SWF LOCKDOWN AAAH!

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

As the clock strikes 5:00pm, the last commercial ends and we present…

 

[Earlier in the day]

 

Coming barreling through the gates without so much as slowing a hair, the bus races through the parking lot, swerving this way and that to avoid hitting the few cars already parked in seemingly random spots. Inside, there is a furious struggle for the wheel.

 

* * * * *

 

“Let go!” Dripping with sweat and panting, Stillwell struggles to regain control of the wheel. His counterpart, nearly losing his balance with every turn, holds on as doggedly as a leech.

 

“No! They’re in here, Stillwell! You’re taking us right into an ambush!” Tristan Whitt pulls on the wheel with all of his strength, seizing it from Stillwell and swerving the bus nearly to the point of tipping. He sets it on a steady path, but he forgets about Stillwell. Regaining his composure, he clocks Tryst across the face with a right hand, sending him sprawling down the stairs and into the door. He lies there a moment, bewildered, and then slowly stands back up.

 

“Clearly you will not listen to reason, Stillwell. The least you can do is take me where I wish.” Stillwell, shaking his head in wonder, appears to disagree.

 

“I’m not sure that I should take you anywhere, Tristan. You’re sounding a bit off today.”

 

“As opposed to what, friend? Shall I merely look the other way when wrong gets the high-ground over right? Should I just turn my back like those traitors who call themselves law enforcement? Should I just submit to the Sheriff and be done with it all?” Stillwell looks away from Tryst’s disheartened gaze. His disheartening gaze. He has that effect, sometimes. People can feed off of his energy one way or another. Whether they want to or not. Whether they realize it or not. Taking a deep breath, Stillwell presses down on the brakes with ample pressure. As the bus stops, he turns to his friend.

 

“I’m sorry, Tristan. It’s just that…you and I see things so very differently. You must see that too.”

 

“I don’t see how we’re different. You’re a good man. A good friend. What else matters?”

 

Removing his foot from the brake, Stillwell pushes down the accelerator with something of a wariness in his movements. “Just point.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Alright Tristan, we’re here,” Stillwell confirms. Glancing back toward his companion, he sees him running toward the back of the topless bus, just in time for Tryst to leap up to the back of the vehicle and corkscrew into the air. From there, time seems to slow to a crawl. He twists through the air like a deity, his cloak wrapped around him like a second skin as he eagerly unsheathes his sword. The light in his eyes, dangerous as ever, burns like the sun as his gaze sweeps through the trees to one side, the alley behind the arena to the other. No sooner has he landed that armored men begin flooding out from the alley and arrows rain down like a metal hail from the trees. Flourishing his sword in a dance, he dodges the arrows one after another as the men rushing from the alley bare their swords in their warrior’s trance. Spinning to face them, he strikes his sword down and slices an on-coming arrow in half. The men in front stumble a second and are nearly trampled for it as the horde stampedes forward. Raising their swords, they swing down in near unison.

 

“Tristan!” Stillwell frantically scours his mind for some form of aid, but ends up wanting. A loud collision of steel-on-steel initiates the inevitable. From Stillwell’s vantage point, Tristan is about to be swallowed. But as he rushes to leap out of the top of the bus, the tide is remarkably changing. One after another, attacker is being sent sprawling, crashing, rolling to the ground beneath him. Swinging his sword like an extension of himself, Tryst meets every thrust with a parry and disarms his assailants at an alarming pace. Within moments, nearly half are retreating. There are, however, the rougher sorts moving in for the kill. Spreading out to increase their chances of success, six move in at once. The furthest to the right stabs in with his sword only to be slashed across with wrist, courtesy of The Sherwood Fable. The furthest left tries to take advantage, striking at Tristan’s back, but Tryst leans backward and dodges the strike, and then plants a kick right into his face. The other four strike one after the other in rapid succession. Tristan dodges this way and that, fending off strike after strike until he slips, and receives a slash on the waist to show for it. Stumbling, he finishes off his final assailant with a slash to the ankle.

 

Slowly peering out to look for any armored men still standing, Stillwell makes his way out of the bus and reaches Tryst’s side just as his comrade stumbles. “Tristan…are you alright?”

 

“I am fine.” Breathing a bit heavily, Tristan sheathes his sword as he looks down at the man who stole a piece of his flesh. “….fiends. The lot of them.”

 

“I’m really not sure what just happened, but you should go to a hospital. I don’t think you’re going to be able to go tonight.”

 

Tryst scoffs at the idea. “Evil doesn’t rest, Stillwell. Neither can I.”

 

The camera pulls back to survey the carnage, the mass of armored men as Stillwell helps Tristan hobble on towards the arena.

 

* * * * *

 

“Cue the music! Cue the fireworks! Cue the video! PUT THE KIDS TO BED, CAUSE WE’RE ABOUT TO LOCK THIS MOTHER DOWN!” The Lockdown logo flashes across the screen to the show opening dissertation by the one and only Cyclone Comet.

 

“It’s been fifteen seconds and you’re ALREADY spouting nonsense? Ugh. It’s going to be a long night, folks. Tune out while you still can!” Riley, obviously not feeling the energy from the crowd, chimes in with the role of the cynic. “I don’t know why you still wear that costume anyway, Comet. Everyone knows you’re not the REAL one anymore.”

 

“….what did you say? Not real?”

 

“Right,” replies Riley. “You’re probably the third or fourth Comet that we’ve had. I mean, it’s -----”

 

“Liar! You’re just jealous of my licensing rights! I will have you know that I’ll be taking none of your antics tonight, MISTER. So you can cut that out right now.”

 

“What? MY antics? You’re the crazy ----”

 

“NONE!” Comet gets to his feet and plays up the crowd a bit, shaking his head down at Riley, who raises an eyebrow but refuses to stand up.

 

“Whatever. In any case, we’ve got what I’m sure I’m supposed to say is a great show for you tonight. Hey, am I the only one that’s bothered by the fact that we blindly endorse these shows before they even happen?”

 

Climbing down off of his desk, Comet looks at Riley quizzically. “What do you mean?”

 

“We always open the show telling the viewers how great the show is going to be, don’t we?”

 

“Of course,” responds Comet. “If we don’t tell them, how will they know?!”

 

“But how do WE even know?”

 

“…what do you mean?”

 

“Well,” starts Riley, “We haven’t even seen the show.”

 

“….and?”

 

“And we’re telling them that it’s great.”

 

“It IS!”

 

“But how do you know?”

 

“….what do you mean?”

 

Riley smacks himself in the forehead and sighs, knowing that he shouldn’t have even brought it up. “Nevermind. Let’s get someone out here so we can talk about them.”

 

“First up, we have the return of Tristan Whitt to SWF Television with his SWF Debut, right here, tonight!”

 

“He’s up first, facing off against Something Maddix.”

 

“That’s right. He ---- wait! Did you just say ‘Something Maddix’?”

 

Riley shrugs. “I dunno. Probably.”

 

“Landon.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“That’s his name.”

 

“Oh. Well, I don’t care.”

 

“Aren’t you rooting for him?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Shouldn’t you know the names of the men you are rooting for?”

 

“I don’t see why.”

 

“….right. ANYWAY! As shown in the footage we’ve just viewed, The Sherwood Fable would appear to have been wounded in a showdown with Nottingham’s Minions out in the parking lot. His status for tonight is questionable, as nobody has actually seen him inside the arena.”

 

Riley laughs. “He’s crazier than you, you know. It’d be best for everyone if he just vanishes and never comes around here. Ratings or no, he brings with him a permanent full moon!”

 

Comet takes the defensive. “I fight villains. If that makes me crazy, then lock me up.”

 

“I tried,” yawns Riley. “Didn’t work.

 

“Right. In any case, I personally can’t wait to see Tristan Whitt in the ring…and if the hype I’ve been hearing is any indication, the fans can’t either!”

 

Cyclone Comet’s words proved to be a summons, as the moment they left his mouth, the Smarktron started up. Letter by letter, a message is spelled out for everyone watching.

 

 

 

 

F I E N D S B E W A R E !

 

 

 

 

 

“He’s HEEEEEEEEEERRRRE!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“…hooray.”

 

The lights drop out section by section as “Forest” by System of a Down begins its rising melody, and the crowd, relatively subdued until now, detonates like a gasoline tanker.

 

“AND SO WE BEGIN!”

 

A voice screams over the P.A. system. The fans rumble, getting louder and louder still with every passing moment. The Smarktron flashes to life as we enter into the forest...run...running through. Dodging the branches and leaves. Leaping over the fallen old trees. The Darkness begins to take hold as clouds cover the sky in the night...but in one place, they begin to part. The moon makes an appearance, and it shines down upon the forest. As a solitary figure emerges from the trees, the moon catches hold of his eyes and lights them up like a blue flame, supernatural. Staring forward, he lets no distraction take hold of him; and so he reaches over his back and grabs an arrow from his quiver...pulls it back...and lets it fly. The stage explodes in blue flame as the entryway raises a white hot light that stretches across itself and draws attention to the shadow emerging from the tunnel. He takes one step. Another. And then he stops, staring out into the sea of his admirers as they welcome him into their hearts as a hero.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen...making his Smartmarks Wrestling Federation debut…you know him as the Sherwood Fable...he stands at six feet, one inch tall...and he weighs in at two hundred and eighteen pounds...hailing from Bairnsdale, Britain...he is TRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTT!!!!!!!!!”

 

He bolts down the ramp, heading straight for the ring as the crowd continues to cheer. Diving in, he quickly gets back to his feet and tosses his bow and quiver to the timekeeper as he leaps to the second rope at the turnbuckle, lifting his arms up to the crowd as they continue to cheer some more. As “Forest” fades out, he jumps back down off of the turnbuckle and turns around, jumping around a bit to loosen up as he stares down towards the entryway, awaiting his first bout in several months. His first chance to prove his merit in the big leagues. His chance to lay the foundation for a legend.

 

“Can you feel the intensity in those big, blue eyes, Riley?”

 

“I personally don’t like to stare into other men’s eyes, Comet. So that’d be a no.”

 

“Oh. Well, I can feel it, and the crowd can too! He’s amped and ready to go!”

 

“…and he’s asking for a microphone.”

 

Tryst, microphone in hand, waits for the crowd to stop cheering him before raising it to his lips to speak. Then, when he does, they start up again, and he has to wait longer. Finally, they quiet down for him to say his peace.

 

“Hello. My name is Tristan Whitt, for those of you who don’t know me. For those who do, let me just say thank you for the warm welcome. Though I’ve never traveled to this place, it feels like home right now.” Whether intended or not, this sets off the crowd, and he has to wait again before he can restart. “Now, on to more pressing matters….Fiends.” Unexpectedly, the crowd cuts Tryst off yet again, but this time with a chorus of boos. The crowd does not like fiends, it seems. “It is no secret that I valiantly fight the evil forces of the Sheriff of Nottingham. What is a secret, however, is who in the SWF is working with him. That was no random happening, that ambush earlier. It seems I have some hunting to do. As such, I must publicly announce the mission that I have returned to accomplish. I am going to cleanse the SWF of this vermin, one by one. There is no place around here for a citadel of deceit. I will not allow it. And so, I make it known right now; anyone who wishes to join me on my mission is most welcome. Anyone who doesn’t…consider yourself a target. The rebellion begins tonight.”

 

As he tosses the microphone back to the timekeeper, the crowd marks out again; this time for The Sherwood Fable’s declaration of war on the fiends of the SWF.

 

“You see that?” queries Riley. “He’s crazy.”

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

SWF LOCKDOWN FOR APRIL 14TH, 2004! *LIVE* FROM THE *SOLD OUT* SEC TAYLOR STADIUM IN DES MOINES, IOWA!

 

 

MAIN EVENT

TRIPLE THREAT TAG TEAM MATCH

FOR THE WORLD TAG TEAM TITLES

Janus & Aecas© vs Tom Flesher & Ann Onita vs Mike Van Siclen & Todd Cortez

Who is Todd Cortez? And why does he have a title match in his debut? And what the crap is he doing with Mike Van Siclen? What the hell is anyone doing with Mike Van Siclen? Can Tom Flesher and Annie Onita get along? Why all these questions? Do the tag champs care?

Rules: Triple threat rules, first pinfall or submission wins. You CANNOT tag out to any corner, you can only tag out to your own partner.

 

Danny Williams vs John Duran

Danny Williams pinned the World Champion in Storm’s main event. That’s something Duran needs to do at the next Pay Per View if the wants the title for himself. But there’s a thing as testing your mettle, and seeing if you have what it takes. It’s gut check time for the leader of the Unnamed, as he tries to beat the man who beat the man he needs to beat.

 

Nathaniel Kibagami vs Toxxic

Toxxic’s hot streak is over, and so is his ICTV title, now around double champ Janus’s waist. In his first match since defeat he faces Nathaniel Kibagami, who is pretty much probably going to kill him being he is so pissed off. A loss to Alan Clark is something he cannot put up with.

Rules: Singles match, DQ & Countout apply.

 

CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Alan Clark© vs Johnny Dangerous

Johnny finally gets his shot, as Clark rides an amazing wave of momentum with a win over returning Nathaniel Kibagami.

Rules: Cruiserweight rules.

 

HARDCORE MATCH

Crow vs Dace Night

Crow’s back! And what better way to welcome him than with a situation he’s quite familar with. Dace Night. Hardcore rules.

Rules: None, baby.

 

USJL TITLE MATCH

Stryke© vs Coy West vs Todd Royal

Todd and Coy have targetted each other and Stryke beat Coy for the title. There’s your backstory.

 

BONUS MATCH FOR AN SWF CONTRACT

“La Sensation Senegalaise” Said vs “El Hombre Sin Cara” Maskarade

 

Austin Sly vs Insane Luchadore

Newbie versus veteran AMAZING BATTEL!!!

Rules: Singles match, DQ & Countout apply.

 

Landon Maddix vs Tryst

With the Unnamed in his corner, does Maddix stand a chance of losing to Tryst?

Rules: Singles match, DQ & Countout apply.

 

 

 

 

Bitchin'.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

"And we're BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!"

 

 

SWF Lockdown returns to the airwaves from it's brief break, with 'The Sherwood Fable' Tryst remaining in the ring, prepared for his return to in-ring action. He'll have to wait a little longer however, as the camera is busy panning around the flesh filled Sec Taylor Stadium. Once the paying public have got their faces on T.V, the shot cuts to the SWF's trusty and above all cheap announce partnership...

 

"Welcome back to Lockdown..." Comet greets us. "...with Battleground about a week away, that pre-PPV tension is rising through us. And, with that in mind, the SWF roster is jockeying for position on the card...perhaps none more-so than Landon Maddix. Tonight, he faces the returning Tryst, looking to prove his worth to Alex Zenon..."

 

"Which is RIDICULOUS!"

 

"How so..."

 

"Well, Landon has already proven himself! Beating Grappler, Annie, Flesher...yet, Zenon brings Tryst back from the dead to face him, when Landon should be going for gold..."

 

Riley's opinionated rant is cut short, as the lights around the arena begin to dim into darkness. Knowing what's coming the crowd subsequently break into some opinionated rants of their own...

 

"Dirty Dog

I'm, I'm a dirty dog

I'm a dirty dog

I'm, I'm a dirty dog

Dirty Dog

I'm a dirty dog

Dirty Dog"

 

N.E.R.D's "Lapdance" begins to kick into gear...the arena now being illuminated by four bright blue spotlights blaring out from the stage. From the back Landon Maddix emerges, with Megan Skye a matter of steps behind him. Landon stops on the stage for a moment as Megan stands beside him, as the twosome begin receiving some heavy duty boos from the crowd.

 

"This contest is scheduled for one fall...introducing, representing The Unnamed and accompanied by his 'perfect 10' Megan Skye. From Huron, South Dakota...weighing two hundred and ten pounds...LAAANDOOON 'LA CUCARACHA'...MAAADDIIIIIX!!!"

 

The jeering increases as Funyon dies down, whilst Maddix and Megan begin to storm collectively down the rampway.

 

"Landon looks fired up here tonight..."

 

"Of course he is!" snaps Riley. "After what Zenon said to Maddix, he's been permanently pissed off!"

 

"That's too bad..."

 

Getting to the bottom of the ramp, Maddix suddenly breaks into a run, sliding into the ring as Soapdish begins to frantically call for the bell.

 

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

The bell finally rings just as Landon slides into the ring. Immediately he hops to his feet and charges at Tryst, who swings out, but finds nothing but air, as Maddix ducks under the right hand and continues on to the ropes. Hitting them, Landon springs off but Tryst is prepared, thrusting his right boot out and catching Landon with a mule kick! From the impact Maddix doubles over, as Tryst quickly breaks into a run off the ropes of his own. Recovering quickly, Maddix begins to charge towards Tryst, but the Brit athletically leapfrogs the charging Disciple. Maddix stops for a moment in confusion, turning around slowly to receive a beautiful standing dropkick which causes him to career backwards, and tumble through the ropes to the outside!

 

Once Landon realises where he is, he angrily slams his hands on the mat as Megan rushes over to check on him.

 

 

"LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!"

 

The chants re-start, as Maddix begins to roll cautiously back into the ring, with the approval of Megan Skye. Rather than rush as he did moments ago though, Maddix has now cooled himself down and seemingly wants to lock-up with Tryst. He complies, and both men snap forward into a tie-up moments later. Immediately Landon begins to push himself forward, trying to find some traction with his feet, but Tryst stands steady. Both men continue to jostle for position, until Landon suddenly squirms free and slides behind Tryst with a quick roll-up...

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOCOUNTONLY!

 

With a smug smile, Landon shows Tryst just how close the fall was, as The Sherwood Fable gets back up. Trying to get himself in check Tryst takes a moment to psyche himself up.

 

"Landon nearly caught Tryst napping!" Comet exclaims.

 

Again both men stride forward, and begin to engage in another lock-up. Landon stops short however, and pops the unsuspecting Tryst in the jaw with a jab. A couple more right hands quickly follow, as Maddix backs Tryst up into the ropes...where he tries to fight back with rights of his own, but Maddix is quick to cut him off with a knee to the gut before whipping him off the ropes. However, as Tryst hits the ropes, he manages to hook hold of the top strand and stop his momentum. Landon now has to adjust...deciding to sprint at Tryst. That’s what the Brit was waiting for however, and as Landon reaches him Tryst launches The Disciple into the air, and drops him throat first across the top rope! As Landon rebounds, Tryst takes Maddix down by the leg and into a roll-up...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWOOOOO!!!

 

"And now Tryst catches Landon out!" Comet booms. "It's a stalemate so far..."

 

This time it's Tryst's turn to tell Landon how close the fall was. Landon responds by rolling to the outside again, holding his throat in pain. Quickly Tryst rolls out after Landon, only for Maddix to turn and drive his boot into Tryst's gut! Now back in control, Landon grabs Tryst by the hair and throws his opponent face first into the ring post with a CLUNK! As Tryst rebounds off the post, he’s dazed and collapses back against the post, as quickly Maddix closes in on Tryst, and tears off his dark green shirt before wielding his right arm...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOO!!!"

 

...chopping the HELL out of Tryst's bare chest! As Tryst grimaces in pain, Maddix swings again...

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOO!!!"

 

...and lands another knifedge chop. Now with a smug smile on his face, Landon aims another...

 

...but Tryst ducks...

 

 

*CLUNK!*

 

...AND LANDON CHOPS THE RING POST!!!

 

 

"Oh god!" Comet gasps.

 

"Did you HEAR that Comet!?! This isn't good..." laments Riley.

 

"Landon may have fractured his wrist."

 

Quickly Megan begins to scurry over to check on Landon, but she stops short as Tryst moves in on Landon. Grabbing his opponent's limp right arm, Tryst swings and hurls it into the ring post again, causing another yelp of pain from Landon! Desperate, Maddix looks for an escape and rolls back into the ring, but Tryst is just a step behind him. Now The Disciple is in immense pain, trying to get some feeling back in his arm...but Tryst capitalises by kicking Maddix in the shoulder, dropping him to one knee.

 

"And now, Tryst has a decided advantage. Citizen Maddix's arm is seemingly hanging by a string."

 

Tryst quickly clamps hold of Landon's arm, and locks it into a armbar which brings out more anguished wails. Slowly Maddix fights the pain and begins to get to his feet, with the armbar still locked in. As he does Tryst releases the hold but not the arm, pushing Maddix back a step before pulling him back into a big armdrag takeover! Tryst then transitions over into a fujiwara armbar, and Landon is suddenly in BIG trouble. Quickly the Brit leans back, pushing up on his toes to add maximum leverage, as Maddix's shoulder is on popping point.

 

"Landon may very well be on the verge of tapping here..." Comet begins.

 

"Don't count out The Disciple...especially with the Will of Todd on his side."

 

"Todd Royal and his 'will' aren't going to help him in this fujiwara armbar..."

 

"Don’t underestimate the Will of Todd!"

 

Pure determination etches Tryst's face as he wrenches back on the arm with ferocious intent. Landon knows perhaps his only escape is the ropes, and with his good arm he tries to reach for them...but Tryst's entire body weight is fixed upon him. Unable to reach, Landon suddenly places his free arm on the mat, and bridges upwards...as Tryst's momentum works against him, as he suddenly slides over Landon's back, allowing Maddix to get a pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW...

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Tryst is quickly out, and back up. Maddix gets to his feet too, and begins to walk towards Tryst, who is waiting...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOO!!!"

 

...with a knifedge chop! Landon recoils, as Tryst again takes hold of The Disciple's arm. However Landon starts to fire off with a series of left hands straight away, until Tryst releases him. As Maddix stops in pain, Tryst recovers and goes for the arm again...but again, it's left hands that cause him to release his grip. Relentlessly Tryst goes for the arm a third time...

 

...but gets a left thumb to the eye!

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

"Well, that'll change the tide of the match." Riley says innocently as sin.

 

Tryst clamps his hand over his now injured eye, as Maddix again tries to get some feeling back into his arm. However, seeing Tryst recovering, Maddix ignores his arm and instead drops into a position of readiness. Tryst is turning slowly around, but as he gets around, Landon fires a superkick FLUSH into Tryst's jaw!!!

 

"YES! SWEET DISCIPLE MUSIC!" exclaims Riley.

 

"What!?!"

 

"Shut up. If I say it enough times, it'll stick."

 

Tryst seems to be out cold, as Maddix drops down for a cover...having to hook the far leg, because his arm is too weak to hook the near one...

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP!

 

Cursing under his breath, Landon pulls himself back up and starts to put the boots to Tryst to stop him from getting up. Now boos once more fill the arena, as the furious Maddix continues to land stomps to the head and neck area of Tryst. Soapdish moves in and pulls Maddix away eventually, which allows Tryst some recovery time.

 

As Tryst pulls himself back up again, Landon tucks his arm into his body before tumbling forward, and catching Tryst in the head with a rolling Koppu kick!!! Tryst hits the mat in a near unconscious heap, as Landon crawls over with a grimace, and drops his body across Tryst's...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

ANOTHER KICKOUT!

 

Quickly Maddix scrambles to his feet, and The Brit follows, but as he reaches his knees Maddix breaks forward...launching himself off the mat, and hooking around Tryst's head with a picture-perfect shining WIZAAAAAAD~! Again Tryst slumps to the mat, as Landon makes another desperate attempt at a pinfall.

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDERUPAGAIN!

 

Angrily Landon slams his good arm to the mat in frustration, as Soapdish brandishes two damning fingers in response.

 

 

"With that bad arm, Maddix is resorting to knock-out attempts to end this match as quickly as possible." Comet points out.

 

"There's not much else he CAN do, seeing how this idiot Tryst damn near broke his arm!"

 

"Well, actually, Landon hit his own arm on the ring post...but...whatever.”

 

Getting back to his feet Landon backs up into the corner, rubbing away at his shoulder. Megan offers to do it for him, but knowing what that would probably lead to, Maddix declines...and instead, with a grimace Landon pats his right leg, looking for another knockout attempt. Tryst pulls himself in the center of the ring, but is clearly still dazed as Maddix finds a spring in his step. Launching forwards, Maddix swings out with another superkick attempt...

 

...but Tryst ducks!

 

"WOAH!"

 

Maddix nearly collides with referee Soapdish, but JUST manages to stop himself in time. This momentary pause has given time for Tryst to gain his bearings, and now he is lining up Landon. Maddix pats Soapdish on the head, as if to say 'you got lucky', before turning around to see Tryst swinging with a forearm smash. Just at the last second Landon ducks however, catching a hold of Tryst under the throat, and looking for an exploder suplex...

 

 

...but his arm isn't strong enough, which gives Tryst chance to fall back and counter with an armbreaker variation!

 

"There you see it. Landon just CANNOT use that arm!" Comet says excitedly. "And just like that, Tryst is back in the ascendancy!"

 

As Maddix clutches his arm in some more serious discomfort, Tryst crawls over to the ropes, using them to pull himself up. Once on his feet, Tryst groggily stumbles over towards Landon and takes a hold of Landon's arm. Despite the screams in protest from both Landon and Megan, Tryst lines up the arm...laying it onto the mat, and placing one of his feet on Maddix's wrist, holding the arm in place. As if that wasn't bad enough, Tryst then lifts his other leg off the mat, and DRIVES it into the shoulder!

 

"YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH"

 

The crowd pop, as they see Landon's pained expression grow, as meanwhile Tryst walks to the ropes, firing up the crowd as he's now enjoying his return to the ring. Nodding his head, Tryst now calls for one more as he walks back over towards Maddix. But, as Tryst reaches down for Landon's arm, the resourceful Disciple shoots his leg into the air…

 

*SMACK!*

 

…and catches Tryst across the head! Tryst is now dazed, as he backs up a couple of steps from the impact. Landon meanwhile pulls himself up off the mat, but again his dynamic nature is halted by the stabbing pains in his arm. Gallantly The Disciple grits his teeth through the pain, and walks over to Tryst, swinging with lefts. Noticing that they aren't working, Maddix instead pushes Tryst up against the ropes and slams his knee into the gut of The Sherwood Fable. A second knee connects, followed by a third, as Tryst grunts in discomfort.

 

"Look at this heart...look at this determination..." reels off Riley in awe.

 

Tryst suddenly swings and connects with a right hand...but Landon fires straight back, with a left handed jab to the eyes.

 

"...yeah, look at the cheating!" Comet snaps in response to Riley.

 

Instinctively Landon grabs Tryst and looks to whip him across the ring, using his right hand. Tryst manages to put the brakes on mid-whip however, which almost causes him to yank Maddix's arm out of the socket! Looking to capitalise Tryst charges at Landon who is now backed-up against the ropes in pain, and crossbodies into him...causing BOTH he and Maddix to topple up and over the top rope. The only difference is Maddix slams into the floor, where-as Tryst luckily lands safely on the apron. Quickly Tryst recovers and pulls himself up on the apron, looking down at Landon who is trying to regroup on the outside.

 

 

 

Megan Skye is now over to help Maddix, who is yet again clutching his right arm. Her trusty towel provides no relief for the injured shoulder, as meanwhile Tryst re-enters the ring. Looking out to Maddix, Tryst holds his arms aloft to garner some crowd support, before slingshotting himself up to the top rope. Tryst takes a moment to gain his balance, before launching to the floor with a springboard plancha...

 

 

...MEGAN PULLS LANDON AWAY...

 

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...AND TRYST CRASHES INTO THE STEEL BARRICADE!!!

 

 

"OOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

"Merciful Methuselah..." screams Riley. "Oh, wait...that's your line."

 

"Megan Skye has interjected herself into this match...and may have just caused Tryst to crash and burn out of commission!"

 

As Tryst lays flat out on the floor, Landon is more concerned with Megan Skye wrenching his arm to save him. Shrugging that off, The Disciple quickly begins to pull Tryst up from the concrete floor, before slowly and painfully rolling his dead weight back into the ring. Landon follows in quickly, and shoves Tryst away from the ropes before making the cover...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH...

 

 

 

TWWWOOOOO!!!

 

Landon furiously casts a glare at Soapdish as he climbs to his knees, before placing the front of his boot across Tryst's forehead...and BOOTSCRAPING~! Tryst! The temporarily blinded Tryst tries desperately to pull himself back up, as Landon walks over to the corner, and begins to scale the ropes.

 

"Maddix to the top...we thought this would be a high flying match! Better late than never I guess." Comet says with a chuckle.

 

Just as Landon reaches the top, the dis-orientated Tryst staggers back...into shooting range for Maddix, who launches off the top rope. Like a scud missile, Maddix cuts through the air towards Tryst, and the Brit is unable to avoid a flying headbutt to the jaw from La Cucaracha!!!

 

"Prepare For Landon!" Riley squeals in schoolgirlish glee.

 

Although the landing jolted Landon's shoulder, he is near enough to Tryst to drop his good left arm across him...

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR...

 

 

NOKICKOUTYETAGAIN!!!

 

"YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

Maddix is now clearly getting frustrated as his inability to put Tryst away. Clambering up to his feet, Landon yells that "It's all over now!", as he grabs Tryst by the legs and drags him as best possible towards one corner of the ring. Again Tryst is groggily regaining his feet, as Landon eases himself up to the middle rope...prompting boos from the crowd.

 

"Here we go!" yells Riley. "Crash Landon...time to end this!"

 

"But...can Landon hit it with his injured shoulder?"

 

It looks as if Tryst is in prime position, as he begins to turn around towards Maddix...and gets his head hooked. Understandably he desperately attempts to fight out, peppering Maddix's midsection with right hands until his grip weakens, before grabbing a hold of Landon's arm, and arm wringering his way out of the grip completely. Again Maddix clutches at his shoulder, as Tryst suddenly yanks Landon from off the middle rope and into a BIG arm-drag which LAUNCHES Landon across the ring! Hitting the mat hard, Landon bounces up, but is dis-orientated, allowing Tryst to charge and boot him in the chest. He staggers back into the ropes, as Tryst prepares for the Crusade...

 

...but, Megan Skye grabs Maddix by the foot...tripping her man, but saving him from almost certain defeat!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

Un-deterred, Tryst has suddenly FIRED UP~! from his anger, as he pulls Maddix to his feet and nails a big right hand! Before Maddix can even react, Tryst hits a second right hand to the top of the head...and a third...and a fourth...and suddenly, Tryst is firing away with rapid blows which are slowly dropping Maddix to his knees. Finally Landon falls, as Tryst throws his arms aloft in his frenzied state. Now it's The Disciple who is groggy and dazed, as Tryst grabs a handful of Maddix's hair and forces him back up. Once again Tryst goes back to the arm, grabbing a hold of the limp limb and nearly twisting it off with an arm wringer! Landon drops to one knee, as Tryst twists again with a second arm wringer!

 

"Tryst going back to the arm..." Cyclone comments. "I'm not sure what he has in his arsenal that could make Maddix submit though."

 

"Maybe he can get Friar Tuck out here to sit on Landon."

 

In desperation Maddix grabs a handful of Tryst's pants and tugs him forward into a knee to the gut. Tryst releases Landon in his shock, as quickly The Disciplical One hooks on a front facelock...but Tryst is quick to twist out of the predicament with another arm wringer! Going with what works, Landon again pulls Tryst into a knee to the gut, before locking on another front facelock...this time with his left arm. Quickly Maddix lifts his right leg into the air, before snapping back and DRILLING Tryst with a SNAP DDT! Now Landon has the advantage, but he wants the match over with and makes the cover...

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH...

 

 

 

TWWWOOOOO!!!

 

Still Maddix can't put Tryst away, and frustration is once again sinking in. Angrily he makes another cover...

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THERE'SANOTHERKICKOUT!

 

"LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!"

 

The distinctly un-flattering chanting rings out again, as Maddix shakes his head and gets back to his feet...grabbing a hold of Tryst's right leg, as he pulls him away from the ropes. A quick kick by Tryst connects, but Landon retaliates with a boot to the inside of the knee, before pointing to the heavens above with a glint in his eye.

 

"YES! WRATH OF TODD!" Riley exclaims gleefully. "What better way could there be to win!?!"

 

Boos fill the arena yet again, as Maddix spins around Tryst's right leg. However, the Brit is privy to Maddix's actions...placing his left boot into Maddix's 'keister', and pushing him away. On a collision course with the turnbuckles, Maddix instinctively ducks away from the top turnbuckle...

 

*SMACK!*

 

...ONLY TO CRASH SHOULDER FIRST INTO THE RING POST!!!

 

 

As Landon staggers out, Tryst pulls him over by the right arm and DRIVES the point of his elbow to the shoulder blade. Maddix wails in pain, as Tryst takes his elbow once again and drops it into Landon's shoulder a second time. Continuing his armwork, Tryst ducks under Maddix's arm and twists it with another arm wringer, before pushing Landon a step back...before summoning the power of THE SNAKE~!, and yanking Maddix back towards a short arm clothesline...

 

 

...which he ducks...

 

 

...AND COUNTERS WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX!!!

 

 

"Landon Maddix just pulled up ALL he had left in that right arm, and used it to throw Tryst with a german suplex!" Comet says breathlessly.

 

In desperation, Maddix crawls over to Tryst, who has rolled onto his front to prevent being pinned. Landon however rolls Tryst onto his back, painfully hooking the leg and makes the cover...

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR...

 

 

 

SHOULDERUPBYTRYST!!!

 

 

"YEAAAAHHH!!!"

 

"Citizen Maddix had to turn Tryst over...and that brief pause was enough to allow Tryst to recover."

 

"A lucky break if you ask me." Riley sneers.

 

Quickly Maddix pulls himself up, and with a snarling look on his face he encourages Tryst to get back up. Slowly he begins to do so, as Maddix waits for another opportunity to strike. As Tryst makes his feet, Landon drops to a crouching position, before springing into the air and catching Tryst in the jaw with a Dropsault! However, as Tryst collapses to the mat, Landon seems to land on his arm which prevents him from capitalising.

 

"C'mon Landon! Pin him!" squeals Riley in desperation.

 

Second after second passes, with Maddix favouring his arm and Megan shouting encouragement over the jeering masses. Eventually Landon shrugs off the pain, and crawls over to cover Tryst...

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!

 

 

"Todd Damn It! What does it take to put this goof away!"

 

"Tryst has proven himself a worthy opponent for Landon here tonight!" Comet says, ignoring Bobbo.

 

Wearily, The Disciple hauls Tryst to his knees…but receives a stiff, stinging jab to the ribcage! Rocked momentarily, Maddix stops in his tracks, as Tryst starts to bring the fist and fire as he starts to drive his fists repeatedly into Maddix’s breadbasket, until he’s sucking wind like Roddy Piper on heat. As the flurry finally ceases, a dis-believing Disciple drops to his knees momentarily, still clutching his right shoulder in pain. Tryst meanwhile is recovering too, groggy from the numerous head-shots he has taken...but up nonetheless. Landon drags himself up and thrusts forward a boot...but Tryst catches him, and pulls Landon forward for a northern lights suplex. Not content with that however, Tryst quickly hooks Landon's right arm in a hammerlock...

 

 

...but that gives Landon chance to boot Tryst SQUARELY between the legs!!!

 

 

 

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

Tryst's grip loosens, as Maddix floats over Tryst and takes him over with an Oklahoma Roll...

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Landon hooks his legs over Tryst's for extra leverage...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEE!!!

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

 

"YES!" erupts Riley over the crowd's boos. "Finally it's over!"

 

 

"Lapdance" hits to resounding jeers, as Maddix releases the cradle, and drags himself to the floor with Megan scuttling over to help him.

 

"Here is your winner by pinfall...LAAANDOOON....MAAADDIIIX!!!"

 

Megan raises Landon's left arm triumphantly in the air upon the confirmation, and attempts a hug which Landon shrugs away in pain. Instead she stands up, and jumps in her own personal glee...as Tryst looks on from the ring in utter disbelief.

 

"Landon Maddix wins...and to the surprise of no-one, he had to CHEAT to do it!" snarls Comet.

 

"The way I see it, he won with a WRESTLING hold..." Riley counters.

 

"That’s your opinion…you’ll surely stick with it. We’ll be right back…"

 

As Tryst angrily looks down at Landon’s ecstatic celebration, Lockdown cuts to a commercial break…

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

SWF Storm returns, and Landon Maddix remains at ringside after his grueling battle with Tryst moments ago. Clearly the worse for wear, Maddix is being helped around the ring and towards the back by Megan Skye...

 

 

...but suddenly, they become black and white. It's not your T.V, don't worry. It's not the NWO...don't worry. It's not something to do with that song Michael Jackson used to sing, so you can bring the kids back into the room. Instead, the SmarkTron begins to hiss and fuzz for a while, until a long highway road comes up...

 

causing an ERUPTION from the crowd, as the storm clouds begin to brew!

 

"Oh...my...here comes Alan Clark!!!"

 

"What!?! What the hell does he want!?!" wails Riley. "Quick...somebody get security, and help Landon backstage!"

 

As the opening chords of "Wanted Dead Or Alive" begin to revurberate around the arena, and the lyrics begin Alan Clark steps out from the back, with his eyes firmly locked on Landon...who is now scurrying away, and back into the ring, with Megan following him as usual. Meanwhile Alan begins to slowly pace down the rampway, with the echoes of his name being chanted around the arena almost as loud as his music.

 

"I think, as a certain Oklahoma native would say...business, has just picked up!" booms Cyclone.

 

"I swear to Todd, I hope you get sued for that."

 

 

Eventually Alan makes it to the ring, and as Maddix and Megan stand back into the corner, the reigning Cruiserweight Champion demands a microphone from Funyon. Unsurprisingly Funyon quickly complies, rushing over and handing Clark the mic as his music dies down...

 

"ALAN! ALAN! ALAN!"

 

...to reveal the chants hiding behind. Clark cannot help but smile as he waits for the respect to die down, and allow him chance to speak.

 

"I'm really sorry to come out here and block your way Landon...but, I realise that if I were to simply walk to the ring and call you out, you'd more than likely...'decline my invitation'. So, I thought I'd come out here now. While you're already out here. Because you see...we have some business to take care of..."

 

Maddix starts to yell something at Clark from the corner, but Alan simply ignores him.

 

"You have a problem with me, right?"

 

With fury in his eyes, Maddix nods as he moves across the ring...making sure Clark doesn't launch into an attack, as he goes over to the corner and asks for a microphone of his own. Again Funyon complies, as Landon takes it and turns to Clark.

 

"You're DAMN RIGHT I have a problem with you!" Landon yells.

 

"That's what I thought." Clark sneers in reponse, shrugging off Landon's anger. "That must be why you attacked me a few weeks ago. Why you stole my guitar. Why you took it to some 'friend' of yours, put it through a woodchipper and carry around the evidence. Why..."

 

"If you don't know why I did that, you're more of a braindead moron than I thought you are."

 

Clark chuckles to himself, wiping his hand across his mouth to rid himself of the smile.

 

"Oh, don't get me wrong Landon...I do know why. I know EXACTLY why you did the thing that you did. It's guess it's just this thing we have..."

 

"We don't have a 'thing', so..."

 

"You keep interrupting me, and I'll tear your head off of your shoulders right here right now, because I'm not in the god-damn mood!"

 

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

Landon doesn't know whever to be angry or just plain afraid, as he backs up a little bit. Clark simply glares at his rival...but eventually, a smile creeps back across his face as the crowd are right behind him.

 

 

"AL - AN'S GO - NNA KILL YOU!

 

AL - AN'S GO - NNA KILL YOU!

 

AL - AN'S GO - NNA KILL YOU!"

 

Furiously Landon and Megan try to quiten the crowd, but they show know signs of stopping...until Alan speaks up again that is.

 

"It's funny...this thing, between you and me. We're both ambitious men. And, you and I know we're both guided by success, and the desire for that success. Over our careers, we've been travelling on these roads to success. You're on your road, and I'm on mine. And, they're very different roads. Your road has a little turn in the middle, doesn't it. That turn that causes you to suddenly adore your most hated rival, Todd Royal. Whereas my road has had more attitude changes than your average boy band. But these roads are similar, in that they both are aimed at success. And these roads...they're not straight. Oh no. They have many twists, and many turns. And the ironic thing...the funny thing between you I...is that our roads are very close to each other. And every so often...they twist, and turn, and begin to intersect each other. Just when one of us least expects it. Just when one of us...really doesn't want that to happen. It happened when I took your European Title, and it happened when you took my European Title. It happened...when you won the SJL World Title. And now..."

 

Clark smiles again, as Landon is listening to all this in confusion.

 

"...now, it seems they're getting set to intersect one...more...time. Ironically enough, I'm holding gold again. I'm the Cruiserweight Champion. And you're cruising down your road. I'm cruising down mine. Pretty soon...those roads are going to cut across again. And we'll be on yet another collision course."

 

"Wait, wait..." Landon suddenly interrupts. "What the HELL are you talking about? Sweet, merciful Todd...please stop with all this poetic 'fate' bullshit, and tell things like they are!"

 

Maddix now walks away from the corner he was standing in, and gets into Clark's face as a heated staredown begins.

 

"...this is the way it goes. You hate me. I hate you. With a passion. All this talk about roads, and fate and whatever the hell else you were just blabbering on about is meaningless. This is about nothing more than hatred."

 

"Oh, but no." Alan disagrees. "Landon...it's more than just hate lying between us. It's about success. But it's also about...pride. It always has been. Do you remember that night, where I got you in the center of that ring for the very first time...and I beat you for your SJL European Championship? Remember how your mind changed after that loss. You were damaged. You were screwed up. It changed you, because you couldn't cope with the defeat. And that was because of...your pride. You..."

 

"YES!" Landon snaps to stop Clark. "Ok...ok. It screwed me up. I looked deep into myself, and realised I'd been beaten by Mickey Mouse's biggest fan. Of COURSE I was screwed up mentally! But I'm bigger than that...to allow my career to be ruined by somebody like you. That's why I turned to someone who could rebuild my career..."

 

"Todd Royal." Clark sneers.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

"Yes Todd Royal!" Landon yells. "The guy you hated most in the company..."

 

Landon smiles, before getting RIGHT up into Clark's face, as close as possible.

 

"...until, that is...I took your knee out of it's socket. Until I took BACK my SJL European Title. Until...in the last ever SJL match in history, I stood toe to toe with Alan Clark and I beat your ass in two straight falls to finally climb to the top of the mountain, and finally get what I deserved. The SJL World Title. I kicked your ass..."

 

"...and then you shook my hand."

 

Remembering back to that night, Landon's head drops as he backs away a little from Clark.

 

"...you shook my hand, and I showed you the respect that on that night you deserved! You pinned me twice, and that ate ME up inside. But I didn't turn to a son of a bitch like Todd Royal to get myself some sort of ego boost! I bit my lip. Unclenched my fists. Fought off the anger...I walked up to you, and I shook your hand...because I was MAN ENOUGH...to do it. I'm not one to cry and moan. You were the better man, and you proved it. Two falls to ONE. Don't forget it Landon. I made you submit...no...more than that. I made you SAY "I Quit". But at the end of the day, we shook hands. We showed each other mutual respect, and the fans in that arena showed you that they know you ARE a great wrestler. That they DO respect you. That they know you are a worthy champion. But, you couldn't let that stand. You didn't take the hint. Here you are, cheating at every opportunity. And you wonder why these people suddenly boo you..."

 

"These people boo me because they're JACKASSES!!!"

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

"I don't give a crap about these people, and I don't give a crap about you. I sure as hell don't respect you. You call yourself the Cruiserweight Champion. Well..."

 

"I AM the Cruiserweight Champion." Clark snaps, as he shows Landon the belt as proof.

 

"In name only. And I'll prove it, if you've got the balls down there in those baggy little pants of yours. You and me...one on one at Battleground. Since Zenon probably won't give me the match of his own free will, I'm DEMANDING it! I want to prove once and for all that I am better than you. I'd think carefully though Clark. I beat you for the JL European Title, I beat you for the JL World Title...and if you manage to get past Inspector Widget here tonight, I WILL beat you for that SWF Cruiserweight Championship. Oh...and just so we're clear. This time...there will be no handshakes, and there will be no 'mutual respect'. All there will be is a fight. And once it's all done with, there will be me...standing over your ass...victorious, as always."

 

Landon smiles smugly at Clark, before turning away and starting to leave...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

...but he stops, and nails Clark in the jaw with a superkick!!!

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

Smugly, Landon looks out to the crowd, and holds his hands out to the side soaking them up as Megan applauds in the background...as Alan may very well be out COLD! Suddenly, something catches Landon's eye...as he looks down, and sees Alan Clark's Cruiserweight Title belt laying on the floor. With another grin on his face Maddix grabs the belt, and looks deeply at his reflection in the belt, as jeers fill the arena.

 

"You are looking at the future!" beams Riley.

 

"Could this be the scene at Battleground, if Alan Clark can get past Johnny Dangerous tonight?"

 

Throwing down the belt, Maddix gleams down at Clark, and holding up one finger as if to say 'one more time', before turning and leaving the ring with Megan Skye as ever right behind him. Clark meanwhile is just about coming to, in time to watch Maddix cockily make his way up the ramp, as meanwhile Storm goes to another break...

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

sly an il r in teh r1ng 8ut O my kidcoasl h!t2 teh r!ng andd eetz evry1.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The stark sound of shoes on pavement echoes through an empty hallway of the Sec Taylor Stadium, the focus of the camera completely on a pair of polished dress shoes. The camera slowly pans up on the shoes, up a leg of grey kakhi's, a little beyond a just longer than waist length brown leather jacket, a snazzy looking polo shirt, and finally, on the face of the interim SWF commissioner, Alexander Zenon. There is an intent, miserable expression painted on him, along with noticeable dark bags under his eyes. Alex has not been sleeping well, various stresses of his job obviously bothering him.

 

Walking purposfuly, Alex turns a corner, walking by a few anvil cases, and then reaches a door, which he quickly pushes open. The camera is blinded for a moment from the rush of evening sunlight, the final flicker of an Iowan day, as the commissioner steps out into a parking lot. The camera is readjusted, and refocuses from a position behind Alex... looking over his shoulder at a noticeable black Diablo. Alex's timing is perfect--after all, that's perciesely what he intended.

 

An eerie stillness hangs in the air. A few moments pass, and then the door of the car opens with a light 'ka-chack.' From within, a tall, impressive looking man exits, dark sunglasses on his face and an even darker trechcoat over his shoulders. Neither man flinches as they stare through one another.

 

"Mr. Kibagami."

 

Nathaniel cocks his head to one side. "Agent Smith. The pleasure is all mine."

 

"You aren't funny, Nathan," Alex intones.

 

"Wasn't trying to be," says Kibagami, with a slight shrug. "Interesting choice of arena for this show, by the way. Didn't think you were a baseball fan..."

 

Alex glances over his shoulder at the Sec Taylor Stadium, and then fixes his gaze back onto Kibagami. "Well... I wanted something new. Different. Something to represent the change the fed the fed is going through, however long it's going to last," Alex speaks cooly, then pauses. "After all, I didn't want something old. Used. Decrepit and broken down."

 

Kibagami shakes his head at Alex's barb, and then his mouth... twists into a grin. Kibagami starts to chuckle lightly, as Alex's features harden. "What the hell are you laughing at?" snaps Zenon.

 

Nathaniel abruptly stops chuckling, and then sighs. "You, Alex. You haven't changed at all, have you? Still insecure, still eager to prove you're some kind of big, swaggering badass. At least Mark was nice enough to give you something to back up your claims this time."

 

Zenon simmers, but tries hard to keep his cool. He fails. "You should talk you... you son of a bitch. What do you know about change, huh? You held the worst fucking grudge I've ever seen. You ended careers... you ruined fucking lives, Kibagami, and you revelled in it all."

 

Behind his glasses, Kibagami's eyes narrow. Zenon continues. "You even did it to yourself. You're a drugged up, washed up NOBODY! Forget has-been, you never were! You never won anything; that's good, you didn't deserve it. You couldn't keep your girlfriend; that's good, you didn't deserver her, either. You couldn't keep yourself to be in this business... and sure as fuck don't deserve what you've gotten right now. Your great defining moment is destroying the biggest star, and best man this federation has ever known? How... how can you be proud of that!? How Mark, even with his fucking bleeding heart let you back in, I'll never know!"

 

Kibagami scowls at Alex, who's now trembling with anger. Calmly, cooly, he reaches up and takes the sunglasses off his face, revealing icy, bloodshot eyes. Zenon shudders. "Excuse me, Alex, but... I think you should stick to shooting your mouth off on shit you actually know about," Kibagami spits, walking slowly towards Alex. "You know nothing about my life, and you have no idea what it took for me to be able climb back into the ring and take hits again. You don't know anything about how many pills I popped, needles I stuck, doctors I saw, and nights I spent in detox, half-dead, wondering what the hell I did with my life."

 

The gravel of the parking lot crusches under Nathaniel's boots as he steps ever closer, now inches away from Alex's face. "You could never do it, Alex. Hell, you couldn't get back in this ring as you are, right now!"

 

Alex sneers as Kibagami leers at him, fire smouldering in his eyes. "You don't know anything about me, Alex. You still don't know anything about Edwin. You talk about never deserving anything? You were handed everything you got, just like you were handed this job. I don't recall you ever winning anything, either," Kibagami chides, grinning.

 

"You know... at the very least, Nathan," Alex begins, bitterly, "If I were back in the ring, I wouldn't have lost to some little runt."

 

Nathaniel flinches, and then narrows his eyes at Zenon. "It's funny how mouthing off is the only thing you're good at. The fact is, I know exactly where I stand here, Zenon: I'm untoucable. I know how much you'd love to tear up my contract, but it isn't your name signed at the end of it... and that's the whole thing, isn't it? This fed is on loan to you, Alex."

 

"Loan or not, Kibagami, let me make something crystal clear. I can't fire you, as gratifying and well-deserved as that might be... but I CAN make your life hell, as you long as you're here."

 

The man once known as the Slaughterer gives Alex Zenon a mocking, quizzical expression, and then puts his sunglasses back on. "I've been to hell, Alex. Anything you do to me here is nothing. This isn't your fed, Zenon, so you don't scare me. And I'm sure Mark would be real happy to come back to a place you've sent to hell just because YOU can't get over your 'terrible fucking grudge,'" Kibagami snarls, snorting derisively. "You're nothing more than a yappy little dog to me; amusing for a while, but ultimately... I'm bigger than you, Alex. You haven't beaten me clean yet, and even if you're trying to do it in a suit, in your office, behind your desk, you still won't."

 

Alex stares angrily at Kibagami as he chuckles again, and then brushes by the commissioner. Alex continues to look at nothing out in the parking lot, as Kibagami pulls open the door to the stadium. He calls out, "I'm better than you, Alex! Always have been. Don't you forget it..."

 

The door closes behind the River Dragon with a sharp bang, causing Alex to involuntarily shudder. Head down, Alex grumbles, "Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately." He drags up his eyes, and spits on Kibagami's Diablo, before turning around and miserably marching back into the arena--making a point to look for a different entrance...

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

Comet: Well Riley, we’ve got an interesting matchup to start this show and it’s got one of the bigget prizes in professional wrestling hanging on it.

 

Riley: I can’t believe it Comet, the guy who gets the pin here wins that most precious of things – a full SWF contract.

 

Comet: Both these guys were trained by former SJL and SWF stars Chris Card and Va’aiga, but I have no idea WHAT to expect from this pair tonight.

 

The heavy crunching guitar chords of “Grind” by Alice In Chains and the royal purple lighting greet the stylishly dressed, besuited Chris Card, who strides over to the commentary position and grabs a third headset.

 

Card: Bobby, Comet.

 

Riley: Speak of the devil.

 

Comet: What can we expect from these two guys out here tonight.

 

Card: Well first up is Maskarade. The guy can GO, I mean seriously you’d have to put lead weights around his ankles to slow him down. He came to us with some lucha libre experience, this was really a polish job on him. The other guy Said, he’s got some good moves, he’s a kickboxer by trade, he’s got a couple of vicious head drops if he needs them. He’s a good kid.

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is for a contract with the SWF! Introducing first, from The Planet Mars… weighing in tonight at 225lbs, The Bad Boy from the Bainlieux… SYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED

 

Riley: The Planet Mars?

 

Card: Colloquialism for Marseille. Plus it means the idiots don’t boo him for being French.

 

Riley: You know it’s nice to share opinions on the fans with a like minded individual.

 

Thumping bass beats and samples fill the arena as the theme from La Haine – “La 25ème Image” by Iam and Daddy Nuttea starts up, and red, gold and green lights flare, lighting up the entranceway and ring in the pan-African colours.

 

“C'est la 25ème image et elle s'inspire de vos carnages

C'est la 25ème image, choisis bien ton personage…”

 

Images of social waste and deprivation fill the SmarkTron, showing the poverty, crime and depression as it affects the immigrant communities in southern France, cut with Said chilling with his homies back in the Bainlieux and shots of the rap collective IAM rapping. As Akhenaton starts the first verse up, Said enters through the gate and bounds, shuffles, dances and leaps his way down to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and posing in the center of the ring.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 181 lbs, from Tijuana, Baja California… this is El Hombre Sin Cara…. MAAAASKAAAAAAAAAAAARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADE

 

The music cuts in and Zach de la Rocha’s screaming voice calls out…

 

Walk unseen past tha graves and tha gates…

 

…as Maskarade jumps through the entranceway and forward rolls down the ramp, coming up on his knees and throwing his arms out wide as the pyro booms and Zach screams…

 

…BORN WITHOUT A FACE!

 

Maskarade rushes down to the ring, front flipping over the top rope and rolling to a kneeling pose again inside the ring. The young Mexican leaps up to his feet and springs to two opposite corners of the ring in turn, each time leaping for the top turnbuckle in one go and throwing his hands wide to the crowd.

 

Comet: OK this is a chance to see what these guys have got.

 

Card: There’ll never be a better one

 

Comet: Well there’s been a huge buildup to this, and millions of votes have been cast nationwide to choose the final two of the SWF Revolution. I’m sure both of these guys deserve a full contract.

 

Said and Maskarade circle briefly before locking up, Said taking a top wristlock and powering Maskarade downwards, but the young Mexican bridges backwards acrobatically to lessen the move’s impact. Adjusting his fingers to take Said’s wrist, Maskarade first powers himself up a little then backflips, reversing the pressure on the wristlock. The Mexican watches his Senegalese-French opponent wince as Maskarade tries for an extra twist, but the Frenchman counters with a backflip of his OWN re-reversing the hold! Said closes in and flips Maskadrade over with a hiptoss, but the Mexican tucks his legs, over rotates and lands on his feet! The luchadore gets a hiptoss of his own in but Said returns the favour and land on HIS feet. The pair back off and Said busts a quick move while the crowd applauds.

 

Comet: Rapid start from these competitors tonight.

 

Riley: It’s your one big chance to shine, why hold anything back?

 

Quickly adjusting his footwork, Said brags for Maskarade again, grabbing a quick waistlock, then spinning to a back waistlock, stomping a foot on the ground, signaling a German Suplex attempt. Said half lifts Maskarade off the mat, but the Mexican bends his back just enough to get his arm around Said’s neck. Twisting his body, Maskarade rotates around Said, first looking like he’s going to hit a Tornado DDT, but instead of shifting his centre of gravity downwards to DDT Said, Maskarade flings his legs out and takes a second rotation! As the luchadore spins round his opponent for a second time, Maskarade grabs for an arm and takes Said down to the mat with a reverse armbar!!! A ripple of cheers hits the crowd.

 

 

Riley: There’s some level of speed in the ring tonight, Comet. I think that some of the other cruiserweights in the federation are going to be envious of what these guys can bring to the table.

 

Card: This is the stuff SOME federations are scared to show you, Comet.

 

His arm trapped, Said begins to BUTT scoot across the ring, easily shifting the smaller man across the ring and the Marseille native places his foot on the bottom rope, forcing the break. Said hops to his feet, to be met by an open handed slap that resounds around the arena. The Bad Boy winces and flinches, but as the young Mexican grins, Said responds with a slap of his own! Maskarade reels away in pain, his mask hiding his expression.

 

Comet: Ouch. Those slaps aren’t going to cause any permanent damage but they sure as do sting.

 

Riley: It’s as much of an insult as a move, Comet.

 

Turning back to face Said, Maskarade fires off another slap, and the Frenchman takes it like a MAN this time, firing off a slap back immediately. Closing in for the kill, the Sensation reaches his arms out, looking for the head of Maskarade but the Mexican responds with a lightning fast arm drag, sending Said sliding across the ring and baseball sliding down to the ringside area! Maskarade drops back and MOCKS THE DANCING! Said turns back to face the rings as Maskarade rushes the far end ropes, rebounds and at MASSIVE speed performs a picture perfect front flip over the ropes, landing on Said in a senton!!!

 

Card: ¡SENTON ATOMICO! ¡SENTON ATOMICO!

 

Riley: He flipped CLEAR OF THE ROPES Comet!!!!

 

Referee Eddy Long, called into action for the first time in the match puts on a count as the pair outside slowly regain their footing. Maskarade grabs an arm of the more stunned Said and hops up onto the ring apron, takes two steps along mining a loss of balance as if he was walking along the ropes and dives off, arm dragging Said into the guardrail! For a coup de grace the Mexican hops up onto the guardrail balancing just above where Said fell and faces out into the audience…

 

Maskarade: ¡RAZA EN LA CASA!

 

…before looking over his shoulder to see Said has got up, leaping backwards onto Said blind and hitting a Misteriorana!!! The Mexican leaps onto the ring apron and vaults back inside. Hearing the referee reach seven Maskarade opts for a second dive (going in and out of the ring resetting the count) and as Said stands again, Masakrade charges and flips the OTHER way over the ring hitting a perfect no hands plancha, with insane height…. And getting caught across Said’s chest! Said turns the move’s momentum against the Mexican and FALLS FORWARD, SLAMMING HIM ONTO THE CONCRETE!

 

Comet: THE MAORI DROP!

 

Card: See he’s learned from his tutors. That’s the sign of a great athletics student.

 

The Senegalese Sensation slings Maskarade back into the ring and busts another move for the crowd before Sliding in himself and covering lazily. Eddy Long drops to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH.. and Maskarade gets a shoulder up. Said pops up and spins 270 degrees to face his slowly standing opponent again.

 

Comet: Said showing a little cocky streak there maybe?

 

Card: Hey, it never hurt some of the great. Tom Flesher’s got a cocky side to HIS character.

 

Comet: It slows him down though.

 

Card: Did it ever stop him from winning?

 

Comet: No.

 

Riley: He’s right. He’s SO right.

 

Taking his sweet time, Said stuns Maskarade with as VICIOUS roundhouse kick to the ribs. Hopping his weight onto the kicking foot the dreadlocked Frenchman rips off a second lethal kick to the ribs from the other leg, sending a shower of spit arcing through the air from behind the mask. Said switches leg for a third stiff looking kick and AGAIN for a fourth, rotating with the momentum of the move as the Mexican shakes his head, dazed. Now facing away after going 180 with his momentum, Said hops backwards and fires out a lethal back kick, the impact bending Maskarade over before performing a back flip, landing on his stomach after driving both feet into the back of the doubled up Maskarade’s skull. Said gets to his feet, but not without taking time to MOCK MASKARADE’S ROLLING POSE! The crowd boos a little.

 

Card: That’s it show your stuff, man.

 

Comet: Not showing a little bias here are we Chris?

 

Card: Not at all. I like to see wrestlers I’ve trained do well.

 

Taking his time to beckon Maskarade up, Said waits on the young Mexican and fires off a stiff looking left hand…

 

Card: Un.

 

Riley: What?

 

Maskarade is clearly rocked as the follow up shot, a right cross sends the Mexican staggering…

 

Card: Deux.

 

Riley: Oh I see.

 

A second left hand fires into Maskarade’s cheek, spinning the Mexican slowly round. Chris Card adds the…

 

Card: Trois…

 

As Said jukes and jives in the ring, adding a little boxer’s shuffle as he waits for Maskarade to face him again before a MASSIVE clothesline, nearly taking Maskarade’s head clean off his shoulders.

 

Card: BLAU!

 

Comet: I’d guess you’ve seen that before, right Christopher?

 

Card: It makes me wince. See at our training school you don’t just learn how to kick ass, you learn it with STYLE. You can see the Maori’s influence there.

 

Comet: I can indeed.

 

Said drops to cover, pressing down on Maskarade’s chest but not really exerting much effort, and Eddy Long counts again…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH.. and Maskarade kicks out, drawing a quick Verlan swear word from the Frenchman

 

Said: ESIAB!

 

Clearly annoyed that he didn’t get the three, Said kneels up and flashes a triangle sign towards the announce desk, and a long shot shows Card giving Said the thumbs up. Said looks down at Maskarade, lying there on the canvas and gives him a dismissive kick before dropping down to canvas level. Said laces his legs around Maskarade’s neck, crossing them and cutting off the blood supply to Maskarade’s brain. The Senegalese descended superstar lies back, screaming for Maskarade to tap out in French!

 

Comet: Said with a Triangle Choke on Maskarade!! The Mexican is in trouble here Christopher!

 

Card: Said calls this the Triangle Murder. It’s not a choke, that would be illegal, and you can’t break the rules Comet. It’s more of a sleeper type move.

 

Riley: You think this can win the match and the contract?

 

Card: Only if Maskarade doesn’t get to the ropes, Riley.

 

The ever prescient Chris Card shows his understanding of the wrestling game again as Maskarade starts to wriggle round, spinning the hold so he can get closer to the ropes. Said snarls and tries to tighten the grip but the wiry little Mexican scrapes his way round and places his hand on the bottom rope.

 

Card: That hold works better against the less technical wrestlers. It’s lethal but it does take a fair while to work. I know Said has more tricks up his sleeve.

 

Riley: You sure know a lot about the guys you train.

 

Card: I am a wrestling expert, I never claimed to be anything else Bobby.

 

Said stands again, watching down as Maskarade clambers slowly to one knee. Said smiles to himself and charges, springing up off Maskarade’s bent leg and blasting him in the face with a lethal Roundhouse kick!!

 

Comet: OK what the heck was THAT Mr. Expert?

 

Card: That was the Shining Roundhouse. It’s quite nasty, I helped him design it. I’ve always been a big fan of Shining moves.

 

Again taking the time to throw a couple of extra dance moves in before going for the pin and AGAIN not really covering to the best of his abilities, leaving Eddy Long to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH.. and Maskarade kicks out again. Said gets back to his feet quickly and hops backwards, tapping his thigh twice and signaling for something…

 

Comet: What’s this a call for Christopher?

 

Card: Here comes the strike of champions – the superkick. Said’s is like a blast from a .45 I tell ya!

 

Waiting patiently as the beaten down Maskarade stands slowly up, Said makes damn sure the Mexican is in his sights as he fires off a MASSIVE superkick and PLANTS EDDY LONG IN THE FACE! The referee goes sprawling across the ring as Maskarade plants his head in his hands… and Maskarade uses the distraction to snap off a quick dropkick, staggering Said into the ropes! The firey Mexican leaps up onto the ropes and grabs one of Said’s flailing arms, taking the Frenchman down to the canvas and back into that reverse armbar!

 

Comet: Maskarade is on the comeback trail! Maskarade is back in with a shout of winning this match!

 

Spinning round and adding an extra wrench to the barred arm of Said, Maskarade positions himself across Said’s back and grasping across with his legs, scissors Said’s OTHER arm! The Senegalese Sensation grimaces and grits his teeth with the pain…

 

Card: That’s the Maskaradita! It’s a truly VICIOUS submission hold.

 

…and Said taps out!!!

 

Riley: Said taps! Said taps! Maskarade has won a SWF contract!

 

Card: If the ref didn’t see it, it didn’t happen. You know that Riley.

 

Maskarade hops to his feet, releasing the hold and throwing his arms wide in celebration. His leaps turn to a disappointed shrug as he spots Eddy Long, still lying on the mat. Turning to face the crowd, the Mexican twirls his fingers around, eliciting a fairly big cheer and hops up onto the top turnbuckle, looking down at the fallen African beneath him. While Said fumbles around with his aching arms, reaching into his costume Maskarade crosses himself like a good catholic and leaps…

 

Card: OH MY GOD! He’s going for the 450 Headbutt!!!

 

Comet: 450 Headbutt?

 

Flipping off the ropes and somersaulting, Maskarade tucks and rotates through 450 degrees, untucks and with his body perfectly perpendicular to the ground lands head first on a… BURST OF SPRAY FROM A CANNISTER IN SAID’S HAND!!! Maskarade bounces off Said, clutching his face as though protected by the mask, some definitely got in through the eyeholes.

 

Comet: What on God’s green earth?

 

Riley: You didn’t lend him the…

 

Card: Aerosol Equalizer? Well he did ASK. Remember the best lessons are learned off your teacher.

 

Just as Eddy Long slowly comes round, Said throws the canister in a graceful arc towards the commentary table, and the Technically Perfect one stashes it in his inside suit pocket. Said crawls over to where Maskarade is laying and again wraps his legs back around the neck of his stunned Hispanic opponent. Reeling in pain and trapped in the vice like hold, feeling the blood slowly draining from his head, Maskarade is forced to do the honorable thing and taps out. The crowd viciously boos this as Card strides from the commentary table and rolls into the ring, microphone purloined from Funyon in hand.

 

Comet: I think that Chris Card has some explaining to do to the SWF fans. What on EARTH was he doing giving the mace spray to one of his students.

 

Card: You know… I’ve never taken the chance to pick up on a good opportunity, so when somebody offered me a FAT wedge of dollars, Canadian of course – gotta love that exchange rate – to find the greatest young prospects and groom them into the finest professional wrestlers money can buy, I jumped at it. And taking your chances is what pro wrestling is about, so when one of my brightest prospects said to me, “Boss, can I borrow la mace,” I smiled to myself and knew I had done my job well.

 

Card looks at Maskarade, who has regained his bearings and is slowly standing up…

 

Card: Maskarade, you’re a great kid and maybe you should go back to Mexico and dominate it for me. Spread the word, you know. Tonight however, you lost…

 

…and CRUSHES the Mexican with a massive, sharp and out of nowhere superkick to the chest!

 

Card: Hope you’re not too heartbroken. So now Said here has gotten himself a contract, Chris Card managerial services, both of us, are here to make sure that this man here, the Senegalese Sensation is going straight to the top. Deal with it.

 

Riley: Wait… Chris Card is going to be managing this new kid Said?

 

Comet: It appears so. But what did he mean by both of us?

 

Maskarade having left after being superkicked, Card and Said have plenty of time to make a stylish exit, walking slowly down the ramp to Said’s bass heavy Marseille rap. As they reach the gateway the pair are met and ushered out by the stunning, shapely, sultry, sexy and stylish form of the Goth Bitch herself, Chris Card’s former manager Natasha.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The camera returns to the packed outdoor stadium as the crowd continues to wave wildly into the air at the promise of more gladiatorial combat to come. With all sorts of unique Smarks Wrestling Federation action still to come this evening, the crowd is ready for the promised three-way contest to determine the SWF United States Junior League Championship. The fans wave signs into the air such as ‘Stryke Out’, ‘Todd is MY Savior’ and on a completely unrelated note, ‘Allison Wants the Big Tom O’. But this is not about Tom getting play, this is about three men ready and willing to do it all in order to go home tonight with a share of SWF gold.

 

And there is one man that will begin; he goes by the name of Funyon. “Ladies and gentlemen this next match is scheduled to be a Triple Threat match scheduled one fall to a finish for the SWF United States Junior League Championship…”

 

With the crowd already focused on the entranceway, they require no music in order to herald the entrance of the last USJL Champion Coy West. But this is not the same West that fell victim to the pumphandle piledriver in a cage match about a month ago. This West virtually barrels down the aisle without the stereotypical redneck wear of before only barely pausing long enough to toss his baseball cap into the crowd as he jogs down the aisle. Sliding underneath the bottom rope, Coy pulls off his denim vest and tosses it right over the top rope to an attendant. Walking from one end of the ring to the other, West makes the international sign of wanting a title belt to drape around his waist. Nodding his head along with the cheers of the crowd, West lifts a finger into the air as Funyon reports his information to the populace.

 

“Weighing in tonight at 263 pounds and hailing from Atlanta, Georgia… please welcome COY ‘WILLLLLLLLD’ WESSSSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Cyclone Comet speaks for the first time out of the break, “This citizen has a great chance tonight of coming out of here with that golden strap he lost only a month ago.”

 

“Dream on,” replies a bored Bobby Riley. “Its simple, Comet, this match is all about momentum. Coy West does not have it. Since losing that belt, he has basically lost each and every time down the aisle.”

 

AHHHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

“We will find out in very short order just that!”

 

With the Royal Tabernacle Choir stepping up to plate, the group sings their leader and his manager out from backstage with all the pomp and circumstances that a man of his stature believes that he deserves. Motioning ver to his choir, Royal looks to try and encourage the crowd to give his singing entourage their proper respect only to have the faithful SWF crowd respond with a hailstorm of peanut bags. Buckling under the pressure the singers quickly retreat backstage as Royal stomps about a bit trying to get the fans to be a whole lot less cruel in this Easter season. His lady moves to the head of the line however as the pair moves to ringside. Stepping up to the ring apron, Meagan parts the ropes for her spiritual leader as the arrogant member of The Unnamed slithers into the squared circle. But the display does not last for long before Royal hurriedly pulls his manager in between himself and his obviously angered opponent who was already on his way across the ring. Pointing from behind his frightened manager, Todd points right at Coy as the referee pulls the westerner away from the Royal Prince.

 

“His opponent weighs in tonight at 220 pounds of holy steel and religious appeal. Hailing from San Diego, California and the membership of The Unnamed, he is accompanied to the ring by the lovely and talented Meagan Skye. TODD BLESS ALL OF US… TODD ROYALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!”

 

“You might think that Todd Royal is the favorite in this one, Citizen Riley, but the fact of the matter is that his brand of technical wrestling may not be effective in a contest of this type. He will not be able to grab a hold in this match and expect to hold on to it for an extended period. I really think that you are going to find that the reigning champion Citizen Stryke will be best suited to take this match home here tonight.”

 

Almost as on cue, the USJL champion is on his way down the aisle. Holding his coveted title belt up in the air, Stryke slaps at the golden centerpiece of the belt as he makes his way down the aisle. Stryke points at both of his challengers as Coy now turns his attention away from Royal and towards the champion. The Unnamed pair of Skye and Royal also pay the champion the compliment of their attention as Todd pulls off his sunglasses with a look of spite on his face. But Stryke is seemingly only concerned with his own glory as he steps up the ring steps and all the way to the middle turnbuckle on the inside. Raising his strap up to the air, Stryke pads his title once again and points once more to himself before stepping off the top rope and into the center of the ring. Smiling brightly about the ring, Stryke lifts the title over his head yet again before reluctantly handing it off top the referee for this match, Eddy Long.

 

“He weighs in tonight at 230 pounds and hails from Sydney, Australia! He is the current reigning SWF UNITED STATES JUNIOR LEAGUE CHAMPIONNNN STRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYKE!”

 

Having finished his ring announcement, Funyon heads to the outside as Meagan Skye does the same after one last bit of instruction to her man Todd Royal. Stepping into the center of the ring, Long presents the belt to all three participants inn the last bit of pomp before the true circumstances begin. Passing the title belt through the rope strands to the ring attendant, Long steps in between the three rivals and signals for the timekeeper to officially start this contest.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

All three men look at each other with guarded glances, knowing that not one of them can trust another. Even though Stryke and Royal might be similar philosophically, they both know that path will lead to an eventual betrayal and so create no such pretenses of cooperation. And as such all three men slowly mosey together into the center of the ring looking for some sort of opening that will lead to a victory. Stryke is the first to sense such an opening and tries to kick Coy in the chest only to have West grapple the leg out of the air and hold it steady only for a moment before Royal enters the fray. Clocking Coy before he can take advantage of his purchase on Stryke, Todd hammers West across the back of the head with a hard forearm that knocks Stryke free from West’s grip. Together, Stryke and Todd immediately push West back into the ropes and start to assault the wild redneck with a flurry of brawling tactics. Together the two heels toss Coy into the far strands and run him over with a tandem shoulder blocks that knocks the largest man in the ring down to the canvas in an instant. But the moment after Coy hits the mat; Todd instantly turns on Stryke with a hard slap across the chest that knocks the USJL Champion backward and into a corner.

 

SLAP!

 

“You knew that was coming,” calls out Bobby Riley. “My Todd is too damn smart to give Stryke the chance to make the first move.”

 

But inside the ring, no one is thinking the least bit about the world famous journalist who looks just like the man of tomorrow with glasses. Instead, Todd Royal is again chopping Stryke across the pectoral muscles and sending him reeling in the corner for a moment before the member of The Unnamed sends Stryke across the ring with an Irish whip. But as Royal charges after his prey he ends up being intercepted in the middle of his journey as Coy West steps into his path and sends him over the top with a textbook scoop powerslam! Immediately getting up to his feet, West turns to his other adversary still in the corner and smashes Stryke across the face with a hard right hook. Driving another hard punch at his opponent’s face, West continues to knock the gaps out of Stryke’s teeth before sending him across the ring yet again with another Irish whip. Following right behind his opponent, West rattles his cage with a harsh corner clothesline and immediately turns his opponent around into a headlock. But as West starts to head out of the corner for the bulldog, he finds himself shoved off the USJL Champion and right into the rising Todd Royal.

 

WHAM!

 

Rising into the air just in the nick of time, the Hand of Todd catches his religious adversary under the chin with a leaping knee lift that sends the lanky grappler knocked flat to the mat. Landing with a mocking smile already plastered over his features, Todd wheels his body over the stunned West and makes the sign of the cross over the recently passed. But services are disrupted immediately as a hand snags a hold of his short hair and pulls Todd around and into the arms of the USJL Champion. Immediately pulling Royal into his grip, Stryke grabs Todd around the waist and sends him tumbling overhead with a high belly-to-belly suplex. Hopping up to his feet with a smile of his own, Stryke looks light on his feet as he surveys both of his opponents looking for the one that will provide the most resistance at this time. Making his decision, Stryke drops down on West with a measured elbow drop to the sternum that sends the challenger gasping for air as Stryke rises to his feet once again and drops down with another hard blow. Quickly turning his focus away from West and to his other foe, Stryke grabs the rising Todd Royal off the canvas and pushes him into the ropes. Lowering his center of gravity immediately, Stryke pushes Royal up into a gorilla press for the tiniest of instants before dropping him onto his shoulders and falling back to the mat with a Samoan drop!

 

“BROKEN ARROW!” calls out The Cyclone Comet as the crowd reactively pops at the sight of such an awesome maneuver despite the personality of the man delivering it. But they do not have long to sit in awe as Stryke sits up after the move and turns around to make a cover.

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

THKICKOUTATTWOOOOO!

 

“It is going to take more than that to keep down our Todd and Savior,” gloats Bobby Riley as Royal forces a shoulder off the canvas. “No matter how impressive one move might be, it will take a series of them to keep my man down.”

 

“Does Citizen Todd know that he is quote your man unquote?” questions The Cyclone Comet as Bobby shoots him a glare. “Because I pretty sure that all religions have quite a few laws against things you do with great frequency.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Cock fighting.”

 

Regardless of that, Stryke continues to try and pull this match out of the embers as he turns his attention away from Todd Royal and back over to Coy West. Hammering the Atlanta native in the back of the head with a clubbing forearm, Stryke pulls Coy up and off the canvas. Booting West in the midsection only drops Coy down to a knee as Stryke heads into the ropes with a measured amount of momentum before twisting West to the canvas with a spinning neckbreaker. The move sends Coy down to the canvas holding onto the back of his head with the look of a man not in tune with his senses. Sensing that he match has truly swung in his direction, Stryke leaves Coy laying as he heads out to the apron and starts to make his way up to the very top turnbuckle. But as Stryke is about to take the last step up to the very top of the ropes, he finds his path barred as a fresh weight is now pulling on his ankle!

 

“Meagan Skye is helping Coy?” questions Bobby Riley as the shapely valet clutches onto the ankle of the USJL Champion.

 

The Comet provides the answer, “Meagan knows that if the champion hits Citizen West with something from that height that it will be all the harder for Todd Royal to take away the USJL Championship. There is only one man that harpy wants to see with a clear advantage.”

 

Held by the ankle, Stryke reaches down in order to knock Skye off him only to have the hand of Todd strike him down in the process. Okay, it was more like the forearm of Todd but the point still stands as the member of The Unnamed cracks Stryke across the jaw. Immediately grabbing Stryke around the head, Todd pulls the USJL Champion off the top turnbuckle and allows his feet to touch the ground for just a moment before ripping him overhead with a snap suplex! Popping his hips to one side, Todd immediately pulls Stryke back up to his feet before sending him home with a textbook vertical version of the same throw. But the pain does not even stop there as Royal rolls Stryke over one last time before pulling him up into the air one more time and holding him there to think about it as all the blood rushes to Stryke’s brain. Six seconds later, Royal falls backward and buries the USJL Champion with a sharp delayed suplex that causes even the most hardened fan to clap with appreciation for the skills of the Todd. But the intelligent grappler still has the senses he needs to know that he can’t enjoy his success for long. Having picked up a slight limp from the impact of the Broken Arrow, Todd turns to his other hated opponent Coy and tosses him high over the top to the arena floor! Landing on the concrete, West places a hand on his knee in a reflexive jolt of pain as Todd turns his attention back to Stryke. But that does not end all of the pain for the wild westerner as Meagan Skye winds about the ring in order to kick him in the chest!

 

“Oh that is totally uncalled for!” laments The Cyclone Comet. “This is supposed to be one-on-one-on-one… I know it is not supposed to be one-on-one-on-two!”

 

“According to the Book of Todd,” replies Bobby Riley, “this is perfectly acceptable behavior. Oh and I looked it up. Todd 3:16 says that roster fights are completely legal.”

 

“What does that have to do with your brand of cock fighting?”

 

Leaving the task of beating down West to his woman, Todd Royal turns his back to the outside of the ring and back to the United States Junior League Champion. Coming up to Stryke from one side, Todd takes to the air for a moment and catches the champion behind the shoulder with a swift enziguri that knocks Stryke down to one knee. But the move was not designed to knock Stryke out or even down as Todd quickly demonstrates by moving behind the champion and grabbing him into position for a belly-to-back suplex. Lifting Stryke into the air, Todd holds him there for a moment before adjusting his grip and sending his opponent crashing into the mat with an outstanding blue thunder powerbomb! Hooking his legs over Stryke’s shoulders, Todd looks to secure the USJL championship for The Unnamed with a count of…

 

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

STRYKEKICKSOUTHEKICKSOUT!

 

Slamming his two legs together, Stryke manages to stun his way loose of the pinning combination and keep his title reign alive in the face of such adversity. But things do not look well for him as the other challenger is still being taken advantage of on the outside of the ring by the nefarious Meagan Skye whenever the referee’s attention is away from her. Inside the ring however, Todd continues to batter away with a number of forearm blows that knock Stryke backward and into a seated position in a corner and at the mercy of his violent challenger. Placing the sole of his boot across the features of the champion, Todd presses ahead and scrapes his face underneath his path. Grinning like the cruel and vengeful Todd that he is, Royal repeats the maneuver as Stryke struggles in vain to cover his face from the attack. The jackal-like smile only continues to spread as Royal admires his handiwork unaware of the situation deteriorating on the outside of the ring.

 

Bobby shouts madly, “Get your hands off her you stupid hick bastard chump bastard!”

 

Getting off his feet under the pressure of the attacks of the manager, West rises up into the face of the now terrified Meagan Skye, as the brazen lady is suddenly a whole lot less brazen. Backing away from the Wild West proves to be less than effective as Coy pie faces the manager and shoves her to the concrete floor much to the delight of the fans! But on the inside, Todd Royal is none the wiser as he bounces off the ropes in preparation for a running boot scrape only to be tripped from the outside of the ring by an aware Southern boy! Bouncing off his face, Todd turns around on his knees and spins to see what had just happened only to end up with a fist in his face for his trouble! The shock wave from the punch knocks Todd back over his own body as he flops backward to the mat with West quickly re-entering the ring. Stomping down on Royal’s knuckles, West shows just how much respect for the member of The Unnamed he has as The Man of Todd shouts out in pain. Rinsing up off his knees as he shakes out his hands, Todd does not seem to have any defense as Coy grapples him around the head and drops to the canvas with the DDT! Striking the mat with the crowd of his head, Todd does a virtual handstand for a moment or two before toppling over and onto his back from the impact. Moving over the top, Coy hooks everything he can as Eddy Long slides into position and counts…

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

TODDKICKSOUTATTWOO!

 

Obviously still having fight left in his body, Royal makes sure that he will fight on regardless of the agony now in his neck and skull. But West will surely not allow that pain to live alone for long as he pulls Royal off the canvas once again and three consecutive big right hooks into the face of Todd as he clearly starts to wobble under the pressure. It is then that West snags Royal around the waist and plucks him up into the air before jamming him home with a reverse atomic drop. And as much pain as that creates for Royal, it almost pales in comparison to what comes next.

 

BAM!

 

“FACE WASHER!”

 

Just barely getting to his feet as West was pounding Royal across the face, Stryke looked on in wait as West buried Todd with the reverse atomic drop. And then a moment after impact, Stryke took to the air and planted both feet into the face of the Royal One with a double-footed dropkick that knocked Royal right out of Coy’s grip. But the makeshift teamwork lasts no longer as Coy batters Stryke in the chest with a knee just as he gets to his feet. But as West looks to scoop Stryke over his shoulder for a slam, the USJL Champion slips out of his grip and over his back. Desperately grabbing West around the head with a sleeper hold, Stryke drops down to his knees and slams the back of West’s head into the mat with horrible impact before trying to hook the big man up for a pin fall of…

 

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

THRENOOOOOWESTFIGHTSLOOSE!

 

Springing his body hard, West forces his shoulders off the canvas in order to frustrate the USJL Champion once again as he looks at the referee and the crowd with shock obviously taking up residence in his head. But the confusion does not last long as Todd Royal boots it out from between Stryke’s ears. Leaning backward against the ropes, Todd takes a moment to reign in his senses and rubs a hand across his battered features. But Royal knows that he cannot take too terribly long to recover or he will find both foes at his throat once again. Grabbing Stryke across the jaw and hair, Todd leans backward and sends the champion out of the ring through the middle ropes. But even as Royal turns back to the downed Coy West, Stryke pulls his head just over the apron as though he is watching for some kind of opening. But that will have to wait a moment as Royal moves in on West and places the sole of his boot right in the Adam’s apple of the redneck warrior. Next pulling his opponent off the canvas, Royal turns into West and plucks him off the canvas before dropping him down to the mat with a sidewalk slam! But Royal does not even bother to go for a cover as he gets right up to his feet and points to the sky. Walking over to the turnbuckles, Royal starts to scale up the ropes on the inside with his back to the ring. But as Todd gets up to the top turnbuckle, he notices the waving arms of his manager waving back and forth on the floor. Looking down at Meagan Skye with a questioning eye, Royal seems confused for a moment until he finds that he is no longer standing on anything but the air!

 

“Stryke strikes back!” calls out Bobby Riley as the USJL Champion slithered back inside the ring as Todd’s back was turned. Running into the corner after Royal, Stryke shoved the member of The Unnamed right off his perch and to the cold concrete bellow!

 

“You’d think angels would have caught him or something,” chuckles The Comet.

 

But blasphemy aside the action is continuing in the ring as Stryke drops his full weight down on Coy with a senton back splash off of a running start. Stunned from the drop, West tries to get away from his opponent by rolling to the ropes only to have Stryke right there on him with a series of hard kicks to the head and chest. Pulling Coy up to his feet, Stryke hammers away with a hard forearm before sending him across the ring with a whip. But West still has enough left in the tank to reverse the whip and plop backward into the ropes as well in order to swing forward and cut Stryke down with the western lariat from deep downtown!

 

WHAM!

 

Shouting at Stryke to come at him, West grabs the United States Junior League Champion and batters shim across the face with a series of three hard right hands. Pressing Stryke into a corner, West tosses the champion across the ring and smashes him right afterwards with the hard corner clothesline that rocks Stryke right off his feet. Immediately grasping Stryke around the head, West pulls the Sydney native out of the ring and buries him into the mat with a perfectly executed bulldog headlock. Immediately pushing Stryke over and onto his back, West hooks a leg as referee Eddy Long counts to…

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Kicking out with all he has, Stryke forces his shoulders off the mat just in time to beat that fatal count of three. But he does not find any space for air as West immediately pulls him off the canvas and hurls Stryke into the ropes and lowers his head for a backdrop toss…

 

SMACK!

 

But Stryke puts on the breaks and kicks his foe in the chest! Stood strait up from the impact, Coy shakes his head for a moment as Stryke grabs him around the head and groin before tossing him over the top with a T-bone suplex! Rising up to his feet, Stryke looks about for his other foe only to find that Royal is only just barely holding onto the ropes from the apron having been helped into that position from his manager Meagan Skye. But he can seemingly go no further as he hangs there wiped out from that spill to the floor. Satisfied by that, Stryke grabs Coy West and pulls him into position facing right at Royal before applying a pumphandle. Pointing at Todd with his free hand, Stryke laughs evilly before fully moving into position for the move that won him the USJL Title in the first place.

 

 

 

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW END THEORRRRRRRRRRRRRRY!

 

 

 

But as West is pulled up for the pumphandle piledriver, he shifts his weight as hard as he can in order to escape the hold and land right behind the momentarily perplexed USJL champion and toss him forward… and right into Todd Royal! The two villains strike head-to-head and the impact knocks Todd right back off the apron and to the floor as Strike stumbles backward and right into the waiting westerner! Kicking Stryke in the chest, West quickly hooks his opponent around the head before taking him on a ride…

 

UUUUUUUUUUUP!

 

SLINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!

 

DOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWN!

 

SLINGSHOT SUPLEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!

 

COVER!

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

“NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPION!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Rising up to his knees, West lifts his arms up and into the air at this most important victory over two men of such talents. Putting his hands to his head, Coy kneels into center of the ring and slaps his hands against the ring in celebration as he gets up to his feet. Raising his head with a smile, West shakes his long dark hair back and forth and he raises an arm into the sky much to the delight of the fans in attendance.

 

“WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST!”

 

“The winner of this contest…” calls Funyon through the din of the stadium, “And NEWWWWWWWWW SWF UNITED STATES JUNIOR LEAGUE CHAMPION… ‘WILLLLLLLLLD’ COYYYYYYYYY WESSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Smiling brightly at the official proclamation of his second reign as USJL Champion, Coy West wanders about the ring for a moment as he waits for the referee to fetch his title from the timekeeper. But even as Eddy Long returns to the ring with the metal strap, the official finds the title belt ripped away from him as Meagan Skye seems fit to argue the legitimacy of the contest! Holding the belt close to her chest, Meagan shouts wildly at the referee to back off as she backs away from both him and the now enraged new champion. But even as Coy seriously ponders removing the belt from this witch, he finds he has far greater problems as he is grabbed from behind in a full nelson before getting dropped right on his head by the vengeful Todd DAMN dragon suplex!

 

“What the hell is this!” roars The Cyclone Comet as Todd Royal gets to his feet with a scowl across his face as evil as the devil himself.

 

Shoving the referee down to the canvas with all the emotion of an eel, Todd is handed the title belt by a much happier Meagan Skye. Pulling the strap up to eye level Royal looks at his own reflection and smiles a moment before his gaze shifts over to the now former champion Stryke. It does not take long for the hand of Todd to take action on that unbeliever…

 

CRACK!

 

Crushing Stryke across the face with the gold, Todd hammers Stryke down to the canvas and sends him rolling outside of the ring. That distraction out of the way, the now maniacal Royal backs into a corner and watches the new Champion try and rise up to his feet. Motioning for the redneck bastard to get up to his feet, Royal sits in wait like the viper he is before setting forth to strike once more.

 

CRACK!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

The bell rings again in the hopes that it will somehow get Royal to break off his assault, which has already netted a bloody result as that shot with the title belt gouged a cut into Coy’s flesh. Blood rolling from his face, Coy is defenseless as Skye happily kicks him in the chest once again while Todd looks on approvingly. Finally under control once again, Royal finally drops the title belt onto the chest of his downed opponent as though it were a piece of trash to be casually discarded.

 

“That bastard! That evil bastard!” yells out The Comet as Royal looks out to the crowd with a wide smile.

 

Before once again going on the attack!

 

Roughly snatching West by the leg, Todd rolls into the Wrath of Todd figure-four leglock! Evidently still unconscious from the shot with the belt, Coy does nothing but lay there as Todd continues to pull on his leg in the hopes of perhaps snapping the bone in two! With Meagan pulling on his arms for more leverage, Todd just pulls at the leg as more and more damage is being caused. But Todd does not have much longer to work his anger…

 

“IT’S ALAN CLARK!”

 

Riley shouts loudly, “HE’S GOT NO BUSINESS OUT HERE!”

 

Sprinting down the aisle hustles the white-clad Cruiserweight as Royal and Skye immediately break off their attack and scamper out of the ring rather than deal with a fresh combatant. And so the par of villains depart ringside with the knowledge that although West might have won this battle, the war will continue until all feel their wrath.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The crowd at the SEC Taylor Stadium is at an all time high with all the seats covering the ring around the ring. Huge section of the stands are covered in signs from the SWF faithful as the drone of chats rings through the air in and a around the stadium. As the reporters and ring crew return from snacking in the dug out, Funyon finishes signing autographs and heads for the ring. In the converted batters cage come announce area, sit Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley, ready to call the next match up.

 

Comet: Welcome back to SWF Lockdown here in Iowa loyal Citizens! With Me CYCLONE COMET!

 

Riley: And lucky old me, Bobby “please let me go deaf soon” Riley”. I really hate this place I have to be even close to the rabble then normal.

 

Comet: I’m sure they feel the same way about you Robert. Well, it’s been a hot night so far here, we’ve seen the return of Citizen Tryst. Two hot young talents have battled it out for a SWF contract. And we’ve still got more, including Citizen Williams facing Citizen Duran, and a huge six man tag team match for the tag titles. And that match feature the returning Citizen Van Siclen and another new SWF talent.

 

Riley: How are all these new guys getting in without me making the proper inspection checks? Are they just letting anyone in these days?

 

Comet: I think more people are coming in now you’ve stopped that Robert. But anyway, now we’ve got another returnee, with Citizen Crow facing off against Dace Night in a hardcore contest.

 

Riley: Ahh, those two beating the hell out of each other. It’s all fun. I can just sit back, relax and wait for the peanuts guy to come around.

 

WE WANT HARDCORE! WE WANT HARDCORE! WE WANT HARDCORE!

 

The chant breaks out around the stadium as Funyon stands in the middle of the ring and Nick Soapdish rolls under the ropes ready for the match. Security staff push the fans back from the railings as Funyon starts his announcement…

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest will be for one fall under Hardcore rules…

 

Yyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Funyon: Introducing firstly, from Birmingham England, weighing in at two hundred and fifty two pounds … DACE …

 

FUCKING!

 

Funyon: NIGHT!

 

Rrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Hero screams into life with the showers of pyro, lighting up the sky around the arena. Standing at the top of the ramp, Dace Night looks out at the crowds as he strides out. Pulling off his t shirt and tossing it into the forth row, Dace climbs the ring apron and throws the horns up into the air, grinning to the fans. Ducking through the ropes into the ring, Night leans back, letting his spine crack, exchanging a nod with Soapdish and Funyon before leaning back in the corner.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, from Adelaide Australia, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds … THE ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR … CROW!

 

HHHHEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRR ME NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!

 

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Imperium screams into life over the darkened arena, as a red spotlight picks out the entrance ramp. With his back to the crowd stands Crow. Swinging around, Crow flares up his zippo and lights up a cigarette. Stalking down the ramp, the Gothic Warrior looks out at the fans as a wall of flames light up the ramp. Stubbing the cigarette out on the ring post, Crow slides into the ring looking out at the fans.

 

WELCOME BACK! WELCOME BACK! WELCOME BACK! WELCOME BACK!

 

Comet: And a warm reception for the returning Citizen Crow. It’s good to know the fans don’t forget you around here isn’t it Robert?

 

Riley: Well, I’d forgotten him and I really can’t say I missed anything. Damn these fools. This is what we get for being in the state that gave us Slipknot.

 

The Hardcore Goth and the Gothic Warrior stand face to face in the middle of the ring, looking each other up and down and smiling. Horrorcore extends his hand to the Antichrist Superstar, looking down Crow spreads his arms to the fans for a moment before taking Night’s hand and shaking it, to the cheers of the crowd. Moving apart, the two wait as Soapdish calls for the opening bell to start the match.

 

DING, DING, DING!

 

Rrrrrrrrraaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

For a long moment, Dace and Crow stare each other down before moving towards each other slowly, reaching out for a lock up. Shaking his head, Crow pulls away and makes a circle of the ring, waving to the fans. Climbing the turnbuckle in response, Dace throws his arms out to fans, trying to match Crow’s reaction. Both men return to the middle of the ring, edging towards each other once again with the fans chanting their names …

 

DACE! DACE! DACE! CROW! CROW! CROW!

 

Comet: These two have just split the crowd down the middle. Without any bloodshed either, how nice.

 

Riley: Comet, that was just lame. Come on, I’ll cheer when you kill each other.

 

Dace surges forwards, forcing his way into a collar and elbow tie up with Crow, as the Gothic Warrior tries to back peddle his way to the ropes and away from Dace’s grasp. Not letting Crow get away, Night slams a knee into his mid section and drags Crow down into a vice-like Front Facelock. Digging his heels in, Night hauls Crow back away from the ropes towards the middle of the ring, keeping the Facelock clamped on. Trying to fight his way out, Crow latches onto Dace’s wrist and starts to twist, trying to pull himself free of the hold. Swinging from side to side, Dace struggles to keep his grip as Crow twists his body around. With a flash, the Antichrist Superstar flicks himself around, breaking free of the Facelock and holding Night in a Wristlock. Hooking arms, Crow flips backwards, taking Dace over into the mat with an Armdrag.

 

Rrrrrrraaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Scrambling back to his feet, Dace races into Crow like a truck, trying to flatten him into the mat, but the Gothic Warrior ducks out of the way and snaps Dace around and over into the mat with another Armdrag. Rolling back to his feet, Night shoots in again, only for Crow to hook one arm around his shoulder for a Hiptoss. Sandbagging his weight, Night keeps himself planted on the mat, slamming a knee into Crow’s but. Spinning around, Dace hooks Crow up for a Hiptoss of his own, only for Crow to swing with the move and land at Night’s other side. The Aussie Goth flicks his body forwards and finally takes Dace over with a Hiptoss. The Brummie Goth is down for less then a second before shooting back to his feet, only to take both of Crow’s boots in his face with a Dropkick from the Antichrist Superstar.

 

Yyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: Citizen Crow hasn’t lost his touch, outpacing Citizen Night with a series of Armdrags and a big Hiptoss into a Dropkick.

 

Riley: I thought this was meant to be a Hardcore match. Is this going to end up like Dace’s match against Insane Luchador?

 

Springing back to his feet, Crow arches his back before waving to the fans, rubbing at his neck as the last effects of the Facelock fades away. Turning his attention back to Horrorcore, the Aussie Goth starts seeing stars as a huge arm connects with his face and sends him into the mat. Quickly dragging Crow back to his feet before he recovers, Dace swings his arm in a huge arm, drilling the Antichrist Superstar with a Knife Edge Chop that echoes around the night air. Drawing his arm back again, Night delivers another Chop and another. Staggering backwards, Crow holds his chest, trying to get his breath back. Lashing out with one arm, Crow blocks another Knife Edge Chop from Dace and fires off one of his one, leaving a red mark on the chest of the Trinity leader. Sucking in air, Crow fires of another Chop, leaving an even redder mark.

 

SMACK! Wwwwwwwwwooooooooooooooooo!

 

As Night back peddles across the ring from the force of the blows to his chest, Crow moves in again and launches off another Chop but now Dace is one step ahead of him. Ducking under the swipe, Night clamps his hands around Crow’s midsection and snaps backwards, sending Crow through the air and dumping him into the mat with a Northern Lights Suplex. Instead of going into a Bridge, Dace twists over and hauls Crow back up to his feet, switching his grip and trapping Crow in the Front Facelock once again. Grabbing a handful of Crow’s tights, Night leans back and drags two hundred and thirty pounds of Aussie Goth high into the air. Kicking his legs to shift his centre of gravity, Crow twists his body and gracefully lands on his feet behind Dace. Snapping his leg into the air, Crow drills his boot into the side of Night’s head with a huge Das Wunder Kick, with a crack that echoes around the crowds. Collapsing forwards from the blow, Dace drops to the mat and rolls under the ropes, dropping to the floor.

 

Yyyyyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

CROW! CROW! CROW! CROW!

 

Comet: Dace and Crow exchange some sting Knife Edge Chops and it looked like Citizen Night had the upper hand, only for Citizen Crow to nail him with that ever deadly Das Wunder Kick.

 

Riley: Dace must feel like he just got out of one of those horrible Death Metal concerts he likes to go to.

 

Propping himself up on the railings, Night tries to shake the ringing out from his skull and stand up. Vaulting himself to the top turnbuckle, the Antichrist Superstar balances on the top rope for a moment before launching himself off at the stunned Dace Night. Flipping through the air, Crow crashes back first into Horrorcore flattening him to the outside matting with a Somersault Senton Plancha. Soapdish clambers out of the ring and to the floor where both Hardcore loving Goth’s are in a tumbling heap, clutching at their aches. The Gothic Warrior is first back to his feet, as Night tries to crawl back to his feet. Grabbing a chair from a fan in the front row, Crow swings it overhead and drills a rising Night full force in the head. Crumbling up like an accordion, Horrorcore drops straight back to the floor, splayed out like an eagle. Pouncing on his fallen opponent, Crow makes a cover on the floor as Soapdish dives in to count the fall.

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

……TWO! Kickout!

 

Yyyyyyyaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Using the railings to push himself back to, Crow backs off a few steps, drawing in breath, even as Dace us railings to drag himself back up as well. Cutting Horrorcore off his a boot to the ribs, Crow clamps on a quick Front Facelock and snaps himself backwards. Yanking Dace down, head first into the steel chair on the floor, Crow nails a nasty looking DDT, causing a few fans in the front row to wince. Toppling to his side from landing on his head, Night lays hardly moving with fresh blood starting to pump from his forehead. The Antichrist Superstar swings himself over on the floor and grabs a leg, making another cover on the Brummie Goth…

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

 

……TWO!

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A QUARTER!

 

 

 

……Kickout!

 

Rrrrrrrraaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

 

LET’S GO DACE! LET’S GO DACE! LET’S GO DACE!

 

Comet: Citizen Crow just showed he’s still got his wings and his weapons. With that Somersault Senton Plancha and just drilling Citizen Night into that chair with a DDT. But it still looks like it will take far more than that to keep Dace Night down for the three count.

 

Riley: Bah, I don’t know why these damn people are cheering for it. At least Dace is bleeding. Ahh, I remember bleeding like that…

 

Comet: Please Robert, we all know you enjoy Hardcore, but do you have to talk about these things on air?

 

Looking to up the Hardcore game, Crow slides under the ring apron from a moment and comes out, dragging a table with his to the delight of the fans. Pulling out the legs and setting up the table between the ring apron and the barrier, the smiling Gothic Warrior creates a platform between the two. Meanwhile Night slowly drags himself up to his feet, blood running down his face and starting to trickle down his chest. Like a drunk man, Dace stumbles along the ringside area, clutching onto the railings for support. Seizing on Horrorcore as he stumbles forwards, Crow slips behind him and hooks his arm around Night’s head. Sweeping Night’s leg backwards, the Antichrist Superstar falls backwards, slamming Dace back first into the steel railings…

 

CLANK! Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

…Throwing Dace back onto the floor, Crow drops into a cover again, cradling up both legs this time as Soapdish dives back in to count the fall…

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

……TWO!

 

 

 

……TWO AND A QUARTER!

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A HALF!

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Yyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

 

CROW! CROW! CROW! CROW! CROW!

 

Comet: A Side Russian Leg Sweep into the security railings from the Antichrist Superstar. So far Citizen Crow has taken control of this match and is dominating Citizen Night. It looks like Crow being complete fresh is more of a plus than his ring rust is a negative.

 

Riley: Yer, but slamming yourself into the railings as well isn’t going to help that. And you’ve got to wonder, if all it will take is another big move onto the floor. I’m sure these baseball fields aren’t soft to land on.

 

Leaving Dace on a heap on the floor, clutching at his back and head, Crow picks up the chairs and sets it up halfway between the ringside and the railings. Hauling the dazed Horrorcore to his feet, the Gothic Warrior dumps him on the chair and slams home a few right hands for good measure. With even more fresh blood from flowing from his head now, Dace lets his hand hang back, trying to suck in air and shake out the cobwebs. Leaping into the ring apron, Crow points Babe Ruth style at the sitting form of Dace Night. Charging along the apron, Crow dives forwards, sticking his feet out and driven them into Dace’s chest. The force of the blow knocks Dace backwards, over the back of the chair and leaves him sprawled out on the floor, looking up into the sky. Crawling forwards, Crow drapes himself across Dace, the impact on the floor ringing in his bones slightly as he makes another cover…

 

……ONE!

 

 

……TWO!

 

 

 

……TWO AND A QUARTER!

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A HALF!

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Rrrrrraaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

LET’S GO DACE! LET’S GO DACE! LET’S GO CROW! LET’S GO CROW!

 

Comet: Running Dropkick from the apron onto the helpless Citizen Night. Can’t have been that good for Crow, but he’s wearing Dace down even more, and he’s still got that table set up at ring side.

 

Riley: Dace is really suffering these days. Crow hasn’t been wrestling in a while, but he’s still kicking Horrorcore’s ass.

 

Sitting up to his knees, the Antichrist Superstar holds his back for a moment, stretching it out from the impact on the floor, as Dace lays in a pool of his own blood on the floor. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Crow stands up and drags Dace up along with him and slips his way into a Rear Waistlock. Planting his feet on the floor, Crow strains backwards, trying to launch Dace through the air with a German Suplex. Desperately fighting to avoid the move, Horrorcore leans all his weight forwards and clutches onto the rails, sandbagging against Crow’s effort. With his strength advantage, Dace jerks his arm backwards driving it into the face of the Gothic Warrior and almost breaks his nose. Grabbing Crow by the back of the head, Horrorcore drives him forwards and sends his face crashing into the railings, causing blood to star pouring from Crow’s face.

 

CLANK! Rrrrrraaaaaaaaahhhhhh!

 

FUCK ‘IM DACE! FUCK FUCK! FUCK ‘IM UP DACE! FUCK FUCK!

 

Catching the staggering Crow around the waist, Dace hauls backwards and falls towards the mat, flipping Crow over and planting him back first on the floor with a Gutwrench Suplex. Rubbing the blood from his face, Night slams his fists into the floor, trying to build up momentum in himself, his head finally starting to clear out. Pushing himself up to his feet, the Brummie Goth drags Crow up, staring him in the eye before rattling his brains with an Elbow Smash. A second one nearly topples Crow to the floor before Dace scoops him up and slams the Antichrist Superstar into the floor with a sick sound.

 

THUD! SMACK! Oooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: Citizen Night starts fighting back! He can still back a punch behind those elbows and he just rattled Crow’s spine with that Scoop Slam on the floor!

 

Riley: Remember the days when that would have been deadly? It must be all the drugs wrestlers take these days. Only way they’re surviving all these insane bumps.

 

Sagging to his knees, Dace holds the ring apron for support, sucking down air before pushing himself back to his feet. The Antichrist Superstar slowly start to roll back to is feet as Dace dives in at him, dragging Crow into a Double Underhook. Pausing for a moment, Dace tries to snap himself backwards to drill Crow with a High Angle Double Arm DDT but the Gothic Warrior wriggles one arm free and rolls backwards, cradling Dace up into a small package…

 

Comet: SMALL PACKAGE THIS COULD BE IT!

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

……TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A QUARTER!

 

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A HALF!

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A …KICKOUT!

 

Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

A huge rumble of stamping feet and clapping breaks around stadium as Dace kicks out. The Antichrist Superstar scrambles back to his feet, dragging himself up onto the apron, feeling fire running up and down his back. Stumble back up, Horrorcore looks around for Crow, spotting him, Dace advances on his opponent. Using the ropes to support himself, Crow stands slowly and lashes his foot up, cracking Night in the side of the head. Leaping from the apron, Crow catches Night in a Facelock and swinging around, plants him on the floor with a skull cracking Murderous DDT.

 

SMACK! Rrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

WE FELT THAT ONE! WE FELT THAT ONE! WE FELT THAT ONE!

 

Comet: MURDEROUS DDT ON THE FLOOR! This one has to be over now. Citizen Crow just delivered the final blow on a battered Dace Night.

 

Riley: Mwahaha, this is what I like to see. Dace is leaving a mini red sea on the floor. And on some of the front row as well by the looks of it. Tsk tsk, don’t want to get sued.

 

Draping himself over Dace’s crumpled form, Crow just lays there, trying to set his head straight as the chant of the crowd starts to ring in his eyes…

 

OOOONNNNNNNEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

TTTTWWWWWWWOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTTHHHHHRRRRR---NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

DACE! DACE! DACE! CROW! CROW! CROW!

 

Both Goth’s end up on their back on the floor, looking up at the sky, listening to the chants of the fans and the ringing in their ears. Blood pumps from both Dace’s and Crow’s forehead, pouring down their faces and chests, pooling on the floor. Soapdish stands over both men, checking to make sure they’re still alive and able to continue. Rolling over onto his front, the Gothic Warrior slowly rises to his feet, watching blood drip to the floor under him. Looking over at the still untouched table, Crow looks back down at Dace, who is still laying out on his back. Straining to pull the dead weight of the Trinity leader to his feet, Crow grits his teeth before finally getting him up. Loosely dragging Dace along with him, Crow rolls him onto the table before climbing up onto the apron. Drawing a finger across his through, the Antichrist Superstar drags night up into a Front Facelock…

 

Yyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: He’s going for the Natural Born Chaos! Citizen Crow is going to drive Citizen Night though that table and it’s all going to be over right now.

 

Riley: With the beating Crow has been dishing out so far, we can hope Crow breaks the limey sod’s neck. Or he breaks his own back from all those landings on the floor.

 

…As survival instincts kick into life, Dace latches into Crow’s pants his one arm and franticly starts to unload Elbow Smashes into Crow’s side. Shoving Crow backwards, Dace breaks free from the Facelock and starts to hammer away on the Aussie’s face with every Elbow Smash he can swing. With one final blow that sends Crow tripping backwards over his own feet into the ring ropes, Dace stands back for a moment. Dace hauls the Gothic Warrior back across the table and swings him around. Clamping on a Rear Waistlock, shooting a look over his shoulder into the crowd, Dace yells a warning as he arches backwards. A two hundred and thirty pound Gothic Australian missile goes flying over the railings and crash lands into a pail of chairs in the second, third and forth rows.

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Comet: GERMAN SUPLEX INTO THE CROWD! Dace just turned the tables right around and dump Crow right in the fans laps.

 

Riley: Oh jesus, he’s still trying to kill people! He could have kill half of that section with that one!

 

Hoping over the railings, Soapdish scrambles over chairs to check on the mangled heap of Crow’s body as Dace slowly rolls over the table, over the railings and into the front row. Crawling towards Crow, Night shoves the piles of scattered chairs out of the way and flops on top of Crow, barely managing to cradle up a leg to make a cover in the crowd. Soapdish hits the floor for the count, as the fans all around chant along with the count…

 

OOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTTTTTTTTWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Comet: HOLY COW! CROW GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

 

Riley: What the hell did I tell you about those drugs! He’s probably got a broken back right now and he can’t even feel it!

 

THAT’S HARDCORE! THAT’S HARDCORE! THAT’S HARDCORE! THAT’S HARDCORE!

 

The chant rings out from the surrounding fans in respect for the Antichrist Superstar. Back on his feet, Dace Night shakes his feet, looking at the pool of blood he and Crow have just made on the floor. Drawing a thumb across his throat, Dace points out towards the still unbroken table. Reaching down and pulling Crow up by the arm like some movie scene, the Aussie Goth sags forwards, not even able to stand on his own. Ducking down, Dace scoops Crow across his shoulders into a Fireman’s Carry and slowly starts to stagger towards the railings. Standing on a nearby chair, Dace gets one foot onto the railings, wobbling as he tries to balance with the weight of Crow across his shoulders. Pushing up with all his strength, Night stands for a moment on the rails before diving backwards. Crow finally realises what’s going on as it’s to late. Crashing backwards, Dace slams Crow through the table with a Samoa Drop from the railings.

 

SMMMMAAASSSSHHH!

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Comet: SAMOA DROP FROM THE RAILINGS THROUGH THE TABLE! This has to be it now. What else can these two throw at each other and still get up?

 

Riley: Well Comet, know these two weird ass Goth’s probably a lot more. But that has to hurt! This all the bumping Crow’s already done on this back!

 

Laying in a heap of the broken table, with Crow still under his back, Dace can barely move as Soapdish dives in again and starts to count the fall…

 

OOOONNNNNNEEEEEE!

 

 

 

TTTTTWWWWOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTTTHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

DACE F’N’ NIGHT! DACE F’N’ NIGHT! DACE F’N’ NIGHT! DACE F’N’ NIGHT!

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner… DACE NIGHT!

 

Yyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: And it’s finally over. These two greats of SWF Hardcore battled it out and finally it came to an end. Dace Night just managed to defeat the returning Crow.

 

Riley: Man, there’s blow all over the floor. Someone get towel boy out there to clean it up. And you might want to help Dace and Crow out, I don’t think those two idiots are going to be moving anytime soon.

 

Laying in a pool of blood and broken splinters, the Hardcore Goth and the Gothic Warrior slowly start to stir, grunting in the effort. The image fades out.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

Des Moines is alive and rocking as Lockdown’s theme thunders out across the Sec Taylor Stadium, bringing over eleven thousand Iowan’s to their feet as the show returns from commercial break!

 

“Welcome back, Citizens, and we are just about ready for our next exciting event,” pipes Comet. “In a match that has been rather long in the coming, Alan Clark will finally put his title on the line against the number one contender, Johnny Dangerous! It’s a good thing we have this nice spring breeze blowing through here tonight; this match is going to be hot!”

 

“Oh please, Comet,” growls Bobby. “Quit trying to cover for the fact that THAT idiot Zenon got us booked in a friggin’ ballpark! Not to mention that you’re talking about Alan Clark and Johnny Dangerous here… this match will be about as hot as Terrence Bailey in drag!”

 

“Yikes! You don’t paint a pretty picture there, Citizen Robert,” Comet replies. “Although I’m sure it would peak your interest.”

 

“Uh, excuse me, but did I say Tom Flesher,” ask Bobby. “No, I didn’t think so. Anyway, like I was saying before I was so RUDELY interrupted, you have a Hippie and someone who likes to play James Bond in a match for the Cruiserweight Championship… this has ‘suck’ written all over it! I say we just fast forward to the Nathaniel Kibagami and Toxxic match, where we know we’ll get some good solid wrestling and none of this stunt man show that this match will be.”

 

“We’ll I, for one, am hyped for this,” replies Comet, “I don’t know why your so against this match, but let’s turn this one over to our esteemed ring announcer, Funyon!”

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “the following match, scheduled for one fall, will be conducted under the cruiserweight rules, and is for the SMARTMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIIIIIIIIIIP!! Introducing fist, the challenger… ”

 

As the lights dim, a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice…

 

“JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!”

 

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

 

“From Las Vegas, Nevada,” continues Funyon, “and weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, JOOOOOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DAAAANGEROUUUUSSS!!”

 

Johnny ascends the ramp, flashing that million dollar smile, winking at those luscious ladies that adorn the first row, and smacking as many hands as he can before reaching ringside! Once there, Johnny climbs the steel staircase and carefully glides across the length of the apron. Stopping about midway, he turns to the fans… pantomimes a title belt around his waist then pumps his fist out to them as hundreds of flash bulbs explode!

 

“Johnny Dangerous definitely looks confident tonight,” notes Comet. “He’s defeated Alan Clark once before, so he certainly has that over the Champion.”

 

“Yeah, well we don’t need any kind of a sequel here,” adds Bobby. “It’s bad enough to have Alan Clark with any gold wrapped around his waist, and Johnny winning would just float that belt further down the sewer line.”

 

The lights slowly begin to fade, and the cameras pan across the star light night as the low rumbling sounds of a storm in the distance picks up on the speakers, igniting a cheer!

 

“And his opponent… ”

 

Finally, after several seconds, the crackling sound of thunder booms throughout the arena, jarring everyone loose from their seat! The opening acoustic chords of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” follow suit along with added sounds of raindrops while the Smarktron™ slowly fades to black and white images of Alan Clark. Clark himself finally swipes aside the curtains and steps out onto the stage dressed from head to toe in white with his guitar slung over his shoulder, title around his waist, and wearing a smile a mile wide.

 

“From Long Beach, California, weighing two hundred twenty-five pounds, he is the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOON, AAAAAAALAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!”

 

“Here comes the Champion,” sings Comet. “On Storm Alan Clark was able to defeat Nathaniel Kibagami on his first match back in over six months, he’s definitely got to be riding high on his horse after that one!”

 

“Also, incase you’ve been living in a bomb shelter, it’s no secret that Alan Clark is heading to a massive collision with Landon Maddix…and I’m hoping to see it at Battleground,” Riley says. “The Cruiserweight Championship will be on the line for that ma-”

 

“Hold up a second,” says Comet, cutting Bobby completely off. “We haven’t had a victory by Clark just yet, how are… Wait a second, that’s why you’re so against this match, admit it! You want to see the Cruiserweight title on Landon Maddix, don’t you?”

 

“Damn right I do,” admits Bobby. “We need a solid Ring General like Landon Maddix as Cruiserweight Champion, not these circus acts Johnny and Alan give us. If Johnny wins the belt, I know he’ll do everything in his power to refuse a title match against Maddix, just because he’s a selfish prick!”

 

“Are you doubting the intestinal fortitude of Operative Dangerous,” questions Comet. “Along with Wildchild, He’s defeated Landon Maddix and Todd Royal twice. I highly doubt he’d be worried about the Cockroach now.”

 

Alan strolls down the ramp at a rather leisure pace, taking the time to slap a few hands before heading over to the Timekeeper’s table and depositing his guitar. He turns to the ring, slides in, and stands to his feet, unfastening the title belt as he heads to a turnbuckle. Alan Climbs up and raises the belt to the fans… to a wonderful pop!

 

“You are going to think I’m mad,” says Bobby, “but I am totally pulling for an Alan Clark victory here tonight.”

 

“As I would have expected,” sighs Comet, “and for all the wrong reasons. However, I wouldn’t be surprised to see this match go either way as both men have a lot going for themselves here tonight!”

 

Referee Sexton Hardcastle takes the title belt and holds it out for all to see – to a tremendous cheer - as this title is most definitely on the line tonight! He hands the belt off to a ringside assistant then turns and signals for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bells gone,” says Comet, “and this match is underway!”

 

The two competitors slide into the middle of the squared circle and begin making a quick circle of each other before Johnny and Alan finally collide with a collar-and-elbow tie up! For a heated second, the pair seems to be evenly matched… grunting, groaning, and grinding their teeth as they push against the other with all their might, powerfully flexing and struggling for control! Alan begins to overcome Johnny as he forces the Barracuda halfway down on one knee, but just as he does… Johnny suddenly surges with strength, powering the Champion all the way back into a corner! Like the good referee that he is, Sexton quickly interjects himself into the mix, sliding between the two competitors to break them apart…

 

SMACK!

 

… And Johnny sneaks in a quick backhand to an “OOOOH!” from the crowd, smacking the taste right out of the Champion’s mouth! Alan’s hand instinctively goes to the side of his face as his eyeballs lock on hard with Johnny’s, almost shocked by the slap. Johnny cocks his arm back and steps forward… but the Champion reaches out with a mighty growl, grabbing Johnny by his shirt and slamming him into the turnbuckle…

 

Whap!

Whap!

 

… And blast the Barracuda in the mouth with a hard right followed by a left to a huge cheer!

 

“Johnny would be best advised not to piss off Alan Clark too much,” warns Bobby. “The last thing he will want to see is the REAL~ Alan Clark making an unexpected visit here tonight!”

 

“Or the magical Bloodshed for that matter,” adds Comet.

 

Alan grabs onto the neck of Johnny’s form fitting (read: sexy) black shirt, and TEARS it open to reveal his chest, and… much to the Champion’s dismay gets a loud pop from the ladies for it! He replies to the crowd with a sarcastic golf clap, then shoves Johnny back against the ring post and…

 

SMACK! “WHOOOOO!”

 

SMACK! “WHOOOOO!”

 

SMACK! “WHOOOOO!”

 

SMACK! “WHOOOOO!”

 

Unloads with a series of eye-watering knife-edged chops, lighting up Johnny’s chest! He grabs the Barracuda by the wrist, forcefully whipping him across the ring towards the adjacent turnbuckle, and Johnny’s back slams into the post with a sickening thud!

 

“And Alan Clark is going platinum,” says Comet. “He’s making rather short work of the Barracuda and breaking all kinds of records by doing it!”

 

“That’s why HE is the Cruiserweight Champion, Comet, not Johnny,” spits Bobby. “For now at least…until Landon sinks his claws into Clark’s musical ass!”

 

Dangerous pops out of the corner grimacing and holding his back as Alan Clark rushes in, hooking Johnny’s arm, and with a quick pop of his hip, flings the Secret Agent to the mat with a textbook hip toss! Johnny hits the canvas, absorbing the blunt of the impact on his pelvis before rolling to his feet. He rushes forward and recklessly swings for Alan’s skull, but the Champion easily side steps the attempt, again hooking the arm and sends the Barracuda tumbling to the mat with another hip toss! This time, however, Johnny stays down on the mat, winded, and Alan takes notice. He speeds towards the edge of the ring and leaps to the second rope, giving it one quick bounce before springing off with a back flip, and crushing Johnny with a Lionsault to a loud pop!

 

“I hate to say this as I would love to see a Johnny Dangerous run with the Cruiserweight belt,” says Comet, “but I think he might be done for!”

 

“Music to my ears,” adds Riley.

 

Alan stays in position for a cover as Hardcastle slides in for the count.

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!! Johnny gets a shoulder up, breaking the count to a round of applause from the crowd! Slowly the Barracuda rises to his feet, locking eyes with Alan as he massages his beet-red chest. Clark steps in, and once more the two begin to circle each other…

 

… And Alan lunges forward looking for a second tie up, but Johnny side steps the offer and reaches from behind, grabbing him in a side headlock! He tightens down, but not with enough effort to subdue the struggling Alan Clark, who manages to pull Johnny into the ropes, and uses the momentum to shove Dangerous off! Johnny heads across the ring, hits the ropes and comes charging back towards Alan, but Clark takes off from his side of the ring, looking to meet Johnny in the middle…

 

WHAM!

 

… And Johnny dives into the air, slamming himself into Clark with a cross-body, and flattening the Champion on the mat!

 

“And Operative Dangerous is making a valiant attempt to gain control,” shouts Comet as Johnny quickly floats over for a cover, wasting no time.

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

T-NO!!! And Clark waste no time kicking out, and with authority!

 

“Not much for that one,” snickers Bobby. “Johnny couldn’t even get a two count for his effort.”

 

Once again, Johnny pulls Alan up and snaps on a firm headlock, only this time he dashes toward the edge of the ring, towing Alan along for the ride! He leaps over the top rope to the outside floor, dropping Clark’s neck across the top rope with a clothesline, and the Champion goes bouncing off the rope and flops to the mat to a huge cheer!

 

“Who the hell does he think he is,” mutters Riley, “the Macho Man?”

 

Alan clenches both hands around his neck, gagging, and Johnny reaches through the bottom rope, snaring Clark’s foot and dragging him right out of the ring! Sexton leans over the top rope and begins to issue the countdown, which seems to fall on deaf ears for the time being.

 

“ONEEE!!”

 

“Here comes one of the advantages of wrestling under Cruiserweight rules,” notes Comet. “A twenty count replaces the standard ten count of norm, giving these guys plenty of time to deal some damage on the outside and slide their opponent back in for the pin.”

 

“TWOOO!!!”

 

Johnny backs away as Alan gets to his feet… then comes charging back and ferociously slams his arm into the Champion’s throat, flooring him instantly! Dangerous reaches down and grabs a handful of Clark’s unkempt hair, pulling him to his feet, then leads him over toward the announce table as the referee reaches the count of:

 

“FIVEEEE!!”

 

“Hey, hold on a minute,” shouts Bobby, What are they do-”

 

WHAM!

 

“SIIIIIX!!!”

 

Slamming Alan’s forehead straight into the table! His head bounces of the table like a well-aired basketball, and he staggers backward, holding his head. Johnny climbs onto the top of the table… and holds his arms out to the fans who reply with a huge roar of cheers!

 

“SEVEEEEN!!!”

 

“Get down, you fool,” screams Riley, but an evil eye from Johnny silences the announcer.

 

“EIIIIGHT!!!”

 

He turns back around, and dives toward Clark with an elbow leading the charge as Alan gets up to his feet. Unfortunately, for Johnny that is, the Champion bravely moves forward, snatching Johnny out of mid-air and tilt-a-whirls him around…

 

WHAM!!

 

… And down over his knee with a hellacious backbreaker to an “OOOOH!” from the crowd!

 

“NIIIIIINE!!!!”

 

“What a counter,” marvels Comet. “Alan Clark hit’s a Chart-breaker to knock Johnny Dangerous off the top ten! The Barracuda gave him a little too much time to gather his bearings there, and paid dearly for it!”

 

“TEEEEEN!!!!”

 

Clark stands back to his feet, smacking his head a little to shake the cobwebs, then reaches down grabbing Johnny by the chin and pulling him to his feet.

 

“Alan could destroy Johnny on the outside,” intones Riley, “then crawl back into the ring before twenty and get a count out victory.”

 

“He could,” replies Comet, “but I don’t think that’s the style of Citizen Clark – I think he wants to pin Johnny Dangerous!”

 

Sure enough, Comet’s words apparently ring true. Alan rolls Johnny into the ring as Sexton nears the count of thirteen, and subsequently follows him in.

 

“Told you so,”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“And we have a cover!”

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-NO!!!! Johnny gets a shoulder up! Alan slaps on a quick arm wrench, and uses it to pull the Barracuda to his feet, then steps forward, whipping Dangerous across the ring! Johnny hits the ropes and rockets back to Alan as the Champion lunges forward, looking to take Dangerous’ head off with a clothesline, but Johnny ducks down and sails right under the arm, and runs to the opposite rope! He leaps to the second rope, and before Alan can even spin around to face his opponent, Johnny bounces off…

 

WHAM!!

 

“And LEVELS Alan Clark with a springboard dropkick,” shouts Comet. “He caught the Champion by total surprise there!”

 

Johnny reaches down, grabbing the Champion by the head to pull him to his feet, and rocks Clark’s ribcage with a sharp kick to keep him subdued, and marked with a “Oof!” from Alan as the wind escapes his lips. This time its Johnny’s turn to go Irish. He grabs Clark by the arm, whipping him across the ring. Alan hits the ropes and rebounds as Johnny ducks down telegraphing a back body drop that Clark sees a mile away! He slams on the brakes and grabs Johnny by the head…

 

WHAM!

 

“And Citizen Clark absolutely DRILLS the back of Johnny’s head into the canvas,” reports Comet, “some quick thinking by the Champion indeed as he once again makes a dive for control!”

 

“Please, Comet, how much thinking did Alan really need to do there? I mean, come on, don’t give credit where it ain’t due… Johnny practically telegraphed that one clear to China!”

 

Clark stands back to his feet, and heads for the turnbuckles, climbing to the second rope of the inside before leaping off. He soars towards the crumpled Johnny with his elbow stretched out, and drops it right in the Secret Agent’s sternum! The fans let out a solid cheer as Johnny convulses on impact and Alan floats over for a cover.

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

NO!!! Johnny kicks out, but then flattens back out on the mat, showing some signs of exhaustion. Alan, like before, takes his chances when they are given, and quickly darts to the ropes, leaps to the second, and back flips off looking for his second Lionsault of the evening…

 

 

…NOO!! Johnny quickly rolls out of the way, and Alan slams face-first into the mat! Johnny rolls back to his feet, and again pulls the Champion back to his feet, but Alan quickly fires off a stiff right hook into the Secret Agent’s kisser that sends him staggering backwards! Alan moves in… but Johnny quickly rams his open fist into the Champions face, right between the eyes, with a Shotei Palmstrike, sending a tidal shockwave into his dome!

 

WHACK!

 

Alan stumbles to the side, and Johnny steps in, grabbing Alan by the head and pulling him into a front face lock! Finally, he grabs the Champion’s near arm and drapes it across his shoulder before grabbing Clark’s tights and lifting him up in a vertical suplex! He stalls for a moment as the crowd begins to rise with enthusiasm…

 

WHAM!

 

… Then falls backward, slamming Alan back-first into the canvas!

 

“And a beautiful vertical suplex by the Challenger,” exclaims Comet. “Johnny’s heading to- wait! Wait! What’s this!?”

 

Having kept Alan snagged into his face lock, Johnny kicks his leg out and whirls it to the side, using the momentum to roll himself over, and get back on his feet…and towing the Champion back to his feet along with him!

 

“Oh my,” shouts Comet, the roar of the crowd nearly drowning him out. “Johnny’s going for the rolling variation – I don’t think I have ever seen him pull this out before!”

 

Johnny grabs a second helping of Clark’s tights, and again, lifts the Champion up in a vertical suplex! This time, however, there’s no stall included and Johnny quickly thrusts backward…

 

WHAM!

 

… And ferociously slams Alan into the mat to a chorus of cheers!

 

“Oh hell, not again,” cries Bobby, watching as once again Johnny kicks the leg up and whirls to the side. “He’s going for three?”

 

Like before, Johnny rolls to his feet pulling Alan Clark along with him and lifts the Champion up once more in a vertical suplex, only this time the Barracuda stalls… and stalls longer… flashbulbs popping in the distance…

 

WHAAAM!!

 

… Then finally arches back with everything he’s got, completely shattering Clark’s spine as he drills him back-first into the ring for the third time straight!

 

“What an incredible series of vertical’s by Operative Dangerous,” marvels Comet. “He’s pulling out all the stops tonight to try and secure the Cruiserweight Championship around his waist, and he might have done it with that one!”

 

“There’s no way in hell Johnny goes home with the title tonight,” fumes Riley. “GET UP ALAN, GET UP!”

 

 

ONEEE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Alan gets the shoulder up, forcing Sexton to SLAM on the brakes just a nanosecond BEFORE making the third count, and forcing Des Moines OFF the bleachers and TO their feet with a THUNDEROUS cheer!!

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

“YES,” shouts Riley, throwing both arms into the air!

 

“I… I can’t believe it,” marvels Comet. “I almost thought it was the END for Alan Clark as Cruiserweight Champion right there, Bobby, but the will to go on is strong with this one!”

 

“Who are you trying kid,” replies Bobby, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. “I knew he’d kick out of that…Alan was just milking it for all it was worth… Yeah, that’s it!”

 

“Well, he did managed to kick out, but I think it took everything he had as there wasn’t too much authority behind it.”

 

Johnny sits up to his knees, obviously a little frustrated, but he presses on like a good solider. He glances down towards Alan, taking note of the Champion still trying to gather himself on the mat and decides to take advantage of the situation, and heads for the turnbuckle.

 

“Oh no,” mutters Bobby. “Johnny wouldn’t go for a moonsault double stomp on another Cruiser… would he?”

 

“I hadn’t thought he would,” Comet replies with an unsure tone. “But you can never underestimate what someone will do when you put a title on the line, especially when… Wait! Hold on a sec, Bobby, I think… Yes! Alan’s moving…he’s still got some life left in him!”

 

Alan finally rolls over onto his stomach while Johnny, with his back to the ring, steps up to the first rope… then the second.

 

“Here comes the second burst of adrenalin,” shouts Bobby as Alan scrambles to his feet and charges towards the turnbuckle! “… And I’m not talking about Hardcastle either!”

 

Clark slides in from behind and wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist, nearly causing the Barracuda to leap from his skin and giving him no time to react before tearing him off the ropes, and hauling him over…

 

WHAAAM!!!

 

… AND DRIVING HIM INTO THE MAT WITH A SICKENING GERMAN SUPLEX, FOLDING JOHNNY UP LIKE AN ACCORDIAN! The crowd rises up with a solid cheer, and even a chant breaks out from the grandstands!

 

“AAAAAL-AN!”

“AAAAAL-AN!”

“AAAAAL-AN!”

“AAAAAL-AN!”

 

“Whoa,” shouts Comet. “WHAT a maneuver by the Cruiserweight Champion, Alan Clark! He saw what Johnny was up to and IMMEDIATELY sprung into action!”

 

“But he’s too exhausted to cover,” shouts Riley. “Alan is just inches away from Johnny, but he’s not moving!”

 

Chants of his name begin to stir Clark. Slowly he begins to regroup, and rolls onto his stomach, pushing himself off the mat with both arms… and after a few seconds that seem like minutes, he gets back to his feet. Alan gently raps his palm against the side of his head to shake the remaining cobwebs…then stretches his arm into the air and points to the stars!

 

“Citizen Clark is going up top,” says Comet, “and it looks like it’s time to spread some Joy to the World!”

 

“Haven’t these two learned to stay off the turnbuckles yet,” Bobby says with an exasperated voice. “I mean come on, what comes around goes around… watch Johnny get up and knock Alan off now!”

 

Alan springs off the turnbuckle, soaring through the air and spins a full five hundred-forty degrees, pumping his legs and arms in a frog like motion…

 

 

WHAAAM!!!

 

 

… But Johnny gets his knees up, catching Alan Clark right in the chest to a huge roar of cheering! Alan pops off of the Barracuda’s knees, bouncing to his feet and falls to the mat, writhing in pain!

 

Damn it,” curses Bobby, shaking his fist. “I knew he shouldn’t have gone up top, what’d I tell you! I swear if that dumb ass looses the strap, why I’ll… ”

 

“Give it a rest, Citizen Robert,” says Comet, “You’re only cheering for Alan in hopes of him loosing the belt to the Cockroach, and you are ruining an excellent match in the process!!”

 

Finally, Johnny crawls over towards Alan and heaves himself over the Champion’s chest. As expected, Hardcastle slides in for the count…

 

 

ONEEE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Once again, Alan heaves a shoulder out to stop the count to a booming cheer! Johnny gets up to his feet, mostly recovered for the time being, but rather frustrated that he can’t seem to get a pin. He takes his tattered shirt and rips it the rest of the way through, removing it and slinging it to the side to the shrill of all the ladies in attendance! Johnny reaches down and grabs hold of Alan’s leg, twisting on Clark’s ankle to force the Champion over onto his stomach, then steps over Alan’s back and locks on his deadly over-the-shoulder Half Crab!

 

“The Barracuda,” exclaims Comet. “Johnny has the Barracuda locked in and is putting some SERIOUS pressure on Alan’s battered back! This could be it, we could have us a new Champion!”

 

Biting down hard on his lip, Alan tries his hardest to fight back the surging pain! Sexton drops down, asking Clark if he submits, but Clark vigorously shakes his head to refuse while shouting, “NO! NO! NO!”

 

“That’s it Clarky,” cheers Riley, and as Alan opens his eyes he can see the ropes looming in the near distance. He digs his nails deep into the canvas and with his one available foot tries to inch his way forward despite all of Johnny’s weight on top. “You can reach it, COME ON!”

 

Alan DRAGS himself across the mat, inch by painful inch. The ropes are so close that he can almost taste them, and reaching out he can almost feel the ropes grazing across his fingertips!

 

“One more inch and he’ll have it,” reports Comet, “forcing Johnny to break his submission!”

 

Sexton watches in anticipation of calling for the break as Alan sinks his claws deep into the mat to gain that extra little space he needs…

 

… Johnny looks up, and his eyeballs widen when he realizes how close he is to loosing yet another attempt to win this match. He stands up…and drags Alan Clark back towards the middle of the ring, then again locks in his patented submission, the Barracuda! This time, however, Johnny digs his knee into the back of Alan’s neck and grabs hold of both legs, pulling them over his shoulder!

 

“What this,” Comet quizzically shouts. “If the first one was the Barracuda, than this must be a SUPER~ Barracuda!”

 

“Son of a b(BLEEP!)h,” curses Bobby. “I think he had those ropes to begin with, that hold should have been broke – damn that blind Sexton Hardcastle!”

 

Pain shoots down Clark’s spine like an electric current, causing him to cry out in agony! He reaches out with his hands, hoping to make it back to the ropes, but Johnny simply digs his knee a little further into Alan’s neck and jerks his legs back even harder! Alas, the pain is too great and Clark simply closes his eyes, unable to watch the end of his Cruiserweight reign.

 

 

 

TAP!

 

 

TAP!

 

 

TAP!

 

 

And Sexton quickly signals for the bell as the ballpark explodes!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“He’s done it,” cheers Comet, patting a sulking Bobby riley on the back. “By Achilles’ left tendon, Johnny Dangerous wins and WHAT a match that was!”

 

“I can’t believe this,” moans Bobby. “The Cruiserweight Champion just gets worse with every new victory, when will it end!”

 

“After the Flesh” makes its second round for the evening, pounding out across the Sec Taylor Stadium as Sexton Hardcastle retrieves the Cruiserweight Championship from a ringside assistant. He strolls back towards Johnny and hands him the belt, then grabs hold of the Barracuda’s free arm and raises it in victory!

 

“The winner of this match by pinfall,” booms Funyon, “and the NEEEEEEW SMARTMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOON… JOOOOOOOOHNNY DAAANGEROUUUUUS!!!”

 

Hardcastle releases Johnny’s arm but the Barracuda keeps it raised, soaking in the enormous cheers of the crowd. He heads to the corner and climbs the turnbuckle, then takes the title by both hands… and THRUSTS his arms high above his head!

 

“Say what you will, but I think the Barracuda is rather pleased to have captured the Cruiserweight title,” Comet says. “Oh my, we could have us a situation here… ”

 

As Johnny hops down from the turnbuckle and spins around, his smile falls from his face. Standing just inches away is Alan Clark – clenching something dearly to his back and staring hard at the Barracuda. Johnny waits… unsure of Alan’s intentions, but all worries are put aside when Clark graciously offers up his hand, and of course… Johnny accepts it with a firm handshake, much to the delight of Des Moines!

 

“Oh God,” groans Bobby, just before letting his head drop into the announce table.

 

Johnny grabs hold of Alan’s wrist and raises in the air with his own, pointing the crowd’s attention to Clark as the applause continues to reign down.

 

“What a wonderful display of sportsmanship,” says Comet. “It’s not too often that you see this; Johnny giving props to Alan Clark’s reign as Cruiserweight Champion before heading off with the belt.”

 

“Something we can do without,” spits Bobby. “And what reign, this was Clark’s first title defense!”

 

“None the less, these fans are LOVING every second of it and so am I,” sings Comet. “Stay tuned, Citizens, we’ll be right back with more excitement than you’ll know what to do with in just a FLASH~!”

 

A last shot of Johnny and Alan standing in the ring, their arms both raised to the masses is shown…

 

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

“We are back, LIVE on S-W-F LOCKDOOOOWWWWWNNN!” a heroic voice rings out, welcoming the TV audience back. “I’m CYYYYYCLOOOOONNNNNNNNEEEEEE COMET-”

 

“-and I’m partially deafened,” Bobby Riley finishes, pulling off his headset and jiggling a finger in his ear. “I tell you, Comet, you’re a health and safety liability.”

 

“We’ve had a great evening so far, Citizens, and still to come we have the main event to determine the Tag Team Titles!” Comet pimps. “But for now we will see what two men who lost last show can bring to the table - the former ICTV champion Toxxic, and the newly-returned Nathaniel Kibagami! Personally I think that good as Toxxic is, the veteran will take him to school...”

 

Even as the sentence leave Comet’s lips the words “Prepare To Be Proved Wrong” appear in jagged white letters on the blacked-out Smarktron and the crunching guitars of Lostprophets’ ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ start up. The shot cuts to Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the...

 

‘GO!’

 

{B}BOOOM!![/b]

 

...explosion of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! As the smoke clears Toxxic appears at the top of the ramp, dressed as usual in his baggy trousers and ‘Hardcore Punk’ T-shirt - but this time he is accompanied by a girl with black-and-red dreadlocks; a girl carrying the Hardcore Title and who looks strangely familiar...

 

“It’s her!” Comet exclaims as the Straight-Edge Sensation starts down the ramp. “That’s the girl who kissed Toxxic during his match against the Insane Luchador, and then drove Toxxic and Liston to safety on the next show! But what’s she doing here?”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms. “Introducing first; accompanied by his girlfriend Jet; from Nottingham, England, weighing in at 218lbs; he is the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion... TOXXX-XXXIIIC!!”

 

“Well, I guess that answers your question,” Riley comments as Toxxic plants a kiss on the dreadlocked girl’s cheek and rolls under the bottom rope before ascending the turnbuckle and making his Straight Edge sign to the crowd. However, the movement seems to cause the Brit some pain in his left arm and he rubs it as he drops back down to the mat.

 

“And there’s the fallout from his strap match with Citizen Bailey,” Comet points out. “Both Terrence and Janus did some damage to that arm, and I think that already gives Toxxic a weakness going into this bout against the River Dragon.”

 

“Comet, Kibagami lost to Alan Freakin’ Clark!” Riley emphasizes. “I tell you, the man has lost a step in the ring, and hurt arm or not YOUR Straight-Edge Sensation is capable of taking him!”

 

Even as Riley speaks Toxxic’s music fades out and fog begins to billow up from unseen holes in the entrance ramp. The audience falls quiet, then begins to chant as the first haunting notes of Nevermore’s “The River Dragon Has Come” echo through the arena. The Smarktron flickers and crackles, showing nothing more than static…

 

“SIIIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIIIII-LENT!”

 

*BAM!!*

 

Every light in the arena – the house lights, the spotlights near the entrance ramp, even the picture on the Smarktron – suddenly flares blinding white as the distortion kicks in and the music begins to pound through the speakers. The picture on the Smarktron is replaced with the familiar three-stories-high burning ankh…

 

Today, the warning came in the flood…

 

“And his opponent!” Funyon declares as the crowd pops in anticipation. “From Phoenix, Arizona; weighing in at 261lbs... NATHANIIIEEELLLL.... KIBAGAAAAAAMMMMIIIII!!”

 

The man himself comes through the curtains and the fog as the vocals begin, and the lights are finally reduced to their usual level. The Slaughterer briskly makes his way to the ring, ignoring the fans’ cheers completely as the music surges forward. He slides into the ring, rolls to his feet, and walks to the nearest turnbuckle. Kibagami climbs to the top rope and poses in the crucifix position until the music dies down, at which point he hops back off the top rope and turns to face his opponent. Across the ring, Toxxic has removed his shirt and stares straight back at one of the SWF’s most notorious names.

 

“Well Robert, I am certainly eager to see this match,” Comet says as Kibagami and Toxxic lock gazes. “A man at the start of what has already been a very productive career, and a man whose name is linked with some of the best-known events in the SWF.”

 

“Yeah, well I hope Kibagami isn’t basing his assessment of Toxxic on the strap match,” Riley comments. “He’s going to find his opponent much harder to keep track of than Terrence did!”

 

*DING-DING!*

 

Referee Nick Soapdish calls for the bell, and the two men start to circle each other warily. Toxxic is evidently quicker on his feet than the River Dragon and tries to manoeuvre around to find an opening, but as he does so the straight-edger unconsciously shakes his injured left arm a little - a tendency that Kibagami instantly notes. Abruptly, Toxxic rushes in-

 

*WHAP!!*

 

-only to retreat back out again, cursing and cradling his left arm where Kibagami’s kick slammed into his tricep!

 

“First round to Kibagami!” Comet calls as the Slaughterer stands in the middle of the ring, silently daring his opponent to try again. “The River Dragon has immediately pinpointed Toxxic’s weak spot!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation’s eyes narrow, and Toxxic starts to circle once more. This time he keeps going longer, eyes flashing between Kibagami’s feet and face, looking for both a weakness in footwork where he can launch an attack and a warning if the River Dragon is going to go on the offensive himself. Suddenly Kibagami’s legs nearly cross as the heavyweight follows the British rookie’s progress around the ring, and with his opponent unstable Toxxic charges once more. Lightning-swift, Kibagami corrects his footing and lashes out with another kick - but this time Toxxic slides under it and pops up behind his opponent! Taken off guard, Kibagami turns...

 

*SMACK!!*

 

...straight into a superkick from the Hardcore Champion! It’s not enough to put the River Dragon down, but he does drop to one knee. Toxxic looks to follow up, but Kibagami has his own tactic and as the rookie closes in he uses his lower centre of gravity to take Toxxic over with a Fireman’s Carry. Seeking to ground the cruiserweight Kibagami attempts to clamp a front facelock on - but Toxxic squirms backwards and out to the floor!

 

“SIIIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIIIII-LENT!”

 

The chants start up again as Toxxic stands on the outside, staring up at the imposing figure of Nathaniel Kibagami. The Slaughterer shows no sign that he even hears the fans, and with his eyes locked on Toxxic’s face he spreads his arms in the crucifix pose. Annoyed, Toxxic sweeps his own arms wide, palms flat in his Straight Edge position, before jumping back up onto the apron and stepping through the ropes.

 

“Well, both men seem to know what they need to do here,” Comet comments. “Citizen Kibagami needs to slow Toxxic down or the rookie will run rings around him; similarly, Citizen Toxxic needs to employ a hit-and-run tactic!”

 

“It’s big man vs little man, it’s always the same tactic,” Riley complains. “Honestly Comet, you make out like you’re some sort of genius! Anyway, Toxxic has beaten tougher cookies than Kibagami. This isn’t Silent anymore; he wouldn’t last long in a knock-down drag-out brawl against, say, Dace Night - and we all know what happened when he faced Toxxic!”

 

Toxxic starts to circle his opponent again, but Kibagami has had enough of the rookie deciding when to get in close and decides to take matters into his own hands. The burst of movement surprises Toxxic and the River Dragon strikes low with a single-leg takedown that he tries to twist over into a half-crab - but Toxxic manages to slam his other boot into Kibagami’s jaw once... twice... and the Slaughterer releases him. Toxxic rolls backwards, trying to increase the distance between them, but as he comes back over onto all-fours Kibagami dives downwards and slaps on a front facelock. Using his superior strength he pulls Toxxic upright before firing off a brutal knee into the straight-edger’s midsection. The breath blasts out of Toxxic’s lungs and Kibagami strikes again... and again... then grabs Toxxic’s left wrist, wrenches the Hardcore champion’s injured arm up behind his back in a hammerlock and drops him on his head with a DDT! Kibagami rolls into the pin...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Toxxic instinctively turns over onto his front as he tries to get up, and the moment he does so Kibagami comes in again, looking for the facelock. This time however, Toxxic is ready for him; the straight-edger slides out of the way and grabs Kibagami’s right arm before dropping and spinning 360 degrees, wrenching the arm in its socket and driving the River Dragon’s face into the mat. Instantly following up, Toxxic dives onto his opponent with an Oklahoma Roll pin...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

...but it’s not even enough to keep Kibagami down for two. The River Dragon is up just as quickly as Toxxic, and with his head still pounding from the DDT the Straight-Edge Sensation is in no mood to try and outwit his opponent right now. Toxxic dives forwards and hooks Kibagami again, taking him over with a schoolboy-style roll-up...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

...with the same result, as Kibagami powers out again. The Slaughterer tries to get back to his vertical base again, but the moment his head is within range Toxxic grabs it and hooks him into a small package...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Kibagami kicks out before the count of two yet again, Toxxic simply not strong enough to contain the powerful River Dragon. But the extra few seconds has bought the rookie enough time to clear his head and has kept Kibagami off-balance; now he needs to take advantage of it. Before his opponent can properly set himself Toxxic charges in again. Once more Kibagami lashes out with a vicious kick, but once more Toxxic is able to duck under it. The straight-edger springboards back off the second rope - and catches the River Dragon flush on the jaw with a spinning heel kick!

 

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

 

Kibagami is quick to his feet again, but Toxxic is unwilling to give the veteran even a moment to clear his head. Closing the distance he starts peppering him with right hands before switching to European Uppercuts, snapping Kibagami’s neck back and driving him into the turnbuckle. Momentarily overwhelmed Kibagami is unable to defend himself - but then Toxxic tries to Irish-whip him to the other corner. With the assault having suddenly ceased Kibagami blocks the move in the middle of the ring and reverses, sending Toxxic into the turnbuckles instead - but as he follows the Straight-Edge Sensation in the rookie vaults up to the top rope and comes flying back at him with a diving clothesline!

 

“Role Reversal!” Riley shouts as Toxxic takes the River Dragon down using his good right arm. “Kibagami can’t lay a hand on Toxxic at the moment, Comet!”

 

“‘At the moment’ being the operative words there, Robert,” Comet responds as Toxxic rises to his feet, cradling the left arm that he jarred on landing. “Sooner or later Toxxic will get too cocky, and then Citizen Kibagami will cut him down to size.”

 

“There’s no such thing as ‘too cocky’ for Toxxic,” Riley argues. “This man is exactly as good as he thinks he is, and no biased spandex-monkey will change that.”

 

But it’s going to take more than a clothesline to keep Kibagami down, and the River Dragon is up again. Toxxic lashes out with another European Uppercut and forces his opponent back onto the ropes before whipping him across the ring. Kibagami reverses again and it is Toxxic who hits the cables on the other side - but as the veteran ducks his head for a back bodydrop Toxxic applies the brakes and nails him with a facebuster before falling backwards and completing the Sobering Thought with a DDT! Eager to try and take advantage, Toxxic hooks his opponent’s leg for the pin...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

“You’re not going to beat Kibagami that easily!” Comet declares as the River Dragon kicks out powerfully.

 

“Maybe not, but Toxxic has started to work on the head and neck,” Riley points out. “We all know how mangled Kibagami’s neck is anyway, and when Toxxic hits him with a Toxxic Shock Syndrome or a Caffeine Bomb it’s only going to get worse!”

 

Kibagami pushes himself back up, one hand rubbing at his neck and scanning his surroundings for his opponent. He sees the blur of movement approaching from his right-hand side a moment too late to readjust, and both men spin around for a second as Toxxic hooks his arm round Kibagami’s neck and brings him crashing back down with the Straight Edge Neckbreaker! The Des Moines crowd are starting to boo but the rookie pays them no mind and climbs to the top turnbuckle before twirling his fingers over each other in the universal symbol for “high-risk”. Toxxic leaps off and somersaults forward, seeking to crush Kibagami’s windpipe with the Hangover...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

...but the River Dragon moves! Scrambling away Kibagami rises from all fours and hits the ropes on the other side of the ring before rebounding back, streaking towards the wincing straight-edger as Toxxic rises, looking around desperately...

 

“YAAAKUUUUZZZZAAAA KIIIIIIICK!!” Comet yells as Kibagami virtually decapitates his opponent with a devastating running boot to the face. Toxxic hits the ground, and Kibagami drops down for the cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

...but the Straight-Edge Sensation is still unwilling to stay down. With his opponent now back within reach and unlikely to be bouncing away anytime soon Kibagami reverts to his usual strategy - work the arms. Toxxic has rolled onto his front to prevent the River Dragon from making another pin attempt, but that’s not what Kibagami has in mind. Grabbing Toxxic’s left arm the Slaughterer wrenches it out away from the body, then locks in a Fujiwara armbar!

 

“TAP!”

“TAP!”

“TAP!”

 

“And the fans here in the Sec Taylor Arena showing their support for Citizen Kibagami,” Comet declares as the chant rises around them. “This sort of thing must be very demoralising for the rookie - or, well, I suppose it would be if he actually cared what anyone else thought...”

 

“That’s nonsense,” Riley replies as Toxxic yells in pain and reaches for the ropes with his right hand. “These fans aren’t behind Kibagami at all!”

 

“Then why are they chanting ‘tap’?” Comet inquires.

 

“They... they’re showing a preference for a certain dance style!” Riley blusters.

 

Only one voice in the arena is yelling support for the trapped rookie; Jet, pounding the canvas at ringside. Hearing his girlfriend’s voice Toxxic looks up and starts to inch towards her and the ropes she’s next to. Kibagami leans back into his armbar, but despite his best efforts Toxxic is able to make slow progress across the ring floor.

 

“Come on Comet, you have to admire Toxxic’s spirit here in refusing to give up!” Riley says as the straight-edger reaches out again, now only a few inches away from the bottom rope.

 

“Personally Robert, I admire the person who put him in the move in the first place,” Comet responds airily.

 

Toxxic reaches out again, desperately trying to grab the rope and end his torment, but no matter how much he stretches it remains out of reach. Sensing victory, Kibagami leans back still further and tries to put as much pressure on the arm as possible, causing Toxxic to shut his eyes and cry out at the pain... but just as he thinks that the tendons in his left arm are about to give way the straight-edger feels the fingers of his right hand brush the rope, and with an almighty effort he manages to grab it.

 

“Hang on!” Comet cries, outraged. “That girl Jet or whatever her name is pushed the rope into Toxxic’s hand! He never reached it!”

 

“Maybe, Comet, maybe,” Riley concedes as Soapdish remonstrates with Kibagami to release the hold. “But neither Nick Soapdish or Toxxic himself realises that, so how about we keep it as our little secret?”

 

The River Dragon reluctantly relaxes his grip, rolls away and comes smoothly to his feet, ready for any attack - but none arrives. Toxxic pulls himself up on the ropes with his one good arm, dark-ringed eyes blazing but his left arm cradled close to his body. The Straight-Edge Sensation is obviously very wary of Kibagami now, and the Slaughterer realises it. The wide, death’s head grin spreads slowly over his face and he starts to stalk towards the rookie...

 

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

 

Toxxic backs away from the advancing River Dragon and cracks his neck nervously from side to side. He could take this washed-up cripple, certainly - but not now; not with one arm virtually useless; not from this position... Abruptly the rookie realises he’s backing into a corner and dives to one side, trying to evade the oncoming Kibagami, but the former Clansman fields him easily with his right arm before hurling him back into the turnbuckle. Toxxic fires off a right hand...

 

...blocked!

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“WHOOOO!”

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“WHOOOO!”

 

“Spinning knife-edge chops in the corner!” Comet calls as Kibagami pirouettes gracefully, waffling Toxxic’s chest twice in succession. The rookie gasps and covers up, and Kibagami grabs the top rope before springing off the second, jumping up to deliver a springboard gamengiri...

 

...ducked! The River Dragon sails right round as Toxxic dodges the blow that could have concussed him, and lands with his back towards the Straight-Edge Sensation. He tries to turn, but Toxxic reaches forward with his right arm - and hooks in a rear headlock! Using his opponent’s vertical base to prop himself up the rookie hops up to the second buckle, then comes spinning out of the corner with a tornado reverse DDT!

 

“Final Shine!” Riley yells in excitement as Kibagami’s skull goes crashing into the canvas. “C’mon Toxx, cover him!”

 

But Toxxic isn’t going to make the mistake of underestimating Kibagami again. He maintains the rear headlock and starts to lift, pulling Kibagami up off the mat until the River Dragon is arched backwards... then drops to one knee, driving Kibagami’s neck into the other! Without missing a beat the Hardcore Champion pops back up again, twists round and finishes the Detoxx by drilling Kibagami back down with a Diamond Cutter!

 

“Some serious, maintained offence here concentrating on Citizen Kibagami’s head and neck,” Comet says, sounding worried. “It would be a blow to justice if Toxxic won...”

 

“Justice blows!” Riley responds angrily. “Toxxic needs to get back on track after that farce against Janus - what does Kibagami still need to do in the SWF? Hasn’t he done enough already?”

 

Kibagami rolls over onto his back, stunned from the impacts his head and neck have just received. Seeing a chance, Toxxic dives on top of him and hooks the far leg with his right arm...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

“Well, Robert, I think there’s that small issue of the WORLD TITLE,” Comet says, trying to sound unconcerned about the near-fall but failing. “Citizen Kibagami has never achieved that pinnacle of success, despite his best attempts...”

 

“Yeah, but the drugs, painkillers, general all-round bad attitude and nearly killing Edwin MacPhisto might have interfered with that a little!” Riley snarls back as Toxxic gets back to his feet looking frustrated. “Comet, I can’t believe you’re defending this guy!”

 

“Robert, if Mark Stevens is prepared to give him a second chance-”

 

“Zenon isn’t!” Riley yells. “I haven’t heard you criticising Mr. Alphabetti Spaghetti’s judgement on anything else, why are you so stuck up about thi-”

 

“Bobby! The match!”

 

Toxxic has placed Kibagami in a front facelock in the middle of the ring and is staring around at the Iowa crowd. Briefly, the Straight-Edge Sensation pantomimes taking a swig from a can, then reaches down with his left arm and cradles his opponent’s right leg from the inside.

 

“The Caffeine Bomb!” Comet breathes. “If he hits this now, Kibagami could be going down for two straight matches!”

 

“Come on...” Bobby Riley silently wills it.

 

Setting himself, Toxxic wrenches Kibagami up with all his strength. The River Dragon is a bit big for the move, but it should be possible... until a blaze of pain sears down his left arm. Swearing, Toxxic drops his opponent - and Kibagami starts to struggle. Desperately, Toxxic tries to rehook the move and hoist the former Clansman up... but what might be possible at full strength isn’t going to be done when one of your arms is damaged.

 

And this time, Kibagami moves with a purpose.

 

The Slaughterer twists sideways, squirming out of the front facelock and breaking away from the weak grip on his right leg. Half a second later he is behind Toxxic, and reaching up to pin the rookie’s own leg against his chest. Toxxic has a moment in which to struggle before Kibagami bridges backwards...

 

...and drops him right on his head and shoulders with the cradle suplex.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

“Toxxic kicks out!” Comet yells as the rookie manages to fire one shoulder off the canvas. “Citizen Kibagami reversed the momentum yet again, but which man is going to be able to take advantage?”

 

Neither man is moving quickly; Kibagami’s neck is giving him trouble again after Toxxic’s focused attack, but Toxxic’s head, neck, arm and torso are all aching, both from this match and the hectic schedule he’s been having as a former double champion. Despite just taking that cradle suplex Toxxic is first to his feet by a small margin, and charges at his opponent - but he hasn’t fully recovered from the impact, and the margin wasn’t big enough.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

Kibagami’s foot swings round and connects with Toxxic’s jaw in a devastating roundhouse kick, knocking the rookie sprawling sideways. Gritting his teeth against the ache in his neck the River Dragon follows up, firing off kicks at his opponent as the British cruiserweight tries to scramble back out of the way. Toxxic dodges two blows, but then one cracks him on the left arm as he gets to his knees, sending a fresh surge of pain through the limb... Kibagami slams another into the right side of his opponent’s ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs... and as he stares down at the wheezing rookie Nathaniel Kibagami knows he may not need anything as esoteric as a so-called “finisher” to beat Toxxic. The Slaughterer draws his right foot back, then sends it arcing through the air towards the straight-edger’s head...

 

*WHOOSH!!*

 

...and Toxxic ducks again!

 

“BOOOOOOOO-OOOHHHHHHHH!!”

 

The moment Kibagami’s red boot sails over his head Toxxic leaps upwards, and as the River Dragon’s momentum carries him around the Brit laces both hands around his opponent’s forehead and sits out, pulling Kibagami back down and driving the back of his skull into the mat with the Underkill! Reaching forward, Toxxic hooks the leg...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

“Citizen Kibagami is still in this!” Comet yells as the River Dragon’s right arm shoots into the air and he rolls away from the despairing Toxxic. “But how much more can his head and neck take? Come to that, how much more can the rookie dish out?”

 

Kibagami gets up onto all-fours, shaking his head to try and dispel the pain. Toxxic rises to his feet and stares disbelievingly at the former Clansmen - then runs to the ropes, coming off and nailing Kibagami with a basement dropkick to the side of the head! The Slaughterer spins ninety degrees, clutching his temple... but still starts to pick himself up again. Aghast, Toxxic can only watch as his opponent refuses to stay down, and looks around for options. The only things nearby are the ropes - and the ropes have helped him stay ahead of the slower Kibagami so far. Shrugging, Toxxic steps out to the apron, takes hold of the top rope... and waits for the right moment.

 

Kibagami struggles up, holding his head. He is no longer the Silent One; he can no longer shrug off the sort of damage that would cause others to black out. But he is still Nathaniel Kibagami, and while the full meaning of that is clear to no-one else, it means that he will always get back up if he can. His opponent is nowhere in his field of vision; turning on the spot, the River Dragon tries to get a bead on the rookie...

 

...and Toxxic leaps to the top rope, balances for a fraction of a second, then leaps at Kibagami with a flying crossbody. The 218lb human missile impacts chest-to-chest; Kibagami staggers backwards...

 

...and catches him.

 

“RAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!”

“SIIIIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIIIIII-LENT!”

 

“Unbelieveable!” Comet yelps as the Slaughterer steadies himself, Toxxic held at right-angles across his breastbone.

 

“No! This isn’t right!” Bobby Riley yells.

 

Now Kibagami has control. Now the River Dragon is in command. And now, it is time to end it.

 

The former Clansman’s biceps bulge for a second as he prepares himself - then he launches Toxxic upwards, throwing the straight-edger into a vertical position and catching him with one hand under each arm. For a moment Kibagami stands motionless in the centre of the ring, his opponent held in position for what must surely come next.

 

The Fall From Grace.

 

“This isn’t right...” Riley whispers under his breath.

 

Kibagami begins to fall forwards, preparing to drive Toxxic down onto his neck - but the straight-edger isn’t done yet. Fighting out of Kibagami’s grip Toxxic wrenches his arms away, and instead of being slammed down onto the canvas he dives backwards, wraps his legs around the River Dragon’s neck and brings him over in a hurricanrana!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Kibagami lands on the back of his neck, but the momentum carries him back up into a sitting position. The undaunted veteran starts to rise, but before he can get any further than one knee Toxxic barrels into him, raining clubbing forearms down on his head and neck. The assault starts to drive Kibagami back down and into the ropes, and sensing victory Toxxic takes a step back and slaps his shin, calling for the soccer tackle.

 

“Citizen Kibagami needs to pull something out here,” Comet says as Toxxic sets the veteran up against the ropes, “otherwise this somewhat overbearing young Englishman is going to take another scalp!”

 

“Kibagami doesn’t need to do anything except lose, Comet,” Riley answers. “It’s all he’s good for now.”

 

But in the moment it took him to inform the fans of his next offensive move, Toxxic neglected to keep pummelling his opponent. And this being Kibagami, that was foolish. So when the Straight-Edge Sensation attempts to whip the River Dragon across the ring the former Clansman counters the move, and sends the British rookie into the ropes instead. As his opponent rebounds towards him Kibagami sets himself, arms wide... then grabs Toxxic around the chest and launches him backwards with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex!

 

But Toxxic places his hands on the Slaughterer’s shoulders, and pushes to gain more momentum. And flips over. And lands on his feet behind Kibagami.

 

Nathaniel Kibagami isn’t stupid; nor is he deaf. He knows the difference between the crash of someone coming down on their back and the thud of someone landing on their feet. So he turns, right arm extended to take Toxxic’s head clean off with a Burning Lariat. Unfortunately Toxxic’s head is nowhere to be found, because at that moment the Straight-Edge Sensation is slicing a soccer tackle towards the River Dragon’s shins.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

Kibagami topples forwards, pain shooting through his lower legs. It’s a stinging sensation that will pass in a few moments, but right now it numbs his legs and makes it difficult to control them. So when he pushes himself up, knowing he has to get back to his feet before he is outmanoeuvred, he staggers sideways - and Toxxic fires a boot into his midsection before hoisting the veteran up onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry.

 

“What’s Toxxic got up his sleeve now?” Comet asks in astonishment.

 

“Watch and learn, Comet,” a far more relaxed Bobby Riley informs his announce colleague. “Watch and learn...”

 

Now it is Kibagami who is helplessly suspended above the ring, and Toxxic who has control. Toxxic has tried to put his opponent away once, and it didn’t work. If one method doesn’t work, you try another. So he hooks his injured left arm around Kibagami’s neck, knowing that it will have to do little more than guide the head downwards... he hooks his right arm behind Kibagami’s right knee to form a cradle... he bends his legs slightly... then jerks upwards and twists, throwing the River Dragon’s weight off his shoulders and towards the mat, dropping him

 

RIGHT

 

 

ON

 

 

HIS

 

 

FUCKING

 

 

HEAD!!

 

*WHAM!!*

 

“CAFFEINE BOMB!” Comet yells. “Toxxic tried that method against Aecas at From The Fire! The Black Angel was too big, but he’s hit it on Kibagami!”

 

“Count, Soapdish!” Riley yells as Toxxic retains the cradle. “Count!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

 

*DING-DING!!*

 

“Here is your winner,” Funyon booms as the guitars of Lostprophets blast out of the PA system. “TOXXX-XXXIIIC!”

 

“YES!!” Bobby Riley explodes off his seat. “I knew he could do it!”

 

“I’m... amazed, Citizens,” Comet says. “I truly didn’t think that Toxxic could beat Citizen Kibagami... I didn’t think Citizen Kibagami could lose twice in a row...”

 

“Sssh, Comet, our victor wants to say something!” Riley hisses, nudging the superhero in the ribs. In the ring, a battered Toxxic has received his Hardcore title back from Jet, and has a microphone in his hand.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

“Alright, cut the music,” Toxxic says without preamble, leaning back against a turnbuckle. The Lostprophets fade out and the Straight-Edge Sensation stares around at the Iowa crowd but sees only hostility glaring back at him. On the other side of the ring, Nathaniel Kibagami is assisted out to the floor by Nick Soapdish. The River Dragon doesn’t want the help and shakes the referee off before walking up the ramp - slowly, but straight-backed, refusing to acknowledge the man standing in the ring behind him. Seeing him leave the Des Moines crowd starts to applaud, willing to show their respect even in defeat. Toxxic watches the spectacle with a mirthless lopsided grin on his face, reflecting that he gets no applause even though he actually won the match... then raises the mic to his lips and begins his address.

 

“I want to talk about names.”

 

“Names define who we are. But more that that, they define how others perceive us. People can aspire to some names for years with no success; ‘Sir’... ‘Manager’... ’Champion’.” The Straight-Edge Sensation takes a firmer grip on the Hardcore Gamer’s Championship as if to reassure himself of its presence, then plunges on. “Other names, we can strive all our lives to escape, but no matter how far we run they’re always with us;” Toxxic’s lips tighten and his eyes narrow momentarily, his mind regressing to his unpleasant days in high school back in Nottingham. “‘Wimp’... ‘Coward’... ’Loser’.”

 

“I’m not the only one who knows about names. Just ask the nutter who beat me for the ICTV Title, Terrence Bailey.”

 

“TRI-NI-TY!”

“TRI-NI-TY!”

“TRI-NI-TY!”

 

“He goes by another name, sometimes,” Toxxic says, cutting through the chants. “I’m sure you all know it. Thing is, though Janus may eventually come to dominate until no-one remembers Terrence Bailey ever existed, Terrence Bailey will never be able to leave the name of Janus behind him. Even if Janus fades to less than a whisper in Terrence Bailey’s head, people will still remember the Hell Machine and wonder if he might return some day.”

 

Toxxic looks around at the crowd again. Most are waiting for this cocky young rookie to get out of the ring and stop wasting their time; doesn’t he know there’s a Triple Threat Tag for the Tag Team Titles coming up? But here and there a few are looking thoughtful, wondering where the straight-edger is going with this. Toxxic sees them, and he smiles.

 

“Another example; the man I’ve just beaten. The man’s name is Nathaniel Kibagami; he was announced as Nathaniel Kibagami. But that’s not the name you chanted during our match, is it?”

 

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

 

And Toxxic smirks.

 

“Nathaniel Kibagami and Silent are one and the same person, but they are two different people. And it’s Silent that you remember and Silent that you chant for; because of his name. And yesterday or tomorrow, if you asked anyone who they’d expect to win a match between Silent and Toxxic I can confidently predict what the answer would be...” The rookie raises his mic in the air, towards the crowd - and they do not disappoint.

 

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

“SIIIII-LENT!”

 

Toxxic listens to Des Moines chanting the name of the man he’s just vanquished and shakes his head, still grinning that mirthless half-smile.

 

“What I have just achieved means NOTHING!” the straight-edger suddenly shouts. “Because you don’t recognise my name - don’t recognise ME for what I am!” He charges across the ring until he is facing the entrance ramp and the backstage area, climbing the ropes and leaning over them. “Mark Stevens didn’t - I had the best bloody record of ANYONE since I arrived here, but it was Landon Maddix of the ‘Unnamed’ who got the shot at Grappler for the World Title, when I was busy fighting Andrew Rickmen for the entire bloody show! And now at Battleground it’s ‘The Notorious’ John Duran who is the challenger.”

 

Toxxic drops back down to the ring and angrily throws the Hardcore belt away from him, causing Jet to make a diving catch but the Straight-Edge Sensation is so worked up he doesn’t notice.

 

“Let’s be honest here; Duran isn’t the challenger because of his popularity.” He gestures out at the fans in attendance. “You can’t stand him; I can’t stand him; Mark Stevens couldn’t stand him, Zenon can’t stand him - hell, Grappler couldn’t stand him when they were in the Unnamed together! No-one likes John Duran! But still Zenon gives him the shot, because he has the name and Zenon, like Mark Stevens before him, would rather have someone he doesn’t like but who he is familiar with in the title picture, rather than an unknown like me! It doesn’t matter to Stevens or Zenon how good you are - all that matters is if people know your name, because the unknown scares them!”

 

The sheer force of the straight-edger’s anger has actually succeeded in quietening the Iowa crowd, but now Toxxic starts to cool down a little. Taking a deep breath, the man from Nottingham shudders briefly, then reopens his eyes. One side of his mouth quirks up in that lopsided grin, and for a moment he looks like a shark who has just seen the funny side of seal pups.

 

“Well, things are going to change around here.”

 

“Kibagami was a great wrestler,” Toxxic continues, his voice completely genuine, “but he is part of the old way - and we still kill the old way.” The Straight-Edge Sensation pauses to smirk for a moment before raising the microphone again. “The time of people getting preferential treatment because of their name, or how long they’ve been in the federation is OVER! Zenon; you listened to me, you gave me what I wanted - a wrestling match against a wrestler. I have proved to you that I have what it takes. Now give me the chance to prove to everyone here,” the straight-edger gestures around at the huge crowd in the Sec Taylor Arena, “that what I say is true. Give me a chance to prove them wrong.”

 

Toxxic pauses and stares out at the crowd. “Before I’m done I guarantee you this: You will know my name - and you won’t forget me when I’m gone.”

 

“...Well, Citizens, some very emotional words from Citizen Toxxic there,” Comet says, sounding a little shaken as the Lostprophets fire up again and Toxxic drops the microphone and rolls under the bottom rope, followed by Jet. “I’m not sure about their validity though; I mean, I don’t think that anyone would really consider Toxxic to be an ‘unknown’ would they? And that notion he has of Commissioners Zenon and Stevens - ludicrous.”

 

“Come on, Comet, it all makes sense!” Riley enthuses as Jet throws her arm around her boyfriend’s shoulders and they leave up the ramp together, ignoring the fans on either side. “Well, except the bit about Duran not deserving his title shot, if I had my way it’d be Duran vs Toxxic for the title - but anyway, the guy is telling the truth. Even after what we’ve seen today, most of the idiots who tune in would still expect Kibagami to win a match between them, wouldn’t they?”

 

“Well, Robert, that’s due to what we call consistency,” Comet says with strained patience. “Citizen Kibagami has been a feared competitor in this federation for years, while Toxxic has been here less than three months!”

 

“You’re insane,” Riley says as if the matter is settled. “Only possible conclusion.”

 

“...Stay tuned, Citizens, because the Tag Titles are on the line next in a Three-Way Dance, including the debut of hot prospect Todd Cortez!” Comet says to the camera, plastic smile covering his face again as he decides to ignore his partner. “Join us, after the break!”

 

“Cortez? Latino, eh? Sure sounds ‘hot’ to me...” Bobby Riley is heard to say as the picture fades out.

 

COMMERCIAL

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

NO!

 

NO!

 

NOTORIOUS!

 

rings out through the arena, signaling the entrance of John Duran. Totally full of himself, Duran struts out of the locker room, and makes his way down the aisle. Lowering their thumbs, the angry fans “boo” the holy hell out of the Notorious One.

 

Riley: Uh...were back. Are we back?

 

Comet: I’M CYCLOOOOOOOOOOONE COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMET!!!!

 

Riley: Well I’m Bobby Riley.

 

Comet: Indeed you are. Right now my fair citizens, it’s time for the match before the Main Event in which we will see Danny Williams taking on John Duran.

 

Riley: The future World Champion, John Duran.

 

Standing in the center of the ring, Duran raises his arms, hate and anger boiling inside his eyes, those terrible eyes!

 

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is set for a 30 minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 268 pounds, hailing from Champaign, Illinois...THE NOTORIOUS ONE....JOHN DURAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!!

 

Spineshank fades into nothing, but the entrance music of one Danny Williams breaks the silence. Pushing his way out on to the platform, the always focused and intense Danny Williams comes marching out of the locker room.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 245 pounds, hailing from Louisville, Kentucky......DANNY WILLIAMSssssssssssssssssss!!!

 

As Williams makes his way down the aisle, the fans transform into raving lunatics.

 

Comet: In just his third match back, Danny Williams re-established himself as a serious threat to the World Title when he defeated reining Champion, Charlie Matthews.

 

Riley: Than like the asshole he is, he rubs it all in the face of poor John Duran. But mark my words, he’s gonna pay for it.

 

For obvious reasons, the fans are clearly behind Danny Williams, endlessly chanting his name like he’s some sort of pagan God. Like he pointed out in his commentary last week, big John Duran could care less what these mutants think, he just want’s to rip people apart and beat them with their own severed limbs. No longer delaying the inevitable blood bath, Soapdish calls for the bell.

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Like a blood thirsty berserker, Duran explodes across the ring, attacking Williams before he can even get out of his corner! Holding Danny down by his hair, Duran relentlessly slams knees into the side of his skull! Seeking sanctuary, Williams bails to the outside, but the Notorious One makes chase. Leaping off the ring apron, Duran catches Danny in the face with a sickening Diving Knee! Getting an up close and personal look at the damage, the front roll fans can’t help but wince.

 

Riley: Duran is pissed!

 

Comet: Unlike the Grappler, Duran didn’t come here to wrestle citizen Williams. He’s gonna take the fight right to him from the get go.

 

Forcing Danny to his feet, Duran takes him by the wrist, and fires him into the guardrail with authority!

 

Clank!

 

Absorbing the throbbing pain in his back, Williams rockets back at the unsuspecting Notorious One! Hooking Duran around the throat, Danny dives to the floor, tearing his head off with a nasty Neckbreaker Drop! The fans go wild as a sore but determined Danny Williams climbs to his feet. Blood can be seen trickling from Danny’s lower lip which was no doubt busted by one of Duran’s stiff knee shots. By now the adrenaline is really pumping, and Williams is snorting and growling like a crack head.

 

Comet: It would appear as if citizen Williams has willed his way back into this match!

 

Riley: This is gonna be a long night for Danny Williams if he has to battle back through sheer force of will power in just the first minute of action.

 

Grabbing Duran by his head, Williams slings him back in the ring where he can inflict further punishment without the fear of a count out. Staying in hot pursuit, Williams climbs up on to the ring apron, but by this time, Duran is already up and moving in. Not to worry, Williams ducks his head under the second rope, thrusting his shoulder into the Notorious One’s mid section. Reaching back over the ropes, Danny grabs Duran by his hair, and from the ring apron, runs him into the turnbuckle of the nearest corner!

 

Blam!

 

Duran staggers away, prompting Williams to risk scaling the turnbuckles so that he may swoop down on him with a high flying attack. Hustling his way to the top rope, Williams prepares to take flight when Duran comes rushing over! Unable to defend himself, Williams is totally helpless when Duran busts out a series of right and lefts to his abdomen. Scooping Danny off the top rope, Duran throws him over his head, launching him across the ring!

 

Ka-Boom!

 

Williams takes a nasty bump as he crash lands on his back with a thud! Stalking his prey, Duran comes up behind Williams with his arms stretched out to their full wingspan. Duran strikes, wrapping his arms around Danny’s head as he climbs to his feet, trapping him in the dreaded Sleeperhold! Escaping in the blink of an eye, Williams drops to the mat, flipping Duran off his back with a swank arm drag! Rolling to his feet, Duran blasts Danny with a huge shoulder block as he tries to hustle to his feet!

 

Blam!

 

Now, Duran seizes his opportunity to lock on the hold! Sitting Williams up, Duran clamps his huge arms around his head, successfully locking on the Sleeper! Moving with a sense of urgency, Danny fights his way to his feet, and throws himself into the ropes.

 

Comet: Your not gonna get a Sleeper on citizen Williams this early in the match.

 

Riley: Well to be fair he did get it on him, he just couldn’t stop him from reaching the ropes. I think it’s silly that you can’t use the ropes to add pressure to a move, but you sure as hell can use them to escape one.

 

Knowing that he isn’t gonna get a Sleeper on Williams while he’s clinging to the ropes, Duran spins him around, and slams a few knees into his sternum. Taking his deflated opponent by the wrist, Duran pushes him into the ropes, and sends him for the ride. Bouncing off the ropes, Williams comes speeding back at into the waiting hands of the Notorious One!

 

Boom!

 

Duran squashes Williams with a thunderous Powerslam! Hustling to his feet, Duran runs into the ropes, and gets a good bounce. Speeding back, Duran crushes Williams’ throat with a huge Leg Drop! Williams’ spasms, and Duran goes for the cover.

 

One!

 

Williams kicks out in no time, but finds himself being suffocated by another one of those pesky Sleeperholds! Wildly flailing his arms about, Williams crawls to the ropes on his hands and knees. Duran releases Williams, who in turn slides out of the ring to safety. Though he didn’t spend a great deal of time in Sleeper, a still woozy Danny Williams drapes himself over the guardrail like a towel. Showing no mercy on the human towel, Duran drops his big, heavy leg across the back of Danny’s head, driving his wind pipe into the steel barrier. Coughing and gagging, Williams sinks to the floor. Grabbing the guardrail for balance, Duran cruelly stands his boot on Danny’s throat, choking the life out of him.

 

“Boooooooooooooooooooooo!”

 

Deprived of life giving air, Williams’ face starts to change into a variety of bright colors that someone’s face normally shouldn’t be.

 

Riley: We are watching some brilliant wrestling from the Notorious One. If your opponent cannot breathe, he cannot win. The real beauty of it is it’s simplicity.

 

Comet: The object of wrestling is to pin your opponent, not try to kill them. This is just dastardly, hopefully citizen Soapdish can put a stop to this villainy before any serious damage is done.

 

Nobody’s gonna get choked in a Nick Soapdish officiated match, at least if he can help it. Sliding out of the ring, the tiny official attempts chastises Duran, ordering him to cease and desist all rule breaking. Stepping off Williams’ crushed throat, the Notorious One shrugs his shoulders in a manner similar to Steve Urkle’s adorable trademark,”Did I do that?” Entering the ring to a chorus of “boos”, John Duran runs his hands around his belt line, signaling that he will be wearing a “Title” very soon. In response to Duran’s taunt, a brief “CHAR-LEE!” chant breaks out.

 

Riley: Now that’s the type of confidence that’s gonna carry Duran right to the top.

 

Comet: Confidence is a good thing, kids, but remember too much of it will turn you into a narcissist. Narcissists are not good, they only wish to have sexual relations with themselves which will only lead to blindness and hairy hands.

 

Riley: Jesus, I may be gay, but at least I’m not a nutcase. And by gay, I mean very happy. Happy that I’m not insane.

 

Struggling to replenish his lungs with precious oxygen, Williams crawls up on to the ring apron, and pokes his head through the ropes. Going head first into any situation is never a good idea, and this is no exception. Like a razor guillotine, Duran brings his big leg down across the back of Danny’s neck! Clutching his throat, Williams rolls under the bottom rope this time, but this proves to be even more hazardous. Bouncing off the second rope, the Notorious One drops a nasty knee across Williams’ wind pipe! Sensing that he’s got Danny hurt, Duran goes for the cover.

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

Despite lacking a sufficient amount of oxygen to breath with, Williams still kicks out with no trouble. Dragging Danny up, Duran stuffs him down into a front facelock, and drops back!

 

Crunch!

 

Williams goes head first into the canvas, bouncing over on his back!

 

Comet: DDT!

 

Riley: Nobody does a DDT better than John Duran.

 

Comet: I think many would dispute that, citizen Bobby. What about Xero, the master of the DDT?

 

Riley: And where is he now, Comet? He’s practicing that so called “picture perfect” DDT on hobos and crack whores at a homeless shelter near you.

 

Knowing that this won’t be enough to put Williams away, Duran doesn’t go for the cover, instead he goes back to the Sleeper! Already lacking oxygen, Williams twists, spasms, and jerks, essentially doing everything he can think of to fight out of the hold. Stretching out his legs, Williams finds the bottom rope with his boots. However, Duran snap mares him back into the center of the ring where he hastily reapplies the hold. The sight of seeing Williams right back in the same hell that he fought so valiantly to escape, moves the fans. It moves them so much, that they start to chant.

 

“Let’s go Danny, let’s go!” clap! clap! clap!clap!clap!

 

With his tongue swinging and his lips puffing, Danny Williams starts inching his way back towards the ropes.

 

Comet: How? How? How can Danny Williams fight out of the Sleeper, despite having his wind pipe worked over like it was. What mysterious power drives him to these super human feats that usually only super humans like myself are capable of?

 

Riley: Some draw their power from the glowing yellow sphere in the sky, others prefer magical pills.......or some times injections.

 

The closer Williams gets, the louder the fans get. Williams is now inches from the ropes, all he has to do is reach out and grab them. But Duran wisely pulls him back to the hellmouth that is center of the ring, crushing the spirit of not only Danny Williams, but the fans. Duran twists Williams’ head from side to side, squeezing the remaining drops of life from his head. Danny gradually grows limp in Duran’s hands, sinking to the canvas in a lifeless pool of humanity. Since Williams appears to be a corpse, the Notorious One breaks the Sleeper, and goes for the pin.

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

.................

 

 

 

 

 

Williams wearily kicks out, reviving the fans! Duran can’t believe it, this guy was a corpse a second ago, and now he can kick out of a pin!? Frustrated, Duran goes right for Williams’ throat, tearing at his wind pipe with a clear as day chokehold!

 

“Duran Sucks! Duran Sucks! Duran Sucks!”, chants the outraged fans.

 

As his brain is deprived of air, Williams disturbingly seizures like he’s being electrocuted. Soapdish orders a break, but Duran hangs on, forcing the official to start the count down to disqualification.

 

Comet: There is no excuse for disgusting behavior like this, Duran may be the number one contender, but he certainly isn’t like one.

 

Riley: On the contrary super hero man, I think this shows that John Duran has got the eye of the tiger. After all, tiger’s always go for the jugular.

 

After three short second that probably felt like an eternity to Williams, Duran releases the choke hold. Getting all up in the Notorious One’s face, Soapdish goes off on a huge tirade, making it perfectly clear that he won’t tolerate anymore rule breaking. Meanwhile, Danny Williams takes this opportunity to roll to the outside, creating as much distance between himself and his aggressive opponent. Realizing that Williams is getting a break, Duran shoves the scrawny official out of his way, and rolls to the outside.

 

Riley: Can you believe this crap? Soapdish is distracting Duran in what will no doubt be a vain attempt to save Danny Williams’ ass.

 

Comet: I don’t think that’s the case at all, he’s merely trying to restore order to this match.

 

Riley: Since when does order have a place in wrestling?

 

Crawling on his hand and knees, Williams massages his throat, trying to get it working again. Stomping his way over to Danny, Duran helps him to his feet. Measuring the still woozy Williams, Duran rocks him with a big right hand! The punch nearly knocks the wobbly Williams off his feet, but in an unexpected twist he miraculously returns fire with a desperation elbow!

 

Crack!

 

Duran staggers, and the hopeful cheer! However, Duran takes the wind out of Danny’s sails with a knee to the sternum! Grabbing Danny by his hair and tights, the Notortious runs him head first into the steel steps!

 

Clang!

 

Out of it, Williams sits up, and leans against the steps. Considering who Williams’ opponent is, this isn’t the best place to be in. Stampeding forward like a raging bull, Duran slams a gruesome knee into Williams’ face, knocking the back of his head into the steel! The fans gasp in horror, almost disbelieving what they just saw and heard. Taking a few steps back, Duran admires his work like an egotistical artist. Like what he sees, Duran extends a finger to the heavens, and screams,”One more!”

 

Comet: Duran is a sadist, there’s no point in this!

 

Riley: Sure there’s a point, the point is to inflict pain and suffering.....oh, I guess he is a sadist.

 

Creating enough distance between himself and Williams to land an airplane, Duran sprints forward like he’s running the twenty yard dash! Now bleeding profusely from the forehead, Williams resembles Arnold from the end of Predator, you know where he’s all like, “Kill me, I’m here, Kill me!” Picking up some killer speed, Duran slams his knee into Williams’ forehead at full force!

 

BLAM!

 

Blank faced, Williams just kind of lays down on his side, his eyes as wide as U.F.O’s.

 

Comet: OH MY!

 

Riley: You know to be honest I didn’t think Duran was going to hit that, but hey, sometimes life surprises you like that.

 

Grabbing Williams by his hair, Duran props him back up against the steps. Once again, Duran steps back and screams, “one more!”

 

 

Comet: But he said that last time!

 

Riley: Unfortunately for Williams, he lied.

 

Bolting forward, Duran picks up even more speed than last time! Approaching his target at warp speed, Duran drops down for the knee...

 

WHAM!

 

only to go mouth first into Williams’ extended boot! Grabbing his mouth, Duran spins around, and flops face down on the floor.

 

Comet: Duran got to cocky, and made the mistake of going to well one too many times with that running knee smash!

 

Riley: I think he’ll be right, Williams is still clearly in much worse shape than Duran.

 

The crowd is going crazy, glad that Duran finally got what was coming to him. Shaking his head from side to side, Duran sluggishly sides into the ring, and rests on his back. However, Soapdish has done started counting Williams out, creating a sense of panic amongst the fans who suspect that their hero may not be able to get up in time. Leaking blood at an alarming late, Williams stays seated, prompting the fans to start an encouraging, “DAN-E!” chant. For every second that slips away, the chant gets faster and louder. Meanwhile, Soapdish continues to count..

 

“Seven! Eight!...”

 

With two seconds remaining, Williams pulls himself up with the ring apron. Just as Soapdish is about to reach the magic number, Danny crawls inside the ring where he is welcomed with a big ovation from the relieved fans. Snatching Williams up, Duran drags him away from the ropes, and helps him to his feet. Suddenly, Williams swipes the Notorious One’s hands off!

 

Crack!

 

Williams scores with a desperation elbow, rocking Duran! Regaining his composure, Duran comes back with a big right hand that nearly sends Williams on a one way ticket to the canvas! Somehow getting his feet back under him, Williams returns fire with another elbow! Dropping back into the ropes, Duran explodes forward, blasting Williams with a running forearm!

 

CRACK!

 

The huge blow sends Danny back paddling to the ropes, but he surprisingly comes bouncing back, leveling with Duran with a Running Elbow of his own!

 

CRAAACK!

 

Unable to keep his balance, Williams goes down as well while the re-energized fans erupt!

 

Comet: When you trade elbows with citizen Williams, your gonna end up on the losing end.

 

Riley: For a guy billed as a technical wrestler, Williams throws a helluvalot of elbows.

 

Comet: In this league, elbows are technical wrestling.

 

Slapping himself around, Danny wakes himself up enough to make a move. Wiping his bloody bangs out of his eyes, Williams helps Duran to his feet so that he may drive him into the ropes with a series of bruising elbows! Williams attempts to whip Duran off the ropes, but the heavy number one contender holds his ground, and reverses! But instead of bouncing off the ropes like Duran thought he would, Williams leaps up on to the second rope with jaw dropping agility! Spring boarding back, Williams drops Duran with a huge back elbow! Rolling to his feet, Danny runs into the ropes, and drops a picture perfect snapping elbow across the Notorious One’s chest! Tightly securing Duran’s legs, Williams goes for a quick cover.

 

 

One!

 

 

Duran kicks out with authority, somewhat cooling off the crowd.

 

Comet: Duran isn’t even close to being finished!

 

Riley: Come on, did you really think that one elbow drop is enough to keep John Duran down. Give the guy some credit why don’t you.

 

Hustling to his feet, Danny scoops Duran up, and slams him into a nearby corner! Leaping up on to the second turnbuckle, Williams bounces off and throws his feet out. Swinging his elbow out to side, Williams drives it down into John’s heart like a dagger! Once again, Danny grabs a leg for the pin.

 

Comet: If a normal elbow drop isn’t enough, maybe one from the second rope is enough.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

Duran kicks out with authority, but I guess it wasn’t with quite as much authority as the previous kick out. Now that he’s got Duran weak enough, Williams hashes his plot for revenge. Sitting his foe up, Williams drives the toe of his big white boot into the tender lower back of Duran!

 

Smaaack!

 

The sound of leather against flesh echoes through the arena, drawing it’s fair of flinches. Arching his back in agony, Duran rolls over on his side, but his back is still exposed. Without hesitation, Williams lashes the Notorious One’s back with another nasty Cowboy Kick!

 

Smaaack!

 

Than another!

 

Smaaack!

 

And another!

 

Smaaack!

 

Unable to withstand another lashing, Duran rolls to the safety of the floor. Jumping down after his retreating foe, Williams points to the ring steps, letting everyone in the building know what his plan is. Yanking Duran up by his arm, Williams lets out a cry effort as he fires the big guy into the steel!

 

BOOM!

 

The Notorious One hits the steps extremely hard, nearly breaking them apart. Letting out an emotional battle cry, Williams charges forward, crushing Duran’s face with a devastating knee smash! Sliding back into the ring, Danny celebrates this act of vengeance by pumping his fist into the air. Going nuts, the fans loudly scream..

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E DAN-E!”

 

over and over again. A crimson fluid begins to slowly run down the Notorious One’s face as he gradually sinks down to the floor in a haze.

 

Comet: Maybe now that villain knows what his victims endured.

 

Riley: How dare you try to imply that Duran deserves that sort of treatment, he’s a number one contender for King’s sake! This man is gonna be our future Champion!

 

Comet: Well that remains to be seen.

 

Riley: Oh we’ll see alright.

 

Crawling around on the floor like he’s gathering pieces of his own head, Duran wearily rolls back into the ring, where Danny Williams waits with an evil grin. Dripping blood all over the place, Duran tries to get on his feet, but Danny Williams grabs him by his hair before he can do anything. Holding the Notorious One’s head down, Williams viciously drives a what seems like a couple hundred knees into the side of his head, covering his knee pad with blood gore. Clutching his face, Duran crumbles to the mat in anguish, but Williams isn’t done yet. Standing his boot on Duran’s throat, Danny cruelly cuts off his oxygen supply.

 

Riley: This is an outrage, Williams should be automatically d.q.ed!

 

Comet: You didn’t have a problem with Duran doing to it citizen Williams earlier.

 

Riley: Duran was outside the ring when he did it, making it perfectly acceptable.

 

After some threats from Soapdish, Williams releases Duran, and appears to be calm. But once Soapdish gets out of the way, Danny snaps again. This time, Williams begins explicitly choking Duran with both of his hands, squeezing the life out of him. Soapdish tries to pry Danny off, but it’s no avail, the crazy bastard has a death grip. Despite Williams sudden disregard for ethics, the fans continue to cheer him on if only because Duran had did the same thing to him earlier.

 

Riley: I guess you approve of this?

 

Comet: Actually, I don’t.

 

Riley: Well, I do.

 

Seeking an escape through any means available, Duran rakes the cut on Williams’ forehead! Screaming in pain, Williams rolls off Duran, and buries his face in his hands. After some unpleasant dry heaving, Duran pulls himself up with the ropes. Steaming mad, a recovered Williams angrily marches over to the Notorious One! Steadying Duran with one hand, Williams starts go elbow crazy, but the Notorious One ends the assault by raking his hands across Danny’s face yet again!

 

“Boooooooooooooooooooo!”

 

Shielding his face, Williams aimlessly stumbles backwards, giving Duran an opening for one of his trademark moves. Ducking his head down, Duran rockets into Williams, slamming him into the turnbuckles with a bone shattering spear! Grabbing a front facelock, Duran sweeps out his legs for the DDT!

 

Thump!

 

 

Grabbing the ropes, Williams stays on his feet, letting Duran hit the canvas all by himself. With Duran laid out in front of him, Williams jumps up on the second rope, and dives down on him!

 

Splat!

 

Duran rolls out of the way, avoiding the elbow drop! Barely able to hold his eyes open from blood loss, Duran wobbles over to Williams in a trance like state, and jumps up for the Leg Drop...

 

Plop!

 

but nobodies home! Stumbling to his feet, an equally bloody Williams steps behind Duran, and ...

 

Pow!

 

slams his boots into the back of his cranium with a picture perfect Dropkick! After finally seeing somebody connect with something, the fans break out into a standing ovation! Resting on his stomach for a second, Williams crawls to his feet, and runs into the ropes. Rubbing his sore head, Duran stumbles to his feet in time to see Danny speeding towards him! Williams swings out his forearm for the Running Elbow, but Duran ducks under the strike, and catches him around the throat! Using Williams’ momentum against him, Duran lifts him into the air, and slams him down!

 

Comet: CHOKESLAM!!!

 

Riley: It’s over, Comet, Williams stupidly ran into his own his demise!

 

Duran swiftly blankets Williams, covering him up for the pin. Fearing that Williams is finished, the fans nervously count along.

 

 

“One!”

 

 

 

 

 

“Two!”

 

 

 

 

 

....................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Williams weakly kicks out, sending the fans into jubilation.

 

Comet: If he can follow up on this quick enough, he can still put Danny away!

 

Determined to put Danny away, Duran quickly yanks him up into a Gutwrench and hoists him into the air. Flipping Williams in front of him like a wind mill, Duran recklessly slams him down with a ring shaking Powerbomb!

 

Comet: DOCTOR BOMB!

 

Riley: If that isn’t quick enough, I don’t know what is!

 

Williams hits the mat so hard that he bounces off it like a ping pong ball! The lift takes a lot out of the bloodless Duran, who uncontrollably stumbles around after hitting the move. Still, he knows what he has to do to win, and the fans can only watch on in worry as Duran goes for the cover.

 

“One!”

 

 

 

 

 

“Two!”

 

 

 

 

 

................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THR-Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!”, screams the delighted fans as Williams shoots his shoulder off the mat! Though his face is a mess of hair and blood, you can tell that Duran is pissed. Slamming his fist into the mat, Duran jerks Williams up, and clamps his huge arm around his throat, forcing him back into position for another Chokeslam! Resisting, Williams squats as low to the mat as possible making it extremely difficult for Duran to get him up! A struggle ensues, the temperature of the crowd heat raises considerably.

 

Comet: Duran doesn’t have the element of surprise on his side this time.

 

Riley: When your as big and strong as John Duran, you don’t need no stinking element of surprise to hit the Chokeslam.

 

Ending the stalemate, Williams wildly fires off a series of back elbows to Duran’s temple, knocking him silly! Free from the huge hand of Duran, Williams elegantly spins in place, knocking his block with the dreaded Rolling Elbow!

 

CRAAACK!

 

Both men go down, and the fans are ready to riot to with glee! By now the entire ring side looks like the sight of a massacre, it is literally painted in bright red hemoglobin. Pushing himself off the mat, a blood soaked Williams roars with triumph and pain, struggling to fend off the effects of Duran’s big slams. In a similar fashion to a roided up ball player ready to hit a home run, Williams stands poised and ready for Duran. Rising out of their chairs, the thousands attendance work themselves into a frenzy. Seeing birdies, the Notorious One wobbles to his feet when Danny Williams comes spinning at him!

 

Comet: ROLLING ELBOW!

 

Not letting Williams score with his most deadly strike twice in one night, Duran ducks under his arm, and grabs him by throat!

 

Riley: NO, CHOKESLAM!

 

The Notorious One tears Danny off the canvas, lifting him off his feet! But to the astonishment of the fans, Williams acrobatically twists around in mid air, hooking Duran up with a body scissors! Rolling forward, Williams cradles Duran’s leg with an impressive out of nowhere Victory Roll!

 

Riley: HE’S GONNA GET BY WITH ANOTHER FLUKE!

 

Duran tries to kick his way free, but Williams hangs on to him! Excited beyond words, the fans scream along with the count.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

NO! Duran escapes the roll up right in the nick of the time, disappointing the thousands of howling fans!

 

Riley: Ha, Duran isn’t gonna fall prey to some cheap roll up like that no good hack Charlie Matthews!

 

Hustling to his feet, Duran tucks in his head and charges at Williams for the Spear! Seeing the big guy coming from a mile away, Danny slides to the mat, tripping him up with a drop toe hold! Bewildered, Duran tries to crawl to his feet but Danny suavely steps over one of his arms, capturing it. Rolling over, Williams ties Duran up like a pretzel, pinning his shoulders to the mat!

 

Comet: THE LA MAGISTERIAL CRADLE!

 

As if he’s riding an invisible unicycle, Duran rapidly pumps his feet into the air but no matter how much he struggles, he can’t escape Williams’ clutches! The arena transforms into a madhouse as Soapdish stops, drops, and starts the count!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

.....................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEE!”

 

 

 

 

Duran escapes the complex cradle, but it’s too late as Soapdish is already calling for the bell!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Believing the count was fast, the Notorious One decks the official with a huge right hand! Not even getting his opponent to celebrate his hard fought victory, Duran ambushes Williams with a ball bursting low blow!

 

Comet: This is inexcusable!

 

Riley: Nonsense, this what happens when you screw over Duran with a fast count!

 

Scooping Danny up on to his shoulders, Duran stalls, making sure everyone in the building can get a good look at their defeated hero. Flipping Williams out behind him, Duran drops backwards, breaking his neck with the lethal BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!

 

Riley: Danny may have won the battle, but I’d say Duran just won the war! Mark my words, this guy is gonna be our next World Champion!

 

Comet: Heaven have mercy on us all.

 

Standing a foot on top of Williams’ bloody carcass like a proud conqueror, an equally bloody Duran makes the belt sign one more time, reminding everyone of who the next Champion is gonna be. Disgusted the fans throw everything that isn’t nailed down at Duran, which is actually just crumbled up pieces of paper and empty beer cups. Duran just smiles, oblivious to the fact that he’s probably gonna die if he doesn’t get an immediate blood transfusion.

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

The crowd is absolute gangbusters as we return from break, with the graphic for SWF Lockdown on our screen, proudly displaying tonight’s main event – Terrence “Janus” Bailey and Aecas vs. Tom Flesher and Ann Onita vs. Mike Van Siclen and Todd Cortez, for the SWF’s Tag Team Championships. We can hear Bobby Riley’s voice in the background, welcoming us back from break.

 

“Fans, this is Lockdown, and this has been an absolutely spectacular show so far,” our play-by-play man squeals. “We’ve seen the newest member of the SWF in action; we’ve seen the USJL title defended; and right now, we’re about to see a triple-threat tag contest for the Tag Team belts!”

 

“Right-o, Bobbarooski,” his broadcast partner, Cyclone Comet says, giddier than usual. “This is the first defence for the Trinity team, and boy, is it a dooze! Defending against The Number Ones and Van Siclen and Cortez should prove to be an interesting battle, but I think the Trins are up for it!”

 

“Well, you may think so, and you’re probably wrong,” Bobby Riley says, “but I’m pretty much used to that. It sounds like they’re ready in the ring, let’s send it to Funyon for the introductions!”

 

We fade in on a shot of the ring, where Funyon stands, microphone in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for tonight’s MAIN EVENT! The following contest is a triple-threat tag bout, scheduled for ONE fall, for the S – W – F WOOOOOOORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS!”

 

BOOOOOOOM!

 

Gold pyro goes off atop the entrance ramp as "Popular" by Nada Surf kicks up, and Mike Van Siclen steps onto the stage, nodding cockily at the people in the crowd, who respond with a decent amount of boos. He is followed by the much more serious, low-key “Urban Legend” Todd Cortez, standing at the top of the ramp, crossing his arms in front of him like an X in the universal symbol for straight-edge.

 

“Introducing first, the challengers! Weighing in at a combined weight of four-hundred and fifty-seven pounds, “Urban Legend” Todd Cortez, and Mike Van Siclen!”

 

The two slap hands before walking down the ramp, Van Siclen jawing with fans on either side of the ring as Cortez grabs his cross, holding it and pointing to the sky. Cortez slides into the ring, as Van Siclen walks up the steps, and the two enter the squared circle, Van Siclen posing for the benefit of the booing crowd while Cortez goes to the corner, stretching before the match starts.

 

“This team may be considered to be the weakest in the current tag division,” Riley notes, “but that’s merely because they have yet to have a match together.”

 

“And what a way to make your debut!” Comet says. “Challenging for the tag titles – this is a DY-NO-MITE opportunity for Van Siclen and Cortez, Bobbo!”

 

BOOM!

 

An explosion of blue pyro as “I Am The Man” by the Philosopher Kings begins to blare, as different catchphrases play on the SmarksTron

 

SUPERIOR ONE

 

AWARD-WINNING

 

MAIN ATTRACTION

 

THE MAN

 

Tom Flesher steps out onto the top of the entrance ramp, and the fans, despite being soured on him over the past couple of weeks, still greet him with raucous cheering! Flesher crosses his arm, a cocky smirk on his face as he soaks in the cheers before breaking his pose, walking calmly down and to the end of the ramp.

 

“And their opponents! First, weighing in at two-hundred and thirty-one pounds, he hails from Buffalo, New York, they call him the Superior One… he is TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM FLEEEEEEEEEEESHER!”

 

The crowd goes even more wild, and their cheering (if possible) picks up further as "Risky Gamble" by Megumi Hayashibara plays, and the suit-clad Ann Onita appears on the SmarkTron, shown sideways with her hand extended like a gun. The viewpoint rotates until the shot is dead straight with Ann's finger. The song kicks into high gear just as she 'shoots', causing a blue pyrotechnic…

 

BOOM!

 

…explosion to occur on the entrance ramp. Annie walks out with cigar in hand, her sister Allison following behind her.

 

“While we have a moment,” Bobby interjects, “we’re spending an awful lot of money on these pyrotechnic explosions. Zenon, I know you’re watching – kill the pyro.”

 

Ann walks straight down to the ring, not letting a damn thing bother her as Allison, behind, plays a bit to the crowd, winking flirtatiously at a couple of the younger people. Flesher waits for them at the bottom of the ramp, and as Annie arrives the two pound fists, walking up the stairs confidently. Tom wipes his feet off on the apron, stepping through the ropes, and Annie follows while Allison stays on the outside.

 

“And his partner!” Funyon calls, “weighing in at one-hundred and seventy-five pounds, she hails from Tokyo, Japan, being accompanied by Allison Onita, she is ANNNIE… “IIIIIIIT-CHI-BAN” OOOOOOOONITA!”

 

The crowd erupts, simply because lesbians are cool, and then they quiet again as Funyon prepares for the final intro.

 

“And now… the CHAMPIONS…”

 

Smoke billows out from the entrance way, lit red by the gateway lights as red lasers shine across the entrance area, creating a mesh of light...

 

“LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!”

 

”Davidian” by Machinehead starts up, as a…

 

BOOOOM!

 

…blast of pyro fires off. Red strobe lights light the passage up the ramp as Aecas and Terrence step through the laser mesh, out of the smoke, and stride down the ramp into the ring, tag belts slung over their respective shoulders. Aecas and Terrence salute the fans before they climb into the ring, Funyon making his intro.

 

“Weighing in at a combined weight of six-hundred and SEVENTY-five pounds, Aecas and Terrence ‘Janus’ Bailey, the UUUUUUUUUUN-HOOOOOOO-LYYYY TRINITY!”

 

The crowd is absolutely electric as all six men stand in the middle of the ring, cautiously eyeing each other. The corner of Cortez and Van Siclen is the first to be in order, as Van Siclen motions Cortez out of the ring, not wanting his new protégé to be exposed too early. Next to decide is the corner of Terrence and Aecas, as the more experienced Terrence waves Aecas out of the ring. And finally, Tom Flesher steps out of the ring and into his corner, nodding his head at Ann Onita in “go-get-‘em, tiger” fashion. With this established, Terrence and Aecas hand their tag belts to referee Jefferson Harding, who holds them high in the air before handing them to a ring attendant, and signaling to the timekeeper to ring the bell.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

“And this tag team contest is underway!”

 

The two men (and one woman) in the ring glance at each other, none wanting to be the first to move. Van Siclen takes a step back, and makes the "go ahead" motion to Annie, granting her permission to be the first to lock up with the monster standing in front of her. Annie circles Terrence, while the big man stays stationary, his eyes moving to keep Annie in view as she moves about him. She and Terrence lock eyes, and he inches towards her, moving his fingers and shrugging his shoulders...but Mike Van Siclen comes over and shoves her out of the way.

 

”For God’s sake," Van Siclen says, “let’s try to hurry this match along, Annie.”

 

Riley grins. "Apparently tonight's match has thrown a wrench into Mike Van Siclen's schedule."

 

“Oh, mine as well!” Comet interjects. “The sneak preview for the Punisher is tonight, and I am missing it!”

 

Van Siclen quickly goes for a lockup, but after a few seconds of trying to push the big man, Van Siclen winds up on the receiving end of a shove that sends him to the mat. He quickly rolls over and props himself up on one knee, eyeing Terrence, who again is standing firm, as if he's rooted in the canvas.

 

With Terrence momentarily distracted, Annie takes the opportunity to grab his right arm and wrench it once, twice, third times the charm. Mike Van Siclen then takes the left arm of Terrence and does the same as Annie. The two challengers attempt to keep their larger opponent at bay, but soon come to a "meeting of the minds" as Terrence swings his arms in, sending Annie and Mike Van Siclen smashing into each other. Annie stumbles about the ring, holding her forehead, while Mike wipes off his brow and kicks the bottom rope before turning back to his foes.

 

“Terrence showing off his ginormous size there!” Comet says, “and Annie and Mike don’t know what hit them!”

 

Van Siclen bolts towards Terrence, ducking under his outstretched arm and using a go-behind into a waistlock, then stepping back and kicking downward, striking Terrence in the back of the knee. Van Siclen then wraps his arm around the ankle of Terrence and pulls the leg up, and now the big guy is standing on one leg, as Van Siclen holds the leg behind Terrence. Sensing the opportunity to bring the big man down, Annie darts forward and delivers a low dropkick to the front of Terrence’ss other knee, which staggers him a bit. Annie then runs the ropes, hitting one side and then charging to the other, and channeling the momentum as she comes off with another low dropkick, this time to the back side of Terrence’ss other knee, taking his good leg out from under him and putting him down on the canvas!

 

With Terrence down, Annie again uses speed to her advantage, as she runs the ropes, bouncing off the far side, and then rebounding off the near side, with quick legdrop to the fallen giant. Mike Van Siclen is right behind her, as he follows up with a quick legdrop of his own to keep the famed tag champion down. However, as he gets up from delivering the legdrop, Annie grabs him by the arm and backs him into the ropes. After sending Mike to the other side with an Irish Whip, Annie tucks her head. Van Siclen leapfrogs over Annie, but instead of running the ropes, spins her around and hooks his right arm under her left, hiptossing her to the mat. Mike backs into the ropes again, and comes at Annie with an elbowdrop, however she quickly rolls out of the way.

 

“Big elbow from Van Siclen misses,” Riley interjects.

 

Mike staggers to his feet, but is met right away by Annie, who again takes him by the arm and backs him into the ropes. She whips him off, and Mike runs not into the opposite ropes, but into the boot of a recovered Terrence, who is now back up on his own two feet! Mike falls to his back and rolls to the side of the ring, while Terrence tries to deliver a clothesline to Annie. She ducks under it, and hammers on his back with repeated forearm shots, then jumps up on his back as he hunches over, wrapping her arms around his neck and head with a sleeperhold. Quite easily, Terrence reaches up and snapmares Annie off of him and to the canvas, but before he can follow up, Van Siclen stands behind him, throwing kicks at both legs in hopes of cutting Terrence down to size. Terrence, however, stops the onslaught with a well placed back elbow, probably pushing some of Mike's teeth in! Terrence grabs MVS by his hair and flings him into the corner, the crowd roaring as he raises one arm like a lightning rod for cheers!

 

“Oh, how I hate this move,” Riley moans. “It doesn’t even look painful!”

 

Terrence raises the arm, and brings it down on Van Siclen’s skull!

 

“ONE!”

 

Again!

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

Again!

 

“FIVE!”

 

“SIX!”

 

“SEVEN!”

 

And again – but Terrence is cut off by Annie, who is back on her feet and grabs Terrence from behind in a waistlock! Realizing that she probably isn’t going to heft the Anti-Heel Machine up, Annie GETS LOW~, hitting the mat, and wrapping one arm around Terrence’s leg, pulling him back with a rollup!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“THRE – TWO!” Terrence swings his mighty legs forward, bringing him into a sitting position on top of Onita’s arm. Annie yelps in pain, and Terrence looks to get up – but before he can Van Siclen comes out of the corner with a huge dropkick…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…right to the chin of Terrence!

 

“THAT’S a toothchipper for ya!” Riley crows.

 

Van Siclen quickly gets on top of Terrence, looking for the pin…

 

“ONE!”… but he is quickly pulled off by the hair by Ann Onita, who gets to her feet as well. Ichiban holds Van Siclen from behind by the hair, and Van Siclen, pissed, whirls around and – *SMACK* – bitchslaps her across the face!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

Annie instinctively lets go of Van Siclen’s hair, clutching the side of her face and staring daggers at Van Siclen. Mike notices the look from Annie and jogs over to his corner, tagging out to Todd Cortez. Quickly, Van Siclen steps through the ropes and to the outside, allowing Todd his first opportunity at offence in the match.

 

“Cortez looking to make his first move in the SWF here,” Riley says. “Let’s see how he does.”

 

Cortez steps through the ropes, looking at the livid Ann Onita and the still-downed Terrence, who is slowly getting to his feet in the Trinity corner. Ann looks to take out her aggression, charging the Urban Legend and looking to lariat him down, but Todd ducks the maneuver with relative ease! Onita dashes right past Cortez and into the ropes, and as she comes back the Urban Legend flashes his leg up…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…and, without turning around, delivers a vicious hook kick to the face of Ichiban!

 

“BOOOOM, YAKUZA KICK!” Riley cries.

 

“The quickness! The speed!” Comet thinks to himself for a moment. “Poor non-heterosexual!”

 

Annie goes sprawling to the canvas, the crowd roaring for the stiff move, and Cortez looks around for a moment before going for the cover.

 

”OOOOOONE!”

 

“This match could be over right here,” Riley says.

 

 

“TWOOOOO!”

 

“THREE – NO!” The count is broken up by Aecas, running into the ring and dropping a double axe-handle across the back of the Urban Legend. Cortez gets to his feet, shaking off the fistdrop from Aecas like nobody’s business as referee Harding gets in Aecas’ face, forcing him to exit the ring. This is utterly worthless, however, because as Aecas steps to the outside and grabs the tag rope he makes the blind tag to Terrence, stepping back into the ring.

 

“Two of the three teams in this match have tagged out,” Riley notes, “and you have to assume that Onita wants to make that tag as well!”

 

Terrence rolls to the outside, hauling himself to his feet as the Black Angel eyes Cortez, wanting to make his huge presence felt. Cortez eyes Aecas as well, and he charges, looking to lock up with Aecas. Aecas is more than willing to take the bait, extending his arms to the charging Cortez – but Todd ducks underneath Aecas’ arm, going behind the Black Angel and grabbing him in a rear waistlock! Aecas is obviously surprised by this and throws a back elbow, looking to break the rear waistlock, but the seven-footer’s elbow goes flying over the head of the six-feet-even Cortez!

 

Cortez grins, having Aecas right where he wants him, and spins around, grabbing Aecas in a side headlock and quickly driving him into the mat with a DDT! The crowd boos as Aecas’ head bounces off of the canvas, and the Black Angel bounces over onto his back from the impact. Quickly, Cortez climbs on top of Aecas, looking for the three.

 

“OOOOOOONE!”

 

 

“TWOOOOO – NO!” Aecas, still going mighty strong, makes the textbook kickout, and uses his powerful upper body to shove Cortez off of him. As the two men recover, Ann Onita rolls onto her stomach, finally recovering from the Yakuza Kick. She looks over to her corner, beginning to inch in that direction… within ten feet… five feet… but Cortez, by now, is on his feet, and he grabs her by the heel, pulling her back to the center of the ring. He grabs her by the hair, lifting Ichiban to her feet, and the two stand close together in the middle of the ring…

 

VOOMVOOMVOOM GOOOOOORE!

 

Aecas comes from the corner, heading full-speed and taking out both Cortez and Onita with a HUGE gore!

 

“GORE! SPEAR! GORE! GORE! BUSH! AL! GORE!” cries Comet.

 

“… oh, shut up,” Riley mutters, obviously none-too-pleased.

 

The Urban Legend and Annie both go sprawling, seemingly done for the match, and Aecas gets to his feet, breathing a bit heavier than usual but otherwise A-OK. He looks down at his two victims, and gets down, pinning the closest one to him – Todd Cortez.

 

“OOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

 

”TWOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEE – NO!” Cortez gets the muscular shoulder up at two, and Aecas, frustrated, crawls over to Ann Onita, who has taken enough punishment so far in this match to render most women dead.

 

“OOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

 

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEE…”

 

“NO!” The count is broken up by Mike Van Siclen, coming off the top rope to deliver a flying double stomp to the back of Aecas! Terrence, pissed in his corner, looks to get into the ring, but referee Harding goes to the Trinity corner to attempt to calm him down. Meanwhile, Van Siclen heads back to his corner, only to be confronted by a very pissed-off Black Angel! Aecas looks to grab Van Siclen over the ropes, but the wiley vet grabs Aecas around the neck, jumping off the apron and snapping Aecas’ neck against the top rope!

 

The blow sends Aecas reeling in-ring, and a slightly dazed Cortez is right there to greet the reeling Aecas with a stiff forearm shot to the face! Aecas stumbles back to the corner, and Van Siclen climbs back up to the apron, grabbing Aecas by the arms and pulling them back to expose the Black Angel’s chest.

 

“M – V – S SUCKS!” *clap clap clapclapclap* “M – V – S SUCKS!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

Van Siclen snarls back, “And you suck too, you stupid sons of bitches!”

 

“M – V – S SUCKS!”

 

From the Trinity corner, Terrence angrily gestures at the blatant cheating by Van Siclen, but referee Harding apparently takes it the wrong way, continuing to try and restrain the Anti-Heel Machine.

 

From the corner of Tom and Annie, “The Superior One” Tom Flesher continues to look on in bored amusement.

 

Annie Onita continues to lay half-lifeless in the middle of the ring, needing desperately to make the tag.

 

And in the corner of Van Siclen and Cortez, Van Siclen, still holding Aecas back, yells at Cortez to “HIT HIM, DAMMIT!” Cortez stands off to the side, as Aecas is propped in the corner by his partner, and unleashes quick roundhouse kicks to the ribs and chest of Aecas. With the big man stunned, Cortez turns back to Onita and picks her up, whipping her into the corner so that her small frame crashes into Aecas, knocking the few precious breaths he's managed to gain right back out of him.

 

Annie slumps against the massive frame of her opponent, and Cortez charges the corner, leaping up and sending Onita airborne, then crashing to the mat after monkey flipping her out of the corner! Showing his cat-like agility, Cortez rolls through the manuever, back to his feet, and charges Aecas, but the big man barges out of the corner and decapitates the rookie with a stiff lariat that spins Cortez around in mid-air!

 

"My God, if he spun through the air anymore, he'd have tornado chasers after him!" quips Comet.

 

Van Siclen cringes at Todd's predicament, while Flesher seems to be holding onto the tag rope moreso that he doesn't fall off the apron rather than await a tag from Onita. Aecas scoops up Cortez, and has him hunched over in front of him. Scissoring Todd's head between his legs, Aecas reaches down and lifts the newbie upwards, holding him so that's he's in a seated position on his shoulders. Shaking the cobwebs loose, Todd starts peppering the temple of the seven foot fan favorite with rights and lefts, until eventually Aecas gives in and drops Cortez.

 

Landing on his feet, Cortez slams a forearm into Aecas' chest, but doesn't budge the current co-holder of the tag belts. Hitting the ropes for momentum, Todd comes back with another forearm, but Aecas only steps back slightly. Cortez hits the ropes again, this time surprising Aecas by sliding down through his legs, but as he begins to stand up, Cortez's legs are taken out from under him. Annie has them hooked one under each arm, and pulls Cortez up and over, slamming him to the mat with a wheelbarrow suplex!

 

“Wheelbarrow suplex from Ichiban!” cries Comet. “I haven’t seen a move like that since the Amazing Racer in issue eight!”

 

“Nice to know one of us can still bring some coherence,” Riley mutters.

 

As Annie gets up, she doesn't see the large arms of Aecas reaching out for her, and she winds up caught in a rear waistlock. Driven by instinct, Ann fires back elbows to the jaw of Aecas, stunning him enough so that he backs off of her. With Aecas' back turned as he checks his dental work, making sure all teeth are still intact, Annie grabs him by the head, wrapping her arm around it, and running towards the corner. She leaps up, kicking her legs off of the top turnbuckle, and twists in midair, attempting a bulldog on Aecas...but she's tossed off Aecas...AND MANAGES TO CATCH A RECOVERED CORTEZ WITH A RANA~!

 

"Simply amazing! Aecas got rid of Annie, but she used that momentum to catch Cortez off guard!" exclaims a stunned Bobby Riley.

 

"I've never seen anything like it, but I'd definitely want to see it again!" remarks Comet.

 

The crowd gives Annie her props, but they're about the only ones who do, as Van Siclen slaps the turnbuckle out of frustration, and calls out to his partner. Tom Flesher continues to do his best impression of a mannequin on the apron, as he's shown no real signs of interest yet tonight. Last but not least, Terrence watches on, then returns to action, as Aecas tags out and brings his larger partner back into the match!

 

Todd Cortez staggers to his feet, and Terrence plows forward, knocking the man from "The Streets" down with a big boot to the face! Annie Onita comes running, but Terrence simply runs into her with his massive frame, knocking her down. Annie does an oversell of the fall, flipping back over to her feet and then pulling herself up via the ropes, then takes the low road and slides out of the ring under the bottom rope! Terrence leans over the ropes to protest, but from behind Cortez and Mike Van Siclen, who is able to enter the ring while the referee is busy counting Annie, delivering a double dropick to the back of the big man and sending him tumbling over the ropes as well!

 

“Van Siclen and Cortez send Terrence to the outside!” Riley crows. “The new pairing is gelling very nicely so far tonight!”

 

Terrence, through some stroke of luck, manages to catch himself on the apron, saving himself from a spill on the floor, but winds up on the business end of a baseball slide courtesy of Cortez, forcing the big man to grab onto the ropes to avoid falling once more! Aecas, being a fair player, can do nothing but watch as the off-balance Terrence begins lift himself to his feet, only to fall victim to a stiff kick to the knee from Cortez that sends the giant to his knees! Van Siclen, watching the altercation steps out of the ring and grabs the tag rope, allowing Cortez to make a quick tag back to Mike Van Siclen. Cortez, wanting to get in one last blow on Terrence, bounces off the ropes and runs towards the far side, only to be wiped out with a springboard crossbody, courtesy of one Ann Onita!

 

Annie, having not seen the tag made between Cortez and MVS, hooks Todd's leg for the pin. It's all for naught, as referee Harding will not (obviously) count the fall, but Van Siclen drops a leg across the back of Annie's head, knocking her senseless! Noticing Terrence getting back up on the apron, Mike darts to the corner, jumping off the middle rope and dropkicking Terrence back to ringside, the big man nailing his head on the edge of the ring apron as he falls! Annie stands up, holding her neck and looking at the canvas, allowing Mike to pull her backwards, holding her in an inverted facelock.

 

"Russian Roulette, bitches!"

 

“You SUCK, Van Siclen!”

 

The catcalls of the fan don’t deter Van Siclen, however, as he looks for his signature move...but wait! Annie spins her body out of the inverted facelock, so that she's facing Van Siclen, and lifts him over her shoulder with a Northern Lights Suplex! She makes the bridge, and Jefferson Harding dives to the canvas to make the count...

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!"

 

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

...just two!, as Van Siclen escapes, pulling himself and Annie back to their feet. With his arms still wrapped around Ann, he locks her in a standing headscissors, then lifts her up and plants her hard on the mat with a snap powerbomb! Van Siclen looks to cover, and drapes his body across Annie's...

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!"

 

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"THREEEEEEEEEE...NO!"

 

Terrence, still on the outside grabs the leg of Van Siclen, pulling him off of Annie and towards the ropes. Van Siclen, pissed at this development, lashes back with a hard kick at Terrence’s arm, and the big man lets go of the leg. Mike quickly gets to his face, charging at Terrence and looking to… well, it doesn’t matter what he looks to do, as Terrence ducks between the top and middle ropes and plants a firm shoulder into Van Siclen’s sternum! Mike doubles over, setting himself up for a sunset flip…

 

“Good God, we might see Citizen Terrence pull out a Sunset Flip on Van Siclen!” Comet cries.

 

“Give me a break,” Riley replies sarcastically, “that fat loser couldn’t even flip Ann Onita over.”

 

Terrence, however, has bigger things on his mind, and he grabs Van Siclen around the waist. Grinning sadistically, Terrence hefts Van Siclen waaaaay up into the air…

 

BOOOOM!

 

…and powerbombs him right back down onto the mat! The crowd goes absolutely wild as Terrence wipes the dirt off his shoulder, stepping over the top rope with ease and confidently dropping to one knee, draping his body over that of Van Siclen’s…

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“THR – NO!”

 

The count is broken up by Ann Onita, who catches Terrence with a stiff boot to the face! The crowd boos slightly but cheers heavily, the lesbian-loving part of the crowd easily winning this battle for adoration. Onita grabs Terrence’s long white hair and lifts him up to his knees, a position where Terrence is comfortable (OH~) and the two are roughly the same height. Annie then goes to the ropes, hitting them hard and coming back at Terrence, who is already back on his feet. As Annie approaches, she tries to slam on the brakes, but she’s too late! – Terrence grabs her around the midsection and hefts her high into the air, a good five feet off the ground. He holds her there for a second, teasing the slightly-booing crowd in the least humorous of ways.

 

“If this weren’t Terrence, this would be a sickening display!” Comet roars. “But it is, and I’m enjoying it a tiny bit!”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Riley says. “Go figure, we agree on something.”

 

Terrence continues to hold Annie there, before falling forward, slamming her back-first to the mat with a GIANT spinebuster! The impact is tremendous, nearly shaking the ring, and Terrence bridges through for what should be the academic three-count…

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

”THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

 

 

“NO!”

 

Van Siclen comes out of nowhere, dropping a single knee into the neck of Terrence! The big man winces, grabbing his neck in pain as Van Siclen grabs him by the hair, lifting the Anti-Heel Machine to his feet. Van Siclen grabs the champion by the arm, whipping Terrence hard into the Van Siclen/Cortez corner. With a fair bit of intensity, Van Siclen charges the corner, springboard off of the second rope and whirling around, catching Terrence with a hook kick to the side of the face! Terrence’s head snaps to the side as Van Siclen lands in front of him.

 

Van Siclen grins at Terrence, reaching way back with his right hand and leveling a huge bitchslap across the side of the giant’s face!

 

*SMACK!* “OOOOOOH!”

 

Terrence’s head snaps over to the side again, but this time he’s significantly more pissed, and he slowly rights his head, staring daggers at Van Siclen – who recognizes this, and quickly tags out to Todd Cortez!

 

“And Van Siclen is wisely going to defer to Cortez here,” Riley says.

 

“What a wussy fruit loop! Kill him dead, Janus!”

 

Van Siclen steps out of the ring quickly, and the Urban Legend enters – but Janus is still focused on Van Siclen, and swings for Van Siclen’s skull! Mike barely ducks the blow, and referee Harding gets between Janus and Van Siclen, pushing Janus back. Janus is livid, and taking up all of Harding’s attention. Ann Onita is still struggling to get to her feet, in desperate need of a tag, and Cortez grabs her by the hair, whipping her hard into the ropes and catching her on the way back with a slick hiptoss!

 

“You know,” Riley interjects, “that was a perfect opportunity to gain an unfair advantage. Cortez obviously has some things that still need to be learned from Van Siclen.”

 

Cortez quickly gets to his feet once more, grabbing Annie by the hair and lifting her to her feet. Flesher looks on, not saying much of anything, as Cortez whips Ichiban hard into the ropes, bending over and looking to catch her on the way back with a back body drop… but he’s met with a stiff kick to the jaw! Cortez stands up to his full height, grabbing his jaw in pain, and Annie steps forward, catching him with a hard slap across the face!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

Cortez backs up even further, and Annie backs up, into the ropes, bouncing off of them and charging at Cortez, GETTING HIGH~ and hitting Cortez with a dropkick right to the mouth!

 

“DROPKISS FROM ONITA!” Comet roars. “ANN ONITA IS ON THE COMEBACK TRAIL!”

 

The crowd is fired up by this last bit of offence, and they show their approval with a loud cheer!

 

“IT – CHI – BAN! IT – CHI – BAN!”

 

This chanting draws the ire of Janus away from Van Siclen, and he turns away from his much smaller rival and to an even smaller rival. He sets his sights on Onita, who stares at him with a gutsy, ‘bring-it-on’ look in her eyes, and bring it Janus does, charging at Annie and looking for the huge GORE…

 

…but Annie leapfrogs it, sending Janus sprawling into his own corner! Aecas, thinking quickly, taps Janus on the top of the head and steps into the ring, making the blind tag. Aecas stares at Annie for a few moments, Onita staring back with a pained, ‘not-you-too’ look replacing the ‘bring-it-on’ from earlier. Aecas, too, charges Annie, looking for the huge lariat… but Annie ducks, and Aecas goes charging into the ropes! Aecas hits them hard, coming flying back at Annie, who uses all of her remaining strength to leap high in the air…

 

…seven feet high in the air…

 

…and catch Aecas with a huge dropkick to the teeth!

 

“DROPKISS ON AECAS!” Comet cries once more. “Annie just got more air than Jordan!”

 

Aecas topples over, reeling from the huge dropkick, and Annie hits the mat, rolling over onto her stomach and crawling towards the Superior One, looking to – finally! – tag out. She’s five feet away, Flesher paying little to no attention, not caring if she reaches him or not… she’s three feet away… two feet, close enough to reach out with her arm and brush it across his shin, and she reaches out, trying to…

 

…but Flesher looks down at the feminine arm as though it’s a mosquito, hopping off the apron to get away from it! The crowd begins booing, realizing what’s going on as Annie looks up, staring at Tom with a pained, helpless expression on her face, and Flesher merely stares back, not saying anything as he turns around, walking up the ramp.

 

“Tom Flesher is leaving Annie Onita out here to fend for herself!” Bobby Riley says. “It’s the return of MY Tom Flesher! Yes!”

 

Onita looks on in pain as Mike Van Siclen steps into the ring, chaos having broken out and him having yet to step into the middle of it. He walks over towards Annie, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her to her feet, but she plants both hands into his chest, shoving him back into the ropes! Van Siclen hits them hard, coming back at Annie and looking for a huge lariat…

 

*SNAP!*

 

“SUPERKICK ON VAN SICLEN!”

 

“IT – CHI – BAN! IT – CHI – BAN!”

 

Mike takes the kick full-on into the jaw and hits the mat, rolling in pain out of the ring. Onita drops to one knee, but gets back to her full height, staring at the carnage around her… Cortez and Aecas on the mat inside the ring… Janus, barely on his feet in his corner… Van Siclen, writhing in pain on the outside…

 

Tom Flesher, gone. With this thought hardening in her mind and making her angrier than ever, Annie grabs Cortez, purpose in her eyes as she lifts him to her feet. With Todd on spaghetti legs, Annie unleashes a flurry of chops that leave red welts across the olive skin of the SWF newcomer, then quickly wraps her arms around his waist and lifts him up, dropping him down across her knee with an inverted atomic drop! Onita quickly stands to the side of the "Urban Legend", placing her right leg between Todd's legs, wrapping one arm around his neck, and then reaching around and locking her hands, trying for a Downward Spiral, but Cortez kicks his right leg out, sweeping Annie's feet out from under her and driving her to the canvas with an STO~! Cortez rolls onto his back, then does a half-hearted kip up, as the wear and tear is apparent. Aecas pops up and sees Todd has his focus elsewhere, and rears his right arm back, then charges with a vicious lariat...that Cortez ducks! In one fell swoop, Cortez ducks the manuever, spins his body so that his chest presses against Aecas' back, wraps both arms around his waist and lfits, dropping Aecas over his right shoulder and onto the back of his head with a sick looking Backdrop Driver~!

 

Janus begins to rally for his partner, as he stomps the apron and pounds the turnbuckles, watching his fallen opponent become the victim of a pinfall attempt by Todd Cortez!

 

 

"ONE"

 

 

 

"TWO"

 

 

 

"THREE...NO, NO AND NO!" Aecas rolls his right shoulder up just before the final slap of the mat, keeping this match going! Todd Cortez, wondering what it's going to take to get one in the win column his first match in, pulls the weakened Tag Champion up by the hair, then sends him into the ropes...no, counter by Aecas! Cortez bounces off the ropes, and Aecas charges with a running boot, but Cortez baseball slides under the raised leg, and Aecas winds up crotching himself across the top rope! Cortez quickly grabs the left leg of Aecas and dumps the big guy off of the rope and down to the ringside floor! Janus looks to step in, but he's quickly pulled off the apron by Mike Van Siclen, who has snuck over to the corner of the champions. Taking Terrence by the head, he posts the big man, ramming his forehead right into the steel turnbuckle post, then cracks him in the chin with a superkick that puts Bailey on his back! Todd Cortez looks on from inside the ring, but finds himself shoved chest first against the ropes, and then rolled up by Ann Onita...but Cortez rolls his body through, and grabs Annie by her legs, powering up to his feet with her on his shoulders! Van Siclen slides into the ring, and Cortez tosses Annie forward, off of his shoulders, as Mike reaches up and catches her head, dropping it across his own shoulder!

 

"Van Siclen promised that someone would go to That Special Place tonight, and Annie Onita was the unlucky recipient of that trip!" remarks Bobby Riley, who can't believe what he's just seen. "We could have new Tag Team Champions right here, Comet!"

 

Cortez crawls onto Annie's broken form, while Van Siclen darts out of the ring...

 

"ONE"

 

...sliding under the ropes and to the floor, grabbing a recovering Aecas and swinging him around with a neckbreaker to prevent him from breaking up the fall...

 

"TWO"

 

"THREE"

 

"I don't believe it!" shouts Riley.

 

"I do, because I just saw it! What were you watching?" remarks a sarcastic Comet.

 

Funyon grabs the microphone, as Mike Van Siclen enters the ring clutching both SWF Tag Team Championship belts, and shoves one into the arms of his exhausted partner.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winners...and NEEEEEEEEEW WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...THE TEAM OF THE URBAN LEGEND, TODD CORTEZ, and MIKE...VAN...SICLEN!

 

The crowd groans and jeers, as the ever cocky Van Siclen has just added the SWF Tag Titles to his rapidly growing resume. Some seem impressed though with the storybook tale of Todd Cortez, despite his alignment, winning a championship in his debut contest.

 

"It's the stuff dreams are made of, but teaming with Van Siclen seems like a nightmare to me." says Bobby Riley, drifting between pleasant shock and utter contempt for the new champions.

 

"The champions weren't pinned though! It was Annie who was pinned, and that was after Tom Flesher left her high and dry!" reasons Cyclone Comet.

 

"The champions knew what they were getting into when they signed for this match. All I can wonder is what are we in for now, as we have this enigma, Todd Cortez, and that sly sonuvabitch Van Siclen representing this company? I think things are going to get very interesting very quickly!"

[5_moves_of_doom 0]

Woo! Good show. Promos abound. Read the opening one, because it is so, so awesome. Also, that whacky Bonus Match is full of surprises as well. Card won't be up for a bit, but you've got plenty of reading to keep you busy, so go at it!