SWF Lockdown 10-28-05

[chirs3 0]

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

SWF FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! LIVE, WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 26th, LIVE FROM THE FARGO DOME IN FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA!

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

 

*** Family Friendly Rules are in effect!

 

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THE MAIN EVENT

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Todd Cortez (non-title)

 

--> Magnifico has a bad habit of showing up during matches he's not supposed to show up during. We figure if we give him a high caliber opponent, he might be too preoccupied to muck up other people's matches, especially on a Family Friendly show.

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

 

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SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP - SUBMISSION MATCH

JJ Johnson © vs. Akira "The Divine Wind" Kaibatsu

 

--> Not to be outdone by Jay Hawke, JJ Johnson is also willing to defend his title against all comers. Tonight, he defends against the fast improving upstart, Akira Kaibatsu!

 

Rules: First man to score a submission victory wins.

 

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Wildchild vs. TORU Takahara

 

--> Why? Because it's going to be an awesome match, that's why!

 

Rules: Standard singles match, with Cruiserweight Addenda.

 

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"Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Manson

 

--> Spike Jenkins in a slump? Say it ain't so!

 

Well, I can't really do that.

 

Manson, on the other hand, scored a win over Haffy a few shows ago - the beginning of a turnaround? We'll see...

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

 

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Marcus Ward vs. ???????????

 

--> QUESTION MARK MAN! WHOOOOO-HOOOOO!

 

Is it a newbie? Is it a returning vet? Or is he something else entirely?!

 

QMM, you know who you are. Please send your stats to Ward ASAP! Double time!

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

 

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Opening Bout

Haffy vs. Bill Fillmaff

 

--> Haffy has won half of all SWF match he's ever had. Bill Flimflam has lost every single SWF match he's ever had. Tonight, both of these men fight to stave off the dreaded First Losing Streak!

 

I was tempted to put Fliffram against Candace, but this is Family Friendly - we can't really have violence against women, even if she would totally own him up down and sideways. That'll have to wait for Smarkdown, I suppose. tongue.gif

 

Rules: Standard singles match.

 

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Edited October 28, 2005 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

"Look, I'm sorry, okay." Landon Maddix sighs, as from across the Cucaracha International dressing room, the International Champion Jay Hawke continues to glare at him, arms still folded. "How was I to know they wouldn't carry the real belts with them? I mean, seriously. Who in their right mind steals the World Tag Team Titles and then wears plastic replicas when they're in public?"

 

"They don't." Hawke sighs. "Except when they're confronted with the world's most obvious heist attempt."

 

Trying to find an excuse or possibly an arguement to the negative, Maddix sighs and concedes. Instead, he just throws up his arms in defeat and sits down. Glancing over his shoulder, JJ Johnson notices Maddix looking decidedly glum and motions to Hawke accusingly. Causing Hawke to sigh.

 

"So what do we do now?"

 

"Well...we go to Plan B, obviously!" smiles Maddix, instantly perking up. Again, Hawke doesn't seem too convinced, but he plays along anyway just to keep his running buddy happy. "I've got it all figured out. See, TKO aren't going to wear the belts in public now. We know that. We've scared them...a little. So, instead of going after them in public, we need to be a little sneakier. A little more cunning. We need to really go for a heist...and I know just where! If the belts aren't with TKO, then I'm pretty sure the belts are going to be hidden somewhere in TKO's dressing room."

 

"My God, he's a genius." mumbles Hawke under his breath, so as not to be heard. Meanwhile, Maddix stands up, rubbing his hands with glee as he begins to get a feel for this scheming stuff.

 

"So, all we need to do is get TKO out and get in, find the belts and Voíla!, the belts are ours!"

 

Leaning over, JJ whispers something in Jay's ear.

 

"Hmm...you're right. Landon, they'll have already thought of that. There'll be a trap, or somebody waiting for us. We can't risk that. Look, the way I see it, we need to use damage limitation tactics. You guys could have walked right into a TKO trap last week. This week, it's almost a given. So, instead of one of us risking our asses to get the belts, we need to find someone to act as a decoy, to get the belts. Someone expendable. That way, if it backfires, we're not going to end up paying for it. So, we find someone dumb enough to play the decoy, then send him in first. We then get out before being castrated or whatever it is these Japanese types do to people stealing their pro..."

 

Maddix coughs, interrupting Jay.

 

"Sorry...people stealing OUR property."

 

"Thank you."

 

"And while our friend deals with TKO, you and me can go start the car. That way, JJ, you can worry about your match tonight in peace."

 

"Brilliant!" smiles Maddix. "Beats what I had planned."

 

"Which was?"

 

"Well, I was just gonna mess some stuff up. You know, spray paint on the walls, dead fish behind the radiator, pizzas outside the door. Carnie Pride and all that."

 

Hawke looks blankly at Maddix.

 

"Before your time." Maddix replies offhand. "So, this plan sounds good in theory...but there's one problem. Where are we going to find someone so dumb, so stupid and with so much misguided loyalty that they'll do this for us?"

 

"Oh, don't worry...I've got someone in mind..."

[chirs3 0]

WELCOOOOME TO LOCKDOOOOWN!!!!!!!! The fireworks go off and the crowd cheers for the start of the show, and attempts to get on camera!

 

King: "We're coming to you live from the Fargo Dome in Fargo North Dakota! Want proof we're live? Penis!"

 

Pete: "Charming....."

 

We have a huge show for everybody tonight and this is our opening bout! Bill Fillmaff's ridiculous entrance music begins to play.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Pete: "Oh great......"

 

Fillmaff struts cockily towards the ring, his goofy valet Steve always following a few steps behind him.

 

King: "I'm lovin' this guy! So arrogant, in a good way."

 

Ladies and gentlemen, this is our opening bout for the night, and it is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring, from Las Vegas, weighing in at 160 pounds, he's the worldwide poker champion, BILL FILLLLLLMAAAAAAAAAF!!!

 

Pete: "And the crowd is very unbecoming towards the young Fillmaff, who I must say I'm not a particular fan of."

 

King: "You're not a Fillmaff fan! Wouldn't say that to his face if I were you.... I mean he's the World Poker Champion, Pete, come on!"

 

The music of Haffy hits, The recognisable Mouth for War. The crowd gives a boo, but is at least happy that Fillmaff's entrance is over. Haffy emerges from the back, animated as always, and takes a look at Fillmaff and shakes his head. He proceeds to give the crowd the devil horns and jump around in an unruly fashion. He takes his Megadeth hat off and frisbee's it into the crowd.

 

King: "This'll be great, I don't know who to go for!"

 

HOLD YOUR MOUTH FOR THE WAR!!!

 

And his opponent, from Sydney, Australia, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAFFY!

 

Haffy slides into the ring, gives another stare to Fillmaff and then raises the devil horns again. He climbs the turnbuckle, takes his Cannibal Corpse shirt off and chucks it into the crowd.

 

King: "Some lucky ten year-old gets Haffy's shirt! I want that!"

 

Pete: "Certainly wouldn't have picked you as a Cannibal Corpse fan. Very suitable shirt for a ten year old i might add."

 

The music fades out and Haffy and Bill Fillmaff are in the centre of the ring. The official motions for the two to shake hands, and to the surprise of many, they oblige without any fuss. The two stand stationary for a few seconds before Haffy slaps Fillmaff across the face with an almighty blow.

 

OHH!

 

The arrogant and disliked Haffy gets almost a face reaction for his disrespect towards Filmaff.

 

Filmaff grabs his face and looks disgustedly back at Haffy, the average sized brawler almost dwarfing the poker champ.

 

Fillmaff charges at Haffy and the two lock it up in a collar-and-elbow tie up in the centre. Fillmaff is pushed back into the corner and is clearly overwhelmed by the strength of Haffy. The ref admonishes Haffy telling him to get Fillmaff out of the corner, and begins his five count. Haffy pulls away at three and a half but then delivers an elbow to the gut of Fillmaff.

 

"Son of a bitch!" Haffy is clearly heard from the close-up camera.

 

Haffy whips Fillmaff to the opposite corner and follows him, delivering a clothesline. He picks Fillmaff up and drags him out of the corner. He again whips Fillmaff, this time to the ropes. Filmaff bounces off, and Haffy bends down and delivers a back body drop. Fillmaff clutches at his back.

 

Pete: "And Haffy is in firm control of this one in the early exchanges."

 

King: "But Fillmaff will not be held down! Don't count him out..."

 

Haffy drags Fillmaff to his feet and the two lock it up collar and elbow style again, this time Fillmaff showing a bit more resistance. He is still moving backwards at a steady rate, and is eventually pushed away by the young Aussie, again highlighting his strength advantage. Fillmaff charges at Haffy, but is raised into the air for a Flapjack!

 

CRASH!!

 

Fillmaff is downed on the mat!

 

Haffy begins with a chinlock to the downed poker champion.

 

The Fillmaff sucks chant starts going through the crowd.

 

 

FILLMAFF SUCKS! FILLMAFF SUCKS!

 

 

Haffy continues with the chinlock for ten seconds or so, before beginning gouge the eyes of Fillmaff.

 

The ref must put a stop to this! "Hey! One! Two! Three...." Haffy breaks the hold at three and the referee begins to admonish him. The ref's focus quickly shifts to Steve the Helper, who has made his way to the apron. The ref repeatedly tells Steve to get back to the outside. While this is happening, Bill Fillmaff makes his way to his feet and delivers a thumb to the eye of Haffy.

 

King: "Now that could really shift the momentum in Fillmaff's direction."

 

Seeing Fillmaff has capitalised on the distraction, Steve retreats to the floor. Fillmaff brings Haffy to his feet and delivers a suplex. As Haffy is on the ground, Fillmaff delivers an elbow. He goes for the early cover!!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kicks out at one!

 

Fillmaff again drags Haffy to his feet, and delivers a right hand, which is met by a right hand by Haffy, which is met by a right hand by Fillmaff, right hand by Haffy! Back and forth! After about three or four right hands each, Haffy pauses for a moment, and then delivers the biggest punch to the temple you'll ever see, and knocks Fillmaff right off his feet and out of the ring!!!

 

 

OHHHHH!

 

 

The move is met by a wincing groan from the crowd. Haffy is visibly eager to get out and beat the hell out of Fillmaff on the outside, but the official is insistent on the fight staying between the ropes.

 

King: "Dam family friendly rules."

 

Fillmaff takes his sweet time to regroup and get back in the ring, waiting until Haffy is way over the other side. Fillmaff slides in, and the two give another long, hard stare. The two take some time to compose themselves, and the official motions for them to lock it up, and we have another collar and elbow tie up, and again a show of Haffy's superior strength, Fillmaff being pushed into the corner. The tie up is broken in the corner and Haffy erupts with a barrage of lefts and rights, Undertaker style! He then delivers a swift kick to the left knee of Fillmaff. He picks Fillmaff up and delivers a forearm uppercut, and then another! Fillmaff is on the ground clutching at his head. Haffy goes for the cover!!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

King: "Could be it!!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Kicks out at two and a half...

 

 

Haffy picks Fillmaff up and whips him to the ropes. Haffy delivers a shoulder block to Fillmaff! Haffy goes and bounces off the ropes, and jumps over a dodging Fillmaff, who charges in the opposite direction and bounces off the ropes. When the two meet again in the middle of the ring, Haffy grabs Fillmaff around the neck and begins with the sleeper hold.

 

Pete: "Fillmaff's head has taken enough of a beating already, he might fade out to this hold!"

 

Haffy has the sleeper locked in tight now. Filmaff's movements of the arms are completely stopped. His eyes have closed, and he is now down to one knee. "Drop his hand!!!!" Haffy yells at the referee. The referee raises Fillmaff's hand...

 

 

The hand drops. One!

 

The hand is raised and dropped again. Two!!

 

Fillmaff's hand is raised for a third time, but is kept in the air, keeping the poker champ in the match. Fillmaff rises to his feet and delivers two swift elbows to the gut of Haffy. He delivers a right hand and darts back into the ropes, only to be met with a massive clothesline on the way back. Haffy arrogantly raises the devil horns into the air, and he is met by a chorus of boos.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Pete: "The crowd not appreciating Haffy's arrogance, and neither am I to tell you the truth."

 

Haffy drags Fillmaff to his feet and delivers a snap suplex. Goes for the cover!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Just kicked out in the nick of time. Haffy is showing frustration, and goes for another cover!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Kicks out again.

 

 

HAFFY-SUX! HAFFY-SUX!

The Haffy sux chant booms out around the crowd.

 

Steve the Helper decides to distract the ref again, and comes to the apron. The official points to the outside and is getting fed up with the antics of Fillmaff's "Helper."

 

With the ref's back turned, Haffy delivers a low blow to Fillmaff! Poker boy's cheating tactics have backfired on him!!!

 

King: "And that could literally be the knockout blow!"

 

Fillmaff is on the ground and Haffy goes for the cover!!!

 

King: "Surely that'll do it!"

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Pete: "The kid's got some fight in him!"

 

"Dammit!" Haffy yells in frustration. Without wasting a second, Haffy drags Fillmaff to his feet, leaves his dazed opponent and bounces off the ropes and delivers a bulldog to the unsuspecting Fillmaff, who gets up straight away in a daze but is met by a bone-crunching spinebuster!! Instead of going for a cover, Haffy exits through the ropes and goes to the top turnbuckle.

 

Pete: "Well this is a bit different from Haffy!"

 

Haffy climbs the top rope, and gets some cheap heat by devil-horning the crowd, again to an explosion of boos. Haffy then launches himself at the downed Fillmaff with a Guillotine Leg Drop!!! But Fillmaff rolls out of the way!

 

King: "Haffy the high flier, my ass."

 

Fillmaff, sensing that this may be his last opportunity to gain some serious momentum, decides to lock in a camel clutch on Haffy. He pisitions himself, and has the clutch locked in.

 

Pete: "It ain't over yet!"

 

Haffy is wincing in pain as the official asks him if he wants to give up - a resounding "NO!" Steve the Helper, on the outside, hits the mat continuously, attempting to rev up the crowd. The Fillmaff sucks chant begins.

 

FILL-MAFF SUCKS! FILL-MAFF SUCKS!

 

Fillmaff has the camel clutch locked in well, and the crowd start making some serious noise. "Cmon Haffy, what do you say!?!?" Fillmaff yells at his adversary.The ref asks the same question, but Haffy is determined and persists without giving up. The camel clutch doesn't seem to have any major effect on Haffy, so Fillmaff breaks the hold. While Haffy slowly gets to his feet, Fillmaff climbs the turnbuckle.When Haffy is at his feet and seemingly vulnerable, Fillmaff attempts a flying lariat off the top rope! He's flying through the air and camera flashes go off everywhere, but Haffy darts out of the way! When Fillmaff turns around, he is greeted by a clothesline from hell!

 

King: "It's as if a bus has hit him!"

 

That clothesline has sure knocked the wind out of the poker champion, who is on the ground motionless. Haffy goes for the cover!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Kicks out just after two. Haffy picks up Fillmaff and whips him to the corner. Haffy goes for a clothesline, but Fillmaff rolls out of the way! Haffy is down on the mat, and Fillmaff appears to be climbing the turnbuckle. The ref motions for Fillmaff to come back betwen the ropes but the call goes unnoticed.

 

King: "This could be the end for Haffy!"

 

But just as quickly as he was down, Haffy gets to his feet, and ascends the turnbuckle! He is in position for a sky high superplex. But he's given him the Haffy Hammer!!! And the cover!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!

 

Pete: "Good lord, what will Haffy have to do to keep his opponent down?"

 

Haffy looks back at the referee with a look of disbeleif, and hits the mat several times in anger. Haffy and Fillmaff take their time getting to their feet, as the crowd starts making some noise.

 

The referee starts the count-out for the men to get to their feet. One!

 

King: "I don't know who to cheer, but these idiots don't know who to boo!"

 

Two!

 

Three!

 

Both men reach a vertical base, and Haffy delivers a right hand. Fillmaff responds with one of his own, then Haffy, then Fillmaff, in a great exchange of shots to the head. Then Haffy out of nowhere hits Fillmaff with a knife edge chop to the chest!

 

 

 

WOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

The crowd loves it! You could see the sweat fly off Bill Fillmaff's chest there. Fillmaff is dazed for a short while, and Haffy goes to the second rope. He gives the devil horns before flying off the second rope in a flying cross body to a standing Bill Fillmaff.

 

THUD!

 

The mass of bodies hits the mat with force, and in one motion, Haffy goes for the pin!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

Fillmaff has turned it over into a roll-up pin on Haffy!!!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!! Ooh that could've been a slow count!

 

King: "C'mon ref!"

 

The two depleted athletes slowly get up. Once they are both back on their feet, Haffy throws a right hand, but it's ducked by Fillmaff! Haffy turns around, and runs into a thumb to the eye! Fillmaff gives a suplex to Haffy, and immediately mounts him and starts throwing some hands!

 

"Hey! One! Two! Three! Four!...." Haffy flips it over and twists around into a body scissors! Haffy has the body scissors locked in and Fillmaff cries in pain and attempts to get to the ropes!

 

Pete: "The rookie Haffy is a brawler at heart but shows a surprising amount of technical ability, especially for someone of his very limited top-level experience."

 

King: "He's impressed me in this, just his third match in the SWF."

 

Haffy continues with the body scissors, and the referee notices that Fillmaff's shoulders are pinned!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

Kicks out.

 

Haffy still with the body scissors, and Fillmaff is appearing to fade. Haffy leans back to gain some leverage, but inadvertenly pins himself!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

Kicks out, breaking the body scissors. Haffy hits the mat as he gets up.

 

Pete: "We're seeing a bit of frustration out of the young Haffy, he needs to keep his composure!"

 

With Fillmaff still getting to his feet, Haffy notices that again Steve the Helper has made his way to the apron. This time, incredibly pissed off at the antics of his opponent, instead of telling him to go away, Haffy brings Steve into the ring and starts dishing some punishment out!! Rights and lefts are flying all over the place! But Fillmaff has caught Haffy unaware, and grabs him from behind between the legs and rolls him up for a cradle pin!!

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kicks out! So close!

 

King: "This live crowd hates both these athletes but can't help but be entertained by this contest."

 

Fillmaff gets to his feet, and Haffy soon after, and Fillmaff is going for the BAD BEAT! But Haffy has dodged it!

 

Haffy capitalizes and lowers Fillmaff's head!

 

Pete: "Could be the Iron Maiden!"

 

Haffy locks in the arm, and gives the devil horns above his head!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

CRASH!

 

Haffy sits down and with great force delivers his dreaded finishing manoeuvre!!! The crowd is booing mercilessly for the Aussie brawler.

 

Haffy turns him over for the pin!

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

"The winner of this contest, HAAAAAAAAAAAFFY!" Funyon booms over the PA.

 

King: "Deserved winner, he has impressed me in this one!"

 

Haffy quickly rolls out of the ring, and as he is walking back to the backstage area, he looks back at Fillmaff, who struggles a look back at Haffy, and Haffy gives Fillmaff the finger with a dastardly smile across his face, and then gives him the devil horns one last time.

 

The final shot is of Haffy walking backstage looking all too impressed with himself.

[chirs3 0]

“First of all, I’d like to thank you on behalf of all Cucaracha Internacional for meeting us like this.”

 

The speaker is Landon Maddix.

 

“I know you haven’t always been fully appreciated here, but you still put in excellent service both in the ring and outside it,” La Cucaracha continues in solemn tones. “I know it must be frustrating for you to see others with less talent than you competing in the ring when you can’t, am I right? I mean, you had all the talent to make it to the very pinnacle of this sport, but sometimes we all need a little help from our friends. And as of right now, I’d like you to consider all of Cucaracha Internacional as your friends.”

 

The figure seated opposite Landon Maddix, Jay Hawke and JJ Johnson nods, apparently interested in what La Cucaracha has to say.

 

“This time you won’t be held down,” Maddix says earnestly, “this time you will break through the glass ceiling, and you will do it because you will be a part of the greatest stable in the history of the SWF; Cucaracha Internacional. All we ask from you is just one simple task first.”

 

Maddix leans forward very slightly and clears his throat, then begins speaking again.

 

“I’m sure you know of TKO, and how they stole the Tag Titles that are rightfully ours?” he begins, and is rewarded with another nod. “Well, of course those belts mean a lot to Jay Hawke and myself, and we’d love to get them back. Hell,” La Cucaracha laughs with a hint of bitterness, “we haven’t even had our hands on them since we won them! I know you know what it’s like to be frustrated,” he continues, “and I know you’ll help us end this frustration by getting them back. Am I right?”

 

Another nod, and now Landon senses the time is right to go in for the kill. He offers his hand.

 

“Well, what do you say… David?”

 

“Gee guys, this is real great of you!” David Blazenwing blurts out, reaching out and grabbing Maddix’s hand before pumping it hard. “You have no idea what it’s like to sit out there ringing that bell while you guys all do your stuff in the ring! Honestly, this is great-”

 

“David?”

 

“-I’m really glad to have you guys on my side-”

 

“David?”

 

“-and my mom’s gonna be so proud that I’m back in the ring-”

 

“DAVID!”

 

“Wha?” Blazenwing yelps, suddenly freezing. Landon smiles at him, then uses his other hand to unfold Blazenwing’s clenched fingers before withdrawing his well-shaken hand. David Blazenwing grins nervously, then pops up to his feet. “Hey, I’d better be going, right?” he asks. “Don’t worry, I know what to do. Got it all in here,” he taps his head, “and believe me, we’ll get those TKO guys, no problem! And after that, bang! Cucaracha Internacional will be unstoppable!”

 

Cucaracha Internacional watch the SWF’s timekeeper exit their dressing room, closing the door behind him. For a few moments no-one moves. Then a small tic appears on Landon Maddix’s face. Moments later a small hiss escapes from the lips of JJ Johnson, and it is followed in a couple of seconds by sniggering from Jay Hawke. Suddenly, all three men are rolling on the floor and clutching their sides.

 

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!” Landon roars, beating the floor with his fists. “He bought it! He totally, totally bought it! Jesus, what a gullible moron! Jay, you're a genius!”

 

“And you,” Hawke sniggers, pointing a quivering finger at Landon, “you are a goddamn actor! You deserve a damn Oscar for that!”

 

JJ Johnson isn’t making much more noise that a rasping hiss, but he struggles up to one elbow and leans forward to whisper into Landon’s ear.

 

“What?” Maddix asks, still giggling. “Christ no; for the last time, we need him conscious for this!” Abruptly the leader of Cucaracha Internacional pushes himself up to his feet. “OK, we all know the plan, right? Blazenwing goes in and distracts them, we sneak in and get the belts and leave him to get beaten to a pulp, got it?”

 

“I love it when a plan comes together,” Hawke responds, as behind him JJ Johnson puffs on an imaginary cigar.

 

“Hold up on that one,” Landon warns, “there’s still a possibility that our new best friend will mess things up. I hear he's quite the tool. So stay sharp, and get ready to move.”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

Lockdown continues, the crowd abuzz following Haffy and World Poker Champion Bill Fillmaff’s opening encounter. Their good mood is quickly dampened however as Nas’s “Mastermind” fills the air, signalling the impending arrival of Marcus Ward.

 

LDP: “Welcome back fans, as you can hear Marcus Ward is on his way to the ring, about to take on perennial SWF’er the Question Mark Man.”

 

King: “Whoever he is he better be mighty impressive if he’s to stand a chance against one-half of the Nightmare Express.”

 

“A mastermind - everything planned out perfect, in case y'all niggaz got to get murdered.”

 

That line triggers mass jeers from the sold-out Fargo crowd as Ward steps into the spotlight, gold-sequinned cloak trailing behind as The Mastermind walks down the ramp, the cocky smirk as always painted on as Funyon begins the introductions.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is set for ONE FALL! Weighing in at 249lbs and hailing from Bavaria, one half of the NIGHTMARE EXPRESS, this is “THE MASTERMIND”, MARCUS WARD!!!”

 

Ward steps into the ring, not showing any signs to worry about being unable to prepare for his mystery opponent. The crowd meanwhile quietens their hostility to the man in the ring, looking back at the entryway in anticipation of the identity of Ward’s opposition. Those fans intently staring at the entranceway are rewarded with temporary blindness as a HUGE wall of pyrotechnics envelops the stage, before Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill A Man” kicks into action, the crowd quickly cheering as SWF veteran Stryke makes his return to an SWF arena!

 

Funyon: “Weighing in at 232lbs from Sydney, Australia, making his return to the SWF this is STRYKE!!!”

 

King: “Stryke??? Worst Question Mark Man ever.”

 

LDP: “I somewhat doubt that, I’ve fought Stryke numerous times over the years so I can tell you first hand Stryke is as talented in the ring as anyone. Former ICTV Champ, US Champ, two-time Hardcore Champ, hell the last time we saw him he was in the final three of the most gruelling match the SWF has to offer, the Clusterfu- that big Battle Royal thing we do every year, can’t say the name since this show is family-friendly but you know what I mean.”

 

King: “Please, you just have to say that because he beat you so many times and it’d make you look back to admit the truth – he sucks and has choked away more opportunities in his career than most men ever get. Though at least he looks to have gotten some real ring gear, only took about four years but better late than never.”

 

LDP: “We’ll certainly see, as Stryke has quite the challenge on his hands with Marcus Ward tonight.”

 

The fans in Fargo welcome Stryke back as he slides into the ring, while Marcus looks rather unimpressed with the man standing across the ring from him, his mind working overtime to make up for the lack of scouting, eyeing Stryke up and down and planning his course of action for the match.

 

King: “Stryke makes return #25143 with about nine months worth of ring rust on him, combine that with an opponent the calibre of Ward and after tonight he’ll be well on his way to failure #25143.”

 

LDP: “Stryke’s never had much trouble with ring rust in the past though, in past returns from time off he won the US Title in a Steel Cage in his first match back, and the year before that won a marathon 5-way on PPV and beat Danny Williams for the ICTV belt in his first two matches back.”

 

King: “Look, I’ve had just about enough of you and your ‘facts’. I won’t say anything else on the matter, I’m certain Marcus Ward will prove me right.”

 

DING DING DING!

 

A cheer goes up as the bell rings, both men coming together in the middle of the ring and locking up. It doesn’t take very long for Ward to exert his physical dominance, forcing Stryke back into the turnbuckles with relative ease, referee Matthew Kivell calling for the clean break. Ward slowly backs off, looking as though he’ll grant the clean break, before rushing forward and launching a Forearm directly at Stryke’s face! The fans in attendance immediately get on Ward’s case for his less-than-honorable tactics, and are soon cheering at The Mastermind’s expense as Stryke dodges the blow and lays in a forearm of his own! The tables are turned as Stryke pounds Ward against the turnbuckles, a second Forearm blow stunning Ward before Stryke lashes his chest with a hard Knife-Edge Chop!

 

“WOOOOO!!!”

 

Ward recoils from the blow, Stryke taking the opportunity to latch onto Ward’s arm and Irish whip him across the ring. Ward has other ideas though as he holds on, the stronger man reversing the momentum and sending Stryke across the ring to the far turnbuckles instead. Ward charges, arm raised as he looks to take Stryke’s head off his shoulders with a running Forearm, but just before impact Stryke gets his feet up into Ward’s face. The Mastermind is knocked back, nursing his jaw slightly, but as Stryke moves forward Ward looks to recover, driving a hard knee towards Stryke’s midsection. But once again Stryke is a step ahead, diving over Ward’s outstretched leg and pulling Ward down in a schoolboy for the first pinfall attempt of the match!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THR… NO, Ward forcefully kicks out. Both men are up quickly, but it’s Stryke on his feet a second earlier allowing him to set his feet and PASTE Ward with a European Uppercut, the sound of flesh-on-flesh echoing around the arena. Another hard European Uppercut draws further applause from the crowd, but Marcus isn’t about to let himself get beaten around, dodging a third Uppercut and shoving Stryke away into the ropes, the impact of the strikes doing little more than frustrate The Mastermind. Stryke rebounds back and Ward lowers his head in position to backdrop his Australian opponent, but once again Stryke is a step ahead, vaulting over and pinning Marcus Ward’s shoulders to the canvas with a Sunset Flip!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THRE… NOO, with his tremendous lower body strength Ward kicks out with ease.

 

LDP: “Stryke looks as though he hasn’t lost a step so far, using his speed advantage to avoid everything Ward has tried and get two nearfalls already.”

 

King: “Two nearfalls that didn’t come close to getting the three. Stryke isn’t exactly Wildchild, sooner or later Marcus is going to catch him, and that’s when the REAL fun begins.”

 

Stryke swiftly rolls back to his feet, the crowd increasing in volume as Stryke hits the ropes and charges at the slowly rising Mastermind for another attack, but the good feeling of the fans is quickly crushed this time, Stryke chancing his arm one to many times as Ward catches him mid-run, lifting him up and DRIVING him down across his knee with a Backbreaker! Ward doesn’t let go though, and in an impressive show of strength lifts Stryke up and executes a second savage Backbreaker! The crowd boo heavily as they know what comes next, which only serves to draw a smirk from Ward as he powers Stryke up once more, holding him for a second before FOLDING HIM IN HALF with the hardest Backbreaker he can muster, leaving Stryke squirming in pain on the canvas.

 

King: “What did I tell you, just a matter of time. Now we’ll really see what Stryke has to offer, after a trifecta of blows like that he isn’t going to be able to play duck-and-weave any longer.”

 

Ward stretches his knee out as he leans down and drags Stryke up by the back of his head, and if Stryke wasn’t hurting before he is now as Ward runs towards the ropes and HURLS Stryke over the top, the Australian landing in a crumpled heap on the floor! Meanwhile Ward extends his arms to the very unwelcoming Fargo crowd, his posturing only serving to draw more hatred for the self-declared Mastermind.

 

The mats covering the concrete floor did little to absorb the impact of Stryke’s fall, crawling to his knees with pain etched on his face, but Marcus Ward isn’t giving him a moment to rest, quickly out to the floor himself and pulling Stryke up, the Australian on his feet just long enough to be sent flying back-first into the Guardrail! Stryke collapses as his spine is turned into jello, Ward slowly stalking over to him before dragging his carcass to the apron and shoving him into the ring, calmly sliding in himself and covering for the pin.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THREE… NOOO! Stryke gets a shoulder up, though Ward unsurprisingly disagrees.

 

LDP: “Marcus Ward looks to have painted a bullseye on Stryke’s back, a trifecta of backbreakers and the unforgiving barricade doing Stryke no favors. Ward always likes to be in control, and while it’s still early right now he certainly is.”

 

Before Stryke can think of regaining his composure Ward has dragged him up and tossed him into the nearest turnbuckle, before SLAPPING the taste right out of his mouth! The audience boo their lungs out, but Ward just feeds off his as he delivers a barrage of strikes, stiff forearm to the jaw, elbow to the chin that rocks Stryke back and finishing the job with another hard forearm across the bridge of the nose, perspiration flying after each shot as Stryke slumps into the corner, breathing heavily and wincing in obvious pain.

 

King: “Stryke avoided Ward’s attempts to beat him down in the corner earlier in the match but it’s payback time now, with the power behind each of those blows Stryke better pull a rabbit out of his hat soon or this will be over quick.”

 

The Mastermind steps back and admired his work, before winding his arm up and preparing for the knockout blow. The crowd doesn’t appreciate Ward’s grandstanding, but Marcus is the one that pays for it as he charges in with a running forearm only to get BLASTED with a Jumping Enziguri to the side of his skull! Ward is clearly stunned by the quickfire blow, but surprise quickly turns to anger as Ward shakes out the cobwebs, however by the time he stands Stryke is also up and on the 2nd turnbuckle, leaping off and snapping Ward over with a Hurricanrana, holding on for the pin!

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE… NNOOOO!! Wards rolls his shoulders, but as he does Stryke instantly turns as well, latching on a front facelock and keep Ward grounded.

 

LDP: “Ward’s cockiness and time wasting nearly cost him dearly there, despite Marcus dominating the last few minutes Stryke is the type of opponent you can’t let up on for a second, a lesson I’m sure Ward learnt after that Hurricanrana.”

 

Stryke squeezes tightly on the facelock, bringing Ward up as he does so, but it’s not tight enough to keep Ward from driving Stryke backwards and DRIVING him into the turnbuckles, Stryke’s hurting back eating all the impact and immediately causing him to release the hold on Ward’s neck. Determined not to make another mistake Ward takes Stryke by the arm and moves to whip him across the ring, but instead holds on and sends the Australian stomach-first into the same turnbuckles, instantly following up by lowering his head and driving a forceful shoulder-thrust into the small of Stryke’s back. Pain shoots throughout Stryke’s body as each shoulder-thrust hits its target, Stryke slowly staggering backwards as Ward lets up just long enough to SNAP Stryke over with a hard Powerslam, hooking the far leg in a textbook pinfall cover.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEE… NNNOOOOO!!! Stryke twists an arm into the air with precious little time before Kivell’s hand connects the mat a third time.

 

Ward brings Stryke to a standing base in a headlock, cutting off his air and making it very difficult for Stryke to catch his breath, and the problems keep compounding for Stryke as Ward sends him into the ropes, catching him on the rebound and spinning him into a Tilt-a-Whirl Backbreaker! Stryke arches in agony as he’s dropped to the canvas, Ward again quickly hooking the leg for a cover.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEE… NNNNOOOOOOO!!! A big cheer resonates around the Fargo Dome as Stryke finds the strength to keep fighting, the frustration becoming more and more evident on Ward’s face of Stryke kicks out with milliseconds to spare!

 

LDP: “Stryke has always been a very resilient competitor, and judging from this match that hasn’t changed in his time out of the SWF rings.”

 

King: “Resilience only goes so far, though. Aside from a quick start and a lucky Hurricanrana this match has been ALL Marcus Ward. If Stryke is to have a chance he needs to get a strong run of offence, and so far The Mastermind hasn’t let him get more than one or two shots in at a time. That’s a recipe for defeat against anyone, against a wrestler the calibre of Marcus Ward it’s certain doom.”

 

Ward starts to get in Referee Kivell’s face, making his thoughts on the speed of the count known as jeers rain down on the Mastermind. Seeing Stryke slowly up to his knees Ward bring him up the rest of the way before again sending him into the ropes, keen to finish him off this time as Ward picks Stryke up on the way back in a second Tilt-a-Whirl. Stryke rotates around but in mid-move Stryke grabs onto Ward’s arm, using his momentum against The Mastermind as he brings Ward over in a desperation Arm Drag! Ward rolls through to his feet largely unaffected, but what does affect him in the picture-perfect Dropkick Stryke fires off next! Ward is knocked backwards, the ring ropes keeping him upright as Stryke runs to the opposite ropes. Despite being slowed by the damage he’s taken Stryke hits the ropes and springs back, ducking underneath a Marcus Ward clothesline and jumping onto the opposite middle rope, springing back and as Ward turns he’s taken down with a Springboard Dropkick! The crowd are on their feet as Stryke goes for the pin!

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREEE… NNNOOOOO!!! Wards kicks out at two-and-a-half, but the crowd is right back in the match now, the veteran showing signs of life yet!

 

King: “Well, Stryke doesn’t seem to be going down without a fight, but notice on those dropkicks, Stryke turned his body to land on his stomach each time. A smart move by Stryke to avoid landing back first on the canvas, but at the same time he might as well paint a bullseye on his back, his back is clearly bothering him and one big move from Marcus Ward aimed at Stryke’s spine and the Mastermind will be in full control of the match once again.”

 

Just like he did that last time he scored a near fall Stryke grabs Ward in a front facelock as he brings him to his feet, and this time ensures Ward won’t be pushing him anywhere as he reaches forward and hooks Ward’s right leg. The crowd cheer as they see Ward in position for a Fisherman’s Suplex, but instead of risking his back trying to left his heavier opponent up and over Stryke takes a different route, snapping to the side with a Fisherman’s Neckbreaker! Ward’s head and shoulders greet the canvas hard as a result of the neckbreaker variation, the crowd counting along as Stryke drapes himself over Ward for the cover!

 

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEE… NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!! Ward rolls his shoulders off the mat, the Nightmare Express member showing just as much resilience of his Australian opponent. Knowing this is the best opportunity he’s had all match Stryke puts all thoughts of pain and fatigue out of his mind as he climbs to his feet, moving to the ropes and stepping out to the apron before starting to scale the turnbuckles!

 

LDP: “While Stryke has come back looking like he’s added a few pounds of muscle he’s never been afraid to go to the top rope and take risks, and I’m sure nothing is different this time.”

 

Stryke positions himself on the top turnbuckle, the crowd on their feet in anticipation as he wais for Marcus Ward to stand. Ward gets to his feet holding his neck slightly, and turns around to see Stryke flying right at him with a Frogsplash Crossbody! Stryke makes impact, but unfortunately for him Ward only budges a few steps, The Mastermind catching him in mid-flight! And worse still for Stryke, Ward keeps hold with a Bearhug crunching and wrenching away on Stryke’s back!

 

King: “This is why they call them ‘High-Risk’ moves, Stryke took a chance that could have paid off big but instead it’s put him in great peril! I can’t see Stryke breaking the powerful grip of Marcus Ward, I think this is the beginning of the end right here.”

 

Ward puts all the pressure he can muster into the Bearhug, locking his arms as tightly as he can and shaking him back and forth. Every twist and squeeze is agony for the Australian, but with the crowd doing their best to rally behind him Stryke slides his arms underneath Ward’s, drawing all the energy he has left in his body and trying to pry the hold open! Marcus Ward has other ideas however, powering Stryke up and looking to slam him down with a crushing Belly-to-Belly Suplex! At the apex of Ward’s lift Stryke makes one final attempt to save himself, getting his arm around Ward’s head and DRILLING Marcus Ward’s head directly into the mat with a miracle Tornado DDT!!

 

LDP: “What a counter by Stryke! It looks like Stryke has scouted The Mastermind well, Stryke needs to take advantage of this situation immediately, he may not have a better chance to score a comeback win than right now!”

 

The crowd are up as one for the Australian, and seeing Ward out after the Tornado DDT Stryke pushes himself up in spite of his tired and pain-wracked body, standing and half-running/half-staggering into the nearest turnbuckle, and again undertaking the trip to the top rope! Stryke reaches the top, and seeing Ward starting to stir Stryke throws all caution to the wind, cameras flashing in the background as Stryke dives towards his downed opponent, SLAMMING down with all his bodyweight atop Ward with a Top Rope Frogsplash!!!

 

LDP: “Stryke hits the All Time High!! A move we haven’t seen in a long time, is it enough to get Stryke the victory?!?!”

 

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

DING DING DING!

 

The crowd erupts as Referee Kivell’s hand slaps the mat a decisive third time, Marcus Ward kicking out a fraction too late!

 

Funyon: “The winner of this match via pinfall, STRYKE!!”

 

LDP: “Stryke did it! His first SWF match in nine months and Stryke celebrates his return in the best fashion possible.”

 

King: “Bah, Stryke may have scored the pin, but this was hardly a fair match. Marcus Ward goes into the match blind with no chance to prepare while Stryke gets god knows how much time to scout his opponent in advance. Have this match again on an even playing field, and I GUARENTEE you there’ll be a very different outcome. Stryke got lucky, plain and simple.”

 

LDP: “Whether that is true or not, the record books will show Stryke as the victor tonight. Stay with us fans, because we’ve still got four big matches coming your way tonight on Family-Friendly Lockdown! With the #1 Contender to the Heavyweight Title vs. MANSONOSITY~! up next, you know you don’t want to go anywhere.”

[chirs3 0]

*knock-knock*

 

“Come in,” Chris Card calls, turning towards the door of the TKO dressing room. It cracks open slightly to reveal the face of the SWF’s timekeeper, David Blazenwing.

 

“Uh, hi,” he begins, then stops and swallows.

 

“What?” Card asks impatiently, then breaks off and looks around as TORU Takahara says something in Japanese.

 

“Um, what did he say?” Blazenwing asks.

 

“He wanted to know if you’re feeling OK,” Card responds, then grins. “Well, actually he said you look like shit. Or maybe you look like a piece of shit,” Technical Perfection shrugs, “Japanese is so hard to translate word-for-word. What did you want, again?”

 

“Uhh, Joseph Peters wants to see you,” Blazenwing says uncertainly, then rallies. “Yeah, he definitely wants to see you.”

 

“Just me?”

 

“No, all of you,” Blazenwing replies with a shake of the head. “Even Natasha. He was really… specific about that.”

 

“Yeah, go figure,” the Goth Bitch snorts from the corner. “Goddamn Eminem-lookalike probably just wants to leer at my cleavage while arguing about the boys’ pay. C’mon Chris, let’s do this and get it over with.”

 

“OK, you heard the lady,” Card says to TORU and KOJI, then switches into Japanese. TKO hold a brief conversation with their manager, then simultaneously spit as a symbol of their feelings for Mr. Peters. However, they shrug themselves into their vinyl trenchcoats before following Card and Natasha to the door. David Blazenwing steps back to allow them through, but Card turns and eyeballs him as he locks the door behind him.

 

“You still here?” the British ex-pat demands. “Run along now, before Natasha decides to have a little fun!” Without waiting to see if his demand is followed Card turns on his heel and stalks off after the receding figures of the Ice Queen and TKO, leaving Blazenwing staring at the door…

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

The transmission feed takes us back to Lockdown, where thousands of fans wait for the next match after the brief intermission.

 

"Welcome back to SWF Family-Friendly Lockdown, coming to you from Fargo, North Dakota! Up next, two wrestlers very familiar with each other clash, as Manson takes on #1 World Heavyweight Title Contender Spike Jenkins!"

 

"Their occasional rivalry dates back to the old SJL, with their last meeting coming while Spike was still cool as a member of Revolution Zero, but let me tell you, he's not looking like much lately, especially not a title contender. At least Manson has picked up a recent win and looks to be getting back into a groove."

 

"In fact, it was in a Cruiserweight Championship bid when Manson last met Spike, with Jenkins emerging victorious. So I wouldn't count him out, even against a fired up Manson."

 

"That was ages ago, Manson has even put on twenty or so pounds since, and is coming into this one with a big size advantage. He's a completely different wrestler from when they last met."

 

Suddenly, every light in the arena ramps up to full power, hitting a blinding white, along with the SmarkTron. For a moment the only sound heard is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... and then…

 

 

*BAM*

 

 

The crashing guitars of "Black Label" by Lamb of God sends an electrifying jolt through the crowd. The pounding of the drums blasts throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro picks up. Finally…

 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

As the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway, the high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers. Once the scream hits, Spike walks out with a black hoodie, the hood covering most of his face. He drops down to one knee, leaving one arm hanging to the ground, with the other firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both his arms into an X, symbolizing the Straight Edge life style to the cheers of the crowd. He then rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the aisle.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Funyon booms, "the following contest is a singles match scheduled for one fall! First, making his way down to the ring, hailing from Hollywood, California, and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty pounds… 'HOLLYWOOD' SPIIIIKE JENNNNNNKINS!"

 

Jenkins makes his way completely around ringside, occasionally slapping hands with fans and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits the middle of the ring. From there, he rises to one knee and pushes himself up off the ground. He peels off his hood, releasing his blonde hair and puts his arms together, forming an X across his chest, again promoting Straight Edge. As he takes off his ring jacket, 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.

 

"And his opponent, hailing from Denver, Colorado, and weighing in at two-hundred and fifty two pounds… MMMAAANNNNSOONNN!" Funyon announces, before exiting the ring.

 

Manson heads down the ramp at a brisk pace, looking all around the arena, then rolls inside opposite of Jenkins. He pops up to his feet and after giving Manson a moment, Matt Kivell calls he and Spike to the center of the ring, but Manson ignores it and goes right after Jenkins, looking to get off to a quick start!

 

*DING DING!*

 

The bell rings and Spike goes down after a barrage of fists, causing Kivell to step between the two and pull Manson away, warning Manson about the lack of sportsmanship. He sidesteps Kivell and with Spike on his knees, Manson grabs him by the arm and forcibly shakes his hand, giving a sly look to Kivell afterwards. But as he looks away, Jenkins jumps up to his feet and retaliates with an assault of his own.

 

"That's gonna be a fine for Manson, but it looks like it didn't do much good, as Spike fights back!"

 

Manson goes back a few steps and Jenkins strikes him with a kick to the side of the right knee. He follows up with a kick to the ribs on the left side, then hits a number of inside forearms to the face. His opponent staggered, Spike goes high up with a roundhouse, knocking Manson down to the mat! He rolls backward up to his feet and Jenkins clutches him by the wrist, attempting to whip him across the ring to the right side ropes, but Manson holds his ground and easily reverses. Spike goes hurtling into the ropes and bounces off toward Manson, who goes for a lariat, but Jenkins rolls under it. Jenkins gets to his feet and Manson turns, only to get caught with a dropkick!

 

"Spike is just outclassing Manson with his speed right now."

 

"Well, just wait until he catches Spike and is able to throw him around the ring," King retorts.

 

Manson quickly stands and stumbles into the upper right corner, and Jenkins follows and grabs him by the hand, succeeding this time in sending him off with the whip. Manson hits the turnbuckle and Jenkins charges in, but gets a back elbow to the face instead. Manson grabs Jenkins and hoists him up in a gorilla press. He takes a step toward the ropes, looking to throw Spike over the top rope and to the outside! But Jenkins frees himself from Manson's grip, landing just behind him, and he takes his chance and knocks Manson over the top! Manson bounces off the apron and hits the floor, rolling toward the barrier, as Spike latches onto the top rope, readying himself for flight.

 

"Spike forces Manson over the top and to the floor! And he's going for a plancha!"

 

Manson stands slowly, pulling himself up with the help of the barrier and turning around, as Hollywood grips the rope tighter and pulls back, giving himself the momentum to launch himself over the top and down towards Manson. But as he heads down, Manson dodges out of the way, leaving nothing between Spike and the floor below! Spike goes splat, as Manson takes a moment to regain his composure against the barrier. Kivell then begins the count.

 

"He wipes out on the outside!" shouts King.

 

"ONE!"

 

Manson pulls Spike up and lays him against the barrier, then delivers a chop to the chest, and on contact, HE MOTHERFUCKING EXPLODES! SHIT! Guts, and brains, and blood spray all over the fans in the first few rows, while the lower half of the former Spike Jenkins simply collapses to the ground. The crowd regales in celebration, having been lucky enough to witness another of miracle courtesy of MANSONOSITY!

 

"Your winner," begins Funyon, as 'Crusher Destroyer' hits, "by MANSONALITY, MMMMAAAANNNNSOOONNNNN!"

 

"The POWER strikes again, and this time it's Spike Jenkins! He was 23."

 

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT ON FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! WHY DID THIS HAPPEN! WHY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! WHY!"

 

"BECAUSE FUCK SPIKE JENKINS, THAT'S WHY!"

 

"Well, I'm pretty sure we can't say fuck either…"

[chirs3 0]

“That’s the best he can come up with!?” Natasha rages as TKO and Chris Card Enterprises storm back to their dressing room. “No stupid ‘management announcements’, no pay discussion, not even a pretence at being welcoming to ‘our overseas friends’!? The only reason that piece of shit has for staring at my tits for five minutes is that someone must have got the wrong message, he never wanted to talk to us at all!?” The Gothic Bitch turns and points a long-nailed finger at Chris Card, causing Technical Perfection to recoil half an inch on instinct. “I’m telling you Chris, you know that I’m prepared to do a lot for the good of our business interests, but being ogled by that slimy good-for-nothing piece of trash for no good reason…” Natasha seems to subside for a moment, then kicks the door of their dressing room hard. “GODDAMIT! Why can’t I kick my boss in the balls?”

 

“The rallying cry of a nation,” Card grins as he unlocks the door… but then comes to an abrupt stop because he’s just seen, further down the hallway, David Blazenwing holding two Tag Team Titles. And looking incredibly guilty, not to mention pretty damn scared. Half a second later, the timekeeper turns around and runs for all he’s worth.

 

“Get ‘im!” Card bellows, wrenching the key out of the lock and hurtling off down the corridor at top speed. Moments later he’s overtaken by KOJI, and the heavy thud of TORU’s boots shows that the big man is keeping pace. Even the hasty *clack-clack-clack* behind them indicates that Natasha is making good speed in her heels, probably through sensing that she’s going to get the chance wreak testicular havoc on somebody, even if not Joseph Peters.

 

Card, TORU and Natasha round a corner to find Blazenwing already caught, as KOJI has launched a diving tackle with an expertise not usually seen in the Japanese and tripped him. The timekeeper struggles to get away but fails, and Card reaches down to rip the title belts away from his grasp… then pauses.

 

“Plastic?” Technical Perfection says, holding one up in front of Blazenwing’s terrified face. “Plastic? What the hell are you doing running around with replica SWF Titles, numbskull?” Blazenwing doesn’t immediately answer, so Card beckons and the imposing figure of TORU Takahara looms into view.

 

“I’m sure I heard myself ask you a question,” Card informs Blazenwing as TORU strips off his trenchcoat. “I’d recommend you answer while you still can.”

 

“D-d-d-diversion!” Blazenwing stammers… then, shockingly, he grins up at Card. “Recognise these belts, Chris? All I had to do was wait until you’d unlocked the door, then make you think I’d already got the belts-”

 

*WHAM!*

 

“Shit!” Card barks as realisation dawns, cutting Blazenwing off with a perfectly-placed boot to the temple, “back to the dressing room!”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

The Smarktron comes to life three stories over the capacity crowd at the Fargo Dome, the traditional title match graphic spread across the screen. There’s nobody on it, nor is there any text, but that changes soon enough as a masked man - and his pudgy manager - appears on screen, crossing his arms over his chest as he rests back, his smile blatantly obvious despite his mouth being obscured by his mask.

 

”THE DIVINE WIND” AKIRA KAIBATSU

 

“YEEEAAAAAAHHH!!!”

 

And then, Akira and Mr. Kobe freeze, and another man flashes on screen. This one is grinning, and he holds seven fingers up, only momentarily, and then dropping five, holding the remaining two, and finally slapping the belt slung over his shoulder as he raises THE FIST~! that, by law, every mixed-martial artist has to raise when caught on camera. You know the one.

 

JJ JOHNSON

 

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION

 

“BOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Two final lines of text flash up, and the Fargo Dome takes notice in the short amount of time before the entire graphic is wiped off the screen in order to accomodate the wrestlers’ entrance videos.

 

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP

 

SUBMISSIONS MATCH

 

“And it is time for our semi-main event, ladies and gentlemen. This is Lockdown, I am the Miami Menace Longdogger Pete, and I am joined, as always, by the Self Boo-Boo King-”

 

“That’s SUICIDE King...” says the Gambling Man, through gritted teeth.

 

“-for not just any Cruiserweight Title match, although I highly doubt there is a such thing as “just any” when it comes to SWF Cruiserweight Title matches. No, ladies and gentlemen, this is a submissions match.” finishes Pete, as the curtain parts, and with the Smarktron blank and the speakers silent, Akira Kaibatsu strides out, joined only by Mr. Kobe...

 

 

“YYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHH!!!!”

 

 

...and the adulation of the fans. Kaibatsu waves to each side of the ramp as he walks down, his eyes mostly staying on the ring as Mr. Kobe trails behind him, nodding to each of the fans as opposed to waving, as if he has enough on his plate already to worry about waving. Mr. Kobe’s funny like that.

 

“Our main event for tonight, for you folks at home just tuning in, is none other than SWF World Heavyweight Champion El Luchadore Magnifico taking on Todd Cortez. And King, do you remember what happened last time Johnson was in a Cruiserweight Title match before ELM-Cortez?” asks Pete, delighting in the torment that this will cause King.

 

“...he beat Scott Pretzler for the title.” mutters King, looking around uncomfortably.

 

“BY?” inquires Pete, a delightfully evil smile on his face. King sighs.

 

“Sumngngnm.” he grumbles, barely moving his lips.

 

“What was that, King?” chides Pete, still beaming.

 

“SUBMISSION!” screams King, causing Pete to jump out of his chair and spill his Pepsi Max at the sudden noise. Satisfied, King smiles, and Akira hoists himself over the top rope and into the ring, shaking hands with Funyon and bowing to referee Anthony D’Urso.

 

As the lights drop out.

 

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

 

And with that phrase, the word “murder” not-so-subtly editted out, the first two grungy tones of Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat” burst out of the speakers, the red-and-white flash that accompanies it shocking some of the Fargo fans that are not quite used to this two-show-old entrance. The Smarktron kicks back into life, various highlights from Johnson’s matches flashing up on screen, as the lights continue to burst at an almost seizure-inducing rate as the drumming starts, and the house lights fade back in only slightly before smoke begins to billow out of the stage.

 

RRRRRAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

 

Burton C. Bell’s throaty growl comes tearing out of the sound system, and with it comes a figure striding through the fog, the flashing lights barely picking him up before he bursts into view, Johnson’s track jacket completely red as opposed to red and white as he strides down the aisle, staring into the ring. Kaibatsu and Kobe return the stare as the Canadian continues his trot down to the ring. He practically stomps up the steps, his belt still slung over his shoulder, the gold an eerie orange in the red light as Johnson steps through the ropes and up to the second, glaring out over the crowd. The crowd returns the glare, as well as a few unpleasant hand gestures and catcalls that, fortunately, the camera did not pick up. Finally, Johnson steps back down, unzipping his jacket as the house lights fade back up, and Funyon takes center stage.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a SUBMISSIONS MATCH, and it is for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship! The match will proceed as a normal match, except pinfalls do not count. The only legal finish is by making your opponent submit.”

 

The crowd roars, and Funyon smiles to himself before continuing.

 

“Introducing first, the challenger. In the blue and white tights. He stands six feet even, and weighs in tonight at 195 pounds. Being accompanied to the ring by Mr. Kobe, and hailing from Sendai, Japan...he is the Divine Wind...AAAAKKIIIIIRAAAA...KAAAAAIIIIIBAAAAAATSSSUUUUUUUU!!!!”

 

“YEEEEEEAAAAAHHH!!”

 

Akira turns to Kobe for advice, and the elderly Oriental pats his charge on the back before huddling with him to discuss strategy for the match. Meanwhile, the spotlight that was on Akira moves to Johnson, and Funyon begins to introduce, arguably, the most important man in the match.

 

“And his opponent, the champion. He stands six feet, one inch tall, and weighs in tonight at 219 pounds. From Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he is your 72-DAY REIGNING and DEFENDING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION...J...J...JOOOHHNNSSOONN!!”

 

“BOOOOOOO!”

 

Johnson has no time for their catcalls, and instead simply hands his title to D’Urso, who raises it and shows it to all four sides of the ring before handing it to timekeeper David Blazenwing for safekeeping. D’Urso then calls both men into the center of the ring.

 

“Alright guys,” begins D’Urso, “you know the rules. Watch the closed fists, watch the hair pulling-”

 

At this, the bald Akira raises his eyebrow.

 

“-watch thumbs to the eye, no low blows, and since this is Lockdown, no foul language-”

 

At this, the mute Johnson raises his eyebrow.

 

“-so there we are. Aside from that, you can ONLY win by submission. Johnson, only a ten-count on the outside. Remember that. Now, shake hands, and good luck to both of you.”

 

And with that, D’Urso waves them forward, and the honorable Akira is first to extend his hand. Johnson looks him in the eye, then takes his hand and gives it a firm pump.

 

 

Before giving it a firm twist.

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Johnson with an armwringer, and here we go!” shouts Pete as Johnson continues to contort Kaibatsu’s arm, turning it in a direction it wasn’t meant to go too far in. Akira cringes as he judges the direction of the twist before, deciding that it’s being turned clockwise, diving forward and rolling up to his feet before rolling back onto his shoulders, kipping up, and twisting Johnson’s arm around to apply his own armwringer! Johnson is shocked, but quickly begins evasive tactics by pressing his palm against the inside of his elbow, trying to force his arm to bend and keep it out of that straight position. It works, and Johnson immediately switches from pushing on the inside of the elbow to pulling on the outside, trying to twist his arm back around to a normal position so that he can regain full control over it. Kaibatsu tries to force the arm back around, but Johnson is too strong, and manages to pull his arm back into position before twisting and putting Kaibatsu in ANOTHER armwringer!

 

“Interesting tactics from both men early on, definitely working on those arms to start.” notes Pete, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

 

“Well, Pete, both guys have submission finishers that affect the arms. Did you even think of that before you spoke? Did you?” inquires King, almost offended at Pete’s short term memory lapse. Pete could use his preferred comeback to that remark, but for the sake of family-friendliness simply grumbles as Johnson doubles Kaibatsu over with a kick to the gut before draping a leg over the Divine Wind’s shoulder and sitting out and driving his opponent’s arm into the mat. Akira grabs his shoulder, but he only has about a second before Johnson bends the arm into a ground hammerlock and switching himself around into a front facelock. He squeezes, and with each squeeze he can feel the crowd deflate. Nobody likes restholds, after all. As if he can feel the boredom, Johnson scoots his knees up under him, then contiinues the front facelock as he hops from his knees to his feet, and bridges over into a sickle hold.

 

“Sickle hold by Johnson, and that’s the first submission attempt of the match!” shouts Pete as Johnson wrenches on the facelock, starting to shake slightly as he tries multi-tasking in the form of hurting Akira and maintaining a bridge. Akira, meanwhile, tries to snake his legs around Johnson’s as he reaches up to wrap his hands around Johnson’s chin. Johnson sees the leg-lace coming, and before Kaibatsu can lock in an INVERTED sickle hold, Johnson manages to wriggle his head out of the chinlock before flipping himself back over into the front facelock, cracking his neck as the Divine Wind kicks his feet against the mat, trying to will the crowd into the match.

 

“DI-VINE WIND! DI-VINE WIND! DI-VINE WIND! DI-VINE WAWWWW...”

 

The crowd begins to chant, but Johnson decides that his neck is rested enough, and flips back over into the sickle hold as the crowd once more begins to fall back into their seats. Kaibatsu tries to pull himself to the ropes, but Johnson wrenches back on the hold, and the Divine Wind lets out a short cry of pain. Akira thinks a moment, but then brings his leg up over his back to kick Johnson in the knee. He gets it once...Johnson falters. He gets it twice...Johnson’s knee almost buckles. He brings the leg up one last time...

 

...and Johnson captures the kick with his legs before releasing the sickle hold and turning over to apply a more traditional, less neck-wearing (for Johnson, anyway) STF. And as the old adage goes, the easier it is on the attacker’s neck, the easier it is to elbow your way out of. Well, that’s not an actual adage, but it holds true anyway as Akira drives three swift elbows into the champion’s ribs. Johnson blinks noticeably, and his eyes are wide for a moment, but he wrenches back on the neck some more. Kaibatsu once again lets out a cry, but then throws more elbows, five this time, and Johnson’s hands slowly become unclasped, much to the champion’s chagrin. The F of the STF has been mildly broken, but the stepover toehold is making up for the lack of facelock. An EXTREME lack of facelock, it turns out, as Akira slides his arm up into the hold and easily breaks the half-hearted hold.

 

“Very inventive by Kaibatsu, here. Very rarely can you elbow your way out of an STF, especially one by a submission expert.” says Pete, smiling at Akira’s will to survive.. “Johnson qualifies as such, and that makes it all the more impressive that the challenger could, at least for a moment, beat a striker at his own game.”

 

“Yes, he managed to make his way out of a facelock. Very good. You’ll notice that the ST survives where the F has died, and so Johnson can re-apply the hold at any time.” says King, very confident in Johnson’s ability to fight through shots to the ribs to maintain submissions. Perhaps overconfident, as Akira wriggles his leg out of the toehold and grabs Johnson’s right arm before scrambling out from under him and applying a hammerlock. He then slides off and hoists Johnson up to a seated position. He tries to do something else, but Johnson ducks under Kaibatsu’s arm and puts on his own hammerlock, but he quickly abandons that and squirms around before snapmaring Kaibatsu over and rolling him into a ground headscissors.

 

“A ground headscissors is a very useful hold, Pete. It not only gives you time to rest, but it controls your opponent’s head as well. And as we all know, if you control the head, there’s not much the body can do.” smirks King. He knows this. Pete has no comeback, as he knows this. And Johnson knows this, a smirk on his face as well.

 

 

Which is why they’re all the more surprised when Akira pushes himself up into a headstand before popping his hips and dolphining his way out of the headscissors and to his feet!

 

“YEEEEEEAAAAA-”

 

*CRACK!*

 

“-AAAAAHHHHH!!!”

 

The crowd is in mid-cheer for the impressive maneuver when the Divine Wind takes advantage of the practically shell-shocked Johnson by rushing to the ropes, hoisting himself to the apron, and then pulling himself up to the top rope before taking flight and driving his feet into Johnson’s face! Mr. Kobe leaves his standard position of leaning on the apron for the first time since the match started, clapping lightly as Johnson rolls out of the ring to recover. There’s no rest for the champion, however, as the Divine Wind is on the move once more. And as Johnson looks back at the ring, Kaibatsu sprints and leaps, sailing gracefully over the top rope to the outside. Johnson sees the somersault senton coming a mile away, and ducks-

 

*SMACK*

 

“OHHHHH!!”

 

-setting him up for Akira’s sunset flip powerbomb that sends the champion sailing back-first into the guardrail! Mr. Kobe’s slight clapping has become more enthusiastic, and although Kaibatsu’s tailbone aches, that’s nothing compared to the pain currently shooting its way across the freeway of nerves that is his shoulder. It apparently misses its turnoff, because instead of coursing down his back as it should go, the searing pain immediately rockets its way up to the base of his skull. Johnson winces, and grabs at it.

 

That can’t be good.

 

But just as soon as that thought crosses Johnson’s mind, Kaibatsu is picking him up and whipping him towards the ring. Johnson reverses, and the challenger hits the apron hard before staggering back into Johnson’s waiting arms. The champion ignores the mild tingling in his neck and tucks his head under Kaibatsu’s arm before turning around and lifting the Divine Wind. He waits a moment, holding him in a vertical suplex position, before bringing him down, knees first, on the guardrail. Akira cries out, but Johnson is not done, as he uses the momentum of Kaibatsu bouncing off of the guardrail to whip him back, dropping him on the backs of his knees across the apron! D’Urso reaches nine in his count, and Johnson quickly rolls into the ring and back out to break the count.

 

“Ha! Perform thy flip-floppery now, you heathen!” shouts King, his Middle English not quite accounted for at the moment.

 

“King, I’m sure Akira’s knees, however battered, are still in fine enough shape to fly around. And it’s not even usually in Kaibatsu’s nature to fly. He’s very ground-based, he just saw that opportunity and took it.” says Pete, taking the more sensible and less Shakespearean approach.

 

“Yeah, and it paid off real well. JJ Johnson is the second-longest reigning champion of the Cruiserweight Title era. Longer than Wildchild. Longer than Johnny Dangerous. Longer than Pre...” King trails off.

 

“That’s right. Longer than Pretzler.” says Pete, with a smile.

 

“...shut up. Anyway, Johnson didn’t get that way by making foolish mistakes, and taking silly opportunities. Akira put himself against Johnson on the outside, and the outside is Johnson’s domain. Anything that happens to him is his own fault.” says King as Johnson lifts Akira to try another “slingshot” suplex. The Divine Wind has his wits about him, however, and blocks the suplex before shoving Johnson back-first into the apron and sliding into the ring. Johnson lets out a low groan, but Akira has more plans as he grabs the top rope before swinging his feet between the bottom and middle for a hangman’s dropkick right to Johnson’s neck. Johnson is driven into the ring barrier, and Kaibatsu uses that as an opportunity to rest and try to rub the pain out of his knees, Mr. Kobe suggesting anything from massage techniques to how the World Series is going. Speaking of rubbing pain, Johnson is grabbing at his neck some more, but makes it into the ring at seven much to the fans’ delight. The challenger can’t win the title on a countout, after all, especially not in a match where you can’t even win by pinfall.

 

Akira moves in quickly and pounces on Johnson, trapping his leg before attempting an STF. Johnson, however, knows what a hold like that could do to his neck, and pulls a Kaibatsu by attempting to elbow his way out. Akira is made of tougher stuff, though, and hangs on tight with the toehold as he sits back to avoid the elbows. Johnson is made of sneakier stuff than THAT, though, and manages to dislodge his leg before driving a sharp kick into the leg of the Divine Wind. Kaibatsu winces, and grabs at his knee, and Johnson immediately dives and tries to lace them around his leg.

 

“Indian Deathlock! We saw Johnson apply this on KOJI, and with the challenger’s leg hurt, this could be equally effective. Granted, Akira’s leg isn’t nearly as bad as KOJI’s were at the time, but this hold could do a lot towards making it so.” analyzes the Longdogger as Kaibatsu resists Johnson’s attempts to bend his leg in places it wasn’t meant to go. The struggle goes on a little longer, and with no pepper spray on his palm to use on Akira, like he did with KOJI, Johnson wisely decides to bail out. The Divine Wind is more than a little confused, and manages to push himself up to a knee, looking over at Mr. Kobe for guidance. Kobe is calm, explaining in Japanese everything that Akira could possibly want to plan for. As he explains, Kobe becomes slightly less calm, and less sage. The manager is frightened by something, and what that something is is soon answered as he feels about 219 pounds of pressure on his outstretched knee. Kaibatsu turns, just in time to see JJ Johnson’s leg whipping around...

 

 

*SMAA-AAA-AACK!!!*

 

 

“SHINING WIZAAAHHHDD!!” screams King, as Akira slumps over and Johnson shakes the cobwebs out of his head. “He obviously picked that up from Landon, only he used the far superior roundhouse version, instead of the lazy knee to the face version.”

 

Kaibatsu’s head is throbbing. Nobody can really blame him for that, a martial artist just kicked him in the head. Really hard. But his knee is throbbing worse. And he knows why. A 200+ pound man just stepped on it, and used it to support his weight. Nobody could have really won on that exchange, although for the first time in SWF history somebody wishes that Johnson had just kicked him in the head instead of making it all fancy. He’s not alone in that, though.

 

Johnson’s neck is burning. That landing jarred him a lot more than he had expected, and all of this bumping around really isn’t helping all that much. He’s almost surprised that a mere two-foot fall onto his tailbone could hurt like it did, but he resigned himself long ago to the fact that just about everything in wrestling hurts. Earlier, he had just dealt with it, but now with his neck hurting the way it is, he’s going to have to start playing it safe. No moves that require bridging. No moves that require strenuous lifting, although that’s a short list with a guy as light as Kaibatsu is. And apparently, no moves that require two-foot falls.

 

 

D’Urso begins his ten count, Johnson already sitting up, and Kaibatsu shaking his head groggily as he begins to rise as well. Around five, Johnson grabs the ropes and uses them to pull himself to his feet quicker than just plain standing would. He’d kip up, but he’s not sure his neck is in proper shape for that. And even if it is, he’s not going to try.

 

Kaibatsu also begins standing, noticeably placing the bulk of his weight on his left leg. Kobe looks slightly worried, but shakes it off as Akira throws a sharp kick at the gut of Johnson. Johnson catches it, and remembering what happened last time a foot was thrown away in one of his matches, avoids a Dragon Whip by simply planting the foot on the ground. Before he can do too much, the foot is right back up, and has planted itself firmly in his stomach. Johnson doubles over, and can feel his arms being underhooked. Knowing what this precedes, Johnson drops to one knee, hoping to sandbag his way out of the neck-wrenching maneuever. The Divine Wind releases the hold. Apparently, that worked. Deciding on a bit of a surprise, Johnson blasts out of his doubled-over position with a clothesline!

 

That goes sailing over Akira’s head! The Divine Wind quickly ducks, and as Johnson turns around Kaibatsu plants a foot in his stomach for a third time before underhooking the arms and lifting him up...around...and...DOWN!

 

*BANG!*

 

“It Came From Sendai!” cries Pete, as Johnson’s body bounces off of the mat before he rolls onto his back, breathing heavily. Akira simply falls back. “That spinning sitout underhook facebuster, and that can’t be good for Johnson’s neck!”

 

“Johnson’s neck is fine! In fact, that move hurt AKIRA!” shouts King, looking for excuses. There are none. Johnson’s neck IS in bad shape, and that move only slightly hurt, so the Divine Wind is up. The man from the land of the Rising Sun quickly straddles Johnson’s back before underhooking his arms. The noise level in the Fargo Dome rises, knowing exactly what this precedes. All Akira has to do now is bridge over, and he goes to do so, the noise rising exponentially now.

 

 

Unfortunately, Johnson rolls over, and now it is Johnson who has an advantage as Akira finds himself trapped in a position similar to what Johnson was about to be caught in. However, there’s no bridge, just laying, so the pressure on his neck and shoulders isn’t nearly as bad. However, Johnson doesn’t care to sit there much longer, and so the Canadian takes a moment to wipe his brow (although not literally) before rolling back and taking hold of Kaibatsu’s legs. The Divine Wind immediately begins to struggle, so Johnson stands before leaping sky high and dropping a knee onto Akira’s quad. That stops his struggling, if only for a moment, but that’s long enough for Johnson to thread his leg in between those of Akira’s before twisting them together, and finally grabbing the Divine Wind’s foot and twisting the ankle. The crowd is slightly confused, but as they recognize the move, the level of boos in the arena reaches a rather high level.

 

“ORIGINAL FROSTBITE! I HAVEN’T SEEN THIS MOVE IN MONTHS, PETE!”

 

Including at the announce table. King’s scream proves true, though, as Akira immediately grabs at the ropes that are so near. He can’t quite reach them, and so he hoists himself a little closer. As close as he can hoist. And begins to reach out. The ropes are so close now. 1 foot.

 

9 inches.

 

 

6 inches.

 

 

 

 

 

3 inches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6 inches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6 feet.

 

 

Because much to the arena, Mr. Kobe, and Akira Kaibatsu’s dismay, Johnson has pulled him back into the center of the ring, and has dropped to his knees with the maneuever to apply more pressure. Akira had not planned for this move. Nobody had planned for this move, not even Johnson, who had applied the hold almost instinctively. His neck hurts, but you don’t need your neck to twist an ankle, or hold legs together, and so he continues to twist and hold. And twist and hold.

 

“This could be it, Pete!” says King. “You’re going to owe me a dollar!”

 

Pete glares at the Gambling (except where illegal. Stay in school, kids.) Man. “I didn’t bet a dollar...”

 

 

Which is a good thing, because as Akira’s knee slowly begins to tear itself apart, and it becomes harder and harder to hold himself up on his hands, the situation dawns on the Divine Wind.

 

This is his sixth SWF match.

 

 

He’s received a total of three title shots now.

 

 

*TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP*

 

 

And he’s blown all of them. “Scapegoat” hits as Johnson immediately breaks the hold and rolls to the outside, grabbing his neck and gritting his teeth.

 

“Well, that’s all for that one, folks. Johnson’s reign will live to see 73 days. Stay tuned, because we’ve got Magnifico-Cortez II, next!” shouts Pete, shilling the next match.

 

“Where’s my dollar?” grumbles King as D’Urso slides out to greet the champion with his belt, and Johnson snatches it out of the referee’s hands, furious, before stomping to the back. Mr. Kobe slides into the ring to tend to Akira as Johnson disappears through the curtain, just before Funyon raises the microphone to his lips.

 

“Here is your winner, and STIIIIILLLL SWF Cruiserweight Champion, J...J...JOHNSON!”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

Edited October 29, 2005 by Chuck Woolery

[chirs3 0]

“…of-a-bitch!”

 

Natasha has just finished cursing, cursing so vigorously in fact that even TORU and KOJI are looking at her askance. Chris Card, meanwhile, has long ago got used to his business partner’s temper and is staring instead at one wall of the dressing room.

 

“So tell me David,” he begins in a tone of barely-controlled fury, “after your new stablemates had finished breaking into our locker room and stealing our title belts, what exactly was the plan for you? Was it to leave you here to our tender mercies?”

 

“They’re going to come back for me!” Blazenwing protests from behind him, but it doesn’t sound like even he believes it anymore.

 

“David, I don’t know what annoys me more,” Card admits, still not turning around, “the fact that Landon has stolen property that belongs to my clients, or that he decided to use such a completely retarded moron as yourself to do it. In my opinion, that just adds to the insult.”

 

“My friends will get you!” Blazenwing threatens, nearly in tears, but Card just sighs.

 

“David, perhaps this will teach you never to trust a man who names himself after a six-legged pest,” he sighs, still staring at the wall in front of him. “Take it away, guys.”

 

“No! Nooo! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Blazenwing wails as TORU and KOJI each prise one leg apart.

 

“Oh David,” Natasha says in a voice of sickly venom, “open wide…”

 

*CHING!*

 

*CHING!*

 

*CHING!*

 

As Natasha finally works off some of her frustration in the background, Chris Card continues to stare at the wall in front of him. Cucaracha Internacional only had a minute or so to steal the belts from the unlocked dressing room and get the hell out of Dodge, but Landon wanted to make sure that they left their mark. And so, painted with a speed that would have made Rolf Harris proud, one wall of TKO’s dressing room is adorned with a very crude rendition of a cockroach, with its shell painted in colours signifying the American, Canadian and Spanish flags. A small bubble is emerging from its gormlessly-grinning mouth with the word ‘HOLA!’ painted in childlike letters, while underneath four words are scrawled.

 

‘The Mark Of Cucaracha!’

 

Chris Card does not look very pleased.

 

“Landon,” Technical Perfection hisses, “of course you know that this means war…”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

FADE IN

 

“Welcome back to Lockdown,” says Longdogger Pete. “Coming up next, we have TORU Takahara of TKO taking on the Wildchild. And King, this is the first time that Wildchild’s been in action here in the SWF since he was abandoned by his partner, Johnny Dangerous!”

 

“As far as I’m concerned, Wildchild proved Johnny right,” says the Suicide King. “We saw that Wildchild was the weak link two weeks ago on Lockdown, when he cost his team a chance at another title shot!”

 

“Oh please!” groans Pete. “Were you watching the same match that I was? Wildchild lasted as long as he could by himself, against a dominant tag team. That hardly makes him a weak link!”

 

“He didn’t win, did he?” asks King.

 

“Well, no,” replies Pete, “but…”

 

“Well then, he’s a weak link!”

 

“At any rate,” continues LDP, noticeably ignoring King, “it’s somewhat fitting that Wildchild’s first in-ring action since then is against the man who got the pinfall over him in that match!”

 

“And you can be sure that TORU Takahara is going to be fired up for this match,” adds King. “Not only will he have the confidence of knowing that he can beat Wildchild, but he’s also going to be upset about having his Tag Team titles stolen by…”

 

“Wait just a minute, King!” snaps LDP. “What do you mean, his Tag Team titles? They weren’t his in the first place! He and his partner stole those belts from Cucaracha Internacional! The belts weren’t stolen; they were reclaimed by their rightful owners!”

 

“Now you’re talking semantics,” replies King. “This is the SWF, after all, where possession is eleven-tenths of the law! The belts belonged to TKO, as far as I’m concerned!”

 

“In any case,” says Pete, “the belts have been taken away from TKO, and as you said, King, TORU is likely to be indignant about it, at the very least!”

 

“And he’s going to give Wildchild a world of problems in this Cruiserweight Rules match,” says King. “I mean, TORU Takahara is one of those rare guys that you see come down the pipe that has the total package like he has. I mean, he can do it all: power wrestling, brawling, scientific… no style is out of his grasp. But, what really sets TORU apart from others of his size are his agility and speed. TORU is FRIGHTENINGLY quick for a man of his size; hell, he may only be a step or two slower than Wildchild himself, and that’s going to cause tremendous problems for Wildchild!”

 

“Well, King, Wildchild has made something of a reputation for himself by cutting larger opponents down to size,” counters LDP, “but you’re right; he’s never faced anyone quite like TORU Takahara in single’s competition before. And with that said, let’s send it over to Funyon in the ring!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“The following contest is a Cruiserweight Rules match, scheduled for one fall!” As Funyon speaks into the microphone, the sound system in the Fargo Dome begins to blast “Teethgrinder,” by Therapy. As the eclectic beat reverberates off the walls, TORU steps out from the curtain, along with his manager, Chris Card, and Card’s consiglieri, Natasha.

 

“Introducing first,” continues Funyon, “being accompanied to the ring by Chris Card and Natasha… from the Saitama Prefecture, in Japan, and weighing in at two hundred sixty-four pounds… TORU Takahara!” TORU pauses in front of the ring, extending his arms to allow Natasha to take off his trench coat before, vaulting over the top rope into the ring. He struts around the ring with a cocky grin on his face, stopping to pose for the TKO section as his music fades out.

 

“TORU looks like he’s having a good time in the ring,” says Pete. “Will he be having a good time at Wildchild’s expense?” With that, Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” begins to play, signaling the arrival of the Wildchild. The Bahama Bomber steps out onto the stage, hand-in-hand with his lady fair.

 

“His opponent,” booms Funyon, “is being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! From the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild greets the fans surrounding the ring barricade, absorbing their cheers like a solar battery.

 

“King, Wildchild has always closely tied his success to his relationship with his fans, and you can tell how much more at ease he seems, now that he’s no longer associated with Johnny Dangerous,” says Pete. “It was almost as if he’d aged ten years over the past few months and, in the last couple of weeks, it’s like he found a fountain of youth!”

 

“Well, he may be smiling more again,” replies King, as Wildchild and Melissa pause at ringside to look up into the ring at TORU, “but none of those fans are going to be able to help him against TORU Takahara!”

 

“King, you’d be surprised by how much simple cheering can mean to someone like Wildchild,” counters LDP. “I mean, they can give you energy just by… oh my God, LOOK OUT!”

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Johnny Dangerous races down the ramp and knocks Wildchild down from behind with a ferocious Sickle-style clothesline!

 

“This is crazy!” exclaims Pete, as Johnny stomps Wildchild repeatedly in the chest. “Somebody do something about this; Johnny Dangerous isn’t supposed to be involved in this match!” Johnny kicks Wildchild all the way to the ring apron, where he picks up his former tag team partner by the sides of his head, and rams it against the steel frame of the apron!

 

“Hah!” snorts King, as Johnny lifts Wildchild up off the arena floor, only to plant him with a Scoop Slam. “I love it! And the best part is, the bell hasn’t even rung! Wildchild’s out there taking all this punishment, and he’s not even being paid for it!” Melissa tries to put herself between Johnny and Wildchild, but the Barracuda casually pushes her aside, and pulls her boyfriend back to his feet. Johnny grabs Wildchild by the back of the head and leads him across the floor…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Only to smash his face into the top of the solid steel ring stairs!

 

“Whoa! Right into the steel steps!” shouts Pete. “Come on referee! Get down there and do something!”

 

“Herrington can’t do anything to Johnny Dangerous,” replies King. “That ain’t his opponent!”

 

“I told you to stay out of my way!” screams Johnny, as he stands over Wildchild’s motionless body. “But you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? You think you can just cost me a title shot, huh?” Johnny pulls Wildchild to his feet and slams his face against the apron one more time before rolling him underneath the bottom rope. Referee Red Herrington chastises Johnny and warns him against remaining at ringside, finally getting the Barracuda to walk back up the ramp.

 

Back inside the ring, TORU walks across the ring and motions to Chris Card, who hands him a small bottle of sake while Herrington is checking on Wildchild, to see if he is able to continue.

 

“It looks like Red Herrington is going to give Wildchild the okay to wrestle,” says Pete. “But Wildchild’s in pretty bad shape! I don’t know how much punishment he’ll be able to take!” TORU pushes Herrington aside and pulls Wildchild to his feet, prompting Herrington to order the referee to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match.

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

Just then, Natasha climbs onto the apron to distract Herrington, just as TORU spits the sake into Wildchild’s eyes!

 

“Oh no!” cries Pete. “Sake right in the eyes! That’s gotta BURN!” TORU grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him hard into the corner! Takahara then mocks the Bahama Bomber as he leans back heavily against the turnbuckles by falling to his knees, pantomiming a “time out” with his hands, as if Wildchild had actually been dominating him.

 

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

 

“TORU Takahara’s playing mind games with Wildchild right now,” says King, “and the TKO Section is showing their appreciation!” TORU pulls Wildchild out of the corner and whips him across the ring into the opposing set of turnbuckles! He then walks deliberately over to the Caribbean Cruiser and lifts him into a military press, walking him around the ring, and pausing to show off his power to the TKO section, before spinning Wildchild around overhead, catching him in midair as he begins to fall, and twisting him down onto his outstretched thigh, to batter Wildchild’s back into a scintillating tilt-a-whirl backbreaker!

 

“What an amazing maneuver by TORU Takahara!” praises King. “I’ve seen people turn that military press into a powerslam before, but never into a backbreaker quite the way that TORU just did!”

 

“Oh, he’s definitely got a lot of power, there’s no doubt about that,” agrees LDP. “But this is unfair, King! Wildchild got his clock cleaned before the match even started!”

 

“And he’s getting his clock cleaned even more now by TORU Takahara!” TORU applies a half-hearted lateral press to Wildchild as Herrington drops down to count the pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE—

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

Nonplussed by Wildchild ability to stave off defeat, Takahara pulls him up to his knees, only to run bootlaces across his eyes!

 

“Wow, TORU seems to be particularly sadistic today,” notes Pete.

 

“I told you, he was upset about having his belts stolen!”

 

“For the last time,” warns Pete, “the belts didn’t BELONG to them!” Back in the ring, TORU pulls Wildchild to his feet and leans him up against the ropes. Takahara pulls Wildchild’s shoulder straps down, exposing his chest…

 

 

SMACK! WHOOO!

 

 

… And then unleashes a loud open-handed chop to the Bahaman’s chest!

 

 

SMACK! WHOOO!

SMACK! WHOOO!

SMACK! WHOOO!

 

 

TORU pulls Wildchild off the ropes, only to grab him by the back of the head and lead him over to the corner again, smashing his face into the top turnbuckle! TORU grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him into the opposite corner, racing in after him to deliver a running avalanche splash, but the Human Hurricane dives out of the corner, causing TORU to smash chest-first into the turnbuckles instead! Wildchild races to the ropes and leaps into the air as Takahara staggers backwards out of the corner, blasting him in the back with a running dropkick that sends TORU stumbling towards the edge of the ring, falling into the middle ropes! Sensing an opportunity, Wildchild dashes towards the edge of the ring and dives headfirst towards the ropes beside TORU, grabbing onto the top and middle ropes with his hands and swinging around…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… To blast TORU in the face with both feet!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Chicklet Buster!” shouts Pete, as TORU bounces back into the ring, flopping around like a fish out of water. “Wildchild just went old school on TORU!” Wildchild waits nervously on the ring apron for TORU to return to his feet, and then immediately leaps onto the top rope, flipping forward as he sails back into the ring to blast Takahara in the chest with his patented Shooting Star Missile Dropkick!

 

“Wildchild appears to have shaken off that early assault from his former partner, and found a second wind!” exclaims Pete, and Wildchild leaps onto TORU’s chest and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—NO WAY!

 

 

“You’re not going to hold TORU down without hooking something, I’m sorry!”

 

“Definitely not,” agrees King. Wildchild pulls TORU to his feet and attempts to whip him into the ropes, only for TORU to reverse it. Takahara launches Wildchild into the air as he rebounds, and steadies himself to catch him with some kind of backbreaker as he falls, but the Human Hurricane changes direction in midair and locks his legs around TORU’s neck, taking him over with a breathtaking Hurricanrana! TORU rolls towards the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to pull himself up…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Just as Wildchild flies through the air and knocks him over the top rope with a flying leg lariat!

 

“Wildchild’s on a roll!” shouts Pete. “He’s got TORU reeling!” The Bahama Bomber waits for TORU to get to his feet, and then races across the ring, bouncing off the ropes to build momentum and leaping into the air as he approaches the edge of the ring, leaping over the top rope and sailing out of the ring… into the waiting arms of Takahara!

 

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

TORU catches Wildchild in midair and runs him into the solid steel ringpost!

 

 

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

 

“Tremendous presence of mind by TORU Takahara to catch Wildchild in the middle of that dive to the outside,” praises King. “And what about the power?”

 

“He’s definitely got all the right tools, like you said, King,” concedes Pete. TORU grabs Wildchild and pulls him away from the ringpost, lifting him overhead as he walks over towards the ring barricade, and then drops him throat-first on the barricade, right in front of the TKO Section! TORU climbs back into the ring while the TKO Section doles out all manner of verbal static to the Bahama Bomber, and then calls the referee over to him, holding his attention while Chris Card walks around the ring to where Wildchild is leaning against the ropes… and jabs him in the ribs with his cane!

 

“This is crazy!” growls LDP. “TORU Takahara and Chris Card have been cheating with reckless abandon this entire match!”

 

“Ah, give it a rest, MacDougal,” replies King. “If Herrington had a problem with it, he would have done something about it by now!”

 

“How’s he supposed to do something about it when he can’t even see what’s happening?” challenges Pete. “TORU and Chris Card keep taking turns distracting him!” Card leads Wildchild over to the ring apron, where TORU reaches down from over the top rope to grab Wildchild by the back of the head, and pulls him up onto the apron. TORU traps him in a front facelock, and then suplexes him into the ring from the apron! TORU floats through into a pinning combination:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THRE—

 

 

But only gets two! TORU picks Wildchild up and sets him on his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry position and lines himself up with the corner before flipping backwards, driving Wildchild into canvas with a Blockbuster Slam!

 

“TORU plants Wildchild with that Blockbuster Slam of his,” says King, “and it looks like he’s about to go up top!”

 

“High risk area,” agrees Pete, as TORU climbs up to the top turnbuckle, “but not for this guy; TORU can do some amazing things from that top rope!” TORU leaps from the top rope, flipping backwards through the air to deliver an AIR TORU Moonsault legdrop!

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

But Wildchild rolls out of the way, watching as TORU crashes and burns, jamming his pelvis against the canvas! Wildchild crawls over to the corner and uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet. He beats TORU to his feet and begins to batter him with a series of rapid-fire right hands:

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

TORU finally collects his bearings, and stops Wildchild’s momentum with a kneelift to the midsection. He then grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him into the ropes, raising his arm as he rebounds to deliver a lariat, but the Bahama Bomber ducks underneath! He shuffles his feet as TORU spins around and thrusts his right leg forward to deliver a sidekick, but the nimble Nihonjin catches his foot! TORU tries to push him backwards, but Wildchild flips through and lands on his feet. TORU rushes towards him to try once more for the lariat, but Wildchild sprawls out against the canvas, quickly springing back to his feet as TORU bounces off the ropes…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Blasting him with a sidekick that knocks his shades off!

 

 

“Beautiful counter to the lariat!” exclaims Pete. “Wildchild sticks to his game plan, and gets the sidekick that he was looking for originally!”

 

“TORU’s not going to like that he lost his shades, either,” adds King. “But look; he’s still on his feet!” Wildchild races to the ropes, leaping onto the top rope and curling into a ball as he springs off, to blast Takahara in the chest with his patented Pinball, which finally takes the bigger man down! Wildchild leaps up to the top turnbuckle of the nearby corner and quickly sits down, bouncing off the ropes from the seated position and flipping backwards to crash into TORU with a split-legged moonsault!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— KICKOUT!

 

 

Wildchild pulls TORU to his feet, but the nefarious Nihonjin rakes his eyes to stun him. He lifts Wildchild up for a Scoop Slam, but the Tropical Tumbler hooks him around the head and legs to trap him in a small package!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

FOUR?

 

 

“Wildchild has TORU Takahara trapped in a small package, but Chris Card leaps up onto the apron to distract the referee!” Finally, Herrington turns around, but by now, TORU is able to beat the one-count.

 

Unsure of what else he can possibly do to put the big man away, Wildchild punches down at the top of TORU, as the Nefarious Nihonjin rolls onto his knees, but TORU continues to rise. Wildchild backs into the ropes and runs back towards TORU leaping into the air… but Takahara suddenly lurches up and snatches the Bahama Bomber out of the air, wrapping his chiseled arms around him, and squeezing for all he’s worth.

 

“Bearhug,” crows King, as TORU stumbles and falls to his knees, but manages to hold onto the bearhug. “And there’s that power I was talking about; I don’t know if Wildchild will be able to get out of this hold, at this point in the match!”

 

“I’m not so sure about that,” counters Pete. “I think it’s highly unlikely that he’ll be able to get a win with this move.”

 

“MacDougal, you can beat ANYBODY with a submission hold, if you get it on right!”

 

“Well, that’s just the thing,” says LDP. “He doesn’t HAVE good position; I’ll grant you that, if he gets a good stance, this very well COULD be over, but he doesn’t have that right now!”

 

TORU, his knees still on the canvas, leans forward, increasing the pressure to his unforgiving bearhug, as he lifts his left knee off the mat, planting his foot on the canvas. Wildchild, screaming in excruciating pain, struggles to free himself to no avail, as Takahara begins to stand upright.

 

 

“He’s almost upright,” shouts King triumphantly. “Stick a fork in your little Caribbean friend; he’s done!”

 

TORU straightens his back out and begins to stand upright. In a desperate attempt to free himself before he blacks out from the pain, Wildchild rocks his legs back and forth, swinging them forward and slamming them into exposed side of the Nefarious Nihonjin’s right knee!

 

“That kick to the knee has stunned TORU!” exclaims LDP.

 

With one more desperate swing, Wildchild jams his feet into TORU’s right knee again, causing the Nefarious Nihonjin to release his crushing bearhug! The Tropical Tumbler falls to the mat and rolls over to the ropes as the bigger man his knee in pain. Wildchild reaches up with to grab the ropes, pulling himself to a sitting position as TORU continues to nurse his sore knee. Turning his back to his opponent, the Bahama Bomber continues the seemingly arduous task of pulling himself back to his feet.

 

“Turn around kid,” pleads LDP. “Even on one leg, TORU is too dangerous for you turn your back on him!”

 

Sure enough, Wildchild turns back towards the ring and sees the massive TORU bearing down on him!

 

 

“Gore,” shouts King.

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

Takahara lumbers toward Wildchild with his shoulder lowered, but the Bahama Bomber dives towards his legs, toppling the charging giant with a dropkick to his tender knee! TORU falls forward and rolls onto his back, holding onto his knee, as Wildchild crawls across the ring. Pulling himself to his feet, Wildchild runs towards TORU and leaps into the air, crashing onto his knee with a Senton Splash!

 

“Somebody stop this,” cries King. “He could do permanent damage to TORU’s knee!”

 

“As far as I’m concerned,” counters LDP, “after what he and Card have conspired to do in this match, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy!” Wildchild pops to his feet and whips his hands through the air, giving the sign for the FSP!

 

“Wildchild just signaled for the Falling Star Press!” shouts Pete. “If he hits this, it could be all over!” Wildchild races to the ropes, but Chris Card reaches into the ring and hooks him by the ankle, tripping him! Wildchild pops back to his feet and lunges through the ropes to get his hands on Card, but Card steps just out of his reach, holding his attention just long enough for TORU to nail Wildchild from behind with a double-sledgehammer blow that knocks him into the second rope! TORU presses Wildchild’s throat against the middle rope, and leans onto it to choke him out, forcing Red Herrington to begin a count. TORU, much to Herrington’s surprise, begins to count along with him, in a loud, obnoxious voice:

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FI—

 

 

And, on the count of five, TORU breaks the hold, stepping away from Wildchild and allowing Herrington to chastise him for cheating, which frees Card to reach up and choke Wildchild on the second rope!

 

“For goodness sakes!” screams Pete. “How about doing something… anything!” Card backs away from Wildchild just as Herrington turns around. The referee notices the ropes bobbing up and down, and eyes Card suspiciously, but the conniving manager holds up his hands as if to say, “I’m innocent!” Pleased that they have, once again, gotten away with flagrant cheating, TORU pulls Wildchild away from the ropes and whips him across the ring, scooping him up in a powerslam as he rebounds… only to turn it into a backbreaker on the way down!

 

“Another beautiful backbreaker on the part of TORU Takahara!” gushes King. I thought that he was going to hit Wildchild with a powerslam, but he turned it into a backbreaker; I tell you what, Drain-Clogger, this guy knows more backbreaker variations than anyone else I’ve ever seen!”

 

“I still can’t believe that Red Herrington let Chris Card get away with choking Wildchild Scott-free! He never even admonished Card!”

 

“He didn’t see it!” counters King, as TORU drags Wildchild over towards a neutral corner. “How are you supposed to call something if you don’t see it, MacDougal?”

 

“Well, I think it’s a shame that someone as talented as TORU Takahara feels as though he has to resort to cheating,” cries LDP. TORU leans Wildchild up against the turnbuckles, and then climbs the ropes, assuming a mounted position over the Bahama Bomber.

 

“MacDougal, it’s not always about needing to do it,” quips King. “It’s about wanting to do it; it’s about doing what makes you feel good. And obviously, cheating makes TORU feel good; who are you to deny him the chance to enjoy what he’s doing?” TORU begins to deliver a ten-count punch:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

… But Wildchild slips out from underneath him before he can finish, and leaps into the air, kicking TORU in the posterior with a dropkick, and causing him to lurch forward…

 

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Smacking his face against the ringpost! Dazed, Takahara begins to fall backwards, right into the waiting arms of Wildchild, who rolls him into a pinning combination!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

 

“Kickout!” shouts King. “Tremendous resilience on the part of TORU Takahara to kick out of that!” Card leaps onto the apron to grab the referee’s attention, and as soon as he turns his back, TORU stuns Wildchild with a rake of the eyes, and then leads him over to the edge of the ring and pitches him over the top rope, down to the arena floor!

 

“That’s a disqualification!” roars LDP. “This match should be over! The referee needs to disqualify TORU for throwing Wildchild over the top rope!”

 

“He can’t call it if he doesn’t see it!” replies King. “And Chris Card is doing an excellent job of keeping Red Herrington’s attention diverted whenever his man is about to do something illegal!” Wildchild attempts to crawl away from the ring area, but TORU steps out of the ring to pursue him, pulling him up to his feet and slamming him back-first into the hard rubber barricade! Herrington turns around to see both men outside the ring, and begins to deliver his count:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

TORU knees Wildchild repeatedly in the ribs and backs him up against the barricade, keeping him stunned with heavy right hands to the face.

 

 

NINE!

 

 

TEN!

 

 

ELEVEN!

 

 

TORU slides back into the ring as Herrington continues his count, but he clearly does not intend to allow him to finish, as he runs across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and leaps into the air as he approaches the other side of the ring, sailing gracefully over the top rope…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And crashes into Wildchild with the TORU Hammer! The TKO Section begins cheering wildly for Takahara as he soaks in their adulation like a sponge:

 

 

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

TO-RU!

 

“Takahara scoring with that devastating TORU Hammer!” exclaims Pete. “And Wildchild’s not moving!”

 

“I think it’s over if he wants it,” adds King. TORU rolls Wildchild into the ring, and climbs in after him, planting his boot into Wildchild’s chest and posing for the TKO Section as Herrington counts his cocky pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No! Wildchild gets his foot on the ropes!

 

 

“Ah!” groans King. “He took the cheap way out!”

 

“Cheap way out?” asks Pete. “How can you criticize Wildchild for something like that, after everything that TORU and Card have done in this match?” Card walks past Wildchild and pushes his foot off the ropes. TORU drops to his knees this time, in order to apply a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

But he forgets to hook the leg…

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

And Wildchild gets his foot back onto the bottom rope to break up the count!

 

 

“And he did it again!” Card calls the referee over to him, distracting him as TORU heads over to a neutral corner and removes the top turnbuckle pad.

 

“For crying out loud!” screams Pete. “Enough is enough! TORU and Card have been cheating all the way through this match!”

 

“And if he rams Wildchild’s face into that turnbuckle pad,” adds King, “he’s going to cheat his way right into a win!” TORU pulls Wildchild up off the canvas and leads him over to the corner, grabbing him by the back of the head and pushing him face-first towards the exposed turnbuckle…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But Wildchild gets his foot up to block it, and rams TORU’s face into the turnbuckle instead! As TORU staggers out of the corner off-balance, Wildchild grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite turnbuckles, running to the ropes as TORU stumbles backwards…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And leveling the Nefarious Nihonjin with a flying leg lariat! TORU falls to the canvas, lined up with the corner, and Wildchild quickly exits to the ring apron.

 

“Wildchild’s going up to the top!” exclaims Pete. “And there’s no telling what he might do up there!” Wildchild leaps from the top turnbuckle, and turns two full flips as he falls through the air…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Before crashing onto TORU’s chest with the Falling Star Bomb! He reaches back to hook the leg as Herrington drops down to count the pinfall:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— But Wildchild suddenly abandons his cover, as Johnny Dangerous rushes back down to ringside and leaps onto the apron! He runs over to the edge of the ring and takes a wild swing at Johnny’s head, but the Barracuda drops down to the arena floor, just out of his range! Herrington attempts to restrain Wildchild as he reaches through the ropes to get his hands on Johnny…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Which gives TORU enough recovery time to nail Wildchild from the blind side with a double axe-handle! Chris Card slides his cane into the ring, and then hops onto the apron to get Herrington’s attention.

 

“Oh no,” moans Pete. “Chris Card just slid his cane into the ring; will the cheating never end?” Wildchild sees the chicanery coming, however, and draws back his right hand in order to mount a counter offensive, but Johnny jumps back onto the apron and reaches into the ring to grab Wildchild’s hand before he can strike! Furious, Wildchild spins around, and takes another wild swing at his former partner, but this time, Johnny not only avoids the swing, but also traps him in a full nelson, holding him steady as TORU measures him for a cane shot!

 

“Oh no,” moans Pete, “this is going to be gruesome; I can’t watch!” TORU grips the cane like a baseball bat and swings mightily towards Wildchild’s head…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

But, like Mighty Casey at the bat, TORU misses the mark, as Wildchild squirms out of Johnny’s grasp, causing Takahara to nail the Barracuda instead, snapping the cane over his skull!

 

“He missed!” shouts LDP. “He missed!” Wildchild scrambles to his feet while TORU is still in shock, stunning him with a kick to the midsection and leaping into the air, swinging his leg over the back of TORU’s neck and driving him face-first into the canvas with the Caribbean Cutter!

 

“Cutter!” shrieks Pete. “Cutter! TORU’s out!” Wildchild runs over to Chris Card, knocking him off the apron, and then races back across the ring, leaping onto the top rope and leaping backwards as he falls forwards…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Crashing into TORU with the Falling Star Press! Wildchild grabs both of TORU’s legs and pulls back for all he’s worth as Red Herrington drops down to count the pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“He did it!” cries Pete. “By God, he did it!” Mystikal begins to play again as Wildchild hustles out of the ring, pulling Melissa behind him.

 

“Here is your winner,” booms Funyon, “the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!”

 

“An unbelievable victory by Wildchild, over the red-hot TORU Takahara!” shouts LDP. “Johnny Dangerous tried to cost him the match, but his interference backfired, and Wildchild overcame seemingly insurmountable odds to get the win! Folks, we’ll be right back with more exciting action here on Lockdown!”

 

Johnny picks himself up off of the arena floor, a small trickle of blood running down his forehead from the cane shot. He glares up the ramp at his former partner, grinding his teeth with rage…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

SWF Lockdown returns from its final commercial break and welcomes back the home viewer with a majestic shot of the inside of the Fargo Dome, packed to its brim with twenty thousand ridiculously excited North Dakotans. Random cries of “NDSU Rules!” ring out from the crowd as they anxiously await the evening’s main event.

 

“One for the treble, two for the bass…”

 

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

The rest of the beginning of “Oh No” is completely drowned out as the fans release a massive pop in anticipation of the arrival of Todd Cortez. When Nate Dogg utters “oh no” for the first time, two bursts of pyro explode upwards from either side of the ramp, bathing the entrance stage in sparks as Cortez strides out from behind the curtain. The live audience somehow grows even louder upon seeing Todd, who confidently treads down the ramp, a determined scowl painted across his face.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is this evening’s MAIN EVENT!” Funyon proudly shouts. “Introducing first, from Hollywood Boulevard, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-six pounds…TOOOOOOOOODD COOOOOORRRRRRTEZ!!”

 

Todd reaches the ring and rolls beneath its bottom rope, then pops to his feet and immediately climbs onto the second turnbuckle of the nearby corner. He looks out over the crowd for a minute before throwing both arms high in the air, drawing another wave of cheers from the capacity crowd as he’s bathed in flashbulb light. Cortez hops off of the turnbuckle and removes his bulletproof vest and gold chain and cross, kissing the latter before handing both items to the ref. As his entrance music slowly fades into silence, Cortez retires to a corner and begins to stretch his body out, his eyes locked on the entrance stage.

 

“And welcome back to SWF Lockdown, everyone!” LDP enthusiastically greets the home audience. “This has been a wonderful show thus far, one that every member of the family could enjoy. Wouldn’t you agree, King?”

 

“Sure, everyone except the family members that have an ounce of sense in their heads.” King spits. “I hope you know that right after the show I go to a convent and curse out a bunch of nuns just to make up for my good behavior here.”

 

“Noted.” Pete rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we’ve come to tonight’s Main Event, which pits Todd Cortez against World Heavyweight Champion El Luchadore Magnifico in what is sure to be a fantastic match. If Todd manages to win tonight, it could be huge for him. He’s been somewhat quiet since his win over Landon Maddix at Genesis VI, but beating Magnifico here will quickly put his name back in the minds of SWF fans everywhere.”

 

“Too bad Cortez doesn’t stand a chance in hell at beating ELM tonight.” King scoffs. “I enjoyed his victory over Maddix as much as the next guy, but let’s be realistic here. Magnifico’s been hot for about three months now and hasn’t lost since before Ground Zero. There’s no way some overrated tag team wrestler’s taking him down. I’m sure Magnifico, being the generous guy he is, will go out there and make Todd look good, give him the proverbial ‘rub’…but that’s all.”

 

The crowd sits in silence as Todd stretches, just waiting for the appropriate moment to begin booing like crazy. Suddenly, the lights are cut out, and a moment later…

 

“HEY HEY!”

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOM!!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

The moment comes when Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers, doing so as a burst of red, white, and green pyro explodes upwards from the stage. Illuminated by a single spotlight, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts through the pyro induced smoke, his Mexican flag flapping gracefully behind him and the World Heavyweight Title wrapped around his waist. Boos pour in from every direction as Magnifico locks his eyes on Cortez, his face cold and expressionless.

 

“And now, from Mexico City, Mexico…” Funyon begins. “Weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds…he is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion…EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOORRRREEE MAGNFIICOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Funyon’s announcement only further annoys the crowd, who continue to heckle and taunt the luchadore as he reaches the ring and slides beneath its bottom rope. He pops to his feet in the center of the ring and faces the crowd, ignoring the glaring eyes of Todd Cortez. Sneering, Magnifico looks out over the live audience for a moment…before thrusting his Mexican Flag high into the air, doing so as the lights are suddenly turned back on throughout the arena. The suddenly-illuminated crowd begins their booing anew as Magnifico unwraps the World Title from around his waist and hands it and his flag to the ref. During the exchange, Todd can’t help but steal a glance at the World Title. He knows that what happens in the next twenty minutes or so could determine whether or not he’ll have a shot at becoming the World Champion. The distraction is only momentary, though, as he quickly returns his attention to Magnifico, who’s stretching on the other side of the ring and seems to be pointedly ignoring Cortez.

 

“I know Magnifico has a big match with Spike Jenkins at Ashes 2 Ashes to think about, but you’d think he be at least a little concerned with winning this match first.” LDP comments.

 

“Yeah, because I’m sure that ELM is terrified of Jenkins and can’t concentrate on anything else.” King laughs. “Believe me, whatever inattention you might be seeing is simply a result of an appropriate overconfidence in his own abilities. Don’t you worry your little head over Magnifico, Londogger. He’ll be fine.”

 

Seeing that everything is in order, the referee turns to the timekeeper and signals for the bell.

 

DING DING DING

 

Cortez steps out of his corner and begins to slowly pace around the ring, doing so as Magnifico finally stops stretching and turns his attention towards the Urban Legend. After a moment, ELM starts to pace as well, and the two men begin to circle each other around the ring, slowly approaching the center of the squared circle and one another. When they reach the center of the ring, both men suddenly lunge at one another and lock up, pushing each other back and forth in an effort to gain early control of the match. Cortez succeeds in this case, as he manages to pull Magnifico into a Side Headlock, wrenching away at the luchadore’s neck as he tries to pull his head out of the hold. Realizing that that’s not working, ELM instead steps backwards into the ropes with Cortez, using the momentum from the bounce to push Todd forward and break the hold. Cortez rushes across the ring and towards the far ropes, which he bounces off of before charging back towards Magnifico. As he approaches, the luchadore leaps into the air and extends his legs, looking to wrap them around Todd’s head for a Hurricanrana! However, Cortez manages to duck beneath Magnifico’s legs and continue running, heading for the ropes behind the luchadore as he lands on his feet. Undeterred, ELM rolls onto his back and drives his feet behind him, looking to catch Todd off of the ropes with a Monkey Flip! But Todd manages to stop dead in his tracks before running into Magnifico’s feet, and instead grabs him by his legs and jerks back hard, flipping the luchadore onto his stomach! Moving quickly, Cortez then hops onto Magnifico’s back, pressing his knees between ELM’s shoulder blades! The crowd roars in anticipation as Todd reaches back for Magnifico’s leg, but before he can grab it, the luchadore slips out from beneath Cortez’s knee, rolling away from him and to the outside. Magnifico curses loudly and paces around on the floor as the nearby fans mercilessly boo and taunt the luchadore and Cortez impatiently looks on from inside the ring.

 

“ELM’s already looking a bit frustrated here, and almost certainly got himself a fine for his inappropriate language.” Pete notes, amused. “Todd countered his attempt at a Monkey Flip and nearly locked in the Hook Up, which Magnifico just barely managed to escape.”

 

“Psh. Gimme a break.” King waves his hand dismissively. “So Cortez gets one step into his pathetic excuse for a submission finisher. Big deal. Magnifico was simply caught off guard by Todd’s unprofessional countering of the Monkey Flip.”

 

“What do you mean, unprofessional?” Pete questions, dreading the answer.

 

“It’s a well-known yet unwritten rule that the Monkey Flip is to be sold whenever it is attempted.” King lectures. “To not do so undermines the beauty and grace of the glorious and wholly realistic maneuver.”

 

After a moment’s fuming, Magnifico rolls back into the ring and pops to his feet, where he finds Cortez waiting for him, an infuriating grin on his face. ELM scoffs and begins to pace around the ring once more, joined by Todd a second later. Both men reach the center of the ring once more, where Cortez lunges towards Magnifico with the intention of locking up again. ELM has other plans, however, and instead quickly drives his arm upwards and into Todd’s chin with a European Uppercut. The fans immediately boo the underhanded strike as Cortez stumbles backwards and into the ropes behind him. ELM steps up and grabs him by the arm before pulling Todd off of the ropes and whipping him across the ring. Cortez bounces off of the far ropes and charges back towards Magnifico, who’s bent over in the center of the ring with the idea of hitting Todd with a Back Body Drop. However, Todd once again manages to stop himself before ELM’s plan can come to fruition, this time kicking Magnifico square in the chin right after doing so. A dazed ELM immediately straightens out and drunkenly stumbles backwards a couple steps, surprised and stunned by the force of Todd’s kick. Looking to take advantage, Cortez quickly spins and lashes out with his foot, looking to drive it into the side of Magnifico’s head with a Roundhouse Kick! However, Magnifico’s just lucid enough to duck beneath Cortez’s kick, which he does to the displeasure of the live audience. Todd’s momentum spins him around 180 degrees on the mat, allowing ELM to easily grab Cortez around the waist and pull him into a Rear Waistlock.

 

“No! Magnifico appeared to be reeling after that stiff kick to the chin, but he just managed to dodge Todd’s Roundhouse Kick and trap him in a Rear Waistlock!” LDP excitedly reports.

 

Before Magnifico can do anything with the hold, however, Cortez suddenly and violently throws his elbow backwards, slamming it into ELM’s forehead! The luchadore breaks his hold and stumbles backwards from Todd, who jumps into the air, spins, and shoots his foot out, looking to slam it into Magnifico’s skull with an Enziguri! One can actually see ELM’s eyes widen right before he dives onto his back, Todd’s foot just barely missing the tip of his nose as a disappointed “OHHHH!” rises from the capacity crowd. Magnifico immediately rolls backwards and pops to his feet, while Cortez lunges to his on the other side of the ring. Both men assume tense fighting stances and glare at each other from across the squared circle, doing so as the live crowd cheers and applauds respectfully. The same grin returning to his face, Todd eases up and thumbs his nose at Magnifico, while the luchadore scowls and slowly drops his stiff stance.

 

“Goddamn young’ns, thinking they’re as good as our established and beloved veterans.” King growls. “Cortez better wipe that aggravating smirk off of his face before Magnifico slaps it off.”

 

“How can you blame the guy? He seems to be enjoying himself out there.” Pete remarks. “Cortez has more than matched the World Champion at every turn. He’s gotta feel good about that.”

 

Cortez takes a couple steps towards Magnifico and holds his hand in the air, goading the luchadore to join him in a test of strength. ELM looks at him for a second and laughs in disbelief, but decides to take part regardless. The luchadore steps forward and cautiously locks his hand with Todd’s, before tentatively reaching out with the other one. Cortez extends his own hand and locks it with Magnifico’s, and the second he does so, the luchadore suddenly drives his knee forward, slamming it into Todd’s stomach with untold force. As another wave of irritated boos pours in from the capacity crowd, a smirking Magnifico breaks his hands free and pulls Todd into a Front Facelock, right before lifting Cortez high into the air as if for a Vertical Suplex. However, Todd manages to wriggle out of ELM’s grip as he becomes perpendicular to the ground, landing on his feet behind the luchadore and facing the same direction as him. Before he can even turn around, Cortez steps to his side, hooks ELM’s left leg with his right foot and grabs him by the back of the neck. Todd then swiftly and suddenly falls onto his back, jerking Magnifico down with him and slamming the back of his neck into the canvas with a Russian Leg Sweep! Not pausing for instant, Cortez immediately rolls to his feet and hops into the air, extending his leg on the way down and dropping it across Magnifico’s neck with a quick Leg Drop! The pleased fans release an impressive pop for the Leg Sweep/Drop combo, and only grow louder when Todd slides onto ELM’s chest, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Magnifico kicks out shortly after two, silencing much of the live audience.

 

“Magnifico caught Todd off guard with a…ahem…well-timed knee strike,” Pete begins, “But he wasn’t able to capitalize, as Cortez manages to reverse whatever he had planned into his signature Russian Leg Sweep slash Leg Drop combo.”

 

“Great, a combination of two shitty moves from the eighties. Maybe next show we could get Cortez to face the Iron Sheik and see who has the more outdated moveset.” King scoffs.

 

“King, not three minutes ago you were extolling the virtues of the Monkey Flip.” Pete snaps. King grumbles something in response, but leaves it at that.

 

Cortez rolls off of Magnifico and grabs him by the hair, using the grip to painfully pull the luchadore to his feet as he stands. Once ELM’s on his feet, Todd leads him over to the nearby corner and bashes his face into its top turnbuckle, much to the delight of the crowd. Magnifico falls back-first into the corner and slumps against it, putting up little resistance as Todd lays into him with a variety of stiff punches to the luchadore’s face and forehead. ELM is nearly falling out of the corner when Cortez pulls him out of it and whips him across the ring, sending the luchadore rushing towards the far corner. Magnifico crashes back-first and hard into the corner’s turnbuckles, the impact further stunning the already-flummoxed luchadore. He stumbles drunkenly towards the center of the ring, cueing Cortez to break into a sprint on the other side of the ring and charge towards Magnifico as fast as he can. As he approaches, Todd suddenly leaps into the air, aiming his entire body at the luchadore’s side, looking to take Magnifico down with the Hollow Point! Mere milliseconds before impact, ELM abruptly dives out of the way, suddenly leaving Cortez bereft of a target! Todd awkwardly crashes elbow-first into the steel pole of the corner Magnifico occupied a moment ago, the fans releasing a sympathetic “OHHHH!” as Cortez cries out in pain and falls to the canvas, clutching his elbow in agony.

 

Pete winces. “Gyah. Todd was charging at Magnifico at ridiculous speed, and dove at him with unbridled force. I can’t imagine the pain he must be feeling after his elbow hit that steel pole so hard.”

 

“Well, I can, and I’m reveling in it.” King counters, a warm smile on his face. “Serves him right for trying to take advantage of a slightly-woozy Magnifico. And doing it with a reckless, violent dive that doesn’t take a shred of talent. The nerve.”

 

ELM climbs back to his feet and sees Todd writhing in pain on the mat. Grinning to himself at his good turn of fortune, Magnifico confidently strides over to Cortez and stomps directly on his elbow, drawing a wave of indignant boos from the annoyed audience. Greatly enjoying their reaction, ELM continues to kick away at Todd’s agonized elbow, doing so as Cortez tries to climb to his feet through the stomps. When Todd gets to his hands and knees, Magnifico grabs him by the arm connected to his throbbing elbow and jerks him to his feet, before using the grip to whip Cortez across the ring and towards the far ropes. He bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Magnifico, who greets Cortez by lashing out with his arm, aiming it directly at Todd’s chest for a Knife-Edge Chop! However, Cortez manages to roll beneath Magnifico’s extended arm, pops to his feet, and spins to face the luchadore. ELM’s ready and waiting, though, and immediately delivers a stiff kick to Todd’s gut, doubling him over in the center of the ring. Magnifico then steps to Cortez’s side, grabs him by the arm, and falls onto his back, pulling Todd down with him and slamming his damaged elbow into the canvas with a Single Arm DDT! A wave of taunts and curses pour in from the angry crowd as Todd clutches his elbow and rolls away from Magnifico, his face twisted in agony as pain flows freely through his elbow.

 

“Looks like Magnifico’s decided on a gameplan.” Pete surmises. “After Todd missed the Hollow Point and unintentionally rammed his elbow into a steel pole, Magnifico’s done nothing but work that body part over.”

 

“It’s a fine strategy, no doubt about that.” King helpfully adds. “Both of Todd’s submission finishers require the use of both arms; if one arm is rendered useless, it’ll at least significantly weaken the effectiveness of either submission, should Cortez get lucky enough to lock it in.”

 

ELM takes his time climbing back to his feet, smiling broadly as he watches Todd grit through the pain and listens to the crowd shout and curse their disapproval. Once he’s standing, Magnifico delivers a few token stomps to Cortez’s elbow before abruptly extending his arm and dropping back to the mat, driving his elbow into Todd’s on the way down. Cortez releases a hiss of pain and rolls away from Magnifico as the luchadore bounds back to his feet, the smile on his face growing larger and more cheerful by the second. ELM grabs Todd by the arm and jerks him to his feet, and once he’s there, the luchadore suddenly drives his arm forward, slamming it into Cortez’s chest with a Knife-Edge Chop!

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Twenty thousand North Dakotans shout in unison despite themselves as Cortez stumbles away from Magnifico, a hand on his stinging chest. He falls back-first into the nearby corner, where ELM steps up to him, lashes his arm out once more, and...

 

CHOP!

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Todd slumps against the corner’s turnbuckles, reeling as he struggles to deal with the constant ache in his elbow and the sudden stinging pain in his chest.

 

“Just to show Todd who’s boss, he gets off the Knife-Edge Chops he had tried earlier in the contest.” King cheerfully hypothesizes.

 

“Well, now that Magnifico is done re-asserting his dominance...” Pete begins, rolling his eyes, “Maybe he can get a little bit more serious about this match. Todd Cortez is not one to be taken lightly.”

 

“I’m amazed you can say that with a straight face, Pete.” King chuckles. “Anyway, don’t rush Magnifico. He’s going to take his time with Cortez and enjoy slowly and painfully ripping Todd’s arm apart. ELM needs to let off a little steam, and this is a perfect opportunity for him to do it.”

 

Shortly after landing his second Chop, Magnifico grabs Todd by the arm, pulls him out of the corner, and whips him across the ring. Cortez charges across the canvas with ELM running only a few steps behind him. Todd turns and crashes back-first into the corner, and immediately throws his foot into the air, slamming it into the chin of the charging luchadore! A mighty cheer rises from the crowd as Magnifico turns and stumbles away from the corner, a hand on his chin. Meanwhile, Todd quickly hops backwards onto the second turnbuckle, and then onto the top one. As an infuriated ELM spins back towards Cortez, Cortez springs off of the top rope, bathed in flashbulb light as he flies towards the awestruck luchadore! Todd wraps his arm around Magnifico’s neck in mid-air, spins around, and then falls onto his back, pulling ELM down with him and slamming the his skull into the canvas with a Springboard Tornado DDT! The live audience roars its approval as Todd rolls onto Magnifico and hooks his leg, doing so as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, quickly silencing much of the crowd.

 

“What a phenomenal move from Todd Cortez!” An impressed Pete cries. “His Springboard Tornado DDT takes Magnifico down and drastically shifts this match’s momentum!”

 

“Yeah, from being dominated by Magnifico to not for a few seconds.” King expands. “Todd can bound off the ropes and do all the flashy-yet-ultimately-worthless moves he wants; it doesn’t change the fact that he’s wasting all our time by even being out there.”

 

Undeterred by the lack of a pinfall, Todd grabs Magnifico by the arm and stands, pulling ELM to his feet as he does so. Cortez then uses his grip to whip the luchadore across the ring, sending him rushing across the canvas and towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Cortez, and as he approaches, Todd steps forward and shoots his hands out, hooking them under the running luchadore’s arms! In one swift motion, Cortez then quickly hoists Magnifico into the air, beginning the Sitout Spinebuster as the crowd roars in anticipation! But before he can bring ELM down, Magnifico interlocks his hands and slams them directly into Todd’s forehead with a Double Axe Handle, stunning Cortez and allowing the luchadore to break free of his grip! Magnifico lands on his feet directly in front of Todd and immediately grabs him by leg and under the arm, using the grip to hoist Cortez into the air as if for a Scoop Slam! As he lifts, though, ELM twists Todd’s body around, revealing his attempt at La Dia de los Muertos! But as Magnifico twists, Cortez manages to wriggle free of his grip, sliding down ELM’s back to the great delight of the live audience! As Todd slides, he reaches up and wraps his arm around Magnifico’s neck, trapping ELM in an Inverted Facelock as he lands on his feet! Todd then falls backwards and roughly pulls Magnifico down with him, right before wrapping his legs around ELM’s body and finishing the second setup step of the Street Dreams! Cortez then takes his left arm and wraps it around Magnifico’s, locking the luchadore into the submission as a mighty pop rises from the capacity crowd!

 

“Street Dreams! Street Dreams!” Pete excitedly reports. “Cortez went for the Sitout Spinebuster, which Magnifico tried to reverse into La Dia de los Muertos, only to have Todd reverse that into his signature modified Dragon Sleeper!”

 

“What makes you think he’ll have that ridiculous submission locked in for more than five seconds?” King growls. “His arm with the damaged elbow is the one wrapped around Magnifico’s head. I imagine his tolerance for pain, which is comparable to a little girl’s, will soon give out and force him to release the hold.”

 

Immediately after the submission is locked in, the ref falls to the mat and gets right in Magnifico's face, asking him if he wants to submit. ELM responds with a very rude “No, you idiot!” right before crying out in pain from Todd tearing away at muscle and cartilage in his neck. However, Magnifico realizes that Cortez’s damaged arm is the one doing said tearing, and intends to take advantage of it. ELM begins to thrash his neck and head around wildly while pounding away at Todd’s agonized elbow, trying to put as much strain on it as humanly possible! Cortez grits his teeth and growls in pain, doing his best to maintain the hold despite the agony plaguing his damaged elbow. Seeing the strain that Todd is under, the fans begin to cheer and applaud, growing louder and louder the longer the submission is applied. It’s all for naught, however, as Cortez shouts out in pain and frustration as Magnifico suddenly jerks his head free of Todd’s weakened hold! ELM then immediately begins to drive his elbow backwards and into the side of Cortez’s head, still needing to escape the other two parts of the submission! Realizing that it’s a lost cause at this point, Cortez unhooks his legs and releases Magnifico’s left arm, before rolling away from the luchadore as the disappointed fans boo in unison.

 

“Annnnnnd there we go.” King gleefully says. “Good on Todd for maintaining the hold as long as he could and making the match at least mildly interesting, though.”

 

“How generous of you, King.” Pete groans. “However, let’s not forget that Cortez had the Street Dreams in for a quite a while, which was sure to have done some damage to Magnifico’s neck. ELM had already taken a stiff blow to his neck with the Springboard Tornado DDT mere moments before Todd locked in the Street Dreams.”

 

Todd and ELM lie on opposite sides of the ring; Cortez shaking off the dizziness from the strikes to his head and the overwhelming pain in his elbow, Magnifico still considerably dazed from the Street Dreams. After a few moments, both men begin to climb to their feet, Magnifico moving slightly quicker than Cortez thanks to Todd’s throbbing elbow. As such, ELM gets to his feet while Todd is just reaching one knee, giving Magnifico time to get in front of Cortez and await his arising. When Todd does stand, ELM immediately boots him in the gut and doubles him over, allowing Magnifico to easily pull Cortez into a Front Facelock! But before he can do whatever it is he planned on doing, Todd suddenly breaks into a charge, bulldozing forward and pushing the surprised luchadore backwards with disconcerting speed! The ride comes to an end when Cortez drives Magnifico’s back into the turnbuckles of a nearby corner, causing ELM to cry out and arch his back in pain while releasing his grip on Todd’s head! Magnifico stumbles out of the corner as Cortez takes a few steps backwards, wanting there to be some space between them and the ropes. Once ELM stumbles to Todd’s desired position, he suddenly kicks Magnifico in the gut and pulls him into a Standing Head-Scissors, drawing an anticipatory pop from the overexcited crowd! Cortez lifts ELM into the air and hoists him onto his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the pain caused by the sudden pressure on his elbow!

 

“Todd looks to be setting up for the Neckwrecker!” Pete speculates. “With Magnifico’s neck already damaged, this might be enough to put ELM down for good!”

Todd shifts his grip so that he can grab Magnifico around the neck, which is the window of opportunity ELM needed to wriggle free of Cortez’s grasp! ELM does just that, sliding down Todd’s back and landing feet-first on the canvas, facing away from Cortez. The moment his feet hit the ground, Magnifico reaches back and hooks both of Todd’s arms as if for a Backslide! A wave of angry boos pours in from the mortified audience as ELM turns towards the nearby corner and runs at it, pulling Cortez with him for the Baja California Crusher!

 

“Or, Magnifico could effortlessly reverse the Neckwrecker and turn it into his devastating finisher.” King smugly counters, now that it’s convenient for him to do so.

 

“No! ELM manages to slip out of Todd’s grip and is going for the Baja California Crusher!” Pete shouts, pointedly ignoring King. “If Cortez can’t find a way to reverse this, his chances at winning this match could disappear!”

 

ELM runs up the corner’s turnbuckles, the crowd only growing louder and angrier as he does so. When he reaches the top one, Magnifico pushes off of it and begins to flip backwards over Cortez, ready to land the Crusher and finish this match. But just as he begins to flip, Todd, in one swift motion, breaks his arms free, reaches up, wraps his arms around Magnifico’s neck, and then sits out, pulling ELM down with him and driving the back of his neck into his shoulder with the Neckwrecker! The surprised yet delighted fans release a massive pop as Magnifico flops lifelessly to the mat, unmoving save for the spasmic jerk of an arm or leg. Todd lies but a foot or two away, clutching his elbow in agony.

 

“Holy God, what a reversal!” Pete cries, slapping his forehead in disbelief. “Cortez manages to break his arms free in mid-air and just yank Magnifico out of the sky, slamming his neck into Todd’s shoulder with the Neckwrecker! Cortez gets off the move despite ELM’s best efforts, and now might be mere seconds away from winning this match!”

 

The fans remain ridiculously loud, trying their best to get Todd over to Magnifico and pin the sorry son of a bitch. After a few moments, Cortez turns onto his stomach and claws his way over to the luchadore, who hasn’t moved a muscle since being hit with the Neckwrecker. Todd slowly, agonizingly crawls over to Magnifico and hurls his body onto the luchadore’s, causing the crowd to somehow grow even louder and more raucous. As Cortez lays motionless on Magnifico, the ref slides into position and begins counting…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRRRRRRNNNNNOOOOOOO!! Magnifico throws his foot on the nearby ropes at the last possible millisecond! As the fans noisily voice their disapproval, a confused Cortez looks up and at the referee, who gestures wildly at ELM’s outstretched foot. Todd curses loudly and slowly rolls off of the luchadore, thinking for sure that he had the match won.

 

“How DARE Cortez speak in that manner!” King gasps. “There are children watching, for God’s sake!”

 

“King, you’re the one who goes and blasphemes on his free time.” Pete counters. “In any case, Todd’s frustration is certainly justified here. Had Magnifico not been so close to the ropes, there would have been a good chance that of Cortez getting the pinfall just now.”

 

Cortez slowly climbs to his feet after a few moments rest, doing so as Magnifico stirs for the first time and begins climbing to his. Todd insists on helping the luchadore out, however, as he grabs ELM by the hair and painfully pulls him to his feet. The second Magnifico’s standing, Todd drives his knee directly into his gut, immediately knocking ELM back to one knee to the obvious pleasure of the live audience. Magnifico’s not like that for long, however, as Cortez quickly pulls him into a Standing Head-Scissors once again, this time wrapping his arms around ELM’s waist and bending over him. With the fans roaring in anticipation, Todd takes a deep breath and then leaps over ELM’s back, ready to finish him off with the Riot Act Plus! But as Cortez is passing over his body, Magnifico suddenly stands up, reaches back over his shoulders and grabs Todd by the ankles and leaving him stranded hanging over the luchadore’s back! Cortez’s arms are still wrapped around Magnifico’s waist, and before he has a chance to unwrap them and escape, ELM suddenly sits out, pulling Todd down with him and driving the top of his skull directly into the canvas with a Double Leg Back Piledriver! The shocked fans release a massive “OHHHH!” as Cortez crumples to the canvas, seemingly knocked out by the awkward and devastating blow to his neck.

 

“Now THAT’S a reversal! Yeah!” King jubilantly shouts. “Todd’s counter of the Baja California Crusher was nothing compared to what we just witnessed!”

 

“I hate to say it, King, but I really can’t argue with you.” Pete admits, impressed despite himself. “Magnifico’s timing needed to be perfect to pull that off, and that’s exactly what it was. The Riot Act Plus is not easily countered, but ELM found a way to do it.”

 

ELM sits above Cortez for a moment, breathing heavily, twenty thousand North Dakotans booing the hell out of him. He looks over the irate crowd for a moment, smiles broadly, and then lies backwards, draping his back over Todd’s chest. The ref slides into position and Magnifico reaches back and leisurely hooks the Cortez’s leg, doing so while the live audience boos as loud as they know how…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!

 

DING DING DING

 

“Your winner, by pinfall…” Funyon announces, “EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOORRRREEE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers once more, not that you’d be able to hear it through the ridiculous amount of noise the furious crowd is making. Reveling in their response, Magnifico, his expression unchanged, casually stands up and allows the referee to thrust his hand into the air. ELM reaches down with the other and grabs one of Todd’s hands, pulling the limp limb upwards and then shaking it vigorously. This doesn’t endear himself to the live audience any, who somehow grow louder in voicing their displeasure as he drops Cortez’s hand and snatches his away from the referee.

 

“Magnifico’s a better man than I for being so adherent to these Family Friendly Rules.” King observes. “Just look at that sportsmanship, making sure Todd has his hand raised and then shaking it. What a role model.”

 

“Yeah, a great example for the kids.” Pete scoffs. “Well, I may not be happy with the result, and the fans here sure as hell aren’t either, but there’s no denying that it was a great match. Cortez was damn close to winning this contest more than once, but it just wasn’t his night.”

 

“That’s a blanket excuse if I’ve ever heard one.” King counters. “The fact of the matter is, Mags is better than Todd Cortez. Todd shouldn’t feel bad about that, though; Mags is better than everyone else in this fed, too.”

 

Pete sighs. “In any case, we’ve run out of time. Good night, everyone! Thanks for tuning in! Watch Smarkdown!”

 

The last image broadcasted is that of El Luchadore Magnifico, standing over Cortez and staring at him with a disturbing smile on his face…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SWF Lockdown 10-28-05