Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 As SWF Lockdown explodes onto television screens the crowd cheers, but before we get any further... TING! TING! TING! TING! The four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff that begin “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blasts throughout the arena, as the lights go out and blue strobes begins to flash in time with the music. Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, posing in a bent crucifix on the top of the stage! The crowd gives him a pretty decent reaction as he cockily steps down the ramp. Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one-fall, and it is for the SWF US CHAMPIONSHIP!!! Introducing first: from Harrison, Illinois, he weighs in at 237 pounds and is a member of CATCH-22... MIKE VAN SICLENNNNNN!!! Van Siclen slides into the ring and extends his arms to the side, dropping his arms and letting his jacket slide off and to the mat. Referee Timmy Thompson, hassled, picks it up as Van Siclen takes the time out to hop onto the turnbuckle, where he points to himself as the crowd continues their decent reaction. Stevens: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to SWF Lockdown, live from the Continental Airlines Arena in New Jersey, where we are gearing up for the first match of the night! Michael Craven defends his US Title against Mike Van Siclen in what is sure to be a home run! Riley: We’re in a frickin’ swamp, people. I can see why Jason Kidd wants out of here... Stevens: Oh, shut up, Bobby. Van Siclen hops down, but just as he does... “BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...” The lights totally cut out, the crowd begins to boo like crazy, and the announcers just shut up for a sec. Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar in the background as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. This is when golden waterfalls of pyro similar begin flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and the crowd really begins to raise their boos louder. A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop, about 50 seconds into the song, strobes still going. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage, his shiny SWF US Title wrapped around his waist. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself as the crowd begins to boo so loud, it hurts. His two belt girls follow him down the ramp, Craven not taking time to pose with them tonight as he makes his way down the ramp minus his usual swagger. Funyon: And From Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds... ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the SWF US CHAMPION... Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Funyon: ...MICHAEL CRAAAAAAVEN!!! He enters the ring by hopping over the top rope, landing on his feet. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, points to himself, and then does a Steiner-like flex with his biceps, barely smiling as the crowd continues to boo him. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle, climbs this, and repeats the whole thing, hopping off the turnbuckle as he focuses his attention on his opponent... Stevens: Van Siclen must be looking for payback after Battleground, where Craven beat him in that ring to regain his SWF US Title! Riley: And Craven’s looking for payback after watching “A Portrait of Mike Van Siclen”. Geez, can’t they find a better way to waste five minutes? Craven hands off his title, the ref holding the US Title up to the crowd before he hands it off to the timekeeper. Van Siclen steps forward, right up to Craven’s face. The Nightmare does not look pleased as he stares at Van Siclen, the Spectacle staring right back. The lines of tension seem to shoot from their eyes like laser beams or thunderbolts as the referee tries to explain directions. However, it is doubtful that the words sink in as the crowd, on their feet, cheers loudly while the two men stare each other down, the excitement building as the ref turns and signals to the timekeeper... DING DING DING!!! And off we go in this match. Craven makes the first move, shoving Van Siclen back. MVS staggers back, but suddenly lunges forward, smashing Craven in the face witha forearm! Staggering back is The Nightmare, Van Siclen charing forward and hitting another forearm smash that knocks both men down to the mat! Craven and Van Siclen quickly get to their feet, just in time for... “SLAP!” ... a hard slap across the chest! “Whoooo!!!” replies the crowd as Craven draws his arm back and slaps Van Siclen across the chest with another hard chop, causing the fans to go “Whoooooo!!!” again. Craven then suddenly switches over to right hands, delivering two hard ones to Mike’s temple before he grabs Mike’s wrist and whips him to the ropes! Van Siclen hits them, and as he bounces back, Craven sticks his arm out, stepping forward and knocking MVS to the mat with a clothesline! Stevens: Hard clothesline to Mike Van Siclen! The challenger is down! Riley: That’s what he gets for trying to fight The Nightmare! As Van Siclen scrambles to his feet, trying to get away, Craven catches him in the act. The Nightmare nails MVS with two hard right hands to Mike’s temple before he can get away, then grabs Van Siclen’s wrist and whips him to the ropes! Van Siclen hits the ropes, Craven bending over to grab him for a flapjack... “SMACK!” ...But MVS hits Craven with a surprise rolling wheel kick to the face off the ropes! Craven is knocked upright as he staggers back, grabbing his forehead while the US Champion rolls to his feet. Stevens: And Van Siclen counters with a rolling kick! Riley: I’m not sure that’s even a kick. Looked more like a fluke. Craven looks dazed as Van Siclen draws his arm back, slamming his fist into Craven’s face with a huge right hand! You can feel the momentum begin to shift a little as Craven staggers back, Van Siclen answering with another right hand as the crowd’s chants grow louder. Craven tries to answer back with a hard right, but Van Siclen blocks it, landing another hard right into Craven’s face in return! The Nightmare staggers back again, but now, Van Siclen grabs Craven by the arm and whips him to the opposite ropes! Stevens: Van Siclen has come alive, and so has this crowd!! Craven comes hard off the ropes and is quickly treated to a nice clothesline, slamming him to the mat. Craven slowly starts to get up, Van Siclen reaching out to grab him, but as he does, Craven reaches up and pokes Van Siclen in the eyes! The US Champion grabs his eyes and staggers back slightly, allowing The Gulf Coast Hurricane to rise to his feet. Stevens: Cheap blow by Craven! Riley: Cheap?! That was resourceful! Van Siclen staggers back, Craven running to and bouncing off the ropes, but as he flies back, Van Siclen quickly leaps into the air, thrusting his legs out with an effective dropkick! Both men go down to the mat, Van Siclen the first to his feet. Reactng quickly, he grabs Craven around the head as he gets to his feet. MVS stomps the mat as he lifts Craven up, and falls back, rolling him into a hard snap suplex! Stevens: Textbook snap suplex from The Spectacle, and he floats over into a pinning attempt! One! Kickout by Craven! The Nightmare gets his shoulder up, but Van Siclen quickly mounts him, beginning to pound away at his face with a seires of alternating hard rights and lefts, Craven trying to block it, but eventually, he knocks Van Siclen off him, both men getting to their feet, Craven doing it at a slower pace. Stevens: Van siclen picks up the one count as he continues to mount an offense! Riley: This is... well... embarassing, to say the least. Craven must be ashamed of himself right now. As Craven gets up, a recovering Mike Van Siclen turns to face Craven and grabs him by the arm, whipping him to the ropes. The crafty Craven hits them and flies back, but changes MVS’ plans, getting his arm ready to clothesline MVS to the mat. As Craven extends his arm out for a clothesline, Van Siclen jumps onto the waist of Craven and hooks his hands behind The Nightmare's head and neck. MVS quickly falls backwards and and pushes with his legs, using the momentum of Craven to flip him over backwards onto the mat! Craven lands with a hard “THUD!” on his back, his head whipping back into the mat with a smaller “Thud!” as he lies down on the mat, prone for another attack! Stevens: Monkey flip by Van Siclen, and Craven may have landed partially on his neck! He looks like he’s in a bit of pain, but he’s still down on the mat! Van Siclen rolls over onto Craven, though, again covering him as he tries to win the US Title! One!!! Two-kickout by Craven again! Van Siclen quickly gets to his feet, stomping Craven with a few boots before he pulls him to his feet, setting him up for another attack. Craven, though, suddenly unleashes the power of his right hand punches, delivering two hard ones to Mike’s temple before he grabs Van Siclen’s wrist and whips him to the ropes! Riley: FINALLY!!! Craven’s broken MVS’ momentum! Now all he’s gotta do is open up a can of whoop ass!!! Stevens: Or in your case, Bobby, open up a can of ass- Riley: If you try to say I’m gay one more time, I’ll- MVS flies to the ropes, bounces off them, and comes flying back, right into the arms of Craven. The former champ scoops up and clutches MVS across his chest, quickly spinning around before he drops, to the mat and executes an amazing powerslam!!! Stevens: Powerslam by Michael Craven! An angry Craven is on the offensive charge, taking his frustrations out on Van Siclen! As Stevens and Riley follow the match, Craven follows the slam up quickly as hooks Van Siclen’s leg, the ref dropping to count... One!!! ...Kickout by MVS! Unfortunately, the pain has just begun for him. Grabbing Van siclen by the head, Craven begins to slam his head repeatedly into the mat, the referee trying to get Craven to stop. Again and again he slams MVS’ head into the mat, but he stops, only to grab Van Siclen by the throat, holding him against the mat as he begint to choke him: Stevens: He’s doing it again! More dirty tricks from Craven! Riley: The ref isn’t DQing him, so it’s legal, Mark!!! The ref starts the count, but he doesn’t get very far before Craven lets up, grabbing Van Siclen by the throat as he pulls him to his feet. Once there, Craven grabs MVS around the head, and turning away from him, drops to the mat, slamming odnw Van Siclen’s neck! The sharp neckbreaker throws MVS to the mat, where he rolls onto his back as Craven slowly sits up from the last move. He slides across the mat on his knees, eventually ending up behind Van Siclen. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet, grabbing MVS underneath the chin and arms before he sits down, and pulls back, locking MVS inside a camel clutch! Riley: Camel clutch on Mike Van Siclen! The Spectacle is done for now! Van Siclen tries to fight through the hold, the pain and pressure increasing upon his neck. His teeth clench in pain as he tries to fight out of the move. His arms out to the sides prevent him from actually reaching out to the ropes for a break. Just when it seems like all the options are gone, Van Siclen remembrs how to stop it. He slides his knees under him, and slowly, begins to fight his way onto his feet! The Nightmare tries to force him down, but suddenly, the crowd comes into play, starting up a rapidly-spreading “MVS!” that grows with intensity each passing second. The support of the crowd seems to work it’s magic again, allowing Van Siclen to slowly progress, nearly falling once... twice before he manages to lift Craven up off the mat! Unfortunately, Van Siclen slips, falling back and accidentally slamming Craven to the mat, breaking the hold! Stevens: Van Siclen broke the camel clutch, but the damage may be done! Riley: I wouldn’t doubt it, Mark, Craven’s scary powerful, and he could have ripped MVS’ head off his body if he was trying! Van Siclen slowly begins to get to his feet, obviosuly avoiding the neck. A rising Craven, though, reacts quickly, and with a right-footed boot to the chest, causes Van Siclen to double over. Mike then wraps Van Siclen in a front headlock and drops back into a DDT, slamming Van Siclen to the mat! Once more, Mike’s weak point, his neck, is jarred by an impact with the mat, and once more, he stays down as Craven gets to his feet. The Nightmare scurries for the ropes, bouncing off them, and flying back at Van Siclen, he leaps into the air, dropping his leg across the throat of Mike Van Siclen with a loud slam! Stevens: Mega-sized leg drop from Michael Craven! He’s certainly taking it to Mike Van Siclen’s neck! And here’s a pin attempt! One! Two! Kickout by MVS! The crowd begins to pop, sensing a possible MVS comeback. Craven, though, is not done. Grabbing Van Siclen, he pulls him up into a sitting position, and moving behind him on his knees, grabs him around the neck from behind, clasping him around the head with a quick sleeper hold! Riley: Sleeper hold!!! This one is over for sure!!! Van Siclen’s eyelids shut, his teeth clenching as he tries to fight through the hold. With his free arm, he plants it on the mat and pushes upwards, forcing himself up against Craven’s wishes. Craven attempts to force him back down, but he can only send him back down momentarily. As soon as he gets to his feet, Van Siclen begins to jab his free elbow both hard and rapidly into the ribs of Michael Craven. Craven takes the first with a grunt, the second with a small cry, the third with another cry, but on #4, he releases the lock on Mike’s neck. Van Siclen then runs at half speed to the ropes, hitting and bouncing off them. As Mike bounces back, though, Craven dicks down, sliding Van Siclen onto his shoulders. However, the set-up for the Craven Driver does NOT goes as planned, as Van Siclen’s legs slide off Craven’s shoulders. This allows MVS to grab Craven in a front headlock, but quickly, he swings around like for the Eye of the Hurricane, slamming Craven face first into the mat! Stevens: CODE RED!!! CODE RED!!! MVS COUNTERS! Riley: He’s supposed to be done for, not fighting back!!! Stevens: It seems Craven’s battle plan had a little hiccup in it! Riley: It had a hiccup in it? You’re fucking wrong! Stevens: Is that what you say to your life partner? Riley grumbles as Craven is rolled onto his back, Van Siclen slowly crawling on top of Craven, the ref dropping to make the count! One!!! Two!!! Kickout by Craven! Both men slowly get to their feet, but as he gets up, Craven tries to throw a punch, but MVS ducks, Craven staggering back. Riley: D-d-d-d-da-damn... Stevens: You’re stammering, Bobby. Are you worried? Riley: I... uh... no! No... I’m not... worried... at all... Craven continues to stagger backwards, but as he does, Van Siclen latches his arms around him in a waistlock, The Spectacle pulling him off his feet as he bends back and drops Craven onto his shoulderblades with a German suplex! The waist lock is released, and that’s when it happens. Instead of landing as he should, Craven instead lands square on his neck, bouncing off the mat before he slams into it again on his chest. The accidental death German causes Craven’s neck to land awkwardly on the mat, remaining down as Van Siclen slowly sits up. Riley: Oh shit... he wasn’t supposed to land like that... Stevens: I don’t think he was, either! Van Siclen slowly rises to his feet, bringing Craven up as he does. Once there, he drills Craven with a hard punch to the forehead. Craven staggers back, then forward, and Van Siclen, knowing the neck is the weak spot for Craven, lunges at him. His feet quickly shuffle, followed by the abrupt thrusting of a leg upwards into Craven’s face as he executes a superkick, sending Craven FLYING into the air! His neck whips back as he slams into the mat, an exhausted Van Siclen slipping and falling to the canvas as well, both me lying down on the mat. Stevens: SUPERKICK!!! Superkick from Van Siclen! But both men are down on the mat! Who will get up first? As Craven lies out on the mat, a recovering Mike Van Siclen cralws over slowly and kicks Craven in the back, causing him to roll over onto his stomach, still clutching his neck in pain from the last move. Van Siclen, grinning at the opportunity to end this now, steps over Craven with his right leg so that he's straddling the Nightmare. Van Siclen steps in front of Craven's legs, sitting down and pulling back so that Craven's arms are trapped behind Van Siclen's legs! Having Craven's arms taken out of the picture, Van Siclen is free to reach forward with both arms, clasping them together and then putting them across the bridge of Craven's nose, pulling back to put Craven into a crossface from the Camel Clutch position, which Van Siclen calls the... Stevens: CARDINAL SIN CLUTCH! CRAVEN LOST THE TITLE BECAUSE OF THIS MOVE!!! Riley: DAMMIT!!! NO!!! The crowd erupts at Van Siclen's signature submission, as Craven's face twists into a mask of pain, the damage Van Siclen has delivered to his neck being amplified THREEFOLD, the submission quickly taking effect as the fans begin to chant "YOU'VE GOTTA TAP! YOU'VE GOTTA TAP!" Craven remembers the belt, though, and tells himself he has to hold out, even as Thompson asks him if he wants to tap out, he responds with a loud, emphatic: Craven: HELL NO! As he does so, Michelle, one of Craven’s belt girls, grabs a steel chair from under the ring, and quickly she slides into the ring. Kiko, her twin sister, joins her in the ring, raising the chair above her head as she moves into the referee’s sight... Van Siclen, hearing Craven’s defiant cry, just pulls back even harder on Craven's neck, SCREAMING at him to tap, tap away his chance to regain his title. Craven reaches out for the ropes, but he’s not close enough, and although Craven doesn't want to give up, he has only one choice! ... “TAP! TAP! TAP!” Stevens: HE TAPPED!!! HE TAPPED!!! CRAVEN TAPPED- Riley: But the ref didn’t see it!!! Mwahaha!!! Riley couldn’t be more right, as the referee quickly turned his attention to the two girls before Craven tapped out! Van Siclen releases the hold, believeing he has won, but Timmy Thompson is busy ushering the two ladies out of the ring, almost across the ring as he tries to hold them back! Stevens: DAMMIT!!! DAMMIT!!! THOSE TWO INTERFERED AGAIN! They did this at Battleground and nearly cost Van Siclen the match there, and now, they’ve cost him it here!!! Van Siclen slowly pushes himself to his feet as the two girls finally exit the ring. MVS sees that the ref was distracted, and almost instantly, his jaw drops and his shoulders shrug, arms raised into the air as Thompson turns around. Van Siclen wonders what the hell was Thompson doing. Thompson begins to explain the situation, pointing at the belt girls. Stevens: Van Siclen confused as to what just happened, and Thompson is explaing the situation to him. Van Siclen suddenly delivers a blinding stare to the two girls, who look scared. MVS’ lips curl into a smile as he develops a plan for dealing with these two... troublemakers. Stevens: Uh-oh! Riley: Hey, come on!!! leave ‘em, out of this!!! Van Siclen moves towards the girls, crowd cheering... ...But from out of nowhere, a barely recovered Craven desperately smashes him in the back with a forearm, forcing him to the mat! The two men hit hard, MVS landing on his chest. Once there, Craven grapevines the arm with his legs, locks his hands across Van Siclen’s face, and pulls back, locking in a- Stevens: CROSSFACE ON MVS!!! MVS’s arm flies out, reaching for the ropes half a second after the hold is locked in and Craven pulls back, but he’s too far from the ropes. However, his feet are free, allowing him to move himself towards the ropes. With great difficulty, he digs a foot into the mat and pushes himself a bit forward, repeating the process several times over, each time slower and slower as the pain increases for each second the crossface is held in Riley: He’s got to tap!!! He’s got to tap!!! Van Siclen’s hand still reaches out, fingers dangling in the air, trying to reach for the ropes that seem to be too far away. He keeps going, though, crawling closer and closer, desperately dangling his hand out for a second or two before he reaches out and finally grabs the ropes! The ref notes this, immediately calling for a rope break, which stirs up a cheer from the crowd! Riley: NO! THIS ISN’T HAPPENING! TELL ME IT’S NOT HAPPENING!!! Stevens: Yes it is! Van Siclen forces a rope break!!! Quick release of the hold by Craven, who looks quite displeased- However, as Craven releases the hold, he grabs Van Siclen around the arm and head, ripping the arm from the ropes, and rolling back, releases his legs, repositioning them into the body scissors position as he rolls on his side once, rolling into the center of the ring, Craven underneath Van Siclen, The Spectacle locked into a rear guillotine choke!!! Stevens: Some form of rear Craven Clutch!!! Van Siclen’s been immobilized in the center of the ring!!! Van Siclen tries to hold out, but now, it’s his turn to be taunted by Craven, who commands him to tap out, but The Spectacle fights through the hold, kicking his legs wildly while he tries to escape, but his legs slowly begin to calm down, Van Siclen’s free arm reaching out for the ropes... ... ... “Tap... Tap... Tap...” But the distance is too far for him to reach, Craven’s too big for him to throw off, and in his position, he can’t push his way to the ropes. Too many factors just have added up at once... Funyon: The winner of this match by submission and still SWF US CHAMPION... MICHAEL CRAVEN!!! Riley: I told you he was gonna do it! He tapped out because he can’t handle The Nightmare!! It looks like Craven’s victorious again! Craven releases the hold, lying in the center of the ring, completely exhausted from the fast and furious match. Van Siclen lies on the mat, exhausted from Craven’s holds and slams. The ref slowly heads to the timekeepr, grabbing Craven’s belt for him and handing it to him while he’s on the mat. Stevens: Van Siclen is one tough slugger! He managed to hold on a lot longer than I expected in Craven’s holds, and had this match won! But Craven cheats again to keep his title! Riley: He didn’t cheat!! He was innovating!!! Stevens: Regardless, we’ve got more SWF action on the way, so stay tuned! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 ===================== FADE IN Scenes from the SWF’s newest video game, SWF battleground, flash across the screen, featuring: Tom Flesher hitting the Boiler Maker on Xero, Justice and Rule hitting the Rule of Law on Déjà Vu Kris, and Frost hitting the Early Winter on Michael Craven. Announcer: “Time for the SWF Flashback, brought to you by SWF Battleground, now available for X-Box and Playstation 2!” ********************* *Splash to: Flashback: May 9th Storm. As Mike lies in a near fetal position after taking Sean’s spear, Atlas immediately stands up, albeit slowly as he’s suffered quite a bit tonight as well. He quickly grabs Spectacular Siclen by the head and forces him to stand while leaving Johnny where he is. Atlas then lowers his shoulder a bit and grabs hold of Mike’s leg with one hand, along with his arm using the other... Atlas positions Mike over across his back and holds him in place, taking in the loathing of the fans. He turns around, positioning himself so that the downed body of Johnny Dangerous is to his side, the same side that Van Siclen’s head is on... And he jumps! He drops! AND LANDS ON THE MAT, DRIVING MVS’ HEAD INTO THE CHEST OF JOHNNY DANGEROUS WITH THE... Riley: SAINT’S DEMISE! THAT’S IT! Stevens: RIGHT INTO THE BODY OF THE BARRACUDA! Atlas lets Mike’s legs drop to the mat as he rolls him away, making sure no part of him is left touching Johnny. Dangerous, meanwhile, lets out a horrible cry, naturally grabbing his chest in anguish. But his legs are soon hooked, and his chest targeted again as Atlas buries his back into it, making the cover.... ...O...N...E... ... ...T...W...O... ... TTTTTHHHHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!! Riley: SEAN ATLAS WINS THE MATCH! *************************** *Splash-swipe to: Flashback: May 23rd Storm Groggy and spent, Atlas uses the collapsed body of Beezel for leverage as he forces his way back up. He clumsily stands and once again takes Beezel by the hand. Pulling him up, Atlas drags his body onto his shoulders once more, looking to seize the leg and properly place Beezel across his back. Stevens: Once more time, Mr. B! You’ve evaded this twice already, just escape again!!! Riley: He wont.... He can’t.... ATLAS JUMPS! . ... ... AND HITS THE SAINT’S DEMISE! Riley: AND HE DOESN’T! ATLAS HITS IT RIGHT! Stevens: THE THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM FOR SEAN ATLAS, DRILLING BEEZEL THROUGH THE CANVAS WITH THE SAINT’S DEMISE! Riley: COVER!! ...O.....N.....E... ...T.....W.....O... ...T.....H.....R.....E.....E.....!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Riley: ATLAS WINS! DING-DING-DING! “The winner of this bout... SSSEEEEAAAANNN ATLAS!!!” Stevens: It was not to be for the Catch-22 leader as he can only escape Sean Atlas’ deadliest move twice before falling victim to it. Riley: The battle of the masked men has been won, and Sean Atlas is the victor! Stevens: It was a heated contest, and likely the toughest that Sean Atlas has had to face since his arrival here. But he overcame the loss to Craven last week, and prevailed over the thread of Beezel here tonight. Riley: This makes three Catch-22 members that Atlas has beaten so far, right? ****************** *Splash-swipe to: The screen returns to the video game highlights, repeating the same ones from the beginning of the segment. Announcer: SWF Battleground! Now available on X-Box and Playstation 2! **************** FADE TO: Backstage, in the interview area, the SWF’s Man on the Street Ben Hardy is standing with the enigmatic Sean Atlas. Ben: I’m here with Sean Atlas, who’s got a match with Wildchild in just a few moments. Mr. Atlas, so far you’ve had pretty good success against Catch-22. Do you expect anything different tonight? Atlas: If anything, I expect this to be easier. This Wildchild likes to take unnecessary risks, risks that I fully intend to capitalize on. Ben: You aren’t at all worried about having to match Wildchild’s speed? Atlas: Not in the least. Unless he plans to use that vaunted speed to run out of the arena and back to the Bahamas, his speed is not going to be a factor. It’s certainly not going to save him from the Saint’s Demise. Ben: And, after you’ve conquered Catch-22, what do you have in store for the SWF? Atlas: I've got plenty of plans, Ben. None of which I'm about to tell you. Catch-22 is nothing more than a stepping-stone for me to get where I'm going. Ben: Mr. Atlas, thank you for your time. Atlas starts to walk off, but turns back around and reaches at Ben’s neck, grabbing the cross pendant and snatching it off, tossing it in a nearby trash can. His mask hides a sinister smile as he walks away. Ben: (a forlorn expression on his face). W-W-Well, that’s going to do it from here. Mark, Bobby, back to you. As we: FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 *Cue heavy electric guitars* “YYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!” cheers the crowd as the first riffs of “The Everlasting Gaze” by the Smashing Pumpkins blats into the Continental Airlines Arena. A second ovation follows as The Wildchild leaps through the curtain, his head bobbing along with the beat. Jogging towards the ring, The Bahama Bomber slaps hands with lively fans while Funyon reads off his cue card. “The following contest is a No-Disqualification set for one fall! Introducing first, from the Bahamas, weighing in at 217 pounds... WIIIILLLLLDDCCHHHIIIIIILLLD!” Hearing his name called, the Bahamian darts into the ring, somersaulting between the bottom and middle ropes. He instantly springs back to his feet and heads for the corner, leaping onto the middle rope to pose for his adulating fans. Stevens: Last week he teamed with Johnny dangerous to topple the forces of Longdogger Pete and Frost. Tonight he’s out on his own, accepting the challenge of Sean Atlas in a No-Disqualification matchup! Riley: If Atlas wins tonight, and we all know he will, he’ll have defeated every member of Catch-22 single-handedly! Quite a feat, if I do say so myself. Stevens: But Wildchild may be too fast for Atlas to keep up with. He’ll be looking to defend the dignity of his group, and can do so using any means necessary with out fearing disqualification. Riley: No-DQ definitely favors Atlas though, as we’ve seen in the past. Let’s see how things swing tonight. Once the Smashing Pumpkins grow fainter, the Continental Airlines Arena darkens, then fills with the soft notes of Lacuna Coil’s “Heaven’s a Lie”. The one bright spot in the building, the Smarktron, displays Atlas’ classic crucifix entrance from Battleground - a sacrilegious display of the cross. As electric guitars bring the intro to a climax, the screen becomes whiter and whiter until... !*BOOM*! ...a massive explosion blasts on the stage, producing a cloud of smoke. Through this haze emerges the form of Sean Atlas, striding confidently down the ramp to the jeers of Jersey bums lining the stands. Funyon, glad he isn’t from this dump, introduces him. “And his opponent, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 240 pounds... SEEEAAAAANN AAATTTLLLAAASSS!” Reaching the ring, Sean walks up the stairs and steps inside. Wildchild relaxes in the corner, waiting for the match to begin while Sean anxiously paces around, encouraging the bell ringer to do his job. Finally, Sean’s music dies away and Wildchild steps away from the corner, readies himself, and approaches Sean... DING-DING-DING! Stevens: And the match is on! Before the echo of the final bell fades away, Atlas sprints toward Wildchild and raises his arm for a clothesline... but the Tropical Tumbler ducks it before Sean even reaches him and dashes towards the ropes ahead. Quickly bouncing off, Wildchild runs at his masked opponent who hadn’t turned around until now... And attacks with a leg lariat! Atlas goes down in a heap, surprised that Wildchild really is THAT fast while ‘Child himself remains on his feet. Atlas springs right back up, trying to keep up with Johnny Dangerous’ partner, but Wildchild is far too fast and kicks the back of Atlas’ knee to knock him down. Before Sean even lands on his knees, Wildchild is already on the run, heading for the ropes. He bounces off and returns to Sean, swinging his elbow out towards Atlas’ temple... But Sean ducks out of the way, not knowing what to expect. The running elbow missed but the quick-thinking Wildchild then heads for the ropes in front of Sean, bounces off and thrusts his feet out...! Stevens: Springboard dropkick from the Child of the Wild! Riley: You know, with Wildchild’s facepaint, it looks like he’s wearing a mask as well. Stevens: But he isn’t. And actually, Atlas’ mask looks more like facepaint than a mask Riley: Yeah. Leather facepaint. Good call, chief. Wildchild kicks Atlas in the gut and grabs onto his head, then runs forward and drops down, hitting a bulldog. He hops back up and heads for the ropes. Jumping onto the middle one, the Caribbean Cruiser springs off, flipping backwards in the air... but lands on his feet when Atlas rolls away, avoiding the Asai Moonsault. Sean stands up as quickly as he can, but as he turns around to look at Wildchild, the young Bahamian’s boot is en route to his covered face and catches him in the forhead! Stevens: ... and gets Atlas with a Shuffling Sidekick! Riley: I hope Sean slows down a bit. He can’t keep up with Wildchild for the entire match. Wildchild stands up and once again heads for the ropes. Atlas shakes off the kick, meanwhile, and forces himself to stand up. The rapidly running Wildchild is already on his way back already and as he leaves his feet Atlas reacts by falling flat to the mat... causing Wildchild’s flying forearm to miss! Amazingly, The Tropical Tumbler lands on his feet and reaches the other set of ropes while Sean hastily scrambles to his feet... ‘Child steps off the second rope, uses it to spring to the top as he curls into a ball... then launches himself towards Atlas...! And GETS him with the PINBALL! Stevens: Listen to this crowd! Behind Wildchild the entire way as he hits Sean Atlas with his most signature move. Riley: Atlas better recov... no wait, he’s being pinned! ...O...N...E... ...T...W...O... ...NO! Riley: Whew! Atlas gets a shoulder up right on time. Stevens: Wildchild’s tactics are working perfectly so far. And until Atlas manages to catch him, they will continue to do so. Resolute after the kickout, Wildchild gets Atlas to stand up. Whipping him into the corner, he makes sure to let Sean go quickly, so that Atlas doesn’t hold on as he so often does. Hitting the pads with his back, Atlas breathes heavily to get his wind back. But even breathing becomes a distraction once he notices the sound of boots rapidly hitting the ring mat. He looks up to see a black “V” coming at him, which quickly becomes the blue and yellow body of Wildchild! Stevens: Blue Crush from the Bomber! Riley: He’s running circles around Atlas, damn! There’s just no catching that guy... Stevens: And you’d want to ‘catch’ him, wouldn’t you... Riley: Who writes your material? Who!? Is it Mr. G? It’s Mr. G, isn’t it? Tsk, I swear, if I ever see that little... Stevens: I’m sorry Bobby, but I have a match to call. Wildchild doesn’t take even half a moment to rest before mounting the middle ropes while clutching Sean’s head. He lets the ropes go and buries his feet in Atlas’ midsection, then falls back, dragging Sean down... and pushes him off, Monkey-flipping the poor bastard halfway across the squared circle. As Atlas lets out a groan and tries to recover, Wildchild begins to climb the turnbuckle he just emptied. Reaching the top, he sits and waits while Atlas comes to his feet. We finally get a chance to see Wildchild breathing heavily, showing that despite the incredible speed, he’s still human. Meanwhile the fans, riled up since the start of the bout, show their support for the cruiserweight... “WI-LD-CHI-LD” *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* “WI-LD-CHI-LD” *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* “WI-LD-CHI-LD” *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* “WI-LD-CHI-LD” *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* Riley: Watch out, Sean, he’s waiting up there! Stevens: He can’t hear you over all the commotion... “WI-LD-CHI-LD” *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* And he leaps off... flips forward... and HITS Atlas with a Shooting Star Missile Dropkick!!! Stevens: Another unique maneuver brought to you courtesy of the one and only Wildchild! Riley: Atlas won’t be able to keep... dammit, he’s covering again! ...O...N...E... ...T...W...O... ...NO! Riley: And Atlas kicks out again! Good man, Sean, good man. Stevens: You must really like that guy. REALLY like him... Riley: Only as a friend. It’d never work out between us. Stevens: Uh... Bobbie? Riley: What? Oh, no I didn’t mean it like... I was just... Ugh. I hate life. Showing no signs of frustration Wildchild continues on the offensive, bringing Atlas to his feet. He uses a forearm or two to bring Atlas into the ropes, then launches him across the ring to the other side. Sean springs right off and runs back towards Wildchild, who leaps off his feet, get in the air and tries to land on Sean’s neck for a Rana... But Sean slides down, avoiding the move! Using his position wisely, Sean quickly grabs hold of ‘Child’s feet and pulls back, taking him down to the mat with a Rear Leg Sweep. Surprised by the sudden offense from Sean, Wildchild scrambles to his feet and turns around to face the masked man, only to watch him leap forward, taking Wildchild down with a Spear! Stevens: Finally, Sean Atlas shows some signs of life and surprises Wildchild with some offense of his own. Riley: It’s about time, dammit. This has been nearly one-sided thus far. Atlas gets himself off Wildchild and comes to his feet just before the Bahamian does so as well. Sean sends some rapid fire kicks to Wildchild’s knees, apparently trying to use the same style of offense that his opponent uses. It backfires however as Wildchild catches Sean’s leg on one kick attempt, holding it in front of him.... But that’s exactly what Atlas expected as he avoids the temptation to use an Enziguri and instead, uses his other leg to jump, flip back, and in the same motion, kick Wildchild under the chin! Sean lands on his chest after the backflip while Wildchild suddenly drops down, clutching his jaw! Stevens: What a move by Sean Atlas! That’s the Cruise Kick, if I’m not mistaken. Riley: It sure if, mark and he was right on target with it! Momentum building inside, Sean stands and runs at the ropes nearest to Wildchild’s feet. Springing off, he heads back towards the Caribbean Cruiser and ducks down, grabbing his feet and flipping over for the Jackknife Pin, hoping for cover him.... But before he flips over and lands over his opponent, Wildchild sits up and blocks his back, forcing him back down face first. He slither out from under Sean’s grip and rolls backwards, reverse-somersaulting to his feet and using the ropes behind him to stop. With Atlas just starting to stand up, Wildchild turns around and swings over the middle rope. Then, Wildchild launches himself onto the top rope, stands and spring off it... turns in mid air... and lands backwards on Atlas’ shoulders! He arches back, dragging Sean with him to hit.... Stevens: JUNKANNNOOOOO!!!!! Riley: How did Sean miss that?! Didn’t he... DAMMIT, another interruption from Wildchild’s pin!! ...O...N...E... ...T...W...O... ...T...H...NO! Riley: And yet another kickout from Sean Atlas! Stevens: He hasn’t got much left, Riley. Not at this pace. Now showing a bit of irritation, Wildchild stands up and brings Atlas his feet. Kicking him in the gut, ‘Child takes his arm and puts on a standing wristlock. He leads Atlas towards a corner and using the masked man for balance, walks up the ropes. The fans stand up to watch their favorite cruiserweight walk the ropes as he embarks on his tightrope journey around the ring. Stevens: It’s the Praying Rope Walk, Bobby! Riley: Well, we all know how much Atlas hates praying... Stevens: ... Riley: Ba-da-boom, tish! Wildchild rounds one corner, then walks along a second side while the fans grow louder with each step. He holds on tightly to his third leg, Sean Atlas as he walks across the middle, then around a second corner. All of a sudden he starts to lose his balance, however as Atlas smartens up and screws with his equilibrium. Pushing him towards the outside, Sean quickly grabs on to his foot to keep him close... But it’s not to stop him from falling. Rather, Atlas pulls Wildchild from the top rope by his hand and leg, setting him up for a Leg Capture Suplex! He turns around with his back to the ropes, elevates Wildchild over his head... and DROPS him out of the ring to the flood below with a modified Leg Capture Suplex!!!! Stevens: Watch out! Wildchild just landed right in front of out table here due to Sean Atlas’ dangerous suplex! Riley: Maybe Wildchild shouldn’t have been showing off his Praying Rope Walking skills. I told you Atlas didn’t like Prayers. Stevens: Do he have anything against flaming homosexuals, because if so you’re out of luck. Riley: Now that was uncalled for... I expected better from you, Mark. Luckily, Wildchild landed on his feet before plopping to the floor completely. The drop did hurt though and he Is powerless as Sean exits the squared circle to join the Child of the Wild on the outside. Taking him by the hand, Atlas doesn’t allow a second to recover before whipping him along the edge of the ring and directly into... *CLANG* The steel ring steps! Wildchild hits them with his back, not that it’s any less painful. Sean, meanwhile reaches under the ring as the referee, Billy Chiota looks on, unable to do anything about it in this matchup. Riley: Finally, something that actually fits a no-DQ match. Stevens: You know, I was hoping this would stay clean, but no luck for that. Sean emerged from under the ring with... a wooden bat! The crowd’s expression shifts from sustained boos to mild cheers and heavy concern as Atlas wields the bat, which has had some nail work down to it at the barrel. Riley: It’s a baseball bat, Mark! You should love that! Stevens: In a grassy field on a cool summer day, sure, but not inside a wrestling arena on a rainy, gloomy night! Especially when the bat has had nails driven through it! Riley: You’re no fun. Atlas grips the bat at its bottom and stands facing Wildchild. The paint on his face is smeared a bit form the sweat, but Atlas uses it as a bull’s-eye mark for where to aim... and he swings the bat!!!!! !*CLANG*! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Stevens: THANK GOD WILDCHILD MOVED! Riley: That would have been the end of him for sure! Stevens: And it seems as if Sean is struggling with something... Yes, he is! One of the nails in the bat is stuck in the steel steps!! Sean foolishly continues to try and jerk the bat out from the stairs, but is rudely interrupted when Wildchild runs up behind him, grabs the bottom rope from the floor and uses it to swing his foot around into the face of Sean Atlas! He immediately falls backwards onto the protective mat while Wildchild steps onto the steps and immediately jumps off... Landing on top of Atlas with a Leg Drop!!! Applause fills the building as the fans cheer their favorite Caribbean Cruiser. He quickly recovers from the hard drop, however, choosing to ignore the pain rather than wait for it to lessen. He brings Atlas to his feet and slams his head against the announcers’ table. Once off the protective cover, then takes it off and does it again on the top surface! Riley: Whoa, Bahama-boy. Not so close. You might hurt someone... like me! Stevens: Yes, listen to Bobby... Hurt him! After repeatedly knocking Atlas’ head against the table, WC places him on top of its surface, spread out the long way. He leaves Sean and heads back to the ring, hopping onto the apron as the audience members come to their feet... Stevens: Oh no... Not this... Riley: I think we better go, Mark. Stevens: Definitely. I’m with you... No, wait, I’m not with you. Let go of me. Wildchild sidesteps to the midpoint of the apron, standing perpendicular to Atlas’s lying body... He extends his arms out in a T-shape, then bends at the knees and looks right... then left... then prepares to leap off.... But Atlas rolls off the top of the table! He falls to the floor in front of it as Wildchild steps down, disappointed that he couldn’t hit the Andros Drop as planned. Unrelenting though, he takes Sean and walks him over to the announcers, who have returned to their seats now that the danger of their table being wrecked has faded. Riley: Why are they walking towards me? I didn’t do anything. I don’t owe them money... What gives? Stevens: I think they want a three-way with you... Riley: Really? Cool... Stevens: A Triple Threat, that is. Riley: Oh.... YYYOOOOWWW!!!!!!! The scream is soon followed by crowd laughter as Wildchild buries Atlas’ face in the now-hurting crotch of Bobby Riley! Luckily, Atlas’ mask protects him from any real damage but just the thought of it repulses him and motivates him to fight back more than ever. His arms flail, until he quickly realizes something and instead, reaches underneath Riley’s seat... He grabs onto the chair that Bobby’s sitting on and pulls, causing Riley to fall backwards and away from his face... With the chair in his hands, Atlas instantly folds it and with one swing back over his head, hits Wildchild in the chest!!! Riley: (high-pitched) Youchies! Stevens: You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that! At least a little bit. Riley: Ice. Need ice. Fast. Stevens: Meanwhile, it seems like Wildchild has been forced away with the steel chair. Atlas stands up while Wildchild rears back, clutching his ribs after a steel chair was so crudely swung at him. But it doesn’t fend off Sean Atlas as he swings it once again, this time at Wildchild’s back... *THWACK!* And Wildchild doesn’t react.. Instead, he straightens out, turns around and reveals blood on the tops of his fingers... Stevens: Oh yes... BLOOD FRENZY! The fire in Wildchild’s eyes burns brighter as he wipes even more blood from his chest, cut open by a sharp edge on the steel chair. Atlas meanwhile, with chair in hand, dashes towards the ring, running from Wildchild in a futile effort to get away. He slides in under the bottom rope but just as he does so, the Bahama Bomber is right on his tail, hitting a flying forearm to the back of his head! Atlas drops the chair and goes down while Wildchild forces him to stand up. He kicks Atlas to the gut and locks on a front-face-lock, then quickly snaps his hips and lifts Atlas, twists around and slams him back down wo the mat with the Corckscrew Suplex! Stevens: This is what he does when in the Blood Frenzy~! Keeping the facelock on, Wildchild rotates around and gets Atlas standing once more. This time, hoever, he grabs Sean’s leg as if for a Fisherman’s suplex... He lifts, holding Atlas in the air vertically as the fans who have no yet come to their feet do just that... and drops to his knees.... !*SLAM!*! HITTING THE WILD RIDE II!!!!!!! Stevens: WILD RIDE 2003!!!! WILDCHILD MAY WIN IT RIGHT HERE! Riley: Wildchild hooks the leg!!!! ...O.....N.....E... ...T.....W.....O... ...T.....H.....R..... *THWACK!* Stevens: WHAT??? Riley: Atlas just used the chair to kick out! Stevens: He lifted it over his head and slammed it against Wildchild’s back! That’s more blood! Riley: But what a ring presence by Sean! And kicking out of the Wild Ride II - a Mexican Stretch Buster... That’s impressive and no one has ever done that to Wildchild! An enraged Wildchild immediately stands up, unwilling to feel the effects of the desperate chairshot. He lifts the tired body of Sean Atlas off his feet and whips him towards the far ropes. As he releases Sean’s hand, Wildchild instantly heads towards the near ropes next to him. Springing off, he’d en route to Atlas, who has just reaches the ropes on his side... but didn’t bounce off. Instead, Atlas clung to them with his arm, latching on to prevent returning to the Bahama Bomber. Wildchild hasn’t taken this into account, however, and continues as planned, leaving his feet for a cross-body block... But it CAUGHT in mid-air by the Masked Machiavellian, Sean Atlas! His body naturally jerks back and nearly falls, until his back hits the ropes, keeping Sean on his feet! Balancing himself, Atlas secures his grip around Wildchild, who thrashes about to get away. He’s unsuccessful however, as Sean struggles to carry him up and onto his shoulders, across his back.... Stevens: Sean’s setting him up for the... Riley: SAINT’S DEMISE!!! Atlas gets a solid grip around Wildchild’s neck with one arm, then around his flailing legs with the other. He rotates about, as he usually does before hitting the move to show himself to everyone in attendance. Atlas then releases a brief sigh of relief, bends at the knees and leaves his feet... Stevens: IN THE AIR...!!! *CRASH!!* RILEY: AND THROUGH THE CANVAS!!! Wildchild’s body comes out of its contorted shape and falls flat to the mat, his back solidly hitting the surface. Breathing heavily, Atlas drapes an arm over Wildchild’s chest, finally covering him for the win... Riley: The last member of Catch-22 falls to Atlas! ...O.....N.....E... ...T.....W.....O... ...T.....H.....R.....E.....E.....E.....N....NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Riley: WHAT?!?! Stevens: THE CARRIBEAN CRUISER KICKED OUT OF THE SAINT’S DEMISE! Riley: How!? What the hell, he’s not supposed to do that!! Stevens: During Blood Frenzy, he is! The image on Atlas remains the same, but the face beneath the mask must be in shock. No one, outside of a select few in the Junior League, has ever kicked out of the Saint’s Demise. EVER. And now this short, fast, bleeding little Creole-speaking Bahamian has disrespected him like this? Sean will not stand for it. He will stand up for it however and he gets to his feet, holding on to Wildchild’s hand as he does so. Bringing the Tropical Tumbler to a standing position, Atlas looks around for the bloody chair that he used to bust him open. Seeing it laying by the ropes where he lost it, Atlas turns back to Wildchild, ducking underneath... Riley: What’s he thinking, Mark? What can he possibly do to finish him off now? Stevens: It looks to be... another Saint’s Demise? Lifting Wildchild onto his shoulders once again, this time Atlas finds it easier to solidly latch onto him. To the sound of the bemused crowd, he walks towards the fallen chair, looking into the faces of the fans beyond it. He reaches the edge of the ring and steps onto the steel, holding the 217-pounder across his back the entire time. He then flicks his foot back to kick the chair towards the center of the ring... Stevens: Oh no he isn’t... Riley: OH YES HE IS! Demise onto the chair! The same chair that he swing at Wildchild to bust him open! Atlas runs to the chair as fast as his feet could carry him and Wildchild... the leaps off.... Riley: AAAAAA!!!!! ... AND LANDS A SECOND SAINT’S DEMISE ONTO THE CHAIR!! Riley: Cover him! COVER!! ...O.....N.....E... ...T.....W.....O... ... ...THREE!!!!!!! Stevens: And that’s all she wrote. “Your winner... SEAN ATLAS!” The fans boo, hiss and holler as Atlas rolls onto his back, deathly tires from such a fast paced bout. Slowly, he forces his body towards the nearest edge and carefully slides out of the ring, trying to make as fast a getaway as he can before the rest of Catch-22 can arrive. “Heaven’s a Lie” blasts up once again over the sound system while Sean climbs up the ramp with great effort. Stevens: It took two Saint’s Demises and a whole lot of willpower, but Sean Atlas has defeated the threat of Wildchild, and he now holds victories over his entire stable. Riley: What a run for this kid. Mike, Johnny, Beezel, Wildchild. Even LDP a few shows back! Who’ll be the first to stop him? Atlas reaches the stage and turns around, looking at the jeering fans once more. He brings about another round of boos before escaping through the curtain and to the back. Stevens: I don’t know, Bobby, but someone better do it soon. You don’t want a runaway train to gain more speed.... We’ll be right back, folks. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 The camera fades in on the lovely image of a smoldering tire fire. Accompanied by a shrill cackle of, “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The shot slowly transitions to Bobby Riley howling at the commentator’s table while Mark Stevens looks at him miffed. “That is not funny to have sent a cameraman out there, Bobby,” Mark chastises. Riley fights through his laughter to speak, “Dude, we’re in New Jersey, there’s a tire fire on every other street corner and you don’t want to know what’s on the street corners in between.” Mark sighs and shoots the camera an apologetic look for his broadcast partner. “We are indeed coming to you live from the Continental Airlines Arena here in East Rutherford, home of the NBA finals bound New Jersey Nets. However, tonight it’s the SWF delivering our own slam dunk as longtime rivals Tod DeKindes and TNT square off, Danny Williams puts up the ICTV belt against Beezel, the tag team champions are oddly put at odds and World Champion Tom Flesher dukes it out with the recently returned Boston Strangler.” “Yeah, but up next we have your go-get-a-nacho-hat match as two broken down has-beens, Frost and Nathaniel Kibagami, try not to trip over their own feet and break their fool necks,” Riley sarcastically barks. “It’s interesting to note that these two men have never squared off before in the SWF or SJL,” Mark points out. “Lord knows this would have been a great match about six months ago when Silent was running roughshod over Edwin MacPhisto and Frost was still the enforcer of the Magnificent 7, but they both went out and got consciouses and have both sucked harder than Mike Van Siclen working in a massage parlor since.” “Both men have traveled a long road, but appear to be pleased at where they’re at in life and in the ring. I look for a hard fought match up between two seasoned veterans.” Stevens hypes. Riley purses his lips annoyed. “You’re cue card writers just get more and more clichéd.” At that moment, the arena is plunged into total darkness with only the image of a flaming red ankh on the Smarktron providing illumination. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, turning to outright cheers as the houselights flicker on with a blood red cast and “Forty-Six and Two” plays from the loud speakers. Slowly, the lights flare brighter as the lines, “I want to feel the changes coming down/I want to know what I’ve been hiding…” blares out. Blinding white pyrotechnics fill the stage and blind the fans gasping in awe. Their vision slowly returns in time to make out a menacing figure striding through the leftover smoke. “Introducing first,” Funyon announces “at a weight of 268 pounds and hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, NATHANIEL…KIIIIIIBAAAAGAAAAMIIIIIIIIIII!” Stevens: “Nathaniel has looked fairly impressive since his return to active duty, most recently defeating Michael Craven on the last Storm.” Kibagami reaches ringside and slides into the squared circle under the bottom rope. He quickly pops to the second turnbuckle in the upper left hand corner and assumes a crucifix pose to pop the crowd louder. The houselights shift to normal and the music fades to be quickly replaced by the sound of popping fireworks from the rafters and Black Sabbath’s “Snowblind” over the pa. “And his opponent,” Funyon shouts to be heard over the screaming crowd. A blue spotlight shines down on the entrance stage and snow-esque flakes flicker down from above. “from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296 pounds, he is the Velvet Hammer and he is here tonight to wrestle, FRRRRRROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSST!” The frozen behemoth appears from behind the curtain at the sound of his name, chewing on a Frost brand cigar. Stevens: “Frost had been in a deep fit of depression since the losing to Tom Flesher at Battleground, but with the help of Longdogger Pete it looks like Frost has broken out of that funk.” Riley: “Hello McFly, LDP and Frost lost. They lost to Wild and Dangerous for Christ’s sake. How is that supposed to turn anybody’s career around? Frost should have stayed in Iceland playing ‘Don’t Break the Ice’ with the polar bears if he’s going to wind up on his own job train at the hands of those two bozos.” Frost hits the apron and steps over the ropes into the ring. Funyon exits and referee Sexton Hardcastle quickly pats down both men. Frost flicks his stogie to the outside with little fanfare. DING DING DING Riley: “And we’re on like Donky Kong! Both circling each other, looking for an opening or trying to remember the segments of ‘Wrestling for Dummies’ they were reading in the back, you decide.” Frost, wanting to show the aggression he’s regained, charges to throw a right jab. Silent goes to dodge, but he’s not as fast as he used to be and takes a glancing blow to the side of the head. He stumbles to the side and Frost drives him into the lower left corner with a series of jabs and hooks. Hardcastle calls for Frost to make a clean break, but Kibagami grabs the back of Frost’s head and spins him around into the corner to take the advantage with three sharp knee strikes. With the air knocked out of him, Nathaniel takes Frost by the wrist and whips him toward the far corner. Frost uses his slight size advantage to muscle a reversal and Kibagami flies into the turnbuckles chest first! Nathaniel stumbles backwards and Frost deftly catches him with an inverted facelock. Kibagami reaches up to put his hands on Frost’s shoulders for leverage and spins out of the hold with his head under Frost’s chin. He swiftly adjusts to grab the back of Frost’s head and plummets to the mat with a crunch of tender chin on hard skull! Stevens: “Kibagami counters into a jawbreaker before Frost can hit the inverted DDT. If Frost was preparing for this encounter by watching old footage of Silent, it will do him little help as Kibagami now employs a more Japanese styled stiff strike offense.” Kibagami points this out for Stevens as he takes his feet to nail Frost in the side with a flurry of short, snapping judo kicks. Riley: “Kibagami has been training under Thoth, but Frost was the guy who won the ICTV title off of Thoth and sent him packing out of the SWF. Frost might not have faced Kibs before, but he knows what he’s bringing to the table.” Frost grunts from the kicks as he rolls into the ropes. Kibagami goes to follow, but Hardcastle gets in between and forces Kibagami back. Frost pulls himself up by the second rope and tries to hide the burning in his side as he marches toward his foe. Stevens: “Look at the fire in those eyes, Bobby. LDP did what he promised to do. Frost has the eye of the tiger back.” Riley: (sarcastically) “Remind me to send Pete a Christmas card.” Kibagami pushes past Hardcastle to meet Frost with a palm strike. Frost head fakes to avoid it and grabs the arm to flip Nathaniel with a rare arm drag. Kibagami lands flat and Frost segues into an armbar, but Nathaniel is already working his legs underneath himself and starting to stand. Stevens: “You know, even though they didn’t defeat Wild and Dangerous, LDP and Frost should still be in line for a tag title shot. All King said was that Frost had to look good and he certainly accomplished that on Storm and is doing the same here tonight.” Riley: “Hey more cannon fodder for Justice and Rule to dispatch of so they don’t have to wrestle themselves for some competition, I have no problem with that.” Now both on their feet, Frost tries to hold Nathan in place with the armbar, but Kibagami uses the hold as a pivot to work three slicing judo kicks to the gut. Frost releases his armbar and bends over holding his stomach. Kibagami deftly steps into Frost with a front facelock. He kicks his feet out for that extra oomph and throws his weight back to impale the crown of Frost’s skull into the mat! Stevens: “A nice big move from Kibagami early with his own personal brand of DDT. He’s trying for the cover!” ONE TWO Frost lifts a shoulder and kicks his legs just as Hardcastle’s hand starts down for three. Riley: “Kibagami is a lot stronger and bulkier than he used to be *cough-steroids-cough*, but he can’t hope to knock Frost out with a low level power move like that. Frost is a power wrestler, Kibs isn’t and that will always give Frost the power game edge.” Some fans groan at the two count, others cheer. Regardless, Kibagami stays focused as he pulls Frost up by the sides of his head. He keeps the big man stunned with a shotei strike and then takes a wristlock for an Irish whip. Frost reverses once more to send Nathan for the ride and extends his right arm for a clothesline. Kibagami ducks under and pulls up on his run as he gets behind Frost. He twists to the side in firing out his leg for a Yakuza kick to the back. However, Frost turns around just in time to catch the leg! Knowing an enzuiguiri is wholly possible from this position he quickly chucks the foot to the right to spin Nathaniel around 360 degrees. Frost rotates as well in the direction he tossed the leg and comes around to take the former Silent’s head off with a spinning lariat! Frost drops to his knees from the power of the shot with Nathaniel flipping head over heels above him! Stevens: “Hell Freezes Over! Will it be enough to squeak out the duke?” ONE TWO Kibagami kicks out with authority and Frost rises to his knees. Riley: “Hell would have frozen over if Frost got the win off of that weak ass shot.” Nathan goes to sit up and Frost flattens him with a hard right hand to the kisser. Kibagami puts both hands to his busted mouth and rolls toward the ropes. Riley: “And ‘squeak out the duke?’ Sounds like you’re taking a Nixon.” Stevens: “A Nixon?” Riley: “Yeah, you know, a Nixon, a dump, a number two, dropping the kids off at the pool.” Kibagami climbs up the ropes like the rungs of a ladder. Frost stalks from behind to collar him with an inverted facelock and tugs him off the cords. Nathan wiggles to free himself, but Frost has the move fastened tighter than last time to prevent a second jawbreaker. Frost sways to his left then swings all the way to his right to flip Kibagami up and around his body. Frost lets go, making sure to have the back of Nathan’s neck angled just right to ricochet off the mat with a wet smack! Stevens: “Rock ‘n Roll the Dice! Along with that massive lariat, Frost looks like he’s settled on working on Kibagami’s neck.” Riley: “Neck injuries have caused Kibagami to retire in the past and has really sapped his formerly famous threshold for pain. It’s a smart strategy by Frost as he has a lot of moves that work the neck in his arsenal. Hey, Frost is doing something SMART, maybe he is reverting to his old form.” Kibagami sits up, his head swiveling loose on his neck. Frost towers behind Nathan with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to stand. The fans are split fifty-fifty on who they’re rooting for, but all seem inclined to witness a solid bout. Kibagami staggers to his feet, but is wrapped in a front facelock before standing fully. Frost twists his adversary up and around as if he was going for a neckbreaker, but then doesn’t snap the move off. Instead he leans forward with his arm barred tight across Nathan’s throat. Frost’s nose is nearly grazing the canvas while Kibagami kicks and gags, fighting to free himself of the hanging body vice. Stevens: “Holding true to what we pointed out, the Icelandic Backbreaker directly works the neck area.” Riley: “If it doesn’t earn the submission, it’s a fine setup for one big move to squeak out the duke. (snickers)” Frost ratchets down on the hold and jumps in place to add more punishment. Kibagami flops around on the Icelander’s back and Hardcastle asks for the submission. Nathan gurgles a “no,” but the light is fading rapidly from his eyes. The fans cheer; some pushing Frost on, others wanting Nathan to the make the break. Regardless, the Continental Airlines Arena is awash in noise. Stevens: “Silent has lost a lot of agility, but his legs are still very flexible thanks to his heavily kick based move set. He might be able to flip over Frost here and out of the backbreaker.” Riley: “No dice after that Rock ‘n Roll the Dice. The neck took some quick damage and Frost has him vice gripped tight. If you’re not getting any air, you’re not going to be that athletic, nor is your brain going to be functioning right.” Stevens: “So is that your problem?” Kibagami sinks limp as a rag doll on Frost’s back and Hardcastle raises the man’s right hand to test to see if he is out. It falls dead. Sexton holds up one finger then hoists the arm again. It drops. The crowd stirs a little more now as Hardcastle takes the wrist one final time. Stevens: “If it goes down, it’s all over for Nathaniel Kibagami and Frost gains a much needed victory!” Frost grunts as he strains on the neck vice. Sexton picks the arm up straight and lets go. It sinks…sinks…sinks…HOLDS STEADY! Riley: “Oh Christ, I thought I could grab a bathroom break before the next match.” Stevens: “Kibagami is fighting back! Both these superstars look in for a long night now!” The whole crowd roars for the perseverance of Kibagami. He lifts the arm up higher and his eyes flutter open, a second wind picking up. Frost feels Nathan squirming more on his back and straightens up while spinning around in a tight circle. One…two…three…four…five revolutions! Frost stops cold and releases his arm to send Kibagami sailing through the air with a twist; his body sprawled out! Nathan crashes down on the far side of the ring in a mangled heap! Frost takes a step toward Kibagami’s body and leaps into the air. He sits out and twirls to hover over Nathan’s prone form and slams down with a legdrop! Stevens: “That was a hell of a modified airplane spin Frost landed! I say that’s goodnight, Irene!” ONE! TWO! THRE- Stevens: “Foot on the ropes! I can’t believe it! Kibagami was running on nothing, but pure instinct there!” Riley: “A good wrestler always knows where the ropes are. I wonder who Kibs has been talking to.” Frost snorts slightly disgusted and drags Nathan away from the ropes by his tights and hooks the leg for a second cover. ONE! TWO! THRE- Stevens: “Kick out! Frost gave Nathan too much time to rest in between pinfalls.” Riley: “Not that having a 300 pound man lying on top of you is a picnic.” The audience applauds for the match continuing. Frost gives the ref a nasty look, but doesn’t say a word as he drags Kibagami up by the sides of his head. Stevens: “You would know.” Riley: “Stop saying those things!” Frost clamps on a facelock and grabs a handful of tights while throwing Nathan’s arm over his neck. Stevens: “It looks like Frost is going for a suplex here, possibly even a brainbu…NO!” Frost hoists Kibagami a few feet off the mat, but Nathan drops his center of gravity and regains his feet! He pivots out of the facelock and behind Frost looking to score a waistlock. Frost feels the arms encircling his middle and runs out of the hold. Nathan goes with the momentum and pushes Frost into the ropes with both arms in his back. Frost turns to take the cords in the back and comes off, swishing his arm for a sloppy clothesline. Nathan is already in motion and ducks under the arm as he goes for the ropes. Frost turns as Kibagami dives while sitting out for a basement dropkick to the knee! Frost hunches over to put a hand on his knee while Nathan lands on his back and brings his legs up, almost to put himself in a ball. Nathan arches his back and vaults up with a flip that clips Frost in the chin with both feet! Frost stumbles back and lands on his rear in the ropes! The crowd pops as Nathan tries to regain his balance from his unorthodox move, a hand on his still burning throat. He slumps to one knee in the opposite set of ropes. Stevens: “Breathtaking sequence by Kibagami! Frost gave him a little time to regain his energy and that he did, using those flexible legs I mentioned to good advantage.” Riley: “Both men down, and hopefully out. Frost had this won, but he had to get flashy for the humanoids with the airplane spin and then lost track of his game plan.” Hardcastle stands hunkered over with both hands on his knees, not counting, as he knows both men are going to rise. Nathan clears his throat with a rough, wheezing cough and pushes up to his feet. Frost still sits in the ropes; his eyes glazed as if watching cartoon birdies circle the melon on top of his neck. Stevens: “Kibagami stalks toward Frost, looking to take this match over. He’s very dazed from the blows he’s taken on the chin and this is the time to strike.” Riley: “And Frost was a boxer too. This is like watching Glass Joe vs. Gabby Jay.” Kibagami pulls Frost up by the shoulders and places his head under the man’s right armpit as he drags him to the center of the ring. Nathan takes Frost’s loose left arm and places it between his legs, clutching it with his far hand. He reaches across Frost’s broad chest with his near arm and snakes it up to secure the head. Kibagami groans with effort as he bends his knees for leverage and hoist Frost up and quickly over to rattle the ring with a quaking splat! Stevens: “Exploder suplex! How about that for a big time power move, Bobby?” Riley: “Needlessly complicated.” (examines his cuticles bored) Stevens: “Nathan is looking to return some of that neck work, towing Frost up and getting behind him for a waistlock.” The crowd watches with building excitement. Frost appears out on his feet, doing little about the arms locked around his waist. Kibagami bends his knees and moans again, determined to utilize his power-wrestling base. With a curdling scream, Nathan flings Frost over his body at a sharp angle, striking the neck into the mat with pinpoint precision! Stevens: “DANGEROUS GERMAN SUPLEX! Nathan bridges and this one is over!” ONE! TWO! THRE- Frost’s body shifts to the left and the fatigued Nathan can hold him aloft no longer. Both men collapse to their side, chests heaving for air, necks screaming in blazing pain. Riley: “If I had a nickel for every time you called a match over early, I’d have $57.65.” Stevens: “Frost needs to dig deep to come back. Kibagami needs to dig deep to finish.” Riley: “And I need to dig about six feet to put you away.” Kibagami inches up the mat to have his legs near Frost’s head. He throws his legs around the man, crossing them at the knees and squeezing for all he’s worth. Stevens: “Triangle choke hold by Kibagami, if this doesn’t get the submission I’ve got to think that with the neck work of his own and the power he’s displayed, Nathan has aspirations of hitting the Rough Redemption.” Riley: “And what a rough redemption to prominence that would be for Frost.” The fans stomp and holler in support of the two grapplers. Frost’s mind flashes alert from the pressure of the legs coiled tight around his throat. He knows he can’t stay in this move long, nor is he in position to reach the ropes. Like a lot of other times, Frost must rely on his brute strength to save his neck…literally. With his arms and legs free, Frost pushes off the mat with his biceps bulging and rocks to his knees. Stevens: “Incredible! Frost is powering out of the triangle choke with a six foot five 268 pound man dangling off his back.” Riley: “Not the first time we’ve seen Frost do the impossible when the mood strikes him! *cough-roid-rage-cough*” With his body trembling and the fans roaring in awe, Frost shakily stands with Nathan’s legs still locked around him. Kibagami unwraps his legs and puts his hands on Frost’s head to steady himself. He kicks back and lands with his feet flat, letting Frost rise to his full height. Nathan allows his left hand to drift to Frost’s shoulder to spin him around while still off balanced. He holds out his right arm with a slight crook and hammers it forward to clothesline Frost in the Adam’s apple and down to the canvas! Stevens: “Standing Burning Lariat! Kibagami new when to break the hold and hits a lariat worthy of the Velvet Hammer himself.” Sensing that he has not a moment lose, Nathaniel reaches down to pull Frost up by the sides of his head. He turns back to back with Frost and adjusts to grapevine the Icelander’s arms in his own for a crucifix. Stevens: “This crowd is going bonkers, knowing what’s coming!” Riley: “The Rough Redemption sounds like a screwy Catholic themed porno, but it will get the win.” Kibagami leans up and stretches to lift Frost off the canvas. As his feet go to leave the earth, Frost kicks off and throws his weight upwards to flip over Kibagami in an eye-popping feat! Frost takes control of the linked arms and pushes Nathan’s together over his now bent over back to move into a double underhook. Stevens: “What a miraculous counter! Frost segues from the Rough Redemption into the Early Winter!” Frost hoists Kibagami up against his chest to the cheers of the fans. Exhausted to a breaking point, Frost doesn’t snap off the powerbomb with his usual zeal. This allows Kibagami to link his ankles together behind Frost’s neck and wiggle out of the underhook. With his hands on the mat for leverage, Nathan yanks forward to sloppily, but effectively flip Frost over his body to land on his head with a crunch! Stevens: “Good God! What agility from these two men like we’ve never seen before. Both move well for their size, but this is insane. Kibagami just hit a hurricanrana!” Riley: “Someone call Stephen Hawkins, I think we’re ripping a hole in the space time continuum.” Kibagami claws across the mat and tosses a limp arm over Frost’s chest. The audience holds their breath as Sexton’s hand slaps the mat! ONE! TWO! THRE- Stevens: “Shoulder up! Both men are dead, but neither will stay down!” The audience roar is deafening for the ex-Silent climbing wearily to his feet. He realizes that power is not going to get it done and he must rely on his agility and legs. Frost trips to his feet and Kibagami is there to greet him with a shotei to the bridge of the nose! Frost stumbles back and Nathan presses forward with a second shotei to pin Frost stunned into the upper right corner. The crowd noise rises in pitch again as they sense what is coming now! Stevens: “It’s the Flesh Into Gear!” Riley: “A porno about cycling!” Nathan springs to the nearby second rope and grips it with both hands. His feet fight for balance, his body as drained as his opponent’s. He bounces in place twice, then pauses with his brain buzzing from shockwaves in his neck from the jarring motion of the ropes, he skips once more and flies off with his foot slashing in a gamengiri! Frost, having time to recover, tucks his body close the turnbuckles and jerks his head back as far as he can! Nathan misses by millimeters! Frost grabs the leg as it rotates by him on the miss and Kibagami flips over! Frost takes the other leg as it rises to meet him! Frost steps out of the corner with Nathan precariously held aloft in the wheelbarrow hold before finally letting gravity take over and smash Kibagami’s face into the canvas! Stevens: “Frost counters into the Snowblind! It looks like Nathan was favoring the neck and it slowed up the Flesh Into Gear! This is unbelievable!” Riley: “Hey, size doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to move it, or so the ladies say.” The fans are on their feet from the mad spate of moves and cheer Frost taking his feet with gusto while dragging Kibagami up with him by the arm. Frost holds the left arm out to the side, exposing the ribs and steps into Nathan with one of his infamous hands of stone to the chest! Stevens: “Touch of Frost! Touch of Frost! This usually leads to the Early Winter…no…Frost is picking Kibagami up in a body slam position!” Riley: “Looks like the Snow Plow, which works the neck more directly than the Early Winter.” Frost torques Kibagami out to the side with his head pointing straight down. Frost jumps into the air for that extra whump and plunges to drill Kibagami’s head into the mat with the smack of bone and crunch of cartilege! His neck appears to telescope into his skull and Nathan flips over comatose to his back. Frost rolls over to all fours, resting for a second he knows he cannot spare, then dives onto Kibagami, hooking the leg. ONE! TWO! THREE! Kibagami’s body flinches on impulse, but it’s too late. DING DING DING The arena becomes a sea of noise! Hardcastle checks on both men as Funyon announces, “Here is your winner by pinfall, FRRRRROOOOOOSSSSSST!” Stevens: “What a match! I never would have thought I would have saw something like this out of these two! The fortitude to win and ability to counter and adapt was dazzling!” Riley: “The fact that these two stiffs didn’t put on a dud or kill the other one impresses me. The neck was the focal point for both and Kibagami’s famously weak neck bit him harder in the end for Frost to polish off.” The crowd screams the names of both men in appreciation. Frost lies propped up on is elbows on the mat, talking to the stirring Nathan Kibagami. They help each other up to worn out feet and raise their arms as one to pop the crowd even louder. The camera focuses on the two sweaty, exhausted men in fading to break. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 Stevens: "We're back, in the Continental Airlines Arena, New Jersey!" Riley: "You know Stevens, they all say New Jersey sucks, so why isn't it sucking me?" Stevens: "You've been saying that all through the break, and I keep saying that I don't know and don't want to." Riley: "Whatever, you're making this good paying people wait longer to see these three guys take each other out. Something that will only leave people like the great Magnificent Seven to benefit." Funyon: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match will be a Three Way Elimination Match for the SWF Hardcore Gamers' Championship!" WE WANT HARDCORE! WE WANT HARDCORE! WE WANT HARDCORE! Funyon: "Introducing first, Miami Florida, at two hundred and seventy seven pounds ... LONGDOGGER PETE!" OH, MY GOD! INCREDIBLE SUPERSTAR! Booms out the PA. White pyro lights up the stage and fills it with smoke as LDP slowly steps out to the tune of Baseline. Shedding his jacket, Longdogger strides down the ramp, tag a few hands of his fans on his way to the ring. Sliding into the ring, he raises his arms to the cheering fans, before shaking himself down for the match. Funyon: "And his opponent, from Las Vegas Nevada, at two hundred and ten pounds ... JOHNNY 'THE BARRACUDA' DANGEROUS!" JOHNNY DANGEROUS! Comes a female voice from the Sound System. Mission Impossible 2 rocks out across the arena, as lights circle around the ramp and the ring, He walks out slowly, under the images of his spy stunts on the SmarkTron. Moving down the ramp, Johnny winks and waves to the calling female fans. Jumping onto the apron and climbing the turnbuckles, Dangerous waves on the fans, before stepping down into the ring. Funyon: "Their opponent, from Birmingham England, at two hundred and fifty four pounds ... The SWF HCG Champion ... DACE NIGHT!" The arena lights drop down, and a cloud of black smoke billows from the entrance way. Fuel For Hatred thrashes into life as Dace steps you into the red and purple lights. HGC Title in one hand, he quickly sprints down the ramp. Heading around the ring, he hands the belt over before slipping into the ring. Flicking a spike of hair back from his scarred face, he waits for the bell. Stevens: "The One Man Wrecking Crew has the experience of a veteran, and skill of a former HGC Champ, Johnny has his speed has flash, while Dace has his sheer power and violence. I think all three men are going to have to dig deep into their skills to walk away with the title from this one." Referee Long calls for the bell and steps back out of the way of all three man. DING, DING, DING! Dangerous dives into the attack, crashing into LDP's chest with a Flying Side Kick, staggering the One Man Wrecking Crew back into the ropes before whipping him across the ring right into a Lariat from Dace. Dangerous snaps around and drops a leg across Pete's chest as Dace drops an elbow. Stevens: "Looks like Dace and Johnny still remember some old team work." Riley: "Please, that wont last." Dace hauls Longdogger up and throws him into the ropes, Dangerous follows behind Pete and leaps up, dropping him to the mate with a Bulldog. Instead of facing off, the Super Spy slides out of the ring and heads under the ring apron, then starts pulling out chairs and tables. Dace hauls Doggah to his feet, and hammers away with a series of Knife Edge Chops. SMACK! WOOOOOO! SMACK! WOOOOOO! SMACK! WOOOOOO! Night fires Longdogger into the ropes. Longdogger comes charging back into the waiting arms of Horrorcore, getting thrown up for a Gorilla Press, but shifts his weight and drops down behind Dace. Locking his arms, he clamps on a Rear Waistlock and snaps the Hardcore Champ to the mat with a German Suplex. Stevens: "The current and former Hardcore Champs trading blows. LDP gets the advantage with a German Suplex." Riley: "What's Dangerous doing on the outside, doesn't he know he's in a match?" The Barracuda pulls out one last item from under the ring.. YYYAAAAAHHHHH! Stevens: "Johnny Dangerous has a Ladder! He's planning to bring a Ladder into play in this Hardcore Match!" Stomping away on the grounded Goth, Longdogger Pete drives his huge boots into the champs chest. Dragging him up by the arm, Pete twists around, wrenching on the arm and snaps a boot into Dace's gut. On the outside, Johnny sets up the Ladder, spreading it out. Sliding two Steel Chairs into the corner of the ring, he slow starts to climb the ladder. Back in the ring, Pete brings his leg up in an arch over head and slams the back of his foot and leg into Dace Night's head, dropping the Champ down to the mat. Picking Dace back up, the Miami Menace wraps his arms around the Brummie's waist lifting him top drop him onto an extended knee. CRACK! Stevens: "Doggah scores a Scissors Kick. Then he goes for an Inverted Atomic Drop, but gets cut off by an Elbow Smash from Dace." Riley: "Come on, when are the going to start making each other bleed?" On top of the Ladder, Johnny Dangerous dives off, down towards the ring as the fans burst into a roar. LDP and Dace turn around, just to see a Secret Agent missile crashing into them. YYYYYYYYAAAAAHHHHHH! Stevens: "Cross Body from the Ladder! Dangerous just took out the two bigger men with a Cross Body from the Ladder!" LET'S GET DANGEROUS! LET'S GET DANGEROUS! Long drops in as Johnny keeps both men cover. Riley: "Ohh, three men ontop of each other. I like it." ......ONE! ......TWO! Kickout! The combined force of Pete and Dace kicking out almost throws Johnny out of the ring. Rolling along the mat, Johnny picks up a Steel Chair from the corner. Quickly climbing to the top rope, the Super Spy dives off wit the Chair held in the crock of his arm. CRACK! Stevens: "Springboard Chairline!" Plastering Longdogger in the face with the, sending him straight back down the mat. Scrambling to his feet, Dangerous pulls LDP's body up, doubling him over with a sharp kick to the gut. Hooking his leg across the back of Doggah's neck, Johnny prepares to drive him face first into the chair. Johnny jumps, but Pete stands up, forcing Johnny to flip out and land on his feet behind the former Champ. Lunging across the ring, Dace rushes at Pete... Stevens: "Yakuza Kick!" RRRRRAAAAAHHHHHH! Riley: "He hit Dangerous, LDP showed wiles and moved out of the way!" CRACK! Longdogger drives a Chair into Night's head as he turns round. CRACK! Following with another huge Chair Shot. The Goth drops to the mat, as Pete drops the Chair over his face. Taking a step back, Longdogger Leg Drops the Chair into Night's face. Rolling back into a cover, Pete hooks a leg as Referee Long slides into place. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! ......1/2! Kickout! Sliding under the ropes to the outside, the Doggah hauls up a table and climbs back into the ring with it. Kicking it's legs out, he sets it up by the ropes on one side of the ring. LDP turns around looking for someone to drop through the table, but instead finds a Barracuda foot driven into his jaw. SMACK! Stevens: "Johnny out of nowhere with a Johnny Kick! Taking Pete down." Longdogger hits the mat as Dangerous sprints up the turnbuckles. Standing on the top rope to the cheering of the fans, the Secret Agent leaps off, sailing through then air and drives his elbow down into the chest of LDP. YYYYYYYYAAAAAHHHHH! Throwing his fist into the air, Johnny counts along with the crowd. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! ......1/2! ......3/4! Kickout! OOOOOOHHHHHH! Reaching backwards and grabbing the ropes, Dangerous throws himself into the air, lunching his legs forwards with a brutal Dropkick into the side of LDP's head, but even as he starts to fall back onto the turnbuckles, Dace surges to his feet, catching Johnny's legs, swinging him around and out of the corner. Leaning his body weight forwards, the Barracuda handsprings backwards out of Night's grasp to avoid being Powerbombed. Dace follows Dangerous' backflip by slamming a knee into his midsection then spikes him down to the mat with a DDT. Stevens: "Big Elbow Drop from Johnny Dangerous, then a Rope Assisted Spring Dropkick, but Dace cuts him off with a Powerbomb attempt, Johnny reverse but ends up being DDTed." Riley: "It looks like Pete and Dace are struggling to keep up with Dangerous at this stage in the match. I think they might need to start some double teams if they want to last this one out." Rather than pinning the Super Spy, the Champ grabs Longdogger and pulls him over Johnny in a cover. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! Kickout! Riley: "What the hell was the point of that one? Someone please tell me." Stevens: "I guess Dace doesn't want to have to pin his former team mate, so he's making LDP do it." Now Dace takes a turn to drop out of the ring to the outside. As Doggah lays into Dangerous with a flurry of overhead punches, Dace pulls up a Table and balances it between the ring apron and the barrier. Then he takes the Ladder and props it between the barrier and apron on the edge of the ring. Riley: "What's Dace setting up now? More of his twisted games. Looks like the Road of Pa.... I mean..." A Big Boot drops Dangerous to the mat as Pete grabs hold of one of his legs. Turning around and pulling on the Spy's legs, Pete drops back, crossing the legs over into a Figure Four. LDP! LDP! LDP! LDP! Thrashing in pain, Johnny tries to roll or twist any way he can to break free of the hold biting into his legs. Night slides back into the ring and picks up a chair before he heads over to the other two men. Stevens: "He's got a chair, who's is Dace going to hit with it?" Dropping the chair beside both men, Dace steps over Pete's chest and pulls Longdogger's head forwards, wrapping his arms in a vice like grip around his neck to form a Front Necklock. Immediately kicking his legs free of the Figure Four, Doggah turns all his attention to trying to break free of the hold. Riley: "Blatant favouritism from the Champ there, something you just can't do when you hold a title Belt." Rubbing his leg down and trying to force some life back into it, Dangerous crawls to the ropes and staggers up onto his feet. Dace Night pushes himself up with his legs, dragging Doggah up by his neck. CRACK! Releasing his grip just long enough to plough his elbow into LDP's head, Dace pulls him into a Stand Headscissors. Wrapping his arms around the bigger man's waist, Horrorcore pulls up all two hundred seventy pounds plus on the One Man Wrecking Crew onto his shoulders. Sending Pete plummeting to the mat with ring shaking force, Dace leans forwards, forcing Pete's legs over his head for a cover. ......ONE! ......TWO! NNNOOOOOOO! Racing across the ring, Dangerous leaps up and Sunset Flips Dace through into a cover of his own. ......ONE! ......TWO! .....1/4! .....1/2! Kickout! RRRRRAAAAAHHHHH! Stevens: "Powerbomb and a cover! No Johnny breaks it up with a Sunset Flip, and scores a two count." Riley: "Bodies and things flying everywhere, this is what I like to see. This is what a pay to see." Stevens: "Riley, let's not talk about your Friday nights live on air ok." Dace rolls to his feet as the two former partners stare each other down for a few moments before leaping at each other. The Secret Agent ducks under a Lariat and fires off stiff kicks to the ribs. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! A Spinning Backfist knocks Night reeling as Dangerous ducks in under his guard. Grabbing hold of an arm and a leg Johnny throws Dace over head, spinning him down to the mat. YYYYYAAAAAHHHHH! Stevens: "MI Slam! Johnny Dangerous just nailed Dace with his finisher!" Stumbling backwards as he steps up, Dangerous gets clobbered in the back of the head by a huge Right Hand from Longdogger Pete. Spinning Dangerous around, the One Man Wrecking Crew grabs him by the throat and groin. Riley: "Musclehead Slam and what muscles LDP must have in that other head of his." Stevens: "Bobby fucking stop that now!" Turning on his heel, LDP sends Johnny Dangerous crashing down on the other side of the ring. SMASH! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Stevens: "MUSCLEHEAD SLAM THOUGH THE TABLE! He sent Dangerous through the table!" Dropping over the remains of the table and of Johnny Dangerous, Doggah makes a cover. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! ......1/2! ......3/4! ......9/10! .....THREE! Funyon: "Johnny Dangerous has been Eliminated from this match!" Stevens: "Longdogger took out Dangerous, and he's one step closer to reclaiming his former Hardcore Gamers' Championship!" Not wasting the chance to pin Dace while he's still down, Longdogger rushes over and covers Horrorcore. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! ......1/2! ......3/4! ......9/10! Kickout! YYYYYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Stevens: "No! Dace managed to sneak a shoulder up. He just hand long enough to rest from the MI Slam on the chair." Riley: "Come on Pete, you know you want to make him bleed before you win the title." Pointing out across the ring, LDP motions towards the Table and the Ladder than balance between the barrier and ring apron. Pulling an barely moving Dace Night behind him, Longdogger steps out onto the apron and drags Dace behind him. Standing Dace to his feet, Doggah wraps a hand around his throat, grabbing Horrorcore's tights for leverage, LDP signals for the end of the match. Riley: "That's it Pete, Chokeslam, choke the bastard chicken." Stevens: "Riley, god man it man, we're live on air, stop saying that stuff." OOOOOHHHHHH! A desperation kick lashes out and catches Longdogger in the midsection. Slipping from the apron, Dace takes hold of LDP by his tights and sends him flying face first into the ladder. CRACK! Stevens: "Dace Night avoids a Chokeslam on that set up Ladder by only a second." Both men collapse on the floor, gasping for breath, trying to recover. Stevens: "Both men are down, now it's a race for who can get back to their feet first and take advantage in the match." GET THE F UP! GET THE F UP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! GET THE F UP! GET THE F UP! The slow crawl onto their feet beings as the One Man Wrecking Crew and the Goth being to force themselves to their feet. Grabbing hold of the security barrier, both men pushes their bodies up and over the barrier into the crowd. YYYYYAAAAHHHHH! Stevens: "They've hit the crowd!" As a ring of security guards forms around the two wrestlers to separate them from the fans, Horrorcore and Doggah exchange blows as the surrounding fans cheer on. CRACK! SMACK! CRACK! SMACK! CRACK! SMACK! Stevens: "Exchanging Right Hands and Elbow Smashes!" Under the rain of blows, the two men force each other back towards the security barrier. Slipping in a Low Kick Longdogger throws Night off balance. Taking hold of head, Pete starts to slam in forwards into the barrier. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Throwing Dace over the barrier and back out onto the floor, LDP climbs up onto the barrier then steps out onto the Table, still suspended between the ring and the barrier. Rising his fist in the air, fingers in an L sharp, Doggah listens to the call of the crowds as he leaps off the Table. YYYYAAAAAHHHHHH! Stevens: "Longdogger with a Legdrop from the Table to the floor!" Riley: "Oh just get this over with already please, someone." Long slips under the ladder to count the pin fall. ......ONE! .......TWO! .......1/4! ......1/2! .....Kickout! RRRRAAAAAAHHHHHH! Moving onto the next plan, the One Man Wrecking Crew pulls the Hardcore Champ to his feet and scoops him up. Turning around, Pete slams Dace back first into the Ladder. CLANK! Pointing to the top rope, LDP climbs onto the apron and starts to climb the turbuckles. Stevens: "Longdogger is going to fly again, and it looks like he's going to try to put Dace through that ladder!" The fans call on as Longdogger Pete stands on the top turnbuckle, looking down at the prone figure of Dace Night, laid out on the balanced Ladder. Taking a breath, he takes a jump and dives down. CLANK! CRACK! RRRRRAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Stevens: "LDP eats the Ladder! Dace moved at the last second!" Smashes himself into the Ladder as Night rolls out of the way of the incoming Elbow Drop from up top. Riley: "Oh sweet pain, such a cruel and wonderful thing it is to us all." The Ladder is buckled and bent, but not completely broken, as the wreckage of Doggah's body lays in the middle of it. Climbing back to his feet, the Brummie steps up onto the apron and pulls Pete up onto the apron as well. Pulling the dazed and groggy LDP to his feet, Dace leads him across the apron to the other end where the table is positioned. Pointing down at the table, Dace cuts a hand across his throat, signalling for the end. Stevens: "Dace is gonna put Longdogger through that Table! If he does it, that match will be over!" Years of experience shin out under the dazed cloud in Pete's mind, even over his clean fighting, as he sends a boot snaking out and jams it home into Night's groin. OOOOOHHHHHHHH! Standing up, he slings Dace over his shoulders, LDP tries to stand all the way up to his full height, but he can't make it, so he topples backwards, off the apron and down to the floor, crushing Dace under him with a Samoan Drop. HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Stevens: "LDP with a Samoan Drop from the apron to the floor! Oh my god!" Riley: "Crushing, crushing move. Do it again, do it again, I'll pay you!" Unable to move after landing on the hard floor, Doggah just lays their, trapping Dace with his frame. Long checks the shoulder quickly before starting the count. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! ......1/2! ......3/4! ......9/10! ......TH-NNNNOOOOOOOO! YYYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Stevens: "Dace kicks out again! He's not going down without one long fight!" Riley: "Oh, more pain. These guys really now how to take it like men." Stevens: "I'm sure you know how to take a lot of men Riley." Longdogger Pete rise up to his feet yet again. Shaking his head slowly, still clearing it from recent impacts. Turning around, he looks on in half amazed as Dace struggles up to his feet, slow but steady and standing firm as anyone could be expected to. Stevens: "Dace is up, he's up!" Riley: "Good, saves Pete time before he puts him right back down again." Looking at the Table to his side , LDP looks back at the Goth. Just like with Dangerous earlier in the match, Pete locks one hand around his throat and the other around his groin. Bending his knees and pushing upwards, Longdogger Pete Presses the Hardcore Gamers' Champion overhead. Riley: "Here is comes Mark, the second Musclehead Slam of the match, and then the end of the match." Doggah turns, but as he does so feels the fatal kicking of feet overhead as Dace fights for his body and his Title. Kicking free and dropping to the floor before Pete, Dace unleashed a well practised Elbow Smash to the back of his head. CRACK! Locking his arms in a Rear Waistlock, Night makes an almost inhuman cry as he lunches LDP backwards with a German Suplex onto the floor. RRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! Stevens: "German Suplex onto the floor! This could be it right here and now!" Riley: "I bet Pete wishes he'd stayed retired right about now, you think Mark?" Even as Dace pulls himself back to his feet, he looks at Doggah's battered body and at the Table, still set up form use. Then he looks down at the floor, then up into the rafters, then back down a the floor? Stevens: "What is Dace doing? What is he thinking of?" Riley: "I don't care, just pin him, just get this one over with!" Stooping down, Horrorcore grabs a corner of the protective floor mats and starts to peel it back, to exposed the concrete under it. AAAAHHHHHHH! Stevens: "He's pulling back the protective matting! He's going to drop LDP onto the goddamn concrete floor!" Riley: "Finally!" Taking hold of Doggah, Night leans back and unloaded an elbow right between his eyes. CRACK! Pulling the One Man Wrecking Crew into a Standing Headscissors, the Brummie locks his arms around his waist, and looks at the floor in front of his, as he spreads his feet out, ready to drill Pete into some concrete. Stevens: "Oh my god! Don't do it Dace! Don't do it!" Riley: "Kill him! Come on, one of these two needs to die right now!" Longdogger Pete is beyond fighting out as Dace picks him up from the mat. Digging down, he manages to get Pete all the way up and over head. Balancing for a second, Dace looks down at the exposed concrete floor infront of him... ...And sends LDP rocketing down towards it with a Powerbomb! SSSMMMMMMAAAACCCKKKKKK! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Stevens: "POWERBOMB ON THE CONCRETE FLOOR!" Dace drops over the motionless Doggah as a shocked Referee Long makes an academic count. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......1/4! ......1/2! ......3/4! ......9/10! ......THRRREEEEEE! DING! DING! DING! Funyon: "Longdogger Pete has been Eliminated from the match! Here is your winner, and still SWF Hardcore Gamers' Champion ... DACE NIIGGGHHHTTT!" Fuel for Hatred screams out across the arena as the HGC Title Belt as passed into the hand of Dace Night. Saluting the cheering hands with the Belt and the Horns, Horrorcore turns to check on the veteran, even as EMTs make their way down to ring side. DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT! Stevens: "Wow, what an ending to this Hardcore Title match, bringing back memories of a few classics from other feds." Riley: "Please, they where from other feds, how can they be classics Mark? I would have liked to have seen all three of these guys die, but oh well, I think we came close enough really." The EMTs place LDP onto a stretcher and wheel him from ring side, even as he starts to stir, and raises a hand in the air. LDP! LDP! LDP! LDP! Riley: "Can't these people just make up their minds and stick to one chant please?" Slinging the Belt over his shoulder, Dace makes his way up the ramp as the image fades out to adverts. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 This is S....W.....F LOCKDOWN!" The bellowing of 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens is the first thing people hear as Lockdown comes back on the air. As always when coming back from commercial, the camera pans around the crowd. "Taamo 3:16 says I'm Superior!" seems to be the biggest and best sign of the show, while other smaller ones grace us, like "JD is Hardcore!" and "Unholy Trinity > Magnificent Seven!" As we pan around and down to the announce table, we see two more signs - one from a busty blonde that says "Smoko Time, Brian~!" and another, with the faces of Janus, Dace, and Crow on it, reading "The REAL Unholy Trinity". And finally, we're graced with the faces of 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley. "Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, ladies and gentlemen! We've just witnessed a new level of brutality with Dace Night defending his title against not only his old friend Johnny Dangerous, but the veteran Longdogger Pete!" "And that match is going to pale in the brutality of what we have coming up!" Riley chortles with glee. "The washed out Jay Dawg against the evil that is Janus!" "Well, JD did suffer a defeat at the hands of Tom Flesher last show...and Janus was last seen playing mind games with Nathaniel Kibagami. Both men have a lot of bottled up rage, but this is a straight singles match, not a hardcore brawl, Riley!" Riley snorts. "Janus will teach JD the meaning of pain!" Before Stevens can offer a proper counter to his compatriot's words, a series of fireworks explode with thunderous BOOMS around the rafters and the ramp, giving us a sparking, almost starry glow as the lights entirely drop out. A moment's silence passes, followed by a familiar and pre-recorded voice roaring out of the speakers. "THIS... IS... MAH... HOUSE!!!" A lyricless version of Rammstein's 'Du Hast' rips through the arena, the heavy beats thundering from the speakers as the Hardcore Maniac steps through the curtains, his head down. Drazon slowly lifts his head as he walks to the top of the ramp, his eyes closed. As if absorbing power from the air itself, he pauses, before lowering his head and walking down the ramp with an unholy looking grin plastered across his face. Sitting next to the announcer's table, Funyon lifts his microphone. "The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall! Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and forty three pounds, hailing from Vancouver B.C! Ladies and gentlemen, he is the HARDCORE MANIAC....JAMIE....'JAY DAWG' DRAAAAAZOOOOOON!" The crowd lets out a roar as JD climbs into the ring, eyes still closed. He cricks his neck from side to side, and crouches slightly, resting his hands on his thighs. After a moment, he straightens up and backs into one of the turnbuckles to await his opponent as the lyricless strains of 'Du Hast' fade out. The lights remain off in the arena, prompting the fans to begin yelling and whooping into the darkness. "And the Hardcore Maniac is now in the ring...though I can't see a damn thing with the lights off, Riley!" "Neither can I, Stevens! But still, Dragon HAS to be hurting after the beating given to him by MY Superior One..." Stevens cocks an eyebrow. "Yours?" Before Riley can successfully cover his obviously gay gaffe, a soft melody begins to play across the arena - and a picture appears on the Smarktron. The picture is of a young man with white hair, and it quickly begins to riddle with cracks. Blue pyrotechnics begin to glitter up from the sides of the ramp, and a spotlight locks onto the entrance curtain as the voice of Burton C Bell echoes across the arena. "Consumed with memoriiiies... That preceded todaaaaay.... Given a chance to bereaaaave... Life that's slipping AWAAAAAY!" As the heavy riffs boom out of the speakers, the picture on the Smarktron shatters, revealing the face of Janus. It begins to cycle through clips of his most brutal spots as Funyon lifts his microphone to his lips. "And his opponent, hailing from Sydney Australia! He weighs in at three hundred and fifty pounds and is called the Hell Machine....JAAAAAAAAAANUS!" As "Resurrection" continues to boom out of the speakers, the spotlight stays on the entrance ramp, yet no one emerges. In the dark, everyone looks towards the entrance ramp, wondering where Janus could be. Funyon, his job done, sits back down, as all eyes remain focused on the ramp and the only source of light. Nothing happens for several long moments, prompting a small comment from the commentators. Riley sounds wondering. "You... think Janus is late, Stevens?" "It's not like him to miss a match, Riley...so..." Stevens, on the other hand, is contemplative. Movement in the darkness catches Stevens' eye. Before he can comment, the huge dark shape slides into the ring and charges forward. Almost as if operating on sixth sense, Drazon turns his head towards the sound of movement, but is driven back into the turnbuckle with immense force! The impact sets off the pyrotechnics set up for Janus' intro, blue fire exploding out of the turnbuckles right behind Drazon's head! As the light comes back up, the Hardcore Maniac slumps in the corner holding his abdomen, and standing before him with a grim smile....is Janus. "Janus showing his intelligence! He attacked Drazon using the cover of darkness!" Riley cackles. The referee Eddy Long takes one look at the two wrestlers and lifts an arm. *DING DING DING!* "It was a cheap attack, Riley! But the match is underway!" Janus immediately follows his surprise attack by lifting a huge hand and slamming it into JD's ribcage for a chop! The crowd, despite hating him, obligates with the usual "Wooooooo!" for that, and each chop he lays in afterwards. *SMACK* "Wooooo!" *SMACK* "Wooooooo!" After the third chop, Janus grabs Drazon by the arm and stretches said arm out, and delivers a thunderous closed fist to JD's shoulder! The Hardcore Maniac grimaces at the impact, and Eddy Long steps in to tell Janus no closed punches. Drazon immediately takes advantage of this, drawing back his arm and slamming a huge chop into the giant's chest! Janus blinks and staggers from the incredibly stiff blow, and with the area between him and JD open, the Dawg has enough room to unleash a kick....straight into Janus' right knee! The giant stumbles back, and JD steps forward and swings his arm around for a second chop of his own! And a third! "Janus had the early advantage, but it looks like Drazon is taking it to him!" calls Stevens. "Bah! He's lucky Janus isn't fully focused on him!" Riley snorts. JD lifts his hand for a fourth chop, and Janus lifts his hands to block - and the Hardcore Maniac smiles and drops to the ground, swinging his leg around and taking out Janus' right leg with a sweep kick! His balance taken from under him, the giant has no choice but to fall to the mat. JD immediately lifts the giant's right leg into the air and smiles down at the giant - unpleasantly - before beginning to lay stiff toe kicks into the giant's thigh, behind his knee, and his hamstring! On the ground, Janus writhes at the pain shooting through his punished leg, and lifts his other leg, slamming it hard into the Hardcore Maniac's stomach, forcing him to let go! Janus sits up; glaring at Drazon as he slowly rises to his feet, hobbling a little. The Hardcore Maniac just smiles at the giant as he tries to keep balanced, and Janus lunges forward with a lariat! JD ducks and as the giant turns back around, the Hardcore Maniac spins himself around for a murderous Thai roundhouse....that Janus BLOCKS by catching the raised leg! Hopping on one foot, the Hardcore Maniac locks eyes with the Hell Machine, right before Janus spins Drazon around by the leg, hooks his head, and drops him down to the mat with a stiff single-arm DDT! "And this match is getting interesting already! Shades of psychology with Drazon working the leg and Janus apparently working the shoulder!" Stevens murmurs. "Psychology? From JD? Granted, Janus is an eVil genius, but come on. JD? Psychology?" Riley snickers. "Right." "We'll see, Riley." With JD down on the ground, Janus hobbles back to his feet and lumbers for the ropes, bouncing back and flinging himself into the air for a legdrop that would crush Drazon's ribs. The three hundred and fifty pound monster crashes down on bare mat, grimacing in pain, and he looks up just in time for a nice kick to the face by JD, again knocking the giant onto his back! As Drazon lifts Janus' right leg to continue the punishment, however, the giant immediately kicks his massive leg up High, kicking JD right in the heart! For the second time in the night, Janus once more finds his feet as Drazon stumbles back and savours the pain from the giant's hard blows. He charges at the rising giant, only to find himself lifted into the air, twisted around, and planted with a whirl sideslam! Rather than hook the leg, Janus rolls away from the Hardcore Maniac and limps back to his feet again, beginning to smile as well. Drazon tilts his head to get the hair out of his face, still grinning in that sadistic way of his. "Looks like something out of the Twilight Zone.....they're SMILING at each other, Stevens..." 'Grand Slam' nods and shivers. "I can feel the bad vibes from here, Riley." Standing on opposite sides of the ring, the Hell Machine and the Hardcore Maniac continue to stare at each other - Drazon through closed eyelid, Janus' red eyes intent and focused. And then the monster Janus charges across the ring, lifting his bad leg into the air for a big boot to JD's chest...that the Dawg sidesteps, and he spins around, blasting Janus in the chest with a painful looking modified Thai Roundhouse! Clutching his chest and grimacing in pain, Janus stumbles back a little, and Drazon follows it up by ducking behind the giant and cinching on a waistlock, popping his hips and heaving... ...but Janus stays put, huge arms grabbing the ropes! Drazon heaves again, and again, and finding the monster not moving, lets go of the waistlock and steps back to prepare an alternate attack plan. Moving quicker than anyone would have anticipated, Janus spins once the waistlock is off, and floors JD with a brutal standing lariat to the chest! The Hardcore Maniac crashes to the ground at the hard impact, as the Hell Machine limps at the pain in his leg. Reaching down, Janus lifts Drazon up by the arm, and drops down to one knee, cracking JD's spine across his raised knee with a pendulum backbreaker! "Nasty looking pendulum backbreaker from Janus! But he's not going for the pin!" Stevens comments. "I think he's going to teach JD a lesson, then go after that poor schmuck Kibagami!" Riley cackles. For the second time, Janus reaches down to lift up JD, but the Dawg counters with a swift and unseen kick to the family jewels, making Janus grimace in pain and stumble back. JD immediately springs to his feet, and Janus attempts to ward him off with a huge punch. Unfortunately for him, JD sidesteps the punch and grabs the outstretched arm, pulling the giant forward and off balance, slamming a stiff knee into his lower ribcage! Immediately afterwards, the Hardcore Maniac throws his arm forward over Janus' head as the giant doubles over, locking on a martial arts style facelock! "JD DDT!" "No, countered!" Riley squeals. Janus plants a huge fist into Jay Dawg's abdomen, forcing him to release the facelock, and the giant applies one of his own! JD wraps his arms around the giant's waist, preventing Janus from lifting him off the ground! After several futile attempts, Janus shrugs and releases the facelock...and lifts his arms above his head to drive a punishing axehandle straight down into Drazon's shoulder! The crowd oooooos in sympathetic pain as Drazon falls to the canvas, clutching his shoulder. For the second time that night, Janus hits the ropes and runs back, throwing himself up... ...and dropping a three hundred and fifty pound legdrop across the back of Jamie Drazon! The Hardcore Maniac writhes in pain, that sick grin still plastered across his face as he sadomasochistically enjoys the pain. Flopping onto his back, JD is apparently helpless, and Janus lifts a huge boot to stomp a hole through his opponent's ribcage - a move that is countered by JD abruptly sitting and grabbing the giant's raised leg! The Hell Machine starts in surprise, and Drazon twists to get his feet under him, before twisting the giant's bad leg around and slamming him down with a dragon screw legwhip! "Incredible display of violence from both men!" Stevens calls. "Not one attempt at a pinfall so far, and with all this leg and arm work, it looks like they're planning to try and make each other submit!" "Heheheee...JD, making Janus submit...that'd never happen." "Ejiro's done it, Riley." "Yeah, but Ejiro's Magnificent Seven material!" As Janus falls to the canvas, JD rises, still holding that leg. He grins as he lifts it into the air and applies a standing scissorlock, preparing to fall back and apply the dreaded JD's Avenge! As he prepares to fall back however, Janus half sits up, a huge hand reaching up to grab Drazon's hair! The Hardcore Maniac grimaces and tries to shake his head free, and Eddy Long comes over and orders Janus to let go of the hair! Reluctantly the giant does so...only to bring his other arm up and lock it around Drazon's throat in a blatant choke attempt! "Drazon going for the JD's Avenge! He wants to take his rage out on Janus, but the giant isn't letting him! A hair pull followed by a blatant choke! I think the giant knows what sort of punishment that would put on his leg!" "Pfft! Hair pull? Blatant choke? Are you seeing things, Stevens?" Riley mocks. "Are you only seeing what you want to see?" is the counter-argument. "No, cause in that case, Flesher would..." "Don't Go There." Stevens shudders. Letting go of Janus' leg, the Hardcore Maniac reaches to his throat, trying to pry the monster's fingers away. Straightening into more of a sitting position now Drazon has released his leg, the Hell Machine tenses his arm muscles and Shoves, sending Drazon stumbling back into the ropes! The giant attempts to quickly rise to his feet, but his punished leg slows him to a crawl. JD rubs his punished shoulder, grinning toothily, and charges across the ring towards Janus, arm extended for a lariat... ...that's evaded as Janus catches Drazon around the waist, lifts him high into the air, and then PULVERISES his spine with a vicious looking high-angle spinebuster! The giant immediately falls to hands and knees afterwards, his right leg still aching at its earlier punishment. Jamie Drazon sprawls before him, back arched in pain at the vicious spine-crushing move. Braving the pain, Janus locks one hand around the top of JD's head, and begins to stand up, dragging the Hardcore Maniac with him. Hobbling on his bad leg, Janus puts JD in a standing headscissors and slashes his thumbs across his throat, signalling for the end! "Whee! Dark Bomb time!" Riley giggles. "I think Janus had a different game plan to begin with...but it looks like he just wants to put JD away now!" Stevens comments. Flipping Drazon up onto his shoulders, Janus teeters on his bad leg, trying to maintain balance...and Drazon sinks not one, not two, but FIVE punches into the monster's head, breaking free of his grip. Already beginning to fall, Drazon twists his body and locks Janus in a front facelock, pulling the giant straight down to the ground with what looks like a high-angle evenflow DDT! The sound of Janus' head meeting canvas after such a sickening looking move makes everyone, even the announcers, wince. "JD DDT! JAY DAWG FALLS OFF JANUS' SHOULDERS WITH A JD DDT!" roars Stevens. "THIS MATCH COULD BE OVER!" "Jesus Stevens! Calm down! Janus is still moving!" Riley cackles. Indeed, Riley's words are true as Janus rolls onto his back, clutching the back of his head in pain. Dazed, he doesn't notice Jamie Drazon climbing to his feet, nor does he notice the Hardcore Maniac applying a standing scissorlock to his punished right leg.... ...but he FEELS it as JD falls back to the ground, locking on the JD's Avenge! The pain galvanises the giant into action, and his eyes shoot open as he roars in pain! A sick smile still plastered on his face, the Hardcore Maniac wrenches at the giant's knee, yelling at him to tap out. Janus just roars in pain, shaking his head. Eddy Long crouches by the giant's head, asking the screaming monster if he wants to give up. "JD's Avenge! Jay Dawg has the submission locked in on the leg he's been working all match!" Stevens hollers. "Nooooooo! Janus! Escape! Destroy him somehow! Finish him!" Riley gibbers in fear. Again, Eddy Long asks if Janus wishes to submit, the giant responds by reaching back with huge arms, and locking his hands - barely - around the ropes! Instantly, Long begins to count. It looks like Drazon doesn't notice however, pulling back on the crucifix kneebar with a sickening grin plastered on his face. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI.... ...and Jamie Drazon hears the call and lets go of the battered leg, knowing the match is pretty much his! He grins sadistically as he rises to his feet, watching Janus cling to the ropes and use them as an aid to climb upright. Hobbling on his bad leg, Janus knows that he's not going to be able to fight well, and keeps his red eyes focused squarely on JD. Not cocky by any means, but confident in his win, JD charges towards Janus and drops low, planning to take out the giant's knee in one fell swoop...but the baseball slide misses as Janus sidesteps! Limping on his bad knee, Janus lifts JD up by the hair, and the Hardcore Maniac responds with a stiff knee to Janus' ribcage and a second application of the martial-arts style front facelock! He attempts to heave, but Janus resists! "Drazon going for another JD DDT! If he lays Janus out with this, and locks on the JD's Avenge again, it's over!" "It's why Janus is resisting, Grand Spam! RESIST, JANUS!" Again, Drazon tries to lift. Again, Janus blocks. This goes on for several moments before the Hardcore Maniac gets tired of it. Releasing the facelock, JD steps back, measures his opponent, and spins himself around for the murderous Thai Roundhouse.... ...that, just like earlier in the match, Janus catches with his bare hands! He grimaces at the impact, glaring at the Hardcore Maniac before shoving his leg aside, spinning him around and then lunging forward to apply a front facelock! However, Drazon gets out of it with an unseen knee to the groin, forcing Janus to release the hold and stumble backwards. Stepping forward, JD grabs Janus around the waist, lifts him straight off the mat, and slams him down with a belly-to-belly side-suplex! Janus arches his back in pain, and instead of locking on the JD's Avenge, Drazon drags Janus away from the ropes. Delivering a few stiff kicks to Janus' bad leg, the Hardcore Maniac then heads towards the corner turnbuckle. "What's he doing?? Just apply the JD's Avenge and it's over, JD!" Stevens calls. "I guess he wants to prove he's better than Janus with a top rope move! He'll mess it up, you watch!" Riley giggles. Jamie Drazon appears to be disproving Riley's theory however, as he perches on the top rope, sighting the giant and judging the distance. Narrowing his eyes, the Hardcore Maniac throws himself off the top turnbuckle, arms spread to his sides as he executes a swandive headbutt, soaring down, his forehead aimed directly for Janus' head.... ...and the giant rolls out of the way, forcing Drazon to crash headfirst into the canvas! The crowd 'oooooo's in sympathetic pain, as the Hell Machine and the Hardcore Maniac sprawl side by side, each trying to fight through their pain, get their breath back, and continue the fight. "See, Stevens? I -told- you he'd mess up!" Riley chortles. "Indeed, Riley. He wanted to show Janus up with that swandive headbutt, but the giant rolled out of the way! Now it's a race to see who can get up first!" Having just landed on his head, it seems Drazon isn't capable of rising, so Janus does it for him...climbing slowly to his feet. Hobbling, the giant grabs a handful of long brown hair and drags Jay Dawg upright! Scowling through the pain that burns through his body, Janus sinks a huge knee into the stomach of Jamie Drazon, doubling him over. The giant smiles at the crowd, and then locks a front facelock on his opponent! The crowd boos as they realise what's coming, and Janus locks his other hand onto JD's belt, and with a tremendous heave, lifts Drazon into the air in a stalling vertical suplex! "Heeeere we go! Janus is going to crater JD's skull and that is that!" Riley giggles. "Looks like he's fighting out of it, Riley..." "He can't...hey! Don't!" Riley demands that JD does not struggle like he is, as the Hardcore Maniac kicks his legs and tries to offset the giant's balance! Normally, Janus wouldn't be bothered by this, but his leg is a major problem thanks to what Drazon has done to it, and so... "He escaped it! Jay Dawg got out of the Rage Unleashed!" Stevens bellows. "NO! Not fair!" Indeed, Drazon has managed to kick his legs and off balance the giant, dropping down behind him. Staggering from the pain still searing through his shoulder and ribcage, JD kicks Janus square in the hamstring. The monster's bad leg crumples underneath him, dropping him to one knee. Seeing an opportunity, the Hardcore Maniac runs for the opposite ropes and rebounds, stepping up onto Janus' knee... "Shining Black! Janus' lights are being put out~!" roars Stevens. "NO! LOOK, MARKY MARK!" Riley almost shrieks like a girl. ...because perched on Janus' knee, Drazon finds his foot caught in a pair of giant hands! Janus lifts his eyes to stare up at Drazon, and pushes the leg to the side with all his power. The Hardcore Maniac loses his balance, being spun around and stumbling off the giant's knee in the same motion. Janus rises up, arms spreading to either side like a trap preparing to close. He'd been waiting for just this moment.... ....And then his arms close around JD's biceps and chest, locking together and squeezing at full power! "HELL CRUSH! JANUS IS TRYING TO SQUEEZE THE LIFE FROM THE HARDCORE MANIAC!" "Whoooo! Go Janus! Go Janus! Crush Drazon's ribs! Go Janus! Go Janus!" Riley's little chant earns him a frown from Stevens, as Janus roars something incomprehensible, shaking Drazon around like a rag doll in his grasp. However, true to his sadomasochistic attitude, Jamie Drazon did not tap out from the pain. Instead, he smiled maliciously, savouring the pain that burns through his body like a fire. He flexes his arms in preparation for escaping....when a fiery pain in his shoulder distracts him. Now he understood. The shoulder work was to prevent him from breaking free. The chest work was to weaken him for this very hold. Janus had planned it perfectly. JD was not known for quitting. And he didn't want to quit. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. Finally, with no other recourse, Jamie Drazon passed out. Janus squeezes tight, then releases the hold and lets the limp body of the Hardcore Maniac fall to the ground. JD doesn't move, except a faint groan. Eddy Long examines the fallen Dawg and lifts his arm once. "ONE!" No response from the fallen Drazon. The arm is lifted a second time. "TWO!" The crowd holds their breath as Eddy Long lifts Drazon's arm for the third and final time...and it drops. "THREE! RING THE BELL!" Long yells. *DING DING DING* Funyon rises from his seat as "Resurrection" begins to boom out of the speakers. Janus stretches his arms to either side, then just smirks down at his opponent as if satisfied with the punishment he has inflicted. However, he isn't above adding humiliation to punishment, and shows it with several stiff boots to Drazon's ribcage, barely able to keep standing. "The winner of this bout, by submission-knockout.....the Hell Machine......JAAAAAAAANUS!" The giant promptly falls to one knee again as his battered leg gives out, but he grabs the ropes and uses them to assist himself out of the ring. Limping, the giant makes his way up the ramp to a chorus of boos from the crowd. He pauses on the rampway to lean on the security railing, showing that his leg is a lot worse than it appears to be. He grimaces and continues on his course, pausing on the top of the ramp to turn around and point at the ring. His bellowing voice is Just audible above the booing sounds of the fans. "NATHAN! SOON, THAT WILL BE YOUR FATE!" And with those words, Janus limps backstage...and EMTs head for the rings to check on Jamie Drazon. The Hardcore Maniac is already stirring however, and shakes off assistance as he climbs to his feet, arms wrapped around his ribcage as his eyes open, crystal blue eyes glaring up the ramp at where Janus had disappeared. Ignoring the attempted aid, Jamie Drazon exits the ring and walks up the ramp, clutching his chest the entire way. "After seeing that...up next we have a most interesting match, with Justice and Rule set to take on not another tag team, but each other!" "It's a conspiracy against the champions, Stevens! Why else would they be set to fighting each other? CONSPIRACY, I SAY!" As the two commentators banter back and forth about why Justice and Rule must face each other, SWF Lockdown fades to commercial...a commercial that advertises none other than the Judge himself, advertising his action figure complete with hard-hitting gavel-swinging action~! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 And we come back to Lockdown after a quick commercial break, greeted by the packed crowd with raucous cheers. We zoom down to the announcer’s table, where Grand Slam and Bobbie Riley are ready to start doing their jobs again. “Well, we are back for one interesting match up. I just have in that Justice can Rule will be choosing their own rules for the match, whatever those will be. So what do you think, Bobbie? Will it be a submission match? A 2/3 falls?” “Um… bra and panties?” “…” “That’s the only one I could think up off the top of my head!” Grand Slam just shakes his head as the SmarkTron and the arena turns black as a strumming guitar beat in the background begins to play. It gets louder, and the screen begins to light up with words…. DA! “JUSTICE AND RULE” DA DA DA! “ONE ON ONE!” DA DA DA! “ONE NIGHT ONLY!” DA DA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa- “MYSTERY STIPULATION!” -DA! “THE TRAINING BEGINS!” As “Eye of the Tiger” begins to set in, we see the words “DAY 1” fade in and out Grand Slam puts his face into his hands while an excited Bobbie Riley watches. “… Rising up… Back on the street…” On screen, we fade into a shot of Judge William Hearford, decked out in jogging gear and running in slow motion in the park… “Did my, took my chances…” Cut to Ejiro’s upper body as he jumps rope, his face pure Zen as he prepares… “Went the distance now I’m back on my feet-” Cut back to the shot of Judge running in slow-mo, and the camera backs away… showing the world around him moving as fast as it always does. “Just a man and his will to survive…” Quick cut back to Ejiro, and the shot backs up to reveal he’s playing jump rope with a few 6th grade girls (Which happen to be taller than him as well). He furiously tries to keep up with his partner, a girl who leisurely jumps along saying a popular rhyme. “So many times, it happens to fast…” As Hearford ‘runs’, his foot catches a rock, and he plummets to the ground very… VERY slowly. Slow enough that a few passer-bys have a chance to walk through the shot, giving a passing glace at the old man trapped in bullet time. ”You trade your passion for glory…” Ejiro tries to keep up with the rope and the giggling girl, but his foot catches the rope and he eats a face full of dirt, causing the girls to laugh at him for a moment. He pounds his fists into the ground while the girls start up their game up double dutch minus one. “Don’t loss a grip! on the dreams of the past…” The Judge lies unmoving on the ground, causing a little boy holding his mother’s hand to point at him. A passing business man kneels down and checks his pulse before quickly whipping out a cell phone and dialing a number. “You must fight just to keep them alive!” From the ground, Ejiro quickly turns around and tries to jump back in the game, but only trips himself up on the rope. The infernal children’s puts him on the ground, causing an even bigger tantrum than last time. “It’s the Eye of the Tiger!” From the ground, Hearford slowly begins to get back up, pushing away the paramedics that have arrived on the scene to help him. He slowly starts ‘running’ again, pushing through the small crowd that developed around him… “It’s the thrill of the fight!” The girls begin playing jump rope again, but an INTENSE~! Fasaki walks over and demands to be let in. They shrug and let him back in, and he begins jumping rope with INTENSITY~! as his 6th grade partner gleefully jumps with him. “Rising up to the challenge of our rival!” Hearford keeps running and slowly but surely he begins to raise his arms in some sort of slow motion victory as pedestrians watch him slowly pass with shrugs and looks of “What the hell?” on their faces. “And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…” The two continue jump roping, but the girl stumbles a little this time, and the rope catches the young girl’s foot. Suddenly Ejiro raises his hands in victory, then points at the little girl and spouts some trash. He stomps off screen with his hands up in the air as the little girl begins to cry, sparking Ejiro to come back, dropping to his knees and looking up to the sky with his fists raised. “And he’s watching us all with the Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye of the Tiger…” The lights come on as the music continues on, and both men run down the entrance ramp to a chorus of boos as usual. Between them they carry a tumbler full of papers. “Well, thank God that’s over…” says Grand Slam, thankful for the end of the video. The two enter the ring and place the tumbler in the center. Hearford takes out a mic and begins to speak. “People! In this tumbler is every match and competition we could think of, from Hell in a Cell to Hell in a Steak ‘n Shake. Anything and everything…” he says, with emphasis Ejiro spins the tumbler. The Judge motions him to stop so he can put his hand in. “Now for the moment of truth,” he says, reaching in and grabbing a piece of paper, “Which form of competition will two distinguished men like us compete in!” He looks down at the paper. It reads “Bra and Panties match”. “… …PING PONG!” Ejiro gives a big sigh of relief, and from the ceiling a standard sized Ping Pong table is lowered. Matty Kivell comes into ring and gives the two ping pong paddles. “Well, it looks like they are going to play Ping Pong to decide who really is the better man here.” “Ping Pong, the game of kings!” “And the mentally challenged, if I remember my movies correctly.” The Judge starts off, hitting the ball and getting “ONE BOUNCE!” “TWO-NO!” Ejiro taps it back to the other side, hitting in the middle of the table for “ONE BOUNCE!” “TWO-NO!” The Judge hits it back for- “Bobbie, stop it. That’s very irritating.” “…” “Thank yo-” “ONE BOUNCE!” “TWO-” “STOP IT ALREADY!” The two smack the ping pong ball back and forth, in a furious exchange until Hearford puts some spin on the ball, curving it past Ejiro’s paddle for the first point! Matty Kivell takes out another ping pong ball from his pocket and lets Hearford take the serve. The two volley back and forth, until Ejiro hits it high up into the air. Hearford comes to the side of the table for the smash… “LOOK OUT, MATT!” Ejiro shouts, and the ref goes down to get out of the way of some unknown impending danger, allowing him to poke the eyes of the nearby Hearford! The ball bounces on the table once, then twice as Kivell stands back up, and it’s now tied at 1-1! “Oh God, they’ve actually found a way to cheat at a simple game of Table Tennis.” “Let the trickery begin!” This time Kivell tosses the ball to Ejiro and lets him serve. Hearford returns the opening smack with a curve ball at the younger man. Fasaki gets it and smashes it back, and the Judge returns the volley. As Ejiro winds up for his shot… “Kivell, your shoelace!” Matt looks down for a moment, and as Ejiro hits the ball… which the Judge catches! The old man catches it in his paddle hand and tosses it at the corner of the table, and Ejiro definitely can’t catch it in time! Kivell comes up to see the Judge’s paddle hand extended after his big ‘smash’ and makes the logic jump, giving the Judge the point! Kivell gives the Judge the serve, who smashes it hard at the left side of the table. Ejiro steps to the side, but instead of hitting the thing, he chooses the nudge the table forwards, and the ball barely misses the table as it hits the ground, and Ejiro ties the game at 2-2. “BAH!” growls William, “This is no way for men to settle up their difficulties! For we are men and we need more than paddles to settle this thing!” “Ha! Ha! Yes, for I am gay and I note the subtle sexual innuendo!” notes The Gay Announcer. “You would note the subtle sexual innuendo,” notes The Strait Announcer, “For that is your job, and if you do not note the subtle sexual innuendo, the people at home might not understand it. Thank Jesus for you, Gay Announcer.” “Look if we cannot settle our deep and foreboding issues with the power of the pong,” asks Ejiro, “How might all our childhood issues be brought to the for so that we might deal with them in an adult way so we might never bring them up again. EVER.” Slamming his paddle against the hard whatever a Ping-Pong table is made of, The Judge spits through his teeth, “There is but one way to settle this noise! I declare ... for you to face me ... in ... ... ... ... What was I saying? ... ... ... Oh yes... ... ... GIANT ROBOT COMMMMMMBAT!” “What?” “To your giant robot, you cur!” “My what?” GO GO JUDGERANGER! GO GO JUDGERANGER! NEW MIGHTY MORPHIN JUDGERANGER! THERE ARE NO OTHER WORDS TO THE SONG! GO GO JUDGERANGER! GO GO JUDGERANGER! NEW MIGHTY MORPHIN JUDGERRRRRRRAAAAAANGER! A bright flash of light EXPLODES (but not like TNT) as The Judge is instantly covered in a bright primary colored spandex get up. I would tell you what color it is, but I am colorblind and I’m not sure which it is. But it sure is bright and primary let me tell you that! And form fitting! Ejiro says, “Sweet merciful crap, Judge. That outfit leaves nothing to the imagination. Yuck. You do know you have old man tits right?” “Quiet you! You won’t be talking your smack when I lay the beat down on your tiny Asian ass. And now to summon my MEGA JUDGERZOID!” “Your what?” GO GO MEGA JUDGERZOID! GO GO JUDGERZOID! NEW MIGHTY MORPHIN JUDGERZOID! Flying through the air flies the mighty morphin Judgerzoid! Standing in at 100 feet high, the giant robot stands high above the Ping-Pong palace as Judge LEAPS high into the air and lands snuggly in the cockpit. “COCK!” laughs The Gay Announcer. “And now, Ejiro, you will face the mighty morphin might of me!” “Wait a second? You’re a power ranger? What the hell?” “Come on Ejiro over half the United States has been a power ranger. After Regular, Ninja Force, Wild Force, Time Force, and Ninja Force again... they had to keep going! Hence JUDGERFORCE! It’s pretty strait forward.” “So,” questions Ejiro, “Can you hook me up with Amy Jo Johnson?” “NEVER!” cries out the Judge as his huge robot lowers a fist and snags Ejiro around the body and jerks him high up into the air. “You know,” Ejiro grumbles as he is brought high into the air, “This isn’t really a fair giant robot battle since I don’t have a giant robot.” “That’s not my fault. I figured you could call Godzilla or something. Don’t you Asians have his hotline number?” “Why do all you Crackers think that? Hello, Godzilla destroys Japan half the time! He’s not a big scaly Lassie!” “Well then I guess I’ll just have to flick your ear.” Thumbing the miniscule Ejiro against the ear with his giant robot thumb, Judge exerts enough pressure to be really, really annoying. FLICK! “Ouch! Quit it!” FLICK! “Hey! No!” FLICK! “KNOCK IT OFF!” FLICK! FLICK! FLICK! “You’re making me angry.” FLICK! “You won’t like me if I’m angry.” FLICK! “Wait a minute,” asks The Judge, “You aren’t going to turn into The Hulk are you? Because although it is somewhat topical because of the movie, it is rather trite don’t you think?” “No I’m not going to turn into The Hulk...” replies Fasaki as he turns his face downward. “Damn right.” FLICK! FLICK! “ME NO AM HULK! ME AM FOOOOOOOOOOOG~!” “What?” “Fooog. Me am Fooog. Let em down now.” Bursting from the iron grip of the Juderzoid, the purple body of Ejiro swells and swells and swells! Until it is nearly as tall as his towering titanic opponent! “Sweet Christmas! Ejiro you’ve busted through all your clothes!” “RAHHH! FOOOG HAVE NO SHAME! RAHHHHH!” SLAM! Reaching back with his mighty fist, Fooog smashes in the metal chasis of the Juderzoid and sends it flying backward into a skyscraper that looks shockingly like a prop. BOOM! “GAHHH!” shouts Judge as sparks shoot dangerously close to his hair, “You’ll pay for that! Form BLAZING SWORD!” “RAHHH! FOOOG KNOW YOU MIXING POP CULTURE REFERENCES!” “Never!” SLASH KABOOOOOOOOOOOM! “RAHHHHHHHHHHH!” Flying back in the other direction, the bloated Ejiro goes pin wheeling into another rather spongy looking building as The Judge leans forward on his Blazing Sword. “Funny, this thing usually kills monsters in one shot,” says The Judge. “RAHHHH! FOOOG NO IS MONSTER! FOOOG IS TRAGIC HERO LIKE OTHELLO! RAHHHH!” BOOOOOOOOOOOM! SPLAT! ZORT! AND SO ON! “Stop right there!” comes the voice of reason in all this chaos, “Or face my wrath!” “What?” asks Judge. “RAHHH?” grunts Ejiro. “Who are you to command us?” “RAHHH WE IS MIGHTY!” “Who am I?” grins the mystery man, “Why I am none other...” Than MR BUKAKE! “DEAR LORD NO! EJECT~! EEEEEEEJECT~!” screams The Judge as he goes flying out the top of his giant robot. Hitting the ground running, Hearford doesn’t stop until he reaches the relative safety of Burbank. “RAHHHHHHH! FOOOG NO IS SCARED! BRING THE NOISE! RAHHHH!” “Very well, monster... prepare... for the Bukake Cannon! FIRE!” SPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG! “RAHHHH! MY GIANT NAKED PURPLE HEAD IS ALL STICKY!” Suddenly, out of the darkness a hand with a gun shoots G.S. right in the back! He slumps over dead as Riley begins screaming bloody murder. Well, it is isn’t it? ***** “GAH!” says Riley, suddenly lifting his head off the announcers table. He looks around, and sees the friendly visage of Grand Slam shuffling through his notes in preparation for the next match. Mark looks over to see Riley blinking as his eyes adapt to the light. “Jeez, you finally wake up. You slept through the whole Ping Pong match between Ejiro and Judge.” “You’re alive! I just had the weirdest dream. All this stuff happened, and you got shot…” “Well, it was just a dream Bobbie,” says Grand Slam, and Riley puts on a confused face. “Hey, aren’t I supposed to like find you in the shower alive after I have dream where you get shot and killed?” “…” “What?” “… Bobbie, this is a family show. Families tune in to watch grown men hitting each other with dangerous weapons and force-feeding each other urinal cakes. So please, in the interests of families, never say that again.” “Whatever…” “Well, at any rate, we have a great match coming up next on SWF Lockdown, so don’t change that channel!” *FADE TO COMMERCIAL* Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 Back from commercial break, Funyon is seen stepping into the ring. Stevens: This is it, folks, the moment that many have been waiting for; Taylor Nicholas Thompson will FINALLY get his hands on Tod deKindes! Riley: (sputtering) And tell me WHY are you stating this as if this match was already a foregone conclusion?! Bell chimes three times. Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, Lockdown continues with the following contest, set for ONE fall!! The lights slowly dim, making way for a familiar set of strobe lights invading the arena, as Marilyn Manson's "Antichrist Superstar" starts to fade in. As the drums and guitars kick in, out paces once again the familiar smart ass face of one Tod deKindes, back in his wrestling gear, back in his black trench coat and back in front of a hating crowd that has no love for him. Funyon: Introducing first: from Toronto, Ontario, Canada and weighing in at 225 lbs … Making his in-ring return to the Smarks Wrestling Federation … Tod - deeeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeeeeesss !! He strolls down the ramp with a smirk on his face, then rolls in under the bottom rope. He vaults up to a second rope, flashing his old Spirit Breaker symbol, indifferent to whatever opinion the New Jersey crowd has for him. After freeing himself from his trench coat, the music fades away into silence, as Tod warms up in the ropes. Funyon: And his opponent … -Guitar riff- -Rising drum beat- "Oy! Oy! Oy! Oy! …" Funyon: From Anaheim, California; he weighs in at 266 lbs. He is TNT - Taylor - Nicholaaaaaaaaaaaas - Thompsooooooooooon !! As AC/DC's track rocks the arena, the Explosive One slowly walks out, eyes fixed on one man and one man only. In the ring, the Torontonian Wonder returns the same steely gaze … "Watch me exploooooooooode!" That seems to be the cue for TNT to power walk down the aisle, ready to tear the head off of one Torontonian Wonder. Just as he storms into the ring, Tod makes a quick escape to ringside, causing a few boos. Stevens: Look at Tod running, Bobby! It's no secret that HE knows what'll happen to him!! Riley: Oh, POPPYCOCK!! He knows as well as everybody else does that any good athlete needs to do a good bit of stretching before a match! You can hurt your adductors if you don't! Honest! As the AC/DC fades away, Tod has never left the sight of the boiling TNT. While the opening bell promptly chimes, referee Billy Chioda beckons the Torontonian to enter the ring so that the match can get started. With a cautious demeanor, Tod gets a knee onto the ring apron, then quickly rolls inside. Stevens: Tod deKindes hasn't wrestled since late December, Bobby. I think the question on everyone's mind is how much ring rust he must have. Riley: Tod appears to be in damn good shape if you ask me. I mean, look at that bod! Stevens: But it's nowhere near superior, is it? Riley: What? As Billy Chioda finally gives the universal "Let's get it on!" symbol, the two wrestlers finally start circling each other. They collide in center ring with a stiff lock up, as TNT makes good use of his power, muscling Tod all the way into a corner. Tod: Hey! Hair, hair, hair, hair!! Hey, ref!! Failing to see Tod's complain of a hairpull, the referee quickly orders a break. Back to center ring, both men connect into another solid lock up, where once again Thompson forces Tod back into the turnbuckles. Chioda once again orders the break as he rears back with his fist, with murderous intentions in mind. Tod is quick to cower in fear, but then dares Thompson to swing, which Tod ducks! Tod now hammers away with quick right hands on Thompson, but they have no effect! Upon realizing his efforts are in vain, Tod quickly backs away, as Taylor gives chase. Tod sprints out of the ring, while the referee detains Thompson inside the ring. Riley: Stick and move, Tod! Stick and move!! Tod takes a second to crack his knuckles, then carefully re-enters the ring via the bottom rope. Both wrestlers connect into a third lock up, this time Tod grabs a quick head lock. Tod: Ah HA!! Try chasin' me NOW, hot head!! Thompson frees himself as he shoves Tod into the ropes. Thompson drops down as Tod hops over him, then gets up for an attempt at a hiptoss. Tod flips out of it, landing on his feet, grabs TNT's arm then throws him in the ropes. Thompson ducks under a fierce clothesline attempt and a just-as-fierce back elbow attempt. Tod lets out a loud war cry as he charges with a tackle … but nobody budges. Tod: Wuh oh. Thompson plants a knee lift into Tod's gut, Irish whips him in the ropes, but it's reversed by Tod. Tod now drops down to the mat to avoid the charge and then springs to his feet so he can leap frog and avoid another. A third charge from TNT is avoided as Tod grabs his arm and SCORES with a floatover DDT! He quickly crawls onto TNT, grinding his forearm in his face, motionning for Billy Chioda to count. ONE! TW— Thompson kicks out with authority, pressing Tod almost two feet in the air! Thompson tries to shake the cobwebs loose, but Tod is right back on him with a series of stomps and forearms to the upper back. Thompson retreats to a corner, but Tod maintains the offensive as he showers his midsection with repeated stomps. Irish whip to the opposite corner by Tod, which is duly reversed by TNT. As Tod hits the turnbuckles back first and hard, Thompson charges right away with a corner spear in mind, but Tod does a Van Dam like roll out of the corner, using TNT's back. He snaps off a vicious back elbow towards the back of Thompson's head, stunning him momentarily. He does a quick 180, grabbing a rear waist lock and then PLANTS him with a ferocious german suplex, barely maintaining the bridge for the pin attempt!! ONE! TWO! Stevens: And another kick out by the former World champ, this time with a little less gusto! Riley: Tod's game plan is becoming clear now: get this match over with as soon as possible! Nothing would upset TNT more than losing to Tod … which'll happen anyways, but still! Both men are back up and exchanging right hands, with Thompson slowly mounting a comeback, laying in the haymakers quicker and thicker. Irish whip off the ropes by TNT, who catches Tod in a flap jack position … travels back a few steps … and DROPS Tod face first onto a top turnbuckle! Solid cross corner Irish whip from TNT sends Tod hard to the other side of the ring, causing him to stagger forward. Thompson throws himself off the adjacent ropes, readying himself for a big bulldog headlock, but Tod quickly counters it in mid run as he shoves TNT chest first hard into the corner. As he staggers backwards from the blow, Tod meanwhile collects his senses … and locks in the Silent Scream! Riley: Booyah! The Silent Scream, Stevens!! He's beaten a lot of people with that move!! Stevens: Tod is going for the quick upset indeed, Bobby! If he can get that body scissors in he's got a good chance of doing just that! But TNT is still fighting the hold for now! While Tod implores for TNT to please die and stop breathing, bitch; referee Billy Chioda has a tough time trying to check for a submission, due to Thompson's wild flailing. Gathering up his strengths, he pedals backwards full speed, unaware of where he’s going. Result: Tod ends up SQUASHED in the corner, involuntarily forced to release his submission hold. Recovering, TNT grabs Tod's arm for another cross corner Irish whip, but Tod switches position and nails Thompson in the gut with another knee lift for good measure. He grabs him in the vertical suplex position and proceeds to lift him up with almost ease, holding Thompson up for a good five seconds. Riley: Look at that POWER!! Stevens: That's 266 lbs that Tod is holding up there! During that five seconds; Tod either thinks about a regular suplex, drilling the guy's head with a brainbuster, if he remembered to lock up his hotel room, that X2 totally rocked the casbah, lacking some minor details or a front suplex. Five seconds, go figure. He opts for none of those, as he drops Thompson HARD stomach first on the top rope! Stevens: That can NOT feel too good. Riley: Of course not, it must hurt like HELL; which is EXACTLY what each and every of Tod's opponents have gone through! Stevens: I got to admit, first match back in and Tod is looking pretty good right about now. And -- WHOA, lookit that! During that little dialog, Tod throws himself into the opposite set of ropes and SAILS over the prone Thompson in a devastating Sunset Powerbomb attempt. But small as Tod is, and strong as TNT is; the Explosive One hangs onto the top rope with all his might. Riley: Yes! Powerbomb RIGHT on the cee-ment floor! GOD, I missed seeing that move!! … Tod: (straining) Aaaaaaaaargh! Fall, damn you!! … Hey, wait a second. Using the alternative method to that move, Tod casually yanks out Thompson's feet from under him, causing him to smash his face on the apron! Tod quickly slithers back in the ring, while Billy Chioda fires up his outside count. As TNT (1) slowly gathers up his bearings, Tod times his steps properly. (2) Tod: Gonna fly now!! Always up for some (3) aerials, the crowd perks up a little as Tod bounces off the ropes, ready for some air time … but instead does (4) a lame hurdler's hop over the top rope, landing on the apron, only to swat (5) TNT away with a kick to the head. The crowd boos hardily, but deKindes only responds with a mild smirk! Stevens: Great. Nice to see (6) he hasn't forgotten THAT. Riley: This is SO funny I could cry, (7) Stevens! … Chioda: (breaking his count) C'mon Tod, quit teasin' the people!! Tod: What!! I could get HURT!! Focusing back on TNT, Tod takes a two-step leap off the apron with a vertical dive in mind; but TNT suddenly wakes up and BLASTS Tod in mid air with a (slightly more vertical than usual) Burning Lariat!! Tod crumples to the mat in a quivering mass. Stevens: And WHAT a turnover by TNT!! Tod deKindes just got the AIR driven out of him!! As the Double Feature replays what just happened, Thompson collects Tod by the hair and tosses him back in the ring, where he follows suit. Riley: (worried) Oh God. Tod tried his absolute possible best to get rid of TNT early, but now TNT's got himself an opening. Stevens: And now the slaughter begins … Riley: No way Canned Spam! Tod’s still got this thing in the bag; he’s just taking a breather! Stevens: I’ve never seen someone call getting your ass kicked taking a breather before… Riley: …Multitasking! Taylor has Tod on his feet, and delivers a few stiff yet speedy elbows to his head and jaw to back him against the ropes, before grabbing a hold of his wrist and Irish whipping him into the opposite ones! Tod takes the cables in the back and bounces off of them, making his way back to the center of the ring, where Taylor waits… Stevens: Irish whip, aaaaaand… Riley: Duck! Duck! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!! Stevens: I don’t think he can hear you, Bobby. Riley goes to get his megaphone, but it’s too late, as Thompson catches Tod on the rebound, and lifts him into the air with ease via military press. Tod: Gah!! Let me down, let me down! (realizing how TNT could take that the wrong way) No no no, this is fine; keep me up! UP, damn you!! Taylor presses Tod up and down a few times and the crowd roars with approval, but the cheers reach there all-time high when Taylor releases his arch nemesis in midair, spins ninety degrees to catch him on his shoulder, and slams him right down into the mat! Riley: Ouch! Tod really needs one of those “Fragile” labels to stick on his back or something. Stevens: Military Press into a slam, and now Taylor goes for the cover! Taylor scuttles over Tod for the military press, as the zebra counts: ONE! TWO! Tod desperately kicks out from beneath the explosive behemoth, who only sees this as an excuse to discombobulate his opponent just a little bit more. Stevens: Tod kicks out like a rat desperately escaping a mousetrap, but how long will he be able to keep this up?? Again, TNT lifts Tod to a vertical base and starts plunging elbow after elbow into his cranium, this time backing him into the nearest corner, with bad intentions! Tod lies groggily up against the ring post, and Taylor only sees this as a chance to get more leverage, as he climbs up to the second turnbuckle to mount Tod, and starts nailing him with strikes from there! Elbows, forearms, and punches are all fair game as Tod’s face slowly bruises like a cantaloupe. Tod: Ow! OW! The face! Watch the face!! That’s it… Ding! Aim, lock on target, and fire as Tod hits a hard-hitting low blow on Taylor, causing him to grab at his dynamite stick and double over in pain, still on the second turnbuckle! Stevens: Tod hits a blatant low blow that I have NO clue how the ref didn’t see… aaaaaaand here it comes… inverted atomic drop! Riley: Working the pelvic region leaves Tod with a gazillion different possible ways to finish this match; from the Brazilian testicular claw hold to a simple yet effective kick to the balls! TNT gets planted with an inverted atomic drop and spins around 180 degrees, doubling over in anguish, all while Tod quickly ascends the turnbuckle behind him, and waits for him to turn around… Stevens: Tod takes flight! Riley: He’s like that bat in Fern Gully, only WHACKIER! Stevens: What the hec—OUCH! Tod soars at momentous speeds down onto the standing TNT, positioning his legs in front of him so that he can catch him with a flying dropkick right to the side of the head! Tod: How ‘BOUT that!! The crowd boos and Taylor grunts before collapsing in a heap, allowing Tod to make the hasty cover. Stevens: Things were finally starting to pick up for Taylor as he was getting some actual offense in, but just as a full-scale comeback was about to take place, Tod swindled his way out of it with a low blow! Riley: Hey, don’t point fingers like it was something horrible to do; the referee could’ve called for the DQ if he wanted, you know! Stevens: I have a feeling that Chioda saw that low blow as clear as day, but didn’t want to see this match end so soon, and figured that Taylor getting his revenge would be punishment enough for Tod! Riley: Yes, that must be it, no money switching hands at all. As the commentators quarrel at ringside, Tod pins both of Taylor’s shoulders to the mat as Chioda drops down to make the count… ONE! Tod (holding a single finger up above his head): One! TWO! Tod (this time with two fingers up): Two! Tod hooks the leg, just to make sure… T— Tod (his hand already up in the air): Thr—dammit all to HELL!! Come on, Billy!! Chioda: Only 3, Tod! Tod: Boo! Chioda: I said 3, man! Tod: Dude, I can SO count better and faster than THAT!! Tod pries at the ref relentlessly, but he’s suddenly interrupted by Taylor, who reaches up between his legs from behind in mid sentence, and rolls him up with a schoolboy! Stevens: And there’s the roll up out of nowhere!! Caught by surprise, Billy Chioda scrambles to get into the right position and then makes the count. Riley: Yum, schoolboys. ONE! TWO! Tod is quick in escaping the surprise pin attempt, rolling backwards right out of it, but when he spins to his feet and charges at Taylor with hopes of regaining the advantage, he finds himself caught in mid stride, and hurled right over his opponent’s head with a belly-to-belly suplex!! Stevens: Beautiful suplex, and now Taylor is on his feet and signaling for the end! Riley: What?? So quick? Oh well, I suppose Taylor finishing up prematurely shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. TNT deliberately moves his thumb across his neck with the cutthroat gesture, ready for the match to end, before actually doing something about it, as he pries Tod up from the mat, and tucks his head between his legs with a standing headscissors! Tod tries to say something witty along the lines of “Eww! Cooties! Get me out of here before I catch an STD!” but only grunts and gurgles come out, as those lariats and elbows and forearms have built up a nice big collection of cobwebs inside the Canadian’s head. Stevens: Thompson is going to hit the Mushroom Cloud!!!! We’re only a few minutes into this match, and Taylor’s already about to finish off Tod deKindes!! Riley: And all that testicle psychology on Tod’s part and it leads to NOTHING!? What a waste! TNT goes to hook Tod’s arms, but the Torontonian Wonder panics and drops down to his belly, swiftly slithering back away from Taylor, his heart filled with dread at the mere thought of Taylor getting his hands on him again. Tod regains his composure within seconds however, as he rolls out of the ring completely and confidently slicks back his hair before pointing at his head, just so the crowd can see where all of his ingenious escape plans form. Riley: I knew you could do it, Tod! You’re as reliable as Johnny Quest! Stevens: Tod escapes a Mushroom Cloud by a hair, but Chioda is initiating the ten count, so he’ll have to get back in there sometime! Riley: You’ve seen (1) how Tod had things in hand back there. He is in NO hurry whatsoever (2) to get back inside that ring! Stevens: Things in hand?! He’s getting (3) killed in there!! Riley: Naw see, this is ALL (4) a part of his plan! Stevens: Plan for what? Taking (5) the worst ass kicking this side of ‘Nam? Thompson charges to the outside, vaulting through the ropes; but Tod quickly slides back in under the bottom rope! Thompson tries to follow him back in, but Tod is right on him with a series of stomps and kicks to the head! He tries to Irish whip the Explosive One to the opposite ropes, but Thompson has a firm grip on the ropes and dang he is NOT moving, Jethro. Thompson switches positions, catches Tod in the uranage position and fucking DRIVES his head down to the mat with an STO!! Stevens: Power – Nitro – DRIVER!! And there go a couple of IQ points, Bobby!! Riley: (increasingly worried) Oh Lord. This looks bad … Thompson looks down at his downed rival, looking moreless satisfied. He could pin him right now, but why stop now? The fun is only beginning. Stevens: I think everyone’s starting to realize now, it’s not a matter of if TNT can beat Tod; but WHEN and HOW MUCH will he beat up Tod! Riley: Now that's just sick!! Thompson picks up the near lifeless Tod, and backs him into a corner. Grabbing his limp arm, he sends him with all his might into the opposite corner as Tod CRASHES into the corner. TNT times his steps, charges and then SPLATS the poor Torontonian with a massive corner clothesline! He repeats another Irish whip, almost with a sick grin on his face, as Tod helplessly crashes into the oppositer corner, barely staggering forward. He grabs Tod by the head, snapmaring him forward. He softly shushes the crowd, imploring them to listen … Stevens: Oh ho, listen to this, Bobby. … As he swings forward and SMACKS Tod in the back with a vicious knee strike to the back of the neck!! The crowd groans approvingly as Tod collapses in a heap to the mat. Thompson lays a foot on Tod’s chest as Billy Chioda gets into position. ONE! TWO! TH– Chioda: What the? TNT: C’mon ref, let’s give him a chance!! Riley: Now that’s just plain rude!! Thompson nudges the carcass of Tod with his foot repeadetly, dropping a few elbows along the way. Riley: Come on, you'll bruise his chest! Grabbing a handful of long stringy dark hair, TNT forces Tod up to his feet, as he allows himself a few bitchslaps on the Torontonian. He Irish whips him in the ropes, as Tod is too weak to even contemplatea rebuttal. Coming off the ropes, Tod lands in a double leg pick up as Thompson does a quick 180 and PLANTS him to the mat with a HUGE spinebuster! Rather than going for a cover, Thompson grabs his opponent by the hair again and decides to throw a little trash talking his way. TNT: Wanna get rid of me, huh?! How 'bout I KILL YER ASS first!!! He once again yanks up the defenseless Tod up to his feet, as he sends him face first into a turnbuckle! One more time for good measure. Seeing as he offers close to no resistance, Thompson grabs Tod in a back suplex position and casually lifts him up almost with one hand … only to not so gently sit him on the top turnbuckle. He confidently sets both feet on the second rope and resumes the back suplex position, as he effortlessly lifts up Tod…and sends him CRASHING down to the mat! Stevens: Folks, I've seen some back suplexes in my day; and THAT was a back suplex!! From the top rope, no less! Thompson wipes his hands clean and leans over onto Tod for the lateral press. ONE! TWO! THR-- Tod amazes just about everybody in the crowd by KICKING OUT! Riley: AH-HA! Laugh all you want, but my boy is STILL in this thing! Stevens: Well how 'bout that. Thompson can't help but raise an eyebrow at Tod's sudden resurgence. His only answer to that is taking a jog in the ropes and to NAIL the Tod right in the head with a massive big boot! Stevens: Still in this thing? Are ya sure? 'Cause I could've sworn I just saw some TEETH flying out. Riley: All right, enough! Come on, Tod The Bod!! The almost smiling Thompson drags Tod's lifeless body to the center of the ring as he contemplates a little high risk offense. He strolls over to a corner, where he gives out another quick cut throat signal to the cheering crowd. He begins a slow ascension of the ropes … Stevens: You gotta believe that if TNT hits whatever move he's got in mind, it will most definitely spell the end of Tod deKindes, Bobby! Unless he wants to play with him some more. Riley: This is the greatest tragedy since I found out I would be calling matches with you, Stevens!! I have never seen such a case of injustice perpetrated against one of the best wrestlers this company has ever seen!! Once up top, Thompson sees that Tod still hasn't budged. Spreading out his arms like an angel hell bent on destruction, he leaps off … Stevens: Diving headbutt, coming up!! … but seconds before impact, Tod has the know it all to PUT HIS KNEES UP! It results in an ugly collision between Thompson's head and Tod's knees. Riley: Now THAT'S what I call a counter, folks! Stevens: Good counter indeed, but TNT looks out of it, folks! His head hit Tod's knees pretty hard! As Billy Chioda fires up yet another ten count, Tod starts to stir back to life, while TNT tries to shake his double vision. Helping himself up with the ropes, Tod walks over to the downed Thompson and drops a leg to the back of his head for good measure. He grabs his arm and wraps him up in a La Majistral cradle as Chioda scurries into position! ONE! TWO! THR-- Strong kick out from TNT, who's still in this match despite the blow to the head. Tod muscles him up to his feet, via pulling of the dreads and then backing him into a corner. Irish whip to the opposite corner by Tod, as Thompson hits hard. Tod charges right away and -finally- hits that elusive corner spear! As TNT staggers forward holding, Tod tries to grab him and throw him overhead with a T-Bone suplex. Upon his feet leaving the ground, Thompson quickly throws a vicious elbow with his free arm, which allows him to free himself and connect with another HUGE clothesline that floors Tod down to the mat! Not as strong as a Burning Lariat though, as Tod quickly staggers back up to his feet, allowing Thompson to score with ANOTHER clothesline! And another! Stevens: Despite that blow to the head, TNT is on fire here, folks! As Tod staggers up to his feet one more time, Thompson is waiting in the wings, only to throw himself off the ropes and connect with a huge flying forearm! Stevens: And DOWN goes Tod! Riley: This looks bad for him! I hope he's got a Plan B!! With Tod down for good, Thompson bellows out a loud war cry as he sends one last cut throat signal, then stopping for a few seconds to shake out the dizzies. Riley: Something tells me TNT has got MORE than the Mushroom Cloud in mind, Stevens! Stevens: Could we see the ever so dangerous Detonation Drop, Bobby? If he busts this one out, we'll never see Tod again! Riley: He's still feeling groggy though! Thompson raises up Tod to his feet, lifting him up in the dreaded Torture Rack position! Stevens: Yes! He's going for it!! The crowd knows what's coming up and they're on their feet! Realizing the precarious position that he's in, Tod tries to wiggle free and successfully lands on his feet behind TNT! However his trick knee acts up, connecting with Thompson's little cherry bombs, doubling the big guy over. Tod quickly slithers out of the ring to grab a chair. Stevens: Hey come on now, what is he doing?! Riley: The man is obviously TIRED and wants to sit down!! Stevens: He's gonna get himself disqualified! Tod slithers back in, weapon in hand, under heavy warning from Billy Chioda. Aiming at the big Californian head, he mightily swings the chair … but it's intercepted by the referee!! After a bried tug of war session between the two, the chair ends up on the mat while Tod gives what for to the young referee. Thompson takes the advantage and charges with intentions of a running knee lift, but Tod MOVES, resulting in poor referee taking the blow. Stevens: And now the referee is down! What else could happen?! Riley: Good! He was starting to bug me! Tod uses the ensuing distraction to nail a solid kick to the gut on Thompson, as he runs through his arm through his legs while doing the Reverse Guns To The Head motion. Stevens: Spirit Breaker coming up!! Riley: Thank you, come again and SEE YA!! Tod struggles to lift up the big man on his shoulders and eventually does so, but now it's Thompson who struggles free and lands on his feet! Stevens: No, wait, it's countered! Thompson spins Tod around, nails him in the gut and thrusts his head into a standing head scissors! Stevens: Now we're gonna see the Mushroom Cloud for good this time! Riley: NO!!! He's gonna powerbomb him on that chair!! Hey ref, wake up!! As Billy Chioda starts to wake up, Thompson lifts up the Torontonian with ease, but Tod counters THAT and drops to his feet! Thinking quick, he makes like a Rockette and shatters TNT's dreams of having kids as he field goal kicks the hell out of the little grenades. Thompson staggers around in agony, as he doesn't notice Tod sneaking up behind him, hooks him in a reverse DDT position, hooks his near leg with his own and fucking PLANTS him with a DDT/legsweep combo!! The sick smack of Thompson's head on the chair resonates throughout the arena. Stevens: What kinda move is THAT?! Riley: THAT is what Tod calls the DVX which has the strength of TEN piledrivers combined! You do NOT get up from this!! Stevens: The back of TNT's head just DENTED that chair! And now Tod's gonna steal this one!! Dammit!! Seeing that Chioda is almost back up, Tod makes sure to stash the evidence as he boots the chair out of the ring. He falls on top of the prone Thompson, hooking whatever he can; legs, tights, as Chioda gingerly gets into position. Stevens: No!! Come on, dammit!! Riley: Woooo!! ONE! TWO! THREE!! Stevens: What a damn CRIME!! Bell rings, as the Marilyn Manson fires up. Tod scurries out of the ring, while Funyon makes it official. Funyon: Here is your winner: Tod - deeeeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeeeesss!! Riley: WHAT DID I TELL YOU!! Tod makes his grand return to the ring, WINS and TNT ends up with a headache!! Holding the back of his head, Tod raises a fist in triumphant glory, as he gingerly retreats to the back under a heavy shower of boos. Stevens: Meanwhile, TNT has taken a nasty blow to the back of the head and he STILL hasn't gotten up! Riley: BooHOO!! Stevens: Back after this!! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 As the During The Break logo is seen on-screen, the duo in the booth explain it all for us. A group of trainers can be seen helping a groggy TNT out of the ring. Stevens: During that last match, you saw Tod deKindes nail TNT with the DVX onto a chair, resulting in a severe blow to the back of the head of TNT, folks. And as you can see, Thompson needed a bit of help to get back to his dressing room where he'll surely need medical attention. Riley: That right there says a lot, Stevens. TNT can claim that he's come to play all he wants, but Tod deKindes does NOT play, he HURTS! He has beaten 3/4 of this roster and now he can add Taylor Nicholas Thompson to that list! Stevens: Well, there's no doubt that TNT is pretty tough, but he's definitely met his match tonight. We'll let you know if we get a word on him. Back after this. … Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 ------------------------------------------------- Inside the arena, Danny Williams walks the corridors with the Intercontinental Television title over his shoulder. The leader of the Unholy Trinity turns a corner... and runs right into the leader of Catch-22. "Beezel." says Williams curtly. "Friend Williams, how wonderful to see you before our match," says El Scorcho, "I wanted a word with you before we went out to the ring." "Fine, say your piece," says Williams, trying to avoid conversation as much as possible. "You know, I don't think people truly realize what it means for me to be masked," says Beezel, "They don't realize that for all they know I might be their best friend. They might have to face their brother, or father, or hell, perhaps their sister or mother. No one knows Friend Williams, not even you." Danny Williams rolls his eyes, nonplussed at his future opponent's rantings. "So?" asks the champion. "So, I'm here to warn you. A long time ago, in a land far away, we once battled. It's true Friend Williams, this will not be our first contest," says Beezel, enjoying the curiosity Williams is now showing, "And quite frankly from that experience, I don't buy this Unholy Trinity buisness at all. For all anyone knows, you're just a branch of the Magnificent Seven in disguise." "I AM NOT," yells Williams, "IN LEAGUE WITH HIM!" Beezel backs off after the outburst. "Fine, say what you will," says Beezel, "But your hands are still stained with the actions of your past. I still feel the effects of what you and the Magnificent Seven have done. And even if your motives are true you use the wrong path to accomplish your goals. Unlike the Catch-22..." "I'm paving the road instead of using someone else's," interrupts Williams, "That IS what you were going to say, am I right?" Both men stare into each other's eyes, anger beginning to fill the room. "I was afraid of this, you have no desire to see things my way," says Beezel, "So I will have to go ahead and teach you a lesson. Take note Friend Williams, kindly old Mister Beezel can be whoever the hell he wants to be. So tonight... I'm going to be your worst enemy and avenge the wrongs of the past. Enjoy the pain Friend Williams. Enjoy the pain." With that, Beezel steps out of the ICTV champion's way, allowing him passage. El Scorcho remains there, watching the corridor much after the champion has gone out of sight. "...I only hope I can succeed in my plans. I only hope, for this league." ----------------------------------- "What exactly was that supposed to mean, Mark?" asks Riley. "I don't know but these two are about to square off, NEXT!" exclaims Stevens. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 Stevens: Welcome back to SWF Lockdown! Coming up, right now, we’ve got the ICTV Title match between the champion, Danny Williams, and the challenger, Beezel! Riley: Bee Saw and Danny Williams, two men with the same delusion, or as they would call it, the same goal. That being to one day, dethrone Tom Flesher and the M7, but since that an’t gonna happen in this life time, there just gonna have to battle it out for second place. The capacity crowd populating the Continental Airlines Arena applaud Funyon as he enters the ring, dressed to kill as always. Funyon slides some index cards out of his pocket, reading them carefully like a he’s cramming for a test, absorbing the words into his brain so that he doesn’t have to read off them like a lazy teenager doing a class presentation. "I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon...." Suddenly, a sheet of red pyro lights up the entrance ramp like a Christmas tree! Where there’s fire, there’s smoke, a lot of it, covering the entrance ramp, and seeping through the arena like a supernatural fog invested with pirate ghosts. Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is for the ICTV Championship! Anxious for the match to finally start, the crowd pops like a weasel! Funyon: It is scheduled for one fall, and is set at a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 205 pounds, and hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, the challenger...................BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZEL!!! A figure can be seen stepping out of the smoke, a masked man, dressed like a pyromaniac ninja, emerging from the seclusion of the clouds. He has a microphone, and a lovely singing voice.... “I'm a lot like you, so please, hello... I'm here... I'm waaaaaiting.” Not letting Beezel have all the fun, the fans join in for the second line .... “I think I'd be good for you, and you would be good for me!” Stevens: Moments ago, the leader of Catch 22 had some interesting words for Danny Williams, warning him that he had mastered the mental aspect of fighting. Riley: Whatever, this from the guy who lost to a rookie, after making stupid mistake after stupid mistake. Stevens: However, if he can bring the ICTV Championship to his stable, it will more than make up for his short coming last week. Beezel’s ridicules theme song dies out, and is soon replaced by the smooth base line of In Flame’s “Jester Dance”. At the sound of the familiar music, the crowd instantly goes into a “DAN-E!” chant. Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 243 pounds, hailing from Louisville, Kentucky.........HE IS THE SWF ICTV CHAMPION.....DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! The curtains over the locker room entrance peel apart as the wide bodied ICTV Champion makes his way out on to the entrance ramp, igniting the cheers of the thousands in attendance. Looking proud and imposing, yet at the time a little nervous, Danny marches down to the ring, a bit quicker than usual, his title glaring around his waist. Stevens: Danny Williams also tasted defeat last week, falling to Justice and Rule in tag action. Riley: With a bad arm, Williams foolishly attempted to take all the burden upon himself, resulting in a humiliating defeat that had to shatter his confidence as a leader. Stevens: But if he can successfully defend his title against the leader of a rival stable, it will indeed, help to restore his shaky confidence and get him back on the right track. With both men in their corners and ready for action, Soapdish calls for the bell! DING! DING! DING! Excited about the start of the match, the crowd gives a brief ovation. Stevens: And were off, ICTV title and stable pride on the line! Looking to get this thing started, Beezel bounces out to the center of the ring, while Williams takes his time in getting there, knowing that time is on his side. Beezel holds his hands, flicking his fingers in search of a Greco Roman Knucklock. Not one to back down from a challenge, a delightfully surprised Danny holds out his hands in acceptance. Riley: Some genius, he’s gonna challenge that roid freak to a test of strength. Stevens: Hmmmmmmmmm. If Beezel can somehow win a test of strength against Danny, it could shatter the Champion’s confidence and give him the mental edge, but than again, he would have to WIN the test of strength to do that. Exercising great precaution, Williams and Beezel nervously lock hands, and start battling for position, bumping chests and what not. Considerably stronger than his challenger, it isn’t long before Danny gains the upper hand, twisting Beezel’s wrists around in a painful position. Williams cracks a smile, confident that he’s in control, when Beezel thrusts up his boot, kicking him in the abdomen! Out of breath, Danny’s grip loosens allowing Beezel to pull back his left hand, and wrench Williams’ right arm into a wristlock! In that same instant, Beezel steps to side, and fires a wild Hook Kick.... Swooooooooooosh! Williams ducks, but that’s just what Beezel wanted him to do! Taking advantage of Danny’s off balanced position, Beezel quickly dives behind him, hooking in arm between his legs, rolling him up with a School Boy! ONE! Williams kicks out and rolls to his feet in an attacking stance, but finds that Beezel is already up and ready, resulting in a stand off! Impressed, the crowd gives a brief ovation. Beezel taps his temple to let every one know that he out smarted Danny, getting a few more claps from the crowd. Stevens: Against Axis, Beezel came out swinging, forcing the tempo and offensive, but tonight, he seems much more restrained, letting the pinning predicaments come to him. Riley: I guess he figures that if all that jumping and flying didn’t work against Axis, than why should it work on Danny. Stevens: Perhaps this what Beezel meant by his comments earlier, a more patient and smarter approach in his wrestling. Instead of coming out with guns blazing, he’s taking his time, trying to match wits with his opponent, figure him out, rather than simply trying to overwhelm. The crowd quiets down as Beezel and Danny start circle one another, carefully eying each other up. Suddenly, stop their circling, and clash together in a collar elbow tie up! Neither man gains the advantage from a technical stand point, but the heavier and stronger Danny Williams easily backs Beezel into a nearby corner. “Break!” commands Soapdish. Williams cooly untangles his arms from the challenger... CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! catching Beezel off guard with a quick flurry of Elbow Smashes! Riley: Now this is what Danny needs to do, keep the smaller man at close range, and beat the piss out of him. Danny takes the stunned challenger by the wrist, and shoots him out of the corner with an Irish whip! Williams takes off as well, chasing after his speeding opponent, his arm drawn back for a Reverse Elbow! But to Danny’s surprise, Beezel drops to the mat, and suavely slides out of the ring, avoiding the turnbuckles! Williams puts the breaks on just in time, coming with inches of crashing into the corner! Danny looks out the side of the ring for Beezel, but the challenger has already swung around the ring post, and stealthily rolled back into the ring undetected! Stevens: Beezel, using a combination of speed and brains to avoid being pan caked in the corner! Confused, Williams cluelessly spins back around, finding Beezel hurrying to his feet. Looking to cut him off, Williams charges, swinging out his thick arm for a..... Stevens: WESTERN LARIAT! that is ducked! Beezel catches Williams in a rear waistlock, runs him into the ropes, and rolls back, folding Danny up with the Reverse Rollup! Stevens: A SECOND FLASH PIN ATTEMPT, WILL IT BE ENOUGH! ONE! TWO! NO! Danny kicks Beezel off with his powerful legs, sending the challenger bolting into the ropes! Williams scrambles to his feet, only to drop back to the mat, when Beezel comes rocketing off the ropes at him! Beezel hurdles over Danny, who leaps back to his feet, hoping to catch him on the rebound, but he isn’t quick enough, having to leap frog over the challenger as he comes flying back! Finally, ready for Beezel, Williams draws back his arm to catch him with a big elbow as he comes speeding in..... Swooooooooooooooooosh! but it’s ducked! Now moving at a blinding speed, Beezel hits the ropes one more time, catching Williams as he twists around with a dazzling Flying Head Scissors! Stevens: Beezel is increasing the tempo, which clearly plays into his favor! Riley: He who controls the tempo of the match, wins the match. More pissed than hurt, Williams jumps back to his feet, but Beezel is already on top of him, taking him over with a traditional Head Scissor Takedown! Dizzy and a little sore, Williams is slow to his feet, giving Beezel plenty of time to eye him up. Once Danny is up, Beezel jogs in front of him, pulls up, and.... SMACK! drives his boots into his chest with a stiff Dropkick! The impact of which, knocks Danny clean out of the ring, and down to the floor! Sensing a high spot, the fans rise out of their chairs with excitement. Beezel doesn’t disappoint, spring boarding over the top rope, catching Danny with a Body Press as he gets up! Both men are briefly down, and the crowd takes the opportunity to give a big reception. Stevens: And Beezel successfully scores with a Pescado! Riley: I guess old habits, die hard. Stevens: Not really, Riley. Beezel let Williams be the aggressor in the early going, forcing him to make the first mistake, thereby creating the opportunity for some high flying moves. Beezel drags Danny up by his wrist, and sends him crashing him to the guardrail with an Irish whip! CLANK! To the delight of the crowd, Beezel acrobatically cartwheels forward, driving a Jumping Reverse Elbow into Danny’s chest! Stevens: BEAUTIFUL HANDSPRING ELBOW! Williams drops to his hands and knees, holding his chest and flinching with every breath. Stevens: If you recall, Beezel went for the Handspring Elbow a tad to early against Axis, and ended up losing control of the match. But tonight, his timing is just so much more precise and crisp, he was able to nail it with no trouble. Riley: When Beezel is hitting all his moves like this, he is indeed dangerous, and Danny needs to kill his momentum, perhaps a low blow or a crouching of some sort. Beezel slides back into the ring, and to the amazement of the crowd, starts climbing the turnbuckles. Beezel balances himself on the top rope, carefully eyeing his prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. That moment comes when Danny staggers to his feet, and takes a few steps away from the guardrail. Without a second to lose, Beezel takes the plunge, crash landing into Danny with a body attack! Stevens: AND HERE’S THE PLANCHA, BEEZEL IS ON FIRE! Showing their appreciation for Beezel’s relentless attack, the crowd begins to chant.... “EL-SCORCH-O! EL-SCORCH-O! EL-SCORCH-O!” The under arms of suit now visibly wet, Beezel pushes his way back to his feet, his hard breaths echoing through the arena thanks to the voice amplifier on his mask. Beezel drags the champion up, and tosses him back into the ring. Instead of re-entering the ring, Beezel bravely opts to climb the turnbuckles instead, in preparation for another high risk maneuver. The fans remain standing and screaming as Beezel reaches his designation, homing in on Danny Williams, who is blindly staggering to his feet. As soon as Danny reaches a vertical base, Beezel leaps down at him, twisting his body horizontally for the.... Stevens: FLYING BODY PRESS! but Williams sees him coming, and hits the deck, letting Beezel fly over head, and belly flop on the mat! KA-BOOM! Screaming in anguish, Beezel violently rolls around on the mat, his arms tightly wrapped around his rib cage. Worried, Soapdish inspects Beezel, trying to determine if he’s too injured to go on or not. Riley: Beezel pushed his luck to far that time, taking one dive to many. Stevens: It looks like he may have injured himself as well, which if is the case, is truly misfortunate. Riley: The hell it is, that’s the price you pay when you take too many risks in this business. Williams takes the time to shake the cob webs lose, and to his surprise finds that Beezel is still down and hurt. Looking to capitalize on Beezel’s misfortune, Williams bends over, and starts to pull the challenger up by his mask. Suddenly, Beezel hooks Danny’s head, and rolls back with an Inside Cradle! Sevens: HE WAS PLAYING POSSUM! Caught off guard, the surprised official hits the deck, and starts the count! ONE! TWO! NO! Williams narrowly escapes with a kick out, but finds himself trapped in a rear chinlock before he can get back on his feet. The crowd cools down as an exhausted looking Beezel cranks the chinlock, hoping to by himself a breather, while keeping the heat on the champion. Riley: Beezel is bringing a heavy dose of mind games tonight, keeping Danny off balance with an assortment of roll ups and cradles. Stevens: Every time Danny thinks he’s got Beezel right where he wants him, boom, it get’s turned into a pin attempt. That kind of think can shatter a wrestler’s confidence, causing him to second guess himself, and when your in the ring there simply isn’t time to think, you have to act and act fast. Riley: Beezel’s assault tonight is like the devil’s in the Exorcist, it is strong and it is mental. This is a test of Danny’s confidence, if he can’t stay head strong, than he may end up dropping the title, tonight. Losing more and more energy with every passing second, Williams desperately fights his way to a vertical base, forcing Beezel to adjust the chinlock into a more appropriate side headlock. Looking to create some space, Williams starts slamming the back of his elbow into Beezel’s abdomen! Not completely faking the injury a few moments ago, the elbows send surges of pain through Beezel’s brittle ribs! Having softened Beezel up, Williams has no trouble in walking him into the ropes, forcing the break. Beezel reluctantly lets go, of course, he gets kneed in the gut for his trouble! “Boooooooooooooo!” Ignoring the disapproval of the crowd, Williams shoots Beezel of the ropes with an Irish whip, catching him in an Abdominal Stretch as he bounces back. Beezel’s cries of agony get muffled as Danny smartly links his hands around his mouth with a tight facelock. Stevens: Williams, wisely going to a low key wear down hold, looking to zap that fiery energy out of the challenger. Beezel begins fighting his way towards the ropes, reaching for them with his free hand, but the pressure of carrying Danny’s body weight with him proves to be too much, and he has to stop way short of his goal. Growing weaker and weaker, Beezel collapses to one knee, and than both knees. Feeling he’s done all he can with the Abdominal Stretch, Williams releases it, but is quick to take hold of Beezel’s wrists, stretching his arms out behind him. Danny plants a boot in Beezel’s back, and begins yanking on his arms, putting unbearable pressure on his back and shoulders. Stevens: And Williams beautifully transitions that Abdominal Stretch into a Surfboard Stretch. Riley: Hey, I’ve seen Danny do this before, the Iron Man match against Mak Francis right? Stevens: Yes, if you remember, Williams couldn’t break the Franchise’s spirit with the hold, and he was able to escape it, and go on to win the match. Let’s see if Beezel shows the same amount of heart and determination that the Franchise showed. With strenuous snarls projecting from his face mask, Beezel fights his way back to his feet, forcing Williams to remove his boot from his back. Beezel attempts to walk to the ropes, but Williams anchors him down in the center of the ring, shaking his head to the crowd as if to say,”he’s not getting off that easy”. Knowing what he has to do, Beezel takes a couple of deep breaths, and with a scream of effort beings pushing his arms forward like he’s doing butterfly curls. Stevens: Beezel, attempting to turn out of the Surfboard, reversing it. Riley: But he has his work cut out for him, considering how much more powerful Danny is. Stevens: It really doesn’t have as much to do with who’s stronger as it has to do with who has more heart, who wants it more. After all, it’s just as hard to keep someone in a standing Surfboard, as it to his power out. Both men are literally dripping sweat now, as they battle out it for control of the hold, pushing their body to it’s limits. The crowd begins to get behind the challenger yet again, chanting his nick name.... “EL-SCORCH-O! EL-SCORCH-O! EL-SCORHO!” Feeding off the energy of the crowd, Beezel manages brings his arms out to his sides, leading him to the next step in escape, having to turn around and reverse the hold. Trembling with strain, Beezel again lets out a piercing cry as he starts bringing his right arm up towards his head, while Williams laboriously tries to shove it back down. The crowd starts to warm up as Beezel starts to gain the upper hand, but Williams gets his second win, silencing the audience as he starts to forcefully pushes Beezel’s arm back down to his side. Beezel tries to fight it, but he can’t match Danny’s strength, and soon, he’s right back were he started in the Standing Surfboard. Exhausted and out of ideas, Beezel drops to his knees, hanging his head in shame. Riley: And it seems that Williams has broken Beezel’s fighting spirit, succeeding in wearing the challenger down. Keeping Beezel’s arm stretched out, and pointing towards the sky, Williams viciously pushes forward on them, attempting to break them off! The crowd gasps in horror at the sickening sight while Beezel kicks his boots into the mat, the only means of expressing the extreme pain he is in. Williams continues to push on his arms, leaning forward, until Beezel has no choice but to roll forward on to his neck and shoulders, allowing Danny to set on his thighs, holding him down in a pinning predicament. Stevens: HERE’S THE PIN! ONE! TWO! NO! Beezel kicks his legs out, launching Danny off of him! Stevens: And it seems that Beezel still has some fighting spirit left! He’s just not gonna lay down and die with the pride of his stable on the line. Beezel wearily attempts to climb to his feet, but Williams in on him flash, dragging him up with a front facelock. Danny slings Beezel’s arm over his shoulder, grabs some tights, and lifts.... Stevens: Vertical Suplex coming up! but Beezel jumps out of Danny’s clutches, and lands on his feet behind him! Beezel takes off for the ropes, getting a good bounce, bulleting back at Danny as he twists around..... SMACK! Beezel tears Williams’ head off with a jaw dropping Flying Lariat, drawing a big pop from the crowd! Riley: Ouch, he got some big time air on that one! Stevens: Thinking that Beezel was worn down and broken, Williams may have got a bit to confident when trying for the Vertical Suplex. Still on the mat, Beezel rolls out on to the ring apron, where he groggily sits up on one knee, watching Danny. Rubbing his throat like he’s got something caught in it, Williams staggers to his feet. Upon seeing this, Beezel frantically pulls himself up with the ropes, knowing what’s on his mind, the fans rise out of their chairs in anticipation of the spring board attack that cometh! Camera flashes light up the arena as Beezel spring boards on the top rope, and launches himself at Danny as he get’s up.... SMACK! nailing him in the back of the head with a nasty Dropkick! Stevens: SPRING BOARD DROP KICK! Still fatigued, Beezel slowly crawls over to Williams, and drags him up in a standing head scissors! Beezel links his hands around the champion’s stomach, and starts taking several deep breaths, summoning his power while the pumped crowd gives a continuous pop. Stevens: BEEZEL, LOOKING FOR THE THUNDER FIRE BOMB! Riley: That’s the move that beat Ejiro, giving Beezel the biggest victory of his second career, surely it can be enough to put Danny down! His costume now almost completely wet with sweat, Beezel bends his knees low to the mat, and..... “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” powers Danny off the mat! Stevens: HE’S GOT HIM UP! But Williams plants his boots back on the mat, immediately sand bagging! Beezel doesn’t give up, pulling Danny up by his tights, and clamping his arms around him yet again! The sound of rumbling feet echoes through the arena like distant thunder, encouraging Beezel to try again! “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAA!” Beezel triumphantly hoists Williams up on to his shoulder, but he can’t keep his hands locked around his waist, allowing the Champion to slide down his back and land on his feet! Before Beezel can turn around, Williams lunges forward.... SMAAAAACK! slamming his heavy left arm into the back of the challenger’s neck with a spine shattering Lariat! Stevens: ENZUI WESTERN LARIAT! Danny and Beezel both go down with the momentum, and the Unholy Trinity supporters finally come out of their shells with an ear shattering applause! His hands locked around the back of his neck, Beezel thrashes about on the mat, grimacing in pain. Meanwhile, Danny climbs back to his feet, takes position near the ropes, and rotates his left arm to his side drawing some whistles and hollers from the crowd. Stevens: Danny, sizing Beezel up for a Western Lariat. Suddenly, Williams has second thoughts, and stomps his way over to Beezel, but the sight of the challenger in seizure like pain confuses him. Riley: Uh, what’s going on? Stevens: The last time Danny tried the Western Lariat, he nearly got pinned, and now he’s even scared to try to pick Beezel up. It would appear that Beezel’s early mind games has gotten into Danny’s head, and he no longer trusts what he sees. Instead of attacking, Williams hesitates, studying Beezel with uncertainty. After some careful pondering, Williams finally decides to take the risk. Danny grabs Beezel by his mask, and jerks him up to his feet, but to his surprise he once again finds his shoulders pinned to the mat with a surprise inside cradle! Stevens: HE TRICKED HIM TWICE! This time, the excited fans count along, with Soapdish! ONE! TWO! TWO1/2..... But Williams shifts his weight over on top of Beezel, reversing the cradle into one of his own to the astonishment of the crowd! Stevens: DANNY OUTSMARTED HIM, HE KNEW WHAT BEEZEL WAS UP TO, IT WAS A TRICK ALONG! ONE! TWO! TWO1/2.... THREE! NO! Beezel kicks out at the last possible second! Now free, Beezel rushes to his feet...... SMAAAAAACK! only to get leveled with a Western Lariat! Riley: AND DANNY DIDN’T HESITATE THAT TIME! The crowd roars as Williams yanks Beezel up by his mask, and stuffs his head between his legs in a standing head scissors! The crowd explodes as Williams links his hands around Beezel’s stomach, and lifts him up with ease! Stevens: POWERBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM-NO! Beezel grapevines his legs around, Danny’s head, and drops back, taking the champion over with a shocking Hurricanrana! Danny pops right back up, charging Beezel as he scrambles to his feet! Williams draws back his arm, and swings his elbow at Beezel’s jaw... Stevens: RUNNING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOW! but Beezel ducks down behind him, tying Danny up with a Full Nelson! In a flash, Beezel snaps back, driving the back of Williams’ skull into the mat! CRUUUUNCH! Beezel bridges on his tippy toes, holding Danny in place for the pin! Stevens: DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGON SUPLEX! Riley: Beezel knew Danny had stopped hesitating on his charges, so he lured him into a trap! At the top of their lungs, the fans howl long with Soapdish’s count! “ONE!” “TWO!” ..... “THREE!” Stevens: NEW CHAMPION! Riley: NO, HE’S GOT A FOOT UNDER THE ROPES! True to Riley’s words, Soapdish halts the count, citing that one of Williams’ boots is dangling under the second rope! Realizing his error, Beezel quickly releases Williams’ limp body from the bridge, rolls him over, and hooks his legs for the pin. Riley: He’s not giving up is he? Stevens: DANNY’S STILL OUT, SO HE MAY HAVE HIM THIS TIME! “ONE!” “TWO!” .......... “THREE!” NO! Williams wiggles a shoulder up, rolling out from underneath Beezel, and stopping until he drops off the ring apron, and flops on the floor. Beezel sits up, his eyes glaring with regret and disappointment. Stevens: Beezel had the ICTV Champion knocked out, Danny was out cold after that Dragon Suplex, but it was executed far too close to the ropes. Riley: That one error in judgement, may have cost Beezel the match, I don’t’ think he’ll get another opportunity like that. With the crowd egging him on, Beezel rolls out of the ring to retrieve the dazed World Champion. Snarling with frustration, Beezel drags the noodle legged Danny Williams to his feet, and rolls him back into the ring. Moving swiftly, Beezel slides back in after his ailing adversary, looking to strike while the iron is hot. Beezel controls Williams’ limp body up enough to position him in a standing head scissors, sending the crowd into a frenzy! Stevens: BEEZEL, POSITIONING DANNY WILLIAMS FOR THE THUNDER FIRE BOMB! Riley: In my opinion, if he hits this, the match is over. Beezel fills his lungs with much needed oxygen, while the vocal crowd shouts words of encouragement. Swelled up with air, Beezel dips knees, and lifts...... “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYA!” Despite looking he’s gonna give himself a hernia, Beezel lifts Danny’s bulky body up on his shoulder, and drops to his knees, slamming Williams upper back and head into the mat with a vicious, ring shattering Powerbomb! Stevens: THUNDER FIRE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!!!!! Williams folds in half upon impact, making it easy for Beezel to simply lean over him for the pin! The crowd goes nuclear as Soapdish starts the count! “ONE!” “TWO!” ........... “THREE!” Riley: IT’S OVER! But Williams proves otherwise, rolling out from underneath Beezel at the last possible second! Stevens: WHAT WAS ENOUGH TO FINISH EJIRO, CAN ONLY REGISTER A TWO AGAINST THE ICTV CHAMPION! Excited by the near fall, the fans nearly riot, jumping and down, while screaming as loud as they can. Mentally and psychically exhausted, Beezel rolls over on his back, his stomach pumping up and down. Williams just lays face down on the mat, not moving, and possibly not breathing. Riley: How in the hell did Danny survive that? Stevens: The only rational explanation would be that when he rolled out of the ring he was able to muster enough power to kick out of the move. If you recall, Ejiro took the Dragon Suplex and the Thunder Fire Bomb back to back, but Danny was able to break it up by bailing. The crowd is still jumping by the time a rejuvenated Beezel staggers back to his feet, hoping to put the final touches on his victory. In obvious deep thought, Beezel looks down at Williams, and than stares up the top turnbuckle. Stevens: Beezel, perhaps looking to finish Danny off with A METEOR SHOWER! However, Beezel doesn’t go upstairs, instead he shakes his head as to if say, “no, I don’t think I’ll be doing that”. Beezel starts dragging Williams up by his tights, while the puzzled fans watch on in curiosity. Riley: No, it looks he’s got something else in mind. Stevens: Beezel must have remembered how he had Axis finished last week, but when he went for the it ended up costing him the match. Beezel struggles to get Williams on his feet, clamping his hands around his neck with a Full Nelson! Stevens: HE’S GONNA DRAGON SUPLEX HIM AGAIN! Riley: IF HE CAN KEEP DANNY AWAY FROM THE ROPES, WE MAY HAVE A NEW CHAMPION! Danny frantically doubles over as far as he can, trying his best to prevent Beezel from bridging back for the deadly Suplex! Everyone in the building is standing and shouting, eager to see if Beezel will pull it off! Williams begins fighting his way to the ropes, dragging Beezel behind him, who is refusing to give up! But Beezel’s effort proves to be in vain as Danny manages to grab the ropes with both his hands, forcing the heart broken challenger to release the Full Nelson. Not giving up after coming so close to tasting victory, Beezel rips Danny off the ropes by his tights, securing him in a rear waistlock! Stevens: HE CAN’T GET THE DRAGON, SO HE’S GONNA TRY A GERMAN! Beezel bends his knees for the lift attempt, when... CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Williams slams his sharp elbow into his temple, over and over again! The pain is paralyzing, allowing Williams to slip out of his clutches, and hammer him with a Spinning Reverse Elbow! CRAAAAAAAAACK! Beezel drunkenly wobbles in place, giving Danny the only encouragement he needs, to spin in place, and.... CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! floor him with a big Elbow Smash! Stevens: ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! Beezel spirals to the mat, while Williams flops face down in the opposite direction! Williams’ supporters erupt with a thunderous ovation, threatening to shake the building to it’s very foundation! Riley: DOUBLE K.O., IT’S ANYBODIES MATCH NOW! Stevens: I don’t know, Danny took some serious bombs, but the Roll and Elbow just might be enough to swing the momentum his way. Glassy eyed, Williams crawls his way to the ropes, and begins using them to pull himself up. Getting nervous, Beezel’s supporters try to start a chant... “EL-SCORCH-O!” but Williams supporters quickly engulf it with a frantic chant of their own... “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” Despite his legs being rather shaky, Williams manages to get back on a vertical base, while the crowd goes wild! By this time, Beezel is also stumbling to his feet...... CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! only to get sent back to the mat with a jaw shattering Running Elbow! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” Beezel crumbles to the mat like all the life has been knocked out of his body, while Danny aimlessly wonders around like he forget what he was doing. As if he suddenly remembered where he was at, Williams quickly blankets Beezel for the pin! Stevens: IT WAS ENOUGH TO WIN HIM THE TITLE, BUT WILL THE RUNNING ELBOW BE ENOUGH TO DEFEND IT! “ONE!” “TWO!” ........... “THREE!” NO! Beezel resiliently shoots an arm up, igniting the crowd of hopefuls! Riley: No, It’s a lot harder to hold on to a title than it is to win it! Williams sighs as he drags Beezel up, trapping his head between his thighs in a standing head scissors! Williams links his hands around Beezel’s gut, and without hesitation hoists him up on to his shoulders, but just as before, Beezel grapevines Danny’s head and throws his weight back! Stevens: POWERBOOOOOOOOOOM-NO HURRICANRANA! Beezel flips back to the mat, but Danny doesn’t come with him, his legs weren’t weak enough to stay around the Champion’s neck! Riley: Beezel was looking to shift the momentum the same way he did earlier, but this time, he doesn’t have the strength! Williams drops back into the ropes, and Beezel stumbles to his feet, Danny explodes off them..... CRAAAAACK! knocking Beezel silly with a Jumping High Kick! Stevens: DYNAMIC KICK! Before Beezel can go down, Williams violently stuffs his head between his legs, and quickly rips him off the mat! Danny doesn’t even wait for Beezel to make on to his shoulders, before swiftly and deeply doubling over.... KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! viciously slamming the challenger into the mat by his legs! Stevens: POWERBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!!!!! In one fluid motion, Danny folds Beezel’s broken body in half, and slides down his thighs for the pin, making sure to lift both his boots off the mat, pushing his entire body weight down on his crushed adversary! “ONE!” “TWO!” .......... “THREE!” DING! DING! DING! Stevens: DANNY WILLIAMS RETAINS! The “Jester’s Dance” hits the loud speakers, and Danny Williams rolls off Beezel, letting his legs spring back to their natural position below him. Funyon: The winner of the match, and STILL YOUR ICTV CHAMPION.....DANNY WILLIAMS!!! The crowd blows the roof off the place, except for a few Catch 22 fans who refuse to cheer. Riley: We thought that Danny’s insecurities might cost him the victory, but in a ironic twist it was Beezel who let his fears over come him. Stevens: Indeed, while precaution can be a good thing, Beezel handicapped himself considerably, forgetting that his speedy risk taking offense was his best hope of beating Danny. Fans, stay tuned! Because up next, we’ve got Flesher taking on the Strangler! Riley: Oh, I can’t wait, lord! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Grand Slam Report post Posted May 29, 2003 The Continental Airlines Arena in Rutherford, New Jersey explodes into cheers as SWF Lockdown returns from commercial. The crowds begin to die down, but immediately explode again as the Boston Strangler appears on the SmarkTron™, with Ben Hardy at his side. “ Looks like Strangler has something to say. We’re just seconds away from the start of this match, so whatever it is must be pretty important” states Grand Slam, who looks up at the SmarkTron™, intently awaiting Strangler’s remarks. “Strangler probably wants to ask Tom to forfeit right now, and I can’t say I blame him” says Riley. “I mean, even I, an SWF legend, wouldn’t want to get in the ring with Tom Flesher!” “I’m sure that’s it, Riley. Incredible detective work.” Ben Hardy looks at the camera, waiting for his signal as Strangler looks ahead confidently. Finally, the crowd dies down enough, giving Ben Hardy his opening. “Right now, I’m backstage with the Boston Strangler, who will square off against Tom Flesher just moments from now in a highly anticipated match. Strangler, how do you feel going into this match, which you’ve surely been looking forward to for months?” The Boston Strangler reaches over and takes the mic from Ben Hardy, who steps into the background of the camera shot. Strangler looks straight into the camera and pauses for a few seconds. His eyes betray a hint of anticipation, but the look is quickly replaced by a hardened stare. Finally, Strangler begins. “Ben, I’m really looking forward to this match. I’ve made my feelings towards Tom Flesher perfectly clear over the last few weeks. He’s an evil, evil human being who’s focused on nothing but himself. He needs to be stopped. And tonight, I’m ready to go out there and derail Flesher. Tonight marks the beginning of the end of Tom Flesher’s run of destroying everyone who gets in his path. Tom will never get the chance to betray his friends again.” Ben Hardy leans over and speaks into the mic, which is still in Strangler’s hands. “Well, there are a lot of people backstage, as well as in our audience tonight, not to mention those who are watching at home, who would love nothing more than to see you go out there and take out Tom Flesher once and for all. However, I have to ask, how exactly do you plan on stopping Tom Flesher? Look at his hit list over the past few months: El Luchadore Magnifico, Frost, TNT, Danny Williams, and Jay Dawg. That’s an incredibly impressive list, and these men wrestle a variety of styles. How do you think that you can exploit Tom Flesher’s weaknesses in a way that these men haven’t?” Strangler’s eyes light up at the question. He leans the mic back over towards him, with his hardened stare piercing the camera once again. “Well Ben, as you mentioned earlier, I had a LONG absence from the SWF. In fact, I was gone from September of 2002 to this month, May of 2003. After I got out of rehab and got resigned, I had months to train, and to prepare myself for my return. But when I trained, I had a different focus. I wasn’t just trying to get into ring shape. I was trying to round myself into a competitor that could beat Tom Flesher. I worked out for months, trying to get my old strength back, but also learning everything I could about Tom Flesher. I watched him beat Magnifico, I watched him take out TNT and Frost, and I saw him beat Danny and JD in person. I studied every move he made, every match he’s fought in the last four months. And, as all those men who fought Flesher and lost have found out, Tom Flesher doesn’t have all that many weaknesses. That’s why he’s still the champion. So I’m not going to attack his weaknesses. I’m going to attack his strengths.” With that, Strangler shoves the mic into Hardy’s stomach and begins to walk away. Hardy starts after Strangler, obviously confused. “Strangler! What do you mean by that? Attack his strenghts?” Strangler just continues to head towards the entrance ramp, leaving Hardy behind with a puzzled look on his face as the camera changes to a shot of Riley and Mark Stevens. “Stevens, what the hell is Strangler talking about? Attacking Flesher’s STRENGTHS? What kind of idiot goes after a person’s strengths?” Stevens appears equally puzzled, but tries to find an explanation. “Strangler’s obviously done a lot of research on Tom Flesher, so I can only believe that he has a very good idea of what he’s doing, but still…” “That’s crap! Strangler’s never had a very good idea of anything in his life! Why, if that brain-dead idiot was here right now, I’d tell him what an idiot he was to his face!” Suddenly, the arena goes dark as “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult kicks in over the speakers. The crowd explodes into cheers once again as the song launches into the opening guitar riff. The SmarkTron™ lights up with the name “STRANGLER” in big white letters as a massive burst of white pyro explodes from the stage. As the pyro begins to die down, Strangler emerges from the pyro. He raises one fist into the air as he looks out onto the crowd, then slowly begins to walk down the ramp. Funyon: “This match is tonight’s MAIN EVENT, and it is scheduled for ONE FALL! First, making his way to the ring, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, weighing in at 303 POUNDS, he is THE BOSTON….STRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!” “You were saying, Riley?” “Tom will speak for me when he tools on Strangler and sends him back to the midcard.” Strangler reaches the bottom of the ramp and rolls into the ring underneath the bottom rope. He lumbers up to his feet and walks over to the corner before hopping up onto the second turnbuckle. A huge explosion of flashbulbs go off as Strangler raises both fists into the air, with a fierce look on his face. Strangler hops down and steps into the center of the ring as he anticipates the arrival of a man he’s wanted to face for nine months. Suddenly, the SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" on it. The crowd changes quickly, as boos quickly fill the arena. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN." Flesher enters the ring and poses in the center head bobbing in time with the music. As the music picks up, pyro goes off in the ring. Funyon: “And his opponent, hailing from BUFFALO, NEW YORK, weighing in at 213 POUNDS, he is the SWF WORLD CHAMPION and the greatest friend a guy can ever have, the Superior One, TOM…..FLESSSSSSSSSSSSSHER!” Flesher golf-claps for himself, ignoring the crowd's boos, and then strips off his warmup suit. He folds it, sets it in the corner and begins to stretch himself out. Strangler stares straight at Tom, who ignores the massive Bostonian as he goes through his pre-match routine. Finally, he straightens up and nods to the referee, who signals for the bell, sending the crowd into a frenzy. DING DING DING!!!! Tom and Strangler meet up in the center of the ring, standing toe to toe. Flesher looks upward at Strangler, trying to ignore the nearly one-foot difference in their height, and shoves his adversary backward. Strangler steps back, more for a show than because Flesher actually knocked him off-balance. Flesher lowers his center of gravity, capitalizing on the space between himself and his opponent, and shoots in for a low single-leg takedown! Strangler sees it coming, though, and simply swings his leg backwards to keep it out of Flesher’s hands! With that, he dives forward and drops an elbow down between Flesher’s shoulderblades! Tom flattens out, a grimace of pain on his face, and Strangler grabs him by the head to lift him back to his feet. “Flesher starts off the match in predictable fashion,” says Mark Stevens. “He dropped right down for an ankle pick, and the Boston Strangler was expecting it. He’s been watching Flesher’s films for the past few months, Bobby.” “Bah,” says Riley dismissively. “Flesher just wasn’t expecting Strangler to be ready, so he got caught off-guard. No big deal.” Strangler yanks Flesher to his feet and sends him hard into the turnbuckles! Flesher hits sternum-first, then staggers backwards with the wind knocked out of him. He turns around, only to have his gigantic rival hammer him across the neck with a knife-edge chop! Flesher collapses to the mat, and Strangler immediately drops onto him for ONE! but Tom kicks out before the official can even get to two. Strangler gets back to his feet, stepping back as Tom gets up. He grabs the World Champion by the arm and sends him off to the side of the ring with an Irish whip. On the rebound, Tom comes up with a quick plan and jumps into the air to go for a dropkick to the knee. Strangler anticipates it, though, and counters it by sprawling backwards and dropping onto Flesher with a headbutt to the midsection! The fans cheer as Strangler shows off his ability to pick up on Flesher’s moves, and Grand Slam points out, “Strangler’s showing remarkable agility!” “He tripped.” “He tripped into a perfectly-executed headbutt to the gut?” “Yeah, what’s it to you?” Stevens sighs as the Boston Strangler stands up, grabbing the much-smaller Superior One and lifting him to his feet as well. Quickly, he hoists Tom onto his shoulders into a fireman’s carry, and the fans pop for the big man’s early attempt at a devastating Samoan drop! He holds Flesher on his shoulders, but the World Champion shifts his weight and slides down the Strangler’s back. Before the Boston native knows quite what’s happening, Flesher grabs his left arm and falls to the mat, locking on a Fujiwara armbar! The fans boo as Strangler finds himself face-down on the mat, with Flesher torquing his left arm. “Flesher hits a move out of nowhere,” says a smug Bobby Riley. “I bet Strangler wasn’t expecting that one.” “Tom does indeed hit something a little unorthodox for what we usually see from him, but it’s still early on.” Flesher continues putting pressure on Strangler’s arm and shoulder as the giant moves toward the side of the ring. Tom tries to hold him back, but his 213-pound body is no match for Strangler’s enormous frame, and the Boston Strangler is able to use his free arm and legs to pull himself to the ropes without any trouble. He grabs the strand, and the referee counts ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, Flesher releases the armbar and quickly springs to his feet. Strangler gets to his knees first, only to be met with a dropkick to the shoulder! He rocks backwards, but balances on the ropes. Flesher grabs the left arm, fully extending it and applying a wristlock. As Strangler continues to hold the middle rope, Flesher unloads a stiff kick to the underside of his arm! The referee tries to usher Flesher away, but he keeps the arm and again hammers under the shoulder! As the referee moves to physically shoving Flesher off, he lands one more vicious kick under the arm and backs away. Strangler pauses to shake out the arm, and then moves toward the center to meet up with Tom. Tom backs into a classic Greco-Roman stance, offering a knuckle lock to the much-stronger wrestler. “Flesher, going for a test of strength despite the obvious disadvantage,” says Stevens. “I’ve got to assume he’s just going to try to further work on that left arm.” “Pfft. Flesher’s got superior technique, and he’s going to put it to use. Why else would he do something like that?” “Embarrass the guy who thinks he’s in control, I’d say.” “Says you, woman.” Strangler steps in, grabbing Flesher’s hands and immediately trying to power him down to his knees. Flesher, however, releases Strangler’s right hand and doubles up on the left wrist. He spins around, twisting the arm over his head and jerking it downward. Strangler grimaces and falls to his knees, at which point Tom begins ruthlessly kicking his shoulder again! Flesher lands one last stiff kick to the shoulder, then spins. He wraps Strangler’s arm around his leg, then grabs the head and the right leg for a cradle. He somersaults forward with La Magistral! The crowd boos as the referee counts ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Strangler breaks the cradle and rolls away as Tom gets back to his feet. “Tom Flesher executes the Magistral cradle,” says Stevens, “a modified version of the Oklahoma roll that puts additional stress on the arm, and definitely an intelligent move for Flesher.” “Come on, you say that like Flesher’s ever any less. He’s put a great deal of thought into this match plan.” “To the contrary, the Boston Strangler put a lot of thought into the match plan by watching some of Flesher’s old matches, especially those against Frost. By seeing how Flesher reacted to a man with a similar build and fighting style, the Strangler’s forcing Tom to improvise.” “Improvise? Flesher knows exactly what he’s doing. This is how he beat El Luchadore Magnifico for his #1 Contendership! Guess the almighty Strangler didn’t see THAT match, huh?” Strangler starts to get to his feet, but Flesher jumps into the air and connects with a sitdown dropkick to the shoulder that sends Strangler reeling once again. Strangler falls back to one knee, and the cocky World Champion stands up and struts over. He pauses to bitchslap his challenger across the back of the head, then drops down to apply a tight side headlock. Immediately, the crowd bursts into a chorus of boos. “And as always, when Flesher has to come up with something on the fly, he goes for a resthold,” says Stevens with more than a hint of disgust in his voice. “He can’t think more than two steps ahead, so he has to rely on silliness like this.” “I wish you’d listen once in a while,” sighs Riley. “I’m not saying this stuff for my own health. Flesher’s side headlock isn’t a resthold! It’s a way of fatiguing the neck and making the opponent carry Flesher’s weight for a few minutes!” “Even so, it’s not like the fans want to see this.” The fans evidently agree with Stevens, as they begin a chant of “BOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOORING!” Nevertheless, Flesher continues cranking the hold as the Boston Strangler starts back up to his feet. Tom feels Strangler setting up a counter, so he rolls to the side and executes a picturesque side headlock takeover! The referee counts ONE! TWO! but Strangler rolls to the side to break the pin. He nearly presses Flesher’s shoulders to the mat with the roll-through, but the World Champion shifts his weight and continues rolling until he ends up in a seated position. He smirks, ready to spend the next few minutes there fatiguing his opponent. He fails to figure in Strangler’s strength, however. The Boston Strangler locks his hands around Flesher’s waist and, without a second thought, powers to his feet. Flesher tightens his grip on the Strangler’s head, but the powerhouse from New England lifts him into the air like a rag doll and falls backwards, slamming Flesher’s shoulders to the mat with a backdrop suplex! He even bridges and holds Flesher for ONE! TWO!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!! The crowd issues a collective sigh as Flesher rolls out of the hold, but Strangler stands back up. He cracks his neck and shakes out his left arm, then stalks over to Flesher, who he lifts up by the head again. This time, he pulls Tom’s head all the way over so hard that he does a complete flip and lands hard on his back! Strangler starts to stomp on Flesher’s chest, but the World Champion rolls away and hides in the relative safety of a corner as the crowd boos. “Flesher’s such a coward,” says Grand Slam. “This is just unbelievable. He’ll attack the man when he’s on the ropes or not quite conscious, but he won’t take a beating like a man.” “That may be the dumbest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth, Stevens. Why would Flesher want to sit up and take a beating if he can avoid it? He’s a smart man. I’m a smart man. We understand it. Why don’t you?” “Well, I-” “I know what you are, Stevens, and it’s not pretty.” Strangler sees Flesher bailing to the corner and starts toward him. Flesher realizes too late that he should have gone to the floor instead, and stands up to try to defend himself. He throws a shotei at his attacker, but Strangler simply brushes him aside! The crowd cheers as Strangler slams a hard right hand into Flesher to silence him, and then drives his knee into the World Champion’s abdomen. Tom gets knocked into the air by the force of the kneelift and has to hold on tightly to the ropes to avoid going over the top rope. The fans cheer even louder as Strangler repeats the motion, doubling Flesher over in pain! “The Boston Strangler is taking control,” says Mark Stevens. “He’s just slaughtering Flesher using counters to neutralize the World Champion’s offense and then his incredible power to damage him.” The fans continue cheering, and Strangler steps back for a second to acknowledge them. Tom Flesher, injured as he is, sees an opportunity and drops down to hit a low single-leg! Strangler sees it coming, but not soon enough to avoid it. Instead, he drops down and grabs Flesher around the waist, then lifts him powerfully into the air. Flesher releases the grip on Strangler’s leg to avoid being dropped unprotected onto his head, and Strangler follows through with a gutwrench suplex that sends Tom crashing to the mat! Strangler covers for ONE!!! TWO!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!! Flesher gets his shoulder up and tries to roll to his stomach, but the scorned Bostonian reaches down and grabs him tightly by the throat. Flesher’s 18-inch neck is enclosed fully with no problem by the Boston Strangler’s enormous hand, and the Strangler lifts Flesher onto his feet and into the air for a chokeslam! “THE PLUNGE, coming up!” says Mark Stevens. “Strangler’s just so strong, he can lift Flesher up no sweat!” Flesher dangles in the air as the crowd pops for Strangler, the challenger ready to slam Flesher to the mat for the deciding blow! Flesher has other plans, though, and hooks Strangler’s arm, shifting his weight and rolling to the side with a Peterson roll! He comes up on top, hooking the astonished Strangler’s leg for ONE!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!! “What a counter!” says Bobby Riley. “Flesher busts out that Peterson roll once in a blue moon, but it sure serves him well! He almost got the pin with it!” “He didn’t, though, and the match continues!” “Pfft. It was a slow count.” “It was not!” “Stop being so irrational.” Strangler breaks the pin by rolling to the side, but Flesher keeps his grip on the left arm. The challenger starts to his feet, but Flesher begins once again slamming his Doc Martens into his arm! Strangler grimaces and stays on his knees as Flesher assaults the arm, hammering it with kick after kick after kick. Finally, Tom takes a step back and releases the arm, then slams into the side of Strangler’s head with a Yakuza kick! The crowd boos loudly as Strangler falls forward to his stomach. “Absolutely vicious Yakuza kick,” cringes Stevens. “Flesher’s showing no mercy toward the Boston Strangler, hoping to put him out of action and keep him from getting the title shot that Strangler considers a right.” “Of course, since Strangler’s not entitled to a shot in the first place, all Flesher’s doing is keeping the status quo,” replies Riley. “Can’t say I blame him. He’s made four successful title defenses, and a fifth will tie the record. I’d hope that fifth defense would be against someone memorable, not some second-rate schmuck like Albert.” Flesher straddles Strangler’s back, then starts to wedge his arm under the New Englander’s neck! The fans’ booing becomes even more intense as they see Flesher setting up the Superior Stretch Beta! Strangler, even in his semi-stunned state, tries to fight the hold off, but Flesher snakes his arm under the neck and locks on the deadly dragon sleeper! Strangler, seeing that the hold is already clinched, reaches up and grabs Flesher’s head, pulling it toward the mat. “Strangler showing a new way of neutralizing the hold,” says Stevens. “He’s pulling Flesher down to the mat to keep him from pulling the head back, and minimizing the the pressure Tom can put on his neck.” Strangler continues pulling downward, and reaches up with his other hand to do the same thing. Tom tries to scoot backwards to keep his balance, but the much stronger Boston Strangler pulls him forward and over in a full somersault! Flesher lands on the mat with a splat, and Strangler covers him for ONE!!! TWO!!!!!!! NO! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and then sits out! “Inventive counter,” says Mark Stevens. “I don’t think so. He totally stole that from Frost.” “… showing the Boston Strangler’s depth of research. Excellent move for an esoteric situation – boy, the Strangler’s really coming out of his shell tonight!” Riley simply grumbles. Strangler grabs Flesher from behind and applies a reverse chinlock. Flesher reaches over, blocking Strangler from locking his hands and fully restricting the blood flow to the brain. He extends the arm, following through in the classical amateur trap for the hanging arm, and spins to face his adversary. Quickly, he jumps up and nearly lands a dropkick to Strangler’s face, but locks on a headscissors instead, completing the triangle choke! Strangler struggles, trying to break the hold, but stands up! Flesher tries to keep him down, but once again the scorned former Mag-7 member’s strength proves no match for Flesher’s superior position. He lifts the leader into the air, and with a loud THUD, slams Flesher to the mat with a powerbomb! Flesher immediately releases the hold, writhing on the ground. “Flesher was getting caught working the arm,” says Stevens. “But when he goes back to the usual moves, phoning it in with a Superior Stretch Beta and then a triangle choke, and the Boston Strangler has it all over him! Bobby, Flesher just can’t win this one!” “I have faith that Tom Flesher can win, even if he has to go outside himself. After all, he IS the Superior One!” “Right now, Strangler is clearly superior to Tom, and unless he can turn things around, he might be walking out of here with his second clean loss in three shows.” “But with the SWF Title!” adds Bobby, with a smirk on his face. Strangler looks down at Tom Flesher. He rubs his neck, still sore from the triangle choke, and continues glaring at the downed Superior One. As he does, the look on his face becomes darker and darker. Flesher starts to pull himself up to his feet, his brain going a mile a minute to figure out what to make of Strangler’s strategy. Finally, Strangler moves. He reaches down, grabs Flesher by the straps on his singlet, and pulls him up to his feet. Flesher looks up and instinctively lunges at Strangler with a shotei, but Strangler sidesteps it yet again, grabs ahold of Flesher’s outstretched arm, and whips Tom into the corner. Tom slams into the turnbuckle with a ring-shaking CRASH. Flesher groans as he starts to pick himself up off the turnbuckles, but Strangler is immediately there. He throws a massive right cross to Flesher’s jaw, which sends Tom flying backwards into the turnbuckle. Strangler steps into Flesher and starts throwing hard rights and lefts to Flesher’s open chest. Tom recoils in the corner, trying to shield himself from the nonstop parade of fists. “Strangler is taking it right to Flesher! This is the first time in the match that Strangler has really taken to the offensive, and it’s proving to work VERY well!” “You’re a moron, Stevens” interjects Riley. “Strangler tried to take control before, and Flesher reversed the Plunge into a near-fall! Strangler’s lucky to be staying with Tom as long as he is, and I’m sure Tom’s ready to take back the match once again!” Strangler ends the flurry of punches the same way it began, with another hard cross to Flesher’s jaw. Flesher slumps against the turnbuckle, totally drained from the onslaught. Tom looks up, only to see a charging Strangler coming straight for him. Strangler’s clothesline connects and sends Tom Flesher slumping to the mat in the corner as Strangler looks to the crowd, drawing even more cheers. Tom gets onto all fours, but Strangler quickly sneaks up behind him, bends over, and applies a rear waistlock to Flesher, who is still on all fours on the mat. Flesher tries to squirm forward, but Strangler lifts Tom up and over his head before drilling him with a huge release German suplex that draws a massive ovation from the crowd. Strangler rolls over onto Tom and hooks the leg for the pin attempt. ONE!! TWO!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT!!!!!!! “Strangler uses closed fists in the corner, doesn’t give Tom a chance to recover, and THEN attacks a man while he’s done! Stevens, this is a travesty!” “The only problem I have with this is that it didn’t happen any sooner than this, Riley! Now shut up and enjoy watching Flesher go down in flames!” Strangler gets to his feet, and continues to watch Tom Flesher on the canvas, struggling to get to his feet. A huge grin comes over his face as he stares down the SWF Champion on the canvas, who looks as if he doesn’t know where exactly he is. Strangler walks over to Tom, but Flesher manages to shoot off the mat and jam his thumb into Strangler’s eye. Strangler jerks backwards and grabs his face, allowing Tom to lunge forward and grab Strangler’s leg. Strangler teeters on his one solid leg for a second, and Tom looks up, a look of visible trepidation on his face. Finally, Strangler loses his balance and falls to the canvas. “Tim-BERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” “Wow, one move. Now Tom’s REALLY cooking!” mocks Stevens, drawing a dirty stare from Riley. Flesher keeps his grip on Strangler’s leg and starts to turn the big man over, looking to apply a single-leg Boston crab. Strangler fights, trying to keep from turning over, but Flesher stomps sharply on Strangler’s outstretched hand. Strangler yanks his hand back, and Flesher takes advantage of the briefly-distracted Strangler to finally get the leverage he needs to turn Strangler over. Strangler finally lands on his stomach, and Tom starts to pull back on Strangler’s leg. However, Strangler reaches out with his other leg, blindly feeling around until he feels the sole of his boot press against the small of his back. Strangler pushes backwards as hard as he can, sending Tom flying forward. Strangler starts to adjust himself on the mat as Tom takes advantage of the momentum, and bounces off the ropes before heading for Strangler. He sprints towards him and leaps into the air, looking to land on top of Strangler’s back with both of his Doc Martens. However, Strangler rolls out of the way in time and lashes out with a right fist to the stomach, which doubles Flesher over. Tom gasps for air as he straightens up slowly and painfully, only to have Strangler wrap his hand around Tom’s throat once again. Tom struggles as best he can without oxygen, but Strangler manages to lift Tom up this time before planting him to the canvas with the huge chokeslam. “Well Riley, THIS is why Strangler is winning this match! Tom FINALLY got some offense going, successfully hitting the takedown. But Strangler knew where Tom wanted to go with it, and reversed the crab. Tom comes back with his trademark stomp, but Strangler avoids that, and counters into the Plunge! Seems like Tom didn’t do his homework as well as Strangler!” “Tom did counter that move once before, you know!” “Too bad that it doesn’t matter anymore! Strangler’s signaling for the Boston Massacre, so I think that this match is all over!” “It ain’t over until Tom Flesher sings…he has a lovely voice, you know.” Strangler picks Tom Flesher up off the canvas again, and immediately hoists him up into the air into a gorilla press slam. Strangler shifts the weight off his still-sore left arm to his right as Tom Flesher struggles, looking to avoid the Boston Massacre. The crowd is going nuts as Strangler pauses for a few moments, looking out at the crowd with a smile on his face. Suddenly, the crowd goes quiet as Tom Flesher manages to slip off Strangler’s arms behind his back. Strangler whirls around to face Flesher, but Tom has already rolled out of the ring. He sprints over to the announce table and grabs the SWF World Championship belt from Funyon before heading towards the entrance ramp on the outside. The fans catch on to what’s happening, and let Flesher know exactly what they think of him. Strangler stands still in the middle of the ring, just staring at Tom Flesher, who avoids eye contact with Strangler as he hustles up the ramp. He turns around and stares at Strangler, with a villainous look on his face. The referee, standing next to Strangler, finally starts to count as Strangler just watches Tom Flesher walk up the entrance ramp and disappear behind the curtain. ONE!!! TWO!!! THREE!!! “Looks like your boy took his ball and went home, Riley!” “Strategic retreat, Stevens! Live to fight another day…although if he had wanted to, he could have easily taken Strangler right then and there!” “You are SO full of it.” FOUR!!! FIVE!!! SIX!!! SEVEN!!! EIGHT!!! NINE!!! TEN!!! DING DING DING!!!!!!!!! Funyon: “Your winner, by countout, the BOSTON…STRRRRRRANGLER!” The boos of the crowd mix with some cheers as Strangler is announced as the winner. The referee goes to raise Strangler’s hand, but he refuses, instead continuing to stare up the ramp at the entrance where Tom Flesher disappeared moments ago. “Godzilla” blares throughout the arena, trumpeting the “victory” by Strangler. Strangler finally stops staring at the empty ramp and looks out at the crowd, who respond with a roar of cheers. Strangler raises both fists in the air before looking at the empty entrance ramp wistfully one last time. “What a superb showing by the Boston Strangler! Everyone in this arena knows that he had that match won, and Tom Flesher chickened out and left!” “Tom DID counter the Massacre, you know! He countered the Plunge too!” “…which Strangler then proceeded to hit later in the match!” “Stevens, the point is that even though Strangler was able to get lucky and reverse a couple moves with direct ripoffs of earlier strategies used by Flesher’s opponents, the Superior One was still able to hold his own! And now that he knows what Strangler is coming with, he has enough time to draw on his incredible technical knowledge to formulate a new gameplan! Strangler doesn’t know a tenth of what Tom knows, and this time, he won’t get months to study him! That is, IF Strangler gets another shot at Flesher.” “If? He took Tom WAY past his limit tonight! I don’t care how much King hates Strangler, he has to see that he’s truly worthy of a shot at that SWF Title!” “The day that the inbred mongrel known as the Boston Strangler holds the SWF Title is the day I let NTD come back and do this job.” “Two for the price of one! Riley, you sure do know how to make a man happy…in fact, I’m pretty sure we have quite a few guys who could attest to that…” “Shove it, Stevens.” “Hah. Well folks, that’s it for SWF Lockdown tonight. For Bobby Riley, I’m ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. We’ll see you on Monday night for SWF Smarkdown! Goodnight, everybody!” SWF Lockdown, May 28, 2003 © White Apple Productions All rights reserved. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
