SWF SMARKDOWN, 10-17-05!

[Chuck Woolery 0]

"Welcome back to Storm, where you're just in time for the opening match-up of the night, as the newcomer Haffy faces a tough challenge in Manson!"

 

"Even in his current mindstate, Manson can put up a fight, that much I'll admit. Haffy has to come with everything he can if he expects to pick up a win."

 

"Haffy is a slugger, but Manson is just the same, and we've seen a lot of power from him, as well. I don't know if Haffy can keep up, despite his height advantage."

 

"Hell, that's the only advantage he has going into this, aside from his win on Lockdown, as opposed to Manson being on the losing end of a tag match. And what kind of a name is Haffy anyway?"

 

The house lights dim and Mastodon's "Crusher Destroyer" hits, complete with multi-colored strobes flashing in time with the music. The fans rise to their feet, the buzz in the arena reaching a fever pitch, and Manson emerges moments later to a big pop, then starts down the ramp.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the following is a singles contest scheduled for one fall! First, hailing from Denver, Colorado, and weighing in at two-hundred and fifty two pounds… MMMAAAANNNNSOONNN!"

 

He heads down the ramp at a brisk pace and rolls in, looking grumpy as usual. He heads straight to his corner and jogs in place, throwing fists, as he waits for his foe. Suddenly, the lights come up and the music fades, as "Mouth for War" by Pantera strikes. Haffy heads out and goes from side to side of the stage, throwing up devil horns as he does so.

 

"And his opponent, hailing from Sydney, Australia, and weighing in at two-hundred and thirty pounds… HAFFY!" Funyon booms, before leaving the ring.

 

Haffy heads down the ramp, jawing with fans, and even ripping a Manson sign out of a little girl's hands and tearing it up. She begins sobbing and Haffy simply puts the devil horns in her face and is all like, "I'm metal! I have a Pontiac Firebird on blocks in my front yard, look at this faded Anthrax shirt I'm wearing! RAWR!"

 

"Good," says Suicide King, "Manson isn't someone you want as a role model."

 

"Please. Haffy lives out of one of our production trucks and smells like cheap cigarettes and Pabst."

 

Approaching the ring, he slides in and lays his shirt on the ring post, and standing opposite from Manson, begins rioting quietly by banging his head. Manson looks on incredulously and steps forward, as Referee Matt Kivell calls for the bell.

 

*DING DING!*

 

"There's the bell, and of course, Manson is in the tattered, faded blue jeans, and Haffy is in the… tattered, faded blue jeans… just great…" Longdogger mutters, as Haffy also steps out.

 

The Raging Bull and Haffy circle the ring, but as Manson heads forward for the lock-up, Haffy steps away from him and climbs a turnbuckle, throwing up the horns once again to a round of boos from the crowd. He steps down and smirks, to which Manson cocks his head, and Haffy tells him to head up.

 

"Wait. Is he challenging him to a Metal Off?" King asks.

 

"Manson is totally grim and frostbitten, there's no way Haffy will win this."

 

Manson shakes his head and ascends the opposite turnbuckle, throwing up some devil horns of his own and getting a big amount of cheers. He steps down and heads back toward Haffy, and the two exchange words. After a moment, Haffy slaps Manson across the face for showing him up, and Manson immediately fires off punches to the jaw. Haffy is driven back, but soon gets an upper hand on Manson. The two continue exchanging punches, but Manson is pushed back, and Haffy grabs him by the wrist. He whips Manson to the right hand ropes, but upon bouncing off, Manson picks up momentum and knocks Haffy down with a shoulderblock!

 

"Shoulderblock by The Raging Bull off the ropes, after the impromptu disply of metal prowess."

 

Haffy stands and Manson hits a right cross, and another one, then a kick to the gut. His opponent doubled over, Manson delivers a knee to the face, standing Haffy up and sending him stumbling back into the ropes. Manson keeps the pressure on, nailing a forearm smash, then taking Haffy by the hand and whipping him across the ring. Manson stands ready in the center and Haffy comes off the ropes, and is lifted high into the air with a big back body drop! Haffy comes down, hitting the mat, and Manson goes for a pinfall.

 

"Manson is rolling, tossing Haffy overhead with a back body drop and keeping him on the defensive!"

 

ONE!

 

But Haffy kicks out after one, prompting Manson to hit a couple of fists from the side, before bringing him up. Manson short headbutts Haffy, who's sent back into the upper right corner. Manson shakes off his own headbutt and follows Haffy, who lays against the turnbuckle. He wraps his arms around Haffy's waist and locks his hands, and looks to lift him up, but Haffy keeps hold of the ropes, hooking them with his arms. Manson tries again, and again Haffy won't budge, this time hammering Manson with a forearm over the back after the attempt. He slams Manson with more forearms, forcing him to release Haffy. Australian for Metal switches Manson up, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pushing him into the corner. He beats Manson down in the corner with punches to the jaw and temple, and as Manson slouches down, transitions to kicks to the chest, forcing Manson down to the mat. He stemps a mudhole in him, and as Manson tries to gather himself, Haffy takes a run and a bounce off the near camera ropes. Coming back toward Manson, he goes low and boots him in the face with the face wash! Haffy turns his back on Manson to taunt the crowd some more, while The Raging Bull falls out of the corner, trying to brush off the effects of Haffy's attack.

 

"Haffy with the low kick to Manson in the corner, but he doesn't follow up!"

 

"He'll learn in time that you don't turn your back on anyone or give them a moment's rest."

 

Haffy heads back toward Manson, but he's already up to his knees, and he fights off Haffy with punches to the midsection. Pushing himself up to his feet, he nails a knee to the gut, taking Haffy down, and tries to head off toward the far camera ropes, but Haffy grabs Manson by the hair and yanks him down hard! Manson hits the back of his head on the mat and immediately attends to it, as Haffy stands and brings him up. Haffy stands off to the side of Manson, wrapping an arm around Manson's head and clasping his hands, locking in a side headlock. Haffy briefly brings Manson down on this knees, but Manson hits multiple shots to the kidneys, forcing Haffy to loosen the hold. This allows Manson to get to his feet and push Haffy off toward the left hand ropes. Bouncing off, Haffy comes back and Manson catches him around the waist, this time managing to put him down with the belly to belly slam! He goes for another cover.

 

"Manson rallying back and hitting the belly to belly on Haffy!"

 

ONE!

 

And Haffy is out of it again! Manson slaps the mat and stands, backing away from Haffy. Haffy stands and Manson heads off for the near camera ropes, taking a bounce and heading back towards Haffy as he turns around. Manson extends his arm for the Western Lariat attempt, but Haffy ducks just in time! Manson stumbles a few steps past Haffy and the Australian nears him from behind, looking to grab hold, but Manson fires off a back elbow, catching Haffy. Manson then switches up position on Haffy, sliding around and wrapping his arms around Haffy's waist from behind. With a grunt, he effortlessly lifts Haffy overhead, dumping him on his upper back with a German Suplex! Manson stands and feeling the momentum and crowd getting behind him, heads out to the apron and ascends to the top.

 

"Manson with a German Suplex, and now heading to the top!"

 

"How often is it that Manson does this? It's not very smart at all."

 

Manson calls for Haffy get up, which he does so, turning on his elbow, after gathering himself for a moment. Crouched on the turnbuckle, Manson takes off, flying toward Haffy and leading with his shoulder, but Haffy dropkicks Manson out of the air! Manson crashes on the mat, and Haffy goes for a cover.

 

"See, Pete, what did I tell you?"

 

"Indeed, Haffy takes Manson out, and here's a cover!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

And Manson kicks out at two! Haffy pounds the mat and brings Manson up, hooking him around the head and by his jeans. He tries to lift Manson for a Brainbuster, but Manson kicks his legs frantically, bringing himself back down to the mat. He then reverses the hold, hooking Haffy behind the leg, as well. Up in the air, Manson grabs hold of the other leg and drops down on his back, impacting Haffy against his shoulders with a Muscle Buster! He goes for a cover.

 

"IT'S OVER! It's over just like that, as Manson hits a Muscle Buster!!" Pete shouts.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

*DING DING!*

 

"Your winner by pinfall… MMMAAANNNNSOONNN!" Funyon booms, as "Crusher Destroyer" by Mastodon hits, and Manson has his hand raised by Kivell.

 

"Manson wins…"

 

"For the first time in ages," Suicide King sneaks in.

 

"Well, it shows how dangerous Manson is and how he can take out someone quickly and without warning."

 

"I suppose Manson was too much for him, especially when he was more concerned with showing how metal he was, which is when the turning point in the match came about."

 

"There's nothing for him to do but go home, listen to some vinyl on his stereo, no doubt held up by a makeshift table made out of plywood and cinder blocks, and think about why he lost," says Pete, as Manson walks out. "Now stay tuned for more Storm, after this!"

[Chuck Woolery 0]

“Look Gus, I’m telling you, you and me could make a mint at Fox,” Ben Hardy is saying. “They don’t care what quality news they get; just take a look at-” abruptly the bespectacled interviewer realises that he’s on air, and hastily adjusts his tie. “Yes SWF fans, I’m here backstage with Chris Card,” Ben begins, trying to summon a smile. “So tell me Mr. Card,” he continues, turning to the man in the suit beside him, “how exactly can you justify your team stealing the prestigious SWF Tag Titles from Landon Maddix and Jay Hawke just moments after they’d defeated Wild & Dangerous for them?”

 

“Justify it?” Card smirks at Hardy. “Please Benjamin, whatever makes you think I need to justify it?” Technical Perfection turns to look into the camera, beaming his cracked gravestone smile.

 

“Landon; Mr. Hawke,” Card begins, “TORU and KOJI stole the Tag Titles for one reason, and one reason only - they wanted to. People have been wailing about ‘disrespect for the titles’ and similar rubbish, but you see gentlemen, as far as we here in TKO are concerned those belts are meaningless unless they are in our possession. We asked the smartest guy in the federation how in the hell you got those belts in the first place, but I’m afraid,” Card grins, “I didn’t have a clue. You are not a tag team; you are two wrestlers who happen to have been in the same ring at the same time. Wild & Dangerous was a tag team, although as was seen on Lockdown, a tag team far inferior to TKO-”

 

“Um, could the fact that Johnny Dangerous abandoned his partner have anything to do with that?” Hardy suggests.

 

“You’re missing the connotations of the word ‘team’, Ben,” Card chides him. “TORU and KOJI would never leave each other in the lurch like that; now, I’ll grant you that Johnny Dangerous walking out was unfortunate as it prevented us from giving the longest-reigning Tag Team Champions of all time the emphatic beating we could have done… but I think we proved a point.” Card turns back to the camera, smirk still in place.

 

“As I was saying, as long as the belts are in our possession we are actually adding to their value, because they are with a team that deserves to hold them. To allow Landon and Mr. Hawke to touch them… well, it’d be like drinking champagne from a coffee mug, or using the Mona Lisa as a firelighter… or putting Landon Maddix in a limo,” he finishes with a grin, mind going back to when TKO’s monster truck crushed Landon’s stretch. “Face it Landon, even when you were under my guidance you looked damn stupid in a suit and a limousine, and now you’re like a spoilt brat with too much money and not enough sense. Money can never buy you class, Landon; not even I could give you that.”

 

“So the Tag Titles are with us,” Card states firmly, “and believe me, that is where they’ll stay. Of course, it seems that at Ashes 2 Ashes you will come face-to-face with TORU Takahara and KOJI Kitano for the right to officially own the belts, but to be honest Landon, that’s going to be as much of a foregone conclusion as your SAT scores - complete and utter humiliation for you. In fact,” Technical Perfection continues, “if you abandon all claim to being a ‘rightful Tag Champion’ and just vacate the titles in favour of TKO, you might just have enough time to prepare before Max King returns and takes you apart. If you go up against us however, King will be walking all over you before the bruises have faded.”

 

“Thank you Chris Card,” Hardy says, turning to the camera himself, “and back to Pete and King at ringside!”

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Chuck Woolery 0]

“We are coming back to you, LIVE~ from the Five Seasons Center in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and rumour has it that if Bruce Blank wins this match, TKO might have to give up their Number One Contender status,” Pete greets the returning audience as the opening notes of ‘Don’t Ask Me No Questions’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd kicks up over the PA system, “but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

 

“Yeah, it’s not like the booking committee normally makes that much sense,” King replies, “I mean come on, they’re giving a World Title shot to Spike Jenkins. On Pay-Per-View!”

 

The dated country-rock of Skynyrd rolls out across the Five Seasons Center and it is soon followed by the imposing figure of Bruce Blank, complete with cowboy hat and sour B.O. As he saunters down the entrance ramp the man from Mobile makes sure to shout and spit at the fans, even swiping one little girl’s giant pretzel and munching on it as he goes.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms. “Introducing first, from the Dirty Tornado Trailer Park in Mobile, Alabama; he weighs in tonight at 295lbs and is the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion, this is BRRRRRUUUUUCCCEEEEE… BLAAAAAANNNNNNK!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Bruce doesn’t seem that bothered by the lack of fan support and finishes the pretzel before belching noisily, then steps up to the ring apron and swings one leg over the ropes to step into the ring. He then removes his cowboy hat and places it carefully on top of one turnbuckle before handing the HGC belt to referee Brian Warner.

 

“Bruce Blank has had an impressive run as Hardcore Champion, including successfully defending the belt against former champion JJ Johnson in the FAO Schwartz match at Genesis VI,” Pete points out, “and we’ll have to see how TORU Takahara copes with him. However, it’s worth bearing in mind that TORU has yet to be pinned or made to submit in the SWF!”

 

As if on cue the ramblings of Lynyrd Skynyrd fade out and are abruptly replaced by the harsh drums and bleak riffs of ‘Teethgrinder’ by Therapy? The Smarktron starts showing clips of the Japanese Hammer delivering his Shooting Star Press and Tiger Driver. Shortly afterwards a familiar trenchcoated form appears silhouetted at the top of the entrance ramp, flanked on one side by Chris Card and on the other by Natasha.

 

“And his opponent,” Funyon declares, “accompanied to the ring by Chris Card Enterprises; from Saitama Prefecture, Japan, he weighs in tonight at 264lbs; this is the ‘Japanese Hammer’, TOOOORRR-RRUUUUUUU… TAKA-HAAAAAAAARRRRRR-AAAAAAAA!!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Some people in the arena are still booing, but the vast majority have decided that TORU is infinitely preferable to Bruce Blank and are giving the Japanese Hammer a warm welcome. For his part TORU simply flips them off, but quite a few members of the crowd respond in kind. Meanwhile, Chris Card still holds the Tag Title that his proteges stole from Cucaracha Internacional two weeks ago as TORU takes off his coat (although keeps his shades on). With cheating on his mind Brian Warner has checked both men for weapons, and after pulling a small monkey wrench, a wad of chewing tobacco and an empty beer bottle from Bruce’s jeans pockets he turns his attention to TORU. However, Takahara’s more standard wrestling attire appears to conceal nothing of any importance. Warner hasn’t noticed that TORU hasn’t opened his mouth once though, nor that Blank has one fist closed behind his back… and as he turns to order the bell rung…

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

*pfffffffffft!*

 

…TORU spits his Sake mist at Bruce Blank, but the big man ducks! Immediately Blank returns fire by hurling the salt in his fist at TORU, but the white powder simply scatters off Takahara’s shades! Brian Warner turns back around to find both men staring at each other, momentarily non-plussed - but then they both give each other the finger, and charge!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Bruce wins that exchange as the extra 30lbs helps the big man from Mobile flatten the onrushing TORU with a shoulder block; Bruce then turns and bounces off the ropes as TORU rolls onto his front, hoping to force Bruce to hurdle him. Unfortunately for the Japanese Hammer, Bruce had guessed this was coming and simply jumps in the air before burying both cowboy boots into TORU’s back!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Bruce reaches down and plucks the shades from TORU’s face, then puts them on and begins marching around the ring, evidently thinking that walking like someone who’s shat themselves makes him look Japanese. Unbelievably, the American crowd side with the foreigner over the smelly redneck and let Bruce know what they think of him by booing loudly; moments later TORU pushes himself up with a small wince at the pain in his back, and Bruce turns around to find himself confronted by a rather annoyed Oriental gentleman…

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

Three sharp kicks to the left leg take Blank’s support out from under him and the man from Mobile collapses down to one knee; TORU reaches out and rips his shades off Bruce’s face before throwing them over the ropes to Chris Card, then turns and bounces off the ropes, perhaps looking for the Shining Enzuigiri. Bruce has other ideas however, and explodes upwards with a lunging forearm smash that catches the rebounding Takahara flush in the jaw and sends him crashing to the canvas!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Now it’s Bruce’s turn to feel the effects of his opponent’s attack as he limps around for a couple of steps, trying to shake some life back into his leg, then returns to his fallen adversary and places the heel of one cowboy boot on TORU’s throat…

 

‘ONE!’

 

‘TWO!’

 

‘THREE!’

 

‘FOUR!’

 

‘FI-’

 

The smirking Bruce backs off, protesting his innocence to Brian Warner as TORU rolls around on the mat and tries to catch his breath. Blank isn’t going to give him a chance to do that however, and he pushes past Warner to grab TORU and haul him upright again, then before the man from Japan can fight back Bruce hooks him up and takes him back down with a Russian Legsweep! The big man then gets back to his feet and hits a legdrop on his prone opponent, then makes the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but TORU kicks out right after two!

 

“The first cover of this match by Bruce Blank, but he’s not going to beat TORU that quickly!” Pete exclaims.

 

“If at first you don’t succeed,” King responds as Bruce makes another cover, this time grinding his forearm into TORU’s face…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…TORU kicks out again however, and Bruce gives up on that idea. Blank gets back to his feet but there’s still fight in TORU and the man from Japan gets up pretty quickly as well; it doesn’t do him much good however, as Bruce nails him with a forearm and then Irish whips his opponent into the corner before following in with a shoulder to the gut that blasts the breath from Takahara’s lungs. With the man from Japan gasping, Bruce straightens up and waves his right arm around a couple of times, then lunges in and drives it right into TORU’s cheekbone!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Bruce Blank in control here,” Pete says, “as he’s been able to keep TORU on the ground and overpower him.”

 

“Plus he’s used a bit of cheating,” King says as Bruce wraps his hands around Takahara’s throat and squeezes, “never underestimate the effectiveness of cheating!”

 

‘ONE!’

 

‘TWO!’

 

‘THREE!’

 

‘FOUR!’

 

‘FI-’

 

Bruce Blank breaks his hold just before Warner reaches ‘five’ and the inevitable disqualification that would ensue, but before the referee can give him much of a talking to Blank grabs TORU’s hand and Irish whips him clean across the ring to the other corner! Warner is still trying to get a word in, but Blank ignores him and revs up to charge across the squared circle with his shoulder lowered, looking to bury it in TORU’s gut again…

 

*WHAM!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

…but the Japanese Hammer moves at the last moment, and Blank only succeeds in ramming his shoulder into the steel ringpost! The big man grabs his shoulder and tries to withdraw, but TORU buys himself some time by booting Bruce in the ass and knocking him back into the post, shoulder-first!

 

“TORU has a chance to turn this around, but he’s going to have to think quickly,” Pete exclaims, “because Bruce Blank has shown the he has a definite advantage when it comes to a power game!”

 

As Bruce tries to extract himself from the corner once more TORU grabs the back of his jeans and pulls, then reaches up to take hold of Blank’s neck and drops down in a neckbreaker. However, the Japanese Hammer doesn’t immediately capitalise as he gets back up and looks around the ring for the tag team partner that isn’t there…

 

“Get on him!” Card yells from ringside, pointing back at Bruce Blank. TORU has already remembered that he’s in this one on his own and turns back around even as the big man from Mobile gets up, one hand on the back of his neck. Bruce wants to regain the advantage as soon as possible and charges forwards with one arm extended, looking to pulverise TORU’s skull with a clothesline… but Takahara ducks, and as Blank sails past, kills his momentum and tries to turn on a dime the Japanese Hammer leaps into the air!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“What a gamengiri!” Pete shouts as TORU’s right boot connects with Bruce’s temple, “…but Bruce Blank doesn’t go down!” the Longdogger adds a moment later as the redneck merely drops to one knee. However, that’s good enough for TORU who is already scrambling for the ropes and rebounds to vault off Bruce’s knee…

 

*KER-RACK!*

 

“Shining Enzuigiri!” LDP bellows, and this time Bruce does slump forwards to the canvas. TORU grabs his opponent and rolls him onto his back, then heads for the turnbuckles and begins to climb. Bruce is starting to stir, but not quickly enough as TORU reaches the apex of his climb before backflipping off with the Air TORU Moonsault!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Brian Warner drops to make the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Bruce Blank still has plenty in the tank, and Trailerpark Messiah kicks out just after two! TORU doesn’t waste any time in arguing with the referee and simply rolls under the ropes to the apron where he gets back to his feet.

 

“T!K!O!”

 

“T!K!O!”

 

The chants of the fans (particularly the TKO Section in the front row) are ringing loud in Bruce Blank’s ears, and after a few seconds the big man regains enough breath to push himself back up to his feet. Blank circles on the spot, looking for his opponent… and sees him coming too late, as TORU jumps to the top rope and then into the ring with a springboard shoulderblock that takes his enemy down!

 

“What agility from TORU!” Pete shouts.

 

“Plus, I think he’s just got Bruce back for the shoulderblock that opened this match,” King points out. “Neither one of these two men is going to like being one-upped!”

 

The crowd have now got firmly back into the match and (by and large) are chanting loudly in support of the man from Saitama Prefecture. TORU responds by giving them the double bird, which only serves to increase the volume, then grabs the winded Bruce Blank and hauls him up to his feet. TORU doesn’t help his opponent’s breathing difficulties however, as he first drives his left knee into the big man’s gut, then grabs Bruce’s mullet with his right hand and drags the Trailerpark Messiah over backwards into a modified backbreaker over his right knee! Bruce rolls away in considerable pain and TORU heads for the turnbuckles once more… but is brought up short by an unexpected sight. For atop this turnbuckle is Bruce’s cowboy hat…

 

“Pete, these two men have raised disrespect to an art form,” King comments with some satisfaction as TORU pays his opponent back for the earlier theft of his sunglasses by taking the hat and placing it on his head before climbing to the top rope.

 

“T!K!O!”

 

“T!K!O!”

 

With Bruce Blank on the canvas TORU takes sight on him, straightens the hat, belches noisily… and leaps off the top rope, plummeting down towards his opponent with his right knee aimed straight at the Alabaman’s breastbone!

 

*THUNK!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

TORU raises his arms in recognition of the cheers of the crowd, then snatches the hat off his head and hurls it to the outside before making the cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Bruce kicks out of the TORU Hammer, despite his shortness of breath! TORU takes the chance to roll over to where Chris Card is and have a brief discussion with his manager in Japanese while Bruce for some reason seems to be fiddling with the waist of his trousers…

 

“TORU has taken over this match by using his superior speed and keeping Bruce Blank guessing,” Pete says, “but he really needs to keep on his opponent unless he wants to give Blank a chance to recover!”

 

TORU nods as Card dispenses some last pearls of wisdom, then gets back to his feet and approaches Bruce Blank as the man from Mobile gets up to one knee… but suddenly Bruce hurls something at Brian Warner in a swirl of blue and red, then slams his forearm up between TORU’s legs!

 

*CHING!*

 

“Low blow!” Pete roars, accompanied by Chris Card, Natasha and most of the crowd… but Brian Warner was blinded by the Confederate flag that Bruce Blank had been using as a belt and just undid and threw at him, and he saw nothing! Before the official can recover and notice TORU’s suspiciously knock-kneed posture, Blank surges upwards to hoist the man from Japan bodily off his feet before dumping him back down with an inverted atomic drop that gives the Japanese Hammer every reason to be clutching his nether regions!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“BRUCE BLANK SUCKS!”

 

“BRUCE BLANK SUCKS!”

 

TORU is decidedly unstable, but he hasn’t fallen over yet… so Bruce decides to give him a bit of help as the big man backs off a pace, then strides forwards and mashes his cowboy boot into Takahara’s face! This time TORU does go over, although Bruce stumbles slightly on the follow-through and clutches at his sore ribs and chest. Brian Warner is now complaining at Blank about the flag that was thrown into his face, so Blank snatches the offending item back… then reaches down and starts choking TORU with it!

 

‘ONE!’

 

‘TWO!’

 

‘THREE!’

 

‘FOUR!’

 

‘FI-’

 

Yet again, Bruce ceases and desists milliseconds before the disqualification point, much to the frustration of both Brian Warner and the fans! Blank ignores the referee as he unhurriedly rethreads the flag through the belt loops of his jeans, then grabs the breathless Takahara and hoists him up to a standing position before bending him over and placing him in a standing headscissors.

 

“This doesn’t look good…” Pete ventures as Blank points at one of the turnbuckles.

 

“No,” King agrees with some concern, “if anything happens to TORU then TKO might not be able to take the Tag Titles officially from La Cocksucker and Jay Hawke!”

 

These concerns are far from the mind of Bruce Blank however, and the Trailerpark Messiah bends down to wrap both powerful arms around TORU’s waist, then hoists his opponent up into the air and charges forwards! Chris Card and Natasha noticeably brace for impact as Blank drives TORU down towards the top buckle…

 

*WHAM!*

 

“TURNBUCKLE POWERBOMB!” Pete yells as Takahara slumps down to the mat while Bruce Blank grins. “Dear God, Blank might have snapped his spine!”

 

Bruce seems characteristically unconcerned at his opponent’s plight, and uses one cowboy boot to roll TORU onto his back, then presses down on his chest and barks at Brian Warner to ‘count, gawd-dammit!’

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHRRR-

-but TORU kicks out! A look of surprise crosses Bruce’s face and the big man drops to his knees, then lays down atop Takahara’s body with a more traditional lateral press…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

-NO! Foot on the ropes!

 

“Hmm, are you sure TORU got his foot there on his own?” King asks in mild amusement, settling back in his seat with his hands clasped across his chest.

 

“…well, Chris Card does seem rather close,” Pete admits. Meanwhile Bruce Blank seems to think that something is fishy as well, but when he turns around Chris Card is the picture of innocence. If innocence had long black hair, a vaguely saturnine goatee and wore a sharp Italian suit, that is. So really, not that innocent-looking at all. Blank doesn’t think so either and begins berating the British ex-pat while Card holds his hands up to signify that he never touched TORU’s foot in any way.

 

“I can’t stand the man, but I’ll give Chris Card this,” King sighs grudgingly, “he sure knows how to run interference.”

 

Bruce Blank is getting more and more animated, to the point where he’s almost leaning out of the ring to argue with Technical Perfection more vehemently. Meanwhile, Card has casually drawn attention to the tag title belt adorning his left shoulder, and the sight of it winds the Nightmare Express member up still further… until finally Bruce remembers that he has a match to win, and turns back to deal with TORU Takahara. With what is probably meant to be an arrogant sneer (but just comes off as a facial tic), Bruce Blank hauls his opponent up and places him into another vertical headscissors…

 

‘SWE-ET HOME AAAAAL-ABAMA!!’

 

“Christ on a cracker!” Pete gasps, holding his ears, “his singing’s as bad as his breath!”

 

With a grunt of effort the big man from Mobile hoists TORU off the ground again into another powerbomb position, but this time he heads out towards the middle of the ring ready for the devastating running power bomb… but as he reaches the midway point TORU suddenly seems to come to his senses, and the Japanese Hammer snaps backwards with remarkable flexibility to take Blank over with a hurricanrana!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Blank skids across the ring on the back of his neck before coming to a tangled halt in the ropes. It takes a couple of seconds before the big man’s brain registers what has happened, but then he lets out a bellow and begins picking himself up, then heads back towards his opponent… and is met by a boot to the gut!

 

“T!K!O!”

 

“T!K!O!”

 

TORU Takahara is visibly in pain, but as Blank doubles over in front of him the man from Japan underhooks one arm… and then the other…

 

“TORU’s setting up for the Tiger Driver, and this move has pinned Bruce Blank’s tag team partner Marcus Ward on two separate occasions!” Pete says in excitement…

 

…but Bruce Blank weighs a lot more than Marcus Ward. In fact, he weighs a fair bit more than TORU. And after that turnbuckle power bomb, TORU’s back just isn’t up to hoisting 300lbs off the mat via a double underhook. So after a couple of seconds of frenzied effort TORU suddenly finds that his opponent’s arms are being wrenched out of his grip, before Bruce grabs Takahara behind each leg and straightens up to send the Japanese Hammer flying with a back bodydrop!

 

*BANG!*

 

TORU doesn’t get a chance to rest, as Blank homes in on him and hauls him to his feet, then forces his head against the ropes and drags him from one corner to another, rope-burning his eyes!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Takahara staggers away, swiping at his eyes as Bruce measures him… then raises one hand high overhead before plunging down onto TORU’s skull with the Iron Claw!

 

“CLAAAAWWWWWWW!!” Pete howls in full oversell mode as TORU flails around, trying to dislodge Bruce massive hand from his head. “TORU is in trouble! Bruce Blank could be about to put him down!”

 

But Chris Card, as ever, has other ideas. The man from Nottingham jumps up to the ring apron and grabs referee Brian Warner, protesting about Blank’s eyerake on the ropes. Warner is distracted for a half-second… and in that time TORU kicks out hard!

 

*CHING!*

 

“One-all,” King remarks, ticking off the box labelled ‘nutshots’ on his clipboard.

 

Bruce’s devastating grip suddenly relaxes, leaving TORU with the freedom to move again. The Japanese Hammer sways for a moment as the blood thunders around his skull, but then he grabs Bruce’s greasy mullet and holds the redneck’s head in place while he slams his right knee into Blank’s jaw once… twice… then turns around and bounces off the ropes to deliver a thunderous running knee strike that takes the Trailerpark Messiah clean off his feet and knocks him to the mat!

 

“T!K!O!”

 

“T!K!O!”

 

Brian Warner drops to make the count as TORU collapses on top…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

-but Blank kicks out! TORU doesn’t look impressed with the count at all, but he gets back to his feet and boots Blank in the head to keep the big man down, then heads to the turnbuckles where he climbs to the second rope. From there the Japanese Hammer leaps off, aiming an elbow straight into Blank’s chest, then makes another cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRR-

-but Bruce kicks out again, not willing to give it up yet! This time TORU flips the bird at Brian Warner and wearily gets up again, hauling Bruce Blank with him. The big Alabaman isn’t quite dead weight yet but it pushes the battered TORU to the limit as he brings Bruce upright, then threads Blank’s far arm through his legs before applying a half-nelson of sorts to the right arm. Takahara then hoists with all his might, and manages to get Blank off the canvas before tilting him forwards and dumping him on his head with a rather sloppy TORU Driver!

 

“TORU was able to lift Bruce there because he got better leverage with that pumphandle,” Pete points out, “but he didn’t get much height on the TORU Driver and I don’t think that’ll be enough to… wait a minute…”

 

TORU hasn’t finished; the Japanese Hammer has got back to his feet and, with Bruce Blank on his back, is climbing the turnbuckles again. Once at the top TORU flips the crowd off before backflipping off, rotating through the air to come down with an Air TORU Moonsault Legdrop!

 

*BANG!*

 

TORU quickly rolls onto Bruce and Brian Warner leaps into positition…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

Neither TORU nor Chris Card can believe it, but Brian Warner is adamant. With a visible sigh TORU gets back to his feet and reaches down to haul Bruce Blank up after him. This time the man from Japan tries to pick Blank up across his chest, perhaps for the Blockbuster Slam, but the impact of the moonsault legdrop seems to have hurt his back even more and he can’t get Bruce up! This problem is compounded as the big starts lashing out with elbows that crack into the side of TORU’s head and daze the Japanese Hammer. TORU’s grip relaxes and Bruce gets both feet firmly on the ground, then reaches up to TORU’s eyes and gouges at them!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Takahara staggers backwards clutching his face and as Brian Warner yells angrily Bruce Blank backs off into the ropes, then rebounds. TORU doesn’t see him coming and the Trailerpark Messiah explodes into him with a monstrous flying clothesline before landing on top for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

But Warner only finds two! Bruce can’t believe it and for a moment both men just lie on their backs, staring blankly up at the lights and sucking in air.

 

“King, both these guys have half-killed each other in there,” Pete says during the pause, “and you gotta believe that the next man to land a big bomb is gonna win this!”

 

Bruce Blank is the first to stir, and although the big redneck has had a lot taken out of him by TORU’s offence he is still able to get to his feet. With TORU still struggling to get up to all fours Blank unhurriedly starts to untie his Confederate flag belt, ready to choke the life out of his opponent again… but TORU suddenly reaches up and grabs Bruce’s newly-loosened jeans, then pulls them down!

 

“ARRGGHH GOD, MY EYES!” King bawls.

 

“Now that’s a dirty trick,” Pete comments.

 

“That’s not all that’s dirty!”

 

It takes Bruce Blank a moment to realise that his sweaty and stained boxers with the words ‘Dirty South’ emblazoned across the ass are now on show to a national audience, but when he does the big man hastily leans down to grab his jeans and pull them up… and as his head comes down, TORU’s knee comes up to meet him halfway!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Bruce drops like a poleaxed bullock and TORU staggers upright, looking around for options. It seems to take the Japanese Hammer a moment to decide, but with his opponent prostrate on the canvas and no tag team partner available, Takahara only really has one option…

 

“He’s going up top again!” Pete calls as TORU heads for the corner. “TORU has had good success with his aerial moves in this match; can he put Bruce away here?”

 

TORU is climbing up the outside of the turnbuckles now, but he isn’t as sprightly as he was. What’s more, Bruce Blank has one chronic headache but he’s still stirring, and is now on one knee. In fact, as TORU reaches the top buckle Bruce sees him and reaches out one hand to shove Brian Warner right into the ropes, knocking TORU from his footing and causing the Japanese Hammer to crotch himself!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Brian Warner is yelling furiously at Blank, but the big man pays no attention. He pulls his pants up, refastens his belt and strides (unsteadily) over to the corner where TORU is, then begins mounting the turnbuckles himself! Once on the second buckle Blank reaches up and hooks Takahara in a front facelock…

 

“He’s going for a superplex!” Pete shouts. “This should put TORU away, but it might take out Bruce Blank as well!”

 

TORU has other ideas however. As Bruce prepares to arch backwards the man from Japan reaches up with his free hand and desperately digs his fingers into Bruce’s eyes…

 

‘YAAARRRGGGGHHHH!’

 

Bruce releases his grip and desperately claws at his face, and TORU brings one leg over the buckles to nail his opponent in the jaw and sending him crashing backwards to the canvas! Then as flashbulbs go off around the arena TORU slowly gets his feet back under him and rises to a standing position on the top buckle… then leaps off, backflipping as he goes!

 

“SHOOTING STAR PRESS!” Pete bawls…

 

*WHAM!!*

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms, “TOOOOOORRRR-RRRRRUUUUUUUU… TAKA-HAAAAAAAAARRR-RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!!”

 

The camera catches a quick flash of Chris Card’s grin as we

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Chuck Woolery 0]

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” begins Longdogger Pete, “we have-”

 

“I’M BILL FILLMAFF!”

 

A skinny white guy with sunglasses and a cap that reads “Ultimate Fillmaff” jumps up and down behind LDP.

 

“Oh, for the love of God.” LDP turns to look behind him, then back to address the fans. “Fans, if you’ve paid attention to swf.com, I’m sure you’vee seen a number of posts by this alleged... world poker champion, Bill Fillmaff. And as you can clearly see, he is in attendance tonight.”

 

“TELL THEM I AM A WORLD CHAMPION!”

 

“Recently, he made an open challenge to face anyone on the roster. Thankfully, for this show, no one has accepted. Though I have heard rumors that he may be debuting in just a few short days.

 

“I’M WORTH MILLIONS! TELL THEM TO BUY MY BOOK!”

 

Bill Fillmaff, in a hurry, leaps out of his seat and knocks over the nachos of the man next to him. The man gets up. I’d put him at 6’5”, and double what Fillmaff weighs.

 

“OH SHIT!”

 

The man grabs Fillmaff’s collar and exhales nacho and beer gas into the world poker champion.

 

“You’re that skinny little twig! I’m gonna pound your face in!”

 

Fillmaff squirms in the large man’s grasp. He has now noticed that there are tattoos circling his arm, which means he hits twice as hard. He panics. “STEVE! STEVE! DEFEND ME!”

 

If it could be possible, and even skinnier twig comes in between Bill Fillmaff and Tattoo Arm. “You won’t be hurting Mister Fillmaff, sir,” he says calmly. Fillmaff squirms free of the grasp and runs in a hurry as Steve gets a substitute face pounding. Security quickly descends on the situation, with two walkie-talkie wearing blackshirts chasing after Fillmaff.

 

“Oh dear lord,” sighs LDP. “Who on earth would sign this guy to a contract.”

 

“It’s money,” replies King. “Would you pay money to see this guy get his ass kicked?”

 

“Hell yes I would! But I also don’t need it wasting segments on an otherwise perfectly fine show.”

 

King licks his lips. “I bet you, the moment this poker playing scrawny kid is destroyed, our ratings will go big. Big!”

 

LDP sighs again. “We’re gonna take a commercial break.”

[Chuck Woolery 0]

First, there was nothing.

 

 

 

 

“GOD DAMN MOVE WHEN I SAY MOVE, MOTHERFUCKER!”

 

 

 

And then there was Chemlab, the abrasive beats of “Exile on Mainline” grinding their way across the Five Seasons Center, such signs as “KOJIBAN”, “TKO STOLE MY WITTY SIGN”, and next to it “SO HE BROUGHT THAT ONE INSTEAD” being picked up by the camera as the challenger strides out from behind the curtain, flanked by Card and Natasha, one-half of the World Tag Team Championships strapped around his waist.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Smarkdown!” says Pete, struggling to make himself heard over the grinding emanating from the speakers. “And if you’re just tuning in, folks, have we got a treat for you! It’s gonna be KOJI Kitano, one-half of TKO, against JJ Johnson, one-third of Cucaracha Internacional, who TKO stole the tag titles from! All grudges aside, KOJI and JJ are two of the fastest men in the fed, and they’re going to be facing off in a Cruiserweight Title match.”

 

“For once, I agree with you Pete. As well as speed, both are world class martial artists, and neither are slouches on the mat. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a technical classic. If not, we’ll still get a fun spotfest. It truly is a win-win situation with these two.” says King, KOJI rolling into the ring and popping back up as Card and Natasha use the steps, and Natasha helps Kitano remove his jacket, Card taking his mirrored sunglasses, and both leaving the ring as referee Brian Warner checks the challenger for weapons.

 

And the lights drop out.

 

“Well, that’s odd. Apparently, KOJI’s so hot that he burned the lights out.”

 

Pete squints in the light, but no, King has not been replaced by Bobby Riley.

 

"HE HAS NOT CONFESSED, HE HAS MADE NO STATEMENT, CHARGES OF MURDER HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AGAINST HIM."

 

And with that, the opening notes of Fear Factory's "Scapegoat" burst forth from the speakers, the lights flashing red and white on the two grungy tones before dropping back into black. The Smarktron kicks into life, showing various highlights from JJ Johnson's matches as the lights continue to flash on the notes, alternating red and white with each tone that emanates from the sound system. The drums kick in, and the house lights fade in, only slightly, bathing the arena in an eerie blood red light as smoke begins to billow from the stage.

“Well, looks like someone’s got a new entrance.” starts Pete, but that’s as far as he gets...

 

RRRRRRRRRRAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

 

...before Burton C. Bell's throaty growl comes tearing out of the speakers, and with it comes Johnson, his already somewhat intimidating look accented by the flashing lights. With KOJI and company looking on, Johnson strides forward, his eyes never leaving his opponent as he trots up the steps before stepping into the ring and climbing to the second rope, throwing his arms wide as he glares out over the crowd, taking in all of the pro-TKO signs. After a moment, he steps back down, and removes his jacket before handing his belt to Warner as Funyon lifts the mic to his mouth.

 

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship! Introducing first, on my right, the challenger. In the black tights, with the silver trim. He stands six feet one, and weighs in tonight at 219 pounds...from Saitama Prefecture, Japan...KOOOJIIIIII...KIIIITTAAAAANNOOOOOO!!!!”

And on that announcement, black and silver streamers fly up from behind KOJI! Funyon and Warner both look around, confused, as Johnson arches an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Card and Natasha are digging in their pockets. When they emerge, they’re holding more streamers, which are thrown into the ring as KOJI beams.

 

“YEEAAAAAHH!!”

 

“Puh-lease. Streamers?” asks Pete, almost aghast that there are streamers in a wrestling match on US soil.

 

“Well, it is a championship match, and he is Japanese. I guess Card and Natasha didn’t want to make him feel not at home.” explains King, with a massive cheesy smile on his face.

 

Funyon grins at the positive reaction, before clearing his throat and continuing. “And his opponent, on my left, in the red trunks with the white trim. He stands six feet one, and weighs in tonight at 219 pounds...from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, with a current reign of 63 days...he is the reigning AND DEFENDING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION...J...J...JOOOOHHNNNSSOONNN!!!!”

 

“BOOOOO!”

 

No streamers for the champion, but Johnson doesn’t really seem to care as Funyon and various cameraman rush to clear the ring, Brian Warner holding the Cruiserweight Championship above his head and showing it to all sides of the ring. The Crusierweight Championship Match graphic fills the screen, before being swept away along with the last of the streamers, and Warner signals for the bell.

 

DING DING DING!

 

“And we’re underway!” cries Pete, KOJI and JJ circling each other, KOJI in his normal style as Johnson adopts a shoot-fighting stance, which while comfortable for him is still far from his normal approach to a wrestling match. KOJI and Johnson move closer and closer, and KOJI extends his hand for a test of strength, but Johnson has other plans as he throws a HARD roundhouse kick! KOJI sees it coming, and it goes whistling over his head as he drops down to the mat, swinging his leg around to sweep the champion, but Johnson sees THAT coming and jumps. KOJI is up quick, however, and he immediately throws a roundhouse of his own, but again the champ sees it and drops onto his belly on the mat. Kitano tries a stomp, but Johnson rolls onto his back, and tucks his knees up under his chin before kipping up and out of the way of KOJI’s sweep kick aimed at his head. Again, KOJI swings himself up to his feet, and Johnson tries a thrust kick to the stomach, but KOJI catches it, and sticks his middle finger in the teetering Canadian’s face before throwing his foot away...

 

 

*SMAAAAACK!*

 

 

...only for Johnson to continue his momentum and catch KOJI in the face with a Dragon Whip! Despite Johnson coming out on top, the crowd applauds the impressive martial arts display, and the Canadian champion dives on top of the stunned Kitano for the cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

But KOJI sticks his arm up, and Johnson’s hopes for an early victory are shattered. Instead of continuing his attack, Johnson gets up, and waits for KOJI to shake the cobwebs out of his head and rise to his feet.

 

“This is certainly not in Johnson’s usual gameplan, King. Usually, he tries to keep his opponent grounded as much as possible, and wear him down for a submission hold, or a high-impact suplex.” notes Pete, as KOJI palms himself in the ear a few times to try and knock sense back into his brain. When he does, he notices that Johnson is offering a test of strength. KOJI looks at Card, who gives him a look of “if you want too”, before accepting the hand. With one-half of the knuckle lock in, Johnson is slightly more cautious, and flexes his fingers a few times, KOJI and Johnson brushing fingers lightly a few times before they take the plunge. Johnson looks like he’s gaining the advantage, forcing KOJI ever downwards.

 

But it’s hard to maintain an advantage when a glob of spit just flew into your eyes.

 

“Well, THAT wasn’t necessary.” mutters Pete.

 

“Nonsense, Drain Clogger. As somebody once said, win

 

“YEEAAHH!!”

 

As King and Pete bicker, the Iowa fans cheer KOJI’s cheat to win attitude, and KOJI responds, in the absence of ability to give them the finger, with an EVIL~ sneer as he forces the semi-blinded champion to his knees. Johnson shakes his head hard from side to side, his hair flailing about as he attempts to dislodge the wad of saliva. Having failed, Johnson instead sneaks his leg around from behind him and hooks it around KOJI’s leg before pulling, bringing the challenger to the mat and using his grip to pull the Japanese man towards him and into a pinning predicament.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

But KOJI breaks his grip and rolls away, onto his stomach, and Johnson finally wipes the saliva out of his eyes before scooting in with a front facelock. KOJI manages to slide his way out from under the champion, and rolls before applying a facelock of his own. Johnson sticks an arm up in the hold, and pulls KOJI’s grip apart before scrambling behind and applying a hammerlock. Johnson slips under, and puts on his own hammerlock, but KOJI returns the favor before releasing the arm and scooting over into a side headlock. Johnson slips his head out, and scoots forward before grabbing KOJI’s head and applying a cravate, wrenching on KOJI’s head and neck as he takes a breather.

 

“And finally, the action slows down. These two don’t seem to be letting the fact that their respective factions are at war get in the way of good ol’ fashioned wrestling.” says Pete, almost beaming with pride as Johnson continues to tug.

 

“Except, you know, when KOJI flicked JJ off. And spit in his eye. Which I loved.” corrects King, as KOJI manages to slip his arm into the hold and break it, twisting away and facing Johnson before ramming his shoulder into the champion’s gut and tossing him overhead with a release Northern Lights suplex. Johnson decides to abandon the mat game for now and gets to his feet, so Kitano rolls forward before rolling back onto his shoulders and kipping up. Before he can turn around, Johnson rushes in and latches on a rear waistlock. KOJI immediately begins evasive tactics, spreading his base as wide as he can before sticking his arm down into the lock, attempting to pull Johnson’s hands apart. The fingers are locked tight, and stay locked, but KOJI’s sandbagging prevents him from being dropped most unceremoniously on his neck with a German, so Johnson breaks the hold himself before clocking KOJI in the back of the head with a hard elbow. Kitano grabs at the base of his neck, and Johnson takes advantage of his arm’s position by snaking his arm up and locking on a half nelson before bringing him over and dropping him on his head with a suplex!

 

“HAAAAALF NELSON SUPLEXU!” shouts King, in a manner that makes all within hearing distance turn and stare. Johnson, meanwhile, makes the cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR-NO! KOJI kicks out at 2.5, and Johnson wastes no time in grabbing his hair and pulling him to his feet...

 

...only for Kitano to snap into animation, and throw Johnson out of the ring! Through the ropes, of course. Johnson hits the apron hard on the way out, and lands on the mats outside clutching at his back. Warner warns KOJI about things like that, but if Kitano hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he sprints to the ropes, rebounding off and charging full speed to the opposite ropes before leaping gracefully to the top strand, then sailing off into the wild blue yonder, flipping before coming down HARD on the newly arisen Johnson with a 450 lariat!

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEAAAHH!!”

 

The crowd leaps to its feet on impact, roaring with excitement as the flippy-floppy clothesline hits its target, and Johnson is on his back for the second time in 15 seconds as KOJI rolls away from the wreckage, clutching at his knee.

 

“Spectacular move by KOJI, and that might finally turn the tide of this match in someone’s favor!” shouts Pete, on his feet alongside the rest of the arena, except for two men. One, up in the cheap seats, who is a devout heel supporter, and another, at the announce table, who is the greatest heel of all time.

 

“Yeah. Johnson’s. Look how KOJI landed hard on his knees, and I have it on good faith that KOJI doesn’t wear kneepads. Or, if you won’t believe that, look at how KOJI’s grimacing as he grabs his leg. That’s not a smile of joy, I’ll tell you that much.” smirks King, as KOJI hobbles to his feet, Card checking on him with a slightly worried look on his face. KOJI assures him he’s fine, although his limp says otherwise, and so Card strides over to confer with Natasha, all the while looking at KOJI with that same worried look. Johnson, meanwhile, has gotten up, although gingerly, and he meets the oncoming KOJI with a sharp kick to the left knee before grabbing him and whipping him with all of his strength, knees-first into the steps!

 

*CLAA-AA-AANGG!!*

 

The force of the impact sends KOJI flipping over the steel, and his back makes a *whap!* as it slams into the pads, Kitano clutching at his knees still as Johnson rolls into and out of the ring to break the count. With Warner admonishing him, Johnson reaches over the guardrail and shoos a fan out of his seat before grabbing said seat and setting it in the corner, against the barrier. He then picks up KOJI, and sets him in the chair before delivering a HARD kick to the knee that doubles the smaller half of TKO over with pain.

 

“Ummm...what is Johnson doing, King?” Pete is rightfully curious, as maneuvers such as this aren’t exactly commonplace.

 

“Hell if I know, Pete. I predict it ends well, though. For Johnson and I, anyway.” King says, equally confused. Meanwhile, Johnson has started walking across the ringside area, clapping his hands over his head in an attempt to get some sort of chant started. Apart from the “heel section” in the nosebleeds screaming “O-LE, OLE OLE OLE!”, nobody picks up on it, and Johnson simply shrugs his shoulders...

 

*CLANG!*

 

 

...before sprinting across the ringside area and slamming KOJI’s head into the rail with a Yakuza kick! KOJI slumps out of his seat, and Johnson grabs him and picks him up before rolling him into the ring. He then takes his time walking up the stairs, stops on the apron, and then hops up to the top rope before leaping skyward and coming down on KOJI’s battered knees with a knee drop of his own. KOJI sits up in agony, only for Johnson to put him back down with an overhand slap to the chest before grabbing his leg and dragging him into the middle of the ring, where he drops a leg on his before tying KOJI’s up around his, tucking the TKO member’s right leg into the crook of his left knee, then trapping his ankle with his own leg, locking on an old-school Indian Deathlock!

 

“Indian Deathlock! One of the most efficient holds in the bid’ness, and it’s applied perfectly here by the champion! That’ll definitely wear those already-battered legs down.” the Miami Menace says, doing his job quite well as Johnson leans up on his elbow and shoves at KOJI’s knee with his foot, causing the man from Japan to writhe on the mat as pain shoots through his leg. Satisfied, Johnson stops pushing and sits up, a mocking grin on his face as he looks at KOJI. KOJI responds by sitting up and sticking his thumb in Johnson’s eye! Johnson immediately grabs at it as Warner admonishes his opponent, but doesn’t release the hold, much to KOJI’s chagrin. That chagrin grows ever greater as Johnson, now angry, puts the foot on the knee and once more begins to shove, again making the hold work its magic as KOJI’s eyes bug out.

 

“LET’S GO KO-JI!” *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

 

“LET’S GO KO-JI!” *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

 

The fans begin to chant, trying to will Kitano back into the match, and KOJI sits up with a fire in his eyes...

 

*DOINK!*

 

...but Johnson puts one of the fires out with a thumb to the eye! The crowd boos at his literal eye-for-an-eye tactics, which confuses the Canadian, as they just cheered that thing fifteen seconds ago. Notching it up to their being in Iowa, Johnson puts pressure on the hold once more before he starts chanting something. His voice is very, very raspy, and hard to pick up, but those in the first row can barely pick up what he’s saying.

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

 

Johnson looks around, but the chant doesn’t seem to be picking up, except for in one area of the audience.

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-SON!” *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*

 

“For the love of God, King, sit down.”

 

Finally, KOJI props himself up on his hands, and begins to crabwalk to the ropes, tugging Johnson along as he goes. Johnson tries to pull himself back, but he starts too late, and KOJI manages to reach out and grab the ropes.

 

“COME ON, BREAK IT JJ! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-”

 

And Johnson quickly untangles his legs from KOJI’s before standing, pulling KOJI back into the center of the ring, and running to the ropes before springing off and backflipping with a quebrada! KOJI rolls out of the way, and Johnson has the wherewithal to put his feet down, where he lands.

 

 

And goes down, screaming as best he can with his mangled vocal cords, grabbing at his right ankle as he rolls around.

 

“Oh...that’s not good. Ladies and gentlemen, I think Johnson might be hurt.” says Pete, in a solemn voice, as Johnson begins scrabbling to untie his boot, Warner calling other refs down to help. They finally get the boot off, and Warner tries to touch the leg, only for Johnson to scream and shove him away. KOJI, meanwhile, is watching, and with Card yelling at him from the floor, a sinister grin forms on his face. The refs move out of the way to see if Johnson can get up on his own, and KOJI takes that advantage to shoot in, grappling for the wounded ankle.

 

 

 

 

*POW!*

 

 

 

 

Which comes off the mat and shoots its bare heel into KOJI’s orbital bone, a ominous pop sounding through the air as KOJI snatches at his eye and rolls out of the ring, to be tended to by Card and Natasha.

 

Meanwhile, in the ring, Johnson puts his boot back on, with the greatest of ease, before kipping up and proceeding, to massive jeers, to put on a flawless display of Riverdancing.

 

A dance, you realize, that requires perfectly healthy ankles.

 

“BOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“HA! I LOVE IT! KOJI got greedy, and Johnson made him pay! KOJI may be crown prince of the Japanese rudos, but he’s no match for the Lord of the Dance!” shouts King, giving Johnson a nickname so ridiculous that it’s never, ever going to be mentioned again. KOJI, after a quick checkover, is deemed to be fine by Card, and so rolls back into the ring to come face-to-face once more with the wannabe-Flatley. Johnson throws a kick at his head, but in a scene reminiscent of earlier, KOJI ducks and, instead of trying for a sweep, leaps into the air before wrapping his wounded legs around Johnson’s head and dropping him on his skull with a reverse hurricanrana! KOJI gets to his feet, although gingerly, and immediately drops to one knee before engaging in a double-bicep pose as he shouts at the top of his lungs.

 

“SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIKEUH!!”

 

“YEEEAAAAAAHHH!!!”

 

KOJI then pins the champion, hooking the leg as far as he can as Warner drops down to make the count.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREENOO!!!

 

Johnson JUST shoots the shoulder up, and KOJI immediately begins to regret taking the time to engage in that pose instead of just making the pin. Pete agrees.

 

“See, now, in the time it took him to form that double-bicep, the referee could’ve slapped the mat for a third time, and we’d be looking at a new champion right now.”

 

“Well, Pete.” King begins. “KOJI let his ego get the best of him. He’s been dominated for a good part of this match, and I think he’s as surprised as we are that he was able to pull off a move like that with his legs in the shape they’re in.”

 

“KOJI’s still got quite the vertical leap on him, King.” says Pete as KOJI stomps at Johnson, before running an executing a springing quebrada...

 

...that he turns into a somersault senton, crashing down HARD on Johnson’s chest! The crowd cheers, but the move was not without costs, as KOJI grabs at his legs for a moment before draping himself over Johnson.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

NO! Johnson shoots the shoulder up even quicker than the reverse hurricanrana put him down for, and KOJI rolls off of him and to his feet, biding his time. Johnson gets up soon after, and KOJI rushes in and delivers a HIGH KICKAAAAA to Johnson’s jaw, dropping him to one knee. KOJI’s knee is burning, but that doesn’t stop him from running and stepping up onto Johnson’s knee before grabbing his head and flipping over with his signature flipping neck snap!

 

“SHINING DARKNESS! But again, KOJI can’t take advantage right away!” Pete shouts. “Either he’s going to have to stop using moves that require a lot of leg use, or he’s going to have to use leg moves that land him on top of Johnson.”

 

KOJI goes to drape himself over Johnson, but the Canadian has already recovered, and rolls out onto the apron. KOJI starts to get up, but Johnson is up as well, and he grabs at his neck before pulling himself to the top rope and dropping down with another knee drop!

 

*BANG!*

 

 

It’s been KOJI’s experience that knee drops hurt a lot worse when they hit you, and so by the time Johnson’s in mid-air, Kitano is already up and sprinting to the opposite ropes. Johnson hits hard, and winces a little, but then looks up to see something far worse than that coming towards him. Namely, 219 pounds of KOJI, with a 15 foot head start. Knee-first.

 

*CAA-FUCKING-RAAAACK!!!*

 

“BUSAAAIIIIKUUU KNEE KICK!!!” cries Pete, Johnson’s eyes glazing over before he slumps lifelessly to the mat. Card bangs on the apron, and KOJI squeezes his eyes closed, trying to force the now-excruciating pain out of his knee. It doesn’t work, but with the Cruiserweight Title so close, and another coup over Cucaracha Internacional as well, KOJI forces himself through it as he once again drapes himself over the champion’s shoulders.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE~!

 

 

 

“NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES! BUT DAMN IF THAT WASN’T CLOSE!”

 

KOJI can even hear Pete, he’s yelling so loud, and he sits bolt upright...and sure enough, Johnson’s foot is draped over the bottom rope. KOJI swears, more spitting the word than saying it, then grabs the roped leg and hooks it as he pins Johnson once again.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR-SHOULDER UP! All three members of TKO are growing restless now, frustated at KOJI’s inability to follow up; frustrated at Johnson’s refusal to stay down. And so long as Johnson doesn’t stay down, the better chance he has of winning.

 

And they can’t be having that.

 

KOJI gets up, rubbing his knee as he waits for Johnson to rise. It’s really starting to hurt now, almost feels like it’s on fire. In fact, KOJI would probably prefer it was on fire. But again, with victory this close, he can’t slow down. He can’t stop. It’s that close. Johnson pulls himself up on the ropes, and KOJI rushes forward, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and throwing him into the ringpost!

 

*CLANG!*

 

“YEAH!”

 

The grin returns to KOJI’s face as Johnson grabs at his shoulder, and he walks around the ring slapping his chest with a big cheesy grin on his face. Brian Warner goes up, getting in KOJI’s face and admonishing him for such dirty tactics.

 

And that’s when Card strikes. Johnson, despite his pain-clouded state, sees the canister in his hands...

 

*PFFFSSSHHTT!!*

 

“AEROSOL EQUALIZER!”

 

...but Johnson got his hand up. Card swears, then strolls away innocently, and KOJI pulls Johnson out of the corner before throwing a quick side kick. Johnson takes it in the ribs, but he blocks the next one, and shoves KOJI back onto his back. KOJI rolls through, ignoring the pain in his leg, and Johnson thrusts his foot towards Kitano’s knee. KOJI’s too quick, though, and he spreads his legs and easily dodges the thrust kick.

 

 

Which would be marvelous, if that was what Johnson is doing.

 

 

But it isn’t, and Johnson continues his leg thrust before diving with his other leg, sticking it behind KOJI’s leg and dropping down to the mat before rolling to the left and bringing Kitano down to the mat, with a flying hiza-jujigatame! KOJI is quick to sit up and grab Johnson’s leg before he can lock on the hold, and the two come to a standstill, both attempting to force the Canadian’s leg in their preferred direction. Johnson strains, but KOJI refuses to stop pushing. The same is in reverse, as Johnson refuses to stop pushing. Brian Warner sees Card out on the floor, and knowing his reputation, takes his eyes off the struggle in mid-ring momentarily to warn Technical Perfection against any interference.

 

KOJI sits up, as Johnson does, both getting in each other’s face as they continue to struggle.

KOJI stares at Johnson, grimacing with the effort, his hands currently occupied with Johnson’s leg.

 

Johnson stares back at KOJI. And grins. Before sticking his palm in KOJI’s eye.

 

“AAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

 

Warner jumps at the scream, then turns to see KOJI clutching his eyes with both hands. Johnson smiles, then brings his leg down and fully locks in the cross-kneebreaker, pulling hard. The pain in KOJI’s eyes is immense, but the pain in his leg is worse, and the eyes can be washed out. He’s really only got one option.

 

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Scapegoat” hits, and Johnson holds onto the lock for a second longer before releasing the hold and accepting his belt from Brian Warner, Card and Natasha dumbstruck on the outside as Funyon raises the microphone to his mouth.

 

“Here is your winner, and STILL...SWF Cruiserweight Champion...J...J...JOHHNSON!!”

 

“Ha! Perfect! KOJI taps out, and it was all through principle and discipline!” cries King, gloating again.

 

“And pepper spray. Either way, ladies and gentlemen, stick around for our main event. Will Luchamania continue to run wild, or will Mags’ doom run swift and strong like a river? A river of doom!”

 

 

Johnson takes the belt and leaves the ring, penetrating Card with a nasty glare. Card glares back, and almost gets in the Canadian’s face, but Johnson raises his palm, and Card is quick to back off. Johnson laughs at that, and continues to walk to the back, KOJI grabbing at his eyes in the ring the last camera angle as we...

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Chuck Woolery 0]

JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!

 

‘After the Flesh’ thunders out across the arena as Smarkdown returns from commercial break, signaling the entrance of one disgruntled Barracuda. Unlike most times when he makes his grand entrance, there are no fireworks, smoke or mirrors. Tonight it’s just Johnny. Marching straight out from backstage he doesn’t even stop to harass the fans, instead heading straight to the ring. Johnny rolls in and heads to the far side for a microphone, which is promptly handed to him before he turns and motions for his music to be cut off. Leaving only the distinct roar of the booing crowd and their nasty chants.

 

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

 

The chants of the Iowa fans are thunderous, but it’s nothing the Barracuda hadn’t already heard before and he’d certainly expected a verbal backlash tonight. These fans hadn’t sided with him since Ground Zero and he knew they wouldn’t start now.

 

“Cedar Rapids, Iowa,” the Barracuda says as he raises the microphone to his lips and a hush falls over the audience. “Over the course of the last week I’ve received numerous letters, e-mails and phone calls of various people – people who don’t know a damn thing about me – telling me how horrible it was for me to abandon Wildchild in last weeks tag match against TKO.”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“They’d certainly be right by saying it was horrible,” chimes Pete. “What Johnny Dangerous did in that ring was down right disgraceful! How could you do that to the man you call your best friend?”

 

“Well I think he’s out here to further explain himself,” replies King. “In fact, maybe there is more to this story than you know, Drain-Clogger! Maybe Wildchild is guilty of more than what *we* know!”

 

“Well,” continues Johnny, half smiling as he paces the ring, “let me tell you all that what you saw was something that was a long time in the making. Something that was long coming, and *long* overdue. For over three years now I have partnered myself Dominic LeCroix, known better to the world as the Wildchild and for a long while it was the greatest partnership in the SWF…Wild and Dangerous - the greatest tag team in the SWF ever. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, all good things *must* come to an end and Wild and Dangerous is no exception to the rule. It’s just too bad that Wildchild felt he needed to destroy this team.”

 

“Wildchild….destroyed Wild and Dangerous!? What in the hell-”

 

“You all saw what happened on Lockdown,” says Johnny, continuing before Longdogger Pete has the chance to add his two cents in. The crowd starts to become a little rowdy, obviously not pleased to hear this twisted and warped take on the actions that took place last week. “You all saw how I was once again carrying the team on my shoulders - winning this match so Wild and Dangerous could once more become the Tag Team Champions, but Wildchild just couldn’t take being the secondary star on this tag team and he violently attacked me!”

 

“He’s right Pete,” says King. “We all saw the Wildchild knock Johnny out of the ring when things were looking so good for them.”

 

“It was an accident! Wildchild did *not* purposely target Johnny!”

 

“And as screwed up is that is…I could see it coming a mile away,” Johnny says. “Ever since that two faced little bitch Melissa Fasaki came along and started trying to turn Dominic against me I knew she’d set this chain of events into motion. I just wasn’t sure exactly when it would happen, but I was ready for it when it did happen. So after Wildchild decided to attack me so he could look better in the match and win it all on his own…I decided it was time to loose a little weight. It was time to drop about two hundred and fourteen pounds to be precise...and so that’s exactly what I did.”

 

“And now I leave it at just that. This is over. I did everything I could to make myself successful and in turn you, the fans and supporters of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation decided to turn your backs to me. To treat me like some kind of a wretched soul and for what I ask - because I figured out the way for me to be successful in this company and it just so happened to not agree with you people!?”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

“JOHN-E SUCKS!”

 

“Go ahead and boo me it just proves my point! I am far better without you people than when I had you! It didn’t just stop there though. Your influence on Wildchild was more than what he could bear. He couldn’t stand going out here every night and not getting cheered by you clowns. He couldn’t stand all the pressure you put on him to not be a stupid spot monkey in the ring. He couldn’t take getting booed because I wanted him to forget about what you idiots thought and focus on the one thing that mattered…winning, and by *any* means necessary.”

 

“In the end, as it turns out, that like you people…he turned on me as well! However, I’m not going to hold a grudge. I’m not going to bash his skull in. I’m not going to leave him lying in a bloody pool of his own self esteem like I would do to that Mexican bastard ELM. Wildchild is free and clear to go on and become even more of a total hack in the ring by his lonesome, while I go on to another Championship. However,” he says, looking dead into the camera lenses, “be warned Wildchild. Though you may be a freakin’ moron now that you have Melissa Fasaki guiding your career…don’t be stupid enough to think you’ll be able to stand up to me in the ring. I know that you’ll blame me for the fall of Wild and Dangerous, even when it’s clear as day that it was you. You’ll get really stupid and think that you should challenge me to a match to get some false sense of satisfaction for me hanging your caramel ass out to dry…but it wouldn’t have happened if you had just left well enough alone!”

 

The crowd is more rowdy than ever now. Chants keep piling on while the Barracuda tries to continue ranting.

 

“None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me, Dominic! If you would just forget what these idiots out here think about you! They’ll never jump into the ring to help you when your getting bum rushed by whatever little faction springs up. They’ll never get you a Tag Team Championship! They’ll never do anything but watch and talk about it like they know a God damned thing about what we have to endure! That’s the choice you’ve made, and thought it pains me to just leave you be cause trust me, right now, I’d have no problems whooping your ass for what you’ve done, brother or not! However, that’s no the road I plan to take cause I am better than that. I am a better man than you, Dominic! I don’t take out my aggressions on my friends! But if you ever cross me again all bets are off, Dominic. So be warned…don’t f(bleep!)k with me!”

 

Dropping the microphone to the mat, Johnny ends his tirade. His music hits loudly while the crowd chants obscenities towards him and finally, he rolls out of the ring and makes his way towards backstage.

 

“Well,” begins Pete. “The Barracuda has given his twisted side of the story but I’m not buying it! Wildchild had no intentions of leaving Johnny, even when things were looking down for the team. He stuck through the thick and the thin, but the Barracuda jumped ship when it didn’t sail his way!”

 

“Oh, please, Pete,” King dismisses his announcing partner with a wave of his hand. “Johnny’s right about everything. You just like that spot monkey Wildchild so much that you’ve let it cloud your judgment on this situation. I just hope, for the sake of Wildchild, that he takes heed to the Barracuda’s advice and stay away from him.”

 

“Somehow, I just don’t see that happening,” adds Pete. As we…

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT.

[Chuck Woolery 0]

SWF Smarkdown returns from its final commercial break of the evening, treating the viewer at home to a breathtaking shot of the inside of the Five Seasons Center, packed to the brim with several thousand excited Iowans. Enjoying their break from their lives of quiet desperation, an anxious murmur rises from the teeming mass of Iowans as they wait for the final match of the evening. Their anticipation comes to a head when the lights are suddenly cut out and a throng of hooded druids march out from behind the stage.

 

DOOM

 

DOOM

 

DOOM

 

DOOM

 

DOOM

 

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

 

A mighty cheer rises from the audience as the druids line the barrier, facing the ring. All at once, the lights come back up, the druids go silent, and Boots Randolph’s “Yakety Sax” hits the speakers. Jimmy the Doom strides through the entrance curtain, looking majestic in his Cat in the Hat...hat made from alternating layers of skunk fur. Lois the Unethical trails only a step behind him, her face as cold as Doomtopia’s bitterest winters.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is tonight’s MAIN EVENT!” Funyon begins, drawing a raucous cheer from the capacity crowd. “Introducing first, accompanied by Lois the Unethical, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds...he hails from Doomopolis, Doomtopia...JIMMMMMMMM-EEEEE THE DOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!”

 

Jimmy makes his way down the entrance ramp, passing the lines of loyal druids at his back and call. As he passes the last two, Jimmy suddenly spins around and bashes one in the face, immediately knocking the anonymous man to the floor. Lois smiles and nods approvingly as Jimmy continues down the ramp, acting as though nothing happened. Mr. the Doom rolls beneath the bottom rope, pops to his feet, and strides into the center of the ring while Mrs. the Unethical walks around the ring, keeping her eyes locked on her Doomtopian hunk of burning love.

 

“And welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, everyone!” Pete finally says. “We’ve had a fantastic show here in Cedar Rapids, and we’re ready to cap it off with what’s sure to be a terrific main event!”

 

“Psh. Some main event.” King rolls his eyes. “A backwoods retard from some made-up country taking on our finest performer, El Luchadore Magnifico. It’s downright embarassing, is what it is.”

 

Jimmy’s remained completely still since stepping into the middle of the ring, his eyes focused on the entrance stage. His view becomes a little less clear when the lights are cut out once more, causing the crowd to boo in anticipation.

 

“HEY HEY!”

 

*BOOOOOOOOOMMM!!*

 

The intro to Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” is shouted over the speakers as red, white, and green pyro shoots upwards from the entrance stage. A moment later, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts through the pyro-induced smoke and onto the entrance ramp, illuminated by a single spotlight. Waves of boos cascade in from the stage as Magnifico quickly walks down the entrance ramp, the World Title wrapped around his waist, his Mexican flag flapping behind him, and his head bobbing to the thumping bass of his music.

 

“And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds...he is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...” Funyon pauses. “EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

As Magnifico approaches the bottom of the entrance ramp, he notices that it’s still lined by Jimmy’s druids, who simply seem to be hanging around, not really sure what to do next. One nods and waves at ELM, who just raises his eyebrow in response. As he passes the devoted followers, Magnifico picks up bits and pieces of their conversation.

 

“...the swelling finally went down...”

 

“...oh yeah, you betcha....”

 

“...so, whattya wanna do after whatever it is we’re doing here? Ya wanna go to Applebee’s, or...”

 

ELM reaches the ring, slides beneath its bottom rope, and pops to his feet. He sees that Jimmy is steadfastly occupying the center of the ring, so he simply thrusts his flag into the air where he stands, the lights going up as he does so. The suddenly-illuminated crowd looks on as Jimmy stares Magnifico down, doing so as the luchadore unwraps the World Title from around his waist and hands it and the flag to the ref.

 

“You may feel that this match is unimportant, King, but I’m sure Jimmy would disagree.” Pete lectures. “To him, this match is an opportunity for Jimmy to prove himself, to show that he’s worthy of fighting for the World Title. A win here could be huge for him.”

 

“Would be, you mean.” King corrects. “There’s no way this lanky, ridiculous fool gets anywhere close to scoring a fall on Magnifico tonight. The pride of Doomtopia is no match for Mexico’s glorious hero.”

 

His hands full of Magnifico’s possessions, the ref reminds the two competitors of the rules very quickly before signaling for the bell.

 

DING DING DING

 

As an excited cheer rises from the crowd, Magnifico begins pacing back and forth in front of Jimmy, getting in a few cursory stretches as he does so. Doom remains completely motionless but doesn’t take his eyes off of ELM for a moment. After a few seconds, this gets on the luchadore’s nerves, and he steps right up to Jimmy and tells him so. Doom cocks his head to the side as ELM curses him out in Spanish, confused by what this small, strange man is doing. This only angers Magnifico further and causes him to lash out with a quick right that strikes Jimmy right in the chin. Doom’s head is snapped backwards, but he quickly shakes it off and smiles, which unsettles Magnifico to say the least.A half second later, Jimmy blasts ELM in the face with a strong right that knocks Magnifico backwards and into the corner! A raucous cheer rises from the audience as Doom follws up the initial strike with a combination of punches and kicks that punish every bit of Magnifico’s upper body.

 

“Well, it took a bit for Jimmy to get going, but just try and stop him now!” Pete happily announces. “Doom is just pummeling Magnifico with those strikes, working him further into the corner with each one!”

 

“Of course, you’ll excuse me if don’t come all over myself while watching Jimmy hit somebody.” King cuts in. “I just hope I’m here to see the spasm of joy that overtakes your body when Mister the Doom latches on a headlock or something.”

 

After pummeling Magnifico mercilessly for a few seconds, Jimmy grabs ELM by the arm, pulls him out of the corner, and whips him across the ring. Magnifico dashes across the canvas, Jimmy running only a couple steps behind him. ELM crashes back-first into the corner, just as Doom is leaping into the air and extending his limbs for a Corner Splash! Jimmy makes perfect contact with said splash, slamming his entire body into Magnifico’s as the fans release an appreciative pop. Stunned, ELM stumbles out of the corner, Jimmy slowly walking backwards so as to remain right in front of him. Once Magnifico is far enough away from the ropes, Jimmy spins around and lashes out with his foot, slamming it into the side of ELM’s head with a devastating Roundhouse Kick! Magnifico crumples to the canvas as the the fans giddily cheer, only growing louder when Jimmy hits the mat and covers the kooky luchadore. Doom hooks Magnifico’s leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! ELM kicks out at two and a half, quickly silencing most of the live audience.

 

“Graceful Roundhouse Kick finishes off an impressive attack from Jimmy the Doom.” Pete reports. “I’m sure Jimmy is taking many people by surprise with his performance thus far.”

 

“Can’t deny that.” King admits. “I thought Jimmy would curl into a ball and cry for mercy the moment he saw Magnifico. He’s exceeded my expectations to say the least.”

 

Unphased, Jimmy rolls off of Magnifico, grabs him by the arm, and stands up, pulling the luchadore to his feet as he stands. Doom then whips ELM across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Jimmy, who grabs the luchadore, hoists him into the air, and twists him around in a Tilt-a-Whirl sort of way! But before Jimmy can turn that into whatever move he has planned, Magnifico twists out of his grip, landing on his feet right in front of Doom! Jimmy immediately lashes out with a quick Lariat, but Magnifico manages to duck beneath Doom’s arm and spin behind him, wrapping his arms around Jimmy’s waist and locking him in a Rear Waistlock as he does so! ELM hoists Jimmy into the air as if for a German Suplex, but Magnifico just can’t get the lanky bastard over his head. As Magnifico tries anyway, Jimmy throws his elbow backwards in mid-air, slamming it into ELM’s skull and immediately discouraging his attempt at a German Suplex. Jimmy hits his feet and immediately breaks free of Magnifico’s grip. He then spins around and throws his head forward, driving it into the bridge of ELM’s nose with a vicious Headbutt! His hand on his possibly-broken nose, Magnifico stumbles backwards and into the ropes behind him, doing so as the pleased fans happily cheer.

 

“And we see Jimmy’s first Headbutt of the contest, which is one of the best in the bidness.” Pete proclaims. “Jimmy’s skull is like a protective shield of steel for his brain.”

 

“Ridiculous hyperbole aside, how can you accurately judge the merit of a Headbutt?” King earnestly asks. “You take you head and slam it into the other guy’s. Where’s the technique in that?”

 

LDP shrugs. “It’s not so much technique as willingness to use as much force as possible. Most competitors shy away from driving their skull into someone else’s because of the whole ‘risking concussion’ thing.”

 

ELM falls against the ropes but receives only a moment’s rest, as Jimmy quickly grabs him by the arm, pulls him off of the ropes, and whips him across the ring. Magnifico bounces off of the far ropes and charges back towards Jimmy, who greets him by thrusting his palm forward, driving the tips of his fingers into ELM’s throat with the Hand of Doom! Magnifico immediately stops dead in his tracks and grabs his throat, choking for breath while the live audience releases a pleased pop. With ELM distracted by not being able to breathe, Jimmy is able to easily slap his hands away and grab him around the neck, right before using that grip to lift Magnifico high into the air for the Jimmy Bomb! But before ELM can complete his ascent, he suddenly drives his knee forward, slamming it into Jimmy’s chest with untold force! Doom’s grip weakens, allowing Magnifico to break free of it and land on his feet right in front of Jimmy. The second he hits his feet, ELM lashes out with his arm, driving it right into the gigantic hamburger on Jimmy’s shirt with a Knife-Edge Chop!

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Nearly everyone in attendance ‘whoo’s despite themselves as Jimmy stumbles backwards, reeling from the combination of blows to his sunken chest. Grinning to himself, ELM rears back once more, drives his arm forward, and…

 

CHOP!

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“Now that’s more like it!” King exclaims. “Magnifico manages to avoid Jimmy’s incessant cheating and get in a few good, stiff blows at his chest. Throat strikes and choking, indeed. Simply embarrassing.”

 

“King, those moves are completely legal and quite effective.” Pete counters. “It’s not Magnifico’s fault that he’s a pencil-necked weakling.”

 

Jimmy falls backwards and into the ropes behind him after the set of chops, which seem to have him momentarily reeling. Seeing this, Magnifico suddenly turns around and breaks into a sprint, bouncing off of the ropes furthest from Doom. ELM then charges back across the ring and blistering speed, quickly bearing down on Doom as the live audience begins to boo in anticipation. But as Magnifico approaches, Jimmy suddenly bends over and grabs him by the legs, before standing up and hurling the luchadore over his head! A mighty cheer rises from the crowd as ELM flies over the top rope and lands on the outside, crashing back-first on the thinly padded floor! Magnifico arches his body and cries out in pain immediately after impact, drawing a warm smile from Doom as he hits the mat and rolls to the outside.

 

“Great move from Jimmy, who takes advantage of a blind charge from ELM to dump him on the outside.” Pete reports. “Magnifico would do well to realize that Jimmy is one of the toughest, if not the toughest, competitors in the SWF. It’ll take more than a knee strike and a couple chops to stun him.”

 

Jimmy steps on the outside and walks over to the luchadore, doing so as the ref begins his count from inside the ring.

 

ONE!

 

Magnifico begins to push himself to his feet, but is cut off halfway by Jimmy, who grabs the luchadore by the hair before painfully pulling him to his feet. Jimmy leads Magnifico over to the nearby guardrail and unceremoniously slams the luchadore’s head into it, doing so as the yahoos in the front row jockey for the best position to get on TV.

 

TWO!

 

Still gripping him by the back of the head, Jimmy then drags Magnifico over the ring post, where, once again, the luchadore is driven forehead-first into a cold steel object. His headache grows more painful by the second, and the irritating sounds of twenty thousand people cheering for his pain doesn’t help matters any.

 

THREE!

 

With ELM is sufficiently stunned by the set of steel strikes, Jimmy is able to easily pull him into a Front Headlock, and almost as easily hoist the luchadore into the air as if for a Vertical Suplex. But before Doom can do whatever it is he planned on doing, Magnifico manages to twist out of his grip, falling behind Jimmy as the nearby fans boo and curse ELM for his unappreciated reversal.

 

FOUR!

 

Magnifico lands on his feet behind Jimmy and immediately drives his knee forward, slamming it into the small of Doom’s back. Jimmy arches his body backwards in pain, making it easier for ELM to stick his head beneath Doom’s arm while trapping him in a Rear Waistlock. Magnifico then lifts Jimmy into the air and immediately falls backwards, slamming his back and shoulders into the floor with a Back Suplex! The crowd seems to wince as one before releasing a massive wave of boos, displeased with this most recent turn of events.

 

FIVE!

 

“Well, good on Jimmy for lasting this long.” King begrudgingly says. “He’ll get counted out and we’ll move on. Thanks for watching, every-“

 

“Shut it, King.” Pete snaps. “It was a nice reversal from Magnifico, but there’s no way to be sure if it’ll be enough to keep Jimmy down for the rest of the ten count.”

 

Immediately after landing the Suplex, Magnifico rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself to his feet, a triumphant grin painted across his face. Ignoring the curses and taunts of the idiots in the front row, ELM stands and rolls into the ring, confident that he has this match won.

 

SIX!

 

Magnifico pops to his feet and turns to the outside, just to make sure Jimmy remains on the outside for the remainder of the count. To his shock and dismay, the luchadore sees that Doom is already on his feet and headed towards the ring, his face blank as he stares fixedly at Magnifico. Doom rolls into the ring and pops to his feet as a horrified ELM hits the ground and crawls backwards away from Jimmy, as if he were the unfortunate future victim of a bloodthirsty zombie.

 

“Haha, not only does Jimmy avoid the ten count, he gets back in the ring only a couple seconds after Magnifico!” Pete gleefully reports.

 

“No selling son of a bitch!” King suddenly cries. “This won’t fly for a second, I’ll tell you that much. Jimmy will be jobbing to Ced Ordonez in Altoona by the end of the week, mark my words.”

 

Magnifico scrambles to his feet as Jimmy slowly walks towards him, a warm but unsettling smile on his face. Scowling, ELM gathers his courage, charges towards Doom, and cracks him in the face with a quick right. Jimmy doesn’t even bother with the pretense of acting stunned this time; instead, he immediately responds with a strong hook to the side of ELM’s jaw, which causes the luchadore to turn and stumble away from Doom. After a few steps, he spins back to face Jimmy, and does so just long enough to receive another stunning blow to his face from Doom. Magnifico’s knocked into the corner by that punch, falling against its turnbuckles as a raucous cheer rises from the delighted crowd. Jimmy strides up to the luchadore and lands a few quick kicks to his gut and chest before grabbing Magnifico by the arm, pulling him out of the corner, and whipping him across the ring. ELM charges towards the far corner, Jimmy running only a couple steps behind him. Unfortunately, because Doom is right behind Magnifico, he doesn’t have time to stop himself when the luchadore runs up the corner’s turnbuckles, and instead crashes chest-first into the corner as Magnifico gracefully flips backwards over him! As Jimmy stumbles backwards, ELM makes a perfect landing on his feet behind him. Immediately after landing, Magnifico steps to Jimmy’s side, grabs his ankles with his feet, and then falls forward, tripping Doom up with a Drop Toe Hold as he does so! As Jimmy falls, his chin bounces off of the top turnbuckle of the corner in front of him, drawing a collective wince from the live audience as they watch Doom fall lifelessly to the canvas. Moving quickly, Magnifico drags Jimmy away from the corner, turns him onto his stomach, and covers him, drawing a wave of annoyed boos from the capacity crowd. As ELM hooks Jimmy’s leg, the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Jimmy kicks out right after two, replacing most of the booing with hopeful cheers and applause.

 

“Jimmy looked to be setting up for the Seven Three Point Five Two Six Seven…whatever…” Pete begins, “But Magnifico managed to run up the turnbuckles and flip backwards over the charging Doomtopian!”

 

“Not only that, but he immediately blasted Jimmy in the face with a Drop Toe Hold into a turnbuckle, just like he did to Danny at Genesis VI!” King cheerfully adds. “Sure, it didn’t quite get a pinfall, but it’s only a matter of time now. Checkmate in three moves.”

 

As Pete rolls his eyes and groans, Magnifico rolls off of Jimmy and pushes himself back to his feet. When he stands, ELM finds, to his annoyance, that Doom is already pushing himself back to his feet. Magnifico kicks and stomps away at Jimmy’s back, but it seems to hardly phase the hardy citizen of glorious Doomtopia. Seeing this, ELM instead grabs Jimmy by the hair, jerks him to his feet, and then pulls unceremoniously Doom into a Front Headlock. Magnifico then hops backwards onto the second turnbuckle of the nearby corner, drawing a wave of anticipatory boos for the planned Tornado DDT. ELM allows himself a small smile at the response before leaping off of the turnbuckle, twisting around in mid-air, and falling onto his back, planting Jimmy’s skull into the canvas with the Tornado DDT! As the boos grow in their intensity, Magnifico basically floats onto Jimmy and covers him, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO! Jimmy kicks out just as quickly as he did a minute ago, quickly changing the crowd’s response to one of relieved cheers.

 

“This does not bode well for Magnifico.” Pete grimly states. “His Tornado DDT is nothing to sneeze at, but Jimmy kicked out of it with ease. Nothing ELM is doing seems to even be wearing Jimmy down.”

 

ELM scowls as he rises, irritated that the Tornado DDT didn’t even keep Jimmy down for a half second longer. At least this time, Doom isn’t pushing himself back to his feet immediately after Magnifico. Encouraged by this, ELM quickly makes his way over to the nearby corner and ascends its turnbuckles, the crowd’s anticipatory booing growing louder and louder as he climbs. When ELM reaches the top rope, he slowly stands up on the top turnbuckle, careful to keep his balance. Without a moment’s pause, Magnifico then leaps off of the top turnbuckle, compressing and then extending his body for a Frogsplash! Thousands of cameras illuminate the scene as Jimmy suddenly sits up, leaving Magnifico without a target! If one were to look closely, they could see ELM’s eyes widen just before missing the Frogsplash and crashing into the canvas with tremendous force! Seemingly oblivious to what just happened, Doom looks behind him and sees Magnifico flop onto his back, completely stunned from the missed Frogsplash. Jimmy ponders this for a moment, shrugs, and then simply lays back down, his head and shoulders making the cover as the live audience laughs and cheers. Doom casually reaches back and hooks Magnifico’s leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up right before the three count, quickly sobering the live audience in the process.

 

“This is ridiculous.” King growls. “Magnifico is being made a fool of. This is not something he will stand for.”

 

“Well, why doesn’t he do something about it?” Pete asks.

 

“…he will! You just watch!” King snaps, indignant.

 

LDP rolls his eyes. “You can’t deny that Magnifico just looked foolish on that Frogsplash, King. Jimmy didn’t even seem to know that ELM was attempting it and countered it completely by accident.”

 

Jimmy rolls off of ELM, grabs him by the arm, and then stands up, pulling Magnifico to his feet as he stands. Doom then uses his grip to whip ELM across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Jimmy, who quickly twists behind the luchadore, trapping him in a Rear Waistlock as he does so! While still moving, Doom then hoists Magnifico into the air and simply throws him over his head! However, ELM manages to flip out of the Jimmy-Plex, landing on his feet behind the still-spinning Doom! A somewhat-dizzy Jimmy turns towards Magnifico and receives a stiff kick to his gut in return, which doubles Doom over somewhat and gives ELM unimpeded access to his arm. Magnifico takes said arm and wraps it into a Chickenwing, then wraps his other arm around Jimmy’s head and falls to his knees, driving his shoulder into Doom’s chin with Montezuma’s Revenge! Jimmy snaps backwards off of Magnifico shoulder and falls to the canvas, doing so as a wave of irritated booing pours in from the live audience. ELM immediately covers Jimmy after the Chickenwing Jawbreaker, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-No! Jimmy kicks out at two and a half, quickly cheering the crowd up as he does so. Growing angrier by the second, Magnifico rolls off of Jimmy, curses, and slaps the mat in frustration.

 

“ELM manages to land Montezuma’s Revenge, but it’s not enough to keep Jimmy down for the three count!” Pete reports. “And now we see Magnifico’s frustration bubbling to the surface once more, as he seems to be growing furious at his inability to score a pinfall!”

 

“And what, you think Magnifico’s anger is going to get the better of him?” King scoffs. “Please. If anybody should be worried, it’s Jimmy. ELM was probably going to let him get off easy with a quick Dia de los Muertos, but noooooo. Jimmy had to be difficult. Now he gets the painful, humiliating finish.”

 

“Which is what, exactly?” Pete asks.

 

“…damn you, Longdogger.” King grumbles, unable to think of an answer.

 

Done with his brief hissy fit, Magnifico grabs Jimmy by the arm and pulls him to his feet, before using his grip to whip Doom across the ring and towards the far ropes. Jimmy bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Magnifico, who ducks beneath Doom’s arm while grabbing him under the other one, setting him up for the Rio Grande Slam in the center of the ring! However, before ELM can lift Jimmy, he abruptly drives his elbow into the side of Magnifico’s skull, which stuns the luchadore and weakening his grip significantly. Doom swats ELM’s arm away before grabbing both sides Magnifico’s head and squeezing it as though it were an overripe melon, locking in the Head Vice to the delight of the live audience! Magnifico flails and cries out in pain as his brain is compressed by the awesome force of the Vice, cueing the ref to ask ELM if he wants to submit. Magnifico pointedly refuses before releasing another harrowing cry of pain, which only encourages Jimmy and causes him to squeeze the luchadore’s head even harder. However, he’s not to garner a submission from the Head Vice on this day, as Magnifico, his head still in Jimmy’s grap, suddenly leaps up and kicks his feet out, slamming them into Doom’s chest with a Standing Dropkick! Jimmy is knocked backwards and into the ropes by the force of the Dropkick and his grip is broken as the disappointed fans immediately quiet down.

 

“No! Jimmy had Magnifico in utter agony with the Head Vice, but ELM managed to break free with a Standing Dropkick to his chest!” Pete exclaims.

 

“Serves Jimmy right, the bum.” Pete adds, his arms crossed. “Trying to get a submission with that ridiculous move. I hope Magnifico makes the finish he had in mind even more devastating and humiliating now!”

 

Magnifico is on his feet right after the Dropkick, and is ready to capitalize on the strike as Doom bounces off of the ropes he was just knocked into. The second Jimmy comes off of the ropes, Magnifico grabs him and lifts him into the air, before spinning Doom’s body around for La Dia de los Muertos! However, Jimmy manages to wriggle out of his grip in mid-spin, sliding down ELM’s back and landing on his feet right behind the luchadore! Magnifico immediately spins around to face Jimmy, and Doom responds by shooting his hands out and wrapping them around ELM’s neck! Jimmy then hoists Magnifico into the air before sitting out and slamming him into the canvas with ridiculous force, landing the Jimmy Bomb as a deafening pop rises from the stands! Not moving from his sitting position, Jimmy grabs ELM’s legs and pulls them back, pinning him to the canvas as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHRRRRRNNNNNOOOOO!!

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

Magnifico manages to get a shoulder up mere milliseconds before the three count, greatly disappointing the live audience in the process.

 

“No! Jimmy gets off the Jimmy Bomb on his second try, but it’s not quite enough to get the pin!” Pete excitedly reports. “But regardless, Magnifico is in a very tough position here! One more strong move might be enough to keep him down for the three count!”

 

“Too bad he’s not going to land any more moves, much less a quote unquote strong one.” King counters. “Magnifico will pay this man his due respect; he managed to survive in the ring with the World Champion, and he deserves to be lauded for that. But with that out of the way, ELM will soon finish toying around with Jimmy and mercifully finish him off.”

 

Seemingly completely unphased by the kickout, Jimmy rolls off of the luchadore, grabs him by the arm, and then stands, pulling Magnifico to his feet as he does so. Jimmy then uses his grip to twist ELM’s arm over his head, locking the luchadore into an Arm Wringer in the center of the ring! The fans are already roaring in anticipation, and only grow louder when Jimmy slams his knee into Magnifico’s gut, doubling him over, right before blasting ELM right in the face with the same knee! Magnifico’s body is snapped backwards, but Jimmy’s grip on his arm doesn’t allow him to fall to the mat! Doom begins to brutally punish ELM’s knees and legs with a series of stiff, quick kicks, doing so until Magnifico’s legs buckle beneath him and he falls to his knees!

 

“Doomsday! Jimmy has initiated his vicious strike combination, and looks to be one big kick away from winning this match!” Pete shouts.

 

The cheers reach a fever pitch as Jimmy winds the kick up, measuring Magnifico up for the final blow. Finally, Doom lashes out with his foot, aiming it directly at the back of Magnifico’s head! But before the kick can make contact, ELM suddenly jerks his arm free and ducks beneath the kick, the tip of Jimmy’s boot just grazing the top of Magnifico’s scalp! A surprised and disappointed “OHHHH!” rises from the crowd as Jimmy spins around on the mat, carried by the momentum of the kick. In one swift motion, Magnifico pops to his feet and pulls Jimmy into a Backslide position, drawing a wave of anticipatory boos from the capacity crowd! Moving quickly, ELM makes a break for the nearby corner and dashes up its turnbuckles, jumping and flipping off of the top one as the crowd looks on in horror! Magnifico flips over Jimmy and lands on his knees, pulling Doom down with him and slamming his face into the canvas with the Baja California Crusher!

 

“Whoo ha, he’s got you all in check!” King suddenly cries. “Jimmy’s pathetic excuse for a finisher is effortlessly reversed into the Baja California Crusher, just as I predicted! Yeah!”

 

Not wasting a moment, Magnifico immediately turns Jimmy onto his back and covers him, doing so as the incensed fans boo as loudly as they know how. The ref slides into position and begins counting, doing so as ELM reaches over and hooks Jimmy’s leg…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE!!

 

DING DING DING

 

“Your winner, by pinfall…” Funyon dutifully announces. “EL LUCHAAAADOOOOOOORRRRRE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

The vast majority of Funyon’s announcement is drowned out by the boos and taunts pouring in from every corner of the arena. Magnifico slowly climbs back to his feet, tired and sore but none the worse for wear, and revels in the hatred directed towards him. The ref raises his hand and ELM thrusts the other won into the air, laughing triumphantly as he does so. On the outside, a crestfallen Lois the Unethical simply looks on…

 

“A well-timed reversal for Magnifico saves him the match.” Pete reports in a businessman-like tone. “But let’s not forget the fantastic effort put forth by Jimmy the Doom – “

 

“Actually, let’s do just that.” King interrupts. “Yeah, he got a few non-terrible moves off, but what matters is that Magnifico won and is still the lord and savior of the SWF. And in the end, isn’t that what’s really important?”

 

“Actually, no.” Pete counters.

 

“Spoil sport.” King grumbles.

 

LDP sighs. “We’ve had an amazing show here in Cedar Rapids, but I’m afraid we’re out of time! Good night, everyone! Tune into Storm!”

 

The final image broadcasted is that of El Luchadore Magnifico, his hands raised triumphantly and his body shaking with laughter…