Losing match thread~!

[The Ill One 0]

(The camera comes back to life revealing the very alive and crowd with only bloodlust on their mind! There’s no doubt that energy runs through out the Wachovia Center in good old Philadelphia! Various fans are shown as the camera staggers down through out the crowd until it reaches right in front of the announcer’s table where Cyclone Comet and Riley bicker).

 

“I mean what if their hair gets entangled in the cage? Huh? Never thought of that, did you? All filled with your blood lust, it’s despicable. Or what if their fingers get caught? I mean I’d rather go through a pane of glass before I get jammed fingers. Those son-of-bitches KILLS,” Riley says while Cyclone rolls his eyes.

 

“Anyway we are back for this, uh, interesting version of Lockdown. But as if tonight wasn’t special enough we have one of the most unique stipulations to ever grace the SWF,” Comet sells the upcoming match but there’s no need.

 

“Oh I feel so sorry for the custodians… all the bloodstains to clean up. Those are so tough to get out,” Riley comments.

 

Comet stares at Riley before slowly shaking his head and continuing, “Anyway folks we have our Hardcore Champion AND ICTV champion taking on Citizen Andrew Rickmen… also known as the Insane Luchador! This match will be an Ironman match to an extent; the falls can happen anywhere in the arena, the hardcore belt is on the line, and the first to ten wins- no matter how long it takes to get to ten!” Comet explains.

 

Riley butts in. “Yeah, well, I think it’s a given Toxxic will win. He’s more extreme than the Insane Luchador,” Riley pauses and hears a small “BULL-SHIT” chant catch on. He ignores it.

 

“Well I don’t agree either but Citizen Toxxic and Citizen IL aren’t strangers. IL lost his ICTV title to Toxxic and the two have reported to have heated conversations. As talented as Toxxic is, he sure doesn’t make friends,” Comet says.

 

“Yeah, well, whatever Comet, let’s get to the BLOOD! I mean I personally can’t wait to see Luchador be defeated again! It warms my heart, it just warms my heart.” Riley nods.

 

Comet listens to his headset and mutters something. “Apparently the two are in the area they decided to start this match up. It starts on the outside, ends on the inside, basically.”

 

With that remark the screen changes to showing a hyped Insane Luchador, a cocky Toxxic, and a scared Memphis Eel, who is slowly scooting towards Toxxic. The camera pulls back and they are in the outside parking lot! The rarely used parking lot has about five cars surrounding the SWF wrestlers and the arena is about twenty five feet away.

 

“Oh come on, IL can’t harm a fly!” Riley insists.

 

Luchador stands tall and immediately begins to taunt at Toxxic. IL wears his usual baggy khaki cargoes, a belt with two rows of somewhat dull metal spikes, the usual black, worn down skate shoes, and to top it all off- a black with jagged red “ML PRIDE” shirt. Toxxic responds with quick trash talk also and the two walk towards each other as if they were high school boys. Cautiously the cameraman gets closer.

 

“Bitch, don’t you realize I have both belts?” Toxxic quips as he shoves the Insane Luchador. IL takes it and keeps listening as Toxxic shoves him again!

 

“Very unusual for the Insane Luchador to not fight by now…” Comet says, wondering what’s going on.

 

Toxxic’s on an incoherent rant as he continues to shove Luchador back and back towards one of the cars. Finally the baggy shorts, New Rocker wrestling boots, and blue spiked hair Toxxic shoves his opponent against the side of a beat down, black car. He throws a right but Luchador evades it and grabs Toxxic by his head! He quickly brings it against the top of the car. Toxxic reels back and he bumps into the Memphis Eel who officially calls the match to start. Luchador takes a step towards Toxxic’s who’s already swinging with a wide hook! But Andrew Rickmen’s on his game tonight as he makes blocking look easy, swatting the hook away with bringing his left forearm in the way. Within that millisecond he nails a straight punch right to Toxxic’s mouth! His head whips back and IL grabs his neck tightly, picking him up slightly.

 

“Hey that’s a choke!” The Eel quickly protests and starts a quick count. Luchador turns his head and gives the special guest referee a venomous look and he quickly shuts up, slowing down the count.

 

Luchador then spins around and slams Toxxic’s back against the car. Within a split second he gets smashed in the nose with a forearm! He collapses to all fours and IL quickly fishes into his cargoes pocket. Suddenly he pulls out a key, to the confusion of everybody, and he stands behind the trunk. His opponent is already to one knee and gasping to regain his breath. Suddenly IL flips open the trunk and just laughs like the sick, twisted manic he is. The fans all wait in anticipation as Toxxic gets to both feet, grabbing Luchador’s shoulder from behind! Suddenly the Luchador whirls around and-

 

“OH! Toxxic gets nailed right in the face with that glass tube!” Comet cries out while he watches the glass fly everywhere back in the arena.

 

Toxxic clutches the face where the glass shattered and he staggers back. Andrew Rickmen’s arms fly back into the trunk, to come back up with a kendo stick! The fans pop loudly back in the arena as the Insane Luchador lunges out to smack Toxxic. But the HGC champ isn’t stupid and he catches it with both hands! Andrew tries to tug the kendo stick out of Toxxic’s grip but he pulls Toxxic closer to! The ICTV and HGC champ takes advantage of this by throwing up a kick that crashes straight into IL’s jaw! Luchador lets go of the kendo stick and Toxxic swings it from the end he caught. Smoothly he flips the kendo stick in the air and catches it by the handle, then smacks it straight into his opponent’s face! IL bends down slightly while grabbing his face only to have the kendo stick slammed into his back! He shoots back up, one hand grabbing the back, back arched. Hitting the hat trick Toxxic nails his enemy one more time right in the chest!

 

 

“These loyal fans are already jeering their hearts out and the match, heck show, has barely begun!” Comet fishes for a good comment.

 

Toxxic waits for the Insane Luchador to stop stumbling around. He goes for another swing-

 

“But Citizen Luchador ducks and shoots up with a dropkick! Toxxic’s down!” Comet doesn’t bother keeping even remotely unbiased.

 

Toxxic smacks against the cement and Luchador’s quick to grab at him. He tugs him to his feet and then hits a simple right hook. Toxxic stumbles back and the Insane Luchador leaps out with a knee to the gut! He quickly stands behind Toxxic and hits the headlock, pointing to the car’s side! The fans go crazy as Luchador charges and lets Toxxic’s head smash through the passenger’s glass window!

 

“Geesus, they have a whole show to go…” Riley comments about the already brutal match up.

 

Toxxic’s dazed for sure but he’s already starting to tug his aching head out from the car. But the Insane Luchador leaps just right, landing very cautiously on the half-opened trunk which slams shut.

 

“Well aren’t we Mr. Smooth?” Riley’s voice drips sarcasm.

 

Luchador takes a step back and tries to get a running start for the leap, but Toxxic’s already pulled himself out, glass pieces stuck within his hair, and waiting! Before Rickmen can do a damn thing Toxxic’s arm swipes out and grabs Luchador’s ankle, tugging, and sending Luchador falling backwards flat onto the cement! In an amusing visual Luchador’s legs remain draped over the car trunk and Toxxic assumes he’s knocked silly for the moment. He hops onto the trunk and peers down- only to keep a mule kick right in the knee! Toxxic’s knee buckles and Luchador quickly rolls backwards, getting to his feet. Within a split second IL jumps out grabbing Toxxic and tugging him down. Face first the HGC/ICTV champion smacks against the cement and he audibly groans. Luchador stares down for a second and tugs up Toxxic, guiding the dazed opponent towards the arena. Memphis Eel follows them from behind with extreme caution. Suddenly Toxxic elbows IL’s ribs and grabs his wrist, whipping him at the arena doors!

 

“Luchador smacks against the doors and luckily they’re push and not pulled because they swing open while IL stumbles in,” Riley gives play-by-play.

 

Toxxic has a cocky smirk on his face as he jogs over to the swinging shut arena doors, kicking one back open for a little added panache. He towers above the Insane Luchador and swoops down, grabbing him by his hair. After quickly tugging him up he uses a simple knee to the face to knock his opponent right back down. He grabs both of Luchador’s arms and forces him to his feet. With a knee to the gut IL doubles over and gets caught with both arms hooked into the air. He hits the drop for double armed DDT! Toxxic makes a cover!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!” “This isn’t fair!” Comet yells.

 

“THREE!” “What a quick count!”

 

“Winner of the first pin fall… TOOOOXXIIICC!” Comet objects.

 

He gets to his knees and looks around. Along stretch of hallway in front of him with some unmarked and some marked doors, he could turn either left which gives him access to other hallways and near the arena’s concession area! Or he could turn right into a hallway that apparently leads to a door besides the hallways that branch off. He looks back down at Insane Luchador but he’s not there! Toxxic nearly has a heart attack as he sees out of the corner of his eye a blur-

 

“Eck!” Riley yells as the crack of a wickedly good punch nails Toxxic jaw from the side.

 

Luchador grabs Toxxic by the back of his neck. He quickly applies the pressure point that’s right below the ears and causes Toxxic to begin to fall to one knee.

 

“Hey! Is that legal?” Riley questions.

 

But Toxxic sends two elbows to IL’s ribs and Luchador lets up for a second which allows him to escape. He quickly looks around for any weapon in desperation. Seeing the fire extinguisher Toxxic grabs for it, prying it off the wall. He whirls around and nails Luchador square in the noggin with it! He stumbles back after the attack and suddenly is engulfed by the white fumes! Toxxic is relentless, or trigger happy, as he continues to spray while IL puts out his arms in defense but dodges the stream. He quickly retreats down the hallway with the numerous doors as he tries to clear up his eyes. Toxxic charges, his weapon held high with both hands, and yells. Luchador looks up and throws out a side kick that sends Toxxic screeching to a halt. His arms lower which leave his face wide open for a palm strike to the nose! The HGC champion drops the fire extinguisher as he clutches his nose. Luchador grabs his opponent’s head and simply smacks it against the close cement wall! Toxxic crumbles and he falls to all fours. Luchador grabs him, tugging him up, and then grabbing the closest door knob. He opens it up to reveal Grand Slam Mark Stevens’ office! The fans pop wildly as Grand Slam shoots out of his swivel chair and backs away. Like dogs fighting you don’t want to try to break this one up.

 

“Oh and nobody’s safe from this nasty brawl tonight apparently, not even our outstanding Boss!” Comet says.

 

Toxxic leaps to his feet and the two just engage in a slew of punches going back and forth, slowly pushing towards Mark’s cluttered desk. But Toxxic nails an especially nasty hook that sends Luchador reeling back. With an elbow to the face IL is forced to slightly turn and that allows Toxxic to grab him and throw him against the wall! Luchador smacks head first into the air and shatters through a glass framed picture of the Carnies all standing triumphantly in the ring.

 

“Oh come on!” Stevens roars in disapproval as Toxxic slowly turns to him and smirks. He advances towards the desk and grabs the steel trash can, simply chucking it at the Insane Luchador! It goes amazingly fast for being a trash bin but Luchador luckily ducks and it slams against the wall, breaking part of it.

 

Stevens growls as he knows he’ll have to pay the arena extra for damage. But that doesn’t stop the two enemies from going at it once again! Luchador runs forwards and tries to hit a clothesline but Toxxic ducks under! He then swiftly clutches IL around the thighs and hoists him up in the air with the momentum! Luchador is dropped right onto the messy desk, various items jabbing at him as he hits the solid table. The loud crack is heard as well as Stevens’ groan. Toxxic quickly hops onto the desk and pulls up Insane Luchador. Mark steps towards Toxxic and begs at him not to but Toxxic uses a small kick in Mark’s chest!

 

“Uh-oh! I think Toxxic just pushed it too far!” Cyclone cries out.

 

Stevens barely even budges as he grabs Toxxic by his legs and tugs him off the desk! The feisty HGC/ICTV champion gets right to his feet and shoves Mark, only to get nailed with a punch to the face! The fans back in the arena go absolutely berserk at Stevens’ reaction!

 

Comet laughs as Riley cries out in disdain as Toxxic falls to the ground. Suddenly, panting and sweating, the Memphis Eel walks into the room. Luchador rolls off the table and approaches Mark to say thanks but instead gets socked in the face too! Andrew reels back and hits the whole other side of the wall with a look of shock.

 

“I didn’t want to be biased, oh, and you hit on Lynn while drunk at that last Christmas party,” Stevens explains with a smug grin.

 

Luchador clutches his chin and gives a slight nod of understanding and acceptation. Quickly though he focuses back on the match and grabs Stevens’ swivel chair! He lifts it high into the air and watches Toxxic roll to his feet, oblivious to IL behind him, staring at Mark with disbelief. Luchador brings the chair crashing down onto the back of his opponent’s head, who simply hits the ground face first! But Toxxic isn’t down for any count as he gets to one knee, trying to get up despite being extremely dazed.

 

“No matter what you think of either of those two, they are truly warriors,” Comet complements.

 

Luchador grabs Toxxic from behind and tugs him to his feet, slightly ducking down and grabbing him! He is able to lift him into the air for the backdrop suplex! The fans go wild as Luchador does a little spin and aligns the drop right for the desk! He drops and Toxxic’s back collides with the desk as the wood crunches loudly, not breaking but apparently bending.

 

“We buy some nice furniture,” Riley comments as he shakes the announcer table experimentally.

 

Toxxic flops over and IL hops onto the table. He grabs Toxxic by the neck, tugging him to his knees. He then ducks down and wraps his arms around his opponent’s torso. Quickly he brings Toxxic into the air and has his legs slung over his shoulders! He faces the doorway out with Toxxic all set for the powerbomb! The Champion tries to fight back as his legs begin to wrap around Luchador with the strength of an anaconda. Quickly the Luchador turns himself around and leaps backwards off the table, forcing Toxxic to drop nearly neck first into the table! But the table gives away as Toxxic crunches throw it and pieces of wood fragments explode everywhere.

 

Luchador hooks the leg as the fans explode into cheers!

 

The Memphis Eel takes his sweet time getting to the count, raising his hand especially slow. Stevens barks at him and he picks up the pace.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

“THHHRREEE!” The fans gleefully cheer.

 

 

“The second fall… IINNNSSAANNNEE LUUUUCHAAADOOOOR!” Funyon makes it official.

 

“IL scores the second fall!” Comet proclaims.

 

“Now get out!” Mark demands as Luchador stands up, grabbing Toxxic and simply chucking him out of the office through the open door! He quickly jogs after as the Memphis Eel takes a big breath in before following after, making sure to politely shut the door behind him.

 

Luchador looks around confused, not seeing Toxxic. He slowly walks to up the hallway but hears a door open very slowly. He whirls around to see Toxxic emerge from the Janitor’s Closet with a shovel!

 

“Holy crap, hit him! Hit him!” Riley cries out.

 

Before IL can even move the now lethal weapon smacks him square on top of the head! Luchador reels back with his arms flailing uncontrollably.

 

“I’ve heard of being thick headed but yeesh! Look at that!” Riley says.

 

Toxxic swings again but Luchador has the control to duck-

 

“But still gets nailed straight in the back!” Comet gives the play-by-play. Toxxic drops the shovel, gets Luchador in the front facelock, and seems pretty picky where he’s setting it up…”

 

 

The Straight-Edge Superstar grabs a handful of Luchador’s khaki cargoes and hoists him into the air. He then drops quickly but lands on his rear end with the Brainbuster and it smacks Luchador right onto the shovel! IL’s limp as Riley’s wrist as Toxxic makes the cover.

 

“ONE!” “It was a nice idea by that vile Toxxic,” Cyclone adds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” The Memphis Eel sees Luchador’s body brace for a kick-out.

 

“THREE!”

 

“HEY! HEY! ANOTHER QUICK COUNT! What an injustice!” Cyclone Comet shrieks as the fans are jeering in dismay.

 

“Gee, funny how matches like these will just turn right around, huh? I like how the Memphis Eel just gets the match going, real quick pace, heh,” Riley savors this.

 

“The winner of the third pin fall- TOOOXXIIIC!” Funyon’s voice booms.

 

“That’s just not fair!” Comet snaps.

 

Toxxic begins to pick up the Insane Luchador and Irish whips him back towards the way they entered but towards the concession area too!

 

“Folks, hate to tell you, but it’s time for a commercial break! Trust me you’ll be seeing more of this intense action!”

 

--

 

(The camera comes back to a very intense scene as the Insane Luchador and Toxxic are apparently even more pissed off and fueled for more fighting! The two are clashing at each other with various counters and strikes at the concession area where fans and vendors alike part way for the brawling maniacs)!

 

“Welcome back, as you can see we are smack down in middle of the match up and all I can say is WOW. This two have really kicked it up a notch since we last left off. The score is still tied but the sheer rage at each other has kicked up, let me tell you,” Comet says.

 

In middle of the wide hallway with fans leaping out of harm’s way while watching the two continue to brawl. A vicious elbow sends Luchador reeling to the ground while Toxxic pounces like a lion, landing on IL’s chest and pummeling him with punches! Little specks and cuts are here and there on the two superstars as Rickmen shifts the weight, rolling over and onto Toxxic! Luchador nails two hits right to Toxxic’s face before hopping to his feet and Toxxic rolling to his. The two charge at each other, Toxxic going for a forearm smash and Luchador ducking under wisely. He quickly grabs Toxxic’s neck from behind and drops down with a reverse DDT. But he stays on the ground, using his forearm to choke Toxxic! The Memphis Eel begins the count to break it out. Luchador shrugs and gets to his feet while Toxxic coughs a bit. He flops onto his stomach and gets to all fours, starting to get up. Luchador looks all over the area, most of the carts and concession stands blocked by the fans. But he looks to the other side and sees an abandoned pretzel wagon. He quickly runs at it and hops on, sending it forward to the crowd’s delight. Luchador stops his coasting and swings the cart around, charging at Toxxic! He tries to leap out of the way, jumping into the air, but just too late! The end smacks against Toxxic and pushes him back, smacking against the cement back first! He uses the momentum to do a backwards roll and he staggers to his feet. He stares at the fans, and they all apparently have turned in their weapons. Luchador begins to stalk after him like a killer in a horror movie, fans cheering him on all the way. Toxxic shoves the crowd out of the way and suddenly a person leaps in Luchador’s way.

 

“See! Toxxic has fans too!” Riley snaps.

 

But the fan just reveals a makeshift “sword”- made out of a metal handle, two long light tubes glued on with tacks rattling inside!

 

“Excalibur for the psycho,” IL jokes. He just gives a psycho grin as he takes it from the fan and then charges at Toxxic! In an absolute panic Toxxic begins to sprint to the side that the fans retreated to. Most fans move out of the way but Toxxic has to budge through a few, the smart HGC/ICTV champion taking notice of the large sign, knowing there’d be a large concession stand. The works all cry out as Toxxic comes charging through the crowd and dives head first behind the counter! The workers flood out only to nearly be trampled as Luchador sends every fan fleeing!

 

“Cowardly Toxxic,” Comet spits in disgust.

 

“Oh come on Cyclone, like you wouldn’t run from that?” Riley retorts logically.

 

Luchador hops onto the counter unable to find Toxxic. He kicks over the register and hears a movement-

 

“Look out!” Fans gasp as Luchador tries to turn his head-

 

“HOLY SHIT! Luchador just got nailed with that deep fryer bin with that burning grease!” Riley screams out.

 

IL screams as he tries to wipe the burning oil and grease onto the shoulder of his shirt. He stumbles off the counter and grunts in painful agony. Toxxic drops it and with a smirk hops onto the counter. He leaps off but isn’t aware that Luchador hadn’t dropped his “Excalibur.” His face is priceless and every person goes running to the opposite side, including the Memphis Eel, right as Luchador swings it. It smashes against Toxxic’s side as glass shards and tacks flew in every direction, ripping into Toxxic and Luchador’s body!

 

“I-L! I-L! I-L!” The fans chant loudly.

 

IL takes a small step back with just the handle and a small portion of sharp, broken glass, as he tries to shake off the little chunks of ripped flesh. He looks up and sees Toxxic, stomach and chest cut open in various areas, throwing a right hook! But he side steps it and then lunges out-

 

“IL STABS TOXXIC RIGHT IN THE FOREHEAD WITH A CORNER OF THE BROKEN GLASS!” Comet screams.

 

Luchador laughs like the psycho he is as he has to try to tug out his weapon from Toxxic’s seared flesh near his hairline. Immediately blood pours and Toxxic falls to his knees not finding the voice he’d need to express the pain. Luchador drops the little handle and grabs Toxxic by the head, jerking him up and tossing him over back into the concession stand! Luchador then follows after him, leaping over. The two disappear for a second from view and Memphis Eel slowly inches his way over, until there’s a flash of a head then a smear of blood on the counter. The fans inch even further away just in pure disgust and fear.

 

“HEY! FUCKER! I’M PINNING HIM!” Luchador barks loudly to the Eel. The Memphis Eel quickly looks over the counter and starts the count-

 

“ONE!” The fans chant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” Memphis Eel scoots over to get a closer look but realizes his hand just smacked against the blood. In pure disgust he stops the count and stares, trying to smear it off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” The fans go nuts.

 

“WINNER OF THE FOURTH PIN FALL…. IINNNSSSAANNNEE LUCCHHAADOOOR!” Funyon’s happy to announce.

 

 

Luchador gets up and kicks open the side door, clutching Toxxic and tossing him through it. He lunges at the HGC/ICTV champion but Toxxic manages to throw an elbow to Luchador’s chin! IL reels back and Toxxic grabs him by the wrist, Irish whipping him towards the other side of the room! Everybody again parts like the Red Sea as Luchador is rocketing past them, smacking against and knocking over an icy cold beer stand! Toxxic grunts and picks up a dropped t-shirt, wiping the blood from his forehead, the cut noticeable but not huge. Then he smears the blood around on his chest while cringing with pain. He advances as Luchador tries to pick himself back up.

 

“Well we didn’t put a warning on this for nothing,” Riley mutters while watching Toxxic drop the shirt with disgust.

 

He bends over to attempt to pick up the Luchador but instead gets NAILED with a beer bottle! The glass shatters and the straight edger is dosed in beer. Toxxic swaggers back but the beer now drenching over him and seeping into the cuts provides a whole new anger. He quickly shakes off the attack and watches IL get to his feet. He charges Toxxic with his arms thrown out. The Hardcore Gamers Champion side steps the attempt and hits a rear headlock, smacking his one knee up and driving the other into his neck! The fans boo immensely and chuck various concession stand products at Toxxic.

 

“He’s going for the Detoxx!” Riley roars out with happiness.

 

He suddenly spins IL and himself around, going for the diamond cutter! He nails it with perfection then wastes no time hooking the leg!

 

“ONE!” The Eel counts.

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

“The winner of the fifth pin fall… TTOOOXXIICC!” Funyon declares.

 

“Toxxic gets the second pin!” Comet cries.

 

Toxxic gets to his knees and takes a big breath in, looking down in each direction of the hallway. He sees the entrance to the seats and quickly grabs Luchador. He drags Luchador by his spiked hair and walks. Andrew Rickmen squirms and tries to free himself but can’t. Soon Toxxic is standing in the entrance to the seats, the narrow cement steps clear on the second floor rather close to ringside during the break while two jobbers duke it out. Fans turn around and immediately notice, popping for the fight to come back into the fans! Toxxic then grabs the back of Luchador’s cargoes and the other hand clutched around the back of his neck.

 

Tauntingly he swings the Luchador in the air, “ONE!” “…TWO!” All the fans near the aisle scrunch to the other side. “THREE!” Toxxic gives the Luchador a heave-ho and he finds himself face planting on the cement, bouncing up and falling into the seats! Luchador lifts up his face and the damage is clearly seen as blood comes flooding from his nose and above his eyebrow.

 

“He just threw him like a sack of spuds, no wonder he’s our double champion!” Riley yells.

 

Luchador desperately looks up to the fans in the row for help, who just give bit of a shrug. Toxxic saunters down the steps, getting the fans rallied up. Suddenly Luchador sees the fans in the rows passing back a lead pipe and soon it’s held out in front of IL, Toxxic oblivious to it! He stops four steps above Luchador and Andrew makes his move!

 

“He swings the lead pipe at Toxxic who barely avoids the attack! My God! He just delivered a dropkick right to Luchador! He’s soaring!” Cyclone Comet says in awe and worry.

 

“Well these two certainly don’t mess around,” Riley says.

 

The fans all explode into “HOLY SHIT!” As Luchador flies all the way down to the last few steps the momentum carries him all the way to smacking against the barricade, dropping the pipe along the way. Toxxic continues his confident strut down the stairs picking up the pipe along the way. Luchador’s arms fling up and he grasps the top of the guard rail, trying to get up. Toxxic aids Luchador by tossing the pipe over the barricade and grabbing IL’s legs, flipping him over the railing. He hops over and makes the cover.

 

 

“ONE!” The fans jeer.

 

 

“TWO!” They hiss and throw their trash at Toxxic and the Memphis Eel.

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” “Oh that evil Toxxic scores another point!” Comet shouts disappointed.

 

“SCORING THE SIXTH PIN FALL…. TOOXXIICC!”

 

Pissed off he glances down, noticing the pipe’s absence- only to get smacked in the kneecaps with it! The jobbers in the ring stop and stare at Luchador who stands up with a psycho grin while Toxxic is doubled over, clutching his knee. Andrew leaps behind Toxxic and with a giggle puts the pipe horizontally across Toxxic’s throat, pulling back and choking Toxxic!

 

“Eel! Break that choke!” Cyclone demands knowing this is wrong.

 

“Oh shit, IL has snapped, I TOLD you he’d lose it one day,” Riley yells.

 

Thankfully the Memphis Eel reappears from the crowd and breaks the choke hold quickly. Luchador drops the pipe and casually throws Toxxic into the ring. He flops over and wheezes. Andrew stares at the Eel who slowly backs away. The two jobbers stand awkwardly in the ring, unsure what to do. Rickmen hops onto the apron and over, walking up to one. He tears off the jobber’s white tank top and wipes his bloody nose away. To the pop yet fear of the crowd he throws it into the audience. With a simple psycho grin that reveals a bloody tooth-smiled the jobbers are off like a prom dress. Luchador stares and breathes deeply but suddenly hears a chorus of jeers-

 

“IL turns around only to get Hurricanarana’ed by Toxxic!” Comet cries out as Luchador is fling across the ring.

 

Andrew finds himself near the ropes on the opposite side of Toxxic as he grabs the top, beginning to tug himself up. He turns around, leaned against the ropes, right as Toxxic makes the charge! Toxxic leaps out going for a spear but Luchador barely springs out of the way. Toxxic finds himself flying out of the ring and crashing directly into the barricade! Luchador stares down and glances at the turnbuckle and then looking around the packed crowd. He points to the turnbuckle to a massive roar of approval. He cocks his head to his side slightly and begins to ascend up the turnbuckle. He throws up his two arms milk the cheers; bend his knees, and leaps out! Toxxic flops onto his back and stares up at the Insane Luchador somehow drawing the endurance to be moonsaulting towards him! The fans all hold their breath as Luchador comes down for the landing and Toxxic begins to pull his knees into the air-

 

“The Insane Luchador connects just in time!” Cyclone Comet yells over the roaring fans. “He’s got the pin!”

 

 

“ONE!” The crowd chants.

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” “Come on Toxxic!” Riley encourages.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE”! The cheers keep coming in.

 

 

“GETTING THE SEVENTH PIN FALL- AAANNDDREEWWW RIIICKKMEENNN!” Funyon announces.

 

“Keep counting!” IL cries out.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” “Come on Toxxic!” Riley screams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

“WINNER OF THE EIGHT PIN FALL… THE INNNSSANNNEE LLUUCCHAADOOOR!”

 

The fans all rejoice as Insane Luchador sits back on his feet while on his knees, gingerly touching the wire marks from the burning grease. More blood trickles from the Luchador’s nose and he disturbingly wipes it off on the palm of his hand and gives his opponent a slap to the face, leaving a bloody finger print. He then looks over at the apron and can’t help himself. He crawls over and flips it open, shuffling through the various homemade and unique weapons. Toxxic slowly gets to both knees, one arm on the barricade trying to pull himself up. Meanwhile the Insane Luchador pulls out a crowbar! Andrew turns around and watches the HGC/ICTV champion get to his feet, stumbling for balance. He takes a sloppy swing at the Luchador but again he’s able to avoid it and slams the crowbar against Toxxic’s gut! Toxxic immediately doubles over and Luchador takes a step forward, both hands clutching and raising the crowbar high into the air. But Toxxic has the senses and he throws a tackle to the Luchador! He continues with the assault, driving Rickmen’s back straight into the steel ring post! Andrew grabs his back in agony and Toxxic grabs the back of his head and tosses him into the announcer’s table!

 

“Saw it coming,” Riley groans while moving into safety’s way.

 

Luchador leans against the table as Toxxic charges right at him! But suddenly Luchador rips out the television monitor and swings it at Toxxic’s head! It nails him square in the forehead and Toxxic just drops like a bag of bricks! Luchador wastes absolutely no time with hooking the leg-

 

“ONE!” The fans count along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” “Looks like IL scores again!” Comet calls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” The fans pop loudly as Luchador gets to his knees and stands up staring at the announcer’s table. With a gigantic arm sweep he knocks everything off the table, leaving it bare. He smirks.

 

“WINNER OF THE NINETH PIN FALL… INSSSANNNEEE LLLUUCCHAADOOOR!” Funyon exclaims.

 

Luchador grabs Toxxic by his strong jaw and tugs him up, shoving him against the table. He uses an open hand slap against Toxxic’s chest, who crunches in pain, leaving Luchador to lock in the headlock and fall for the DDT! He makes another cover!

 

“ONE!” “Man, Toxxic, come on!” Riley shouts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” The fans continue their cheering.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” “Pins coming from the left and the right, it’s not taking much to make these guys stay down! But trust me, there’s still a whole second wind, it always happens.” Comet says from experience.

 

The fans love it. “WINNER OF THE TENTH PIN FALL…. INNSSSAANNEE LUCCHAADOOOR!”

 

IL stands to his feet. Toxxic flops over to his stomach and pulls to force himself up. But he stops and sees a puddle of his own blood dripping from his forehead. He then looks over to his side where the TV monitor’s corner proves it is, indeed, Toxxic’s blood. Rickmen hops onto the apron continuing to smirk while he turns his back to Toxxic, playing up to the crowd.

 

“Luchador has taken the lead with it being four to five,” Comet comments.

 

Toxxic gets to his feet with the blood flowing down his face but it’s obvious he’s very, very pissed off. He stands behind Rickmen and wraps his two arms around Rickmen’s waist and suddenly does an incredible move! He hoists IL into the air and arches over, tossing Luchador through the announcer’s table with a German Suplex! The table seemingly explodes under the weight and the fans are showered with woodchips like fans of Gallagher with pieces of water melon.

 

“HO-LY SHIT!” The fans chant once again as Toxxic whirls around and he hooks the leg for the pin-

 

“ONE!” “BBBBOOOOOOO!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” The fans groan.

 

“Winner of the eleventh pin fall, TOOOXXIIICC!” Funyon declares.

 

“It’s all tied up!” Riley squeals.

 

But Toxxic remains lying on the twitching Luchador, who’s desperately trying to get up.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

“Keep going!” Toxxic yells.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

Luchador questionably throws his shoulder up. “THREE!” “Hey!” Comet cries out again.

 

 

“Winner of the twelfth and thirteenth pin fall… TOOOXXIICC!” The fans jeers are deafening.

 

“By Zeus, that shouldn’t count, this isn’t right at all!” Comet yells.

 

Toxxic smiles to himself as he pulls himself up, grabbing Luchador. He tosses him back into the crowd. “We’re going for a trip,” Toxxic hisses to the Luchador as he drags him by his shirt collar up the arena stairs as every fan has to resist the urge to just nail Toxxic in the face.

 

“Time for a word from our sponsors! We’re reaching the home stretch of this brutal, enduring match!” Comet says.

 

-Fade to black-

 

--

 

(The camera comes back to life and the location is obvious they are barely into the backstage area, very close to the ramp entrance. Toxxic and the Insane Luchador are shown again but this time, to the fan’s delight, IL is stomping on Toxxic!)

 

“Welcome back folks! This has been a wild and a show none of us will ever forget! But now with everything being in conclusion we just have to see who will become our new hardcore champion! For the recap Toxxic is in the lead with eight pin falls, needing two more, and Luchador is at seven, needing three more. If you missed it over the break IL and Toxxic got themselves in a new world of trouble brawling into the Window Pain match! Then the two actually got separated for a bit backstage and now they have collided again!” Comet summarizes.

 

Luchador suddenly stops and begins to walk down the hallway just right near the entrance ramp. Slowly he counts the numbers of doors, unaware of following him. Luchador slips into the room, to everybody’s confusion, and Toxxic carefully peaks his head around the corner- only to get nailed in the face with an again gold chain! While Toxxic reels back the Insane Luchador wraps it around his knuckles. He walks and turns his body and hips, hitting the most powerful right hook he can! Toxxic falls from the impact and the Luchador lets the chain slip off his now damaged knuckles. He quickly retreats back into the room. Like a kid trying to find something he tosses various weapon items out the door. Crutches are thrown out, a glass vase, a hammer, and then Luchador emerges with a smirk on his face. He holds a wooden stick with limp rubber flopped to one side, but nails are on both sides of the rubber! Toxxic rolls to his feet, back turned, as he’s now bleeding from the corner of his mouth also! Suddenly he feels a sharp, excruciating pain in his back! Luchador gives a look of shock as he notices the nails on the one side have been driven fully in! He lets go of the handle, letting the weapon hang inside Toxxic. The Straight Edge Extremist turns around to stare at the Insane Luchador a rage in his eyes that IL hasn’t seen before from him. But it doesn’t stop the psycho Rickmen from giving a big wide grin.

 

Comet and Riley are both silent at the disturbing image, droplets of blood already hitting the floor. Suddenly Luchador lunges out to hit a move but Toxxic throws a high knee that smacks IL’s chin! Andrew reels back and trips over the earlier mentioned crutch as Toxxic pulls out the weapon stuck in his back, simply tossing it behind him. In his own psycho state he moves forwards and goes into IL’s proclaimed “treasure chest of carnage.” He reappears with a trash can.

 

“Wait, now, as sick as what IL just did was- you’d think he’d find something better than a trash can,” Riley says.

 

Andrew Rickmen looks up and rolls to his feet, grabbing the glass vase for protection. He throws it at Toxxic but he just ducks and it zooms over his shoulder! The Memphis Eel nearly gets nailed with it but ducks as it shatters against the far wall near the entrance ramp.

 

“You know that could have been an antique,” Riley throws in.

 

Toxxic swings at Luchador, nicking the side of his head, Luchador stumbles back. Toxxic drops the trash can and leaps out, wrapping his arms around IL’s waist. He lifts him up in the classic gut wrench and he walks over to the garbage bin. He drops his opponent into it which causes Luchador to actually cry out in a painful laugh. Toxxic kicks over the trash bin and Luchador pulls his upper body out, his arms and parts of his face, neck, and shirt covered in tacks! While Andrew tries to get up Toxxic grabs the bin and sadistically smiles as he empties the tacks. He then grabs his opponent and lifts him up. For a second the two stare at each other’s battered and bloody faces but neither one wants to stop. Neither one would want to trade all the pain they’ve taken because of the pain they’ve been dishing out. The two collide into a grapple, much to the pleasure of the fans.

 

“This two men… it’s incredible, true competitors. Hatred fuels them… it’s not healthy but it works,” Comet says with a slight sigh.

 

Over the pile of tacks the two grunt while pushing back and forth. Luchador hits a knee and he’s able to lock in the front headlock!

 

“EVENFLOW DDT!” Comet cries out.

 

But before he can even go for the drop Toxxic manages to slip his head away. He stands up and fakes a left punch, causing Luchador to duck down. While ducked down Toxxic nails him with a high knee square in the already encrusted in blood nose! He then turns around, grabbing a hold on the back of his head and leaping out- making sure he clears the tacks! Luchador is planted stomach first on the thumb tacks with the diamond cutter! The fans’ jeer loudly as they hope it would make Toxxic somehow spontaneously combust.

 

“Yes! Toxxic hits the ‘Sobering Thought’ now he’s got the cover!” Riley yells.

 

“ONE!” The fans jeers just keep going.

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” Riley’s cheers can’t be heard over the jeers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE”! “Ha! Count another for Toxxic!” Riley laughs.

 

“Winner of the sixteenth fall… TOOOXXIIICC!” Funyon yells.

 

Toxxic sits up for a second and stares down then quickly hooks the leg again!

 

“ONE!” “IL! IL! IL! IL!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” “This could be it, it’s been such a battle, really either man is worthy,” Comet insists.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” Toxxic shouts. But Luchador’s shoulder flings up and even the Memphis Eel can’t deny it.

 

“This match goes on!” Comet cries out as the crowd goes crazy.

 

Toxxic gets to his knees in frustration and Luchador rolls away! He can’t believe the fighting spirit in Andrew Rickmen and he gets to his feet, letting IL get up too. He charges forwards but Rickmen, more in desperation, just throws a high roundhouse kick! It connections perfectly against Toxxic’s already bloody temple and he’s sent reeling back with surprising momentum! He slams against the wall right next to the entrance ramp and Toxxic looks up with blurred vision, blood and sweat in his eyes. He sees Luchador go back into his little room. Looking down he sees a rather cheap looking wooden crate about Toxxic’s chest size. He grabs it and tosses it up lightly letting the usual confidence take over as he gets a feel for the weight. He slowly stalks up to the door where Luchador’s elbow keeps popping out then jerks back in.

 

“What the hell…?” Riley asks right as Toxxic stands quietly by the door side. He lunges out and-

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

*VVVVVVVRRROOOOOOMMMMMM*

 

“Oh no…” Comet says.

 

“RRRRAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!”

 

Luchador comes leaping out with the weed whacker going full blast and in his hands. Toxxic backs away for the first time a look of fear in his eyes.

 

“IL, please, this is going too far!” Comet says and the Memphis Eel sure as hell doesn’t want to tell IL the same. He just wants to keep as far away as possible.

 

Toxxic bravely lunges out, swinging the crate and nailing Luchador in the face! Andrew drops the weed whacker and the thin blades hit Toxxic! Everybody gasps but it only rips open a side of his shorts by his legs. Toxxic stares down in fear, heavily panting before looking even more pissed off than ever. The weed whacker begins to sputter and most -sane- people sigh with relief. He just takes the crate and brings it crash down on Luchador’s head, shockingly enough his head busts through it, leaving Luchador trapped in it!

 

“Yeah, like I said earlier, thick headed.”

 

Toxxic glances down at the weed whacker and then to the Insane Luchador who’s stumbling forward and hitting against the wall just to make sure he doesn’t pass out. Toxxic stares at the weed whacker and his hand slowly feels his back that’s covered in more blood than he imagined. The sticky, crimson red fluid on the tips of his fingers makes the decision for him. He swoops down and picks up the weed whacker, grabbing the starter and priming it up.

 

“Oh sweet merciful…” Comet begins over the humming.

 

Toxxic approaches Luchador whose back is turned, trying to free his head. Everybody all around the nation scoot up closer and stare as the weed whacker comes closer and closer. Finally IL’s head slips out of the box. Toxxic thrusts it out further, the spinning blur only millimeters away from Luchador’s back. Some people close their eyes or turn their heads but others are fixated. The thin, tiny blades eat through Luchador’s shirt and soon collide with his flesh. His body shoots erect and he can’t help but to scream out the most painful yell. He stumbles forwards and he’s smart enough not to grab his back as Toxxic continues to advance.

 

Pieces of black cloth and blood droplets, even the smallest chunks of flesh are thrown into each direction, some even colliding with Toxxic’s bare chest. Luchador keeps staggering forward as the weed whacker just cuts deeper. Blood splats against the walls and Luchador’s screams just continue.

 

“……….Folks…. I’m sorry,” Comet says as he turns his head away.

 

Finally Luchador falls to his knees and the blades knick his neck before Toxxic kills the weed whacker. The shirt only has little pieces here and there, other pieces stuck inside the Luchador. His back is pure red besides a few spots where his own blood or flesh splattered. Even Toxxic has a face of fear as to what he’s just done.

 

“Pin the boy,” The Eel requests as Toxxic drops the weed whacker. He swoops down with his eyes open wide, still can’t believe what’s he’s just done. Luchador flops onto his stomach his face exposed, chest moving up and down heavily, and he grins.

 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Riley says.

 

IL chokes out a laugh, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”

 

Everybody shifts uncomfortably in their seats as Luchador squirms away from Toxxic, leaving a trail of blood like a slug with its trail of mucus.

 

“Luchador, stop, you need to get medical help, now,” A worker says. “The ambulance is coming… we should just call the match…” But the Luchador suddenly stops and it’s silent as he stands to his knees. Then he gets to his feet with that psycho grin plastered on his face. Toxxic looks around unsure what to do so he throws a punch.

 

“Oh let it be over!” Comet snaps.

 

But Luchador just ducks it, grabs Toxxic’s wrist, and weakly Irish whips him onto the entrance ramp! The fans are speechless but can’t help but to watch the Luchador push on.

 

“LUCH-A-DOR!” LUCH-A-DOR!”

 

Andrew comes out on the entrance ramp and Toxxic greets him with a knee to the gut! Quickly he forces Luchador’s head down and hooks both arms up.

 

“Oh come on!”

 

Toxxic gets booed to Hell as he gets ready to nail his finisher, the Toxxic Shock Syndrome! But suddenly the Insane Luchador begins to resists, forcing his upper body up and slowly using all his strength, determination, adrenaline, and insanity to twist the arms so the two are back to back! They stand dangerously close to the considerably large drop off to the side where they extra stuff. The two are paused there, bleeding back to bleeding back, and it’s made obvious the fight with the sacrifice that’s happened tonight. But it’s not over.

 

“Luchador just used the back of his head to nail Toxxic, he’s freed himself! He’s reversed it!” Comet can’t help but to stand from his feet.

 

Andrew Rickmen takes five huge steps back and does a little shuffle before-

 

“IL JUST LEAPED OUT AND HE’S GOT TOXXIC IN THE BULLDOG-” Comet pauses and watches in shock. “THOSE TWO JUST TOOK THE PLUNGE! After this brutality! After all this…” Comet says.

 

The Memphis Eel, SWF employees, and medics are all there. Scared the Memphis Eel forces himself to peer over the edge of the seven-foot drop and there Luchador and Toxxic are-

 

 

 

 

With Luchador’s arm slung over Toxxic’s chest! Memphis makes the decision to make the count-

 

“ONE!”

 

More medics and employees flood out with two stretchers. “This is it!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” “Count again!” Comet cries as the fans stand up and try to get the best view.

 

 

“ONE!” “Yes! IL could have done it!”

 

“TWO!” They all chant.

 

 

“TTTTHHHHHHHHRRREEEEEEEEE!” “I don’t believe it! IL is our NEW HARDCORE GAMER’S CHAMPION! After such a brutal and sacrificial match it’s all over.”

 

 

“Winner of the seventeenth and eighteenth fall… AND YOUR NEW H-G-C CHAMPION- IINNNSSSAAANNNNEEE LLLUUCCCHHHHAAADOOOR!” Funyon proclaims to the overwhelmingly happy audience.

 

“The Gauntlet” kicks up but the Commissioner comes out looking enraged yet equally worried, he demands the music’s cut as all the men begin to help out IL and Toxxic.

 

“Certainly a match that’ll be cemented in our federation’s history… I hope these two fine competitors are alright… I’m Cyclone Comet, good night!”

 

-Fade to black showing the chaos to get the two men out-

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

I would appreciate feedback... and by "appreciate," I mean, "marker, give me feedback or else..."

 

 

- Dub Cee

 

===============

 

“Welcome back to Lockdown,” says Comet. “We’re about ready for our Tag Team Title match between Wild and Dangerous and Aecas and Terrance Bailey of the Unholy Trinity. And Robert, earlier tonight, Mike Van Siclen had some very strong words for the Tag Team Champions!”

 

“He certainly did,” agrees Riley. “He basically blamed them for everything that’s gone wrong in his SWF career. And you know what, Comet? After listening to him explain it, I’m not so sure that his accusations aren’t without merit!”

 

“You can’t be serious,” barks Comet. “This is a man who has been blinded by jealousy for two young superstars that he claimed to be friends with!”

 

“Well, why would he be happy for them,” asks Riley. “After all, they only reason that they got to where they are is by stabbing Mike Van Siclen in the back!”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” roars Comet. “I can’t believe that you’re actually taking the things that he said seriously!”

 

Riley shrugs in response. “I have no reason not to believe it, Comet. A lot of the things that he said make a lot of sense. And, from the sounds of things, he intends to take matters into his own hands; he’s gotten himself a tag team partner, and he vows to take those belts away from Wild and Dangerous!”

 

“Well, before Wild and Dangerous can deal with this new threat posed by Mike Van Siclen,” says Comet, “first they are going to have to get past the Unholy Trinity! Terrence Bailey and Aecas are two fierce competitors, two former Hardcore Champions, and they’re going to give the Tag Team Champions all that they can handle!”

 

With that, the stage becomes flooded with smoke. The Philadelphia fans begin to cheer as bright red laser beams pierce the smoke, creating a crimson mesh of light. Suddenly, the arena comes alive with the Trinity’s battle cry:

 

LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!

 

The front of the stage explodes in a blaze of pyro as Machinehead’s “Davidian” begins to blare through the speakers. As the pyro dies down, the Anti-Heel Machine and the Black Angel step out onto the stage, holding their arms above their heads as the crowd chants for them:

 

TRIN-I-TY!

TRIN-I-TY!

TRIN-I-TY!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, as they begin to make their way down the ramp, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Tag Team Championship! Making their way to the ring at this time are the challengers: at a total combined weight of six hundred seventy-five pounds, here are Terrence “Janus” Bailey and the Black Angel, Aecas! And they represent… the Unholy TUH-RIN-I-TY!”

 

“Look at all that beef in the ring,” notes Comet. “It’s like a cattle ranch! The largest team in the SWF today, bar none!”

 

“And the strongest,” adds Riley. “I’m going to enjoy seeing the Trinity throw those two pretty boys around the ring like rag dolls!”

 

“Let’s hope that the Tag Team Champions aren’t looking past the Trinity towards Mike Van Siclen and his mystery partner,” warns Comet, as the Trinity’s music fades out. Janus and Aecas talk strategy in the corner as “Y.O.U.” begins to play. The fans rise to their feet as the Tag Team Champions run out onto the stage, lacking in their usual exuberance.

 

“Here come the Tag Team Champions,” says Comet, noting that the Bahama Bomber has since changed into his traditional ‘battle dress.’ “And you can tell that they’re a little distracted by what happened earlier tonight!”

 

“Good,” replies Riley. That’ll make it all the easier for them to get their butts kicked tonight!” Wild and Dangerous walk briskly towards the ring, absentmindedly slapping hands with the fans as they proceed down the ramp.

 

“Their opponents,” says Funyon, “at a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-one pounds, here are the SWF Tag Team Champions… WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Funyon exits the ring as the Tag Team Champions reach the ringside area and slide underneath the bottom rope to enter the ring, without their usual victory lap. They look downright solemn as they remove their championship belts and hand them to referee Matthew Kivell, who holds them overhead before walking towards the edge of the ring and leaning through the ropes to hand them to Funyon. “Y.O.U.” fades out as Kivell motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bell’s gone,” says Comet, “and we’re underway!” Johnny and Terrence exit to their respective corners, leaving Wildchild and Aecas standing in the ring. Aecas waits patiently for Wildchild to initiate contact, but the Bahama Bomber stands motionless in the center of the ring staring towards the ramp.

 

“Look at Wildchild,” pipes Riley. “He’s clearly got Van Siclen on his mind; he can’t even concentrate on this title match!” Aecas, growing impatient, decides to take matters into his own hands, as he steps forward and thrusts his right hand into Wildchild’s face, shoving him down to the mat with a pieface! Wildchild rolls backwards onto his shoulders and back to his feet, glaring at the Black Angel, who nods approvingly at Wildchild’s sudden expression of anger.

 

“It looks like Aecas actually wants to piss Wildchild off,” notes Comet, as Aecas leans forward, extending his chin towards the Champion. “Come on, mate,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Lay one right here…”

 

 

“… Right here…”

 

 

With those two words, all of the rage that has been boiling just beneath the surface of the Human Hurricane reaches its flash point, and he lunges at Aecas, blasting the Black Angel with a battery of lightning-fast rights and lefts before he has time to react!

 

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

 

“He’s snapped,” shouts Comet. “Wildchild’s gone over the edge!” Aecas staggers backwards, completely taken by surprise, but quickly recovers, swinging fiercely at Wildchild’s head, but the Caribbean Cruiser deftly moves out of the way and resumes his assault on Aecas’s skull:

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

 

 

UMPH!

 

 

Aecas finally halts Wildchild’s attack with kneelift to the midsection that doubles him over. The Black Angel grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him towards the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber leaps onto the top rope and curls into a ball as he springs off…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… Blasting him in the chest with his patented Pinball attack! Aecas, who is unfamiliar with Wildchild’s offense, is completely taken by surprise, staggering backwards into the center of the ring, but remaining on his feet. Wildchild runs towards the Black Angel and dives feet-first at his lower body…

 

 

WHAM!

 

… Hitting his left knee with a running dropkick! Wildchild races towards the edge of the ring as Aecas drops to one knee and explodes off the ropes, flying through the air towards the challenger…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And drilling him in the side of the head with a flying elbow! Aecas crumples to the mat as Wildchild rolls to his feet, howling towards the rafters!

 

“Aecas may have made a mistake in trying to agitate the Wildchild,” notes Comet. “I don’t think that he was prepared for that high-speed attack!”

 

“Wildchild always gets off to a fast start,” replies Bobby. “But, water seeks its own level; as this match goes on, you’ll see the Trinity take advantage!” Wildchild pulls Aecas to his feet and forces him back towards the edge of the ring nearest his corner. The Black Angel reaches out to make the tag to Terrence even as Wildchild grabs him by the wrist and attempts to whip him across the ring, and attempt that he reverses easily. Bailey steps between the ropes as Wildchild is propelled across the ring, and scoops the Bahama Bomber into his arms as he ducks a clothesline attempt by Aecas.

 

 

SMASH!

 

 

Aecas runs across the ring as Terrance holds Wildchild tightly in his grip and thunders off the ropes, running directly at his tag team partner and crushing the Tropical Tumbler between their two massive bodies! Terrence releases Wildchild and exchanges a double high-five with his tag team partner as the Bahama Bomber slumps to the canvas.

 

“Tremendous move by the Trinity,” remarks Comet. “Wildchild just got crushed between seven hundred pounds of beef!”

 

“That’s how you use your weight to your advantage,” adds Riley. “And that’s smart; they don’t have a chance to match speed with Wild and Dangerous, so they utilize their bulk to their advantage. They’re going to need to do more of that if they want to come away with the win here!” Terrence picks Wildchild up as Aecas exits to the ring apron and holds him overhead nonchalantly with a military press before simply releasing him…

 

 

SLAM!

 

 

… And stepping forward as Wildchild crashes down to the mat! The Anti-Heel Machine lumbers towards the edge of the ring with precision slowness and bounces off the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds to crush Wildchild with a legdrop…

 

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber rolls safely out of the way! Terrence clutches his lower back in pain and rolls towards his corner to tag Aecas back in as Wildchild continues to recover. The Black Angel steps between the ropes and charges across the ring, but the Human Hurricane manages to somersault towards his corner and makes the tag to Johnny Dangerous, who immediately leaps onto the top rope and explodes into the ring…

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

… Smashing Aecas in the face with a Springboard Dropkick!

 

“Here comes the Barracuda,” shouts Comet, as Aecas staggers backwards. “The muscle of Wild and Dangerous, if you will…”

 

“Hah,” snorts Riley. “That right there should tell you all that you need to know about Wild and Dangerous chances in this match. A two hundred and twenty-pounder is the ‘muscle.’ That’s a joke!” Wildchild remains in the ring, lying facedown on the canvas near his corner as Johnny grabs Aecas by the wrist and attempts to whip him across the ring, but the Black Angel easily reverses, launching Johnny into the ropes instead. The Barracuda leaps into the air as he bounces off the ropes, extending his body as he flies towards the challenger with a cross-body attempt, an attempt that he quickly neutralizes, snatching Johnny out of the air and into his mighty grip…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But Wildchild creeps up behind the Black Angel, raising his body slightly off the canvas and causing Aecas to fall backwards to the mat with Johnny on top of him!

 

“Beautiful takedown,” exclaims Comet, as Kivell drops down to count the pinfall, not even waiting for Wildchild to leave the ring:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

But Aecas kicks out easily at one, launching the Barracuda forcefully off of his body!

 

“That was the result of an illegal double-team,” roars Riley, as Wildchild rushes towards the Trinity’s corner. “Not only should the referee not have counted that, but he should disqualify Wild and Dangerous right now!”

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

The Bahama Bomber leaps towards the Trinity’s corner before Kivell realizes that he hasn’t yet left the ring, and sucker punches Terrance in the face. Enraged, the Anti-Heel Machine charges through the ropes as the speedster darts back across the ring, but the referee only sees the Aussie Giant, and holds him back in the corner, allowing Wildchild to use the distraction to help his partner inflict some double-team damage on Aecas.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Kivell,” shouts Riley. “Pay attention to what’s going on behind you!” Wildchild and Johnny each grab one of Aecas’s wrists and whip him across the ring, lifting him into the air as he rebounds…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… And bounces him off the mat with a double-spinebuster! Bailey roars at Kivell to turn around, but the referee remains steadfast, demanding that he return to his corner.

 

“See,” shouts Riley, “this is the kind of favoritism that Van Siclen was talking about; how can Kivell turn a blind eye to what’s going on behind him?” The Tag Team Champions continue to capitalize on the referee’s distraction, grapevining the Black Angel’s legs and locking their hands together as they roll forward, pulling Aecas off the mat and through the air…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Before slamming him back down with a Double Leg-Whip Powerbomb! Wildchild exits the ring and returns to his corner as Kivell finally turns his attention away from the Aussie Giant.

 

“Can you believe this guy,” grumbles Riley. “And he has the nerve to call himself a referee; Mark Stevens should fine him for his incompetence, but since Kivell’s bad refereeing works in favor of his two chosen ones, I’m sure he won’t do anything!” Johnny gets to his feet and makes a clean tag in plain view of the referee.

 

“Oh, that’s funny,” snaps Riley, as Wildchild climbs to the top turnbuckle. “Look at these two acting like they follow the rules; they cheat more than any other team in the history of the SWF! I sure hope that Van Siclen and his partner put them in their place!” Johnny drags Aecas in front of the Champion’s corner before climbing the turnbuckles to meet Wildchild, trapping him in a front facelock and grabbing the leg as he falls backwards off of the turnbuckle…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Driving his partner into the chest of the Black Angel with a Superplex!

 

“Superplex Senton,” shouts Comet, as Wildchild rolls over to apply a cover. “Vintage tag team wrestling by the Champions!”

 

“Vintage cheating, you mean, snaps Riley,” as Kivell drops down to count:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE—

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

Wildchild beats Aecas to his feet and immediately makes the tag to Johnny, who comes back in and grabs the challenger by the wrist, whipping him across the ring…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… But the Black Angel quickly spins around on his heel and pulls Johnny towards him, leveling the Barracuda with a short-arm clothesline!

 

 

“What a shot,” cries Comet.

 

“I believe he irritated Aecas,” says Riley gleefully, as Aecas shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. "The Black Angel’s had enough of their illegal double-teams!” Aecas stumbles towards his corner and finally makes the tag to Terrence.

 

“Tag is made,” says Comet. “And Citizen Bailey looks fit to be tied!” Bailey storms into the ring and slides in towards the still-stunned Johnny...

 

BANG!

 

... Socking him in the mouth with a fierce Knuckle Bomb that sends the Barracuda sprawling backwards into the ropes! Johnny stumbles back towards the center of the ring, and Janus thrusts his arm forward forcefully...

 

 

BANG!

 

 

Knocking the Barracuda flat on his back with another Knuckle Bomb!

 

“The force behind those Knuckle Bombs has just got to be amazing,” marvels Comet, “and if Johnny wants to see his team walking away with those title belts he’d be well advised to avoid any more of those!”

 

Bailey has Johnny back up with a quick arm wrench, and ferociously whips the Barracuda across the ring towards the steel post! Johnny hits back-first with a sickening thud and staggers back out, his hand shooting to his back and he groans in agony. Unfortunately, the Barracuda winds up leaving himself wide open for the Aussie Giant, who reaches out to grab Johnny’s neck with both hands, and jerks the Secret Agent off his feet, holding him a least a good foot off the mat with a choke! Gasping for air is almost hopeless, yet Johnny tries while at the same time sinking his claws deep into Bailey’s oversized hands and trying to pry them away from his neck! Finally, after growing tiresome of having his hands shredded apart, Terrence ends the struggle by viciously slinging Johnny down to the canvas, forcefully knocking what little wind Dangerous was able to suck back into his windpipes on his way down back out! Janus steps in as he slings his elbow out and falls backward...

 

 

WHAM!

 

... Drilling Johnny’s chest with the point of his elbow!

 

“My God,” says Riley. “Did you see how bad the ring shook when Janus hit that elbow? It nearly knocked every single screw loose! He’d better ease up a bit on that we still need this ring for the rest of the night!”

 

“Be serious, Robert,” replies Comet. “Besides, the ring falling apart is about as likely as Commissioner Slam marking out for Al Snow on commentary!”

 

“Yeah… that would be pretty ludicrous,” agrees Bobby.

 

In the ring, Terrence makes the cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

NO!! Johnny gets a shoulder up just after two!

 

 

Pushing up off the canvas, Johnny begins to stand while in the near corner Wildchild begins to shout his encouragement. Before the Secret Agent can get up any further though, Bailey grabs a handful of hair and yanks the Barracuda back to his feet, eliciting a yelp of pain from Johnny’s lips! Bailey releases Johnny’s hair as he winds up his fist for yet another knuckle Bomb...

 

SMACK!

 

... But before he can land his blow, Dangerous quickly thrusts the palm of his hand into Baileys face, right between the eyes, with a Shotei Palmstrike!

 

“And Operative Dangerous is making a grab for control of this match up,” shouts Comet. Terrence stumbles backwards, momentarily stunned, and Johnny steps in...

 

 

SMACK!

SMACK!

 

... Blasting him with a second Shotei, quickly followed by a third! The crowd rises up, cheering wholeheartedly as Terrence staggers a step back… then forward… clearly stunned and ready to lumber to the canvas at a moments notice! Johnny pivots on his heel and heads to the near ropes behind him then bounces back, looking to put the Aussie Giant down with a big time lariat but Bailey suddenly comes back to life in just the nick of time, much to the delight of Philly! He turns to the side and scoops Johnny off the mat before he can land his clothesline, then kicks one leg up as he turns before sitting out…

 

WHAM!

 

… And driving Johnny back-first into the mat with a Sidewalk Slam, then collapsing himself, leaving both men flat on the canvas!

 

“And both men are down,” notes Comet. “Those Shotei of Johnny’s must have really sent Citizen Bailey’s brain slamming from one side of his skull to the other—I think he might be out!” After a watching Bailey and Johnny lying motionless for a few seconds, the referee finally steps in to administer the ten-count.

 

“ONEEEEE,” he shouts, while throwing his arms into the air and holding one finger up on each hand.

 

Wildchild and Aecas, both in their respective corners, begin shouting encouragements to their partners and loudly slamming their hands into the tops of the turnbuckles!

 

“TWOOOO!!!”

 

Still no movement from either man, and finally, the Bahama Bomber turns toward the crowd and begins clapping his hands together high over his head.

 

“Oh great… Wildchild; the captain of the pep squad!”

 

The clapping catches on like wildfire, and soon the entire arena joins in clapping and loudly cheering!

 

“THREEEE!!!”

 

Terrence is the first to awaken, and he rolls over onto his stomach then takes a deep breath… then finally pushes off the mat and begins his slow crawl to his corner.

 

“FOUUUUUUUR!!!!”

 

Finally, it’s Johnny’s turn. The Barracuda, like Terrence before him, rolls over onto his stomach and begins inching his way towards his awaiting partner. However, unlike Terrence, Johnny doesn’t have nearly as far to go before reaching the tag, but with Bailey’s head start it puts both men at about an even stretch for home plate.

 

“FIIIIIVE!!!!”

 

Jumping to his feet, Janus recklessly dives for the Black Angel’s hand…

 

Smack!

 

… And makes the tag! Aecas steps over the top rope and comes charging across the ring like a herd of wild elephants! Knowing that time is of the essence, Johnny closes his distance with a quick scuttle across the mat on all fours, and smacks the Wildchild’s hand! The crowd… quite simply… explodes!

 

“Wildchild and Aecas are both the legal man in this match,” declares Comet, “and with control of this match as open as Megan Skye’s bedroom door, it could be anyone’s game here!”

 

Wildchild hops straight up to the turnbuckle as the Black Angel closes in, then springs from his roost in a forward flip…

 

WHAM!!

 

… And plants both feet knee-deep into Aecas’ chest, absolutely flooring the Black Angel!

 

“Shooting Star Missile Dropkick,” calls Comet, “what a move by the Wildchild!”

 

Aecas rolls to his knees and begins to push off the mat with one hand while clutching his chest with the other as he grinds down hard on his teeth to fight back the resurgence of pain. Before Aecas is able to get off his knees, Wildchild leaps to the second rope directly beside him and back-flips off...

 

WHUMP!

 

... Jamming his knee directly across the Black Angel’s back and violently slamming him back down into the mat chest-first! Wildchild pops up to his feet as Aecas, using the strength in his arms, pushes himself back off the mat, determined not to stay put, but the Bahama Bomber is a step ahead of him, backflipping in place...

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

... And crashing back down onto the Black Angel with a standing Moonsault! Out of the corner of his eye Wildchild sees Johnny climbing the turnbuckle and moves out of the way, allowing the Barracuda to Moonsault off the top…

 

WHAAAM!!!

 

… And come down feet-first into Aecas’ back! The crowd roars with glee!

 

“Moonsault Double Stomp,” barks Comet.

 

“What in the hell was that,” cries Bobby. “That was a blatantly illegal move!”

 

“Wildchild and Johnny are just trying to appease these fans,” counters Comet. “Remember, Robert, this city is the home of hardcore, and Wild and Dangerous are simply giving what little of a shout-out they can!”

 

“Yeah, well it looks like Janus has a few choice words about that one!”

 

Sure enough, Terrence, catching an eye-full of the double-teaming angrily steps over the top rope to enter the ring, but the Referee quickly slides in, cutting Bailey off and ordering him to return to his corner. Remembering what happened last time, he quickly obliges, and Kivell is more than pleased to spin around, only to find Johnny already back in his corner without having to utter a single word Meanwhile, Wildchild drops to his knees and slowly but surely rolls the Black Angel onto his back to make the cover.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

NO!! Aecas gets his foot on the rope, putting an end to the count and filling the Wachovia Center with cheers!

 

“Smart move by Aecas,” notes Comet. “Clearly, he didn’t have the strength there to kick out of the pin fall, but his determination to become Tag Team Champion has not withered one single ounce!”

 

Wildchild floats over in front of the Black Angel and slaps on a quick facelock, using his control of Aecas’ body to pull him to his feet and lead him to the corner. Wildchild reaches his free hand out behind him and tags in Johnny, which gets a good round of applause from the crowd!

 

Johnny steps in and grabs Aecas by the wrist, and with assistance from his partner, whips the Black Angel across the ring! Wildchild and Johnny both get into position, looking for a double spine buster as Aecas hits the ropes and rebounds… but using every last square inch of fighting spirit the Black Angel can muster, he suddenly lets out a TREMENDOUS roar and slams both arms into the Tag Team Champion’s necks, violently flooring the pair, and getting a colossal cheer from the fans! Aecas drops to his knees, trying to recover as Wild and Dangerous writhe on the canvas.

 

“That’s what you get for cheating, you jerks,” shouts Bobby.

 

“What are you blabbering about,” replies Comet, “they were within the allotted five seconds! Nonetheless, that was a big time counter by Aecas! I was beginning to wonder if he had anything left in that big tank of his!”

 

Terrence shouts for joy, and cheers on his partner, who feeds off of the crowd's energy as he gets to his feet and raises his arms above his head, but failing to notices his opponents recovering behind him.

 

"Forget the damn fans," shouts Riley. "Worry about the guys behind you!" Against all common sense, Aecas elects not to make the tag to his partner, instead turning back towards the center of the ring...

 

 

CRACK!

 

... Right into a shuffling sidekick from the Wildchild! Aecas staggers backwards, caught by total surprise, and falls right into the waiting arms of the Barracuda, who scoops the Black Angel off the mat, pivots on one foot, and falls backwards with his patented Fallaway Slam as Comet shouts:

 

“MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII… ”

 

SA-LAAAM!!

 

“By Zeus, what a MI Slam,” marvels Comet. “Aecas gave the Tag Champs too much time and they flipped the tables right back around on him!”

 

Wildchild races to the far side of the ring then soars back toward the near ropes as Johnny rolls off Aecas. The Barracuda runs over to the Trinity's corner and smacks Janus in the face, goading the Aussie Giant into the ring as the Human Hurricane picks up serious speed before leaping to the top rope, and then springing back off and somersaulting forward while in the midst of a complete 450-degree rotation…

 

 

WHAAAM!!!

 

 

… And SLAMMING down HARD into the Black Angel’s chest with a Falling Star Press to a roar of cheers!

 

Against the roars of protest from Bailey, Kivell orders him back to his corner and then turns his attention back to the center of the ring, demanding that Wildchild exit as well. Wildchild heads off… but as soon as Kivell's back is turned, he sprints in the opposite direction! Like Thugg to the lunch-line, Wildchild BOLTS towards the Trinity's corner, leaping to the middle rope opposing Terrence before the Aussie Giant can react, and then springing off towards him, snatching Bailey by the head and pulling him off the apron, to the floor…

 

WHAAAM!!

 

… Scattering his brains across the outside floor with a Tornado DDT!

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

“Ouch,” Comet winces at the impact as Wildchild raises up on his knees and swipes his hair back away from his face, then finally, deciding not too push his luck any farther, saunters off towards his side of the ring. Johnny, in the ring, simply clenches down on both his hands, balling them into fist and thrusts above his head!

 

“That’s the signal for the Armed and Dangerous,” shouts Comet. “On top of a Falling Star Press and a MI Slam, and I’m sure Aecas is still feeling that D.F.A… that’s if he *is* still coherent enough to feel… and these fans are going ballistic!”

 

Finally, the Barracuda throws his arms down to his side and darts off to the far side of the ring. As Johnny nears the ropes he leaps into them… then ROCKETS back across the ring faster than a speeding bullet, one directly headed for Aecas’ flattened body that is. But before he reaches the Challenger, Johnny somersaults into the air while bringing both his arms out and tightly balling up his fists…

 

WHAM!!

 

… And driving them straight into the Black Angel’s sternum!

 

“Armed and Dangerous,” shouts Comet. “I don’t know how much that will add to Aecas agony, but the Black Angel couldn’t possibly withstand any more punishment!”

 

“Well if he can’t take the heat, maybe he should have thought about that before sticking his foot on the rope earlier!”

 

Johnny rolls onto his back as he reaches out for the Black Angel’s leg, then rolls back, firmly planting Aecas’ shoulders to the mat.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREEE!

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“And they’ve done it again,” cheers Comet, as Wild and Dangerous’ theme begins to pound from the speakers and Johnny releases Aecas’ leg, letting it flop to the canvas before he himself falls onto his back, breathing a sigh of relief.

 

“Yeah, and all it took was a string of three finishing maneuvers and an insult to put Aecas down,” Bobby says.

 

“Still,” counters Comet, “there is a reason Wild and Dangerous are the best Tag Team in the business today, and they just proved it… here, tonight!”

 

"All that these two proves is that they can cheat better than anybody else," growls Riley. "I can't wait until Van Siclen and his partner put these two in their place!"

 

Wildchild slides into the ring and grabs Johnny by the hand, helping him to his feet as the Referee returns with the Tag Team Titles.

 

“Here are your winners,” announces Funyon, “and STIIIIL the SWF Tag Team CHAMPIOOOOONS, WIIIIIIIILD… AAAAAAAAAAAND DAAAANGEROUUUS!!!”

 

“As much as I loathe the Unholy Trinity I’m rather disappointed that these two giants couldn’t snap those two twigs of flesh we call Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous,” Bobby says. “Still, they they didn't get out-wrestled, they lost to biased officiating! I expect Commissioner Stevens to take disciplinary action against Kivell immdiately!”

 

“Whatever you wish to call it,” replies Comet. “I don’t think it matters to these fans though, as they appear to have been thoroughly entertained by the match both teams fought through. We got more coming up, Folks, so stay tuned!”

 

Wildchild and Johnny both pose on the turnbuckles with their titles, adoring their fans…

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Guest Goodear]

I, on the other hand, know that my match stunk. So the marker doesn't need to give me any comments unless he really wants to

 

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

 

“Before us stands the most disturbing structure in all of professional wrestling,” says The Cyclone Comet. “The ten foot tall steel cage has been used to settle old debts and bring about the endings of major feuds for the entirety of wrestling history. And tonight…”

 

Bobby Riley pipes in; “It is being used to spice up a rather ordinary title defense. As far as I know, Stryke and Coy West have absolutely no issue with each other. But hey there is a whole blood letting theme going on tonight so why break the roll we’re on?”

 

“No reason whatsoever,” replies the chronically happy Comet. “I’m sure when these two people get locked in this mass of metal bars that wackiness will ensue. And if there is something that really needs to ensue a whole lot more here in the SWF it would be wackiness.”

 

“And bringing the wacky comes the master of wacky… Funyon.”

 

Standing in the metal trap is the sequined tuxedo of the ring announcer of choice for all the people that actually have a choice to make. Who are those people? “Ladies and gentlemen, this match is for the SWF United States Junior League Championship and will be contested inside a ten foot tall steel cage! The first man to exit the cage either by going over the top or through the door and have both feet touch the floor will be the winner! Introducing first, the challenger…”

 

Walking through the Pennsylvania crowd marches the man who swore to retire if he did not win the Clusterfuck this year, but was a big fat stinking liar. Clad in his stereotypical silver pants of doom, Stryke makes sure to come down the aisle in such a way to avoid the touch of the unwashed masses looking to get a little taste of greatness. But Stryke is not about making your day any better, he is in the ring to take away the USJL Championship and put it over his shoulder. Everything is about Stryke her tonight just like ever night that matters to the challenger. Walking up the steps, Stryke steps in between the ropes and mugs for the camera as he makes the universal signal of wanting the belt. You know what that sign is. Yes you do.

 

“He weighs in tonight at 230 pounds and hails from Sydney, Australia! Watch the skies for the air… STRRRRRYKE!”

 

Hopping up and down with his hands in the air, Stryke acts like he’s already taken this match home while it has still yet to actually begin. And the reason it hasn’t begun yet is that the Champion is obviously still waiting in the back for someone to give him the signal to walk down the aisle and climb inside the ring. When is that signal going to come? Right about now. Walking through the curtain strides the ‘Wild’ West with the USJL Champion tied around his waist. Knowing that this (like every other defense of the title) might be the last time that West gets to carry the gold, Coy holds the belt tightly in his hands before lifting it high in the air on the outside of the cage. Handing the strap off to a ringside attendant, Coy wipes his boot against the ringside steps before taking that long walk into the ring and into the path of his challenger.

 

“And the champion… he weighs in tonight at 240 pounds and comes to us from Little Rock, Arkansas. This is the current reigning SWF United States Junior League Champion… ‘THE COYOTE” COYYYYYYYY WESSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Pulling the baseball cap off his head, Coy flings the cap up and over the wall of the cage and almost into the crowd as Stryke mimics the entire production with the attitude of someone with no respect for his opponent. Smiling at the sullen USJL Champion, the challenger lays the bad mouth on his opponent until the moment that he hears the sound of the bell officially starts the contest.

 

And then Stryke runs!

 

Immediately turning his back on his opponent, Stryke immediately runs towards the ropes behind him and starts up the side of the ring in the hopes that the sudden movement will catch the USJL Champion so off guard that Stryke will be able to escape the cage. But this not being a complete rip off of a match, Stryke immediately finds that The Coyote will not allow his bone to fall out of the yard so quickly. Grabbing onto the challenger by the ankle, Coy pulls Stryke off the side of the cage and immediately starts to batter him across the face with his patented long right hooks. Slamming Stryke with three strait right hands, Coy knocks his challenger for a bit of a loop before winding him up and sending him into the ropes. Causing the cage to rattle with even that amount of movement, Stryke bounds off the strands before landing back into the grasp of the USJL Champion who lowers a shoulder and sends Stryke into the air with a backdrop toss. Springing up to his feet from the force of the impact, Stryke keeps a hand on his back as he moves up to his feet only to get knocked right back down to the mat with a running clothesline!

 

“West is rolling right now like I have not seen from him before,” says The Cyclone Comet. “He is tearing through Stryke just like last night’s bean burrito through a 80-year old man with no small intestine.”

 

“Does that analogy come up a lot Comet?” questions Bobby.

 

“You’ve obviously never met my Uncle Wimpy.”

 

Snatching Stryke off the canvas as the challenger continues to whether the storm that is all up in his area, Coy grabs him around the waist and pulls him up to his shoulder in position for a powerslam. But no powerslam is coming. Oh no. Instead, Coy uses the abrasive Stryke as a makeshift battering ram and slams him into the side of the cage!

 

CLANG!

 

Stryke falls off his opponent’s shoulder and immediately manages to take a few steps before falling flat on his face in the center of the ring as Coy continues to look on with the visage of a man that just does not care about the welfare of his opponent. Rocking backward into the ropes, Coy comes back at the kneeling opposition and kicks him square between the eyes with the measured precision of a face kicking machine. Pulling off his tank top, Coy continues to prove just how serious he is about kicking the hell out of the Sydney native as he wraps the shirt around the neck of the challenger and starts to throttle him back and forth. And while the crowd continues to cheer on the savage nature of the USJL champion, Coy uses the shirt to pull Stryke into a corner. Climbing up to the middle rope with Stryke pinned underneath his 240 pounds, Coy begins to smash the challenger in the face with another series of right hands as Stryke simply withers. Finally satisfied that he has knocked the crap out of Stryke enough, West reaches up even higher to grab the side of the cage wall and use it to pull himself up the wall. But just as soon as West gets to the point that he is standing on the top rope, Stryke finally manages to free himself from the pin in the corner and get back out of the ropes. Immediately turning back to West as the champion manages to get another leg up the side of the cage, Stryke hammers him in the back with a forearm in order to stop the chance for an escape.

 

Bobby shouts into his microphone headset, “Stryke might be a coward, a cheat, a liar and a crook… but he is not a coward. He will fight you in order to get what he wants!”

 

Comet says, “You do realize that you did, in fact, call him a coward and then say he wasn’t a coward.”

 

“Yes well,” replies Riley with a great deal of annoyance, “that was a joke. Which of course makes it all he more funny since I have to spell it out for you. Stupid.”

 

Pounding Coy on the back once again, Stryke continues to flail away at his opponent as Coy struggles simply to keep from falling to the canvas. That hope is dashed however as Stryke swipes the champion’s ankle to one side and causes West to fall down and against the ropes. Falling over backward Coy ends up landing on his hands and knees as Stryke looks on with a smile of a IRS auditor who just found out that some old lady is about to lose her house. But the joy does not stop there as Stryke steps backward into the ropes before kicking the USJL Champion as hard as he can in the chest. Sending ‘The Coyote’ rolling over onto his back, Stryke puts his arms in the air as though he just kicked the winning field goal for the Buffalo Bills in a Super Bowl. In other words, we have no idea what kind of football signal that is. Continuing with the assault and battery, Stryke continues to hammer his opponent over the back with a number of hard forearms as West manages to work his way over to the turnbuckles and pulls himself up. But that movement avails West for naught as Stryke continues to punch away at the champion with a continuos flurry of fists. Finally dropping back down the canvas, West struggles to get back up to his feet as Stryke fluffs his shaggy brown hair like some sort of donna that is prima. This of course does nothing for the happiness of the crowd.

 

“YOU STRUCK OUT! YOU STRUCK OUT! YOU STRUCK OUT!”

 

Shaking his head with a dismissive glare, Stryke waves the crowd away as though they could actually back away from the cage if they could. Well if they won’t back off, then Stryke will back them off himself. Grabbing the USJL Champion by the back of the mullet, Stryke winds Coy up and sends him flying into the wall with a sickening…

 

CRASH!

 

Turning his shoulder at the last moment, West manages to protect his head from the shot into the steel. But in the process, his back is sacrificed at the altar of steel and blood. Flopping back to the canvas, West rolls about the ring as the arrogant Stryke just looks on with the happy laugh of a man who thinks he has everything well in hand. Nudging West in the side of the head with his boot, Stryke laughs at the unmoving champion as he starts to look over at the magic door with the lustful eye of a cheap hooker at Richard Gere. Okay… a male cheap hooker looking at Richard Gere. Almost strutting his way over to the referee at the door, Stryke calls for the door to be open. But as the door starts to swing open, West manages to virtually dive across the ring and tackle Stryke around the ankles and bring he challenger down to the canvas. Unwilling to give up on the effort though, Stryke grabs a hold of the bottom rope and tries to hoist himself out of the ring. But it seems as though West has rocks in his pockets as he refuses to allow Stryke to get out of the ring. Rowing a boat while using Stryke as an oar, West manages to pull his challenger wholly out of the reach of the door. But Stryke still has an advantage that he manages to widen as he gets up to his feet and starts to stomp down on the struggling United States Junior League Champion.

 

“Why didn’t West just let Stryke get out of the ring?” calls out Bobby Riley with all the emotion of a puma. “Its not like that hick bastard has a chance here to keep a hold of the US title anyway. He simply doesn’t have the mental aptitude to open a door and walk on through. He will probably try to bash it in with his head. What a joy that will be.”

 

Not looking to test out that theory though, Stryke continues to smash away at West’s back with a hammering forearm in order to double him over. Grabbing West around the arms, Stryke pulls his opponent over into a backslide position before dropping West backward to the canvas with a neckbreaker. Sitting up on the mat after the point of impact, Stryke once again flings his hair about with an arrogant air as the crowd once again fires up a chant.

 

“YOU STRUCK OUT! YOU STRUCK OUT! YOU STRUCK OUT!”

 

Yelling out to the crowd to shut their stupid mouths, Stryke points out to the crowd and continues to berate them all with a series of idle threats. Hoping to show each and every member of the audience just what he would do to them if he got the chance, Stryke grabs Coy by the hair once again and looks to slam him off the metal bars of the cage once again.

 

BUT COY BLOCKS IT!

 

Putting a foot against the wall, Coy manages to keep his head from hitting the metal much to the consternation of his challenger. But no matter how much Stryke might struggle, Coy continues to block the effort. Countering with an elbow to the middle of the chest, Coy doubles Stryke over at the waist much to the delight of the crowd. Grabbing Stryke around the head in response, West jams his challenger’s face against the cage instead! Slamming his entire body back to the canvas, Stryke rolls over onto his chest as West hangs against the cage wall trying to get a second wind to flow through his lungs. Thankfully, that wind starts to flow as West starts to stomp a bit in order to get the flow rolling through his body.

 

“Oh crap,” replies Riley in response to West’s fit of adrenaline. “It looks like Coy is getting the demon again. Where exactly is that exorcist I called?”

 

“I could do it!” pipes up The Comet as Riley looks at him with a cynical eye. “THE PASSION OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU! THE PASSION OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!”

 

“…”

 

“To see the movie. Demons don’t like Mel Gibson movies. This one time I showed Braveheart to a frost demon and it totally exploded.”

 

With that complete brand of idiocy bouncing through their skulls, West and Stryke continue to battle it out as Coy continues to ride the wave of the momentum. Grabbing the struggling Stryke as he gets up off the canvas, West batters him across the face with a hard right hand that immediately drops the Australian back down to the canvas. Going right back on the attack, West pushes the challenger into a turnbuckle and quickly follows him in with a cage-rattling clothesline! Quickly turning Stryke’s head down, West snags him in a headlock before dragging him out of the corner and burying him with a running bulldog. Cramped up at the neck from the maneuver, Stryke’s legs stand in the air at an awkward angle for a moment before falling back to the mat. Rising up to feet, the USJL Champion continues to move through his advantage by dropping a hard leg down across the back of Stryke’s head. Moving his body around, West grabs two handfuls of Stryke’s head and begins to scorch his face back and forth across the hard canvas.

 

“Christ on a cracker,” says The Cyclone Comet as Coy gets up to his feet and stomps Stryke in the back of the head. “I do not think I have ever seen the Coyote so violent and angry. You think Vera might be holding out?”

 

“Either that or she has been upping his punishments,” notes Bobby Riley. “And with that sick thought floating through my head, I will now gouge out my eyes in order to end my pain.”

 

Pulling Stryke up to his knees, West continues to punish his challenger with a hard punch across the face. Stryke tries to cover up his face with both of his arms only to have West respond with a measured kick to he chest. Reaching down, Coy hooks Stryke around the head and pulls him up to his feet before throwing him overhead with a measured vertical suplex. Rolling up to his feet as Stryke grabs onto his back in a spasm, West looks up at the top of the cage with the yearning of a high school senior looking at his freshman date. Leaving Stryke down on the canvas, West starts to climb up the side of the cage wall as the arena starts to rev its engine in the hopes that Coy will be out of the ring in short order. But as West struggles to maneuver his way to the top of the cage, he finds another weight added to his 240 pounds as Stryke gets off in the canvas just in time to grab West by the cuff of his jeans. Stepping up to the middle rope in order to continue blocking his opponent’s path out of the cage, Stryke blasts West from behind with a hard forearm that manages to stave the escape attempt. Pulling Coy off the side of the cage, Stryke manages to allow gravity to take its course and pull the USJL Champion down to the canvas with a sickening thud.

 

WHAM!

 

Rolling into the center of the ring with a hand on the back of his head, Coy can provide himself with no defense as Stryke climbs all the way up to the top rope before dropping down on the USJL Champion with a hard and measured elbow to the chest! Clasping his chest at the point of the impact, West curdles up and dies as Stryke tries to rub away all the assault and battery that came in the last few moments of the match. Entirely not in the mood for anymore fun and games, Stryke straddles West and starts to rain fire down on his opponent. Stepping off West satisfied by the amount of pain he has returned to his opponent, Stryke pulls Coy up to his feet and jams a forearm into the side of his head. Dropping down to a knee with the force of the strike, West tries to fight his way up to his feet onto to be swept down to the canvas with a spinning neckbreaker!

 

“And despite West’s flurry,” calls out The Comet, “it appears as though Stryke has grabbed control of this match yet again. And we have to ask right now if he will have enough to come back here again against the Stryke.”

 

Getting to his feet after the neckbreaker, Stryke wipes the sweat off his brow and flings the moisture at the side of the cage much to the dismay of the people sitting on the other side of said wall. But Stryke doesn’t care about them or any of their immediate family and simply stomps down on Coy’s chest as the crowd continues to boo the actions of the challenger. Grabbing West by the wrist, Stryke flings The Coyote across the ring and quickly smashes him into the corner with a rushing elbow. Immediately following up the elbow with some more forearms that slowly but surely knock West down into the corner where he sits defenseless for the moment. Walking away from West, Stryke puts his arms into the air as the arena just lays into him with the chant that has been very popular thus far tonight.

 

“YOU STRUCK OUT! YOU STRUCK OUT! YOU STRUCK OUT!”

 

WHAM!

 

Riley laughs long and loud, “Looks like Stryke hit one out of the park after all!”

 

Running across the ring at the drop of a hat, Stryke smashes his opponent’s face with a sliding dropkick into the corner. Propping up to his feet immediately after the impact, Stryke looks out to both sides of the ring and bows much to their general disdain. Cocking his head to one side with a smile, Stryke just waves off boos with the casual disregard of a man that really does not give half a damn. Meandering back over to West, Stryke puts a boot into the throat of the USJL Champion and just throttles him with no referee in sight to even give him a warning. Finally breaking off the choke just as West’s lungs are just about on empty, Stryke just continues to smile smugly at all the fun he is having at the expense of the rampaging redneck warrior. But there is a time for fun and a time to win titles and Stryke knows that this is just about the time to time home ten pounds of gold and leather. Stepping into the center of the ring once again, Stryke comes to the conclusion that one more sliding dropkick to the face will be just enough to make sure that West is knocked out long enough to get out of the cage. Moving all the way over to the other corner, Stryke makes like he is a little train before sprinting back over to where West is laying…

 

I should have put that in the past tense…

 

GARUMMMMMMMMMMPH!

 

“West got out of the corner and left all the metal there to catch his opponent!”

 

His legs spreading through the ringside ropes, Stryke groins himself against the ringside strands and falls right into an orgy of pain. Although it would probably be an orgy where they slam your junk with hammers. It’s the bad kind of orgy. Grabbing his stuff as he shakes his way up to his feet Stryke looks about him perhaps for a very good surgeon only to find that a man no one would want to operate on them is there waiting to pounce. Using up some of his remaining energy, West picks Stryke up into a bear hug before jamming him right back down on his manhood with a reverse atomic drop! Further shattered by the move, Stryke seriously thinks about no longer having children as he drops backward to the canvas. Grabbing the challenger by the shoes, West spreads Stryke’s legs apart before kicking him hard and low with all the furry of a man that has had enough dealing with the arrogant heel play book for one evening.

 

Riley admits, “I haven’t seen such an attack on someone’s manhood since Michael Jackson… I’ve said too much.”

 

No longer bothering to compete with the champion, Stryke rolls over to his stomach and starts to crawl over to the cage door in the hopes that this agony between his legs will subside with about two pounds worth of ice. And oddly enough, West lets him go. Seemingly unconcerned with the escape plan of the challenger, USJL Champion Coy West simply meanders behind the crawling Stryke even as the challenger gets his head through the portal. But it is then that Coy simply steps on the spine of his opponent in order to stop the exit. Looking out to the crowd with a sneer plastered across his visage, Coy lifts a thumb up at his side.

 

Riley asks, “What is this? Does Coy think he’s a Roman emperor or something?”

 

And Coy points the thumb down much to the glee of the savage Philadelphia crowd.

 

“I guess he does?”

 

Reaching out with both hands, West grabs the metal door from the hinges and… well it isn’t pretty.

 

CLAAAAANNNNNNNNG!

 

Pulling the cage door into the face of his opponent as hard as he can, West silences the screams of the crowd as he butchers the head of the challenger in the process! Shattered by the impact of the executioner’s metaphorical axe, Stryke goes limp under the force of the impact. Oddly enough… this is not satisfactory for the man standing above the now crushed contender to the USJL throne. Whipping the cage back out for a moment, West swings the cage back into the top of Stryke’s head with the fiery impact of a hundred suns!

 

CLAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNG!

 

With Stryke now entirely comatose, West looks out to the arena crowd once again with a sneer the size of Texas. Wiping the invisible dust off his shoulder, West raises an eyebrow as if to ponder just how much further he wants to take this prolonged torture…

 

Maybe just a little bit farther…

 

CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!

 

The impact crushing Stryke for the final time, West looks out to the humbled masses as he finally releases the door and allows it to swing its way all the way open. Taking his boot off the back of the challenger, West gives Stryke one last little nudge with his foot before walking right through the portal. Standing tall on the apron, West raises an arm into the air before walking down the steps and to the arena floor!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“The winner of this contest… and STILL United States Junior League Champion COYYYYYY WESSSSST!”

 

Not even looking back at the now comatose Stryke, West walks over to the ringside attendant and grabs a hold of the USJL Championship. Flipping the belt up and over his shoulder, West heads back to the ramp way as the crowd cheers at the newer and far more aggressive Coy. Slapping the strap as he walks past the cheering crowd, Coy finally breaks into a smile at his victory. Well we hope that its victory and not the joy that one man gets from smashing another man’s head with a steel cage door. But that is another question for another time. For now the question is if Stryke will wake up some time this week.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

So I know that I've been promising you a prolonged, in-depth comment-fest on your match WC, but after rereading your match, there's not much I can really tell you that would help you improve.

 

This is mainly because your match was just simply very good, and I had to reread both matches twice before making my decision. Zed can testify to how long it took me to mark. Anyhow, the only real thing I had a problem with was a few iffy booking decisions that made the match seem kind of "eh" at times (I'll be honest in that I just didn't really dig the ending... there just didn't seem to be any build-up to it, and it sort of just came out of nowhere despite the fact that it seems like you were trying to make it very low-key and not typical OMGZFINISHEROUTOFNOWHERE! bullshit. However, this really wouldn't matter, usually... it's just that Janus/Aecas mapped out and booked their match PERFECTLY, and I absolutely loved their ending.)... and then some of your more outlandish spots were a bit hard to understand (I know part of WC's character is to pull weird high-flying moves out of his ass, but I think about twice I had to reread a spot two or three times before being able to grasp what just happened.)

 

So uhh... well, work on making your writing style a little clearer, and perhaps you and Johnny should concentrate a little more on psychology and building up to the climax of the match rather than the semi-spottiness that you've got going now... and you'll be fine. It should be noted that I liked your commentary a lot more than Janus/Aecas'.

 

Anyhow, go ahead and PM Zed and ask for a rematch, if you'd like. I'm certain that you deserve one.

[Secret Agent 0]

Well... thanks, TNT. I don't agree with you about the ending because it was an attempt to make someone look good by saying it took a D.F.A. a MI Slam, and a Falling Star Press... and then to add insult to injury a Armed and Dangerous. It's about all two cruisers could do against two hosses as half of WC and Johnny's moves are thrown out the window by not being able to lift them up... well Johnny's anyways, he's the one with the power moves out of the two. And Pyscology... what about all the work to Aecas back, is that not psycology? I'm not being a wise ass here, I'd just like to know if I have been misinformed on what Psycology is all about.

 

I'd like to know, if you could, what you found hard to follow as I wrote half the match, and want to know what I wrote that wasn't clear enough. If you have the time/chance again.

 

Thanks for the feedback, though, I appreaciate you.

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

Hrmm...

 

First off, thanks for the feedback, TNT; I didn't mean to come off as petulant before.

 

I reckon that I have been slacking off on my spot descriptions somewhat; they used to be my strength, but I haven't been putting the same effort into describing Wildchild's body in action that I used to. Motivation has been a problem for me, but I'll get back to that. I'm a bit troubled by what you meant by spots that were hard to follow, though, and would like to ask you to point out a specific example, because I can't think of any spots that I wrote for this match that WC hasn't done a hundred times before, so I don't know whether you thought it was hard to follow because it seemed really contrived and unnatural, or because I did a half-assed job of describing it...

 

I echo Johnny in that I'm not sure that I agree with you about the ending: given the various factors that we had to work with (word limit + W&D's relative lack of strength/UT's insane vitality levels), we couldn't really think of any other way to write a finish where we won that didn't look like a fluke. Having said that, though, I can see what you mean about the lack of build-up to the finish and, to tell you the truth, Johnny and I couldn't really decide on an effective story to tell, which made it difficult to develop a build. When I first saw the card, I had wanted to re-enact Rockers/Faces of Fear from WMVII, but Johnny's never seen it, and I became too busy to flesh it all out by myself, so we sort of decided to go with something else at the last minute... We've been having that problem a lot more recently lately, as I'm predisposed to wanting to reference old matches in my writing, but Johnny hasn't seen as much stuff as I have (and, to be honest, I don't care for a great deal for most of the stuff [post-Attitude WWE] he has watched... ).

 

To be perfectly honest, while we both enjoyed being the Tag Team champions, the chase was much more satisfying to write, specifically the chase for Justice and Rule; Johnny and I felt cheated when Ejiro decided that he wanted to change gimmicks and Judge just up and quit before we ever got a chance to have our big blowoff, and when we finally won, given the circumstances, we very much started to develop a "what now" feeling about our title reign.

 

And I'm just speaking for myself here, but part of the problem I've had with motivating myself is that all of my standard bearers are gone; there's nobody in the fed right now that I want to beat so badly that can motivate myself to write at my very best to beat, except for Tom and Ejiro, and they want different things from what I want. All of the other writers that I measured myself against (Judge, Danny, Craven, Mak, Strangler, Frost) have all retired and/or quit. I was motivated to write for the Cruiserweight division, even after I lost the belt, and then I looked at what most of the other cruiserweights are involved in, and began to realize that the Cruiserweight Title apparently isn't as important to anyone else as it is to me, so that motivation kind of dwinidled...

 

At any rate, I thank you again for the feedback; you've given me something to think about, and a starting point to improve from.

 

 

- Dub "all I have to do now is go to the Emerald City and ask the Wizard for a heart" Cee

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

Glad I could be of some assistance. As far as psychology is concerned, I'll tell you what -- I'll ask Danny to read your match and do one of his reviews on it. He can do this much better than I can and I always found that back when I was in the fed, Danny had the most helpful comments (especially psychology-wise) than anyone. So I'll go ahead and talk to him, and if he has the time, then hopefully he can give you a pretty in-depth look on the match's psychological flaws. It really wasn't so much that your psychology/build-up was bad, but more of just me thinking that Janus/Aecas' was a bit better, anyhow.