Bruce Blank

I knew I should have read the small print maybe I'll put on a smoking jacket and adopt a Bruce Hefner persona then.

Came out of what?

Oh I'm totally talking about his singles run here, his tag-team with Brunzel was better than just alright and I think that was the best place for Greg Gagne

Alright now that I’ve done my victory lap let’s get down to showtime! The Wildchild / Mike Van Siclen story – good stuff with WC showing a more brutal side than I’ve ever seen, prelude to a heel turn or maybe it’s just a case of “Wildchild loathes Mike Van Siclen” Are we supposed to know exactly why WC has such a distaste for MVS? Or is that part of the story? Either way keep them coming, it’s good to see some stories built (too few and too far apart these days) - An Octopus got eaten?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! - Nemesis debut and he’s a hoss and a half, or maybe he ate a hoss on the way to the ring because that dude is HUGE. Even with the slightly different format it still worked and the big guy got the squash match in that he needed to have, can’t have Ced get in any offence. And boy howdy was he ever squashed, glad to see Ced surviving to go to Ground Zero, even after Nemesis going nuts on the ambulance (is he going to fight the Ambulance next week? Flip it over and pin it?) A promising start - Stephens & Maddix discuss team names passing on the most obvious one Techno Team 2006 Which nicely segue ways into the mystery of the Crimson Dragon. . . or whomever the guy was. Turns out the guy was someone called Gabriel Drake, who’s also the mysterious “Beast” from the board promos. Stephens wets himself – in the bad way, not in a sexual way – so he must know this Drake fellar and I have my suspicious about who’s behind the guy (just watch, it’ll turn out to be a known SWF character that I’m not aware off) Interesting. - Not interesting? Grendel/MVS and the tag-team match - I’m not going to say much about the main event, I am not going to toot my own horn too much I just look forward to the challenges to come.

How about Greg Gagne? Yeah I'll go with Greg

Well that's me lost then - I mean yeah sure Blank could have joined the IGNWF a year ago under some gimmick or something hmmmmmmmm And choice of opponent? *thumbs up* since he did techincally beat Aecas and all, this'll be a hell of a challenge.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY - that's all I can say, more comments when I can wrap my brain around it. and from the sound of it Spike discovered the joys of WoW?

Well Ultimo Villano isn't exactly a "top guy" but he fits the Tourneo concept being part Lucha after all. Maybe we can figure out a story to include the poor unlucky guy?

And there we go - all 8 International Title wins, tune in tonight for the ninth

[Deep booming ”NFL Films” Voiceover] SWF Smarkdown: Phimai, Thailand - May 23rd 2006 ”After winning the International title from Wildchild JJ Johson had already defended the title twice despite having only held the title for 19 days” “While Johnson was busy defending the title an SWF veteran had returned and racked up victory after victory. “The Dark Angel” Aecas had quickly earned himself a shot at the prestigious title. #Flashback# SWF Smarkdown comes back from commercial with a blast, the cameras going right into a wide shot of the temporary ring area in the heart of the Phimai historical park. A swarming mass of SWF fans create a sea of faces at the ringside area and packing the temporary bleachers that have been erected to cram as much humanity into the area as possible. The camera cuts to a sweeping view taking in the happy faces of the crowd and a few waving home made signs bobbing about in the sea of humanity, most of them in Taiwanese and could be anything from offensive rhetoric to homemade soup ingredients. It’s anyone’s guess. The cameras finally cut back to the announcer’s table revealing The Franchise himself ready to continue calling the action and his cynical partner the Suicide King flicking through a small book. “Hello everyone and welcome back to SWF SMARKDOWN! It’s been a great show so far and it’s far from over yet! Coming up next for you we’ve got an International Title match and then we-….King? What you doing?” Mak queries, temporarily off his flow as he finally notices the Suicide King’s book. “Looking through the SWF rulebook if you must know.” King replies acidly as he turns another page before smiling triumphantly. “Why?” “Because I’m going to prove once and for all that Aecas cheated to win his first two matches back in the fed.” King states confidently before thrusting the book under Mak’s nose. “See! It says right there, crotching an opponent on the top rope and Rear naked Chokes are illegal!” “…..But it’s in your handwriting!” Mak fires back before squinting at the page. “And in biro I might add.” The Franchise says, unimpressed. “It’s the official rulebook Mak. It doesn’t lie.” King says with a sneer as he drops the book onto the announcers table only to be presented with a second book. “What this?” “Well I just happened to have the latest official copy of the rules King. Maybe you’d like to have a look at it.” “Sure.” The Suicide King snorts, snatching away the book and following the index. “Let’s see…illegal moves. Number one, Jokers Wil-………WHAT?!” Mak discreetly pulls the Suicide King’s mic plug with a smirk, letting his irate partner rant angrily as he rips up the book. Mak’s discreet action is not a moment too soon as Amon Amarth’s “Death in Fire” suddenly booms through the speakers surrounding the ring area, gouts of white smoke pouring out of the temporary entranceway as the fans come to their feet, their cheers rising into the clear open skies as the next match “Ladies and gentlemen! The following contest is scheduled for one fall! And is for the SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!” Funyon roars out over the cheers of the crowd as Aecas bursts out of the entranceway, forgoing his traditional entrance tonight and striding though the smoke, raising his scythe high into the air. The blade snaps out of the haft to another loud pop from the fans as the Black Angel makes his way swiftly down to the ringside area. “Introducing first, the challenger. Weighing in at 315lbs, and hailing from Shrewsbury, England! He is the Black Angel, AYEEEEEECAAAAAAAAAAAAS!” “And Aecas is wasting no time tonight! Its not every day you’re granted a title shot on your first few shows back!” “Like he deserves one.” King says grumpily, having realised his mic was unplugged.” ”A good champion is always looking for a new challenge King. You should know that….then again maybe you don’t.” Mak says smugly as the Suicide King glares at him. Aecas meanwhile makes his way up the steps and into the ring, taking his scythe in both hands and thrusting it up into the air to another massive cheer of the fans, grinning with anticipation before the a flick of a finger the scythe blade snaps back into the staff and he tosses it almost carelessly to the timekeeper, almost flattening the man before he staggers back to his position. “Aecas certainly looks anxious to get things underway.” Mak says as the Black Angel starts to pace back and forth restlessly. “And who can blame him? Opportunities like this don’t fall in your lap every day at such short notice.” “He doesn’t deserve it Mak. You know it and I know it.” Kings sullen reply is swiftly drowned out by the crowd once more as a quiet voice makes itself heard through the speakers. I do that rather well...don't you think? Cryptopsy's “Crown of Horns” roars from the arena speakers to the delight of the crowd as more smoke billows out of the temporary entranceway and it isn’t long before they truly have something to cheer about as JJ Johnson strides out from the backstage area, Tag and International belts clasped firmly in his right hand as he walks with a purpose. Johnson ignores the fans on either side of the ramp, some cheering him and those less well informed booing him. He doesn’t care; his attention is on the ring and his next challenger for the International title he fought so hard gain. JJ advances up the steps as Funyon raises his mic to his lips once more, walking along the ring apron and mounting the corner, spreading his arms wide to another mixed reaction as Funyon speaks his piece. “And his opponent. One half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and the current International Champion! Weighing in at 233lbs, he is! JAY! JAY JOOOOOOHNSOOOOON!” “Not as big a reaction for JJ as I would have expected King.” Mak says as there is another respectable pop for the champion. “You’re surprised? Seriously what did Aecas ever do to get that over apart from carrying a plant about?” King replies as JJ dismounts the turnbuckle, and hands over his belts to referee Eddy Long, who thrusts the International Title into the air, turning in a slow circle before handing both belts to the departing Funyon. “Well he did lawn dart the Memphis Eel.” “…Point.” Back in the ring JJ turns to face his large opponent, having watched him all the way down to the ring as Aecas stops his pacing and faces Johnson squarely, his fingers twitching as he impatiently waits to get started. Eddy Long steps into the center checking the position of both men. Satisfied that nothing will start until he says so Long turns towards the Time Keeper and signals him to start the match. DING! DING! DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The two men lunge at one another as the bell tolls, slamming together straight into a collar and elbow tie up, both men strain against one another but Aecas’ greater strength quickly begins to tell in the uneven contest. The giant breaks the tie up quickly wrapping one huge arm around the head of Johnson and drawing him in close with a Side Headlock. JJ reacts quickly, smashing a series of hard punches into Aecas’ gut before pushing his opponent back into the ropes and using all his strength shoots him off across the ring. Aecas hits the ropes hard, and puts the extra momentum into his favour as he charges back full tilt across the ring. JJ ducks under a huge early Decapitator attempt by Aecas, whipping around to face the big man as he rebounds from the ropes a second time. The Black Angel comes off of the ropes and gets knocked straight down as Johnson counters with a lightning fast Spinning Back Kick. Aecas is quick to get back to his feet, but JJ is faster and light years ahead of him, pouncing on his opponent from behind and latching his arms around the giants middle in a solid waistlock. Aecas is quick to counter this latest threat however, snapping a pair of elbow’s back into JJ’s face to loosen the hold before switching into a waistlock of his own. Aecas quickly switches from a waist lock into a Full Nelson, but Johnson is simply two quick, simply letting gravity take a hold of him to slip out of the Black Angel’s grasp, dropping down onto his ass and then rolling backwards through the giants legs and back up to his feet, locking eyes with Aecas as the big man quickly turns around. There’s a brief stare down between the two men, before the Black Angel starts to pace the ring again as the fans begin to warm up to the match. “A short burst of action that didn’t produce any decisive results for either man.” “They’re just feeling each other out Mak, but JJ would be wise not to try and go toe to toe with Aecas, he may be tough but Aecas is just too strong for him. Then again we’ve seen what he can do with both strikes and submissions, all Aecas has to do is make one mistake and it’ll be over.” Aecas stops pacing after a moment and the two men square off for a second time, this time however JJ ducks under Aecas’ questing arms and slips behind his giant opponent once again latching on a waistlock. Aecas once again jams an elbow backwards into the head of the champion, a second hard elbow follows loosening the grip just enough for the Black Angel to spin around and try for another Lariat, but JJ ducks yet again. Both men spin around to face the other, Johnson lashing out with a booted foot, kicking Aecas squarely in the gut. The kick has the desired effect as it doubles Aecas over leaving him wide open for Johnson, the champion doesn’t waste the opportunity, stepping in close and wrapping his right arm around the head of his massive opponent. A split second before JJ can properly apply the Front Facelock two massive hands latch onto his legs and Aecas straightens up quickly, easily lifting the struggling champion into the air and onto his right shoulder. JJ struggles for a brief moment before Aecas yanks down hard on his legs, catapulting the smaller man backwards and slamming him backfirst into the canvas with a huge Spinebuster! The fans cheer as Aecas blocks the Facelock attempt but the cheers quickly die away as the Johnny rolls to one side and quickly stands back up glaring at Aecas as one hand presses against his back lightly, testing it as he locks eyes with his opponent once more. “Big Spinebuster by Aecas, a nice counter to the Facelock but JJ Johnson isn’t even fazed!” “He’s got a lot to prove in this match Mak, he fought tooth and nail to get that title, and he’s going to have keep fighting hard to keep it. Aecas had better not take him lightly or he’ll find himself in a world of hurt.” Aecas eyes his opponent for a moment as JJ pops up from the Spinebuster, the giant gives a slight shrug and simply smashes his huge right forearm into the face of his opponent, sending the champion reeling back a pace. The Black Angel slams another forearm into the head of the champion following it up with a swift Kesa-Giri chop to the neck that rocks his opponent back once again, slowly driving JJ towards the corner. Finally the champion gathers his wits, ducking under another chop he slips behind the Black Angel yet again slamming a hard elbow into the giant’s kidneys. Aecas arches his back as another sharp blow hammers into the kidney area, driving the giant into the turnbuckles. Aecas twists in the corner trying for yet another reverse elbow but the champion ducks out of the way letting Aecas turn himself around in the corner before smashing a solid kick into the belly of the champion. “This has turned into more of a brawl than a wrestling match so far King!” “JJ has to keep Aecas on his toes. He needs to keep working him over any way he can but he has to keep the pressure on!” Aecas doubles up in the corner as JJ hops back a pace, waiting for his huge opponent to raise his head before he leaps forwards and sends his right foot crashing into the chin of the Black Angel with a devastating Superkick. “What a kick! I think I just saw a tooth fly out!” Mak cries out as Aecas staggers out of the corner, one hand clutching his face leaving JJ to pick his spots, the champion quickly steps in close to the Black Angel and delivering a sharp Martial Art’s kick against Aecas’ left knee, making the big man stumble. JJ presses the advantage, kicking at Aecas’ knee and his thigh forcing the big man to try and cover up as J3 picks at his left leg. After a hard kick to the kneecap that has Aecas clutching at his knee the champ hits the ropes and tries to Lariat the big man himself, his arm impacts against Aecas with a hard crack, rocking the giant back a pace but otherwise doing nothing. Aecas looks at J3 for a moment before the champ runs off the ropes and tries an even harder Lariat meeting with the same result, though its impact does draw a noticeable wince, Aecas straightens up slowly as JJ runs to the ropes yet again. The Black Angel tries for a Big Boot but the champion is too quick and simply rolls underneath it, leaping back to his feet and bouncing off the ropes on the other side before dropkicking Aecas in the knee as he turns around. The giant’s knee finally gives way underneath him dropping him down to one leg; JJ takes advantage of this with another quick dropkick right into Aecas’ face! The fans letting out a loud cheer Johnson as he finally manages to get his opponent down. “Looks like JJ is taking your advice King! Using his speed to his advantage and by god is he ever hitting hard! Going toe to toe with Aecas isn’t usually a good idea, but he’s never been against anyone like JJ before!” “He can keep hitting him hard like that but he’s got to pull out some big moves or shark in on that leg if he wants to put Aecas away.” Almost as if he can hear the Suicide King’s words Johnson uncharacteristically rushes towards the ropes. Grabbing the top rope he jumps onto the second and springs off of the middle of the rope spinning around in mid air to land a hard leg drop right on Aecas’ neck! JJ quickly crawls over Aecas and grabs one of the huge legs lifting it as he tries to pin the giant. ONE!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!! … … KICKOUT! Aecas roughly throws JJ off of him before Eddy Long can count to three; he starts to get up, looking for his opponent, unaware that the champion has quickly scaled the turnbuckle behind him. Waiting for Aecas to turn around J3 launches himself from the top planting both his boots in Aecas’ face with a sniper perfect Missile Dropkick sending the big man reeling again but not putting him down. Johnson is quickly back to his feet again, rushing at Aecas and doubling him over again with a vicious buzzsaw like kick to the gut. The champion takes a step back before simply slamming his foot into Aecas’ face jerking the big man back upright before a second Superkick sends Aecas staggering back to collapse into a corner. “Well Aecas is going to be an orthodontists dream after this match.” King says with a gleeful smirk. “Looks like it, and how about JJ getting aerial? We don’t see that out of him often but he’s pulling out all the stops.” With his opponent temporarily stunned J3 quickly moves up and scales the turnbuckle Aecas slumped against, climbing up behind the Black Angel as the fans make their opinions known, some cheering Johnson and others booing him harshly as he dominates his giant opponent. Before Aecas can react, the champion wraps an arm around his head and jumps forwards off of the corner, using the extra height to plant Aecas’ face squarely into the canvas with a huge Bulldog! JJ is on top of Aecas before the big man can get up, he grabs the giant’s left foot jerking the leg up with all his strength and smashing the knee into the canvas causing further damage to the appendage. Not content with just a single impact, JJ lifts the leg up again, this time planting his foot on the back of Aecas’ knee and driving it hard into the canvas. The Black Angel grimaces, and then lets out a sharp cry as Johnson simply slams his knee down hard on the joint to further the damage. Johnson grips Aecas by the ankle a third time but the challenger manages to raise his other leg and kick JJ hard in the stomach. The champion looses his grip and Aecas stubbornly starts to get back up to his knees, trying to keep Johnson’s deadly hands away from his damaged leg only to be met with a barrage of thunderous elbows from JJ. Now that Aecas is more his size it gives the champion ample opportunity to get off some more hard strikes, and he doesn’t disappoint. The fans start to rally behind the champion as he hits Aecas with a flurry of elbows, kicks and chops. “JJ Johnson showing no fear of his large opponent whatsoever!” “You’re damn right he is Mak. But he might want to stop trying to knock out what few brains remain in that thick skull and keep working on that left leg. If you can destroy the vertical base of a near seven footer then you’re definitely achieving something.” “And look at those elbows! He’s laying into Aecas with all his strength!” “Psycho #3 had better do something soon or this could be over quickly. “Psycho #3? Who are the other two?” Mak asks quizzically. “Janus you idiot, and as I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted JJ is relying on his speed and the sheer impact of his strikes and Aecas needs now more than ever to slow the pace of this match down, and use his strength and weight to his advantage.” “And JJ has yes to go for a submission in this match yet King. Despite working over the leg.” “Submissions slow down the pace Mak, and talented in that world as he is I’m not sure that’s what Johnson wants to do. Not yet anyway.” Aecas doggedly gets back to his feet, trying to block the blows that continue to fly at him as he backs away into a corner, shaking his head slightly to try and clear his mind as J3 backs up, retreating to the far side of the ring and pausing for a brief moment before charging at Aecas as he sits in the corner. The Black Angel raises his head as Johnson hurtles in at him, leaping up and preparing to drive another savage elbow into the side of the challengers head. Desperate to do something, Aecas lurches out of the corner, one huge arm coming up to wrap around J3’s chest before the Black Angel throws himself forwards and drives Johnson into the canvas. “STO!” Mak cries out as the fans explode anew from the impact. “He took too long to go for that elbow.” The Suicide King says, shaking his head with disgust. Aecas turns back to face his opponent limping slightly from the damage that JJ has inflicted on his knee but the expression on the giant’s face is more of anger than pain as he grabs Johnson by the head and pulls him upright. The giant steps in behind his opponent locking the champion’s arms in the same Full Nelson he tried before, heaving backwards and dropping the smaller man right on the back his head with a hard Dragon Suplex, trying to lock in a bridge but his knee simply won’t comply and he crumples back to the mat as Long makes the count. ONE!!!!! … … … … TW-KICKOUT!!!!! Without a bridge it’s easy for JJ to escape the Dragon, but the champion is slow to get to his feet after having his bell rung with that hard Suplex. Aecas is no quicker to get back to a somewhat unsteady vertical base, but he has more than enough wits to reach out and grab Johnson by the head with his left hand before taking Johnson’s head off with a standing Lariat. “Decapitator!” Mak shrieks as Aecas slumps down to his knees and quickly pins Johnson with a lateral press, hooking a leg in tight as Long drops to the mat once more. ONE!!!!! … … … … TWO!!!!!! … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NO!!!!!!! The fans explode once more as JJ’s right shoulder shoots off of the canvas before Long’s hand can slap the mat for three, the champion not willing to give up yet as Aecas rolls off of his groggy opponent and onto his back, grabbing his left leg and working at it gingerly. “Aecas trying to get shake some feeling back into his leg.” “Well he’s doing it at the wrong time Mak, Johnson’s getting up!” J3 certainly is getting back to his feet, cradling his head from the two hard knocks it just absorbed, with Aecas concentrating on his leg its an easy matter for Johnson to put himself back in the driving seat as the champion flips over the Black Angel, grabbing the raised ankle and giving it a savage twist as he hits the mat back first.. “Rolling Knee Snap!” Mak cries out, as Aecas’ lack of foresight costs him dearly. JJ still has a hold of the Black Angels ankle and twists the leg harshly, putting more pressure on the joint and rolling Aecas onto his stomach. Seizing the moment, Johnson scissors his legs around the damaged limb, locking his hands and leaning back, pushing his hips off the ground and steadily applying pressure as he locks in the Cross Knee Breaker. “There it is Mak! Hiza-juji-gatame! I told you one mistake is all it takes! Break his knee Johnson! Snap it off!” The Suicide King howls with glee. The fans are on their feet as Johnson cranks on the pressure, Aecas’ usually blank face twisted in pain, teeth bared in a pained snarl as Long gets in his face, screaming at him whether he wants to give up or not. The Black Angel shakes his head violently, starting to make the long crawl to the ropes as Johnson continues to savage his knee. As tight as Johnson has the hold however, he can’t stop the big man using his greater strength to force himself towards the ropes, continuing to shake his head and roar “NO!” at Long before he finally grabs the rope. The fans explode into cheers again as Aecas manages to escape the hold. Clinging to the bottom rope like a lifeline as Johnson grudgingly breaks the hold at Long’s insistence. “So close. So close Mak.” The Suicide King mutters as Aecas takes advantage of the break to roll out of the ring, hobbling on one foot as he uses the ring apron for support. Seizing the imitative once more J3 quickly hits the ropes on the far side of the ring, charging back towards his opponent and ducking down to dive through the ropes with an Elbow Suicida! Unfortunately Aecas still has enough awareness left to see the champion coming, the Black Angel lurching up and slamming a forearm into JJ’s head as it clears the ropes. The champions head snaps to the side and a beautiful dive turns into an ugly crash as he gets caught up in the ropes and flops down to the floor, Aecas collapsing next to him having lost his balance with the strike. The fans are alive for both men as Eddy Long starts to count them out. Aecas pulls himself back up to his feet slowly, dragging a groggy JJ Johnson back to his feet with him, rocking the champion with a hard forearm before rolling him back into the ring, and sliding in after him. “Good presence of mind by Aecas. He can’t win the belt by count out.” “And he’s only got one leg Mak, no more headrops for him today.” King says with a smirk as Aecas uses the ropes to lift himself back up to his feet, grabbing JJ and muscling him slowly over to the nearest corner. The cheers of the fans get louder as the Black Angel slams another forearm into JJ’s head, the champion firing back with an elbow of his own before having his head snapped back by the sheer power of his challenger as a second forearm hits home. J3 valiantly fires another elbow into Aecas’ jaw but another return forearm scrambles his brains long enough to give Aecas the advantage. The challenger slams another brace of forearms into the head of the champion, one left, one right. Snapping JJ’s head from side to side, Kesa-Giri Chops light up J3’s throat as Aecas thunders the blade of his hand into the soft flesh of Johnson’s neck. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Spinning on his feet, and grabbing the ropes to keep himself from toppling over Aecas slams a Rolling Kesa-Giri chop into the side of JJ Johnson’s neck. The impact is sickening and the crowd echo in sympathy as J3 staggers out of the corner clutching desperately at his neck. The champion is wide open and Aecas turns again thundering a Decapitator into the back of Johnson’s head, champion and challenger toppling to the mat. “Backbrain Lariat! The Champion is down! The champion is down!” Mak squeals as Aecas summons up the last reserves of his endurance, draping himself over J3 and hooking both legs, pressing all his considerable weight down upon the still struggling champion to try and guarantee the pin. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … … … … … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! DING! DING! DING! The fans explode once again as “Death in Fire” roars through the speakers that festoon the ring area, Aecas rolling slowly off of his opponent and sitting up, hands pressing against his knee as Johnson rolls over his stomach, hands clutching at his neck and the back of his head as Funyon makes the announcement the crowd wants to hear. “Ladies and gentleman the winner of the match. And NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION! The Black Angel! AYEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAS!” “I don’t belive this Mak!” The Suicide King shouts over the ecstatic cries of the Taiwanese fans. “Don’r belive what King?” “This wasn’t a wrestling match. This was a fight plain and simple! Johnson’s title should never have been on the line! Aecas should never have even got a shot in the first place!” “King…” “He had a handful of tights Mak didn’t you see that!” King blusters, despite the fact that there was no illegal action of any sort. Mak simply rolls his eyes as Eddy long steps out of the ring and fetches the belt from the Time Keepers table. Sliding back into the ring as Aecas slowly gets back up to his feet favouring his left leg heavily and winces as he struggles to keep his balance. Long presses the title into his hands and he manages to smile, thrusting the belt high into the air with one hand as long raises the other as high as he can to the delight of the fans. “And a new champion has been crowned! Three shows back and Aecas has gold in his hands once again!” “It’s a travesty Mak!” “We need to go to commercial now folks.” Mak says, pointedly ignoring his partner “The Dark Angel had done it, he had taken the International title, now all he had to do was prove that he was worthy of it” Still photo of the Dark Angel with the International Title in his grasp Eight SWF International Champion: Aecas

I'm sorry but jobbing Joe to Rhino at this point would derail the Joe Express, there is no doubt they're pushing for Joe to become the huge World champion - hell if done right he'll be the guy to carry the federation forward. Build Rhino up more before any talks of Rhino going over Joe.

Ah and here you go

They stole the show on a PPV that the writer himself admitted wasn't that flashy and didn't have that many highlights? so they stole a ho-hum show. Maybe if they stole the show on a GOOD PPV I'd consider it.

this is one of my pet hates. especially having some in-ring experience. i like to work a bit snug so at least the other guy knows he`s been hit. if you`re clubbing someones back then chances are they`re facing the floor, so if you wind up big time and then pull the blow so you barely touch them, how are they to kow how to sell? In the TNA folder there is a hilarious clip of Scott Steiner ramming Christiaan's head into the canvas, except that Christian leaps forward and hits the canvas without Steiner actually touching him

[Deep booming ”NFL Films” Voiceover] SWF Lockdown Kremlin, Moscow, Russia: May 4th 2006 “It had been 51 days since Wildchild won the title. The international title had been successfully defended 3 times already when Wildchild took on a man as cold as the Russian Winter” “JJ Johnson had reached for the top before but never quite managed to win the big match, a loss against Wildchild would amplify his image of choking in a big match environment but a win would place him firmly in the top ranks of the federation #Flashback# The camera fades back into Lockdown with high-energy being a fitting adjective to describe the crowd; it’s pandemonium at the Kremlin, a situation usually reserved for when they have to make an important decision and the direct line to the White House doesn’t work. Or maybe it’s pandemonium when it does work. Political comments aside, the atmosphere is indeed pulsing with mass amounts of energy, the camera swooping over the roaring crowd that has gathered in one of the grander ballrooms and picking up signs such as “J3 IS MY PREFERRED BRAND OF SPOT REMOVER,” “LET ME HAVE YOUR WILDCHILDREN,” and “IN SOVIET RUSSIA, ELBOW GETS THE FUCK WILDCHILDED OUT OF HIM!” before coming to a rest at the announce table, occupied by none other than Mak Francis and the Suicide King! “Zdravstvuite!” says the Franchise with a grin. “Welcome back to SWF Lockdown! I am the Franchise, Mak Francis, joined as always by the Suicide King, and what an interesting match-up we have for you tonight!” “That we do, Mak,” agrees King, although with a bit of a scowl. “Shame you had to ruin my mood with your Commie-talk.” “Whatever,” sighs the Franchise, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, for those of you just tuning in, what we have next is JJ Johnson vs. Wildchild, for Wildchild’s International Championship. These two have never met in any sort of competition, barring the Cold Front Classic battle royal in November, and even then they didn’t interact in the slightest; a clash of styles like this is sure to produce a match for the ag-“ I do that rather well…don’t you think? Match for the ages or not, it’s obvious to see, considering the intro to “Crown of Horns” is now blasting throughout the hastily set-up loudspeakers within the Kremlin, that at least one of the competitors doesn’t want to wait. The smoke that accompanies this music barely has time to billow up across the entranceway before Johnson barrels through it, tag belt over his shoulder as he makes a quicker pace to the usual ring than usual. “As I was saying, this is sure to produce a match for the ages,” notes Mak, “and I’m not sure what JJ Johnson’s hurry is.” “Well, obviously he wants to get in the ring, wipe circus-boy out as fast as possible, and leave and enjoy some fine Russian women,” says King plainly, as if this were an obvious solution. “If he’s looking for a fine Russian woman,” notes Mak, “he might want to walk a little faster, and get a little more time to search. He’s going to need as much time as he can get.” “Oh, please,” scoffs King. “Like if a Russian woman came up to you, you wouldn’t bend that shit over and load it up like a shotgun.” “…what?!” asks an incredulous Franchise. “Can you even say that on television?” “Like a SHOTGUN,” stresses the Heartbreaker as Johnson jogs up the steps before swinging his leg between the ropes and jogging over to the second rope, where he hops up before throwing his arms wide, glaring out over the Russians that would be mobbing the ring if not for the somewhat impromptu guardrail; in fact, it’s not even a rail. It’s roadblocks, the Russian government obviously strapped for time to put an actual rail within the most glorious ballroom in the President’s house. “YOU KEEP BUMPIN’ ME AGAINST THE WALL!” “YYEAAAAAHH!!” The Kremlin EXPLODES – fortunately for the government, not literally – as the opening tones of Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” come bumping out of the speakers, followed closely by Melissa Fasaki, and closer still, the Wildchild himself! “AND I KNOW I LET YOU SLIDE BEFORE! BUT UNTIL YOU SEEN ME! TRUST ME! “YOU AIN’T SEEN BOUNCIN’ BACK!” As Johnson looks on, still hopping about like he just chugged four cans of Jolt, Wildchild calmly bounces down to the ring, his head bobbing slightly to the music as Melissa Fasaki slows her pace to fall behind him, smiling at the various Russians that are now mobbing the guardrails – with the term used very loosely – to get at the popular International Champion. “And Wildchild has to know, here, that while he has the experience advantage by a very large margin,” begins Mak Francis, “he has had experience advantages before, in feuds with Scott Pretzler and Jay Hawke. Jay, the slower of the two, never managed to defeat him. Pretzler, a bit more fast-paced, although not by much, took him to the test in Ladder, Submission, and Last Man Standing environments, and barely came out on top.” “What are you getting at?” asks the Heartbreaker, looking very bored. “What I’m getting at is that Johnson is far more explosive than either of those two,” finishes Mak flatly. “Johnson is stronger than Wildchild – Wildchild has faced this before, and triumphed – but Johnson is deceptively fast, and if the champion can’t keep that in his mind, then we’ll see a new champion tonight.” “Right,” says King, still sounding bored. “Boy, I’d like to bend Fasaki over and load her up like a shotgun.” “Stop saying that!” snaps Mak as King looks on with a leery look in his eye, Wildchild diving between the middle and bottom ropes and rolling to his feet. This is enough to get a cheer from the crowd, and Wildchild basks in his glory a little before grinning, removing his shin pads, and handing them to Melissa. That done, he sits back in his corner with that grin still on his face and his title still around his waist, and waits for Funyon to begin his announcement. In the opposite corner, JJ still can’t seem to be still. “Zdravstvuite!” booms Funyon. “Commie-talk!” gasps King again, a look of loathing on his face. “Hush!” hisses Mak. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the International Championship!” continues the ring announcer, eliciting another cheer from the audience. “Introducing first, to my right, the challenger. In the red trunks with the white trim, he stands six feet, one inch tall, and weighs in tonight at 223 pounds! From Windsor, Ontario, Canada…J! J! JOHNSON!” Johnson throws his fist up in MMA fashion as the fans get a tad negative, the Canadian completely ignoring them as he nearly spasms, leering across the ring in his newfound hyper fashion at the champion; more specifically, at the belt around his waist. “And his opponent!” begins Funyon again, and that’s all it takes to get the fans roaring again in their support for the Bahama Bomber. “In the black trunks, with the aquamarine and yellow stripes, he stands five feet, eleven inches tall, and weighs in at 214 pounds! From Morgan’s Bluff in Andros, in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! He is YOUR SWF International Champion…the WIIIIIIIIILD-CHIIIIIIILDD!!!” “YYEEEEEAAAAHH!!” DING DING DING! “Bell’s gone,” notes Mak, “and we’re underway!” The two men waste no time in bounding to the center of the ring, Johnson still twitching with previously unseen energy, looking Wildchild straight in the eyes the entire time. The Bahama Bomber watches him carefully, but decides that it’s safe – for now – and the two lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, jockeying for position! “And this is an interesting tie-up,” says Mak. “No, it’s not,” sighs King. “It’s a collar-and-elbow tie-up. It’s not interesting.” “It IS interesting,” insists the Franchise, “because you’d think Johnson would have a definite advantage due to his size, and his strength. Not the case, though, because while Johnson is bigger and stronger, Wildchild, being shorter, has leverage on his side, and you know those leg muscles of his are insanely powerful. If WC can get his weight low enough, he could take Johnson down with the greatest of ease.” It looks to be that way, as the Human Hurricane gets lower and lower, pushing with his legs the entire time against the stronger Canadian…who smoothly transitions behind the Caribbean Cruiser with a hammerlock, and goes near limp, his formerly excited face now completely flat, almost as if bored. The only real movement he’s making is holding the hammerlock, which Wildchild struggles against…and Johnson grins, and the fans catch on rather quickly. “BOOOOOO!!” “Brilliant!” says the Heartbreaker, completely ignoring the jeers of the fans and officials packing the Kremlin. “Johnson comes out excited. Walks to the ring quickly. Can’t stop jumping around, moving somehow. Why? To lure Clown-Boy into a false sense of security, and then snap on this hammerlock out of nowhere and control the match at his pace from the beginning. Now JJ has every advantage.” Wildchild slaps at his shoulder, attempting to numb it to the pain shooting through it…but then he abandons his plan, and smoothly ducks backwards and under the arm of the Canadian before cinching on a hammerlock of his own! “Or does he?” notes Mak with a grin on his face as the Canadian goes from grinning to grimacing, and he, too, slaps at his shoulder, lowering his center of gravity as well in an attempt to lower his center of pain. “Seems he got a tad too cocky, and now WILDCHILD holds every advantage!” But this isn’t the case; with little hesitation, Johnson abandons his “ow, this hurts” act and reaches back, seizing a handful of the Bahama Bomber’s braids before leaping high, coming down on his knees and flipping the Caribbean Cruiser with a snapmare…before shooting in and latching on a Buffalo Sleeper hold! “BOOOO!!” “Buffalo Sleeper!” cheers King. “One of Johnson’s most punishing holds, the match might very well be over right now! See, Wildchild can hardly wrestle; he does what he does with those silly flips. You can’t flip if you don’t have oxygen, Mak, and in all my years at the announce table, few things deprive you of oxygen faster than that hold!” And indeed, the Wildchild looks to be turning purple already, precious O2 being blocked from his lungs by the burly arm wrapped tight around his throat. However, he still has plenty of oxygen left; enough, at least, to reach out with one leg and drape that foot over the bottom rope, prompting referee Blaine Kalem to call for a rope break! Johnson immediately dances back to the center of the ring, waiting for the Bahama Bomber to get to his feet. Wildchild does so, and Johnson immediately offers his hand out, looking for a knuckle lock. Knowing that this is the realm of the quick, the Human Hurricane is eager to take the hold, and he locks one hand with the Canadian before going for the other…as Johnson, as swiftly and elegantly as a wrestling ballerina, spins under the arm, pinning it back with a top wristlock before sweeping the Andros Aeronaut’s legs out from under him and dropping down, wrapping his arm around his throat for a second Buffalo Sleeper! “BOOOO!!” “Second Buffalo Sleeper!” grins the Heartbreaker as Wildchild finds himself in an uncomfortable position for the second time in what is practically seconds. “Johnson can lock that hold on from anywhere, which is a frightening thought when you consider the potency of the hold!” “And this is what I was talking about,” says Francis. “If I know Wildchild, and I’d like to think I know him pretty well, he wasn’t apprehensive at all about that hold. Sure, Johnson got him from the collar-and-elbow, but he knows as well as everyone else does – including Johnson, but I’m getting to that – that the knuckle lock has always been the medium with which cruiserweight artisans work their finest. Johnson knew this, lulled WC in, and then used that explosiveness I talked about to get a dangerous hold locked on almost instantly. Smart strategy from Johnson, and I hope Wildchild catches on soon, or this match will be shorter than anyone expected.” However, this Buffalo Sleeper is almost as ineffectual as the last one; the ropes are near still, and with a little stretching – an easy task for someone as limber as one Dominic LeCroix – the Bahama Bomber is able to free himself from the choke once more. Again, Johnson smoothly slides back to the center of the ring, and Wildchild takes a moment getting up as he bangs his fist on the mat, Melissa Fasaki looking on worried. “What are you doing, Johnson?” asks the Heartbreaker, a tad incredulous. “Stop letting him up!” “No, King, see, that’s strategy in itself,” corrects the Franchise. “It may be good sportsmanship – and I know how you are about sportsmanship – but it’s also an insult. Wildchild’s too proud to be simply let out of a hold, especially by someone with the veracity of Johnson; Johnson is essentially saying ‘You’re not good enough for me to bother with getting you back to your feet’. It might come back to bite Johnson, but if he can make Wildchild angry enough, the Bahama Bomber’s going to make mistakes, and Johnson has made a career out of capitalizing on mistakes.” Johnson, seeing that the Human Hurricane has reached his feet, shoots in for a grapple, but Wildchild is no longer having any of that, and he plants a boot firmly in the Canadian’s gut…that Johnson recovers swiftly from, planting the Wildchild with a double-leg takedown! Johnson attempts to capitalize, shooting in, but WC is quick to wrap his legs around the torso of the Canadian, forming an ironic MMA guard that is sufficient for keeping the Ultimate Fighter at bay. What it is not sufficient for, however, is keeping Johnson from raining blows on him, and Johnson proceeds to rise to his feet – as best he can with Wildchild weighing him down – before lashing out with a series of elbows, pounding the Bahama Bomber into dust to polite applause from the crowd! “I’m not sure why the fans are applauding,” sighs King. “It’s their ‘homeboy’ that’s getting pummeled mercilessly.” “Two reasons, King,” begins Mak, a veritable wrestling professor. “One, Russia is very big on mixed martial arts; elbows out of the guard is difficult to do, and this applause is out of respect. Two, Russia is home to perhaps the most unstoppable man in MMA in Fedor Emilianenko, and again, those guarded elbows are one of Fedor’s signature moves. The Russians see this as a shout-out to their big man in the Ultimate Fighting world, even if that’s absolutely not the ca-HOLY SHIT!” That swearing on tape-delay television is well justified, as WC, deciding that no, being elbowed in the face incessantly is NOT fun, catches one of the blows and, with a quick moment to think up something and to twist his arms into that position, locks on what is essentially a front cobra clutch! Johnson tugs, and the grip comes loose a little, and so the Bahama Bomber abandons his now-moot guard to wrap those legs around Johnson’s neck, pinning him quite well with a cobra clutch/triangle choke combo, the Canadian in dire straits! “YYEEAAAHH!” “Is that?” begins King. “It is!” answers Mak. “Aecas’ Wings of Fire! The Black Angel returned earlier tonight, although I doubt that’s what WC had in mind. Regardless, making stuff up has landed Johnson in a very effective choke, ironic considering the Canadian’s strategy thus far.” Fortunately for Johnson, he has two things going for him. One, Wildchild is very, very bad at this hold, and so his breathing is not nearly as constricted as if it were applied by everyone’s favorite Shrewsbury native. Two, he’s on his feet; Johnson has been placed in triangle chokes before, and his response has always been the same: lift with his knees, and slam the choker to free himself. He’s done it with Zyon, he’s done it with KOJI, he’s done it with Spike, and…yep, there he goes, doing it with Wildchild.” Indeed he is, although it’s a lot tougher for the Ontario native with only one arm. Still, with strain, he hoists the Bahama Bomber up, up, and up more, into the powerbomb position…but before Wildchild can be broken in half by the ensuing impact, the champion abandons his hold and hops over the Canadian’s head before sprinting off the opposite ropes, bouncing back, and nailing a turning Johnson flat in the chest with a dropsault! “YYYEAAAAAHH!!” Johnson goes crashing hard to his back as, with a picture-perfect backflip, Wildchild lands on his feet and immediately charges in, taking advantage of a stunned Canadian by taking a leg and spinning around it, looking for his submission finisher! “Wildchild going for his figure-four leglock!” shouts Francis. “He beat Johnny Dangerous with this at Ramadomination, and it’s certainly one of the more effective holds in his arsenal!” “Please,” scoffs the Gambling Man. “It’s one of the more effective holds because it’s one of maybe two holds he uses, and besides, it’s not going to be of any effect this early in the match.” This proves accurate, as once the Human Hurricane has his back to the Ultimate Fighter, Johnson wastes no time in planting his foot on the rear of the Wildchild and shoving, sending him stumbling into the ropes. As is his instinct (and his entrance music), the International Champion bounces back towards the prone Johnson…who, with a flex of his abdominal muscles, kips up and becomes a standing Johnson…and then a spinning Johnson… *CA-RACK!!* …and the International Champion becomes a dazed International Champion as Johnson shatters his jaw with a ferocious rolling elbow! Wildchild stumbles back into the ropes, but this time, he doesn’t bounce back; Johnson isn’t letting him wait around this time, though, and he immediately takes a firm hold of the Caribbean Cruiser’s braids before tugging him into a standing headscissors, taking a firm hold of his waist, and flipping him up into the air as a worried Melissa Fasaki looks on… …and has her fears assuaged, as Wildchild once again avoids powerbomb death by hopping over the head of the Canadian! “YYEAAAAHH!” “DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE!” Johnson whirls towards the pesky champion, looking to fire another elbow… *CRACK!* …and he pays for his momentum as he has just enough time to see the Wildchild leap high before his vision is blocked by the boot of the Caribbean Cruiser via gamengiri! “YYEAAAAHH!!” Johnson stumbles, and nearly falls, and Wildchild pops him with a forearm shot before sending him into the far corner, following him in as he no doubt looks for his Blue Crush… …but a Blue Crush is not to be, as Johnson leaps and plants a foot on each of the upper two turnbuckles before flipping backwards, taking himself quite acrobatically over the SWF’s greatest acrobat, who goes charging back-first into the turnbuckle. Taking advantage, Johnson rushes in and lashes out with a Yakuza Kick… …but the Human Hurricane is not as dazed as the Canadian may have thought, and he leaps up to the middle rope before flipping forward over Johnson! Sternum and steel collide, much to the jubilation of the crowd, and Wildchild spins one finger in the air in a 360 to call for the Blue Crush before charging in, leaping , spinning… …and Johnson drops to his hands and knees before rolling sideways, taking him clean under the massive vertical leap of the International Champion! Wildchild narrowly avoids hitting the buckles, planting his arms out to stop his descent into the poorly-padded steel, but he’s powerless to stop the brutal elbow that catches him right in the back of the head! *CRACK!* The focus fades just a little from the Bahama Bomber’s eyes, but he snaps back to attention quickly…unfortunately for him, it’s not quickly enough to stop Johnson from ducking his head under his arm and lifting backwards… *CRUNCH!* …before dropping him right on his neck with a backdrop driver! “BACKDROPDRIVEEEEEERRR!!” bellows the Heartbreaker as the International Champion is bent in half, and slumps quite uselessly over onto his stomach, where Johnson is quick to roll him onto his back and hook his leg for a cover! ONE! TWO! But even despite the freakishly high angle at which the Caribbean Cruiser landed, it is too early in the match for a move to put the Wildchild down, and he kicks out with force as to sit right up…and Johnson slips around him before pinioning an arm and locking on a Buffalo Sleeper! “BOOOOO!!” “And AGAIN Johnson goes to the Buffalo Sleeper!” says Mak, almost amazed. “I mean, it’s an effective hold and everything, but while he’s successfully locked it on twice, maybe three times, this means it has also failed that amount of times. Every time he’s locked it on, he’s been too close to the ropes.” This doesn’t look to change; Wildchild has to slump in the hold – risking increasing the pressure – and stretch further than most human beings could only hope to, but he can just get a toe over it. Johnson tugs him away, but Blaine Kalem hath spoken: a toe is sufficient, and Johnson relinquishes the hold again, and once again, he steps back, almost taking special care not to touch the Caribbean Cruiser. Another slap to the face, no doubt, and one Wildchild doesn’t take kindly to…as he springs to his feet before charging off the ropes with blinding speed, bouncing back, and leaping high… …to take Johnson off of his feet with a leg lariat! No reversals, no muss, no fuss; Johnson goes down, and at least for the moment, he stays there, a position solidified by the Bahama Bomber sprinting off the ropes once more before coming back, leaping HIGH…and coming crashing down on the Canadian with a back senton! *BANG!* “YYYEAAAAAHH!!” “DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE!” Johnson rolls to his stomach, clutching said body part with a good bit of enthusiasm considering the power of the blow. This proves unwise, as Wildchild immediately dashes up to the Canadian before taking an arm, wrapping it around his leg, and diving over with La Majistral! ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Off-guard pins on unweakened opponents are rarely effective, and Johnson proves this by kicking out quite forcibly; not to say he isn’t rattled, which he shows by immediately rolling outside to the Kremlin’s magnificently carpeted floors to recover. “Ha! I knew it!” laughs the Franchise, clapping his hands with a look of delight on his face. “Wildchild knew Johnson was holding back, so he held back! Sure, he took some lumps, but now he’s got Johnson judged, and he’s going all out like the Bahama Bomber we all know and love!” “That would imply people love him,” grumbles King, but there’s no denying the positive reaction for the Caribbean Cruiser…especially when he charges to the ropes before hurtling himself through and onto the Canadian with a suicide dive! But Johnson ducks! But Wildchild wasn’t going for a dive in the first place, instead lowering his head more and flipping over the ropes onto the apron before casting himself off with a flying reverse elbow that catches the back-to-standing Ultimate Fighter clean on the point of his jaw, sending his sweaty body tumbling to the ornate carpet! *CRACK!* Somewhere, the Kremlin’s custodian gets a shiver through his body. Johnson sits up to realize that the fans are laughing at him, prompting him to get to his feet with a back roll and charge the Bahama Bomber, looking for a lariat! That Wildchild grabs the wrist of before spinning under, doubling Johnson over with a kick to the gut, and draping his foot over the back of the Canadian’s neck… “Caribbean Cutter!” shouts Francis. “Not on the outside!” moans King. …and indeed, it’s not on the outside, as Johnson quickly stands, forcing a backflip out of the Wildchild before taking his wrung arm and tugging the Bahama Bomber close, then launching him back towards the ring with a railgun suplex! “Brilliant!” lauds King in direct contrast to what he said not moments ago, but the brilliance of Johnson’s suplex wears off some when the Wildchild simply flips through, landing on the apron and shooting his arms out to grab on to the second rope before he tumbles back to the floor. Knowing he has to act fast, it is the work of a moment for the former acrobat to shift his grip from the middle to the top rope, and tug himself up to the very top before flipping backwards and achieving chest-to-chest contact with the challenger, driving him back-first into the rail as the Bahaman goes tumbling into a now-exuberant crowd! “Sky-High Asai Moonsault!” cries the Franchise elatedly as Johnson stumbles off of the rail now clutching at his spine, Kalem’s ring-out count reaching four. The Canadian turns to face where the Caribbean Cruiser vanished into the crowd…just in time to watch Wildchild leap to the top of the rail before casting himself with a seated senton right into Johnson’s chest, taking the challenger stumbling back… *CLANG!* …and into the ring post, eliciting groans from even the most adamantly anti-Johnson in the crowd. Wildchild hops off of the Canadian unharmed as the Ultimate Fighter slumps to the ground, holding the back of his head, and that slumping time is about all he gets before the Bahama Bomber has hoisted him back to his feet and is rolling him into the ring before hopping to the apron, casting himself up into a one-handed handstand – the crowd oohs at this – before whipping his body around and down with a slingshot powerdrive elbow! *BANG!* “YYYEEEAAAAAHHH!!” “DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE!” The Kremlin is getting very, very loud as Wildchild covers Johnson, barely giving the Ultimate Fighter an opportunity to rub his aching chest as Kalem slides in to count! ONE! TWO! THRE-NO! NO! Johnson shoots his shoulder up before two, but this doesn’t stop Wildchild from continuing his comeback, tugging the Ultimate Fighter to his feet to try for another high-risk attack. *CRACK!* However, Johnson makes pulling him to his feet a high-risk attack in and of itself with an elbow smash! WC shakes it off and fires back with a forearm! That’s blocked, and Johnson returns fire with an elbow! *CRACK!* And another! *CRACK!* And with the champion sufficiently dazed as Fasaki looks on worriedly, Johnson whirls on the spot, looking for a second rolling elbow! *CA-RAACK!!* That doesn’t connect, Wildchild leaping sky-high upon the completion of Johnson’s spin and blasting him in the face with a second gamengiri! The force of the kick is enough to take Johnson off of his feet, and Wildchild acrobatically lands on his feet before lifting up a leg of the Canadian and trying for his figure-four once more! …And once again, Johnson plants a foot on his ass before shoving him quite forcefully away. There is a key difference between this time and last time, however. As last time, there wasn’t a steel pole in Wildchild’s way. *CLAAANG!!* “BOOOOOO!!” “Ha! That’s what JJ thinks of your momentum, Clown-Boy!” laughs King, completely ignoring in typical fashion the few minutes in which JJ got no offense in whatsoever, and that Wildchild is, in fact, a victim of poor positioning. None of this matters to Wildchild, who pulls himself out of the corner holding with a grimace his surgically-repaired left shoulder, or Johnson, who immediately hops to his feet before wrapping an arm around the wounded limb of Wildchild before bending him sideways and draping a leg over his, latching on…an abdominal stretch? “Bizarre,” says Mak. “I’ve never, ever seen Johnson do an abdominal stretch.” “But does it not make sense here, Mak?” asks the Heartbreaker. “You see, he’s not working the body of Wildchild with this, although that is an added motive; he’s working that arm, torquing that arm that’s already been torqued to hell and back by those Buffalo Sleepers, and setting him up for his bigger, badder abdominal stretch in the Frostbite III.” But before any real damage to either limb can be done, Johnson reaches under the Wildchild’s leg, hooking him before scooping him up into an inverted powerslam position, and the Bahama Bomber looks at the lights before Johnson sends him down with a Canadian Hammer! Onto the ropes! That causes the International Champion to slingshot off and over, Johnson securing a firm facelock before dropping straight back and nailing the champion with a slingshot snap brainbuster! *BANG!* “BOOOOOO!!” Wildchild’s momentum carries him up to a seated position, but this is only temporary before he collapses onto his back, Johnson drawing the near arm up into a top wristlock as he covers him for what could be the final pin of the match! ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Wildchild kicks out, although it takes some effort…and it only takes a moment for Johnson to take advantage of that wristlock he applied earlier by dragging the Caribbean Cruiser up to a seated position and latching on a Buffalo Sleeper! “AGAIN,” snaps Mak. “I mean, it was cute at first, but just stop! These aren’t going anywhere! Look, you set him up near the ropes again!” And the Franchise is correct; Wildchild is so close to the ropes he could walk up them. He could walk up them. A grin forms on the face of the Caribbean Cruiser. He could walk up them. And so he does, reaching a leg out and beginning his ascension by planting a foot on the bottom rope. A moment later, his other foot joins him, and Blaine Kalem, in typical Cutthroat fashion, is too astounded to demand a break. Johnson seems too astounded to do anything as the Bahama Bomber makes his way up to the middle rope, his abdominal muscles straining greatly with the effort of piloting 200+ pounds of muscle against gravity, against the Canadian holding him down. Almost as if helping him, even though he’s trying to maintain pressure, Johnson rises with him, up to one knee as he still continues to wrench on the hold. Wildchild is holding his breath to avoid dropping to the hold; if this fails, he’s finished, because he’s not going to be able to suck in more air. Top rope now, and Johnson is on his feet, bearing down with all of his might, crushing what little oxygen remains out of the Human Hurricane…but it’s too late. Wildchild has reached the top, and with a flex of his mighty leg muscles, he casts himself backwards, taking Johnson down to the mat with a modified Pinball!! “YYYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” “HE DID IT! HE WALKED THE ROPES AND GOT FREE!” cries Mak excitedly, as King buries his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking, obviously from tears. And then everyone that isn’t King, Johnson or Wildchild becomes painfully aware of the actual situation. Johnson maintained the hold. And now he’s got a body scissors on with it, meaning nowhere to run for the Wildchild. Melissa bangs her hands on the apron, looking intensely, trying to find an escape. Wildchild does as well, bridging up and attempting to pin Johnson… ONE! TWO! And then Johnson rolls onto his side, increases leg pressure, and all the enthusiasm whooshes out of Wildchild’s manager. All the remaining air whooshes out of Wildchild’s lungs. *TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!* And the title whooshes right off of Wildchild’s waist. “BOOOOOOOOO!” DING DING DING! “Crown of Horns” kicks into full blast death gear as Johnson immediately abandons the hold, rolling to his feet and waiting for Kalem to bring his newly won title his way, Wildchild rolling over to the ropes to take huge, gasping breaths. “Well, I don’t like the result,” sighs Francis. “But that was a hell of a contest. Both men gave their all, but while Wildchild caught onto Johnson’s plan, by then, the damage was a little too extensive for a true comeback to be made. It didn’t help that Johnson did his best pit-bull impersonation with those Buffalo Sleepers, and finished it off with that doushime Buffalo Sleeper. I’d love to see a rematch, but for now, Johnson was just too much for WC to overcome.” “Oh, cheer up,” scoffs the Heartbreaker as Kalem hands Johnson his belts, old and new, the Canadian promptly draping them over his shoulders before striding over to where Wildchild has made it up to one knee… …and offers out his hand. The Bahama Bomber eyes it suspiciously, but looks up at the face of the man offering it and sees a grin. Not his usual malicious grin, like when he applies Buffalo Sleepers to win championships. A real grin. Grinning back, Wildchild seizes a hold of the hand and gives it a firm pump before getting to his feet and raising Johnson’s hand, the crowd applauding the display of mutual sportsmanship. “Here is your winner, and the NEW International Champion…J! J! JOHNSON!” booms Funyon to less boos than before as Wildchild drops the arm of the former challenger, now champion, mouthing “I’ll get ya next time”, prompting a chuckle from the Canadian. Johnson leaves the ring, and the camera pans back to the announce table. “Again, that was a great match, and it was made all the better by that show of sportsmanship from the usually cold-hearted Johnson. Speaking of cold-hearted, we’ve got Landon Maddix vs. Amy Stephens, title for title, and we’ve got that next,” grins the Franchise. Don’t go away.” “Oh, sure,” says King flatly. “Ignore Melissa Fasaki and other Russian women, but bend sportsmanship over and load it up like a sho-“ “Johnson had done it, he had proven that he COULD bring it when the pressure was on and he was looking to be a defending champion” Still photo of J.J. Johnson in a fighting stance with the International title wrapped around his waist. Seventh SWF International Champion: J. J. Johnson

Yeah but hardly "Underrated" - They're one of the top 10 teams ever in my book talent wise

[Deep booming ”NFL Films” Voiceover] SWF From the Fire ’06 : Phoenix, AZ - March 14th 2006 “For over 270 days Jay Hawke carved out his place in history, for over 270 days he held on to the International Title by hook or by crook to become the longest reigning champion in SWF history” “He put the title on the line no less than eleven times in that time period but left 3 of those matches as the loser by DQ as he did everything he could to keep his grip on the title” “The Bahama Bomber had been chasing Jay Hawke for a while, fed up with the champion’s dishonest ways and underhanded tactics Wildchild finally got the champion where he wanted him, a corner he couldn't run away from.” “What followed was one of the most emotional battles for the International title ever seen” #Flashback# “King, Wildchild and Jay Hawke have been at each other’s throats for months now,” says Cyclone Comet, “and now the tension between them is about to reach its violent climax, as the International Title is put up for grabs… in one of the most brutal matches in all of professional wrestling, King: the steel cage!” “Well, this is exactly what Wildchild said that he wanted,” says the Suicide King. “A chance to face Jay Hawke for the International Title, where Jay can’t get himself disqualified… But, as we saw at the end of Lockdown, he may have spoken a little too soon!” “What do you mean by that, King?” “It’s simple, really,” explains King. “Over the past nine months, Jay Hawke has proven that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that title… And, now that there’s no disqualification, there’s no limit to what he’ll be willing to do to remain the International Champion!” “That may be true, King,” counters Comet, “but you have to admit that the cage isn’t exactly suited to Jay Hawke’s style.” “Comet, there’s only one style when it comes to retaining a championship,” replies King. “That’s ‘win at all costs’ style, and I can assure you that nobody in the SWF today is more suited to winning at all costs than the Dean of Professional Wrestling himself!” “Indeed,” amends Comet. “I stand corrected.” “Now, having said that, I will agree that Jay Hawke has expressed his distaste to me at having to be in this match,” concedes King. “And, from his point of view, I can’t say that I blame him… It’s demeaning to him to have to defend his championship inside a cage; that’s not wrestling!” “Well, King, the frustration of you and Jay Hawke notwithstanding, I want to personally commend Joseph Peters for ordering this match,” says Comet. “After everything that has transpired between these two young men, it will be refreshing to see a title match end conclusively!” “Conclusively?” spits King in disgust. “It’s a setup, is what it is! It’s frustrating to me to see such a fine wrestler as Jay Hawke have to defend his title against somebody like Wildchild, in a match that clearly disadvantages the Champion!” “You should have a little more faith in the Champion, King,” replies Comet. “I’m sure that, if Jay Hawke is meant to retain the title, he will have no difficulties overcoming the obstacles in his way!” “But, damn it, Comet, that’s the whole point!” cries an exasperated King. “The Champion shouldn’t be the one who has to overcome obstacles; that’s the challenger’s role. The deck should not be stacked against the champion!” “Well, I’m sure that we could continue to argue this issue for quite some time, King,” says Comet, “but our fans our waiting on the match to get underway… So, without further ado, let’s send it over to Funyon!” DING! DING! DING! The America West Arena grows silent at the toll of the timekeeper’s bell, as Funyon rises from his ringside seat and raises the microphone to his lips: “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following contest is for the INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!” YEAAAAAAAAAAH! The crowd cheers grow in intensity as Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” begins to play: “YOU KEEP BUMPIN’ ME AGAINST THE WALL! YEAH, I KNOW I LET YOU SLIDE BEFORE! BUT, UNTIL YOU SEEN ME… TRUST ME… YOU AIN’T SEEN BOUNCIN’ BACK!” “This contest is a steel cage match,” booms Funyon, “and can be won by pinfall, submission, or by escaping the cage! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki, here is the challenger: from Morgan’s Bluff, Andros, in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” With Melissa draped over his left arm, Wildchild raises his right arm to salute the crowd as the pair makes their way down the ramp: DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! “By Zeus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of determination in the eyes of the Wildchild, King!” Wildchild’s focus is momentarily diverted, however, by someone moving through the crowd on his left. WC cranes his neck to see if whether it was someone familiar to him, but the mystery person disappears back into the crowd before Wildchild can get a clear view. Nonplussed, the challenger continues on down to the ringside area, where he gives her a quick embrace and watches her head back up the ramp before stepping inside the cage. “Well, we’ve got the challenger inside the ring,” notes Comet, “and, as you all saw, Melissa Fasaki has been asked to leave ringside. There’ll be no question as to whether or not victory by either man will be conclusive tonight! And, we’ve also got two referees assigned to this match: junior official Red Herrington will be inside the cage, in case either man attempts to win by pinfall or submission, and senior official Matthew Kivell will be on the outside, to determine whose feet touch the ground first in the event of an escape attempt!” Wildchild shakes one of the walls of the cage and then begins walking in circles as his music fades out. After a split second of silence, the lights in the arena dim, and quiet is quickly disrupted by Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly.” BOOOOOOOOOO! “And, his opponent,” continues Funyon, as Jay steps out onto the stage, “from the Hall-of-Fame city of Cleveland, Ohio, and weighing in tonight at two hundred fifteen pounds…Here is the International Champion… the Dean of Professional Wrestling: JAAAAAY HAAAAAWKE!” A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he stands at the foot of the stage. He glares at the cage in distaste before proceeding down the ramp. “You can see the disgust on Jay Hawke’s face,” says King. “Like I told you, Comet, this style of match is beneath him; there’s something really wrong with this business when champions get penalized for being dominant, and challengers get rewarded for not being able to close the deal!” Wildchild leaps onto the top turnbuckle and begins to pull himself up to the top of the cage. He assumes a seated position on the lip of the cage and points down accusingly at Jay Hawke. The Champion catches his eye and holds his arms out defiantly, a grin spreading across his face as he points down to the International Title. “It’s mine, you little punk!” he shouts up at his challenger. “This belt’s not going anywhere!” “You can literally feel the tension, King!” says Comet. “This is going to be a tremendous match, I’m sure of it!” Jay begins to continue on towards the ring, but an unseen hand reaches out from the crowd and grabs at the back of his robe at the left shoulder, stopping him in his tracks! Hawke spins around furiously, but the mystery offender has already disappeared into the crowd, with several fans surrounding the ringside barricade pointing in the direction he took off in. “This is ridiculous!” spits King, as Hawke chastises the security personnel standing around the barricade. “What is Peters paying these people for? What good is security that won’t keep the wrestlers secure?” Indignant over the lackadaisical job performance of the security personnel, Jay eventually turns his attention back towards the cage, but not before ripping the head of security a new one. And, while the International Champion is nimble man, and quick of reflex, as he turns back towards the cage, he is only able to react quickly enough to form a single thought: “Oh shit.” WHAM! “By Zeus!” shrieks Comet. “Wildchild just dove from the top of the cage out to the arena floor, and turned Jay Hawke inside out with that hit!” HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “What a despicable cheap shot by Wildchild!” roars King. “He couldn’t wait until Jay got into the ring… He couldn’t even wait until Jay was facing him… No, he had to wait until his back was turned, and then attack him from behind! How low can you get?” Wildchild crawls over to Hawke and begins hammering punches into the top of his head. He pulls the Champion up to his feet and leads him by the back of the head to the barricade, where he rams Hawke face-first! He then leads him down to the ringside and bashes Jay’s face into the wall of the cage! “My word!” cries Comet. “Wildchild just sent Jay Hawke into the cage face-first!” “And the cheap shots continue,” growls King. “This match hasn’t even officially started!” “I do believe you’re right, King!” agrees Comet, as WC pulls Hawke away from the wall of the cage, only to knock him to the arena floor with a right cross. “We haven’t heard the bell; senior referee Matthew Kivell has not officially started this match… but we’ve got a bona fide donnybrook breaking out just outside the cage!” Wildchild pulls Jay back to his feet roughly and grabs him by the back of the head, leading him over towards the ring barricade, and then slamming him face-first into the hard rubber surface! “This is sickening!” spits King, as Wildchild leans Hawke up against the corner where two sections of the barricade intersect. “Wildchild is too much of a coward to try and face Jay Hawke in the ring, so he has to sneak attack him out on the floor… Look, Jay hasn’t even had a chance to take off his robe yet!” WC grabs Jay roughly underneath the arm and drops him on his tailbone onto the arena floor with a hiptoss. The Dean scrambles desperately on his hands and knees to get away from WC, frantically discarding his robe as he does so. Wildchild chases after him and pulls him to his feet, but Hawke finally manages to stage a counter attack, stunning him with a rake of the eyes. As Wildchild rubs his eyes, Jay jams a knee into his midsection, and then grabs him by the tights and leads him back by the corner of the barricade, slamming him headfirst into it! “There we go!” crows King. “Now let’s see what Wildchild can do, now that he’s not attacking the man from behind!” Jay pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to the nearby corner of the cage attempting to bash WC’s head into the post… but the Bahama Bomber blocks with both hands! Wildchild thrusts an elbow into Jay’s midsection, knocking him a step backwards, and then leaps into the air, whipping his leg through the air and blasting Hawke in the face with a Gamengiri that sends him stumbling back into the corner of the barricade! “Wildchild is on fire, King!” proclaims Comet. “He’s not going to let Jay Hawke find any purchase in this matchup!” WC turns back towards the ring and shinnies up the corner of the cage like he was climbing a palm tree back in Andros. Once he gets about halfway up, he springs backwards, flipping through the air and crashing into Jay with a moonsault press! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Oh my goodness!” screams Comet, as WC pulls Hawke to his feet. “Wildchild just did a moonsault from the middle of the cage that sent him and Jay Hawke into the crowd! And now, Jay Hawke is in no-man’s land!” “This is patently unfair!” protests King, as Wildchild knocks Jay further back into the crowd. “Any of those fans can get their hands on Jay Hawke right now; it’s about nineteen thousand to one! If security can’t keep these fans from putting their hands on Jay Hawke, they should all be fired on the spot! Kivell needs to get those two back to ringside, so that we can actually get this match started!” “This is utter bedlam!” agrees Comet. “If Matthew cannot gain some sort of control soon, this match may not even happen!” Wildchild leads Hawke back over towards the barricade, and then rams him stomach-first into the hard rubber surface before dumping him back onto the ringside area. Jay scampers away from Wildchild once again as he climbs back over the barricade. “Jay is going to have to do something to slow Wildchild down, and get this match back on track,” says King. “Back on track?” asks Comet, as Hawke crawls over towards the announce table. “I’m not aware that this match ever got on track, King; it hasn’t even officially started yet, as we see the International Champion trying to pull himself back up in front of our announce table…” Kivell steps into Wildchild’s path to dissuade him from continuing to attack Jay outside the ring, but WC pushes him aside. He pulls Jay off the table, and the Dean catches him off-guard with a sucker punch to the temple! Hawke immediately follows up by delivering a stiff European uppercut, and then grabbing him by the back of the head… WHACK! … And slamming Wildchild face-first against the announce table! Jay stands over the dazed challenger and begins hammering him across the back of the neck with clubbing forearm blows. “Look at Jay Hawke,” observes Comet. “The International Champion’s chest is covered in bruises from where Wildchild has repeatedly thrown his body at him! He’s got huge red welts on his back from where it impacted that barricade! He’s got a small trickle of blood running from his nose, from all the punishment that he’s taken! And yet, he’s finally starting to make his presence felt here in this match!” “And Wildchild is going to regret pushing Jay Hawke past his limits!” cheers King, as Jay rolls Wildchild onto the top of the announce table. “He wanted to make this a fight, well now he’s about to come face-to-face with the consequences of that decision!” Jay climbs up onto the announce table and then pulls WC to his feet, trapping him in a standing headscissors. “Uh-oh!” cries Comet, as Jay pumps his hands overhead. “Jay Hawke’s going for a piledriver… Clear out of here, King!” Hawke wraps both arms around Wildchild’s midsection and starts to lift him off the table as King and Comet move off to the side, but the Caribbean Cruiser kicks his legs frantically until Jay has to set him back down. Jay tries one more time without success to lift WC up for the piledriver, and then the Bahama Bomber straightens up his back, raising the International Champion up off the table, and dumping him onto the arena floor! “Wildchild just saved himself from a possible broken neck with that counter!” shouts Comet, as Jay staggers across the floor to lean against the barricade. “And Jay Hawke just sustained another punishing blow to… LOOK OUT!” WHAM! Comet and King are just barely able to move out of the way as Wildchild runs across the announce table, leaping off as he approaches the edge and blasts Jay Hawke in the chest with a running dropkick that sends him back over the barricade and into the crowd! The Human Hurricane pulls himself to his feet and unleashes a feral how as the crowd cheers him on: DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “What a dropkick!” exclaims Comet, as he and King settle tentatively back into their seats. “Wildchild just came off the announce table to hit Jay Hawke with a running missile dropkick! For the second time tonight, Jay Hawke has gone over the barricade… And for the THIRD time tonight, Wildchild appears to be climbing the wall of the cage! What’s he got in mind, King?” “Nobody ever knows what Wildchild is thinking,” replies King, as Jay struggles to get back to his feet amidst the crowd, “but it can’t be good news for Jay Hawke!” WC races across the fairly wide rim of the cage, leaping off as he approaches the corner and somersaulting through the air as he sails gracefully over the arena floor, past the barricade… CRASH! … AND CRASHES INTO HAWKE WITH THE ANDROS DIVE! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “Holy shooting stars!” screams Comet. “Andros Dive from the top of the cage! He just crashed into Jay Hawke with a running somersault senton from twenty feet in the air!” Wildchild screams out, clutching his tailbone in pain as Hawke remains motionless a few feet away. Dozens of fans surrounding the crash site clamor to either give Wildchild a congratulatory pat on the arm, or to jeer Jay Hawke unmercifully, until security makes their way into the crowd to create some space between the wrestlers and fans. “That was an utterly idiotic move!” roars King. “If he’d been even a half-second too early on that, he would have literally killed himself! I mean, look at him; even with Hawke taking the brunt of the impact, he still ended up landing on his tailbone… and the way he was bent over, he was a few inches away from bouncing off his head! How can anybody seriously consider a guy that reckless to be worthy of the International Title?” Hawke and Wildchild continue to lie motionless on the concrete, as security fights desperately to keep fans from getting too close. “My concern, King, is whether or not we’ll ever get this match officially started?” ponders Comet. “And what kind of condition will these two men be in when the match finally DOES get going?” Moments later, Wildchild finally rolls onto his knees and wearily pushes himself up to a standing position. He shuffles over to Jay and pulls him up to his feet, but the Dean rifles a clenched fist into this genitals! As WC doubles over in pain, Hawke springs into action, quickly trapping him in a standing headscissors and wrapping both arms around his waist, getting just enough lift to pull Wildchild off the ground before he can recover… BANG! … And bounces the top of Wildchild’s head off of the concrete floor with a piledriver! “He hit it!” praises King, as Jay lies back against the concrete, breathing raggedly. “He got that piledriver he was going for! He didn’t get it out here on the announce table, but he may have done one better by hitting it out there on the floor instead!” “Indeed,” agrees Comet. “Jay Hawke has turned the tables on Wildchild, and now has a golden opportunity to take control of this match!” After several seconds, Jay gets back to his feet, walking over to a young fan and snatching the officially-licensed Wildchild beach towel that his father just bought for him on the concourse. He walks away from the bawling tyke and rolls the towel up like a kerchief. He then stands behind Wildchild and slips it around his neck, choking him out with it! “Holy garrote, this is brutal!” cries Comet. “Jay Hawke just stole that towel from that poor young fan, and now he’s choking Wildchild out with it!” “Well, this is what Wildchild said he wanted,” mocks King. “He wanted a match where Jay Hawke couldn’t get himself disqualified, and now he’s paying the price for it!” Out of desperation, Wildchild turns his body in towards Hawke, wraps his arms around the Champion’s waist, and pops his hips as he falls backwards… WHAM! … Driving the back of Jay’s head into the concrete with a backdrop suplex!” “Tremendous maneuver by the Wildchild!” shrieks Comet. “A suplex to counter being choked out!” A nearby security person retrieves the blanket and returns it to the fan, as both challenger and Champion writhe on the floor in pain. DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “This has gone on long enough!” complains King. “Kivell needs to exercise some authority and get these two back in the ring, before Hawke ends up being seriously hurt!” Hawke and Wildchild begin exchanging punches as the work their way back to their feet. Several of the “off-duty” referees enter the crowd and try to steer Wildchild and Jay back towards the cage, but to no avail, as they keep progressively moving further and further away from the ringside area as they fight through the crowd. Finally, they reach the edge of the arena floor, which separates the ground-level seats from those higher up. The referees steer Wildchild and Hawke over to the tunnel leading out to the concourse, and then try to get between them, but the Dean merely takes advantage of Wildchild’s preoccupation and leaps over the officials separating them to nail WC in the side of the head with a sucker punch! “What a dastardly tactic by Jay Hawke!” cries Comet. “He waited until the referee’s had Wildchild’s attention diverted, and then nailed him with a cheap shot!” “What’s the matter, Comet?” mocks King. “You don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot? I don’t remember hearing you say anything when Wildchild was diving off the cage behind Jay’s back! Turnabout is fair play!” Jay walks over to a nearby cluster of fans and snatches his custom-made souvenir folding chair. He takes it back over to where Wildchild is getting back to his feet and raises it overhead to bash his skull in, but the Tropical Tumbler dives out of the way and springs to his feet as Hawke turns back around… WHAM! … Driving the chair into his nose with a shuffling sidekick! Blood sprays from Hawke’s face as he collapses to the ground, and Wildchild climbs up to the upper level. “Big time sidekick makes Jay Hawke regret putting that chair into play,” remarks Comet. “And what is Wildchild climbing up there for?” “I don’t know,” replies King, “but he’s done enough damage with his high flying for one day!” Wildchild steps out onto the platform above the tunnel leading outside, and then turns to look at the fans before leaping off the platform to crash down onto Jay Hawke with a moonsault press! CRASH! … But the wily International Champion has enough presence of mind to roll out of the way, causing Wildchild to crash into the concrete floor! “Holy crash and burn!” shrieks Comet. “Wildchild tried to put Jay Hawke’s lights out for good, but he missed the mark, and fell ten feet to the concrete!” “I love it!” exclaims King. “That’s what he gets for going to the well once too often. He couldn’t be happy with having the momentary advantage… NO! He had to go ahead and try to be fancy… and what did it get him? A Nestea Plunge onto a concrete floor, THAT’S what it got him!” Jay pulls Wildchild to his feet and hammers him in the back of the neck with clubbing forearms, but with security’s help, the “off-duty” referees manage to steer them over towards the entrance ramp. “My word, King,” exclaims Comet, as Hawke tosses Wildchild back over the barricade, “these two have beaten each other half-way around the arena!” “Yeah, but at least it’s finally starting to look like they might take it inside the cage, so that we can get this match underway, says King. Jay climbs onto the barricade and then leaps onto the ramp to crush Wildchild with a flying attack, but the Bahama Bomber lunges upwards desperately and jams a rising uppercut into the midsection of the descending Champion! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Punch to the midsection!” screams Comet, as WC collapses back to the floor, spent. “This match has been going back and forth for several minutes, King!” Both men slowly get back to their feet, and Jay tries to reassert himself with a right cross, but WC blocks with his left forearm, and then counters with a right elbow to the face! As Hawke staggers back, the challenger presses the attack, knocking him down with a headbutt! Wildchild pulls Jay back to his feet, only to hook his arm underneath the Champion’s and executes a hiptoss that sends Hawke tumbling down the ramp towards the ring. “Wildchild and Jay Hawke are slowly but surely making their way back towards the ring,” notes Comet. “We may get an actual match yet!” WC grabs Jay’s head and tries to bash it into the ring barricade, but the Dean blocks his attempt, and drives the challenger’s face into the barricade instead! As Wildchild staggers away, Jay lifts him up into a bearhug and races towards the ring, slamming his back against the wall of the cage! “Looks like Hawke’s trying to get a little payback!” crows King. “Wildchild was using the cage as a weapon earlier, and now Jay Hawke’s returning the favor!” Jay reasserts his grip and rushes back towards the ring, but the Caribbean Cruiser gets his feet up, bracing them against the wall of the cage and pushing off, rolling over Hawke’s shoulders and down his back. WC wraps both hands around Jay’s waist as he falls, pulling the Dean into a Sunset Flip, but instead of making a worthless pin attempt, the Human Hurricane immediately rolls back to his feet while maintaining control of Jay’s legs. The fans begin cheering immediately as they realize what he’s about to do: YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Oh my!” squeals Comet. “A possible slingshot coming up!” Sure enough, Wildchild locks his arms underneath Jay’s legs and falls backwards, launching Hawke through the air and sending him face-first into the wall of the cage! “More cheap tactics by the Caribbean Coward!” spits King, as Wildchild pulls Hawke to his feet and leads him over to the cage door. “But, at least we might be finally ready to officially start this match!” WC rolls Hawke into the ring, and the Champion scampers backwards across the ring, begging off the Bahama Bomber as he steps into the ring himself. Kivell closes the door to the cage whilst simultaneously signaling the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the official start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone!” shouts Comet. “And this match is officially underway!” “Finally!” Jay continues to stall for time as Wildchild crosses the ring, and then finally stuns him with a kick to the midsection! Hawke grabs Wildchild by the back of the head and rams it into the top turnbuckle. He then begins to skip across the ring, waving for Kivell to open the cage door as he tries to get out. “He’s making a break for it!” shouts King. “Jay Hawke’s heading for the exit!” Before he can reach the edge of the ring, however, WC tackles him from behind and drags him away from the door. Wildchild takes half a step back and then leaps into the air, crashing down onto Jay’s back with a senton splash! Wildchild easily beats Jay back to his feet and runs to the ropes, springing forward as he rebounds and blasting Hawke in the face with a basement dropkick! “He didn’t make it!” calls Comet. “Wildchild headed him off at the pass!” WC chews furiously at the gauze on his arm, until he gets an end loose. He then unravels a length of the gauze from around his arm and grasps it in both hands as he sneaks up behind Jay… and chokes him out with the gauze! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “He’s choking him!” roars King. “What a cowardly thing for Wildchild to do!” “Now wait just a minute, King,” counters Comet. “Didn’t you just tell me a few minutes ago that turnabout was fair play? Who choked whom first?” “Wildchild had that coming for all the cheap shots he was responsible for outside the ring!” replies King, as Jay’s face begins to turn purple. “Once the two of them got in the ring, they should have started out on a clean slate… But, you know what? It doesn’t surprise me to see Wildchild resort to such cheap tactics!” “And just what’s that supposed to mean?” “Wildchild knows that he couldn’t beat Hawke in a wrestling match,” replies King. “Hell, he probably figures that he couldn’t even beat him in a street fight, if he had to meet him face-to-face, so I’m not surprised to see him trying to attack from behind!” Red Herrington implores WC to release Jay from the choke, trying to appeal to his sense of mercy, since he can’t disqualify him. Finally, WC removes the gauze from Hawke’s throat and leads him back over to the corner, where he stands on the middle ropes and begins to administer a ten-count punch! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN! “Wildchild on a roll, King!” says Comet. “Jay Hawke is going to have to pull something out of his bag of tricks if he wants to continue to hold on to the title!” WC pulls Jay out of the corner, but the Dean stuns him with a Greco-Roman thumb to the eye, and then scoops him up off the canvas, dropping him onto his outstretched thigh with an inverted Atomic Drop! “Nice counter by the Champion!” praises King. “And good thinking to go to work on that injured tailbone!” “Yeah,” Comet says dryly, “nothing says good technical wrestling like a thumb to the eye!” Hawke pulls WC forward and traps him in a front facelock. He then lifts him overhead and drives him back down to the canvas with a textbook vertical suplex! “How’s that for technical wrestling?” mocks King, as Hawke floats over into a lateral press: ONE! TWO! TH— KICKOUT! “You have to give credit to the International Champion,” concedes Comet. “He’s sustained a lot of punishment here tonight, and yet he’s still had the wherewithal to take control of this match, and even get the first pin attempt!” Jay gets to his feet and hops into the air to deliver an elbowdrop, but the Tropical Tumbler rolls out of the way! WC beats Hawke to his feet and scoops him up for a slam, only for the Dean to shift his weight in midair and cause Wildchild to fall backwards! Jay holds him down for a pin… ONE! TWO! … But only gets two! Hawke moves his forearm over WC’s throat and presses down onto it; Herrington appeals to the Champion to try and get him to release the hold, while Wildchild flails about on the canvas, gasping for air. “Now this is more like it,” says King. “And now that Jay Hawke has been able to turn this into a wrestling match, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’s been able to take control!” “Even so,” replies Comet, “you can’t help but notice that he’s been far more aggressive tonight than I’ve ever seen him! Even though he’s trying to keep this match as a ground-based affair, he’s venturing outside of his usual strategy a little!” “Well, that’s to be expected,” says King. “These two have faced each other so many times that you HAVE to try something different. Jay Hawke may want to keep this a wrestling match, but he doesn’t want to make himself overly predictable, either!” Jay scrambles back to his feet and quickly hops back off the mat, delivering a kneedrop to Wildchild’s face. “And you’ve got to attribute that to Jay Hawke’s experience advantage as a wrestler,” adds Comet, as Wildchild rolls towards the edge of the ring. “He knows all about how to keep an opponent on the defensive!” Hawke walks over to Wildchild and drops a knee right across his throat! He gets back to his feet, only to do it again, this time holding the knee against his throat as Herrington pleads with him to relent. “Absolutely!” agrees King. “This is where the additional years of wrestling experience really serve Hawke well! He withstood the early assault from Wildchild, and by taking the brunt of that assault, he was able to slowly take Wildchild’s offense away from him; Wildchild is a guy who depends on using his body as a weapon, and Hawke just let him throw himself around until he wore himself out, and now he’s got this match well in hand!” “He’s definitely a great Champion, there’s no doubt about that!” concedes Comet, as Herrington finally persuades Hawke to get off of WC’s throat. “He wouldn’t be where he is today if he wasn’t an outstanding wrestler!” Jay leads Wildchild over to the corner and bashes his head into the top turnbuckle… And then, just to be a prick, rakes WC across the eyes! BOOOOOOOOOO! “Hawke going back to work on the head and neck area of Wildchild,” observes Comet, as Jay hammers WC in the back of the head with a forearm smash, “and I’m a little surprised that he hasn’t attempted to work the shoulders to set up that Wing Span!” “Well, sometimes you have to do certain things to create openings for other things,” explains King. “And, with as many times as Wildchild and Jay Hawke have met in the ring, Jay probably feels that Wildchild is too familiar with his usual setup for the Wing Span; he probably feels that Wildchild might be able to counter if he telegraphs his strategy… so, like any good wrestler, he softens up another part of Wildchild’s body first, making him weaker, and more susceptible to attack in other areas.” Hawke drops another knee across Wildchild’s throat, but quickly gets back to his feet and taunts the crowd, which responds with hearty booing. “Well, Hawke has his confidence back, there’s no question about that,” notes Comet. “You can tell by the look in his eyes that he feels he has Wildchild on the ropes… And it will be interesting to see how quickly Jay attempts to put the match away from here, because Wildchild may be ripe for the picking!” Jay pulls Wildchild into a front facelock and then twists sharply to his left, driving the challenger down to the mat with a winging neckbreaker! Hawke floats atop WC to apply a lateral press… ONE! TWO! TH— KICKOUT! “Unbelievable that Wildchild could kick out of that!” exclaims King. “I thought that Jay had him!” “It’s entirely possible that he would have won this match if he’d only hooked the leg, King!” “I have to agree,” concedes King. “That was a cardinal mistake for a veteran like Jay Hawke; I’m surprised that he didn’t hook that leg!” Jay gets back to his feet and quickly leaps into the air, dropping his outstretched leg across WC’s throat. He applies another lateral press: ONE! TWO! THR— Wildchild sneaks out the back door! Hawke pounds the mat in disgust as WC tries to crawl away from him. “That’s twice now!” squeals Comet. “Jay Hawke has had very poor execution on his pin attempts down the stretch in this match!” “Absolutely!” agrees King. “He had better not make the mistake of taking Wildchild too lightly; Hawke might be the better wrestler, but you don’t want to take a chance of letting your opponent get a lucky shot in!” The Dean rolls Wildchild onto his stomach and then begins to deliver a series of kneedrops to the challenger’s left shoulder! “Jay Hawke has controlled the action for several minutes, almost from the time they’ve entered the cage,” says Comet, as Hawke holds out WC’s left arm, and then kicks him in his unguarded left shoulder. “And King, I have to give you credit: Jay Hawke has started to go to work on that shoulder, just like you called it a couple of minutes ago!” “Well, when you’ve been feuding off and on with a guy for the better part of a year, like these two have, you have to be aware of the fact that the other guy knows what your tendencies are; you have to be able to adapt, or your opponent is going to be able to neutralize your offense! Now that he’s got Wildchild distracted by injuries to other parts of his body, Jay Hawke is free to work on that shoulder!” The Champion pulls Wildchild to his feet and traps him in a hammerlock, and then leads him over to the corner and rams him shoulder-first into the top turnbuckle! As WC staggers out of the corner, the Dean grabs him by the back of the head and leads him towards the edge of the ring… WHAM! … Slamming him face first into the wall of the cage! Wildchild grabs onto the top rope for support as he slumps to the canvas, and Jay Hawke raises his arms triumphantly, to the dissatisfaction of the fans. BOOOOOOOOOO! “This match has taken on a very methodical pace since Jay Hawke gained control,” notes Comet, as Hawke lifts WC onto his shoulder. “And now the Champion is going right back to that shoulder… Yes! Shoulderbreaker, and well executed!” ONE! TWO! THRE— NO! “He didn’t get him there,” says King, “but you can tell that he’s getting closer!” Jay heads over to Wildchild to pull him back to his feet, but the Bahama Bomber fires a closed fist into his midsection! The energy exerted from the blow knocks WC onto his posterior, but he gets back onto one knee and sends another fist into the Champion’s belly! And another! The crowd starts to get behind Wildchild as he punches his way back to his feet. LET’S GO, WILDCHILD, LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP* LET’S GO, WILDCHILD, LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP* LET’S GO, WILDCHILD, LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP* LET’S GO, WILDCHILD, LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP* “Unbelievable!” shouts Comet. “Look at Wildchild fire back! He’s made his way back to his feet, King!” Wildchild tries to go up high with a right cross, but the Dean blocks with his left forearm, and then sends Wildchild back down to the canvas with a headbutt! Hawke wipes some of the blood from his face, and then walks around Wildchild’s body towards his head and delivers another kneedrop to WC’s left shoulder! “Hawke has been able to stifle every attempt at a comeback since getting into the ring,” says King. “But look at this… I can’t believe it; Wildchild’s back on his knees!” WC crawls away from Jay Hawke, breathing heavily as he attempts to get back to his feet, but the Dean walks up behind him, grabs him by the back of the head and leads him towards the edge of the ring… WHAM! … Slamming him headfirst into the wall of the cage! WC staggers across the ring to a neutral corner leaning against the turnbuckles as he tries to recover. Jay walks over towards him and attempts to pull him out of the corner, but the Caribbean Cruiser spins around without warning, and kicks the Champion in the gut! “Wildchild still has some fight left in him,” says Comet, “but I don’t know if his body can continue to take this kind of punishment… And look at that, King: Wildchild appears to be bleeding! That last trip into the cage must have busted him open!” “I’m not sure,” says King. “I need to get a better angle on… Yes! Wildchild’s been busted open! It’s not that bad yet, though; he may not have even realized it!” Hawke recovers before Wildchild and grabs him by the back of the head, pulling him roughly out of the corner, and then leads him across the ring, tossing him face-first into the cage wall yet again! “Well, if he didn’t notice it before, he’s going to notice it now!” exclaims Comet, as Jay rakes Wildchild’s face across the steel mesh. “Jay Hawke has really opened up Wildchild’s face! Jay leads away from the edge of the ring and pops him in the face with a forearm shot, then quickly follows up with a headbutt that drops WC to his knees. He grabs the challenger by the back of the head and leads him over to the nearby corner to slam his head into the top turnbuckle, but the Bahama Bomber blocks by getting his foot up on the middle turnbuckle, and then rams Jay’s head into the buckle instead! WC’s eyes take on a feral appearance as he begins to batter the Champion with rapid-fire right hands, knocking him backwards towards the center of the ring! “Wildchild’s firing back, King,” shouts Comet. “And look at his eyes! I’ve never seen a look like that in Wildchild’s eyes before!” “I have,” says King woefully. “And it’s not good news for Jay Hawke!” WC grabs Hawke by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Dean still has the presence of mind to reverse. He tries to nail Wildchild with a back elbow as he bounces off the ropes, but the Human Hurricane ducks and sprint across the ring, exploding through the air as he rebounds a second time, and leveling Jay with a leg lariat! Wildchild pops up to his feet, tilting his blood-stained face to the rafters and unleashing a primal howl as the fans chant for him: DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “He’s snapped!” cries Comet. “Wildchild has snapped! He’s gone into a frenzy, King!” WC pulls Hawke brusquely to his feet and leads him by the back of the head towards the edge of the ring, slamming him face-first into the cage wall! He then races towards the opposing ropes as Jay staggers back towards the center of the ring… WHAM! … And knocks him to the canvas with a flying shoulder tackle to the ribs! “By Zeus!” exclaims Comet. “What a tremendous pouncing shoulderblock to the ribs by Wildchild!” WC cries out again before leading Hawke over to the corner and bashing his head repeatedly into the top turnbuckle! The fans count along with him: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN! Hawke staggers feebly away from the corner and collapses to the canvas. Wildchild follows up by running to the ropes and leaps into the air as he rebounds, crashing into the Champion’s head with a flying headbutt! WC applies a lateral press! ONE! TWO! THR— Jay Hawke kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls him to his feet, only to scoop him up and plant him back down on the canvas with a Scoop Slam. The challenger backs into the nearby corner and pulls himself onto the middle turnbuckles, from which he leaps back down into the ring, driving a vicious fistdrop between the eyes! “Wildchild is in the zone, King!” exclaims Comet. “He has completely taken over this match!” “Wildchild’s running on raw adrenaline right now,” says King. “Hawke needs to find a way to get him on the ground and sap that excess energy out of him, so that he can regain control!” WC pulls Hawke to his feet and continues to punish him with punches to the head. The gauze covering the challenger’s arms has been soaked in the Champion’s blood, as Wildchild draws back an arm and staggers Hawke with a reverse knife-edge chop! He grabs Jay by the side of the head and delivers a headbutt which drops him to one knee, and then runs towards the ropes, exploding into the air as he bounces off and knocking Jay backwards with a flying headbutt… That sends him tumbling towards the door! Jay Hawke instinctively rolls onto his belly and begins crawling frantically towards the door of the cage! “The door is open!” shouts Comet. “Jay Hawke’s going to make a break for it!” “Go Hawke, Go!” cheers King. “You’re almost there!” Jay gets both hands locked around the threshold and begins to pull himself out of the cage! His hands touch the arena floor, and he begins to pull the rest of his body out! “He’s done it!” crows King. “Once his feet touch the ground, it’s all over!” But, before he can make a clean getaway, Wildchild races over and grabs him by his right leg! He starts to pull Jay back into the ring, but the Dean grabs onto the cage wall and begins to pull back! “We’ve got a veritable tug of war going on here,” says Comet, “with the International Title on the line! Who’s going to win this battle, King?” “Well, Jay Hawke would normally have the strength advantage, but the adrenaline running through Wildchild’s veins right now makes it just about even,” remarks King. “If Jay can just hold on until Wildchild starts to tire, he should be able to win this!” “Perhaps,” ponders Comet. “But how long can Jay Hawke hang on before HE starts to tire?” Hawke begins kicking frantically at WC’s chest with his left leg to push him away, until the Bahama Bomber finally wises up and stands on the far side of Jay’s right leg. Suddenly, inspiration strikes him as he opens his mouth wide and latches his teeth onto Jay’s calf! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Whoa! He’s biting him!” roars King. “How low can you get, to bite your opponent?” Caught by surprise, Jay screams out in pain and, for an instant, relaxes his grip on the cage wall… … And instant that proves to be all the time that Wildchild needs… WC pulls Jay back into the cage, and Hawke desperately crawls away from the challenger, begging off as Wildchild draws near. WC pulls Hawke to his feet, but the Dean stuns him with a rake of the eyes, and then he grabs Wildchild by the side of the head and slams the back of the challenger’s head against the canvas! Hawke turns away and walks towards the edge of the ring, leaning against the top rope to catch his breath, but the fans begin to cheer loudly as Wildchild pops back to his feet, eyes wide with rage! “Unbelievable!” shouts King. “He’s back on his feet! Jay… turn around, quick!” The sudden increase in the crowd’s volume clues Jay in to something being amiss, and he turns around to see WC stomping towards him. He swings desperately with a right cross, but the Bahama Bomber blocks with his left forearm and knocks him to the canvas with a ferocious right hand! Wildchild grabs Hawke by the wrist and whips in into the corner, and then charges in after him and leaps into the air to deliver a splash, only for the International Champion to dive out of the way at the last second, causing WC to crash face-first into the top buckle instead! “Excellent reflexes on the part of the Champion!” praises King, as Jay grabs onto the wall of the cage and begins to climb. “And now, he’s going to try and get out of the cage!” Wildchild dashes over to Jay and tries to push him off the cage, but the Dean kicks him away! Sensing that he does not have WC compromised enough to attempt escape, Jay turns back towards the ring, using the cage wall to balance himself as he springs off the top rope... WHAM! … And knocks Wildchild off his feet with a missile dropkick! “Phenomenal move by Jay Hawke!” cheers King, as Hawke heads over to the corner. “And Jay Hawke’s going back to the top rope… I think he’s going for the diving headbutt!” “By Zeus, King,” agrees Comet, “I think you’re right!” “Well, if he hits this, he’s successfully defended his title! And how fitting would it be to beat Wildchild at his own game?” Hawke steadies himself on the top turnbuckle and then leaps off, aiming his head at Wildchild’s chest… WHAM! … But it jams into the canvas instead, as Wildchild rolls out of the way! “He missed!” cries Comet, as Wildchild crawls over to the corner. “Jay Hawke has just made a critical mistake!” Wildchild whips Hawke into the corner, running to the opposing ropes as Jay bounces off the turnbuckles and leaping into the air, snaring the Champion in a side-headlock as he flies by and driving him face-first into the canvas with a bulldog! He rolls Hawke over and hooks the leg… ONE! TWO! THR— But only gets two! WC pulls Hawke back to his feet and traps him in a front facelock. He reaches down to grab Hawke’s near leg and then lifts him into the air, turning three-quarters of a circle before falling backwards, slamming Jay’s head against the canvas with a corkscrew suplex! “There’s that patented corkscrew vertical suplex!” reports Comet, as WC points his finger towards the sky. “And we know what that’s a setup for, King: Wildchild’s going up top!” “This is a mistake; it was a mistake for Hawke, and it’ll be a mistake for Wildchild! Fatigue is too big a factor at this point in the match,” explains King. Sure enough, as Wildchild begins climbing, Jay pulls himself up to his knees. Seeing WC’s back turned to him, the Dean scrambles to his feet and rushes over to the corner, leaps into the air and hits Wildchild from behind with a flying double-axe handle that knocks his head against the corner of the cage! “What’d I tell you?” asks King triumphantly. “After the kind of beating these two have taken, even Wildchild is a step slower!” Jay climbs wearily up to the middle turnbuckle and wraps both arms around Wildchild’s waist before falling backwards, jerking WC off of the turnbuckles and driving him into the canvas with a devastating belly-to-back Superplex! “Gorgeous Superplex by Jay Hawke!” crows King. “Too bad he wasn’t able to hold on, or this match would be over! It might STILL be over, if he can crawl over to Wildchild in the next few seconds!” “That Superplex appeared to take a lot out of Jay Hawke as well,” notes Comet. “Or perhaps it’s the punishment he’s taken in this match catching up to him!” Determined to keep his title, Jay drags himself over to Wildchild, where he collapses atop his body… ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! WILDCHILD GETS THE SHOULDER UP! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! Jay’s eyes are nearly glassed over as he looks up at the lights in exasperation, as if asking some bodiless deity, “What do I have to do to put this guy away?” “Boy, you can see it in Jay Hawke’s eyes, King,” notes Comet, “he did not think that Wildchild was going to kick out of that Superplex!” “Neither did I!” concedes King. “I don’t think anybody did!” Wearily, Jay stands up and then pulls Wildchild to his feet alongside him. He kicks WC in the midsection to double him over, and then slaps his forearm to indicate his next move. Hawke runs to the edge of the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber suddenly springs to life, side-stepping Hawke as he draws near and leading him by the back of the head across the ring, slamming him headfirst into the cage wall! Jay staggers back towards the center of the ring and drops to one knee as WC runs to the opposing ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds and extending his leg over the back of Hawke’s neck… WHAM! … Before driving him face-first into the canvas with the Caribbean Cutter! The crowd begins cheering wildly as WC pops back to his feet, and become impossibly louder when he raises his arms above his head before pulling them down to his chest in that now familiar motion! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “That’s the sign for the Wild Ride!” gasps Comet. “If he hits this, we’ve got a new champion!” Wildchild traps Jay in an inverted standing headscissors and reaches back to lock in a double underhook. He then spins around and gets his feet squarely underneath him as he lifts Hawke onto his shoulders. WC looks out into the crowd and releases a primitive growl before he falls backwards… BANG! AND PLANTS JAY’S HEAD INTO THE CANVAS WITH THE WILD RIDE! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Wild Ride!” croaks Comet, as Wildchild rolls Hawke over. “By Zeus, it’s the Wild Ride! And Wildchild’s over for the cover… he hooks the leg… and this is about to be over, folks!” Nineteen thousand in attendance and several fans around the world count along with Red Herrington’s hand as it slaps the mat: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “He did it!” cheers Comet, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. “He did it! History has been made!” Wildchild collapses onto his stomach as he rolls off the chest of the former champion. Herrington walks over to the cage door and waits for Kivell to hand the International Title in to him. He then walks back over to Wildchild, helping him to his feet as the camera shows Melissa Fasaki streaking back down to ringside. “History has been made here in the America West Arena!” repeats Comet. “As the Wildchild has brought the record-breaking title reign of Jay Hawke to an end… And here comes Melissa Fasaki back to the ring to help Wildchild celebrate!” “This is a miscarriage of justice!” snarls King. “Wildchild had to have the deck stacked in his favor to win this match! After failure after failure, for months upon months, it took a match that was designed to allow him to get away with anything just for him to finally be able to beat Jay Hawke! He couldn’t beat the man wrestling, so he had to make it dirty… this makes me sick!” “Regardless of your personal feelings, King, this one will stand in the record books for all time,” says Comet, “as we get the official word!” DING! DING! DING! “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “the winner of this contest… “And… NEEEEEEEEEEW INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION... THE WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Bouncin’ Back” can’t even be heard over the raucous crowd, as Herrington presents the International Championship to its new owner, and raises his hand aloft in victory. “That was absolutely amazing!” praises Comet, as Melissa helps WC over to the corner. “Both men went all out to give these fans a tremendous match, and you can hear the appreciation from these fans here tonight!” Melissa holds the title for Wildchild as he begins climbing up the turnbuckles, and the America West Arena begins to echo with a chant of gratitude to the two competitors: THAT WAS AWE-SOME! *CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!* THAT WAS AWE-SOME! *CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!* THAT WAS AWE-SOME! *CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!* THAT WAS AWE-SOME! *CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!* “The fans here in the America West Arena are giving a standing ovation to both of these men!” shouts Comet. “Jay Hawke, you have nothing to be ashamed of; you’re the greatest International Champion of all time, and you gave it one hell of an effort tonight… But congratulations to the Wildchild! Perhaps the biggest victory of his career, as he has become the new International Champion! He’s bleeding, and he’s hurt… but he’s got the gold! Folks, we’re going to have to take a brief intermission while we take down the cage to get ready for our next match!” Jay leaves the cage dejectedly while Wildchild ascends to the top. Once he situates himself on the lip of the cage, he reaches down to Melissa as he reaches up to hand him the International Title. As Wildchild raises the belt above his head, the chants turn to cheers as the fans all remain standing to applaud both wrestlers… "Wildchild had succeeded where everyone else had failed, cementing his position as one of the brightest stars in wrestling." Still photo of Wildchild on top of the cage with the belt raised up high Sixth SWF International Champion: Wildchild

By their touring schedule, their world wide exposure & recognition, the size of the federation. it's about what level they operate on and everything. and I guess by that logic the WWE US & Intercontinental titles are world titles since they've been defended in every continent outside of Antarctica.

Ah so the XPW European title was also a world title then if we go by that criteria? how about the Intercontinental title since that's been defended outside the US. it's about the LEVEL of the federation - RoH is indies hardly even national since they don't regularly tour most of the country.

No he's been RoH Champion, that's not really the same even if the belt says "world", I mean so does the "Cousin Luke's Backyard Carnival" title belt.

I know, hence my comment "one new line?"

[Deep booming ”NFL Films” Voiceover] SWF Storm, Cancun, Mexico - April 29th 2005 ”At Battleground Landon Maddix had won the title and Jay Hawke had earned the first shot at the new champion. If Landon thought he could rest on his laurels he was wrong as he put the belt on the line no more than 5 days after winning the title to begin with.” “La Cucaracha faced the Dean of Professional Wrestling in the main event of Storm” #Flashback# Pete: “The Land of Nod! Landon Maddix is going to take Jay Hawke into the Land of Nod with that dragon clutch!” King: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Come on Jay! Get out of it!” Maddix continues to pull back on the neck, but he decides to add a body scissors to the hold -- partly to keep Jay Hawke trapped and unable to move toward the ropes, and partly to relieve the pressure off his own knee. Pete: “He’s got it now, King! No way can Jay Hawke gets out of this!” King: “You mean I have to suffer with another four month title reign from this guy?” Matthew Kivell moves in and asks Jay Hawke if he wants to submit, and Hawke waves his right hand to indicate that he can still continue. Kivell asks again, and the wave gets a little bit slower. He asks again… “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” …and this time the arm goes limp. Pete: “The challenger’s fading, King! After all the punishment Jay Hawke did to the International Champion, Landon Maddix is going to end up retaining it anyway!” King: “No! Anything but that! Fight it Jay!” But Jay can’t fight it. He’s fading fast. Todd Cortez shouts, “Tighter! Just a little tighter!” Maddix puts every bit of strength into the hold until Jay Hawke’s arm is completely at its side. Matthew Kivell lifts Jay Hawke’s arm… …it falls. Pete: “The arm drops once! Two more times and the match is all over!” Matthew Kivell lifts Jay Hawke’s arm… Megan Skye anticipates the end of the match, jumping up and down before giving Todd Cortez a quick hug. …it falls. The crowd erupts, as Jay Hawke is clearly out for the count. Pete: “One more it’s over!” Landon Maddix looks up, getting an eyeful of Megan Skye letting go of the hug she just gave Cortez. Matthew Kivell lifts Jay Hawke’s arm… …it… …doesn’t matter, as the hug has thrown off Landon Maddix’s concentration to the point that he releases the hold before Kivell can drop the arm the third time. Pete: “He let go of the hold!” King: “I think somebody got jealous of that hug on the outside!” Pete: “It means nothing, though! She was celebrating a sure victory!” Landon Maddix stares down with his mouth agape as if he wants to say something, but he just stands there with his arm outstretched as if to say “What the hell is going on?” Megan and Todd, too busy celebrating, have yet to realize Landon released the hold. Pete: “Maddix needs to ignore that and focus on…” …Jay Hawke gains his bearings just enough to hit Landon Maddix with a low blow from behind. Pete: “…Jay Hawke!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Landon Maddix crumbles to the mat, and Jay Hawke senses this might be his last opportunity. With Maddix face first on the mat, Jay Hawke pulls Maddix toward the center of the ring. He pulls back on the injured leg, locking in a half Boston crab. The crowd, only seconds earlier assuming their man was sure to retain, now has to try to rally their hero… “PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP!” Landon tries to crawl toward the ropes, and Megan Skye and Todd Cortez finally realize what’s going on and try to cheer Landon to make it. He gets a couple of feet away, but Hawke pulls him back into the center of the ring, this time driving a knee into the back of the neck as well. King: “Brilliant! He’s got the neck and the knee locked up!” “PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP!” Landon reaches forward, but realizing how far off he is and how much the pain is pouring through his body, he has no choice… TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP! *DING DING DING* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Megan Skye buries her head into her hands as Todd Cortez merely puts his head down. Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 15 minutes 41 seconds … the winner of the match … and NEW SWF International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” Matthew Kivell hands Jay Hawke the title belt, and Jay proudly raises it over his head. A still of Jay Hawke is shown on the screen with the International title peaking out from under his elaborate robe Third SWF International Champion: “the Dean of Professional Wrestling” Jay Hawke SWF Storm P.Diddy’s Private Island, the Seychelles - May 29th 2005 “After defeating Maddix Jay Hawke got embroiled in a heated series of matches with Arch Griffon over the gold, having already defended the title against Arch Griffon with success Hawke goes into his second International title defence against Arch Griffon with confidence. #Flashback# TWO!! THREEEEEEEE-NO!!! “YEEEEAAHHHH!” Fans on the island pop like rabid monkeys on speed. Hawke pops up from the cover, and immediately gets into the face of Mathew Kivell, who stands by his decision. Jay quickly walks over to the cane in the middle of the ring. He leaps on to of Griffon, and shoves the pipe into Arch’s throat. Griffon gasps for breath, as more blood get squeezed out of his forehead. Hawke throws the pimp cane away, and gets off of Griffon. He exits the ring, leaving his opponent gasping for air. Jay goes out to the aisle, and grabs his International Title belt. “Jay Hawke is willing to take every shortcut he can to win this match!” yells Pete. “These aren’t shortcuts, my Floridian friend. These are super cool attacks he is using,” says King. Hawke climbs the steel stairs and then climbs to the top turnbuckle. Back in the ring, Griffon slowly climbs to his feet. Finally taking his hands away from his throat, Griffon turns around. Quickly, Hawke leaps off the top. He holds the title high above his head, as he flies. The big man sees Hawke coming and takes a step forward. Griffon leaps up into the air to meet Jay. Hawke is helpless, and out of range for the belt shot. Arch grabs him in mid air, and spins into a one-hundred eighty degree turn. Griffon plants the Champion to the mat with a Twisting Spinebuster. “RRRAAHHHHH!” “Griffon just drove Jay into the mat with a Spinebuster! Hawke is out cold!” says Pete. “Hawke should have known better than to do that!” yells King. “You never open yourself up like that, no matter how much more athletic you may be!” Both Archie and Jay lie in a heap in the middle of the ring. Hawke lies on his back, looking up to the heavens. Griffon is on his stomach, and he is slowly crawling towards Jay. Archie throws an arm over Hawke and Kivell is right there too much the count. ONE!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEE-NO!!!! “YEEAAHHHOOHHHH!” “And Hawke is just able to kick out!” says Pete. “Archie is going to have knock Jay out to defeat him!” The middle of the ring is littered by droplets of blood. Above the droplets are Hawke and Griffon. Archie slowly rises to his feet. He wipes some fresh blood away from his eyes, and zones in on the fouled up neck and body of Jay. Griffon slowly drags Jay back to his feet. Griffon hits a boot to the stomach, which doubles the Champion over. Hawke nearly falls to the seat of his tights, as he gets a nasty knee to the face that brings blood off of his face like it was sweat. Griffon then puts on a standing head scissors on Jay Hawke. Arch quickly picks up the lighter man, and holds him in the air between his massive legs. Griffon hooks his arms around Hawke’s legs, gaining leverage. Griffon then drives the lifeless Hawke into the mat with the Arch Nemesis! “ARCH NEMESIS!” yells Pete. “RAAAAHHHHHH!” Griffon throws himself on top of Hawke, and Kivell slide into position. ONE!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! Kivell calls for the bell. “YEEEEEEAHHH!” *DINGDINGDING* “YOUR WINNER….AND NEEWWWW SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION….ARCH GRIFFON!” yells Funyon “Griffon has done it! Hawke couldn’t slow him down this time!” yells Pete. The big man Arch Griffon is shown with the title draped over his shoulder and a clenched fist raised in the air as he celebrates his upset victory over Hawke. Fourth SWF International Champion: Arch Griffon 13th Hour 2005: The Vatican - June 6th 2005 “Arch Griffon has held the International title for 15 days while the angry Ex-Champion hounded him and chased him until finally getting his rematch on PPV” #Flashback# With Nick Soapdish still on the mat in an attempt to shake off the cobwebs, Jay Hawke rolls out of the ring, then begins to crawl underneath the ring. Griffon reaches through the ropes and tries to grab a hold of Hawke. As Soapdish returns to his feet, he tries to grab Griffon and get him away from the ropes. Unaware it’s the referee, Griffon shoves Soapdish to the mat out of instinct. Pete: “Oh no!” King: “He’s going to end up getting himself disqualified!” Hawke has begun crawling from underneath the ring, and Griffon again reaches through the ropes to grab his challenger… THUNK! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” …only for the Dean of Professional Wrestling to level Arch Griffon in the left knee with a lead pipe. Griffon screams and clutches the knee as Hawke manages a smirk. Pete: “Come on!” King: “Brilliant! And because Griffon tossed Soapdish across the ring, the referee never saw that!” Jay Hawke slides back into the ring. Still holding his neck from the Arch Nemesis onto the title belt, he slowly gets to the center of the ring. He grabs Arch’s injured knee and spins him around, locking in an inside stepover toehold before spinning around into a crossface. Pete: “STF!” King: “And that’s going to wrench the knee!” Arch Griffon screams in pain as a dazed Soapdish turns around and crawls over to check on the champion. “PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP!” The crowd’s chants don’t block out the intense pain, as Griffon begins pounding on the mat with his fist, then biting his own fist to try to block out the pain. Jay Hawke pulls back just a little bit more though, and Griffon has no choice: TAPTAPTAPTAP! *DING DING DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 14 minutes 38 seconds … the winner of this contest … and NEWWWWWWWWWW SWF International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” The crowd continues to boo as Nick Soapdish picks up the title belt and hands it to Jay Hawke, who clutches it against his chest as he collapses to the mat out of exhaustion. “Jay Hawke recaptured the title from the big man and became a man obsessed with the title, his title.” Still photo of Jay Hawke with the International Title once again back in his possession. Fifth SWF International Champion: “the Dean of Professional Wrestling” Jay Hawke

Nevermind, deleted - you're not worth my time

LOL for a second I thought you meant the Velociraptor - but he's a Cruiserweight too

Add to that the lack of Cruiserweight title for Mr. Blackwell as well and considering that part of Landon's story has been that he only needs the Hardcore & Cruiser title to get the "grand Slam" I stand by my statement. I guess you'll just be left hoping or guessing if I was joking or not then won't you?