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The camera pans in on the packed Joe Louis Arena, the entire place a sea of red and white as we arrive for the opening of SWF LOCKDOWN! The camera focuses on the center of the ring, where Funyon stands, his head bent down towards the ground, as the lights begin to turn down. A spotlight comes in, and the arena quickly begins to quiet down.


“Three days ago, the great Eddie Guerrero passed away due to heart failure,” he starts out solemnly, “Eddie was an inspiration for many people, fighting off his past mistakes to show people that a man can truly change.”


The arena is silent, many people bowing their heads down.


“Even with only 38 years on this Earth, he was able to touch so many lives, and entertain millions around the world. It is only fitting that we, as a fed that strives to work the hardest, to honor a man who set the bar so high. Thanks, Eddie, for all you gave us.”


The spotlight fades away into darkness, and a lonely ring-bell begins to toll in dimmed lights.















































The last ring hangs in the still air, everyone taking in one final goodbye to one of the greatest wrestlers to ever live. Soon, a cheer comes out, crescendoing into a wave of applause and chants for “EDDIE! EDDIE!” as the lights begin to come back. A familiar techno beat begins to blare over the Joe’s stereo system, and all the regulars at Joe Louis begin clapping along with it as Funyon once again takes center stage.


“And now, what you’ve all been waiting for…”











Edited by Justice

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The Smarks Wrestling Federation Presents...



**Family Friendly Rules are in effect!**




Well, Ashes to Ashes is now dust in the wind, and it's time to move on to the SWF's newest tradition to kick off the winter...


The Cold Front Classic!


And there's no colder place to start it all off than the home of the Detroit Red Wings, Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan!





Spike Jenkins v. Jay Hawke (SWF International Champion) v. TORU (SWF Tag Champion) v. the Wildchild v. The Masked Crusader v. Candace "The Joshi Dragon" Okimura v. JJ Johnson (SWF Cruiserweight Champion) v. Johnny Dangerous v. Manson

-> The Cold Front Classic is back! This time, it's for a shot at the World Title at Clusterf**k, so as not to rush everyone through the hock-I mean, Holiday Season. Last year, Landon Maddix was able to make it through the tournament and defeat the heavily favored Toxxic for the World Title. Now this year, 9 wrestlers will have the same chance to go up for the the World Title on the SWF's second largest PPV of the year!

Rules: Over-the-top eliminations, everything else is normal rules. Only 8 people will make it into the tourney, and it will be seeded top vs. bottom.



Landon Maddix vs. Bruce Blank

-> Being in Detroit, there's no better place to be than the Hockeytown Cafe, situated near the Fox Theatre and Comerica Park.


The SWF heartily agrees, though for much different reasons.


See, a cafe full of die-hard hocky fans is the BEST place for a wrestling match to take place, particularly one that you have to tear stuff up to win. Because of this crazy logic, Bruce Blank will be defending his title against Landon Maddix. Both are fresh off a loss from Ashes to Ashes, with one looking to gain a title while the other is looking to keep it. Who will the survivor of the Hockeytown challenge?


Rules: The Hardcore Belt is hidden somewhere inside the restaurant. Whoever finds it first wins, and you have the freedom to do whatever necessary to get it. Just remember: At this time, the Red Wings will be playing an away game against the Calgary Flames, so the place will likely be packed with rabid hockey fans.



Wes Davenport and ‘The Rage’ Jason Von Dierch

-> Say what you will about washed-up actors, but Wes Davenport is still a winner, and he has the Ashes to Ashes victory to prove it. Sadly, Jason Von Dierch can't say the same, and didn't like seeing Davenport get the easy match on the PPV. Well, CC understands that sentiment, and wants 'The Rage' to get a chance at Davenport to vent a bit.


Rules: Standard Cruiserweight match. 20 counts on the outside and no tossing your opponents over the top rope.



Akira ‘The Divine Wind’ Kaibatsu vs. ‘The Magician’ Matt Myers

-> While Akira might be one of the more family friendly wrestlers in the SWF, nothing can top the kid appeal of Matt Myers' new gimmick! Due to an unnoticed clause in his resigning contract, Matt's gimmick is completely under the control of CC, and thusly tonight he'll be the family-friendly face, 'the Magician' Matt Myers!


Rules: Standard Match.


Also appearing...

Max King! But what will he be doing? Talking? Wrestling? Talking and wrestling?




And what of Stryke? Will he be doing anything tonight?


Tune in to find out!

Edited by Justice

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Ah . . .


Ah . . .






Lit’s “I’m in over my head” as the SWF’s only rabbit pulling superstar makes his way out of the curtain to a big pop, top hat and all.


Pete: He can saw you in half, and he can make you disappear!


King: And he can fu— err, beat you up.


Myers makes his way down the ramp, accepting high fives from his family oriented fans. They love him. He’s so fricken over! Myers slides into the ring,


The PA system silences Myers music, with nothing to replace it. Despite no music playing, it’s hardly silent. The massicve pops from the Detroit fans make up for any noise you may want.


Mr. Kobe is first out of the gate, getting a few feet out in front. The pudgy Japanese turns his waist, back to the curtain, and out comes the masked phenomenon, Akira Kaibatsu.


The couple walk their way down to the Lockdown ring, Akira shakes his arms out and checks his tape, fixing his elbow pads.


The Divine Wind swirls his neck around, and slides into the ring, mounting the turnbuckle, gazing out at the Detroit fans, and then gets back down.


Funyon: To my left, in the fake tuxedo t-shirt, fighting out of Honolulu Hawaii by way of New Haven Connecticut . . . standing at 6’3 . . . THE MAGICIAN . . . MATT . . . MYERRRSSSSS.


And to my right, in the blue and white trunks, fighting out of Sendai Japan, standing at an even six feet tall . . . he is ‘THE DIVINE WIND’ . . . AKIRAAA . . . KAIIIIBAAATSUUUU!!


Pete: Akira has got to get back on the winning track here.


King: Definitely, coming off a loss at Ashes 2 Ashes where he thought he won isn’t great momentum.


Pete: And only 2 weeks before that he was this to winning the SWF cruiserweight championship.


The two grapplers square off, staring each other down to start the match. Akira approaches The Magician, and throws a kick to the leg, causing Matt to jump up on one leg and rub it, but soon gets right back to a balanced position.


Akira doesn’t wait to get back to a stare down, and runs at Myers, going for a clothesline, but Matt ducks. Kaibatsu spins around, and Myers is ready for it, and hits an arm drag. Akira gets up quickly, but Myers is still ready for the guy, and hits a hip toss. Akira no sells this as well, but Myers is still ready for the guy, and drop kicks him out of the ring.


Akira is trying to catch his breath. Myers has no breath that needs catching though, and he runs towards the ropes, and flips over. Akira sees it coming though, and moves out of the way, thinking he outsmarted the Magician. He was wrong. Matt held onto the ropes, and is standing on the apron now. When Akira turns back around, Matt leaps off and hits a hurracanrana.


Pete: Quick pace early.


King: It’s not like Akira to start off this poorly.


Pete: Well, he is wrestling Myers. He’s a MAGICIAN~!~


Myers walks over to Akira and throws open hand slaps at Kaibatsu. Akira tries to trot away, but Myers is following him, and throws him back into the ring. Matt lifts Akira, and tries to whip him into the corner, but Akira reverses. The Divine Wind then hustles over to the corner for a clothesline, but the Magician gets out of the way. Myers ends up behind Akira, and dropkicks his face into the corner. Akira goes down hard and Myers makes a cover.






No! Akira kicks out with little chance of a 3.


Matt lifts Akira, and once again tries to send him into the corner, but is reversed once more. Akira once again goes for a clothesline in the corner, but Matt gets his foot up and boots Akira. This allows Matt to get on the second rope. Myers leaps off and . . .




Matt hits a side effect off of the second rope!


Pete: This is totally uncharacteristic of Akira to get his ass handed to him in the opening minutes of this match . . .


King: Yeah, even against ELM he had some fighting spirit.


Cover by Myers






Akira kicks out again, showing that there was no chance he was going to lose there.


Myers decides to wait for Akira to get up, as opposed to getting right back on the offensive. When Kaibatsu finally does make his way to his feet, The Magician leaps into the air, and tries another Hurricanrana, but The Divine Wind knocks him off his shoulders. This is followed up by a huge Kappo kick from Akira, sending Myers all the way across the ring!


Pete: Oh, there we go.


King: That was one hell of a kick. This kid’s stiff, I’ll give ‘em that.


Akira lifts up Myers, and then scoop slams him. Kaibatsu, leans backwards, and bounces off the ropes, coming back and hitting a power drive elbow. Makes a cover






. . . This time it’s Myers turn to kick out with attitude.


Akira lifts up Myers by the head, and uses his left hand to knife edge chop him. Kaibatsu then puts The Magician in a 3/4 chauncery hold. Better known as the cravate.


From the cravate, Akira hits a snapmare. Following this up was a springboard crossbody splah!


Pete: Great high flying cruiser action in this match!


King: Technically Myers is a pound to heavy to be a cruiser.


Pete: Pfft. You could burn that off playing baseball. But anyways, Akira makes a cover on the beautiful cross body.








Akira wastes no time, lifting Myers up, and butterflying the arms of the Magician. Akira then thrusts backwards, and hits a butterfly suplex, but he holds on for a butterfly hold.


King: interesting submission from Akira


Pete: This definitely reflect his puro style.


Akira holds it in there for a bit of time, and then let’s go, and makes a cover.








Akira wastes no time at all, lifting Myers up, and European uppercuts him into the corner.


Pete: Man, he switches from Puro to Euro pretty quick.


Akira hits another knife edge chop in the corner. Akira throws Myers into the other corner, but Myers reverses it, trying to send Akira over, but Akira pulls Myers back over. When it was all said in done, Myers leaped over on the ring apron, and bounced up to the turnbuckle, facing backwards.


Akira kicks up at the rope, crotching Myers. Akira then goes tot he top rope, and hits a huge super back drop!


Pete: What a move there!


King: lots of impact on that move!


Kaibatsu makes a cover, nonchalantly.






THRNoope.Myers rolls the shoulder up.


The frustrated puroresu stalks Myers, as the Magician slowly makes his way to his feet. Before he can get there though, Kaibatsu runs up to Matt, and hits a shining gamenguri! Akira hooks the leg for a cover.








Akira, never discouraged, picks up Myers by the hair, and puts in a cravate. He runs to the turnbuckle, starts to make the backflip . . . but No! Myers holds the cruiser up in the air, and drops him on his head for a modified reverse brainbuster!


Pete: The heck do you call that?


King: The . . . The top hat buster?


Pete: Works for me.


Myers opts not to go for the cover however, climbing to the top rope.


Pete: Gonna see a high risk maneuver here!


King: What else from the magician?


Myers holds his hands over his head, and thrusts his weight forward, rotating for a 450 splash!


Pete: It’s the Magic Wand-ton!


King: Err . . .


Pete: You may remember it as the Less Than Splash.


King: Ah.


Myers holds on for the cover, hooking the leg when he made his way down.






















Akira rolls his shoulders up, keeping himself in the match up. Myers looks at the ref not quite angry, but frustrated, and then goes back on the offense.


Myers lifts Akira by the mask, and then slides his hand down Akira’s body, locking around his back. Myers throws Akira backwards for the Belly to Belly suplex.


Myers rushes over to the fallen mask-wearer and drops his legs for a standing leg drop, and then goes for the cover.









Akira once again rolls his shoulder up, making sure he isn’t knocked off by this guy.


Myers puts a ground front face lock on Akira, and carries him to his feet. The Magician squeezes Kaibatsu’s head from here, until dropping down to the ground for the Abra KadabraDT.


Pete: Formerly known as the Operation Ivy Drop, for those of you not familiar with current Matt Myers happenings.


King: Of course. Because everyone keeps track of the SWF Magician.


Matt makes a cover, hooking both legs, glancing at the ref as he does so.




















Pete: This is why Akira has expanded from the East to the West. No one can keep him down.


Myers refuses to give up, and lifts Akira, and then whips him into the corner.


Myers throws his arm out at Akira.















Myers throws a few elbows at Akira, and tries to whip him into the other corner, but Akira reverses it, and Myers hits the buckle hard. Akira screams as he runs at The Magician, hitting a huge Koppou kick.


Pete: What impact on the kick!


King: Akira certainly does know what to do with those legs.


Akira lifts Myers by the hair, and then kicks him in the gut. Akira butteflies the arms of Myers, and swings to his left.


King: It came from Sendai!


Pete: Two big moves from Akira in a row here.


Akira makes a cover, hooking the leg.






















Pete: Wow, both men hitting huge moves, yet can’t keep each other down.


King: Well, it hasn’t been progressive. The match just started, and they hit some signature moves. I’m not surprised really.


Akira is never discouraged with his offense though, lifting Myers. Akira puts Myers in a front facelock, and thrusts backwards, hitting a suplex.


Pete: Standard vertical suplex, nothing special.


But Akira isn’t done. He swings his hips, holding onto Myers as he stands up for another Vertical suplex.


King: Shades of the late, great Eddy Guerrero.


Akira thrusts up, and hits one more Suplex, completing the Three Amigos.


Pete: Viva La Eddy.


Akira finally finishes, and goes for a cover.




















Referee Nick Soapdish raises Akira’s hand in victory, as Funyon gets on the mic.


Funyon: Here is your winner . . . ‘THE DIVINE WIND’ AKIRAAAA KAAIIIBATSUUUUU



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Ben Hardy catches up with Bruce Blank backstage just moments before he has to leave the arena and head over to the Hockeytown café for his Hardcore title defense.


Ben Hardy: “Mr. Blank, Mr. Blank you said you had a statement to make before your match”


Bruce turns and looks at the camera, allowing it a good close shot of his mangled face before he begins to talk.


Bruce: “In a couple of moments I get to escape the shackles of “Family Friendly” and take the first step towards washing off the mark that Janus has left on me! In a moment I fight for the Ultra Violent title for the SIXTH time in my short time in his federation!”


Hardy just kinda looks at him, not sure if Bruce is expecting him to ask him a question or what right now.


Bruce: “Janus put me down, but us Southern boys are too stubborn to STAY down for good! Especially in a federation like the SWF that’s overrun by rejects from the midget division”


Ben Hardy: “Midget division?”


Bruce: “A bunch of little twerps who should stick to playing leprechauns and goblins on TV and leave the wrestling to real men! I’m so sick and tired of the “Love of the little man” that seems to be so prevalent! And unlike most people who are just talk I’ll do something about it! Starting at Smarkdown I’ll be having an open “Cruiserweight challenge”


Ben Hardy: “What the hell is an open Cruiserweight challenge” Bruce?”


Bruce: “Any man who’s within the cruiserweight limit can step into the ring and get an instant shot at my belt! I’ll snap them like the stick figures they are!!”


Ben Hardy: “You could potentially lose to Landon tonight and thus not have a title, have you thought about that?”


Bruce stares at Ben like he was a retard


Bruce: “No Ben I wasn’t aware that I could lose the title in a title match! (under his breath) Idiot. The Cruiserweight challenge will happen next week no matter what, if I don’t have the title then I’ll put $10,000 on the line instead. I even got the first challenger confirmed just moments ago”


Ben Hardy: “Really? Who have you got? Jay Hawke? J.J. Johnson? Wilchild?”


Bruce stares at the camera as he slowly says “Jushin….”Thunder”… Liger”


Ben’s eyes bug out at the comments, could it really be true that the guy who pushed the juniorheavyweight scene to new heights was coming to the SWF for Smarkdown?


Ben Hardy: “You’re kidding!”


Bruce: “Look at me Ben – Do I look like I’m kidding”


Before Ben can say anything Bruce stomps off, heading to the Hockytown café for his title match later tonight

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Lockdown comes back from the commercial break, with fans still recovering from their brief meeting with the Magician. The card is still young, and some names on it aren’t particularly recognizable, but the fans cheer anyway, because it’s the SWF, and they always cheer.


“Welcome back to Family Friendly Lockdown!” Longdogger bellows, “We’re going to get right on with the show since tonight it’s a doozy!”


“’Doozy’? You are such a wuss now. I hope they’re paying you a tonne for this.”


“More than you at least. Anyway, it time for our next match! Featuring two newcomers to the SWF, from two drastically different backgrounds.”


“Yes, the lone wolf from Germany and the d-grade celebrity from Beverly Hills! They’re backgrounds may differ wildly, but their styles are very similar.”


“Exactly, King. From what I’ve seen of both men, they wrestle a very stiff and powerful style, though the size difference between the two is considerable. Tonight they’ll lock up in a Cruiserweight rules environment, which means anything could happen! Except someone being thrown over the top rope, of course.”


Suddenly, the thousands of fans hear a beat come through the speakers, as clapping and the pounding of feet is heard. OK Go’s “Get Over It” begins to play, and Wes Davenport wastes no time walking out onto centre stage, bowing before the audience as a spotlight comes down, illuminating the former actor as he walks down the ramp way. In the ring, Funyon prepares his introductions…


“Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is a CRUISERWEIGHT RULES match! In this match, neither man can be thrown over the top rope, and the count out limit is raised to 20! Introducing first, from Hollywood, California. He stands 6 foot 6 and weighs in at two hundred and fifty five pounds… please welcome, WES DAVENPORT!”


“Davenport may look impressive, but don’t let that fool you,” King grumbles, “what matters is what you can do in the ring, and Wes hasn’t sold me yet.”


“He’s barely even had the chance! But, he’s coming off a solid first win in the SWF against Matt Myers, and looks to solidify his place as a man to watch over the coming months. Whether for his in ring exploits, or his drinking exploits!”


Davenport begins to warm up, hearing a portion of the crowd cheer for him, but he tries to remain cool and contain his urge to blow them kisses. The hard, aggressive sound of Rammstein breaks him from his routine as he turns to the entranceway as his opponent Jason Von Dierch makes his way out.


“AND his opponent! From Hamburg, Germany! He stands 5 foot 9 and weighs in at two hundred and six pounds… he is the RAGE, he is… JASON VON DIERCH!”


“Now here’s a man you know will bring the goods,” King says. “I’ve seen this guy in action, and I feel sorry for whoever has to come up against The Rage!”


“You’d think he’d have ‘Rage Against the Machine’ for his music, wouldn’t you?”


“Don’t be silly, all Germans listen to Rammstein!”


“You’re a master of foreign relations, King. Moving on, Dierch, despite his smallish stature, is no man to take lightly. His strikes and submissions are notorious for their teeth shattering and limb breaking. Davenport better match him in that department, or this will be a whitewash.”


Dierch hits the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope and leaping top his feet right in front of Davenport. Dierch stares a hole through Wes, while Davenport tries to do the same, but the uneasy shifting of the feet is a dead giveaway to his nervousness. Dierch smiles before backing away, pounding his fists into his hands and loosening his neck, eager to do battle.


“And we’re off!” Pete yells.




Wes shifts uncomfortably on his side of the ring, which now includes one corner of the ring as The Rage encroaches slowly, making sure to stare his opponent right in the eyes. Despite his earlier high, Wes now feels reality catching up with him as he fears for his safety, but with the fans in the background actually cheering, wanting to see him perform, he realizes he has to suck it up.


Dierch, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice the fans at all. All he sees is a target placed right on Wes’ forehead, and another stepping stone in his way to success. Without warning, Jason advances, grappling with the former actor and grabbing a hold of his shoulders, grinding him against the corner. Wes almost cries out, but bites his tongue as a few fans at ringside cheer him on, but Davenport can’t break out of the corner with Dierch overpowering him with relative ease.


“This is not going to be pretty, I can tell you that for sure,” Pete remarks as Wes continues to struggle, gaining the ascendancy for a moment before Dierch regains control. “Both men have surprising power, from what I’ve witnessed of them, but Dierch might just have the advantage.”


“It’ll test each man’s resolve, Pete, and that’s where Dierch has Davenport’s number, because underneath that handsome and confident exterior, there beats a heart of a coward!”


“I hope you’re wrong, King, because the fans have become enamored with Wes, and we don’t have many men the fans love any more!”


Dierch manages a smirk as he grits he grits his teeth and digs in, his hands almost causing a permanent imprint in Davenport’s shoulders. The actor breathes heavily and shakes his head, trying his best to recover, but finding it rather difficult against an angry German. Dierch finals breaks his hold, but only to wind up and bury his fist in Davenport’s skull!


… But Wes ducks just in the nick of time! Dierch hits nothing but turnbuckle padding which fazes him little as he turns back around, charging at Davenport who escapes on the opposite side of the ring. Wes catches sight of him at the ring moment, allowing him to duck his head and catapult Dierch high into the air with a back body drop!


“Davenport was tested early, but he’s recovered well!” Pete cries as Dierch comes crashing down. “And he shows another move in his rapidly expanding repertoire.”


“Are you kidding?” King snorts, shaking his head at his partner. “I’ve seen hobo’s back body drop each other over my dinner scraps. He’s got to do A LOT more than that to impress me!”


A quiet cheer is heard as Dierch finally gets what’s coming to him, but he’s far from finished as he whirls back to his feet, meeting Davenport with a cold stare. Wes realizes he can’t play possum all night and goes on the offense himself, connecting with a European uppercut that sends Dierch barreling into the corner. Davenport hits another for good measure, taking the German by the hand and attempting an Irish whip, but Dierch counters with a reversal, and a violent one at that, pulling Wes in close and almost taking his head off with a clothesline!


“Oh my! What a clothesline from Dierch!” Pete exclaims. “He almost pulled Wes’ arm out of the socket with that short arm clothesline, and has to have knocked him six ways from Sunday.”


“Ah, now Dierch DOES impress me. He’s all talent and no remorse, something I love to see in our rookie’s. Plus he hits like a freight train, which always seems to help,” King replies, grinning as Wes tries to crawl away in vain.


Jason quickly catches up with Wes, bringing him to his feet and whipping him into the ropes once again. Davenport, still feeling that clothesline, is not eager to receive another, and grabs onto the top rope, stopping dead in his tracks! Dierch growls, charging at Davenport once again, but the actor escapes by the skin of his teeth, darting to the side and taking Dierch down with a Drop Toe Hold! The German lies throat first on the second rope, gagging slightly, giving Wes enough time to hit the opposite ropes, return, and drive a knee into Dierch’s spine! The whole crowd felt that hit as Jason holds his lower back, but climbs to his feet, resilient as ever. Wes finally shows some fire as his confidence builds, pouncing on Dierch and wailing on him with right hands in the corner, stopping only to begin battering him with knee’s to the ribcage!


“I don’t think even Davenport realizes how stiff those strikes are,” Pete notes as Dierch groans with each blow.


“Just ask each stuntman he’s ever worked with,” King answers with a snort. “Black eye’s and bloody noses the lot of ‘em!”


Davenport finally cracks a smile as more and more fans seem to cheer as he pounds away on his opponent. Wes’ distraction works to Dierch’s advantage, however, as the German switches places with the actor, bringing his arm back and…




… Slapping Davenport across the chest with a brutal knife-edge chop!




And another!






Dierch now has Davenport reeling as he stumbles across the ring, but Jason grabs a hold of him and whips him into the ropes, eagerly awaiting his return as he leans back and connects with a hard-hitting lariat! Wes hits the mat, but gets to his feet quickly like the fool that he is, receiving another lariat! The actor doesn’t learn from his mistakes as he again climbs to his feet, eating another lariat that almost knocks him out cold!


“Geez Louise!” Pete cries as Davenport stares up at the lights, his vision getting blurrier. “Dierch may be shorter than Davenport by almost half a foot, but the venom he puts behind each hit almost evens the score!”


“The bigger they are, the harder the fall, didn’t your mother ever teach you that?” King asks. “Oh, and another thing, ‘Geez Louise’? This family friendly business has really gotten out of hand.”


“I’ll tell you what’s not family friendly, King, and that’s these two men wailing on each other with some of the stiffest strikes I haven’t witnessed in… at least a few weeks.”


Dierch hooks Davenport by the leg for the cover










But Davenport manages to kick out, although it hurts to do so. Dierch is far from done as he lifts Wes to his feet, nailing him with rights and lefts, backing Wes towards the ropes. Another whip sees Davenport bounce off the strands, but this time, he’s lucky enough to duck underneath a lariat from Dierch!


Except when he returns again, Dierch flies through the air and takes him down with a leg lariat!


“Dierch shows his skills with his hands as well as his feet,” Longdogger points out. “Those skills being, he can maim you with either.”


Dierch covers yet again, maintaining pressure of the former actor










But Wes isn’t about to apple crumble! Dierch is slightly peeved at his opponent’s determination to continue, but relishes the opportunity to showcase his talents. As Davenport slowly climbs back to his feet, Dierch locks on a simply wristlock, speeding Wes’ climb to a standing base. Davenport yelps in pain, but Dierch quickly lets go of the hold, instead throwing Davenport’s arm across his neck and, with great balance and a burst of energy, slams Davenport with a Suplex!


“Von Dierch suplexes a man a foot and a half and 50 pounds heavier like he was nothing!” King exclaims as Davenport again regrets stepping into the ring. “He knows his limitations and what he can handle, and that will take him far in this business.”


“He can’t rest on his laurels, though,” Pete is quick to point out. “Davenport could just as easily turn the tide in his battle with one powerful stroke.”


“Except this time, Davenport won’t get to rely on his opponent’s stupidity and capitalize on an injury. He’ll have to actually beat Dierch man to man, and trust me, Dierch isn’t about to let up and become distracted in his mission!”


This statement rings true as Dierch approaches Davenport from behind, pelting him in the shoulder blade with forearm blows, doubling the former actor over. As Wes’ guard is down, Von Dierch grabs him around the neck, wrenching it and twisting it, causing Davenport to cry out! Dierch attempts to put Wes out of his misery, but the actor still has a few tricks up his sleeve, managing to slip his bulky frame free and contort his body, picking Dierch up and running towards the corner, ready to pummel him into the turnbuckles! But Dierch lurches forward, falling down Davenport’s back and rolling him up for the pin!










No! Wes pushes out of the pin, but before Dierch can even move, Davenport turns back and grabs both of Jason’s legs, flipping over into a bridged pin, placing all his weight on Dierch’s chest!














This time, Dierch rolls a shoulder off the mat! Davenport breaks his grasp but gets back to his feet in time to meet Dierch, who aims a right hook for Davenport’s temple, but Wes ducks and darts forward, connecting with a knee to Dierch’s already sore ribs. Davenport throws an arm around Dierch’s neck, pulling him down and driving his head into the canvas with a DDT!


“Well, it seems Davenport’s instincts kick into gear once again!” Pete cries as Davenport moves into the cover, dropping onto Dierch chest and pinning his arms at their sides












“Kick out, hah!” King calls as Dierch rolls to the side for a breather. “I admit, he does show SOME skill, basic skill though it may be, but right now it only comes in flashes. He’ll need to consistently pull out the best on a nightly basis to defeat anyone not named Matt Myers.”


The crowd begins to pick up again, cheering Davenport as they watch Dierch writhe on the mat, holding his head. Wes smiles, giving them a smile as he lifts Dierch to his feet, only to have him roll Wes up in a small package!



















“Again we see Wes become distracted, and Dierch picks up on it, almost surprising him and pulling out a victory!” Pete clamors as Davenport crawls away quickly, cursing himself on camera before the family friendly editing team can switch to a view of Pete giving thumbs up into the camera.


“Dierch may have had a snows balls chance in hell of actually pinning Davenport there,” King replies, “but what he has done is sewn another seed of doubt in Davenport’s mind, made him uneasy and taken away whatever confidence he had built up for himself.”


Davenport swings with a wild right, trying to regain the momentum, but Dierch ducks underneath with ease, taking Wes around the head and dropping to his knee’s, stunning Davenport with a jawbreaker! The actor falls to mat, and also falls victim to Dierch who mounts on his chest, giving him a sly smile before pounding away with rights and lefts mercilessly! The primarily family oriented crowd begins to boo in disgust as Dierch wails on his opponent with the utmost glee before the referee steps in, giving him the count. Before he can finish however, Wes rolls out to the side, and falls onto the concrete floor outside the ring!


“Now I can see the beauty of the Cruiserweight rules,” King says with a smirk, “both men may not wrestle the cruiserweight style per se, but they ARE brutal! And giving them 20 seconds on the outside of the ring is all they’ll need!”


King is right once again as Dierch sees a golden opportunity as Davenport struggles to get to his feet on the outside. The German climbs to the top rope, looking down at Wes on the outside. The distance and height bothers him little as he turns around, steadying himself as Davenport unknowingly obliges with his wishes as he stays perfectly still, allowing Dierch to…




“OH my god!” Pete cries as Dierch comes sailing down…




… BAM!!




Connect with a moonsault off the top rope, TO the outside! Davenport is sent hurtling across the concrete and bangs into the crowd divider, seemingly out of it! Dierch is a little worse for ware, but as he looks across at the former actor, eyes glazed over, he can see it was worth it.


“What a move!” King shouts as the crowd jump to their feet, both cheering and booing the sight they’ve just seen. “Dierch’s strikes were enough to knock Davenport silly, allowing him to dive bomb the actor!”


“This will be the real test of whether Davenport belongs here or not,” Pete notes. “After the beating he’s sustained, and is about to sustain, I’m not sure if he’ll continue, or just choose to give up. I can tell you what these fans want him to do though…”


Dierch counts himself lucky that Davenport was there to break his fall, or he might have actually hurt himself. Wes, on the other hand, isn’t as lucky as the German pulls him to his feet, but it takes some time pulling dead weight. The referee’s count has only reached 3, giving Dierch enough time for some punishment as he whips Davenport into the ring canvas, and then back into the guard rail! Davenport stumbles away, holding his back, and his head, and his ribs, somehow. Dierch is pleased at his handiwork as he steadies himself, watching Wes trip over in front of the announce table. The German takes a running start, leaping onto the steel ring steps and off again, barreling into Davenport with a spear!


“Like I said,” King reiterates, “not the cruiserweight style per se, but damn, damn brutal! I’ll be surprised if Wes can even walk after tonight. He might be able to if he just rolls over and lets Dierch win, of course, which is what he’ll no doubt do.”


“Believe whatever you may want, King,” Pete replies with a spiteful tone for his partner, “But Davenport has shown himself to seemingly enjoy what he’s doing and loves the crowd’s support, and he’s not about to let them down!”


Davenport hears Pete nearby and just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to pain and agony that the SWF provides! But as Dierch comes closer to finish him off, he hears the fans actually begin to cheer him on. Here, he can play a hero, and Dierch can play the perfect villain. He knows that if he struggles through the pain and torment, it’ll all be worth it.


Dierch, on the other hand, knows he has things IN hand, and thinks of a possible title shot. Only one thing remains, and that is doing away with Davenport, who climbs back to his feet, a stubborn fool as usual. As the referee’s count reaches 9, Dierch pulls Wes in for a short arm knee lift, driving the air out of Wes. With Davenport set up, Jason locks him into position for a Triangle Suplex as both men feel the concrete and padding beneath them.


Wes becomes desperate, trying to shake himself free and succeeding, firing an uppercut away to buy himself some time. Dierch recovers quickly and grunts, aiming a kick for Davenport’s bread basket, but the actor catch his foot in mid-air! Dierch hops around on one foot, at Wes’ mercy for once as Davenport sweeps Dierch’s opposite leg out from underneath him!


Only a few feet away, Pete becomes excited, “Davenport’s next movie s crucial. If he doesn’t capitalize here, he’s done for!”


Dierch flays about like a mad man, trying to escape, but Davenport moves into action before he can, rocking onto his back and lifting Dierch off the concrete…






… Catapulting him into the ring post! Cheers break out amongst the capacity crowd as Dierch’s head literally bounces off the steel, and sends the German in retreat over the Rhine, or in this case, back into the ring as the referee’s count reaches sixteen.


“Good move from Dierch,” King says, still showing where his bias lies. “He did the damage on Davenport outside of the ring, but he’s not going to let Wes do the same to him!”


Davenport staggers and sways, but keeps his feet and rolls back into the ring. Unfortunately, Dierch and the cut on his forehead are there to meet him, pouncing on the actor as he’s facing the canvas, grabbing a hold of his throat with a rear choke! Wes reaches out for the bottom rope, which is just out of his reach, but Jason keeps him firmly in place by using his legs to grapevine Davenport’s waist, locking him into position with a rear naked choke!


“Aha, he’s got him now!” King exclaims. “Watch as Davenport gives up in no time! He’s fading fast, and all he’ll want to do is give up and go back to his Hollywood lifestyle.”


“I think you’re selling Davenport short, but still, I don’t know how Davenport can get himself out of his jam.”


The crowd wills Davenport on, but Dierch is in his element right now, choking the very life out of Wes, but the actor still refuses to give up and end up a failure again. The referee is in his face, asking him the question, but Davenport still clings onto hope as he makes another desperate lunge, rocking his weight to the left, towards the bottom rope. Suddenly…








He gets there! Even Dierch is surprised, but he still doesn’t let the hold go. The referee counts to 4, and the German is forced to let go. Dierch wants to win this fair and square, and doesn’t care if the fans cheer or not as he lifts Davenport to a standing base. Wes sways back and forth as Dierch steadies himself, lining Wes up and shuffling his feet, firing his patented Standing Sidekick to his opponents jaw!


“The CRUMBLING WALL!” Wes is about to come crashing down!” King cries, rather pleased with his call.


… But Wes ducks! Dierch hardly even notices his finishing move has missed as he turns back around, seeing Wes lower his head and throw him high into the air, driving him into the mat with a Spinebuster!


“He countered!” Pete shouts. “A nasty Spinebuster brings Dierch down, but will it be enough!?”


Wes doesn’t hook Jason by the leg, instead he grabs him by the arm, flipping over the top of his opponent and rolling him up with a manhisterol cradle!
























“That’s it, it’s all over!” Pete cries as “Get Over It” begins to play and the crowd begins to cheer. Davenport sprawls out on the canvas, simply exhausted, while Dierch clutches his ribs, already ruing the loss.


“I don’t know how,” begins King, “but Davenport squeaks away a win from the jaws of defeat, but only just, only just!”


“It came down to the wire, that’s for sure King, but Wes put everything he had left into that Spinebuster, and used a cradle pin to put pressure on Dierch’s midsection, allowing him to get the victory!”


Davenport slowly gets to his feet as the referee lifts his arm into the air, much to the crowd’s delight! Lockdown goes to commercial, focusing on Davenport as he smiles, despite the crippling, agonizing pain.


But he’s smiling.

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In what seems to be the traditional lead-in to Hardcore title matches these days we go to Pete and King at ringside for the introductions.


“Detroit is a HUGE hockey town and here the Red Wings are king” Pete starts out


“Hey I’m sitting right here! You could have chosen a different way of expressing that!!” King says curtly. “I know you’re trying to introduce the “Hockeytown edition” of the Hide and Seek hardcore matches that Bruce have been competing in, but you could have used a different comparison”


“Great, now it’s ruined, you’ve given away what the match is and all, just go to the Hockeytown Café” Pete says grumbling “I try my best to do an exciting introduction and you blow it – I could have mentioned that this was the 6th Hardcore title match from Bruce, that he’s on the 75th day of his title reign or that these two have met before, but nope – let’s just go to the cameras outside the café!!!”


“ Are you PMSing or something Pete?” King inquires as the shot changes to a street shot of the Hockeytown Café.


A long white limo is parked at the curb outside the revolving doors to the café, the passenger door opens and Landon Maddix steps out where the cold air immediately turns his breath into puffs of mist. He slides off his long, sleeveless leather coat to reveal the “Detroit Red Wings” jersey he’s wearing tonight – Landon figured he’d blend easier in this.


“As if a Red Wings shirt will keep him from getting his ass kicked tonight” King says.


“I ain’t talking to you King” Pete replies


“Oh happy day! I have been waiting for this day for so long” King says all excited.


Landon looks both left and right, past the video screen where the Red Wings / Flames game is shown. He looks past the huge sports ticker that informs everyone that it’s a scintillating 0 – 0 match so far but Bruce Blank is nowhere to be seen.


“Maddix should know better, Bruce probably headed straight for the beers” King says while Longdogger just grumbles in the background.


Landon puts his hand on the revolving door and pushes it to enter the café. After a few steps round in the circle of the revolving door it stops, Landon pushes on the glass a few times but it’s well and truly stuck, La Cucaracha looks up and notices that Bruce is indeed inside the café already and that he’s the one blocking the revolving doors.


“Let me out of here you hick!” Landon yells as he bangs on the glass doors. After a few moments Bruce lets go of the door, to allow it to revolve again, but if Landon thinks he’s in the clear he’s got another thing coming as Bruce quickly grabs one of the door panels as it passes him and pushes it forward with such force that the door spins out of Landon’s hand and then slams against his back.


“BWAAAAA, ha, ha, ha, ha Maddix is stuck in the revolving door.” King gets out between fits of laughter. “This is awesome”


Bruce keeps spinning the door around, keeping Landon trapped inside it by the centrifugal force as he sends Maddix round and round in circles. Then after 10-15 revolutions Bruce stops and just looks at Landon as he staggers out from the revolving door, swaying, dizzy from the circular motions.


“I wonder if puking is allowed under family friendly rules, cause Maddix looks like he’s going to hurl” King says


“It’s not” is all Pete says.


When Bruce begins to walk away from the revolving door it becomes pretty obvious that he’s in quite a lot of pain, he has a limp and he makes sure not to move his right arm too much as he pulls up a chair and sits down to watch Maddix stagger around in the lobby of the Hockeytown café.


Landon raises his clenched fists as he staggers around, trying to protect himself from Bruce’s assault, but Bruce just sits there drinking a beer he pulled from his coat pocket trying to not move any more than he has to


“I’ve got you now!!” Landon says as he staggers to the right then he lands a very shaky “Maddix kick” right to the cheek of the Gordie Howe statue and knocks it over.


The entire room goes silent, only the TVs in the background are heard as the rabid Red Wings fans stare at Landon and the broken statue of Gordie Howe.


Bruce just smirks before he bellows out “Look it’s a Flames fan trying to trick you!!” which draws several angry comments and 5 or 6 guys in Red Wings shirts and foam fingers and most likely Red Wings underwear as well rush La Cucaracha and begin to brawl with him.


“Oh this is priceless! I mean Bruce is just sitting there and letting these guys do all the work – Maddix has it coming!”


“I was afraid this would happen one day, we are SO being sued” Pete says


“I thought you weren’t talking to me” King replies with just a hint of disappointment in his voice


It’s quite obvious that Bruce enjoying the 5 or 6 guys who are tearing the Red Wing’s jersey off La Cucaracha while trying to kick his ass, although the smirk is wiped off his face when La Cucaracha low blows one of the attackers, kicks another one upside the head to knock him back against the wall. The remaining attackers stop and back off when they see Landon lift a third attacker up in the air and drop him over his back sending him through a table with a loud crack!


“Landon is shaking his dizziness! It’s going to take more than 5 drunken fans to put La Cucaracha down I can tell you that much” Pete says as Landon runs the last two attackers off.


“Detroit fans are cowards!!” King says – then he pauses as he realizes that the entire Joe Luis arena heard him




With the fans on the run Landon can turn his attention back towards Bruce who’s just finishing up the can of beer. Bruce is slow to react as Landon runs towards him, he manages to throw his empty can at Landon but he’s too slow to get up and out of the way before La Cucaracha tackles him off the chair to the ground.


“Man Landon looks pissed off King!” Pete says as Maddix begins to throw lefts and rights to the back of Bruce’s head.


“Meh – temper tantrums are so infantile” is all King says in return.


Landon knows he can’t go toe to toe with Bruce in a straight up fist fight so he decides to gain the advantage by pulling Bruce’s long coat up over his head, trapping the big man’s arms as Landon lays in the blows alternating with shots to the back and upper cuts to Bruce’s face as he’s trapped in his own coat.


“We wanted to see a fight and a hockey match broke out” Pete quips


“Oh very droll”


After a few moments of Landon controlling the match Bruce finally manages to regain his balance and pull backwards fast, leaving Landon with Bruce’s coat in his hands and a surprised look on his face. The look of surprise quickly turns to a look of pain as Bruce drives the tip of his steel tipped cowboy boot into his abdomen.


As Bruce picks Landon up and places him over his head we get a good shot of Bruce’s face where Landon’s assault has opened several of the cuts he got in the match with Janus – which is immediately blurred out like they were trying to keep him anonymous.


“What in the world?” King exclaims in surprise “Are we supposed to not realise that it’s Bruce or something?”


Pete leans over to whisper to King but of course the super sensitive microphones pick it up as he says “They’re blurring out the blood to keep it more family friendly – it’s on a tape delay but no one knows that”


The Blurry faced Bruce has Landon flipped over his left shoulder in position for a Dominator type of move. The trapped and helpless Landon can’t do anything to escape the pain as Bruce drives La Cucaracha forward slamming him chest and knees first into the side of the original 1962 Zamboni that is part of the display of the Hockeytown Café lobby.




Then Bruce just lets go and Landon slowly slides down the side of the big machine and flops onto the floor like a dead fish. With one hand on the side of the Zamboni for balance Bruce heads for the drivers seat, he climbs in and turns the key




He turns the key again but the Zamboni isn’t powered up, it would be too dangerous to keep an actual working Zamboni in such a confined space after all.


“That’s a shame Bruce, it was a great idea to run Maddix over with the Zamboni” King quips


“Great idea? Figures you’d applaud for a man that announces his philosophy with a T-shirt that says “Cheat 2 Win” Pete fires back at him.


“Hey if you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying”


Bruce slams his hand against the wheel in frustration before climbing back down from the Zamboni taking great care to not bump his knees on anything. The Hardcore champion grabs a glass of beer off a table and downs it in one go while the unfortunate hockey fan just watches and wonders just how bad Bruce would hurt him if he said anything.


“That’s the second time Bruce drinks tonight! Come on it’s a match not a beer drinking contest” Pete admonishes Bruce


“Why can’t it be both? Besides if you’d been through what Bruce has been through you’d need a beer or two as well” King replies.


Landon’s speed catches Bruce totally off guard as La Cucaracha Maddix-kicks the big man square in the chest, knocking him back against the wall where several Red Wing players names are engraved in the granite. A second kick, this time aimed at the head misses though as Bruce slumps down a bit to let Landon kick the granite instead.


With his opponent bent over, clutching his knee in pain Bruce quickly springs back into action, grabbing Landon by the back of his trunks and the hair and hurling him forward, sending him face first into the “Ring of Honor” display corner where he knocks over several pedestals


“STEEEEE-RIKE!!” King yells out


“Not quite King, he didn’t knock over the busts of Gordie Howe and Sid Abel” Pete points out.


“I stand corrected, it’s a 9 – 12 split then” King quips


“I don’t get it” Pete says probably echoing all the fans at home that have no idea what numbers Howe and Abel had.


Bruce picks up the bronze bust of Terry Sawchuck and strikes Landon over the back with it as La Cucaracha is trying to get back to his feet. The impact on metal on spine sends Landon back down stomach first on the floor where Bruce begins to stomp away on him with his cowboy boots.


“AWRIGHT!! Stomp him like the roach he is Bruce” King says, always excited about Landon getting beat up.


“How long are you going to hold a grudge against Landon?” Pete asks


“That depends – how long does he plan on living” King replies in all seriousness.


After landing 5-6 hard stomps to the arms and shoulders of Landon Bruce decides that it’s time to go find his Hardcore title, the sooner he does, the sooner the match is over after all. Bruce limps over to the staircase to the 2nd floor and heads up towards the restaurant and bar area, pushing a few fans out of the way as he climbs the stairs.


Once he’s on the 2nd floor he begins to scan the restaurant and the bar, looking for any place the Hardcore title could possibly be hiding. He stops as he passes a table where a young couple are seated and picks up one of their glasses with Margarita.


“Now he’s stealing drinks too?” Pete says with the trademark outrage in his voice.


“I distinctly heard the guy offer Bruce a drink, but I got much better hearing than you so that could be why” King replies.


Bruce takes the little umbrella out of the drink and then slurps the Margarita down before throwing the glass away. After a quick burp Bruce heads for the bar, most likely looking for the Hardcore title belt. In the background we see Landon come up the stairs to the bar and restaurant to search for the hardcore title as well, but Landon makes sure that he’s not spotted by Bruce as he looks behind potted plants and under chairs and tables.


“Smart strategy by Landon, if Bruce doesn’t see him he might be able to find the title without further fighting” Pete says


“Smart? The guy is a coward! A no good coward” King says in a huff


“Oh yeah? How do you explain him winning the world title then?” Pete fires back to shut his co-commentator up.


Since he’s not aware that Landon is up and searching for the Hardcore title Bruce takes his time as he checks behind the bar, stopping for a bit to marvel at the sight of the long sheet of ice in the bar that’s used to keep the drinks cold


“Man I’ve got to get me one of those” he kinda mumbles from behind his blurred out dot of a face.


In the restaurant area Landon is down on all fours looking under tables to see if the Hardcore title is stuck up under one of them. Of course from this angle he also has the opportunity to peek up various skirts, an opportunity he can’t pass up – after all the title might be hiding there you know?


Up at the bar we find Bruce with a bottle of tequila in one hand and an angry bartender being held back with the other as he puts the bottle to his mouth and takes a long drink from it. Once he’s done he just hands the bottle back to the bartender and staggers off towards the men’s room – either to look for the title or to have a slash.


“Bruce needs some serious help, he’s been drinking through the whole match and I’m afraid he may hurt someone… or himself.” Pete says in a serious tone


“Maybe it’s just his way of handling the pain Pete! Ever thought of that? Janus put him through hell and now he’s booked in another brutal match – he’s not a machine, he’s got to cope somehow” King fires back, tired of the nampy-pampy ways of his co-commentator.


Landon heads over towards the bar as he sees Bruce stagger off in the direction of the men’s room. As he reaches the bar everyone in the whole café leap to their feet and starts to scream at the various TV screens all over the place.




“What happened?” King asks all confused.


“I think the Flames were about to score but it was blocked” Pete explains


“PFFFF who cares about hockey at a time like this?” King says while visibly rolling his eyes.


Landon quickly spins around, the crowd reaction had momentarily distracted him and he’s lost track of Bruce. He turns around only to be nailed in the chest by a metal bar stool that bends on impact as Bruce swings for the rafters. The impact leaves two long welts across Landon’s chest as he stumbles forward clutching his rib cage. Bruce doesn’t give his opponent much time to recover as he grabs Landon by the hair and then slams him face first into the metal rail that runs the entire length of the bar. Then he throws the 222 pounder up on the bar and then drags him across the bar top / ice sheet knocking drinks and beers and bowls of pretzels and peanuts over.


“Bruce is taking a page out of Bud Spencer’s play book here tonight” Pete quips


“Who? Man talk about a date reference – what’s next? Dyno-Mite!!” King says while sniggering at Pete’s outdated jokes.


Back at the café Bruce quickly throws back a shot of some clear liquid before climbing up on the bar himself standing over Landon as he tries to decide on what to do. Then he lifts the dazed Landon up into a power bomb position with La Cucaracha’s head between his legs


“He’s not??” Pete says


“Oh he is!” King replies while looking forward to seeing Landon being broken into small pieces.


Even though he’s not totally steady on his feet Bruce manages to flip Landon up so that he’s sitting on his shoulders for the power bomb before turning towards one of the tables in the bar, ready to drive his opponent into it.


---- him up!! ---- him up!! ---- him up!!


“Oh for the love of everything that is holy! Do they have to censor the chants too” King says annoyed by the tape delay that allows the SWF staff to mute the most offensive words.


“Family Friendly rules King, got to keep it clean for those viewers at home” Pete admonishes him.


The Red Wing fans in the bar are chanting for Bruce to drive Maddix into and through the table, the same fate they wish on everyone that doesn’t support the Red Wings. Bruce brings Landon forward as he himself leans forward to drive the power bomb home. But in mid move Landon locks his legs tight around Bruce’s head, flips with the momentum to grab the rail of the bar and turn the power bomb off the bar into a trademark Hurri-Lanrana instead.




Bruce’s 295 pound frame is thrown off the bar and send straight through one of the seven large glass display cases that contains uniforms and trophies from Red Wing history. The fans in the café are stunned and shocked to see Landon reverse the move and take control of the match.


“I can’t believe he did that! He could have the match won right here and now” Pete screams out as the excitement of the match gets to him.


“You forget that he has to find the title to win the match, not pin Bruce” King replies trying to put a dampener on Pete’s excitement.


Before Landon can do anything else he’s approached by a short, fat guy in a “Hockeytown” shirt who’s yelling and screaming in anger.


“Who’s going to pay for this? My insurance isn’t going to cover it!” the short guy who’s obviously the owner of the Hockeytown café yells at Maddix.


Maddix doesn’t seem to care at first, he’s busier looking around for the Hardcore title but when the short owner keeps getting in his face asking about who’s going to pay Landon decides to settle it once and for all.


“You contact these people” Landon says as he pulls a SWF Business card out of his pocket and hands it to the owner. “The guy to talk to is called the Suicide King – he’ll pay for all the damages” Landon says with a smirk.


“WHAT? HOW DARE YOU YOU SON OF A WHO..” King yells in anger over Landon’s ploy.


“Whole lot of people” Pete says to cover for King while trying to stifle a laugh.


“I’LL KILL HIM!! I’M GOING DOWN THERE RIGHT NOW TO KI.. !” King screams, launching into a tirade right as his microphone is cut off from the control booth.


Back in the café Bruce is slowly staggering to his feet, shards of glass are scattered everywhere as well as broken trophies and other memorabilia that could use some TLC after Bruce was tossed on top of it. Without missing a beat Landon leaps behind Bruce, grabs him around the jaw with both hands and pulls backwards driving the big man back first into the shattered glass and broken memorabilia with his So-Dak Moment




Or at least we think he’s driven into the shattered glass and memorabilia but the camera angle doesn’t capture all the gory details of skin against flesh.


“What the?” A slightly calmer King asks


“Family Friendly rules King remember?” Pete reminds his co-commentator


“So they book the match, they bend the rules for this one match, but they won’t show it on TV?” King asks confused.


Landon is quickly back on his feet and drags Bruce to his too, when the camera angle changes and we get a good shot of Bruce’s back and arm both body parts are blurred out to obscure the sight of blood to the people watching at home.




Landon looks up in confusion as the fans in the café first leap to their feet cheering loudly only to turn into a disappointed “aww” seconds later, then he notices that most of the people have their attention on the TV screens all over the bar, apparently the Red Wings almost scored.


“They watch hockey when they have a brutal fight like this right in front of them? What’s wrong with these people” King asks.


“I guess not even a hardcore title match can compete with the Red Wings” Pete replies.


“Oh yes it can, that’s violence WITHOUT ice – much better” King fires back defending his “sport”


Landon ignores the fans and keeps his focus on Bruce, dragging big man up to his knees before using his superior speed to spin around and actually lock the wide shouldered Hardcore champion into the Dragon Clutch.


“THE LAND OF NOD!! Bruce is fixing to go beddy-bye” Pete yells out as Landon manages to lock his finisher on Bruce.


“Come on Bruce!! Snap his twig arms!! You can do it!” King yells out, desperately hoping that Landon isn’t actually able to put Bruce out with the move.


Landon’s face strained and contorted as he puts all his strength into keeping the Land of Nod locked on as Bruce begins to thrash his arms around to break free of the submission move. But every time the big man moves Landon is able to inch the move on tighter and tighter with the expertise you only get after using a move night after night.


Bruce’s arm flailing begins to slow down to something that’s closer to twitching than flailing as Landon’s bicep bulge and throb from the strain.


“No, no, no, no” is all the Suicide King can say as he watches Bruce slow down.


“If he can make Bruce pass out he’s got a free run of the place, he can’t possibly lose then” Pete adds to King’s insightful commentary.


Bruce’s arms go limp from the pressure, although his right arm does manage to land on a beer bottle that got knocked on the ground from all the action. Bruce’s fingers slowly grasp it around the neck before he swings it up over his own head aiming it right at Landon’s skull




A split second before the bottle hits the head the camera cuts to a shot of the crowd in the bar who look on in stunned silence as a few shards of glass actually fly in view of the camera, then they cut back to the fight where Landon has been knocked back against the bar and the right side of his face is now blurred out to cover up the blood that’s running down his cheek.


“This is getting absurd Pete – let the people at home see EVERYTHING that goes on” King objects


“Think of the children King, Somebody think of the children!!” Pete pleads.


Bruce is on his hands and knees, breathing heavily as he tries to shake the effects of the Land of Nod while Landon is already back on his feet, unsteadily heading towards the stairs to the 3rd floor to see if the Hardcore title is hid in the 5 Hole bar upstairs. As he passes a display of hockey sticks and pucks signed by the current line up of the Red Wings he pauses. Then he kicks the display open, sweeps the pucks on the ground and grabs a stick.


“What’s he doing?” King asks as Landon begins to slide a puck back and forth across the floor like a pro hockey player.


“Erm…” is all the insightful Pete can offer us.


Landon gets a cocky grin on his face as he starts to bounce a little from side to side almost as if he was on skates. He lines up a puck, pulls the stick back and




Sends a puck flying straight for Bruce hitting the big man on the elbow with a hollow thud. Landon does a quick mocking victory round with the stick up in the air as he yells


“Landon Gretzky shoots!! He Scores!!! – With one shot he’s shown the world that he’s better than the entire Red Wings of 2005”


The crowd doesn’t like those comments and begin to boo him as he lines up another puck, the jeering and boos just brings a smirk to his face as he waits for Bruce to be in just the right position


Mad-dix sux!! Mad-dix sux!! Mad-dix sux!!


“Ah Detroit have the greatest fans ever” King says


“I thought you said they were all cowards” Pete reminds him


“Oh shut up”


He lines the puck up and with a mighty slap shot sends the small black disk flying through the air with a whoosh and then another thud as puck meets flesh once more, this time hitting Bruce’s injured right shoulder straight on. The impact causes Bruce to crumple to the floor, holding his shoulder as he shrieks in pain.


“Maddix should pick up the phone and THANK Janus if he actually manages to win this match, the Hell Machine softened Blank up for him” King comments.


“I can’t deny that the match with Janus has left it’s marks on Bruce, but if he wins Landon earned it on his own.”


“Landon NEVER earned anything” King fires back


“Yeah? How about those that world title he won?” Pete says with a smirk knowing that always shuts King up.


Landon approaches Bruce with the hockey stick still in his right hand. He swiftly slides the handle of the hockey stick up under Bruce’s throat and then beings to pull backwards, choking Bruce and forcing the big man to rise to his feet at the same time. La Cucaracha semi-drags Bruce by the throat over to a table and then drapes the big man across it on his back. Before Bruce can react he’s hit in the shoulder with the hockey stick and then across the face with it, shattering it on impact.


“Oh my god!! Bruce looks like he’s out” Pete says as Bruce’s head slumps backwards onto the table, eyes closed.


“Where is that fool going now” King asks as Landon heads over to the trophy cases.


Landon quickly climbs up and balances on top of the wood framed trophy cases facing Bruce’s prone body stretched out on a table. Then he quickly points to the sky for a second before leaping off the trophy case


Crouches his body in mid air by bringing his legs up and his elbows in to gain more momentum, stretching his body out at the very last second as he splashes down on top of Bruce driving the Hardcore champion through the table with a mighty crunch.


Holy ----!! Holy ----!! Holy ----!! Holy ----!!


“THE FROG SPLAAAAAAAAAAAASH!!” Pete screams out announcing the move to the world as if they didn’t see it with their own eyes.


“The fans in the café don’t really like Maddix but that move brought the entire room to their feet” King reluctantly admits.


Just seconds after Landon’s Frog splash has driven Bruce through the table the big screen TV in the background shows the Red Wings finally scoring.




If the crowd was fired up before, they’re positively nuclear now as the fans in the entire café leap to their feet and cheer and hug and knock the camera guy over in sheer excitement.


“Oh jesh calm down people” King says “So the Wing scored”


Everyone in the arena just saw the Red Wings score as well and despite it being a wrestling event a good 90% of the fans in the arena are also hockey fans so the cheers in the Joe Luis arena quickly drowns out King and Pete’s commentary


Back in the café Landon is back on his feet, clutching his ribs from the impact of the Frog Splash but otherwise able to keep searching for the Hardcore title. Bruce just lies there in the rubble of the broken table, his breathing being obstructed by the nose that Janus broke during their match and that Landon just re-broke making every breath he takes a creepy rasping sound.


Landon ducks and weaves through the crowd hoping to find the Hardcore title without having to search for another floor, not to mention the roof café. Once he thinks he spots it but it turns out that it’s a gold plaque from the city of Detroit honouring the Red Wings and their contribution to the city.


“So close!” Pete says


“How is that close? It’s either the title or it’s not – you can’t “semi-find” the title dork!” King fires back at him starting to feel nervous, hoping that Landon won’t find the title.


As Landon searches Bruce has some time to recover from the beating he’s taken so far. He uses his hands to drag himself back to his feet where he stands, swaying from either pain or alcohol as he tries to spot Landon. Then he staggers over towards the bar ever so slowly, limping every step of the way, blurred drops of blood dripping from his right hand. Once he reaches the bar he picks up a shot glass with a dark brown wood-colored liquid and two ice cubes in it, but instead of drinking it he stares down at the slab of ice that is designed to keep the drinks cold as the fans watch the game.


“I think Bruce sees something Pete!” King points out


“I’m amazed he can see anything right now, after all the drinking he’s done and the beating he’s taken tonight” Pete replies


Bruce is staring at and dripping blood on the Ultra Violent title, it’s encased in ice in the bar right in front of him. Bruce quickly spills all the shots and drinks on the table with a sweep of his left hand. Then he pulls out his Zippo lighter, flicks it and sets the alcohol on the tabletop ablaze




Bruce turns around to make sure Landon isn’t sneaking up on him, but he’s too late as Landon has ALREADY snuck up on him and drop kicks the big man right in the chest. The double boot to the chest sends Bruce backwards, slamming his back against the bar and his left hand hitting the flaming ice block.


“Holy moley Bruce is on fire!!” Pete screams out


“Yeah he has been doing pretty well tonight Pete” King quips


Bruce’s hand may have been burned a bit but it also managed to crack through the melting ice, the barbwire wrapped title is now within his grasp. Landon picks up a broken bottle and approaches Bruce with something nasty in mind, but his forward momentum is stopped as Bruce yanks the title belt out of the ice, still with alcohol burning in several places and then brings the solid metal face plate down right on the nose and forehead of La Cucaracha.




Landon sinks to his knees, then drops to the floor with his eyes rolled to the back of his head, the impact has knocked the challenger out cold. Bruce stands there for a moment, right hand on the bar to keep him steady, apparently not realizing that he’s got the title belt in his left hand until he looks down and sees the metal and barbwire encrusted leather strap


“Where the hell did you come from??” Bruce blurts out in a drunken slur as he does a double take at the title in his hand. Then he grins like a loon as he realizes he has retained the title before staggering off, lurching to one side from either the alcohol or pain or quite possibly both.


“Bruce pulled it off! This has got to be his biggest victory to date King” Pete exclaims as they cut the feed from the “Not quite family friendly” Hardcore title match.


“It was just Maddix” King says not very impressed


“Maddix the former world champion!” Pete points out.


“Oh quit flogging THAT dead horse Drain Clogger!!” King snaps back as Lockdown goes to commercials...

Edited by Justice

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Cut backstage, where we see Ben Hardy standing backstage with Jay Hawke.


Hardy: "I am standing here tonight with the SWF International Champion, Jay Hawke, who later tonight will join eight other wrestlers in a battle royal to determine the seeding for the 2005 Cold Front Classic tournament. Jay, your thoughts going into this match."


Hawke: "My thoughts? My thoughts. I'll tell you my thoughts, Hardy."


Jay Hawke holds up the International Championship belt, making sure the camera gets a good hard look at it.


Hawke: "You see this belt? This belt has been mine for five months. Nobody has ever had a single title reign longer than the one I'm working on. Have they?"


Hardy: "No."


Hawke: "Not Fallout, not Sacred...not even the World Champion himself can say he had five uninterrupted months as a champion. But as I watched Spike Jenkins get a World Title shot at Ashes 2 Ashes despite winning one match since I came to this company..."


Hardy: "I'm sure you're exaggerating."


Hawke: "Maybe, but David Arquette had a better win/loss record when he became World Champion. But here I am. 157 days as International Champion...and I have to wrestle four times just to get the shot? Well, you know what? I'm not going to sit here and complain about it. Instead, I'm going to do something about it. And I don't care if it's Spike Jenkins, TORU Takahara, Wildchild, or even my partner, JJ Johnson. Tonight, I become the number one seed. And by the time the winner of this tournament gets their shot at the World Title...well, let's just say I'm going to teach whoever the World Champion is a wrestling lesson he'll never forget, and there's not a damn thing anybody can do about it."

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As we come back from commercials, we open to see a referee in the ring, as well as a non-descriptive wrestler in a full body, including head, black bodysuit (head meaning mask). The crowd seems to be a little confused by what's going on here.


Pete: Welcome back to Lockdown everyone...and after that unique Hardcore title match, we were expecting to have the Cold Front Classic battle royal next, but apparently there are plans not in our program.


King: Yeah, why is it we're always the last to know about things like this? I think we REALLY need to talk to the higher ups about making sure we know what's being planned backstage.


Pete: Well, referee Vic Braxton in the ring, and now maybe Funyon can shed some light on this situation.


The crowd goes silent, waiting to hear what is going on.


Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following bonus match is scheduled for one fall, with a 20-minute time limit.


Pete and S. King: ...bonus match!?


Funyon: In the ring...from San Antonio, Texas...standing 6'1" tall and weighing in at 230 pounds...EL MEDIANOCHE!


Pete: El Medianoche making his debut here in SWF...I know nothing about this guy, do you?


S. King: Well, I know that he's currently working in our development program...however other than that I know nothing about this guy. Will be interesting to see what he has planned.


Pete: I'm more interested in who his opponent will be. We don't know...


Before Pete gets a chance to finish up what he was saying, the lights in the entire arena go out. A murmur started to build up from the crowd, as they didn't know what to expect. That is, until...






"Superstar" by Saliva starts playing over the speakers, and the crowd reaction turns surprisingly positive as the lights come back on, and a returning star comes out from the back, along with his curvaceous manager. The superstar has added to his ring attire, adding a sleeveless vest and sunglasses for the entrance.


Funyon: Aaaand his opponent...being accompanied to the ring by his manager Kelly Connelly...from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania...standing 6'3" tall and weighing in at 250 pounds...making his return to SWF..."THE ICON"...MAX...KING!


Pete: And listen to this reaction! Max King is ready for action for the first time since last February, when he had that major car accident. And we already know why he's coming back for action.


S. King: That's right...King wants to get back into this business in a big way, and wants to do it against the same guy that he had some of his hardest matches with before his injury in the form of Landon Maddix!


Pete: But tonight, this will be a test to see if he still has it in the ring. There's a lot of questions on how well King will be doing in that ring after such an injury.


King and Kelly both get up onto the ring apron, and at the same time step between the second and top rope, making sure they plant a kiss as they steps through. El Medianoche just stands in the ring, observing what is going on...the mask hiding his expression as Kelly goes to remove King's personal effects.


Pete: I'll say this much for King...despite his injury, "The Icon" still looks to be in as great of shape as he was back when he was actively competing here in SWF.


S. King: That's something that he'll definitely need, as it's going to be a hard for him to get back into the swing of things after being out so long. If he can't get by El Medianoche tonight, then he better go back to training.


Pete: Kelly getting out of the ring now, and we're ready to get underway with this match!




King looks to Medianoche, extending a hand as are the rules for Lockdown. However, for his troubles he gets a punch to the face...as Medianoche doesn't seem to want to play by the rules.


Pete: Well, that's going to be a fine in his future. And if he loses this match, a lost chance for coming to the main roster.


S. King: But he's showing me he's going to be his own man. Now Medianoche unloading on King!


Medianoche continues to slug away at "The Icon", having caught him off guard with that attack at the start. He manages to get the former ICTV champion into the corner, and attempts to whip him out of it at full force. However, King is ready for it this time, and reverses the whip, sending Medianoche to the buckle. Not wasting any time between the whip, King charges into the corner, blasting the masked man with a hard clothesline. Before Medianoche can get a chance to stumble out of the corner, "The Icon" blasts him hard across the chest with a chop...




And another...




And yet another!




...before he lets Medianoche stumble out of the corner, holding his chest in pain. King takes this chance to get to work...going off the ropes, and floating down as he grabs the man in black with a neckbreaker.


Pete: Despite the cheap start to the match, King has gotten back into control. That alone is a mark of a true competitor.


S. King: I'll admit that much, but let's see if he can KEEP the control. It's easy to GET it. To KEEP it though, that's another story.


King seems to be almost WAITING for Medianoche to get back up to his feet. He keeps standing behind him, and the fans are watching and waiting...seeing...as King suddenly grabs the masked wrestler around the neck, and hooks him up...


Pete: And right away the King Buster! Max King isn't wasting any time tonight making his return!


S. King: It may be too soon though! We don't...


Pete: Max with the cover now...










S. King: ...woah, I didn't expect that.


Kelly rolls into the ring to stand next to her man as he gets up, a smile on his face.


Pete: It's apparent that Max King wasn't going to be working by the hour tonight, as he made quick work of El Medianoche. But one can only wonder how he'll do against more serious competition...wait, King has the mic, handed to him by Kelly.


Max King stands up, smiling a bit at the result. "You know, originally I was just going to go out here, have a nice competitive match, make a show for you people. However, well...guess my opponent just wasn't ready for one. SO...since I have some extra time, I feel I need to remind you people why I've decided to come back."


"You see, before I was injured, there was one man that always managed to take me to my limit in the ring. A man that I once thought was someone, even though I didn't like him ONE BIT, I could respect. That was Landon Maddix."


A loud jeer comes up from the crowd upon the mention of Maddix's name, forcing King to pause his speech for the moment.


S. King: You know, for once I agree with the crowd about something.


"ANYWAY...that was the past. However, recently Mr. Maddix decides to drop MY name when he's talking to HIS ex-girlfriend. Well just remember this Maddix...any time you drop MY name, I WILL drop YOUR body. You know me. You remember me. The name's Max King. And when all is said and done...next PPV? I'll drop you again, and show you once and for all...and for a fact...that THE KING...HAS..."


Max is about to finish, but the crowd decides to finish for him. "RETURNED!"


King seems...taken aback by this. He was never cheered before in his career, and now with people chanting his catchphrase he is taken off guard. King nods to the camera. "Well, you know." He says simply, before going to leave the ring, all smiles.


Pete: Max King making quick work of El Medianoche, but the end to his path on this return is gonna be a LOT harder, in the form of Landon Maddix. Don't go away, we've got the Cold Front Classic battle royal next!


The camera fades out as King and Kelly make their way up the ramp, all smiles.

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"Fans, welcome back to the Joe Louis Arena here in Detroit, Michigan," Longdogger Pete bellows, "and get ready for our main event! Tonight, for the second time in history, we start the best and greatest knock-out tournament in the world of Pro Wrestling; the Cold Front Classic!"


"Certainly, last year's tournament was a doozie," Suicide King remarks. "The only downer was the fact that Sacred was cheated at the end and that idiot Landon Maddix fluked his way to victory, then went on to actually beat Toxxic for the World Title at Slay Ride..."


"Indeed he did," Pete replies as King tails off, nursing his hatred for the Cockroach, "but fear not King, Maddix isn't in this Battle Royale tonight! Instead we have eight men and one woman, all determined to go through the rest of the field and get the chance to face the World Champion. However things have changed a little this year, as they get their title shot not at our Christmas PPV, but at the second biggest event of the year, the Clusterfuck! Let's send it down to Funyon, sit back and enjoy!"


The camera shifts to show the tuxedo'd figure of the SWF's veteran ring announcer standing in a spotlight. Funyon raises his microphone to his mouth and begins the intonation...


"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the Cold Front Classic Battle Royale! Nine competitors will enter the ring, and the only way to be eliminated is by being thrown over the top rope and having both feet touch the floor! The first superstar to be eliminated will be out of the Cold Front Classic, and from then on eliminations will decide a superstar's seeding in the tournament, with the winner of the Battle Royale being the Number One Seed!"


As Funyon finishes the strains of 'China Girl' by David Bowie start up, and the diminutive shape of the SWF's one-and-only Joshi walks out, accompanied as ever by the greasy-haired, buck-toothed form of Frisco.


"Introducing the first competitor, from Tokyo, Japan," Funyon booms, "weighing in at 124lbs, this is CANDACE... 'THE JOSHI DRAGON'... OKI-MURRRRRR-AAAAAAAAAA!!"


Candace nods a couple of times at a few applauding fans, then mounts the ring steps and ducks through the ropes while Frisco tries to get a good view of her ass. The SWF cameraman, well aware of his job specifications, does a much better job.


"This is Candace's second run in the SWF, and as yet she is undefeated," Pete points out. "Although she lacks the bulk that often spells sucess in these over-the-top-rope matches, her agility and small size may allow her to duck out of trouble. Certainly, a strong run in the Cold Front Classic will raise her SWF profile."


There is a small pause as the Joshi runs the ropes a few times, then the brutal guitars of Mastodon's 'Crusher Destroyer' kick up and a few more fans leap to their feet in anticipation of the SWF's long-running mascot of Underdogness.


"Next, from Denver, Colorado," Funyon announces, "weighing in at 245lbs, this... is... MAAAAAAN-SONNNNNN!!"


The Raging Bull stomps down the ramp, rolls into the ring under the bottom rope and scales the turnbuckle to raise one defiant fist out at the world. Several members of the audience stand and raise their fists in response, proving that the Cult of Mansonosity isn't dead yet.


"Manson is one of those never-say-die athletes," Longdogger Pete explains to the viewers at home, "and another one who could really benefit from a strong showing in the Cold Front Classic. With the International Champion, the Cruiserweight Champion and one half of the Tag Champions all competing it's a great way to get yourself noticed by defeating one of them in the singles matches that occur later."


"Manson is there to make other people look good," King snorts, "nothing more, nothing less. He certainly wouldn't have a prayer against any champion in this federation.”







"And, making his debut in the SWF," Funyon booms, although he looks dubious about that last remark, "from Cairo, Egypt; he weighs in at 273lbs... this is the MAAAAAASKED... CRUSAAAAA-DEEERRRR!!"


There is a complete lack of reaction of any sort as the Masked Crusader walks down the entrance ramp to the ring. Well, except from King and Pete.


"I have no clue who this guy is," LDP remarks. "Brian?"


"Well, he seems oddly familiar," the Gambling Man admits, "and he carries himself like a wrestler... ah hell, it might come to me. If not, it's probably no great loss."


The Masked Crusaders strides coldly down the entrance ramp, taking no particular notice of the fans at ringside but also not making any obvious taunting motions towards them. Candace and Manson regard the big man warily as he climbs to the apron and steps through the ropes, regarding them through the holes in his mask. However, even as he makes it to the ring the strains of Pink Floyd’s ‘Learning To Fly’ cut over the speakers, and the crowd makes it’s first obvious statement of preference:




“And from Cleveland, Ohio,” Funyon announces, “he weighs in tonight at 215lbs and is the reigning SWF International Champion… ‘The Dean Of Professional Wrestling’, JAAAAAAY… HAAAAAAAAWKE!!”






The Dean doesn’t pay any attention to the Michigan Morons besmirching his name as he steps down the ramp with the International Title buckled over his robe. Instead he smirks at his opponents in the ring, well aware that his combination of experience and ring smarts should see them all off in short order.


“Now, here is a talented individual,” King declares, “and now he’s free from the burden of being in a tag team with Landon, he may well be the man to win this tournament and challenge for the World Title at Clusterfuck.”


“You have to wonder though, what that would do for the relations inside Cucaracha Internacional,” Pete points out, “as Landon wants the World Title, and JJ Johnson is also in this match.”


“Bah, maybe they’ll kick Landon out or something,” King says hopefully.


Hawke strips off his title belt before he enters the ring, making sure to show it to the jobbers inside and then handing it over to the timekeeper. The Dean then removes his robe and enters the squared circle… but his head snaps around as the distinctive electronic beats of ‘Tribe’ by Mad Capsule Markets causes the lights to drop and strobes to start flashing. Three letters flash up one after another on the Smarktron:










-before a silhouette in a trenchcoat appears at the top of the entrance ramp, prompting a reasonable-sized cheer from the crowd!








“And from Saitama Prefecture, Japan,” Funyon declares, “he is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and weighs in tonight at 264lbs… this is ‘The Japanese Hammer’, TORRR-RRRRUUUU… TAKA-HAAAAARRRR-AAAAAA!!”


TORU makes his way down the ramp, giving the crowd and Jay Hawke the middle finger, his vinyl trenchcoat buttoned tight across his chest.


“We last saw TORU winning the Tag Titles in his homeland of Japan,” Longdogger Pete notes, “and one of the men he won them from is standing in that ring right now! I have the feeling that the Japanese Hammer might be a target for Cucaracha Internacional, King!”


“Almost certainly,” the Gambling Man replies, “but to be honest, as long as Wildchild doesn’t win I’ll be happy.”


“What about Spike?”


“Come on, be realistic.”


TORU climbs through the ropes, then turns to Jay Hawke and slowly undoes the buttons of his coat… before flinging it wide open and grinding his hips, showing the Dean of Professional Wrestling the title belt around his waist! Hawke grinds his jaw, but doesn’t move for the moment. However, his manner perks up when new music hits…




“And from Windsor, Ontario, Canada,” Funyon declares, “he is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion and weighs in tonight at 219lbs, this is JAY! JAY! JOOOOHHHHHN-SONNNNNN!!”




The crowd don’t like Johnson much, but since he’s a badass instead of an asshole he gets a slightly -very slightly- warmer reception than Hawke. Johnson simply takes a swig of water from his bottle before, to the shock of all who have watched pro wrestling over the last few years, swallowing it instead of dribbling over himself.


“Here comes Hawke’s backup,” Pete notes, “the man who Landon called in to help his team win the match at Ashes 2 Ashes, but who got delayed by David Blazenwing. You can bet he’ll be gunning for TORU as a matter of stable pride…”


The Canadian strips off his jacket and Cruiserweight Title before jumping up to the apron and vaulting over the ropes, throwing both items to the timekeeper and going nose-to-nose with TORU while Hawke smirks in the background. Neither TORU nor Johnson throws a strike, but neither one backs down...




…and then the high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks the tension as ‘Black Label’ by Lamb of God kicks in, announcing the arrival of Spike Jenkins!


“From Hollywood, California,” Funyon announces somewhat reluctantly, “he weighs in at 226lbs, this is ‘HOLLYWOOD’… SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE… JEEEEENNNN-KIIIIINNNNSSSS!!”




The crowd cheer as Spike throws up the ‘X’, then storms down the entrance ramp towards the ring, slapping a few hands as he goes.


“Christ, the people love a loser don’t they?” King asks.


“You can bet that Spike will be extra motivated to win this match for what might turn out to be another shot at El Luchador Magnifico,” Pete reminds him.


“Dogger, if he wasn’t motivated enough to win the World Title match, I doubt this will do it,” King scoffs as Spike slides under the ropes. The Californian throws up the ‘X’ one more time in salute to the fans, then starts stretching in anticipation of the next competitor.






‘I am the new way to go. I am the way of the future…’


‘After The Flesh’ by My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult thumps out of the speakers, and the crowd rises in unanimous disdain for the Barracuda. Johnny stalks out onto the soundstage with trenchcoat flapping around him and mirror shades in place, casting glances left and right.


“From Las Vegas, Nevada,” Funyon booms, “he weighs in tonight at 217lbs; this is JOHNNY… ‘THE BARRACUDA’… DAAAAAAAAN-GEROUSSSSSSSS!!”






Dangerous simply sneers at the fans as he makes his way down the ramp, trenchcoat flapping behind him, before discarding both coat and shades as he climbs through the ropes into the ring and looks around him with distaste at the other competitors.


“Johnny Dangerous is the only wrestler in the Cold Front Classic who has already been World Champion,” Pete reminds the viewers, “in fact he has been the champion not once but twice! However, he hasn’t been able to hold onto the belt for a meaningful amount of time on either occasion-”


“-but he’s done better than Danny Williams, who’s choked on no less than four separate occasions,” Suicide King interjects. “Try and get things into perspective, please.”


With the eighth wrestler in the ring there is only one competitor left… and everyone knows who it is. Johnny best of all.




“And from The Bahamas!” Funyon roars as the crowd, appropriately enough, goes wild, “he weighs in at 214lbs; this is THE WIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLD-CHIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLD!!”


Wildchild appears on the soundstage, but no sooner has the Human Hurricane come into view than he charges headlong towards the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope at full pelt! Johnny immediately drops and clubs his former tag partner across the back… and all hell breaks loose!




Johnson and Hawke immediately attack TORU Takahara, driving the big man back towards the ropes with repeated blows. Wildchild is trying to fight up off the ground but Johnny straddles him in a rear mount and begins raining crossface blows down onto the Bahaman Bomber. Meanwhile, Spike has gone for the biggest man in the ring and begins a war of chops with the Masked Crusader. The masked man takes the blow, then fires back with one of his own and staggers the Hollywood Superstar, but Spike retaliates in kind...














…while Candace tries the same tactic on Manson!






Manson barely staggers from the attack, but fires back with a punch to the face that dumps the Joshi onto her well-formed ass!


“How very sporting,” King comments.


“You have to say, if you don’t want to be hit in the face you shouldn’t be in a wrestling ring,” Pete points out.


Meanwhile Johnson and Hawke have both grabbed one of TORU’s legs and start lifting the big man with the obvious intention of tipping him backwards over the ropes. Unfortunately TORU has other ideas and the Japanese Hammer kicks out, using his powerful leg muscles to throw them off. Hawke recovers first and charges back in but Takahara delivers a knee to the gut before scooping the Dean of Professional Wrestling up into a power slam position and heading for the cables…


“We could have the first elimination right here!” Pete shouts in anticipation… but Johnson delivers a chop block to TORU’s left knee, causing it to buckle and sending Takahara crashing to the ground with Hawke landing more or less on his feet!


“Well, there’s teamwork for you,” King says with satisfaction.


Meanwhile Manson has scooped Candace up and backs off a second, then spins back in looking for a Rolling Elbow… but Candace ducks, then leaps up to deliver a hurricanrana as Manson turns around again to try and find her! The move sends the Raging Bull off-balance and he stumbles through the gap between the top and middle rope and topples out to the floor, but because he didn’t go over the top rope he isn’t eliminated - just very pissed! Candace turns around to find Spike Jenkins ducking under a short-arm lariat from the Masked Crusader, taking the Crusader’s arm with him and momentarily trapping it behind the bigger man’s back. Jenkins sees Candace and yells an instruction, so with nothing better to do the Joshi Dragon runs towards the Crusader and leaps into the air to deliver a leg lariat - at the same moment Spike twists around and delivers a lariat to the big man’s chest, and the combination of strikes knock the masked man to the ground. Spike decides to leave the Masked Crusader on the ground with Candace to deal with him and heads over to where Johnny is trying to choke out Wildchild.




One kick to the ribs.




Another kick to the ribs. Spike slaps both hands on the canvas, lets out a yell and swings with the final kick towards Johnny’s head… but the Barracuda ducks, and as Spike spins around Dangerous pops up to his feet and hooks his head under Jenkins’ left arm before hoisting him upwards…




…but he’s wrong, as Spike slips out of the move to land behind the startled Johnny! Johnny is even more startled to find Spike’s arm snaking up from behind to wrap around his throat in a rear facelock, before-






“CLEAN LIVING!” Longdogger Pete roars, this time waiting until after the move is hit before calling it. Spike gets back up to his feet with fire in his eyes, only for-




-the returning Manson to nearly take his head clean off with the Western Lariat! With one target down Manson turns in search of another and his eyes light on Candace, who has just been shoved back into the ropes by a thrust of the Masked Crusader’s legs as she tried to apply what might have been a Figure-Four. Manson narrows his eyes and picks up speed, raising his right arm again to send Candace backwards over the top rope and out of the match…


…but Candace sees him coming at the last moment and ducks her head, then boosts upwards to send Manson toppling over the top with a backdrop! The Raging Bull tries desperately to cling to the top rope on his way over but he can’t manage it, and he lands hard on the outside!


“Ladies and gentlemen, eliminated first, and thereby NOT competing in the Cold Front Classic...MAANSOONN!!!” booms Funyon.


Manson is furious, kicking the steel ring steps with a loud *CRASH!* as he stalks off, but there is nothing to be done. Keep in mind this in no way prevents him from being ornery over his lost opportunity, and it takes two or three refs to finally get him to the back.


“And MANSON is the first one out!” begins Pete. “THIS is certainly a shock, considering how well he did in last year’s battle royal.”


“Eh, Candace got lucky. Especially lucky, since Manson has yet to remove her head via MANSONOSITY~!”


King bolts out of his seat as he screams that word, every section within earshot turning to give the Gambling Man funny looks, and maybe throw stuff. Manson continues storming to the back, and he’s still furious as he practically tears the curtain down storming through it.


Candace is not nearly as furious; as a matter of fact, she’s overjoyed. And she continues to flaunt that fact, until she comes to a very, very harsh realization, in the form of a damn-near-crippling knee to the back.



Nobody else is overjoyed.



Especially not TORU. The Japanese Hammer grabs the aching Candace and hurls her bodily into the corner before beginning a slow, methodical...ah, who am I kidding. He begins kneeing the hell out of her. Meanwhile, Jay is unfortunate enough to have picked a fight with the Masked Crusader, and the smaller man is doing his best impression of a punching bag as the Crusader beats him from pillar to post, deliving a hard kick to the stomach. Jay goes down, and Crusader punts him in the ribs again, sending the International Champion tumbling across the ring. Crusader grins as his quarry is obviously wounded, and begins to stalk the man who lays claim to the longest title reign of any sort. Until, that is, there is a tap at his shoulder. The masked giant turns around and sees...nothing. Then he looks down, to find the 6’1” JJ Johnson staring up at him. The Crusader grins even wider, and he actually begins to laugh, his body heaving with the involuntary reaction as Johnson looks on.






That is, until an elbow strike to the jaw knocks the grin off of his face. The Crusader adjusts his mask, and snarls with anger, before drawing his fist back...














And as the Egyptian draws his fist back, Johnson unleashes a flurry of elbow smashes that rattles the massive man before sprinting to the opposite ropes, rebounding, and taking flight, forcibly removing the Crusader’s head with a Dynamic Kick!


“Well, looks like Crusader’s not going to be creditted for an overtime loss on THAT brawl!” laughs Pete.


“Stop making jokes only you get.” pouts King.


The meatnormous Egyptian sits up, rubbing his jaw with a scowl on his face. Unfortunately for him, he shortly loses his jaw-rubbing privileges, as his arms are suddenly trapped behind him in a chickenwing. And as Johnson begins his approach, and he feels Jay Hawke’s hot breath on his neck, he comes to a realization.



The hunter has become the hunted.





And the hunted just got his head punted into the second row. Crusader slumps to the mat rather uselessly, as across the ring, TORU grows tired of wailing on Candace and instead takes advantage of a distracted Wildchild by grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and the back of his shorts, and flinging him over the top rope! The crowd gasps as Wildchild tumbles headfirst to the floor, sure that he’ll break his neck.



They forget he was a circus acrobat.



The Bahama Bomber quickly extends his arms and lands, light as a feather, on his hands. The crowd applauds, and Wildchild takes a customary bow, bending his spine over backwards before drawing it back upright. Meanwhile, Candace has slumped out of the corner, and decides that she has another easy elimination. Thusly, she hoists herself over the top rope, and immediately delivers a kick to the Human Hurricane’s shins, tipping him over!




Well, it would, but Wildchild spreads his legs before scissoring them back around the unfortunate Candace’s and tugging her off the apron to the floor!






“Eliminated second, and the number eight seed...CANNNDAAACCE...OOOOKIIIIMUUURAAA!!” bellows Funyon as Wildchild quickly scuttles over to the ring and wraps his legs around the bottom rope, finally finding some rest for his weary arms. Still, everyone that saw is impressed, which excludes just about everyone in the ring, as Spike pounds on Johnny, and Cucaracha Internacional continues to mercilessly pummel the Masked Crusader. However, one man was paying attention, and that’s TORU. He seems especially impressed at this show of agility that rivals his own, and remembers only once WC is secured to the ring that he’s in a battle royal.



Unfortunately for him, it’s at this time that Jay and Johnson drop what they’re doing, sprint over, and dump him over the top rope!




“AND OUT GOES THE BIG MAN!!” shouts Pete. “Payback, thy name is Cucaracha Internacional!”



TORU stands up, rage in his eyes, and looks back into the ring as Johnson and Hawke have a hearty chuckle. Referees approach the big man, attempting to corral him to the back, but he’s…well, we’ll say he’s less than complacent, and his shouting is only family-friendly if you don’t understand Japanese.



“Eliminated third, and the number seven seed…TO-RUUU…TAAKAAHAARAAAA!!!” shouts Funyon as the camera cuts away from the disgruntled Saitaman and back to the action in the ring.











The crowd ERUPTS as the secret agent tumbles to the floor, and they intend on getting louder when Funyon makes the elimination official.











…but it never comes.




“What’s going on?” asks Pete, and that’s the crowd’s sentiment as well. A quick glance to the entrance ramp, though, reveals the answer.



All the referees are busy with TORU.



Realizing the situation, Johnny dives back into the ring a split-second before the officials finally convince the Tag Champion to not liquefy Cucaracha Internacional via knee strikes. Spike Jenkins rushes over and begins stomping on the fallen secret agent, but it seems trivial compared to making a third World Title easier to reach.



“Ha! Everyone in that ring is working hard, Pete. Except, of course, Spike and Wildchild. But not only is Johnny working hard, he’s working SMART. A lesser man would have sat there, dumbstruck, until the refs caught him and sent him to the back. Not Johnny. Johnny is a man of CHARACTER.” says King, with enough irony in his statement to mold a well-sized cannonball. Spike stomps Johnny a few more times, but Agent Dangerous is quick to grab the Hollywood Superstar’s foot and take him over with a dragon screw leg whip. Shortly following this, he unleashes a vicious storm of kicks that would surely put anyone down, at least temporarily.



As Cucaracha Internacional has a conversation in the corner, waiting for an opportunity to strike, the Masked Crusader rains forearms on Wildchild. The massive Crusader’s blows are quite stiff, and after only four or five, the Bahama Bomber is brought to his knees.







And from there, he scoots under the Egyptian’s legs before springing to his feet and leaping, twisting himself around for a corkscrew dropkick! The masked man (not that one) goes stumbling into the corner, and the Carribean Cruiser is not far behind, leaping and spinning to smash the Crusader as if he’s an 11th century Muslim soldier with a Blue Crush!!



That doesn’t connect! The giant steps out of the corner and catches the Human Hurricane, and takes a moment to rest before hurling him over his head and out of the ring with a belly-to-belly suplex! But the Wildchild is ready, and he uses his tremendous athleticism to rotate 180 degrees and grab onto the ringpost, saving himself from elimination! His momentum sends him swinging into the steel, but his shinguards save the day and protect his leg from otherwise unavoidable damage!






“What athleticism from Wildchild to keep himself from being eliminated, but now he’s in a precarious position! He’s hanging from the ring post, and he has to use his arms to stay up there, which doesn’t favor Dub Cee. His only real hope is to swing himself around to the apron, but even then, he could easily be knocked off.” says Pete, with concern in his voice.


“Really? You promise?” asks King, with an expression similar to that of a young boy at Kingmas.



Having dispatched of Spike Jenkins, at least for the time being, Johnny gazes around the ring, looking for targets. He spots Cucaracha Internacional, still in the corner, but realizes that even though he has martial arts skills, Johnson has even more, and it would be two-on-one regardless. That leaves two people. Johnny gazes around the ring, and only spots one, Masked Crusader, currently at the corner trying to pull something off the ring post. Curious, Johnny moves to where he can see what Masked Crusader is prying at.




And grins.








Johnny immediately sprints forward, and attempts to muscle the Crusader out of the way to get at his former tag partner. The masked individual is not receptive to this, and with a sweep of his arm, casts Johnny aside. Johnson and Hawke smell blood, and their eyes immediately lock on the struggle going on not 20 feet away from them.


Johnny dashes back in, desperate to get the joy of eliminating his rival, but Crusader once again swats him away like an insignificant gnat. Wildchild is doing a fine job of keeping the Masked Crusader at bay, considering he’s only using sharp kicks to the shins, but he’s not going to be able to hang on much longer. Cucaracha Internacional begins moving towards the ongoing battle, taking their sweet time, knowing that, much like the lions of the Serengeti, they can let the hyenas that are Johnny and Crusader do the dirty work before muscling them out of the way and keeping the kill for themselves.




However, they didn’t account for Johnny Dangerous.




And to do that is an act best described by his surname.




With an almost animalistic look in his eyes, Dangerous sprints back into his own corner before charging headlong at the corner that the struggle occupies. Crusader hears his footsteps, and rolls his eyes before turning around and throwing the mother of all lariats, specifically designed to send the secret agent’s head sailing from Motown to Las Vegas.



Unfortunately for Crusader, Johnny was never going to be in the path of the lariat, as he ducks his head and dives between the middle and top rope before catching him around the waist and driving him to the floor with a suicide spear!



















The vulgar part of the chant is edited out, but everyone knows what’s intended, and most are in complete agreement, especially those in the ring, as Wildchild’s back smacks against the mats on the outside. The fall does Johnny’s knees no favors, but the trajectory of his dive means he avoided elimination, and that’s all that matter right now.


“Eliminated fourth, and the number six seed…WIIIILLLDDCHIIILLLDD!!!” shouts Funyon.



“That was AMAZING!” shouts Pete. “Johnny dove clear through the ropes and flattened Wildchild, and managed to avoid elimination himself! I may dislike his recent attitude, but I can't fault his efficency.


“You most certainly can’t.” says a smug Suicide King.


Refs swarm in, shooing Johnny off of the pancaked form that is the Carribean Cruiser, and attempting to force him back into the ring. Eventually, they realize that this is a futile attempt for now, and so they leave Johnny to grab at his knees, hiss in pain, and be content at the same time as the three men remaining in the ring look at each other.







“DANGEROUS WIZARD!” shouts Pete as the New Straight Edge Sensation’s foot bounces off of the back of the Masked Crusader’s head.



Make that four men. Spike is relatively proud of himself as he stands up, throwing the straight edge X across his chest to cheers from the audience. He’s very happy right now, and he has no plans for becoming unhappy.



Unfortunately, those plans are derailed.



Because he turns around to a very, very bored Cucaracha Internacional. And boredom can drive men to do terrible things.




Johnson is the first to strike, shooting in and sweeping Spike’s legs out from under him with a single-leg takedown. He maintains the hold with one hand, still managing to cause intense pain as he drives his thumb into the Hollywood Superstar’s hamstring. The Canadian folds that leg under the opposite, and grabs a good hold before dropping to one knee and pulling with a standing figure-four leg lock. The sXe beast attempts to struggle out of the hold, but feels a shadow fall over his face. He ignores the pain in his legs to investigate said shadow, and finds it to be Jay Hawke’s leg plummeting down from afar to smash his skull into the canvas. Which it does.






With Hollywood accounted for, Johnson breaks the hold as Jay rises, and they immediately turns their attention back to the man they thoroughly trounced earlier. Crusader turns around from watching Johnny kill himself to find Cucaracha Internacional staring back at him, but this time he’s not laughing at them. As a matter of fact, he throws dual punches that smash into the faces of both men, sending Johnson tumbling to the mat. Jay would follow suit, but Crusader grabs him before he can fall and presses him above his head before turning to the ropes!



“And we’re going to have another elimination, real soon!” cries the Longdogger as Crusader takes a moment to show off his strength by pressing the Dean of Professional Wrestling over his head a few times.



“I don’t think so, Pete.” smirks King, and everyone in the arena soon finds out why King is so arrogant, as Johnson rises to his feet and grabs the Masked Crusader in a rear waistlock.



“Oh, he’s not going to. He can’t. I admit he’s strong for his size, but this...this is ridiculous. He can’t possibly German suplex Crusader while he’s holding Jay.” gasps Pete as Johnson shifts his weight down, getting as much leverage as possible. This is enough to cause Crusader to drop the International Champion, and Jay quickly rolls away. Johnson takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and LIFTS!



Nothing. The Crusader budges slightly, and even gets off the ground, but that’s the extent of his movement. Johnson simply elbows him in the back of the head, lowers his base, takes another deep breath, and LIFTS!




Again, nothing. The crowd is beginning to find this amusing, as is Crusader, and it’s getting rather embarassing for poor JJ Johnson.




And as Scott Pretzler learned 92 days ago, may God have mercy on anyone that embarasses JJ Johnson.


Johnson is quick in action this time around, not trying another lift, but rolling backwards with a Japanese clutch pin.


“What is he doing...” wonders Pete, but he doesn’t get to finish his question, as Johnson rolls through said pin and using the momentum from the roll, TAKES THE MASKED CRUSADER OFF OF HIS FEET AND OVER JOHNSON’S GODDAMN HEAD WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX!!!



A German suplex that, most unfortunately for Spike Jenkins, sends all 270+ pounds of Masked Crusader tumbling directly onto his chest cavity.



“OH MY EVER-LOVING GOD!” shouts Pete, this time his turn to stand bolt upright and shout something. Unlike when King did it, though, nobody gives him any funny looks, largely because they’re doing the exact same thing. A small “Holy Shit” chant starts up in the upper deck, but it’s not large enough to need censoring. Speaking of censoring, the SWF’s cameramen stationed ringside are being sure to avoid Spike Jenkins, who is holding his ribs and swearing with a vigor usually reserved for when he watches Lakers games. Zing. Johnson, meanwhile, is lying on his back, breathing very heavily. Jay is waiting in the corner for someone to get up, and he sees that someone does, as Johnny Dangerous finally decides he’s going to get back into the ring. The Dean rushes the Agent, and Johnny catches him with a uraken backfist!





Hawke bends, but he does not break, and fires back with a kick to Johnny’s knee. The man from Las Vegas swears under his breath and grabs at his wounded appendage as Jay begins throwing punches that smash into his forehead, one after the other.



“This might be a little late to be noticing this, King, but this really isn’t a wrestler’s match. In a match like a battle royal, brawlers have the largest advantage, since the only thing truly effective is strikes and the occasional slam or suplex.” says Pete.


“I agree, Pete. I also think it’s a travesty that technical marvels like Jay and...well, Jay are forced to resort to something they aren’t used to.” retorts King.


Masked Crusader is making his way to his feet as the brawl between Hawke and Dangerous continues, fists flying as the man with the martial arts background begins to get the better of the man with the fine arts background. Deciding that he can take two people out in one fell swoop, Crusader charges forwards, bellowing at the top of his lungs.


Having given such a blatant and, for lack of a better term, retarded warning, Jay and Dangerous easily sidestep the massive man, both using his momentum against him and tossing him out of the ring.


“Eliminated fifth, and the number four seed...the MASKED! CRUUUSAAAAADDDEERRR!!” booms Funyon once more. Both Johnny and Jay give him funny looks, and stare at him for a rather long time. They glance at him, glance back at each other...




...and then the fists are flying again, both men hammering away at each other. Across the ring, Johnson has taken enough of a breather as to force himself off the mat, and Spike mirrors his actions. As they’re doubled over, the two longtime rivals’ eyes meet, and they push whatever pain/shortness of breath they’re going through out of the way to stand upright, neither man showing any weakness to the other. Johnson throws a roundhouse...






...as does Spike, and the two legs collide in mid-air. The Canadian and the Californian lock up, and begin a great deal of shoving, neither man really gaining the advantage as they force each other around the ring, running into corners, ropes, and occasionally Jay and Johnny as they struggle. Meanwhile, Jay throws an errant punch, and Johnny ducks it before grabbing a hold of his arm, tucking it over his head, and lifting...



“EEEEEEEEEMMM-IIIIIIIIIIII...” begins Pete as Dangerous turns, with every intention of dumping Jay over the top. Pete doesn’t get the chance to get to slam, because Johnson frees himself from Jenkins’ grasp before sprinting across the ring and delivering a sliding soccer tackle to Agent Dangerous’ shins, saving Jay from elimination yet again! Johnny drops Jay over the top, but Hawke lands safely on the apron. Spike, mad that he was treated with about the same amount of respect as a dirty shirt or a whiny straight-edger on a losing streak, rushes towards Johnson, apparently attending the Masked Crusader school of “What Not to Do In a Battle Royal”. The Canadian sees him coming and, in a scene eerily reminiscent of last year’s match, casts Spike over his shoulder with a belly-to-belly suplex!







Fortunately, the trajectory for said belly-to-belly was unusually low, and Spike manages to avoid a Sacred Splash™ as he snags onto the top rope and pulls himself onto the apron. Johnny rushes Johnson and throws a hard kick, taking the Ontarian off of his feet, and the two immediately begin to brawl. Spike smiles, knowing for a fact that he has as long as he likes to get back in the ring. Jay rolls back into the ring and takes up post in one of the corners, watching the action as he rests and waits for an opportunity.


Meanwhile, Johnny gives Johnson a hard whip to the ropes, sending him on a crash course with Spike!!




But it’s reversed, and Johnny is sent headlong towards the New Straight Edge Sensation, putting his boot up in an attempt to punt Spike into next week, but more importantly off the apron. Spike ducks though, and comes back up to a very angry Johnny Dangerous. There’s not a lot Johnny can do right now, being hung up in the ropes, and Spike grows even more arrogant regarding his safety.



“416!!” shouts Jay, with a smile on his face, and Spike as well as the rest of the crowd glances at him, wondering why he’s shouting out random numbers.



“What on Earth is 416?” asks Pete, noticeably confused.



“Wait a minute...I know that.” begins King. “That’s the dialing code for Toronto. I know that from calling and checking up on Pretzler. But why would he be shouting that?”



King’s question is soon answered, as is the rest of the arena, as Johnson gets a running head start and swings his body through the ropes, using his momentum to bounce Spike off of the ropes and to the floor!


“Eliminated sixth, and the number four seed...HOLLYWOOD! SPIKE! JEEEEENNNKIIIINNNSS!” calls Funyon as Spike stands up, his eyes wide as Johnson climbs back into the ring.



“Aha! That was Johnson’s heads-up that he was using Landon’s 605! He had to have Jay shout it, because he’s not allowed to yell. Strict voice probation, after all.”



Pete’s assumption is correct, and now we are down to three. JJ Johnson. Jay Hawke. And Johnny Dangerous.



The two members of Cucaracha Internacional stand on one side of the ring, and Johnny stands on the other, and for a moment, it’s nothing but an uncomfortable staredown. JJ and Hawke know Johnny Dangerous is...well, dangerous. Dangerous knows that he’s outnumbered. Finally, Johnson tells Hawke to stay back before stepping forward, offering a challenge to the two-time World Champion. Dangerous accepts, and the two men immediately get into their respective martial arts positions.


“Well, this should be a treat.” says Pete, excited.


“Only if Jay wins.” King pouts, for the second time in the match, ignoring the fact that Jay is standing back against the ropes, just a member of the audience right now.


Johnny strikes first, thrusting out with a shotei, but Johnson parries that and grabs Johnny’s arm before pulling him over his shoulder with an ippon-seoinage. Johnny rolls to his feet and launches a roundhouse, but Johnson is one step ahead of him, on the mat and spinning with a sweep! Johnny’s kicking foot touches down just in time to jump and avoid the blow, but Johnson continues his momentum and uses the same breakdancing prowess he displayed in the Seychelles to spin to his feet before launching a shotei of his own. Now it’s Johnny’s turn to reverse, and he does, grabbing the arm and pulling Johnson into a HARD shotei that snaps the Canadian’s head back. Johnny grins, and ducks down for a sweep, but Johnson keeps his head back and backflips up and out of danger, landing on his feet and trying another soccer kick. Johnny shows his athleticism by kipping up and out of the way, but the Cruiserweight Champion springs to his feet from the slide and spins with a back kick...








Johnson is left straddling the top rope, but it’s a much better situation than Johnny’s in, for certain.


“Eliminated seventh, and the number three seed...JOHNNY...DAAANNNGEROOOOUUSSS!!!!” shouts Funyon for the second-to-last time this match, sounding for all the world like Jimmy Bower.



“Wait a minute, King. Do you know what this means? WILD VS DANGEROUS...IN THE FIRST ROUND!!” shouts Pete, even more excited than before the two J’s began exchanging martial arts tactics.


“Yeah, that’s great.” ho-hums King.


Suddenly, Jay sprints forward and catches Johnson with a shoulder-block, knocking him off the top rope and to the floor!!





Well, actually, it’s to the apron, but Jay wouldn’t know, as he turned around immediately after impact, celebrating. Johnson, however, is less than pleased, and he steps back into the ring, giving Jay a look that could kill children under four. Jay turns, and sees the disgruntled Canadian in his face, and immediately sticks his hands up.


“HOLD ON!” shouts Jay, the cameras picking up his shouting. “THERE’S SWEAT IN MY EYES, I CAN’T SEE VERY WELL. I THOUGHT IT WAS JOHNNY ON THE APRON, AND I APOLOGIZE. NOW,” and at that, Jay sticks out his hand, “LET’S SHOW THESE NINNIES HOW YOU HAVE A WRESTLING MATCH!”



Johnson considers it for a moment, his eyebrow arched as he stares at the hand in front of him. Finally, he decides to take it, and gives it a firm pump before turning to Johnny and mouthing something that looks suspiciously like “You call that a palm strike?”










But again, Johnson saved himself, this time hanging on by only his hands. He skins the cat back into the ring, and the look on his face is unmistakable. Shaking with rage, he turns to Jay, mouthing something that the cameras have to cut away from.






Jay blanches, and is, for once, speechless. He thrusts his hand out again, and Johnson looks at it again, and seems to grow calmer. Finally, he smiles, and draws his hand back to take the handshake in a rather gangster way. Jay is relieved...














For the first time in a while, the crowd agrees with something Johnson did, and they continue to cheer as the Canadian places his foot on Jay’s rump before thrusting him towards the ropes as if he were a moronic interviewer performing the Charleston. Jay bounces against the ropes, back into the waiting arms of Johnson, who hoists him up for a back suplex...




...before RUSHING FORWARD AND THROWING JAY OVER THE TOP ROPE!!! Jay splatters hard, and moans as he holds his back, the fans in the front row reaching out to him, either to say they touched a wrestler or to aggravate his injury, as Johnson falls to his knees in the ring.






“Eliminated eighth, and the number two seed...JAYYY...HAWWKKEE! And ladies and gentlemen, your winner, and the NUMBER ONE SEED...J! J! JOOOHHHHNNSSOOOONNN!”



“Scapegoat” begins blasting out over the Joe, Johnson throwing his arms wide in his signature crucifix pose as he looks up at the sky, all the fatigue he should’ve acquired over the course of the match slamming into him like a runaway semi.






“Ignore my partner,” says Pete, as King’s face is red from screaming at the ring. “But whether he likes it or not, Jay lost, Johnson won, and we’re out of time! Tune in to Smarkdown, folks! Good night!”



The last camera shot of the evening is Johnson kneeling in the ring, looking out over the Joe with one finger raised in the air as we...













SWF Lockdown©

November 16th, 2005

A Raynmaker Production©


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A very good show!


A few nice opening matches, a very, very good Hide-and-Seek match, the return of someone big, and one hell of a Battle Royale!


The Card will be up in about 15 minutes!

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