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SWF Lockdown, June 22, 2005!

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

 

Funyon takes his place in the center of the ring and begins to sing.

 

I solve my problems and I see the light

We gotta plug and think, we gotta feed it right

There ain't no danger we can go too far

We start believing now that we can be who we are

 

Greece is the word

 

They think our love is just a growing pain

Why don't they understand? It's just a crying shame.

Their lips are lying, only real is real

We start to find right now we got to be what we feel

 

Greece is the word

It's got groove, it's got meaning

Greece is the time, is the place, is the motion

Greece is the way we are feeling

 

We take the pressure and we throw away

Conventionality belongs to yesterday

There is a chance that we can make it so far

We start believing now that we can be who we are

 

Greece is the word

It's got groove it's got meaning

Greece is the time, is the place, is the motion

Greece is the way we are feeling

 

This is a life of illusion

Wrapped up in trouble laced with confusion

What are we doing here?

 

We take the pressure and we throw away

Conventionality belongs to yesterday

There is a chance that we can make it so far

We start believing now that we can be who we are

 

Greece is the word (the word that you heard)

It's got groove, it's got meaning

Greece is the time, is the place is the motion

Greece is the way we are feeling

 

Greece is the word (is the word that you heard)

It's got groove it's got meaning

Greece is the time, is the place, is the motion

Greece is the way we are feeling

 

Greece is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word

Is the word.

 

The crowd applauds, breaking into a “HELLAS! HELLAS!” chant as Funyon nods, smiling. As the crowd’s patriotic furor comes to a head, the SWF Lockdown opening montage fades in.

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

 

SWF LOCKDOWN, JUNE 22nd, 2005, LIVE FROM THE PANATHINAIKO STADIUM IN ATHENS, GREECE!

(8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.)

 

Panathinaiko.jpg

 

In ancient times the Panathinaiko Stadium was used to host the athletic portion of the Panathenaic Games in honour of the Goddess Athena. It was fully rebuilt in 1895 in order to host the first modern Olympic Games. The stadium was built long before dimensions for athletics venues were standardized and its track and layout follow the ancient hairpin-like model. It is made entirely out of white marble, and can seat about 80,000 people.

 

Due to the unusual shape and size of this arena, I made a pretty picture to show how everything will be laid out.

 

Panathinaiko2.JPG

 

-=-=-=-

 

The Main Event - Six Man Tag Team Match

 

Wild and Dangerous and Lil' Buck vs. Martial Law © (Landon Maddix and Todd Cortez) and Ejiro Fasaki ©

 

--> Revolution Zero is gone! Can't we all just get along?

 

Apparently not. Landon Maddix made it very clear last week that he's feeling a bit neglected - he's a damn fine Cruiser without a Cruiserweight Title shot, a World Title Contendor without a World Title shot, and all anyone can say about his tag reign is "When are you facing Wild and Dangerous again?"

 

We know how important it is to keep our talent happy. So when Landon Maddix asks "Where's MY match with Ejiro Fasaki?" (direct quote), we give it to him on the very next show!

 

Unfortunately, none of Landon's demands included the word "please". So it's not exactly the match he was hoping for. TENSION~!

 

Tonight, Martial Law teams up with the World Heavyweight Champion to take on three men who might have a thing or two to say about Landon's outburst on Storm!

 

Rules: Standard six-man tag. You know the drill.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Toxxic vs. ???

 

--> Toxxic has stepped down from the World Title scene, disbanded Revolution Zero, and asked for a match against Danny Williams on Smarkdown, all in the name of wrestling. Maybe the stuff Spike slipped him never wore off... or maybe he's in a good mood, since we're on the European leg of our World Tour.

 

Regardless, Toxxic asked for a tune-up match to prepare for Danny, but Flesher is tight-lipped about who Toxx's opponent will be! After last week's mystery man turned out to be a genuine superstar, El Luchadore Magnifico, speculation has run rampant about who this week's QMM will be! Only one way to find out, folks!

 

Rules: Standard Singles Match

 

-=-=-=-

 

Acropolis Now - SWF Hardcore Championship Match

 

Zyon © vs. JJ Johnson vs. Mak Francis

 

--> At 13th Hour, Zyon took home his first taste of SWF Gold, in what many considered to be an upset. Now let's see if he can defend it.

 

JJ Johnson returned on Storm, taking down Insane Luchadore in the Vatican City House Rules match and earning himself a shot at the SWF Hardcore Championship.

 

And Mak? Well, he's still a bit touchy after his hard-fought loss to Danny Williams, and he's just looking to make someone hurt.

 

A little history...

 

The Acropolis - a treasure trove of temples, shrines, and other things made out of rock.

 

One of those temples is the Erechtheion.

 

At this very spot, way way back in the day, two Gods had a contest to see who would become the patron diety of Athens. Poseidon, God of the Sea, struck the rocks and a salt water spring burst forth. Athena, Goddess of Wisdom (and like eighteen other things), conjured up an Olive tree out of thin air. The citizens declared Athena the winner of this epic battle, and awarded her the city of Athens. Poseidon got some crummy little fishing town on the coast.

 

Now, a couple thousand years later, another epic showdown will take place, as we determine who the patron wrestler of Athens will be!

 

And, just for kicks, we scheduled a Senior Citizens tour group to visit the Acropolis at the time the match is scheduled.

 

Rules: The competitors will begin at the foot of the Acropolis hill. Somewhere on the Acropolis - maybe out in the open, maybe in a temple, maybe in a shrine - is hidden a small Olive tree. The object of the match is to find this tree and plant it at the Erechtheion. The tree must be IN THE GROUND before a winner is declared. No disqualifications - anything goes. And most of all - have fun! The winner not only becomes (or stays) The SWF Hardcore Champion, but he will also be named the Patron Wrestler of Athens!

 

-=-=-=-

 

Olympic Wrestling Exhibition (Non-Title)

 

"The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke © vs. Arch Griffon

 

--> Considering that Lockdown is coming from an Olympic Arena, we just couldn't pass up the chance to throw two guys with technical backgrounds in a real wrestling match. But which two?

 

Jay Hawke and Arch Griffon.

 

Bad blood between these two, let me tell you. Or better yet, read it for yourself. Needless to say, animosity still exists here, and isn't likely to go away any time soon. Griffon's probably still sore about how his match at 13th Hour ended - tonight he's got the chance to even the score.

 

Rules: The rules have been slightly simplified (translation: I couldn't make any sense of them, so I asked other people).

 

Three 3-Minute Rounds - Whoever has accumulated the most points over all three rounds wins.

 

Strikes of any kind are strictly prohibited. First offense is a five-point penalty. Second offense is a 10 point penalty. Third offense is instant disqualification.

 

Point Values

 

From the feet:

Takedown = 1 point.

Takedown from feet to back = 3 points

Suplex from feet to stomach, side, etc. = 3 points

Suplex from feet to back = 5 points

 

On the mat:

Near-fall (any back exposure) = 2 points

Suplex started off the mat (eg a German where you lift the guy from his stomach) = +1 point bonus for the lift.

 

Any questions, ask Tom. :P

 

-=-=-=-

 

Manson vs. Austin Sly

 

--> The last time these two met one on one, the ending involved a chair and Manson's head. Sly's been off the active roster for a while, but he'll be on Lockdown, and he'll be in for one hell of a fight! I hope he doesn't think he can rely on the ole' chair trick tonight - it's no holds barred!

 

Rules: HARDCORE! No DQ, no count-out, falls count anywhere!

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Rules: HARDCORE! No DQ, no count-out, falls count anywhere!

The opening ceremonies for SWF Lockdown finally die down while the anxious fans within Panathinaiko Stadium murmur amongst themselves, clearly excited for the show they’re about to witness.

 

“UNO!”

 

BOOM!

 

“DOS!”

 

BOOM!

 

“TRES!”

 

BOOM!

 

“CUATRO!”

 

BOOM!

 

The relative calm is broken by a jarring Mexican voice, which shouts the above numbers over the PA system while a burst of pyro shoots upwards from each turnbuckle in time with each shouted word! Every fan in the stadium immediately begins to cheer while Bunch of Believers’ “Mission Trip to Mexico” plays over the speakers, struggling to be heard over tens of thousands of screaming Greeks. A second later, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain, waving his Mexican flag wildly and causing the capacity crowd to grow even more raucous! Grinning broadly, Magnifico poses beneath the gigantic Smarktron, creating a terrific photo opportunity that those with the benefit of flash photography take advantage of.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen…” Funyon begins, looking as sharp as ever in his requisite tuxedo, “Please welcome EL LUCHADOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOO!”

 

Upon hearing his name, ELM begins the trek down the ridiculously long entrance ramp, his Mexican flag billowing gracefully behind him.

 

“And we get this episode of SWF Lockdown to an explosive start!” Pete cries, pouring on the hyperbole. “Magnifico, who made his triumphant return on Storm, is here! And these fans couldn’t be happier!”

 

“Well, we’ll forgive them for that.” Says King, rolling a poker chip over his fingers. “They are Greek, after all.”

 

ELM has finally competed his journey and reached the ring, whose bottom rope he rolls beneath, flag still in hand. Once inside the ring, he pops to his feet, leans his Mexican flag against a corner, and then signals for a microphone. He walks to the part of the ring closest to the announce table and is handed one, causing the fans, who want to hear what he has to say, to quickly quiet down.

 

“Hola a todos mis amigos en Athens!” Magnifico suddenly shouts, drawing a cheap pop from those who understand what he’s saying. The rest cheer to be polite.

 

“I’ve gotta tell you, it feels DAMN good to be back!” Magnifico begins, drawing another wave of cheers from the encouraging crowd.

 

“Get on with it!” cries King angrily, right before LDP smacks him upside the head.

 

“But I bet a lot of you are wondering why I’m back, and why I left in the first place.” Magnifico says, growing a bit more somber as he does so. The crowd does the same, listening intently as ELM slowly paces the ring. “As many of you know, my life is wrestling. It’s what I love to do, it’s what I’m best at, and to be frank, I’m pretty damn good at it.”

 

“But after two years in the SWF,” Magnifico continues, “I was homesick. The only thing I love more than wrestling is my family, and my homeland of Mexico. I needed to take a break and return to my home, to clear my head and spend some time with my wife and kids, who I had left behind.”

 

The fans remain quiet as ELM pauses, still pacing the ring as he does so. King dabs at his eyes with an imaginary tissue.

 

“But after a while, I began to feel empty inside.” Magnifico confesses. “It was great having the chance to be with my family every day, but I got restless. I craved competition. I desired to be inside that familiar ring, putting my body on the line week in and week out while the fans cheered me on.”

 

“I spent some time in the EMLL and the AAA as Senor Psycho,” says Magnifico, as the one guy in the crowd who gets the reference cheers, “But it just wasn’t the same. It was then I realized that there was only one federation that was going to feed my competitive spirit.”

 

The fans already begin to cheer, as they already know where he’s going with this. “The greatest federation in the world!” Magnifico cries, beaming. “The S-W-F!”

 

A massive pop rises from the crowd as ELM stops pacing and stands proudly in the middle of the ring, grinning broadly. “So, with the blessing of my family, I set out to return to the SWF. But, there was a small…nationality problem that I had to deal with. During my first run with the SWF, I was in the country illegally. It was hard enough dodging INS myself, but that was something I couldn’t put my family through. That’s why I was forced to leave them in Mexico.”

 

Magnifico pauses and digs in his pants, before producing a small laminated card. “But those days are over!” ELM proudly announces, holding the green object high above his head.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake.” King grumbles, falling back in his chair.

 

“It’s a Green Card!” Longdogger excitedly shouts, “Magnifico is finally a legal American immigrant!”

 

“I managed to get this baby through the Extraordinarily Ability clause.” Magnifico states, putting the card away. “It helped that the agent handling my case was a big SWF fan. A couple signed photographs later, me and my family became legal immigrants to the United States of America!”

 

The fans cheer proudly, glad to hear that Magnifico is here to stay. ELM pauses for a moment, grinning to himself, before continuing. “With that little roadblock taken care of, I came back to the SWF, and-“

 

Magnifico is suddenly interrupted by the booming bass of Redman's "Let's Get Dirty", which signals the entrance of the one and only Wildchild! The fans release a massive pop as the Bahama Bomber bursts out from behind the curtain. WC pauses briefly at the top of the ramp, smiling broadly, before embarking on the legendary journey down the ramp and to the ring.

 

"Thank God." King states, profoundly appreciative. "Not that this is much better, but if I had to hear Magnifico speak for one more second, I would of heaved up my stuffed grape leaves. Which were delicious, by the way."

 

"Fantastic." Pete responds, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, it looks like Wildchild, who lost to Magnifico in an incredibly close contest on Storm, has something to say to the luchadore. I can't imagine he'd bear any ill will towards him..."

 

The fans still cheering, WC approaches the ring and rolls beneath its bottom rope. He pops to his feet, walks right by Magnifico, who is watching him with keen interest, and heads to the far end of the ring, where he is handed a microphone. Wildchild walks back towards the center of the ring, looking down and measuring his words carefully as Magnifico and the crowd look on, wondering what the Bahama Bomber could have to say.

 

"Tat's all well and good," Wildchild begins, "I'm very glad t'hear tat you'll be wit us from now on."

 

WC pauses for a moment and looks right at Magnifico. “ELM, d’ya have any idea what it was like watchin’ ya compete wit’ t’best of de SWF, night in and night out? Y’were an inspiration t’me, Mags. I saw y’go up against guys three times y’size, and WIN. Y’were t’first man t’win de SWF World Title tree times, and y’did so as a cruiserweight. One of my main goals in de SWF was t’take ya on, and beatcha. But den y’left.”

 

The crowd looks on in silence as WC continues, not breaking his gaze for an instant.

 

"On Storm, I finally got m’chance, and I couldn’t beatcha. But I wouldn't feel right 'less I got another shot atcha, Mags. I'd been waitin' over two years t'face you, and I wanted t'be prepared when tat day would come."

 

Wildchild takes a step towards ELM. "I wasn't prepared t'face you on Storm. But I want t'face you one more time, properly prepared. So, whatcha say, Mags? You gon' give ol' Wildchild one more shot at you, mon?"

 

WC lowers the mike and stares into Magnifico's eyes. The luchadore returns the stare, expressionless. A moment passes before Magnifico brings the mic to his lips and speaks once more.

 

"Dub Cee..." Magnifico begins, "You got it, compadre."

 

The fans cheer in anticipation of the just-announced match, as Magnifico smiles warmly at the Tropical Tumbler, who grins broadly, hardly able to contain himself.

 

"I'll see you again in four weeks, on the July 20th Lockdown." ELM offers. "That sound good to you?"

 

"Fantastic, mon." Wildchild happily replies. "See you then."

 

With that, the two men warmly shake hands, doing so as the fans pop once more in anticipation.

 

"Well, there you have it, folks." LDP reports. "Magnifico and Wildchild will face each other one more time on this very program, four weeks from now. And if it's anything like their contest on Storm, it's going to be one hell of a match."

 

"Yeah, fantastic." King states flatly. "Another session of ELM getting the hell beat out of him for fifteen minutes straight." King pauses. "Actually, now that I think about it, I can't wait."

 

"I beat you can't." LDP replies, humoring his broadcast partner. "Anyway, we've gotta take a commercial break, but we'll be right back with more fantastic SWF action!"

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The Panathinaiko Stadium roars to life in the night-time lights, the camera panning around and catching a little lens flare as it pans from side to side. The seats are full, with rows going onto the track and grass, with the huge silhouette of the largest Smarktron ever standing at the open end of the stadium. The shots cut to sign shots with stuff like “EJIRO YOU’RE MY HERO” with the neighboring sign saying “NOTHING RHYMES WITH FASAKI”. Another one says “TOXXIC: STRAIGHT EDGE WITH A TWIST!”, and a few of them written in Greek.

 

“For our next match up, we are supposed to have Austin Sly and Mason facing off in a Hardcore match. For Sly, it’ll be his first match in a little while,” says Pete, shuffling through a few of his notes, “And Manson will be looking for a win after a tough loss at 13th Hour in the 4 way for the Hardcore Title.”

 

“Well, there are only two good things can come of this match: Austin Sly’s return and a Manson losing streak.”

 

“I’m not so sure that Austin will be running at full, though. Whenever you take time off, you always come back a little rusty. And that’s something you don’t want to be facing a veteran like Manson.”

 

“Yeah, you would know about taking time off, glass knees….” finishes King, getting an angry glare from Pete.

 

A little time passes as the crowd waits anxiously for the two competitors to come out…

 

 

 

… but no one comes.

 

“Well, this is certainly odd.”

 

“Hey, wait a sec…” says King, “I didn’t see them on our flight with the rest of the guys. Didn’t some of the guys have to hang back and wait for the late flight out?”

 

“Yes, King, but I’m not sure if-“

 

Suddenly the Smarktron sparks to life, showing one of the baggage trains at Athens International Airport. The shot pans over a little to reveal a grumbling Manson, dressed in jeans and a plain white tee-shirt, waiting for his luggage. The crowd cheers for Manson’s appearance, but it soon turns into confused murmuring at the situation.

 

“God damn overbooked flights…” he mumbles as he waits with a camera man in tow. Next to him stands Sexton Hardcastle, backup referee. “Can you believe this? I can’t believe they didn’t get me on that damn flight,” he says to Hardcastle, “Hell, they booked me on a flight next to YOU. Talk about an insult...”

 

Before Hardcastle can react, a cellphone rings, and Manson reaches into his pocket.

 

“Hello? Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you abo- Yeah, I know I’m late for my match. You are the one who fu- Wait, what do you mean it’s starting now? Hello?”

 

Manson looks over at Hardcastle, obviously not happy with anything right now.

 

“I hate this company some- What are you looking at?” he asks as he finally notices Hardcastle just staring at something behind him. He turns around and…

 

 

 

 

 

*WHACK*

 

 

 

Gets a face full of suitcase as Austin Sly makes his appearance! The crowd boos furiously at giant incarnation of the heel on the Smarktron as he twirls around like a discus thrower, spinning off a second shot at a reeling Manson…

 

 

 

*WHACK*

 

 

And Manson all to the ground with a second shot! Sly stands over the fallen face, dropping the packed suitcase on the floor.

 

“Your bags, sir,” he laughs as he puts his foot on the Stampede’s chest, “Hardcastle, count it.”

 

“Ha! Mason 1:06!” laughs King as Pete just shakes his head in disappointment.

 

“This is just a travesty! He completely blindsided him!”

 

“It’s a hardcore match, Pete! Anything goes!” says King with a grin as the reluctant Sexton comes over and nervously starts a count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

TH-KICKOUT! A cheer rings out for Manson as Austin Sly frowns and pulls him back up to his feet, and gives him a punch right in the face, knocking the former Hardcore Champion right through a full baggage train. The bags go crashing down as a few people look on in stunned silence.

 

“You know, I was wrong. This is my comeback. I shouldn’t rush things,” remarks Sly sarcastically as he walks over to downed Manson, “Might pull a muscle. Don’t want that to happen.”

 

He steps over the now-empty cart into a pile of scattered suitcases, duffle bags, and various other travel items, half-heartedly reaching over to pick the sprawled out Manson up.

 

 

Big mistake.

 

 

 

 

*CRACK*

 

Manson cracks him with a hair dryer taken from the mess! Sly stumbles backwards, almost tripping over the baggage cart as Manson rubs a bruised cheek and gets up to his feet.

 

“Ha! Manson is ‘turning the heat up’ with that maneuver!” says Pete, the fans echoing the sentiment with raucous support.

 

“Oh God…”

 

Sly shakes out the cobwebs from the surprise hit, but the Gamengiri Manson hits next puts him flat on his back clutching his face. The Raging Bull, fully recovered from a close encounter of the travel bag kind, starts searching the pile around him for a better weapon.

 

“Manson wants to repay Austin in full for that cheap shot…”

 

He searches through a few of the bags, tossing out clothing, underwear, a few pairs of lingerie, before coming to a very interesting bag. One with a broken heart on the tag.

 

“Hey, wait a sec… THAT’S MY BAG! I thought they lost it!” yells King as Manson opens it up and finds a treasure trove of weapons: Mace, chains, leather belts, even a sledgehammer and yes, the infamous Ace of Clubs is shoved in diagonally to fit into the small space. All in all, it’s an arsenal that rivals that of the Belize National Guard.

 

“How did you get all that past customs?!”

 

“Pete, I’m the greatest heel ever. You think sneaking in a few little personal items?”

 

He immediately pockets the mace and pulls out the Ace of Clubs, much to the dismay of the recovering Sly. Manson rages forwards, taking a Barry Bonds swing at Sly’s head…

 

 

“STRIKE ONE!” calls King as Austin manages to duck out of the way, “My bat’s to big for you, you stupid minor leaguer!”

 

Manson turns to face and winds up another shot…

 

 

 

 

 

“STRIKE TWO!” as Sly barely dodges a body blow from the black bat. But as he recovers his balance, Manson cracks him in the face with the BUTT of the bat! A huge cheer goes up as gives him another BUTT to his nose, allowing him to deliver a coup de gras cross check! Sly goes down in a heap to the delight of the crowd back at the stadium! He walks over towards Sly’s down form before putting a boot on his chest for a pin, and Sexton, tagging along for the impromptu match, goes down to make the count.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEENO! Kickout by Sly!

 

“Jeez, how can Sly kick out after a blow like that? He can’t last much longer.”

 

“Actually, Pete, judging by how those people are reacting,” says King as the people in the Concourse start running away from the massive fight, “I’m guessing this entire thing won’t last much longer.”

 

Manson backs up, taking up a slugger’s stance behind Austin as Sly struggles back up to his feet. As the heel reaches his knees, he points out off camera towards the ceiling…

 

“He’s calling his shot! He’s looking for the Grand Slam!” says Pete with a laugh as Sly gets up to his feet. Manson swings…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*SWISH*

 

He hits nothing, Sly once again showing incredible speed as he keeps himself out of the hospital with another dodge. Manson falls off balance with the power of the swing, and Sly takes the chance to make a break for it, running down the hallway and pushing past people to try and put some space between him and the Raging Bull. It only takes a few seconds for Manson to recover, and putting the bat over his shoulder he gives chase… but to no avail, as Sly manages to turn a corner and run into an area still packed with people, loosing both Manson and the cameraman in the crowd.

 

“Manson better watch out, Austin could be lurking anywhere in that crowd.”

 

“If I were him, I’d be watching out for security! He’s not exactly inconspicuous walking around with my bat over his shoulder.”

 

Manson stalks through the crowd, getting a few odd glares from the civilians incoming and outgoing, but that doesn’t bother him much. He continues to look into the crowd, trying to figure out where the heck Austin slithered off to. But while Manson doesn’t notice him, the crowd does; in the corner of the camera shot, they see Sly hiding in a group of old American Tourists. He sneaks around towards Manson, trying to blindside him… but Manson catches it out of the corner of his eye! He takes a wild swing, almost hitting Austin AND our trusty cameraman Gus, but he misses. Austin goes low, charging Manson in the stomach.

 

The veteran drops the bat as the wind is knocked out of him, and Sly keeps moving forwards as he slams him into the wall. The impact stuns Manson, and as Austin backs off, Manson stumbles away, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. He quickly takes advantage of this, grabbing him by his hair and leaping forwards, slamming his face into the floor!

 

“Ouch! Talk about a harsh landing…”

 

“Yeah, for real,” says King as Manson gets up, his nose bloodied from the impact, “I didn’t think Manson could get any uglier, but I was just proven wrong…”

 

But before he can get to his feet, Austin pins him down, yelling for Hardcastle to run over and make the final count. People once again are getting the heck out of the way as Hardcastle slides in and starts to make a count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-NO! Manson barely manages to kick out, getting another cheer.

 

“Manson is taking one hell of a beating here, but he just won’t stay down.”

 

“I guess he’s really trying to kill of the last of his brain cells. The stragglers are always the toughest ones to get rid of…”

 

Austin gets off the Stampede, pulling him up with him. He wastes no time as he maneuvers behind him and locks in a sleeper hold! Manson’s face begins to turn as red as the blood streaming out his crushed nasal cavity. He struggles and tries to elbow Sly off, but the larger man just refuses to break the hold.

 

“Manson’s tired, LDP, he can’t possibly break out of this hold after taking all that punishment.”

 

Vision becoming blurrier and blurrier, and his limbs becoming numb, Manson tries harder to break out of the hold, but it’s just not working. But, finally, he remembers his secret weapon …

 

*SHHHHHH*

 

“AHHHHH! MY EYES!” yells Sly as Manson sprays him with the mace in his pocket!

 

“Hey, I only have so many cans of those! He’d better not waste it all!” says King as Austin releases the hold and clutches his eyes with his hands while the Raging Bull falls to his knees gasping for breath. The larger man flails about, his eyes a bloodshot red now from the harmful spray. Manson, meanwhile, gets up rather shakily. Knowing that he’d better not waste the opportunity to finish off Austin, he walks up and nails the helpless man with an STO! He adjusts for a pin as Hardcastle makes another count.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREENO! Sly barely manages to kick out, much to the chagrin of the viewing audience.

 

“It doesn’t take eyes to make a kickout, but Sly can’t last long like this. He’s got to find a way to end this quick…”

 

Sly tries to get up, his vision watery with tears, but Manson stops him from going anywhere with a sharp kick to the gut. He quickly puts on a head scissors, and the crowd begins to swell with anticipation.

 

“He’s moving him into position for the M-Driller! This is it!”

 

Manson begins to lift him up… but he can’t quite get him up, and you don’t need eyesight to flip a man over top of you. Sly does just that, tossing Manson right over top of him and back onto the hard pavement. Not able to see right, Sly starts to move again, trying to buy time to regain his sight. Meanwhile, the Raging Bull lies on the ground clutching the back of his head after smacking it on the pavement.

 

“God, how can Manson still be moving? He’s taken some of the most brutal hits of the match and he still won’t stay beat.”

 

Slowly, the fan favorite gets to his feet, and begins to move towards the slowly-escaping Sly. He begins to catch up, and knocks Sly down with a lariat to the back of the head, falling with the heel for a lazy pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRNO! Sly still won’t stay down!

 

Manson begins to pull Sly up again, but Sly pushes off him and tosses wild slap that connects! The Raging Bull takes it on the cheek, but responds with one of his own, pushing Austin back a few feet. As the two come together again, Austin manages to get the first shot, knocking Manson across the face with a closed fist! Manson’s head whips back from the punch, and Austin follows up with another vicious punch. He winds up with a haymaker… and connects, nearly knocking Manson’s jaw off! But with all the force from the punch, it throws him off balance, and they both manage to tumble into an innocent bystander.

 

Unfortunately for them, though, this one isn’t exactly ‘innocent’.

 

 

 

 

“It’s Frost!” yells Pete as the crowd gives a pop for the former SWF superstar! “The former European, Intercontinental, Tag, and Hardcore champion! He must be here on a business trip or something…”

 

“I’m going to lock BOTH of you in a hurt locker!” says the massive Icelandic beast, brushing off his suit and tie after the tussle. The first to come up to him is Sly, but he throws a tired punch into Frost’s chest that barely stops him. The Iceman from Iceland’s response is a bit more forceful, returning fire with a punch that feels like a freight train. Sly stumbles backwards for a moment before falling to the ground after the massive punch, and Frost turns his vengeful attention towards Manson. He hits Manson with a heart punch, stunning Manson as he pulls him into a head scissors…

 

“A Touch of Frost! You know what that means, King…”

 

Frost underhooks the Raging Bull’s arms, pulling him up and slamming him down with a huge Tiger Driver that hasn’t been seen in ages!

 

“We’re in for an Early Winter!” finishes Pete as the crowd gives a nostalgia pop.

 

Frost looks over at the frightened Hardcastle, and points for him to make the count as he holds the sitting pin.

 

ONE!

 

“Can Frost even win this match? What’s the policy on this?”

 

TWO!

 

“I’m not sure, King, but it looks like he doesn’t really care…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRENO! NO! MANSON KICKS OUT OF THE EARLY WINTER!

 

“What the hell?!” says King as Manson gets up and starts pumping himself up, and the crowd back at the Panathinaiko Stadium goes wild!

 

“MANSONOSITY~! is running wild!!” responds Pete as Frost tries to hit him with another punch, but misses! Manson deftly moves around it, throwing a kick into Frost’s gut. The big man hunches over, allowing Manson to lock on the ¾ Headlock…

 

 

 

*CRACK*

 

 

And snaps down for a picture-perfect Diamond Cutter! The crowd goes absolutely bonkers at this blatant disregard for any psychology or selling, and Manson looks at his next target: Sly. The heel, now just getting up, runs off after watching that display of PURE, UNADULTERATED MANSONOSITY~! The Stampede gives chase once again, and the crowd cheers him on from the stadium.

 

“It looks like Austin doesn’t want any part of this match after that little show of power…”

 

“Holy crap, when did the little jobber learn how to do that!?”

 

The two run through the terminal, Gus the Cameraman huffing and puffing behind them as he tries to keep up. As they approach the planes, Austin makes a turn and pushes through the line and dashes through a metal detector.

 

“Uh-oh…”

 

The alarm goes off, but Manson gives chase as well, pushing past the people at the station as well. Unfortunately, its cut quite short as airport security instantly mobs them on the other side. The two yell to be let go, but it’s pretty obvious that they are in serious trouble now.

 

“Well, I guess we learned that you can completely wreck an airport, rummage through personal belongs, and cause general havoc without arousing suspicion with the Greeks,” says King, “But once you try to get past customs, BAM! They’re on you INS on ELM.”

 

“So… I guess that’s a draw?”

 

“I’d say it’s more of an abortion, but I guess that’s the nice way of putting it.”

 

“At any rate, stay tuned for more action on SWF LOCKDOWN!”

 

*FADE TO COMMERCIAL*

Edited by Justice

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“Mel?”

 

Ejiro Fasaki looks on in confusion as his sister Melissa briskly walks right past him in the hallway, without so much as a hello.

 

“Hey Mel, where ya’ goin’?”

 

Melissa glances back over her shoulder at her brother, but instead of stopping to explain herself, she actually starts walking faster, as she appears to be headed in the direction of Tom Flesher’s office.

 

“I know she’s not heading to talk to him!” Ejiro mutters to himself. He continues to watch her retreating form for a few seconds longer before he decides to get to the bottom of this, and begins to trot down the hallway. “Hey Mel, wait up!”

 

Wherever Melissa is headed, however, she doesn’t appear willing to talk about it with her older brother, going so far as to break into a dead run, breaking around the corner…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… And almost running Wildchild completely over!

 

Melissa places her hands on Wildchild’s chest and looks up at him with desperation in her eyes. “Help me!” she pleads.

 

“Huh?”

 

“He’s crazy!” she insists. “You’ve got to protect me from him!”

 

The Bahama Bomber is positively perplexed. “Who?”

 

Without giving him a direct answer, Melissa wraps her arms around Wildchild’s waist and positions his body in front of hers as Ejiro lumbers around the corner.

 

“Hey… Mel,” The Rule pants between breaths, “what’s… the damn deal?”

 

“No, Jerry,” Melissa says firmly, “I don’t want to talk to you right now!” She then stands up on her tiptoes to whisper in Wildchild’s ear. “Don’t let him take me away, please!”

 

“What’s going on here, Ejiro?”

 

“I’m trying to find that out myself, Dominic,” replies Ejiro, “so I’ll thank you to give my sister and I some privacy so that we can talk.” As the Rule reaches for Melissa, however, she cowers behind Wildchild, unwilling to take his hand, as if he has cooties or something.

 

“I’m not gon’ be able t’ do dat,” replies the Bahama Bomber. “She don’ seem t’ wan’ t’ talk to you right now.”

 

Ejiro’s eyes narrow in irritation. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! This is no concern of yours, Dominic. This is family business, between my sister and me. Now, stand aside!”

 

Wildchild, still totally confused by the whole situation, is nonetheless a little skeptical about his old rival, and finds himself unable to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I beg t’ differ, monsieur; when a beautiful lady asks me for my protection, it becomes my concern! Now, de lady don’ wan’ t’ go wit you, so I suggest dat you go find someone else t’ annoy!”

 

By this point, Ejiro has long since bypassed irritation, and has moved on to full-blown anger. He takes a few steps closer to stand nose-to-nose with his arch nemesis. “Alright then, Wildchild; if you want to make this personal, we can get personal! If you want to get your ass beat over somebody else’s business, that’s not my problem!”

 

“Don’t talk about it, monsieur,” replies Wildchild. “Be about it; dere ain’t nothin’ between us but air an’ opportunity!”

 

Ejiro smirks in response. “Why should I kick your ass here, when I can do it in front of thirty thousand? You know, I still owe you for Ashes 2 Ashes, so I’ll be more than happy to rip you a new asshole in front of everyone here in Athens!”

 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” replies the Bahama Bomber.

 

Ejiro scowls at his sister. “We’re definitely going to talk about this later,” he says, “WITHOUT him!” With that, he spins around on his heel, storming off in the other direction while Melissa continues to peer from behind Wildchild.

 

As we:

FADE OUT

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Pete: “And we return live to Lockdown in Greece, and we’re going to see yet another matchup in the series between Jay Hawke and Arch Griffon.”

 

King: “And this time the rules are in the International Champion’s favor! At 13th Hour, Jay Hawke had the odds stacked against him, and he still found a way to pull out the victory. This time, it’s an Olympic style wrestling match. Amateur wrestling. Something Arch Griffon knows very little about.”

 

Pete: “And this match will be on a scoring system, so let’s take a brief look at how points are going to be scored in this match.”

 

From the feet:

Takedown = 1 point.

Takedown from feet to back = 3 points

Suplex from feet to stomach, side, etc. = 3 points

Suplex from feet to back = 5 points

 

On the mat:

Near-fall (any back exposure) = 2 points

Suplex started off the mat (eg a German where you lift the guy from his stomach) = +1 point bonus for the lift.

 

Pete: “And remember one thing. Striking your opponent is illegal, and will result in penalties. You lose five points for the first offense, ten points for the second offense, and you will be disqualified on the third offense.”

 

King: “And remember that in Olympic rules, all it takes is a one count to earn the pinfall. With these two men used to having three seconds to get the shoulder up, that could become a huge factor as well.”

 

Pete: “And with that, let’s go up to the ring and Funyon’s introductions.”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is an Olympic rules match scheduled for three three-minute rounds.”

 

The familiar strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” come on the PA as the lights dim.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first … from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … he is the current SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he emerges from the curtain, and he heads to the ring wearing his trademark black and purple robe. As the crowd gets into its familiar chant…

 

“HAWKE SUCKS!

HAWKE SUCKS!

HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

…Jay Hawke slowly turns his head toward the crowd and sneers at the people who love to hate him. Hawke heads to the ring, taking off his robe and folding it before handing it to the ring attendant. He then turns toward the aisle, staring at the entryway with an ice cold stare.

 

King: “It’s nice to see that ‘Hawke sucks’ sounds exactly the same in every country we go to.”

 

The arena goes dark as “Bloodlust of the Human Condition” comes over the PA.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent. From Des Moines, Iowa … weighing in at 302 pounds … ARRRRRRRRRRCH GRIFFONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”

 

As the crowd gives off a mixed reaction, the lights continue to dim. Just as the song begins to kick into gear, white pyrotechnics shoot from the aisle, blinding the fans in the arena. Griffon emerges from the pyro, power walking to the ring as always.

 

Pete: “And this should be interesting. Not only because of how the rules are structured, but I don’t think Scott Ryder has ever refereed a match with these rules before.”

 

King: “I don’t think any of our referees have ever refereed a match with these rules before.”

 

Both men approach the center of the ring, with Scott Ryder asking them to stay separated.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 0

Time remaining: 3:00, 2:59, 2:58...

 

As the bell rings to signal the start of round one, both men take a step toward each other. Griffon tries to initiate the lockup, but Hawke pushes him away. Griffon continues to try to initiate the lockup, but Hawke keeps pushing Arch’s hands away to prevent him from grabbing on.

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke may need to use his quickness here, as Griffon’s got the definite power advantage.”

 

King: “It’s not every day you see an Olympic style wrestling match where there’s a ninety pound weight difference.”

 

As Griffon moves in for another lockup, Jay Hawke tries to sneak behind into a waistlock, but Griffon uses what speed he has to spin around and prevent Jay Hawke from locking his hands. Both men turn to face each other, and Griffon moves in for a lockup again. This time Hawke spins behind into the waistlock, then grabs Griffon’s foot and brings him down to the mat. Griffon quickly hops back up, but Scott Ryder signals one point for the takedown.

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 1

Time remaining: 2:14, 2:13, 2:12...

 

King: “I’m guessing this is freestyle and not Greco-Roman.”

 

Pete: “We thought about doing Greco-Roman, but management thought the lack of leg attacks would be too boring.”

 

King: “That’s probably a rare good call by management.”

 

With both men at a vertical base, they again move in. Hawke again spins behind and wraps up a waistlock. Griffon plants his feet, preventing Hawke from getting another takedown. He tries to separate the hands, but Jay Hawke maintains a vicelike grip. Griffon instinctively throws an elbow that catches Jay Hawke in the temple…

 

Pete: “No Arch!”

 

…and Scott Ryder immediately signals to the timekeeper to deduct five points from Arch Griffon.

 

Griffon: -5

Hawke: 1

Time remaining: 1:43, 1:42, 1:41...

 

King: “See, and that’s where these two men not using these rules too often comes into play! In a normal professional match, that elbow is a legal and effective counter for that waistlock, but this time it put Griffon into a huge hole!”

 

With his arguments falling on deaf ears, Arch Griffon again charges his opponent. Hawke avoids the clinch by hooking both legs and taking Griffon straight down onto his buttocks. Hawke spins around and wraps his arms around the waist again as Scott Ryder signals for another point.

 

Griffon: -5

Hawke: 2

Time remaining: 1:19, 1:18, 1:17

 

Jay Hawke tries to roll Arch Griffon over onto his back for the fall, but Griffon shifts his weight forward to prevent his back from being exposed. Griffon works his way to his feet, then grabs a hold of Hawke’s arms and unlocks his hands. Griffon immediately reverses the waistlock, but Hawke spins away from it before Griffon can lock his hands together.

 

Pete: “Hawke is finding a way to keep Arch Griffon from getting a hold of him.”

 

Both men face each other, and Arch Griffon tries to lock up with Hawke again.

 

King: “I would do the same thing.”

 

Griffon decides to go for the waist instead, locking in a bear hug.

 

King: “The way these rules are structured, Griffon could use his strength to get in a quick suplex, and that seven point deficit doesn’t last very long.”

 

Arch Griffon immediately proves Suicide King right, as he takes Hawke down with a side belly-to-belly suplex. Scott Ryder rules Hawke landed on his side and awards Griffon three points.

 

Griffon: -2

Hawke: 2

Time remaining: :30, :29, :28

 

Arch Griffon immediately tries to use his strength and positioning to turn Hawke onto his back. Hawke tries to keep his body as wide as possible to keep Griffon from turning him, but Hawke’s shoulder hits the mat for a split-second. Hawke immediately rolls through it, but not fast enough to keep Scott Ryder from awarding two points for the near fall.

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 2

Time remaining: :11, :10:, :09...

 

Arch Griffon attempts to use his strength to an even further advantage, trying to get to his feet. He gets to one knee, but before he can try for the throw that would give him the lead…

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 0

End of Round 1

 

Pete: “That’s the end of the first round, and what a comeback by Arch Griffon after falling behind early.”

 

King: “And the key to that was getting the five point penalty for the elbow to the head. Griffon could actually be leading this match right now had he only been able to avoid throwing the elbow.”

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 2

Time remaining: 3:00, 2:59, 2:58...

 

King: “That was a pretty quick rest period.”

 

Pete: “The show must be running long already.”

 

Arch Griffon immediately tries the bear hug out of the gate, trying to pick up another three point takedown. Hawke immediately grabs Griffon’s right leg and lifts it. Griffon struggles to keep Hawke from getting the proper leverage on the leg pick and reaches for a front headlock. Hawke pulls his head back, then leans in and grabs Griffon’s left leg. With both legs trapped, Hawke is able to lift both legs and bring Griffon down to his back. Scott Ryder immediately awards three points as Griffon rolls to his knees.

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 5

Time remaining: 2:28, 2:27, 2:26...

 

Jay Hawke immediately grabs Arch Griffon by the waist as Griffon struggles to get to his feet. Hawke leans forward, getting Griffon off of his knees and thus taking away any leverage Griffon may have had.

 

King: “I’m not sure if we’re going to award riding time in this match or not, but this is sound strategy at any rate.”

 

Arch Griffon regains the positioning of his knees and tries sitting out, but Jay Hawke refuses to let Griffon escape.

 

Pete: “Well, either time’s going to get away from Arch Griffon, or Hawke might be able to get a fall if he can turn him over.”

 

With Arch Griffon unable to spin out of the move, he decides to grab the ropes instead. While it forces Scott Ryder to bring them to the center of the ring, Ryder rules Griffon must return to his knees.

 

King: “So Jay Hawke gets one point for the pushout, right?”

 

Pete: “This isn’t Real Pro Wrestling.”

 

King: “What about the twenty second bonus?”

 

Hawke takes advantage of the positioning, rolling Griffon over to his back just enough for Scott Ryder to award two points for the near fall.

 

Griffon: 0

Hawke: 7

Time remaining: 1:31, 1:30, 1:29...

 

Arch Griffon makes his way to his feet. Hawke is right up after him. Hawke moves in to tie Griffon up, but Griffon reaches up and slaps Jay Hawke across the face. Scott Ryder immediately steps in to admonish him, then signals to the timekeeper to knock ten points off Griffon’s score.

 

Griffon: -10

Hawke: 7

Time remaining: 1:14, 1:13, 1:12...

 

Pete: “And what horrible timing for Griffon to do that!”

 

King: “He forgets where he is in that ring, and he ends up getting himself penalized! What a stupid move by the former champion!”

 

Pete: “And all Hawke has to do at this point is avoid getting pinned, and he’s probably got the match locked up at this point!”

 

Jay Hawke moves in, trying to grab Arch Griffon’s legs for another takedown. Griffon is quick to back away from it though. Hawke moves in again, but Griffon slips behind Jay Hawke and grabs him by the waist, then lifts him up, taking him straight backwards onto his back. Scott Ryder awards five points for the suplex, and Griffon rolls to his feet without letting his opponent go.

 

Griffon: -5

Hawke: 7

Time remaining: :36, :35, :34...

 

Pete: “Griffon essentially hit a German suplex there, and that will cut into the deficit in a hurry!”

 

King: “Yeah, but he’s still got a lot of ground to make up and not a lot of time to do it in!”

 

Griffon tries for another lift, but Jay Hawke plants his feet as far apart as possible to keep himself from going over. Griffon lifts a forearm, but quickly thinks better of it and locks the waist tighter.

 

Griffon: -5

Hawke: 7

Time remaining: :21, :20, :19...

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke’s hanging on for dear life!”

 

King: “All he needs is to avoid getting taken over again!”

 

Arch Griffon lifts, but Jay Hawke wraps his leg around Arch’s to keep himself from going over. Arch lifts again, and this time he gets him up. Griffon pops his hips back…

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

THUD!

 

Arch Griffon takes Jay Hawke over, but Scott Ryder immediately waves it off, claiming it was after the bell.

 

Griffon: -5

Hawke: 7

End of Round 2

 

Pete: “If only Arch Griffon would have had another half a second to work with!”

 

King: “Hey, there’s a reason these are three minute rounds instead of three minute five second rounds!”

 

As Arch Griffon vehemently argues with Scott Ryder, Jay Hawke begins to crawl toward his opponent from behind. He lifts an arm…

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

…and catches Arch Griffon with a low blow. Griffon falls to the canvas in extreme pain as Scott Ryder signals for the five point deduction.

 

Griffon: -5

Hawke: 2

Time remaining: 2:51, 2:50, 2:49...

 

Pete: “A low blow, and that could prove costly!”

 

King: “I dispute that! That happened during the rest period!”

 

Pete: “You’ve got to be joking, King! It’s illegal even during the rest period!”

 

Jay Hawke immediately kneels down next to his fallen opponent, hooks his arms, and spins him onto his back. Scott Ryder has no choice but to go down for the count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Pete: “This is ridiculous!”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, after 28 seconds of the third round, your winner via pinfall … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ and the International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWKE!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Pete: “Hawke only gained the pinfall thanks to a cheap low blow!”

 

King: “Hey, the rules said there was a five point penalty for a strike, and Ryder awarded the points accordingly!”

 

Pete: “Let’s face the facts here, King. If you take away the penalties at that point of the match, Griffon would have actually been ahead 10-5! He outwrestled Jay Hawke tonight!”

 

King: “Wrong! Griffon was only able to score after those strikes cost him those penalties!”

 

Pete: “Regardless, the International Champion is fortunate to walk out of here with a victory tonight.”

 

King: “And Tom Flesher’s thanking God you’ll never actually see Jay Hawke and Arch Griffon in the Olympics anytime soon.”

 

Pete: “And we’ll return in just a few moments with the hardcore championship on the line! That’s next on Lockdown!”

Edited by Ace309

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*knock-knock*

 

“Yo!”

 

“…‘Yo’?”

 

Toxxic doesn’t even bother to turn around. He only knows one person who can invest a single syllable with so much distaste that it sounds like the whole word can only be handled with long tongs and thick protective gloves.

 

“Hey Scott,” he greets his guest, “what’s up?”

 

“What’s up?” Scott Pretzler says as he enters the locker room and closes the door behind him. “Well, to start with we are in Greece, the birthplace of modern Western culture, and yet Justin is-”

 

“Who?” Toxxic asks, looking around questioningly.

 

“Justin?” Pretzler repeats, but only sees blank incomprehension on the face of his former leader. “JJ?” he tries again, and is greeted with recognition in the steel grey eyes.

 

“Ah, right,” Toxxic acknowledges. “Go on.”

 

“Well, JJ has been booked in some ludicrous ‘match’ involving him having to fight against two other men whilst trying to plant a tree,” Pretzler says, the tone of voice clearly indicating his feelings for the art of combat horticulture. “This is a man who until fairly recently was competing in the genuine -if rather vulgar- sport of Ultimate Fighting, now forced in a mockery that barely even deserves the name Sports Entertainment, let alone wrestling!”

 

“Yeah, but JJ’ll have the chance to become Athens’ patron wrestler,” Toxxic points out. “Don’t deny the man his chance at glory.”

 

“But in the meantime, Arch Griffon and Jay Hawke have a match that actually approximates genuine Olympic rules!” Pretzler points out. “I can’t help but think that the booking committee could have chosen a better way to showcase our former stablemate’s talents.”

 

“Pretz, the guy who books Lockdown is a bit… weird,” Toxxic tells the Critic, “might as well get used to it. Besides, JJ is our former stablemate,” he reminds Pretzler, “if he wants to object to a match that gives him a shot at a title and immortality it’s his job to do it, not ours.”

 

“I seem to recall that not that long ago you would have made a far bigger issue of this,” Pretzler says with a faint hint of criticism. “I appreciate that Revolution Zero is officially disbanded, but still-”

 

“Yeah, it is disbanded,” Toxxic tells him, although without rancour “and you’d best get used to that, too. I’m just sick of fronting for everything, Scott. From now on I’m going to wrestle the bloody matches and see what happens. Take tonight, for example,” the Straight-Edge Sensation continues, “I could have thrown a schiz at Flesher for pulling strings on a show that’s not even his and booking me into this blind, but you know what? Sod ‘im. Even if the last mystery opponent was El Luchadore Magnifico, they can’t have another legend waiting in the wings.”

 

“Yes, it was about that I wanted to see you actually,” Pretzler says with a faint hint of uneasiness. “You see, I was in Tom’s office earlier and-”

 

“You were what?” Toxxic says sharply. “Why? Don’t get me wrong,” he carries on without giving Pretzler a chance to answer his initial question, “you’re not in my stable anymore so you can do what you like, but just be careful, yeah? You seem to have been getting a bit chummy lately with the Superior Arse, but remember that he’s not praising your workrate and technical skills for nothing; he’ll want something, sooner or later.”

 

“Well, perhaps,” Pretzler mutters, although he sounds unconvinced. “Anyway,” he continues, “I’ve found out that your oppone-”

 

“Uh-uh!” Toxxic cuts him off, wagging a black-nailed finger at his former stablemate. “It’s meant to be a mystery opponent, remember Scott? Where would the fun be if I went out there knowing who I was facing? Like I said,” the Brit continues as he grabs his holdall off the bench, “they can’t have another top-quality wrestler hanging around, and even if they do, it don’t matter. I’m not thinking whoever-it-is will have much of a shot at beating me.” He grins at the Critic, who doesn’t returns the gesture. “But now,” Toxxic concludes, “I’m going off to see if they sell Coke in this place. Laters.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure you can beat him,” Scott Pretzler is left to tell the empty lockeroom, shaking his head. It’s unclear whether Pretzler’s regret is that he didn’t get to tell Toxxic who his opponent was, or at the actual identity of the mystery wrestler. “I wouldn’t be so sure at all…

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Longdogger Pete: It is time for the Acropolis Now, Hardcore Title match.

 

Suicide King: Alright the portion of Smarkdown where a group of wrestlers basically murder each other to my satisfaction.

 

Pete can only shake his head and ignore his over the top partner in color commentating.

 

Pete: The rules in short form are that the competitors in the match must first find an olive tree hidden somewhere in the Acropolis, which is where the match will be taking place. The winner of the match is the individual that plants the tree in a temple called Erechtheion.

 

King: Listening to you explain all of that in “short form” really gave me a headache.

 

Pete: Well too bad, I’m not done.

 

King: Oh god.

 

Pete: Like at 13th Hour cameras will be placed all around Acropolis and all damages shall be paid for by the SWF.

 

Pete’s voice is left in the background as the Greece fans in attendance turn their heads toward the biggest Smarktron in history as a vision of the Acropolis Hill is flashed on to the screen. On the hill are the competitors…

 

King: Damn they are already going.

 

The fans rise to their feet to view the match, which is being featured on the LARGEST SMARKTRON EVAAAAA!!!

 

SMACK!

 

And we are off…

 

“The Franchise” Mak Francis sends a right hand toward JJ Johnson that connects and knocks Johnson off balance. Johnson though catches himself and throws a kick that Francis catches, but JJ comes back with an enziguri attempt…but Mak sees it coming and ducks…only to take a kick to the head from Zyon. The reigning hardcore champ then drops a quick elbow on to Johnson who was lying on his stomach after missing the enziguri. Zyon then rises to his feet as does “The Franchise” who charges Zyon with a clothesline, but Zyon shows off his ability and wraps around Mak and looks to be in a crucifix position. Mak though keeps his ground and doesn’t let the “Unique Youth” take him over.

 

King: Why such drama over a crucifixion attempt?

 

Pete: To be honest, I have no idea.

 

One person who also has no clue, but quite honestly doesn’t care would be JJ Johnson who rises to his feet and brutalizes Mak with rights and lefts…

 

King: Hey JJ you’re not in the cage anymore.

 

Mak once again loses his balance and falls backward causing Zyon to be crushed on the road covered in rock and clay. Mak rolls off of the downed champ who can just clutch his back in agony. Johnson then turns away from his opponents and looks to go on the hunt for the olive tree, but Mak Francis will have none of that. “The Franchise” gets back to his feet and goes to lock Johnson into a waist lock, but the former UFC fighter quickly counters and lifts Francis up into a German suplex attempt, but Francis elbows his way out and then wildly swings a back hand…that misses. Johnson then locks “The Franchise” into a northern lights suplex and performs the move, but without the bridge as he just slams Mak on to his back.

 

Speaking of being slammed on to your back, Zyon is back on his feet and just as JJ Johnson reaches his the young cruiserweight leaps into the air and lands on the shoulders of Johnson who is at the mercy of the “Unique Youth.” Zyon lowers multiple blows on to the head of Johnson and then crosses his leg over the head of Johnson so that all his weight is on one side of Johnson’s body and then drops the UFC fighter with a bulldog on to the Greek road.

 

Pete: Modified bulldog by Zyon.

 

King: That road is very unforgiving.

 

Johnson covers his face as Zyon reaches his feet and looks to go and attack the now standing Mak Francis. Zyon charges and leaps into the air and goes for a hurricarana, but Mak does not fall to the flashy yet common cruiser move. Zyon finds himself in a power bomb position and quickly resorts to wildly punching Mak whose back is cut up from the throwing northern lights that he suffered earlier. The fists being landed on to the head of Mak causes “The Franchise” to wobble side to side before throwing Zyon into one of the many temples in the area, but Zyon uses his “Matrix” instincts and simply kicks off the building and looks to cross body Mak, but is instead met with a dropkick!

 

Pete: Oh…

 

King: That will teach him.

 

Zyon falls to the ground clutching his chest as he gasps for air. Mak then shows his mean streak by kicking the downed Zyon…again…and again. Mak then spots a stone…that looks to be the size of someone’s head.

 

Pete: That stone is huge.

King: Hmmmm…I wonder what Mak is thinking.

 

King sarcastically wonders as Mak turns to face Zyon who is still on the ground, but instead gets kicked in the gut by JJ Johnson. Mak though takes the kick and swings the stone at the head of Johnson who easily evades a possible KO. Johnson then back sweeps Mak who falls on to his back, but has the mind to keeps the stone from falling on to his face…that is until Johnson leaps into the air and leg drops the stone into the face of his adversary!!

 

“OOOOOOOHHHHH!”

 

The fans echo back at the stadium as Mak insanely rolls on the ground while clutching his face.

 

Pete: Sadly, a SICK attack like that is all but legal in this match.

 

King: Hey Mak looked to use the stone first, JJ was just defending himself.

 

Johnson admires his handy work before noticing that Zyon is back to his feet and now Johnson wants some payback for having his face forced into rocks and clay. JJ charges the Hardcore champ who is visibly still trying to catch his breath after having it knocked from him earlier. Johnson then jumps into the air and goes for one of his beautiful dropkicks, but Zyon waves Johnson to the side, but the former cage fighter finds a way to land on his hands and immediately rises to his feet before being met by a Zyon forearm. Johnson staggers backward…into Mak!

 

King: Hey he’s awake.

 

Pete: He was never unconscious.

 

Mak blindsides Johnson with a clothesline that could truly be described as being from hell. Johnson’s neck snaps to the side as the former UFC fighter falls to the ground gripping the back of his neck. Mak then steps over the fallen wrestler and makes his way toward Zyon who looks to catch Mak off guard by leaping into the air and again going for a hurricarana. Once again however Mak keeps his ground and in one motion hurls Zyon into a temple, and this time Zyon can’t show off his abilities. However Zyon does show his dart impression as he goes headfirst into the temple. Zyon doesn’t bounce…or for those wondering he doesn’t stick to the temple either. He simply slides down the wall and on to the ground.

 

King: Bulls eye!!

 

Pete: King I saw that coming a mile away.

 

King: Yes, but did you see THIS coming…

 

SMACK???

 

Suicide King proceeds to smack Longdogger across the head causing a mix of laughter and booing to float across the stadium. Back at Acropolis Hill there is currently no action as Zyon could possibly be unconscious and Johnson doesn’t even know if he can feel from the neck down. The only man standing would be “The Franchise” Mak Francis who obviously still angry over his loss to Danny Williams tries to decide rather to look for the olive tree or to continue hurting his opponents…

 

“The Franchise” decides to continue his attack, but not on the recently fallen Zyon, but on JJ Johnson who just made is successful return with a win over the late Andrew Rickmen. “The Franchise” who is definitely in control goes over to where Johnson’s prone body was…

 

Wait a minute…WAS????

 

Yes Was. Mak’s face is covered in confusion as he searches for the UFC fighter turned pro wrestler. Mak kicks up some rock in anger and tur…BAM!!

 

Pete: Oh my Shamrock style belly-to-belly suplex from JJ Johnson.

 

King: That was done excellently in my important yet humble opinion.

 

Johnson doesn’t let up though as he locks Mak in a dragon sleeper. The fans neither boo nor cheer. Sure they hate Johnson, but Mak has lately been acting quite heelish so maybe “The Franchise” could be getting what he deserves. As Johnson continues to torture Mak Francis with one of his many submissions the current Hardcore champion finds himself alone. Zyon decides to make the first attempt at looking for the olive tree and heads toward a temple called the Parthenon.

 

Pete: Ah the Parthenon, the place where…

 

King: Please, I don’t need a history lesson.

 

Pete: But all I was going to say was…

 

King: Pete! Nobody cares.

 

Pete is forced to bite his tongue and suppress his anger as Zyon makes his way toward the Parthenon and enters it, as it seems the cruiser is heading toward the Cella…AKA the center of the temple. Yes if you are wondering JJ has released the dragon sleeper, but only because Mak was able to find a stone and blindly busted Johnson in the face with it causing the former UFC fighter to bleed, which is a normal occurrence in SWF hardcore matches. Back in the temple Zyon has reached the middle and finds a treasure chess!!

 

Pete: Could the tree be in the chess.

 

King: Duh Pete, of course its in there.

 

Suicide King seems to be teaching Pete a lesson in how to be a complete asshole. Zyon walks toward the chess and opens it without no incident…too easy.

 

Almost TOO easy…

 

Zyon reaches inside the chess and pulls out a…a….

 

Pete: What the?

 

King: HAHAHA!!!

 

Zyon has in his hand not an olive tree, but a one of a kind Greek made clay figurine of the “Superior One” Tom Flesher…*MARK OUT*

 

Pete: King you were wrong…I guess.

 

King: SO! This is just too funny.

 

Zyon is stunned, but is literally knocked back into reality by Mak Francis who places a Yakuza kick into the spine of the back of Zyon who falls on to all fours. Mak then goes in for the kill, but Zyon pops back up and nails “The Franchise” with the “Superior One” clay figurine. The figurine actually packs a punch as Mak is knocked back allowing Zyon to drop the one of a kind figure and finally perform a hurricarana on to “The Franchise!”

 

Pete: He got him!

 

King: It’s not like he can win the match with that move.

 

Pete: Yeah, but…

 

King: Small animal with big ears.

 

King continues his ways as Zyon exits the temple via the back exit and gets knocked on his ass by another Yakuza kick this time performed by JJ Johnson.

 

Yakuza Kick- 2

 

Zyon- 0

 

Zyon tries to pull himself up, but Johnson quickly attempts to lock in a dragon sleeper, but Mak Francis comes from behind and quickly breaks it up with a clubbing forearm to the back of Johnson. Zyon and Mak then communicate and they perform a double suplex on to what some call a SWF legend. JJ Johnson lands back first caught his back to scratch

and bleed a little.

 

King: Hey isn’t this all against all.

 

Pete: Well JJ must have drawn the short straw.

 

King: The same straw you drew on life, huh Pete.

 

Pete: Whatever…

 

Pete doesn’t let King get to him, but Mak is able to get to Zyon by attempting a gut wrench suplex, but counters as Mak gets the champ vertical. Zyon uses his athleticism by flipping out of Mak’s grip and landing on his feet. The “Unique Youth” then walks up and looks to perform the reverse northern lights suplex known as “Nature.” Mak though counters with a simple, but harsh elbow to the back of Zyon’s head. Mak then grabs Zyon by the back of his head and forces him face first into the road multiple times. The face of the Hardcore champ is cut, but nothing like the crimson masks from 13th Hour…at least not yet. Mak then lifts the lightweight into the air in a gorilla slam position and once again goes to turn Zyon into a human dart, but this time Zyon just rakes the eyes of Mak causing “The Franchise” to lose his grip letting Zyon get back to his feet only to be knock to the ground from a JJ Johnson throat thrust. Zyon clutches his throat as a blinded Mak searches and turns into an impaler DDT attempt from JJ Johnson.

 

Keyword…attempt.

 

Mak uses his fists to punch his way out of JJ’s impaler DDT. Mak then notices that Johnson is doubled over…so what the hell. Mak grabs Johnson and goes for Johnson’s own impaler DDT, but in mid air Johnson counters and places Mak in an arm bar. Johnson has Mak in perfect position to break his arm as “The Franchise” tries to find a way to maneuver himself out of his situation, but to no avail. Zyon makes it to his feet and goes to look for the olive tree, but Johnson released his grip on Mak and chases the “Unique Youth” down with anger in his eyes. Johnson attacks Zyon by trying to take him down with an arm bar just like he did Mak. Zyon though bends his knees and places his free hand on the ground to keep his body from going flat on the road of the Acropolis Hill.

 

Pete: Zyon showing that he can be a wee bit technical.

 

King: Pete…he doesn’t want his arm broke.

 

Pete: But look at the skill…

 

King: Pete! He doesn’t want his arm broke.

 

Suicide King is indeed a jerk, but he does have a point. Zyon then though shows something that the SWF fans expect of him…cruiserweight style escapes. Zyon uses his free hand to flip himself out of the arm bar and face forward on Johnson who again goes for the arm bar, but this Zyon is able to kick him right SQUARE in the face causing JJ Johnson to back up and grab his nose, which could possibly be bleeding or worse broke. Zyon runs forward and goes to launch himself into the air, but Mak steps in and clotheslines Zyon down to the ground just as he was getting ready to leap into the air and cause all sorts of problems. Mak turns and is mighty pissed at Johnson for his earlier attempt at breaking his arm. Mak with violent intent in his expression walks up to Johnson and kicks JJ in the gut and Irish whips him face first into a random temple. Johnson bounces off the temple and falls to the ground covered in a minor crimson mask!!

 

Pete: Oh, shoot he’s bleeding.

 

King: Way to state the obvious.

 

Mak then maneuvers himself on top of JJ Johnson and lets loose with lightning like rights and lefts all aimed at the gash on Johnson’s head. JJ Johnson is now bleeding pretty harshly as Mak stares at his bloody hands and smiles. Mak gets to his feet and goes to pick Zyon up…

 

SMACK!!!

 

Zyon though does not compute as he snaps Mak’s chin area with a European uppercut that actually causes Mak to leap into the air a few inches. Zyon then hits Mak with a left forearm and then once again goes for another damaging European uppercut, but this time Mak dodges at the last possible second by snapping his head back away from the strike. “The Franchise” then lifts Zyon up…”Filthy German!!”

 

King: That’s the way you counter one of those.

 

Pete: I couldn’t agree more.

 

Longdogger agrees with his snobby yet correct announcing partner as Zyon is dropped on his head/neck region in a bad way. Mak shows off his recent heel side by talking trash to the motionless Zyon…

 

“MAK IS BAD

 

CLAP

 

CLAP

 

CLAP!!”

 

This isn’t the Vatican, but this isn’t Detroit either. The negative chant is obviously aimed at Mak who can’t hear it, but probably could care less even if he could. Mak now has his eyes or mind on the prize as tries to think about where he should go to look for the olive tree…and he’s got it. Mak makes his way toward an important piece of architecture known as the Propylaea.

 

Pete: Of course the olive tree could possibly be in the Propylaea.

 

King: The what??

 

King along with the rest of the people watching at home in the United States must wonder the same thing as Mak is suddenly stopped in his tracks by JJ Johnson who looks to be headed in the same direction. Mak charges the bloody Johnson…

 

CRACK…

 

Pete: He’s got a kendo stick.

 

King: I personally don’t care where he found it.

 

“OHHHHH”

 

The fans echo after another shot from the kendo stick. Mak is forced backward by the hellish shots coming from a bloody and beaten JJ Johnson. Johnson then decides to throw some UFC background into his hardcore wrestling by focusing on a body part. Johnson goes to swing at the head of “The Franchise” but Mak ducks…yet all he is doing is falling into the plan of the shoot fighter who hits Mak in the right leg with a sharp kendo stick attack. Francis clutches his leg that takes another shot from the former UFC fighter. Johnson is able to get a sick grin through the blood covering his face before swinging the kendo stick backwards…only for it to be taken from his hand by Zyon who proceeds to swing the stick toward the head of Johnson who dodges causing the kendo stick to meet with MAK’s head busting him open. Mak falls backward on to the road covered in stone as Johnson looks to get his kendo stick back, but not before having to dodge another one of Zyon’s swings. JJ Johnson ducks and rolls away from Zyon. The Hardcore champ charges and gets speared by Johnson who was also rushing at Zyon. Zyon drops the kendo stick as he clutches his stomach while JJ Johnson grabs his shoulder, which is hurting from the impact of the spear.

 

Pete: Have these men forgot about the olive tree?

 

King: No, but the real question is that do they care about the olive tree?

 

JJ Johnson walks toward his kendo stick and then past it as he makes his way toward the Propylaea where the key to victory could be. Johnson quickens his pace as his strides get longer and longer before he makes it to the grand piece of architecture. This architecture is built like most of the temples in the area…on columns. The Propylaea looks like it has indeed seen better days, and unlike the Parthenon it doesn’t have any art and it isn’t nearly as big. Johnson enters the temple and quickly looks for the tree, but finds nothing but dirt and a Senior Citizen Tour of Athens.

 

King: Hey Pete is that your grandma.

 

Pete: That’s just wrong King.

 

The camera shows an extremely older lady who like the temple has seen some better days. A bloody Johnson walks up to the group of traveling elder people and shouts…

 

“Have any of you seen an olive tree around here…HUH!!”

 

JJ’s scratched voice screams the loudest it has ever screamed, post- Chuck Liddell kick to the throat. His voice and bloody face simply scares the citizens causing just a bunch of mumbles and unrecognizable answers. JJ gets irritated and looks to threaten one of the elderly, but out of NOWHERE he gets dropped by Mak Francis who just attacked Johnson with a cane. Nearby there is an elderly lady sitting on the ground…yeah you can piece it together.

 

Pete: That Mak Francis is just as evil as JJ Johnson for stealing that old ladies cane like that.

 

King: Oh just because its your grandma.

 

Pete: MY GRANDMA’S DEAD, IDIOT!!

 

King: *Silence*

 

Pete lets loose on King while Francis BREAKS the cane over the head of JJ Johnson. “The Franchise” turns and is stunned as the elder people are all looking into the air in unison. “The Franchise” is confused to he follows and is then in trouble as Zyon has recovered from being speared and is on top of the architecture…

 

Pete: Good lord King he must be…

 

King: Really high up there.

 

Zyon leaps off the architecture and falls back toward earth with major velocity and lands on Mak with a MAJOR cross body block!!

 

“YEAAAHHHHH!!!!”

 

The fans cheer since they aren’t the type to chant “Holy Shit.” Zyon quickly rolls off of Mak Francis, who is just staring at the sky trying to understand what just happened to him. Zyon’s stomach region seems to be really killing him after the spear and that holy cross body block. And Johnson…well he is still trying to recuperate from the cane strike of doom.

 

Pete: Well all three men are currently down.

 

King: Man that cross body block was insane, serves Zyon right for getting hurt.

 

Pete: Let me guess stupid spot monkey.

 

King: That is right!

 

“Let’s Go Zyon!!”

 

A chant echoes out for the only pure face in the match, but deep down all men are being chanted and cheered on. As the chant continues Zyon is the first to his feet followed by JJ Johnson who runs up and tackles Zyon who is still catching his breath. The two men end up rolling down hill and out of the temple and back on the street as the groups of Senior citizens are intrigued by SWF’s hardcore display. They follow as JJ Johnson finds himself to his feet, as does his opponent who happens to be the current champion. Mak Francis is still out of the picture, but we all know that shouldn’t last long unless he wants to have the same outcome as 13th Hour.

 

Pete: These two men showing obvious signs of fatigue.

 

King: And Johnson’s loss of blood is not helping.

 

Johnson charges…well as fast a he can charge at this point of the match, but Zyon simply leap frogs a bloody JJ Johnson and turns looks to hit Johnson with the “SNAP” running dropkick!!!

 

King: He’s attempting that “Snap” dropkick.

 

Pete: One of the more popular moves in the SWF today as far as momentum changers go.

 

JJ Johnson doesn’t care about popularity as he catches Zyon in the air and slams him to the ground and then looks to lock in the “Lion Tamer!!!”

 

King: Oh, now here is a momentum changer.

 

Pete: And under normal circumstances a possible match ender.

 

Zyon struggles and kicks Johnson away long enough for him to be able to kip up…and gets WALLAPED by a steel chair from the one and only Mak Francis!!

 

Pete: Man what a deadly shot!

 

King: He must have gotten the steel chair back at the temple.

 

Zyon falls backwards and to the ground after having his face imprinted in the chair. The chair shot completes the crimson mask trifecta as Zyon immediately begins to bleed; his skin already soften from being slammed into the ground face first multiple times earlier. Francis raises the chair above his head to KILL JJ Johnson with it, but Johnson brings the HEEL HEAT, by kicking “The Franchise” down low.

 

“BOOOOOO!”

 

Pete: No matter where we are that is just wrong.

 

King: But it’s legal.

 

Mak drops the chair and doubles over leaving an opening for JJ Johnson who goes for his impaler DDT on to the steel chair…and hits it. Mak is dropped on to the chair head first, but lucky enough for the “The Franchise” there was no weird neck angles it was a pretty straightforward elevated DDT. Zyon tries to make it back to his feet, but Johnson stomps that dream away by giving Zyon a swift kick to the face. The submission specialist then decides to show some CANADIAN RAGE ~ by placing Zyon into a picture perfect sharpshooter.

 

Pete: Even though I may dislike JJ Johnson I love the Sharpshooter and this man has earned my respect by taking the time to perfect it unlike others who use it.

 

King: I smell what you’re cooking.

 

Johnson tightens the hold be rearing backward and putting all his weight and leverage into the back of the “Unique Youth.” Zyon’s bloodstains the ground as he reaches for anything and everything. The on hand tour can only watch in horror as the SWF veteran JJ Johnson decided to punish the relatively new Zyon. In the background though “The Franchise” is seen rising to his feet dented steel chair in hand.

 

King: JJ…

 

Pete: He can’t here you.

 

Mak sneaks up on the Canadian and swings the chair backward and then drives it forward…almost DECAPITATING JJ Johnson in the process. Johnson releases the hold and falls to the ground leaving Zyon to feel the after effect of the famous Canadian submission. Francis however doesn’t let Zyon’s pain linger for long as “The Franchise” steps over Zyon and places a chair shot to the injured stomach of Zyon.

 

“OHHHHH”

 

The fans react to the shot and get ready to react again, but Mak decides to put the chair down and look for the key to victory…a freakin tree.

 

Pete: Mak has the decency to not beat this kid to death.

 

King: No he probably thinks the chair has taken enough damage.

 

Mak continues his search across Acropolis Hill, as his two opponents lie motionless in a puddle of their own blood. Mak finds one of the more important temples of “Sacred Rock”, that being The Temple of Athena Nike. Like the other temples this one is held up by columns and inside are reliefs and other forms of art. Mak stops at the entrance of the temple and looks back. All he sees is a group of spectators and dust in the wind. Mak smiles from under his bloody face and even the bad attitude Mak Francis can only be glad that he MIGHT just be able to find that damn tree. The SWF following won’t have to wait long as the temple is of the smaller origin and right as you walk in is basically the center. “The Franchise” enters the temple and quickly checks the dark corners and painted walls for any sign of what could be a tree in the need of some planting, but “The Franchise” is left without a chance of victory as the mysterious olive tree is nowhere in sight.

 

King: Oh Mak has to be pissed, since I’m getting a little aggravated at where this olive tree could be.

 

Pete: I find it rather interesting.

 

King: Well YOU would.

 

Mak goes to leave, but before he can in the exit is JJ Johnson who is ready to take “The Franchise” on once again. Mak shakes his head and finds it in good fortune that there is somebody for him to take his anger out on. Mak chases after Johnson who is just standing in a shoot wrestling position ready for whatever Mak wants to dish out. Mak’s eyes glow with intense rage and anger as he lets his arm fly with a clothesline that should be illegal in seven countries. JJ Johnson is able to duck and without a moment’s hesitation…

 

KATA-HAJIME!!!!

 

Pete: Oh this is bad for “The Franchise.”

 

King: This move could easily knock Mak out, and considering the pain that Mak has gone through already I wouldn’t give him much time.

 

The Suicide King is right, but time is not what Mak needs. What Mak needs is a way out and lucky for him he is surrounded by nothing, but a way out. JJ Johnson tightens the hold and looks to take Mak down to the ground, but “The Franchise” stays strong and with one gutsy effort Mak leaps backward slamming JJ Johnson into a temple wall causing dirt and stone to fall from the ceiling. Johnson’s grip loosens enough for Mak to regain his composure and drops JJ Johnson with a quick side slam.

 

Pete: For those at home you must try to understand that the simplest slams and drops are hurting these men more than normal cause of the environment they are in.

 

King: Ugh…yeah.

 

Mak somehow rises to his feet ad exits the temple and is able to spot Zyon heading toward Asklepion Shrine.

 

King: Please, I admit it I haven’t heard a single word from this Zyon and I hate him.

 

Pete: And…

 

King: But please let him or anybody else find this damn plant.

 

Zyon continues his journey toward the shrine that is said to be a sanctuary for some sort of healing god…and boy do these men needs some healing. While Mak chases Zyon, a camera shows JJ Johnson rise back to his feet and it seems the three combatants are going to end up in the same area. Back at the shrine, which really is a glorified cave is Zyon who enters the shrine that is covered in pictures of what could only be described as the popular vision of god. Inside the shrine is yet another treasure chess and this time Zyon is a little hesitant since all he needs now is a Toxxic figurine. Zyon’s stalling causes him damage though as Mak charges in and shoulder tackles Zyon from behind causing the youngsters neck to snap back as he goes flying into a wall knocking down pictures as he falls to the ground. Mak then opens the chess and reaches inside only to pull out…

 

A figurine…

 

A picture of Tom Cruise…

 

A light bulb…

 

None of those, actually it is the olive tree that everyone has been searching for.

 

King: Oh there is a god…

 

Pete: King do you realize what you just said.

 

King: Yes, I said Oh there is a go…oh ooopps.

 

Lucky for Suicide King the fans are too into the match to hear him. Mak grips the tree with his life and quickly exits the shrine. “The Franchise” makes his way toward the Erechtheion where the match is going to end one way or another. Mak is definitely paranoid at this point as he looks from side to side waiting for JJ Johnson to just pop out and steal his glory. However, the only people following Mak are the elderly on tour…well all of them, but the one that is still waiting from somebody to give her cane back. “The Franchise” continues his journey across the Acropolis before coming to a stop to admire the temple where he shall capture the hardcore title.

 

CRACK!!!

 

Of course though this will not be an easy task. Mak’s paranoia was for good reason as JJ Johnson appears and cracks Mak in the back with a kendo stick. “The Franchise” though refuses to let go of the olive tree and for this almost meet another kendo shot, but Zyon finds his way to the temple and stuns the former UFC fighter with a forearm. Zyon then blindly goes for a back kick, but “The Franchise” catches the youth’s foot, but also drops the tree!

 

Pete: Mak just made a BIG mistake.

 

King: Ah his new attitude alone can get that tree back let alone his skill.

 

Pete: That made absolutely no sense.

 

Zyon tries to pull his foot away from Mak…and does, but only to then be knighted by a perfect kendo stick shot….

 

“OWWWW!!!”

 

The fans respond to the shot as does King…

 

King: DAMN!

 

Zyon falls backward and into Mak who simply pushes the hardcore champ out of his way as the youth floats down to the ground. Mak continues his stride toward a fatigued Johnson who goes to swing the kendo stick, but “The Franchise” kicks JJ Johnson in the gut and goes for the “FRANCHISE TAG!!”

 

Pete: This could finish it as far as JJ Johnson goes.

 

King: Lets hope his intent isn’t too injure Johnson who has basically just came back.

 

Well no worries since before Mak can hook the leg JJ Johnson goes to counter with an arm bar, but Mak quickly pulls away and the two men are at a stand off. “The Franchise” and his new attitude glances at the tree still lying on the ground and then signals for Johnson to “Bring it on.”

 

Pete: Mak showing off his new persona.

 

King: Yep…and I love it!

 

Johnson walks up to Mak…and goes for a right hand, but Mak blocks it and goes for one of his own…

 

VINEGAR MIST~ ~ ~ !!!!

 

Pete: Hey how did he do that?

 

King: No clue, only him and “Maniac” Bryan Rodgers has that technique down.

 

King and Pete are both in confusion as “The Franchise” is blinded by not only arrogance, but by the mist. Johnson then leaps into the air and knocks Mak for a loop with a spinning roundhouse kick. Francis falls to the ground clutching his face, mostly his eyes region as Johnson looks for the olive tree, but Zyon has now made it to his feet…

 

“Let’s Go Zyon”

 

The hordes of fans back at the stadium cheer the youth on. JJ Johnson makes his way toward his opponent and looks for a right hand, but Zyon just takes it and finds a way to throw Johnson into the temple face first. JJ Johnson bounces off the Erechtheion and into Zyon who delivers a kick to Johnson and goes for his patented “Final Hour” cradle piledriver!!!!

 

Pete: This could give Zyon ample enough time to find and plant the olive tree.

 

King: I can’t believe we are basically marking out for an olive tree.

 

Zyon attempts to lift the former UFC fighter, but JJ Johnson counters by sweeping Zyon’s legs from out of under him and then goes for a sharpshooter, but Mak Francis walks up to JJ Johnson and hooks him into the “FRANCHISE TAG!!” This time Johnson isn’t able to escape and is stricken down with the finisher landing in a nasty fashion on the ground covered in rock and dry clay!!

 

Pete: Oh that was just INSANE!

 

King: Yeah I think JJ Johnson needs medical attention…

 

“RAAAAA”

 

Mak Francis rises to his feet as JJ Johnson is just limp on the ground as “The Franchise” looks around for Zyon and spots him…digging a hole with his hands!!! Mak though also sees the olive tree right in front of him.

 

Pete: What is Zyon doing?

 

Pete wonders, as does Mak who makes his way towards Zyon and gets a hand full of dirt into his eyes!

 

King: What!!!

 

Zyon then kicks “The Franchise” in the gut and looks to be going for the “Final Hour”, but instead Zyon locks “The Franchise” in a headlock and…

 

EVENFLOW DDT!!!

 

R.I.P Andrew Rickmen!!

 

“YEAAAAAHHHH!!!”

 

The SWF fans go insane at the show of respect for an SWF fallen as Zyon grabs the olive tree away from the unconscious Mak Francis and puts into the ground and then molds the dirt around the plant!!!!

 

Pete: He does it again!!!

 

King: Ok forget it there is no god, and I don’t give a fuck about what these people think.

 

Zyon falls back on to the ground and spreads his arms out enjoying the victory and waiting for the medical attention as Funyon makes the announcement back at the stadium…

 

Funyon: The winner and STILL SWF Hardcore Champion and Patron Wrestler of Athens…Z~Y~O~N!!!

 

“Vitamin” blares across stadium as the fans rise on their feet and clap and cheer at what they just saw. Another SWF hardcore classic that literally went all over Athens and in the only way the SWF knows how this match could be a tribute to the fallen Insane Luchador.

 

There is more to come…

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The camera cuts to a shot of the backstage area, in particular a hallway that El Luchadore Magnifico happens to be walking down. Moving swiftly, he turns a corner...

 

And comes face to face with Tom Flesher.

 

Surprised, ELM stops dead in his tracks and stares at Flesher, not quite sure what to do in this situation. Tom stares deep into Magnifico’s eyes, his face expressionless. The intensely awkward silence lasts for nearly a minute until Flesher finally speaks.

 

“So.” Tom begins, not breaking his gaze. “You’re finally back.”

 

Magnifico tenses up a bit, but tries not to let it show.

 

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Flesher continues, not giving ELM a chance to respond. “Even though you left in about the most cowardly way possible, I always thought in the back of my mind that you’d come back eventually.

 

“Hey, listen-“ Magnifico begins, but he’s immediately cut off as Tom takes a step forward and gets right in the luchadore’s face.

 

“Quiet.” Tom snaps, his stare growing colder and more intimidating by the second. To his credit, ELM stands his ground, refusing to be intimidated by his former rival.

 

“I’ll stay out of your way for now, so long as you do the same for me.” Flesher says. “Agreed?”

 

ELM raises an eyebrow. “Agreed.”

 

“Fine then.” Tom starts to pass Magnifico, then stops, with his face right near the luchadore’s ear.

 

“It’s only because of the shred of respect I have left for you,” Flesher whispers, “That I’m not going to make it my mission to cause your time here to be completely unbearable.”

 

Before Magnifico can react, Tom’s already on his way, as though he didn’t say anything at all. ELM looks after him for a second, his face grim, before continuing on his way.

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“…so then, Sarah said-”

 

“Pete?”

 

“-and Munich-”

 

Pete?

 

“…what?”

 

“Feed’s back.”

 

“…”

 

“…WELCOME BACK TO SWF LOCKDOWN!!”

 

The cameras pan around the SOLD OUT~ Panathinaiko Stadium in Greece, where 80,000 or so mad European wrestling fans have crowded in to witness the once-in-a-lifetime exhibition of athletic competition and passion that is the SWF on tour.

 

“Coming up next - Diva Pilowfighting!” King declares.

 

“King, shut it,” Longdogger Pete advises his commentary partner. “No fans, in fact what we have next is far more exciting as we will see Toxxic take on an unnamed opponent!”

 

“…so either Va’aiga, Charlie Matthews or John Duran.”

 

“Nooo,” Pete says with strained patience, “we will see him fight an opponent who has yet to be announced. Need I remind you that only last week on Storm, Wildchild’s mystery opponents turned out to be none other than SWF legend, El Luchadore Magnifico?”

 

“Please, I’ve been trying to forget…”

 

Before the bickering can continue the enormous Smarktron screen at one end of the stadium whites out and the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire rolls out into the midsummer Greek air. The screen quickly fades down to black, and as it does so jagged white letters flash up an all-too-familiar slogan:

 

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’

 

As the jagged guitar riff starts, images of Toxxic’s career begin to flash up, one after another. We see the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, highlights of the All-Show Brawl with Insane Luchador and the Super Intoxxication on Tom Flesher that won him his first World Title before the screen changes once more to show Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the ENORMOUS eruption of red pyro-

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

-that signifies the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! For a moment all that can be seen is smoke, and then a wiry figure bursts through and TEARS down the ramp towards the ring at top speed! Toxxic might not be quite on a par with Olympic sprinters but he still manages to cover the ramp pretty speedily, before diving under the bottom rope and sliding into the ring and then popping back up to his feet in front of the startled Matthew Kivell!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The fans in attendance have only just caught their breath in time to show their disapproval, but Toxxic takes up station in the middle of the ring and throws his arms wide, palms flat downwards…

 

*BOOOM!!*[/b][/b]

 

…to ignite four more blasts of red pyro, one from the top of each ringpost, as the first verse comes in.

 

‘I never thought this could be me

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

Like all the fun turns into shame

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

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon declares, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall - introducing first, in the ring; from Nottingham, England, he weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is a three-time SWF World Heavyweight Champion; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

Toxxic strips off his England soccer shirt and passes it over the ropes to the timekeeper before performing a couple of quick stretches and then hopping up onto the top buckle to sit and wait for his opponent.

 

“He is indeed a three-time World Champion,” Pete confirms, “and next Monday on Smarkdown he will be going one-on-one with Danny Williams in the first ever match between two three-time World Champions!”

 

“Of course, now Magnifico is back there’s a third member of that elite club on the roster,” King remarks. “So I suppose,” the Gambling Man continues, “Toxxic will just have to beat him as well!”

 

As ‘Rookie’ fades out all eyes turn expectantly towards the entrance ramp. For a few moments there is silence…

 

 

 

…and then the stirring opening notes of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony!

 

“What?” Pete says, as the crowd instinctively starts to boo. “Revolution Zero is disbanded! Why is Toxxic bringing Pretzler out here to be at ringside?”

 

“Uh, Pete?” King says in a concerned tone, “Toxxic doesn’t know anything about this. Look.”

 

Indeed the Straight-Edge Sensation’s face is a picture of pure puzzlement. Puzzlement that is rapidly crystalising into a rather nasty certainty…

 

“…and his opponent,” Funyon booms, confirming it for everyone in attendance as a familiar blonde figure appears, “from Toronto, Ontario Canada; he weighs in tonight at 226lbs… ‘The Critic’, SCOOOOTTTTTTTTT… PRRRRRRREEETTTZZZ-LEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR!!”

 

“Tom, Tom, what are you doing?” King says in horror as The Critic begins to make his way down the entrance ramp, rather slower than his former leader. “I know you don’t like Toxxic, but did you have to throw Pretzler against him?”

 

“Well, this should be a very interesting match!” Longdogger Pete declares with nothing like the same degree of apprehension. “Two former stablemates squaring off, and two rather large egos clashing! This is Toxxic’s chance to prove why he was the leader, and Pretzler’s chance to prove that he belongs in the main event!”

 

Toxxic has dismounted from his perch and is leaning over the top rope as Pretzler approaches the ring. The Critic has a faintly apologetic expression on his face as he mounts the steps but that doesn’t stop Toxxic from starting to address him immediately. The ring mics can only pick the words up faintly, but the body language fills in the gaps for the viewers at home…

 

’What the bloody hell is this?’

 

‘Well, I did try to tell you earlier-’

 

‘This wasn’t your idea?’

 

‘No, most certainly not.’

 

‘Well… alright then. Let’s give ’em what they came to see.’

 

With the opening words out of the way Toxxic backs off and lets Scott Pretzler prepare himself. The Critic performs a few pre-match stretches of his own, then signals to Matthew Kivell that he is ready to begin. The referee calls both men together and briefly runs down the rules before calling for a handshake - which he gets - and then signals for the bell!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“These two men have only been in the ring as opponents once before,” Pete notes, “and that was in a Fatal Four-Way match also featuring Wildchild and Todd Cortez. They worked as a team on that night and the display of ‘wrestling’ they put on against each other was something of a joke - but it’s worth noting that Pretzler picked up the win by making Wildchild give up to the Snowflake Clutch!”

 

“Only because Toxxic was busy running interference against Cortez,” King argues. “He let Pretzler win that one - in fact, he helped him to do so.”

 

“Do you think he’ll do the same here?” Pete asks mischievously.

 

The early indications are ‘no’; Toxxic is keeping his distance from the Critic, who is obviously seeking to close with his former leader and take the match to the mat. Meanwhile the Straight-Edge Sensation circles the Canadian warily, looking for an opening. Toxxic seems to see some flaw in Pretzler’s positioning or balance because he suddenly darts in, feints, then dives through his opponent’s legs in a baseball slide and pops up behind Scott. Pretzler is caught off-balance for a moment and Toxxic wastes no time in jumping up, hooking his legs under Pretzler’s arms and rolling backwards for a Prawn Hold!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Pretzler kicks out moments after Matty Kivell’s hand finds the mat for a second time, and Toxxic instantly scrambles away before his more technically-minded friend can take advantage of their proximity.

 

“Toxxic’s ribs and back don’t seem to be displaying any notable signs of damage, even after the Ratings Grabber that put him through the announce table only ten days ago,” Pete notes. “I’d have thought the bridge on that pin might have caused him a twinge or two, but we’ll have to see how he fares as this match develops.”

 

“Tom certainly knew what he wanted to achieve,” King notes with some dismay. “The Snowflake Clutch puts pressure on the back as well as the neck, and Pretzler is a genius at working over the necessary body parts.”

 

Scott Pretzler is back on his feet and eyeing his former leader warily, well aware that a flash pin could end this match very quickly. He starts to advance on Toxxic but the British punk dances away, making sure that Scott doesn’t get any closer than he wants him to. After a few seconds of this the Straight-Edge Sensation apparently sees another opening as he darts in again. Pretzler starts to stoop, ready to catch Toxxic on a baseball slide attempt but this time the straight-edger leapfrogs the Canadian, then lands on his feet and turns back to hook Pretzler’s left arm with his own, then swings his feet up to latch onto the right arm before bringing his former stablemate over with a Crucifix pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Pretzler kicks out again! This time the Critic is in a much easier position to try and catch a handhold on his elusive opponent the moment the pin is broken, but as he lunges towards the mat-bound Toxxic the Straight-Edge Sensation swings his legs up and latches on a headscissors. Pretzler tries to manoeuvre his opponent into a position where both his shoulders are on the mat…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Toxxic bridges up onto his head, then uses his arms to twists his upper body around so he can try and take Pretzler over with a twisting headscissors. However, the Critic has other ideas and he fires a kick into Toxxic’s ribs - not full-power, just enough to dissuade his opponent - and then, as the straight-edger slumps slightly Pretzler takes a good hold on each leg and wrenches upwards. Toxxic comes away from the mat fairly easily and the Critic hoists him further, readying for his signature snap powerbomb… but Toxxic reacts quicker and dives backwards to take Pretzler over with a hurricanrana!

 

“Toxxic seems to be getting the better of this opening exchange,” Pete remarks, “but can he hold up the pace? Both men had gruelling matches at 13th Hour but I’d still say that Scott Pretzler’s stamina is slightly superior over the long haul.”

 

“I’d certainly agree,” King muses. “The longer this match goes, the better Pretzler’s chances are. If he can frustrate Toxxic then he might be able to goad him into doing something too risky, at which point he can capitalise. On the other hand, Toxxic’s flashier offence might be able to put Pretzler away before The Critic’s low-risk low-payoff gameplan can fully come into effect.”

 

“You know King, you’re actually not a bad colour man,” Pete says as Pretzler rolls over onto his front, “on occasion at least.”

 

“It’s amazing how things change when I actually like both wrestlers involved.”

 

The disorientating effect of the rana seems to have momentarily confused Scott Pretzler, and it is presumably this that allows Toxxic to approach from the side and dive across his former stablemate’s shoulders with an Oklahoma Roll…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Pretzler kicks out again! Undaunted, Toxxic grabs his opponent the moment Pretzler begins to leave the canvas, then rolls backwards into a small package…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and once more, Scott Pretzler manages to break the pin before the count of three. Toxxic slaps the mat once in mild frustration and reaches out for his opponent again - but Scott Pretzler seizes the outstretched limb and immediately drops down into a Fujiwara armbar! Toxxic yells in pain but the Critic is too close to the ropes and the Straight-Edge Sensation begins to shuffle his feet around, seeking to hook a toe into the cables and cause Kivell to call for the break. It takes a few seconds…

 

“King, do you think Scott Pretzler is applying that armbar with everything he has?” Pete asks uncertainly as Toxxic edges towards safety…

 

…and Toxxic manages to get to the ropes, meaning that Matthew Kivell calls for the break. The referee doesn’t even have to begin his count as Pretzler releases immediately and gets to his feet, followed a second later by Toxxic.

 

“I’m not sure,” the Gambling Man admits. “He certainly seemed ready to powerbomb Toxxic hard enough, but perhaps it’s different when you’re trying to break the arm of a friend.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘perhaps’?” Pete demands.

 

“I am free from all moral hang-ups,” King replies loftily. “If you were my friend and you were between me and a win, I’d shoot you.”

 

“If I ever become your friend, please do shoot me,” Pete mutters.

 

However, while King and LDP have been coming over all lovey-dovey Scott Pretzler has become determined to take the initiative. The Critic darts forward, catching Toxxic by surprise, and makes a double-leg takedown that dumps the Brit on his back. Toxxic instinctively reaches for the ropes again but Pretzler hauls him backwards until the cables are beyond his opponent’s reach, then drops the legs and dives on top of his former leader to apply a side headlock. Toxxic doesn’t want to give the Critic a chance to wear him down so he swings his legs up and manages to lock another headscissors on, then literally pulls Pretzler off him until the Canadian is on all fours with his head trapped between Toxxic’s knees. Scott starts attempting to bridge forwards but Toxxic reaches out with both hands and-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-hits Pretzler’s back with his open palms, knocking the Critic back down to all fours and leaving a stinging sensation to dissuade him from trying that again. The Canadian has another plan though, and hooks both his arms behind Toxxic’s knees before rolling to one side and forcing Toxxic over onto his front. The Straight-Edge Sensation’s legs can’t keep hold of his opponent’s head at this angle and Pretzler is able to slip out whilst maintaining what has now become a controlling grip on Toxxic’s legs. The Critic manoeuvres forwards until he has one knee on the Brit’s back, then releases the legs to grab a chinlock which he wrenches back on, keeping his knee digging into Toxxic’s spine as he does so.

 

“Two differing approaches in the early stages of this match,” Pete notes. “Toxxic tried to put his former stablemate down quickly with pinning combinations, while Scott Pretzler appears to be opting for a weardown approach. However, while this match is certainly competitive I still don’t think either man is giving it their all yet.”

 

Kivell checks on Toxxic but the Straight-Edge Sensation is certainly not going to give up to a rear chinlock, no matter how many knees are in his back. Pretzler tugs gamely away but although the hold is clearly painful he isn’t getting anywhere fast, so the Critic removes his knee and starts to pull Toxxic up, still positioned behind his opponent. Once the Brit is on his knees Pretzler suddenly chickenwings Toxxic’s right arm and reaches around with his left, looking for the chickenwing crossface that is a setup to the Snowflake Clutch, but Toxxic fires his left elbow into Pretzler’s temple to prevent the Canadian from completing the move. The straight-edger then pops up to his feet and tries to disentangle his right arm, but although he manages to extricate himself from the chickenwing in Pretzler’s split-second of disorientation the Critic grabs Toxxic’s wrist before it escapes him, then twists into an armwringer. Toxxic rolls through and comes up to his feet attempting to continue his movement and apply an armwringer of his own but Pretzler blocks it, then twists Toxxic’s arm the other way to block that method of escape again.

 

(“LET’S GO PRETZ-LER…”)

 

The chant is faint, but at least some of the Greek crowd are capable of appreciating a good athletic display when they see it. Scott Pretzler looks momentarily appalled that these greasy Europeans would dare sully his name, but he does have to admit that it has a good ring to it… however, Toxxic isn’t willing to be outdone by his former stablemate and as Scott clutches tightly to his reverse armwringer the three-time former World Champion runs for the ropes and jumps up to land in a seated position, then uses the tension in them to backflip off and land on his feet having nullified Pretzler’s hold. Before Pretzler can even register what has happened Toxxic pulls him close and then snaps him over with an armdrag!

 

(“LET’S GO TOXX-IC…”)

 

Scott Pretzler takes a moment to get back to his feet, but when he does so he sees Toxxic heading towards him having already rebounded off the ropes. Quite what the straight-edger has in mind remains unclear however, as Pretzler manages to respond in kind and takes his former leader over with a crisp armdrag of his own!

 

(“LET’S GO PRETZ-LER…”)

 

Not wishing stay on his back for longer than he needs to Toxxic curls his legs up under his chin and then kips up explosively, to a small pop from the crowd. Pretzler instinctively starts to duck, anticipating the enzuigiri that normally follows… but Toxxic doesn’t seem inclined to kick his former stablemate in the head just yet, and instead applies a side headlock to the slightly stooped Canadian. Pretzler is in no mood to have his own ‘wear-down’ strategy applied to him however, and he fires off a couple of forearms into Toxxic’s ribs before the straight-edger can get too comfortable. The impact jolts Toxxic’s grip loose a bit, and Pretzler takes the opportunity to shove Toxxic off into the ropes. The Straight-Edge Sensation rebounds and Scott Pretzler waits for him, then scoops him up…

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

…and drops him across one knee with a pendulum backbreaker! Toxxic cries out in pain and Pretzler seems to pause momentarily, perhaps at the realisation of what his instinctive reaction has done, but then he drops down to make a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

…Toxxic manages to fire a shoulder off the canvas but the Brit is clearly not that comfortable in the aftermath of Pretzler’s move. Scott still seems slightly hesitant, but then the Canadian shrugs and picks Toxxic up off the mat before grabbing his arm and Irish-whipping him into the turnbuckles. However, if Pretzler was hoping to damage Toxxic’s back further with an impact into the steel ringpost then he is disappointed as the Straight-Edge Sensation manages to vault to the top rope instead, then comes flying back with the diving clothesline known as the Role Reversal!

 

*BANG!*

 

Toxxic doesn’t kip up to his feet this time, instead opting to roll over onto his front and push himself up that way before heading for the ropes and stepping out to the apron. Pretzler takes a couple of seconds more to cough some air back into his lungs and then starts to rise, but as he turns around on the spot looking for his opponent Toxxic is already springing into action… literally, as the Straight-Edge Sensation springboards himself into the ring to take the Critic back down with a flipping neckbreaker from the apron!

 

(“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”)

 

The landing seems to cause Toxxic some pain, and it is perhaps this that causes him to delay momentarily before rolling on top of Pretzler for the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Pretzler kicks out moments after Matthew Kivell gets to two. Toxxic takes his former stablemate by the head and pulls him to his feet, then scoops the Critic up before slamming him down and heading for the turnbuckles.

 

“That’s also odd,” Pete comments. “Normally you’d expect Toxxic to use one of his more innovative takedowns in that position, but instead he used a simple scoop slam. I have to say, I’m expecting this match to go to the man who starts actively trying to hurt his opponent…”

 

Toxxic is already climbing to the top rope - not quite as sprightly as usual as he holds his back - then looks down at the winded Pretzler. The Straight-Edge Sensation pauses for a moment as if having second thoughts, but then seems to gather himself and jumps off, somersaulting forwards to land a leg across the Critic’s throat with the Hangover!

 

*BANG!*

 

“So was Toxxic worried about Pretzler’s well-being,” King asks as Toxxic grabs his spine again from the jarring landing, “or just his own back?”

 

Toxxic certainly seems willing to take whatever opportunity for a win comes his way, as the Straight-Edge Sensation has now recovered enough to make another cover on the Critic…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Scott Pretzler kicks out again, although a shade slower this time. Sighing, Toxxic starts to stand and begins to haul Pretzler up with him, then bends the Critic over and places him into a standing headscissors before applying the double underhook…

 

“We could be about to see the Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” Pete shouts, “and this could end it right here!”

 

Scott Pretzler has other ideas though, as the Critic is fighting the move for all he’s worth. Toxxic struggles but he can’t lock the underhook in properly and Pretzler first manages to free one arm, then the other, and then grabs his former leader behind the knees and pulls with all his might to topple the straight-edger backwards to the mat! Toxxic cries out in pain again as he lands on his back, but Pretzler isn’t finished yet as he tightens his grip on the Brit’s legs, then begins to turn over into a Boston Crab!

 

(“LET’S GO PRETZ-LER…”)

 

Toxxic definitely doesn’t want to be in this position, and the Straight-Edge Sensation scrabbles on the canvas in an attempt to get to the ropes as fast as possible. Pretzler manages to turn his opponent completely over and lock the hold in, but now Toxxic is only eight inches from the ropes…

 

 

…six inches…

 

 

…three inches…

 

 

“He’s got them!” Pete shouts. “Toxxic has made the ropes, but what damage has been done to his back?”

 

Pretzler releases his grip at the urgings of Kivell, then turns to regard his pained former leader. The Critic doesn’t seem willing to let his advantage slide away and drops an elbow towards Toxxic’s ribs-

 

*BANG!*

 

-but Toxxic rolls sideways underneath the ropes and out to the apron, causing Pretzler to miss! The Canadian pushes himself back up and reaches for his elusive opponent but Toxxic rams his shoulder through the ropes into Pretzler’s gut, then as the winded Critic doubles over he seizes the top rope in both hands and slingshots himself in over the top to take Pretzler over with a sunset flip!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Pretzler kicks out again. Toxxic struggles to his feet, his back clearly giving him some problems, but he is still able to grab Pretzler’s right wrist and Irish whip his opponent into the ropes. The Canadian rebounds, only to see Toxxic launching himself feet-first at his shins-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and Pretzler tumbles head-over-heels as Toxxic’s soccer tackle finds its mark! The Canadian gets back to his feet quickly but he is now limping quite badly, and it the work of a moment for Toxxic to bury his boot in Pretzler’s midsection and then apply the double underhook…

 

“Here we go again!” Pete shouts.

 

…Pretzler fights it, but this time Toxxic is able to hang onto his grip despite the Critic’s struggles and manages to lift his former stablemate UP…

 

 

…AROUND…

 

 

…AND…

 

 

…DOWN!

 

*BANG!!*

 

“Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” Pete yells as the swinging, sit-out Pedigree-like move connects, “and that could be all she wrote!” However, the lift has evidently strained Toxxic’s back and it takes a couple of seconds for the Straight-Edge Sensation to be able to roll Pretzler over onto his back to make a pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

-but Pretzler just manages to squeeze a shoulder off the canvas before Kivell finds the mat for the third time! Toxxic looks rather dubiously at the official but seems to accept Kivell’s ruling, then grabs Pretzler and begins to haul his old stablemate off the canvas, clearly looking for something to put this match beyond doubt. Without wasting any more time the Straight-Edge Sensation applies a ¾ headlock to his opponent and then sets off towards the nearest turnbuckles… but Pretzler manages to shove Toxxic off, breaking the hold and sending the Brit careering chest-first into the corner to counter the Intoxxication!

 

*THUD!*

 

Toxxic staggers back with the breath knocked from his body and Pretzler instinctively ducks his head to tuck it under Toxxic’s left armpit, then wraps his arms around the straight-edger’s waist and bridges backwards to drive his opponent into the mat with a backdrop!

 

*BANG!*

 

“Pretzler making sure that Toxxic landed on his back rather than his neck there,” Pete comments, “perhaps not wanting to accidentally hurt his former leader too much?”

 

“Or he could just be focusing on what we’ve already established is a weak point,” King counters as Toxxic rolls away from the groggy Canadian, clutching his spine, “let’s not establish Pretzler as too much of a sissy here.”

 

Scott Pretzler is still clearly seeing stars from the Toxxic Shock Syndrome and isn’t quick to take advantage of his last move; however, Toxxic’s back and ribs are not in a good way after the double-whammy of turnbuckles and backdrop and the Brit is not making very fast progress either. Therefore it takes a few seconds before either man makes much of a move, and when it comes to it Pretzler is the one who gets to his feet first. The Critic drags Toxxic up to his feet, then applies his own double underhook to his opponent… but instead of stealing the Straight-Edge Sensation’s move, Pretzler instead simply hoists the Brit overhead before bringing him down with a butterfly suplex.

 

*WHAM!*

 

Almost before Toxxic has finished bouncing off the canvas, Pretzler makes his cover and hooks the leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Toxxic kicks out, unwilling to go down just yet! Scott Pretzler doesn’t waste any time on arguing with Matthew Kivell, instead pulling Toxxic to his feet once more and threading the Brit’s arm through his own legs before hooking the other and lifting Toxxic off the ground, then dumping him back down over one knee with a pumphandle backbreaker! The straight-edger cries out in pain and Pretzler drops down to make another cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHRRRR-

-but Toxxic still kicks out, to the visible frustration of the Critic!

 

“Scott Pretzler still working on the back of Toxxic,” Pete points out as the Canadian pauses for a moment to query Kivell’s judgement.

 

“And we could be about to see the fruition of it,” King adds, “because it looks like he’s going for the Snowflake Clutch!”

 

Sure enough, Pretzler has moved Toxxic into a sitting position and is attempting to grab Toxxic’s arms and cross them in front of his chest in preparation for the feared submission move, but the Brit is fighting for all he’s worth and Pretzler can’t quite get the grip he needs. Frustrated, Pretzler leans forward to try and get a better grip… and Toxxic abruptly throws himself back as far as he can and brings his right knee up straight into Pretzler’s forehead, knocking the Critic backwards and causing him to break his hold!

 

(“LET’S GO TOXX-IC…”)

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation scrambles away as fast as he can, but his mobility is clearly somewhat limited by the damage his back has taken and he can only struggle to his feet as he reaches the ropes. Pretzler is still clutching his head so Toxxic decides to take a chance and rushes his opponent-

 

*BANG!!*

 

-but Pretzler reacts at the last moment to grab the onrushing Brit and snap backwards, taking him over onto his hurt back with a picture-perfect belly-to-belly!

 

“That could almost have been a Railgun Suplex,” Pete calls, “and one that Tom Flesher himself would have been proud of!”

 

“Any of the great technical wrestlers in the history of this company would be proud of Scott Pretzler,” Suicide King asserts, “he truly is a master of the art.”

 

“So who would be proud of Toxxic?” Pete asks with interest. “Which particular arrogant spot-monkey would consider him to be their heir apparent?”

 

“Well, Magnifico does spring to mind…”

 

Scott Pretzler appears to be considering going for another cover, but the knee to the head shook him up slightly and he realises after a second that his chance is probably gone. With that in mind the Canadian hauls Toxxic up to his feet again, then bends him over and places him in a standing headscissors.

 

“He’s going for the powerbomb!”

 

Toxxic does not want to taste the Pretzlerbomb and he tries to fight out, but his back is not up to back-bodydropping his way out of the move and Pretzler grabs the waistlock, then hoists upwards…

 

*BANG!!*

 

Pretzler, as ever, holds on for the pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

-but Toxxic just squeezes one shoulder off the mat before the third count!

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

The Greek crowd seem to have found a favourite now, rallying behind their fellow European as he kicks out of the snap powerbomb. Scott Pretzler is definitely unhappy about what he perceives as the tardyness of Matthew Kivell’s count, but the Critic isn’t going to waste too much time arguing with officials when there is a match to be won and he takes hold of Toxxic’s head to bring the Straight-Edge Sensation back up again. Once more Pretzler places his opponent in a standing headscissors and once more he hoists him up high, but this time Toxxic fires off a desperation right hand that catches the Critic square in the temple! Pretzler staggers back a step at the unexpected impact and Toxxic lands another, then a third, a fourth… Pretzler’s hands lose their grip around Toxxic’s legs as the Critic struggles to shield himself, and Toxxic sees his opportunity. With a sudden burst of energy the Brit swings his left leg off Pretzler’s shoulder and grabs a front facelock as his body changes angle, then falls backwards and tugs the Critic down with him…

 

*BANG!!*

 

“-and Toxxic counters into a DDT!” Pete shouts as Scott Pretzler finds himself driven headfirst into the mat. “Toxxic still landed on his back, but only through the force of gravity rather than Scott Pretzler’s muscles, and he could have knocked his opponent clean out there!”

 

It’s a struggle for Toxxic to move with the pain flaring in his back, but after a couple of seconds he manages to drape an arm over Scott Pretzler’s chest…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Now it is Toxxic’s turn to look disbelievingly over at Matthew Kivell, but the referee remains adamant. The exhausted straight-edger doesn’t even seem to have the energy to argue, but he manages to roll off his opponent and slowly start to push himself back to his feet. Scott Pretzler’s eyes are somewhat glassy but the Brit doesn’t intend to give his opponent any leeway, so Toxxic grabs hold of the Critic and begins to drag him to his feet as well. Toxxic grabs Pretzler’s wrist and tries to Irish whip him into the far corner but the Canadian reverses the momentum of the move and sends Toxxic in instead. Toxxic manages to avoid the full impact this time as he raises his foot and braces himself on the second buckle, but Pretzler has seen him and is already following in. The Critic extends his right arm for what might well be an enzui-lariat, ready to crush Toxxic against the buckles…

 

…but Toxxic simply drops down to one side, causing the Canadian to crash chest-first into the corner instead! As Pretzler staggers backwards, clearly winded, Toxxic rolls out to the apron and then struggles to his feet, grabs the top rope and takes a deep breath… then slingshots himself into the ring, grabbing Pretzler around the shoulders and taking him over with a flying Oklahoma Roll!

 

“He’s got him stacked up right on his neck!” Pete shouts as Kivell drops down to make the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms, “the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

Surprisingly enough, as ‘Rookie’ rings out over the Panathinaiko Stadium it is Scott Pretzler who gets back to his feet first. The Critic is holding the back of his neck, the DDT perhaps the cause of his inability to kick out of the Oklahoma Roll that put all of his bodyweight onto that one part of his body. Pretzler looks down at Toxxic, now starting to clamber up from the mat and clutching his back in pain… then extends his hand. Toxxic looks at him for a second, then reaches out his own black-nailed fingers to clasp Pretzler’s hand and the Critic hauls his former leader to his feet.

 

“Well, I doubt that Scott Pretzler is one to take losing that well,” Pete says as the two former Revolution Zero members exchange a few quiet words, “but that was a good match and Toxxic has had his mettle tested ahead of his Smarkdown collision with Danny Williams. But don’t go away, because we have plenty more action coming up after this break!”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

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FADE IN

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” proclaims Funyon, “this… is the MAIN EVENT!”

 

Suddenly, the Panathinaiko Stadium comes alive with the sounds of the Prodigy’s “Fuel My Fire.” The fans come to their feet as Wild and Dangerous make their way out to the ring, along with their partner for the evening!

 

“Big six-man tag team attraction coming up!” exclaims Longdogger Pete. “And King, all three of the men on their way to the ring tonight could use a big win!”

 

“Especially Wildchild and Li’l Buck,” adds the Suicide King. “Buck hasn’t had a big win in some time; he got a couple of title shots against Ejiro, but wasn’t able to close it out. And, of course, Wildchild is in the middle of the biggest slump of his pro-wrestling career; even against a rusty ELM last week, he wasn’t able to pick up a win!”

 

“Well King, to be fair, Wildchild had a little more to try and overcome than just being unprepared for his opponent,” replies Pete. “Let’s keep in mind that Wildchild has idolized Mags for years! It’s hard enough trying to go all-out against a opponent that you haven’t trained for, but when it’s somebody whom you consider to be a hero, how can anyone expect you to be able to do your best?”

 

King’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “He gets paid, don’t he?”

 

“Well, yes, but…”

 

“There is no but!” snaps King. “If he gets paid, then he’s a professional! He should be mentally ready to go in the ring against anybody, even if it’s his own mother!”

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

King scowls at Pete as he rubs the back of his head. “What the hell was that for?”

 

“That was in poor taste, King!” barks the Doggah. “You know that his mother was killed last year in a hurricane; that was out of bounds!”

 

“First of all,” snaps King, “the next time you put your hands on me, I’m going to put you headfirst through this table… Secondly, stop being so damned touchy; it’s a figure of speech, for god’s sake!” Wildchild, Johnny and Buck climb into the ring and pose for the crowd as they show their love for Sugarhill’s Finest and the former Tag Team Champions:

 

 

”YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

 

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” resumes Funyon. “Currently in the ring, at a total combined weight of seven hundred one pounds… first, from Lanett, Alabama, he is ‘Sugarhill’s Finest…’ Li’l Buck! And his tag team partners… WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Wildchild removes his shin guards, upon orders from referee Ronald “Red” Herrington, and then he and Johnny motion for Buck to join them in the corner to talking strategy, as their music fades out.

 

“I don’t really see this team working well together,” says King. “I mean, Buck isn’t a tag team wrestler; he has the mentality of a singles wrestler, so when he gets tagged into the ring, their team is at risk for Buck being isolated by the other team, since I’m guessing that it goes against his instincts to make a tag!”

 

“Maybe so King, but I have my doubts that Ejiro and Martial Law will be able to work all that fluidly together,” counters Pete. “I mean, Ejiro definitely has more experience in tag team wrestling than Buck, so that should give them an advantage, but I can definitely see them having chemistry problems.”

 

“Based on what?”

 

“Well, Ejiro and Landon both have alpha-type personalities,” explains LDP, “and they both want to be the guy running things; I don’t see Ejiro listening to Landon, or vice versa.”

 

The Athens fans come alive as “Save Yourself” begins to play. A series of pyrotechnic explosions light up the stage as Landon Maddix and Todd Cortez step from behind the curtain, with Megan Skye right behind them!

 

“I...CAN...NOT...SAAAVE...YOU!

 

“I! CAN'T! EVEN! SAAAVE...MYYY...SELF!”

 

“SO JUST SAAAVE YOURSELF!”

 

...

 

 

“SSSAAAAAAAAAAAAVVVVVEEE!!!”

 

“Their opponents,” says Funyon, “have a total combined weight of six hundred sixty-nine pounds! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by their manager, the First Lady of the SWF Megan Skye, here are the SWF World Tag Team Champions… Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix and ‘Urban Legend’ Todd Cortez… MARTIAL LAAAAW!” Maddix and Cortez arrive at ringside and slide underneath the bottom rope before rising to their feet and racing to opposing corners, leaping onto the turnbuckles to a mixed reaction from the fans:

 

 

MARTIAL LAW! (SUCKS!)

MARTIAL LAW! (SUCKS!)

 

 

“It sounds like the crowd’s about fifty-fifty for Martial Law here at Panathinaiko Stadium,” notes LDP. “There’s obviously a very vocal contingent of fans who don’t think very highly of them!”

 

“Probably some bitter Wild and Dangerous fans,” King says idly. “Who let them in here, anyway?” Martial Law and Megan stop short of the ring as their music fades out, while they await the arrival of their partner:

 

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPOPPOPPOP!

 

 

The fans respond much more positively to the World Champion as his machine gun-like pyro lights up the stage! The Rule comes out, brandishing the Heavyweight Championship around his waist, but with a scowl covering his face as he makes his way down to the ring.

 

“And their tag-team partner,” booms Funyon, “from Sarasota, Florida, weighing two hundred twenty-three pounds, here is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion… The RULE! EEEEEJIRO FAAAAAH-SAKI!” The Champion proceeds down the ramp at a deliberate pace and walks right past his partners as he makes his way to the ring, completely ignoring the outstretched hand of Landon Maddix.

 

“Boy, what do you think has Ejiro so bent out of shape, King?” wonders Pete. “He had an awfully stern look on his face when he came down to the ring, and totally blew his partners off, too!”

 

“Well,” replies King, “as you might have noticed, he came down to the without his sister; there must still be some friction between the two of them after that altercation backstage earlier tonight… either that, or somebody just told him how bad the ratings have been since he became champion!”

 

“That’s enough, King!” snaps Pete, as Ejiro’s music fades out. “I think you’ve exceeded your quota for smart-ass remarks tonight! Let’s just get to the action!” Red Herrington orders both teams to their respective corners, and then motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Wildchild, as usual, leads off for his team, against Landon Maddix. The two approach each other, and appear about to engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, but Wildchild pulls away at the last possible second, causing Landon to briefly lose his balance…

 

 

BAP!

 

 

… And leaving him open for a quick jab by Wildchild!

 

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

Wildchild backs Landon up against the edge of the ring, only for the Cockroach to stun him with a rake of the eyes. Landon grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but Wildchild reverses. Wildchild hooks his arm underneath Landon’s as he rebounds from the ropes to take him over in a hiptoss, but Maddix blocks. Before he can retaliate, however, Wildchild reaches up with his free hand and locks it with the other, before flipping backwards to catch his feet on the top rope, and using it as a platform to spring back into the ring, taking Landon over with a phenomenal armdrag! Maddix quickly rolls back to his feet and charges Wildchild, who hooks him underneath the arm once more, and this time gets his hiptoss to go!

 

 

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

 

 

“What an incredible reversal of fortune by Wildchild!” gushes Pete. “Landon Maddix blocked that hiptoss attempt, but Wildchild managed to… I don’t even know what to call that! I guess you could say that he countered the counter, into one of the most spectacular armdrags I’ve ever seen… and then got the hiptoss he was looking for originally!”

 

“Well, I’ll say this much for him,” concedes King, as Wildchild pulls Landon over to his corner, “there’s probably not anybody in professional wrestling who does an armdrag better than Wildchild! He’s able to get to snap his opponent over so quickly, that it’s almost more like an impact maneuver than a takedown! And here comes the quick tag to Johnny Dangerous!” Wildchild doubles Landon over and traps him in a front facelock as Johnny climbs to the top turnbuckle…

 

 

WHAM!

 

… And dives into the ring, delivering a clubbing double-axe handle blow to Landon’s back! Johnny picks Landon up into a fireman’s carry and dives forward, crushing the Cockroach against the canvas with his patented Spinal Explosion! Johnny quickly rolls back to his feet and turns to face Maddix before leaping off the canvas…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And crashing across Landon’s throat with a leaping legdrop! Johnny shifts into a lateral press as Herrington drops down to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

But Landon kicks out easily at two! Johnny pulls him to his feet and leads him into his corner, where he makes the tag to Li’l Buck!

 

“Well, so far the Li’l Buck team has been very fluent in the ring, with frequent tags,” remarks King. “Much to my surprise, I’ll admit; but now let’s see if the continuity will still be there now that Buck is in the ring!” Buck steps in and immediately goes to work on Landon, hammering his back with thunderous forearm shots! He scoops Maddix up for a slam, but the Cockroach rolls over his shoulder and lands behind him, before immediately leaping back off the canvas and catching Buck by the seat of the pants with a dropkick that sends him stumbling into the Champions’ corner! Landon scampers over to his corner and makes the tag to his partner. Cortez steps into the ring, with Ejiro close behind him as Todd takes Sugarhill’s Finest with a snapmare. Ejiro runs to the ropes as Cortez holds Buck into place and leaps into the air, dropping a knee into the side of Buck’s face! Herrington orders Ejiro out of the ring and admonishes him for illegally double-teaming, freeing Todd up to choke Buck out against the middle rope.

 

“It’s funny how the teamwork has increased noticeably since Landon tagged out,” King says idly. Todd pulls Buck away from the ropes and plants him on the canvas with a scoop slam before tagging out to Ejiro. The Rule climbs to the top turnbuckle as Cortez holds Buck steady and dives into the ring, dropping a diving elbow into the face of Sugarhill’s Finest! Fasaki pulls Buck back to his feet and leads him over to the corner, ramming him face-first into the top turnbuckle pad! The Rule leans over and makes the tag back to Cortez, and whips Buck into the ropes as Todd enters the ring. The Urban Legend charges towards the opposing ropes as Buck rebounds…

 

 

CRACK!

 

… And blasts him in the face with a tremendous superkick! Cortez hooks Buck’s leg as he applies a cover:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

Wildchild runs in before Herrington can count three, and kicks Cortez in the head to break up the pinfall! Cortez pulls Buck back to his feet and forces him into his corner as Herrington orders Wildchild back onto the apron.

 

“Wildchild managed to break up the pinfall, but he exposed his partner to some more punishment by coming into the ring,” says Pete. “That’s a cardinal mistake for a three-time former tag team champion, and totally unlike him!” Cortez turns his back to Li’l Buck to taunt Wild and Dangerous, before thrusting his arm back and blasting Buck in the face with a fierce back elbow.

 

“And notice how Ejiro and Martial Law are targeting the facial area,” says King. “Evidently, they’ve decided that the face is the weak point of Li’l Buck!” Landon yells to Todd to tag him back in, and the Urban Legend appears to blow him off, but Megan pleads with him from outside the ring until he finally relents.

 

“Well, we’ve known for some time that there’s friction between the Tag Team Champions,” says Pete, “but I can’t believe that it would come down to Todd Cortez having to be begged by his manager just to tag his partner!” Cortez tags Landon in, and the two of them whip Buck into the ropes. Landon lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop on Buck, expecting Cortez to aid him, but the Urban Legend exits to the ring apron…

 

WHAM!

 

… And Sugarhill’s Finest flattens Maddix against the canvas with a double-axe handle blow! Buck crawls over to his corner and tags in Johnny, who leaps over the top rope and pulls Landon to his feet, whipping him into the ropes, and then leveling him with an explosive clothesline! He quickly pulls Landon to his feet and tags Wildchild as he whips Maddix into the ropes. Johnny bellies out against the canvas as Landon runs over the top of him…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… And right into a dropkick by the Wildchild! The Bahama Bomber stands up as Johnny exits the ring and positions himself with his back to Maddix, as he flips into the air and crashes down on the Cockroach with a standing moonsault press! Wildchild goes for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

BUT MADDIX KICKS OUT!

 

 

“Boy, look at Cortez and Ejiro fuming out on the ring apron,” notes LDP. “They put in all that work to soften up Li’l Buck, and took control of the match, and Landon Maddix managed to lose all that momentum in only a few minutes!” Wildchild pulls Maddix back to his feet, but the Cockroach stuns him with another eye rake, and dives towards his corner to make the tag to Ejiro!

 

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAH!”

 

 

“Listen to this crowd go crazy as the Champion steps into the ring!” shouts Pete. “There’s definitely no love lost between these two!”

 

“Well, this is one of the all-time crowd favorite matchups,” says King. “Wildchild and Ejiro had one of the more intense feuds in the history of the SJL and the SWF a few years back… this is there first the two have been in the ring together in almost two years, and after what happened earlier tonight, you have to believe that the bad feelings that these two used to have towards each other have been brought back to the surface!”

 

The Athens fans stomp their feet nearly in unison, creating a thunderous din as Wildchild and Ejiro stand nose-to-nose in the center of the ring.

 

 

SMACK! WHOO!

 

Wildchild makes the first move, blasting Ejiro with a reverse knife-edge chop!

 

 

SLAP! WHOO!

 

 

Ejiro returns the favor with a stiff open-hand slap to the chest!

 

 

SMACK! WHOO!

SLAP! WHOO!

SMACK! WHOO!

SLAP! WHOO!

SMACK! WHOO!

SLAP! WHOO!

SMACK! WHOO!

SLAP! WHOO!

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

After a riveting exchange of chops, Wildchild catches Ejiro off-guard with a tremendous headbutt that drops him to his knees! Wildchild pulls Ejiro to his feet and whips him towards a neutral corner, only for Fasaki to reverse it, but the Bahama Bomber leaps up to the top turnbuckle as he approaches the corner and flips over Ejiro back into the ring! Ejiro spins back around and charges at Wildchild, but the Human Hurricane takes him off his feet with a deep armdrag! Wildchild pulls Fasaki back to his feet and whips him into the ropes, lifting him into the air as he rebounds with a back-body drop, but the Rule displays surprising agility, floating over Wildchild’s back and landing on his feet. Ejiro bellies out as Wildchild runs over the top of him and quickly gets back up, taking the Bahama Bomber off his feet as he rebounds a second time and into the Cobra Crossface!

 

“Ejiro with the Cobra Crossface!” shrieks Pete. “He could get a submission here!” But, before Wildchild can tap out, Johnny rushes in immediately to kick Ejiro away, even going so far as to drag Wildchild over to his corner!

 

“I’ll give him credit,” says King, as Herrington chastises Johnny, “that was excellent leadership on the part of Johnny Dangerous; not only did he break up a potential submission, but he got his partner out of a bad situation, and put him in an excellent position to tag!” As Herrington continues to chew Johnny out, Wildchild reaches up to tag Li’l Buck.

 

“Wildchild makes the tag to Sugarhill’s Finest,” says Pete, as Buck enters the ring. “Hey, what’s Maddix doing over there in the corner?” The camera shifts to Maddix, showing him removing the middle turnbuckle from a neutral corner. “He’s removing the turnbuckle pad, King! What’s going through that twisted little mind?” Buck backs Ejiro into the opposite corner and hammers him with punishing fists before whipping him across the ring. Buck charges across the ring to deliver a clothesline as Ejiro staggers out of the corner…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But Fasaki trips Buck with a drop toehold that sends him crashing face-first into the exposed steel turnbuckle!

 

“My God!” cries LDP. “Ejiro just sent Buck face-first into that exposed turnbuckle! I think he might have busted his face, King!” Ejiro pulls Buck to his feet and attacks Buck’s face like a shark sensing blood in the water, hammering the side of his face with a series of kneelifts! He drags Buck over to his corner, where he looks at Maddix with disdain before making the tag to Cortez. Ejiro whips Buck into the ropes and drops to one knee as he rebounds, while Cortez takes Sugarhill’s Finest over with a drop toehold…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Driving Buck’s face into Ejiro’s knee! Li’l Buck rolls onto his back, kicking his legs against the canvas in pain as he clutches his face.

 

“Phenomenal double-team by Ejiro and Todd Cortez,” says King, as Cortez delivers a fistdrop to Buck. “They continue to work on that face!”

 

“Take a look for me, King,” asks LDP, “you can see a little better than me; is Buck bleeding from the eye?”

 

“I dunno,” replies King, as Todd continues to drop fists on Buck’s head, “I’m going to need a better camera shot to tell… Oh…sh(Bleep!)t! Yeah! He’s busted open!”

 

“Buck with some blood flow coming from all around that eye,” adds Pete, “and you have to think that shot to the turnbuckle pad was the last straw!”

 

“Look at his face, MacDougal!” shrieks King. “That whole side of his face is busted open; he might have broken his eye socket!”

 

Another kneelift to the face and Buck’s head glances off Todd’s knee, sending him tumbling sideways to the mat with both hands covering his face as the Urban Legend applies a lateral press for:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!! The Gangsta of Love rolls his shoulders off the mat, bringing himself to a kneeling position. He roars out in pain as one hand gingerly covers his eye, and the other hand reaches out towards the two men waiting in his corner, half a mile away. Johnny and Wildchild both look on, stunned, as the only help they can be right now is to wait for Buck to make it to them for a tag. However, that might be awhile. Cortez grabs Sugarhill’s Finest from behind, clamping down on his skull with a side headlock.

 

“Oh man,” says Pete, cringing at the sight. “Todd Cortez has Lil’ Buck trapped in a side headlock now. Normally I wouldn’t have much to say about it, but the Urban Legend is clamping down right on Buck’s injured eye!”

 

“Which just may be the smartest plan to keep Buck down,” adds King. “This team has inadvertently created a rather odd injury on him and now they’re wisely exposing it. I can’t say I’ve ever seen an eye submission before but it just may work!”

 

Cortez continues to bear down on the side of Buck’s face as Herrington drops in, asking Sugarhill’s Finest if he’ll submit. However, despite the surging pain, Buck roars out a “NO!” in response and he starts to push himself up to a standing position! Todd tries to hold on, even as his opponent climbs to his feet making it all the harder for Cortez to keep his hold as tight. Finally, Buck sends some elbows flying back, nailing the Urban Legend in his ribs and forcing Cortez to release his hold to a thunderous cheer! Cortez staggers backwards, clutching his ribcage as the Gangsta takes off across the ring. Buck hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards the Urban Legend…

 

CRACK!

 

…and Cortez nails Buck with a lighting-quick super kick, dropping SugarHill’s Finest like a bad habit! Once again, Todd drops down and covers Buck for:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-WHAM!!! Just before three, Johnny races into the ring and kicks Cortez in the skull, knocking him off Lil’ Buck! Herrington quickly turns towards the Barracuda and barks at him to exit the ring, which he does, as Todd Cortez rolls up to his feet and tags in Landon Maddix!

 

“Smart tagging being practiced by Todd Cortez,” says Pete. “Even though he has Buck pretty worn down he wasn’t going to risk not taking the opportunity to get a fresh man into the ring. Now we have Landon Maddix stepping in for his team.”

 

Maddix cruises into the ring just as Lil’ Buck is once more on his hands and knees, desperately trying to get back up by way of the ropes, but Landon delivers a stiff kick into the Gangsta’s abdomen to knock him onto his back. Landon slaps on a quick arm wrench onto Buck and pulls him to his feet before stepping forward and whipping Sugarhill’s Finest across the ring with an Irish Whip! He chases after his gang-banging opponent and as Buck rebounds off the ropes Landon jumps up and sinks both feet into his chest with a drop kick! The impact doesn’t knock the bigger man down but instead sends him staggering backwards into the ropes. Once more Buck is propelled off the ropes, however slightly, and Maddix races in and leaps to the middle rope behind him. He springs off and turns in midair towards Buck, snatching him by the back of his head and driving his skull into the mat with a ferocious DDT!

 

WHAM!

 

“And Maddix continues to keep that pressure on Buck’s head,” says Pete. “At least this team is showing a cohesive effort to keep targeting that weak spot on our fun loving Gangsta’.”

 

“Yeah, shockingly they have,” agrees King. “I was wondering if Maddix and Fasaki could actually work together instead of both men trying to be the stars of the show at the beginning, but they’ve managed to surprise me tonight.”

 

Maddix dives onto Buck’s chest, covering him as Herrington drops to count for:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-NO!!! Buck kicks out!

 

“YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“Another second and it looks like Wildchild would have jumped in to make the save anyway,” notes Pete as Wildchild, already inside the ring, slowly backs himself back towards his corner, this time saving the referee from having to bark any warnings to him.

 

“You have to give Buck some credit here for having some real resilience. He’s taken some tremendous abuse to that eye socket of his and even then he refuses to lie down!”

 

However, if Landon has his way Buck won’t have much choice but to stay down. Maddix grabs his opponent by the sides of his head and starts dragging him up to his feet…

 

CRACK!

 

…and then BLASTS Lil’ Buck in his face with a forearm! Buck staggers a step back, swaying, but he doesn’t fall, and the fans start to heat up in support of Sugarhill’s Finest. Once more, Landon steps in and slams a forearm into the Gangsta of Love’s face, making sure that he hits right on that bloodied eye!

 

“Landon’s taking a rather odd approach to this,” notes King. “Whereas his partner’s tried to keep Buck down and wear him down by applying pressure to his eye, Landon’s trying to just knock Sugarhill’s Finest out cold!”

 

“Buck’s certainly worn down enough,” replies Pete. “He isn’t putting up any fight against Landon, even as these fans start to really rally behind Lil’ Buck!”

 

Sure enough, the chants of the crowd start to ring out loudly:

 

“LET’S GO LIL’ BUCK, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!!

“LET’S GO LIL’ BUCK, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!!

 

Maddix sneers towards the obviously ignorant fans. How could they possibly show any support towards this gun-toting, foul mouthed, tattooed gang banger when the real star of the SWF was standing in the ring! He looks back at Buck, growling ferociously, then races off across the ring, into dark territory, looking to build some serious steam against his opponent!

 

“He’d better watch out! Landon’s so steamed that he doesn’t even realize that he’s-”

 

CRACK!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

Landon hits the ropes, but what he doesn’t see is that Johnny strolled towards where he was running the ropes and slung his foot up, nailing the Cockroach in the back of the head! Maddix stumbles forward, steam-less, holding to the back of his head as Herrington scolds the Barracuda, and at the same instant Buck rockets forward and…

 

WHAAAAAAM!!!

 

…Absolutely LEVELS Landon Maddix with a running lariat, nearly taking his head off!

 

“Buck took advantage of the split-second distraction that Johnny Dangerous created and he may have just bailed the first bucket of water out of his sinking ship!” exclaims Pete, “what a massive clothesline that was!”

 

“But he’s too winded to cover Landon,” says King. After having delivered his lethal lariat on Maddix, squashing him like a cockroach, Buck drops to all fours before finally collapsing onto the mat. “It looks like Herrington is going to have to utilize the ten count.”

 

Herrington steps in between both men. He swivels his head back and forth between the two sprawled superstars, making sure that neither man is moving before starting the count.

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

And after reaching the count of two there is still no movement from either man,” says Pete. “However, the crowd is really getting fired up now and I can hear a split chant for both men at this time.”

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

“LAAAAAAAAAN-DON!”

“BUCK!”

“LAAAAAAAAAN-DON!”

“BUCK!”

“BUCK!”

“BUCK!”

“BUCK!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“Well it looks like that split chant has completely developed into a full fledged chant for Sugarhill’s Finest now,” King says.

 

“FIVE!”

 

Finally, Landon raises up in a sitting position, growling out in madness. Nearly a fraction of a second later and Buck moves as well. The Gangsta of Love shoves up to his knees, and starts reaching out towards his awaiting partners. He’s nowhere near them yet, but his desperation to tag one of them seems to really get the fans cheering and chanting for him. Buck starts to craw towards his corner…

 

“We could have a race to the corners on our hands!” exclaims Pete, “If either Buck or Landon can make the tag first they just might be able to save their team!”

 

“Well, wait a second,” says King, glancing towards Maddix. “It doesn’t look like everyone in there shares your sentiments, McDougal.”

 

Landon gets up to his feet. A little shaky at first, but he gently raps his palm against his head to shake the cobwebs before shooing off his partner’s as they beg Maddix towards them with outstretched hands. He staggers one step forward then turns back towards Buck who is already nearly to his corner, and races towards him!

 

“Landon’s starting to get a little too big for his boots,” says King. “He’s just passed up a valuable opportunity to tag one of his partners in, opting to instead go for preventing Buck from getting the tag.”

 

“If he makes it, it just may be the smartest move Landon’s made all night,” says Pete. “They’ve already isolated Buck long enough that one big move should put him away and Martial Law really doesn’t want to let Wild and Dangerous into that ring!”

 

“That’s a big if there, McDougal! Landon’s throwing his entire deck on the table with this one!”

 

Landon comes storming across the mat behind Lil’ Buck, but before he can reach SugarHill’s Finest, Buck shoves off the mat and dives towards his corner…

 

SMACK!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“WILDCHILD’S IN! WILDCHILD’S IN!” shouts Pete as Buck makes the saving tag to the Bahama Bomber! Wildchild waste no time leaping to the top rope then quickly springing off, flying through the air and slamming into Maddix with a body press! The fans roar out with an absolutely thunderous cheer, but in the Martial Law corner both Ejiro and Cortez are less than pleased. Ejiro angrily pounds his fist into the turnbuckle as Cortez kicks his foot into the bottom rope before Skye steps in to calm both men down.

 

“They don’t look too please over there,” snickers King. “Can’t say I blame them though; Maddix just had his entire decked slapped off the table by the Wildchild!”

 

Wildchild hits Landon then rolls up to his feet and heads across the ring, picking up some steam. He hits the rope and blazes back across the ring as the Cockroach staggers to his feet, only to have Wildchild leap up, wrapping his legs around Landon’s neck and arching back to send Maddix skidding across the mat with a Hurricanerana!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“Landon has gotten himself in some serious trouble here rather quickly,” Pete notes as Landon lies motionless on his back and Wildchild drops in with a lateral press. Herrington drops down and counts for:

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHAM! NO!!!!!!!! Ejiro climbs the turnbuckle and leaps off, dropping a leg across the back of Wildchild’s head with only a split-hair of a second to spare! Reaching down and grabbing hold of the Bahaman’s long braids, Fasaki pulls the Wildchild to his feet then draws back his arm to smash an elbow into-NO! Herrington quickly springs into action; stepping between the two men he barks at Rule to exit to the apron while walking him towards the corner, and with this kind of distraction you know that Johnny Dangerous isn’t just going to stand idly on the apron. The Barracuda, using his stealthy, ninja-like skills, sneaks into the ring and comes in from behind on Maddix as the Cockroach stands to a vertical base. Johnny grabs Landon by his arm and spins him around to face him…

 

“Look at this!” hollers Pete, “Johnny Dangerous is completely getting away with assaulting Landon! Kick to the gut to double Landon over and Johnny pulls him into a fireman’s carry… No! Not a fireman’s carry…it’s a EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII SLAAAAAAAAM!!!”

 

Johnny kips up to his feet most dashingly after delivering his deadly move and grabs Wildchild by his arm, dragging him to Landon and dropping his arm over Maddix’s chest.

 

“Now THAT’S how you take advantage of an opportunity!” cheers King. Herrington finally leaves Ejiro and turns around only to find the two legal men in the ring with Wildchild covering Landon. Like a seasoned Vietnam veteran, the referee dives towards the pin like he were diving to avoid a grenade blast and counts for:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! HE KICKED OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Landon Maddix just kicked out of the MI Slam!” exclaims Pete, “I think there was just too much time between the hit and when the pin took place, plus Wildchild really didn’t have a good cover on him.”

 

Cortez and Rule both wipe the sweat from their brows and start shouting encouragements to Landon, hoping to get him moving and hopefully… to actually make a tag! Wildchild gets up to his feet first. He’s a bit shaken, but he’s yet to take to great of an impact from anyone, and yet still he heads to his corner and tags the Barracuda in to a pleasant round of applause. Johnny steps through the ropes and charges into the ring, grabbing Landon by his ankle and dragging him back towards Wild and Dangerous territory.

 

“Well at least Johnny’s wise enough to keep his opponent far and away from being able to make a tag – that’s why he’s one of the best in tag team action,” King says. Pete can only nod in agreement.

 

Johnny pulls Landon up by the hair of his head, but Maddix suddenly slaps Johnny’s hand away from his hair and pokes his fingers into the Barracuda’s eye! Johnny stumbles back, covering his eye, and Landon races off across the ring, blazing past a row of two outstretched hands once more to come rocketing back towards Dangerous and…

 

CRACK!

 

…running straight into a spinning heel kick that sends him to the mat once more!

 

“Damn! He had a second there that he could have used to make a tag and he still tries to take the whole load on his back alone!” Pete irritably shouts. Johnny takes the second he has to blink his eye several times before looking down at his sprawled opponent…then glancing towards his corner…and throwing six fingers into the air! On the apron, Wildchild smiles and nods in agreement before replying by holding up six fingers of his own…and the crowd goes wild!

 

“I don’t believe I’m seeing this!” exclaims Pete, “Wild and Dangerous just gave the signal to initiate Order 66!”

 

“You’ve got to be sh(Bleep!)ting me,” King says. “This is the same move that Wild and Dangerous used to retire Todd Royal at From the Fire 04! The implications of this move is simply deadly! They could send Landon to the retirement home!”

 

“…”

 

“Actually,” continues King. “That’s the best fu(Bleep!)king idea I’ve seen all night!”

 

“I was a little surprised at your initial reaction,” replies Pete. Wildchild begins to climb the corner post as Johnny pulls Landon up and into a standing side headlock, looking to haul him up with a vertical suplex. However, as soon as Cortez and Ejiro see what Wild and Dangerous are up to they only have to quickly glance at each other once before deciding to storm the ring and put a stop to this deadly move! They race in and both club Johnny in the back, forcing him to drop Maddix to the mat and fend for himself!

 

“This is a madhouse,” Pete says. “Ronald Herrington has been working hard all night to keep the right men in the ring but right now it looks like he has completely lost control of this match!”

 

Johnny tires to fight the two men off; blasting Ejiro with a right hand he turns to dish one out to Cortez, but the Urban Legend blocks the blow and fires an elbow into the Barracuda’s mouth! Wildchild finally comes into to the aide of his partner. As Ejiro stumbles away from Johnny, having been socked in the mouth, he turns right into Wildchild diving off the turnbuckle and nailing Rule with a dropkick! Ejiro dazedly rolls up to his feet and stumbles into the ropes before the Bahaman comes racing across the ring and nailing Fasaki with a second drop kick to send him tumbling through the ropes to the outside floor! Wildchild quickly grabs onto the top rope with both hands and launches himself out of the ring and comes crashing down on Rule with a suicide planche!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”

 

Herrington slides out of the ring to check on the two men who now resemble a car wreck as Cortez leaves Johnny on all fours in the ring and makes his way back to the apron. Landon is now directly under his partner and finally, he reaches up to make the tag!

 

SMACK!

 

“Now Cortez is finally the legal man!” exclaims Pete as Todd comes back into the ring and heads towards Dangerous. “What a perfect position he has Johnny in to completely turn the tides in his teams favor and win this match.”

 

“Yeah, but did the referee even call for that tag?” King asks, “he’s not even paying attention to the action inside the ring once again.”

 

Cortez grabs Johnny by his throat and pulls him up to his feet before pulling his head into a standing head scissors!

 

“RIOT ACT PLUS! CORTEZ IS GOING FOR THE RIOT ACT PLUS!” hollers Pete as the crowd lights up! However, the referee suddenly slides back into the ring and immediately orders Cortez back to the apron, having seen no tag!

 

“WHAT!?” cries Pete, completely flabbergasted. “He’s ordering the Urban Legend out of the ring, citing that no tag had been made.”

 

“If the ref didn’t see it than it didn’t happen!” snaps King. Cortez tries to argue that he made the tag to Herrington, but he will hear none of it. “When Herrington last left the ring Cortez was in illegally and he must have assumed that he was still in there illegally!”

 

The crowd’s boos start to change into cheers as Buck slides back into the ring and rises up. He stalks behind the two arguing men, breathing bloody murder, then rushes in and blast Cortez in the back of his head as hard as he possibly can!

 

CRACK!

 

“It’s Buck! He’s come back for vengeance!”

 

Todd is knocked into the ropes, and hangs on it by his chest till the Gangsta of Love grabs him by his feet and flips Cortez the rest of the way over, and down to the thinly-padded floor! Buck steps out of the ropes and drops to the outside as Megan frantically tries to shield the Urban legend from more! Meanwhile, in the ring, Johnny heads towards his corner as Wildchild gets back on the apron and makes the tag, bringing the Bahaman back into the match once more…and after Herrington motions for the legal tag! They grab Landon by his arms and drag him to his feet before sending him barreling across the ring. He hits the ropes and rebounds aimlessly back to his opponents, who await his arrival with a super chicklet buster!

 

CRACK! CRACK!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

Landon staggers dazedly backwards, not falling on his face just yet, but looking as if he could drop at a moments notice. before he does though, Johnny swoops in from behind, ducking his head between the Cockroach’s legs and lifting him up on his shoulders. Again, the crowd roars with cheers! Wildchild races towards the corner and leaps to the top of the turnbuckle, then turns and leaps off, flying through the air towards the totem pole of Maddix-Dangerous as Johnny begins the motions of an electric chair drop and the Bahaman grabs Landon by the back of his head…

 

WHAM!

 

…and drills Landon face and chest-first into the mat!

 

“DAAAAAAAANGEEEEEEEEEROUUUUS DROOOOOOP!” shouts Pete. “This one is over!”

 

Wildchild grabs Maddix’s leg and rolls him onto his shoulders, firmly pinning his shoulders to the mat as Herrington counts…

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

“The winners of this match by pinfall,” bellows Funyon. “LIIIIIIIIIL’ BUCK AND WILD! AAAAAAAAAAND DAAAAAAAAAAANGEROUS!!!”

 

“What a match! Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have for Lockdown, Folks! For the Suicide King, this is Longdogger Pete signing out! We’ll see you on Smarkdown!”

 

“Wildchild and Johnny raise their arms triumphantly. The cameras then back off, showing the bodies sprawled out all over ringside…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As We:

FADE OUT.

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“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Joseph Peters, as the camera fades in on his office, “this week the SWF mourns the loss of the ‘Insane Luchador,’ Andrew Rickmen. After spending four years as an SWF employee, Mr. Rickmen tragically passed away this week. We ask all SWF fans to remember him, and in lieu of flowers, to contribute to their local Irish-Catholic church.”

 

“Unfortunately,” Peters says, “Mr. Rickmen was reigning as SWF World Cruiserweight Champion at the time of his passing. At this time, the booking committee is discussing the best way to handle these tragic and unexpected circumstances; a decision will be made by the beginning of Smarkdown.”

 

“Thank you, and good night.”

 

The picture fades, leaving a black screen. In the center, a photo of Rickmen in mid-air, executing a plancha, appears. Above it are the words “ANDREW RICKMEN;” below it, “1978-2005; R.I.P.”

 

A few seconds later, the picture once again fades to black.

 

===

SWF Lockdown, June 22, 2005.

© Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

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