SWF Lockdown, August 10, 2005!

[Ace309 0]

"Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem."

 

Funyon steps into the center of the ring and begins to sing.

 

Your love is better than ice cream

Better than anything else that I’ve tried

And your love is better than ice cream

Everyone here know how to fight

 

And it’s a long way down

It’s a long way down

It’s a long way down to the place

Where we started from

 

Your love is better than chocolate

Better than anything else that I’ve tried

Oh love is better than chocolate

Everyone here knows how to cry

 

It’s a long way down

It’s a long way down

It’s a long way down to the place

Where we started from...

 

The Hershey Park Arena bursts into applause as Funyon finishes his stunning rendition of Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream," charming all in attendance as the opening montage fades in.

[Ace309 0]

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

SWF FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! LIVE, WEDNESDAY AUGUST 10th, FROM THE HERSHEYPARK ARENA IN HERSHEY, PENNSYLVANIA!

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

 

Send all materials (marked matches, promos, hershey kisses, etc.) to Ace309.

 

As of 8/5/05, all SWF wrestlers have been given a copy of the following memo, entitled Family Friendly Lockdown Rules:

 

To all SWF employees:

 

Despite the fact that Ground Zero was a Pay-Per View event, the SWF is still recieving a lot of complaints regarding its content. We have tried to explain to these watchdog groups that content from a pay service cannot be judged by free-TV standards, but they have shown footage of Ground Zero to some of our sponsors, and now the sponsors are unhappy. And if the sponsors are unhappy, everyone is unhappy.

 

We are doing our best to untangle this mess, but for the time being, Lockdown is going to remain a Family Friendly show.

 

I have come up with a list of Family Friendly rules, rules that I expect every SWF employee to follow.

 

1. No swearing. At all. Not in promos, not during matches, not within 100 feet of a television camera or audience member. Entrance themes that contain swearing will either be edited or replaced. Violation of this rule will result in a fine - $500 a pop.

 

2. Opponents will shake hands before and after every match. Violations will result in a stern talking to - repeated violations will result in a $500 fine per incident.

 

3. At the end of every match, the referee will raise the hands of both wrestlers, to show our audience that deep down, everyone is a winner.

 

4. Unconsciousness, or any signs of blood, will result in immediate stoppage of the match, which will be declared a draw.

 

5. Cracking some guy's head open with the ring steps might fly on Storm, but now we've got children in the front row. I know you all play to win, but winning should be your only goal out there on Lockdown. I don't want to see any attempts to cause greivous bodily harm or lasting injuries, and all matches should remain inside the ring. Myself and a few others will be reviewing the show - if we see any action that goes beyond simply trying to win a match, there will be consequences.

 

6. From the moment you reach the arena to five minutes after you've left, you are to be on your best behavior. I am trusting everyone here to be professional about maintaining a pleasant attitude and keeping their personal differences out of view of the audience, at least as far as Lockdown is concerned.

 

I know these changes may take some getting used to, but for the foreseeable future, we're stuck with them.

 

I will keep you all apprised of any developments with our sponsors and these watchdog groups as they occur.

 

-- Joseph Peters, CEO of The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

 

So, tune in Wednesday night for some explosive action-

 

Huh?

 

... what do you mean I can't say explosive?

 

... Jeez... ok, fine...

 

Tune in Wednesday Night for some fun-tastic action on Lockdown!

 

What?

 

No... no, I am NOT putting the-

 

...

 

FINE.

 

"Tune in Wednesday Night for some fun-tastic action on L ckd wn!"

 

I'm going to go jump off a bridge now.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

The Main Event

Ejiro Fasaki vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix

 

--> Oh. Hell. YES. Maddix vs. Cortez has been signed for Genesis.

 

\m/ \m/

 

In the mean time, Landon Maddix revealed on Storm that his eyes were on a larger prize - the SWF World Heavyweight Championship. Since Landon and Todd have to be kept apart for a while, we decided to give Landon a taste of what he's after - tonight he goes up against very-recent World Champion, Ejiro Fasaki! If he manages to put Rule away, his arguments for a title shot might hold a little more sway. Then again, Ejiro's no pushover, and I'm sure he's itching to get back into the game. The question is: who wants it more?

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

Word Limit: 6000

Send to: Ace309

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Ghost Machine vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke © - SWF International Championship Match

 

--> The reports are in - kids love Ghost Machine. Underneath his cold maybe-robot exterior is an icon that millions of children ages 5-10 have come to adore. We'd be crazy to keep him off this show.

 

More importantly, when Manson was all set up for a shot at Jay Hawke's International Championship, Ghost Machine scored an upset win over him! Ghosty was out of town for the PPV, but now he's back, and ready to cash in his shot against the Dean of Professional Wrestling!

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

Word Limit: 5500

Send to: Justice

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Wildchild vs. Nick "The Hitlist" Blum

 

--> So Blum fell a little short in the Hardcore division, but hey - maybe that's just not his style. He's got more than a smattering of Cruiserweight background - let's see if he fares any better in that arena. Tonight, "The Hitlist" goes one on one with one of the SWF's most acclaimed Cruiserweights, Wildchild! Will we see an amazing upset (something our rookies seem more and more capable of)?

 

Rules: Standard, with Cruiserweight addendum - no throwing your opponent over the top rope, outside count goes to 20.

Word Count: 5000

Send to: janusd

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

JJ Johnson vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

 

--> The mysterious Ground Zero match that never was - actually, it's not so mysterious, Spike just got a touch of the flu. After a false start that almost required us to refund all of our PPV buys for false advertising, these two are ready to go!

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

Word Limit: 5000

Send to: chirs3

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Zyon vs. Marcus Ward © (non title match)

 

--> Both of these guys are awesome. Zyon is awesome because he rocked the Hardcore division from day one, and has allowed me to come up with the phrase "pulling a Zyon", which is when a newbie wows everyone with their awesomeness. Marcus Ward is awesome because he pulled a Zyon. Zyon has expressed a wish to move up in the world, so this bout will be non-title - just a chance for these two proven hardcore warriors to showcase their other skills.

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

Word Limit: 4500

Send to: TheSuperstar

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Devon Walters vs. "Big Country" Martin Hunt

 

--> The SWF's newest asset is Devon Walters, a monster of a man with a knack for giving people what they deserve. In his SWF debut, he goes up against perennial JTTS, Martin Hunt.

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

Word Limit: 4000

Send to: Ace309

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Opening Promo: Pretzel-man.

[Ace309 0]

In his private dressing room, now cut off completely from the vestiges of Revolution Zero, Scott Pretzler sits in a folding chair with the Cruiserweight Championship draped over his shoulder. He faces the camera.

 

“JJ Johnson, I respect you. I respect you a great deal. You’re a straightforward and honest man, and with more people like you, this business would be in good hands.”

 

He pats the title belt and gives it an appreciative look before continuing.

 

“When Wildchild wanted a match with me, he instigated a series of increasingly violent and unpleasant confrontations, one that eventually led to his defeat and my being awarded this belt. He could have just asked, and I would gladly have accepted his challenge, but his communication skills were insufficient. You, on the other hand, presented yourself like a gentleman. Your challenge to my Cruiserweight Championship was tactful and sportsmanlike.”

 

He leans in closer.

 

“Which is why I’m going to grant your request.”

 

As if forestalling a response, he holds up his hand.

 

“However, that does not mean your offer was devoid of arrogance, cheap shots, or misinformation. It contained all of these things. First, you argued that I have not been a credible champion because I have only made a single title defense since winning the belt. Pardon my Swahili, but c’est ridicule. The champion is not the one who makes challenges – that is the job of those below him who wish to contend for the title. That’s why we call them challengers.”

 

He says this last word slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a mentally disabled person.

 

“Secondly, you contested my statement that you were content to remain in the middle of the Revolution Zero success ladder, moving neither up nor down. No, scratch that. You didn’t contest it so much as you tried to twist it into a snappy and threatening one-liner. And in this you may or may not have succeeded – I lack the cryptography skills necessary to figure out what the *BLEEP!* you were saying.”

 

The audience goes silent as they try in vain to decipher what he is saying. Offscreen, someone gasps at the profanity.

 

“Finally, you lambasted the fact that I have been in many high-profile matches with exotic stipulations. This is a case of simple jealousy which demands no counterargument.”

 

He leans back and glances again at his belt.

 

“But, as I said, these are minor quibbles, and I would be honored to put this title on the line in a match with you next Monday.”

 

He stands.

 

“Just don’t expect anything but utter defeat.”

[Ace309 0]

Coming back from SWF Lockdown’s very first commercial break of the evening, the sounds of “A Country Boy Can Survive” and the image of Martin Hunt greet the viewing audience, probably much to their dismay. Funyon stands by next to him with his hand at his ear, choking a bit on some phlegm before bellowing out into his microphone.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, to my right…hailing from the beautiful city of Boone, North Carolina….Pi Kappa Phi’s very own MARTIN…BIG COUNTRY…HUUUUNT!”

 

Martin struts a bit around the ring, raising his left hand high as he points at the fraternity letters adorning his chest and his music slowly fades away.

 

“Welcome Back to Lockdown, everyone!” comes the voice of the Longdogger. “We are going to have a great show for you tonight but first we have a debut match for someone that really made his presence felt on Storm a few days ago.”

 

“What? Danny Williams has been around for years, Pete!” King pipes in, and Pete sends back a stare.

 

“Not him, King. A man known as Devon Wal…” He begins, only for the arena lights to drop to darkness, with only a lone spotlight pointing toward the entranceway. In the light, fans can began to make out the shadows of the two Walters’ brothers, with Matthew walking in front of his larger, younger brother. With no music to speak off, the crowd’s murmurs can be heard crystal clear as the fans try to get a glimpse of this new behemoth in the SWF.

 

”And introducing his opponent…being accompanied to the ring by Matthew Walters…he stands at seven foot three inches tall and weighs in at three hundred and thirty five pounds… DEVON WAAALTERS!”

 

The faces on the two men change little as Funyon exits the ring, making way for referee Sexton Hardcastle to slide under the bottom rope just as Devon reaches the ring steps. With a slow grace he climbs to the apron and steps over the top rope, entering an SWF ring for the very first time. He looks out over the crowd slowly, spinning a bit before his eyes catch his brother’s. Matthew nods and smiles softly before making his way around the second corner of the ring and the lights return back to their normal radiance.

 

”As I was saying…this man known as Devon Wal…”

 

“…mind if I sit here-“

 

“No you may-“ King starts…

 

”…Mr. Dogger?”

 

“If you wish…” Pete answers, and Matthew moves a chair to the table, setting it up and even grabbing himself a headset, adjusting it on his head as referee Hardcastle asks both men to shake hands to start the match. At first, it seems both men are apprehensive, but after a quick glance at his brother, Devon extends his hand to his opponent.

 

“This is silliness…” King remarks out loud as Martin Hunt belches, wiping his hand across his mouth and putting it right into the palm of the giant across from him.

 

”Ewwww…” Both announcers say together, but Matthew simply watches quietly as Devon removes his hand, and with nothing more than a flick of his wrist across his tights, he seems to be just fine. Hunt chuckles and circles the big man as Sexton calls for the bell…

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“And here we go, our first match tonight and Devon Walters first match in the SWF has just begun!” Pete calls as Hunt continues to circle, unsure of what to do as Devon simply stands there, his arms in front of him as he watches his opponent.

 

“Good.” Matthew mutters as Hunt stops, confused, and questions the referee about the actions of Walters.

 

“What do you mean, good? He’s not doing anything!” King exclaims, a little louder than he intended, and Matthew extends his hand, pushing it toward the console in a “quiet down” motion.

 

“He has no reason to attack Mr. Hunt. All he has done was run circles around him and burp rather unpolitely.”

 

“Rather unpolitely?!” King responds from across the table, “As if what you just did wasn’t rather unpolite to me! Do you even know who I am?”

 

“Of course, Mr. King. But if you don’t know, I’m sure you can find some DVDs or old magazines or something.” Matthew’s remark catches the ire of the Gamblin Man, who has to hold himself back from diving across the announce table at this unwanted pest.

 

“Calm down, King. He knows who you are.” Pete tries to keep the peace as, inside the ring, Sexton Hardcastle talks with Devon, who seems to be mouthing the same reasoning that Matthew just gave. Satisfied, Sexton turns to Hunt and can be heard saying “hit him.”

 

“Did he just tell Martin Hunt to hit Devon Walters? That’s great! Even the referee is getting bored!” King chortles royally and Matthew just shakes his head back and forth as Hunt winds up his right hand and sends a blistering punch into Devon’s face, who makes no attempt to block it.

 

“Ouch. Stinging right hand from Hunt and Walters is still just standing there. Even I’m perplexed at this point, fans.” LDP remarks as the fans around the arena slowly start to build a chant up from the floor to the rafters.

 

“DING! DING! DING!

DING! DING! DING!

DING! DING! DING!”

 

“Are they chanting bell noises?” King questions as his head moves from side to side, watching the Hershey crowd around him in awe.

 

“I guess they are making sure both men understand that the match has started, as it seems Devon Walters isn’t too sure about that yet.” Pete replies, only for Matthew to glare over at him. Back inside, Devon’s eyes dart around the arena in front of him, to Sexton, to Hunt, to his brother, and back again repeatedly as he stands there. Sexton again asks for something to happen, and again Martin obliges with another hard punch to the jaw.

 

“WOOOOO!”

 

The crowd actually cheers the southern boy as he fires off another punch, and another…none of them doing too much damage, but really getting the crowd into it.

 

”HIT HIM AGAIN!” a fan can be heard yelling from ringside as Hunt drops back into the ropes and springs off, leaping off the mat and connecting across Devon’s chest with a hard clotheline. The momentum finally is enough to get the big man moving, as he drops back into the corner and against the turnbuckle as Martin Hunt lines up another shot from the middle of the ring.

 

“Here we go! Finally some ac-OH MY!” Pete calls as Hunt tries for a splash into the corner, only to catch the bottom of Devon’s foot straight across the side of his face. The shot drops Big Country to the canvas as Devon steps out of the corner and shakes his body from neck to ankles before looking down at his opponent, who is already back to his knees.

 

“What was that about, huh? Explain that to me?” King calls, his questions obviously directed right down the table from himself.

 

“Well, what reason did my brother have to attack Mr. Hunt before then?”

 

“Oh, I dunno, maybe cause it’s his job?!” King replies as Devon wraps his hand around the throat of Hunt and lifts him to his feet before turning and tossing him into the corner by his goozle. Hunt hits hard and tries to fight out, only for the big man to push him back into the buckles with a hard clothesline of his own!

 

“I don’t think you are seeing the big picture. My brother would not attack Mr. Hunt first for the same reasons you would not come out to his table and attack Mr. Dogger.” Matthew replies to King’s antics in stride as Devon keeps Martin pinned in the corner with a quick series of European Uppercuts. Sexton gets in the middle and calls for a break, and Devon quickly obliges, stepping away from the corner and turning toward the announce table, where Matthew simply nods back to him.

 

“So you are saying he isn’t going to attack first because Martin Hunt is a big loser that doesn’t deserve any more pain in his life?” King pulls out his trademark grin and Pete tries to stand up, only for Matthew to put his hand across his chest and sit him back down.

 

“It’s not worth it, Mr. Dogger.” Matthew starts as LDP regains his seat, huffing to himself, “he would not attack first because there was no reason to. What did Mr. Hunt ever do to my brother? Nothing. When he decided to take matters into his own hands and take the fight to him, however, then my brother was forced to respond, and you are seeing it now.” Matthew points to the ring as Martin Hunt has again found himself in the clutches of the giant after a boot to the ribcage doubled him over in the middle of the ring. With a grunt, Walters pulls Hunt off his feet and holds him across his chest before dropping down to his left knee, jamming his right one into the back of Big Country.

 

“Textbook backbreaker there, and so far Devon Walters has shown…”

 

“That he can lift someone up and put them down…GOOD!” King replies, though Pete mostly ignores him and keeps on going.

 

”…that he does indeed know his way around a wrestling ring. Martin Hunt might be thinking about canceling any victory bash he might be planning alreeeeeeaaa………….wow.” Pete is stunned into silence as, after lifting Hunt back up into position for another backbreaker, Devon Walters spins the body of the fraternity brother up and then all the way back down to the canvas with a hard powerslam.

 

“Oh that was NOTHING” King exclaims as Devon stays on top of Hunt for the first pin attempt of the contest…

 

 

One….

 

 

 

 

Tw—Kickout!

 

Martin Hunt quickly kicks out of the pin and rolls away from the big man, all the way to the outside of the ring. Devon waits casually inside as Hunt catches a breather, holding himself and leaning against the apron and looking up at his opponent, seemingly wondering what to do.

 

“What is he doing now? He could at least go after him!” King points wildly at the scene playing out in front of him as Sexton starts to count Martin Hunt out…

 

…1…

 

“Again, Mr. King, there is no reason for pursuit here. It is early, and sometimes it’s not about keeping the upper hand or taking advantage of it, but going with it when it happens to come your way.”

 

…2…

 

“Well that’s just a load of…”

 

”Sponsors! A load of sponsors we have here on SWF Lockdown!” Pete cheerfully interrupts the FCC-violation sitting next to him…

 

…3…

 

As Devon continues to stand in the ring, resting against the ropes…Hunt, still on the outside, looks more confused than he was a few months back when he accidentally walked in on a Calc 400 exam.

 

“I don’t think Martin Hunt, or anyone else around here, has ever seen anything like this! Devon Walters is about ready to fall asleep…”

 

“…as is half of our viewing audience! Do something!” King yells again as Hunt finally dives under the bottom rope and into the ring, getting to his feet just in time to meet the lumbering body of Devon Walters as it goes airborne, catching the fraternity brother square in the chest with a lariat, putting both men down…but for Devon not for long.

 

“Big flying clothesline and Martin Hunt is down once more!”

 

“He suckered him in, did you see that?!” King calls out as Devon stands, brushing himself off and pulling Martin up as well.

 

”Mr. Hunt had no reason to attack him, whether this match was signed by our boss, your boss, or anyone else. He should have just refused to come out to the ring tonight. Just by wanting to fight my brother, he began to cross the waters into bad karma.”

 

”It’s his job!” King screams back as Devon lifts Hunt into the air with a suplex, carrying him to the side of the ring and dropping him down across the top rope with a hard…

 

SPPRRRROOOOING!

 

…before twisting his body in mid-return and releasing the body of Martin Hunt, driving him down into the canvas back-first with a rough bodyslam! The crowd reacts with a loud cheer as Devon keeps one leg hooked up to his body and Sexton falls down for another count and Pete flips through his notes…

 

 

One!

 

”The Conversion and this match could be over right here!”

 

 

Two!

 

 

NO!

 

“Martin Hunt barely able to kick out right there, and you can see that the determination on Devon Walter’s face just jumped ten fold! Can you tell me what he is thinking in there right now, Matthew?”

 

“I can’t really say. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s good. This is one of the few times I can’t tell what he is thinking. When he gets in that ring and things start happening, he becomes a different animal…”

 

GRAAAAAAAAWL!!

 

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

 

The voices of Suicide King and the Longdogger are heard as Devon unleashes a loud yell, much to the delight of the crowd around the arena.

 

”See what I mean?” Matthew points as Devon intertwines his arms with the arms of Martin Hunt and holds him there before throwing his body backwards and sending his opponent flying and flipping backwards, landing on his face from the brutal suplex!

 

“The Call of the Kali!” Pete checks his notes again, “That is your move isn’t it, Matthew?”

 

”It was…but I never did it like that.” Matthew shakes his head as even Sexton Hardcastle can’t believe what he has witnessed. Martin stirs, his head rising slightly as Devon stands back from the car wreck that is Big Country at the present moment, poising himself in the corner.

 

”I’m surprised he’s even moving right now! He should just stay down!” Pete calls towards the ring, but Hunt continues to pull himself up, barely aware at the monster standing across the ring eying him like prey on the savannah.

 

“How about instead of standing there like an idiot…you go over there and punch him or something! This isn’t mannequin wrestling, hit him!” King yells at the big man, who seems to acknowledge the screaming with a nod of his head.

 

“I think he heard you, King.”

 

“He did.” Matthew quickly interjects as Hunt finally gets himself up in the corner, looking out into the crowd and turning around….

 

 

WHAAAM!

 

 

“OH MY GOD!” Pete calls as the right foot of Devon Walters crushes the side of Martin Hunt’s head as he comes out of the corner, the gunshot of a yakuza kick barely giving Hunt any time to react, but plenty of time to lay face down on the canvas with a tread mark on his cheek. “That is some consequence, right there.” The Dogger continues as Walters falls to the canvas and rolls Hunt over on his back, pinning his shoulders to the mat…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Thr-NOO!!

 

“Martin Hunt….BARELY able to kick out of that thunderous shot from Devon Walters!”

 

“Don’t pick him up!” King calls out once more toward the ring, apparently trying to give the newcomer some pointers as Devon beings to pull Hunt up by his right shoulder. Sexton checks on Hunt for a moment before Walters whips him towards the ropes and looks to catch him on the bounce…

 

WHIFFF!

 

”He barely slipped away that time…and here comes Big Country off the ropes a second time!” Pete tries to follow the action as Hunt barrels back toward Devon and leaps, lunging and stretching his body into perfect position for a huge dropkick straight to the chest of the big man! Devon stumbles backwards and Martin Hunt stays on the offensive, sending a hard forearm shot to Walters’ face and reaching up for a headlock, pulling the giant down to his size!

 

“I don’t even know how Martin Hunt is still able to walk after that suplex, quite frankly, but I’m glad he is! Yeah! Hit him in the face!”

 

“Stop cheering.”

 

Matthew’s voice is heard and the Suicide King again begins to get miffed.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t think he can hear you, Mr. King. It’s pathetic, especially coming from a man who is supposed such a high caliber of wrestler.”

 

“SUPPOSEDLY?!” King responds, slamming his hands down on the console as Martin Hunt begins firing off right hands into the face of Walters. Devon tries to back himself toward the ropes from the position he is in, but Hunt uses all the strength he has to keep the big man from making any quick moves, continuing to hammer away right between the eyes of the rookie.

 

“If you are and were such a great wrestler in this company and in this business, Mr. King, then why are you here right now cheering on someone that you would have considered pond scum back when you held that World Championship?”

 

“The man has a point, King.” Pete responds, and King stays silent, glaring across the table. “Wow, I think you shut him up, Matthew. I’ve been trying to do that since I got this gig.”

 

“Would you two just shut up and watch the match, already!” King opens his mouth just as Devon wraps his arms around Hunt’s waist and lifts him into the air, causing confusion and panic to appear on the face of Big Country.

 

“Uh oh…” Pete remarks as Hunt begins to fight with everything he has, throwing all of his weight forward and is finally able to squirm just enough to let the big man’s grip slip! Hunt lands back on his feet, still holding Walters in the headlock as best he can. “Martin Hunt was almost in some serious trouble but was able to regain…BIG SHOVE BY WALTERS!”

 

Devon gets his hands around Hunt again, and this time just pushes forward, causing him to fly into the ropes. Martin comes back as Devon lines himself up again, firing his right foot into the air for a second time…

 

“ANOTHER CONSEQUENCE!”

 

WHIIIIIIFFFF!

 

“…MISSED! DEVON WALTERS MISSED ON THAT BIG KICK!”

 

Hunt hits the ropes a second time and turns around to come back for his own attack…

 

 

 

OOOOOOOMPH!

 

 

WHAAAM!!

 

“We’ll call that one Nirvana out of nowhere!!!” Pete yells in time with some cheers in the crowd as Martin Hunt’s body is nearly flipped completely over with a huge clothesline from the big man. “The momentum can change in an instant, just like that Martin Hunt thought he was in control, and now he is back facedown in the canvas.”

 

“I’ve seen better.” King quips as Devon begins to pull Hunt off the ground again, hooking him into a front facelock and lifting him HIGH into the air, holding him with one arm as his body hangs upside down seven feet off the canvas!

 

“This…is Bliss, gentlemen.” Matthew says softly and looks up at his brother, who is still holding Hunt upside down, his eyes filled with confusion as he looks down toward the announce table. Matthew nods again and Devon shakes his head.

 

“What the hell is going on?”

 

”I think he’s afraid.” Matthew quickly remarks as he begins to stand at the table to yell toward his brother, but before he can Hunt is able to fall out of the grip and down behind the behemoth, landing as gingerly as he can from such a fall and shoving on Devon hard. Distracted, Devon stumbles forward into the ropes and turns around just in time to catch a hard knee to the chest from Big Country!

 

“Ol’ 100 Proof Knee there, and he can only thank himself when he loses his very first match in the SWF! What was that all about?”

 

“Well, Mr. King, after you spend some time in jail for giving someone a deserved beating, it takes a toll on you mentally when you are asked to do it for sport.” Matthew replies and keeps his attention on the ring as Martin Hunt tries to scoop his large opponent off his feet and into the air!

 

“He’s trying to pick him up!” Pete yells as Hunt grunts and groans to himself as he lifts Devon up onto his shoulder, holding him into position for a powerslam as he turns around to face the middle of the ring. “…He got him up! I don’t believe it! Martin Hunt got the big man Uhhhh…WAIT A MINUTE!”

 

Devon falls backwards to his feet from the hold and turns Hunt around, wrapping both of his hands around the throat of the fraternity brother and looking deep into his eyes. Hunt starts to flail as Devon’s stare gets closer…

 

”Creepy…” Both announcers say under their breath as Devon lifts Hunt off his feet and holds him by the throat before pivoting to his left and tossing him down into the turnbuckle with velocity.

 

Smack!

 

“Martin Hunt looks like he has seen a ghost!” Pete calls as Hunt sits in the corner, his eyes bugged slightly as he gasps for air, barely noticing the big man lining him up from the middle of the ring.

 

“This doesn’t look good, I’ll admit that.” King calls as Pete looks to Matthew, who can only say one word…

 

“Intervention.”

 

With a burst of speed, Devon rams his body into the prone anatomy of Martin Hunt, crushing him into the corner before following up with a hard series of rights and lefts, open palms catching every part of Hunt’s face as he tries to block and push them away, to no avail.

 

“Devon Walters is massacring Martin Hunt into that turnbuckle! I have never seen so many shots come so fast like that!” LDP remarks as the punches continue, with Sexton moving in and trying to break up the melee…

 

”Come on, break it!” Sexton yells to Walters…

 

“One!”

 

“Two!”

 

“Three!”

 

Devon pulls away after a final knee to the gut, leaving Hunt there standing on his own two feet, but looking more battered than he was just thirty seconds ago.

 

“My Heavens…” Pete says as Hunt stumbles out of the corner and into the arms of the big man, who lifts him to his shoulders…

 

“How can you advocate that kind of a beating?!” King directs his ranting at Matthew, “how can you go around here saying that what everyone else is doing is wrong and you are so in the right! Huh? How can you say that! These people come here to wrestle and to win and you mock them!” King bellows as Devon Walters throws Martin Hunt off his shoulders and over his head…

 

“Sometimes it’s not about winning or losing…”

 

 

 

 

 

THUUUUUUD!!

 

 

“Karma! A dose of Karma for Martin Hunt! There’s the cover!” Pete calls out as Martin Hunt’s face eats the canvas and Matthew puts his headset down, leaving toward the entrance ramp as Devon makes the cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Three!!!

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this contest by pinfall… DEVON WALTERS!!” Funyon makes the match official as Devon stands to his feet and brushes himself off, waiting patiently for Hardcastle to get Martin Hunt to his feet. Matthew stands at the steps, his eyes watching his brother.

 

“Quite the impressive debut from Devon Walters, as he comes out here like no one else, making short work of Martin Hunt in our opening match!”

 

“Next time, keep that loony brother of his away from the booth, alright? That’s the kind of guy that could drive Toxxic to drinking…” The Suicide King snuffs as Devon Walters steps over the top rope and down to the floor, leaving the ringside area to the muffled cheers of the crowd. Neither he nor his brother acknowledges those around the ramp, hands extended, as they head to the curtain and Lockdown goes to its second commercial break.

[Ace309 0]

As SWF Lockdown returns from the previous commercial break, the camera cuts backstage. ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins is seen entering the arena, his sports bag placed over one shoulder as he storms into the arena. He looks around confused, but turns his attention to a pair of crewmembers who are leaning on a wall, chatting.

 

“Excuse me, do you guys know where the locker room is?” asks Jenkins.

 

Both men eye him suspiciously, turn to each other, and turn back to Jenkins.

 

“Aren’t you that guy, Spike Jenkins?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“You were that ******* (“Ash Olay!” SWF Lockdown ©) who was in Revolution Zero?”

 

“That was a long time ago…”

 

“Listen, all because you fought Toxxic doesn’t mean we are going to forgive you for the **** (“POOP!” SWF Lockdown ©) you did to everybody!” says one of the workers, while they both eye him maliciously, “You aren’t wanted in the locker rooms! You weren’t wanted after Toxxic beat the **** (“FLAP!” SWF Lockdown ©) out of you, and you aren’t wanted now!”

 

Spike glares at both men as they turn the corner and walk out of sight. Spike gives a disappointing sigh, as he now has to find a place to change for tonight. Spike goes to walk down a corridor, when a familiar chuckle is heard behind him.

 

“Still not giving you a break, huh?” comes the familiar voice of the one, the only…

 

 

 

 

 

“…How did I know you would show up at the exact moment where you are least wanted, Taamo?”

 

“It’s a skill,” retorts the SWF Smarkdown Commissioner. Spike turns around to face the man who shares an almost equal hatred for Jenkins that Jenkins has for him. “You think after all this time, people would learn to forgive and forget, huh?”

 

“Well, aren’t you the opinionated one?” Spike looks around mockingly, “What? No sneak attacks by Johnson?”

 

“Nah, he’ll take care of you later tonight.”

 

“Then what is this all about?” asks a suspicious Jenkins.

 

“What? Can’t a man come and laugh in the face of his enemy?”

 

“We’ll see who is laughing by the time this war between you, me, and CC is all over.”

 

“Oh yeah?” asks the Superior One as he inches closer to Spike, “Why is that? What will be so funny?”

 

“Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but I know what I have to do now,” says Jenkins. Flesher sticks his chin out, as if asking him what he is talking about. “Oh, it is all very simple. Considering my current disdain for the CC and well, you, I’ve decided that I will obviously have to put a wooden stake through your life-leaching heart.”

 

“And how do you plan to do that?” smirks Flesher.

 

“Easy. What is the one thing that you and the CC would hate to see to the most in this world?”

 

“Enlighten me,” responds the Smarkdown Commissioner.

 

“Picture this,” Spike says as he holds up his hand to show an imaginary headline, “ ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins…versus…SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Johnny Dangerous!”

 

Flesher snarls, “You’ll never get near that title. You’re lucky to even be curtain-jerking.”

 

Spike grins, as he knows he got under Flesher’s skin, “Tom, look who you are talking to I can get a title shot without even stepping ten feet from the Committee. I know how to play mind games, Tom. In this business, it is all about egos. If you press hard enough on someone’s, they are bound to give in.”

 

After a long pause, Flesher looks Spike right in the eye. “You better go find somewhere to change. Your execution with JJ Johnson is later tonight.”

 

“Don’t worry about my match, Taamo. Just remember what I said about everybody in this business having an ego…enjoy my match…” Spike begins to walk off, as Flesher’s face turns furiously red, “In fact…I think I’ll dedicate it to you.”

[Ace309 0]

“These rules are really starting to get to me Pete. I mean seriously in this day and age is swearing really that bad. Sure it offends some, but it causes mental disorders to people like me who sit at home and watch South Park re runs all day.” A sad Suicide King speaks off camera…or at least he thinks he’s off camera.

 

“King I know. But the powers that be think they are god or something. It’s pretty stupid, really. You know better yet. Its fuc…good lord we are on aren’t we?” Pete sweating bullets answers his own question with a look of “oh my god, I just lost my job.”

 

King has clean up duty, “YES Longdogger our next match should be a functional piece of work.”

 

Pete tries to recover, “That’s….right…Zyon and Marcus Ward…King I have kids I got to feed. Child support to pay.”

 

King realizes he is in the eye of a breakdown and places the responsibility on someone else, “Seems Funyon is ready for our next match.”

 

The camera pans to the ring where Funyon is chowing down on a hot dog. An uncomfortable silence reeks over the speakers of those watching at home while the SWF backstage crew freaks like they got a pair. Their not dancing, but they are freaking out to the point of going to a black out. Suddenly though the two man “professional” commentary team break the unforgiving buzz surrounding the arena.

 

“Our next match should be quite the power vs. speed struggle. Zyon will be taking on the man who beat him and Nick Blum for the Hardcore Title.” Pete sweeps the madness under a rug and performs his duties.

 

King also back from having to pull Pete away from a breakdown that NEVER HAPPENED, we swear! “Tonight is a non title match thanks to Zyon who for some odd reason feels he should strive toward bigger things. I mean the tiny salmon can chase the impossible dream all he wants, but the guy is coming off of TWO STRAIGHT LOSSES!”

 

“Of course King discourage young talent from taking risks. You’re no better than the great men who put together the FAMILY FRIENDLY SWF CONSTITUTION! Forget risks lets feed our audience the same stuff the competitors do. You know what? Forget this, Funyon is ready and Family Friendly or not. This is going to be a great match!” Pete rages against the machine.

 

The camera takes a 360 take of the inhabitants inside the Hershey Park Arena. Most are on their feet ready for the next match to begin while a couple know it alls laugh at the difficulties facing Lockdown. No matter MC Funyon will pull it together, you know “if you have a problem yo I’ll solve it” and all that jazz. Seriously what is more family friendly than Vanilla Ice?

 

This man.

 

“The next match is NON TITLE, scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit.”

 

“I’m Born”

 

“I’m Alive”

 

“I Breathe”

 

And that would be the non explicit sounds of Incubus’s “Vitamin.” The fans leap to their feet screaming at the top of their lungs as they try to turn cheering into a sporting event. The fans don’t have to wait long for the rambunctious youngster to skip through the curtain and into the spotlight. Zyon looking noticeable naked without the hardcore title sprints his way down the ramp and onto the ring apron. The young man after a week and some odd days off from physical action has recovered the extra spring in his step as he flips over the ropes and into the ring…

 

“In the ring hailing from Elkhart, Indiana, and weighing in at 200 lbs, THE UNIQUE YOUTH…ZYYYYYON!!!”

 

The former hardcore champ sticks to his roots by performing his signature and without the title literal headbang/arm raise taunt. Zyon hops to a random corner as his music continues to play…

 

“Ha, I wonder if Zyon has gotten used to being two pounds lighter without that hardcore title around his waist. Even without the hardcore title the spot monkey still finds a way to agitate me. That horrendous entrance he does, isn’t head banging unfriendly and anti family.” King deep in thought.

 

Pete enraged with the rules spits out, “Of course not. Well you know what King? I’ll give you that one. A simple gesture like head banging could very well be unfriendly. But everything else you said is your usual…for unable to use a better term, disrespect for Zyon and other cruiserweight competitors. That I respectfully do not agree with.”

 

The crowd continues to cheer on the beloved “Unique Youth” until the sobering Family Friendly beats of “Between the Wheel” by Rush play across the arena. The inhabitants of Hershey, Pennsylvania immediately jeer the on coming hardcore champ. Marcus Ward comes forth slowly pacing his way down the entrance ramp. His newly won hardcore title buckled firmly across his weight giving the crowd more reason to boo the rookie that took the title off of Zyon. Ward ignores the hateful remarks before pausing mid stride listening to the only thing he cares to.

 

“I’m in total control!!”

 

That would be his own voice. The usual brutal tone seems to have been toned down a bit by technicians and strict rules. Of course this isn’t Ward’s problem so the control freak leisurely walks down to the ring. Ward smiles at the audience before entering the ring via between middle and top rope. The cocky yet skillful Ward circles the ring, stepping on the first rope of each corner showing off his prize.

 

“And his opponent, hailing from Bavaria, and weighing in at 249 lbs, the SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION… MARCUS WARD!!!”

 

“This powerful rookie so far has been a success. First he debuted at Ground Zero and shocked everyone when he won the hardcore title. And just last week he battled with Nick Blum all over Manhattan. So far the kid has been phenomenal.” Pete says with a totally unbiased opinion.

 

Suicide King is visibly shocked, “Wow Happyending Pete that right there was your single greatest commentary ever. And I agree 100 %. This Marcus Ward is the true future of the SWF.”

 

Longdogger winces at the moniker that King gave him, “Yeah…well then you would also have to agree with me when I say that Marcus Ward has the personally of a big bully. He is a serious poor sport even when he wins.” Pete keeping his strong opinions family friendly.

 

Referee Nick Soapdish orders both combatants to the ring where the new stated pre match handshake shall take place without any disturbances…we hope. Zyon energetically strides to the center of the ring while Marcus Ward slowly steps his way to the handshake destination. Ward grinning from ear to ear looks down on his challenger before rubbing his hardcore title, a title that Zyon defended for almost two months. The youth though simply shrugs his shoulders knowing he can’t go back in time. The only time to worry about is the present and presently Zyon gets a chance to exact revenge against the control freak. And Ward…well he just likes to beat people.

 

“Ah the handshake. Such a beautiful show of respect and dignity. It’s good to know these men have class even the spot turtle.” King speaks knowing that a recent poll indicated that a turtle is more family friendly than a monkey.

 

“Oh no doubt “don’t to it you have your whole life ahead of you” King. I mean it’s not like they are forced into having dignity or anything. I’m sure the crowd loving Zyon would shake the hand of Ward. Yes they only boo him out of love.” Smell the sarcasm.

 

After a brief stare down the rookie champion extends his hand first. Ward already known for his snakish tactics just smiles while his large hand wavers in the air. The crowd quickly catches on.

 

“Don’t Do It!!”

 

They chant, but Zyon doesn’t feel like having is wallet dented by the fine fairy. The youth innocently shakes the hand of his hated opponent…

 

“See rules are rules Pete. No big deal…”

 

CRACK!!!

 

BOOOO!!!

 

The crowd explodes jeering Marcus Ward who just downed Zyon with a clothesline. The ref quickly orders Ward back who mockingly raises his hands in the air while saying “I slipped.” The hardcore champion relinquishes his hardcore title to the timekeeper as Nick Soapdish calls for the bell.

 

Ding, Ding, Ding!

 

“Once a bully always a bully. That shot was unwarranted. I hope he enjoys shelling out greed’s favorite color.” Pete holds back his true unfriendly comments.

 

“Actually Pete the rules state they have to shake hands. However, nothing is said about what happens after they shake hands.” King makes a good point.

 

The unexpecting youth attempts to pull himself back up as Ward calmly hovers over his prey. As Zyon brings his body up, the menacing Ward puts him back down with a double ax handle smash to the back. The over powering controller of the hardcore title without a moments hesitation drops a sharp elbow to the spine of his opponent. Zyon clutches his back wincing in pain as Ward drops another back stabbing elbow!

 

“Ward is a true role model. You see he goes into a match and immediately knows what he wants to do. That is the way life should be for the youth of America.” King obviously impressed with Ward’s abilities.

 

Speaking of Ward the powerful heavyweight has assisted Zyon back to his feet, which is definitely not a good idea. The youth that refuses to quit fires back against his larger opponent with a flurry of forearms to the face. The crowd erupts just as Zyon does, which also means they come back down just as Ward stops the youth’s momentum with a brutal knee lift! The former hardcore champ gasps for breath allowing Ward to flip Zyon to the mat with a high angle hip toss throw!!

 

OHHHHH!

 

The crowd echoes as Zyon’s back smacks the canvas generating a sick echo.

 

“Zyon only gets that high when performing high risk maneuvers. Ward just tossed him around like a rag doll.” Pete also impressed by the powerful rookie.

 

“Pete we all know rag dolls are precious toys played with by children. Comparing them to Zyon is just being plain rude to the dolls.” King has gotten used to the family friendly rules, which allows him to sneakingly make fun of everything without having to be annoyed by Pete when he flips out.

 

The youth with a bit experience behind him rolls around on the canvas after being thrown around by Ward. The jeering crowd has no effect on Ward who looks to continue his assault. MW goes to lift the once energetic youth to his feet before snatching him up and dropping his opponent with a side slam. Ward stays on Zyon for the cover…

 

ONE…kickout.

 

It was obvious that Ward wasn’t looking for the victory. Hell he was simply showing everyone around the world that he is in control. Ward lifts Zyon to a sitting position setting the cruiserweight up for a lesson in soccer. The barebones fundamental in soccer is kicking, and well…

 

SMACK!!!

 

“Ah!” Zyon shouts after a Marcus Ward punt. The lightweight falls to the side lacking the energy to keep his crouching stance. Ward’s sly grin has yet to leave his face as he forces Zyon to his feet by pulling on his hair. Ward lacking a certain cautious nature Irish whips Zyon into the ropes AND GETS CLOBBERED by a leaping forearm smash. The man who hungers control finds himself on the mat wondering what just happened. Zyon keeps his balance and remains on his feet even though his back is visibly giving him trouble. The former hardcore champ waits on Ward who is buzzing like a pissed off hornet. The current hardcore champ after a moment of composing rises back to his feet and quickly strides toward his opponent. Zyon though has already started the human chess game by leaping downward and dropkicking Ward in the knee! Surprised by Zyon’s latest offensive strike Ward bends down clutching his knee. Zyon hurries toward Ward and locks him in a front face lock. And as fast as the door opens it slams shut. The stronger competitor easily lifts the weaker up and tosses him back first into the upper right turnbuckle!

 

“Oh good for a moment there I was worried.” King hinting at a Zyon compliment

 

Zyon tries to fight back, but Ward simply overwhelms his smaller opponent with a knee to the gut. Again the cruiserweight fights for air as Ward strikes him with an elbow to the ear of all places. At a young age Zyon could possibly be battling hearing impairment along with marginal back problems. The control freak that is Marcus Ward once again hooks Zyon under the arm and follows the hooking with another throwing hip toss. Zyon floats through the air bringing the same kind of horror as a crashing jet. The youth skids across the ring before coming to a canvas burning halt!

 

“Just like Martin Hunt, Zyon has been dominated by Marcus Ward.” Pete in awe of Ward’s power.

 

The crowd is also in awe as they patiently wait for their hero to come back, but as of right now it’s not looking to good. Ward hardly breaking a sweat scrapes the road kill from the mat and brings him into a front face lock. The powerful hardcore champ carefully hoists the hurting youth into the air. Zyon hangs in the air vertically trying to run through all the ways he can counter a suplex. However reversing is just as physical as it is mental as the fans gasp when Ward slams Zyon to the mat with a hanging vertical suplex! Zyon pops up holding his back before slowly falling back down to the mat. The arrogant hardcore champ claps his hands applauding his own brute strength before going for the cover…

 

ONE…

 

TWO…kickout

 

Zyon continues to show sings of life. Ward though isn’t worried in the slightest as he lifts Zyon to his feet and locks him in a one armed waist lock. The brutal hardcore champ drives forearm after forearm into the back of his challenger with his free arm. Zyon winces after every merciless strike before being forced into the atmosphere. Ward holds his lightweight opponent in the air on his shoulder showing Zyon off as a personal trophy of some sorts. MW after having his fun floats backward giving his opponent a less than stellar landing!

 

“Ward continues his back destroying assault with a back drop. I’m sure everyone at home knows that Zyon is being softened for the torturous Total Control.” Pete lets everyone in on Ward’s obvious plan of attack.

 

“And for those special families watching at home. The Total Control is most definitely friendly to your wants and needs.” Ok, now King is just balancing on the arrogant/weird line.

 

Ward actually stops his own momentum by taking a break to catch his breath! Hardcore or not everyone needs to catch their breath, right? In Ward’s case he needs to make sure everyone realizes that Zyon is in his control. The hated gamer’s champion bends over to pick his opponent off the pain filled canvas, but is caught off guard by his opponent!! Actually everyone in attendance is weirded out by Zyon’s “counter.” The youth desperately latches on to the right leg of Ward like a dog violating its owner’s leg. MW doesn’t know what to think as he simply laughs off the cruiserweight’s attempt at an offensive assault. Soon though the novelty of Zyon’s act gets stale and Ward sees the opportunity to put the dog down. Ward bends over to grab Zyon, but the radical lightweight quickly summons the strength to lift Ward’s leg into the air! Finding himself at a lost of balance Ward tries to hop away from his semi crafty opponent. Zyon though keeps his grip on the leg of Ward before bringing the pain with a twisting dragon screw!

 

YEAHHHH!!!

 

As Zyon gets back in the match as do the fans. Ward languishes on the mat painfully reaching to stop the new controller of the match. However, the Unique Youth stops any attempt of Ward’s with a swift kick to the right leg of his opponent. MW’s past has come back to haunt him since earlier knee/leg injuries are well documented. Ward finds himself helpless as Zyon latches on to the foot of Ward while standing on his own feet. The youth then raises his arm teasing his opponent and hyping the crowd into a frenzy…

 

“AHH!”

 

A muffled yell comes from the hardcore champ who just had an elbow driven into his leg bending it in ways that just aren’t meant to be. With no submission knowledge to speak of Zyon simply tugs on the leg forcing it into directions of all sort of pain. The sloppiness of the cruisers motions allows Ward to sit up and rake the eyes of his attacker! The control freak quickly rolls out of the ring trying to buy enough time to get his thinking cap on. Of course we know what happens in a Zyon match when somebody is outside of the ring. Hurt back and all the youth bounces off the ropes and sprints toward the ropes…

 

“With all due respect to Cyclone Comet, Zyon is going to fly, baby!!” Pete is just glowing now.

 

HOWEVER, referee Nick Soapdish acts as a wall. Ok a really small skinny wall that would probably die if Zyon didn’t slam on the breaks. Soapdish quickly explains that fighting outside the ring is prohibited tonight and possible other nights as well on Lockdown.

 

“HAHAHA! C’mon Pete you know people can’t fly. Seeing and hearing stuff like that tricks kids into heinous things like jumping off the slide in the playground and breaking their arm. It just isn’t Family Friendly.” King has crossed back to the line of arrogant

as…jerk commentator.

 

Pete has no choice, but to choke on his words while Zyon is absolutely LIVID!! The youth wants to continue his attack, but a fine and a DQ loss just isn’t worth it. Ward can’t help, but smile through the recent beating he took. The weasel like hardcore champ brings the HEEL HEAT by pointing to his head in a taunting gesture, allowing Soapdish to start his count.

 

One

 

Two

 

Three

 

Four

 

Five

 

Six

 

BOO!!

 

The crowd and Zyon have had enough. The Unique Youth quickly exits the ring causing referee Nick Soapdish to panic. He knows referees are just as dispensable as deer running freely through the forest. Lucky for Soapdish Ward slides right back into the ring and turns Zyon into a sheep. The cruiserweight follows Ward into the ring and gets slaughtered by another stabbing elbow drop! The hardcore champ back in control lifts Zyon to his feet and fires off a stinging knife edge chop.

 

SMACK

 

WHOOOO!

 

“What? We all know our grand viewers like the rookies. So why do they insist on chanting something that has to be at least three thousand years old.” King shows how disrespectful he can be…while still fitting under the guidelines.

 

Ward mockingly shakes Zyon’s flesh off his hand while the youth clutches his chest. Keeping his body upright Ward bends at the knees and locks his opponent in a grave bear hug! The fans gasp as the hardcore champ looks to squeeze the life out of his opponent who looks to have lost the will to fight.

 

BOOO!!

 

“What is he doing out here????” Pete is clueless.

 

The struggle going on in the ring has currently taken second string as first stringer International champ Jay Hawke has decided to grace the crowd with his presence.

 

“Look even though Hawke has a match later against a dysfunctional robot he has shown up giving the crowd a reason to cheer. I mean from the looks of things Zyon is in quite the pickle.” King glows at the sight of Jay Hawke.

 

The international champ is dressed in his black wrestling attire, and in hand has a clipboard, which he debuted last week. Hawke pauses at the top of the ramp as he watches Ward break Zyon in two. The Unique Youth is currently mute and his physical actions have been drowned to a minimum. Yep it looks like Zyon has passed out from the intense pain. The crowd is in awe over the power of Marcus Ward who continues to overwhelm Zyon with the bear hug. Referee Nick Soapdish begins to issue the first of three arm drops.

 

Up…down!

 

Zyon continues to look blank and some in the front row swears that his eyes have rolled backwards. Once again though the brutal hardcore champ realizes that he is moments away from the possible victory so he continues to put pressure on his opponent’s back.

 

UP…DOWN!

 

“One more and Zyon has officially lost the match.” Pete points out.

 

“Heh. One more and I think this young man will have to visit the doctor for a major boo boo, but don’t worry he’ll at least get a free lollipop.” King is just shining here.

 

Referee Nick Soapdish dramatically lifts Zyon’s arm in the air and pulls away. The eyes of the surrounding audience drop along with the arm…

 

UP…DO…WAIT!!!!

 

Suddenly the Hershey Park arena blinks and gasps as the Unique Youth is not dead yet. The crowd explodes getting behind the fan favorite while Ward holds Zyon with his grip loosening after each head BUTT!! That is the route that Zyon has taken to get out of the deathly hold. The youth doesn’t care about the brain damaging long term effects of his technique (or lack thereof) but he definitely realizes that breaking free is important for his immediate future.

 

CRRRACK!!!

 

Both competitors’ heads snap backward in opposite directions after a grounded kamikaze head BUTT performed by the former hardcore champ.

 

YEAHHH!

 

The crowd is anticipating the Zyon comeback as the Unique Youth pulls his head backward and shoots it forward like a cannonball exploding from a cannon. Sadly though the stubborn noggin of the former hardcore champ does not make impact with the controlling mind of his opponent. And one overhead belly to belly suplex later and the momentum has been KILLED!

 

“I get it now. Hawke must be out here to view the talents of one Marcus Ward. You know Pete talent attracts talent.” King is all happy, happy, joy, joy.

 

Ward stumbles around the ring holding his head as he tries to get a grip on reality. Of course the reality of it all is that in this moment Zyon is not a threat especially if you consider the fact that the youth is once again on his back. Then again the people have yet to give up hope…

 

Let’s Go Zyon!!!

 

The crowd screams yet all the Patron Wrestler of Athens can do is bury his face into the mat and hold his back. MW though has regained his bearings and looks ready to add another win to his rookie record. The rookie champ grabs Zyon by the hair and powerfully whips him into the ropes. The cruiserweight viciously bounces off the ropes and comes back with a SNNNNAPPP dropkick!!!!

 

“SNAP!” Pete shills.

 

The hardcore control freak falls to the mat clutching his chest, gasping for precious oxygen. Zyon brings the energy by nipping up…or not. Instead Zyon slowly pulls himself up and exits to the apron rather than going toe to toe with a pissed of Ward who is still trying to piece together what went wrong. The violent Bavarian finally reaches his feet thinking off all the horrible things he will do to his opponent. Here is a hint these things are NOT noogie’s, wedgies, or the god awful wet Willy, they are much more graphic than any swirly. However, it is Zyon who bring the aggression by springboarding into the air and clubbing Ward in the face with a diving forearm smash!! MW falls to his knees leaning against the middle rope as the overanxious youth begs Ward to get to his feet. The hardcore champ obliges and walks right into a kick to the gut followed by a standing head scissor.

 

“Zyon’s going to win it with the Final Hour!!!” Pete isn’t biased or anything.

 

Everyone in attendance including Jay Hawke watches in anticipation as Zyon attempts to muscle Ward up…BUT HIS BACK GIVES OUT!!!

 

OH NO!

 

That is what most fans are thinking as the Unique Youth staggers backward, but looks to stay on the attack…SPINEBUSTER!!!!

 

King is ecstatic. “YEAH! You see that. That is what I call a spinebuster worthy of it’s own zip code.”

 

The camera pans to Jay Hawke who suspiciously jots something down on his clipboard. Zyon is like an egg in a frying pan as he simply lies on the mat sizzling with a spasm every few seconds. The youth’s earlier leg work has all been forgotten by Ward who feels no pain. That is because of two things, one being that Zyon couldn’t wrestle technically if his life depended on it. And two Ward is just a tough son of a loving and devoted mother. MW though is still feeling the effects of Zyon’s latest flurry, but the results aren’t what the fans wanted that’s for sure. The tough rookie lifts a spaghetti legged Zyon to his feet and proceeds to yell in his face.

 

“I’M IN TOTAL CONTROL!”

 

And with that Ward spins his opponent around and lifts him on to his back setting up the Total Control torture rack. MW attempts to bring his other arm over his opponent’s face/head enabling him to bend the fallen cruiser. BUT visions of failure and a broken back plague Zyon to the point of resistance. The youth uses all of his strength to fight off ONE HAND before breaking free of Ward’s control. In one fluid motion the countering light weight scales down Ward’s back and rolls the rookie up…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

“Your winner, ZYYYON!!!”

 

Referee Nick Soapdish quickly raises Zyon and Ward’s hand before ordering the two to shake hands from a distance.

 

“You have got to be…this is bullsh…” King isn’t enjoying himself any longer.

 

“Zyon with a brilliant counter to the Total Control.” Pete interrupts.

 

Jay Hawke has seen all he needs to as he quietly exits to the back his purpose unknown. Zyon weakly holds out his hand while Ward looks like he wants to kill everyone in the arena. “Vitamin” echoes while Ward contemplates if a major fine is worth it…and of course it isn’t. Ward quickly shakes the youth’s hand knowing he still beat Zyon for the hardcore title at the big PPV

 

But right now between a fans cheer and a tear the Unique Youth may have something else in store for his surprising career.

 

FADE TO BLACK

[Ace309 0]

SWF Lockdown returns from a commercial break and…HEY, LOOK! It’s a giant Hershey’s Kiss! Aww, he’s in the crowd signing autographs for the kids! Isn’t that cute? Hey…there is Manson! He’s come out to sign autographs with the giant Hershey’s Kiss! Aww…what a nice guy; signing autographs for kids with…Oh God…he just knocked the Hershey’s Kiss to the ground…Oh God, there is a fight going on in the crowd! Little kids are screaming and a particular little girl is crying her poor eyes out…Oh God, somebody get out here and stop this! For the love of…THIS IS A FAMILY SHOW! I can’t believe Manson got into another fistfight with an oversized chocolate…jeez…CUT TO THE ANNOUNCERS ALREADY!

 

“We are back in Hershey, Pennsylvania at Hershey Park,” welcomes Longdogger Pete, “We are live with SWF Lockdown!”

 

“I just got word from the back that our sponsors have seen a fight break between an SWF superstar and a Hershey’s mascot…we are in trouble now…” the Suicide King takes a second to tap his chin as if an idea has come to him, “Unless…WE BRAIN WASH ALL THE VIEWERS! They’ll never know it happened!”

 

A skeptical Pete gives King a jarring look and retorts with, “Looks like another fine for the SWF.”

 

“No! This could work! Let me just find my ‘ Brain Washing for Dummies ’ book!”

 

“Too late! A match is about to take place!”

 

Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl...

 

 

And then…

 

 

 

*BAM*

 

The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally…

 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

 

The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black “It Dies Today” hoodie, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee (“This entrance music is going to cost Spike at least five hundred dollars!”). After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring.

 

Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand (as always) and ready to get the show on the road. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and has a twenty minute time limit! First, making his way to the ring! Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty Pounds! Hailing from Hollywood, California!! He is ‘HOLLLLLLLYYYYWOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDD’ SPIIIIIIIIIIIIKE JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!”

 

Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style.

 

“Joseph Peters LOVES Spike Jenkins on Lockdown! Promoting his Straight Edge ways of being drug and alcohol free!” claims Pete.

 

“Considering how big of a pot-head Spike Jenkins was before…” starts King, who gets cut off by Pete,

 

“You can’t say that on Lockdown! The most we can is drugs!”

 

“Oh, come on, Pete. It’s not like I said doing pot was cool!”

 

At that moment, an official from the back pops up next to King and hands him an envelope. King, anxiously, opens the envelope…but the grin on his face turns sour as he reads aloud, “Fined Three Hundred Dollars…”

 

“Remember kids,” starts of Pete, “To be cool, you have to stay in school!”

 

“Make Me Bad” hits, the signature red and white sparks spraying skywards (and earthwards) as smoke seeps out of the stage, gathering around the curtain. The guitars hit, and they have the sight of a silhouette, highlighted by the sparks in the smoke, before Johnson emerges, his head down as the fans begin another unique chant.

 

”And his opponent!” booms Funyon, “Making his way to the ring! Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Nineteen Pounds! Hailing from Windsor, Ontario, Canada! He is J-AAAAAAY J-AAAAAAAY JOHNNNNNNNNNNSONNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!”

 

Johnson reaches the steps, throwing his hood back and striding up the steps. Johnson enters the ring and climbs up to the second ropes, holding his hands victoriously in the air. Both men enter the center of the ring where referee Meso Hornay asks them to complete the rules set forth for Family Friendly Lockdown ©, and asking both men to shake hands.

 

“I don’t know if asking these two to shakes hands is the smartest thing in the world,” remarks King.

 

“But to become the smartest thing…or PERSON in the world…DRINK MILK!”

 

“This is a joke…right?”

 

“No…But if you want the best jokes in the world, order ‘ Family Friendly Funny Magazine! ’ for your young child or those young at heart!” Pete ends the advertisement with a fake, but glossy smile. King just shakes his head in disgust.

 

Spike and Johnson stare at each other, before Spike makes the first move and puts his hand out to shake. Johnson, reluctant at first, comes to the conclusion that he can take anything Spike dishes out, so he wearily accepts the handshake.

 

“King, I must say. Under the circumstances this match went under to take place…I am very surprised in Spike Jenkins, who usually has a short temper, to be the man who…”

 

Before Pete can finish his sentence, Spike cracks Johnson in the face with a signature Shotei, knocking the former UFC fighter to the mat. Referee Hornay voices his displeasure, but Spike blows (get it?) right past him and begins kicking the man who attacked him from behind after his return match with Wildchild with kicks to the ribs.

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

“…Never mind…” says Pete.

 

“That’s another Five Hundred Dollar fine for Jenkins!”

 

“When Spike said he was declaring war on all of Creative Control…I didn’t think he meant Stephen Joseph too!”

 

Spike grabs a handful of Johnson’s hair and pulls him into a sitting position. From there, he locks his arm around the neck in a reverse front face lock, which resembles a dragon sleeper from the position they are in. Spike pulls Johnson up to his feet, holding him in a standing dragon sleeper! Spike uses his free arm to try and lock Johnson in for the Clean Living!

 

“Spike is going for the Clean Living VERY early in this match!” notes Pete, “The Clean Living is one of Jenkins’ finishers, though any move Jenkins uses can be a finisher…but anyway, it is a reverse swinging neck-breaker that is used from the position that Jenkins has Johnson in!”

 

Spike prepares for the Clean Living…but Johnson is able to free his arm and stun Spike with a backhand to the forehead. Johnson uses both hands to lock in a ¾ quarter chancery and flips Spike over with a snap-mare! Johnson wraps his arms around Spike’s neck with a chin lock, which Spike immediately fights to his feet to counter, but Johnson quickly turns it into a side headlock. Spike uses his arms to break the hold Johnson has and quickly grabbing his own side headlock! JJ is only stunned momentarily as he places his foot on the back of Spike’s leg and pushes him down to one knee. JJ pulls himself back out of the headlock. He grabs Spike’s arm and pulls it back behind his back with a hammerlock! Jenkins climbs to his feet and quickly counters back out of the hammerlock into his own hammerlock! Johnson goes to counter it himself, but Spike beats him to the punch as he slides in front of Johnson and locks in the cravat!

 

“This is a Spike Jenkins match so there must be ten minutes of chain wrestling!” cries The King.

 

“Oh please, it’s been hardly two minutes!”

 

“Then why does it feel like ten?”

 

“Oh, quite you. Jenkins and Johnson are just getting a feel for each other and their counters are so quick! But the big news is Spike getting JJ in his favorite chain wrestling maneuver, the Cravat!” says Pete as King feels another big explanation coming on, “The cravat is a ¾ quarter chancery that wrenches on the neck! It’s basically a nicer looking and harder to escape headlock with more power behind it!”

 

“Why can’t he just use a HEADLOCK?!?!?”

 

Johnson feels his neck being torn at, so he rolls to the mat, forcing Jenkins to roll forward and to break the cravat. They both land in opposite sides of the ring and jump to their feet, staring at one another from across the ring.

 

“A big feeling out process between these two.”

 

“Is that what you call it, Pete?” asks an annoyed King, “The first five-to-ten minutes of a Spike Jenkins match is the ‘feeling out process’?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“…I didn’t expect your answer to be so subtle.”

 

“LETS GO JENKINS!” *clap-clap, clap-clap-clap*

 

Both men inch towards the center of the ring. Johnson holds his hand out for Jenkins, trying to initiate a Greco-Roman knuckle-lock. Spike locks his hand with Johnson’s, giving Jay-Jay the chance to shoot down to the mat with a single leg takedown! From this point, Johnson has full control over Jenkins. But Spike isn’t the dumbest wrestler in the SWF and has studied Johnson, knowing full well that he is a former UFC fighter.

 

“Spike is trying to stay on his back here, keeping his legs to the side of Johnson’s waist in what is called in the shoot fighting world, a ‘guard position’ ! If Johnson decides to drop to the mat and use his UFC experience on Spike, he would have to fight out of Spike’s guard.”

 

“You must never get out at night…I mean, with you watching tapes of EVERY SPORT EVER CREATED!”

 

“Don’t insult me because I’m doing my job,” replies Pete.

 

Instead of dropping down, Johnson tries to turn Spike over onto his stomach for what looks like a half-crab. Spike pushes his elbow against the mat to make sure he doesn’t turn over as he slowly fights to stand on his free leg. Jenkins hops around while Johnson holds his other leg. Spike grabs Johnson’s fingers and rips them off his leg, freeing his leg, and quickly spinning underneath into an arm wringer! Johnson quickly counters it into his own arm wringer, pulls Spike in towards him, and takes him over with a release northern lights suplex! Johnson doesn’t release the arm as he floats over into a kneeling position and keeping Spike stuck in an arm bar!

 

“JJ Johnson, a former SWF Hardcore Champion, enjoys keeping control over his opponents with arm bars and other basic submission moves to keep them down on the mat for as long as possible,” notes Pete, “A real wear-and-tear attitude when it comes to the ring!”

 

Spike rolls backwards over his neck and onto his feet, but Johnson refuses to break the arm bar. Spike tears at the fingers again and rips away from the arm bar. With a hold on Johnson’s arm, he wrenches at the shoulder with another arm wringer! This time, instead of allowing Jay-Jay to counter it, he back heel trips Johnson to the mat! He drops down with Johnson and locks in an arm bar!

 

“Spike learning from his mistake earlier in the match when Johnson reversed out of the arm wringer and brings him down to the mat!”

 

JJ throws his leg into the air, wrapping it around Spike’s throat and pulling him off the arm bar into a leg scissors. Spike fights for air as he turns over in the hold to stand on his feet. He pushes himself up…into a headstand while still held in the leg scissors!

 

“LETS GO JENKINS!”

 

Spike leaps out of the headstand and out of the leg scissors onto his feet…and quickly snapping off a dropkick to the side of the head of Johnson! Johnson rolls out to the floor as Spike gets up to his feet and poses for the crowd!

 

“Spike with a dropkick that sends Johnson to the floor!” cries Pete.

 

“What the hell happened to the chain wrestling that Spike loves so much? A dropkick is not a part of chain wrestling!”

 

“He saw an opening and he took it!”

 

Johnson stumbles around on the floor, holding his neck. He tries to rub the kinks out of it that the cravats and dropkick have done so far. He turns around to head back into the ring…but walks into a hard slap by Jenkins! Johnson stumbles back, allowing Spike to hit him with another slap!

 

“Open palm strikes by Spike on the floor!”

 

“This is Lockdown! No fighting on the floor!”

 

Spike grabs Johnson by the wrist and Irish whips him into the closest set of guardrails, causing Johnson to just barely get his hand up for protection as he goes skull first into the barricade.

 

“What is he doing? Is he INTENTIONALLY trying to break every rule on Lockdown?” shouts the Suicide King.

 

“Sad thing is…I think he might be…”

 

Referee Hornay jumps out of the ring and gets into Spike’s face about his attack. Jenkins, simply, shoves Hornay out of the way, grabbing Johnson by the hair and pulling him towards the ring. He shoves the former UFC fighter underneath the bottom rope, with him following in tide.

 

“That HAS to be another Five Hundred Dollar fine!” cries King, “What is his count up to now, Pete?”

 

“So far…Fifteen Hundred Dollars…”

 

“Does he even get PAID anymore?”

 

Spike rolls Johnson onto his back and goes for the cover!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kick out! Spike climbs to his feet as he jaws with the referee. Johnson tries to crawl away, but is pulled up by Spike.

 

“You mean ramming him into the steel guard rail only got a two count? WOW!” says an impressed King, “Johnson must be a lot tougher than I thought!”

 

“JJ Johnson has a nice record in the hardcore division, King! On this past Storm, he defeated Ghost Machine in a hardcore match!”

 

“Look’s like Scott Pretzler may have a hard time defending that title.”

 

Spike pulls JJ off his knees and to his feet…but the former Ultimate Fighter shoves Jenkins backwards into the corner, sandwiching him. Referee Hornay jumps in between the two, trying to break them up.

 

“Johnson shoving Jenkins into the corner, obviously to give himself some time to recuperate.”

 

Hornay calls for a clean break, which Johnson apparently gives Jenkins…

 

 

 

 

 

…Until he catches him with a quick haymaker to the jaw!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

 

“Tell me WHY Johnson should give Jenkins a clean break?”

 

Johnson backs out of the corner with a big grin, as he shakes the pain out of his hand. Spike holds his jaw in pain…but bursts out of the corner quickly and shoves JJ into the opposite corner. With Johnson pinned back, Spike prepares to attack…but Referee Hornay jumps in and pulls Spike off, looking for a clean break.

 

Spike, reluctantly, backs off…allowing Johnson to hit another haymaker right to the jaw that knocks Spike down to one knee!

 

“No wonder Tom Flesher picked Johnson to take Spike out! He’s one of the smartest ‘new generation’ wrestlers I’ve ever seen!”

 

Johnson grabs Spike by the hair and pulls him back into the corner he was just standing in. Johnson leans back; ready to drive a forearm into the face of Jenkins…

 

 

 

 

 

…But catches Spike’s arm as he holds them up to block the shot! Johnson’s arm ricochets back, allowing Spike the opportunity to…

 

 

 

 

…SHOTEI!!! JJ Johnson crumples to the mat and rolls into the opposite corner!

 

[i’] “JENKINS! JENKINS! JENKINS!” [/i]

 

“Spike outsmarts Johnson and hits one of his trademark strikes…”

 

“One of TOM FLESHER’S trademark strikes…” King cuts off…

 

“Yes…him, too.”

 

Johnson climbs to his feet, his eyes filled with rage. He charges off at Jenkins…who catches him with an arm drag! They both get to their feet again…and Jenkins with another arm drag! Once more to their feet…and a THIRD arm drag! Spike quickly gets to a sitting position and pulls Jay-Jay up as well. He wraps his legs around the free arm of Johnson and pulls him over backwards onto his neck with a crucifix!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE---NO!! Johnson JUST kicks out of the pin.

 

“Johnson kicking out of a quick pin attempt that was meant to stun and daze him, rather than do actual damage.”

 

Johnson rolls to his knees, but Spike is their first to grab a front face lock! He wrenches on the neck, but Johnson quickly pushes his legs back into the ropes, forcing Hornay to break the hold.

 

“Spike releasing the hold and now up to his feet…with Johnson following him,” watches Pete, “Johnson still gripping at that neck of his…”

 

“Stop trying to point out weaknesses on someone who obviously doesn’t have any! Why don’t you point out the glaring weaknesses on Jenkins?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like his ring attire? Camouflage? What is that?”

 

Both men now standing, they enter the center of the ring. Johnson looks for another Greco Roman knuckle lock…that Spike accepts…and eats a boot to the gut! Jay-Jay grabs Spike by the neck and flips him over with a snapmare. Spike lies stunned on the ground as Johnson leaps into the air and drives both his boots into the abdomen of Jenkins!

 

“Double stomp by Jay-Jay Johnson! Taking a page right out of the book of Spike Jenkins!”

 

Spike rolls over, clutching his ribs. He tries to move away, but Johnson quickly turns him over. JJ leaps into the air, over the body of Jenkins, and comes crashing down, back first, over the ribs!

 

“Senton splash that must have knocked all the wind out of Spike!”

 

Spike sits up, grabbing his chest and stomach in pain. He breathes in hard gasps of air, trying to get oxygen into his body. Johnson grabs Spike by the hair and pulls him down to the mat and goes for the cover!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T---NO! Spike gets a shoulder up at two!

 

“Johnson gets a two count on Jenkins with the Double Stomp/Senton Splash combo!”

 

“Earlier tonight, Scott Pretzler accepted the challenge to defend the title against Johnson. But now look at this. Johnson is DOMINATING the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion in SWF history!”

 

“A good point to bring up, King,” says Pete, who stumbles over his own words, “WOW…did I really just say that?”

 

Johnson climbs to his feet and pulls Spike up with him. With Spike knelt over, Johnson goes for an attack…but Spike lands a back elbow to the ribs! And a second! And a third! Spike gets away from Johnson’s grasp and charges into the ropes…where he bounces off and comes back for a high-speed attack…

 

 

…Only to meet a Kawada Kick right to the face that sends him down to the mat in a hurry!

 

“Kawada Kick right to the face! Spike was barely able to put up a hand to block it, but still took a great amount of impact from that shot!”

 

Johnson grabs Spike by his hair and pulls him into a sitting position…and unleashes a stiff kick straight to the back of Jenkins! The ground winces as Johnson smacks another kick to the back! Johnson releases Spike’s hair and connects with a dropkick to the back of the head that sends a loud *CRACK* sound throughout the arena!

 

“OHMYGODWHATADROPKICK!”

 

“Puts the one Spike did earlier in the match to shame, huh, Pete?”

 

Spike falls over to the mat, looking lifeless. Johnson pulls him over into a cover!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

THR—NO! Spike gets a shoulder up!

 

“Near fall for Johnson!”

 

Spike pushes Johnson off of him and rolls into the corner, holding the back of his head. Johnson calmly climbs to his feet, as he stalks towards the corner Jenkins is hiding in. Grabbing Spike, he pulls him up to his feet, leaning him against the corner. JJ wields back…and CHOPS Jenkins across the chest!

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOO”

 

Spike grabs his chest and kneels over, trying to protect it from any more abuse. With this opportunity, Johnson grabs Spike by the arm and wrenches it down to the mat, locking in a Fujiwara arm-bar! Johnson tears back at the arm, trying to separate Spike’s shoulder. He screams out in pain as he uses his free arm to reach towards the ropes.

 

“Well, look at that, Pete! Spike Jenkins seems to be in a pickle!” laughs King; “He’s stuck in one of the most dangerous submission moves in our business by a submission specialist!”

 

“A Fujiwara arm-bar is a very agonizing hold. Especially considering it’s being strapped on by a man like JJ Johnson!”

 

Johnson rips and tears at the arm of Jenkins, who continues screaming in pain. Spike uses his free hand to push himself up. Using all the strength he can, he pushes himself up onto his knees. With this newfound leverage, Johnson is forced to follow as he is now on one knee. Spike uses his speed to counter out of the hold, as he rolls forward onto his feet. Johnson tries to get to his feet, but is quickly brought back down by Jenkins the same way JJ did for the Fujiwara. This time, though, Spike wraps JJ’s arm behind his head and locks in a Crippler Crossface-type maneuver!

 

“THE STRONG ISLAND STRETCH! THE STRONG ISLAND STRETCH!” screech’s Pete, “The Crippler Crossface, but with the arm trapped behind Jenkins’ neck!”

 

The crowd explodes as JJ struggles towards the ropes. Spike pulls back on the neck as much as possible, while trying to put some extra leverage on it as he leans back in a crab-like standing position. JJ reaches for the ropes…

 

 

 

 

…But Spike pulls back even more on his neck!

 

 

“JENKINS! JENKINS! JENKINS!”

 

 

“Is Jay-Jay going to tap out?” questions Pete.

 

“No! Jay-Jay is going to break the hold or get to the ropes!” says King, “I’m sure of it!”

 

Spike wrenches back on the neck…

 

 

 

 

 

…But Johnson grabs the ropes with his free hand!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 

Referee Hornay calls for Spike to break the hold, which he reluctantly does. Both men lie next to each other, gasping for air to get into their fatigued bodies.

 

“Johnson just getting to the ropes, breaking out of the Strong Island Stretch!”

 

Spike begins climbing to his feet, shortly followed by Johnson.

 

“Both men slowly climbing to their feet, very slowly. Already exhausted, as both men have been hitting each other with stiff strikes throughout this contest!”

 

Both men kneel over, but Johnson is the first to strike as he hits Spike with a knee strike right to the side of the head. Spike stumbles back, clutching his head as he falls to one knee. Johnson turns around and heads towards the opposite ropes. He hits them and charges back towards the now standing Jenkins…

 

 

“YAKUZA KICK!” shouts Pete.

 

 

 

…But Spike dodges out of the way! Spike gets behind Johnson and quickly locks him in a full nelson!

 

 

“DRAGON SUPLEX!” shouts Pete, again.

 

 

Johnson tries to fight the full nelson off, but Spike holds onto the hold. He lifts JJ into the air, but Johnson just won’t go over. Even with his sore neck, Johnson is able to pull away from Jenkins, breaking the full nelson. Johnson quickly turns towards Spike, snap kicking him into the gut. Johnson pulls Spike into a T-Bone Suplex position. He lifts Spike up into the air, and when Spike is perpendicular to the mat, Johnson drops down, driving Jenkins head first into the mat!!!!!

 

“UDV! UDV!” shouts King with great joy!

 

“Victory by Unanimous Decision!” cries King, “A head-drop T-Bone Suplex! Spike Jenkins was just dumped on his head!”

 

Spike lays motionless on the mat, as Johnson floats over and covers him for the win!

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OMGNOHEKICKSOUT!!!!!

 

“Spike kicked out of the UDV! I don’t believe it!”

 

“This is not possible…” King stammers, “There is no way he kicked out of that!”

 

Johnson sits up, looking at Referee Hornay in complete disbelieve. Johnson jumps to his feet, pulling Spike up with him. Jenkins drags his body, trying to stay down as long as possible, either to have some time to recuperate or simply because he is dead weight at this time. Pulling Spike up, he tries to lift the Hollywood Superstar up onto his shoulders for a DVD…but while trying to lift him up, Jenkins throws four weak forearms to save as much time as possible. Johnson lets go of Jenkins, holding on to his arm, and unleashes three stiff kicks straight to the chest, that send an echoing *CRACK* sound throughout the arena. With Jenkins nearly falling over, Jay-Jay pulls Spike onto his shoulders and lifts him up for a DVD.

 

“Death Valley Driver by JJ Johnson!”

 

 

 

 

…But Jay-Jay’s bad neck gives out with Spike’s weight on top of him and Spike falls backwards behind his opponent. With the free opportunity, Spike pulls Johnson into another full nelson!

 

“The DVD countered into a Dragon Suplex!” shouts Pete.

 

 

…But Johnson swings wild elbow strikes into the temple of Spike! Spike breaks the full nelson and stumbles back, also holding his stiff neck. JJ stumbles forward, but quickly shoots forward looking for the Superkick!

 

 

 

 

 

…But Spike just BARELY dodges it as the kick shoots past his ear…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…Johnson turns back to Jenkins…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…Who hits him with a YOU-TRIED-TO-DO-A-SUPER-KICK-BUT-HEY-TRY-THIS-ROLLING-LARIAT-ON-FOR-SIZE-LARIATOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

 

“ROLLING LARIAT!” cries Pete, “Johnson just got dropped on his injured neck with that lariat!”

 

“NO!!!!”

 

It is now Johnson’s time to lay motionless on the mat. Spike shoots up to his knees and quickly turns Jay-Jay over, looking to finally end this match.

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOMGJOHNSONKICKEDOUTOFTHELARIAT!!!!!!!

 

 

“Yes! Now that is how it is suppose to be!”

 

Spike, silently, rolls off of Johnson, and continues rolling out underneath the bottom rope and onto the apron. Spike pulls himself to his knees, as he tries to make his way to the top rope. Inside the ring, Johnson slowly rolls around, trying to get to his feet.

 

“A back-and-forth contest between these two men,” says Pete, “Both men fighting for their own reasons. JJ Johnson, fighting for the chance to go into his Cruiserweight Title match with some momentum. Jenkins, fighting for the chance…to…well…stick it to the man!”

 

“Fight the man! Down with Bush!”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Spike makes it to the top rope, exhausted from his long trip from the apron to the third rope. Johnson climbs to his feet and charges into the corner. Jay jumps onto the middle rope and springboards up into the air, looking for a dropkick…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…But Spike just pulls himself out of the way just in time, causing Johnson to crash into the mat!

 

“Johnson misses the springboard dropkick! This might be the change in momentum Spike needed!”

 

Johnson holds his ribs as he climbs up to his feet. With Spike perched on the top rope, he leaps off into the air…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…And comes crashing down with a knee to the back of Johnson’s head/neck!!!!

 

 

“SUPER EGO TRIP!!!” shouts Pete, “The Diving Enzu knee from the top rope!”

 

“He stole that from Tom Flesher! That’s blasphemy!”

 

“Well, it’s actually Spike’s version of the Ego Trip…”

 

“His version IS Tom’s version!”

 

“Not exactly…”

 

Spike lands hard on the mat, but crawls towards the now nearly unconscious Johnson. Spike rolls him over onto his back…and covers him!

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

 

“Spike Jenkins pulls off the victory!”

 

“Damn it!” cries King, “Tom Flesher and the rest of Creative Control are NOT going to be happy about this!”

 

“Black Label” starts up, as Spike pulls himself to his feet. Referee Meso Hornay calls for Spike to shake Johnson’s hand. Jenkins leans over, grabbing one of Johnson’s hands, lifting it off the mat and throwing it back down. Meso Hornay gets in the middle of both men, lifting one arm of Johnson’s off the mat and Spike’s in the air.

 

“One of the several new Lockdown rules, where both men’s hands will be raised in the air…because here on Lockdown, everyone is a winner!” Pete says with a very happy tone!

 

 

 

 

…Just then, Spike kicks Johnson in the head…

 

 

 

“That’s uncalled for!” shouts King, “By the way, Pete, how much money will Jenkins be fined?”

 

Pete sighs, “Nearly two thousand dollars.”

 

“Well, that makes me happy!”

 

 

 

 

 

And SWF Lockdown goes to a commercial break!

 

 

 

[FIN]

[Ace309 0]

FADE IN

 

“Welcome back to Lockdown,” says Longdogger Pete. “We’re about ready for our next match, which will see the newcomer Nick Blum go one-on-one against the Wildchild. And King, both of these young men are looking to get back on track with a win here tonight!”

 

“And I have to say that all of the pressure in this match is on the Wildchild,” chimes the Suicide King. “He suffered a demoralizing defeat at the hands of El Luchadore Magnifico, where he did everything but guarantee a win, and came up short. If he loses here tonight, it could be a setback that takes him weeks to recover from!”

 

“I’m not prepared to go there,” replies Pete. “Wildchild has proven that he can press anybody to the limit. He’s a threat to beat anybody in the fed at any time! But I will say that I’m inclined to question his level of intensity coming into this match.”

 

“Well, if he comes into this match with less than full intensity, he’s going to end up on the losing end of this match,” offers King. “This kid Blum made a good showing last week on Storm, as well as at Ground Zero, and he’s going to be incredibly hungry for a win tonight!”

 

“Just as long as he doesn’t suffer from overconfidence,” counters Pete. “Many men have made the mistake of taking Wildchild lightly. Nick Blum is a little out of the Cruiserweight limit, so he’s sure to be more interested in some of the other titles, but Dub Cee isn’t someone you want to look past, King! We’ll find out if he is prepared to give it his all tonight, as we go to the ring and the irrepressible Funyon!”

 

The SWF’s impeccably dressed announcer stands in the center of the ring, having changed during the break into a white tuxedo with a gold bow tie, and matching wingtips. Raising the microphone to his lips, he says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a ten-minute time limit, and it will be contested under Cruiserweight Rules!”

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

With that, the camera directs viewers towards the top of the SmarkTron to the Hitlist, standing on top of it. Blum secures the harness around his waist before plunging from the top of the SmarkTron down to the stage. The fans cheer as he removes the harness and makes his way down to the ring, determination evident in his eyes.

 

“Look into those eyes,” says King, noting the intense expression on Blum’s face. “That doesn’t look like somebody who’s looking past his opponent; that looks like somebody’s who’s about to run THROUGH their opponent!”

 

“Introducing first,” says Funyon, “making his way to the ring at this time… From Harrisburg, North Carolina, and weighing two hundred thirty-five pounds… the Hitlist, NIIIIICK BLUM!” Blum makes his way to the edge of the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope to enter the ring.

 

“You don’t get any more focused than that,” states King. “I don’t see how you can possibly have any doubt about Nick Blum here tonight!”

 

“The kid’s focus is indeed remarkable, no doubt about that,” replies Pete. “He probably realizes that he can catch the express train to the top of the SWF with a big win here tonight!” As Blum leans back against the turnbuckles, the enthusiastic Pennsylvania fans begin cheering wildly as the arena lights dim and fade to black:

 

 

ATTENTION!

 

 

ALL YOU NIGGAZ!

 

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 MOTHERFUCKA…

 

 

Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” whips the fans into a frenzy as the Caribbean Cruiser bounds onto the stage! In between the alternating flash of the white-hot spotlight, the Bahama Bomber can be seen holding his title overhead inciting the fans to cheer ever louder, before jogging down the ramp, slapping hands with fans at ringside as he makes a beeline for the ring.

 

“His opponent,” says Funyon, as Wildchild somersaults into the ring, “from the Bahamas, weighing two hundred fourteen pounds, he is one-half the SWF World Tag Team Champions… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild rolls gracefully to his feet and glances sideways towards Blum before walking confidently over to the edge of the ring, where he leaps onto the middle turnbuckle and holds his arms high overhead as Reggie Noble screams:

 

I CAN’T GET IN DA CLUUUUUUB!

 

“There’s no shortage of confidence in the Wildchild,” notes LDP, as Funyon exits the ring. “You’d never be able to tell that he’s coming off a big loss!” Wildchild climbs down from the ropes and then surrenders his title to referee Ronald “Red” Herrington. Wildchild and Blum shake hands as Herrington walks over to the edge of the ring and delivers the tag title belt to Funyon, and then orders the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bell’s gone,” shouts Pete. “And we’re underway!”

 

Wildchild and Blum immediately approach each other and engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Blum muscles Wildchild towards the edge of the ring and into the ropes. The referee demands a clean break, and Blum acquiesces, backing away towards the center of the ring. Wildchild approaches him once more, and as Blum steps towards him, shifts to the side, grabbing his opponent by the wrist and whipping him towards the edge of the ring, but the Hitlist quickly reverses, sending the Wildchild into the ropes instead…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… And leaping into the air as Wildchild rebounds, whipping his lower body around sharply to smack him in the face with a spinning wheel kick! Blum returns quickly to his feet and simply glares at Wildchild, who uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet.

 

“Credit Nick Blum for getting the better of Wildchild on that exchange,” says King.

Nick and Wildchild meet in the center of the ring yet again, locking into another collar-and-elbow tie-up, this time with Wildchild managing to trap the rookie in a side headlock. Blum leads Wildchild back against the ropes and then pushes him off, launching him across the ring, and leveling him with a standing shoulderblock as he bounces off the ropes.

 

“That may actually be the best strategy for Nick Blum,” remarks Pete. “Make the most of his weight and strength advantage.” Wildchild remains on the mat as Blum bounces off the ropes again and runs over the top of him. He springs to his feet as Nick rebounds a second time and immediately leaps into the air and over the top of the Hitlist as he runs underneath back across the ring…

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

… And springs without hesitation back off of the canvas, flipping backwards as Blum rebounds a third time and blasting him squarely in the chest with a backflip kick! Wildchild rolls back to his feet at once and runs over to Blum, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him across the ring, but the Hitlist easily reverses again, sending Wildchild into the ropes. Nick turns to the side and scoops Wildchild up off of the mat as he rebounds, but the Human Hurricane continues to swing his lower body up towards the Hitlist’s head, wrapping his legs around Nick’s neck and jerking him off of his feet, flipping him forward and to the mat with a dynamic headscissors takeover!

 

“Nick Blum appeared to be looking for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker on that exchange,” says Pete, “but Wildchild reversed it into a headscissors takeover, and now he’s got the rookie reeling!”

 

“Well, Nick Blum has never dealt with someone quite as fast as Wildchild before,” adds King. “He’s accustomed to being the smallest and the fastest man in the match, and he’s not used to competing against opponents that are smaller and faster than he is, but I just have a feeling that he’s going to be able to wear Wildchild down tonight!”

 

Wildchild waits for Blum to get to his feet before running towards the edge of the ring, leaping onto the top rope and springing back towards his opponent, landing in a seated position on Nick’s shoulders. Before the Caribbean Cruiser can wrap his legs around the rookie’s head, Nick pushes him off forcefully, and he flips backwards gracefully down to the canvas…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… But the Hitlist rolls forward suddenly, slashing his heel through the air and blasting Wildchild on the top of the head with a rolling Koppou Kick that sends him tumbling out of the ring and down to the arena floor!

 

“Amazing Koppou Kick to counter that Hurricanrana attempt!” shouts Pete. “Nick Blum showing tremendous ring presence so far in this match!” Nick steps out onto the ring apron and turns to face the inside of the ring as Wildchild gets back to his feet, before hopping onto the bottom rope and flipping backwards out onto the arena floor…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Crashing into the Tropical Tumbler with a picture-perfect Asai moonsault! Blum pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to the edge of the ring, rolling him underneath the bottom rope back into the ring, before using the ropes to pull himself back onto the ring apron. Upon standing up, he grips the top rope with both hands before using it to sling himself into the ring…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Landing on top of Wildchild with a slingshot Senton splash! He leans backwards, holding Wildchild’s upper body to the canvas with his own as the referee dives into position to assess the three count:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

 

“Wildchild able to kick out from that half-hearted cover at two,” notes Pete, “but Nick Blum is wasting no time trying to win this match; he’s being very aggressive here tonight!”

 

 

“As well he should be,” agrees King. “This match has a ten-minute time limit; he can’t afford to waste time. Besides, you don’t want to give Wildchild enough time to react to your game plan; the best strategy against him is to hit him hard, fast and often! Don’t give this guy even a second to catch his breath, because he’s so fast, he can string together a sequence of moves before you know what hit you!”

 

Blum pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, and lowering his head as Wildchild rebounds to lift him into the air with a backdrop, but the Bahama Bomber flips all the way through and lands on his feet behind the rookie. Wildchild runs to the edge of the ring, but Nick cartwheels in the center of the ring as he bounces off the ropes…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Springing into the air suddenly and twisting around crashing into the Caribbean Cruiser with a cartwheel body press!

 

“Cartwheel into a high cross body!” exclaims Pete, as Herrington dives into position. “Tremendous agility by the rookie; I didn’t even know he had that move in his arsenal! That was incredible!”

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE—

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

Wildchild kicks out from the pinfall attempt, but not without considerable effort. From outside the ring, Funyon raises the microphone to his lips and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, five minutes have gone by in this match! There are five minutes remaining. FIVE minutes!”

 

“Did you hear that?” asks LDP. “Only five minutes left! Nick Blum had better kick this into high gear!”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about Blum,” replies King nonchalantly. “He appears to have this match well in hand!” Blum pulls Wildchild up to his feet and then ducks down, positioning his head between the Caribbean Cruiser’s legs before lifting him up overhead, dangling him down over his back. The crowd begins to cheer in anticipation of Blum’s offense.

 

 

“Looks like we could see a Yebeishi Drop coming up here!” notes Pete.

 

But before Nick can secure his grip on Wildchild’s legs, the Tropical Tumbler wraps his arms tightly around the rookie's waist and tips his legs backwards, trying to take him over in a Sunset Flip, but the Hitlist hangs onto the ropes! As the referee asks Blum to release the ropes, Wildchild takes advantage of the distraction to get away from his opponent and run across the ring. Nick turns around in time to see the Wildchild rebounding off the ropes and lowers his head to allow Wildchild to leapfrog him, but the Bahama Bomber appears to stop himself in mid-flight, landing on Nick’s back and hooking his legs underneath the Hitlist’s arms. Before Blum can figure out what’s going on…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Wildchild jerks his body towards the canvas, wrapping his arms around Blum’s waist as he rips him through the air, planting him into the mat with a Code Red Powerbomb!

 

“Code Red!” shouts Pete, as Wildchild flops backwards onto the canvas. “But he can’t hold him for the pin! Nick Blum’s early offense must have worn him out!” The Caribbean Cruiser finally pulls himself up off of the mat and leans forward to press Nick’s shoulders against the mat as the referee dives into position to count the pinfall:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

“Kickout!” shouts King. “Wildchild hasn’t done enough damage to take him out!”

 

Wildchild rolls away from Blum, and then returns to his feet. He runs towards the rookie as he gets to his feet and leaps into the air…

 

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But Nick catches him in midair and spins him around, driving him down onto his knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker!

 

“And there’s the tilt-a-whirl backbreaker he was looking for earlier!” cries LDP. “He got him that time!”

 

“Wildchild is down and out,” adds King, as Blum heads over to the corner. “But what the hell is Blum doing?”

 

Nick steps out onto the ring apron and grabs onto the top rope. Without a word, he leaps onto the top rope and spins around before he flips forward into the ring, directing the point of his elbow towards Wildchild’s throat…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber rolls into the corner, and Blum hits nothing but canvas as he crashes down!

 

 

“Oh my!” cries Pete. “Nick Blum went for the proverbial home run with that 180 elbow smash, but he appeared to have tried that move prematurely!”

 

“Absolutely,” agrees King, as Wildchild uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. “This is the time when you want to rub Wildchild’s face into the mat, and continue to wear him down; there was no need to try to go for the ‘home run,’ as you put it, in that circumstance! Now he’s given Wildchild a little bit of breathing room… and we both know that a little bit is all that Wildchild needs to turn the tables on a match!”

 

Wildchild pulls Blum to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle! Before the rookie can even stagger out of the corner, the Human Hurricane launches himself forward with breakneck speed, leaping into the air as he draws near the corner and twisting his body around…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Crashing into the Hitlist with his patented Blue Crush body splash!

 

“Blue Crush,” shouts Pete. “That move drives all of the air right out of you! That could be the break that Wildchild needs to take over this match!” Wildchild races towards the edge of the ring as Blum staggers out of the corner, and leaps into the air as he bounces off the ropes…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But Nick runs underneath him and grabs him by the waist, spinning around in one fluid motion and slamming the Bahama Bomber into the canvas with his patented spinning Spinebuster!

 

 

OOOOOOOOOOH!

 

 

“Spinning Spinebuster!” screams LDP as the crowd cheers emphatically. “He hit that out of NOWHERE!”

 

“So much for Wildchild taking over this match,” chortles King, as Blum drops to one knee, shaking his head vigorously to clear the cobwebs. He stands up and pulls Wildchild to his feet, moving behind him and wrapping his arms around Wildchild’s waist before lifting him up…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And dropping him backwards to the mat with a German Suplex! He maintains his bridge for a pinfall, as Herrington begins the count:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

“Good grief, was that close!” sighs Pete, as Wildchild barely rolls his shoulder off of the canvas in time. Nick gets to his feet and drags Wildchild over towards the corner, positioning him parallel to the ringpost before climbing up to the top turnbuckle. The fans rise to their feet in nervous anticipation as Nick looks out into the crowd.

 

“What do you suppose he’s going to do from here,” wonders Pete. Nick turns around and then leaps fearlessly off the top turnbuckle; rotating his body four hundred and fifty degrees…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… And crashing into Wildchild’s chest with his patented 450º Splash!

 

 

“Firebird Splash!” exclaims King. “That’s gonna do it; we’re going to Upset City!” The crowd counts along with the referee as his hand slaps against the canvas:

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

“Not yet,” shouts Pete, as Herrington stops his count just short of three. “Wildchild got his foot underneath the bottom rope!”

 

“He lucked out there!” growls King, as Blum looks up at the referee, frustration etched all over his face. “There was no way he was going to kick out of that!”

 

“Still, give credit to Wildchild for good ring awareness,” says Pete. “He knew exactly where he was in relation to the ropes, and that enabled him to hang on, if only for a few moments longer!”

 

“Ridiculous,” argues King, as Blum returns to his feet. “That was sheer instinct! Wildchild’s not smart enough to be that calculating!”

 

“Why King,” mocks Pete, “you sound like you have a rooting interest in this match… Surely an unbiased professional like yourself wouldn’t be taking sides, would you?”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” interrupts Funyon, “seven minutes have gone by in this match! There are three minutes remaining. THREE minutes!”

 

“Only three minutes left,” cries Pete. “Can Wildchild hold on?”

 

Nick pulls Wildchild to his feet and pushes him against the ropes…

 

 

SMACK! WHOO!

 

 

… Before rearing his harm back and slicing it into the Bahaman’s chest with a reverse knife-edge chop!

 

 

SMACK! WHOO!

SMACK! WHOO!

SMACK! WHOO!

 

 

Blum chops into the Bahama Bomber a few more times before grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him across the ring. The Hitlist grabs Wildchild as he bounce off the ropes and lifts him up into a bearhug…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Before driving him down onto his knee with an inverted Atomic Drop! As Wildchild bends clutches his lower body in pain, Blum runs back towards the ropes, and launches himself back towards Wildchild with surprising speed, his arm extended to deliver a fierce running clothesline…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

 

… But as quick as Nick Blum is, Wildchild is even quicker, and he ducks the clothesline attempt, slashing his leg up as the rookie spins around to blast him in the mouth with a shuffling sidekick!

 

“Sidekick!” shrieks Pete. “Wildchild still had enough left in the tank to duck that clothesline, and hit the sidekick on Blum!” As Blum staggers backwards from the force of the kick, Wildchild races towards the ropes, leaping onto the top rope and curling into a ball as he springs off…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Smashing into the Hitlist’s chest with his patented Pinball attack! Both men lie motionless on the canvas as the referee begins his count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “eight minutes have gone by in this match! There are two minutes remaining. TWO minutes!”

 

“Oh my goodness!” shouts Pete. “This match is going down to the wire! There’s not much time left for one of these two to come away with the victory!”

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

At the count of nine, Nick sits up to the cheers of the crowd. He rolls over onto his knees and crawls over to the Wildchild, who still hasn’t moved, and collapses on top of his chest. Herrington dives down to the mat and counts the pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE— NO!

 

 

 

“My Gawd!” sighs LDP. “Wildchild kicked out! He will not stay down!”

 

“Blum had better stop screwing around and put him away,” adds King. “He’s running out of time!” Blum pulls Wildchild to his feet and goes behind him to apply a waistlock. He lifts him up off of the canvas to deliver a strong backdrop suplex, but the Human Hurricane rolls through, flipping off of Blum’s shoulders and landing behind him. The Bahaman runs past the Hitlist to hit the ropes, and leaps into the air as he rebounds, whipping his leg sharply through the air to deliver a leg lariat, but Nick ducks down at the last second to avoid him.

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

Blum races towards the ropes as Wildchild gets back to his feet and grabs him by the hair as he rebounds, driving him into the mat with a bulldog face-slam!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” shouts Funyon, “nine minutes have gone by in this match! There is one minute remaining. ONE MINUTE!” Blum gets to his feet as Wildchild rolls over onto his stomach and runs towards the edge of the ring. He leaps onto the middle rope and springs backwards….

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Flipping through the air before crashing into Wildchild’s back with a textbook Quebrada! He rolls the Wildchild onto his back and hooks the leg as the referee drops down to count the shoulders:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

“Kickout,” shrieks Pete. “And Blum’s time is running out!” Nick pulls Wildchild to his feet and pushes him back into the corner. He grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, sending the rookie crashing into the turnbuckles instead. Wildchild races into that same corner and leaps into the air, twisting around before crashing into his opponent…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But this time, the Hitlist dives out of the way, causing Wildchild to crash into the turnbuckle pad! As the Bahama Bomber staggers out of the corner, Nick kicks him in the midsection to stun him, and then traps his head and arm…

 

 

WHAM!

 

… Before falling back towards the canvas, crushing Wildchild’s face into the mat with the Complete Shot!

 

“Nick Blum scores with the Complete Shot!” shrieks LDP. “But, can he capitalize on it in time!” Blum rolls Wildchild onto his back and races towards the edge of the ring.

 

 

“Looks like he’s going to try for that elbow again!” croaks King. Nick once again leaps onto the top ropes, spinning around before he springs into the ring, and measures Wildchild’s throat as he recklessly comes in for a landing…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And pulverizes Wildchild’s throat with his 180 elbow smash!

 

 

“He hit it!” shouts King. “That’s it! It’s over!” Nick hesitates just a fraction of a second to ensure that Wildchild can’t reach the ropes before hooking his legs for the cover. Red Herrington immediately dives into position to count the pin, and the crowd counts along with him:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREEEEE—

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

The crowd erupts as Blum rolls off of Wildchild in relief.

 

 

“He’s done it!” exclaims King. “What a major upset here in Hershey!”

 

Everybody in the Hersheypark Arena appears to be celebrating except for the referee, who looks outside the ring with a bewildered look on his face.

 

“Wait a minute, King,” says Pete, as the referee walks over to the edge of the ring. “I think there may be something wrong here!”

 

Blum climbs onto the middle turnbuckle, his arms raised above his head in triumph as the referee leans outside the ring, conferring with Funyon.

 

“That settles it!” crows King. “I told you, Drain-Clogger! I told you that Wildchild was going to lose today!” Nick climbs down from the turnbuckle and the Bahama Bomber finally begins to recover, and walks over to the referee to have his hand raised but he is suddenly stopped by the sound of Funyon’s voice:

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “before the referee counted three, the time limit had expired…”

 

 

BOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

The crowd becomes incensed as the announcer continues, “There was no pin… I repeat, No Pin! The referee has officially ruled this contest… a DRAW!”

 

“What an unfortunate break for young Nick Blum!” sighs Pete, as the crowd continues to emphatically voice their displeasure. As Funyon begins to make his way back to his seat, Nick Blum walks over to the edge of the ring and demands the microphone from him.

 

“What do you suppose the kid has to say?” ponders LDP, as Nick grabs hold of the microphone.

 

“Hey!” shouts Nick. “I didn’t come here to Hershey, Pennsylvania, just to go home with a tie! I came here to win… and I want… FIVE! MORE! MINUTES!”

 

 

The fans erupt at Nick’s suggestion, and begin to chant their agreement:

 

 

LET THEM FIGHT!

LET THEM FIGHT!

LET THEM FIGHT!

LET THEM FIGHT!

 

 

“Nick Blum wants a chance to let the match end on a definitive note,” says Pete. “But referee Red Herrington’s not going for it!”

 

“Wildchild can count his blessings that this is live television, and that we have to follow a programming schedule!” gripes King. “There’s no way that he could have gone to a sudden death against Nick Blum!”

 

“Disappointing outcome for the rookie,” agrees Pete. “But what an impressive showing by Nick Blum! He took Wildchild to the limit, and if it weren’t for the time limit, he would have come away victorious here tonight! Hopefully the Championship Committee took notice, and we’ll see Nick Blum getting a shot at some gold in the very near future! Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen; we’ve got lots more family fun on Lockdown, right after this!”

 

Red Herrington raises both wrestlers arms after the match, with Nick Blum looking understandably peeved…

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Ace309 0]

Pete: “And as family-friendly Lockdown continues, we’re getting ready for a huge title match. Jay Hawke, the SWF’s International Champion, defends against Ghost Machine.”

 

King: “Well, we’ve seen Jay Hawke over the last two weeks coming down and apparently scouting the competition. On Storm, he was at ringside checking out Ghost Machine’s match with JJ Johnson. That added scouting should be the edge he needs to take out Ghost Machine’s programming and retain the title.”

 

Pete: “Ghost Machine was on a roll leading into Ground Zero, getting that huge win over Manson. That match is what put him in line for this shot at the International gold.”

 

King: “And as much as I hate to do this, I’ll give him a little bit of credit. He had a shot against Ejiro Fasaki for the World Title several weeks ago, and he came very close to getting the gold that night. But Jay Hawke just has a knack of getting key victories over key opposition when it looks like his back is against the wall. This one should be very interesting indeed.”

 

Pete: “And with that, let’s go up to Funyon for the introductions of this match.”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30 minute time limit, and it is for the SWF International Championship!”

 

“Mr. Roboto” begins to play on the PA.

 

King: “This isn’t his normal music.”

 

Pete: “Joseph Peters figured this was more family-friendly.”

 

King: “I kinda like it.”

 

Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger! Accompanied to the ring by JL Crunk … weighing in at 312 pounds, and hailing from Parts Unknown … GHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST MACHINNNNNNNNNNNE!”

 

Ghost Machine slowly makes his way to the ring, spitting on ringside fans as he slowly walks down the aisle.

 

King: “By the time he gets to the ring, Genesis will be over.”

 

Pete: “You’re exaggerating just a bit, aren’t you?”

 

King: “Hey, he only got this title shot because JL Crunk found a golden ticket inside of a Take 5 bar.”

 

As Longdogger Pete shoots a look at Suicide King that says “What are you smoking, anyway?”, the music changes to familiar strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly”.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent … hailing from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … the reigning and defending SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

As the lights dim and Jay Hawke emerges into the spotlight, the music is being overshadowed by a familiar chant from the crowd:

 

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

The chants continue until Hawke hits the ring, as it’s unlikely Joseph Peters can enforce a $500 fine against each of the 8,000-plus in attendance. As the champion enters the ring, he slowly removes his glittery purple-and-black robe, revealing the International Championship belt to be strapped firmly around his waist. He taps at the belt as the crowd continues to jeer the champion.

 

Pete: “He seems awfully cocky here, King.”

 

King: “Yeah, he does. And he has a right to be. Nearly two full months as the International Champion, and that belt is becoming synonymous with the Dean of Wrestling.”

 

Scott Ryder takes the belt from the champion and holds it over his head as Pete says “Hopefully for him, that cockiness doesn’t come back to haunt him.” Ryder then hands the belt to the timekeeper before asking both wrestlers to shake hands.

 

King: “Oh yuck. Sportsmanship. Can I request that Riley become the full-time Lockdown color analyst?”

 

Pete: “Please no.”

 

With the handshake complete, Scott Ryder turns back toward the timekeeper’s table, pointing a solitary finger toward the ringside table:

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Pete: “There’s the bell, and this championship contest is underway!”

 

Jay Hawke and Ghost Machine glare at each other, looking into each other’s eyes to see if they can get a sense of what their opponent is planning. Hawke asks for Machine to move forward, and he does. Machine reaches forward to grab the champion, but Hawke deftly moves to his side to avoid his much slower opponent. Hawke smiles, sensing he might have the key to victory. He asks Ghost Machine to move forward again, and again he does, only for Jay Hawke to side step him at the last moment. Hawke smiles and turns toward the crowd. That brief moment of distraction costs him, as Hawke turns around, his face getting walloped by his challenger’s outstretched hand.

 

Pete: “Ghost Machine just leveled Jay Hawke with a tremendous right hand! I think he actually hurt him with that one!”

 

King: “That should be merely a minor inconvenience for the Dean of Professional Wrestling! Nothing to worry about!”

 

Hawke briefly holds his face right around the eye, then turns angrily toward Ghost Machine. Letting his anger get the best of him, Jay Hawke locks up with his much stronger challenger, who uses the power advantage to simply toss the champion down to the mat. Hawke looks up at his opponent with eyes wide as saucers, partly out of shock and partly out of surprise he actually tried to match power with his opponent.

 

Pete: “And this is one thing the champion doesn’t want to have to do. He doesn’t want to try to match power with the challenger.”

 

King: “You know what Jay Hawke’s like. He’s got to have something in particular in mind.”

 

Jay Hawke decides to try to lock up with Ghost Machine again, despite the fact that he has been unable to gain any sort of advantage thus far. This time he grabs Machine’s left arm and twists it, wringing it out to his left side. Hawke then moves in, hooking his right arm underneath Ghost Machine’s left to try and hiptoss his opponent down to the canvas. Machine blocks it, then uses his right arm to grab Hawke by the back of the head and throw him face down to the canvas. Jay Hawke holds his nose in agony, then quickly rolls to the outside of the ring to gather his thoughts.

 

King: “OK, now I’m getting a little bit worried.”

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke can’t seem to figure out how to combat the strength of his much larger challenger, and because of that he’s been unable to sustain any sort of advantage.”

 

Jay Hawke rolls back into the ring. As he stands, Ghost Machine slowly charges forward. Jay Hawke catches him coming in with a hard forearm smash, and the blow seems to stagger his opponent ever-so-slightly. Machine moves forward again, and Hawke blasts him with an ever harder forearm into the masked face of his challenger that sends him reeling. Jay Hawke then bounces off the ropes, but as he charges forward, Ghost Machine leans into him with a shoulder block that sends the challenger down to the mat and rolling out to the floor.

 

Pete: “This is amazing. Every time Jay Hawke gets anything at all going, one move from Ghost Machine turns the momentum completely around!”

 

Jay Hawke heads over to the broadcast table, looking at King and shouting, “This guy’s tough, King. It’s like he’s a machine or something!” King replies with “Every machine has a way of being turned off, you’ll get him,” as Hawke returns to the ring.

 

Pete: “You’re not supposed to be out here giving advice to the wrestlers, King.”

 

King: “What advice? I was merely telling him he can always find a way to win.”

 

Back in the ring, Ghost Machine grabs Jay Hawke and locks him up collar-and-elbow. The challenger pulls down on his more experienced opponent’s head and begins driving a series of knee strikes into the head of the International Champion. The fourth of these strikes knocks Hawke down to the mat, and Ghost Machine immediately falls to the canvas and goes for the pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout. JL Crunk shouts at Ghost Machine to hook the leg next time, and Jay Hawke rolls toward the ropes. Ghost Machine lumbers right behind him, just fast enough to catch the champion with a flurry of punches as he starts making his way to his feet. The challenger follows it up with an elbow that spins the champion around, then he hooks Hawke’s head and neck before snapping him backwards to the canvas.

 

Pete: “Russian legsweep by Ghost Machine, and he’s going for the cover again!”

 

 

ONE!

 

Ghost Machine hooks the near leg.

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Pete: “Another kickout, and had Ghost Machine hooked the far leg instead of the near leg, we might have crowned a new champion right there!”

 

King: “But we didn’t crown a new champion right there, Pete! That’s the difference!”

 

This time Jay Hawke is unable to roll away from Ghost Machine. Instead, the machine picks up the champion and whips him into the opposite turnbuckle. Machine charges, but Hawke’s speed advantage comes into play as Hawke side steps the oncoming Machine a split-second before contact, causing the challenger to hit the turnbuckle hard. The challenger staggers backwards, and Hawke quickly runs into the ropes, rebounding and taking his larger opponent down with a hard clothesline.

 

King: “And there was the counter that might have turned this one around, Pete! He waited for the challenger to charge in, and he was simply too fast for the attempted avalanche to work the way it was supposed to!”

 

Jay Hawke approaches his fallen challenger and slaps in a reverse chinlock.

 

Pete: “And this is where the Dean’s conditioning might end up playing a factor. Ghost Machine gets winded more easily than a lot of SWF wrestlers, and a move like this can wear a big man down in short order.”

 

King: “And we saw Jay Hawke go almost 25 minutes at Ground Zero before picking up the victory, so we know he can outlast Ghost Machine if he can stay out of his reach.”

 

Ghost Machine maneuvers his way to his feet. He fires two, three, four elbows into the champion’s stomach, forcing the champion to release his grip. Ghost Machine then runs into the ropes, but Jay Hawke catches him coming back in with a picture-perfect dropkick to the face. Jay Hawke drops down, immediately hooking the far leg:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR -- kickout. JL Crunk slaps the mat to try to rally his charge on, but Jay Hawke begins to work on Machine’s back and neck by driving a series of knees between the shoulder blades. After a fifth knee, he grabs a hold of the Machine’s chin and pulls back with all of his might.

 

King: “And now you’re getting to where Jay Hawke is at his best. He’s going to begin wearing his opponent down for that Wing Span!”

 

Pete: “Can he even get that hold on a man this size?”

 

King: “I don’t know. Arch Griffon wasn’t much smaller than Machine is, and you saw how Jay Hawke wound up doing during that series of matches. But with as many ways to win as Hawke knows, will he even need the Wing Span to pick up the victory?”

 

Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by, 25 minutes remain in the time limit.”

 

Jay Hawke maintains his hold of Ghost Machine’s chin, adding as much force as he can to the hold, the veins in his arms nearly popping out of his skin.

 

Pete: “And as you hear Funyon’s announcement of the time remaining in this contest, I have to think the shortened 30 minute time limit actually favors the challenger.”

 

King: “In a sense, because there’s only so much the match is going to be extended, but it also means Hawke doesn’t have to do as much to simply run the time limit down to retain the championship.”

 

Pete: “Of course, on Lockdown it doesn’t matter who wins and loses.”

 

King: “Tell that to the men in that ring who are risking their bodies to be crowned International Champion.”

 

Jay Hawke releases his grip on the chin, but he drops three more knees into the upper spine of Ghost Machine to keep the pressure on. The champion makes his way to his feet, only to drop right back down with a leg across the back of the neck. Jay Hawke covers, once again hooking the far leg for leverage:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR -- kickout.

 

Pete: “Another kickout by Ghost Machine, but he already seems to be gasping for more and more air with every shot he takes from the champion.”

 

Jay Hawke drops an elbow across the upper back of Ghost Machine, then locks in another reverse chinlock.

 

King: “And with Hawke using headlocks on Ghost Machine, he’s going to continue to wear the challenger down. Outside of that opening minute or two where Ghost Machine’s power gave him the decided edge, Jay Hawke has wrestled a brilliant match thus far.”

 

Once again, Ghost Machine uses his power to make his way to his feet. Jay Hawke tries to maintain the pressure on the chinlock, but Ghost Machine picks his opponent up onto his back. The challenger sets himself, seemingly ready to fall backwards to drive his weight on top of his opponent, but Jay Hawke shifts his position just a little bit to lock on a new hold.

 

Pete: “Sleeperhold in the center of the ring!”

 

King: “Jay Hawke has this one hooked in well, and I don’t care how big you are! If you get locked in this hold, you’re going to go down faster than Heidi Fleiss…”

 

Pete: “Family-friendly.”

 

King: “Faster than prices during a Best Buy clearance sale.”

 

Pete: “That’s better.”

 

The hold has the challenger dropping to one knee with his sizable arms beginning to go limp at his sides. The Dean of Professional Wrestling tightens his grip, and Scott Ryder puts his hand underneath Hawke’s arm to make sure it isn’t a chokehold.

 

Pete: “The challenger’s fading, King!”

 

King: “Exactly! Just as I predicted all along!”

 

Ghost Machine summons up whatever strength he can muster to regain his footing. Before he can even think and possibly talk himself out of it, Ghost Machine falls backwards, driving all of his body weight on top of Jay Hawke with full force. Hawke releases the hold, his shoulders hitting the mat. Scott Ryder quickly slides down to the mat:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH -- kickout.

 

Pete: “Only a count of two, and Ghost Machine once again came less than a second away from winning his first championship here in the SWF!”

 

King: “Maybe so, but after as long as he was trapped in that hold, I’m not sure he’s aware enough of his surroundings to follow it up!”

 

Ghost Machine, still groggy after nearly a minute in the sleeper, slowly makes his way to his feet. Jay Hawke is to his feet a second later, and the Machine drives a chop into Hawke’s throat. He follows it up with a couple of hard right hands, then another throat chop that backs the champion against the ropes. Machine charges, getting as much momentum as he can. He clotheslines Jay Hawke, who takes a tumble over the top rope and down to the arena floor in front of the broadcast table.

 

Pete: “Tremendous clothesline by Ghost Machine there, and he’s got the champion reeling!”

 

King: “Hawke should just take the countout here and be done with it. Walk out of here with the title and fight another day.”

 

As Scott Ryder begins exercising his ten count, Jay Hawke grabs a bottle of water off the broadcast table. “Hey, that’s mine!” shouts Pete as Hawke takes a quick sip. The Dean of Professional Wrestling then slides into the ring with the open bottle of Dasani, and he begins throwing the water at Ghost Machine’s shoulders.

 

Pete: “What does he think he’s doing?”

 

King: “I think … is he trying to short circuit Ghost Machine?”

 

All of Ghost Machine’s circuits are still operational, but the water attack has JL Crunk hopping up onto the ring apron, begging Scott Ryder to disqualify Jay Hawke. With the referee distracted, Jay Hawke drops to his knees and lifts an arm between Ghost Machine’s legs….

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

Pete: “Low blow! Jay Hawke resorting to a low blow to take Ghost Machine down!”

 

King: “Whatever works! Do whatever you can to retain the championship!”

 

Jay Hawke drops to the mat and wraps his hands around Ghost Machine’s throat, trying to cut the flow of oxygen away from the lungs. JL Crunk physically spins Scott Ryder around until he sees the choke, and the rookie referee moves in to start his disqualification count:

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Jay Hawke releases the hold, but he immediately stomps Ghost Machine in the head before dropping down for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH -- kickout.

 

Pete: “Only a count of two for the champion there, and Hawke locks in a front facelock on his fallen challenger!”

 

King: “But there’s a subtle move there by Jay Hawke that would normally go unnoticed! Technically, had he covered after a choke, Ryder wouldn’t have been able to count the pin! So the Dean adds a legal stomp, and that makes it a legal cover!”

 

Pete: “And to top it off, he goes back to another headlock, once again trying to cut the air away from his already winded challenger.”

 

King: “And no amount of cheering from JL Crunk is going to help Ghost Machine here! We could very well be on our way to the end of this championship match.”

 

Not if Ghost Machine has anything to say about that. Though clearly fatigued from the strategy the champion has been using, the challenger still summons up enough strength to get to one knee. Jay Hawke tries to tighten the grip and possibly add a chokehold, but his challenger makes his way to his feet. Ghost Machine lifts Jay Hawke into the air and tries to throw him, but Jay Hawke kicks his legs in the air, hangs on to his opponent’s head, and drives him down to the mat with a thunderous DDT that bounces the challenger’s head three inches off the mat.

 

Pete: “What a tremendous DDT! This one could be all over!”

 

King: “I think it is all over! Jay Hawke’s going for the pin right here!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRE -- Ghost Machine gets a foot on the bottom rope. Jay Hawke stands up, celebrating with both arms in the air at what he thinks is a clear three count, but Scott Ryder pulls the arms down. Hawke just looks at Ryder incredulously as Ryder pantomimes what happened to keep the match going.

 

King: “And this is very unlike Jay Hawke!”

 

Funyon: “Ten minutes have gone by, 20 minutes remain in the time limit!”

 

Pete: “You’re right. I’ve never seen him celebrate before hearing the final bell!”

 

As the champion argues with the referee, Ghost Machine gets to his feet unbeknownst to Jay Hawke. The champion turns around, right into the arms of the challenger. Ghost Machine briefly squeezes Jay Hawke with a crushing bear hug, then spins around, driving his opponent to the mat.

 

Pete: “Belly-to-belly suplex! Arguing with the referee proves costly for the champion!”

 

Ghost Machine goes for the pin, and for the first time tonight, he’s got the far leg grapevined … and the crowd counting right along with Scott Ryder:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout!

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Pete: “But not enough to put the champion away!”

 

Ghost Machine slowly makes his way to his feet, but he quickly doubles over, putting his hands on his knees.

 

Pete: “And the challenger is clearly fatigued here!”

 

King: “Well, the longest match he’s been in was around 12 minutes or so, and we’re nearly at that point now. He might not have enough left in him to put Hawke away.”

 

Ghost Machine summons enough energy to run into the ropes. Hawke makes it to his feet, only to get taken right back down by a double-ax handle with 312 pounds of force behind it. Pete shouts, “Maybe he does! Cover him!” Sure enough, the challenger does cover him:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR -- shoulder up!

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Pete: “And that was even closer!”

 

King: “Jay Hawke might have underestimated his opponent! That’s all I can think of!”

 

Ghost Machine gets to his feet, more lethargic than ever before, but he has enough sense to pull the champion to his feet. Ghost Machine sends Jay Hawke hard into the opposite turnbuckle with an Irish whip. Ghost Machine then takes a couple of steps backwards towards the opposite corner. He charges forward…

 

 

CLANG!

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

…but runs into nothing but turnbuckle, as Hawke gets out of the way a fraction of a second before impact. Thinking quickly, he hooks his challenger’s head into a reverse chancery, then drops him down, driving the back of his larger opponent’s head onto his knee. Hawke quickly puts on a lateral press and covers:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR -- kickout!

 

Pete: “And again only the count of two! No matter what Jay Hawke attempts to do, he can’t bring Ghost Machine down for the final three count!”

 

Jay Hawke pulls Ghost Machine to his feet, hooks in a front facelock, then spins the challenger around so he drops onto the back of his head.

 

Pete: “Swinging neck breaker, and Jay Hawke goes down for another cover.”

 

 

ONE!

 

King: “He’s got him for sure this time!”

 

TWO!

 

 

THR -- kickout.

 

Pete: “No! Either out of sheer instinct or sheer determination, Ghost Machine kicks out!”

 

King: “Or sheer stupidity! I can’t believe he’s still in the match!”

 

Jay Hawke places three well-placed knees into the ribs of his challenger, further trying to wind his already heavily-lumbering opponent. He follows it up with an elbow into the back of the neck, and the masked challenger crumbles to the canvas. Jay Hawke, sensing victory, figures one big move will be enough to get the final pinfall. He steps between the ropes onto the ring apron, waiting for his opponent to get to his feet.

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke could be taking a big chance here! He could be on his way to losing his championship once and for all by waiting this long!”

 

King: “You know Jay Hawke, Pete! He’s always got a plan!”

 

As the challenger finally gets to his feet, Jay Hawke leaps, using the top rope as a springboard and catching his opponent underneath the chin with a stiff lariat. Ghost Machine’s neck snaps back as he falls to the canvas, and “had Hawke hit that move any harder, we would have proven whether Ghost Machine has veins or wires underneath that head of his,” claims Suicide King. Jay Hawke covers, hooking the far leg:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRE -- Kickout!

 

Pete: “Another kickout by Ghost Machine! Where is he coming up with the energy to kick out?”

 

King: “He’s obviously got some backup power somewhere!”

 

The champion, becoming increasingly frustrated, slams his hand on the mat. Obviously, it’s going to take one more move to put his opponent away. Jay Hawke climbs up to the middle turnbuckle on the inside of the ring, once again waiting for his fatigued challenger to get to his feet. As the Machine does, Jay Hawke leaps, doing a front flip as he reaches for his opponent’s neck…

 

 

THUD!

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

…but landing on nothing but canvas, as Ghost Machine ducks out of the way just in the nick of time!

 

Pete: “He missed! Jay Hawke going for that blockbuster neck breaker, but Ghost Machine moved out of the way!”

 

King: “He passed out! What do you mean he moved out of the way?”

 

JL Crunk immediately begins pounding on the ring apron, as he feels this might be Ghost Machine’s final opportunity to get the championship! “FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!” The words of encouragement seem to revitalize the challenger, who makes his way to his feet. Jay Hawke pulls himself to his knees, and Ghost Machine is right there to drive a knee into the ribs, then another into the face. The champion tries to roll away and stand, but Ghost Machine moves in and drives another knee into the midsection to double Hawke over.

 

Pete: “A series of hard knees, and…he’s going for it all here, King!”

 

King: “He’s setting him up for a piledriver!”

 

Knowing that if the piledriver connects, he can kiss the title goodbye, Jay Hawke immediately plants his right foot behind him. That simple move is enough to widen his base and avoid being lifted by Ghost Machine. Ghost Machine drives a series of forearms into the champion’s back, then summons up some extra energy from the reserve tanks to lift Hawke in the air. The champion keeps kicking his legs, then hooks them around Ghost Machine’s head, turning a potential piledriver into a triangle choke.

 

King: “What an incredible counter!”

 

Pete: “Indeed! Hawke’s still in an awkward position here, but he’s got all the pressure around Ghost Machine’s carotid artery!”

 

JL Crunk feverishly pounds on the ring apron as Ghost Machine struggles for every bit of oxygen he can possibly suck into his lungs. With his lights going out, Ghost Machine makes one last ditch effort to lift Jay Hawke and drop him down, but Hawke tightens his grip on the head scissors as Ghost Machine drops to one knee.

 

King: “He’s fading!”

 

Pete: “I’m not sure he can get out of it!”

 

It doesn’t appear so, as Ghost Machine falls forward, the champion still maintaining his grip on the hold.

 

Funyon: “Fifteen minutes have gone by, 15 minutes remain in the time limit!”

 

Pete: “Halfway through the time limit here, and I think Ghost Machine is out cold!”

 

Scott Ryder moves in and, after checking Hawke’s shoulders to make sure they’re completely off the canvas, reaches for the challenger’s arm.

 

 

He lifts it…

 

 

…it falls.

 

 

He lifts it…

 

 

…it falls.

 

 

He lifts it…

 

 

…

 

 

…it falls.

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

King: “He did it!”

 

Pete: “Somehow, someway, Jay Hawke has found a way to once again retain the title!”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 15 minutes, 22 seconds … your winner of this contest … and STILL the reigning SWF International Champion …JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

Scott Ryder receives the championship belt from the timekeeper, then hands it to Jay Hawke, who clutches onto it like a child hanging on to his favorite teddy bear for dear life. Scott Ryder raises Hawke’s hand in the air as the crowd boos.

 

King: “What an impressive showing Jay Hawke! Ghost Machine is unlike any competitor Jay Hawke has ever faced here in the SWF, and he came out of here with an absolutely tremendous victory!”

 

Pete: “Ghost Machine gave it everything he had, but it came down to conditioning!”

 

King: “Exactly! Hawke wore Ghost Machine down in the early going, and a man that size simply can’t continue going at the pace he was going for that length of time!”

 

Jay Hawke, still holding on to his title belt, rolls out of the ring and heads to the locker room.

 

King: “And I’ll give him credit Pete. That was the longest match of his SWF career! He simply ran out of gas!”

 

Pete: “One big move just a little bit sooner, and this could have been a much different result.”

 

Ghost Machine, finally somewhat conscious, makes his way to his feet as JL Crunk enters the ring to check on his charge. As he stands, Scott Ryder raises his hand into the air…

 

King: “What is this?”

 

…and the crowd applauds.

 

Pete: “This crowd appreciates the effort the challenger gave tonight, King!”

 

King: “It was a valiant effort, but the bottom line is that even on family-friendly Lockdown, you can’t become a champion without winning the match.”

 

Pete: “But Ghost Machine took a huge step forward in his SWF career here tonight. Still to come, the fantastic main event featuring Ejiro Fasaki and Landon Maddix! Don’t go away!”

 

 

FADE TO COMMERCIAL

[Ace309 0]

"Well, it's now time for our main event and it promises to be an intriguing one, King. Ejiro Fasaki, former World Heavyweight Champion, set to take on Landon Maddix, former World Heavyweight Champion. Both guys obviously want the belt and this could be seen as an unnofficial #1 Contendership Match by our esteemed booking committee."

 

"Esteemed?" scoffs King. "Did you see the memo they've given us?"

 

"You mean, the new Family Friendly Lockdown Rules. Gee-willikers, King, they're awesome!"

 

"If you ask me, they're a bunch of bullsh...er, uhm...frog."

 

"Bullfrog?"

 

"Yeah, you know...as in, they make me hopping mad. Heh."

 

"I see."

 

"Yeah. Can't wait until they make Tom become SpongeTomFlesherPants or some other such idiocy. And, speaking of idiocy, we've got Ejiro versus Maddix in the main event tonight. Which braintrust thought that'd be a good idea. Yeesh! And another thing...since when did each show need a gimmick?" King pauses. "We...we can say gimmick, right?"

 

"I don't see why not."

 

"So, I could say, 'he jammed his gimmick right up her cu..."

 

"WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA!!"

 

 

 

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

 

...WAAAAAHHHHH...

 

*DUM DUM*

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

The family crowd aren't exactly friendly right now, booing wildly as "Megalomaniac" by Incubus hits. A special, edited version, with mention of the dreaded f-word dubbed over with a horn and a slide whistle. Stepping through the curtains, Landon Maddix stops at the top of the stage and surveys the crowd, thrusting his arms out to the side to another tumultitude of boos. A large bandaid is noticeable on Maddix's forehead as he walks towards the ring, battlescars from the Casino Brawl still evident on his upper body also.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for your MAAAAIIINN EVENT!" booms Funyon, channelling the power of Todd Grisham momentarily. "It is scheduled for one fall, with TV time remaining. Introducing first, from Huron, South Dakota...weighing in at two hundred, twenty two pounds. His favourite super-hero is Spiderman! This is LANDON... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIXXXXXXXXX!!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Favourite super-hero!?!" groans King.

 

"Hey, kids want to know that sort of stuff." shrugs Pete.

 

Maddix leaps to the apron and pulls himself to his feet, once again holding out his arms to soak up the boos and jeers from the rowd, before vaulting in over the top rope. Removing his jacket, Maddix's upper body sports even more small scars now, all of which a reminder of what happened at Ground Zero. All of which firing up even more ahead of this crucial match.

 

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPOPPOPPOP!

 

Suddenly, the immortalistic machine-gun pyro of Ejiro Fasaki fires up across the stage, heralding the arrival of the dethroned Champion. Fasaki is clearly in no mood to mess around tonight as he storms out through the curtains and begins to stride down the rampway. The crowd applaud Ejiro, not that he seems to notice, too busy heading straight for the ring.

 

"And, his opponent. From Sarasota, Florida...he weighs two hundred and twenty three pounds. His favourite super-hero, Judge William Hearford..."

 

"Eh, he's good, but he's no super-hero." muses King.

 

"...the two time, former SWF World Heavyweight Champion of the WOOORRLLDD... EEEEJJJIIIIIIRRRRRROOOOOO... FFFFAAAAA - SSSAAAAAKKKIIIIIIIIII!!!"

 

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Getting a much warmer reception tonight than in Las Vegas last time out, Ejiro jogs determinedly up the ring steps and enters the ring.

 

"E - JI - RO!"

"E - JI - RO!"

"E - JI - RO!"

 

Off comes the yellow robe and Ejiro is ready to go, the word 'former' in his introduction grating through him and evoking the memories of Ground Zero also. But before Ejiro can kick the match off, he's stopped by referee Nicky Soapdish and held back from a pre-emptive strike. With the fans behind him, Ejiro is ready and waiting. Quite what he's waiting for though, he's not sure. Until Soapdish finally motions to first Ejiro, then Maddix, that they both have to shake hands. A sneer from Maddix seems to say 'Yeah, right, as if'...and Ejiro doesn't seem much more anxious to shake hands himself. Rules are rules though and Soapdish again calls in Ejiro and Maddix, again motioning for them to shake. Ejiro eventually steps forward, but Maddix stays firmly rooted in his corner.

 

"Oh no, don't tell me he's going to break the Code Of Honor!"

 

"DANGERRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSS~!"

 

Soapdish continues to hassle Maddix and finally, tiring of his arguement with someone he's not exactly had a good relationship with in recent weeks, Maddix relents and walks forward. A tense moment commences as Maddix and Ejiro come face to face, Ejiro extending...and Maddix shaking.

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Satisfied, Soapdish calls for the bell in mid-handshake...which allows Ejiro to suddenly whip underneath Maddix's arm, applying a hammerlock before Maddix has chance to know what's happening! Maddix drops to his knees as Ejiro quickly tightens the hammerlock, ignoring a reprimand from Hardcastle for his skullduggery as he does so.

 

"YYYYYEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

"Ejiro has never been one to play to the rules, but you've gotta think he'll be even more sneaky tonight." points out Pete. "After all, he's in the ring with someone equally as treacherous as he is, if not more so!"

 

Maddix comes back to his feet as Ejiro eagerly wrenches the arm up towards his opponent's shoulder blades. Grimacing, Maddix reaches back, looking to grab Ejiro's head and lever his way out. A flick of the head from Ejiro stops that. So Maddix goes low, between the legs, trying to pull a foot away. Ejiro avoids that too and suddenly spins Maddix around to face him. The hammerlock is still applied with one arm, as Fasaki scoops low with the other and lifts Maddix up, planting him with a Hammerlock Slam! Instantly Landon snaps up to his feet, clutching his arm and howling in pain. Ejiro promptly grabs him again, re-applying his hammerlock and re-gaining his hold on the opponent. A snarl from Maddix shows that already he's frustrated. But he's not beat yet, wrapping his legs around Ejiro's and twisting to the side, taking Rule's vertical base away. Both men scramble back to their feet, Maddix not bothering to chain his reversal into a hold, proving to be a mistake as Ejiro instantly whips off a DEEEP~ armdrag! Ejiro bars the arm as he lands, trapping Maddix once more to the delight of the crowd.

 

"And so far, Ejiro is keeping his cool, despite clearly being disappointed at his loss at Ground Zero."

 

"Well, Ejiro's a professional." admits King. "He knows that Landon couldn't wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag and he also knows that, if he can keep his cool, he'll probably have this match wrapped up with no problems."

 

Adding his knee to the side of Maddix's head, Ejiro tugs upwards with his armbar in an attempt to tug Landon's shoulder from it's socket. Soapdish drops down, checking for a submission, getting a firm 'NO' from Maddix for his troubles. Continuing to tug on the arm, Ejiro steps forward and turns Landon over onto his front. Now sat on the shoulder of his opponent, the former World Champion rocks back and forth, loosening up the socket...before suddenly dropping back. As Fasaki takes the arm with him, Landon knows he's in trouble and desperately tries to lace his fingers together to prevent a cross armbreaker being applied. And when that fails, he even more desperately shoots a foot over the bottom rope, to force a break.

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE!"

 

"FOUR!"

 

"FI..."

 

Ejiro holds the arm until the last moment, perhaps hoping he could pull Landon away. Frustrated at Soapdish, Landon pulls himself up and starts to argue with the official to be less lenient with his count next time. Beside him, Ejiro patiently watches on as Maddix eventually finishes his verbal tirade, turning around and getting swept over with another armdrag takeover by Fasaki!

 

"Landon needs to get his mind off the official and on Ejiro Fasaki here!" criticises Pete.

 

"Well, it doesn't help that Nick Soapdish has been assigned for the match. Let's face it, Landon is pretty good at holding grudges for little to no reason."

 

"Of course, you'd know nothing about that."

 

"I have plenty of reasons to hold a grudge against this kid. Infact, it this were a longer show, I'd gladly list them for you." offers King, removing a folded length of paper from his jacket and displaying it to Pete.

 

In an effort to stay family friendly, Landon holds his expletives in his he finds himself flat on his face, Ejiro holding his arm in a hammerlock with the knee pressed against the elbow. Keeping Landon's arm pinned down, Ejiro then springs off his toes and drives a knee into the hammerlocked arm. Maddix groans in pain, as Ejiro grinds his knee primatively into the back of the arm to add more pain. With his left arm holding Maddix's right in place, Ejiro then hooks back the free left arm with his right. Both arms of Maddix are now controlled and he's helpess as Ejiro leans back and positions him on his shoulders with a pinning combination...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW...

 

Maddix kicks out, falling forwards...and finding his arm still trapped in the hammerlock.

 

"Clever pinfall attempt by Ejiro. He gambled on a surprise pin, but at the same time didn't risk losing his original hold."

 

With the hold applied, Ejiro is now facing the opposite direction from Maddix, placing a knee either side of Landon's head to keep him further pinned down. Maddix's arm is in more of a chickenwing than a hammerlock now as Ejiro pulls from above rather than below. Trying to find an escape, Maddix pushes up onto his knees. His head is still trapped, but with a little re-adjustment, he manages to prise his head from between Fasaki's legs, allowing him to elevate up onto (free) hand and knees. Immediately, Landon then twists to the side, turning his back on Ejiro and climbing back up, the hold on the arm now back to a traditional hammerlock. Ejiro wrenches the arm upwards again to try and subdue Maddix. A back elbow leaves Ejiro dazed though, a second allowing Maddix to reach back and catch Ejiro unawares into a 3/4 facelock. Pushing off from the mat, Maddix tries for a snapmate. Ejiro is wise to his tactics though, releasing Landon suddenly as he hangs in mid-air, causing him to drop straight south with his body weight crushing his arm underneath!

 

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!"

 

The crowd groans as Maddix writhes on the canvas in agony. Pressing a hand to his temple, Ejiro shakes off the effects of the elbows before going back on the offence. Ejiro pulls Landon's arm from underneath his body, flattening it out on the canvas and driving a boot into the shoulder. Maddix recoils and clutches his arm with gritted teeth. He's soon in more pain though, as Ejiro re-flattens the arm and pinpoints a spot to drive a sharp knee into!

 

"Ejiro, ruthless on this arm, which is usually his strategy." points out Pete. "But it's doubly effective tonight, as of course Maddix suffered a minor injury to that arm during the Casino Brawl and actually had to have stitches to close a wound on his right bicep."

 

"I doubt Ejiro is smart enough to know that, but regardless, family friendly joy and praise to him, and such."

 

Pulling himself back up, Maddix throws a desperation left-handed forearm towards Fasaki, which he easily evades, leaving Maddix wide open for a boot to the gut. Applying a front facelock, Ejiro pops his hips and Maddix becomes a sudden, snap suplexed blur as he's taken over in textbook style. Ejiro rolls straight over and follows with a pin...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW...

 

Maddix shoots an arm up...

 

 

...but Ejiro grabs that same arm, applying a quick armbar on it.

 

"E - JI - RO!"

"E - JI - RO!"

"E - JI - RO!"

 

The fans are loving the display of dominance on Ejiro's part, chanting his name as he pulls back on the arm. Maddix drags himself to his feet despite the pain his arm is in, trying to formulate some escape plan. Before he can put anything into action, Ejiro wrings the arm back into a hammerlock which causes Maddix to drop to his knees in a mixture of frustration and pain. Happy to relax his focus slightly for a moment, Ejiro reaches up and ruffles the precious locks of The Next Generation. That predictably frustrates La Cucaracha, hurriedly trying to fix his hair as he snaps to his feet and storms around trying to alert Soapdish's attention to the not exactly illegal tactic...so Ejiro wrenches on the hammerlock again, dropping Maddix back to his knees. The hammerlock is slowly but surely weakening Landon's arm and he knows it, forcing himself back up to his feet. Landon reaches back as he gains a vertical base, applying a 3/4 facelock. Thinking he knows what's coming next, Fasaki apparantly doesn't think too much of the plan as he lets Maddix hold on, waiting for him to jump up like earlier. Clearly, he isn't expecting Landon to suddenly dive forwards, planting an unprepared Ejiro on his forehead with a Snapmare Driver!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Great counter by Landon, but he's going to have trouble capitalising with that arm injury." comments Pete.

 

Maddix rolls away from Fasaki, clutching his arm and looking a little surprised to have hit his first real offensive move of the match. His opponent is laid flat out, prompting Maddix to forget about his arm injury and rolls Ejiro onto his back for a pin...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

T..

 

Kickout.

 

Ejiro is comfortably out before three, but Maddix has bought himself time to recover now. Retreating to the corner, Landon tries to rub some feeling into his numb limb while Ejiro slowly drags himself back up. As he does, out of the corner charges Maddix, stopping just in front of Ejiro and pushing himself up onto Ejiro's shoulders one-handed, before tumbling back with a HurriLanrana. Ejiro rolls through to his feet, but is clearly dis-orientated, falling back into the ropes. Grabbing him there, Maddix sends Ejiro out with a laboured irish whip. Bearings re-gained, Ejiro puts the skids on and slides to a stop in mid-ring, but Maddix is prepared early, diving at Ejiro as he comes to one knee...

 

 

"SHINING WIZAAAAAA..."

 

 

...DUCKED!! Landon crashes forward, landing on his right side and folding his arm up underneath the rest of his body again!

 

"Ejiro, narrowly evading that Shining Wizard which has been the finish of many high profile matches in Maddix's career."

 

"Well, he went for too much too early, simple as that." is King's critical response.

 

Rolling off of his arm, Maddix remains down and hurting. Ejiro meanwhile staggers up, shaking off some cobwebs before encouraging Maddix to get back to his feet. Doing just that, Maddix clings onto his arm in agony as he turns around slowly. Ejiro catches him with a quick boot to the gut, before snatching Landon's arm from his grip and wrenching it up beside his head with an overhead wristlock. With that applied, Ejiro places his leg behind Landon's and tries to back-trip him to the canvas. Rather than fall straight to the mat, The Next Generation puts up a fighting, bridging backwards until his head reaches the canvas. In that position, Landon seems ready to attempt an escape. Ejiro is a step ahead however, sweeping Maddix's legs from underneath him and breaking the bridge. Quick as a flash, Ejiro then places Maddix's palm flat on the canvas, elbow protruding, driving a knee down into the awkwardly positioned arm! Landon is left writhing in agony again, as Ejiro now goes into what he had planned originally, lacing Landon's arm between his legs, before applying a short arm scissors.

 

"And once again, Maddix finds himself in a frustrating predicament." Pete calls. "Namely, a submission hold focusing on the right arm."

 

"A submission hold he's clueless over how to get out of too." King makes sure to note.

 

"Well, Ejiro knows that perfectly well, which is why he's going back to submissions holds...back to a slow pace. Ejiro can afford to take his time tonight. Which is important, considering he's coming off that tough match with Johnny Dangerous last Sunday."

 

As Ejiro pulls back on the hold and waits for a possible submission, Maddix makes his move and rolls backwards, ending up on his front with Ejiro on his, the hold still applied but in the wrong position to have maximum effects. Wisely, Ejiro notices this and changes his grip, coming to his knees with an armbar applied. Ejiro stops as Maddix reaches his knees, bringing a knee up into the sternum, before taking the arm by the wrist. With his right leg behind the shoulder, Ejiro uses his left in front to turn behind Maddix, applying a hammerlock with his legs...leaving his hands free to apply a rear chinlock in a unique looking submission hold. He then makes the hold look even more unique and even more painful, as he leans back, arching Maddix over his knees.

 

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Wow. I don't know what the hell to call that." admits Pete.

 

"The end?" King suggests cheekily.

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

 

Maddix finds himself bent the wrong way in this unorthodox hold, Ejiro still pulling back with the chinlock, Maddix's arm still trapped in the modified hammerlock. The crowd are begging Landon to give it up, but despite the seemingly unescapable predicament, Maddix grits in and refuses to quit. For now. Ejiro continues to pull back, teeth gritted in a sign of his determination to get back to winning ways...ruthlessly wrenching and tugging at Maddix's neck as he grows gradually more impatient. Unable to free his right arm or do anything with his left, Landon sets about sliding his legs from underneath his body...

 

"TAP!"

"TAP!"

"TA..."

 

...and does so. In doing that, Maddix manages to shuffle out of the chinlock as well, but Ejiro clings onto the leg applied hammerlock for all he's worth! Maddix tries to stand up, putting tremendous strain on his own arm and forcing him to re-think that idea. Meanwhile, Ejiro sits up from the mat, untangling Landon's arm from the legs, applying a traditional armbar and bringing Maddix to his feet. Ejiro seems to be picking up the intensity now as he drills the point of his elbow into Maddix's shoulder, before wringing out the arm. Looking for leverage, Maddix pushes his free hand up underneath Ejiro's chin, trying to lever him back towards the ropes, but Ejiro shakes that off, driving in another elbow and wrenching up on the arm a second time. Landon grimaces and begins to fall to his knees, but tries again suddenly with the arm underneath Ejiro's chin to push him back. Ejiro again tries to shake Landon off. This time though, in reaching out, Landon manages to gouge a finger out into Ejiro's eye with enough force for Ejiro to release the armbar, clutching at his eye as the crowd mercilessly boo Maddix.

 

"What a surprise, Maddix going to the eyes to escape." groans King.

 

Landon tries to pass off the eyepoke as an accident...and while Soapdish is clearly suspicious, he didn't get a good enough view to actually tell and can do nothing except reprimand La Cucaracha. A reprimand that falls on deaf ears, as Maddix is already closing in on Ejiro. With his arm still hanging loose, Landon decides the best course of action is to use his feet, blasting the kneeling Ejiro in the face with a straight kick. Reeling backwards, Ejiro stumbles into the corner, Maddix following and booting Ejiro in the gut. Again. And a third time, leaving Ejiro breathless as well as partially blinded. Quickly Landon grabs Ejiro around the head after the third kick, pulling him out of the corner and s l o w l y raking Ejiro's eyes across the length of the top rope!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Landon might want to think twice about moves like that, on family friendly Lockdown, King. I'm sure that'd break one of Joseph Peters' rules."

 

"Bah. Joseph Peters' rules are like the Bible...pretty much everything is a sin." snaps King. "Then again, I doubt my mom would feel too friendly if I did that to her. And don't think I wouldn't have back in the day, stupid memo or no stupid memo."

 

"Indeed."

 

Grabbing and clawing at his eyes in anguish, Fasaki leans against the ropes...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOO!"

 

...and doesn't see Landon's left hand knifedge rocketing towards his chest.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOO!"

 

...or a second. Left handed, the chops don't have aren't executed too well, but they find their mark well enough and leave Ejiro prey for an irish whip. This time Ejiro doesn't reverse, rebounding off the ropes and getting caught on the way back with a standing dropkick! Ejiro crashes awkwardly on his shoulders, as Maddix makes sure to land safely before scrambling into a cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Landon, still favouring his right arm noticeably, helps Ejiro to his feet...before helping him forward by the arm into a knee to the gut. Over doubles Fasaki, as Landon suddenly hits the ropes. Bad arm and all, Maddix still has an impressive spring in his step as he leaps up, over Ejiro's head and planting his feet into Ejiro's shoulder blades with a double stomp! Forward crashes Ejiro, eventually nosediving to the canvas, as Maddix falls to his knees to tend to his arm some more.

 

"That's the Mushroom Stomp and Landon's cooking here!"

 

"Was that supposed to be a pun?" groans King.

 

"Well...no, but, if it works..."

 

"No. Trust me, it didn't."

 

With his arm hanging to his side, Maddix takes a deep breath and tries to block out the pain, backing up into the corner

 

*STOMP!*

 

"Uh-oh!"

 

 

*STOMP!*

"Well, a bad arm isn't going to hamper Landon..."

 

 

*STOMP!*

 

"...in going for the Maddix-Kick!"

 

Slowly Ejiro reaches his feet, using the ropes to assist him.

 

*STOMP!*

 

Still his vision seems to be impaired slightly, squinting heavily.

 

*STOMP!*

 

But he's up...

*STOMP!*

*STOMP!*

 

Maddix suddenly comes jigging out of the corner, right as Ejiro turns to meet him...

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

 

...and EATING a Maddix-Kick!! Ejiro topples as Maddix continues jigging, gleefully fixing his golden locks as he goes past his fallen opponent towards the ropes.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"He got 'im, and he got 'im good!" cries Pete.

 

"Good job too, because it gives him chance to play with his hair...hair which surely should earn him a World Heavyweight Title shot." says King with more than a touch of sarcasm.

 

Still, despite hitting his superkick, Landon is more concerned with making a point to the fans than actually going for a victory, being provoked by a section of Justice and Rule fans in the front row. When Maddix eventually does brush them off, Ejiro is already recovering and trying to get back to his feet. Maddix stops, looking down at the former World Champion with a wry smirk, before indicating to the crowd that "It's ov-AH~!"

 

 

"E - JI - RO!"

"E - JI - RO!"

"E - JI - RO!"

 

Determination etches on Ejiro's face as he pulls himself up, fists already clenched as he turns around in search of Maddix. Maddix is waiting though and beats Ejiro to the strike, booting him in the gut and applying another 3/4 facelock. Instead of going up or diving forwards this time, Landon suddenly darts towards the corner. With a leap, Maddix springs off the middle rope, his right pushing him off the top and over...

 

 

 

 

...but Ejiro shrugs him off, to block the Codebreaker. Maddix lands on his feet with little more than a stumble, until a back elbow cracks him in the skull. Another back elbow connects, before Ejiro suddenly grabs his own 3/4 facelock and makes his own break for the corner...

 

 

 

 

...but Landon pushes him off to counter the Ejirocution, Ejiro crashing sternum first into the turnbuckles! Out staggers the winded Rule, Maddix hurriedly hooking his arms under Ejiro's chin and pulling him down and bringing Ejiro CRASHING down into his elevated knees!

 

"I'm reliably informed, he calls that the Mount Crushmore!" calls Pete. "Obviously, a play on words of his home state, South Dakota, the Mount Rushmore State."

 

"No wrestler or commentator should ever try to use plays on words. Ever."

 

"Well, weird name or not, the move was very effective." Pete says, brushing off King's latest quip. "And it might just earn Landon a win here, as he finally shakes off his arm and makes the cover..."

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH..

 

KICKOUT!!

 

"YYYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

 

As Ejiro's right shoulder flies off the mat, Maddix looks up with a groan, taking up issue with the count with referee Soapdish. Obviously, Soapdish is standing by his call though, so Maddix has to drag himself up and wait for Ejiro -- currently gasping for air and holding his upper back -- to try and pull himself up again.

 

"LAN - DON STINKS!"

"LAN - DON STINKS!"

"LAN - DON STINKS!"

 

The fans are busy getting on Maddix's case...and, seeing as the majority of the crowd are under the age of 12, the chant is hardly ruthless. The director decides now is the time to point out a "Landon is a Poo Poo Head!" in the crowd. As, in the ring, Ejiro is coming back to his feet and takes another boot to the gut from Maddix. With his arm throbbing, Maddix has to go southpaw as he flings a forearm at Ejiro's ear, followed up with a second and a third that daze Ejiro. Daze, but don't knock down, as he suddenly stands bolt upright and just forearms the buhjeezus out of Maddix!

 

"YYYYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!"

 

Stunned, Maddix stumbles back a series of steps, seeing stars. As he comes to a stop, Maddix shakes it off and tries to come back with a forearm of his own. Suddenly though, Ejiro tumbles forward and catches Maddix first with a spinning heel kick!! Landon tries to throw a hand up to protect himself but can't, getting caught right into the forehead and knocking him for a loop. Diving forward, Ejiro makes a hurried cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

T...

 

SHOULDER UP!

 

Ejiro quickly pulls Maddix back to his feet, popping him with a couple more forearms to the face...knocking whatever was remaining of Maddix's bandaid off of his forehead and leaving his stiched up forehead exposed. But Ejiro doesn't notice, too busy taking advantage of the adrenaline flowing through his veins as he whips Maddix into the ropes. Back shoots Maddix, getting tossed overhead with a high BAAACK~! body drop and sent crashing back to earth!

 

"Ejiro's firing up again!"

 

Maddix scrambles to his knees and hurriedly tries to beg off, asking in vain for a timeout as Ejiro advances on him and grabs the bad arm again. Still Landon begs for mercy, getting none as Ejiro wrings the arm, before suddenly shocking Landon with a fujiwara style takedown, trying to apply the Cobra Crossface! Maddix knows it's coming and manages to roll through before he lands. But Ejiro clings on defiantly to the arm, coming up with Maddix and attempting to take him down into the Cobra Crossface again! Again Maddix rolls through, getting to his feet and going to the old stand-by of the eyepoke, again causing Ejiro to clutch his bloodshot eyes.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Jeez, come on Soapdish, DQ him!" pleads King despite himself.

 

"I'm surprised he hasn't already with these strict Lockdown rules, but evidently not."

 

Fumbling around, Ejiro clearly can't see as he should as Maddix takes a brief breather, preparing to strike again. But, with whatever vision he does have left and hearing Maddix charging towards him, Ejiro is able to shoot out a boot which catches Maddix...

 

 

Kick!

 

*WHAM!*

 

STUNNER!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Maddix recoils back, slumping onto his back as Ejiro slumps onto his opponent with a pin...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH..

 

Kickout!

 

"Well, Ejiro came close to catching Landon with an out of nowhere pinfall...but he really needs to go back after the arm now." implores Pete.

 

Up clambers Ejiro, bringing Maddix slowly up by the hair before sending him crashing into the turnbuckles with a forceful irish whip. Maddix slumps into the turnbuckles, as the 2-time World Champion summons some more energy to rush across the ring, diving into Maddix with a Stinger Splash! Out of the buckles staggers Landon, right into Ejiro, who wraps his arms quickly under Landon's armpits and instantly flicks him overhead with a belly to belly suplex! Maddix lands hard and slumps into a prone position, Ejiro taking one glance at La Cucaracha and deciding to scale the ropes and climb towards the top turnbuckle!

 

"Ejiro, taking a risk here." Pete observes. "The first of the match really, which has been fought surprisingly grounded."

 

"Hardly surprising. Peters'll probably fire them if they do something too dangerous."

 

"He must have went to the McMahon school of wrestling ownership, eh?"

 

"Lawsuit~!"

 

Ejiro reaches the top and assesses the distance, before launching himself off the top...

 

 

 

 

...extended his elbow at the apex of his descent...

 

 

 

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

...AND MISSING!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

The crowd jeer Maddix as, having dodged a bullet, he staggers up to his feet with a sparkling smile flashing around the arena. Ejiro is beginning to pull himself up, as Maddix sets, preparing to charge. Up to his feet, Ejiro turns around, just as Maddix dives towards him with his own Stinger Splash...

 

 

 

 

*CLUNK!*

 

 

...but Ejiro moves, and Maddix's momentum sends him flying headfirst into the top of the ringpost!!!!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Maddix stumbles groggily out of the corner, a few of the fans directly facing him turning away in disgust for some reason. Waiting behind Maddix, Ejiro drops to his knees and cradles up Maddix with a schoolboy...

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE....

 

 

 

KICKOUT AT 2 AND 7/8s!!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Ejiro and Maddix both scramble to their feet, Landon clearly the more dazed as he meets Ejiro at a vertical base, getting scooped into the air...

 

 

 

 

...but, suddenly, Landon floats to the side, snaring an inverted front facelock as he lands on Ejiro's shoulder. Ejiro pauses for a moment as he tries to adjust to his situation. Kicking and flailing, Maddix eventually manages to force backwards, pulling down Ejiro to his hands and knees, clamping in the Land Of Nod!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"He got him hooked! From out of nowhere...and, he's got it with his good arm too!"

 

Sitting in on Ejiro's back, Landon leans with all his might, tugging back on Ejiro's neck. Soapdish quickly repositions himself in front of Ejiro, asking him if he wants to give it up. Ejiro defiantly shakes his head no, Soapdish informing Maddix of that fact...

 

 

 

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

 

...and calling for the bell!?!

 

"What the..."

 

"Ejiro didn't tapout. He must have quit."

 

"No, King, he was shaking his head no." mumbles Pete, as Soapdish goes over to Funyon and starts to explain something to him. Meanwhile, Maddix has slumped forwards, celebrating a proud victory, despite the fact his music hasn't hit yet.

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...here is the referee's official decision. He has STOPPED this match..."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"...due to BLOODLOSS!"

 

Cue mass confusion.

 

"What bloodloss?" Pete asks in bemusement, right before Landon Maddix looks up from his celebrations, revealing blood just pouring out of the re-opened wound on his forehead. "Oh..oh, man, Soapdish stopped the match because Maddix is cut and cut badly."

 

"What is this, 1985?"

 

 

"Therefore..." continues Funyon. "...in an effort to preserve a family friendly programme, this contest has been ruled a DRAW!!"

 

The crowd suddenly don't know how to react. Usually, they'd be jeering a no decision at the top of their lungs, not least in the main event. But, at the sight of Landon Maddix going completely BESERK in the ring, many start cheering.

 

"Maddix had the Land Of Nod applied, but Soapdish stopped the match, following rules to govern Lockdown. Man, what unfortunate timing."

 

"Did I ever tell you how much I LOVE Joseph Peters?" crows King. "Because I do!"

 

"Well, Landon Maddix is obviously distraught, he thought he had Ejiro beat, but Soapdish was just doing his job. Bad timing or not, Soapdish made the right call. The call that doesn't involve getting fined up to the eyebrows."

 

In the ring, Soapdish continues following the rules and raises the groggy arm of Ejiro Fasaki. Fasaki clearly has heard the call and doesn't seem enamoured with being congratulated on a draw, pulling his arm away and rolling out of the ring. Meanwhile, Soapdish goes over to Maddix. The bloody Next Generation is still sulking away as Soapdish tries to explain his call, before trying to raise Maddix's hand...but he gets SHOVED! to the canvas! Smartly Soapdish gets out of dodge, as Maddix is left in the ring. And with defeat plucked from the jaws of victory, Maddix muses over what could have been...

 

 

 

...dropping to his knees...

 

 

 

...and looking into the crowd, as a single, blood soaked tear rolls down his cheek. Followed, closely, by a whole bunch more.

 

"Frustration for Landon Maddix here and understandably s...wait, is he crying?"

 

"HE'S CRYING!" King beams. "What a pathetic loser! He's bawling his eyes out!"

 

"Well, obviously, this was an important match for Landon Maddix. But, Landon Maddix is a grown man, crying in the middle of the ring here. And this is...well, kinda embarrassing."

 

"This is pathetic. What a drama queen."

 

Maddix continues to sob in the ring, as all around him, fans are coming to their feet, delighting in Maddix's failure and laughing as he continues to cry and cry and cry some more. Looking up, Maddix sniffles...and realises the fans are laughing at him. Causing him to fall onto his back and bawl some more. The laughs only get louder, the tears only getting more noticeable, as Lockdown fades out on a, frankly, rather pathetic scene.

 

Landon Maddix.

 

 

Crybaby.