SWF Storm - March 27th!

[the.weej 0]

We’re greeted by an outside view of the Key Arena in passable Seattle Washington…home of the Seattle Sonics…Kurt Cobain…there’s probably an aquarium somewhere, if you look hard enough…and TONIGHT, the hosts of SWF Storm!!! The camera shoots into the arena, whilst the fans go through their whole ‘Yay, I’m on T.V, let’s throw our hands in the air and wave to no-one in particular’ routine…

 

 

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…before the shot cuts to the parking lot, without Comet and Riley even getting a chance to introduce themselves, or allowing the pyro guys to do their job. The reason we’ve cut back is soon evident, as a long white limousine begins to pull into the arena, no doubt heralding the arrival of someone very important. Or rich. Or both.

 

Nope.

 

It’s just Megan Skye.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

The crowd jeer wildly as The Toddess steps from the limousine, holding the door open as another figure follows…the figure of SWF young upstart Landon Maddix, kitted out in a smart looking shirt, jacket and pants for a change, and wearing a pair of sunglasses which are initialed ‘LM’ on the top side corners of the lenses. Maddix gives Megan a beaming smile, and adjusts his expensive looking jacket before delving back into the limousine…

 

…and re-emerging with a gold urn!?!

 

“Hey Megs…” Landon says as he pops his head back out of the limo. “Guess what.”

 

“What…” Megan replies…

 

“WE’RE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVEEE!!!!!”

 

Megan giggles, as a huge smile adorns Landon’s face.

 

“Man, I am fired up tonight Megan. Not only are we…LLLIIIIIVVVEEE!!! in the financial capital of the world. The home of the most mediocre NBA team since the Clippers."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

 

"Not only that...but tonight...I'm bringing the entertainment factor!"

 

"Landon...I've heard your singing..."

 

"I know. Gorgeous, ain't it? I could pass for one of Todd's Angels...if I weren't male of course. But it's not just about the singing. It's not just about my bee-you-tee-ful guitar. Oh no. This isn't Alan Clark in cocnert. This isn't the equivalant of some busker pitching up in the ring, asking for loose change while his mangey dog tries to gnaw it's own leg off. This...is gonna be entertainment! I've got everything I need."

 

Motioning towards the limo, Maddix grins.

 

"Everything I could possibly need for maximum entertainment. I shouldn't need a bit of it, seeing as I'm Mr Entertainment myself. But, should I need to pull out the 'big guns' so to speak, I will. I've got glow-sticks...a couple of monkeys."

 

"Monkeys!?!" squeals Megan. "I was in that limo with...monkeys!?!"

 

"Relax...they're safely caged. I've borrowed the rights to those Sesame Street puppets from Coy West. Hell, I've even got Gary Coleman in the trunk somewhere. Tonight is going to be a great night Megan."

 

Another grin adorns Landon's face, in a surprisingly good mood considering what happened on Smarkdown, as he strolls over to the boot of the limo and pops it open...the grin immediately disappearing, as his mouth falls agape.

 

"Gary!!!" Landon wails. "What...those were the snacks for the Unnamed dressing room!!! Oh boy...Duran's gonna kill me now...you're in big trouble mister..."

 

Suddenly, Gary Coleman's head pops out from the boot, surprisingly getting a big pop from the crowd.

 

"What'chu talkin' 'bout Landon!?!"

 

Maddix glares at Coleman for a moment, before snickering..."Man, I couldn't stay mad at you. Just...leave the monkeys alone."...Landon points his finger threateningly, giving another snicker before grabbing a bag from the boot and walking off with Megan. Meanwhile, Gary watches on smugly.

 

"Sucker...

 

 

...I knew exactly what he was talkin' 'bout."

 

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"Oh boy..." Cyclone Comet's voice suddenly cuts in. "...it's going to be a LOOOONG night."

 

"I sure hope so!" Bobby Riley beams in responce. "The longer this night is, the more entertainment we get! Eat your heart out Alan Clark!"

[the.weej 0]

BOOOM!

 

BOOOM!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!

 

The lights go up, the pyros go off, and we are LIVE! in the SOLD OUT Key Arena in Seattle! As the generic rock that is Storm’s theme music thunders out of the speakers the crowd go wild with their attempts to get onto the cameras for the viewing “pleasure” of those at home. Picking their targets carefully the crews focus on various home-made signs that the SWF faithful have brought along with them, including such masterpieces as “Dace Makes Me Horny!”, complete with a picture of Dace F’n Night (w/horns), “Flesher - Got Pies?” and even one middle-aged woman in the front row with a huge sign bearing a pic of Charlie Matthews and the words “He Can Grapple Me!”. Pausing for a misguided moment on one that reads “Toxxic = Straight-Edge, Bobby Riley = Bent” the cameras track to the announce table.

 

“Hello Citizens, and welcome to STOOORRRRRRRRMMMM!!” one half of everyone’s favourite SWF announce team bellows. “I’m CYYYCLOOOONNNNEEE COMET-”

“-and I’m embarrassed,” Bobby Riley finishes, casting a baleful glare at the masked superhero that sits beside him.

“We have a tremendous evening of wrestling excitement ahead for you,” Comet enthuses, “as not only do we have a monstrous main event of Toxxic vs Dace Night for the ICTV Title, but the other two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity take on the Insane Luchador and Mike Van Siclen for the Contendership to-”

“-more importantly, Comet,” Riley interrupts again, “Landon ‘La Cuchuracha’ Maddix will be performing tracks from the Unnamed’s latest album! I can’t wait!”

“Robert,” Comet asks acidly, turning the full force of his SuperStare on Riley, “could you please let me finish a sente-”

 

The crunching guitars of Lostprophet’s ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ starts to thunder over the PA system, cutting Comet off. On the Smarktron the words ‘Prepare To Be Proved Wrong’ flash up one after another before cutting to a clip of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the...

 

‘GO!’

 

BOOOM!!

 

...burst of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! The Key Arena erupts in boos as the familiar spiky-haired form of the SWF’s ICTV and Hardcore Gamer’s Champion emerges from behind the curtain, one belt around his waist and the other slung over his right shoulder. The usual lopsided grin is notably absent from Toxxic’s face tonight as he marches down to the ring, rolls in and snatches the mic from Funyon before the announcer has even decided whether to speak or not. Dragging a thumb across his throat Toxxic signals for his music to be cut, and even before the Lostprophets fade out the Straight-Edge Sensation starts to speak.

 

“All through the last five days people have been jabbering on and on at me about one pissing thing,” Toxxic begins, talking straight over the boos that arise from the crowd. “Namely, me and Jimmy Liston losing to the team of our beloved bloody Commissioner, Grand Slack Mark Stevens, and The Superior Arse Tom Flesher.” The crowd are in mixed opinions on whether to cheer the reference to the pin or boo the cheap insult, and end up doing both.

 

“Let’s get one sodding thing straight,” Toxxic continues. “I could’ve handled Flesher. I could’ve handled Stevens. If I’d had time to prepare.But it strikes me as somewhat unfair that I picked my partner right there and then, and Stevens makes me wait until thirty seconds before the match to reveal my second opponent when it was him all along! He could have said it straight in front of me on monday evening!”

 

“Toxxic getting straight to the point here, as ever,” Comet comments disapprovingly. “I apologise for the language this man is using, even if it is a little quaint.”

“But he has a point, Comet,” Riley argues. “Stevens COULD have told him the name of his second partner right there and then! Yet more blatant favouritism and victimisation by the Commissioner!”

 

“Well, last monday you all saw something very special,” Toxxic goes on, pointing out at the crowd. “You say Toxxic lose for only the second time in my SWF career - and I wasn’t even the man pinned. I lost once in February, I’ve lost once in March. And that’s it for this month, people! There is no damn way that Dace Night is beating me for this” he hoists the ICTV belt into the air “tonight on Storm! It is NOT going to happen!”

 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Comet mutters.

“Always with the ladies!” Riley shudders. “Can’t you concentrate on the job in hand, you disgusting pervert?”

“...”

 

“And the reason it’s not going to happen?” Toxxic asks rhetorically, turning on the spot whilst displaying the belt to the crowd. “Cos I’ve got a plan, people. You can’t make a plan when you don’t know who one of your opponents is, but I made a plan after the match to drop Mark Stevens on his head, and” Toxxic smirks “it worked beautifully. I’ve had five days to plan for tonight, and I can guarantee that Dace won’t know what hit him.”

 

The SWF’s double champion turns to stare into a nearby TV camera. “I’m not afraid of that big bastard Aecas, Dace, and I’m certainly not afraid of you. If you think having your friend at ringside on guest commentary will help you... if you think I’m just a “little poser ass bitch” who can’t back up his talk... if, above all else, you think that you are better than me...”

 

Toxxic pauses to let the crowd know what’s coming next.

 

“...Prepare to be proved wrong!”

 

Chucking the house mic back at the startled Funyon, Toxxic rolls under the ring ropes again and storms off up the ramp, ignoring the jeering fans that flank him.

 

“Well, our Double Champion certainly very vehement this evening,” Comet says. “I’ve no doubt that Toxxic can back up a certain amount of his talk, but saying he can beat Dace Night... well, there’s a limit!”

“Oh come on Comet, Horrorcore is nothing when set against the Straight-Edge Sensation!” Riley replies. “I’m looking forward to this match just so I can gloat as Dace gets pinned!”

“I doubt Aecas would like that. And he’s sitting next to you.”

“Why me?”

“Because I want to live.” Turning away from his partner and addressing the camera and the millions [AND MILLIONS] of SWF devotees at home, Comet flashes his widest grin and turns into PIMP MODE~!

“It’s going to be a fantastic show, everyone, and we’re kicking it off with Johnny Dangerous vs new boy Eddie J - NEXT!”

Edited March 28, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

Card:

 

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Toxxic vs Dace Night

Special Guest Commentator: Aecas

Speaking of people who are after other people, Aecas is most definitely interested in prizing one of the upstart Toxxic's, the SWF's most recent double champion, titles. Unfortunately for him, he must sit on his hands as his friend Dace Night does battle for the straight-edger's other gold belt. Not that Toxxic's going to be giving anything up without a hell of a fight--especially considering his last match was him getting swatted down by the SWF Commissioner himself! As much as Grand Slam may despise the double-talking, two-timing, uber cocky additude of Toxxic (something he's all too familiar with), Lockdown may only serve to fuel his fire even more. Dace Night might be one of the most proficient technical wrestlers in federation history, but Toxxic is determined to be here to stay... no matter what the commissioner, or the third man at the announcer's desk may have to say about it.

Rules: Straight singles match. Aecas could write for this, but I don't know why he'd want to.

 

"The Notorious" John Duran vs "Coyote" Coy West vs Ann "Ichiban" Onita

Well, there's no doubt that John Duran wants a peiece of the SWF World Champion, but for now, but of course, he's going to have to earn it, first. Nothing new for Duran--he's clawed tooth and nail for everything he's ever gotten in life, let alone the federation. He faces off against Ann Onita, who has become Grappler's apparent, and unusual, ally, and the Coyote, facing off against more prestigious opponents after an... interesting match against Alan Clark.

Rules: DQ, count-out, etc apply. First pin wins.

 

SPECIAL PRESENTATION~!

Landon Maddix will be preforming an in house concert including select cuts from the Unnamed's new album (what the hell were we thinking?), "Why We're So Great," from White Apple records. The track, "Keepin It Real, G. Todd and L-Mad (feat. Redman)" is not expected to be featured, thank god.

 

TAG TEAM TITLE CONTENDERSHIP

Janus and Aecas vs Mike Van Siclen and Insane Luchadore

2/3 of the Unholy Trinity tag up for the first time in a dog's age, against the slightly unusual (though historically rich, kinda) team of MVS and IL. The winner gets a shot at the tag champions, just to show there ARE more than two teams in the division, dangnambit.

Rules: Standard tag match rules. Remember the tag ropes, f00ls.

 

CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Alan Clark vs "The Superior One" Tom Flesher

Though surely not swayed by Flesher's usual A+ preformance, despite his month off, in a tag match at Lockdown, where the commissioner made a surprise, one-night return, Mark Stevens has seen it fit to let Tom Flesher pick up right where he left off: Battling for cruiserweight supremacy. Flesher's no doubt set for the task, although... has anyone noticed the Superior One got a little... beefy over the last month?

Rules: Crusierweight rules.

 

Edward James vs Johnny Dangerous

Sometimes, you don't need much of a summary. Johnny smacked down Jimmy Liston a few shows ago, and he faces off against relative newcomer Edward James in hopes he can do it again to kick off Storm. God willing, he'll have a bit more competition this time...

Rules: Standard singles match.

[the.weej 0]

“Welcome to SWF Storm, Citizens,” exclaims the Federation’s Masked Hero as the show comes rocketing back from commercials. “We are coming at you live, tonight, from the sold out Key Arena in Seattle, Washington! Giving all of you viewers at home the scoop on all the action will be me, alongside my obnoxious broadcast partner, Bobby Riley, and I am CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!”

 

“Ugh,” groans Bobby. “That just becomes more and more annoying every show maybe you should find a new line.”

 

“Perhaps,” replies Comet, “but only when you find a new wardrobe. That pink blouse you’re wearing is quite unnerving.”

 

“It’s not a blouse,” snaps Bobby, “it’s a cowboy shirt!”

 

“Right, Anyway, Folks, tonight is a night of non-stop action as we bring you Alan Clark versus Tom Flesher for the Cruiserweight Championship, Toxxic versus Dace Night for the ICTV title, a tag team contendership match, and Landon Maddix…LIVE and in concert!”

 

“Oh,” says Bobby, his eyes twinkling. “Landon Maddix in concert, and we have front row seats! The only way this could get better would be if Landon threw me his shirt!”

 

“But first up this evening is a debut match from rookie Edward James,” continues Comet, completely ignoring Bobby’s comment, “who will be facing off against one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions in Johnny Dangerous. Successfully derailing the Barracuda tonight would definitely make some heads turn as the Commissioner certainly has handed Citizen James a challenge for his first match.”

 

“After missing his flight to Storm he’s lucky he wasn’t handed a pink slip,” spits Bobby. “But alas, if that were the case we wouldn’t have to watch Johnny either.”

 

“Or you for that matter,” adds Comet. “I think it’s time to get this show in the books though.”

 

As Comet finishes his statement the house lights dim and a snazzy remix of Darkest Omen pounds out from the speakers, signaling the entrance of the SWF’s newest superstar! Edward swipes aside the curtain and strolls out onto the stage to a nice welcome pop from the Seattle fans.

 

“Introducing first,” begins Funyon, “in the following contest scheduled for one fall, he weighs in at two hundred seventy-six pounds and hailing from Redwater, Alberta, Canada… Ladies and Gentlemen, this is EDWAAAAAAARD JAAAMEEES!!”

 

Pumping his arm into the air as he hears his name announced, Edward begins a trot down the ramp. Outstretched hands from the fans at ring side are all given high fives before Edward slides into the ring and takes to the nearest turnbuckle, raising his arms out to all of Seattle!

 

“Oh great,” moans Riley, “another one of these crowd whores! I hate him already.”

 

“Give him a chance first,” replies Comet, “I’ve heard some good things about his time in the Indy Circuit.”

 

Edward steps down from the turnbuckle and heads to the far side of the ring as his music slowly fades, a voice picks up from the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice…

 

“Johnny Dangerous~!”

 

“After the Flesh” thunders across the Key Arena as the stage begins to fill with the haze of white smoke swirling out from the sides. Dozens of strobes light up the set, piercing through the smoke and partially illuminating the Barracuda as he steps out from backstage, dressed in his sleek-black casual attire with a pair of high-tech shades to a magnificent pop!

 

“AAAAND his opponent,” begins Funyon. “Weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, and hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada, he is one half of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation’s Tag Team Champions, I give you ‘The Barracuda’, JOOOOOOOHNNY DAAANGEROUUUUS!!”

 

“The last time we saw Operative Dangerous in singles action he was able to overcome his opponent in record time,” reports Comet as Johnny strolls down to the ring. “This time, however, the Barracuda is going to have a little more of a challenge if he wants to keep his winning streak alive.”

 

“Winning streak,” mumbles Riley. “You know… if I only wrestled once a month I’d probably never loose either!”

 

“I’m quite sure there are some things you have yet to ever loose either, Citizen Robert,” quips Comet.

 

“… What’s that suppose to mean,” ask Bobby, the obvious sailing right over his head.

 

“Nevermind.”

 

After sliding into the ring, Johnny pops up to his feet and hands off his tag team title belt to Kivell, then turns back towards the fans and…

 

 

WHAM!!

 

 

… Edward rushes forward and slams his fist straight into the side of Johnny’s head, knocking the Secret Agent flat on his ass!

 

“Whoa,” shouts Bobby, “now that’s what I like to see! This rookie is wasting absolutely no time in knocking Johnny’s block off!”

 

Kivell quickly signals for the bell as Johnny scrambles to get back to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his sudden panic!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bells gone,” says Comet, “and Johnny is going to really need to keep on his toes tonight or he could find himself looking up at the lights in a hurry!”

 

Johnny frantically slings his arms back to remove his trench coat after getting back to his feet, but Edward isn’t about to give Johnny any chance after seeing the Barracuda’s match against Liston and closes in! He swings his fist out again, but Johnny dodges to the side and quickly wraps his coat around James’ swinging arm, tightens down, then yanks the towering Edward down to his level and BLAST the Rookie in the chin with a side kick!

 

CRACK!

 

“Who the hell does he think he is, Steven Segal,” mutters Riley, as Edward drops to the mat. “That should be illegal anyway.”

 

“I don’t know one way or the other about that one,” says Comet, “but you have to hand it to the Barracuda for having some great improvisation there.”

 

“Well, gee, yeah, but not all of us are trained Secret Agents,” replies Bobby, rather hatefully. “Using those kind of moves should be banned from this organization as it just simply isn’t fair! You wouldn’t expect someone who has never trained as a wrestler to walk in here and take on a ring general like Toxxic, now would you?”

 

“Well I don’t believe Johnny was ever trained to wrestle before coming to the SWF,” replies Comet. “Anyway, back to the topic on hand… ”

 

Johnny takes a step back, allowing his opponent to get back up as he strikes a martial arts pose and gets a pop from the fans! Edward gets back to his feet and carefully removes the coat from his arm and tosses it out of the ring as his other hand gently massages his chin. He shakes his finger at Johnny as if to say “Alright, you got me,” then steps in towards the middle of the ring as the pair makes a quick circle of each other, looking for an opening. They finally meet in a collar-and-elbow tie up, but Johnny knows he won’t be able to compete in a test of strength against this opponent, so he quickly drops down, hooking the leg, and flips Edward over onto his back, then drops his elbow into the Rookie’s chest!

 

“Some quick moves by the Barracuda there,” notes Comet. “Johnny is wisely keeping Edward off his feet as he *knows* he is outclassed in the strength division.”

 

Edward doesn’t stay down for long however – he quickly rolls back to his feet and jogs forward as Johnny swings his fist out, smacking the Rookie in the side of the face, but Edward simply fires back with the point of his elbow, gnashing the Secret Agent in the temple!

 

“Did you see that, comet,” ask Bobby, “Edward James was completely un-phased by Johnny’s punches, we just might have us a new no-selling bastard on our hands!”

 

Johnny stumbles across the ring, holding dearly to the side of his head. Edward chases after, looking to plow Johnny face first into the mat with a running clothesline as he comes in from behind. Edward swings his mighty arm out… but the second he does, the Barracuda ducks down, seemingly playing opossum, and pops up behind Edward the jumps up…

 

 

WHAM!!

 

 

… And sinks both feet into Edward James’ spine with a double foot Drop Kick, sending the Rookie tumbling to the mat!

 

“Oh,” cries Comet. “I think the entire world felt that one!”

 

Edward scrambles towards the ropes and pulls himself to his feet with one hand, the other clutching his back. He rest himself across the top rope, hanging his chest against it as he tries to quickly work the kink out… And the fans begin to cheer heavily as they get the same idea as Johnny does, with the opening Edward set himself up for. Johnny hits the ropes behind Edward and springs back across the ring, then leaps into the air over an ‘imaginary’ partner and comes crashing down on top of Edward’s back!

 

WHAM!!

 

“Slam Dance,” calls Comet. “That’s one of Wild and Dangerous’ moves. I can’t say I have ever seen Johnny execute that without the Wildchild’s assistance before.”

 

“Hot damn,” replies Bobby, “Johnny couldn’t be learning to walk on his own finally, could he?”

 

Edward steps off the ropes, stunned, and writhing in pain, and unexpectedly walks right into the waiting arms of the Barracuda! Johnny quickly hauls Edward up into a fireman’s carry takeover before spinning around…

 

WHAM!!!!

 

… And planting him into the canvas with his patented Fallaway Slam!

 

”MI Slam,” barks Comet. “Edward fell right into Johnny’s hands there, and it’s going to cost him the match!”

 

“That stupid Rookie,” spits Riley, “he practically gave himself to Johnny with that last one!”

 

Johnny hooks the leg and pulls in on it, firmly planting Edward’s shoulders to the mat as Kivell drops to make the count…

 

 

ONEEE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“By Zeus,” shouts Comet, as the crowd explodes into cheers. “Citizen James just kicked out of the MI Slam, what an impressive feat by the Rookie!”

 

“Ha!” snorts Riley. “Look at Johnny’s face I think he’s more shocked than anyone else here!”

 

Sure enough, Johnny’s chin is left resting on the canvas! All he can do is stare in awe as Edward pulls himself back up to his feet.

 

“And if Johnny can’t put Edward James away with an MI Slam,” continues Riley, “how does he even think he’s going to win this match!?”

 

None the less, Johnny storms across the ring and recklessly swings for Edward’s head, but the Rookie tosses his forearm up for the block and launches his own fist back into the Barracuda’s skull!

 

WHAM!

 

The blow nearly takes Johnny off his feet, sending him staggering backwards as Edward heads for the ropes! Edward bounces back towards Johnny, and absolutely LEVELS the Barracuda with a running clothesline! As Johnny drops to the canvas Edward keeps his momentum climbing, heading across the opposite side of the ring now. Edward hits the ropes again, and comes charging back just as Johnny gets back to his feet, and once more SLAMS his arm into Johnny’s throat, knocking him flat on his back!

 

“Edward James is on fire here tonight,” shouts Comet. “That MI Slam seems to have done nothing more than motivate this young Superstar to fight even harder!”

 

Grabbing Johnny into a quick arm wrench, Edward pulls him to his feet then steps forward to whip him across the ring. Johnny hits the ropes and springs back as Edward trots forward…

 

 

CRACK!!

 

 

… And paste the Secret Agent in the mouth with a Big Boot!

 

“Right in the kisser,” cheers Bobby. “And we have a cover!”

 

 

ONEEEE!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

 

 

KICKOUT!!!!!!

 

“No,” shouts Comet, “kickout just before three!”

 

Johnny begins to push himself off the mat, but Edward lends a helping hand as he floats around behind Johnny and locks his hands around the Barracuda’s waist and hauls him clean off his feet…

 

WHAM!

 

… And slams him neck and shoulder’s first into the mat with a German Suplex!

 

“Edward is really keeping his focus around Johnny’s neck,” observes Comet. “Two stiff clotheslines and now he’s taking it a step forward with a German Suplex, Johnny’s going to be aching in the morning!”

 

Edward waste little time as he drops to his knees and pushes both his palms into Johnny’s chest, awaiting the count!

 

 

ONEEE!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

 

“Todd damn it,” shrieks Riley. “Can somebody please kill Johnny’s fighting spirit? I mean come on, just once I’d like to see him stay down!”

 

With a handful of hair, Edward pulls Johnny to his feet… but Johnny quickly smacks the hand away and jabs Edward’s chin! Unfortunately the Rookie doesn’t even flinch! He fires back with a fist of his own, only his knocks Johnny down to one knee! Satisfied that he has Johnny subdued, Edward jerks Dangerous to his feet with a quick tug of his arm, then once again steps forward to whip Johnny across the ring, only this time whipping him towards the turnbuckles and trotting closely behind him!

 

“What’s he doing,” ask Bobby. “It would be wise of Edward to keep Johnny on the mat, not constantly pull him to his feet.”

 

“I was beginning to wonder that myself,” Comet replies. “I’m sure Edward has some reasoning behind his logic though.”

 

But as Johnny nears the turnbuckle he leaps to the top then springs off, nailing Edward in the face with the sole of his foot!

 

CRACK!

 

“Damn it,” shouts Riley. “I knew he should have kept him grounded!”

 

Edward staggers backwards, both hands cupping his face as Johnny smacks the palm of his hand against his head to knock the cobwebs loose while stepping in towards James. Johnny grabs Edward’s hand and pulls it down from his face, then SLAMS the palm of his hand into Edward’s face, right between the eyes, with a Shotei Palmstrike!

 

WHACK!

 

Edward goes stumbling back, and Johnny gives chase, peppering the Rookie with a series of quick right hands, and forcing him all the way into the ropes! Johnny grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but before he can, Edward reverses, sending the Barracuda on the trip instead! Johnny hits the ropes and rebounds as Edward steps in looking to land another Big Boot, but as the Rookie swings his foot out Johnny ducks down and sails right under the foot, slamming on the breaks as soon as he gets past James, then leaps up…

 

CRACK!!

 

… And kicks his foot into the back of Edward’s head!

 

“And Johnny counters with a Enzuigiri,” shouts Comet, “catching Edward James totally off guard!”

 

Stunned out of his mind Edward staggers a step forward then haphazardly spins on his heel, walking right into a-

 

“-Johnny Kick,” shouts Comet, as Johnny’s foot slices across James’ face! “But wait… ”

 

Edward staggers two steps back, and surprisingly still stands to the shock of the entire arena!

 

“Holy s(Bleep),” shouts Bobby, “the Rookie still stands, either he has one hard head or Johnny has one weak kick!”

 

Growing somewhat peeved by Edward James’ resilience, Johnny takes a step back then charges forward, and with a ferocious growl he launches his foot straight through the air, and SLAMS THE HEEL OF HIS FOOT STRAIGHT INTO EDWARD’S FOREHEAD!!

 

KAAAAAAA-RAAAAAACK!!

 

“And that was an absolutely brutal Johnny Kick,” shouts Comet, “but we have already seen this young Superstar walk away from an MI Slam practically unscathed, and refuse to fall to one Johnny kick, will THIS be enough?”

 

“I doubt it,” answers Riley, “It take a lot more than anything Johnny could offer up to keep this man down!”

 

But the Barracuda doesn’t drop down and take the pin, instead he back steps away from Edward and slices his finger across his throat to a tremendous pop!

 

“Oh no,” cringes Comet, as Johnny heads to the turnbuckle. “I think Johnny realizes what it will take to put Edward James down; he’s going for the D.F.A.!”

 

“He wouldn’t,” snaps Bobby.

 

Completely ignoring Kivell’s orders to get down, Johnny stands tall on the top of the turnbuckle with his back to the ring. He stands for a moment, soaking in the cheers of the fans, then vaults off the turnbuckle, back-flipping through the air as hundreds of flash bulbs explode and bringing his feet out as he unfolds…

 

 

WHAAAAAAAM!!!!

 

 

… And DRIVES both feet into Edward’s sternum, causing the Rookie to convulse on impact!

 

“Moonsault Double Stomp,” calls Comet, shouting directly into his mouthpiece to be heard over the roaring crowd. “If Edward James gets back up after that, I’ll un-mask!”

 

Johnny stands firmly on his landing spot—Edward’s chest—and waits as Kivell drops down for the count.

 

 

ONEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

After Kivell signals for the bell, Johnny steps down off Edward and lets out a sigh of relief. “After the Flesh” pounds from the speakers, and Kivell returns the Tag Team title to Johnny then grabs him by the wrist and raises the Barracuda’s arm in victory!

 

“The winner of this match by pinfall,” announces Funyon, “JOOOOOOOOHNNY DANGEROUUUUUUS!!!”

 

“Edward James may have lost his debut match but he gave Johnny Dangerous one heck of a run for his money,” says Comet. “He can take pride in THAT fact, even in defeat.”

 

“Yeah right,” disputes Bobby, “Edward’s really going to be thanking Johnny for trying to cave his chest in. Don’t be surprised if we see Johnny’s face on the back of a milk carton next week!”

 

Johnny heads to the edge of the ring and raises his arms out to them, unaware of Edward James slowly getting back up to his feet. Edward firmly clutches his chest and grits his teeth down in pain as his eyeballs catch drift of Johnny. He stalks in from behind and gently taps his finger on Johnny’s shoulder, prompting the Barracuda to spin around defensively and come face to face with a snarling Edward James!

 

“So much for all that crowd whoring, I knew he’d come to his senses,” shouts Bobby, rather excitedly.

 

But Edward reaches out for Johnny’s hand and gives it a firm shaking to a tremendous pop from the Seattle Fans!

 

“So much for your conclusion, Robert,” Comet mockingly says. “Edward knows that Johnny had to do what he had to do in order to win against him, and he RESPECTS him for that. That’s something you don’t see a lot of these days.”

 

“We don’t want to either,” snaps Bobby. “People don’t pay to see some after school special they want blood and guts this kind of crap is a detriment to our business!”

 

“So says you, Robert. Anyway, we have more coming up next as Alan Clark defends his Cruiserweight Championship against the ‘Superior One’ Tom Flesher!”

 

In the ring, Johnny grabs Edwards arm and raises it with his to the fans who are all still cheering…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT.

Edited March 28, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

As the scene fades back into the Key Arena in Seattle Washington, the spin-off worthy duo of Benjamin Hardy and Gus the camera guy are stood backstage, and seemingly the hallways are quiet. Makes a change from when Va'aiga was knocking everyone on their asses...

 

"So anyway..." Ben suddenly blurts out, as if in mid conversation. "...I said to the guy 'I asked for large fries. These are clearly medium.' So he snaps back that I should quit causing a scene. So, I said 'I'm not causing a scene, YOU are!'...and then I threw the fries in his face and ran off. Needless to say, I had the last laugh."

 

Gus lets out an audible sigh from behind the camera, as Ben begins to whistle to himself.

 

"Yeah...I'm bored too." snaps Gus.

 

"Oh...sorry Gus."

 

An awkward silence descends on the two, before Ben unconsciously begins to whistle again.

 

"Jeez..." Gus murmers, as Ben realises and stops.

 

"Where the heck is everyone today? Usually we're run off our fee..."

 

"LOOK NO FURTHER BOYS!"

 

 

A voice booms through the corridors, as Gus (with camera) and Ben both wheel around...to see Landon Maddix strolling down the hallway with Megan Skye close behind him, and a guitar now over his shoulder and the gold urn in his hand.

 

"Shouldn't you two be...you know...working." Maddix sneers.

 

"Well, now you're here, maybe we can get a few words?" Ben asks. "Concerning perhaps...your match on Smarkdown with Wi..."

 

"Yes" Maddix intervenes. "You may ask me about...my upcoming entertainment extravaganza!"

 

"Err...ok...what exactly is it?"

 

"To be honest, I don't thing there's even a word for it. I'd call it an entertainavaganza...if such a word existed. Simply put...tonight is the night Landon Maddix shines. Mr Entertainment. That's me. Tonight I've got Todd's blessing to go out and entertain the un-washed masses. And as you can see...I've got my guitar at the ready. Guess who gave me this?"

 

"Well...I already know. It was Ala..."

 

"Alan Clark did. I bet he's regretting that now...after I turned his other guitar into nothing more than very cheap sawdust. Well, tonight, I'm going to be entertaining the masses...and I'm going to do so by showing Alan Clark that I am simply better than him. At signing. At playing 'gee-taarr'. At wrestling. At getting..."

 

Landon smirks at Megan...

 

"...the ladies. Everything. This guitar is tonight going to fill this air with the sound of sweet, sweet music. I'm going to be playing some of my greatest hits. And Alan...I really do hope you'll be watching tonight. You might learn something. So buddy...while you're crying the blues over Ron Flesher taking your belt..."

 

"It's Tom Fles..."

 

"Whatever. Either way...Alan, when you're sitting in your locker room singing the blues...make sure you've got that monitor on because I'll be showing you what a concert is all...all...er...I...have to go now."

 

Landon stutters out the last few words, before grabbing Megan by the hand and pulling her off down the corridor at speed. A confused Ben glances at Gus, but suddenly has his attention caught by a figure standing at the opposite end of the corridor...

 

 

...Alan Clark, looking on at Landon, and nodding to himself intensely.

[the.weej 0]

This section of the locker room is empty. Often, it’s not even used… after all, the SWF hasn’t had a Cruiserweight Championship for quite a while, and in any case there hasn’t been a strict weight limit for it. Now, though, with Commissioner Mark Stevens running a tight ship, we really have no choice but to weigh in the Cruiserweights before title matches.

 

“Clark!” Road agent Alyson Reischl calls out, resetting the scale to zero. Alan Clark steps forward, in his t-shirt and baggy jeans. He steps on the digital scale, which bounces back and forth for a few seconds before settling on 224.3 pounds.

 

Clark grins. “I had a light lunch today.”

 

“Alright, step down,” Alyson says dryly. “And… Flesher! … Oh, my.”

 

Tom Flesher, in his competition singlet, steps on the digital scale with a smirk on his face as the road agent gives him the once-over about six times. He watches the digital readout bounce for a few seconds and then looks at the output.

 

234.7.

 

“Alright, Taamo, you’re five pounds over,” Reischl says.

 

“Pardon me?” Flesher seems genuinely surprised.

 

“There’s a 230-pound weight limit in the cruiserweight division.”

 

“Well, I KNOW that. I just can’t believe I’m over… I had a salad last night an everything.” He sighs. Okay, how much time do I have?”

 

“Not enough,” Alyson says. “You’re on after this commercial.”

 

“WHAT?! What the hell kind of place is this? I don’t even have time to cut weight?!”

 

“Sorry, Tom. I wish I could... do something for you.” She bats her eyelashes.

 

Flesher growls, grabs his ring gear and storms out of the room, leaving a befuddled Clark in the room with Reischl. She looks at him, and then sprints toward the hall.

 

“WAIT! I can help you dehydrate!” she shouts out the door, as the segment fades to black.

Edited March 28, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

The fans in the Key Arena are going wild as SWF Storm returns from a commercial for Chef Boyardee pasta featuring Coy West and a cast of thousands (“Them thar’s mah kids, and if there’s one thing they like…”). The fans are shown waving signs that include “Notorious P.I.G.,” “Straight-Up Horrorcore” and one particularly intricate sign showing a drawing of Alan Clark passed out next to a giant martini glass. The caption? “Clark’s a lightweight!”

 

“Ahh, irony,” chuckles Bobby Riley. “Clark might be a lightweight, but Tom Flesher certainly isn’t! MAN, did he get pudgy.”

 

“As we saw before the break,” says Comet, “that is in fact true. The standard Cruiserweight Division weigh-in took place before the commercial, and while Alan Clark was comfortable below the division weight limit of 230 pounds, Flesher was quite comfortably above it. However, this IS a cruiserweight rules match nonetheless.”

 

The screen flashes to a black background with orange lettering. Across the top, it says “Cruiserweight Rules.”

 

“The first cruiserweight rule in effect tonight is: Twenty-count on the outside. Ordinarily the count-out is ten. However, cruiserweight matches have a twenty-count to allow for more dynamic action and dives to the outside.”

 

The first rule flashes across the screen, quickly followed by, “No over-the-top.”

 

“Also, throwing the opponent over the top rope will engender an immediate disqualification. These wrestlers are smaller than the heavyweights and can be lifted more easily, so to protect them from undue injury, we enforce this. And, finally…”

 

The words “Bobby Riley sucks” flash across the screen.

 

“My broadcast partner is mandated to suck for the duration of any and all cruiserweight matches. Ordinarily, I prepare for this inevitability by providing him with Jolly Ranchers or a lollipop – which he prefers, oddly enough – but I’ve unfortunately left my prep bag in the locker room tonight, so he’ll simply have to give poor commentary.”

 

“One of these days, Comet… to the moon!”

 

“I see you’re starting early, Robert. Good for you!”

 

With that, Funyon enters the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following match is scheduled for one fall, and it will be conducted under cruiserweight rules! However, in because Tom Flesher did not make weight, it is a NON-TITLE match!”

 

Immediately, the fans begin to boo. A “BULLSHIT!” chant breaks out and echoes through the arena, drowning out Funyon as he announces, “First, making his way to the ring…”

 

The lights dim, but the “BULLSHIT!” chant continues. As the SmarkTron lights up, and the guitars begin to vibrate through the arena, the crowd cheers for Flesher, showing that their allegiance hasn’t changed. They begin to roar with approval as the Philosopher Kings’ “I Am The Man” rocks out through the arena, accompanied by a burst of blue pyro. The SmarkTron breaks into the video.

 

Ego Buster!

 

SUPERIOR ONE

 

Boilermaker!

 

AWARD-WINNING

 

Ego Trip!

 

MAIN ATTRACTION

 

Logical Disconnect!

 

THE MAN

 

The fans continue screaming, cheering on the informal leader of the SWF! As the smoke clears from the entrance, the Superior One steps out from behind the curtain, prompting another huge pop from the fans. Flesher, however, doesn’t look happy. He doesn’t bother going through his usual routine of posing, smirking and waiting for pyro. He simply stalks down the aisle, a look of anger on his face, and slides into the ring.

 

“Weighing in tonight at 235 pound, the Superior One, TOM FLESHER!”

 

Flesher, without even acknowledging the crowd, strips off his warm-up as he climbs the stairs. He stays in the corner, stretching out. The look in his eyes makes it clear that he’s in no mood to pander. He simply backs up against the buckles and, as he stretches, stares a hole through the curtain.

 

“And his opponent…”

 

The screen fades to black and white as a storm seems to be brewing on the horizon...the SmarkTron shows a long horizon line on a desolate highway as sounds of heavy wind and rain bring in the first few notes of the acoustic version of "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi.

 

It’s all the same…

Only the names have changed…

 

As the lyrics begin, the storm sounds fade slowly, and Alan Clark steps out from behind the curtain, his guitar slung over his shoulder. The screen stays in the black and white monochrome state as the camera moves in to a close-up of Alan's face, a slight smile shown. The crowd applauds and cheers as the images of Alan walking the aisle interchange with the SmarkTron video, which shows highlights of his JL career.

 

“From Long Beach, California, and weighing in at 225 pounds, he is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion, ALAN CLARK!”

 

Alan walks around the ring and hands his guitar to a ringside crew member, making sure that it is in safe hands. Alan then rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring, ready for the match. He steps to the center, as does Flesher. The belt sits in Clark’s corner, as it is now not being defended tonight. Referee Anthony Michael Hall calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

Right off the bat, Flesher crouches down and nails Clark in the pelvis with a shoulder, slamming into him with a blast double leg takedown! Clark, caught completely off-guard, collapses to the mat, and Flesher stands up with both legs hooked. He arches his back and tries to step over, but Clark fights the Boston crab hold.

 

“Only a few seconds into the match and Flesher’s already in control,” says Riley. “Of course, that doesn’t say as much about Flesher as it does about Clark’s total lack of defense.”

 

“Flesher takes control immediately, and it looks like he’s trying to end it early,” Comet says. “A quick submission will certainly take the starch out of Alan Clark and provide a moral victory, but unfortunately Flesher is five pounds too heavy to win the title.”

 

Clark fights the Boston crab for a few more seconds, and Flesher responds by dropping the right leg and switching to a single-leg crab on the left side. He steps over, finally forcing Clark onto his stomach by wrenching his back. Flesher steps back, trying to lock on the hold at as high an angle as possible. Immediately, the guitar-playing superstar starts to crawl toward the sidelines, and Flesher has to step back to regain control. Before he knows what happened, Clark has the ropes, and Hall forces Flesher to break. Frustrated, Flesher slams Clark’s left leg down to the canvas and walks to the center.

 

“Fortunately for Clark,” says Comet, “he was within striking distance of the ropes. Otherwise, he might have met his fate right there.”

 

“Not if Flesher’s going to let his anger get the best of him. What little he’s accomplished, he’s done on skill, so if he tries to force and muscle things he’s going to be in trouble.”

 

“… what little he’s accomplished?”

Clark gets to his feet, and Flesher waits impatiently in the center. Alan makes his way to the center, only to eat a stiff palm strike to the face! Flesher slams him with another strike, then nails him with a knee to the stomach! Clark doubles over in pain, and Flesher grabs him around the waist! The fans go wild, anticipating the Ego Buster! As Flesher starts his lift, though, Clark scrambles and backs out, leaving Flesher with only a front headlock for his trouble. Of course, that’s not exactly bad for Flesher, who immediately jacks Clark up off the mat by his neck and leaves him hanging there for a few seconds. Anthony Michael Hall steps in to warn Flesher about the illegal choke, and Flesher responds by arching his back and flipping Clark over his head! He then floats over, executing a picture-perfect Cement Mixer! He wrenches Clark’s neck and covers him as Clark counts

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

 

NO! Clark gets a shoulder up in plenty of time and escapes the hold, even though Flesher tries to keep the front headlock on. Clark rolls to the side and gets to his feet just in time to block a Flesher low single, stepping back and stunning him with a diving forearm to the back of the head. This draws a quick pop from the crowd as Flesher flattens out for an instant, giving Clark enough time to get to his feet before Flesher reassumes his position on all fours.

 

“And here, Alan Clark shows his greatest strength – his speed,” says Comet. “Flesher isn’t known for his quickness, but he can execute his amateur takedowns like second nature. If Clark can stop them, he’s definitely in good shape.”

 

Clark bends down, grabbing Flesher around the waist and locking his hands around his torso. Quickly, he hoists Flesher off the mat and slams him down across his knee with a backbreaker! Flesher falls off Clark’s leg, and Clark cradles him for

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

NO! Flesher kicks out and gets to his knees, just in time for Clark to throw a dropkick to his face! Flesher bellies down, though, and Clark misses! He lands on the mat, and Flesher slowly gets to his feet. He has a look of total exasperation on his face.

 

“Flesher is obviously not happy with the way this match is developing,” says Comet. “He thought he was going to be able to shoot a takedown and finish the match with a quick submission, and here he’s taken a gutwrench Chartbreaker already.”

 

“Of course he did. He’s rusty as a two-year-old Ford, Comet!”

 

“We’d like to point out to our good friends at the Ford Motor Company that we mean no harm,” says Comet. “Fords don’t develop rust problems for at least three years unless driven regularly, and we’d hate to discourage anyone from buying a Ford if they choose to and have that sort of disposable income or wish to fix a car up.”

 

Clark starts to get to his feet, only to be kicked stiffly in the face by the Superior One. The fans applaud as Clark tries to stand up, only to be nailed with another stiff boot to the face! Clark flattens out, only to have Flesher stand on his head and walk over him across the mat! This draws another round of applause as Flesher then turns around and sits down firmly on Clark’s back, reaching down and grabbing him by the chin. He leans back, securing the camel clutch.

 

“And Tom Flesher secures one of his favorite submission holds, the camel clutch,” says Comet. “As usual, he’s increasing the pressure on the ribs by shuffling slightly forward and using leverage to his advantage.”

 

“If you ask me, he’s just trying to rest,” says Riley. “Flesher can’t move like he used to, and he’s trying to grab a breather whenever he gets a chance to.”

 

“Because,” deadpans Comet, “the ground-based submission style is totally foreign to Flesher.”

 

“Listen, who did they hire to do play-by-play? You’re the color man. You keep your mouth shut, understand?”

 

Flesher sits back, holding Clark’s chin tightly and trying to force him to submit. Clark’s face twists up into a mask of pain as the former World Champion lazily leans back, regaining his strength as he puts his opponent through searing pain. Eventually, though, he simply releases Clark’s chin and stands up. He brushes his shoulders off and turns around. Grabbing Clark by the hair, he pulls him to his feet and nails him with a palm strike. Clark staggers backwards, but Flesher grabs him by the hair once again and throws him to the outside, making sure to go through the ropes and not over the top. The crowd applauds as Clark starts to get to his feet on the outside, and Flesher sprints across the ring. As Clark’s head peeks up over the apron, Flesher drops to the mat and hits a baseball slide dropkick! Instead of knocking Clark back, though, Flesher hooks him in a headscissors and log-rolls to the side. As the Superior One rolls lazily on the apron, Clark gets pulled head-over-heels and thrown to the floor on the outside. Flesher pulls back and leans on the ropes, waiting for Clark to get up or stay down for good.

 

“This is, of course, an example of Flesher’s superior strategy,” says Cyclone Comet. “Ordinarily, Flesher wouldn’t dream of letting the Cruiserweight Champion lay on the outside, because you can’t win a title via countout. This is, though, a non-title match, and Flesher is so frustrated with that that he’s going to take whatever win Clark wants to give him.”

 

The referee reaches “Seven,” and Clark crawls under the bottom rope. In comfortably before even the standard ten-count, he’s still in bad shape as Flesher greets him with another sickeningly stiff kick to the face. Flesher then grabs Clark by his ragged mop of hair and lifts him to his feet before ramming his head into the nearest turnbuckle. A camera close-up reveals a red welt developing on Clark’s face from the repeated assault. Flesher, for his part, backs away to center ring.

 

“God,” says Riley. “This is almost like the Flesher of old. He’s taking charge and not allowing Clark to get any offense in. He’s just abusing the hell out of the kid!”

 

Flesher steps into a charge, sprinting toward Clark with a Yakuza kick! Clark, though, sees it coming and moves to the side, dodging the kick and springing up to sit on the top rope and plant his feet on the middle. Flesher kicks the turnbuckle pad and staggers backwards, caught off-guard by the lack of Clark. Alan regains his bearings quickly, springing off the ropes and catching Flesher in a front facelock. He swings around and slams Flesher to the mat with a tornado DDT! Flesher flattens out, stunned by the sudden move, but Clark pops back up. Keeping his rhythm, he pulls Flesher up by the wrist and whips him to the corner! He runs to the opposite corner, building up momentum, and then runs at Flesher. He executes a cartwheel, then leaps off the mat and swings at Flesher with a gamengiri! Flesher eats the kick to the head and staggers forward two steps, flopping face-first onto the mat in a heap! Clark rolls him over and covers him for

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

NO!! Flesher kicks out!

 

“The One Hit wonder nearly busted Flesher’s chart,” says Comet, “but Flesher maintains his status as number one with a bullet.”

 

“Who in the sam hill is feeding you these awful lines, Comet?”

 

Flesher sits up, only to have Clark knock him back down with a kick and then nail him with a standing legdrop! Flesher lays flat on the mat, and Clark waits half a second for him to roll over. As soon as he instinctively bellies down to avoid the pin, Clark springs off the bottom rope and moonsaults, landing on the small of Flesher’s back with a lionsault! Flesher cries out in pain, and Clark assumes a parallel ride. He hooks Flesher’s legs and leans forward, trying to hook on his deadly Mexican surfboard submission. Flesher, with what little presence of mind he has, rolls to the side to counter the surfboard. Clark reaches under to pick Flesher’s shoulder and lock up the hold, but Tom maintains his good countering position. Finally, he kicks his legs free and rolls to the side, sitting out with Clark behind him. As Clark scrambles to keep him covered, Tom stands up and grabs him by the head, then leans forward. He slams Clark to the mat with a snapmare, and follows that up with an absolutely sickening kick to the back of the head that flattens Clark out on his stomach! Flesher covers for

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

NO! Shoulder up, but distinctly without authority as Flesher plants his forearm across the bridge of Clark’s nose and grinds it down. The Superior One covers him again for

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!!!!! Once again, Clark kicks out. This time, he bellies out, and Flesher mounts him. He snakes a leg under Clark’s stomach and secures a tight body scissors grip. He reaches down, snaking both arms under Clark’s shoulders and locking on a full nelson! The crowd applauds as Flesher rolls back, pulling Clark on top and using the two grips to stretch him in two different directions.

 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Riley says. “Flesher’s got Clark locked up in so many different ways that not even Clark knows what’s going on with his body.”

 

“Indeed, Flesher is in control once again, but for how long? If Clark escapes, god help Tom, because the Cruiserweight Champion is just too fast to catch.”

 

“The solution to that is to stretch him out, keep him on the mat, break his bones and grind his joints,” Riley says. “It looks like Flesher’s got the right idea.”

 

Flesher stretches out, trying his best to pull Clark’s shoulders apart with the full nelson and crack his ribs with the body scissors. Desperately, Clark fights to roll to the side. He does, and manages to get a few inches closer to the ropes. Flesher rolls back, pulling him again into the rack-like stretching session, but once again, the Long Beach Luchadore rolls to his side! He reaches out, and this time grabs the ropes! Flesher tries to pull him off, but Anthony Michael Hall forces the break.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Flesher breaks, but he stands up and grabs Clark by the leg. He pulls anemically, but Clark reacts by pulling back and scooting away to avoid getting caught in one of Flesher’s submissions.

 

Of course, he backs right into the corner, which isn’t much better.

 

“Holy CRAP!” shouts Riley as Flesher smirks and unleashes a series of sickening kicks to Clark’s face. He kicks over and over, with Clark trying desperately to cover up. Flesher simple kicks his hands out of his face and resumes the beating until, finally, Anthony Michael Hall pulls him away! Clark sits in the corner, barely moving, as a rivulet of blood trickles out of his nose.

 

“Did you see that?” shrieks Riley like a monkey. “That was incredible!”

 

“Flesher appears to recapture the killer instinct he’s shown in the past,” says Comet, “and has been taking it to Citizen Clark throughout the match. What that says about the Superior Citizen I’m not sure, but it certainly indicates that Alan Clark is going to have trouble taking the W.”

 

Flesher reaches down and grabs Clark by the head, lifting him to his feet once again. He ducks down and locks on a head chancery, then lifts Clark into the air for a vertical suplex. He stalls for a few seconds… stalls… and stalls…

 

“Flesher, showing his tremendous power advantage…” says Comet. “He’s had him up there for fifteen, twenty seconds!”

 

“Where’d you get that stopwatch?”

 

“Chris Wilson gave it to me. It was actually part of the FAO Schwartz bomb.”

 

Finally, Flesher leans forward, unloading Alan Clark ribs-first across the top rope! Clark lands so hard that he nearly bounces off, but he comes to rest leaning on the cable. Flesher grabs him in a head chancery once again, this time simply suplexing him backwards and floating over for the cover.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR- NO!!!!!!! Clark kicks out! Flesher, frustrated, unleashes a bitch slap on Clark that sends his blood spraying everywhere! Clark looks up, his eyes ablaze, and lets loose with a knife-edge chop that catches Flesher flush in the adam’s-apple! Flesher stands up, staggering backwards, and Alan Clark gets to his feet. Still feeling the effects of Flesher’s attacks on his ribs and face, Clark chops Flesher’s chest again, prompting a WHOO! from the crowd! He chops him again (WHOO!) and once more for the road (WHOO!). Flesher stands his ground, though, and fires back with a stiff palm strike that silences Guitarzan. Flesher whips Clark to the ropes…

 

“And here comes that devastating stepping palm strike!” says Comet.

 

Clark, though, has other ideas. He ducks when Flesher extends his arm, and then quickly sprints to the ropes! He springs off the middle rope, spinning around and executing an asai bulldog that slams Flesher face-first into the mat! Flesher lands hard and bounces up, then lands hard on the mat again. Clark rolls him onto his back, then smiles and points to the roof. The fans go wild!

 

“No! Clark dodges the palm strike, and now he’s going for the Acoustic Explosion!” says Comet.

 

“Acoustic? What the hell is that? Hasn’t he ever played a good Fender or a Les Paul?”

 

“Clearly, Clark is a Yamaha man.”

 

Clark climbs to the top rope. As he does, the camera focuses in on Tom Flesher, who opens one eye for just a second to watch Clark’s progress. Clark, unaware, reaches the top and, facing the crowd, leaps off the turnbuckle! In the middle of his moonsault 450, Flesher sits up, then quickly shoulder-rolls out of the way! Clark falls to the mat and, with a splat, lands hard! Flesher sits down, looks at Clark, and wipes his forehead exaggeratedly as if to sarcastically say, “Phew!”

 

“He was ready for that!” cackles Riley. “He knew exactly what was coming, and he knew what to do to get out of it!”

 

“Sure enough, Tom Flesher avoids the Acoustic Explosion,” Comet agrees, as Flesher crawls over on top of Clark. He reaches down and, as Clark holds his ribs, snags him by the head! Bending the Cruiserweight Champion backwards, Flesher locks on a dragon sleeper, and to a decidedly mixed reaction from the crowd, gets into camel clutch position!

 

“And there’s the Superior Stretch Beta!” shouts Riley. “This is it! There’s no breaking the Beta!”

 

Flesher leans back, once again shuffling forward to increase the pressure on Clark’s ribs. The blood dribbles down across Clark’s mouth, and Flesher simply tightens the hold even more! Finally, the Cruiserweight Champion has no choice.

 

TAP!

 

TAP!

 

TAP!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

“Your winner,” announces Funyon, “The Superior One, TOM FLESHER!!!!!! However, still your Cruiserweight Champion, Alan Clark!”

 

Flesher stands up and raises both his arms. Anthony Michael Hall comes over and holds Flesher’s arm, but as soon as he does, Tom shrugs him off and walks over to Clark’s corner. Hall attends to Clark, and Flesher lifts up the Cruiserweight Championship belt. He holds it in front of his face, looking at his reflection and pausing to smooth his hair out. This draws another strong but mixed reaction from the crowd. He holds the belt up for all to see, which gets a round of unabashed cheers. From there, however, Flesher slams the belt over the top rope and to the concrete floor! The crowd boos uniformly at Flesher’s act of disrespect for the Cruiserweight belt, but Flesher simply steps out of the ring and walks to the back.

 

“And what in the name of all things holy was that?” asks a dumbfounded Comet.

 

“It’s simple, Sike. Flesher came back looking for the World Title, and Mark Stevens shuffles him in against Alan Clark. All Taamo wants is to get the World Championship one more time. What would you do?”

 

“Touché,” says Comet, though he clearly sounds leery. “After that display, we need to take a commercial break, but stay with us!”

Edited March 28, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

The cameras of SWF Storm come back on the air, and the first thing they see is a large white patch. While the viewers try to figure out if this is simply a few problem, the whiteness moves as if turning. And then the next thing the camera sees is a dark purple shirt with a picture of a green and red gem crackling with dual-coloured lights. And then the cameraman finally steps back and lifts the camera a bit higher. The Anti-Heel Machine tilts his head almost curiously, then nods to himself and motions for the cameraman to follow him.

 

Obdiently, the person behind the camera nods, and follows the seven footer. With his white trenchcoat trailing behind him and his streaked white and black hair tied back in a ponytail, Terrence Bailey walks at a casual pace through the hallways. The camera turns to look up at the big Australian, catching the relaxed set of his jaw and clear relaxedness in his posture. As he turns another corner however, his stance changes slightly, and a smile slides across his face. The cameraman turns with the behemoth, looking down the far end of the corridor.

 

Toxxic stands at a beverage table, pouring himself a glass of pure and untainted water, his titles over his shoulders. Looking up from his drink, the Straight Edger sees the white-clad behemoth striding down the hallways towards him, and hesitates for a moment. As Terrence begins to steadily pace down the corridor with the cameraman in tow, Toxxic slugs back his water like it was a shot of whiskey, and adjusts his titles over his shoulders. With a calm expression, the Straight Edger begins to turn away...

 

...and a large hand clamps down on his shoulder and turns him around. Lifting an arm to instinctively shield his face, he looks up at the towering Anti-Heel Machine - who lets go and holds out his left hand, clearly offering it for a handshake.

 

"Toxxic." Terrence's voice is soft, relaxed, yet there's an underlying thread of steel in it.

 

"Terrence... Janus... whatever you call yourself" Toxxic replies, adjusting his titles and glancing at the outstretched hand. "What do you want?"

 

"I'm just here to wish you luck, because you're going to need it."

 

"Let's see here, I beat the Freak of the Opera for this..." the Straight Edge Sensation pats the Hardcore Gamers Championship. "And SaturDace Night Fever will lose while challenging for this..." he finishes, patting the Intercontinental Television Championship.

 

Terrence simply watches calmly, apparently not insulted by the least by Toxxic's overconfidence. He continues to hold out his left hand as if waiting for the handshake. The Straight Edger makes a pointed note of looking at the Anti-heel Machine's hand again before ignoring it, looking up at the giant again. The big Australian smiles a little wider.

 

"You're confident..."

 

"Naturally."

 

"Cocky..."

 

"It's called being sure of yourself."

 

"Lazy..."

 

Toxxic lifts up his hand to brush it through his hair, rolling his eyes. As he lowers it again however, he finds the giant's left hand clamping around it in a forced handshake. The Straight Edger tugs at his hand, then looks up with an annoyed expression. The suddenly stony look on Terrence's face is almost disturbing as he leans down, clapping his right hand down on the shoulder holding the Intercontinental Television title and staring Toxxic in the eyes.

 

"DEAD." the Anti-Heel Machine grinds out, voice dropping into a simmering growl.

 

Toxxic yanks his hand free from the big man's crushing grip, rubbing it for a moment and glowering up at the ominously calm face of the giant.

 

"Get lost, nutjob...nothing scares me..."

 

"Aecas." the seven footer responds, looking over Toxxic's shoulder. Instinctively, the Straight Edge Sensation looks over his shoulder, but there is no Black Angel in sight. Turning back, he fully expects the Anti-Heel Machine to have vanished too, but Terrence crosses his arms over his chest with a smile on his face. Toxxic raises his eyebrows.

 

"What, you're not just going to disappear like your creepy tag partner did?"

 

"I thought I'd use my locker room door..." the seven footer replies with a chuckle, brushing past Toxxic and pushing open the nearby door. It swings closed, leaving the cameraman and the Straight Edger to stare at the Unholy Trinity nametag on the door. Finally, Toxxic just shrugs his shoulders.

 

"Great, the entire stable's filled with whackjobs..."

 

As he exits the area with another glance over his shoulder, the cameraman follows after him and we fade to black...

[the.weej 0]

SWF Storm is back on the air in three.

 

Two.

 

One.

 

"RRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

 

The fans roar their appreciation as SWF Storm comes back on the air! Drowning out the sound of the generic rock music, the cheering and seething crowd of fans pack the Key Arena from ringside to rafters!. But the cameras pan away from all this, rolling down towards the announce table. And here sit everyone's favourite pair of announcers - one in spandex, one being subtly gay.

 

"Weeeelcome back, fans and citizens! I'm CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET! And right here with me is..."

 

"Bobby Riley!" the ambiguously gay one replies, perking up.

 

"We've just come off an interesting cruiserweight match between Citizen Clark and the Superior One himself, Citizen Flesher! And next up, we have some tag team action for you!"

 

"You know what's going to be fun about this, Comet?"

 

"The fact these four men will put on a good match?"

 

"Nah, the fact that two of them are complete and utter psychopaths."

 

"Give it a REST, Bobbo." Comet sighs melodramatically, rolling his eyes as the camera pans to the nattily attired Funyon standing in the middle of the ring, the sounds of Andrew W.K.'s "Ready To Die" beginning to warm up over the speakers.

 

"The following contest is under tag team rules, scheduled for one fall, and the winning team gets a shot at the S!W!F! Tag Team Championship! Introducing first, from Easton Pennsylvania and Harrison Illinois! They stand at six-foot-one and six-foot-four, and weigh in at a combined four-hundred and thirty two pounds!"

 

By the time Funyon finishes speaking, the ten seconds of melody that proceed the beginning of the song have run their course. The stage explodes with three loud and showering bursts of white pyrotechnics, as two figures come stepping through the cloud of sparkling light. Still semi-obscured on the ramp and nods to his partner, who steps out and throws his arms into the air, prompting multi-coloured pyrotechnics to blaze into the crowd as "Ready to Die" fades into "The Gauntlet".

 

"Well I had just got back

From a break from the fight,

I was weighing in heavy

But still feeling alright..."

 

"....they are the Insaaaaaaane Luchaaadoorrrr....and the Speeeeectaaaaaacular One.... MIKE! VAN! SICLEEEEEEEEEN!"

 

The crowd cheers for the dynamic looking duo, who stride down the ramp side by side. They occasionally glance at each other, but roll under the bottom rope and pop to their feet as the sound of "The Gauntlet" fades out. The Spectacle and the Luchador confer with referee Matthew Kivell for a moment before retiring to the two far corners of the ring, turning their eyes towards the ramp.

 

"While Citizens Siclen and Rickmen definitely have some...odd history, they do make a rather good tag team, Robert."

 

"I suppose, Comet. But are they better than whoever they're facing?"

 

"Do you ever READ the card, my friend?" Comet eyes his companion.

 

"Never." Riley replies primly.

 

At that precise moment the lights drop out, and smoke begins to billow from the entranceway. Red lasers begin to trace lines through the billowing grayness, forming a net-like mesh of light. On the Smarktron, a pair of heads hang, almost lost in darkness. And then a lightning strike illuminates their faces - the sadistically grinning Black Angel and the stoically calm Anti-Heel Machine! This is immediately followed by a loud burst of pyrotechnics exploding into the air and the roar of Machine Head's "Davidian"!

 

"LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!"

 

"And their opponents!" Funyon bellows. "At seven feet and seven-foot-two, hailing from Shrewsbury England and Sydney Australia, respectively! They weigh in at a combined six hundred and seventy FIVE pounds, and represent the Unholy Trinity!"

 

A pair of figures walk through the strobing red light, shrouded by the smoke. One carries a long object over his shoulder, and the other wears a white trenchcoat. The smoke clears enough just in time for Aecas to lift his flick scythe into the air and extend the blade, prompting the crowd to cheer! Terrence simply thrusts his arms into the air with a grim smile of sorts on his face.

 

"They are the Black Angel, Aecas, and the Anti-Heel Machine, TERRRRRRENCE 'JAAAAANUS' BAIIIIIIIILEY!"

 

"...Oh god. Not these lunatics." Riley groans.

 

"This is the first time Citizens Aecas and Bailey will have teamed together since Citizen Aecas' induction into the Unholy Trinity, Robert."

 

"Good, I hope they turn on each other. Damn nutjobs..."

 

Riley suddenly feels very self-conscious as Aecas lays his flick scythe on the timekeeper's table, next to Terrence's white trenchcoat. The two big men stare pointedly at the announce table, then look at each other with a slight smile. The Anti-Heel Machine shakes his head and motions to the ring, and after a moment Aecas nods and the two climb onto the apron and step over the top. Kivell calls everyone in to the center of the ring to explain the rules. The Spectacle and the Australian exchange a steady near-glare for some moments, while Aecas simply looks at the Insane Luchador with a face of stone. Finally, the Black Angel retreats to the apron, and after a moment of discussion, the Spectacular One does too.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

"And it's Citizens Bailey and Rickmen starting off this match, my dear compatriot!"

 

"Wait, scratch that. There's THREE nutjobs in there, I forgot about Rickmen's craziness..." Riley contemplates.

 

"Give it a REST, Robert." Comet groans.

 

Terrence and Rickmen circle each other slowly. The Luchador looks up at his seven foot foe, who simply watches back impassively, with a slight smile. And with a shrug, IL leaps forward and begins throwing right hooks into his opponent's chest and head. The crowd pops for this, as the plucky Luchador continues throwing the rights even as the Anti-Heel Machine flings his own fist forward! The face-damaging Knuckle Bomb almost knocks Rickmen off his feet, but the Insane Luchador recovers and snaps a Superkick up into his opponent's jaw. Terrence reels back only slightly from the blow, so IL hits the ropes and comes back with a clothesline that has all the power he can muster behind it.

 

THAT move sends Terrence stumbling back with the added momentum, and the Anti-Heel Machine shakes his head and rubs his chest. He steps forward again and swings his leg up for a big boot, but the Insane Luchador goes low, taking out his opponent's other leg with a drop toe hold! Springing up, IL begins to drop elbow after elbow into the back of the Anti-Heel Machine's skull. The seven footer begins to press himself up, but the Luchador hits the ropes and comes back with a beautiful springboard Moonsault across the bigger man's back, flattening him to the ground.

 

"Innovative offense by Citizen Rickmen!" Comet exults.

 

"He better keep on top of things or that big guy will squish him." Riley mutters, trying to look excited.

 

After dropping what may very well be a tenth elbow on the Australian's skull, Rickmen heads towards his corner. Mike yells something and the Luchador listens intently, before nodding his head. Grabbing one giant arm, he drags Terrence towards his corner. The stunned giant begins to climb to his feet, but a quick jumping DDT from Rickmen drops him flat before he tags his partner. The Spectacular One instantly scales the turnbuckle, and flings himself off the top, dropping a huge leg across the head of the Anti-Heel Machine!

 

"Van Siclen Guillotine! Citizens Siclen and Rickmen seem to have this match completely in their control right now!"

 

"Hopefully it'll stay that way, those two nutjobs can lose, and we'll never see them stink up the ring in a title match."

 

"You really don't like them, do you Robert?"

 

Before Riley can answer, Mike attempts to make a pinfall on the seven foot two monster!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...KICKOUT!

 

Showing he's still in this match even at this early point, Terrence kicks out, but the hammering blows to his head have clearly caused him a bit of coherency problems. As he clutches his skull, Mike looks down and shrugs, before scrambling up the turnbuckle again. Looking out at the crowd, Van Siclen lifts his arms for praise and leaps backwards in a Moonsault, soaring down...down...down...

 

...AND TERRENCE CATCHES HIM WITH A BENCH PRESS, HOLDING MIKE ABOVE HIS BODY! As the crowd cheers madly for this, the Anti-Heel Machine sits up with a grimace, holding Mike across his chest. The Insane Luchador throws a punch or two from the apron, but they don't faze the big man as he steps away from the corner and slams Mike's side down onto his knee. He takes another step and drops down to hit a second rib-breaker. A third step, a third rib-breaker. Terrence then stands up, turning around slowly before flipping Mike over and dropping down once more! The Powerslam turns into a backbreaker as once more the Spectacular One's body comes into contact with the Anti-Heel Machine's knee!

 

"A triple rib-breaker, and it seems Citizen Siclen's advantage just decided to Crash and Burn after that, Robert!"

 

"That looked like it bloody well HURT, Comet!"

 

"Three hundred and sixty pounds of muscle, my dear co-announcer..."

 

Looking down at the groaning Siclen, Terrence shrugs his shoulders and reaches down for an arm. Dragging the Spectacle across the ring to the Unholy Trinity corner, the Anti-Heel Machine spares a glance over his shoulder...and spins around! The rolling lariat catches a leaping Insane Luchador in the chest and sends him falling to the ground and rolling out of the ring. The crowd cheers nonetheless, as the seven foot two monster makes a tag to his seven foot partner! As the Black Angel steps over the top rope, Terrence lifts Van Siclen for the Black Angel to wrap a hand around his throat. The Anti-Heel Machine drops to one knee, and Aecas obliges by pulling the reeling Siclen into the air and SLAMMING him down across his fellow giant's knee!

 

"And the Unholy Trinity score with a Spinebreaker, Robert! I think they may figuratively destroy Citizen Siclen's back!" Comet calls.

 

"Figuratively? They'll break his back if they keep that up!" Riley boggles at the sheer power.

 

Terrence falls flat and rolls out of the ring, as Matthew Kivell watches Aecas loom over Mike. He scurries to make sure the Insane Luchador and the Anti-Heel Machine are back in their corners, before turning his attention back to the match at hand. Lifting Van Siclen off the mat, the Black Angel whips him into the opposite ropes, crouching for a Spinebuster. This causes him to miss the blind tag made by the Insane Luchador, so as Aecas brutally SLAMS Siclen down with said Spinebuster, IL comes flying across the ring to leap up and swing around, slamming the Black Angel into the mat with a tornado DDT.

 

As Kivell helps Siclen from the ring however, Aecas simply sits up and stares at Rickmen, who shows no hesitation in slamming a dropkick into the Black Angel's jaw. But Aecas simply sits up again and begins climbing to his feet, prompting the Luchador to dart to the ropes and hit the apron. As the Black Angel reaches his vertical base and steps towards the ropes, IL leaps onto the ropes and springboards off, locking his legs around the advancing seven footer's neck. But Aecas is smart enough to know a Hurricanrana attempt when he sees it, and he promptly SLAMS his opponent down with a brutal Powerbomb! But it doesn't finish there, as he drags the Insane Luchador back up and down with a SECOND hard Powerbomb, holding it for a pinfall attempt!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....KICKOUT!!

 

"Showing both Citizen Aecas' sheer power and Citizen Rickmen's will to survive, by kicking out of that hard looking double Powerbomb."

 

"What the hell is Grand Scam thinking? The way these two are going, they'll destroy the Luchador and Siclen without a thought! They're MANIACS!"

 

"Nonsense, they aren't psychotic at..."

 

Comet trails off as Aecas simply grins sadistically at the fans, who cheer in response. As Rickmen drags himself off the canvas, the Black Angel scoops him up high in gorilla press position! As the crowd begin to chant for the Mother F'n Bomb, it seems someone else has other ideas. Mike Van Siclen slides into the ring again, and Terrence makes to go in after him. Kivell moves to block the big man, so he doesn't see the Spectacle come up behind Aecas and kick the Black Angel hard in the genitals from behind! This stuns Aecas long enough for the Insane Luchador to swing out of the gorilla press position and fall back, hooking the big man's head for a massive inverted DDT! The ring positively shakes when the Black Angel meets the canvas, so great is the impact!

 

The Luchador takes advantage of his opponent's grounded position as Siclen sidles back to the apron, holding his back. Mounting Aecas, Rickmen begins hammering lefts and rights into his face in true brawling style. The Black Angel merely grunts and weathers the blows, head turning with the motion of the punches. The crowd begins chanting and counting the blows, until finally IL relents and stands up. Shaking his head, Aecas tries to gather his senses, but a stiff punt to the temple by his opponent stuns him yet again. He drags the Black Angel upright and with a massive amount of effort, Irish whips him into his team's corner! Running in in preparation for a monkey flip, the Luchador's jaw drops...

 

...BECAUSE AECAS EXPLODES OUT OF THE TURNBUCKLES WITH A YAKUZA KICK!

 

"YAAAAAAAAAAAKUUUUUUZZZZZZZAAAAAA KIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!" shills Comet, like his lungs were about to explode!

 

The massive boot sends the Insane Luchador spinning 360 degrees and to the mat, as Aecas drops to his knees to gather his own senses. Terrence impatiently holds out a hand, calling to his stablemate and companion, and with a slow nod, the Black Angel begins to rise. But Mike Van Siclen leans over the ropes, and under Kivell's watchful eye, manages to touch the body of the twitching Insane Luchador! Instantly ducking through the ropes, the Spectacular One makes a beeline for the Black Angel's turned back. Swinging his leg out like a soccer pro, he kicks the back of Aecas' knee out! For his dastardly back-attacking tactics, this gains the Spectacle a round of boos, but he ignores them as he locks on an Inverted Facelock on the staggered seven footer and plays Russian Roulette! Aecas collides with the mat once more, and Van Siclen is quick to make another cover attempt!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO...KICKOUT!!

 

"Citizens Siclen and Rickmen have just not done enough DAMAGE to their opponents to put them down for any length of time, Robert."

 

"They better do something and do it fast, because Terrence isn't looking too happy and I bet Aecas is pretty pissed too." Riley comments.

 

"I'd agree on both counts, my ambiguously gay friend..."

 

Aecas is slow to get up this time, the multiple blows to the head beginning to have some effect on the giant. Van Siclen, on the other hand, is already back up to his feet and on the move. Running across the ring and rebounding off the ropes, he gains speed as he hurtles towards the Black Angel. Van Siclen's timing is perfect and he catches Aecas just as he raises his head, sweeping the big man off of his feet and cracking his head back down into the canvas with a running spinning neckbreaker. Mike keeps the momentum going, springing back up to his feet as Aecas doggedly begins to rise once again. The Spectacle backs away into the nearest corner before turning and leaping up to the second rope, twisting his body around and smashing Aecas from his feet one more time with a stinging springboard dropkick.

 

"Citizen Siclen is doing a good job of keeping Citizen Aecas off his feet, Robert. But he still needs to pull out something big to make him stay down!"

 

Seeing Aecas still stirring, an exasperated Van Siclen moves over to his corner and slaps palms with the outstretched hand of the Luchador. Kivell confirms the tag, and IL immediately begins to ascend the turnbuckles as the Black Angel stubbornly gets back up to his feet.

 

"Looks like Van Siclen is getting frustrated with Aecas' stubbornness, Comet."

 

"Perhaps Citizen Rickmen can do better, Robert!"

 

"Perhaps Citizen Rickmen can, Comet." Riley remarks snidely, idly mimicking Comet's voice. IL stands poised on the top rope, watching the rising Black Angel as intently as a hawk watches its prey.

 

As Aecas regains his footing once more, IL leaps from the top rope his body arcing through the air with a flying crossbody that would do Ricky Steamboat proud! He slams chest first into his giant opponent, the impact knocking the Black Angel back down to the canvas. The Luchador doesn't have things all his own way however, as Aecas uses the added momentum of the impact to roll through with the crossbody! This results in the giant switching positions with his opponent and pinning IL's shoulders down!

 

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO

...

....

.....KICKOUT!!

 

The Insane Luchador's left shoulder shoots off of the canvas, a second before Kivell's hand hits the canvas for three. The fans let out a mixture of cheers and boos at the near fall, as both men quickly scramble back up to their feet. IL smashes a hard punch into the Black Angel's face, jerking Aecas' head to one side before the giant responds in turn. The power of his blow spins the Luchador around in a half circle, and Aecas wastes no time in pressing this momentary advantage. The giant steps forwards and bends down, shoving his head between the Luchador's legs and quickly standing back up. The Insane One finds himself now seated upon the Black Angel's shoulders as the crowd erupt once again!

 

"Citizen Aecas is trying to end it all with the Assault Driver!"

 

Aecas is indeed trying to finish off his opponent, but the Luchador has other ideas as his legs wrap around the Black Angel's neck like a vice. The Insane Luchador flings himself backwards, his bodyweight dragging the giant's head back! Toppling the big man like a falling tree, IL spikes the Black Angel right on the back of his head with a huge reverse hurricanrana!

 

"Aecas can try all he wants, Comet, but Rickmen is just too fast for him!"

 

The fans explode once again as Aecas' head hits the canvas once more, the Insane Luchador quickly crawling from underneath the massive legs of the Black Angel to cover his giant opponent.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....

THREEEEEEEEEEEKICKOUT!!

 

"And Citizen Aecas will not stay down! But surely he can't take much more of this punishment, Robert!"

 

"For once you and I agree, Comet! Aecas has been dropped on that thick skull of his one too many times! Hopefully he'll get pinned before he can tag in his fellow nutjob!"

 

IL is once again quick to get back up to his feet, moving quickly to the nearest corner. Using the ropes to spring himself gracefully to the top, he crouches once again, watching Aecas intently. Terrence is also watching his partner, and the seven-foot-two Anti-Heel Machine shouts encouragement to Aecas as he notices the Luchador on the top rope. IL waits patiently as Aecas gets up, before he launches himself into the air once again, hands outstretched. As he goes for his patented suicidal bulldog, but just as the Luchador's hands are about to hit the back of Aecas' head, Terrence shouts a warning! The Black Angel ducks, leaving Rickmen to fly overhead and hit the canvas tailbone first!

 

The Luchador staggers back up to his feet, one hand clutching at the base of his spine from the hellish impact it just suffered. Van Siclen's own warning comes a split second too late, as Aecas steps up beside his opponent. He tosses Rickmen's left arm over his shoulders, and wraps his arms around the Luchador's waist. The Black Angel hoists the Luchador up into the air, arching his back and crunching the Luchador's head into the canvas with a thunderous backdrop driver that brings the sold out crowd to its feet!

 

"Backdrop driver on Citizen Rickmen! This could be the break that Citizen Aecas so desperately needs!"

 

"Could be!? He nearly broke the Luchador's neck with that, Comet! It's a lunatic staple to work on the head!"

 

Sitting back up after nailing that deadly looking backdrop driver, the Black Angel clutches his head and looks down at the convulsing Luchador. Instinct calls him to rest however, and so Aecas lumbers back to his feet while Kivell checks on the downed Rickmen. As he turns towards his corner however, he raises his eyebrows to see Terrence stepping over the top rope. The Anti-Heel Machine leans on the ropes and bounces across the ring, and Aecas steps aside to watch a three hundred and sixty pound mass just GORE a sneaking Mike Van Siclen all the way to hell! The Spectacular One goes rolling across the mat, holding his ribs and clearly in pain.

 

The sound of impact makes Matthew Kivell look up from the Luchador, and he leaps to his feet instantly. Despite his fear of the men who are definitely larger than himself, he orders Terrence back to his corner as the Black Angel looks on. The Anti-Heel Machine lifts his hands as if to play innocent, points accusingly at the corner where the Spectacle hunches holding his ribs, and moves back towards his own corner. Aecas glances between the barely stirring Rickmen and towards his partner as he stands on the apron, and jerks a casual thumb over his shoulder. Terrence just holds out a hand calmly, and with a loud *SLAP* the two tag!

 

"And in comes Citizen Bailey yet again, Robert! He's fresh and could possibly eliminate Citizen Rickmen with one well placed move!"

 

"Goddamit! Didn't you see what he did to Duran? He'll kill the Luchador too!"

 

Head ringing, the Insane Luchador clings to the ropes as if they were a lifeline, using them to find his way back to his feet. He's unaware of the seven-foot-two monster coming up behind him, but when a pair of arms wrap under his own and lock into position, he knows he's in trouble! And then the American-born Insane Luchador takes a trip to the Sydney Harbour Bridge, landing square on top of his head as the Anti-Heel Machine bridges for the pinfall!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....NOT A THREE!

 

But that's because Kivell stopped counting! Releasing the bridge, Terrence sits up to see Kivell arguing with an aching Mike Van Siclen. The Spectacular One yells at the referee, and points to his ribs, then at the Anti-Heel Machine, claiming he was cheap shotted. Rolling his eyes, Matthew Kivell turns his head to confer with the rising Australian, and thus completely misses the sight of Aecas grabbing the Spectacle from behind! Arching back, the Black Angel lets loose with a mighty german suplex that sends Siclen flying clear over the top rope and all the way to the floor! The crowd lets out a roar of appreciation at the move, and begins chanting!

 

"TRIN-I-TY!"

"TRIN-I-TY!"

"TRIN-I-TY!"

 

Aecas drops and rolls out of the ring as Kivell turns around, just in time to see the Black Angel retreating to his corner. Grabbing the Luchador's arm, Terrence drags the nearly limp form of Alan Rickmen into the Trinity corner once again, before slapping hands with Aecas! He sits the Insane One on the Black Angel's shoulders and takes a step back before firing a stiff uppercut Knuckle Bomb into Rickmen's chin! Aecas feels the Luchador falling back, and swings him forward again, throwing him out for the Assault Driver! But as he does so, one of Terrence's arms wrap around IL's head, slamming it down hard with an implant DDT!

 

"Everdream!" Comet calls!

 

"Assault Driver!" Riley yells!

 

They both look at each other.

 

"EVERDREAM DRIVER!" they call in unison.

 

The crowd blows the roof off at the stunning double team move, as Terrence falls flat on his back and rolls out of the ring. Sitting on the mat, the Black Angel has a grin on his face a mile wide as he rolls over the limp form of the Insane Luchador. On the outside, Mike Van Siclen is clawing his way back to his feet, as Matthew Kivell finally drops down to administer the count!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....

THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

"Here are your winners! And NUMBER ONE CONTENDERS TO THE TAG TEAM TITLES! The Anti-Heel Machine Terrence 'Janus' Bailey, and the Black Angel Aecas.... the UNHOOOOOOOLY TRIIIIIIIIIIINIIIIIIIIITY!"

 

"LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!"

 

The sound of Machine Head's 'Davidian' roars out of the speakers, nearly drowning out both Funyon's announcement and the sound of the roaring fans. Matthew Kivell is on the outside and checking on the stumbling Van Siclen, who appears to be in much pain - but that's probably because he recognises the music ripping through the speakers.

 

"And the Unholy Trinity members pull off the match with some hellishly devastating moves, Robert!"

 

"This was rigged, dammit! Mike and Rickmen never had a chance!"

 

On the floor, Terrence wraps his white trenchcoat around his shoulders and Aecas grabs his scythe, and the duo walk around the ring with almost matching grim smiles on their faces. Terrence's is a bit lighter than his companion's however, and as they reach the bottom of the ramp, they stop to look around at the fans.

 

"TRIN-I-TY!"

"TRIN-I-TY!"

"TRIN-I-TY!"

 

"Well, citizens and fans, that match was definitely one very gruelling endeavour! But the night's barely started here in the Key Arena, and don't go away! We have more madness including Citizens West, Onita and Duran all going at each other!"

 

"And then we have my new favourite boy Toxxic in the main event, where he's going to teach SaturDaceNight Fever a lesson." Riley grins.

 

"It's bad enough you picked that up from him, Robert. The Trinity are 1 and 0 here so far tonight, let's see how well the rest of the night turns out for them, shall we?"

 

The camera fades out on this vision of a cheerful Cyclone Comet and a sulking Bobby Riley, right into the usual SWF commercials.

[the.weej 0]

We return to ringside, ahead of time for our next match of the evening. We've just seen a tag team war between Janus/Aecas and IL/MVS, but now it's time for...

 

 

...the lights to go out?

 

"What in the..." Comet begins, but soon gets cut off by Funyon.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LAAAAANDOOON MAAAAADDIIIIIX!!!"

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

 

Slowly a soft white light begins to bathe the stage, where the Todd's Angels have assembled in their organised formation, stood to attention. Over the ring in the meanwhile, a large symbol shaped like an 'L' and an 'M' begins to lower from the ceiling until it is hovering just above the ring...and all around the two letter, sparklers begins to fizz away illuminating the symbol. Still fiery jeers fill the Key Arena, but they are soon drowned out as the Todd's Angels are propelled into song...

 

 

"WHATTA MAN, WHATTA MAN, WHATTA MAN, WHATTA TODDLY GOOD MAN...

...what a toddly, toddly good man...

 

WHATTA MAN, WHATTA MAN, WHATTA MAN, WHATTA TODDLY GOOD MAN...

...what a toddly, toddly good man..."

 

 

As The Angels blast out their unconvential 'hymn', Landon Maddix bounds out onto the stage with a noticeable spring in his step as he stops and looks around at The Angels. Ignoring the jeers which are gradually getting louder to compete with the singing Angels, Maddix throws him arms up in the air...

 

...causing white PYRO to shoot up in front of each section of Todd's Angels!

 

"This is the greatest entrance...EVER!" Riley ecstatically states.

 

 

"WHATTA MAN, WHATTA MAN, WHATTA MAN, WHATTA TODDLY GOOD MAN...

...what a toddly, toddly good man..."

 

Adjusting the guitar still over his shoulder, Landon turns back towards the entrance way as Megan Skye bounds out...and together Disciple and Toddess walk down the aisle, whilst Todd's Angels' rendition of "Whatta Man" continues...with the same line...over and over again.

 

"Now, is this entertainment...or WHAT!?!" Riley again beams.

 

"It's...certainly...something..." Comet replies in a state of confused amazement.

 

"Isn't it just!"

 

"Well, I'll admit...I'm intrigued. I want to see what Citizen Maddix has got up his sleeve tonight...or, perhaps, what he hasn't. For all we know, he could be as bad of a singer as you are Riley."

 

"Hey, I'm a great singer."

 

"Yeah...I heard about your time in that Village People tribute band."

 

"I'm not even going dignify that with an answer...except to say they paid me well."

 

Eventually Landon makes it into the ring, where the fizzing symbol is raised away towards the rafters again. A single stool has been placed in the centre of the ring ready for him, with a stand for his music and couple of water bottles sitting in front. Eventually the lights begin to return to normal...not before dimming back down again, leaving a single white spotlight shining down on the ring. A big grin still plastered on his face, Maddix sits down on the stool as Megan is forced to take a place against the ring ropes. Quickly one of the ring crew enters the ring, and clips on a mic to Landon's collar...which Landon quickly makes use of.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...TODD'S ANGELS!!!"

 

Maddix's booming attempt at some applause fails miserably, as the heavenly group is almost jeered out of the building. Disgusted, Maddix and Megan exchange a look of surprise at the crowd's dis-respect, until the boos die down.

 

"Thank you for your irrelevant opinion. Now, before I start this extravaganva...may I remind you all that members of security are situated around the arena to remove any dis-respectful...'hecklers'."

 

Again the crowd respond with boos, Landon seemingly unable to believe the reaction.

 

"AHEM!" Landon interrupts, clearing his throat. "Without further ado...welcome one and all to Landon...LIVE! The most entertainment you could have on a Saturday night without Britney Spears hanging from your crotch!"

 

"OOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

"Ha ha...I knew that'd get a reaction out of you perveted heathens. Megan...take no notice. They know no better. Now...before we get into the musical portion of this entertainment spectacular...I want to address something that happened earlier on. Backstage...some of you may have seen me hurry away from an interview...and then see Alan Clark standing down the hallway, glaring at me. Now...now, I want to clear this up...incase anyone mis-understands me. I was not running from Honky Tonk Clark. It may have seemed that way, but that is not the case. Purely coincidental. He just happened to turn up as I heard Todd calling my name..."

 

The crowd begin to start a "Bullshit" chant, as Maddix angrily waves his hands, motioning for them to stop.

 

"Well, I tend to agree..." Comet interjects.

 

 

"Think what you want." snaps Maddix. "But if what you think is that I am...somehow...afraid of Alan Clark, then you are clearly all mistaken. If I were the slightest bit afraid of Alan Clark, why would I have come out here a few weeks ago and destroyed him in the middle of the ring? You remember that...Megan, I know you remember that...when the lights suddenly turned off. And I grabbed that steel chair..."

 

Suddenly, Landon smiles, and strums away on his guitar...before breaking into song.

 

"I shook his bones and I rattled his brains.

It's just too bad that he's already insane.

I kicked his ass...

I'm different class.

 

Todd is gracious, I'm not bad either...

 

Now the local busker's got no guitar.

But that don't matter...he was never a star.

I stopped his dance...

He stood no chance.

 

'Cause Todd is gracious, I'm not bad either!"

 

"LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!"

 

The Disciple is cut off by the un-flattering chants from the crowd, a loud sigh coming over his microphone as he impatiently looks around the crowd. As the chants show no signs of dieing down, Landon looks to Megan and shakes his head.

 

"Can I..."

 

"LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!"

 

Again the chants continue to rain down, as Maddix looks on the verge of snapping...

 

 

"I WANT TO BE A PART OF IT...

 

NEW YORK, NEEEWWW YOOORRRK!!!"

 

Finally Landon bursts out, recieving a new burst of chants...this time a rousing rendition of "YANKEES SUCK!"

 

"Yeah...I thought that'd shut you ungrateful Big Apple wannabees. Get a clue people. I don't suck...you suck. Seattle sucks. The Sonics suck. You wouldn't know entertainment if Marvin Gaye himself walked up and slapped each and every single one of you with it! And you have the nerve to say I suck? You know...apart from North Dakota, I couldn't think of a worse place to host this entertainment Maddixvaganza in the world. You people don't know entertainment. Face it...Las Vegas, New York, Orlando...even Saint freaking Louis...all more entertaining than this hell-hole. You know...if I could be anywhere in the world right now, it wou..."

 

Maddix's tirade continues, until suddenly the house lights begin to very slowly dim...the crowd's jeering now replaced by a sense of excitement. The breathing being picked up from Landon's microphone is now blatantly much heavier, as now the arena is pitch-black. A good few seconds pass, as the breathing from Maddix's mic soon calms itself down, and is replaced by a light chuckling.

 

"Al...alright Megan. Veeerrry funny. Oooh...I'm so scared. Boooogedy boooogedy...ha ha. Ok, you can...turn the lights back on now."

 

Megan's nervous voice can suddenly be heard screaming "It's not me"...

 

"Oh come on...the joke's wearing thin now Megs."

 

Once again Megan protests her innocence, as the breathing is becoming heavier again...

 

"Ree...really?"

 

Slowly the lights begin to return from darkness, and eventually back to normal. Once light fills the arena again, we see Maddix now stood up from his stool and nervously looking around, but there's no sign of anyone. Sure of his safety, Landon breathes a sigh of relief and smiles nervously.

 

"I...I guess it was just Todd messing about...yeah...that's it..."

 

Suddenly, "Wanted Dead Or Alive" hits, and the crowd erupts as Landon's eyes snap open in shock...glaring down the aisleway, as suddenly Alan Clark steps through the curtains to another eruption from the crowd!

 

 

"Oh...business my homo-erotic friend has certainly picked up!" beams Comet.

 

"No...this isn't good." Riley mumbles in shock. "He shouldn't be out here! This is a Maddixvaganza!"

 

Still in his wrestling gear from his battle with Tom Flesher earlier in the night and wearing a fiery look in his eyes, Clark begins to stride down the aisle as Maddix takes off the guitar from his shoudler and wields it as a weapon.

 

"Stay back..." Landon nervously stammers. "I'm warning you Clark...I will break your legs if you come anywhere near me. I'm not afraid to use this piece of crap you bought me..."

 

Regardless, Clark continues to walk down the rampway, eyes locked on Maddix all the way. Knowing a fight is near by, Maddix quickly yanks off his mic and hurls it to the ground, motioning for Megan to get the hell out of the ring. Quickly she does so, as Clark makes it to the ring and rolls in, causing Maddix to take a few quick steps back in retreat. Still wielding the guitar, Landon motions with his free hand for Clark to 'bring it on', which Clark responds to by taking another step forward...

 

...causing Maddix to hurl the guitar at Alan's feet, and dive from the ring!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

 

Maddix grabs Megan by the hand and helps shepherd her off around the ring and back up the ramp. Glaring back up the aisle Clark may as well have steam coming out of his ears considering the mood he is clearly in, blatantly on boiling point. As Maddix and Megan continue their retreat, Clark looks down the a guitar sitting a metre or so away from his boots...before, with a growl, bending down and grabbing it by the handle. He then kicks the stool closer to him, before raising the guitar in the air...

 

...and SMASHING it down across the wooden stool, splintering it upon impact into numerous splintered pieces! Again Clark brings the guitar remains down across the stool, before grabbing that and taking his frustration out on the legs with some swift kicks...until it's no more than a large, wooden coaster.

 

"This is ridiculous!" wails Riley. "Maddix didn't even get to his rendition of 'Todd Is A DJ'!"

 

"Bobbo...I think the more important issue is that Alan Clark has snapped. And that's not good for you, me, or anyone in the first eight rows!"

 

Once the guitar and stool are left in pieces, Clark lets out a loud roar of intensity, before glaring back up at Landon who seems to have had the fear of God struck into him by the maniacal Clark.

 

"I tell you Bobbo...I wouldn't want to be Landon Maddix once that man in the ring finally gets a hold of him! The fire has been re-lit inside of Alan Clark. Look what happened to Todd Royal. Look what happened to Thugg. I see that in Landon Maddix's future!"

 

As Clark continues to glare up at the fearfully retreating Maddix, the scene slowly begins to fade into another commercial break...

[the.weej 0]

As the time approaches for Ann Onita’s triple threat match with Coy West and John Duran, she is lacing up her wrestling boots in the back. The crowd pops when they see her on the SmarkTron, and they pop even louder when Charlie Matthews, SWF Champion extraordinaire, steps onto the screen.

 

“Hey Ann,” Charlie starts, and Onita stands up off the locker room bench, dwarfed by the Grappler as Allison comes to Ann’s side. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me last show with Duran. He’s got a problem.”

 

“I can see that,” Ann responds with a chuckle, sticking the cigar in her mouth. “You know, I want to get rid of him as much as you do.” Grappler nods and she continues. “So what do you say we get together for a nice friendly match ourselves once this is all said and done? For that title?”

 

The crowd cheers at the possibility of a Annie/Grappler title match, and Matthews smiles. “Sure, you got it. But don’t lose sight, Ann. Duran is on the brink of losing his mind. I hate to say it, but I’m glad it’s you and not me stepping in the ring with him tonight. I gotta get going somewhere.” Grappler pats Annie on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

 

“Don’t need it,” Ann says confidently.

 

Grappler walks off camera and the crowd cheers as the camera zooms in on Ann. “Coming up next,” Riley hypes, “Coy, Ann, and Duran all in the same ring! It’s next, live!”

Edited March 28, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

The view inside the sold-out Key Arena gets brighter as the camera fades in from commercials. No sooner than that is done, however, that the beats of Sara Evans’ “Perfect” float out of the PA system, and the crowd begins to cheer!

 

“We’re back on Storm,” Bobby Riley welcomes us, “and I’m sorry to say that it’s now time for this two-bit to enter the ring.”

 

“The fans are getting behind Citizen West,” Cyclone Comet notes, “and you can’t argue with the fans!”

 

“Doesn’t have to be perfect…” the lady crooner sings as the Coyote slaps hands with some fans on his way down the ramp.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon begins, “this next match is a triple threat match, where the first pinfall wins! Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds and hailing from the S.S. General Lee Jr., he is THE COYOTE…COYYYYYYYYYY WEST!”

 

The cheers continue for Coy as he bounds down the ramp, his thick mullet bouncing around his shoulders as he reaches the base of the ramp and slides into the ring!

 

“Comet, I’m still not quite sure how Coy got a job. The man is slowly edging his way towards Grappler’s record for Most Boring Wrestler, and I personally just can’t stand that mullet!”

 

“The Commissioner must’ve seen something in Citizen West, because he’s here in this ring tonight on Storm!”

 

NO~

NO~

NOTORIOUS~

 

“Alright, finally we get a real competitor!” Riley says with a clap of his hands.

 

Spineshank’s “Synthetic” strikes up and the cheers quickly turn to a torrent of boos. John Duran emerges from the curtain, wearing a cutoff version of his “Sin to Win” t-shirt, standing at the top of the ramp and giving the fans a couple of middle fingers before making his way down to the ring.

 

“That disrespectful gesture from Citizen Duran has become a reflex,” Comet bites at Duran.

 

“His opponent, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds, hailing from Champaign, Illinois…he is the NOTORIOUS JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

 

The boos never cease as the fans are all but glad to reciprocate the middle fingers right back into the face of the Notorious One as he makes his way down to the ramp.

 

“Duran has been making a lot of progress in his long-term goal for respect of these fans, Comet. He’s leader of the Unnamed, he’s facing that no-talent carpet muncher Ann Onita, and he’s even stirred up a little something with Charlie Matthews, an old foe!”

 

“Citizen Duran has certainly been keeping himself busy, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see that backfire against him in the future. Especially when it comes to the revival of his rivalry with Citizen Matthews, a man who he has never beaten in a singles contest, and had a terrible losing streak against in the Smartmarks Junior Leagues!”

 

Coy has gone to the far side of the ring, so Duran hops up onto the apron and steps into the ring, staying on the near edge of the ring as he waits for the final entrant in this triple threat match.

 

With that, “Risky Gamble” plays and the crowd EXPLODES!

 

“And Ichiban is on her way!” Comet warns.

 

On the SmarkTron, Ann takes her shot and a blue pyro shoots up into the arena roof, as Ann Onita steps out from behind the curtain with Allison, cigar in hand and suit-clad.

 

“This should be an interesting match for Onita,” Riley notes, “she’s going to be in that powder blue suit against a speedy Coy West and an unruly and angry John Duran!”

 

“It certainly doesn’t help that Ichiban interrupted Duran’s unjustified attack on our champion on Smarkdown!”

 

“And their opponent, weighing in at one hundred and seventy-five pounds…from Tokyo, Japan…she is NUMBER ONE…ANN ONIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITA!”

 

The Hardcore Queen is slowly making her way to the ring as Allison is taking even more time, flirting with some lonely Seattle boys as “Risky Gamble” continues. From inside the ring, Duran glares at Onita with a piercing stare, and then turns his attention to Coy back in the ring. With a final look back towards “Number One,” Duran charges at “The Coyote,” clotheslining Coy from behind as West tries to get rid of a foosball table to a couple in the audience. Duran’s clothesline sandwiches Coy in the corner, and Duran bashes a couple of right hands into the skull of Coy before lifting him up by his torn blue jeans and tossing him out of the ring.

 

“Where did that come from?” Comet asks with a puzzled tone.

 

“I’m not sure, but I love it! Coy West is already out to begin this match, and it’s just Ann Onita and John Duran now, like it should be!”

 

The referee is more than slightly confused after that sneak attack, and he does the only thing he can think to do--call for the bell.

 

DING DING DING

 

“Ichiban hasn’t even reached the ring,” Comet complains, “how can this match already be beginning?”

 

“Perhaps if she didn’t smoke so many cigars, Ann would be able to keep up with Duran and Coy!”

 

Duran is taunting Onita in the center of the ring, beckoning the Hardcore Queen to step in the ring already. Allison looks with worry at Onita, but Ann doesn’t seem the least bit forward as she slides into the ring. Once Onita reaches her feet, Duran charges, backing her up into the ropes and nailing her with right hands.

 

“Duran certainly isn’t wasting any time going after his opponents, and I love it! It seems like this rekindled feud with Matthews has lit a fire under Duran!”

 

Duran grabs Ann’s near arm and whips her towards the opposite ropes. As Ichiban rebounds off the ropes, John comes forward and wallops Ann with a running forearm, sending the woman down to the mat. Wasting no time, the Notorious One backs up towards the ropes, bouncing off them and bounding back to Ann’s fallen body, leaping into the air and dropping a leg across the neck of the Hardcore Queen!

 

“A devastating legdrop from Citizen Duran,” Comet notes, “and Duran might be looking for a quick victory with this pinfall!”

 

The referee falls to the mat as Allison urges Ann to kick out of the lateral press by Duran.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-COY WEST leaps over and nails Duran in the back of the head to break the count!

 

The fans cheer the Coyote as he re-enters the match and goes right for the man who tossed him over the top rope.

 

“That stupid Coyote should mind his own business, Comet. This is between Ann and Duran!”

 

Duran rises to his feet after the broken pinfall attempt and glares at Coy. West motions for the Notorious One to “bring it,” and Duran charges in a blind rage, but this time the Coyote gets the better of him, hoisting Duran in the air and then dropping to one knee, hitting an inverted atomic drop right between the legs of John!

 

“Citizen West is finally able to turn the tables on the Notorious One with a well-placed inverted atomic drop!”

 

“’Well-placed’?” Riley asks with a laugh. “How is an inverted atomic drop well-placed, Comet?”

 

The question goes unanswered as the action continues. Duran is still standing from the inverted atomic drop, but just barely as he staggers around the ring attempting to let his naughty parts recover. There is no rest for the wicked--as usual--as Coy runs forward, leaping into the air as John turns around and nailing the Notorious One with a leaping lariat, sending Duran down to the mat to a roar from the crowd! Coy lands on his feet and looks at the crowd, grabbing onto the top rope and screaming with emphasis:

 

“YEE-HAW!”

 

“I just don’t understand how the fans can get behind a two-bit redneck like this, Comet.”

 

“Well, Citizen West just has a way of electrifying the crowd, I can’t explain it myself!”

 

“Must be attaching electrical leads to some testicles out there.”

 

After pumping the fans up, the Coyote turns back to Duran, grabbing him by his jet black hair and leading John back up to his feet…when Duran suddenly lashes out and scrapes his fingernails across the eyes of the redneck!

 

“Once again, another cheating tactic from Citizen Duran,” Comet mentions with a sigh, “when will the referees start cracking down on things like this?”

 

“When you stop complaining, Comet. Face it, Duran is the best because he knows when and where he can get away with anything. He’s a ring general in every sense of the word.”

 

Coy is stunned from the eye rake and Duran uses that to his advantage, wrapping his hand around the throat of the Coyote and pushing West into the corner, letting go of the chokehold before the ref gets a chance to warn him, switching straight to hard punches to the body of Coy, alternating left and right hands into the ribs and sides of Coy, absolutely pummeling him!

 

“Another rarity from Duran,” Riley exclaims, “I can’t remember the last time it was that we saw the punches to the body in the corner!”

 

The referee tries to get Duran out of the corner, but out of nowhere, Ichiban reaches her feet and helps with the removal of the Notorious One, grabbing his right shoulder and spinning him around before Ann leaps into the air and extends her legs, connecting with a Dropkiss to the mouth of John as Coy moves out of the corner and Duran takes his spot! The crowd cheers on the show of girl power in the ring as Onita rises to her feet and both Coy and she begin to fire right hands at the dazed Duran, the crowd rooting on the Coyote and the Hardcore Queen as Duran slumps down in the corner further and further with every blow from the hands of Coy and Onita!

 

“Comet, you’re always mentioning injustices in these matches with Duran, what do you call this blatant double team in a triple threat match?”

 

“Simply neutralizing a threat,” Comet defends the actions of Coy and Onita as they begin to cease the beating on Duran, “I’m sure that they’ll be fighting each other very soon, they understand the mechanics of this match.”

 

Duran is left sitting up against the bottom and middle turnbuckles, out of it for the time being as West and Ann step back from the scene they created. Coy turns to shake hands with a common friend, but Ann shocks the Coyote with a kick to the midsection, followed up with a front facelock as Ann falls back and hits Coy with a DDT!

 

“See, Robert?”

 

“I knew that jezebel Ichiban couldn’t be trusted.”

 

The girls continue to scream with their support for the lesbian as Allison also approves of what “Number One” is doing inside the ring. Coy is holding his head as if to make sure that is mullet is still intact after that big DDT from Onita. Ann doesn’t yield, though, grabbing the aforementioned mullet and bringing Coy to his feet, only to immediately put him in a front facelock, tucking the Coyote under her left arm as the near arm of Coy is draped over the shoulder of Onita. Ichiban then lifts up, bringing Coy with her as Annie leaves West hanging in the air for a moment, flashes surrounding the two as the Hardcore Queen finally falls back, slamming Coy onto his back with a textbook stalling vertical suplex!

 

“This, Robert, is another side of a wrestler that we don’t see that often,” Comet begins his analysis, “Onita usually doesn’t have the chance to wrestle men lighter than two hundred and fifty pounds, so we rarely get to see this side of a more power attack.”

 

“She’ll need the speed to get past Duran, because there’s no way she’s overpowering him.”

 

Without missing a beat, Onita rises to her feet and runs towards the close ropes, Duran trying to hoist himself up in the turnbuckle as Annie leaps onto the middle rope and does a backflip, sailing through the air and landing on Coy with an Asai moonsault! The crowd is in a frenzy as Ann keeps her body on Coy and hooks the leg, the referee swinging around to keep an eye on Coy’s shoulders as he begins the count!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

…And Duran comes out of the corner and drops a fist onto the back of Annie’s head to break the cover!

 

The crowd boos the Notorious One as he keeps the match going.

 

“Good sense on Duran’s part to leap in and break that pinfall!”

 

“I have to agree, Citizen Duran has the presence of mind to jump in and continue his injustices on these other two in the ring!”

 

Coy is still down on the mat as Duran keeps the pressure on Annie, bringing her up by her long black hair as the referee warns him not to pull on the hair. Duran brushes the warning off as if he was Jay-Z and it was dirt on his shoulder and grabs Annie by the arm, whipping her into the ropes. On the rebound, Duran bends over and catches Onita, lifting her up into the air and pressing her over his head. Duran acts as if Ann is just a simple weight, pressing her up and down like it is nothing until tossing her backwards as the Hardcore Queen lands face first into the mat, drawing more boos from the crowd.

 

“Citizen Duran is getting cocky here; he might want to watch that.”

 

“Why would he have to worry about getting cocky, he’s got a weight advantage over the other two!”

 

“The weights shouldn’t fool you, Robert; I think it’s obvious that these three are very evenly matched.”

 

Annie holds her gut after having it rudely introduced to the canvas, trying to move her body over to the ropes for assistance in reaching her feet again. But the Notorious One is right on top of her. The boos continue to rain down on the Unnamed leader as he grabs the back of the Hardcore Queen’s head and then comes forward with his right knee, smacking it into the face of Onita as the crowd groans in disgust at the image.

 

“What a knee from Duran! And you know, Comet, this reminds me of events that took place not too long ago!”

 

“I know what you’re thinking of, Robert. The Fight Before Christmas. Ichiban is no stranger to receiving knees from Duran.”

 

“She’s expecting her head to be crushed against the front of a PT Cruiser!” Riley jokes with a sick cackle.

 

Allison can barely stand to watch as Duran brings his right knee forward once again, crushing her sister’s face in as the crowd is incited with rage towards Duran, either pro-Annie or filled with members from GLAAD as Annie struggles to get to her feet.

 

“Ichiban is doing her best to counter what Duran is giving to her, but the Notorious One has certainly asserted control over this match!”

 

Onita finally reaches her feet, but Duran only catches her in a hug, backing away from the ropes. The Unnamed leader then hoists Annie’s body into the air and turns to his left, slamming “Number One” down to the mat HARD.

 

“Very nice belly-to-belly from Duran, and that could be all for Annie! She’s not a strong man like the other wrestlers; this belly-to-belly might be enough to keep her down for the three!”

 

Duran keeps Annie down on the mat, not even bothering to hook the leg as the referee slides down to the mat!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

The Hardcore Queen doesn’t need any help from Coy this time as she is able to break the pinfall herself, the crowd cheering on Annie as Duran is prevented from acquiring a victory for the time being. Frustrated, the Notorious One once again grabs the hair, blatantly breaking the rules as she is backed into the ropes by Duran. However, as John goes for the Irish whip, Ann reverses it as she strikes Duran in the neck! It’s over in a hurry, and the crowd is not quite sure what happened until they see Duran falling to the mat, holding his neck in pain!

 

“What a chop from Ichiban,” Comet remarks in surprise, “I guess those martial arts lessons have certainly paid off!”

 

“It’s a shame to see that the neck remains an Achilles heel for Duran,” Riley says with disgust. “That stupid nutjob Janus. Had to screw up everything Duran had going for him!”

 

The crowd is in a frenzy after watching Duran go down, and no sooner does the Notorious One go down than Coy gets up!

 

“Oh great, now we get to see another double team from these two idiots,” Riley complains.

 

But the Coyote doesn’t do as predicted. Instead, he turns to Ann and lashes out his right hand, slapping her across the face as Onita is taken off guard, bouncing into the ropes as Coy nails Annie again…and again…all the while screaming at the alternative lifestyle-practicing woman to a mixed reaction:

 

“YOU. WILL. RESPECT. ME.”

 

After that final word and the fourth slap from the R.V. dweller, Coy grabs Annie by her hair and spinning her around in a circle, gaining some momentum as Coy throws Ichiban over the top rope! Onita hits the ground with a thud, and Allison immediately rushes over to check on her sister.

 

“There goes Annie,” Riley squeals with glee as Coy and Duran are the only two left in the ring.

 

Since Annie has been removed from the match, Coy turns and points at Duran--still trying to recover from the accurate chop to the side of his neck--and then starts walking towards the Notorious One. Coy is still getting a mixed reaction after dumping Annie out of the ring, but any ass kicking of Duran will be appreciated.

 

“Unfortunately, the loss of Annie means we’ll have to watch this boring redneck,” Riley groans.

 

Coy hoists Duran to his feet and bends down, lifting the Notorious One in a fireman’s carry position--barely, as Coy isn’t that strong--and suddenly, the Coyote begins to spin! The crowd starts getting behind West again as Duran goes for a ride on Coy’s shoulders! After three or four revolutions, Coy finally releases the grip on Duran, sending the Notorious One to the mat as Coy himself has some problems remaining standing.

 

“The airplane spin from Citizen West is very effective!” Comet notes.

 

“The airplane spin in general is a pointless move, Comet. What’s the point of getting yourself as dizzy as your opponent? Every move should give the wrestler an advantage of their opponent. Perhaps Coy should focus more on improving his win-loss record than entertaining these fans that are as backward as he is.”

 

After that over-analysis of the airplane spin, Coy signals to the fan by pointing a finger into the sky and spinning it in circles, as the crowd rises to their feet and cheer!

 

“Robert, either Coy is signaling that he is dizzy from that airplane spin or…”

 

“…Oh, God. The spinning toe hold.” Riley sounds less than pleased.

 

Coy returns to the fallen body of Duran, grabbing his right leg and stepping around with Coy’s right leg, wrapping the leg of the Notorious One around the left leg of the Coyote. West applies pressure to John’s leg as the crowd roars with approval. Coy does a rotation with the spinning toe hold, applying more pressure as Duran struggles on the ground to release the hold, refusing to give up when the referee prompts him, however.

 

“The fans really love this spinning toe hold, Robert. And Duran might tap to it!”

 

“I wouldn’t count on it, Comet. Duran isn’t going to give up anytime soon!”

 

West makes another rotation in the move, trying to get Duran to tap and end this match, but Duran does no such thing, hanging on for dear life in the submission. Finally, Duran is able to get his left leg up, slamming it into the posterior of the Coyote’s torn blue jeans, breaking the hold to a huge round of jeers.

 

“Well, Citizen Duran certainly proved me wrong there, but if he gets stuck in that submission again, I wouldn’t count on him lasting!”

 

“That’s why Duran is just going to dominate the rest of this match. You’ll see.”

 

Onita is struggling to her feet, taking a breather now as Allison speaks words of encouragement to Ichiban on the outside. Meanwhile, Duran isn’t getting to his feet, but instead tending to his leg and neck, both of which are no doubt screaming in pain still. Coy isn’t discouraged by the spinning toe hold being broken, instead going to the top rope.

 

“Uh-oh,” Comet speaks in an ominous tone, “this could be the end of Duran if he can hit this top-rope elbow drop! It’s very accurate, and also deadly!”

 

“Come on, Duran, get up and throw this redneck around until he wants to crawl back into his white-trash RV!”

 

But Duran doesn’t show any signs of moving, and he is very vulnerable on the ground as Coy scales up to the turnbuckle, the fans rising to their feet and the cameras being whipped out to catch this leap of faith from the devout Christian.

 

“Move, Duran! Get out of the way!” Riley screams as he seems to channel Ludacris.

 

But Coy takes the leap and aims his elbow right at the heart of the Notorious One, looking to drive the stake into the heart of the blood-sucking Illinois native…

 

…and it connects! The mullet seems to gain altitude and slow West’s descent to the ground, but the elbow drop still manages to connect with gusto, much to the delight of the fans!

 

“Step-Pa II would be proud of that work from Citizen West!” Comet proclaims.

 

“Wouldn’t Step-Pa II be having sex with Sis?”

 

“…That’s terrible, Robert.”

 

Coy remains on Duran after the top-rope elbow drop, and hooks the leg, the crowd screaming along with the referee as he counts the pinfall.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

Ichiban slowly slides into the ring…

 

 

 

TWO…Annie runs towards Coy…

 

 

 

 

…and leaps down, extending her legs and catching Coy with a low Dropkiss to the mouth, breaking the pinfall in the process!

 

“OOOH!” goes the crowd.

 

“Ichiban is barely able to break the pinfall before the count of three, but it’s good to see her back in this match, Robert!”

 

Coy is frustrated that the three count was interrupted again and rises to his feet, seeing Onita there and extending his hand to slap the Hardcore Queen again, but this time Annie blocks it to a big pop from the crowd! Ann goes behind Coy, pulling him to the middle of the ring and then, with a waistlock applied, falls backwards, the crowd exploding as Coy is driven head-first into a mat with a perfectly executed German suplex! The crowd is on their feet, and the chant begins!

 

“ICH - I - BAN!”

“ICH - I - BAN!”

“ICH - I - BAN!”

 

“A very good German suplex there from Annie as she is definitely on her A game tonight. All I can hope for now is that that two-bit redneck has finally been put out of this match for good!”

 

“I wouldn’t count on it, Robert. ‘The Coyote’ is a resilient redneck.”

 

Alliteration aside, Duran is starting to get to his feet, and when he does reach his feet Ann is waiting for him. “Number One” finally gets a chance to return the favor, grabbing the back of Duran’s head and jumping in the air, bringing the right knee into Duran’s face as the crowd explodes with cheers, Duran slumping to the ground.

 

“There’s a little taste of Citizen Duran’s own medicine!”

 

“But Duran is practically trained with those knees, Comet!”

 

Duran is on the mat, however, and Annie backs away, waiting for Duran to get up and taunting him as the crowd cheers Onita, with Allison looking along, satisfied. Duran uses the ropes to help himself up, finally getting to his feet and hobbling away from the ropes as Annie comes forward, lifting her leg up for a side savate kick…

 

…but Duran ducks it! He barely is able to avoid the lightning-fast kick, and as Onita turns around to find the evading Notorious One…Duran bends down and lifts the Hardcore Queen into the air and falls forward, driving her back first into the mat with a spinebuster slam!

 

“Whoo, go Duran go,” Riley encourages from the announcing table.

 

Duran raises a hand in the air to signal the chokeslam as Onita struggles to get back to her feet after the spinebuster. The fans are trying to boo Duran out of their minds, the “ICH - I - BAN!” chant starting up again as John creepily stalks the Japanese woman.

 

“This could be all for Ichiban,” Comet speaks regretfully.

 

“And it’s about time, I must say, Coy and her have been fighting for far too long in this match against such a walking phenomenon like Duran!”

 

Onita gets to her feet and turns around, and the chokehold doesn’t miss like the savate kick from Ann did. The ref tells Duran to relinquish the choke, but Duran simply lifts Ichiban off the ground, holding her up in the air for all to see and then slam dunking her to the canvas, literally throwing her down to the mat to complete the chokeslam, as the fans seem ready to riot.

 

“That’s it,” Riley notices, “here comes the Blunt Force Trauma!”

 

Sure enough, Duran calls for it, but the crowd is excited even more when they notice Coy West getting to his feet behind Duran!

 

“…Duran, turn around!” Riley urges.

 

“Coy isn’t going to lose this match without a fight!”

 

Duran still doesn’t see The Coyote, but when he finally does turn, all he sees is the cheap wrestling boot hurdling towards his head.

 

SMACK

 

The superkick nails Duran this time, and as the Notorious One falls to the mat, Coy signals that THIS is the end, and a chant strikes up and is spread around the arena.

 

“SLING-SHOT SU-PLEX!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

“SLING-SHOT SU-PLEX!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

“SLING-SHOT SU-PLEX!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

“Robert, they’re calling for it!”

 

“Oh yes, perhaps the worst finishing move in this sport!”

 

“That’s not true! Coy West delivers the slingshot suplex with such tenacity that it can put down any man, or even any woman!”

 

Coy goes over and picks up the body of Ichiban instead of going after the Notorious One, and it’s a smart move as the Coyote will actually be able to pick up Onita. As Coy puts Ann in the front facelock, the chant continues:

 

“SLING-SHOT SU-PLEX!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

“SLING-SHOT SU-PLEX!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

“SLING-SHOT SU-PLEX!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

However, Duran is getting to his feet as Coy soaks in the crowd reaction to his finisher. Coy tries for the suplex, but Annie is able to block it by getting a leg up in between Coy’s legs. Coy tries it again, but Annie blocks it again with a leg. West tries for one last effort and hitting the Slingshot Suplex…

 

…when Duran runs over from across the ring and spears West into the ground, breaking the front facelock on Annie!

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Citizen Duran, out of nowhere! He might have just saved this match for himself!”

 

Onita is reaching her senses, however, and as Duran gets up--holding the back of his neck as the spear aggravated it--he turns right around into a boot to the midsection from the Hardcore Queen! The fans blow up with joy, as Onita places Duran in a standing headscissors!

 

“DAYBREAK! DAYBREAK!”

 

“No! Get out of it, Duran! You can do it!”

 

The crowd is buzzing with happiness as they know that this will be the end of Duran as she hooks the arms of the Notorious One…

 

…or does she? Duran keeps his arms down and is able to flip the MUCH smaller Onita over his back with a back body drop!

 

“REVERSED! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” Riley hisses.

 

As Onita falls to the mat and the crowd is once again upset by the actions of Duran, he calls for the Blunt Force Trauma again!

 

“Will Citizen Duran be able to hit it this time?” Comet wonders out loud.

 

Duran immediately picks Annie up, putting her in the inverted fireman’s carry position and stepping out cockily to the center of the ring, looking at the fans with disgust and then finally letting Annie’s legs whip around the back of him, falling to the mat…

 

…and hitting the BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!

 

“THAT’S IT! PIN HER, DURAN!”

 

Duran rolls to his right, draping an arm over Annie and knowing that it’s over as he regains his breath. The crowd suddenly begins a small chant of “Coy” hoping that the inspiration will get him to his feet and continue this match!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coy is struggling his way up…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

Here he comes…he flies with the elbow extended…

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

WHAM

 

BUT IT’S TOO LATE!

 

Spineshank’s “Synthetic” plays as the crowd boos and some spare articles of trash are thrown in the ring as the ref kneels next to Duran and raises his shoulder in victory!

 

“Here is your winner,” proclaims Funyon, “JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

 

“Synthetic” continues as a dejected Coy, having been only a millisecond too late with the elbow, rolls out of the ring, Duran slowly getting to his feet.

 

“Heck of a finish there, Comet,” Riley acclaims.

 

“And I was surprised to see that Citizen Duran didn’t cheat as much! Maybe he is as focused as we all think!”

 

“No, that’s not how it is! He doesn’t need to cheat all the time, because he’s got the talent to back himself up, Comet! You of all people should know talent, right?”

 

Comet no-sells the comment and continues as Duran reaches his feet, holding his neck and still feeling some pain in his leg from the spinning toe hold, the adrenaline having been sucked from his body. “Nevertheless, fans, we’ve got a heck of a match coming up in our main event, Toxxic and Dace Night will be squaring off for Toxxic’s newly earned Intercontinental Television Title that he won from the Insane Luchador!”

 

“And we’ve got a real douchebag coming to join us--“

 

“And Aecas will be joining us at the announcing booth to call all the action!”

 

“Is he going to slit his wrists or just listen to the Cure the entire time?”

 

“Stop that, Robert!”

[the.weej 0]

As Coy goes to the back, Duran rolls out of the ring and goes to Funyon, asking for his mic as he turns to the crowd, flicking the microphone on.

 

"Grappler, is this all you have?" he asks to the crowd, knowing that Grappler is gone for the night. "You're going to have to try a lot harder if you expect to beat me with Ann Onita, Matthews. Because if that's all you have behind your back, then you're going to be in big trouble when the heat is on you, Charlie."

 

"If I were you, I'd just quit right now and give me the belt so I can put it rightfully where it belongs--in the Unnamed."

 

Duran tosses the mic back to Funyon as the crowd boos John's quick remarks, heading to the back as Onita recovers from the match, watching the Notorious One.

 

"Well, those are certainly some interesting words from Duran," Riley notes, "but up next it's the main event for the ICTV title! Don't go anywhere!"

 

Fade to commercial.

[the.weej 0]

As we come back from commercials the Key Arena bursts into a frenzy of noise and action once more. The Seattle crowd knows what comes next - they get to see Dace Night take the ICTV belt away from Toxxic! Unholy Trinity signs and Team Horrorcore shirts are much in evidence in the first few rows of the Arena, with the Brummy Goth’s most dedicated and insane fans having fought diligently to get ringside seats in a bid to be close to their hero when he regains the second most prestigious title in the SWF. Pro-Toxxic signs are by contrast few and far between, although one foolhardy soul at the base of the entrance ramp is wearing a “Hardcore Punk” T-shirt and now looking like he wishes he wasn’t.

 

“Well SWF fans, it’s time for the MAIN EVENT!” Comet yells, causing people across the viewing demographic to reach for the volume control. “The ICTV Title is up for grabs again, as Toxxic defends against Dace Night!”

“And the seven-foot hardcore whackjob Aecas joins us on commentary,” Bobby Riley mutters. “I can’t wait.”

 

Abruptly, ‘Hero’ by Nightrage kicks in over the speakers, hammering the crowd’s eardrums with shredding guitar hermonies and thumping blast beats. The black Smarktron screen shatters into red shards as footage of Dace demolishing various opponents is shown, including the devastating Damnation In A Cell match.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms above the strains of Nightrage “and is for the SWF Intercontinental-Television Title! Introducing first, the challenger; from Birmingham, England, weighing in at 252lbs... DACE!”

 

“FUCKING!” the crowd interjects.

 

“...NIIIGGHHHT!!” Funyon finishes, looking mildly peeved at being so rudely interrupted (in every sense). A blast of white pyro goes off and out steps the High Priest of Horrocore to an ENORMOUS ovation! The Key Arena erupts as Dace throws the horns - then the volume increases exponentially as he pulls out a long metallic shape from behind his back and pulls the ignition cord!

 

*VRRRMRRRRMRRRRMRRRRM!!*

 

“Weedwhacker!” Comet yells in shock. “Dace is bringing the weedwhacker out to play!”

 

Never has a gardening implement been greeted with such joy as Dace waves the weedwhacker above his head then starts down the ramp... only for two seven-foot shapes to step out behind him! Black/white hair and plain black, clear green eyes and dead white... Equalizer and Flick Scythe!

 

“It’s the whole Trinity!” Comet gasps as Aecas and Terrence Bailey stalk down the ramp after Dace whilst the Key Arena gives the entire surrounding area cause to file a noise pollution complaint. “The Unholy Trinity is here, and they’re armed for battle!”

“Why, Comet?” Riley yells. “What business has Janus being out here? Isn’t Mark Stevens’ biased decision to make Aecas guest commentator enough? And why are they bringing weapons? This isn’t a hardcore match!”

“For effect, I suppose Robert,” Comet answers. “It’s certainly scaring me!”

 

The Trinity ascend to the ring apron and enter the squared circle, the three men saluting the crowd. Referee Anthony Michael Hall looks just as intimidated as one might expect, but persistent badgering apparently persuades Dace to lay down his weapon, and he then manages to get Terrence to leave the ring. Acknowledging the referee, Bailey takes up station at the end of the entrance ramp, Equalizer still clutched in his fist. Meanwhile Aecas steps over the ropes and descends to join Comet and Riley at the announce table. Laying his Flick Scythe down Aecas puts on a pair of announcer headphones, looking rather incongruous next to the normal announce team.

 

“So, Aecas...” Comet says nervously. “Any predictions on the upcoming match?”

“I have no doubt it will be violent,” the giant replies, turning his dead-white gaze on Comet. “And that suits me fine. Toxxic is a tricky little bastard - but I’m confidence Dace will get him.”

 

The mood in the arena abruptly changes as the crunching guitars of Lostprophets’ ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ blasts through the PA for the second time this evening. The blacked-out Smarktron flashes up the words ‘Prepare To Be Proved Wrong’ as Dace waits in the ring for the...

 

‘GO!’

 

BOOOM!!

 

...explosion of red pyro that heralds the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger!

 

“And his opponent, from Nottingham, England; weighing in at 218lbs...” Funyon falters and stops.

 

The ramp is empty. And remains empty.

 

“The Invisible Man?” Riley quips before withering under Aecas’ gaze. In the ring, Dace Night remains focused on the bare entrance ramp... and fails to see a slim figure with spiky hair hurdle the guard rail and jump up onto the apron behind him.

 

“Look out Dace!” Aecas yells, and the power of the giant’s lungs manages to carry the warning over the crowd noise to Horrorcore’s ears. Turning, Dace Night sees something flying through the air towards him a moment before Toxxic wraps his legs around Dace’s head and brings him over with a hurricanrana!

 

*DING! DING!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“HOR-ROR-CORE!”

“HOR-ROR-CORE!”

“HOR-ROR-CORE!”

 

“A disgusting and cowardly tactic by the champion!” Comet calls as Anthony Michael Hall grabs Toxxic’s title belts from where he left them on the apron. “Attacking when Dace’s back was turned!”

“That was not, it was- um... yeah... cowardly...” Riley mutters, conscious of the silently seething giant next to him.

 

Dace rolls to his feet, slightly disorientated from the surprise rana, but Toxxic doesn’t give the challenger a chance to regroup. Piling in on his larger opponent the rookie starts unloading with European uppercuts, whiplashing Dace’s head and driving him backwards. Try as Dace might he can’t find an opening in the barrage, and much to the crowd’s displeasure the High Priest of Horrorcore is backed against the turnbuckles. With his opponent momentarily trapped Toxxic jumps up into a mount position, yelling “Little poser bitch, am I?” and punctuating each word with a stinging right hand. After a few seconds Dace’s instincts kick in and the challenger shoves Toxxic off. The champion lands on his back but rolls through the movement and comes smoothly up to his feet before dashing forwards once more, catching Dace as he tries to get out of the corner. Dace fires off an elbow smash which staggers the champion but Toxxic hits back with another European uppercut to knock his opponent back onto the ropes, then lays in with a:

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

Windup...

 

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE!

 

“Merciful Zeus!” Comet yells as Dace somersaults backwards, landing hard on the protective mats in front of the announce desk. “Toxxic just discus-clotheslined Dace over the top rope! The challenger has hardly had a chance to get any offence in!”

“And he won’t anytime soon,” Riley ventures, casting a worried glance to his right. “Toxxic is really fired up here!”

 

Getting back to his feet, Dace shakes a slightly hazy head in an attempt to clear it. Hearing the crowd noise rise again Horrorcore looks back at the ring - but is unable to duck or dodge the 218lb human missile that comes tearing over the top rope at him, knocking him back and crushing him against the guard rail! Across the ring, Terrence has realised what is going on and starts to move, probably to get a better look, but a sharp command from Michael Hall stops the Anti-Heel Machine in his tracks.

 

“Another high-impact move from the champion!” Comet calls. “Aecas: Is Toxxic trying to take Dace Night out before he can hit a move?”

“Of course he’s trying to, Comet, that’s common sense!” Bobby Riley interjects. “The question you should be asking is; does he need to, or can he survive a counter-attack?”

“Toxxic is a dangerous competitor,” Aecas answers as the double champion starts to get back to his feet, winded but evidently in better shape than Dace Night. “I can assure you of that. But I think he will underestimate exactly how much Dace can take - and how much he can dish out.”

 

Grabbing his opponent by the head and ignoring Referee Hall’s shouts of protest from inside the ring, Toxxic drags the woozy Dace upright. With both hands twisted through his opponent’s hair Toxxic takes a couple of quick steps forward, then...

 

*THUNK!!*

 

...rams Dace’s head right into the steel ringpost! The Key Arena jeers in derision as Toxxic flips the classic British v-sign at Aecas, before grabbing Dace’s wrist and whipping the Brummy Goth towards the guard rail...

 

*CRASH!!*

 

...but Dace reverses, sending Toxxic’s back into an impromptu meeting with the steel instead! Hearing Hall’s count rising behind him Dace quickly rolls into the ring to break it and then returns to the outside, where Toxxic is clutching at his spine and Aecas is laughing.

 

“How did Dace reverse that after taking so many shots to the head?” Comet asks in disbelief. “Virtually his first offensive move came right after a flurry of attacks from the champion!”

“You can hit Dace in the head all day and he’ll still be fine,” Aecas comments.

“I guess the horns cushion the impacts,” Riley jokes, then cringes... but Aecas’ movement was only to scratch his cheek.

 

Grabbing the Straight-Edge Sensation by the neck Dace throws a quick MMMEEEEETTTAAAALLLL~! sign at the crowd, then bends down and hoists Toxxic over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Without any visible effort Dace straightens as the first few rows of the crowd stand up for a better view - then the High Priest of Horrocore flips Toxxic off his shoulders and sends him crashing onto the floor with a reverse DVD!

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“The crowd giving us their opinion of that move,” Comet declares, “and I have to say I agree with them! Dace Night has regained the advantage in this match in a BRUTAL way!”

“That wasn’t brutal,” Aecas disagrees. “The brutality comes later.”

 

Regardless of the Black Angel’s opinion however, Toxxic is feeling the effects of the move and the champion lies gasping on the floor. Dace goes to pick Toxxic up again...

 

“SEVEN!”

 

...but hears Michael Hall counting, and dives back into the ring to break the count again. As Terrence Bailey takes up an interested observation point beside the steel steps at the far end of the ring Dace reasserts himself on the rookie by picking Toxxic up bodily once more and then dumping him back into the ring. Toxxic rolls, trying to get away from his tormentor, but Dace is having none of it and grabs the waist of Toxxic’s trousers to stop his escape. Lifting, Dace manages to hoist Toxxic up far enough to clamp on a rear waistlock - then arches backwards, driving Toxxic’s neck and shoulders into the mat with a Grman suplex! Dace retains the bridge for the pin...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

KICKOUT!

 

“A two count already for the High Priest of Horrorcore!” Comet exclaims as Toxxic pops out of the pin. “Dace is quite capable of throwing super-heavyweights around, so it is no problem at all for him to suplex Toxxic whenever he pleases!”

“Dace’s Germans are underrated,” Aecas observes.

“Of course,” Comet nods. “He won against Sacred by stringing three of them together, after all.”

“No, not the suplexes. Dace is training two Germans, but the so-called ‘experts’ don’t think they’ll amount to anything.”

Bobby Riley buries his head in his hands and longs for the days of Grand Slam.

 

On his knees, Toxxic fires off a right hand at Dace’s midsection. It barely slows the challenger however, who scoops Toxxic up and holds him across his chest before dropping the Straight-Edge Sensation sharply over one knee, traumatising the champion’s spine further with a backbreaker. Toxxic yells in pain at the impact, and writhes on the mat as his back sends urgent messages to his brain - but Dace cuts off communication by seizing his opponent’s left leg and starting to turn Toxxic over onto his stomach!

 

“Single-Leg Crab coming up!” Comet calls as Toxxic tries to fight it. “This move will not only further work on the back, which appears to be Dace’s target, but will also damage Toxxic’s knee and prevent him from springing around so much!”

“Toxxic couldn’t match Dace in a brawl outside the ring, and he can’t match him for technical work inside it,” Aecas claims.

“He took you to the cleaners at the Pay-Per-View though,” Bobby Riley says without thinking.

 

And the commentary team goes very quiet.

 

“Dace applies the Crab!” Comet says, voice tinkling with nervousness. “He’s got Toxx- no, the champion has reached the ropes almost immediately! His struggles disguised the fact that he was moving across the ring, so that when Dace applied the hold the ropes were-”

“Toxxic beat me at From The Fire,” Aecas acknowledges quietly. “But believe me, after Dace has finished with him here... I get what’s left.”

 

Dace reluctantly breaks his grasp on Toxxic’s leg as Bobby Riley breathes an enormous sigh of relief and Terrence shouts “C’mon Dace!” in his thick Aussie accent from the floor. Flashing a momentary grin at his friend, Dace grabs Toxxic’s head with one hand and brings his knee sharply upwards, stunning the champion with a shot to the temple. Dazed, Toxxic tries to pull away - but Dace strikes again with the other knee, knocking his opponent back onto his arse. Fully in control now Dace brandishes the Horns at the Key Arena crowd, who almost universally respond in like kind whilst Less Than Jake shake their heads in despair. Grabbing Toxxic by the neck again Dace hauls him back up, then lifts his opponent and brings him to rest face down over the Brummy’s right shoulder. Taking a few steps into the corner to get a decent run-up Dace starts to pick up pace across the ring, looking to bring Toxic over and down with a devastating powerslam...

 

...but as they reach the middle of the ring Toxxic’s frantic kicking allows him to slip backwards out of Dace’s grasp, and just like against Aecas at From The Fire the double champion hooks in a rear headlock on the way down! The crowd hold their breath, expecting at any moment to see the Repeat To Fade applied - but Toxxic drops to one knee, driving the back of Dace’s neck into the other, before popping up and spinning round, planting Dace’s face into the mat with a picture-perfect Diamond Cutter!

 

“Detoxx!” Comet calls as Toxxic rolls away from the momentarily-stunned Dace. “But why didn’t Toxxic apply the Repeat To Fade?”

“He’s just taken a beating, Comet,” Riley answers, the menacing presence of Aecas for once forcing him to actually do his job as analyst, “and Dace is a lot stronger and has great stamina. Toxxic wouldn’t have been able to wrestle Dace into the move, so he went for an option that will give him some breathing room!”

“He should treasure breathing,” Aecas says conversationally. “You never know when he might stop.”

 

Apparently feeling a little better Toxxic rolls over to Dace and covers his opponent, making sure to hook the leg deep under the chin...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TW-KICKOUT!

 

“Not even a two-count for Toxxic!” Comet exclaims in surprise as the champion looks up at Michael Hall in disbelief. “A vivid demonstration, if any were needed, of the difference in resilience between these two men!”

“Yes, but Dace has to actually connect with moves,” Bobby Riley argues. “And now that Toxxic has got his breath back I don’t think that’ll be happening!”

 

Clearly upset at his cover’s lack of success Toxxic straddles the Brummy’s chest (causing Bobby Riley to hyperventilate slightly) before pounding away at Dace with right hands whilst the challenger tries to shield himself with his arms. Michael Hall’s count reaches “five” far too quickly for Toxxic’s liking, but the Straight-Edge Sensation desists his assault and grabs Dace’s right wrist before dropping sideways into an armbar. Toxxic leans back in an attempt to hyper-extend Dace’s right elbow, but although the High Priest of Horrorcore is clearly in some discomfort there is no sign he is in immediate danger of tapping. Using the incredible strength in his arms and legs Dace starts to edge himself closer to the ropes whilst Janus starts to pound the canvas, leading the crowd in a chant.

 

“LET’S GO DA-CE!” *clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO DA-CE!” *clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO DA-CE!” *clap-clap-clap*

 

Despite Toxxic’s best efforts the Brummy Goth manages to gain ground until his foot finally manages to rest on the ropes. The challenger wrenches back on his hold, determined to squeeze the last bit of use out of it... but again Michael Hall’s count reaches “five” and Toxxic is forced to release a moment before disqualification.

 

“Why, Toxxic?” Riley questions. “Why not just get DQ’d?”

“Because he can’t gloat about being the best if he gets disqualified,” Cyclone Comet mutters darkly.

“It’s also quite difficult to gloat when you’re not breathing,” Aecas remarks casually.

 

Dace starts to use the ropes to pull himself up using his left arm, but Toxxic darts back in and delivers a kick to Horrorcore’s right appendage. Dace cradles the limb, and seeing this Toxxic attacks again with more kicks before grabbing Dace’s wrist again and twisting it into an armwringer. Again, the effect on the challenger is more discomfort than actual pain, but Toxxic knows how to remedy that. Running towards the nearest set of turnbuckles the double champion vaults to the top - then comes flying off, bringing Dace down and crushing his arm against the mat with a diving legdrop! The impact causes Dace to grunt in pain, and the reaction encourages Toxxic to go further. Retaining his hold the Straight-Edge Sensation starts to pull Dace up by his trapped limb, before unloading with more kicks. Each one brings a wince from the Brummy Goth until Toxxic turns and vaults to the top turnbuckle again - then jumps straight down to the floor, guillotining Dace’s arm across the taut top cable! Horrorcore staggers away from the ring ropes clutching his wounded arm as Toxxic turns around to taunt the crowd - only to find himself face-to-chest with Terrence Bailey!

 

“Ooh, this could get interesting...” Comet murmurs as Toxxic’s grey eyes meet Bailey’s green ones, staring down at the ICTV champion from a height of over a foot. “Terrence Bailey is the only one of the Unholy Trinity not to have had any contact with Toxxic thus far, but the Australian looks like he might change that now!”

“Go on, Janus, punch him!” Riley shouts. “Get Dace DQ’d, end this farce and get yourself... er... heh-heh...”

“You were saying?” Aecas asks mildly from beside the suddenly recalcitrant commentator.

 

Fired up on adrenaline Toxxic shows no sign of usual caution and seems to be egging Terrence on... but the giant Australian merely raises an eyebrow and then steps aside. Confused, Toxxic turns back to the ring - only to be flattened by a flying Dace Night!

 

“ELLLLBOOOOWWWW SUICIDA!” Comet yells as Dace mashes Toxxic’s face with a devastating diving blow. “But wait a minute... Dace is hurt too!”

 

Indeed, although Toxxic is writhing on the outside and clutching his face Dace is also in severe pain and cradling his right arm... the arm that he unthinkingly used to deliver his latest attack.

 

“Don’t I always say it Comet?” Riley shouts as the crowd starts to attempt to cheer Dace back up again. “Take away a man’s strongest arm and you take away his most powerful weapon!”

“Take away your strongest arm and you take away your social life...” Comet mutters.

 

Pushing himself up on one arm, Dace Night casts a glance over at Toxxic. The champion is moving on the mats, but without any obvious purpose, and Dace still has a chance to regain the momentum. Regaining his feet Dace walks over to Toxxic and simply plants a massive kick into the straight-edger’s ribs. The impact blasts the air from Toxxic’s lungs and the champion rolls away, partly from the force of the blow and partly to try and escape. Dace lunges after him, grabs Toxxic by the hair and pulls him upright - then whips the champion towards the ring steps!

 

*CLANG!!*

 

But Toxxic reverses, and it is Dace who gets a harsh welcome at steel city! With his opponent in a seated position Toxxic takes a couple of quick steps forward - then smashes into Dace’s face with a basement dropkick! The crushing blow against the steps causes even Horrorcore’s notoriously thick skull severe pain, and as Dace tries to shake away the stars Toxxic grabs the Brummy’s right arm and drapes it over the top step. Balancing on his hands Toxxic raises himself into the air - then comes crashing down again, driving the point of his knee right into Dace’s arm!

 

“Yaaaaarrrrrggghhh!”

 

Even the High Priest of Horrorcore is going to be hurting after a move like that, and the sudden jarring pain brings Dace back to the here-and-now. Wrenching his arm away Dace desperately slides under the bottom rope in a dual bid to gain some time and avoid being counted out. As Michael Hall reaches “nine” Toxxic gets to the apron, then vaults to the top rope and springs across the ring, taking Dace off his feet with a spinning heel kick! Diving on top of his opponent, Toxxic hooks the leg...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

KICKOUT!

 

“No joy as yet for the champion!” Comet calls. “Dace’s arm is hurting, but the rest of the challenger’s body is still fine for kicking out of pin attempts!”

“You can’t fight back with only one arm though, Comet!” Riley asserts. “It’s only a matter of time now, I’m sure.”

 

Despite the pain in his arm Dace still gets to his feet fast enough... but Toxxic fires off a couple of European uppercuts to back the bigger man into the ropes. Grabbing that right wrist again Toxxic attempts to whip Dace across the ring, but the High Priest of Horrorcore reverses, sending Toxxic into the cables instead! As the champion rebounds towards him Dace puts his head down for a back-bodydrop - but Toxxic kills his momentum and nails Dace with a facebuster to the knee! Seeking to complete the Sobering Thought combo Toxxic snares Dace in a front facelock prior to dropping him on his head with a DDT - but Dace hoists him up and over, bridging out into a Northern Lights Suplex for a pin!

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

KICKOUT!

 

“Dace came close there!” Comet shouts. “Toxxic really needs to be wary of the challenger.”

“Just because Dace can beat the living crap out of you, it doesn’t mean he can’t wrestle.” Aecas asserts. “People sometimes forget that... and then they lose to him.”

 

Both men rise simultaneously from the pin, and Dace strikes first with a vicious knife-edge chop:

 

*CRACK!!*

“WHOOO!”

 

The impact jars the Brummy’s arm, but the sickening smack seems to incite Dace and he swings again... only for Toxxic to raise both his forearms, blocking the shot! This result is less kind to Dace’s wounded limb and the challenger cradles his arm again, turning away from his opponent. Seeing his opportunity Toxxic reaches around Dace from behind, wraps his hands across Dace’s forehead and sits out, slamming the back of the Brummy’s head into the canvas with the Underkill! Reaching forward to cradle a leg, Toxxic shouts at referee Hall to count...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

KICKOUT!

 

Annoyed at his opponent’s resilience Toxxic grabs Dace’s head and brings the challenger up before driving Dace’s face down into his knee and then dropping the Brummy on his head with a DDT, managing this time to hit the Sobering Thought without interruption. Dace lies stunned on his back, but Toxxic has greater aspirations and quickly ascends to the top turnbuckle. Twirling his fingers over his head in the universal symbol for “high risk” the Straight-Edge Sensation dives off, somersaulting forward to nail the Hangover legdrop! The crowd in the Key Arena groan as the move hits, and with his cocky lopsided grin back in place Toxxic hooks the leg for the cover...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

KICKOUT!

 

“He’s getting closer!” Bobby Riley shouts, but there is still some fire left in Dace Night - the kickout had far too much authority for Toxxic’s liking. The champion reaches down to bring Dace up again, but this time as soon as he is vertical Dace drives his knee into Toxxic’s midsection! The crowd (and Terrence) come alive at the High Priest of Horrorcore’s apparent revival, and grabbing the back of Toxxic’s head with his left hand Dace drives the champion’s head into the top turnbuckle before hammering his face with a left-armed elbow smash. The impact is less than Dace could have summoned with his right arm, but still enough to stagger Toxxic back against the turnbuckles. Grabbing his opponent with his left hand again, Dace hauls on Toxxic’s arm and sends the rookie across the ring before turning and following...

 

...but as he reaches the other turnbuckle Toxxic suddenly vaults to the top, then comes diving back at Dace with the flying clothesline he calls the Role Reversal! Dace is taken down, but almost immediately Horrorcore begins to stir. Seeking to gain the advantage Toxxic slips out to the ring apron, then as Dace rises he vaults to the middle of the top rope and across the ring...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

...BUT DACE NAILS HIM IN MIDAIR WITH A YAKUZA KICK!!

 

“RRRAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!”

“LET’S GO DA-CE!” *clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO DA-CE!” *clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO DA-CE!” *clap-clap-clap*

 

Dropping back onto his opponent, Dace hooks the leg with his left arm and rolls into the pin...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-NINE-TENTHS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

KICKOUT!

 

“No! The champion kicks out!” Comet cries as Toxxic’s shoulder spasms off the canvas at the last second. “But that devastating blow has certainly turned things back in the favour of the Unholy Trinity member!”

“It’s just a matter of time now,” Aecas predicts softly.

 

Dace looks up at Michael Hall but the referee stands firm, brandishing two fingers. The pragmatic Dace wastes no more time and starts to pull Toxxic back to his feet. As he reaches a vertical base the groggy champion lashes out with a right hand, but Dace ducks the blow and slips behind him - then clamps on a rear waistlock.

 

“If Dace lands another German here, this one will be over!” Comet calls excitedly.

“Who says he’s just going to land one?” Aecas asks.

 

Spreading his legs wide, Dace prepares to arch backwards and drop Toxxic with another devastating German suplex, but the knowledge of what’s in store seems to galvanise the champion who desperately lashes backwards with elbows. The barrage connects and the momentary breathing space allows Toxxic to lunge forward and grab the ropes. Dace refuses to release the hold in spite of this, and Michael Hall steps in to do his job - but Toxxic abruptly jerks his head backwards, smashing the back of his own skull into Dace’s nose! The impact causes Dace to release his grip and sends him staggering backwards; turning, Toxxic measure his opponent for a second before darting in and snapping off a superkick...

 

...that Dace ducks! The High Priest of Horrorcore slips round behind Toxxic again, fastens both arms around his waist - and as the crowd in the Key Arena rise to their feet, arches backwards...

 

“YEEEAAAAAAAA-OOOOHHHHHHH!!”

 

...but Toxxic flips out and lands on his feet as Dace falls backwards!

 

“That right arm betrayed Dace again there,” Comet cries. “Toxxic had managed to weaken it to the point where Dace couldn’t hold the waistlock, allowing the champion to escape that move!”

 

Desperate to retain his momentum Dace pushes himself up off the mat and turns to face Toxxic, but the champion has had half a second to regain his bearings, and lashes out with a boot to the midsection. Dace doubles over, and Toxxic places him in a vertical headscissors before reaching down and hooking Dace’s left arm up... his right arm up... and brings the High Priest of Horrorcore

 

 

 

UP...

 

 

 

AROUND...

 

 

 

and...

 

 

 

DOWN!!

 

“TOXXIC SHOCK SYNDROME!” Comet yells as Dace’s face is driven into the canvas by the spinning Pedigree. “Against all the odds, Toxxic did it!”

“Count, Hall!” Riley screams. “Dammit, count!”

 

Rolling Dace over, Toxxic desperately hooks both legs and tries to pile all of Dace’s weight onto his shoulders...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-NINE-TENTHS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

“RRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!”

 

Absolutely aghast, Toxxic stares up at Michael Hall. Despite the Straight-Edge Sensation’s vociferous protests however, the referee stands his ground and holds up only two fingers. Furious, Toxxic rises to his feet and starts to spit abuse at the SWF’s head ref, who first tries to calm the irate Brit and then starts to snap back himself.

 

“Toxxic getting needlessly distracted here,” Comet says as the two men argue vociferously. “He needs to turn round and get back onto Dace if he’s going to win...”

 

Finally Toxxic turns away from Michael Hall, only to see to his astonishment that Dace is struggling to his feet! With an angry yell Toxxic charges in... but Dace ducks the clothesline, and as Toxxic turns round, trying to keep tabs on his opponent, Dace fires off a kick to the stomach and then spikes the champion down with a DDT!

 

“HOR-ROR-CORE!”

“HOR-ROR-CORE!”

“HOR-ROR-CORE!”

 

“ONE!” Michael Hall counts as both men lie flat on their back, each a little too battered to get straight back up.

 

“TWO!”

 

“Toxxic’s lack of concentration may have lost him the ICTV Title,” Comet says as both men start to stir.

 

“THREE!”

 

“He’d lost it before he ever stepped into the ring,” Aecas returns, dead white eyes fixed on the two forms trying to push themselves upright.

 

“FOUR!”

 

“Toxxic should have won it after the Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” Riley argues. “Hall counted slowly! How else would Dace kick out?”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“Well - I have,” Aecas smirks.

 

“SI-”

 

Michael Hall’s count is cut off as Dace Night makes it to his feet. Moments later Toxxic rises too, but the challenger is already moving. Grabbing Toxxic’s left wrist in his right hand Dace spins his opponent around, then grabs Toxxic’s right wrist in his left - and pulls Toxxic’s own arms up around his throat, applying a Goku-Raku Choke!”

 

“D.N.R!” Comet yells. “Dace going for the Do Not Resuscitate!”

 

Toxxic desperately struggles against the force of his own limbs, but the harder he tries to get away the less air reaches his lungs. Dace tries to manoeuvre the slippery champion into a position to apply the body scissors part of the hold, but Toxxic’s constant wriggling makes this difficult. The crowd in the Key Arena come to their feet, convinced that Dace is going to do it... but Toxxic still has one card left. Ignoring his right arm and his escape attempts, Tosxxic wrenches his left arm with all his might. Dace’s greater strength would normally hold the Straight-Edge Sensation tight, but the weakened right arm hasn’t quite got the strength it once did. Dace tries to resist - but suddenly, Toxxic manages to free his arm and begins to twist away! Dace reaches forward, trying to recapture the escaping limb...

 

...and feeling Dace’s head resting above his own, Toxxic reaches up with his left hand, clamps Dace’s chin to the top of his head and sits out in a modified jawbreaker.

 

“YES!” Bobby Riley shouts as the Key Arena boos in unison. “Come on, Tox- er... I’ll just be quiet, shall I?”

“Good idea,” the Black Angel snarls.

 

Dace clamps both hands to his chin as Toxxic scuttles away, and for a moment the high priest of Horrorcore isn’t looking at his opponent. Seizing his opportunity Toxxic runs in from sideways on, jumping in the air and hooking his arm around Dace’s neck before swinging round and bringing Dace crashing down with the Straight Edge neckbreaker! With Dace down on the mat Toxxic knows he has one last chance to get the victory, and the battered straight-edger staggers over to the ropes. Ducking between them he steps out onto the apron, midway between the two ring posts... then vaults to the middle of the top rope...

 

...springs off, flipping backwards as he jumps forward...

 

...and crashes down, one leg slamming into Dace’s windpipe!

 

“IN-GLORRRR-IOUS!” Bobby Riley sings out.

“Toxxic hits the Inglorious!” Comet yells at the same time. “Could that Shooting Star Legdrop be enough?”

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

TWO-AND-NINE-TENTHS!!

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING! DING!*

 

Dace Night’s shoulder jerks off the canvas - but this time it’s half a second too late. The guitars of ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ starts up in the Key Arena as Anthony Michael Hall presents Toxxic with the two title belts, and Funyon’s voice starts to boom out:

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, and STILL Intercontinental-Television Cham-”

 

But Funyon is cut off by Toxxic desperately rolling out of the ring as the Straight-Edge Sensation flees the arrival of Aecas! The seven-footer hits the ring wielding his Flick Scythe and with bad intentions written on his black-and-white-painted face, but Toxxic manages to get out of the way... only to turn around into Terrence Bailey for the second time this evening! Smiling slightly, Bailey raises the Equalizer as Aecas watches from the ring and the one fan wearing a ‘Hardcore Punk’ T-shirt puts his hands over his eyes. Terrence opens his mouth to say something...

 

...and a stocky figure with a hooded sweatshirt hiding his face vaults over the guard rail! In the ring Aecas points past Terrence’s shoulder, desperately trying to get the giant Aussie to turn around - but the figure drops to one knee behind the Anti-Heel Machine and swings its arm up in a punishing blow to Terrence’s happy-happy-joy-joy area! The giant’s eyes bulge and his knees start to buckle - there is still enough left in Terrence to attempt a grab at Toxxic as he darts past but the straight-edger is too quick, and together with the hooded man Toxxic flees to the top of the ramp as Aecas starts to climb out of the ring, while Dace Night begins to pick himself up inside it. At the top of the entrance ramp Toxxic laughs at the Unholy Trinity, raising one title belt in each hand whilst beside him his accomplice pushes his hood back - to reveal the grinning face of Jimmy “The Demon” Liston!

 

“Liston!?” Comet yells. “Are you telling me that Toxxic and his impromptu tag partner from Storm are actually in cahoots?”

“I don’t know, Comet, but I love it!” Riley answers. “Janus looked like a nauseous goldfish!”

“Join us next time, Citizens, for another fantastic SWF show!” Comet pimps as Toxxic and Liston disappear, leaving a battered Dace, an angry Aecas and an increasingly unstable looking Terrence - or possibly Janus. “Until then - be excellent to each other!”

 

 

FADE OUT

 

Smarks Wrestling Federation

Copyright 2004

[the.weej 0]

Phew...

 

RESULTS:

 

What, you think I'd actually give them to you? Ahhhahahahahaha, right. Read what is, without question, the best regular show we've had in a long, LONG time.

 

Card will be up eventually.

 

-Z