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SWF Storm 4-29-05

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SINCOS…

 

 

QUATROS…

 

 

TRES…

 

 

DUOS…

 

 

UNOS…

 

 

 

*BANG! BANG! BANG! BUH-BUH-BUH-BUH-BOOOOOMMMMM!!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The lights go up, the pyros go off and the cameras pan around the arena showing roughly two thousand fans packed shoulder-to-shoulder! The atmosphere is intense, and the shot switches to Suicide King and Longdogger Pete at the announce table!

 

“Fans, welcome to the Dady’O Nightclub!” Longdogger bellows over the din of the relatively small but amazing vocal crowd. “We are here, LIVE~ in Cancun, Mexico on the first stop of our ‘The End Of The World As We Know It’ Tour, at the joint is jumpin’!”

 

“-and more importantly,” the suave tones of the Suicide King cut in, “it’s not the end of the world as we know it, because Toxxic is still World Champion!”

 

“Oh, give it a rest,” Pete mutters irritably. “Did you have to bring that up in your first sentence?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” King informs him with no real trace of regret in his voice, flourishing a document. “It’s here in the contract; ‘gloat about heels winning at the first available opportunity’. Right there, under ‘defile Edwin’s name wherever possible’.”

 

“And who drew this contract up?” Pete asks suspiciously.

 

“Well, I did actually,” King admits. “One of the advantages of running the damn company for a couple of years…”

 

Before the two announcers can squabble any further however, they are cut off by a very familiar noise: the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire which receives an immediate response from the Mexican crowd…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Dry ice hisses up (we can’t have too many pyros in a nightclub, but you can’t have a World Champion coming to the ring without some sort of needless ostentation, after all) and after a few seconds the distinctive, spiky-haired shape of the World Champion emerges with the SWF World Title over his shoulder.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the ring at this time,” Funyon announces, knowing even as he says it that it won’t work, “from Nottingham, England; the leader of Revolution Zero and the SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPION… TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation rolls into the ring under the bottom rope, pops back up to his feet and collects the microphone from Funyon, then ushers the veteran ring announcer from the squared circle and raises the mic to his lips.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

And lowers it again.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Then evidently decides ‘screw it’, and begins speaking.

 

“Hola!”

 

There is a brief pause, then Toxxic shrugs.

 

“OK, that’s all the Spanish I know, alright? I had to do German at school and they didn’t have ‘Dora The Explorer’ when I was little.”

 

“…TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“OK, OK, I get the idea,” the World Champion says, raising his hand, “let’s get this over with, shall we? Believe me, I don’t want to stay out here listening to you any more than you want to listen to me.” This proposal seems to get the Brit some momentary leeway, so without further ado he launches into his spiel.

 

“First things first. I know a lot of very exciting and very important things happened at Battleground,” the straight-edger begins, “but there was of course one thing that stood out above all others:

 

“I refer, of course, to Janus returning. What the hell was up with that?”

 

“TOXX-IC LOVES PRETZ-LER!”

 

“TOXX-IC LOVES PRETZ-LER!”

 

“Yeah, and that’s the weird thing,” Toxxic continues. “The Hell Machine makes a surprise appearance in the SWF… and he’s wearing pink and trying to match-make team members up. I don’t know what sort of bizarre route his mental illness has taken now but quite frankly it’s a bit more worrying than anything I’ve seen before, and that includes the time where Terrence and Janus teamed up to drop me headfirst off a ladder.”

 

“TOXX-IC LOVES PRETZ-LER!”

 

“Oh please, am I meant to find that insulting?” the World Champion scoffs. “Honestly, I’ve got more important things to think about than some seven-foot psychopath questioning my sexuality. Like, for example, the fact that I beat Mak Francis, and I’m still World Champion!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Now, I won’t argue that it wasn’t one of the tougher matches of my career so far,” Toxxic admits, “and sure, there’s always these mutters going around; ‘he got him this time, but maybe next time…’” The Straight-Edge Sensation stares around the crowd with his pale grey eyes, and one side of his face creases up into the familiar lopsided grin.

 

“…what you’ve all got to remember is that I’m the best man in this company at making sure that ‘next time’ keeps becoming ‘this time’! Landon Maddix came close, Todd Cortez came close, Mak Francis came close - I didn’t destroy any of them, they all pushed me to the limit,” Toxxic admits, “but at the end of the day who came out on top? And time after time after time, I will do it again!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Ah, put a sock in it,” the straight-edger declares, waving his hand dismissively at the crowd. “I’m not out here to talk to you, I’m here to talk to the locker room. So,” he continues, turning to face the entranceway,” here I am with my title and back there are a load of hungry competitors. Mak? I know you’ve gotta be smarting about Sunday. Johnny? Someone’s lost his title, and I bet you want to aim a bit higher this time. Or what about Landon,” the World Champion says with a sly grin, “fancy giving it another go sunshine? I’m not guaranteeing nothing cos I don’t make the matches, but let’s get it all out in the open here…”

 

However, instead of the Incubus or My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult or the Cypress Hill that the crowd might be expecting, the tones of ‘Learning To Fly’ by Pink Floyd start to ring out over the PA system! Toxxic’s expression becomes one of considerable confusion as the boos start up again, and out steps ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’, Jay Hawke!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Two of the most talented competitors in the SWF today, and these rubes boo them,” Suicide King laments. “Honestly, there’s as little intellect south of the border as there is in the US.”

 

“While you finish insulting our hosts,” Pete remarks, glancing around at the Mexicans packed into Dady’O, “perhaps we could consider why the Dean might be making his way out here? He’s the number one contender to Landon Maddix’s International Title - in fact their title match main-events tonight’s show - but has he already set his sights even higher?”

 

The arrogant smirk on Hawke’s face might indicate that the Longdogger is correct, but as the self-proclaimed Dean of Professional Wrestling steps through the ropes Toxxic doesn’t seem to want to give him a chance to make his presence felt…

 

“Alright, you’ve had your joke,” the World Champion snaps, raising a black-nailed hand to halt Jay Hawke’s progress, “now turn your over-educated backside around and get the bloody hell out of my ring, will you?” Toxxic steps back, apparently expecting Hawke to accede to his demand, but the Dean simply straightens his jacket and calls for a microphone from a ring technician, not taking his eyes from the increasingly impatient Straight-Edge Sensation as he does so.

 

“As I recall,” Hawke begins, causing the front two rows of the audience to fall into instant slumber, “you invited any of the ‘hungry competitors’ in the locker room who had designs on your title to step out and make themselves known, did you not?” The Dean smirks again as he indicates himself with a wave of his hand. “Well, here I am!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Toxxic tilts his head to one side, clearly trying to come to terms with the nature of this interruption, then raises his own microphone and begins speaking again.

 

“Listen sunshine, I think you might be getting a bit muddled here,” the straight-edger tells Hawke. “See, I’m talking about the World Title. You,” he explains, prodding Jay in the chest, “are number one contender to the International Title, a.k.a that bit of glorified tin that Landon’s carrying around. Now, later on tonight you can try and take it off him, and you’ll have my full support in that venture. And then when you’ve held it for a while, and you’ve main-evented a few TV broadcasts, and you’ve got some respect from the roster,” Toxxic pauses to look the older man up and down, then continues, “and assuming you haven’t retired by then… that’s when you might get a shot at the twenty pounds of gold currently adornin’ my right shoulder.”

 

Jay Hawke isn’t smiling quite so widely now, and in the background the faint strains of a ‘You Both Suck’ chant can be heard as the crowd begins to experiment a little. However, the Dean of Professional Wrestling doesn’t back down from the World Champion.

 

“I fully intend to deprive Landon of his title belt,” Hawke tells Toxxic, sounding rather less jovial. “However, once I have done that I intend to challenge for your title and take it from you, not only replacing you as the fastest-rising World Champion since the year 2000, but also the first-ever man to hold the World and International Titles at the same time!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Well, the crowd don’t seem to appreciate that aim from Jay Hawke,” Longdogger Pete comments, looking around.

 

“No, they’d probably rather that some moron like Landon did it,” Suicide King complains. “Further proof that bad taste travels well.”

 

Toxxic’s eyebrows have raised at Hawke’s blatant statement of ambition, but the Straight-Edge Sensation is not about to be cowed by a cerebral Clevelander and his familiar lopsided grin spreads over his face again.

 

“Look,” the World Champion begins, “I think you might need a bit of reminding as to the peckin’ order around here. So let me fill you in; at the top is the World Heavyweight Champion.” Toxxic’s grin widens. “That’s me, in case you’d forgotten.”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Now,” the Straight-Edge Sensation continues, motioning with his hands in the air to indicate a pyramidal structure, “since we’re on Storm the next person we get to is Tom Flesher, growing ever more rotund in his retirement.”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“Now, underneath Flesher… well, underneath Flesher is generally Allison Onita,” Toxxic concedes, “but for the purposes of my demonstration I’m taking about my two good friends in Revolution Zero, Scott Pretzler and JJ Johnson.”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“Then we get the contenders and champions,” Toxxic carries on, “people like Mak Francis, Spike Jenkins, International Champion Landon Maddix, Tag Champions Wild & Dangerous and, why the hell not, the Hardcore Champion Insane Luchador.”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“You with me so far?” Toxxic grins at Hawke, whose expression is becoming stormier and stormier. “Right, after Rickmen we get to the midcard - Ejiro, Todd Cortez, Li’l Buck and all that lot.”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“Then the commentators.”

 

[“Oh, thanks very much,” King snorts.]

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“Then the referees and Funyon.”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“Then the technicians backstage and Big Dave in the production truck,” Toxxic says, giving a cheesy thumbs-up and wink to the man who cues up his music week after week.

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“Then Ejiro’s sister,” Toxxic continues, eyeing Hawke’s increasing anger with amusement.

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“…then Mike Van Siclen’s sister…”

 

“YOU BOTH SUCK!”

 

“…and then it’s you!” Toxxic finishes triumphantly, emphasising his point by prodding Hawke in the chest again. Some of the crowd laugh despite themselves, but Hawke slaps Toxxic’s finger away.

 

“Very funny,” the Dean snaps icily. “That little joke is just going to make it even more pleasurable when I take your title from you - and I hope you’ll note that I won’t have broken anyone’s neck on the way, unlike some careless individuals I could mention!” The crowd response to that remark is somewhat mixed with some people cheering Hawke’s straight-talking to the World Champion, and Toxxic looks around at the Mexican crowd in apparent disbelief.

 

“What, you’re gonna cheer him over me?” the Brit queries. “This man’s a Republican! He wants to see you working in sweatshops and picking fruit - that’s if he even lets you into his country at all!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“At least I can wrestle a match without flipping and flopping around the ring like a drunk person,” Hawke sniffs, but Toxxic pounces on this statement.

 

“Wait, wait,” the World Champion grins, “don’t tell me that here in Cancun, Mexico you are dissin’ the noble art of LUCHA LIBRE!?”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd definitely liked that, and Toxxic follows up with another broadside.

 

“The noble art of Lucha Libre,” he reaffirms, “most notably expounded by Mexico’s Number One Superstar, El Luchadore Magnifico!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

“…El Luchadore Magnifico and his record-breaking World Title reign!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

…which I am going to beat,” Toxxic finishes smugly.

 

“…”

 

“…?”

 

“…BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“That’s right!” Toxxic yells at the crowd as King nearly pisses himself, “you’re gonna boo me on my terms, damnit!” He returns his attention to Jay Hawke, who is quietly fuming as the charismatic World Champion works the crowd.

 

“Look,” Toxxic begins, “why don’t you come back to see me when you can actually beat, say, Johnny Danger-”

 

“I can beat Johnny Dangerous!” Hawke snaps, interrupting the straight-edger, “and he knows it! In fact, I think you’ll find that the only reason Dangerous dropped the International Title to Landon Maddix was because he was afraid to face me for it!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Well, that’s an ‘interesting’ point of view,” Toxxic laughs, “but I don’t think Johnny’s got the brains to be scared, and certainly not of someone like y-”

 

“When I have taken the International Title from Landon,” Hawke cuts Toxxic off again, “I will make sure that I defend the belt against Johnny Dangerous, if he feels up to facing the challenge! And then I will challenge you for the World Title and give you a wrestling lesson you’ll never forget… and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

[“Are they booing Hawke or Toxxic?” Pete hisses.]

 

[“I’m not sure even they know anymore,” King whispers back.]

 

“Right, I’ve had enough of this,” Toxxic says abruptly, “so the sooner Johnny gets fed up of listening to you bad-mouthing him and comes out to clear up his sloppy seconds, the sooner we can all-”

 

‘JOHNNY DANGEROUS!’

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“-can I finish a bloody sentence around here?” Toxxic yells over the microphone, but the Dady’O nightclub isn’t paying attention to the World Champion anymore as ‘After The Flesh’ thumps out over the speakers and two thousand Mexicans rise to their feet to salute the man known as the Barracuda!

 

“VI-VA JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

 

“VI-VA JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

 

The Secret Agent strides down the entranceway with his trenchcoat billowing behind him and the Tag Title glinting around his waist as the crowd goes wild! Johnny slides into the ring and pops back up to his feet, removing his shades to stare into Toxxic’s eyes as his music fades out.

 

“Well, this is the first time these two have seen each other since Battleground,” Longdogger Pete points out, “and the last moments of that Pay-Per-View saw Johnny Dangerous give Toxxic the MI Slam onto the entrance ramp!”

 

“A vile, cowardly attack from behind on an exhausted opponent!” King spits.

 

“Stop boasting about your career, Brian.”

 

“VI-VA JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

 

“VI-VA JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

 

“Well well, look who’s here,” Toxxic sneers. “If it ain’t the same upstanding model of moral integrity who jumped me on Sunday. I tell you, with people like you working for the government is it any wonder no-one else can stand your country?” The Straight-Edge Sensation pauses for a moment as if to rally support from the Mexican crowd, but the tactics that got him (briefly) cheered against Hawke won’t work when he’s facing off against a superstar with the international fan following of Johnny Dangerous.

 

“Toxxic?” Johnny says, his voice picked up by the microphone held in the World Champion’s black-nailed hand.

 

“What?”

 

“…SHUT UP!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Dady’O erupts as the Barracuda snatches the microphone from Toxxic’s grasp, forestalling a witty comeback from the World Champion, and rounds on Jay Hawke.

 

“I’m not in any mood for a long, drawn-out conversation here,” Johnny snarls at the Dean of Professional Wrestling, “so I’ll make this short and simple. Whether or not you win the title from Landon tonight I will be more than happy to face you again, in the US, in Mexico or in any other country you want, in whatever sort of match you want… and I will beat you again!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“I will win the title,” Hawke shoots back, “and then I’m going to take you to school.” An arrogant smirk crosses the Dean’s face as he continues, “after all, you beat Toxxic in your first one-on-one encounter as well, but I think things have gone a bit differently since then…”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic grins at first at that comment, then seems to sober up as he realises Jay Hawke is comparing himself to the Straight-Edge Sensation. However, Johnny’s response shows a complete lack of appreciation for the humour as he and Hawke go nose to nose…

 

“Could we have a brawl right here on Storm?” Pete asks as the crowd noise rises in anticipation. “We know Hawke and Dangerous don’t like each other, and things are gettin’ volatile!”

 

“God, I hope so,” King mutters, “all this talking is boring me.”

 

However, it seems the former Commissioner is going to be disappointed on this score as after a few seconds the shorter Jay Hawke steps back, clearing Johnny’s path to the back, and tugs at his jacket as if to point out that he’s not really dressed for wrestling at the moment, and don’t forget he’s got this important match later on to get ready for…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Johnny curls his lip, but tosses the microphone back to Toxxic and stalks towards the ropes, bends down to go through…

 

…and now Jay Hawke attacks, jumping Dangerous from behind!

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

Johnny is staggered and Hawke hauls him up, cinching in a chickenwing and looking for the crossface to trap Dangerous in the punishing Wing Span hold… but Johnny fires off back elbow after back elbow with his free arm, and Hawke is thrown off!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The Barracuda rounds on his dazed enemy and grabs Hawke’s wrist, then Irish whips him into the ropes and-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-levels him with a Johnny Kick on his return! Before Jay has even come to rest on the mat the supercharged Secret Agent is darting for the ropes himself, then comes back and flips himself into the air to come down…

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Armed and Dangerous!” Longdogger Pete shouts as the fistdrop connects with the Dean’s forehead. “Johnny Dangerous just fought off Jay Hawke and let him know in no uncertain terms not to mess with a Secret Agent!”

 

“Bah, he just got lucky,” is King’s contribution. Meanwhile, Johnny dusts off his hands (still glaring at Hawke) and turns around-

 

*BAM!*

 

-into a brass knuckle-assisted right hand from Toxxic!

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Ha! Poetic justice!” King shouts as the Dady’O nightclub explodes in hatred for the World Champion. “That’s what you get for jumping Toxxic from behind on Sunday, Johnny!”

 

Toxxic smirks down at the semi-conscious figure of the Tag Champion, then looks over at Jay Hawke as his grin widens. Then the straight-edger replaces his brass knuckles in his pocket, ostentatiously dusts off his hands and rolls under the ropes, heading for the back and shouting ‘is there a chippy in this bloody town?’ as he goes.

 

“Fans, don’t go away!” Pete shouts. “After that explosive opening to the night we have a Hardcore Title rematch right after this break!”

 

 

FADE OUT

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SWF Storm returns in the beautiful Cancun, Mexico inside the one and only Dady-O’s nightclub. On the dance floor the ring sits the ring, the bars moved against the back walls. There’s also a skimpy steel barrier around the ring, and the elevated DJ Booth that towers over the timekeeper’s table. Instead of the announcing table Suicide King and Longdogger Pete sit at the bar in the back, LDP sits there shaking maracas with a sombrero fixed on the side of his head. Next to him King stares down at the half-chewed tequila worm.

 

“Be a man, finish it off!” King commands.

 

“No, I can’t, I had too much Absinthe last night to drink and I thought I heard it sing ‘La Cucaracha’,” LDP says with a burp. “Well welcome back folks! We have gone south of the border and find ourselves in one of the world’s hottest vacation spots- Cancun!”

 

“We also ditched our original venue after it got caught selling painkillers in their kid’s meal… so we’re here at Dady-O’s, one of Cancun’s premiere clubs,” King explains.

 

“That’s right King, its open bar, and I believe later on it will be wet t-shirt Friday!” LDP exclaims giddy as a schoolgirl.

 

“Awesome, where’s Sydney?”

 

“I hate you, I hate you oh-so-much,” LDP says. “Anyway we are still coming off the heels of Battleground 2005 which was an explosive show!” He gives the maraca a shake.

 

“Don’t make me find the Mexican Flag and get El Luchadore Magnifico on your ass,” King warns.

 

“But at that historical Battleground we saw Insane Luchador recapture the Hardcore Gamers’ Title from JJ Johnson!” LDP proclaims. “These two have been battling back and forth for hardcore rule and now they are going to battle one more time. But this time the stakes are higher than ever- in the first ever Montezuma’s Revenge!”

 

“Right, the risks here are higher than the Brink of Insanity those two took off the VIP section, higher than the insurance prices I have to pay, and there’s a historical background here. Montezuma the II was the Aztec ruler who rose to power at the prime of the Aztec’s rule. But as it always seems to happen- the white man showed up. That’s right, Hernan Cortes…”

 

“Not to be confused with Todd Cortez,” Pete interjects.

 

“Go have another shot; I’m trying to educate the ignorant! During the Exploration Age Cortes showed up and convinced them they were the Gods they prayed for. Yadda yadda yadda and Montezuma’s killed in a swerve. But before he died he left an awful curse for all white people who dare step foot into Mexico. He plagued the water with awful sanitation and forcing the whiteys to buy bottled water at ridiculous prices!” King finishes his spiel.

 

Funyon cuts the history lesson short.

 

“THIS MATCH IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE SWIRLIE… AND IT IS FOR THE HARDCORE GAMERS’ TITLE!”

 

“There’s only one way to win this match- a Mexican swirlie,” LDP explains.

 

“End of Everything” by Stereomud suddenly comes over the speakers and the club’s strobe lights alternate between red and white. JJ Johnson appears with arms stretched out, his wrestling tights boasting the Canadian flag, his hooded vest with the Maple leaf signifying his pride for his homeland. The fans’ jeers come pouring in from all directions as he begins his walk down the aisle.

 

“INTRODUCING YOUR CHALLENGER… FROM WINDSOR, ONTARIO WEIGHING IN AT 219 POUNDS… JAAAYYYYY-JJJAAAYYY JOOOHHHNNNSSSOOON!”

 

He’s indifferent to the reaction as he reaches ringside, stopping at the steel steps, throwing back his hood. His body still looks battered as he climbs up the steel steps and enters the ring. He hops onto the second turnbuckle and removes the vest then stretches his arms out once again.

 

“Remember these competitors haven’t had time to recover a hundred percent but these are two of the toughest our federation has to offer. JJ Johnson looks focused and we’ll see how Luchador looks in the aftermath of Battleground,” LDP says.

 

There’s a lingering silence before two drum beats followed by a grinding guitar riff invade the nightclub. “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains begins as the fans begin to scream their support for the HGC Champion.

 

“NOW… YOUR H-G-C CHAMPION… FROM EASTON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEIGHING IN AT 209 POUNDS- HE IS YOUR PSYCHOTIC HERO… THE INSAAANNNEEE LLLUUUCCCHHHHAAADOOOOR!” Funyon’s announcement acts as a catalyst for the cheers.

 

“Hey, you know what’s funny?” LDP asks his partner.

 

“What?”

 

“In Mexico it’s usually spelled ‘luchadore’ with an e… but Insane Luchador has never ever used an e!”

 

“Really?” King humors his tipsy commentary partner.

 

“Yeah, not too many seem to have caught on,” he responds.

 

They stare at the entrance aisle but there’s no sign of the HGC Champion.

 

“Maybe he’s at home crying?” King suggests.

 

But one section of the audience bursts into cheers as the Insane Luchador ploughs through the packed crowd. Johnson’s back is turned as he keeps staring at the entrance. The Insane Luchador stops and suddenly pulls out a shot glass, downing the liquor, before continuing his ambush.

 

“Good to know his priorities are straight,” King sarcastically says.

 

“Hey, I’ll take whatever IL had!” LDP calls out. There’s a brief pause. “No, I don’t want a shot of Everclear with Tabasco sauce… that sick, sick man.”

 

Insane Luchador hops over the steel barricade with his HGC belt slung over his shoulder wearing his usual khaki cargoes, black skate shoes, the wildly spiked hair, a black t-shirt, and finally a huge grin plastered on his face.

 

“IL can’t just jump his opponent, what kind of champion is that!” King protests at IL’s tactic.

 

“What do you think happened at Battleground?” LDP rebuttals between hiccups.

 

“I hear a Joker’s Wild does wonder for hiccups,” King sourly responds.

 

Insane Luchador quietly tosses his belt over to the timekeeper’s table and then slides into the ring. Now ditching the stealth he charges forward- smacking his opponent down from behind with a short-armed clothesline!

 

“Eye for an eye,” LDP says.

 

Kivell calls the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“At least Johnson can rest easy knowing there’s no spot with the height where Luchador could possibly attempt murder-suicide,” King muses.

 

JJ Johnson stumbles forward but he attempts recovery by springing back with an elbow, but the Luchador jukes to the left to avoid it, sending a left hook lose. It smacks Johnson and IL grabs his wrist, whipping him towards the ropes. He comes charging back at the Luchador who drops to his stomach; JJ hops over, and bounces against the other ropes. Meanwhile the Luchador charges but Johnson uses the momentum to his advantage- leaping out and smacking the Champion with a dropkick. He goes flying back before crumbling to the canvas and slowly picking himself up. The challenger presses the attack as he charges up and smacks Luchador with a kick to the ribs, keeping him down on the mat. He then bends down and as Luchador gets to all fours he wraps his arms around the Champion’s chest. He hoists him into the air and off his feet before turning around then falling down, smacking him onto his stomach. He uses the advantage position as he mounts Luchador, grabbing for his neck. But the Luchador waves his arms in defense as JJ Johnson takes a difference approach and begins to send down strikes to the back of his head!

 

“Oh! Johnson has never been one to show mercy and I’m thinking all these matches are starting to accumulate into something more personal,” LDP says.

 

Rickmen covers the back of his head with his arms as he tries to worm his way out. But Johnson’s legs clutch Luchador by his ribs as he continues to rain down with shots to the back of his head and to the side of his face. The hits’ frequencies gradually slow down as Johnson gets to his knees. He grabs the Luchador by the back of his head and lifts him along for the ride. With the two on their feet Johnson wraps his arms for the waistlock and looks ready to snap his opponent over with the German suplex! He begins to lift up, getting ready to throw his weight back, but Luchador’s hands latch onto the rope.

 

“What a coward!” King proclaims. “Can’t take a little German Suplex?”

 

“Well with Johnson’s power it’s more than an average German Suplex,” LDP points out.

 

Johnson tugs back even harder but the Luchador now wraps an arm around the ropes. The challenger takes a swift step forward and bounces Luchador’s body against the rope, surprising his opponent. But Luchador doesn’t let go as Johnson tries a different approach. He ducks down and puts his shoulders underneath the Luchador’s legs then stands up in the Electric Chair position! The HGC Champion is taken completely off guard as JJ Johnson has him lifted in the air. He takes a step forward and releases his grip on Luchador’s legs, bending over and sending the Luchador flipping to the outside. He smacks against the nightclub’s floor on his back and wheezes as the fans jeer.

 

“Luchador gets dumped like a dump truck would dump if it had to...” LDP tries but gives up. “Bartender!”

 

“Have you ever considered hanging out with Fasaki?” King asks.

 

Johnson hops onto the top rope and leaps off with his legs tucked underneath his body and knees coming down towards the Luchador!

 

“JJ is going to use Luchador’s kneedrop,” LDP says.

 

He rapidly descends but the Luchador rolls away and JJ is forced to lean back in order to save his knees. He hits back-first against the club’s floor instead of shattering his kneecaps. Luchador slowly stands up and grins as Johnson quickly rolls to his feet. The two collide in a grapple. Insane Luchador sends up a knee but the experience JJ gets a knee up to counter it. He then lets go of the lock-up and bends down to snatch Luchador by the leg! His arm wraps around his leg as he tugs him and then uses his free arm to wrap in a headlock. Luchador sends weak jabs to his opponent’s ribs but he promptly snaps back and throws his opponent. The HGC Champion is launched into the air before he crashes, bounces, and then gets stopped by the steel steps. Johnson scrambles back to his feet and charges toward his downed foe. He cracks Luchador in the ribs with a kick as his body rolls against the steel steps. Johnson grabs him by his spiked hair and tugs him to his feet. JJ Johnson keeps a safe distance from a headbutt, learning from Battleground, but still containing Luchador with a lock-up. He grabs IL by the chest with his arms tightly wrapped around, lifting him into the air.

 

“Belly to belly slam coming up,” LDP says.

 

Luchador frees an arm but sends an elbow but it’s an exercise in futility. The challenger slams him down hard onto the steel steps. There’s a moan of sympathy from the crowd before it dissolves into cheers. Luchador flops off the steel steps as Johnson sends a stomp to his gut. He then looks at the ring apron in temptation before bending over to explore. He lifts the ring apron and fishes an arm underneath as Luchador flops over to his stomach and slowly begins to push himself up. Johnson continues his hunt for a weapon as Luchador begins to get to his knees. The HGC Champion stands up as JJ Johnson pulls out his signature kendo stick! But before he can capitalize the Insane Luchador grabs the top portion of the disjointed steel steps, bringing it right down onto the top of his opponent’s head!

 

“Oh Christ, that hurts!” LDP suddenly yells.

 

“Yeah getting hit by steel steps is a fun ride,” King sarcastically says.

 

“No, no… I mean this flaming shot didn’t quite cool down enough. But, uh, steel steps hurt too!”

 

“Alright we are never going to any open bar again,” King concludes.

 

Johnson crumbles to the ground as Luchador drops the steel steps and instead opts for the kendo stick. He holds it one hand and stands his opponent up with the other. He then draws back the kendo stick before letting it fly- smacking his opponent in the chest! The challenger stumbles backwards and Luchador comes charging after. He leaps into the air and instead of using his arm for the clothesline he uses the kendo stick! The impact floors his opponent and nearly snaps the kendo stick. The HGC Champion stands up and looks around the nightclub over the sea of people, looking for the restroom.

 

“Not so prepared are we?” King taunts.

 

“Man I could really know where they are too,” LDP says.

 

He gives up on his search for the restroom as he grabs his opponent, lifts him to his feet, and then sends him smacking against the guard rail! The rail lurches back from impact and Luchador grabs his opponent again. This time he barks at the fans to move, who are quite happy to, as he tosses his opponent over the guardrail. He looks to his right where there’s the high DJ booth, to the left where there’s a bar against the wall. In frustration he picks back up his opponent who greets him with a jab to the face. Luchador’s head whips back and JJ Johnson nails a roundhouse kick that sends his opponent stumbling back. He presses forward and the Luchador starts swinging wildly- the two beginning to go toe-to-toe.

 

“Last time these two went into a brawl like this JJ Johnson got the advantage,” LDP recalls. “Hey, think we’ll see Allison topless this time around?”

 

“Contain the ‘dogger,” King disgustedly replies.

 

As the Luchador gets the advantage the two begin to stagger to the left as security begins to clear an area for the action. Somebody reaches over and tries to hand the Luchador an empty beer bottle but he gets smacked with a hard haymaker by Johnson. He sways as if ready to fall and Johnson grabs the bottle. He winds up and lets it rip- smacking Luchador in side of the face.

 

“That’s got to kill!” LDP laughs.

 

He falls to the floor as Johnson picks him up by his hair and forces him to tag along. He walks towards the bar where the bartender has to bail and the people clear. The huge oak shelf of various booze bottles are only a few feet away as they reach the main, oak bar. Luchador gets his arm wrapped over the back of Johnson and pushes him away. He lies over the bar and the HGC Champion sends an elbow to the back of his head, making his opponent’s head smack against the bar. On the other end of the bar LDP and Suicide King sit.

 

“Maybe I can get some revenge for that car damage,” King wonders.

 

Luchador leaps onto the bar and slides to the other side, promptly grabbing a bottle of booze. He swings it quickly but Johnson ducks. The challenger grabs the barstool in rebuttal and as he stands up he swings the barstool! Luchador is sent reeling back into the shelf as hard booze bottles shower from overhead.

 

“It’s an alcohol shower!” LDP declares.

 

Johnson begins to advance again swinging the barstool from the other side but missing. It smacks against the bar, however, and kills its momentum. Luchador snatches it and he holds the legs in his hands, thrusting the seat into Johnson’s face! He throws the stool to the other side as Johnson reels back. But the pugnacious challenger comes approaching again at the foot of the bar and Luchador desperately acts. He grabs one of the beer tap’s hoses and sprays his opponent in the face! Johnson slowly backs away from the spray as IL stops the attack, hoping onto the air and leaping off with a Crossbody. The challenger stands ready and catches the Luchador. He runs to the bar and smacks Luchador’s back against it then hoists him over his shoulder. He charges forward then drops to the floor with a powerslam! With the tables turned JJ Johnson snatches the bar stool and stands above Luchador, smacking it against his ribs. The jeers become overwhelming as IL gets assaulted again. Johnson comes down for the third time but Luchador rolls away and to one knee. His opponent simply throws the stool at Luchador and it connects, sending him back onto the floor. He grunts and then rolls to his feet, turning around-

 

“Luchador gets floored by a great clothesline!” LDP screams out then follows with a hiccup.

 

Luchador is plastered on the floor and the challenger grabs him, dragging him to his feet. He then whips him towards the elevated DJ booth that looks more like a tower. The path remains clear as Luchador makes it halfway before regaining his control. He turns around and instinctively ducks, avoiding a flying clothesline! His opponent soars over him before landing impressively with a roll right back to his feet.

 

“That’s talent folks,” King says.

 

Luchador looks exasperated at Johnson who just turns around and charges. But this time IL throws his own roundhouse kick to JJ! Johnson barely even flinches but it gives Luchador a chance to come lunging at him. He nails him in the gut with a knee then sends a knee to his face. Johnson is sent flailing back and the Insane Luchador charges again. He spins in a circle and throws a back fist but Johnson ducks underneath and meets Luchador as he spins full circle with a mini-shoulder to the gut. He then quickly jukes behind the Luchador and wraps his arms around him with the waistlock! He goes for the German suplex attempt again but the Insane Luchador grapevines their legs. He then sends an elbow to the temple that cripples the waistlock. But Johnson instead scoops him up at a high angle and goes for the backdrop! But Luchador throws his weight back and flips off, onto his feet, and behind the challenger. He quickly wraps an arm around the neck of his opponent then drops down with a reverse DDT! The fans go nuts as Luchador rolls right back to his feet. Yet he’s still unable to find the bathroom.

 

“He could just ask,” LDP says.

 

“See, even a drunken idiot can figure that out… but not IL,” King taunts.

 

“Hey! I’m not drunk!

 

 

Or an idiot!”

 

 

 

Luchador swears and steps over his opponent to view the DJ booth. Like a tower it rises up with a staircase behind it and it overlooks the corner of the ring barricade where the timekeeper’s table lies below. He smirks maliciously as he turns around to grab his opponent. But Johnson throws a boot out that sends Luchador’s plan to a halt. The challenger scrambles to his feet and throws a karate kick to the Luchador’s ribs. He tries to defend himself but Johnson immediately gets the advantage as he begins a string of strikes. A palm strike sends the HGC Champion stumbling back, a jab that dazes him, and then a hook to keep him settled. As he regains his senses he sees the challenger charging at him before abruptly halting, throwing his leg up!

 

“Yakuza kick!” King cries.

 

“Doesn’t look good for Luchador,” LDP admits.

 

The HGC Champion gets nailed right in the chest and he’s propelled back as if shoot by a cannon. With absolutely no control he goes reeling back before finally losing all balancing, falling down at the feet of the DJ booth. Johnson observes his surroundings and draws the same conclusion of his opponent. He swoops down and like a predator gets hold of his prey, then throws him to the foot of the stairs behind. From high up above a familiar face peers over the tower and swears. At the bottom of the steps suddenly something stops Johnson’s attack. Allison Onita comes screeching with only a towel to cover her chest as Flesher follows, stomping away with a Risk board folded up in his arms.

 

“BYOOBS!”

 

“Flesher may be the most unlucky man next to Flik,” King says.

 

“Who?” LDP asks.

 

“…I don’t know, that was odd,” King says. “Maybe I need to start drinking.”

 

With the two lovebirds gone JJ Johnson focuses back on the Insane Luchador. He looks down and sees the Luchador standing up at the fifth step and he leaps down the narrow staircase with a flying knee! Johnson crumbles to the floor as the HGC Champion stands up, smirks, and then grabs his opponent. He lifts him up and heaves him up the stairs, reaching the halfway point.

 

“These two really need to, you know, stop attempting murder,” King says.

 

“Worse case we cross the American border, with presents that others want… it could be a border run!” LDP proclaims.

 

“That’s just ridiculous,” King replies.

 

“It’s not that high up,” LDP speculates.

 

“Yeah but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to fall down,” King snaps back.

 

Johnson tries to get up but Luchador grabs him by the arm and drags him up the remainder of the stairs. The two reach the top deck, bare of any equipment, with absolutely no type of railings towards the edge where the table is below. It only hovers about ten feet off the ground and the deck’s space is constricted. Johnson slowly begins to get up but Luchador has an idea- he begins to use the height advantage to spot the restrooms. He notices that between the ring, barricade, and a throng of fans there are the two bathrooms. He grunts and turns around to grab his opponent-

 

But instead gets an elbow! He stumbles back and dangerously close to the edge where JJ tries to follow up. Down below the SWF employees clear off the table and get themselves away. Above Luchador saves himself with a headbutt. He grabs Johnson and spins around, in position to toss him off! But the challenger sends an elbow and luckily wiggles free. He stands behind the Luchador and sends a hard shove that sends the HGC Champion teetering near the edge. He charges towards his opponent but Luchador takes a huge step out and launches out a super kick! The fans explode in cheers as Johnson flails back before tripping over the top step, following down a few stairs. Luchador quickly follows up as he grabs his opponent and stands him up. He looks around before smirking and locking in the full nelson!

 

“Encore from Battleground!” LDP yells.

 

“Yeah but I don’t give a damn about this club’s condition,” King adds.

 

Luchador begins to force his opponent towards the open edge but JJ Johnson struggles. He spins around and smacks Luchador’s back hard against the railing as his upper body dangerously bends over. The HGC Champion releases his hold in an attempt to get free but Johnson sends his back into Luchador, ready to send him flipping over the railing! Luchador’s legs swing back and over as he flips over and off the deck. There’s a collective gasp as the Insane Luchador desperately grabs onto the railing as if he was in Cliffhanger. He quickly pulls himself up towards Johnson and swings over the railing. JJ Johnson growls as the Insane Luchador didn’t make the plunge.

 

“He was that close!” King whines.

 

The Insane Luchador throws out a kick but his opponent catches it! He shoves it down and spins the Luchador around, getting the waistlock in! JJ Johnson looks behind him to the open railing and he gets ready. But the Luchador uses an elbow and some strength to break free. He turns around and smacks him opponent with a huge right hook that sends him reeling. Now JJ Johnson is the one ready to fall off as Insane Luchador charges at him to seal the deal! The challenger takes a huge step forward to avoid the edge as he ducks underneath a clothesline! He throws a shoulder to the Luchador’s gut then quickly stands up straight and locking in a front facelock! IL struggles as his opponent gets a handful of cargo pants, ready for a suplex.

 

“Definitely doesn’t look good for the Insane Luchador!” LDP cries.

 

The Insane Luchador grapevines his leg to prevent his fall as the two struggles, inching closer and closer to the edge. Finally JJ Johnson frees his other leg and takes advantage- he snaps over and throws the Luchador off the edge with the snap suplex!

 

FUCK YOU JAY-JAY!

 

FUCK YOU JAY-JAY!

 

The Insane Luchador, Andrew Rickmen, plummets down and smashes through the table! It explodes from the impact as wooden shrapnel seem to fly in every direction.

 

“Holy wine-coolers! This time Luchador takes the plunge!” LDP proclaims.

 

The chant continues as the Insane Luchador flops over to his stomach. Between wheezes there’s a small laugh.

 

“Damn it, here we go again! You got him stuck in insanity mode!” King complains.

 

The challenger peers over the edge to see the destruction done only to see the Insane Luchador on his stomach and already attempting to get up. He calculates the drop down and slowly rolls his shoulders.

 

“Oh what the hell is he thinking?” King asks.

 

LDP finishes another shot and starts the explanation. “JJ Johnson is a one-upper, he adapts to anybody else’s style in an attempt to outdo them. If you want to be like the Insane Luchador, you have to be flippin’ crazy!”

 

“Sadly that makes more sense than anything you’ve said sober,” King jeers.

 

He takes a step back and then bravely holds out his arms, falling down from the DJ booth! The fans’ chant stops as he comes towards the Luchador with his signature diving headbutt! As JJ descends the Insane Luchador flops back over to his stomach only to see the falling JJ! Taken totally off guard he can’t take any action as JJ connects with him in the gut! Luchador yells out with a little hint of laughter at the end as Johnson rolls away from the wooden carnage and tries to recover.

 

“He hits the diving headbutt!” LDP yells.

 

FUCK YOU JAY-JAY!

 

The chant kicks back up.

 

JJ Johnson seems to move in slow motion as he rolls to his feet, leaning against the steel barricade to recover. But it’s clear his eyes are set on the bathroom’s entrance. He ducks down and tiredly grabs the Insane Luchador. He lets go of the Luchador as he gets over the barricade then drags the Luchador up and into the crowd as well. He stares at the bathroom less than twenty feet away but the fans are resilient.

 

“What is this? A Disney movie?” King sputters.

 

Johnson lets go of the Luchador, who falls to all fours, and finds an easy solution. He walks towards them and the loyal IL fans dart like roaches exposed to light. He smiles at the simplicity and turns back around. In disbelief he sees the Luchador back onto his feet but swaying as if he was drunk. Johnson lunges out and grabs the Luchador by the head and hair, throwing him at the bathroom’s door. He smacks against the swinging door and falls into the bathroom as Johnson follows. Inside the cramped bathroom there’s two urinals, a sink, a mirror, and a stall. The Luchador crawls towards the stall and JJ Johnson gives him a kick to send him flopping onto his back. The challenger picks up Insane Luchador and for safe measures smacks his head against the frame of the stall’s door before kicking it open. The golden ticket out, the toilet, sits right there as Johnson can nearly taste the victory.

 

“Man that can’t seem good either,” LDP says.

 

“Why?”

 

“We’re in Mex-”

 

“Hey! How about those Maxi pads!” King tries to recover LDP’s near racist moment.

 

He kicks the rim up and begins to push the Luchador down towards the less-than-clean toilet bowl. His nose seems to hover over the rim of the toilet bowl as he lets one hand flush the toilet.

 

“Ha, buys him time! Can’t win with a proper flush!” LDP reminds.

 

People crowd around the bathroom to see as Matthew Kivell worms his way towards the bathroom. But the Insane Luchador plants an arm on each side of the stall to keep himself from losing.

 

“Who does he think he is? Samson?” King asks.

 

He lets one arm free and smacks his opponent with an elbow strike! He then stands up straight and shoves his opponent away, grabbing him by his head. He takes a few steps away from the stall and smacks the back of Johnson’s head against the mirror. The challenger clutches Luchador by the throat as Luchador continues to push against him as they try to get the upper hand as the toilet bowl refills. Johnson suddenly pushes with all his might and the two stumble into the stall. But with Luchador’s back turned he trips to the ground and Johnson’s head hits the lid of the toilet. Luchador quickly takes advantage as he scrambles up, using the limited space to leap up and hit a cramped kneedrop to his opponent’s back! He smacks his head against the stall’s other wall as he remains on his opponent’s back and a splash is heard! Johnson’s head is lodged in the toilet bowl rather well as the Insane Luchador seems to take his time. His opponent struggles but the weight of Luchador keeps him submerged. Finally Luchador sarcastically yells-

 

“REMEMBER THE ALAMODOME!”

 

FFFLLLLUUUSSSHHHHHHH

 

“That was also the sound of JJ’s dignity swirling down too!” King laughs.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“YOUR WINNER AND STILL H-G-C CHAMPION… YOUR PSYCHOTIC HERO… THE INNSSAAANNNEEE LLLUUUCCCHHHHHAAAAADOOOR!”

 

“That’s all we have,” Pete hiccups then burps. Suddenly his head smacks against the bar as he passes out.

 

“Right. Luchador wins and the world’s not fair, good night!”

 

-Fade to black showing employees trying to free Johnson’s head-

Edited by Chuck Woolery

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Backstage, ahead of his first ever International Championship defense, Landon Maddix looks far from prepared. Still in jeans and his Cheat 2 Win t-shirt despite his upcoming match, the International Champion stands in one of the hallways of Dady'O Nightclub's backstage facilities, glancing around impatiently. With a check of his watch, Maddix sighs before finally saying to hell with this and walking off...

 

 

...getting little more than a few steps, before bumping into Megan Skye, who has clearly just arrived and is carrying her bags over her shoulder. An awkward look up from Megan is greeted by awkward silence from Landon.

 

"Uh...hi."

 

"Listen, Megan, we need to ta..."

 

"You wanna get a coffee?" Megan buts in with a far too shrill tone. "Let's...let's get a coffee. Is Todd here yet? Is he good? Is he okay?"

 

"I think it's a little late for coffee." sighs Landon.

 

"Huh? It's only eight twenty five..."

 

"You know what I mean."

 

Megan looks sheepishly at the floor, Maddix wiping at his face. Clearly, this is a situation neither would like to be in. And neither really know how to deal with.

 

"Look, we need to talk this out." Maddix finally pipes up. "If we just let it stew then...well, apart from our friendship...it's going to mess everything up. I've just got back on track, Megs. I really don't need this going into tonight, I really don't. So...I'll be honest...I don't remember much of what happened Sunday night. Infact, my mind's still drawing blanks on all this now."

 

"Funny you should use that expression..."

 

Turning a bright shade of red, Maddix looks at his feet, as Megan manages a wry smile.

 

"Relax, I'm joking."

 

"Good...I...I mean, 'oh'."

 

"We..."

 

"No, I actually do mean good. I mean, if we were going to do it, I'm glad we did it well. That is to say...you know...I'm glad I pleasured you...PLEASED...pleased you. Pleased. But, hopefully I didn't please you...too much."

 

"I know. Those walls were paper-thin...I'd hate to think what the people in the next room must have thought."

 

Again, Maddix begins to turn a bright shade of red in his embarrassment. Embarrassment hardly made any better as Megan chuckles away to herself.

 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you."

 

"Ooh, I did, yes."

 

"...look, Megan. I don't know what you think this is leading to, but...well...Megs, I'm not usually a..uh...a one night stand kinda guy, but...you know, I really don't know...how to say this...but..."

 

"You want to put this all behind us and chalk it up to a drunken mistake?"

 

Maddix smiles nervously.

 

"...basically, yes."

 

"Consider it done."

 

With a smile back, Megan kisses Maddix on the cheek, before reaching up to Landon's shoulder and patting the International Title belt that sits upon it.

 

"Now...lets go retain this title, huh?"

 

"Lets."

 

The two walk off down the hallway, smiling and arm in arm, all seemingly forgotten.

 

"So...what was I, on a one to ten scale?"

 

"Uh...I'd say about a 7."

 

"Well, I did have a bad knee I guess."

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“Last week King,” begins Longdogger Pete, “I did an interview with Ejiro and Melissa Fasaki about their recent partnership for SWF Magazine.”

 

“And why do we care about that?” replies The King of Heart, “That rag is just a big commercial for the federation that maybe increases our revenue by 2.76 %. I would have chopped it off while I was in charge, but it gave me an excuse to get our ladies in bikinis on a regular basis.”

 

“Well,” replies LDP, “We did get some shots of Melissa for the cover…”

 

“SCORE!”

 

“But the interview was really interesting and since we have almost no matches to show off for tonight and we taped the damn thing anyway.”

 

“You taped a magazine interview… why?”

 

“We tape our wrestlers sleeping in their hotels! We tape them virtually at all times!”

 

“Well whatever,” sighs the King as he pulls out a cigarette, “it gives me a chance to get in a smoke. See you in five to ten.”

 

“Lets go to the tape…”

 

The scene flashes away from the number one announce team just half of them sitting in a big leather recliner across from his subjects for this time. Splayed on opposite sides of a long couch sit Ejiro and Melissa. Sitting with his arms crossed, Ejiro sits with his arms crossed over his stomach as his mini-skirt clad sister sits in a far more… suggestive way.

 

PETE: I would just like to thank the Fasaki family for taking time out of their schedule to have a brief word with SWF Magazine: the magazine with ATTITUDE!

 

EJIRO: What I wouldn’t give for something without attitude.

 

MELISSA: Oh, be nice Jerry! Thanks so much for having us out here for the magazine Pete and for putting us on the cover too! It is such an honor.

 

PETE: Why you are quite welcome Melissa. So why don’t you tell us a little bit about the changes you’ve managed to make in your brother since the last time you saw him?

 

MELISSA: Well its really quite simple really. Ejiro is and has always been one of the best wrestlers in the world but instead of working just as hard as he can, he always took shortcuts. He would go to the Magnificent Seven for help or even cheat on his own. My whole point to him was that he could never prove that he was the best unless he beat people even up one-on-one.

 

EJIRO: Even though hitting people with a chain is so much easier… right Pete? (chuckles)

 

PETE: I remember getting hit with that thing once… well I almost remember it from watching the video a few times.

 

MELISSA: But Ejiro just doesn’t really have to resort to that sort of action to be a world-class wrestler. He just needs to have more faith in himself.

 

EJIRO: Because I’m so down on myself you see.

 

MELISSA: Exactly! He just needed some confidence.

 

PETE: And so Melissa is just staying around to keep you focused on being more confident?

 

MELISSA: I’m here for moral and emotional support.

 

EJIRO: And so I can keep an eye on her.

 

MELISSA: What?

 

EJIRO: (shrugs) Dad doesn’t want you to be a ring rat.

 

MELISSA: WHAT? DAD doesn’t know what a ring rat is!

 

EJIRO: His exact words were wrestling whore, but you get the idea Pete.

 

PETE: So Ejiro now that you’re back, what are your long-term plans as far as your wrestling career is concerned?

 

EJIRO: My plans? My plans are the same as they have always been Pete. I’m going to go out and win so much that the powers that be have no choice but to give me a shot at the World Heavyweight title and whoever has it at the time.

 

PETE: Why not just come right out and challenge (current World Champion) Toxxic for the title?

 

EJIRO: Because everyone does that Pete. I’m sure that by the end of Storm this week, seven people will have come out and told Toxxic that they are coming for him. I’m not interested in getting into a shoving match with all the other guys in the back. Ejiro Fasaki earns his title shots by winning… which not everyone else lining up can say.

 

PETE: What do you mean by that?

 

EJIRO: Look at Battleground and the people that are going to come out after Toxxic. Mak Francis chokes at every opportunity including the pay per view we just had. Johnny Dangerous is coming off losing his belt but probably thinks attacking Toxxic at the end makes up for it. Spike Jenkins, well who knows what he’s doing from week to week? I’m the one who actually did his job and won! What do those other guys have over me? They just have some sort of personal grudge.

 

PETE: Personal grudges can make for some good matches…

 

EJIRO: Good matches make for good matches Pete. All the back-story in the world didn’t make you a good hand.

 

MELISSA: JERRY! You apologize right NOW!

 

EJIRO: Are you serious?

 

MELISSA: Jerrrrrreeeee.

 

EJIRO: Okay MOM. I’m sorry that I may have intonated that you were a bad wrestler who got over with size and power but little skill Pete.

 

PETE: Anyway putting that aside Ejiro, do have anything to say to Toxxic in particular?

 

EJIRO: Sure… the fact of the matter is that the sawed off runt is the best right now and no one else can make that claim. While the rest of us wake up with bruises and bumps, Toxxic wakes up knowing that his bruises and bumps are all worth it. Because right now, he can look out over the sea of professional wrestling and say, I’m better than everyone else and I can prove it because he has the belt. He’s not hiding from you or me or anyone else… he knows that he is going to go in that ring and win. And knowing… is half the battle. The problem is the other half of the battle…

 

PETE: Which is?

 

EJIRO: The battle. And when I finally get my shot, I will do anything necessary…

 

MELISSA: Ahem.

 

EJIRO: I will do anything necessary within the bounds of wrestling law… to win.

 

PETE: Thank you for your time Fasaki Family.

 

MELISSA: My pleasure!

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SWF Storm rolls onward. In the backstage area stands Ben Hardy and Arch Griffon. They stand in front of a plasma screen TV that shows a continuous loop of lighting strikes. Hardy dresses in an SWF polo shirt and khakis, while Griffon wears a forest green long sleeve shirt and blue jeans.

 

“I am here with Archie Griffon, who was victorious at SWF Battleground last Sunday. Archie, who are you holding up? You lost quite a bit of blood and are facing legal action from the Motion Picture Association of America.” Hardy says.

 

Griffon looks blankly at Hardy, and then rolls up the sleeve on his left arm. Lines of minor scars cover his lower arms. He pulls the sleeve back down and gives Ben a shrug. Hardy looks grossed out by the wounds he was present for. “The MPAA can’t do a thing. I spoke that line in a French accent, unlike in the movie, where it was … something different. Val Kilmish, I suppose,” rambles Archie.

 

“Word around the company is that after your match against Koran, he disappeared. What do you think about this?” asks Hardy.

 

“I believe I did everyone a favor. It is one thing to have your own beliefs and opinions. To express them intelligently and have evidence to back up claims. Muhammed doesn’t have these qualities. He speaks without thought. No matter if you’re liked or hated by the fans … if you’re a selfish scumbag or an altruistic sap, you are not going to like listening to this man ramble incoherently. But he is in the past. If he comes back and wants to have it out on more time, I would be obliged to bathe the mat in his blood once more,” says Arch, going for that Emmy award he has always wanted with that drawn out monologue.

 

“Finally, what are your plans for the future?” asks Ben.

 

“I want to get some gold,” Griffon states firmly.

 

Arch gives Hardy a nod and abruptly exits.

 

Storm fades out into commercial.

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Pete: “Welcome back to SWF Storm, and we are about ready for our huge main event. Landon Maddix scored a hard-fought victory over Johnny Dangerous this past Sunday night to win the International Championship, but he gets no time to rest as he makes his first defense against Jay Hawke.”

 

King: “And it’s pretty simple, Pete. A lot of people have written Jay Hawke off in this match, despite the fact that he earned this title shot with a great victory over Manson at Battleground. And since he’s already proven that he’s willing to cheat to win…and since he’s done pretty much everything possible to get the win the last few times out…he should have plenty of motivation to win this match.”

 

Pete: “What sort of strategy should each man use here to walk out of this nightclub with a win?”

 

King: “For Maddix, he needs to wrestle a mistake-free match. And that’s because of what Jay Hawke should do to win…work the knee that Johnny Dangerous injured at Battleground. Maddix isn’t going to be able to fly around the ring. His mobility’s going to be lessened. Add all that to the fact that Jay Hawke is just better to begin with…I’ll predict it right now, Pete. This title’s changing hands tonight.”

 

Pete: “But working on the knee would be counterproductive to Hawke’s finisher, the Wing Span. That’s a move that works the shoulders and the neck.”

 

King: “Maybe, but you know something, Pete? If Maddix can’t stand up, then Jay Hawke’s going to have all night to work the shoulders and neck.”

 

Pete: “And that ought to be Landon Maddix’s target as well. If he can execute the Land of Nod, he can make anybody pass out.”

 

King: “He’d better make Jay Hawke pass out if he wants to win the title, because I doubt Hawke’s going to quit.”

 

Pete: “Well, don’t forget that when we opened the show tonight, Johnny Dangerous came out and leveled Jay Hawke with that Johnny Kick before hitting the Armed and Dangerous. What effect does that have on the challenger?”

 

King: “Dangerous didn’t hurt Jay Hawke earlier. He humiliated him a little bit and probably pissed him off quite a bit, but if I know Jay Hawke, he’ll be focused tonight. And if he’s focused, that title is definitely changing hands tonight. And it’s probably changing hands either way.”

 

Pete: “And we’ll see what strategy each man employs as we go up to Funyon for the introductions!”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your MAIN EVENT of the evening! It is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF International Heavyweight Championship!”

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” begins to blare over the PA. The cheers turn into jeers as Jay Hawke makes his way into the makeshift arena set up on the dance floor, flashing colored lights making it hard to see exactly how beautiful that sequined black and purple robe really is. He looks at the crowd -- and the setting -- in disgust before making his way to the ring.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger … from the Hall of Fame City in Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Jay Hawke walks up the steel steps onto the apron, wipes his feet on the bottom of the apron, then steps through the ropes, making the “I want the belt” hand motion as the crowd voices its displeasure. Hawke shoots an ugly look at the crowd and flips them off, wondering the whole time if the Mexican crowd can even speak English.

 

King: “Look at the eyes, Pete. Look at how he’s looking at that crowd. He’s focused. He’s ready. He’s your new champion. I can feel it.”

 

Pete: “I think the anger will end up working against him, but there’s only one way to find out.

 

Before Jay Hawke can remove his robe, the music fades out, and we hear a familiar voice come over the PA…

 

"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"

 

...WAAAAAHHHHH...

 

*DUM DUM*

 

 

"YYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

As suddenly, "Megalomaniac" by Incubus pierces the crowd's growing silence and brings the Texan natives to their feet! Wasting little time, the challenger bursts through the curtains … as much as one can with a bad knee, at any rate … and fires up the crowd, as Megan follows out behind him. Maddix turns to her and the two exchange a confident high-five, before Maddix limps down the ramp tagging hands.

 

Funyon: "And his opponent! Accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye! From Huron, South Dakota...weighing in at two hundred, twenty pounds. He represents Martial Law...the former three-time SWF ICTV Champion... The current SWF International Heavyweight Champion … LAAAAAAAANNDDOOOOOONN!... "LA CUCARACHA!"... MAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXX!!!!!!"

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

The crowd erupts at the announcement of Landon’s name as he stops in the aisle to say hello to one of the SWF’s regular fans from Texas, who made a road trip to attend tonight’s show. And that alone might be the mistake that costs him the title. Because in the ring, Jay Hawke finally removes his robe, but not before taking a lead pipe from the pocket. Hawke slides underneath the bottom rope and charges Landon from behind, clubbing him in the injured knee with the pipe a la Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan. The crowd boos vehemently as Landon Maddix falls to the floor screaming in agony. Not missing a beat, Jay Hawke pulls the pipe across Landon’s throat, “trying to choke the life out of him before the match even starts,” as Pete tells us.

 

King: “What do you mean trying to choke him? He is choking the life out of him before the match even starts!”

 

Senior referee Matthew Kivell heads over to them, practically begging Jay Hawke to stop choking him and get it back in the ring. Hawke simply shouts “You can’t disqualify me on Storm!” and continues to choke his opponent down.

 

Pete: “This man will do anything to get that International Championship, including cut the air away from the champion!”

 

King: “You know the deal! You do whatever you have to do to win the match!”

 

Pete: “Within the confines of the rules!”

 

King: “Exactly! And tonight, there are no rules! Choke him, Jay!”

 

Jay Hawke finally releases the chokehold, but not before making a move toward Megan Skye that sends her scurrying away. Jay Hawke then drags Landon Maddix toward the ring, still carrying the lead pipe in one hand. The Dean rolls La Cucaracha into the ring, then slides in underneath the bottom rope.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

With both men in the ring, the match is officially underway, and Jay Hawke decides he doesn’t want to work too hard tonight. He lies down with his back on Maddix’s chest, counting along with Kivell:

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR--NO!

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Pete: “Maddix kicked out! Jay Hawke went for the cheap victory right off the bat after choking the life out of Maddix on the floor, but the time they spent getting back into the ring gave Landon just enough time to recover!”

 

King: “But it’s only a matter of time before Jay Hawke gets the pin. He’s left Landon too hurt to last for very long tonight.”

 

Never let it be said that Jay Hawke isn’t completely aware of his situation at all times. He again chokes Landon Maddix with the pipe, and there’s nothing the referee can do except ask Hawke to stop doing it. Ten, fifteen, twenty seconds go by, and Hawke finally removes the pipe from Maddix’s throat, only to feint a backhand to Kivell that sends the referee falling back into the corner. Jay Hawke casually tosses the lead pipe to the mat, then turns back toward the champion and begins striking him with a series of knee drops, alternating between a knee to the throat and a knee to the leg.

 

King: “Do you notice the strategy, Pete? He goes for the knee to keep Maddix grounded, then he goes to the throat to set up the Wing Span! A two-pronged attack from the last-ever USJL champion, and he’s got this title in the bag! I love it!”

 

Jay Hawke gets back to his feet, then drops a leg across the head and neck of the International Champion. Into a quick cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

Jay Hawke hooks the leg.

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Pete: “Landon Maddix still with some fight left in him!”

 

King: “I don’t know about that. Nobody ever accused Landon Maddix of not having a survival instinct, and I think instinct was what caused the kickout there!”

 

Jay Hawke goes to pick up Landon Maddix. He locks in a front facelock, twisting Landon’s head in an odd position. Landon throws a couple of feeble right hands into the midsection, but Jay tightens his grip on the hold to prevent the comeback. Landon falls to his knees as Megan Skye slaps her hand on the mat to cheer her man on. That gets the English-speaking portion of the crowd into the match…

 

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*

LET’S GO LAN-DON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*

LET’S GO LAN-DON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*”

 

Landon responds to the crowd support, as he works his way back to his feet and fires at Jay Hawke’s ribs with some forearms. These actually have some effect, as Hawke’s grip on the hold weakens. Another forearm breaks the hold, and Landon comes firing back with knife-edge chops:

 

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOO!”

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOO!”

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOO!”

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOO!”

 

Those hard open-handed chops have Jay Hawke staggering backwards toward the ropes. Landon runs off the ropes on the other side of the ring and levels Jay with a flying forearm, but Hawke manages to fall into the ropes but stay on his feet. La Cucaracha runs off the ropes again, but this time Jay’s waiting for him. Maddix goes for a Thesz press, but Hawke catches him in mid-air and drops Maddix throat-first onto the top rope, snapping the champion’s head back whiplash-style.

 

Pete: “Hotshot! Jay Hawke just caught the International Champion with a Hotshot, and that’s going to do adverse damage to that neck!”

 

King: “If I’m Jay Hawke right here, I might not even bother with the knee at this point. He’s got Landon Maddix right where he wants him for the Wing Span!”

 

Jay Hawke is definitely thinking the Wing Span can finish Maddix off, but he looks down at his fallen opponent and gets an idea. He grabs Landon’s foot and drags him to the center of the ring, then turns him over. Hawke grapevines one leg around Maddix’s bad leg, then leans forward, locking in a crossface submission.

 

Pete: “And there’s Jay Hawke with the STF.”

 

King: “And this is brilliant! Yes, he works on the neck to set the Wing Span up, but he also works the knee that Johnny Dangerous did so much damage to on Sunday night! This is why they call Jay Hawke ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’! He might be the smartest man in the entire company!”

 

The pain is etched on the 21-year-old Landon’s face as he tries to crawl for the ropes. Hawke, sensing his grip weakening, grits his teeth and pulls back on the hold, trying anything he can to keep Maddix grounded right where he’s at. Megan Skye walks over to the side of the ring where Landon can see her best at, and she pleads for Landon to get to the ropes. Landon grabs the bottom rope, and Kivell calls for the break, but Jay Hawke refuses to let go.

 

Pete: “Come on Jay, break the hold!”

 

King: “Here’s the beauty of it, Pete! Anything goes! He can hold onto the STF as long as he wants to! And if Landon submits in the ropes, it still counts as a title change!”

 

Megan Skye screams at Jay Hawke to let go of the hold, and he finally does. He then immediately kicks at the bottom rope to back Megan Skye off.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Pete: “Now what was the call for that?”

 

King: “Hey, if that bimbo wants to get involved, then she can take anything she gets without whining about it!”

 

Pete: “You’re still upset that she turned you down when you asked her out!”

 

King: “Well, what chick wouldn’t want me? I’m gorgeous!”

 

Hawke gives Megan the Look of Death, but his battle is with Landon Maddix. He pulls La Cucaracha to the center of the ring, then locks him into a camel clutch, pulling back on the head and neck of the champion.

 

Pete: “Camel clutch applied, and all the pressure is on the neck!”

 

King: “Look at Landon’s eyes! Look at them roll back into his head! This is the greatest thing I’ve seen since…”

 

Pete: “Sunday?”

 

King: “You’re becoming quite cynical in your old age, aren’t you, Pete?”

 

Pete: “I’ve learned from the master.”

 

Landon is able to get his right arm off of Hawke’s bent knee, and he’s using it to try to crawl to the ropes. He’s reaching for it. He’s two feet away…

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON! CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!”

 

 

…one foot away…

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON! CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!”

 

…six inches away…

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

…but Jay Hawke stops Maddix right in his tracks with an elbow drop to the back of the head!

 

King: “Do you hear that, Pete? That’s the sound of the wind leaving Landon Maddix’s sails! We’re five minutes at the most away from a new champion!”

 

Jay Hawke stomps on the back of Maddix’s neck and decides it’s time to take a calculated risk. After all, he’s had Maddix pretty much out of it ever since the initial lead pipe shot. So Hawke steps through the ropes and heads for the turnbuckle. He starts to climb, but Megan Skye grabs the ankle. Hawke kicks his leg back to get her a few steps back…

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

…before continuing his climb to the top turnbuckle. The distraction buys enough time for Landon Maddix to get to his feet, and he limps over to the corner and uppercuts Hawke, snapping his neck back and sending saliva flying across the ring. Maddix slowly climbs up after The Dean, favoring the knee all the while. He levels Hawke with a forearm. And another. And one more. Landon hooks Hawke’s head into a front headlock, then tries for a superplex, but Hawke blocks it.

 

Pete: “This could be a dangerous situation here.”

 

King: “Tell me about it. The fall could kill Jay Hawke. FIGHT IT!”

 

Pete: “You’re kidding, right?”

 

Maddix lifts again, but between the neck and the knee, he can’t get enough power behind the move to lift Hawke. Jay seizes the opportunity. He fires off three or four short punches into the short ribs, then lifts Maddix up….

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

…and drops him forward over the top rope, causing Landon’s face to hit the ring apron and Landon’s head to snap back once more!

 

 

“HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!”

 

King: “I have to agree with the crowd!”

 

Pete: “And that has to do it, King. There’s no way Landon Maddix can possibly recover from a fall like that!”

 

King: “Finally you’re seeing things the right way, Pete. I knew you’d come around if we tried hard enough!”

 

Jay Hawke flashes an evil grin as he climbs down off the turnbuckle onto the arena floor. Sensing it’s only a matter of time before the championship belt is firmly around his waist, he slowly walks over to Landon and shouts “Get up, you son of a bitch!”

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

The challenger slowly picks up the champion into a front headlock, then, after blowing a kiss to Megan Skye and letting off a mock wave, spins Landon Maddix down hard onto the floor.

 

Pete: “My God! Jay Hawke just took the champion down hard on the floor with the swinging neck breaker!”

 

King: “And as the match goes on, Jay Hawke gains more and more confidence, and Landon Maddix loses more and more strength. Maddix might have the vitality of a cockroach, but even a cockroach will eventually die if you snap its neck in two!”

 

Jay Hawke picks up Landon Maddix and rolls him into the ring, but he makes sure Landon’s head is dangling off the ring apron. Hawke drops an elbow across the throat, then hops up onto the apron. Hawke looks down at Megan, points at her, and yells, “What do you think of your man now?” Megan shoots him the evil eye, but he doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dropping a guillotine leg drop across the champion’s throat. Maddix rolls around like a basketball, holding his head and neck the whole time as Jay Hawke makes his way back into the ring.

 

King: “Absolutely brilliant, Pete! What an amazing match by the former USJL Champion.”

 

Pete: “You can’t count Landon Maddix out until the final three count has been made, King.”

 

King: “True, but if that final three count is only going to be another 30 seconds or so away anyway, then what the hell?”

 

Jay Hawke pulls Landon Maddix to the center of the ring, making sure Maddix is facedown on the mat. He takes both of Maddix’s legs and puts them across each other, then takes his own leg and grapevines Landon’s. He flips off the crowd that’s vehemently booing him, then falls backward, snapping Maddoix’s legs. He stands back up, only to fall back and put more pressure onto Landon’s knees. With Landon trying anything he can to fight the pain, Hawke decides to dig into the moves he learned watching puroresu tapes and bridges backwards, pulling back on the chin of his opponent while keeping the pressure on the knees!

 

Pete: “And the Mutalock!”

 

King: “Also commonly known as the chinlock deathlock submission, and occasionally called the Executioner’s Rack. Pressure on the knees, pressure on the neck, and pressure on the champion to somehow retain the championship.”

 

But there’s also pressure on the challenger, as the human body is not meant to hold that position for any length of time. Hawke is forced to release the chinlock and get back into a comfortable position. At this point, Megan Skye hops onto the apron to get Hawke’s attention.

 

Pete: “What is she doing?”

 

King: “Getting herself into trouble, that’s what she’s doing.”

 

Hawke walks over to her and shows off his body, saying, “Come on, honey. You know I’m the only guy in that locker room you haven’t had yet.” He continues to taunt her, not realizing Landon’s getting to his knees behind him. He walks over to Megan and puckers up…

 

*SMACK!*

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

…and gets slapped across the face by Landon’s manager. Hawke backs up a couple of steps, mostly out of shock, but he backs into Landon’s schoolboy cradle.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR…NO!

 

Jay Hawke is quickly to his feet, and he takes Landon down with a leg lariat.

 

Pete: “Maddix nearly caught Hawke by surprise to retain the title, but Hawke was waiting for him!”

 

King: “Like I’ve been telling you, Pete. It’s only a matter of time before The Dean puts the man away.”

 

Sensing Landon’s not quite ready to give in, Jay decides to try to go for the pin. He picks Landon up, a firm grip around the waist. He picks him up and tries to fall backwards with him, but La Cucaracha squirms, twists his body around so he can lock in a front headlock, then falls backwards himself to drive Hawke down with a DDT.

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Pete: “WHAT A COUNTERMOVE! A DDT seemingly out of nowhere, and the champion’s not out of this one yet, King!”

 

King: “Dammit! Where the hell is Maddix getting this from?”

 

Maddix finally has his challenger down, but with all the pain his knee and neck have endured, he can’t get to his feet without help of the ropes. In fact, he starts to pull himself up, but collapses along the middle ropes. Suddenly the crowd begins to stir, and we see Todd Cortez making his way to the ring.

 

King: “What the hell is he doing out here?”

 

Pete: “Maybe he’s coming out here to cheer his partner on!”

 

King: “Well, it might be too late for that to be effective! His partner’s in deep, deep trouble!”

 

Todd Cortez makes his way to the ring, standing beside Megan Skye and pounding his hand on the mat, getting the crowd to get behind the champion.

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*

LET’S GO LAN-DON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*

LET’S GO LAN-DON! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*”

 

Both men get to their feet at roughly the same time, even though Hawke is still shaking the cobwebs from the DDT. Hawke charges, trying to clothesline Maddix and regain the advantage, but Maddix ends up legsweeping Hawke face first to the canvas.

 

Pete: “Complete Shot!”

 

King: “Where the hell is he getting this from?”

 

Pete: “And he’s rolling Hawke over to his back. The cover!”

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Kickout. Maddix slowly pushes himself up to his feet, and Hawke is up a second later. Maddix lands a forearm to the face. Then a chop.

 

*SMACK!* “WHOOOOOO!”

 

Another forearm. Another chop.

 

*SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOO!”

 

Another forearm. Another chop.

 

*SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Maddix continues to level Hawke with forearm smashes, putting as much as he possibly can on them without planting the bad leg. Maddix then hooks up Jay Hawke, giving the impression he wants to go for a suplex…

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

…but he decides to kick Jay Hawke below the belt instead.

 

King: “Of all the dirty, no good…”

 

Pete: “…legal…”

 

King: “…things to do! That’s a champion to be proud of?”

 

Pete: “Hawke hit the man’s injured knee with a lead pipe before choking the life out of him with it!”

 

King: “And that’s my problem HOW, exactly?”

 

While our trusty broadcast team continues to argue with each other, Landon Maddix is trying to climb the turnbuckle, looking for one last high-risk move to steal the victory. He slowly makes it to the bottom rope…

 

 

 

 

…then the middle rope…

 

 

 

 

…then the top turnbuckle…

 

Pete: “Here it comes, King! The move that will retain the championship for La Cucaracha!”

 

…but Jay Hawke is up, and he levels Maddix with a forearm to the chest.

 

King: “Except it took him 25 minutes to get to the top rope!”

 

Jay Hawke climbs up after him, and he locks Maddix’s head into a front headlock. He tries to lift Maddix for a superplex, but Maddix grabs the top rope to block it. They jockey for position…

 

King: “Why does this look eerily familiar?”

 

…and Maddix decides it’s all or never. He grits his teeth, leaps up…

 

 

*THUDDDDD!*

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

…and jumps off the top rope with Hawke, bringing The Dean of Professional Wrestling down to the mat head-first with a sick-looking DDT!

 

 

“HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!

HO-LY SHIT!”

 

 

Pete: “MY GOD!”

 

King: “I think he just broke Jay Hawke’s neck! And if he didn’t, then give Jay Hawke credit for not dying in the center of the ring after that move!”

 

Jay Hawke is out cold, but Landon Maddix can barely move himself, thanks to the damage already done to his knee and neck. Matthew Kivell instinctively starts a ten count with both men down, forgetting for a moment that this match must have a winner. Landon stirs, as Todd Cortez and Megan Skye both pound the mat in an effort to get Landon Maddix to cover Jay Hawke.

 

 

“LET’S GO, LAN-DON!

LET’S GO, LAN-DON!

LET’S GO, LAN-DON!”

 

 

Maddix slowly crawls over to Jay Hawke and finally drops one arm on top of Jay Hawke’s chest. Kivell slides into position, with the crowd counting along with him….

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE---”OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

King: “Two count! Only a two count!”

 

Pete: “I thought for sure Landon had the match won right there!”

 

King: “By all rights, he should have had the match won there. If he comes into this match at 100 percent, he probably does win the match right there. But he didn‘t win the match right there, and the title is still in jeopardy.”

 

Landon Maddix looks around, totally flustered and obviously in pain. That move off the top might have taken whatever was left out of his knee, and he doesn’t know what else to do. Then he sees it out of the corner of his eye…

 

King: “What’s he looking at?”

 

…the lead pipe that started it all.

 

Pete: “Uh oh.”

 

King: “Uh oh is right. What could he possibly be thinking?”

 

Landon Maddix crawls over to the pipe and picks it up.

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Landon Maddix uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, using his free hand to hide the pipe behind his back. Jay Hawke finally gets to his feet after feeling the effects of that top-rope DDT.

 

King: “Jay! Don’t turn toward him!”

 

The Dean doesn’t hear the Suicide King, and he turns toward Landon Maddix as Maddix swings…

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

…and catches him right in the chin. Maddix immediately falls to his knees and begins to choke Hawke with the pipe.

 

Pete: “Turn about is fair play!”

 

King: “And this crowd is cheering all of a sudden when they hated this tactic ten minutes ago! Hypocritical bastards!”

 

Landon continues to choke his challenger until he’s just about passed out, then he stops and holds the pipe in the air, soaking in the adulation from the crowd! He turns toward Todd Cortez and Megan Skye, who applaud, with Todd shouting “Finish him!” With a barely conscious Jay Hawke holding his throat, trying in vain to catch his breath, the champion gets into position….

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Pete: “The Land of Nod! Landon Maddix is going to take Jay Hawke into the Land of Nod with that dragon clutch!”

 

King: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Come on Jay! Get out of it!”

 

Maddix continues to pull back on the neck, but he decides to add a body scissors to the hold -- partly to keep Jay Hawke trapped and unable to move toward the ropes, and partly to relieve the pressure off his own knee.

 

Pete: “He’s got it now, King! No way can Jay Hawke gets out of this!”

 

King: “You mean I have to suffer with another four month title reign from this guy?”

 

Matthew Kivell moves in and asks Jay Hawke if he wants to submit, and Hawke waves his right hand to indicate that he can still continue. Kivell asks again, and the wave gets a little bit slower. He asks again…

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

…and this time the arm goes limp.

 

Pete: “The challenger’s fading, King! After all the punishment Jay Hawke did to the International Champion, Landon Maddix is going to end up retaining it anyway!”

 

King: “No! Anything but that! Fight it Jay!”

 

But Jay can’t fight it. He’s fading fast. Todd Cortez shouts, “Tighter! Just a little tighter!” Maddix puts every bit of strength into the hold until Jay Hawke’s arm is completely at its side. Matthew Kivell lifts Jay Hawke’s arm…

 

 

…it falls.

 

Pete: “The arm drops once! Two more times and the match is all over!”

 

Matthew Kivell lifts Jay Hawke’s arm…

 

Megan Skye anticipates the end of the match, jumping up and down before giving Todd Cortez a quick hug.

 

…it falls. The crowd erupts, as Jay Hawke is clearly out for the count.

 

Pete: “One more it’s over!”

 

Landon Maddix looks up, getting an eyeful of Megan Skye letting go of the hug she just gave Cortez.

 

Matthew Kivell lifts Jay Hawke’s arm…

 

 

…it…

 

 

…doesn’t matter, as the hug has thrown off Landon Maddix’s concentration to the point that he releases the hold before Kivell can drop the arm the third time.

 

Pete: “He let go of the hold!”

 

King: “I think somebody got jealous of that hug on the outside!”

 

Pete: “It means nothing, though! She was celebrating a sure victory!”

 

Landon Maddix stares down with his mouth agape as if he wants to say something, but he just stands there with his arm outstretched as if to say “What the hell is going on?” Megan and Todd, too busy celebrating, have yet to realize Landon released the hold.

 

Pete: “Maddix needs to ignore that and focus on…”

 

…Jay Hawke gains his bearings just enough to hit Landon Maddix with a low blow from behind.

 

Pete: “…Jay Hawke!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Landon Maddix crumbles to the mat, and Jay Hawke senses this might be his last opportunity. With Maddix face first on the mat, Jay Hawke pulls Maddix toward the center of the ring. He pulls back on the injured leg, locking in a half Boston crab. The crowd, only seconds earlier assuming their man was sure to retain, now has to try to rally their hero…

 

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!

PLEASE DON’T TAP!

PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

Landon tries to crawl toward the ropes, and Megan Skye and Todd Cortez finally realize what’s going on and try to cheer Landon to make it. He gets a couple of feet away, but Hawke pulls him back into the center of the ring, this time driving a knee into the back of the neck as well.

 

King: “Brilliant! He’s got the neck and the knee locked up!”

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!

PLEASE DON’T TAP!

PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

Landon reaches forward, but realizing how far off he is and how much the pain is pouring through his body, he has no choice…

 

 

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP!

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Megan Skye buries her head into her hands as Todd Cortez merely puts his head down.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 15 minutes 41 seconds … the winner of the match … and NEW SWF International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

Matthew Kivell hands Jay Hawke the title belt, and Jay proudly raises it over his head. Only for a second or so though, as Todd Cortez quickly slides into the ring. Cortez might be an upstanding member of society, but Jay decides not to test that theory and immediately slides out of the ring, holding his newly won title as he heads to the back.

 

Pete: “Well, say what you want to about Jay Hawke’s tactics, but I’ve begrudgingly got to hand it to him. He knew Maddix wasn’t a hundred percent coming into this match, and he took advantage of that.”

 

King: “And I’ll even say it, Pete. Landon Maddix tried. He gave it his best. It was a tremendous effort.”

 

Pete: “Very nice of you, King.”

 

King: “But you lost, sucker! Go home and cry to mommy! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

Longdogger Pete can do nothing but sigh.

 

Pete: “We’re running desperately out of time. We’ve crowned a new International Champion, and the title scene keeps getting more and more chaotic. For Suicide King, I’m Longdogger Pete. Good night, everybody!”

 

We get one last image of Jay Hawke holding his newly won International Championship in the air as we fade out.

 

©2005

 

FADE OUT

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