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“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “please rise for our national anthem.”


The SmarkTron fires up with a video feed of Tom Flesher in his office. The camera zooms in on Allison Onita, on her cell phone, as bizarre techno music plays in the background.


This is a message for Paul Oakenfold...eh...how are you? Its Allison Onita,

Tom Flesher’s assistant, I'm going through the messages, just getting back to

you to let you know that Tom did get the CD's, I've listened to them and I'm

excited and Tom has listened to them and ... he is interested. So, eh, we'll give you a call

back in a couple of days, yeah, so, um, great stuff. We'll talk soon. Thanks, bye.


The music continues as Flesher lifts up a lyrics sheet and begins to read, murmuring Let me just read this.


Nixon's spirit will be with us for the rest of our lives whether your are me or Bill Clinton or you or Kurt Cobain or Bishop Tutu or Keith Richards or Aimee Fisher or Boris Yeltsin's daughter or her finance's sixteen year old beer drunk brother with his braided goatee with his whole life like a thunder cloud right in front of him.


This is not a generational thing; you don't even have to know who Richard Nixon was to be a victim of his ugly Nazi experiments.


He has poisoned our water for ever. Nixon will be remembered as a classic case of a smart man shitting in his own nest, but he also shit in our nest and that was the crime that history will burn on his memory as a brand. By disgracing and degrading the presidency of the United States, by fleeing the White House like a diseased cur, Richard Nixon broke the heart of the American Dream...


United by their hatred for Richard Nixon, the fans stand and cheer as the show’s promo fades in.


“That was… odd,” King says as the feed cuts out.

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The Smartmarks' Wrestling Federation Presents...


(5PM PCT, 8PM EST; check local listings)






Sacred© vs Alan Clark

(LUMBERJACKS: Mak Francis, Toxxic)

No rest for the wicked. The two-time, two-time World Champion and longest-serving SWF member Sacred prevailed at Clusterfuck over Mak Francis, retaining his world championship belt. But now, a SHADOW looms over him, having been seperated from his former stable and the only light at the end of the tunnel being the shine on Landon Maddix's belts, as he eagerly awaits to cash in his Clusterfuck victory for a shot at the biggest belt in the federation. Fortunately for the weary World Champion, the only thing he needs to worry about tonight is a clean match against an eager opponent... and the two men at ringside who are going to make sure it stays that way.

Rules: Standard singles match... but if Sacred or Alan fall to the outside of the ring, Toxxic and Mak are free to do whatever they please. The two lumberjacks may not interfere with the match so long as it remains in the ring. Mak and Toxxic can write matches of their own if they so desire. Sacred's world title is not on the line here.

Word Limit: 5750

Send To: Ace309



Wild and Dangerous© vs Royal Order

What can I say, I love tag matches and I desperately wanted to see the titles defended on any one-off show that I'm booking. Wild and Dangerous are difinitive champions, but Royal Order... well, I'm not so sure, but they've got a pretty cool name. There's no need for contenderships tonight!

Rules: Standard tag team match. Remember the tag ropes.

Word Limit: 5000

Send To: Justice




Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix© vs Sean Davis vs Austin Sly vs Carnage vs Ebony

Maddix said he wanted a goofy cuckoo match for the USJL belt, and well, ask and you shall recieve. The original cool! The new hotness! The best gimmick match across seven different e-feds! The vaunted Mall Brawl makes its glorious return as I make an inglorious departure, as four men and one huge goddamn furry thing DO BIG BATTEL across a hundred store shopping paradise! Why the hell is she here? Because I deem it so! Crass-commercialism meets crushing blows to the head! WHO'S CUSINE SHALL REIGN SUPREME?

Rules: The Mall Brawl should require no introduction, but I shall provide it anyway, just in case. The five participants are set loose on a shopping centre full of evening patrons, seeking out a red balloon with a gold ticket inside. The balloon can be anywhere inside the vacinity of the mall, but will not LEAVE the mall. The ticket inside proclaims whoever takes hold of it as the new SWF USJL champion. Maddix's ICTV belt is NOT on the line. Tower City Center in downtown Cleveland is the venue, if you want to look up floorplans or whatever.

Word Limit: 6000

Send To: chirs3




Spike Jenkins© vs Manson

Honestly, I was pretty much just told to book this match. I'm sure I could write better descriptions if I had a goddamned clue what's been going on the last couple of months, but I guess I can improvise... Manson is an evil celtic dancer with disturbingly tight shorts, having channeled the awesome power of MANSONOSITY into his fleet-footed moves and unbridled passion for the floor. His evil is unequivocal. Spike is a lovable crossdressing New York bohemian with a heart of gold thighs of thunder. Did I hit it close to the mark? Oh well. They go for the CW title here regardless.

Rules: The first man to do five non-consecuitive moves from the top rope onto his opponent is the victor. Springboards and slingshots do not count towards this total.

Word Limit: 4500

Send To: Chuck Woolery



"The Urban Legend" Todd Cortez© vs Danny Dagda

No matter how long I'm gone, I think it's safe to say there's always going to be one sure thing abou the SWF: Any of IL's characters are always, ALWAYS up for a hardcore match.

Rules: Um, hello?

Word Limit: 4500

Send To: 5_moves_of_doom



"The Critic" Scott Pretzler vs Kaine

Nooblet! Veteran! YOU LOVE IT!

Rules: Standard singles match.

Word Limit: 4000

Send To: Chuck Woolery

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“Ladies and gentlemen… the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL!”


The opening notes of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony thunder over the arena as Scott Pretzler appears in the entryway.


“First, from Toronto, Ontario, weighing two hundred twenty-six pounds… “THE CRITIC” SCOTT PRRRREEETTTZZZLLLLEEERRRR!”


As the undefeated Canadian strides proudly down the ramp, the crowd erupts in a chorus of boos.





Scott continues on his way to the ring, and it is clear that he is walking with a slight limp. There are also scars on his back left by Carnage’s barbed-wire baseball bat.


“My God, Pete, would you look at those marks on Pretzler’s back? Just hideous. How that matched could ever have been sanctioned in the first place is beyond me.”


“Well, King,” says Pete, getting defensive, “Pretzler did point out earlier that there will be no permanent scarring. I think he’s going to be just fine.”


“But the principle!”


“He won the match, didn’t he?”


Pretzler enters the ring carefully, then rubs his back and grimaces for dramatic effect. It is clear, though, that he is in pain and is still feeling the effects of the hardcore match last week.


“And his opponent… from Kassel, Germany, weighing one hundred ninety one pounds, being accompanied to the ring by Samuel Dobbson… KAAAAAIIIINNNE!”







The fan favorite bursts from the entry to the sound of Rammstein’s Feur Frei, slapping hands with the fans as he runs down to the ring. Many reach out eagerly in hopes that he will acknowledge them. His brother Samuel follows him and waves as he walks down the ramp.


“Look at these pathetic losers,” says King. “They’re practically falling over each other in an effort to touch this guy. Sorry girls, but I think you’re out of luck – most of you probably weigh twice as much as him!”


“King, there are many attractive female fans of the Smarks Wrestling Federation.”


“I’m talking about those who were born female.”


“Excuse me? Cripes, you’re starting to sound like Riley!”


“Thank you.”


“Anyway, Kaine is quite the popular superstar here in the SWF. His size may make him an underdog, but I daresay he could become a household name in the next few years if he keeps improving at his current rate.”


Kaine bounds onto the apron and vaults over the top rope into the ring. He begins stretching energetically as he sizes up Pretzler, who merely stands there and regards him stoically. The referee signals for the bell.




Pretzler assumes a crouch and advances on Kaine. He lunges, but Kaine is too quick, leaping to the side and rolling out of the way and to his feet. The crowd “Ooooh”s with excitement. Pretzler stands still and extends and arm forward, hoping to initiate a test of strength. Kaine is skeptical. He knows that Pretzler is stronger, but backing down would disappoint his fans. So he accepts the challenge.


“What an idiot!” shouts King as they clasp hands. Pretzler immediately overpowers him, but Kaine soons gains a firm footing and resists.





Sweat pours down the German’s face as he struggles against Pretzler. His knuckles are white with tension. He grits his teeth and pushes harder, but the larger Pretzler still has the advantage. Pretzler redoubles his base and lowers his head, concentrating his power in the shoulders. When their bodies reach a forty-five degree angle, Pretzler snaps his left foot forward and around and kicks Kaine’s leg out from under him.


“He kicked his leg out from under his leg!” King exclaims.


“Ha ha,” says Pete, far from amused.




Kaine lands hard on the canvas, but maintains his grip with both hands. Pretzler lowers his weight downward and pins Kaine to the mat!







Kaine’s shoulder jerks up after only a one count. He kicks Pretzler in the gut with both legs, then kips up and resumes the test of strength. Their arms swivel out and then downward, remaining tense at the sides as both men push against each other with their chests.


“This is just beautiful wrestling from Kaine. Clearly, he wants to go to the mat as little as possible in this match, but you’ve got to admire his skill as a technician.”


“No I don’t,” King retorts flatly. “Kaine has watched his tapes. That doesn’t make him a good technical wrestler.”


With great caution, Pretzler lifts a knee and rams it into Kaine’s stomach; still, Kaine holds fast, refusing to go down. Pretzler begins to rotate his arms upward to increase his leverage, and it seems that he will be triumphant, when…




Scott Pretzler doubles over in agony as Kaine’s foot slams into his family jewels! The crowd goes wild with delight at this tactic!


“Disqualify him!” King is furious. “That should be illegal! And these morons are cheering him for it.”


As Pretzler lands on his knees, Kaine runs off the ropes and scores with a dropkick to the face. Pretzler falls flat on his face, rolls over, and – Smack! – gets caught with another one. He rolls over into the corner and gets to his feet, but Kaine remains on the offensive, wrenching his head and dropping him in a swinging neckbreaker. Pretzler rolls to the outside.


Kaine runs toward the ropes as if going for a tope, then leaps onto the second rope and back-flips off, landing crisply on his feet as the fans leap to theirs.


Pete is impressed. “That was spectacular!”


“…ly pointless,” finishes King. “Unless of course he plans on having his knees replaced with iron plates when he’s twenty-five.”


Kaine runs back toward the ropes and grabs them with the intention of hitting a plancha, but Pretzler is ready. He reaches out and wraps his arms around Kaine’s left leg, then tugs until the German falls on his back and is dragged out of the ring.


“Now that’s smart.”


On the floor, Pretzler immediately rolls Kaine and drives an elbow into the back of his neck. He comes down with another one, and then another, as the referee begins to count them out.






Kaine flails and turns himself over onto his back, hoping to dispel Pretzler with kicks. But the Critic simply comes down hard with another elbow – this time into Kaine’s throat. The German grunts and pain and coughs. Pretzler climbs up onto the ring apron. He looks around, pats his knee, and leaps.




Though padded, the impact of Pretzler’s knee against Kaine’s neck is formidable. He howls in pain. Pretzler, too, has taken damage from the fall, and grabs the apron for assistance as he pulls himself back into the ring.




“That’s certainly not something you’d expect to see from Scott Pretzler,” says Pete. “I mean, we know how he feels about aerial maneuvers.”


“Actually, you’re wrong. Pretzler has nothing against high flying – if it serves a purpose. There’s a difference between a calculated flying knee to the back of the head and that backflip we just saw from Kaine. Or, say, something like a Wildchild tumble.”


“Speaking of the neck, Kaine’s vertebrae must be in incredible pain right now. He’s had neck troubles ever since Spike Jenkins nearly paralyzed him with that ‘I Just Broke Your Neck’ move, and those injuries are sure to flare up after Pretzler’s attacks.”


“Absolutely. Everything Pretzler does, he does for a reason. Never doubt that.”


“When did I ever do that, King?”


Scott Pretzler is now standing in the ring, his hands resting on his knees as he catches his breath. He looks down at Kaine and spits. Samuel Dobson has helped Kaine to his feet and his checking on his neck; Kaine rolls into the ring just before the referee finishes the count. Pretzler instantly moves in for the kill, grabbing the ropes as he stomps on his opponent’s tender neck. When Kaine gets closer to the center of the ring, Pretzler drops down and applies a tight front headlock.


“Pretzler sure does love those restholds,” Pete says sarcastically.


“Restholds? Hardly. Look how he cranks that neck. He is merely adding further damage to the area to prepare Kaine for the Snowflake Clutch and the Tildebang.”


Now firmly in control of the match’s pace, Pretzler stands up, forcing Kaine to get to his feet as well. From this strategic position, he pulls Kaine’s head further in the direction of his own body, trying to stretch the neck beyond its human limits.





Pretzler’s chuckle is not loud enough to be heard above the din of the crowd, but there is no ambiguity in his next gesture: a quick but unmistakable flip of the bird in the audience’s general direction.




His confidence only grows, and he continues adding pressure to the hold as he flashes his trademark smirk. Suddenly, Kaine plants his feet down and ducks back, flipping Pretzler effortlessly over his head in a waterwheel takedown!




He starts to bridge into a pin, then decides against it and flips over, delivering rapid-fire punches to Pretzler’s handsome face. Pretzler rolls over and shoots at his legs, successfully taking him down. With Kaine on his back, Pretzler floats over and applies a grounded half-nelson, then digs his feet into the mat as he attempts to roll Kaine over and trap him in a pinning position. Kaine fights, leaning in the other direction, but eventually succumbs. Pretzler covers him with his full weight.

























Kaine jerks his body up and is successful at escaping the three-count. The hold is still locked in, though, and this time Pretzler pushes down with even more force, again resulting in a pin.
























THR- NO!!!


Once again, Kaine powers out at the last second. And again, the relentless Pretzler forces his shoulders to the mat.
































This is not working. So Pretzler once again reverts to his tried-and-true formula, transitioning into a front facelock. But instead of locking in a tighter hold, he drapes Kaine’s arm across his shoulder and fires off a snap suplex! Kaine slams into the mat, Pretzler immediately going for the pin once more.














This time, he only nets a one-count. Frustrated, he drags Kaine to his feet – and his own feet are dislodged from the mat as Kaine collides with a low dropkick! Kaine homes in with two stiff martial-arts kicks to the head, then picks up Pretzler and drops him in a scoop slam.


Pretzler’s body is now in perfect alignment with the corner post!


“He’s going up!” booms Pete excitedly.


With his brother Samuel cheering him on, Stephen Dobbson ascends the turnbuckle. His back is facing the ring. He looks back to make sure that Pretzler is down, then leaps into the air with a beautifully executed…










As Kaine comes down with the moonsault press, Pretzler casually raises his knees off the canvas. They are driven, at impact, deep into Kaine’s chest, sending fiery pain shooting through his ribs. He rolls off awkwardly and curls into a fetal position.


Slowly, ever so slowly, Pretzler drags himself across the mat and drapes himself across Kaine for the cover.






































There simply wasn’t enough force behind Pretzler’s cover. He climbs to his feet and starts to tug on Kaine, but soon realizes that he doesn’t have the strength and instead clamps on another front headlock. He squeezes, burying his right bicep in the German’s already-weak neck. Kaine reaches for the ropes, but they are too far away, so he instead rises to his feet and tries to break the hold with punches. He knows that if he allows Pretzler to ground him, the match will be lost.


But Pretzler knows this too. He also knows that he no longer has the leverage to strengthen the headlock, so he twists Kaine’s body around by his neck until the two are back to back, the drops to the mat.


“Shoulder neckbreaker!” Pete is alarmed. “Kaine is in serious trouble.”


“You’re damned right he is. Now watch this.”


With as much quickness as he can muster, Pretzler rotates so that he is facing the back of the seated foe. He reaches down and grasps each opposite arm, yanking them up into a cross position.



“Here it comes, Pete! If he locks this in, Kaine is done. Finished.”



Kaine, however, will take no chances. Before the Clutch can be secured, he twists his body rapidly around while taking hold of Pretzler’s wrists. He stands up and is now face-to-face with Pretzler, their arms twisted and locked together. Then, before Pretzler can think of a counter, he swoops his arms over Pretzler’s head and slips behind him.


Pretzler falls on tailbone and is now set to be the recipient of his own Snowflake Clutch!




“How humiliating this would be,” says Pete. “And how sweet!”


The excitement is short-lived, however.


For the first time, a look of true fury and anger passes across Pretzler’s face. He thrashes violently, then bridges up and nearly crabwalks over to the ropes, wrapping his legs around the bottom one as tightly as possibly. The referee signals for a break. As soon as Kaine lets go, Pretzler scrambles to his feet. He nearly doubles over as he charges, bashing Kaine in the face with an elbow. Another charge, another elbow. Kaine is reeling. Pretzler runs off the ropes, bounces back, swings his arm forward…


…and sends Kaine head-over-heels with a THUNDEROUS lariat!


“Good God,” gasps Pete, “he landed right on his head!”


It seems only natural that he will now attempt a pinfall. But he does not. Instead, he yanks Kaine to his feet, bends him over, lifts him up, and whips him down to the mat with an arena-shaking powerbomb! The brunt of the move is taken by Kaine’s neck and shoulders. And again, Pretzler is not satisfied with going for a pinfall. He pulls Kaine up into a sitting position with both feet, then walks around and drops a knee on the back of his neck. He squeezes the wrists, twists the arms, and with no resistance whatsoever, flips Kaine over and straddles his back.




The Snowflake Clutch is locked in!









The ref leans over on one knee. “Do you submit?”









Pretzler wrenches back on the hold with all of his strength.




“Do you subm– “

















"Well," says King, "that was quick."




The match is over.




Pretzler has won.




But he does not let go.




He continues to tighten the lethal submission hold, and the air is rent by Kaine’s agonized screams. But he ignores them. He applies more and more pressure. Kaine’s neck…



“Somebody stop this!” Pete shouts. “Get security out here.”



The security team rushes to the ring. They do all that they can to pry Pretzler away, but he holds fast. He will not let go. Samuel rushes to the ring, almost in tears, and begins pounding on his back.


Finally, the men are separated. Pretzler falls back into the arms of the guards, his chest heaving. His calm countenance returns as the medical staff arrives and delicately loads Stephen Dobbson onto a stretcher.



They secure the neck brace and carry the stretcher up the ramp.

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“Tearing Everybody Down” by Anti-Flag welcomes us back to Lockdown, as the anthem of the unloved Danny Dagda is already in progress, as is his stroll to the ring.


“Weclome back fans! We’re ready to get underway with the first of four title matches tonight, as Danny Dagda is set to challenge for the Hardcore Championship!”


“In the hardcore atmosphere, anything is possible, because you can do whatever it takes to win, no questions asked. Nothing can hold you back. However, this guy can’t get too cocky, because he’s dealing with a man who took out Dace Night and Spike Jenkins in impressive fashion recently.”


Dagda circles ringside, jawjacking with the fans as Funyon bellows out his intro.


“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for the SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP! About to enter the ring, he hails from Newark, New Jersey, and weighs in tonight at two hundred, seventy five pounds…DAAAANNNNYYYYY DAAAAGGGDAAAAAAA!”


Dagda throws his arms up and poses like a Greek God, simply shrugging off the booing he receives for his brash attitude. Dagda then swipes Funyon’s chair from ringside and takes it into the ring with him, sitting beside the announcer and crossing his arms, waiting for his opponent to arrive!


“What was that you were saying about getting too cocky, King?”


“Meh, kids these days just don’t wanna listen.”






As the lights dim, the fans jump to their feet, eyeing the entrance ramp in anticipation of their Hardcore Hero’s arrival. As the popular hip hop track from Fabolous continues to play, pyro bursts from the entrance stage, as Cortez bursts out of the back at the same time, jumping out to the stage and pumping his fists like mad! Cortez then jogs down to the ring, stopping at ringside to kiss his beloved cross and remove his bulletproof vest. The Urban Legend then gets up on the apron and raises his Hardcore Title up high for all to see, drawing a loud pre-match pop from the fans…but Dagda is unimpressed and comes charging with the chair! Cortez leaps down to ringside, dodging the shot, and yanks Dagda out of the ring, prying the chair from his grasp and jabbing it into his ribs before slamming it down across his back! The Jersey boy staggers away, favoring his back, but Cortez swings him around and sends him towards the guardrail…reversed…and Cortez swings around the ringpost, leaping onto the apron and then up to the top rope before coming down onto Dagda with a flip dive!


“What quickness by Cortez!”

Todd gets up and takes a moment to showboat, mocking Dagda’s earlier pose but getting a much more favorable response. Cortez then pulls his foe up from the floor and rolls him into the ring, then getting on the apron and again to the top rope, eyeing Dagda as he recovers, and then surprising him with a high crossbody!






“Danny’s got a definite strength advantage here in the physical sense, but he’s going to have to watch out for the hardcore innovations of Todd Cortez!”


Cortez gets up and moves for Dagda, but Danny powers up and runs him into the corner, ramming a shoulder into his stomach in the process! Danny follows up with a pair of shoulderblocks, then slaps the taste out of Cortez’s mouth before dragging him out of the corner…AND CATCHES A SWIFT KICK TO THE NUTS!






“Nothing, I was just having Monster Squad flashbacks.”


The fans roar, as Cortez goes low, exploiting the weakness of males the world round, and then follows up with an inverted atomic drop, adding to Dagda’s discomfort! Cortez then hooks him by the waist and tucks his own head, carrying Dagda over with a Northern Lights Suplex for a pin attempt!




TW-DAGDA POWERS UP! The cocky youngster keeps his hands locked around the waist of Todd, rotating until he’s standing with Cortez placed in a headscissors, and lifts the Urban Legend up…NO! Cortez kicks his legs, bringing his weight back so that he falls back to his feet, and carries Dagda over with a back bodydrop! Todd then runs the ropes, but as he approaches Dagda Danny bursts upward and cracks Todd across the sternum with a hard lariat! Cortez goes down, having had the wind knocked out of him, and Danny quickly begins to put the boots to his rival. Danny then yanks Cortez up by his right arm, holding him by the wrist with his left hand as he pulls Cortez in towards him, cracking him across the chest with a blistering chop! Cortez cringes, but Dagda pulls him in again, and again cracks him with an open hand, the loud smacking sound surging through the Gund Arena! Dagda then sends Cortez into the corner and watches as Todd collides with the turnbuckles, then gets a running start towards his foe and crushes him in there with a corner lariat, knocking the wind out of him yet again! Dagda then drags Cortez out of the corner and strips him of his trademark gray wifebeater, ripping it off of his back…and then wrapping it around his neck!


“Dagda’s choking out the champion!”


Cortez tries to fight back, but Dagda forces him down to his knees, even pressing his own foot in Todd’s back to push him into the choke! Dagda then drags his foe around the mat, most likely giving him a bad case of ruguburn by doing so, as he continues to block Todd’s air supply. Todd’s fight grows weaker, as it appears Dagda’s tactics are having the desired effect on the champion, and as he leans over to lightly slap the face of Cortez, telling him to get up in mocking fashion…CORTEZ BRINGS HIS LEG UP AND KICKS HIM IN THE HEAD! Dagda stays doubled over, holding the top of his head which was just cracked by the instep of Todd’s foot…and then finds himself looking up at the lights, as Cortez gets up and swings his leg out to sweep Danny off his feet! Cortez then hits the ropes, coming off with a kneedrop that lands right above the bridge of Dagda’s nose, and rolls through with it, springing up to the middle rope and then backflipping, crashing down onto Dagda with a beautiful quebrada! Cortez then gets up and hits a standing legdrop to make it a trifecta…and then ANOTHER…and then a third legdrop, making that five moves altogether that have incapacitated Danny Dagda!








Referee Sexton Hardcastle’s hand did not hit the mat that final time, as Danny rolled a shoulder just before the three count. Cortez pulls Dagda up, whipping the weary one into the corner and then charging him, leaping up and going for a monkey flip out of the corner…but finds himself dropped over the ropes! Cortez clings to the top rope and lands with his feet on the apron, as Dagda tries to walk out of the corner…and gets jolted by Cortez, who pulls his head back and shoves him back to the canvas! Cortez then climbs up onto the ropes, measuring Dagda up during his recovery and then leaps over his back, cradling him with a sunset flip from the top!




T-NO! Danny throws a shoulder up!


“This Dagda kid’s impressive. Cortez is unloading the arsenal on him, but can’t seem to keep him on the mat for more than two seconds at a time.”


Both men roll to their feet, and Cortez motions for his foe once again, but as he moves within reaching distance, Dagda jabs him in the eye with his thumb, and then hurls him over the top rope…NO! Cortez skins the cat, but Dagda sees it coming, and starts clubbing on Cortez’s back, weakening him enough to get him to release his grip on the ropes, and pulls him away by his waist, preparing him for a German…NO! Cortez fires back with elbows, and then spins around into a rear waistlock of his own, but Dagda drops to his knees and snapmares him over! Danny then stands up and grabs Todd by the waistband of his pants, yanking him to his feet and then hurling him over the top rope to the floor!


“Air Cortez has just landed in Cleveland!”


“Har har.”


“Like your jokes are any better. But give Dagda some credit…he knows he’s not the kind of guy who can chain wrestle with Cortez. By getting him out of the ring, that’ll swing things in his favor.”


“Yeah, maybe.”


Dagda hops through the ropes and down to the floor, as the fans in the first few rows of the Gund Arena stumble over one another and try to get in camera view. Danny takes Cortez and sends him into the guardail, watching with joy as the Urban Legend crashes and slides down onto his ass. Dagda looks out to the crowd and wipes his brow, as if to say “no sweat” before turning towards Funyon and waving him on!?


“What does he want him for?”


Funyon is as perplexed as our announcers, but gets up and walks towards Dagda, only for Danny to shout “the mic” and order him back! Funyon picks up his microphone, pointing to it and getting a nod of approval from the New Jersey native, and then walks over to Danny, who snags it from his grasp, then shoves Funyon down! The Gund Arena fills up with the booing of it’s patrons, as Dagda strolls over to Cortez and pounds the mic into his forehead, breaking up his recovery!


“Todd Cortez, I want you to tell all these people here tonight what is already obvious. You tell them right now that Danny Dagda is better than you!”


The booing continues, as a weary Cortez stays held in Dagda’s grasp, and pulls the mic towards him.






Cortez reels back, falling back into the guardrail, as Dagda busts him over the forehead with the mic again!


“C’mon Cortez, make this easy on yourself. Tell them that Danny Dagda is what hardcore is all about!”






Cortez reels from another shot, and now Dagda is growing infuriated.






The fans roar, as Cortez pulls the mic away from Dagda, and then forces him to the floor with a double leg takedown! Todd then mounts the shoulders and starts wailing away, his taped fists drilling into the sides of Dagda’s face! Danny tries to cover up, but it only takes a few moments for the area around his left eye to start turning a deep shade of purple, as Cortez hammers him repeatedly! The white tape used to cover Todd’s wrists and fists soon becomes stained with red, as Dagda is now dripping blood from his nose and above the left eye! Cortez then drags Danny up and starts bringing his knee into his ribs, one after another repeatedly jamming him in the ribcage, before finally scooping Dagda off his feet and dropping him on his knee with a gutbuster! As Danny rolls around on the floor, Cortez goes and retrieves the mic, having just one thing to say before returning it to Funyon.


“I think it’s time that Cleveland saw Todd Cortez get hardcore on Danny’s ass!”


The crowd roars, and Todd tosses the mic back to Funyon, as Cortez starts digging around under the ring, first pulling out a fire extinguisher and holding it up to a big pop! Cortez holds the nozzle in one hand, setting up to spray Danny with the contents, but then changes his mind, raising the extinguisher above his head…AND DROPPING IT DOWN INTO DANNY’S RIBCAGE!


“It would appear Cortez put the fire in his belly out!”


“And you mock my jokes. Pssh.”


Cortez fumes, because how dare someone like Danny Dagda think they can beat him at his own game? Cortez takes the punk from the Soprano State and rolls him into the ring, with a chair being slid in just after him…and a table being pulled out after that! Cortez slides the table in as well, and then returns to the confines of the squared circle, noticing his foe pulling himself up in the corner…and goes running in, crushing him with a corner splash! Cortez then pulls him away from the corner, spinning him around and grabbing him by the head before running up the ropes and spinning around with a Tornado…WAIT…Cortez lands on his feet, choosing not to drop Dagda with a DDT, but rather pull him up and shove him into the corner, then use a running knee to the ribs! Dagda doubles over, and NOW Cortez grabs him by the head and hits the Tornado DDT, the head-spike drawing a huge cheer from the fans!








“See that Pete? Still not a three. Cortez can’t afford to get too cute with Dagda tonight, especially with that belt on the line!”


Cortez pulls Danny off the mat, but just as he does Dagda throws an arm between his legs, incapacitating Todd with a low blow! As Cortez reels, the bloodied bruiser stands up and big boots Cortez, kicking him flush in the nose and knocking him to the mat! Dagda nearly falls over as he delivers the move, but is able to keep his balance, turning to the weaponry left laying in the ring as the two men did battle. Dagda moves the chair out of the way and goes straight for the table, setting it up and then turning to see Cortez getting to his feet…so he delivers a lariat to the back of the head to keep control! Danny then drags Cortez over towards the table, holding him upright and grabbing him by the throat to lift him for a chokeslam…but Cortez brings the point of his elbow down into the top of Danny’s head! Dagda releases, and agonizes over the brutal shot, while Cortez quickly wraps him up in a front facelock and attempts to snap him over for a suplex…but can’t! Todd struggles, pounding on the back, but Danny manages to wrap his arm around Todd’s leg, and carries him up onto his shoulders…NO! Cortez slips free, and paces himself…SUPERKICK AS DANNY TURNS…NO! CAUGHT AND SPUN AROUND…INTO A RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX THROUGH THE TABLE!


“Karma, baby! Now tonight Cortez can be the one pulling splinters out of his ass!”


Todd rolls around in pain, as Dagda sits up, wiping the blood from his eyes to stop his vision from being blocked. He looks over his shoulder and see Cortez down, so he crawls through the shrapnel and covers, hooking the leg of the champion as Hardcastle comes down for the count.








“You were saying, King?”


“I said he’d be pulling splinters out of his ass. I didn’t say he’d be losing!”


Dagda looks furious, expecting to go home with the gold after that last move. He stands up and kicks the wood away, but stops for a moment to pick up one pice, and pries the metallic table leg piece off of it! Danny gets a gleam in his eye as he stares at the metal support beam in his hands, and pulls Cortez up, positioning himself behind him and then pulling the leg into his throat!

“He’s trying to choke him out again!”


“Well, now would be the time to do it!”


Cortez struggles as much as he can, but Danny is not as worn out as the straight edge star of Martial Law. Eventually, the struggle lessens, as Cortez’s body grows limp, falling to both knees, and that’s when Danny pulls away and lets him flop to the mat, rolling him onto his back.








“He was playing possum!”








The crowd bellows out a collective “OH!”, shocked that Cortez wasn’t able to keep Danny down for the count. Both men get to their feet, and Danny fires off a punch that staggers Cortez, but doesn’t knock him down…and Cortez gives him a taste of his own medicine, firing off a right hand that connects and sends Danny stumbling! Danny shrugs it off, working off adrenaline right now, and punches again, but once again Cortez absorbs the blow, then responds with one of his own! Frustrated, Danny then moves in and shoves Cortez down, standing over him and taunting him before reaching down and wrapping both hands around his throat, jerking him from the canvas up onto his feet, and then plants a boot in his stomach, lifting him up onto one shoulder…


“Is he going for it? Could we see the Deflation?”


Dagda holds Cortez, but the Urban Legend uses his size disadvantage to his advantage, sliding out of the grip of Danny Dagda and running the ropes, with Dagda turning at the wrong time.




Dagda falls down to one knee, huffing and puffing but still not down and out. Cortez backs himself into the ropes again, charging faster this time and kicking his leg up…




But Dagda won’t topple over! He falls off to the side, but grabs the ropes and pulls himself right back up, moving towards Cortez as Todd backs into the ropes again, coming off with #3, but this time Dagda ducks, however Cortez stops short and looks back, firing his right leg up to connect with the back of Danny’s head, cracking him across the cranium with a powerful superkick! Dagda falls forward, this one broken up by the ropes, as he falls and bounces up from the top rope, his body spinning back around, but Cortez is no longer in front of him, having now run to the ropes that run alongside his foe…




“That brutal pounce took Dagda down, and his ribs have probably become a liquid by now!”


Cortez perches himself on all fours, trying to catch his breath, as he’s exerted a lot of energy in just the last few moments. He crawls over to Danny, who is in the fetal position, favoring those ribs and unable to fight off the pin attempt!








“HOW did he kick out of that?”


“Stamina. Endurance. The fact that Cortez didn’t put all his power into it. Choose one, Pete.”


Dagda himself is probably surprised he’s been able to survive this long, but he grasps the ropes and uses them to pull himself up off the canvas while Cortez goes to get the chair he brought into the ring what seems like eons ago. Dagda gets to his feet, and turns around to see Cortez with the chair…and is even more shocked when Cortez throws the chair to him! Dagda catches it, but Cortez quickly sweep kicks his larger rival, causing him to fall on his back…THEN JUMPS DOWN ONTO DAGDA, HIS FULL WEIGHT CRASHING DOWN ONTO THE CHAIR WITH A SENTON DROP! Dagda begins coughing up blood, the effects of so many shots to the ribs having done a number on his insides. Ever innovative, Cortez goes and gets his torn, sweaty wifebeater that Dagda used on him earlier in the match…and stuffs it into his mouth, gagging him and blocking the blood from pouring out!


“What the…is he trying to drown him in his own blood?”


“I just think he doesn’t want to get any on him.”


Cortez then drags Dagda towards the ropes, and goes to the turnbuckles and climbs, getting to the top rope and turning around to make sure Danny is staying in place before leaping off, rotating 450 degrees through the air as flashbulbs light up the arena, all of them catching Cortez float through the air…




“Good LORD that had to hurt!”


Dagda kicks his legs, his agony muffled by the wifebeater, as Cortez lays across him and pulls a leg up, holding him down in place as Hardcastle and the crowd make their counts.










Once victory is his, Cortez stands up and rips the wifebeater out of Dagda’s mouth, allowing a pool of blood to drip out and stain the canvas. Cortez then throws the shirt down onto the head of Dagda and raises his arms up, one arm being held up by Hardcastle to signify him as the victor.


“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, and STILL SWF Hardcore Champion…The URBAN LEGEND, TODDDD CORRRTEZZZZ!”


“Breathe” plays in celebration, and that is something Dagda won’t be doing so easily in the next few days, as Cortez did a wonderful job of working over the ribcage. The Urban Legend makes a quick exit, slapping some hands on the way up the ramp, and visibly spent from having to do so much to take out the persistent challenge of one Danny Dagda.


“Maybe not as breathtaking as a Riot Act Plus off the apron through a table, but still, a simply brutal affair from Cortez and Daga.”


“You’re still raving about that, aren’t you? Well Pete, Brutality is the name of the game, especially when you’re fighting over something called a Hardcore Title. Cortez didn’t have the time to get flashy tonight, but Danny Dagda wound up with his shoulders on the canvas for three seconds, and once again the Urban Legend makes his mark on an SWF broadcast.”


“That’s not even the half of this broadcast, because we’ve got more to come, including the infamous Mall Brawl where Landon Maddix will defend his USJL Title, and up next, a No Gravity match for the Cruiserweight Title! We’re not done yet so don’t you dare go away, we’re coming right back with No Gravity after this!”

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Backstage, in the Wild and Dangerous locker room, Wildchild paces the floor. His tag partner, Johnny Dangerous, has yet to be seen at Lockdown, and a Tag Team Championship title defense was scheduled for later on.


“Where da’ hell could he be,” mutters Wildchild as he finally has a seat on the plush sofa, just as a knock comes from the door.


Knock! Knock!


The Bahama Bomber snaps his attention towards the door and stands to his feet as the door swivels open, and stage manager Ted Flink peers through the opening.


“Mr. LeCroix,” he says, “what’s the word on Dangerous? If he isn’t here you’ll have to find a substitute partner or forfeit.”


“That won’t be necessary,” a voice calls from behind Flink, the voice of the Barracuda. From inside the room, Wildchild breaks a smile of relief after recognizing the voice of his tag partner. “I’m here,” reiterates Johnny, pushing past Flink into the room, and then he turns back to the stage manager “now if you’ll excuse us.”


Johnny closes the door then drops his gear bag onto the floor, unzips it and pulls out the golden Tag Team Championship as Wildchild just stands there watching, before finally clearing his throat loudly.


“Hello,” replies Johnny, looking up at Wildchild. “Sorry I’m late, I’ve just had a lot of things running through my mind lately and I got sidetracked.”


“Do you want ta’ talk about it?” ask the Bahaman, “I mean… you looked pretty depressed on Storm.”


“What’s there to say, really? I try and I try, but it doesn’t seem to be clicking.” Johnny shrugs his shoulders then tosses his Wild and Dangerous uniform over his shoulder and stands. “Two matches in a row, Nic, I had two chances for the World Heavyweight Championship and I blew them both. So I guess I’m just a little frustrated is all.”


“Alright,” replies Wildchild, nodding his head. “Maybe you’re jus’ trying to hard, Johnny. You can get back there some day, and one day I know you will, but maybe you should jus’ let the title come to you instead of trying ta’ go to it – Don’ force it.”


Johnny just looks pack at Wildchild, mulling over his words for a moment. “Maybe,” he says, “maybe.”


“I jus’ need ta’ know one ting’ for now dough’,” says Wildchild. Johnny stops and looks back at him. “I need to know dat’ I got Johnny Dangerous in dat’ ring with me tonight, defendin’ these Tag Team belts as a team.” holding his belt up, Wildchild pauses for a moment. “If your mind is som’where else…we could be in a world of trouble, Johnny.”


“Don’t worry, Nic,” replies the Barracuda. “If there is one thing I will always love – that’s being the Tag Team Champion, you’ll have my full attention in the ring.” he starts to walk towards the showers, but stops and looks back at Wildchild. “I’ve been looking for a way to relieve some tensions; taking down the Royal Order once more should do just fine.”


Wildchild nods as his partner heads off to go change and we…










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We return to Lockdown, with the Cleveland crowd in typically rampant mood as the camera pans through the cheap-seats. Various signs around the arena are picked out, mostly the pro-Wild and Dangerous and Landon Maddix variety.


"Welcome back to SWF Lockdown!" The Suicide King calls, as the camera switches to him, "We're moments away from the No Gravity match for the SWF Cruiserweight Title here in Cleveland, which will pit Revolution Zero member and the LONGEST reigning SWF Cruiserweight Champion in HISTORY, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins, against “Hate Personified” Manson.”


“The rules are simple in a No Gravity Match. You cannot win by pinfall or submission. The only way to win the match is to hit your opponent with FIVE non-consecutive top rope maneuvers. Whoever can do that, will be named the victor and the SWF Cruiserweight Champion!”


“I’m trying to figure out who this stipulation is suppose to help. I have never seen Manson go to the top rope…and Spike has an injured neck after Todd Cortez’s Riot Act PLUS off the apron through the table on Storm!”


“That looked like it hurt, didn’t it?”


“Don’t make fun, Pete.”


The camera cuts away from the two bickering announcers into the center of the ring, where Funyon holds a microphone, ready for the entrances.


“The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a NO GRAVITY MATCH for the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP! First, making his way to the ring, THE CHALLENGER!!”


The house lights dim and multi-colored strobes flash as Mastodon's "Crusher Destroyer" blasts from the speakers. Manson emerges from the back to a pop from the crowd and stomps straight down the ramp.


“Coming to the ring, weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Thirty Pounds! Hailing from Denver, Colorado…he is “Hate Personified”…he IS MANSON!!!!!!!!!!!”


He rolls into the ring and upon standing, goes straight over to his corner.


“The crowd is rallying behind Manson tonight!” exclaims Pete, “They must really want to see him beat the crap out of Spike Jenkins!”


“I think that’s what his game plan is. To beat the crap out of Jenkins and leave him prone on the mat for the top rope moves. If I was Manson, that’s what I would do.” Adds King.




The sound of a needle scratching over vinyl comes over the speakers, and then…




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!




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.




“From Hollywood, California, weighing two hundred and twenty-five pounds, he is the LONGEST REIGNING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!! 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.


“What kind of shape is Spike in after that Riot Act PLUS off the apron through a table from Todd Cortez earlier this week?” questions Pete.


”I am going to assume that it hurts like a bitch,” King adds calmly.


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. Spike enters the center of the ring, shooing Manson back into a corner. He drops down to one knee, clutching his neck, but quickly going back to his entrance and places one arm on his knee and the other hanging. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style.


“When you look at Spike Jenkins, the first thing you think is SUPERSTAR!”


“I think LOSER!” Pete jokes.


“You are just jealous.”


‘Hollywood’ slowly unfastens the title from his waist, handing it to the referee of the match who folds it up, shows it to Manson and holds it in the air for the crowd to see. The title is handed to a crewmember and is placed in the safe keeping of the bell ringer. The referee checks both Manson and Spike for weapons, and when he deems them both acceptable, signals for the bell.






The SWF scoreboard lights up with “HSJ: 0; Manson: 0” as the crowd anticipates the high flying and technical masterwork that is the SWF Cruiserweight Division.


“Spike is very much against the odds in this match. His neck is hurt and Manson is a brawler who will take it to him every chance he gets,” Pete brings up, “I hope Spike has a good game plan.”


“He is a member of Revolution Zero! Of course he has a good game plan!”


Both men start off the match by circling around the ring, eyeing the other one up and down. They both enter the center of the ring, arms held out and slapping each other’s hands away to feel the other one out. Manson bursts down to the mat, pulling Spike’s leg out from under him with a single leg takedown and bursting back up to his feet. Manson tries to apply pressure, but Spike quickly uses his strong legs to push him off and climb up to his feet.


“Spike with the martial arts background, able to use his strong legs to keep Manson back.”


They both enter the center of the ring again and circle around. Once again, Manson goes in first, locking in a collar-elbow tie up. Spike is able to free his left arm and swing it over Manson’s right arm, pulling it into an arm wringer. Manson struggles for a second, but drops down to the mat with a forward roll. He lies on the mat, wraps his legs around Spike’s left and brings him down with an inverted drop toehold. They both try to fight for control, but Manson spins across Spike’s back into a front face lock.


“Manson applying pressure to the neck early in the match! He knows his opponents weakness and he is going for it.”


Spike uses his hands to break apart the lock that Manson has and twists out of it, locking in a hammerlock in the process. Spike climbs to his feet, but quickly drops down, driving a knee into the arm of Manson. Manson rolls to a sitting position and climbs to his feet, but Spike keeps the hammerlock intact. Spike motions his way out of the hammerlock, locking his hands around the neck of Manson and spinning in front of him into a cravate and wrenches on the neck.


“Spike is the master of chain wrestling in the SWF! I think that’s why he is the Cruiserweight champion…because he suckers his opponents into going to the mat with him.”


“You may have a good point there, King.”


Manson breaks Spike’s hands apart and spins around into an arm wringer. Spike pulls at his shoulder, but Manson just continues with the pressure. Instead of doing a fancy roll or flip out of it, Spike just pulls Manson out of the center of the ring and places one leg over the bottom rope.


“Spike going to the rope to break the arm wringer. He usually does a fancy reversal, but he obviously can’t tonight with that injured neck.”


The referee begins to push Manson back as he breaks the hold clean. Manson slowly backs into the center of the ring, as Spike regains his composure. Spike meets Manson back in the center of the ring and again Manson goes in first with a collar-elbow tie up and immediately into a side headlock. Spike responds with several forearms to the rib cage and pulls Manson back towards the ropes. He pushes Manson into the ropes and whips him off. Manson hits the ropes and comes back with a shoulder block that sends Spike to the mat. Manson charges off the ropes, springs off them and bounces back. Spike drops down in front of him, causing Manson to leap over him and continue into the ropes. Spike gets to his feet and leapfrogs as Manson comes off the ropes and goes under him. Spike turns around…only to be pulled to the mat with an arm drag! Both jump to their feet and Spike charges into another arm drag! Both up again and Manson with another arm drag! But this time, Manson keeps a hold on Spike’s arm with an arm bar. Spike tries to struggle to his feet, but Manson places his knee on the skull of Jenkins and pushes his neck down.


“Manson with three deep arm drags and driving the knee into the neck of Jenkins.”


Spike rolls backwards onto his feet and gets to a standing position. He pushes Manson backwards into the ropes, but Manson rubs his wrist against the face of Jenkins, stunning him. Manson turns Spike into the ropes and Irish whips him across the ring. Spike hits the ropes and comes charging back into the ready arms of Manson for a hip toss…but Spike flips over and lands on his feet…and quickly pulls Manson down with an arm drag! Both men get to their feet and Manson swings a wild right, which Spike ducks underneath. He hooks both of Manson’s arms back, as if going for a backslide, but Manson breaks free. He turns around, only to be taken over with an arm drag by the Champion!


“Nicely done arm drags by the Cruiserweight champion. He is one of the top talents in the SWF and has a bright future in front of him.”


“He would have a bright future if he wasn’t aligned with Toxxic and Revolution Zero!”


Spike keeps Manson down with an arm bar…that is quickly put to an end when Manson counters with a head scissors. Spike rolls over onto his head/knees and Manson into a sitting position. Spike tries to pull himself out, but Manson keeps the hold on tight and keeps his elbows on the back of Jenkins. Spike pulls himself up into a headstand…and leaps out of the head scissors. Spike grabs his neck in pain, but not before kicking Manson in the face, sending his opponent down to the mat in a crumble.


“Spike’s neck nearly getting the better of him there. He was just barely able to get out of that head scissors.”


Spike signals for the turnbuckle, to the displeasure of the fans. Spike walks into the corner, stepping out onto the apron, and slowly descends to the top rope.


“Jenkins is ready to take the lead one-nothing in this No Gravity Match!”


Spike makes it to the top rope, ready to fly off against the challenger…who pops up to his feet. Manson charges into the corner, grabs Spike by the hair, and begins chopping away on the neck!


“Manson with the comeback!”


Manson pulls himself up to the middle rope and climbs his way up to the top rope. He pulls Spike up into a standing position as well, and lays a couple of forearms into his back. He locks Spike’s head in a front face lock and hooks the arm. He grabs Spike’s tights…and lifts…









The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd cheers.



“HSJ: 0

Manson: 1”


“Manson is four top rope moves away from becoming the Cruiserweight Champion!”


“It’s not fair!” shouts King, “Spike should not be wrestling with an injured neck!”


“Oh jeez, stop it King.”


Spike lies on the mat, clutching his neck and convulsing from the impact. Manson holds his back as he climbs to his feet. He watches as Spike tries to roll out of the ring. He charges over towards the champion and puts a well-placed boot into the back of Jenkins as he gets under the bottom rope.


“Spike needs to rest! Give him some time!”


Spike rolls to the floor and stumbles onto the guardrail to hold him up. He holds his hands up and signals for a “time out,” which the crowd responds with jeers.




“Spike is the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion IN HISTORY! If he calls for a time out, you best give it to him!” cries King.


The crowd suddenly turns into an uproar that surprises the champion. He turns back towards the ring to see where his opponent is…







“WHAT THE HELL?!?!?” shouts King.


The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd cheers.



“HSJ: 0

Manson: 2”


“You can’t hit two top ropes consecutively! That shouldn’t count!”


“Manson…DID kick Spike when Spike rolled out of the ring. Therefore, it does count.”


Both men fall to the floor. Manson quickly climbs up to his feet, but has trouble standing…as he figures out he landed wrong when he came off the top rope and seems to have twisted his left knee. He stumbles over to Spike, grabs him by the hair and pulls him up to his feet. He drags him towards the ring and slides him underneath the bottom rope, where he follows behind. Spike climbs to his feet, but Manson grabs him by the hair again and pulls him towards the corner. Manson climbs to a seated position on the top rope and locks Spike in a front face lock.


“Manson seems to be going for some kind of tornado DDT, but to get the point, he has to be on the top rope,” notes Pete.


As if he heard the Longdogger himself, Manson steps up from the middle rope to the top rope. He pushes off the top rope, trying to angle himself with Spike and turning in the air, looking for a Tornado DDT…but Spike simply shoves him off!


“Spike blocks the tornado DDT!” shouts King, “Going to the top rope took some of the pressure off the front face lock, allowing Spike to break the hold!”


Manson lands on his feet, but drops down to a knee as he apparently hurt his left leg again. Spike sees this and as soon as Manson gets to his feet, he charges at the challenger and drives his boots into the left knee! The impact sends Manson flipping forward and clutching his knee.


“Basement dropkick to the knee! Spike sees the injury and is going straight for it, much like Manson was with the neck.”


Spike quickly gets to his feet and hovers over the fallen challenger. He begins placing boots to the knee that Manson tries to block, but fails miserably. Spike grabs the leg, pulling it up and driving down an elbow into it. He gets up and does it again! He gets up and does it again for a third time! Spike climbs to his feet and poses as his opponent clutches his knee and rolls around in agony.


“Spike is like a shark that smells blood in the water! He is trying to destroy that knee!”


Spike calmly walks into the corner, turns his back to the audience and pulls himself up to a seated position on the top rope. Manson lies on the mat below, trying to shake the pain out of his knee. Spike mocks the crowd as he climbs to the top rope and leaps off…driving both his boots into the side of the knee of Manson!


“Double Stomp off the top rope to Manson’s bad knee!”


The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd jeers.



“HSJ: 1

Manson: 2”


“Spike is still down by one point, but to win you need five! It doesn’t look like Manson will be getting to the top rope anytime soon!”


Spike walks around the ring with a cocky smirk on his face. The crowd roars in disapproval as Spike simply lifts his arms up into an X. Manson rolls around the ring, screaming in pain as the referee checks on him.


“The referee may have to end the match if Manson can’t continue.”


Spike walks back over to Manson, pushing the referee out of the way. He reaches down, grabbing Manson by the hair and pulling him to his feet. He grabs Manson and turns him upside down for a body slam…but carries him over to the corner. He leans Manson against the turnbuckles and ties his legs underneath the turnbuckle.


“Manson stuck upside down in a tree of woe! This is not good!”


“How is it not good? How can Spike do a top rope maneuver NOW?” asks King.


With Manson hanging upside down, Spike places his boot against his face…and pushes forward, scraping the skin off the side of his face! Spike places his boot back in Manson’s face and shoves forward again…and a third time!


“Spike with the boot scrapes that are ripping at Manson’s face.”


Spike turns towards the crowd and starts clapping, trying to get them behind him. To sum it up, they don’t. Spike charges into the ropes, bounces back, and comes running back towards the upside down Manson. Spike lifts his boot into the air and drives it into his opponents hanging knee!!


“A running boot scrape to the injured knee!” cries King, “Innovation at its finest by the Cruiserweight champion!”


Manson yells out in pain as he frantically tries to grab his knee, but no such luck as he is still hung upside down. Spike leans on the ropes, looking out into the crowd with that cocky grin that everyone is so use to seeing him have. He climbs through the middle and top rope and slowly makes his way up to the top rope in a cockily fashion.


“What is Spike doing now?”


Spike makes it to the top rope and quickly comes off…driving his boot down across the upside down face of Manson!


“OH MY GOD! Some kind of inverted boot scrape that could possibly have broken Manson’s jaw and nose.”


“And Spike ties it! Rubbing it into Manson’s face, literally.”


The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd jeers.



“HSJ: 2

Manson: 2”


The referee unties Manson from the turnbuckle, letting him crash to the mat in mass amount of pain. Spike calmly walks over towards the corner, grabs Manson by his hair and drags him to his feet. Jenkins pulls him into a chancery, lifts Manson’s arm, and pulls him up into a suplex position…but places him on the top rope. Once placed on the top rope, Spike wields back and…





…Knife-edge chops Manson across the chest. Spike pulls himself up to the middle rope and climbs his way up to the top rope. He pulls Manson up into a standing position as well, and lays a couple of forearms into his back. He locks Manson’s head in a front face lock and hooks the arm. He grabs Manson’s tights…and lifts…











That Manson counters with a cross body as both men crash into the mat!


The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd cheers.



“HSJ: 2

Manson: 3”


Manson rolls off of Spike, towards the ropes. Spike jumps to his feet, clutching his neck after the bad fall he just had and dives towards the referee. Spike gets in his face, screaming that that was a mistake and it shouldn’t count, but nothing comes from it. Spike shoves the referee down to the mat and calls over for Jet.




“And here comes the chair…”


Jet slides in a chair from outside the ring into the ring. Spike picks the chair up, goes into the corner and climbs to the top rope. Manson climbs to his feet and turns around…







The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd jeers.



“HSJ: 3

Manson: 3”


“Oh come on! This is uncalled for! He is using a chair!”


“No disqualifications in a No Gravity match! The only way to win it to his five top rope maneuvers!”


Spike lifts the chair above his head and…SLAMS it down into the knee of Manson. Manson jumps in pain, clutching his knee as a small trickle of blood comes down his face. Spike backs into the corner and ascends to the top rope. Spike stands on the top rope, chair in hand, and trash talks to the fans…before coming off and driving the chair into the knee of Manson!


The SWF Scoreboard lights up as the score changes and the crowd jeers.



“HSJ: 4

Manson: 3”


“Spike has taken the lead by destroying Manson with a steel chair! This is unfair!”


“Pete, that’s not the thing we should be worrying about. We should worry more about how Spike…has…snapped.”


Spike reels the chair back and SLAMS it down onto the knee of Manson again. Manson rolls around the ring, trying to get away, but Spike grabs the leg. He pulls the leg up and slightly opens the steel chair. Spike slides the chair down the leg of Manson and drops it to the mat. Manson tries to sit up, but Spike kicks him in the forehead, widening the cut. Spike walks into the corner and begins to climb himself up to the top rope. Once there, he turns towards the crowd and holds five fingers up, shouting that this is the last one. He leaps off the top rope…









…And comes crashing down on top of the steel chair, Pillmanizing Manson’s knee!! The referee sees it and despite his wishes, he knows best to end the match and calls for the bell.


*Ding Ding Ding*


“And Spike’s One Hundred Plus Day Title Reign continues!”




“By any means necessary,” says King.


Jet slides into the ring and hands Spike the Cruiserweight title. He holds it up into the air; a cocky smirk mixed with a face filled with anger stands in the middle of the ring. He IS the longest reigning SWF Cruiserweight Champion in History.





And no one can stop that.





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Sadly, the mall was closed tonight.


As the athletes sit coldly outside, Landon Maddix picks up a harmonica. He plays, and Sean Davis begins to sing.



It's the motherf**kin D-O-double-G (SNOOP DOGG!)


You know I'm mobbin with the D.R.E.


You know who's back up in this MOTHERF**KER!)

What what what what?

(So blaze the weed up then!)

Blaze it up, blaze it up!

(Just blaze that shit up nigga, yeah, 'sup Snoop??)


Top Dogg, bite me all, nigga burn the shit up

D-P-G-C my nigga turn that shit up

C-P-T, L-B-C, yeah we hookin back up

And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up

Thug niggaz drug dealers yeah they givin it up

Lowlife, yo' life, boy we livin it up

Takin chances while we dancin in the party fo' sho'

Slip my hoe a forty-fo' and she got in the back do'

Bitches lookin at me strange but you know I don't care

Step up in this motherf**ker just a-swangin my hair

Bitch quit talkin, quick walk if you down with the set

Take a bullet with some dick and take this dope from this jet

Out of town, put it down for the Father of Rap

And if yo' ass get cracked, bitch shut yo' trap

Come back, get back, that's the part of success

If you believe in the X you'll be relievin your stress.




Austin Sly picks up, singing, "It's the motherf**kin D.R.E. (Dr. Dre


Davis rejoins, "La-da-da-da-dahhh,"

While Sly rebuts, "You know I'm mobbin with the D-O-double-G


Straight off the f**kin streets of C-P-T

King of the beats you ride to em in your Fleet (Fleetwood)

or Coupe DeVille rollin on dubs

How you feelin whoopty=whoop nigga whut?

Dre and Snoop chronic'ed out in the 'llac

with Doc in the back, sippin on 'gnac (yeah)

Clip in the strap, dippin through hoods (what hoods?)

Compton, Long Beach, Inglewood!

South Central out to the Westside (wessyde)

It's California Love, this California bud got a nigga gang of


I'm on one, I might bail up in the Century Club

with my jeans on, and my team strong

Get my drink on, and my smoke on

Then go home with, somethin to poke on (whassup bitch?)

Loc it's on for the two-triple-oh

Comin real, it's the next episode..."


Finally, Ebony joins in with her deep baritone.

"Hold up, heyyyyyyyy

for my niggaz who be thinkin we soft

We don't, playyyyyyy

We gon' rock it til the wheels fall off

Hold up, heyyyyyyyy

for my niggaz who be actin too bold

Take a, seeaaaaaat

Hope you ready for the next episode


.... smoke weed everday!"


Davis, taking the command, pulls out a handrolled cigarette and begins to light it.


"What the hell is that?" asks Candace Okimurra.


"You don't have to answer that!" shouts Marcus Washington.



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The timekeeper’s bell calls the attention of the fans in the Gund Arena to the center of the ring, where Funyon stands, holding the microphone:


“The following contest is scheduled for one fall,” he says. “And it is for the SWF World Tag Team Championship!”




At that moment, Kelly Connelly, the self-proclaimed “Queen” of the SWF, steps out onto the stage area, turning the crowd cheers into jeers. She gives them no time to rise up with their disparaging chants, thrusting one hip out with authority while bringing a microphone to her glimmering lips. The cameras zoom in on her voluptuous figure as she says, “Introducing first!”


Saliva’s “Superstar” starts to pound from the speakers, signaling the arrival of the Royal Order. The crowd, already booing when the theme song hits, gets even uglier when Max King and Dominic Korgath strut out from backstage to begin their walk towards the ring.


“At a total combined weight of six hundred pounds,” Kelly continues. “They are the most dominating tag team to ever grace this federation, and the sexiest to boot! The monstrous, colossal, Demonic Knight in the flesh… DOOOOMINIIIIIC KORGAAAAAAAAATH!”


The Gaijin hoists his massive arms above his head as his name is announced, growling ferociously to more booing.


“The thriller, the heart throb, the one and only, the TRUE Superior One… ‘THE ICON’ MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!”


Like his partner before him, Max King raises his arm out when his name is called. He then steps to the middle of the ring to stand next to Korgath with Kelly in the middle of them as they triumphantly raise all there arms up.


“Together they form the biggest, the baddest, the most dominating tag team ever, and after this match they’ll be the NEEEEEEEW SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIOOOOOOOOONS… ROOOYAAAAAAAAAAL ORDEEEEER!!!”




“Bold predictions from Kelly Connelly there,” notes Pete. “This match has yet to even start, but she is already claiming the Royal Order as the victors.”


“When you know you’re good, you know you’re good,” replies King. “These two are the perfect embodiment of Tag Team Champions. Just look at them, Pete, tell me those two don’t scream champion!”


“They have the look,” agrees Pete as Kelly gathers King and Korgath together to go review their strategy, “but they have yet to get the job done. This is their third tag match against Wild and Dangerous and they have yet to claim the victory.”


“And their opponents,” bellows Funyon as the Royal Order’s theme yields to the heavy hitting sound of Prodigy’s “Fuel My Fire” and the Gund absolutely erupts when Johnny and Wildchild spring out from behind the curtains!


“They’re on their feet here in Cleveland for the Tag Team Champions!” shouts LDP, as Wildchild and Johnny stand on the stage waving their hands back and forth. “Listen to this ovation!”




“At a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-one pounds… they are the SWF World Tag Team Champions: WILD! AAAAAAAAAND DAAAAAANGEROUS!” The Champions race down towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans at ringside, and doing a ‘victory lap’ around the ring. They slide into the ring and chase their opponents out to the arena floor before removing their title belts and climbing onto the turnbuckles, evoking more applause from the crowd as they hold the belts aloft!


“The Tag Team Champions look as ready as ever for the Max King and Dominic Korgath tonight,” says Pete.


“Yeah, but the Royal Order are very familiar with Wild and Dangerous,” counters King. “This will be the third time in six weeks that these teams have faced each other, and knowing Kelly Connelly, you can bet that she’s developed a strategy for defeating the two pretty boys… I predict new Tag Team Champions here tonight!” Wildchild and Johnny surrender their Championship belts to referee Red Herrington, who holds the belts aloft before walking over towards the ropes and handing them to Funyon as the announcer exits the ring. He then motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:




“Bell’s gone,” shouts Pete, “and we’re underway!” Wildchild, as usual, begins the match for the Champions, against Korgath. As Wildchild looks out into the crowd, Korgath tries to get the drop on him, charging towards him in the corner, but the Bahama Bomber effortlessly ducks out of the corner to avoid him, and spins Dominic around…






…Snapping the Big Demon’s head back with two rapid-fire jabs! Korgath swings a massive right hook, easily avoided by Wildchild, and follows it up with a left hook, but again Wildchild avoids him.




… But the Gaijin finally takes control with a rake of the eyes.


“Boy, Wildchild didn’t have to duck to get underneath those hooks,” says Pete.


“Yeah, but he couldn’t duck away from that thumb to the eyes,” replies King. Korgath pulls Wildchild away from the corner and traps him in a side-headlock. Wildchild tries to break the hold, but can’t overcome the mighty Gaijin’s strength, so he raises his outer leg sharply towards Korgath’s midsection…




… Driving some air out of the Big Demon with a kneelift! Wildchild repeats the process, causing Korgath to lose his footing and stumble backwards, and enabling the Tropical Tumbler to make the most of his sudden leverage advantage, pushing Korgath back against the edge of the ring and then using the ropes to help him propel the Gaijin across the ring…






… But Korgath comes thundering back with a tremendous shoulderblock, knocking Wildchild down to the canvas hard! The Big Demon extends his hands to his sides and leans menacingly over Wildchild, as if to say, “Yeah motherfucker, what’s up now?”




“Dominic Korgath exploding off the ropes with a big shoulderblock,” says LDP, “and not many men in the SWF can stand up against that kind of power!”


“Wildchild wanted to get free of that side headlock,” adds King, “but he outsmarted himself! Korgath surprised him with a rare display of speed, and damn near knocked him out of his tights!” Korgath pulls Wildchild to his feet, but the Caribbean Cruiser surprises him, slipping out of his grasp and floating behind him, hooking the Big Demon’s leg as he takes him over in a schoolboy pin!











But Korgath escapes easily before two, the force of his kickout knocking Wildchild to the mat! Wildchild beats Korgath to his feet, but the mighty Gaijin surprises him yet again with a show of speed, lurching forward from his knees…





… And driving his head into Wildchild’s midsection! Korgath thrusts his massive arm forward as he stands up, delivering a fierce punch to the side of Wildchild’s head that sends the Caribbean reeling. Once back on his feet, Korgath follows up with a vicious chop to Wildchild’s chest that nearly knocks him off his feet…






… And then delivers a boot to the midsection, which does send him to the mat!


“So far, Korgath has done an excellent job of preventing Wildchild from using his speed advantage,” notes King. “I told you, Drain-clogger, Kelly Connelly has her men prepared; the titles are going to change hands tonight!” Korgath shoots Johnny a dirty look before walking back over to Wildchild, pulling him to his feet by the hair. The mighty Gaijin whips Wildchild into the ropes and scoops him up as he rebounds, lifting him into the air with a military press, but the Bahama Bomber slides out of the Big Demon’s grip and lands on the canvas behind him, pushing the unsuspecting Korgath towards the edge of the ring! As Korgath stumbles towards him, Johnny uses the tag rope to balance himself as he spins around on the apron…






… And blasts Korgath in the face with a back spin kick! Wildchild races towards the ropes in the opposite direction as Korgath staggers backwards, and explodes off the canvas as the Gaijin careens back around…






… Whipping his leg through the air and knocking Korgath off his feet with a leg lariat! Wildchild crawls over to Korgath and immediately applies a lateral press!











But Korgath is still easily able to kick out before two! Wildchild springs back to his feet and races to the ropes before Korgath can regain his bearings, and lunges at the Big Demon as he rebounds…






… Knocking him back to the canvas with a flying back elbow! This time Wildchild hooks the leg as Red Herrington dives into position to count the shoulders:













THR— NO! This time, Wildchild is able to hold the mighty Gaijin down for two, but he is still easily able to kick out!


“Well, Korgath hasn’t had much difficulty in kicking out of these pin attempts, but he’s lost control of the pace of the match,” says Pete. Wildchild again beats Korgath to his feet and springs gracefully back off the canvas, thrusting both feet forward as the Big Demon stands back up…






… And knocking him back down with a dropkick! Korgath, deciding that he’s had his fill for the moment, rolls over to his corner and makes the tag to Max King.


“Connelly’s going to have to regroup her men and get them back on track,” notes Suicide King. “Wild and Dangerous have made a career out of making larger men try to keep up with them, and if the Royal Order wants to win here tonight, they’re going to have to impose their will on the pretty-boy champions!” King steps between the ropes, but Wildchild is not about to allow the Icon safe passage into the ring, greeting him with a clubbing forearm to the back, followed by a series of quick right jabs to the face that send King staggering backwards against the ropes! Wildchild grabs King by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Icon reverses easily. King raises his leg to deliver a boot as Wildchild rebounds, but the Bahama Bomber grabs his foot!


“Uh-oh,” says LDP. “Max King tried to get the drop on Wildchild, but Wildchild had him well scouted!” Wildchild takes King off his feet with a simple leg trip and drags him over to his corner, where he makes the tag to Johnny Dangerous. The Barracuda steps into the ring and grabs King’s other leg as the Cleveland faithful roar their approval!


“The Tag Team Champions have Max King at their mercy,” says Pete, “and they’re going to take advantage of all five seconds at their disposal!” Wildchild and Johnny each pull one of King’s legs in opposite directions…






… Tormenting the Icon’s groin with a brutal wishbone!


“Wishbone,” groans Pete. “What do you suppose Max is wishing for, King?”


“I don’t know about him,” replies Suicide King, “but I’ll bet I can guess what Kelly is wishing for!” Kelly paces around the ring, a pained expression on her face as her man rolls onto his stomach inside the ring, clutching his groin. Johnny pulls King to his feet and lifts him into a fireman’s carry. He steps forward and lunges towards the mat…





… Driving the Icon into the canvas with his patented rolling fireman’s carry!


“Spinal Explosion!” shouts LDP, as Johnny rolls over and applies a lateral press:



















“No!” cries King. “Two count only!” Johnny gets to his feet and reaches over to his corner to make the tag to his partner. Wildchild leaps over the top rope to enter the ring, racing across the ring as the Barracuda sets King up for a slingshot. The Bahama Bomber dashes back across the ring and leaps onto the top rope as Johnny falls backwards, propelling the Icon towards Wildchild as he explodes off the top rope curled into a ball…






… And blasting King in the chest with his patented Pinball attack!


“Vintage double-teaming by the Tag Team Champions,” says Pete. Wildchild pulls King to his feet and whips him towards a neutral corner, but the Icon reverses easily. However, the Human Hurricane leaps into the air as he approaches the corner and lands on the top turnbuckle before flipping backwards into the ring as King charges the corner, and plants his feet into the Icon’s midsection as he spins back around while locking his hands around King’s head, taking him over with his patented Freefall monkey flip!


“Nice three-sixty by Wildchild, before getting him over with that Freefall,” says Pete.


“Well,” replies King, “it was flashy and it worked, but moves like that aren’t going to be enough to put Max King away!” Wildchild pulls King to his feet and leads him over to his corner, where he tags Johnny back in. Wildchild darts across the ring as Johnny steps between the ropes…






… And surprises Korgath with a running dropkick that knocks him off the apron!


“Wildchild caught Korgath sleeping,” exclaims LDP, as the Bahama Bomber runs back over to help his partner set King up for a double whip.


“Typical illegal double-teaming by Wild and Dangerous!” spits King. “It’s an atrocity that these two are the World Champions with the way they cheat shamelessly in every match!” Wild and Dangerous whip Max King into his now abandoned corner, where he crashes into the turnbuckles forcefully! He staggers out of the corner – his face painted with anguish – before Wildchild and Johnny send the Icon barreling across the ring once more, this time whipping him to their corner! Like before, Max pops off the post, stumbling right back into Wild and Dangerous path, but the Champions aren’t about to allow him any relief and they and whip him into the turnbuckles a third, spine-mashing time!


“Wild and Dangerous are battering Max King from pillar to post!” shouts LDP. Wildchild and Johnny step out onto the apron, climbing simultaneously onto the same turnbuckle as King staggers out of the turnbuckles a third time, and then explode into the ring!






… Knocking the Icon silly with a flying double shoulderblock!


“The Royal Order had better get their act together quickly,” warns Pete, “or it’s going to be back to the drawing board!”


“Well, it’s easy for them to control the pace of the match when this idiot referee allows them to be in the ring together for nearly twenty seconds!” growls King.


“Don’t be too hard on Red Herrington,” counters LDP. “He was checking up on Korgath, and lost track of how long Wild and Dangerous had been in the ring.”


“Herrington doesn’t need to worry about Korgath,” snaps King. “He has a manager to do that for him!” As if she heard her name being called, Kelly climbs onto the ring apron to protest the referee’s latitude with the Tag Team Champions. In the confusion, Johnny looks out into the crowd and gives them the signal for his patented MI Slam finisher!







“Johnny just gave the sign for the MI Slam!” shouts Pete. “If he hits that, it’s all over!” Kelly continues to captivate the referee’s attention as Johnny prepares to lift King into the air…





… And allowing Korgath the distraction he needs to deliver a ferocious Yakuza Kick!


“Quick thinking by Kelly Connelly enables the Royal Order to turn the tables,” crows King. “Now let’s see how well the pretty boys do on defense!” King pulls Johnny to his feet and drags him over to the corner as Kelly drops back to the arena floor, ramming him into the top turnbuckle before making the tag to Korgath. The Big Demon steps back between the ropes as the Icon holds Johnny in place, and delivers a devastating chop to the Barracuda’s unprotected chest! Korgath grabs Johnny by the wrist and whips him into the ropes, snatching him off the canvas as he rebounds, and into a crushing bearhug!


“Korgath Krusher!” winces Pete. “Johnny’s got nowhere to go!” The Barracuda screams in pain as the mighty Gaijin continues to apply pressure to his ribs, getting some boos from the Cleveland fans for his efforts.


“Korgath might not get the submission with this move, but Johnny’s going to be ripe for whatever else the Royal Order has in store for him…whenever Korgath decides to let go that is!”


“Decides to let go?” questions LDP.


“That’s right,” assures King, “decides to let go! You don’t really think that Johnny has the strength to power out of that, do you?”


“Maybe not,” answers Pete, “but you know as well as I do that there’s more than one way out of a bearhug!” As if reading Pete’s mind, the Barracuda raises his arms up suddenly…





… Clapping them together against Korgath’s ears! The Big Demon roars in pain and releases his hold, dropping Johnny to the canvas as he himself drops to his knees and grabs his ringing ears!


“He did it!” shrieks Pete. “Johnny got out of the bearhug; now he needs to tag his partner back in!” Wildchild holds his arm out to Johnny, pleading with him to make the tag, but the Barracuda merely gives Wildchild the “thumbs up” sign as he scrambles to his feet, and begins punching away at Korgath.


“What was that about,” Pete wonders aloud. “Why didn’t he tag?” Johnny grabs Korgath by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the mighty Gaijin reverses easily. Johnny bounces off the ropes…







… When King suddenly drives his knee into the Barracuda’s back from outside the ring! Johnny stumbles off the ropes, holding his back, as Korgath charges in and absolutely LEVELS the Secret Agent with a brutal clothesline!


“What an unfortunate turn of events for Wild and Dangerous!” cries Pete. “Johnny Dangerous had a golden opportunity to tag his partner, but decided to stay in the ring, and now he’s paying for it!”


“Johnny’s an idiot,” replies King. “It’s like he’s trying to win the match by himself, and I’ll tell you what: even though he may be a former World Champion, he’s not going to beat the Royal Order unless he accepts his partner’s help!”


Pulling Johnny back up to his feet, the Big Demon wrenches Johnny’s arm then reaches out with his other arm to tag the Icon into the match. He holds Johnny’s arm in the wrench as Max steps into the ring and sends a series of hard kicks into the Barracuda’s chest, garnering him some boos from the Cleveland fans. Max doesn’t care about them though; rather, it’s the man standing directly across the ring – Wildchild - that gets a challenging glare from the Icon.


“He’s going to have to try harder than that if he wants to bait Wildchild out of the corner,” says Pete. “He’s a master of the tag team environment and he knows when to stay put.”


Max pulls Johnny up then sends him on his way across the ring with an Irish whip, but Johnny suddenly reverses and sends the Icon for the ride instead! King hits the ropes and rebounds as Johnny stoops down, looking for a back body drop, only to get a kicked in the head from the quick-thinking Icon instead!




“OOOOOOH!” the crowd sympathetically cries out as Johnny stumbles back, holding his face, and Max charges in and flattens him to the canvas with a clothesline before floating over for the cover…















Johnny kicks out, and tries to get himself moving so he can get to his corner. He pushes himself up to his feet, but Max grabs him by the ankle and pulls Dangerous back down to his knee.


“You had your chance to make the tag already, Johnny,” taunts King. “It’s too late now!”


However, the Barracuda is desperate to get to his partner’s outstretched hand now, and he pushes up to one foot as King holds his other foot by his ankle…




…And Johnny leaps up and cranks his boot into the back of the Icon’s skull with an enzugiri!


“OOOOOOOOH!” the crowd winces gleefully as Max King drops like a stone and Johnny starts to crawl his way towards the corner.


“He’s got to make it to his corner now – Johnny needs the tag as bad as Hearford needs a new hairpiece!”


Dangerous pushes up to his feet and hobbles towards Wildchild, but not far behind is Max King. He isn’t about to let a single enzugiri stop him, even if it does hurt like the dickens, and he charges in towards the Barracuda, looking to stop him from reaching his partner…


…And Johnny dives for Wildchild’s hand…








“Wildchild’s in!” shouts Pete, as the fans go completely wild! Wildchild springs to the top rope and then leaps towards the Icon with both feet extended. He locks his legs around Max King’s neck then sends the Icon skidding across the mat with a top rope hurricanrana!




Wildchild kips back up to his feet and braces himself to take on the Big Demon, catching sight of him barreling across the ring. Korgath swings, looking to flatten the Bahaman with a thunderous clothesline, but Wildchild easily ducks under before heading across the ring behind him. He hits the ropes and then SPRINGS~ off them, coming back towards the Gaijin just as he spins around to face the Bahama Bomber and gets a face-full of Wildchild’s feet!




“And the Bahama Bomber is on fire in that ring!” shouts Pete as Wildchild takes another turn at the ropes. “He’s cutting through the Royal Order like a Caribbean storm!”


Wildchild tears back across the ring towards the sprawled Korgath, and then dives into a handspring and flips all the way over to come crashing down back-first into the Big Demon with a senton!


“All flash and no substance,” spits King, but the Bahaman’s move leaves the big man down. He pops back up to his feet and grabs Max King as the Icon staggers back to his feet, and whips him across the ring. Max bounces back as Wildchild leaps up…




“NO! Wildchild tried to plant a springing side kick into Max King, but he ducked under it,” says King as Max heads for the opposite side of the ring and rebounds, charging back towards his opponent like an out of control Mack 10 truck…




“And this time Wildchild HITS the springing side kick,” announces Pete, and the Icon goes spinning to the mat. “You can’t try and out maneuver the fastest man in this federation, and I think Max King just found that out the hard way!”


“I have to agree,” mutters Suicide King. “Max should have nailed him with a reach-behind neck breaker after dodging that kick and not run the ropes. However, it’ll take a lot more than a crappy kick from a weakling like Wildchild there to put the Icon down for three!”


“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop him from trying though,” notes Pete as Wildchild drops over max for the pin…
















“Damn,” curses LDP as Korgath mashes his boot into the back of Wildchild’s skull, effectively ending this pin attempt. “I thought Dominic Korgath would be down for good after that senton, but he manages to come through in the thick to keep his team alive.”


“I told you already – all flash, no substance!”


Herrington jumps back to his feet, admonishing the Big Demon for being in the ring and orders him to return to the apron, as Wildchild grabs hold of Max by his legs and Johnny climbs to the top of the turnbuckle. The fans rise with cheers, “-and it looks like the Barracuda might have his head screwed back on right now,” says Pete. “The Champs are up to something here, but more importantly, they’re back on the same path.”


Wildchild quickly falls backwards, snapping Max off the mat and flinging him overhead with a slingshot as Johnny dives off the turnbuckle, ensnaring the Icon’s head before drilling him back into the canvas with a blockbuster!








“DEAR GOD! HOW’S THAT FOR SUBSTANCE!” Pete shouts over the jubilant fans, over Kelly’s shrills of horror, and more importantly…over the Suicide King’s cursing. “They just destroyed Max King with that! To think that we were saying the Champs weren’t on the same page tonight!”


“That was you, Pete, I wasn’t the least bit interested, if you’ll recall correctly,” growls King.


Johnny steps back out on the apron as Wildchild rolls Max onto his back and firmly pins his shoulders to the mat. Herrington turns back around just in time to see the pin and races across the ring to get there, diving to the mat like a solider trying to avoid a grenade blast to deliver the count…














“Again, Dominic breaks up the count,” says Pete. Herrington pops up to his feet and barks at the Big Demon to get back to his apron, but this time Johnny comes into the ring himself. He makes a beeline for the Gaijin, only for the referee to cut him off and order him back out of the ring now.


“What comes around goes around,” sings King as the referee’s focus on the Barracuda gives Max King the chance to stumble to his corner while Korgath starts to lay in with some right hands on the Bahama Bomber. “And now it’s Wildchild who pays for the partner coming into the ring.”


“He wouldn’t be in there if Korgath hadn’t come in the ring in the first place,” counters Pete, but it’s to no avail as the Big Demon takes over with the Icon stepping out on the apron and lowering his head for Kelly to dab with a towel. Finally, after getting Dangerous back in his proper place, Herrington comes back in and signals for the legal tag, getting some boos from the fans in response.


“Aw, come on, ref,” grumbles LDP, “they didn’t even make the tag!”


“Again,” replies King, “maybe if Johnny would stay where he was supposed to this could have been avoided. That’s twice now that the Barracuda has tried to put himself ahead of the team.”


Korgath grabs hold of Wildchild by his waist and hauls him through the air for a German suplex… but Wildchild flips out and safely lands on his feet to a big cheer! He leaps up as the Big Demon jumps back to his feet and plants Korgath in the mouth with a big drop kick, sending the Gaijin stumbling back and falling into the ropes! Wildchild quickly darts to the Royal corner of the ring and sends a spinning back elbow into Max King’s head, knocking him from the apron to another huge cheer as Johnny watches on!


Kelly, seeing this kind of antics before, knows she has to get her man moving and tries to shake some sense back into him as Wildchild rockets back the way he came from. Korgath dazedly looks up and sees the Bahaman streaking towards him, then shuffles to the side to try and ‘Bushwhacker Luke’ Wildchild out of the ring…







…But Wildchild gracefully lands on the apron! Korgath growls in frustration as he turns around and sees Wildchild still on the apron, before rushing towards him to finish the job, but the Bahama Bomber vaults to the top rope and springs off! He reaches out for the Gaijin’s head as he flies towards him, snares it, and then sends Korgath spiraling to the mat with a tremendous, brain jarring DDT!




“PRESUMED GUILTY~!” exclaims LDP, as the Cleveland fans go completely wild for the devastating move. “Wildchild has this match won – so much for Kelly’s predictions of crowning new Tag Champions tonight!”


As Kelly still frantically tries to get Max King moving, Wildchild pops back up to his feet, raising his arms triumphantly to the fans, getting a huge roar of approval from them. He stumbles back a step, close to his corner…






…And receives a tag on the back from Johnny?


“What’s going on here?” questions Pete. “I think Wildchild was in good position without the Barracuda tagging in.”


Herrington signals the tag, leaving Wildchild in a state of wonder as he turns back around towards Johnny with a raised brow, only to see the Barracuda posted on the top of the turnbuckle before back-flipping off, into the ring, and coming down with both feet into the heart of Dominic Korgath!




“DEATH FROM ABOVE~!” shouts Pete, deciding just to go with it, as the fans were certainly praising the move. Johnny collapses on his opponent’s chest, hooking Korgath’s leg and pulling harder than may have actually been necessary, as Herrington drops to count:

















“Wild and Dangerous wins!” cheers Pete as the fans burst into cheers, and “Fuel my Fire” starts pounding from the speakers. “But I can’t help but wonder what was up with that rather odd last tag Johnny Dangerous made.”


“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” mutters King. “Your boys win and now you’re complaining about it. I think Johnny saw Wildchild stumble and figured he was too dazed to go on.”


Johnny mugs for the cameras and the Cleveland fans, climbing a corner post and pumping his fist out to them as Wildchild stands with his arms open, still seemingly looking for an answer to the Barracuda stealing his thunder.




“I still don’t know about that,” says LDP, finally replying to his announcing partner’s hypothesis. “Something is definitely odd about Johnny Dangerous.”


In the ring, Johnny grabs Wildchild by his arm and raises it with his own in victory. The Bahama Bomber shakes his head in irritation, but decides to just go with it. After all, the referee was standing in front of them, handing the tag titles back to Wild and Dangerous… All was right in the world…






Wasn’t it?





As we:


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The picture fades in with Sacred and Clark already going at it in the ring!


“We’re back,” says Paul Begala to a round of applause, watching the action unfold in the ring as Sacred whips Clark to the ropes. As he rebounds, the World Champion grabs him and throws him to the mat with an armbar.


“It’s a good thing they picked us up for this match,” says Tucker Carlson, pausing to adjust his bow tie before continuing. “I can’t believe CNN fired me and not Novak.” Silence.


“Jesus,” Begala commiserates. “It’s bad enough they canceled Crossfire, but Robert shouldn’t even be working. The man should be in jail.” The crowd applauds Begala’s remark.


Sacred releases Clark, who bounds back to his feet. Before he can react, though, the Australian lays into him with a stiff knife-edge chop!




Then another!




And a third!




Clark backs into the ropes, and Sacred grasps his arm, then takes a step back to whip Clark across the ring. The Martial Law member, however, steps around and reverses the momentum, sending Sacred to the ropes instead! Sacred bounces off and, running at Clark, gets taken for a ride as Clark ducks down and then back body drops him over the top rope! The World Champion soars through the air, finally coming to a halt with a splat on the concrete.


“And here we go,” says Begala. “From the right, Toxxic’s got a mandate to do whatever he wants to Sacred!” The crowd cheers wildly.


“Frankly,” Carlson adds, “if he doesn’t, the terrorists will have already won.” The crowd sits on its hands.


“Oh, now that’s just ridiculous.” Begala’s throwaway remark is met with wild cheering.


“You’re making an emotional appeal. I don’t know how I’m supposed to compete with that.” Some fans boo Carlson. Others just sit there listlessly.


Toxxic grabs Sacred by the hair and lifts him to his feet, as Clark looks on. Toxxic takes the opportunity to nail the Champion with a stiff forearm smash, and Sacred staggers backwards. From there, an angry Alan Clark grabs the top rope and swings out, dropkicking Toxxic in the face! The fans burst into cheers as Clark follows through, sliding onto the apron as Toxxic wallops the World Champion again.


“What the hell is Clark doing?” asks Carlson. The crowd, apparently not knowing the answer, does not react.


“In from the left with a dropkick!” shouts Begala. The fans begin a “BE-GA-LA” chant.


Referee Jim Stine looks on as Toxxic collapses to the floor. Clark grabs Sacred, ready to whip him into a cornerpost… but Mak Francis grabs Clark from behind and hammers him with a right hand! The Cleveland crowd cheers as Francis and Clark get into it, with Clark trying to fight off “the Franchise” and get back to his opponent. Sacred and Toxxic continue brawling, and the referee orders them to return to the ring.


“Stine’s as ineffective as the UN!” shouts Carlson. Silence.


“Oh, come on,” says Begala, prompting a round of applause.


Stine screams for Sacred and Clark to re-enter the ring, or at least for Toxxic and Francis to return them to the squared circle. The men are too engrossed in their brawling to react. Finally, frustrated, the wrestling purist calls for the bell.




“Ladies and gentlemen,” announces Funyon, “this match is a no-contest!”


The combatants pay no heed. As the brawling continues, Toxxic lays into Sacred with another vicious forearm smash.


“This is bedlam,” screams Carlson, silencing the crowd.


“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry,” says Begala to a deafening roar, “we’re out of time! We’ll see you next week on Smarkdown, assuming the commentators get bored again!”


The brawling continues as the show fades out.



SWF Lockdown, February 9, 2005.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “The Only Windowlicker We Have Is Danny Dagda.”

© 2005, Ego Buster Productions. All rights reserved.

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