SWF LOCKDOWN! LIVE FROM PHILLY!

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

EARLIER...

 

A black Ford Crown Victoria pulls into a 'reserved' parking stall outside the Wachovia Center. There is a pause as the car idles for a moment, and then the engine is killed. With a quiet "ka-chack," the driver's side door swings open, and SWF Commissioner 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens exits. He adjusts his varsity jacket and glasses, before reaching into the car and pulling a few manilla dossiers out of the car, along with a briefcase. He heaves a notable sigh, and then shuts the door of the car, and is interrupted by a voice from across the parcade.

 

"Hey, Mark!"

 

"Hey, Steve," Mark replies, tiredly, as SWF security stalward Steve Simon walks up to him and his rental car.

 

"What's wrong, Mark? You look pretty tired. Usually you're a little peppier before a show."

 

"Hmph. Thought I could hide it a little better," says Mark, only half joking. "It's just... I dunno, Steve, the day's seem like they get a little longer. Between Va'aiga, and then Duran and the rest of the Unnamed, and then Toxxic... I think this job's really starting to catch up with me."

 

Steve nods knowingly as Mark continues, "And that was just these last couple months, y'know?"

 

"Well, you've been the most dependable commissioner we've ever had, Mark. But I mean, if the grind's really wearing you down..."

 

"Steve, I know where you're going with this."

 

"Oh, no, I didn't mean THAT," Simon chuckles, raising one hand defensively. "I meant more that you could name an interim commish or something, if you wanted to take some time away."

 

Mark thinks about Steve's words for a minute, and his expression is a decidedly lopsided one. "I'm not even sure who I'd trust, Steve."

 

"Yeah, I guess there's always that to it," nods Simon, before his walkie-talkie crackles to life. "Oh, damn, I gotta' run, Mark. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Keep your stick on the ice!"

 

Pause. Grand Slam raises a brow.

 

"Um, well, you know what I meant."

 

"Sure, Steve. Anyway, I'll let you go... I've got to go do an interesting introduction for the Toxxic vs IL match. Nice talking to you!" The SWF security officer waves Mark off, before finally attending to his transmitter, as we fade to...

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

**BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM**

 

It's pyro-a-go-go, as SWF Lockdown, March 31st, initiates, and it's sure to be one hell of show!

 

"We better post this fast, because Aecas is leaving for work and he wants to see if he won his match or not!" Bobby Riley says, blatantly out-of-character, receiving only a puzzled look from Comet.

 

"...Post the show? What ever do you mean, Citizen Riley?"

 

"Nevermind. HERE WE GO!"

 

 

SWF LOCKDOWN, *LIVE* FROM THE *SOLD OUT* WACHOVIA CENTER IN PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA!

(5:00pm PST, 8:00pm EST; check local listings)

 

 

MAIN EVENT

WORLD TITLE MATCH

Charlie "Grappler" Matthews© vs Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix

The only thing Charlie Matthews may have wanted more than the world title is to paste John Duran. But after THAT, it's to annihilate the rest of the Unnamed. BUT after THAT, it's to be regarded as a fighting champion. The world champeen gets to accomplish two of those tonight, as he takes on--in a rather shocking surprise--Landon Maddix, who has been heavily preoccupied with Alan Clark as of late. For the closest follower of Todd's Word, this could be an enormous break... or a spine broken in more than two places. Either way, it shold be a most interesting way to cap off a helacious night of action.

 

WINDOW PAIN MATCH

Dace Night vs Alan Clark

Katie bar the door! Just do something with the bar so Dace doesn't get his hands on it. No doubt INCREDIBLY pissed off after being upset, and in convincing fashion at that, by the surging Toxxic, Dace Night returns to what he does best to get the frustration out: Straight wrecking someone's shit with something sharp and jagged. His unfortunate opponent, Alan Clark, is not to be underestimated... however, his focus has been almost 100% on Landon Maddix recently, and it has shown in his preformance. It would definitely be advisable that Clark keep his focus at the task at hand tonight, lest he be showing his internal organs by the end.

 

SINGLES MATCH

"The Notorious" John Duran vs Todd Royal

This show it just full of strange matches, huh? Not that the commissioner is BIASED or anything, but damn it, Duran's been winning just a little too much for Mark's liking, and maybe he can change that with a cureball. Lord knows he can't deny Grappler to Duran FOREVER, but in the mean time, he faces... his own stablemate? Todd Royal has been less than Toddly lately, and facing off against his en feugo stable leader may not be the easiest way to change that. But at the very least, these two man can put aside the fact Duran's Unnamed leadership has been done without much valour, and Todd's obvious... ego discrepancies to face off in a good old fashioned wrestling match, right? ...right?

 

USJL TITLE MATCH

CAGE MATCH

"Coyote" Coy West© vs Stryke

Sometimes, you don't need a thousand words to set something up. Stryke returns, AGAIN, and faces off against the Coyote, who has been lacking comers for any USJL title defenses. They throw down in what might end up being the safest match of the night.

 

SINGLES MATCH

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs Ann "Ichiban" Onita

Another match that doesn't need much explanation! Annie and Tom are classic opponents, having faced countless times in years past. We do a throwback to when Annie had only turned heel-to-face three or four times, and Tom was merely frightening opposed to ridiculously dominant. Gotta' love it.

 

TAG TEAM TITLES

Wild & Dangerous© vs Aecas and Janus

There's not much to debate: W&D have been erring on the side of invincibility in their defenses, conjouring up memories of their arch rivals, Justice & Rule, with the white-knuckled grip they've got on the tag team titles. They will not relent them to anyone until they're pried from their cold, dead hands... and you know what? Aecas and Janus wouldn't have it any other way.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Edward James vs Mike Van Siclen

Edward James is still a n00b, but he's yet to pick up a victory in his first two matches. He takes on the plummeting Mike Van Siclen, in what should be an easy victory.

 

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

PHILADELPHIA STREET FIGHT, THROUGH-THE-SHOW BRAWL

Toxxic© vs Insane Luchadore

Well, you knew this had to happen eventually. Toxxic is surging, beating all who dare to face him and charging his way up the card. His defeat of Dace Night is one of the bigger upsets in recent memory, and he's on a crash course with the rest of the Trinity, Aecas especially, without question. However... standing in his way is one of the most accomplished hardcore wrestler's in fed history, and the very may Toxxic pried loose the ICTV title from. He will not face IL in a rematch for that, but rather, on the stage he is most versed in, in a recreation of one of the most creative stipulations in SWF history...

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

“Welcome to Philadelphia,” exclaims an ecstatic Cyclone Comet. “Welcome to the Wachovia Center! We’ve got a tremendous night of SWF action lined up here tonight on Lockdown! Alongside Bobby Riley, I’m…”

 

“Don’t say it,” interjects Riley.

 

 

“CYYYYYYYYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET,” he finishes happily. “And tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got four, count ‘em, FOUR title matches! We’ll see Toxxic defend the Hardcore Title against the Insane Luchador!”

 

“Toxxic is the fastest-rising superstar in the SWF today,” adds Riley. “He’s run over just about everyone foolish enough to cross his path, and the Luchador is going to become his latest victim!”

 

“We’ll also see Wild and Dangerous defending the Tag Team Titles against Aecas and Janus of the Unholy Trinity!”

 

“It’s going to be brute size and power versus speed and experience,” says Riley. “Personally, I think that the Trinity will walk away with the Tag Team Titles tonight; Wild and Dangerous are way overdue for a loss, and this is exactly the sort of team that they have problems with!”

 

“And then, we’ve got Coy West defending the USJL Title against Stryke in a steel cage!”

 

“Stryke can’t even retire without quitting,” jokes Riley. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he quit halfway through the match!”

 

“And, in the main event,” concludes Comet, “we have the World Heavyweight Champion, Charlie Matthews, defending his title against Landon Maddix!”

 

“Maddix is going to bring glory to his Todd here in Philadelphia, as well as the rest of the Unnamed,” says Riley. “Mark my words, Comet: Matthews WILL feel the Wrath of Todd tonight!”

 

“All that yet to come, as well as a whole lot more,” says Comet, “and we’ll be starting off with a real dandy of a match, as Toxxic defends his Hardcore Title in a Philadelphia Street Fight…”

 

 

ATTENTION!

 

 

“Wait a minute,” shouts Comet.

 

 

ALL YOU NIGGAZ!

 

ALL YOU BITCHES!

 

 

“What the hell is going on here,” roars Riley.

 

 

TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…

 

 

TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA…

 

 

The fanatical Philly fans begin to cheer wildly as Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to blast through the speakers. Within seconds, the Bahama Bomber walks out from behind the curtain, sans face paint and clad in an aquamarine and black jumpsuit rather than his regular ring attire. He pauses at the head of the ramp only long enough to acknowledge the crowd, before heading down towards the ring.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon. “Please welcome to the ring, one half of the Tag Team Champions, the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild slides underneath the bottom rope to enter the ring and immediately scrambles to his feet, striding across the ring and retrieving the microphone from Funyon.

 

“What the hell is he doing out here now,” growls Riley. “Doesn’t he know that we have a Hardcore Title Match scheduled to go on right now?”

 

“Well, Wildchild is no stranger to the Hardcore Title,” answers Comet. “I’m sure that Wildchild got permission from Commissioner Stevens to delay the match just a few moments. Wildchild is a young man of few words, though; I can’t help but wonder just what is on his mind to bring him out here…”

 

Wildchild motions to the audio technicians to cut off his music, and then paces back and forth across the ring as he attempts to gather himself. Finally, he appears to focus on an imaginary point in the crowd as he lifts the microphone to his lips to speak. “I asked Commissioner Mark Stevens to all me t’come out here, because I saw somet’ing on Storm last week dat upset me a great deal. Roll dat footage!”

 

The crowd turns its attention to the SmarkTron as it begins to display a flashback of the ending of the Cruiserweight Rules match between Alan Clark and Tom Flesher:

 

<< Flashback: >>

 

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.

 

<< End Flashback >>

 

The flashback ends, and the camera focuses back on Wildchild, who is moving anxiously from side to side while fiddling with the microphone, a mixture of disappointment and anger painted on his face. “Tom,” he says, “you know dat I respect you as a man an’ as a competitor, but I have t’say dat I was very disappointed by your actions las’ week. You disrespected de Cruiserweight Title… an’ when you disrespect de Cruiserweight Title,” he pauses to turn to face the camera, “you disrespect ME!”

 

The crowd is a mixture of murmurs and cheers, as the fans wait in nervous anticipation of what’s about to unfold. “For de entire length of my career here in de SWF,” continues Wildchild, “I busted my ass to get de Cruiserweight division restored, and den I had t’work even harder to establish an’ validate it. I understand dat what you really want t’regain de World Heavyweight Title, Tom, an’ I respect dat… but dat belt is my life’s work, Tom, an’ I will not allow you t’spit on it like you did last week! Now I expect, an’ DEMAND an apology, an’ I want it right NOW!”

 

“Well, evidently,” says Comet, “Wildchild took exception to Tom Flesher’s behavior last week on Storm. I guess we’ll get to see if Tom is a man of integrity and comes out to explain himself.”

 

“That’s it… THAT IS IT!”

 

“Wait just a moment,” exclaims Comet. “That’s not Tom Flesher’s voice!” The crowd murmurs in confusion as Mike Van Siclen steps out from behind the curtain, microphone in hand. “That’s it! This is the last straw!”

 

“What does this nutjob want,” wonders Riley. Van Siclen walks out onto the stage to no fanfare, staring down the ramp at Wildchild. “I’ve had to put up with this for two years now, and I’ve had enough!”

 

Wildchild looks back at the Spectacle, completely bewildered. “Mike, I don’ know what’s on your mind, but if you’ll just…”

 

“SHUT UP,” bellows Van Siclen. “Just shut up! I’m talking now; you listen!” By now, the Philly fans are beginning to boo Mike, who ignores them as he continues. “This was supposed to be my time, Wildchild, as if you didn’t know! I asked Stevens for this segment, because I had an announcement to make, but you just couldn’t allow ol’ Mike Van Siclen to have anything, could you?”

 

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about,” asks Comet.

 

“Stevens promised me this segment,” Van Siclen repeats, “but his boy Wildchild hurts his mangina and wants to have a little cry-in, so who gets bumped? That’s right: me! Once again, Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous screw me!

 

“Ever since the JL, I’ve had to put up with the two of you holding me down… getting title shots and contenders’ matches that should have gone to ME! Getting promo time that should have gone to ME!”

 

“Is he serious,” shouts Comet. “Can he really believe that he deserved those matches more than Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous?”

 

Wildchild can only look baffled inside the ring, as Van Siclen goes on. “I’m sick and tired of you two always standing in my spotlight, getting the recognition that should rightfully be mine! Getting the opportunities that should rightfully be mine! I was the first bumpee of the last calendar year to win SWF gold, but who gets all the hype? Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous!”

 

“Not to split hairs or anything,” says Comet, “but Ejiro Fasaki was actually the first bumpee to win gold last year when he and Judge Mental won the Tag Team Titles.”

 

“Quiet,” scolds Riley. “Van Siclen’s making a point!”

 

“Even when I tried to work with you two, you couldn’t keep from holding me down! All everyone could talk about was how Wild and Dangerous made Catch-22 a force to be reckoned with; I was an afterthought! ME, Mike Van Siclen, an afterthought! That was supposed to be my ticket to the top, my stepping-stone to bigger and better things, but the two of you ruined it for me!”

 

“Holy revisionist history,” says Comet. “Now Van Siclen is blaming Wild and Dangerous for the fall of Catch-22!”

 

“Well, let’s hear him out,” says Riley. “He could be onto something here.”

 

“How do I know that you two are to blame,” continues the Spectacle. “Well, let’s look at the facts… what happened after you sabotaged Catch-22? Wild and Dangerous move on to bigger and better things: title shots, high-level programs, a Pay Per View Main Event! What happened to Mike Van Siclen? Five solid months of dark matches! I couldn’t even get on TV! “I was sent to do promotional tours in Kuala Lumpur while you two were having feature matches on Pay Per View. What the (bleep) is that all about? I lost my chance to get to the top, and it’s all your fault!”

 

“You know,” says Riley, “the more that Van Siclen says, the more he starts to make sense.”

 

“That’s preposterous,” replies Comet. “This is all conjecture at best; more like a ridiculous conspiracy theory!”

 

“So I finally get my chance to get back on TV, when they call me back up for the Cluster(bleep),” continues Van Siclen, “but what happens after that? More burying of Mike Van Siclen, that’s what! While you two are getting Tag Team Title shots, I’m getting fed to Thugg! While you two get to coast in a three-on-one handicap match, I’m getting fed to Tom Flesher! You get handpicked by management to be the centerpiece of the Cruiserweight division, and what do I get? I get to jerk the curtain with some rookie, that’s what I get! I’m sick and tired, and sick and tired, and sick and tired of BEING sick and tired of you two holding me down, and it stops right now!”

 

At this point, Wildchild’s confusion has turned into irritation, but the Spectacle ignores him, and continues ranting. “You, especially, Wildchild! I’m so sick you being management’s ‘chosen one.’ You get bruise your ribs, and they allow you to wrestle with a chest protector! What’s that all about?”

 

“I told you that thing was illegal,” chimes Riley.

 

“Oh, get off it,” snaps Comet. “You know damned well that it wasn’t illegal!”

 

“Well, at the very least it was favoritism,” mutters Riley.

 

“You get everything handed to you on a silver platter,” rants Van Siclen. “It’s not fair! You two get a Tag Team Title match; who did you beat to get that match? Nobody, that’s who! Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous keep getting title shot after title shot, while ol’ Mike Van Siclen gets to jerk the curtain! Well, let me tell you, I’ve had it up to here with you two holding me down, and I’m taking matters into my own hands…”

 

“What do you suppose he means by that,” wonders Comet.

 

“You and Johnny are so proud of those Tag Team Titles,” continues Van Siclen. “Well, I’ve found myself a tag team partner, somebody who, unlike the two of you, are actually on my team! Somebody who’s going to watch my back, instead of trying to stab me in it! And when we get our hands on you in the ring, we’re going to take those titles, and then YOU can find out what it’s like to be buried! So go ahead and defend the titles tonight, just as long as you know that they’re coming where they belong…” he pauses to rub his waist area with his free hand. “Right here! Right here! THAT’S WHAT I SAID!”

 

With that, the Spectacle turns around and walks backstage, leaving Wildchild fuming in the center of the ring…

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

There are no pyros, no shots of the screaming fans, no over-excited welcome at the start of this Lockdown broadcast. Instead the cameras come up to focus on the face of Commissioner Mark Stevens as he stands outside the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia. Grand Slam smiles and the shot pans back taking in the stadium behind him and the two men standing off to either side. Both are in their early twenties, both have spiky hair, and both are looking impatient. On the right stands the Insane Luchador Andrew Rickmen, the usual wild glint in his eyes and with the Misfits staring out from his t-shirt. On the left stands SWF Hardcore Gamers’ and Intercontinental-Television Champion Toxxic, wearing his “Hardcore Punk” shirt and idly cracking his neck from side-to-side.

 

“Welcome, SWF fans!” Stevens says. “Tonight it’s time to put the kids to bed early because we have a brutal night of wrestling coming up for you, kicked off by the two men you see standing behind me. This match is for the Hardcore Gamers’ Title, and will be contested under Hardcore Ironman rules - falls count anywhere on the arena grounds, and the first man to score ten pinfalls will be declared the winner. We will bring you regular updates on the progress of the match which will be covered by our new cameraman Boz, allowing Gus to accompany Ben Hardy backstage as usual. Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley will be commentating on the later stages of the match, but for now it’s just gonna be a brawl... and that, my friends,” Stevens grins at the camera, “is a damn PROMISE!”

 

“Now, in order avoid tying up one of our referees for the entire evening we have brought in a special guest referee who will be overseeing the match - and he should be coming now...”

 

Turning around Mark Stevens stares past the two competitors who twist to follow his gaze. Sauntering out of the lobby doors comes an oh-so-familiar figure dressed in a sparkly white jumpsuit, with oversized shades and a ridiculous quiff... The Memphis Eel!

 

“Him!?” Toxxic exclaims angrily at Grand Slam, jerking a thumb at the new arrival. “You’ve got to be kidding- OOF!”

 

The moment Toxxic takes his eye off his opponent the Insane Luchador springs into action, barrelling into the champion and taking him off his feet with a Spear-like takedown!

 

“Count, you piece of shit!” Rickmen barks at the Eel as his hooks the leg for the first cover. The Eel hurries over, squats down and pulls out a flyswatter which he slaps down onto the ground...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TW-kickout!

 

“What the hell is that?” Rickmen yells at the Elvis impersonator, pointing at the flyswatter.

 

“Now calm down, son,” the Eel says lugubriously. “These clothes were worn bah the King himself, and ahm not going ta be soiling the knees of this here outfit by kneelin’ on tarmac! So I gotta use this flyswat ta reach tha ground...”

 

“Stevens!” Rickmen yells, looking around for the Commissioner, who has already made himself scarce. “What the fu-”

 

*CHING!!*

 

But the Insane Luchador is cut off in mid-expletive as Toxxic’s arm flies up between his legs with crippling force, causing Rickmen’s eyes to bulge. Free from normal rule constraints Toxxic has no need to worry about disqualification, and the Straight-Edge Sensation grabs the knock-kneed Luchador and pulls him over into a schoolboy pin! The Eel squats and the flyswatter comes down again...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“First fall! Toxxic leads bah one tah nil!” the Eel informs Boz.

 

Anxious to capitalise on his advantage Toxxic hooks the leg again, and again the Eel makes his count...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE-kickout!

 

“Two only!” the Eel says, throwing up two fingers at the camera and absentmindedly combing back his quiff with the flyswatter. “Uh-hun...”

 

Annoyed at the failure of his plan to increase his lead Toxxic hauls the Insane Luchador upright again and fires off a European Uppercut, staggering the challenger. The car park looks bare of obvious weapons as the champion looks around, but grabbing Rickmen’s hair in one hand Toxxic sets off for a nearby Land Rover, pulling the sore-jawed and aching-balled Luchador behind him. Upon reaching the 4x4 Toxxic wraps his other hand around the back of Rickmen’s head and sends the Insane One downwards, ramming the challenger’s skull into the bonnet with devastating force and briefly wondering why Americans call it a “hood”. Toxxic grabs Rickmen as the Luchador staggers backwards, then Irish whips his opponent right into the bullbars on the front!

 

*BANG!!*

*WHEEP! WHEEP! WHEEP!*

 

Rickmen sprawls forwards onto the cold, unforgiving tarmac as his back connects with the front of the Land Rover, setting off the alarm. Seeing the Luchador writhe on the ground Toxxic drops down, hooks both legs and rolls into the cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Second fall! Toxxic leads bah two falls tah nil!” the Eel shouts as the flyswatter hits tarmac for the third time.

 

Toxxic tries to pick Rickmen up again, but even 200lbs is hard to lift from the floor when it’s dead weight. Toxxic braces his legs, takes a good grip and tries again...

 

*CHING!!*

 

...but Rickmen gets his revenge for earlier by slamming his forearm up into Toxxic’s happy-happy-joy-joy area! The champion’s knees buckle and Rickmen reaches up, cradling him in a small package before rolling backwards for...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Rickmen has pulled one back! Toxxic now leads bah two tah one!” the Memphis Eel informs the viewers at home.

 

Neglecting to try for the pinfall again Rickmen simply straddles his opponent and starts hammering punches down into the champion’s face. Toxxic tries to block at first, then an idea hits him and he brings his knee up HARD into the Luchador’s back! Rickmen’s back still hasn’t recovered from its meeting with the bullbars and the impact causes the challenger to desist his assault and topple gently sideways, clutching at his spine. Trying to shake off the effects of the Luchador’s blows Toxxic reverses the mount position and prepares to paste Rickmen’s face into the car park - but Rickmen jabs his fingers into the champion’s eyes, causing the Brit to howl in pain and slide off him! Toxxic backs away towards a Cadillac, one hand clamped over his eyes and the other waving wildly in front of him. Getting back to his feet Rickmen rubs his back for a moment, then sprints towards the Straight-Edge Sensation...

 

...but peeking out through his fingers, Toxxic sees him coming at the last moment and elavates the Insane One up and over with a back bodydrop! Rickmen comes down-

 

*WHAM!!*

*WHEEP! WHEEP! WHEEP!*

 

-and sets off the alarm on the Caddy! The impact jars Rickmen’s spine again and the Insane Luchador is momentarily unable to move, legs dangling over the windshield and torso spread-eagled across the bonnet. Seeing his chance to get a major advantage Toxxic climbs up to the roof of the Land Rover next to the Cadillac, pauses for a moment - then comes somersaulting off, seeking to crush Rickmen’s windpipe with the Hangover legdrop!

 

*CRASH!!*

 

But Rickmen rolls out of the way and off the Caddy, leaving Toxxic to crash and burn! The champion slides off onto the tarmac clutching his hip and Insane Luchador takes the chance to catch a few much-needed breaths. Poking his head around the bumper of the car, Rickmen sees Toxxic starting to struggle to his feet, and ignoring the twinges from his back the Luchador breaks from cover, levelling his opponent with a vicious clothesline! Rickmen dives down into the cover, seeking to stack all of Toxxic’s weight onto his shoulders...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-kickout!

 

“Only two!” The Eel shouts at Rickmen, waving his flyswatter. “Only two bah gawd!”

 

“That was three, you overweight sack of shit!” Rickmen yells, making a grab for the flyswatter. “I’m gonna shove that up your ass!”

 

“Now c’mon boy, don’ step on mah blue suede shoes...” the Eel burbles, retreating. Rickmen pursues... then stops, looks over his shoulder...

 

*SMACK!*

 

...and NAILS Toxxic in the head with a superkick as the champion attempts to get the drop on him from behind again! Hooking one of his opponent’s legs over each shoulder Rickmen leans forward, pinning Toxxic’s shoulders to the carpark and incidently assuming a similar position to the one that Landon Maddix and Megan Skye enact most nights...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Two falls each!” the Eel yells as Toxxic’s kickout comes just too late. “The goddamn flyswatter never lies, folks!”

 

Toxxic starts to rise to his feet again, but before he can get off his knees Rickmen starts landing forearm shots across the champion’s back. Winded, Toxxic can do little to resist as Rickmen hauls him upright and carts the hardcore champion the short distance back towards the arena entrance, the Luchador rubbing his back with one hand and Toxxic limping from the impact of his hip on the Caddilac’s bonnet. With the Eel backing away in front of them Rickmen’s wildly glinting eyes light upon the glass doors of the Wachovia Center, and a quick plan of action forms in the Luchador’s mad brain. Driving a knee into his opponent’s gut to prevent any resistance Rickmen grabs the waist of Toxxic trousers with one hand, the neck of his shirt with the other, and HURLS the champion at the glass doors...

 

*WHOOOSH!*

 

...which open automatically as the Memphis Eel steps on the pressure pad. Toxxic flies straight through them and skids along the polished floor of the foyer whilst Rickmen glares daggers at the blundering Eel. Seeking to maintain his advantage in the face of this unwanted turn of events the Insane Luchador runs towards Toxxic’s prone form and leaps high into the air for a legdrop... then comes crashing down across the champion’s throat! Hooking the far leg, Rickmen goes for a cover again as the Eel squats down, flyswatter at the ready, whilst Wachovia Center staff look on in surprise...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-kickout!

 

“Only two!” the Memphis Eel shouts, brandishing the damning two fingers at all and sundry in the lobby. With a cry of rage Rickmen leaps back to his feet... then doubles over with a cry of agony as his back reminds him of its recent encounters. Gritting his teeth the Insane Luchador continues towards his target - a five-foot tall potted palm placd lovingly against one of the walls. Wrapping his arms around the trunk Rickmen hoists the vegatative weapon and runs towards Toxxic - slowly. The champion looks up in time to see an apparently slow-motion Rickmen swinging for him with the ungainly weapon and ducks the devastating ceramic pot with ease, then straightens up...

 

*THUD!*

“Oof!”

 

...only to be clobbered in the midsection by the very same pot as the momentum of Rickmen’s swing on the polished floor carries him right round again! The Luchador releases the palm and staggers sideways, trying to regain his balance as Toxxic slumps to the floor with his arms wrapped around his ribs. Rickmen dives onto his opponent again, hooking the leg as the Eel drops into position...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Pinfall! Rickmen leads bah three falls tah two!” the Eel yells, waving his flyswatter in excitement. Without wasting a moment Rickmen hooks the leg again, seeking to increase his lead...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TW-kickout!

 

...but the Straight-Edge Sensation kicks out before the Memphis Eel’s flyswatter hits marble for the second time! Rickmen grabs Toxxic by the hair and angrily pulls the champion upright, then Irish whips the Brit towards the ticket desk! The staff behind it scream and cower away, but Toxxic vaults onto the counter at the last moment and springs back at Rickmen with a clothesline, flattening the challenger with a modified Role Reversal! The Insane Luchador’s head cracks off the marble floor and Toxxic clutches his ribs again - but the straight-edger is able to roll into a pin atop his temporarily stunned opponent...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

“Three all!” the Eel calls as staff in the immediate area scatter, calling for security.

 

Both men start to haul themselves to their feet. The “match” has only been going for a few minutes but they are already showing the effects, with Rickmen nursing his spine and the back of his head whilst Toxxic is clutching his ribs and is still aware of the slowly-fading ache in his right hip. Rickmen is just up first and fires off a right hand, staggering the champion... but Toxxic narrows his eyes and sends one right back at the Insane Luchador, causing Rickmen to slip and almost fall back down. The challenger regains his balance and lets fly again, but Toxxic again replies in like kind. Suddenly Boz’s camera swings around to reveal a new presence in the lobby - a large group of Girl Scouts! With badges bearing the words “Philadelphia 9th Troop” and with only a harassed-looking member of Wachovia Center staff as a guide the girls fan out to get a better view of the two wrestlers. Two startled, good-looking and well-proportioned young men with spiky hair stare back at them...

 

...and the level of teenage hormones in the lobby starts to rise at an alarming rate. Seeing the flushed cheeks, the dilated pupils and the slightly open mouths Toxxic and Andrew Rickmen stare at each other for a second.

 

“Shit,” they say in unison. And turn and run into a corridor leading to the backstage area as thirty-odd screaming Girl Scouts charge across the lobby floor, ignoring the pathetic pleadings of their guide and the yells of the crabby old Scout Mistress who’s finally caught up with them. The Memphis Eel is initially brushed aside by the yelling horde before he muscles his way back into the flow and with a cry of “Good golly, Miss Molly!” sets off after the wrestlers whose match he is meant to be refereeing. Unwilling to risk his valuable equipment by following Boz waits for the girls to pass... and as the last one disappears round the corner a hand with a spiked leather bracelet around the wrist snakes out and pulls her into the side corridor. Boz makes his way to the point of disappearance but there is no-one to be seen, and so the cameraman sets off after the receding Scout Troop in an effort to record the ongoing Hardcore Title match as we...

 

FADE OUT

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

MVS and Edward James are in the ring, ready to commence in a battle of epic proportions!

 

...But the match is stopped short, as G0R0 hits the ring and eats both of them alive! Bummer!

 

***

 

"Great, now I'm stuck inside G0R0's stomach with you until we're digested," Edward complains from within the four-armed monster's depths.

 

"I'm learning so much!" Mike says, as we cut to a commercial break.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

"Mr. Stevens?"

 

The camera comes back to life from outside the door of Mark Stevens office, as his secretary calls out his name and knocks thrice. There's a muted call of 'enter!', and she pushes open the entrace to a hastily put together, unusually disorganized looking office. Mark is idly switching his attention between some papers on his desk and the monitor set up across the room, obviously showing the scene unfolding right before viewers eyes. He seems even more tired than earlier in the night.

 

"Mr. Stevens," she repeats, "Your wife is on line four."

 

"Oh, thank you, Miranda," he says, urgently. She nods and exits, leaving Mark alone with the camera man. Picking up the phone, he taps a button, and then speaks. "Lynn! Yes, it's great to talk to you too... although I thought we had a rule about not calling me during a show unless..."

 

Stevens pauses, listening to his wife on the other line. "Really?" His face brightens a little. "But I thought the baby wasn't due for another few weeks."

 

...

 

"Well, no, not at all, that's great! I'd--"

 

Mark is cut off. His face sags a little bit.

 

"Well, I know with Chris I wasn't..."

 

...

 

"Lynn, you understand just as well as I do that my SWF commitments are very difficult to get out of. What about..."

 

...

 

 

"Your sister can't... I see. Are you sure the doctors say it's going to be this soon?"

 

...

 

"Alright. No, I'm sure I could if I tried. It's just... kinda' funny, actually, since I was talking about this with someone earlier."

 

...

 

"Okay, I see. I don't know if I can promise anything, but..."

 

...

 

"No, I understand. This is very important to me, certainly more than this job. Look, I'll go through some files and see what I can do, and then call you back after the show."

 

...

 

"Alright. I love you too. Buh-bye."

 

And with that, Mark Stevens hangs up the phone in his office, and... sighs. He leans back in his chair with a thoughtful expression, one hand cupping his face. Half elated with the news he just recieved from his wife, and half... unsure whether to be upset or amused that fate has apparently gone and made another decision for him.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

SWF Lockdown comes back from commercial with a bang, the cameras going right into a wide shot of the jam-packed Wachovia Centre. The SWF fans are buzzing with excitement as the show continues, and the camera cuts to a sweeping view taking in the faces and waving signs of the crowd. The fans eagerly await the next match of the show as the cameras finally cut back to the announcer's table, revealing the spandex-clad Cyclone Comet and his cynical partner Bobby Riley. They of course are ready as always to call the action.

 

"Good evening everyone, and welcome back to SWF LOCKDOWN! It's been a great night so far and it's fixing to get even better!" Comet cries enthusiastically.

 

"Indeed we do, and those of you too lazy to tune in earlier are just in time to watch the latest pair of 'hopefuls' try and wrest the Tag Title belts from Wild and Dangerous!"

 

"It will be a tough task indeed Robert. Citizens Wildchild and Dangerous have beaten everyone who has come against them so far, and now they are going up against the Unholy Trinity!"

 

"I wouldn't get too excited Comet. Like you said they've beaten everyone that dared challenge them, and Team Whacko will just become another statistic on that list!"

 

"We shall have to see Robert! We've still got a great show in store for you, citizens! The USJL and the World Title will both be on the line tonight, as well as a Window Pain match between Citizens Night and Clark!"

 

"I'll tell you this much Comet, the last place I'd want to be tonight is in Alan Clark's shoes. Dace Night is going to be in no mood to mess around, no after losing his chance of winning the ICTV title on Storm."

 

"Indeed, tonight is not a night to envy Citizen Clark. But another thing to keep in mind is that tonight we see Unnamed versus Unnamed! Citizen Duran against Citizen Royal!"

 

"Mark Stevens is going too far, Comet!"

 

"What do you mean, Robert?"

 

"I mean pitting stablemates against one another, especially two great wrestlers from an even greater stable!"

 

"Some might see it as justification, after Citizen Duran tried to get under our Commissioner's skin so much."

 

Riley sighs. "You're not listening to me Comet! The point is..."

 

However Riley is cut off before he can speak his mind, as "Y.O.U." by the Method Man and Redman hits the arena speakers! The fans erupt into cheers as they hear the music, the cheers doubling in volume as the SWF's tag team champions emerge from the entranceway. Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous stride down the aisle, the Tag Titles gleaming around their waists as the champs slap a few hands on their way to the ring.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen! The following contest is scheduled for one fall! And is for the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first! At a combined weight of four hundred and thirty one pounds! They hail from the Bahamas and Las Vegas Nevada! THE SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, WILDCHILD AND JOHNNY DANGEROUS....WIIIIIIILD AND DAAAAAAAAAANGEROUS!"

 

Wildchild and Johnny slide under the bottom rope and into the ring, bypassing Funyon and Eddy Long to hit the corners for another huge pop from the fans. They jump back into the ring, turning and looking back towards the entranceway, absently unstrapping their belts from their waists. They're waiting for their opponents.

 

"Citizens Wildchild and Dangerous are looking ready as ever Robert."

 

"And they need to be Comet. You don't keep your title if you're not prepared to give it 110% in the ring. And that's exactly what these guys have done with every defense, tonight won't be any different."

 

Wild and Dangerous do not have long to wait, as a cloud of smoke boils out of the entranceway, with red lasers creating a mesh of light through the smoke as...

 

"LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!"

 

...Machine Head's "Davidian" blasts from the arena speakers! A huge pyrotechnic display explodes around the stage, as red strobe lights kick into life, the cheers of the fans increasing once again! The noise only gets louder as two huge silhouettes appear in the smoke, one in a white trenchcoat, the other in all black!

 

"And their opponents! At a combined weight of six hundred and seventy five pounds! They hail from Sydney Australia and Shrewsbury England! THE ANTI HEEL MACHINE, TERRENCE "JANUS" BAILEY! THE BLACK ANGEL, AECAS! THEY ARE THE UNHOOOOOOOLY TRIIIIIIIIINIIIIIIIITY!"

 

The smoke clears up just enough for the crowd to Aecas to lift his flick scythe into the air and extend the blade! This prompts another cheer from the crowd, as Terrence simply thrusts his arms into the air with a grim smile of sorts, before the two giants make their way down to the ring.

 

"And both teams have their work cut out for them tonight, wouldn't you say so Robert?"

 

"Perhaps Comet. But you're forgetting that Wildchild has defeated Janus in the past. He's proven that the bigger they are the harder they fall, and he's not going to be intimidated by these two, and neither is Johnny."

 

"Are you sure Robert? I thought the old saying was the bigger they are the harder they hit! Not to mention Citizen Bailey DID end Citizen Wildchild's Hardcore reign..."

 

As the commentators bicker with one another, the Black Angel and the Anti-Heel Machine move around the ring, slowly depositing scythe and trenchcoat respectively at the Timekeeper's table. They move towards the ring, Aecas jumping up onto the apron, as Terrence calmly ascends the stairs. Both men step through the ropes and into the ring, locking eyes with the champions as Eddy Long steps between the four combatants, raising the tag team titles above his head. The four men continues to stare at one another for a long moment, before Terrence and Johnny finally turn and step out onto the apron. This of course leaves the Black Angel and the Wildchild in the center of the ring, as Eddy long signals for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

"And here we go Robert! Citizen Aecas and Citizen Wildchild are going to start this match, a first for both men as they have never met in the ring before tonight!"

 

Aecas and Wildchild begin to circle one another as the ringing of the bell fades away, both men keeping the other in sight. Aecas moves with slow, sure steps, while the Bahama Bomber is quicker on his feet, almost sliding across the canvas as he surveys his large challenger. The buzzing excitement of the crowd grows louder as the Black Angel lunges at his opponent, trying to force the smaller man into a grappling situation. Wildchild easily avoids the lunge of his giant opponent, darting underneath his questing arms and flashing across the ring to rebound off of the ropes. He gains momentum and launches himself at his giant opponent, catching Aecas in the chest with a quick flying forearm, staggering the big man. As Aecas staggers backwards, Wildchild leaps back up to his feet, pressing the attack once again. Ducking under a huge lariat attempt, the Bahama Bomber hits the ropes once again, leaping back and sending the Black Angel staggering back with a huge leg lariat to the chest!

 

"Citizen Wildchild is starting this match with his usual fast pace, but he can't seem to knock Citizen Aecas down!"

 

"Just you watch Comet, size is no match for the kind of speed that Wildchild possesses. It's only a matter of time."

 

Riley's words are soon proven to be correct as the Crafty Carribean flips back up to his feet, before leaving them a mere second later. He sends both boots thudding into Aecas' right knee, and the Black Angel drops down to the other knee as his right leg is forcibly knocked from under him. Now that he's chopped his opponent down to size, Wildchild continues his assault, leaping into the air and snapping Aecas' head to one side with a vicious gamengiri! The blow sends his huge opponent to the canvas like a sack of bricks, and the Bahama Bomber dives on top of the Black Angel, hoping for an early cover.

 

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TW-KICKOUT!!

 

"A quick cover, and a quick kickout by Citizen Aecas!"

 

"See what I mean, Comet? Wildchild is just too quick for Aecas. Unfortunately, it's going to take more than a few kicks to the head to put Psycho #1 over there down for the three count."

 

Both men begin to get back to their feet, Wildchild popping up to his feet as Aecas starts to push himself back up. The Carribean Cruiser quickly moves to the ropes, climbing out onto the ring apron and grabbing the top rope as he watches the Black Angel begin to climb back to his vertical base. As Aecas straightens up once again, Wildchild uses the ropes to slingshot himself back into the ring, twisting his body as he attempts to crossbody the giant! This time, however, things do not go Wildchild's way! Aecas' arms shoot up to grab the Bahaman around the neck and right leg as he crashes into his broad chest, and the Black Angel uses the champion's momentum against him! He twists around and plants the Human Hurricane in the center of the ring with a huge powerslam, hooking Wildchild's right leg as he too tries for an early pinfall.

 

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TW-KICKOUT!!

 

"Citizen Wildchild wasn't quick enough on that one, Robert!"

 

"So what, Comet? You aren't going to beat Wildchild with just one move!"

 

Aecas is quick to get back up to his feet, dragging Wildchild up by his dreadlocks before he grabs arm of the Bahama Bomber, and irish whips him hard into the ropes. Wildchild rebounds from the cables, ducking under a huge big boot attempt and slapping palms with Johnny Dangerous a split second before he bounces off the ropes once again! He dropkicks Aecas in the knee, the giant letting out a bark of pain as the blow hits back of his knee this time, once more sending him down to one leg. The fans let out another cheer as the Dangerous One prepares to enter the fray, quickly climbing up to the tope rope! Johnny leaps off and catches Aecas in the back of the head with a hellish looking missile dropkick, and the hard blow sends the giant crashing face down to the canvas.

 

"And Citizens Wildchild and Dangerous are keeping the pace quick! They are taking Citizen Aecas apart piece by piece!"

 

"And that's exactly what they have to do, Comet. Keep him off his feet and wear him down, they need to keep this pace fast if they're going to defeat these two goofs."

 

Aecas is already beginning to push himself back up to his feet, trying to shake off the hard blows to the head and temple he just suffered. Unfortunately for the Black Angel, Johnny is poised and ready to take advantage, quickly moving around in front of Aecas and lashing out with his right foot! The stiff martial arts kick smack acrosss the pale chest of his opponent, and Johnny draws his foot back once again, measuring the Black Angel with another stiff kick to the chest.

 

"Johnny is trying to shred Aecas with his feet!"

 

"He shouldn't keep this up for too long, Robert! It may sting, but it's still giving Citizen Aecas time to recover!"

 

Johnny grins as he draws his foot back for a third time, the boot flashing in and smashing into Aecas' left side. It draws a grunt from the giant, but it also draws the Black Angel's massive left arm tight against his side, trapping the Dangerous One's leg against his body. Johnny's expression changes from one of triumph to one of horror, as Aecas' huge right hand slaps around his throat. The Black Angel quickly stands up, dragging Johnny with him by the leg and the neck, and he spins on one heel. His hand tightens around his opponent's throat before the Black Angel drops down, slamming Johnny back first into the hard bone of his knee!

 

"Chokebreaker by Citizen Aecas!"

 

Johnny spasms as his back meets the giant's knee, before he topples off of that precarious position back down to the canvas. Aecas doesn't allow the champion to rest for long however, quickly dragging him back up to his feet. A swift kick to the gut dispels any notion of resistance, as Aecas wraps his huge right arm around Johnny's head while his left hand grabs a handful of the Dangerous One's slacks. The Black Angel hauls his opponent off of his feet, holding the champion effortlessly above his head, forming a two-man tower. The Black Angel lets Johnny think about his situation for a moment, before he just drops him straight south, and CRATERS his head into the canvas with a sheer drop brainbuster! The crowd erupts as the two men hit the canvas, and Johnny sits back up again after the impact, a dazed expression on his face before he flops back down to the canvas. Aecas quickly covers the champion, as Eddy Long scurries over to count the pinfall.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

KICKOUT!!!

 

Dazed though he might be, Johnny still has enough wits about him to kick out a mere second after Long's palm slaps the canvas for two. Aecas quickly pulls the Barracuda back up to his feet, irish whipping the champion into the nearest corner, before charging in after him. The Dangerous One hits the turnbuckles hard, but still manages to get a boot up, stopping the Black Angel dead in his tracks with a hard boot to the head!

 

"Citizen Aecas is trying to take the fight to the champions, but Citizen Dangerous has got the drop on him again!"

 

"Like I said Comet, speed is going to be the decisive factor here. But Johnny needs to hit something big and he needs to do it fast!"

 

Johnny is doing just that, as the champion boosts himself up to sit on the top turnbuckle, wrapping his right arm around the head of the giant. Leaping away from the corner and twisting his body in mid-air, he tries to plant Aecas headfirst into the canvas with a tornado DDT! The Black Angel's arms grab Johnny firmly around the waist, and the big man plants the Dangerous One firmly back on his feet. Having avoided the DDT, Aecas quickly wraps his arms around Johnny's waist again, hauling him up into the air for a northern lights suplex. But unfortunately for the Black Angel his opponent doesn't go willingly, as the Barracuda tightens his arm around the giant's head, kicking his legs and fighting the suplex with all his might. Eventually gravity takes hold, and Aecas cannot keep his grip on the writhing champion, and so the Barracuda throws all his weight backwards! The momentum drags Aecas' head down as the Dangerous One finally completes the move, drilling the giant's head into the canvas with a monstrous DDT and rolling over him for another cover attempt!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....KICKOUT!!

 

"Citizen Aecas kicks out yet again, but the quick thinking and hard blows from Wild and Dangerous are definitely adding up, Robert!" Comet calls.

 

"All they need to do is keep this up and they've won it like that!" Riley exults.

 

Rubbing his back as he rolls to his feet, Johnny darts to his corner to slap hands with the Bahama Bomber! Wildchild leaps the top rope and enters the ring, helping his partner drag the Black Angel upright.Each taking an arm, Wild and Dangerous irish whip Aecas into the opposite ropes! Only Eddy Long notices the loud smack of flesh-on-flesh before Aecas rebounds, as both Johnny and Wildchild turn side on to the approaching Black Angel and slam superkicks into his jaw, flattening him to the mat with a Super Chicklet Buster! The crowd pops for the move, but then pops louder for the three hundred and sixty pound Australian stalking across the ring! The Dangerous One and the Human Hurricane turn around, the former falling victim to a Knuckle Bomb that sends him falling to the mat, and the latter finding himself lifted into the air and DRILLED down for a hard chokeslam!

 

"And Citizen Bailey makes his presence known in this match, Robert! He tagged his partner and is fresh and ready to take on his opponent!"

 

"Hah! Psycho #2 will fall just like Psycho #1, you just wait!"

 

Terrence drops to one knee after temporarily stunning Wild and Dangerous to check on his partner. Aecas clutches his jaw and nods to the concern of his companion, rolling out of the ring. The Anti-Heel Machine begins to rise to his vertical base, only to see boot as Wildchild flings himself into the air for a beautiful dropkick! Eddy Long ensures that Johnny Dangerous is out of the ring, as the Bahama Bomber hits the ropes and flies back, crashing into the rising Terrence's chest with his patented Pinball attack! The impact sends the big Australian reeling, and the Carribean Cruiser latches onto one huge arm to whip him across the ring, with not much success. Terrence simply stands his ground, and reverses the whip, tossing Wildchild into the nearest set of turnbuckles with frightening ease. Immediatley, the Bahaman bounces forward out of the corner as to not be squashed, and runs straight into a hard boot to the head! The Anti-Heel Machine follows with a huge legdrop to the small man's chest, and then drags Wildchild back to his feet once more.

 

Hoisting his opponent above his head like so much dead weight, Terrence pumps his arms for a gorilla press, only to feel him sliding from his grasp. Swinging himself around and locking his legs around the big Australian's neck, Wildchild falls back and slightly to the side for a hurricanrana! But the Anti-Heel Machine is fresh and wary, arms snapping out to catch the Bahama Bomber as he drops into a vicious sitout powerbomb! Rather than hold the pin attempt, Terrence knows he has to put Wildchild down with something hard, and drags the Carribean Cruiser upright before dragging him to the ropes near the Trinity corner. He shouts something at Aecas and then throws Wildchild towards the opposite ropes and crouches, charging after the smallest man in the match with shoulder lowered! Terrence looks for the Gore, but showing his true style and grace despite the pain in his body, the Bahaman hits the ropes and comes back, lithely doing a front flip over the charging behemoth! But as he races back across the ring, the contingency was planned for...

 

..as he runs straight into a waiting Black Angel, who hoists the Wildchild into the air, turns to the side, and PLANTS him down with a painful looking spinebuster! Without hesitating, Terrence straightens rebounds off the ropes and charges back at his fallen opponent and partner. Aecas smiles grimly as he ducks slightly, scooping Terrence off his feet...AND DROPPING THE THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY POUND ANTI-HEEL MACHINE ON WILDCHILD WITH A FLAPJACK! The crowd roars in surprise and sympathetic pain, as Wildchild barely moves under the heavy impact.

 

"Oh my GOODNESS, Robert! The Unholy Trinity may have turned this match around with Citizen Bailey's attack and that incredible double team!"

 

"My ribs are hurting just from SEEING that, Comet. I think they crushed Wildchild flat!"

 

Eddy Long drops down for the count, as the Anti-Heel Machine hooks one leg just in case.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....THREEEEEESAVED!!

 

The Barracuda races across the ring, dropping an elbow across the back of Terrence's head to break up the pin! It serves its distracting purpose and the big Australian rises, turning towards the Dangerous One. Johnny shows no fear whatsoever, and begins laying hard chops into Terrence's chest! The Anti-Heel Machine rears his arm back for a Knuckle Bomb, but the suave secret agent steps to the side and hooks the arm. Before he can do anything however, a huge knee slams into his stomach, an arm wraps around his head, and Johnny Dangerous finds his skull planted into the canvas with the Everdream implant DDT! The crowd roars as Terrence rises to his feet and lifts his arms into the air with a grin on his face.

 

"In the space of just a few minutes, Citizen Bailey has completely turned this match towards the Unholy Trinity's favour! Together with Citizen Aecas he's pulverised Citizen Wildchild's ribs, and he just took down Citizen Dangerous!"

 

"Don't forget Wildchild IS the legal man here, Comet. Unless Bailey pins him, they don't have a chance of winning this match."

 

"Speaking of Citizen Wildchild, he's starting to get back up!"

 

Whether he heard the announcers or is alerted by the gruff voice of his partner, Terrence turns around to see Wildchild stumbling upright, clinging to the ropes for support. The big Australian steps forward to continue the punishment, and as he does, the Bahama Bomber falls to the mat again with a drop toe hold! The Anti-Heel Machine topples forward into the ropes and bounces back to his feet, holding his throat as he stumbles back and turns around...straight into a Johnny Kick by the Dangerous One! The secret agent falls right back down, holding his head after the move, and makes his way back to his corner under Eddy Long's watchful eye. But even that isn't enough to put Terrence down, as he wavers under the impact before turning around once more...

 

...and the aching Wildchild connects with a gamengiri! The blow finally overbalances the Anti-Heel Machine, who topples to the mat with all the grace of a falling tree. The crowd cheers for the comeback by the plucky Carribean Cruiser, and only scrambling away from the ropes saves Wildchild from retribution at Aecas' hands. Clutching his ribs, the Bahama Bomber stumbles across the ring, slumping in his team's turnbuckle and taking a breather as he and Johnny discuss tactics once more. This ends with the Barracuda slapping his partner's shoulder and climbing in the ring as Terrence slowly sits up, rubbing his face. Johnny Dangerous takes a deep breath and hits the ropes as the behemoth begins to rise and turn around, leaping into the air and extending a leg for a deadly flying side kick! The Australian goes reeling across the ring, slamming straight into Aecas as the blow connects flush with his forehead. The Black Angel grunts and climbs into the ring when Long signals a tag, as Terrence slumps almost dazedly against the ropes.

 

"An incredible comeback to the fresh Anti-Heel Machine, Robert! Collective blows to the skull culminating in that rarely seen flying kick by Citizen Dangerous! He might have scrambled Citizen Bailey's brains with that!" Comet yells.

 

"Which may not be a good idea, with his brain already scrambled enough." Rily mutters as Terrence finally takes up a position on the apron, clutching his head before glaring across at Johnny with a look that promises death.

 

But he's no longer the legal man, and must stew on the apron while the Black Angel and the Dangerous One circle each other carefully once more. The staredown is almost creepy, at least until Johnny takes the first move by swinging around for a spinning heel kick! The kick cracks into Aecas' chest, but the big man simply fires back with a huge chop that sends Johnny reeling. A second chop follows, and a third, and the Barracuda finds himself flung across the ring. As he comes back, the Black Angel hoists him up for a powerbomb, but Johnny fires some hard punches into the dome of his opponent, before falling back with a hurricanrana! But Aecas holds on, dangling the Barracuda ominously between his legs. The crowd begins to chant for the Executioner, but before anything can happen...the Bahama Bomber comes soaring off the top rope behind the Black Angel, throwing all his force into an elbow to the back of the neck!

 

Aecas goes stumbling forward, letting Johnny fall in a heap to the ground, clutching his neck. Wildchild rolls away while holding his ribs, and the Dangerous One sighs in relief. A call from his partner makes Johnny look up, as Wildchild slaps the top rope and mimes something. The Barracuda gets the message and scrambles up to slap hands with his partner before turning around. Instead of Aecas, he finds a tagged in, positively furious seven foot two monster charging like an angry bull! But the courageous secret agent sets himself, lifting the Australian into the air with a back body drop...and straight into the Carribean Cruiser's flying forearm smash! The big man goes crashing to the mat with the body of the Wildchild atop his!

 

"Wild and Dangerous just nailed the psychopath with the Silver Bullet! This match is over, Comet!"

 

"Maybe, maybe not! We'll see, Robert!"

 

Eddy Long is there for the count!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

.....

*CRUNCH!*

 

Wildchild suddenly screams, stopping the count! At the same time, the big Australian sits up, his arms wrapped around the Bahaman Bomber's own arms and ribcage! A furious look on his face, the Hell Machine struggles upright, shaking Wildchild in his grasp. With the deadly and properly named Hell Crush locked in on him, the Carribean Cruiser screams for his partner to help him out. Eddy Long asks the cruiserweight if he wants to give up, and he shakes his head despite the clear pain written across his face! The snarl on Janus' face completes the thought running through everyone's head, and the response is a mixture of boos and cheers.

 

"That's not Citizen Bailey! Citizen Janus must be furious after that blow from Johnny earlier, and now he's taking it out on Citizen Wildchild!" Comet yells.

 

"Get that nutjob out of the ring! He'll KILL Wildchild, dammit!" Riley calls.

 

"The match is still in progress, Robert! And the two legal man are right there!"

 

"Johnny! Hurry! Save the day!" Riley urges.

 

Hearing his partner's screams, Johnny lifts himself from the canvas to see the back of the Hell Machine a short distance away. The Barracuda steps forward, shifting his stance slightly in preparation for a Johnny Kick to the back of Janus' head. Unfortunately for him, no-one is there to stop the Black Angel from coming into the ring. The Dangerous One senses the ominous presence behind him, and it's at this point his monsterous opponent acts. Aecas steps up, hooking his arms around Johnny's body and hoisting him up into pumphandle position, turning the secret agent upside down and promptly sitting out and killing him dead with the Black Death Driver!

 

"Oh my god! Johnny's out of it! The other psycho just killed him dead!" Riley gibbers.

 

"And with the rarely seen Black Death Driver no less! Citizen Aecas has just pulverised Wild and Dangerous' only hope of survival!"

 

Comet's words ring true indeed, as in the Hell Machine's grasp, the agonised Wildchild has stopped moving entirely. His lifeless body hangs from Janus' arms, and Eddy Long asks for an arm to be freed. The big Australian shifts his grip and the referee lifts the Bahama Bomber's arm up once for everyone to see, and lets it drop. He lifts it up yet again, and it drops once more. The crowd holds its collective breath as the arm goes up a third time...some fans willing Wildchild to come to life, others hoping the berserk Australian has done it, and... THE ARM DROPS!

 

*DING DING DING!!*

 

"NEW CHAMPIONS!" Comet roars.

 

"Nooooooo!" Riley wails.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your winners, and NEW Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Tag Team Champions! THE ANTI-HEEL MACHINE TERRRRRRENCE 'JANUS' BAILEY AND THE BLACK ANGEL AECAS! THE UNNHOOOOOLLLLY TRINIIIIITY!"

 

"LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!"

 

As Machine Head's "Davidian" roars forth from the speakers, the hulking Hell Machine drops Wildchild's dead weight to the canvas. He turns around to stare darkly at the rising Black Angel, who stares back at him grimly. And then the bigger man relaxes slightly, releasing his anger, calming down. Carefully, Eddy Long slides back into the ring with the tag team belts in hand, holding them out. Aecas takes one belt, and after a pause, Terrence Bailey takes the other. He stares almost regretfully at the gold, and then he and Aecas thrust the belts into the air to a resounding cheer!

 

"The Trinity have overcome all obstacles, and taken the titles from the reigning champions!" Comet calls.

 

"With a little 'help' from that whackjob's other personality." Riley mutters.

 

Aecas rolls out of the ring with the belt slung over his shoulder, walking to the announce table. He puts the flick scythe over his shoulder and tucks Terrence's folded trenchcoat under his arm, walking around the ring. Within, Terrence kneels by Wildchild, belt over his shoulder, checking the Bahaman's pulse and touching his ribs. Satisfied he hasn't done lasting damage, he rolls out of the ring as well. As Wild and Dangerous begin to recover from their crushing defeat, the Unholy Duo of Aecas and Terrence stand on the ramp, with "Davidian" roaring in the background. The camera pans back to the announce table, where Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley continue to sit.

 

"It was an upset indeed Robert, but what a night for the Trinity. And later tonight, their leader takes on Citizen Clark in a Window Pain match!"

 

"AND there's Landon Maddix crushing Grappler for the World Title."

 

"We'll see, Robert, we'll see."

 

The camera focuses on the grimacing Wildchild, who clutches his ribs and is slowly returning to consciousness, before fading out to commercial.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The Wachovia Center in Philadelphia explodes as SWF Lockdown: The Hardcore Edition returns from a commercial for Home Depot featuring “Coyote” Coy West (“Yep, I’m lookin’ to build me a retirement shack, and my first idea was to come here, to Home Depot, where the folks’ll treat you just like home”). Blue and white Superior One rugby shirts dot the crowd as the camera pans the audience. Some fans, as always, have signs – “Unnamed = Untouchable,” “I Have A Superiority Complex” and “Annie Whacked Uncle Pussy” among them. Way in the back, a student wearing a Drexel letter jacket holds up a solitary “I Mark For Mak” sign. Finally, the camera settles on the commentary table, where Bobby Riley is looking unusually frazzled.

 

“Comet, the suspense is killing me,” he says, looking over his shoulder for half a second.

 

“What’s that, Robert?”

 

“Oh, like you don’t know.” Riley’s head swivels again, looking in all directions. “This is Hardcore night! Any minute now, someone’s going to come barreling out from the back and break this table – and THEN what are we gonna do?”

 

Comet rolls his eyes. “Oh, come now. They usually don’t decide to do that until the last match of the night. It’s one of those unwritten rules.”

 

“What, like how the wrestlers always seem to be in position for the big aerial move?That one hasn’t been working lately either!”

 

“Oh well. If you’re afraid of impact, Robert, you’re going to be in trouble during the next match. Returning superstar Tom Flesher has just come back from a month-long vacation that reinvigorated not only his wrestling ability but his desire for the SWF World Championship. Ann Onita, on the other hand, has come back from one of her frequent tours of Japan with a new lease on life, as well as her sister in a non-wrestling capacity.”

 

“Tell me about it! Hubba hubba!” Riley drools.

 

“Allison is no slouch in the ring, for despite a lengthy losing streak when she replaced her sister in the Lady Red outfit during the Clan’s heyday, she has proven more than capable and willing to interject herself between the two competitors.”

 

“I’ll tell you what, I want to interject myself between –”

 

“Methinks the play-by-play man doth protest too much,” deadpans Comet. “And with that, I’ll bite my thumb at Bobby Riley and send this one up to Funyon.”

 

Funyon, sure enough, is in the ring with the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, “the following match, conducted under the standard hardcore non-rules, is scheduled for one fall! First, making her way to the ring…”

 

As the slow intro of "Risky Gamble" by Megumi Hayashibara begins to play, a suit-clad Ann appears on the SmarkTron, shown sideways with her hand extended like a gun. The fans pop for the Eclectic One as the video teases her arrival. The viewpoint rotates until the shot is dead straight with Ann's finger. The song kicks into high gear just as she ‘shoots,’ prompting a blue pyrotechnic explosion on the entrance ramp. The fans cheer even louder, and after a moment, Onita walks out with cigar in hand, her sister following behind her. Ann walks slowly, using a kendo sword as a mock cane. Allison, meanwhile, stays back and flirts with some of the fans before jogging to catch up with her sister.

 

“And here we have one of the premier athletes in the SWF today,” shills Comet, “Ann Onita. She’s gone through many incarnations over the years, but here she is tonight, facing off against another top athlete, both contenders for the World Championship.”

 

“These two have a little history, too,” says Riley. “Flesher’s beaten Annie a lot in the past, most notably for his first United States Championship. And, of course, tonight’s not going to be any different as long as that sweet piece of ass keeps it outside.”

 

“Flesher stands to gain nothing by fighting on the concrete,” says Comet.

 

“I meant Allison, you lycra-wearing loon!”

 

“I know what I know.”

 

“Accompanied to the ring by her sister, Allison… from Tokyo, Japan, and weighing in tonight at 175 pounds, Ann…”

 

The crowd shouts “ICHIBAN!” in unison.

 

“Oniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiita!” The crowd cheers once again as Ann climbs the stairs and enters the ring. She hands her fedora out to Allison, who leans against the apron watching the action. Soon, “Risky Gamble” fades out, leaving the arena silent.

 

The lights dim, and for a moment, everything is quiet. Then, as the SmarkTron lights up, and the guitars begin to vibrate through the arena, the fans leap to their feet! 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, thrilled to be in attendance for another chapter in the Flesher-Onita rivalry! As the smoke clears from the entrance, the Superior One steps out from behind the curtain, prompting another huge pop from the Philly crowd. He stands on the platform in his warm-up suit, folding his arms across his chest and smirking in a self-satisfied manner. He stands there for a few seconds, and is rewarded with a spraying backdrop of white pyro that reduces him to a silhouette. He continues walking, looking a little looser than usual.

 

“Citizen Flesher seems to have relaxed quite a bit since last week,” says Comet.

 

“Yeah,” says Riley. “He really had a bug up his ass about not making weight for the Cruiserweight match, but it looks like the lack of a weight limit tonight is leaving him in good shape and spirits. Or, as they say in the locker room, he’s fat and happy.”

 

“Her opponent, from Buffalo, New York and weighing in tonight at 232 pounds, he is the Superior One, he is TOM… FLESHER!!!!!!!!!”

 

The crowd applauds as Flesher struts to the ring, meeting Allison Onita at the end of the aisle. The smaller of the Onita sisters flashes a bright grin at Flesher and playfully tips her sister’s hat, but Flesher ignores her totally as he climbs the stairs.

 

“Allison Onita, perhaps testing Flesher to see if he’ll be easy to distract later in the match,” says Comet. “Flesher seems to have his horse blinders on, though.”

 

He enters the ring, and referee Matthew Kivell allows Flesher time to strip his warm-up off and quickly stretch out. Onita stands in the middle of the ring, leaning her kendo stick in the corner. When Flesher walks to the center to meet her, Kivell calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

“And Flesher and Onita come out swinging!” says Riley, as Ann opens the action with a stiff knife-edge chop! The crowd lets loose with a “Whoo!” as Flesher responds with a stiff palm strike! Annie staggers back, caught off-guard by the strike, but answers Flesher with another stiff chop! (“Whoo!”) Flesher throws another palm strike, but Onita dodges it and counters with a kick to the stomach! Stunned, Flesher doubles over, but is quickly knocked back into place when Ann throws a knee into his face! Flesher steps back, and as the crowd applauds, Allison Onita is shown on the outside cheering her sister on.

 

“Ann Onita, of course, has a strong martial-arts background,” says Comet, “while Flesher has Greco-Roman training. Thus, Onita will come out stronger in these striking battles, whereas Flesher, of course, will take the lead once he gains control of the match and secures a bodylock.”

 

“Ha! Getting his clock cleaned by a girl!” Riley snickers. “What kind of wrestler is that?”

 

“Onita, of course, has amassed quite a good record against strong competition here in the SWF, although she has yet to defeat her opponent for tonight. If she continues in this fashion, though, she may end up notching that elusive check in the W column against the former World Champion.”

 

Ann spins around, nailing Flesher in the left biceps with a roundhouse kick. Flesher takes another step back, and suddenly finds himself in the corner. He throws a palm strike, trying to fight his way out, but takes a chop to the neck for his trouble. She looks him over and backs away, measuring up for an attack… only to have Flesher charge into her and nail her in the hips with a blast double leg takedown! The crowd cheers as Ann spills to the mat. Flesher climbs up her body, keeping a tight lock to avoid getting caught or having her escape, and slams her in the face with a palm blow. Onita’s head snaps back and, with her momentarily stunned, Flesher makes the cover!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

NO!

 

“Ann Onita kicks out,” says Comet. “No matter how strong Flesher’s strikes are – or Onita’s, for that matter – these two know each other well enough and are so tough that one blow isn’t going to put them out of commission. I wouldn’t be at all surprised, though, to see this match go long and have it end with a strike. Both competitors are talented strikers, though Onita has a decided edge.”

 

Flesher stands up, holding Onita by her left arm and pulling her back up with him. As she backs away, he takes advantage of the unprotected space by unleashing a sickening kick to her ribs! Onita backs away, holding her ribcage, only to eat a backhand! She looks up, and with the crowd applauding, sees Flesher standing back, arms folded across his chest, a smirk on his face. Ann’s face twists into a scowl, but before she can react, Flesher slams a knee into her stomach and she doubles over. He quickly snags her by the head and pulls her into a front headlock! Onita drives into him, trying to push him to the ropes, but he quickly sprawls to the mat and takes her down with him. In bad position, she tries to fight her way out, but Flesher interrupts her with a knee strike to the head! This draws cheers from the bloodthirsty Philly crowd.

 

“Listen to that!” says Riley. “They’re watching Flesher and Onita beat the crap out of each other and loving every second! I don’t think they’d even cheer this loud if Mak Francis ran in!”

 

“Each wrestler does appeal to a certain element of the crowd,” agrees Comet, “and so you’re bound to hear cheers no matter who hammers who.”

 

Flesher whacks Onita with a second knee strike, then follows up with a third. She stops struggling for a moment, and Flesher quickly threads one arm under hers. He pivots to the side, rolling her to her back with the Cement Job! Matthew Kivell counts

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

NO! Ann gets a shoulder up and shifts her weight, rolling Flesher back to his knees. She can’t, however, break the front headlock, and so when Flesher stands up and lifts her off the mat, she has no choice but to follow. He tries to jack her up for the Cement Mixer, but forgets one important thing:

 

In a hardcore match, no one can hear you scream in falsetto.

 

“What a low blow!” shouts Riley as Flesher releases Onita and bends over, protecting the boys from further harm. “That’s just not fair! Ann Onita has no experience with balls – and I mean NONE – and it’s not even close to just to let her do that!”

 

“Ann Onita did indeed engage in some unethical treatment of testicles,” agrees Comet, “but Flesher knew the job was dangerous when he took it, and he knew that such treatment was within the letter and spirit of the law. This is, after all, a hardcore match.”

 

Onita backs away, taking a few seconds to breathe after being stuck in a headlock for such a long time. Flesher stands up slowly, still not in good shape, and Ann catches him in the face with a Drop Kiss! He stumbles backwards, and just as he regains his footing, she nails him in the face with a leaping kick! With the Superior One stunned, Ann grabs him by the wrist and whips him to a neutral corner. Then, as he slouches against the turnbuckles, she backflips across the canvas and jumps off the mat, slamming into him with a handspring elbow! The crowd bursts into cheers as Annie steps out of the corner. Flesher lurches forward one step, then a second, and falls flat on his face, prompting an even bigger pop! Annie drops onto Flesher and rolls him onto his back, covering him for

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!! Flesher kicks out and rolls away, even as Onita chases him down. As he tries to get to his feet, she nails him with a Drop Kiss that puts him back on the mat! Ann gets back to her feet and quickly throws another dropkick, this one catching Flesher in the left shoulder! Flesher rolls away holding his arm, clearly not feeling good, but Onita stays in control.

 

“Ann Onita stays on Flesher like ugly on Bobby Riley,” says Cyclone Comet as Flesher starts to get to his feet but is quickly nailed with a chop to the chest. “She knows that she’s in better shape than he is tonight, and she’s trying to keep the pressure on.”

 

“Ye-eah, I’ll keep the pressure on!” snickers Riley.

 

“Seriously, Bob, you’re trying too hard.”

 

Ann grabs Flesher by the arm and whips him across the ring. He bounces off the ropes, but before Onita can attack him, he counters with a baseball slide dropkick that takes Ann’s knee out from under her! She collapses, and Flesher rolls away, backing up a few steps as she starts to stand. Once she gets to her feet, Flesher barrels at her and hammers her in the face with a Yakuza kick! The fans burst into cheers as Onita crumbles into a heap on the mat, while Flesher lazily covers her. Kivell counts

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!! Ann Onita kicks out, though she’s clearly dazed. On the outside, Allison pounds the apron, trying to cheer her sister on. Flesher grabs Onita by the arm and lifts her to her feet, even as Allison leads the fans in a rousing chant of “I-CHI-BAN! I-CHI-BAN!” Flesher ignores the chant and spins behind the dazed Hardcore Queen, hooking her arms behind her in a double chickenwing! Suddenly, the Flesher partisans in the crowd burst into cheers!

 

“And Flesher’s going for the Unprettier!” shouts Riley. “He hasn’t used it in ages, but that was the one move that could always put Annie on her back!”

 

Flesher tries to twist around to put Ann in position to have her face driven into the mat, but the Smooth Criminal struggles to escape! Flesher fights to complete the turn, but Annie backs into him to take away the space he needs to turn. As he tries to back away to get into position, Ann breaks his double chickenwing lock and swings his left arm over her shoulder! The crowd screams its approval as she quickly snaps his arm over her shoulder, and he cries out in pain! She yanks his arm again, and once again Flesher cries out. Allison Onita, rallying the troops for her sister, hops onto the apron across the ring and continues leading the crowd. Ann kicks back, driving a heel into Flesher’s stomach. As he doubles over, she spins and steps over the arm. Then, she bends down, releases the arm and nails him in the face with a heel kick! He snaps back to a standing position, and Ann spins back around, briefly pausing to pose for the cheering crowd! Allison golf-claps, and Ann playfully bows.

 

“There’s a bit of the old Annie Eclectic,” says Cyclone Comet. “She was formerly a much… shall we say… odder person. She did, after all, coin the versatile interjection, ‘blargledyargle,’ and God knows that anyone who’d use Linux and admit it in public can’t be terribly stable.”

 

“Also, she f***ed Chris Wilson.”

 

“Robert!” shouts Comet indignantly. “This is a family show, and we can’t have that sort of language going out over our airwaves.”

 

“Yeesh, quit flipping out, Comet.”

 

As Flesher stands, dazed, Ann Onita ducks behind him. She reaches up, threading her left arm under his. Then, she reaches up and locks on a crossface, securing her deadly crossface chickenwing! Flesher tries to escape, but Ann controls him by increasing the pressure on his tender left arm. Quickly, she steps in and arches her back, throwing Flesher head and shoulders first to the mat with a devastating Millennium suplex! The fans, and Allison, burst into cheers as Ann releases the grip and lets the former World Champion roll pathetically to his stomach! She stands up and pumps her fist, prompting an even more violent reaction from the fans! As Allison continues whipping the fans into a cheering frenzy, Ann drops down and rolls Flesher to his back. Matthew Kivell drops to the mat and counts

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE- NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The crowd lets out a disappointed groan as Tom Flesher shoots a shoulder off the mat. Ann Onita kneels and leans back, holding her head in shock and disappointment as Flesher sits up and tries to shake off the impact of the blow. Ann gets to her feet and looks around the ring. Sitting in the corner, she sees her kendo stick.

 

“This is a hardcore match,” says Comet, “and Ann Onita is willing to take full advantage of that. The two contenders have been keeping things fairly clean up to this point, but now Ann Onita is going to take the law into her hands.”

 

“She’s going to play judge, jury and executioner with that thing if Flesher doesn’t get to his feet pretty quickly,” says Riley. “… but at least they’re not back here fighting around the table.”

 

Flesher gets up and staggers toward the turnbuckles, not knowing what’s going on but realizing that he needs something to lean on. He looks across the ring and sees Ann Onita brandishing the deadly kendo stick. She charges at him, priming the bamboo sword to come down flush on top of his head. His eyes widen to roughly the size of two dinner plates as she gets closer and closer, until finally she swings the stick! At the last second, though, he drops to his knees, and the kendo sword hits only the turnbuckles and cornerpost! The Flesher holdouts applaud as Tom narrowly avoids a clearly match-ending strike, and continue cheering as he adeptly picks Ann’s ankle off the mat. He stands up and trips his opponent, putting her on the mat. She keeps her hold on the kendo stick, though, and uses it to bop him lightly on the head. Flesher releases her and backs away. Ann, seeing that at this point the kendo sword is causing more trouble than it’s worth, tosses it to the side.

 

“Onita didn’t get a good deal of arc on that swing,” says Comet, “and so it wasn’t nearly as devastating as it could have been. As it was, she managed to connect only with a gentle whack, so while Flesher was indeed stunned, he’s not going out on a stretcher like he would have.”

 

“They better keep the stretcher around, though,” replies Riley nonchalantly. “Hopefully it’s a double-wide so they can get both Onita sisters in one run after Flesher finishes the job.”

 

“Oh, my, it looks like you’re spot-on,” deadpans Comet. “Why, just look at the havoc Tom Flesher is inflicting on the Onita girls. It’s a miracle they’re surviving.”

 

As Flesher shakes off some of the impact, Ann Onita grabs him by the wrist. She pivots, trying to whip him to the ropes, but he plants his feet. He turns around, reversing the motion of the whip, but she re-reverses! With his weight already committed to the whip, Flesher can’t plant his feet and ends up sprinting toward the ropes, where Allison stands! As he approaches, she grasps the top cable with both hands and jumps off the apron! Flesher goes spilling to the outside, landing badly and laying in a heap on the concrete. Ann pauses to give her sister a thumbs-up, prompting a pop from the crowd. Then, she walks to the ropes and steps through, standing on the apron with her back to the crowd and to Flesher. Allison Onita backs away, avoiding getting involved while Matthew Kivell is actually paying attention. Flesher starts to get to his feet slowly. As he straightens out, Allison shouts, “GO!” With that, Ann jumps up and plants her feet on the middle rope. She springs off and arches back, moonsaulting to the outside where she hits Flesher with incredible force! The fans stand up and applaud as Matthew Kivell counts the pin!

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE – NO!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up, not convincingly by any means.

 

“Quebrrrrrrrada from Ann Onita!” says Cyclone Comet, rolling his R dutifully. “We rarely see that out of her, as she prefers to use the lionsault to the inside instead, but it’s certainly a devastating maneuver.”

 

“If it’s so devastating, how come Flesher’s getting off his back? Spot that one, Gazoo.”

 

Ann stands up, shaking her head in disbelief. She looks over at Allison, who seems to have at least a bottle of No-Doz in her as she cheers Ann on.

 

“Will you look at that?” says Riley. “She’s like a walking pep rally, you know that? A walking Asian lesbian pep rally.”

 

Ann, seemingly taking encouragement from her sister, reaches down and grabs Flesher by his ears. She lifts him to his feet, but he is largely unable to resist thanks to the beating he’s taken over the past few minutes. She hoists him off the ground and ducks down, lifting him into a fireman’s carry! The crowd applauds as Allison pulls the protective padding off of the concrete floor, and Ann repositions herself so that the Death Valley Driver will send Flesher headfirst onto the concrete! This draws cheers from the crowd, although in the interim, Flesher begins to wriggle around on her shoulders. She moves around, trying to readjust her balance so that she can keep him on her shoulders, but before she knows what’s happened, Flesher has slid down her back and is standing behind her with his hands locked! He drives her forward, repositioning her. Ann tries to drop to the floor to avoid Flesher’s deadly German, but he’s simply too strong for her! He hoists her off the protective matting using his sheer brute strength and arches backward, releasing her at the height of the arc! He throws her so hard that she flips as she goes through the air, and finally comes to rest on her stomach on the exposed concrete! Flesher gets up and shakes his arm out, the strength having come at the expense of his already-injured left arm. He staggers toward Ann… but drops to his knees and collapses.

 

“Flesher finds one last ounce of strength to counter the DVD,” says Comet. “In this case, those letters clearly would have spelled ‘the End’ for Tom Flesher tonight, but through his sheer testicular fortitude the Superior One is able to survive for another round.”

 

“And holy crap, did that German take a lot out of both competitors,” says Riley as Flesher starts to get up again. Clearly not at top strength, Flesher gets to his feet as Allison tries to attend to the obviously stunned Ann Onita. Flesher ambles toward the timekeeper’s table, where he grabs Funyon by the shoulder and shoves him off his chair. The crowd applauds as Flesher grabs the chair and folds it up, then carries it with a purpose toward the Onita sisters. As he does, Allison Onita blocks his way, trying to protect her injured sister. Flesher lifts the chair and shouts, “Out of the way!” Allison, though, stands up to him… and promptly takes a steel chair to the head!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Tom Flesher hits Allison Onita with a steel chair,” says Comet. “The crowd is… more or less uniformly condemning it, although I can’t say I blame Flesher for doing it. While I would never condone wanton violence, especially toward women, Allison Onita is…”

 

“She’s a god damn jezebel,” says Riley, “and she shouldn’t be involved in men’s sports!”

 

Comet coughs. “I was going to say that Allison Onita is a trained professional wrestler, and she was standing up to Flesher to keep him from getting to his opponent for the night. While it wasn’t necessarily a good thing to do, perhaps Flesher can be excused for acting in the heat of the moment.”

 

Allison Onita collapses to the protective matting, but Flesher shrugs her very presence off. He tosses the chair to the side, seeing that Annie still isn’t moving. He drops into a squat, reaching under her hips and trying to grab her for a waistlock. The crowd noise reduces from uniform booing to an interested murmur, perhaps indicating that the fans aren’t willing to write Flesher off as an evil bastard quite yet. He grabs Ann by the waist and stands up, locking his hands for the Ego Buster! Ann suddenly begins to struggle, her eyes flying open!

 

“Ann Onita was playing possum!” shouts Riley angrily. “That horrible woman was pretending the whole time, just like they fake everything else!”

 

Comet coughs.

 

“… I’m told,” says Riley sheepishly.

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised you’re claiming any experience,” says Comet.

 

Onita fights, kicking her legs and leaning toward Flesher’s tender left arm, doing anything she can to get him to break his grip. She reaches down and grabs his locked hands with hoth of hers, peeling the fingers apart. Flesher decides to cut his losses and puts her back down, but not before she grabs a two-handed wristlock on his left hand! She stands up, twisting the arm and ending up behind Flesher with a hammerlock! The fans begin to scream as she quickly transitions to a chickenwing, and then reaches up to grab him with a crossface!

 

“Ann Onita is going for the Millennium Suplex!” shouts Comet hoarsely. “This must be it! This is going to be the end! He can’t take the impact! His arm can’t take the stress!”

 

“He’ll never submit!” scoffs Riley.

 

“He’ll pass out!” screams Comet!

 

Flesher shoots a hand up to the crossface, peeling it off his jaw to try to delay the suplex. He lets his left arm go limp as he pulls the crossface off and then extends his left arm. With the arm now rigid, Flesher executes a lightning-fast amateur-style switch, ending up behind Annie with her left arm hooked! Before she realizes what’s happening, he hooks her right arm and drives forward! Completely unprotected, Ann goes face-first into the steel cornerpost. The crowd gasps in collective as Flesher walks Ann to a spot near the ramp. He turns around, bending Annie over with both her arms hooked, and the Flesher fans begin cheering. He quickly kicks his legs out, driving Ann face-first onto the ramp with the Unprettier! He winces as he lands. He rolls away grimacing and holding his shoulder, but quickly regains enough composure to roll back to Ann, put her on her back and make the cover.

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

Flesher sits up, then painfully stands up. He shakes his shoulder gently as Matthew Kivell comes over and takes his left hand.

 

“Your winner,” says Funyon, “TOM FLESHER!!!!!!”

 

Kivell raises Flesher’s left arm, only to have the former World Champion recoil and pull the tender arm back to his body. He looks down at the unconscious Annie, and at her sister, starting to come around. Obviously in pain, Flesher turns around abruptly and walks out even as his music plays.

 

“And there we have a dominant, dominant win by Tom Flesher! Not only does he pick up the win, but he gets two for the price of one!”

 

“I wouldn’t call it ‘dominant,’” says Comet. “Flesher was in danger several times in the match. I’m also not sure that we can demonize him for his display against Allison Onita, as she was attempting to interfere in the match, albeit legally. It also bears repeating that Allison Onita is a trained professional wrestler and spent quite a long time competing here under the Lady Red guise.”

 

“In any case, he bashed some women, and that’s a-okay by me,” says Riley.

 

“This has certainly been a different Tom Flesher for the past two weeks,” Cyclone Comet says as Ann Onita starts to get to her feet. “Whether it’s a string of coincidental events or Flesher is just working harder to get back to the World Title remains to be seen, but I think we’re all looking forward to more hard-hitting matches tonight! Up next, Coy West takes on Stryke… and all night, Toxxic and Insane Luchador!”

 

The show fades to a commercial for this week’s new SWF Shopzone merchandise.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

Lockdown returns to the air, the Philly bloodmarks already salivating as the steel construction hanging over the ring begins to lower, signifying that the Steel Cage match for the USJL Title is only moments away!

 

Riley:“It’s a night of no-DQ all around, but now things are really going to pick up a notch as we add a Steel Cage to the mix! And even better, we get to see that fool “Coyote” Coy West suffer some severe blood loss inside it!”

 

Comet:“I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that the man Coy will be defending his USJL Title against is none other than an individual we thought was retired back at Clusterfuck, Stryke.”

 

Riley:“Stryke was the victim of a great injustice when he was forced to retire after being eliminated from Clusterfuck, but in wrestling being retired ‘forever’ seems to mean about 2 months, so Stryke’s here right on schedule. Now he’s back where he belongs, and I personally can’t wait for him to beat the mullet right off Coyote and put that United States belt around a deserving waist.”

 

The cage finally lowers in position, several ring crew members scurrying around ringside ensuring it’s secure as a HUGE wall of blue and silver pyrotechnics envelops the entranceway, Cypress Hill’s“How I Could Just Kill A Man” blasting over the sound system. The only thing louder than the pyro is the volume of the crowd’s boos, obviously none too happy to see a man they thought they were rid of, Stryke wasting no time in stepping out onto the stage and welcoming the wave of negativity.

 

Comet:“How exactly is Stryke able to be back here, with a title shot no less, when he made it perfectly clear if he lost Clusterfuck that he was gone FOREVER, with no comebacks?”

 

Riley:“How the hell would I know, stop pointing out plot holes. Lets just say a Wizard did it.”

 

Comet:“Works for me.”

 

Stryke moves down the ramp, his usual arrogant grin on his face as he ignores the hate of the crowd and focuses on the steel structure before him, taking a moment to shake the cage to see how strong it is before climbing through the door. Stryke moves across the ring and running up the opposite turnbuckles, raising his arms to the jeering crowd as Funyon begins the introductions.

 

Funyon:“Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is a CAGE MATCH to be contested under ESCAPE RULES, and is for the UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP!!! Entering first the challenger, making his return to the SWF, this is STRYKE!!!”

 

Stryke drops off the turnbuckle and casually leans back on the ropes, not bothered at all about the cage surrounding him as he awaits his opponent. And he doesn’t have to wait long, the crowd popping to their feet as one for the US Champion as Sara Evan’s“Perfect” hits the speakers, “Coyote” Coy West making his way to the ring…

 

…brandishing a RIFLE in his hands!

 

Riley:“What the hell is Coy doing?! This is a hardcore-themed night, but when they made everything no-DQ I don’t think they meant this! He’s crazy!”

 

Stryke’s eyes go wide as he sees the Coyote coming towards him with a hunting rifle in hand, immediately running to referee Kivell and ducking down behind him, using Kivell as a human shield in case Coy starts taking potshots. Neither he nor the SWF’s censors need to worry however, as hanging off the end of the rifle is a price tag, the NRA member looking to offload one of his many firearms to the crowd!

 

Funyon:“Now making his way to the ring, weighing in at 240lbs, from his RV currently located in the Wachovia Center parking lot, he is the DEFENDING USJL CHAMPION, this is“COYOTE” COY WEST!!!”

 

The crowd reaction is near-deafening, Stryke still cautiously holding Kivell between himself and the champ as Coy finds an interested buyer, handing over the rifle in exchange for a wad of cash, West pocketing it and turning his attention to the cage, still greeting the fans with a smile as he brushes back his mullet before stepping up into the cage.

 

Riley:“Oh great, giving a gun to one of these wackjob fans, I hope that things not loaded.”

 

Coy shows no signs of hesitation as he steps through the ropes to enter the cage, though that may have been a mistake as Stryke charges from behind Kivell, connecting with a hard forearm to the back as Coy’s still entering the ring!

 

*DING!*DING!*DING!*

 

Comet:“Well I see Stryke hasn’t changed a bit since leaving, cutting Coy off before he can even enter the ring.”

 

Riley:“He’s just taking advantage of an opportunity presented to him, that just shows how hungry he is for that belt tonight.”

 

Stryke continues the attack, pounding away with forearms on Coy as he drags him through the ropes into the ring, Kivell sidestepping them to lock the cage door as Stryke grabs a handful of West’s mullet and goes to hurl him face-first into the cage! BUT WAIT!The champ blocks it, planting his foot on the middle rope to stop his momentum and jarring the challenger right between the eyes with a sharp back elbow, Stryke stumbling back dazed. The Coyote keeps right on the Australian, pounding him with a flurry of right and left hands, before taking hold of his wrist and whipping him towards the ropes. Stryke rebounds back, but still has enough wits about him to duck underneath a Coy West lariat, Stryke picking up speed as he runs at the ropes and leaps up, grabbing hold of the steel mesh and climbing up as fast as he can, looking to escape the cage and win the title right away!

 

Riley:“You need to remember that this is escape rules, all the fancy moves in the world won’t mean jack if you can’t climb out, and with the speed advantage Stryke has he may just be able to outrun West and win the match!”

 

The crowd fires up in heavy boos as Stryke latches a hand on the top of the cage and starts to pull himself out, but Coy West isn’t about to lose in such embarrassing fashion, turning and climbing up the ropes after him, reaching up and grabbing onto Stryke’s leg! The Australian tries to kick the pesky redneck away, but the stronger Coy won’t let go, pulling Stryke back down until both men are standing on the top rope. Stryke and West balance perilously on the top rope, exchanging strikes as each man tries to send the other toppling to the mat below. Stryke lands a forearm to the face, Coy delivers a punch to the jaw, back and forth both men take shot after shot, the crowd noise increasing with each blow landed! True to his redneck nature Coy West has been in plenty of fights in his life and absorbs the blows with little more than a grimace on his face, while Stryke in the other hand is out on his feet, eyes glassy as his brain is rattled by one last Coy West punch. The crowd cheer excitedly as Stryke looks like falling, and Coy gives them what they want, taking hold of Stryke’s head and RAMMING his head into the side of the cage, the impact sending Stryke falling back and crashing to the canvas with a thud!

 

Comet:“And Stryke goes down! Stryke landed square on his back, perhaps West could try and escape here!”

 

Coy West, fighter that he is, isn’t satisfied with mere minutes of action, turning around and facing back into the ring to the cheers of the Philadelphia crowd. West takes a moment to look out into the teeming mass of fans, before leaping forward and extending his elbow, SLAMMING down on top of Stryke with a Top Rope Elbow Drop!!

 

Comet:“Nowhere else will you see a redneck take flight but the SWF! He may not be graceful but he certainly hits with plenty of impact, Coy West has Stryke in a world of hurt!”

 

Stryke yells out in pain as he alternates between clutching his chest for the elbow drop and his head after it being slammed into the cage. The Australian doesn’t get any rest however, Coy reaching down and pulling Stryke up in a headlock. The biceps of the Coyote squeeze with all their might on the head and Stryke, feeling like a searing headache, but things only get worse as Coy runs forward, jumping and coming crashing down to the mat with a Bulldog,Stryke’s cranium greeting the canvas in an unceremonious manner, and the crowd loves every second of it.

 

Comet:“Stryke tried to gain the advantage by attacking the champ as he entered the cage, but since then it’s been all Coy West, one must wonder what effects the ring rust of Stryke will have on this contest.”

 

Riley:“Bah, Stryke’s too good to be bothered by crap like ring rust. Let Coy have his fun now, but sooner or later West will slip up, and that’s when the real game begins.”

 

With Stryke writhing on the mat Coy pushes himself up, moving over to the nearest turnbuckle and starting to climb, moving up the turnbuckle and starting to scale the cage as he looks to escape the cage!

 

Riley:“Now it’s time too see if this filthy bastard can actually climb, by the time he makes it to the top the show might be over!”

 

Coy makes steady progress up to the top, but he’s hardly the quickest guy in the SWF, Stryke starting to rise as West nears the top. Coy turns and sees Stryke just getting to his feet, but just short of the top he’s left in a vulnerable position, and that’s just the opening Stryke needs. Stryke rushes over to the turnbuckle and leaps up, the boos flowing heavily as Stryke throws up arm up and connects hard with the lower nutsack region of Coy West, and making matters worse the pain loosens Coy’s grip on the cage and the US Champ falls down, crotching himself AGAIN on the top turnbuckle, the male members of the crowd all feeling that one!!

 

Riley:“Ouch, it’s a good thing Coy’s got kids already, because after that he’s not going to be breeding anymore.”

 

Comet:“Well it’s about the least honorable way to do it, but citizen Stryke has just put a halt to West’s momentum in a big way, this could be just the opportunity Stryke needs.”

 

Stryke drops back to the canvas, taking a moment to shake out the cobwebs before moving back towards Coy, the US champ nearly paralysed with groin-related pain. Unable to offer any resistance Stryke pulls West off the turnbuckle onto his shoulders, walking back to the middle of the ring with Coy in a fireman’s carry. The boos of the crowd only egg Stryke on, as he swings West out, spinning him around and dropping him face first over Stryke’s extended knee with a Facebuster! West staggers back holding his jaw, but Stryke keeps on him like a ravenous pitbull, again moving in and grabbing him by the back of the head. Stryke makes no mistake this time, running forward and HURLING Coy into the air, West crashing face first into the steel mesh with tremendous impact, the force sending West springing back across the ring as he writhes on the mat in pain!

 

Riley:“I love it, Coy’s going to have the imprint of the cage left on his face for days following that, Stryke just drilled him into the wall. It may be his first ever cage match, but Stryke’s certainly adapting to using it to his advantage quickly.”

 

West slowly crawls towards the ropes in an effort to pull himself up despite the pain shooting through his body, Stryke slowly stalking after him. West reaches the ropes but Stryke is right there, pushing West over the middle rope and choking the life out of him with it, Coy coughing and spluttering as his windpipe is cut off, Stryke smirking as the crowd boo their lungs out at the Australian’s tactics

 

Comet:“So far it seems Stryke is making the better use of the lack of rules for this contest, but I hope he doesn’t make the mistake of thinking West is finished, he has as much fight in him as anyone in the SWF today, he won’t go down without an almighty battle.”

 

Thinking he’s in full control of the match Stryke relents his choke, Coy on his hands and knees fighting for breath as the crowd begins to clap, a “LET’S GO COY!”chant starting up in a effort to get the champion back in the match. Stryke is eager to put a stop to any potential comebacks however, yanking Coy up by the head and bringing him to a standing position, nearly toying with his opponent as he wraps his arms around him, setting for a Belly-to-Belly Suplex. Stryke plants his feet and snaps back to execute the move, but the crowd’s spirits are instantly lifted as nothing happens, the Coyote refusing to budge! Stryke angrily tries a second time but again the heavier Coy spreads his weight and blocks the move, this time going to a simple but very effective headbutt, West’s skull clearly thicker than Stryke’s as the Australian is knocked loopy, Coy pausing for a second to absorb the effects of the blow before breaking out of Stryke’s loosened grip and locking his arms around Stryke instead. Stryke is still seeing stars from the headbutt as Coy pops his hips and lifts Stryke up, spinning around and PLANTING Stryke into the canvas with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex of his own!!

 

Comet:“And Coy West shows citizen Stryke just how it’s done! Stryke’s going to have to do a lot more damage before he’s going to be able to throw Coy around.”

 

The Coyote rises back up with a pained expression on his face from the punishment he’s taken, but the belly-to-belly suplex woke the crowd right back up, the raucous cheers and chants of “COYOTE!”giving West the motivation to push on as he moves around towards Stryke’s legs. Coy reaches down and picks up the leg of Stryke, a smile emerging on the champ’s face as the crowd explodes into cheers once more as they all know what’s coming.Stryke is helpless to fight back, and Coy takes full advantage, spinning around and dropping down across the leg of Stryke with the SPINNING TOE HOLD~! Stryke screams out in pain, but he draws little sympathy from the fans, too busy cheering as Coy rises back up, re-adjusting his hold of the leg before dropping down with another Spinning Toe Hold! Stryke yells out again in agony, slapping his hand to the mat as Coy works away on his leg.

 

Comet:“Looks like Stryke may be tapping out to the pain of the Spinning Toe Hold, Coy West is turning that move into a move to be feared.”

 

Riley:“First of all Stryke isn’t tapping, there’s no way he’s tap out to a friggin’ spinning toe hold. And secondly, even if he did tap, which he didn’t, the only way to win is by escaping so it doesn’t matter. Stryke will recover, I’m sure of it.”

 

West stands up and looks for a third spinning toe hold, but as he spins around Stryke gets his free leg up and pushes off, shoving Coy away to the ropes as Stryke rolls back up to his feet. West rebounds back, and Stryke tries to cut him off with a quickfire Superkick. With his leg hurting he can’t get full elevation though, allowing West to catch it before impact! Coy pulls Stryke in and lowers his head to lift Stryke onto his shoulders, before starting to spin around and around with the Airplane Spin! The crowd are up as one as West continues his spin and nears the side of the ring, using his momentum to launch Stryke off his shoulders, throwing the Australian right into the side of the cage!Stryke bounces off but somehow manages to land back on his feet, but the pain of hitting the cage and the dizziness from the airplane spin isn’t a good combination, Stryke only able to stagger a few steps before flopping face-first onto the canvas, and the crowd enjoys every second of it!

 

Comet:“Coy West is taking charge of this matchup, citizen Stryke’s been unable to string any offence together, and if that doesn’t change we’re looking at another successful title defence for Coy West!”

 

Stryke desperately tries to crawl forward, looking for any sort of salvation he can find, but West doesn’t let him get far, right there to drag him to his feet and push him into the nearest turnbuckles. Stryke is almost dead weight as Coy positions him in the corner, before the champ walks back to the opposite side of the ring, taking a moment to rest a little and regather his focus before turning back at Stryke, lining him up and charging back, leaping into the air as he looks to crush Stryke in the turnbuckles with a Leaping Lariat! Stryke knows he can’t take much more punishment though and so steps out to meet West, catching him on the rise and using Coy’s own momentum against him as he throws him overhead with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex, Coy sent careering back-first right into the turnbuckles and folding up on the mat like an accordian!!!

 

Riley:“YES! What a move from Stryke, a Belly-to Belly into the turnbuckles!He wasn’t able to hit it earlier, so this time he smartly uses Coy’s momentum to deliver the move, and all of a sudden this match has turned on its head!”

 

The boos once again resurface as Coy West is left in a heap in the corner, but Stryke is unable to follow up immediately, the Australian dropping back to his knees as he’s still feeling the effects of the damage Coy has done. Knowing he might not have many more chances Stryke blocks the pain out as best he can, pushing his tired body up and moving towards Coy, leaving the imprint of his boot on Coy’s chest as he delivers a HARD stomp, laying in the boots as he turns Coy into a seated position. The SWF’s premier redneck is still out of it as Stryke runs over to the opposite turnbuckle before sprinting back, Coy unable to do anything as Stryke delivers a savage Dropkick RIGHT TO HIS FACE!!! West head snaps back as Stryke hits flush on the move, there isn’t a person watching in the world who’s not cringing at that one.

 

Comet:“Stryke just took citizen West’s face off! Nothing flashy about that one, just pure brutality.”

 

Coy holds his face in obvious pain, unable to do much more than roll himself under the ropes in hope of finding some temporary respite as Stryke picks himself up off the mat. Stryke is oblivious to the jeers and insults of the crowd, now fully focused on dishing out punishment to the man that stands between him and the US Belt. Stryke reaches down and starts to drag Coy up, bringing him to his feet between the ropes and the side of the cage, West in a very perilous position. It soon gets worse though, as Stryke grabs Coy’s head and begins dragging it back and forth across the steel, West face scraping on the mesh and starting to open up his forehead, drops of red starting to trickle forth!

 

Riley:“And here comes the blood! I told you I had full faith in Stryke, hopefully now he’ll beat some sense into Coy West en route to taking his title.”

 

Stryke is careful not to get a finger caught in the cage as he relentlessly turns Coy’s face into a bloody mess, only pausing to bring Coy’s face of the steel and slam it back in again. The crowd’s distaste for Stryke is now at it’s peak, and he does nothing to change their opinion of him as he runs back across the ring, hitting the ropes and coming back at maximum velocity as he hits a FOREARM RIGHT TO THE BACK OF COY’S HEAD!! The Coyote is CRUNCHED into the steel, nowhere for him to go but down as he flops onto the apron like a dead fish from the impact.

 

Comet:“Oh my goodness, that could have knocked him right out!! Stryke seems more intent on just hurting his opponent rather than making an effort to escape!”

 

Riley:“Coy West may have joined the SWF to be able to feed his kids, but aftyer Stryke’s done with him his kids will be the ones feeding him through a straw!”

 

Stryke drops to his knees, reaching under the ropes and dragging the lifeless body of Coy West back to the middle of the ring before standing and raising his arms to the crowd, drawing a massive wave to hatred as he hovers over the now very bloody Coyote. Finally looking like he’s had enough, Stryke leaves him and moves to the ropes, stepping up and starting to climb his way out of the cage! Stryke’s weary body doesn’t allow him to climb the cage as quickly as he could earlier, but the Australian still makes steady progress as Coy West only stirs a little, showing no immediate signs of giving chase. Eventually Stryke reaches his way to the top, carefully pulling himself onto the top of the cage and standing tall as he looks out into the crowd.

 

Riley:“That’s it, now just climb down and the belt is yours!”

 

Stryke pauses however, and instead of climbing down to the floor he looks out into the crowd, starting to gloat over his impending win! Stryke raises his arms in victory and exchanges insults with the more vocal Philly fans, but unbeknownst to Stryke his timewasting has allowed the bloody Coy West to crawl over to the ropes nearest him and start climbing afterwards! Stryke turns and notices West pulling himself up towards the top, quickly moving to kick him back down again. Coy’s ready though, tripping Stryke up before he can strike, the Australian landing back first on the top of the cage and frantically grabbing hold of anything he can as he nearly falls right off! West moves to capitalise tough, still hanging from the top he reaches over and locks a front facelock on Stryke, the crowd going completely insane as they can sense what’s coming!

 

Riley:“NO! He can’t do this, he’ll kill them both! Fight back Stryke, punch him, bite him, do something!”

 

Stryke desperately tries to hold on, but he’s merely a passenger on this ride as Coy West pushes off the side of the cage, cameras flashing as he falls back…

 

 

 

…all the way back into the ring as he PULLS STRYKE DOWN WITH A SUPER-MEGA-ULTRA SUPERPLEX FROM THE TOP OF THE CAGE!!!!! Both men crash to the canvas with TREMENDOUS impact, the whole ring shaking as both men are strewn across the canvas!! The crowd goes BESERK as both men lay dead in the ring, “HOLY SHIT!” chants sounding out loud enough to shake the entire arena!

 

Comet:“UNBELIEVABLE!!! Citizen West just sacrificed himself to take out Stryke, I don’t see how either man will be able to get up after that! Coy West will fight to the bitter end before he lets his title go!!”

 

Riley:“This is HORRIBLE! Stryke didn’t come back for this, is there a doctor in the house?! We need medical attention for Stryke!

 

Comet:“And what about Coy?”

 

Riley:“Forget him, this is all his fault anyway!”

 

Both men still are yet to move as the crowd continues to go crazy, huge chants for Coy West resounding all over he Wachovia Center. And if it’s possible those chants get even louder, as Coy West lifts his head up and starts to move!

 

Comet:“And Coy West is showing signs of life! You’ve got to give him credit, he laid it all on the line there and it looks like it’s going to pay off!”

 

Coy slowly turns onto his stomach and starts to push himself up, his body wracked with pain making it very difficult. He soon has competition of the climb however, as after what seems like an eternity Stryke shows signs of life as well, slowly moving inch by inch to the nearest ropes to help pull himself to his feet.

 

Riley:“As much as I want Stryke to win maybe he should stay down, who knows what else that uncouth monster will try and do to him!”

 

Both men finally start to reach their feet, though neither is on the surest of footing. It’s Coy who’s up a little quickly, slowly staggering over to Stryke looking like the victim of a car wreck. Stryke turns to be met with a weak kick to the midsection, but it’s enough to stop Stryke in his tracks as Coy sets for another suplex, a roar going up as he looks for the SLINGSHOT SUPLEX!

 

Comet:“If Stryke wasn’t finished already this will stick the final nail in his proverbial coffin!”

 

Coy pauses for a moment, drawing up all the energy he can muster, before lifting Stryke vertical! He drops Stryke onto the ropes to slingshot him into the move, but as he passes the vertex Stryke slips out, landing on his feet behind him! Coy turns and Stryke throws a knee forward, Stryke barely able to stand as he drives it into the ribs and kidney region of Coy West. From there Stryke hooks Coy into a pumphandle position, setting for his own finisher the Low End Thoery! Knowing he’s spent Stryke doesn’t make any mistakes, lifting Coy up and just SPIKING HIM RIGHT ON HIS SKULL with the Pumphandle Piledriver!!!

 

Riley:“YES!! Stryke defies the odds, now climb out of there!”

 

Stryke doesn’t need a second invitation, stumbling over to the cage wall and starting to pull his aching body up inch-by-inch. The boos of the crowd don’t even enter his mind as he focuses fully on climbing, ever-so-slowly making it to the top. Finally he reaches the top of the cage, only to look back and see that somehow Coy West is moving! Seeing Coy West starting to push himself up is the last thing Stryke wanted to see after hitting his best move on him, but this time there’s no mistakes, Stryke not caring anymore and just wanting to end this as he throws caution to the win and lets go of the cage, dropping down ALL THE WAY TO THE CONCRETE FLOOR!

 

*DING!*DING!*DING!*

 

Riley:“STRYKE WINS! That damn Coy may have found a way to get up after the Low End Theory, but Stryke shows just how badly he wanted this by throwing himself to the floor! If he didn’t kill himself in the process Stryke will be the happiest man in Philly tonight!”

 

Coy dejectedly drops to his knees inside the cage,Funyon draping the belt over the unmoving Stryke’s chest as Lockdown fades to commercial.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

As SWF Lockdown roars back from commercial break, janitors and officials finish taking down the steel cage. As a rowdy fan in the front row repeatedly takes swings at Ced Ordonez with a frying pan, the camera pans out, showing that even fans in the upper deck of the Wachovia Center are armed with lead pipes and shovels. As the Lockdown theme fades out, the faces of Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley flash across the screen.

 

“Welcome back to LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCCCCCCCCCKDOWN! I am Cyclone Comet, situated at ringside as always with the personification of brotherly love, Bobby Riley!”

 

“ONE of these mutants has to have brought kryptonite…”

 

“What a chaotic night we’re having, Bobbo,” Comet crows, as a montage of the earlier matches plays on the SmarkTron, “Mark Stevens has let the Philly fans run the show tonight, and it has led to some horrific contests.”

 

As the footage continues to roll, Funyon steps into the ring, his nicely-pressed suit in sharp contrast to his fan-delivered barbed wire cufflinks. Raising the microphone to his lips, the voice of the SWF silences the rambunctious crowd. As the last officials scamper behind the curtain and the lights go down, that unmistakable voice booms throughout the arena.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen….the following contest is a NO DISQUALIFICATION MATCH…scheduled for one fall…with a thirty minute time limit…your referee for this bout…Anthony Michael Hall.”

 

The smark infested crowd gives the official a rousing wave of jeers, as Funyon switches cards and turns to the ramp.

 

“Coming up next, Bobbo, we’re gonna see a match made in hell! The leader of the Unnamed, John Duran takes on his own teammate, Todd Royal!”

 

“Yeah, GREAT.” Riley grumbles. “Mark Stevens knows that the Unnamed is poised to take over the SWF, and he’s trying to cripple it from the inside. First he unjustly fires Va’aiga, then he sends Duran and Royal in to fight each other like animals in a hardcore match! Mark Stevens is running scared, and it is NOT fair!”

 

Riley’s whining is cut off as the lights in the Wachovia Center flash to blackness. A spotlight falls from the rafters, and illuminates a stained-glass portrait of the House of Todd. From either stage flank, a soft praise chorus floats throughout the arena, setting off a stream of boos from the fans. As Todd’s Angels slide into view, their faces framed in candle light, Funyon booms over the PA again.

 

“Announcing first…accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye, and representing the UNNAMED…from San Diego, California…weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds…TODD ROOOOOYYYYYAAAAALLLLL!”

 

AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” blasts over the speakers, and the crowd’s jeers continue as the curtain parts and Megan Skye steps through, dressed in a knotted-up “Landon Maddix is my favorite singer” T-shirt, and a black mini-skirt. Winking at the camera, Skye steps aside, allowing Todd Royal to step though, a scowl etched in his face. Wearing a “Todd Works in Mysterious Ways” vest, and silver and black tights, Royal shuns the fans on his way down the ramp, before climbing into the ring.

 

“Todd Royal has been on a bit of a skid recently,” Comet points out, as Royal hands his vest to Skye, “He’s come up short in shots for the SWF Cruiserweight title, and several attempts at the tag titles. Tonight, however, he may face his toughest challenge.”

 

“Royal shouldn’t even be WRESTLING right now, Comet. Let alone in a hardcore match with John Duran. His neck may still be injured as a result of the brutal attack from Wild & Dangerous. This is even more blatant bias from our commissioner.”

 

“Shoot to Thrill” fades from the PA system, but the booing only increases as the lights drop completely to black again.

 

“NO..

NO..

NOTORIOUS!”

 

“And his opponent…from Champaign, Illinois…weighing in at two hundred and sixty eight pounds…he is the LEADER of the UNNAMED… “The Notorious One”…JOHN DUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAANNN!”

 

Funyon’s voice is drowned out by Spineshank’s “Synthetic”, and the curtain is pulled back, revealing John Duran to the arena audience. Wearing a “Sin to Win” T-shirt and jet-black tights, Duran smirks as he stops at the top of the ramp to flip off the entire crowd. The Philadelphia fans have no problem returning the gesture, increasing Duran’s smirk as he saunters to the ring, scanning the crowd for weapons.

 

“John Duran has his sights set firmly on Charlie Matthews, but tonight his stable mate Landon Maddix gets that shot, and he’s got Todd Royal.” Comet says, running down the night’s situation.

 

“Yeah, but when Duran does get that shot at Matthews, believe you me, the “Grappler” won’t be able to WALK, let alone slap on a chinlock.”

 

As the music fades out and Funyon steps from the ring, Anthony Michael Hall runs down the rules for the competitors. As the official calls for the bell, the Unnamed members step into the center of the ring, scowling as they stare each other down.

 

*DING* *DING* *DING*

 

“There obviously seems to be some tension between the members of the Unnamed,” says Comet as the men glare at each other. “Duran is the leader of the group, but Royal isn’t used to following anyone.”

 

“You’re instigating…”

 

Taking a step back from his partner and opponent, Duran raises his left arm into the air. Royal simply smirks and nods his head, lifting his left arm to meet it. The competitors intertwine their fingers and raise their free hands, clasping them together in a test of strength. The crowd continues to buzz as the Unnamed members grapple rock back and forth, fighting for position.

 

Royal pushes hard into his opponent, but Duran plants his foot, driving forward and powering Todd off him. Royal’s face reddens and strains as he fights back, but the Notorious One pushes Todd backwards, bridging him head-first into the canvas. Royal loops his leg over the bottom rope, however, forcing Hall to intervene and break the hold. As Duran backs off, Todd rolls under the bottom rope, scanning the crowd for a weapon.

 

“John Duran just overpowering the smaller Royal there,” Comet points out, as Royal grabs a chair from a ringside fan. “And now it looks like Todd is going to turn the violence up a notch.”

 

“You know, you’re as bad as Stevens. These two used to RESPECT each other before they were forced to battle here tonight.”

 

The blood-thirsty Philadelphia crowd pops for the impending violence, as Royal nods and slides into the ring with the weapon. Duran’s eyes widen as Todd charges, and the Unnamed’s leader ducks out of the ring, pointing to his head and scanning the audience for a weapon of his own, causing Cyclone Comet to react with anticipation.

 

“Business is about to pick up, Bobbo! John Duran is looking for a weapon of his own, and he may be looking to teach the cocky youngster a lesson!”

 

“I hate you.”

 

As Riley bemoans the heel-on-heel violence, Duran grins widely and plucks a chair of his own from the crowd- this one wrapped in barbed wire. As the crowd’s anticipation grows, Duran grins, sliding in under the bottom rope and backing Todd away. As Duran opens the chair and props it up in the corner, the fans rise to their feet.

 

“Tonight should be a night of celebration for the Unnamed!” Riley whines, “Landon Maddix could walk away with the SWF title! But instead we could see two members annihilate each other just for the sake of Mark Stevens’ ego!”

 

On the other side of the ring, Royal mimics his opponent, opening his chair and setting it up in the corner. He snarls and charges, but the crowd’s attention is suddenly averted, as a loud crash emanates from the stage.

 

“What the…?!?”

 

The competitors in the ring suddenly halt, as the camera pans to the entrance way, where Toxxic and Andrew Rickmen spill out from behind the curtain.

 

“YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

The crowd erupts as the Hardcore champion tumbles down the ramp, a victim of a shovel shot from the Insane Luchador. Rickmen lines up to take a second whack, but Toxxic reaches up, clubbing IL in the groin and sending the shovel clanging off the ramp.

 

“Here they come again, Comet!” Riley shouts, “These two have been battling all night long, and we could see an end to this right here and right now!”

 

As Rickmen doubles over and falls to his knees, Toxxic reaches into the front row and grabs a home-made light tube sword. The crowd pops, and the champion swings, exploding the tubes over the head of the challenger.

 

*POP!*

 

“Duran and Royal are just watching from the ring as these two men beat the living hell out of each other!” Comet roars, as Toxxic grabs a noose from ringside and loops it around IL’s neck. As the camera zooms in on Rickmen’s face, the straight-edger begins to drag his opponent toward the ring.

 

A sadistic grin on his face, Toxxic drags the now purple-faced Luchador around the ringside area, repeatedly kicking him in the face, and drawing smirks from the Unnamed members in the ring. As the champion stops to mock the crowd, however, Rickmen reverses, pulling on the noose and sending Toxxic hard into the stairs.

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic groans and struggles to his feet as the challenger slips the noose back over his head. As the crowd roars behind him, the Insane one takes off, leaping off the dislodged steps and wrapping his legs around his opponent’s head, rana’ing Toxxic into the crowd.

 

“I - L!” *clap* *clap* “I - L!” *clap* *clap*

 

“Andrew Rickmen is really in his element tonight!” Comet roars, as IL leaps over the guard rail after his opponent. “I wouldn’t be shocked to see a new champion here tonight!”

 

In the crowd now, the challenger is swarmed with fans offering weapons. Reaching up and grabbing a street sign that has been modified to say “STOP singing Maddox!”, Rickmen wraps the steel around the champion’s head, sending Toxxic stumbling back into the sea of humanity. As the camera man pushes through the weapon-wielding crowd, the wrestlers disappear into the backstage area, followed closely by a crowd of about a dozen fans.

 

“Apparently we’re going to have to wait a little while to see a decision on the Hardcore title.” Riley says, as the camera pans back into the ring.

 

“No more distractions, however, for Duran and Royal. These two were ready to tear each other apart just moments ago!” Comet cries, as the Unnamed members circle each other in the ring.

 

“This sucks.”

 

Their appetites whetted by the burst of Hardcore title action, the rabid Philly crowd turns their blood lust to the ring. Taking the offensive, Royal grabs Duran by the wrist, whipping him into the corner towards his chair. The big man puts on the brakes, however, stopping just short of colliding with steel.

 

“OOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Reversing his momentum, the Notorious One plants his foot and sends Todd towards the barbed-wire weapon lodged in the turnbuckles. Breaking free of his leader’s grip, Royal drops to the mat, baseball sliding just short of the barbs.

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“The crowd is really looking for blood here tonight!” Comet yells, “They’ve been on their feet waiting for the first weapon shot of the match!”

 

“That shows how intelligent THESE idiots are.”

 

Royal scrambles to his feet and charges his opponent, but Duran sidesteps him, wrapping his massive bicep around Todd’s head and dropping him to the mat with a headlock. As the crowd halts in stunned silence, Megan Skye grabs the steel chair from the corner, folding it up and tossing it under the ring.

 

Grabbing Duran’s arm with both his hands, Royal frees his head, keeping his grasp on the notorious one’s arm and twisting it back into a hammerlock. Megan claps as she struts around the ring, and Royal releases the hold, leaping up and locking his legs around Duran’s head. At the other side of the ring, Skye grabs a hold of the other chair, tossing it under the ring as well.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“What in the world is going on here?” Comet wonders out loud as crowd quickly turns on the match. “These two men were ready to rip each other to pieces with chairs and barbed-wire just moments ago!”

 

“HAH!” Riley screams triumphantly. “THIS is much better!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!”

 

Duran rolls over onto his stomach to gain leverage, and uses his strength to push Royal off the head scissors, freeing himself from the hold. Todd tries to scramble to his feet, but Duran pushes him back to the mat, sliding up his body and locking on another headlock. Megan claps politely again, as the notorious one grinds Royal into the mat.

 

Planting his feet, Duran pulls himself and his opponent off the canvas, standing in the ring and grinning sarcastically at the angry crowd. Royal struggles to free himself, but unable to overpower the bigger man, scissors Duran’s legs and takes him down with a drop-toe-hold.

 

“See, I knew John Duran and Todd Royal were smarter than that!” Riley crows, as the fans angrily throw down their home-made weapons. “Mark Stevens, you, this crowd- everyone wanted the Unnamed to tear each other apart. But they’re giving you a world class display of technical wrestling!”

 

“This crowd did NOT come tonight for technical wrestling, Riley.” Comet points out. “They came with a promise of violence and carnage, and these two men are certainly pissing them off.”

 

The leader of the Unnamed scrambles to his feet, but Royal hooks him under the arm, arm-dragging him to the canvas and locking on an armbar. Duran is keeping his eyes open, however, and quickly scuttles over to the nearest bottom rope, locking his hand around it as Anthony Michael Hall tells Todd to break the hold, which he promptly does!

 

“Look at that! Todd Royal won’t even illegally hold the submission hold longer than the call for the break!” Comet laments. “Can’t they do something at least a little bit against the rules?”

 

“Mr. Injustice over here,” Riley chuckles, “whatever happened to the despicable attacks with the weapons?”

 

“But this is Philadelphia!”

 

Todd stands and moves to the middle of the ring, waiting for the Notorious One to get back to his feet. Duran does so after a moment, shaking off his arm and looking up at Royal with a smile on his face. John then tries to come forward and plant a boot into Todd’s midsection, but that’s a no go as the self-proclaimed Todd grabs the leg and spins to his left, performing a dragon screw leg whip that sends the Unnamed leader right back down to the canvas!

 

“Todd Royal is looking very crisp tonight against Duran,” Riley notices, “why can’t the crowd appreciate that? They hate Duran so much, and look what’s happening to him!”

 

Comet sighs before giving his response. “It’s just not the same, Bobbo.”

 

After the dragon screw, Megan looks on pleased as Todd keeps his hold on Duran’s left leg, falling to the mat and putting it in a scissors lock as Duran applies a kneebar! As Anthony Michael Hall leans in to check on the Notorious One, the Philadelphia crowd can no longer use one word to sum up their feelings.

 

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

 

“The Philadelphia crowd is starting to get a little violent,” Comet warns, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they jumped in the ring and forced these two to hit each other with the various weapons!”

 

“I’d like to see them try,” Riley says with an evil guffaw.

 

Duran refuses to give up and, after a moment, he once again hurries to the ropes, clutching them as Todd is once again forced to break the hold. Rolling away from the knee bar, Todd gets to his feet and turns to the crowd, asking them what they thought of his impressive technical clinic. Megan Skye claps, but the rest of the crowd is incensed and things aren’t looking too good for Todd Royal after the show. However, while he taunts the crowd…John Duran sneaks up from behind and rolls up Todd! Anthony Michael Hall swings around to count the pinfall as the crowd prays that this is the end of the match.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

T-KICKOUT!

 

But it’s not even close as Todd kicks out of the shock pin with ease. As Royal escapes the pinning situation, he comes right for John…who quickly wraps his meaty arms around Todd’s head and cinches in a sleeperhold!

 

“Yes!” Riley passionately exclaims, “the sleeperhold! This could be it right here!”

 

“Oh come on, Bobbo, when was the last time a sleeperhold actually worked?”

 

“It’s that kind of attitude that these disrespectful fans have!”

 

Royal tries to fight it at first, but as John applies pressure to the hold, Todd sloooowly begins to fade. …Fade… Duran drops to one knee as Royal slowly slumps down into the center of the ring, with nowhere to go and fading fast.

 

“I think Todd might have actually fallen asleep!” Riley speaks with astonishment as Comet seems about ready to bash his head into the edge of the announce table.

 

Anthony Michael Hall receives no response from Todd when he asks if he submits, so he checks the near arm of Royal, lifting it into the air…and letting it drop.

 

“ONE!” the referee screams at the timekeeper, having to scream because the fans are growing restless of this match and would likely rather see paint dry than watch this match. Anthony Michael Hall once again raises the hand of Todd…and lets it fall.

 

“TWO!”

 

“Perhaps this match can finally end, Bobbo, so we can get some action that the Philadelphia fans truly want and not this ridiculous showing from Citizen Duran and Todd Royal!”

 

“I hope this fun never ends, Comet,” Riley laughs like a kid in a candy store.

 

Todd’s arm is raised once again, and Duran is confident that he has this match won as Anthony Michael Hall allows the arm to fall one more time…

 

…but this time Todd is able to keep it up in the air! Michael Hall promptly signals to the timekeeper that the match is continuing…and that’s what pisses the crowd off the most! The crowd doesn’t care that Todd is slowly rising to his feet and planting elbows into the midsection of the Notorious One. After a handful of elbows, however, Todd is finally able to re-position his feet and shuck Duran off him, breaking the submission hold as John is sent into the ropes with his momentum.

 

“Look at all this high-octane action,” Comet hypes sarcastically, and Riley gives him a glare.

 

As Duran rebounds off the ropes, Todd suddenly wallops John in the shin with a well-placed boot, sending Duran to the mat!

 

“What a shot to the shin!” Riley almost screams into his microphone, knocking Comet sideways out of his near sleep state.

 

With the Unnamed leader once again on the mat, Todd takes advantage and goes after the left leg of Duran again, this time slowly turning the muscular frame of the Notorious One over onto his stomach, and then leaning back as Todd locks on a single leg crab!

 

“How much more can that left leg of Duran take, Comet?”

 

“The question is how much I’m going to be caring by the end of this match, Robert.”

 

Duran still refuses to give up when Anthony Michael Hall asks, and Duran attempts to use his arms to leverage his way out of the hold, but Todd leans back and applies more pressure to the single leg crab, as Megan Skye cheers on from ringside. Meanwhile, in the crowd, a desire to end this match has reached an all-time high.

 

“TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!”

 

“Must be a very pro-Royal crowd out there tonight, Comet.”

 

“Are you really that ignorant, Bobbo?”

 

“Oh, I’m most definitely that ignorant to the fans. These two guys in that ring realize that the fans don’t mean much of anything except they’re another group of people who are easy to piss off, as is evident here tonight.”

 

After a repeated refusal to submit to the single leg crab, Todd Royal releases the hold once again; eliciting yet another round of groans and jeers from the Philadelphia crowd. Royal bends down and brings Duran to his feet by his jet-black hair as the referee warns Todd to watch the hair. However, Todd simply puts the Notorious One in a front facelock, draping the near arm of Duran over his neck as he attempts to lift John up in a vertical suplex!

 

AND DURAN BLOCKS IT! He puts a leg up in between the two legs of Todd and turns the tables on Royal, reversing the vertical suplex into a vertical suplex of his own, slamming Royal down to the mat!

 

“Great reversal there from Duran,” Riley praises.

 

“I think that’s the best impact move that this match has seen today!”

 

With Royal down on the canvas, Duran moves his body over Todd’s putting on the lateral press as Anthony Michael Hall swings around to count the pinfall!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

KICKOUT!

 

The fans aren’t too happy that Todd has kicked out as the match continues! Megan Skye, on the other hand, is pleased to see that one of his men is still in this match.

 

“Phew, that was a close one, Comet. I thought that Duran was going to pull of an upset there!”

 

Not only are the fans tired of watching this match, but they also want an appearance from their hero.

 

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPLER!”

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPLER!”

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPLER!”

 

“Yes! Let’s get Citizen Matthews out here to show these guys how to wrestle!”

 

“...Surely you jest, Comet. Because you know that Duran and Royal are two of the finest wrestlers that the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation has to offer!”

 

Duran hears the chants for the SWF World Heavyweight Champion and turns to the crowd, yelling at them, but he is easily drowned out by the fans, who are clamoring for their champion. As this is happening, Todd Royal is rising to his feet, and he notices that he has an opportunity, so he seizes it! Charging forward, Royal clips Duran in the left leg, taking the Notorious One down as the weak leg of Duran is attacked once again!

 

“Very smart move on the part of Todd Royal there, Comet, wouldn’t you say so? Comet, put down that noose!” Riley smacks the rope out of Comet’s hand as he can’t take much more of this.

 

Duran is dragged by Todd to the middle of the ring by his left leg. With the Notorious One trapped in the middle of the ring, Todd then arranges his legs around Duran’s legs, and the crowd knows what’s coming as Todd falls back onto the mat.

 

“Wrath of Todd, Wrath of Todd!” Riley screams.

 

“Finally, maybe this match is going to mercifully end!”

 

Duran fights it for as long as he can, shaking off the initial question from Anthony Michael Hall if he submits. John begins to writhe on the ground, though, and seeing that there is nowhere to go, he finally taps out in the Wrath of Todd as the ref jumps to his feet and calls for the bell!

 

DING DING DING

 

Funyon immediately gets on the mic as Todd relinquishes the Wrath of Todd and gets to his feet, the referee raising the hand of Todd Royal in victory.

 

“Your winner,” Funyon booms, “TODD ROYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!”

 

John Duran rolls to the outside and lands on his feet, hobbling over to Funyon and snatching the microphone out of his hand as AC/DC’s “Shoot To Thrill” continues to play, but fades as Duran begins to speak.

 

“Uh-oh, Duran has something to say now,” Comet groans again.

 

“What do you fans want?” Duran yells at the crowd, who showers him with boos as trash actually begins to fly into the ring. “Do you fans want to see Charlie Matthews come out here and give me a Wake Up Call onto barbed wire? Huh?”

 

The crowd gives a resounding cheer to the idea of that, but John shakes his head. “Well that’s TOO BAD, because that isn’t going to happen! And that’s why it didn’t happen in this match tonight! Todd Royal and I are two of the finest specimen to ever grace an SWF ring, and we’ll be damned if we’re going to cut ourselves up just to amuse you cretins!”

 

Royal nods in agreement with Duran’s statement as the crowd boos the Notorious One’s words. “If you want to see a real bloodbath, watch when I get my hands on Charlie Matthews. I will rip him to shreds--if there’s anything left of him after facing Landon tonight--and I will make sure that, one way or another, that title comes back to the Unnamed!”

 

Duran shoves the microphone into Funyon’s chest and walks off as powerful boos rain down from the roof of the Wachovia Center all the way down to the front row as Duran receives middle fingers as he moves to the ramp, still hobbling as Todd Royal and Megan Skye travel up the ramp with him to the back.

 

“More strong words from Citizen Duran,” Comet notes, “how much longer will it be before he finally gets his hands on Charlie Matthews, though?”

 

“It won’t be long, Comet, I can assure you of that.”

 

“Nevertheless fans, we’ve still got some action to come! Not only is Grappler and Maddix scheduled for the main event, but up next, these fans are finally going to get what they want! Dace Night and Alan Clark! Window Pain! And what will happen with Toxxic and the Insane Luchadore? We’ll find out after the break!”

 

Fade to commercials.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

As we come back from commercial the camera’s scan around the Wachovia Center revealing the massed throngs of SWF fans who have packed the place out in anticipation of some hardcore action before cutting to Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley seated at the announce table as usual.

 

Welcome back to Lockdown, Citizens!” Comet cries as the little red light on the camera informs the two-man team that they’re back in action. “We’ve seen some amazing action so far, but now it’s time to rejoin our roving Hardcore Title match that is being contested under Ironman rules! When we last saw them Toxxic and Insane Luchador were tied on three falls apiece-”

“-and running away from some Girl Scouts-” Bobby Riley interjects.

“-but we know that a lot has happened since then!” Comet finishes. “First, let’s take you through some action replays; we should make it clear that in their rush to escape such a large number of hormonal girls the Citizens Toxxic and Rickman were apparently separated. Now here is what was caught on camera in the aftermath of that as both men searched for the other:”

 

[ACTION REPLY]

The shot cuts to a still screen of Toxxic walking down a corridor. After a second an “Action Replay” icon appears in the bottom right-hand corner and the shot begins to move. Toxxic walks cautiously, keeping close to the wall. Reaching a corner the Straight-Edge Sensation starts to creep cautiously around it - then looks at the camera.

 

“You know Boz, if Rickmen’s looking for me all he has to do is spot your fat arse and it’ll lead him right here,” the Hardcore Champion comments, eyeing the SWF’s new cameraman who is standing in the middle of the corridor intersecting the one Toxxic is in, and is evidently slightly less inconspicuous than a tuxedo in Coy West’s RV. Rolling his eyes Toxxic walks around the corner - and is grabbed by the throat and pressed up against the wall. It is not Rickmen however; instead the ambusher is dressed in a Girl Scout uniform, but rather than the 15 year-olds Toxxic and Rickmen were fleeing from earlier this young lady is probably the Hardcore Champion’s own age, the studded wristband giving her away as the person who mugged the last Girl Scout earlier. The purloined uniform doesn’t quite fit, of course - but in a good way. Pressing Toxxic up against the wall the red-and-black dreadlocked beauty spends several seconds kissing him most thoroughly before disengaging and walking away, leaving Toxxic looking rather shell-shocked but not unhappy with the events that have just transpired. Turning away again the Brit looks at Boz and his camera.

 

“It’s good to be the champ,” Toxxic remarks, his trademark lop-sided grin creeping over his face - until Andrew Rickmen suddenly dashes around the corner behind the Hardcore Champion and nails him in the back of the head with a can of beer! Toxxic falls to his knees and grabs the back of his head while Rickmen walks around him and shakes the can up - then opens it, spraying the straight-edger with alcoholic froth. Toxxic attempts to wipe his face clean and Rickmen crushes the can on top of his head before pushing the champ backwards and attempting a pin! Puffing heavily the Memphis Eel rounds the corner as well and dives - well, squats - into action...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-kickout!

 

[/ACTION REPLAY]

 

“It took more than a beer can to put Toxxic down for another three-count after the respite both he and Rickmen had gained,” Comet says as the action freezes, “but things started to heat up shortly afterwards - here are some pertinent highlights from the orgy of hardcore action both men have been involved in since!”

“Hur hur... sorry...” Riley mutters.

 

[ACTION REPLAY]

The action is rejoined with Rickmen pummelling Toxxic with right hooks up against the wall in a storage area. Finally the Insane Luchador backs off for a moment as Toxxic droops, then bends down and picks up some cable from off the floor. It is the work of a moment to wrap it around the Straight-Edge Sensation’s throat and Rickmen wrenches back, seemingly determined to choke his opponent out! Arms flailing, Toxxic seems to be fading fast but finally manages to grab Rickmen’s head in both hands and sit out with an inverted jawbreaker! The Insane One staggers backwards, allowing Toxxic to untangle his throat and take some welcome deep breaths.

 

[“You see Comet, even now Rickmen is cheating!” Riley says in the arena. “I tell you, that man is dangerous!”

“There are no rules in this match Robert,” Comet protests, “or indeed for most of this evening! And it’s not like Citizen Rickmen’s ring name doesn’t give you some warning about his temperament...”]

 

One hand clenched around his jaw, Rickmen charges at his opponent again, but Toxxic sidesteps him and clamps on a rear headlock. Dropping to one knee the Hardcore champion drives the other into Rickmen’s back, then pops up again and spins over, dropping the Insane One to the hard concrete floor with a Diamond Cutter to finish the Detoxx combo! Rickmen is virtually motionless but Toxxic is unable to do much more than suck in lungfuls of air for a few seconds before finally managing to drape an arm over his opponent...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Pinfall!” the Memphis Eel declares. “Toxxic is ahead bah- aw darn...”

 

Toxxic has crawled further towards Rickmen’s prone body, and this time manages to roll fully into the cover and hook a leg...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEE-kickout!

 

“Only two! Only two!” the Eel yells, brandishing two fingers around at the completely empty tech area.

[/ACTION REPLAY]

 

“If Citizen Toxxic had just been a little quicker, he might have got two falls off that devastating move onto the concrete,” Comet says, “but Citizen Rickmen’s earlier attack had left the champion too short of breath to fully capitalise!”

“The Memphis Eel was too slow, you mean,” Riley grumbles. “There’s a man who needs to knock on the deep-fried banana sandwiches.”

“However, moments later...” Comet continues...

 

[ACTION REPLAY]

Toxxic is clearly in control with the struggling Insane Luchador in a front facelock. Looking backwards to check his positioning Toxxic sees a tech trolley behind him with a large cable crate on it. Grinning to himself, Toxxic throws one of Rickmen’s arms over his own neck and prepares to suplex the Insane Luchador backwards... but Rickmen blocks it! Using his free hand the challenger fires off a couple of right hands to Toxxic’s ribs, then hoists the champion into the air himself and drops the Brit chest-first over the trolley! Toxxic crashes to the floor and grabs his previously-hurt ribs in agony, but Rickmen’s back didn’t like his suplexing ways and chooses now to let him know. Gritting his teeth, the challenger crawls around the trolley to where Toxxic is curled in a foetal position and pushes the champion fully onto his back, cradling one leg...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Pinfall!” the Memphis Eel declares. “All level at four all, and ah’m all shook up!”

 

But Rickmen isn’t finished yet! Having automatically rolled off his opponent following the three-count the Insane Luchador’s battered neurones fire back into life, and the challenger goes for another pin...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

...and gets it!

[/ACTION REPLAY]

 

“Well Citizens, this match has certainly been closely-fought so far!” Comet exclaims. “The score currently stands as Toxxic on four falls and Rickmen on five, with ten needed to win! And now we are going back LIVE to the backstage area where this gargantuan struggle is continuing even as we speak!”

“As you speak, you mean,” Bobby Riley grumbles. “Honestly, I’ve hardly managed to get a word in edgeways so far...”

 

Ignoring the complaining commentator (as is best) the camera cuts backstage where Toxxic and Rickmen have now apparently left the tech area and are slugging it out along the corridors of the Wachovia Center. Grabbing Toxxic by the back of his trousers and shirt Rickmen proceeds to ram the Hardcore Champion into first one door... then another... then throws him against a wall. The Brit slides down to the floor like so much melted ice-pop and Rickmen proceeds to lay the boots into the champion’s injured ribs. Finally Rickmen lets up the assault only to drop down into a pin...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Pinfall!” the Eel shouts. “Rickmen leads bah six falls tah four!”

 

The Insane Luchador rises from the floor and regards his opponent for a moment. Then a sadistic grin crosses Rickmen’s face and he backs away from Toxxic and heads off round the corner.

 

“Now what could Citizen Rickmen be after that would make him desist his attack on the Hardcore Champion?” Comet wonders.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Riley opines miserably.

 

The camera edges around the corner and peers down the corridor where Rickmen went. One door is slightly ajar, and as Boz moves further away from the wall it becomes obvious that the nameplate reads “Insane Luchador”.

 

“So, whatever it is was in his dressing room,” Comet deduces. “Robert, quite frankly Citizen Rickmen could have stowed anything in there in preparation for this match!”

“I know, that’s what’s worrying me!” Riley replies.

 

Suddenly the picture jolts as Toxxic appears in shot, having shoved Boz aside to get there. Pain is writ large on the champion’s face, but it is warring with determination and an obvious desire to shove Rickmen’s head so far up his backside that the challenger will be able to eat his own breakfast again.

 

“Where’d he go?” Toxxic growls at Boz, who extends one hand and points at the dressing room door. Toxxic staggers towards it and disappears inside...

 

 

 

 

There is silence.

 

 

 

 

 

*VRRRRRRRMMMMMRRRRMMMMMRRRRMMMMM!!*

 

“Oh, FUCK ME!”

 

Suddenly Toxxic reappears, running back the way he has come as fast as is possible in his battered state. Close on his heels appears Andrew Rickmen, carrying a very familiar piece of gardenware...

 

“Sweet Baby Jesus!” Comet blasphemes as Rickmen sets off in pursuit. “That’s Dace Night’s weedwhacker!”

“Please let Dace find Rickmen before he catches Toxxic!” Bobby Riley pleads. “PLEASE!”

 

The hobbling Toxxic reaches another intersection and turns left. Moments later Rickmen follows him, still brandishing the weedwhacker. The only sound for a second is the engine of Dace Night’s favourite appliance...

 

*KSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!*

 

...then Rickmen staggers backwards out of the corridor again in a cloud of white powder. Following him is Toxxic, brandishing the fire extinguisher that has just blinded the homicidal Hardcore challenger. Taking aim once more Toxxic lets rip with another blast...

 

*KSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!*

 

*THUNK!!*

 

...before ramming the cylinder into Rickmen’s head! The Insane Luchador goes down, dropping the weedwhacker as he does so and causing Toxxic to jump aside as it skitters across the floor, still running. Casting the fire extinguisher to one side the Hardcore Champion virtually falls onto the stunned Rickmen as the Eel runs to get into position...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“And that fall pegs it back to six-five in Citizen Rickmen’s favour, Robert!” Comet announces as Toxxic rolls wearily off his opponent. “Toxxic is still in this match but the champion is definitely looking the worse for wear!”

“Well, wouldn’t you look the worse for where if our so-called Commissioner had booked you in a Hardcore Ironman match?” Bobby Riley asks. “Toxxic has said before that he’s not a hardcore wrestler at heart; the only reason he’s even competing right now, Comet, is because of his unswerving dedication to his duty as champion!”

“And the simple fact that he’s not a hardcore wrestler at heart may cost him,” Comet opines, “for there are very few in this business as unstable as Citizen Rickmen...”

 

As the Insane One in question slowly starts to push himself up it becomes clear that the match has finally taken a visual toll on the combatants - the fire extinguisher shot to the head has busted Rickmen open, and the blood is dripping onto the corridor floor! The sight of his own blood seems to give Rickmen new strength and the challenger raises himself to his knees. Toxxic approaches, seeking to put Rickmen flat on his back again but the Insane Luchador fires off a right hand that connects with his opponent’s injured ribs again! Toxxic doubles over and Rickmen starts to rise to his feet again, but as he reaches out to grab the champion Toxxic jabs a thumb into Rickmen’s eye, sending the Insane One staggering back. Toxxic follows his man in and thumbs a boot into Rickmen’s ribs - then drives Rickmen’s face into his knee before dropping backwards, spiking the challenger on his head on the corridor floor with a DDT!

 

“Sobering Thought!” Comet screams in horror as Rikmen’s head connects with the ground. “That could have concussed Citizen Rickmen right there!”

“And a good thing too...” Bobby Riley says as Rickmen rolls limply over into his back, leaving a red smudge where the young man’s bloody forehead made impact. Toxxic reaches over and drapes an arm over his opponent again...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Six all!” Comet yells. “The champion has drawn level with that brutal move!”

And he’s not finished yet!” Bobby Riley points out.

 

Having rolled his weight off Rickman’s shoulders Toxxic realises he has a chance to pull ahead and goes for the pin again, this time hooking the leg to make extra sure...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

Rickmen manages to squirm his shoulder off the floor - but not quite in time to prevent the Memphis Eel’s flyswatter from smacking down for the third time, putting the score at seven-six to Toxxic! Scenting blood (figuratively) Toxxic moves in again as Rickmen struggles back to all-fours, eager to try and put this match beyond his opponent...

 

*CHING!!*

 

...but with a desperation move, Rickmen simply rams his head into the Straight-Edge Sensation’s crotch! Toxxic staggers back and falls down, but the Insane Luchador is simply too battered to try and take advantage of it.

 

“What a gruelling match-up this has turned out to be!” Comet says as the two men use the walls to try and pull themselves up. “Neither man can be faulted on his desire for the Hardcore Gamer’s Belt...”

“No, but Rickmen can be faulted on his stubborn refusal to lay down and quit!” Bobby Riley snaps back. “Toxxic is the better man - Rickmen should just admit it!”

 

Andrew Rickmen seems to have other ideas however, and the Insane Luchador pushes himself away from the wall towards his wobbling opponent. But Toxxic isn’t (quite) as shaky as he seems, and as Rickmen approaches the Hardcore Champion lets fly with a:

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

Windup...

 

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE...

...but Rickmen ducks! The momentum of his own move sends Toxxic sprawling facefirst, and the nature of the match means that for a moment it looks like he’s in no real position to rise. Rubbing his spine with one hand Rickmen bends down and grabs hold of Toxxic’s ankle, then uses the other hand as well and starts to drag the Hardcore Champion backwards along the corridor on his front!

 

“Where the hell is Rickmen taking our champion now?” Riley asks desperately as the two disappear around a corner with the Memphis Eel following.

“I’m not sure Robert, but they’re heading towards the ring entrance area!” Comet replies. “We’ll have to keep you updated on their exploits, fans, and if the match finishes soon we WILL show you what went down - but now it’s time for Dace Night vs Alan Clark in a Window Pain Match!”

 

FADE OUT

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The Wachovia Center is buzzing with anticipation of more blood, sweat, blood, tears, and even more blood as the fans look rabid, waiting for the next contest to begin as Lockdown returns from it’s commercial break.

 

“Welcome back to Lockdown…and as you can see, the ring crew is working diligently to get the ring cleaned up a bit in preparation for the next match…a Window Pain Match! Oooo…I’m tingly all over!” Riley welcomes viewers back, and freaks them out as well.

 

“We didn’t need to now that, Robert…but yes, coming up next is a match that will feature Mr. Horrorcore himself, Dace Night, who was seen backstage earlier looking a bit too happy to be having this match tonight. Night will be facing off against the musically mental Alan Clark, who has been so concerned with Landon Maddix over the past few weeks that it has really showed in his performance. It seemed to culminate in a lose to Tom Flesher…”

 

“…and then he completely ruined Landon Maddix LIVE!” Riley interrupts his partner, “and he also completely destroyed the same guitar that he gave to Maddix as a gift on his birthday a few weeks prior. He is such a little brat!”

 

“Well that ‘little brat’ as you have put it hasn’t arrived to the arena yet, as far as we know, and we are not even sure this match is going to take place…”

 

Comet continues, but is suddenly cut off as the opening riffs of Nightrage’s “Hero” erupts throughout the arena and the Philadelphia fans explode right back as the entranceway is cast in bright white pyrotechnics.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a WINDOW PAIN MATCH~! The match ends when one man goes through the glass under the power of his opponent. Introducing first…he hails from Birmingham, England…he is the personification of Horrorcore…Dace!”

 

“FUCKING!”

 

“NIGHT!!!” Funyon can only shake his head as he looks out over the vulgar crowd, but through the bright lights comes the man himself, walking with a purpose toward the ring. The crowd cheers and chants widely as Night passes by two glass tables in the entranceway and then steps up the ring steps. He turns to face the crowd…

 

…and throws up the horns!

 

“HORR-OR-CORE! HORR-OR-CORE!”

 

The crowd’s chants grow louder and a sick smile appears on Night’s face as he turns and climbs into the ring, standing near the ropes and awaiting the arrival of his opponent as the blaring heavy metal sounds diminish into nothingness, only to be replaced by an approaching storm…

 

“And his opponent…he hails from Long Beach, California and is the S-W-F Cruiserweight Champion… ALAN CLARK!”

 

As the opening notes of “Wanted Dead or Alive” play, the crowd turns their attention to the entranceway, only to see it barren and lifeless.

 

“Oh not this again!” Riley starts, “If Alan Clark thinks Dace will fall for this two times in a row he really is messed up in the head!”

 

“Well like I said earlier, Citizen Riley…nobody has seen Alan all day!” But in the ring, Dace does seem prepared, looking over his shoulder and all around through the crowd, making sure that he will not be ambushed once more.

 

The lyrics begin, and still there is no sign of Clark. Referee Sexton Hardcastle slides into the ring, and he and Dace begin to chat, trying to figure out what to do…

 

~DARKNESS~

 

Suddenly, the Wachovia Center is dropped into pitch black, and the crowd can softly be heard. After a few seconds, the SmarkTron pops to life and shows a black screen and red lettering…

 

“…never forget the bloodshed…”

 

The letters ooze from the screen and the SmarkTron goes to darkness once more…but in a flash…

 

~LIGHT~

 

…the arena is suddenly cast into it’s normal radiance, with Dace and Hardcastle unmoving, but now a third figure stands in the ring behind them. He wears all black and his eyes are almost piercing through the back of Dace’s head.

 

“BY ZEUS! IT CAN’T BE!” Comet exclaims as the crowd explodes in cheers and Dace turns to see what the commotion is about…

 

…and locks eyes with Bloodshed!

 

“NO! NO! NO!” Riley repeats over and over as Bloodshed and Dace stand a few feet from each other, neither making a move.

 

“YES! IT IS! BLOODSHED LIVES!” Comet continues as Dace takes another step toward Bloodshed, only for him to throw up a hand, motioning him to stop.

 

“What? What is he doing?”

 

“I don’t know, Robert…” Comet confesses, but the world soon finds out, as Bloodshed’s other arm comes from behind his back, revealing a large shard of glass. With a smile on his face, he takes the glass and moves it to his forehead, running the jagged edge into his skin and tearing it open, causing small streams of crimson to begin to trickle down his face.

 

“AH! He just cut himself open! Alan Clark just sliced his face!”

 

“Now now…Alan Clark did nothing…that is Bloodshed right there!”

 

“I don’t care if it is the Pope…that is disgusting!” Riley rants and Sexton seems to need to take a potty break to change his outfit, but instead decides to do the right thing and get the festival of glass underway.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

The crowd seems pumped up beyond reasonable description as Alan tosses the shard of glass to the outside of the ring and the two do the most reasonable thing in the situation…

 

 

…they lock up.

 

Dace immediately shows off his power and shoves Bloodshed back into the corner, where Bloodshed simply bounces off and stares back at his opponent, the smile on his face growing larger as the blood continues to stream down his face.

 

“It definitely seems that this match is going to get violent in a hurry…”

 

“This match is going to go past violent…past ridiculously violent…and straight to LUDICRIOUSLY VIOLENT~! Why was this match even signed?!”

 

“Cause this is Philadelphia, Robert…and the fans love this kind of stuff.” Just as Comet finishes the sentence, Bloodshed rushes in and ducks a lariat from Dace, turning around in mid-stride and sending the back of his fist into the side of Dace’s head, knocking him off balance, but doing nothing more.

 

Dace turns toward the sneak attack and takes a foot to the gut, as Bloodshed doesn’t seem to be wearing shoes either. Dace doubles over just enough to allow Bloodshed to hook on a facelock. Bloodshed tries for a DDT, but Dace slips out, shoving his opponent down onto his back on the canvas.

 

Before Bloodshed can roll back to his feet, Dace lines himself up and sends a picture perfect kick straight between his legs. The crowd winces and gasps as Bloodshed rolls toward the outside of the ring, clutching himself in ways that should never be done in public.

 

“Now why would Citizen Night do such a thing?”

 

“To show that freak he isn’t afraid! BWAHAHA!” Riley laughs loudly as Dace slides to the outside to meet Bloodshed, and sends a harsh elbow into his temple. Bloodshed reels back a few steps and stops, his eyes turn to focus on Night and he takes another run at the larger superstar…

 

 

“BAAAAAAACK BODY DROP!” Comes the yell from Comet as Bloodshed is lifted up and over Dace’s head and tossed into the air…

 

 

 

*CRACK~!*

 

…and right onto a sawhorse!

 

“BY ZEUS! Bloodshed just took a back body drop into a sawhorse and his back could very well be broken!” Comet is losing it as Bloodshed falls limply to the floor on the outside of the ring, and even Sexton looks a little worried as he slides out of the ring to check on the superstar.

 

Dace, on the other hand, does not seem fazed and instead pulls Bloodshed off the ground and away from the helping hands of Hardcastle. Bloodshed begins to try and fight out from Night’s grasp, but Mr. Horrorcore keeps a firm grip before whipping Bloodshed into the barricade, his back taking another hard shot from the steel.

 

“Bloodshed is just getting ripped apart!” Riley screams as Dace grabs the sawhorse and lifts it into the air. Holding it with two hands, Dace takes his new weapon and makes a dash at Bloodshed, causing the smaller superstar to meet headfirst with the wooden beams. As more blood begins to be shed, Dace tosses the sawhorse down and pulls Bloodshed over toward one of the many glass tables sitting around the ring.

 

“Uh-oh…this return could be ending very shortly for Bloodshed!” Comet remarks as Dace locks in a front facelock and looks to end the match with a suplex through the table…

 

 

…BLOCKED!

 

 

 

…BLOCKED AGAIN!

 

 

Dace continues to try and suplex the smaller wrestler, but Bloodshed continues to block the move. Dace tries one last time, but Bloodshed blocks it and hooks his arms around Dace’s waist, using what strength he has to pull Dace off his feet and roll backwards, slamming Dace nearly headfirst into the floor!

 

“HIT THE LIGHTS! Bloodshed just countered into the Northern Lights Suplex! Dace could knocked out!” Comet screams as Dace lays on the floor, completely motionless. Bloodshed seizes the opportunity and drags Dace up and tosses him on top of the glass table, and then climbs up to the apron…and then up to the top rope!

 

“NO WAY!” Riley screams as Bloodshed leaps into the air, laying his body out and looking to senton himself straight through Dace Night and the table….

 

 

 

 

 

*CRASH*

 

 

“DACE NIGHT MOVES!” Comet exclaims as Dace is able to move his body off of the table just as Bloodshed crashes down, sending shards of glass in all directions.

 

“Bloodshed should have known that it would take more than a simple suplex to keep Dace Night down!”

 

“Yes, Robert…he should…but he didn’t. And he paid the price for that one!”

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

The crowd chants come as Bloodshed tries to pull himself out of the glass graveyard he landed in, and Dace moves in, kicking Bloodshed back and down and rubbing his face in the glass!

 

“Shades of From the Fire, but this time he’s on the receiving end!” Riley actually makes a statement on continuity as Bloodshed’s face is grated into the glass. Dace pulls Bloodshed up and tosses him into the ring, and the camera catches the crimson mask of the Cruiserweight Champion growing thicker and thicker by the minute.

 

“What is Dace going to do now?” Comet questions as Dace does not go into the ring, but instead reaches under the apron and pulls out one of the large windowpanes that have been placed there. The crowd cheers wildly as Dace takes the piece of glass and lays it across the two other glass tables in the entranceway.

 

“More glass! My God!” Riley loses it as Dace climbs up on the apron and throws up the horns, garnering another huge explosion of cheering before he climbs through the ropes and goes after Bloodshed once more.

 

Dace reaches him just as he gets to his feet, and the two lock up once more, but Bloodshed drops down and throws his arms backwards, sending Dace tripping over Bloodshed’s body and falling down, his face connecting with the bottom turnbuckle, causing even Sexton to gasp a little bit.

 

“There’s a counter I don’t think I’ve seen before…” Comet reacts as Bloodshed rolls backwards, hooking Dace’s leg as he goes and locking in a Half Crab! Dace pulls his body out below the bottom rope, but the hook on his leg stays firm, causing him to hang nearly out of control from the apron.

 

“Dace’s leg is locked tight in that crab and he has nowhere to go!” Riley yells as Bloodshed sees Night floundering over his shoulder and releases his leg, causing Dace to fall to the outside and land right on his head before flopping onto his back on the floor.

 

“I’ve never seen a boston crab have that much affect on someone’s neck!” Comet watches as Bloodshed rolls to the outside between two more of the setup tables.

 

“These guys go in the ring and then right back out! What is there problem?”

 

“Those are where the tables are, Robert!” Comet answers, but Bloodshed seems only interested in the apron as he throws it up and pulls out two more pieces of windowpane and then slides both of them into the ring. Bloodshed drags Dace off the floor and rolls him into the ring, and then follows quickly after him.

 

Before Dace can get to his feet, Bloodshed lifts one pane off the mat and holds it above his head…and slams it with brutal force across Dace’s back…

 

 

*CRAAAAASH*

 

Glass shards explode all over the canvas and Dace falls flat on his face, leaving a smiling Bloodshed standing over him. The Philly crowd explodes, some in cheers and others in boos for the Master of Horrorcore being left on his face in the middle of a sea of broken glass.

 

“Dace Night is down and this crowd seems perplexed!” Riley comments as Bloodshed walks bare-foot over the glass without even a wince before pulling Dace up, leaving behind an imprint of himself where no glass lays. Bloodshed scoops Dace off the ground and flips him upside down, slamming him back down into the glass.

 

“The damage being done to Dace’s back must be mindblowing…at least to a normal person like you and me, Comet…”

 

“Normal?” Comet turns his head to his partner as Bloodshed sees the problem with Dace Night’s affinity for wearing t-shirts to wrestle in, and without so much as asking first, Bloodshed rips the shirt from Dace’s back and throws into the crowd.

 

“Somebody is going to be selling that on Ebay tomorrow!” Riley exclaims as Bloodshed drags Dace back off the mat and chops him across his back before bending him over backwards and locking in a quick inverted facelock.

 

Dace tries to fight out from the hold, but Bloodshed grabs the side of Dace’s pants and lifts up, using what strength he has to turn Dace around in the air and jump up, falling down into the glass and driving Night into the canvas with a DDT!

 

“THE GREATEST HIT! Both men go down into the glass after that huge DDT from Bloodshed…and he’s smiling!” Comet is shocked as Bloodshed looks up into the camera, his face still covered with blood. The camera then moves to Dace, who rolls toward the outside of the ring and his back is visibly cut to pieces.

 

“Dace Night may need to rethink his strategy of ‘hardcore! hardcore! hardcore!’ if he wants to survive this match. It’s almost not fair…Night had no idea that Bloodshed would be coming out here!” Riley seems confused once more as the crowd suddenly explodes in cheers, even though the action in the ring is almost nothing…with Bloodshed taking his time to get to the outside of the ring.

 

“What is going on now?” Comet asks, but is soon answered as the split screen comes up, and the Insane Luchador and Toxxic can be seen fighting their way through the crowd!

 

“It’s Toxxic and the Luchador!” Riley squeels as IL lifts Toxxic off the ground and suplexs him over, driving him to the concrete. The Memphis Eel is ready for a count as IL rolls over Toxxic for a pin…

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

Toxxic gets his shoulder up and IL looks livid, currently down 7 falls to 6 in the match. Back to the match in the ring, as Bloodshed has Dace back inside and down near the corner, while trying to place the second windowpane into the corner. After he gets it propped up in the way he likes, Bloodshed drags Dace up and lays him across it.

 

“With one match in the crowd and one in the ring…this one here could be over in only a matter of time…” Comet remarks as Bloodshed moves to the other corner and then BLASTS like a rocket toward Dace…leaping up for a HUGE splash…

 

 

 

 

*KA-RASH*

 

 

“NIGHT MOVES AGAIN!” Both announcers yell out in unison as Dace ducks down, causing Bloodshed to splash nothing but glass, causing even more to fall into and outside of the ring.

 

“You can say one thing…he has continued and continued to try and put Dace through that glass…but he just can’t seem to get it done!” Riley comments as Bloodshed falls to the canvas and then rolls to the outside, where Dace quickly follows, having gained a second or third wind.

 

Night wastes absolutely no time in pulling Bloodshed to his feet and hooking in another facelock, seeing that the table behind him would be perfect to drive his opponent to…

 

 

 

*CRASH*

 

 

“WHAT THE?!” Riley yells as the Insane Luchador lands crashes through the glass table and to the floor before Dace even gets Bloodshed off the ground. Dace and Toxx lock eyes as the Hardcore champ hops the barricade and goes for a pin on the Luchador…and the Eel is there to count…

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

*WHAM*

 

 

“Toxxic gets another pin on the Insane Luchador…and then takes Bloodshed across his back!” Comet yells out as Dace suplexs Bloodshed over and right onto Toxxic, but the pin was counted, putting the champ up 8-6. Eel climbs over the barricade himself as Dace forgets about Bloodshed for the moment and pulls Toxxic from the pile and begins hammering away with vicious elbow shots!

 

“Dace Night is attacking Toxxic! He can’t do that!!” Riley is pulling his hair out as Dace moves Toxxic towards the other table and kicks Toxxic in the gut, doubling him over and placing him in prime position. Dace locks Toxxic’s head between his legs and leans down, hooking him around the waist and lifting him into the air…

 

“POWERBOMB!”

 

“NO! NO! HE CAN’T DO THAT!” Riley screams…

 

 

*CRAAAAAASH*

 

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“HOLY (BLEEP)!” Riley yells out as Bloodshed dives from out of nowhere over top of Dace Night’s head, splashing his body on top of Toxxic’s and adding more force than reasonably neceassary to the powerbomb, driving the hardcore champion into the glass, shattering it and sending it in all directions.

 

Dace’s eyes widen at the wreckage he has caused, but only for a moment as he drags IL from his pile of glass and across the floor, draping him over the downed Toxxic.

 

“COUNT!!!”

 

Dace yells over at the Memphis Eel, who quickly follows orders…

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

“The score is 8-7 now with Toxxic still in the lead…but the Luchador looks to be going for another pin!”

 

“Can he do that?” Riley screams again and the Eel counts once more…

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

NO!!!

 

 

“Toxxic somehow kicks out and IL looks to be in shock!” Comet remarks as Dace turns his attention back to Bloodshed, who has crawled back into the ring and into the glass that still lies throughout the ring.

 

Dace grabs Bloodshed by the wrist and aims for an irish whip, but Bloodshed is able to reverse it, and as Night comes bouncing back, Bloodshed aims for a clothesline…

 

 

…DUCKED!

 

 

…Dace hits the ropes once more and Bloodshed turns, and tries for another clothesline…

 

 

…DUCKED AGAIN!

 

 

…Dace hits the ropes and uses them to make a quick stop as Bloodshed turns around once more…

 

 

*TWHACK*

 

 

“YAKUZA!” Comet yells as Bloodshed nearly has his face wiped off by the bottom of Dace’s right foot. Bloodshed falls to the mat and…

 

 

*TWHAP*

 

“BWAHAHAHA!” Riley laughs once more as Dace starts to walk across the ring, only to be tripped down by Toxxic who has slid under the bottom rope and made his presence known in the match once more.

 

“Toxxic will not leave Dace alone!” Comet interjects, but Dace seems perfectly fine with the situation, and is up to his feet and across the ring in seconds, with Toxxic hot on this trail.

 

Dace looks prepared as Toxxic rushes in and tries for a splash…

 

 

…CAUGHT!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*CRAAAASH*

 

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“BY ZEUS!” is all Comet can say as Dace catches Toxxic in mid leap and lifts him over his head, finishing in the worst way possible – for Toxxic – by tossing him over the top rope, down, and crashing right through one of the few remaining glass tables! On the other side of the ring, IL is still down and out from being hit with a Caffeine Bomb on the outside, but Toxxic went after Dace instead of going for a cover.

 

“Dace Night chose to take out Toxxic once more! I hope Grand Slam is watching this!”

 

“What can our commissioner do? This is hardcore rules on all counts!”

 

“I DON’T CARE!” Riley yells back in defense, but nothing can be done. Toxxic is actually the first to move on the outside, his body even more in distress from his second meeting with glass in less than five minutes. On the inside, Dace has seen that only one set of glass tables remain, and those sit propped up in the entranceway. Dace throws up the horns and points toward the tables as he drags Bloodshed toward the ropes.

 

“Uh oh…this could be bad for Bloodshed…” Comet remarks as Dace gets to the ropes and kicks Bloodshed over and locks in another facelock. “This could be the final nail in the glass coffin…if he hits this…”

 

“Stop being so dramatic!” Riley quips as Dace tries for a suplex over the top…

 

 

…BLOCKED!

 

 

Bloodshed hooks his leg into Night’s, causing Dace to send his arm down across his back and try once more…

 

 

…BLOCKED!

 

…Night’s face shows anger, but quickly turns to a wince of pain as Bloodshed sends his knee into Dace’s gut, causing the hold to be released. Bloodshed rushes toward the ropes and looks to clothesline Dace over the top…

 

 

…DUCKED!

 

 

Dace ducks just in time, causing Bloodshed to flail and flip wildly over the top rope and to his feet on the floor. Dace stands back up and looks to the floor, but Bloodshed slides back into the ring, straight between Dace’s legs!

 

“Bloodshed is back in the ring like a bloody flash, right through the legs of Dace Night!” Riley remarks as Bloodshed gets to his feet and Dace turns…

 

 

…right into a clothesline!

 

 

Dace flips over the top and to the floor, landing on his feet as well. Bloodshed looks to pull Dace back up and into the ring from over the top rope, but Night is ready, jumping up and grabbing Bloodshed by the neck and pulling down, choking him across the top rope and sending him backwards and down onto his back on the inside of the ring!

 

“This is just going back and forth…but Dace Night has the advantage!” Comet comments as Dace slides back into the ring and pulls Bloodshed up, looking to finish his suplex from earlier.

 

“Here we go…” Riley seems to be in his happy place as Bloodshed is lifted off his feet and into the air and toward the ropes…

 

“He’s trying to fight out! Bloodshed’s trying to fight out!” Comet exclaims as Bloodshed rocks his lower body back and forth through the air…

 

 

…and Bloodshed drops to his feet on the apron!!

 

“Bloodshed escapes once more!” Comet continues as Dace turns, fire in his eyes and looks to lariat his head clear off…

 

…DUCKED!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*KAAAA-RAAAAASSSSHHHH*

 

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

“MY GOD!” comes Riley…

 

“BY ZEUS!” counters Comet, “Bloodshed ducks the huge lariat from Dace Night and then is able to lock in an inverted facelock over the top rope, and then did the unexpected, lifting Dace off the mat and diving backwards…driving both of them through the two glass tables and that third windowpane with the Final Curtain!”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that in my life! An inverted fisherman’s buster, or that could have been just a simple suplex, off the apron and through GLASS!” Riley is in shock as Funyon makes the match official…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of the this ma-“ Funyon is suddenly cut off as a body comes over the top rope, knocking him to the ground.

 

“What the…?” Comet starts, but it soon becomes clear…

 

“IT’S LANDON MADDIX!” Riley seems overjoyed as Landon rushes toward the downed superstars, dropping over Bloodshed’s body and firing off punches into Bloodshed’s still crimson face…

 

 

~DARKNESS~

 

 

The arena suddenly drops into darkness, and the crowd goes silent…

 

~ LIGHT~

 

The lights return, and Landon is still in the same position, but Bloodshed is nowhere to be found. Landon is in sheer shock.

 

“Bloodshed has disappeared and Landon doesn’t know what to do!?

 

“What? Where did he go!” Riley gets to his feet and begins looking in all directions.

 

“Sit down, Robert…” Comet says, but suddenly the arena is cast into the eye of the storm, as thunder cracks and the sound of rain brings forth the opening acoustic riffs of Bon Jovi…

 

“What is going on now?” Riley is still confused as he sits back down, watching his monitor to see Landon watching the entranceway as ALAN CLARK, dressed in all white, steps through the curtain!

 

“BY ZEUS! It’s Alan Clark!” Comet screams, and a close-up shows a very little bit of blood on Alan’s face as he waves down to Landon before retreating backstage, leaving Landon to rush up the ramp after him and giving Sexton the space to check on Dace, who has only just begun to move on the outside.

 

“I have no idea what is going on!” Riley exclaims, and Comet seems uncaring…

 

“What’s new, Robert…” Comet says as Landon disappears backstage. “Landon needs to stop chasing Alan Clark and instead concentrate on what he is going to be doing in just a few minutes…and that is stepping into the ring against the World Champion!”

 

“You’re right! Todd Royal needs to calm Landon down!”

 

“If Landon lets Clark get into his head to the point where he loses his chance to be World Champ – then Landon is just falling for all of Clark’s mind games! That is exactly what Alan Clark wants right now!”

 

“I know, Comet…I know! Listen to Todd, Landon!”

 

“We have one final commercial break to get to, up next – Maddix vs. Matthews – WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!” Comet yells as Lockdown fades out slowly to commercial, the final shot showing Toxxic and IL continuing to fight through the crowd.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

*BOOM!*

 

*BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!*

 

THIS IS SWF LOCKDOWN: HARDCORE EDITION, AND WE ARE BACK FOR THE MAIN EVENT!

 

The camera zooms around the thousands upon thousands of fans packing the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, all AMPED~ and PUMPED~ and LOADED~ after a night of bloody, EXTREME~ action. They’re literally hanging from the rafters as we prepare for tonight’s main event!

 

“Welcome back, Citizens!” Cyclone Comet greets, “it has been an AMAZING night of action so far on SWF Lockdown, and we’re about to see a pivotal match in the war between Charlie Matthews and John Duran! It’s-“

 

“Wait, what did you just say?” Riley interrupts, “did you say Charlie Matthews and John Duran? See, it’s always people like you that slight the brightest superstars in the SWF. Charlie Matthews isn’t fighting John Duran tonight, he’s fighting Landon Maddix, the SWF’s breakout star, who’s going to bring the World Heavyweight Championship to the Unnamed!”

 

“…you didn’t let me finish, Bobbo.”

 

“That was the point.”

 

“Right. Well, as I was saying before I was interrupted, Charlie Matthews is ready to make his first World Title defense against a member of John Duran’s Unnamed and the Disciple of Todd, Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix. At first glance, this would appear to be a mismatch, but Landon has proved time and time again that he can take on anyone, and do whatever it takes to win.”

 

“Of course!” Riley agrees, “remember when he kicked Aecas’ ass back in the SJL? Good times.”

 

“Nevertheless, Bobbo, this could be a bloody cap to a bloody evening. Let’s head down to Funyon for the official introduction.”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon begins, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION HEAAAAAAVYWEIGHT CHAAAAAAAMPIONSHIP OF … THE … WORLD! In this match, there will be NOOOOOOOOO DISQUALIFICATIONS! Introducing first, the challenger!”

 

Dirty Dog

I'm, I'm a dirty dog

I'm a dirty dog

I'm, I'm a dirty dog

Dirty Dog

I'm a dirty dog

Dirty Dog

 

As the lights dim and N.E.R.D.’s “Lapdance” hits, and the crowd EXPLODES into jeers! As the song continues, blue lights hit the stage…and Landon Maddix emerges from the curtains. Noticeably missing from Maddix’s side is Megan Skye.

 

“From Huron, South Dakota,” Funyon continues, “weighing in at 210 pounds, he is a member of the Unnamed and the House of Todd, he is a former SJL Triple Crown winner, he is LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDON ‘LA CUCARACHA’ MAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIIIIIXXX!”

 

Landon continues walking a deliberate pace to the ring, a new focus etched on his face for tonight’s match. Once he reaches the ringside area he sprints and slides under the bottom rope, into the ring.

 

“And his opponent…” begins Funyon, as the lights go out.

 

You know, you could say the crowd popped like a cherry, but that’s SUCH an overused phrase.

 

Nevertheless, “Some Kind of Monster” blasts through the Wachovia Center, and the crowd reception is positive, to say the least. As a single spotlight shines on the curtain, the 6’7”, 301 pound mountain of a man appears from behind the curtain, world title firmly fastened around his waist. After a brief glance at the crowd, he begins his march down the ring.

 

“From Kansas City, Missouri, weighing in at 301 pounds, he is the S – W – F WOOOOOORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAAAAAAAAMPIOOOOOON, HE IS CHAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSSSSS!!!”

 

The crowd roars again as Matthews continues his walk to the ring, never taking his eyes off of Landon Maddix. Charlie finally reaches the ringside area and climbs up onto the ring apron, before entering the ring. As the lights come back on, Matthews unfastens his championship belt and raises it high into the air, for all in the Wachovia Center to see. With the crowd’s approval, Matthews hands the belt to referee Nick Soapdish and retreats to the opposite corner of Landon. Soapdish shows Matthews the belt, Landon the belt, and then raises it up, before handing it to the timekeeper and signaling for the match to begin!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Both men immediately advance from their corners, but once they reach the center of the ring, Landon LUNGES at the champion, trapping him in a collar-elbow tie-up! Charlie has a baffled look on his face, and he easily shoves the challenger back into the turnbuckle. Matthews backs off, allowing Maddix to brush off the jump start and walk back to the center of the ring. Before Grappler can lunge in for another tie-up, however, Maddix rears back…and slaps the taste out of Grappler’s mouth!

 

*SMACK!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

Charlie rocks back from the surprising blow, but Maddix doesn’t even give him time to respond as he nails him in the cheekbone with a hard punch! He follows it up with a kick to the gut! Another punch! Another kick! But it doesn’t last long, as Matthews is able to recover and trap his arm under Landon’s in mid-swing, lift him up, and drop him to the mat with a hiptoss! Landon, not to be outdone, gets right up to his feet, but Matthews hip locks him and delivers another hiptoss! Maddix gets up again, only to be taken down by a THIRD hiptoss!

 

“Well, Citizen Matthews certainly is taking a…fundamental approach to this match,” begins Comet, “using simply the basics to catch Citizen Maddix off his guard.”

 

“And where the hell is Megan Skye?” questions Riley, “I mean, you think she’d be most appropriate out here tonight, seeing as it’s no disqualifications and all.”

 

“Well, Bobbo, Citizen Maddix was probably concerned about Citizen Skye’s safety. Yes, ‘tis hard to believe Landon cares about ANYONE’S safety, but that’s probably the case. This contest could get real ugly, real quick.”

 

Grappler allows Maddix to get to his feet, and when he does, he wraps his left arm tight around the head of his opponent, squeezing in a headlock. Landon immediately tries to battle the hold, sending fists into Matthews’ belly, but to no avail. After Charlie milks the hold, he simply rears back with his right hand, and sends a fist right into the dome of Landon’s head, which sends shockwaves down his spine but releases him from the headlock! As Landon stumbles back, Charlie takes him by the arm and whips him towards the ropes. As he comes back, however, Maddix is able to catch Grappler off guard and leap into the air, driving his forearm right into the face of the champion! The blow causes Matthews to stumble back, and Landon takes advantage of this by leaping up and kicking his legs out, sending a dropkick into his stomach! The force of this pushes Grappler back chest-first against the turnbuckle, and La Cucaracha follows this up by running into the turnbuckle, grabbing Matthews by the head, pulling him out, and then driving him right back in, introducing Charlie’s head to the turnbuckle! He then drops down onto the mat and reaches up between Grappler’s legs, pulling him down into a schoolboy with a grab of the tights for the first pin!

 

 

”ONE!”

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

Nick Soapdish immediately detects Matthews’ shoulders rising off the canvas, with little effort on the champion’s part.

 

“Nice to see Maddix taking advantage of the stipulations,” Riley says smugly, “now THAT is a champion we can be proud of!”

 

Comet rolls his eyes, “nevertheless, a crafty series of moves by the challenger in the opening of this match.”

 

Grappler immediately rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up, but as he does this, Maddix runs to the ropes, comes back, and kicks his legs downward, hitting a SICK dropkick right to Matthews’ face! As Grappler falls to the mat again, Landon stomps on his face before charging to the ropes, rebounding, and leaping up, spinning 360 degrees and coming down onto Charlie’s neck with a twisting legdrop! Landon presses down on top of Grappler for another pin!

 

 

“ON – NO!”

 

Again, Matthews easily kicks out, this time pressing Landon off of his body WITH AUTHORITY! Charlie gets to his feet quickly, but Landon stays right on him, taking his arm and twisting around it with an arm wringer. However, Grappler easily twists out of it and applies one of his own, before using his free arm to trap Landon in a front facelock, release the arm wringer, and grab him by the tights, hoisting him upside down in the air and falling back with a vertical suplex! Matthews floats over after the move onto his knees, and grabs Maddix by the head, picking him right back up. The champion shoves La Cucaracha into the nearest corner and, lowering his head, begins peppering him with hard punches to the abdomen! After a succession, Grappler shoots one fist right up, executing an uppercut on the disciple of Todd! Satisfied, Matthews takes Landon by the head…and tosses him OVER the top rope, down to the floor!

 

“Things are about to get pretty ugly, I reckon!” notions Comet, “as the outside of the ring is NEVER a fun place to be.”

 

“Cyclone Comet, ladies and gentlemen, YOUR master of the obvious™,” chimes in Riley, sarcastically.

 

As Matthews begins coolly stepping between the ropes onto the apron, Maddix crawls over to the timekeeper’s table, his back to the champion. Charlie finally drops down off the apron and approaches Maddix, who has just tucked something down, and as Grappler looms over the challenger…

 

*DING!*

 

…Landon swings his hidden item backwards, nailing Grappler right in the face with the ring bell! Charlie immediately rocks back, and Landon gets up to his feet and swings again, nailing ANOTHER ring bell shot that pushes Grappler onto the floor and against the ring steps! Maddix drops the bell and, seeing the champion slumped against the ring steps, backs up to the other corner of the ring. With HASTE~, he charges forward, driving his knee into Matthews’ face, sandwiching his head between a knee and a hard ring step!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

As the camera sees, the forehead of the champion is now busted open, blood freely flowing from a wound. Landon, meanwhile, sees opportunity and grasps it, taking Matthews by the head and bringing him up…and rolling him back into the ring! He slides in right behind him and leaps on top in a cover, hooking the far leg as Nick Soapdish counts!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWOOOOOONOOOOOOO!”

 

Matthews gets his shoulder up, and Landon simply glares at Nick Soapdish.

 

“What a VICIOUS display by Landon Maddix!” notes Comet, “had that been later in the match, it might’ve won him the title!”

 

“Not only that,” grins Riley, “Landon took that move from John Duran! He’s sending an Unnamed message to Charlie Matthews!”

 

Nevertheless, Maddix turns Grappler over onto his stomach, and slams his forearm into the back of his head once… twice… three times! Landon then proceeds to wrap his left arm around the throat of the champ, making sure his forearm is directly across his windpipe! Maddix mounts Charlie’s back and locks his hands together, completing a rear naked choke! Grappler immediately begins struggling with the hold, as his windpipe begins to be crushed by the surprisingly strong hold of Landon Maddix. Referee Nick Soapdish continuously asks if Matthews wants to quit, but, of course, the champion responds with an emphatic ‘no.’ However, Matthews builds up the will to rise up to all fours, and then he reaches his arms around, trapping Maddix on his back! From there, he pushes up onto his feet and lunges backward, drilling Landon right into the turnbuckle and breaking the hold! Grappler moves back to the center of the ring and lowers his shoulder, ready to charge at La Cucaracha, who is winded in the corner.

 

“And this could be the opening the champion needs!” Comet points out, “finally escaping that choke and the vicious head trauma he must have gone through earlier.”

 

“Man, if he thought that head trauma was bad,” begins Riley, “just wait until he gets a taste of the Blunt Force Trauma at Battleground. But you know what? I don’t think he’ll make it there…Landon’s doing a good job kicking his ass as it is.”

 

Matthews unleashes and charges, shoulder lowered, into the corner…but Landon moves! As Grappler’s shoulder collides with the turnbuckle, he turns around, only to be trapped in a front facelock by Maddix, who proceeds to snap back and drill the champion into the canvas with a SICK snap DDT!! Landon floats right over into the cover as Nick Soapdish counts!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

“THR – NOOOOOO!!!”

 

Matthews shoots his shoulder up, much to the delight of the Wachovia Center crowd.

 

“I guess it wasn’t the advantage he needed, Comet,” Riley snickered, “see, all Landon was doing with that move was catching his breath; he was just preparing to kick Grappler’s ass a little bit more.”

 

“LAN – DON – SUCKS!”

 

“LAN – DON – SUCKS!”

 

“LAN – DON – SUCKS!”

 

The Philadelphia crowd is sure to let the challenger know how they feel about him, but Maddix could not care less as he picks Grappler up by the head and brings him to his feet. He takes the upright Matthews by the arm and actually manages to whip him across the ring, to the ropes. Charlie comes back and Landon shoots his forearm out…but Grappler ducks under the arm and wraps his own around Maddix’s neck, before sweeping his leg out and drilling him with an STO out of NOWHERE!

 

“GRA – PULL – ER!”

 

“GRA – PULL – ER!”

 

Maddix clutches his head and rolls towards a corner, while Matthews retreats to the opposite corner and slowly regains his composure. Both men get to their feet at the same time, but before La Cucaracha can even realize what’s going on, Matthews charges across the ring, and when he’s a few feet away from Maddix, he leaps into the air, coming down with a stinger splash…but Landon moves out of the way again! Grappler hits the turnbuckle and turns around, only to have Landon kick the FIELD GOAL TO END ALL FIELD GOALS BETWEEN HIS LEGS!

 

 

*CHIIIIIIING!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

Grappler howls at the moon in sheer and agonizing pain, as Landon delivers a kick so powerful, every man watching cringes and holds their own testicles! With the champion bent over, Maddix takes advantage (not that way, you sick fuck) by trapping him in a quick front facelock and cradling him down to the mat in a small package, but not before draping his legs over the nearby second rope as Nick Soapdish counts the pin!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

 

 

Somehow, Matthews is able to get his shoulder off the canvas, much to the chagrin of Maddix.

 

“Good god, I think MY little heroes hurt!” cries Comet, “Maddix is doing whatever it takes to win that World Championship, but Citizen Matthews is showing amazing resilience!”

 

“Landon Maddix has to be the greatest wrestler alive,” compliments Riley, “I mean, this guy is kicking Grappler’s ass, and he can’t even lift him up! How awesome is that?”

 

Looking for a way to finally put Grappler out for the count, La Cucaracha slides under the bottom rope and quickly lifts up the ring skirt, looking under the ring for a suitable weapon. He pulls something out, and then holds it up for all to see…

 

 

THE BOOK OF TODD!

 

 

…looking like Link holding up a new item in the Zelda series, Maddix slides back into the ring and impatiently calls for Grappler to get to his feet. The champion slowly obliges, still gingerly holding his man piece. He rises to his feet and turns to meet Maddix-

 

*BOOM!*

 

-who nails him with the Book of Todd! The shot rocks Grappler, who doesn’t fall, but Landon has a solution for this, as he drops the book (with care, of course). He then proceeds to run at Matthews, leap up, and wrap around Matthews’ body, moving into a crucifix before completing his rotation and drilling Grappler with a DDT ONTO THE BOOK OF TODD!

 

“THE NOSE JOB!” Riley cries in ecstasy, “Landon is looking to give Grappler a complete makeover! First a vasectomy, then a nose job, and then he’ll remove that belt from around his waist! This is glorious!”

 

“This certainly is incredible, Bobbo,” agrees Comet, “every time Matthews tries to mount some sort of action, Landon is there with a greater and opposite reaction!”

 

Landon AGAIN presses down on Matthews, executing another pin as Soapdish counts!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP! SHOULDER UP! The Wachovia Center breathes a collective sigh of relief as Matthews kicks out. Growing increasingly more frustrated as the match wears on, La Cucaracha decides to go the route he surprisingly has not gone on yet: via the air. With Grappler down and out on the canvas, Maddix rises to his feet and scales the nearest turnbuckle, climbing up to the top rope. Facing out towards the crowd, Maddix gives the Wachovia Center one big finger before leaping off, twisting around in mid air, and nailing a sky twister press…

 

 

…but he hits nothing but canvas as Grappler rolls out of the way! Trying to affirm any kind of advantage he can, Matthews simply crawls over Maddix, using his left arm to squeeze in a headlock and the right arm to hook a leg in a tight pin as Soapdish counts!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

And Landon kicks out! Maddix climbs right back up to his feet, not about to be flash pinned by a man he’s been pwning the entire match. Grappler is a bit slower to get up, but he does, and La Cucaracha meets him with a swift kick to the gut. Landon backs up a bit, but then hops forward and shoots his leg with a super kick…but Grappler catches the leg! Matthews pushes the leg up, which causes Maddix to back flip in mid air before dropping down to his feet! Frustrated, he runs at Matthews, but the champion craftily drops down and scissors his ankle, causing him to fall and crash head-first into the second turnbuckle Grappler was right in front of! For the third time in the match, Charlie sees Landon down against the turnbuckle, but still goes for it, despite missing the last two times. He walks over to the opposite corner, and then charges forward, SLAMMING HIS KNEE INTO THE BACK OF LANDON’S HEAD, SANDWICHING HIS HEAD AGAINST A KNEE AND A TURNBUCKLE!

 

“Ouch, my goodness!” Comet cries, “Charlie Matthews brings the pain in a similar fashion that Landon did earlier, with a knee – head – hard object sandwich, with extra mayo!”

 

“Extra mayo?” asks Riley, “…no, wait, I’m not gonna ask. Anyway, nice to see ‘third time’s a charm’ for Grappler. No, actually it isn’t. But I digress.”

 

Grappler stops after the move to catch his breath, but he swiftly moves back to the unmoving Landon and traps his arms around his stomach in a waistlock, before arching back and tossing him overhead with a RELEASE SPIDER GERMAN SUPLEX! Maddix lands on the back of his NECK, but Matthews can’t capitalize as the move took even more away from the rapidly diminishing Grappler Energy Bank™.

 

“GRA – PULL – ER!”

 

 

“GRA – PULL – ER!”

 

Regardless, the Wachovia Center fills to the brim again with chants for the World Champion, as the fans hope to drive him further into a new level of resilience and strength. Matthews slowly rises to his feet, using the ropes to pull himself up, and tries to shake the cobwebs out. He walks over to the still-grounded Cucaracha and lifts him up by the head, standing behind him. In one simple motion, with no warning, Grappler wrenches Landon’s right arm behind his back and brings his own left arm across Maddix’s throat, locking in the CROSSFACE CHICKENWING!

 

“Good golly!” Comet yells, “Charlie Matthews just came out of NOWHERE with the Crossface Chickenwing! That’s the move that won him the World Championship when he made, of all people, Va’aiga tap out! This could spell the end!”

 

“No, it won’t, Comet,” Riley says, confidently, “You said he came out of nowhere, and that’s exactly why it won’t work. Had he actually worked the arm at all, then yeah, maybe, but since he hasn’t, it’ll only serve to hurt Landon. Well, okay, touché. Whatever.”

 

Nevertheless, the Philadelphia crowd goes bezerk, collectively screaming at the top of its lungs everything from “GRA – PULL – ER!” to “YOU – GOTTA – TAP!” Maddix wriggles and struggles and fights away, but he still can’t break the master grip Matthews has on him. However, the challenger sees that he is but a few feet away from a turnbuckle, so using whatever energy he can muster, Landon hustles towards the turnbuckle, climbs up the first the first and second turnbuckles before placing both feet on the top, and then pushes back, causing him to fall on top of Matthews and arch back with a tripod pin! Grappler has been outsmarted!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

NEW CHAMPION!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…NO! Nick Soapdish waves off the count, as Matthews got his shoulder up at the very last possible tenth of a second!

 

“Unbelievable!” Comet bellows, “for a moment, I thought we had a new World Champion! How close can you possibly get? That’s the same pinning combination Taamo Flesher used to defeat Judge Mental at Genesis IV!”

 

“Nick Soapdish needs new contact lenses!” Riley moans, “that was SO obviously three! There’s no way Grappler kicked out before his hand came down. I call farce!”

 

Maddix rolls off of Matthews, holding his shoulder from the agonizing chickenwing submission. The champion, meanwhile, gets right up to his knees and then his feet, not willing to let his advantage go by the wayside because of a fluke pin. He advances towards Landon, but as La Cucaracha sees this, he immediately rolls away from Grappler, under the bottom rope and out of the ring! The crowd jeers the cowardice of the challenger, but Landon, on his feet, simply sneers at the crowd, and demands that a patron in the front row give him a weapon! The fan, who happens to be wearing an Unnamed t-shirt, happily obliges, producing…A BAGUETTE! The crowd actually cheers at this nod to Maddix’s SJL days, and he thanks the fan. However, what Landon DOESN’T realize is Charlie Matthews has exited the ring, and is standing right behind him! With malicious, French intent, La Cucaracha turns around-

 

*BOOM!*

 

-and gets NAILED with a hand of stone – like punch from the World Heavyweight Champion! Maddix rocks back a foot, shaken and stirred from the shot. However, that ain’t all, as Grappler swings for another punch…but Maddix sidesteps it! Seeing as it’s Charlie Matthews and everything, it takes him a second to register the fact that he missed a punch, so Landon takes advantage by swinging his weapon as he lets out a battle cry!

 

“Craignez la main puissante d'une baguette française!”

 

“Great Octavian’s ghost!” Comet curses, “I think Landon Maddix just told our World Champion to fear the mighty hand of a French baguette! This can’t be good!”

 

“You’re damn right, Comet!” Riley agrees, “Landon freakin’ Maddix just absolutely NAILED Grappler with a wicked baguette shot! I think we’re going to have a new champion!”

 

La Cucaracha pushes the dazed champion under the bottom rope, and back into the ring. As Charlie begins to get to his feet, Landon leaps onto the apron and holds the top rope. Grappler turns around, and Maddix vaults onto the top rope, before springboarding with his legs out, nailing the champion square in the face with a HUGE dropkick! Matthews falls right back down to the mat, and Landon drops down and hooks his leg for a pin!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

“THR – NOOOOO!”

 

 

Grappler gets his shoulder up, and the Wachovia Center lets out another cheer. However, this time, Landon doesn’t get frustrated; instead, he lifts Charlie up into a sitting position and lifts Matthews’ left arm up, wrapping his own right arm around Grappler’s arm and neck, executing a STRETCH PLUM!

 

“A stretch plum?” Comet asks, “I don’t think we’ve EVER seen Maddix execute that submission! Grappler could very well be choked out in a matter of minutes!”

 

“Pssh, he won’t last that long,” snipes Riley, “There’s also a sex joke in there somewhere, but I’m not looking to find it. Right now, I just want to see Matthews tap out to Landon Maddix. Glorious, glorious I say!”

 

Now it is Landon’s turn to wrench in on a submission, as he simultaneously overextends Matthews’ left arm and chokes him out. The Wachovia Center crowd feverishly tries to fuel Grappler’s fire, with chants of “LET’S – GO – GRAPP – LER!” *clap – clap – clap-clap-clap* echoing throughout the arena. Charlie tries to squirm out of the move, but Landon shows remarkable strength in holding Grappler down in the stretch plum. However, this doesn’t last long, as the champion begins sliding slowly on the mat, closer to the ropes…and he’s able to drape his right leg over the bottom rope, causing Landon to relinquish the hold! The crowd explodes, but Maddix is less than thrilled; in fact, he’s really pissed off. Maddix slides under the bottom rope to the outside while Matthews lays out on the mat. Landon looks under the ring and pulls something out…

 

 

…it’s a chair!

 

 

(Note: above statement only applies if your name is Tony Schiavone). The weapon is, in fact, a table, and the Pennsylvanians let out a roar as the hardware is slid into the ring, Landon in tow! La Cucaracha quickly sets the table up and places it near a corner of the ring. As he does this, Matthews begins to get to his feet, so the challenger rushes over and kicks him square in the gut! With the champ doubled over, Maddix grabs him by the arm and whips him towards the ropes…but Grappler spins around and reverses it! Landon hits the ropes and rebounds, and as he does, Grappler ducks down and grabs him around the waist, spinning around and looking to drive Maddix right through the table with a spinebuster…but Landon drives a well-timed punch right into Matthews head, stopping him in mid-move and causing him to drop Landon!

 

“I think that just showed,” Comet begins, “how much this match has taken on poor Grappler’s head. The ring bell, the knee sandwich, the stretch plum, the baguette…and now, a single punch from a man one hundred pounds lighter dazes him.”

 

“This has just been brilliant strategy by Mr. Maddix,” replies Riley, “or, should I just start calling him Champ already? It just seems like the right thing to do.”

 

Maddix fires off two more punches to Matthews’ head, and then nails him with two HARD kicks to the solar plexus! With the champ out of it, Landon traps him in a front facelock and looks to fall back with a DDT through the table, but Charlie won’t go down! The crowd roars as Matthews uses his position to lift Maddix up into the air, and drop him right back down across his knee with an inverted atomic drop! La Cucaracha gingerly holds his man parts as Charlie takes him by the head and walks him to the other side of the table, closer to the turnbuckle. He then stands behind Landon and ducks under his arm, lifting him up like a back suplex and draping him across the top rope! As the buzz from the crowd intensifies, Matthews climbs up to the second rope and lifts his opponent up, setting him up for the DAMNDEST back superplex one did ever see! Instead, though, we see

 

“Oww, my eye!”

 

…as Landon reaches back and rakes his fingers across the eyes of the champion! Landon shoots back two more punches, dazing the champ, and then reaches back and traps Matthews in an inverted facelock! Without even looking, Maddix shoots his legs backwards and leaps out, BRINGING MATTHEWS DOWN WITH A FALLING REVERSE DDT FROM THE TOP ROPE AND THROUGH THE TABLE!!!!!!

 

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“They’re quite right, Bobbo!” remarks Comet, “that was spectacular! I’m not in the Landon Maddix fan club, but that move just made my heart jump up into my nasal cavity!”

 

“He truly is amazing, Comet,” replies Riley, dreamy eyed, “the man who dethroned Charlie Matthews in his first title defense…plus, the move wasn’t bad, either.”

 

Grappler lies, unmoving, amongst the table shards, with Landon just inches away. Soapdish checks to make sure both men are still alive, but as soon as he does, Maddix simply rolls over…and drapes his arm over Grappler! Soapdish counts, with the entire crowd on their feet with anticipation!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…JESUS CHRIST, MATTHEWS GOT THE SHOULDER UP! HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?!

 

 

“HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?!” Comet wonders aloud. Right.

 

In complete shock, Maddix reaches across Charlie’s body and this time hooks a leg, demanding Soapdish count again!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

ANOTHER SHOULDER UP! This time, Landon pounds the mat in frustration, shouting at Nick Soapdish. Nevertheless, he slides under the bottom rope, and walks over to the timekeeper’s table, pulling the chair right out from under the timekeeper himself! He slides back into the ring with his weapon, and has to ‘help’ Matthews up to his feet by his head. As he gets up and slumps against the turnbuckle, Landon walks back a few steps and swings like Sammy Sosa, looking to crack the very foundation of Matthews’ skull, but it’s DUCKED! Matthews ducks under Landon’s swinging arms and stands back to back with him, lacing his arms through Maddix’s and dropping down, bringing him over with a surprise backslide!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 

Unable to believe that Matthews is able to counter ANYTHING at this point, Landon rolls off of his shoulders and rises to his feet, as Matthews barely brings himself to rest against the second rope. Maddix runs and drives his knee into the back of Charlie’s neck, adding insult to injury. He pulls Grappler into an upright position and wraps his arm around his neck, standing face to face with him.

 

 

“He’s going for it all!” Riley calls, “screw the middle rope garbage, Landon’s just going for a straight down, new champ Crash Landon! Sayonara, Grapster!”

 

As Maddix scissors his leg around Charlie’s, the champ some how, some way, shoots his left arm up and drills him with an elbow smash to the face! And a second! A third! Landon releases his hold as Grappler backs up a few steps, and then lunges forward, driving a FOURTH elbow smash into Maddix which finally takes him down to the mat!

 

“LET’S – GO – GRAPP – LER!”

 

“LET’S – GO – GRAPP – LER!”

 

Matthews is barely able to stand on his own two feet, but he brings Landon back up…and shuts him out with a front facelock.

 

The crowd goes insane.

 

Grappler looks to the crowd, and then grabs Landon by the waist and hoists him into the air, ready to give him the loudest Wake Up Call in history!

 

“IT’S TIME FOR THE WAKE UP CALL!” Comet announces, “Citizen Maddix, I hope you have your shower ready, you’re going to need it once you get hit with this!”

 

Matthews pivots around…and LANDON DROPS BEHIND HIM! Before Grappler can even turn around, Landon rushes to the nearest turnbuckle and scales it to the second rope, and as Charlie turns around, he leaps off, grabbing him around the neck and spinning, completing the Crash Landon!

 

 

 

BUT HE DOESN’T, as Grappler stops him in mid air by wrapping his arms tightly around Maddix’s waist, in almost a bearhug! The crowd explodes some more as Charlie holds him in this position, and then charges forward, spearing La Cucaracha HARD into the turnbuckle! Charlie backs out and, feeding off whatever adrenaline he has left, he ducks down and lifts Maddix onto his shoulders in an inverted fireman’s carry! The crowd just can’t stop exploding!

 

 

“Wait…” Riley begins, “you don’t think he’s…is he really gonna do this?”

 

“This is astounding!” Comet notes, “I think you’re right, Bobbo, I really think he’s going to…”

 

Matthews face is bloody and beaten, but the entire arena, and everyone watching at home, can see him mouth “DURAAAAAAAAAAN!” as he spins Landon’s legs around, dropping down with a vertebrae-snapping neckbreaker known as the BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!!!!!!! As Maddix bounces off the mat, Grappler can only drape an arm over his body as Nick Soapdish counts, the entire Wachovia Center counting along!

 

 

 

 

“ONE!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Funyon announces, over the earth-rumbling roar of the crowd, “THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, AND STILL S – W – F HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD, CHAAAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!”

 

“What a MATCH!” Comet exults, “Charlie Matthews just won what was, in my opinion, one of the hardest matches of his career! Landon Maddix took him to his absolute limit!”

 

“This is a travesty!” Riley cries, “he stole John Duran’s finisher! Not only that, but Landon kicked his ass the entire match! What the hell does Grappler eat? He’s almost inhuman!”

 

“Another thing worth noting,” Comet adds, “is that Matthews didn’t resort to a single weapon shot or low blow throughout the match! We have a champion with INTEGRITY!”

 

Matthews doesn’t move as “Some Kind of Monster” begins playing again, but Nick Soapdish walks over and retrieves the World Championship, handing it to Matthews. Grappler finally rolls off of Landon and takes the belt, only getting to his knees and holding it up in the air for all to see.

 

“GRA – PULL – ER!”

 

“GRA – PULL – ER!”

 

“This has been an amazing night, Citizens,” says Comet, "I believe Landon Maddix has rocketed into the stratosphere, loss or not, and Charlie Matthews is STILL your World Heavyweight Champion. I would like to thank you for watching, but... this night isn't over yet!"

 

"And with any luck, Toxxic can knock off IL and wash the sour taste of this match out of my mouth," Bobby grumbles.

 

"So friends in the production truck, hold that copywrite notice! We'll be back to wrap up Lockdown after this short commercial break!"

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

“What a fantastic main event that was!” Cyclone Comet calls as the winner’s music fades away. “With some moments I don’t think any of us expected, but now we have to take you back to the match we started the show with - Toxxic vs Insane Luchador! These two men have been at each others’ throats for around two hours now, and as yet neither man has managed to achieve the magic tenth fall!”

“I did wonder how they’ve managed to keep going past the main event itself, Comet,” Bobby Riley interjects. “But then I realised; Insane Luchador is an attention whore, and Toxxic just damn well deserves to be there!”

“There may be something in what you say, Robert,” Comet replies, his tone making it clear that he really doesn’t think there is, “but in any case; the last time we saw a pinfall take place on camera it was during the Dace Night vs Alan Clark match, where both Citizens Rickmen and Toxxic added another to their tally, making the score 8-7 in the defending champion’s favour! Cameras have been tracking the pair backstage, but since that time there has been NO further score, and now we’ll go over to our live feed-”

“No need, Comet!” Bobby Riley yells, standing up and pointing through the crowd. “HERE THEY COME!”

 

Sure enough, staggering through the crowd come two familiar figures with another rather larger figure in a spangly white jumpsuit following them. Andrew Rickmen is in control as the pair approach the ring area and the Philadelphia crowd go WILD as the Insane Luchador throws Toxxic into and over the guardrail! The gasping Straight-Edge Sensation tries to pull himself upright, only to see the challenger perch precariously for a moment atop the guard rail and then launch himself off, catching Toxxic high on the chest with a crossbody that would make Ricky Steamboat proud! Cradling the leg, Rickmen waits for the Memphis Eel to clumsily vault the rail and get into position...

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEE-kickout!

 

“What!?” Comet yelps, clearly as startled as Rickmen. “That was a looooooooong two-count! If the Eel had been in shape he’d have got there in plenty of time to count the three!”

“Well then, maybe our beloved Commissioner should have assigned a fitter person to be the referee!” Bobby Riley snaps. “It’s quite simple my malodorous masked madman - every problem with this match, and indeed the SWF in general, comes back to land squarely in Mark Stevens’ lap!”

 

Clearly upset with the Elvis impersonator’s ruling Rickmen bounces upright as quickly as anyone can who’s been wrestling hardcore for two hours and gets right into the quiffed official’s face. Staying true to his roots the Eel backs away, begging off with terror dimly visible behind his stupidly large shades. Rickmen is having none of it however, and reaches back ready to punch the Eel’s quivering lower lip through his greasy skull - but then reality slowly reasserts itself, and the challenger turns back to the task in hand as the Memphis Eel breathes a huge sigh of relief.

 

Toxxic is only just beginning to stir, the crossbody having not only winded him but also caused further pain to his troublesome ribs. Rickmen grabs his opponent by his spiky black hair and hauls him upright, not without some effort, then hooks in a front facelock. The Insane Luchador pauses for a moment, bracing himself for what is to come - then arches backwards, taking Toxxic over onto the protective mats with a snap suplex! The impact is less than usual since Rickmen’s back was hurt earlier, preventing him from getting the full whip on the move and causing the challenger considerable pain himself - but now Toxxic is flat on his back parallel with the ring, and there’s only one thing in Rickmen’s mind. Holding his back, the Insane Luchador seeks to justify his name by climbing up onto the ring apron, where he waits for a moment... takes a deep breath... and dives off.

 

“Frog splash!” Comet calls as the Insane One sails through the air...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

“Which misses!” Riley calls in delight as Toxxic just manages to roll aside, causing Rickmen to crash and burn on the arena floor! Reacting as quickly as he can Toxxic crawls over to his writhing opponent and hooks a leg...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Nine-seven!” Comet calls as the Memphis Eel’s flyswatter lands for the third time. “The champion only has to pick up one more fall and he has retained his title in what has to be the most brutal match we have seen in a long, long time in the SWF!”

“Come on Toxxic, you can do it...” Riley urges. Toxxic hooks the leg again...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE-kickout!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!”

“RICK-MEN!”

“RICK-MEN!”

“RICK-MEN!”

 

The Wachovia Center comes ALIVE as the Philly fans really start to get behind the bleeding Insane Luchador! Unable to believe his inability to put the challenger away Toxxic slumps back against the guard rail for a few moments, chest heaving and ribs aching. Finally the rookie shakes his head to clear the cobwebs and starts moving again - towards the ring. Limping slightly and still half-doubled over, Toxxic hobbles around the edge of the ring until his finds what he is looking for.

 

A window pane left over from Clark/Dace.

 

“RAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!”

 

This is Philly, so the crowd doesn’t really care who brings the hardcore, as long as it damn well gets brought! Dragging his new friend on its edge behind him Toxxic starts off back towards where he left Rickmen, but as he looks up he sees that the floor space by the entrance ramp is now clear of bleeding wrestlers. Cautiously the Brit sets down his window pane and looks around, fists raised ready to defend himself against attack...

 

*THUD!!*

 

...but Rickmen drops on him from above, sending the champion sprawling against the guardrail!

 

“RICK-MEN!”

“RICK-MEN!”

“RICK-MEN!”

 

“Amazing!” Comet yells as the Philly fans start chanting again. “Citizen Rickmen had crept into the ring and just hit that devastating plancha onto Citizen Toxxic! It was an all-or-nothing gamble, and it paid off big-time!”

So you say, Comet, but first he has to pin the man...” Riley counters.

 

But that’s not what Rickmen has in mind. Reaching down the challenger picks up Toxxic’s window pane and raises it in both hands, before bringing it down...

 

*KER-SSSMAAASSSHH!!*

 

...right onto Toxxic’s head! The Straight-Edge Sensation flops sideways, glass glittering between the spikes of his hair and with his scalp well and truly lacerated! However, as the volume in the Wachovia Center starts to rise the Insane Luchador neglects to go for the pin, instead pulling the dazed champion upright again. Dragging him back towards the entrance ramp, Rickmen pauses for a moment to bounce Toxxic’s skull off the ringpost, then locks in a full nelson. The crowd start to rise in their seats, guessing at what is to come...

 

...and Rickmen runs towards the apron, vaults up to it and then comes spinning back around and down, driving Toxxic’s face straight down into the mats!

 

*WHAM!!*

 

“BRINK OF INSANITY!” Comet screams as the Wachovia Center ERUPTS. “That single move might win Citizen Rickmen the title!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“Nine-eight! It’s back to nine-eight!” Comet gasps as the Memphis Eel raises a confirming three fingers.

“Come on Toxxic, get up!” Riley yells at the stationary champion. Rickmen drops back down into the pin again...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

“NINE-ALL!” the masked superhero screams as the Eel’s flyswatter connects with the floor three times again. “One more three-count and we have a new and wholly deserving Hardcore Gamer’s Champion!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEE-kickout!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“YES!” Bobby Riley screams, jumping up in his seat. “There’s still life in that Straight-Edger, my friend!”

“Incredible!” Comet agrees. “Trailing by two falls Citizen Rickmen went for one big move to try and win outright, and he was so close to succeeding!”

 

Unable to believe his luck, Rickmen wastes no time or energy in berating the Memphis Eel; instead the Insane Luchador hooks Toxxic’s far leg and rolls all his weight onto the blood-soaked champion’s shoulders...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEE-kickout!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“What does Citizen Rickmen have to do?” Comet asks rhetorically as the challenger rolls off his opponent again, a blank expression on his face. “What does either man have to do here? It’s tied at nine-all, and nothing is working!”

 

Rickmen pulls himself up on the guardrail, shrugging off the encouraging pats he receives from the fans. The Insane Luchador is aching virtually all over, but it takes a hell of a lot to stop Andrew Rickmen from wrestling and fighting for what he wants. So the challenger turns and heads back for the ring, seeking some weapon he could use to turn the tables. Lifting the ring apron Rickmen peers underneath - and finds, appropriately enough, a table.

 

“Comet, two hours of hardcore brawling, a pane of glass and a Brink Of Insanity to the outside haven’t been enough to put Toxxic away,” Riley says as the Insane Luchador hauls the piece of wood out and starts carting it towards his fallen opponent. “Why does Rickmen think that a table will do the trick?”

“Robert, the champion has been beaten up quite badly,” Comet reasons. “A table might do it. Besides, this is Citizen Rickmen we’re talking about, and we both know how inventive he can get...”

 

Rickmen seems intent on getting very inventive indeed. Dragging the table right past Toxxic the Insane One hauls it roughly two-thirds of the way up the entrance ramp, where he stops and starts setting it up. With the table legs locked and ready for action turns and spies his prey. The Hardcore Champion is starting to struggle upright again, but as he gets to his knees Rickmen just nails him in the side of the head with a kick! Toxxic goes down again, but by grabbing him under the armpits Rickmen manages to drag his opponent up the ramp towards the table. Then the Insane Luchador repositions his hold and tries to lift...

 

“Ha ha!” Riley laughs as Rickmen stops, pain wracking his face. “He’s set all this up and now he can’t lift Toxxic! Rickmen’s back is too messed up!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Robert...” Comet says quietly.

 

Gritting his teeth, Rickmen tries again... and although purple spots flash in front of the challenger’s eyes he manages to hoist Toxxic up and dump the Straight-Edge Sensation on the table, instantly quietening Bobby Riley! As a nation gives silent thanks to the champion Rickmen looks around at the crowd - then points to the top of the SmarkTron!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR!!”

 

“Oh no...” Comet breathes. “Rickmen, don’t do it!”

“He’s not doing what I think he’s doing is he?” Riley quavers.

“I fear so, my faithful sidekick - the Insane Luchador is going climbing!”

 

Amazingly Riley lets the “sidekick” comment go as Rickmen begins to climb up the access ladder on the side of the SmarkTron. The challenger goes slowly at first, his injuries seeming to pain him, but as he gets into his stride his pace quickens and within ten seconds Rickmen has reached the top. Grinning wildly the Luchador edges out across the top of the huge screen that itself shows his every move. Finally as he reaches dead centre Rickmen stops and turns to face away from the Philly crowd.

 

“This is bad,” Riley murmurs. “This is so bad...”

 

Rickmen visibly takes a deep, deep breath... then flips backwards off the SmarkTron!

 

“LEAP OF FAITH!” Comet screams as Rickmen’s body descends through the air deceptively slowly, heading with deadly accuracy for the table with Toxxic’s prone figure on...

 

*KERRRR-RRRRRRRAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!!*

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“Merciful Zeus!” Comet yells hoarsely as the cameras focus in on the wreckage. “Rickmen did it! He moonsaulted off the top of the SmarkTron!”

“...and he missed!” Riley suddenly orgasms. “Look! Toxxic moved at the last second!”

 

[ACTION REPLAY]

Rickmen flips backwards off the SmarkTron, descending with deadly accuracy - but at the last moment before impact this camera angle catches the Hardcore Champion suddenly coming to his senses, realising his peril and rolling off the table! Moments later Rickmen crashes through the table, missing his opponent by a few scant but incredibly important inches...

[/ACTION REPLAY]

 

Sure enough the Straight-Edge Sensation is moving, unlike Andrew Rickmen. Crawling desperately up the ramp Toxxic reaches the impact site and rolls the Insane Luchador out of the wreckage, hooks a leg and leans into a cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING! DING!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms as Lostprophets’ ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ blasts out over the Wachovia Center PA system, “and STILL SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion... TOX-XIIIIC!!”

 

With blood streaming down his face the rookie manages to struggle to his feet. The Brit is unsteady, but as he wobbles referees come running out from the back. Head referee Anthony Michael Hall holds the SWF HGC belt, which he hands to Toxxic along with his ICTV title. As Ced Ordonez and Matthew Kivell start checking on Andrew Rickmen Michael Hall looks into Toxxic’s eyes, apparently checking the straight-edger for signs of concussion.

 

“What an amazing match!” Comet says in disbelief. “It was hard-fought, it was brutal, it was bloody, it was death-defying! It went right down to the wire: Nine falls each over a TWO HOUR time period, but in the end the Insane Luchador overreached himself. He got a big payoff from that one big move, the Brink Of Insanity, and he looked to repeat his success and totally wipe Toxxic out with a Leap Of Faith. However the challenger’s injuries slowed him down enough for Toxxic to move out of the way, and although I dislike the man I can’t really argue that he didn’t deserve the win today - but I am sure Rickmen will be back!”

“Oh come on, Comet, Toxxic far outclassed Rickmen!” Riley argues. “He only gave up all those falls to make it exciting for the viewers at home!”

“You believe what you want to believe, Robert,” Comet says simply. “Personally, I think I know Toxxic well enough to say that he wouldn’t be taking any more pain that he could avoid!”

 

At the top of the ramp Andrew Rickmen has now regained his feet, albeit rather unsteadily, as referees check him out as well. Swelling with importance the Memphis Eel takes Toxxic’s left arm, the one that holds the Hardcore Title belt, and raises it into the air...

 

...then suddenly spins Toxxic around to face him!

 

*KICKWHAMSTUNNER!!*

 

“Neptune’s Shadow!” Comet laughs. “The Memphis Eel just Stunnered Toxxic!”

 

The Philly crowd go WILD as the Eel flips off the fallen double champion, but the cheers turn to jeers as the Eel starts to do a very very bad hip-swivelling dance that resembles Evil Presley only in the way that a BigMac resembles steak. Hearing his reception fading away the Eel raises both middle fingers and flips off the crowd as well - then turns to Rickmen!

 

*KICKWHAMSTUNNER!!*

 

“What!?” Comet cries in shock. “The Eel just got Rickmen too!”

“Eel! Eel!” Riley yells delightedly. “That’s what he is, Comet! He’ll turn on ya! He’s an Eel, ya can’t trust him!”

“Well SWF fans - this been an amazing, shocking and truly violent night!” Comet says, apparently deciding to cut his losses. “Join us next time!”

 

As the cameras cut away from the announce team the Memphis Eel begins his god-awful hip-swivelling dance again as the Philly crowd just CRAPS all over the special guest referee’s antics. Past the Elvis impersonator’s left shoulder real referee and ex-wrestler Ced Ordonez can be seen limbering up, ready to put the impostor in his place... but a hand on his arm pulls him back. Toxxic and Rickmen push themselves back to their feet and, wobbling slightly, start to advance as one on the gyrating buffoon, an evil glint in their collective eyes as we...

 

FADE OUT

 

A Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Production

Copyright 2004

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

As the main event finishes, we fade into one last, quick shot of the commissioner's office. "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens is already on the phone, looking somewhat... nervous? Once again, we hear one half of an intersting conversation...

 

"...look, I know we haven't talked for a long time, and we were never all that close. But, I guess... it's association, I suppose. I've always looked out for my friends, and I know you're a good man. You've worked in the back before, so I know you could handle the responsibility."

 

...

 

"Well, it would probably last a month or two at the very least."

 

...

 

"Yes... yes. Total power. I'd still have the authority, but being away means I'm in no position to really do anything. You'd have complete control of day-to-day operations."

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

"So you'll do it, then? Excellent. No, really. I'll fly out to Jersey earlier than everyone else, so we can get the legal paperwork sorted out."

 

...

 

"Alright, I'll talk to you later, then."

 

...

 

"No, thank you."

 

And once again, the commissioner hangs up the phone. We see one closing glimpse of Mark Stevens face, which seems... less confident than his phone call. The expression on his face tells the world he isn't sure about the concession he's just made, even if he can't tell the world until Smarkdown.

 

Mark Stevens looks down, and so does the camera, to a peice of paper reading "I, Mark Stevens, hereby transfer all power of the commissioner's office, in name and in jurisdiction, to the interim commissioner of ______________ until a date to be specified later," as we fade to black...

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

Great show, even though there was a promo drought, it seemed. But oh well, the matches look fantastic, and congrats to all the winners, especially the new tag champs, who won in a very close match, and Toxxic, who seems to have put on one hell of a Street Fight. Oh, and it's a real bummer about Mark, too. As for the rest of the results -- read the show, you bastards.

 

The card will be up later tonight, but it's my first one, so be patient.