SWF Smarkdown, 1-24-05!

[Chuck Woolery 0]

3!

 

 

 

2!

 

 

 

1!

 

 

 

SMARKDOWN~!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

The usual rock stylings of the Smarkdown theme are strangely absent tonight, as we are LIVE in an electric Philadelphia, Pennsylvania! Instead, we're greeted by the buzzing of the crowd, a small "SWF" chant beginning, as Funyon stands in the centre of the ring.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...please welcome to the ring. Alan Clark! Todd Cortez! Megan Skye! And... the NEW SWF United States Junior Leauge Champion... Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix! MMMMMMAAAAARRRRRRTTIIIIIAAAAAAALLLL LLLLLLLAAAAAWWWWWWWW!!!!"

 

"YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

The crowd pop as the lights are suddenly switched off, leaving the arena shrouded momentarily in darkness.

 

*BOOM!*

 

*BOOM!*

 

*BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

 

Suddenly, the arena is illuminated by bright white pyro, whilst the sounds of gunfire reverberate over the P.A...before being replaced by the opening of "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward. Spotlights shine down on the entrance way as Alan Clark is first to emerge, followed out closely by a banged-up Hardcore Gamers Champion Todd Cortez, being flanked and supported by Megan Skye. A Megan Skye with a championship belt over each shoulder. And sure enough, rounding out the group, comes Landon Maddix. Also carrying two title belts.

 

"Where in the hell do they shop for jewellery?" chuckles the upbeat Pete.

 

"They don't, they just STEAL them Revolution Zero's locker room!" King snaps in response.

 

"Well, I won't go into the fact that Landon Maddix's victory over Sean Davis on Lockdown was a clean as a whistle submission victory. I will, instead, to point to our newer fans that those belts being held by Megan Skye are the SJL World and European Titles. The two belts unified with the US Title to comprise the USJL Championship and legally owned by Landon Maddix, due to the fact that he was the last man to officially hold both belts."

 

As they reach the ring, Martial Law begin to scale in single file up the steps, with Alan Clark first to enter the ring and first to take the microphone from Funyon. Meanwhile, Cortez, Megan and Maddix follow, all gold-laden. Once all four are in, the music cuts...

 

 

"MAD - DIX! MAD - DIX! MAD - DIX!"

 

...giving way to the chants, which Clark seems just the slightest bit peeved at.

 

"Wow, listen to these chants for Alan Maddix and his friend Todd Maddix." sneers King. "You can't tell me this kid isn't a spotlight hogger, Pete. And you can't tell me he doesn't enjoy being one either."

 

But nonetheless, Clark forces a smile as he points at his former bitter enemy.

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...the QUADRUPLE CROWN CHAMPION!"

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

With a smug smile, Maddix takes a couple of cheeky, theatrical bows...Megan and Cortez applauding away in the background as Clark passes Maddix the stick, allowing him room to speak. But, not before Megan places the JL belts over Maddix's already weighed down shoulders.

 

"My, my, my...I almost forgot how much these things weigh." Maddix chuckles in the general direction of Megan, who's now too busy chatting to Cortez to chuckle back. "Still, it's worth the inevitable hernia to be able to carry these belts around again. Only...now, I don't just have three. Now, I have the SJL European Championship. The SJL World Championship. The SWF USJL Championship. Oh, and of course, I'm STILL the SWF Intercontinental Television Champion too! Seventy eight days, and counting. Which is great. But I didn't come out here JUST to talk about me."

 

"Makes a change." King grumbles.

 

"See, we need to talk...Clusterfuck. You see, back in the latter days of last year when we declared Martial Law on the SWF, our goal was to take away all of the power that Revolution Zero possessed. And, now, about a month on, despite me not being the World Heavyweight Champion of this company any more, Martial Law is still in as good of a position as we were on New Year's Day. That Revolution locker room must be a pretty dull place nowadays. I mean, we took your Hardcore Gamers Title, when Todd Cortez survived that final fall at Slay Ride. We took back the USJL Title on Lockdown. I've hung onto this ICTV Title. And that leaves...just two more titles to go. Tonight, Alan Clark gets the chance at the first of the two. One on one, with Spike Jenkins. Cruiserweight Title, on the line. And believe me...I may not like this guy, but I know what he's capable of. And if he can beat Wildchild for the Cruiserweight Title, he can damn sure beat you- his cheap, imitation, wannabee BITCH!"

 

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"And that's a shoot, brudda!" cries Dogger.

 

"Oh shut up."

 

"Then, once we've got the Cruiserweight Title..." Maddix continues. "There's only one piece of the puzzle left. See, the Women's Title can wait for Megan. It's not like it's DOING anything. And as for the Tag Team Titles, Wild and Dangerous are none of our concerns right now. With the Cruiserweight Title in our possession, the only piece of gold for us to worry about will be the only Revolution Zero gold that'll remain. That being...the World Heavyweight Title."

 

Cortez and Clark nod in agreement, as Maddix adjusts his many belts.

 

"Which means, Martial Law going to the Clusterfuck on January 30th. Going in and working as a TEAM..."

 

Seemingly directing that last comment at Clark, Maddix gets a sigh and a sneering smile from his former enemy.

 

"...and getting that title shot at From The Fire! It doesn't matter if it's me, Cortez or Clark in the long-run. Although...it'll more than likely be me...BUT, it doesn't matter who it is. As long as Martial Law is representing at From The Fire. That's all that matters to me, to Todd Cortez and to Alan Clark. Martial. Law."

 

"I don't believe that for a moment." King disapproves, as Pete hisses at him to hush up.

 

"At the Clusterfuck, the marquee will say 'every person for themselves.' But the fact is, this year WILL be different. We know that Revolution Zero will be looking to work as a team. We know that Wild and Dangerous will do what they did two years ago and try to work together. The Royal Order will no doubt help each other out too. So it's in our best interests to do the same. To go in there, all for one and one for all. And...just as importantly, to make sure that the Clusterfuck isn't won by a Revolution Zero member."

 

The crowd applaud that, along with the rest of Martial Law.

 

"Toxxic, it's no secret, you're the marked man coming into the Clusterfuck. Dace wants you. Johnny wants you. Wildchild wants you. Clark and Cortez want you. And believe me, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on you either. So, when you're standing in the ring and you hear the buzzer go...and you look up to the stage, wait for the music...nervously wondering just who's coming out and just how much they want to get at your scrawny little ass. If you see one of us coming down to that ring, don't breath a sigh of relief that it's not Dace. Don't be thankful it isn't Johnny or Wildchild. And don't thank your lucky stars that someone who REALLY hates you hasn't decided to make a surprise appearance. Instead, you'd better be ready to fight, because you'll be firmly locked in all our crosshairs. You, and Jenkins...and Davis. Now, you're probably thinking...'Bah, why should I be scared of those three feckers'. Well, I'll tell you, 'sunshine'. We don't want at you because you're an obnoxious asshole, or because you've tried to break our necks in the past, or taken championships away from us. We're not out to destroy you. Our motive is to hit you where you'll really hurt. Your PRIDE! Sure, if Dace throws you out, it's not THAT embarrasing. At least he's intimidating. Strong. Powerful. Bitter. Angry. Us three? Nah, we're just three jumped up cruiserweights who are trying to take over you and your boys' spot, right?"

 

In the background, Clark laughs, as Maddix glares into the camera pointed directly at him.

 

"You keep thinking that Toxxic. And we'll see you Sunday."

 

With that, Maddix casually tosses the microphone back out of the ring and passes his JL belts back to Megan, before the foursome begin to leave the ring, "Save Yourself" playing through the arena once more.

 

 

"Well...Martial Law, goin' to the Clusterfuck with a plan it seems King."

 

"Oh yeah, Maddix has set out the gameplan and I'm sure Clark and Cortez are going to get sucked in just like he wants." sneers King.

 

"What?"

 

"I don't believe a WORD this kid says. Team player? Maddix overshadowed Todd Royal, he tried to overshadow Stevens and MacPhisto at Genesis and now, he's overshadowing his two new buddies. He's no team player. He's a spotlight stealer. And if you don't think Maddix will dump Cortez or Clark out of the Clusterfuck if the has chance, then you're dumber than you look."

 

"Well, I'm sure we'll see Landon Maddix the team player later on, when he teams with Todd Cortez, to face The Royal Order. But for now, we've gotta shill some merchandise, so we'll see you the other side of the break."

[Chuck Woolery 0]

"Damn it!" screams Manson as he rummages through the trunk of the rented Scion xA. "Where's the jack?"

 

"I don't know," Stryke shouts.

 

"God damn blizzard," Manson grumbles. "If we'd gotten out of Rhode Island one god damn day earlier this flat wouldn't have made us late... what time is it?"

 

"It's an hour past sign-in," Stryke says. "Give it up and call AAA."

 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon announces, "Stryke and Manson are unable to appear due to this week's extreme weather. We apologize profusely. In the mean time, please remember to purchase some orange drink for the long ride home."

 

~fin~

[Chuck Woolery 0]

We come back from the commercial break, only to be greeted by the drum solo that signals the start of ‘Painkiller’ by Death and the arrival of Dace Night!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Oh great, what’s this moron doing out here?” King asks. “His match isn’t until the end of the show, can’t we do without him until then?”

 

“Presumably the White Night wants to say something,” LDP speculates as Dace rolls into the ring and beckons for the microphone.

 

“You’re a genius, you know that?”

 

Dace receives the microphone from Funyon, then straightens up… and throws the metal horns to the crowd!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE!”

 

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Dace grins. “I’m out here for one reason, but it’s not a good one. I need to tell you all that you won’t be seeing me after Clusterfuck.”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“YES!” King exults. “There is a God in Heaven!”

 

“I said when I came back that I was only here on a Visa,” Dace explains, “and that comes to an end right after Clusterfuck. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back again, and I’m not sure if I will if I can. There’s things I’ve gotta do in England,” he continues, looking at the gold wedding ring on one finger. “But of all the thing I have and haven’t done while I’ve been here, there are two I regret not doing. One is winning the World Title…”

 

“LET’S GO DA-ACE! LET’S GO DA-ACE!”

 

“…and the other is finally beating the snot out of that little shit Toxxic.”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Everything I’ve done in my career has been for the fans, because I know they’re what makes this whole thing work,” Dace explains, gesturing out at the crowd. “Toxxic; he doesn’t give a shit about you. He doesn’t care about anyone, and I can’t stand that. He’s only been here a year, and he’s already gone so far from his roots that he thinks he’s bigger than everyone! When was the last time you saw him wrestle for free in front of 50 fans?”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“And he never looks back, never shows any respect to anyone else,” Dace continues. “The moment he’s beaten you, that’s it - as far as he’s concerned you don’t exist anymore, and he’s after the next person in his way. When was the last time you saw him go coast-to-coast, facing off against someone in every fed on the way to see who’s REALLY better?”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Toxxic is the kind of guy who would beat the crap out of his trainer in his last match, then hit him in the head with a chair and shit on him!” Dace shouts. “I can’t win the World Title at Clusterfuck, and there’s no point me entering the Clusterfuck itself since I won’t be around afterwards, but there’s one thing I can do, and that’s beat some respect into Toxxic!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“So Toxxic, if you’re listening,” Dace bellows, “if you’ve got any sort of honour to you then I want you to get out here and-”

 

“OK, OK, I’ve had about enough of this bollocks.”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The new voice isn’t Dace’s, as it belongs to the man who has just stepped out from the back. There’s no music and no grand entrance, but there’s no mistaking the spiky-haired figure walking down the ramp for anyone else except Toxxic, the Straight-Edge Sensation.

 

“Dace, you’re bleating away about ‘respect’ and ‘honour’,” Toxxic says as he approaches the ring, “which I find kind of ironic coming from a guy who jumped me when disguised as a security guard.”

 

“Uh-oh,” Pete murmurs, “somehow I don’t think Toxxic is taking kindly to Dace’s statements…”

 

“Do you want to know why I never show anyone any respect?” Toxxic continues as he steps through the ropes and comes face to face with the High Priest of Horrorcore. “Did that ever cross your mind? Or are you just gonna bawl me out?” The two men stand nose-to-forehead for a moment, then Dace steps back and extends his arm, indicating - with a rather sceptical expression - for Toxxic to go ahead and explain.

 

“Firstly, for the last year I have been in the business of taking on people who outgun me,” Toxxic begins, looking Dace straight in the eye. “I’m up against people who are stronger than me; too heavy to lift; much better mat wrestlers than me. It’s easy to show respect when you’re 6’4, one of the strongest bastards in this company and a great technical wrestler - it’s much harder when you’re 6 foot even and the main advantage you have is being a nippy little bugger, because then respect gets confused with intimidation… and if you show someone that you’re intimidated by them,” Toxxic continues, cracking a lopsided grin at his long-time nemesis, “then you give them confidence. You give them encouragement. And that is not something I want to give people who are bigger than me, stronger than me, and better wrestlers than me.”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation looks around at the crowd with an expression that says ‘I’ll get to you’, then returns his attention to the Brummie Goth in front of him.

 

“Secondly, and more importantly as far as you are concerned… where the bloody hell has been the respect for me in this sodding company?”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Dace Night goes to raise his microphone, but Toxxic cuts him off. “The first time we met, I’d just beaten your mate Aecas in a 200 Lighttube match for the HGC belt, then taken the ICTV Title from Insane Luchador! Not bad for someone in their first two months with the company, but did I get any respect from you? Did I jack! You called me a ‘little bitch’ and said you were going to crush me!” Toxxic’s grin widens at the memory as he points a black-nailed finger at Dace. “I beat you, and I beat you good; then I beat you again for the World Title in September! Am I getting any respect from you? NO!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“It’s not just you,” Toxxic continues, warming to his subject. “Kibagami? Threw me threw a glass door and tried to break my neck. I beat him. Flesher? Treated me like a jumped-up punk. I beat him. Annie called me a Johnny Rotten wannabe, and I beat the hell out of her! No-one in this entire damn federation has ever treated me like I deserve what I have fought for and bled for to earn, and you expect me to treat them with respect!?”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“And this lot are the worst of all!” Toxxic yells at Dace, gesturing around at the crowd. “We’re in Philadelphia, we’re in the Wachovia Center! Last time I was here I fought the Insane Luchador all over this entire bloody building to retain the Hardcore Title, and did I get any respect for that? NO! These people do not look at me and see a two-time World Champion, and they do not look at me and see the leader of the most influential stable since the Magnificent Seven - they look at me and see a skinny British straight-edger who needs putting in his place!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“That,” Toxxic says, calming himself and turning back to Dace, “is why I don’t give a shit about the fans. That is why I don’t care about you, or anyone else in this fed except the members of Revolution Zero. Respect is earned Dace, and no-one here has done anything to earn my respect.”

 

“So your ‘explanation’ is just you telling everyone I’m right?” Dace asks. “So what’re you gonna do now, just head off after the World Title again and leave everyone else in your dust? Beat Johnny tonight - if you can - or else enter the Clusterfuck, and just prove that you’ve no respect or honour at all?”

 

For a moment Toxxic just looks at Dace as if to say ‘give me a reason why not’… but then raises the mic again.

 

“You know Dace, ‘respect’ is a tricky one, but I have a feeling that yours and my definition of ‘honour’ might be a bit different. There are two principles I stick to, and you know them well. First,” he says, raising a black-nailed finger, “I will never, ever break the rules in a match, which is more than most of this company can say. Secondly… I never back down from a challenge.”

 

“I wonder what that means,” Longdogger Pete speculates as the two men in the ring just stare at each other.

 

“It would make sense for me to take the title shot at Clusterfuck, if I could,” Toxxic tells Dace. “If I don’t win tonight, it’d make sense for me to enter into the ‘Fuck itself. But you know what - it sounds like you have first claim. So tell me Dace… what did you have in mind?”

 

“Oh no,” King says, waving his hands to try and warn Toxxic off, “bad idea, BAD IDEA!”

 

“A Pure Wrestling Rules match,” Dace says, grinning at the man from Nottingham. “Let’s prove once and for all which one of us is better at actual wrestling. Only three ropes breaks allowed, no punching, 30-minute time limit.”

 

“Pure Wrestling Rules, eh?” Toxxic says, grinning in his turn. “Nothing like stacking the deck in your favour, Dace… but what the hell have I got to lose? You’re gone afterwards anyway, so it’s not like you’re gonna hang around and gloat!” The Straight-Edge Sensation sticks out his hand… but then as Dace goes to shake on it, he pulls it back again!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Wait, wait,” Toxxic tells the fans, “I just want to make one thing clear. Dace,” he continues, turning back to the Hardcore Brummie, “if you want this match to be about respect then we’ve got to come to an agreement. That means that from this moment on, we don’t interfere with each other before the match. You don’t jump me, security guard outfit or not, I don’t have Revolution Zero paste you in the car park.”

 

“Deal,” Dace nods, and sticks out his hand… but Toxxic still hesitates.

 

“One more thing,” the former World Champion says. “I know you too well. You want this match to have one last shot at getting a win over me, but if you can’t do it, or if you don’t do it… I’ve got a nasty feeling that something in that Ultraviolent brain of yours might snap. I don’t intend to be in hospital when I’m meant to be taking the title shot I’m going to win against Johnny tonight. So I want your word - your word of honour, if you will - that you’ll be wrestling to win the match, NOT to cripple me.”

 

“That depends whether you’re gonna have enough brains to tap when you should,” Dace grins, but he nods and extends his hand… and this time, Toxxic takes it.

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Folks, it looks like we have a massive match signed for Clusterfuck!” LDP yells as the Wachovia Center breaks out into cheers. “Dace Night vs. Toxxic for what might be the very last time, and it’s under Pure Wrestling Rules!”

 

In the middle of the ring Dace and Toxxic release each other’s hands, and as Toxxic rolls out of the ring and heads back up the ramp the grins can still be seen on both their faces. Each one knows that this is their last chance to prove themselves to the world… and each one is determined to take it.

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Chuck Woolery 0]

Tom Flesher sits at his desk, idly thumbing through the paperwork. He scribbles notes in the margins of various papers, possibly poring over the contractual paperwork for new – or returning – wrestlers for the upcoming Clusterf*ck pay-per-view. Suddenly, he hears a knock at the door.

 

“Who’s there?” Flesher shouts.

 

“EAST COAST!”

 

“F*CK YOU!” Flesher screams back, jumping from his chair with light in his eyes. The door swings open, and to an enormous pop from the hometown crowd watching on the SmarkTron, “The Franchise” Mak Francis steps through the door only to be met with a wide smile from his former tag team partner. “Mak, you magnificent bastard,” Flesher beams, “it’s good to see you again.”

 

“Man, Flesher, it’s been a long time,” says Francis, flicking his blue Oakleys up and grinning at Smarkdown’s top enlisted man. “Took you long enough to get me back in the ring.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Flesher says. “Listen, you know it’s my show now, right? And so you know I had to throw you up…”

 

“Yeah, like you were gonna give me anything but the main event,” Francis smirks. “Here in Philly? After the Eagles took…” Once again, the hometown crowd pops, this time drowning out the dialog over the speaker system. Francis, clearly gloating, finishes his thought, leaving Flesher to pick up where he left off.

 

“Okay, okay, so I still owe you a few bucks on that one,” Tom says genially. “Tell you what, it’ll come out of my next paycheck. But listen, about that main event… you know, Mak, I’ve always loved watching you… and… well, let me just put it this way.”

 

Flesher leans down to his desk and hits a button on the intercom, then says, “Yeah, send him in.” A few moments later, the fans pop again as the doorway fills up with the imposing figure of Dace Night!

 

“Dace,” says Flesher with a grin, greeting the monster with a hearty handshake. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Yer,” Dace murmurs, his face breaking into a small smile.

 

“Listen, fellas,” Tom says, “pull up some seats.” He sits down behind his desk, relaxing, as Mak and Dace both grab his office chairs and sit. “See, when they gave me the book, this is exactly what I saw happening. We’re the old guard, gentlemen. Dace Night… you’re a guy who can work on the mat, pound the piss out of someone, choke a bitch if you need to. Mak Francis… one of the premier wrestlers in the SWF today, a guy who can go to the air if you want to pop the crowd… it just doesn’t get much better than this, now does it?” Flesher leans back, crosses his arms and smirks.

 

“Dace, I know your visa’s running out soon enough, but you really didn’t think I was going to pass up an opportunity like this, did you? Gentlemen, I want you to go out there tonight and put on a clinic for me… and Mak, I’ll be sitting in the back with a case of Yuengling. Guys, make me proud.”

 

The camera pulls back, seeing the mutual respect and pleasure on Night and Francis’ face, with Flesher smirking in the background as the show fades to commercial.

[Chuck Woolery 0]

Sly/Munich forthcoming...

[Chuck Woolery 0]

We return to Smarkdown, home of Tom Flesher's ego and the greatest wrestling known to smarks, with no chance for a long commentary intro. At least, not with SWF Women's Champion Kelly Connelly standing in the ring, microphone in hand.

 

"Ladies and 'gentlemen'...and I use that loosely, judging from the way some of you dirty peasants are leering at my regal body, like I'm one of your greasy, disgusting 'cheesesteaks'."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Save your boos. For I present to you tonight, your SAVIOUR! Whilst the Flyers stay grounded and the Eagles continue to perform more like lame ducks, there is still one man that Philadelphia sports fans can be proud of, can look up to and can aspire to be like. And that man, tonight, teams with the "Big Demon From Japan" DOMINIC KORGATH! He is the one true Philadelphia Sports Legend! A man who's going to bring back WRESTLING to this sordid, 'hardcore' city. "THE ICON"! MAAAAAAAAAAXXX KIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNGGG!!!"

 

 

*BOOOOOOOM!*

 

"Superstar" by Saliva begins to blare through the P.A system, greeted of course by boos from the Philly crowd, as King and Korgath emerge through the curtains. The masked behemoth raises one fist above his head as beside him, King stops and scans his hometown crowd. Who are booing their hometown boy. But he could care less, as he strides on down the aisle, Korgath following him down.

 

"One true Philly Sports Legend huh?" muses Pete. "I wonder if Mak heard that."

 

"Who cares? Mak may be a Franchise. He might live large, have a big house, five cars and all that trash. But he's not The Icon!"

 

"You're saying you rank this egomaniac ahead of Mak Francis?"

 

"Hey, it's a King thing."

 

Reaching the ring, King bounds up the steps and flashes a smile at Kelly as she holds the ropes open for her man, whilst Korgath enters on the adjacent side of the ring. The three Royal Order members then congregate in the centre of the ring, with Kelly giving "The Icon" his pre-match rubdown. But their pornographic theatrics are cut off by the intro to "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward. The crowd pop, continuing to roar away until eventually the song picks up...which is when Landon Maddix bursts through the curtains. Behind him, Megan Skye and Todd Cortez follow, carrying five shiny belts between them. The three group together on the stage, the mere sight of Megan Skye bringing a scowl to Kelly's mug.

 

"I...CAN...NOT...SAAAVE...YOU!

 

"I! CAN'T! EVEN! SAAAVE...MYYY...SELF!"

 

"SO JUST SAAAVE YOURSELF!"

 

...

 

 

"SSSAAAAAAAAAAAAVVVVVEEE!!!"

 

Bursting away, Maddix strides down the aisle, leaving the gold-laden Skye and slightly limping Urban Legend to follow on behind.

 

"And, their opponents!" Funyon booms, having regained possession of the microphone. "Accompanied to the ring by MEGAN SKYE! At a total combined weight of four hundred and fourty six pounds... from Hollywood Boulevard, the SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion... "THE URBAN LEGEND" TODD COOORRRTTEEEZZZ! And, his tag team partner... from Huron, South Dakota... he is the USJL Triple Crown Champion AND the SWF Intercontinental Television Champion... LANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MAAADDIIIXXX! Together, they are... MAAAAARRRTTIIIIAAAALLL LLLLAAAAAAAWWWWW!!!!!"

 

Maddix hurries up the steps and stops to hold the ropes open for Megan, who enters and passes Maddix the two of his belts she had been carrying. Megan then holds open the ropes for Cortez, whilst Maddix stares across the ring at the Royal Order.

 

"The Royal Order, yet to gain a tag team victory in the SWF...whilst this is Todd Cortez and Landon Maddix's first outing as a team. So, this is an important match for both teams, considering the competition that has arisen in the division."

 

As the two trios continue to stare across the ring at each other, referee Jefferson Harding retrieves the technicos' championship belts, whilst the only rudo holding a belt is a girl, which must be a blow to Mr. King's manhood. With the five belts retrieved, Harding passes off the belts to the outside...

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

...and calls for the bell in the meantime. Quickly it becomes clear that this ain't Mexico and we aren't in for one of those wacky, lucha, six-man matches as the females leave the ring, King getting a kiss for good luck from Kelly.

 

"It'll be interesting to see who'll start here..."

 

After a (very) quick and one-sided discussion, Korgath steps out to the apron, leaving King to begin the match. And that's all the excuse Maddix needs to elect himself to start for Martial Law.

 

"And...Maddix and Max will start, perhaps to little surprise." points out Pete. "Lotta history here. Mostly caused by you, King."

 

"True."

 

"It's worth noting too, that Todd Cortez isn't starting this match. Which, considering the WAR he and Dace engaged in on Lockdown, is likely for the best, because Cortez cannot be 100% tonight."

 

The Philadelphia crowd certainly don't need any reminding of the history in the ring, buzzing in anticipation as the old rivals stride into the centre of the ring. Already, King is talking trash, but quickly eats a mouthful of forearm! A second! And a third, rocking King back towards the ropes, where Maddix grabs him and whips him across the ring. Back shoots King, swinging and missing with a clothesline. Back rushes King again, this time running straight into a boot to the gut that doubles him over, allowing Maddix to hit the ropes himself. But "The Icon" recovers quickly and manages to catch Maddix coming back, locking him in a sleeper...but before he can drop, Landon slides behind King, looking for a back suplex. Lifting a fresh 250 pounder proves difficult though. Too difficult. So Landon instead drops to the side, schoolboying over King...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEE!

 

 

 

T...

 

King gets an easy kickout though. Rolling to his feet, King recklessly charges at Maddix again, recieving another forearm for his troubles! Dazed, King staggers back, as Maddix follows him in with a couple more forearms, backing King into the corner...

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOO!"

 

...which is perfect chopping position.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOO!"

 

King takes a second chop but doesn't want more, so drills Maddix with a knee in the solar plexus (~!) and flips him into the corner...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

 

...hitting a chop, which doesn't get quite the same reaction from the Philly crowd.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and neither does the second. Slightly pertubed, King takes a moment to yell some abuse at the crowd before attempting an irish whip on Maddix. The Quadruple Crowner manages to counter that though, twisting in front of King and going low with a kick to the knee. King drops, as Maddix quickly clamps on a front facelock.

 

"I don't get these people." King bemoans. "How can they boo their own hometown Icon like that?"

 

"Well, it's not like he's ever done anything to endear himself to these fans."

 

"He's FROM Philadelphia. Usually, you only have to mention the town you're in and roofs blow off arenas."

 

Muscling Maddix up onto his shoulder, King begins to walk towards the opposite corner of the ring, Landon clinging onto the facelock determinedly. King continues walking, Maddix smashing knees up into his chest until finally he comes to a halt. That allows Maddix to reach back with one hand, tagging the nearby Todd Cortez into the ring. A hefty pop from the crowd brings a smile to Cortez's face, as he enters and PUNTS King in the stomach! Groaning, King drops to his knees as Cortez takes over the front facelock, considerably more adeptly than Maddix.

 

"COR - TEZ! COR - TEZ! COR - TEZ!"

 

Suddenly, up go the chants through the Wachovia Center...lead of course by Megan Skye, playing cheerleader on the floor. Cortez clamps on the facelock again, as King again tries to muscle his opponent off, succeeding in driving Cortez into a neutral corner. Following up, King drives in a couple of shoulders to the gut of The Urban Legend, before backing off and posing for the crowd. A mistake, as Cortez quickly dives out of the corner and plucks King into a side headlock! Another loud cheer goes up, but King doesn't stay trapped for long, firing in forearms to the side before barging Cortez into the ropes. As Cortez rebounds, King confidently ducks his head, but does so too early, which allows Cortez to leap up and legdrop King across the back of the head, almost axe-kick style! King crashes face-first to the mat, instantly getting grabbed back into the side headlock, much to Kelly's disgruntlement.

 

"Cortez, shifts the momentum again!" cheers Pete. "And back to that side headlock which is a hold that's been bastardised by many over the years, but in the right hands is more effective than it seems."

 

As Max would attest to. Cortez plants his feet on the mat and wrenches back from a seated position, King growling in pain. After another couple of wrenches, King finally manages to roll onto his rump, trying to get away. But a crossface forearm stops him in his tracks, before Cortez changes up to rear chinlock. Seemingly, Korgath doesn't approve of the crossface, stepping into the ring to argue with referee Harding...

 

 

...which allows Maddix to come into the ring

 

 

 

 

 

...AND SWITCH PLACES WITH CORTEZ!!!

 

"YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

 

"What the FU..."

 

"SHENANIGANS~!" cries Pete, cutting off King's f-bomb.

 

The crowd go wild as Cortez innocently steps out onto the apron, Kelly going spare on the floor. Finally Harding gets rid of Korgath, turning around...and, he's obviously surprised to see Landon Maddix with a chinlock applied. But the crowd say that Maddix made the tag, so Harding believes them and lets it go. Maddix, smiling like a cheeky schoolboy, flashes a wink at Kelly as he wrenches on the chinlock.

 

"MAD - DIX! MAD - DIX! MAD - DIX!"

 

Still, Kelly is furious and eventually, her fuse has burned out and she hops onto the apron to give Harding a verbal tongue lashing. And while Korgath gets involved too, Maddix glances over...

 

 

 

...AND WAVES CORTEZ IN FOR ANOTHER SWITCH!

 

"YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

 

"This is RIDICULOUS!" King howls.

 

"Hey, turn about's fair play King."

 

"WHAT!?! Korgath and King have done nothing illegal in the SLIGHTEST!"

 

"Yeah, only because they haven't had the chance. We all know how low Max King's moral standards lie. And we also know Martial Law have that mentality, to use whatever means neccessary to win. Especially against men like Max King."

 

As Kelly finally climbs off the apron and continues to go nuts on the floor, Harding turns around...and although he has a sneaky suspicion of what's going on, he can't prove it. Meanwhile, King tries to turn out of the chinlock. And does so, only to turn into a front facelock. Cortez glances up at Maddix again, getting a shake of the head from the Quadruple Crowner, who's being watched like a hawk by referee Harding. So Cortez clings onto the facelock. However, King is able to push up onto his knees...then one knee...before getting to his feet, Cortez keeping him doubled over as best possible, whilst King begins to barge forwards. Korgath has the tag rope stretched to his limit as he reaches over, looking to tag. But suddenly, Maddix enters the ring. Harding goes after him as Maddix quickly exits, seeing Korgath entering on the other side. And as Harding predictably goes after Korgath, Maddix RE-enters the ring...

 

 

"STOP!"

 

 

*CHING~!*

 

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

 

...AND BOOTS KING BETWEEN THE LEGS!

 

 

"...CONTINUE!"

 

The crowd pop, while Maddix hurriedly scrambles back to his corner and grabs the tag rope, trying to look as innocent as possible. Meanwhile, Cortez tries to stiffle a laugh, as King is back down to his knees and still clamped in the front facelock.

 

"A little tip of the hat to Mike Van Siclen, Todd Cortez's former partner." Pete chuckles.

 

"Tom has got to be going NUTS backstage." King snaps, totally ignoring his announce partner. "These jumped up nobodies are making a mockery of Tom's pure wrestling show!"

 

Pulling King up, Cortez now releases the front facelock and looks to pick up the tempo, irish whipping King across the ring and nailing him with a back elbow, knocking King to the canvas. Quickly, as Max hits the canvas, Cortez rushes the ropes and lands a running legdrop across King's face. Cortez pops back up and places himself between King and Korgath, smart tag team strategy by the tag team expert, waiting for King to get up. As he does, Cortez lands a boot before hooking King's arm over his shoulder, looking to throw him to the mat judo style. King kicks his legs as he's lifted though, making himself harder to throw...before landing on the mat, quickly grabbing Cortez between the legs and lifting him for a sternum buster. Cortez manages to turn as he's lifted though, hooking King and flipping him over with a side headlock takedown! King ends up flat on his back in the headlock, lost for a moment as his shoulders land on the mat...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

TWW...

 

 

King shoots a shoulder quickly, still caught in the headlock. But King manages to hook Cortez's leg, tilting backwards and stacking HIM on his shoulders...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

TWW...

 

Cortez kicks back into a position of control, leaving the frustrated King trapped once more. But King has a plan, motioning for Korgath to come in, which the bigman does. He then goes to leave as Maddix comes in, only for Maddix to leave, which causes Korgath to come back in...and unsurprisngly, confusion ensues, until finally Harding is caught trying to keep Korgath on the apron, allowing Maddix to come in...

 

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

 

...clapping his hands together behind Harding's head, before making a switch with Cortez and turning King over into a front facelock.

 

"Oh for crying out loud..."

 

Cortez quickly exits the ring and as Harding turns around, this time he has no suspicions or qualms, having 'heard' the 'tag'. Even the laughter that fills the air from the fans doesn't give him any doubts, as Maddix has King on his knees and locked. But King again starts to fight up, so Maddix brings up a knee across King's chest before irish whipping him across the ropes. Back comes King, Landon springing off his feet...

 

 

...and missing a Dropsault! King had been able to hang onto the ropes at the last second, saving himself from eating a faceful of feet. Now, King is able to shake off the numerous wear-down holds he's been in and charge at Maddix. Maddix ducks a clothesline as he gets back up though, King stopping on the spot...and getting grabbed in another side headlock. But King instantly pushes him off, Maddix hitting the ropes...

 

 

 

 

...AND GETTING TRIPPED BY KELLY!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Maddix stumbles forward but doesn't go down, until that is King ploughs through Maddix with that clothesline he's been trying for. The Quadruple Crowner collapses like a bag of castrated cows, as King reaches out, finally making the tag to Korgath!

 

"Now THAT was turn about being fair play." enthuses King. "And now, here comes the monsterous Korgath!"

 

As Landon scrambles up to his feet, the 350 pounder is standing over him, waiting...to CLUB him between the shoulder blades with a forearm. Down goes Maddix again, coming back up moments later, to recieve more of the same. Korgath waits for Maddix to get up again, before shooting him to the ropes and clubbing him down with a simple clothesline on his way back. Maddix's speed works against him as he smashes into the arm at full speed, almost getting flipped over onto his front on impact. Korgath drops down, making a cover...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWOOOO...

 

Kickout.

 

"Thankfully, it seems like all Martial Law's cheating was for nought." smiles King. "Max escaped and now, Korgath is doing the damage, whilst Max gets a breather."

 

Pulling Landon off of the canvas, Korgath eases him into the corner and drives a knee into the gut...followed up with a second. With his opponent weakened, Korgath whips him across to the opposite corner, following in and meeting Maddix after he hits the buckles, avalanching all of his 350 pounds into La Cucaracha!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

 

The squashed Maddix slumps down against the bottom turnbuckle gasping for breath, while Korgath backs up. Applause from Kelly and King doesn't seem to change the body language of Korgath, as Maddix uses the ropes to pull himself up. Landon then staggers out of the corner, unable to do anything more than walk Korgath's boot, before getting pulled into a standing headscissors. A nervous Todd Cortez encourages Landon on, but can't do anything to prevent him being hoisted up and powerbombed to the mat, with AUTHORITY! Maddix bounces off the canvas, but while this would be a good chance for Korgath to attempt a pin, King wants to be tagged back in. And Korgath obliges.

 

"And now that Landon Maddix is down, King wants back in." sighs Pete.

 

"Yeah, because when Maddix is down, he can't CHEAT!"

 

"You think?"

 

Stepping into the ring, the suddenly uber-cocky King struts over to Maddix, ready to avenge the earlier cheating. Up Maddix gets hauled, pushed into the corner, before King offloads with a flurry of right hands, each connecting flush on the jaw. With his opponent dazed, The Superior Talent can afford time to flip off someone in the front row, before snapmaring Maddix out of the corner...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

...and kicks him in the spine!

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

...again!

 

"ONE MORE?"

 

King asks for the crowd's approval and unsurprisingly gets hefty abuse, but all the same he backs up. But rather than kick Maddix closer to spinal fusion surgery, he instead tumbles over Maddix and snaps his neck forward with his Flipping Neck Roll, landing on his knees and posing for the crowd.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Max King with smart strategy, going after the neck. The same neck that Sean Davis did considerable damage to on Lockdown." Pete points out.

 

As Maddix lays on the mat clutching his neck in agony, King finally breaks away from his pose on encouragement from Kelly and makes the cover...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWWOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

"The Icon" questions the count for a moment, but as Maddix tries to get back to his feet, King quickly gets back to business and traps Maddix in a rear chinlock, placing a knee directly into Maddix's neck. The double champion's head is being wrenched back as far as possible. Megan and Cortez both look worried and Megan starts to try and get the crowd going, a tactic King doesn't much appreciate.

 

"This crowd is rallying behind La Cucaracha here, but it may not do him much good." Pete concedes.

 

Standing up, King drives his knee into the back of Maddix's neck once...twice...make it three times, before walking over and tagging Korgath back in. In the meantime, Maddix tries to crawl to his corner. King stops him though, hauling Maddix up and lifting him for a back suplex, Korgath hooking Maddix for a neckbreaker...and the Royal Order fall in unison, driving Maddix down with the combination. King quickly rolls out of the ring, allowing Korgath to make a cover...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDERUP!

 

The masked monster is undettered and lifts Maddix to his knees, clubbing him across the back of the head a couple of times, while Cortez continues to will Maddix on. But as he does, Korgath grabs Maddix by his goozle and spikes him with a chokeslam, with total ease, dropping immediately down into another cover...

 

 

ONEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

CORTEZSAVES!

 

"YYYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

Korgath glares through the eyeholes in his mask at Cortez, who goes back to the apron and grabs the tagrope defiantly. Meanwhile, King yells at his partner to keep the pressure on. So he simply stands up and drops his 350 pounds across the back of Maddix's head, in the form of a legdrop!

 

"Man!" groans Pete. "Korgath playing the windshield to Landon's bug with that legdrop."

 

With Maddix seemingly out of it, King extends his hand and demands the tag...Korgath tagging him in. King quickly leaps into the ring and measures Maddix, stomping him in the back of the head. And again. Backing off, King bounces off the ropes and gets a run-up on a third stomp. As he strides away after hitting the kick, King makes sure to give Cortez a piece of his mind before going back over to Maddix and picking him slowly up. Maddix isn't quite as hurt as he makes out though, escaping behind King. Lumbering around, King lunges at Maddix, who desperatly escapes King's clutches...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOO!"

 

...and chops him as he turns back around!

 

"YYYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

King clutches his chest as Maddix drops to his knees, crawling towards Cortez...but not getting too far, before King grabs a handful of Landon's waistband, keeping him at arm's length from Todd Cortez. Up to his feet comes Landon, firing a back elbow at King that catches him square in the nose!

 

And a second!

 

 

But King ducks a third and pops Maddix with a textbook back suplex, folding La Cucaracha up on his neck and then folding him onto his shoulders for a cover...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDERUPFROMMADDIX!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

Cursing his luck, King holds up three fingers to Harding, recieving only two in response...so giving Harding one back. And you can guess which one.

 

"Max King's win-loss record against Landon Maddix is less than flattering and Dominic Korgath is 0-4 against Landon...this could be their best possible chance of a big victory over La Cucaracha."

 

"King has beaten Maddix in a big match before." King fires back.

 

"Once."

 

King drags Maddix up in a front facelock, bringing a crushing forearm flurry down on his ribs. Releasing the Quadruple Crowner, King then irish-whips Maddix into the ropes. However, Maddix is able to slide through King's legs on the rebound, leaving The Icon to reach in vain through his legs, whilst Landon scrambles up, hooks King under the chin and DRIVES him head-first to the canvas, hooking his legs as they fly up...

 

 

 

ONEEEEEEEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

"The So-Dak Moments, almost shocking King!" gasps Pete.

 

"Not a chance."

 

Both men scramble up to their feet with King winning the race, driving his knee deep into Maddix's breadbasket to stop him in his tracks, grabbing an arm and whipping him towards the RO corner...

 

 

 

 

...WHERE MADDIX CLOCKS KORGATH WITH A LEAPING FOREARM STRIKE!!!

 

"YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

Korgath slumps to the side, remaining on the apron, as King sees what's happening and charges at Landon with reckless abandon. Too much so, allowing Maddix to clip his shin with a dropkick as he charges, that causes King to sprawl facefirst into the top turnbuckle! King slumps against the buckles, dazed, as Maddix looks around, deciding against the tag and dropkicking King in the back. The dropkick jolts King's body against the buckles and he drops to a seated position...

 

 

 

...allowing Maddix time to casually tag Cortez in!

 

"YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"Lukewarm Tag~!"

 

Having spent the last few minutes pumping himself up, Cortez dives into the ring ready to become a HOUSE THAT HAS BEEN SET A-BLAZE~! Only, there's no-one to offload on, Korgath still on the apron and King still pulling himself up on the ropes. Eventually, King gets up and turns, at which point Cortez moves in. Kick to the thigh. Kick to the side. Kick across the calf, quivering King, leaving him open...

 

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

...CLOCKING Max with an Enziguri!! Down goes King, flopping face-first to the canvas, whilst Cortez crashes into Korgath with a basement dropkick, causing Korgath to crash off the apron, to the floor.

 

"And now, Todd Cortez is running through the Order!"

 

A clearly dis-orientated Icon recovers enough to get to his feet, unable to stop a dropkick sending him careering back into the turnbuckles. Cortez follows in, brushing over King's forehead with a palm strike, before whipping him across the ring to the opposite turnbuckles. King crashes into the buckles, as Cortez rushes across the ring, handspringing...

 

 

 

 

...AND GETTING WIPED OUT BY KORGATH'S CLOTHESLINE!!!

 

"Where the hell did Korgath come from?" gasps King.

 

"I don't know, but he just CLUBBED Cortez and extinguished that FYAAAH~!"

 

As Cortez lays flattened, Maddix suddenly springs into view, catching Korgath with a quick flurry of forearms, three... four... five... six forearms. All no-sold by the monster who simply pushes Maddix off, waiting for him to roll through before PLOUGHING through La Cucaracha with an avalanche style charge! Both Martial Law members are face-down and hurting, as Korgath lets out a deafening warcry, much to Kelly's approval.

 

"Korgath. Big man. Korgath SMASH!" chuckles King.

 

First to his feet, Todd Cortez. Grabbed by the goozle and Chokeslammed to the land of hell, fire and brimstone! Maddix is up close behind him with a hand clutched to his neck, staggering aimlessly. He too gets goozled and he too gets chokeslammed with ferocity! But Korgath knows he's not the legal man and now sets about helping The Icon to regain his senses. While he does, Maddix and Cortez are struggling to his feet, both suffering more than they usually would, had this event not come on the heels of a testing Lockdown.

 

"MAD - DIX!"

"COR - TEZ!"

 

"MAD - DIX!"

"COR - TEZ!"

 

"MAD - DIX!"

"COR - TEZ!"

 

The Martial Law fans are dueling chants between themselves as King and Korgath are standing, waiting, able to taste victory. Eventually, Maddix is up but doubled over holding his neck...Cortez up but dazed. Quickly, Korgath pulls Landon into a standing headscissors. But, King says no and assumes control, wanting to finish off Maddix himself, pulling him into his own standing headscissors. So Korgath goes after Cortez. Cortez grabs him though, managing to lever Korgath's 350 pounds through the ropes and to the floor.

 

Meanwhile, King tries to lift up Maddix for a piledriver, but Maddix fights it, long enough for Cortez to clock King with a palm strike. King's dazed, as Cortez assesses the situation...before springing off of MADDIX, and nailing KING in the back of the head with an Enziguri!

 

"YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Step-Up Enziguri!" cries Pete. "Only, Cortez uses his partner to step up!"

 

King tumbles over the top of Maddix and lands awkwardly on his shoulder, which leaves him down and hurt whilst Maddix regains his senses. A quick discussion between the Martials leaves Maddix to motion Cortez aside, before rushing across the ring...

 

 

 

...leaping up top...

 

 

 

 

 

...and going into orbit, with a Spaceman's Plancha...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...BUT HE GETS CAUGHT!!

 

"Houston, we have a problem!"

 

Korgath holds Maddix in his arms and contemplates his next move. Which turns out to be charging and smashing Maddix spine first into the ringpost, before dropping him casually to the side, leaving Maddix to writh in pain as Dominic begins to re-enter the ring.

 

In the meantime, Cortez has King set in a headscissors, calling perhaps for his flip-tastic finisher that put away Dace Night on Lockdown. But as he goes for it, King proves too smart and is able to block, holding Cortez over his head whilst Korgath enters. Korgath quickly comes over and hooks his arms around Cortez as King releases him, leaving Cortez hanging upside down in Korgath's arms. The big monster then sets about HEAVING Cortez up...

 

 

 

...but Cortez blocks the powerbomb with right hands, before rana-ing Korgath past a dumb-struck King, sending Korgath stumbling out of the ring. And while King is dis-orientated, Max steps behind Cortez and locks him in a waistlock. Cortez quickly goes behind King though, pushing him off into the ropes. King charges back and flies forward, only for The Urban Legend to duck the forearm attempt, sending King sprawling across the ring. As Max gets up, he's lost momentarily, allowing Todd to drop-toe-hold down The Icon, leap onto his shoulders and pin him down! Kelly knows what's coming and starts to scream at Korgath to get his ass up.

 

"Cortez is going for Street Dreams!" Pete erupts. "And if he gets this locked in, this one may be over!"

 

King struggles, tries to fight. But Cortez starts to tenderise his temples with right hands, until King is dazed enough for Cortez to reach back, grab the leg...and APPLY Street Dreams!

 

 

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"The Philly crowd erupts as Cortez has the screaming King wrapped up and from here, there can be no escape!" Pete again cries.

 

"Don't give up hope yet. He's a KING!"

 

 

"TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP"

 

The word rings through King's ears repeatedly. Tap. Tap. But as much as King wants to, he hangs on defiantly, still hoping that Korgath will come through for him. King can't crawl as all of Cortez's 226 pounds is centered on his shoulders. Leaving Korgath as his only hope.

 

 

A hope that's diminishing, as Korgath is being battered with forearms and punches by Maddix as he tries to enter the ring, Kelly now being kept back by Megan Skye's presence too.

 

 

King is alone.

 

 

 

Nowhere to go.

 

 

 

 

*TAP TAP TAP!*

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Releasing the hold, Cortez slumps to the side and clenches his fists in elation, as Maddix slides past Korgath to celebrate with him, Megan doing the same.

 

 

"Your winners of this match... LANDON MADDIX and TODD CORTEZ! MAAARTIAL... LAAAWWW!!!"

 

"And the new partners come out the victors!" Pete calls over the rampant crowd. "A great victory, which must leave the Royal Order in dis-order ahead of the Clusterfuck."

 

"Bah." King snaps. "They cheated more than any team I've ever seen in this company. And besides that, you should be awarding this match to Todd Cortez and Cortez ONLY! Maddix didn't do anything worthwhile in the match. Cortez won this one."

 

"You cannot be serious."

 

"Oh, but I am 'McEnroe'. Maddix cheated a bit, hit the ringpost and let Cortez do the work. But of course, he takes the credit, as usual."

 

"Well... um... those asinine comments aside, we've had some fun here. But there'll be no fun next up. Mainly because it's Rev Zero versus Martial Law, NEXT! Cruiserweight Title on the line. Alan Clark, Spike Jenkins...we'll be right back."

 

Martial Law continue celebrating, King being helped to the back by a furious Kelly Connelly with Korgath following solemnly behind, as we go to commercials.

[Chuck Woolery 0]

We return to Lockdown ahead of the main event, with the Rhode Island crowd in typically rampant mood as the camera pans through the cheap-seats. Various signs around the arena are picked out, mostly the pro-Maddix variety, before the camera focuses on a set of eleven fans with large gold letters, spelling out "LA CUCARACHA". Although, beneath them, there is one fan wearing a Revolution Zero shirt holding up his "SUCKS" sign, almost perfectly placed.

 

”Introducing first…” Funyon pipes up, just before the opening notes of "Pardon Me" from Incubus begin to play and Alan Clark's face appears on the SmarkTron - his expression focused, and his smirk always present. As the first lines hit, Alan mouths along...

 

Pardon me while I burst...

 

BOOOOOM!!

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

“Alan Clark is on the scene!” shouts Pete, as pyro explodes all around the entranceway! It leaves the a cloud of smoke on the stage, which partially conceals Alan as he struts from backstage and finally emerges from the thick cloud at the top of the ramp to a huge pop!

 

“From Long Beach, California, weighing two hundred and twenty-five pounds, he is…AAAAAAALAAAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!”

 

Alan slides into the ring and immediately heads to the turnbuckles. He climbs them and pumps his fist to the crowd, getting another pop from the crowd.

 

“…and Alan Clark certainly looks confident coming into this match,” notes Pete, “and he’s definitely going to need a lot of it to get by the two, very tough competitors that he has to face here tonight.”

 

Finally, the lights come back up to full power and Alan hops down from the post and heads to a far corner. He hunkers down and focuses on the stage as the sound of a needle scratching over vinyl comes over the speakers, and then…

 

BAM!

 

The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send an electrifying jolt through the crowd! The drumming picks up, bringing the song into full swing, and the high pitched scream of Randy Blythe rings out!

 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

 

Finally, the Revolution Zero member makes his way out from backstage with Jet at his side, entering to a massive, hate-filled jeer from the fans, which are, obviously, none of theirs.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

“From Hollywood, California, weighing two hundred and twenty-five pounds, he is the LONGEST REIGNING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!! ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIIIIIIIIIKE JEEENKIIIIIIIIIIIINS!!!!!”

 

Spike marks the announcement of his name by crossing his arms into an “X” to symbolize his improved straight edge life style then begins his march towards the ring, rubbing the gold of his Cruiserweight title belt as he does.

 

“I find it rather odd that Spike wouldn’t put his title on the line in this match,” says Pete. “He could really make a statement by successfully defending against two former Cruiserweight Champions.”

 

“Maybe he would have put it on the line if Johnny and Alan actually earned a shot at the belt,” King spitefully replies. “Besides, Spike made a huge statement by defeating Dace Night on Lockdown in a physically draining, and mentally demanding match. I don’t think it’d be fair to ask him to defend against two people at this point in time – give him till Smarkdown to be fully recharged at least.”

 

Spike heads into the ring while Jet makes her way to a place at ringside, checking to make sure that place is within arms reach of a steel-plated chair. ‘Hollywood’ slowly unfastens the title from his waist, noticing that Clark hasn’t taken his eyes off the belt. He simply looks at his opponent, shaking his head no with a grin so damn cocky that it nearly makes Alan’s blood boil!

 

“Tempers are flaring already!” shouts Pete.

Herrington hands the titles off to a ringside assistant then calls all three men to the center of the ring, and makes a final run down of the rules, just to make sure everyone is on the same page. Finally, he turns towards the timekeeper, and to a loud pop, signal for the bell.

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Spike and Kaine walk out of their corner and circle the ring. They eye each other careful as they enter the center of the ring with a lock up. Both strive for control, but Kaine takes control early with an arm drag takeover. Spike hits the mat and immediately slides back into the corner.

 

“The Untouchable with a nice arm drag takedown on the Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

Kaine waits in the middle of the ring, poking fun at his opponent. Spike climbs to his feet and they circle each other again. They go to meet in the middle of the ring again, but Spike drops down for a single leg takedown… that is countered into a front face lock by Kaine. Kaine breaks the hold, spins over the back of Spike and locks his arms in a rear waist lock. Kaine turns over onto his back, lifting Spike off his kneeled position into the air and back down onto the mat. Kaine breaks the waist lock and spins over Spike’s back again, this time locking his hands around the neck with a front headlock. Spike fights to his feet, dragging Kaine with him. Kaine breaks the front face lock, grabs Spike’s wrist and spins around into an arm wringer. Spike grabs his shoulder, but Kaine just continues pulling and twisting. Spike drops to one knee in a moment of pain, but comes back to his feet. Spike turns his body away from Kaine and drives his back into the chest of the challenger. With Kaine pushed out of the way, Spike breaks the arm wringer and locking in his own standing arm bar. Kaine tries to counter, but Spike is too fast for him. He wraps his free arm around the neck of Kaine, breaks the arm bar and locks his other arm into a cravat. Spike wrenches the neck, but lets go of the hold soon thereafter into an arm wringer. Spike spins underneath the arm of Kaine, drops down to his knees and takes Kaine over with a fireman’s carry. Spike keeps the lock on Kaine’s arm still with an arm bar.

 

“Both men working the mat. These two men faced off at Tuesday Night Slay Ride for the SWF Cruiserweight title. In that encounter, Spike defeated Kaine with a Ratings Crash! Will the same happen tonight?”

 

Spike pulls on the arm causing Kaine to yelp in pain. He tries to shake his arm loose, but its no use. Kaine leans his body back…and KIPS UP! Spike stands in shock as the crowd cheers in amazement. Kaine counters out of the arm bar into an arm wringer and takes the stunned champion down with a fireman’s carry. Kaine locks Spikes’ arm the same way Spike had it with an arm bar.

 

“Kaine pulling out a few tricks and keeping the slower Jenkins down with some fast movements.”

 

“We have gone over this before. Kaine is a younger version of Spike Jenkins. He can be a break out star if he keeps his head on his shoulders and gains a little more experience.”

 

“I hate to say it, but I agree.”

 

Spike fights to his feet, clutching the shoulder as Kaine bends it. Spike drops down to the mat, flinging the German Cruiserweight over to the mat with an arm drag takedown. Kaine sits up, but Spike is right behind him. He locks his legs around the right arm of Kaine and hooks his own arm underneath the left arm of Kaine. Spike pulls Kaine backwards on top of his shoulders with a crucifix.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO---KICKOUT!

 

“Barely a two count on that crucifix attempt. A nice try, but not enough to keep the youngster down.”

 

Spike and Kaine both jump to their feet at the same time, but Spike is able to crack the mouth of Kaine with a ROLLING LARIAT~! Kaine hits the mat hard, but instinctively gets right back to his feet. Still a little woozy, he just barely catches the air born Jenkins, who wraps his legs around the challenger’s head and snaps him back with a hurricanrana! Spike gets back to a standing position, stomping his foot into the mat and waiting for his opponent to get up. Kaine woozily climbs to his feet, as Spike sets off into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes charging back with another lariat!!!…But Kaine ducks underneath it. Spike turns around, only to be caught with a side headlock takedown! Kaine wrenches on the neck with the basic, but effective, move.

 

“Kaine stops Spike’s vast flurry of offense with a side headlock takedown!”

 

Spike tries to wrap his legs around the head of Kaine, but it’s a no go. Spike wraps his arms around the waist of Kaine and pulls him backwards onto the mat with another crucifix!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW—KICK OUT!

 

“Kaine kicks out at two!”

 

Clark tries to get to his feet, but Spike gets up first, double under hooking Kaine’s arms as they rise to their feet. Clark breaks out of it, grabbing Spike’s arm and spinning underneath it with an arm wringer. Clark wields back and smacks Spike across the chest with a chop…and a second! Clark Irish whips Spike across the ring into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes charging back towards the awaiting Clark …who cracks Spike with a lariat! Spike hits the mat, but comes back up to his feet to meet a dropkick! Spike gets back up to his feet and walks into a flying wheel kick!!! Clark climbs to one knee, posing for the crowd as Spike holds his face. Clark hooks the leg for the cover!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR---KICK OUT!

 

The crowd jeers as Clark climbs up to his feet, complaining about a slow count. Spike slowly gets up behind him. Clark turns his attention back around towards the challenger…

 

 

 

…Who hits him with a boot to the gut. Spike pulls Clark into a standing head scissors. Spike pulls him up to a piledriver position, placing his legs over the flailing arms of the challenger…

 

 

 

 

…AND DROPS DOWN, DRIVING CLARK FACE FIRST INTO THE MAT WITH A RATINGS CRASH!!!

 

 

“Ratings Crash! Spike hit the Ratings Crash! It has to be over!”

 

 

The crowd boos as Spike rolls over into a sitting position, holding Clark down in a sunset flip position.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

“Spike Jenkins comes out the victor on Smarkdown!”

 

“Fans, we will be right back after this commercial break.”

 

 

 

[FIN]

[Chuck Woolery 0]

“It’s coming close to that time of night, but we’ve still got a couple more matches before we close down bid’ness tonight,” Longdogger Pete greets the fans as Smarkdown returns from commercial break. “This one may not be the technical masterpiece we should be seeing later when Mak Francis takes on Dace Night-”

 

“-let’s hope they injure each other-” King grumbles.

 

“-but we do have the Number One Contendership to any title on the line!” Pete finishes, glaring sideways at his commentary partner’s interruption. “Two former World Champions in the ring together, and folks, only one man can leave as the winner!”

 

“Yeah; Toxxic.” King states firmly as the opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire crashes out over the Wachovia Centre and the Philly fans rise to their feet in unanimous disdain. The Smarktron whites out but quickly fades to black, and as it does so a familiar slogan flashes up in spiky white lettering:

 

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’

 

The black screen resolves into the top of Toxxic’s head which raises to grin lopsidedly out at the crowd as the clips start to flash up, all the while alternating with the words ‘STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION’ and ‘REVOLUTION ZERO’. And after Insane Luchador has been beaten around this very same Wachovia Centre, Aecas has been Glass Jawbreakered and Nathaniel Kibagami has been dropped on his head the shot changes once more as red pyro blasts start to climb the entrance ramp; Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the final, stagewide blast of pyro-

 

*BAM-BAM-BAM-bap-BOOOOM!!*

 

-that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! The boos rise even louder as Toxxic strides out through the smoke, staring neither right nor left as he quickly makes his way down to the ring where Anthony Michael Hall waits to officiate this match. However, a slightly different response greets his girlfriend Jet as she follows behind…

 

“LET’S GO JET! LET’S GO JET!”

 

“Of course,” LDP realises as the dreadlocked beauty waves enthusiastically at the crowd, “Jet is from Philadelphia, and it was in this very arena that she first appeared on our screens!”

 

“Yeah, dressed as a Girl Scout,” King reminisces. “One of the few good points of Stevens’ tenure in charge…”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms as Toxxic rolls into the ring, “and is for the Number One Contendership to the winner’s choice of title! Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Philadelphia’s own Jet-”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“-from Nottingham, England; he weighs in at 218lbs and is the leader of Revolution Zero,” Funyon continues, “the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Undeterred by the reception, Toxxic throws his arms wide to ignite yet more pyro atop each turnbuckle just as the verse kicks in…

 

bap-bap

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

‘I never thought this could be me

I guess you never do until it’s happening to you

As all the fun turns into shame

And all the ‘could-have-beens’ rearrange…’

 

“The last time Toxxic was in the Wachovia Centre he fought Insane Luchador all across it,” Pete reminds the viewers at home as the Straight-Edge Sensation strips off his T-shirt and throws it out to his girlfriend, “and remained Hardcore Gamer’s Champion. Tonight he has to face a man he has beaten once and lost to once, and the winner gets a shot at any damn title they want!”

 

 

‘I am the new way to go. I am the way of the future.’

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

‘After The Flesh’ by My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult kicks up over the speakers, and Philadelphia goes wild as Johnny Dangerous steps out into the smoke that is already building again at the top of the entrance ramp. For a moment the Barracuda just stands there, backlit by the laser lights and in shadow from his trenchcoat, the faintest hint of a reflection glinting off his shades; then Johnny takes his first step down towards the ring, and the noise level increases even more!

 

“AND HIS OPPONENT!” Funyon booms, desperately trying to make himself heard, “from Las Vegas, Nevada-”

 

“-a disgrace to a wonderful city!” King spits.

 

“-he weighs in tonight at 217lbs and is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions; this is JOHNNY… ‘THE BARRACUDA’… DAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGGGG-EROUSSSSSSSS!!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

Johnny slaps hands with the fans as he approaches the ring, but the eyes behind the sunglasses never seem to leave the man waiting for him in the ring. Johnny remembers Genesis V all too well… right up until the point where he passed out in the Regal Stretch. Some of that pain was erased by taking Toxxic’s Tag Title on the first Lockdown of 2005, but both men know that a singles match is a much different playing field. Toxxic just stands there, head slightly tilted to one side as he watches the Barracuda get closer.

 

“A year ago King, did you think that you would be looking at Johnny Dangerous as a former World Champion?” Pete questions. “It boggles the mind just how quickly this guy rose from his position in the midcard, and now he has the chance to get to the top again!”

 

“The last time Johnny Dangerous got delusions of grandeur, Toxxic slapped him back down again after a month,” Suicide King retorts. “It won’t take that long this time.”

 

“But King, he’s undefeated since returning to the SWF!” Pete argues as Johnny sheds his trenchcoat and divests himself of his title belt and shades. “You can’t argue against that sort of form!”

 

*DING-DING-DING*

 

The bell rings as Anthony Michael Hall signals that both competitors are ready to start, and they begin to circle cautiously. It’s not long since they locked horns, but now neither man has a partner to fall back on; it’s really going to come down to who wants this more.

 

“How many of those matches have been without Wildchild though?” King asks. “Johnny’s a Tag Champion again now, how much motivation can he have here? Whereas Toxxic has got nothing to distract him from what he wants; getting a shot at the World Title, no matter who’s hands it’s in!”

 

Neither Toxxic nor Johnny seem to have garnered anything particularly useful from their opening circling - no obvious weaknesses, or lack of mobility - and as a result both men seem happy enough to come in for a standard collar-and-elbow tie-up in the middle of the ring. Johnny has a slight strength advantage and pushes Toxxic back onto the ropes where Hall quickly enforces the break and the two men separate, Johnny backing away and then motioning Toxxic in again for another lock-up. The straight-edger doesn’t seem best pleased at having been overpowered and complies with some force, but this time instead of meeting Toxxic head-on Johnny pulls away at the last moment and takes the Brit down with a drop toehold, using his momentum against him. Dangerous then scoots into a rear mount position and slaps the back of Toxxic’s head a few times to rile his opponent up before smoothly swinging around to the front of the straight-edger and clamping on a front facelock!

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

The crowd are definitely in favour of the Barracuda, but a smattering of applause greets Johnny’s simple but effective mat wrestling work as well as the partisan chanting. Grinning tightly Johnny tries to increase the pressure on Toxxic’s head.

 

“Toxxic is already trapped where he doesn’t want to be,” Pete points out, “down on the mat where he can’t use his speed to good effect. King, Johnny can just wear the guy down and then hit him with a few kicks before finishing him off with a big move!”

 

“Overconfident as ever, Dogger,” Mr. Applewhite retorts. “I agree that Toxxic’s forte is hardly mat wrestling, but Johnny Dangerous isn’t exactly Olympic-standard either.”

 

Sure enough, the Barracuda seems to be settling for a ‘hold-and-squeeze’ approach, but even an opponent as limited as Toxxic is going to be able to find a way out sooner or later if you don’t keep presenting him with fresh challenges. The Straight-Edge Sensation is right now working on prying Johnny’s right arm loose from his neck with both hands, and try as he might Dangerous can’t quite prevent his grip from being lessened. A Francis or a Flesher might be able to transition into something else but Johnny’s wrestling background never really went that far, so the Barracuda instead starts to haul Toxxic upright in an effort to get him into position for a suplex before his grip is broken completely. Unfortunately for Johnny this merely gives Toxxic some room to wriggle in, and before Dangerous can hook him up Toxxic finally squirms free from Johnny’s hold and then uses his own grip on Johnny’s right arm to drop backwards and take the Barracuda over with an armdrag!

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

Dangerous rolls to his feet, but Toxxic was apparently content to simply get out of his predicament without worrying about following up as the Brit is rubbing his head slightly without ever taking his eyes off his opponent.

 

“I think Johnny wanted to infuriate Toxxic there, but the straight-edger managed to get out with little harm done,” LDP speculates. “It’s well-known that Toxxic doesn’t like being bettered at anything, whether it’s sheer strength or mat wrestling, so this approach might allow Johnny to throw his opponent off his game a bit!”

 

“If you want to get Toxxic angry that’s your lookout,” King shrugs as Toxxic beckons Johnny in, apparently wanting yet another lock-up, “but I think Johnny’s going to have to be careful. Although it’ll be much more fun if he isn’t…”

 

Johnny approaches Toxxic cautiously as the straight-edger raises his arms for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, but his hesitancy seems to cost him as Toxxic plunges into the lock-up with all his might and begins to force Johnny backwards. Dangerous evidently doesn’t trust Toxxic to give him a clean break on the ropes and starts to push in earnest, and it is at this point that Toxxic ceases to resist and falls backwards, taking Johnny over with another armdrag! Johnny tries to roll through and get back to his feet but Toxxic has retained his grip and is up first, and before the Barracuda can regain his footing Toxxic drops and spins through the air to wrench the right arm in its socket and send Johnny facefirst into the canvas. The Secret Agent bounces right back up again clutching his arm and is met by a-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-European uppercut that floors him!

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Johnny Dangerous rolls up from his prone position, now clutching his jaw and quite certain that the warm-up element of this match is at an end. Toxxic seems to have beaten him to the punch again though as the straight-edger dives across his shoulders, hooking him for an Oklahoma Roll and bringing him over for…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

-but Johnny kicks out the moment he is aware that his shoulders are on the mat, and Anthony Michael Hall only gets one! The Barracuda ends up on his front again, and before he can react Toxxic has grabbed his right arm and forced it up behind his back in a hammerlock. Then the straight-edger locks his right wrist between Johnny’s forearm and his bicep, presses down firmly with his left hand on Johnny’s right to keep it locked in place on the Secret Agent’s back, then performs a handstand that quickly falls forward into a bridge to apply even more pressure on the arm!

 

“Is that a somersault hammerlock?” King asks in surprise as Johnny cries out in pain. “Someone call Landon, he’ll want to know!”

 

“No my friend, that’s a poorly-applied bridging hammerlock,” LDP replies.

 

“Poorly applied?”

 

“Well, Johnny’s getting out if it isn’t he?”

 

Sure enough, the Barracuda is starting to wriggle free and lessening the pressure on his trapped arm. The movement throws Toxxic’s balance off slightly and the Straight-Edge Sensation’s bridge starts to wobble; moments later he abandons it and rolls away from Johnny before the Secret Agent can break the hold himself and possibly regain the upper hand.

 

“And this is why neither of these guys will even make a living mat wrestling,” Pete says as the two men rise back to their feet, Johnny shaking out his tweaked right arm, “neither of ‘em can follow up a hold to get a real advantage!”

 

“Who needs mat wrestling when you can be a spot-monkey?” King asks. “It’s an approach that’s served Toxxic well so far.”

 

“I thought you hated Maddix for being a spot-monkey?” the Longdogger protests, “c’mon King, a little bit of continuity at least…”

 

“Toxxic is a good spot-monkey,” Suicide King replies, causing Puro fans the world over to hold their heads in their hands.

 

Neither Toxxic nor Johnny have managed to gain anything particularly worthy from their lock-ups so far, so Johnny decides to change tactics; the Barracuda raises one hand on high, inviting his straight-edge opponent to join him in a Greco-Roman knucklelock. Toxxic looks rather dubiously at the proposed test of strength, stretches a black-nailed hand up to comply… but moments before their fingers mesh the Straight-Edge Sensation abruptly boots Johnny in the stomach and grabs his head, then twists the doubled-over Barracuda around before dropping him with a neckbreaker.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“And for all Toxxic’s hot air about ‘respect’ earlier tonight when he was talking to Dace Night, he doesn’t show any to Johnny Dangerous!” LDP shouts angrily.

 

“Oh, be quiet,” King snaps, “if Johnny wants to give Toxxic an open invitation to kick him in the stomach, let him.”

 

Johnny doesn’t quite have time to shake off the effects of the sudden move before Toxxic is hauling him back up again, evidently keen to get the match moving into the quicker pace that normally benefits him. The straight-edger pushes Johnny back into the ropes before Irish-whipping him across the ring, but Johnny reverses the momentum and sends Toxxic into the far cables instead. Toxxic rebounds and heads full speed back at Dangerous but ducks at the last moment as he sees a patented Johnny spinning heelkick heading his way. The straight-edger manages to pass unscathed but Johnny lands on his feet, retaining his balance despite the blow missing. The Secret Agent turns and waits for Toxxic to return once more, and this time the man from Las Vegas manages to scoop his opponent up in a hiptoss and dump him down onto the canvas!

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

Dangerous immediately drops an elbow in an attempt to catch Toxxic napping, but the slippery Brit is up to the challenge and rolls aside despite his unexpected landing moments earlier. Both men scramble up but Johnny is a little bit quicker; however, as he tries to grab his opponent Toxxic simply rams his shoulder forward into the Barracuda’s midriff and leaves him gasping for air, then straightens up and cleans Johnny’s clock with another European uppercut!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Johnny staggers back and Toxxic moves in, looking to throw his signature combo:

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LE-

-but Johnny blocks the left hand, then fires back with two stiff Shoteis from alternating hands-

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

-before leaping into the air and bringing his right foot whipping around to connect with Toxxic’s head in a brutal enzuigiri!

 

*WHACK!*

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

Toxxic is lying by the ropes, brains clearly scrambled by that last exchange as the Barracuda gave him a lesson in striking that the fans in attendance are relishing! With a grin on his face Johnny Dangerous grabs Toxxic and hauls him upright, then pushes the straight-edger backwards until he is bent back over the ropes and his chest is exposed. The Secret Agent raises his right hand in the air, then delivers an openhand chop to the Brit’s chest!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Toxxic yells in pain as the blow lights him up, but Johnny simply bends him backwards again and then delivers another one!

 

*CRACK!*

 

This time Johnny allows Toxxic to stagger forwards off the ropes, but merely lashes out with a right hand… a left hand… a right hand… a left hand…

 

“He’s stealing Toxxic’s combo,” King shouts in anger, “that’s totally unfair!”

 

…but Johnny has his own variation, as he pauses for a moment to let the cheers of the fans build, then instead of flattening the wobbly Toxxic with a discus clothesline he spins the other way and knocks him sprawling with a vicious Uraken!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“JOHN-NY!” *clap-clap-clap*

 

“JOHN-NY!” *clap-clap-clap*

 

With Toxxic on his front and evidently a bit groggy Johnny decides to try his luck and grabs Toxxic’s right leg, then sits forward into the Barracuda! However this seems to galvanise the Straight-Edge Sensation into action and before Johnny can get the hold fully locked in he quickly crawls forwards and grabs the bottom rope to force Dangerous to break the hold. Johnny backs off and waits for Toxxic to rise, but he doesn’t wait too long as before the Brit has fully pulled himself up on the ropes Johnny has moved in again and grabs his arm.

 

“Rope break!” King yells at Hall to no avail, “rope break!”

 

Toxxic isn’t on the ropes long though, as Johnny whips his opponent towards the far cables instead and adopts a waiting pose in the middle of the ring. As Toxxic comes back he ducks his head slightly and scoops the onrushing straight-edger up into a Fireman’s carry position, then takes a couple of steps backwards to give himself a run-up…

 

“We could be about to see the Spinal Explosion!” Pete shouts in anticipation.

 

…but as Johnny starts to run forward Toxxic shifts his weight and manages to fall backwards, landing behind the Secret Agent and hooking him into a reverse headlock as he does so. Before Johnny can react Toxxic drops to one knee and drives the other up into the back of the Barracuda’s neck, then hoists Johnny back upright before sitting out to complete the Detoxx with an inverted DDT.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Johnny grabs the back of his head and neck as he lies on the mat, and Toxxic rolls away trying to fully shake off the effects of the blows he took from Dangerous. However, the straight-edger knows that he can’t afford Johnny time to recover from that timely reversal and so he continues his rolling until he passes under the ropes to the apron, whereupon he pulls himself up and readies himself to leap into action.

 

“It was possibly too early for that move, Johnny should have worn Toxxic down a bit more,” Pete says with the benefit of 20-20 hindsight, “but is Toxxic gonna make the same mistake by taking to the air too soon?”

 

“He can’t outstrike Johnny and neither man can get an advantage through actually wrestling, so he’s got to fly if he’s going to win this,” King replies with surprising heat. “Let the man get the results before you criticise the means.”

 

Johnny is up now, still holding his head and looking around for his opponent. Toxxic waits for the right moment, then leaps to the top rope and springboards across the ring, wrapping his legs around Johnny’s head and snapping backwards to take the Secret Agent over with a hurricanrana, causing him to land and skid across the canvas on the back of his neck. Wrestling instincts prompt Johnny to turn over onto his front again to prevent a quick pin attempt and he pushes himself up onto all fours, but this only allows Toxxic to hit him with a basement dropkick that snaps Johnny’s head sideways and sends his body sliding until his head sticks out under the ropes and just over the edge of the apron. Toxxic sees the inherent opportunity in this and scrambles back up, then slingshots himself over the top rope…

 

…AND RIGHT DOWN TO THE ARENA FLOOR, NEARLY TAKING JOHNNY’S HEAD OFF WITH A LEGDROP ON THE WAY DOWN!!

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“That’s insane!” LDP yelps as Johnny’s limp body slithers out to the floor, “he almost decapitated Johnny Dangerous with that move!”

 

“Almost…” King sighs, “ah well, even the best wrestlers have limitations.”

 

Johnny is moving - just - after that hit, but it seems to have sent the Barracuda into a private world of hurt where movement is secondary. However, Toxxic crashed and burned on his own landing and standing seems to be beyond the straight-edger at the moment. Seeing both men down on the outside, Anthony Michael Hall is forced to begin his ten-count.

 

‘ONE!’

 

 

‘TWO!’

 

 

Toxxic grabs the steel guardrail in an attempt to haul himself up, but his first attempt fails as his hip doesn’t seem to support the motion.

 

 

‘THREE!’

 

 

‘FOUR!’

 

 

Seeing her boyfriend’s predicament, Jet hurries around the ring to check on him. It’s a sign of Toxxic’s pain that he doesn’t wave away the help, but instead allows Jet to assist him upright as Hall continues counting.

 

 

‘FIVE!’

 

 

Something seems to be stirring in Johnny’s head as Toxxic rolls gingerly under the ropes, but the Barracuda is a long way away from following his opponent back into the squared circle and Toxxic motions - somewhat superfluously - for Hall to continue his count as he grabs the ropes to try and pull himself up under his own power.

 

 

‘SIX!’

 

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

 

The chants are starting to rise inside the Wachovia Center, and this more than anything else seems to be getting through to Johnny that there’s something he needs to be doing. Weakly, the Barracuda starts to push himself upright.

 

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

 

Anthony Michael Hall has to keep counting, and beside him all Toxxic can do is lean over the ropes and watch, currently unable to do anything more active than stand up.

 

 

‘EIGHT!’

 

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

 

With a massive effort, Johnny Dangerous pushes himself up and grabs the apron as Toxxic visibly curses. The Straight-Edge Sensation limps backwards to give himself a bit of room as Hall raises his hand one more time…

 

 

‘NIIIIIIIIIIIIINE…’

 

 

“LET’S GO JOHNNY!”

 

 

Johnny Dangerous takes hold of the bottom two ropes and heaves…

 

 

…and just manages to get his torso into the ring before the fateful final syllable leaves Hall’s lips! However, the Barracuda may have saved himself from a countout loss but he is currently helpless against Toxxic, as the straight-edger limps back over and drops to begins hammering Johnny with rights! Anthony Michael Hall doesn’t even bother to count, as he simply hauls Toxxic off while informing him in no uncertain terms that Johnny is still technically in the ropes.

 

“So where do we go from here?” Pete quizzes his commentary partner as Toxxic bites out a swearword at Hall, struggling to get back to his feet from the ungainly position he’s been dumped in. “Toxxic can hardly stand at the minute - he certainly can’t leap around - and Johnny doesn’t seem to be able to do much more than crawl!”

 

“We go to a win!” King responds as Toxxic reaches out to grab Johnny’s arm, then hauls the Secret Agent away from the ropes and covers him for a pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Johnny kicks out and the Wachovia Centre rises in response! Toxxic glares at Hall through his eyeliner but the bully from Edward Scissorhands remains adamant and brandishes the damning two fingers. Toxxic responds with a two-finger salute of his own as he flips the ref a v-sign, then starts to stand. It’s a painful process for the straight-edger but it seems that the pain in his hip is subsiding slightly since he is able to push himself up, then grabs both of Johnny’s arms and tries to haul the Barracuda up after him.

 

“Surely Toxxic can’t be going for the Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” LDP says in amazement, “he’ll never get Johnny off the ground!”

 

Despite the Longdogger’s disbelief however, Toxxic does indeed seem to be trying to get the Secret Agent up into a double underhook. It takes him a few seconds before his persistence seems to pay off, then the Straight-Edge Sensation takes a deep breath and heaves…

 

…only for his right leg to buckle as the commentator predicted and Toxxic to barely retain his own balance! Some of the crowd laughs and some start chanting in support of Johnny again, but Toxxic locks his hands tighter and goes to lift again - and at that moment Johnny heaves upwards with all his strength! For a moment Toxxic’s feet leaves the ground, but the pressure on the back of Johnny’s hurt neck means the Barracuda can’t follow through with the back bodydrop and Toxxic escapes going for the ride. However, the straight-edger’s grip lessened as he felt himself rising upwards, and now Johnny is able to free his arms and hook Toxxic behind the knees, then pull the Brit’s legs out from under him and dump him down onto his back!

 

“RAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

"There's fight left in Johnny Dangerous still!" Longdogger Pete shouts as the Secret Agent wobbles with Toxxic's legs in his grasp. Not much fight however, as after a moment Johnny collapses forwards...

 

*CHING!*

 

...and drops his head square between Toxxic's legs!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"That's illegal!" King scream in rage. "Disqualify him Hall! Do your job!"

 

But referee Anthony Michael Hall judges that Johnny's errant headbutt was not intentional as the Barracuda makes no move to follow up, instead just rolling onto his side and still clutching at his neck. Toxxic's actions are rather more frenzied as the straight-edger writhes across the ring, clutching at his happy-happy-joy-joy area as he goes.

 

"And now we have a very interesting match indeed," Pete asserts, "cos both men have a notable weakpoint! Toxxic's legdrop to the outside definitely hurt Johnny's neck which would set up all sorts of possibilities for the Straight-Edge Sensation, but his own landing means that Toxxic's hip and probably his lower back are hurt - and a lot of Johnny's big moves target the back!"

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

Wearily, Johnny Dangerous starts to haul himself up on the ringropes. The pain in his neck is slowly starting to diminish, but it still causes him to see black spots if he moves too quickly. Across the ring he sees that Toxxic is also starting to stand, albeit in a rather hunched-over way, and Johnny makes his move. The sprint is more of a lumber and the spinning heelkick that he launches at Toxxic's head has much less crispness than usual... but it still connects, and knocks the Brit back down.

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

Johnny staggers up again, still clutching the back of his neck, and grabs Toxxic by the head as the fans rally behind him once more. With one heave the Barracuda gets his opponent up, then places him in a front facelock and raises three fingers in the air!

 

"Johnny's going for those rolling vertical suplexes," Pete exclaims, "and if he hits them then Toxxic's back could be in a world of trouble!"

 

Johnny throws Toxxic's right arm over his neck and braces himself to lift, but Toxxic blocks it! Johnny tries again, but now the Brit has a new tactic and he squeezes as hard as he can with his right arm, putting pressure on Johnny's traumatised vertebrae. Dangerous cries out as Toxxic proves yet again what a pain in the neck he is, and with his opponent's grip momentarily relaxed Toxxic shrugs Johnny's arm off, then drops to one knee and drives the other up into Johnny's face before falling backwards and spiking him with a DDT!

 

*CRUNCH-WHAM!*

 

"And that's a Sobering Thought!" King shouts joyfully. “Cover him!”

 

But Toxxic doesn’t seem to want to take the advice of the Gambling Man, neglecting to make the pin in favour of heading for the turnbuckle. It takes Toxxic a few more seconds than usual to haul himself up with his bad hip, although the pain seems to be receding slightly as he can now at least climb to the top rope. The straight-edger twirls his fingers over his head to signal for the Hangover… but then seems to reconsider, and instead starts to climb gingerly back down again!

 

“What’s he doing?” Pete asks in astonishment as Toxxic touches down. “He might have been able to put Johnny away there!”

 

“Toxxic’s already landed badly once,” King reminds his commentary partner, “he doesn’t want to risk it again!”

 

Indeed, Toxxic seems content to drop a much safer elbow; however, this goes awry as Johnny is able to roll out of the way, perhaps given enough time to recover by Toxxic’s indecision! Johnny struggles over to all fours and pushes himself up to one knee, desperately trying to fight through the pain in his neck.

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Toxxic pushes himself up too, but Johnny dives forward and lashes out with a Shotei-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-that sends the straight-edger sprawling! Johnny then grabs Toxxic’s left leg… AND TURNS HIM OVER INTO THE BARRACUDA!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“YOU GOTTA TAP!”

 

“YOU GOTTA TAP!”

 

“Johnny Dangerous has the Barracuda on Toxxic, and we could be about to see him tap out for only the second time ever!” LDP screams as the roof nearly comes off the Wachovia Center.

 

Johnny leans forward, grimly clutching Toxxic’s leg as he does so. However, Toxxic isn’t done yet and with an almighty effort he pushes himself up with his hands, gritting his teeth at the added pressure on his back… then uses the extra space to tuck his head in and roll forwards, pulling Johnny off-balance! The Brit’s hands desperately reach back and grab Johnny’s left ankle, and now it’s the Barracuda’s turn to feel unstable! Johnny tries to keep his balance but can’t quite manage it, and as he falls forward Toxxic pulls the rest of his body out of the way, then starts to lock Johnny’s legs together!

 

“He’s going for the Regal Stretch!” Suicide King shouts, “this is exactly how it ended at Genesis!”

 

But Johnny remembers that too, and he kicks his legs desperately to prevent the full-body submission from being applied. Toxxic’s grip is broken and Johnny rolls away, then as Toxxic scrambles after him the Secret Agent surges back to his feet and wraps his arm around the straight-edger’s chest before hoisting him up and slamming him back down with a Uranage!

 

*BANG!*

 

Without wasting a second, Johnny goes for the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHRRRRRR-

-but Toxxic shoots an arm off the canvas, and the Barracuda is denied his prize for the moment! The close count seems to have given Johnny renewed energy though, and he gets to his feet and backs away from Toxxic in preparation for something else. Toxxic starts to push himself up as well, holding his back as he does so, and as Johnny carefully readjusts his position to keep exactly behind the Straight-Edge Sensation LDP realises what he has in mind.

 

“Heads up folks,” the former XF9 leader barks as Johnny moves in, “we could be about to see the EMMM! IIIIIII!! SLAAAAAAAAAA-”

 

-but as Johnny hoists Toxxic up onto his shoulders and begins to fall backwards Toxxic manages to shift his weight and slips out of Dangerous’ grip, landing harmlessly on his feet behind the Secret Agent!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Johnny whirls around, but is met by a crunching head BUTT-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-that sends him staggering backwards, eyes watering! Toxxic doesn’t waste any time; the Straight-Edge Sensation grabs Johnny and hauls the Barracuda towards him, then bends his knees and takes Johnny up onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s carry. For a moment it looks like Toxxic’s leg might give way but the Brit has had some time to recover, and despite his hurt back he can carry opponents a lot heavier than Johnny Dangerous on his shoulders - this is just to make sure. Toxxic takes one, two steps towards the centre of the ring… then hooks his left arm behind Johnny’s leg and spins the Barracuda off his shoulders, spiking him headfirst into the canvas!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“CAFFEINE BOMB Mk II!” King shouts as Toxxic keeps hold of Johnny’s leg for the pin. Anthony Michael Hall dives to make his count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match and Number One Contender for the title of his choice,” Funyon booms over the boos that are filling the Wachovia Center, “TOXXXX-IIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“I told you he’d do it!” King shouts at LDP as Toxxic wearily raises one arm. “That move has put away Dace Night and Nathaniel Kibagami, there’s no way Johnny could have kicked out!”

 

“Folks, we’ve got the very same Dace Night coming up and he’ll be taking on Mak Francis!” Pete shills, eager to get off the topic. “After this short break we could be having the match of the year, and we’re only in January!”

 

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Chuck Woolery 0]

“And we are back! Tonight’s card has been full of great match and this one should be no exception. They call these Main Events for a reason and believe me—we’ll be seeing something special tonight!”

 

“Something special ED, maybe.” chimes in King. “I don’t get why Tom Flesher of all people would put two people in the Main Event that couldn’t even hold his jockstrap! Take it away Funyon!”

 

The camera cuts to a wide shot of Funyon in the ring. The audience behind him is flashing all different kinds of signs. Most are pro-Franchise, because tonight the Wachovia Center is his house!

 

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL with a twenty minute time limit and is tonight’s Main Event!”

 

“SO DO YOU WANNA BE A FRANCHISE!”

 

“AND LIVE LARGE!”

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

 

“A BIG HOUSE—FIVE CARS—THE RENT CHARGE…”

 

The SmarkTron explodes to life with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat.

 

“Comin up in the world—don't trust nobody—gotta look over your shoulder constantly!"

 

As the opening lyrics from Rock Superstar by Cypress Hill, slightly altered of course, blare over the PA system, the crowd continues its’ untamed frenzy of cheers!! It takes a little while but eventually the self proclaimed franchise makes his way through the curtain. The lights come back up and Francis comes out onto the stage, tilting his ice blue Oakley’s down on the bridge of his nose, before looking left and then right…

 

“I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up—lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!”

 

That cues multiple short bursts of green pyrotechnics erupting from either side of him. He readjusts his shades with a smirk, before slowly strolling down to ringside.

 

“Introducing first, from PHILADELPHIA, PA,” huge pop, “weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds and making his return to the Smarks Wrestling Federation, please welcome back a former United States and ICTV champion, he is the one true Franchise… MAAAAAAK FRAAAAANCIS!”

 

The Franchise’s trench coat billows behind him as he comes down the walkway slapping hands. He nods his head, taking in the cheers, making it to and up the ring steps.

 

“After what—a year on the shelf, the Franchise makes his in ring return to the SWF!”

 

Mak struts to the middle of the apron, cockily wipes his feet and after giving a salute to the crowd, steps inside, entering through the middle ropes. Francis climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses with both fists raised in the air. A tsunami of flashes escapes from fans cameras, getting there first glimpse of the Franchise in a year!!

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s see the guy actually wrestle first.”

The transition from hip-hop to heavy metal is quick and painless as the blackness on the Smarkton shatters into pieces. It’s clear to the crowd and everyone in the arena who is coming to the ring, as the deep drums intro "Painkiller". Strobing lights and pyro come to life as the song kicks in, and Dace Night steps through the curtain!

 

"Here comes the man that turned violence into an art form. Tonight he’ll show you that he’s just as good, if not better, at straight up wrestling.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s see the guy actually wrestle first.”

 

“You don’t like either of them do you?”

 

"And his opponent!” shouts Funyon, as the crowd cheers. “He now resides in Tampa Bay, Florida, weighing in at two hundred fifty five pounds; he is the inventor of “Horrorcore”… DAAAACE!”

 

FUCKIN’!

 

“NIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

 

“Nope.” says King, after deliberating on it for a second.

 

Night rushes down to ringside, and climbs up the steps, moving towards the middle of the ring and throwing up the metal horns for the Philly fans. The pro-Franchise crowd is somewhat mixed, but still giving Dace the love he deserves. Mak looks on at Night from the corner, betraying little emotion.

 

”It should be noted that the only time these two have faced was in the Genesis IV tournament and Mak came out of that the victor. The same night you King, tried to strip him of the ICTV title…”

 

“He lost in the first round for Gods sake! How can I be faulted for thinking he’s not worthy of a belt when Quiz beat him easily. Now, that was a guy destine for belts—whatever happened to him?”

 

“I don’t know, King, but while the names are the same; these are different circumstances and different men from a year ago. Will the outcome change or be the same? That’s what we’re about to find out!”

 

Ding—Ding—Ding!

 

Francis and Night continue to turn the circle, gauging each other from far away. Finally, Dace takes the initiative and slides forward, beckoning for a grapple. Mak looks wary, but falls right back into things; crashing together with Dace! The two grapple for position, with Night easily taking control and moving into a side headlock. Night grinds the hold in, but Francis’ arm goes up to Dace’s face, guiding him back towards the ropes with familiar ease. A well placed kidney shot gets Mak some separation and he sends the High Priest of Horrorcore to run the ropes. But Dace rebounds back and rapidly meets Mak center ring – knocking him to the mat with a shoulderblock!

 

“Welcome back to the SWF, Mak Francis!” states a chuckling King, as the Franchise looks up at the imposing form of the White Night. Night backs away, nodding his head, while Mak rubs his neck briefly and stands. The Philly crowd shouts words of encouragement, as the two walk the ring again, dancing around to gain some kind of tactical advantage.

 

“Francis looks a little surprised by that outcome, but Dace, the muscle-bound moron, is clearly the stronger of the two. He would do well to remember that.”

 

“Dace is stronger,” notes Pete, ignoring King’s snide comment, “but Mak had to know that coming in. We’ll see as the match progresses how he intends to deal with that fact or if he can even deal with it at all.” he adds, pausing for effect. “I think he can.”

 

They come together again, but this time Mak is quicker, flowing smoothly into a side headlock of his own. The Philly faithful cheer, as Francis flashes a smirk, proving he isn’t as foreign to the ring as it might seem at the moment. Dace mimics the Franchise’s earlier idea, backing them into the ropes and firing Mak away, but Francis holds on to the headlock, digging in!

 

“See King, even after a year away from action—it’s just like riding a bike for the Franchise.”

 

The smirk gets wider, as Night backs him up again and scores a shot to the ribs this time before sending him away. This time Mak rebounds back, but neither man falls from the shoulderblock. Mak raises an eyebrow and rushes back to the ropes, with Night waving him forward and the result is completely different, or in reality the same. Dace on his feet and Mak on his back!

 

“Yeah, just like riding a bike, Pete—into a goddamn brick wall!”

 

“Point taken. Mak Francis did just get reintroduced to the SWF, courtesy of Dace Night.”

 

Night backs away again, while Mak gets to a knee, as if proving his point and Francis nods his head beckoning Dace forward for a collar and elbow. Dace obliges and the two jockey for position, until Mak spins into a top wristlock and catches the White Night with a back heel trip, sending him to the canvas! Francis snitches in a keylock – but Night keeps one shoulder up off the mat and counters out of the keylock, twisting into a hammerlock. Dace pushes on the hold, but Francis sits out and feels outs the hammerlock, looking and waiting for an opportunity to counter.

 

The Franchise pats his shoulder while getting to a crouch and then suddenly drops low again, floating Horrorcore overhead and to the mat with a fireman’s carry. Francis goes to control the arm, getting a kneeling arm-bar, but Dace works in the hold and turns into the Franchise’s body. Francis sees it coming, but Night is too quick and from his kneeling position pops Mak in the face with an elbow. With Francis stunned, Night snatches Mak’s leg with his free arm and drives him down with a single leg takedown. The Franchise’s shoulders never hit the mat though, as he lands on his one knee, while wrapping his arms around Nights middle, executing a gut-wrench hold! Francis still slightly disoriented struggles to send Dace over, but Night sandbags, leaving the two at a stalemate.

 

”These two wrestlers are working hard for every hold as you can see.”

 

Mak regains his head, and realizing he’ll have no luck lifting Dace for the grounded gut-wrench lets go and spins behind. The sudden action surprises Night and caught off balance; Francis wraps both arms around his waist and levers backwards in a rolling prawn pin! Before Kivell can hit the mat, Francis lets go of the pin and dives at the arm of Night for a fujiwara takedown!

 

“A Fujiwara arm-bar! He knew that pin wouldn’t get the job done again Dace at this point in the match, so he went to something that legitimately could!”

 

Parts of the crowd rise to their feet to see the action, as Mak pushes for all he’s worth to take the kneeling Night down. Francis shakes with strain, while Night braces himself with his other arm, to avoid the flash submission – but Dace doesn’t go down; instead rolling forward to break the hold – but Mak won’t let go and they end up back in the same dogfight they were just having!! “Francis holding on like a pitbull!” notes Pete, as the Franchise drives his elbow into Night’s bicep fighting to take him down! Dace bends at the waist, struggling a little bit now to keep off the mat, but extends his leg and sweeps an unsuspecting Francis onto his back!

 

“Counter!” shouts King, as Night spins around in front of Mak and grabs both his legs! The rest of the crowd that wasn’t standing jump from their seats at this, cheering Mak on as he struggles in the set-up for Dace’s Torture Crab!! Dace bends at the waist to leverage the Franchise over, and in that moment, Mak grabs his head and pulls him into a small package!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO—No! Both men fly away from each other, getting to their feet. Mak, breathing somewhat heavily, dashes forward and lifts his leg for a Yakuza kick, but Horrorcore ducks and loops around behind a surprised Franchise for a German suplex, as Pete shouts the action! “Yakuza kick—no! German suplex by Dace—No! Countered with a Standing switch…”

 

Pete’s call is dead on, as Mak pries at Dace’s fingers and loops around behind. Night fights, reaching for the ropes, but Francis pulls him away. Night changes tactics hitting a back elbow to the Franchise, but even though he’s stunned slightly, Mak arches back landing the German suplex! Francis holds on and rolls to his feet for a second German, but Dace won’t allow this to go any further and blasts Mak with two more elbows! Francis lets go as Night fires off a final elbow, allowing the Franchise to duck low for a Northern lights suplex! Dace is STILL one step ahead though and counters, lacing one of Mak’s arms to attempt a double chickenwing…

 

“Defenestration!” shouts Pete, as Francis breaks free and tumbles into the ropes. “Defenestration attempt—and Mak bails quickly!”

 

Mak heads outside the ring and catches his breath, as Night lets Kivell count. “Look at Francis… he looks dead tired! He’s sucking wind like a turbine engine out there!”

 

“Well it makes sense, King. We keep saying it’s his first match back, but we seemed to forget how tough it is to get into ring shape.” Mak continues to pace outside the ring, the count now at four. “Even Dace is still struggling with that somewhat and he’s wrestled a few matches.”

 

“Matches that he lost, Pete!” adds King, as Francis waves at the ref to move Night so he can enter. “And the same thing is going to happen to Francis here—in his own hometown no less!”

 

At seven Mak re-enters and slowly stands, looking for another tie-up! Dace having gotten the advantage from all three earlier attempts is happy to do so, but Francis stuns his opponent with a toe kick to the gut! Dace hunches over and the Franchise loops beside him, striking with a kidney punch and chaining it into a side Russian leg sweep! Francis floats into a graceful cover, as Kivell hits the mat…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T—No! Dace kicks out with ease. Night attempts to get up, but Francis is quick to counteract, grabbing Horrorcore by the head and stomping down with authority, raking Dace’s face across his knee brace! Night holds his head for a second but is made of tougher stuff than that and tries again to rise. Mak, still breathing hard, drops the point of his elbow on the nape of Dace’s neck. Once, twice, three times; trying to buy himself time. Grabbing Night’s arm, he spins into an arm wringer.

 

“Francis outsmarting Night there with a toe kick and some quick offence has placed him in control.”

 

“It’s not that hard to outsmart a man who doesn’t realize human beings and weeds aren’t the same thing.”

 

“Still, Mak clearly not as tired as we first thought, but you can see definite fatigue. He’s not a methodically wrestler, but that’s what we’ve seen after that early exchange, now that he’s in control.”

 

Mak backs Night into the corner and rears back—

 

*Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

*Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Dace takes the vicious chops to the chest with a little start and then he fires off a nasty elbow smash!!

 

*Crack!*

 

Mak stumbles back blinking in pain. He regains his bearings and fires off rapid fire weak chops, which Dace takes and accelerates through with a devastating elbow barrage!

 

*Crack!*

 

*Crack!*

 

*Crack!*

 

“Dace wins that face off easily and is now pressing the issue. He sees it too King. Mak Francis is struggling to keep up! Dace with an Irish whip here—no, reversal and Mak sends Dace on the ride.” The High Priest runs the ropes and comes back directly into the awaiting arms of the Franchise. Mak, still laboring, grasps Dace high, prepping to pop his hips in a Railgun suplex, but he is much too slow and Night whips his head forward smashing face with forehead in a head BUTT! A second head BUTT breaks the hold easily and as Mak’s hands go to his ailing face, Dace lifts him up and plants him down with an inverted atomic drop! Night grabs the hopping Franchise, by the arm and whips him away clocking him on the return with a straight elbow to the jaw! Mak goes down in a heap and Night covers…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

TH—No! Francis kicks out and then one hand immediately goes to his nuts while the other finds his face. “Mak is hurting now.” King points out once again, almost reveling in it. Pete on the other hand is more sympathetic. “It just takes awhile to get used to getting hit like this on a regular basis. Night now clearly in charge pulls a sandbagging Mak up around the waist and slams him back down to the canvas in a nearly Dead-lift Gut-wrench suplex!!

 

“See, this is the power of a Dace Night! Mak couldn’t do the same gut-wrench earlier in the match, with better leverage, but Dace just completely overpowered him.”

 

Night falls into another pin, as Kivell counts…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE—No! Mak gets a shoulder up, fighting hard to stay in the match! Dace, going back to what he knows, picks Francis up and scores with his dangerous elbow strikes, each one sending Mak bouncing into the middle ropes, as he rebounds back stumbling forward for more punishment! The Philly crowd chant for the Franchise trying to will him back into the match as he gets peppered with elbow, after elbow! Francis is weary like a punch drunk boxer and Dace lets him wobble out to center ring, eying him up a high kick – but Mak, in a desperation move counters the Yakuza kick into a Head and leg suplex! Mak tries to stay on the offensive realizing that he needs to take out Nights arm if he doesn’t want his head knocked off… so he follows up with a Single arm DDT – but THAT gets countered with a STO-esque maneuver from Dace!!!

 

Dace picks up Mak and as they end up face to face Dace scores a kick to the midsection that hunches Mak over. He steps over top, placing him in a standing headscissors… Night bends from the waist and keeping his hands hooked around Mak’s thighs!! Everyone knows what’s coming now…

 

“WILDBOMB!” shouts Pete. “Dace is going for the match ender right now!”

 

Night attempts to lifts, but suddenly, his feet are taken from under him and Dace is staring up at the lights! Mak Francis has countered with a jackknife pin!!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE—No! Dace gets back on Mak with a Brainbuster, but it’s countered into ‘That’s Franchisable’! Then Francis knowing he needs something big goes for a Superplex! He sets it up – but Dace battles out, but as Dace steps over the ropes up top Mak follows him back up and brings him down with a Mak super single arm DDT~!

 

Both men are down!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

Parts of the crowd rise to their feet to see the action, as Mak pushes to his feet and dives for Night arm, going for a fujiwara. He pushes for all he’s worth to take the kneeling Night down. Francis shakes with strain, while Night braces himself with his other arm, to avoid the flash submission – but Dace doesn’t go down; instead rolling forward to break the hold – but this time Mak rolls with it and lands in a Cross arm-break attempt, which Night blocks and countered into a pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE—No! Mak spring up to his feet, then ‘The Franchise’ picks up and sends Dace across in a cross corner whip and Night hits the buckles, stumbling out, as Mak darts of the far ropes and takes him to the mat, from behind with a bulldog!! Most of the crowd knows what’s coming up next and prepare to be amused, as Francis slowly but surely pushes himself up to his feet. Mak stands, and to the surprise of the crowd, lunges towards the near ropes, bouncing off them with authority, before jumping and punching Night square in the nose with a fist drop!! “No showmanship there from ‘the Franchise’, but never the less the truth hurts and some things just need to be said!”

 

Mak goes for the Franchise Tag, but it’s countered, so Dace and Francis trade blows face to face, tired and weary. Francis, rearing back, swing away with a scintillating knife-edge chop!!

 

*Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Dace takes the vicious chop to the chest with a little start and then he fires off a nasty elbow smash!!

 

*Crack!*

 

Mak is stunned by the power of the blow and stumbles back, dead tired – but Dace’s blows don’t have the same power behind them as earlier. Not enough to stop him from rearing back once again and hitting a second blood vessel popping, knife-edge chop!!

 

*Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Dace, after taking all those chops in the match is actually hurt by this one and takes a step back, only to plant his feet and blast the Franchise with his second elbow smash, ignoring the pain in his arm!!

 

*Crack!*

 

Francis falls back multiple steps, but he regains his balance and moves back into Dace’s face. The two men just stand there, Mak looking up into Dace’s eyes, after they traded such brutal looking strikes…

 

“…There just standing there… staring each other down…” mumbles King, as Mak is not to be outdone by the man who made Horrorcore. Mak starts talking; his head moving back and forth quickly. The crowd catches on beginning to cheer.

 

Dace mans up and hits another elbow to the Franchise that sends him falling into the middle rope, but Mak bounces off of it and explodes forward hitting a Yakuza kick!! Night falls back himself, realizing the elbows aren’t having the same effect and uses the ropes for momentum plastering Mak with a Yakuza kick!

 

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

 

”How smart!” says King sarcastically. “The crowd is starting up dueling chants, during the dueling kicks, oh the irony.”

 

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

 

Dace stumbles back and stops, before backing up into the ropes once again, running forward for what he thinks will be the FINAL Yakuza kick—

 

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

 

”Ducked!”

 

Mak loops around behind and…

 

“German suplex by the Franchise, but he’s not letting go! Rolling Germans!!!” Dace gets pulled up to his feet with Francis, but doesn’t surrender to his suplex, trying to runs into the ropes, but Francis’ renewed spirit helps him hold on! Dace struggles to hold on, as Francis fights to pull him back to the middle of the ring! Night fires off back elbows again, just as Mak succeeds in pulling him away, allowing the Franchise to pops his hips in—

 

*Thump!*

 

—Another German suplex!! Francis rolls up to his feet again, with the crowd cheering both competitors, with dueling chants during this great contest!

 

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

LET’S GO MAK! DACE F’N NIGHT!

 

Dace trying to save himself from what he’s sure is a head drop fires off another back elbow! Mak finally gets dazed some, as Night shoots off about his sixth elbow… but Francis ducks, leaping into the air and wrapping his legs around Night’s neck scissoring his arm!!

 

“Triangle choke! Early in the match Dace countered a Northern Light attempts into a shot at his double arm DDT, but Mak learned from that and now goes after the weakened arm, plus tries to make Dace submit!”

 

Dace is fading fast but reaches back and lifts Mak up, just to slam him back down to the canvas with a one-armed powerbomb!!

 

“Dace’s arm is in trouble, but what a counter that was folks! He can’t make the cover! Can Dace get there and end it?”

 

Dace and Mak respond to the count at six, as Night guides Francis up just enough so that he can trap him in a standing head scissors, once again. The crowd not knowing what to do just, sits with baited breath, as Dace attempts to lift him again for the powerbomb he countered earlier…

 

LET’S GO MAK! LET’S GO MAK! LET’S GO MAK!

 

Dace lifts him into the air… only for Francis to fall back down to the canvas still in the headscissors on his feet. “Can Dace do it? He is one Powerbomb away from winning this match-up! Francis has showed unbelievable spirit here tonight after losing his wind early, but Night willl end this if he hits the Powerbomb!” Finally, Dace rewraps his arms around the gut of Francis, letting out a Danny Williams like grunt before hoisting him up into position for a powerbomb…

 

…only to have his arm give way! Mak falls back to the canvas on his knee and the crowd sighs in relief!

 

“He can’t do it! Dace Night, the musclebound idiot, isn’t strong enough to hit the Powerbomb on his bum arm!”

 

Night, at the end of his rope, looks around the ring. He can’t personally hold Mak up high enough for a big impact move, so how can he get him into the air with holding him? He finally spots his answer, as Mak crawls to the corner, in hopes of buying himself some time. Little does he know, he’s only hurt himself. Dace shuffles over to the downed Franchise and using his good arm, pushes him up to the top rope! The crowd stands once again, sure that something big is about to happen. Dace Night saw that he couldn’t hold Francis up, so he’s using the top rope to do that and momentum for a move that’ll finally put Mak away!”

 

They go up top and battle over a super backdrop suplex!! The battle is won by Dace as he hits the BIG move and falls to the mat, both men are down and then a delayed cover by Night!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

Nooooooooooooooooooo! Mak rolls a shoulder up! Dace puts a hand through his spiky hair, wondering just what it will take to put Francis away. He picks up the Franchise and double underhooks his arms in the set-up for…

 

“Defenestration!” yells Riley. “If this doesn’t do it, nothing will!”

 

Dace prepares to lift the Franchise up – but Mak Francis takes a step with his right foot, planting it, and then he lunges his chickenwinged arms to the right, before swinging his body to the left, twisting and spinning in the double armed hold, like a pendulum, breaking contact with Dace’s left arm. The surprised Night has little time to react, as the self proclaimed Franchise gracefully pirouettes, with his right arm still trapped in between Mak’s bicep and forearm, while Francis reaches over the top with his own right arm and securely pinning the limb to his own body, as he continues to rotate, like a whirling dervish… ending perpendicular to the Hardcore legend. Mak juts his free left arm in between the Night’s legs and rolls to his right…

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…PINNING THE HIGH PRIEST OF HORROCORE’S BACK TO THE MAT!!!

 

 

 

Pete jumps out of his seat and calls the pin fall…”HO—HOLY SHIT! PETERSON ROLL! A PETERSON ROLL OUT OF THE DEFENESTRATION?!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Dace…

 

 

 

 

Well, Dace looks shocked, as Mak hooks his leg and releases his right arm, before cradling his head and clasps his two hands together completing the pin!!! Mak looks to the ref, who, looks like a deer caught in the headlights, before he realizes that he should count, which he does after diving across the mat into position! The crowd counts along, just knowing the match is over…

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Mak tumbles away sure he had the win, but nearly dead, as Dace looks surprised he kicked out himself. Francis knows the match is over. That was his last shot to win and Dace kicked out. Dace stands ready to get Mak beaten body and then suddenly…

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

Mak looks around and the time keeper calls Kivell and Funyon over. Funyon looks upset but makes the announcement anyway.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen… this match has been ruled a time limit draw!”

 

“This is a sham!” yells King.

 

“Sorry folks we are out of time, but that was one hell of a match. What a way to end it… Mak Francis pulled out all the stops, even the move he beat Dace with in the G4 tourney, but tonight neither man was able to win. Goodnight and godbless.”