Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the National Anthem.” No gal made has got a shade on that Swede, Georgia Brown Two left feet but oh so neat, has that Swede, Georgia Brown They all sigh and wanna die for that Swede, Georgia Brown I’ll tell you why, you know I don’t lie... much. It’s been said she knocks ’em dead when she lands in town Since she came why it’s a shame how she coos ’em down Fellers she can’t get are fellers she ain’t met Sweden claimed her, Sweden named her the Swede, Georgia Brown. The Stockholm crowd applauds its national anthem as the show fades to its intro. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” As Lockdown begins the ‘Crazy 88 Theme’ kicks up, bringing the fans in Sweden to their collective feet! “Welcome to SWF LOCKDOWN~!” bellows Longdogger Pete. “We’re coming at you LIVE from Stockholm, Sweden, and it looks like we’re going to kick off this show with our World Heavyweight Champion, Ejiro Fasaki!” “Has he finally accepted the fact that he’s nothing more than a career curtain jerker?” ponders King. Pete simply shakes his head in disbelief. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” says Funyon. “Please welcome to the ring at this time the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation’s World Heavyweight Champion, EJIROOOOOOOOOOOO FAAAAAAASAKI!!” Parting aside the curtains, Ejiro Fasaki steps out onto the stage with the World Title slung over his shoulder, receiving quite the massive pop from the fans! He strolls straight down the ramp, slides into the ring under the bottom rope, heads to a turnbuckle and climbs it – holding the Championship belt aloft to the crowd as flashbulbs pop all over the arena. Finally, Ejiro hops down and heads to the far side of the ring for a microphone, which is promptly handed to him. “Wow,” begins Ejiro as his music fades out. “I can’t say I ever thought I’d get to visit Sweden in my life, but here I am!” “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Anyway,” Ejiro continues after the fans settle down, “I wish I could say I came out here tonight to spend a little time with the fans I thought I’d never see in my life, but unfortunately there are a few things that I must get to the bottom of - a few things that need to be said to a few people.” “Well I’m sure there are a lot of people who have something to say about him,” King sarcastically says. “You see, from the moment I became the World Heavyweight Champion after defeating Toxxic my life has been anything but great, which is really starting to wear thin on me. I always imagined that after I won the World Championship that I’d be on top of the World, and why wouldn’t I have any reason to think that? After all, winning this championship is what every man who steps foot in this federation comes to do. Finally winning the belt should be the pinnacle of ones career… but it’s not. Not for me at least.” “Indeed,” agrees Pete. “Ejiro’s second time as World Champion has been marked with family issues and Tom Flesher constantly trying to make Fasaki look like he’s not worthy of that belt!” “I could go on and on about how badly I’d like to knock Tom Flesher’s teeth down his throat,” says Ejiro. “The man has done nothing but try to make me look bad since I won this damn thing but,” Fasaki pauses, looking up at the fans with a smile, “I understand that Tom’s just jealous that a year and a half ago I kicked his ass and took the World Title from him!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” “What my biggest concern right now is with my sister, Melissa…and Wildchild!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” “Melissa won’t talk to me--her own brother—but recently she’s seemingly taken an interest in Wildchild and now that IS disturbing! I don’t understand why you want to mess with my sister, Dominic. I thought we buried the hatchet long ago? I thought we decided that we’ll never like each other, but there was no reason for us to constantly be at each other’s throats – we both had bigger fish to fry! Remember!? It was the same night that you won your first Tag Team Championship off me and Bill. It was supposed to have ended that night, but if you think that you can take two more things from me—my sister and my World Heavyweight Championship—and still not have me ripping out your throat…then you have seriously lost your friggin’ mind!” “ATTENTION!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” The fans roar to life as the first sounds of Redman’s voice echoes through the building. Ejiro quickly spins on his heel to face the entryway, lowering his microphone… “ALL YOU NIGGAS! “ALL YOU BITCHES! “TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…” “TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER!” “Let’s Get Dirty” kicks up and once more the crowd explodes, this time it’s marked by the Wildchild’s appearance on stage, proudly displaying his half of the Tag Team Championship around his waist! Adorning his chest is his brand new, officially-licensed “Take a Walk on de Wild Side!” t-shirt. He stops at the top of the ramp and gazes into the ring, frowning at the man in it before sprinting down the ramp full speed and diving into the ring, under the bottom rope! “DUB! CEE!” “DUB! CEE!” “DUB! CEE!” “DUB! CEE!” “Will you just listen to these fans!” marvels Pete, “there going crazy here in Sweden for the number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship! However, I think the driving force behind the Bahama Bomber coming out here is directly related to Ejiro’s sister, Melissa.” “Well you can’t really blame either of them,” says King. “That woman is so hot a roll in the hay with her would be a definite fire hazard. I don’t think Ejiro could sleep very well at night knowing his sister was receiving the Bahama Bomb!” “Oh will you stop it!” Pete scolds his announcing partner. In the ring, Wildchild reaches for a microphone. “Ejiro,” says Wildchild as his music fades out. “I don’t know why ye ‘dink ‘dat someting is goin’ on between me an Melissa – we’re jus’ friends! If da’ woman wishes to come and talk ta’ me I ‘dink she is old enough ta make ‘dat decision on her own without her big brother trying ‘ta get all up in her business.” Ejiro furrows his brow at the Bahaman, almost appalled that Wildchild would even think that he has any right to speak for his sister or to tell him what he should be doing. “In fact,” continues Wildchild. “If ye really want ‘ta know what’s going on I’ll tell you. Yeah me an Melissa have been talking – we’ve even found out ‘dat we have a lot of common interest-” “Don’t try and bullshit me, Dominic!” snarls Ejiro, “I know this goes deeper it has to. The second you start talking to my sister you suddenly become interested in the World Heavyweight Championship enough to make a valiant effort of winning the number one contender match. A title that you have always said you had no interest in, but now you do - I know she put you up to this!” “From the moment I stepped foot into the SWF I had but one goal – to become a Champion and to prove everyone who had ever doubted me wrong…dead wrong,” Ejiro says. “It took a little bit. I took my time, earning my stripes, and then my moment came and I defeated Tom Flesher for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship!” “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “That’s right,” continues Ejiro, taping his finger against the same title belt. “Maybe the first time I didn’t do so hot. However, I came back with a new outlook on life and a new purpose, and once more I became the World Heavyweight Champion! However, Wildchild, up until now, that was never your goal…you never wanted this belt. Not until you started trying to get close to Melissa!” “Well,” replies Wildchild, but before he can utter another word a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice… “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” “After the Flesh” begins pumping through the speakers as the Swedish crowd cheers in excitement at this unexpected, yet unavoidable interruption! It only takes a few seconds before the SWF’s only secret agent swipes aside the curtains and steps out onto the stage – no flash or glitter for this appearance as it is all about business. Tonight the Barracuda looks a little worse for wear than normal. His usual clean shaven face has a least a days worth of stubble, and as he makes his way to the ring he fails to high-five any of the fans gathered around the barricade. “Here comes the other half of Wild and Dangerous,” says Pete, “and strangely enough…the other number one contender for the World Heavyweight Championship!” Like the two men before him, Johnny enters the ring and promptly reaches for a microphone. His music fades out and he brings the microphone to his mouth. “Well, well, well,” he begins, smiling as he swivels his head between Wildchild and Ejiro. “Hearing all this banter about Melissa and next to nothing about what the two of you should really be focused on is quite baffling. I mean, it’s just a woman for crying out loud! Nothing in comparison to what you should be worried about, and that would be which one of you will get to defend the World Heavyweight Championship….against me.” “What?” Pete asks incredulously. “That’s not the kind of support I was expecting to see from Johnny out here.” “You see, at Ground Zero I am the challenger for the World Heavyweight Championship,” says Johnny, “least you have all forgotten. I can assure you though, I for one, have not forgotten about Ground Zero. And now that the match up has gotten quite interesting I think ever single fan of the SWF is eagerly anticipating this pay per view.” “Johnny, what ‘da hell are you going on about!?” Wildchild questions his tag team partner. “Dominic, what I am talking about is possibly one of the greatest match ups the SWF has ever seen! A match that I assure you every fan has been dying to see! At Ground Zero, I’m talking about Wild versus Dangerous for the World Heavyweight Championship!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “For over six months I have had my eye on one prize,” continues Johnny. “I have been looking forward to this match for a long time now and I couldn’t think of a better person to face for this belt than you, Nic… We’d bring the house down!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Hold on a second now!” shouts Fasaki, “I think you’re getting just a tad bit ahead of yourself, Johnny! Nobody has beaten me for the World Heavyweight Championship just yet. Not Wildchild and not you, so before you try and excite this crowd with a false promise maybe you should be worried about one of you actually beating me for this belt first!” “I beat Tom Flesher in Rome and I beat you, Ejiro, three times in a row – three times!” shouts Johnny. “Do you even think for a second that I am worried about you!? Tom Flesher thought he could block me from the World Title. He tried. Oh boy, did he try – booking every other undeserving wrestler imaginable to face off against the World Champion, but in the end he failed. Now he’s targeting you…and rightfully so.” “Rightfully? How is Tom calling Ejiro un-marketable rightful?” questions Pete. “Maybe if you’ll shut up he’ll explain,” says King. “In this World there are two kinds of people, Ejiro,” explains Johnny. “There are those who are meant to be Champions and then there are those who are meant to be there for the sole purpose of benefiting the Champion. I like to simplify it by saying there are those who are ‘Beautiful People’ and there are those who are ‘Ugly People’. You see this,” Johnny says, pointing at his half of the Tag Team Title belt. “Four times now I have been a tag team Champion and I have been a Champion in the SWF ten times! I think it goes without saying that I am certainly meant to be a Champion. I am a ‘Beautiful Person’ while you, Ejiro…well you’d be one of those ‘Ugly People’ I spoke of.” “You can kiss my ass, Dangerous!” snaps Ejiro, fuming. “No,” replies Johnny. “You see that’d be where the ugly folks like you start serving me. Tom Flesher is right to say your not worthy because you aren’t. You never did a damn thing to earn a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship and the fact that 13th Hour sold out after you were announced to not be main eventing the program just shows that nobody wants to see you with that belt, anyway. Your time as Champion is drawing to a close, Ejiro. It’s just a matter of who gets to you first…me or Wildchild. Whoever walks into Ground Zero - whether it be friend,” he says, glancing at Wildchild before turning his head back towards Fasaki, “or foe. Whoever enters Ground Zero as the World Heavyweight Champion will leave as the former World Heavyweight Champion!” Johnny drops his microphone and steps out of the ring, dropping to the floor. The fans, not sure how exactly to take Johnny just stare in silence as the two remaining men in the ring watch as the Barracuda makes his exit… As We: FADE OUT. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 -=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN, JULY 6th, 2005, LIVE FROM THE STOCKHOLM GLOBE ARENA IN STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) -=-=-=- The Main Event Toxxic vs. El Luchadoooooooooore Magniiiiiiiificooooooooo! --> Man, you guys are lucky. Soooo lucky. First we get two 3-time World Champions going face to face - and now, we get it again! Magnifico approached Toxxic about putting on what can be considered nothing less than a dream match, and I had a few people... taken care of... to make sure it happened on my show! Two SWF Legends collide - will Toxxic go 0 for 2 in his "Triple Champ Challenge", or will he put Magnifico in his place? Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=- SWF Cruiserweight Championship Match "The Critic" Scott Pretzler © vs. Zyon © --> Scott Pretzler, your new Cruiserweight Champion! Let's hear it for him, folks! Give 'em a hand! *crickets chirp* Ok, yes, the means by which he came into this title reign weren't what one might call honorable, but darn it, he's trying! And tonight, he'll be trying against a lightweight who's shown a lot of spunk in recent weeks - Zyon. He fell short in Storm's main event but still did one helluva job, and with Jay Hawke out with injuries, his Runners-up prize is the first crack at Pretzler's title. Will Zyon follow in Insane Luchadore's footsteps and become the Hardcore Cruiserweight Champion? Rules: Standard singles match, with Cruiser rules. No throwing opponents over the top rope, outside count goes to 20, yadda yadda yadda. -=-=-=- Hardcore Match Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix vs. Lil' Buck --> It's just no fun to be Landon Maddix right now. He and Todd Cortez lost their Tag Titles back to Wild and Dangerous... both Wild AND Dangerous have World Title shots lined up... Megan Skye was a wee bit less than honest about their non-existant sex life... it just keeps piling on. On the other side, Lil' Buck lost his two bids at the SWF World Heavyweight Championship, and his self esteem could be on the decline. I think these two might have some pent up anger they need to release. Rules: Hardcore to the xtreme, d00d. -=-=-=- Opening Bout Arch Griffon and Manson vs. Randy Myers and Ghost Machine --> Reliable sources inside the Flesher administration suggest that Ghost Machine is an android, not a robot. Just thought you all might like to know. Now then - Wild and Dangerous are 4-time tag champs (ed's note: NOOOOOOO!), and their main contendors, Martial Law, are working through some technical difficulties at the moment. In the meantime, we need to see what the tag division has to offer our record-breaking champs. In the red corner - Arch Griffon and Manson. Like Peanut Butter and Bananas, you wouldn't think to put them together, but when you do, it's quite tasty. They might not (yet) have a catchy name, but considering they hold victories over Martial Law and Revolution Zero, we really can't hold that against them. In the blue corner - an equally odd pairing. The team of Randy Myers, and a man who I am 75% certain is not a robot (but he might be). Both relatively new, but Ghost Machine has scored some notable wins, and there's always a possibility that this unlikely duo will mesh just as well as Griffonosity. We'll just have to wait and see. Rules: Standard tag team match (don't forget to use the tag ropes). Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 SmarkDown returns to the Stockholm Globe Arena, where the crowd awaits the next match, as LDP and Suicide King welcome us back. "Welcome back to Stockholm, Sweden, for our opening match-up as Manson and Arch Griffon take on the unlikely duo of Randy Myers and Ghost Mac--" "HE ISN'T A GODDAMN ROBOT!!" shouts Suicide King. "Uh, okay, but I wasn't gonna bring it up anyway." "Well, good…" "The concept is ridiculous anyway. A real live robot in the SWF…" "I agree," says King, nodding his head. "Especially when we all know he's a cyborg!" King rips off his headset and nervously pulls out a flask, taking a swig, as the cameras pan over toward the stage, and some kind of weird robot music starts up. Ghost Machine and world renown rap and hip-hop producer, manager and homosexual life partner of Ghost Machine walk out, followed by Randy Myers behind them. Even he's put off by the two as Ghost begins spitting on the crowd, with Crunk doing the robot dance on his way down the aisle, but soon Myers gives in to Ghost and Crunk's influence, as he begins flipping off the crowd and spitting on them also, because he hates them, of course. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Funyon booms, "the following is a tag match scheduled for one fall! First, making their way down to the ring, being accompanied by JL Crunk and weighing in at a combined weight of five-hundred and eighty seven pounds… the team of GHOST MACHINE AND RAAANNDY MYYYERSS!" The crowd covered in all manner of viscous body fluids, all three nod to each other over a job well done and the two competitors enter the ring, with Crunk taking his place outside the ring. Immediately Ghost and Myers turn toward the referee, but lo and behold, Zangief is pulling ref duty again! Zangief grunts and stares them down, even meeting Ghost's mechanical gaze as the two back down. The house lights then dim, and Sweden's own Arch Enemy hits the speakers as "We Will Rise" begins, the song met with uproarious cheers, as multi-colored strobes pulse and flash in time with the music. Then, just as the lyrics begin... *BOOM!* A burst of pyro explodes from the stage and Manson emerges, immediately throwing up the horns to a massive pop from the fans. Arch Griffon silently follows behind him, and both head down to the ring, determined and focused on the task at hand. "And their opponents, weighing in at a combined weight of five-hundred and forty two pounds… the team of MMMAAAANNNSOOONNN AND AAAARRRCH GRRRIIIIFFFFOONNNN!" Manson rolls in under the bottom rope with Griffon sliding in after, and the team of Myers and Ghost immediately jump them as they stand! Funyon exits the ring and the bell rings. ::DING DING!:: All four men get into a brawl, with Manson and Myers, and Griffon and Ghost Machine pairing off. Manson gets the advantage on Myers, taking him by the wrist and attempting to whip him across the ring to the far camera side ropes, but Myers holds his ground and reverses. Myers telegraphs a back body drop, and Manson makes him pay for it, with a knee lift to the face! Myers falls back, grabbing his jaw, as Manson meets him with forearms to the face. With Myers against the ropes, Manson takes a step back and charges forward, knocking him over the top with a clothesline! "Manson disposes of Myers!" shouts Pete. With Myers out of the ring, Manson turns his attention to Griffon and Ghost, still in the midst of a brawl with Griffon having the upper hand. Manson hits Ghost with a kick to the stomach, doubling him over. Manson and Griffon then hammer Ghost with double sledges to the back, knocking him down as Griffon exits the ring. "They're off to a great start, despite Randy Myers and Ghost Machine jumping them out of the gate," says LDP. "It was to be expected, honestly." Ghost Machine comes to a stand, as Manson places him in a front necklock. He next throws Machine's arm over and hooks his tights, and lifts him into the air. Hesitating for a moment, Manson then drops him… forward, onto the ropes gut first! Machine dangles precariously on the rope, as Manson heads off for the ropes and springs off, coming back with a dropkick to the side of Ghost Machine's head! Ghost falls back into the ring and Manson goes for a cover, but Ghost grabs the ropes immediately. "A pin off the dropkick, but Ghost lucked out." Manson snarls as he walks over and tags Griffon, bringing the larger of the two into the ring, but as Griffon approaches Ghost Machine, Ghost scoots back away and begs off. Griffon pusues him and pulls him up to his feet, but Ghost pokes him in the eyes, blinding him for the moment, then measures and delivers a chop to the throat, bringing Griffon down to a knee. Ghost then tags Myers, bringing him into the ring. "And Myers is in, relieving Ghost for the time being… but wait…" Myers enters the ring, but takes a moment to taunt Griffon by standing in front of him and waving his hand in front of his own face like a jackass, shouting something about how Griffon's eyesight is poor and should go see a doctor, because Griffon can't see him clearly enough. Naturally, this allows Arch adequate time to recover, as he rears up and shoves Myers away, and as Myers charges, Griffon knocks him down with a clothesline. "What the hell was Myers doing there?" "I don't know… Jesus, I don't know…" mutters King, as he takes another swig from his flask. Myers stands and Griffon knocks him down with another lariat, and having had enough, Ghost Machine enters the ring and is also knocked down to the mat with a clothesline, then quickly exits the ring as quickly as he entered. Myers stands and is immediately knocked down with, what else, another clothesline. Griffon then pulls Myers up and drags him back toward his side of the ring, where he tags in The Raging Bull. Manson enters and jumps up onto the second rope as Griffon hoists Myers up and drops him back down across his knee, and Manson comes off with a legdrop across the throat of Myers! Griffon exits the ring, as Manson this time pulls his opponent away from the ropes and hooks a leg. "Manson with the legdrop off the Griffon backbreaker!" "ONE!" But he kicks out! Manson stands and waits for Myers to comes up to his feet, then once he does, Manson knocks him down with… another clothesline! Fuck yeah! Manson helps Myers up to his feet and delivers a series of punches to the temple, then grabs him by the wrist and whips him to the upper right corner. Manson charges in, but Myers gets a boot up. Manson stumbles back and Myers heads in, but Manson jumps and catches him in the face with a gamengiri! Myers goes down, and Manson goes for a pin once more. "ONE!" "TWO!" Myers kicks out! "Manson gets a two off the gamengiri kick to the face, and Myers is not faring well." "It all goes back to him messing with Griffon instead of immediately following up on the attack," surmises King. Manson pulls Myers up and places him in a front facelock, then brings him back to his corner where Griffon tags in and gives Myers a kick to the ribs. "In comes Griffon once more!" With Myers doubled over, Griffon drops him down with an elbow to the back of the neck. Myers grabs at his neck grimacing, as Griffon then heads for the ropes and bounces off, coming down on Myers with a legdrop. Myers convulses and Griffon rolls him over onto his back, then goes for a cover. "ONE!" "TWO!" But again Myers kicks out. Griffon slaps the mat and pulls Myers up, who reaches in vain for Ghost Machine as JL Crunk paces frantically on the outside, and whips him into the lower left corner. Griffon heads after him immediately, and as Myers hits the turnbuckle, Griffon brings his leg up and connects with a tremendous yakuza kick! Myers collapses out of the corner and Griffon goes for a cover… "A big charging yakuza kick in the corner!" "ONE!" "TWOOO!" "THR--" But Ghost Machine enters the ring and breaks up the pin! He begins to hammer Griffon with forearms to the back, and this sets off Manson who charges into the ring and heads after Ghost Machine. He hits a series of punches to the face of Machine, and pulls him up by the laces of his mask, forcing him to stand. Ghost fights back briefly, but Manson hits a knee to the stomach, doubling Ghost over. Manson then grabs him by the back of the tights and mask, and circles him around, then throws him out of the ring through the ropes! Zangief admonishes Manson, but is forced to turn his attention away as Griffon and Myers get back up to their feet. Myers hits a kick to the stomach, and holding the back of his head, grabs Griffon in preparation for a whip across the ring, but it backfires as Griffon hits Myers with, OMG, a clothesline! He goes down to the mat. "Manson throws Ghost outside and Griffon has Myers where he wants him!" Meanwhile, on the outside, Manson and Ghost Machine go back and forth, and with Zangief distracted by the goings on inside the ring, JL Crunk gets into the act, jumping onto Manson and knocking him down to the ground. He and Ghost Machine stalk Manson as he rolls away briefly, but Manson brings his arm up as he gets to his knees and gives Crunk a low blow! Crunk stumbles away, as Ghost Machine picks Manson back up and tries to whip him into the steel steps, but Manson reverses and sends Ghost instead! Ghost collides with the steps, knocking the top set away. Inside the ring, Griffon has Myers in his grasp, and he whips him across the ring. Myers bounces off as Manson slides in, and then Griffon lifts Myers up by the legs. In perfect tandem, Manson jumps up and catches Myers on the way down, nailing him with a Consequences Diamond Cutter and completing the MGD! The impact knocks Myers out cold, and Manson pops up to his feet, watching for Ghost, as Griffon covers… "MGD!" "Oh, it's over now," says King, as he pockets his flask, having gotten through the match. "ONE!" "TWOOO!" "THREEE!" ::DING DING!:: "We Will Rise" hits to the applause of the crowd, as Manson and Griffon give each other a hug, celebrating their return to form, before having their hand raised by Zangief. They look down at the fallen Myers before leaving the ring, as JL Crunk, still holding his crotch, gingerly slides inside. He confronts Zangief, grabbing him by the arm as he was about the leave the ring, screaming about the injustice tonight. Crunk paintbrushes Zangief, angering the big man as he huffs and puffs, then grabs Crunk and takes him up into the air… "Manson and Griffon take this match, but Crunk is upset!" "Oh no…" FFFFFIIIIINAAAAAAAALLLLL AAAAAATOOOOOOOOMMMICCCC BUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSTAAAAAAAAHHH! Having shut Crunk up, Zangief raises his fists in the air, soaking in the crowd's adulation, before celebrating in classic Russian form… Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 “Fans, welcome back from the break after that exciting tag match!” Longdogger Pete shouts. “We’re here live in Stockholm, and we still have an amazing amount of exciting wrestling lined up!” “Just as well really,” Suicide King comments, “given that we’ve only had one match so far.” “Personally, I’m looking forward to Landon Maddix vs. Li’l Buck,” Pete says. “Buck is always up for a fight, and I want to see what sort of mental state Landon is in after the events that transpired on Storm.” “I’m in two minds here,” King admits. “Now, everyone knows that I hate Landon. But on the other hand, the kid showed some rare good sense by superkicking Todd Cortez in the back of the head and shoving Megan over.” “What a dilemma,” Pete sighs, shaking his head in exasperation at his partner before brightening. “But that’s not all fans, because we have what has to be considered a dream match as our main event when Toxxic takes on El Luchador Magnifico!” “A dream match for spotmonkey enthusiasts perhaps,” King says with derision. “I can’t believe that Toxxic has turned his back on his roots and actually embraced the fans! The last reason for me to root for him seems to have gone.” “To be fair to the man,” Pete says, wondering as he speaks why he’s saying it, “Toxxic seemed as surprised as anyone at the reaction he got in the Ukraine!” Speaking of surprise… “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “I know that music…” King mutters as the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire rolls out across the Stockholm Globe Arena to an amazing positive response from the Scandinavian crowd! The Smarktron briefly whites out before starting to fade to black; as it does so, jagged white letters flash up a familiar phrase: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ The screen changes as the main riff starts and begins to show highlights of the Straight-Edge Sensation’s career. However, instead of waiting for his usual spectacular pyro burst Toxxic strides out from the back almost immediately, marching down the ramp towards the ring with a grim expression on his face. “Well, here comes the three-time World Champion, and he doesn’t look happy,” Pete comments as Toxxic rolls under the bottom rope into the ring in front of the surprised Funyon. Unwilling to relinquish his microphone before speaking his piece, then veteran ring announcer raises it to his lips… “Ladies and gentlemen, in the ring at this time… the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Toxxic holds out one black-nailed hand and receives the microphone from Funyon, then turns around and raises it to begin speaking… but is cut off by a totally unexpected chant. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The Straight-Edge Sensation looks puzzled for a moment, then seems to accept the fact that several thousand people are actually chanting for him for once. However, the Brit still isn’t smiling as he raises one hand in a bid for relative quiet. “I’m sure you can guess why I’m out here,” Toxxic begins, well aware that his audience’s English is much better than his Swedish, “since I’m assuming you all saw what happened on Storm?” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “That’s correct,” Toxxic says with a touch of grim humour. “My ‘good friend’ Scott Pretzler managed to pick up one of the biggest wins in his career when he pinned me in our Hardcore-that-wasn’t-meant-to-be-Hardcore match.” “PRETZ-LER SUCKS!” “PRETZ-LER SUCKS!” “Scott, you’re a great wrestler,” Toxxic says, turning to address the back, “I’m not denying that. And on Friday, you did something that no-one else has ever done… you caused me to lose two singles matches on the bounce. Now, in the old days that would have been cause for me to go apeshit and start hurting people,” the straight-edger continues, waving one black-nailed hand vaguely, “but I’ve calmed down a lot since then.” “So I’m only going to hurt one person: You.” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The Swedish fans seem very interested in that idea, but Toxxic raises his hand again to calm them down. The Straight-Edge Sensation doesn’t seem to want to lose control of where this is going. “We had an agreement, you and I,” he tells the absent Critic. “We spoke before the show, we agreed not to use the hardcore rules because we didn’t want to, we shook hands on the deal… and you bloody lied to me, sunshine!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “I should have known better,” the Straight-Edge Sensation admits, “I should have realised that I couldn’t trust you! You were always looking out for number one Scott; that’s why it was so easy to persuade you to join Revolution Zero in the first place! I knew back then that you would eventually come for the World Title and you’d tread on me if I was in your way and if you could, but - and here’s the important point - not yet. I always knew you were an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, but I somehow thought that perhaps the fact that we were united against the rest of the federation and the world, you me and JJ, three guys everyone hated but who would never stoop to the tactics they expected of us… maybe that would hold us together.” Toxxic shakes his head ruefully. “Even after I dissolved Revolution Zero I still counted you two as friends, even if a slightly distant one in the case of JJ… but I was wrong.” “Jesus, Toxxic’s become a whiny little bitch,” King sighs. “I seem to recall you singing his praises only the other show,” Pete argues, but his commentary partner just sniffs. “I respected the man for his sheer refusal to conform to what was wanted of him, and the disrespect he showed jackasses like Stevens and Zenon,” the Gambling Man informs his partner. “As a person I like him little more than I like Landon, and believe you me the feeling is mutual.” The Swedish fans are still cheering Toxxic’s words, but the Straight-Edge Sensation is determined not to let the crowd’s support get in his way anymore than he ever let their hatred, and he forges on. “I’ve done a lot of bad things,” Toxxic admits. “I’ve beaten the pulp out of various SWF legends, and I’ve spat on them afterwards. I’ve crippled people, both intentionally and otherwise. I’ve subjected wrestling fans across the globe to far more of me nattering on than anyone should have to bear…” the straight-edger grins ironically for a moment, “…but there are two things I’ve never done. I’ve never broken a rule; and I’ve never broken a promise. You didn’t break the rules on Friday Scott, but you did break a promise. And I take that personal.” “PRETZ-LER SUCKS!” “PRETZ-LER SUCKS!” “Up until the end of our match on Friday, we were taking it easy on each other,” Toxxic tells the crowd, “but that’s changed now. Scott betrayed my trust, so now he’s going to find out what I can do when I’m really wrestling. And in order to do that-” When I was back in seminary school… “RAAAAAAAAAA!” There was a person there who put forth the proposition that you can petition the Lord with prayer. Petition the Lord with prayer? Petition the Lord with prayer?! YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER! With that, Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” bursts out over the speakers, and to a loud reaction, Tom Flesher steps through a cloud of blue smoke and pyro and into the arena. Some fans cheer, and some boo; all of them, however, know that they’re about to see something that Toxxic is unlikely to be happy with. As he walks to the ring, Flesher holds a glass of scotch in one hand; his Camel cigarettes are visible in the front pocket of his blue collared shirt as he takes his spot on the ramp. “Hold on just a second, Toxxic,” Flesher says, holding up one hand as ‘Kashmir’ fades out, “because I think I know what you’re going to say next. Not,” the Superior One adds with a smirk, “that I consider you predictable or anything.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “I think that you’re probably going to want a deciding match between the two of you,” Flesher continues. “A rubber match, if you will.” “Damn right, sunshine,” Toxxic snaps up at his old nemesis, “and-” “Uh-uh,” Flesher chides the Straight-Edge Sensation, wagging his finger, “this might not be my show but I’m still your boss for one show out of three, so I suggest you shut up for just a second and listen.” Taking a sip of scotch from the rocks glass in his hand, Flesher clears his throat and continues. “As I was saying, I knew you’d ask for a third, deciding match. However, I’m not going to grant that request, and I’ve already spoken to the rest of the booking committee to make sure it doesn’t happen.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “What!?” Longdogger Pete says, aghast. “How can Tom Flesher, Tom Flesher, not want Toxxic and Pretzler to finish their issues? If nothing else, surely he’d hope that Pretzler would beat Toxxic again!” “Calm down, Drain-Clogger,” King says with a hint of amusement, “I spoke to Tom earlier today and he’s not quite saying what you think he is…” Toxxic doesn’t seem to agree with the former Commissioner’s assessment of the situation and is telling Flesher so in no uncertain terms (although being rather cautious, he’s making sure that the microphone isn’t anywhere near his mouth - not even Toxxic wants to be responsible for a parents’ law-suit). “Toxxic, Toxxic,” Flesher says with a laugh, “a Best of Three? Please, Scott Pretzler has already had a Best of Three series recently when he defeated Wildchild in an example of truly great technical wrestling. No… you’ll be facing off against Scott in a BEST OF FIVE!” “…YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Five?” Pete queries as Toxxic’s eyes widen. “But why would… wait, I get it!” “First time for everything,” King mutters. “Go on then genius, tell the world.” “If events so far have driven a wedge between Toxxic and his former follower a third match would probably make things worse, but three more matches would certainly end any chance of friendship between Toxxic and Pretzler!” Pete asserts. “I can’t help thinking that Tom Flesher is trying to wheedle The Critic away from Toxxic’s influence, although for what purpose I can’t guess!” “If he is, then it’d take more brainpower than a lummox like you possesses to work it out,” King sniffs. “Now be quiet and let the man speak again.” “In order to make this interesting, for the two matches necessitated by the series the booking committee have decided to allow you and Scott to choose the stipulations, one each,” Flesher continues. “I’ve already spoken to Scott,” the Superior One continues with a grin, “and he has chosen a Submission match. I think I’m going to claim that one for my own Smarkdown show, the one coming this Monday in fact… unless you have anything else wrestling-orientated in mind?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at the Straight-Edger in the ring. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “Well, what are you hoping for? A Pure Wrestling match?” Toxxic asks, looking up the ramp towards Flesher before giving a sour laugh. “Fraid not, Tom. I did you a favour by giving you the idea for me vs. Danny, I’m not doing you another and I’m certainly not doing Scott any.” The straight-edger flashes the Smarkdown Commissioner one of his trademark lopsided grins. “You tell Pretzler to get ready, because I know my strengths. I wonder if Joseph Peters will be interested in a real Hardcore match between the Critic and the Straight-Edge Sensation…?” “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “-and this time, I won’t be holding anything back!” Toxxic finishes at a yell as the Swedish crowd rises to its feet. “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” “If that’s what you want,” Tom snaps, “but then I shouldn’t have expected anything less from an overpushed spotmonkey like you!” “An overpushed spotmonkey who’s beaten your arse, sunshine!” Toxxic fires back. “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Is that what this is about, Tom?” Toxxic inquires, climbing onto the bottom rope and leaning out over the top cable as he stares up at the Superior One. “Are you just trying to live vicariously through Scott Pretzler because he’s actually managed to beat me one-on-one?” “I’d watch your mouth, limey,” Flesher says with menace, “or I’ll come down there and shut it for you.” “Please,” Toxxic scoffs, “you couldn’t beat Johnny Dangerous!” “Oooh,” Pete winces as that comment receives a mixed reaction from the Swedish crowd, “I see Toxxic’s not prepared to be completely charitable yet then!” “Tom,” Toxxic says as Flesher stews angrily on the soundstage, “I know you think that Scott Pretzler’s gonna beat me again, but I advise you to think very carefully about that because if you think I’m going to trust him again… if you think I’m going to be going into this unprepared… if, above all, you think that a couple of losses have turned me into some sort of fading midcard jobber, then sunshine…” Toxxic’s grin widens, and as he thrusts the microphone into the air the SWF crowd, for the first time ever, chants along with the world-renowned catchphrase… “…PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG!!” “Fans, don’t go away because we have Maddix vs. Buck up next!” Pete shills. 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Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Well, here comes a kid with a lot of explaining to do." As he emerges through the curtains, Landon Maddix stops and glances around the crowd. The boos are unfamiliar. The pro-Maddix signs are gone, replaced by anti- Maddix placards, with slogans like "LANDON ES MUCHO SUCKO", "LANDON NO-DDIX" and "CORTEZ IS A COCKROACH KILLER". Also gone is any sense of happiness in Maddix's demeanour. Now, he just looks sour. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be fought under Hardcore Rules! Introducing first, from Huron, South Dakota...weighing in at two hundred, twenty pounds...LANDON! "LA CUCARACHA!" MADDIX!" "BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "BOOOOOOOOO!" adds King for good measure. "King, please." Maddix climbs solemnly up the steps, entering the ring and taking the mic from Funyon. The boos take Maddix a bit by surprise and he stops, waiting for them to end...before raising the mic. Only to be met by more boos. And again, Maddix stops and waits for them to pass. "Before we get on with this match, there's something I need to say...and people I need to apologise to. You people...have...every right to boo me right now." admits Maddix. "What I did last time you saw me was wrong. These past few weeks have been very tough for me. None of it from my own doing, of course...but, they've been tough. Real tough. It seems like every ray of hope there's been in my life and career recently has been nothing more than a pure copout. I win the International Title and end up thinking I've slept with my manager, causing me to lose the title. I FINALLY win the World Tag Team Titles, only to have that royally screwed up by certain other parties. As soon as I get back on track, it's been one disappointment after another dragging me back down. But, I'm a man...and as a man, I'm ready to admit to my mistakes. Megan, I didn't mean to push you. It was instinctive. And Todd...superkicking you was nothing more than a heat of the moment thing. So, I just wanted to say...I'm sorry. Thank you." With a small nod, Maddix passes the microphone back to Funyon. "THAT'S his apology?" sneers King. "He must not want forgiveness." "Well, I don't think these fans forgive him King." "And, his opponent..." Funyon is ready to introduce Lil'Buck...but suddenly, "Oh No" hits and the crowd go BANANA~ as Todd Cortez steps through the curtains!! "Uh oh!" cries Pete. "I thought we were supposed to be having a wrestling match here, not another episode of The Martial Law Soap Opera." Maddix looks a bit pertubed to be interrupted at first, but soon calms down. But judging from the look on Cortez's face, he's not in the mood for apologies. "Well, it's about time you got out here." smiles Maddix, not judging Cortez's mood at all right. "I've been calling you all week but you haven't returned my calls, answered my e-mails. Did you even hear my apology..." "I did, yeah. And, quite frankly, I don't know what to do first. Vomit..." Maddix's eyes open a little, as he forces a laugh. "...or come down there and kick your ass." "YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" "Uh oh!" gasps Pete. "I don't think the apology worked!" Eyes open even more now, Maddix stares up at Cortez in shock, finally realising The Urban Legend isn't joking about. "Look, Todd...I...I know you're angry. But let's not be hasty here. Saying things we REALLY don't mean is going to help nobody." "Who says I don't mean it?" growls Cortez. "I do! Because we're tag team partners. You and me. Martial Law. We're amigos, hombrés...close enough not to let some stupid little disagreement get in the way of the bigger picture. 14 months. 14 months it took me to become Tag Team Champion! Me and Todd Royal? We tried for months, but couldn't get the job done. When me and you got our heads in the game, we did it. Hell, it was with your help that I won the World Heavyweight Title. That I won the Clusterfuck." "Would you LISTEN to yourself!" Cortez interrupts angrily, surprising Maddix. "I did this, I did that. Me, me, me. That's all I ever hear from you Landon and to be honest, I'm sick of it. This...'apology'...has to be the most self centred, piece of crap excuse for an apology I've ever heard!" Maddix tries to interrupt, but doesn't get in in time. "Do you realise what these past few months in Martial Law have been like? First, there was you carrying on your stupid little feud with Alan Clark for no reason at all, apart from the fact you couldn't let it lie. Annoying. But I dealt with it. If I dealt with Masked Man, I could deal with you, I thought. Once you became the World Champion though, you became insufferable! The sad thing is, Toxxic was right. Shock, horror. Toxxic was right all along. It was all about you, all the time. It was about YOU winning the Tag Titles. YOU. Not US, but YOU! You want to know why Megan didn't tell you about our relationship? It's because...she didn't want you to be involved. Everything you touch becomes all about you. Martial Law. The Tag Titles. Me and Megan didn't need a third person in our relationship. Now, I don't think she should have lied to you...that's why I convinced her to tell you the truth...but I know exactly WHY she lied to you." "Of course you know 'exactly why she lied'. She's not the only one who lied to me, let's not forget. You lied to me too Cortez. I asked you...I blatantly came out and I asked you if anything was going on last Christmas. And you remember what your response was? Huh? You LAUGHED at me!" "That was different. Nothing was going on then..." With things not going as he had wanted, Maddix sighs. "Look, we don't need to be arguing over this..." "If I remember correctly, you told me you had no intentions either. At least, until you thought I did. What was the matter Landon? As soon as you thought I had something, instantly you wanted it. Isn't that what happened? Isn't that why this is all getting to you so much?" "Is this what getting with Megan was about? Getting to me?" "And AGAIN, it ALL comes right back to YOU!" Cursing under his breath, Maddix hangs his head. "I'm sorry...I just..." "Can't help it?" "No. No, look, I can help it. And I will help it. I don't want this to come between us. Todd, I'm going to make this all up to you, you know that. We'll get Martial Law back together, get the ourselves re-collected. I'll get us a Tag Team Title shot again. I swear. Even if it means begging at Tom Flesher's Doc Martens, I will get US that rematch and I will do my level best to win us those Tag Titles back, if that'll prove how sorry I am." Cortez muses over it for a moment, screams of 'NO!' coming at him from all areas of the crowd. A wry smile emerges on Todd's face and Maddix notices it...but then, notices it disappear. "Well?" "Landon, the only time I want to be in the ring with you...is when I'm AGAINST YOU!!" "YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "As of right now...Martial Law...is history." "YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" "And unless Megan's had a change of mind, she thinks so too. Because right now, she doesn't even want to look at you, let alone manage you. I've got a duty to keep her protected now. And if you're going to be shoving her around, then we think it's best that we move on our seperate ways...and you do the same. If she ever gets round to forgiving you, then that's her decision. Me though? I can't see that happening. Infact, the idea of being in the ring against you...sounds very tempting right now. Too tempting to pass up..." Suddenly, Cortez throws down the mic and begins to stride towards the ring. "Heeeeeere we go!" Maddix quickly tosses his mic down as well and starts to panic, his head shooting around the ring as he looks for an exit. As he does, Cortez reaches the ring and slides in... ...causing Maddix to bail out the side! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" The crowd boo the cowardly Cucaracha, but he could care less, too busy leaping over the barricade and getting the hell out of dodge. Cortez watches on, fuming away as he stares in Maddix's direction and points a finger his way. Maddix looks back and tries not to look too scared. And fails miserably. "Well, I guess that's pretty clear...Todd Cortez isn't forgiving or forgetting. Far from it! Martial Law have imploded and Cortez is gunning for revenge, while Maddix is just running for cover!" "It was only a matter of time before Cortez had enough of Maddix's egomania. I'm just surprised it took so long." Maddix has found the exit and scurries off, leaving Cortez standing in the ring...satisfied to have rid of Maddix, but dissatisfied not to have gotten his hands on him. Remaining in the ring, Cortez continues to stare off into the distance, as we... -FADE OUT- (to commercial) Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 "Well, up next, we are scheduled to have the hardcore match between Landon Maddix and Lil' Buck." informs Pete, as we return to Lockdown. "But after what we saw minutes ago, it wouldn't surprise me if Maddix had continued running for the hills and left already." "Wouldn't surprise me either. And it sure wouldn't sadden me." "It does jeopardise what was an intriguing, feature match on tonight's card." "So?" "So? King, these fans paid to get into the show, remember?" "Who cares? It's just a bunch of Swedes. So, we annoy them a little by not giving them an advertised match. When are we going to need to sell this place out again? We probably won't be back for years and by then, everyone will have forgotten Landon Maddix even existed." ---- Suddenly, we are whisked backstage. Where conveniently, a camera has caught up backstage with Landon Maddix. Skulking through the hallways, Maddix's head darts around as he sneaks down the corridor and presumably towards the exit. Presumed, because he has his 'kitbag' slung over his shoulder. Pete: "Well, there's Maddix...and I think he IS trying to get away, King!" King: "No kidding." Off screen, something catches Maddix's attention and he anxiously glances towards the route of the sound. Nothing. Maddix sighs in relief, carrying on down the hallway and carefully turning the corner...coming to an abrupt stop! Instantly Maddix drops his bag and backs up, begging off. From Lil' Buck, who strolls into shot, advancing on Maddix. Buck: "Goin' somewhere?" Maddix: "Uhm, uhm..wel...uhm, well...Buck, look...I gotta get outta here man. I've got to go. So, I'll just, I'll just...let you get back to...whatever it is you rapper folk do for a laugh. I...there's isn't goin...I mean, there cannot be a match between us. I'm sorry. I know you were...were...looking forward to wrestling me. Would have been a GREAT match, real great. Really, really...super...but, I really have to get out of here, so I'll just be going now and hey, you enjoy yourse...*GGAAARRHH!*" Maddix tries to get away in the middle of his rambling. But doesn't get too far, with Buck's hand gripped tightly around his throat. Buck: "I don' think so, bitch." Maddix: "(raspily)Buck... I... can't... breathe..." Buck: "Dat's the point, fuckstick!" Tightening his grip, Buck pulls Maddix in closer. Buck: "Now you and me...we gonna walk out to that ring, real professional like. And we gon' have a match." Maddix: "(raspily)But... I... *GAHHHH!*" Buck: "I SAID...we gonna walk out to that ring...and we gonna have a match. Or, we gonna have a little match ri'here. And ri'here...there's plenty stuff I can cave yo'mu'fuckin skull in wi'! So, what's it gon' be? We gon' go to the ring?" Maddix: "(raspily)Yea... *AAK!*... yes... sir..." Buck: "Da's mo' like it!" Slowly, Buck releases his grip on Maddix...only to quickly re-apply it as Maddix instantly tries to scamper away again! Buck: "Big mistake, boy! Now...I'm gon' beat you like you my wo'mn!" Maddix: "(raspily)Buck... please..." Buck: "Yeah, you better start beggin' boy!" Maddix: "(raspily)I'm sor... *AAK!*... could you... I'm... choking here..." "HEY, MADDIX!" Buck looks up, as suddenly, jogging down the hall is TODD CORTEZ!! Releasing his vice-like grip on Maddix' throat, Buck snaps around, possibly presuming that Cortez is here to save his Martial Law buddy. But obviously, it's the opposite. Maddix takes advantage of being released, snatching his bag and scurrying away from Buck, who realises it too late and quickly turns on his heels to chase after The Next Generation. But he's passed quickly by Todd Cortez, who is in slightly hotter pursuit! As he runs, Maddix happens to turn his head to check behind him. And as he sees Cortez and Buck chasing after him, Maddix bugs out and tries to speed himself up. Pete: "Well, this is crazy here. We've got a multi-person chase going on in the backstage area!" King: "I'm getting some serious Stash The Ash flashbacks here. And that's not a good thing." Frantically, Maddix turns another corner. But Cortez is still on his heels, with Buck on Cortez's! Maddix quickly reaches out as he rushes through another corridor, grabbing a trash-can and haphazardly tossing it over his head. Cortez manages to see it coming and blocks the can. But that stops Cortez, long enough for Buck to catch up with him and shove Cortez onto his ass. Buck: "THAT BITCH IS MINE, BITCH!" Buck then jogs on himself. Lumbering a little, from the lack of breath Buck's choking had caused, Maddix slows down to grab something else to throw. Which turns out to be a steel chair, folding it up on the rung and skimming it low. Buck manages to dodge the chair, hurtling towards his knees. But again, Buck is slowed down momentarily...helping Maddix to get further away. As he reaches the end of the corridor though, Maddix stops and realises he doesn't know where the hell he is or what way he's supposed to be going. With Buck and Cortez still after him though, Maddix decides to go left. Cortez and Buck are still following though. Maddix: "No, no...SECURITY! WHERE THE HELL IS SECURITY!?!" Once again Maddix manages to break into a sprint, as he sees the exit to the parking lot within sight, as once again Cortez has burst past the slower Buck. Maddix again glances behind him, fear in his eyes as Cortez seems to be gaining on him. But luckily for Maddix, he reaches the exit first, bursting through the doors and slamming them frantically behind him... ...and luckily, there's another camera in the parking lot. Breathing heavily, Maddix grabs another trash can and places it in front of the door in a pretty crappy attempt to lock Buck and Cortez out the other side. Maddix then scurries away, scanning the parking lot. And finding his rental car, presumably. Wasting little time, Maddix pops open the trunk and throws his bags in the back, slamming it closed...just as the parking lot door bursts open, sending the trash-can flying. Cortez: "You can't run forever Maddix!" Maddix: *Eep!* Maddix frantically tears open the door of his car, scrambling in. Rushing over, Cortez tries to get to Maddix before he can get the door closed. But Maddix is too far away, managing to slam the door behind him and *screeeeeech* off into the night!! Cortez is just second behind, coming to a stop and watching on disappointedly, as Maddix' car screeches off and out of the arena. Cortez: "...fuck it!" Pete: "Maddix got away!" King: "Like a thief in the night! Man, was he desperate to get away or what?" Pete: "So I guess that means Buck versus Maddix isn't going to happen tonight..." King: "Oh, gee, you think?" Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 (edited) SWF Lockdown cuts away from whatever it was showing and to a shot of Wildchild, who’s doing his best to navigate the corridors of the golf-ball-shaped Stockholm Globe Arena. WC passes an open door and catches a glimpse of something that makes him stop dead in his tracks. He backs up a step and looks into the room to see El Luchadore Magnifico sitting alone, staring at the ground in deep concentration. He doesn’t notice when Wildchild looks around the room and steps inside, wondering what Magnifico is doing in here by himself. “Mag?” No response. “Maaaaaaag...” Nothin’. “MAG!” ELM reacts as if snapping out of a trance and turns towards Wildchild, surprised. When he sees that it’s WC, Magnifico breathes a sigh of relief. “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.” ELM halfheartedly greets Wildchild. Magnifico begins preparing for his match later in the evening as Wildchild watches him, curious. “So, uh, what were y’doin’ in here, Mags?” WC asks. “Oh, not much.” Magnifico responds, seemingly uncomfortable with the subject. “Just...thinking, is all.” “...uh huh.” Wildchild approaches the luchadore and sits down next to him, slightly concerned. ELM turns and looks at him, and neither man speaks for a second. After a moment, Magnifico laughs and turns his attention back to his preparation. “Don’t worry about me.” Magnifico tells Wildchild. “I’m fine.” “T’be honest, I’m not so sure about dat.” Wildchild counters, not taking his eyes off of the luchadore. “Les’ b’honest, Mags. Y’haven’t been doin’ as well as you’d hoped, have ya?” ELM pauses. “No, I haven’t.” “It’s nothin’ t’be concerned about, Mags.” Wildchild assures him. “You’ve been out of action for more den two years. Of course you’re gonna have a hard time gettin’ back into the groove.” Magnifico looks at him. “This is different. It’s not like I have ring rust or anything; I was wrestling for almost the entire two years while I was gone in Mexico.” ELM sighs before continuing. “I’m a Three-Time World Champion, Wildchild. I lost to Ejiro, only beat Sly because of the match’s stip, and just barely beat you. This shouldn’t be happening.” Wildchild studies the luchadore for a second, measuring his words carefully. “C’mon, Mags. You’ll be fine.” Wildchild finally says, trying to be supportive. “You’re gon’ go out dere and beat Toxxic, and you’ll feel better. You’re as good as you’ve ever been.” Magnifico grins at WC. “Thanks, compadre. I needed that.” Wildchild smiles. “Anytime. See you ‘round.” With that, WC gets up and exits the room, leaving Magnifico alone. The luchadore seems happy when Wildchild is leaving, but as soon as he’s gone, the same grim expression he was wearing before WC visited him comes over his face once more. Edited July 7, 2005 by Ace309 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 (edited) “Last Monday, Scott Pretzler was awarded the SWF Cruiserweight Championship that was previously held by the late Andrew Rickmen,” Longdogger Pete begins somberly. “And now he will defend that title against one of the most exciting young superstars in the industry today, a man whose rise to fame has been nothing short of explosive…” “That man is Zyon,” Suicide King elaborates, “and he’s already proven himself by capturing the Hardcore Gamers’ Championship in his very first match. Tonight he has a chance to capture gold yet again… but I think it’s safe to say he’s in way over his head.” “His record begs to differ.” “Nonetheless, his momentum has slowed a bit after losing that three-way match on Storm – though I can think of a better way to redeem himself than with a victory over Pretzler.” “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Funyon bellows. “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the SWF CRUUUUUUUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” ‘YEEEEAAAAHHHH!’ The arena goes black as the words “I’m Born”, “I’m Alive”, and “I Breathe” alternate on the Smarktron. “Vitamin” by Incubus kicks in as Zyon bursts through the curtain and onto the entryway. He shouts to the audience and frames his championship belt between his fingers. “Introducing the challenger, from Elkhart, Indiana, weighing two hundred pounds… he is the SWF HARDCORE GAMERS’ CHAMPION… ZYYYYYYYOOOOOON!” ’You stare at me like I'm a vitamin. On the surface you hate, but you know you need me. I'll come dressed as any pill you deem fit. Whatever helps you swallow truth all the more easily.’ He runs down the ramp and hops onto the apron, then pulls himself over the top rope while performing a front flip to the delight of the crowd. In the ring, he performs a minor head bang and raises his arms in the air before removing his belt and handing it over to referee Sexton Hardcastle. He then struts to his corner to ready himself for the match. “And his opponent…” As Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony begins to play, the Cruiserweight Champion appears on the stage with his belt fastened snugly around his waist. He does not appeal to the crowd but rather surveys them, pausing at the top of the ramp to gaze with contempt upon the sea of human flotsam and jetsam. “From Toronto, Ontario, weighing two hundred twenty-six pounds… he is the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION… SCOTT PUUUUUH-REEETZLEEER!” Pretzler nods as the tempo of the symphony increases, then takes his time strolling down the ramp and mounting the ring stairs. He steps under the bottom rope and carefully removes the gold belt, handing it to the referee who, in turn, gives it to the timekeeper. He turns around and sizes up his opponent, already formulating his battle plan inside his head. *DING DING DING!* Cautiously keeping his distance, Pretzler circles Zyon in a crouch. Zyon hops energetically from side to side, keeping his eye on Pretzler. Pretzler seems to be waiting for him to make the first move, then suddenly darts forward and attempts a double-leg takedown… but Zyon throws his legs back and drives an elbow into the back of his neck as he drops down. Pretzler is somewhat stunned by the blow and tries to reach up and grab Zyon around the waist, but Zyon hits him with another elbow to break his grip, then stands up and fires off a sole BUTT to the face. With Pretzler on his hands and knees, Zyon runs off the ropes perpendicular to him and hits a sliding dropkick to the side of the head! *CRACK!* Pretzler rolls over and kicks the canvas while he writhes in pain. Zyon follows it up with a quick elbow drop, then drags him to his feet and into the corner. He hopes onto the second rope and clamps on a front facelock. Pushing off, he spins into a half-revolution before falling to the mat and planting Pretzler with a Tornado DDT! *WHAM!* Reeling from the sudden offensive flurry, Pretzler does the only thing he can think of doing: he rolls under the bottom rope and out of the ring, where he begins to regain his senses. His eyes smolder with resentment as he rubs his head and stares up and his opponent. The referee begins the disqualifying twenty-count… ONE! TWO! …and Zyon suddenly runs to the edge of the ring, pulls back on the top rope, and slingshots into the air with a three-sixty corkscrew body press! ‘YEEEEAAAAHHHH!’ *WHUMP!* His fall is cushioned by the body of Pretzler, which lands hard on the padded floor beneath him. Standing up, he twirls his hands rapidly as a signal to the audience, who respond with a chant. ‘ZYYYYY-ON!’ ‘ZYYYYY-ON!’ He lifts Pretzler up with a grunt and rolls him back into the ring. Sliding in after him, he makes a forceful cover. ONE! TWO! Kickout! “And Zyon is off to a spectacular start,” Pete says breathlessly. “Already getting the audience behind him and scoring a two-count over the Cruiserweight Champion.” “He’d better not exhaust all of his big moves too early,” King comments, “or he will find himself at the mercy of the Snowflake Clutch. And that’s not a place you want to be.” Knowing that any change of pace will be an opening for Pretzler, Zyon immediately gets up and hits a standing somersault legdrop to the downed champion. He rolls to his feet and hits a traditional legdrop, then rolls back again and hits a doublestomp to the chest, clenching his fists tightly as he does so. In a cocky display, he kicks his legs back and falls into a cover, looking up at the crowd and nodding with each count as Pretzler is pinned beneath him. ONE! TWO! NO! Pretzler kicks out again, his frustration clearly visible. Zyon stomps on him and hops up to the second rope, but Pretzler rolls out of the ring again to avoid whatever is coming. The distance between them is too great for another dive, so Zyon climbs down and is about to exit the ring… when Pretzler reaches under the bottom rope and grabs him by the ankle, yanking violently. Zyon falls onto his back and his head smacks the mat as Pretzler pulls him out of the ring. As soon as they are both on the floor… *WHAM!* …Pretzler hits him with a stiff elbow to the face. ONE! TWO! He shoves the young lightweight against the ring apron and pounds away with several hard forearm shots. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, the Critic executes an Irish Whip with authority – right into the steel ring steps! *BONK!* Zyon collides shoulder-first with the unforgiving structure. Satisfied with the turn of events, Pretzler leans against the apron and catches his breath. The referee’s count continues. [/i][/i]THREE! FOUR![/i][/i] Before Zyon can fully stand up, Pretzler grabs him by the collar of his shirt and shoves him against the guardrail. He hits a stinging knife-edged chop. *SMACK!* ‘WOOOOOOOOO!’ Zyon sags forward, but Pretzler shoves his head back so he’s standing up straight and unloads another chop. *SMACK!* ‘WOOOOOOOOO!’ And another! *SMACK!* ‘WOOOOOOOOO!’ SEVEN! EIGHT! His rage subsiding, he heaves Zyon bodily under the bottom rope and climbs onto the apron and into the ring. Zyon is already struggling to his feet… so Pretzler moves in behind him and slaps on a side headlock. The challenger tries to fight it with an elbow to the midsection, but Pretzler clasps his hands together and pulls Zyon toward him so the distance between them is lessened. He sinks down to his knees. The Unique Youth is now in an even more compromising position. “Zyon is now exactly where Pretzler wants him,” King explains. “With his opponent immobile, Pretzler can work the neck as much as he pleases without putting his own body at risk.” Looking for a way out, Zyon wraps his arms around Pretzler’s waist and tries to lift him into a back drop… but the Canadian’s kneeling position gives him too much leverage, and Zyon lacks the strength to pick him up from here. ‘BOOOOOOOO-RING!’ ‘BOOOOOOOO-RING!’ Pretzler grins and shakes his head knowingly. As Zyon hits him with a clubbing forearm to the back in an effort to break the hold, the Critic flips him over onto his back, now grounding him completely. Leaning inward, Pretzler pins his shoulders to the mat. ONE! TWO! NO! Zyon kicks out and tries to sit up, but Pretzler uses the still-secure headlock to shove him back down. He leans into a cover again… so overzealously that Zyon is able to use his momentum to drag him into a pinning cradle of his own! ONE! TWO! NO! Pretzler pops out of the cradle and rolls to his feet, horrified at being caught off-guard by his opponent. Zyon tries to capitalize with a hurracanrana, but Pretzler elbows him in the face before he can pull himself all the way up. The Critic then attempts to apply another headlock, only for Zyon to slip behind him and hit a jumping back heel kick. ‘YEEEEAAAAHHHH!’ The impact knocks Pretzler onto his stomach. Standing up, Zyon wrenches his arm, spins around, and flips him into a La Majistral! ONE! TWO! Kickout! “For the second time in a row, Zyon manages to catch the champion in a surprise roll-up,” Pete notes. “Pretzler had better stay calm, though, or he’ll end up making even bigger mistakes.” “Pretzler is always calm,” King replies flatly. “And he never makes mistakes.” “Well, I’ll have you know that Zyon has given me his personal s that he will become Cruisercore Champion here tonight.” “Cruisercore? Sounds like some ghastly form of heavy metal music.” Even more frustrated, Pretzler swings wildly with a lariat after escaping the cradle – only for Zyon to duck under it and roll him up with a schoolboy! ONE! TWO! THR—NO! After being pinned for the third time in a row, Pretzler decides not to take the risk of standing up. Instead, he stays crouched with one knee hovering above the ground, ready to catch whatever Zyon throws at him next. The challenger notices this and hesitates before making another move… instead, he looks to the audience and claps, drawing more cheers. But this cocky display only serves to endanger him. Pretzler shoots up to his feet and throws himself at the legs of the young junior heavyweight, tackling him forcefully and slamming him against the mat. After scissoring Zyon’s right arm between his legs, the champion clamps on a grounded neck lock and leans back, instantly putting pressure on his vertebrae. Zyon cries out and reaches behind him with his left hand, searching for the ropes… ‘LET’S GO ZY-ON!’ ‘LET’S GO ZY-ON!’ His right arm would be close enough to reach them, but Pretzler’s scissor hold renders it immobile. The Canadian pulls back further… a needle of pain shoots down Zyon’s spine. The Unique Youth plants his feet against the mat and bridges up. Pretzler, however, uses his firm hold on the challenger’s neck to force him flat onto his back again. Now Zyon curls his legs back, nearly pinning himself, and catches Pretzler’s head between them. The Critic jerks his head to the side and frees himself, but Zyon aggressively pursues the headscissors and ensnares him on the second attempt. “Now both men are tied up!” Pete exclaims. Zyon slowly begins to straighten out his body. Pretzler remains dedicated to the neck lock, so he finds his own neck being bent backwards as Zyon uncurls. He tries to hold on… but the strain on his neck gives him no choice but to release the submission move. ‘YEEEAAAHHH!’ After powering out of the hold successfully, Zyon moves back into the corner where he nurses his wounded neck. The intensely focused Pretzler is unwilling to give quarter, though, and he charges with another lariat… only to be met with a boot to the face by the recovering Zyon. This deters him only momentarily, and he leaps off the ground before driving his boots into the jaw of the challenger. *CRACK!* “Best dropkick in the business!” hollers King. Pretzler drags Zyon back toward the center of the ring and covers him with a secure half nelson pin. ONE! TWO! NO! As soon as Zyon kicks out, Pretzler slides over to his head and tries to scissor the right arm for another neck lock. Zyon has learned his lesson, however, and he kicks his legs out again to flip out of Pretzler’s grasp. Slipping behind the Critic, he hits a quick right kick to the back, followed by one from the left leg. He runs off the ropes as Pretzler stands and jumps high off the ground, his feet shooting out at the champion’s chest. Pretzler tries to sidestep it, but his reflexes have been dulled by the sudden strikes… and the impact of the “Snap” dropkick against his chest is resounding. *SMACK!* Once he lands, Zyon kips up in a burst of energy! ‘YEEEEAAAAHHHH!’ However, he immediately stumbles, reaches back and clutches his neck. “Uh-oh,” Pete says in a hushed tone. “Zyon seems to be feeling the effects of that neck submission and dropkick… rather unexpectedly.” “It just goes to show you how pointless and dangerous his flip-flopping really is. Pretzler is smart enough not to bother with such nonsense, which is why he’s going to win.” Despite the sudden twinge of pain, Zyon has no trouble grabbing Pretzler’s legs and flipping over into a jackknife pin! ONE! TWO! THR—NO! The hold fails to keep Pretzler down, so Zyon bounds off the ropes to deliver another high-impact attack – and is stopped by a blow to the stomach from the recovering Pretzler. Determined to quash his opponent’s comeback fort the final time, Pretzler stands up and applies a front facelock… but Zyon breaks it with a knee to the gut. Next, he seizes Pretzler’s right arm and uses his own right to pull Pretzler off his feet and down to the mat in a reverse Russian leg sweep! “Decline! Zyon hit the Decline!” Pete climaxes. Zyon rolls over. The move took a lot out of him as well. Crawling over to the ropes, Zyon rolls on to apron and stands up – Pretzler is lying on the mat about six feet away from him. He pulls back on the ropes and leaps to the top, then springboards off with a high-speed guillotine leg drop to the throat of the champion! Pretzler convulses under his weight and he makes another cover. ONE! TWO! THR—NO! It’s still not enough to keep the wily Ontarian down. Zyon senses that the pendulum has swung in his favor, though, and he drags Pretzler over to the corner so his legs and head are mere inches from the ropes. Then he climbs onto the apron again and heads to the top rope. “Zyon could be looking for the Dawn,” says Pete, “otherwise know as the 450 Splash. It could very well be the icing on the cake in what has been a spectacular showing here tonight…” But Pretzler has other plans. He struggles to his feet and, before Zyon can reach the third rope, climbs to the second rope inside the ring and elbows him in the face! Zyon is not deterred and responds with a slap to the chest followed by an elbow of his own! Pretzler stumbles and falls off the turnbuckle… but is back up immediately and unloads a knife-edged chop that’s as stiff as his lean form can muster. *SMACK!* ‘WOOOOOOOOOO!’ Zyon recoils, but does not fall just yet. Instead, he drives a vertical elbow straight down onto Pretzler’s cranium. Again, the Critic loses his balance. ‘YEEEEAAAAHHHH!’ Now Zyon manages to put one foot on the top turnbuckle… and no sooner has he done so than Pretzler EXPLODES upward with European Uppercut! *SMACK!* The challenger’s head snaps back as he loses his grip and tumbles to the floor! ONE! Referee Hardcastle begins the twenty-count that will disqualify Zyon from the contest. TWO! Rather than diving out or even leaving the ring at all, Pretzler waits patiently for Zyon to recover near the announcers’ table. THREE! Zyon stirs. The combination of the uppercut and the fall has hurt him considerably. In the ring, Pretzler looks down and fiddles with his kneepads, making sure that they are fastened on tightly and are in the right place. He smoothes his hair out. ‘PRETZLER SUCKS!’ FOUR! ‘PRETZLER SUCKS!’ Zyon stands up and heads for the ring apron – and Pretzler makes his move. Charging forward, he grabs the top rope to restrain himself as his legs shoot through the ropes and hit Zyon in the face with a baseball slide! *WHUMP!* The challenger is thrown off his feet by the collision. He lands on the floor with a thud, FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! Still, Pretzler remains in the ring. He cracks his knuckles in an exaggerated fashion, each joint making its own inaudible *POP!* The groggy Zyon pulls himself to his feet with the aid of the table and slowly makes his way back toward the ring. And in a repeat performance, Pretzler hits him with a baseball slide to the face! *WHUMP!* Zyon topples. Pretzler rolls up to his feet and applauds himself with a loud, obnoxious clap. EIGHT! NINE! “Ha! This is brilliant!” King chortles. “Pretzler could do this all night – except he doesn’t have to, because the count only goes to twenty!” TEN! ELEVEN! Zyon recovers more slowly this time, stumbling and falling before catching himself on the guardrail. His face is red from both swelling and humiliation. He begins walking toward the ring a third time… and sure enough, Pretzler runs toward the ropes and throws himself into a baseball slide! *WHOOOOOSH!* …And hits nothing but air as Zyon ducks under the attack! ‘YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!’ TWELVE! Pretzler is alarmed at having his strategy foiled, but has little time to pout as Zyon grabs hold of his legs and drags him out of the ring. Though his arms spread out instinctively to break the fall, he is quickly left at the mercy of the Unique Youth, who takes a step forward and boots him roughly in the face. THIRTEEN! With Pretzler sitting slumped against the ring apron, Zyon hits him with another hard kick to keep him still, then climbs onto the announce table and turns to face him. “What the hell is he doing up here?” King grumbles. “Hey, jerkoff, you’re blocking my view!” Zyon has no intention of remaining on the table. He steadies himself, locks eyes with Pretzler… and jumps off! *CRACK!* “MISSILE DROPKICK FROM THE TABLE!” Pete roars. “Sweet Mother of Mercy!” Unprotected by any foreign object, Pretzler’s face appears to have shattered beneath the blow. He sags onto his side and curls up into a fetal position. Zyon sits up, breathing heavily. ‘HOLY SHIT!’ ‘HOLY SHIT!’ “Indeed!” Pete declares. “That was almost a Van Terminator!” “A Van Whozawhatsit?” asks King with puzzlement. “Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gradually, Zyon backs up until he is touching the table, which he uses to assist himself in standing. He reaches down and loops his arms under the drooping shoulders of Pretzler, trying desperately to haul him to his feet before the count expires. SIXTEEN! He tugs… SEVENTEEN! Pretzler moans. Zyon pulls him up halfway… EIGHTEEN! He rolls the Critic under the bottom rope and into a heap in the ring… NINETEEN! “No! Not this way!” …And slides in himself just before the count can expire! The audience breathes a collective sigh of relieve as Zyon trudges on his hands and knees and collapses on top of Pretzler. ONE! TWO!! THREE—NO!!! Still not enough! Zyon smacks his forehead when the reality of it hits him. He rolls off Pretzler and stands shakily, his fists clenched. “The time between the impact of the dropkick and the actual pin attempt was just too much,” Pete points out. “But if Zyon can hit him with a similar move inside the ring, this could very well be over.” “Horsefeathers,” King spits, substituting a television-friendly expression for the much-preferred obscenity. “Zyon’s offense has all the sting of an arthritic butterfly.” Leaning against the corner post, Zyon eyes the ropes on the opposite end of the ring. Pretzler begins to stand, holding his head the entire time and shaking it to clear the cobwebs out. He pauses while kneeling, and Zyon moves in to set him up for his trademark cradle piledriver. Pretzler, however, elbows him weakly as soon as he gets close. He tries to muscle the Critic into a standing headscissors, but Pretzler elbows him away again, doing the best he can to stave off defeat. “Pretzler knows how deadly the Final Hour can be,” Pete observes. “And he’ll stop at nothing to avoid it.” Zyon backs up and makes a sudden course correction. He runs toward the section of the ropes he had previously glanced at, bounding off his feet and onto the middle rope. The rope is depressed under his weight, then springs back up, and as it does he takes flight, soaring toward Pretzler with a beautiful moonsault attack… ‘OOOOOOOOH!’ …But as they make contact, Pretzler wraps both arms tightly around the lightweight’s body and braces his feet against the mat, stopping Zyon’s descent. “He caught him!” King screeches, ecstatic. “Pretzler caught Zyon!” No sooner has he done so than he kneels down abruptly, dropping the challenger on his head with a tombstone! He makes a lateral press. ONE! TWO! THREE—NO!! The referee’s hand is hair’s breadth from the mat when Zyon’s shoulder suddenly rises up to a thunderous ovation! ‘YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!’ Pretzler was expecting this, however. When he is certain Zyon has kicked out, he stands and lifts the youth’s torso off the canvas. Seizing both wrists, he crosses one arm over the other and starts to turn Zyon over. “Snowflake Clutch! Finally!” Zyon writhes and fights wildly, twisting inward toward Pretzler and kicking against the mat. He plants his feet down and bridges up, while Pretzler struggles frantically to force him back down. Zyon reaches vertical base! But his arms are still crossed, and Pretzler knees him sharply in the back, causing him to deflate and fall again. Now Pretzler redoubles his efforts to apply the clutch… but Zyon fights on! ‘LET’S GO ZY-ON!’ He bridges up once more, and this time he spins around aggressively so the crossface halo is inverted and both men are face to face. Pretzler still holds him by the wrists, though it is now his arms that are twisted uncomfortably. The Canadian rotates his arms so they are straight. Then he ducks his head under Zyon’s shoulder and flips him over with a waterwheel takedown! *WHAM!* Still holding onto the arms, he turns over and drags Zyon up to his feet again. A knee to the gut sets the Unique Youth up for a standing headscissors. Grunting with exertion, Pretzler locks his arms around Zyon’s waist and heaves him off the ground and onto his shoulders. He leans back ever so slightly as his muscles tense, then whips Zyon’s body down toward the mat— *CRASH!* —And is spiked on his head as the Wildbomb is reversed in mid-move into a thunderous DDT! The champion seems to hang upside-down in the air for a moment, then crumples onto his side, unmoving, as Zyon makes the cover. ONE! TWO! THRE—NO!! Despite the suddenness of the reversal, Pretzler summons the energy to kick out. Both men lie there, gasping for breath, too drained to make a move… but Zyon has one more trick up his sleeve. Trembling, he stands and peels Pretzler off the mat. He bends the Canadian over and places him in a standing headscissors. He pumps his fist into the air and reaches down, wrapping his arms around Pretzler’s stomach. “The Final Hour!” shouts Pete. “If he hits this, the Final Flash could be next… and no one gets up from that!” Pretzler knows this too, and he splays his legs out as a protective measure, giving himself a wider base and rendering Zyon unable to lift him. At the same time, he reaches his arms around the challenger’s legs and holds on. Zyon heaves with all of his strength, but the champion won’t give in. Come on… *WHACK!* He brings a clubbing forearm down on Pretzler’s back! The champion jars, and Zyon heaves him off his feet… but Pretzler curls his legs inward and then whips them downward again. Before Zyon can make another attempt at the cradle piledriver, Pretzler stands up and throws him overhead in a back body toss! Zyon bounces off the mat and staggers to his feet, and Pretzler is waiting for him. Seeing Zyon stand, the Canadian runs off the ropes and charges… ‘YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!’ …Right into hiptoss… ‘OOOOOOOOOH!’ …Turned into a neckbreaker in midair! “DIIIIIIISCOOOONNEEEECT!” Pete screams. “How in God’s name did he pull that off?!” Zyon reaches back and hooks Pretzler’s leg for the cover! ONE! TWO!! THREE—NO!!! At the very last instant, Pretzler powers out. Zyon pounds the mat in frustration. So close! But Pretzler doesn’t have much left. Zyon stands, points toward the corner and performs the same spinning hand gesture as he did earlier in the match. ‘LET’S GO ZY-ON!’ His joints aching, Pretzler starts to sit up to keep Zyon from reaching his destination. Then he suddenly changes his mind and lies completely flat. His back turned to the champion, Zyon fails to notice this strange behavior. ‘LET’S GO ZY-ON!’ With Pretzler lying prone on the canvas at a diagonal angle, Zyon steps onto the apron. He ascends to the first rope… then to the second… then to the top. He stands. Keeping his body completely vertical, he recklessly leaps from the third rope, his body slowly tilting downward as he hurtles toward Pretzler with… “THE… FINAL… FL—“ But just before contact, Pretzler rolls out of the way! *WHUMP!* Zyon’s shoulder blades hit nothing except hard, uncompromising canvas! Pretzler remains on his back for a moment, then crawls over to Zyon. He pulls the challenger into a seated position and crosses both arms into an ‘X’ over his chest. Zyon is too stunned to fight it as Pretzler flips him onto his stomach and straddles his back. The Snowflake Clutch is locked in! “Do you submit?” Zyon kicks at the mat. He thrashes and twists from side to side, trying desperately to escape… but he is immobile. “Do you submit?” “NO!” Pretzler leans back. Zyon’s neck feels like it’s about to snap… his entire back burns from Wildchild’s attack last week. Too much… “Do you submit?” “N—NO!” Not again. Can’t give up again… But there is nowhere else to go. No escape. “Do you submit?” “N—Yeeeeesssss!” *DING DING DING!* “Here is your winner, and STIIIIIIILL SWF Cruiserweight Champion… SCOTT PUUUUH-REEETZLEEEER!” Upon hearing the bell, Pretzler releases the hold and slumps over. The referee hands him the belt and he stands, holding it above his head, while his hand is raised in victory. He looks down at Zyon, still clutching his neck in pain. He considers leaving the ring… then bends over and shakes his opponent’s hand unceremoniously. ‘BOOOOOOOOOOO!’ He nods and exits the ring. After a while the referee assists Zyon in standing. His neck is still consumed by pain, but he manages to pull himself up to his feet with the aid of the ropes. He leans against the turnbuckle and catches his breath. Hardcastle hands him the Hardcore Gamers’ belt, which he raises proudly above his head. ‘ZYYYYYYY-ON!’ ‘ZYYYYYYY-ON!’ “Tonight, Scott Pretzler walks out as champion,” says Pete. “But I think it's safe to say that Zyon has proven himself a more than worthy contender!” Edited July 7, 2005 by Ace309 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted July 7, 2005 “Well fans, it’s main event time,” Longdogger Pete exclaims, “and what a main event it’s going to be! On Smarkdown we saw Toxxic and Danny Williams clash in the first-ever meeting of two three-time World Champions, and now Lockdown sees the second as Toxxic goes head-to-head with El Luchadore Magnifico!” “Honestly, I don’t know who I want to win this,” King admits. “Toxxic’s not the cowardly border-runner that Magnifico is, but then again Magnifico didn’t bad-mouth both Tom Flesher and Scott Pretzler earlier in the show. I’m sort of torn.” “Not in half, unfortunately,” Pete snaps uncharitably, but the commentator’s bickering is cut off as the familiar opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire rolls out across the Stockholm Globe Arena for the second time this evening and the Smarktron whites out. As always, it fades swiftly down to black as jagged white letters flash up the well-known catchphrase: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Well, the Swedish fans certainly got behind Toxxic earlier,” LDP comments as the main riff starts up, “but I think we’ll have to wait and see how positive they remain when he squares off against a bona fide fan favourite in El Luchadore Magnifico!” The Smarktron flashes up images of Toxxic’s career (the All-Show Brawl highlights now edited out in respect for the deceased Insane Luchador), culminating in the Toxxic Shock Syndrome that takes Mike Van Siclen off the balcony and through the table, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the stagewide explosion of red pyro- *BOOOM!!* -that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! For a moment nothing can be seen through the haze of smoke and pyro after-image, but then a spiky-haired shape comes tearing through and sprints down to the ring at top speed! A few Swedes throw out their hands as the human missile passes and are rewarded by a brief slap from the Straight-Edge Sensation’s black-nailed fingers, but then Toxxic slides in under the bottom rope and pops right up in front of Funyon (who still hasn’t got used to this yet). “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and it tonight’s MAIN EVENT~!” the ring announcer booms. “Introducing first, from Nottingham, England; weighing in at 218lbs, he is a former three-time World Champion who has held the belt for a total of 201 days; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” As Funyon finishes Toxxic steps into the middle of the ring, then suddenly throws his arms wide as the verse comes in to send a blast of red pyro skywards from each ringpost! *bap-bap* *BOOOM!!* ‘I never thought this could be me I guess you never do until it’s happening to you Like all the fun turned into shame And all the ‘could-have-beens’ rearrange…’ Toxxic strips off his customised England soccer shirt and throws it into the front row where two heavily-eyelinered girls in black metal T-shirts surreptitiously fight over it. Meanwhile the straight-edger cracks his neck from side-to-side and moves over the corner of the ring where he hops up onto the top rope and stretches out as if in a hammock, awaiting his opponent. “UNO!” *BOOM!* “DOS!” *BOOM!* “TRES!” *BOOM!* “CUATRO!” *BOOM!* “RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” As a stereotypical Mexican voice shouts the above numbers, a burst of pyro explodes upwards from each turnbuckle in time with each shouted word, signaling the entrance of El Luchadore Magnifico! The excited fans cheer fiercely, and only grow louder when the man himself bursts out from behind the curtain, grinning happily and waving his Mexican Flag with unmistakable pride. ELM stops on the stage and poses, cueing tens of thousands of Swedes to whip out their cameras and snap pictures of the lively luchadore. “And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds, he is also a former three-time World Heavyweight Champion who has held the belt for a total of 208 days...” Funyon takes a breath, “EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOO!!” Upon hearing his name, Magnifico breaks his pose and strides down the entrance ramp, slapping as many fans’ hands as he can as he does so. Once ELM reaches the ring, he rolls beneath its bottom rope and immediately pops to his feet, shooting a quick glance at Toxxic as he does so. Toxxic doesn’t move an inch but returns the glance, and continues to watch the luchadore as he hops onto the nearby corner’s second turnbuckle and resumes his flag waving. Once he’s done sucking as much heat as possible from the capacity crowd, he hops off of the turnbuckles and walks towards the ref to hand him his flag. In the meantime, Toxxic rolls off of the ropes and lands on the mat, getting in a few quick stretches while Magnifico does the same across the ring. Seeing that everything is in order, the ref signals towards the timekeeper, ready to get this match started. *DING DING DING!* “Maybe not quite as historic a contest as Toxxic versus Williams,” LDP begins, “But I’m sure this is going to be a fantastic match regardless.” “Yeah, just great.” King snidely replies. “A cockney Flesher-hating git versus a filthy Mexican who’s past his prime. Better set up the Tivo for this one, folks.” “God, you’re a dick.” LDP declares. “Anyway, both ELM and Toxxic are Three-Time World Champions. Not a guarantee of an amazing match, but as close to one as you’ll find.” Magnifico and Toxxic continue to loosen up as they walk around the ring, keeping their eyes locked on each other as they do so. As this non-verbal, non-violent exchange drags on, the fans begin to clap in unison, their anticipation for this match finally coming to a head. After a few seconds, fourteen thousand Swedes clap in unison, creating a thunderous noise that causes Toxxic and Magnifico to grin despite themslves. Suddenly, both men lunge at each other, locking up in the center of the ring as the crowd cheers triumphantly, their clapping in unison having paid off! After a second of struggling, ELM pulls Toxxic into a Side Headlock and begins wrenching away at his neck. That only lasts a moment, though, as Toxxic steps backwards and into the ropes, pulling Magnifico with him as he does so. Toxxic bounces off of the ropes and uses the momentum to shove ELM forward, which breaks Magnifico’s grip and sends him rushing across the ring. Magnifico bounces off of the far ropes and charges back towards Toxxic, who reacts by lashing his leg out, looking to slam it into ELM’s face with a Spinning Heel Kick! Magnifico hits the ground and rolls beneath Toxxic’s leg, then pops back to his feet and spins to face his opponent. Unfortunately for Magnifico, Toxxic’s ready for him, as he landed on his feet and drives his knee forward to slam it into ELM’s gut! ELM doubles over in the center of the ring, allowing Toxxic to easily pull him into a Front Headlock. Toxxic lifts Magnifico into the air, but ELM almost immediately wriggles out of his grip, landing on his feet behind Toxxic but facing the opposite direction as him. As soon as he’s on the mat, Magnifico reaches back and hooks Toxxic’s arms! “Magnifico’s got Toxxic in position for a Baja California Crusher!” LDP cries, surprised. “ELM’s trying to end this match right here and now!” The crowd releases an anticipatory pop...which fades somewhat when Magnifico falls to his knees and bends down, dragging Toxxic with him and pinning his shoulders to the mat with a Backslide! Toxxic struggles wildly to escape as the ref slides into position, beginning his count while the fans roar their approval once more! ONE... TWO...No! Toxxic breaks free of Magnifico’s grip, falls to the mat, and immediately pops to his feet. ELM does the same, but as soon as he stands, Toxxic steps forward and nails him with a European Uppercut! “So, Pete, you were only completely wrong.” King remarks, happy to point out his partner’s misakes. “In any case, Toxxic punishes Magnifico for that ridiculous Backslide, rattling his jaw with a beautiful Uppercut.” Stunned, ELM stumbles backwards and into the ropes, which keep him standing as he tries to shake off the effects of the Uppercut. Toxxic casually walks up to Magnifico, grabs him by the arm, and whips him across the ring. ELM rushes towards the far ropes, bounces off of them, and charges back towards Toxxic, who responds by driving his head into Magnifico’s face with a vicious Headbutt! The fans OHHHH! as one, surprised and concerned, as ELM once again collapses against a set of ropes, this time holding his smashed-in nose and hoping that it isn’t bleeding. With Magnifico vulnerable and up against the ropes, Toxxic drives his fist forward and into ELM’s gut, beginning his World Famous Punch and Discus Combo! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! V SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGN!! “RAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Listen to this crowd!” Pete commands, surprised. “Toxxic’s slowly but surely winning them over, and he’s loving every second of it!” Smiling at the crowd’s reponse, Toxxic winds up, spins around, drives his arm at the luchadore...and misses! The luchadore pushes himself off of the ropes and ducks under Toxxic’s arm! Because of this, Toxxic falls onto the ropes, carried into them by his misguided momentum. Scowling, Toxxic turns towards Magnifico...just in time to see the luchadore sidestep towards and drive his foot forward for a Superkick! ELM executes the Superkick perfectly, slamming his foot directly into Toxxic’s chin! The surprised fans cheer happily as Toxxic, driven over the top rope by the force of the kick, tumbles helplessly to the outside. “Bah, you can’t judge Toxxic’s popularity by what these damn Swedes do.” King declares, annoyed. “They cheer for Toxxic’s combo one second, then cheer him getting Superkicked to the outside the next. Let’s just follow my example and hate them both equally.” Toxxic begins pushing himself to his feet on the outside, struggling to shake off the effects of the nasty fall he just took. After a few seconds, Toxxic reaches his feet and turns towards the ring...just in time to see Magnifico diving through the ropes at him! ELM makes pefect contact with the Suicide Dive, slamming his entire body into Toxxic’s as the fans cheer excitedly! Both men tumble to the floor, a heap of arms and legs, as the ref begins his count inside the ring. Meanwhile, Magnifico begins pushing himself to his feet, leaving a stunned Toxxic on the floor beneath him. ONE... “Beautiful Suicide Dive from Magnifico!” LDP announces. “After some trouble early, ELM’s taken control of this match!” Once ELM is standing, he grabs Toxxic by the arm and pulls him to his feet. Magnifco then uses his grip to try and whip Toxxic towards the guardrails, but Toxxic reverses it! ELM rushes across the floor and towards the guardrail, while Toxxic runs after him. TWO... But as Magnifico approaches the guardrail, he suddenly leaps into the air and lands on top of it, struggling to keep his balance on the precarious surface. Surprised, Toxxic skids to a halt behind the luchadore, doing so as Magnifico leaps backwards off of the guardrail, flipping as he does so and flying at Toxxic with a Moonsault Press! THREE... ELM is upside down and perpendicular to the ground when Toxxic leaps into the air and kicks his feet out, driving them into Magnifico’s gut with a Flipping Dropkick and shooting him out of the sky! As the surprised yet impressed fans OHHH! simultaneously, ELM unceremoniously falls to the ground, landing hard on his shoulders and upper back. “Goddamn, nicely done!” King shouts, impressed despite himself. “That Dropkick couldn’t have been timed more perfectly!” “Absolutely.” LDP agrees with King, breaking his tradition of not doing just that. “Toxxic hit the Dropkick just in time to counter the press and assure that ELM’s fall would be about as painful as possible.” FOUR... Toxxic pops back to his feet as Magnifico remains off of his, clutching his gut as he lies on the floor, his body racked with pain. Toxxic grabs Magnifico and slowly gets him to his feet, receiving no help from the limp luchadore. Once ELM is standing, Toxxic leads him over to the ring post and pulls him towards the ring post, slamming Magnifico’s head into it! With ELM dazed, Toxxic is able to easily pull him into a Reverse Headlock. FIVE... Toxxic holds Magnifico like that for a second...before dropping to one knee, looking to slam his other knee into ELM’s neck with a Reverse Headlock Neckbreaker! However, when Toxxic tries to pull ELM down, the luchadore refuses to budge! Puzzled, Toxxic keeps pulling down on Magnifico’s neck...until he sees ELM gripping the bottom rope, which is preventing Toxxic from pulling him anywhere! SIX... “Very smart move on Magnifico’s part.” LDP notes. “So long as he’s holding onto that rope, Toxxic won’t be able to land either part of the Detoxx combo!” “Yeah, until Toxxic realizes what he’s doing.” King counters. “And, hey, guess what? He just did.” Annoyed, Toxxic releases the Rear Headlock, realizing that he’s not gonna land anything with ELM holding that rope. To remedy that, he yanks ELM’s hands off of the rope, then uses his grip to whip the luchadore across the floor and towards the far ringpost! But as Magnifico approaches the post, he wraps his arms around it and uses his momentum to swing up and around, under the bottom rope and into the ring! Growing more frustrated by the second, Toxxic dives under the bottom rope after him as ELM pops to his feet on the other side of the ring. Magnifico charges towards Toxxic as he stands, and as soon as he’s on his feet, ELM throws a Running Knee into Toxxic’s gut! Not wasting any time, Magnifico immediately pulls the doubled over Toxxic into a Front Headlock, right before grabbing and hooking his leg! ELM then lifts Toxxic into the air and falls backwards, slamming Toxxic’s neck into the canvas with the Barrio Buster! The fans’ reaction is actually fairly divided as Toxxic lays out on the mat, virtually motionless. He’s only like this for a moment, though, as ELM immediately rolls onto Toxxic and hooks his leg, doing so as the ref slides into position. ONE... TWO...No! Toxxic gets a shoulder up, drawing an impressive wave of cheers from the capacity crowd. “Extremely clever strategy from Magnifico.” LDP announces. “ELM correctly believed that Toxxic would dive right in after him, and he took advantage of it.” “And if you ask me, he’s displeased about eighteen thousand Swedes in the process.” King observes, looking out over the audience. “They were already getting behind Toxxic, and that cowardly move on Magnifico’s part only helped move that along.” “It wasn’t cowardly, King.” LDP counters, annoyed. “He simply took advantage of-“ “Hey, Pete.” King interrupts. “Remember who you’re talking to. I know cowardly when I see it, bub.” Undeterred by the lack of a pinfall, ELM rolls off of Toxxic and grabs the Straight-Edge Sensation by the arm. Magnifico then stands, pulling Toxxic to his feet with him. ELM uses his grip to whip Toxxic across the ring, towards the far corner. Magnifico runs after Toxxic, only a few steps behind him as he approaches the corner. Because of this, ELM is forced to stop dead in his tracks when Toxxic leaps onto the top turnbuckle! Toxxic then jumps backwards off of the turnbuckle and corkscrews his body around, flying towards Magnifico with a Role Reversal Flying Clothesline! Toxxic’s arm slams into ELM’s chest, knocking him onto his back as the fans cheer for the impressive maneuver! Toxxic lands back-first on the mat and lays there for a moment, only a couple feet from his incapacitated opponent. “Well, Toxxic may have succeeded in landing the Role Reversal.” King begins. “But he doesn’t look any better off for it. In fact-“ Without warning, Toxxic suddenly kicks his legs out and kips up, instantly getting to his feet as the pleased fans cheer as one! “...never mind.” King grumbles. Toxxic smiles at the crowd’s reaction as he looks over at the luchadore, who lies motionless on the canvas. After a second’s thought, Toxxic heads over to the corner once more and begins ascending its turnbuckles, keeping the crowd cheering in anticipation. Once Toxxic is on the top turnbuckle, he looks over the capacity crowd, many of whom are on their feet, anxious to see what Toxxic has planned. They need only wait a second, as Toxxic suddenly leaps off of the top turnbuckle, flipping backwards as he does so! Thousands of flashbulbs illluminate the entire ring as Toxxic falls towards towards the luchadore, looking to crush him with a Moonsault! However, ELM is intent on disappointing him, as the luchadore rolls out of the way just in time, leaving Toxxic to crash chest-first into the canvas! The ring shakes with the impact of Toxxic hitting the mat as the disappointed fans collectively OHHHHH! Toxxic bounces off of the canvas and immediately curls up, every part of his body screaming in pain. “No! Toxxic misses with the Moonsault!” LDP cries. “He took a big risk in trying for it, and unfortunately for him it didn’t pay off!” “Just as well.” King replies, “I’m surprised Toxxic’s flippy-floppy Flying Clothesline kept the Mexican down as long as he was in the first place.” Magnifico and Toxxic lay face down on the mat, mere feet from each other as they recover from their respective injuries. The crowd’s determined to get them back on their feet, though, and express their desire through cheers, as per usual. “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M! E!L!M! E!L!M!” The fans chant for the wrestler they’ve decided to back, and only grow louder as both men begin struggling to their feet. They move at nearly the same speed, and reach their feet at virtually the same time! As soon as he’s standing, Magnifico lashes out with a quick right, only to have Toxxic immediately return it! The fans stop chanting and just flat-out cheer as ELM and Toxxic begin brawling in the center of the ring, exchanging blows with unbelievable ferocity! After a few seconds, Toxxic gets the upper hand, landing a quick combination of punches and knocking ELM back a few steps. With Magnifico reeling, Toxxic is able to grab the luchadore by the arm and whip towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of said ropes, while Toxxic runs at the luchadore and dives at his legs, feet first! Toxxic’s feet slam directly into Magnifico’s shins, flipping him forward as he falls to the mat! The impressed fans OHHHH! once more as ELM tumbles to the mat, doing so while Toxxic pops back to his. “Fantastic Soccer Tackle from Toxxic, and you know what’s coming up next!” LDP announces. “Once Magnifico is on his feet, Toxxic’s gonna try and end this match with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” “With any luck.” King counters. “I’ve gotta get out of this freaking country. I never thought I’d say this, but a guy can only take so much of blond haired, blue eyed girls.” As Toxxic pops back to his feet, Magnifico struggles to get back to his, deterred somewhat by his pained shins. As ELM rises, Toxxic patiently stands behind him, ready to strike as soon as the opportunity arises. Magnifico finally stands and turns towards Toxxic, who slams his boot into ELM’s gut! At least, that’s what he would have done, has Magnifico not grabbed Toxxic’s foot mid-kick! Toxxic hops on his free foot for only a moment, as ELM almost immediately uses his grip to spin the Straight-Edge Sensation three hundred and sixty degrees on one foot! Once Toxxic is facing Magnifico again, the luchadore ducks beneath one of his arms while grabbing him under the other one, setting him up for the Rio Grande Slam! ELM uses his grip to lift Toxxic into the air, before spinning around and falling to the mat, slamming Toxxic back-first and HARD into the canvas! The pleased fans release an impressive pop as the ring trembles with the impact of Toxxic being slammed into it. Right after landing the Suplex, Magnifico rolls onto Toxxic and hooks his leg, drawing the ref into position for the count. ONE... TWO... TH-Nooo!! Toxxic gets a shoulder up, drawing a disappointed OHHH! from half of the crowd and relieved cheers from the other. “No! Magnifico managed to reverse the Toxxic Shock Syndrome into the Rio Grande Slam, but it wasn't enough to keep Toxxic down!” LDP exitedly reports. “I’m mildly impressed. It looked like the Mexican actually had that move scouted.” King declares with an obvious air of authority. “Of course, Toxxic practically announces the move with a bullhorn when he does that Soccer Tackle.” Magnifico rolls off of Toxxic and sits up, his chest heaving. ELM takes a second to catch his breath before slowly standing up, wincing as he does so due to his still-sore shins. Once Magnifico is standing he grabs Toxxic and gets him to his feet, and then... *CRACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!!” Magnifico slices his arm against Toxxic’s chest, knocking him backwards and into the corner with a Knife-Edge Chop! ELM takes a step forward, and... *CRACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!!” ELM lands another Chop, and this one causes Toxxic to grip his stinging chest and slightly double over in pain. With Toxxic distracted, Magnifico is able to grab him by the arm, right before using his grip to try and whip Toxxic across the ring. Unfortunately for him, Toxxic manages to reverse the whip, sending ELM rushing towards the opposite corner. Unable to stop himself, Magnifico crashes chest-first into the corner’s turnbuckles! ELM stumbles backwards out of them, only to be clocked from behind by Toxxic, who slams his arm into the back of Magnifico’s neck with a Running Clothesline! Magnifico falls forward and into the corner, his chin resting on the top turnbuckle. “Ouch!” Pete cries, surprised. “ELM didn’t see that Clothesline coming at all and was just walloped with it!” “True ‘nough.” King replies, showing off his bad Southern accent as he does so. “And with the Mexican up against the corner, stunned, Toxxic’s in a position to do pretty much whatever he wants.” What Toxxic does decide to do is pull Magnifico a step out of the corner and into a Reverse Headlock. With ELM still in that grip, Toxxic suddenly falls to one knee and pulls him downwards, slamming Magnifico’s neck into his other knee! That’s not quite enough for Toxxic, though, as he stands back up with ELM still in the Reverse Headlock! Magnifico’s arms hang at his sides, limp and useless, as Toxxic falls on his back and drives ELM downward once more, this time slamming his neck into the canvas with a Reverse DDT! As the fans cheer excitedly for the devastating combo, Toxxic immediately covers the luchadore, not wanting to give him a second to recover. The ref slides into position and begins counting, doing so as Toxxic hooks Magnifico’s leg. ONE... TWO... THRE-Noooooo!! Magnifico throws his foot on the bottom rope, and the ref sees it right before his hand hits the mat a third time! Toxxic looks up for his cover and shouts at the ref, who throws up his hands defensively and point at ELM’s foot. Frustrated, Toxxic rolls off of the luchadore, who lies motionless on the canvas save for the rhythmic heaving of his chest. “Magnifico gets the foot on the rope just in time!” Pete shouts. “I’m not sure that ELM would have been able to kick out has Toxxic landed that move in the center of the ring.” “Of course he wouldn’t have, and that’s what pisses me off!” King sharply counters. “As much as I enjoy watching the Mexican get the hell beat out of him, I’ve really had quite enough of both of these guys for a long time.” With the Detoxx having failed, Toxxic seems to decide that it’s time to step things up a gear. He pulls ELM back to his feet and drags the wobbly Mexican to the middle of the ring, then swiftly twists Mags around until the Luchadore’s neck is resting on his shoulder before sitting out in a neckbreaker. As Magnifico holds his neck in pain Toxxic heads for the nearest turnbuckle before spinning his two index fingers over his head… backwards. “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Buckle up King, I think we could be about to see the Inglorious!” Longdogger Pete says as the Straight-Edge Sensation starts to climb. “Magnifico was famous for his Mexican Pride Press, but Toxxic’s added a legdrop on!” Sure enough, Toxxic straightens up atop the top turnbuckle and swings his arms forward for a little extra momentum before leaping off, backflipping as he goes… *WHAM!* …and he misses, as ELM rolls out of the way of the Shooting Star Legdrop at the last moment! Despite his evasive action Magnifico doesn’t seem to be in any position to capitalise, but Toxxic is in severe pain from his traumatised tailbone and can’t regain the advantage. With both men down, the Swedish fans begin chanting again… “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” “TOXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” “Come on, stay down,” King urges both men. “All it takes is a ten count and this can be over…” However, the two wrestlers in the ring are not inclined to comply with the Gambling Man’s request. ELM pushes himself up first, desperately trying to make it to his feet, but the sight of his opponent’s recovery galvanises Toxxic to start trying to regain a vertical base as well. “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” Magnifico is slightly quicker and he swings his arm back to deliver a stinging knife-edge chop to his opponent- *CRACK!* “WHOOOO!” -but although Toxxic staggers from the attack he hits back with a European uppercut! *WHAM!* The powerful forearm smash rocks the Mexican, but Toxxic is still in pain from his bad landing earlier and he can’t quite capitalise, allowing Magnifico to fire back- *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” Toxxic staggers again, but the dark-lined eyes narrow and he steps back in- *WHAM!* “Toxxic’s not one of the SWF’s greatest strikers, but I really don’t think El Luchadore Magnifico is going to be able to match up to him,” Pete comments as the Mexican wobbles again. “The Straight-Edge Sensation has proved that he can hang with pretty much anyone his own size, at least!” This prediction seems to be borne out as ELM doesn’t have a reply to the second European uppercut, allowing Toxxic to follow up with a third- *WHAM!* -before winding up in a manner similar to a baseball pitcher… “YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” *BANG!* …and nailing the Discus Clothesline! “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Grinning wearily, Toxxic hooks Magnifico’s far leg and tries to stack as much weight as possible onto the Mexican’s shoulders… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Magnifico kicks out again! Toxxic doesn’t seem happy with the lack of a three-count but doesn’t argue with the referee, instead pushing himself to his feet again and heading for the turnbuckles. Once more the Straight-Edge Sensation ascends to the top rope, this time raising both arms above his head for a little more ‘whip’ before somersaulting off, looking to land a leg across Magnifico’s throat with the Hangover… *BANG!* …but ELM moves again! “E!L!M!” “E!L!M!” “-and Toxxic just can’t land the telling blow!” Pete shouts as the Swedish crowd starts to swing in favour of the diminutive Mexican. “Despite the fact that he has largely abandoned his high-flying offence, El Luchador Magnifico knows enough about it to avoid the moves of even such a skilled practitioner as Toxxic!” “Please tell me these two aren’t going to dodge each other for the next hour,” King pleads. “If one of them has to win I’d pull for Toxxic, but I’d prefer a double countout in the next minute!” However, Magnifico isn’t content to wait for Toxxic to right himself again, this time rolling over and covering the pained Brit himself as the referee drops to count… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHH- -but Toxxic kicks out, thrusting one shoulder off the canvas! Magnifico lets out a yell of frustration, but something seems to have fired up the man from Mexico and he drags Toxxic up to his feet before chickenwinging the Brit’s arm behind his back, then grabbing his opponent’s head and dropping to his knees to deliver the Montezuma’s Revenge jawbreaker! “E!L!M!” “E!L!M!” Magnifico doesn’t even go for a cover after that move, instead grabbing Toxxic again and hauling the wincing straight-edger back up to his feet. This time ELM places his opponent in a double underhook and hoists with all his might, bringing the Straight-Edge Sensation nearly vertical before dropping straight down- *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Cancun Crunch, and El Luchadore Magnifico has really picked up his game!” Pete shouts as the legendary Mexican almost springs back to his feet, the rush of adrenaline in his veins burning away the fatigue brought on by Toxxic’s offence. Seeing his opponent’s limp form on the canvas ELM turns and, without notable hesitation, strides towards the corner… “E!L!M!” “E!L!M!” Spurred on by the shouts of the fans, Magnifico begins to mount the turnbuckles as if it was three years ago. Once at the top he throws a quick salute out at the crowd, then leaps off and pumps his arms and legs as he descends towards his opponent- *WHAM!* -and connects with a Frog Splash! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE… …NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Hegothimnohedidn’t!” Pete gabbles as Toxxic just, just manages to get a shoulder off the mat, leading to ELM turning and politely inquiring about the speed of the referee’s count. “I honestly thought Magnifico had him there, but Toxxic isn’t ready to go down for the third time in a row!” “Unlike Melissa Fasaki?” “KING!!” Magnifico has finished his discussion with the referee and, with Toxxic still not moving much of his own volition, drags his opponent off the canvas before taking up position behind him and tucking his head under Toxxic’s left armpit. “Magnifico is emptying the arsenal here, looking to land La Bomba Fantastica,” Pete exclaims as Magnifico lifts… …but as Toxxic spins around at the apex of the move the Straight-Edge Sensation latches his legs around ELM’s head, taking the Mexican over with a hurricanrana! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “Toxxic’s not dead yet!” King shouts as Magnifico tumbles across the ring. “Dammit!” the Gambling Man adds as an afterthought. Mags landed on the back of his neck off the rana, but it’s going to take more than a move invented in his country to keep an SWF legend down and he scrambles back to his feet to see Toxxic also forcing himself up. Magnifico runs in, seeking to regain his advantage with a clothesline… but Toxxic ducks and reaches up to grab Magnifico’s head from behind before sitting out- *BANG!* -into the Underkill! The back of Magnifico’s head bounces off the mat and Toxxic reaches forward to grab a leg, then pulls it back to make a rather unconventional pin… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE- -but ELM kicks out! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “E!L!M!” “E!L!M!” The Swedes seem content to chant for the person who’s just escaped a tricky situation, so it’s no surprise that Magnifico has the majority of their support as Toxxic falls backwards, wondering what he has to do to break this losing streak. However, the Straight-Edge Sensation is well aware that he doesn’t have the time to lie around and reflect on what might have been so he first sits up, then takes hold of Magnifico and begins to bring the luchadore to his feet. Magnifico starts to struggle but Toxxic quickly places him in a reverse headlock and clamps down before dragging his opponent towards the corner. When he’s a few feet away Toxxic breaks into a run, heading straight up the buckles before springing back off to complete a 360 degree rotation and drive the back of Magnifico’s head into the canvas again with a runaround Final Shine! *BANG!* Once more Toxxic covers, hooking both legs this time and rolling onto Magnifico’s shoulders in an attempt to keep the fiery Luchadore down… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Unbelievable!” Pete says as the Stockholm Globe Arena erupts again in support for the Hall of Famer. “Toxxic just doesn’t seem to have anything that can keep Magnifico down!” “Oh, he’s got moves that’ll keep him down alright,” King snorts, “he’s just too chicken to use them!” Toxxic pounds the mat in frustration at his opponent’s resilience, then grabs Magnifico roughly by the head and drags the Mexican upright. This time however, Toxxic draws one black-nailed thumb across his throat in an unmistakeable signal for ‘the end’ and grabs a ¾ headlock before setting off at a run for the turnbuckles and running straight up them. For a moment the Briton and the Mexican make a perpendicular tower of manflesh in the ring- [“Did Riley write this?” King asks suspiciously] -before Toxxic drops down to the mat… but ELM does not follow, as the wily luchadore has grabbed the top rope and manages to retain his feet! Toxxic lands on his front but scrambles up almost immediately, desperate not to lose his chance - and runs right into a back elbow! “E!L!M!” “E!L!M!” Toxxic staggers back but Magnifico grabs him by the wrist and then Irish whips him into the corner, causing the Straight-Edge Sensation to arrive back-first with a lung-shattering thump. As the winded Brit staggers out he swings a weak clothesline at his opponent but Magnifico ducks, then reaches up behind him to hook first one arm, then the other in a backslide position… “Baja California Crusher,” Pete shouts, “he’s going for it this time!” …but Toxxic didn’t become a three-time World Champion without doing research on his opponents, even one from the past like Magnifico. Before the Mexican can really set himself for the move the Straight-Edge Sensation is already pushing backwards as hard as he can, forcing his opponent into the turnbuckles before he’s ready and crushing Magnifico against them! ELM’s grip relaxes as his ribs impact against the buckles and Toxxic frees himself, then turns around to find the Mexican staggering backwards. The Brit quickly grabs Mags and turns him around, then fires a boot into his opponent’s gut and brings the five-time Light-Heavyweight Champion into a standing headscissors before underhooking both arms and lifting him UP… …AROUND… …AND… …DOWN! *BANG!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” Pete bellows over the crowd noise, “that could do it right there!” But Toxxic doesn’t go for the pin, having been disappointed in that area too many times this evening. Instead the Straight-Edge Sensation scoots around so that he’s facing the same way as Magnifico before placing one foot on the back of ELM’s knees and locking his legs, then reaching down to grab his opponent’s arms and sitting back to bring him up into a kneeling Mexican surfboard! “Well, I guess that could be considered disrespectful,” King admits, “what with Mags being Mexican and all…” But Toxxic isn’t done there, as instead of falling back to fully elevate his opponent off the mat he reaches out with his left arm to hook it around Magnifico’s throat in a Dragon Sleeper, then uses his right to force the Mexican’s right wrist up behind his back in a hammerlock… then clamps the two together! “Repeat To Fade!” Pete shouts. “That Mexican Surfboard variation won Toxxic the ICTV Title on both occasions that he held it, and now El Luchadore Magnifico is trapped in it!” Toxxic grits his teeth and leans backwards, doing everything he can to bend Magnifico’s spine out of shape as well as constrict the flow of blood to his opponent’s head. For his part the Hall of Famer reaches desperately for the ropes with his free left hand, but they are simply too far away and he has no way of getting to them. Unwilling to give in just yet, Magnifico makes a grab for the arm around his throat, but Toxxic’s hold is clamped on tight and it would take a much greater disparity in their strengths for ELM to break it. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” With his vision starting to blur Magnifico makes one last, desperate grab for the ropes that simply refuse to move any closer… …and then it’s over. *tap-tap-tap-tap-tap* *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms as ‘Rookie’ crashes out across the Stockholm Globe Arena, “here is your winner; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” The moment he hears the bell, Toxxic releases his grip and allows Magnifico to fall forwards before disentangling his legs and rolling away from the Mexican Cruiserweight. After a few seconds to catch his breath the Straight-Edge Sensation heads back to his opponent as Magnifico starts to pick himself up, and bends down beside him. The two men exchange a few quiet words, then Toxxic clasps Magnifico’s hand and hauls him up to his feet - a little roughly perhaps, but certainly not maliciously - and then claps the older man on the back. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “E!L!M!” The Swedish fans are chanting their heads off for both athletes, and even the defeated El Luchadore Magnifico can’t help but grin at the sound as he raises his hand to wave at the crowd. Meanwhile, Toxxic rolls under the bottom rope and begins to head up the entrance ramp, absent-mindedly slapping a few hands as he goes. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Maybe it’s his imagination how that sounds like another two syllable chant from his past. “TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” Then again, maybe it’s not. “Fans, what a match we’ve just seen!” Longdogger Pete shills. “Toxxic couldn’t get the win against Danny Williams, but he’s managed to pick the victory up here against El Luchador Magnifico! For his part, I’m not sure if Magnifico has completely settled back into his stride, but when he does then we’re really gonna be in bid’ness!” “That’s it for tonight,” King interrupts pointedly as the cameras shows ELM signing a few autographs at ringside, “join us on Monday for Tom Flesher’s Smarkdown, a show with proper wrestling!” FADE OUT ©2005 The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
