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SWF STORM! 12/9/05

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We are welcomed to the festively decorated Savvis Center in St. Louis, Missouri for the last SWF Live TV show of the season as artificial snow slowly falls from the ceiling, coating the entrance area in a fine white powder. The fans are all fired up for the Hardcore flagship of the SWF and take every opportunity they can to flash their posters for the cameras.


Such witty ditties as “the Bruce that stole Christmas” or “Wes is MY Action Hero” and who can forget “Akirri Rulz!” are held up when the cameras pan across the crowds.


Instead of the normal Storm theme song “Jinglebells” starts up to quite a positive reaction, tis’ the season after all. A moment later the positive spirit of the entire place plummets as we see a beat up Ford Pick Up truck drive up from a side entrance and then park right by the entrance.


“What the hell?” Is all Pete can say as he sees the Ford Pick Up truck with the words “Santas Sley” written on the side in crude primer paint letters.


“I thought you were a big Santa mark Pete, I mean you’ve got the tie, the shirt, the loafers – even the underwear!” King says as he chuckles to himself.


The door to the cab opens and out steps a broad shouldered, barrel chested, 295 pound Santa Bruce – complete with a white beard, a floppy hat and a Santa coat with the sleeves cut off to make room for Bruce’s massive arms. Santa Bruce immediately climbs up on back of his pick up truck amongst brown sacks filled with all sorts of goodies.






“Now, now boys and girls is that any way to treat ol’ Santa Bruce when he comes bearing gifts??” Bruce says after he pulls his beard down to address the crowd.


“Bruce bearing gifts? I’m not sure I like where this is going” Pete comments as Bruce just looks at the crowd with a “6 pack” smile.


“Don’t worry he doesn’t bring presents to little boys who like to wear women’s underwear” King fires back at his colleague.


Santa Bruce grabs one of the bags from the truck bed and holds it up for the entire arena to see.


“This year I figured I should think of the less fortunate, the downtrodden, the abused, the jobbers and those that are… well not me ha, ha!” Bruce says as he reaches into the bag and rummages around. Then he pulls out a big stuffed Super Mario toy and holds it up in the air for everyone to see.


“The first little person on my list is the Joshi Dragon” Bruce says as he waves one of Mario’s stuffed arms to the camera “She gets this Mario – because Joshi without Mario is like NASCAR without beer, it’s just not right!!” Bruce says and laughs.




“Don’t worry I got presents for EVERYONE” Bruce says as he throws the Super Mario down and reaches into the bag once more. “This next present is for someone you all know, he’s one of those little guys you see go to the ring week in and week out and just try their little hearts out – bless them for trying” Bruce says with a smirk as he pulls out a bottle of “Austin Power’s Mojo Juice” and holds it up.


“Maybe after you drink this you’d develop some sort of personality Stryke? No? Yes?? Worth a shot isn’t it?” Bruce says as he winks the camera and chuckles.


“Now my next recipient… well I had to think long and hard over this one, see he’s already getting an International title shot for Christmas” Bruce starts out, but is cut off by the roar of the crowd as he hints at his next “gift recipient”.




“Yes, yes we all love Wes – Everybody loves Wes right? So I went out and I got him this” Bruce says as he pulls out a shiny golden Oscar Statuette and holds it up. “I think you’ve earned it, convincing everyone in the arena that you actually have talent!”


“Now hold up Wes Davenport isn’t a push over!” Pete says indignant at Bruce’s comments.


“SHHHHHH!! Santa is talking Pete” King admonishes him.


Bruce pulls a long wooden stick out, looks at it for a moment and then cautiously sniffs it. The smell makes Bruce gag a little and he immediately holds it as far away from his face as he can.


“Well boys and girls this stick was supposed to be for Chris Card – but I got it on good authority that he’s not gotten the last one out yet” Bruce says with a smirk and just tosses the smelly stick over his shoulder.


“Now I don’t know if they even have Christmas in Japan, but I got to say that if you Buddha bastards have a problem with Christmas then you can just stay the hell out of the Wall Marts until the sale is over! But since this is the season to be nice and giving I’m going to give our two Japanese imports a little something they desperately needs” Bruce says as he pulls out a big book that says


“Engrish Ressons”


Across the front of it in big print.




“Oh come on that’s funny, I don’t care what you say THAT’S funny!” Bruce says while laughing. “And don’t forget boys and girls, Santa has a “No exchange” policy” Bruce adds as he drops the empty sack and picks up another one. He quickly reaches inside and grabs a bottle of lotion and holds it up in the air.


“Skin moisturizer! I don’t personally use it but I hear that it’s good for dry skin or chafing… for instance if you’ve been on the canvas a lot looking up at the lights! I can only think of one person who REALLY deserve this – I was going to get him a pair of shades because he looks at the lights so much but… well this was cheaper. So Merry Christmas Spike Jenkins bwa, ha, ha, ha, ha”




“Oh shut up King”


“Hold up, hold up I’m far from done. Next we have three little guys who like to sit together in their little tree house and talk about cockroaches.”


“What the hell is he talking about??” Pete asks


“Cucaracha International obviously, get with the program” King replies.


“Let’s start with the “reborn” Landon shall we?” Bruce reaches into the bag and pulls out a big green, gaudy sombrero and holds it up in the air. “Landon this one is for you, I figure once your “Strong Style” fad blows over you should try your luck as “Frito Bandito” – can’t don much worse than you are right now heh, heh, heh”


Bruce is obviously enjoying pissing off each and every wrestler in the locker room – and from the looks of it he’s far from done.


“Next up is an old buddy of mine, I figured I’d give him something special… something to remember me by, those special times we’ve spent together you know?” Bruce says as he pulls out a little box wrapped in FAO Schwarz paper “Just a memento of me kicking your ass Johnson!!”




“Hey I’m with you – BOOO Johnson!!” Bruce says totally ignoring the fact that the crowd is booing him. “Now we come to Jay Hawke, the man who thinks he’s got it all – skills, success… nice hair. And the longest run with the International title ever! So what do you get the man that has everything?”


Bruce pulls out a medicine bottle and shows it to the camera – the label reads “Penicillin”


*Groan* “That joke was old when Lincoln lived in the log cabin” Pete says


“Vintage Pete, the word is vintage”


“Next we have Todd Cortez” Bruce begins




“Well honestly Toddy – I didn’t get you anything” Bruce admits




“Oh calm down! He’s already got incriminating pictures of Joseph Peters, how else could he get the main event shot? He’ll be alright!!” Bruce says as the fans boo him. Next he pulls out this hideous neon pink mask with horns, spiky hair and bug eyes and holds it up in the air.


“I thought of El Luchador the second I saw this!” Bruce says as he chuckles at his own jokes. “it only came in small but I think that’s your size anyways”


“You know by the time this is over Bruce won’t have ANY friends in the federation” Pete points out.


“And he had any before?” King so rightly replies, Bruce isn’t exactly one to hang out with others.


Santa Bruce picks up yet another bag and pulls out a white towel which immediately starts a “Take a bath!” chant, a chant that Bruce totally ignores as he addresses the crowd and the wrestlers in the back once more.


“I figured Wildchild could use one of these to wipe the tears off his face after the PPV – a first rate Crying towel for ya bwa, ha, ha, ha!” It’s obvious that Bruce is enjoying himself tonight.


“As for Johnny… well I already GOT him a present on the last Storm and Lock… on the last Storm!” Bruce says trying to cover up for the slip of the tongue. “So Christmas came early for Johnny D!!”




“Is that any way to talk to Santa? I might have to leave a very special present in your stockings if you don’t shut the hell up!!” Bruce yells at the crowd as he’s almost out of patience. After regaining his composure Bruce reaches into the bag once more and then pulls out 3 “Scratch Lottery” tickets


“I figured since Max King has to be the luckiest sum-bitch to escape that cage alive that he could use some of these” Bruce says with a sharp bitterness in his voice, the loss to Max stung more than Bruce would probably ever admit. Bruce reaches into the bag once more and this time he pulls out a neckbrace.


“Zyon I do believe you’re quite familiar with these already! You come off one serious back injury and now you’re in a TABLES match?” Bruce chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief “Will you not be happy until your spine is dust?”


Bruce throws the neck brace at the camera and then softly adds another comment directed straight at Zyon “I can accommodate your death wish quite easily”


“I didn’t have to think very hard about my next present” Bruce says as he shakes the bag in his hand giving off a metallic rattle. “Akira I got a dog collar with your name on it all warmed up and ready to go! If you think my previous matches have been brutal then you’re in for quite a surprise – because I’m turning this sum-bitch up to 11 come next Sunday night!!”




Bruce just shakes his head in disbelief over the chants before he goes on.


“I’ve got 2 more presents to give, so simmer down!!” Bruce says angrily. “The first one is for Manson…. That present is the best tag-team partner anyone could ever hope for” Bruce says as he points to himself with a smirk. “295 pounds of FURY!! There ain’t a man in this federation that can do what I do, no one else that so easily and so readily steps over the line to get the job done and tonight I’ll cross the line once again – and there ain’t nothing Zyon or Akira can do about it!!”


Bruce picks up the last sack and smiles. “And the final present… is for me” Bruce says as he pulls the Ultraviolent title out of the bag and holds it up “Merry F’N Christmas Bruce – this belt ain’t going nowhere for a long, looooooooooong time! And as a delayed Christmas present I’ll even break the record in the middle of January… like there was any doubt?”


The crowd boos Bruce like crazy as he stands on the bed of the truck with the Ultraviolent held up in the air over his head.


“MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU LOSERS!” Bruce says as he hops out of the truck and walks to the back to a chorus of boos.

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...






Things are happening! Exciting things!


The Cold Front Classic semi-final matches go down tonight, and since there was a delay in the tournament and these matches should have happened earlier, they will not be fought under Hardcore rules!


Zyon wins his special match last week, and gets "something". But what? I'm not telling you yet! You might find out on Storm, or you might have to wait just a liiiiiittle bit. We'll see.


Landon Maddix and Max King are a team for three seconds, and already they're the #1 Contenders! How about them apples! Will Maddiking have a statement for TKO tonight? If so, can they even get along long enough to make it?


Plus, will we hear from El Luchadore Magnifico, regarding his not-quite-victory on Smarkdown? Will we hear from Wes Davenport, who's got an International Title shot coming up at the PPV? Will we hear from other people, who aren't Magnifico or Wes?


Tensions rise as temperatures fall! We're just under two weeks away from the SWF's last show of 2005, and the way things are going, it looks like this year we're going out with a BANG~! *gives TNT a quarter*




The Main Event - Cold Front Classic Semifinal Match

JJ Johnson © vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins


---> Out of four absolutely stellar candidates, the one making the most noise in the Cold Front Classic is JJ Johnson, who many have pegged as the odds-on favorite to win the whole darn thing! I'm willing to bet Spike Jenkins has something to say about that, however - he's gotta be itching for another shot at Magnifico. Tonight, these two go head-to-head in one of the biggest matches of the tournament!


Rules: Standard singles match. NOT HARDCORE!




Cold Front Classic Semifinal Match

Johnny Dangerous vs. TORU Takahara ©


---> Sorry Wildchild, Johnny's got bigger fish to fry. The Secret Agent turned down a chance to take out his former partner in order to progress in the Cold Front Classic tournament - tonight, though, he may hit a roadblock, as TORU Takahara stands in his way! Will Johnny squash this new threat and leave Wildchild behind as well, or will TORU go on to the finals at the Christmas PPV and fight for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship?


Rules: Standard singles match. NOT HARDCORE!




Jay Hawke vs. "The Icon" Max King

Special Commentator: Landon Maddix!


---> Landon's old partner vs. Landon's new partner! Not exactly the most ideal of situations, as MaddiKing are set to challenge TKO for the Tag Team Championships at our earliest convenience!


And, just to torture the poor bastard, we've got La Cucaracha himself down at ringside, joining Longdogger Pete and the Suicide King for commentary! Will he sit quietly by and let his real stablemate pound the crap out of his unwelcome partner? Or does Maddix desire another run with the Tag Team Gold so much that he's willing to get in Jay Hawke's way? Or will he just sit there and annoy the hell out of King?






"Urban Legend" Todd Cortez vs. Stryke


---> Stryke made a damn fine showing of himself in that Fatal Fourway last week. So fine, in fact, that tonight he's being given the opportunity to take on the Number One Contender to the World Heavyweight Championship! For Todd, this is just a tune-up... for Stryke, it's a chance to prove the naysayers wrong!


Rules: Standard singles match! We need our #1 Contender in tip-top shape!




Candance "The Joshi Dragon" Okimura vs. "The Rage" Jason von Dierch


---> Wouldn't want these two to get rusty, considering what's coming up at the PPV... mwahahahahahahaaaa!






Opening Bout - Tag Team Tables Match

Zyon and "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu vs. Bruce Blank and Manson


---> Blank and Akira have some business to wrap up one on one, real personal like. But that's for later. Right now, we're giving our fans a little preview of the carnage we expect between these two at the PPV by sticking them in a tables match! On the other end, Zyon recently bested Manson (and Candace) in a triple-threat, and has won a funtabulous prize that I'm not telling you guys about yet!


Rules: There are some tables set up outside the ring, and some more stashed underneath as well. The first team to drive BOTH of their opponents through a table wins! This is NOT Elimination Rules - if you put one man through a table, he is still in the match until his partner goes through a table as well.

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Joseph Peters takes another swig of water, sighs, and wishes for Bourbon. Unfortunately Tom Flesher has already bought out all the stores in the area, and in any case the SWF’s head honcho really needs to keep a clear mind for tonight’s show. It’s the last show before the Pay-Per-View, the Cold Front Classic semi-finals are tonight as well as a bunch of other matches; he might have to make sudden changes on the fly, and he can’t afford to be distracted.






‘Mr. Peters, there’s a young woman who wants to see you.’


On the other hand, Joseph thinks, maybe a bit of distraction now will help him concentrate later.


“Is she dressed?” he asks with a smile, the same as always when this happens. Oh, the things hopeful female wrestlers will wear if they think it’ll help them get a job.


‘…only just.’


“Send her in!” Peters grins, cutting off the intercom. Yes, a nice bit of distraction would go very well. When giving potential employees a tryout he always tries to make sure that they’re willing to ‘do the job’… although the ‘job’ in question is sometimes a little different than the one used in normal wrestling parlance. So when the door opens and the new arrival enters his office she finds Joseph Peters having just taken off his J‘n’R (hey, gotta show the boys that he’s keepin’ it Old School) hooded sweatshirt and sitting in the black vest that he thinks showcases his biceps nicely and smiling like a cat that’s not only just got the cream, but has placed an order for a year on his neighbour’s credit card.


“Hi, what can I do for you?” Peters asks cordially, taking in his guest’s appearance. Black hair, clearly dyed, falls down past her shoulders; however, her head is shaved underneath into an undercut that extends a couple of inches above her ears. Lots of eyeliner, a lip ring… his gaze travels downwards to the black leather dog collar around her neck, studded with inch-long spikes, then to a cleavage that could be described as ‘impressive’ or, perhaps, ‘dangerous’. Two breasts that could have made a fairly good effort on their own have been coerced with no thought for health and safety into what is probably a Wonderbra (and a rather strained Wonderbra at that) underneath a Dead Kennedys T-shirt, ripped at the neckline to expose said cleavage and cut off at the bottom. The left arm has a barbed wire tattoo running around the upper half, and both have a large selection of colourful bracelets around the wrists… but those arms aren’t the slender, delicate arms of a consumptive goth chick, in the same way that the stomach that is bulging over the almost indecently short pleated tartan skirt (above ripped tights, Peters notices) is hardly that of a supermodel. In short the girl is halfway between flabby and voluptuous, doesn’t look at all like a wrestler, can’t be any older than 20, and Peters really doesn’t know what to make of her.




“Where’s my bruvva?”


Joe Peters blinks.


“Excuse me?”


“My bruvva,” the girl snaps, sitting down uninvited in the chair opposite him, “wherisee?”


She’s not American, Peters realises with a start. In fact, if anything she sounds like…


“Oh God…” Peters says, shutting his eyes and leaning back in his chair. Then he decides that the CEO of the SWF needs a more commanding air and sits up straight, taking a harder look at the young girl in front of him and looking past the makeup (difficult) and the cleavage (harder) to check her features. Yes, the resemblance is definitely there.


“…are you Toxxic’s sister!?”


“Yeah,” she replies, eyeballing Peters suspiciously, “d’you know where Mike is or not?”


“What?” Peters says, only just catching up with the conversation. “I thought… look, he left us in August. Last I heard, he was back in Nottingham.”


“Well he ain’t now!” Amy Stephens says forcefully. “Look, Mike was home for like three months, and then he buggered off! No goodbyes, nothin’! An’ he didn’t take his phone neither! So we ain’t heard from him in like six weeks, so I’ve come to see if you guys seen him!”


Joseph Peters takes that all in, from a probably-nineteen-year-old goth who’s quivering with frustration (and partly because the slightest movement is going to cause some parts of her to quiver anyway), then buries his head in his hands.




“Whaddya mean, no?” Amy demands. “Where the bloody hell else is he gonna go but back here?”


“I don’t know!” Peters snaps, looking up sharply. “Listen, Miss Whatever-Your-Name-Is, I wish I had seen him! I don’t know if you followed your brother’s career at all, but in about two months we’ve got an event coming up called the Clusterfuck,” he continues, opening his 2006 diary and jabbing at the page, “an event where more or less the entire roster battles it out for a title shot. Our roster isn’t the biggest, and so every year we throw out a few big cheques for a few big names -and some not so big names- to come in and make up the numbers.”


“Nothing,” Joe states, leaning back in his chair and glowering at his visitor, “gives an aura of class like a former World Champion coming out as a surprise entrant in the Clusterfuck. Believe me, if I knew where your brother was I’d be offering him a large amount of money to come in for a one-shot deal - or longer, especially if he was to wind up winning. But I don’t. He left this place, he threw his goddamn phone away or something, he doesn’t answer emails, he doesn’t answer letters. Short of sending a company man to his door with a few grand in bills I have no way of contacting him… and now you tell me he isn’t even there.” Peters heaves a sigh at the sheer uncooperativeness of disappearing wrestlers, then casts a sharp glance up at his visitor.


“Say… do you wrestle, at all?”


“Done a bit of training, innit,” Amy responds with a one-shouldered shrug, then her eyes narrow in turn. “Why?”


“Well you see, just the fact that you’re related to one of our most successful competitors could be enough to get some fan interest behind you,” Joe says musingly. “I mean sure, you’re not exactly the same… build… as the other divas, but I’d bet you could throw a mean European Uppercu-”


“What the hell are you sayin’?” Amy Stephens snaps, bolting up out of her seat and leaning over the desk towards Joe Peters. At any other time the sight of a cleavage like that coming straight for him would cause the SWF’s head booker to send a prayer up to any God that might be listening, but Joseph has just remembered Toxxic’s favourite story about his sister; namely, the one where she ripped half a guy’s ear off in his teeth. Of course, Toxxic had always pointed out, the man in question had headbutted her first, but he’d made her sound like a complete head case all the same…


“Uh, nothing,” Peters assures her. After all, the last publicity the SWF needed was for it’s CEO to be accused of sexual harassment, or to have his ear bitten off, or even to be accused of assault whilst trying to prevent his ear from being bitten off. “I don’t know where your brother is, I’m afraid… but if you’d care to leave a contact number with my secretary on your way out” he continues, trying not to place too much stress on the words “then we’ll make sure get in touch if we hear anything. Incidentally,” Peters adds as the British girl subsides somewhat and turns around to head for the door, “you might want to try reading Wrestling Panda sometime, if anyone knows where he is then they will.”


“Wrestling Panda?” Amy says in scathing tones, then flounces out through the office door muttering something that sounds very much like “bloody Americans…” Peters makes sure that she’s out of earshot, then presses his intercom.


‘Yes, Mr Peters?’


“The young woman you sent up to see me? Make sure we get a contact number from her, and give her Talent Relations’ number as well. Just in case she wants to give us a call in future.”


‘Yes sir. If she gets in touch, should I tell the dietician to stand by?’


“Only if he’s pissed you off lately.”


Peters releases the button, then spends a couple more seconds tapping his lips thoughtfully. Then he opens a couple of drawers in his desk until he finds what he’s looking for; his personal organiser with all his useful numbers. The SWF’s CEO thumbs through the pages quickly, finally lighting on one that has been circled in red ink, then picks up his phone and dials the number.


‘Geddes, Scott and Brooks, Private Investigators.’


“Hi. I’d like a missing person found…”

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"Ladies and Gentlemen…"




Smiling because he's empty inside and loves the reaction for the opening match pop, he continues…


"The following contest is a Double Elimination TABLES MATCH!!"




The rest of the introduction is lost in a sea of cheers as the Savvis Center crowd is red hot and anxious for some SWF Wrestler on Wrestler Action. The arena turns dark as the SmarkTron flashes the words…


"I’m Born…"


"I’m Alive…"


"I Breathe…"


As soon as "Vitamin" by Incubus kicks in both Zyon and Akira come out side by side, pausing in unison on the ramp for a moment to take in the crowd reaction to these two rising stars. Zyon’s jeans and blue shirt matches Akira’s mask and tights giving the crowd just a hint of unity even though this is the first time they are teaming up.


"Introducing first, the team of ZYYYOOOON and 'The Divine Wind' AKIIIIRA KAIIIIIBATSU!"


"Talk about a classic David Vs Goliath match King," Pete says as Akira and Zyon make their way towards the ring. "but what better way to kick off a big night of action here in St. Louis!"


"You know neither David nor Goliath are signed by the SWF, don’t misrepresent the match Drain Clogger," King says with a smirk.


Zyon races ahead of his more restrained partner and leaps up onto the apron before flipping into the ring to quite a pop from the crowd, who's taken to Zyon’s high flying displays and his courageous fight back from a devastating back injury.


"And their opponents…" is all Funyon gets out before "Crusher Destroyer" by Mastodon is blasted over the PA system and the cheers turn to boos and hisses for Manson and Bruce. Three seconds later both power houses come blasting out from the back at full speed, running towards the ring as opposed to taking their time as they would usually do. They slow down slightly as they approach the ring, entering with steely determination.


"These guys are not waiting around! They want to get their hands on Akira and Zyon!" King says as Bruce and Manson rush Akira and Zyon with both fists swinging left and right.


Bruce hammers Akira into the corner with a forceful double axe handle blow to the back of the Japanese superstar’s head. Manson quickly rushes Zyon and clotheslines the Unique Youth with such force that both Zyon and Manson flip over the top rope to the floor.


"He took off Zyon’s head!!" Pete yells out in surprise as Zyon tumbles to the ground with Manson landing on his feet.


"You ain’t seen nothing yet, Manson is out to pay Zyon back for the match on Smarkdown," King replies.




The rabid crowd begins chanting, while Manson and Bruce work over their opponents in perfect unison, clubbering their opponents over the back with one stiff forearm blow after another until they drive both Zyon and Akira to the ground. With Akira on the canvas Bruce quickly switches tactics and starts to grind his boot into the back of Akira’s head, gleefully rubbing the Divine Wind’s face into the canvas.


"You know for the last couple of weeks Bruce has shown a total and utter lack of respect for Akira Kaibatsu!" Pete says in disgust.


"Has he ever shown respect for anyone though Pete? But you’re right, "respect" is a big thing to these asian goo.."


"Watch it!" Pete warns King as he skirts dangerously close to a racial slur.


"oofs. That’s what I was going to say," King says in a last second save.


On the floor Manson has kept Zyon under control with a succession of short, stiff chops to the neck, trying to aggravate Zyon’s old injury. After about ten chops Manson pulls Zyon back to his feet by the hair and then hoists him up and over his head with a release Belly to Belly Suplex with such force that he actually overshoots one of the tables set up outside. Zyon hits the mat on the other side of the table with a sickening thump and quickly tends to his back.


"Zyon just got lucky Pete," the Suicide King says like he was revealing some deep secret.


"Lucky?? He hit the concrete floor with only a two-inch mat to protect him. How is that lucky?" Pete asks confusedly.


"Well for starters he didn’t get driven through a table!" King fires back. "Do you even understand the rules, dummy? He was lucky that he didn't take the first fall for his team."


Bruce raises his cowboy boot clad foot and then quickly brings it back down in an attempt to deliver a stomp to the back of Akira's head, but fortunately the Divine Wind is alert enough to move his head aside, as Blank stomps the mat instead. He rolls out of the way of a second and third attempted stomp, but is unprepared for a surprise elbow drop that hits the Japanese cruiserweight square in the chest, squashing him underneath all of Blank's two hundred and ninety-five pounds. On the outside, with a folded up table in hand, Manson is preparing another attack, but he underestimates his opponent's condition as Zyon jumps off the mat. He next jumps onto the table he was thrown over just moments ago and runs across, leaping off that and dropkicking the table right back into the Raging Bull's face!






"You can’t take your eyes off this guy for a second! Man alive he crossed that table like greased lighting!" Gushes Pete over Zyon's sudden display of quickness. "You could say he just turned the tables on Manson!"


"Don't quit your day job… On second thought, please do…"


Blank remains totally unaware of the happenings down on the floor, as he keeps working over Akira without realizing that Zyon has Manson trapped under the flat, folded up table. Zyon looks at the crowd with a smirk while they begin to chant his name. Then the Unique Youth begins to jump up and down on the table, stomping on the table each time he lands, sending shockwaves through the wood and the body of the trapped Manson.




The chant gets Bruce’s attention and he quickly turns around toward the outside, seeing what's going on down on the floor. Blank sticks his upper body between the top and middle ropes and reaches for Zyon, but the speedy, charismatic youngster is a step ahead of him, blasting the Trailerpark Messiah across the jaw with a flying forearm.


"Considering he just came off a terrible back injury there are no signs of Zyon taking it easy. He’s going one hundred and ten miles an hour right now," King says of Zyon, ever so slightly impressed with the Unique Youth's fighting spirit.


"Who are you and what have you done with Suicide King?"


"Don't get me wrong. Bruce and Manson will still come through in the end. It's only a matter of time before they start targeting Zyon's back and win. He might as well have come in with a bull's eye painted on it."


"Would you call that… a Raging Bull's Eye?" Pete asks with a smirk.


"Strike two."


As Zyon catches Blank with the forearm, Akira slides behind him and gets on his hands and knees, tripping Bruce and bringing him down on his back. Kaibatsu stands and calls in Zyon. The two start double teaming Bruce with frantic stomps in an attempt to keep him down and put in as much damage as they can. Zyon kneels down beside Blank and transitions to punches, while Akira keeps going with the stomps.


"These two look like a couple of pesky, annoying, swarming gnats or children on a piece of fruit right now. It's the only thing these two idiots can do to keep Blank down," King mutters. "It's unfair."


"How so?"


"Because I said so. You've never won a World Title. It's my word over yours."


Blank attempts to fight off the cruiserweights, trying to simultaneously throw Zyon off him while kicking off Kaibatsu. Finally, he gets a right hand up, clocking Akira and knocking him down. He pivots on his elbow, but Zyon kicks him back down, only to get kicked in the jaw by Blank from the ground. Zyon grabs his jaw as Blank stands, but he's rushed by the Divine Wind and the Unique Youth, who attack with a flurry of punches. Blank swats and shoves each of them off and each of the two smaller men leap and hit a double dropkick. Blank doesn't fall, so Zyon and Akira stand and hit another dropkick, this time taking him down!


Zyon heads outside for a table, bringing it back into the ring, as Akira drops repeated standing Sentons on Blank, keeping him down on the ground. Zyon sets up the table and afterward he and Akira bring Bruce up. They lay him on the table, which nearly buckles under Blank's weight and Zyon heads up the ropes. Akira keeps Blank on the table with still more fists to the face, but as Zyon nearly makes it to the top, in comes Manson, who shoves Akira aside and goes through him toward Zyon, crotching him on the top rope!


"Heeeere's Manson, saving the day for his team!" King says.


"Well, a second later and Bruce would have been a goner," adds Pete.


Blank rolls off the table and goes down to a knee for a moment, as Manson wraps an arm around Zyon's head, who still sits on the top rope. He tries to grab his legs for a Muscle Buster, but Akira puts a stop to it, as he lunges forward and breaks up Manson's hold on Zyon with a push to the back. Akira shoves Manson again, this time into the turnbuckle face first. Manson stumbles back and right into Akira's waiting arms. He steps forward in front of Manson, grabbing him by the back of the head in a three-quarters bulldog. He runs up the turnbuckle then launches himself off Zyon's chest, flipping backwards and looking for the Divine Wind through the table! However, Blank saves him this time, pulling the table out of the way, but Akira hits the Divine Wind regardless.




"It doesn't count, you know."


Akira slaps the mat from his knees, but his frustration doesn't occupy him for very long, as Bruce delivers a kick to the back of the head. Akira goes down, grabbing his head, as Blank sets up the downed table. He turns back around toward Akira, but is instead blasted with a flying dropkick from Zyon off the top turnbuckle! Blank goes up and over the table, coming to a stop on his back, as Zyon turns his attention toward Manson, who begins to stir. He gets up to his knees, and taking advantage of the situation, Zyon quickly leaps onto the table and jumps off, dropping a leg across the back of Manson's neck!


"Again Zyon takes a chance and uses the table to his advantage," Pete says. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's one hundred percent."


"Yeah, but he got trapped by Bruce, didn’t he Pete!" King fires back as Zyon gets caught with his back to Bruce Blank.


Bruce comes up to his feet, grabbing Zyon and whipping him toward the near side ropes. He grabs the smaller Zyon as he comes back, throwing him up with a huge backdrop. However, the agile Zyon manages to turn his body in mid air and instead of being flipped over Bruce’s head, he instead drives both his feet straight into Bruce’s chest with a picture perfect dropkick that knocks Bruce backwards, driving his lower back into the table edge.




Zyon quickly locks an arm around Bruce's head and leaps into the air for his patented Bring Me Down DDT, but once he begins twisting in mid air, Manson rushes in and totally annihilates Zyon with a big Western Lariat!! Stan Hansen watches on somewhere proud, as the Lariat knocks the much smaller Zyon to the ground with such force that he flips over and ends up half way out of the ring.


"Jesus!" King shouts, obviously impressed with the massive Manson's power, "Did you hear that impact?!"


"I did and it was like a baseball bat hitting a side of beef," says Pete, trying to come up with an apt description for those reading along.


If this had been a regular match odds are good that Manson would have gotten the pin fall, but in this match pin falls don’t matter, DQs don’t exist and you can’t get counted out. All that matters is driving your opponents through a table, and with that in mind, Manson quickly heads outside and grabs Zyon by the hair, dragging him back inside the ring and by the table that's already been set up. The moment Manson lifts Zyon up in the – all that matters is driving your opponents through a table. With that in mind Manson quickly grabs Zyon by the hair and drags him over to the table that’s set up in the ring. The moment the Raging Bull lifts Zyon up in the air Akira gets a second wind and comes darting out from the corner, spearing Manson in the midsection.


"Manson just took the spear but stayed on his feet!!" King shouts in amazement as Akira, try as he might, just isn't strong enough to drive Manson to the canvas, but at least he got the Stampede to let go of Zyon.


"He's just too small for Manson, I mean just look at him. He's a fully grown horse and they're a couple of birthday ponies compared to him," Pete says, pointing out the obvious size difference.


Manson charges Akira, going for a lariat, but the Divine Wind ducks under it, and Manson bounces off the ropes. Coming back, Zyon and Akira team up to lift the larger Manson into the air with a backdrop. They manage to flip Manson over the top rope, where he lands on the apron while grabbing the top rope. Akira quickly kicks Manson in the stomach, doubling him over while Zyon follows up by leaping over the top rope and landing on his feet, into a sunset flip powerbomb attempt.


"Manson has the ropes!! He ain’t going down that easily!!" King shouts as Manson blocks, clutching the top rope, as Akira sidesteps toward him.


"SUPERKICK!!" Pete screams out as Kaibatsu drives his boot straight into Manson’s jaw with such force that the big man releases his grip on the rope, allowing Zyon to finish the powerbomb!


Manson flies off the apron guided by Zyon’s hands on his jeans and is driven through the table on the outside!!






"Great teamwork eliminated Manson! Holy hell what an upset this would be, as Akira and Zyon take the lead in the match. All they have to do now is take care of Blank! Pete screams as the entire arena comes unhinged after the unexpected elimination.


"They got lucky, but don't forget that Manson isn't out of the actual match! It's not a two on one contest," King reminds Pete and the viewers at home.


"Or at least it won’t be when Manson recovers from being driven through the table," Pete adds, as Manson lies still on the nearly bare floor. "If he recovers."


"Heathen, do you doubt MANSONOSITY?!"


With Manson down Akira turns his attention back toward Bruce, still leaning against the turnbuckles in the corner holding his lower back, obviously in pain from when he was driven into the table edge earlier. With a four step run, Akira jumps onto the top rope and springboards off, aiming a dropkick straight at Bruce in the corner.




The light bulbs in the crowd flash, but at the last second Bruce moves out of the way, resulting in Akira missing the dropkick completely and hitting the top turnbuckle back first before bouncing backwards, crashing to the canvas.


"Bruce had to be playing possum there, suckering Akira right in," Pete says in an indignant tone.


"Brilliant plan! And it worked too didn’t it?" King replies


"Well. Yeah, okay, I’ll have to admit that it DID work," Pete reluctantly admits.


Zyon grabs the top rope and leaps into the ring behind Bruce’s back, then leaps onto the table set up in the ring, running across it. Bruce spots the Unique Youth out of the corner of his eye, though, as he quickly kicks one of the legs out from under the table. It tilts on one end, causing Zyon to slip and slam his jaw straight into the corner edge of the table, surprising Zyon and not even giving him time to protect himself by putting his hands up to take away some of the impact


"SICK! Zyon is going to need to see a dentist once this match is over," Pete says with horror in his voice as he sees Zyon spit up blood.


"Is Isaac Yankem is busy these days?" King ponders.


Bruce folds the other table leg and then picks up the table, raising it up in the air and aiming straight for Akira in the corner.




The table snaps into several pieces as Bruce drives the edge of it square into Akira’s gut with all the power he has in his two hundred ninety-five pound frame. The impact knocks Akira through the ropes and onto the apron as Bruce turns toward the crowd and flexes his massive arms in celebration.




"Focus Bruce!! Focus!!" King pleads as Bruce has his back turned to Zyon.


With one hand on his bleeding jaw Zyon runs across the ring, then leaps up on Bruce’s shoulders, locking his knees around the big man's head before flipping forward, gripping the top rope to guide his body as Zyon drags Bruce out of the ring with a vicious snap to the hurracanrana.




"HOOOOOOOOOOLY!!" is all Pete can think of as he witnesses the stunning move by the bleeding and hurt Unique Youth.


Zyon manages to hold on to the top rope and land on the apron while Bruce flips over and smacks against the floor and the guardrail at high speed. A quick roll later and Zyon enters back into the ring, where he notices Manson is conscious again after being driven through a table and is now stalking Akira, still kneeling on the ground and recovering from the tumble he took out of the ring.


"Where the hell is Zyon going?" King asks as the young man bounces off the ropes on the opposite side of where Manson is closing in on Akira.


"HE’S COMING RIGHT FOR US!!" Pete yells out in surprise as Zyon runs towards Manson and dives between the top and the middle rope like a torpedo with a tope aimed right at Manson!


Manson adjusts his wide frame at the last moment to catch Zyon in mid leap, then twists it around and power slams Zyon straight onto the announcers table, driving both of them through the wood and sending Pete and King’s monitors and papers flying everywhere!


"Oh, f*ck!" Pete screams as he has to leap out of the way of Manson’s table breaking antics.


"Talk about being close to the action!" King says as both he and Pete back away from fight.


"You know what this means King? Zyon has been put through a table!! Next elimination decides the match!" Pete says.


"I sure hope it does, but are you sure THIS table counts?" King asks, not totally sure about the rules of the match, but a quick nod from Nick Soapdish confirms that the announcer's table does indeed count, so now it’s down to either Akira or Bruce being put through lumber.


Manson pulls Bruce back onto his feet and helps him get steady before picking up one of the tables stacked on the outside, grabbing it by each end. Because Zyon distracted Manson before he could attack Akira, he's been able to recover and get back on his feet, ready to resume the fight. But his fighting spirit is quickly snuffed out as Manson and Bruce run at him and sandwich Kaibatsu between the ring post and the table, driving forward with enough force to break it over Akira's body!


"HE’S OUTTA HERE!! Bruce and Manson wins!!" King yells out as he begins to celebrate another heel victory.


"Hold on there, King! I don’t think it's done quite yet!" Pete says to try and calm his co-commentator down.


Both Bruce and Manson think they’ve won as well as they raise their arms in celebration when Nick Soapdish approaches Funyon to inform him of what the official stance on the match is. After nodding a few times, Funyon stands and addresses Bruce, Manson and the crowd.


"Because Akira Kaibatsu was not driven through the table, but rather, had it broken over him, it has been determined that this is not a fall so the match MUST CONTINUE!!"




"What? A broken table is a broken table, Soapdish! This is ridiculous!" King angrily spits out, obviously displeased with the decision.


"Great call on Soapdish’s part!" Pete says, applauding the strict interpretation of the rules and riling King up further.


Upon hearing the announcement, Bruce and Manson go livid, with Bruce going so far as to grab Nick by the shirt and yell in his face while Manson spits at a fan at ringside. But before the situation can escalate, Zyon launches himself at the Raging Bull with a shard of table wood in his hands, driving them both over the top of the guardrail and into the crowd. The first row quickly clears out as the two combatants slam down onto the concrete, coming up to their feet and continuing to fight.


"They may have contributed as a fall already, but Zyon and Manson are looking to be a factor. They've still got a lot of fight in them, especially Manson." King says as Zyon rams the jagged edge of the wood against Manson’s forehead a couple of times.


"Can we please get them out of the crowd? This isn't right, especially with Zyon swinging around that piece of wood," Pete pleads as Manson and Zyon roll around the front row chairs, knocking them over and pushing fans away.


Zyon looks to jab Manson with the shard again, but is cut off as Manson lands a haymaker to Zyon's jaw and kicks him in the gut, doubling him over. He prys the wood out of Zyon's hands, tossing it aside, then wipes his hand across his forehead. He looks at his fingers, his eyes wide open and realizing he's been cut open by the Unique Youth as he stares at the blood in his hands. His eyes wide open and his nostrils flaring,


"I think Manson is fixin’ to show us why he’s called the Raging Bull!" King says as Manson entire body shakes with rage.


Manson rushes in to strike Zyon with a lariat, but Zyon is too quick for the seething Bull as he ducks under the arm, sending Manson flipping back over the guardrail. Manson gets to his knees and after releasing Nick, Bruce turns his attention toward the fight just in time to see Zyon run at the guardrail. He leaps up and balances on the top before diving at Bruce with a No Regards Twisting Body Press that drives Bruce back toward one of the tables set up on the outside. Step by step he stumbles back…




With the match hanging in the balance Manson leaps forward and sacrifices his own body by diving through the table, breaking it a split second before Bruce would have been driven through it, as Bruce instead falls onto the floor.


"That’s quite an unusual tactic by Manson," Pete says as they watch Zyon and Bruce land on top of him.


"He saved his teammate regardless and that’s what matters. Manson is the kind of guy that doesn’t mind putting his body on the line as long as he wins, he’s proved that tonight more than once," King points out, giving credit to Manson for the move.


The Unique Youth is quickly back on his feet and slides an unbroken table into the ring under the bottom rope, before helping Akira back to his feet. Together Akira and Zyon grab Manson by the jeans and roll him under the bottom rope into the ring, entering right afterwards.


"I’m not sure why they're focusing on Manson and not Bruce. He's the one they really need to eliminate."


"But if they take Manson out of the fight here and now, especially since he's weakened after going through a table for the second time, then Bruce is easier to beat. He may be good, he may be big and strong but even he can’t overcome TWO world class athletes like Zyon and Akira," Pete replies.


Zyon unfolds the table legs and sets it up in the ring while Akira keeps Manson under control with a quick standing Senton Bomb that drives the air out from Manson’s lungs. Akira grabs the literal Stampede by the right hand, Zyon on the left, and they drag him back up to his feet, then whip him to the ropes.


"These two are working quite well together considering this is their first time teaming," Pete comments as the two partners wait for Manson to bounce back from the ropes.


"And so have Manson and Blank, with Manson sacrificing himself earlier for the team."


"Speaking of, Bruce has just crawled back into the ring!" Pete warns as the Ultraviolent Champion enters.


Zyon and Akira leap into the air, extending their legs and snapping Manson backward with a perfectly synchronized double dropkick that draws the cheers of the fans. Zyon quickly stands back up, spotting Bruce as he gets to his feet. He leaps at Bruce, wrapping his arm around the neck and looking for a Tornado DDT, while Akira starts to climb the ropes. But Bruce simply tosses Zyon high into the air and onto his stomach.


"Bruce blocked the DDT!! He just put on the brakes and stopped Zyon mid air!" King says as Bruce quickly grabs the table that's been set up in the ring by Akira and Zyon.


"Blank better pay attention to his partner, he’s about to get flattened by Akira!" Pete points out as he lines up for a Moonsault.


Akira bounces off the top rope and flips backwards, aiming straight at the prone Manson on the mat. However, Bruce rushes over, brushing Manson out of the way of the Moonsault and setting up the table right in Akira's path. The Divine Wind is unable to stop his momentum on the Moonsault and he comes down on the table with his upper body and head crashing through!




For a second the entire arena is silent until…






The crowd complains loudly as the bell rings to call for the end of the match. The boos turn even louder as referee Nick Soapdish raises Bruce’s arm in the air while the announcement is made by Funyon.












Since Bruce was the reason Akira went through the table his team takes the victory in a very hard fought, brutal match, a decision the fans are not happy with at all, as Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Don't Ask Me No Questions" hits. Bruce extends his right hand and helps Manson up from the canvas in what is probably the first sign of respect that Bruce has ever shown anyone in SWF.


"You know what, I think Manson just needs the right kind of environment to thrive. He's usually too restricted by rules. He just needs to be able to cut loose like he did tonight and he’ll a force to be reckoned with," King points out as Bruce high fives Manson in the ring.


Then in a final act of disrespect Bruce rolls Akira over on his back and mocks him by bowing to him with a smirk, while Manson, holding his ribs, places a thumb against his nostril and blows a snot rocket at him, before doing the same to Zyon.


"What a pair of asses. I’m sorry, but there's just no other way to describe it. They deserve each other and I hope they rot," Pete says as Storm heads to a commercial break.

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We return to Storm from the commercial break, only to be surprised by "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez entering the ring and playing to the crowd, who welcome their favorite with open arms.


"Welcome back fans, and I'm sure you're all just as surprised as we are. Cortez and Stryke will do battle tonight, however that's not until a little later, so we've spent the last few minutes trying to figure out just what Todd Cortez is doing out in the ring."


"He's got the mic, genius" quips Suicide King, ever ready to chastise his broadcast partner. "Maybe you could stop talking and start listening?"


Cortez paces the ring, already clad in his ring gear for his upcoming bout, and pauses for a moment to allow the fans to get their affections out.






The chant dies down, and Cortez nods to his supporters before speaking.


"I'm sure everyone's surprised to see me come out here like this. Everyone knows Todd Cortez is a man of few words. Thing is, I've had something on my mind since last week, more specifically, since the match with Wildchild that saw the SWF World Heavyweight Champion as acting referee."




"Listen to this crowd, showing their distate for the current champion, El Luchadore Magnifico!" remarks LDP.


In the ring, Cortez continues.


"Last week, I did something wrong, and I admit it. I let my emotions get the better of me. I have always prided myself on being a man of my word, and last week I broke my word. When the title match for the December pay per view was made, there was an agreement that ELM and myself would wait until that night, until the bell rang, to lay hands on each other. Despite his character, there was a mutual respect between us, and last week during the match with Wildchild, I knew ELM would try something. He's ALWAYS looking to try something. Well, whatever he intended to do, the one thing he succeeded at one hundred percent was that he got me to break my word, something no one has been able to make me do in my life. So, now having admitted that, I'd like for the World Heavyweight Champion to come down to the ring, because I want to shake his hand and apologize."




"Haha, how about that, Pete? Cortez is trying to be an upstanding citizen, and these vultures are crapping on him for it!"


"I think it's more the fact that Magnifico is not the type of person that should be apologized to, especially after all he's done in his career."


After a few moments of quiet, a voice booms over the PA System.




The sound of "Tu Final" fills the arena, and entering the arena is a smug looking Magnifico, with a mic in one hand and the SWF World Title draped over his shoulder. The crowd lets him have it right from the get go, and the displeasure is mutual as ELM shoots cold glares towards the fans as he makes his way towards the ring.


"Whoa, whoa, WHOA. Let me get this straight..." says Magnifico as he climbs up the ring steps, while Cortez backs up and gives him the space to enter. "...YOU called me out to apologize to me?"


Cortez nods his head, while Magnifico looks at him as if he's got two heads.


"Todd Cortez, you my friend are a LIAR!"




Cortez, angered at the accusation, asks Magnifico how that's possible.


"Oh don't play stupid, Cortez. I know a trap when I see one. You came out here and broke your silence, you broke that whole "let my actions do the talking" code you've got going on, just to lure me to the ring. Well let me tell YOU something, Cortez. You're not going to jump me, you're not going to tear my arm out of the socket, you're not going to spike me with your Riot Act Plus and soften me up for the pay per view. The only reason I'm in this ring is because I wanted to tell you face to face that your little plan has failed!"


The crowd is ragging Magnifico like there's no tomorrow, while Cortez just snickers.


"Plan? Scheme? I appreciate you giving me so much credit, but that's not the case. You see, I'm a man who can admit when he did something wrong, and while putting you on your ass isn't wrong in my eyes, it is when I promised to hold off on doing so. So for that, I am sorry, and I'm extending my hand to you for it."


True to his word, Cortez lowers the mic, and then extends his right hand for a handshake. The crowd boos again, not wanting to see the Urban Legend make peace with his foe, and Magnifico looks Cortez up and down before shaking his head "no" and backing away.


"Oh no, no way Cortez. Do I look like I was born yesterday? I shake your hand and then what? You shoot on me? Take me to the mat and rip my arm out of the socket, try to injure me so it's easier to get this title off me? I don't think so. In fact, the only way you're going to get this belt is by prying it out of my cold, dead hands!"


The tension is thicker than ever, as Cortez and Magnifico are now face to face. Todd is the first one to step away in retreat, again choosing to speak rather than act.


"Alright then, you don't wanna shake my hand, then I'll tell you what. Hit me."


"What!?" asks a perplexed Magnifico, as the crowd looks on.


"Hit. Me."


"Hit you?"


"I went back on my word and attacked you last week. Now, the way I see it, you owe me a receipt for it. So, here it is, take your shot. HIT ME."


Cortez puts his arms out, showing Magnifico that he's leaving himself open for the shot. Magnifico stares at Cortez, and again shakes his head no.


"No. I'm not doing it, Cortez. I'm not giving you what you want, because that would be like giving them what they want, and we all know I could give a damn about THEM, and about YOU!" shouts Magnifico, revealing his already known feelings to the crowd.


"You know why you won't do it, champ? I know why. It's because we're face to face. Nose to nose. You won't hit me because I already know it's coming, and that's just not your style, now is it? So I'll tell you what..."


Cortez turns around, putting his back to the champion.


"...NOW you can hit me. Go ahead, Magnifico. Make it a good one, because you're only getting one."


The crowd is at a fever pitch, watching as Magnifico drops his mic and pulls his title belt off his shoulders, clutching the center plate in both hands and preparing to ram it into the back of Cortez's skull. He braces himself, and just when it looks like he's going to spring into action he slowly steps back, causing the crowd to sting him with another taunt.






Hearing the chants, Cortez turns around, just in time to see the World Champion step out onto the apron and hop to the floor, waving his finger "no" to Cortez, as if he's won some intellectual battle.


"You're dumber than you look, you know that?" says Cortez, which causes ELM to stop dead in his tracks and sneer. "You just had your chance. The chance of a lifetime...man you could have taken me out! Instead, you showed mercy. You showed mercy for the first time ever, and you know what? Come the pay per view, come that moment where you're looking up at the ceiling, trying to see through the stars as I'm walking around the ring with THAT BELT WRAPPED AROUND MY WAIST, you're going to kick yourself for not taking this chance, and that kick is going to hurt almost as much as when I drop you on your head for a three count!"


The crowd roars, and Magnifico, furious, kicks the guardrail and shakes his head no, claiming that it won't happen.


"We'll see about that. You wait, Cortez, you wait and we'll just see about that!" shouts Magnifico at the popular superstar, who calls him back to the ring, although the champion is having none of it. Magnifico retreats up the ramp, and once again the "Coward" chant starts up, and this time Cortez holds the mic out to the crowd, hoping to amplify the voices of the thousands who are on his side in this rivalry. Magnifico sneers and points a finger, issuing a warning to Cortez before turning and storming up the ramp, then disappearing behind the curtain.


"What a situation that turned out to be! Todd Cortez offered the World Champion a free shot in order to make amends for his actions last week, and Magnifico wouldn't take it!"


"C'mon now, Pete, you know damn well this was a set-up of some kind."


"I don't think so. I felt that Cortez felt he was being honorable in his efforts, but looking at what just went down, he's obviously got Magnifico running scared!"


"Bull. Magnifico is just as good at the mind games as Cortez is. He didn't hit Cortez because that's what Cortez wanted. Now the ball is in Magnifico's court!"


"I don't know about that King, but what I do know is that we haven't seen the last of Cortez tonight, nor have we seen the last of great SWF action, as we'll have more of it after this quick timeout!"

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The scene opens up to show the inside of the Savvis Center in St. Louis, Missouri where the Suicide King and Longdogger Pete are sitting at the announcer’s booth, waiting for the next match to start. “Any idea when these two twits are going to stop wasting our time?” King pipes up, quite irritated. “No idea… welcome back ladies and gentleman… we are supposed to have a match between Candice and Jason Von Dierch, who we haven’t seen since his brutal match with Bruce Blank, but for some reason we can’t seem to find these two for their match.” Pete explains to the audience at home. “Lets just move on… we don’t need to see this anyways.” King suggests. “Hold on folks… we’re getting word from backstage that there’s a big commotion coming from Candice’s locker room area.” Pete says.


A backstage camera takes over the feed as the man behind the camera is racing down the hallways of the backstage area, heading towards the source of the shouting and screaming. As the camera man rounds a corner, the form of Jason Von Dierch can be seen walking out of someone’s locker room. The young man just glares down the hall at the camera for a few seconds, then turns around and walks in the opposite direction as the camera man races down the hall to reveal the room as Candice’s. The camera man pushes open the door to find the room completely demolished. Wood splinters everywhere, broken glass littering the floor, broken mirrors lying against the locker stalls, and in the middle of it, Candice literally hanging from the ceiling, struggling desperately to free herself from the noose that is around her neck as blood pours down her face from several deep cuts while her manager Frisco lies against the wall unconscious, drowning in a pool of his own blood.


“Oh my god…” Pete chokes out as several EMT’s race into the room and cuts the rope that was hanging Candice, causing her to come crashing down on the floor. Several more EMT’s rush into the disaster area that was her locker room and begin to tend to her and Frisco. “Hell yeah… that’s what I’m talking about.” King approvingly states. “Jason just became my new best friend here.” Pete disgustingly looks over at his colleague. “Why, because he just brutalized a woman?” he demands. “No you clod… because he saved us from having to watch another boring match.” Pete answers.


“Well at any rate folks, it looks like Jason Von Dierch has prematurely delayed his bout with Candice by brutalizing the poor woman in her own locker room. This is defiantly not the result we were all hoping for, and we will try to keep you updated on her condition as the night progresses.” Pete solemnly states. The cameras fade out as the EMT’s continue to work on Candice and Frisco.

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Well, up next, we have what could best be described as a workout for one man, and the chance of a lifetime for another. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, King?"


"...what? I'm sorry, what were you saying? I was too busy with the fans here, Pete."


"The fans? Well, I'm glad to see that you've renounced your bitterness towards them, and are extending some holiday cheer on behalf of the SWF this December!"


"Of course. Did you SEE the cans on that blonde? Holy mother of..."


"AS I WAS SAYING, this next matchup is going to be an even matchup if there ever was one. The Urban Legend, Todd Cortez, one of the SWF's most popular competitors, just a short time away from a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship, goes up against Australia's own Stryke. For Cortez, he gets to warm himself up as he anticipates El Luchardore Magnifico at our upcoming pay per view broadcast, while a victory by Stryke here could put him in line for a title shot regardless of the outcome of ELM/Cortez! King, your thoughts?"








"Well, I think we know what the King is going to be finding in his stocking this year, namely a restraining order. Let's get to the ring, as we're ready for our next matchup."




"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest here on SWF Storm is set for one fall!"


With those words exiting Funyon's mouth and filling the arena, the sounds of Cypress Hill emit from the speakers, marking the arrival of the Australian import, ready to do battle inside an SWF ring. "How Can I Just Kill A Man" plays loudly, and draws a sizable pop from the audience, as the scarred superstar known as Stryke steps out onto the ramp, walking through the blue and white pyro that showers the entranceway.


"Introducing first, he hails from Sydney, Austraila! Weighing in tonight at two hundred and thirty pounds, this is STRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYKE!"


The smoke and fog from the fireworks follows the determined superstar down the aisle, as he walks with a purpose, entering the ring under the bottom rope and coming up to his feet with fists pumped in salute to the crowd.


"SWF matchmakers have apparently been pleased with the efforts of this young man in recent weeks, and tonight he gets an opportunity against one of our very best."


"Please Pete, don't make excuses for the suits. They're throwing this poor kid to the wolves."


"Now why would you say that?"


"You know me, I just enjoy stirring things up. It makes things interesting around here!"


"C'mon now King, the SWF has NEVER been at a lack for interesting developments."


Stryke stands on the far side of the ring and warms up, while Funyon allows B-Real and the rest of "The Hill" to die out before the next combatant is introduced. Moments later, the rap hit "Oh No" starts up, and fans get drawn into a frenzy, as it can only mean the arrival of one of the SWF's toughest and most beloved superstars.


"His opponent, hailing from Hollywood Boulevard, weighs in tonight at two hundred, twenty six pounds...he is the URBAN LEGEND, TODD CORRRRRTEZZZZZ!"


With an explosion of pyro behind him, the Spanish superstar jogs down the aisle, slapping a few hands along the way, as many scramble over to the guardrail to be able to slap hands with the superstar clad in sunglasses. Once at ringside, Cortez disposes of his sunglasses and his trademark bulletproof vest, then gives a kiss to his treasured cross that hangs around his neck before entering the ring.


"It has been quite the year for that young man, as he's certainly had his ups and downs, and in just a short time, gets a shot at the biggest prize in the land!"


Cortez circles the ring, while Stryke watches on, allowing Todd a moment to climb the ropes and play to his fans. Todd hops down and goes over to Stryke, eyeing him with some reservation, but he extends his hand nonetheless, and the Australian superstar reacts in kind, shaking the hand of his fellow fan favorite as things are about to get underway here on Storm.




After shaking hands, the two men immediately tie up and jockey for position. With both men being fairly even in the strength department, neither one can really can a clear advantage, so they spend the first few moments shoving each other back and forth across the canvas.


"Both men struggling to gain an advantage here, but you're dealing with two of the SWF's most persistent superstars."


After moving across every inch of the canvas in an effort to one-up each other, Cortez manages to back Stryke in the corner, which causes referee Jefferson Harding to call for a break. Immediately, Cortez throws his hands up and backs away, giving Stryke enough room for a recovery without having to worry about a cheap shot.


"What an idiot. If that was me in there, I'd have thrown my hands up, stepped back a bit, and then punted that sap in the nards."


"Well congratulations King, I think you've just made this the first episode of SWF television to include a word coined in the movie "The Monster Squad".


"Don't get lippy with me."


Stryke nods to Cortez, a silent appreciation for his clean cut tactics, and comes out of the corner circling the Urban Legend. Stryke uses a go-behind, but Todd reaches back and snapmares him over, quickly breaking the waistlock. He rolls Stryke over and pulls him up, striking with a pair of hard chops before pushing Stryke into the ropes and whipping him to the far side. Stryke rebounds right into a hiptoss, but gets to his feet just as he's taken over. Cortez moves forward and tries for an inverted atomic drop, but as he tries to lift Stryke, he gets blasted across the shoulder blades with a forearm, and then Stryke hits the ropes and comes off with a running lariat that blasts Cortez just under the chin and puts him down! Stryke motions for Todd to get up, and then scoop slams him when he does, then drops down and applied a rear headlock, knowing that if he can keep Cortez grounded in the early going, it could put a damper on a high-impact assault later in the match.


"Now that is how you know when someone has studied their opponent. Stryke knows that Cortez is at his best when his back is against the wall, so instead of turning this into a full throttle free-for-all, he's looking to wear Cortez out and halt Cortez's traditional offense."


Stryke clings to Cortez, wrenching the head, but Cortez manages to roll to his knees and power up, turning Stryke's rear headlock into more of a side headlock. He elbows his way free, and then hits the ropes, and Stryke immediately drops down, forcing Cortez to jump over him, which he does. What Stryke didn't expect was for Cortez to put on the brakes, as he stops from running itno the ropes and turns around to deliver a legdrop to the back of his head! Stryke rolls across the canvas holding his head, and uses the ropes to get back up, only to find himself spun around by Todd and rocked with a European uppercut! The blow rocks Stryke and he falls against the ropes, but he's pulled away by Todd, who connects with a boot to the stomach and then hits the ropes that run alongside Stryke, coming off with a running boot to the side of the...NO! Stryke manages to grab Todd's leg and throws it down, then drills the Urban Legend with a quick STO! He then pulls Todd back up and sends him crashing to the canvas with a snap suplex, then pulls him up again and sends him across the ring and into the corner, where Cortez smashes into the turnbuckles! Stryke charges in, but Cortez puts a boot up...only for that one to be caught by Stryke as well! Stryke throws the leg down and hits a quick shoulderblock, pinning Cortez in the corner, and then sets his foe up on the top rope. Stryke follows suit, wrapping his arm around Todd's head, but the feisty Spaniard hits a pair of kidney punches to stun his foe and shoves him off the ropes!


"That crash landing couldn't have felt good!"


"Peter, when does ANY crash landing feel good?"


"Point taken, King." says Pete in agreement.


Stryke shakes it off and gets up, just in time to see Cortez launch himself off the top rope...and right over Stryke! Stryke is confused for a moment, and this gives Cortez the time to catch him and take him by the arm, sending him into the other corner...until Stryke puts on the brakes and uses the whip attempt to pull Cortez close...right into an overhead belly to belly suplex!




Cortez slams down on the canvas with a loud "THUD!", while Stryke comes up to his feet and runs his hand through his short brown hair. He kneels in anticipation, waiting for Cortez to rise up off the canvas...and then moves into action, catching the recovering superstar off guard with a schoolboy roll-up!






Cortez is able to roll his body over and break the hold, but as he gets to his feet Stryke is still right there, pulling Cortez up across his shoulders and holding him there while he begins to spin around and around and around, drawing a sizable pop from the audience!


"Airplane spin by Stryke, and I'm getting nauseous just watching them get dizzy!"


Stryke spins and spins like a human top, getting himself just as dizzy as his opponent. He drops Cortez after what seems like hundreds of revolutions, but was really in the area of 20. Cortez slumps to the canvas, holding his head in an effort to get the room to stop spinning, while Stryke falls backwards slowly, landing in the arms of referee Harding! Poor Jefferson doesn't know what to do, and looks around as the crowd mixes laughter with their cheering, before pushing Stryke up and allowing him to stand on his own. Stryke stands still, and as Harding moves away smiling about a job well done, Stryke takes a back bump, landing hard on the canvas next to Cortez!






"Poor Jefferson, listen to this crowd get on him!"


Harding just shrugs, and says "I didn't mean it!" to the crowd, who are ragging on him more out of fun than hatred. After settling his differences with the crowd, Harding begins the count, given the fallen fighters a window of ten seconds to return to their feet, or risk having the match ruled a draw.












Cortez is the first to get up, and although he's off balance and rocky, the ability to get up has broken the count. He wobbles for a second before regaining his composure and moving after his rival, who is just sitting up. Cortez helps him to his feet and rocks him with a forearm shot across the cheekbone, then backs him into the ropes and sends him across the ring and then catching him on the rebound, stunning him with an inverted atomic drop and following that up with a ROARING ELBOW~! to the jaw that knocks Stryke off balance and into the ropes. The fall into the ropes propels him back forward, into the waiting arms of Cortez, who catches him and carries him over, powerslamming him down and ending the sequence by keeping him pinned down, with a leg hooked!








"Close call there, but I've got to give Stryke credit tonight. He has shown a lot, and if he's able to defeat Cortez tonight, then that will put him in line for a title shot, regardless of the outcome of the upcoming Magnifico/Cortez encounter!"


After the kickout, Cortez gets up, and Stryke gets a taste of his own medicine, as the Urban Legend simply leaps into the air and comes down with both feet pressing into the chest of Stryke, hurting him with a double stomp! The move was done merely to keep Stryke in place, as immediately afterwards Cortez steps out of the ring and out to the apron, hooking the top rope with both hands before sending himself airborne, as he springs off the top rope and comes down with a kneedrop that drills his knee into the temple of his opponent! Cortez rolls through with the move, popping up to his feet and immediately leaping onto the middle rope, sending himself back into the air, this time floating backwards enabling him to crash down on top of Stryke with a graceful quebrada!








"Another kickout by Stryke, although Cortez has been able to to strike hard in the last few moments."


Cortez gets up off the fallen body of Stryke and brings him up, wrenching his arm and then snapping him over with a Russian Legsweep, and rolls through with it, rising Stryke off the mat while clenched in an inverted facelock and then drops him with an inverted DDT!


"Nice chain of manuevers by Cortez!"


Cortez reaches down and pulls Stryke up to a seated position, then fires off a quick roundhouse kick to the back before running to the ropes and connecting with another hard strike, a soccer kick to the back. Cortez then hits the ropes again and hops over Stryke, rebounding off the far side, but as he moves head-on towards Stryke, Stryke rolls to his feet and springs forward, catching Cortez before he's able to stop with a desperation clothesline! Stryke lands facefirst on the canvas with his arm draped over Cortez, and Harding is well aware of this fact, as he dives down next to the two competitors and starts the count!








Cortez rolls his shoulder, and then shoves Stryke off of him before getting to his feet. Cortez dusts himself off and hovers over Stryke, delivering a boot to the side of the head to put a damper on Stryke's comeback efforts, then takes him by the head and runs him to the corner...but Stryke slips out of his grip at the last second and shoves Cortez chest first into the turnbuckles! Cortez stumbles backwards after the collision, and Stryke reacts quickly, leaping into the air and cracking the instep of his foot against the back of Todd Cortez's head, sending him falling forward back into the corner with an enzugiri! Cortez slams his face into the top turnbuckle as he falls forward, and the impact sends him stumbling backwards a second time, and this time Stryke takes him in his arm and lifts him off his feet, tossing him over his shoulder with a quick belly to back suplex! With Cortez dazed, Stryke finally gets a minute to himself and catches his breath, then exits through the middle ropes and begins climbing the turnbuckles closest to the former SWF World Tag Team Champion.


"Looks like the Aussie is gonna go airborne here!"


"That might not be a good idea, because he could feel the boomerang effect from it."


"The WHAT?"


"The boomerang effect...everything you throw out there is liable to come back and bite you on the ass."


"Are you talking about karma?"


"No, I'm talking about the boomerang effect."


"I've never heard of such a thing."


"Well, that's why I'm more reknowned than you are."


Stryke is slow in his climb, the effects of the earlier assault by Cortez still lingering. He finally gets to the top rope, however once he does he notices Cortez beginning to stir. Rather than risk the jump, he waits on his foe, waiting until Cortez gets to his feet to take to the air, and when Cortez raises his head up along with the rest of his body, the first thing he sees is a two hundred and thirty pound Australian soaring downward with his body curled, then extending it just before he connects with Cortez, putting the Urban Legend back on the canvas with his full body weight on top!


"Frogsplash Crossbody by Stryke!"


Harding is on the canvas immediately after the superstars are, but all he can muster is a one count before Cortez quickly shoves Stryke off of him. Todd rolls onto his stomach and pushes up, but Stryke is one step ahead of him and hits the ropes, blasting him in the back of the head with a lariat, then hitting the side ropes and connecting with a swinging neckbreaker!


"Cortez did his best to shrug off the efforts of Stryke, but despite the resilience it's not coming easily!"


"Just think, if he can't handle this kid, there's no way he's going to be able to top the champ!"


Stryke yanks Todd up and attempts to trap him in a front facelock, but Cortez pushes off the canvas and runs Stryke into the corner, sandwiching him against the turnbuckles. Stryke reels while Cortez backs away momentarily, then charges back in...right into the raised boot of Stryke! Todd staggers back, and Stryke races out of the corner and springs onto Todd's shoulders and takes him down with a huracanrana, sending him rolling across the canvas! Cortez moves near the corner and pulls himself up to rest against it, but Stryke comes across the ring and hops onto the middle rope, trapping Cortez in the corner and then unloads on him with fists of fury! Stryke then hops off the ropes and back onto the dazed streetfighter's shoulders, trying to hit another rana, but this time Cortez powers out of the corner with Stryke on his shoulders and slams him to the canvas with a hard powerbomb! Stryke grunts as he absorbs the impact of the blow, and Cortez manages to pull Stryke back up off the canvas and then runs with him in his arms and powerbombs him against the turnbuckles, causing Stryke's head to whiplash terribly!




Stryke falls on his ass, dropped into a seated position against the bottom turnbuckle, and Cortez runs across the canvas and brings his leg up, ramming his knee into the side of Stryke's face! Stryke falls onto his side and rolls out of the ring to the floor, allowing himself to crash on the hard surface below. Cortez waits on him, and as soon as he sees the head of Stryke rise up past the apron, he moves for the ropes, getting some added momentum as he dives through the ropes with a tope, sending himself soaring headfirst into his opponent and putting him back on the floor!


"Dangerous to attempt, but when it connects it pays dividends, and Todd Cortez just leveled Stryke with that amazing dive through the ropes!"


The crowd chants for Todd start up again as he brings himself up and shakes off the effects of the collision. He brings Stryke up and delivers a right hand that staggers him, then another that sends him stumbling back into the guardrail, but Cortez then pulls his opponent away from the railing and rolls him back into the ring. Seeing that Stryke is hurting, Cortez doesn't follow in, instead choosing to go to the top rope. He perches himself on the top, waiting patiently for Stryke to start to come to his feet, and when the Aussie begins to rise up from the canvas, Cortez springs off the ropes, leaping over his foes back and catches him with a sunset flip for the pin!






NO! Stryke rolls through, and hooks the legs of Cortez, catapulting him up and over into the corner...but Todd plants his feet on the middle rope! Stryke turns around and finds his head scissored, as Todd kicks off the ropes and wraps his legs around Stryke's head, but Stryke throws the legs up off his shoulders, and Todd comes down face first into the top turnbuckle! As Todd falls back, Stryke quickly hooks him and lifts for the BACKDROP DRIVER~!, but Cortez manages to float over and then hits the ropes, connecting with the HOLLOW POINT~! and knocks the wind out of Stryke just as the Australian sensation was beginning to mount a comeback!


"Hollow Point! Stryke was going for his patented Backdrop Driver, but Todd Cortez managed to stay one step ahead of him and counter with his patented pounce!"


Cortez gets up quickly to his feet, and just as quickly takes Stryke by the head and sandwiches it between his knees, looking out to the sea of fans who rise up out of their chairs because they know what's coming. Cortez then looks down at Stryke, who is stuck in the standing headscissors, and then he leaps over his back, taking him by the waist and carrying him through the air with him, although the landing for Stryke brings much, MUCH more discomfort...




"God DAMN that move makes me cringe, Pete."


Stryke is lifeless upon impact, as the trademark finisher of Todd Cortez has just put his lights out. Cortez rolls him onto his back and covers, still hooking a leg just as an added measure to make sure Stryke stays down.










"Looks like the number one contender is still in prime shape and ready to give it a go at the upcoming pay per view spectacular!"


"Please, there is a big difference between facing STRYKE, and facing El Luchadore Magnifico. That man is World Champion for a reason."


"I don't think it's a good reason, though."


"You know Pete, broadcast journalists should be unbiased."


"Pot. Kettle. African-American."


"Oh cut the politically correct crap, this isn't Lockdown."


"Oh No" blares loudly as Cortez's arm is raised by Harding, and during his victory celebration he notices a familiar figure on the ramp, watching on with both focus and displeasure.


"Speaking of the champion, King, here he is!"


"See, I told you. Now when Cortez wasn't expecting it, he's going to hit the ring and take his head off with a beltshot. Watch!"


Cortez eyes Magnifico and motions for him to come down again, but all Magnifico does is gives Cortez a sarcastic clap for his victory before disappearing again behind the curtain. Cortez just shakes his head, then heads up the ropes, throwing his arms up and working his fans into a frenzy, as they're just as satisfied as he is with the victory.


"Good thing you're not a betting man tonight, King, because your man Magnifico hasn't done one thing you've said he would do."


"It's all part of the plan, trust me. The King knows these things!"


"I could write a list about what you don't know, I just don't think we'd have time for it on this broadcast. Especially since we have to take another break! What I do know though is that we'll be right back, after these words from our sponsors~!

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As we return from commercials, "Megalomaniac" is playing over the speakers, and the camera is focused in on the announcer's booth, where Landon Maddix is approaching. As he does, Suicide King has a look of utter disgust on his face at this.


"And welcome back everyone...we're ready for another great match, and we're joined by one of the competitor's Pay-Per-View opponent, Landon Maddix." Pete states.


"First off, I am NOT in a good mood right now, Pete. So you and this has-been can just shut up and let me have my comments, and don't get in my way." Maddix states as he has a seat.


"What's the matter, Maddix? Getting all pent-up since Skye dumped you." S. King asks with a smirk.


Maddix just shoots S. King an evil glare as the lights dim in the arena and "Learning to Fly" starts to play over the speakers.


Funyon: The following Hardcore match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from the Hall of Fame city of Cleveland, Ohio...standing 5'9" tall and weighing in at 215 pounds...he is the SWF International Champion...."The Dean Of Professional Wrestling"...JAY...HAWKE!


The spotlight shines down Hawke as he starts to make his way out of the backstage area, nodding in the direction of Maddix as he makes his way out.


"Well Maddix, this is a chance to further scout Max King out before your match on the 18th, as one of your teammates takes him on." Pete comments.


"I don't need to scout someone like King. I've beaten the so-called "Icon" so many times back in 2004 that I could do it in my sleep. I'm just here to see King get his ass handed to him by my boy, Hawke!"


"I wouldn't be talking about getting asses handed to..."


Suicide King is unable to finish his sentence as, as soon as Hawke is on the ring apron, the lights go out once again in the arena, cutting him off just before he can get onto the turnbuckle. The arena is silent for a few seconds, until....






The explosion of fireworks, followed by the playing of "Superstar", changes the crowd reaction to a positive one. A moment later, Hawke's opponent comes out, back in his ring attire, this time in red.


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


"DAMN that guy is annoying." Maddix calls out.


"Now THAT'S the pot calling the kettle black." S. King calls.


Pete ignores the bickering co-announcers as he continues. "Max King has showed little signs of missing a step since his car accident, but one has to wonder if he's still feeling the effects of that BRUTAL cage match with Bruce Blank just a few days ago to earn that tag team title shot."


King and Kelly get up onto the ring apron, looking out to the crowd, before stepping between the ring ropes with their kissing ring entrance...


...that is immediately greeted by Hawke attacking King as soon as he gets in the ring.


"BEAUTIFUL!" Maddix calls as the bell rings.


"Jay Hawke getting an early attack on Max King, and King hasn't even gotten his ring robe off yet!" Pete calls.


"Well, what do you expect? Look who one of his friends is..." S. King reminds, obviously referring to the guest.


Hawke whips King off the ropes after striking away at him a few times, but King manages to duck under a clothesline from Hawke, and nails Hawke with a dropkick of his own! After taking off his robe, King follows this move up with a rolling neck snap, forcing Hawke to roll out of the ring to recover.


"And I don't think that Hawke expected that from "The Icon" just now!" Pete says. "And looks, Maddix taking off his headset momentarily to talk to his man."


"He's just doing this so he can try to get some attention for himself even though he's not in this match." S. King claims.


"Well, that and it seems to also be that he's trying to give Hawke a pep-talk...but Max King having none of it as he slides out of the ring, and grabs both members of La Cucaracha International by the hair!" Pete calls, just as King slam both of their heads right into each other.


"Well, I don't know how much damage that did to the head of Maddix, but I'm sure that Hawke is going to be feeling that one for a little bit." S. King says. "And with Maddix temporarily out of it, we can have a nice calm commentary going."


King tosses Hawke back into the ring, but doesn't go in immediately, as he tells Kelly something. Kelly nods, and runs to the back, a grin on her face. King rolls back into the ring as he sees Kelly run up, nodding about something.


"Well, the fans in the first few rows got a good show, seeing Kelly run by them, though one has to wonder where she's going as we're now back to just Hawke and King. King getting Hawke up to his feet, and measures him with a right hand right to the bridge of the nose!" Pete calls. King manages to knock Hawk into the corner with the punch, and swings at his chest with a knife-edge chop...




...that causes Hawke to fall to the mat, holding his quickly reddening chest in pain. King looks to the crowd, and they give him an ovation for his actions.


"These people are sick in the head!" Maddix's voice comes up finally, as it's now apparent that he has recovered from what just happened.


"Like you're one to talk about being sick." S. King states.


"Max King I think has the advantage in this match, not just right now but throughout it, because I don't think that Hawke is completely ready for a Hardcore Rules match!"


Hawk proves Pete wrong when King gets ready to strike with a elbow to the back, swinging an arm right between King's leg with a low blow in desperation.


"You were saying?" Maddix retorts. "Hawke will be ready for anything that Max King can possibly dish out to him in this match, and that's because I gave him all the skills he needs. That's why the guy is the International Champion."


"That reminds me Maddix, where is YOUR Championship?" S. King taunts.


"Don't start with me, King...or I'll give these people a second match right in the middle of this one!"


"Come on, let's be civil men!" Pete interrupts. "Hawke now sliding out of the ring...I doubt that this match will be one of Hawke's usual technical matches, given the nature of the rules here...and Hawke has the steel chair."


"Well, I don't think you'd get a very technical match out of Max King regardless. Guy isn't really that great of a wrestler..." Maddix comments, as Hawke swings for the fences, with King's head the intended baseball.


However, Max King was ready for this, and as a unique counter ducked the shot, and took Hawke over with a Fireman's Carry!


"I think you're gonna have to eat your words right there!" S. King replies with a chuckle. "Great classic wrestling by Max King, and he's got an arm hooked up...and waving to the backstage?"


King continues to hold Hawke into the arm-bar in the middle of the ring, so the camera cuts to the entryway...and to an explosion of cheers out comes Kelly Connelly, with a shopping cart full of weapons.


"Well now we know where Kelly went off too...she's picked up some tools of the trade for her man!" Pete calls.


"I don't know how wise a move this is, though. Anything in that cart she has could be used AGAINST King as much as for him." Suicide King states.


"That's why I no longer have some stupid bimbo come with me to the ring anymore." Maddix claims, as King snaps back on the arm of Hawke before sliding out of the ring, taking the cart from Kelly with a kiss, then throwing it into the ring. Out from it come chairs, trash can lids, kendo sticks, nightsticks, and even a rope.


"King knowing just what type of match this is going to be, and he's coming ready for a war!" Pete calls. "Sliding into the ring now, but a dropkick by Hawke cuts him off at the pass!"


"GOOD!" Maddix calls. "We're NOT going to be humiliated by this worthless, broken down wreck!"


"What's this "we" stuff, Maddix?" S. King questions.


"None of your damn business!"


Hawke, in retaliation for how the match started, rushes over as King sits up, and snaps his neck in the same fashion as King earlier in the match. With "The Icon" momentarily at bay, Hawke reaches over and grabs a steel chair, a grin forming on his face as he obtains the weapon.


"YES! Blast that sorry ass punk with it!" Maddix calls.


"Hawke not even waiting for King to get up..."




"...and right across the back of King's neck!" Pete calls. "And Max King is really is feeling that after his cage match!"


"Oh yeah, can you feel it? This is going to be the end of Max King, and not soon enough!" Maddix calls. "I'll find a WORTHY partner, and I'll have this PPV to do whatever I want!"


Hawke raises the chair again in rage, and swings it once again onto King's body...




...sending the reverberating and sickening sound of metal hitting flesh throughout the arena, accompanied by the screams of Max King.


"YES! Music to my ears!" Maddix gleefully calls.


"Geez, and people call ME sick in the head." S. King comments at Maddix's overjoyed reaction.


"Jay Hawke tossing that chair out of the ring now, and he looks like he's ready to get to work on what brought him to the dance...his great wrestling skills. Setting King up...and a leg drop to the back of the neck!"


"That's the way to do it, Hawke! Break his neck in there, send him back on the injured list!" Maddix calls.


"You're just calling for him to do that because you're afraid of facing him in the ring again and you know it Maddix!"


"I'm not afraid of King, I can beat him any time I want. Watch!"


As Hawke throws King out of the ring, going to taunt at the crowd a bit, Maddix once again leaves the booth, approaching King. He's about to put the boots to Max King on the outside of the ring, but gets caught off at the pass when Kelly Connelly comes over to stand in front of her man, holding a lead pipe in her hand as she does.


"I don't know how good an idea this is, Kelly. I doubt that Maddix would be above hitting you!" S. King calls.


"Kelly didn't come un-armed though, and that was probably one of the smartest things she's done." Pete says. "And King climbing back into the ring before Maddix gets the chance to put the boots to him!"


Maddix glares in Kelly's direction as she goes to return to her corner, a big smile on her face.


"Just like a wuss like King to need a woman to fight his fights." Maddix says. "If she didn't have that weapon I would have clocked her right upside that slutty face of hers."


Pete manages to speak up before S. King can. "King starting to get up to his feet now, and Hawke right to work on King, locking in an arm bar again...and now repeated kicks into the ribs of Max King!"


"But wait a second Pete, look at King's other hand!" S. King calls.


The camera zooms onto the other hand of Max King in the middle of the ring, seeing that it has a set of brass knuckles in it!


"Now where the *BLEEP*ing hell did he get those?" Maddix questions.


The screen goes into a split mode, with live action in one corner and a replay in the other. The replay shows, as King is getting up, he slips his hand into the back of Kelly's skirt, and pulls out a pair of brass knuckles.


"Well, the old saying is behind every great man is a great woman, and Kelly is proving to be a great woman for King to have at his side!" S. King calls.


"Come on Hawke! Look at his other hand! Look at..."


Maddix's shout of warning goes unheeded, as King swings his free right arm into the gut of Hawke...the brass knuckles adding enough of a force to break up the hold. King is quick to act, shaking out the pain in his arm only momentarily, before going to kick Hawke into the gut. Hawke manages to catch the kick, but King shows his presence in the ring by hitting him right into the back of the head with a beautifully placed enzugiri. He quickly rolls on top of Hawke for the cover...






Hawke manages to get your shoulder up.


"PLEASE! Even GREAT superstars aren't able to keep Hawke down on the canvas with a mere kick like that, what makes that nobody King think he's gonna get a win like that." Maddix questions.


"Except for that nobody comment about Max, I have to agree with you, Landon. But in this type of match, who knows what Hawke can take?" Pete notes.


"He can take ANYTHING, trust me."


King grabs Hawke by the hair, correcting the referee when he tries to get King to let go about the rules of the match, before throwing him into the corner. He prepares to charge into the corner with a clothesline, but Hawke manages to get out of the way, King now crashing into the turnbuckle chest first. Surprised by how King is taking him, Hawke tries for a quick win, ducking down and cradling him up, putting his feet onto the ropes as he does.






But King manages to kick out anyway, pushing Hawke through the ring ropes.


"King surviving that attempt at a cheap win by Hawke, but Hawke manages to prevent himself from falling to the floor. King getting up to his feet..."


As soon as King is up, Hawke charges in from behind, clipping "The Icon's" legs out from behind him.


"I hate to have to admit it, but that was a smart move on the part of Hawke." S. King calls out. "King is bigger than him in size, and taking out the size is the best thing that he could do, even in this type of a match."


"Well it's about damn time that you realize just how smart Jay Hawke is in the ring!" Maddix calls. "There may be just a TINY bit of hope for you after all."


"I didn't say anything good about YOU, so don't get a bigger head than you already have."


Pete is quick to interrupt this conversation. "And look at this, Fujiwara Armbar in the middle of the ring by Hawke. He realizes that wrestling in this kind of a match could be the best way to get the victory, as Hardcore Rules aren't working for him."


King's eyes go wide as his arms are pulled back, Hawke working away at him as he tries to stretch King out for future punishment. "The only way that I can see King getting out of a move like this is to get his legs..."


Pete doesn't get a chance to finish what he's about to say, as King makes a desperate attempt to get his legs out from under him to sit out. Hawke continues to stretch away, pulling at tearing at King's body, but lets go of the hold before King manages to sit free. Taking the right arm of King, he starts kicking away at the arm a bit.


"Excuse me a minute, boys. I have something that I have to do."


"What are you...Maddix has left the ring area!" Pete calls.


As Hawke continues to work away at King's arm, Maddix slides into the ring, and starts to put the boots to "The Icon" as he's down.


"Oh come on! What, is Maddix worried that Hawke can't beat King on his own? If he's as much a loser as Maddix says, then why is it taking two of them to beat on him?" S. King questions.


"I don't know, and I don't know why Maddix would want to beat up a man to help him get a tag team title shot so badly?"


Maddix and Hawke pull King up to his feet with a double team effort, Hawke holding King for Maddix to hit him. Before Maddix can, Kelly slides into the ring, getting between them. Maddix, not wanting to stop his plan, grabs Kelly by the hair. However, before he can get something in, Kelly NAILS him with one of her high heels right into the...


"Thank God! This may mean we won't get a spawn of Maddix!" S. King calls.


Maddix rolls out of the ring, limping over to announcer's table slowly, as Kelly slides out of the ring just before Hawke can get her hands on her. Cursing at this, Hawke stomps on King, and slides out of the ring to chase her down.


"Well, no offense, but I think that you got what you deserved just then, Maddix." Pete says.


"Oh shut up!" Maddix calls back, his voice slightly higher than normal, which causes laughter from Suicide King.


Kelly manages to elude Hawke enough, and the "Dean of Professional Wrestling" just glares at her, before going under the ring again. With King still recovering in the ring, Hawke pulls out...


"Oh god, not a cinder block!" Pete calls, as Hawke carries the large object into the ring.


"And you call this guy the 'Dean of Pro Wrestling'?" S. King questions Maddix.


"Hey, this is Hardcore Rules! You and I both know that King would do the exact same thing if he had the opportunity."


Hawke sets the cinderblock in the middle of the ring, nodding, and looking over to King with a nod. Grabbing "The Icon" by the head, he prepares to DDT him right onto the block...only for King to slip free, drop down, and nail him right into the family jewels.


"Damnit, what's with these two and hitting people there?"


King, seemingly getting a second win, suddenly sets up Hawke's head between his legs, nodding to the crowd. The audience is ERUPTING in cheers at this.


"NO!" All three announcers call at once.


"King, this is cutting it too far..." Pete calls out.


King just smiles, and before anyone has any chance to do anything, he lifts Hawke up...and without a shred of mercy, gives Hawke a jumping piledriver right onto the brick!


"HOLY *BLEEP*!" S. King calls


"King is going to get the win! All he has to do is cover Jay Hawke and this match is over!" Pete calls.


"Like Hell this is going to happen!" Maddix suddenly says, as he pulls off his headset to get to the ring. King sees Maddix coming over to the ring, deciding that at the moment Hawke is down enough for him to focus on his future both opponent and tag team partner. Immediately after sliding out of the ring, the two wrestlers begin trash talking each other...well, more of Maddix doing the trash talking and King just laughing him off, taking it in stride for the moment.


"Come on King, clock that little punk and knock him out!" S. King calls out.


"King just laughing Maddix off...wait a second, from behind!"


The camera pulls over to the other side of the ring, where JJ Johnson has grabbed Kelly Connelly around the waist.


"Johnson has Kelly Connelly in his grasp, and La Cucaracha International has King right where they want him!" Pete calls. King is about to go over to Johnson, ready to fight with him at ringside...but Maddix catches him in the back of the head with a dropkick right into the ring post before he can get too far.


"Damn! Just because his boy was about to lose in a one on one match Maddix has to get involved. That damn little punk bitch!" S. King calls out.


Johnson ROUGHLY throws Kelly to the side, causing her to crash into the ring barricade, before going over to help Maddix stomp repeatedly on King as he's down.


"This is a damn mugging!" Pete correctly calls out. "Max King is completely defenseless after the match and hitting the ring post, and Maddix and Johnson are taking FULL advantage!"


"Well, you just knew that Maddix being out here was going to screw everything up from the moment he stepped foot here, and now he's going to do this. Look at this, Hawke is still down and out in the ring after hitting that cinderblock head first, and he has NO clue what is going on." S. King calls.


"Maddix and Johnson setting King up to his feet on the outside...oh great, not this!"


Maddix grabs a pair of steel chairs as Johnson holds up King, then hands one of the chairs to JJ. Before King can fall down, the two stable mates swing both chairs into King's head!


"Con-Chair-To on Max King! And the referee can't do a damn thing about it, because it's a Hardcore Match!" Pete calls. "Rolling King back into the ring now, and Johnson pulling the still unconscious Hawke on top of King!"


"Not this way...NOT THIS WAY!" S. King calls.






Johnson and Maddix have their back turns, anticipating the three count in their favor. What they don't realize is that, despite the beating to the head that King has taken, "The Icon" has enough wherewithal to roll his body over, getting Johnson into a pinning situation!










Johnson and Maddix turn around in SHOCK at hearing "Superstar" playing over the speakers, turning around just in time to see the referee raise the arm of King in the middle of the ring, as the announcement is made.


Funyon: Here is your winner, "The Icon" Max...King!


Maddix and Johnson slide into the ring to go after King again, but "The Icon" manages to roll out of the ring in time, holding his head in pain from what has happened to him already, but a smile on his face at getting the victory. Kelly, holding her back and ribs at being thrown like she was, manages to get up after a few seconds, going over to her man with a smile.


"Despite that attempt at a screw job, Max King has gotten the victory over a team-mate of his future tag team partner! How will this affect Maddix's mood going into our Holiday Season Pay Per View?"


"Who cares? Serves the punk right for everything he tried to do!" S. King claims, as King and Kelly make their way up the ramp, and Hawke is FINALLY starting to recover, realizing what happened.


"Don't go away, there's a LOT more great SWF action coming up!"


The camera fades out as Max and Kelly make their way up the ramp, nodding with smiles on their faces.

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“Our next match is the first of two Cold Front Classic semi-finals here tonight,” reports Pete. “TORU Takahara will take on the nefarious Johnny Dangerous for a spot at the finals on pay-per-view.”


“Nefarious?” King slowly repeats, questioning his announcing partner while shaking his head in agony. “I’ll just say that the future is looking very bright for our Federation’s ONLY true-blue secret agent – he’s won every match in the tournament thus far handedly! Not only that, but the Barracuda has already signed on to face off against his former tag partner, Benedict Arnold…err…Wildchild at the Christmas show in *addition* to competing at the finals of the Cold Front Classic.”


“I can’t help but think that Johnny Dangerous is going to be left trying to pull his foot out of his mouth after this match,” Pete says. “TORU is certainly no slouch in the ring and, as we saw on Smarkdown, Takahara defeated the SWF World Heavyweight Champion already – he’s the *biggest* threat ELM has seen thus far into his fourth Championship reign!”


“Please, Drain-Clogger! Facing ELM amongst three others in a fatal four-way is a far, far different beast then having to go toe-to-toe with him in a singles match!



“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following match, scheduled for one fall, is the semifinals of the Cold Front Classic Tournament! The winner of this match will go on to this years Christmas show to face two others in the finals of this grand tournament. Entering first… ”


As Funyon’s voice trails off the SmarkTron darkens and three letters flash up while the harsh drums and brutal guitars of ‘Teethgrinder’ by Therapy kick in…












Clips of the Tiger Driver, the TORU Hammer, the Shooting Star Press and assorted methods of cheating intersperse between the pulsing letters, and moments later a figure in mirror shades and a flowing vinyl trench coat appears.


“From Saitama Prefecture, Japan; he weighs in tonight at 264lbs and is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions,” Funyon booms, “this is the ‘Japanese Hammer’, TOOOORR-RRUUUUU…


TORU strolls casually towards the ring, smiling from his wonderful reception in St. Louis, Missouri. He enters the ring, mounts the corner post, and pumps his fist to the crowd as hundreds of flashbulbs explode.








“And his opponent…” Funyon bellows as TORU’S music fades out, replaced with an eerie silence before a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice…






‘After the Flesh’ kicks up, pounding from the speakers, but it’s barely heard over the hate filled jeers rolling down from the audience. Smoke rolls across the stage. Strobes kick up to illuminate the Barracuda in quick successions before finally making his grand appearance. Unfortunately, with the current times and the way things have gone about in the Johnny-verse there is no excitement to seeing this man emerge from a cloud of smoke like the mysterious man of mystery he claims to be anymore. When Johnny appears the crowd unloads on him with all their hate!







“From Las Vegas, Nevada; he weighs in at two hundred-twenty pounds and is the Federations ONLY real secret agent,” shouts Funyon, trying his hardest to be heard. “He is JOHNNY ‘THE BAAAARRAAAACUDAAAAAAA’ DAAAANGEEEROUS!!!”


Johnny walks intently towards the ring; his head down as he tries not to look at the fans. To each side of him they shout obscenities while waving their signs that display numerous messages but all have the same message: “Kick his @$$ Wildchild!”


“It still surprises me that after all the changes Johnny Dangerous felt he needed to make with his life to become a better, top-tier talent in the SWF, that it never occurred to him to change his music,” says Pete. “He was so eager to trash everything that was right in his life in exchange for this garbage that we see now; you’d think that music would remind him of the ‘old’ Johnny Dangerous…the man he felt wasn’t good enough.”


“What the hell does he need a new theme for?” asks King. “I mean, for so long when that voice called out his name and that music hit you knew that it was time to get your @$$ kicked. It’s struck fear into the hearts of many so why change it now and have everyone trying to figure out who’s music is playing, and then have to wait till they see Johnny come down to the ring before they figure out that they’re screwed. Did you see the way a cold chill ran down TORU’s back when Johnny’s music started?”


“Umm…no.” says Pete, quite matter-of-factly. “In fact, I don’t think Johnny’s music ever struck fear into the hearts of his opponents. Johnny’s whole career was made off of people underestimating what he was capable of and the Barracuda cashing in on that. Now, however, even that’s gone. Johnny has to hide behind Bruce Blank in a mask to get anything done.”


“It was Wayne Blank, idiot!”


“Which is even worse, if you ask me,” Pete adds with an affirmative nod.


Inside the ring, Johnny steps between the ropes and stands idly momentarily, eyeballing his opponent across the ring through his dark, high-tech shades, and then snickers at TORU. Dangerous removes his coat and carefully dangles it over the top rope then moves to remove his shades when TORU suddenly rushes forward, slashing the back of his hand across the Barracuda’s cheek!




TORU’S backhand slap knocks Johnny’s head to the side, sending a stream of spit, along with his favorite shades flying across the ring! Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington, the official for this match, quickly signals for the bell as the lights suddenly crank on and TORU sends fist over fist into Johnny’s noggin!















The ‘Japanese Hammer’ heaves punch after punch into Johnny’s back after sending the Barracuda spiraling around on one foot after a final backhand, beating him down into the top of the turnbuckle! He grabs the Barracuda by his neck, tears him from the turnbuckle, and forcefully SLINGS him to the mat like a rag doll, causing the ring to tremble on Johnny’s impact!


“... and this match is underway!” shouts Pete, “TORU came to this match ready to fight and came swinging out of the gates!”


Johnny arches his back up, howling in pain as Takahara storms over to him and begins ferociously stomping his foot into his chest! Johnny tries to roll to safety, but the Japanese Hammer follows him with his foot - stomping every inch of him!




Satisfied for the time being, TORU halts his assault and drops down onto Johnny, forcing his palms into Johnny’s chest.


“TORU with an early pin attempt.” says Pete as Herrington dives in for the count. “He may have it!”







T- NO!!!


“Kick out just before two - Johnny isn’t going to fall this quickly,” scoffs King.


Grunting, the Japanese Hammer grabs onto the Barracuda by his jet black mane and jerks him to his feet. TORU pops his fist into Johnny’s mouth, sending him stumbling back, then grabs onto Johnny’s wrist and whips him across the ring. The Barracuda hits the ropes, bounces back, and Takahara MIGHTILY swings out his massive arm for an early eye watering Lariat, but Johnny wisely ducks down under the blow, and tears off for the opposite ropes! He bounces back towards TORU, preparing for a DDT, but the Tag Champion quickly spins around - leading with his arm - and slices a Lariat across Johnny’s throat!




“Ha!” snorts Pete. “Johnny dodged the first big lariat but TORU managed to get it off the second time around, anyway.”


“But not nearly as powerful as that deadly Lariat he tried first.” King wistfully adds.


Once again Johnny is sent home to the mat, but the Secret Agent rolls to his feet, determined to keep fighting! He wobbles for a second, but snaps to attention when he catches a glimpse of the Japanese Hammer charging across the ring like a raging bull! TORU swings out his fist to try and land some of his patented Japanese aggression, but Johnny sidesteps the Tag Champ’s big fist and thrusts his knee into TORU’S gut! The crowd boos heavily as Takahara is stopped dead in his tracks, and another knee to the gut doubles him over! Johnny grabs onto his head, pulls back, and slams it across his knee! TORU’S head pops off Johnny’s knee like a well-aired basketball and it sends him stumbling back, but instead of the usual stunning effect Johnny has come to expect, it only seems to further Takahara’s rage! TORU grits down on his teeth hard as he shakes his head of the blow, then growls angrily as he charges towards a jaw dropped Johnny Dangerous! Once again, TORU swings his fist out for a punch, but the Barracuda ducks under the blow, swings his arm around the Tag Team Champion’s back and hikes his leg up to deliver a Scorpion Kick to the Japanese Hammer’s forehead!




“Johnny Dangerous is mounting a big comeback!” declares King. “TORU thought he could get away with overpowering the Barracuda quickly, but he didn’t count on the resilience of this Secret Agent. If Johnny can find an opening he’ll take it and, when he does, it’ll sting like crazy!”


“Yeah, but TORU has got one *thick* skull.” adds Pete. “Those kicks will only slow Takahara down for a second and do nothing more than add to his ruthless aggression.”


TORU staggers backwards from the stinging blow and Johnny closes in, spinning on one foot while swinging his other leg out to catch the Tag Champ across the side of his jaw with a spinning heel kick!




The crowds let out another loud boo as the sound of Johnny’s kick echoes through the arena, and TORU Takahara goes stumbling to the side! TORU reaches out and grabs onto the ropes with one hand, trying to stop himself from stumbling completely out of control. He comes to a stop and then reaches up with his free hand, gently massaging his jaw – none to the wiser of the stealthy Johnny sneaking in from behind. Johnny quickly hugs his arms around TORU’s waist from behind, interlocks his fingers, and with an overly loud grunt he pulls the Tag Champ off his feet and falls backwards, slamming him neck-first into the mat! Fans watch in surprise at the ability of the Barracuda and then quickly turn to a jeering mass as Johnny jumps to his feet and strikes a martial arts pose, thinking he’s cleaned his opponent’s clock… but just then the Japanese Hammer sits up…unscathed!









“I bet Johnny is shitting a brick now.” says Pete, smirking. “All of Johnny’s attacks had no effect on TORU – this man is a monster!”


“TORU Takahara has some hellacious vitality,” admits King, “but his fuel will soon diminish. All Johnny Dangerous needs to do is concentrate on avoiding TORU’s strikes and wear him down – then Mr. Takahara will be free game for some of those dazzling top rope moves the Barracuda is capable of showing us.”


“That’s about the ONLY way Johnny could possibly win,” replies Pete. “As you can already see, TORU is just doing fine withstanding everything Johnny’s shot his way. However, he’s going to have to hurry up and put Johnny away quickly or the Barracuda could prove to have more wind in him and catch the Tag Champion by surprise!”


Johnny takes a step back, staring in astonishment at the resilience behind his opponent. Johnny glances towards the far corner, trying to quickly run a game plan together. He knows that he will have to be very light on his feet with numerous, stinging blows to put the Japanese Hammer down for three. He’s fought these types before and came out successfully…not a problem to do it once more! Johnny takes off across the ring, trying to pick up some steam before hitting the ropes-


-but fails to notice that TORU has taken off in pursuit, and is right behind him! Just before Johnny reaches the ropes, the Japanese Hammer rushes in from behind, and for the second time tonight slams his knuckles into Johnny’s back! The crowds let out an “Ooooooooooooh!” as a hollow THUNK sound rings out, and Johnny slumps forward, into the ropes. TORU grabs at Johnny’s shirt but Dangerous suddenly and recklessly fires back with a mule kick towards the Tag Champ’s head…




…but TORU nimbly ducks the foot and grabs onto the extended leg before Johnny can even reel it back in! Johnny reaches out for the ring post in the corner of the ring, and just as he can feel the metal against his fingertips, TORU jerks the Secret Agent’s leg back, tearing him from the turnbuckle and sending him stomach-first into the mat! Johnny grimaces from the sharp pain in his stomach, but he knows he can’t stay in this position. He then begins to push himself up only for Takahara to run up and slam his foot into the side of Johnny’s head! The Barracuda’s head slams ferociously into the mat and he quickly grabs onto both sides of his head to shield himself. The crowds cheer heavily for TORU’S dominating match thus far and with a few seconds to spare, the Japanese Hammer turns to the fans and lets out a mighty growl and shouts something not quite audible but definitely in Japanese which gets an even louder roar of cheers from the fans!


“Color me shocked!’ marvels Pete. “I expected TORU Takahara to do extremely well for himself in this match but he’s surpassed even my *boldest* predictions here tonight. That victory over ELM must have been the beginning of something good for our Tag Team Champion.”


“Here,” says King, handing a tissue to Pete, “you’ve got something all over your face. You think that TORU coming out here with his cheap attack before the bell rang is something special but let me tell you…Johnny Dangerous knows full well what he is doing. He’s letting Takahara waste all of his precious, short supply of energy and then he’s going to level the poor bastard and make him wish he never stepped foot in the ring with him – just wait and watch!” Johnny slowly gets to his feet, but he’s met by TORU who, with an aggressive snarl, grabs him roughly by the waist and tosses him aggressively into the nearby corner! And no sooner than Johnny staggers out of the corner does TORU snatch him up and throw him right back in!


“Holy cow!” shouts Pete, as Takahara continues to use the Barracuda to play a game of human handball. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Johnny Dangerous get manhandled like this before!” TORU charges towards Johnny as he’s stumbling out of the corner and nails him with a running shoulderblock that sends him flying back into the corner! TORU launches Johnny across the ring into the opposite corner, and then grabs him as he staggers out and sends him back into the other one!


“I tell you what,” says Pete, “Johnny had better have a Plan B, because it doesn’t look like Plan A is going to get the job done; TORU is throwing him around like a rag doll!”


“TORU Takahara needs to stop posing though,” replies King, acknowledging the fact that TORU is playing to the fans in the TKO section. “He needs to follow this up!” TORU pulls Johnny to his feet and whips him into the ropes, snatching him up off the canvas as he rebounds and trapping him in a ferocious bearhug!


“He’s following it up, alright!” shouts Pete. “He’s following it up with a bearhug!”


“A devastating hold, to be sure,” agrees King. “And he might be able to get a submission out of it, if it was anybody other than Johnny Dangerous… A Secret Agent never gives up, MacDougal, and with the determination of Johnny to regain the Heavyweight Title, I don’t think that there’s any way that he’ll get a submission out of this!”


“Never gives up?” questions Pete. “I’ve seen Johnny give up plenty of times! In fact, didn’t he tap out just last year when…”


“Don’t be ridiculous!” barks King dismissively. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw. That wasn’t Johnny tapping out; it was… his stunt double! Yeah, that’s right!”


“At any rate,” continues LDP, “while Johnny might not want to tap out, he’s going to have a hard time avoiding it if he can’t get out of this hold. After all, if he can’t expand that chest, he’s not going to be able to get the oxygen that he needs, and he might not have any choice but to let discretion be the better part of valor!” Red Herrington raises Johnny’s hand and releases it, watching as it falls to his side.


“Johnny’s fading fast,” notes Pete. “He’d better come up with something quick!” Red raises Johnny’s hand a second time and the Barracuda manages to hold it up in the air. Satisfied that the match will continue, Herrington walks around Johnny and TORU to get another perspective, but while the referee is out of his line of sight, Johnny jams two fingers into TORU’s eyes!


“Holy cow!” exclaims Pete. “Did you see that? Johnny got him right in the eyes!”


“Well, that’ll get you out of any hold!” quips King, as Johnny scrambles towards a nearby corner. He climbs to the top rope as TORU is attempting to clear his vision, and then springs from the top turnbuckle, blasting the Japanese Hammer between the eyes with a flying spinning wheel kick!


“That’s it!” shouts King, as Johnny quickly scrambles to cover TORU. “That’s the match!” Red Herrington drops down to deliver a count…









… But is barely able to register a one count before Takahara kicks out with authority!


“Damn!” curses King. “I thought he had him!”


“How is a guy like Johnny going to hold down a guy like TORU, who has that kind of power?” asks Pete. Johnny beats TORU to his feet and drills him between the eyes with a right hand, but TORU shrugs it off and snatches him off the canvas, before driving him forcibly back down with a Scoop Slam!


“Wow, did you see Johnny bounce off of that mat?” asks King, as TORU picks Johnny up a second time.


“Sends him back down again,” notes Pete, “and now TORU appears to be signaling for that bearhug again; who does he think he is, Charlie Matthews?” Sure enough, Takahara pulls Johnny to his feet and wraps both arms around him, trapping him back in the bearhug.


“Johnny should go immediately back and stick those fingers in the eyes!” says King.


“Yeah right,” groans Pete. “Cheat to win, right?”


“Hey,” replies King with a shrug, “it broke the hold last time; if it worked once, it’ll work again!” Herrington checks Johnny’s arms again, letting it fall once to his side. Once again, Johnny is able to keep his hand from falling a second time, and attempts to poke TORU in the eyes again, but this time, Herrington grabs his arm to stop him!




“Whoa!” exclaims Pete. “Referee Red Herrington stopping Johnny Dangerous, just as he was about to take your suggestion, King!”


“That’s absurd,” roars King. “He doesn’t have the right to do that!”


“Well, he certainly did it,” replies Pete, “whether he had the right to or not!”


“That’s called biased refereeing!” growls King. “It’s not the referee’s responsibility to be proactive in the match; he watches the action, he makes a ruling based on what he sees. That’s it!” Suddenly, TORU pivots on his heel, flinging Johnny through the air as he twists around and planting him with a belly-to-belly suplex!


“Tremendous belly-to-belly catches Johnny before he has the chance to think of some new way to cheat!” shouts LDP, as TORU heads to the corner. “And now, Takahara’s heading up to the high rent district; we could be seeing Air TORU here in a few seconds, King!” TORU sets his feet on the top ropes and gestures to the TKO section before leaping high into the air, flipping backwards to crash into Johnny with his patented Air TORU moonsault…






… But the Barracuda pulls his knees up at the last second, jamming them into TORU’s midsection as he comes down!



“He caught him!” crows King. “Johnny caught him coming down!”


“TORU Takahara spending a little too much time posing up on the top rope,” agrees Pete. Johnny slowly gets to his feet and hits TORU with two consecutive martial arts kicks to the midsection, before trapping him in a standing headscissors and wrapping his arms around TORU’s waist, lifting him up…






… And jamming his head into the canvas with a Piledriver!


“Alright!” exclaims King. “Half of the Finals are about to be set right now!”


“No kidding,” concedes LDP. “Johnny just needs to turn the other way if he wants to win!” Unfortunately for the Barracuda, however, he is simply in too much pain for the pinfall to be his immediate concern.


“Wow,” King wonders aloud, “what happened to Johnny?”


“He’s still in pain, King,” replies Pete, noting the grimace on Johnny’s face as he clutches his back. “TORU put him through the wringer a minute ago!”


“Johnny Dangerous in tremendous pain,” echoes King, as Johnny crawls over towards TORU. “If he had covered him a few seconds ago, this match would definitely be over; hell, it might still be over right now!” The Barracuda collapses atop Takahara, and Herrington drops down to deliver the count:
















“Kickout!” exclaims Pete. “TORU got the shoulder up!”


“Yeah,” replies King, “but that wasn’t the authority kickout that we witnessed a couple of minutes ago; Johnny’s starting to chip away at TORU!” Johnny beats TORU to his feet and stuns him with a Shotei to the chest, before maneuvering behind him. The Barracuda applies a Full-Nelson to Takahara, and then shifts slightly to the side before suddenly snapping forward, driving TORU’s unprotected face into the canvas with his patented Full-Nelson facebuster!


“Dangerous Driver applied to TORU,” reports LDP, “oh, but look at this! Johnny Dangerous wanted to vogue, he wanted to pose for the crowd, but his back wouldn’t let him do it!” Johnny clutches his back in pain as the fans laugh at him mercilessly.


“And that’s a shame,” says King. “You know that these people came out tonight to see Johnny strike a pose. Especially the ladies: can you imagine all of the broken hearts when he couldn’t show off that physique?” Johnny pulls TORU to his feet and whips him into the ropes, knocking him back down as he rebounds with a clothesline.


“TORU Takahara’s been pretty well tenderized by that Piledriver!” notes King. “I mean, when was the last time you saw a guy Johnny’s size knock him down with a single clothesline?” Johnny applies a lateral press…


















… But TORU kicks out at two! Johnny complains to the referee as he gets to his feet.


“Look at that,” mentions King. “Once again, no powerful kickout!”


“That Piledriver obviously took a lot out of the Japanese Hammer,” agrees Pete. “But I wouldn’t count TORU out yet!” Johnny traps Takahara in a rear waistlock and delivers a weak German suplex. Herrington drops down to count:
















TORU just barely gets the shoulder up!


“You can see that TORU’s strength is leaving him with every subsequent kickout,” notes Pete. “He’d going to have to come up with something in a hurry, or this match is history!” Johnny rolls TORU onto his stomach, and then grapevines his arm as he reaches across Takahara’s body and cinches in a crossface hold!


“The Interrogator!” exclaims King. “Not only is Johnny going to pick up the win here tonight, but he’s going to get a confession out of TORU Takahara!”


“Confession?” asks a confused Pete. “Confession of what?”


“Who knows?” replies King, “But, when it comes to two devious individuals like Chris Card and TORU Takahara, you know that they have to be up to something!” Takahara begins to drag himself over towards the edge of the ring, despite Johnny’s best efforts to resist.


“Look at the tremendous resolve on the part of TORU!” praises Pete. TORU looks up and sees the bottom rope less than a foot from his grasp…



Six inches…



Three inches…



Two inches…






“He did it!” sighs Pete. “He made it to the ropes!”


“Yeah,” replies King, “but that Interrogator undoubtedly took a lot out of him; he may not have enough left in the tank to finish this match!” As Red Herrington is checking on TORU, Johnny gets to his feet and walks over to a nearby corner, where he unties and removes the top turnbuckle pad.


“Oh no!” cries Pete. “Johnny just took off the turnbuckle pad; he’s trying to gain an unfair advantage!” Just as the referee is beginning to turn his attention back towards Johnny, the Barracuda flicks the turnbuckle pad out of the ring, where it smacks the surprised Card in the chest, and falls to the floor at his feet. As Card recovers from the momentary shock of having something thrown at him, Johnny calls the referee’s attention to the bare turnbuckle, and then points to the pad lying at Card’s feet.


“What a brilliant ruse on the part of Johnny Dangerous,” praises King, as Johnny pulls TORU to his feet. “He’s got the referee distracted, which now gives him the opportunity to do some serious damage!” Johnny leads TORU across the ring to the corner opposing the exposed one, and attempts to bash his head into the top turnbuckle, but the Japanese Hammer blocks it by grabbing onto the top ropes with both hands, and then elbows Johnny in the ribs before grabbing him by the back of the head and bashing him into the top turnbuckle instead!




“Tremendous turn of events by TORU!” exclaims Pete. “Johnny just got what he had coming to him!” TORU grabs Johnny by the head again and bashes his head into the turnbuckle pad some more, this time with the crowd counting along with him:


















TORU then pulls Johnny out of the corner and points towards the opposite corner. The fans cheer wildly as he grabs Johnny by the back of the head and leads him across the ring to bash his head into the exposed turnbuckle, but the Barracuda squirms out of his grasp and shoves Takahara into the corner instead, causing TORU to slam chest-first into the exposed turnbuckle! Referee Red Herrington sees none of this, however, for he only turns around in time to see TORU staggering backwards, and Johnny swooping in to pull him into a school-boy cradle!








Johnny places his feet up on the middle ropes for added leverage…










“Oh no!” shrieks LDP. “Johnny’s got his feet on the ropes! He’s going to steal this one!”










NO! Herrington notices Johnny’s feet on the ropes at the last second, and refuses to count the pin.



“Boy, was that close!” sighs Pete. “Johnny almost got away with that!” Somewhat frustrated, Johnny pulls TORU to his feet, but the Japanese Hammer fights back, busting him in the stomach with a ferocious rising punch! TORU gets back to his feet, only for Johnny to kill his momentum by stunning him with an eye rake! The Barracuda scrambles to a nearby corner and quickly climbs to the outside while Takahara attempts to clear his vision. Johnny leaps off the top rope before TORU can react and nails him between the eyes with a flying double-axe handle smash, but the Nipponese Hammer remains on his feet.


“Boy, TORU is double-tough!” shouts Pete. “Even after a flying double-axe handle from the top, he didn’t go down!” Johnny races towards the edge of the ring and gains momentum as he bounces off the ropes, rocketing through the air and finally knocking TORU down with a flying back elbow!


“I love the use of the back elbow!” cheers King. “It’s almost like he’s thumbing his nose at his former partner!” Johnny applies a lateral press on TORU:

















No! The quick-thinking Chris Card reaches into the ring to grab TORU’s leg, and places it on the bottom rope, just a fraction of a second before the referee notices.


“This is interesting,” says King. “It’s almost like this match is coming down to a contest to see who can cheat the best!” Johnny gets to his feet and yells at Card from outside the ring, as TORU rises to his feet behind him. Johnny sees him out of the corner of his eye, though, and jams two hard kicks to his midsection, but the Japanese Hammer stuns him by returning the earlier eye rake. TORU lifts Johnny up over his head in a press slam, but the Barracuda slips behind him. Johnny traps him in a rear waistlock and pushes him towards the ropes, but Takahara lowers his head as he approaches the edge of the ring and lunges between the ropes, clotheslining Johnny on the top rope!


“What a heads up move on the part of TORU Takahara!” praises Pete, as TORU steps out onto the apron.


“Positively!” agrees King, as Takahara climbs up to the top turnbuckle. “TORU went through the ropes, and Johnny’s momentum carried his neck right into that top strand!”


“And look at this!” exclaims LDP, as TORU poses for the TKO Section, despite the very vocal objections of Chris Card. “This is where he’s the most effective!” TORU dives off the top rope to level Johnny with a flying lariat…






… But the Barracuda catches him on the way down with a Johnny Kick right to the face!


“Holy mackerel!” cries Pete. “What a shot!” Johnny points to his head knowingly, with a sinister smile on his face.


“You can see that Johnny’s pleased with himself,” notes King. “He let TORU Takahara think that he was in control, and then lured him right into that Johnny Kick!”


“And now, he’s giving the sign for the MI Slam!” moans Pete. “If he hits this, he’ll be in the finals of the CFC!” Johnny pulls TORU to his feet and lifts him up to prepare for the MI Slam…







… When suddenly, Wildchild races down to ringside and leaps onto the ring apron to distract him! Chris Card, immediately sensing that this new development could somehow work to his man’s advantage, diverts the referee’s attention as WC has it out with his former partner.


“Where does he get off coming down to the ring?” demands King. “Wildchild has no business here!” Johnny drops TORU from his shoulders and walks over to the edge of the ring to confront his nemesis.


“Boy, the tension between those two is palpable!” shrieks LDP. “It’s hard to believe that they were once the best of friends!” Johnny taunts WC from inside the ring, and finally slaps him in the face!




Not to be outdone, Wildchild responds by spitting in Johnny’s face!






“Whoa!” exclaims Pete. “Wildchild just spit in Johnny’s face! And look at the rage in Johnny’s eyes!” Johnny lunges wildly at the edge of the ring to get at Wildchild, but the Bahama Bomber deftly grabs him by the back of the head as he falls to the arena floor, clotheslining Johnny on the top rope! Johnny stumbles back towards the center of the ring towards the waiting Takahara, who stuns him with a kick to the midsection before trapping him in a double-underhook, and then lifting him into the air…






… Before planting the Barracuda with a Tiger Driver! Card stops distracting the referee, who turns back to the action just in time to see TORU covering Johnny Dangerous, and he delivers the count:





















“Teethgrinder” begins to play again and the crowd cheers as the referee raises TORU’s hand in victory. From the ringside area, Funyon rises from his seat and lifts the microphone to his lips as he makes the official proclamation:


“Here is your winner,” says Funyon, “and advancing to the Finals of the Cold Front Classic… TORU Takahara!”


“What a big win for TORU Takahara!” praises Pete. “He now gets to advance to the Finals of the tournament against the winner of the next match, and will get the opportunity of a lifetime!”


“Well, if he ends up winning the tournament, he needs to pay to Wildchild!” growls King. “Wildchild’s the one who won him that match!”

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lowly, Johnny pushes himself up off the mat – his blood boiling over like an unwatched pot of water. He’d just been screwed out of his one chance to regain a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. His shot at the only belt deemed worthy enough to strap itself around the Barracuda’s waistline…and the Wildchild just made sure it wouldn’t make it to his waist again.


“Can you believe what we’ve just seen, Pete!” shouts King, appalled by what he’d just seen. “Wildchild robbed Johnny Dangerous of his place in the Cold Front Classic finals…”


“And rightfully so!” Pete shouts in response


“DOMINIC!” Johnny shouts as he tries to catch his breath. Slowly, from the middle of the ramp, Wildchild turns around as he hears his name called.


“DOMINIC!” Johnny bellows a second time, still panting from the match. Johnny pulls himself all the way to his feet with some help from the ring ropes, and uses it to steady himself. Briefly, the Barracuda just stares hatefully at his former partner with his teeth clenched. He walks across the ring to where Funyon is sitting, and demands the microphone. Once he’s finally caught his breath enough to say what he wants to say he continues…


“I think it’s obvious, Dominic, that you can’t seem to just stay out of my way! Damn it, I’ve warned you – boy, have I warned you – but you constantly find yourself face-to-face with me every show, and this…THIS…is the straw that *broke* the camel’s back, my friend! I think it’s obvious, Dominic, that this place isn’t *big* enough for the two of us! That’s right…it isn’t! There isn’t enough room in the SWF to contain both Wildchild…*and* Johnny Dangerous!”


“Tell me he isn’t about to propose what I think he is, MacDougal! Tell me he isn’t willing to risk it all against Wildchild!”


“I think that may be exactly where he’s going with this,” Pete replies in disbelief over what he feels is coming. The crowd, however, is a buzz with the direction.


“Dominic,” continues Johnny, “you’ve already challenged me for a match at the Christmas pay-per-view and I gladly accepted your feeble request, daunting as it may not be. You know, I was willing to be the bigger man, Dominic; I was just going to give you the beating that you deserve, and let bygones be bygones… and then go on to win the Cold Front Classic. But you just *HAD* to make sure you had me all to yourself, didn’t you!?




“Well, you’ve got me, and you’ve got my full, undivided attention…but I think this needs something more! Simply beating you wouldn’t do anything – you’d just be back for more at the first show of the year. What we need here is something greater than any satisfaction of a win over you. We need something greater than any Championship belt on the line. What I want…IS YOUR F(BLEEP)ING CAREER!!”




“This needs to be *YOUR* final match… and, just to make it fair, I’ll put my career against yours! This needs to be a LOSER…LEAVES… THE FED match!”




“Unbelievable! There’s no way Wildchild goes for this! He wouldn’t possibly risk it all just to step in the ring with Johnny Dangerous!” Pete vehemently says. “What makes the Barracuda think that he’s worth putting your career on the line for?”


Johnny stares angrily at Wildchild from ringside, waiting for a response. Finally, the Bahaman begins to head back towards the ring but Melissa runs down the ramp and grabs him by the arm, begging Dominic not to agree to such terms or even go so far as to step back into the ring with such an irate man. She’d already seen the countless beatings that Johnny had previously laid on the Wildchild, and another one was the last thing she wanted to see.


Knowing her fears, Wildchild tries his hardest to assure her that he was doing what he had to do…and she knows it. She lets him go, allowing him to head towards the ring, and instantly bringing a smile to Johnny’s sick, deranged face. Wildchild slides in, watchful of his former partners position as he strolls past the Barracuda and reaches for a microphone.


“Johnny,” Wildchild begins, turning to face the shell of a man that he used to call friend. “You want me t’ put my career against yours in a match wit de loser forever leaving de SWF?!”


“You’re damned right I do!” snarls Johnny, flashing his teeth at Wildchild, and for now that’s about as nasty as this confrontation will get, and the Wildchild knows it. He knows the Barracuda like the back of his hand and knows that for once Johnny is more concerned with getting Wildchild to agree to his terms than beating than trying to fight.


“Well… t’answer your question… you’re damned right I’ll put my career on de line against yours!”




“NO!” Pete shrills. “For heavens sake, Wildchild, he isn’t worth it! Don’t risk everything you have!”


“WAIT A MINUTE!” a voice calls out from somewhere over the PA system.


“What was that?” King asks. Pete just shrugs.


After a few seconds some rustling comes from the stage curtains and then a man steps out from behind them. Joseph Peters.


“It’s Joseph Peters. Finally, someone is going to put a stop to this madness of a stipulation by these two,” says Pete, sighing in relief.


“Now what you two are planning is something that I don’t really like to see happen,” says Peters. “I hate to have someone’s career put on the line during a match. A title is one thing but to stake a career is another,” Peters’ says. “Therefore, I am forced to put my foot down on this. I can not risk the possibility of somebody losing their job in a ‘screw job’ or cheating to gain the pinfall as I would suspect at least one person involved with the match to do so. No man should be screwed out of their job but I can’t stop the two of you from gambling your careers on the match. What I can do, however, is decide that no pinfall or submission shall decide this match. In fact, the only way for either man to be forced out of the SWF is for one of you to resign willingly.”


“That’s right,” Peters’ continues, reassuring his last point. “At the Christmas pay-per-view we will see Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild—Wild versus Dangerous—in a Loser Leaves the Fed match, but the only way anyone leaves is for you to utter two words:


“I Quit.”






Wildchild and Johnny both stare at each other heatedly. Neither man has ever fought in such a match, but the one thing they both know is that the other man will never, ever say… “I Quit.”




As We:


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The Savvis Center is alive and rockin’ as we come back from commercial, and that main event feeling in the air makes everything all the more electric. It gets even louder when the Smarktron rumbles out of its hibernation, springing to life and flashing up the images of two familiar individuals, both to each other and to the Missouri fans.


On one side, there stands a veteran. Black hoodie, yellow shorts, the slightest tuft of dirty blonde hair, a scowl, and a look of weariness are the defining features of this figure, and he crosses his forearms up under his chin as he stares out at the crowd.









On one side, there stands a rookie. Red and white track jacket, red and white shorts, long black hair that, slicked back, comes down to his shoulders, a glare, and the SWF Cruiserweight Championship are the defining figues, and he displays the back of his fist for all to see, clutching the title close with his other arm.
















“It is main event time, ladies and gentlemen, and what a main event this looks to be,” beams Longdogger Pete, looking straight at the camera that has panned over to him and his partner, the Suicide King. “There is so much at stake here, so much on the line, that a defeat for either man could do catastrophic damage to their ego.”



“Surprisingly, I agree. But this is especially true for Spike Jenkins,” begins King, taking a breath before launching into one of his long-winded analyses. “He has a chance to become the first-ever 3-time SWF Cruiserweight Champion. He has a chance to advance further in the tournament that, if he wins, will give him another shot at El Luchadore Magnifico-“



“Or Todd Cortez,” interrupts Pete.



“Yes, Pete. Todd Cortez stands a chance.” King rolls his eyes, and begins again. “Another shot at El Luchadore Magnifico, and perhaps most importantly – if Johnson wins this match, it’s 8 days to the PPV, correct?”



“Correct,” responds the Miami Menace.



“This is the last show before the PPV, yes?” inquires King again.



“Again, correct,” says Pete, slightly suspicious this time. “Where are you going with this?”



“Where I’m going with this is that if Spike Jenkins loses this match, he not only loses a shot at a record, but he loses the record he has.”



Pete’s eyes go wide. “I never noticed that, but you’re right, King. Johnson is four days away from tying Spike’s record, five away from breaking it. This is the last chance for someone to derail him, and who better than the record holder himself?”



“Scott Pretzler.”



“He’s injured, shut up.”



As they bicker, the Smarktron changes from the match preview to pure white, and every light in the arena goes to full power. And it stays that way for a moment, as the slightest sound of needle-on-record is heard, skritching throughout the Savvis Center sound system until…









Lamb of God’s “Black Label” explodes out of the speakers, the crashing guitars rolling like a tidal wave over the capacity crowd. The drumming picks up, causing the crowd to get even louder, and even drown the song out slightly, but few forces on Earth can drown out…







…the high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe that assaults the folks in the stands, followed closely by a man in a black hoodie. Said man strides to the center of the sound stage and drops to one knee, letting his hand hang uselessly by his side as he stares at the steel ramp in front of his face. Then, with a flourish, the man known as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins whips his head back and crosses his arms in front of his chest, showing off his straight-edge lifestyle before making his way down the ramp.



“Yeah, you go Spike. Woo. Straight-edge army marches on,” says King, without the slightest hint of enthusiasm in his voice. “You know, Pete, penguins are also straight-edge.”



The Longdogger arches an eyebrow, but knows better than to question the Gambling Man as Spike makes his way around the ring, his head still down before he rolls into the ring, all the way to the center. From there, it’s back up to one knee, and back to letting his arm droop before whipping his head back again, this time removing his hoodie, and stepping up to the second rope, where he flaunts his straight-edgedness once more, the crowds responding with cheers…





…until the lights drop out.




“FINALLY,” says King. “I swear, Jenkins’ entrance takes half an ho-“






And then, like two beacons in the night, a pair of lights blast into life, red and white, before receding back into darkness. The Smarktron springs to life as it always does, showing various Johnson highlights; dumping Scott Pretzler on his head with a Dragon Suplex, spiraling down to the canvas with an Air Canada on El Luchadore Magnifico – at this, Jenkins scowls – and wrapping Zyon spine-first around the ringpost with an Exploder –another scowl – before all of this video is interrupted…







…by the throaty growl of Burton C. Bell, cascading over the now-jeering crowd as a grand cloud of smoke gathers around the entranceway, its surface broken only by the form of JJ Johnson, taking long strides through the fog as he bursts into the air…






…and into the wave of hate that has become commonplace to him. He makes his way down the ramp far quicker than the Hollywood Superstar did, never taking his eyes off of Jenkins as he reaches the steps and jogs up.


“Argh, what is it with wrestlers these days and their entrance music. Is it some sort of competition? ‘My theme’s singing is more indecipherable than your theme’s singing’, is that it?” asks King, obviously a tad aggravated by the abrasive guitars that make up both “Black Label” and “Scapegoat.”


A step through the ropes later, Johnson’s at the second rope, his arms swung wide as he glares out over the people. He hops down and sits back in the corner, Spike mirroring him, and Funyon slides into the ring to perform the duty he’s been performing for quite a while.



“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and doubles as both a Cold Front Classic semi-final match, and a match for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship!”






“Introducing first, on my right, the challenger, in the yellow shorts with the black trim. He stands six feet, one inch tall, and weighs in tonight at 220 pounds. From Hollywood, California, he is the number eight seed in the Cold Front Classic...THIS! Is HOLLYWOOD! SPIKE! JEEEEEEENNNNKIIIINNNSSS!!!”






Jenkins crosses his arms once more upon hearing his name, again showing off his straight-edge lifestyle as the Missouri crowd starts to get loud. The New Straight-Edge Sensation looks straight across the ring at Johnson. Johnson, for his part, looks completely unimpressed.



“And his opponent, on my left, the champion, in the red trunks with the white trim. He also stands six feet, once inch tall, and weighs in tonight at 219 pounds. From Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he is the number one seed in the Cold Front Classic, and the 116-DAY REIGNING and DEFENDING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION...J! J! JOHNSON!”


Johnson whips his jacket off, holding his fist up as is the norm before shrugging his belt off of his shoulder and handing it to referee Blaine Kalem. Kalem shows it to Jenkins, who reaches out and touches it before nodding. Kalem nods back, then lifts the belt and displays it to all sides of the ring before tossing it to timekeeper David Blazenwing, who rings the bell.






Johnson and Spike almost immediately begin to circle, keeping a fair amount of distance between them as they keep their eyes locked. Johnson roundhouse kicks the air, trying to get his blood pumping as he spins with the kick, an ominous hiss resulting as his foot slices through the nothingness. Spike mimics him, showing that he too has a martial arts background, but to say that Spike’s form doesn’t quite match Johnson’s is similar to saying that the San Francisco 49ers’ offense doesn’t quite match the Colts’. Finally, the two lock up, both men jockeying in the collar-and-elbow for a moment until Johnson manages to squeeze himself under Spike’s right arm, taking it in an armwringer.



“Now would be a good time to point out that this match is NOT being contested under the cruiserweight addenda, King,” begins Pete. “If Johnson wants to throw Spike over the top rope, or vice versa, they can do it all day.”



“So Johnson can suplex Spike over the top rope?” asks the Gambling Man. “Repeatedly?”


“Yes…” says Pete, tentatively.



“Sweet!” beams the Heartbreaker as Spike rolls forward from the armwringer, relieving the pressure…but Johnson simply twists it the other way! Jenkins grimaces, but has a reversal ready as, in a burst of athleticism, he runs up the ropes and backflips off the top, landing on his feet and relieving the pressure again!









Unfortunately for Jenkins, this drills into Johnson’s head the fact that things that can be flipped or rolled out of are not effective, causing him to simply pound his foot deep into the stomach of the Hollywood Superstar. Spike doubles over, and Johnson twists the arm again before stepping over it and…







…delivering a back kick to the face of the helpless challenger! The New Straight-Edge Sensation grabs at his nose, but he only gets a small amount of time before Johnson is on the move again, twisting with the wrung arm before diving over Jenkins and stacking him on his shoulders with La Majistral!










T-But Jenkins is tougher than two kicks and a rollup, thrusting his legs and getting his shoulders off of the mat. He rolls to a seated position, but Johnson is ready, scrambling forward and draping an arm across the Californian’s chest…






…and driving him into the mat with a modified o-soto-gari! The STO knocks the wind out of Jenkins as his head bounces off of the mat, and it is the work of a moment for Johnson to slide his other arm over and pin him.







T-But it is the work of an even quicker moment for Spike to shoot his shoulder up off of the mat. Once again, the always-thinking Johnson takes action, swinging his legs over across the Hollywood Superstar’s chest, looking to pull the arm back for a juji-gatame! But Jenkins locks his hands, refusing to let the heralded judoka get him in arguably the most painful hold in judo.



“Spike knows that the juji-gatame is trouble, and it’s a simple reflex to lock his hands. His mind sends out a heads-up signal, and his body reacts instantaneously,” the Longdogger says, analyzing the mindset of the challenger.



“Yes, but he also knows that he can only hold on for so long – that grip loosening means the match is over,” responds the Heartbreaker, seeing full well that Spike’s white-knuckle grip is beginning to shake with strain.



Fortunately, the reflexes Pete spoke of are in full gear, and with a little effort, Spike rolls his legs up and uses his foot to pry Johnson’s legs apart! The Canadian is caught off guard, and Spike uses that same leg for more nefarious means, shooting his leg between the Canadian’s arms as he brings his other around and locks on a triangle choke!







“And now the triangle choke from Jenkins! Johnson is in a very precarious position – he’s in a lethal hold, and he’s sitting down, meaning he’s got very little maneuverability,” notes Pete as the crowd rises to their collective feet. “Not to mention they’re right in the middle of the ring.”



But Pete speaks too soon, as the “snake leg between limbs” method that worked so well for the Hollywood Superstar is equally effective for the Ultimate Fighter, shoving his legs between Spike’s and forcibly removing the leg to his left from around his neck. With his free arm, he latches on to the leg, and it is mere milliseconds before the Canadian’s other leg automatically follows suit, latching on a hiza-juji-gatame!



“And now the match is over, Pete! Hiza-juji-gatame, cross kneebreaker, applied in the middle of the ring!” shouts King, getting very excited as the crowd plops back into their collective chairs.



Spike’s eyes bulge with pain and surprise, but the part of his brain dedicated to survival is still alive and well. Where resourcefulness fails, he knows, brute strength can prevail, and it’s with a great sense of urgency that Spike pushes himself up onto his hands and, a few stumbling crab-steps later, latches onto the ropes!






Referee Blaine Kalem starts his count, but he doesn’t even get to one before Johnson has released the hold, performing a back roll and crouching, stalking the New Straight-Edge Sensation. Spike favors his right knee a little, then sits up.






And gets knocked right back down, Johnson leaping into the air and seemingly defying gravity before thrusting his legs out, smashing the jaw of Jenkins with a hesitation dropkick! Hollywood’s head snaps back, and the Californian is quick to roll to the floor, rubbing his wounded jaw as he gazes out over the crowd.




The worried crowd.




Jenkins immediately knows something is up, and turns back to the ring just in time to see Johnson ducking his head as he sprints towards the ropes, a sure sign of the Canadian’s favorite dive! Not in the mood for elbow suicidas, Jenkins drops to the floor!




“Ha! Jenkins, you idiot!” shouts King.



And looks really stupid, as Johnson continues ducking, planting his hands into the ground and continuing his momentum into the ropes with a handspring, bouncing back and performing a standing backflip! This puts him in a position to gain enough momentum for his suicida, so he sprints forward and this time actually dives, sailing through the air on his way to the skull of the Hollywood Superstar!












But Jenkins ducks, and the laws of momentum conspire against Johnson as he overshoots his target and sails headfirst into the thankfully abandoned second row! The Savvis Center erupts as the champion crashes and burns, and Jenkins stands up to find himself in a very, very advantageous situation.



“HOLY…OH MY GOD!” cries Pete, stopping himself despite Storm having no family friendly rules. “Johnson tries for that suicida, that diving elbow strike that he uses so much, and it costs him DEARLY. Back during that exchange of judo holds, I wasn’t sure who had the advantage, but now it’s spelled out plainly for everyone here – Spike Jenkins is in full control of the champion.”



“Pish tosh, Drain-Clogger,” gloats King, looking far less confident than his words would lead you to believe. “JJ Johnson is the number one seed in the Cold Front Classic! JJ Johnson is two wins away from being both the number-one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship, and one win from being the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time! And on top of all of that, Spike sucks!”









Johnson sailed head-first into a chair during his dive, that fact coming apparent as his forehead begins to leak blood, a nasty cut forming where his skull bounced off of the upright chair. Jenkins starts to climb over the railing, but decides against it, instead choosing to favor his jaw before going after the notorious elbow-thrower. Despite the fact that unconscious is no condition to throw elbows in.



“Spike doesn’t suck, King, or he wouldn’t have made it this far. He wouldn’t be in a position to earn his second title shot in as many months, and he wouldn’t be receiving this title shot,” says Pete, in a serious tone.


“Pete, he asked for this title shot, and Johnson was kind enough to grant it to him. If not for the goodness of Johnson’s heart, this would be just another match."








NOW Jenkins climbs over the railing, latching a firm hold onto Johnson’s head before pulling him up and, with a bit of effort, dumping him over the railing. The champion still slumps uselessly as the fans begin to file back into their recently abandoned seats, but that’s Spike’s preferred situation, so he pays it no mind as he lifts the Canadian and dumps him on the apron before rolling him into the ring. Spike follows suit, and quickly drapes himself across the shoulders of the number one seed.














It takes a considerable amount of effort, but Johnson rockets a shoulder off of the mat, saving both his own title and his aspirations for another. Spike wastes no time, hopping to his feet before sprinting to the ropes and rebounding, coming back and taking flight with a knee drop to Johnson’s slowly-becoming-quite-bloody forehead!








But the trick with knee drops is to connect with them, a trick that Spike doesn’t utilize as Johnson manages to roll out of the path of the punishing patella. Thanks to the magic of pads, Spike’s leg takes minimal damage from the miss, but the jolt is enough to freeze him, if only for a moment. And a moment is all Johnson needs to get to his feet, performing a forward roll to a standing position. Jenkins has more than one trip up his sleeve, though, and he leaps from his knees to his feet before diving backwards with a dropkick to Johnson’s kneecap! The Canadian falls to one knee, and it is the work of a moment for the Hollywood Superstar to run and put his foot into Johnson’s hip before swinging his leg around for his Dangerous Wizard!






The force of the shining enzuigiri sends blood sailing off of the champion’s forehead, and his eyes go out of focus as he slumps onto his side. The New Straight-Edge Sensation recovers quickly, scrambling over and hooking the leg quite forcefully for the pin.



“Dangerous Wizard!” cries Pete as Kalem slides into position. “Spike could take it here!”











THREE-NO! Johnson recovers just in the nick of time!


“Not a chance, Schlong-longsfor Pete,” quips the Gambling Man, after waiting to make sure that there indeed wasn’t a chance. “An enzuigiri by any other name is still just an enzuigiri, and I can’t remember the last time anyone was put down by an enzuigiri.”


“Yeah, well I can’t remember the last time anyone dove from the ring into the second row, and we saw that tonight,” mutters Pete as Spike sighs before dragging Johnson to his feet. He delivers a quick forearm shot to further daze the Canadian, then dashes to the ropes, swinging his arm out...






...and removing Johnson’s head with a lariat! Blood once again flies, and Johnson goes down hard, Spike being fortunate enough to land on top of him as the force of his swing causes him to lose his balance.












THR-But Johnson seems to be recovering from his self-induced blunt force trauma, as he gets his shoulder up quicker than from the Dangerous Wizard! Jenkins is quite tired of getting up and running around only for his efforts to be for naught, and rightfully so, so he decides to pull a page out of Johnson’s book, grabbing the nearest arm and starting to wrap his legs around it for a juji-gatame!




Johnson’s entirely too awake for that, however, and too close to the ropes as well, and a bit of maneuvering (read: flopping around like a dying fish) is enough to get him in range to drape his leg over the salvation that is the red cords strung tightly around the ring.






Spike immediately stops trying to break the champion’s arm, and instead mirrors the Canadian’s earlier actions by rolling backwards and to his feet, stalking Johnson as he gets to his feet. Which he does surprisingly quickly, considering the beating he’s taken for the last five minutes or so. This concerns Spike not, however, as he sprints in and throws a second lariat!





This time, however, Johnson is expecting it.
















Both men’s head snap back at the same time, and both men stay upright for just a moment, looking at the lights. Then it is their eyes that go upright, rolling into their head as they slump to the canvas. Kalem arches an eyebrow at first, then realizes that yes, they’re actually knocked senseless, and begins to count them both out.




“Johnson and Jenkins had a similar mindset there, King,” the Miami Menace informs/annoys the Gambling Man. “Johnson knew the lariat was coming, and lashed out with a lariat of his own!”




“First off, don’t you EVER say anything that even closely resembles ‘Johnson and Jenkins think alike’ ever, ever again,” begins King, irate that his partner could say something so very, very blasphemous. “Second, this is a pivotal point in the match that you’re ignoring. That lariat, arguably Jenkins’ premier strike, worked once. But now Johnson has it scouted, and is perfectly willing to take punishment in order to give it at this point in the match.”





But four doesn’t look on the menu for this evening, as Spike makes his way up to one knee. Johnson, blood now dripping from the wound on his skull, is not far behind, and they both manage to make their way to their feet within a few seconds of each other. The Hollywood Superstar is the first to capitalize, moving in and rocking the champion with a forearm shot before grabbing his arm and whipping him to the ropes. Johnson rebounds, and Jenkins dashes forward, lashing out with a Yakuza Kick!



That Johnson ducks! The New Straight-Edge Sensation staggers as all of the weight he put behind the kick works against him, and the Canadian rebounds hard off of the opposite ropes before dashing back and whipping his arm out with a vicious shotgun lariat!



That Jenkins ducks! However, instead of letting the champion stumble past him thanks to putting too much effort into the strike, the challenger latches on with a uranage and drops to his knees, crushing Johnson’s jaw against his shoulder...





...before rising back up to his feet and, with a quick sweep, driving the Canadian hard into the mat!









“MINOR THREAT JAWBREAKER INTO THE STO!” booms Pete as the Savvis Center rises as one, knowing full well that the match could very well be over as the New Straight-Edge Sensation moves into a more efficient covering position than the STO left him in.







TW-NO! Johnson is surprised by the combo, granted, but he’s certainly not damaged to the point of defeat by it. Knowing full well how this would likely end up, the Hollywood Superstar isn’t as disheartened as he would have been had he been expecting a win - this was more to make Johnson expend energy kicking out. And so the New Straight-Edge Sensation pulls the champion to his feet and blasts him with a shotei...






...before lifting him by the legs and dropping him throat-first across the top rope with a Hot Shot!



“Foul! Blatant throat attack! Disqualification, that’s working a wound! Jesus, Cutthroat, do your job! It’s Lockdown, he shouldn’t be doing that!” cries King as referee Blaine Kalem glares at him, then looks around to see if anyone knows - or, for that matter, cares about - his secret identity. Unsurprisingly, they don’t.


“King, this show is Storm,” says Pete flatly. The Gambling Man looks for words, but finds none as Johnson rebounds off of the ropes, stunned by the unpleasant sensation that comes with what is essentially tightened steel cables wrapping themselves around your Adam’s apple. However, he soon has other unpleasant sensations to worry about, as Jenkins waits for him to turn around before lashing out with the Last Dance!






The superkick doesn’t quite reach its target, however, as Johnson is just a little too quick to react. His palms sting from catching the kick, but otherwise the champion is unfazed as he throws the Hollywood Superstar’s boot away...



...but he’s not quite as unfazed when Spike uses the momentum to spin and destroy him with a rolling elbow!











Oh, no wait. Yes he is.





Much to the Savvis Center’s chagrin, and the Suicide King’s joy, Johnson catches that strike, too, and simply throws it down towards the earth...







...before teaching Spike how an elbow is done! Feeling the lesson hasn’t quite sunk in...









...Johnson displays the proper technique once more! Jenkins staggers, but does not fall, and so, continuing the tired teaching metaphors...







...the champion decides to offer him a little extra credit, in the form of a rolling elbow that absolutely beheads the New Straight-Edge Sensation! The figuratively headless but literally senseless Californian goes down hard, and Johnson drops down with him, making his first cover of the match!






“This is it! Johnson both advances and retains with one move!” cries King, obviously excited as the Missouri crowd holds its collective breath.






“Not bloody likely,” mutters Pete, the British couple seated behind him starting to rub off on him.



THRE-Points for Mr. MacDougal. Please pick a category.


Double Jeopardy may not be around anymore, but that doesn’t make Pete any less correct as Hollywood rockets his arm off of the mat, making it very clear to the referee that his shoulders are not still down. You have to make things very clear to Cutthroat. This doesn’t bother Johnson, though, as he is in a very advantageous position indeed, one that he proves by dragging the Hollywood Superstar to a seated position before taking the arm in a top wristlock...




...but Spike, just like Landon, is smart enough to not let Johnson lock on his Anaconda Vice, and he quickly delivers a series of open-handed chops to the lower back of the number one seed. They’re not particularly damaging, but damn do they sting, and Johnson is distracted enough for Spike to worm his way out of the hold and scramble to his feet. The Canadian mimics him, but only manages to get to his knees before Jenkins lashes out with a kick to the chest!









Johnson goes to grab for his stinging chest, but Spike is just a little faster, and traumatizes the Canadian’s perturbed pectorals with another kick!









The champion’s chest is in agony, and he’s certainly not focusing on Jenkins as the Hollywood Superstar takes a step back before rushing in, whipping his leg around for his grand finale...









...that, sadly, gets cancelled, Johnson ducking the blow as it goes hissing through the spot where his head used to be! And it gets worse, the champion pulling a Spike by leaping to his feet from his knees. Instead of a dropkick, however, Johnson wraps his arms around the challenger’s waist before briding back and dropping him on his head with a neck-compressing Dangerous German!


“DANGEROUS GERMAAAAAAAANNN!!!!” screams the Heartbreaker as Spike skids a short distance along the canvas before his momentum carries him up over and onto his stomach, where he lays in a rather useless heap. Johnson sits up, then remembers what’s at stake and scrambles over, rolling the motionless sack of bones formerly known as Spike Jenkins onto his back and covering.



“THIS IS IT! JOHNSON’S GOING TO THE FINALS! LONGEST CRUISER CHAMP EVER!” shouts the Heartbreaker, elated that the despicable Spike Jenkins is going to be out of the tournament - and more importantly, out of the record books.

































“Oh, that is BULLSHIT.”








But, much to Brian Applewhite’s dismay, it is not bullshit. Spike Jenkins did indeed kick out of the Dangerous German, and the match does indeed continue. Johnson is equally surprised, but he’s not quite as enraged as the Heartbreaker, and he rolls to his feet before grabbing his surprisingly tough opponent and dragging him up to his feet. Hollywood is woozy, and Johnson hooks him in a front facelock before draping an arm over his head and lifting him up for a brainbuster...





...but Spike apparently has more fight in him than both King and Johnson expected, turning in midair and floating over into a rear facelock! The Ultimate Fighter is caught off-guard, and it takes Spike only a moment to twist under him, swinging around and dropping down into the Clean Living!!









“Dammit!” swears King as Johnson’s face ricochets off of the steel and plywood that makes up the SWF ring. “I don’t like Spike, but I have to admit that that Roll the Joint is pretty damned effective.”


“It’s the Clean Living now, King. Spike is straight-edge, remember?” the Miami Menace reminds the Heartbreaker.


“Yeah, okay. See those bags under his eyes? He’s about as straight-edge as he is talented,” scoffs King.



Then Spike covers the champion, King blanches, and the Savvis Center crowd gets ready to explode.

























The St. Louis crowd explodes, overjoyed at Johnson finally being defeated, finally losing the title he’s had a stranglehold on for the last four months. Jenkins rolls off of the Canadian’s beaten form, both exhausted and overjoyed that his record still stands, that he gets the chance to earn another shot at Magnifico. Kalem jumps to his feet, signalling for timekeeper David Blazenwing to ring the bell.











But something stops him. Something’s not right with the picture he’s looking at, the picture of Jenkins laying on his back, his arm still slightly draped over Johnson, who looks completely out of it. Kalem almost pities him, laying there with his World Title hopes crushed, his chance at an SWF record derailed, and his foot on the bottom rope.








... his foot on the bottom rope. Immediately realizing his mistake, Kalem does something that he has to do, regardless of whether or not his safety is ensured once he leaves the arena.



He raises his arms over his head in what is ironically a peace sign, and shouts “TWO!”






Jenkins sits bolt upright, and his head slowly swivels around, as if he were not Spike Jenkins of Hollywood, California, but rather Regan MacNeil of Georgetown, Washington D.C.. Kalem half-braces himself for projectile vomiting, but thankfully, the head-swiveling is the only similarity the unfortunate fourth seed in the Cold Front Classic shares with the unfortunate possessed girl in The Exorcist.



“YEESSS!!!!” shrieks King, like a little girl, as Johnson slowly begins to recover from his neck-wrenching fun, shaking his head in an attempt to get the fog out of it. Jenkins, on the other hand, adds to the 22,000 Savvis Center fans that are raining their ire on the seemingly incompetent referee, getting into the face of the former SJL jobber. Finally, the Hollywood Superstar realizes that he can’t take his eyes off of Johnson for long, and so turns back to his fallen rival, bending over to grab the champion by the hair.






But Johnson, fully conscious and damn sick of being picked up by his hair, lashes out with a kick that catches Jenkins right in the temple! The Californian staggers...



[“See! I told you he wasn’t straight-edge!” shouts King. “He’s drunk, look at him!”


“Will you stop?!” blurts Longdogger ‘Gorilla Monsoon’ Pete.]



...and Johnson pulls himself up on the ropes before backing into them and bouncing off with a Dynamic Kick!





That Spike manages to avoid, half-running half-stumbling out of the path of the jumping high kick! Johnson stumbles, regaining his footing after his brief flight, and turns on his heels faster than a Third Reich soldier...










....and gets his feet taken out from under him with a soccer tackle! Johnson doesn’t go down, but he’s certainly in no position to maneuver without falling over, and Spike hops up from his brief slide before spinning Johnson around and taking him in another uranage! Johnson knows what is coming, but he’s powerless to stop it, and the Hollywood Superstar drops to his knees again...







...before hopping back up to his feet. However, instead of going for the STO, he places his hand on the stunned Canadian’s lower back before looking out at the crowd. Who, despite it being an ungodly amount of time since the last one, know exactly what is coming.






“Is...he couldn’t...he is! Spike is looking for the Highlighter!” screams Pete as, yet another time, the crowd begins to rise to his feet. King, who for his part has gone a very long time without covering his eyes, covers his eyes.




Spike lifts...





...Johnson spins...




...and lands right behind a shocked Spike Jenkins! Johnson wastes no time reaching around and latching on a rear waistlock.




And the next thing the Hollywood Superstar knows, he’s airborne, flying backwards and starting to flip. Despite him being in big trouble, the fall is completely painless as he gets a good look at the lights of the Savvis Center one more time.




But it’s not the fall that gets you.










It’s the landing you’ve gotta watch.



“DDDDDDAAAAANNNGGERRRROOUUUSSS GERRMMAAAAAAAAANNNN!!!!!!” booms King, his voice completely audible in the deathly silent that fills the arena. Spike, just like last time, skids a little before rolling and coming to a halt on his stomach. As Johnson rolls him over, something becomes apparent.






There’s a major difference between this German and the last one.









It’s an obvious difference, too.









He ain’t kicking out of this one.







“Scapegoat” kicks up over the sound system as Johnson rolls off of Spike, his smile never brighter as he sits up. His sick smile, combined with the copious amounts of blood rolling down his face, forms a haunting image that may very well stick in the minds of all who have the misfortune to see it. Kalem hands him his title, and the smile gets even brighter still.



“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” begins Pete, in a somber tone, “I suppose there’s a bit of irony in this. Spike Jenkins’ first Cruiserweight Title reign, the one before his record-breaker, began when Spike delivered a German suplex to St. Louis’ own Austin Sly. Now, here in St. Louis, a German suplex has guaranteed a record-breaking run from JJ Johnson. It’s not official, ladies and gentlemen, but you can take it to the bank.”


“Damn straight!” shouts King, far more excited than the Miami Menace is. “And not only that, but Johnson is going to the Christmas PPV, and he’s going to fight for the chance to be World Champion! I love it!”



Nobody else in the arena loves it. Then again, nobody can remember the last time Johnson cared what the fans thought, backing down the ramp with his title raised high, his other hand raised higher. And although nobody can hear what he’s mouthing, they can see what the hand says.



So as Johnson backs up the ramp, laughing in between emptying his mouth of the blood that has run into it, the message is perfectly clear.



Number one, baby. Number one.








SWF Storm ©

December 9th, 2005

A Raynmaker Production ©


Edited by Justice

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Sorry for the lateness of the show. Didn't know I'd be posting it. Anyways, the PPV card will be up tomorrow (As I have an essay that I've been desperately trying to finish).


Thanks for understanding, and for the good show, people.

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