SWF Smarkdown - May 10th

[the.weej 0]

It’s a beautiful night in Indo, California. The stars are out, the moon is full, and it’s only a moderately warm 98 degrees. Dripping with sweat as well as anticipation for tonight’s show, the thousands of Californians in attendance are gradually working themselves up into frenzy. Suddenly, the fans explode into a gargantuan pop as the familiar melody of the “Jester’s Dance” comes bouncing out of the loud speakers. Countless people mass around the ringside barriers, eager to get a closer look at the new World Champion. Cameras are poised and ready, waiting to catch a glimpse of this seemingly inhuman athlete who can power bomb monsters twice his size, perform jaw dropping acrobatics like an Olympic gymnast, and survive massive hemorrhaging.

 

Emerging from the shadows of the locker room, the short, wide figure of Danny Williams steps out on to the platform. As if the man before them is some sort of ancient powerful god, the masses praise his name with a ceaseless chant. However he’s not exactly the mythical superhuman warrior that the entrance alluded him to be. His walk isn’t strong and heroic, it’s more like a hobble, the stagger of a man who’s near his last step. Perhaps the biggest sign of his mortality is the huge bandage awkwardly strapped to his forehead, giving him an almost goofy appearance. This is no god, this is no super hero, but a man of flesh and blood, who’s spilled an awful lot of the latter.

 

Wearing the gold proudly around his waist, Williams slides into the ring, finding himself overwhelmed by the noise of the fans. He may not exactly be an overnight sensation, but it’s still surprising to be greeted by such a thunderous ovation. Not very sure of what to do, Danny generically poses on the second turnbuckle, which appears to satisfy the desires of the shouting mob. Obviously very nervous, Danny clumsily accepts the microphone. The World Champion doesn’t look very comfortable holding the mic, since god knows it’s something he doesn’t do very often. The fans cries are deafening, preventing Williams from starting the promo, which might be for the best considering he looks like he has no idea what he should say.

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!.....”

 

Eventually taking the hint, the fans calm down, and lend Danny their ears. Clearing his throat, Williams slightly trembles as he struggles to spit out his opening line.

 

“Last week, a few more liters were added to the countless gallons of blood that have been spilled for the richest prize in the wrestling best federation in the world today!”

 

The fans respectively applaud in agreement, and a brief “S-W-F!” chant breaks out. Williams takes a deep breath, no doubt relieved by the positive response.

 

“I know a lot of you probably don’t want to hear this but John Duran kicked my ass from pillar to post, and I think we owe him a round of applause!”

 

Stuffing the mic under his arm pit, Danny leads the hesitant fans to a fairly decent applause. Knowing that he’s not gonna get much more out of the fans, Williams wisely moves on.

 

“If anything, last week showed me that despite winning the title, I still have a long way to go if I want to be recognized as the best. Winning the title was the easy part, hanging on to it is going to be the real challenge.” Williams continues,” Right now there are a ton of guys who have a claim to this title, and if I want to be “the Man” I’m gonna have to face and defeat everyone of them. Which brings up to tonight’s main event between Kibagami and Toxxic.”

 

The mention of the match that the fan’s came to see gets a rather loud pop.

 

“I’m not a stranger to either of these men, both have stepped in the ring with me before. Some say Kib’s best days are behind him, but believe me, he was and still is one of the most dangerous men in the history of the SWF. “

 

The hot fans momentarily go into an energetic “KIB-A-GAMI!” chant, but they respectively warp it up rather quickly, giving Danny the chance to speak again.

 

“I also haven’t forgotten how Toxxic spoiled my home coming last month.”

 

Instantaneously turning hostile, the fans lower their thumbs and boo. Williams just nods and smiles.

 

“While testing myself against Kibagami would be grand, I must admit that it wouldn’t be nearly as fun as getting Toxxic all to myself. Either way, both men are gonna be in for the fight of their life if they try to take my title from me!”

 

Feeling more confident, Williams sucks in the cheers of the fans, continuing the promo in a more commanding tone.

 

“I can’t promise you anything! I can’t say for certain that I will be a great Champion or just another one week wander again! I’m not Grand Slam, I’m not the Thugg, I’m not Macphisto, I’m not Magnifico, nor am I Chris Wilson or the Suicide King! I am Danny Williams!”

 

Williams delivery isn’t as cheesy as it reads, the desperation in his voice connects with the fans, resulting in a deafening pop.

 

“I may not have crossover appeal, I may not be the best speaker, but what I can do is promise to each and everyone of you that I will give it my all every single night I’m in this ring! No matter how much blood I lose, no matter how much head trauma suffer, I will defend this belt as long as I’m able!”

 

Williams may not be Patton, but you wouldn’t think that to hear the legions of screaming maniacs lining the aisles. Getting caught up in the moment, Danny throws down the mic, and jumps up on the top rope, raising his fists high into the heavens! The fans epically chant the new champion’s name, letting Danny know that as long as he gives it his all, they’ll do the same as well.

[the.weej 0]

Card:

 

OPENING MATCH

Stryke vs. Todd Cortez

-- Todd's first singles match, I believe. Let's see what he can do!

Rules: Standardosity.

 

TABLES MATCH OF HARDKORE FOR OLD TIME'S SAKE

Crow vs. Dace Night vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

-- Ahh... sweet, sweet history. And very hardcore history at that. These three have spilled eachother's blood many a time, but tonight they'll spill eachother's blood... uh, through tables!

Rules: Standard Table Match Rules... Elimination. You can't put yourself through a table. Any non-table weapons are allowed. And encouraged.

 

#1 CONTENDERSHIP FOR THE CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE PART 1

Insane Luchadore vs. Austin Sly

-- Johnny Dangerous is the Cruiserweight Champ, and he needs some competition. These four cruiserweights (from this match and the one below) are all nice and potential-esque, if only they could get that extra push and show a little bit of consistancy. So... two Contendership matches, and the winner of each will go on to a three-way battle with JOOOOHNNNNY DANGEROUS!! Sound exciting. If this is noshowed (especially without an excuse,) you will be in trouble.

Rules: Standard

 

#1 CONTENDERSHIP FOR THE CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE PART 2

Jacob Helmsley vs. Alan Clark

-- See above.

Rules: Standard.

 

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Mike Van Siclen vs. Aecas

-- Both have been doing well lately, and Aecas has a shot at MVS's title. Should be a good match.

Rules: Hardcore. Duh.

 

UNITED STATES/JUNIOR LEAGUE TITLE MATCH

Landon Maddix vs. "Wild" Coy West

-- Two very impressive athletes indeed. Landon won a shot at Coy on Lockdown, and he's cashing in rather quickly. FIGHT!

Rules: Standard

 

REDEMPTION STEEL CAGE SUBMISSION MATCH

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs. John Duran

-- Duran Duran suffered a MISERABLE AND EMBARRASSING loss to Danny Williams on Lockdown, losing his World Title in the first place. Beating possibly the most talented man in the fed could be his chance to jump back on the high horse. Duran won't be getting an immediate rematch against the World Champion, so says Lord Zed (and Rita Repulsa,) but a win over Tom here would be mighty impressive and get him that much closer to regaining his gold! Oh, and as a bonus feature, it's a steel cage submission match! Since Tom is the master of submission and all, this makes the challenge even GREATER for Duran!

Rules: 20-foot steel cage surrounds ring... no escape. No rules... first man to tap out or pass out is the loser. I know the big stip may seem a bit too big for a non-title match or whatever, but hey... look at the two men fighting here. The winning match, if done right, could potentially be a classic.

 

#1 CONTENDERSHIP AT THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Nathan Kibagami vs. Toxxic

-- These two really, really don't like eachother, and Toxxic recently asked Nathan for a rematch from their previous encounter a few shows back. Could this one possibly be as explosive as the last? With a shot at the World Title on the line... I'd say it could.

Rules: Standard. Again.

Edited May 11, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

“Ready to kick things off, Bobbo?” questions the eager Cyclone Comet, who’s ready to get right to the action tonight.

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s pass it over to Funyon with the introductions for our first matchup!”

 

The camera cuts from the announcers over to the ring, where Funyon stands proud in the center.

 

FUNYON

LAAAAADIEEEEES AND GENNNNNTLLLLLEMENNNN…THIS…IS YOUR OPENING CONTEST HEEEEERE ON SMAAAARKDOOOOOOWN, AND IT IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL!

 

Funyon stops, and the crowd whispers amongst themselves, until blue and silver pyro shower the stage area! “How Could I Just Kill A Man?” vibrates through the PA system, as Stryke makes his way down the aisle, brushing off the boo’s and taunts that the fans greet him with. He hops up on the apron, and then climbs to the second turnbuckle, taunting the crowd as Funyon continues with the intro’s.

 

FUNYON

FROM SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA…HE WEIGHS IN AT TWOOOO HUNDRED AND NINE-TEEEEEEN POUNDS…HE IS STRYYYYYYKE!

 

More boos follow the intro, as Stryke leaps into the ring, and leans back into the ropes, cranking his neck and waiting on the introduction of his opponent.

 

The sound of Spanish horns comes through the speakers, but they soon fade and are replaced with heavy bass and a loud guitar riff, as Todd Cortez bursts through the curtain to the sound of the Tres Delinquentes Rock Remix. Walk to the end of the stage, just before he hits the aisleway, Todd makes the “X” symbol with his arms, looking out to each side of the crowd and watches as the fans greet him with a mixed reaction.

 

FUNYON

HIS OPPONENT, HAILING FROM THE STREETS…WEIGHING IN AT TWOOO HUNDRED AND TWENTEEEEE SIX POUNDS…THE URBANNNN LEGENNNNND, TODDDDD CORTEZZZZZZZ!

 

Cortez powerwalks down the aisle, ready to make Stryke his first singles defeat. As typical for Todd, he grabs the cross that hangs on the gold chain fastened around his neck and kisses it, then points to the sky and looks up…and catches a baseball slide from Stryke!

 

“What the…that’s just not right!” proclaims Bobby Riley.

 

“Man oh man, Bobbo, I don’t think Todd Cortez is going to like being disrespected in that fashion!” adds Comet.

 

Stryke quickly pulls Cortez up to his knees, and starts peppering him across the forehead with some rapid fire punches. Referee Brian Hebner slides out of the ring and orders Stryke back into it, as the bell hasn’t even rung to get this match underway officially! Stryke throws Hebner’s hands off of him, but has no choice but to back away and get into the ring, as the official stands between he and his opponent.

 

Stryke waits on Cortez, as Hebner orders for the bell. Cortez shakes the cobwebs loose and gets to his feet, then bursts into the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope! Stryke sees it coming and immediately starts stomping on Cortez, then picks him up and sends him towards the ropes with an Irish Whip. Cortez bounces off the ropes, and Stryke wildly throws his arm at him with a lariat, but Cortez ducks under it, gaining momentum as he bounces off the opposite side, and comes off flying, taking Stryke off his feet with a spinning wheel kick! Cortez paces himself, waiting on Stryke but waving his hands in “come on” fashion, then approaches him as he gets to his feet. Cortez unleashes a stiff open hand chop, cracking Stryke across his pectoral area and causing the Australian to cringe in pain! The smack of flesh can be heard again, as Cortez cracks him with another chop, the impact of which causes Stryke to squint his eyes and grit his teeth. Cortez grabs Stryke’s right arm, and attempts to propel him into the far corner, but Stryke maintains his balance, not allowing himself to be pulled in. He reverses the move, sending Cortez into the corner just behind him. Todd’s back slams against the turnbuckle pads, and Stryke turns around and follows up with a charge, but winds up catching a foot to the jaw, deflecting him from doing any further damage. Cortez quickly props up on the second rope, and as Stryke turns back to him, leaps from the turnbuckle onto the shoulders of his foe, and takes him over to the mat with a huracanrana~! Stryke is dazed, but gets up rather quickly, so Cortez charges him, hoping to keep the advantage in his favor. Stryke sees it coming however, and bursts forward, springing up from the mat and right at Cortez, flattening him with a clothesline! Angered by the quick advantage Cortez had gained just moments ago, Styke picks him up and delivers a well placed kick to the stomach, then hooks Cortez in a front facelock before quickly carrying him over with a snap suplex! Stryke gets up quickly and runs towards the ropes, coming off and dropping a quick legdrop across Cortez’s throat while he’s still down. He follows up by going for a cover, making sure to pull Cortez’s leg up for extra leverage in keeping him down, but Hebner barely makes it to two before Cortez gets a shoulder up!

 

“You’re going to have to do a lot more to Todd Cortez to keep him down for the three count.” comments Comet.

 

“I think it’s the fact that Stryke knows he angered Cortez by interrupting his prematch routine, and is trying to get out of there as soon as possible.” reasons Riley.

 

Stryke pulls Cortez up, and mimics what Todd did to him earlier, cracking him across the chest with a stiff chop! Seeing that the wifebeater that Todd wears is added protection to a move of that caliber, he grips the shirt and tears at it, the remnants left hanging over Todd’s pants. Stryke then unleashes another chop, and the sounds carries through the air, up to the nosebleed seats, as the fans in attendance follow up the chop with the traditional “WHOO~!” taunt that they are known for. Stryke unleashes a third chop, and Cortez takes it, but fights through the pain and unleashes one of his own! Stryke staggers back a step, but comes back at Cortez with ANOTHER of his own, and we’ve got a duel in center ring!

 

Even the crowd starts to cringe, as the continuous smack’s of each man’s flesh is uneasy to bear witness too. Neither man appears to let up, until Cortez fakes Stryke in, blocking a chop by putting both arms in close to his chest to block, and then he UNLOADS on Stryke, hitting chop after chop after chop until Stryke’s chest looks to be a mass of blistering skin. Backed into the corner, Cortez climbs up onto the second turnbuckle, standing above his foe, and then brings his fist down onto his temple, as the crowd counts along!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TEN!

 

Cortez jumps down from the ropes, and backs up a bit, keeping an eye on his dazed opponent. He charges in and jumps up, planting both feet in the chest of Stryke, looking for a monkey flip, but Stryke still has enough sense to push Cortez off, and the Urban Legend falls back to the canvas, jarring his spine. Stryke comes barging out of the corner and jumps up, coming down onto Cortez with an elbow drop, but Todd rolls out of the way at the last second, and Stryke hits nothing but canvas! Cortez gets up, and waits on Stryke as he staggers to his feet, then catches him off guard with a sweep kick, taking his legs out from under him! Cortez immediately follows up by backflipping over, landing across the upper body of Stryke with a standing moonsault! He hooks the leg…but Stryke kicks out at the two count!

 

Cortez pulls Stryke up, rocking him with a pair of right hands, but Stryke pulls Cortez in towards him and lifts his knee, driving it into the gut of the Urban Legend. He tugs on Todd’s arm, and whips him into the ropes. Stryke turns so that his back is to Cortez as he rebounds, and catches him under his right arm as if he were to use a backbreaker. Before he can follow through, however, Cortez swings his body up, wrapping his legs around the head of Stryke and taking him over with a headsciss…NO! Stryke pushes Cortez off of him, and Cortez hits the mat facefirst!

 

“Stryke pancaked him on that one, and now Cortez’s head is scrambled!” states Comet.

 

“Are you talking about the match or reading a breakfast menu?” asks Bobby Riley of his co-commentator.

 

Cortez puts his palm to his lip, checking for blood coming from his mouth, and is relieved to find none. He stands up, but as he does, he backs right into a rear waistlock, as Stryke continues to stay right on him. Cortez fires an elbow back, then another, but Stryke tucks his head, still holding the waist, and lifts Cortez, drilling him into the mat with a back suplex! Stryke sits up, a grin growing from cheek to cheek as he looks back at his downed opponent. He gets to his feet and stands over Cortez, kicking him lightly to taunt him, before reaching down for his rival. As he goes to pull him up, Cortez quickly tucks Stryke’s head underneath his arm, and scissors his right leg with both of his own, cradling him with a small package out of nowhere!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR…NO! Kickout by Stryke!

 

Stryke is the quicker of the two in getting up, and keeps an eye on Cortez as he’s getting up. When he sees his opportunity present itself, he springs forward with a superkick aimed right at Todd’s chin…but Cortez is able to catch the foot before it cracks his jaw! Cortez quickly lets go of the leg, throwing it back down, but then reaches out and grabs Stryke by the throat, the setup for the Urban Assault!

 

 

Cortez has a grip, but Stryke quickly elbows him in the side of the head to deter him from hitting his match ending maneuver. Cortez reels from the elbow shot, and Stryke moves right behind him, and as Cortez lifts his head, he finds it in Stryke’s vice grip, as the Australian has locked on a sleeperhold!

 

 

Cortez paces around, trying to get away from Stryke, but Stryke keeps it locked on, following Cortez’s every step. Cortez waves his arm in desperation, nearly knocking referee Hebner in the face, before finally succumbing to the effects of the sleeper, and falling to one knee!

 

“Cortez is beginning to fade, and Stryke couldn’t be happier!” proclaims Riley.

 

Cortez continues to struggle while on one knee, as Stryke wrenches his arms around Todd’s neck and head. Hebner checks in to make sure Cortez isn’t done, and while he’s faded a bit, he waves Hebner away, showing him that he’s got some fight left in him. Cortez pushes up to both feet slowly, and when he does, he leans to the side, allowing himself the positioning to hit Stryke in the bread basket with elbow shots. Cortez hits several continuous shots, not as rapid fire as they’d normally be due to his lethargicness while being stuck in the sleeperhold. Stryke absorbs each shot, though cringing every time to show they are having some effect. Finally, on about the fifth shot, he releases the hold, but recovers before Cortez can follow up, and runs up behind him, locking the sleeper on again! Seeing as how Cortez is much closer to the ropes this time, Stryke walks backwards, dragging Cortez with him, but then falls forward, bringing Cortez down with him and smashing the back of his head into the canvas with a sleeperhold drop!

 

Todd Cortez is down, and Stryke scrambles to his feet, then heads for the corner. He steps out onto the apron and ascends the turnbuckles, all the while keeping an eye on Cortez, making sure he doesn’t surprisingly pop up from where he lay, given his resiliency. Stryke stands atop the turnbuckles, measuring his opponent one last time before leaping off, soaring through the air with a guillotine legdrop…

 

…that MISSES~! Todd Cortez, in perhaps the only way he could react, rolls to the side, causing Stryke to crash land on the canvas, the resulting impact sending shivers up his spine! Stryke groans in pain, as he stay in a seated position on the canvas, his face a twisted grimace of pain. Cortez, who had rolled onto his stomach, pushes himself up to his feet, taking in all the fresh air he can in quick gasps. Stryke, still hurting, starts to get to his feet just a split second or two after Todd, and suddenly gets jarred by Cortez, who leaps up and cracks him across the back of the head with an enzugiri, causing Stryke to stumble forward and spill out of the ring, as he falls through the ropes!

 

Stryke lays on the ringside floor, as referee Hebner walk near the ropes and starts the regulation ten count. Cortez gets to his feet, hunched over, and collects his thoughts, as both men have gone balls to the wall since even before the opening bell. He walks near the ropes, and watches Stryke regain his composure, finally getting to his feet around the count of four. Cortez, seeing this, grips the top rope with both hands and looks to launch himself over with a pescado, but Stryke turns away at the last second! However, it was a fakeout, as Cortez simply jumped out onto the apron, and when Stryke turns back around, he catches a boot right in the face from Cortez. Stryke turns away, checking to make sure all his teeth are intact, but when he turns back around he sees Cortez jump off the apron, coming down onto his shoulders and snapping him back to the floor with a picturesque huracanrana! The crowd pops loudly for the daredevil move, as even though Cortez may not make the best choices in partners, he’s slowly winning the crowd’s respect by being a man who can back up his boasts in the ring.

 

“Well Bobbo, we’re back where it all started, out at the ringside area. Five bucks says this one ends in a double DQ.”

 

“You can’t gamble on your own sport, Comet. They’ll Pete Rose your ass!” responds Riley.

 

Stryke sits up, then gets assisted by Cortez as he comes over and brings him up the hardway, yanking him right to his feet. As Cortez turns him around, he catches a thumb right to the eye, turning the tide back into Stryke’s favor rather quickly! Seeing his opponent temporarily blinded, Stryke shoves Funyon aside, and picks up his chair, folding it up and raising it over his head, aiming for Cortez! Before the steel instrument can hit Cortez, referee Hebner risks life and limb by sliding to the outside in the way of the chairshot, and reminds Stryke that if he does that, he’ll be disqualified. Stryke, seemingly not caring, finally has the chair swiped from him, as Hebner takes it and throws it down, then barks orders in Stryke’s face that he’s to play by the rules or go home. Stryke backs off, faking fear, and allows Hebner the rooms to slide back into the ring. As Hebner crawls in under the bottom rope, his back to both men, everyone but him sees the chair swung through the air, as Todd Cortez takes full advantage of the situation and waylays Stryke with it!

 

Some boo, some cheer, but the result remains the same. Todd Cortez stands above Stryke, who is out cold due to the chairshot. Cortez picks him up and rolls him back in the ring, as Hebner eyes him, knowing in the back of his mind something had to have just happened. Cortez slides in right behind Stryke’s carcass, and crawls on top of him, hooking the leg for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

THRE….NO!

 

Cortez frowns in disgust, as the Sydney native shows his fighting spirit by getting his shoulder up at the last possible instant. He gets to his feet, approaching Hebner about the count, but Hebner stands by his call of “two”. Cortez turns back to Stryke, and pulls him up, however Stryke is dead weight at this point, and falls back to the mat. Cortez reaches down for him again, but when he does, Stryke throws his arm in between Todd’s legs, stunning him with a low blow before collapsing back to the canvas!

 

“You play with fire, and you get burned!” proclaims Riley.

 

“Still the master of the cliché, eh Bobbo?”

 

Both men are stunned, each by an illegal move. Hebner warns Stryke of the foul, but then backs off, as both men are still feeling the effects of their respective cheapshots. Stryke crawls towards the corner, and uses that to bring himself to his feet, as Cortez struggles with his own pain. When he gets to his feet, he sees Stryke in the corner, and as he heads for him, Stryke comes charging out with a running lariat, but Cortez ducks under it. Todd quickly turns around, and pulls Stryke’s head back in an inverted facelock, looking for the Street Dreams…NO! Stryke twists his way around, so that it’s more of a headlock he’s being held in, and shoves Todd backwards into the corner, then charges right in after him and shoulderblocks him right in the gut! Stryke grips the middle rope on each side of the corner and then relentlessly continues to hammer his shoulder into Todd’s ribcage, knocking every last breath out of him! Stryke pulls Cortez out of the corner, holding him in a facelock and lifting him, then setting him up on the top rope. Stryke follows him up the turnbuckles, standing so that his back is to the ring, and locks on a facelock again, looking for a superplex! He pulls, but Cortez grips the top rope with all his might, using that leverage to keep his positioning. Stryke attempts again, but still cannot get him, his strength having taken a hit due to the high impact nature of this content. Cortez hammers at Stryke’s ribs, hoping it will give him an opening to turn the tide in his favor. Stryke fights back, clubbing Cortez across the shoulder blades and then trying for a superplex again, but instead winds up on the receiving end of a move, as Cortez shoves him off the top rope and to the canvas! Stryke hits back first, and rolls through on impact, charging the corner just as Cortez is starting to stand himself, and knocks the ropes, crotching him! Cortez comes down hard, and the momentum takes him forward, as he does a somersault off the turnbuckle, landing in a seated position on the canvas! Stryke backs up, seeing his rival down and out in the corner, and then runs forward, drilling Cortez right in the face with a dropkick that SWF fans know as the Facelift!

 

“I hope they have good dental coverage on “The Streets”!” exclaims Bobby Riley.

 

Cortez slumps further, and Stryke drags him out of the corner, away from the ropes so that he can make the cover. Stryke counts along with Hebner, as his hands hit the mat once, twice, three…NO! NO! TODD CORTEZ KICKS OUT!

 

Again, a pop follows the kickout, as Todd’s determination tonight has seemingly won some of the fans over. Stryke is insistent that that was three, but Hebner tells him otherwise. Stryke stops bothering with the ref, and brings Cortez up, draping him across his shoulders and picking him up. Stryke looks out to the crowd, scowling at the people he so loathes, and spins Cortez off of his shoulders, out in front of him so that he comes down across…NO! COUNTER IN MID-MOVE! CORTEZ COUNTERS THE FACEBUSTER WITH A DDT OUT OF NOWHERE!

 

That actually gets a larger pop than you’d expect, as Cortez countered one of Stryke’s trademarks. Both men are down, and Hebner stands over them, giving them each until the count of ten to get to their feet in order for this match to not be ruled a draw.

 

At four, Cortez starts to slowly crawl, but that’s about the extent of his motion.

 

 

Stryke rolls over onto his back, while Cortez braces himself, pressing his hands on the mat and trying to push himself up.

 

Cortez pushes himself to his feet, staggering backwards and nearly falling back down, but is up long enough to end the count.

 

“Cortez is up!”

 

“I can see that, Comet.”

 

Seeing Stryke still downed, Cortez dives onto him, figuring that the both the shock and impact of the DDT will score him the win.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE…NO! STRYKE KICKS OUT!

 

Amazingly, Stryke still has some fight left in him as well, as he kicks out. Cortez appears stunned, but pulls Stryke to his feet. He stands Stryke in front of him, and again grabs his throat, looking for Urban Assault, but Stryke reaches down, pulling Cortez up by the waist, and hitting him with an inverted atomic drop! Stryke stumbles back, but with Cortez reeling, he makes his way behind him, reaching around with one arm and pulling Cortez’s right arm through his legs, pulling him up onto his shoulder for the Pumphandle Piledriv…NO! Cortez slips out, and quickly pulls Stryke’s head back…STREET DREAMS~! STREET DREAMS~! Cortez hooks the left arm and falls back, locking his legs around Stryke’s waist and giving the Aussie nowhere to go!

 

“Think Stryke will get out of this one?” asks Comet.

 

He squirms and struggles, but Cortez has the submission applied tightly. Stryke does his best, but is not anywhere near the ropes or in any position where a break can be called. Cortez pulls back even harder on the arm, adding more strain and pressure to the shoulder area. Hebner kneels down, asking Stryke if he gives, and after a few moments of stubbornness, he slams his right hand on the canvas several times, tapping out to the Street Dreams!

 

“First match of the night, and first singles victory for the hot newcomer! That was one hell of a way to kick things off, Comet!” states Bobby.

 

Though the bell has sounded, Cortez keeps the hold applied on Stryke, despite Hebner’s orders to release it. The bell sounds a second time, and Cortez releases, shoving Stryke off of him and standing to have his hand raised. The “Tres Deliquentes Rock Remix” booms through the speakers as he ducks out of the ring, walking to the back without looking back. Some fans applaud, some show disdain, but the result is the same…Todd Cortez earned his first solo victory at the expense of Stryke.

[the.weej 0]

WE WANT TABLES! BANG BANG! WE WANT TABLES! BANG BANG!

 

The chant echoes through the night air from the Indio Polo Field in California as members of the SWF ring crew drag out stacks of tables to the ringside area. The sold out crowd is glad of the outdoor setting and the night air to hold off the usual baking Californian temperatures. “WHERE’S THE CAGE?” signs can be seen dotted here and there, along with the now massive sea of “STOP PUSHING TOXXIC” banners.

 

Comet: Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown Citizens. I’m CYCLONE COMET! This is Bobby Riley, he’s not getting a word in here. We’re back and ready for a match with history. A Triple Threat Elimination Tables Match. I hope the citizens in the front rows are wearing rain maks for all the blood that’s about to be spilt.

 

Riley: Oh great Comet, now you’re stealing all my thunder as well. Still, at least tonight I’ll get to see Landon Maddix capture the USJL Title. Flesher and Duran are going to have a simply awesome match… not that anyone here will like it. And of course, in the main even, Toxxic is going to beat the crap out of Kibagami to earn himself a shot at the World Title.

 

Comet: Well, you can hope Robert, but you wont know for sure until the night is over. The only thing that is sure if the great action we’re going to see tonight.

 

Riley: You mean other than this match. It’s not like there’s going to be any great wrestling here at all. Spike’s just Spike, Crow isn’t on form and Dace hasn’t been wearing his working boots for months now. Let’s get with over with before I fall asleep.

 

Funyon climbs though the ring ropes into the ring, followed by Referee Hardcastle. With his signature house mic in hand, Funyon looks up into the night air and around the sea of fans in the crowd before starting his announcement.

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest will be an elimination triple threat tables match! Where your opponent must be eliminated by being driven though a table!

 

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

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

 

FUCKING!

 

Funyon: NIGHT!

 

Yyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Hero rips into life with the blasts of pyro from along the entrance ramp, lighting up the night sky. Making his way down the ramp, Dace grins as he passes the stacks of tables at ring side before sliding under the bottom rope into the ring. Circling around the ring, Dace throws his arms up to the cheering fans and exchanges a nod with Hardcastle. Leaning back in a corner, Dace looks out to the ringside area and down the entrance ramp.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, from Hollywood California, weighing in and two hundred and twenty five pounds … “HOLLYWOOD” SPIKE JENKINS!

 

Yyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Not Today kicks into life over the darkened arena. As two showers of sparks and pyro stream forth form either side of the ramp, Spike slowly makes his way down through the cloud. Throwing back the hood of his robe, Spike looks at the tables as he climbs the ring apron, waving his arms to the fans. Slinging his robe out into the crow, Spike stares nervously at Dace, edging around the ring.

 

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

 

HHHHHHHEEEEEEAAAAAAAARRRRR ME NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!

 

Imperium rips into life as a huge wall of flames flare up from the sides of the ramp, making it look like the middle of the day. Making his way out as the flames subside, zippo in one hand, cigarette in the other is Crow. Climbing on top of a table at the bottom of the ramp, Crow spreads his arms out to the roaring fans. Finishing the last drags of his cigarette, Crow stubs it out on the table before flicking it to the floor. Hopping down from the table, Crow climbs the ring apron and sets between the ropes into the ring, looking at his opponents.

 

WE WANT TABLES! BANG BANG! WE WANT TABLES! BANG BANG!

 

Comet: Citizens Night, Crow and Jenkins are all here. It looks like the fun is about to get started. Both Crow and Spike have a hardcore history with Dace Night… and that’s all sure to come into play in this match up.

 

Riley: I will laugh so very, very hard if Spike Jenkins eliminates Dace in this match up. I really will.

 

DING, DING, DING!

 

Rrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

 

Hardcastle signals for the opening bell and dives backwards as Dace, Spike and Crow advance on each other. The three men smile at each other, before Dace and Crow turn and look at each other. Hollywood starts to look uneasily, starting to move but it’s too late as a pair of black boots burry themselves into his midsection. Before Hollywood even knows what’s going on, Crow and Dace lean back and blast him in the chest with a Double Knife Edge Chop that echoes around and makes the crowd flinch.

 

SMACK! Wwwwwwwoooooooooooooooooooo!

 

Grabbing a stunned Spike by the arm, Horrorcore launches him off into the ropes like a bullet. The Antichrist Superstar bounds forwards a few steps after Jenkins. As Spike comes changing back, the Aussie Goth drops to the mat, tripping Jenkins down with a Drop Toe Hold. Right onto the Hardcore Goth’s extended knee, Spike slumps there, pain throbbing from his face. Crow hauls Spike back to his feet like a fallen doll and hooks his leg. Dace takes a few steps up him and blasts Spike with a skull jarring Lariat as Crow snaps backwards with a Side Russian Leg Sweep. Hollywood hits the mat in a ball like he’s just taken an ice hockey tackle and stays there.

 

FUCK HIM UP DACE! FUCK FUCK! FUCK HIM UP CROW! FUCK FUCK!

 

Comet: Citizen Jenkins is just getting decimated by Dace and Crow at the start of this match! If this teaming lasts, things could start to look even worse for Citizen Jenkins.

 

Riley: Hey, don’t I recognise that Russian Leg Sweep and Clothesline combo from somewhere else?

 

Making his way to the corner, Crow climbs the nearest turnbuckles to the top rope as Night scoops up the struggling Spike. Clamping on a Front Facelock, Night easily lifts Spike up for a Vertical Suplex, holding him there for several seconds. Leaping from the top rope, Crow flies through the air and crashes into Spike with a Cross Body as Dace falls back to the mat. The impact from the Suplex and Cross Body pins Hollywood into the mat, sending all the air rushing from his lungs.

 

Comet: Citizen Crow with a Cross Body from the top rope that makes a sandwich between Spike Jenkins and the mat.

 

Riley: I’ve seen that double team somewhere else before as well. See, I told you this match wasn’t going to be great wrestling. Just wait until Dace and Crow go after the weapons!

 

Rolling back to his feet, the Antichrist Superstar looks at the Hardcore Goth and cuts his hand through the air before dropping into a fighting stance. Nodding in return, Dace throws his arms up. Snapping up his left arm, Night tries to block a huge Roundhouse Kick from Crow, but it’s a faint. Night can’t move fast enough to get his right arm up and block a Roundhouse Kick that knocks him backwards and almost knocks him down. Rushing forwards to capitalise on the Das Wunder Kick, the Aussie Goth leaps into the air and drives both his feet into Dace’s chest with a Dropkick, knocking him down to the mat.

 

Yyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhh!

 

On the other side of the ring, Hollywood Spike Jenkins slowly rolls himself under the bottom rope and out onto the floor. Grabbing hold of the ring apron, Spike steadies himself before turning his attention to the tables around the ring. Back in the ring, Crow hauls Dace back to his feet and unloads a few quick right hands into his face. The Antichrist Superstar drills one into Horrorcore’s mid section and them loops on a Front Facelock. Grabbing a handful of Night’s tights, Crow snaps backwards, taking Dace over with a Snap Suplex. Jumping back to his feet, Crow leaps up and comes down leg first across Night’s throat.

 

Comet: Well, that team didn’t last and Citizen Crow is taking it to Dace with a series of punches and a Snap Suplex. What’s Citizen Jenkins up to while these two are battling?

 

Riley: I think he’s making the smart move of recovering and setting up those tables. Maybe not to smart then.

 

As Jenkins sets up two tables side by side on the outside of the, he takes a moment to slide another on into the ring, not noticing Crow advising across the ring towards him. Breaking into a full speed run, the Aussie Goth throws his legs out and goes skidding across the mat, his legs flying under the bottom rope with a Baseball Slide Dropkick. Crow’s feet whip past Spike, inches from his face. Jumping to make an opening, Spike drags Crow all the way out to the floor and slams him head first into the security railings. Unleashing a rain of right hands into Crow’s skill, Spike tries to knock him out on the spot.

 

All the way on the other side of the ring, Dace looks out at the action before rolling under the ropes and reaching under the ring. Grabbing out a chair and a bag, Night drops the bag in the ring before heading around the ring towards the Aussie Goth and Hollywood. Dragging Crow into a quick Facelock, Hollywood grabs his tights and takes Crow up into the air. Franticly kicking his legs, Crow shifts his weight and drops to his feet behind Jenkins, the table just inches behind him. Snapping his arms shut in a Rear Waistlock before Jenkins can react, the Antichrist Superstar tries to launch Spike backwards with a German Suplex. Spike makes a franticly escape of his own, lashing out backwards with his elbows, smashing Crow in the face. As the grip around his waist loosens up, Spike pushes forwards and leaps up, twisting around, drilling Crow in the side of the head with an Enzuigiri.

 

SMACK! Yyyyyyyaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: Even with the likes of Dace and Crow out there, the fans can still get behind Citizen Jenkins. Spike tried to put Crow through those tables with a Suplex and it almost cost him.

 

Riley: Oh god, here comes Dace with a chair. Spike and Crow are wrestling, that was a float over into a rear waistlock from the Antichrist Superstar and Dace brings a chair?

 

Scrambling onto the apron, Jenkins grabs the Antichrist Superstar by his hair and drags him up onto the apron as well. Spinning around to look out at the tables, Hollywood hooks one arm around Crow’s head and goes to sweep out his leg. A desperate hail of elbows from Crow into the side of Spike’s head shakes off certain defeat. Booting Spike in the gut, the Aussie Goth clamps on a Facelock and dives backwards, drilling Spike head first into the apron with a DDT. Clutching at his head as he slowly rolls under the ropes back into the ring, Spike barely moves as Crow stands back up on the apron.

 

CROW! CROW! CROW! CROW!

 

Climbing up the ring steps, Dace rushes towards the standing Crow, swinging the steel chair to smash his head off. Horrorcore swings the chair as hard as he can, but Crow ducks under the chair and spins again. Cracking Night in the back of the head with a second Das Wunder Kick, Crow watches him drop the chair and slump backwards, onto the tables at ringside.

 

Comet: Spike almost took Citizen Crow out there with that STO from the apron, but got a DDT for his troubles and Night just took a second Das Wunder Kick trying to attack Crow.

 

Riley: Ohhh, his head is going to be sore in the morning. If Spike knows what’s good for him, he’ll let those two kill each other. Besides, it should be easy to catch a Bad Beat though the table.

 

With Dace laying prone across the two tables at ringside, Crow dashes to the turnbuckles and climbs up to the top rope. Standing on the top and spreading his arms, the Aussie Goth shoots a glance over his shoulder before diving backwards. Flipping head over heels through the air as he comes crashing down, Crow makes a perfect Evenflow Moonsault to the outside. And goes crashing through the tables on the outside as Dace rolls off to the floor at the last second.

 

SMASH! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Comet: EVENFLOW MOONSAULT! DACE MOVES AND CROW GOES THROUGH THE TABLES!

 

With the Antichrist Superstar laying on the floor in heap of wooden splinters, and Dace trying to struggle to his feet on the outside, Spike is the only man standing. Holding the ropes for a moment, Spike shakes his head out from the Apron DDT. Spike Jenkins picks up the table he’d slid into the ring earlier and props it up in the nearest corner before looking to the outside, working out who to try and take out. Rolling under the ropes, Hollywood picks up the steel chair that Dace had dropped and advances on Horrorcore. As the Hardcore Goth pushes himself up on the railings, he hears a yell but can’t turn around fast enough as a steel chair comes sailing through the air and cracks him on the top of the head.

 

CRACK! Rrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

 

Dropping the chair to the floor matting, Spike grabs the doubled over Dace, pulling his arm through his legs into a Pumphandle. Scooping Night up over his shoulders, Hollywood spins around and sits out, dropping Horrorcore neck and shoulders first onto the chair with a Magnum Driver. Bouncing from the impact, half sitting up and holding his neck, Dace kicks his legs for a moment before collapsing back to the floor.

 

Comet: Magnum Driver on the chair from Citizen Jenkins. Spike it taking it to Dace Night here, for the first time in a long time. But he better watch out for the Antichrist Superstar, he’s not out of this match yet.

 

Riley: Speaking of the devil as it where, Crow looks like he’s finally getting his lazy ass up. You miss one Moonsault through a table and you have a damn nap.

 

Striding across to the Aussie Goth, Spike slams a fist into his face before he can fully recover. Rolling Crow under the bottom rope back into the ring, Jenkins follows him in. Pointing to the table propped up in the corner, Spike cuts a hand across his throat as he signs for the end of Crow. Dragging the stumbling Antichrist Superstar to his feet, Hollywood doesn’t miss a beat as he tries to clamp on a Front Facelock, but he’s just not fast enough, as Crow’s hand lashes out and scrapes down across his face. Letting out a yelp of pain, Spike staggers backwards, holding his face as Crow struggles to stand on his feet.

 

Yyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Wrapping his arm around the back of Hollywood’s head, Crow slams Hollywood face first into the propped up table. Smacking Spike across his back for good measure, Crow spins him around and hooks his neck and leg in one swift motion. The Aussie Goth tries to snap backwards to spend Spike through the table, but a struggling Spike grabs the top rope. Stopping his fall backwards in a struggle to stay in the match, Jenkins twists free of Crow’s grasp and kicks him straight in the face. Slipping behind the stunned Goth, Spike locks both arms around Crow’s waist and drags him backwards… sending him slamming through the table with a Backdrop Suplex.

 

SMASH! Ooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Funyon: Crow has been eliminated by Spike Jenkins!

 

SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!

 

Comet: BACKDROP SUPLEX THROUGH THE TABLE! Citizen Spike takes out Citizen Crow, and Dace is barely starting to move on the outside. Maybe Citizen Spike’s home state crowd his helping him on to victory.

 

Riley: More like a lucky counter to the Russian Leg Sweep grabbing the ropes saved Spike’s ass.

 

As a pack of referees hail Crow from the fragments of table and carry him away to the backstage area. Out on the floor, Horrorcore slowly sits up, holding his neck with on hand as Spike Jenkins stands in the middle of the ring. Looking over at the bag Dace left in the corner of the ring, Spike slowly walks over to it and picks it up. Opening it up and tipping it all over the ring, Hollywood’s eyes widen slowly as hundred and hundreds of thumbtack spill out onto the ring mat.

 

Yyyyyyyyyaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Grinning as the middle of the ring gets covered in shiny, sharp, pointy thumbtack, Dace staggers towards another stack of tables. Setting two more up on the outside of the ring and slides a third one into the ring. Taking the moments to suck down air and shake his head free of all the impacts, Spike waits as Dace Night climbs back into the ring. For the first time in a very long time, Horrorcore and Hollywood stand face to face, one on one in the middle of a ring.

 

DACE! DACE! DACE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

 

Comet: Just feel the tension in this ring and the atmosphere from these fans where tonight. How will the rest of the match play out now? How will history come into play?

 

Riley: Spike chokes, Dace cheats, these idiots love it and everyone goes home happy as they both eat table? I can dream.

 

Slowly edging towards each other, the two old rivals lock horns like bulls, in a collar and elbow tie up. Spike tries to sweep his weight forwards and drive Dace onto the mat, but Dace locks his grip and holds his ground. Pushing backwards, Horrorcore over powers Spike and forces him backwards, shoving him close and close towards the pile of thumbacs. Bringing his weight and power to bear on the smaller Spike Jenkins, night forces him down, sending him close and close towards the thumbtacks.

 

Ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

 

Ducking and making a half twist, Spike wriggles his way free from Dace’s grasp and slides behind him, pulling one arm up in a Hammerlock. Dragging Dace’s arm out, unwinding him like a spinning top, Hollywood traps Horrorcore in a Front Facelock and snakes a hand between his legs. Scooping up Dace Night before he can do anything about it, Spike makes a half turn. Flipping Dace over head, Hollywood slams him down into the mat, ring onto the pile of thumbacs. Arching his back on impact and letting out a yell of pain, Horrorcore looks like a human pin cushion from the impact.

 

Comet: Ouch! Hollywood just slammed Dace Night into those thumbtacks and turned him into a bloodied thumbtack holder. This could be the sort of advantage Citizen Spike needs to win this match.

 

Riley: Bleed from this, bump onto this from that platform, take this weapon shot. Do people not wrestling anymore? Damn them.

 

Snapping a kick into Dace’s face that sends him slamming back into the mat, Spike grins at a rear chance to control Dace in a hardcore setting. Stepping behind Night, Jenkins reaches down and hooks him up in an Inverted Facelock. Leaning backwards to haul Dace up to his feet, Spike swings over, dropping Night face first onto the pile of thumbtacks with a Roll The Joint Inverted Swinging Neckbreaker.

 

Rrrrrrraaaahhhhhhh! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!

 

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

 

Comet: Roll the Joint on the thumbtacks from Citizen Jenkins. Spike looks like he has this one in the bag. This could be a big upset for him!

 

Riley: Well, at least he’s wrestling and showing Dace the error of going all hardcore. I hope he passes out from blood loss.

 

With blood starting to pull under him from all the holes in his body , Dace can barely roll away from the pile of thumbtacks and cruel up, trying to protect himself from any further attacks. Spike takes the space he’s given himself to pick up the table laying the ring ropes. Opening up both sets of legs, Spike sets down the table by the ring ropes, setting things up for the end to the match. Stalking over to the still downed Dace Night, Spike reaches down and starts to drag him along the mat towards the set up table. Forcing the bleeding and battered Dace into a Standing Headscissors, Hollywood looks to use a Powerbomb to finish Night off.

 

FUCK HIM UP SPIKE! FUCK FUCK! FUCK HIM UP DACE! FUCK FUCK!

 

Desperately trying to cling onto the match, Dace locks his arms around Spike’s legs and sandbags of two hundred and fifty pounds of weight to the mat. Hollywood tries to strain and deadlift Dace into the air, but just can’t manage to budge him. Stepping backwards, to take up a new plan of attack, Jenkins moves to go for something else, but gets cut off completely but a wild Elbow Smash to the mid section. Sucking in all the air he can, shaking his head out, Dace fires off another Elbow Smash, sending Spike staggering backwards. Stumbling forwards, hardly able to stand, Dace drills home with a third Elbow Smash, this time into Spike’s face.

 

CRACK! Yyyyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: Elbow! Elbow! Elbow! Citizen Night is fighting back! Those drops on the thumbtacks wouldn’t keep him down forever and it looks like Spike Jenkins took too long it trying to finish Dace off!

 

Riley: Oh great, as if we don’t already see enough elbows around here. What’s going to come next, a sunset flip piledriver? Why can’t anyone good be wrestling in this match?

 

Dragging Spike into a Standing Headscissors of his own, Dace underhooks both of his arms and locks his hands closed. Weakly struggling and kick, Spike tries to break free, but he can’t out muscle Dace Night. Hauling Spike up from the mat and flipping him over in mid air, Dace races towards the table. Throwing Spike down pile a sack of bridge, along with a hail of blood from his wounds, Horrorcore watches Hollywood go down… down… down…

 

SMASH! Rrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

Comet: TIGER DRIVER THROUGH THE TABLE!

 

Riley: At least it’s over. Bad luck Spike, better luck next time boy-o!

 

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

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, Spike Jenkins has been eliminated… and so, here is your winner … DACE…

 

FUCKING!

 

Funyon: NIGHT!

 

Hero rips into life again over the yelling California crowd, as Dace stares at the broken remains of Spike Jenkins, surrounded by the shards of broken table. Blood pouring down his face, Dace raises his arm in the air, saluting Spike Jenkins.

 

Comet: And it’s over. Citizen Night is saluting Spike Jenkin’s efforts in this match up, and the California crowd approves. Now this is what the sport is all about Robert.

 

Riley: The fans are cheering this? Oh please. Just wait to Tom Flesher versus John Duran, you can beat they wont cheer then, no matter how good it is.

 

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

 

With blood trickling to the mat and over Spike’s body and the remains of the table, Dace stands looking out in the fans, grinning, as well…

 

Fade Out.

[the.weej 0]

"Welcome back citizens to SWF Smarkdown! Cycloooone Comet here as always along side my partner Bobby Riley here to announce all the action for you!"

 

The camera quickly scans around the Indio Polo Field in Indo, California as the fans cheer along with the return from commercial and the fading house music before we switch cameras to look straight on at the announcers.

 

"What a night we've had here already and it can only get better, right Bobbo?"

 

"Why do you always call me Bobbo?" Riley responds, annoyed by the nickname.

 

"Why? Does it bother you Bobbo?" Comet quips back.

 

"I've worked with you for how long now? Why cant you just call me Riley? Or maybe Bobby even? But no it's always Bobbo like I'm a kid or some kind of pet! Well no more I say! From this point on you will treat me like a professional only, Cyclone! No more of this buddy talk, call me Riley!"

 

"Okay Bobbo." Comet replies with a smile.

 

"Damnit!"

 

"..."

 

Silence.

 

"... Well citizens," Comet continues, "our next match features two men who are no strangers to each other, The Insane Luchador and Austin Sly. This will be the third match these two have had together in so many weeks. These men are set to do battle again, but this time with a shot at the SWF Cruiserweight title on the line. Should be an interesting match eh Bobbo?"

 

"..."

 

"Indeed. What's wrong citizen?" Comet pauses for dramatic effect. "Cheer up! We've still got a night of great matches ahead of us! We've got the Hardcore Gamers title on the line, the USJL title on the line, a special steel cage submission match, and a match to determine the number one contender for Citizen William's recently won World Heavyweight title! All in all, a great night to be a SWF fan!"

 

"All I have to say is"

 

"And it looks like our next match is about to get underway!" Comet cuts him off as Funyon climbs into the ring.

 

 

 

 

Boom!

 

 

 

 

Black pyros with red, white, and green streaks explode from both sides of the entrance stage. The fans immediately jump to their feet to greet one of their favorite SWF superstars! The opening line to "The Gauntlet" announces his arrival.

 

Well I had just got back from a break from the fight, I was weighing in heavy but still feeling alright

 

The Insane Luchador Andrew Rickmen, emerges from behind the curtain as the fans in the stadium errupt in a show of support. Rickmen lifts his arms only to be illuminated by thousands of flash bulbs from the SWF patron's cameras. Rickmen lowers his arms before he makes his jog down the ramp to the ring, moving a little slower than his usual self. The bulb flashes from the audience die down, a few select fans at ringside.

 

Luch-A-Dor!

 

Luch-A-Dor!

 

Luch-A-Dor!

 

"The following match is scheduled for one fall and is for co-number one contendership to the SWF Cruiserweight title," begins Funyon, interupting the chanting fans, "making his way to the ring from Easton, Pennsylvania weighing in at 201 pounds, Insane Luchadoooooooor!"

 

"It looks like Citizen Rickmen might still be feeling some pain from the office match. That was quite a fall he took through that desk." Cyclone comments on the unusual gingerly movement of the self proclaimed hardcore addict.

 

"Maybe all the years of getting his ass beat with everything from a chair to a weedwacker have finally caught up with him? Do I smell a retirement?" Riley pauses to exhale, "one can only hope... one can only hope."

 

"Citizen Rickmen puts life and limb on the line week in and week out simply for the enjoyment of his fans, and you're hoping for his retirement?" Comet responds dumbfounded.

 

"Um... yes?"

 

"..."

 

"What's the matter Comet? Cat got your tounge?" Riley chuckles at his masked colleague.

 

"Oh shush Riley, we all know you've never seen a pussy!" Cyclone fires back.

 

By this time, Rickmen has already climbed in the ring, but he is still standing on the corner turnbuckle with his arms raised. He lowers them slowly again before jumping down from his position. He makes his way to the center of the ring where he stands tall, waiting for his opponent.

 

The spotlights that highlight the entrance stage turn a dark, calming shade of blue as a hard driving accoustic guitar riff fills the air. This has no effect on Rickmen though as he keeps his eyes locked on the stage. The jeers from the crowd begins to override the music anyways. The lights begin their circular motion, cueing the arrival of Austin Sly. His curtain call goes unanswered though, as the music and lights begin to fade out.

 

Funyon turns around and gives a confused look to the announcers at ringside. Comet and Riley have no choice but to return an equally confused look.

 

"Well citizens, I don't know what to tell you. It appears that Citizen Sly is running a little late here." Comet doesn't seem sure of himself as he is noticably stalling for time. "I'm sure that I did see him at the stadium earlier today however."

 

"Well looks like Rickmen might get a win the only way he can, by no show! Ha!" Riley lets out a quick laugh before returning with a more concerned voice. "Honestly though, hopefully nothing bad has happened to Austin causing him to be unable to fulfill his ring duties tonight."

 

The entrance ramp spotlights change to blue again as we go through the now familiar entrance for Austin Sly. The accoustic guitar riff floats through the air once again. This time however, Austin does emerge from the back, but he's not in his usual wrestling attire. Instead, he's sporting his usual street clothes along with a bandaid around the hand that was cut open at Lockdown. He's wearing a button up shirt that only half way covers the wife beater he wears beneath it. His slightly baggy pants drap over the top of his shoes, and he has a mic in hand.

 

"Making his way to the ring from St. Louis, Missouri"

 

"Woah!"

 

"weighing in"

 

"Woah, woah!"

 

"at 230 pounds"

 

"WOAH!"

 

Funyon decides to stop competing for air time with both Austin Sly and the crowd that has now decide reinject itself into the mix, jeering Austin along. Funyon simplies stands inside the ring beside Luchador and watches along.

 

"Now that I have everyones attention," Austin begins, "I'm going to make this short. I wont be wrestling tonight. By orders of Alex Zennon himself, I am to take the night off in order to rest and recuperate after the suffering I was put through on Lockdown inside the SWF office. Also, I have came down with a sudden case of the stomach flu which makes it terribly painful to even be out here talking to you all, but I felt it my own duty to deliver the news to everyone."

 

"What a great guy." Riley lets out a sigh. "He's all we could ever want in an SWF wrestler, right Cyclone?"

 

Cyclone only lets out a muttered "ugh".

 

"Well what do you know?" Riley becomes rather defensive. "If you had your pick, we'd be watching people like like Coy West and Danny Williams all the time."

 

"So, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my recuperating process. But one last thing," Austin continues in his usual cocky tone, "if I were you Rickmen, I'd count my blessings. It's not everyday that you get a free pass out of an ass kicking. Take this night as a warning!"

 

It appears that Rickmen has lost patients with Sly though as he slides out of the ring beneath the bottom rope and takes a straight path towards Austin at the top of the ramp, much to Austin's dismay. The fans cheer Luchador on though as he takes his walk toward his previously scheduled opponent.

 

"What are you doing? Get back in the ring! Shit!"

 

Sly quickly drops the mic and ducks backstage again before Rickmen has a chance to get too close to him.

 

"Citizen Sly is running away!"

 

"You'd run too if you had injuries such as his and a madman like Andrew Rickmen was trying to get his hands on you!"

 

Luchador continues his climb up the ramp though determined to get his hands on Austin. The fans want to see Luchador get his hands on Austin too as their cheers get louder and louder as he nears the top of the ramp. He finally makes it to the top and turn the corner to back where

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Luchador comes reeling back from behind the curtain and towards the front of the stage clutching at his face. He is followed quickly by none other than Austin Sly who now has a steel chair in his posession. The crowd reacts quickly first with a stunned and silent "aww" and then "boos" as they witness all of Rickmen's momentum getting plucked from his being by a steel chair.

 

"This isn't a hardcore match, why does Citizen Sly have a weapon out here? He's got no business with that!" Cyclone yells out.

 

"Relax my masked conterpart," Riley is much more calm and collected, "the match hasn't started yet. As far as the SWF officials are concerned, this never happened. This is how you execute a plan, Comet."

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Austin connects with another chair shot, this time to Rickmen's back. The jolt of pressure from the chair causes Luchador to arch his spine and lurch forwards a ways down the ramp as his arms and shoulders bow in the opposite direction. Luchador doesn't go down though, he just walks closer to the ring.

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Austin lays into Andrew's back with yet another chair shot, with much the same effect. This time, however, Andrew keeps walking until he reaches ringside where he grabs ahold of the bottom rope and leans on the edge of the apron. Austin follows him down to ringside where he promptly ditches the chair in favor of grabbing Rickmen's hair and belt and slinging him into the ring underneath the bottom rope. Sly quickly follows him in.

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

"Now we have a match underway, Comet." Riley chuckles to himself.

 

"I don't care what you say Riley, this isn't a fair match!" Comet reminds his announcing partner.

 

"No body ever said profession wrestling was fair, did they?" Riley counters.

 

Austin quickly crawls on top of Rickmen before screaming at the referee to count.

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

 

 

 

No! Rickmen kicked out before the three. Austin rockets back up to his knees shocked that Luchador still had the strength to kick out after his pre-match abuse. Austin quickly climbs back on top of Riley, this time trying his best to focus solely on covering his opponents shoulders.

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No, a kickout before the three! Austin can't believe it as he rockets up to his feet yelling at the referee for a supposed slow count. Sly is kind enough, however, to remind him of the proper speed to count by clapping his hands at a proper speed for the referee's own reference before returning his attention to the still hurting Luchador. Austin quickly removes his shirt though as to only wrestle in a wife beater. He launches the shirt out of the ring.

 

"Could someone get that for me?" Riley stands up to try and spot where the piece of outerware landed.

 

"..."

 

"It'll be a collectors item some day. You know how I like to collect things, Comet." Riley responds nervously.

 

Austin slaps Rickmen's head as the grounded Luchador rolls over to his hands and knees trying to encourage him to climb back to his feet. After a few slaps, and a few less than necessary words of encouragement, Austin gives up on his plea and just assists Andrew back to his feet by his hair. Sly quickly delivers a knee to Rickmen's gut causing him to bow over and turn himself parallel to the ropes in an attempt to protect his stomach. Austin, however, sees this as an opportunity as he runs and bounces off the ropes and comes running back ready to bulldog Andrew. But instead he's greeted with a foot to his face in the form of a spinning heel kick from Rickmen. Austin collapses to the ring hard, but he's quick to climb back to his feet and catch the still erratic Rickmen with a clothesline that sends him to the mat in a heap.

 

"Don't let Rickmen take advantage of you that way! Keep him grounded on the mat!" Riley yells over the fans.

 

"It looks like Citizen Rickmen is simply running on adrenaline now." Cyclone comments.

 

Austin takes this opportunity to regain his own composure and fix his hair a little while he stalks his now downed opponent. Sly lets his more cocky side take control of him as he smacks the top of Rickmen's head while telling him to get up. Andrew tries his best to struggle to his feet, but he resorts to using the ropes to pull himself back up. For all of his trouble to make it back to his feet, he receives a clothesline from his opponent that knocks him back down off of them. Andrew returns to the ropes to pull himself back to his feet.

 

"Rickmen is done in this match. Look at him. It's almost sad to watch him even try to go on. But just almost." Riley announces, seeming fairly self-assured.

 

Austin walks in towards his opponent once again expecting to continue his assault on Rickmen with a hard right hand. Andrew, however, has other plans as he ducks under it and sends his should into Austin's gut before lifting him up and over the top rope sending him to the mat outside.

 

"Looks like you might have counted Citizen Rickmen out too early, Bobbo." Comet quips.

 

Austin, shocked, slowly climbs back to his feet not knowing what to expect next from his suddenly resurging opponent. He turns around just in time to see Luchador come flying over the top rope, but not soon enough to actually have time to react. Rickmen flattens his opponent and, to a lesser extent, himself out with a cross body. Both men lay on the mat outside the ring trying to regain their breath. The referee starts his count.

 

 

One!

 

No response from either men.

 

 

Two!

 

Austin reaches up to grab his head, but doesn't make a move to climb to his feet.

 

 

Three!

 

 

Four!

 

 

Five!

 

Austin finally begins to climb back to his feet as Andrew begins to stir.

 

 

Six!

 

Austin makes it back to his feet while Rickmen rolls over onto his hands and knees. Austin makes his way towards the ring.

 

 

Seven!

 

Austin climbs back inside of the ring while Rickmen pulls himself up onto the apron. Both men are back inside the ring before the eight count. Austin quickly grabs his opponent and keeps him grounded and to his side with a headlock in an attempt to take back control over the match. He tightens it down trying to keep control of Rickmen and the match. Andrew fights back trying to protect his neck, trying his best to shove Austin's arm down and away to break the hold, but he quickly gives up.

 

"What'd I say Comet? Keep him grounded! Ha!" Riley quips.

 

"I'm sure Citizen Sly was hanging by your every word." Comet responds, drenched in sarcasm.

 

Austin begins to drag his head locked opponent away from the middle of the ring toward the ropes. Andrew quickly notices this opportunity and pulls his hands back behind Austin's back and gives him a hard shove towards the ropes breaking the hold in the process. Sly bounces off the ropes and comes running back toward Rickmen, but Rickmen was prepared as he catches Austin and sends him up and over his head with a quick suplex.

 

"Uh-oh..." Riley gasps.

 

Austin comes crashing down to the mat with a resounding smack from his skin hitting the mat. He doesn't stay down for very long however as he climbs back to his feet and heads right back to Luchador. Rickmen was once again ready for his attack though as he clotheslines his opponent back down to the mat. Austin jumps up again, only to be clotheslined down once again. The third time though, Austin is a little more cautious letting Rickmen bring the fight to him.

 

 

 

 

However...

 

 

 

 

 

This doesn't prove to be a smart idea as Rickmen comes in strong against his slightly bigger opponent landing a stiff kick to his midsection that causes him to double over in pain. Rickmen quickly capitalizes as he locks his opponent's head down beside him as he stalls a little getting the fans behind him. Austin tries to fight his way out, but Rickmen seems more than determined to hit this DDT. Andrew falls backwards bringing Austin head down violently with him. The two bounce off the mat with a thud. Andrew keeps Austin's head locked down beside him though as he climbs back to his feet, the fans begin to count.

 

One!

 

Andrew stands tall in the middle of the ring as Austin tries to break the hold around his neck, but he doesn't have enough energy after the first DDT to break it. Rickmen quickly falls back again sending Austin's head bouncing off the canvas.

 

Two!

 

"Come on ref! Break the hold! Two is more than enough!" Riley flexes his superior refereeing skills.

 

Rickmen shoots back to his feet as if he actual is gaining strength with every bit that Austin loses. His movements are becoming more rigid and precise. On the other hand, Austin is now slumping more and more with the punishment he receives. Andrew quickly sends his body back another time forcing Austin's head to tag along with it.

 

Three!

 

"Ah jeez! A third! Break the hold!"

 

Andrew pulls Austin up for one last DDT, as by this point in the match Austin has lost all will to try and fight his way out. Andrew still somehow gets him to his feet and standing in a proper position for a DDT. He brings Austin's head back down to the canvas with him one last time, letting his head loss when they hit the mat.

 

Four!

 

"Four DDTs?! We'll be lucky if Austin can even stand, let alone finish this match!"

 

Austin's head sharply bounces off the mat causing his whole body to flip over before he comes to rest with his back against the mat. Andrew, however, bounces right off the mat and back onto his feet. The cheering from the crowd is now at it's highest, and Andrew pauses only momentarily to soak it in before dropping down to the mat to pin Austin.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kick out before the three!

 

Andrew climbs back to his feet disappointed over a mere two count, but the fans keep his spirits high as they continue to cheer him on. He stands thinking for a second and looking around the ring for any ideas. Austin is quickly trying to climb back to his feet, but he's struggling to gain any grip on the mat and keeps falling down. Andrew sees this and he makes his decision on his next move. He takes off running for the corner. Luchador climbs the turnbuckle as the fans chant his name.

 

Luch-A-Dor!

 

Luch-A-Dor!

 

Luch-A-Dor!

 

"This looks like the end for Citizen Sly if Citizen Rickmen can hit this!"

 

"No he can't! Get that nut job down from there!"

 

Austin stumbles trying to turn around to face his opponent, falling to one knee in the process. He reaches down to shove himself back up and off the mat completing his turn toward the turnbuckle. As he does, the fans reach a fevered pitch cheering on the Luchador now perched on the top rope. Rickmen stands straight up on the top turnbuckle before bending his knees down again to help launch him toward his opponent. He leaps majestically toward Austin going for a Hurricarana!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

... but...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately for Rickmen, Sly ducks down out of the way and Andrew goes hurling past him. On the bright side though, The Luchador lands on his feet, however. He quickly does a 180-degree turn to face his cowering opponent, but he receives a superkick to his jaw for his trouble. Rickmen goes crashing down onto the mat. The crowd has a momentary stunned silence, before they realize what has happened. Austin quickly takes off running toward the ropes parallel to Rickmen. He jumps onto the center rope before propelling himself backwards to hit the Sky Surfer! Austin stays on top of him for the pin!

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

 

 

Kick out! But it's too late for Rickmen! The referee calls for the bell!

 

"We have our first co-number one contender for the Cruiserweight title in none other than Austin Sly! This must be a great night for the relatively new comer to the SWF! Such a promising young man! He's got a bright future ahead of him!"

 

"It was a good match from both citizens though, Bobbo. I think this match could've gone either way."

 

"But it didn't, so lets all just rejoice in the fact that Andrew Rickmen wont have any gold around his waste any time soon! Ha!"

[the.weej 0]

“Welcome back to Smarkdown, true believers!” the welcome comes boldly from the Cyclone Comet as the commercial break ends and the fans spread all over the Indio Field get ready for more wild SWF action. Sitting next to him, looking ever-so stylish in the SoCal night, is Bobby Riley.

 

“Must you always do that?” Riley quips at his super-partner, but the Comet simply ignores Bobby, before going right back into his super-shilling mindset.

 

“Already tonight we’ve heard from the new world champion, we’ve seen tables, and we’ve had one cruiserweight contendership match! But up next we have part two of the cruiserweight title chase, as Alan Clark takes on Jacob Helmsley!”

 

“This is going to be great! Alan Clark is going to take a pipe right to the face!”

 

“This match isn’t being contested under hardcore rules, Robert.”

 

“SO?” Riley retorts quickly, and as the two continue their banter, the balmy night is suddenly taken over by the first few notes of Marilyn Manson’s “This Is The New Shit”. In the ring, Funyon prepares himself to make his announcements.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is an SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CONTENDERSHIP BOUT~…

 

…introducing first…weighing in at two hundred twenty seven pounds…he hails from Calgary…Alberta…Canada, and is the SWF’s resident pipe-wielding maniac…. JACOB HELMSLEY!!” The crowd on the grassy field boos a bit as Helmsley steps out into the open air. He walks down the aisle with his eyes fixated on the ground a few feet in front of him, and his manager Joseph Corbin behind him, he too keeping his eyes away from the leering crowd.

 

“Jacob looks ready to tear Alan Clark apart!” Riley exclaims once again as Helmsley rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring, leaving his manager to take his designated spot on the outside. Referee Kivell tries to keep his eye on Corbin as Helmsley turns his attention toward the entranceway…

 

…and a storm brews over the field.

 

The crowd eats up the opening acoustics of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive”, but soon they are replaced by silence, leaving everyone preparing themselves for one single word.

 

“smile.”

 

The soft voice echoes through the night before being overcome by the abundance of energy and nu-metal explosion that is Taproot’s “Smile”, bringing Alan Clark under the flood lights and giving the crowd a reason to cheer.

 

“And his opponent…he weighs in at two hundred twenty five pounds and hails from Long Beach, California…he is one half of the Wayward Sons… …ALAN CLARK!!” More cheers explode from the crowd as Alan climbs the ring steps and takes a moment to hold his new Book of Clark up into the air.

 

“There’s that blasphemous book again!” Riley moans as Alan places the book in the corner of the ring and climbs through the ropes, getting close to Helmsley before backing off, showing off a smirk. Jacob returns the smirk as Kivell steps between them, checking over them both for any weapons, but Helmsley’s pipe is far from the ring.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Kivell calls for the bell and the two men immediately move in to one another, locking in a quick collar-and-elbow tie-up. Alan’s strength is no match for that of Jacob, and soon he finds himself being pushed back into the ropes. Alan hits the ropes and Jacob quickly reverses direction, pedaling backwards and whipping Clark into the opposite ropes, but Alan seems prepared, using his speed and agility to take a baseball slide under the bottom rope, stopping just before going completely off the apron.

 

Jacob moves across the ring as Alan gets back to his feet, but the wayward son is suddenly stuck in the tracks of a spearing Helmsley! Jacob aims to spear Alan through the ropes, but the speed of Clark comes into play once more, and as the veteran Helmsley moves through the ropes, Alan hops up over the top and flips toward the mat. Clark catches Jacob around the waist and brings him over and onto his shoulders with a sunset flip! Kivell is somewhat out of position but it is remedied fast as he hits the ground and begins the count…

 

ONEEEE!

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!

 

 

NOOOO!!

 

Stunned, Jacob is still able to kick out just after the two count, as he rolls his body backwards and lands on his knees, Alan steps up and…

 

 

SMACK~

 

…brings his right foot straight across Helmsley’s jaw!

 

“By Zeus! What a kick that was!”

 

“Helmsley didn’t even feel it!” Riley replies, and sure enough as Alan watches, Jacob simply shakes the kick off and gets to his feet, leaving Clark in a bit of shock himself. Alan tries another kick to Jacob’s ribs, but again it has only a limited effect. Another kick…and another…and still it only serves to tick the pipe-wielder off. Jacob seems to have had enough of Clark’s kicking spree, and as the former cruiser champ throws out another kick, he is met with a kick in return – straight to his gut. The force of the kick doubles Clark over, but not for long…as soon he finds his head planted into the canvas with a picture perfect evenflow DDT!

 

“EVENFLOW!” Both announcers yell out in unison as Jacob rolls Alan over and immediately goes for a cover…

 

 

ONEEE!

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!

 

 

 

 

NOOOO!!

 

 

Alan gets his shoulder up just before the three, but Helmsley is not about to back off, and Alan soon finds himself up on his feet again, and being tossed into the corner like a rag doll by his stronger opponent.

 

“Citizen Clark has always shown to have a bit of strength, but even I can say he is no match for the veteran Helmsley here!” Comet remarks as Jacob backs away from the corner a few feet before firing in like a shotgun blast, this time catching the spear and nearly goring Alan’s body into the turnbuckles.

 

Alan seems dazed from the shot, and he stumbles out of the corner, but Helmsley still has his shoulder shoved into Clark’s midsection, and before the former champ can realize what is happening, he is off the ground and being flipped heels over head into the canvas!

 

“Nothern Lights! Cover!” Riley screams as Helmsley holds the bridge out of the suplex and Kivell once again goes for the count…

 

ONEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREENOOOOO!!!

 

 

 

Alan kicks out once more and rolls his body to the outside, trying to recoup a little from the early beating he has taken in the match. Kivell makes sure Corbin does not interfere as Alan holds himself up on the apron and rubs his head, shaking off the hits to his head. But before the shaking can be fully completed…

 

 

SMACK~

 

 

 

THUD~

 

 

Alan is sent backwards into the barricade from the force of a hard baseball slide from Helmsley. Jacob rolls to the outside of the ring and makes a beeline toward Clark, trying to clothesline him straight over the barricade!

 

…2….

 

WHIFF~

 

Alan sees the lariat coming and wraps his hands around the top of the barricade, rolling his body backwards and causing Jacob to take a hard tumble into the grass outside the steel guardrail. Alan uses what upper-body strength he has and pulls his body back up, kicking his legs backwards over his head before releasing his grip, dropping his body down and on top of Jacob.

 

…3…

 

“Great Ceaser’s Ghost did you see that! Alan Clark just dropped his body off the barricade and right down across Helmsley! I’m not sure who that hurt more but it sure looked like it did some damage to something over there!” Comet begins to rant and rave as Kivell continues to count in the ring.

 

…4…

 

Alan is the first one back up, as he uses the barricade to steady himself before hopping over and back toward the ring, but Helmsley is back up quickly as well, only a second or two behind Clark. Jacob rubs his head a bit from the weight of Alan’s body dropping down on top of him as he catches up to Alan near the apron, slugging him straight in the jaw.

 

“Look at that punch! Helmsley doesn’t even need that pipe! He’s got steel for hands!” Riley cheers as Alan recoils from the punch and decides it would be a good time to roll into the ring. Jacob takes a moment to kiss his hand before also heading inside and going for a cover on the downed Clark.

 

ONEEEE!

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!

 

 

 

NOOOO!!

 

 

Alan Clark again gets the shoulder up, and some may wonder why exactly Helmsley would go for a cover after nothing more than a punch, no matter how hard he can hit. Alan is up on his feet relatively quickly, and the two men once again go into a lock-up, and again Jacob’s strength comes into play as Alan finds himself being pushed back into the corner once more. Alan hits the turnbuckles and tries to maneuver himself out of the way of Helmsley, but Jacob WILL HAVE NONE OF THAT…

 

 

 

WHAM~

 

 

…and Alan Clark’s body is driven into the canvas with a HARD belly-to-belly suplex. Jacob once again goes right for the cover, keeping the pressure on…

 

 

ONEEE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!

 

 

 

NOOOOOOO!!

 

 

“That knocked the wind right out of Alan Clark, but he still managed to get his shoulder up just in the nick of time!” The Comet exclaims as the Cali crowd cheers and tries to rally Clark back up onto his feet.

 

Alan does his best, but Helmsley cuts him off at the pass, catching him in the side of the head with a hard boot, putting him back down on the canvas. The crowd continues to cheer, and Helmsley tries his best to ignore them as he drags Alan back up and whips him into the corner. Jacob follows Alan in, catching Clark with a hard clothesline, causing Alan to nearly fall off his feet, only being held up by the top rope catching his outstretched arms.

 

Having him where he wants him, a small smile seems to form on Jacob’s face as he lifts Alan off the ground and seats him on the top turnbuckle. Jacob climbs up as well, hooking Alan into a front facelock and trying to lift him up into a superplex…

 

 

 

 

BLOCKED!!

 

 

 

 

Alan blocks the attempt, but Jacob relents, trying once more to get him up and over…

 

 

 

BLOCKED AGAIN!!

 

 

The crowd cheers as Alan tries to fight out of the hold, and finally is able to do so, but before long Clark catches an elbow to the back of the head, and Jacob gives up on the suplex, instead taking to the air and hoping up onto Alan’s shoulders for a rana…

 

 

 

 

BLOCKED!!!!!!

 

 

 

Alan is able to shift his weight and keep Jacob perched on his shoulders, but the angry Helmsley begins to fight back, throwing punches down into Alan’s head. After three hard shots, Alan seems to be weary, but Jacob should have removed himself from his seat before making trying the fisticuffs, as Alan falls forward off the turnbuckle, slamming Jacob down back-first into the canvas – whether he meant to or not.

 

“MERCY!! Alan Clark and Jacob Helmsley could both be seeing stars in that ring! Jacob’s fall may have been an accident, but the consequences are still there, and both men could be down for the count!” Comet exclaims as Kivell looks down over the two men, beginning his count.

 

…1…

 

“Come on, Helmsley! You deserve this! Get up!” Riley pleads with Jacob…but neither man has made a move. Even Joseph Corbin, standing against the apron, seems concerned.

 

…2…

 

The count continues, and still they lay dormant, with Alan on his back on a few feet away from Helmsley.

 

…3…

 

Both men seem to stir at near the same moment, but as the count of four is reached…

 

…4…

 

Alan slumps back down, giving Jacob the prime opportunity to capitalize if he can just crawl a few feet.

 

…5…

 

Jacob rolls to his stomach, getting himself closer to the winded Clark as Kivell continues to count and Riley continues to beg and plead at the announcer’s table.

 

…6…

 

“COME ON!” Riley screams out as Jacob pushes his arms underneath his body and steadies himself…

 

…7…

 

…AND WITH A LUNGE…

 

 

…HE MAKES THE COVER!

 

 

ONEEEE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOO!!

 

 

 

THREEEEENOOOOOO!!!

 

 

“NO!” Riley once again yells as Alan’s shoulder flies off the mat just before the three count, and Jacob seems to be in complete shock, as he slowly sits up and looks into Kivell’s eyes, but the referee makes sure to remind Helmsley that it was indeed only a two count.

 

“Citizen Helmsley was only milliseconds away from going on to face off for the cruiserweight championship, but Alan Clark is not giving up this easy! He wants that chance to get the title back!” The Comet remarks as Alan tries to get back to his feet, and even Helmsley is taking the time to recover a bit from the slam off the top that nearly took both men out of the match.

 

Helmsley is up moments later, and Clark is up right behind him. The two men circle each other, almost wrapping Kivell up between them. He soon gets out of the way as the two move in for a lock-up, and this time it is Clark who gets the upper-hand – using his speed to move around behind Helmsley and go down, tripping Jacob up and putting him down on his knees. Helmsley turns around as he gets back to his feet, but Alan goes back to the opening moments of the match for inspiration, firing off a stiff kick that catches Jacob right in the mush.

 

SMACK~

 

Jacob can not shake this one off easily, however, and the force of the blow sends him reeling sideways. Helmsley catches himself with his right arm, but Alan sends another kick right up into Jacob’s armpit, causing the arm to buckle and send him down flat on the canvas.

 

“Alan is finally starting to make an impact!” Comet comments as Alan bounces off the ropes and leaps into the air, rotating his body backwards before crashing down on top of Helmsley with the Rolling Stone SSP!

 

“ROLLING STONE AND A PIN!”

 

 

ONEEE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!

 

 

Jacob kicks out and quickly slides up to his feet, catching Alan off guard with his resiliency. Clark looks for another kick, but Jacob dodges…

 

 

CRACK~

 

 

…only to be caught by a leg lariat from out of nowhere!

 

“Shades of the Wildchild puts Jacob Helmsley down!” as Alan finishes his pivoting kick and settles down gingerly on his feet before reaching down and pulling Helmsley up, spinning him around and pulling his body down, locking in an inverted facelock and grabbing Jacob by the waist. Alan lifts Jacob off the ground and holds him up in a perfect ninety degree angle…

 

“THE FINAL CURTAIN! THIS COULD BE IT!”

 

 

Alan falls backwards, but Jacob flips backwards out of the hold, landing on his feet and holding onto Clark in the same position he just had Helmsley in! But Jacob has different plans, and instead of lifting Alan off the ground, he takes his time and drops straight down, driving Clark into the canvas with a DDT!

 

“HELMSLEY WITH THE COVER!” Riley screams out as Jacob covers Alan up and Kivell drops down for the count…

 

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOO!!

 

 

 

THREENOOOOOOO!!!

 

 

Alan Clark barely gets his shoulder up before the three, but now his adrenaline seems to begin to kick in, as he is up to his feet only moments after Jacob, but Helmsley catches Clark with another hard kick to the gut and tries for a whip into the ropes! Alan Clark bounces back and Jacob goes for a clothesline!

 

 

DUCKED!!

 

 

 

 

SMAAAACK!

 

 

“SUPERKICK!!” The Comet yells as Jacob reels backwards from the force of the kick, and Alan spins down onto his feet and makes his move, going for a clothesline off his own…

 

 

…HE CONNECTS!

 

 

Alan Clark clotheslines Helmsley down and wastes no time heading to the ropes once again, leaping up and using them for a good springboard before flipping backwards, trying for an asai moonsault!

 

 

 

THUD!!

 

 

…HE MISSED!!

 

Jacob rolls out of the way just in the nick of time, and Alan eats the mat, his body bouncing off the canvas hard as Helmsley gets to his feet. Alan pops up to his knees, holding his chest in pain. Helmsley is quick to pull Alan up and into an irish whip, putting Alan into the ropes. As Alan bounces back toward his opponent, Helmsley sends another kick into Clark’s gut, doubling him down and putting him in perfect position to be lifted off the ground and flipped up – dropping Clark onto his shoulder and pinning him there, putting him into a Canadian Backbreaker!

 

“The Soul Breaker! YES!” Riley cheers and is way too jovial for his normal self as Alan tries his best to escape the hold.

 

“Alan Clark might not be able to get out of this! This could be it right here! Jacob Helmsley could be a number one contender!” Even Comet can’t help but agree with Riley as the crowd boos and some try to chant for Clark, anything to get the hold to be broken…

 

Through the pain of the backbreaker and Helmsley’s strong arms, Alan kicks his legs wildly and pushes all his weight into his feet, working his hardest to escape…

 

 

…and he does!!!

 

Alan slips through the hold and lands on his feet, stunning the crowd, the announcers, Kivell, and especially Helmsley, who turns around to face his escaped opponent…

 

KICK~

 

 

 

 

THUD~

 

 

 

YAAAAAAAHHHH!!

 

 

“ALAN CLARK JUST GOT AMPED!!” Comet explodes with the crowd as Alan hooks Jacob’s head and falls to the mat, driving Helmsley into the canvas with a neckbreaker. Alan is slow to get up, but the closer he gets to his feet, the better the large smile on his face can be seen by all of those watching in the California night and all around the world.

 

With a wave of his hand Alan Clark points to the top rope and makes his way to the corner. The crowd cheers wildly as Alan reaches under the bottom rope and pulls up his book, holding it up high, causing another loud cheer before he climbs up to the top rope and faces the ring. Helmsley is still trying to recover from the neckbreaker as Alan leaps off the top and flips his body forward…

 

 

…completing a full rotation and a little bit more…

 

 

 

THUUUUUD~

 

 

“THE ENCORE!”

 

“NOOOOOOO!” Riley screams along with Comet’s call as Alan stays on top of Helmsley and Kivell goes for the count…

 

 

ONEEEE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOO!!

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEE!!

 

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

YESSSS!!!

 

 

“Alan Clark has done it! He’s got a chance to regain the cruiserweight championship!” Comet exclaims as Alan rolls toward the corner he leaped from and tries to get back to his feet, pulling his book up with him as Kivell raises his arm in victory. On the outside, Funyon makes the match official…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match by pinfall…and NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP…ALAN CLARK!!” The crowd continues to cheer as Helmsley rolls out of the ring toward his manager, who tries to help him recover in the midst of the cheers and the booming sounds of Taproot.

 

Alan stands tall in the center of the ring, holding his book high in the air, but suddenly his attention is taken away from the crowd and put square into the eyes of LANDON MADDIX!?

 

“It’s Landon Maddix! What’s he doing here?”

 

“THE HOUSE OF TODD HAS ARRIVED! WOO!!” Riley yells as Landon stands in the entranceway, holding the Book of Todd in his hands and pointing it toward the ring, motioning to Clark that he’ll soon be the USJL champion.

 

“Landon Maddix shouldn’t be out here! He has a match against Coy West in only a few minutes!” Comet tries to rationalize the situation, but Riley seems to understand.

 

“The Disciple is out here to tell Alan Clark that he’d better be waiting backstage to help West leave the arena a defeated man! Landon Maddix is going to be the new USJL Champion when this night is over! Mark my words!” Riley’s cocky attitude rears it’s head as Clark and Maddix continue there unblinking stares, but soon a smirk begins to appear on Alan’s face as he holds the Book of Clark high in the air. Alan speaks silent words toward Maddix as the smirk grows larger on his face. Landon is finally pulled backstage by security but he simply brushes them off, taking a moment to yell at them before leaving under his own will, pausing to take one last look at Clark in the ring.

 

“Landon Maddix is indeed up next on Smarkdown…taking on the other Wayward Son, Coy West, for the USJL Championship! Stay tuned to Smarkdown, true believers!” Comet says, and Smarkdown fades out to commercial break with Alan Clark still standing in the ring.

Edited May 11, 2004 by Grand Slam

[the.weej 0]

"Are you scared?"

 

We return to Smarkdown with a view of the entrance ramp. All unnatural lighting on the Indio Polo Field in Indo, California is shut off, leaving the twinkling night sky as the only lights. A group of voices, in unison, whisper over the huge P.A. system…

 

"He's here…”

 

Dark Funeral's “Dead Skin Mask” blasts out from the stadium’s speakers as a flash of light highlights Aecas on the Smarktron, a sadistic grin on his face. Red lights begin to strobe around the stadium, like a system warning of imminent carnage. Thick smoke boils up from the entranceway, filling the air and carpeting the dewy green grass, as a blood red spotlight picks out Aecas standing deep in the depths of the smoke, an eerie silhouette with a large staff in one hand.

 

Aecas raises the staff high above his head, holding it high in both hands. A long wicked blade snaps forth from the staff as Aecas tips his head back spraying a mist of blood into the air, inciting a roar of approval from the crowd as he begins to stride down the aisle. As he walks, the light flickers his face alternating from an impassive visage to a mask of almost demonic glee with each flicker. He enters the ring through the ropes as the stadium’s lights slowly come up, a grin on his face as he anticipates what is to come.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and it is for the S – W – F HAAAAAAAAARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, the challenger! Weighing in at three-hundred and fifteen pounds, from Shrewsbury, England, he is the Black Angel… AEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECAS!”

 

The voice of Bobby Riley echoes across television screens everywhere. “Ladies and gents, welcome back to SWF Smarkdown. I’m Bobby Riley, alongside Cyclone Comet, and coming up next is a Hardcore title match!”

 

“That’s right, Bobbo!” grins the slightly demented Cyclone Comet. “Over eons, the good people of SWF viewership have claimed that Aecas is the one true SAVIOR! of our Hardcore division! However, he has been unable to HANG ON~ to the Hardcore belt, leading to several odd champions! Last week, Jimmy ‘the Demon’ Liston, former Hardcore champion, was defeated for the belt by Mike Van Siclen, and now Van Siclen puts his HARDCORE BELT~ on the line against Aecas, who is certainly seeking VENGEANCE! for the Triple Quadruple match three weeks ago at Battleground!”

 

“…delivered with far more enthusiasm than I have ever seen,” Riley remarks wryly. “Well played, Cyclone.”

 

Funyon lifts the mic to his lips once more. “And now, the champion!”

 

“I’m head of the class… I’m popular…”

 

“Popular” by Nada Surf kicks up, as gold pyro begins to fountain up on the top of the entrance ramp and Mike Van Siclen leaps out from behind the curtain, walking down the ramp with a slick smile on his face and the SWF Hardcore championship slung over his left shoulder. The champion walks down the ramp with even more swagger than usual, pointing at various members of the rambunctious crowd and nodding in a condescending, “I’m-better-than-you” fashion.

 

“Weighing in at two-hundred and TWENTY-three pounds, he hails from Harrison, Illinois, he is the Spectacle, and he is YOUR S – W – F HAARDCORE CHAMPEEN… MIIIIIIIIKE VAN SIC – LEN!”

 

Van Siclen is greeted with a round of boos, but the slender champion absorbs the boos with a grin, sliding into the ring and standing up, posing crucifix-style with the Hardcore title falling from his outstretched arm. He holds the pose for a few moments, even as referee Jefferson Harding grabs the belt and hands it to the timekeeper. Van Siclen grins, snapping out of his pose… only to get leveled by one VERY pissed-off Aecas, who charges him and floors him with a huge lariat! The crowd pops as Van Siclen snaps to the mat, and Aecas quickly makes the cover…

 

“ONE!”

 

 

”TWO!”

 

 

“THR – NO!” Van Siclen kicks out at two, but the long count early is duly noted by Riley, as he remarks, “If that’s all it takes to get a two count this early, Van Siclen won’t last too long with Aecas tonight!”

 

Van Siclen is seemingly unaware of the comments by Riley as he is dragged off the mat by Aecas, twitching slightly. Aecas grabs Van Siclen by the arm, whipping the Spectacle hard into the ropes, and as Van Siclen comes back the Black Angel drops to one knee, obviously expecting Van Siclen to come close enough to get leveled with a spinebuster. Mike, however, has other plans, and he hops onto Aecas’ right knee with his left foot, bringing his right leg around and…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…driving his knee right into the back of Aecas’ head with a killer Shining Wizard! The crowd boos like mad as Aecas falls forward to the mat, the stiff blow from Van Siclen nearly knocking him out, and the Spectacle, hardly able to believe his good fortune, rolls Aecas over and makes the cover!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TW –“ Aecas grabs Van Siclen and presses him overhead, throwing him off at one and a half! Van Siclen hits the mat hard, but he hops back to his feet, knowing that he can’t give an inch to Aecas. As Aecas gets to his feet, the Spectacle bounces off the ropes, hoping to catch the Black Angel off guard. The challenger hauls himself to his knees as Van Siclen bounces off of the ropes and comes back, turning over in midair and catching Aecas in the face with a hard spinning wheelkick!

 

Aecas returns to his back, and Van Siclen keeps up the attack, nimbly hopping over the Black Angel’s body and grabbing the top rope, heaving himself up to the top. He lets go of the top rope at the apex of his leap, splitting his legs and allowing them to hit the top rope, slingshotting him over backwards so that his outstretched body lands across Aecas with a vicious split-legged moonsault!

 

“Some cruiserweight carnage from Van Siclen!” Riley says, “and the recent slim-down of Van Siclen appears to have made him just a titch faster in that ring!”

 

Van Siclen gets to his feet quickly, the adrenaline rush of the first few minutes beginning to wear off but the Spectacle’s tremendous pacing beginning to show as he gets to his feet, taking a couple of breaths before turning around. He spots Aecas, beginning to get to his feet, and walks over to the Black Angel, helping him along by lifting him to his full height. Van Siclen grabs Aecas by one arm, dancing back a couple of steps before whipping the Black Angel hard into the turnbuckle!

 

Aecas sticks there, his breathing heavy, and Van Siclen stalks him like a buzzard circling a dead carcass, moving closer towards Aecas. Van Siclen rears back with his right hand, slamming a hard forearm into the forehead of Aecas, causing the Black Angel to slide down the turnbuckle a bit. Realizing how out of it Aecas actually is, Van Siclen grins, grabbing the challenger by the chin and lifting him back to his full height. Van Siclen reaches out with his right hand, letting it shake a little bit, and then brings it hard across Aecas’ face with a big slap!

 

*SMACK!*

 

“YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!”

 

Van Siclen waggles one finger at the crowd, obviously enjoying the control he has over the match as he grabs Aecas in a facial claw, turning his head so that he can stare the Spectacle dead in the eyes. Van Siclen looks hard at Aecas, taunting him a little bit… and then slapping him right across the face with his left hand!

 

*SMACK!*

 

“YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!”

 

“These fans are chiming in with a charming COMMENTARY~ on Mike Van Siclen’s SEXUAL PREFERENCES~,” Comet says with a grin.

 

“Well, it’s not his fault that he so greatly outclasses Aecas,” Riley says snidely. “And it’s certainly not his fault that he is dominating this match in a way that some people can only dream of dominating anything.”

 

“Like your dreams of DOMINATING~ your wife?”

 

“I hate you, you masked freak.”

 

Van Siclen steps out of the corner, grabbing Aecas by the arm and leading him out of the corner as well. He steadies himself in the middle of the ring, whipping Aecas hard into the ropes and whirling around, bending over to catch the big man with some sort of back body drop maneuver as he comes back. The big man hits the ropes and ricochets back, but as he comes closer to the Spectacle, the Black Angel sees him telegraphing the back body drop, and clubs him wicked across the back, sending Van Siclen down to one knee!

 

Aecas grabs Van Siclen around the midsection and lifts him back to his feet, putting the Spectacle into a standing headscissors. The crowd roars as Aecas puts Van Siclen into a double underhook, lifting the Spectacle up and onto his shoulders, into a Canadian Backbreaker. The crowd pops as Aecas struggles with the huge weight on his shoulder, stumbling towards the side of the ring and, as he reaches the ropes, snapping Van Siclen over once more, over the top ropes and face-first into the grass twelve feet below!

 

Van Siclen hits the dewy green grass with a large force, enough to render the slight comfort of the grass pointless. He lay on the outside for a few moments, trying to catch his breath as Aecas slides to the outside, lifting up the ring apron and grabbing around for some toys.

 

“Aecas is looking to get nice and nasty right here,” Comet says, “and IT AIN’T NO FUN~ for Mike Van Siclen!”

 

“Dammit, Comet, stop that.”

 

Aecas pulls out from underneath the ring, and with him he pulls a stack of light tubes. The crowd roars its approval as the Black Angel scatters the tubes about (there’s probably a dozen), keeping two in his hand and balling a fist up around them. Aecas looks down at Van Siclen, who is currently stumbling to his feet on the grass, and he looks up at the crowd, twisting his black-and-white painted face into a sickeningly sadistic grin. He turns back to Van Siclen, who looks up at him momentarily before his face turns to horror as Aecas lifts his fist and…

 

*WHAM!* *CRUNCH!* *SMASH!*

 

“EH – CUSS! EH – CUSS!”

 

The fans roar their approval as Aecas brings his fist down upon the head of Van Siclen, shattering the glass tube on Van Siclen’s forehead. Mike falls back down to the grass, his forehead oozing blood and turning a delightful shade of pink as Aecas opens his hand, letting shards of glass fall to the grass, mixing in like hazards with the moist green grass.

 

“Aecas with a HUGE fist to Van Siclen’s forehead,” Riley calls, “and he not only draws first blood, but very nearly kills the Spectacle in the process!”

 

Aecas goes back to the ring apron once more, lifting it up and rummaging around underneath the ring once more. Van Siclen, meanwhile, stumbles to his feet, and seeing Aecas distracted by the weapons underneath the ring, he gingerly walks over to the Black Angel, planting one foot in his huge ass and sending him tumbling into the weapons underneath the ring!

 

Aecas falls forward, and Van Siclen grabs him by the leg, pulling him out a little bit. Thinking quickly, Van Siclen grabs Aecas’ right boot and begins untying it, taking the boot off and throwing it into the crowd! Van Siclen grabs Aecas’ other boot, doing the same and leaving the huge Black Angel barefoot!

 

“I don’t know what Van Siclen’s strategy is here,” Comet says, “but it seems almost as CRAZYSEXYCOOL~ as the TLC album of the same name!”

 

“You goofy bastard,” Riley moans, “can’t you see? There’s glass shards all over the grass, and by taking Aecas’ boots off Van Siclen is making sure that Aecas is going to have to walk through them! This is brilliant strategy by Van Siclen – Aecas’ feet are going to be torn to shreds!”

 

Indeed, Van Siclen backs off of Aecas, now stalking over towards the commentary table with nasty thoughts on his mind. He grabs Comet by the white-and-blue nylon, shoving the former SWF Main Eventer out of his steel chair and into the lap of Bobby Riley! Riley’s arousal notwithstanding, Van Siclen grabs Comet’s chair, folding it up and tipping an imaginary cap towards the superhero, walking back towards Aecas with a cocky smirk on his face.

 

Aecas, meanwhile, is back on his feet on the outside, and the barefoot brawler has a steel pipe in his hands and a not-very-nice glare on his face! He gingerly walks around the outside, stalking towards Van Siclen, who by contrast is running very fast towards Aecas, the chair in front of his face as he charges closer, looking to drive it into Aecas’ skull!…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…but instead gets the chair driven into his own skull! A huge kick to the chair by Aecas sends it right into the face of Van Siclen, and the Spectacle falls backwards, right onto a light tube! Shards of glass pierce Van Siclen’s back and the champion lets out a yelp, rolling off the light tube in a lot of pain. The blow has affected Aecas as well, knocking him off balance. As he stumbles back, a large shard of glass pierces his foot, and he falls to one knee in pain, grabbing his foot, which is now bleeding gratuitously.

 

“Look at the pain on the faces of both men!” Riley calls out. “Both are bleeding, both have glass stuck in them, and yet both are FAR from done!”

 

Both men struggle to their feet, trying to regain their balance as the thoughts of Hardcore glory resound in their heads. Both men get to their feet at roughly the same time, and the two stare at each other, neither man very happy with the other.

 

Van Siclen has the advantage on the outside, being able to walk freely without fear of having glass stabbed into his foot – he, being sensible, is wearing boots. He grins at Aecas, charging the big man and leaping, throwing all of his weight at Aecas… but Aecas catches him in midair! The crowd pops as the big man lifts Van Siclen up onto his shoulders, looking for the big put-away to end the match as he lifts Van Siclen up, up, up into powerbomb position, and then looks to drop him…

 

…but Van Siclen is holding on to the top rope, and he is going nowhere fast! The crowd boos the (arguably genius) maneuver from Van Siclen, and Aecas ferociously tries to force Van Siclen to the mat, but the Spectacle’s grip is too strong, and Aecas can do nothing! Frustrated, Aecas grabs Van Siclen by the midsection, trying to make something happen… but the only thing that happens is Van Siclen locking his legs around Aecas’ head, letting go of the top rope and falling, back, arching his back and whipping Aecas over with a hard hurricanrana onto a pair of glass tubes!

 

*CRASH!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

The crowd’s “oooooh”ing is representative of Aecas’ state, as he lets out a mighty roar, rolling over onto his stomach and grabbing his back, where a large shard of glass is lodged! Referee Harding is on the scene to pull it out, but Van Siclen shoves him away, not wanting some stupid stripey to get too involved in HIS match.

 

“Van Siclen avoids the powerbomb, and he just gave Aecas a one-way ticket to glassville!”

 

“Van Siclen doesn’t live in a glass house, but he’s SURE THROWING STONES~!”

 

“… I hate you so much.”

 

Grinning at Aecas, Van Siclen lifts the apron up himself. We can see him put something into his tights, and he ducks back out from under the ring, looking at Aecas, struggling to his feet, with a slick grin on his face. The champion looks down at Aecas, taunting the big man before rolling back into the ring, daring Aecas to come in and join him.

 

“Van Siclen is taking a huge risk here, as the longer he wastes time, the more of a chance Aecas has to catch his breath!”

 

Aecas gets to his feet and rolls into the ring, staring daggers at Van Siclen and charging the champion, looking to take Van Siclen out with a huge lariat…

 

…but Van Siclen leaps up and grabs Aecas’ arm! Aecas’ momentum drags Van Siclen with him, and Mike springs into the air, wrapping his legs around Aecas’ other arm! The crowd boos as Van Siclen pulls back, dragging Aecas down into a crucifix pin…

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

“THRE – NO!” Aecas kicks out, and Van Siclen lets go of him, quickly getting to his feet. Aecas, too, rises quickly, but Van Siclen grabs him quickly, grabbing him by the arm and whipping him hard into the turnbuckle. Aecas falls into it, but unlike earlier shows no weakness, staring daggers at Van Siclen as the Spectacle steps closer, swagger in his step as he reaches back with his right hand… and…

 

*SMACK!*

 

…slaps the Black Angel right across the face!

 

Aecas does not move.

 

Van Siclen is caught a bit off guard by this, and he reaches back again with his right hand, nodding cockily at the crowd as he comes forward…

 

*SMACK!*

 

…and slaps the Black Angel across the face once more!

 

Aecas does not move.

 

Van Siclen is frustrated now, and he reaches WAY down deep, putting everything he has into…

 

*SMACK!*

 

…one final slap to the face of the challenger!

 

And yet, Aecas still does not move.

 

Van Siclen grabs Aecas by the arm once more, utterly frustrated and looking to just end it as he pulls, trying to whip Aecas into the opposite turnbuckle…

 

…but Aecas reverses, and Van Siclen is sent flying into the opposite turnbuckle! Van Siclen hits the turnbuckle so hard he’s very nearly impaled by it, and Aecas follows up with a huge avalanche that very nearly makes Van Siclen one with the turnbuckle! The crowd is going wild as Aecas backs up, raising one arm to the crowd and pulling it across his throat, in traditional throat-slasher style!

 

“Aecas is signaling that it’s ALL OVER~ right here!” cries Comet.

 

“… Aecas is dead wrong.”

 

Aecas grabs Van Siclen out of the turnbuckle, driving one huge knee into his gut to double the Spectacle over! He heaves Van Siclen up over his shoulder, into Torture Rack position, and the crowd erupts, knowing that the Executioner is to come!

 

“Aecas may be dead wrong,” Comet says, “but after this, Van Siclen may be DEAD~!”

 

A bell tolls ominously, however, and the crowd suddenly erupts in boos as none other than JANUS makes his way out from behind the curtain and comes running down the ramp, sliding into the ring! Aecas drops Van Siclen like a bad habit, facing Janus, and the two stare down for a few seconds, neither wanting to make the first move…

 

…and then Janus attacks, driving a huge knee into Aecas’ stomach! Aecas doubles over, and Janus locks him into a standing headscissors! Quickly, Janus hefts Aecas up onto his shoulders, running over to the ropes and throwing him over…

 

ALLL

 

THE

 

WAY

 

DOWWWWWN

 

…with a powerbomb onto the grass and glass on the outside!

 

“HO – LY SHIT!”

 

“HO – LY SHIT!”

 

“…good God, I think Janus just inadvertently helped Van Siclen! I never thought I’d see that!” Riley says.

 

“Forget Van Siclen!” Comet cries. “Janus just KILLED Aecas, and now Van Siclen just has to make the pin!”

 

Van Siclen struggles to his feet as Janus slides out of the ring and walks up the ramp, not turning back around as Van Siclen hits his feet and looks at Aecas, lying motionless on his back on the outside. Van Siclen looks at Aecas, wiping blood, sweat and hair out of his eyes as he goes over to the ropes near Aecas, grabbing them with both hands and leaning back, pulling on the ropes…

 

…and then vaulting over! He does a corkscrew in midair, splitting apart his legs as he falls… dropping a huge leg across Aecas’ neck!

 

“SLINGSHOT SIN AERIAL!” Riley yells. “PIN HIM, DAMMIT, IT’S OVER!”

 

Indeed, it is over, and Van Siclen doesn’t even move, leaving his leg across Aecas’ neck as Harding makes the academic pin…

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

 

“NO, for God’s sakes!” Comet yells. “Aecas was SCREWED!”

 

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“More than you’re getting,” Riley shoots back, happy as Harding brings his hand down…

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

…and signals for the bell!

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

The crowd erupts in boos as Van Siclen gets to his feet, wobbling around a little bit but still pretty much okay… if you ignore the gully on his forehead, the gash on his back… okay, so maybe he’s not okay. But as Harding hands him the Hardcore title, he’s pretty damn close.

 

“Here is your winner, and STILL the S – W – F HAAAAAAAAAAARD-CORE CHAMPION… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIICLEN!”

 

Aecas’ eyes open, crusted with sweat, and the anger towards Janus washes over him like a tidal wave. He knows why he isn’t holding up the Hardcore title in glory – the Hell Machine, Janus. But his time will come, his revenge will come, and memories of this night will make it all the sweeter.

 

Van Siclen holds up the Hardcore belt, clutching the gully on his forehead in pain as he stumbles towards the ramp, walking up it and breathing heavy as he turns around, facing the crowd and grinning widely. Maybe he’s aware of the huge help from Janus, maybe he’s not. But hey, he’s still the champion.

 

One down, three to go.

 

FADE OUT.

[the.weej 0]

“Citizens,” greets Comet. “We are back here live on Smarkdown…and we would be bringing you the USJL Title match right now, but apparently Mike Van Siclen is refusing to vacate the ring following the Hardcore Title match.”

 

In the ring Mike snatches the microphone from Funyon, and turns toward the crowd – all of which are booing their hearts out.

 

“Well,” replies Bobby. “Mike APPARENTLY has something to say here tonight, but wanted to get his match out of the way first.”

 

“So,” says Mike, breathing rather heavily as he has yet to fully recover all his stamina from his match. “Now that this Hardcore match is out of the way, I’ve got just one thing on my mind…and it involves the Tag Team Championship!”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

“I was beginning to wonder when he’d refocus on those belts,” chimes Bobby. “Lord knows, him and Cortez are the best team we have in the federation right now!”

 

“No thanks to-”

 

“Shh…I wanna hear this!”

 

“That’s right,” continues Mike. “On Lockdown, Z, you were prepared to give a team of washed up never has-been’s the shot tonight on Smarkdown, but I don’t think that’s going to happen! You can thank me, personally, for taking care of that matter Mr. Commissioner…and you can see what happens when you try and bad mouth me or double cross me. I’d bet my bottom dollar that right now…Wildchild is wishing that he’d have kept his f(Bleep)ing mouth SHUT!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“Somebody ought to drag him out to the barn with a stick for that one,” Comet says. “Thanks to Mike Van Siclen poor Wildchild is watching this show from a Hospital room!”

 

“Watch what you say, Comet,” warns Bobby. “Mike is not one to take things lightly.”

 

“Oh, let him try,” snaps Comet. “While this Villain’s dark powers are certainly strong they are no match for the might of CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~!”

 

“Oh, brother.”

 

Boos remain strong, but a chant for the Bahama Bomber breaks out and it doesn’t take long for it to take over the entire crowd.

 

“WILD-CHILD!”

“WILD-CHILD!”

“WILD-CHILD!”

“WILD-CHILD!”

“WILD-CHILD!”

“WILD-CHILD!”

“WILD-CHILD!”

 

Mike paces back and forth in the ring, waiting about as patiently as you could expect from Mike Van Siclen. The chants continue, and finally he turns back to the crowd.

 

“WILL YOU PEOPLE SHUT THE HELL UP!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

 

“I didn’t come out here to TALK about Wildchild! I didn’t come out here to hear his name! No, I came out here to get what is rightfully owed to me and my partner, Todd Cortez, which is a rematch for the tag titles! SHUT UP!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“Somebody better get Citizen Van Siclen’s out of the ring before he incites a riot!”

 

“What,” continues Mike, “you want Wildchild to come out here and kick old Mike Van Siclen’s ass, is that what you want?”

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“You’re darn right they want that,” shouts Comet. Riley rolls his finger in circles around the side of his head.

 

“Well…TOO F(Bleep!)ING BAD,” replies Mike. “Are all of you people that DENSE? Are you that BLIND? Did you not see what I did to Wildchild, he’s in a hospital! His career is done! Wild and Dangerous are DEAD…” he pauses for a moment as a smile crosses his lips, “thanks to me, Mike Van Siclen.”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

“Here, maybe you people need a refresher,” says Mike. “I figured you just might so I have a clip ready. Be warned…what you are about to see is not for the faint of heart, it is but a lesson…and a lesson for everyone in the back to learn…when you cross me! Roll the tape!”

 

“I can’t believe we are going to have to watch this horrendous act again,” cries Comet.

 

“Start believing,” says Riley, as the lights dim. “and like he said it’s a valuable lesson to keep in mind.”

 

The arena goes dark while the crowd still verbally assaults Mike, but soon all eyes turn to the Smarktron and wait…

 

 

 

 

….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… wait some more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…. a bit more…some grow impatient….Mike taps his foot on the canvas…

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then… finally, a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice…

 

 

“JOHNNY DANGEROUS~”

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!”

 

The crowd goes completely and utterly MAD as “After the Flesh” THUNDERS out across the Indio Polo Field, and every single one of them leaps to their feet! Dozens of strobes light up the set, piercing through the smoke rising from the stage and partially illuminating the Barracuda as he steps out from behind the curtain and leaving Mike Van Siclen’s chin resting on his chest!

 

“BAW ZEUS,” exclaims Comet, excitedly. “Johnny Dangerous, the partner of the Wildchild is here!”

 

“What the hell is he doing out here,” cries Bobby. “I thought he wasn’t even at the show, and why is he interrupting the video we were about to see?”

 

“I think we’re about to find out, Citizen Robert!”

 

His eyes pierce through Mike Van Siclen’s like daggers as he steps through the cloud of smoke with a look of rage like never before seen on the face of the Barracuda! The Cruiserweight Title – wrapped around Johnny’s waist -- gleams as the lights pass over the gold, and his hand reaches down to unfasten the title, dropping it to the floor while edging his way down the ramp. All the while Mike simply stares at the Secret Agent, until finally dropping the microphone to the canvas and stepping back towards the ropes, ready to pounce the Secret Agent the second he gets to close!

 

Johnny removes his shirt rather swiftly and angrily slings it to the floor, the takes off at a full sprint for the ring with the crowd cheering on!

 

“THIS IS IT,” shouts Comet, as the Barracuda slides into the ring, and Mike quickly moves in for the kill, stomping his foot into the…mat as Johnny rolls to his feet behind Van Siclen! He pops up to his feet and Mike spins around to meet him, swinging his fist out for the Secret Agent’s skull…

 

WHOOSH!!

 

“Nobody home,” Johnny dodges the blow with tender ease, but Mike doesn’t give up! He swings again, but once more Johnny dodges the blow then grabs Mike’s arm, pulls back on it, and SLINGS the tip of his foot straight into Van Siclen’s jaw!

 

KA-RACK!!

 

A roar from the crowd echo’s the kick, and Mike staggers to the side holding his mouth! Johnny slides in, dripping with rage, and RAMS the palm of his fist straight into Mike’s head, with a series of Shotei Palmstrikes!

 

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

 

…

 

…

 

“OH MY GAWD!”

 

THWAAAACK!!

 

A fourth SLAMS into Mike’s face and a stream of blood flies loose to another roar of cheers! He stumbles into the turnbuckles, dizzy from the shots, and Johnny spins him around to face him while shoving his back into the steel post before unloading with a solid left, followed by an even stronger right!

 

WHAM!

WHAM!

 

Taking a step away from Mike, Johnny winds himself up…

 

 

KAA-RAAAAAAAACK!!!!

 

 

…AND SLINGS HIS FOOT AROUND, ABSOLUTELY SHATTERING MIKE’S SKULL WITH A FEROCIOUS SPINNING HEEL KICK, SENDING VAN SICLEN OVERBOARD!!

 

“And not a second too soon,” shouts Comet, as the cameras swing toward the entrance ramp and the Urban legend himself comes barreling down the ramp! “Here comes Mike’s tag team partner, Todd Cortez!”

 

“About time,” cries Bobby, “He told Mike he’d have his back if he needed it…well he needs it because there is a LUNATIC in the ring right now!”

 

However, Todd stops short of entering the ring as his eyes gaze toward Johnny who is simply livid! He keeps his eyes firmly locked on the Barracuda, and slides toward Mike Van Siclen.

 

“COME ON,” shouts Johnny, frothing at the mouth. “COME ON!”

 

Todd stoops down and helps Mike to his feet, and together they begin making their way up the ramp. Johnny stares as he growls towards the duo, and the crowd cheers magnificently as they chant:

 

“JOHN-NY!”

“JOHN-NY!”

“JOHN-NY!”

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“I think that might be the best line of action for Cortez,” says Comet. “To simply get Mike Van Siclen and get the heck out of dodge!”

 

“That’s because Todd knows he’d kill Johnny, and he doesn’t want to have to go there with him!”

 

“Bullocks I say,” snaps Comet. “Regardless…Mike Van Siclen hasn’t a soul to blame for this except himself...and I don’t think I have EVER seen the Barracuda as vicious as we have seen him here tonight! Mike Van Siclen may have destroyed Wild and Dangerous, but he has awakened the inner dragon of *Johnny* Dangerous!”

 

“Johnny’s making off lucky tonight,” adds Bobby. “He caught poor Mike with his pants down and grabbed him by his nuts, but rest assured Johnny still sucks!”

 

Johnny leans over the ropes, shouting obscenities toward Todd Cortez and Mike Van Siclen as they throw out threats from the safety of the top of the ramp. Finally, Johnny turns from them and looks to the crowd, and the realization comes over him… For once, they are cheering for HIM, and chanting HIS name…for once. He raises his fist to them…

 

 

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

 

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

 

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

 

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT.

[the.weej 0]

"And like the last hour of a school prom, it's time to slow things down a little here on Smarkdown." Cyclone Comet says greetingly, as Smarkdown is back from commercial. "A match of high importance and personal nature coming up...with the USJL Championship on the line. Landon Maddix, who earned his shot on Lockdown by surviving the madcap Office Brawl, challenges for the belt he helped unify. His opponent, Coy West, is the man responsible for putting Landon's...well...'mentor' Todd Royal on the injured list. So it's more than gold on the line in this match..."

 

"Certainly." interrupts Riley. "It's the pride of Todd Royal...something which cannot be measured by mere mortals."

 

"Uh, yeah...sure...let's just go up to the ring introductions..."

 

 

Right on cue, the lights are cut...leaving only the faint May-night sunlight to illuminate the arena, as the playing of N.E.R.D's "Lapdance" is met with resounding boos from the Cali crowd.

 

"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"

 

The drumbeat kicks in, just as Landon Maddix emerges from behind the curtains with his arms already held aloft in preparation for the ever-present wall of jeers that hits him. And the first thing noticeable about him is his shirt, mainly because that's the only thing in the camera shot, which almost mourningly reads 'He Shall Rise Again'...with a picture of a sleeping Todd Royal underneath, no doubt taken without his permission or, until now, knowledge. Right behind Landon of course is Megan Skye, who skips over towards Landon and thrusts her hands towards him, as if presenting a prize on a gameshow...only, with out the phony smile. Well...almost.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...this contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for...THE USJL CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first...the challenger. Accompanied to the ring by his 'perfect 10' Megan Skye. From Huron, South Dakota and weighing two hundred and ten pounds...he represents The Unnamed, and remains the last ever JL Champion...The Disciple of Todd…LANDON...'LA CUCARACHA'...MAAAAADDIIIX!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

The crowd are heavily on Landon's case, as he again holds his hands aloft in the air, soaking up the anti-adulation while walking on towards the ring.

 

"I guess I needn't ask for the California fans' opinions on Landon Maddix..." mutters Comet.

 

Reaching the apron, Landon hops up and extends his arm to Megan, helping her up and opening the ropes to allow her in. He then struts across the apron, before jumping to the middle turnbuckle and again posturing to the jeering crowd, as Megan looks on with a grin...

 

 

...which is soon seen to disappear, as "Lapdance" ceases, and a taller figure than the last emerges from through the curtain. The fans eventually notice him, and cheer wildly as Maddix angrily jumps into the ring, and glares down the ramp to where Coy West has arrived.

 

 

"And...THE OPPONENT!"

 

Funyon's booming alerts the remaining slow-reacting fans to Coy's presence, as he stops on the top of the stage and raises his USJL Championship in the air, to another considerable pop.

 

"He hails from Atlanta Georgia, and weighs two hundred and fifty three pounds. The current...reigning...and defending...SWF USJL CHAMPION...this is 'WIIIIILLLD'...COOOOOOOYYYYY...WWWEEEEESSSSSTTT!!!"

 

Striding down the aisle, Coy hastily removes his denim vest and tosses it to a lucky fan in the crowd, who'll no doubt go and sell the 'treasured' item on e-Bay...leaping to the apron, before taking his baseball cap and flinging that too into the crowd. Referee Ced Ordonez walks over and is quickly handed the belt by the focused West, who enters the ring and starts to stride towards Landon like he means biz-ness~! Understandably threatened, the challenger backs off into the corner while Megan scurries from the ring, and Ced gets rid of the belt before calling for the bell...

 

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

Now Ced has more pressing issues, namely keeping Coy back from Landon, who has ducked his head through the ropes to avoid any form of physical interaction.

 

"It looked like Coy wanted to start this match quickly...but I guess Landon has put a stop to that..." observes Cyclone.

 

"If Coy was smart...which he isn't...but if he was, he'd want this match to be fought at a slow pace. Landon's just doing him a favor."

 

Coy is gradually pushed peacefully back into the center of the ring by Ced...but that's all the invitation Maddix needs to charge, and smash Coy in the face with a forearm! The Wild One is rocked from the unexpected blow, allowing Maddix to fire a series more forearms in quick succession, taking West across the ring towards the opposite turnbuckles from which Maddix emerged from. But the forearms are not enough to halt West, who eventually swings back with a forearm of his own...which has enough force to drop Landon to the mat. The challenger scrambles up, and charges in again on the still un-prepared Coy with some more forearms. This time though, West is much quicker to smash Landon with a forearm of his own to knock him down, and taking the hint Landon rolls from the ring where Megan is quickly over to check on him.

 

"Well, these two men do have contrasting styles..." points out Comet.

 

"But so far, they're both just trying to cave in each others faces. Just the way it should be!"

 

"Just what I was going to say. Well...near enough."

 

 

"LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!"

 

The crowd are once again vocally owning The Disciple, as he is busy checking his teeth are still intact while Coy watches on from the ring impatiently...unable to go after Maddix, due to Ced standing in his way. This gives Landon the time to focus himself, removing his t-shirt to a couple of screams from his fans...one being Megan, and the other presumably Riley...before eventually rolling back into the ring. By now West has found some self-restraint, allowing Landon time to needlessly adjust his elbow and knee pads before he moves forward. Quite unsurprisingly, Landon starts to jawjack with Coy, who doesn't seem to rise to Landon's dis-respect...

 

*SMACK!*

 

...until that is he slaps the youngster across the face! The blow sends Landon reeling back, but he uses that to his advantage by spinning back around for a roaring elbow...

 

...which Coy blocks with a boot, before grabbing Maddix in a Grappler-esque side headlock which is sure to provoke discussion. Landon is now trapped in the USJL Champ's grip, which suddenly tightens as West looks to keep Landon's high flying stylings at bay. It seems to be working, as Coy goes to tighten the hold again, which allows Landon to slide out midway and grab Coy in a hammerlock. That doesn't last long, as Coy locks his legs around Maddix's right, dropping to the mat with a knee-wrenching twist, which takes Landon down in a modified drop toe hold.

 

"This is clearly not the kind of match Landon wants..." Comet predicts. "He's played himself right into Coy's hands..."

 

"How would YOU know? You're just an announcer."

 

"Do you realize the irony in that statement?"

 

Quickly Coy takes Maddix's right leg by the ankle, pulling up as hard as he can which brings Maddix up into the air...before Coy cruelly lets him crash down knee first to the canvas! Landon begins to roll around in pain, but is again grabbed by Coy, who places his foot on the inside of the knee, before DRIVING it into the canvas again. Desperately Landon tries to squirm free, but West maintains hold of the ankle and drags Maddix back towards him, before taking the knee and yet again driving it to the mat, with the crowd's mass approval. With Maddix's speed temporarily nullified, Coy now steps back, smugly allowing Landon to get up.

 

"Now that's dis-respectful." Riley complains.

 

"Well, it's not like Landon Maddix has a lick of respect for Coy, or anyone besides his Unnamed buddies for that matter."

 

"I've heard he respects me..."

 

"Congratulations, you have a fan. Here...have a cookie."

 

Angrily Landon spins to his knees, stopping and shaking his head as Coy shrugs and beckons him on. Up comes Landon now, favouring the knee as he walks forward into a collar and elbow tie-up from West. Quickly Coy transitions first from tie-up to a side headlock, and then from headlock quickly to a hammerlock, before releasing and swiping at Maddix's knee with a kick. Landon is alert enough to hurdle the kick, and slam Coy in the chest with a back elbow before running to the ropes. West awaits his return with open arms...literally...which Landon makes sure to avoid, spinning around Coy's body looking for a headscissors but gets nothing as West shoves him off...

 

...causing Landon to jolt his knee on landing! Coy spots it, and slams his boot into the kneecap which drops Maddix to the mat again, clutching his leg in evident anguish. Referee Ordonez moves in to check on Maddix, but is quickly moved away by the dominant West who stalks The Disciple and reaches out for the leg...but gets a left boot wrapped around his head not once...not twice...but thrice consecutively, which is enough to back him off. Quickly Landon rolls back up, limping over towards Coy who swings with a right hand which is ducked. Coy turns and swings with another right, but again Landon ducks...so rather than try again, Coy stops with a sigh, and HACKS Maddix's knee away like an Argentinean soccer player...not that anyone in the arena would know about that.

 

"OH! If you can't win fairly, kick the guy's leg off." Riley says sarcastically. "That's some champion we've got!"

 

"There's nothing 'unfair' about kicking someone in the knee."

 

"Like there's nothing unfair about injuring Todd Royal?"

 

".....What's that got to do with anything!?!"

 

Now Maddix is in excruciating pain, selling his injury like a Portuguese soccer player...not that anyone in the arena would know about that either. Still, he continues to clutch his limp limb in anguish, while the USJL Champion strolls over to the corner and lounges back against the softly padded turnbuckle pads. His relaxed attitude is in stark contrast to Landon's pained expression, as he pulls himself to his feet with a grimace. So, West is again called to action, walking over to the temporarily disabled Disciple, taking him by the arm and irish whipping him towards the ropes...

 

 

GAAAAAAARRRRLHHHHHH!!!

 

...but Landon's knee buckles, and he collapses much before reaching his destination.

 

Worriedly Ced rushes over, and checks if Landon is okay to continue as Coy strolls over and again manhandles Ordonez out of his way. He gets to land a stomp before Ced walks back over and pushes the six foot sixer away from Landon, imploring him to stay away while he checks on Landon's condition. But that crazy Coy doesn't listen, moving back over and this time forcefully moving the referee aside, before grabbing Maddix...

 

 

*CHING!*

 

...but gets a forearm to the little Coys~!

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

"LOWBLOW!" howls Cyclone. "That's utterly reprehensible!"

 

"Ok, ok...calm down Comet. It's not like he just robbed an orphanage or something. It was just a punch in the balls..."

 

"Which in wrestling is illegal!" Cyclone again howls, clearly unhappy.

 

"Then Coy shouldn't be shoving referees then, should he!"

 

 

...

 

 

"HA! I love it when I win!"

 

By now, the USJL Champ has collapsed to the mat in a heap of eye-watering, masculine agony...while Maddix has found his feet. Granted, his knee is hurting. But it's not nearly as bad as he made out moments earlier, as he quickly points out to a few less than supportive fans at ringside with a grin. Appeased, Maddix now turns to Coy and kicks him hard in the back before shuffling over to the corner, and encouraging the current USJL Champ to get back up. Coy slowly begins to do as asked, as Landon looks out to the crowd, and holds one arm in the air...

 

 

*STOMP!*

 

 

*STOMP!*

 

"Oh YES~! It's time to tune up the choir Comet!" gleams Bobby Riley.

 

 

*STOMP!*

 

*STOMP!*

*STOMP!*

*STOMP!*

 

Coy is now up, still holding his nether regions and slightly dis-orientated. Slowly he begins to turn, and stagger over to what he can only see as a figure through his water-filled eyes, as that figure suddenly springs out of the corner...

 

*SMACK!*

 

"SWEET DISCIPLE MUSIC!!!" Riley again gleams, this time with 100% more orgasm.

 

"Coy was busy favouring his...well...his 'area', which meant he couldn't block the kick."

 

Coy collapses once more, as this time Maddix leaps on top of him and frantically hooks a leg...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOONLYTWO!!!

 

 

"YYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

 

Landon clambers to his knees, and glares at his least favourite striped shirt wearer, who holds up two fingers in damning conformation.

 

"Thankfully Coy kicks out, and hopefully can recover from the illegal lowblow."

 

"That was a full two minutes ago...get over it!"

 

The Wild One is still down from the superkick, but trying to get up nonetheless while Maddix watches on from mere metres away. He waits until Coy is back on his feet, before breaking into as much of a sprint as his right knee will allow and hooking West in a side headlock on his way to the corner, which he springs into and quickly back out of with a swinging bulldog to drive West face first to the canvas! The collision between face and canvas leaves West seeing stars, while the one star he can't see quickly exits to the apron and begins a climb to the top rope. Coy seems to be fixed to the mat, unable to move whilst Maddix gets to the top and takes the time to gain his balance before leaving the safe spot on the top, and slowly walking across the ropes. The crowd are on their feet, not for Maddix but rather for his show of athleticism as he continues the walk until he's right by Coy, before springing off for a swanton...

 

 

*CRAAASH!!*

 

...WHICH COY ROLLS AWAY FROM!

 

 

"Todd Damn It!"

 

Landon instinctively rolls over and drags himself up, with Coy reaching his feet moments later in better condition to fight, as he shows by scooping Landon up and planting him with a powerslam. Landon clutches his ribs, as Coy is more concerned with going back for the knee, which he manages to grab before Maddix can squirm away...and with the leg caught, Coy stops and plays to the crowd who are once again rallying behind him.

 

"Landon couldn't keep Citizen West down forever." notes Comet. "And now, it seems like Coy is looking to pick up on the legwork from earlier."

 

Knowing he's screwed, Maddix tries to scramble free from Coy's grasp, which is pretty pointless as Coy has as tight of a hold on the leg as possible. So instead, Maddix pulls his free leg from underneath him and kicks out at Coy...who catches that, and pulls Maddix so he's stacked on his shoulders. Referee Ordonez hesitates, but eventually sees the shoulders down and counts...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

T...

 

 

...Coy suddenly falls back, and slingshots Landon through the air towards the corner...

 

 

...but La Cucaracha is able to land on the middle rope, stopping himself from crashing into the corner. As far as Coy is concerned, Maddix has just taken a trip to dream street so he gladly takes his time in turning around, by which time Landon has turned to face into the ring and springs off the ropes. As he flies through the air, Maddix tries to take hold of Coy on his way for the Crash Landon '04, which West obviously knows is coming, as he's able to step to the side at the last second, and help Landon to land into an inverted atomic drop! Landon clasps at his coccyx, as West wastes no time in grabbing The Disciple around the waist, and taking him over with a belly to belly...all of Coy's 256 pounds landing on Maddix's chest, and staying there for the cover...

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE...

 

 

 

NOLANDONGETSTHESHOULDERUP!!!

 

Undeterred, Coy drags the challenger to his feet and nails a big right hand, jolting The Disciple's body...and providing West with enough time to back off the ropes, and aim a leaping lariat at the challenger, who manages to duck. Coy scrambles back around, as Maddix springs off the mat for a Dropsault...only for West to swat that away, causing Maddix to sprawl and fall harmlessly to the mat. Now it's Maddix who scrambles up and back to meet Coy, or more specifically his right hand which knocks him back down.

 

"This match is turning back in Coy's favor, and as such, the fists are a-flying."

 

"Which angers me no end." snarls Riley, as Landon pulls himself back up. "The fact this no-talent hick has to resort to punches, rather than actually wrestle, just about says it all."

 

However, Coy doesn't have to resort to punches...and proves it by grabbing Maddix's wrist and sending him forwards towards the ropes, but not into them before tugging back and jerking Landon into a forceful return. Landon manages to react though, and slide through Coy's legs while maintaining hold of the Wild One's arm as he returns to his feet. Quickly the challenger hooks his arm underneath Coy's other, and looks to take him up for a pumphandle slam...but Landon is unable to lift the USJL Champion on either the first or the second attempt. So rather than waste precious, pointless time on a third attempt, Maddix rethinks his position and lifts up his left leg, placing it over Coy's head before pulling back to groans of pain from West.

 

"What the...I don't have a clue what to call this. It's almost like a pumphandled...octopus hold...or something. Whatever it is, it's certainly innovative."

 

"Certainly. But then again, when you're as talented as La Cucaracha, innovation happens naturally."

 

"Sure..."

 

Coy is now trapped in the doom filled clutches on the challenger, having to withstand the pain to preserve his title reign. But with two hundred ten pounds on his back, and both his neck and shoulders being wrenched in ways they really shouldn't, the title seems to be slowly slipping out of his grasp. Landon obviously thinks so, beaming as he wrenches back Coy's arm to further add pain to the shoulder, neck and abdominals.

 

"The champ's in trouble." Comet points out. "Not only is he in the octopus hold but his other arm, which would usually aid an escape, is being wrenched out of the socket too."

 

 

"LET'S GO CO - OY!!! *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

LET'S GO CO - OY!!! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

The crowd sense West may need some moral boostage, and begin to get behind the Wayward Son, who judging from the look on his face starts to feed off the support. Landon shakes his head, yelling at the crowd to stop, which obviously only makes them louder...

 

...as suddenly, Coy wrenches his pumphandled arm away from Landon and out from between his legs, planting it on the mat and using it to help hiptoss Maddix off the octopus hold! Landon manages to land on his feet acrobatically, but turns and charges straight into a drop toe hold...and no sooner has his face been slammed into the mat, than Coy rolls through with the move, which bends Maddix's leg back in perfect position...

 

 

"STF!!!" Comet erupts, as Coy reaches forward and grabs Maddix under the chin. "This is the move that beat Todd Royal...will it do the same to his Disciple right here!?!"

 

Now it's Maddix who is having to hold on to avoid losing his shot at the USJL Title, with West wrenching back with all he has. To make matters worse, Landon is trapped in the center of the ring, with no plausible chance of reaching the ropes. His only chance of an escape is a reprieve, but Coy isn't going to give it, even though his neck is quite blatantly still bothering him. So now, he has no chance...

 

 

...or so it seems...

 

 

...until that is Megan Skye, seeing her charge's title aspirations withering and dieing, decides the only thing to do is to jump to the apron.

 

"HEY!" snaps Comet. "Get her down from there!"

 

"She's doing no harm..."

 

"She's saving Landon's beaten ass!"

 

It doesn't take long for Ced to spot The Toddess, and stride over ordering her to get back to the floor. Meanwhile, as this distraction continues, Coy is oblivious to what's going on, and continues to wrench back on Landon's head. Unable to move himself and the 250 pounds champion laying on him, Maddix still has nowhere to go, and looks to be giving up hope...

 

 

 

 

*TAP TAP TAP!*

 

 

"LANDON TAPS..." Comet begins to boom.

 

"But Megan still has Boredonez occupied!" observes Riley, deflating Comet. "He's like a 12 year old in a porn store for Todd's sake!"

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

Coy instantly releases the hold, but is soon left to wonder why there's no bell ringing, mass cheering or hand raising goin' down, as there should be. Turning around, he soon finds the reason...Megan and Ced still arguing, with Skye refusing to leave the apron. Angrily Coy kicks out at the air in frustration, realizing his work is not fully done and turning back to Maddix, who is trying to get up. His knee is seemingly shot to pieces, but Landon is still able to duck under West's grasping hands as he gets up and jump onto Coy's back, locking his arms around the throat of the champion!

 

"And that's a choke!" Comet now exasperates. "This is highway robbery that Dick Turpin would be proud of!"

 

"Nonsense...that's a perfect legal move."

 

"His arm is under Coy's chin. Citizen West is turning red for Christ's sake!!!"

 

"He's probably drunk..."

 

Landon starts to twist and tighten his grip, his entire body weight hanging off of Coy neck who is unable to get the necessary oxygen into his drooping six foot frame, and as such is on the verge of collapse. STILL Megan has Ordonez tied up, now holding onto his striped shirt in her desperation for him not to turn around, while Landon is still using illegal tactics. And use them he is, tightening up the slightly-modified rear naked choke which is draining the energy from and slowing down the USJL Champion. His windpipe blocked, Coy is slowly beginning to turn a deep shade or purple, and by now he’s lost enough oxygen to leave him unable to mount a comeback.

 

"LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!"

 

The crowd are fuming at the events they're witnessing, as Coy is unable to stay on his feet and begins to slump almost into himself, until Landon releases and he now cannot avoid collapsing to the mat. West seems dead to the world, as Maddix winks over at Megan which prompts her to finally jump from the apron to the floor, allowing Ced to turn around...and what he sees is a vast difference from when he turned away. Still, he doesn't have a clue what has just happened, so can't do anything to reprimand Maddix.

 

"This is sickening." snarls Cyclone. "I...I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but still."

 

"I don't see your problem. They use that move all the time in Japan...Mexico.....Canada..."

 

"Oh, please Bobby. Please."

 

The smug Landon seems to be even smug than usual, as he pseudo-struts towards the corner and exits to the apron, before making a slow climb to the top rope...each step he takes riling up the crowd even more seemingly. West still hasn't moved a muscle and doesn't show any signs of doing so, as Maddix reaches the top and takes a moment to steady himself before holding his arms aloft...

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

...to the expected response.

 

"Get ready Cyclone..."

 

Riley seems to know what's coming, as does Megan who is gleaming up at Landon...who looks up at the ceiling, before back down at Coy and springing off the ropes...

 

 

 

 

...WITH A SHOOTING STAR PR...

 

 

 

...LEGDROP!?!

 

 

*OOOF!*

 

 

"Sweet baby Jesus and the orphans...Shooting Star Legdrop by La Cucaracha!!!"

 

"No, no Comet..." interrupts Riley. "That's the Drug of Maddixion. And this match is over!"

 

Having landed squarely across Coy's head and throat with the legdrop Maddix has the match won...but is busy tending to his knee, which he has re-damaged with the move. But the smell of gold brings him out of his pain, and gives him the strength to drop into a cocky lateral press...

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

"No, Coy...kick out..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR...

 

 

 

 

"YES!"

 

 

 

"NO!"

 

 

 

 

 

....EEEEE!!!

 

 

"YEEEESSS!!! NEW CHAMPION! BY TODD'S WILL, WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!!!"

 

 

Riley is in near orgasm mode, as the bell rings and N.E.R.D's "Lapdance" hits to a barrage of boos and various expletives from the crowd.

 

 

"Here is your winner...and...NEEEEEWWW...ESS DUBYA EFF UNITED STATES/JUNIOR LEAGUE CHAMPION...LANDON...'LA CUCARACHA'...MAAAADDIIIX!!!!!"

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

Funyon makes his announcement as dramatic as possible...but he needn't worry, as the fans already realize the importance of the result. The boos and jeers begin to wear off and are replaced with stunned silence in most parts of the arena, as the limping La Cucaracha pulls himself up off the mat and is greeted by a glee-filled hug from Megan Skye. Ced Ordonez meanwhile has retrieved the title belt, and passes it in personal shock to Maddix, who snatches it from it and raises it in the air in adulation.

 

"I can't believe I'm witnessing this. What a travesty of justice...Landon Maddix used an illegal rear naked choke. He TAPPED OUT to the god-damn STF! Yet he still won..."

 

"Calm down Cyclone, and EMBRACE our new USJL Champion! Embrace..."

 

Suddenly the celebrations and one-man-beaming praise are halted, as into the ring slides a furious looking Alan Clark, sliding past Landon and Megan who quickly vacate the ring, and storming over to Ced Ordonez to complain about the result. But the decision has been made. Nothing can change it. Landon Maddix finally has SWF gold...and judging from the smile on his face, he could care less about how he won. All he cares about...is the belt...in HIS hands...finally. And as he walks off to continue his celebrations privately with Megan, Alan Clark is left to check on his friend Coy with only one thing on his mind.

 

Revenge.

[the.weej 0]

The outdoor arena takes on a special chill as the night sets in. The steel cage surrounding the ring shines in the floodlamps, having been set up over the break. With the natural light gone, the arena is black once the lights go out. Bright white letters flash on the SmarkTron’s black background, guided by the opening words of Duran Duran's "Notorious."

 

"NO

NO

NOTORIOUS!"

 

That introduction fades into Spineshank's "Synthetic," as John Duran comes through the curtain. Scowling, he looks out at the booing fans.

 

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen,” says Cyclone Comet. “As always, the SWF is bringing you the best of the best, working Chicago-style…”

 

“What?” asks a clueless Bob Riley.

 

“Never mind,” says Comet. “Tonight, we have a special matchup between two former World Champions, and here’s our first of the two inky black EVIL competitors!”

 

“The following matchup is scheduled for one fall,” says Funyon. “It is a submission match, to be conducted in a steel cage! The first competitor, from Champaign, Illinois, and weighing in at 268 pounds… ‘the Notorious’ JOHN DURAN!”

 

Duran doesn’t do his ordinary bullying interaction with the crowd. Rather, he simply scowls, looking focused, as he makes his way to the ring.

 

“Duran is NOT happy about losing the World Title to Danny Williams,” says Riley.

 

Duran gets up on the apron and enters the ring, going to the center of the ring and raising his arms, anger and hate apparent in his eyes, before going to the corner and awaiting his opponent.

 

An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena, and Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” begins to blare over the speakers! The smoke clears, and Tom Flesher walks out in his blue warm-up suit. Next to him is Allison Onita, dressed like every fashionable college girl in the country in a blue tank top, grey fleece sweatpants and blue flip-flops. They walk forward together, fireworks going off in the background. As Allison escorts Flesher, the fans boo them both loudly. Flesher simply shoos them off with a flick of the wrist, and they enter the ring together. The music fades, and Funyon begins his announcement.

 

“His opponent, accompanied by Allison Onita… from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 231 pounds, he is ‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Allison helps Flesher strip off his warm-up suit. Then, he enters the ring and nods to referee Ced Ordonez.

 

“Boy,” says Riley, “is this one gonna be a doozy.”

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

Ced Ordonez backs out of the center as Flesher and Duran meet in the middle of the ring. Flesher steps in, initiating a collar and elbow tie. Duran, though, steps in and throws a knee into Flesher’s abdomen! Tom staggers back, but Duran grabs the back of his head and pulls him into another knee to the gut! He lets Flesher go, then hammers him with a right hand to the face! The Superior One takes a step back, then collapses to the mat!

 

“John Duran opens this match on a tear!” says Cyclone Comet. “After having his title torn away from him by Danny Williams last week, I’d bet dollars to donuts that Duran’s going to destroy Tom Flesher and decimate his chances against Dace Night!”

 

Duran grabs Flesher by the head and, with the anger and hatred showing in his eyes, slams his fist into Flesher’s face again! Flesher backs away, but Duran grabs him by the straps of his singlet. He pulls him forward and punches him again! Flesher looks like he’s about to collapse again, but Duran helpfully holds him up by his straps. He pulls Flesher in and then shoves him back into a corner, where the Superior One slumps against the turnbuckles. Scowling, Duran hits him with an open-handed slap, snapping Flesher’s head to the side and bouncing it off the cage. Flesher looks up with bleary eyes, and Duran responds by crouching down and throwing a quick flurry of body shots! As he throws fist after fist into Flesher’s stomach and ribs, Ced Ordonez steps in to watch in case Flesher wants to give up.

 

“That’s a little premature, don’t you think?” Riley protests.

 

“You can never tell. While Flesher has a reputation for being able to take punishment, I doubt he’s ever taken the sort of head-on, smash-mouth assault for which Duran is no-no-notorious.”

 

“Christ, do you have to try to sell the t-shirts?”

 

“It’s in my contract, Robert.”

 

Duran pulls back and throws another punch, this time aiming for Flesher’s head. The Superior One sees it coming, though, and quickly drops to his knees. As Duran whiffs the blow, Flesher picks his ankle and executes a low single-leg takedown. With Duran on the mat, Flesher sprawls onto him and throws a palm strike that stuns him momentarily. From there, Flesher slams a forearm across Duran’s head and twists it to the side. Then, with the Notorious One pinned on his back, Flesher braces his free arm across Duran’s neck! He arches his back, trying to increase the pressure on Duran’s windpipe and carotid artery!

 

“This could be it!” says Riley. “Flesher hits a takedown and slaps on a mounted choke, and I think this match is over!”

 

“Don’t YOU think THAT’S a little premature?” asks Comet.

 

“Who’s going to beat Flesher on the mat? Not Duran. Duran’s a solid fighter, but this is a submission match… it’s wrestling.”

 

Flesher leans forward, trying to choke Duran out, but can’t manage to slide his other arm under Duran’s neck to secure the hold. Ced Ordonez drops to the mat to see if the panicking Duran wants to tap. After a moment, Duran grabs Flesher with one hand on each side of his ribcage. In a show of strength, he lifts Flesher off his body and throws him over his head! Flesher travels up in an arc, then lands on the mat! He rolls to his stomach as Duran does the same. From that position, Flesher lunges forward and locks his arms around Duran’s head. He then jumps backwards, pulling Duran’s head and extending his body to keep him from building a base. With the former World Champion neutralized, Flesher throws a knee strike at his head. Duran’s body shudders, and Flesher follows up with another knee, and another. He braces on Duran’s head and turns, quickly shifting into a back mount. Then, he straddles Duran’s back and hooks him by the head again, stiff-arming him on the left temple with his right arm!

 

“Flesher fails to get Duran with the mounted choke, but he recovers quickly, and he’s looking for the Superior Stretch Beta that finished Crow just last week!” says Riley. “Duran may be a smash-mouth wrestler, but if Flesher hooks this, there’s no way he’s getting out!”

 

“Showing desperation, definitely,” says Comet. “Tom Flesher is attacking John Duran in whatever way comes to mind, because he knows that the longer he stays in the ring with Duran, the worse his chances get.”

 

“Au contraire,” says Riley. “Maybe – MAYBE – if they’re on their feet, you’re almost right, but the longer Tom Flesher can keep any opponent on the mat, the more he can fatigue his opponent, then the better off he’s going to be. He’s just going all-out to prove a point – he IS the greatest wrestler in the SWF today, even better than the last World Champion.”

 

Duran looks up as Flesher tries to hook his head for a dragon sleeper. Then, before Flesher can secure the hold, Duran grabs his right wrist and pulls him down to the mat! Flesher tries to pull up and hook the dragon sleeper that way, but Duran pops his hips off the mat and nearly throws Flesher onto the canvas! He stands up, dumping Flesher onto the mat like a sack of potatoes. Flesher starts to get to his feet, but Duran quickly puts him back down with a swift knee to the face! Flesher falls onto the mat, and Duran falls forward, dropping a knee with all 268 pounds across Flesher’s chest. Flesher’s legs kick up and he tries to curl into a ball to protect himself. Duran, though, straightens him out, then slides over and mounts him. He throws a right hand, but Flesher slides back and deflects it with his forearms. He hooks one leg over Duran’s, sliding back another few inches. Duran straightens out, and Flesher hooks the other leg, slapping on a body scissors grip!

 

“Flesher gets into the guard position,” says Riley. “This is where Flesher shines. Even when he’s on his back, he’s able to get into dominant position.”

 

“And boy, does he look dominant!” says Comet, as Duran throws another punch that Flesher barely deflects. “I can’t IMAGINE how he’d lose this match!”

 

Flesher, though, uses his superior mat-wrestling knowledge to take control of the guard position. He slides back once again, and as Duran comes forward, Flesher nails him in the forehead with a palm strike! Duran’s head snaps back, and Flesher shrimps out to the side by planting a hip and scooting along on it. There, with Duran firmly planted on his stomach, Flesher is able to switch positions and mount him once again, this time reaching down to hook his head with both hands.

 

“After Duran blocked the Superior Stretch Beta, Flesher’s changing courses,” says Riley. “A straight camel clutch is lower risk, higher percentage, and in a match like this, that’s what you need to focus on.”

 

“You mean in a case where you’re clearly outmatched?” asks Comet. “Flesher doesn’t seem to be able to catch a break tonight.”

 

“Well what the hell do you call this?!”

 

“Temporary.”

 

On the outside, Allison Onita cheers Tom Flesher on as he threads his fingers together under John Duran’s chin. Duran flattens out, keeping Flesher from being able to pull back and stretch him out. Flesher tightens his grip and starts to pull back, his arms obviously being stronger together than Duran’s neck alone. The Notorious One, however, reaches up and tries to peel Flesher’s hands apart. He starts by bending Flesher’s fingers back, and when that succeeds in loosening the grip, he simply yanks Flesher’s hands apart. Flesher counters by trying to grab Duran’s chin again, but Duran throws a back elbow that catches Flesher in the side of the head! Flesher slumps forward, and Duran shrugs him off as he slides out from under the former World Champion.

 

“Truth be told, Robert, I don’t think that the Superior One is going to have any success with John Duran’s neck,” says Cyclone Comet. “Try as he might, he just doesn’t seem to be able to complete an attack, because he’s totally incapable of setting it up on a man of Duran’s size. Besides, Duran’s more interested in beating Flesher to death than grappling with him.”

 

John Duran stands up, looking disgustedly at the heap of cruiserweight bully laying on the mat. He measures Flesher up, then drops another stiff knee onto his chest! Flesher grimaces in pain, but this time doesn’t have the presence of mind to try to defend himself. Duran simply grabs him by the head and yanks him back to his feet. Flesher throws a palm strike, but the Notorious One simply glares and shakes it off. He quickly spins Flesher around and wraps a meaty arm around his neck! Flesher struggles vainly, trying to escape, but Duran pulls him closer and throws his other arm across his forehead, locking his lower hand in the elbow to tighten the grip across the neck! Flesher, panicking, charges to the ropes. Duran pulls him back, dropping to one knee to try to drag Flesher to the mat and ground the sleeper. Flesher manages to snag the top rope, though, and keep from being pulled back. He leans forward, fighting to get to the corner, trying desperately not to get choked out as Duran pulls back on him. In desperation, Flesher grabs the ropes on each side of the turnbuckle and holds on for dear life. Duran, seeing that he needs to adjust his position, follows Flesher into the corner. With the pressure off, Flesher discreetly puts a foot on the bottom buckle. As Duran follows him in, he quickly climbs up to the top buckle and leans backwards! He pushes off the cage with his boots and flips back, taking Duran to the mat! Duran, caught off-guard, still holds the sleeper and gets taken to his back with the roll! As he hits the mat, the impact forces him to release the sleeper, and Flesher quickly backs away! He drops to one knee in the center as John Duran shakes off the impact and starts to get to his feet.

 

“Tom Flesher takes an old-fashioned counter out of mothballs,” says Riley. “You might remember that as the way he defeated William Hearford at Genesis IV, minus the cage.”

 

“It didn’t, of course, end the match here, because Flesher was fighting to escape the hold rather than to pin his opponent,” says Comet. “Flesher is fighting impotently against the Notorious John Duran, much like a black-hatted cowboy fights against the white-clad armies of JUSTICE~!”

 

Flesher stays on one knee, catching his breath for a second and allowing the blood flow to his brain to resume. Duran stands up and makes his way toward Flesher, a lumbering giant possessed by hatred over losing his title. Flesher looks up as Duran stalks toward him, but before he can unleash his anger on Flesher, the Superior One stands up and catches him under the chin with a shotei! Duran’s head snaps back, and he stops in his tracks as Flesher backs away and crouches into his stance. He lunges forward, nailing Duran in the gut with his shoulder as he hits a blast double-leg takedown! Duran collapses to the mat, the wind knocked out of him, as Flesher drops down again to try to catch his breath. The crowd boos as Flesher stalls for time, but Allison Onita cheers him on and encourages him to keep the pressure on.

 

“Flesher’s taking advantage of one of the few places he’s superior to Duran in this scenario,” says Riley. “He can’t beat Duran hand to hand, because there aren’t any rules to constrain that big lug. No, Flesher’s just that much faster, and knows that much more about how to neutralize a bigger man.”

 

“Unfortunately,” says Comet, “he’s not succeeding in getting Duran into anything that will make him submit. He’s stunning him, and putting him in excellent position for a pin, but that and fourteen ninety-five will get him a copy of Southeast Asia’s favorite superhero’s last movie on DVD… available now on TheSWF.net.”

 

As Flesher gets back to his feet, the stunned Duran starts to sit up. Flesher grabs him by the arm, though, and makes sure that he’s exactly in control of which way the angry giant goes. He pivots and sends Duran straight into the cage wall! The Notorious One hits the steel chain link and staggers backwards, where Flesher is waiting with a palm strike that nails him in the back of the head! Duran slumps forward onto the ropes, and Flesher grabs him by the arm. He escorts Duran into the corner and slams him against the buckles, then adds another shotei to the jaw for good measure.

 

“The smoggy grey haze of defeat in progress is clearly settling over Tom Flesher,” says Comet. “Where he ordinarily would attack with a backhand or a bootscrape, here he’s aiming to make actual impact rather than psychological progress.”

 

“Listen, what did I tell you about doing play-by-play?”

 

“That was color, Robert. Didn’t you hear me? It’s a GREY haze.”

 

“God, some days I’d KILL to have Stevens back.”

 

Flesher, regaining his wind, holds Duran by the wrist and whips him once again, this time sending him across the ring to the diagonal corner. He stays in the corner, and as Duran hits the buckles, Flesher follows him, and then makes contact – he hits Duran in the face with a sickeningly stiff Yakuza kick! Duran’s head snaps back, and Flesher bounces back, recoiling from the force of the strike. Duran slumps into the corner, and Flesher shakes off the recoil and regains his footing. He grabs Duran by the arm and pulls him away from the ropes, then bends him to the side. Hooking him by the shoulder, Flesher locks him into a loose abdominal stretch, then steps in and grapevines his leg. With Duran being stretched, Flesher switches his grip on the arm. Instead of holding Duran by his shoulder, he bars the arm and starts to attack a facelock, looking for a stretch plum!

 

“If Flesher gets the Held Without Bail stretch plum, Duran’s as good as dead!” cackles Riley. “Come on, Taamo! Show him what you got!”

 

Duran panics, knowing that he has one more chance to block the standing variation of a hold that Flesher has only applied on the mat. He reaches back, hooking Flesher’s head before the Superior One can sink the facelock to tighten the match-ending hold. Then, with an incredible expenditure of power, Duran cinches a headlock and takes Flesher over his hip and to the mat! Allison Onita groans and covers her face as Flesher hits the mat, and Duran backs away. He waits for the staggered Flesher to start to get to his feet, and when he does, Duran grabs him by the head. He slams Flesher face-first into the cage, making the whole set-up rattle! Flesher falls backwards, but Duran slams him into the cage again, and again! Flesher’s eyes roll back into his head as Duran picks him up and bodyslams him into the cage wall, then lets him fall in behind the ropes!

 

“And John Duran, the unspeakably cruel and unusual leader of the Unnamed, is taking control once again!” says Cyclone Comet disgustedly. “I have to admit, Robert, I’m enjoying this match, as two of the most heinous evildoers in the SWF today are going to every length to destroy each other.”

 

“Well, they’re trying. Flesher’s the only one succeeding,” says Riley.

 

“Are you watching the same match I am?”

 

Trapped upside down, Flesher slithers under the rope into a heap. Duran snarls and kicks Flesher in the head, then drags him out from under the ropes. He pulls him back to his feet and slams his face against the cage one more time. This time, though, he doesn’t let Flesher back away. Instead, he presses Flesher’s face against the cage and pulls him across, almost like he’d ordinarily do a rope burn! Flesher screams out loud, then falls backwards holding his face. He convulses on the mat, shrieking in pain. Duran grabs him and pulls him back to his feet, then smiles evilly. He holds the limp Flesher up by his head and shows him off to the crowd, pausing in front of Allison Onita, so all can see the blood gushing from Flesher’s face.

 

“John Duran is in control,” says Cyclone Comet, “thanks to the bloodlust he shares with few others, save Dace Night. Speaking of Night, Flesher should get used to this sort of treatment if he expects to stand up to Dace Night. Watching this match, I’m stunned as to how Flesher could put forth ANY claim to the SWF World Title now held by a man who beat John Duran soundly.”

 

“It wasn’t sound!” cries Riley. “Danny Williams never would have beaten Duran if it weren’t for those damn elbows! Why doesn’t he have to wear pads?!”

 

“Should Tom Flesher have to wear boxing gloves to temper the force of his palm strikes, Robert?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s apples and oranges, you stupid spandex monkey!”

 

Ced Ordonez steps in, checking to make sure that Flesher is still coherent in spite of his blood loss. Flesher, though, answers clearly, before Duran takes him to the corner. Duran shoves Flesher into a seated position, then drives a knee into his gut to stun him! With Flesher out, Duran plants his knee on his cheek. Then, with an ugly smirk, he scrapes the knee across Flesher’s face! The crowd boos, but Duran follows that up with another knee scrape, earning another hearty round of boos!

 

“There we have a bit of poetic justice for the self-professed Superior One,” says Comet smugly. “He’s having his face scraped the way he’s done to countless other opponents, but he can’t take it.”

 

Duran backs away, preparing for his equivalent to Flesher’s running bootscrape. He springs forward, then jumps up to drive his knee into Flesher’s face! The Superior One drops to the mat, though, and rolls away! Duran hits the cage knee-first and falls down, clutching his knee!

 

“And THAT, my friend, is why only Tom Flesher does things that Tom Flesher does,” smirks Bobby Riley. “He’s got the timing, strength and agility necessary to do those sorts of things, and Duran just doesn’t.”

 

“And none of that means a thing if Tom Flesher isn’t able to take advantage,” says Comet.

 

Flesher, not exactly fresh, backs away as Duran holds his knee. He stands, watching as Duran tries to shake off the impact of the blow.

 

“Duran’s feeling the effects more than others might,” notes Riley. “He knows so well how to use knee strikes, and so all that extra impact was absorbed by his body instead of by Flesher’s. He’s in a lot of pain right now.”

 

Nonetheless, Duran starts to get to his feet. Flesher immediately angles toward him, leading with his right leg. Duran doesn’t even see the first kick coming as Flesher slams the toe of his boot into his quad. Flesher continues the assault, slamming boot after boot after boot into Duran’s thigh. John steps forward, throwing a right hand at Flesher, but the Superior One feints backwards before attacking Duran’s leg with another flurry of kicks! Frustrated, Duran tries to dodge a thigh kick by swinging his leg back out of the way. Flesher sees him telegraph it, however, and switches the kick to a footsweep that takes Duran’s supporting right leg out from under him! The Notorious One collapses to the mat, and Allison Onita cheers!

 

“Look at the precision Flesher’s attacking that knee with,” marvels Riley. “He saw an opening and he’s attacking it… finally making some progress, not just hurting Duran but robbing him of his offense.”

 

Duran gets back to his feet, but can’t do a thing before Flesher crouches down and snags his ankle in another low single-leg takedown. Duran spills to the mat, and Flesher stands back up. He drops an elbow into the side of Duran’s knee, popping it nearly out of joint as he falls to the mat! Before Duran can counter with a body scissors grip, though, Flesher gets out of the way and goes to the corner. Duran struggles to get to his feet as Flesher watches him closely. As Duran finally gets up, Flesher sprints at him and blindsides him with a Yakuza kick! Duran collapses to the mat with a thud, and Allison Onita nearly orgasms with delight.

 

“And John Duran is down, once again,” says Cyclone Comet. “Still, Tom Flesher is putting Duran in position to be pinned, not to submit or pass out. He’s not focused, because he can’t figure the Notorious One out.”

 

Flesher, meanwhile, grabs Duran by the hair and drags him over to a corner. His chest heaving, Flesher finds himself unable to lift the much larger Duran to his feet, and so Flesher opts instead to climb to the top rope and wait for Duran to get up on his own before attempting the Ego Trip. He holds Duran’s hair, making sure he’ll have the Notorious One in position for the calf branding. Duran, for his part, slowly gets to his feet, but makes sure that as soon as he feels Flesher’s knee planted into the back of his head, he turns to face the Superior One. Flesher, caught by surprise, is easy pickings as Duran hoists him off the turnbuckle and into a gorilla press! He holds Flesher for a moment, but his knee quickly starts shaking and he throws Flesher off. Flesher cries out as he hits the mat, but Duran is too preoccupied with his knee. He quickly flexes and straightens it, making sure he has a standard range of motion. During that time, Flesher starts to get to his feet.

 

“And there you have the sum total of the match,” says Riley. “Flesher gets tossed around a little by a mindless galoot, and then Duran nearly collapses from the cumulative effects of everything Tom Flesher’s done.”

 

“Not quite,” says Comet. “Flesher spent quite a bit of time attacking Duran’s neck fruitlessly thanks to being totally out of his element. Now, he’s finally catching up, but can he make up the ground he’s lost? Duran’s knee doesn’t appear nearly as battered as Flesher’s body.”

 

Satisfied with the strength of the joint, Duran turns back to Flesher, only to see the Superior One back on his feet! Tom looks shaken, but he knows enough to throw a palm strike to try to distract Duran. The Notorious One, however, slips to the side and dodges the palm strike, then steps behind Flesher! He attempts to lock on a full nelson, and immediately Flesher dives for the ropes to keep himself on his feet. Despite the lack of a rope break, Flesher uses the ropes to keep his balance and for leverage to keep Duran from locking his hands in the full nelson. Instead, he executes a modified standing switch, peeling the hands apart behind his head and limp-arming to escape. With his back to Duran, Flesher knows he needs to do something spectacular to protect himself… so he quickly pivots and nails Duran in the face with a spinning palm strike! “OH MY GOD,” shouts Riley. Like a giant redwood being chopped down, Duran collapses to the mat in one fell swoop and lands on his back! Allison excitedly cheers her man on as Flesher grabs Duran’s leg and starts to apply a spinning toehold! He turns around, looking for the figure-four… but Duran kicks him away! Still in a haze, Duran acts on instinct, and Allison groans, nearly collapsing from disappointment.

 

“How do you expect Tom Flesher to overcome this?” says Comet. “His rolling shotei couldn’t put Duran away, despite Danny William’s rolling elbow doing the job last week, and he’s just not strong enough to get Duran in a submission!”

 

Duran lazily sits up, and Flesher determinedly moves toward him. He hooks the kneeling Duran by the head and applies a front headlock, then quickly leaps into him! Seizing the moment, Flesher wraps his legs around Duran’s chest and secures a body scissors grip, trapping him in Wet Cement! Allison screeches her approval as Ced Ordonez drops down to check Duran’s consciousness.

 

“Is this it?” shrieks Riley. “Does Flesher have him locked up?! I think so! Wet Cement, baby, you don’t get out of that!”

 

Flesher cranks Duran’s head, trying to choke him out with the front headlock while making him carry an extra 230 pounds. The look on Flesher’s face shows nothing but determination as his eyes show through the crimson stain on his face. Duran, though, strains to escape. He tries to break the headlock, but fails… he tries to peel Flesher’s scissors grip apart, but can’t. Finally, he does the only thing he can.

 

 

He stands up.

 

 

“Dear god,” yells Riley. “Look at the strength on him!”

 

Nearly out of gas, Duran stands up. He staggers a bit as Flesher’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t know what to expect. Duran, just wanting to escape the hold, backs up about three feet from the cage and then arches his back! Performing a Northern Lights suplex variation, he throws his body backwards and slams Flesher face-first into the cage! As the crowd bursts into a “HOLY SHIT!” chant, Flesher releases the hold and collapses on the mat. Once again, his wound opens, and the blood begins flowing anew. Still, Flesher shows Ced Ordonez that he’s satisfactorily conscious, and the match continues.

 

Duran takes a moment to shake off the impact, then grabs Flesher by the head. He stands up, with Flesher bent over in a standing head scissors, and holds his arms out in the crucifix position. The fans begin to boo as they realize he’s about to go for the Ultimate Sin crucifix power bomb.

 

“And this is it,” says Cyclone Comet. “John Duran isn’t bothering with submission holds he’s not used to using, and he’s suffered when he’s gone for the full nelson and the sleeper. Now, he’s just going to knock Flesher out and collect his check.”

 

Duran bends down, grabbing Flesher by the chest. Flesher drops to one knee, sandbagging to counter. Duran tries harder to lift him, but Flesher hooks his ankle and sweeps his other leg out from under him! In one fluid motion, Flesher takes Duran to the mat and crosses his ankles! Before Duran can do anything to stop him, Flesher steps over, and he locks on the Superior Stretch! Allison goes apeshit on the outside as Flesher steps back, increasing the angle of the hold with every step! Duran grimaces, trying desperately to break out of the hold. He tries to kick his legs forward, but Flesher has him bent so badly that he can’t get the leverage to break the hold! Finally…

 

 

TAP TAP TAP!!!!

 

 

Ced Ordonez calls for the bell!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

Flesher realeases the hold as Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” blares over the speakers! Duran’s legs crumble to the mat as Ordonez raises Flesher’s arms.

 

“Your winner, ‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRR!”

 

“And that’s that!” says Riley. “Duran couldn’t get Flesher, and didn’t set up his power bomb properly. If he’d bothered to do any research on Flesher, he would have known that Frost and Taylor Thompson couldn’t power bomb him and got caught the same way… why did Duran think he could?”

 

“Still, Duran showed guts and tenacity today,” says Cyclone Comet. “He lost a tough match to Danny Williams, and in the wake of that, a similarly tough match to Tom Flesher. He’s not licked by any means.”

 

“Oh-ho, I beg to differ,” snickers Riley.

 

Flesher exits the cage and steps to the floor, where Allison raises Flesher’s arms. His face, covered in blood, shows nothing but exhaustion, not even the usual happiness at winning the match.

 

Duran, for his part, is angry and bitter. His scowl shows frustration with himself and with the federation. He knows he can win the title back… but he won’t get a chance to if he keeps getting thrown in over his head.

 

“We’ve got to take a commercial break,” says Comet, “but when we come back, Nathaniel Kibagami! Toxxic! Next!”

[the.weej 0]

The camera focuses in on Ben Hardy – and next to him, a very, VERY intense-looking Nathaniel Kibagami.

 

“Ben Hardy here, standing by with Nathaniel Kibagami.” Hardy swallows hard, the sweat on his forehead standing out underneath the camera lights. “Mr. Kibagami, you’re moments away from a number-one contender’s match with Toxxic – a man who has beaten you before. The winner of this match will determine the first challenger to Danny Williams’ title – what is going through your head right now?”

 

The River Dragon hesitates for a moment before he answers – but only for a moment.

 

“Honestly, Ben, I’m still thinking about something Toxxic said the night he beat me. He said, “Silent and Kibagami are not the same person”. I don’t know who told him that, but he’s sadly mistaken. Rest assured that I am the same man who built Silent’s reputation. I am the same man whose name was once synonymous with ‘psychotic’. I am the same man who beat Edwin MacPhisto. And Toxxic...he seems to need a reminder. So tonight,” hisses Kibagami through clenched teeth, “Tonight I will do my best to remind him.”

 

The River Dragon stalks away, intent on his match. Hardy wipes his brow and sighs (perhaps a sigh of relief) before turning back to the camera.

 

”Strong words from Nathaniel Kibagami heading into our main event! Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen! Toxxic vs. Nathaniel Kibagami is coming up next!”

[the.weej 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our MAIN EVENT! This match will determine the number one contender to the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!”

 

The California crowd roars their approval, nearly drowning out Funyon as “We Still Kill The Old Way” begins to blast over the speakers. The guitars shred through the warm night air as the words “Prepare To Be Proved Wrong” appear on the Smarkstron, towering three stories over the crowd.

 

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! You’re just in time for our main event! As always, I’m Bobby Riley, and to my left is the overly loud – “

 

”CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!”

 

BOOOM!!

 

Comet’s announcement is punctuated by the arrival of the Straight-Edge Sensation through a wall of red pyro, his girlfriend Jet in tow. The main riff of the song hammers along as Toxxic makes his way towards the ring – Jet proudly carries his ICTV title belt over her shoulder.

 

“Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds and hailing from Nottingham...he is being accompanied by Jet, and he is the ICTV champion...TOXXXXXXIC!”

 

”This match is of tremendous import, Bobby! The nefarious Toxxic has taken offense to citizen Nathaniel’s charge at the World title, given his victory over the Silent One prior to Battleground! He laid out a challenge on Lockdown that Kibagami accepted, and commissioner Zenon has taken it upon himself to make this match the determining factor in who will receive a shot at the new World champion, Danny Williams!”

 

Toxxic stops a short distance from the ring, cracks his neck and mutters to himself – the ringside mics can’t seem to pick it up. Jet puts a hand to his face and whispers something in his ear – presumably words of encouragement, or perhaps dinner plans for afterwards.

 

“This match seems like a foregone conclusion to me, Comet. Toxxic punched holes in all of Kibagami’s defenses barely three weeks ago and spiked him in the center of the ring with the Caffeine Bomb! He’s been on a tear since he got here, and I don’t see him slowing down for somebody as broken-down Nathaniel Kibagami.”

 

Toxxic charges into the ring, climbs up onto the turnbuckles, and throws his trademark “X” up to a round of boos from the crowd. Jet carries the ICTV belt over to the timekeeper’s table, where she gently sets it before pulling Funyon’s chair out from under him and having a seat.

 

”We’ve written citizen Nathaniel off before, Bobby, and we’ve been wrong every time. Kibagami has shown a new sense of direction and focus since his victory at Battleground, and I don’t think Toxxic is prepared for the Silent One at his peak!”

 

Bobby snorts. “At his peak, maybe, but this isn’t his peak. He’s won a grand total of two matches thus far in his current run – against the commissioner and a rookie. Toxxic has been defeated a small handful of times in three months, and he’s positioned to become the number one contender to Danny Williams’ title. Do you really think Kibagami can compete?”

 

”He gave Toxxic a run for his money last time, Bobbi.”

 

”You told me you weren’t going to call me Bobbi.”

 

”And I overheard you telling Tom Flesher that how tight his singlet is doesn’t affect your Flesher Per Minute formula. People say a lot of things, Bobbi, but they don’t always mean them.”

 

Up on the Smarkstron, a familiar excerpt from the Art of War appears:

 

Of old the skilled first made themselves invincible

to await the enemy’s vincibility.

 

Invincibility lies in oneself.

Vincibility lies in the enemy.

 

Thus the skilled can make themselves invincible.

They cannot cause the enemy’s vincibility.

 

Thus it is said, “Victory can be known. It cannot be

made.”

 

-the Sun-Tzu, Chapter Four.”

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

The distortion hits, and the arena lights up – every available spotlight is trained on the entrance ramp. White blasts of pyrotechnics streak up, down, across the arena, back and forth along the ramp, sending sparks spiraling everywhere. The Smarkstron flickers one final time, and the image changes – the burning ankh, gigantic, red, consumed by flames, towers over the audience, three stories tall...and the first line of the song echoes out over the crowd.

 

Today, the warning came in the floooooooood...

 

A final burst of white pyro shoots up from the center of the entrance ramp, temporarily blinding the audience to the curtains behind. The effect is not as powerful in the wide-open arena, but it still blinds the audience long enough for Nathaniel Kibagami to come striding through the sparks, already bearing down on his opponent standing in the ring.

 

“And his opponent...”

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

“...weighing in at two hundred and sixty-one pounds...”

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

“...hailing from Phoenix, Arizona...”

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

 

“...NATHANIEL KIBAGAMI!”

 

 

The river dragon has come – souls wash away...

The earth has spoken, and taken them to their graaaaaaves...

 

The sunglasses are a dead giveaway, but for those who miss the glasses, the trenchcoat is even clearer. The chants have not been this accurate for some time. Nathaniel Kibagami has not taken kindly to Toxxic’s words, and perhaps the Straight-Edge Sensation has finally bitten off more than he can possibly chew.

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

Silent has come to fight tonight.

 

“Citizen Kibagami was not joking, Bobbi! It’s been some time since we’ve seen him come out wearing Silent’s trappings – a powerful statement by the Slaughterer regarding his intentions tonight!”

 

Kibagami approaches the ring, but Toxxic looks even less impressed than Bobby Riley. “So he put a trenchcoat on and he’s wearing sunglasses at night. That doesn’t make him a badass – it makes him a poor man’s Andrew Eldritch. That’s not going to intimidate somebody like Toxxic – look at his girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. Let’s see how he does in the ring.”

 

The Silent One ascends the turnbuckle, his trenchcoat catching the glare of the arena’s spotlights as they shine down on the ring. He extends his arms in the familiar crucifix pose, basking in the adulation of the fans for the briefest of moments –

 

– and a dropkick from Toxxic sends the Slaughterer careening over the top rope and out to the floor!

 

“How dastardly, attacking a man from behind! It’s…it’s unjust, Bobby, that’s what it is!”

 

“Eh, you do what works, Comet.”

 

”Building a Pepsi MAX© morphing combat robot works. And you can attack the villain head-on with it!”

 

DING DING DING!

 

”…fine. That’s...that’s just fine. You do that, then.”

 

Kibagami topples over the apron and crashes to the mat, his trenchcoat awkwardly wrapped around him. Back in the ring, Soapdish admonishes Toxxic, who only gives the referee a passing glance as he sprints towards the opposite end of the ring.

 

The River Dragon makes it to his feet, trying to shake the cobwebs out of his head after his rather graceless tumble – he looks up and sees Toxxic sprinting towards him. Kibagami makes a beeline for the steel steps as the Straight-Edge Sensation reaches the ropes...and leaps onto the top rope, remains perched momentarily, then backflips into the center of the ring, inspecting an imaginary watch as he lands!

 

“Toxxic isn’t content to gain the advantage through criminal means – he has to mock his opponent as well!” huffs an indignant Comet.

 

“You’d love the Catalogue Poses if Edwin was the one doing them.”

 

”Edwin MacPhisto posed for justice. Toxxic is posing for a woman with pink dreadlocks. I think that’s an important distinction.”

 

The California crowd expresses their distaste for the Catalogue Poses, hurling empty beer cans at the ring en masse as Toxxic strokes his nonexistent goatee. Jet’s applause from ringside only spurs him on, however – Toxxic is perfectly content to ignore the rest of the arena, his hands on his hips and a painfully wide grin on his face.

 

On the outside, Kibagami angrily whips off his trenchcoat and slips purposefully back into the ring, only to be met with a hail of boots as the Straight-Edge Sensation abruptly breaks from his posing to assault River Dragon before he can gain a vertical base. A pair of particularly rough stomps at the base of Kibagami’s neck stuns the larger man long enough for Toxxic to grab a handful of his hair, pull him to his feet, and whip him towards the ropes.

 

The Silent One easily reverses the Irish whip and sends his opponent careening across the ring, only to be caught flush in the mouth with a spinning heel kick from the agile youngster as he comes barreling back towards the center of the ring!

 

“Toxxic doesn’t want to get tied up on the mat with Kibagami – he’s going to utilize his speed and agility to stay one step ahead of the big lug.”

 

Kibagami crashes to the mat, but Toxxic is quick to pull him back up to his feet – the ICTV champion begins firing off stiff European uppercuts, pressing his advantage and driving the River Dragon back.

 

“Or perhaps he’ll foolishly try to outbrawl citizen Nathaniel...like he’s doing right now.” Comet’s words ooze sarcasm.

 

“Well, he’s doing fine with it so far. He’s well-rounded.”

 

A final uppercut seems to daze Nathaniel, and Toxxic tries to whip him towards the turnbuckles – but as he grabs hold of Kibagami’s arm, the Silent One fights back, roughly pulling Toxxic’s right arm in towards him and pivoting to the right as he drops to the mat, looking to cinch in a Fujiwara armbar in the middle of the ring!

 

“Well-rounded, maybe, but not as experienced as the Silent One!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation is ready, however – it only takes him a moment to regain his poise before rolling through the deadly maneuver and latching onto a front facelock while Kibagami is still down on the canvas!

 

“Yes sir, he’s definitely well-rounded! Toxxic’s learned a few tricks since his last encounter with Kibagami – he’s not going to fall for the same move twice, Comet!”

 

The River Dragon adeptly twists his way out of the facelock, pulling Toxxic’s arm along with him into a hammerlock and Toxxic suddenly finds himself face down on the mat as Kibagami drives a hard knee into his bicep. Another searing jolt of pain shoots up his arm as the Silent One finds his mark again, and it jolts Toxxic into action – he lurches upwards, surprising Kibagami with the suddenness of his resistance and quickly gaining his feet.

 

A blind elbow thrown at where Kibagami’s head should be misses, so instead Toxxic scrapes the heel of his boot down the Slaughterer’s shin – it loosens Kibagami’s grip on the hammerlock just enough for Toxxic to turn around and take Kibagami up and over with a quick Japanese armdrag. Nathaniel scrambles to his feet, disoriented for a moment, and Toxxic charges in –

 

– into a hard knee strike as the River Dragon surges forward to meet him, and the Straight-Edge Sensation is doubled over by the blow! Kibagami grabs hold of the smaller man’s right arm and quickly takes him down with a nasty-looking arm screw, hooking a short-arm scissors with his right arm and leg almost as soon as the ICTV champion hits the mat. Kibagami idly kicks at Toxxic’s head with his free leg as Toxxic squirms and writhes, trying desperately to find a way out of the hold.

 

“Now the criminal is in a ponderous predicament!” Comet beams, just as proud of his alliteration as he is Kibagami’s wrestling acumen. “The last place you want to be against Kibagami is on the mat with one of your arms exposed. Citizen Nathaniel will take that arm home with him if Toxxic can’t figure out a way to divert the River Dragon’s attention!”

 

Kibagami breaks the hold, allowing Toxxic a brief moment to try and massage the feeling back into his arm...before grabbing hold of Toxxic’s arm with both hands, propelling himself into the air, and driving all of his weight down onto the champion’s elbow with a devastating kneedrop! An involuntary shout escapes Toxxic’s lips – the Silent One grins sadistically and grinds his knee from side to side, doing as much damage as he can to the Straight-Edge Sensation before the referee forces him to relent.

 

“Soapdish certainly let that continue long enough,” sneers Riley with thinly-veiled disgust. “A match to determine the next challenger for the World title is no place to be lax with the rules.”

 

”Bobbi, you discard any vestige of professionalism when Flesher bootscrapes some poor soul.”

 

”The bootscrapes are an integral part of Flesher’s offense. Kibagami, on the other hand, is just being mean in there.”

 

Toxxic clutches desperately at his arm, trying in vain to soothe his seizing muscles – he’s in no condition to prevent Kibagami from hauling him brusquely to his feet, cinching in a waistlock, and slamming him back to the canvas with a picture-perfect gutwrench suplex! The Slaughterer hooks his opponent’s leg, making sure to grind his forearm against the bridge of Toxxic’s nose as he pushes the smaller man’s shoulder to the mat –

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation is quick to roll his shoulders up from the mat – it will take much more than this to keep him from the World title.

 

“See what I mean, Comet? Kibagami’s being criminal. You hate that, right?”

 

Comet draws himself up in his chair, doing his best to look haughty and arrogant. “Toxxic has shown no respect to citizen Nathaniel – he’s merely responding in kind. Clearly, you possess no real understanding of Justice In Action.”

 

Undisturbed by Toxxic’s resilience, Kibagami quickly transitions into a front facelock, cranking back on Toxxic’s already damaged neck. Toxxic tries to counter the hold in the same fashion as his opponent did a few minutes earlier, but the River Dragon is simply too strong for the smaller man to break his iron grip – Kibagami can maintain this hold as long as he chooses.

 

“And speaking of Justice in Action! Kibagami grounds the nefarious Toxxic with his trademark front facelock! One has to wonder how long Toxxic’s neck can hold up under such conditions after the hellacious beating he took at Battleground!”

 

Satisfied that he has slowed the Straight-Edge Sensation’s dervish-like offense substantially, the Slaughterer hoists the ICTV champion to his feet and whips him towards the turnbuckles. Kibagami charges in, intent on flattening the smaller man with a Yakuza kick – but Toxxic leaps onto the top turnbuckle and bounces back, catching the River Dragon by surprise with a leg lariat! Both men crash to the canvas amidst the roar of the crowd – Toxxic is the first one to his feet, and he stumbles over to Kibagami to pull him up as well.

 

The Silent One shoves Toxxic away as the Straight-Edge Sensation looks for a collar-and-elbow tie-up and fires off a vicious knife-edged chop, but Toxxic ducks the stinging blow, steps behind the Slaughterer to hook a hasty rear chinlock, and pulls Kibagami down to the canvas with the Underkill!

 

Toxxic reaches forward and hooks Kibagami’s legs, pinning the River Dragon’s shoulders to the mat –

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Toxxic winces a little as Kibagami kicks his legs away from the hands of the ICTV champion, but he remains undaunted – Toxxic quickly regains his vertical base and plants an elbow drop on the back of Kibagami’s neck as the River Dragon attempts to roll to his feet. The Silent One is stunned for a moment, but a moment is all Toxxic needs to hook his feet underneath Kibagami’s arms and lean forward, pinning Nathaniel’s shoulders to the mat with a Gedoh Clutch.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kibagami is quick to escape the pinning predicament, but Toxxic remains a step ahead – he makes it to his feet before Kibagami has time to defend himself and plants a quick dropkick on the River Dragon’s chin, sending him sprawling back to the mat. Toxxic grabs hold of the Silent One’s left arm and spins into an armbar cradle, pinning the River Dragon yet again – this time with a La Majistral rollup!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR – Kibagami kicks out and rolls back towards the ropes, a little disoriented and clearly taken aback, having been pinned three different ways in about thirty seconds. He pulls himself up to his feet, leaning on the ropes as he catches his breath, but Toxxic is already on top of him, rocking the Silent One with a stiff left to the jaw!

 

“Toxxic taking the fight to Kibagami now with a flurry of rollups – he’s learned that he can’t outwrestle the Slaughterer, but he can easily use his speed to stay a step ahead.”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation follows with a right, a left, a right; he backs up a step or two, leaving Kibagami on the ropes, as he winds up for the clothesline that will send the River Dragon over the top –

 

BAM!

 

– and is floored instead by a massive Burning Lariat from the Slaughterer!

 

“But can he recover when citizen Nathaniel inevitably catches up with him?” Comet grins impishly at his companion, who is suddenly very quiet.

 

The California crowd pops like a cherry on prom night (copyright Tom Flesher 2003) as Kibagami’s massive left arm slams into Toxxic’s petulant mouth, flooring the Straight-Edge Sensation and dropping him to the canvas like a stone!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR – a dazed and confused Toxxic rolls his shoulders up from the mat just in the nick of time, drawing a round of boos from the fans (and a barely audible smattering of cheers from the heel section.) Kibagami remains calm and composed as Toxxic lies half-conscious on the mat – he hastily shifts position up to Toxxic’s head and slaps on a triangle choke, wedging the champion’s right arm and jugular vein against each other and cutting off the supply of oxygen to the brain! The crowd begins to buzz as Toxxic flails in vain, slowly fading away as Kibagami cinches the hold tighter and tighter...until Jet rushes over and drapes Toxxic’s foot on the bottom rope, much to the dismay of everyone in the audience!

 

“CRIMINAL!” shrieks Cyclone Comet, and Riley winces as he does so.

 

“Toxxic had nothing to do with that! She did it of her own accord! It’s outside interference! It’s a draw! It’s not a disqualific – oh, he didn’t see it? Nevermind me, then.”

 

Soapdish quickly looks towards the ropes, but Jet is already on her way back to the timekeeper’s table – all he sees is Toxxic’s foot on the ropes, and he immediately forces the Silent One to break the hold. Annoyed with the referee’s inability to catch Toxxic’s valet in the act, Kibagami jerks the still-gasping straight-edger up by his right arm, nearly yanking it out of the socket in the process. The Slaughterer locks Toxxic’s elbow with his other arm and falls backwards, taking the Straight-Edge Sensation down to the mat with a single-arm DDT. The damage the Silent One has done thus far is obvious to everyone watching the Smarkstron – Kibagami has to pull Toxxic’s left hand off of his limp right arm in order to pin both his shoulders properly.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR – Toxxic kicks out, taking care to roll his left shoulder off the mat this time. Undaunted, Kibagami pulls the champion to his feet and whips him towards the ropes, charging in after him for another Burning Lariat – but the Straight-Edge Sensation ducks the Silent One’s outstretched arm and hooks a neckbreaker in the process, using his own momentum to carry himself around into the Rock City Drop!

 

“BEAUTIFULLY done! There’s the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

NO!

 

The River Dragon rolls out of the pin at the last possible moment, eliciting a sigh of relief from the crowd. Frustrated, Toxxic stops for a moment to argue the count with Soapdish – who is far from intimidated by the Straight-Edge Sensation and simply points him in the direction of the Silent One. Toxxic pulls Kibagami up to his feet –

 

CRACK!

 

Nathaniel shoves Toxxic away and fires a snap kick into the smaller man’s right thigh! Toxxic winces as Kibagami lines up another –

 

CRACK!

 

– directly into the ribs of the ICTV champion!

 

“You can’t ever forget about citizen Nathaniel’s most lethal limbs!” crows Comet.

 

“He’s just stunned! He’s fine! He’s going to counter the next one! Counter the next one, goddamn it!”

 

The crowd is rabid; Kibagami’s kicks echo out across the arena and whet the fans’ appetite for violence. Toxxic doubles over and the Silent One aims a third kick directly at his head...but Toxxic rolls out of the way! The fans’ cheers are thwarted as Kibagami turns around into a sharp facecrusher – Toxxic hastily slaps on a front facelock and pulls Nathaniel down with a DDT, completing the Sobering Thought!

 

“I told you so! Toxxic is amazingly well-rounded for someone so young – he’s proved more than a match for Nathaniel thus far!”

 

Ignoring the welts rising on his thigh, the Straight-Edge Sensation quickly leaps onto the second turnbuckle –

 

“MONDO!”

 

– the top turnbuckle –

 

“AKIMBO!”

 

– and vaults backwards, scoring another blow against his opponent with a beautiful triple-jump moonsault!

 

“AGO-GO!” The heel section of the crowd finishes their chant, oblivious to the jeers and catcalls coming from the rest of the arena.

 

Toxxic doesn’t bother with a pin attempt – he knows that the moonsault won’t be enough to put Kibagami (or is it Silent?) down. Instead, he pulls the River Dragon to his feet and shoves him into the corner and begins unloading with a serious of vicious European uppercuts and devastating knife-edged chops.

 

WHAP!

 

SLAP! (WHOOOOO!)

 

WHAP!

 

SLAP! (WHOOOOO!)

 

WHAP!

 

SLAP! (WHOOOOO!)

 

Kibagami’s chest is reddened from the assault, and Toxxic takes the opportunity to springboard off the second rope and wrap his legs around the Slaughterer’s neck, looking to connect with one of his trademark springboard hurricanranas –

 

 

BAM!

 

 

...but Kibagami steps out of the corner and sits out, sending the Straight-Edge Sensation plummeting to Earth with a vicious sit-out powerbomb!

 

Bobby Riley sits in stunned silence, trying to process what has just happened. Comet, on the other hand, nearly leaps out of his chair in excitement!

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...]

 

”ZOUNDS! What a maneuver from the River Dragon! He may yet cleanse Toxxic from the afflicted circular system of the SWF!”

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

Comet’s terrible humor jolts Riley back into action. “Christ, man. Do you get those out of a book or something?”

 

Kibagami pushes himself up and turns to cover Toxxic for what is likely the academic pin, but the ICTV champion has wisely rolled out onto the apron, where Jet is frantically trying to revive him. A smirk visible on his face, the Silent One casually boots Toxxic out onto the floor, sending the straight-edger’s valet scampering for the safety of the timekeeper’s table.

 

The River Dragon pulls back the mats surrounding the ringside area, exposing the pavement underneath. He pulls Toxxic to his feet (and has to struggle to do it – the smaller man is almost dead weight) and drives him back down to the cold pavement with a Russian legsweep!

 

“Kibagami is absolutely demolishing Toxxic on the outside! But he can’t earn a pin outside of the ring –he’s got to get the criminal back inside!”

 

Kibagami lays on the pavement for a moment, ignoring the referee’s count, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in his back – the legsweep nearly knocked the wind out of him, but Toxxic has clearly received the more unpleasant end of things. The Slaughterer pulls Toxxic to his feet and rolls him back into the ring.

 

The Silent One follows his opponent in and leisurely kicks at the smaller man’s exposed ribs. The look on Kibagami’s face is one of absolute confidence – he knows a match-ender when he sees one (or feels one), and he knows that Toxxic cannot recover from this.

 

Ignoring his opponent for a moment, Kibagami kneels in the center of the ring, withdraws a small black marker from his boot, and draws a very prominent “X” on the canvas.

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

“Goodness gracious! We all know what that means, citizens – Kibagami is signaling for the Demonstar Driver!”

 

“Good luck hitting it – Toxxic’s never going to hold still that long, especially not if Nathan’s going to telegraph the move that way. Get a clue, old man.”

 

The River Dragon basks briefly in the chants he has become accustomed to in recent weeks before turning back to his opponent –

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kibagami kicks out abruptly, furious with himself for losing focus, but by the time he reaches his feet, Toxxic is already behind him, pulling him down and pinning him to the mat with a simple schoolboy rollup!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Another kickout and Kibagami is back to his feet like lightning, getting angrier by the moment – but the Straight-Edge Sensation will not be denied, and he vaults onto the Silent One’s shoulders looking for a hurricanrana!

 

“A desperate flurry of offense from the ICTV champion – but he doesn’t seem to be stemming the tide of justice...IN ACTION!”

 

”You know, if it would get you to retire, I’d buy your movies. I really would.”

 

“Quiet, Bobbi! There’s a match to call!”

 

Nathaniel manages to stop Toxxic’s momentum and tries to pull him into position for another powerbomb, but Toxxic simply spins around on Kibagami's shoulders and allows his own weight to pull the Slaughterer down into a victory roll!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kibagami kicks out and practically flies up to a vertical base – the Silent One is absolutely livid, and he looks ready to kick a hole straight through his opponent’s chest...but Toxxic is on his feet as well! Kibagami fires off a hate-filled chop –

 

SLAP! (WHOOOO!)

 

– and Toxxic responds in kind!

 

SLAP! (WHOOOO!)

 

SLAP! (WHOOOO!)

 

SLAP! (WHOOOO!)

 

“Zounds!”

 

SLAP! (WHOOOO!)

 

“I think I felt that one.”

 

SLAP! (WHOOOO!)

 

CRACK-CRACK!

 

A double kesagiri chop from the River Dragon sends Toxxic reeling and Kibagami presses the advantage...but the Straight-Edge Sensation takes him by surprise with a quick sitout jawbreaker! Nathaniel backpedals, his jaw sore and his ears ringing, and Toxxic is quick to take advantage – he charges in from the Slaughterer’s side, grabs a hasty rear facelock as he swings around his opponent’s body and slams Kibagami’s neck down onto his shoulder with the Straight Edge neckbreaker, nearly tangling himself in the ropes in the process!

 

“And there’s the opening Toxxic’s been looking for! That bad neck of Kibagami’s can give out at any moment – if Toxxic can stay focused on that, he’ll put this match away in no time!”

 

Toxxic stumbles backwards into the ropes as he rises to his feet – the “X” he throws to the sky with both arms seems a little shaky. He climbs out onto the apron and leaps onto the top rope; he has no time to spare and he’s running out of options, so he has to make this move count...

 

The ICTV champion somersaults forward through the air, legs locked, sights set on the prone River Dragon as he comes plummeting down with a shooting star leg drop, driving his right leg down on the throat of the Silent One!

 

“INGLORIOUS! Thank you, drive through! All Toxxic has to do is pin him and he’s got the win!”

 

The crowd explodes despite itself, whipped into a frenzy at the sight of such a spectacular move. Toxxic draws a pair of ragged breaths and rolls over to drape his arm over the chest of his opponent –

 

But Kibagami isn’t there.

 

Toxxic forces himself to his feet and looks out over the ropes – Kibagami is outside the ring, trying to force himself up. The crowd is rabid now, and the chants are louder than they’ve ever been.

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation makes a beeline for the opposite side of the ring, intent on the man outside on the floor. As Kibagami struggles up to his feet, trying to regain his balance and a sense of where his opponent is, Toxxic launches himself over the top rope and comes crashing down on Kibagami with a picture-perfect somersault plancha!

 

“Toxxic is getting more and more desperate – he can’t seem to keep citizen Nathaniel down!”

 

”He’s not desperate – he’s high-impact! It’s all part of his plan!”

 

His arm is on fire, his neck aches, his back is screaming – he might’ve clipped the apron on the way out. Regardless, Toxxic does not slow down – he pitches Kibagami back into the ring as fast as he can and climbs back onto the apron. He’s lost his best shot and he knows it; he doesn’t have enough left in the tank to pull off another Inglorious. His arm, while not terribly injured, is limiting his options. He’s running out of energy, and that means he’s running out of time.

 

Toxxic tries for a slingshot senton, but Kibagami rolls out of the way just in the nick of time. The Straight-Edge Sensation manages to roll through the senton and up to his feet, however, and just as the Silent One regains his footing, Toxxic snaps him back down with a crisp ‘rana rollup!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO!

 

Kibagami escapes at the last possible moment, and the crowd draws breath once again. Toxxic pulls the River Dragon up to his feet, desperately trying to figure out what he can do to –

 

CRACK!

 

“The sound...”

 

CRACK!

 

“...of justice!/i]

 

“Oh, shut up. Jesus.”

 

Two hard kicks from the Slaughterer nearly take Toxxic’s right arm off at the elbow, but the third misses – Toxxic takes Kibagami’s vertical base out from under him with a quick soccer tackle, sending the larger man crashing to the canvas!

 

Kibagami tries to stand, but his left leg is numbed; Toxxic easily pulls him up by the hair and drags him to the center of the ring, where a large black “X” sits ominously.

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation tries to heave Kibagami up onto his shoulders into a fireman’s carry. He’s been hurt worse than this; his arm has been hurt worse than this. The Caffeine Bomb is all he’s got left. He has to his this. There’s nothing else –

 

He lifts Kibagami onto his shoulders for a moment, and the audience holds its breath.

 

But it only lasts for a moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Silent One slides down behind the Straight-Edge Sensation and hooks a waistlock. Kibagami used to have one of the best bridging Germans in the business. That’s behind him now – his neck simply won’t allow it.

 

But he can still heave a 220-pound man a considerable distance.

 

BAM!

 

“Zounds!”

 

Toxxic lands squarely on his shoulders a few feet beyond the “X” in the center of the ring. Kibagami shakes the sweat from his eyes and turns his attention to the his prone opponent. He turns Toxxic onto his back; the crowd roars his name, but the Silent One is focused solely on the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The crowd is in disbelief, but Soapdish insists that Toxxic’s shoulder was up before the three!

 

”I must admit that Toxxic is showing a surprising amount of fortitude thus far, Bobbi!”

 

”He’s a fighter, Comet! He’ll find a way to win no matter what – he’s beaten Kibagami before, and he’ll do it again!” Riley’s words sound decisive, even convincing, but the voice delivering those words seems less than confident.

 

Kibagami is surprised at the kickout, but he’s far from helpless; he pulls the Straight-Edge Sensation up to his feet – and he is surprised by the European uppercut that nearly shatters his jaw! Toxxic is fighting back, driving the Slaughterer towards the center of the ring with the European uppercuts that have become his trademark.

 

“A burst of energy from Toxxic, but there doesn’t seem to be much behind his criminal blows – methinks the end is near for the Straight-Edge Sensation!”

 

Sure enough, Kibagami catches a stray uppercut and whips Toxxic into the turnbuckle; the champion vaults onto the top rope, and the River Dragon drops to his stomach to avoid the oncoming blow...and when it doesn’t come, he scrambles back up to his feet...

 

“Role Reversal! Toxxic’s got another trick or two up his sleeve –“

 

Toxxic comes off the top, looking for a top-rope hurricanrana that will send the Silent One flying across the ring as he wraps his legs around the throat of the former Clansmen...but Kibagami manages to stop Toxxic’s momentum as the Straight-Edge Sensation leans back, catching Toxxic’s arms with his own at the elbow. He tries to struggle, but Kibagami’s grip is sure. He knows that he has the match, now.

 

Toxxic feels his opponent take a step backwards...then another, and another.

 

He doesn’t need to look down to know that he’s in the middle of the ring.

 

 

 

BAM!

 

 

 

Dead center.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

”Your winner by pinfall...NATHANIEL “SILENT” KIBAGAMI!”

 

Kibagami slowly, carefully rises to his feet as Soapdish raises his arm in victory – this match has taken more out of him than he’d like to admit. He makes his way over to the turnbuckle and climbs to the top; he looks out over the arena as he raises both his tattooed arms, and he knows that tonight he has finally earned his place.

 

“An impressive victory for Nathaniel Kibagami! He triumphs over Toxxic with the Demonstar Driver and moves on to face Danny Williams for the World Heavyweight title!”

 

”I don’t understand why they allow him to use that damned move!” Riley simply shakes his head, distraught with the outcome of the main event. “That’s what’s really criminal, Comet. It really is,”

 

”Shut up, Bobbi! Tune in next week, ladies and gentlemen! This is CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET, signing off!”

 

In the ring, Jet is trying to aid Nick Soapdish in sitting the Straight-Edge Sensation upright. Toxxic’s valet and girlfriend is visibly upset – Toxxic’s neck was not at 100% coming into this match, and there’s no telling just yet if he’s been injured. The EMTs have not been called just yet – but there are waiting in the wings, should they be needed.

 

Nathaniel Kibagami makes his way back out of the arena as the California fans chant his name one more time. He knows that on Storm, he will face one of the largest challenges in his career. He knows that he’s gained a reputation as a choker. He knows that Danny Williams will fight tooth and nail to hold on to the title that he’s only just won.

 

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

 

And for the first time since his return a month ago, he seems to know that he can win.

 

The camera captures one last shot of Silent’s face before the screen fades to black.

Edited May 11, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

Yeehaw.

 

Sorry for the lateness, kids, but... y'know. It's, unfortunately, how we end up working most of the time.

 

Good show altogether. Not a lot of promos, but the matches there are great. There's more than a couple of surprises in here, and the main event is excellent. I have a few things to say about it myself, whenever the comments thread goes up...

 

Expect a card eventually. I don't have a real solid idea of what I should be doing with this next show.

 

-Z