Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 *BANG* *BANG BANG BANG* *ON THE DOOR BABAY~!* "Ladies and gennlemen, welcome to the greatest show in the history of the wrestlin' bid'ness, SWF STOOOOOOOOOOOORM~!" "Peons." "I'm Longdogger Pete, alongside the Suicide King, and we've been told that there's going to be a very special guest coming out at the top of the show to welcome us into a new year of Storm... but where is he?" "I'm sure he's coming, Pete. But you're ignoring everything happening tonight... Sacred versus Landon Maddix, where Revolution Zero will reclaim their gold! Johnny Dangerous versus Austin Sly, where Austin Sly..." "WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE!" "WE'VE GOT FUN AND GAMES!" The crowd goes APESHIT (pun intended), as none other than the king, Neilsen of the Mother Fucking Jungle, steps out from behind the curtain, a business suit replacing his traditionally ragged attire. He looks uncomfortable in the suit, but as the crowd roars his name he eases up, sliding into the ring and standing, raising his arms and basking as the crowd roars in delight! "NE - IL - SEN! NE - IL - SEN!" "Neilsen of the motherf**kin' Jungly, King! Neilsen, the king of hardcore wrestling!" "Yeah yeah some guy." "What could he possibly want on Storm?" "He's obviously going to tell us, twitbrain. Shut the hell up." Neilsen grabs a microphone, raising it to his lips and looking out at the crowd. He smiles. "Hey, motherf**kers!" "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "NE - IL - SEN! NE - IL - SEN!" "Hey, shut the f**k up, I've got f**kin' business to get to!" The crowd, unsurprisingly, gets even louder, the censors at FCC working overtime as Neilsen continues. "Now, after watching Smarkf**kin'down, and seeing motherf**kin' Tom Flesher in the f**kin' ring talking s**t about f**kin' hardcore wrestling, I said to my f**kin' self, "Neilsen, you gotta motherf**kin' stand the f**k up, and you've gotta take some F**KIN' ACTION! And after talkin' to C to the motherf**kin' C, they told me that tonight, on SWF motherf**kin' STORM FROM THE JUNGLE, you're going to see some f**kin' action!" The crowd lets loose with a loud "F**K YEAH!", and from his spot in the announcer's booth, King cringes. "First things motherf**kin' first. I see we've got Landon motherf**kin' La C*ckaracha Maddix and Sacred -- motherf**kin' Sacred! -- in a World title match. What the f**k is that s**t? We need somethin' f**kin' big, it's the World f**kin' title! So guess what? You guys' match is a motherf**kin' street fight!" "F**K YEAH!" "This is f**king ridiculous," mutters the King. "And what's this s**t I see? Todd Cortez, hardcore motherf**kin' champion, not even defending his godd*mn motherf**king belt? That's f**kin' bulls**t! Tonight, Cortez, your belt is ON THE MOTHERF**KIN' LINE and there's no rules in your f**kin' match!" "F**K YEAH!" "IN FACT, that s**t goes for all f**kin' matches tonight! There's no f**kin' rules tonight! Toxxic/Manson? No f**kin' rules! Dangerous/Sly? No f**kin' rules!" "F**K YEAH!" "He can't do this!" King sputters. "I'm hearing word that he can, King," Pete says. "And this is one historic night in the history of our bid'ness, if this is true!" "And FINALLY... I hear there's a motherf**ker makin' a comeback." THe crowd quiets, not sure who Neilsen might be talking about. "You motherf**kers know who I mean... Dace motherf**kin' Night, the High Priest of Horrorf**kin'core!" "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "DACE F'N NIGHT! DACE F'N NIGHT!" "Well if Dace f**kin' Night is the high priest of horrorcore, then on STORM FROM THE MOTHERF**KIN' JUNGLE, he needs to f**kin' fight! So tonight, Dace f**kin' Night, against... hm... "HOLLYWOOD" S**T JENKINS..." The crowd roars, salivating over the matchup... "In a 420 LIGHT TUBES MOTHERF**KIN' DEATH MATCH!" "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "Do they even know what a 420 Light Tubes match is?" King asks. "Who cares," says Pete. "RAAAAAAAAAH!" "That's f**kin' right... Smarkdown is for p*ssies! Storm's where the motherf**kin' action's AT!" "Welcome to the Jungle" starts up again, and the crowd in Atlantic City roars as Neilsen throws his mic out of the ring, sticking around for pictures as we fade to the card, and commercials... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 (edited) AND THE CARD! SWF STORM, FRIDAY, JANUARY 14TH LIVE FROM THE TRUMP PLAZA IN ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY! The SWF continues its march to Clusterfuck, a mere four shows away, with SWF Storm, live from the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City! Sacred, rolling after a couple of big wins against Martial Law members, will finally get his shot at the gold against Landon Maddix! There's going to be action, fighting, and will The Donald make an appearance? Take a seat on the couch and watch SWF STORM! It's not like you have to work tomorrow -- YOU'RE FIRED! WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP STREET FIGHT Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix (SWF World Heavyweight Champion) v. Sacred -> Sacred. Sacred, Sacred, Sacred. After the Seven Minute Challenge match on the 1/5 edition of Lockdown, Sacred had secured himself a World Heavyweight title shot, and seemed to be looking for some momentum heading into his battle with Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix, the World champion. So naturally, Sacred went out and beat to Alan Clark, Landon's former rival and current partner in crime in the Martial Law stable. Semi-interesting, no? Furthermore, Toxxic gave Sacred an ultimatum on Smarkdown -- either you're with us, or you're not with us, but you better not even think of fucking with us. The stage is set, as Sacred, his alliances unknown, goes up against Landon Maddix, who will want to put the Sacred chapter of his title reign to bed. Permanently. Rules: No rules, falls count anywhere. This shit's from the streets, yo. Word Limit: 7000 Marker: Ace309 HARDCORE MATCH Johnny Dangerous v. Austin Sly -> Guess who's back! Austin Sly made his return on Smarkdown, and he appears to be a lost, bitter soul. Damn. So CC, nice guys that they are, decided to throw him to the wolves, and for his return match Austin Sly will face a three-time tag champion, a former World champion, the man that co-main evented Genesis V, Johnny Dangerous! Luck? Sly's going to need a lot more than luck... Rules: No rules, falls count anywhere 420 LIGHT TUBES MATCH Dace Night v. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins -> Dace Night made his triumphant return just two shows ago, and now he's out for blood -- Toxxic's blood. Tonight he's not going to get that chance, but special guest Neilsen of the Jungle made sure that Dace would get a chance to spill some Rev-0 blood, giving the High Priest of Horrorcore longtime nemesis "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins in a 420 Light Tubes match! Well, at least part of the stip favors Spike... Rules: There will be exactly 420 light tubes spread out around the ring, and these will be the only legal weapons in the match. Have fun. SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez (SWF Hardcore Champion) v. Dominic Korgath -> The quiet, calming force. The glue that holds together the edges. Neither of these is a very good nickname, but both apply to Todd Cortez, who may not be the leader of Martial Law, but is most certainly the peacekeeper of Martial Law. He also happens to be the SWF Hardcore champion, and he's putting it on the line against none other than the man who got bitch-slapped on Smarkdown by Wild and Dangerous, Dominic Korgath Rules: No rules, falls count anywhere. BREAK SOME NOISE. HARDCORE MATCH Toxxic v. Manson -> It's clobberin' time. Rules: No rules, falls count anywhere TAJ MAHAL DEATH MATCH Alan Clark v. Carnage -> Lovebird meets bad man, as Alan Clark, the enigmatic third member of Martial Law, faces Carnage, the enigmatic masked guy who's apparently also a psycho Russian who's also apparently in love with a tiny Japanese girl. Not only that, but now they FIGHT... on the floor of the Trump Taj Mahal casino! This reads like a script for a D-level horror movie. Hopefully the match doesn't read as such. Rules: No rules, and you're fighting in a casino. Edited January 15, 2005 by Chuck Woolery Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 (edited) “Money…it’s a gas…” Fans are welcomed back to Storm with the sounds of Pink Floyd and the sights of the casino floor of the Taj Mahal Casino in beautiful Atlantic City! Back in the arena, LDP and Suicide King are rip roaring and ready to go! “WELCOME BACK TO STORM!” Pete screams, his voice cracking in the middle, “And up first tonight is something that my partner will surely find to his liking…a CASINO BRAWL featuring Martial Law’s own Alan Clark taking on the monster Carnage!” “Let’s take some bets, Pete. I bet when Carnage knocks Clark’s head off it travels at least eight feet.” “That is not a bet I want to be making, King! Let’s go down to the casino floor now where one of our many special guests for the evening is standing by!!” Pete turns it over to former SJL MEGASTAR….TokyoX, who stares off into the flashes of lights around him. From behind the camera, a little bit of coughing is heard, and X spins around like a dervish. ”wah wah wah WAH” “What is this…the Peanuts?” comes King as TokyoX blurts out… “You mean I actually have to INTRODUCE these guys?! Yeesh! What more are you people going to ask of me!!” X turns around and finds a microphone sitting on a barstool, which he grabs and holds to his mouth. (Static) “WAH WAH!!” “Oh, right…too close to the mic. Sorry out there.” X continues as Pete can be heard slapping his face in humiliation along with King’s giggling. “Anyways, tonight there is going to be a big Casino Brawl here somewhere, and here is the first guy…. Uhmm…masked guy…shit…” “WAH WAH WAH WAH!!” “I mean…SHOOOOOT. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Uhmm…Uhhhh…” “Someone needs to keep up on the programs…” King mentions, and finally it seems a cue card is placed down for TokyoX to read, as his eyes suddenly drop nearly to the floor. “Please…Welcome….Carnage…Parenthesis…Say Loudly…” X looks up into the camera and smiles happily at his literacy rate as Carnage comes into frame, his large size dominative over the small stature of TokyoX. X can only grin. ”Hello. Recent dental work?” Pete nearly collapses at X’s question, which draws only a growl from Carnage. This is enough to turn X’s attention back to the camera, where it seems another card has been set up. “And…His…Op…Oppoooon….Opooo…Wait, I got this one…Opppppooonnnneeeenntt…Alan Clark…Parenthesis…Now Shut Up…” X again gets the grin on his face, but Alan is nowhere to be found. X looks left and right, seeing no one in wrestler gear or any other gear of a fighting nature. Carnage also swivels left and right, and finally…much to his own dismay…the referee of the brawl comes into frame, yelling. “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO FIND BOTH GUYS BEFORE THE SHOW!” “Oh it can’t be…it isn’t…” “Chris Raynor?!!” The former JL Commissioner and Panda Extraordinaire himself, completely decked out in reffing regalia, looks none too pleased with TokyoX’s work. “What…you mean I had to actually FIND them?” Pete and King can still be heard laughing in the booth, but Raynor has other plans… THUD~!!!!! “BAH GAWD! ACID RAYN! ACID RAYN! TOKYOX IS DOWN!” Pete calls out as Raynor leaves X in a heap in the middle of the posh casino with a quickly executed and never better Acid Rayn! Chris then takes the time to brush himself off before turning to the camera. “CLARK! WHERE ARE YOU?” The demeanor of Raynor changes quickly, however, as a quite well dressed butler suddenly appears next to him, holding a small envelope. “Special Delivery for Carnage from Alan Clark. Sign here please.” ”GIVE ME THAT!” Raynor pulls it from the butler’s hands, who scurries away as Chris rips the envelope open and reads the note, a smile forming across his face. He turns to Carnage. “Read this. It’s for you.” Raynor nearly has to hide his face as Carnage grabs the note and reads it aloud. ”Turn Around…. Frost Is Party.” Carnage begins to turn. “What the hell does that…” CRACK! “IT’S ALAN CLARK!! And he just drilled Carnage with that superkick!” Pete yells, but King has disturbing news. “Don’t look now, but the big man isn’t too happy.” And King is right, as Carnage simply shakes off the shot and looks down at Clark, who can only smile and shrug before bursting off through the casino as Raynor call for the bell, currently held by a cocktail waitress. Ding Ding Ding! “Well that sure was an auspicious opening, and now it’s a chase through the crowds! The Donald couldn’t have even twenty minutes of empty casino space for this, so it’s going to be a wild one tonight in Atlantic City!” Pete remarks as cameras placed all around the casino come to life, and the angles begin to change. ”Every security camera in the place is being used for this, as well as our own! We are going to get angles you can’t even see in Bobby Riley’s porn collection!” King laughs as Clark turns down a row of slot machines and looks over his shoulder to find Carnage nowhere in sight. Alan slows to a stop to catch his breath and ponder the mistake of kicking a man with a metal mask protecting his face, but the pondering ends shortly as Carnage appears in front of Clark from the other end of the row, and the two meet in a senior-citizen surrounded clash, as old people pump quarters into machines and fist at one armed bandits like Indian girls used to do in the old west for pennies, immersing the two men in the sights and smells of lights, wrinkles, and Ben Gay as they lock up. “Alan Clark doesn’t have the power to do this kind of thing! He’s gonna get pushed back…and there he goes!” Pete exclaims as Clark is lifted off his feet and onto the shoulder of the big man as he runs out of the row and… CRASH! …slams Alan back-first against another giant slot machine, causing a bucket of quarters to fall and explode, throwing them in every direction. The miserly woman who had the bucket in her hands turns and her purse goes flying, striking the monster over and over as she screams and other seniors scramble for loose change. “YOU BIG APE! LOOK WHAT YOU DID! MY BLOOD PRESSURE IS GOING TO GO THROUGH THE ROOF AND I JUST LOST TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS AND…” Raynor suddenly enters the area, tossing a twenty at the woman and sending her on her way before turning back and scolding the two, who don’t seem to hear him as Clark once more is trying to elude capture. Even with his back in pain, his feet are just as nimble as ever. The Martial Law member fires down another row of machines with Carnage not far behind, but with a railing up ahead Clark sees his escape, leaping up and over the railing and dropping to the lower level and entering the table game area. “That boy sure knows how to be a wuss.” “Alan Clark just put himself way ahead of Carnage now, as the big man just won’t be able to leap that rail!” Pete ignores King’s comments as the masked monster makes his way down the ramp and to the table game area, feverously searching for the elusive Clark, who he finally spots hanging out at the Roulette tables. “Ah…the sweet game of Roulette…” King mutters… “Rule-ette? Is that like Ejiro’s girlfriend or something?” Pete asks, and King has to hold back from slapping his partner. “Put it all on 17!” Clark yells as he throws down a few bucks, only to find heavy breathing on his neck and a hand on his shoulder. “Annie?” Clark questions and turns around, only to find Carnage instead. “Shit.” Clark blurts out and tries to run once more, only to catch the arm of the big man across his chest, putting him down on the ground. Carnage follows with an elbow drop and stays on top of Alan for the cover just as Raynor makes it to the table… One! Tw—NO! “WINNER! 17!” The dealer calls out as he pushes money Raynor’s way. Chris smiles and reaches for it, starting to count it out only to turn and find Carnage standing behind him and holding Clark by the hair. “His.” Carnage points at Clark, and Raynor is forced to hand over the cash. Clark lets out a thanks and places the money in his pants before being lifted off the ground once more and back up onto Carnage’s shoulder. “No More Bets, Please!” THUD! “BAH GAWD, KING!” Pete hollers as Clark is slammed across the roulette table by the masked monster, his body sending chips flying in all directions. “Let’s see that from one of our security eyes in the sky!” King requests, and on screen shows the roulette table suddenly being crashed by the body of Alan Clark as Carnage drives him into the felt. “SIR! SIR! OFF THE TABLE, SIR!” The dealer calls as Carnage places his hand around Clark’s throat and begins choking away. “SIR!” he yells again, causing Carnage to stop and look toward the tiny man in disgust. “Uhm….Sir?” he says again, and Carnage obliges, pulling Clark by the neck off the table and back to his feet before lifting him into the air… “CHOKESLAM!!!” Both announcers yell, but Alan’s foot fires out, catching Carnage in No Man’s Land. Ching! “Ooooo…” LDP cringes. “Oooh…$3.99 Galatea Special, COMING UP!” King calls Carnage instinctively releases the hold around Alan’s neck and places it back on his own special place, leaving Clark to fall to his feet. “You know Clark is going to pay for that in about 8 seconds…” … … … … SMACK!! “I TOLD YOU!” he continues as Clark tries for a run at Carnage, only for the big man’s foot to come up and connect with Alan’s jaw, causing him to flip completely backwards and land on his feet once more. ”He landed on his feet! Did you see that! BY ZUES THAT WAS AMAZING!” “By WHAT?!” “AH! I mean… GOD! I HATE THESE PANTS!!!!” Pete begins fighting with his belt buckle… “NO!” “Oh, right…I mean…Ooooo, that Tom Flesher, what an hot piece of (bleeeeep) he is.” Pete gets dreamy eyes and continues working with the belt buckle. “NO! NO! NO!” “YES! YES! I mean...WAIT! I got it… My name is Ejiro Fasaki. I know many submission…” SMACK! This smack finally comes…straight from Suicide King to the Longdogger… “BAH GAWD!” “Theeeere we go.” King rests easy as Clark thrashes about on the casino floor, a giant boot pressed across his neck, keeping him pinned down and choking. Raynor checks on the shoulders and decides it’s a pinning attempt! One! “No way!” Pete calls… Two! Thre---NO!! “Alan managed to pull the foot from his neck and get himself out of harms way just before the three! This is insanity, ladies and gentlemen!” Pete continues as Clark tries to get up, crawling under a table and eluding the larger Carnage, who can’t bend over fast enough to get hold of the fleeing Clark. “What NOW!?” King asks as the camera angle changes to the other side of the table, Clark still on his knees as Carnage gives chase, but the number of people slows the big man down, putting Clark farther and farther away from his opponent. Referee Raynor tries to keep tabs on the running wrestler, craning to see where Clark has crawled to, but he is nowhere to be found as the sheer number of tables stretches out in front of them. “I’m getting word that nobody knows where Alan Clark is! Not even security!” King mentions as camera angles switch and change around and the sold-out crowd murmurs with anticipation over whether or not the match is going to continue, when suddenly the camera goes inside Xanadu theater, where one lucky off-duty SWF cameraman has found Alan on the floor at the back of the room, the sounds of everyone’s favorite supergroup…the Watson 310 Mafia, are performing for another sold-out crowd plus one WF wrestler. “I love those guys!” Both announcers yell out, then each look sheepishly at each other before the scene changes back to the theater and the doors at the back FLY open, revealing the shadowy figures of Carnage and Chris Raynor, followed by a security guard who points out Alan’s location, leaving Carnage to once again chase after his elusive prey. “ And here we see the dangerous Carnage in his natural habitat…” Pete speaks in his best Jacques Cousteau… “…BROOOOADWAY.” King blurts out, no doubt striking a pose at the announcer’s desk. “Never mind the blithering fool to my right, as the masked man glides down the side of the carpet, trying not to disturb the surroundings…” *cough* “…Oh No! The prey has been frightened by an alien sound, you notice his ears shooting high as his head darts to and fro like a bad disco musician, possibly one of the BeeGeeus Faggotrus or maybe the ever elusive Rumorus Killus AKA The one who died in the middle of “Love Rollercoaster”…” Pete continues as Alan spots Carnage moving his way and rushes for a door, only for the big man to take off with a sprint. “…The prey has been spotted, and sadly there can be but one outcome of this tragic tale of life and death…” CRUNCH!!! “And that is the sound of Carnage’s head nearly caving in from the slam of that door!” King adds in as Clark slips out an exit and throws the door back into Carnage’s face, knocking him back and into a row of spectators, who look to be as clueless as TokyoX himself, though one seems to be JT Playa. “Ah…the prey eludes capture once mo—“ Pete is suddenly cut off. “Clark has spent this entire time just running and running and running like a pansy! He needs to fight or we could be here until Lockdown…in NOVEMBER!” King watches his monitor as Carnage stands and checks the door, making sure Clark isn’t waiting just on the other side. Pushing the door open, Carnage looks back into the casino, but finds no sign of Alan anywhere. Raynor follows, looking in every direction as well, leaving the big man to his own devices for the time being. “Where did Clark go, King?” “You think I know that, junior?” “Well I…” “That man disappears more than David Copperfield. If I see a balloon float through here I might kick a midget.” Sucide King snaps his fingers, and the sounds of a midget being forcefully carried through the crowd and thrown to the booth can be heard. “No balloons, alright?” The midget simply smiles and goes back to trying to follow the action, his eyes not even going over the top of the desk. “Someone get this kid a handheld!” “Unbelievable.” Pete remarks as a camera finally discovers the whereabouts of Alan Clark, sitting perched above the door Carnage exited only moments ago, waiting for his chance to strike. Not even Raynor has bothered to look three feet above the doorframe, but shiny things can be distracting. “How did he even get up there?” “Maybe he’s going to do the world a favor and hang himself!” King’s evilness is interrupted there, however, as Carnage finally turns, his face met with two boots. “Big flying dropkick! Carnage is stumbling!” Pete yells as Carnage falls backwards, barely managing to stay on his feet as Alan rushes toward him, leaping into the air and pushing his feet into the big man’s chest, shoving off hard and flipping backwards through the air, landing perfectly on his feet in the sea of humanity that has gathered around them. “KODAK MOMENT! And the fans have apparently found the action!” “Oh great. That is just what we needed, people wanting to see Alan freaking Clark, that masked weirdo, and Chris Raynor of all people. Where’s that Tokyo guy? He was good.” King asks as Clark bursts forward at the dazed Carnage, only for the big man to fall to the wayside and leave Alan’s body to hit the railing behind him and flip straight over it, falling a good seven feet to the floor below. THUD! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” The crowd reacts as Clark shudders a bit from the pain, but Carnage is unable to get down the ramps to capitalize. Even so, by the time Raynor and Carnage have hit Clark’s crash site, Alan is still on his back, looking up and into the eyes of the masked maniac above him. “Alan Clark is about to learn what real carnage is!!! Oh man, that was so (bleep)ing corny. Okay wait… Alan Clark, your time is nigh!! No no, that really sucked. Who’s writing this crap?” The question remains on everyone’s mind as Carnage reaches down and pulls Clark up to his feet and then into the air, flipping him over and putting him on his shoulder, trying to put him in position for the Tombstone. “Carnage is trying to end it all right here! If he hits this Alan Clark may need more than just mental help!” Pete cries out as Alan fights for all he can to escape, shifting his weight in every conceivable direction. Carnage finally loses it, dropping Clark to his feet and letting him escape the end for at least the time being. Clark seems relieved, but only for a moment, before having the giant left arm of Carnage strike him in the chest, putting him down onto his back once more. “Ouch. I’ll bet Alan Clark’s grandmother felt that one!” “He nearly escaped, only to take a HUGE clothesline that puts him down on the floor once again!” LDP is on the edge of seat… Thump! “OH MY GOD! You did NOT just fall on the floor! You dolt!” The Suicide King cracks up as Pete picks himself up off the floor and brushes himself off, adjusting his headset, and sitting back down. ”Just shut up.” “Bwahahahhahahahahahaha…” The announcers banter causes them to nearly miss a Carnage throw, sending Alan flying over a row of desserts and to the floor once more. The buffet around them comes alive as diners turn to watch the two men, a line of senior citizens once again start complaining as Clark lies at their feet, but by the time Carnage moves in to take advantage, the little guy has disappeared. While the masked monster scratches his chin in wonder, Judge William Hearford can be seen over his shoulder, walking backwards past the railing and helping direct Ejiro Fasaki on a forklift, presumably also headed to the buffet. Retirement rules. “Did you just see what I just saw?” Pete turns to his partner, but King’s eyes are averted to his midget friend, who has taken it upon himself to engage in a little SWF cosplay. ”See what?” “…is that supposed to be JANUS?!” Pete questions as the midget tolls around the ringside area in a small Barbie Pow-Pow-Power Wheel. *whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrr* “I think.” King says, and then turns his attention back to the match just as the forklift disappears, Carnage still hunting for Clark amongst the dining room tables and along the buffet. But a helpful senior citizen gives the behemoth a helping hand, pointing underneath the very dessert cart Alan had flown over top of moments ago. Carnage slowly begins to sneak back up on the cart, and Pete continues with his Cousteau-ocity. “And now here we see the Great White Clark in his final moments of life on our beloved planet, as it comes into contact with unspeakable carnage.” “See! That was good! Why do I get the crappy lines!” King bitches and moans as Carnage throws back the cart’s beautiful satin tablecloth to reveal… Nothing. “WHERE?!” Carnage turns back to the older lady, who just shivers and points. Carnage turns back around to see Clark standing on the other side of the cart, his arms high above his head and his mouth open. “RAAAAAAAHHH!! I’M THE COOKIE MONSTER!” “Pfff…cute.” Cute as it is, Clark can not waste a moment, taking his newly found cookie monster-ness to the next level, throwing a tray of tasty double chocolate chip cookies straight into Carnage’s face. The surprise shot dazes the big man, and Clark takes the opportunity to taste a cookie and then dive over the tray, this time under his own power, and putting himself right in the big man’s masked face. “What the hell is Alan Clark doing! He’s going to get killed acting like that!” “Well, right now he is being lifted about eight feet in the air.” Pete comments as Carnage snaps out of his chocolate chip haze and picks Clark off the ground and up into a military press position. CRAAAASH! “BAH GAWD DID YOU SEE THAT, KING!!!” “Yes I did, Pete. All those desserts just gone to waste thanks to Alan freakin’ Clark!” King’s concern heightens as Clark’s body writhes on the floor, surrounded by destroyed pastries and the cart thrown askew. Carnage’s foot squashes the final slice of Peanut Butter Cup Cake as he reaches through the debris for the head of Clark, now with 20 percent more frosting than before. “…throw in some sprinkles and he’d look like Ryan Seacrest as a hippy!” “What?” “I have no idea anymore.” King sulks, taking a huge swig of his 120 Proof Pepsi Max as Carnage once again hoists Clark up onto his right shoulder, but the frosting and cake has made the situation sticky, gooey, and downright disgusting as Clark is able to get his hand up and throw it into Carnage’s face, blinding him with a white substance that, to the untrained observer, would get the SWF taken off the air for a while, but to the trained chef, it is simply marshmallow fluff. “Fluff to the eyes! Carnage is blinded!” Pete yells as Alan falls to his feet and Carnage fights to get his vision back… SMAAACK! ”ONE HIT KILL! ONE HIT KILL BY ALAN CLARK!” The enziguri catches Carnage in the back of the head and the topheavy superstar can’t correct himself in time as he falls forward and crashes over a second buffet table, this one lucky bolted to the floor. “I would HATE to be cleaning this mess up tonight. *BUUUURP*” King swigs another drink and throws the bottle to the floor as Pete tries to maintain a little bit of reality next to him…. “Carnage in the green beans! I don’t believe it! Clark on the attack with side dishes to spare!” …and fails. Carnage hits the carpet and Alan moves in, but just as he is about to attack a voice echoes from behind him, sending a cold shiver down the spines off all who hear it. “ALAN CLARK! I WILL WRECK…..” “BAH GAWD KING! COULD IT BE! COULD IT BE HIM!” “Oh boy. This could get VERY interesting indeed!” “Bid’ness is about to pick up and possibly even leave town!” “…WRECK…YOUR…STUFF!!!” ZUH? Clark spins around in his shoes to find a very pasty white HVT standing behind him, the face of the man twisted evilly, yet awfully familiar. Stress on the awful. ”NO!” ”NO!” “NOOOOO!” Both announcers trade off the yell as the camera focusing on the giant mammoth of a Thugg impersonator, only to find… Cutthroat. “IT’S THAT STUPID PIECE OF (bleep) A-GAIN?!” King screams as CutVille Thugg bellows, the stilts under the longer pants visible as CVT tries to attack Alan Clark, only for Clark to spin a full 360 degrees, grabbing a weapon of choice (“Christoper Walken!” … “Shut up, Raynor!”) and cracking CVT square in the jaw. CRACK! “He’s stumbling…he’s bumbling…he’s a complete moron…and DOWN HE GOES! FRENCH BREAD THREE, CUTTHROAT ZERO!” Pete keeps score at home, apparently, as Clark tosses the broken French bread into the crowd, presumably to be sold on Ebay at a later date, before turning back to find Carnage… …back up on his feet, and not happy in the LEAST. “Alan Clark became distracted by stupidity, King, and now he has to face down a true giant.” Pete almost breaks up laughing as Clark and Carnage meet each other in punches as Cutthroat crawls away in defeat, a small child punting at his backside. Carnage winds up and gets off a hard right hand to Clark, the impact pushing Clark back and against the railing, pinning him there. “Look at those right hands! It’s like hitting a straw dummy with a tape recorder up it’s (bleep) with a soupbone!” ”Way to go Captain Obvious…is Bewildered at Normalcy Boy around as well?” ”That’s meeeeeeee….I mean, look! Carnage has got Alan Clark in the air once again!” Pete worms his way out of revealing his secret identity as Carnage tries for a third time to end it all with the Tombstone…drawing the cliché out of the Suicide King… “Third time is a charm!!” …but Clark isn’t the most superstitious man, and instead uses the railing behind him as a lovely push off point, kicking off hard and flipping himself forward and out of Carnage’s grip, only to clutch at the masked man’s head as he falls toward the carpet… THUD! “BAH GAWD! MODIFIED SIMPLE FATE INTO THE FLOOR!” Pete screams as Carnage’s face dents the ground and Clark rolls around from the pain firing through his back, but Raynor is there, and with a large group of WF fans, casino patrons, and the Watson 310 Mafia (fresh off stage) gathered around, Clark rolls Carnage onto his back and falls on top of him for a cover… One! Two! Threeeeeeeeeee!!! “NO! NO! NO!” “Carnage kicked out just before the three! Alan Clark thought he had the fight won!” Pete yells as Carnage gets his shoulder up just before the three, and Clark looks like he is about to cry as Raynor tries to tell him the match is still on. Alan punches at the floor, angry, and tries his best to pull the big man back up and try again, this time shoving Carnage’s head down and setting him up… “Yeah right, like this is going to work…” King chuckles. “Alan Clark is going to try and get Carnage up and over for the Aftershock! I don’t know if it can be done in Clark’s weakened state! He’s taken some punishment these last few minutes!” Pete tries to remain more unbiased, but still has doubts as Clark tries to pull Carnage up, but the weight is too much, and suddenly Alan finds two hands wrapped around his legs and his body being lifted off the ground… “See. I told you.” “BAAAAAAACK BODY DROP!” Alan goes airborne, but the proximity to the metal railing pays off, as Clark has no space to flip forward and instead catches himself up on the higher level! Carnage turns, expecting…well…carnage, but instead catches himself a seering kick to the chest! Carnage falls forward, and Alan wastes no time in hooking the behemoth’s arms behind his back and putting him back down in the standing headscissor position. “What NOW?!” King yells, but Clark quickly answers, leaping from the railing and spinning around, falling toward the carpet knees-first… THUUUUUUD! …and driving Carnage face-first into the floor!!! “THE D’YER MAK’ER!!! SHADES OF THE APOSTLE, AND I DON’T MEAN MY OLD XF9 PARTNER!” Pete nearly goes into convulsions as Alan rolls Carnage onto his back and collapses on top of him… “AND THE COVER!” One! Two! Threeeeeeeeeee!!! Ding Ding Ding!! “Jackpot! I mean…WINNER!” Pete continues as the cocktail waitress rings the bell without using her hands, and Clark slowly gets to his feet where Chris Raynor raises his hand much to the delight of the surrounding crowd. From behind the railing, TokyoX has crawled from the matches starting point to the buffet line, where he lays with a microphone to his lips… “Heh…is…yawinananananananana…that guy there…or something.” “Nobody cares. What the hell was the point of that.” The Suicide King remarks as he looks back over at the midget, who is zooming backstage as Storm heads to a commercial break. *whiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr* “Damn, and I didn’t even get to kick the midget.” Edited January 16, 2005 by Ace309 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 “We’re back in the Trump Plaza, and what a night it’s been so far!” Longdogger Pete bellows as the live feed returns to Atlantic City. “Although not quite what we were expecting, this edition of Storm has been full-on and frantic!” “I should have sprung for Raynor’s travel allowance…” King mutters, looking at the meathead beside him. Before LDP can retort, the house lights dim and Mastodon’s ‘Crusher Destroyer’ blasts out over the PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have been informed that the following match is a no-DQ, Falls Count Anywhere match!” Funyon booms. “Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado; he weighs in at 240lbs… MAAAAAAAN-SONNNNNNNNN!!” The crowd reaction for the Hate Machine is indifferent, bordering on downright hostile as Manson stomps down the ramp to the ring, ignoring the crowd as he does so. Normally the crowd in the Trump Plaza would probably be jeering Manson at full volume, but they all saw the card and know very well who his opponent is this evening. Manson rolls into the ring and brushes past referee Ced Ordonez without a glance, heading for his corner where he thrusts both taped fists into the air before turning around to watch the entrance ramp. “Manson of course has had mixed fortunes against Revolution Zero lately,” Pete notes, “as he beat Spike Jenkins for a title shot, only to lose that same title match against USJL Champion Sean Davis.” “Bah. If Manson hadn’t taken advantage of that last-minute EWR stip he’d never have beaten Spike either,” King snorts. Abruptly the Smarktron whites out as the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire crashes over the speakers. The Smarktron swiftly darkens to black, and as it does so the infamous slogan flashes up in jagged, white letters: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ The big screen plays a series of well-remembered clips - the Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, the Caffeine Bomb to Kibagami, the Super Intoxxication on Flesher - before cutting to Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome as blasts of red pyro climb the entrance ramp, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BAM-BAM-BAM-bap-BOOOOM!!* -final stagewide eruption that signals the SWF’s premier straight-edger! For a moment all that can be seen is smoke, but then the familiar spiky-haired figure of the Straight-Edge Sensation strides through with his eyes fixed on the ring! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The fans are definitely not behind Toxxic, and they let the Brit know with all their lungs. Toxxic predictably doesn’t care and pays the baying crowd as little attention as Manson. He rolls under the bottom rope into the ring and stands up into Ced Ordonez. The referee tries to get both men to come and listen to his preamble but Toxxic shoves him aside and flips a v-sign at Manson, who charges straight out of his corner at the arrogant straight-edger! *DING-DING-DING!* Manson swings wildly with a lariat but Toxxic is already ducking his opponent’s opening gambit, and as Manson whirls around to try and keep track of the speedy Brit Toxxic has already started unloading right hands into the Hate Machine’s jaw. The punches rock Manson back but the heavier man seems to be shrugging them off, and seeing this Toxxic evidently decides to change his plan of attack and leaps up to hit his opponent with a dropkick! That floors Manson, but only briefly because the man from Denver pops back up again almost immediately. Toxxic is that bit quicker however, and as Manson regains his footing the Straight-Edge Sensation jumps up again, this time to wrap his legs around Manson’s head and snap backwards with a hurricanrana that sends his opponent skidding across the ring! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Strange how history repeats itself ain’t it King?” Pete mentions. “Toxxic faced Manson twice before one-on-one - once was just after he’d beaten Spike Jenkins, when the Straight-Edge Sensation got the win after a Nathaniel Kibagami video package distracted both men, and the other was a no-DQ Falls Count Anywhere match jus’ like this one!” “Indeed,” King nods, “and it’s worthwhile noting that the clip of Mike Van Siclen in Toxxic’s SmarkTron video comes from that match, that Toxxic won with that move.” “Why’s it worth nothing that?” Pete asks, but King just shrugs. “Well, Toxxic’s more interesting than anyone else we’ve seen so far.” Manson is already starting to get up from the ‘rana but Toxxic isn’t in any mood to let his opponent catch a breather - he gets a quick run-up before slamming a basement dropkick into the side of Manson’s head, knocking the Hate Machine out under the bottom rope to the apron. Manson shows remarkable tenacity and manages to grab the ropes on his way past and prevent himself from falling to the arena floor, but as he hauls himself upright on the apron he leaves himself open for a Toxxic speciality; a springboard hurricanrana from the ring out over the top rope, dumping both men on the protective mats beneath! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” The chant isn’t as loud as sometimes - this is a hardcore night after all - but enough people are still impressed by the Straight-Edge Sensation’s high-flying to give it voice. Referee Ordonez steps out to the apron to follow the competitors before deciding to show off a little on his way down; he jumps to the second rope and performs an Asai moonsault (albeit landing on his feet away from either Toxxic or Manson), and then drops to the floor to make the first count of the match as Toxxic covers his opponent… ONE! TW- -but Manson kicks out just on the count of two, far too tough to go down to such a brief onslaught. Nonetheless he looks a bit dazed, and he doesn’t move off the mats as Toxxic jumps up onto the guard rails and balances for a moment before coming off with a flying fist drop to his opponent’s temple. Toxxic shakes his hand out and looks speculatively at Manson before climbing back to his feet and performing the same move, this time from the apron… then gets up one more time, jumps onto the announce desk and comes off with a corkscrew Hangover, dropping his leg right across Manson’s throat! (“MAAAAAN-SON…”) The chant is faint, but it’s there. “King, can you hear?” Pete looks around in surprise. “It sounds like the good folks of Atlantic City are supportin’ the Hate Machine against the leader of Revolution Zero here tonight!” “That’s what living in Jersey does for you,” King remarks. “Alas, it doesn’t seem the crowd support is stopping Manson from having his ass handed to him.” (“MAAAAAN-SON…”) Manson is still lying on the mats, and although Toxxic is nursing his hip from that harder-than-usual landing on the Hangover he is definitely in control. With that in mind Toxxic scrambles up to the ring apron again, then hops to the second rope and comes off with an Asai moonsault down onto the prone Hate Machine- “OOOF!” -but Manson gets the knees up! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” New Jersey may not quite be ready to fully support Manson but they always love seeing an arrogant straight-edge prick come a cropper on a high-risk move, and the reaction tells! The shots he’s already taken means that Manson can’t capitalise immediately and the Hate Machine merely rolls over onto his front before starting to push himself up, but he has some breathing space as Toxxic is rolling around clutching his ribs. (“MAAAAAN-SON…”) Manson pulls himself up on the guardrail, shaking his head to try and clear the cobwebs that have accumulated during Toxxic’s head-based offence. Meanwhile the straight-edger has managed to gut out the pain and has dragged himself to his feet as well, and seeing Manson vertical once more Toxxic charges in an attempt to put his stronger opponent back down. Unfortunately for the former World Champion Manson sees him coming, and picks him up bodily before dropping backwards and guillotining Toxxic over the guardrail with a hardcore Hotshot! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Oh, so he can do offensive moves,” King says as Toxxic spasms away from his landing position while clutching his throat, “I was wondering.” “What have you got against Manson tonight?” Pete questions. “Quiet moron,” King retorts, waving him away, “it was an offensive move to put you on commentary.” Manson takes a deep breath and shakes his head once more, then turns and begins to advance on the suddenly-derailed Toxxic. The Straight-Edge Sensation is still struggling for breath but Manson doesn’t intend to allow him that luxury, as he hauls the cruiserweight up to his feet before simply wrapping his arms around him, picking him up and driving him down with a brutal spinebuster! *WHAM!* “MAAAAAN-SON…” “MAAAAAN-SON…” The fans in the Trump Plaza now definitely seem to have chosen their side, but if the Hate Machine hears them he gives no sign of it. For a moment the Denver native appears to be considering going for a pin but then he thinks better of it and reaches down to grab Toxxic once more, haul the straight-edger upright and wrap his arms around the Brit’s waist! “He’s going for a German on the mats!” Pete cries in excitement as Manson bridges backwards, releasing Toxxic at the top of the arc to send the straight-edger flying through the air… *whump* …but Toxxic flips out of the suplex in typical Toxxic fashion! His landing is less graceful than sometimes but the agile rookie manages to more or less get his feet under him as Manson starts to scramble up, aware that things didn’t quite go to plan there. Toxxic takes one look at the squat hairy shape tearing towards him and turns to run- “Wait, this isn’t right!” King protests in bewilderment… -but as Toxxic comes up against another steel guardrail he jumps up to it, then vaults back off and twists in the air to take the onrushing Hate Machine down with an adapted Role Reversal clothesline! Both men end up down on the mats, but Toxxic takes advantage of his opponent’s proximity to reach out and start choking his opponent with both hands! Ordonez moves in to start counting before he realises that he is effectively powerless in this no-rules environment, but Toxxic’s stranglehold is compromised as the more powerful Manson desperately pries his opponent’s fingers from his neck! With this option no longer open to his Toxxic pulls his hands out of Manson’s grip, then as the Hate Machine’s own hands fly to his abused windpipe the Straight-Edge Sensation pushes himself up before raking his heel down across Manson’s face! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Well, this is certainly a new side of Toxxic,” Longdogger Pete says in some surprise, “I’ve never seen him take pages out of your playbook before, King!” “When there are no rules, there are no shortcuts,” King says with a satisfied air as Toxxic pauses to flip a v-sign at the front-row fan. “He’s not cheating right now… but just think what a wrestler he could be if he decided to bend the rules in regular competition!” “Last time I thought about that, I couldn’t sleep for a week,” Pete replies dryly. Manson is in serious pain now and seems to be having trouble with the vision in his right eye, but Toxxic unsurprisingly shows no sympathy for his opponent’s plight - after all, he caused it - and grabs Manson’s long hair to haul the heavier man upright. The Straight-Edge Sensation then places him in a front facelock and drops to one knee, crushing Manson’s face with the other, before popping back upright and then dropping backwards with a DDT to complete the Sobering Thought! [b[*CRUNCH-WHAM!*[/b] “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Ignoring the chants of the fans, Toxxic rolls Manson over and hooks the leg for the cover… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Manson kicks out, despite the glare that Toxxic gives Ced Ordonez! With a put-upon sigh the Brit rolls off his opponent, then grabs both of Manson’s legs and jacknifes his body forwards in an attempt to put more pressure on his opponent in the pin… ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Manson kicks out again, violently firing a shoulder off the canvas to deny Toxxic one more time! This time Toxxic doesn’t bother to question Ordonez and instead grabs Manson’s hair to bring the Hate Machine back to his feet. This time Toxxic brings his opponent up to face away from him, then applies a reverse headlock with his left arm. Moments later the former World Champion’s intention becomes clear as he starts trying to hammerlock Manson’s right arm to lock in the Repeat To Fade! “MAAAAN-SON!” “MAAAAN-SON!” Whether the chants have any effect or not is anyone’s guess - regardless, something clicks in Manson’s brain and the man from Denver quickly realises that he’s in a bad situation. Manson fights the hammerlock with all his might, but then takes more direct action by reaching back with his left arm and punching Toxxic in the ribs as hard as he can! The shot momentarily winds the Straight-Edge Sensation and Manson follows up by reaching upwards to grab Toxxic’s head, then drops to his knees and wrenches forwards with all his might. Toxxic stumbles over the body of his opponent, his grip on Manson disappearing as he does so, and can’t bring his hands up in time to prevent himself from crashing headfirst into the steel ringpost! *CLUNK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “He broke the Repeat To Fade!” Pete shouts in ringing tones, “King, there’s fight in this man yet!” Manson is still on his knees trying to clear the spots from his vision, while Toxxic has fallen to his after the impact with the post. The Hate Machine knows that he could be at a pivotal point in the match here and starts to push himself upwards, waiting for the right moment. Toxxic stares groggily at his fingers, now red from the blood that is trickling from the small cut in his forehead, then starts to get to his feet and turns around- *WHAM!!* -and almost gets lariated out of his boots by Manson! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO MAN-SON!” “LET’S GO MAN-SON!” The Hate Machine drops to the mats, hooking Toxxic’s legs and barking gruffly at Ced Ordonez to make the count. The referee obliges and his hand hits the mat for ONE! TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out! Manson grunts in annoyance and grabs Toxxic’s hair, ready to continue his attack on the Straight-Edge Sensation but needing to pause for a moment before he does so. “The fans are now really behind Manson,” Pete laughs, “an’ who’d have thought we’d see this? This just shows King, if you’re really hated then everyone’s gonna gang up on ya!” “I’d say Martial Law proved that theory fairly well on their own,” King mutters as Manson brings Toxxic upright. The Hate Machine then hooks his leg behind Toxxic’s before driving forward with his right arm, almost delivering another lariat as he takes the Brit back down with a hard STO! “Now, I’m wondering why Manson don’t take this back into the ring,” Pete muses as the object of his curiosity pushes himself back up. “This out-of-ring-environment has on average suited Toxxic more so far, being the former Hardcore Champion and capable of improvising with the best of them!” “Granted,” King says, giving half the viewers a heart attack by agreeing with the Longdogger, “but in the ring Toxxic can use the ropes and turnbuckles to emphasise his speed advantage. No, I’m thinking that Manson is screwed wherever this match takes place!” The Hate Machine is looking to prove Suicide King wrong as he grabs hold of Toxxic’s right foot and begins to twist, looking to bring Toxxic over onto his front for the Endsmouth! For a moment the former World Champion fights the seemingly inevitable result of a far stronger man attempting to turn him… but then Toxxic simply draws his left foot back, before driving it forwards into Manson’s gut! The shot knocks the breath from the Hate Machine and Toxxic takes the opportunity to do it again, then gets the hell out of Dodge and leaves the arena floor, rolling under the bottom rope into the ring to catch a break! Ced checks on the former World Champion to make sure he’s fine to continue and is greeted with a sharp swearword, but Toxxic isn’t going to be allowed to abuse referees at his leisure for much longer because the improbably-tough Manson is already pulling himself together. The Hate Machine grimly grabs the bottom ring rope and hauls himself under it, then slowly but deliberately starts to stand. Toxxic eyes him warily as he pushes himself back to his own feet, wondering just how much Manson’s got left, then apparently decides that it’s not much as he moves in for the kill - but is met with a sharp knife-edge chop! *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” *CRACK! “WHOOO!” Two chops later Manson boots Toxxic in the gut and pulls him into a standing head scissors, signalling for a powerbomb! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Manson grabs his opponent around the waist and lifts, but as Toxxic is hoisted into the air the straight-edger starts raining desperate right hands down on his opponent. Manson is halted in his movements and Toxxic pushes himself backwards off Manson’s shoulders to land on his feet, then delivers his own kick to the gut and pulls the Hate Machine into a double underhook! “Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” King laughs, “and this one’s all over bar the shouting!” Toxxic flashes a sarcastic, lopsided grin at the camera and lifts… or tries to. But Manson’s work on his back takes its toll and the straight-edger is unable to lift his opponent’s 240lbs off the mat to deliver the spinning sit-out Pedigree! Realising his chance, Manson forces himself to lift upwards and powers Toxxic over his head in a back bodydrop, then turns around and shouts for his opponent to ‘get up!’. “King, I think Toxxic is about to face the Consequences,” Pete says tensely as Toxxic starts to stand, desperately trying to keep the advantage. “LET’S GO MAN-SON!” “LET’S GO MAN-SON!” Toxxic staggers around to face his opponent and Manson reaches up to hook him in the ¾ facelock… but at the last moment Toxxic wraps his own hands around Manson’s forehead and sits out with the Underkill, driving the back of his opponent’s skull into the mat! *BANG!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Amazing,” Pete exclaims, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone counter the Consequences like that before!” Regardless of whether the Longdogger has seen it before, the Underkill is effective - Manson grabs his head and rolls away from Toxxic as the straight-edger breathes a sigh of relief at the close escape he just had. In fact Manson accidentally rolls right back out of the ring, a fact that Toxxic quickly spies. With the thought that a couple more hits might actually put this annoying American away for good Toxxic gets back to his feet and waits for Manson to return to a vertical base on the outside, then charges for the ropes… …Manson sees him coming and hits the deck… …and at the last moment Toxxic checks his momentum and instead of flying clean over or through the ropes he simply hops over the top cable, twisting as he does so to land with his feet on the apron and facing into the ring. Manson pushes himself back up, looking around to see where the straight-edger got to, and Toxxic takes off again to crash down on him with an Asai moonsault! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” The chants don’t have any effect on the Straight-Edge Sensation - as if they ever do - as he pulls himself up on the ring apron. Manson is clearly rocked and could be just moments away from defeat, but Toxxic wants to make sure. So he reaches down and grabs the edge of one of the protective mats, then hauls it up and away from the floor… “He’s exposing the concrete, and whatever Toxxic’s got in mind here, it can’t be good!” Pete says worriedly. “There’s no need for this!” “Something past SWF Commissioners have learned about Toxxic,” King mentions idly, “is that you should never put him into a no-DQ environment unless you want his opponent to get hurt…” With the concrete exposed to the cameras Toxxic turns back to Manson as the Hate Machine is trying to struggle up, and mimes cracking open a can before taking a swig! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “A Caffeine Bomb on the concrete could spell really bad things for Manson,” Pete gasps. “Something former SWF Commissioners have learned about Toxxic,” King repeats, “is that after he’s just lost, the person facing him tends to get hurt…” Toxxic grabs Manson in a front facelock and hauls him backwards until both men are directly over the exposed arena floor. The straight-edger reaches down to hook Manson’s right leg from the inside… but Manson starts firing punches into Toxxic’s ribs, desperately trying to fight out of it! “LET’S GO MAN-SON!” “LET’S GO MAN-SON!” The blows seem to knock the wind out of the Straight-Edge Sensation and his grip relaxes slightly; sensing the change, Manson drives forward with his powerful legs and sends his opponent stumbling backwards, releasing him at the last moment before- *CRASH!* -Toxxic crashes backfirst into the steel guardrail! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Manson rears back up and rakes his opponent across the eyes, then swiftly chops the Brit right in the windpipe! Ced Ordonez is again powerless to prevent this flouting of normal rules and the Hate Machine backs up a few steps, then as Toxxic leans choking and spluttering against the rail, starts slapping his thigh. “Manson looks like he’s setting up for a Yakuza kick, and this could be the close of bid’ness for the night!” Pete declares. King meanwhile looks on in silence as Manson starts his run-up… …but at the last moment Toxxic simply falls to the arena floor, and Manson ends up with his right leg over the guardrail and nearly in someone’s drink! For a moment the Hate Machine is trapped there, and in that one moment Toxxic rises back up to slam a forearm into Manson’s happy-happy-joy-joy area! *CHING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Manson’s eyes seem to cross from the debilitating pain, and Toxxic decides that it’s time to take this home. The straight-edger clambers wearily over the barricade and waves a front-row fan out of his seat, then knocks Manson’s leg back over the guardrail and climbs onto the chair before leaning forward and getting Manson into a double underhook. The Brit pauses for one moment to take a breath… then jumps off and spins through the air, dragging Manson around and down- *CRACK!!*[/b][/b] -driving his head into the exposed concrete with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” Ced Ordonez drops to make the count as Toxxic heaves Manson over onto his back and makes a casual cover on the arena floor… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms as ‘Rookie’ kicks up again inside the Trump Plaza, “TOXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIC!!” Toxxic sits up and looks around and the jeering fans, then pushes himself back to his feet and looks down at Manson. For a moment the Straight-Edge Sensation just stares at his defeated opponent; then he abruptly spits on him, prompting the chorus of derision to rise even louder than before! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Folks, that’s just plain disrespectful,” Longdogger Pete bemoans as Toxxic starts to walk away from the apparently unconscious Manson, “Toxxic won the match, he doesn’t need to-” “Oh, he’s not done yet!” King cuts in jovially as Toxxic suddenly stops and looks back at Manson, then takes a quick run-up and punts him in the head as hard as he can! Ced Ordonez gets in Toxxic’s face and yells at him for his unsportsmanlike conduct but the straight-edger just brushes him off and turns away, heading for the ring. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 The Straight-Edge Sensation rolls under the bottom rope - albeit a bit gingerly - and then gets to his feet, calling to Funyon for the microphone. The veteran ring announcer grudgingly hands it over as Toxxic reaches out through the ropes, then signals for his music to be cut off. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “The last few weeks haven’t been the best for me,” Toxxic begins, paying no attention to the anger of the fans. “I lost my World Title at Slay Ride-” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “-I lost my Tag Titles on Lockdown-” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “-and then to cap it all, just after I’d been beaten by Wild and bloody Dangerous Dace F’n Night turns up out of nowhere to powerbomb me.” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” “Now, I waited to see what Mr. Night’s reasons were,” Toxxic says. “I know he and I haven’t seen eye-to-eye but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Then he comes out on Smarkdown and delivers his message with his usual sizzle and panache - and let’s face it Dace, you wouldn’t recognise a rousing speech if it came up and castrated you - and what do I hear? Oh woe is me, the bastard’s not going to be in the country for very long. He got imprisoned in Britain for cutting people up with light tubes or something. And he’s there, telling me that I’d better hope Landon’s going to give him a title shot, or he’s going to get bored and come and kill me.” “LET’S GO DA-ACE!” “LET’S GO DA-ACE!” “To that eloquent and well-made statement, I have merely one thing to say,” Toxxic continues. “Dace… what the bloody hell have you been smoking, sunshine?” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Have the beatings I’ve laid on your carcass over the past year really given you amnesia, or are you choosing to forget that you have the worst record against me of anyone in the history of the SWF?” Toxxic spits as the Trump Plaza boos its heart out. “You are 0-5 against me! Two singles matches, a tag match and two six-man tags, and every single time you have come off worst! You even teamed up with your idol Danny Williams, and I beat you with my tag partner of Jimmy Liston! On the ‘what former World Champion?’ scale, he ranks even lower than Mikey Whipwreck! Face it, not even the Insane Luchador has that bad a record! ” “Ooh, now that’s harsh,” Pete says as King laughs merrily. “And now you’re talking of ‘killing’ me? Like I should be scared of you?” Toxxic rants, clearly on the edge of incredulity. “Dace, why the hell should I be scared of you, you oversized, goth-shagging, wank-metal-listening, semi-illiterate, Danny Williams-wannabe Brummie BITCH?!” “OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” The New Jersey crowd are clearly taken back by the vehemence of Toxxic delivery, but the Straight-Edge Sensation doesn’t seem to care. All that matters to him is telling the High Priest of Horrorcore exactly what he thinks. “You see Dace, while you were languishing at Her Majesty’s pleasure I was winning the World Title for the second time and becoming the most dominant World Champion of 2004,” Toxxic states. “Nothing has changed since I beat your arse to keep that title during my first reign - I am still better than you! And I notice that you were very careful to keep out of the SWF while I was on top, but you came running back to reappear the moment there was a chance of you getting that title without having to go through me to do it! In fact Dace, I think it’s safe to say that you had better hope Landon gives you plenty of title shots, because otherwise you might have to face me again and lose!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “All through the week, people have been talking to me about this,” Toxxic confides to the crowd. “Spike, Sean, Jet… everyone. They all gave me the same advice - ‘don’t provoke Dace’, they said. ‘He’s a dangerous man’, they said. Well, what I say is that I’ve already been powerbombed, what have I got to lose?” “DACE NIGHT… YOU ARE A FUCKING COWARD!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “…I can’t believe he just said that,” Pete says in amazement as the Trump Plaza erupts in disapproval. “I can’t believe that this guy would come out here and call Dace Night a coward!” “Not just a coward,” King corrects, “but a fu-” “Don’t give me that crap!” Toxxic barks at the crowd, cutting the Gambling Man off in mid-profanity. “Dace, you disguised yourself as a security guard to get close to me! You had to jump me after I’d just been through a gruelling match with Wild & Dangerous, and then you launched an unprovoked attack! Well sunshine, I’d say that stinks of cowardice! You can’t beat me in a straight-up match, and you bloody know it!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “If you want to ‘discuss’ what I’ve just said then you know where to find me,” the straight-edger says, directing his words towards the back. “Come to the dressing room with ‘Revolution Zero’ on the door. Come and have a chat when I’m on the way to the ring sometime. Hell, talk to the office and get my mobile number, I don’t care. If you want to back up what you’re saying by actually wrestling, Mr. Purist, then be my guest. As long as you’re prepared to get your arse handed to you again and go off weeping to your chain-decked dungeon where you shag the festering corpse of your undead bride, it’s all the same to me. But if you think that one bloody powerbomb is enough to send me off whimpering in fear of your infernal wrath, then sunshine…” Toxxic pauses for a moment and looks around at the crowd. They know what’s coming. “…PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG!” ‘Rookie’ fires up again and Funyon instinctively catches the mic as Toxxic tosses it casually at him over the top rope, then the Straight-Edge Sensation rolls out of the ring and heads off up the ramp. “Well SWF fans, that was certainly an… impassioned… speech from Toxxic,” Longdogger Pete says. “Stay tuned for more exciting action after the break!” “I think we’ve got Alan Clark as well,” King adds. “Haven’t we already had Alan Clark?” “Really? I must have slept through it…” FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 "Stack your chips and tip your hostess folks, because Storm is coming to you live tonight from the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City!" "Haha, the perfect town for a gambling man like me, Pete. It's like taking a little vacation, something much needed after having to put up with you so often." While King is looking forward to the fringe benefits of tonight's location, some people are looking towards the action, and it's delivered in spades as the opening lines of "Demon Day" are sung throughout the arena, marking the entrance of the Royal Order's own Dominic Korgath! The intimidating presence of Max King's demonic enforcer appears on the entrance stage, raising an arm up in gesture to the crowd, who jeer his very appearance. "Here comes a man, King, who has not had much in the way of luck lately. Korgath and the Royal Order recently fell to the ever popular Wild and Dangerous, just a week after dropping a decision to two members of Martial Law, one of whom Korgath does battle with tonight." "Luck could be the lady on Korgath's arm tonight, because we're in a city that was built on luck, and that Hardcore Title would look much better around this man's waist than Todd Cortez's." "You forget though, King, that despite the raw power and strength he possesses, hardcore really isn't Korgath's style. He's being thrust out of his element tonight, and Cortez can play that up for all it's worth." As Korgath's theme carries on, soundtracking his trek to the squared circle, beloved announcer Funyon's voice booms over the mic, introducing the challenger in this next contest. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP! Approaching the ring at this time, and weighing in at three hundred fifty pounds...from Nagasaki, Japan, he is DOMMMMINICCCC KORRRRRRGAAAAAAAATH!" Korgath steps up on the apron, and swivels his head to scan the fans that greet him with more booing as he steps into the ring. Korgath breezes right past Funyon and referee Sexton Hardcastle, lurking around the ring as he awaits the Hardcore Champion. "BREATHE!" "OH!" Simultaneously, the opening of Fabolous' "Breathe" kicks up as the lights drop, and the fans all spring to their feet in anticipation. Once the song reaches the first chorus, pyro explodes, and the Urban Legend bursts through the curtain, dancing across the stage and working the crowd as only he can! "Here comes a man who has achieved so much in so little time here in the SWF! Former USJL Champion, former World Tag Team Champion..." "...and after tonight, a former Hardcore Champion!" Cortez heads for the ring, slapping some hands along the way, and then stopping at ringside to look up at the large obstacle he needs to overcome to get one in the win column tonight. Korgath looks down from the ring, as Funyon introduces the champion. "His opponent, hailing from Hollywood Boulevard, and weighing in tonight at two hundred, twenty six pounds, is the current SWF Hardcore Champion...the Urban Legend, TODDDDDDD CORRRRTEZZZZZZ!" Cortez takes the cross that hangs around his neck and plants a kiss on it, his traditional show of respect for his deceased brother. Cortez slingshots himself over the ropes and into the ring, jogging around as he unstraps the Hardcore Title and removes the bulletproof vest he wears during his entrace. "Why on earth would anyone need to wear a bulletproof vest to a wrestling match?" “He’s taking it off, King.” “That’s not the point!” Cortez drops the Hardcore title and his entrance attire in Funyon’s arms, leaving the announcer to take it out of the ring as he exits. Cortez then circles around Korgath, measuring up his stoic opponent, as Hardcastle calls for the bell. DING DING DING! Immediately, Cortez approaches Korgath and shoves him, which probably wasn’t the best move as he didn’t budge the big man. Cortez, unaffected by Korgath’s non-responsive attitude, shoves him again, and waves on the big man, urging him to come at him. “I didn’t realize suicide was a way to survive on the streets.” “I’m safe in saying that I know what Cortez is trying to do. I think.” Korgath remains still, and the crowd begins to grow restless as the Big Demon seems content with toying with the straight edge street thug. Cortez looks out to the crowd in disbelief, that this monster is refusing to fight, and moves towards him again…only to be clutched by his throat and bieled off into the corner! “There we go. Much better!” Cortez shakes the cobwebs loose just in time to see Korgath lumbering towards him, and slides out of the corner before he can be crushed under the big man’s weight. Korgath turns around, but when he does he’s staggered by a flurry of lefts and rights that keep him pinned in the corner! Cortez then climbs up on the second rope, raining shots down on the temple of the masked man, until he finds his feet lifted off the turnbuckle and dropped over the ropes by Korgath! Cortez grabs onto the top rope and lands on the apron, keeping his balance, jabbing a thumb into the eyehole of Korgath’s mask to blur his vision and take him off his game so that he can springboard back into the ring, driving both feet into the chest of the blinded beast with a missle dropkick! Korgath loses his balance, but doesn’t go down, as he’s held up by falling into the ropes…only to have Cortez spring to his feet and charge forward, leaping at Korgath and extending his right arm out to drive him over the ropes and to the floor with a leaping lariat! “This is what Cortez needs to do. Keep Korgath out of his element and off his game. The big man isn’t known for hardcore!” “So that means he should be forced into that kind of situation? He could knock Cortez’s head clean off his shoulders with his bare hands, nevermind a chair shot or something!” After spilling outside of the ring, both men get to their feet, and Cortez quickly comes over to Korgath and yanks on his arm, attempting to send him into the guardrail. Korgath keeps his feet planted firmly on the concrete, however, and instead pulls Cortez towards him, lifting up and elbow and smashing Cortez’s teeth in with it! The Urban Legend staggers, until his arm gets grabbed, and Korgath hurls Cortez towards the guardrail, which winds up pushed back several feet as Todd collides with it back first! The champion tries to recover as quickly as possible, but it’s not soon enough, as Korgath pries him up from his spot and hooks his waist, lifting him into the air and crotching him across the guardrail! “Cortez’s dice just came up craps, now didn’t they!” “Mandatory gambling reference, given our location?” “But of course.” The crowd groans in pain along with Cortez, whose mouth hangs low in pain. Korgath then pulls his opponent off the guardrail, holding him up as if for a back suplex, but then turns and moves forward, driving Cortez into the ringpost both headfirst as well as crotch first before letting him fall to the floor! “I think Korgath just might surprise us with his hardcore skill tonight, Pete.” Cortez walks on all fours, gasping for air after having it driven out of him the REALLY hard way. Korgath hovers over him, and reaches down, pulling Cortez up so that he rests on his knees, and then clubs him across the sternum, letting whatever air Cortez was able to take in right back out of him! Korgath pulls his foe up and rolls him into the ring, but as Korgath climbs up on the apron, Cortez keeps on rolling across the mat, and out the opposite side! "Well, if we didn't have proof of Cortez being a coward, there it is." Korgath and ref Hardcastle both head for the end of the ring, looking out to see Cortez's status. The hardcore Hispanic is down on all fours outside the ring, and Korgath sees an opening to wear him out some more. The Big Demon exits the ring and hits the floor, leaning over to pull the weary Cortez up again...but Cortez jabs him with a throat thrust, showing that he was merely playing possum! Korgath turns away and gasps for breath, as Cortez hops up onto the apron and leaps onto Korgath's shoulders, sitting atop the big man and hammering on the top of his head with closed fists! Korgath staggers, and Cortez backflips off of his shoulders, landing on his feet and drawing an "ooooh" from the crowd, and a cheer as he motions for a ringside fan to pass him a steel chair. Cortez grasps both legs of the chair in his hand, and waits for his opponent to face him once again...then bashes him in the forehead with the flat seat of the chair! Korgath staggers back, giving Cortez the opening to set the chair up at ringside. He takes ten paces back, then runs full throttle, springing off the chair seat and leaping into the air towards his foe...only to have his bodypress attempt denied, as Korgath catches him, then presses him up into the air, holding Cortez above his head before tossing him down on the very chair that was just used on him! "Seems like Korgath opted to skip the buffet and go right for the ribs!" Cortez tries to get up, but falls back down, the surging pain through his ribs enough to take him off balance. He starts to crawl up the aisle, with Korgath lurking close behind like a horror movie villain. Hardcastle comes out of the ring and also follows, as with hardcore rules a pinfall could take place anywhere in The A.C. tonight. The crowd rises to their feet and divert their eyes to the aisleway, as Todd Cortez hobbles towards the entrance area, moving away from his foe rather than engaging in battle. The fans react with confusion, as this is a total 180 from Cortez’s normal demeanor. Korgath continues to give chase, his bulky frame keeping him at a distance from his foe, but with Cortez still sore from being dropped stomach first onto a chair, catching up to him may not be as hard as one would think. Soon enough, Cortez has totally disappeared behind the curtain and into the backstage workings of the arena, drawing Korgath and Hardcastle along on the trek. “Where did he go?” “I’m…I’m not sure. Do we have cameras ready in the back? Let’s get a…” CRACK! The feed returns, and the muffled, yet still audible cheers of the fans are heard, as Cortez smashes a piece of plywood across the midsection of Dominic Korgath as he comes through the curtain! Korgath briefly falls over, and as he pushes himself back up, Todd brings the flat wooden board down across his back, causing a loud smacking sound to echo through the locker room area! Cortez throws down the board, staring at the wounded animal in front of him, and then belts him several times between the eyes with his fists, shuffling back and forth like a boxer before stepping away from Korgath. “You want me, big man? Come get me.” Cortez again starts to back away, but now his approach is obvious; lure Korgath out of his element! “I get it now, King!” “Get what?” “Cortez. This strategy of his, it’s quite simple really.” “Pete, running away from something isn’t exactly quantum physics.” “He’s not running, you cynic. He’s adapting.” “What?” “Adapting. Improvising. It’s what he needs to do in order to beat this man. Cortez knows that Korgath isn’t fond of the hardcore style, so by drawing him out of the ring and into his own enviroment, he’s giving himself better odds.” “Pete, that makes sense. It’s an absolutely ludicrious theory, but it makes sense.” “Watch and learn, King.” Furious that Cortez will not stand and fight, a fuming Korgath breezes past SWF and Trump Plaza personnel as Cortez heads down a hallway that leads to God knows where. Disappearing around a corner, Cortez falls out of sight of both his opponent and the audience. “Now where…” SPLASH! “The hell!? Again, the muffled roar of the crowd is heard in the background of this live footage, as Korgath is drenched with water, stumbling back into a wall and wailing blindly. The camera man turns the corner, and standing there next to a bewildered maintenance man is Cortez, clutching the man’s mop bucket after having just emptied the contents on his foe! “What the hell is he doing! That bucket could have had ammonia or something in it!” “I think that was his intent!” No sooner does Pete speak than Cortez drops the bucket and rushes forward, pushing his soaked challenger back into the wall! Cortez slides his fingers under Korgath’s mask, yanking him down the hallway with it, and stopping to introduce his face to the wall a few times for good measure! Cortez then takes Max King’s Demonic Knight and hooks both of his arms, holding him in a butterfly lock as he brings his knee up repeatedly into his face, driving the joint into the nose and chin of the larger superstar. In a fit of rage, Korgath pulls his arms away from Cortez and shoves HIM backwards now, driving him back first into the door of an elevator! Korgath steps away as Cortez cringes in pain, planting a boot in the champion’s gut before taking him by the head and tossing him headfirst into the elevator door…WHICH OPENS UP, LEAVING CORTEZ TO COLLIDE WITH SEVERAL UNSUSPECTING TRUMP PLAZA PATRONS! “Oh god. Lawsuit City here we come.” Korgath slams his hands on the wall, creating a loud boom that scares the population of the elevator away, as if they weren’t already. Cortez is just getting to his feet as Korgath enters the small space with him, and again uses a simple jab to the eyes to deflect any more punishment. Korgath turns away in pain, and that’s the last sight we see as the elevator doors then close, leaving the two combatants in this Hardcore match trapped inside to do battle! “Pete, we’ve lost them!” “Impossible! Do you know how many security cameras are on these premises? We’ll find them!” “By what? A floor by floor search?” “King, think. How hard do you REALLY think it’s going to be to spot a giant masked man fighting a young streetwise Mexican IN THE TRUMP PLAZA HOTEL?” “Pete, we’re in Atlantic City. You just described the plot for the 10 pm stage show.” The announcers continue to bicker, as SWF cameras race around the building, desperately in search of finding this match before viewers start switching channels. “OK…OK folks, I’m getting word now that we may have found them.” “MAY have? Is it REALLY that tough? I was just kidding earlier!” “Apparently loud noises were heard from an elevator that has just stopped on Level 6 of the hotel.” “Level 6? Do we have a camera in place?” “We should…guys….guys…yes, here it is!” The shaky camera work returns, as an SWF camera man is darting down a sixth floor hallway, looking for the elevators. Lucky for him, he sees a hotel employee with a room service cart, and scurries to ask him if he’s heard anything coming from the elevators…until the “ding” of the elevator bell is heard…AND TODD CORTEZ IS LAUNCHED OUT OF THE ELEVATOR AND INTO THE FOOD CART! “WE FOUND THEM!” Korgath, growling intensely, steps out of the elevator and shoves the young employee down, picking Cortez up out of the pile of steak, potatoes, and various other treats that are on some poor sap’s hotel bill. As Korgath kicks aside the expensive slab of meat to pry Cortez up off the formerly clean floor, a crowd of people forms at the end of the hall, watching as Cortez is pressed up above Korgath’s head, then thrown directly into the wall! “I do NOT want to see this damage bill.” Cortez slumps to the floor, and Sexton Hardcastle finally makes it on the scene, standing by and watching the carnage unfold. Korgath again reaches for his weary foe, but this time Cortez fires back with a pair of back elbows, then delivers a Russian Legsweep that sends the back of Korgath’s head smashing into the side of the overturned cart! Korgath rolls on the ground and holds his head in pain, as Cortez knocks away some of the food and takes the dish it once sat on, standing over his opponent and bringing the dish across the back of his head, shattering it into little pieces! “That one’s coming out of his check I hope!” Cortez stands over his wounded prey, and glances over as he hears the “ding” of the elevator bell, turning to see more Trump Plaza guests have their elevator door open to this scene. The shocked patrons emerge quickly from the elevator, backing away from Cortez, who can only offer a slight chuckle as he leads Korgath to his feet and then hurls him back into the elevator! Korgath slams against the wall of the elevator, barely able to get his arms up to brace the impact, as Cortez reaches down and sets the food cart upright. The door to the elevator begins to close, but Cortez quickly reaches in and hits the button to open the doors, leaving Korgath with nowhere to go as he takes the food cart and runs into the elevator with it, ramming it into his opponent and driving the breath from his body! Korgath slumps down, and Cortez shoves the cart out of his way, covering Korgath as his body slouches down to the elevator floor. Hardcastle steps over the once edible debris and counts, as Cortez has the pinfall in the elevator! ONE! TWO! TH…THE ELEVATOR DOOR SHUTS! “Was that three!?” “I don’t think so! How can you count a fall you can’t see!?” Hardcastle stands up and stomps his feet, knowing that once again he’s got to go on a wild goose chase for this match. The referee, hoping that this incident might land him a promotion, or at least a bonus, yanks on the cameraman’s sleeve and the two go off in search of the fight, as we cut back to our announcers in the arena. “This has got to be one of the wildest brawls I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a lot of them.” “It’s action you’re not going to get from anyone else, that’s for damn sure! It’d just be better if we actually could SEE the action!” “I think everyone would agree with…wait, hang on, I think we’ve found them. Only a floor up? Go to it! Go now!” “Where are they.” “The seventh floor. The recreation area. They’re on the tennis court.” “The what!?” Sure enough, as our cameras cut back to the melee, Cortez and Korgath are slugging it out on one of Trump Plaza’s indoor tennis courts! The two men are going at it tooth and nail, until Korgath merely swats the hand of Cortez away mid-punch, taking him by the arm and spinning around to hurl him into the tennis net, which snaps off the support posts upon impact! Cortez rolls backwards, stunned by the move but not hurt, and lifts his head just in time to see Korgath coming at him…so he takes the tennis net and lunges at Korgath, tangling the big man up in it! As Korgath staggers around, trying to free himself, Cortez runs off to the sidelines, and grabs the automatic tennis ball machine, wheeling it onto the court, and lining it up with his opponent. “What is he doing with THAT?” THUNK! The answer becomes quite clear, as Cortez fires off a ball, sending it soaring at full speed out of the machine, and right into the nether regions of the Big Demon! Korgath falls to his knees, bellowing out a sorrowful roar as he drops…then gets knocked for a loop as Cortez runs the machine across the court, smashing it into Korgath’s face! The Demon drops, and again Cortez goes for the pin on him, which Hardcastle is all too happy to count, hoping these means he can get some rest and relaxation. ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Amazingly, Korgath rolls a shoulder up, as despite his tangled and pained state, he’s still got some fight left in him. Cortez immediately gets up and heads for the tennis ball machine again, wheeling it away from Korgath, and setting it up so that it faces the monster. As Korgath gets up, tearing the net from off his body, he lays his eyes on Cortez, who is motioning for him to come at him as he hides behind the machine. Infuriated, eyes burning with rage, Korgath storms towards Cortez, tired of his cat and mouse game… THUNK! …and gets another ball fired at him, although this time adrenaline takes over, and he keeps on walking! “Oooooh boy.” THUNK! ANOTHER shot, as the ball ricochets off Korgath, almost unnoticed by the beastly behemoth! THUNK! The third shot nails Korgath in the shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly, then angrily snatch the tennis ball machine and hurl it over, this time FORCING Cortez to step back! Undaunted by the intimidation factor, Cortez stands tall, clubbing Korgath across his chest with rapid fire elbows and forearms until both of Korgath’s hands wrap around his head, pulling him in close so that Korgath can rock him with a headbutt! Cortez clutches his possibly broken nose, not seeing Korgath still stalking, and when the Urban Legend looks up, all he sees is a huge boot about to make a landing on his face! Cortez falls on his back, and Korgath keels over for a moment, finally taking Cortez out of the game long enough to catch a breath…and then dropping his 300 plus pound frame onto the young speedster by planting an elbow in his sternum! Cortez coughs out the air from his body and tries to roll away, but Korgath rolls him onto his back, pinning him down and waiting for Hardcastle to make the count! ONE! TWO! TH-KICKOUT! “Another close call! Who’d have thought that we’d ever see things like food carts and tennis ball machines come into play in an SWF title match!” “If I were a gambling man…ah screw it, I AM a gambling man, which is why I’d like Korgath to finish this punk off, so I can hit the tables!” Korgath, still angry at all he’s had to go through tonight, jerks Cortez up from the floor of the court and lifts him up into the air before dropping the small of his spine across his knee with a backbreaker! He shoves Cortez off of his appendage, watching joyfully as Cortez rolls around and favors the back, before picking him up, this time positioning himself behind Cortez and lifting him up onto his shoulders for a Torture Rack! “The Torture Rack! He’s going to force Cortez into submission!” The powerhouse Korgath has no real trouble getting Cortez up, but it’s holding onto him that proves to be a chore, as the quicker Cortez kicks and squirms, trying to get free! Korgath tries to hold on and force the hold, knowing that he could snap the youngster in two, but Cortez keeps shifting his body weight, finally able to slide off of Korgath’s shoulders, and wrapping his arm around Korgath’s head as he falls. As he slides off the shoulders of his foe, Cortez rotates so that he’s going to land on all fours, putting strain on Korgath’s neck and pulling the dazed demon down across his back, jarring him with the rarely used Cereal Killer neckbreaker! “The Cereal Killer! That’s old school Cortez for you!” “OLD SCHOOL? He’s been here less than a year, and you’re suddenly nostalgic for moves?” Cortez grits his teeth in pain, as the move has bought him some time, but at the expense of his back, which was already hurting before he snapped Korgath’s thick neck across it. Referee Hardcastle keeps an eye on both competitors, having learned tonight to be ready for anything at anytime. Cortez pushes himself to his feet, just as a groggy Korgath is doing so… CRACK! …and nails him with a superkick flush in the cheekbone, sending Korgath falling into the chain link fencing that encompasses the tennis court! Cortez races towards him, but Korgath, weary as he is, sidesteps the onslaught and flings Cortez up into the fencing, causing the Urban Legend to meet it head on before he bounces off of it…AND GETS PULLED INTO A STANDING HEADSCISSORS! POWERBOMB BY KORGATH…NO! CORTEZ IS HAMMERING AWAY! CORTEZ IS FIGHTING IT! CORTEZ…TURNS HIS MASK SO THAT HE CAN’T SEE! “He’s blinded him!” Korgath’s attention immediately goes to his impaired vision, allowing Cortez to fall to his feet and deliver an NFL worthy punt kick right to the junk of Korgath, which drops the demon like it would any mortal man! Korgath falls to his knees, his hands now off his mask and…somewhere else, unable to block the flying knee of Todd Cortez, which slams into the side of his head. “Shining Wizard by the Urban Legend brings the big man down!” Cortez, visibly spent at this point, paces over the fallen body of Dominic Korgath, searching for a way to end this contest. As Cortez tilts his head in exhaustion, he momentarily pauses, and then looks down to the fallen giant that lays behind him. Cortez then tugs at Korgath’s leg, dragging the sem-conscious star across the court, and probably giving him a bad case of friction burn before rolling him onto his back. “What’s this about? Cover him, you twit!” Rather than heed King’s advice (not like he can hear it, anyways), Cortez starts climbing up the fencing, drawing some “ooh’s” and “what the’s” from the onlookers who have gathered to witness this spectacle taking place in Trump Plaza’s rec area. Seated atop the fencing, Cortez looks down, probably thinking twice about this, before curling his knees up into his chest, and belting out a famous call, although not for this reason. “CANNONBALL!” “The pool is that way, genius!” quips an impatient King. With that, Cortez pushes himself off the fencing, knees tucked in, as he lets his body shift so that ALL OF HIS WEIGHT COMES DOWN ONTO THE CHEST OF DOMINIC KORGATH, SENTON STYLE~! “MY GOD KING, HE JUST CRUSHED KORGATH!” “I hope they vacuum up the dust from what used to be his ribs before I go playing tennis later on.” Cortez rolls off the body of Korgath after impact, he himself shaken from such a risky maneuver. Moments later, he rolls himself back onto the monster, who has now left a near seven foot imprint in the Trump Plaza tennis court. ONE! TWO! THREE! No bell is sounded, but Hardcastle helps Cortez to his feet, and raises his hand, while a quick cutaway to the arena allows us to hear Cortez’s theme kicked up, and a roar of approval from the fans for securing victory. “That was one of the oddest, unpredictable, intense hardcore matches I’ve ever seen in my life! If Korgath wasn’t a fan of hardcore now, I don’t think this evening made him one!” “I’ll call a spade a spade here, Pete…Cortez made the most of his enviroment tonight. Personally, I never ever thought I’d see cannonball senton’s onto tennis courts in my career, but that young man proved me wrong!” “…that’s all you have to say about what we just witnessed?” “I said I was impressed. Take what you can get.” Cortez wanders off the tennis court, as onlookers slowly approach the fallen Korgath, who lay motionless. Some even bust out their cameras, taking pictures of the fallen superstar who has just succumbed to the SWF Hardcore Champion. “Luck was not on Korgath’s side this evening, but will it be on the side of Austin Sly? The SWF veteran makes his return against one half of the World Tag Team Champions LIVE from Atlantic City when we come back!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 The scene opens up backstage, where Ben Hardy stands in front of a large SWF logo. From the left, the Perfect Storm, Sean Davis, and Rashelle Moore enter the shot. The crowd in the Trump Plaza gives Sean a piece of their mind, booing at the Smarktron. A faint cheer can actually be heard as Rashelle smiles brightly at the camera. Sean’s dressed in warm-ups, his USJL title draped over his right shoulder. Davis nods down at Hardy, ready to get started. Hardy begins, "Welcome to Sean Davis and Rashelle Moore. Sean, to get right to the point, next week on Lockdown you’ll be challenging Landon Maddix for his long-held ICTV title. With the events taking place tonight, how are you prepping for that match?" "Preparation is never different for any opponent. Some people watch tapes, others train harder against like opponents … I just go in and do my thing. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do to Landon Maddix. No matter the outcome of tonight’s Heavyweight Title match … I’m still going to go out there and squash Maddix." Ben takes the mic back to further interview Davis, "Speaking of tonight's match, what are your exact thoughts on Sacred's role in Revolution Zero?" Davis rests his arm around Rashelle's shoulders as he takes a moment to properly word his response. "He's either with us, or against us. And all I can say is that he'd better damn well be with us, because we're not a group to be taken lightly. Sure, we don't have as much gold as we used to, but like I said to Toxx … we're not about gold. Sacred may win the Championship tonight and bring it back to our camp, but we can still dominate without it." Hardy nods and focuses on Rashelle, "Miss Moore …" Ben has to pause and wait while the cheers from the crowd dies down. Rashelle just smiles widely as she waits to answer Ben Hardy. "Rashelle, how's your training going?" "I'm having so much fun, Ben," answers the blonde. "Sarah's a great trainer and she's really trying hard to help me out … I can't say I'm looking forward to getting into the ring, but the thought excites me, still." "Thank you, Sean Davis, and Rashelle Moore, for your time tonight … " Hardy looks at the camera, and addresses the crowd. "Coming up next, Austin Sly wrestles his first match back against the Secret Agent, Johnny Dangerous!" Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 (edited) The Trump Plaza is abuzz with anxious anticipation - the thousands of fans in attendance on the edge of their seat as Storm returns from a commercial break. Suddenly, their attention is called to the ring by the sound of the timekeeper’s bell: DING DING DING!!! The camera shifts to Funyon in the center of the ring, as he raises the microphone to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following match, scheduled for one fall, will be conducted with NO RULES and pin falls will count anywhere! Introducing first…” Funyon pauses, letting his voice trail off as the lights drop out and a single white spotlight shines down onto the stage. A hush falls over the fans at ringside, and for a few seconds there is total silence. Then finally, Zach de la Rocha's voice shouts out… "It's a wonderful place, oh what a wonderful place..." "For you..." "... for you..." "For you... not me..." BOOOOOOOOOOM!!! Explosions rock the entire building, launching a mix of red and gold stars towards the stratosphere as Rage Against the Machine’s “Street Fighting Man” kicks up in full force, and Austin Sly steps out onto the stage! “From St. Louis, Missouri,” bellows Funyon, “and weighing in at two hundred-thirty seven pounds… he is… AAAAAAUSTIIIIIIIIIIIN SLY!!!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Damn drunks – the whole lot of them,” grumbles the Suicide King. “Austin Sly makes his return to action and they welcome him back with open jeers! Whatever happened to the welcome back pop?” “Perhaps it’s the general vibe he gives off,” speculates Pete, as Austin slowly makes his way to ringside, not even once acknowledging the fans’ response to him. “Whatever it is… there is something unnerving about the new Austin Sly – like a deranged soul.” “I don’t know about that, Pete. I just don’t think I have ever seen Austin Sly with a more focused look about him,” King notes. “His motivation isn’t on pleasing or even pissing on the fans, it’s all about him and more importantly…winning. Now that’s the kind of attitude I can really get into!” Austin removes his trench coat and carefully hangs it from a ring post. Then, just as his music starts to fade, he turns his attention towards the stage and crouches down with his hands on his knees. It is all about defeating the man who comes out next… “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! New Jersey lets out a thunderous cheer for the Barracuda as “After the Flesh” hits, and hits the speakers hard! “Atlantic City is on their feet!” exclaims Pete. “What an ovation for Johnny Dangerous!” Lights come alive, flashing in tempo with the music while smoke rolls out onto the stage for a knee-high, eerie, fog-like appearance. Finally, the Secret Agent strolls out from backstage, through the thick of the smoke, and to a second loud pop from the Atlantic City crowd! “From Las Vegas, Nevada,” booms Funyon. “He weighs in at two hundred and twenty pounds! He is one half of the reigning SWF TAG TEAM CHAAAMPIOOOOONS… JOOOHNNY ‘THE BAAARRAAACUDAAAAAAA’ DAAANGEROUS!!!” After slapping as many of the outstretched hands as he could, Johnny slides into the ring, grabs the title belt from around his waist, and triumphantly raises it out to the fans as hundreds of flashbulbs go off from all over the arena! “Like Austin Sly, Johnny is also wrestling his first singles match tonight since returning to the SWF,” Pete notes. “Some might say Austin is being ‘thrown to the wolves’ having to compete against a former World Champion, but under the hardcore stipulation change for this match it could easily go either way.” “Most definitely,” agrees King, “and a win here would do wonders for Austin’s status in the SWF.” Referee Ronald “Red” Herrington hands the title belt to a ringside assistant for safe keeping then turns and signals for the timekeeper to ring the bell. DING DING DING!!! “Bells gone,” says Pete, as Johnny steps in to approach Austin, who has yet to take his eyes off his opponent. He finally straights himself up to take on his first challenge, but before the two engage a chant breaks out in the crowd: JOOOOHN-E! JOOOOHN-E! JOOOOHN-E! “And just listen to that crowd,” marvels Pete. “You’d almost think he’s from Atlantic City from this reaction.” “He might as well be,” replies King. “I’m sure the idiot has pumped enough money into their casinos to pull Donald Trump out of bankruptcy. He’s probably a hero round these parts!” Johnny smiles and nods as he extends his hand out to the fans then tap’s his thumb into his chest, making sure that Austin knows that these fans are on his side. However, Austin is not amused, nor does he give a damn who’s side they’re on. Instead he quickly steps forward and fires a lighting quick jab at Johnny’s jaw! WHACK! “Oh! It’s on!” shouts King, as Johnny stumbles back from the surprise blow and Austin gives chase! He pulls Johnny’s hand back from his face then belts two more shots into Dangerous’ skull to send him flying back into the corner! WHAM! WHAM! “Austin is simply on fire!” bellows King. “Like I told you before, Pete, Austin’s focus is totally on getting the job done – he doesn’t care about these fans like that idiot Dangerous! As you can see, they’ve already cost him the match!” Austin closes in on the corner, pinning Johnny into it to take full advantage of not having any rules and just tear the Agent from limb to limb! He swings at Johnny but the Barracuda blocks it with a forearm then reaches out and grabs Austin by the shoulders, reversing the situation by slamming Sly back-first into the corner post! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “This match isn’t over yet!” exclaims Pete, as Johnny whips his elbow into the side of Austin’s head, driving the point directly into his opponent’s temple, then cocks his arm back and… SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOO!” Unloads with a series of eye-watering knife-edged chops, lighting up Austin’s chest to the delight of the crowd! “Austin got off to a good start with the opening drive,” says Pete, as Dangerous grabs his opponent by the arm and whips him out of the corner towards the opposing one, “but its Johnny’s experience that’s taking over the match now!” CRACK! Austin slams into the unforgiving steel post back-first then staggers out – his hand reaching back to the small of his back as he groans in pain. He looks up from the mat just as Johnny comes tearing across the ring- -Austin ducks down and rolls through the clothesline attempt as Johnny’s momentum carries him right past Sly, forcing him to have to burry his feet into the mat to keep from hitting the ring post. He stops in the nick of time, less than an inch from the post, but his head goes sailing into the turnbuckle anyway when Sly grabs him by the back of his head and drills him into it! SMACK! “I guess that was more of Johnny’s experience coming into play,” snickers King, as Johnny’s head bounces off the turnbuckle before his entire body plummets to the mat. “He can’t even hold control for more than two seconds!” Austin drops to his knees and makes the cover. As expected, Herrington delivers the count: ONE! TW – NO! Johnny kicks out just before the two-count and starts climbing back to his feet, only to be met with a knee to his chest! Austin drills his opponent with his knee - over and over again while backing the Agent across the ring, into the ropes. He leaves Johnny hanging against them, visibly stunned, and takes off towards the far side of the ring, hits the ropes and comes springing back towards the Barracuda… WHAM! Austin levels Johnny with a tremendous clothesline, sending the Barracuda tumbling over the top rope to the outside floor! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “The focus of Austin Sly is really starting to shine now,” says King, as Johnny staggers to his feet and Austin heads across the ring once more. He hits the ropes and bounces off, then drops as he reaches the other side with a baseball slide, busting the Barracuda’s chops once more! WHACK! OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!! Johnny goes stumbling back and slams back-first into the guard rail, holding his face in both hands! The fans try to console the Barracuda, reaching out and patting him on the back… “It looks like this match is getting taken outside,” says Pete. “Remember, King, pin falls and submissions can happen anywhere – they don’t have to even be inside the ring!” “I know that you moron!” snaps King. “Do I have a sign on me that says ‘retard’ or something!? I used to be the commissioner of this damn place!” Austin slides out of the ring and grabs Johnny by his head, spins him around, and slams his head into the guard rail! WHACK! Johnny staggers back and Austin grabs him again to slam his face into the railing, but Johnny puts his hands up and blocks the attempt, then elbows his opponent in the ribs before slamming AUSTIN’S head into the guard rail in return… and not just once, but twice! WHACK! WHACK! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “Bid’ness is really starting to pick up!” shouts Pete, as Austin staggers back, stunned from the blows and gets floored by a running clothesline, “-and we have a cover!” ONE!! TW-NOO! “Not quite enough mustard behind that last hit to get a pin out of it,” says King, as Johnny pulls Austin to his feet with a quick arm wrench to whip him across the floor, but Austin reverses and sends the Barracuda for the ride instead… CRACK! …and flings Dangerous into the steel steps! Johnny goes tumbling end over end until finally crashing down hard into the thinly-padded floor with a huge thud! “Oh, man,” says Pete. “Austin Sly is really picking up the intensity with this match – taking full advantage of the hardcore rules in effect.” “Such is the way of a hardcore match,” replies King. “Austin has come here to prove a point – to show the world that he means business, and absolutely destroying someone so cherished as Johnny Dangerous here would out a huge exclamation point on that statement!” Austin grabs hold of Dangerous by his head and pulls him half way up before driving the point of his elbow into the back of Johnny’s neck, dropping the agent to his knees. Johnny clasps the back of his neck, grunting in pain, while Austin reaches down and locks his arm around the Barracuda’s noggin for a side headlock! Austin clenches down as tight as he can, and Johnny bucks and flails, trying to get free as a mighty chant stirs up from the crowd… AUS-TIN SUCKS! AUS-TIN SUCKS! AUS-TIN SUCKS! “This crowd is getting all over Austin Sly tonight,” says Pete. “They really don’t like to see one of their favorites get so mangled up.” “Perhaps Johnny should learn to wrestle a little better than,” replies King. “That or the crowd should pick someone who can get the job done to cheer for…like Austin Sly, or Toxxic, or-” “We get the point, King, thanks.” Suddenly, Johnny begins to fight back! He rams his elbow into Austin’s ribcage. Unfortunately, there isn’t much force behind the first and he has to nail his opponent again… and again… and again! Finally, Austin lets loose of Johnny’s head and stumbles back as Johnny thumps the palm of his hand against his head, desperately trying to shake the cobwebs. “Finally, a breather for the Barracuda,” says Pete. “Now he can get back into this match!” Johnny catches sight of Austin trying to dash towards him, seemingly looking for a clothesline, and he slings his elbow out… CRACK! …and catches his opponent in the face to an “OOOOH!” from the crowd! Austin stumbles back, grabbing his face and Dangerous gives chase. He grabs Sly by the wrist and whips him towards the steel post… and once again once again, Austin digs his feet into the floor and reverses! “HA!” snorts King, as Johnny goes head-first into the steel post with a loud, hollow metal sounding “KA-LAANG~!” ringing out, and to another “OOOOOOH!” from the Atlantic City fans! “That’s the second time he got reversed on a whip…IN A ROW!” Johnny pops off the post and falls to the floor in a messy heap! He lands on his back and then just lies there, on the cold, hard concrete floor as blood begins to dribble from his forehead, bringing a to the face of Austin Sly. “Dear God!” cries Pete. “Johnny’s been busted wide open – I think I can see his brains oozing out of his skull!” “Get a hold of yourself, Pete!” snaps King. “We’re not that lucky around here, anyway.” Austin quickly hops down to his knees and covers Johnny as Herrington counts… ONE! TWO! TH - NOOO!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! Johnny kicks out to the joy of Atlantic City! Austin doesn’t let him deter his focus – heading to Funyon he barks at him to get out of the chair, then grabs it and folds it up with a mighty “CLANG!” just so the fans can see how solid the weapon is. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “I guess Austin’s done using the environment as weapons,” says King. “Now it’s time to get down to business with a good old chair-shot. You just have to trust proven methods to get the job done, I guess.” “Come on, Johnny, get up,” Pete pleads along with the fans surrounding ringside, but Dangerous doesn’t move – lying on the floor breath hard as Austin stalks in with his shiny steel chair. He rears back, aiming for Johnny’s skull… WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! Johnny quickly kicks his leg out and nails Austin in the midsection repeatedly until he stumbles back reeling, much to the joy of the crowd, and inadvertently pulling the chair down to head level! There’s no time to waste now – Johnny hops back up to his feet, blood soaked face and all then leaps up… CRACK! …and plants a springing side kick into the chair, sending it slamming back into Austin’s face, and dropping him to the floor! JOOOHN-E! JOOOHN-E! JOOOHN-E! “What a series of maneuvers by the Barracuda!” exclaims Pete. “Just when you thought it was time to count Johnny Dangerous out he springs back into action!” “More like springs into an opportunity,” counters King. “Austin had him where he wanted him, but just gave Johnny a little too much time there.” Johnny hobbles over to Austin and drops to cover him as Herrington counts: ONE!! TWO!! THR – NOOO!!! Austin kicks out to a collective “AAAAW!” from the crowd! He moves rather slowly though; trying to get back up to his feet while still somewhat shaken from the chair-shot, and Johnny sees another opportunity coming his way. He drops down to one knee and starts fumbling with his pant leg as the fans –mystified by his behavior- watches on. “What in the hell is he doing down there?” King quizzically ask, but his questions are answered when Johnny pulls out a short metal stick… then extends it with the press of a button! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! “It appears Johnny had a weapon hidden in his boot – a baton,” says Pete, as the crowd cheers on this exciting new development. “The resourcefulness of the Secret Agent never ceases to amaze me!” “It’s probably loaded,” adds King. “That or it has an electric current running through it! This cheating son of a bitch never ceases to amaze me as well… but it’s for all the wrong reasons!?” “There are no rules in this match, King, how could he cheat!?” “It’s just the principle of the matter,” he replies. “Remember that shoe phone he tried to pull on Tom Flesher? He’s always trying to cheat!” Austin starts pulling himself up by way of the ring apron. Johnny’s right behind him, with his baton all the way extended and the crowd going wild in anticipation of his attack! THHH-WACK! THHH-WACK! THHH-WACK! Johnny slices across Austin’s back and shoulder blades with the baton, turning them a bright, blistering red! As each hit connects, Sly wails out in pain and tries to reach back and shield himself, but the attacks keep coming… THHH-WACK! THHH-WACK! “I think he may have pissed the Barracuda off when he rammed his head into the ring post,” says Pete. “He’s completely loosing it on Austin Sly!” “Well, if he can’t take the heat maybe he should get out of the kitchen!” shouts King. “This kind of action, this retribution here, is seriously uncalled for!” “Such is the way of this match, King,” replies Pete, “remember?” “Shut up!” Austin tries to escape further punishment, dragging himself by the guard rail around the side of the ring and Johnny gives chase, coming up behind his opponent… SMACK~! …and Austin spins around with a lighting quick, closed fist, clubbing the Barracuda in the mouth! He darts in towards Johnny as he staggers back and drops his baton, ready to mash his knuckles down Johnny’s throat, but… WHOOSH~! Johnny ducks down as Austin’s momentum spins him around and the Barracuda pops up right behind him and quickly grabs around Sly’s waist. He hauls him up and over, and… WHAM! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! “German suplex, right on floor!” shouts Pete. Johnny holds on, keeping his hands locked around Austin’s waist as he pulls his opponent back up to his feet. “And he’s going for another!” Austin desperately sandbags to avoid further abuse, but the Barracuda isn’t about to let that put an end to this. He lets go of Austin’s waistline and starts hammering into his opponents back… THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! Then with Austin under control, Johnny reacquires his grip on Sly’s waist and lifts him off his feet and swings him overhead… WHAM! Johnny nails his second German suplex then once more, still holding onto Austin, pulls him back up to his feet and hauls him off his feet… “Total disrespect for a man’s livelihood!” roars King. “He could seriously injury Austin with all these suplex’s on that hard floor!” “It is thinly-padded, though.” WHAM! JOOOOHN-E! JOOOOHN-E! JOOOOHN-E! JOOOOHN-E! The crowd is on their feet – loudly applauding the devastating series of German’s issued by the Barracuda on Austin. Johnny has yet to get back up to his feet after delivering the last suplex - taking the second that he has to try and piece himself back together. “Both men are down at the top of ringside,” notes Pete. “Johnny managed to deliver some big hits to Austin Sly there, but it took everything he had!” “Well if that’s all he has in the tank to begin with then we have a pretty sad situation on our hands,” spits King. Just then Johnny finally presses forward – rolling over to his stomach and pushing up to his feet… and standing back to his feet to a rousing cheer from the crowd! “Austin’s getting back up to his feet too now,” reports Pete, “though I think he’s hurting a bit more than the Barracuda is right now!” “Pain is so overrated these days, anyway,” replies King. “You have to remember, Pete, Austin is totally focused – he’s not going to let a nagging body part override that!” The two converge on each other, moving onto the steel ramp way, with the crowd on both sides cheering them on, “and this could be the final stand!” exclaims Pete. “They’ve moved this fight up to the unforgiving, serrated, steel entrance ramp – I don’t think they’ll want to take many hits on top of that!” “Johnny probably moved to the ramp so he can take the first chance he has to split to backstage,” says King. “Damn chicken shit!” Austin whips his arm around and nails Dangerous, right in the open gash on his forehead! WHAM! The Barracuda stumbles back and growls in pain, but then comes right back with a punch of his own! CRACK! “How much more punishment can these two possibly dish out!?” WHACK! “I don’t know, Pete, but Johnny’s stunned!” SMACK! Johnny staggers backward, looking very much like he could fall over at any second with the final blow Austin dealt. The sight is one that is greatly welcomed by Austin – smiling wickedly he advances towards his opponent as he bears down hard on his knuckles, and swings with enough force to knock the head off a statue… WHOOSH! “NO! Johnny only feigned!’ exclaims Pete, as Johnny quickly dodges the blow and under-hooks Austin’s arm as it passes by him! He grabs hold of Sly’s other arm and locks in a quick full nelson before lifting him up… then once he reaches the apex, Johnny slings him down, face-first, and directly into the steel ramp! WHAAAAAM!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “DANGEROUS DRIVER!” calls Pete. “He nearly plowed Austin’s head straight through that ramp this time!” Johnny floats over and pulls Austin’s arm between his legs then locks his fingers around his opponent’s chin and viciously pulls back with a cross-face submission! “Johnny has the Interrogator locked on!” exclaims Pete, as the crowd rises up, cheering loudly for the Barracuda! “There’s no where to go – no ropes to break this. Austin Sly can’t possibly hold out!” Austin cries out in pain, though tries his hardest to suppress it - to push the pain back from his mind. However, much like Pete had already stated, there was nothing he could do to stop this, and he has no choice but to give in to the Barracuda… TAP! TAP! TAP! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! Herrington quickly signals for the timekeeper to ring the bell then orders Johnny to break the hold. DING DING DING!!! “After the Flesh” begins thumping through the Trump Plaza and Herrington pulls the Secret Agent up to his feet and raises his arm up in victory. “The winner of this match by submission,” bellows Funyon. “JOOOHNNY ‘THE BAAAAARAAAAACUDAAAAAAAA’ DAAAANGEROUS!!!!” “Hot damned!” cries King. “I should’ve known that Johnny would come out on top in a match with no rules - he can’t ever play by them to begin with!” “I’d look at it as he effectively used the stipulation to gather up the victory,” counters Pete. “As far as Austin Sly goes, he may have lost here, but I think he showed a tremendous amount of drive – he could easily compete for the ICTV title after this!” “Whatever,” snips King. “We’ll see a better outcome in our next match. Landon Maddix versus Sacred is up next, and this time the World Heavyweight Championship is on the line!” Johnny staggers up the rest of the ramp, wiping some of the blood off his forehead before giving a final shout-out to the fans with a arm raised out to them… As we: FADE OUT. Edited January 15, 2005 by Chuck Woolery Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 (edited) The Trump Plaza is buzzing with excitement after a nightlong of pure, unadulterated wrestling, and as the show returns from a commercial break, that energy starts to intensify. The fans know that the best is always saved for last in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and tonight, that sentiment will go unaltered! “Welcome back to Storm, ladies and gentlemen!” bellows the voice of Longdogger Pete, as the cameras make a final sweep of the fans before returning to the announce table. “Up next will be a undoubtedly BRUTAL match!” “I cannot believe this match was booked,” says the Suicide King. “How can Spike Jenkins just be booked against Dace Night in this type of match?” “Well, Dace and Spike have such a long and bloody history,” starts Pete. “This will be another chapter in the long running feud that is Spike Jenkins and Dace Night!” “Spike said earlier tonight that he was ready to die AND that he was willing to take Dace to hell with him TONIGHT!” says King. “I’m just scared that Spike doesn’t know what he is getting himself into.” “King, I truly believe that deep down, Spike respects Dace Night and is happy to be his first opponent back,” Says LDP. “And vice versa!” “I truly believe that you are an imbecile.” “Thanks, King,” says LDP. “Anyway…OFF TO THE RING!” *Ding Ding Ding* The bell rings to gain the attention of the crowd, as the focus is shifted Funyon. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a 420 Light Tube Death Match!!!” The crowd roars in approval as Funyon continues on. “First…making his way to the ring…” Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, the SWF Cruiserweight Champion and Revolution Zero member makes his way out. The New Jersey crowd goes ape shit as they tear Spike apart. Instead of his black hoodie, Spike stands with a pair of jeans, a pair of black converse, a black Revolution Zero t-shirt, and his wrists heavily taped up. The SWF Cruiserweight Title is strapped firmly around his waist, as he stops at the top of the entranceway. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. “DACE IS GONNA KILL YOU! DACE IS GONNA KILL YOU!” “Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty Five Pounds. He hails from Hollywood, California. He is a member of REVOLUTION ZERO!!” Funyon coughs to try and speak over the loud crowd. “He is the current reigning and defending SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION!!!! HE IS ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIKE JENKINS!!!!” “FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” “Well, I wonder who the fans are rooting for.” The fans continue as Spike walks around the ring. He makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Spike just stands there, just allowing the crowd to get louder and louder. “SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS!” Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. Spike walks into his corner, unstrapping the SWF Cruiserweight Title from his waist. Referee Tommy Gun takes the Cruiserweight title from Jenkins and hands it to ring crewmember. Spike stands in the corner, waiting for… “AND HIS OPPONENT!!” booms Funyon. "Painkiller" by Death kicks in a drum solo as the lights flash red and white to the beats. The opening scream kicks in white pyro lighting up the ramp from bottom to top before the song kicks into full gear as Dace walks out. “ DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT!” “Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Fifty-Five pounds! He hails from Birmingham, England! HE IS THE ‘PRINCE OF HORRORCORE!!!’ HE IS DACE…” “FUCKING!!!!!!” “…NIGHT!!!!” Dace walks down through the smoke and pyro. He slightly acknowledges the fans, as he walks around the light tubes and climbs into the ring. He gets into the ring and throws the Metal Horns up to the crowd, to a loud pop. “This crowd is going nuts…” “DACE IS GONNA KILL YOU! DACE IS GONNA KILL YOU!” “Well…something really woke them up,” says LDP. Both men stand in opposite corners, eyeing each other down. The crowd is ECSTATIC with anticipation, as the crowd is split on cheering Dace and booing Jenkins. “LETS GO DACE! FUCK HIM UP! LETS GO DACE! FUCK HIM UP!” *Ding Ding Ding* “And this match is underway!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!!!!!” Both men calmly walk out of their corner, continuing their stare down. It is broken, however, as both men begin to circle the middle of the ring. “Jenkins NEEDS to watch out for Dace Night’s strikes. Dace is rusty after his long absence, so keep him on the mat and DON’T LET HIM HIT YOU!” says King. “Dace just needs to knock Spike out. Not to mention, they are in Dace’s element with the light tubes around ringside.” “Do I need to bring up Damnation in a Box?” questions King. “Spike held his own in that match with Dace.” “And he lost, too.” They enter to lock up, slowly getting a feel for each other. Dace quickly goes for a spin kick, not looking to make contact, but enough to send Spike backwards. Spike seems unconcerned for it and they both continue circling. “DACE IS GONNA KILL YOU! DACE IS GONNA KILL YOU!” Both men enter the center of the ring and lock their right hands in a Roman Greco Knuckle Lock…and then lock the left hand. They both struggle for control, but Spike drops down to the mat and rolls backwards, twisting the arms of Dace around. Dace nudges Spike back into a corner, before dropping to the mat and swinging Spike over with a version of an arm drag. Both hit the mat and immediately get to their feet into a stand off. “FUCK YOU SPIKE! LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! LETS GO DACE!” They both go back to circling the ring and locking up in the middle with a collar-elbow tie up. Again, another fight for control, which Dace wins by rubbing his wrist into the face of Jenkins and pushing him back into the corner. Spike reverses it, however, and holds Dace in the corner. Rubbing his wrist into the face, Spike gives Dace a piece of his own medicine. Spike backs out of the corner, a grin over his face at how he just treated his arch-nemesis. “LETS GO DACE! LETS GO DACE!” Dace walks out of the corner and another circling around the ring ensues. They meet in the center and lock up in a collar-elbow tie up. Dace wins this battle, wrenching the arm of Jenkins into an arm wringer. Dace holds Spike by the wrist, while Spike tries to maneuver out of it. Spike turns his body to Dace, making Dace’s hold into a hammerlock variant. He goes behind Dace and locks his hands together, breaking Dace’s wristlock. Dace breaks one of Spike’s arms free and brings it back into an arm wringer. Spike pushes Dace away to give himself room and goes to the mat, rolling forward and flipping onto his feet. Spike grabs Dace’s arm and reverses into his own arm wringer. Dace tries to think of a counter, quickly spinning underneath it and turning it into his own arm wringer. Spike goes to the mat again and rolls forward and turns to his side. He climbs up to his feet, side steps Dace, and pushes Dace down to one knee with a boot to the back of the knee. Spike breaks the arm wringer and slides around to the front of Dace, locking in a front face lock. Dace spins out of it, bringing Spike face first to the mat and locking in a hammerlock. Spike pushes himself up into a sitting position and up to his feet, with Dace still behind him. Both men are on their feet. Spike reaches behind him, locking his free hand around the head of Dace and drops to one knee, flipping Night over with a snap mare. Spike gets to his feet and backs away, as does Dace. “Some great chain wrestling by these two wrestlers in a match where we thought we would see none!” exclaims LDP. “But if you noticed, Spike has won each encounter. Dace may have been one of the top mat wrestlers BEFORE he left, but now he is all washed up and rusty!” “King, I do not…what in the heck? These fans are getting way out of control.” “FUCK HIM UP DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK HIM UP DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” Both men stand in the corner and quickly take their eyes off each other as they go through the rabid crowd. The crowds want Spike dead and they want Dace to kill him. Both men get the message. It is only a matter of time now. They both enter the center of the ring, ready for a fight. They get a collar-elbow tie up, which is broken right away by Dace who NAILS Spike with a forearm to the face. *CRACK* Dace wields back and smacks Spike across the face again with a forearm shot! *CRACK* Spike takes the blow and retaliates with a forearm to the face of his own! *CRACK* Dace responds with a third forearm to the face! *CRACK* Spike leans back and slaps his hand across the chest of Dace with a knife-edged chop! *SMACK* But Dace retaliates with his own knife-edged chop across the chest! *SMACK* BUT SPIKE COMES BACK WITH HIS OWN KNIFE-EDGED CHOP! *SMACK* AND DACE COMES BACK WITH ANOTHER ONE OF HIS OWN! *SMACK* Spike stumbles back but swings a forearm at the face of Dace Night! *CRACK* Before Dace can respond, Spike grabs him in a side headlock! “LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” “We have now entered the hard hitting portion of this match.” “At least Spike is trying to stay away from those strikes with that side headlock now applied.” Notes The Suicide King. Dace pulls Spike back into the ropes and pushes him off into the opposite ropes. Spike runs into the ropes and comes charging back into a shoulder block…and neither men budge! They both stand in their places, staring each other down…until Spike breaks off into the ropes again. Spike charges off the ropes into another shoulder block by Dace…AND NEITHER MEN MOVE! Spike charges into the ropes for a third time and comes running back into ANOTHER SHOULDER BLOCK….NO! SPIKE ELBOWS DACE IN THE FACE AND DACE HITS THE MAT! “BOOOOOOO! FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” BUT DACE GETS RIGHT BACK UP! “The crowd is going crazy and neither men are giving in an inch!” “LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” Dace walks over to his opponent and SLAPS HIM RIGHT IN THE FACE! *SMACK* “OOOOH!” yelps LDP. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” AND SPIKE RESPONDS WITH A FOREARM TO THE FACE! *CRACK* BUT DACE ABSORBS THE BLOW AND SLAPS SPIKE ACROSS THE FACE!!! *SMACK* WHICH SPIKE RESPONDS WITH A KNIFE-EDGED CHOP ACROSS THE CHEST!! *SMACK* AND DACE DOESN’T EVEN FLINCH AND RESPONDS WITH A SLAP!!! *SMACK* Spike grabs Dace by the arm and pushes him back into the corner. Spike leans back and DRIVES his forearm into the face of Dace! *CRACK* Spike leans back and smacks Dace with a knife-edged chop! *SMACK* Spike pulls Dace out of the corner and slams his forearm into the back of Night! *CRACK* Dace falls face first to the mat…but INSTANTLY GETS BACK UP TO HIS FEET… AND HE KNIFE-EDGE CHOPS SPIKE! *SMACK* AND AGAIN *SMACK* AND AGAIN *SMACK* AND AGAIN *SMACK* Spike grabs both of Dace’s legs and takes them out from underneath him, bringing them both to the ground. Spike starts throwing right and left hands at the face of Dace, who is trying to cover up and strike at the same time!!! “TAKEDOWN BY JENKINS!” shouts LDP. “Spike takes Dace Night down!” Spike pounds away at Dace, but Dace is able to use his legs to push the enraged Cruiserweight Champion off. Spike climbs to his feet, as does Dace. They both go to attack, but meet in the center of the ring again. They eye each other done again, as the crowd continues with their savage chants. “LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! LETS GO DACE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” Both men stare at each other…but Spike smacks Dace across the face! *Smack* Dace responds with his own slap across the face!!! *SMACK* AND SPIKE COMES BACK WITH A FOREARM TO THE FACE! *CRACK* AND ANOTHER FOREARM!!! *CRACK* Dace stumbles back as Spike spins around… …ROARING ELBOW!!!!! *CRACK* “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” BUT DACE NIGHT COMPLETELY FUCKING NO SELLS IT! AND HE HITS SPIKE WITH A FOREARM TO THE FACE!!! *CRACK* AND ANOTHER!!! *CRACK* AND ANOTHER THAT SENDS SPIKE INTO THE CORNER!!! *CRACK* Spike wobbles in the corner trying to regain his balance, as Dace spins around… AND ROARING FUCKING ELBOW!!!!!!!!!! *CRACK* “OH MY GOD!” cries The Suicide King. “I think that roaring elbow may have broken Spike’s jaw!” “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” Spike slumps down in the corner, holding his face in his hands. The camera gets a clear shot of his face, his entire bottom lip completely busted open with blood pouring down his chin. Dace stands in the ring victorious, as the crowd cheers him on. Dace points to the outside of the ring and the crowd goes nuts. “DACE FUCKING NIGHT! DACE FUCKING NIGHT! DACE FUCKING NIGHT!” Dace slips out of the ring and down to the floor. He grabs about a half a dozen to eight light tubes and slides them into the ring. He slides in right behind them and gets to his feet. “Dace has the light tubes in the ring. This is VERY dangerous for Jenkins,” Says LDP. “Remember kids, don’t try this at home.” Spike tries to pick himself out of the corner, but Dace grabs him by the hair and pulls him into the middle of the ring. With Spike knelt over; Dace wields back and drives his knee into his opponents face!! *CRACK* Dace leans back and sends another knee into Spike’s face!! *CRACK* Dace leans back a third time and sends another knee into Spike’s face… …But Spike sweeps it away. Dace turns to Spike, who goes to kick him in the gut, but Dace catches it…and meets an enziguri! Both men crumble to the mat, exhausted from their striking exchange. “FUCK YOU SPIKE! YOU SUCK! FUCK YOU SPIKE! YOU SUCK!” “Spike just luckily enough to hit that enziguri!” Spike holds his face as he climbs to his feet. Dace comes up right behind him, holding the back of his head. Both meet in the center of the ring, where Spike forearms the side of Dace’s head! *CRACK* Spike grabs Dace by the wrist and Irish whips him across the ring. Dace hits the ropes and comes charging back towards Spike. Spike lifts his boot into the air, ready for a boot to the face, but Dace ducks it. Spike turns around to meet Dace, who spins around for a Roaring Elbow!! …But Spike ducks underneath it! Dace turns around to meet Spike who spins around…and Rolling Lariat!! Both men hit the mat! Spike covers Dace, hooking the leg! ONE! TW—NO! DACE KICKS OUT! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” Spike rolls off Dace, climbs to his knees and takes a breather. “Dace Night kicks out at two after the rolling lariat!” states LDP. “Spike got a two, but you need a three in this game!” “Thanks for that. It’s not like everyone already knows that,” says LDP. Spike climbs up to his feet and stumbles backwards…into the light tubes. Dace climbs to his knees, woozy from the lariat. Spike grabs a light tube, calmly walks over to Dace…AND SWINGS THE LIGHT TUBE BASEBALL BAT STYLE ACROSS THE SIDE OF THE HEAD OF DACE NIGHT!!! “OH MY GOD!!!” “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Dace grabs the side of his head, screaming in agonizing pain. Spike grabs Dace by his hair and turns his face to the side and BEGINS DRIVING THE CUT UP END OF THE LIGHT TUBE INTO DACE’S EAR! OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN INTO THE EAR!! “FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” “I can’t believe this is happening right in front of us!” squeals LDP. “I think Spike won’t over the deep end.” Spike tugs on Dace’s hair again and BEGINS STABBING DOWN ON THE FOREHEAD OF DACE! A gash quickly forms over the forehead of the Prince of Horrocore and blood starts to pour out. “And Dace Night has been busted open in his first match back!” “What a surprise,” replies a sarcastic Suicide King. Spike tosses the light tube to the side and pulls the bloody Dace to his feet. Dace woozily stumbles around, as Spike gets behind him. He wraps his arms around Dace’s waist, lifts him straight into the air and drops back, driving Dace on the back of his head with a backdrop suplex! “DAAAAAAAAAAANGEROUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSS!!!!!” shouts King, “It is so funny that he is hitting this move on Dace. You know, it is one of Dace’s signature moves.” “Yeah, it is very ironic, King.” “FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE! FUCK YOU SPIKE!” Spike climbs to his feet. Dace stands knelt over on his knees, holding the back of his head. Spike stands over the fallen Dace, grabbing him by his hair and pulling his head up. Spike locks his arms around the throat of Dace, his legs around the waist and the inside of Dace’s legs and falls to the mat with a Rear Naked Choke! “Read naked choke! Dace’s whole face is cut up! This could end the match!” Dace flails his arms around and tries to kick his legs, but is obviously losing oxygen fast… “PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP! PLEASE DON’T TAP!” Spike pulls back, forcing close Dace’s windpipe. Dace flails around for a little bit longer…but the blood loss and lack of oxygen gets to him… ONE! TWO! THREE! Dace’s hand drops three times. *Ding Ding Ding* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “Here is your winner, via choke out…‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins!!!!!!!” booms Funyon from the house mic. “Black Label” starts up again as Spike releases Dace and rolls off of him. Medics quickly enter the ring, checking on both men who are fatigued and tired. Some members of the crowd applaud the two competitors, while others throw trash around the ringside area. “Spike Jenkins finally defeats his arch rival in Dace Night in Night’s first match back in the SWF! A brutal match that it was, plagued by crowd interaction and just some of the nastiest strikes you’ll see in this business,” says LDP, “Fans’, later tonight, the SWF World Heavyweight Title will be on the line as Landon Maddix defends against Revolution Zero member, Sacred, only on STORM!” [FIN] Edited January 15, 2005 by Chuck Woolery Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 “Sacred.” Andrew Blackwell turns around and sees five figures in the doorway of the Revolution Zero dressing room. In order to allow him to focus and concentrate in the build-up to his World Title bout, the rest of the stable had left. Now they’re back. “I told you on Smarkdown that you had a decision to make,” Toxxic says. “If you say you want out then I give you my word that we will stand aside and let you go to the ring, where you and Landon can tear chunks out of each other. After tonight, I will be coming for whichever one of you holds that belt.” Blackwell scans the faces. Sean Davis is impassive, as ever. Spike Jenkins, bloodied and belligerent. Marcus Washington evidently doesn’t trust him, and even the usually ebullient Jet seems reserved. In front of them all, fixing them with his steel-grey stare, is Toxxic. “Or you can stay with us,” the straight-edger continues, “in which case we will keep Martial Law, Mak Francis or anyone else off your backs… but you will still be a member of Revolution Zero, not the leader. And I’ve warned you what will happen if you go back on your word.” Sacred nods, ever so slightly. Toxxic raises one eyebrow in response. “Sorry Andrew. But you’re not leaving this room until we get an answer.” Sacred looks from face to face, weighing each one up, judging their likely reactions. Then he brushes the bangs back from his face and stands up. “Very well…” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 As the last commercial break fades out, and SWF Storm returns, the customary rock stylings of the Storm theme are peculiarly absent. Instead, the camera simply shows the entire arena, packed to the rafters. The loud buzzing indicating the crowd is at a fever pitch as they know Main Event Time draws near. “Welcome back to SWF Storm, folks, just in time for our MAIN EVENT!” Longdogger Pete proudly proclaims as he looks out amongst the plethora of rabid fans, while King just soaks up the atmosphere, seeing it all before. “Change has swept over the Federation tonight; indeed, the way this entire federation is run will never be the same! And maybe, too, new allegiances have been forged, and some torn apart...” Without a sound, a graphic suddenly appears on the SmarkTron as every head turns… LANDON MADDIX Suddenly, a picture of the new champion is shown, title slung over his shoulder with Megan Skye and Martial Law at his back, his accomplishments listed below. VS. SACRED The challenger’s visage flashes on the screen as well, but Revolution Zero are strangely absent, replaced instead by a large question mark. Sacred’s accomplishments, too, are shown below, dwarfing those of the younger Champion and planting a tiny seed of doubt in the fans minds. IN A STREET FIGHT… FOR THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP! … “RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The entire crowd erupts in orgasmic fashion, the Main Event drawing ever so close. The crowd’s allegiance is in no doubt as the support seen for Maddix is overwhelming, signs dotted everywhere in the sea of fans proclaiming their love for La Cucaracha. Of course, on the other side of the coin is the usual anti-Rev0 sentiment, expect for a solitary few signs that state: “Sacred, do the right thing.” The camera suddenly flies through the crowd, before settling on our two commentators as always, ready to call their first World Title bout as a team. “God I hate you.” “Quiet. Indeed folks, our World Title match slowly but surely approaches! Tonight, Sacred will again try to reach the top of the mountain and claim the World Title for his own, and Landon Maddix begins to forge his destiny as one of the greatest Champions. Whatever the case may be, whatever the outcome, the fed will feel the aftermath for some time to come!” “No doubt from Landon’s giant ego if he should somehow walk out of Atlantic City the champion, but if any one can end Maddix’ reign of terror before it can even begin, it’s Sacred…” Almost on cue, a voice is head through the P.A system… "There is nothing wrong with your television set.“ “Do not attempt to adjust the picture." ”…I will control the horizontal…” “I? No we?” “…I will control the vertical….” “You can’t make anything of it, Pete. At least, I hope not…” “…I am controlling transmission...." These cold words and the haunting tune of “Tainted” brings a chill to the arena as every fan has goose bumps, more so for the match they are about to witness as the lights fade. The Australian soon makes his appearance, walking down the long ramp way as Funyon takes up position in the centre of the ring, dusting off his tux before announcing in his booming voice… “Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is a STREET FIGHT! And it is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” The raucous cheers make it hard for Funyon to continue, but he prepares to make an announcement that will shut them up. “Introducing first… from Adelaide, Australia. He weighs in at two hundred and sixteen pounds… please welcome a former World Heavyweight Champion and alleged member of Revolution Zero… he is, SSSSSAAAACCCRRREEEEEDDDDDD!” “I’ve had the honour of meeting this man in the ring numerous times throughout my career,” King says, “and he is, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the toughest I’ve ever faced. I didn’t envy Landon Maddix before this match and I SURE as hell don’t now.” The crowd, for the most part, boo the Australian, his infamous deeds still leave a sour taste in their mouth, but all of them hope that he’s left that all behind him, but the answer to that won’t come yet. They have no time to discuss the gossip amongst themselves though as a welcome sound blares through the house speakers- "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* The post-riff part of "Megalomaniac" by Incubus hits, as from behind the curtain steps Landon Maddix, stopping at the top of the ramp and thrusting his hands out to his side! The big gold belt around his waist glimmers in the lights as he turns back as always like a gentleman, waiting for Megan to come out from behind the curtain, giving Landon a reassuring wink and a lovely smile. With her job now done, they both walk down the ramp, receiving a shower of applause and adulation as Funyon gets on the mic to announce the Champion’s arrival, but the crowd hopes it won’t be the last time he announces his name… “…And his opponent!” bellows Funyon as Maddix and Megan both enter the ring from opposite sides, watching Sacred carefully as he simply leans against the turnbuckles in wait. “From Hurron, South Dakota. He weighs in at approximately two hundred and twenty pounds… he is the leader of Martial Law and YOUR current reigning WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… he is, LLLLAAAAAANNNNNDDDDDDOOOONNNNN MMMMMMMMAAAAAAADDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXX!” “Don’t take anything away from this man,” Pete warns his cohort, looking up at the champion with a sense of pride as Maddix hands his belt to the referee Eddy Long, kissing his fingertips and touching the gold for he believes will be the first of many times. “At just twenty years of age this man has accomplished more than anyone else, even the former champion himself. Looking at him I can’t help but compare him to El Luchadore Magnifico, and hope that Landon’s reign is as long and successful as his!” “Funny you should bring up Magnifico…” King answers with a smirk. “Who defeated him for the title? I don’t think it was Chris Storm, and it wasn’t Madrac…” Megan exits the ring, but stays close by the canvas, shouting encouragement to her man as Funyon exits the ring as the two men approach the centre of the squared circle. The world title is held aloft, drawing massive cheers from the crowd, before the title is given to the time keeper and Long goes over the rules, explaining that there are none. A mutual smile crosses both man’s face as they each take a step back as Long points to the ringside… *DING! DING! DING!* With that, the bell is rung and this match is officially under way… if only someone would tell that to the two men in the ring! Maddix and Sacred square off, two worthy opponents sizing each other up, not giving an inch. Through their previous encounters all they’ve learnt is that there is still much to know about each other, and every move is watched and studied. This lull in the fighting doesn’t last for long however as the fans make themselves heard in boisterous fashion, shouting at the top of their lungs… “LET’S GO LAN – DON!”[/i] *clap-clap-clap-clap-clap* “LET’S GO LAN – DON!”[/i] *clap-clap-clap-clap-clap* The always dashing and ever so cocky World Champion smiles as he looks out at the sea of fans, then back at his opponent, who remains in a strange stance, neither on the offensive or defensive. Landon realizes Sacred’s mind, at least some part, has to be elsewhere, thinking about Rev0, and takes this opportunity to attack, aiming a lightning quick forearm at Sacred’s jaw! But it misses as the Australian dances to his left, striking Maddix with a back elbow as he twirls back around! “Oddly enough, it’s the champion who makes the first mistake,” Pete notes as Maddix rubs his jaw, glaring fiercely at the Australian. “Whatever his decision may be, Sacred’s made it and he’ll stick with it with no regrets, and his mind will be totally focused on this bout, and Landon has to recognize that.” “I’ve witnessed it personally before,” answers King, watching Sacred intently as he shows the slightest glimmer of a grin. “His mind may be troubled and tormented, but he always has a plan!” The champion doesn’t let it get to him. Instead, he simply looks back as the champion nods and grins in return… before swinging his arm around wildly, connecting with a stiff forearm blow that staggers the Australian! Sacred is momentarily stunned by the hit and the speed in which Maddix showed, but answers with an equally forceful forearm! *WHAM!* *THUD!* *WHAM!* *THUD!* “Both men possess a devastating forearm arsenal,” states the Longdogger as both arsenals are thrown at each other, both competitors exchanging blows back and forth! “But they both cancel each other out! This could go on forever!” “Just like every World Title match, I wish it could,” King answers whimsically, “but both men have to play to their strengths and stamp their influence and dominance on this match. For Sacred, it’s taking his opponent down to the mat and controlling his every move. For Maddix, it’s calling on his Hispanic heritage.” “You mean his unique, flashy and high flying style which he has made famous over his career?” “I would have said cheating and stealing gold from honest and hardworking Englishman.”’ “Of course you would.” Despite the bickering at the announce desk, Sacred is already three steps ahead of the Suicide King, luring the Champion in before ducking underneath a forearm shot and hurling Maddix onto his back with a fireman’s carry takedown. Landon tries to duck out to the side before he’s trapped on the mat, but Sacred’s quickness on the canvas shines through as he lock on a headscissors! “Just as I said, keep the opponent down on the mat, the result is as good as-“ … But Maddix suddenly kips up, breaking the strangle hold and receiving a round of applause! Sacred is in an awkward position as he tries to climb back to his feet, but Landon is on him like a bad rash, leaping onto his opponents shoulders and snapping him over with a Hurricanrana! Even the Australian is stunned as he tries to recover and get back to a vertical base, but Landon cuts him off as he’s on his haunches, knocking him through the middle rope with a seated Dropkick! “It’s going to be mightily difficult for either man to easily dominate when these two have studied each other so extensively!” bellows Pete as Sacred wearily climbs to his feet while Maddix leans over the ropes, taunting him to get back into the ring while the fans go nuts. “…Oh, I’m sorry King, you were saying something?” Clearly audible grumbling can be heard over the mic, but King isn’t too worried. “That was a lucky break, nothing more! Maddix is just an annoying fly, an insect, the kind Sacred had to put up with back down under, but like all flies, Maddix is going to die after two weeks.” “…I think you lost your train of thought.” “I do too.” Sacred groans, his weary body still not properly conditioned since his return, but he makes up for this with his smarts, stumbling around on the outside, just waiting for Maddix to take a risk and try a suicide dive. Maddix puts a kibosh on this plan, remembering the risk he took which gave Sacred this title shot, and wisely stands his ground, and waiting for his opponent to make the next move. For once the fans cheer Landon’s restraint as Sacred wryly grins, nodding to his opponent as he tries to climb back onto the ring apron. Maddix though won’t let this happen, darting forward and driving his shoulder into Sacred’s midsection, the Australian barely able to hold onto the top rope to keep himself steady. *BAM!* *BAM!!* Firing off a few forearm shots to keep his opponent dazed and confused, Maddix takes Sacred and hooks him into position for a vertical suplex, attempting to lift him over the top rope! Just as it seems Sacred will shift his weight and land back on his feet, the fans begin to will Landon on, their cheers slowly increasing as Maddix hauls Sacred into the air! But the Australian still won’t let his opponent best him, escaping from Landon’s grasp and falling behind the champion. Before Maddix can answer the Aussie’s counter, Sacred slinks his arms around Landon’s waist, forgoes locking his hands together to give him an extra split second to push Maddix into the strands. The champion’s instincts and reflexes are on tonight as he manages to cling onto the top rope, letting Sacred harmlessly somersault backward and break his grasp. As Sacred rolls back to his feet, Landon shuffles forward, giving the Australian almost zero time to react as he fires off a Superkick! “Sweet Cuca Musi- NO!” is Pete’s abrupt cry as Sacred’s alert mind is up to the task of countering, dodging the blow and grabbing a hold on Landon’s leg, gripping it tightly between both arms! Landon is left hopping on one foot, at the Australian’s mercy as both men look at each other for just one solitary second before Sacred dispatches Maddix with a Dragon Screw Leg Whip! Landon hits the canvas with a thud, trying to roll out to the side and escape, but Blackwell still has a tight grip around his leg, and uses it to fall to the mat, using his own legs to grapevine Landon’s! “An elementary leg lock applied, but at least he has Maddix down on the mat, and more importantly, gives himself time to recover,” Longdogger observes as Eddy Long dives down and asks Maddix the question, but all he gets is a verbal tongue-lashing as Maddix swears at him angrily in Spanish. “With this being a Street Fight, a truly hardcore environment, I would think this match would greatly favor Maddix’s style. Outside of keeping his opponent restrained temporarily, what use has Sacred’s strategy got?” “Please, Pete, don’t embarrass yourself,” King chortles in reply. “Sacred has been in many hardcore wars over the years, I can see the scars myself. Hell, I put some there personally, but Sacred knows this will be a long and ferocious battle; if he can use his technical knowledge to its fullest now, he can gain some momentum and possibly psyche Landon out, and remember, there’s no rope breaks in this bout!” Clamping down further on Landon’s leg, Sacred takes a few well earned breaths as Maddix squirms to get away, but Sacred locks his legs together further to prevent any movement. What he doesn’t do, however, is keep an eye on Maddix’s left leg, as the Spaniard suddenly turns his body and plants a boot right between the eyes! Sacred is determined to hold on but Maddix keeps kicking and finally breaks free, crawling forward to the ropes to get to his feet, but Sacred reaches forward and claps onto his right leg once again, keeping Maddix in place while he shambles forward, sitting on Landon’s spine and wrenching back with a single Leg Crab! “He’s got the gift of the gab,” King takes pleasure in telling us all, “and hey, I just rhymed!” Pete begins to say something, looks at King in confusion, then turns back to the action, “that he does, King. Targeting the same leg with two different holds, as he looks to slow the Champion down and reduce his effectiveness with his most potent attacks.” “Translation: Landon can’t flip flop around and use HIMSELF as a weapon. Maddix may have expected something different, as last time Sacred fought for the World Title against a wrestler much in the same vein and style as Maddix; he targeted the arm to take away his finisher. It worked too, like all of Sacred’s plans.” Maddix can see the ropes clearly, only inches away, but knows they offer no sanctuary. Sacred, in almost silent glee continues to angle Landon’s leg at sharp angles, attempting to rip and tear at his knee. Landon realizes the severity of the situation, knowing he can’t let Sacred take control so early, and as he looks forward at the fans, his beautiful ring escort and his title belt resting in the timekeepers hands, he desperately counters, shucking his leg violently away from Sacred’s hold, turning himself onto his back and planting a boot into Sacred’s spine, pushing him away! The Australian grunts, already to his feet and looking to inflict more damage, but Maddix dives forward and stops him dead with a…. “YYYYEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” The fans all erupt in orgasmic fashion as Longdogger cries, “LOW BLOW!” … “…ooooohhhhhhhh…” It takes a few seconds to sync in before the male members of the audience all cringe and groan, just as Sacred does, holding the afflicted area as Maddix climbs to his feet, winking to Megan and the crowd before grabbing Sacred around the neck, dragging him into an inverted Facelock, spinning around and… *WHAM!* … Dropping an elbow on Sacred’s chest and pounding him into the mat! Landon moves into the cover, with Eddy Long sliding over for ONE! TWO!! … But Sacred kicks out, still a lot of energy and resolve left. “Bah,” dismisses King, “unlike you, I’m not won over by a few ‘cool’ moves, and besides, he used a low blow! That’s not befitting of a true World champion, not at all.” “King, you hit so many low blows as Champion I’m surprised Stevens can still procreate.” Sacred crawls out to the side, but Maddix doesn’t let him off that lightly, bringing the Australian back up and whipping him into the ropes. On Sacred’s return, Maddix lifts him into the air and spins him around, a Tilt-a-whirl neckbreaker on the cards! Yet Sacred still finds a way to counter, falling out of Landon’s grasp and landing right in front of him! Sacred instinctively tries to fight back, hooking his arm underneath Landon’s and trying to take him over with a Hip Toss, but Landon blocks it and counters at the same time, pivoting around, grabbing Sacred’s free arm and pulling him down to the mat with a Backslide! “Maddix showing Sacred the Junior League Jobber treatment!” shouts Pete as King shoots him a dirty look and Sacred’s shoulders are pinned to the mat for ONE! TWO!! TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE… … But Sacred hurls himself away from the move and stumbles across the mat in a desperate escape which makes the fans night! Landon, feeling a surge of energy, brings Sacred to his feet and again attempts an Irish Whip, but this time into the turnbuckles. Sacred reverses it with ease, hurtling Maddix sternum first into the turnbuckles with a thud, before Landon stumbles backward into Sacred’s waiting arms as he lifts the Champion into the air with a Back Drop Suplex! “… He escapes!” King shouts as Maddix slips free. “Damn it!” Landon falls behind the Australian like a cat, wrapping his arms around his waist like a bear and trying to Suplex him down like a German, but Sacred institutes a standing switch to counter! Instead of trying a Von Rundstedt of his own, Sacred heads down low, taking Landon’s feet out from under him with a double leg takedown, planting him on his face. Landon tries to claw his way towards the turnbuckles and get to his feet, but before he can, Sacred drops his knee down across Landon’s right leg, effectively pinning him down before… “…Sacred entwines his leg with Landon’s,” King calls as the fans look on in worriment, “locks it at a forty five degree angle… then launches forward and applies a Facelock to complete the STF! Just as it seemed Landon would overrun the Australian, he answers in brilliant fashion.” “But still, no weapons have been brought into the equation.” Pete replies in bemusement. “These two are effectively one win all, and with not just the title but pride on the line, they want to best each other using their own devices.” “Sacred should just take a chair and knock some sense into this kid,” King grunts, enjoying the visual in his mind. “Thinking he could be champion, HAH! That man there, wincing in pain, crying out to his woman, our champion? Don’t make me laugh.” “I remember you doing the exact same thing in the Seven Innings Stretch…” “Stop bringing him up!” King may have embellished a tad as Maddix doesn’t cry out for help, but he can’t hide the pain etched on his face as Sacred pulls back tighter in the Facelock and creating more pressure at the knee joint. Again, Sacred has time to recover, but now he pants more heavily, finding the little cockroach more than a handful… …As again he tries to counter! Maddix claws forward, only inches away from the turnbuckles. Sacred tries to corral him and pull him back but Maddix is persistent if nothing else and he grabs hold of the ropes, and at the exact same moment, shakes his leg free and hurls himself through the first and second ropes… *WHAM!* … Sending Sacred head first into the second turnbuckle pad! “What a unique counter!” Longdogger says, almost astonished. “Making the most of his surroundings and breaking the hold, showing experience and knowledge well beyond his years!” “Oh stop gushing…” King answers with a groan. “He may have escaped, but Sacred’s holds have to be taking their toll.” Landon and Sacred scamper across either side of the ring to create some distance between each other, taking a few moments, just a few, to rethink their respective plans, but again, we see that slight hint of a maniacal smile appearing on Andrew Blackwell’s face as he coolly flicks his hair back. Landon’s eyes narrow on the Australian, knowing he should be the one with a smile on his face, but as he hears the one side of the crowd roar to life and chant- “MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX!” -While the other side chant- “CON – VICT! CON – VICT! CON – VICT!” … Well, he can’t help but grin. The Australian shakes his head, refusing to let the crowd dictate his every move like Maddix, but he can sense victory and charges forward to put it beyond doubt. Landon takes a few careful steps backward as Sacred approaches, ready to throw himself at Maddix with a Kamikaze, except his eyes turn to Landon’s right leg… “…YYYYYEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!” Maddix avoids the debilitating blow by leapfrogging over the top of the rampaging Australian! The Sacred One stumbles as he misses his intended target but manages to halt himself right before hitting the turnbuckle pad for a second time. Breathing a sigh of relief the Australian turns back around only to see Maddix run towards him… *CCRRRUUUNNNCCCHHH!* … Leap into the air and connect with a STIFF Shining Wizard that knocks the Australian out cold! “The Australian bit off more than he could chew,” Pete notes happily, “and he may have underestimated the champion as Maddix shows he still has that famous spring in his step!” The crowd is on their feet as Landon dives over and hooks the far leg, summoning Long over to count ONE! TWO!! THHHHHRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE… KICKOUT! The fans sigh in disappointment, Landon holding up three fingers to Eddy Long, but the referee stays true to his count, holding up only the two. Maddix shrugs, brushing his blond hair away from his eyes as he gets to his feet, holding his arms out to the side and looking to the heavens above, much to the delight of the fans! He hides the obvious pain his leg is in extremely well, but Megan knows something is wrong. Still Maddix perseveres, climbing to his feet and waiting for his opponent to stir. Sacred holds his head, his brains scrambled, but he manages to work himself into a bent over position, his head still ringing. Maddix seizes this opportunity to sprint towards him, grabbing Sacred by the head and flipping forward… *SPLAT!* Driving Sacred’s face straight into the pine! “Unlike in the Seven Minute Challenge,” Pete notes, “Maddix waited until the perfect time to hit the Throwback, just as Sacred was dazed and making his headache even worse!” “You’re loving this aren’t you?” King bitterly replies. “Don’t you worry, though; Sacred will have the last laugh, provided he’s still conscious…” “Landon has focused all his attention on his standard game plan, relying on his high impact moves to take the opponent down and pin them as much as possible, while Sacred has focused more on submissions, and in a Street Fight environment, this may be the night his plan actually fails.” Pete’s grim forecast may just come true as Maddix rolls Sacred over, hooking the near leg precariously close to the ropes as Long hits the canvas for ONE! TWO!! NO! Maddix looks at Long, who points to the ropes, finding Sacred’s foot on the bottom strand! Landon stares wearily at the sometimes dubious referee, but Sacred still has some energy in the tank as he rolls under the bottom rope to the outside. Landon climbs to his feet, feeling the crowd’s enthusiasm spur him on as the Australian tries to climb to his feet, still with no idea where he is. Maddix decides the time is right for a little revenge as he backs into the ropes to build up speed, sprinting across the ring and leaping onto the top rope and springing off to the outside… “OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH…” *WHAM!* “YYYYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” “This time the Spaceman Plancha connects!” Pete triumphantly cries as the fans go absolutely wild, patting the champ on the back as he rolls out to the side. “Even you must give him some credit for that, King.” King just shakes his head in disbelief, “I just don’t get it. Sacred targets that right leg, puts on multiple submission maneuvers, and he can STILL jump around like a bloody jackrabbit! But now they’re on the outside, and anything can happen out here…” Both men lay sprawled out on the outside. Sacred lies a few feet away from Maddix, looking up at the lights, his vision blurry while the champion drapes himself over the crowd barrier as he receives the well-deserved pats on the back from his fans at ringside. Megan stands out of the way, but with a satisfied smile as Maddix climbs to his feet. He feels a sudden jolt in his leg, but shakes it out and continues to fight on, lifting the Australian back onto his jelly legs. Taking Sacred by the hand, Landon has only the cruelest intentions in mind as he looks out amongst the fans, hearing a tremendous ovation and deciding his next course of action. The Australian is suddenly propelled against his will across the concrete floor, unable to stop as a… *DONG!* … Steel ring post provides a suitable road block as the Australian’s skull SMASHES against the steel! “Landon used his lightning quick speed to hit a few moves in a row, stunning the Australian,” Pete notes, “before waiting until he had him right where he wanted him, making use of the Street Fight environment!” The hit has Sacred stumbling away, a cut clearly evident on his forehead! Landon takes the utmost pride in his work as he sets about making his opponent bleed just as he did Toxxic, rifling off forearm blows that stagger the Australian at the Spanish Announce table. Landon takes Sacred’s head, bringing it back before… *BAM!* -throwing it against the table! *BAM!* “OI!” *BAM!* “OI!” The fans impromptu chant even causes Maddix to smirk! *BAM!* “OI!” *BAM!* “OI! OI! OI!” Maddix finally ceases, letting Sacred fall to the concrete floor and crawl away, blood seeping through the gash in his forehead as he puts a hand to his forehead and wipes his bangs away. The dastardly Australian continues his slow crawl as Maddix leaps onto the announce desk, imploring the crowd as he once again throws his arms out, welcoming their cheers! “Get down you jacked up little shi-“ “King!” Pete suddenly cuts in. “Landon is feeling it. The crowd is feeling it. They can sense Landon’s first defense will be a successful one, and as the size of that cut increases on Sacred’s forehead, his chances of walking out Atlantic City the champion diminish before his eyes!” “Oh very clever,” King grunts, “but don’t you count your chickens before you hatch. It’s not over till the fat lady sings. Sacred hasn’t given up the ghost yet, because time heals all wounds!” “Uh oh, you’re falling back on cliché’s again. That’s never a good sign.” “Don’t put the cart before the horse!” Landon finally hops down from the announce desk, finding Sacred draping himself across the ring steps. Pulling up his knee pads, Landon gets a running start, again getting the crowd involved as they cry- “OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH…” -while Landon charges across the outside, ready to meet Sacred’s head with his knee and the steel steps! *WHAM!* “BBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” But Landon’s plans go awry as Sacred dives out to the side in ultimate desperation; taking Landon’s right leg and tripping him face first onto the steel steps with a Drop Toe Hold! The Spaniard hits with a thud, his nose taking the brunt of the impact as the Sacred One crawls away once again as he clings onto the time keeper like a long lost friend. Maddix recovers quickly, not allowing the momentum to be taken away from him as he gets to his feet and stalks the Australian, grabbing him by his long, black hair and bringing him to his fee- *BAM!!!* “Sacred just clocked Maddix with the World Title!” Pete yells in an uproar. “You can tell he’s getting desperate King when he falls back on using weapons to get the better of Maddix!” “Hey, rules are rules,” King answers with a smirk. “I’ll give Landon his quarter, it’s going to take a lot to squash the little cockroach, and a good title belt upside the head should do the trick.” Landon clumsily stumbles backward, but his eyes are still focused on Sacred, stumbling back towards his opponent as he takes yet another swing! *… WOOSH!* But Landon ducks and the title flies out of Sacred’s hands from the force put behind the swing! A quick boot to the gut brings Sacred into line, just long enough for Maddix to nail Sacred with a few forearms, before whipping him into the ring apron! But the wily Australian somehow manages to leap up onto the apron, keeping his balance. Maddix attempts to pull him down but Sacred won’t be denied as he kicks Landon back in the face, sending him hurtling backward. With just enough time on his hands and something needing to be done, and quickly, Sacred summons up enough strength and speed, hopping up onto the first rope… Then the second… “What’s he attempting?” Pete asks in vain, but everyone is too focused on the action to give an answer. “Is it the…” ..Before leaping off, getting enough spring to fly through the air and crash on top of Maddix… *CCCRRRAAAAASSSSHHHHHH!* …with a TRIPLE JUMP MOONSAULT! Sacred lands on top of Landon’s head as Maddix’ leg buckles underneath him and both men careen into the announce desk! “YES! YES! YES!” King cries in hysterics as the car wreck unfolds right in front of him, mangled bodies everywhere as the fans cry “Holy Shit!” “Usually it’s Landon known for his daredevil offense and suicide style, but Sacred pulled something out of his bag of tricks, perhaps the ultimate equalizer!” The crowd roars in disbelief, a mix of amazed cheers and spiteful boos as the Australian, having Maddix to thank for a softer landing, climbs back to his feet. The blood continues to trickle down his forehead, but it’s still not enough to keep him down. Maddix, on the other hand, cringes with pain, one hand holding his head and the other his leg. Andrew Blackwell knows now’s not the time to rest on his laurels with so much at stake and a fiercely determined opponent with much fight still left in him. Sacred takes the young Champion and lifts him to his feet, gaining a measure of payback as he whams his opponents head against the ring apron before sliding him underneath the bottom rope. He’s not done on the outside quite yet as he asks the time keeper to step aside politely as he brushes the hair from his face. Sacred thanks him kindly before snapping his steel chair up and bringing it with him into the ring! “Sacred has his favorite weapon in hand and a downed Champion in the centre of the ring. I shudder to think what he might do…” “He’s been pushed to the edge, there’s no doubt about that,” King finally admits, “Maddix has taken him to the distance on two separate occasions, and Sacred realizes he needs to use every trick in the book to put him away.” With the crowd roaring all around him, all chanting- “MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX!” -as one, Sacred climbs to his feet, a little worse for ware as blood drips down from his face and hits the canvas. The sight of his own blood doesn’t matter to Sacred; he’s willing to bleed for his art. But as long as he is, he wants Landon to bleed for his. Taking the steel chair in both hands, Sacred lines Landon up as the young World Champion shakily climbs to his feet, trying to gain his bearings as Sacred steps forward, swinging the chair with all his might… … *WOOSH!* …but Maddix ducks! The force Sacred put behind the shot forces him to stumble forward, allowing Maddix time to turn back around, meeting Sacred with a… *CRACK!* “WHOO!” “Maddix avoids the knockout blow and comes back with a vicious knife-edge hop!” is Pete’s joyful cry. *CRACK!* “WHOO!” He’s feeling exhausted though, both men are,” King intuitively points out, “there’s no long to go, it’ll come down to which man has enough will to be the last man standing on both legs… which in Landon’s case, may be a little difficult.” “MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX!” As the stiff chops ring out throughout the arena, Landon sends the bleeding Australian into the cables, awaiting his return. Sacred telegraphs Landon’s back body drop attempts and kicks him right in the face, knocking him back up straight. Sacred clenches his first and spins around, swinging with a wild forearm in an attempt to knock Landon’s head clear off… … But misses! Landon ducks underneath the blow like a pro, heading behind the Australian, grabbing him by the head and pulling him down to the mat… *WHAM!* …Hitting the Edge-O-Matic at just the right moment! “Just when it seems Maddix could be done for,” yells Pete, “he surprises up all again! They’re simply throwing whatever they have left at each other, and the crowd is loving it!” Indeed, the crowd’s roars of approval ring out in awe inspiring fashion. Landon grabs his head as he looks at them all, still chanting his name! “MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX!” Landon smiles with pain still etched on his face, feeling the surge of energy that brought him the World Title against Toxxic. Looking down at Sacred, he knows what he has to do as he heads to the top rope! “Maddix, bum leg and all, is going to end things from the top rope!” Pete cries. “That is the mark of a true champion, working through adversity to overcome the odds!” “He’s taking his sweet time about it,” grumbles King, still on the edge of his seat. “That leg has taken a lot of punishment, first form Sacred, then from Landon himself, doing everything he can to keep Sacred down.” Maddix finally reaches the summit, looking down at the centre of the ring where the Australian lies, motionless. With the crowd cheering behind him, still chanting his name, Maddix grunts as he leaps from the top rope, aiming his elbow for Sacred’s head! “MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD – DIX! MAD….” … *CCCRRAAAASSSSHHHH!!!* …NOBODIES HOME! “HE MISSED!” King shouts, throwing his arms into the air as Maddix hits the mat with a tremendous thud! “He took too long, and now Sacred is in the driver’s seat!” With the chair only a few inches away, Sacred wearily climbs to a wobbly vertical base. Landon lies in a heap, but his eyes remain open, looking at Megan and the crowd, not about to let the match slip away. Sacred decides he’ll do it for him, bringing Landon to his feet, heading behind the Spaniard and grabbing him in a double Chickenwing! Sacred starts to push Maddix down towards the chair, ready for the Cattle Mutilation! “Christian Blackwell first used this move in the JL, the Narcosynthesis onto a chair!” Pete recalls as the fans go nuts. “And now Sacred is going to use it to take the SWF title!” The Australian tries with all his might, all the energy he has left, to grind Landon’s face into the unrelenting steel chair, but Maddix plants his good leg forward, denying him that right! Just as Sacred tries one last time, Maddix uses his own momentum against him and flips him over his back and shakes him free! Sacred is stunned, Maddix finding yet a different way to counter his finisher, but still he climbs to his feet, but Maddix meets him with a kick to the stomach, grabbing him around the neck and… *BAM-CRACK!!!!* … Hitting him with a DDT RIGHT onto the STEEL CHAIR! “That’s it, it HAS to be over!” Pete clamors as he and King both stand from their seats as Eddy Long slides over, the crowd counting along with his count! ONE! TWO!!! TTTTHHHHHRRRREEEEEEEEEE!!!! … NOOOOOOO! KICKOUT! “Sacred’s still alive!” King announces with joy, the fans moaning in disbelief, but Long again only holds up the two fingers. “I don’t know how, but Sacred is holding on for dear life, but Maddix has him back on his feet…” “He may have kicked out then, but there’s no way he’s getting up from this!” Pete points to Maddix, King absolutely furious as Landon drags Sacred into the corner as he climbs up onto the second turnbuckle! The fans are now on their feet as one, their roars of approval give Maddix the sign he needs to leap off, spinning in mid-air, ready to plant Sacred’s face into the canvas with the CRASH LANDON! “NO!” Each commentator cries as Sacred shrugs Landon off at the last second, refusing to lie down. Maddix is thrown clear, landing awkwardly on his leg, causing him to stumble. Sacred still has a faraway look in his eyes, battling purely on instinct, but he sees Landon come towards him, his arsenal of moves severely limited by the pain shooting through his leg, but still he fires forward a Superkick using his left leg! “Maddix used the Superkick to win the Cold Front Classic and defeat Sacred, and he might just do it again!” Pete cries. But Sacred blocks it, grabbing Landon’s foot and holding him in place. The Australian then sweeps Landon’s right leg out from under him, planting him onto the mat. The fans rise from their seats as Sacred grabs Landon’s left then, followed by his right, entwining them together, locking on the UPRIGHT FIGURE FOUR! “DEPROGRAMMER!” Pete cries as Megan bangs on the ring apron, trying to stir Landon. “Both men have thrown everything they know at one another, everything that has worked for them in the past, but this just may seal Landon’s fate as he Sacred locks on the move that put Mak Francis out of commission for almost a year!” “This is just TOO sweet!” King gleefully shouts as Maddix cries out, the pain and agony he’s felt in his leg now coming out in a violent display as Sacred squeezes his legs tighter, creating more pressure on his knee. Blood still trickles from Sacred’s cut, but he just looks at Landon, crying out in agony. Suddenly, he sees the Spaniard plant his hands on the mat, trying to pull his torso up, hoping to counter with a forearm to the face. Sacred spots the steel chair only a foot away, and before Landon can make contact, Sacred drags the chair in and…. *CCRRRRAAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!!* … Smacks the cold steel across Landon’s head! The Champion goes down, and in a final whelp of pain… … *DING! DING! DING!* The exhausted young kid hits the mat as Sacred lets go of the hold, falling onto his back, utterly exhausted as well. He feels light headed and woozy from the blood seeping from his deep laceration, but as he hears “Tainted” begin to play, it all begins to sync in. ”He did it!” is King’s joyous proclamation as the fans begin to boo, refusing to believe what they see. “Sacred, after so much time in limbo, recovering from the death of his wife, has finally captured the World Title once again!” Funyon raises the microphone and announces the crowd’s worst fears… “Ladies and Gentleman, your winner… AND NEW! S – W – F - WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… SSSSAAAAAACCCCCRRRREEEEEDDDDDD!” “Unbelievable,” is all Pete can utter. “His work on the leg all came to fruition in the end as Landon had no choice but to tap out, with no escape, much like Mak Francis. Just an incredible display from both men here tonight, Sacred using his experience and every move in his play book to keep Landon down, while Maddix… well, what can you say. His short reign as Champion is over, but his quest for the title has simply begun once again.” Sacred climbs onto two feet, a little groggy, a tad banged up and bleeding profusely, but as Eddy Long hands him the World Title and raises his hand in victory, it all seems worth it. The fans hurl jeers towards the new Champion as both Alan Clark and Todd Cortez make their way down the ramp, sliding under the bottom rope to check on Landon while Megan kneels over him, frightened for Landon. The Australian looks at her with somber thoughts, that is, until he catches something out of the corner of his eye… There, standing on the main stage, is Revolution Zero. Toxxic stands at centre stage, flanked by Spike and Davis as they grin at Sacred. The Australian looks back at them, expressionless, as Cortez and Clark help Landon to his feet. Sacred look back at them, then at Rev0, and then the title in his hands… …He made the right choice. FADE OUT © 2004 SmartMarks Wrestling Federation 'Making the Panda happy since 2000' Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Crowe 0 Report post Posted January 15, 2005 (edited) Well, how about that? My first show posted. Unfortunately, we're missing three matches, but this is the fault of the markers... Mike's just too drunk and TNT just sucks. Anyway, I hear that (almost) all were contested matches and that's excellent, keep that up. The show coulda used more promos though... OH! AND CONGRATS TO THE MUZZ MAN! By the by, markups fixed in the main event and the card will be up momentarily. Edited January 15, 2005 by Crowe Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
