SWF Lockdown

[Kaertos 0]

Johnny Dangerous is stretching out in the locker room, his back to the door, preparing for his match with Ejiro.

 

*AHEM*

 

The Barracuda quickly spins around to see former tag team partner, the Wildchild, standing there. “About dis match,” he says, “do whatever you want to wit’ de US Title, but stay out of my business!”

 

Johnny looks puzzled. “Excuse me?”

 

“I don’ need your help to take care of Justice an’ Rule,” continues the Bahama Bomber. “ I can handle dem myself…” Just then, a sharp pain shoots through Wildchild’s side, and he bends over, holding his ribs gingerly.

 

Johnny shakes his head “I saw just how well you handled them back on Lockdown, when they put you through that flaming table. You’re not going to be handling anybody too well with those ribs, anyway.”

 

A flash of anger surges through Wildchild’s eyes at this. “In case you happened to forget, you’re de reason my ribs are like dis!”

 

Johnny lowers his eyes to the floor. “I know. I’m sorry. About everything. Just let me try to make this up to you, okay?”

 

Wildchild looks at Johnny incredulously. “Make it up to me? How in de hell do you t’ink you can make dis up to me?”

 

“If I beat Ejiro tonight,” replies Johnny, “then you’ll have your freedom. You can do your own thing again.”

 

“Don’ do me any favors.”

 

“Wildchild, please. I understand that you might not ever forgive me, and I accept that; but the two of us have a big problem with Judge and Ejiro right now. We could use each other’s help trying to take them down. Besides,” Johnny flashes a hopeful grin, “isn’t that old saying: ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’”

 

Wildchild stares at Johnny, but is unable to form a reply. Without a word, he turns around and heads towards the door. Johnny hangs his head down in defeat, but just before Wildchild walks through the door, he stops. “Work de legs,” he says. “Fasaki won’ be expectin’ it, comin’ from you; he’ll never see it comin’.”

 

Johnny looks up again, but only sees the door closing behind his former tag team partner.

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Kaertos 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen,” coos the silky-voiced sounds of Funyon into his microphone, “this next contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF United States Heavyweight Championship!”

 

“And a whole lot more,” calls out The Cyclone Comet. “Johnny Dangerous has a friendship riding on this match. If he can rip Wildchild from the clutches of the devilish Ejiro Fasaki, it has to do something to make up for all the pain Johnny put Wildchild through while he thought the Human Hurricane was running a drug cartel.”

 

“And while that ship has probably sailed,” yawns Bobby Riley, “at least Dangerous can get a new butler out of the deal.”

 

“Introducing first…”

 

“Johnny Dangerous” whispers a familiar female voice into the nether reaches of the arena.

 

With the theme to ‘Mission Impossible 2’ once again playing throughout the arena, the crowd silently says a prayer in thanks that they no longer has to listen to Right Said Fred. Yet they are not so thankful that they immediately forgive the perhaps now ex-spy master for his betrayal of his partner in Wild and Dangerous. But all in all, the arena gives ‘The Barracuda’ a warmer reception than he probably deserves as he wanders down the aisle. Stepping up and into the ring, Johnny sheds his tuxedo jacket in order to pair down to a more flexible black turtleneck underneath. Moving from toe to toe, Dangerous looks down the ramp from whence he came in order to watch as closely as he can the man that is about to come down for battle.

 

“He weighs in at 217 pounds and hails from the land of second chances, Las Vegas, Nevada. This is the challenger… “The Barracuda” JOHNNNNNNNNNNNNY DANGEROUSSSSSSSSSSS!”

 

Stepping up to the middle turnbuckle, Johnny D continues to stare down the ramp as the crowd gives him a respectable response for his attempt to make good. But as Johnny steps down and back into the center of the ring, the mood of the crowd takes an immediate turn for the worse as they here for the second time that night the phrase…

 

“Please stand for the singing of our national anthem!”

 

The audience collectively groans in their seats as some members of the populace make a great show of putting on their hats. But none of that matters as Ejiro Fasaki makes his way down to the ring with his ‘good buddy’ Wildchild right behind, carrying the Stars and Stripes over his shoulder. Yelling out at the crowd as Wildchild shakes his head in annoyance, Fasaki demands the respect that a double champion would normally get if he were not such a jerk ass. Climbing into the ring, Ejiro pulls the United States Title belt of his shoulder and holds it high into the air as the World Tag Team Title still remains affixed to his waist. Passing the United States belt to the referee Eddy Long, Ejiro basically ignores the remaining phrases of Francis Scott Key’s power ballad as he watches the referee hold the title belt up for grabs to the four sides of the ring.

 

“His opponent and champion,” calls out Funyon once again, “he weighs in tonight at 193 pounds and hails from Sarasota, Florida. He is currently one half of the World Tag Team Champions Tag Team Champions and the defending United States Heavyweight Champion. This is EEEEEEEEEEJIROOOOOOOOOO FASAKIIIIIIIIII!”

 

Leaping up to the middle ropes in between two turnbuckles, Ejiro lifts an arm up on high much to the displeasure of the capacity crowd. Hopping right back off the ropes, Fasaki pulls off the title belt that still adorns his waist and passes it to the outside to his unwilling protégé for safe keeping while he turns to face his foe for this evening.

 

“And boy does Fasaki not like Johnny Dangerous,” notes The Cyclone Comet. “Ever since these two first crossed paths in the SJL and Johnny became more popular, Fasaki has had it in for the super agent.”

 

“Are you trying to tell me that Ejiro is jealous of that loser?” laughs Bobby Riley in derision. “Look in the SJL, Johnny might have been a big deal but the SWF has been Fasaki territory.”

 

DING! DING!

 

With the match now officially underway, Fasaki and Dangerous begin to circle around each other looking for an opening that they can attack with their respective styles. But with Johnny looking so carefully to land some sort of martial arts maneuver, he gives Ejiro no opening to shoot forward for a single leg. By the same token, the Fasaki’s compact stance does not allow Johnny a chance to strike out with one of his lethal weapons. With no gaps in the defense of either man, Fasaki resets the stance by dropping back into his normal standing position in a corner as Johnny continues to hold his position in the center of the ring. Advancing once again, Fasaki immediately drops low and tries to sweep out one of Johnny’s legs only to have Dangerous step right out of the way of the attack and retreat back into a corner where Fasaki would prefer not to go.

 

“Stalemate at the moment,” notes the Comet, “but you know that is not about to last for long.”

 

Riley rants, “Lord I hope so. This is more boring than the World Series.”

 

“You do remember who runs this company now right?”

 

“What? Sure, it’s Mark Stevens… oh god. Did I say baseball was boring? Crap on a cracker.”

 

“Someone is going to be eating urinal cakes tonight,” singsongs the happy hero.

 

Finally Ejiro and Johnny finally make contact by forgetting about getting the opening attack and settling for a collar-and-elbow tie up. Back and forth they grapple and Johnny soon notices that Ejiro does not give up as much positioning as he used to due to his recent increases in weight. Instead, Fasaki manages to slap down on his challenger with a side headlock. Grinding down on ‘The Barracuda’ while extending his hips to avoid taking a belly-to-back suplex, Ejiro continues to keep the pressure on the hold while Johnny looks for a counter. Finally just using his lowered shoulders as a plow, Johnny presses Ejiro forward and into a corner in order to make Eddy Long force a break. Stepping in, the referee commands a break, which Fasaki immediately obeys only to take a quick right hand to the stomach. Immediately taking the Double Champion by the wrist and slings him across the ring with an Irish whip. But by keeping his hold on Johnny, Fasaki is able to reverse the whip and send Dangerous across the ring instead. Immediately rushing ahead Fasaki looks to crush Johnny against the turnbuckles only to have Johnny grab the top rope and sling himself right over the United States Champion. Hitting the turnbuckle with his ribs, Fasaki stumbles out of the corner only to be knocked right to the canvas with a solid sidekick to the middle of his chest!

 

BAM!

 

Immediately rolling as he hits the canvas, Fasaki heads all the way to the outside of the ring in order to fully recover from the imprint of a shoe now emblazoned in the middle of his chest. Bending over at the waist while sucking in some fresh air, Ejiro takes his time walking about the ring while Johnny holds court in the middle of the ring.

 

“Fasaki is making a smart play here,” says Bobby Riley. “Why not head out of the ring as soon as you take a blow like that?”

 

“I’ll tell you why,” replies The Cyclone Comet. “You get all warmed up for the start of a match and ready to go. Taking a break like the one Ejiro is taking right now is not only going to cool off Dangerous but Fasaki as well. And that is when it becomes exceptionally easy to tear or pull a muscle.”

 

“Wow. That was actually insightful.”

 

“That’s Cometary for you!” shouts out the happy superhero.

 

Sliding back into the ring at the count of seven, Rule easily avoids getting counted out this early in the match. But once he gets his eyes back on ‘The Barracuda’, Rule sees something he did not quite expect. Standing there in the center of the ring, Johnny has widened his base while extending a forearm out from his body while motioning to The United States Champion to meet him right there in the middle.

 

The Comet says, “Is Johnny actually challenging Fasaki to a martial arts showdown?”

 

“The fool!”

 

“What? Johnny is master of the deadly art of the open hand, he’ll murder Ejiro if Fasaki fights him that way.”

 

“But Fasaki is Asian,” pronounces Riley putting emphasis on every syllable. “That cracker has no chance!”

 

Perhaps thinking in the same ridiculously stupid manner, Fasaki looks to be just about ready to take Johnny up on his challenge. Saddling up to his opponent, Ejiro tentatively raises his forearm up to that of his opponent for a moment. But only for a moment…

 

WHAM!

 

Quickly striking out of his pose, Johnny pulls out of the standoff and slams a backhand into the back of Fasaki’s head. Stumbling ahead for just a moment, Fasaki is completely off balance as Johnny sweeps around and takes Fasaki down with a swinging kick to the back of the legs that takes Ejiro down to the mat. Immediately rising up, Ejiro is once again met with a swift front kick that catches Fasaki right in the sternum and knocks Fasaki strait back to the canvas. Scrambling to the safety of a corner Fasaki hooks onto the bottom rope in order to get the referee to keep Dangerous away.

 

“Like I said,” notes The Cyclone Comet, “Fasaki cannot beat Johnny Dangerous is this environment.”

 

“It was just the first time,” counters Riley with a mild air of desperation.

 

But Fasaki has never been an exceptionally fast learner and as he rises out of the corner, he once again takes seriously Johnny’s extended martial arts challenge. So once again he walks forward and places his forearm against that of his challenger for the United States Champion. But this time, Ejiro strikes out with his backhand first!

 

BLOCK!

 

WHAM!

 

WHAM!

 

WHAM!

 

Immediately shucking the blow out of the way with a block, Johnny strikes back with three hard backhands of their own that move Ejiro back step by aching step. Then with Fasaki’s back against the ropes, Johnny takes a step back and slams ahead with another hard kick that not only knocks Ejiro off his feet but all the way over the top rope and to the arena floor! Immediately lifting his arms in triumph, Johnny soaks in the cheers of the far more appreciative capacity crowd as Fasaki lies on the concrete wondering if he just wandered into the set of The Karate Kid Part V. Checking his teeth with his tongue, Fasaki holds onto his jaw in pain as Johnny continues to play to the crowd much to their delight. But one man who is not delighted is the Hardcore Champion that is watching everything from the side with a heated glare for both individuals.

 

Comet snickers, “I wonder if Ejiro has learned even now that he is not going to be able to out fight Johnny Dangerous? Or is Johnny going to have to knock his entire dental work out of his wise ass mouth?”

 

Riley yelps, “I don’t know! Shut up! I can’t think!”

 

“How is that different than normal?”

 

Riley gags, “Because normally I’m just ignoring what’s in front of me and thinking of ass…isted living. My grandma is real sick and can’t live on her own anymore.”

 

Sliding underneath the bottom rope as the referee’s count wanders up around ten, Fasaki shakily rises to his feet while Johnny continues to call Fasaki to the center of the ring for another showdown. Smiling broadly, Johnny once again lowers into his martial arts crouch as Ejiro looks about the ringside area for some sort of invisible coach to tell him what to do. But finding no such support, Fasaki’s lower lip sort of trembles as though he is about to break out into a complete tantrum. But still the United States Champion buckles up his courage and slowly saunters up to where Johnny is standing still ready and waiting.

 

Unfortunately a little too still!

 

Running ahead without a care, Ejiro plants his shoulders into Johnny and tackles him strait down to the canvas with a running spear! Immediately putting on a headlock as Johnny struggles for breath, Ejiro slams a continuous flurry of right hands that catch Johnny right between the eyes as the referee demands that Fasaki break off the illegal attack. Immediately breaking off, Ejiro begins to stomp down on his downed opponent with some heavy shots that don’t have the least bit of martial arts training behind it. Pulling his temporarily stunned foe off the canvas to a vertical base before pushing him across the ring with a whip. Popping out an elbow as Johnny comes racing back, Ejiro knocks his challenger down to the canvas once again.

 

“YEAH!” calls out Riley. “Who’s King Ninja now? Huh?”

 

Comet adds, “King… Ninja?”

 

“Yes King Ninja! Don’t tell me there isn’t any hero in your little outfit that isn’t a ninja king?”

 

“Oh Ninja King? Yes indeed, he’s a valued comrade. King Ninja? Now that’s just silly.”

 

But Ninja King is not about to just jump in the ring now, since that would be against his code of honor. So we are left with just Dangerous taking a further beating. Pushing ‘The Barracuda’ into a corner and keeping his distance close to avoid more martial arts attacks; Ejiro starts to take advantage with a shoulder block right into the midsection. Then putting on another headlock, Ejiro gives himself the opening he wanted to jam a fist into the Adam’s apple of his foe. Leaning back into a corner, Johnny shakes his head trying to shake loose the punishment that he has taken in the last few minutes. But before he can get his wits about him once again, Ejiro Fasaki takes Dangerous by the wrist and whips him across the ring with as much velocity as he can by dropping down to his knees to get more weight behind the whip. Crashing into the turnbuckle with his chest, Johnny falls strait backward to the mat from the shear force of the collision! Dropping down into an immediate lateral press, Ejiro looks to end this contest right here and now…

 

ONE!

 

TWOOOOOOOO… NO! NOT EVEN A TWO COUNT!

 

Shaking his head for a moment at the referee, Ejiro continues his assault as he pulls Johnny back up to his vertical base once again and drives an elbow into the side of his opponent’s head. Then dropping down to a knee, Fasaki uses a snap mare to flip Johnny over onto his back and flat against the canvas. Dropping down with a forearm across Johnny’s throat and illegally chokes away much to the dismay of the crowd and the furiously counting official. Finally breaking at the count of four, Fasaki allows Johnny the chance to check his neck as Rule takes a moment to jaw with Eddy Long regarding the choking complaints. But that is not enough of a chance for Johnny to get up to his feet. Only sitting up at that point, Johnny takes a right hand to the top of the head that knocks Dangerous flat to the canvas yet again. But this time rather than simply going for a choke, Ejiro takes a little hop into the air and crushes Johnny’s windpipe with a savage yet well-placed knee drop. Once again the referee immediately gets in The United States Champion’s face and verbally berates Fasaki to keep off the throat. Paying the referee all the attention you might expect, Ejiro gets right back on the attack as he pulls Dangerous off the canvas and closer to the ring ropes.

 

Riley shouts with a lot more joy than he had a few minutes ago, “You have to admit that when Fasaki goes for the throat, they really go for the throat.”

 

The Comet jabs, “Thank you Captain Obvious.”

 

“Now is he real?”

 

“He’s not a real captain if that is what you meant.”

 

Lowering his center of gravity, Ejiro lifts Dangerous up to shoulder height before dropping him down on the top rope. Or so he thought. For as Johnny comes down, he manages to get his arms out and break the flow of gravity enough to keep from getting throttled once again on the ring cables. So as Ejiro moves back in on Johnny, he finds a much more active wrestler than he would have thought. Kicking the unsuspecting United States Champion right in the gut as he comes in, Johnny breaks the flow of attack that Fasaki had established. Quickly pressing Fasaki back, Dangerous cuts across Ejiro’s chest with a knife edge chop that slices off the top layer of skin on the Sarasota Cobra’s chest. Another huge chop knocks Ejiro down to the mat with a thud that keeps Fasaki down for only for a moment before he comes wobbling back up on his feet. Shoving Fasaki into a corner, Dangerous grabs a hold of the top rope and uses it to make it easier to kick away at the middle of Ejiro’s face with a number of round kicks. Then leaping into the air, Johnny jams a spinning back kick into Fasaki’s jaw and knocks him strait down to his seat in the corner. Quickly jogging out towards the middle of the ring, Johnny runs ahead once again and buries a dropkick right into Ejiro’s mouth!

 

“JOHN-E! JOHN-E! JOHN-E!” chants the crowd as Fasaki’s face gets knocked into the second row!

 

Immediately grabbing The United States Champion by the ankle, Johnny pulls his foe out towards the center of the ring before dropping down and hooking the leg for…

 

ONNNNNNNNNE!

 

TWOOOOOOOOO!

 

THRNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! EJIRO IS OUT AT TWO.

 

Not exactly shocked that his dogged opponent managed to kick away, Johnny none the less does not regret taking the chance on that occasion. But Ejiro is not about to stay on the defensive forever, as Johnny well knows and so he immediately goes to the attack once again by sending Fasaki into a turnbuckle with an Irish whip. Getting a full head of steam behind him, Johnny crams Ejiro against the corner pads with a rushing clothesline. But before Fasaki can even settle from the pain of the lariat, he finds himself caught in a side headlock. Then with the United States Champion in tow, Johnny jaunts out of the corner and smashes Fasaki into the mat with a bulldog headlock! Immediately pushing the stunned Fasaki onto his back, Johnny once again makes a play for victory!

 

ONNNNNNNNNE!

 

TWOOOOOOOOO!

 

THRENOOOOOOOOO! NOT THIS TIME!

 

“I have to wonder if Johnny is going for too many covers here,” notes Bobby Riley. “He’s hitting one move at a time and trying for a cover after each. He needs to put a series of holds together if he wants to keep Rule down for three!”

 

The Comet rebuts the point, “But with so much on the line here, Johnny has to keep going for those covers. If he wants that United States title and if he wants to break Wildchild free of Fasaki, he is going to have to making covers.”

 

Agreeing with the Riley’s appraisal of his strategy though Johnny quickly places Fasaki back in a corner once again and rips the flesh from his chest with a savage knife edge chop. Once again taking Ejiro by the wrist, Johnny shucks Ejiro across the ring with a whip and immediately follows the champion in with a charge. Once again mashing Fasaki against the corner with a clothesline, Dangerous stuns Rule enough to get underneath him and lift him up onto the middle turnbuckle. Immediately climbing up after his opponent, ‘The Barracuda’ hooks Fasaki up for looks to be a middle rope superplex. But before Johnny can send Fasaki over, Ejiro jams his fist quickly into the chest of his challenger. Immediately plucking Dangerous off the ropes and drops him face-first right on in the middle of the canvas! Breaking into a spasm as he hits the canvas, Johnny Dangerous shudders against the canvas, as Fasaki looks down with a smile at the crowd before giving them a prim and proper salute much to their angry response.

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

Chuckling to himself as he makes his way down to the mat once again, Fasaki takes his time as he wanders over to Johnny and pulls the stunned challenger up to a vertical base. Putting a boot into the gut of the challenger in order to double him up and quickly snag the challenger’s head between his legs. Immediately working to catch Johnny around both arms in preparation for the Ejirocation. But before he can even attempt to jam Dangerous into the mat, Johnny manages to break his way free of the double arm and pull both of Fasaki’s legs out from underneath him! Immediately flipping over Ejiro with a jackknife pinning combination to the shock of the entire arena!

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Slamming his fists together, Fasaki manages to break up the pinning combination. Both men rise up together at the same time but it is Ejiro Fasaki that manages to strike first as he clotheslines Johnny out of his boots and to the mat. Obviously breathing heavy from having to kick out from underneath Dangerous so many times in such a short amount of time, Fasaki places his hands on his knees as he tries to get his wind back under his sails. Surprisingly, it requires Fasaki a moment longer than usual to continue his assault on the super spy. But as always the assault comes eventually. Setting Johnny for what looks to be a suplex, Ejiro jerks Johnny high into the air only to have Dangerous squirt free from the throw and end up behind Fasaki! Immediately snagging Ejiro around the leg for the MI Slam Johnny looks to bury the champion only to have Ejiro also counter out and end up behind his challenger. So as Dangerous turns, he is met with another boot to the chest that sets up the thunderous DDT! Spiked right on the top of his dome, Dangerous does a virtual handstand before finally falling over the top and landing on his back flat on the canvas. Looking out to his protégé Ejiro points down at the grumbling Wildchild and sweeps his arms across his body.

 

“Oh look,” notes Bobby Riley. “Ejiro is going to send out his personal dedication to his boy Wildchild with the Wild Ride Deluxe!”

 

Laughing as he gets back on the challenger, Fasaki once more places Dangerous’ head in between his legs before hauling Dangerous over to his shoulder. Forcing Johnny’s shins underneath his legs, Fasaki looks to hook the super spy’s head in position for the neckbreaker! But rather than go silently into the night, ‘The Barracuda’ uses his hands to break free of the grip of the United States Champion around his head. Then ducking forward, Dangerous manages to take Fasaki right down to the canvas with a sunset flip!

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Kicking with all of his weight, Ejiro manages to force his way off his shoulders and once again retain his grasp on the United States Title and Wildchild as well. And once again as Dangerous and Ejiro get to their feet at the same moment, Fasaki is able to strike first with a knee to the midsection. Then taking Dangerous by the wrist, Rule tosses his challenger into the ropes and ducks his head for a backdrop only to have Johnny put on the breaks and return the favor from moments before by spiking Fasaki into the canvas with the DDT!

 

BOOM!

 

“JOHN-E! JOHN-E! JOHN-E!”

 

But with both men down on the canvas neither one can respond to the chants that are now resounding throughout the entire state! Up and up they both come to their feet as the crowd rumbles in hope that Johnny Dangerous will be able to take command of this contest once and for all. But, as before, it is Ejiro who takes the first swing and he leans in to clothesline Dangerous down once again but this time turns out much differently! Ducking underneath the blow, Johnny reaches behind his own head to hook Ejiro and drop down to the canvas with a reverse neckbreaker! And this time it is Dangerous that makes his way up to his feet first to the joy of the entire arena. Pulling Ejiro off the canvas, Johnny slings him into the ropes and ducks low before sending the United States Champion flying overhead with a high back body drop!

 

“The Secret Agent man is ROLLING!” calls out The Cyclone Comet. “You can feel it Riley! This is going to be Johnny’s day!”

 

Once again pressing the advantage Johnny takes Rule by the wrist and uses it to send Ejiro across the ring with an Irish whip. But the moment before Fasaki hits the buckles he reaches out to grab the top rope in order to sling himself over the charging Dangerous. But stopping right underneath the swinging United States Champion, Dangerous snags Fasaki right out of the air in a fireman’s carry. Pulling Fasaki out of the corner a step or two, Johnny runs ahead before rolling ahead and pancakes Ejiro to the canvas with the fireman’s carry roll! Immediately turning over and hooking a leg, Johnny looks to put the United States Champion away once and for all with a…

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

“This could be all!”

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“KICK OUT!”

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Still Fasaki will not stay down,” calls out The Cyclone Comet. “No matter what you say about that sack of crap, he can take a beating with the best of them.”

 

Once again ignoring the frustration that normally comes with a kick out, ‘The Barracuda’ grips Fasaki by the hair and pulls him backward into a corner. Stepping up to the middle rope behind his foe, Dangerous reaches around and hooks Fasaki in a dragon sleeper that is sure to lead to the ‘Cover Up’! But as Ejiro struggles helplessly in the lock, he has someone else to take up the cause…

 

“Oh no! It’s William Hearford!”

 

Rushing down to the ring as quickly as he can is the judgmental one ready to save his tag team partner. But as he leaps up to the ring apron, Judge finds a special surprise waiting for him as Dangerous looses Fasaki into the center of the ring and immediately leaps right over the top rope to knock Hearford to the floor with a shoulder tackle! Immediately rolling right back into the ring, Johnny leaves William on the floor so he can hopefully knock off Fasaki before Hearford can interfere again. But even as he crawls into the ring, Fasaki is there to drop down on him with a forearm to the back of the head to turn the tide back in his favor.

 

“Good work Judge,” cheers on Bobby Riley with sadistic glee. “He just bought Ejiro a get out of jail free card and I am loving it!"

 

Immediately pulling Dangerous back up to his feet, Ejiro looks to polish off the Secret Agent Man by sending him into the ropes, catching and jamming him down to the canvas with the STO! Shaking his head back and forth as he pulls Johnny up to his feet rather than going for the cover, Fasaki looks to put this thing away and keep the nightmare alive for Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous. Picking Johnny up and hooking around his body, Fasaki looks to put Dangerous away with a Northern Lights suplex. But as he lifts Dangerous into the air, Johnny hooks a front facelock tightly around Fasaki’s neck before pulling him down to the canvas and SPIKING him with another DDT! Reaching for a leg, Johnny looks for he cover…

 

But no count comes!

 

“Hearford is on the apron! He’s got the referee! He’s got the referee!”

 

“And WILDCHILD HAS HEARFORD!”

 

Popping out of his statue-like position on the floor, The Human Hurricane grabs Hearford and pulls him right off the apron to the floor! Immediately firing on one of his oppressors with all the rage and all the insults that have been building for months Wildchild finally gets a little bit of revenge as he jams Hearford’s face across the ringside barrier! Continuing the assault, Wildchild begins to beat Hearford all the way back to the dressing room as Johnny Dangerous and Referee Eddy Long look on from inside the ring.

 

Maybe they should have had their attention elsewhere?

 

DING!

 

Coming up from behind Johnny, Ejiro jams a forearm high and inside the leg of ‘The Barracuda’. Folding up and dropping to the canvas, Dangerous looks as though he is about twenty seconds away from tossing up his lunch as the referee questions Fasaki regarding the legality of the last move.

 

“This is over,” laughs Riley. “There is no way that Johnny is going to come back from this. No way!”

 

And perhaps Ejiro feels the same way as he pulls the groaning Dangerous up to his feet and looks to put him away with a backdrop suplex. But as he lifts, Johnny floats right over the top and hooks Ejiro instead before falling backward and crushing him with the…

 

“MIIIIIIIIIIIII SLAMMMMMMMMMMM!”

 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“COVER!”

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

“NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPION!”

 

The voice of the ring announcer rings out, “The winner of the match and NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW SWF UNITED STATES CHAMPION JOHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNY DANGEROUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

 

“He did it!” rants The Cyclone Comet! “Johnny has liberated Wildchild! Hell, he has liberated us all from Ejiro Fasaki! And he’s got the gold to PROVE IT!”

 

“This is not happening! This is not happening!” groans Bobby Riley.

[Kaertos 0]

The Cajun Dome in Lafayette, Louisiana is alive and rocking with the sounds of 14,492 SWF fans as SWF Lockdown returns to the airwaves. Lights flash around, illuminating the crowd in swirls of yellow and red as the fans scream, holding up signs in their attempt to get themselves immortalized on television. A massive “RULE > JUSTICE!” sign dominates the camera shot, while other smaller signs (“STRANGLER’S A PUSSY!” and “REVIEW WCW TOM FLESHER HOLDS DOWN TALENT!”, among others) drift around the crowd.

 

“Nights like this are what make me excited to come into work each and every night, Robert” exclaims Comet as the commentary duo returns to the airwaves.

 

Riley looks over at Comet, with an excited look on his face as well. “I know! Those French fries the caterers make are the greatest things ever invented, huh? I swear, I could eat those all goddamn day long!”

 

“Robert, I meant that shows like this are what it’s all about.”

 

“Oh…well, this isn’t bad either. At least there’s gonna be some blood tonight in that cage match. Craven’s gonna make that pathetic sellout Flesher bleed, tap out, and become the next SWF Champion!”

 

“Robert, tonight’s match between Thomas Flesher and Citizen Craven is not an SWF Title Match. However, it should be an excellent battle. So will the battle between Citizen X and Andrew Blackwell for the SWF ICTV Title. And on your previous note of blood: The steel chair challenge between the returning CIA and the despicable Va’aiga should be an excellent showdown that provides plenty of the violence you seem to be craving, Bobby.”

 

“That steel chair challenge is gonna be tight, Comet. Va’aiga’s gonna crack the Canadian’s damn skull open. Who agrees to this match in their first time back in an SWF ring, for god’s sake?”

 

“Well, Robert…”

 

“An idiot Canadian, that’s who! And speaking of stupid matches, look at this next one! Strangler’s gonna go up against the men who, until a few days ago, were SWF Tag Team Champions! That guy’s gonna get totally owned by Sinquization!”

 

“Strangler has not been in the greatest of moods lately, with the return of Erek Taylor, but Strangler looked like he was starting to shake off a little bit of the rust in that matchup against Xero before Citizen Erek quickly intervened and put an end to that. I am somewhat perplexed as to why Strangler’s good friend Mark Stevens has put it upon himself to punish Strangler in this way.”

 

“It’s simple, Comet. Stevens thinks that by sticking Strangler in this matchup, he’ll be able to awaken Strangler’s survival instincts, and summarily bring him back to prime form. But I doubt this’ll work. King might be able to pull it off, although he wouldn’t, since he’s evil, but Grand Slam doesn’t stand a chance at it.”

 

“Well Robert, there’s only one way to find it. Let’s take this down to the ring where Funyon is waiting to get things underway here!”

 

The spotlight pans onto Funyon, who has the microphone held tightly in his hand. He raises the microphone, and begins his diatribe: “Ladies and gentlemen! The next match is scheduled for one fall, and it is a HANDICAP MATCH! Introducing first…”

 

"Hollywood Squares" by the Dillinger Escape Plan with Mike Patton hits the loudspeakers, as Quiz bounces out from behind the curtain and onto the stage, the crowd booing in disapproval! The calmer John Duran walks out from behind the curtain as the music continues. Quiz beckons to the ring attendant for a microphone and gets one while Duran hangs back, looking onward. Grinning, Quiz lifts it to his lips.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's edition of the new hit Quiz show, Sinquizition! Tonight, we have 1contestant, and John Duran, your question is this! Which tag team will emerge victorious tonight?"

 

Duran looks over at Quiz for a moment, looking somewhat annoyed with the antics tonight, before simply holding up one finger. Quiz bubbles on, “THAT IS CORRECT! Time to play……SINQUIZATIONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!” With that, Quiz tosses the mic backstage where it goes dead, and then starts on his way down the ramp, jumping around a little bit from extra energy while John Duran paces behind, trying to avoid looking at his tag team partner’s less-than-professional display. As Quiz slides into the ring, Funyon’s voice returns: “Introducing first! Weighing in at a combined weight of 454 pounds, they are “The Sinner” John Duran and Quiz….SIN-QUIZAAAAAAAAAAAAATION!” The two men huddle together in the ring in one of the corners furthest from the ramp and begin to whisper to each other, strategizing for the upcoming matchup as the crowd waits for Strangler’s entrance.

 

“You have to like Sinquization’s chances, Comet. Strangler’s down one man to two, and Sinquization sure as hell know how to work together.”

 

Comet retorts: “Strangler is a former World Champion, Robert. I do not make a practice of picking against them.”

 

Riley’s assuredly brilliant comeback is cut off as the opening notes of “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult hit over the speaker system, which sends the CajunDome crowd into a big round of cheers. A burst of white pyro explodes upwards from the stage, and hangs there for a moment before slowly floating away and revealing the Boston Strangler standing there on the top of the stage, with one hand raised for the crowd. The Lafayette crowd is hot for TBS as he pauses for a moment, looks down at the two men in the ring, and then starts a seemingly reluctant descent down the ramp. “And their opponent! From Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 303 pounds, he is the BOSTON…STRRRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!” cries out Funyon as the Superstation reaches the bottom of the ramp and quickly rolls on his side into the ring. He pops up and plays to the crowd quickly, soaking in the good vibes from the fans before turning around and scoping out his two opponents across the ring, who are in the finishing stages of their strategy session. Finally, Quiz bounces out of the huddle and to the middle of the ring while John Duran steps outside to the apron. Referee Nick Soapdish says a few words to the two men, yells to Duran about the tag ropes, and calls for the bell to begin the matchup.

 

DING DING DING!

 

Quiz immediately rushes forwards and drills Strangler squarely in the jaw with a hard forearm shot. Strangler braces himself and manages to keep steady on his feet, hardly even moving backwards from the force of the blow. Quiz charges in again and hits Strangler with a forearm that again fails to knock Strangler back. Strangler shakes his head briefly, then sidesteps a third forearm by Quiz and tosses him to the ground by the head to a big pop from the crowd. “Who’s TBS taking fighting lessons from now, Pedro Martinez?” snaps Riley as Quiz hops right back up, turns around, and drills Strangler with a slap squarely across the face. The crowd visibly reacts to the move, with the surprised “OOOOOOOOOOO!” quickly turning into a chorus of boos directed at Quiz. Strangler looks down at his feet for a moment, then looks up at Quiz, with a blank expression on his face.

 

“Here it comes! Citizen Strangler is ready to let Quiz have it for that one!” cries Comet, but it is not to be, as Strangler simply shoves Quiz away from him and turns away, back to his empty corner. Quiz looks over at Duran, who merely shrugs his shoulders, before turning back to Strangler. He charges forward and hits Strangler squarely in the middle of the back with a dropkick, which sends Strangler rocketing chest-first into the turnbuckle. The wind is knocked out of the big man, and he pauses in the corner, resting on his chest, for a moment to regain his breath. Quiz doesn’t miss out on the opportunity to beat on the big man while he’s defenseless, and charges forwards, hitting TBS with another dropkick. Strangler shakes that one off and pushes himself out of the corner while Quiz yells out to the crowd, drawing some boos from the fans near ringside.

 

“Quiz is wasting valuable time here, Robert. He has a very dangerous man reeling here, and he’s wasting time talking to the crowd. Not the greatest idea, if you ask me.”

 

“Comet, I’ve seen 6 year old boys who could do more damage to Quiz than Strangler can in this mindset. He’s totally gone, and he might as well just lay down so this match can end, and he can go back to his pathetic little soul-searching crap.”

 

A shout from Duran silences Quiz, who turns back to Strangler. Strangler is leaning back against the ropes, staring up at the rafters, seemingly lost in thought. Quiz immediately darts forward and hits a third dropkick, which connects with Strangler’s totally unprotected chest. Strangler goes tumbling backwards over the ropes where he crashes to the ground with a hard THUD! The crowd is rather silent now, with a faint “WE WANT SHOW!” chant in the background. Quiz climbs under the ropes nearest Strangler as TBS pushes himself up to a standing position on the outside. Strangler looks up, and sees Quiz go springboarding off the middle rope before leaping at Strangler with a crossbody. Quiz goes crashing into Strangler….but Strangler catches Quiz! The fans react with a massive round of cheers as Strangler looks around, his instincts seemingly kicking in, before he rears back and tosses Quiz backwards with a huge fallaway slam that sends Quiz flying over the crowd barricade into the first two rows of seats. The nearby fans scurry out of the way of the flying Quiz as the rest of the arena erupts for Strangler’s first offense of the match. Quiz is flat on his back, entangled in a mass of chairs and a few spectators, while Strangler turns and looks at the giant mess he’s created before he silently slides back into the ring, with his expression never changing.

 

“Strangler has finally decided to fight back, Robert! And did he ever fight back there!”

 

“See Comet, I’m not sure that this is really him fighting back. He fought defensively, and put Quiz in a position to get counted out! I think he just wants this match to end right now so he can get out of here and not have to face all those demons floating around in his head right now!”

 

Strangler gets to his feet in the ring alongside Nick Soapdish, who quickly warns Strangler about the move before continuing the 10 count, which is at…

 

 

 

FOUR!!!

 

 

 

…right now. Strangler looks over at Duran, who seems extremely annoyed as Quiz starts to pull himself out of the crowd, with metal chairs falling over all over the place. The clanking of chairs partially deafens the call of…

 

 

 

FIVE!!!

 

 

 

…from Soapdish as the crowd gets a “QUIZ SUCKS! QUIZ SUCKS! QUIZ SUCKS!” chant going. Quiz manages to pull himself over the guardrail where he crumples against the crowd barrier as Soapdish reaches…

 

 

 

SIX!!!

 

 

 

…on the count. Quiz manages to drag himself up to his feet with the assistance of the crowd barrier, and slides into the ring to break the count. Strangler hangs back from Quiz, giving the injured man time to stumble over to Duran in the corner and make the tag. Duran says something sharply to Quiz before stepping into the ring and cracking his neck before starting towards Strangler.

 

“And the killer instinct disappears again, Comet! Strangler had an opportunity to isolate Quiz and possibly end the match after that bigtime fallaway slam, but he didn’t capitalize! And now he’s gotta rumble with the cool and calculating John Duran, which isn’t an easy feat!”

 

John Duran approaches Strangler and, unlike Quiz, wastes no time in drilling Strangler with a right hand. Duran’s punch is obviously more effective than Quiz’s earlier attempts, and Strangler goes reeling backwards, stunned by the force of the blow. He shakes his head and looks up at Duran, with a look of surprise on his face. Duran quickly wipes the look off Strangler’s face by absolutely DECKING him with a clothesline. Strangler goes smashing down to the mat and takes a moment, trying to shake the cobwebs out, before he starts to get back to his feet, still obviously stunned from the blow. “I don’t think Strangler was ready for the power that John Duran has, Comet” explains the Master of the Obvious as Duran catches Strangler with a hard toe kick squarely in the ribs as Strangler tries to get up. Strangler goes crashing back down to the canvas, holding his ribs this time, and Duran follows up with a few hard stomps to the ribcage, which sends Strangler rolling along the canvas to the outside of the ring. Duran is quick to follow as he climbs underneath the ropes to the apron on the outside while Strangler rests alongside the ring barrier, still recovering from Duran’s early onslaught.

 

“I notice that Citizen Duran is smart enough to not take any chances right now, opting instead to beat on his downed enemy while he has the chance. Citizen Quiz should be taking notes right now.”

 

“Don’t worry about these guys, Comet. They’re former tag team champs, and they’re as good a unit as you can expect for the amount of time they’ve spent together. I like their chances here.”

 

Duran continues his offense and charges towards Strangler before hitting him with a big stomp to the sore ribs of Strangler. Strangler doubles over and covers his chest from further attacks, prompting Duran to scoop Strangler up off the canvas and grab him by the forearm before whipping the big man towards the steel ringsteps. However, Strangler sets himself and reverses the Irish whip, sending Duran flying instead! Duran goes flying shoulder-first into the steel steps, sending the top half of the stairs careening backwards. The crowd pops for Strangler’s second near-escape of the match, and TBS looks at the crowd briefly, acknowledging the cheers, before sliding back into the ring, leaving John Duran on the outside once again. “He’s doing it again, Comet! He’s going for a countout, like the chicken he is!”

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

Nick Soapdish begins the ten count again as Quiz, from the other side of the ropes, starts barking at Strangler for his defensiveness throughout the match. Strangler looks over at Quiz, who only yells louder having gotten Strangler’s attention.

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Strangler just stares at Quiz, who barks even louder. THREE! rings out, and Soapdish turns back to the ring just in time to see Strangler flip Quiz off and turn away, which draws another big round of applause from the crowd. Quiz, now extremely incensed, starts to climb into the ring, so Soapdish quickly calls out…

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

…and then goes to keep Quiz out of the ring. Meanwhile, Duran is back on his feet on the outside, and rubbing his right shoulder as he slides back into the ring to break the count once again. Strangler shakes his head and stalks around his corner while Duran says something to Quiz, looking to calm him down. The Sinner’s words seem to have an effect, as Quiz stops pushing against Soapdish and backs off. The crowd is quiet as they anticipate the next move in the contest. Duran comes forwards once again, charging forwards to hit Strangler with a left shoulder tackle, but Strangler sidesteps the attack and grabs Duran by the head, throwing him out of the ring to the apron outside. Quiz is immediately angered again, and leaps over the top rope before Soapdish can stop him and charges Strangler, with a look of fury on his face. He dropkicks Strangler squarely in the chest, then immediately springs back up off the mat and runs backwards before springboarding off the ropes and taking Strangler down to the canvas with a cross-body block. Strangler hits the deck hard, and Quiz immediately darts for the corner, looking to go up top and do some real damage. The crowd boos loudly as Quiz makes his way to the top, while his tag partner is getting up on the outside, looking angered himself, and Strangler is still down from the cross-body.

 

“It’s about time we got some action here tonight, Comet. Dear god, Strangler’s stalling here is making this more boring to watch than a Craven promo!”

 

“Despite your need to see big, flashy moves every 10 seconds or so, Quiz is the illegal man! Citizen Soapdish needs to intervene ASAP!”

 

Soapdish is doing just that, however, as he stands in front of the downed Strangler, preventing Quiz from flying. The former tag champ argues with Soapdish, who is urgently waving Quiz back towards his corner. As Soapdish gesticulates wildly, John Duran slides into the ring and starts choking Strangler on the mat by pressing his forearm squarely across the windpipe of Strangler. Quiz notices the blatant choke in the background, and becomes even more persistent in his argument with the referee, who is starting to turn red in the face. After a solid 15 seconds, which has Strangler trying to claw Duran’s arm off of his throat, Quiz finally hops down off of the turnbuckle, just as Strangler finally manages to pull Duran’s forearm off of his throat. Soapdish finally turns back to Strangler, just in time to see Duran hook the leg and make the cover on the gasping Strangler.

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T….

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

“And Strangler was able to kick out there, but the damage was done to PERFECTION by Sinquization! Quiz gets in a sneak attack, then distracts the referee, allows Duran to come in and get some of his offense in, and then a near-fall! Absolutely perfect!”

 

“May I remind you that BOTH attacks were illegal, Robert?”

 

“No. You can’t. Now shut up and watch the perfection continue!”

 

Duran hops back to his feet and grabs Strangler by the forearm, pulling him up to his feet. He drags Strangler into his corner and slams TBS into the turnbuckles, back-first, before reaching out and tagging Quiz in. Quiz leaps back over the top rope once again and smacks Strangler on the back of the head on the way in, adding a little insult to injury. Duran lashes out with a sharp kick to the lower abdomen of Strangler before climbing out of the ring, leaving Quiz in there alone with the monster. Quiz looks cocky as he slaps Strangler across the face once again and dances around a little while a semi-coherent Strangler, still breathing somewhat heavily from the earlier choke by Duran, just sits back and takes it. Quiz follows up with a big right forearm to the face as the crowd goes silent, knowing the routine by now.

 

“Quiz Show Combo! Here we go! Take it to the house, Quiz!”

 

Strangler doesn’t respond as Quiz lifts Strangler’s chin before blazing a knife-edge chop across the upper chest. Quiz repeats the move, then closes with a big moonsault kick to Strangler. Strangler sinks back into the turnbuckles, seemingly glad that Quiz has backed off for the time being. Meanwhile, Quiz is on his feet and playing to the crowd, which gives the crowd a reason to take their anger out on him. The boos rain down upon Quiz, who takes great pleasure in reveling in the boos of the crowd. A sharp word from Duran finally snaps Quiz from his little fantasy, and he goes back on the attack, heading for the corner. Quiz walks up to Strangler and leans in for another chop. Suddenly, Strangler explodes out of the corner, lifting Quiz up into the air before planting him down on the canvas with a huge desperation spinebuster out of the corner. Quiz comes bouncing off the canvas before finally coming to a stop, and Strangler lies on his stomach, recuperating from the attack. The crowd is instantly alive once again, with a “T-B-S! T-B-S!” chant starting up and bringing the Ragin’ Cajuns alive.

 

“Looks like Citizen Strangler has a bit of fight left in him, Robert!”

 

“PLEASE! He’s had a total of FOUR offensive moves: A desperation fallaway slam, a reversal of an irish whip, tossing Duran to the outside, and that spinebuster. Three of the four were just an attempt to win by countout, and the fourth was self-preservation kicking in!”

 

“But Strangler hasn’t had those instincts kick in for a while, Robert! If those are alive and well, then Strangler may be on the way back to regaining his old mindset, and thereby regaining his old form as one of the best the SWF has to offer!”

 

Strangler starts to push himself up off the canvas, slowly but surely getting to his feet as Quiz begins to push himself towards the ropes. Strangler is first to his feet, and he spies Quiz a few feet away, vainly reaching for Duran’s hand. Strangler starts to go forward, but suddenly pauses, a thought coming into his mind. He holds the pause for a few seconds, then seemingly shakes it off and charges forwards straight towards the corner. He goes to reach down for Quiz, but a big right cross from Duran, still on the ring apron, sends Strangler stumbling back. Quiz takes the extra time and lunges forward, tagging Duran with the tips of his fingers. Strangler stands up and charges forward again, seemingly still locked onto Quiz, but a John Duran clothesline takes him back down to the canvas, and kills the crowd once again.

 

“Strangler made a crucial error in judgment, Comet! That pause of his, which was yet ANOTHER mental blunder by the big man, ends up costing him big, as he gets a couple big shots to the face, and Duran gets to tag back in.”

 

“Unfortunately, Strangler still seems to be confronted by these demons, and he is yet to conquer them. I sincerely hope that Strangler can overcome these and show the talent that he has shown throughout his career here.”

 

“What talent? He got lucky, got a cheapo run with the title, and now he’s being exposed as a talentless hack. It’s like Taylor said, Comet. This IS the real Strangler, whether you want to believe it or not.”

 

Strangler is flat on his back, still trying to recover from the blows, as Duran scoops Strangler up off the mat. He quickly ensnares Strangler with a headlock and applies pressure to the big man, bending him over and not allowing him to use his height as a factor. Strangler hesitantly pushes on Duran’s side, trying to peel him off, before finally putting some muscle into it and shoving Duran off harshly. Duran uses the momentum and bounces off the ropes with his less-than-considerable speed, and goes charging towards Strangler. He goes for a clothesline, but Strangler ducks underneath it and whirls around, waiting for Duran to meet him. Duran pivots and throws another punch, but Strangler manages to duck that as well. Duran throws out a knee to the gut, which catches Strangler off-guard and doubles the big man over. Duran quickly hooks the arms, looking for a double-armed DDT, but Strangler manages to set himself and back-body drop Duran to the canvas behind him. The crowd is beginning to come alive once again, although they still remain wary of Strangler’s instincts.

 

Duran quickly pushes himself up to his feet, and takes another charge at Strangler. He goes for a big shoulder tackle, but Strangler sidesteps it and shoves him into the turnbuckle, where Duran lands face-first. Duran turns himself around, and appears quite surprised to see Strangler charging forwards with a determined look on his face. Strangler goes crashing into Duran with a big clothesline, which sends Duran stumbling out of the corner, straight towards Strangler. Strangler quickly slaps a front facelock on Duran, and twists around, spiking him to the ground with the Lobotomy before Duran has a chance to react. The crowd is now alive and rocking, feeling the energy running through Strangler for the first time tonight as TBS gets up, with a satisfied look on his face. He turns to the corner where Quiz stands, flips him off once again, and then covers Duran.

 

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE….NO!

 

 

 

“Strangler’s alive and kicking, Riley! This is the old defender of justice we used to see when Strangler was World Champion!”

 

“We’ll see how long this lasts, Comet. He’s shown glimpses of this spirit before, but it quickly goes away. I doubt he’ll keep this momentum going.”

 

Strangler quickly pulls Duran up to his feet, and SMASHES him in the face with a brutally hard right cross. A hint of red shows underneath Duran’s nose as Strangler pushes him into the Sinquization corner, and yells at Quiz to tag himself into the match. Quiz, obviously startled by this sudden outburst from Strangler, waits for a moment, then tags himself into the match. The crowd is cheering loudly, looking forward to Strangler destroying Quiz as well, as the Game Show Wonder slips under the top rope, forgoing the flashy ring entrances from earlier. Strangler immediately tears into Quiz, slamming a pair of hard right fists into the stomach of Quiz, which doubles him over. Strangler quickly scoops Quiz up into a fireman’s carry before lifting him and SLAMMING him down, gut-first, onto his knee. The air goes rushing out of Quiz’s chest as he falls to the canvas, and Strangler quickly presses down on top of Quiz, with the 300+ pounds of Strangler pressing down on the wriggling Quiz.

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE—NO!

 

 

“And Quiz kicks out! There we go, Quiz!”

 

“I have to like Strangler’s chances right here, Robert. He’s showing the kind of can-do spirit that put him on top, and right now, Quiz is in there all by himself with a man who’s letting out all the aggression of the past month!”

 

Strangler quickly pulls Quiz off the canvas, and knees him in the gut again. Strangler grabs Quiz’s arms off to the side of his body, and grabs Quiz’s head before dropping him flat on his face with a big double-armed DDT. The Lights Out sends the crowd into an even bigger frenzy as Strangler rolls Quiz over once again and makes the cover!

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE—NO!

 

 

Strangler slams his fist against the mat and quickly scoops Quiz up again. This time, he sends Quiz whipping towards the ropes. Quiz bounces off the ropes, and manages to duck underneath a Strangler clothesline. Quiz bounces off the other ropes and goes charging back towards Strangler, but Strangler locks a hand squarely around Quiz’s throat before he has a chance to complete the move. Strangler’s grips locks even TIGHTER around the throat, which slowly turns Quiz’s face a deep shade of crimson as TBS signals to the roaring crowd. He pauses momentarily, then lifts Quiz into the air. He holds the extremely light Quiz there for a moment, then plants him straight into the ground with a canvas-shaking chokeslam. The Plunge is the icing on the cake for the crowd, who are going delirious as Strangler rolls Quiz over and makes the cover….

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

“Citizen Quiz somehow got a shoulder up, Robert! An amazing effort by Quiz!”

 

“He’s holding strong, Comet! And Strangler can’t keep this up! He won’t! Not gonna happen!”

 

Strangler gets to his feet and waits for Quiz to get to his feet. John Duran comes racing into the ring, but Strangler drills him with a big boot to the face, quickly dropping him to the canvas. As the cheering crowd and Strangler eagerly anticipate Quiz getting up, as TBS looks to put the match away, a noise from behind him catches Strangler’s attention. He turns around, and looks up at the SmarkTron, which is playing an all-too-familiar video to Strangler…

 

---------------------------------

 

“WHY TAYLOR? Why did it have to be Erek Taylor? I was ready to fight Chris Wilson! Sure, I don’t fucking LIKE Chris Wilson, but god knows I’d rather fight him for a year straight than have to face Erek! Wilson was the one who fucked me over! And Erek…I fucked Erek over. No questions about it. I retired him. I took away his livelihood…”

 

“But I’m different! I’m different now! I’m not the man I was last year! I don’t do roids, I don’t go insane, I don’t attack anyone and everyone in my way! I’m disciplined! I’m a champion now! I earned it all! Erek comes out, questions me earning that World title, questions my dedication, questions my ability…total crap! That belt was mine through my own talent, and nothing else!”

 

“But maybe…Erek told me that belt was his…he beat me before…did I cost him his shot at glory? How the hell would I feel if Erek had taken away my livelihood…I dunno…”

 

“But that’s in the PAST! Right now, I’m not the kind of person who would hurt Erek like that again. I’m not gonna hurt Erek at all! If I do hurt Erek…if I do…then god knows what will happen. I refuse to let myself become what I was last year. I REFUSE to allow myself to slink back down that path. It WILL NOT HAPPEN!”

 

“So what do I do? I can’t fight Taylor…he can fight me. I can’t yell at Erek. He can yell at me. And he’s back for good. I need to stand up…I need to fight…but how? Erek’s ready for this fight, and I’m not. I’m…I’m….I’m afraid. I’m afraid of Erek Taylor. I’m afraid that he’s the key to the pandora’s box inside me…he’s the thing that’s gonna trigger all the emotions, all the evil….I have to fight, but I have to not fight. What the HELL do I do?”

 

--------------------------------------

 

Strangler is in shock, staring at the now-blackened video screen as the crowd murmurs to itself. “The dastardly Erek Taylor has struck again, Robert!” cries Comet in the now VERY quiet arena. The familiar video has sapped all the energy from Strangler, who is standing there, looking totally defeated. Finally, he turns around, in a half-hearted attempt to track down Quiz, but he walks straight into a VERY pissed-off John Duran. As Soapdish yells at Duran, he grabs Strangler and hoists him, with a good deal of effort, into a gorilla press position. As Strangler weakly struggles, not used to being on this end of the gorilla press, Quiz comes flying off the top rope and catches Strangler with the big guillotine face drop. Strangler goes crashing to the mat under the weight of Quiz, and Duran quickly retreats from the ring. The weary Quiz rolls Strangler onto his back, and drapes himself across Strangler as Soapdish drops to the mat and starts the count...

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

“Your winners, they are Quiz and John Duran….SIN-QUIZAAAAAAAAAAAATION!”

 

Duran slips back into the ring and picks Quiz up, congratulating him on the effort and the victory while Strangler lies there, face-first, on the canvas, not moving. Soapdish checks on Strangler, and gets a small nod from the exhausted and emotionally drained giant as Sinquization exit the ring, looking grateful for having escaped on their feet, let alone with the win. Strangler finally starts to push himself up, and stares glassy-eyed at the SmarkTron again, as if waiting for the video to re-appear on the screen once more.

 

“Hey, Strangler! The video’s not up there anymore, idiot!” screams Riley, which draws the reproach of Comet.

 

“Robert, that video is undoubtedly playing within Strangler’s head right now. Citizen Strangler needs to sit down and sort himself out. Have some respect for a young man who is going through a difficult period in his life right now!”

 

“Guess what, Comet? I don’t feel bad for him! He ruined Erek Taylor’s career, his life! Now Erek is doing nothing that TBS didn’t do to him! Fair play is fair play!”

 

“Two wrongs do not make a right, Robert. I only hope that Strangler can recover from this loss, and can take on his demons soon enough.”

 

“Not. Gonna. Happen.”

 

“Thank you for your opinion, Robert. We need to take our next commercial break now, but when we return, we will see the return of the Steel Chair Challenge, as the retuning CIA takes on the Maori Badass himself, Va’aiga! Stay tuned to SWF Lockdown!”

 

*fade out as Strangler starts to wobble to his feet, with the look of defeat still painted on his face*

[Kaertos 0]

After the brutal match with Sinquizition, The Boston Strangler heads down the corridors of the Cajun Dome. He breathes heavily, and occassionally uses the wall for support as he limps back to his locker room. People nearby watch on, giving a sigh of pity as the former World Champion is being ripped apart from the inside by one man who hasn't won a match in the past year. Strangler reaches the door of his locker room, and fortunately, just for tonight, the Commissioner was kind enough to give him his private locker room. “Good ol’ Mark…always could do me a favor…although a handicap match wasn’t what I fucking needed now…” Strangler enters the dimly lit room. Inside, a couch is placed at the far end of the room while a mirror hangs right next to the door. Strangler leans his head on the mirror, and watches his sweat smear across the glass. The sweat drips down to the floor but he doesn't care. He's tired, he just wants to rest.

 

"Why is this happening to me? I’ve changed my ways! Why the hell did this stuff come back to bite me in the ass? I swear…”

 

"Hehehehe."

 

Strangler sharply turns, startled by the chuckle. His hand gropes its way up the wall and on to the light switch. He turns on the lights, and there on the couch, sitting casually, is the Wonder Kid himself, Erek Taylor.

 

"Who would have thought that the Boston Strangler could question himself in such a way?" Erek asks out loud. “This isn’t the Boston Strangler who was World Champion, is it?” He places his feet on top of the couch and lies casually as Strangler stands there, petrified, not knowing what to do. “THIS isn’t a champion. This right here is Loserus Smellius, which is Smelly Loser, for those who didn’t take Latin…”

 

"I'm tired, Erek” replies Strangler, with fatigue in his voice. “I've told you a million times: I don't want to fight you. I don't want to have you yelling at me every chance you get. I can’t fucking deal with this, OK? And if you’re such a smart guy, and you know all this, then WHY are you in my locker room?"

 

"Now, Albert, my not so bright friend, I'm not here to yell at you. No, no. I'm not here to challenge you at all, because I know that you'll accept my challenge eventually."

 

"Why should I accept your challenge, anyways? You've lost 3 straight since you came back. You aren’t worthy of facing me."

 

"Big words from a man who couldn’t beat Xero, Strangler. Now, that little losing streak may be true, but don't you see that I'm not even fighting at my best when I'm out there? You would have thought that I would bring my A game when I went up against Flesher, but no, that's not how I want it to be, Strangler. Winning the World Title will be a great accomplishment for me, but I didn't come back for that. I told everyone from the beginning, titles aren't my concern. The only reason I came back was to spill the blood of he who almost ended my career. The only reason I came back, Albert, is so I can smear your blood across the floor. I want you to pass out from the pain. I want you to go through what I went through. I want you to disappear and see how it feels to have nobody recognize you anymore. I want you to see how it feels to lose everything, and how it feels to have all your hard work stripped away from you. I want your life, Strangler, although not in the life or death scenario."

 

"I've said it a million times, Erek. I'm sorry for what I did but that was a different person back then and he's disappeared. I'm a changed ma-" Erek quickly cuts Strangler off, not wanting to hear the same old broken record.

 

"Albert, you need to stop and face your reality. That monster, the one who retired me, who kicked me out on my ass? That's who you are. You are him. You will ALWAYS be him. You will always be heartless and you will never be able to feel the true goodness in life. You are pure evil. And you’ve made me into a man just like you, Strangler. I hope you’re fucking proud of yourself, you jackass.”

 

"No Erek, you're wrong. I'm not pure evil. This is real life, this isn't some fantasy storybook. I have the choice of who to become. I chose to become the person you see before you, a reformed man. It was because of that choice that the fans are cheering me. And I love it, Erek. I love the cheers. You've felt it before, you should know how it feels."

 

"I do, Albert, I do. How ironic that they're booing me now, isn't it?"

 

"Very ironic, Erek."

 

"You know, Albert, my parents watched my fight with you. You know what happened when I lost my job?"

 

"No. Listen Erek, I don't want to know. I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work."

 

"They called me after the match and immediately asked if I needed help. All I wanted was a place to say. I moved in with them, Albert. I sold my house, took the money, and lived with my supportive family. They picked me up when I was down.”

 

"What a heartwarming tale. Now, what the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

 

"I have parents that care, Albert."

 

"What?"

 

"Let me ask you something, Albert. Where were your parents when you went through your drug problem? Where were they when you graduated from high school? Where were they when you were crying?"

 

"You know perfectly well where they were. Don't even start." Strangler’s eyes are starting to light up, as the touchy subject has obviously hit a nerve.

 

"Of course I know. I'm just hoping you know too. If you don't, I'll remind you anyways. They were never there because they didn't want you. You were an accident in their eyes. They never wanted to have you in the first place. You just happened. You were alone for half your life, and you’ll be alone for the rest of it!”

 

"Erek, stop..."

 

"...How awful it must feel to have Thanksgiving dinner with just yourself..."

 

"Stop man..."

 

"...how bad it must feel to open up Christmas presents that you bought for yourself...."

 

"I'm warning you...."

 

"....and how hard it must be to live with the painful thought that the two people who gave you birth wanted to take it back..."

 

Without a warning, Strangler grabs Erek by the collar and pulls him up. He throws him into the wall and presses him against the white bricks.

 

"Don't.... you..... ever..... talk..... about..... that...... AGAIN!"

 

Strangler releases Erek, who doesn't waver. Erek unwrinkles his shirt as Strangler sits down on the couch. Erek walks over and leans towards Strangler's ear. He whispers,

 

"What happened to not wanting to hurt me? I know you can't hold up your shield for long and sooner or later, you'll crack and you'll want to do to me as I want to do to you. You'll want to hurt me as bad as I want to hurt you. You can try to keep it up again, but remember, with the right choice of words, anyone can be made to play my game. But you know you’ll crack sooner or later. And you’ll crack again, Strangler. You’ll crack again. And you know what? I think your parents are happy seeing you on television and the things that you have done....or, then again, maybe not. I guess the latter makes more sense since they haven't tried to contact you at all."

 

Erek starts for the door as Strangler slowly drops into depression.

 

"Who knows, Albert? Maybe they're not even alive. Maybe they died. Well, it's for the best, anyways. They were never good parents anyways. See you around, Albert."

 

Erek closes the door, leaving Strangler alone in the room. Strangler sits quietly there, looking off into space, then rips the telephone out of the wall in front of him and hurls it across the room. The telephone smashes the mirror nearby, and the shards go tumbling to the ground. A small tear rolls down Strangler’s cheek, and the former SWF Champion leans back in his chair, letting the thoughts spin around in his head once again as the camera fades out…

[Kaertos 0]

Comet: Well next up we have this unique matchl, devised by Va’aiga originally and brought back to haunt him. As authorised by Grad Slam Mark Stevens himself, this is the Steel Chair Challenge. Want me to go over the rules, Robert?

 

Riley: Well it’s so simple that any idiot can understand it. And you’re so much more than ANY idiot.

 

Comet: It’s very simple. The normal rules of wrestling apply to this match with one small exception. Steel folding chairs are considered legal, and any moves using said chairs are legal too.

 

Riley: It’s a match where you can wrestle, or where you can just beat the tar out of your opponent with a chair. I like it.

 

 

The lights in the arena fade to almost nothing, and the intro to the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Can't stop" begin to issue forth from the speakers. As the beat climbs, small strobes of light begin flashing at various point along the stage in time with the drum backbeat. These strobes slowly get brighter, until they suddenly are replaced by very small bursts of pyro along the stage, also in time with the backbeat. These pyro get bigger, as the beat approaches a crescendo, finally culminating in two large explosions of pyro that occur right around center stage, just as the guitar riff shifts in to replace the drums.

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is a STEEL CHAIR CHALLENGE scheduled for one fall. Introducing first weighing in at 245lbs and hailing from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada… the Canadian Intelligence Agent…. SEEEEEEEEE AAYYYYEEEE EEEEEEEH!

 

As the crowd starts a small “SEE-AYE-EH” chant CIA rises up from below the stage at this point, coming up into the center of a small cloud of smoke that has been formed between the two explosions of pyro, raising both arms and pointing out towards the fans as he begins to make his way down the aisle, Smarktron displaying CIA's face in front of a waving Canadian flag, as well as various shots of CIA smirking in the direction of the camera, and one or two clips of CIA's greatest in ring moments.

 

Comet: CIA looks ready for a battle here tonight, Robert.

 

Riley: CIA looks reading to get hit repeatedly over the head with a big steel chair.

 

Comet: How can you tell that?

 

Riley: He turned up. Many wiser men would have stayed home and called in sick knowing they had to face the Maori.

 

The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, and Va'aiga appears in shadow, wearing a hooded black boxer's robe, with silver trim and the silver fern of New Zealand on the back. As Va'aiga's music starts with the quote "WHAT'S MY NAME?!" the bassline of "Bring The Pain" by Method Man fires up, but instead of the usual lyrics of Method Man, the ancient New Zealand war chant - the "Haka Te Ra" plays over the top.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, from Rotorua, North Island, Ne…

 

Funyon pauses as Va’aiga glares over in his direction…

 

Funyon: Aotearoa. He weighs 309lbs and stands 6’8 tall, ladies and gentlemen, the Maori Badass… VAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGAAAAAAAAAAA!

 

Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora!

Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora!

Tenei te tangata puhuruhuru

Nana i tiki mai whakawhiti te ra!

A hupane, kaupane

A hupane, kaupane whiti te ra!

Hi!

 

Red strobe lights pierce the darkness of the entrance ramp as Va'aiga begins his slow walk to the ring, chair carried under one arm, throwing a few phantom jabs with the other on the way. The Smarktron shows images of the Maoris performing their traditional war dance, cut with some of his biggest in ring hits - Hitting the Va'aiga Stinger on Dace Night, Maori Dropping Jay Dawg onto a flaming section of canvas, flipping Quiz like a pancake with the Lariat, Camel Clutching Jay Dawg with a bent golf club, Maori Dropping CIA through the windshield of the Mag 7 limo, shouting right in Bastion's face, holding up both the Tag and Hardcore Gamers belts after the tag title win, Maori Dropping Ejiro as time expires at Genesis IV... Inside the ring Va'aiga throws off his robe and leans over the ropes, looking out into the crowd, lifting his steel chair above his head and screaming the final Hi! of the Haka (with his tongue hanging out in true Maori style)

 

Comet: It looks like Va’aiga has personalised a chair especially for this occasion.

 

A camera shot of Va’aiga’s chair shows that the chair is covered in Maori patterns, mimicking the tattoos on the Maori Badass’ face and arms.

 

Riley: That’s attention to detail. It’s like the chair is an extension of his personality.

 

Comet: That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard in weeks! Comparing the Maori’s personality to that of a cold, brutal solid object, intending in the wrestling ring for little more than hurt… forget I spoke.

 

Mark Soapdish signals for the bell and Va’aiga charges out of the corner swinging, forcing CIA to duck a wild thrash with the chair. CIA swings behind Va’aiga, outmanoeuvring the Maori with fancy footwork and as Va’aiga swings again, CIA fires a dropkick into the Maori Badass’ knee, dropping the massive Maori down off his feet briefly. CIA rushes at Va’aiga and fires a knee off into the Maori’s upper chest, dropping Va’aiga down with a thud. CIA steals Va’aiga’s chair and poses.

 

Comet: CIA getting the best of the early exchanges here.

 

Riley: Whoa, whoa. A couple of early strikes and you’re forecasting victory. Hold your horses, Comet.

 

CIA grabs For Va’aiga’s chair as the Maori sprawls on the canvas. Va’aiga claws his way back to a three point stance, but CIA clubs him solidly across the lower back with his own chair. Va’aiga grunts and slowly reaches a vertical base as CIA rears the chair back again, and as Va’aiga finally gets to his feet properly, another lethal chair shot fired across his lower back makes the Maori Badass shudder with the impact. CIA grabs Va’aiga by the arm and whips him to the ropes, drawing the chair back like a batter, winding up on the plate. Va’aiga comes hurtling back across the ring and CIA swings, but it’s a slider from the Maori Badass and he strikes, launching in a low rugby tackle and taking CIA down by the legs, CIA’s back thudding off the mat.

 

Riley: What would a Canadian know about Baseball anyways?

 

Comet: What do you mean? There are baseball teams in Canada.

 

Riley: Yeah I went to an Expos game this year, and I said to the guy next to me. HEEEEEEY! CAN YOU THROW ME A HOTDOG? Nothing beats the deafening murmur of a hot crowd.

 

Comet: Give me a break.

 

Riley: You know for the benefit of the players, they put the supporters’ names on the back page of the program up there.

 

Va’aiga stalks round the downed Canadian firing off a couple of quick stomps to the right leg of CIA. The Maori Badass grunts in disapproval then drops an elbow across CIA’s leg, forcing a groan of pain out of the Canadian Intelligence agent. Va’aiga spots where his chair is laying, and grabs for CIA’s foot, lifting and dragging the Canadian into position before slamming CIA’s knee down with massive impact onto the flat of the chair! CIA rolls away clutching his knee and Va’aiga glares down at the Canadian with a fixed expression of hatred crossing his heavily tattooed face.

 

Comet: It looks like Va’aiga is going for the right leg of the Canadian Intelligence Agent, but the question is Riley, Why?

 

Riley: I’m sure Va’aiga has something bad planned for CIA.

 

Comet: With the Maori Drop affecting the ribcage and back, the Pacific Stretch affecting the back and neck and that massive Va’aiga Stinger as he calls it affecting the head and again the back with the rack part beforehand, you have to wonder what the Maori is playing at.

 

Riley: Well it’s obvious isn’t it?

 

Comet: No.

 

Va’aiga lifts CIA off the mat in a back waistlock and grabs on tight as CIA flails away with a pair of back elbows, trying to release Va’aiga’s grip. Va’aiga sucks it up and falls backwards, throwing CIA over with a HUGE German Suplex, but CIA tucks his body in mid air and flips out, landing on his feet! CIA winces and backs off, shaking his right leg a little, but as the Maori turns, CIA launches himself off the mat and fires off a spinning heel kick with his LEFT leg, sending Va’aiga staggering backwards. CIA regains his feet with a smooth dance move, and hits a couple of steps of the Ottawa Shuffle…

 

Comet: The dance…

 

…tips his hand back to his face, thumb and forefinger extended…

 

Comet: drink…

 

…and lifts his arm high above his head, as Va’aiga turns and SNAPS OFF A MASSIVE HEADBUTT SENDING CIA REELING AND STUMBLING DOWN TO THE MAT! The crowd boos and boos GOOD!

 

Riley: and HEADBUTT!

 

Comet: Not really what CIA had planned.

 

Riley: You have to leave off the flash stuff with the Maori Badass. You just can’t stun him long enough to try the crowd pleasers. CIA’s ring rust is showing here, Comet.

 

Comet: CIA may be a legend, but time away from the ring hurts even the best of athletes.

 

Riley: CIA may be a legend, but in the ring with Va’aiga you’re nothing but a victim.

 

Va’aiga again goes straight for the leg of CIA, stomping away like a big cat toying with it’s prey. Va’aiga grabs CIA up roughly by the arm and slings the Canadian into the ropes unwinding his tattoo covered arm with a hell of a whiplash effect. CIA careers off the ropes and hurtles Maoriwards, only to find himself sailing through the air as the Maori Badass jacks him up with a vicious flapjack, with the Maori repositioning himself and spiking down on CIA’s lower back, sending CIA’s lower body, especially his knees, crashing down firmly into the mat and adding to the effect of the flapjack.

 

Va’aiga: MATE!

 

Comet: Mat-eh? Death?

 

Riley: I think he means it more like die! As in you go to hell! You go to hell and you die!

 

Comet: Does Va’aiga believe in hell?

 

Riley: Hell is standing the other side of the ring from the Maori Badass.

 

Va’aiga again drags his steel chair over and this time lays it across CIA’s leg before driving the steel down across CIA’s flesh with a leg drop of his own. Va’aiga hooks the injured leg and lays back, pressing for the first cover of the match and Soapdish drops to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH.. and CIA kicks out.

 

Comet: And I ask again, what IS Va’aiga doing?

 

Riley: He’s inflicting copious amounts of extreme hurt. That’s all you need to know, Comet.

 

Va’aiga keeps hold of CIA’s leg even after the kick out and twists it to reveal the thigh area, allowing the Maori to drop another massive elbow down onto his Canadian opponent. Va’aiga stands and holding onto CIA’s leg tight, lifts the Canadian’s whole body off the canvas BY the right leg and just drops him roughly down to the canvas, similar to the eng of a powerbomb. CIA rolls away and Va’aiga speeds his progress, kicking CIA under the bottom rope and watching over the ropes as the Canadian crashes to the outside.

 

Riley: The sheer brutality of the Maori Badass it’s…

 

Comet: Inhuman? Disgusting?

 

Riley: Breathtaking. Every boy in the back wishes he could lift people and drop them with the ease of Va’aiga.

 

CIA slowly gets to his feet on the outside as Va’aiga slides under the bottom rope and stalks his prey again. CIA turns to face the Maori as Va’aiga hits full pace and launches himself, and the turning CIA finds an impaling Maori shoulder forced into his midsection. CIA stumbles backwards and the Maori Badass capitalises by grabbing hold of his stumbling Canadian opponent, stepping a leg through into a tripping position and driving CIA down to the matting outside with a vicious o-soto-gari.

 

Riley: Space Tornado Va’aiga! Something like that anyway.

 

The Maori leans over the fallen CIA and growls menacingly, before shooing off a cameraman to allow himself some extra room. As the close up picture jumps with the cameraman’s retreat, Va’aiga peels away a section of protective matting, and to the dulcet tones of a booing crowd, the Maori lifts up CIA’s leg again and drives it down, knee first into the unprotected, unforgiving concrete floor.

 

Comet: Va’aiga’s attack is unceasing! This new vicious streak to the Maori is manifesting itself to little but the detriment of the Canadian Intelligence Agent’s tibial health.

 

Riley: Say what?

 

Comet: Va’aiga’s gone nuts and is beating on CIA’s leg.

 

Riley: Oh.

 

Va’aiga grabs CIA and hoists him roughly back to his feet, before whipping the unfortunate Canadian HARD into the ring steps, sending them clattering across the floor. Va’aiga marches over to Funyon’s table, and as the Australian ring announcer gets the HELL out of there, Va’aiga grabs for his chair and approaches the slumped CIA. Va’aiga raises the chair up and smashes it down, but CIA juuuuuust rolls out of the way and Va’aiga reels back, the shockwaves of steel chair hitting steel ring step juddering through his body. Va’aiga rears the chair back and hunts again for CIA, but the crafty Canadian has slipped round the outside and rolled back into the ring, and as Va’aiga turns back towards the ring CIA slides out with a lightning quick baseball slide and bounces the chair off Va’aiga’s skull!

 

Comet: CIA with the baseball slide dropkick on Va’aiga! Could this be the moment which turns this match around?

 

CIA hobbles on his one good foot outside the ring and fires off a massive right cross to the face of the Maori Badass, keeping Va’aiga off his balance. CIA follows quickly with a second hard right handed punch and then reaches down for a steel chair. Holding the chair aloft high in the air CIA draws strength from the cheers of the crowd and lines up the Maori Badass for a swipe… BUT VA’AIGA SHAKES OFF THE FORCE OF CIA’S PUNCHES AND FLATTENS HIM WITH THE EXCRUCIATING, DEVESTATING, PROBABLY LACERATING AND POSSIBLY EVISCERATING, BIG BAD AND INFUSED WITH THE POWER OF BOO-YAH LAAAAAARIAAAAAAAAATTTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

 

Riley: THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT! The tide could have turned, but CIA took a millisecond too long and Va’aiga nearly took his head off!

 

Va’aiga picks up CIA by the throat and slams him back first into the ring apron, as the crowd boos the Maori and his stubborn refusal to show any sign of being vulnerable. Va’aiga lines up the Canadian and charges, firing his knee off into CIA’s leg, sandwiching it between Maori and ring apron. CIA winces, but the Maori allows him no recovery time, slinging the Canadian under the bottom rope and rolling in after, hooking a leg. Sopadish again drops to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

TH.. and CIA kicks out. The crowd cheers wildly as Va’aiga rolls back over and grunts an instruction to Soapdish, as the Maori hooks the leg again.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR.. and CIA kicks out. The crowd cheers again and Va’aiga curses to himself and re hooks CIA’s leg…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR.. and CIA kicks out again! The crowd noise, building slowly through the sequence of kick outs now starts another “SEE-AYE-EH!” chant, which ripples through the arena. Va’aiga growls and walks back over towards his trusty steel weapon, dusting himself off as CIA lays on the mat, drawing himself up slowly to his feet. CIA JUST gets up in time to swerve away from a wild swing by the Maori Badass and the Canadian Agent clenches his fists, issuing a quiet “C’mon!” through gritted teeth, and the partisan crowd cheer for the Canadian Intelligence Agent again.

 

Comet: It seems the crowd is behind the Canadian Intelligence Agent tonight.

 

Riley: And yet they’ve been known to boo Johnny Dangerous, doing FAR more important work. I mean stopping a lethal moose and hockey puck smuggling ring was good…

 

Comet: Can we get back to the match please?

 

Va’aiga swings again with the chair, but CIA ducks through and aims a kick at Va’aiga’s leg. The Maori Badass, off balance, stumbles forward and CIA wraps his arm solidly around the bull like neck of his opponent, leaps forward and wrenches the Maori with him, impacting Va’aiga’s face on the canvas!

 

Comet: CIA with a bulldog! The Maori goes down!

 

Riley: …and I hear CIA once stopped a shipment of illegal 12 man formations and long end zones…

 

CIA hooks Va’aiga’s leg and nods his head furiously in time with Mark Soapdish’s counts…

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

T.. and Va’aiga kicks out!

 

Riley: …and the mountie scandal…

 

Comet: Will you SHUT UP! CIA gets a good two count on the Maori.

 

Riley: That was barely even a one count. Honesty Comet, you’ve making the viewers think you’re not concentrating.

 

CIA again takes his time getting up, but the Maori is slightly slower, and the Canadian fires off a couple of forearms and whips Va’aiga into the ropes before the massive Maori can regain his bearings. CIA prepares himself as Va’aiga rebounds and uses the big guy’s weight against him with a hiptoss powerslam! CIA winces and hops a little before moving back over to the Maori and dropping an elbow into his muscular solar plexus.

 

Comet: CIA is starting to come back into the match, using his speed to outfox the Maori.

 

Riley: Yeah but notice how CIA had to use an easier version of that powerslam. I think his bad wheel is hurting him here, and only time will tell how much that will affect him.

 

CIA lifts Va’aiga up slowly, and makes sure that Va’aiga can’t gain any momentum back with another quick pair of back elbows to the sternum and a speedy snapmare, followed by a quick left legged kick to the back, CIA having thought about using his right, wincing and checking himself.

 

Riley: You know CIA looks DAMN uncomfortable there.

 

Comet: But if anyone has the guts to win from this situation, it’s CIA. He’s one heck of an athlete, Robert.

 

CIA drops to the mat and fires a few forearms down into the grounded Va’aiga before floating round and looking in cinch in a floor version of his Dragon Sleeper! CIA scrabbles forwards, but struggles to get purchase on the mat with his right leg giving way and Va’aiga rolls loose of the hold. CIA stands slowly, and Va’aiga AGAIN goes for the chair, but CIA is up just in time to step back and dodge another strike. The crowd oohs and CIA dodges round and Va’aiga swings again, this time the heavy downward swing rebounding off the top rope and smacking the Maori on the brow of his head! Va’aiga grunts and shakes his head as CIA bounces against the ropes on the adjacent side and launches himself into a SUPERKICK! Va’aiga crashes down to the mat!

 

Comet: SUPEEEERKIIIIICK!

 

Riley: You love that move don’t you.

 

Comet: Yes Citizen Robert. Yes I do.

 

CIA skips at the Maori badass, still heavily favouring his right leg and drops to cover, pressing as much of his bodyweight as he can on the upper body of Va’aiga. Mark Soapdish drops to count again…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH.. and Va’aiga kicks out. CIA hauls himself up on the ropes and beckons the Maori to get up, and Va’aiga obliges, facing away from the Canadian and unsure of which way his opponent is… CIA pounces and hooks his arms underneath Va’aiga’s, cupping them firmly on the base of Va’aiga’s skull. The crowd’s low buzz rises again as CIA clutches the Maori Badass. CIA takes a step slightly forwards and to a side and places his stronger left leg in front of the Maori Badass’ far thicker pin. Another “SEE-AYE-EH!” chant builds. CIA tries to force the Maori over…

 

 

Comet: VIA RAIL! VIA RAIL!

 

But Va’aiga WILL NOT budge….

 

Riley: BLOCKED!

 

Va’aiga struggles against the full nelson…

 

“SEE-AYE-EH! SEE-AYE-EH!”

 

…but CIA channels the strength of the crowd…

 

Comet: HE HASN’T!

 

…and powers Va’aiga over with the VIA RAIL!

 

Comet: VIA RAIL! VIA RAIL!

 

And CIA pretzels over the Maori Badass into a full nelson Cradle! Va’aiga shoulders are pressed to the mat and Mark Soapdish counts with the crowd counting along!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE… NO! Va’aiga lifts a shoulder, but as CIA stands Va’aiga stays slumped on the mat!

 

CIA: AIR CANADA!!!

 

The crowd goes BALLISTIC as CIA looks down at the laid out Maori, then up at the corner, wincing with every step his right foot takes, first slowly towards the corner, then up to the first rope, then the second, stopping to look back to check if Va’aiga is still down and finding that he is taking those final steps up to the top rope. CIA stares out into the crowd as he steadies his uncertain footing and takes a deep breath in.

 

Comet: Here it comes. One of the most breathtaking sights this side of Wildchild, Air Canada.

 

The crowd chants “CA-NA-DA! CA-NA-DA!” as CIA readies himself and leaps off blindly, twisting in mid air and extending his elbow out, his face scrunched up with the pain as his elbow makes contact with Va’aiga’s chest...

 

Riley: No!

 

Comet: NOOO!

 

And his leg makes contact with Va’aiga’s knee!!! The Maori Badass just got a knee up and though CIA hit the elbow, his leg took ALL the weight of the fall, and CIA rolls to one side lying on his back, clutching away at the leg. Mark Soapdish raises his arms…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

The picture in picture shows the two men still lying on the canvas as the highlight of the match so far, the semi botched Air Canada is replayed in slow motion for the viewers at home.

 

 

 

THREE!

 

Riley: Air Canada hits! Va’aiga lifted a knee, the elbow hit, and the pair are BOTH lying in heaps in the ring. Folks this one could well go to a double count out!

 

 

FOUR!

 

Comet: I’m not sure it would be the right result, but after a calamitous collision such as that, I can’t see EITHER man getting to his feet.

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

“SEE-AYE-EH! SEE-AYE-EH!”

 

SIX!

 

 

CIA juuuust gets to one knee.

 

SEVEN!

 

Va’aiga has crawled over to the ropes and begins hoisting himself up.

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

CIA stands and Soapdish waves him on

 

 

NINE!

 

 

 

 

T.. and Va’aiga regains full footing.

 

 

Comet: That was close for both the Maori and for the Canadian. Either man could have stayed down for a full ten count there.

 

Riley: This match must continue however. Close counts count for nothing but the count counters in the SWF.

 

Va’aiga grunts and groans as he lumbers back towards the center of the ring, while the more sprightly CIA hobbles with fire and sprit! CIA closes in for the kill on the Maori Badass, firing off a couple of quick forearm shots again, before slipping behind the Maori and again locking his hands on the base of the Maori Badass’ skull in a tight Full Nelson! The crowd are going MENTAL MENTAL CHICKEN ORIENTAL for the Canadian as he steps through on the Maori for the second time in the match!

 

Comet: VIA RAIL! Here we go again!

 

Riley: Two Via Rails should put down even the baddest of asses in this federation. And I’ve seen most of them.

 

Comet: What?

 

Riley: I’m not sure that came out right.

 

Va’aiga struggles and fights the hold, and CIA tries his hardest to blast through a second Via Rail, lifting Va’aiga a little off the mat, but Va’aiga spins through and breaks the full nelson, hooking in a Full Nelson of his own! Va’aiga lifts CIA off the mat and drops him down, folding CIA up by smashing him down on his knees in a modified full nelson slam! CIA howls in pain as Va’aiga backs away.

 

Riley: Not this time! Not twice in the same match, and not on Va’aiga’s turf. CIA goes crashing down onto his knees, and is in patellal peril.

 

Comet: CIA could be in deep trouble now.

 

Riley: I think Va’aiga’s going back or that chair. Again.

 

CIA struggles slowly, inching his way ever closer to a vertical base as he slides his knee out and JUST gets his right foot out. Straining every sinew of his muscles, CIA drags his left leg out, visibly slowed to a near stationary position by the pain pulsing through his leg. CIA stretchs out and SLOWLY manages to find his feet, JUST in time to be FLATTENED by a MASSIVE chair shot from the Maori Badass! The crowd oohs in sympathetic pain, and drops of blood drop from CIA’s forehead.

 

Comet: Oh my goodness! Va’aiga nearly took CIA’s head clean off with that shot! That was an EVIL strike from the black heart of an evil man.

 

Riley: It was shockingly effective too. CIA is barely moving.

 

Va’aiga examines the trickle of blood on his chair and grins to himself as CIA staggers up to one knee again. Va’aiga draws back and as the crowd bursts into a fun little chorus of “VA-ING-UH SUCKS!” the Maori Badass SMASHES the chair right into the unprotected skull of the kneeling Canadian Intelligence Agent. CIA flies backwards across the ring sending a little shower of blood across the mat as Va’aiga holds the bloodied and buckled chair up above his head.

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME?!

 

Riley: Va’aiga has damaged CIA’s mobility so much that the Canadian can’t escape from the many chair shots the Maori is raining in. This is just turning plain ugly.

 

Comet: Va’aiga could pin the Canadian at any time but that sick, demented psychopath is looking to make a statement, and that statement is a question.

 

Va’aiga approaches the now only seated CIA, and as the Canadian tries to scoot away from the onrushing Maori, Va’aiga JUMPS and drives the chair vertically downwards across the skull of CIA for a third time. There are female screams coming from the audience as they reel in shock nearly as much as the Canadian superstar is reeling from the blows.

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME?!

 

Comet: Stop this insanity! Stop this madness!

 

Mark Soapdish tries in vain to persuade Va’aiga to put down the chair, but the Maori isn’t listening as he drops down and pulls CIA up with his free arm, and CIA on wobbly and unsure legs is incapable of fighting back at all, possibly even concussed, as Va’aiga draws the chair back and FIRES OFF A FOURTH SHOT! CIA COLLAPSES to the mat, dropping like the proverbial stone as Va’aiga shouts out again.

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME?! WHAT’S MY NAME, DANNY?

 

Riley: Danny?

 

Comet: Va’aiga is issuing a challenge to Danny Williams. Or maybe he sees CIA as Danny Williams. Either way Va’aiga is making a point, in a disgusting fashion.

 

Va’aiga lifts CIA back up to his knees again, CIA’s head drooping and his body slightly swaying, as if blown by an invisible wind. Va’aiga this time just THROWS the chair at CIA’s head and the Canadian slumps down to the mat, the steel bouncing off CIA’s cranium with a sickening crash.

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME?! WHAT’S MY NAME, DANNY?! WHAT’S MY NAME?!

 

Va’aiga drops down to the canvas and leans over the fallen CIA, his tattooed face staring down, lost in thought maybe, the Maori’s eyes almost glazed over as CIA’s. Va’aiga hooks a leg…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE! And Mark Soapdish calls for the bell!

 

Comet: Well I hate to say it. Thank GOODNESS this match is over. I think we got a glimpse into the heart of the beast and it was BLACK.

 

Riley: Va’aiga won, and he won by sheer brutality. I think tonight that the Maori Badass has REALLY made the rest of the federation sit up and take notice.

 

Mark Soapdish raises the Maori’s hand as his theme music fills the arena with the chanting of tribal warriors and dark beats of Method Man. Va’aiga looks blankly out into the booing crowd and then pushes Soapdish to the ground! The crowd boos again as Va’aiga strides out of the ring staring out into the crowd either side of him. The Japanese-trained referee slowly gets to his feet and dusts himself down…

 

Comet: What was that for?

 

Riley: If you had $10,000 spare, and you could spend it by pushing over a referee, would you?

 

Comet: But Mark Soapdish has always been so fair to the Maori Badass. He’s often refereed the Unholy Trinity matches, and he’s always called it straight down the middle…

 

Riley: Well you can think about that during this coming commercial break.

[Kaertos 0]

Lockdown returns to the air with a low camera angles and huge black boots walking across the cold cement floor of the Cajun Dome. Each step makes a sound when the boot connects with the floor, giving the impression that the individual above the boot is rather large. The crowd makes no sound, that is until…

 

 

BOOOOO!!!

 

 

…the camera pans out and reveals the large form of Bastion attached to the boots. Bastion walks down the hallway with a huge scowl on his face, obviously looking for trouble.

 

(Riley) – Comet! Comet! It’s Bastion!!

 

(Comet) – It sure is citizen Riley. The villainous beast is back, apparently, and no doubt, looking for trouble. Perhaps he should go look for Va’aiga…cause last time I checked, the big man from New Zealand put this evildoer in his place. Even better…maybe they’ll meet up and kill each other.

 

(Riley) – Yeah, and then you can once again weasel out of your “super hero” duties.

 

Before Comet can comment on Riley’s wise-crack, the camera pans to the other end of the hallway and shows the dreadlocked showboat strolling towards Bastion in his normal confident manner.

 

(Comet) – Uh oh…Xstasy’s heading straight for trouble!

 

(Riley) – X’d do better to just turn in the opposite direction and run. Maybe Bastion won’t be able to catch him…cause we know that Bastion doesn’t care about anyone and has been known to attack anyone and everyone, completely unprovoked.

 

(Comet) – Hell Bobby…he’ll even kick your BUTT for just mentioning his name.

 

Meanwhile, the camera backs up to see both Bastion and X. Bastion, having seen X, stands firm in the middle of the hallway, his fists clenched at his sides. X, on the other hand, continues to stroll towards his best friend’s brother without hesitation, and air of joy about him. Bastion prepares for battle, but is caught entirely by surprise when X stops directly in front of him, but does not start swinging, doesn’t turn and run, doesn’t start to sweat, doesn’t say anything about him being a monster, doesn’t make any reference to how Bastion treated his best friend, doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t make any gesture towards him other than…

 

 

(Riley) – It’s about to be on!! Xstasy and Bastion are gonna…

 

(X) – Yo, what up B!

 

Bastion stares at X with a look of total confusion.

 

(Riley & Comet) – Huh?

 

(X) – Yo, it’s good to have you up here man…we’ll finally get a chance to catch up and stuff.

 

Meanwhile, seldom-used, Kevin Cole, comes running towards the two at top speed…

 

(Cole) – Ladies and gentlemen, Xstasy and Bastion are right over there, and it’s most certainly gonna come to blows here any second. We know that Bastion destroyed the Hville Thugg, his own brother and Xstasy’s best friend not long ago, and perhaps X wants revenge…or maybe Bastion’s just a monster and wants to give X the same fate he gave Thugg…

 

While Cole makes his accusations, he maintains his pace towards Bastion and X, all the while, looking at the camera.

 

(Cole) – That monster Bastion is out of control, and if he injures Xstasy right here, commissioner Mark Stevens needs to give serious consideration to legal action to have him removed…But we’re gonna…

 

(X) – Seriously man…it’s good to see you. It always upset me that we lost touch when I came up here, so to have you here…

 

Cole stops dead in his tracks now that he is close enough to hear the conversation between Bastion and X.

 

(Cole) – X!! How can you be friends with this…

 

 

 

 

 

 

POW!!!!

 

 

 

…but Cole’s statement shall never finish as he is thrown 20 feet down the hallway by a devastating right hand to his nose from the 7-footer! Xstasy doesn’t even give Bastion a look, but instead walks over to where Kevin Cole lays on his back holding his nose. Xstasy bends down close to Cole’s face…

 

(X) – I don’t know what that was all about, but YOU GOT KNOCKED THE F**K OUT!!

 

The fans cheer from the “Friday” reference, while Bastion stands a bit away, his face still showing anger and his fists still ready for a fight. Xstasy stands up and strolls calmly back over to Bastion…

 

(X) – Anyway yo…lemme run. But it was definitely phat to catch up with you man…we gotta chill or hang out or something.

 

Xstasy turns and departs in the same manner in which he arrived, leaving Bastion standing there like a big, dumb troll.

 

(Comet) – Holy crap! Did you see what Bastion did to our reporter, Kevin Cole?!?

 

(Riley) – Forget him…how come Bastion didn’t kick the crap out of Xstasy…he attacks everyone else?

 

(Comet) – I don’t know…why would X even be nice to Bastion, after what he did to Thugg. I’m very confused here Bobby.

 

(Riley) – As am I Comet…as am I.

 

Fade to commercial….

[Kaertos 0]

Backstage, correspondent Tia Naye stands near the curtain, where, on deck, Xstasy stands and prepares for his match with the Intercontinental/ Television Champion, Andrew Blackwell. As cheers flood the audience upon X’s image on the SmarkTron, Tia lifts a microphone up to her lips.

 

-Tia “This is Tia Naye, live once again with The Perfect Drug. Xstasy, give us your thoughts on this important match-up. It will be you, facing The Sacred One one on one.”

 

-Xstasy “My thoughts, T? Well, there’s not much to think. I’ve fought Blackwell a million times, and I’ve beaten him a million times… and tonight’s gonna be no different. He’s gonna come out all ‘Woe is me… feel my pain…’ and some other nonsense. Then we’re gonna get in the ring. He’s gonna do a few moves. He’s gonna try and try to withstand the withdrawal, but in the end, he’ll succumb to the Drug. It’s gonna force him into submission, in the middle of that ring!”

 

-Tia “I don’t get it, after winning against Erek Taylor twice, he gets a World Title shot, while you get an ICTV shot.”

 

-X “Heh heh… well, them’s the breaks. What can I say, except that pink paisley Patty Erek Taylor got his ass whooped by the champ, and I was glad to have seen it. Now its time to go to work.”

 

-Tia “So you’re not upset?”

 

-X “Oh, I’m upset. I’m damn near furious, but what am I gonna do, throw a little whiny temper tantrum? Or get my ass out there in front of all those XSSSSSSSSSTATIC fans, beat Sacred like he stole somethin’, and get some gold?”

 

-Tia “When you put it that way…”

 

-X “But don’t worry, Tia. It’ll happen one day. One day, the Joy of X will catch up to everyone in this federation, from the boys in the back, to the suits in HQ up in Chicago, to the… AAARRRGGGG!!!”

 

X’s tirade is suddenly interrupted and Tia Naye screams and drops her microphone, running away from the carnage. Sacred has leapt into the frame, the ICTV Title in his hand, and brought it down over the back of the Drug! Blackwell smiles at Xstasy, his nemesis, as he grabs the Drug by the hair.

 

-Sacred “Not much to say now, huh mate?”

 

The Aussie pulls Xstasy forward towards the curtain, before ramming his head into the wall. He then leads X through the curtain. The camera cuts to the ring, where Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley watch on their monitors!

 

-Comet “We need some help! Why would Sacred do something as dishonorable and villainous as to attack a fellow man when his back is turned. Their match hasn’t even begun!”

 

-Riley “He knows exactly what this is for. Sacred’s not giving up that title without a fight.”

 

-Comet “But no one deserves that kind of treatment…”

 

Andrew Blackwell and his victim finally emerge onto the stage, and the boos are violently overwhelming. Sacred drags X down the ramp, stopping in the middle to push him forward and send him sprawling to the metal flooring. X tries to get up, but stomps to his back keep him down as the Sacred One continues to stalk him.

 

-Riley “Sacred is smart… he knows that X is all about bragging rights and catchphrases. If the Australian can keep him down and out now, in the ring, he’ll be the only one bragging!”

 

Funyon decides not to bother with the introductions, and merely exits the ring while Sacred comes near. He grabs Xstasy by the arm, and whips him… CLANNNNGGGG!!

 

-Riley “Right into those steps!”

 

-Comet “This is supposed to be a sanctioned match, one on one, both men prepared. How is Xstasy supposed to be prepared for this?”

 

X arches his back, obviously in pain as Sacred gets him up again, lifts, and then charges, ramming Xstasy back first into the edge of the Apron!

 

-Riley “OUCH! Now that’s what I call good ring sense…”

 

Inside, the sanctioned Referee demands that they take it into the ring, but Blackwell isn’t done yet. He gives the Drug another ram into the Apron. And another… and ANOTHER! The livid crowd intensifies their reactions as Xstasy drops to the ground, obviously in a world of hurt. And Sacred just laughs.

 

-Sacred “You’re NOT beating me again!”

 

Andrew finally rolls Xstasy into the ring, sliding in after him and waiting for the bell…

 

DING DING DING

 

-Comet “The regulation time has started…”

 

Immediately Sacred drops his title and goes down for the pin.

 

O

N

E

T

W

O

O

O

N

O

 

-Riley “Almost!”

 

-Comet “It’s like Sacred HAS to beat Xstasy this time…”

 

The Drug barely gets the shoulder up and Blackwell whines in disappointment. He lifts the Drug by the hair again, this time positioning him in a headscissors. Sacred hoists Xstasy up over his shoulder, then drops to the mat on one knee, bending X’s back over his shoulder and then dropping him to the mat!

 

-Riley “What a Backbreaker…”

 

-Comet “Sacred’s going for an injury here! Xstasy’s entire back must be good and twisted by now!”

 

The Drug writhes, trying to stand. He swats a wayward arm to combat Blackwell’s advance, but the Sacred One merely laughs. He again gets Xstasy up, pushing him forward and ramming his back into one of the Turnbuckles! X sticks, and so his assailant lifts him again, this time taking him clear across the ring and ramming him into the OTHER turnbukcle! Xstasy drops now, and Andrew goes for another cover!

 

O

N

E

T

W

O

O

O

O

N

O

O

 

Another kickout, and Blackwell is furious.

 

-Sacred “STAY DOWN!”

 

He boots X there on the floor, before getting him to his feet again!

 

-Comet “Sacred, although dishonestly, has firm control of this one, and I don’t see how the Drug can come back at this point!”

 

SLAP!!!

 

-Riley “WHOA!”

 

-Curry “HOL LYCRA-COTTON BLEND! Xstasy just slapped the mess out of Andrew Blackwell!”

 

The Crowd goes bonkers as Sacred holds his chin! But the cheers immediately become boos when he SLAMS X’s dome-piece with a well placed forearm! The Drug goes to one knee, and a quick knee from The Sacred One sends him back down to the mat! He gets lifted, whipped, and on the bounce back, Andrew leaps into the air taking X down with a forearm smash!

 

-Riley “Now did you see that? Tell me you just saw THAT… SUCKAAAAA!!!”

 

-Curry “I saw it, just like I saw the blatant cheating from that villain Blackwell!”

 

O

N

E

T

W

O

O

O

T

H

R

N

O

O

 

-Curry “Xstasy won’t go down without a fight!”

 

-Riley “That’s not what the ladies tell me…”

 

-Curry “Get your mind out of the gutter, Robert!”

 

Still disappointed, Blackwell smiles sadistically at the golden title still lying face up on the canvas. He immediately gets Xstasy up, and positions him, with some struggle, over the title. Xstasy tries to fight, but with his back in pain and no recovery time, he finds it more difficult than usual. A quick knee to the gut, and a club to the back, is all it takes for Sacred to position him in a front facelock…

 

-Riley “Cruel Fate! It’s all OVER!”

 

“ATTENTIONNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!”

 

The opening riff of “Never Scared” begins, and the crowd launches its mixed reaction towards the entryway, as the hulking, 7’0”, well over 300 pound mass comes through it.

 

-Comet “BASTION?”

 

-Riley “Now this should be good…”

 

The Massive brother of the H-Ville Thugg immediately walks down the ramp straight for the ring, in full view of Sacred. Blackwell already has X hooked, but the huge black man heading for him breaks his concentration for a bit. As Bastion makes his way to ringside, he starts to enter, and Sacred does what any man of his character would do in the situation…

 

-Comet “Look at Sacred, he’s leaving X to the Beast!”

 

-Riley “Wouldn’t you do the same thing. He won’t lose the title on a DQ anyway.”

 

Bastion climbs in, standing over X’s body, which has since dropped to the floor. He looks once at the Perfect Drug, then at Sacred, and immediately makes his move…

 

-Riley “What the hell?”

 

The audience suddenly comes alive with cheers, and Sacred’s face transforms immediately from one of satisfaction, to one of absolute terror…

 

-Comet “In an interesting twist, the monster Bastion is now going after BLACKWELL!”

 

The Aussie immediately turns and runs around the ring as fast as he can. Bastion, much like Jason Voorhies of horror movie fame, continues to walk, stalking Sacred in a circle about the square. As Xstasy tries to recover, Sacred tries his best to keep the ring between him and Bastion at all times.

 

-Comet “Well, it should be interesting to see if Bastion can catch the Wily Sacred One.”

 

-Riley “I doubt it, but it would make for good television to see Andrew beat up that hoss!”

 

-Comet “I doubt it’ll happen.”

 

Bastion, while not the brightetst light on the street, definitely gets points for perseverance. He continues to walk around the ring, stalking Blackwell. The crowd calls for Sacred’s blood, actually cheering this odd event, until, suddenly, Little HVT bursts into an all out sprint! Sacred, already a bit winded from the wrestling and the chase, desperately increases speed, staying out of Bastion’s range, but allowing the monster to gain ground!

 

-Riley “Smart Strategy here…”

 

-Comet “Look at Blackwell run like a Scalded Dog!”

 

Without Warning, Sacred slides into the ring, determined to take the shortcut to the other side and thus escape the wrath of the Angrier Black Man. Unfortunately for him, another equally Angry Black Man is on his feet in the ring, with his wetsuit unzipped and pulled down off of his torso!

 

-Comet “WAIT…”

 

-Riley “LOOK OUT SACRED!!”

 

-Comet “X IS UP!!”

 

It doesn’t take long for a HARD knee to hit Andrew Blackwell’s gut! Xstasy spins while locking his head up, and drops down HARD! Unknown to the ref, who has been outside chasing this whole time, Sacred landed right on the gold title belt that was meant for Xstasy!

 

-Comet “XCEPTION! XCEPTION! XCEPTION!”

 

-Riley “Must you say it in threes?”

 

-Comet “It sounds better that way.”

 

-Riley “I think its annoying.”

 

-Comet “Awww, come on, citizen… all of the other announcers are doing it!”

 

The Drug climbs the near turnbuckle, with a little difficulty. He crosses his arms in the sign of the X, then leaps off, flipping forward while facing the crowd, and jumping backwards to complete a flip and land back first on TOP of Sacred! WHAMMMM!!

 

-Comet “That was the…”

 

-Riley “I know… ahem ahem… xclusion, xclusion, xclusion…”

 

-Comet “See, you’re getting the hang of it!”

 

The Referee immediately comes back to the action, as X covers Blackwell, hooks his leg, and tries to ignore the pain in his back…

 

O

N

E

T

W

O

O

O

T

H

R

E

E

YES!!!

 

-Comet “He Has the Pin!”

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

-Funyon “Here is your winner… and NEW INTERCONTINENTAL/ TELEVISION CHAMPION… XSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTASYYYYYYYYYY!!”

 

-Riley “Travesty!”

 

-Comet “We have a new champ, Robert! A NEW CHAMP! That’s always worth getting X-cited about!”

 

The people cheer as X gets up, and grabs the title half from under Blackwell. He sighs, and holds his back as Bastion looks on from outside. The Drug smiles, nodding at Bastion, and then climbs the near turnbuckle, displaying the title to his fans as flash photography bombards him on all sides! The big man takes a glance, and then just makes his way back up the ramp as “The Perfect Drug” plays loudly for all of the fans to hear.

 

-Riley “I can’t believe that! It was all Bastion’s fault! What does he have against Sacred?”

 

-Comet “Oh yeah, it’s Bastion’s fault for showing up in a match where X was broken, bruised, and taken advantage of unfairly beforehand! I don’t think Bastion’s involvement even begins to even the odds!”

 

-Riley “He won again, didn’t he?”

 

-Comet “Again, Sacred’s own foolishness… he left that illegal belt in the ring, and X hit the Xception over it! If he hadn’t been cheating, it probably wouldn’t be over!”

 

-Riley “This would make Xstasy a two time…”

 

-Comet “TWO TIIIIIIIIME!!!”

 

-Riley “ICTV Champion.”

 

-Comet “Listen to the Cajun Dome… they’re on their feet!”

 

Xstasy nods at the applause, then drops down, and heads out of the ring, leaving Sacred worse for wear in the center of the ring. The last thing he looks at is a fairly symbolic crowd sign near the ramp…

 

“LOSE = WORLD… WIN = ICTV”

 

Uncharacteristically… X loses his smile, sighs, and heads up the ramp…

[Kaertos 0]

SWF Lockdown returns from a commercial break and pans the Lafayette, Louisiana CajunDome! Fans are shown wearing the new “SUPERIOR ONE” shirt modeled on the old Magnificent Seven shirts, while pro-Craven merchandise is far less visible. In fact, anti-Craven signs abound (including “WAKE ME UP,” “CRAVEN MORE DICK” and the always-popular “KING OF FLAMERS”). The camera pulls back, focusing on the stage. The cage is already around the ring, and the lights reflect off it as the fans await the first combatant in the final contest of the night.

 

The lights cut out, the crowd going silent for a second. Suddenly, strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar and drums in the background as Saliva’s “King of My World” kicks in, the crowd beginning to boo as they realize who it is. As the first words kick in, the strobes cut out, a pale blue light covering the arena, illuminating the figure of Michael Craven as he walks out onto the stage, no expression visible on his shadowed face. Continuing his walk down to the ring, he turns around at the top of the ramp, walking backwards as he stretches his arms out wide, soaking in the crowd’s jeers. Halfway down the ramp, though, he abruptly spins back around, swinging his right arm in a straight path across the top of the stage.

 

 

BOOM!

 

 

A huge blast of bright white pyro kicks up, the smoke lingering on stage for quite some time as Craven finishes the spin, continuing his walk to ringside without interruption.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the heavily-salted snack treat, “the following non-title CAGE MATCH is scheduled for one fall. The only way to win is by pinning your opponent in the ring! Making his way to the ring, from Tampa, Florida and weighing in at 280 pounds, this is the King of Nightmares, MICHAEL CRAAAAAAAVEN!”

 

Craven coolly climbs the stairs, entering the ring through the door in the side of the cage.

 

“Good evening, fans,” says Cyclone Comet. “We’re here tonight for the main event, featuring Tom Flesher avenging ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens’ attack last week at the hands of Michael Craven in a cage. Flesher asked for the night off early on, but he was more than happy to pick this one up to…”

 

“Help his new running buddy out?” Riley spits to the side. “This pandering is digusting.”

 

“We see,” says Comet, “that Craven is entering through the cage door. Once Flesher and Craven are inside, that door will be locked, and no one will be leaving until one of these men has been pinned!”

 

Craven quickly scales the turnbuckle closest to him, opening his arms wide and soaking in the crowd’s response, a chorus of heavy boos, as a white spotlight shines down upon him, casting shadows across his face. Mike remains up top, staring back at the entryway.

 

“And his opponent…”

 

The lights go down and the SmarkTron begins glowing white. As the opening guitars of the Philosopher Kings’ “I Am The Man” vibrate through the arena, the words “WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION” fade onto the screen in thin blue lettering. The fans applaud, anticipating the entrance of the Superior One. After a few seconds…

 

 

BOOM!

 

 

An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena as the song starts to rock out over the sound system! 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 “THE MAN.” Flesher pauses on the ramp, crossing his arms over his chest as the fans applaud him. They continue cheering for him as he falls out of his pose and walks to the ring, his SWF Title belt slung over the shoulder of his blue warm-up suit.

 

Flesher climbs the stairs to enter the ring and, making sure to wipe his feet off on the apron, steps into the ring. As the music fades away, Flesher positions himself in the center of the ring. Funyon makes his announcement…

 

“Currently in the ring, from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds, the SWF World Champion, he is ‘THE SUPERIOR ONE,’ TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!”

 

Flesher plays to the crowd a bit and strips off his warm-up suit. Referee Matthew Kivell hands the title belt to the timekeeper and then locks the door as he calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

Flesher moves toward Craven, only to have the King of Nightmares tackle him to the mat with a running shoulder block! The fans boo as Craven takes the early advantage by attacking Flesher and then pounding him with lefts and rights!

 

“What the hell is wrong with these fans?” says Bobby Riley. “Michael Craven’s just trying to show them how wrong they are!”

 

“Craven blindsided the World Champion!” says Comet. “Flesher was unprepared!”

 

“That’s Flesher’s fault! The bell rang - he should be ready to go!”

 

Craven pounds Flesher with one more hard right hand, and then plays to the crowd for a moment. Flesher starts to get to his feet, and Craven keeps him under control. He whips Flesher to the ropes and ducks down to the mat. As Flesher rebounds, Craven swings his arm up, clobbering him with a forearm smash! Flesher staggers backwards, and the fans boo.

 

“Craven’s really handing it to Flesher tonight,” Riley says with a smirk. “Michael Craven was the man the Suicide King chose to represent him at Genesis IV.”

 

“… and he failed miserably,” adds Comet.

 

“That’s not the point. The point is that Craven is King’s heir apparent, as he showed in his confrontation with Mark Stevens last week. Maybe he isn’t as refined or technical as King was at his height, but he’s definitely a force to be reckoned with.”

 

Craven stays on Flesher, slamming another forearm into his jaw before grabbing him by the head and ramming him face-first into the nearest turnbuckle! The fans boo louder and louder as Craven shoves Flesher’s head into the buckle pad again before pulling his head back and slamming him face-first into the cage! Flesher stumbles backward, and Craven cockily plays to the crowd as Flesher holds his face.

 

After working the crowd for a few moments, Craven turns back to his opponent. Flesher is on one knee, working his way back up to his feet. Without a second thought, the Gulf Coast Hurricane spins around and pastes Flesher in the face with a right hand! Flesher steps backwards into the corner, and Craven charges in to nail him with a lariat! The fans continue booing as Craven drops to one knee and thrusts his shoulder into Flesher’s abdomen! The World Champion’s body jumps as Craven pulls back and slams his shoulder into Flesher’s stomach again, and again, and again! Finally, the King of Nightmares relents, and Flesher staggers out of the corner, falling flat to the mat! Craven drops down and rolls him to his back, covering him for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

but no more, as Flesher quickly kicks out and rolls to his stomach.

 

“And what exactly was that?” says Bobby Riley. “Craven’s taking it to Flesher like we’ve never seen before!”

 

“It’s early in the match,” chides Comet. “Be careful not to count your chickens before you find your rock and a hard place in the sun.”

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Well, you win some, you lose some,” shrugs Comet inscrutably.

 

Flesher starts to push his way to his feet, only to have Craven grab him and pull him into a front facelock. Flesher tries to hold back, but Craven effortlessly arches back and throws him to the mat with a vertical suplex!

 

“Plain old vertical suplex out of Craven!” says Bobby Riley.

 

“Plain? That isn’t something he’s willing to do often. Are you sure there wasn’t a step-over in there somewhere?”

 

“Vertical suplex, Comet.”

 

“Figure eight?”

 

“Bite me.”

 

“Black pyro?”

 

Flesher, though, doesn’t have the capacity for humor, as he’s too busy bouncing off the mat and slamming back down with a thud. Flesher arches his back, obviously in pain, but Craven simply boots him in the neck! He reaches down, grabbing the World Champion by the wrist and lifting him to his feet, then sending him careening into the corner! Flesher hits sternum-first, and Craven follows him in with a lariat! As Flesher leans in the corner, the King of Nightmares ducks down and mounts Flesher onto his shoulders, looking for an electric chair drop. He stands up… but Flesher grabs the ropes and holds on for dear life, keeping Craven from suplexing him! Flesher tightens his legs around Craven’s neck. Craven turns around to face the center, hoping to escape, but Flesher holds on to the top rope and maintains his head scissors! He “walks” hand over hand across the top rope, bracing as Craven continues to try to escape. Finally, Flesher pushes off the cage wall, log rolling through the air and slamming Craven to the mat with a cage-assisted flying head scissors! Craven does a full somersault and ends up on his back, holding his neck. Flesher hits the mat and rolls through, popping up to his feet just in time to throw a dropkick that catches Craven flush in the face!

 

“There we see an excellent show of agility by the Superior Citizen,” says Cyclone Comet. “Thomas has been working at wrestling away from the mat over the past few months, and there was an excellent example.”

 

“So because he can flip flop around, we’re supposed to cheer him?” asks Riley incredulously. He punctuates it with a sarcastic “Whee.”

 

“Remind me again why you like Citizen Craven, Robert? It certainly isn’t for his technique.”

 

As Craven reels from the dropkick, Flesher gets back to his feet and, just as Craven did to him, grabs his opponent’s wrist and throws him into the corner! He stays in the center of the ring, though, instead of charging in as he usually would. “Perhaps,” says Comet, “Flesher is being more cautious this week due to the lack of fortune he had in the corner last week with Erek Taylor.”

 

“Lack of fortune, nothing,” says Riley. “Taylor owned him in the corner. For free.”

 

“Sadly, Citizen Taylor could not repeat that performance anywhere but near the turnbuckle, and ended up on the business end of a Burning Hammer, a move that also put Citizen Craven out when he was still wrestling under the name…”

 

“Don’t go there.”

 

“Why not, Robert? Craven spent a great deal of his career wrestling under…”

 

“An assumed name,” spits Riley. “Now let’s never speak of that again.”

 

Flesher stays calmly in the center of the ring as Craven hits the buckles. He waits as Craven takes a moment to recover and starts out of the corner. As soon as Craven is a safe distance from the cage, Flesher charges at him and sends him to the mat with a Yakuza kick! The fans cheer loudly as Flesher breaks out his signature strike and Craven crumbles to the mat! Tom drops onto him, and Matthew Kivell counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

but no more, as Craven kicks out safely.

 

“The Superior Citizen nails the Yakuza kick, and that can’t be good for the Gulf Coast Hurricane,” says Comet. “I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

 

“I swear,” grumbles Riley, “those boots are loaded. It’s ridiculous!”

 

Craven starts to get to his feet, and Flesher takes a few steps back. As the King of Nightmares starts to regain his footing, Flesher leaps into the air and throws a low dropkick, catching Craven in the patella and sending him back to the mat! Flesher drops onto him, covering him, but Michael kicks out before a count is even made. “Of course,” says Riley, “it’s pretty stupid to go for a pin off a dropkick to the knee. It’s not like it does any damage that can’t be kicked out of.”

 

“Still,” says Comet, “it might give Flesher the opening he needs to wrestle Craven on the mat and grind him down into a catch-style pin.”

 

“Pfft.” Riley is incredulous. “Craven’s too strong for Flesher to beat him down on the mat. Too fast, too.”

 

“If nothing else, Flesher has shown us a great degree of superiority on the mat, and lately, all around the ring. I doubt anyone would claim that Craven will have an easy time defeating Flesher.”

 

Flesher backs away, and Craven gets to his feet. As he shakes off the blow to the knee, Flesher tries to grab him for an Irish whip. Craven, though, reverses the grip and sends Flesher toward the corner! He ducks down, and as Flesher starts out of the corner, Craven slams him in the jaw with a stiff forearm smash, relying on the strike that’s served him so well while Flesher is still too fresh to attempt any of his more intricate throws. Flesher backs into the corner, gritting his teeth to try to avoid showing too much pain despite the force of Craven’s strike. Craven, however, stays on him, grabbing him by the head. He slams Flesher face-first into the cage, then pulls his head back and slams him into the steel again! He lets Flesher take a few steps back and looks at his face. Disappointed at the lack of blood, Craven slams Flesher face-first into the cage once more! Flesher leans on the ropes, but still won’t bleed despite Craven’s efforts to the contrary. Frustrated, Craven bends Flesher over backwards, grabbing him in a reverse facelock that’s almost a dragon sleeper. He grabs Tom’s singlet with the free hand at the hip, using it for leverage to pull Flesher up and almost vertical. He then spins toward the center of the ring and sits out, slamming Flesher back-first to the mat! Flesher arches his back, the muscles surrounding his spine not absorbing the multiple suplexes well. He writhes on the mat for a few moments as Craven struts over to the corner. As the crowd boos, he begins climbing the ropes.

 

“Could it be?” says Comet dramatically as Craven ascends the turnbuckles. “Could the King of Nightmares be going this early on for the Kingdom Come shooting star knee drop?”

 

“I hope so,” says Riley. “I want to see Flesher carted out of here on a gurney after al the sucking up he’s been doing lately.”

 

“You, sir, are just angry that you gave up your spot in the human resources office.”

 

As Craven starts to get to the top, though, Flesher sits up. The crowd applauds as it becomes clear that he was selling the injury for an extended period to fake Craven out, and he sprints to the corner! Craven tries to balance, but Flesher rams into the corner and shakes the cage that Craven is holding on to for balance! The King of Nightmares quickly loses his footing and ends up spilling to the turnbuckle, sitting painfully on the pad!

 

“Well,” chuckles Comet, “I suppose this means Hollyanna won’t have that little brother named Edwin Steven.”

 

“Or Taylor Eric,” replies Riley. “After all, Craven and Taylor spent quite a bit of time together in X Force 9, and they’ve both matured into having similar leanings in the ring.”

 

“Yes,” agrees Comet. “They lean on the vile crutch of rule-breaking!”

 

“Oh no,” sighs Riley.

 

“They will lean on that crutch for as long as the medical necessity note of Evil allows them to, having it signed in spinning, incomprehensible black handwriting, a prescription for the breakdown of America’s moral fiber! Clearly, Tom Flesher, the pharmacist of Justice, must send this note back to the doctor, for only when Craven and Taylor are forced to stand on their own will we see true JUSTICE… IN… ACTION~!”

 

“Remind me to have my flight switched. I really don’t want to sit next to you again.”

 

Craven stays on the turnbuckle, momentarily stunned by the disappointing, but not unethical, treatment just given to his testicles. Flesher, meanwhile, wants nothing more than to capitalize, and so he grabs his opponent by the head and loads him up across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry! The crowd applauds as they see what’s coming. Flesher steps out of the corner and toward the center of the ring, where he readjusts his stance. Then, suddenly, he falls quickly to the side, slamming Craven head-first to the mat with a Death Valley Driver! The crowd cheers as Flesher keeps the leg hooked, rolling onto Craven for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT! Craven gets the shoulder up, and many of the fans groan disappointedly. Craven sits up, and Flesher stays behind him. Still not 100% after being thrown around like a rag doll for the first few minutes, Flesher decides to go with the easy course of action. He wraps one arm around Michael’s neck, tightening up a reverse chinlock.

 

“Here we have Flesher spending some of the match time regaining his conditioning,” says Comet, “while still maintaining pressure on the injury he tries to exploit. Flesher is a consummate ring general if I’ve ever seen one.”

 

“General, nothing. He’s barely a PFC. All he’s doing here is nursing a lung injury that wouldn’t nag him so much if he’d just spend some more time on the treadmill.”

 

“Are you accusing Tom Flesher of being out of shape, Robert?”

 

“You’re damn right I am! Flesher’s let everything slide ever since he beat Judge. Even his timing is off. I tell ya, you want hand-eye coordination, there’s nothing like trying to hide a chain while a ref checks you.”

 

Flesher leans on Craven’s body, putting pressure on his neck. Craven, however, decides he needs to escape. He gets up to one knee. Flesher tries to pull him back and leans on his neck, hoping to put him back on the mat. Craven, however, continues fighting his way up until he’s on his feet but bent over. He throws an elbow into Flesher’s stomach, but the World Champion holds on! Craven drives another elbow into Flesher’s gut, and this time the champ loosens his grip. Craven sends the message home with one more elbow, and this time Flesher slides back. He regroups, though, and quickly slaps on a side headlock! Craven, it seems, isn’t fatigued enough for the move to have its desired effect. In fact, Michael Craven is still fresh enough and strong enough to lift Flesher off the mat entirely!

 

“Craven has Flesher up for a backdrop suplex,” says Bobby Riley. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see him bridge it and pin Flesher with a move that he practically invented, just to prove a point.”

 

Craven does seem to be starting a backdrop suplex, but doesn’t finish the arch. Instead, with Flesher in the air, he backpedals toward the edge of the cage, and THEN finishes the arch. He launches Flesher backwards, releasing him to slam into the wall of the cage and then bounce off like a superball! Flesher staggers forwards and then collapses face-first to the mat.

 

“It’s almost,” says Cyclone Comet, “as if Citizen Craven has no regard for the health or safety of his opponent!”

 

“Well, why would you?” shrugs the Outsider.

 

Flesher stays on the mat for a few seconds, holding his ribs. He looks up at Craven with obvious fire in his eyes. It seems, though, that he can’t get up, as he stays on the mat and closes his eyes once again. Cockily, Craven struts over and grabs his opponent by the singlet. He pulls Flesher to his feet by the straps of his singlet, then nails him with a totally disrespectful back fist blow! Flesher reaches up, grabbing his face as Craven grabs him at the neck and thigh as if for a scoop slam. He lifts Flesher up parallel to the mat and holds him for a few seconds. As the crowd begins to boo, the Gulf Coast Hurricane drops to one knee, slamming Flesher’s ribcage down across his bent leg! Flesher cries out in pain as a small spray of red hits the mat. Matthew Kivell looks over, concerned, but Craven lifts Flesher up once again.

 

“Robert,” says Comet, “what’s –”

 

“It looks,” says Riley, only slightly self-conscious, “as if Craven may have busted Flesher open with that back-handed fist.” An uncomfortable second passes. “Good for him!”

 

“Sure, Bobby. I, uh, thought Flesher might have been badly injured by the rib breaker.”

 

“That’s a possibility too,” says Riley, waiting for a further cue from the ring.

 

Michael Craven lifts Tom Flesher up once again and drops him across his knee, hitting him with a second consecutive rib breaker! Flesher cries out in pain, but the sadistic Craven lifts Flesher up one more time and hits another sickening rib breaker! This time, he lets Flesher go after the maneuver, and the World Champion slumps to the ground. With the small blood stain on the mat next to Craven now starting to stand out, the camera focuses in on Flesher, who has a small cut in his upper lip that is still actively bleeding!

 

“It looks like Flesher got taken down the hard way,” says Riley, with a tone that is much more serious than even his usual commentary. It’s almost as if he’s saying something only to record it for posterity. “Definitely the hard way.”

 

Flesher stays on the mat, and Craven covers him, making sure to hook the leg. Matthew Kivell drops to the mat and counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and the crowd applauds! Craven stands up, lifting Flesher to his feet. He starts to throw Flesher to the side of the cage with an Irish whip, but Flesher plants his feet and throws an extremely stiff palm strike! Craven staggers a few feet back and stares angrily at Flesher, who follows it up with a palm strike notable only for its comparative lack of force. Craven responds with a right hand, and Flesher follows up with another palm strike. The two exchange blows, with Craven finally getting the upper hand.

 

“It seems,” says Cyclone Comet with a hint of relief, “that Tom Flesher isn’t suffering badly from that back fist that took him to the mat a few moments ago, and Michael Craven is absorbing even Flesher’s snuggest strikes.”

 

“Not that Flesher can hit as hard as Craven,” says Riley, much more relaxed.

 

“Are you kidding me? Flesher’s palm strikes are lethal!”

 

“Tell it to the judge, buddy. Craven’s fighting back, isn’t he?”

 

Craven grabs Flesher under both arms and half-whips, half-throws him into the corner! As Flesher lands, the wind knocked out of him, Craven follows him in with a clothesline! Flesher arches back, nearly flipping over the top rope, but finally coming to rest on his feet. Craven grabs him once again, picking him up and hammering him against the corner with a body slam! He hooks Flesher’s legs under the top rope, leaving him hanging there in the tree of woe position, and immediately the fans begin to boo.

 

“I think we all know what’s coming here,” chuckles Riley. “Craven used to take most of his direction from Edwin MacPhisto, but after his recent change of heart, he seems to have taken a liking to another classic Carnival member… Chris Raynor.”

 

Craven swings his leg back and throws it into Flesher’s abdomen, and shouts, “ONE!” The fans boo as Craven kicks Flesher again, shouting “TWO!” A few of the fans in the crowd are Craven supporters, and they count along as the King of Nightmares kicks again…

 

THREE!

 

And again…

 

FOUR!

 

And again.

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TEN!

 

After the last kick in Craven’s homage to Raynor’s cruel mockery of the ten-count punch in the corner, the King of Nightmares looses Flesher from his tree of woe position. Flesher crumbles to the mat, and Craven pulls him to the center, where he covers him. Matthew Kivell counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT! Flesher gets a shoulder up in time, and as the camera focuses in on him, his split lip seems to be clotting nicely. He stands up, but before he can get anywhere, Craven slams him in the back of the head with a lariat! As Flesher stumbles forward, the Gulf Coast Hurricane grabs him around the waist and locks his hands for a German! Flesher reaches for the ropes, lunging hard to try to hold on to the top cable and keep from getting thrown! He’s too far, though, and Michael Craven throws him back over his head, slamming him to the mat with a German suplex! Flesher cries out as he lands, but Craven simply rolls through. He stands up, sliding his arms up to Flesher’s neck in a full nelson. As the fans boo, Craven arches back and slams Flesher to the mat with a Dragon Suplex, but once again chooses not to bridge. Instead, he rolls through again and slams Flesher to the mat once and for all with a second Dragon Suplex! He DOES bridge this time and holds Flesher in a pinning position. Matthew Kivell counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE- NO!!!!!!!!! Flesher kicks out!

 

“Michael Craven executes the Chimera Suplex, but Tom Flesher kicks out!” declares Cyclone Comet. “That’s what they get for worshipping that vile, filthy animal in the first place.”

 

Flesher rolls over onto his stomach, holding his ribs and his back alternately. Craven looks out at the crowd and grins, dusting his hands off in a manner VERY much like the way Flesher used to, and the crowd boos him incessantly for it. Craven grins and lifts Flesher to his feet, slapping on another full nelson!

 

“Is he going for another Dragon Suplex?” asks Riley. “There’s no way Flesher could withstand that!”

 

He lifts Flesher up and shouts, “It’s time for NIGHT TO FALL!” Immediately, the crowd boos.

 

“No,” says Comet gravely, “he’s going to hit Flesher with the Nightfall Slam, that’s put out such skilled wrestlers as Andrew Blackwell!”

 

“How did you know about that? You were in Hong Kong.”

 

“Fiberoptics.”

 

He holds Flesher up and starts to swing him into the air, but, to Craven’s chagrin, Flesher doesn’t go anywhere! Flesher hooks his leg around Craven’s, keeping himself firmly in place! As he keeps his left leg wrapped behind the Gulf Coast Hurricane’s left knee, Craven releases the full nelson to try for a different attack. Flesher, however, keeps the grapevine and rolls to the side, turning the move into a rolling drop toehold! Craven falls forward, his face slamming into the steel, and Flesher stands up, recouping from the Chimera Suplex and catching his breath once again. Craven starts to get up, but Flesher grabs his leg and backs up, dragging the 280-pound King of Nightmares back to the center of the ring! With surgical precision, Flesher drops a knee into Craven’s spine, keeping him on the mat, and then sits flush in the center of his back. Then, adeptly, Flesher grabs Craven by the head and starts to force his right arm across his face to lock up the back-mounted dragon sleeper known as Superior Stretch Beta! The fans are on their feet!

 

“Could this be the untimely end of Milhouse?” cries Comet. “Surely, despite everything coming up Rosie, Michael Craven cannot escape this deadly submission hold!”

 

“What the hell is WRONG with you, Comet?”

 

Flesher tries to force his arm backwards, but Craven blocks it! The Superior One stiffs him in the side of the face, hoping to get him to drop his guard long enough to let Flesher slip the dragon sleeper in, but Craven manages to keep him from sinking it. Finally, Flesher forces his arm even harder, and Craven fights back with as much strength as he can! He forces Flesher’s arm away, and Flesher rolls with the momentum, spinning all the way around into a front headlock! The crowd applauds as Flesher locks on the deadly hold, standing up to force his hips into Craven’s head! The King of Nightmares struggles, but Flesher keeps the guillotine choke on as long as he can.

 

“This is blatantly illegal!” says Riley. “He’s choking the life right out of him!”

 

“Not only is it a cage match,” points out Comet, rules expert extraordinaire, “but Craven himself uses the guillotine choke as well. He calls it the Craven Clutch.”

 

“That’s not the point!”

 

Craven starts to fight his way out of the guillotine choke, and Flesher bails, sprawling backwards and grinding Craven’s face against the mat. The Gulf Coast Hurricane starts to step up, but Flesher springs forward and nails him in the head with a stiff knee strike! Craven stays down for a moment, complacent, but Flesher refuses to be fooled. He throws another knee forward, knocking Craven silly once and for all! Then, he loosens the front headlock and stands up, grabbing Craven around the waist with a reverse waistlock. The fans scream their approval as Flesher lifts the stunned King of Nightmares off the mat with a gutwrench. He starts the throw, but pauses. He props Craven up on one knee, and waves his right hand over his head in the baseball signal for “Home Run.”

 

 

The crowd, simply put, explodes!

 

 

“Flesher borrows Mark Stevens’ signal for the Walk-Off, and here comes the Ego Buster!” Cyclone Comet is clearly pleased with Flesher’s use of the Home Run signal, and grins broadly as flesher swings Craven up into the air. “Flesher and Stevens have a newfound friendship, and I suppose you could say that this…”

 

Flesher sits out, slamming Craven head-first into the mat with the brutal Ego Buster!

 

“.. is revenge!”

 

As the crowd leaps to its collective feet and begins to cheer and clap, Flesher stacks Craven up with his hips over his head. Matthew Kivell counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!

 

 

“Flesher nails the Ego Buster after signaling the Walk-Off, and takes the match!” says Cyclone Comet.

 

“Bastard,” murmurs Riley. “This is terrible. I can’t believe he put Craven out!”

 

Flesher stands up in the ring and Matthew Kivell raises his arm. “I Am The Man” fires up over the sound system, and the fans applaud. Kivell unlocks the cage door, but Flesher has already started climbing the nearest turnbuckle! Kivell hands Flesher the SWF World Championship belt, and as he reaches the top rope, Flesher poses on the buckle. He holds the Big Gold Belt over his head and stands in the corner as if to shout, “I’m the King of the World!”

 

“Tom Flesher has defeated Michael Craven yet again, this time in a cage!” declares Comet. “More importantly, he solidifies his friendship with Mark Stevens! We’ll see how this develops next week!”

 

The broadcast fades with an image of Flesher on the cage wall, playing to the crowd.

 

===

SWF Lockdown, October 22, 2003

© White Apple Productions. All rights reserved.

The Smarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising Workrate by Typing Faster.”