L0ckdown L0sers

[King Cucaracha 0]

"Generally, we here at the SWF aspire to bring our younger and more family orientated program in our schedule in the form of Lockdown." begins Longdogger Pete as we return from commercials. "Robots, Jimmy The Doom, a different kind of Robot...and some other stuff that it's probably best we all forget. But, tonight, we're going to break from format momentarily and take you to one of hottest spots for Detroit sports fans, The Hockeytown Café, for a very special Hardcore Gamers Title Match. So, at this point, you may want to take the women and children out of the room...this could get nasty."

 

"Pete, go easy on the drama, wouldya?" The Suicide King sighs in response to the over-dramatic intro.

 

"I've got to give fair warning to the people."

 

"Why? Sure, we had a real brutal Hardcore Match at the Pay Per View, people got hurt, yadda yadda yadda. This is different. We're not talking Janus and Bruce Blank in a cemetery in the middle of the night. It's Bruce Blank...and Landon Maddix. In a restaurant. Playing Hide and Seek."

 

"So?"

 

"So? SO!?! Pete, Maddix is about as Hardcore as Swimsuit Monthly. Comparing him to Janus would be laughable. Laughable! HA! HAHA! See. Laughable. Like that. Ha."

 

"..."

 

Pete glances to his side at King and sadly shakes his head.

 

"Regardless of that, you really should send the kids out of the room folks. And not just because we're legally binded to inform you of that. Despite King's thoughts, this couldturn ugly and with Bruce Blank involved, probably will. So, consider yourself forewarned, as we cut over now to Hockeytown Café and join the Hardcore Gamers Title Match."

 

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

Right on cue, over to the outside feed we go and we are outside in Detriot, as Landon Maddix stands at the entrance to the Hockeytown Café gazing upwards at the massive sportsticker scrolling around the building's wall. Behind him, referee Sexton Hardcastle admires the view too with arms folded. Despite the fact that he was unlucky enough to draw the short straw (literally, straws just about meet SWF budgeting rules) and be assigned the Hardcore Title match tonight instead of a cushy Battle Royal payday, Hardcastle seems quite happy. After all, he gets to watch a game while doing his job...and doesn't have to do any real work. Win-win. Except for being stuck travelling to Detroit with Maddix, that is.

 

"Man..." mumbles Maddix to no-one in particular. "What in the HELL am I doing here?"

 

"Not a Hockey fan?" chimes in Hardcastle.

 

"No, it's not that."

 

"Really? You have Hockey in South Dakota then?"

 

Turning his head, Maddix looks at the Hardcastle with destain.

 

"Jesus Sexton, we're not Amish. Of course we have hockey! Just because we haven't got a team in the NHL, doesn't mean we don't have hockey. In actual fact, we've got a pretty good team. Sioux Falls Stampede."

 

"..."

 

"Currently ruling over the rest of the ACHL."

 

"..."

 

Realising Hardcastle is drawing a blank, Maddix sighs and motions for the resident referee to follow him as he strolls towards the entrance. Maddix, despite not seeming too eager about what's in store, strides off ahead of Hardcastle. Who, unsurprisingly, is booed as soon as his referee stripes are spotted by a group of ardent Red Wings fans stood in the lobby. But, ol' Sexton's a trooper and he ignores the boos as he tries to keep pace with Maddix, who is already looking around nervously.

 

"So, how big did you say this place was?" asks Maddix as Hardcastle reaches him.

 

"24,000 square feet."

 

"...well, at least Blank isn't gonna be too hard to find. Just follow the stench of pig slop."

 

 

 

Meanwhile, somebody has found Bruce Blank. A second camera man, conveniently placed inside the restaurant, is right beside Bruce...who, pretty predictably, is at the bar and chugging down a beer. And judging from the collection of empty glasses beside him, it's not his first. Leaning over the bar, Bruce takes a curious glance around in a half-hearted search for his belt, before calling over a nearby bar attendant.

 

"Hey...there ain't no belts behind this bar, is there?"

 

"Uhm, no sir." replies the bar assistant, without actually looking. "Have you tried Lost and Found at the main entrance?"

 

"Lost and Found, eh?" muses Bruce, before shaking his head. "Nah, too obvious. Guess I best start lookin' soon, else that pipsqueak Spaniard's gonna ged'it. *glances at clock* Ah, I still got time. Gimme a whiskey barman...I'm feelin' up market ta'night!"

 

The barman scuttles off as Bruce smiles a contented smile and chugs down the rest of his beer before his next drink arrives. Little does Bruce know, that he's being watched. Infact, he's slowly being advances on, as Landon Maddix has arrived and is creeping up on Blank. Blank is oblivious to this as he taps his fingers on the bar, merrily waiting for his drink, unaware that Maddix is right behind him and...stopping, realising that there's no weaponary handy. Not trusting his fists alone, Maddix panickly looks around for something to use. But he finds himself at a loss for plunder, so settles for simply kicking Blank's stool out from underneath him, causing Bruce to topple to the floor with an awkward, hip first landing.

 

"Dang it!" shouts Blank, clutching at his hip...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

...moments before getting kicked square in the face! Channeling the Kawada within, Maddix quickly grabs a reeling Bruce by the hair and snaps his boot upwards twice more in quick succession, before scrambling over and grabbing Bruce's abandoned bar stool. Maddix then heaves the stool over his head, measuring Bruce, before dropping the seat down across his hip. The stool buckles, one of the legs splintering and snapping on impact. It's now useless, other than as a weapon, which Maddix gladly uses it as a second time as he drives it across the leg.

 

"C'mon Bruce! Surely you aren't legless yet! HAHA!"

 

A small but curious crowd has begun to form around the two SWF superstars by now, not entirely surprised to see a fight in a hockey themed venue but intrigued nonetheless. Some are even cheering Maddix on, despite probably not knowing who he is or why he's laying into a big-ass Alabaman with a bar stool. A third time the stool crashes down into Bruce's upper leg and by now, the seat is totally mangled and little use even as a weapon anymore. So Maddix tosses it casually aside, before searching for something else to use. Luckily, Bruce's Whiskey has arrived by now. Grabbing it off the bar, Maddix takes a quick swig from the glass...but he's not one for alcohol, so instead hovers the glass over Bruce's head with a smirk.

 

 

*SMAASH!*

 

He then drops it, causing the glass to explode into what seems a million shards, right across the back of poor Bruce's head!

 

"AAAH, JESUS!"

 

"Close...but, not quite." smirks Maddix, wiping his hands theatrically at a job well done. Meanwhile, Bruce cries out, but only in temporary pain; he's felt much worse. Still, glass in your skull isn't much fun, even when you're Ultraviolent.

 

"Well, that was easy." smiles an oh, so smug Maddix. "So, where should we start looking then, S'ton?"

 

"S'ton?"

 

"Hate to break it to you, but Sexton's kinda a goofy name. ...so, where's the hockey memorabilia at. The belt's bound to be around there somewhere."

 

Hardcastle points the way and Maddix begins to stroll off in that direction, casually. Far too casually in fact, as suddenly, a hand reaches out from off camera and grasps his ankle, like something out of a horror movie. Stopping cold, Maddix's eyes bulge slowly and dramatically open in fear, like something from a B-level horror movie...maybe C, but I'm feeling generous.

 

"Not so fast, boy!"

 

With no other choice, Maddix turns and tries to wrestle his foot away from Bruce's grasp, but the Ultraviolent Champion is up to his knees and lurches forward with a headbutt that buries itself deep into Maddix's abdomen. And another one. Maddix doubles over, breath knocked out of him, while Blank eases himself up on the bar and grabs one of his empty beer glasses. It's amazing what fear can do to a person though and seeing Blank advancing on him wielding a pint glass and snarling through gritted, bloody teeth sends a sudden adrenaline rush through Maddix's body. Enough for him to dive forward and land an uppercut between the legs of The Alabama Hammer!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Bruce drops to his knees, still clutching the glass despite the agony that he's clearly in. Does him little good though, as Maddix proceeds to kick the glass out of Bruce's hand, before laying into him with a flurry of quick right hands. The hockey fans can relate to this type of offence a little more and cheer on Maddix, before cheering even more as Blank suddenly retaliates with gutshots. Blank's punches are obviously heavier than Maddix and soon Blank is back up to his feet, leathering the now stationary Maddix in the gut a final time before clubbing him across the jaw with a right hook! Maddix sprawls backwards, falling against the bar and staying slumped there. Smiling through the pain, Blank rubs at his head briefly before picking up one of the bar stools, with considerably more ease than his opponent early. Bruce then adjusts his grip, so he's holding the base of the legs, before swinging the stool down like a club right into the spine of La Cucaracha!!

 

 

Taking the stool in another, more baseball like grip, Blank waits for Maddix to turn to meet him before swinging the stool with frightening ease. Luckily for Maddix though, he sees it in time and ducks his head. The stool carries on flying, over Maddix hurtling past the bar and through the selection of spirit bottles mounted on the wall behind, sending glass and alcohol flying. Which Blank would usually mourn. But he's too busy to weep over wasted alcohol now, as Maddix has set off and is now running for higher ground.

 

"C'MON YOU LIL' RUNT!" yells Blank, pushing through the crowds. "FIGHT LIKE A MAN!"

 

"NO!" yelps Maddix from in amongst the bodies.

 

"I'M'A KICK YOUR ASS WHEN I CATCH YOU!"

 

Emerging from through the small crowd, Blank ends up at the other end of the room and stops dead. Maddix has disappeared. Looking around, there's no door or window that Maddix could have escaped from, leaving Bruce confused. Either Maddix has run for the hills and is looking for the belt, or he's lying in wait ready to sneak attack the Champion. And after some quick pondering, Blank figures as it's Maddix, it must be the former.

 

 

"AH HA!"

 

*WHOOSH!*

 

He was wrong. But, at least he ducked the hockey stick aimed at his head.

 

"...crap."

 

Grabbing the errant hockey stick on the second swing, Blank rips it from the grip of the ambushing Maddix, booting him quickly in the gut...

 

 

*CR - AAACK!*

 

 

...AND BREAKING IT CLEAN IN HALF OVER HIS BACK!! Maddix falls to hands and knees with a low groan for all to hear, as Blank tosses away the lower half of the stick and instead grabs Maddix by the hair. The bigman from Alabama has little trouble pulling Maddix up by the hair. And even less throwing him face-first into the bar, with enough force for Landon to recoil and stumble back across the floor and over a table. A few of the people in the bar haven't got up to crowd around, but even they are getting into the spirit of things, patting Maddix on the chest as he sprawls across their table. Maddix shrugs them away, but he's clearly hurt.

 

Meanwhile, across the room, Blank is taking advantage of the heavily propped bar and grabs a replica Red Wings helmet from off the wall. He's not a hockey fan and even if he was, he wouldn't support the Red Wings. But, it'll have to do.

 

"Aw yeah, now we're gettiin' somewhere!" smiles Bruce as he manages to get the helmet partway on his head, but no more. That doesn't bother him though, as he grabs Maddix's legs and splays them. The people around the table know what's coming and encourage Bruce to 'do it'. So he does....

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

...headbutting Maddix right in the lower nutsack region, with helmet assist!

 

"YOU WAN'ANOTHER!?!" yells Bruce to the people around the table, to which they smile.

 

"YEAH!"

 

"YEAH!"

 

"HELL YEAH!"

 

"...no!"

 

"Whoop, three to one!"

 

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Poor Landon is outvoted and gets another helmet assisted headbutt between the legs. Writhing in pain, Maddix topples into the laps of the restaurant's patrons, while Bruce pulls off the helmet with a huge, country boy grin on his unshaven face.

 

"You know...I really should be gettin' ma belt by now...but dang it, I'm just havin' too much fun." Bruce kindly informs the nearby camera as he grabs Maddix and drags him from the laps of the applauding Red Wings' fans. Hauling him away from the table and letting him slump to the floor, Bruce then measures Landon, before driving a big cowboy boot into the side of his head. Landon rolls a few feet across the floor. Far enough for Bruce to get a small run up, before leaving his feet and dropping a rather cautious leg across his throat! The legdrop does Bruce's hip no favours, but he grits his teeth and ignores the pain while pulling himself up.

 

"Bartender...another whiskey, when'ya ready."

 

The rather horrified attendant behind the bar scuttles off, trying to find a whiskey bottle that wasn't destroyed by the errant stool. Meanwhile, Blank clears the bar with a large sweep of his huge hamhock, sending his empty beer glasses shattering to the floor. He has something planned, clearly, as he drags Maddix off the floor again and sets, lifting Maddix into his arms. From there, Blank then heaves...and presses Maddix clear above his head with a Gorilla Press!

 

"OH GOD!"

 

The crowd quickly back off a little more, as Blank then surveys the scene, displaying his strength to all and sundry...

 

 

 

*THUD!*

 

*OOOOF!*

 

 

...before dropping Maddix face-first, lengthways across the bar. And there Maddix stays, seemingly knocked silly from the heavy landing, as Bruce shrugs.

 

"Guess I best git huntin' then."

 

And with that, Bruce then walks out of shot, with Maddix left lying motionless on the bar. Returning moments later is the bar attendant, a little taken aback at the human carcass that lays on his previously pristine bar, enough so that he decides to down the whiskey in his hand himself.

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

"Wow!" gasps Longdogger Pete, as we return momentarily to the arena. "Bruce Blank just decimated Landon Maddix and has apparantly left him laying while he retrieves his belt."

 

"Rest assured, if the rules didn't mean Bruce had to search an entire restaurant for his title, he'd just be getting started." smiles King. "I'm not sure he did enough damage though. If Maddix recovers, chances are he'll luck out as usual and fall ass over head right by the belt."

 

"You're right King. This match is as much about luck as it is skill. But obviously, if you incapacitate your opponent, you have more time to search."

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

And search is exactly what Bruce Blank is doing as we re-join the match and Bruce strolling through the Hockeytown Cafe, seemingly trying to think of some sort of strategy. If he can get into the minds of the SWF officials, then maybe he can guess where to try first. Obviously, it's not going to be anywhere too public. That'd be too easy. But...then again, maybe that's what they WANT him to think. Maybe it's a double bluff. Bruce has read about that sort of thing. He studied physchology.

 

 

Well, okay, he found a mangled copy of Science Weekly at a bus stop once. But damnit, he read a couple of pages in between looking at the pictures.

 

"Excuse me missy." Bruce politely smiles as a young woman passes him. "Could ya tell me which way to the restroom?"

 

"Certainly. Down the hall, take the second lef...well, that's the women's restroom. I assume you don't want that. *smiles*"

 

"Nah, one more offence like that and they throw me in the clink." sighs Bruce, to a raised eyebrow from the woman.

 

"Uh...well, I think the men's is right on down the hall."

 

"Thanks missy, mighty good of ya."

 

Bruce strides off down the hallway, as the women exhales, having held her breath just long enough to avoid the smell of beer coming from Brucey's mouth."

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

"You know...if the belt was in the restroom, surely someone would have stolen it by now." muses Pete.

 

"I doubt it. Like I told you before, the belts are pretty much worthless since I implemented my sweeping cost cutting scheme back in the day."

 

"Ah, yes, the great aluminimum collection of 2003, I remember now."

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

Staggering out of the bar, Landon Maddix still looks extremely groggy. Then again, a 7 foot drop onto a wooden bar would do that to a guy. Stumbling through the hallways, The Next Generation is followed through the crowds of Red Wings fans by Sexton Hardcastle, who has only just been able to check Landon's condition.

 

"Where'd Bruce go?" Maddix mumbles as he suddenly stops. "Did you see him?"

 

"No, I'm sorry La..."

 

"No, no. Don't be sorry. Let him be. I think I've proved all I need to prove against him already." Maddix checks his nose is still at the same angle it was earlier. "No, I need to find the belt. Now...I just have to think. Where would they put it? The head office likes screwing me around, so it's probably in the last place I'd want it to be. Like at the bottom of a toilet or something. That'd figure."

 

Maddix pauses and looks at Hardcastle despairingly.

 

"You don't think..."

 

Hardcastle shrugs. Maddix sighs.

 

"Which way?"

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

"Uh-oh..."

 

"Anyone in that restroom right now is in for a BIIIG surprise." beams King.

 

"Well, apparantly we're having trouble getting cameramen in the right place at the right time. We seem to have lost track of Bruce Blank. King, were the cameramen by any chance affected by your cost cutting schemes?"

 

"Hey, if you wanna keep that Lazyboy you're sat in, you'll quit complaining."

 

"Well...it is kinda comfy."

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

Luckily, we still have a camera on Landon Maddix as we switch back, just as Maddix has reached the bathroom. Stopping at the door, Maddix shakes his head and wonders just why he's doing, this before entering...and freezing in shock. For the stall in front of him is in use.

 

And all that can be seen are two cowboy boots.

 

"So, where do we sta..."

 

"Ssssshhhhh! Sssh!" hisses Maddix, pointing out the boots to Hardcastle.

 

"Sorry."

 

"This won't take a minute...stand back."

 

Hardcastle seems confused but does as he's told, as Maddix suddenly backs up and takes a run-up to the stall, before booting the door...

 

 

 

...and retreating, whining and holding his foot. Maddix hops around on the spot holding his foot, as slowly the door opens and a thick Alabama voice causes Maddix's eyes to bulge open.

 

"What'chu doin' boy?"

 

"I'm kicking your a...ah...who the hell are you!?!"

 

Yep, it wasn't Bruce.

 

Yep, there just happened to be another person from Alabama wearing cowboy boots in the restaurant.

 

And yep, he does have his pants around his ankles, but luckily everything is obscured from vision.

 

"I'm a guy tryin' to take a crap, who the hell are you?"

 

"Look, I'm sorry...I mistook you for someone else. Listen, I'm really sorry. Just please, for the love of all that's holy, don't stand up." Maddix pleads, before snapping back to his senses. "Listen, I don't suppose you've seen any belts around here. Big, championship style belts."

 

"Nah. Hadn't seen any when the other guy asked me neither."

 

"Other guy?"

 

"Yeah. Some big ass redneck, he was."

 

"And, where did he go?"

 

"Dunno. He muttered somethin' 'bout bein' hungry and then walked off. Now, if ya don't mind, I got'sme some business to take care of."

 

The guy in the stall closes the door (thankfully), leaving Maddix to turn to Hardcastle and look at him in confusion.

 

"Hungry?"

 

Hardcastle shrugs.

 

"He's from Alabama, so he's got no money..."

 

"HEY!" protests the guy from behind the toilet door.

 

"I'll bet he's gone to the kitchens. C'mon, let's go!"

 

"Wait! Aren't you gonna wash your hands?"

 

Maddix glares at Hardcastle, before leaving. Without washing his hands.

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

"Can you believe that?" chuckles Pete.

 

"I can't believe he didn't wash his hands! All that money the government spends on campaigns, wasted! Impressionable kids watch this show you know! Maddix should be fired on the spot!"

 

"Sigh!"

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

Into the main eatery area we go (which, to be honest, could be anywhere in the building, because I really don't have a clue what it looks like), but Landon Maddix and Sexton Hardcastle aren't in the mood for eating. Well...Sexton is. But he doesn't have much of a choice, as he's dragged by Maddix to the door that clearly leads to the kitchen. Curiously, no-one tries to stop them from getting in. Infact, nobody seems to dare to. Maybe because someone already tried? Who knows.

 

Stepping over a motionless body in front of the door, with a boot imprinted on his forehead, Maddix pulls Hardcastle in front of him and smiles re-assuringly.

 

"Okay, after you."

 

"ME!?!" wails Sexton. "Are you crazy!?!"

 

"But he might have the belt. And if I go in first, I might boot him, grab the belt and pretend that I found it first. And then you'd be under investigation from shoddy officiating. Now, haven't you had enough of that this year?"

 

Hardcastle solemnly nods, before veeeeery cautiously entering the kitchens. Maddix waits with an ear to the door, for an possible howls or screams or clangs and pangs...but, there's nothing. So, either Hardcastle's been KOed before he could scream...or the coast is clear. All the same, Maddix grabs a couple of empty plates on a stack beside him before slowly entering. To find Hardcastle safe and well.

 

"No sign?" asks Maddix.

 

"Well, I sure didn't scare him off."

 

"Nevermind that. Start looking, we've got a lot of ground to cover here."

 

"Uh...technically, I shouldn't."

 

"Technically, you owe me. Remember? What happened in the brothe..."

 

"Yeahyeahyeah, say no more."

 

Smiling, Maddix pats Hardcastle on the back before setting to work searching for the belt. Curiously, there seem to be no actual cooks in the kitchens. Infact, there's no-one in the kitchen. There is a splattering of red liquid on the floor in front of Landon, but that could be anything. Right? Still clutching the plates, Maddix strolls down one 'aisle' of the kitchen, glancing around for any immediate signs. But he finds nothing, so stoops down to check under one of the work surfaces.

 

 

*GGAAAAAHH!*

 

And a large hand grips him around the throat.

 

"REMEMBER ME!?!"

 

Crawling out from under the table, Blank continues to choke the life out of Maddix with a hefty grin on his face. Dragging Maddix around, the bigman then backs Maddix up and SLAMS him backwards into a door which presumably leads to the big freezer. Blank then drags Maddix out again, still holding him by the throat.

 

 

*SMAAAASH!*

 

But suddenly, porcelain chunks fly across the kitchen, as Maddix desperately breaks one of the plates over Bruce's head!

 

 

*SMAAAASH!*

 

And the other one! Stumbling backwards, Blank falls against the same door used moments ago, as Maddix catches his breath before charging and forearming Bruce right in the jaw! A large cut has been opened up on Bruce's head from the plates and Maddix has seen it, targeting the forehead with a quick succession of right hands. The punches aren't particularly damaging to Bruce, but the cut has been opened up badly now and he's still not 100% from Ashes to Ashes, so can't seem to fight back as Maddix finally stops his onslaught and retreats. Woozy from blood loss, Blank slumps against the door. Just as Maddix charges, aiming the laces of his boot right at the gash with a Running BOOTSCRAPE~!

 

"Lan-don's-go-nna-kill-you! HAHA! C'mon you redneck, get up!"

 

Landon accompanies the verbal abuse with a slap to the face. Big mistake, as Bruce reaches up and grabs Landon by the front of his jeans, hauling him forwards and face-first into the heavy metal door! Maddix staggers backwards and collapses as Blank eases himself up. The blood from the forehead and the glass cuts from earlier are bothering him, which is a first. Maybe he isn't as healty post-Janus as he thought. But all the same, he grabs Maddix by the hair and pulls him back up. Pulling him over to the sink, Bruce grabs a bar of soap on the side and smiles.

 

"Now, how'bout we wash out that potty mouth, sonny?"

 

"No, no...anything but that..."

 

Bruce shrugs.

 

"Okay." concedes Blank, instead slamming Landon's head into the edge of the sink! Landon falls to his knees clutching his face, while Bruce tosses the soap away. Oh, the irony. Instead, he grabs a handful of Landon's hair, picking him up before effortlessly throwing Maddix up onto the kitchen workstation. Maddix slides a foot or so before coming to a stop, which he doesn't really want, trying to crawl away. Bruce stops with with a haymaker to the side of the head though. He then lands a haymaker to the left kidney area, before looking up to his left, where a mass of cutlery hangs above his head. And a smile creeps over his face as he reaches up and grabs a rather large looking fork. Bruce admires the weapon with a wry smile, turning around...

 

 

 

*OOOOOF!*

 

...but gets caught, right in the gut, with a wooden, spiked, meat mallet! And it does it's job, tenderising Bruce's flesh and leaving him doubled over with a hand on the workstation. Maddix rolls off to the floor, still wielding the kitchen implement and landing a shot into the ribs! Bruce's already torn up midsection from A2A is getting re-torn now, as Maddix wields the weapon again...and lands another shot to the ribs. Blank is in agony now and collapses in a heap on the floor. Standing over him with the mallet, Maddix measures Blank...but suddenly, a thought occurs to him.

 

"SEXTON! OPEN UP THE FREEZER!"

 

Hardcastle turns his head, looking a little surprised at the request. But he isn't one to quibble and rushes over across the kitchen to do what was asked of him. Meanwhile, Maddix bends down and starts to claw at Bruce's face, trying to open up the cut even deeper and even wider than it currently is.

 

"I CAN'T!"

 

"Oh, for crying out loud." sighs Maddix, stumbling over towards Hardcastle. "Must I remind you again about the brothel and the hooke..."

 

"No, I mean I can't. It's jammed."

 

 

"I can explain that." groans Blank, pulling himself gingerly up across the kitchen. "I...kinda...OW!...I kinda...locked the cooks in there. An'...I made sure they couldn't git' out by...hitting the lock a few times..."

 

"With what?"

 

"Oh...just with...THIS!"

 

Suddenly, Bruce Blank pulls a lead-pipe from under the workstation and Maddix suddenly flicks back into B-level horror movie mode. Walking with pain clear on his face, Blank advances on Maddix with the pipe and Maddix, understandably, backs the hell off. Seeing this, Bruce smiles a little. He can keep Maddix at bay with the pipe. And at the same time, he can search around the kitchen...which he does, knocking over a few boxes stacked in the corner and checking for any belts that happen to be laying within.

 

"C'mon, thi...this isn't fair!"

 

"Just be lucky I ain't beatin' you senseless." growls Blank as he checks behind some more boxes stacked in the corner.

 

"Well...c'mon Sexton, get the pipe off him!"

 

"You're kidding, right?" stutters Hardcastle, huddled in the corner sucking his thumb.

 

"CALL YOURSELF A REFEREE!" Maddix snaps, before reaching behind him, fumbling blindly for a weapon and grabbing the first thing that comes to hand. "AH HA!!"

 

 

"...a colander?" snickers Bruce.

 

But snicker he shouldn't, as Maddix suddenly charges at him with the deadly weapon. Blank quickly wields the pipe and swings for Maddix, but he skids to his knees across the floor, crawling quickly through a bemused Bruce's legs. Coming to his feet before Blank can gain his bearings, Maddix then swings the colander with all his might, clocking Blank right between the eyes with the metal tool! Bruce reels backwards with small circles imprinted on what part of his forehead isn't sliced open...but he shakes off the effects with a beaming smile.

 

"One of them newfangled lightweight things." Blank says in dis-approval, before swinging the lead pipe...but Maddix blocks with the colander! Blank swings again...but again Maddix blocks!

 

"Pretty good shield though, huh?"

 

 

"UUUGGGGHHH!"

 

Not against shots between the legs it isn't, as Blank catches Maddix gloating and boots him low! Tossing the pipe away, Blank looks around briefly, but still can't seem to find the title, at least in immediate eyeshot. So instead, he grabs Maddix again, looking to deliver more punishment. Starting with a right hand that sends Maddix sprawling over the workstation. Smiling, Bruce's attention is taken by the stove beside him. Not good.

 

"Now, how's about we heat things up, eh?"

 

"No, Bruce, that's too far!" protests Hardcastle.

 

"Aw, come on. I ain't gonna cook him! Just...burn 'im a lil'." Blank replies, as he casually turns one of the knobs on the stove which seems to start it up. "So, tell me Sexton. How'd'ya like your scrawny rat...well-done, or burnt to a crisp?"

 

 

 

*THUD!*

 

Bruce doesn't get an answer though. And had he done, he wouldn't have heard it, as it's disguised by the dull thud of wooden chopping block on Alabama cranium! Eyes crossed and brains scrambled, Blank collapses to one knee, as Maddix drops the chopping board and launches into Bruce with a sudden, straight kick! Landon's boot slams into Bruce's face and he slumps in a heap, while Maddix pulls himself quickly back up, or as quickly as possible at least. Now's his chance. Bruce is down and dazed, so he's got the kitchen to himself to search for the belt.

 

The belt that'll mean being champion of the Hardcore Division.

 

The belt that'll mean...

 

 

...more of THIS?

 

"Screw this." groans Maddix, clutching his groin. "I'm outta here."

 

"Wha...what?" asks a clearly confused (boy, he sure gets confused a lot, huh?) Hardcastle. "You've got to get the belt to be Champion."

 

"You know what...I don't want the belt. Not if it means fighting for my life night in and night out."

 

Turning back to Bruce, Maddix bends down towards Bruce's face.

 

"Bruce, congratulations buddy, you're welco...GAAAHH!"

 

But suddenly, a hand reaches up, grasping Maddix by the throat. Maddix should probably expect this by now, but he doesn't and Blank manages to pull himself up before Maddix can counter at all, taking Maddix and hurling him across the floor with a huge beil! Skidding to a halt, Maddix clutches his back in agony, while Blank sniffs the air and pulls a disgusted face.

 

"Man, whatever they's got in that stove stinks."

 

Maddix is now trying to crawl for the exit. But Bruce has re-found his masochistic side and he's enjoying the chance to beat up on someone smaller than him. He knows this is chance to erase the memory of Janus from people's minds and he's determined to do it in style. Grabbing Maddix by the hair, Bruce drags him off the floor and slams a headbutt across Maddix's own cranium. Blood from Blank's forehead smears across Maddix's face, as a second headbutt is slammed into Landon's head, causing him to stumble backwards and fall right in front of the lit stove. Bringing a sick, sadistic smile to Bruce's face. He has something seriously Ultraviolent in mind. Something that might even go BEYOND Ultraviolence. And as he strolls towards the fallen Cucaracha, Bruce can already see the publicity he's going to get. The statement he's going to make. And if Landon doesn't do something about it, he's going to be toast. Like, literally.

 

Lucky then that Maddix manages to shoot out his legs, wrapping them around Bruce's and causing him to tumble forward in a modified drop toe hold.

 

 

*BOOF!*

 

 

"AAAAOOWWWWWW!"

 

Throwing his hands up despairingly, Blank still crashes headfirst into the stove door, with enough force for the door to buckle and slowly creep open. Blood is now gruesomly smeared down the door as Blank groggily rolls away from the door. And as he does, the door slowly opens a little more. Causing Maddix to cover his nose, choking from the disgusting stench from within.

 

"Ugh!" groans Maddix, not altogether consciously. "I'm sure not...eating here...tonight."

 

"Yeah, I've never smelt anything like that. Almost like...burning leather."

 

Still a little dis-orientated pulls himself up to his knees in front of the oven, with the smell of burning leather coming from it.

 

 

 

 

 

Burning leather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

...jesus he's slow, huh?

 

"Wait a minute..."

 

"What?"

 

"...if Bruce had that leadpipe, why didn't he club me and you as soon as we walked into the kitchen?"

 

 

...

 

 

 

"Wait a minute...burning leather?"

 

Finally, it's clicked and Maddix curiously looks in the stove. And sure enough, sat on a single baking tray, sits the Hardcore Gamers Championship! Maddix eyes light up instantly, but whether it's in delight or despair is arguable, as he's found the prize. And it's not like he can pretend he can't, because Sexton Hardcastle has seen it and grabs Maddix's arm before hauling it in the air.

 

"WE HAVE A WINNER!"

 

"Oh. Uh, yay?"

 

"Well, what are you waiting for!?!" beams Hardcastle. "It's yours!"

 

Maddix looks up at Hardcastle and he really, really doesn't seem convinced. But hey, as he's being handed it on a silver platter...literally...who is he to argue? So, with a shrug, Landon reaches out and grabs the belt...

 

 

 

 

"AAAAH, DAMNIT!"

 

...before suddenly realising it's searing hot and dropping it from his burnt fingertips.

 

 

"Uh...well, I guess that counts. Congratulations Landon."

 

"Thanks. Let's just...wait until that cools down and then, get the hell out of here."

 

Just as Maddix says this, Bruce Blank groans and begins to stir.

 

"...on second thoughts, how about we just run like hell?"

 

Glancing hurriedly around, Maddix grabs the colander he used earlier from beside him and tosses the belt in that before he and Hardcastle begin to make a very hasty escape. Leaving Bruce Blank, slowly coming to his senses, as yet unaware that his belt is...well, no longer his.

 

--------------------------------------------------

 

 

Meanwhile, back in the arena, Funyon is in the ring.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...your winner of the match and the NEEEEEWWW S-W-F HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION... LLLAAANNDDOOONN "LA CUCARACHA" MMMAAAADDIIIIXXXX!!!"

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

The fans in the arena don't like it, at all, and voice their displeasure at poor, scapegoat Funyon.

 

"I KNEW it!" snaps a bitter Suicide King. "I KNEW he'd luck out! He ALWAYS lucks out! You know, sometimes I think somewhere up there has a thing about teasing me."

 

"Landon Maddix, the luckiest man in the Hockeytown Café tonight! Or, perhaps, the unluckiest, depending on how you look at it. He's the new Hardcore Champion but to be honest, I get the impression he's not too thrilled about it."

 

"Would YOU be?"

 

"I was, remember?"

 

"Yes, I know. But if you were Landon Maddix, would you be?"

 

"...good point."

Edited November 17, 2005 by King Cucaracha

[Justice 0]

Alright, first off, I'll say that your match had much better prose. I like your writing style a TON, and you have a great handle on character writing, especially dialogue.

 

My biggest problem is that you didn't do anything with the setting, really. You can tell me that you've never been there, but I linked the site, and I might be wrong, but I'll bet Bruce hasn't been there either. He simply found the Highlight page (I probably should have linked you to that, in retrospect).

 

But even if you haven't been there, I haven't had a chance to go (I'm a poor college student. So sue me...) there, and if you made up inventive stuff, I would have believed you. I just wanted to give you a setting that you could a lot with, even made up stuff. If you had fought on a giant pair of hockey sticks in one of the rooms, if you had destroyed the animatronic Gordie Howie that tells stories to the little ones in Coach's Corner, I'd have thought it'd be hilarious.

 

I liked a lot of parts in the match, I thought where it was found was kind of inventive (If a bit... awkward), and you have a definite advantage in maybe just pure writing ability... but I felt like the match itself (The pre-match stuff was good, too) just didn't do the stipulation justice.

[JJ Johnson 0]

My grandfather used to babysit Gordie Howe's kids. True story.

 

 

As for the topic, Judge is right. I haven't been there, but if you'd made stuff up, I would've believed you. Creativity is key to matches like these (hence my awful record in the hardcore division), and you shouldn't let the fact that you've never been hinder your gallons upon gallons of imaginative writing. If you can pull off a stilts match, you can pull off a match in a sports-themed cafe.

[JHawk 0]

I'm curious as to what people thought of my battle royal. I've never written one of these in quite this style before, so any feedback is appreciated.

 

Even at 158 days as International Champion, I could still learn a thing or two on occasion.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Pete: “And we are down to our huge main event here on Family Friendly Lockdown. Coming up next, we’ll have the huge battle royal to determine the seedings for the Cold Front Classic tournament, with the eventual winner getting a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship at…um…”

 

King: “You’d think they’d change the name of that pay-per-view to coincide with the family-friendly rules, wouldn’t you?”

 

Pete: “At any rate, nine people compete tonight. One person will be eliminated in the early stages of the match tonight. The other eight move on to determine the seedings and pairings for the remainder of the tournament.”

 

King: “The winner will be the number one seed. He takes on the eighth place finisher. The second place winner takes on the seventh place winner, and so on and so forth.”

 

Pete: “And if you’ll recall, Landon Maddix won the battle royal last year, became the number one seed, and not only went on to win the tournament, but he wound up winning the SWF World Heavyweight Championship.”

 

King: “And when the referee called for the bell that night, an angel lost its wings.”

 

Pete: “We’ll show you the complete brackets before we go off the air tonight. But right now, we go to Funyon for the introductions of this main event matchup.”

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a nine-person over the top rope battle royal to determine the seedings in the Cold Front Classic Tournament! Here are the rules. Elimination occurs when a wrestler, either by force or by his own volition, is thrown over the top rope with both feet hitting the arena floor. The first wrestler eliminated is eliminated from further competition in the tournament. The second man eliminated will be the eighth seed, the third man will be the seventh seed, and so on, with the winner being the number one seed in the tournament. The eventual winner of the tournament will be declared the number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship and receive a title shot at an upcoming pay-per-view event!”

 

King: “OK, we get it! Geez, it’s only a two hour show!”

 

Funyon: “And now, introducing the participants.”

 

"ALLOW ME TO RE-INTRODUCE MYSELF!"

 

"MY NAME IS..."

*BOOM!*

Large, maroon pyro goes off and the Masked Crusader steps onto the ramp, walking coldly to the ring.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first. From Cairo, Egypt, weighing in at 273 pounds … THE MASKED CRUSADER!”

 

Pete: “And here’s a man we know very little about, King.”

 

King: “I know he’s big, I know he wears a mask, and I’m sure he has to be better than last year’s tournament winner, Landon Maddix.”

 

“China Girl” by David Bowie comes over the PA.

 

Funyon: “From Tokyo, Japan, and weighing in at 124 pounds … CANDACE … “The Joshi Dragon” … OKIMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURA!”

 

 

“YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

 

 

Pete: “And I’m not sure there’s ever been a bigger underdog in a battle royal like this, King.”

 

King: “Well, MacDougal, I know this. She picked up a huge win at Ashes 2 Ashes a couple of weeks ago, but there’s no way she can last in there tonight. She’s obviously the first one eliminated and the one person watching the Cold Front Classic on television.”

 

“Johnny Dangerous!”

 

Suddenly, the lights dim, and a sultry female voice breathes the name of the SWF’s resident super-spy. “After The Flesh” by My Life With The Thrill Kill Cult begins to thump through the crowds. Smoke fills the stage as tons of strobes cut through it and Johnny Dangerous walks out onto center stage.

 

Funyon: “From Las Vegas, Nevada … weighing in at 217 pounds … “The Barracuda” … JOHNNY DANNNNNNNNNNGEROUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!”

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

King: “Now here’s one of the odds-on favorites, Pete!”

 

Pete: “He’s certainly got a chance of winning the entire tournament, but he’s going to have to get by his former tag team partner first.”

 

King: “Wildchild? He’ll eliminate himself before he ever gets both feet in the ring!”

 

The house lights dim and Mastodon's "Crusher Destroyer" hits, as multi-colored strobes flash and pulse in time with the music. The anticipation swelling and the buzz in the arena reaching a fever pitch, Manson walks out moments later to a large, resounding amount of boos.

 

Funyon: “From Denver, Colorado … weighing in at 260 pounds … MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANSOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”

 

King: “Do you think anybody will explode tonight?”

 

Pete: “I don’t know. I doubt it.”

 

King: “I mean, Spike Jenkins is out there tonight, and a lot of people think he might actually be the World Champion right now had he not been blown up into about 180 pieces two weeks earlier.”

 

Pete: “Um…that’s supposed to be like Bobby Ewing dying. It never happened.”

 

King: “Who?”

 

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

 

 

And then *BAM*

 

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

 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

 

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

 

Funyon: “From Hollywood, California … weighing 220 pounds … ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE JENNNNNNNNNNKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS!”

 

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

 

King: “Spike, it’s a battle royal, not an episode of Love Connection! Do a little less with the entrance!”

 

“Bouncin’ Back” by Mystikal comes on the PA.

 

Funyon: “From the Bahamas … weighing in at 214 pounds … WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILDCHIIIIIIIIILD!”

 

Pete: “And take a look into his eyes, King. No frills, no pyro. Just a look of determination.”

 

King: “And all eyes focused on Johnny Dangerous, but he’d better remember there’s seven other people in there that he needs to worry about.”

 

The lights drop out.

 

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

 

And with that, the opening notes of Fear Factory's "Scapegoat" burst forth from the speakers, the lights flashing red and white on the two grungy tones before dropping back into black.

 

Funyon: “From Windsor, Ontario, Canada … weighing in at 219 pounds … the SWF Cruiserweight Champion … JJ JOHNSON!”

 

The Smarktron kicks into life, showing various highlights from JJ Johnson's matches, as the lights continue to flash on the notes, alternating red and white with each tone that emanates from the sound system. The drums kick in, and the house lights fade in, only slightly, bathing the arena in an eerie blood red light as smoke begins to billow from the stage...

 

RRRRRRRRRRAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

 

...before Burton C. Bell's throaty growl comes tearing out of the speakers, and with it comes Johnson, his already somewhat intimidating look accented by the flashing lights. The Canadian strides forward, his eyes never leaving his opponent as he trots up the steps before stepping into the ring and climbing to the second rope, throwing his arms wide as he glares out over the crowd. After a moment, he steps back down, and removes his jacket before stretching/standing there/juggling chainsaws/whatever.

 

Pete: “What, no comments about Johnson’s elaborate entrance?”

 

King: “Nah. Johnson’s entrance is good, unlike Spike’s.”

 

‘Teethgrinder’ by Therapy starts up causing everyone in the arena to start booing.

 

Funyon: “From Saitama Prefecture, Japan … weighing in at 264 pounds … one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions … TORU Takahara!”

 

Pete: “And here comes TORU. No trademark trenchcoat, no managers as they’ve all been barred from ringside…just himself and his natural abilities.”

 

King: “Are you sure managers have been barred from ringside?”

 

Pete: “I’d certainly hope so.”

 

King: “This is wrestling, Pete. Managers are never barred from ringside, even when creative control says they’re barred from ringside.”

 

“Learning to Fly” by Pink Floyd comes on the PA.

 

Funyon: “And finally, from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … the SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

King: “And if anybody knows how to outlast eight men at one shot, it’s this guy here! For over five months, he has been the International Champion. And now he’s just five matches away from becoming the World Heavyweight Champion and dominating that championship too!”

 

Pete: “The International Champion is about to enter the ring. And when he does, the bell will ring, and nine men will face each other for the honor of competing in the Cold Front Classic.”

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Pete: “And they’re off!”

 

King: “Pete, it’s a wrestling match, not the Kentucky Derby.”

 

And it’s a wrestling match that starts off with eighteen fists flying, as people begin to throw punches almost as a self-defense mechanism. After a few seconds, wrestlers begin to pair off. Wildchild with JJ Johnson. Spike Jenkins with Jay Hawke. The Masked Crusader with Candace Okimura. Johnny Dangerous with Manson.

 

King: “And look at TORU! He’s made his way back into a corner, and he’s going to let everybody else beat each other up.”

 

Pete: “He only needs to do that long enough for one person to get eliminated and guarantee himself a spot in the tourney.”

 

And it would have worked too, if he hadn’t gotten spotted by Wildchild out of the corner of his eye. Wildchild backs JJ Johnson up with a couple of forearm smashes, then runs into the ropes. Johnson sees him coming and ducks for a backdrop, but Wildchild lands on his feet and makes a beeline to TORU Takahara, leveling him with a dropkick that backs him up against the turnbuckle. Wildchild immediately reaches for his legs to try and elevate him for the elimination, but TORU stops that by raking the Bahama Bomber’s eyes with his bootlaces.

 

Meanwhile, JJ Johnson has gone over to help Jay Hawke with Spike Jenkins. They pepper Spike with a series of forearm smashes, alternating which side of the head they’re hitting. Candace Okimura runs in out of nowhere, attempting to dive onto Jay Hawke, but Hawke catches the much smaller joshi favorite in midair. Hawke presses her over his head, seemingly prepared to dump her over the top rope, but Candace grabs the top rope to balance herself, then spins around to take the Dean of Wrestling down with a modified arm drag takedown. She turns around, only to get met face-to-foot with a roundhouse kick from JJ Johnson that nearly has her head rolling to nearby Cobo Hall.

 

King: “I thought they did away with beheadings back in medieval times, but I’ll be darned, I just saw one.”

 

Pete: “I’ll be darned?”

 

King: “I wasn’t sure I could get away with the proper expression on Lockdown.”

 

The Masked Crusader moves in, attempting to take advantage of Candace’s prone state and move himself directly into the tournament. He lifts Candace, but has trouble with even her lack of weight, as she’s out cold and thus dead weight. No matter. He picks her up, appearing ready to body slam her over the top rope, but as he runs toward the proper side of the ring, Candace is able scissor his arm. He goes for the slam, but Candace hooks the top rope while maintaining the scissors, using the Crusader’s momentum to send the masked wrester over the top rope to the arena floor while sliding back into the ring to prevent her own elimination.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

 

Funyon: “The Masked Crusader has been eliminated!”

 

Pete: “So The Masked Crusader is gone from the tournament, and you’re looking at the eight competitors who will advance into the quarterfinals!”

 

King: “And the chick eliminated the Crusader too! I hope his friends believe in equal rights and women’s liberation, because otherwise he getting razzed at work tomorrow!”

 

Meanwhile, Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild have locked eyes. The crowd roars with anticipation, but TORU Takahara stops it with a dropkick to Wildchild’s back.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

Pete: “You think these fans want to see Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous one-on-one?”

 

King: “I think they just hate TORU.”

 

Over in a corner, Manson and JJ Johnson are locked up, as JJ hooks Manson’s arm and drives him down to the mat, driving the point of the elbow into Manson’s shoulder. In another corner, Jay Hawke is trying to eliminate Spike Jenkins from the match, but Spike is hanging onto the top rope for dear life. Hawke is audibly calling for help, and Johnson releases his grip on Manson’s arm and tries to help The Dean eliminate Spike.

 

King: “Now this is brilliant. The two members of Cucaracha Internacional are working together in the early stages of this battle royal!”

 

Pete: “Why?”

 

King: “Simple. If they eliminate the competition, they can face each other in the finals and guarantee one of them getting the title shot at El Luchador Magnifico! It’s brilliant!”

 

Just as it appears that Spike is going to be the number eight seed, TORU catches Wildchild with a lariat, the force of which knocks Wildchild down onto Jay Hawke’s legs. The Bahama Bomber clips Hawke just enough that, while the Dean isn’t really hurt, he’s lost his leverage on Spike, so Spike is able to catch JJ Johnson with an elbow to the head and bring himself back into the ring.

 

King: “Oh man. Even with two champions trying to eliminate him, Spike Jenkins winds up surviving. Life’s not fair, Pete!”

 

Hawke turns toward Wildchild in anger and begins stomping away at him. Just behind them, Spike Jenkins tries to lift JJ Johnson’s legs and dump him over the top rope, but Johnson brings his knees up and levels him with a series of knee strikes that would have felled a normal man. And since Spike, despite his Hollywood good looks and main event potential, is still about as normal as a man can get, he’s down to the mat.

 

In another area of the ring, Johnny Dangerous has a hold of Candace Okimura. Dangerous whips her across the ring, forcing her to rebound off the ropes. He lifts her into the air behind him, but she is able to land on the middle rope before spring boarding off and catching Dangerous in the back of the head with a forearm. Manson runs in, and Candace levels him with a couple of knife-edge chops that seem to anger Manson more than hurt him. He smiles, Candace’s eyes widen in shock, and Manson gloms her with a clothesline. The momentum takes Candace over the top rope, but she lands on the apron. As Candace gains her footing on the apron, Manson smiles, looking for one key blow to eliminate her, but Spike Jenkins catches Manson with a lariat to the back of the head. The move knocks Manson toward the ropes, and the Joshi Dragon pulls down the top rope. The modified height of the top rope is enough for Manson to lose his balance and fall out of the ring to the arena floor as Candace once again falls to the apron but slides into the ring.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Funyon: “Manson has been eliminated and will be the number eight seed in the tournament!”

 

Pete: “Some tremendous ring presence from Candace Okimura there, as she takes advantage of Spike Jenkins’ lariat to help eliminate Manson!”

 

King: “And Manson will meet the winner of this battle royal in the first round of the tournament!”

 

That winner might not be TORU Takahara, at least not if Wildchild has anything to do with it. Wildchild backs TORU into the ropes with a dropkick. He runs off the ropes and, using his superior speed, comes back and levels TORU with a flying back elbow. He runs off the ropes again. As he starts his rebound, Johnny Dangerous knocks JJ Johnson face-first into his running path. Wildchild improvises, using JJ’s back as a springboard to catch TORU with a leg lariat, the momentum of which sends both men tumbling over the top rope. Both men land on the apron, and they begin to trade forearms on the apron.

 

Pete: “Dangerous situation right here!”

 

King: “All it takes is one man to get whipped into the ropes right now, and we’ll have two men eliminated from the battle royal.”

 

A forearm knocks TORU down to the apron, and TORU struggles to hang on to the bottom rope to keep himself from falling to the floor, doing so with one hand. Wildchild begins to kick TORU’s hand, but he stops and looks to his left.

 

Pete: “JJ Johnson has just leveled Johnny Dangerous with a Yakuza kick to the side of the head, and he rocked the Barracuda with that one!”

 

With Dangerous staggering in the center of the ring, Wildchild sees his opportunity. Forgetting about TORU, he leaps and springboards off the top rope, flipping into a dropkick. However, Dangerous sees him out of the corner of his eye and ducks. Wildchild curses under his breath, partly because he couldn’t hit Dangerous, and partly because Johnny ducking left Candace Okimura wide open to eat two Bahaman feet to her pretty Japanese face.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

Candace falls down in a heap as Wildchild looks down with a look of concern. Of course, that means he turned his back to Jay Hawke, who grabs Wildchild from behind and brings him down with a vicious release German suplex that nearly folded him in half.

 

Pete: “Wildchild tried to get a shot in on Johnny Dangerous while he had the chance, but he missed and took out poor Candace Okimura instead!”

 

King: “And that was stupid for three reasons! One, he’ll get his shot at Dangerous sooner or later, possibly tonight! Second, he had TORU all but eliminated and let him off the hook. Three, he felt so bad for knocking the Oriental chick down that he left himself open to get folded like an accordion, thanks to the International Champion!”

 

TORU walks over to a prone Candace Okimura. It’s Japan on Japan violence forthcoming, as TORU picks Candace off the canvas and fires off a series of stiff knees to the face. TORU then lifts her into a body slam position before spinning her around and swinging her into a backbreaker. TORU gives off a sick smile as he admires his handiwork. He turns around, only for Spike Jenkins to catch him underneath the jaw with a series of uppercut open palm strikes.

 

Pete: “What a hard series of strikes from Spike Jenkins in there! He’s got TORU Takahara reeling!”

 

King: “But he’d better not think he’s got TORU eliminated until he actually has TORU eliminated!”

 

Spike takes advantage of a staggering TORU, leveling him with a series of quick kicks, followed by a knockout kick to the face. TORU falls to his knees, then to his face on the canvas. Jay Hawke moves in, trying to catch Spike unaware, but Spike catches the International coming in with a super kick to the face that drops Hawke faster than a sack of garbage.

 

Pete: “Last Dance! Spike Jenkins is on an absolute roll right now!”

 

Wildchild comes into the picture out of nowhere, catching Spike in the face with a flying leg lariat. Spike stumbles backwards and trips over TORU’s fallen carcass, which gets him just off-balance enough for Spike to tumble over the top rope and onto the arena floor. The crowd gives a split reaction, cheering for the move by Wildchild as much as booing Spike’s elimination.

 

Funyon: “Spike Jenkins has been eliminated and will be the number seven seed in the tournament!”

 

King: “And Spike actually lasted a spot or two longer than he really deserved to!”

 

Pete: “He’s only the third man eliminated so far!”

 

King: “Thank you for proving my point, Pete!”

 

Wildchild turns and sees Johnny Dangerous square in his sights. He moves in, but JJ Johnson runs in and catches Wildchild in the side of the face with a flying side kick.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

Meanwhile, as the crowd boos the Wildchild-Dangerous feud once again being teased with no actual results, Jay Hawke is on his feet. After shaking his head to clear himself from the Last Dance, he picks up a prone TORU Takahara. He locks him into a front headlock and cranks down on it before quickly spiking him down to the canvas with a DDT.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

Pete: “And Hawke is going after TORU Takahara in what might be as close to a rematch from Ashes 2 Ashes as we’ll see between these two!”

 

King: “And with TORU nearly knocked out already, Hawke tried to cave in TORU’s head with that vicious DDT. I haven’t seen him take a man down that hard with that move since he did it to the late Insane Luchador on the concrete floor.”

 

With TORU seemingly out for the count, Jay Hawke walks over to JJ Johnson, who is struggling in his attempt to dump Wildchild over the top rope. Hawke tries to help JJ with the situation, putting all his weight underneath Wildchild in an attempt to dump him over. Wildchild prevents it by hooking both arms around the top rope. Johnny Dangerous smiles in a corner looking at the situation and moves in, putting his weight underneath Wildchild’s buttocks to lift him up just a little further. The crowd screams, seemingly thinking Wildchild might be done, but as all three men flip him over the top rope, Wildchild lands on the apron.

 

Pete: “Wildchild still trying to hang on here! The position of his arms on the top rope are what saved him right there!”

 

Wildchild is able to use his head to catch JJ in the gut, then Hawke, then finally Dangerous. Wildchild crawls through the ropes and makes a move at Dangerous, but Johnson and Hawke each catch Wildchild with a knee to the head before he can get a hand on him.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

Pete: “And take a look at that! Dangerous makes his move at Wildchild when two men are working on him, but he refuses to meet Wildchild head on!”

 

King: “What are you saying? That Jay Hawke and JJ Johnson are trying to protect Johnny Dangerous somehow? What a ludicrous statement!”

 

As Pete tries to explain his side of things, Candace Okimura is trying in vain to dump TORU Takahara over the top rope. The weight difference is simply too much, and she can’t lift TORU over the top rope. Sensing she’ll need momentum to get the job done, she runs off the ropes and comes back with a flying knee strike that backs TORU against the ropes. She runs off the ropes again, this time coming back with a spinning heel kick that has TORU leaning off balance just a little bit. She runs off the ropes and leaps, but this time she gets caught. TORU hangs onto her for a second and sets her up, almost as if he’s going for a Hotshot. Instead he falls backwards, dumping Candace over the top rope. The crowd screams as Candace, possibly out of instinct, hooks the bottom rope with her feet on the way down to prevent herself from being eliminated.

 

Pete: “Can you believe this? This is the third or fourth time tonight that Candace Okimura has been just seconds away from being eliminated!”

 

King: “But two or three times she survived! She might not so lucky this time.”

 

TORU kicks away at Candace, almost begging Candace to fall to the floor. Candace is a stubborn joshi wench though, and not only does she not fall to the floor, but she also reaches up to try to grab the ropes. TORU continues kicking away, but Candace does grab the ropes and pulls herself up onto the apron. TORU is unrelenting in his assault, continuing to level her with stiff kicks, but she refuses to loosen her grip as the crowd chants:

 

 

“LET’S GO CAN-DACE!” *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!*

“LET’S GO CAN-DACE!” *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!*

“LET’S GO CAN-DACE!” *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!*

 

 

A hard Yakuza kick appears to be the trick, as Candace’s grip loosens to one hand on the top rope. TORU goes for another kick, but Candace ducks and lunges in with a shoulder block to the midsection. TORU doubles over, which buys Candace just enough time to grab the rope with other hand. TORU moves in, and Candace flips up, hooks TORU’s head into a scissors, then flips backwards, taking TORU over the top rope to the floor with a rana while barely hanging on herself.

 

Funyon: “TORU Takahara has been eliminated and will be the number six seed!”

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

 

Candace Okimura, still hanging onto the top rope, uses it to flip herself back in and stay alive in the contest as the crowd begins to give her a huge ovation.

 

Pete: “She just eliminated one-half of the World Tag Team Champions!”

 

King: “I can’t believe it! She’s like my ex-wife! She just won’t let go no matter what you do to her!”

 

Candace Okimura turns around…and walks smack into a Johnny Kick.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Pete: “And before she can even get a chance to savor the moment, Johnny Dangerous just leveled her with that super kick!”

 

King: “Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to do that to my ex-wife?”

 

JJ Johnson attacks Johnny Dangerous from behind, wrapping him by the waist and driving him to the canvas with a German suplex. On the other side of the ring, we see Jay Hawke hanging on to an arm of Wildchild, repeatedly driving an elbow into the insertion of the shoulder of the fastest man in the SWF. Hawke then drives a knee into the midsection, following it up with a European uppercut. He then looks toward JJ Johnson, who looks back and nods.

 

Pete: “Some communication here from the members Cucaracha Internacional. What could they be setting up here?”

 

King: “Something cool, I’m sure.”

 

JJ Johnson picks Johnny Dangerous up and tosses him into a turnbuckle, as Jay Hawke drives another knee into Wildchild’s midsection in the opposite corner. Jay Hawke turns back and shouts “NOW!” Hawke whips Wildchild, Johnson whips Dangerous…

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

 

Pete: “JJ Johnson and Jay Hawke just whipped Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous into each other!”

 

King: “And they’re backing off into a corner. This is brilliant. Candace is out cold, and they’re going to let these two settle it while getting a breather!”

 

Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous each take a moment to gather their thoughts, then look up and see each other. Wildchild smiles as Johnny’s eyes light up…

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

 

Pete: “…and it’s on!”

 

Indeed it is, as Wildchild sends off a series of rapid fire forearms into the side of Johnny Dangerous’ head. Dangerous staggers backwards, and before he can get his thoughts together, Wildchild is able to leap into the air and take Dangerous down with a snap rana. Dangerous rolls into the corner, and Wildchild, quicker than a cheetah, follows his former championship partner into the corner, taking him down with a monkey flip.

 

Pete: “Johnny Dangerous can’t get anything going against Wildchild here, King.”

 

King: “Jay Hawke and JJ Johnson have gone over to double team Candace Okimura in a corner, and I don’t think anybody in Joe Louis Arena has noticed. All eyes are squarely focused on Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous right now!”

 

Wildchild moves in, only to get caught with a low blow out of nowhere from Dangerous.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

King: “Perfectly legal! No rules in a battle royal!”

 

And Dangerous doesn’t want to take any chances. He’d much rather meet Wildchild later on than right this second, so he goes to try to dump Wildchild over the top rope. He doesn’t get very far though, as Wildchild catches Dangerous in the face with an elbow. And another. Then a series of them that loosens Johnny’s grip and backs him away. Firmly back inside the ring, Wildchild charges Dangerous and levels him with a flying shoulder tackle. Dangerous backs into the ropes, with only the steel cables encased in tape keeping him on his feet. Wildchild comes in and catches Johnny Dangerous with a dropkick, hoping the momentum will take him over, but Dangerous hangs on. Wildchild then runs off the other side of the ropes again, this time connecting with a high cross body. The momentum of the move takes both men over the top rope and to the arena floor.

 

Funyon: “Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous have both been eliminated and will be the number four and five seeds!”

 

King: “Four and five? But that means…”

 

The fight between the two isn’t over yet, as they begin to simply brawl as they make their way down the aisle.

 

Pete: “That means they’ll be facing each other in the quarterfinals!”

 

King: “That match could headline a pay-per-view event, but instead we’ll see it for free? Wow!”

 

As the former partners disappear behind the curtain, the attention of the 16,000-plus fans at the Joe turns back toward the ring, where Candace Okimura is trapped in a corner with JJ Johnson and Jay Hawke both stalking her.

 

Pete: “Now this could be trouble for Candace Okimura here.”

 

King: “Indeed it could. Jay Hawke and JJ Johnson have both survived this long because they’ve been working together. So I’ll predict right now that Candace ends up against TORU and we end up with JJ and Hawke flipping a coin to see who gets the number one seed.”

 

Johnson and Hawke move in on an outnumbered Candace, who rolls forward and between both guys to prevent the double team. They move in again, and again she rolls forward to avoid the members of Cucaracha Internacional.

 

Pete: “And this might be the best strategy for Candace. Try to avoid these two men as much as possible and see if maybe you can catch one of them off-guard.”

 

King: “Let’s be honest. She’s the smallest person in this match, so she’s absolutely lucky to even still be out here at this point!”

 

The partners move in, and again Candace tries to roll forward, but this time Johnson is able to reach down and grab a handful of long dark hair. The crowd boos vehemently, angry at how rough JJ is being with the young Japanese hottie. Well, I’m sure someone watching is enjoying it a bit too much, but at any rate, Johnson pulls Candace to her feet and wraps her in a waistlock. Jay Hawke runs into the ropes and comes back, leveling Candace with a lariat, with Johnson immediately going into a release German suplex.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

Pete: “My God…”

 

King: “Do you think her head will be the key ingredient on Iron Chef anytime soon?”

 

Pete: “Huh?”

 

King: “Because I think they’re going to bring it to Landon Maddix on a silver platter! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

Pete: “You’re sick.”

 

King: “What’s sad is you could probably convince Landon Maddix that it’s the World Title belt.”

 

Jay Hawke pulls Candace Okimura’s limp body off the canvas and picks her up for a body slam. He walks a couple of steps forward with her, then stops, driving her shoulder onto his knee before dumping her viciously onto the mat. Johnson and Hawke exchange a glance, then a nod, before each man begins to go up to an opposite corner and climb their respective turnbuckles.

 

Pete: “Now what do they have in mind?”

 

King: “I think they’re going to make Candace Okimura wish she’d never signed her SWF contract, Pete!”

 

As both men complete their ascent to the top rope, both men jump off, each one coming crashing down with diving head butts onto Candace’s shoulders. Both men make their way to their feet smiling, with Hawke saying “Let’s end this.”

 

Pete: “Tremendous teamwork from Hawke and Johnson, and now they’re going to eliminate Candace.”

 

King: “She fought well. She lasted longer than any of us expected. But it’s over for her. Good luck against TORU in the quarterfinals, Candy.”

 

JJ Johnson and Jay Hawke each grab a hold of Candace Okimura and heave her over the top rope, but she quickly lands on the apron and rolls back into the ring. JJ and Jay look at each other, completely dumbfounded as to how she could have possibly survived. As Candace makes her way to her feet, the two members of Cucaracha Internacional charge with a double clothesline. Candace ducks, then turns around and fires a double dropkick, one leg catching each of her opponents. The momentum begins to send Jay Hawke over the top rope, but JJ Johnson is quick to grab him and pull him back into the ring. Jay nods and pats JJ’s chest in thanks, unaware that Candace is running off the ropes. When she rebounds, she tries to catch the incoming Hawke with a spinning heel kick. Hawke ducks, and the move catches JJ Johnson flush in the face. JJ tumbles over the top rope, and Hawke tries to run over and save his stablemate, but he’s half a second too late.

 

Funyon: “JJ Johnson has been eliminated and will become the number three seed!”

 

King: “I don’t believe it!”

 

Pete: “JJ Johnson will face TORU Takahara in the quarterfinals, but my God, Candace might take this thing!”

 

Jay Hawke looks at the floor, almost disgusted with himself that he couldn’t save JJ Johnson in time. However, he’s forgotten about Candace ever so quickly. The Dean turns around, only to get caught by a dropkick from the Joshi Dragon that sends Jay Hawke tumbling over the top rope. Hawke lands on his knees on the apron, and Candace begins to fire off a series of lethal kicks that are intended to relieve Jay Hawke of his grip.

 

Pete: “She’s already eliminated one-half of the World Tag Team Champions and the Cruiserweight Champion! What a big win it would be if she could eliminate the International Champion as well!”

 

With Hawke struggling to stay on the apron, Candace Okimura leaps onto the middle rope, using it as a springboard to leap over the turnbuckle and dropkick the International Champion off the apron. However, Hawke ducks and rolls into the ring, leaving Candace with nothing to hit….

 

 

 

THUD!

 

 

….except the cold concrete floor.

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, Candace Okimura has been eliminated and becomes the second seed in the Cold Front Classic. Therefore, after 17 minute 24 seconds, your winner, and the number one seed in the Cold Front Classic … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke wins the battle royal and becomes the number one seed, but had Candace hit that springboard dropkick, it might have been a different story altogether.”

 

King: “But she didn’t hit that dropkick, Pete. That’s the key. She didn’t hit the dropkick, and it might take the kitchen crew to pick her up off the floor with a spatula.”

 

Pete: “Well, with the battle royal over with, we now our matches for the quarterfinal round of the Cold Front Classic tournament. Let’s go over the brackets quickly.”

 

 

#1 Jay Hawke

#8 Manson

 

#4 Wildchild

#5 Johnny Dangerous

 

#3 JJ Johnson

#6 TORU Takahara

 

#2 Candace Okimura

#7 Spike Jenkins

 

Pete: “There’s not a bad match out of that bunch, King.”

 

King: “Well, the one everybody’s going to be waiting for is Wildchild against Johnny Dangerous, who for all we know might still be fighting in the back. I think the sleeper match is going to JJ Johnson against TORU.”

 

Pete: “We’ve seen Jay Hawke and Manson in some classic matches before as well, but I think the sleeper match is going to be Spike Jenkins against Candace Okimura. You’ve got two crowd favorites in that one who are going to go all out.”

 

King: “Can I take a nap when that match comes on?”

 

Pete: “It’s going to be a fantastic tournament, and you’ll be able to see all the action over the next few weeks. But with that, we’re going to bid you good night. See you at Smarkdown, everybody!”

 

©2005 Smarks Wrestling Federation

“Raising Workrate by Typing Faster”

[King Cucaracha 0]

Thanks for the feedback, Judgems. Duly noted. I figured you might have been there, which is why you knew about it and chose it for the match, so I tried to be a bit too realistic. Also part of the reason why I no-showed Mall Brawl back in the day.

[Bruce Blank 0]

mmmmmmm Mall Brawl *drools* (gives the bookers three-fiddy to see if might get him booked for a Mall Brawl in Alabama )

 

I suscribe to the notion Suicide King put forward (I think it was him, I read it somewhere in the archives) "the ladder is as all as you need it to be, the commentating table is where you need it to be"

 

so in other words - if I want there to be a giant fishtank in the location I'll add it (hey that's a good idea for a future match ) as long as it goes with the general location and all.

 

What I did was that I took a few notes from the "highlights" page and kinda put them where I thought they worked the best - I mean I have no idea if the bar or restaurant is on the 1st or 2nd floor

 

but I knew there was one somewhere, so in SWF-Land it's on the 2nd floor