SWF LOCKDOWN!

[Ace309 0]

Earlier today…

 

The press conference is a literal media circus, far bigger than any q and a session Danny Williams has participated in at the states. Of all the SWF superstars, none are more popular with the Japanese fans than Danny Williams. Afterall, Williams was not only trained in Japan but has clocked most of his ring time in the country.

 

Wearing incredibly large glasses, a short but very loud stereotypical reporter speaks to Williams in broken english,” Mistah Williams, if you havaah one wishaah, whataah wouldaah beeah?”

 

Letting out a forced laugh, a smiling Danny Williams carefully ponders his answer. While scratching his chin in contemplation, Williams remarks, “Wow...well I’ve always wanted to face Giant Baba.”

 

The army of reporters nod in agreement as if to say,”very good choice.” This is expected, but it’s what the reporter says next that comes as a surprise.

 

“Mistaah Williams, your wishaaah is granted!”,exclaims the excited reporter.

 

Shooting a bewildered look at the crowd, a disoriented Williams quietly responds.

 

“But...I...I thought Baba passed away several years ago?”

 

“Hi!”shouts the nodding reporter.

 

“Than how can I face him?”

 

Suddenly, a large burly man in a Cowboy Hat comes storming through the sea of reporters. Clearing his path with a lashing heavy cow whip, the mysterious fat Cowboy jumps onto the stage, where he steam rolls threw tables and people alike. The berserk rhino of a man, holds his hand to the crowd and with a bellow of “HEEEEEEEEEE!” extends two fingers in the sign of the Texas bull!

 

“HANSEEEEEN, your here!”exclaims the reporter!

 

In response, Hansen spits a gallon of tobacco at the lucky reporter. Drenched from head to toe in black tar like goo, the reporter proudly models for the rabid crowd, who are no doubt very jealous. Like a child staring at Santa Claus, a wide eyed Danny Williams rises from his chair in ah. Wiping his mouth, the repulsive Texan gets down to business

 

“So, you wanna tangle with Baba kid?”, slobbers Hansen.

 

Unable to speak, Williams rubs his eyes in disbelief.

 

“Well you see, way back yonder I was Baba’s tag partner and before he died, he gave me dis here magical whistle. I’m not sure how it works exactly but no shit, when I ever you blow it, Baba will rise from the grave and appear right before your god damn eyes.”

 

 

With that, Hansen hands the whistle over to an overwhelmed Danny Williams, disgustingly using the same hand he rubbed his mouth with. Staring at the tobacco stained whistle with a mix of repulsion and wonder, Williams confusingly looks at the towering Texan for advice.

 

“Now all you got to do is blow on it and he will appear.” orders Hansen as he scratchess his crab invested balls.

 

Williams hesitates, after all fucking Stan Hansen has put his mouth on it. However the temptation is to great and with an unpleasant look on his face Williams slowly puts the whistle to his mouth and blows.

 

The heavenly noise of the whistle echos through the conference room. At first there’s silence but it isn’t long before a strange creaking noise can be heard. Much like the opening scene from Hellraiser, a strange alien light begins to peek it’s way through the boards of the room. The conference room begins to shake as if there’s an earthquake and than...

 

BOOM! A wall explodes with light and smoke.

 

A large outline of a.....very tall hunched over E.T. like creature can be seen lurching in the glowing illumination.

 

“WHO DARE SUMMON ME?”, asks the being in a low thunders voice.

 

The room clears out in a panic, leaving Williams alone with the giant Texan and the mysterious creature that stands before him. Squinting his eyes as tight as possible, a horrified Danny Williams struggles to make out the details of the lumbering monstrosity.

 

“WHO DARE SUMMON ME?”, demands the being.

 

Hansen gives Williams a small push, knocking him closer to the towering demi-god. Upon closer inspection, Williams’ jaw drops in a combination of terror and amazement. The beast before him is none other than the legendary and very much deceased Giant Baba. Sporting a shining diamond studded robe, a very tall but frail and elderly Baba warmly smiles down at Williams, who can only scratch his head in curiosity. How could such a friendly peaceful creature produce such a monestrous voice.

 

“Mr. Baba.....it was I who summoned you. But....I do not wish to face you...in the ring.”

 

In response, Baba gently pets Williams’ head before roaring.....

 

“MY RING’S OUTSIDE!”

 

With that, Baba buries a vicious Karate Chop into the top of Danny’s brain, damn near planting him into the earth! The next thing Williams knows, a surprise Coconut Crunch slams his face into Baba’s sharp boney knee! Knocked goofy, Williams stumbles to his feet only get planted into the floor with a mean spirited DDT! Slapping hands with Hansen in celebration, Baba dances around Williams’ broken corpse, swinging his arm around in what is no doubt preparation for the feared and deadly Neckbreaker Dropper! Having no clue what truck hit him, Williams wobbles to a vertical base. Letting out a demonic growl that can be heard for miles, Baba awkwardly charges at full speed! Hooking his victim around the throat, Baba dives forward, TEARING WILLIAMS’ HEAD CLEAN OFF! Blood fountains out of severed arteries in Danny’s neck, painting the conference room a crimson red!

 

Sitting up with a blood curdling scream, Williams awakes in a cold sweat! What is all a dream? Unnerved, Williams scans his darkened hotel room. All is quiet accept for the muffled cries of a Japanese wrestling announcer. The T.V.’s on, displaying a Baba/Hansen tag match.

 

“Damn, I have to stop watching wrestling before I go to bed,” thinks Williams as he clicks the off button on the remote.

 

Glancing at the alarm clock with crusty eyes, Williams lays back down with a sigh.

 

“It was only a dream...”

 

CRASH!

 

Williams’ eyes swing open! The roof of the hotel peels away, revealing what has to be a 400 foot tall Giant, Giant Baba! The cyclopean behemoth lets out a bellowing laugh that nearly shakes the hotel to it’s foundation. Cuddling up in his bed like a freighted child hiding from the boogeyman, Williams screams at the top of his lungs as he’s consumed by the shadow of a lowering hand!

 

THE END… OR IS IT?

 

This promo was brought to you by excessive cocaine abuse.

[Ace309 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the National Anthem.”

 

Funyon steps into the ring to a round of polite applause, and the background music begins to play.

 

Nothing can dwell....In your living hell

Gangsters left dead roses at his store front,

it was a warning sign.

If he doesn't pay that green back fast

his death his wife could grieve.

 

He's banging his head against the wall with frustration.

He placed his family's lives in a bad situation.

He thought he was smarter and he could get over.

Now life is ticking away.

He's coming closer to danger.

 

Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza...

I'd hate to be caught down in that trap.

Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza...

Life is so damn sweet.

 

The drop off spot was at Central Park

right by Alice and wonderland.

It better be paid by twelve o'clock

or you can kiss your life good-bye.

I feel it best you pay the rest of this money by noon

or suffer the consequences, before things go kaboom.

You know what can happen in Brooklyn or Manhattan.

Betrail has a pattern which is usually death.

 

What about your faith and your spirituality

your meditations and your prayers daily.

You burnt all possible allies with your deceit at your peak.

You stomped and crushed on the meek

You heard the words but you ignore the signs.

You cross the line so you must pay the price

Now you're running scared, you're running scared.

Yeah your heart is pumping, your heart is pumping.

Nothing can dwell in your living hell.

No diggidy no diggidy no diggidy

You must move on, you must proceed. Now life is ticking away.

He's coming closer to danger.

 

Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza...

I'd hate to be caught down in that trap.

Ohh ohh ohh ohh...Yakuza Yakuza...

Life is so damn sweet.

The drop off spot was at Central Park

right by Alice and wonderland.

It better be paid by twelve o'clock

or you can kiss your life good-bye.

I feel it best you pay the rest of this money by noon

or suffer the consequences, before things go kaboom.

You know what can happen in Brooklyn or Manhattan.

Betrail has a pattern which is usually death.

 

What about your faith and your spirituality

your meditations and your prayers daily.

You burnt all possible allies with your deceit at your peak.

You stomped and crushed on the meek

You heard the words but you ignore the signs.

You cross the line so you must pay the price

Now you're running scared, you're running scared.

Yeah your heart is pumping, your heart is pumping.

Nothing can dwell in your living hell.

No diggidy no diggidy no diggidy

You must move on, you must proceed.

 

Funyon dodges a hail of bullets amidst the applause for his stirring rendition of the Pilfers’ “Yakuza.” With that, the show fades in.

[Ace309 0]

“Fans, I am here backstage with the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Toxxic!” Ben Hardy exclaims into the camera. “Tonight he will defend the World Title against a returning SWF legend, the one and only Ejiro Fasaki. My question to you is this,” the interviewer continues, turning to face the straight-edger beside him; “do you think you can win?”

 

“Of course I think I can bloody win,” Toxxic snorts, “I wouldn’t have flown out here if I didn’t.”

 

“OK,” Hardy says, sighing under his breath and wondering why it’s always the difficult ones that he has to interview. “So are you not in the least bit worried about Ejiro’s mindset, given that you assaulted his sister on the last broadca-”

 

“Whoah whoah, hold it right there sunshine,” Toxxic interjects. “Before you get all high and mighty on me, just remember that she hit me first! Now,” the Brit continues, “I can see that you’re a bit dubious about the whole morality of this Ben, so let me break it down for you. Would you hit a man who was a fair bit bigger than you, a good deal stronger than you, and fought people for a living when you had no training?”

 

“Well…” Hardy begins uncertainly.

 

“Exactly,” Toxxic interrupts him again. “I know what you’re thinking; ‘but she’s a girl, Toxx!’. Well Ben, for your information I’ve wrestled two girls for this title, Andrea Montgomery and Annie Onita. I hit both of them - in fact I handcuffed Annie and pasted her in the head with a chair, as I recall - and I don’t remember a massive fuss made about that. This ain’t about the fact that she’s female, it’s about the fact that she was relatively helpless. My argument is this; if you’re relatively helpless, don’t go bloody hitting someone who’s capable of laying you out.”

 

“…I see,” Ben Hardy says, evidently deciding not to pursue that line of questioning any further. “But all the same, it’s fair to say that Ejiro Fasaki is not going to be pleased with you; do you think that might play a role in the outcome of tonight’s match?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Toxxic agrees. “He’s gonna be angry, and angry people make mistakes. Ben,” the World Champion continues, adjusting the title belt slung over his shoulder, “I’m not that worried by Ejiro. I’m no more worried by Ejiro than I am at the prospect of facing, say, Johnny Dangerous. In fact, let’s make a brief comparison. Both are jumped-up tag team wrestlers, am I right?”

 

“I don’t know about-” Hardy begins, but Toxxic doesn’t let him finish.

 

“Yeah, it stands to reason you don’t know much,” the straight-edger snorts, “that’s why you’re asking bloody questions all the time. But I digress; both jumped-up tag team wrestlers, who were part of a record-breaking tag team as a result of being carried by their partners.”

 

“I think that’s-”

 

“…being carried by their partners, who were both notorious Hardcore Champions,” Toxxic carries on.

 

“Well, the Wildchild and Judge Mental were-”

 

“-in the absence of their partners, both men stepped up to win the World Title, a reign that lasted a few weeks and was ultimately pointless.”

 

“I really don’t think-”

 

“…both men then lose the title and leave the fed to sulk for a little while,” Toxxic ploughs on, “before returning some point later displaying a partially changed attitude. As in; Ejiro’s trying not to cheat, and Johnny’s starting to develop something approaching a personality.”

 

“Oh come on,” Hardy protests, “I don’t-”

 

“-ultimately, they’re pretty similar,” Toxxic concludes. “The only notable difference is that Ejiro has a fit sister.”

 

“So if we take your comparison to be a true and accurate one,” Hardy says carefully, “are we to assume that the end result will be the same? After all,” the SWF’s Number One Announcer continues, preparing himself for an unpleasant reaction, “Johnny Dangerous did beat you for the World Title in your first one-on-one meeting.”

 

“That’s true,” Toxxic agrees easily, “but we have a saying in my country, Ben.”

 

“Once bitten, twice shy?”

 

“No,” Toxxic corrects him, “Ben Hardy can eat a bag of dicks.”

 

There is a brief silence as Ben Hardy tries to remember exactly why he took this announcing gig instead of staying in the SJL.

 

“But enough of this,” Toxxic grins at his interviewer. “The stats speak for themselves, Ben. Ejiro’s one and only title reign lasted three weeks. My second title reign lasted three months. I’m gonna go straight through Ejiro and get to the three month mark with this title reign as well, and then I’m going to go beyond that and hit one hundred days. And after that… who knows?” the Straight-Edge Sensation says. “But tell me one thing; do you think Ejiro can beat me?”

 

“Well, it’s difficult to say,” Hardy admits after a couple of second’s thought, “but overall I‘d have to say; yes, I believe Ejiro Fasaki could beat you.”

 

“Ben?”

 

“Yes?” Hardy asks. A familiar, menacing, lopsided grin spreads over Toxxic’s face.

 

“…Prepare To Be Proved Wrong.”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Ace309 0]

The commercial for Lil’ Buck’s “Ebonics Scrabble” fades away and SWF Lockdown returns at the legendary Nippon Budokan Hall in Tokyo, Japan.

 

“We are back and live at the Nippon Budokan Hall in Tokyo, Japan!” LDP screams over the rallied fans.

 

“Right and I couldn’t be happier,” King says.

 

“Really?”

 

“As long as they keep bowing to me and giving me free Bocky,” he says.

 

“Uh… I think they are called-”

 

“Now listen, I know a Bocky when I see one and I love the Bocky,” King firmly replies to the giggling of fans.

 

LDP groans and leans over to whisper Bocky’s slang meaning in Japan before SK groans.

 

“Pocky! Pocky! Those are great!” He awkwardly tries to correct himself.

 

“Those are quite delicious.”

 

“POCKY!” King shouts before regaining his control.

 

“Anyway, tonight’s Lockdown could not be any more exciting- in our second main event we have Ejiro Fasaki challenging Toxxic for the World Heavyweight Championship!” He hypes the main event to the rallied fans.

 

“So Fasaki gets shut out in front of some of his most loyal fans, delicious,” King laughs to the jeers of the fans.

 

“Tonight our first main event is a TLC match where Wild and Dangerous will defend against Martial Law and also the hottest recent team- Manson and Arch Griffon,” LDP explains.

 

“Don’t forget we get to see Dean whoop up on ‘The Franchise,’” King reminds. “Oh and the rematch between Jay Hawke and Lil’ Buck sans the booze.”

 

“First we have an explosive opener. On Storm the Insane Luchador gained double gold when he defeated the Wildchild to become our Cruiserweight and Hardcore Gamers Championship after Scott Pretzler got involved,” LDP recaps. “Whether it’s the way either man would have wanted it to happen or not, he is now a dual champion!”

 

“Definition of lose-lose situation though, IL or WC? Insane Luchador or Wildchild... it was like a nightmare. Pretzler was the only reason I personally kept awake,” King replies.

 

“Tonight he will not have to defend either title- but represent both of them. We arranged a special little match up where two contenders will get a shot at breaking the Luchador into the hard life of being a dual champion,” LDP says.

 

“If I was still around I’d strip him of at least one title,” King pouts.

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m still evil, damn it!” King snaps back.

 

LDP ignores his partner. “He’s going to be up against the team of our latest psycho, Bryan Rodgers, and Spike Jenkins! It will be a handicap match but not with any standard rules. No, that would be too easy for all three. Instead we decided that each competitor represents a division- Spike’s a cruiser, Rodgers is ideal hardcore division material,” LDP explains.

 

“So there was one logical conclusion- screw Luchador over with two stipulations within the match,” King says with glee.

 

“When Spike Jenkins is inside the ring it is a Cruiserweight Rules match which means the outside ring count is twenty and throwing an opponent over the top rope is illegal. When Bryan Rodgers enters the ring it becomes a hardcore match- anything goes. First falls win and this has the potential to be very interesting…” LDP takes over with the explanation.

 

“Right because each man is fighting for an unofficial shot at their title- Spike and Bryan both want a pin for their own sake but they have to cooperate for the win… plus this is the first time either will interact in any way, shape, or form,” King interjects.

 

“Plus when it’s a hardcore stipulation there’s nothing stopping from Jenkins just leaping in that ring with the double teaming action. But whether or not he’ll risk the chance of being knocked out in the hardcore stipulation is up to him. He fought against Dace during the SJL in arguably the most brutal match- Damnation in a Box,” LDP reminds.

 

“So he’s not afraid to leap in but if he gets too worn out then he’s no good,” King fills in the blanks.

 

“This match is scheduled for one fall…” Funyon’s voice echoes.

 

The world is a vampire…

Sent to drain

Secret Destroyers… hold you up to the flames [i/]

 

Smashing Pumpkin’s “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” begins and Bryan Rodgers appears to small cheers from the crowd. He walks out with his studded belt, faded blue jeans, and an SWF t-shirt. His bleached blonde shoulder-length hair is let loose that sharply contrasts with his dark chin strap beard.

 

“Introducing from Richmond, Virginia… weighing in at 237 pounds… ‘TTHHHEEE MMMAANNNIIIAACCC’ BBBBRRYYYYAAANNN ROOOODDDGGEERSS!”

 

“Those signature Rodgers’ ‘Nazi-Stompin’ boots are laced up were given to him by his old mentor,” LDP says.

 

“These boots were made for stomping,” King agrees.

 

“Not walking because that’s just what they’d do…” LDP begins before getting a glare from King.

 

He stops at the very start of the aisle as he lights up a cigarette as the song continues. He takes a long drag before beginning his walk towards the entrance ramp as the fans love every cancerous second of the second hand smoke.

 

“He may be new to this federation but he’s gaining popularity quickly,” LDP says.

 

“They claim he’s a ‘jack of all trades’ and that makes me wonder why the hell he resorts to hardcore matches,” King tacks on.

 

“Well it’s a selective breed…” LDP begins to explain.

 

Rodgers reaches ringside and enters through the middle rope as he continues to smoke his cigarette. Inside the ring Matthew Kivell coughs and points to his chest then motions at the cigarette as Bryan lets out a sigh. He walks over towards the turnbuckle and stubs the cigarette out before letting out a smoker’s cough.

 

“Christ, I [i/] can feel the cancer,” King jokes.

 

There’s not a moment of silence in the arena before the obnoxious sound of a needle on record player begins.

 

“Here is the man that just recently beat Mak Francis,” LDP recaps.

 

Lamb of God’s “Black Label” crashes like a tidal wave across the arena to a heated mixed reaction. The drums electrify the fans and they all brace themselves-

 

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

 

Bright white lights flash everywhere as the song kicks into full gear. Spike Jenkins comes out in his black-and-yellow hooded leather jacket, the straight-edge tank top, the baggy jean shorts, his face and blonde hair with red highlights are covered by the hood.

 

“Introducing from Hollywood, California… weighing in at 225 pounds… SSPPPIIKKKEEE JEENNKKKIINNNS!” Funyon yells.

 

Spike walks down the ring aisle as Bryan Rodgers stand in center of the ring with an approving nod of his tag team partner. He reaches ringside and rolls into the ring all the way to the center where he stands up. Spike and Bryan exchange a hand slap as the two begin to discuss impromptu strategy.

 

“It’s good that they are formulating a plan first because the Insane Luchador has really been stepping up since his return… well since, ever,” LDP says.

 

“Not saying much now is it?” King taunts.

 

Two drums snap off and the fans go absolutely nuts. A guitar grinds away as the eerie voices pick up-

 

Aaahhhhhhhh-aahhhhhhhh-aahh-aahhh

 

“Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains picks up as suddenly two bursts of red and black pyrotechnics launch off. The cheers grow more intense as Insane Luchador steps out onto the entrance ramp. He stands tall with both arms in the air and both belts glistening in each hand.

 

“There’s our dual champion!” LDP squeals like a schoolgirl.

 

“Yeah but it won’t last too much longer,” King snorts.

 

Insane Luchador is clad in a black and white “Dying to Live” Zero t-shirt, baggy khaki cargoes, the beaten up skate shoes, and the sloppily spiked black hair. He stares down the aisle at his two opponents with an intense glare and a smirk to boot.

 

“He looks focused and I doubt he’ll be taking this match lightly,” LDP says.

 

“Next, from Easton, Pennsylvania… weighing in at 201 pounds… he is YOUR H-G-C AND CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION- IIIIIIINNNNSSSSSAAAAANNNNEEEEE LLLLUUUCCCHHHHHHAAADOOOOR!”

 

He breaks into a dead sprint down the aisle with his arms outstretched with the gold for display. He dives from ringside straight into the ring and rolls up, nailing both of his foes with a title belt! The Hardcore Gamers Championship sends Bryan to the canvas and the Cruiserweight Champion sends Jenkins reeling.

 

“What a cheap trick!” King protests at Luchador's actions.

 

“It took them off guard and now their communication has been quickly halted,” LDP defends.

 

Luchador turns and tosses both belts at Kivell as he rolls his shoulders waiting for one of his opponents to attack. Fumbling with the belts Matthew hands off the belts and calls for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Spike Jenkins and Bryan Rodgers both charge at the Luchador at the same time but nearly collide into each other. They both holler at who should start off the match and the hostility rises as Spike boldly shoves Bryan. The Maniac quickly responds with nailing a clothesline to his own partner who smacks against the canvas. Jenkins rolls to his feet and looks to go after Rodgers but Kivell steps in.

 

“My God, if they want any chance of winning they need to cooperate. It’s a nasty situation- each ego and each desires’ for a potential title shot is clouding their logic,” Pete observes.

 

“They aren’t a tag team and they hardly know each other- this is Luchador’s only hope,” King says.

 

Kivell has to restrain Spike and calmly tells him to get to the ring apron. He grudgingly does so with a glare at his partner.

 

“Bryan Rodgers versus Insane Luchador first and this means it’s a hardcore match,” LDP explains.

 

Rodgers bobs his head cockily at Spike’s retreat and turns around only to be ambushed. Insane Luchador comes down on his opponent with rapid strikes. He steps back and snaps off a jab at Luchador to buy time then gets in a hook. Luchador’s strikes cease and his opponent comes in with right hands. But the pugnacious Luchador only begins to match him with right hands as they begin to exchange punches.

 

“Two psychos, one ring, who will dominate?” King sarcastically says.

 

The Maniac rifles off a vicious right hook that sends Luchador reeling back. He switches directions and pauses before yelling-

 

“FLAIR!”

 

“What? Flare?” LDP asks.

 

“He’s crazy. Who knows,” King sighs.

 

“Flare on his performance… like panache?” LDP continues to be puzzled.

 

Bryan Rodgers initiates his famous Retro-Revolution as he takes on the persona of Ric Flair. He struts towards his opponent and draws back his arm before lashing the dual champion’s chest with a knife-edged chop!

 

WWWWWHOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Insane Luchador draws back his arm but Rodgers already has another-

 

SMACK!

 

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Luchador clutches his chest and takes a step back which incites another strut. But this time the smacks him down with a brutal clothesline! Rodgers is floored but rolls right back to his feet only to be whipped into the ropes. He comes charging back and as Luchador lunges towards him he drops to his stomach and slides through his legs. He hops up and Luchador whirls around- only to be stabbed!

 

“What… was… was that a fork?” LDP asks.

 

“…It was plastic too,” King notes.

 

“How bizarre,” LDP says.

 

Luchador barely even flinches but stares at Rodgers in absolute disbelief at the plastic fork stabbing at his chest. But the discombobulating scheme works and Rodgers is able to blast the Luchador away with a dropkick. He crumbles and rolls to the mat right at their corner where Spike can reach. As he stands up, still confused, Jenkins reaches over and grabs him by both arms, tugging him back. He shouts directions at Bryan who charges over. To appease the fans he whirls around and throws up his elbow right as Luchador slips away. Rodgers nails his own partner who flies to the outside and against the barricade as Bryan simply shrugs.

 

“That definitely won’t help their teamwork,” LDP says.

 

“Well Spike can jump in there but isn’t,” King points out.

 

The Psychotic Hero, Insane Luchador, grunts and sends a knee to the back of Rodgers. He waits as Bryan arches his back in response as he grabs his hair, tugs his face back, and smacks him in the face with a punch. But instead of letting go he gives a mighty heave, through Bryan through the middle rope. Spike, on one knee, looks up only to have Rodgers smack against him from the ring. The fans cheer as Insane Luchador slowly backs away as both of his opponents begin to argue while getting to their feet.

 

“Before we know it this will become a triple threat match,” LDP chuckles.

 

The duo on the outside both groggily get to their feet as Luchador breaks into a charge towards the ropes. As he approaches the ropes he leaps into the air and flies out with his signature Crossbody.

 

“Crossbody to the outside,” LDP says. “Luchador knows he can’t let chances like this go by and he knows two men will outlast even his endurance!”

 

As he descends both opponents realize the situation and they both catch a section of the Insane Luchador.

 

“Luchador gets caught by the Rokins,” King says.

 

“Rokins?”

 

“Rodgers… Jenkins... do you get it?” King condescendingly explains.

 

“It’s just stupid.”

 

“No Miami Mayhem was just stupid,” King counters.

 

“Go suck a Bocky,” LDP snaps back.

 

The temporary tag team both glance over at each and agree as he both heave Luchador into the steel steps. The steps dislodge as IL rolls off of them with a groan. Spike is quick to react as he swoops down and makes the cover-

 

Only to be tugged up by his blonde hair courtesy of Rodgers.

 

“Here we go again…” LDP sighs.

 

Insane Luchador gets to his knees and grabs the steel steps before standing up. As the two opponents bicker like an old couple Insane Luchador throws the steps at them. Spike gets smacked in the back and rolls into the ring in a panicked retreat. Rodgers, however, stands his ground and charges after the Luchador. But the dual champion leaps up and smacks Bryan in the gut with a knee. He halts his charge and then throws him into the ring as he slides in himself.

 

“Luchador taking back control quickly after that drop to the steel steps, brilliant idea but poor execution afterwards,” LDP says.

 

Both Bryan Rodgers and Spike Jenkins stand on their feet by the time Luchador gets to his. Few words are exchanged as Luchador inches his way towards center of the ring as Spike hops over the ropes to the ring apron. Bryan Rodgers turns around and holds out his hand and the two make a tag.

 

“It’s a whole new game now. Now that Spike is the legal man in it is a Cruiserweight Rules match,” LDP explains.

 

Rodgers retreats the apron as Spike Jenkins steps into the ring. Jenkins and IL begin to circle in the center of the ring before colliding in a grapple. He jukes behind the Luchador and locks in a waistlock! Insane Luchador throws back an elbow and smacks him in the head then breaks free from the waistlock. He turns around as Spike throws a kick towards his opponent but Luchador catches it. He throws and spins Jenkins to his back before clutching his opponent then lifts him up for the backdrop suplex.

 

“Backdrop suplex attempt,” LDP says.

 

Spike Jenkins exhibits his agility and flips his weight over in a backward to land on his feet. Luchador whirls around only to have his opponent hook his arm underneath his opponent’s arm and drapes it over his neck. But before he can drop to his knees the Insane Luchador throws an elbow and slips away. He steps behind his opponent but gets a back thrust kick towards his stomach! He doubles over as Spike whirls around and goes for the standing head scissors.

 

“He might be trying for The Ratings Crash!” King shouts.

 

“It would put away Luchador quickly!”

 

The dual champion however lifts up his back and flips Spike over his back onto the canvas. Escaping the standing headscissors he turns to face Spike who scrambles to his feet. IL bombards him as he begins to throw jabs, hooks, leg kicks, and every other strike as a prelude to his chain of strikes.

 

“He could be going for the Legacy of Brutality!” LDP cries out.

 

Meanwhile Rodgers sees Spike try to come towards him but he drops to the floor. Outside the ring Bryan Rodgers is apathetic to Luchador’s string of strikes, the Legacy of Brutality, as he digs underneath the ring apron.

 

“I think he’s going digging for the Death Chair,” LDP predicts.

 

Inside the ring Spike Jenkins catches the Luchador with a roundhouse kick and stops his assault. He tries to leap out for his vicious lariat but the Luchador ducks underneath it and stands behind his opponent. He quickly wraps his arms around in a waistlock then arches back, throwing Spike over with the release German Suplex! He smacks against the mat and gets folded like an accordion as Luchador doesn’t go for the pin- instead he opts to roll to the outside! On the other side of the ring his other opponent finally finds his signature weapon. He cautiously pulls out a steel chair wrapped around with barbed wire.

 

“There’s the Death Chair,” King says.

 

 

Inside the ring Matthew Kivell begins the out of ring count-

 

ONE- Spike Jenkins flops over and rolls towards the outside.

 

TWO! Insane Luchador begins to dig underneath the ring unaware of Spike slowly approaching behind him.

 

THREE! On the other side Rodgers begins to approach the Insane Luchador.

 

FOUR! Jenkins towers above him and sends a boot straight into his back. He flops over as Spike swoops down and reaches under the ring apron.

 

FIVE! He suddenly finds what the Luchador was going for. The fans go berserk as Spike Jenkins pulls out the light tube table, eight light tubes bundled together with two shaky legs folded underneath. He stares at it with a huge grin as he tries to slide it into the ring but Kivell rejects the idea.

 

“It’s not a hardcore match, Spike,” LDP points out.

 

Jenkins yells towards Bryan Rodgers who wields his Death Chair and he comes towards the light tube table.

 

SIX! Spike Jenkins snatches Insane Luchador and throws him against the guardrail. He then clutches him once again before rolling him back into the ring. He slides himself back in the ring and immediately tugs the Luchador back to his feet.

 

“Spike Jenkins has his partner grabbing those weapons as he continues to beat on Luchador,” LDP says.

 

Outside the ring Bryan Rodgers stands beside the table and hops onto the apron, beckoning for a tag. But Jenkins refuses and is oblivious to the Luchador who sends a palm strike to the back of his head! He stumbles right into his partner and sends him falling to the outside. He turns around and Luchador shoves him against the ropes, delivering a nasty headbutt. He follows up with an Irish Whip and charges after his opponent. Spike comes back and the Insane Luchador leaps into the air, wraps his legs around his opponent’s neck, and hits a hurricarana! He goes flying towards his corner where he crumbles right out of Bryan’s reach. Spike looks up and this time agrees to tag- hitting the tag as he gets the Death Chair and enters the ring.

 

“He has the Death Chair and it is back to the hardcore rules!”

 

The Insane Luchador charges and leaps into the air for the flying clothesline! But his opponent steps to the side and swings for the stands-

 

CRACK!

 

“Insane Luchador just got knocked out of the air with that Death Chair!” LDP cries out.

 

The dual champion lies on the canvas staring up at the house lights as his opponent drops to his stomach. He leans over the ring apron and snatches the light tube table. He slowly pulls it into the ring. Insane Luchador slowly flops over to his stomach and Rodgers gives him malicious aide. He stands him up and nails a right hand to daze the Psychotic Hero while grabbing the light tube table. He quickly sets it up and he lunges out for a tie-up.

 

“He’s got that light tube table set up!” King says.

 

Luchador sidesteps it and he throws up a knee in desperation that nails him in the gut. He towers over him then locks in the front facelock, grabbing a handful of his faded jeans. Glancing behind himself he sees the light tube table right behind him.

 

“He’s going to go for the suplex!”

 

Insane Luchador hoists the Maniac in the air with the suplex as he is vertical with the light tube table behind him.

 

“Luchador’s looking to drop his opponent through that light tube table!” LDP exclaims.

 

From the corner a crumbled Spike looks up and gets to his feet- charging at the Luchador. Vulnerable to attack Luchador gets smacked with an axe handle and he doubles over, letting Rodgers slip away. Jenkins is quick to secure his own front facelock as Bryan Rodgers angrily begins to pound Luchador’s back with punches. He motions to his opponent to move over as he stands next to his opponent and gets his own front facelock.

 

“This doesn’t look good for Luchador at all!” LDP yells.

 

“I love when they work together,” King says.

 

The duo goes for the lift but Luchador’s leg grapevines around Spike’s leg. His other opponent simply lets go of the face lock and smashes him with an elbow to the back to a series of jeers. He then gets back in on the front facelock.

 

“Luchador’s fighting it but I think he’s going through that tube table!” LDP predicts.

 

Spike and Bryan successfully lift the Luchador and both turn around-

 

CRASH

 

They drop down and bring the Luchador through the table. It shatters and seems to shower glass shards as the cloud from light tubes form above. The fans go berserk in jeers with a few peppered cheers for the tag team.

 

“Luchador taking a suplex by both men right through that table,” LDP says. “This could really be it!”

 

The team shows no mercy as they both swoop down and pick IL up from the wreckage. They let him stand and sway in his lack of coordination before picking another move.

 

“See cooperation makes things happen,” King says.

 

Spike Jenkins looks down at the Death Chair laying a few away from him and he’s struck with an idea. He conveys to Rodgers the move before picking up the chair.

 

“They’ve already shown bouts of teamwork when they’re at an advantage, it’s when things begin to crumble,” LDP points out.

 

He side steps behind his opponent and cracks him in the back with the Death Chair! He lurches forward and Rodgers steps underneath him with his arms ready- latching on, tugging him onto his shoulders, and lifting into the air.

 

“He’s got him in the Electric Chair!” LDP shouts.

 

Spike Jenkins nods and walks over to the turnbuckle. Meanwhile Insane Luchador begins to react as he rains down punches to his opponent. Rodgers sways and even has to step to keep his balance as he yells at Spike to move. His partner vaults onto the top turnbuckle as everything clicks in the fans’ heads-

 

 

I! L!

 

The chant begins.

 

The Insane Luchador carefully leans himself over and brings down a hard punch at the awkward angle straight into Rodgers’ face! Jenkins holds the chair to his chest and takes flight as Luchador takes another vicious shot-

 

“Spike’s flying towards Luchador with the chair!” LDP screams.

 

“He’s screwed.” King simply puts it.

 

As the last punch connects Rodgers feels his knees buckle and he begins to lurch forward. The HGC and Cruiserweight Champion seizes his opportunity as he throws his weight down and rolls his opponent up. Spike Jenkins soars over the two as his eyes open wide as saucers- smacking against the mat with chair to his chest. There’s a loud wheeze that comes from Spike as he bounces up into the air and even flips over to his back before crumbling to the other side of the ring!

 

IL! IL! IL!

 

“He reversed it and has the pin!” LDP explodes.

 

ONE!

 

“That amazing reversal could win him this match!” LDP yells.

 

“Damn it, no!” King shouts.

 

 

TWO!

 

Behind them Spike Jenkins staggers to his feet as his torn up chest from the Death Chair begins to pump blood. But in his determination and rage he picks back up the chair and stares.

 

 

THRE- but Rodgers’ breaks free and Luchador doesn’t waste time to mourn. He rolls to his feet and turns around to see a rushing Spike Jenkins.

 

“These men are now just using the reserve tank because they know if any of them plays it right this could be over!” LDP yells. “This wasn’t nearly the walk in the park Rodgers or Jenkins thought!”

 

“It’s Luchador, who can blame them?” King burns the dual champion.

 

Behind him Bryan Rodgers reaches an arm out and grabs the end of one broken light tube and he rolls to his feet. Luchador waits for Spike to attack but instead gets the light tube scrapped down his back! Jenkins rapidly approaches with his chair ready to make the blow. Luchador groans as the light tube rips through his shirt and flesh while the Maniac drags it down. Insane Luchador barks in pain as the Maniac stands above him as he looks to begin the same process down Luchador’s neck! The fans jeer and wince in sympathy for the dual champion. Spike Jenkins draws back Rodgers’ signature chair and gets ready to swing-

 

“Now that’s brutality!” King cheers on.

 

Bryan Rodgers tugs away the light tube and Spike goes for the swing as Luchador drops down the canvas in agony along with protection. Cheers arise as Jenkins can’t stop the chair’s momentum as it smacks his partner with the Death Chair right in the face! Bryan Rodgers is plastered against the canvas as Jenkins immediately looks to Luchador.

 

“Bryan’s beginning to bleed and he may be out!” LDP observes.

 

Your Psychotic Hero rolls away and onto one knee. He begins to stand up right as the chair comes crashing down-

 

“Luchador dodges the chair shot!” LDP cries out.

 

 

Spike grunts in frustration but aims again with a mighty swing only for it to be evaded.

 

“Feel the breeze!” King taunts.

 

This time Jenkins steps behind the Luchador and swings it like a baseball bat-

 

SMACK!

 

Luchador falls to one knee as it nearly snaps his vertebrae. He begins to stumble forward as Spike takes a run at the ropes. He comes rocketing back at his opponent who begins to stand back to his feet. He begins to bring the chair above head but the Insane Luchador launches out a kick to his opponent’s gut! Spike Jenkins drops the chair and IL locks a headlock. He leaps into the air and tugs him down, dropping him down with the Evenflow DDT with a sickening thud that vibrates through the arena! The fans go absolutely insane and the cheers could rock Tokyo more than any entrance by Godzilla versus King Kong. He flops Spike off of the chair, revealing the dent, and revealing the blood being to flow down his opponent’s face. With a thunderous roar of approval he hooks the leg with the cover-

 

“EVENFLOW ONTO THE DEATH CHAIR!” LDP hollers.

 

ONE!

 

“This should do it!”

 

“How incompetent can two men be?” King explodes.

 

 

TWO! Bryan Rodgers staggers towards the two-

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

The fans cheers continue to pour in as it drowns out Alice in Chain’s “Man in the Box.”

 

“YOUR WINNER… IIINNNSSSAAAAANNNEEEEEE LLLUUUCCCHHHHHAAADOOOR!”

 

 

“Insane Luchador overcomes the handicap odds with the Evenflow DDT!” LDP recaps. “But don’t go away because we have so much more!”

 

-Fade to Black-

Edited May 20, 2005 by Justice

[Ace309 0]

Ben Hardy is backstage.

 

“Folks, I’m here with former SWF Cruiserweight Champion Scott Pretzler. Mr. Pretzler, the fans of the SWF seem to think that you owe them an explanation for your actions last Friday against Wildchild.”

 

Pretzler looks at him quizzically.

 

“My actions? Do refresh my memory.”

 

“Well, you demolished his cranium with a steel chair and cost him the Cruiserweight Championship.”

 

“Oh, that. The reason I asked is because I wasn’t sure that needed an explanation.”

 

“But, Mr. Pretzler, it was a blatant flouting of the rules. And you do preach the values of honor and respect.”

 

To this, Pretzler smiles and grabs the microphone from Hardy’s hand.

 

“One thing I particularly adore is the accusations of hypocrisy that have been leveled at me. How, they ask, can a person who claims to promote sportsmanship and pure wrestling, how can this person continue to preach such values while blatantly interfering in match after match? How can his words be taken seriously when his actions contradict them? In truth, there is no contradiction at all. This is merely a case of the end justifying the means.”

 

He pauses and straightens his collar.

 

“I have made it no secret that I detest the Wildchild. Every time he steps into the ring and performs one of his ludicrous tumbles, my blood boils. Every time such behavior is applauded by the fans, steam pours from ears, nose, and various bodily cavities. What bothers me above all is when apologists make the argument that by taking unnecessary bumps and performing three flips in a row when zero would do just fine, that when he does this, Wildchild is sacrificing his body for the art of wrestling. Excuse me? This could not be further from the truth. Rather, it is wrestling that is sacrificed each time he somersaults from a ladder or dives through a wooden table. It is not his safety that is disregarded – it is the hard work and reputations of men like Lou Thesz and Karl Gotch, men like Toshiaki Kawada and Aja Kong, men like Tom Flesher… and me, who have devoted ourselves wholly and truly to this great sport. A few weeks ago when I was at the gym, I decided to test myself. As preparation for my match at Battleground, I performed 2500 repetitions of the exercise known as the Hindu Squat. Keep in mind that a person just beginning to use the Hindu Squat in his routine is advised to do no more than twenty or thirty. Five hundred is my standard. But I wanted to be sure I was ready for my match, so I quintupled that number. While I was doing them, I felt just fine and dandy. I loved life. I was a rainbow of joy. A shoot shimmering rainbow of joy.

 

“The next day, I woke up and tried to get out of bed. I could not. I tried to move my knee joints past forty-five degrees. I could not. When, hours later, I finally managed to crawl into the bathroom and heave my magic wand over the edge of the toilet bowl, it was not urine that came out but a thick brown substance resembling Mr. Pibb. Because, you see, I had destroyed so much muscle fiber during my workout that I was literally pissing it out. This went on for several days. Several days of non-stop agony. Now that, my friends, is dedication. But the more one loves professional wrestling, the more one cannot help but wince at the actions of the Wildchild. ”

 

He crosses his arms and nods, seemingly satisfied. Hardy takes the microphone and begins to speak.

 

“Some rather inflammatory words of wisdom from the former champion,” says Hardy—and Pretzler suddenly wrenches the microphone from his hand once more.

 

“And let me say something else. Wildchild, hen you denied me a second shot at the Cruiserweight Championship, you thumbed your nose at the concept of sportsmanship. As far as I’m concerned, you deserved to lose ever brain cell that those chair shots cost you. And as you may also know, I consider myself a fairly close acquaintance of Mr. Tom Flesher. During our most recent conversation, I spoke to him at length regarding the cruiserweight division. And the title. You see, you, Insane Luchador, and myself are the top ranking members in this division. The Luchador is the reigning champion, and you, of course, were recently defeated by him for that very title. Which means…

 

”I am the next one in line. If all goes as planned – and there’s no reason why it should not – I will be receiving my long-belated championship match next Monday on Smarkdown. Make no mistake: Rickmen will be disposed of in short order. There will be a new champion. And when I wear the belt once more, I will go out of my way to ensure that you will never be given another opportunity to regain it.

 

“Then again, if I were you I’d be worrying less about Scott Pretzler and more about my tag team title match tonight. Just some friendly advice. Now if you’ll ex—“

 

“You son of a beetch!”

 

As Pretzler’s gaze wanders to his right, he suddenly glimpses an enraged Wildchild charging in his direction… very, very fast.

 

He drops the microphone and runs for dear life. He rounds a corner and disappears from sight, Wildchild sprinting after him so recklessly that he knocks over the cameraman, causing the camera to clatter to the floor and black out.

[Ace309 0]

Fade in…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Funyons bellows, “the following contest is a non-title match and scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit!”

 

“SO DO YOU WANNA BE A FRANCHISE!”

 

“AND LIVE LARGE!”

 

 

*CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!*

 

 

“A BIG HOUSE…

 

FIVE CARS…

 

THE RENT CHARGE!”

 

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

 

“Comin up in the world…

 

Don't trust nobody—gotta look over your shoulder constantly!"

 

As the opening lyrics from Rock Superstar by Cypress Hill, slightly altered of course, blare over the PA system and as the self proclaimed franchise makes his way through the curtain the crowd raises its’ cheering to a new level! The lights come back up and Francis nods his head to the beat, ice blue Oakley’s reflecting the multi-colored explosion of lights. Mak steps forward tilting his shades down on the bridge of his nose, before looking left and then right…

 

“I remember the days…

 

When I was a young kid grownin’ up…

 

Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!”

 

 

*FWIIIIIIIIIISH-BANG!*

 

 

Black and Green streamers explode forth in the Budokan – the colors of the Franchise – in a show of respect for the young grappler!

 

“Making his way to the ring—from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and weighing in tonight at two hundred and forty pounds!” Funyon says, “He is one the true “FRANCHISE”… MAK FRAAAAAAAAAAAANCISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

 

The Franchise’s trench coat billows behind him as he comes down the walkway, sliding under the bottom rope and popping to his feet, a serious smirk across his face as he thrusts both fists into the air, walking around with a swagger that only the Franchise can. Hopping up onto the nearest turnbuckle, Mak looks on as waves of flashes go off around him.

 

“Mak seems very under control considering the interview he gave about Spike kicking out of the Franchise Tag…”

 

“Well what’s the point of getting upset when you know you’re going to lose… I mean four in a row? God that’s more loses than I had in my entire career!”

 

“Sure…”

 

“And add to that Spike Jenkins not only beating him, but kicking out of his best move and that doesn’t bode well for a match against Jay Hawke!”

 

“Now that may have some actually truth behind it, King.”

 

Suddenly, the lights in the arena return to a multi-colored strobe…

 

“And his OPPONENT!” says Funyon, as the mood begins to change.

 

…And 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 red and white robe really is. He looks at the crowd – and the setting – in disgust before making his way to the ring.

 

”From Cleveland, Ohio and weighing tonight at two hundred and fifteen pounds!” Funyon says. “He is the reigning Smarks Wrestling Federation INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION… “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” … JAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

*FWIIIIIIIIIIISH-BANG!*

 

Red and white streamers are thrown about, as Hawke continues towards the ring. Jay Hawke walks up the steel steps onto the apron, wipes his feet on the bottom of the apron and then steps through the ropes. Hawke shoots an ugly look at the crowd and flips them off, wondering if the Japanese crowd even knows what the obscene hand sign means. Changing tactics, Hawke pulls down his eyelid and sticks out his tongue, just to be sure the crowd gets the point! He discards his robe and turns to look the Franchise in the face.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Once again folks, this match is non-title, but a win here for Mak Francis could halt his skid and get him back on the winning track!” Pete says, as Hawke and Mak turn the circle testing the foreign ring. “While for Jay Hawke a high profile win over Mak could be just the thing to push him up the rankings ladder!”

 

*Ding! Ding! Ding!*

 

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

 

“Mak’s technique is trash compared to Jay Hawke’s!” King chimes in, as Hawke smugly looks down his nose at Francis and brushes some imaginary dirt from the shoulder that made contact with Mak. “See, he sullied Hawke’s shoulder just by touching it. Can’t let any of those bad technical skill rub off!”

 

Finished his taunt, Hawke backpedals into the ropes again, rushing forward and causing the Franchise to flip over onto his belly. On his return, the Franchise reaches out for Hawke – but the Dean of Professional Wrestling grabs him by the arm and plants his feet, sending Francis away in a mid-motion whip! Mak flies off in the same direction his opponent was going, regaining control of himself as he comes running back toward Hawke looking for a Franchise worthy shoulderblock of his own… but Hawke leapfrogs!

 

Mak skids to a stop, as Hawke lands back on the mat and nods his head arrogance oozing off him, as he turns-

 

*SLAP!*

 

-Only to get the shit slapped out of him by Mak Francis! Hawke’s head swivels to the right, as he stumbles from the open hand assault. Mak flashes a cocky smirk and grabs a side headlock, flinging Jay to the canvas in a takedown!

 

“Hawke tempted fate by taunting the Franchise and he got slapped back to reality.” Pete says, noting the action. “You don’t want to trade insults in the ring with Mak Francis because over his career, few have outdone him.”

 

On the mat, Hawke rubs his jaw, but quickly gets back to the task at hand, attempting to counter the side headlock. Francis, feeling Jay get into position for a head-scissors, quickly spins into a front headlock, sandbagging all his weight onto Hawke’s neck! Feeling the pressure on his neck, Hawke reaches under trying to gain wrist control over Mak, so that he can transition into a hammerlock, but Francis is one-step ahead yet again, floating out of the facelock and into an amateur waistlock! Hawke attempts to sit out, but Francis continues to dominate in the back mount, standing over his opponent. Mak rears back and-

 

*WHACK!*

 

-smashes his forearm across the bridge of Hawke’s nose in a cross-face! Mak measures his opponent yet again and sends his left arm rifling down-

 

*WHACK!*

 

-crashing into Jay’s jaw with another brutal forearm blow! The Franchise’s right arm is not far behind-

 

*WHACK!*

 

-with a third, unbelievably stiff cross-face!! This one is so snug, the Japanese crowd has to acknowledge…

 

*CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!*

 

…With polite applause! “No, you’re supposed to ‘Boo’ you idiot Japanese—don’t clap!” King yells, as the crowd continues to show support for the Franchise. “I liked this a lot better when Spike was on the receiving end!”

 

Hawke scrambles his way to the ropes and shouts at Eddy Long to give him a break. Mak backs away and Hawke gets up, upset but under control. At Jay’s signal they come together in a collar and elbow again, but Francis swings Hawke down to the canvas in an amateur arm drag and follows up by attempting to bar the arm, but Hawke will have none of that. Jay Hawke fights to his feet with elbows to the Franchise’s rib cage and then suddenly gains wrist control, flashing around Mak’s right arm and driving it down towards the canvas!!

 

“A Fujiwara arm-bar!” Pete says. “Hawke going after the injured right arm quickly!”

 

“Uh, he didn’t just make up the Dean of Professional Wrestling nickname.” King responds. “He got it because he’s smart in the ring.”

 

Parts of the crowd rise to their feet to see the action, as Hawke pushes for all he’s worth to take the kneeling Mak down. Mak braces himself with his other arm, to avoid the flash submission – but Hawke doesn’t go quit, so instead of going down; Mak rolls forward to break the hold – succeeding! Both Francis and Hawke end up on their backs, but the Franchise swings his legs around the left arm of the Dean and attempts to latch on tight with a cross arm-breaker!

 

“No, Jujigata-me!” Pete bellows. “Mak answers back with a cross arm-breaker!”

 

Hawke locks his hands together quickly and once again makes his way to the ropes for a break. The Japanese crowd gives another respectful clap, as both men disentangle themselves. Long asks Hawke if he can continue and Jay nods his head, getting back up to his feet and shaking out his arm. Once again, Hawke becons for a collar and elbow and since he’s controlled all three, Mak accepts moving forward… directly into a thumb to the eyes from the Dean of Professional Wrestling!

 

“What a technical display from Jay Hawke with that Greco Roman thumb lock!” King says, as Hawke moves in on his stunned prey.

 

“That’s just blantant disregard for the rules, King.” Pete counteracts. “No real technical skill involved there.”

 

An accomplished technical wrestling in his own right, Jay spins Francis down to the canvas with his own amateur arm drag and attempts to bar his arm.

 

“Short arm scissors by the Dean of Professional Wrestling and his plan of attack hasn’t changed from previous matches. In fact it’s comparable to Mak’s in that they both love to use arm work to control an opponent.” Pete notes, as Long checks the hold and the shoulders of Mak.

 

“You can bet the Wing Span will make an appearance tonight, Pete!”

 

Mak immediately gets his legs underneath him and rocks forward slightly, shifting his weight backwards stacking Jay Hawke onto his shoulders. “Reversal!” Pete yells, as Long darts around to check Hawke’s shoulders and counts…

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T—No! Mak feels an unexpected tug on his arm, as Hawke forward rolls off his shoulders and right back into the short arm-scissors! Long hovers over Francis and gets read to hit the mat, spotting Francis flat on his back, so Mak shoots his shoulders off the canvas and again quickly repeats the same process! Long darts around to check Hawke’s shoulder again and counts…

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO—No! Hawke is a very sound technician and won’t be pin by the same move for long. “Not even a two count that time, for Mak.” Pete notes, as Mak stacks Hawke on his back, but Jay instinctively raises a shoulder, so the Franchise continues lifting the two hundred and fifteen pound Hawke up into the air, with one arm! His bad right arm, no less! The Japanese crowd once again shows respect.

 

*CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!*

 

“What strength shown by the Franchise on a bad arm!” Pete shouts, as Mak picks Jay up for a one armed Powerbomb – but the Dean of Professional Wrestling is aware of this counter as and letting go of Mak’s arm at the apex of the hold, he slides down the Franchise’s back, pulling at his thighs and wiggling him into a sunset flip roll up!

 

“Sunset flip!”

 

Long falls to make a count – but even before he can slap the mat, Mak rolls through and grabs beneath both of Hawke’s legs stacking him on his back!!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO—No! “Jay Hawke counters!” King shouts back, as Hawke flips Mak upside down and back onto his shoulders, kicking his legs out and stretching them across Francis’ for the pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRE—NO! Mak explodes forward his arms wrapped around Hawke’s legs, sitting on Jay’s chest in a leverage pin! Long counts…

 

“Counter! Francis counters!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE—NO! The two warriors break apart, Mak rolling back, as Hawke slides into a crouch. Just as Mak attempts to get up-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-Hawke explodes to his feet and BLASTS Francis with a lariat!!

 

“That’s what I’m talking about Hawke!” King says, as Jay Hawke leans over the downed Franchise and proceeds to choke the life out of him!

 

“One!”

 

“Two!”

 

“Three!”

 

“Four—Break Hawke!”

 

And the Dean does so; satisfied for the moment that Mak’s not going to pull anymore roll-ups or counters out of his ass. Hawke picks Mak up by the hair and snitches in a front headlock, quickly spinning down to the canvas in a swinging neckbreaker! Hawke slides back up to his feet and rapidly drops Mak back to the canvas with a second neckbreaker! Sitting up, the Dean claps his hands together and falls into a pin, allowing Eddy Long to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—No! Only a two count! “Hawke in control with those multiple Swinging neckbreakers, but only gets a two count!” Pete comments, as Hawke extends Mak’s arm and begins to drop knee after knee across the injured wing!

 

“Hawke is back on track, Pete.” King says, while Jay wrenches the arm between his knees and falls to the ground in an attempt to hyperextend it. “Mak Francis has nearly tapped out more times in the past month than over his entire career, so all Hawke needs to do is keep on the arm and get the win!”

 

Picking Mak up to his feet, Hawke pins Francis’ arm behind him in a hammerlock and tucks his head underneath Mak’s armpit, elevating him up overhead in a Northern Lights suplex!! The pinned arm stays trapped underneath, as Jay holds the bridge, waiting for Eddy Long to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE—NO! Mak jerks his good arm into the air on instinct hitting the Dean in the ribs with a punch! Hawke hovers over Francis and reapplies the hammerlock looking to keep control of the Franchise, but Mak fights in the hold, getting up to a knee, and swinging away with elbow, after elbow, after elbow, gaining some separation! Mak looks to run the ropes, but Hawke reaches out and grabs him by the hair wrapping an arm around his throat from overhead and yanking him down in a reverse headlock neckbreaker, onto bended knee! The Franchise spasms under the attack to his neck – and back – and falls to the canvas, as Hawke covers and Long counts…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-NO! “TWO! TWO!” Long shouts, putting his two fingers up in the air for all to see. A guy in the front row raises a “NI!” sign to everyone’s amusement. Hawke stands staring a hole into the official and then signals for the Wing Span, stalking behind his opponent as he stumbles to his feet…

 

 

…And he locks it in!!

 

“Mak’s in REAL trouble now!”

 

And Pete is absolutely correct, as Hawke hangs on his back trying to pull Mak down to the canvas! Jay laces a leg about the Franchise’s arm attempting to finish his hold, but Mak backpedals, slamming Hawke into the corner! The Dean won’t give up on his finisher that easily so Mak slams him into the turnbuckle one more time. Turning about and breathing heavily, the Franchise grits his teeth and sends Jay Hawke spiraling into the turnbuckle pads with an Irish whip! The Dean of Professional Wrestling hits the corner back first and stumbles out, clearly dazed, as Mak rebounds off the near ropes behind him, looking for a bulldog-

 

-But Hawke ducks his attempt to make the truth hurt, lacing his arms around Mak’s body and hoisting him overhead in a beautiful German suplex!!! Mak sits center ring holding his neck in pain, as Jay gives the cut throat sign and heads up top!

 

“I don’t get why anyone would want to associate themselves with Cutthroat of all people…” King quips forgetting he likes Hawke for a second, as Jay spreads his arm…

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

And leaps off the top HITTING the diving headbutt!!! Hawke holds his head for a brief second and then rolls into a pin hooking the leg.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

“No! Only Two!” Pete shouts as Mak somehow, someway gets a shoulder up off the canvas. Hawke wondering how Francis kicked out, picks him up by the hair and drags him over to the corner, placing him on the top rope backwards! Mak tries to fight Jay off swinging away with back elbows. The Japanese crowd rises again, as Hawke pounds on Francis with clubbing blows to the back! Then loops underneath him looking for a Super Backdrop suplex – but Mak counters the belly-to-back superplex, sending them falling back down to the mat in a cross-body from the top!!!!

 

 

 

*BAM!*

 

 

 

Mak falls in a heap, holding his arm in agony but knowing that he may just be able to sneak out a win! Slowly but surely he makes his way over to Jay Hawke, who had his eyes open a second ago, but now they are closed. Mak covers, Long counts and so does the crowd…

 

 

“ICHI!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

”NEE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

”SAN!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“NOOOOOOOO! COUNTER~!!!!” King screams, as Hawke kicks out — but not only does the self Dean of Professional Wrestling kick out… he grabs a hold of Mak’s right arm and transitions beautifully sliding into a fujiwara arm bar and this time Mak is all the way down on the mat!

 

“Fujiwara!” King shouts. “He was play possum and now Mak’s gotta’ tap!”

 

Francis hollers in agony as the shooting pain continues to burn in his arm! It’s only been a few seconds and he can barely stand the pain!! But Francis, nothing else left to save him, reaches back and laces his arm in between Jay’s leg’s, and rolls into an amateur cradle!!! Long counts…

 

 

“ICHI!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“NEE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“SAN!”

 

 

 

 

“NO!” Long shouts, waving off the pin! “ONLY TWO!” he continues, as Mak rolls away clutching at his injured wing, disappointed he didn’t get the three. Hawke pops up to his feet pissed and blasts Mak with a punch to the face and then picks him up! Groaning, Francis slumps and cradles his arm, as Hawke comes up behind him and locks a waistlock around the Franchise. Parts of the crowd rise to its’ feet – as Hawke pulls him a few steps closer to center ring-

 

 

*BAM!*

 

 

-And hits a high-angle backdrop suplex!!

 

"Head-drop!” King shouts in ecstatic joy, while most of the crowd cringes. Francis lands high and tight on his neck, flopping to his belly like a fish – but suddenly pops back up to his feet letting out a primal roar of-

 

“NO POBO!”

 

-And on instinct swings his leg forward-

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

-PLASTERING Hawke with a Yakuza Kick!!

 

“What the hell was that?” King questions, “How is he even standing after that supl-” and just that quickly King’s question is answered as Mak falls back to the mat, clutching his neck.

 

“In Japan, no selling is an art form.”

 

“True, but what I find funny is that Hawke knocked Mak back about three weeks when we were in Mexico with that head-drop!” King jokes. “No pobo indeed!”

 

With both men down and seemingly not moving, Eddy Long starts the ten count…

 

“ICHI!”

 

“NEE!”

 

“SAN!”

 

“SHI!”

 

“GO!”

 

“RO-KO-”

 

Both shakily make it up to their feet, but Mak is first to act, raising his leg going for another high kick…

 

…But Hawke ducks underneath and grabs Mak about the waist looking for his second German suplex of the match! He heaves, but Mak laces his leg with Jay’s and gains wrist control with his good arm!

 

“Standing switch!” Pete shouts, as Mak ducks in behind Hawke so as not to eat a back elbow, while grabbing him about the waist! The crowd is all standing after the previous display of no-selling into a standing ten count. Mak, his right arm shaking in pain heaves for all he’s worth, tossing Hawke 270 degrees onto his belly!!!

 

*THUD!*

 

Hawke lands face first onto the canvas and the crowd explodes in applause, more flash bulbs going off.

 

“There’s that ‘Super-filthy’ German suplex we’ve seen from Francis recently, King!” Pete shouts, as Mak falls to the ground staring up at the lights of the Budokan! “He just gave the Dean a lesson on how to throw a REAL German suplex!”

 

And once again they are both down for a ten count. Long does his job and begins to count…

 

“ICHI!”

 

“NEE!”

 

“SAN!”

 

“SHI!”

 

“GO!”

 

“RO-KO!”

 

“SHICHI!”

 

“HACHI-”

 

And at eight both men make it too their feet!! Jay Hawke rushes forward swinging away in a lariat, but Mak ducks underneath, grabbing Hawke in a half nelson and wrapping his other arm about his neck, yanking him down across his knee in a Three quarters backbreaker!!! Mak picks Hawke up off the ground and tries to whip him, but Hawke tugs on his weakened arm and reverses, sending Mak into the ropes. The Franchise halts himself in the ropes and Jay runs towards him in a blind charge, only to get elevated up and overhead in a release Northen Lights suplex over the top rope – but luckily Hawke grabs the cable and regains his balance. Mak turns around and-

 

*POKE!*

 

“ROLLING THUMB!” King bellows in glee, as Hawke pops Mak in the eye with his opposable digit. The Franchise stumbles back away from the ropes, holding his face, as Hawke sizes him up. Holding the ropes, Hawke leans back and slingshots himself up to the top rope, balancing for a second, before leaping off in a flying clothesline! Jay extends his arm, looking for the clothesline, when suddenly Mak turns around, taking a giant step forward-

 

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

 

-And FORCE FEEDS HAWKE HIS BOOT YAKUZA KICKING HIM OUT OF MID-AIR!!!!

 

Jay Hawke falls to the mat like a sack of meat, spread eagle, as Mak tumbles to the canvas with him, his foot leaving from just underneath Hawke’s jaw!!!

 

“Holy sh-[beep]!” Pete shouts, as the Japanese crowd once again shows approval of the match with a respectful clap. “He kicked his goddamn head off! This time the cheating that has worked all match backfired on Hawke!”

 

Mak sits on his back, staring up at the lights, trying to catch his breath and go for what should be an academic cover. King bemoans the situation, acting like he wasn’t impressed moments ago. “Yeah it was oka—hey, what the hell is he doing?”

 

The Franchise slowly gets up to a knee grabbing Hawke by the hair and tries to stand…

 

“I think Mak Francis is making sure this match is over, King.”

 

“And now we go to school” Mak shouts out, with a smirk for the audience as he slaps on a front facelock, his right arm shaking in pain…

 

 

“He’s going for the Franchise Tag, but can he get Hawke up?” Pete questions. “Although, he was able to get Spike up and look where that left him. I guess the real question is could Hawke kick out if he hits it?!”

 

 

He cradles the leg with his left and locks his hands together…

 

 

“I still can’t believe Spike kicked out of the Franchise Tag, Pete!” King says, shaking his head. “I mean what does that say about the move, if Spike Jenkins kicked out of it!”

 

 

And with a pained grunt, middling between a snarl and a shout of agony, lifts Jay Hawke into the air!!!

 

 

“HE GOT HIM UP!” Pete screams, as Mak pauses for a second, his arm quaking under the pressure of maintaining the cradle… before kicking his legs out, jumping into the air and simply sending Hawke’s head careening into the canvas with the cranium crushing FRANCHISE TAG!

 

 

 

“If Spike can do it, Hawke should have no problem…” King mumbles…

 

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

 

The Suicide King cringes at the sound of the impact, and Pete just shakes his head. The crowd shows their appreciation with a standing ovation!

 

*CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!*

 

“I have been wrong before, but I don’t think Hawke will be kicking out of that…” Pete says stunned, as Mak lies back into a cover, draping his body across the near-unconscious form of his opponent. Long drops to make his count, the crowd politely chanting along…

 

 

“ICHI!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“NEE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“SAN!”

 

 

 

*Ding! Ding! Ding!*

 

“The winner of this match, by pinfall… “THE FRANCHISE”… MAK FRAAAAAAAAAAAANCISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

 

Long bends down and raises Mak’s left hand in the air, as he cradles his right. The Japanese crowd continues their cheers, as Francis pushes himself up to his feet.

 

“As heated as Mak Francis was, maybe it’s a good thing Hawke didn’t kick out of the Franchise Tag, because I don’t know what Mak would do if somebody kicked out of it again.” Pete says. “But he needed the win and got it, after a brutal kick to the face and the Franchise Tag! With Mak Francis back on the path to success it won’t be long until he’s gunning for one of the two men in the Main Event tonight.”

 

“Please, both Ejiro and Toxx made him tap like a bitch, back to back! I don’t think he wants any more of either of them.”

 

“They made him tap, King.” Pete says. “I’d say that’s more than enough of a reason.”

 

Pete’s words hang in the air as Lockdown fades…

[Ace309 0]

“Welcome back, dear viewers, to SWF Lockdown!” announces the cheerful voice of Longdogger Pete.

 

“Yes,” says color commentator Suicide King. “And we are here tonight in the sold out – excuse me, super no vacancy – Nippon Budokan in Tokyo, Japan. Over the years, the Budokan has been home to some of the greatest wrestling matches in this sport’s history… like Toyota Mitsubishi vs. Samsung Nintendo.”

 

Pete throws him a puzzled and concerned look, to which King responds by grinning and shrugging his shoulders as if to say, ’they’re not gonna know the difference.’

 

“In any event,” Pete rambles on, “the next match coming your way should be a great one. The last time Scott Pretzler and Lil’ Buck locked horns, it was in the bizarre Butte Death Match in which Buck defeated Pretzler by dropping him on his head and pushing him into a lake. Needless to say, Pretzler was not happy…”

 

“…and tonight,” continues King, “he will get the chance to take out his unhappiness and settle the score by defeating Buck in an actual pro wrestling match, which he will undoubtedly do.”

 

“We shall see, King, we shall see.”

 

“Yes, we shall.”

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Funyon bellows, causing Don Imus to lose control of his bowel functions. “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL!”

 

The arena is suddenly assailed by the thumping sounds of Crime Mob’s “Knuck If You Buck.”

 

“Introducing first, from Lanett, Alabama, weighing two hundred seventy pounds… LIL’ BUUUUUCK!”

 

Lil’ Buck strolls down the ramp and raises his pimp cup high, then takes a swig. He’s wearing baggy jeans and Bo Jackson KC Royals jersey. He carefully sets down his pimp cup by the announce table and slides into the ring.

 

“And his opponent…”

 

The speaker system comes alive with the Ninth Symphony of Ludwig Von Beethoven, and Scott Pretzler steps out onto the entryway. He places his hands on his hips and looks around proudly, assuming that in a venue so hallowed and a country with such a rich wrestling tradition, he will finally be given the respect he deserves. To his dismay, he is greeted by a chorus of hateful boos!

 

“From Toronto, Ontario, weighing two hundred twenty-six pounds… SCOTT PRRREEEETZLEEEER!”

 

His eyes suddenly bulge and his chest begins to thump. He marches down to the ring and angrily mounts the steps.

 

“What does Pretzler expect?” Pete asks. “His rudeness and arrogance transcend the language barrier.”

 

“I never knew Japanese fans could be so ignorant,” King sighs wistfully.

 

In the ring, Pretzler and Buck face each other. Buck takes a step forward and makes a noise in his throat, then hocks up an enormous loogie and spits it at Pretzler’s feet. It lands inches away from his royal blue wrestling boots. Instead of caving in to the savagery and spitting back, Pretzler turns his nose up and glares. He then reaches a tentative hand forward, initiating a test of strength. Buck looks at him like his lower lip has been replaced with a scrotum. Pretzler is adamant, though, in being a good sport, and he remains in the same position. Buck looks at the crowd, then points at Pretzler and laughs.

 

“Man, who you think you is? Lookit this crazy-ass ni—”

 

WHAM!

 

With his opponent momentarily distracted, Pretzler moves in and fires off an elbow smash to the face! Buck recoils and Pretzler quickly wrenches his right arm, then drives another elbow down into his shoulder, dropping him to his knees. He is able to use his strength to stand and reverse the arm wringer, putting pressure on the limb of Pretzler, but the Canadian rolls onto his back and kips up, then performs the same reversal and moves behind Buck and traps him in a hammerlock. Buck struggles and is able to counter into an identical hold of his own. Pretzler whips an arm back and catches him in the jaw, then slips out of the hammerlock and performs a drop toehold.

 

“Already, Lil’ Buck’s feeble technique crumbles before his opponent’s superior skill,” King remarks cynically.

 

“Oh, come on! The match is just getting under way – and need I remind you what happened the last time these two met in the ring?”

 

“Um, last time I checked, a remote island in the middle of Lake Yokel doesn’t exactly qualify as a ‘ring.’ Get your facts straight.”

 

When Buck’s face is introduced to the mat, Pretzler abandons the toehold and whirls around to his front, bending over to apply a ground front facelock. The rapper foils his plans by reaching out and grabbing hold of his left leg before throwing it out from under him and causing him to fall flat on his rear end. Pretzler performs a backward roll before Buck can follow up the takedown, then charges forward and knocks him to the mat with a double-leg tackle. Maintaining his hold on the legs, he flips forward and pins Buck in a jackknife hold.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No! Buck powers out of it with a vengeance.

 

“I must admit,” says Pete, “Pretzler is feeling it tonight. Wrestling Wildchild really seems to have aided him in improving his quickness and agility.”

 

“You’re just agreeing with me so I won’t tear you apart with my rapier-sharp wit.”

 

Lil’ Buck quickly stands after escaping the hold, and Pretzler does so as well, dramatically spinning to face his adversary in a crouch position. Realizing they are at a stalemate, both men pause to acknowledge their grudging respect for one another. The crowd claps with admiration.

 

“It’s the patented Indy Respect-Off™!” King exclaims. “But since when has Lil’ Buck shown respect for anybody?”

 

His words could not have come at a more appropriate time. Right before Pretzler can resume his offensive flurry, Buck takes a step in his direction and punches him in the face.

 

WHAP!

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

As Pretzler topples from the force of the punch, Buck leaps on top of him and pounds away.

 

WHAP!

WHAP!

WHAP!

 

Rolling over to momentarily escape the barrage, Pretzler next finds himself being hammered in the back of the neck! He reaches back with his hands and covers the tender area, but Buck straddles him and pries his hands apart, then wallops the spot again. The crowd immediately becomes energized by the beatdown.

 

”BU-KU!

BU-KU!”

 

Seeing no other option, Pretzler braces his hands against the mat and slides his body backward, and out from under the crouching Buck. Finding himself behind his opponent, he clamps on a rear waistlock – but Buck reaches back and wraps a tattooed arm around his neck, then flips him over his hip in a headlock takedown. Pretzler lands hard beneath two hundred and seventy pounds of street-hardened muscle, and Buck locks his hands together to make the hold particularly draining. The lightly tanned face of the Canadian Critic immediately turns the color of Barney the Dinosaur.

 

“It’s really quite amazing,” Pete remarks, “how quickly Lil’ Buck has been able to translate his success as a rap artist into SWF superstardom.”

 

“Rap artist? Isn’t that an oxymoron?” King asks

 

“Lil’ Buck would probably say the same thing about you, only without the ‘oxy.’”

 

“Ha! You should be on Saturday Night Live with jokes like that! Actually, you should, because then the show might become funny,” King replies. “On another note, since when has Lil’ Buck even mentioned that he was a rapper? Or is it simply that he’s black that you assume such things? When’s the last time you mentioned Toxxic being in a punk band, or Scott Pretzler performing in a string quartet?”

 

“What’s with you defending Lil’ Buck in a match against Scott Pretzler?” Pete wonders.

 

Referee Matt Kivell check to make sure the hold doesn’t become an illegal choke, but finds everything legit, and asks if Pretzler will submit. Scott mumbles something resembling ‘no’ and starts to claw at Buck’s hands. With his smaller size, ‘the Critic’ manages to free his head and scurry away from the Gangsta of Love.

 

“Pretzler manages to escape, but that headlock might have left him a bit light headed,” Pete notes.

 

“Kind of like how Jay Hawke was when he beat Lil’ Buck?” King asks.

 

“That was a fluke. I’m actually very surprised that Lil’ Buck didn’t kick out, all things considered.”

 

“Making feeble excuses as to why the wrestler of your choice lost a match? For shame, MacDougal, that’s my job! I mean, aw, crap,” King mutters.

 

Buck charges Pretzler and leaps, but Scott manages to duck under the flying forearm attempt, and Sugarhill’s Finest hits the ropes. The Arrogant Alabaman stumbles back, and Pretzler drops Buck to his knees with a low dropkick. Scott gets up, and leaps, securing Buck in an inverted headlock.

 

“Scott Pretzler just locked on a Dragon Sleeper! He doesn’t seem to have his hands locked just right, but if he can keep it on, Lil’ Buck might soon be tasting defeat again!” Pete exclaims.

 

“You’re finally starting to talk with some sense, Pete! I’m very surprised,” King replies.

 

Pretzler tries to pull Lil’ Buck backwards and thread his left arm underneath Buck’s armpit, but the big man fights back. Scott gives up trying to hook Buck’s arm, and simply leans back, and is successful in pulling Sugarhill’s Finest down. Kivell asks if Buck will submit, but the Gangsta of Love ignores Matt and drives his elbow into Scott’s stomach. Buck slams another elbow into Pretzler, and a man his size can only take so much, and he lets go of Buck. ‘The Critic’ slides away from Buck, but lunges forward and covers the Arrogant Alabaman.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO--NO!

 

“Kick out from Lil’ Buck after he forced Scott Pretzler to release him from that Dragon Sleeper. I really though Pretzler might have had the match won there,” Longdogger states.

 

“You and me both, MacDougal. But, just think, now Scott Pretzler can snap Lil’ Buck’s neck with the Snowflake Clutch!” King shouts gleefully.

 

Pretzler gets to his feet and backs away, allowing Lil’ Buck to rise. This proves to be a mistake, as Buck lashes out with a right hand that sends Pretzler staggering backwards. Buck closes in and nails an overhand left that drops Scott to one knee. Lil’ Buck pauses momentarily to flash his ‘Dirty South’ tattoo to the crowd, but as he turns back to Pretzler, ‘The Critic’ surges up and drives the top of his head into Buck’s jaw.

 

“Interesting desperation jaw breaker variant by Scott Pretzler, but it’s tough to tell who that hurt more, him or Lil’ Buck,” Pete says.

 

“Are you insane, MacDougal? Of course it hurt Lil’ Buck more! What kind of idiot would perform a move that hurts them more than their opponent?” King demands.

 

Buck stumbles backwards while Pretzler cradles his head. ‘The Critic’ shakes off the effects as best he can, and stalks towards the Gangsta of Love, delivering a chop.

 

WHOO!

 

“Even in Japan, the fans know how to properly respond to a good knife edged chop!” Pete exclaims.

 

“Normally, I’d call them sheep, but since it was Scott Pretzler doing the chopping, I’ll let it slide,” King replies.

 

As Buck’s hands go to his chest, Scott reveals his true intentions, and nails the Arrogant Alabaman with an European uppercut. Lil’ Buck takes a step back, and Pretzler fires off another chop.

 

WHOO!

 

And another.

 

WHOO!

 

A third.

 

WHOO!

 

Number four, coming right up.

 

WHOO!

 

“Scott Pretzler doing some rapid-fire chopping reminiscent of Iron Chef!” Longdogger yells.

 

“Hells yeah, bitch! Masaharu Morimoto up in this fucker!” King screams.

 

“What’s gotten into you?” Pete asks.

 

“About a gallon of sake!” King shouts back.

 

Pretzler forces Buck into the ropes, and shoots him to the opposite set. As the Gangsta of Love bounces back, Scott runs forward and leaps, knocking Buck down with a dropkick. Scott scurries over and makes a cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T--NO!

 

“Near fall for Scott Pretzler, but Lil’ Buck has a lot of fight left in him,” Pete says.

 

“And how do you know, MacDougal? Do you have some sort of secret meter that shows how much more punishment a wrestler can take? Isn’t it possible that Lil’ Buck will go down to a hip toss?” King asks.

 

“Well, anything is possible in the Smarks Wrestling Federation, but that scenario seems a bit improbable,” Longdogger Pete replies.

 

“Then shut up about stuff you don’t have any information on.”

 

Scott pulls Buck to his feet, and whips him to the ropes, only Buck reverses. As Pretzler comes off the rebound, Lil’ Buck turns around and lays ‘the Critic’ flat with an elbow. Buck stares at Pretzler for a moment before dropping a knee across his chest. Sugarhill’s Finest pulls back and nails Scott with a left hand. Buck moves in order to achieve a full mount, and blasts ‘the Critic’ with another left. Kivell quickly interjects himself and begins lecturing Lil’ Buck about using closed fists, but the Gangsta of Love flips him the bird and goes back to abusing Pretzler, however, he’s now smashing elbows into Scott’s head.

 

“Come on, ref! Disqualify him! He’s not supposed to be using closed fist punches!” King yells.

 

“Well, most referees have always granted the wrestlers a bit of leeway in regards to that, but Buck did switch to elbows there,” Longdogger points out.

 

Buck shifts his weighs and covers Pretzler, with one forearm grinding against Scott’s jaw.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH--NO!

 

“Lil’ Buck almost got a victory there after pummeling Scott Pretzler, but ‘the Critic’ got a shoulder up,” Pete says.

 

“A cheap victory, if you ask me. A victory that Scott Pretzler would have every right to have investigated and reviewed!” King shouts.

 

Buck gets to his feet, with Pretzler not far behind. Lil’ Buck nails ‘the Critic’ with a forearm, grabs his arm, and sends Scott into the ropes. The Gangsta of Love sticks out an arm, and snares Pretzler, securing a half nelson. Before Sugarhill’s Finest can grab Pretzler’s other arm, Scott reaches up and latches on to Buck’s arm. ‘The Critic’ bends over, sending Lil’ Buck crashing to the mat with an over-the-shoulder arm drag.

 

“Nice judo toss from Pretzler to escape the Champion’s Requiem,” Pete says.

 

“Of course! Scott Pretzler is a technical genius, what else would you expect?” King asks.

 

Pretzler kicks Buck in the back of the head before backpedaling out of the Gangsta of Love’s reach. Buck gets to his feet and charges in, throwing a wild right hand. Scott Pretzler catches Buck’s hand and wraps the arm around Buck’s throat. Before he can drop, Pretzler gets nailed with an elbow in his kidney. Lil’ Buck lands another elbow, and spins out of the arm wrench. Sugarhill’s Finest reaches towards Pretzler and hooks his arms.

 

“Buck-Wild Ride! Scott Pretzler didn’t survive the last time this move was hit, and I don’t think he’ll survive this time!” Pete screams.

 

“Oh, shit,” King mutters.

 

Buck rotates, placing Scott Pretzler on his back, but before the Gangsta of Love can stand up, ‘the Critic’ thrashes his legs and manages to roll out of Buck’s hold, landing on his feet.

 

“He escaped! I can’t believe it, but Scott Pretzler somehow escaped from the certain defeat that is the Buck-Wild Ride,” Pete says.

 

“Yes! There is a God!” King shouts.

 

Pretzler rushes forward, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist, and forces the Gangsta of Love into the ropes. Buck and Pretzler bounce back, and Scott rolls the Arrogant Alabaman up.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR--NO!

 

Buck kicks out, sending Pretzler into the ropes. ‘The Critic’ stumbles back, and bumps into Lil’ Buck just as Sugarhill’s Finest reaches his feet. Buck snares Scott in a sleeper hold and kicks his legs out behind him, pulling Pretzler to the mat.

 

“Bucked Up! Scott Pretzler just got Bucked Up after he almost got the three with that roll up!” Pete exclaims.

 

“Jesus! Will you calm down! It’s not like the building is collapsing around us, so there’s no need to burst a blood vessel in calling the match,” King replies.

 

Buck decides not to keep the sleeper locked on, and pulls Scott to his feet. Lil’ Buck throws a punch, but Pretzler ducks and closes in on Sugarhill’s Finest. ‘The Critic’ throws his right arm across Buck’s chest, grapevines his leg, and falls backwards, driving the Gangsta of Love face first into the mat. Pretzler slides from underneath Lil’ Buck and grabs the Arrogant Alabaman’s arms. Scott wraps Buck’s arms around his own neck and pulls back.

 

“Snowflake Clutch! Yes! Tear that bastard’s head off!” King screams, frothing at the mouth slightly.

 

“Pot, meet the kettle,” Longdogger mutters under his breath.

 

Matt Kivell slides in front of Lil’ Buck, asking if the Gangsta of Love will submit. Buck mouths the word ‘no’ and slides his left knee forward, placing the sole of his foot on the mat. Scott Pretzler pulls back even further, and orders Kivell to ask Buck again, but Buck ignores the referee and slowly rises to his feet.

 

“My God! Lil’ Buck must have tremendous reserves of strength to be able to do this!” Pete yells.

 

“Come on, Scotty! Break his neck like a twig!” King bellows.

 

Pretzler’s feet barely touch the canvas as Buck wobbles towards the ropes. Before he takes five steps, though, the Gangsta of Love teeters, and falls, all of his weight resting uncomfortably on Scott Pretzler. Buck plants his feet on the mat and bridges up, forcing Scott’s arms flush to the mat.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRE--NO!

 

Pretzler is forced to release Buck in order to kick out, and Sugarhill’s Finest rolls away from ‘the Critic’.

 

“Close call for Scott Pretzler, and Lil’ Buck, as Buck couldn’t have lasted much longer in the Snowflake Clutch, and Pretzler was nearly pinned while keeping Buck in the Snowflake Clutch!” Longdogger shouts.

 

“Balderdash! Scott Pretzler knew what he was doing! He was just getting every bit out of the Snowflake Clutch before he let go,” King explains.

 

Pretzler slowly gets to his feet and sees Lil’ Buck crawling toward the ropes. Scott rushes over and drives his knee into the side of Buck’s head. Pretzler drops down and makes a lateral press, Kivell rushing over to count it.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE-NO!

 

“Another near fall, but Lil’ Buck once again managed to kick out! I wonder what it’s going to take to keep him down for the three,” Pete says.

 

“Get him really drunk?” King offers.

 

‘The Critic’ pulls Buck to his feet, and whips him to the ropes, except he doesn’t, as Lil’ Buck reverses. Buck bends down, looking for a back body drop, but Pretzler simply latches on to the ropes and congratulates his wise thinking by tapping his temple. It looks like he might have to retract that gesture, though, as Buck rises up and charges Scott, knocking him over the top rope with a leaping clothesline, Sugarhill’s Finest tumbling out of the ring after him.

 

“What a clothesline from Lil’ Buck! That just might be the move he needs to turn this match in his favor,” Pete says.

 

“Not likely. Scott Pretzler’s going to be in control in spite of that clothesline,” King replies.

 

The two men lay on the ground in a tangled heap, and slowly, Buck pulls himself up. Inside the ring, Matt Kivell takes a moment to realize what’s going on, and starts a ten count.

 

One!

 

 

Buck lifts Pretzler to his feet and nails him with a left hand.

 

 

Two!

 

 

Buck grabs Scott by the back of his head, and slams him into the ring steps.

 

 

Three!

 

 

Buck pulls back for a double axhandle, but Pretzler rolls out of the way, and the Gangsta of Love smashes his hands into the steel steps.

 

“That won’t feel good in the morning,” King notes.

 

“Well, a victory would do wonders for whatever injuries sustained tonight, but if either man wants to win, he’d better get in the ring,” Longdogger points out.

 

Four!

 

 

Scott lashes out with an European uppercut, snapping Buck’s head back.

 

 

Five!

 

 

‘The Critic’ grabs the Gangsta of Love by his left arm and pulls him to the ground with an armbar takedown.

 

“Nice technical move, and that hard concrete only adds to the pain inflicted,” Pete says.

 

“Great job, Pretzler! Now, just climb into the ring and let the referee count out that dolt,” King instructs.

 

Six!

 

 

Pretzler intends to do as Suicide King says, but Buck has a firm grip around Scott’s boots, and yanks him to the ground.

 

 

Seven!

 

 

Buck rolls Pretzler onto his stomach and nails him with a forearm.

 

 

Eight!

 

 

“They’d better hurry up if they don’t want to get counted out,” Pete says, a bit nervous.

 

“Come on, Pretzler! Get a move on!” King shouts.

 

Buck pulls back and bashes Scott in the back of the head with a punch.

 

 

Nine!

 

 

Buck sits up and drives his left elbow into Pretzler’s head.

 

 

Ten!

 

 

Furious, Kivell signals for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

“The following contest has been called a no-contest due to double count out!” Funyon shouts.

 

“Son of a bitch! This is some bullshit! Pretzler had a chance, but that stupid thug, Lil’ Buck didn’t want to wrestle cleanly!” King rages.

 

Buck finishes throwing a few punches before he realizes what has happened. He springs to his feet and starts berating Kivell. Matt shrugs his shoulders and informs him that the decision is final. Buck back to Pretzler and starts stomping ‘the Critic’. Kivell rushes out of the ring and pulls Buck away as a several more officials stream out to restrain the Gangsta of Love.

 

“It looks like Lil’ Buck isn’t too pleased with the outcome of this match, though he’s got nobody to blame but himself,” Pete says.

 

“Yeah, and Scott Pretzler can blame him, too,” King replies.

 

Buck stalks back up the ramp as Kivell helps Scott Pretzler to his feet and Lockdown fades to commercial.

[Ace309 0]

BOOOM!! BOOM!! BOOOM!!! BOOOOOOOOOM!

 

“Welcome to Japan! Welcome to the Budokan! And welcome to SWF LOCKDOWWWWN!” calls out The Longdogger as explosions continue to rock through the air above his head. “This is the Smarks Wrestling Federation and I am your host this evening Longdogger Pete.”

 

“And I am your other, more intelligent and much better looking host The Suicide King.”

 

“And boy do we have action a plenty for you from Japan this evening as Jay Hawke battles it out with The Franchise. Also on tap, Scott Pretzler matches up Lil’ Buck and the tag team champions defend their titles against Martial Law, Manson and Arch Griffon in a TLC match.”

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!

 

“And in the main event,” calls out The Suicide King, “this guy is coming after the World Heavyweight Title!”

 

Coming through the curtains with a clear purpose in mind, Ejiro strides to the ring with absolutely no stops being made to interact even a little bit with the crowd. Not yet in his ring gear, Fasaki is still dressed in a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. Sliding through the ropes and up to his feet, Ejiro looks out to the people for a moment before taking the microphone from his hand and placing it to his lips. On the outside of the ring, an interpreter stands ready to translate whatever the challenger might have to say to the assembled crowd.

 

“You know,” says Fasaki as the Japanese crowd dips into complete silence as they respectfully listen to the translator as he follows up on everything the challenger for the evening has to say. “I wish I could say a lot of things right now about how I want to beat Toxxic tonight for you people. I wish I could say I want to beat Toxxic for the boys in the back who have all tried and failed to bring him down.”

 

Taking a deep breath Ejiro says, “I even want to say that I want to beat Toxxic for my sister. I want to say that it will make her feel better. I want to say that it will ease her suffering. But it is not about that…”

 

“Its not?” asks The Longdogger to no one in particular.

 

”Its about me.”

 

“Its about me and my friend, vengeance. Because the truth of the matter is that I am going to walk back out to this ring in about two hours and wreck a terrible wrath on a man. And I am doing it for ME. So I can go to sleep at night knowing that I did everything I could to destroy the man that took something from ME.”

 

“Because deep down I am a selfish sack of garbage and all I care about is myself. Toxxic took the one thing away from me that I truly loved about my self, my world, and my life. And now he’s got to pay in ways he might not have ever considered. You do not mess with me meat. You do not steal from me. But you did Toxxic. You stole away everything I had that was good in the world and left only the bad. And now the bad is after your hide and it will have it.”

 

“I will take everything Toxxic… just as you took mine. You will know horror my friend. You will know suffering. You will know all the things that I deal with on a daily basis. Because I am a right mad bastard when you strip it all away my boy. What are you when it is all stripped away Toxxic? What are you? Guess what… we’re going to find out. I hope you like what you find a whole lot more than I did. I truly hope you do.”

 

“Because I am going to tear you RAAAAAAAW!”

[Ace309 0]

"Well, as if tonight hasn't been exciting enough, we're set for our double main event. And for the first time in a looooong time, we're bringing out the trump card. We're bringing out the tables...the ladders...and the chairs!"

 

"Now, Pete, if anyone knows about trump cards...it's me." smiles King. "And I'll give you this one. The TLC Match is always one hell of a spectacle."

 

"Last time we saw a TLC Match, it was From The Fire 2003. We're hoping for a more...well, conclusive ending tonight."

 

"Agreed. And to be honest, I'm not the biggest fan of anyone in this one tonight. Griffon and Manson I respect, because they don't take any crap from anybody. You know exactly how I feel about Martial Law. And I've never professed to being a Wild and Dangerous fan either. So, as the strictly impartial announcer tonight..."

 

"That'd make a change."

 

"...even though there's no champion's advantage, the champions HAVE the advantage. Simply because Wild and Dangerous have been here before. They were in the TLC Match at From The Fire. They won the Tag Team Titles in a Ladder Match, from The In Crowd. Hell, Wildchild has more Ladder Match experience than maybe anyone else in SWF history! And he usually wins them."

 

"That is true. And technically, Wild and Dangerous 'won' at From The Fire. But, we'll see if that's the case tonight here in Japan."

 

 

The Japanese crowd go wild...well, wildly respectful...as the opening melodic chords and vocals of "Save Yourself" fade up. Spotlights shine down the entrance ramp, illuminating Landon Maddix and Todd Cortez, with Megan Skye following out behind them. The three stop, surveying the crowd, who are clapping to the beat of the music, as they do. Or...trying their best, at least.

 

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

 

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

 

"SO JUST SAAAVE YOURSELF!"

 

...

 

 

"SSSAAAAAAAAAAAAVVVVVEEE!!!"

 

"Ladies and gentlemen..." begins Funyon, in English (!?!). "...the following contest is the TABLES, LADDERS AND CHAIRS MATCH for the SWF WOOOOORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS!! Introducing first, challenging team number one. At a total combined weight of four hundred, fourty six pounds...the team of Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix and "The Urban Legend" Todd Cortez... MMMMMMAAAAARRRTTIIIAAAAALLLL LLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW!!!"

 

The bi-linguals in the crowd cheer and eventually, the entire crowd get in on the act. As Martial Law makes their way to ringside, Maddix immediately grabs one of the ladders left in the aisleway and carries it with him, pushing it into the ring and then rolls himself into the ring. Cortez stops behind him, looking curiously as his partner is propping the steel implement up just under the dangling SWF World Tag Team Titles.

 

“Seems like someone is in a rush to get out of here tonight?”

 

“Hey, don’t fault the man for wanting to hit up the karaoke bars. Granted it’s the only thing there appears to be able to do in Tokyo nightlife, but still, let him enjoy himself!”

 

Cortez gives his partner a perplexed look from the apron, as Maddix sits on one of the ladder steps and shrugs his shoulders, wondering why Todd looks so confused. Cortez just shakes his head and enters, standing beside the ladder, and that’s when Landon pats him on the back and scurries up the rungs of the ladder and seats himself atop it!

 

“Are you kidding? Maddix is trying to position himself for a win before the match even starts!”

 

”That’s what I call preperation, Pete!”

 

"But Maddix can't retrieve the belts until the bell rings and right now, he's a sitting duck up there..."

 

Suddenly, the crowd cheer again, as Arch Enemy's "We Will Rise" hits, complete with red strobes pulsing and flashing in time with the music. Fog seeps through the entrance and onto the stage, as the song runs through to the lyrics...

 

 

*BOOOOOM!*

 

...and pyro seems to shock the Japanese crowd. After all, it's not that common in Japan. But they're soon cheering away again as Manson bursts through the entrance and throws up the horns. Following out behind, Arch Griffon stops and points to the ring, giving Manson his first view of the perched Maddix.

 

"Introducing, challenging team two! At a total combined weight of five hundred and fourty two pounds...they are the team of MMMAAANNSSSOOOONN... AND AAAAARRRCCHHH GGRRRRRIIIFFFFOOOOONN!!!"

 

The crowd gives out a hearty roar as the two no-nonsense bruisers charge down the aisleway towards the ring, obviously unhappy with Landon’s prematch shenanigans. As they jump up on the apron, Cortez moves towards them and swings away, knocking them both down. Angered, the duo reaches in and drags Cortez out under the bottom rope to the floor, where they begin to pummel him brutally with clubbing blows across the back, all while Landon Maddix watches on from atop the ladder. Finally, Landon sees enough of his partner getting the raw deal and pushes himself up to a standing postion on the second highest rung of the ladder…

 

...AND DIVES DOWNWARD ONTO MANSON AND ARCH GRIFFON!

 

"YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

“Highspot count: 1 for Martial Law!”

 

The crowd is electric as the former World Champion shakes off the cobwebs from his daredevil dive and gets up, delivering a soccer kick to Manson’s ribs as he tries to recover. Cortez pulls Griffon up by the head and starts punching away, then rams his face into the apron and rolls him into the ring. Cortez climbs up on the apron, then looks to his right and sees Maddix rolling Manson into the ring as well. Hopping to the apron with his partner, Maddix pats Cortez on the back and together, Martial Law grip the top rope and brace themselves, because once their opponents are up, they simultaneously springboard in…into the waiting arms of their rivals! Griffon catches Cortez, while Manson is able to catch Maddix, and together they both power forward and smash the backs of Martial Law against the standing ladder, then power them up over their heads...and press them down to the floor!

 

“Man alive! The bell hasn’t even rung yet, and we’ve already got…”

 

Pete is cut off in mid-sentence though, by Prodigy's "Fuel My Fire" hitting and bringing the crowd to their feet once more, as the Tag Team Champions themselves make their entrance!

 

“HERE WE GO!”

 

Immediately, Wild and Dangerous disregard playing to the fans tonight, choosing to rush the ring and go after their rivals.

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Once they hit the canvas the bell is rung by Nick Soapdish, who was growing afraid of the impatience of the challenging teams. W&D have hit the ring, but Manson and Arch quickly overpower them and work them over with the same clubbing blows that were weakening Todd Cortez moments ago. Fighting to his feet, Johnny manages to get Arch in close enough where he can backdrop him over the ropes, sending him out to the floor. Meanwhile Manson tosses the smaller Wildchild to the ropes and catches him with a powersl…NO! Wildchild counters it into an armdrag in mid-move, and as soon as Manson comes to his feet, Johnny charges with a lariat that dumps him over the top rope to the floor as well, leaving Wild and Dangerous the only team in the ring!

 

“The champs have cleared the ring here in the opening minute, and this crowd loves what they’re seeing so far!”

 

Acting quickly, both W&D members start to climb a side of the already in place ladder, but don’t make it very far before they’re yanked back to the canvas; Johnny by Griffon, and Wildchild by Cortez, respectively. Griffon delivers a boot to Johnny’s gut and hits a snap suplex, while Wildchild gets his face smashed into the steps of the ladder and then hurled quickly over the ropes by Cortez! Reacting quickly, Wildchild skins the cat and comes back in. Wildchild then rushes Cortez, ducking a lariat from the Urban Legend and RUNNING up the steps of the ladder enabling him to execute a moonsault press that takes Cortez out!!

 

"Incredible agility from Wildchild! And unparalleled balance, to run up that free standing ladder!"

 

"Crazy..."

 

Wildchild celebrates, but up from the floor comes Maddix, who takes WC’s head and snaps it across the top rope. Maddix then climbs up on the apron to follow up…but gets yanked down by Manson! Manson boots Maddix in the gut and tugs on the arm, trying to whip him into the guardrail, but Landon quickly reaches out and grabs the bottom rope, allowing him to keep his feet planted! Manson tries to pull harder, his efforts distracting him from his surroundings…which allows him to get hit with a baseball slide from Cortez! Manson releases Landon’s arm and stumbles backwards, but Landon brings him forward and allows Cortez to launch himself over the ropes with a pescado that wipes him out!

 

“Martial Law doubling up on Manson, and…OH MY GOD!”

 

Pete’s cutoff of his own commentary is due to Wildchild running the ropes and leaping to the outside onto both members of Martial Law with a NO HANDS CORKSCREW PLANCHAAAAAA~!, crashing down onto both of them as well as the dazed Manson!!!

 

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

The Japanese crowd gasp in awe, as Wildchild lies on top of the pile of bodies, holding his neck with gritted teeth. Now with four competitors on the floor, the ring belongs to Griffon and Dangerous, who continue to slug it out. Johnny tries to stun him with chops, but Griffon keeps coming, pulling Dangerous into a knee to the gut, then sending him to the ropes and catching him in his grasp, powering the SWF’s secret agent up over his head…but Johnny slips out and lands behind Griffon, waiting for him to turn around…and blasts him with the JOHNNY KICK~!

 

 

…NO! Griffon catches the foot and swings Johnny around, hooking both of his arms and then planting him on the canvas with a full nelson slam!

 

With Johnny down and everyone else on the floor, Griffon moves towards the ladder and begins a climb. But Wildchild quickly slides back into the ring and runs over, yanking on Griffon’s leg to try and pull him off! Griffon kicks the small speedball away rather easily, then moves further up the ladder…

 

 

...until Todd Cortez slides into the ring and goes for him as well! With Wildchild and Cortez each tugging on a leg, Griffon gets yanked off the ladder, and in a rare show of alignment, Wildchild and Cortez rock him with a double team back suplex! The two crowd favorites get to their feet, but before they can even acknowledge their teamwork, Cortez grabs WC by the head and pulls him into a standing headscissors...

 

*OOOF!*

 

*URGH!*

 

...and then drops him with a powerbomb ONTO Arch Griffon!

 

“They’ve used the ladder a bit, but for the most part, these guys have been using each other as weapons of destruction! God only knows what could happen with the tables and chairs come into play!”

 

"Pete, weapons of destruction is such a passé term nowadays. Get some new material, would ya?"

 

"This coming from Mr.DrainClogger?"

 

"Yeah, but that'll never get old."

 

Cortez surveys the damage before him, while out on the floor Maddix misses a swing and Manson lifts him up and crotches him on the guardrail! Manson then leans over the ropes and motions for one of the fans to give him a chair, and the scared Japanese SWF supporters scurry out of the way, allowing him to grab one of the metal seats and fold it up. Manson takes a look...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and then blast Maddix across the back with it! Landon falls over into the first row of fans, while Manson turns his attention towards the ring…but catches a baseball slide by Cortez which sends the chair smashing into his face! Rolling on out to the floor, Cortez then picks the chair up off the ground and taps it against the floor once before rearing back...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and clocking Manson between the eyes, putting him on his back, down on the floor!

 

“Oh man! Landon Maddix came out on the worst end of his battle with Manson, but Cortez is avenging his partner tenfold. What a vicious chairshot!”

 

As Manson reels from the blow, his partner Griffon is just starting to come to in the ring, and is immediately grabbed by both Johnny and Wildchild. Griffon gets sent to the ropes, but before W&D can execute any patented double team offense, Griffon blasts the both of them with lariats as he rebounds! Arch then takes the ladder and folds it up, lifting it over his head…AND THEN DROPS IT DOWN ONTO BOTH WILDCHILD AND JOHNNY!! Wildchild and Johnny try to cover up, but simply can't block a flying ladder!!

 

“Man, Griffon’s tossing everything around tonight! The ladder, his opponents…”

 

With the champs in a bad way, Griffon slides the ladder across the ring, then pulls Wildchild up and whips him to the corner. Griffon charges, but Wildchild kicks both feet up, driving them into the jaw of Arch Griffon. WC then pushes himself up onto the top rope. But Wildchild is still dis-orientated, meaning he takes more time than usual to set himself as Griffon charges forward and knocks his legs out from under him, crotching the Bahama Bomber on the top! Griffon then climbs the ropes, setting himself up on the top rope and looking to pull Wildchild up to a standing position…but from behind comes Cortez, who shoves Griffon off the ropes and down to the floor below!

 

“Griffon didn’t see him coming, and you actually can’t fault him for it. This is too much action to take note of!”

 

Cortez now climbs the ropes, and looks to do exactly what Griffon was planning on. He preps WC for a superplex, holding him in a front facelock and bringing him to his feet…however Johnny Dangerous has now run over and positioned himself under Cortez, pulling him off the ropes and resting him atop his shoulders! Cortez drives his right hand into the top of Johnny’s skull, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but Johnny struggles to hold Cortez, keeping him set up just long enough for WC to collect himself. Wildchild gives Johnny a shout and Johnny pivots, facing away from Wildchild, who launches off the top...

 

 

...AND DROPS CORTEZ TO THE MAT WITH THE BULLDOG!!

 

"YYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"DANGEROUS DROP!" cries Pete. “Wild and Dangerous are looking to pull out all the stops tonight! Cortez may be out of the equation already!”

 

"These six men are holding nothing back here, Pete. And I guarantee, they're going to regret it within the next five or ten minutes."

 

Cortez rolls out to the apron, as Wildchild comes to his feet…and is then hit with a back suplex from Maddix...

 

*CRRAAASH!*

 

 

...THAT DROPS HIM ON THE LADDER!!

 

"Make that two or three minutes for Wildchild!"

 

Wildchild rolls around in agony, clutching at the back of his neck, while Johnny spins Maddix towards him and starts peppering him with jabs. Johnny then sends him to the ropes…RIGHT INTO MANSON WITH A CHAIR…NO! Maddix puts the brakes on and backs away from the angered superstar, who enters the ring, chair in hand, stalking Landon. Maddix begs off, continuing to back away…right into Johnny’s grasp…but Maddix quickly counters to a rear waistlock and shoves Johnny forward and INTO THE CHAIR! Head bouncing off the steel, Dangerous staggers back, and Maddix quickly turns him around and lifts him up, dropping him across the top rope with a front suplex! Johnny is left hanging half and half over the top. With a smile, Maddix playfully slaps Johnny across the back of the head, before breaking into a run...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...BUT MANSON INTERCEPTS HIM WITH A VILE CHAIRSHOT!!

 

 

"OH MAN WHAT A CHAIRSHOT!!"

 

"Well, I think Maddix is regretting things right the hell now! If he's still conscious."

 

Manson can't help but smirk, as Maddix lays flat on his back at his feet. The Raging Bull sees Dangerous trying to ease to the apron and quickly charges, barging Dangerous off the ropes and sending him crashing to the arena floor. Now, Martial Law and Dangerous are all out of the picture. And Manson has free run to the belts. Except for the fact that Wildchild is still laid out on top of the ladder. The Raging Bull hurries over and rolls Wildchild off the ladder, leaving him lying under the bottom turnbuckle while he sets the ladder up in the centre of the ring. Taking a glance at the belts hanging high from the ceiling, before glancing over at Wildchild...and beginning his climb.

 

"Here we go, the way is clear for Manson here!"

 

Manson climbs the first few rungs, before he spots Todd Cortez pulling himself to his feet. But Cortez falls back against the railings and Manson climbs on. The Raging Bull is five rungs from the top...

 

...four rungs...

 

 

...and three. Suddenly though, Wildchild is crawling slowly over towards the ladder. Manson's eyes are fixed on the gold belts and Wildchild isn't even in his radar, as he steadies himself and reaches for the belts...

 

 

...just as the ladder begins to teeter underneath him...

 

"Uh oh! Uh oh!"

 

"Look out beloooowww!!"

 

...the ladder is tipping...

 

 

...and Manson is tipping...

 

 

 

 

...but from nowhere, Arch Griffon appears on the other side of the ring and catches the ladder. The shocked Manson makes the mistake off looking down, the ladder on two legs instead of four which prevents him from getting the belts. All Manson can do is hang on a hope. But Griffon is now pushing the ladder. And Griffon has the power advantage, pushing against Wildchild pushing the ladder back to a level standing.

 

"Griffon just saved his partner and now, he's trying to keep Manson steady!"

 

Griffon now holds the ladder in place, shouting up at his partner to retrieve the gold. But just as Manson starts to stand again, Wildchild starts to shake the ladder as violently as he can. Griffon tries to hold the ladder steady, but Wildchild's efforts are stopping Manson. So Griffon releases the ladder and instead grabs Wildchild, hurling him across the ring.

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

As behind him, Johnny SMACKS Manson in the spine with another steel chair, causing him to CRASH to the canvas below!

 

"Dangerous makes the save!" cheers Pete. "Manson was so close, yet so far away right there. He just couldn't get comfortable enough to grab the gold and it cost him, big time!"

 

Manson begins to convulse a little on the mat as Johnny steps over his prone body, leaping onto Griffon's back and locking on a sleeper hold. Flailing, Arch tries to shrug The Secret Agent off. But Wildchild suddenly bursts into life, peppering the 300 pounder with right hands which Griffon can't protect himself from. Still, Griffon is still on his feet though, just as Landon Maddix staggers over and drills him with a knee to the kidneys. Wildchild stops going after Griffon and goes for Maddix, but Madidx holds up his hands...and points to Griffon.

 

"What the hell..."

 

"Is Landon trying to get some sort of teamwork going with Wild and Dangerous?"

 

"I think he is! I think he's trying to gang everyone up on Griffon. What an idiot!"

 

"Idiot? King, if they get rid of Griffon, that's helps them all out."

 

Seemingly thinking the same as Pete, Wildchild stares at Maddix for a moment before shrugging his shoulders...and together, Maddix, Dangerous and Wildchild start to club away on Griffon!! Griffon is under barrage as the unlikely trio batter him with punches, relentlessly, until Griffon falls flat on his face. With a wry smile, Maddix turns to the crowd and sticks his tounge ala Smash of Demolition. Which very few of the fans get. As this is going on, Todd Cortez is rolling back into the ring. Cortez goes to grab Johnny...but Maddix quickly stops him, explaining the situation to his tag team partner. Who seems pretty confused, especially as Landon hands Johnny a chair...and then, hands one to Wildchild. Directing traffic, Maddix (with Cortez's help) pulls Griffon to the centre of the ring and to one knee, before giving a nod. And as he does, Wildchild and Johnny hold their chairs either side of Griffon's head.

 

"Don't tell me Wild and Dangerous are actually helping Maddix and Cortez." sighs Pete.

 

"Well, Wild and Dangerous are assisting Martial Law for...a Collision Course here."

 

That's exactly what it seems, as Maddix points to the opposite side of the ring. He and Cortez criss-cross, hitting opposite ropes and...

 

 

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

 

 

...BOTH GET THEIR HEAD TAKES OFF BY WILD AND DANGEROUS CHAIRSHOTS!!!

 

"YYYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Well, I guess we should have seen that coming." sighs Pete.

 

Johnny and Wildchild stare down at the fallen Martial Law members, hardly able to believe how lucky they are and how stupid Maddix was. They then remember Griffon and quickly set themselves again, aiming for Griffon's head with stereo chairshots...

 

 

*KE-RACK!*

 

...but Griffon ducks the ConChairto! Wildchild and Johnny drop the chair and grab at their hands, as Griffon takes Wildchild by the head and hurls him effortlessly over the top rope. The Bahama Bomber sails over the top and to the arena floor, while Griffon grabs Johnny in his clutches and SLAMS his head into the ladder. Over topples the ladder, landing dangerously close to Manson, who is just now recovering.

 

"I think all Wild and Dangerous and Martial Law succeeded in doing was piss Arch off!"

 

"And now, they might just be paying for it."

 

As Johnny collapses to a seated position, Griffon grabs him by the back on the head and pulls him to his feet. But he takes a desperation kick from Johnny, catching him right in the calf. And a second. Griffon's leg buckles slghtly as Johnny aims a harder, more measured kick at the back of the knee, bringing Arch to one knee. And Johnny clearly seems at home in such a martial arts mecca, as he springs off his feet and catches Griffon in the jaw with a spinning back kick!! The crowd applaud Johnny's abilities, as Manson gingerly advances on The Secret Agent. Johnny catches him with a kick, squarely in the ribs though, before flattening out his hand...AND HITTING A FLURRY OF RAPID FIRE CHOPS TO THE SIDE OF THE NECK!!

 

"My God, Johnny Dangerous, literally chopping the competition down to size here!!"

 

"And that's right out of Manson's playbook!"

 

Manson stands 'till he can't stands no more...at which point, he collapses. As he does, Johnny instinctively grabs the fallen ladder and begins to lift it to a standing position. But he then stops, smirks...folding up the ladder and dropping it to the canvas.

 

"JOHN - EE ICH - EE - BAN!!"

"JOHN - EE ICH - EE - BAN!!"

"JOHN - EE ICH - EE - BAN!!"

 

"Why are they chanting for Annie Onita?"

 

"They're not King. Ichiban means 'number one'."

 

"All I know is, somewhere in some sort of weird bi-curious brothel, Annie Onita is calling the lawyers as we speak."

 

Applauding the chants, Johnny picks up the nearest body to him...which happens to be Landon Maddix. Maddix has been busted open already from the two sick chairshots he's taken in the match, blood staining his forehead as Johnny brings him to his feet and applies a full nelson.

 

"DAAANGEROUS DRIVAAAAA..."

 

Johnny gets cut off though, by a double axehandle to the back from Cortez. The Urban Legend stops and clutches his throbbing cranium, allowing Johnny to shoot a kick back into Cortez's gut. Johnny continues the onslaught with forearm strikes to Cortez, backing the challenger into the corner. As he does so, Maddix sets up the ladder in the centre of the ring. Johnny is oblivious to Maddix's action, adding some kicks into his onslaught before grabbing Cortez, beiling him out of the corner. Cortez rolls through and lands by the ladder, as Johnny charges, into a boot from the gut, doubling him over...

 

 

 

...AS MADDIX JUMPS OFF THE MIDDLE OF THE LADDER WITH A MUSHROOM STOMP SQUAAAAARE BETWEEN THE SHOULDER BLADES!!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"FLYING Mushroom Stomp!?!"

 

"Well, that's Dangerous taken care of."

 

Maddix ends up on his knees, blood trickling down his face as he slumps backwards a little. With a helping hand, Cortez drags his partner up to his feet, pointing to the belts and motioning for him to go up. Which Maddix wearily begins to do. Cortez quickly lands a boot to the jaws of Griffon and then Manson, before scaling the opposite side of the ladder from Maddix.

 

"Martial Law, going up for the belts together!" cries Pete. "And Cortez is closing in here. Maddix is hurting though."

 

Passing his bleeding partner, Cortez scales the rungs with the belts in his sights, reaching the middle of the ladder with little trouble. The belts are within sight now as Cortez begins to climb again...

 

 

 

...but suddenly, Cortez spots, Manson getting to his feet. Erring on the side of caution, The Urban Legend tells Maddix to keep going and quickly de-scaled the rungs and leaps to the canvas, grabbing Manson. The two men jostle for a moment, before Manson hits a knee to the gut. Cortez doubles over, as Manson goes for the ladder...

 

 

...Cortez grabs a waistlock though, flinging Manson into the corner. Hitting the buckles sternum first, Manson staggers out aimlessly, turning in search of Cortez. But Cortez is hitting the ropes, charging at Manson...

 

 

"HOLLLOOOWWW POOOIINNTT!!!"

 

...THAT SENDS MANSON REELING RIGHT...

 

 

 

...INTO THE LADDER, WHICH TIPS...

 

 

 

 

 

...AND MADDIX SLAMS FACE-FIRST INTO THE CANVAS!!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!"

 

"HA!" King chuckles, reveling in Maddix's misfortune. "That's teamwork for ya, Pete."

 

"That was a mistake. And it could prove costly."

 

Cortez sighs as he bends over to check on Maddix, not knowing whever to tend to him more or to go for the belts himself. But he gets chance to do neither, as suddenly, a figure flies in from the right and heads straight towards him. The figure of Wildchild of course, hooking Cortez's head off of a springboard and twisting him into the canvas with the Presumed Guilty DDT!!

 

"YAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Where did he come from!?!" King howls in surprise.

 

"I don't know. All I know is, the momentum of this match is like some sort of pendulum, swinging back and forth in it's pendulum like way."

 

Pulling himself to his feet, Wildchild clutches at his back, which still has the imprints of ladder rungs from the back suplex he took early in the match. As he's tending to his back though, Arch Griffon is up, grabbing Wildchild by his dreadlocked hair. Wildchild swings back an elbow, connecting right to the heart of Griffon. With a gasp for breath, Griffon tries to grab him again, but the slippery Tropical Tumbler evades his grasp and kicks Griffon in the spine. Wildchild then hits the ropes, looking for his patented leg lariat...

 

 

...but Griffon catches Wildchild in his arms...

 

 

 

...spins him out...

 

 

 

 

...AND PLANTS HIM WITH AN HELLACIOUS POWERBOMB!!!

 

"Powerbomb-uh!!"

 

"Cortez down, Maddix down, Manson down and now, Wildchild down. And Griffon's climbing the ladder here!"

 

Griffon can get little more than one foot on the lowest rung before suddenly, Johnny Dangerous limps over. The bigman grabs him before Johnny can do anything though, whipping The Barracuda into the turnbuckles...and catching him staggering out with a big time clothesline. Johnny instantly grabs at his jaw, as Griffon turns back around. But instead of going for the belts, it seems Griffon has something more sinister in mind, as he grabs a steel chair. Setting it up by the corner, Griffon sets up another chair next to it, before grabbing Dangerous...

 

"Oh no, this doesn't look good..."

 

...and pulling him into a standing headscissors!

 

"Not good at all!"

 

Giving the signal, seemingly, for the powerbomb, Griffon locks his arms around Johnny...

 

 

*CRAAACK!*

 

 

...ONLY TO GET A LADDER DROPPED ACROSS HIS SPINE BY MADDIX!!

 

 

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Still dazed, Maddix crouches over, shaking loose some cobwebs before stepping over the chairs. Maddix grabs Griffon's head and THRUSTS it down into the chairs, before pulling Griffon around the other side of the chairs and hopping to the middle rope.

 

 

"YOU WANNA SEE A CRASH LANDON, HUH!?!"

 

"YAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"A Crash Landon...onto the chairs?" King exasperates. "This kid is stupider than I thought...he'll break his back!"

 

The fans know just about enough English to cheer or applaud Maddix's cry. Maddix smiles, wiping away some blood before launching off the middle rope, swinging around and...

 

 

...getting a forearm lashed across the kidneys from Johnny Dangerous! The move stops dead as Maddix groans in pain. But he doesn't release Griffon, still hanging off the 300 pounder's back. Dangerous peppers him with some more forearms, but still Maddix holds on...so The Barracuda reaches over the chairs, snaring Maddix's head. And as everyone in the crowd fears the worst, Dangerous falls back, plucking Maddix off of Griffon's body...

 

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

...AND DRIVING HIM INTO AND THROUGH THE OPEN CHAIRS WITH A NECKBREAKER!!!

 

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"NECKBREAKER!! MY GOD, MADDIX GOT SPIKED THROUGH THOSE CHAIRS!!"

 

"We knew there'd be casualties, Pete. And I think we got our first one."

 

"Is that all you can say? You can sit here and SMILE at that?"

 

"What can I say? The kid bugs me, so he deserved it."

 

As Dangerous pulls himself up, he quickly charges Griffon and takes him to the floor with a spear. The two start throwing forearms, brawling around ringside and past weaponry. As meanwhile, in the ring, Cortez, Manson and Wildchild are all in a race to get to their feet. The crowd clap away, not routing on anyone in particular, but rather routing on the match itself. Johnny and Griffon continue brawling on the floor, as Manson is first to recover, grabbing the fallen ladder and slowly setting it up underneath the belts. Manson takes a while to position it though, allowing Wildchild to pull himself up on the other side of the ladder...and begin his climb...as Manson does the same.

 

"We've got Manson and Wildchild in a race for the gold here!" Pete points out, as Griffon is dumped over the guardrail by Johnny.

 

"And it looks like they're going about the same speed he...HEY, wait a minute!"

 

King's cry comes as suddenly, Megan Skye is sliding in a SECOND ladder, for Todd Cortez. As Manson and Wildchild continue climbing, Cortez hurriedly sets up the second ladder beside them and begins to climb up beside Wildchild!

 

"It's a three way chase for the belts! And Wildchild is almost there..."

 

But just as Pete calls it, Cortez clubs Wildchild in the ribs. Wildchild stops as Cortez scales another rung, one below Wildchild, as he clubs him again. Wildchild smacks Cortez in the jaw though, before quickly reaching over and SLAMMING Manson's head into the top of the ladder, causing him to fall down one rung.

 

 

All three men are three rungs away now, as Wildchild grabs Manson and again slams him into the ladder top. That leaves Manson dazed, as Wildchild now turns to Cortez...AND GETS GOOZLED! The crowd gasp, perhaps knowing what's coming, perhaps just knowing that something is coming, as Cortez places a foot on Wildchild's ladder. Wildchild hits a back elbow. But Cortez punches him in the already injured back, before re-applying the goozle and taking Wildchild

 

 

A

L

L

 

T

H

E

 

W

A

Y

 

 

 

*WHAAAM!*

 

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

DOOOOWWN, SPINE FIRST, WITH THE URBAN ASSAULT!!!!!!!

 

"OH MY GOD!"

 

In sitting out with the chokeslam, Cortez ends up jarring his spine on landing, which leaves both he and Wildchild laid out on the canvas. Leaving just Manson, high above the arena floor, with the belts just a few inches away, just stars still hovering in his vision.

 

"That was worthy of a Holy YouKnowWhat chant right there, King!"

 

"Yeah, but Japanese people speak...you know, Japanese. Idiot."

 

"Well, what's the Japanese for Holy Shit then?"

 

"Uhm...Holey Sheet? How should I know!?!"

 

"Well...OH, WAIT A MINUTE...JOHNNY DANGEROUS HAS GOT A TABLE!!"

 

"Martial Law brought in the ladder, Arch and Manson brought in the chairs, so it's only fair that Wild and Dangerous get the tables!"

 

The crowd pop as FINALLY, a little wood has been introduced into the match. Johnny sets up the table on the Budoken Hall floor...but suddenly, notices Manson still perched on the ladder. And in a panic, Johnny scrambles into the ring...

 

 

 

...just as Manson begins to reach up...

 

 

 

...BUT DANGEROUS PUSHES THE LADDER FROM UNDER HIM AND MANSON CRASHES TO THE CANVAS!!

 

"And Manson takes a second, BIG tumble off the ladder to the mat tonight!"

 

"This has been one crazy mess here, Pete. But it's kinda entertaining, in a morbid, train wreck sort of way."

 

With The Raging Bull groaning in pain, Dangerous quickly grabs handfuls of hair and lifts Manson to his feet. Dumping Manson out of the ring, by the table, Johnny then goes to follow...but a right hand from Arch Griffon stops him! Johnny falls back into the ring, as Arch follows and grabs Johnny by the head, lifting him off his head with a European uppercut! Up staggers Dangerous, as Griffon meets him, whipping him into the corner...and following in with a clothesline. The Secret Agent staggers out of the corner now, as Griffon grabs him into a standing headscissors...and points to the table on the floor!!

 

"Oh...oh no, he's not going to..."

 

"Yes he is! He's gonna Bloodlust Powerbomb him, right through the table!"

 

And King is dead on, as Griffon heaves up Dangerous and backs up to the centre of the ring, before getting a head of steam...

 

 

 

...but Johnny slips out the back. Griffon comes to a halt as soon as he possibly can, turning on his heels...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

...and EATING a Johnny Kick!!

 

"Dangerous dodged a bullet there. And now, he's going after Manson again!"

 

Reaching the arena floor, Dangerous stops...noticing one of the tables that SWF officials had so kindly supplied and left by the guardrail. Johnny grabs it and drags it over to the apron, sliding the table into the ring. Johnny then looks at the table he's already set up...before looking up at the Tag Title belts...and throwing Manson back into the ring.

 

"I don't get that move."

 

"Well, I guess Johnny thinks if he's closer to the belts, it'll be quicked to retrieve them. Which is true. But he seems determined to put Manson through some lumber either way."

 

Across the ring, Todd Cortez is the only man moving, but he is in serious pain. Wildchild is still laid underneath the bottom rope, referee Nick Soapdish over checking to see if he's in need of medical assistance. And Maddix. Well...Maddix is still laid in between the mangled chairs, holding his mangled neck.

 

 

So Johnny grabs the table and quickly sets it in the centre of the ring. He pushes the two fallen ladders aside just for good measure, before dumping Manson by the table. Manson pulls himself using the table, but Johnny SMASHES him across the bridge of the nose with a palmstrike...before stepping to the side, setting for the MI Slam...

 

 

...only for Arch Griffon to pull him off of Manson. Johnny look surprised, to say the least, to see Griffon up. And his surprise allows Griffon to boot Johnny in the gut and send him to the ropes. Griffon ducks his head, but Johnny gets a boot up and hits the ropes of his own accord. But this time, Griffon catches him in his arms, falling back...

 

 

 

...AND MANSON CATCHES JOHNNY ON THE WAY DOWN...

 

 

 

*KE-RACK!*

 

...WITH THE 3-D, THROUGH THE TABLE!!

 

 

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

 

"3-D! 3-D! Some elevated Consquences for Johnny Dangerous, if you will..."

 

"And we have our first table casualty of the night." deadpans King. "I don't think these Japanese fans have ever seen anything like this in their lives, Pete."

 

"Probably not. Hell, we told them they'd be in for a great night of Puroresu when he advertised the show..."

 

"...BWWWWWAAAHHHAAAAHHHHAAA!! I'd be surprised if any of these six could SPELL that, let alone participate in it!"

 

With Johnny lying in the table wreckage, Griffon and Manson look at each other with a wry smile...before grabbing a ladder each and making their way up towards the promised land of Tag Titles gold!

 

Manson is quickest, even with his glazed over look in his eyes...

 

 

Cortez is up though.

 

...Manson reaches the middle of the ladder, Arch a few second behind him on the other side...

 

 

Cortez limps over.

 

...Griffon keeps on going...

 

 

...but his partner has come to an abrupt halt, as Todd Cortez is clutching onto his ankle desperatly. Manson tries to kick off The Urban Legend, but Cortez is determined to say the least and eventually pulls Manson off the ladder. Manson lands on his feet and instantly does a 360, coming at Todd with a Rolling Elbow...but Cortez ducks...only for Manson to duck the Snap Enziguri...

 

 

...as Griffon continues to slowly advance towards the belts...

 

 

While Manson grabs Cortez's arms, looking for a Tiger Suplex. Cortez tries to shake free, but can't, instead barging backwards...

 

 

 

"UH OHHHH..."

 

 

...SENDING GRIFFON'S LADDER AND GRIFFON FLYING, GRIFFON LANDING CROTCHED ON THE TOP ROPE!!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Manson releases Cortez as he goes to check on Griffon, who falls off the top rope and out to the arena floor. Which proves a mistake, as Cortez pounces, locking his arms around Manson's waist...

 

"BACKDROP DRIVAAA..."

 

...but Manson elbows his way out, hitting the ropes in front of him and catching Cortez between the eyes with a running high knee!! Cortez remains laid out as Manson gets to his feet, going back up the ladder!

 

 

Manson scales the first two rungs, before shaking out some cobwebs...

 

 

Three rungs...

 

 

And four...

 

 

Five...

 

 

...but suddenly, two hands grab him around the back of the head, to cheers from the crowd!

 

"What the..."

 

"MADDIX!?!"

 

King is stunned, as Landon Maddix finds the strength to pull Manson off the ladder...AND INTO A SO-DAK MOMENT!!!!

 

"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"How did he get the energy?"

 

"HOW THE HELL IS HE STILL WALKING!?!"

 

 

Everyone is out now and the Japanese fans are rampant, applauding the efforts of all six men with gusto. The only person 'in' the match still standing is Megan Skye, who's fingernails are probably chewed right down to the bone as she slams her hands on the canvas, begging Todd or Landon to get up.

 

 

But it's Wildchild who is up, to his knees, crawling over to Maddix, who is also wearily up to his knees. Despite the blood loss, injured neck and injured back between them, Maddix and Wildchild find some Fighting Spirit (~!) and starts to exchange right hands on their knees. Wildchild! Maddix! Wildchild! Maddix! Both men fight to their feet while exchange the strikes...but Maddix suddenly drops back to one knee...AND LOWBLOWS WILDCHILD!! Wildchild drops to one knee as well, as Maddix grabs Wildchild, whipping him to the ropes...

 

 

...NO, Wildchild baseball slides out of the whip, catching Griffon in the chest with his feet and causing him to slump back onto the table. Wildchild scrambles up meanwhile, but Maddix is waiting, hitting a forearm strike that seemingly KOs The Tropical Tumbler. La Cucaracha stumbles through Wildchild and suddenly spots Griffon...and a smile emerges on Maddix's face, as he begins to scale the turnbuckles.

 

"Where's he go...you don't think..."

 

"I do. Maddix can never resist a risk, you know that. No matter how stupid and pointless the risk!"

 

Maddix reaches the top rope and stops to clutch his neck, gritting his teeth as he steadies himself up top. Griffon is still out on the table, as Maddix slowly stands as straight as his balance will allow him...

 

 

 

...before coming off the top...

 

 

 

*KE-RACK!*

 

"RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!

 

...WITH A BACK SENTON, FROM THE TOP, TO THE FLOOR, THROUGH GRIFFON AND THE DAMN TABLE!!!!

 

 

"GOD DAMNIT!" gasps King.

 

"SENT FROM ABOVE!! MADDIX RISKED IT ALL! AND HE GOT IT ALL!"

 

But what Maddix has succeeded in doing is giving Wildchild time to recover. Wildchild grabs the rungs of the ladder and uses them to pull up to his knees, before pulling himself on up to his feet. On the other side of the ring meanwhile, Todd Cortez is positioning ladder number 2 besides Wildchild. And suddenly, the race is on...Cortez on one ladder, Wildchild on the other...

 

 

 

...and Johnny Dangerous suddenly climbing Wildchild's ladder, much to The Urban Legend's shock...

 

 

...as Wildchild keeps on crawling up the rungs...

 

...while Johnny and Cortez reach the middle of their ladders and start to exchange strikes. Opposite them, Wildchild's aching back is giving him a lot of problems. So much so that he stops three rungs up to hold his injured body area...

 

 

 

...as MANSON suddenly starts to climb the up the othe ladder!!

 

"YYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"It's another race to the top!!" cheers Pete. "Cortez, Manson and both Tag Team Champions. And all four men are seriously hurting here...this is a gutcheck moment right now!"

 

Manson manages to reach up and jab Wildchild in the ribs to further stop the Ladder Match veteran from doing what he does best and climbing the ladder. Across the other side, Johnny and Cortez are still wearily exchange shots. As meanwhile, Landon Maddix is being helped into the ring by Megan...

 

 

...as suddenly, Dangerous misses Cortez and gets hooked in a front facelock! Johnny tries to fight free, but Cortez still has him, falling off the ladder...

 

 

 

...WITH A DDT!!

 

"RRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"There's goes Johnny!!"

 

Cortez hits hard and grimaces, but pulls himself to his knees defiantly and starts to re-climb the ladder. Luckily for him, Wildchild and Manson are still pre-occupied, at least for the moment. Manson nails a forearm on Wildchild though and suddenly advances a step, reaching up...

 

 

 

...UP...

 

 

...HIS FINGERTIPS BRUSH THE GOLD...

 

 

...BUT CORTEZ CATCHES HIM WITH A FOREARM!!

 

"Manson almost had it there! He was so close there!"

 

"But close doesn't mean a thing when you're that high in the air, with Todd Cortez clubbing the crap out of you."

 

Cortez slams another forearm into Manson's chest, before reaching up himself...

 

 

...but Manson clubs him back...

 

 

 

...as meanwhile, Maddix is scaling the other ladder...

 

...Manson and Cortez exchange rights, as Maddix has to pretty much drag himself up the ladder rungs next to them. As he does though, Wildchild is once again doing the same...as suddenly, Cortez nails a right hand to the gut of Manson. Again and again, doubling Manson over. Cortez climbs up another rung and looks to the crowd, before giving 'the signal'.

 

"Dear lord, no!" cries King, with rare emotion.

 

"HE'S CALLING FOR A RIOT ACT PLUS OFF THE LADDER!!"

 

 

But Manson puts a stop to it, nailing Cortez with a right hand.

 

 

"Well, thank God for that."

 

"That was too crazy an idea, even for this crazy spotfest."

 

Cortez is now doubled over, as the battle on the other ladder is for the belt, both Maddix and Wildchild reaching up and clipping the belts with their fingertips...

 

 

...Wildchild grasping and snatching...

 

 

...at thin air...

 

 

 

...just as Maddix shoves both hands into Wildchild's chest, catching Wildchild and causing him to BACKFLIP all the way down off the ladder...

 

 

 

...AND FALL CHEST FIRST TO THE CANVAS, ALL THE WAY FROM THE NEAR-TOP OF THE LADDER!!!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

"WILDCHILD DOWN!"

 

"The Tag Champions have been destroyed, Pete!" cries King. "Johnny got dropped on his head...Wildchild flipped onto his god-damn head...and we're pretty much guaranteed new Tag Champions here!"

 

Maddix peers over at where Wildchild is literally rolling around in agony 10 or so feet below him, which allows Manson to reach over and smack Maddix in the breadbasket with a punch...

 

 

...before climbing one more step...

 

 

 

...AND REACHING...

 

 

"MANSON'S GOT I..."

 

...NO! Maddix reaches over and in desperation, punches Manson right between the legs!! A low moan escapes Manson as he clutches his testicles and doubles over, right by Cortez who is also looking dazed. Maddix meanwhile looks to reach up, but sees the title belts swinging out of his grasp. His chance is gone now, as Manson is trying to set himself again, trying to reach up again...

 

 

 

...just as Maddix places a hand on the ladder beside him.

 

 

"Woah woah woah, wait..."

 

"No, he wouldn't..."

 

Stopping, Maddix seems in two minds. But Manson has steadied himself by now and it's now or never...

 

 

 

...so Maddix pushes the ladder...

 

 

 

...SENDING MANSON AND CORTEZ FLYING...

 

 

 

 

"OOOOOOHHHHH!"

 

...MANSON LANDS THROAT-FIRST ACROSS THE TOP ROPE...

 

 

 

"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

...WHILE CORTEZ SAILS CLEAR OVER THE TOP ROPE AND SPLATTERS OFF THE ARENA FLOOR!!!!

 

 

"I don't believe it!"

 

"CORTEZ AND MANSON HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT! AND NOW, MADDIX HAS THE BELTS IN HIS SIGHTS AND NO-ONE TO STOP HIM!"

 

"I don't believe it Pete...Maddix just pushed his own partner a good 15 feet..."

 

"Maddix did what he had to do! And now, the belt is there for the taking..."

 

 

But Maddix doesn't take it, as he's too busy staring down at Todd Cortez. Even Maddix himself looks shocked at being responsible for Cortez's plunge...

 

 

...Megan is over, checking on Cortez with worry clear in her eyes...

 

 

 

...while in the ring, Dangerous is coming around...

 

...and Griffon is beginning to sloooowly roll into the ring...

 

 

 

...but Maddix is still staring down, instead of up...

 

 

"LANDON...GET THE BELTS, LANDON!"

 

"Megan's right...GET THE BELTS KID!" Pete adds, as Megan screams at Maddix to grab the gold, finally breaking him out his trance...

 

 

 

...as he reaches up...

 

 

 

 

...DANGEROUS GRABS THE LADDER...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...BUT IT'S TOO LATE!!!!!

 

"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

*DING DING DING~!*

 

 

"HE GOT'EM!!! HE GOT'EM!!! MADDIX GOT THE BELTS!!"

 

"Damn it!"

 

"MADDIX GRABBED THE BELTS!! MARTIAL LAW...ARE THE NEW...TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!!!"

 

Pulling the belts from their hanging perch, Maddix slumps over the ladder with a belt in each hand as "Save Yourself" hits, compounding the worst fears of Johnny Dangerous and Arch Griffon, who both stop their last, desperate crawls and slump to the mat in despair. Soapdish meanwhile confirms the result, raising an arm, as Maddix slowly begin to ease down the ladder.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners of this contest...AND...NNEEEEEEEWWWWW... ESS DUBYA EFF WOOORRLLDD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS... MMMAAAARRTTIIIAAAALLL LLLAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW!!!"

 

"YYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Maddix's feet hit the firm, safe mat and immediatly give way on him. But the belts are still firmly in his grasp, which is all that matter to Maddix right now.

 

"Maddix has brought the belts home and King, we FINALLY have new Tag Team Champions. Wild and Dangerous' historic reign has ended...and it took one HELL of a battle to end it."

 

"I dunno what to say, Pete. Martial Law won, but they sure don't look like winners."

 

"After these six men used their bodies like demolition derby vehicles, it came down to a final, desperate race for the gold. And in the end, Landon Maddix sacrificed his own partner in order to get rid of Manson, to get the belts and to get...the victory here, tonight!"

 

Rolling out of the ring, Maddix crawls on his knees and wipes some blood from his forehead, reaching Todd Cortez and dropping a Tag Title belt over his lifeless body. Cortez is still hurt and seemingly knocked loopy. But even in his state of mind, he knows what a championship belt feels like and just about manages a smile. Megan meanwhile calls over referee Soapdish and together, they help Cortez up...as more referee pile out from the back to check on the other four men in the match. Maddix tries to help carry Cortez out, but his neck won't allow it, meaning Soapdish has to do the honours...

 

 

...as all around the arena, the Japanese fans show their respect with their applause once more.

 

"Well, we're going to have to take a break while we clear this carnage up. So go regain your breath, get another cold one and be back here, because you know what King..."

 

"What?"

 

"...that was only part one. We've still got Ejiro Fasaki trying to become two-time World Heavyweight Champion against Toxxic, to come, NEXT!"

 

"Well, at least that shouldn't be such a spotfest...man, I need a drink."

Edited May 20, 2005 by Justice

[Ace309 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for ONE FALL with no time limit for the Smarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Championship of the WOOOOOORLD!”

 

Standing next to a guy in a marching band leader outfit and some other guy that looks like M. Bison, Funyon none the less calls out his information in English as the other gentlemen translate for the fan base at the Budokan. A hush falls over the gathered arena as they settle in for what may be a classic in the making as explosions start to rip through the sky…

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!

 

Walking through the crowd comes the challenger for this evening, Ejiro Fasaki with the noticeable absence of his sister at his side. Not smiling, not slapping hands with the Japanese crowd, and not even showing a sign of the rage that must be bubbling just under the surface Ejiro simply walks to the ring and up the steps. Dividing the ropes and heading into the ring, Fasaki drops his robe to the canvas and simply stares down the aisle way with his hands on his knees. It is clear that Ejiro is not here to interact with anyone other than his opponent for this evening and that interaction will be far from pleasant. But even as Ejiro just stands there waiting for his opponent, the crowd still showers him with support for the vengeance he plans to enact.

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

The Longdogger speaks, “You know something King, if I was Toxxic right now I would be even more worried than if Ejiro just came storming into the ring ready to smash everything that moved. This is the look of someone ready to perform an autopsy.”

 

The Suicide King, “I’m not worried and neither should Toxxic. You know that Ejiro under whatever façade he has erected for this canvas is going to crack. And when that happens, he is going to get sloppy and that is when Toxxic will crush his body just like he did his spirit.”

 

”PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG”

 

*BAM-BAM-BAM-bap-BOOOM!!*

 

This second set of explosions bust into Japan as the premiere wrestler in the SWF makes his way through the fire. Enjoying the boos that even the hardcore Japanese fans are throwing his way, Toxxic tosses the fans the British two finger salute as he waves the World Title about with his other arm. Stopping at the arena floor just outside of the ring, Toxxic lays the World Championship down across the floor and pulls his soccer jersey up and over his head. Tossing the shirt across the ring and against a guardrail, Toxxic reclaims the ten pounds of gold and slides into the ring. Immediately pulling the title belt up like a weapon, The Straight-Edge Sensation appears surprised that he doesn’t have 223 pounds of angry Asian throwing elbows in his face. Shrugging at the lack of attack, Toxxic climbs up to the middle rope and lifts his World Title up in the air as the crowd continues to shout things at him that the British grappler simply doesn’t understand nor care to.

 

“Toxxic looks strong and he looks ready!” calls out The Suicide King with the sound of joy in his heart.

 

“But is he ready?” replies LDP, “This will be the first action Toxxic will have had in the weeks since Battleground where he defeated Mak Francis by submission with the ¾ nelson. Because if he is even a small percentage off his game tonight, Ejiro will carve him up into tiny little pieces of humanity.”

 

Passing the World Title over to Tiger Kivell, Toxxic watches the gold as it is taken from him and lifted to all four sides of the ring as Funyon completes his announcing duties. “Introducing in the ring to my left. He is the number three contender to the World Heavyweight Championship and is a former SWF US Champion, a two time World Tag Team Champion, and WORLD Heavyweight Champion. Hailing from Sarasota, Florida and weighing in tonight at 223 pounds, he is the RULE EEEEEEJIROOOOO FASAKEEEEEE!”

 

Ejiro almost robotically puts a hand into the air as the crowd continues to play up their joy at the thought of having a front row seat for a maiming. But Ejiro has no emotion on his face in the least as he looks across the ring at his opponent who doesn’t really seem to know what to do in the face of such mind numbing cold.

 

“And his opponent is the current reigning and THREE TIME Smarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight CHAMPION OF THE WORRRRRRRLD. Weighing in tonight at 218 pounds and hailing from Birmingham in the United Kingdom, he is the leader of Revolution ZEEEEEERO … he is the STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION … he is TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXIC!”

 

Slapping his shoulder Toxxic motions for Ejiro to come at him as Fasaki simply straightens up at the prospect of the end of his waiting for the moment. The moment where all the pain he can cause will be both legal and have the extra added bonus of taking an important part of Toxxic’s life away in retaliation. Not even blinking, Ejiro simply cracks his knuckles back and forth knowing that his moment is just about at hand.

 

DING! DING!

 

It’s here.

 

The bell rings and Ejiro still does nothing but stare into the face of the man who took his sister away from him a week ago. Shaking his head at his challenger Toxxic starts to lay in the bad mouth trying to get his opponent off his game with a little British mind game. Yammering in his thick accent, Toxxic tells Ejiro just about everything he can think off that does not include a feisty little Asian broad as he pokes his opponent in the chest. This proves to not be the greatest idea as Ejiro lashes out and grabs Toxxic by the index finger…

 

And bends it backward!

 

“JESUS CHRIST!” shouts the Suicide King as Toxxic is driven to his knees in agony as he clutches at his hand. “Ejiro just broke his finger in the opening seconds of this match!”

 

Grabbing Toxxic by the hand, Ejiro places the limb onto the canvas and drives a harsh and measured knee right on the knuckle of the World Champion as Toxxic continues to writhe in pain. Trying to manually readjust the joints in his fingers, Toxxic rolls into a fetal position as Ejiro completely ignores any warnings that Kivell had for his actions. Moving in on his opponent Fasaki plucks the groaning Straight-Edge Sensation off the canvas and immediately heaves the smaller wrestler right over the top rope and to the arena floor! Landing on his feet for a moment, Toxxic stumbles backward before falling backward to the concrete in a pile as Ejiro methodically heads to the outside. Collecting The World Champion off the floor, Fasaki drags his opponent over to the announce table and SLAMS his hand down across the wooden surface!

 

“This is what Ejiro promised,” says Longdogger Pete as he hammers Toxxic across the back of the head with an elbow that sends the Brit across the table for a moment before he is scrambled to the floor. “This is what Ejiro swore. He is not out here to just knock Toxxic around a bit. He is here to systematically tear the World Champion asunder!”

 

Placing Toxxic’s hand where he wants it, Ejiro steps down on his wrist to hold the hand in position as he grabs the table by the side. Hauling the table into the air, Ejiro slams the leg of the table down right in the middle of Toxxic’s outstretched hand! Immediately pulling the hand away, Toxxic rolls up to his feet as Ejiro continues to stalk him about the ring like some sort of predatory animal. Sliding into the ring, Toxxic tries to create some distance as Ejiro follows him into the ring. But as his head is just in between the ropes, Toxxic is there to kick his opponent in the side of the head. Stunning Ejiro with the blows, The Straight-Edge Sensation takes a moment to grab at his index finger and pull it as straight as he can in order to work out the pain in the digit. Shaking out the wrist, Toxxic goes back on Ejiro and keeps kicking at his head. Dropping down on Ejiro, Toxxic links his arms around Fasaki’s head in a front facelock in order to keep him down.

 

“And this is what Toxxic has to do,” calls out LDP, “he has to keep Ejiro down and wear him down. The state Ejiro is in, I don’t think Toxic wants to get in a fight with him. So you got to take him down and milk the rage away as you wear him down.”

 

Pushing up into Toxxic, Ejiro soon finds himself back on his feet as Toxxic tries to keep his opponent under wraps. But as soon as he is up that high, Fasaki grabs Toxxic by the hand and pries the injured hand away before quickly turning his opponent over with a wristlock that sends the World Champion over the top to the canvas! Collecting Toxxic by the wrist, Ejiro hammers his opponent back down to the mat with a series of forearms to the elbow. Then placing his hand flat against the canvas, Ejiro steps on Toxxic’s bicep with one foot while CRUSHING the hand with a number of stomps with the other leg. Again and again the foot comes crashing down on Toxxic as the World Champion shudders under the pain as his right hand continues to be crushed under the cold anger of his opponent. Leaving a twitchy Toxxic on the canvas as the World Champion once again pulls his hand under his body in order to protect it, Ejiro mounts his opponent from behind and pulls him up into a camel clutch. Having Toxxic’s arms now secured over his knees, Ejiro reaches into the side of his opponent’s mouth and starts to rip at his cheeks trying to rip them asunder!

 

“He’s trying to fish hook him!” calls out The Suicide King, “Ejiro Fasaki is trying to rip Toxxic’s face apart! The referee needs to get in there right now!”

 

Physically interjecting himself, The referee grabs Ejiro and hauls him back off of Toxxic as the World Champion tries to make sure his mouth is still the same size it was when the match started. Listening to the referee only because he threatens disqualification if Ejiro tries that stunt again, Rule steps past the referee in order to kick his adversary right in the back of the head. Grabbing Toxxic by the back of his spiked hair, Ejiro jams his opponent into the top turnbuckle with authority. Turning Toxxic towards him, Fasaki slams an elbow into the side of his face with a measured precision as Toxxic’s head snaps in response. Tossing Toxxic across the ring with an Irish Whip, Ejiro comes charging across the ring only to be taken into the turnbuckles with a drop toehold!

 

“What a brilliant counter by our World Champion,” calls out The Suicide King. “As Toxxic absorbs all this underhanded nonsense, he is plotting and scheming his way around in order to get the advantage. He’s a thinking man’s champion.”

 

Proving that to be the case, Toxxic forgoes the closed fists as he jams Ejiro across the bow with a European uppercut that sends Fasaki down to the canvas once again. Snapping a soccer style kick into the back of his opponent’s head, Toxxic continues to batter away with the first even momentary advantage in the contest. Grabbing Ejiro up in the front facelock once again, Toxxic does not give his opponent a chance to counter out this time as he turns him over before dropping to the canvas with a reverse neckbreaker. Snatching at the back of his head, Fasaki rolls onto his stomach as Toxxic moves his head from one side to the other while continuing to flex his hand after Ejiro’s rather viscous assault. Using his left hand to collect Ejiro, Toxxic pushes his opponent into a corner and knocks him up under the jaw once again with a European uppercut. Then grabbing Ejiro by the hair by the left hand, Toxxic leans forward and jams him with a head BUTT.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not the best plan.

 

Immediately grabbing Toxxic by the hair, Ejiro responds with an elbow to the side of the jaw that knocks Toxxic flat back to the canvas. Getting back up, Toxxic is immediately sent right back to the mat with another elbow to the crown of the head. Not even getting a chance to get back to his feet, Toxxic find Ejiro on top of his as Ejiro starts to hammer away with fist after fist as the referee tries to get his to break. Knowing that he can’t get disqualified and have his true revenge on the man that head butted his sister last week, Ejiro breaks off Toxic as the crowd calls out once again…

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

Grabbing Toxxic up and off the canvas, Ejiro hooks Toxxic and puts his head down between his legs before picking Toxxic skyward into the air and DRIVING HIS HEAD straight down into the canvas with a piledriver! Bouncing into the air with the impact, Toxxic flops to the mat like a mackerel as Ejiro looks out to the crowd with a grimace as they cheer his actions towards maiming the World Champion. Grabbing at his neck, Toxxic manages to roll towards the ropes as Ejiro slowly moves in on his opponent. Grabbing Toxxic back up, Ejiro once again puts Toxxic’s head down and looks to put his head into the canvas once again only to have Toxxic block by hooking his arms around one of Ejiro’s legs. Desperately holding onto the leg to keep from being spiked once again, Toxxic shudders under the pressure as Ejiro hammers down on him with forearms in order to jar the World Champion loose. But before Ejiro can get The Straight Edge Sensation loose, Toxxic stands up and sends Ejiro over the top with a backdrop!

 

“If Fasaki’s attack leaves anything to be desired,” calls out LDP, “it is that Ejiro is so focused on hurting Toxxic that he is not going for covers at all. He is just continuing to hammer away after a big move like the piledriver.”

 

“Fasaki is so wrapped up in himself that he is throwing away the World Championship in order to hurt his opponent. If you leave Toxxic that many openings and let him hang around, he will find a way to make you pay.”

 

And so Toxxic makes Fasaki pay by driving both feet into his face with basement dropkick that sends Ejiro flailing over the top with the impact. Wiping the sweat off his face while still on his knees, The World Heavyweight Champion takes a moment to collect his senses before getting back to work on Fasaki with a kick to the head. Noting that he needs to settle Fasaki down as best he can, Toxxic goes away from the high impact as he latches onto Rule’s head with a side cravat and wrenches him to one side. Pulled by the cravat, Ejiro loses one point of balance on the canvas before Toxxic moves to one side a little more in order to force Fasaki all the way to the canvas. Spreading his base in order to keep Fasaki from moving too far, Toxxic keeps his foe down on the mat. Cranking on Ejiro’s chin and keeping it ajar from its normal position, Toxxic uses his new found ring tactics to keep control of his foe as Ejiro looks for some measure of escape. Finally forcing his way up to his knees, Ejiro shucks an elbow into the chest of his adversary before The Straight-Edge Sensation forgoes the cravat in order to pop Ejiro under the chin with another European uppercut.

 

“I’m not sure I would slow things down like this if I was Toxxic,” calls out LDP. “I think keeping the pace fast might do a better job of keeping the technician Fasaki off guard.”

 

“Shows what you know,” calls out The Suicide King. “Ejiro excels at dominating cruiserweight style wrestlers. Toxxic totally needs to work his man over with holds and throws if he really wants to go over here tonight.”

 

Driven down with the uppercut, Ejiro soon finds his leg in the air before Toxxic drives a knee into the back of his calf. Following that up with another kick, Toxxic uses the purchase on the limb to pull Ejiro out from the middle of the ring. Immediately cinching up high on the knee, Toxxic turns his challenger over into a half Boston crab as the Japanese ring pundits on the outside admire the SWF Champion’s execution. Keeping the half crab high in order to keep Ejiro from pushing up and out, Toxxic still does not get the maximum leverage on the hold by not sitting down on the hold. Wrenching on the knee as best he can Toxxic continues to punish his opponent with holds as Ejiro struggles to escape. Reaching out for the ropes and using his hands and elbows in order to drag the pair towards the ropes proves no good as soon as Ejiro gets any sort of traction, Toxxic simply takes a few steps forward in order to keep Fasaki in the middle of the ring. Knowing that he needs to affect a different counter, Ejiro manages to turn a little bit into the Straight-Edge Sensation before reaching up and grabbing him by the fingers!

 

“Now this is the Ejiro I always wanted to see,” calls out The Suicide King, as Toxxic has to release the half crab in order to kick Ejiro off his hand. “He is ruthless. He is merciless. The only problem is that he is not as good as the World Champion. He is not as good as Toxxic and we are seeing that now as the champ dominates!”

 

Kicking The Rule once again (this time in the ribs) Toxxic continues to wave his fingers a bit in order to try and shake out the pain coursing through his digits. Grabbing a hold of Fasaki by the ankle, the World Champion pulls his opponent into the sky before jamming his knee back down on the canvas with all he has. Feeling the knee impact with the canvas, Ejiro rolls about the canvas for a moment as he crawls toward the ring ropes only to have Toxxic drop a knee into the small of his opponent’s back. Grabbing The Rule by the hair and pulling the man up to his feet, Toxxic turns his opponent over in his grip before falling back down to the canvas with the second reverse neckbreaker of the match up. Clutching at the back of his head as he hits the mat, Ejiro suffers from the two-pronged assault on his neck and knees.

 

“Toxxic is doing a fine job of mixing up his attack,” says LDP as Toxxic hauls Ejiro to his feet, “he is working two points of attack again and again and I have to think he is setting Ejiro up for that vaunted Regal stretch that took so much out of Mak Francis at Battleground.”

 

Holding Fasaki by the head, Toxxic once again turns his opponent over in position for another reverse neckbreaker but pauses a moment too long in position until Fasaki turns right back out of the hold and pulls Toxxic to the canvas with a Fujiwara armbar which he quickly forgoes in favor of…

 

“Cobra crossface! Cobra crossface!” calls out LDP prematurely as Ejiro struggles to hook Toxxic properly as the champion immediately both struggles to get to the ropes and stave off the hold.

 

“He didn’t get it!” reports the King of Hearts as Toxxic hooks the ropes with his free arm.

 

But that does not stop Fasaki from continuing to try and get some measure of advantage out of his counter as he clubs Toxxic in the back of the head time and again as Tiger Kivell continues to call for a break. Getting to his feet first, Ejiro grabs the top rope and kicks away time and again on his fallen adversary as Toxxic turns toward his foe on the canvas. Stomping the ever-loving snot out of the World Champion which such vigor, Ejiro actually drives Toxxic through the ropes and all the way out to the arena floor! Immediately following Toxxic out there, Fasaki grabs the ring skirting and continues to kick away at the head and chest of his opponent as the referee is forced to start the ten count towards a count out rather than force a break.

 

ONE!

 

Kick!

 

TWO!

 

Kick! Kick! Kick!

 

THREE!

 

KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK!

 

FOUR!

 

Finally breaking off from his assault on the floor, Ejiro collects the wounded mess of the World Champion and tosses him back inside the ring at the count of five.

 

“No reason to risk a count out win he has to win the title on the inside,” calls out Longdogger Pete. “But it is more about the effect that would have on Toxxic than it would about Ejiro getting to be champion.”

 

Limping a bit as he pursues a retreating Toxxic across the ring, Ejiro nonetheless is unrelenting as he stalks Toxxic into a corner. But as he gets within range, the clever World Champion catches him coming in with a swift kick to the breadbasket. Immediately turning Ejiro into the corner, Toxxic rocks his opponent once again with a European uppercut that takes Fasaki’s feet off the canvas with the naked force. Forgetting himself for a moment, Toxxic hits Ejiro with a right hand only to immediately withdraw it in pain. But not wanting to let the moment pass, Toxxic crushes Ejiro in the corner once again with a strong kick to the midsection before following that up with some of Ejiro’s own elbows to the side of the head. Cracking his challenger time and again, Toxxic finishes up with another European uppercut that leaves Ejiro virtually hanging on the turnbuckles to keep his feet.

 

“Now who’s the man SUNSHINE!” shouts the angry British grappler as Ejiro can seemingly only barely lift his head from the attack he has taken in the last moments.

 

Grabbing Ejiro by the bottom of the jaw, Toxxic lifts his face up and gives it a smack across the side of the head. Mocking Ejiro with his very movements, Toxxic savors his moments of domination, as his opponent is as helpless…

 

KRACK!

 

… As a coiled viper…

 

“Ejiro Fasaki just knee capped Toxxic! He knee capped his ass!”

 

Catching Toxxic on his feet flat on the canvas, Fasaki kicks his opponent straight in the knee seemingly hyper-extending the knee as Toxxic literally crumples to the mat in complete agony. Grabbing onto the limb as he rolls out to the floor, Toxxic shouts out in complete pain as he tries to find out if Ejiro just maimed him. Stretching the knee back and forth as best he can, Toxxic feels the limb start to swell to a minor degree as he seemingly still has some range of motion. Looking up to the ring, Toxxic gets only a view of Ejiro’s feet as he baseball slides into his jaw! Falling flat back down to the concrete, Toxxic grabs onto his face for a moment before his hands once again find their way to his knee. But his might not have much time to contemplate the seemingly numerous injuries that Ejiro has inflicted on him during this contest. Grabbing the now limping Toxxic off the canvas again, Ejiro slides him back into the ring while continuing to ignore any warnings that Kivell might have for him.

 

“Fasaki has just gone too far now,” calls out The Longdogger, “I understand trying to protect your family but… but he is trying to injure a guy in the coldest most efficient way I may have ever seen. And as much as Toxxic might deserve it for the head BUTT, this is going too damn far.”

 

“It is going to go as far as Ejiro and Toxxic want it to. You just know that Toxxic is not going to just keep letting Fasaki take these liberties on him without responding in kind. And by in kind, I mean Toxxic is going to bust his opponent open as soon as he gets the chance.”

 

But if that chance will come or not may be up in the air as Fasaki pulls Toxxic’s leg out away from his body before hopping in the air and coming down with a knee right into Toxxic’s already disabled knee. Grabbing Toxxic by the ankle as he writhes on the canvas, Ejiro pulls up on the leg as he uses his own body as a fulcrum to further disable the limb. Pulling up on the foot as high as he can, Ejiro tries to slaughter his lamb as Toxxic flails from his position on the canvas with some clumsy left handed punches to the kidneys. Forgoing his makeshift toehold, Ejiro leaves the hold in order to stomp Toxxic back across the face. Pulling Toxxic up to his limping feet, Ejiro hauls his opponent up for a body slam only to have the World Champion slide out of his grip! Landing behind Ejiro and instantly grabbing him by the jaw and shoulders, Toxxic falls to his seat!

 

 

 

WHAMM!

 

 

“UNDERKILL!”

 

Holding onto Ejiro’s feet as they flail into the air, Toxxic keeps his opponent hooked into a pinning combination as Matthew Kivell slides into position and counts…

 

ONNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

THRREANAAAAA!

 

Kicking out with both legs, Ejiro forces his way out of the pinning predicament as Toxxic immediately folds back up and over his opponent and starts to strike away at his head and throat with more punches from the left side. Not really getting the power from his off hand and not really being able to use his right, Toxxic grips Fasaki by the hair and pulls him up and off the canvas. Slapping the side of his own knee to test its viability, Toxxic deems the limb suitable for use before pulling Ejiro up to his shoulder and depositing Fasaki on the canvas with a power body slam. Leaving his opponent where he lies, Toxxic looks out to the crowd for a moment and puts both arms out to the side in his historic reenactment of the crucifixion. Although lost on most of the Taoists in the audience, the Japanese fans still know enough to boo the devil out of the Straight-Edge Sensation. Heading over to the ropes, Toxxic looks over his shoulder at his opponent one last time to get the range before heading up to the top turnbuckle with his back to the ring.

 

“This is dicey, very dicey,” emotes LDP, “Toxxic shouldn’t be trying this with the shape that knee has to be in right now… BUT HE’S TRYING ANYWAY!”

 

Steadying himself on both rope strands, Toxxic gives one last look out to the crowd before arching backward and tossing his own body into the air. CRASHING down on Fasaki with all his weight, Toxxic crushes the air out of his challenger with a not-quite-picture-perfect moonsault from the top! Rolling off his foe though with the impact the World Champion clutches at his knee trying to keep everything together long enough to get out of this match with his title intact. Crawling over his foe, Toxxic hooks the far leg as he sprays over Fasaki with his weight up and over his shoulders…

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

TWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

THRREEEEHNAAAAAAAAAHH!

 

Getting his shoulders up and off the canvas, Ejiro keeps his hopes for vengeance alive as well as his chance for victory. But the hope seems far slimmer now as the World Champion manages to hobble up to his feet with a great deal of pain etched across his face. Taking a whole lot out of his own with the moonsault, Toxxic knows that he will not be able to bring about a repeat performance until his knee recovers. Hopping on one leg, Toxxic is still able to control Fasaki as he tosses The Rule into a corner before hammering his man across the jaw with another European uppercut. Holding Fasaki’s head to one side, Toxxic buries his head into the side of Ejiro’s head.

 

And this time there is no response…

 

Cracking away with the head BUTT time and again, Toxxic manages to knock Ejiro down to the canvas with the battering. Bashing in the side of Ejiro’s face, Toxxic crushes his foe until he moves no more and slumps in the corner no longer hungry for vengeance but for the chance to have a clear thought at all. Taking Ejiro out of the corner, Toxxic tries to send his foe across the ring only to have Ejiro almost mindlessly reverse and drop his head for a backdrop.

 

KEERACK!

 

Stopping short, The Straight-Edge Sensation hooks Fasaki under the arm and takes a little hop before driving Ejiro down on his healthy knee. Cracked back up to his feet, Ejiro stumbles for the smallest moment before Toxxic takes him by the head and SPIKES him into the canvas with the DDT! Shattered by the impact of the DDT, Ejiro slumps over to one side as Toxxic sits up for a moment with a huge grin on his face. Pushing Fasaki over to one side, Toxxic hooks the leg once again as Fasaki kicks almost wildly in response…

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEENAOOOOOO!

 

Finally getting his legs together enough to kick through with his body, Ejiro is able to keep himself alive as Toxxic starts to show some visible frustration from not being able to put this match away as the crowd continues to rally behind his opponent.

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

“Notice the difference between the wrestlers,” shouts The Suicide King over the din, “The champ keeps trying for pin falls while Ejiro was centered in on causing pain and torment. Toxxic is trying to win this match.”

 

“In my mind, he’s trying to escape,” answers LDP, “he’s been cornered and he knows it. Toxxic is facing a guy focused on hurting him and I don’t know that he’s ever been in that position before.”

 

“And the only way to get out is to keep this guy down,” thinks Toxxic to himself.

 

Taking Ejiro up and off the mat again, Toxxic catches him in a double under hook and manages to force his battered fingers together. Gritting through the pain, Toxxic pulls his opponent off the canvas and turns as he releases the under hook and allows Ejiro to have his face spiked into the canvas with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

“It’s over Sunshine!”

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

“Stay down wanker!”

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“STAY THE F DOWN!”

 

THRRRRRRRRRNOOOOOOOOO!

 

“FUCKER!”

 

Simply holding Ejiro by the hair, Toxxic ignores any all pain as he hammers his adversary with his injured right hand. Feeling the agony returning to his fingers even as he hammers away, Toxxic grins through the pain as he revels in the distortions he is causing on the face of his adversary. Happily suffering, Toxxic leaves his foe quivering on the canvas, as he stands tall once again as his now throbbing hand lets him know it didn’t enjoy that exchange as much as Toxxic did.

 

“That’s it!” shouts Toxic as he shakes out the hand.

 

Grabbing Ejiro around the head with the second cravat of the night, Toxxic wrenches his opponent once for fun before pulling Ejiro ahead with the hold…

 

“He’s going for the Intoxxication!”

 

But as he kicks up and off the ropes, Toxxic cannot get the spring he needs to get the most momentum that he can. As such Ejiro is able to grab the top rope and cause Toxxic to fly up and over the top, landing on his feet behind the challenger. Immediately Ejiro spins about and…

 

KEEEERACK!

 

“SCREAMMMMING ELBOWAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Smashed by the blow, Toxxic goes down to a knee but is up shortly thereafter before Ejiro clamps down on HIS head and runs forward into the turnbuckle…

 

“EJIROOOOOOOOOOCUTION!”

 

Doing just what Toxxic was planning a moment ago, Ejiro pulls out his old finisher from the SJL as he goes over the top and crushes Toxxic under his variation of the Sliced Bread #2. Folding over his own body on impact, Toxxic ends up on his stomach as Ejiro barely has enough left in his tank to make a cover even if wanted to do so.

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

“Go for the pin Ejiro!” cheers Pete, as Ejiro barely seems to have any energy left to continue on his path towards either victory or vengeance.

 

But Ejiro does not go for the win at all as he actually rolls all the way out of the ring rather than going for any sort of cover. And once on the outside, Ejiro makes his motive for such an odd choice of strategy as he sends Funyon scrambling as he hauls a chair into his hands and heads back inside the ring.

 

“NO! NOOOO!” calls out Pete as the referee stands in the path of the vengeful Rule as he holds the ticket to both his opponent’s victory and his destruction in his hands.

 

Holding the chair aloft, Ejiro watches with a sneer as Toxxic barely manages to pull his broken shell of a body up to his knees. Bringing the chair up into the air, Ejiro looks to shatter the face of his opponent only to have it RIPPED AWAY!

 

“The referee grabbed the chair, he grabbed the chair!” calls out The Longdogger as Kivell uses the odd angle to take the chair away from the vengeful Ejiro Fasaki and risks his life in the process.

 

Holding the chair in front of him like a shield, Kivell looks as though he is bracing for the hit as Ejiro mouths off at the official. Shaking a finger at the referee Ejiro barks at him that he has no right to get in the way. Nonetheless, the referee takes great care to remove the chair from the ring and hand it to a ringside attendant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Ejiro smiles…

 

Reaching into his tights as the referee is turned away, Fasaki pulls forth THE STEEL CHAIN. Wrapping it around his fist with familiar ease Ejiro smiles as brightly as Satan himself as Toxxic finally gets all the way up to his feet…

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

AND IS LAID SIX FEET UNDER!

 

Tossing the chain over the top rope just as the referee turns back to the action. Ejiro looks down at the now bleeding Toxxic with enough ire to curl a serial killer’s toes. Toxxic does nothing but lie there and bleed as Ejiro looks down at the bloody horror he has created here tonight in Japan.

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

“This is over,” calls out The Suicide King, “Toxxic is unconscious as Ejiro Fasaki… Christ what more can he want?”

 

True Ejiro has probably broken Toxxic’s fingers.

 

True Ejiro has screwed up Toxxic’s knee.

 

True Ejiro has busted Toxxic open.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But it is still not enough…

 

Pushing Toxxic onto his back, Ejiro slaps Toxxic in the back of the head over and over again until the World Heavyweight champion barely shows that consciousness is returning to his form. And so that consciousness soon comes rushing back as his left arm is pulled behind his body and his head is slapped inside a vice…

 

 

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBRA CROSSFACE!”

 

 

Yanking back on the hold with all he has, Ejiro roars out in something resembling the human trait of triumph. He is getting everything he wants here tonight…

 

He is got the body…

 

 

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

 

 

He is got the blood…

 

 

 

“EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO! EEHEEROO!”

 

 

 

He is getting…

 

 

TAP! TAP! TAAAAAAAAAP!

 

 

… Toxxic’s soul.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Toxxic had no choice,” calls out Longdogger Pete as Ejiro releases the hold almost immediately knowing that a disqualification or reverse decision could take away his sweet, sweet vengeance. “He was nearly unconscious and probably had no idea what the hell was going on when Ejiro locked on the crossface.”

 

“Ejiro wanted everything… he wanted everything Toxxic had,” says The Suicide King. “And he took it. He took Toxxic with such precise venom I have… I have to admire it.”

 

Taking the World Title from the referee, Ejiro Fasaki holds the metal trophy in his hand as he uses the other to pick Toxxic’s head off the canvas. Virtually shoving the title belt into the now former Champion’s face, Ejiro reminds Toxxic of what he just lost. And what Fasaki just gained…

 

“The winner of this contest… AND NEWWWWWWWW Smarks Wrestling Federation CHAMPIONNNNNNNNN… EEEJIROOOOOOOOO FASAKEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

Holding the belt like it doesn’t even matter Ejiro starts out of the ring as crowd continues to shout his name in appreciation for ending the reign of one of the most hated champions in SWF history. But as Ejiro puts a leg through the ropes, he stops…

 

“NO!” calls out LDP, “It’s enough Ejiro! It’s enough!”

 

But is it? Looking back over his shoulder, Ejiro can’t bring himself to leave the ring. To the joy of the crowd, Ejiro comes back inside the squared circle and tosses the belt on the canvas. Stalking Toxxic across the ring yet again Ejiro grabs the still groggy former champion by the hair and pulls back his head… the new World Heavyweight Champion has one last thing to say.

 

“We…”

 

“Ain’t…”

 

“DONE!”

 

Tossing Toxxic’s head back down to the canvas, Ejiro picks his newly won title off the canvas and heads out of the ring as we…

 

**** FADE TO BLACK ****