Ace309

Fade in… “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Funyons bellows, “the following contest is a non-title match and scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit!” “SO DO YOU WANNA BE A FRANCHISE!” “AND LIVE LARGE!” *CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!* “A BIG HOUSE… FIVE CARS… THE RENT CHARGE!” The SmarkTron explodes to life with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat. “Comin up in the world… Don't trust nobody—gotta look over your shoulder constantly!" As the opening lyrics from Rock Superstar by Cypress Hill, slightly altered of course, blare over the PA system and as the self proclaimed franchise makes his way through the curtain the crowd raises its’ cheering to a new level! The lights come back up and Francis nods his head to the beat, ice blue Oakley’s reflecting the multi-colored explosion of lights. Mak steps forward tilting his shades down on the bridge of his nose, before looking left and then right… “I remember the days… When I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!” *FWIIIIIIIIIISH-BANG!* Black and Green streamers explode forth in the Budokan – the colors of the Franchise – in a show of respect for the young grappler! “Making his way to the ring—from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and weighing in tonight at two hundred and forty pounds!” Funyon says, “He is one the true “FRANCHISE”… MAK FRAAAAAAAAAAAANCISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” The Franchise’s trench coat billows behind him as he comes down the walkway, sliding under the bottom rope and popping to his feet, a serious smirk across his face as he thrusts both fists into the air, walking around with a swagger that only the Franchise can. Hopping up onto the nearest turnbuckle, Mak looks on as waves of flashes go off around him. “Mak seems very under control considering the interview he gave about Spike kicking out of the Franchise Tag…” “Well what’s the point of getting upset when you know you’re going to lose… I mean four in a row? God that’s more loses than I had in my entire career!” “Sure…” “And add to that Spike Jenkins not only beating him, but kicking out of his best move and that doesn’t bode well for a match against Jay Hawke!” “Now that may have some actually truth behind it, King.” Suddenly, the lights in the arena return to a multi-colored strobe… “And his OPPONENT!” says Funyon, as the mood begins to change. …And Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” begins to blare over the PA. The cheers turn into jeers as Jay Hawke makes his way into the makeshift arena set up on the dance floor, flashing colored lights making it hard to see exactly how beautiful that sequined red and white robe really is. He looks at the crowd – and the setting – in disgust before making his way to the ring. ”From Cleveland, Ohio and weighing tonight at two hundred and fifteen pounds!” Funyon says. “He is the reigning Smarks Wrestling Federation INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION… “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” … JAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” *FWIIIIIIIIIIISH-BANG!* Red and white streamers are thrown about, as Hawke continues towards the ring. Jay Hawke walks up the steel steps onto the apron, wipes his feet on the bottom of the apron and then steps through the ropes. Hawke shoots an ugly look at the crowd and flips them off, wondering if the Japanese crowd even knows what the obscene hand sign means. Changing tactics, Hawke pulls down his eyelid and sticks out his tongue, just to be sure the crowd gets the point! He discards his robe and turns to look the Franchise in the face. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Once again folks, this match is non-title, but a win here for Mak Francis could halt his skid and get him back on the winning track!” Pete says, as Hawke and Mak turn the circle testing the foreign ring. “While for Jay Hawke a high profile win over Mak could be just the thing to push him up the rankings ladder!” *Ding! Ding! Ding!* Francis and Hawke continue to turn the circle, gauging each other from far away. Finally, Hawke takes the initiative and slides forward, beckoning for a grapple. Mak looks wary, shaking out his right arm with a wince, but falls right back into things; crashing together with Jay! The two grapple for position, with Hawke easily taking control and moving into a side headlock. Jay Hawke grinds the hold in, but Francis’ arm goes up to his face, guiding him back towards the ropes quickly. A well-placed kidney shot gets Mak some separation and he sends the Dean of Professional Wrestling to run the ropes. But Hawke rebounds back and rapidly meets Mak center ring – knocking him to the mat with a shoulderblock! “Mak’s technique is trash compared to Jay Hawke’s!” King chimes in, as Hawke smugly looks down his nose at Francis and brushes some imaginary dirt from the shoulder that made contact with Mak. “See, he sullied Hawke’s shoulder just by touching it. Can’t let any of those bad technical skill rub off!” Finished his taunt, Hawke backpedals into the ropes again, rushing forward and causing the Franchise to flip over onto his belly. On his return, the Franchise reaches out for Hawke – but the Dean of Professional Wrestling grabs him by the arm and plants his feet, sending Francis away in a mid-motion whip! Mak flies off in the same direction his opponent was going, regaining control of himself as he comes running back toward Hawke looking for a Franchise worthy shoulderblock of his own… but Hawke leapfrogs! Mak skids to a stop, as Hawke lands back on the mat and nods his head arrogance oozing off him, as he turns- *SLAP!* -Only to get the shit slapped out of him by Mak Francis! Hawke’s head swivels to the right, as he stumbles from the open hand assault. Mak flashes a cocky smirk and grabs a side headlock, flinging Jay to the canvas in a takedown! “Hawke tempted fate by taunting the Franchise and he got slapped back to reality.” Pete says, noting the action. “You don’t want to trade insults in the ring with Mak Francis because over his career, few have outdone him.” On the mat, Hawke rubs his jaw, but quickly gets back to the task at hand, attempting to counter the side headlock. Francis, feeling Jay get into position for a head-scissors, quickly spins into a front headlock, sandbagging all his weight onto Hawke’s neck! Feeling the pressure on his neck, Hawke reaches under trying to gain wrist control over Mak, so that he can transition into a hammerlock, but Francis is one-step ahead yet again, floating out of the facelock and into an amateur waistlock! Hawke attempts to sit out, but Francis continues to dominate in the back mount, standing over his opponent. Mak rears back and- *WHACK!* -smashes his forearm across the bridge of Hawke’s nose in a cross-face! Mak measures his opponent yet again and sends his left arm rifling down- *WHACK!* -crashing into Jay’s jaw with another brutal forearm blow! The Franchise’s right arm is not far behind- *WHACK!* -with a third, unbelievably stiff cross-face!! This one is so snug, the Japanese crowd has to acknowledge… *CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!* …With polite applause! “No, you’re supposed to ‘Boo’ you idiot Japanese—don’t clap!” King yells, as the crowd continues to show support for the Franchise. “I liked this a lot better when Spike was on the receiving end!” Hawke scrambles his way to the ropes and shouts at Eddy Long to give him a break. Mak backs away and Hawke gets up, upset but under control. At Jay’s signal they come together in a collar and elbow again, but Francis swings Hawke down to the canvas in an amateur arm drag and follows up by attempting to bar the arm, but Hawke will have none of that. Jay Hawke fights to his feet with elbows to the Franchise’s rib cage and then suddenly gains wrist control, flashing around Mak’s right arm and driving it down towards the canvas!! “A Fujiwara arm-bar!” Pete says. “Hawke going after the injured right arm quickly!” “Uh, he didn’t just make up the Dean of Professional Wrestling nickname.” King responds. “He got it because he’s smart in the ring.” Parts of the crowd rise to their feet to see the action, as Hawke pushes for all he’s worth to take the kneeling Mak down. Mak braces himself with his other arm, to avoid the flash submission – but Hawke doesn’t go quit, so instead of going down; Mak rolls forward to break the hold – succeeding! Both Francis and Hawke end up on their backs, but the Franchise swings his legs around the left arm of the Dean and attempts to latch on tight with a cross arm-breaker! “No, Jujigata-me!” Pete bellows. “Mak answers back with a cross arm-breaker!” Hawke locks his hands together quickly and once again makes his way to the ropes for a break. The Japanese crowd gives another respectful clap, as both men disentangle themselves. Long asks Hawke if he can continue and Jay nods his head, getting back up to his feet and shaking out his arm. Once again, Hawke becons for a collar and elbow and since he’s controlled all three, Mak accepts moving forward… directly into a thumb to the eyes from the Dean of Professional Wrestling! “What a technical display from Jay Hawke with that Greco Roman thumb lock!” King says, as Hawke moves in on his stunned prey. “That’s just blantant disregard for the rules, King.” Pete counteracts. “No real technical skill involved there.” An accomplished technical wrestling in his own right, Jay spins Francis down to the canvas with his own amateur arm drag and attempts to bar his arm. “Short arm scissors by the Dean of Professional Wrestling and his plan of attack hasn’t changed from previous matches. In fact it’s comparable to Mak’s in that they both love to use arm work to control an opponent.” Pete notes, as Long checks the hold and the shoulders of Mak. “You can bet the Wing Span will make an appearance tonight, Pete!” Mak immediately gets his legs underneath him and rocks forward slightly, shifting his weight backwards stacking Jay Hawke onto his shoulders. “Reversal!” Pete yells, as Long darts around to check Hawke’s shoulders and counts… ONE! TWO! T—No! Mak feels an unexpected tug on his arm, as Hawke forward rolls off his shoulders and right back into the short arm-scissors! Long hovers over Francis and gets read to hit the mat, spotting Francis flat on his back, so Mak shoots his shoulders off the canvas and again quickly repeats the same process! Long darts around to check Hawke’s shoulder again and counts… ONE! TWO—No! Hawke is a very sound technician and won’t be pin by the same move for long. “Not even a two count that time, for Mak.” Pete notes, as Mak stacks Hawke on his back, but Jay instinctively raises a shoulder, so the Franchise continues lifting the two hundred and fifteen pound Hawke up into the air, with one arm! His bad right arm, no less! The Japanese crowd once again shows respect. *CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!* “What strength shown by the Franchise on a bad arm!” Pete shouts, as Mak picks Jay up for a one armed Powerbomb – but the Dean of Professional Wrestling is aware of this counter as and letting go of Mak’s arm at the apex of the hold, he slides down the Franchise’s back, pulling at his thighs and wiggling him into a sunset flip roll up! “Sunset flip!” Long falls to make a count – but even before he can slap the mat, Mak rolls through and grabs beneath both of Hawke’s legs stacking him on his back!! ONE! TWO—No! “Jay Hawke counters!” King shouts back, as Hawke flips Mak upside down and back onto his shoulders, kicking his legs out and stretching them across Francis’ for the pin… ONE! TWO! THRE—NO! Mak explodes forward his arms wrapped around Hawke’s legs, sitting on Jay’s chest in a leverage pin! Long counts… “Counter! Francis counters!” ONE! TWO! THREE—NO! The two warriors break apart, Mak rolling back, as Hawke slides into a crouch. Just as Mak attempts to get up- *WHAM!* -Hawke explodes to his feet and BLASTS Francis with a lariat!! “That’s what I’m talking about Hawke!” King says, as Jay Hawke leans over the downed Franchise and proceeds to choke the life out of him! “One!” “Two!” “Three!” “Four—Break Hawke!” And the Dean does so; satisfied for the moment that Mak’s not going to pull anymore roll-ups or counters out of his ass. Hawke picks Mak up by the hair and snitches in a front headlock, quickly spinning down to the canvas in a swinging neckbreaker! Hawke slides back up to his feet and rapidly drops Mak back to the canvas with a second neckbreaker! Sitting up, the Dean claps his hands together and falls into a pin, allowing Eddy Long to count… ONE! TWO! THR—No! Only a two count! “Hawke in control with those multiple Swinging neckbreakers, but only gets a two count!” Pete comments, as Hawke extends Mak’s arm and begins to drop knee after knee across the injured wing! “Hawke is back on track, Pete.” King says, while Jay wrenches the arm between his knees and falls to the ground in an attempt to hyperextend it. “Mak Francis has nearly tapped out more times in the past month than over his entire career, so all Hawke needs to do is keep on the arm and get the win!” Picking Mak up to his feet, Hawke pins Francis’ arm behind him in a hammerlock and tucks his head underneath Mak’s armpit, elevating him up overhead in a Northern Lights suplex!! The pinned arm stays trapped underneath, as Jay holds the bridge, waiting for Eddy Long to count… ONE! TWO! THRE—NO! Mak jerks his good arm into the air on instinct hitting the Dean in the ribs with a punch! Hawke hovers over Francis and reapplies the hammerlock looking to keep control of the Franchise, but Mak fights in the hold, getting up to a knee, and swinging away with elbow, after elbow, after elbow, gaining some separation! Mak looks to run the ropes, but Hawke reaches out and grabs him by the hair wrapping an arm around his throat from overhead and yanking him down in a reverse headlock neckbreaker, onto bended knee! The Franchise spasms under the attack to his neck – and back – and falls to the canvas, as Hawke covers and Long counts… ONE! TWO! THREE-NO! “TWO! TWO!” Long shouts, putting his two fingers up in the air for all to see. A guy in the front row raises a “NI!” sign to everyone’s amusement. Hawke stands staring a hole into the official and then signals for the Wing Span, stalking behind his opponent as he stumbles to his feet… …And he locks it in!! “Mak’s in REAL trouble now!” And Pete is absolutely correct, as Hawke hangs on his back trying to pull Mak down to the canvas! Jay laces a leg about the Franchise’s arm attempting to finish his hold, but Mak backpedals, slamming Hawke into the corner! The Dean won’t give up on his finisher that easily so Mak slams him into the turnbuckle one more time. Turning about and breathing heavily, the Franchise grits his teeth and sends Jay Hawke spiraling into the turnbuckle pads with an Irish whip! The Dean of Professional Wrestling hits the corner back first and stumbles out, clearly dazed, as Mak rebounds off the near ropes behind him, looking for a bulldog- -But Hawke ducks his attempt to make the truth hurt, lacing his arms around Mak’s body and hoisting him overhead in a beautiful German suplex!!! Mak sits center ring holding his neck in pain, as Jay gives the cut throat sign and heads up top! “I don’t get why anyone would want to associate themselves with Cutthroat of all people…” King quips forgetting he likes Hawke for a second, as Jay spreads his arm… … And leaps off the top HITTING the diving headbutt!!! Hawke holds his head for a brief second and then rolls into a pin hooking the leg. ONE! TWO! THREE! “No! Only Two!” Pete shouts as Mak somehow, someway gets a shoulder up off the canvas. Hawke wondering how Francis kicked out, picks him up by the hair and drags him over to the corner, placing him on the top rope backwards! Mak tries to fight Jay off swinging away with back elbows. The Japanese crowd rises again, as Hawke pounds on Francis with clubbing blows to the back! Then loops underneath him looking for a Super Backdrop suplex – but Mak counters the belly-to-back superplex, sending them falling back down to the mat in a cross-body from the top!!!! *BAM!* Mak falls in a heap, holding his arm in agony but knowing that he may just be able to sneak out a win! Slowly but surely he makes his way over to Jay Hawke, who had his eyes open a second ago, but now they are closed. Mak covers, Long counts and so does the crowd… “ICHI!” ”NEE!” … ”SAN!” “NOOOOOOOO! COUNTER~!!!!” King screams, as Hawke kicks out — but not only does the self Dean of Professional Wrestling kick out… he grabs a hold of Mak’s right arm and transitions beautifully sliding into a fujiwara arm bar and this time Mak is all the way down on the mat! “Fujiwara!” King shouts. “He was play possum and now Mak’s gotta’ tap!” Francis hollers in agony as the shooting pain continues to burn in his arm! It’s only been a few seconds and he can barely stand the pain!! But Francis, nothing else left to save him, reaches back and laces his arm in between Jay’s leg’s, and rolls into an amateur cradle!!! Long counts… “ICHI!” “NEE!” “SAN!” “NO!” Long shouts, waving off the pin! “ONLY TWO!” he continues, as Mak rolls away clutching at his injured wing, disappointed he didn’t get the three. Hawke pops up to his feet pissed and blasts Mak with a punch to the face and then picks him up! Groaning, Francis slumps and cradles his arm, as Hawke comes up behind him and locks a waistlock around the Franchise. Parts of the crowd rise to its’ feet – as Hawke pulls him a few steps closer to center ring- *BAM!* -And hits a high-angle backdrop suplex!! "Head-drop!” King shouts in ecstatic joy, while most of the crowd cringes. Francis lands high and tight on his neck, flopping to his belly like a fish – but suddenly pops back up to his feet letting out a primal roar of- “NO POBO!” -And on instinct swings his leg forward- *CRACK!* -PLASTERING Hawke with a Yakuza Kick!! “What the hell was that?” King questions, “How is he even standing after that supl-” and just that quickly King’s question is answered as Mak falls back to the mat, clutching his neck. “In Japan, no selling is an art form.” “True, but what I find funny is that Hawke knocked Mak back about three weeks when we were in Mexico with that head-drop!” King jokes. “No pobo indeed!” With both men down and seemingly not moving, Eddy Long starts the ten count… “ICHI!” “NEE!” “SAN!” “SHI!” “GO!” “RO-KO-” Both shakily make it up to their feet, but Mak is first to act, raising his leg going for another high kick… …But Hawke ducks underneath and grabs Mak about the waist looking for his second German suplex of the match! He heaves, but Mak laces his leg with Jay’s and gains wrist control with his good arm! “Standing switch!” Pete shouts, as Mak ducks in behind Hawke so as not to eat a back elbow, while grabbing him about the waist! The crowd is all standing after the previous display of no-selling into a standing ten count. Mak, his right arm shaking in pain heaves for all he’s worth, tossing Hawke 270 degrees onto his belly!!! *THUD!* Hawke lands face first onto the canvas and the crowd explodes in applause, more flash bulbs going off. “There’s that ‘Super-filthy’ German suplex we’ve seen from Francis recently, King!” Pete shouts, as Mak falls to the ground staring up at the lights of the Budokan! “He just gave the Dean a lesson on how to throw a REAL German suplex!” And once again they are both down for a ten count. Long does his job and begins to count… “ICHI!” “NEE!” “SAN!” “SHI!” “GO!” “RO-KO!” “SHICHI!” “HACHI-” And at eight both men make it too their feet!! Jay Hawke rushes forward swinging away in a lariat, but Mak ducks underneath, grabbing Hawke in a half nelson and wrapping his other arm about his neck, yanking him down across his knee in a Three quarters backbreaker!!! Mak picks Hawke up off the ground and tries to whip him, but Hawke tugs on his weakened arm and reverses, sending Mak into the ropes. The Franchise halts himself in the ropes and Jay runs towards him in a blind charge, only to get elevated up and overhead in a release Northen Lights suplex over the top rope – but luckily Hawke grabs the cable and regains his balance. Mak turns around and- *POKE!* “ROLLING THUMB!” King bellows in glee, as Hawke pops Mak in the eye with his opposable digit. The Franchise stumbles back away from the ropes, holding his face, as Hawke sizes him up. Holding the ropes, Hawke leans back and slingshots himself up to the top rope, balancing for a second, before leaping off in a flying clothesline! Jay extends his arm, looking for the clothesline, when suddenly Mak turns around, taking a giant step forward- *CRACK!* -And FORCE FEEDS HAWKE HIS BOOT YAKUZA KICKING HIM OUT OF MID-AIR!!!! Jay Hawke falls to the mat like a sack of meat, spread eagle, as Mak tumbles to the canvas with him, his foot leaving from just underneath Hawke’s jaw!!! “Holy sh-[beep]!” Pete shouts, as the Japanese crowd once again shows approval of the match with a respectful clap. “He kicked his goddamn head off! This time the cheating that has worked all match backfired on Hawke!” Mak sits on his back, staring up at the lights, trying to catch his breath and go for what should be an academic cover. King bemoans the situation, acting like he wasn’t impressed moments ago. “Yeah it was oka—hey, what the hell is he doing?” The Franchise slowly gets up to a knee grabbing Hawke by the hair and tries to stand… “I think Mak Francis is making sure this match is over, King.” “And now we go to school” Mak shouts out, with a smirk for the audience as he slaps on a front facelock, his right arm shaking in pain… “He’s going for the Franchise Tag, but can he get Hawke up?” Pete questions. “Although, he was able to get Spike up and look where that left him. I guess the real question is could Hawke kick out if he hits it?!” He cradles the leg with his left and locks his hands together… “I still can’t believe Spike kicked out of the Franchise Tag, Pete!” King says, shaking his head. “I mean what does that say about the move, if Spike Jenkins kicked out of it!” And with a pained grunt, middling between a snarl and a shout of agony, lifts Jay Hawke into the air!!! “HE GOT HIM UP!” Pete screams, as Mak pauses for a second, his arm quaking under the pressure of maintaining the cradle… before kicking his legs out, jumping into the air and simply sending Hawke’s head careening into the canvas with the cranium crushing FRANCHISE TAG! “If Spike can do it, Hawke should have no problem…” King mumbles… *BANG!* The Suicide King cringes at the sound of the impact, and Pete just shakes his head. The crowd shows their appreciation with a standing ovation! *CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!* “I have been wrong before, but I don’t think Hawke will be kicking out of that…” Pete says stunned, as Mak lies back into a cover, draping his body across the near-unconscious form of his opponent. Long drops to make his count, the crowd politely chanting along… “ICHI!” “NEE!” “SAN!” *Ding! Ding! Ding!* “The winner of this match, by pinfall… “THE FRANCHISE”… MAK FRAAAAAAAAAAAANCISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” Long bends down and raises Mak’s left hand in the air, as he cradles his right. The Japanese crowd continues their cheers, as Francis pushes himself up to his feet. “As heated as Mak Francis was, maybe it’s a good thing Hawke didn’t kick out of the Franchise Tag, because I don’t know what Mak would do if somebody kicked out of it again.” Pete says. “But he needed the win and got it, after a brutal kick to the face and the Franchise Tag! With Mak Francis back on the path to success it won’t be long until he’s gunning for one of the two men in the Main Event tonight.” “Please, both Ejiro and Toxx made him tap like a bitch, back to back! I don’t think he wants any more of either of them.” “They made him tap, King.” Pete says. “I’d say that’s more than enough of a reason.” Pete’s words hang in the air as Lockdown fades…

Ben Hardy is backstage. “Folks, I’m here with former SWF Cruiserweight Champion Scott Pretzler. Mr. Pretzler, the fans of the SWF seem to think that you owe them an explanation for your actions last Friday against Wildchild.” Pretzler looks at him quizzically. “My actions? Do refresh my memory.” “Well, you demolished his cranium with a steel chair and cost him the Cruiserweight Championship.” “Oh, that. The reason I asked is because I wasn’t sure that needed an explanation.” “But, Mr. Pretzler, it was a blatant flouting of the rules. And you do preach the values of honor and respect.” To this, Pretzler smiles and grabs the microphone from Hardy’s hand. “One thing I particularly adore is the accusations of hypocrisy that have been leveled at me. How, they ask, can a person who claims to promote sportsmanship and pure wrestling, how can this person continue to preach such values while blatantly interfering in match after match? How can his words be taken seriously when his actions contradict them? In truth, there is no contradiction at all. This is merely a case of the end justifying the means.” He pauses and straightens his collar. “I have made it no secret that I detest the Wildchild. Every time he steps into the ring and performs one of his ludicrous tumbles, my blood boils. Every time such behavior is applauded by the fans, steam pours from ears, nose, and various bodily cavities. What bothers me above all is when apologists make the argument that by taking unnecessary bumps and performing three flips in a row when zero would do just fine, that when he does this, Wildchild is sacrificing his body for the art of wrestling. Excuse me? This could not be further from the truth. Rather, it is wrestling that is sacrificed each time he somersaults from a ladder or dives through a wooden table. It is not his safety that is disregarded – it is the hard work and reputations of men like Lou Thesz and Karl Gotch, men like Toshiaki Kawada and Aja Kong, men like Tom Flesher… and me, who have devoted ourselves wholly and truly to this great sport. A few weeks ago when I was at the gym, I decided to test myself. As preparation for my match at Battleground, I performed 2500 repetitions of the exercise known as the Hindu Squat. Keep in mind that a person just beginning to use the Hindu Squat in his routine is advised to do no more than twenty or thirty. Five hundred is my standard. But I wanted to be sure I was ready for my match, so I quintupled that number. While I was doing them, I felt just fine and dandy. I loved life. I was a rainbow of joy. A shoot shimmering rainbow of joy. “The next day, I woke up and tried to get out of bed. I could not. I tried to move my knee joints past forty-five degrees. I could not. When, hours later, I finally managed to crawl into the bathroom and heave my magic wand over the edge of the toilet bowl, it was not urine that came out but a thick brown substance resembling Mr. Pibb. Because, you see, I had destroyed so much muscle fiber during my workout that I was literally pissing it out. This went on for several days. Several days of non-stop agony. Now that, my friends, is dedication. But the more one loves professional wrestling, the more one cannot help but wince at the actions of the Wildchild. ” He crosses his arms and nods, seemingly satisfied. Hardy takes the microphone and begins to speak. “Some rather inflammatory words of wisdom from the former champion,” says Hardy—and Pretzler suddenly wrenches the microphone from his hand once more. “And let me say something else. Wildchild, hen you denied me a second shot at the Cruiserweight Championship, you thumbed your nose at the concept of sportsmanship. As far as I’m concerned, you deserved to lose ever brain cell that those chair shots cost you. And as you may also know, I consider myself a fairly close acquaintance of Mr. Tom Flesher. During our most recent conversation, I spoke to him at length regarding the cruiserweight division. And the title. You see, you, Insane Luchador, and myself are the top ranking members in this division. The Luchador is the reigning champion, and you, of course, were recently defeated by him for that very title. Which means… ”I am the next one in line. If all goes as planned – and there’s no reason why it should not – I will be receiving my long-belated championship match next Monday on Smarkdown. Make no mistake: Rickmen will be disposed of in short order. There will be a new champion. And when I wear the belt once more, I will go out of my way to ensure that you will never be given another opportunity to regain it. “Then again, if I were you I’d be worrying less about Scott Pretzler and more about my tag team title match tonight. Just some friendly advice. Now if you’ll ex—“ “You son of a beetch!” As Pretzler’s gaze wanders to his right, he suddenly glimpses an enraged Wildchild charging in his direction… very, very fast. He drops the microphone and runs for dear life. He rounds a corner and disappears from sight, Wildchild sprinting after him so recklessly that he knocks over the cameraman, causing the camera to clatter to the floor and black out.

The commercial for Lil’ Buck’s “Ebonics Scrabble” fades away and SWF Lockdown returns at the legendary Nippon Budokan Hall in Tokyo, Japan. “We are back and live at the Nippon Budokan Hall in Tokyo, Japan!” LDP screams over the rallied fans. “Right and I couldn’t be happier,” King says. “Really?” “As long as they keep bowing to me and giving me free Bocky,” he says. “Uh… I think they are called-” “Now listen, I know a Bocky when I see one and I love the Bocky,” King firmly replies to the giggling of fans. LDP groans and leans over to whisper Bocky’s slang meaning in Japan before SK groans. “Pocky! Pocky! Those are great!” He awkwardly tries to correct himself. “Those are quite delicious.” “POCKY!” King shouts before regaining his control. “Anyway, tonight’s Lockdown could not be any more exciting- in our second main event we have Ejiro Fasaki challenging Toxxic for the World Heavyweight Championship!” He hypes the main event to the rallied fans. “So Fasaki gets shut out in front of some of his most loyal fans, delicious,” King laughs to the jeers of the fans. “Tonight our first main event is a TLC match where Wild and Dangerous will defend against Martial Law and also the hottest recent team- Manson and Arch Griffon,” LDP explains. “Don’t forget we get to see Dean whoop up on ‘The Franchise,’” King reminds. “Oh and the rematch between Jay Hawke and Lil’ Buck sans the booze.” “First we have an explosive opener. On Storm the Insane Luchador gained double gold when he defeated the Wildchild to become our Cruiserweight and Hardcore Gamers Championship after Scott Pretzler got involved,” LDP recaps. “Whether it’s the way either man would have wanted it to happen or not, he is now a dual champion!” “Definition of lose-lose situation though, IL or WC? Insane Luchador or Wildchild... it was like a nightmare. Pretzler was the only reason I personally kept awake,” King replies. “Tonight he will not have to defend either title- but represent both of them. We arranged a special little match up where two contenders will get a shot at breaking the Luchador into the hard life of being a dual champion,” LDP says. “If I was still around I’d strip him of at least one title,” King pouts. “Why?” “I’m still evil, damn it!” King snaps back. LDP ignores his partner. “He’s going to be up against the team of our latest psycho, Bryan Rodgers, and Spike Jenkins! It will be a handicap match but not with any standard rules. No, that would be too easy for all three. Instead we decided that each competitor represents a division- Spike’s a cruiser, Rodgers is ideal hardcore division material,” LDP explains. “So there was one logical conclusion- screw Luchador over with two stipulations within the match,” King says with glee. “When Spike Jenkins is inside the ring it is a Cruiserweight Rules match which means the outside ring count is twenty and throwing an opponent over the top rope is illegal. When Bryan Rodgers enters the ring it becomes a hardcore match- anything goes. First falls win and this has the potential to be very interesting…” LDP takes over with the explanation. “Right because each man is fighting for an unofficial shot at their title- Spike and Bryan both want a pin for their own sake but they have to cooperate for the win… plus this is the first time either will interact in any way, shape, or form,” King interjects. “Plus when it’s a hardcore stipulation there’s nothing stopping from Jenkins just leaping in that ring with the double teaming action. But whether or not he’ll risk the chance of being knocked out in the hardcore stipulation is up to him. He fought against Dace during the SJL in arguably the most brutal match- Damnation in a Box,” LDP reminds. “So he’s not afraid to leap in but if he gets too worn out then he’s no good,” King fills in the blanks. “This match is scheduled for one fall…” Funyon’s voice echoes. The world is a vampire… Sent to drain Secret Destroyers… hold you up to the flames [i/] Smashing Pumpkin’s “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” begins and Bryan Rodgers appears to small cheers from the crowd. He walks out with his studded belt, faded blue jeans, and an SWF t-shirt. His bleached blonde shoulder-length hair is let loose that sharply contrasts with his dark chin strap beard. “Introducing from Richmond, Virginia… weighing in at 237 pounds… ‘TTHHHEEE MMMAANNNIIIAACCC’ BBBBRRYYYYAAANNN ROOOODDDGGEERSS!” “Those signature Rodgers’ ‘Nazi-Stompin’ boots are laced up were given to him by his old mentor,” LDP says. “These boots were made for stomping,” King agrees. “Not walking because that’s just what they’d do…” LDP begins before getting a glare from King. He stops at the very start of the aisle as he lights up a cigarette as the song continues. He takes a long drag before beginning his walk towards the entrance ramp as the fans love every cancerous second of the second hand smoke. “He may be new to this federation but he’s gaining popularity quickly,” LDP says. “They claim he’s a ‘jack of all trades’ and that makes me wonder why the hell he resorts to hardcore matches,” King tacks on. “Well it’s a selective breed…” LDP begins to explain. Rodgers reaches ringside and enters through the middle rope as he continues to smoke his cigarette. Inside the ring Matthew Kivell coughs and points to his chest then motions at the cigarette as Bryan lets out a sigh. He walks over towards the turnbuckle and stubs the cigarette out before letting out a smoker’s cough. “Christ, I [i/] can feel the cancer,” King jokes. There’s not a moment of silence in the arena before the obnoxious sound of a needle on record player begins. “Here is the man that just recently beat Mak Francis,” LDP recaps. Lamb of God’s “Black Label” crashes like a tidal wave across the arena to a heated mixed reaction. The drums electrify the fans and they all brace themselves- AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Bright white lights flash everywhere as the song kicks into full gear. Spike Jenkins comes out in his black-and-yellow hooded leather jacket, the straight-edge tank top, the baggy jean shorts, his face and blonde hair with red highlights are covered by the hood. “Introducing from Hollywood, California… weighing in at 225 pounds… SSPPPIIKKKEEE JEENNKKKIINNNS!” Funyon yells. Spike walks down the ring aisle as Bryan Rodgers stand in center of the ring with an approving nod of his tag team partner. He reaches ringside and rolls into the ring all the way to the center where he stands up. Spike and Bryan exchange a hand slap as the two begin to discuss impromptu strategy. “It’s good that they are formulating a plan first because the Insane Luchador has really been stepping up since his return… well since, ever,” LDP says. “Not saying much now is it?” King taunts. Two drums snap off and the fans go absolutely nuts. A guitar grinds away as the eerie voices pick up- Aaahhhhhhhh-aahhhhhhhh-aahh-aahhh “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains picks up as suddenly two bursts of red and black pyrotechnics launch off. The cheers grow more intense as Insane Luchador steps out onto the entrance ramp. He stands tall with both arms in the air and both belts glistening in each hand. “There’s our dual champion!” LDP squeals like a schoolgirl. “Yeah but it won’t last too much longer,” King snorts. Insane Luchador is clad in a black and white “Dying to Live” Zero t-shirt, baggy khaki cargoes, the beaten up skate shoes, and the sloppily spiked black hair. He stares down the aisle at his two opponents with an intense glare and a smirk to boot. “He looks focused and I doubt he’ll be taking this match lightly,” LDP says. “Next, from Easton, Pennsylvania… weighing in at 201 pounds… he is YOUR H-G-C AND CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION- IIIIIIINNNNSSSSSAAAAANNNNEEEEE LLLLUUUCCCHHHHHHAAADOOOOR!” He breaks into a dead sprint down the aisle with his arms outstretched with the gold for display. He dives from ringside straight into the ring and rolls up, nailing both of his foes with a title belt! The Hardcore Gamers Championship sends Bryan to the canvas and the Cruiserweight Champion sends Jenkins reeling. “What a cheap trick!” King protests at Luchador's actions. “It took them off guard and now their communication has been quickly halted,” LDP defends. Luchador turns and tosses both belts at Kivell as he rolls his shoulders waiting for one of his opponents to attack. Fumbling with the belts Matthew hands off the belts and calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! Spike Jenkins and Bryan Rodgers both charge at the Luchador at the same time but nearly collide into each other. They both holler at who should start off the match and the hostility rises as Spike boldly shoves Bryan. The Maniac quickly responds with nailing a clothesline to his own partner who smacks against the canvas. Jenkins rolls to his feet and looks to go after Rodgers but Kivell steps in. “My God, if they want any chance of winning they need to cooperate. It’s a nasty situation- each ego and each desires’ for a potential title shot is clouding their logic,” Pete observes. “They aren’t a tag team and they hardly know each other- this is Luchador’s only hope,” King says. Kivell has to restrain Spike and calmly tells him to get to the ring apron. He grudgingly does so with a glare at his partner. “Bryan Rodgers versus Insane Luchador first and this means it’s a hardcore match,” LDP explains. Rodgers bobs his head cockily at Spike’s retreat and turns around only to be ambushed. Insane Luchador comes down on his opponent with rapid strikes. He steps back and snaps off a jab at Luchador to buy time then gets in a hook. Luchador’s strikes cease and his opponent comes in with right hands. But the pugnacious Luchador only begins to match him with right hands as they begin to exchange punches. “Two psychos, one ring, who will dominate?” King sarcastically says. The Maniac rifles off a vicious right hook that sends Luchador reeling back. He switches directions and pauses before yelling- “FLAIR!” “What? Flare?” LDP asks. “He’s crazy. Who knows,” King sighs. “Flare on his performance… like panache?” LDP continues to be puzzled. Bryan Rodgers initiates his famous Retro-Revolution as he takes on the persona of Ric Flair. He struts towards his opponent and draws back his arm before lashing the dual champion’s chest with a knife-edged chop! WWWWWHOOOOOOOOOO! Insane Luchador draws back his arm but Rodgers already has another- SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Luchador clutches his chest and takes a step back which incites another strut. But this time the smacks him down with a brutal clothesline! Rodgers is floored but rolls right back to his feet only to be whipped into the ropes. He comes charging back and as Luchador lunges towards him he drops to his stomach and slides through his legs. He hops up and Luchador whirls around- only to be stabbed! “What… was… was that a fork?” LDP asks. “…It was plastic too,” King notes. “How bizarre,” LDP says. Luchador barely even flinches but stares at Rodgers in absolute disbelief at the plastic fork stabbing at his chest. But the discombobulating scheme works and Rodgers is able to blast the Luchador away with a dropkick. He crumbles and rolls to the mat right at their corner where Spike can reach. As he stands up, still confused, Jenkins reaches over and grabs him by both arms, tugging him back. He shouts directions at Bryan who charges over. To appease the fans he whirls around and throws up his elbow right as Luchador slips away. Rodgers nails his own partner who flies to the outside and against the barricade as Bryan simply shrugs. “That definitely won’t help their teamwork,” LDP says. “Well Spike can jump in there but isn’t,” King points out. The Psychotic Hero, Insane Luchador, grunts and sends a knee to the back of Rodgers. He waits as Bryan arches his back in response as he grabs his hair, tugs his face back, and smacks him in the face with a punch. But instead of letting go he gives a mighty heave, through Bryan through the middle rope. Spike, on one knee, looks up only to have Rodgers smack against him from the ring. The fans cheer as Insane Luchador slowly backs away as both of his opponents begin to argue while getting to their feet. “Before we know it this will become a triple threat match,” LDP chuckles. The duo on the outside both groggily get to their feet as Luchador breaks into a charge towards the ropes. As he approaches the ropes he leaps into the air and flies out with his signature Crossbody. “Crossbody to the outside,” LDP says. “Luchador knows he can’t let chances like this go by and he knows two men will outlast even his endurance!” As he descends both opponents realize the situation and they both catch a section of the Insane Luchador. “Luchador gets caught by the Rokins,” King says. “Rokins?” “Rodgers… Jenkins... do you get it?” King condescendingly explains. “It’s just stupid.” “No Miami Mayhem was just stupid,” King counters. “Go suck a Bocky,” LDP snaps back. The temporary tag team both glance over at each and agree as he both heave Luchador into the steel steps. The steps dislodge as IL rolls off of them with a groan. Spike is quick to react as he swoops down and makes the cover- Only to be tugged up by his blonde hair courtesy of Rodgers. “Here we go again…” LDP sighs. Insane Luchador gets to his knees and grabs the steel steps before standing up. As the two opponents bicker like an old couple Insane Luchador throws the steps at them. Spike gets smacked in the back and rolls into the ring in a panicked retreat. Rodgers, however, stands his ground and charges after the Luchador. But the dual champion leaps up and smacks Bryan in the gut with a knee. He halts his charge and then throws him into the ring as he slides in himself. “Luchador taking back control quickly after that drop to the steel steps, brilliant idea but poor execution afterwards,” LDP says. Both Bryan Rodgers and Spike Jenkins stand on their feet by the time Luchador gets to his. Few words are exchanged as Luchador inches his way towards center of the ring as Spike hops over the ropes to the ring apron. Bryan Rodgers turns around and holds out his hand and the two make a tag. “It’s a whole new game now. Now that Spike is the legal man in it is a Cruiserweight Rules match,” LDP explains. Rodgers retreats the apron as Spike Jenkins steps into the ring. Jenkins and IL begin to circle in the center of the ring before colliding in a grapple. He jukes behind the Luchador and locks in a waistlock! Insane Luchador throws back an elbow and smacks him in the head then breaks free from the waistlock. He turns around as Spike throws a kick towards his opponent but Luchador catches it. He throws and spins Jenkins to his back before clutching his opponent then lifts him up for the backdrop suplex. “Backdrop suplex attempt,” LDP says. Spike Jenkins exhibits his agility and flips his weight over in a backward to land on his feet. Luchador whirls around only to have his opponent hook his arm underneath his opponent’s arm and drapes it over his neck. But before he can drop to his knees the Insane Luchador throws an elbow and slips away. He steps behind his opponent but gets a back thrust kick towards his stomach! He doubles over as Spike whirls around and goes for the standing head scissors. “He might be trying for The Ratings Crash!” King shouts. “It would put away Luchador quickly!” The dual champion however lifts up his back and flips Spike over his back onto the canvas. Escaping the standing headscissors he turns to face Spike who scrambles to his feet. IL bombards him as he begins to throw jabs, hooks, leg kicks, and every other strike as a prelude to his chain of strikes. “He could be going for the Legacy of Brutality!” LDP cries out. Meanwhile Rodgers sees Spike try to come towards him but he drops to the floor. Outside the ring Bryan Rodgers is apathetic to Luchador’s string of strikes, the Legacy of Brutality, as he digs underneath the ring apron. “I think he’s going digging for the Death Chair,” LDP predicts. Inside the ring Spike Jenkins catches the Luchador with a roundhouse kick and stops his assault. He tries to leap out for his vicious lariat but the Luchador ducks underneath it and stands behind his opponent. He quickly wraps his arms around in a waistlock then arches back, throwing Spike over with the release German Suplex! He smacks against the mat and gets folded like an accordion as Luchador doesn’t go for the pin- instead he opts to roll to the outside! On the other side of the ring his other opponent finally finds his signature weapon. He cautiously pulls out a steel chair wrapped around with barbed wire. “There’s the Death Chair,” King says. Inside the ring Matthew Kivell begins the out of ring count- ONE- Spike Jenkins flops over and rolls towards the outside. TWO! Insane Luchador begins to dig underneath the ring unaware of Spike slowly approaching behind him. THREE! On the other side Rodgers begins to approach the Insane Luchador. FOUR! Jenkins towers above him and sends a boot straight into his back. He flops over as Spike swoops down and reaches under the ring apron. FIVE! He suddenly finds what the Luchador was going for. The fans go berserk as Spike Jenkins pulls out the light tube table, eight light tubes bundled together with two shaky legs folded underneath. He stares at it with a huge grin as he tries to slide it into the ring but Kivell rejects the idea. “It’s not a hardcore match, Spike,” LDP points out. Jenkins yells towards Bryan Rodgers who wields his Death Chair and he comes towards the light tube table. SIX! Spike Jenkins snatches Insane Luchador and throws him against the guardrail. He then clutches him once again before rolling him back into the ring. He slides himself back in the ring and immediately tugs the Luchador back to his feet. “Spike Jenkins has his partner grabbing those weapons as he continues to beat on Luchador,” LDP says. Outside the ring Bryan Rodgers stands beside the table and hops onto the apron, beckoning for a tag. But Jenkins refuses and is oblivious to the Luchador who sends a palm strike to the back of his head! He stumbles right into his partner and sends him falling to the outside. He turns around and Luchador shoves him against the ropes, delivering a nasty headbutt. He follows up with an Irish Whip and charges after his opponent. Spike comes back and the Insane Luchador leaps into the air, wraps his legs around his opponent’s neck, and hits a hurricarana! He goes flying towards his corner where he crumbles right out of Bryan’s reach. Spike looks up and this time agrees to tag- hitting the tag as he gets the Death Chair and enters the ring. “He has the Death Chair and it is back to the hardcore rules!” The Insane Luchador charges and leaps into the air for the flying clothesline! But his opponent steps to the side and swings for the stands- CRACK! “Insane Luchador just got knocked out of the air with that Death Chair!” LDP cries out. The dual champion lies on the canvas staring up at the house lights as his opponent drops to his stomach. He leans over the ring apron and snatches the light tube table. He slowly pulls it into the ring. Insane Luchador slowly flops over to his stomach and Rodgers gives him malicious aide. He stands him up and nails a right hand to daze the Psychotic Hero while grabbing the light tube table. He quickly sets it up and he lunges out for a tie-up. “He’s got that light tube table set up!” King says. Luchador sidesteps it and he throws up a knee in desperation that nails him in the gut. He towers over him then locks in the front facelock, grabbing a handful of his faded jeans. Glancing behind himself he sees the light tube table right behind him. “He’s going to go for the suplex!” Insane Luchador hoists the Maniac in the air with the suplex as he is vertical with the light tube table behind him. “Luchador’s looking to drop his opponent through that light tube table!” LDP exclaims. From the corner a crumbled Spike looks up and gets to his feet- charging at the Luchador. Vulnerable to attack Luchador gets smacked with an axe handle and he doubles over, letting Rodgers slip away. Jenkins is quick to secure his own front facelock as Bryan Rodgers angrily begins to pound Luchador’s back with punches. He motions to his opponent to move over as he stands next to his opponent and gets his own front facelock. “This doesn’t look good for Luchador at all!” LDP yells. “I love when they work together,” King says. The duo goes for the lift but Luchador’s leg grapevines around Spike’s leg. His other opponent simply lets go of the face lock and smashes him with an elbow to the back to a series of jeers. He then gets back in on the front facelock. “Luchador’s fighting it but I think he’s going through that tube table!” LDP predicts. Spike and Bryan successfully lift the Luchador and both turn around- CRASH They drop down and bring the Luchador through the table. It shatters and seems to shower glass shards as the cloud from light tubes form above. The fans go berserk in jeers with a few peppered cheers for the tag team. “Luchador taking a suplex by both men right through that table,” LDP says. “This could really be it!” The team shows no mercy as they both swoop down and pick IL up from the wreckage. They let him stand and sway in his lack of coordination before picking another move. “See cooperation makes things happen,” King says. Spike Jenkins looks down at the Death Chair laying a few away from him and he’s struck with an idea. He conveys to Rodgers the move before picking up the chair. “They’ve already shown bouts of teamwork when they’re at an advantage, it’s when things begin to crumble,” LDP points out. He side steps behind his opponent and cracks him in the back with the Death Chair! He lurches forward and Rodgers steps underneath him with his arms ready- latching on, tugging him onto his shoulders, and lifting into the air. “He’s got him in the Electric Chair!” LDP shouts. Spike Jenkins nods and walks over to the turnbuckle. Meanwhile Insane Luchador begins to react as he rains down punches to his opponent. Rodgers sways and even has to step to keep his balance as he yells at Spike to move. His partner vaults onto the top turnbuckle as everything clicks in the fans’ heads- I! L! The chant begins. The Insane Luchador carefully leans himself over and brings down a hard punch at the awkward angle straight into Rodgers’ face! Jenkins holds the chair to his chest and takes flight as Luchador takes another vicious shot- “Spike’s flying towards Luchador with the chair!” LDP screams. “He’s screwed.” King simply puts it. As the last punch connects Rodgers feels his knees buckle and he begins to lurch forward. The HGC and Cruiserweight Champion seizes his opportunity as he throws his weight down and rolls his opponent up. Spike Jenkins soars over the two as his eyes open wide as saucers- smacking against the mat with chair to his chest. There’s a loud wheeze that comes from Spike as he bounces up into the air and even flips over to his back before crumbling to the other side of the ring! IL! IL! IL! “He reversed it and has the pin!” LDP explodes. ONE! “That amazing reversal could win him this match!” LDP yells. “Damn it, no!” King shouts. TWO! Behind them Spike Jenkins staggers to his feet as his torn up chest from the Death Chair begins to pump blood. But in his determination and rage he picks back up the chair and stares. THRE- but Rodgers’ breaks free and Luchador doesn’t waste time to mourn. He rolls to his feet and turns around to see a rushing Spike Jenkins. “These men are now just using the reserve tank because they know if any of them plays it right this could be over!” LDP yells. “This wasn’t nearly the walk in the park Rodgers or Jenkins thought!” “It’s Luchador, who can blame them?” King burns the dual champion. Behind him Bryan Rodgers reaches an arm out and grabs the end of one broken light tube and he rolls to his feet. Luchador waits for Spike to attack but instead gets the light tube scrapped down his back! Jenkins rapidly approaches with his chair ready to make the blow. Luchador groans as the light tube rips through his shirt and flesh while the Maniac drags it down. Insane Luchador barks in pain as the Maniac stands above him as he looks to begin the same process down Luchador’s neck! The fans jeer and wince in sympathy for the dual champion. Spike Jenkins draws back Rodgers’ signature chair and gets ready to swing- “Now that’s brutality!” King cheers on. Bryan Rodgers tugs away the light tube and Spike goes for the swing as Luchador drops down the canvas in agony along with protection. Cheers arise as Jenkins can’t stop the chair’s momentum as it smacks his partner with the Death Chair right in the face! Bryan Rodgers is plastered against the canvas as Jenkins immediately looks to Luchador. “Bryan’s beginning to bleed and he may be out!” LDP observes. Your Psychotic Hero rolls away and onto one knee. He begins to stand up right as the chair comes crashing down- “Luchador dodges the chair shot!” LDP cries out. Spike grunts in frustration but aims again with a mighty swing only for it to be evaded. “Feel the breeze!” King taunts. This time Jenkins steps behind the Luchador and swings it like a baseball bat- SMACK! Luchador falls to one knee as it nearly snaps his vertebrae. He begins to stumble forward as Spike takes a run at the ropes. He comes rocketing back at his opponent who begins to stand back to his feet. He begins to bring the chair above head but the Insane Luchador launches out a kick to his opponent’s gut! Spike Jenkins drops the chair and IL locks a headlock. He leaps into the air and tugs him down, dropping him down with the Evenflow DDT with a sickening thud that vibrates through the arena! The fans go absolutely insane and the cheers could rock Tokyo more than any entrance by Godzilla versus King Kong. He flops Spike off of the chair, revealing the dent, and revealing the blood being to flow down his opponent’s face. With a thunderous roar of approval he hooks the leg with the cover- “EVENFLOW ONTO THE DEATH CHAIR!” LDP hollers. ONE! “This should do it!” “How incompetent can two men be?” King explodes. TWO! Bryan Rodgers staggers towards the two- THREE! DING! DING! DING! The fans cheers continue to pour in as it drowns out Alice in Chain’s “Man in the Box.” “YOUR WINNER… IIINNNSSSAAAAANNNEEEEEE LLLUUUCCCHHHHHAAADOOOR!” “Insane Luchador overcomes the handicap odds with the Evenflow DDT!” LDP recaps. “But don’t go away because we have so much more!” -Fade to Black-

“Fans, I am here backstage with the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Toxxic!” Ben Hardy exclaims into the camera. “Tonight he will defend the World Title against a returning SWF legend, the one and only Ejiro Fasaki. My question to you is this,” the interviewer continues, turning to face the straight-edger beside him; “do you think you can win?” “Of course I think I can bloody win,” Toxxic snorts, “I wouldn’t have flown out here if I didn’t.” “OK,” Hardy says, sighing under his breath and wondering why it’s always the difficult ones that he has to interview. “So are you not in the least bit worried about Ejiro’s mindset, given that you assaulted his sister on the last broadca-” “Whoah whoah, hold it right there sunshine,” Toxxic interjects. “Before you get all high and mighty on me, just remember that she hit me first! Now,” the Brit continues, “I can see that you’re a bit dubious about the whole morality of this Ben, so let me break it down for you. Would you hit a man who was a fair bit bigger than you, a good deal stronger than you, and fought people for a living when you had no training?” “Well…” Hardy begins uncertainly. “Exactly,” Toxxic interrupts him again. “I know what you’re thinking; ‘but she’s a girl, Toxx!’. Well Ben, for your information I’ve wrestled two girls for this title, Andrea Montgomery and Annie Onita. I hit both of them - in fact I handcuffed Annie and pasted her in the head with a chair, as I recall - and I don’t remember a massive fuss made about that. This ain’t about the fact that she’s female, it’s about the fact that she was relatively helpless. My argument is this; if you’re relatively helpless, don’t go bloody hitting someone who’s capable of laying you out.” “…I see,” Ben Hardy says, evidently deciding not to pursue that line of questioning any further. “But all the same, it’s fair to say that Ejiro Fasaki is not going to be pleased with you; do you think that might play a role in the outcome of tonight’s match?” “Yeah, sure,” Toxxic agrees. “He’s gonna be angry, and angry people make mistakes. Ben,” the World Champion continues, adjusting the title belt slung over his shoulder, “I’m not that worried by Ejiro. I’m no more worried by Ejiro than I am at the prospect of facing, say, Johnny Dangerous. In fact, let’s make a brief comparison. Both are jumped-up tag team wrestlers, am I right?” “I don’t know about-” Hardy begins, but Toxxic doesn’t let him finish. “Yeah, it stands to reason you don’t know much,” the straight-edger snorts, “that’s why you’re asking bloody questions all the time. But I digress; both jumped-up tag team wrestlers, who were part of a record-breaking tag team as a result of being carried by their partners.” “I think that’s-” “…being carried by their partners, who were both notorious Hardcore Champions,” Toxxic carries on. “Well, the Wildchild and Judge Mental were-” “-in the absence of their partners, both men stepped up to win the World Title, a reign that lasted a few weeks and was ultimately pointless.” “I really don’t think-” “…both men then lose the title and leave the fed to sulk for a little while,” Toxxic ploughs on, “before returning some point later displaying a partially changed attitude. As in; Ejiro’s trying not to cheat, and Johnny’s starting to develop something approaching a personality.” “Oh come on,” Hardy protests, “I don’t-” “-ultimately, they’re pretty similar,” Toxxic concludes. “The only notable difference is that Ejiro has a fit sister.” “So if we take your comparison to be a true and accurate one,” Hardy says carefully, “are we to assume that the end result will be the same? After all,” the SWF’s Number One Announcer continues, preparing himself for an unpleasant reaction, “Johnny Dangerous did beat you for the World Title in your first one-on-one meeting.” “That’s true,” Toxxic agrees easily, “but we have a saying in my country, Ben.” “Once bitten, twice shy?” “No,” Toxxic corrects him, “Ben Hardy can eat a bag of dicks.” There is a brief silence as Ben Hardy tries to remember exactly why he took this announcing gig instead of staying in the SJL. “But enough of this,” Toxxic grins at his interviewer. “The stats speak for themselves, Ben. Ejiro’s one and only title reign lasted three weeks. My second title reign lasted three months. I’m gonna go straight through Ejiro and get to the three month mark with this title reign as well, and then I’m going to go beyond that and hit one hundred days. And after that… who knows?” the Straight-Edge Sensation says. “But tell me one thing; do you think Ejiro can beat me?” “Well, it’s difficult to say,” Hardy admits after a couple of second’s thought, “but overall I‘d have to say; yes, I believe Ejiro Fasaki could beat you.” “Ben?” “Yes?” Hardy asks. A familiar, menacing, lopsided grin spreads over Toxxic’s face. “…Prepare To Be Proved Wrong.” FADE OUT

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the National Anthem.” Funyon steps into the ring to a round of polite applause, and the background music begins to play. Nothing can dwell....In your living hell Gangsters left dead roses at his store front, it was a warning sign. If he doesn't pay that green back fast his death his wife could grieve. He's banging his head against the wall with frustration. He placed his family's lives in a bad situation. He thought he was smarter and he could get over. Now life is ticking away. He's coming closer to danger. Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza... I'd hate to be caught down in that trap. Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza... Life is so damn sweet. The drop off spot was at Central Park right by Alice and wonderland. It better be paid by twelve o'clock or you can kiss your life good-bye. I feel it best you pay the rest of this money by noon or suffer the consequences, before things go kaboom. You know what can happen in Brooklyn or Manhattan. Betrail has a pattern which is usually death. What about your faith and your spirituality your meditations and your prayers daily. You burnt all possible allies with your deceit at your peak. You stomped and crushed on the meek You heard the words but you ignore the signs. You cross the line so you must pay the price Now you're running scared, you're running scared. Yeah your heart is pumping, your heart is pumping. Nothing can dwell in your living hell. No diggidy no diggidy no diggidy You must move on, you must proceed. Now life is ticking away. He's coming closer to danger. Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza... I'd hate to be caught down in that trap. Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza... Life is so damn sweet. The drop off spot was at Central Park right by Alice and wonderland. It better be paid by twelve o'clock or you can kiss your life good-bye. I feel it best you pay the rest of this money by noon or suffer the consequences, before things go kaboom. You know what can happen in Brooklyn or Manhattan. Betrail has a pattern which is usually death. What about your faith and your spirituality your meditations and your prayers daily. You burnt all possible allies with your deceit at your peak. You stomped and crushed on the meek You heard the words but you ignore the signs. You cross the line so you must pay the price Now you're running scared, you're running scared. Yeah your heart is pumping, your heart is pumping. Nothing can dwell in your living hell. No diggidy no diggidy no diggidy You must move on, you must proceed. Funyon dodges a hail of bullets amidst the applause for his stirring rendition of the Pilfers’ “Yakuza.” With that, the show fades in.

This promo was underrated.

http://forums.theswf.com/ No use having them linked if they're not operational. I highly advise you not to commence legal action against the SWF.

Might I add... the name is ass.

My high school (class of 2000) had no qualms about letting two girls go together, although the principal made sure to watch very closely lest they behave inappropriately. Yes, that'll do.

Yeah, I'm just gun-shy about pregnancy angles. I'd also suggest everyone read Mak's match. It's anglelicious.

::dodges the Yakuza kick:: Judge used to talk about building up a particular move as incredibly deadly... like the Demonstar was built, never using it, just talking about it... and then busting it out in a match, only to have it no-sold completely. The guy with the big move ends up losing, and it's never mentioned again. Until two weeks later, at which point the guy is cutting a promo and suddenly collapses in a heap. (Y)

If I were on this card, I'd make sure to include my delayed sell. Get dumped on head, roll through, pop up, shotei, collapse. Convulsions optional.

In the interest of consistency, I reserve judgment on Pregnant Megan but assume it will suck. Thank you. That is all.

Hey, don't hate on the SDMB.

8.00

You're wrestling. Every minute the action stops, or presumably if you're in a hold it continues, and the designated wrestler takes a shot of cinammon schnapps.

Not that I want to start a psychology debate, but... ignoring for the moment that the Axe Bomber draws on Danny's elbow/forearm offense, Spike is a cruiser. Spike's lariat is a cruiser killer. Something somewhat fungible with a lariat put Spike down. I don't see the devaluation anywhere in there.

I'm sorry, guys. I'm just too fried from finals hell to do the commentification you guys deserve.

HEY! YOU GUYS GET BACK ON TOPIC! Nah, just fuckin' with you.

Attention Spike and QMM: Please send your match to chirs3 instead of Ace309, as some cad assigned me to mark, apparently forgetting that I have an exam on Monday afternoon. The person responsible will no doubt be very embarrassed due to the inconvenience he has caused.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, MAY 9th, 2005, LIVE FROM THE ESTADIO NACIONAL IN SANTIAGO, CHILE! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) Next stop on the SWF's International Tour o' Terror - CHILE! And next week, AUSTRALIA~! Send everything (booking requests, promos, chili recipes, etc.) to Chuck Woolery. Main Event – TRIOS LOCOS~! Ejiro Fasaki, Arch Griffon and Manson vs. Revolution Zero (“The Critic” Scott Pretzler and JJ Johnson) and “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” Jay Hawke © ~ Ejiro Fasaki is lying in wait for a shot at Toxxic, who wasn’t able to make it for this leg of the tour due to previous contractual obligations. (Yes, that’ll do.) In the meantime, Pretzler and Johnson, Toxxic’s two henchmen and two of the top wrestlers in the SWF, will team up with fellow general bastard Jay Hawke to try to take Fasaki out. Preferably using armbars. Meanwhile, Arch Griffon and Manson continue watching their stock rise, and after defeating Martial Law on the last show, are clearly in line for a shot at the Tag Team Championships. Johnson and Pretzler, of course, want a shot as well. Lots of scores may be settled here. Then again, maybe it’ll just be a romp. Rules: Standard. No way I’m making you guys learn lucha rules. Oh, and this is Smarkdown. Use the tag ropes, but not to choke someone. Word Limit: 6500 Send To: Chuck Woolery Sub-Main Event – Battleground Rematch! “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins vs. ??? ~ These two know who they are, but were robbed of a chance at fighting it out on pay-per-view by a loss of the satellite feed. (Yes, that’ll do.) Tonight, they’ll get another chance to put on a show, this time in a situation controlled by Tom Flesher, who’s pleased as hell to get to sponsor this one. Between Spike’s shoteis and QMM’s … offense, expect multiple shattered orbital bones. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: chirs3 Brotherly Love? Lil’ Buck vs. “The Franchise” Mak Francis ~ With Francis coming off a difficult loss on pay-per-view, he may need a few weeks to find himself. Buck doesn’t give a damn. Alright, folks, let’s get violent. Rules: Standard Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Justice Cruiserweight Rules Non-Title Match Wildchild © vs. Landon “La Cucaracha” Maddix ~ There’s certainly no love lost between Landon Maddix and Wildchild’s partner, Johnny Dangerous. Landon, one of the top prospects in the SWF today, presents an ideal challenge to keep the Cruiserweight Champion on his toes and put on a show for the Santiago crowd! Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda – the count on the outside is 20, not 10, and throwing an opponent over the top rope is grounds for immediate disqualification. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: chirs3 Opening Spot-O-Rama “Maniac” Bryan Rodgers vs. Martin “Big Country” Hunt ~ Martin Hunt, by virtue of being somebody’s cousin (possibly several somebodies), is accompanying the SWF on its world tour. Bryan Rodgers has been working through the developmental system for quite a while, and hopefully he can pop the crowd. Rules: Standard. Hmm… on the one hand, this is Smarkdown, where everything is extra strict. On the other, Rodgers is a rookie deathmatch aficionado and all that entails. Eh, show us what you got. NO RULES! Word Limit: 3000 Send To: Chuck Woolery

Achem. With Hawke, it's the Technical Revolution Zero.

Jimmy Yang goes from being an Elvis impersonator to a member of the Yakuza.

Awww, thanks.

Fixed. There was a typo ([i/]) that left one wild tag out there. Blargle, and such. Johnny/Hawke was really quite close, and because I enjoyed both matches but felt they were both lacking in certain areas, it came down to writing fundamentals more than anything else. Hawke's finish was really appropriate, whereas Johnny's was a little less developed (due to seeming to want to build to one thing and then coming almost out of nowhere with another similar-but-not-the-same finish), but overall Johnny's match was just better. That's not to say Hawke's was bad, but I can comment more in-depth if he starts a thread. I was disappointed that JJJ didn't show for his match with David.