crowd which cause him to furrow his brow. He pulls Fasaki back off the ropes… CRACK! …and Ejiro suddenly nails the Barracuda in the chin with an elbow! The fans cheer and the World Champion takes flight across the ring, heading for the ropes as Johnny stands stunned from the elbow. Ejiro hits the ropes and springs back… WHAM! …and Johnny dives for Rule, knocking him to the mat with a shoulder tackle! Johnny mounts his opponent and starts hammering away into his face with fist, and even continues as Herrington begins to count. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, Dangerous concedes. He may be running on emotions right now but he knows there is only so much he can get away with before getting himself disqualified, negating everything he’s worked this entire year for. Once more the Barracuda is up to his feet and he raises his arm out to the fans, madly shouting at them—ordering them—to cheer for him! Instead Johnny gets totally the opposite and a chant breaks out, but it’s not like anything Johnny Dangerous has ever heard before, let alone directed towards him. “FUCK YOU, JOHNNY, FUCK YOU!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!! “FUCK YOU, JOHNNY, FUCK YOU!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!! “FUCK YOU, JOHNNY, FUCK YOU!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!! “FUCK YOU, JOHNNY, FUCK YOU!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!! “I-I-I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Pete excitedly says, “but these fans in Las Vegas—Johnny’s own hometown—has completely turned against him!” “How can you support such a blatant sign of disrespect!?” cries Riley. “The Barracuda has devoted himself to these fans! He lives for these people, and now they turn their back on him when he needs them the most!? This is absurd!” “The demon has finally reared its ugly head and I’m glad that these fans are wise enough to stand united against this kind of villainy!” shouts Comet. “It’s obvious that what we’re seeing here tonight is something that’s been long in the making! We’ve seen the obsession that Johnny has with the World Title and we’ve seen the strained relation it’s caused for Wild and Dangerous. It was only a matter of time before Johnny Dangerous, the villain, emerged!” “He never turned against anyone though,” argues Riley. “All he’s done is compete in a match in a manner no different than we’ve seen Ejiro Fasaki compete in and they have turned against him! They have left their hero high and dry and if they’ll do that to Johnny Dangerous just imagine what they’d do to someone else!” Johnny, his eyes simply aghast, slowly rises to his feet. He couldn’t possibly be hearing these fans—his fans—correctly! He strolls to the side of the ring and just looks out at the crowd incredulously, only to realize that his worst nightmare had in deed come true. The people he did everything for are standing on their feet and chanting against him… they had turned their back on him! As the realization sinks in his blood begins to boil. He grabs onto the ropes with a white-knuckle grip, furrows his brow, and clenches down on his teeth firmly before finally cutting loose with a rage-educed, infuriated roar against his people! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Violently shaking the ropes, Johnny’s emotions begin to take over. He doesn’t even realize his opponent behind him beginning to stir or even when he finally gets back up to a vertical base. Fasaki quickly tries to shake his head of the cobwebs, noticing the opportunity to not only strike…but to win standing before him! Ejiro only takes a second to register this before suddenly racing forward towards the edge of the ring, coming in directly behind Johnny, and catching the Barracuda as he turns around with a ROLLING ELBOW~! CRACK! “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” “YES!” exclaims Comet. “Citizen Fasaki has yet to give up – he’s still determined to prove Agent Dangerous wrong!” Johnny staggers backwards holding the side of his elbow and the World Champion gives chase, pulling Johnny’s hand away from his face and burying his knuckles into the Barracuda’s face! WHAM! Johnny, dazed, staggers back, and Ejiro races around him, putting his back to Dangerous’ as he reaches around for his opponent’s forehead, looking for a quick neckbreaker! But before he can get a firm grasp on the Barracuda, Johnny slides down and spins out of harms reach. Fasaki quickly spins on his heel--he isn’t about to put his back to this opponent and not expect an attack-- but when he spins around… SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Johnny unloads with a series of eye-watering knife-edged chops, lighting up the Champion’s chest and backing him all the way into the far ropes! Ejiro howls in agony while holding dearly to his beet-red chest, and offers up no defense to the Barracuda as he is grabbed by his arm, “-and the Barracuda is on the warpath!” exclaims Bobby Riley. “I don’t think Ejiro was expecting this much of a fight when he raced in on him and caught him by surprise! He thought he had the Barracuda exactly where he wanted him but he was wrong!” Johnny steps forward and slings the World Champion diagonally across the ring, sending Ejiro Fasaki back first into the unforgiving steel post! CRACK! “OOOOH!” The crowd winces at the impact as Rule crunches into the turnbuckles then staggers out of the corner; one hand gripping his back while the other still nurses his sore neck. He unintentionally stumbles right into the Barracuda’s path, and like before, offers no defense to his opponent as he is taken by the arm and whipped into the adjacent post, and this time Johnny gives chase! However, showing that he isn’t subduing to his less than worthy opponent just yet, Ejiro vaults up to the top of the turnbuckle and springs off, twisting in mid-air… KA-RAAAACK! But Johnny manages to beat Fasaki to the punch once more, lashing out with a lighting-quick spinning heel kick as the Champion comes sailing towards him, blasting him in mid-air! ”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “WHOA!” Riley excitedly shouts, as the fans unleash more jeers. “What a hit! I can’t believe it! Johnny Dangerous has turned the tides of this match back around again, and in doing so has completely decimated the World Heavyweight Champion…AGAIN!” Johnny drops to his knees and heaves himself over his opponent, covering for… ONE!!! TWO!!!!!! THR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! Before Herrington can even begin the motion of the final count, Fasaki thrusts his shoulder off the mat! The crowd roars in cheers and Johnny silently damns the situation, but he quickly goes back to his task at hand. He grabs the Champion and drags him up by his scalp, then thrusts his knee into the World Champion’s gut! Ejiro doubles over, grimacing as he clenches his midsection, and Johnny ducks down and shoots the legs, hauling his opponent onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The crowd is on the edge of their seats, roaring out against their local hero as Johnny looks out to them with Fasaki draped over his shoulders, still appalled by their sudden turn against him. But if they want to boo him he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give them something to boo for and the Barracuda takes a single step forward… then flips forward… WHAAAM!! …and drills Ejiro back-first into the canvas with a colossal thud! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “Spinal Exploder!” calls Comet. “Johnny takes another shot to Citizen Fasaki’s back, and I don’t know how much more of this abuse the Champion can take!” Still holding onto Rule, Johnny rolls up to his knees and stands once more with Fasaki still draped over his shoulders and then flips forward for a second Spinal Exploder, drilling the World Champion into the canvas! “Oh, he can take plenty alright,” hisses Bobby. “There isn’t enough punishment he could take that would possibly justify him stealing the Barracuda’s crowd from him! He deserves everything he gets for this one!” “It’s not his fault!” snaps Comet, “Citizen Fasaki came out here and won the support of the fans with his never quit attitude along with Agent Dangerous malevolent deeds out here tonight!” Johnny drops down to pin his opponent - He grabs Fasaki’s leg and rolls back on it, firmly pinning the Champion’s shoulder’s to the mat as the referee drops down to count for… ONE!! TWO!!! THR-NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Ejiro kicks out, but Johnny doesn’t give him any room to recover. Snatching the World Champion by his head, Johnny starts to pull him up… and suddenly gets rolled up into a pin! “ROLL UP! HE’S GOT ‘EM!” Herrington dives to count as Ejiro pushes down with everything he’s got for… ONE!! TWO!!! THR-NOOOOO!!!!!! Johnny kicks out, but just barely! He scrambles to the edge of the ring, frantically breathing from nearly having been outsmarted by the World Champion as Ejiro stalks after him like a madman! It’s not hard to tell that the World Champion is more than just pissed, he’s absolutely livid, and rightfully so after the amount of cheating he’s had to endure from his Challenger. He grabs around Johnny’s waist from behind, and pulls him in… only to eat an elbow to the side of his head! CRACK! Ejiro roars in rage as he stumbles to the side, holding his head, until the Barracuda grabs his arm and pulls it away, then thunders his open fist straight into Fasaki’s head, right between the eyes, with a vicious Shotei Palmstrike! THH-WAACK! The crowd rises to their collective feet, watching wide-eyed as the World Heavyweight Champion staggers backwards and Johnny rushes in, scooping the Champion off his feet… “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII SLAAAAAAAM~!” Riley exclaims as Comet and Pete both shake their respective heads. WHAM! ”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “MI SLAM! MI SLAM! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!” exclaims Riley, as Ejiro remains motionless on the mat after having his neck-and-shoulders drilled into the canvas and the crowd goes utterly mad! Johnny crawls over his opponent with the knowledge firmly implanted in his mind that he has won…and he makes the cover! “This can’t be happening!” cries Pete. “After all the determination and will that Ejiro Fasaki has given up tonight this should have been a new beginning for his reign as World Heavyweight Champion!” “It’s a new beginning alright,” snickers Bobby, “but not for Ejiro Fasaki’s reign!” ONEEEEEE!!!!! TWOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! Ejiro kicks out, however weakly, but with only half a nanosecond to spare! Absolutely livid by his inability to put the Champion away, Johnny audibly damns Fasaki and pounds his fists into the mat! Johnny gets up to his feet and yells at Rule to “GET UP” while motioning with his hand for the Champion to stand. Dangerous waits as Fasaki slowly pushes up to his hands and knees as the fans try to warn the World Champion against standing, seeing Johnny crouching down and readying his deadly Johnny Kick, but despite their efforts Rule pushes up to his knees…and then stands to his feet, looking rather stunned as he gets to a vertical base. He cautiously turns around… “JOHNNY KICK!” shouts Riley as the Barracuda steps forward and sends his foot shooting through the air towards the World Champion’s face, but Ejiro suddenly springs to life and narrowly dodges the kick to a thunderous cheer! Having missed his intended target, Dangerous is left off balance and unable to stop Rule from grabbing around his waist and lifting him up… WHAM! “RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” …and sending Johnny to the mat with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! “Fasaki has just nailed the Barracuda with a sure fire tide-turner,” says Pete, “but it took everything he had! Ejiro Fasaki is too winded to get up!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” “E-JIR-O!” The crowd chants for the World Champion but he still lies motionless next to his challenger, who is finally down for the count. Herrington steps forward, ready to deliver a count, when Ejiro Fasaki thunders his arm into the air and lets out a vociferous howl! He pushes up to his feet, staggers slightly to the side, and then pumps his arm out to the fans before making his way to the turnbuckles. “What’s Citizen Fasaki doing!?” questions Comet. “He’s got the Barracuda in quite the precarious position and I don’t think he is in any position to try and take this to the skies—he needs to stay grounded!” “It could be all that he needs to end this madness though,” argues Pete. Ejiro steps out to the apron and glides towards the corner, climbs the post, checks to make sure Dangerous is still down, and then launches himself from the top of the post! Fasaki brings his elbow way out as he sails through the air and down onto Johnny, nailing him with a huge elbow drop! WHAM! “And Citizen Fasaki hits that hanging elbow! This one’s done for!” ONE! TWO!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Back down on the casino floor, amongst the everyday patrons of the hotel, the stocky figure of one Todd Cortez is instantly recognisable to the wrestling fans of the world as he strolls past the vast rows of slot machines with his gaze scanning around. Cortez certainly looks the part, in a crisp navy blue suit over which his gold chain and cross hangs. But, quite obviously, The Urban Legend isn't overly concerned with fitting into the crowd. He'd rather fight man to man than out of the proverbial bushes. As yet though, even after a good couple of minutes pacing the floors, Cortez has yet to find his opponent. Probably, because he is skulking and sneaking around in another part of the vast casino, picked out by a second camera and apparantly in no mood to be found. Nervously glancing all around, Landon Maddix continues his sneaking...being extra cautious as he emerges from behind a group of chatting yuppies and losing some of his cover temporarily. Unlike Cortez, Maddix's suit isn't neccessarily 'crisp'. Infact, with a black suit with red pinstripes, not to mention his 'salmon' -- not pink, honest -- shirt, Maddix looks quite the doofus. Indeed, it's quite the suit to be wearing if you're trying to blend in with normal people. For now though, Maddix seems safe and as he passes a busy table, The Next Generation takes a detour and finds one table that isn't quite so crowded. "Excuse me." Maddix sounds out, the dealer at the table glancing up little more than an inch while shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. "I don't suppose you've had any little Mexicans walking around asking if they'd seen a Landon Maddix, have you?" "No sir." "Good. So, uhm...what are we playing?" "Blackjack, sir." Musing for a moment, Maddix takes a glance to his left, then to his right. No sign of Cortez. And, presumably, time enough for a quick game. "Alright, deal me in." Maddix finally says, making sure to keep his voice down and to keep an eye out around him. Sitting himself at the table, Maddix smiles at the young women next to her, who promptly turns her nose up at the young 'ruffian' with the crappy dress sense. "Uhm, hi. So...uh, what are the rules of this 'Black Jack' then?" Groans go up all around Maddix. "What?" Meanwhile, Todd Cortez is still pacing around in search of his opponent. The look on The Urban Legend's face indicates that if and when he finally does find Landon Maddix, the results aren't going to be pretty. Turning a corner, Cortez gets away from the flashing slot machines and into a more open part of the floor, giving him a better chance to scan around the casino floor. Still there seems to be no sign of Maddix yet though. Growing frustrated, Cortez quickly pulls a waiter aside as he passes by. "I don't suppose you've seen anyone suspicious walking around here?" Cortez asks quickly. "Probably sir...after all, this is Las Vegas. What does he look like?" Cortez clearly has ideas of how to reply, but they wouldn't exactly be 'helpful'. "Well, he's got girly blonde hair, no dress sense...possibly swaggering." "Are you Todd Cortez?" "Yeah...why?" "Oh, well, I have seen someone that kinda matches that description. He told me that if anyone named Todd Cortez asked after him, that he would be waiting for him in the parking lot." Cortez nods. "Thing is, he went the wrong way. See, the parking lot is that way..." explains the waiter, pointing off in one direction. "...but, he ran off that wa...oh, hey, there he is!" The waiter points off to his right, Cortez glancing over and spotting the long, flowing locks of La Cucaracha being flicked away from his eye region over at a sparsely populated Blackjack table. Snarling under his breath, Cortez wrings his hands, knowing that he's close. The waiter goes to walk off, but suddenly Cortez stops him again, grabbing one of the glasses off of his tray. "Any alcohol in this?" "Uhm...yes, but that's been paid fo..." Cortez tosses the contents of the glass over his head, drenching one patron behind him...before striding off in Maddix's direction, glass in hand. "Hit me." "Sir, you don't have to say hit me. You just have to signal." The dealer, growing noticeably weary, motions the 'tap' that people who know what they're doing would use to indicate a hit. Maddix takes note, looking at his cards and tapping the table. The woman next to Maddix groans, mumbling "Stick." under her breath, while Maddix muses over his cards. "So...how much is a Queen worth?" "10, sir." sighs the dealer. "And, the suits have nothing to do with scores?" "For the last time, no...sir." Displaying his best poker face, Maddix beams from ear to ear as he lays down his cards. The 8 of diamons, 3 of clubs and a Queen of clubs...giving him, of course, a grand total of 21. "I think I'll stick." More murmurs of discontent go up around the table, as Maddix continues to beam away. As the other players fold, the dealer begins returning Maddix his original bet, together with his small but collectable winnings. "Heh...must be my lucky day, eh?" "Think again." In the process of collecting up his chips, Maddix freezes in shock, recognising the growling voice behind him. The voice of Todd Cortez, standing over Maddix and waiting for him to turn around. Still frozen, Maddix slowly begins to scoop his chips up, dumping them safely in his pocket, before turning around...and getting nailed with a big right from Todd! Up into the air flies Maddix, tumbling back over the table and wiping out the dealer in the process. Screams sound out around the table as Cortez quickly scampers around to meet Maddix as he picks himself up, grabbing Maddix behind the head and SLAMMING him face-first into the green cloth of the table! Maddix ends up spread-eagled over the table, caught unprepared by Cortez's attack. The Urban Legend could care less though, as he reaches back into his dress pants' pocket, pulling the empty glass out... *SMASH!* ...and smashing it over the back of Maddix's head!! Another set of screams can be hear from the growing crowd, assembling around this crazy brawl starting up, as shards of glass fly off of The Next Generation's head and across the casino. The dealer has finally picked himself up, dusting himself off and getting the hell away. Meanwhile, Cortez comes back to the front of the table. Again the face of Maddix gets bumped off the table, before The Urban Legend applies a front facelock, reaching behind and suplexing Maddix off of his stomach, over onto the hard floor of the casino! "AAAAHHHHHHHH!" "This is just the beginning, you son of a bitch!" yells Cortez as he gets to his knees beside the writhing Maddix, reaching down and primatively gouging at Maddix's eyes!! Eventually, Maddix scrambles free and tries to crawl away. Cortez is right on his tail though. Literally, grabbing the tails of Maddix's over eleborate suit to pull him back before slamming a boot to the back of the head. Still the only thing on Landon's mind is to escape, while Cortez grabs him by the hair, pulling his opponent slowly to his feet. Cortez fires a knee into the gut, following up with a stiff European uppercut. Able to stay on his feet somehow, Maddix is in the process of begging off, as Cortez grabs his arm, irish whipping Maddix forwards... ...but Maddix reverses the whip, sending Cortez hurtling forwards and hard into the blackjack table!! As the edge of the wooden table catches him directly in the gut, Cortez goes hurtling over the top of the table, sliding all the way over the back and out of sight, taking all the remnaints and the cloth on the table with him. Relief is clear on Landon Maddix's face as he groggily stumbles backwards into the crowd, using one elderly man as a leaning post to stay on his feet while he tries to regain his bearings. Once he does so though, he shoves the man away, earning himself some insta heel heat~! in the process. "You see..." begins Maddix, long-winded even in the middle of a fight. "...biased as I may be, that seemed pretty lucky to me." Maddix staggers away from the crowd of people, pressing his hand to the back of his head to check for any blood from the glass. "Now then, what we have here, is a...AAAAH!!" Suddenly, Maddix wails in pain as a good dozen multi-coloured plastic chips hurtle into his face. Maddix instictively covers up his face as another bunch of chips fly through the air. While he's covered up, Todd Cortez suddenly emerges back from behind the table and dives frontwards across the wood, grabbing his right arm around Maddix's head and throwing furious lefts into the side of his head. Driven by rage, any injures Cortez had picked up from his flight over the table are of no concern to him right now as he fires away repeatedly. Maddix attempts to drag himself away, Cortez clinging onto his makeshift headlock and ending up sliding on his back across the table until he lands his feet on the floor. Still throwing lefts, Cortez knocks Maddix to his knees, before turning to his side in search of something to use as a weapon. Not finding anything though, Cortez decides to use his hands as his weapons, popping Maddix with a left. Followed up with a straight kick to the gut. Landon doubles over, Cortez quickly grabbing him by the pants and the hair, hurling him forwards and sending people scattering as Maddix tumbles out towards the crowds. "Yeah!" shouts one over-enthusiastic fan. "Kick his ass...uhm...er...guy!" "It's Todd." "Yeah, Todd, WHOO! Lay the smackdown on him, yeah! Word Life!" Shuddering, Cortez brushes past the fan... ...leaving himself open, for Maddix to lunge forward, firing his forearm between The Urban Legend's legs with a desperation lowblow! Groans from those around mask the groans of Todd Cortez, toppling over to the casino floor with his eyes bugged open in a mixture of shock and breathlessness. Maddix meanwhile drags himself to his feet, looking down at Cortez with a wry smirk...before slamming the heel of his dress shoe into Cortez's forehead. And again. With Cortez temporarily dazed, Maddix quickly grabs Cortez's legs and lifts them into the air, spreading him eagle. "Tell Megan, this one's for her." Maddix then reels his leg back, before dropping his knee into Cortez's lower regions!! Cortez writhes in agony, leaving the masses standing around to groan in empathetic pain. "You're nothing Cortez!" *WHAM!* "Nothing! You hear me!?!" *WHAM!* "Where's Mike to save your ass, huh!?!" *WHAM!* The flat of Maddix's boot slams into Cortez's forehead three more times, each digging in a little more an opening up a small but noticeable cut just above his right eye. Morbid curiousity has brought more and more people over to watch as this fight rages on, but they're soon scurrying off again, as Maddix pushes them aside and jogs out of sight across the floor. A few watch him go, others looking on in concern while Todd Cortez pulls himself slowly back up to his feet. Blood begins to flow a little more freely from his cut as he pulls himself up, checking for any war wounds and finding a red line across the length of his palm. Needless to say, that doesn't exactly lighten Cortez's mood. "Alright...let's fucking do this." growls Cortez under his breath, staggering off into the people in search of Landon Maddix, his lower extremeties apparantly still hampering him a little. All the same, Cortez limps on. Maddix has gotten out of sight, much to Cortez's frustration, kicking out at empty air. On walks Cortez more. But little does he know that behind him, Maddix is pushing aside patrons, holding in his hands the rake thing (even if it has a name, I'm sure nobody cares) used to clear larger tables. Cortez is oblivious, people merging into each other in the busy crowd. But, then again, it does seem odd that everyone behind him is moving out of the way... *SNAP!* Maddix suddenly lunges forward, breaking the small rake type thing across the back of Cortez!! Completely blindsighted, The Urban Legend collapses. A couple of worried casino-goers try to check on Cortez, presumably unaware that this is a wrestling match and not an impromptu fight that no-ones bothering to break up. Maddix shoves them out of the way though, yelling at them to "keep out of the god-damn way", before rolling Cortez hurriedly onto his back, making a pin attempt... ...no referee. "...shit!" curses Maddix, causing one elderly gentleman's monocle to fall into his martini glass. "I KNEW I forgot something." "What are you doing? Kick him!" shouts one clearly confused man, having just arrived and seeing Maddix laying on top of his opponent. Maddix just ignores him though, trying to look past the scores of people around him for a referee. "IS THERE A REFEREE IN HERE!?!" Maddix finally resorts to yelling, getting no response, much to his disgust. "Okay, okay...IS ANYONE WEARING ANYTHING STRI..." Smiling, Maddix stops, looking down at his stripey suit jacket. And, without warning, he hurriedly pulls it from his torso, before pulling forwards a younger looking man from the crowd. "Here, put this on." "Wha...dude, not even! No way." "Why not?" "Well, look at it man. It's horrible, dude. Almost as bad as the pink shirt." "Look, just shut up and put it on!" yells Maddix, thrusting the jacket into the guy's arms. "And, for the record...it's not pink, it's salmon!" The guy scoffs, but after more encouragement from Maddix, begins to try and fit the jacket, despite a noteable size difference between himself. As he does so, Maddix drops to his knees beside Cortez, ready to re-attempt a pinfall. By now though, Cortez has recovered and picked up the half of the rake thingy that fell beside him, picking it up in his right hand and swinging out...cracking Maddix between the eyes!! Landon falls back clutching his face, all the excuse the unnamed guy needs to toss the jacket away and bail from the scene. Meanwhile, Cortez drags himself back up. If he wasn't pissed before, he certainly is now. Turning his head to the side, Cortez mouths the word "Move"...and nobody in the crowd is stupid enough to argue, all parting to the side. Cortez meanwhile grabs Maddix by the hair and drags him to his feet, gripping the hair in his hand tightly and twisting, leaving Maddix powerless to get away without pulling his precious hair out by the roots. "Still feeling lucky?" Suddenly, Cortez breaks into a run. Maddix has no choice but to run with him, the two making good ground and going a good nine or ten feet, before Cortez suddenly hurls Maddix forwards. Punters at the table immediately in front wail and dive for cover, as Landon flies past and OVER them, landing with a brutal thud on the green roulette table in front of him!! Chips fly upwards and to the side, Maddix skidding forward and bringing up the nice cloth. Cortez meanwhile walks casually (or, casually as possible) over to the table, sitting down as if nothing untoward is going on and looking up at the gawping worker standing at the roulette wheel. "Gimme this fucker on 17." "Uh...uhm, sir...we...we don't take...human bets." "Fine..." sighs Cortez, reaching into Maddix suit pants and tipping his previously collected chips out. "...put these on 17 then. And, if I lose, you can take the fucker anyway." With a shrug, the worker spins the wheel. While he's waiting, Cortez decides to reach forward and club Maddix with a forearm shot to the kidneys. The ball rolls around the wheel for what seems to be an age, long enough for Cortez to impatiently forearm Maddix's lower back again, before finally settling...on 6. Looking to his side at the wheel, Cortez shrugs his shoulders with a wry smirk. "Ah well...you win some, you lose some." Cortez shimmies around the table, over to where Maddix's head is pressed against the side of the table, which seems to have the slightest of dents in it. With hold of the hair again, Cortez pulls Maddix so that he's sitting on hands and knees, before reeling back and cracking Maddix with a hard right to the temple. Landon tumbles backwards across the table and ends up right where Todd had just come from. Not that that particularly worries The Urban Legend, as he decides to ease himself up and onto the roulette table with Maddix...making sure the table will support his and his opponent's weight before reach down, grabbing some more hair, tugging Landon up and teetering ever so slightly on the table. Some chips under Cortez's feet prompt him to stop, kicking them away to prevent any risk of slipping on the plastic disks, before hooking up a front facelock on La Cucaracha. Stepping around cautiously, Cortez turns so that he's facing lengthways across the table, with more table to land on as he grabs Maddix's tights, setting him up for a vertical suplex. Cortez gets Maddix up a few inches, but the frantic kicking of Landon's legs prevents him from taking the move all the way over. Trying again, The Urban Legend gets the same result. So he stops, releasing Maddix in order to club him over the back a couple of times. Suitably weakened, Maddix slumps again, prompting Cortez to begin to pull him up again... ...but suddenly, he experiences a little mortal rigor mortis, as Maddix gives him a firm, swift punch between the legs and in the balls!! Eyes bursting open, Todd collapses forward over Landon's shoulder and curls up into a fetal position, right beside Maddix who wipes the hair from his eyes...dropping a fistful of chips out of his right hand with a smirk. "Man...Megan's really gonna be disappointed when you get back, eh Todd." chuckles Maddix breathlessly, flicking his hair away again and rolling off of the table and onto the safe casino floor. "Say, she's in Room 49, right?" "How...the fuc.." "Woah, woah, save your breath Todd." smiles Maddix, stepping back as Todd agonisingly swings a wild fist back at him. "Save your breath. How do I know? I've got my sources Todd. Say, did she come down to watch you get your ass kicked, or has she gone back to her room?" Cortez growls in pain, trying to get up but failing. "Thought so. She's probably feeling pretty lonely right now. And, uh...obviously, you'll be in no shape to tend to her when you get back." "You son...of a...fucking bitch." "Big words for such a small, insignificant man Todd." As Cortez continues to try and fight back up, Maddix quickly fires off a forearm strike across the cut over his right hand. "Now, seeing as you'll be in no shape...maybe I should go pay her a visit." "You..bastard." "Yep, that's me." chuckles Maddix. "I'll tell her you said 'Hi'." With a smirk, Maddix decides to leave Cortez with a last parting shot...but Cortez manages to block the right hand, catching Maddix's right wrist in his hand! Shocked, Landon has no time to react, before Cortez suddenly yanks down, slamming Landon's arm over the side of the table!! A howl of pain escapes Maddix as he collapses out of sight, the camera rushing around the side to see Maddix rolling around in agony, clutching his arm and continuing to howl in pain. Both Maddix and Cortez are down, both hurting and both unable to capitalise on the others' injuries... ...as suddenly, the shot cuts to the other side of the casino. Infact, the Poker room. Sat at one of the tables, SWF referee Nicky Soapdish is feverishly scanning across his cards, hand rubbing his chin as he tries to plan out his next move. The others players around the table are similarly deep in concentration. But, unlike Nicky, they're not getting a neck rub from a young beauty in a low-cut, sparkling gold dress. "What'chu think Leila?" whispers Soapdish. "Do I play, or fold." "Well, I'm not sure. But I do know my name isn't Leila. It's Elanor." "Whatever, bitch." quips Soapdish, picking up a large, Cuban cigar from the table and taking a hefty puff. "I'm not paying you to tell me your life story. I'm paying you because I don't want to lose all my money. That, and the neck rub. Which, by the way, is pretty super." "Why, thank you Nick." "I told you, call me Lord Powerwang!" "Sorry...Lord Powerwang." "Better. Now, what do you think I should do?" "Well, if you play, that guy with the beard is going to beat you." Soapdish glances up from his cards and across the table. Sitting directly opposite him, an old man with a large, scraggly grey beard has his best Poker face on. He must be feeling pretty confident, knowing the hand he has. But then again, he hasn't reckoned on Nick Soapdish. "What's he got?" "Straight Flush." "He has?" Soapdish strains, still under his breath so as not to be heard. Looking up, he glances at the man again, before putting back up his cards. "Are you sure? If I had a Straight Flush, I'd look a lot happier 'bout it than he does." "Yes...and that's why you're paying me, remember. So you don't lose again." "...good point." whispers Soapdish one last time, before sounding up again so all can hear. "Yeah, I fold." Suddenly, the door to the Poker Room opens and in rushes another noticeable figure. The figure of SWF referee Eddy Long, tapping Soapdish on the shoulder. Wheeling around, Soapdish glares at Long, who starts to gesticulate like mad (yeah, re-read it, dirty minded perverts). "Nick, we need a ref for the Casino Brawl. You'll have to get out there!" "Well, why can't you do it!?!" "I'm busy." "So am I, incase you hadn't notice." Long glances at the table. "How much have you lost?" "I'm winning, actually. Why can't the other two do it?" Cut to John Trudel and Matthew Kivell, tied up crudely with rope on a hotel bed and giggling like schoolgirls, while two blondes stroll around the bed brandishing small whips. "They're...busy too." replies Long sheepishly. Groaning, Soapdish stands up and sighs. "Fine. But I swear, if Maddix tries anything...where are they anyway?" "Last I saw, they were fighting on a roulette table somewhere. They're heading south though, so just head for the lobby. You're bound to find them eventually." "Right." Soapdish jogs off out of sight, the sound of the door to the Poker Room shutting behind him. Eddy watches on for a moment, before sitting in the vacated seat and kicking his feet up on the table in front, glancing up at the glamourous woman hovering over him. "So, what's your name, sweetcheeks?" Back on the casino floor meanwhile, the fight has re-started, with Maddix now giving up all existing will to fight Cortez and now resorting to trying to get the hell away again. Cortez is in hot pursuit of Maddix, who clutches his right arm with his left, Cortez still showing effects of the numerous lowblows as he limps ever so slightly in his pursuit. The two reach some more slot machines on their rampage through the casino, sending more and more people running for cover, but still managing to attract a lot of the patrons, like pied pipers to their fight. Cortez catches up with Landon and grabs him by the arm, turning him towards a machine and SLAMMING the arm down across the front! Trying to get away, Maddix gets grabbed again...this time, Cortez swinging the arm into the side of the outermost of the machines, the *thud* echoing around the nearby area. "Now, THIS is for Megan..." growls Cortez, as he grabs Maddix's arm again and whips it around into the side of the machine a second time! Slumping down, Maddix sits against the side of the machine clutching his arm. Taking a series of backsteps, a determined smile appears on The Urban Legend's face, lining up Maddix before diving forwards, firing both feet into Landon's gut with a low dropkick! Maddix seems to be out and hurt. But with no referee, Cortez doesn't even bother about thinking of a pinfall, instead backing up and fixing his sights on dishing out some more punishment. "And THIS..." Cortez growls again, as Maddix realises he's in trouble and tries to pull himself up. "...THIS is just because I hate your damn guts!" Stooping low, Cortez is just waiting on Landon now as The Next Generation slowly brings himself to his feet. Using the machine to keep himself upright, Landon is back up. Cortez quickly sees him coming and sprints forward, diving forwards with the HOLLOW POOOOOOOOIIIINNTT... *THUD!* ...BUT MADDIX MOVES, CORTEZ CRASHING HEAD AND SHOULDER-FIRST INTO THE SIDE OF THE MACHINE!! Cortez slides slowly down the side of the machine, face pressed against the glowing, whirring hunk of metal and plastic, seeing stars. The cut above his right eye has opened up considerably now, as Maddix has the chance to once again try and create some distance between himself and Urban Legend. But, with Cortez hurting, bleeding, snoozing...Maddix decides that he might as well take his chance to beat on Cortez some more. Quickly he pushes the flat of his fancy shoe against Cortez's temple, s l o w l y raking across from the side, with an agonising 'boot'scrape that leaves Cortez cringing in pain and the blood begins trickling down his eyebrow that bit heavier. "Come on Todd...don't tell me you're done already." The mocking tone in Maddix's voice infuriates Cortez, enough to prompt him to try and get back up again. Maddix is waiting though, catching Todd on the way up, grabbing him across the head and slamming his head backwards into the machine's side, with another dull *THUD*. "Is that all you've got, Toddy?" sneers Maddix once more, to the half conscious Urban Legend. "You're nothing without me! You're nothing without Van Siclen." Maddix kneels down, getting face to face with his hated rival. "YOU..ARE..NOTHING!!" *PPHT* Suddenly, Landon recoils, with a faceful of Cortez's phlegm! Wiping the spit from his face, a vile, sick expression takes over La Cucaracha's face, looking down at his now spit-covered hand and growling in disgust. Behind him, Cortez is still trying defiantly to get back up. Maddix quickly spins on his heels though and suddenly rams the flat of his boot into Cortez's forehead, crushing his head against the machine once more! Back to his seat slumps Cortez, while Maddix reaches above the machine, picking up a cup full of quarters that one terrified gambler had left behind. Slowly, Todd is allowed to pull himself up again, Maddix just waiting on him as he leans into the machine to stay upright, gaining his bearings and turning around... *CRACK!* ...and Maddix smashes the full cup of metal directly into the forehead of Cortez!! The Urban Legend collapses instantly, eyes rolling into the back of his head, as some of the braver casino-goers scamper over to collect some loose quarters that flew from the cup on impact. "Just like I said...nothing." The smirk on Landon's face is almost as bright and illuminated as the flashing machines in front of him, as he confidently pulls the dazed Cortez off the casino floor, having to literally hold Todd up at the moment. The right arm of The Next Generation is still bothering and he seems to have a nasty but not too deep cut on his right bicep. But he ignores the pain and sits Cortez down on a stool in front of the beaten up slot machine. Cortez almost slumps over the back, but Maddix holds him upright. Stepping back, Landon measures The Urban Legend...but, with his right arm hurting, Landon has to swtich to his left... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...for a knifedge chop. Cortez, already having trouble sitting upright, promptly collapses over the back of the stool like a drunkard, landing hard on the back of his head. Meanwhile, the confused Maddix is wondering who in the hell in a casino would know to shout WHOOO for a chop. The answer? Nicky Soapdish. "Just adding a little atmosphere." smiles Soapdish, as he emerges through the crowd to commence his refereeing duties. "Yeah, well, how about you add some atmosphere by counting some pinfalls, douche?" "Sure thing..." smiles Soapdish, waiting for Maddix to walk away from him before muttering under his breath. "...bitch." Maddix meanwhile walks back over to the fallen Cortez. Picking up the stool from which Todd had just fallen, Landon turns the stool upside down so that the seat is facing down towards his opponent...before DRIVING it down into Cortez's sternum! The soft seat absorbs some of the blow, but Maddix still has enough force behind him to do some damage, as he drives the stool down into the sternum a second time! Cortez is motionless now. So Maddix decides to toss the stool to his side, dropping down onto Cortez with a lateral press... "ONE!" "TWO" "TH... NO, NO, ONLY TWO LANDON!" Glaring to his side, Maddix stares a hole through Soapdish. "Just my luck to get YOU as an official again." "Nice shirt by the way." smiles Soapdish, pretending not to hear Maddix. Ignoring his least favourite referee of the moment, Landon again drags Cortez to his feet. The Urban Legend isn't beat yet, firing off a desperation right hand as he reaches his knees. Doubling over, Maddix pauses for a moment...but eventually shakes himself back to life, firing up a short kneelift on Cortez. Head snapping back, the force of the knee sends Cortez rolling backwards and over onto his front, laying face down on the floor and looking dead to the world. Pulling himself up, Landon breathes a short sigh of relief, before glaring at Soapdish again. "Before you say anything...it's salmon, not pink." Maddix then charges forward and boots Cortez in the back of the head, leaving Soapdish to wonder why someone would even pretend pink was salmon, when everyone knows salmon is orange. But he keeps his opinions to himself, sticking to his refereeing job, as Landon slides across the floor, a basement dropkick catching Cortez in the right side of the head. Blood now stains the casino floor, from the wound over Todd's head. Maddix nonchalantly slides his foot under Todd's body like a spatula, flipping him over onto his back. Still looking completely dazed, Cortez somehow finds some semblance of awareness as he tries to get back to his feet. Maddix puts a stop to that though, grabbing a second stool and using it in the same way as the first, dropping it top down into Cortez's sternum. Satisfied that Cortez hurt enough, Maddix now sits the stool back where it was, in front of one of the machines. Turning around, it seems The Next Generation has Cortez right where he wants him. But for some reason, he doesn't go for a pin. Instead, after testing the stool for 'wobbliness', Maddix carefully begins to climb onto the stool. The people gathered around look on in confusion, as Maddix gets up onto the stool, just about keeping his balance...as he places on foot on the slot machine in front of him. "What are you doing!?!" wails an elderly, blue-rinse slot jockey on the machine opposite, looking up in shock at this man climbing the machines, but not in enough shock to stop pumping quarters into her machine. "What does it look like? I'm going up!" "Get down ya stupid kid! You're bad luck!" "Would you mind shutting your damn mouth?" snaps Maddix in response, little realising that behind him, Todd Cortez is stirring. "Balancing on these things is hard enough, without having some crazy old biddy mouthing off at me! Doesn't the old folks home close soon? Stupid old bi...WOAH!" Suddenly, Maddix loses his footing as Todd Cortez is up, snatching the stool from underneath Maddix's left leg! Maddix manages to grip onto the machine and hang on, placing his left on the machine as well but still looking mighty precarious. Infact, there's nothing he can do, except hang on, as Cortez adjusts his grip on the stool and swings it like a damn ball bat.. *CRACK!* ...CAUSING THE LEGS TO SNAP, CRACK AND POP OVER MADDIX'S SPINE LIKE A CERTAIN BREAKFAST CEREAL!!!! The gathered crowd gasp as Maddix's back arches. No longer able to hang onto the slot machine, Maddix falls backwards and to the casino floor once more, writhing agonisingly, unable to lay flat due to the spasms in his back. Standing over him, Cortez holds the upper half of the stool in his hands...the lower half broken clean off. Useless to him now. So, he turns and passes the remnaints to a nearby 'fan'. "Here...have a seat." *canned laughter* With Maddix clearly hurt once more, Cortez takes the time to re-check his cut. Blood continues to trickle freely from the wound over his right eye, causing some impaired vision on the right side. A little cut isn't going to stop Cortez now though. Far from it. It's only going to fire him up more, as he reaches down and grasps Maddix's flowing mane, dragging his opponent up from the canvas. Furiously, Cortez wipes some more blood from his brow...and smearing it over Maddix previously pristine salmon colour shirt. Cortez then reels back and nails a vicious right hand, sending Landon staggering backwards. And, the fight is on the move again, down the rows and rows of slot machines as Cortez stays right on Maddix's tail and nails him with another right hand! Maddix collapses and tumbles past some more machines, sending more people scurrying for cover, leaving more people wondering what the hell is going on and why nobody is doing a thing to stop it. Soapdish stays close to the action, as Maddix gets to his knees and desperately begins to beg off, looking for some sort of compassion from Cortez. Cortez is wise to Maddix trickery though, not falling for the begging and BOOTING him flat in the face!! Down goes Maddix, flopping and flailing like a fish out of water, worried about his dashing good looks. Cortez is far from worried about them though, grabbing a passing waiter by the scruff of the neck and grabbing his tray of drinks. "Hey!" "Don't worry, just put it on the company bill." *PANG!* Cortez nails Maddix over the head with the tray, the drinks upon it flying haphazardly around but luckily not hitting anyone. A head shaped dent remains in the metal tray, as Cortez tosses it aside, dragging Maddix across the floor by the hair. "Ah...not...not the...hair!" mumbles the groggy Maddix, only prompting Cortez to pull on the hair some more. The slot machines have disappeared now and the brawl has approached the end of the casino, the doors out to the lobby in clear sight now. People out in the lobby can now get a view of the chaos and the wiser of them run for the hills, before the fight can get to them. The rest just stare in amazement, watching the bloody figure of Todd Cortez drag the groggy Landon Maddix to his feet. Scooping low, Cortez lifts Maddix off of his feet, relishing every moment of anticipation...before finally SLAMMING Maddix down onto the cold, hard casino floor to agonising moans from The Next Generation! The back of Landon Maddix is clearly hurting now, still unable to put any sort of pressure on it as he rolls onto his side. Cortez watches intently, in no rush as he waits for Maddix to pull himself back up. "Your ass is mine..." Cortez mumbles under his breath, intently staring at Maddix still. Pulling himself to his feet, Maddix stumbles around with a hand clutched to his spine. Cortez meets him with a right hand, dazing Maddix, before grabbing him by the shirt collar and setting about tearing the shirt to shreds! Trying to get away, Landon only makes it worse and soon enough the shirt is nothing more than a few strands of cotton around the waist of La Cucaracha. *SLAP!* ...allowing Cortez to lash Maddix's chest with a vicious knifedge chop. Maddix gasps for breath, as Cortez opens him up again... *SLAP!* ...putting EVERYTHING he has into a second knifedge. The effects drop Landon to one knee, continuing to gasp and splutter for breath. Todd again grabs some hair to pull Maddix up, opening up his body a third time. This time though, it's for a European uppercut, sending Landon tumbling backwards dramatically, right over towards the doors to the lobby. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere." chastises Cortez as he walks over, grabbing Maddix by the hair to drag him back up. Suddenly though, Maddix shocks him, applying a front chancré and cradling Cortez over with a modified small package... "ONE!" "TWO" "T...TWO COUNT!" signals Soapdish, Maddix unable to keep Cortez cradled. Looking a little dis-orientated for a moment, Cortez goes the wrong way at first, allowing Landon to crawl away a little closer to the door. Pretty soon Cortez has his bearings though, turning quickly to grab Maddix, stopping him from escaping. As he grabs him though, Maddix thinks quickly, yanking back on the arm and irish whipping Cortez forward. But, with a quick turn of the body, Cortez is able to reverse the whip, hurling Maddix forward and towards the doors with tremendous velocity... *CRAAAASH!* ...SENDING MADDIX HEAD-FIRST THROUGH ONE OF THE GLASS PANELS ON THE DOOR!!!!!!!! "AAAAHHHHH! AHHHHHHHAAHAHH!" Falling out of the hole in the glass, the screaming of people in the lobby is not enough to cover the wails of pain on Landon Maddix's part. Holding his head in his hands, Maddix falls to his back and looking in horror as blood begins to trickle from numerous nicks and cuts all over his face, hands and upper torso! Cortez watches on from a few feet away and looks genuinely shocked at what he's done, glancing from the broken door to the quivering La Cucaracha, before back to the door again. "Okay, okay...everyone stay back!" yells Nicky Soapdish finally, through cupped hands, assuming control. "Everyone keep back. You too Cortez." "Ri..right, right." "You okay Landon?" Soapdish kneels at Maddix side, checking on him. Clearly, this isn't a situation Maddix is too used to...and, he can be forgiven for his over-reacting wails and howls. Blood must be coming from at least fifteen to twenty cuts on Maddix's chest alone from the flying shards, while a gruesome gash has been opened up on his forehead, causing deep red blood to just ooze out. Cortez stays back and watches on, the accusing glares of pretty much everyone who saw what happened fixed on him. "Landon...it's okay, it's just a few cuts." assures Soapdish, trying to calm Maddix down. "If you wanna quit, I call this off right now." "A...a..am..." "Okay, okay, slow down." "Am...am I...going to die?" "Or, for crying out loud." Cortez finally groans, shoving Soapdish aside and pulling the drama queen to his feet by the hair. Pushing open a door that's still intact, Cortez continues to tug on the hair as he steps out of the casino, dragging Maddix out into the lobby knees and bloodied hands. Blood continues to drip from Maddix's forehead onto the shiny lobby floor, Maddix actually injured underneath his whiney exterior. But Cortez has had weeks and weeks, waiting for this match, waiting for this moment. And if Maddix is going to wail and scream, then Cortez wants to give him to really wail and scream about. Maddix collapses onto all fours and stops, as Cortez releases the hair, reaching down and yanking Landon's belt off from around his waist. Cortez then hooks the belt under Landon's jaw and around his throat, choking him with the leather strap!! The blood flows a little faster as a result of Maddix's sudden struggle. Cortez is meanwhile over Maddix's back and begins to tie the belt up, creating a makeshift noose with the strap and tightening it up around the neck, leaving La Cucaracha choking and spluttering as he pulls back. The sickening sight of Landon's forehead gushing blood, while being choked with a leather belt causes many watching to turn away in horror and disgust. The blonde mane is growing redder and redder, presumably some cuts opened up on the top of the head as well as the forehead. Cortez meanwhile releases his grip on the belt, little sollace to Maddx who is still being choked by the tied belt. Frantically he pulls the buckle from the notch of the belt to free himself, gasping for much needed breath while staring down in shock at the pool of blood beneath his face. "Landon, do you wanna give up?" Soapdish asks again. The only response he gets is heavy breathing from Maddix, who presumably doesn't hear Soapdish in his dis-orientated, blood losing state. Before he can formulate a response, Cortez walks back over and pulls Maddix to his feet. Cortez then breaks into a run, bringing Landon all the way with him and hurling him head-first into a wall! Slumping against the wall, Landon slides unconsciously down towards the floor, leaving long streaks of bright red blood on the otherwise clean wall. "You brought this on yourself, you son of a bitch!" Cortez reminds his foe as he boots him hard in the gut, Maddix sat with his back to the wall, unable to defend himself. "This is your fault, not mine!" Another boot slams into Landon's mid-drift. "No remorse!" Another boot. "Any means neccessary!" Another boot, as Cortez is now quoting old Martial Law mottos, just to add some insult to considerable injury. "Whatever it takes!" Another boot! And fired up, Cortez snaps away from Landon, a look of sheer intensity on his face as he wipes some of Maddix's blood from his body. Cortez takes another check on his own war wound, seemingly insiginifcant now, compared to the gaping would on Maddix's forehead, but still bothering Todd all the same. Shaking it off, Cortez walks back over and brings the helpess La Cucaracha to his feet. Cortez again cups Maddix behind the head and drags him through the lobby, his destination not clear, as he eventually throws Landon into another part of the wall. This time Maddix recoils and collapses backwards, right at Cortez's feet. Todd looks down and, whether through remorse or not, he drops down and makes his first pin attempt of the match... "ONE!" "TWO" "TH..." CORTEZ PULLS MADDIX UP! "Come on, Todd!" pleads Soapdish. But Cortez ignores him, looking down at Maddix and slowly but surely mouthing something, making sure Landon can clearly distinguish it. "We're not...done...yet." Horror fills the eyes of Maddix again, as Cortez drags him to his feet once more. Still Cortez has Landon cupped behind the head, as he sprints off forward and brings Landon all the way with him once more. With a decorative pot plant sitting by the wall a few feet ahead, Cortez hurls Maddix off... ...but from nowhere, Maddix manages to wheel around and use his momentum to reverse, sending Cortez skidding into the base of the pot, striking the back of his head hard!! Still Landon is breathing heavily, the blood loss affecting him worse than it would someone who's accustomed to bleeding heavily night in and night out. He manages to focus himself though, collapsing over Cortez with a desperate pin attempt... "ONE!" "TWO" "THR...NO, TWO!" Looking up, mouth agape, Maddix is despairing now as he pulls himself up...only to collapse to the side straight away. Now knowing that he's unable to stand, things are even more desperate for The Next Generation as he glances to his side, seeing Todd Cortez recovering. Maddix panics and knows that if he's going to get away, he has to get away NOW, so sets off, crawling frantically through the lobby with all the energy and awareness he has left in him. As Landon crawls away, the camera decides it's best to follow him, jogging down the hallways behind Maddix. Getting a little way down the lobby, Maddix tries to stand and run again, stumbling off groggily to the left before careering back to the right, unable to keep in a straight line as he tries in desperation to get away. Reaching his physical limit seemingly, Maddix drops to his hands and knees, panting breathlessly. He's gotten a decent way down the lobby, through a combination of crawling, staggering and getting thrown around by Cortez. And now, looking to his left, Maddix finally realises where he is. The place he's been for most of the week since arriving in Las Vegas. The salon. "Oh...thank God." Crawling off, Maddix has the Spa, Salon and Fitness Center in his sights and seeming refuge...giving him newfound energy. Back down the lobby, Todd Cortez is back up...but he's lost sight of his opponent, much to his frustration. Soapdish beside Cortez and looks off into the distance. "Where'd he go Nicky." "Well...he went that way, but I lost sight of him." "How could you lose sight of him?" "Well, there's a lot of people around..." "A lot of people bleeding like pigs and wearing stripey pants?" "Good point." "If he's smart, he'll have got in his car and driven as far away as possible." mutters Cortez under his breath, while looking down the lobby for signs of Maddix. As he does so, his gaze lowers to the floor, where a thin trail of blood snakes off down the lobby, in the direction Maddix had staggered. Slowly, Cortez smiles, as he points out the trail to Soapdish. "Let's go." The camera shot suddenly cuts to the inside of the on-site Salon, where everything is calm and quiet for now. That soon changes though, as the bloody figure of Landon Maddix stumbles through the door. Busy working on one woman's hair, a young hairdresser glances up absent-mindedly and doesn't get a good look, but enough of one. "Hi Landon." the girl smiles sweetly, obviously familiar with the SWF's Next Generation. "We weren't expecting you today, what with your match and all. So, how did it go?" "Uhm...well..." "Not good, huh?" the girl sighs, still busy. "Well, don't you worry. We'll sit you down and sort your hair out, you can tell me all about it...after all, that's what we're here for. So, what is it? The usual trim and blow dr...OH MY GOD!!" *CLANG* The horrified hairdresser finally looks up and, seeing Maddix bleeding profusely and lounged (read: collapsed) in a chair motionless, drops her scissors and holds his hands to her mouth in shock. Maddix quickly stands up to try and calm her down, only to lose his footing and collapse to his right again. "It's...it's okay." "What happened. It looks like someone tried to kill you, Landon!" "...funny you should say that." mumbles Landon, almost incoherently. "Listen...don't...don't panic. I'll be fine. I...just need you...to hide me." "Hide you?" "Yeah. Just act like everything's normal and it'll be fine." Too scared to do anything else, the young girl shakily picks her scissors back up, the customer seated in front of her not looking thrilled with the prospect of having his hair cut by a quivering wreck. "Oh, and...when I get myself out here...and cleaned up...can you book me in for a facial and massage, please?" "...sure." Back out of the salon we go, as Todd Cortez and Nick Soapdish continue to follow the blood trail and have found it suddenly stop, leaving both looking a little confused. Soapdish is looking around while Cortez paces, frustrated that his opponent has got away. Eventually though, with a tap on the back, Soapdish points out the Spa, Salon and Fitness Center out to Cortez's left. Taking one look, Cortez grins, shaking his head slightly. "You've got to be kidding. He's not even trying." Cortez quickly jogs over and bursts through the door, looking around for where to go. Into the salon goes Cortez, glancing around and curiously, seeing no sign of Landon Maddix. Just a blood stained chair. To his right, the hairdresser from before is back to her hair cutting duties...still shaking somewhat and not looking at all convincing as she looks up and asks "Can I help you." "Yeah, you can tell me where Maddix is." "I'm sorry, I don't know a Landon Maddix." "Look, he's got blond hair, about five foot ten, scrawn...wait...I didn't say Landon Maddix." Cortez realises, as the hairdresser tries to look inconspicuous. "I just said 'Maddix', not 'Landon Maddix'." "No you didn't." "Yes, I did. Where is he?" "I really don't know wha..." "Listen..." growls Cortez, getting impatient. "I'm a nice guy, but if you're covering for that son of a bitch, then you'r..." *SMACK!* Suddenly, Maddix emerges from the proverbial reeds, catching Cortez in the back of the head with a Maddix-Kick!! Cortez collapses into the salon customer in the seat in front of him, the customer scurrying for cover, while Maddix drags Cortez off the chair and to the floor for a pin... "COUNT IT!!" "ONE!" "TWO" "THRE...NO, SHOULDER UP!!" "WHAT!?!" "He got his shoulder up, Landon. Only two." Bugging out, Maddix scrambles dis-orientatedly to his feet, staggering all over the place as he glares down at Cortez, encouraging him to get to his feet. "Come on you son of a bitch. Get up!" Slowly but surely, The Urban Legend leans onto the seat of the chair and pulls himself up, Maddix standing and waiting, looking absolutely drained but determined to find one more batch of energy from somewhere. Cortez pulls himself up, groggy from the last kick, turning around into the second... ...NO! Cortez ducks and Maddix ends up collapsing forward, tumbling into the chair. Cortez turns around and with Maddix sat out in front of him, suddenly explodes, with a flurry of right hands on the trapped Next Generation. Right hand after right hand slam into Maddix's blood soaked forehead as Cortez unleashes a ferocious flurry that leave Landon sprawled in the seat. Leaving Maddix where he is, Cortez steps back, treading on the pedal at the back of the seat, automatically lowering the seat with a jerky bump for Landon. Grabbing the back, Cortez then pulls with all his might, spinning Maddix around... ...and around... ...and around... ...and around... ...and around... ...before letting Maddix come to a stop. Now dizzy to go with every other ailment he's suffering, Maddix slumps back in his seat, eyes darting around in dis-orientation with his arms flailing around groggily. Cortez meanwhile backs up, crouching down and lining Maddix up, ready seemingly for a Superkick of his own...but suddenly, he gets grabbed by the young hairdresser! "Please, don't..." "Get OFF me!" yells Cortez, shoving the small woman back in his determination, sending her flying across the salon floor. Cortez shows momentary sorrow again for another heat of the battle move. But he soon gets back to his senses and back on the offence, abandoning the kick attempt and instead walking at Maddix... ...AND GETTING SPRAYED IN THE EYES BY SOME SORT OF HAIR PRODUCT!!!! "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Cortez screams out and clutches at his face. With shampoo of some sort in his eyes, in his face, in the cut above his eyebrow, Todd writhes in pain, kicking his feet furiously in pain as he falls to his knees. Maddix tosses away the bottle and carefully eases out of the seat, backing up as far as he can go...before suddenly diving forward... *SMACK!* ...slamming his unprotected knee into the skull of Todd Cortez with a SHINING WIZAAAAAARRDD~! Cortez collapses back, still writhing from his stinging eyes, but looking knocked out of his senses as Maddix drops down, cradling him into a tight pinfall. Soapdish looks down, seeing Cortez in agony...and, realises he has no choice but to count. "ONE!" "TWO" "THREE!! IT'S OVER!" Releasing the cradle, Maddix collapses back and raises a weak, bloody arm in victory, trying to pull himself up. Soapdish is obviously concerned about Cortez and drops down beside him, yelling for someone to "Get some water." as Cortez continues to groggily writh around on the floor. But, Maddix pulls Soapdish away, turning him around and pointing to his wrist. "Raise my hand!" asserts Maddix, Soapdish complying as Maddix wipes some bloody hair from his eyes. "Now, announce it." "Your winner of the match, Landon Maddix. Now, somebody get that wate..." "Announce it again, damn it!" "C'mon, he could be blinded..." "Do you think I give a crap!?!" yells Maddix. "Announce it like you mean it!" Soapdish sighs. "Your winner of this match...LANDON MADDIX!!" A smile appears over Maddix's face, mugging for the camera in front of him as finally someone in the salon has gotten off their ass and fetched some water. Soapdish quickly sits Cortez up, trying to wash the shampoo out of Cortez's eyes. Maddix watches on, smirking at his handiwork, having to drop down to one knee though as the blood loss gets to him again. Still Soapdish tries desperatly to flush the stinging liquid from Cortez's bloodshot, red eyes...but suddenly, Maddix knocks the water bottle out of Soapdish's eyes, shoving him out of the way and kneeling in front of Cortez. "Better luck next time, Todd. Oh and, by the way...if you want to find me between now and 10:30...I'll be in Room 49..." smiles Maddix. "...I'll tell Megan you said hi, in between licks." "You fuckin..." Cortez swings out wildly and blindly, Maddix avoiding the swing and leaving Cortez with one last right hand to the jaw, before staggering off out of the camera shot and away to go get himself some medical assistance himself. Meanwhile, Soapdish is quickly back over to try and get some water into Cortez's eyes, having to restrain Todd from trying to get some more of Maddix. Finally, Cortez gives in, allowing Soapdish to do his job...while making sure to make one thing very clear. "It's not over. Not...by a long shot."

FADE IN… Backstage at the Belligao’s Grand Ballroom, Ben Hardy stands ready to conduct an interview. Slowly, the cameras begin to back away from Hardy, revealing the man standing next to him to be Johnny Dangerous. A thunderous roar of cheers erupts from the Las Vegas crowd, bringing a smile to the Barracuda’s lips. It takes a minute for these fans to settle themselves down, but when they finally quiet Ben steps forward and begins. “Johnny,” says Hardy, “the last time we saw you at an SWF event you interfered in the World Title match between Ejiro Fasaki and Wildchild. Some have even said if not for your involvement in that match that we might have been looking at a different main event for tonight. What do you have to say to those that claim you screwed a man that you call a brother out of the World Heavyweight Championship?” “Ben, I didn’t screw anybody out of the World title,” Johnny responds as he shakes his head in annoyance. “Though I haven’t been at the past few shows I’ve talked to Wildchild. He knows that I was forced to take action in that match. See, I’ve been waiting for this opportunity that I have tonight for a long while and while Wild versus Dangerous for the World Heavyweight Championship would have been a phenomenal match…I knew what I’d be bringing to the table here tonight. I knew that I would be willing to do anything it takes to win tonight, no matter how bad I had to hurt the reigning World Champion to do it, and I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had to hurt the Wildchild.” “Well,” says Ben, “That was certainly ‘noble’ of you to save your tag partner from any unnecessary violence, Johnny. However…” “I’m sorry, Ben,” interjects Johnny, “there is no however to this story! What we have is me versus Ejiro Fasaki, tonight, for the World Heavyweight Championship! This is a match that I have waited for six months to receive. A match that I was robbed of by numerous talent-less hacks, one of them being your reigning World Champion, but all that stops here tonight! The wait is over and now I stand poised to claim the World Heavyweight Championship once more!” Looking into the camera and out to his hometown fans, the Barracuda momentarily pauses. The crowd can be heard cheering but the quickly quiet down so their hero can continue. “Ejiro,” says Johnny. “You think that you are going to come out here tonight with something to prove – to prove me, Tom Flesher, and everyone else wrong. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen; I’m a doormat for nobody especially not for some washed up has been like you. You’ve been forgotten for a reason, Ejiro, and rightfully so. I would have thought that after having me kick your ass in three separate tag matches would have shown you that. You can’t beat me and you know it, Fasaki!” “To the fans—my fans—of Las Vegas,” Johnny continues, “I ask you to stand by me as I take on this worthless excuse for a Champion. No matter what mutterings have been going on around the world about me I know that I have come home to the city of ‘Beautiful People’, the people that are here for no other purpose than to lead this world to a greater tomorrow. You are the people that I have devoted my entire wrestling career to as well as this match tonight. Together we will claim the World Heavyweight Championship and together we will rise above every other person in this business!” Flashing that smile that could sell a million movie tickets, Johnny lowers the microphone from his lips… As We: FADE OUT.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Eight golden-white spark showers explode from nowhere setting both the air and the crowd alight. As the packed house roars in appreciation... KABOOM! All eight pyros erupt again, this time simultaneously accompanied by a huge burst of flame in the middle! "THIS IS GROUND ZERO, LAS VEGAS!" screams Longdogger Pete, inciting the crowd even further, "Welcome back fans around the world, to part two of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation GROUND ZERO. I'm Longdogger Pete, here with Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet coming to you LIVE from the Bellagio Hotel AND Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada." Longdogger Pete nods over to Riley who chimes in, "Heh Heh, that's right wrestling fans, it's time to get down and dirty in the CITY OF SIN, where tonight it won't just be fun and games like those blokes in London had it...we may just leave here with a new World Champion, as the Rule of Ejiro Fasaki could be finished tonight" Comet chirps up, "Holy Smokes Bobby, don't count out Johnny Dangerous yet!" He continues with a bit of a down tone "And lets not forget the Casino Brawl between Landon Maddox and Todd Cortez..." Riley cuts him off with a cackle, "Ho ho. And that's what this match is all about, isn't it? Megan broke up Martial Law, and now they're looking to break each other into pieces!" "But that's all later," announces Longdogger, "First up we have a match for the Hardcore Championship, with Zyon defending against two rookies, however the rules for this match are somewhat unique; in fact lets go to Funyon for the introductions and these unusual stipulations." Funyon clears his throat once, and belts out his introductions "Ladies and Gentlemen, coming to the ring first, hailing from Harrisburg, NORTH CAROLINA, at a weight of 235 lbs...making his SWF DEBUT... Nick "THE HITLIST" BLUMMMMMMM" Blum's music blares throughout the Bellagio, and everyone starts looking around for the newcomer. Suddenly a loud shout can be heard from way up near the rafters! The entire arena gasps as The Hitlist jumps straight off the Titantron! Blum runs straight at the ring, slides in headfirst and flashes a reckless smile at the crowd. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. The crowd hushes as Between the Wheels starts playing "Now making his way to the ring, tipping the scales at Two Hundred and FORTY-NINE pounds...in his first televised SWF appearence... Marcus WARD." Marcus Ward comes out at a slow steady walk, looking straight ahead, not acknowledging anyone. About halfway down the walkway he stops and you can hear his voice over the music in a brutal sardonic tone “I'm in total control” as he glances from side to side with a knowing smile. He reaches the ring at the same leisurely pace he began slowly climbs between the top two ropes into the ring. He goes to each corner and climbs to the first rope and raises his arms staring down the crowd, challenging them, before stepping to the center crossing his arms at his stomach awaiting his opponent, making sure to keep one eye on The Hitlist. "I'm Born" "I'm Alive" "I Breathe" “Vitamin” by Incubus kicks in as Zyon walks on to the ramp looking over the arena at the fans who are looking at him. As the song picks up Zyon runs down to the ring and leaps on to the ropes. He grabs the top rope and with a little hop pulls himself over the ropes performing a flip to “pop” the crowd a little. Zyon waits a sec as the chorus to his theme plays. You stare at me like I'm a vitamin. On the surface you hate, but you know you need me. I'll come dressed as any pill you deem fit. Whatever helps you swallow truth all the more easily. Zyon then performs a minor head bang and raises his arms in the air showing a little intensity. The song continues to play as the lights in the arena flip back on and Zyon taunts a little bit more before going to his corner as preps for the upcoming contest. Funyon shakes his head a bit at Zyon coming out before his introduction, but continues on "And introducing, your HARDCORE CHAMPION: From Elkhart, Indiana at 200 pounds... ZYON!!!" The crowd roars in appreciation of the champion, and having a name they recognize in the ring. Each individual in the ring is clearly eyeing their oponent over, with no real game plan due to the unpredictable match, things are going to be chaotic. "The following match is a House Rules match. There is no scheduled time limit, and no set number of falls; all of this may change however, as this is a Slot Machine Stipulation match" Funyon gestures to a gigantic machine sitting at ringside, which the spotlight shines down on. He walks over to the machine as he continues his explanation "Instead of cherries, tomatoes, dragons, or Lucky 7's, this machine contains a multitude of match stipulations. Before the match I will pull the handle once, to determine the starting rules. At ANY TIME, ANY COMPETITOR may change the match stipulations, with a simple pull of the handle. At this time ALL accumulated falls are wiped out, and NO WRESTLER MAY SCORE A FALL while the reels are moving. Each stipulation must be satisfied to win the match. Due to the wild nature of this match there will be two referee's on hand to officiate" The crowd is rather quiet, trying to understand what's going on. They were hoping for some blood and chairs, and now they have slot machines and two referees? Most of the audience already lost their money on slot machines earlier, so they aren't too fond of them anyway. "Now let's see what Lady Luck has in store for Tonight's Hardcore Championship Matchup!" Funyon grabs the handle and pulls hard, marking the technical beginning of this match. The reels spin and spin flashing symbols that mean something only to the people in charge... Click. A picture of a ladder. The crowd livens up a little bit at the thought of a three-way ladder challenge. Click. NO DQ is written like a BAR symbol on a slot machine. Click. A metal ring with three chains coming from it is pictured. The crowd is silent in confusion. "Well what the hell does this mean!" Bobby Riley shouts out, a bit confused himself. "I just got word from the officials," notes Longdogger "This match will start out as a Strap Match/Texas Bullrope match with a chain, where the objects to be touched are suspended above the ring only reachable by a ladder in each corner...and it's No Disqualification." "YOWZERS," exclaims Comet, "I hope those chains are long enough, because this is something I've NEVER seen before" The referees explain the rules to each wrestler, and the current stips are listed on the Smarktron at all times so each of the fans can know what's going on. Each wrestler looks a bit unsure as to the direction this match will go in as they are chained together with about 6 feet of give between wrestler and the metal ring, watching the other referee set four ladders up to reach suspended objects that need to be touched. DING DING DING "And the first match of Ground Zero, Las Vegas is underway." "That's right Citizen Longdogger, and it looks like everyone is just testing the waters at first" Ward, Blum, and Zyon all circle around one another, eyeing the ladders and quickly formulating a plan of action. Zyon quickly stretches out the full length of his chain, getting an idea just how much slack he's gonna have in this match. Marcus reaches down and grabs some of his slack in his hand, obviously having a plan to keep these high flyers out of the air. Riley smirks, "Ward has the right idea, keep those two fools on the ground and he'll be able to beat them down all night long; Woh, what is Zyon doing?" Zyon starts sprinting for one of the ladders, catching both The Hitlist and Ward off guard. Nick Blum starts chasing after him, obviously trying to stop him from making quick order of these four corners. Ward simply taps a forefinger to his temple, smiles and tugs violently on his end of the chain just as The Unique Youth leaps towards the ladder. Zyon apparently had this planned out as he gets his feet planted on one of the ladder rungs just in time, riding the chain pull into a somersault back flip senton splash right in Ward's face. "WOW! Citizen Zyon is gonna be comin to me for flying lessons after this match, if that is any indication of his desire to soar!" "Oh shut up, Comet. You CAN'T FLY ALREADY." Riley grumbles. Zyon kips up after the splash and catches a charging Nick Blum with a high arcing hip toss. NO, he grabs his head and slams him down hard in a Disconnect neckbreaker! LP starts exclaiming, "Zyon is rolling here, he has Ward dazed with the senton, and now Blum just took a brutal neckbreaker. He may just win this right out of the gates, as The Unique Youth is heading for the ladders!!!" Not wasting a second, Zyon is using all his speed to run up the first ladder and touch the hanging dollar bill. He quickly completes the second, keeping an eye on his opponents for a sign of trouble. Z sprints up the third ladder jumping for the third bill, then spotting a stirring Blum out of the corner of his eye, he goes for broke. LP screams, "No way, not this early, a FINAL FLASH?!?" "He's spending almost as much time in the air as me!" Comet remarks Zyon plants on the top rung of the ladder, makes a signal to the crowd an overwhelming pop, and he LEAPS high into the air, getting totally vertical several feet above of NB before getting in perfect position for his upper back to plant the Hitplant to the canvas. "This match is just about in the books, as the Hardcore Champion will retain once again..." LP states assuredly, Comet nodding frantically next to him. Rolling out of the Final Flash onto his feet, Zyon gets his bearings and identifies the last ladder he needs to ascend. He sees nothing but that hanging dollar bill, and the title strapped back around his waist as he racess to the ladder and starts climbing the rungs. "Don't ring the bell yet, Ward's gonna crash Zyon's party now" Riley points out Ward rising to his feet with chain in hand. Pete nods his head and replies, 'We may not be finished here yet, folks, someone has some life in them!" Ward finally shakes the senton-ladder-splash off and spies Zyon reaching the top of the ladder. Not having any clue which corner he's on, but not wanting to take any chances MW lets out his second vicious chain pull of the match; Zyon's hands are so busy reaching for victory, they have no leverage to keep him on the ladder as his feet give out from under him, his chin knocking solidly off the top of the ladder resulting in a heap of Zyon tumbling down the ladder to the canvas. "What a change of events," LP comments, "Ward is now in control with two senseless opponents, how will he capitalize on this, can he climb the corners to victory?" "Wowza! Longdogger, Citizen Ward isn't much of a flyin man, so I don't know if he can really handle the ladders here." mentions Comet Marcus Ward had the same idea himself, and immediately slides outside of the ring, dragging both prone opponents a few inches so he can reach his target: the slot machine. "Now that's taking control!" Riley promotes Ward's decision, even giving him a small round of applause. LP responds, "Lets see what the new stipulations are, as Ward obviously wants no part of any ladder match. Ward wrenches the lever impatiently as he notices Blum and Zyon both starting to stir, realizing his space to win this match is over in a blink of an eye. Click. A picture of a pillow? Click. A picture of a cage. Click. A picture of a broken table. The crowd reacts especially loud to that, anticipating someone going through a table to finish this match. The referees quickly unchain the competitors and clear out the ladders, even as a cage starts to lower from the ceiling. Realizing he can't win unless he starts IN the cage to get out, Ward slides in the ring and stands up, just in time to get smacked in the back of the head with a large down pillow. The audience laughs as he turns and picks it up, as the ref's throw five more of them in, two for each competitor, finishing just as the clank of the cage reaching the floor echos in the arena. LP announces, "To win the match from this point forward, the competitor must escape from the cage or score a pinfall or submission as well as put one of his opponents through a table. In addition, pillows are a legal weapon during these stipulations." Riley fumes, "Pillows, next thing you know they'll be having kitty cats, and tooth fairies!" Blum and Zyon have both managed to get to their feet during the match transition, though Z still seems dazed from the shot to the chin. Ward walks right up to Zyon and bashes him with a stiff-looking uppercut-forearm shot to that same chin. A second and third forearm strike drives Zyon to the corner. Ward continues with several knees to the sternum of The Unique Youth, wearing him down. As Zyon leans over gasping for air Ward grips his arms behind Z's back, getting them locked in for an apparent belly-to-belly suplex. Even as MW sets his feet to 'plex Z, Blum comes out of nowhere with a giant crossbody, impacting both of his opponents at once. "A gigantic splash from The Hitlist, finally showing some sort of offense in this match" With Zyon sitting stunned in the corner, Blum turns his attention to the prone Ward. The Hitlist kicks a pillow out of his way before bouncing off the ropes into a run, reaching the other side of the ring before leaping up, planting his feet on the top rope and hitting a Lionsault splash hard into Ward. "Now a Lionsault, The Hitlist is on fire, what will he string this momentum into?" LP asks. Sensing his control of the match, Nick Blum starts into the ropes again then runs across the ring, leaping again to the top rope, springboarding into a full 180-degree rotation with an elbow drop across the neck of Marcus Ward. "180 ELBOW to Ward, is this gonna be a quick pinfall for The Hitlist!" wails LP NB rolls over onto Ward, hooking the leg for added leverage as the ref slides in to make the count. ONE! TWO! (The crowd starts roaring, between counts, and Hitlist seems sure it's because hes gonna get a pinfall and be halfway to a debut Hardcore Title) THrrrrrrrrrre - - CRASH! Just as official John Trudell brings his hand down for the final count he's rudely interrupted by the impact of The Hardcore Champion, Zyon finishing off a picture-perfect asai moonsault right in his face to disrupt the pinfall. "WOw! Wow! Wow!. Citizen Zyon can't fly yet, but he sure has learned how to soar. I'm starting to like this guy...and so is the crowd!" warbles Comet! Sure enough the entire audience is chanting "ZYON! ZYON! ZYON!" after his third amazing impact aerial maneuver of the night. "Here's Zyon, back in control, seems like I've been saying that all night in fact." remarks LP Zyon pulls himself up and immediately heads for the cage climbing the rings like a trapped monkey (which he basically is). Ward and Blum are both still struggling to shake off the moonsault even as Zyon makes it down the outside of the cage, holding his arms in triumph...before realizing he still has to put one of those fools through a table. "Looks like the crowd here in Vegas just wants to see someone go through a table tonight!" notes Longdogger Pete. First things first, Zyon unlocks and unloops the chain around the cage door and swings it wide open, before tossing a table in the cage and over the ropes, right at the feet of the rising Nick Blum. Sliding into the ring, Zyon pelts Nick with swift kicks to the shin and lower abdomen, catching him before he can defend himself. After a few more strikes to knock Nick into the ropes, Zyon whips him across the ring and catches him off the rebound in an overhead hurricanara. Zyon kips up and heads for the table, before getting elbowed in the back of the head by a recovered Marcus Ward, who irish whips Z into the other side of the ring. Ward waits on The Unique Youth and gets him up... Longdogger comments rapidly, "Oh my, Ward has him in the tilt-a-whirl, it looks like he's got him twisted around twice, then a spin and it's a spinerbust...no wait Zyon just got his arm around Ward's neck and reversed it into a spike DDT, with Marcus Ward basically headbutting the canvas with all his near 250 pounds behind it!" Ward hits the mat with a audible thud and flips up and over onto his back as recoil from the brutal impact of the counter ddt. Zyon moves rapidly to the table and sets it up in the center of the ring before picking the lighter Blum off the mat and rolling him onto the table. Up to the top rope goes Zyon, clearly set on winning this match right here and now, the only way he knows how...through the air. Comet shouts, "If he goes to the air one more time, I may just have to take off my cape to this man, this soaring Citizen Z!" Riley screams, "No, Ward can't lose like that, get up and toss him off, we all know you're in control!" LP comments, "Zyon's signally, yes he's gonna do ANOTHER FINAL FLASH...and this one is final, he's gonna send The Hitlist home with this leap." A roaring crowd shouts "FINAL FLASH!" As Zyon signals, then leaps into the air. Just as he gets completely vertical, he begins moving his shoulders in position for the impact part of the maneuver...when he takes a dropkick in the back of the head! LD shouts, "Blum made it up just as Zyon was descending, and he reacted with one of the most amazing standing dropkicks I've ever seen!" Blum finishes his drop kick falling through the table to the canvas, still crushing his back with impact and slicing it splinters, but at least not giving Zyon the victory. Z tumbles in the air before landing awkwardly on his spine, clearly cold-clocked by the kick to the back of the head. "All three competitors are out of comission, and the official is starting the triple count...could we have a thee-way draw here?!" ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Blum stirs a bit and Ward is rolling around clutching his head, but Zyon shows no sign of consciousness and certainly won't be the one to break this count. FIVE! SIX! SSEEEEVVENN! EIGGHHHTTT! NIIIINE...Ward starts rising up, getting to his knee just at the nine count, while NB rolls to his stomach and pushes himself to his feet at the same time. Spotting each other they go into a grapple that Blum shifts into a headlock; Ward spins out of that and into a rear waistlock on NB. MW delivers two swift headbutts to The Hitlist, who responds by rolling forward onto the mat, grabbing Ward's head to bring him down also, then getting his hands locked in MW's legs to set up a roll-up pin. The ref slides in ONE! TWO! Ward kicks out with conviction, and quickly gets to his feet in time to catch a rushing Nick Blum in a tide-turning powerslam...onto a pillow??? Nick Blum starts to wiggle out of MW's grip and runs into the ropes, bouncing off and leaping at him with a crossbody...which Ward turns into a tilt-a-whirl twisting him around twice then finishing with a migraine-inducing piledriver. "Excellent action there, for once some back and forth action, though WARD sort of ruined that by pasting The Hitlist to the canvas...after a little bit of a pillow problem" LDP narrates Riley cackles, "And look at Ward, see, he's in TOTAL CONTROL here!" Bobby Riley is of course pointing to the fact that Marcus Ward is tapping the side of his temple and gesturing to his fallen foes, getting the welcome jeers of the Las Vegas crowd. Ward picks NB up off the mat by the hair then scoops him up in his arms. CRACK! Backbreaker with the knee in the side of the ribs/lower back. CRACK! LP remarks, "Ward continues with a second side backbreaker, shortening the future career of his opponent!" "Do a third!" Riley urges him on. CRRRRRRACK! Backbreaker number three imprints the point of Ward's knee right into Blum's spine. MW stands up still holding The Hitlist as if he's going to perform yet a fourth backbreaker. Ward shakes his head, flashes a sadistic smile and simply tosses Nick Blum over the top rope and BACK FIRST into the STEEL CAGE, the impact rattling the cage; NB then lands side first on the arena floor, his ribs/back taking yet more punishment. "More punishment for Nick Blum in his SWF debut as he is just tossed to the arena floor like a rag doll by the surging Marcus Ward" comments Longdogger Pete Comet speaks up, "Gadzooks, Ward is not playing fair. I see Zyon is to his feet now, so maybe he'll be able to show him the way to wrestle." Riley curses, "Comet you pansy, shut up and watch Mr. Ward show you how to WIN a match!" Zyon is indeed rising to his feet, but Ward has certainly not forgotten him as he meets the crouched over Youth with a hellacious knee lift, pushing him into the turnbuckles. Ward applies a series of forearms to the same chin Z smacked off the top of the ladder earlier. "That prolly won't look pretty later on, but maybe he can do Bruce Campbell impersonations as a side-gig," comments a gleeful Bobby Riley Ward taps the side of his temple again, showing the crowd who's in control as he drags Zyon by his hair to the cage door, launching him outside the ring, out the door and onto the floor. Marcus walks out of the ring to meet Zyon and takes the opportunity to dig the toe of his boot in his throat for several seconds, up to the four count of the outside ref. Ward completes the toe-choke with a brutal punt-kick to the chin of Zyon. "OH I'm surprised his head didn't roll all the way here like a soccer ball!" Riley seems energized by Ward's comeback. LP comments, "Now Ward is setting up a table, clearly going for the finish himself, realizing it's now or never to have a chance at the Hardcore Gold!" Marcus completes the table, taking a bit longer to set it up trying to get the legs stable, then he rolls the stunned Zyon right up onto the table. "Looks like Ward is going to climb up on the padded retaining wall and jump from there to finish this thing. He's not much of a high flyer, but at 249 lbs it won't take much to bust The Unique Youth through this table...No wait, Blum is coming out of the cage door and making a run at Marcus Ward!" Longdogger continues with more play-by-play. Ward takes three stinging knife-edge chops to the chest before Blum grabs his arm and whips him across to the other side of the arena where he slams into the retaining wall on that side. "Looks like Blum is in the clear to finish the match right here, no one to stop him, and Zyon is ready for him on the table," LD Pete comments. The Hitlist sees the situation, and hears the crowd roaring, and he knows he's gotta make this stick. Nothing simple from him, he's gonna prove he earned this championship. Nick Blum starts climbing the cage near the table where Zyon is laid out face down on. "He's going to make this spectacular, apparently the easy win isn't good enough for him. Wait, Ward is getting up, but he's certainly not close enough to make it to the other side of the ring in time, he's just going to watch his loss in slow motion" remarks LP "Flying through the air, in slow motion, too" adds Comet Riley guffaws, "HA, he is close to something else though, and I think he knows...well OF COURSE HE KNOWS, he's in TOTAL CONTROL!" Ward spots Blum readying for a high-flying move, and notices the slot machine: Two feet away. He dives for the handle and pulls it! Even as he's gripping sweaty palms on the knob of the slot lever, Nick Blum is launching himself in a rotating elbow drop off the cage right towards Zyon...who is finally coming to and starts sliding off the table, instincts telling him that's not a winning place to be. Blum impacts elbow first right onto Zyon's leg which crashes through the table to drive directly into a portruding steel leg of the table. "What the hell just happened, and...what is Ward doing to the machine?!?" Zyon is screaming in excruitating pain, clutching his knee that clearly took some awful damage in the 180-elbow from the cage. In a heap next to him, is Nick "The Hitlist" Blum who took a brutal spill impact of his own. On the other side of the ring, Marcus Ward is playing with something behind the slot machine, and Official Matthew Kivell has approached him and gotten in his face. LP says, "Something is goin on, the ref and Ward are arguing chest to chest, it looks like the official is about to DQ him for tampering with the match...this is huge..but wait folks! Ward is pointing at the machine!" Click. NO DQ Ward laughs in the face of the ref as the NO DQ stipulation comes up, tapping the side of his forehead, which results in even louder jeering from this Vegas crowd that is now fully against Marcus Ward Riley cackles, "This Ward, I like this guy. He had to have this planned before the match, and he knew what he was doing. He really is in total control!" Comet complains back, "This is ridiculous Riley...what an abuse of the rules!" Click. Submission Click. Elimination The rest of the stipulation reels roll into place, even so the Referee is still arguing with Ward, pointing to the aisle and ordering him to go. Apparently Ward won't stand for that, gives him a brutally stiff uppercut-forearm and then lifts him overhead in a military press. One swift-second later the official is falling out of mid-air onto wards shoulder and into an arena-floor spinebuster. "That's the Conspiracy Collapse...and it sure did it's job tonight!" Riley boasts! Longdogger Pete remarks, "Looks like Ward has this where he wants it...though The Hitlist is getting up to meet him" Nick Blum rises up and holds his arms up in victory, spinning around in the table wreckage, watching the cage rising up at the stipulation change to him though all of this is sure sign of his victory. He turns and looks at Ward approaching him and sticks his arm out for an arrogant, cocky "I won" handshake. Ward smiles and takes the handshake...pulling The Hitlist into his chest then using his clutched hand to pull off a brutal Exploder powerslam to the floor. Comet complains, "That wasn't very honorable of Citizen Ward, what happened to a fair fight!" Riley smacks Comet on the back of the head, "Shut up you twit!" Longdogger Pete ignores the two and comments, "Zyon has finally made it to his feet, though he is leaning on the retaining wall and obviously clutching his knee. Oh no, Ward is heading towards him, and he has a piece of the table leg with him!" Ward takes the table leg and thwacks it right across Zyon's bad knee, sending him crashing to the floor. A tap of the table leg to his temple and Marcus Ward descends on Zyon, quickly locking him up in an excrutiating crucifix-kneebar! "The Bavarian Bone-Breaker, I don't see how Zyon can hope to get out of this with an already damaged knee. It's just too much for the young man, Hardcore Champion or not..." Zyon struggles. He screams. The bones are creaking in his leg, the ref is in his face, waiting for the word to ring the bell for his elimination. His eyes bulge, his black-and-blue chin beats against the pad on the arena floor struggling to resist, searching for a way to escape this hold. Ward simply puts the pressure on, locking in the Bavarian Bone Breaker with no mercy, no intention on releasing this. The Unique Youth sees his career flashing before his eyes. His knee a pile of bone chips and a year of rehab. TAP TAP TAP DING! DING! DING! Funyon announces, "Zyon has been eliminated" Ward continues to hold the kneebar for several seconds as the crowd screams and jeers at him "MARCUS SUCKS, MARCUS SUCKS." He relinquishes the hold begrudgingly, knowing he has another opponent to take care of. Zyon is dragged off after being released from the hold, and helped to the back to tend for his injured knee. "Well looks like we'll have a new champion tonight folks, though who will it be? Nick Blum and Marcus Ward are going to finish this mano a mano..." says Longdogger Pete. Nick Blum obviously has Marcus Ward on his Hitlist now after that sneak attack. He slides into the ring quickly, waiting for Ward to come meet him there. Marcus eases into the ring, wary of the quicker Blum. The two foes lock arms in a grapple, but Ward delivers three sharp knees to the gut before shifting into a side headlock on Blum. NB pushes Ward off of his headlock and into the ropes. MW bounces from the ropes and back towards Nick, who drops to the ground on his stomach. Marcus steps over him and bounces off the ropes again back towards NB who drops down again, obviously trying to bait Marcus into running with him, MW leaps and lands with a double knee drop right into the lower back of Nick. "Marcus Ward has once again stifled the momentum of Nick Blum" remarks LP Riley preens, "It's like I'm in the ring again, stopping people cold in their tracks!" Climbing between the top and middle ropes then dropping to the floor, Ward lifts up the ring apron and begins rooting around underneath Comet shouts, "What is he doing under there, nothing he pulls out of there could be any good at all, just keep it in the ring Ward!" "Looks like he's found it...oh my a rather large orange ladder, a bit bigger than the normal ladders we uses, a few feet between the runs and a lot wider...what could he be planning with this damn thing." describes Longdogger. Ward slides into the ring, dragging the ladder with him. Blum begins to stir and push up onto his hands and knees, still clearly groggy. Ward gives him a knee drop to the back of the head once...twice...three times a knee drop to the head. Pulling Blum up by the hair, MW then irish whips him into the ropes, waiting in the center for The Hitlist...who comes back right in the arms of Marcus Ward. Lift. Pivot. Slam.CLANG. "SPINEBUSTER INTO THE LADDER!!!" LP screams, trying to talk above the boisterous crowd amazed at the brutality of that metal-on-flesh mix. Rolling NB off the ladder, MW hefts it up and opens it. He looks around the arena and taps the side of his head, indicating to everyone he's in total control. Ward walks to blum and hefts him up to his chest...then brings him to the ladder and holds him up at shoulder/head high... "Oh my...what is he planning. He's intertwining Nick Blum in the ladder, his legs are scisorred between the one rail, the other rail is between his head and arm, his back is twisted and resting on one of the steel rungs. What is his plan?!" the words of LP echo as the audience stares down in horror and fascination. Marcus Ward signals one more time before turning and gripping Nick "The Hitlist" Blum in Total Control. A Human Torture Rack, intertwined in a ladder, all the pressure being forced on a steel ladder. "That's a twisted and brutal way try and force this submission...though it certainly is deserving of the Hardcore title..." observes Longdogger Pete. Riley roars, "There's no escape for BLUM! He's all wrapped in the ladder so has no leverage, and Ward isn't going to get tired because he isn't supporting any weight, just racking him on the ladder. It's the human ladder rack!!!!" Blum screams and screams, clutching for something his body twisting and slamming and grinding on the unforgiving steel of the ladder. Ward tightens his grips on the head and legs, wringing the submission right out of Blum, who quickly shouts to the ref that he's had enough. DING! DING! DING! Funyon announces "The winner of this match via submission, and your new HARDCORE CHAMPION... MARCUS WARD!!!!" Hateful boos erupt in the Bellagio Hotel and Casino at the announcement, and grow only louder as the ref hands Ward his newly won title and raises his hand to signify the victory. Instead of growing angry, Ward only taps his head with forefinger and then swiftly kicks over the ladder that has Nick Blum intertwined in it ignoring the officials attempting to untangle his battered body as he Walks up the aisle a champion.