+~+RAMADOMINATION+~+

[the.weej 0]

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to SWF FROST!" the familiar voice of Ben Hardy can be heard as the camera fades in from blackness. "We are live from Medina, Saudi Arabia, and just minutes away from the final SWF PPV of the Calander year, Ramadomination! The crowd, for the most part, is still filing in and finding their seats..."

 

The camera suddenly cuts to the outside of the mosque. There is a massive gathering of muslims outside, a thunderous chant of "ALLAH AKBAR! ALLAH AKBAR!" sweeping through them. Machine gun fire from AK-47s can be heard. The camera returns to a nervous looking Hardy.

 

"And, um, as you can see, they're pretty fired up..."

 

"For a change, Ben," another familiar voice adds, this one belonging to SWF legend, the one and only NTD, "it's a riot that hasn't been caused by the sight of my hairy legs!"

 

"Within the next half hour, all the of the best and brightest that the SWF has to offer are going to throw down in battles of epic proportions!" says Hardy.

 

"The thought of it has me moist with anticipation!" adds NTD.

 

"But before we get started, we have a little bit of a pre-game show for you all," Ben shills, enthusiastically. "We're going to, once and for all, resolve the mystery of Blazenwing's doppleganger! And - you've heard it here first, fans - there are rumours of a MYSTERY COMEBACK, right here on Frost!"

 

"Ooohh, Ben!" NTD exclaims. "That sounds great! I think I just declared JIHAD all over my pants!"

 

There is an uncomfortable pause as Hardy turns to NTD.

 

"You... don't wear..."

 

"I know! Why do you THINK I don't wear them?"

 

Ben convulses and quickly turns away. "Urk... let's get down to ringside, shall we? FAST."

 

The picture fades out, with the mics picking up one last comment from NTD, asking Ben if he happens to have a towel handy...

[the.weej 0]

The screen glows back to life as the near rioting fans continue their war cries as Suicide King and Longdogger Pete uncomfortably shift in their seats at the announcers’ table. Suddenly a veil is flung out from the crowd and plops down in front of Suicide King who stares down in confusion.

 

“So is this the equivalent of having panties thrown at me?” King asks with a shrug as he glances back to see the enraged crowd.

 

“I’m not sure but it doesn’t matter because Ramadomination will soon be kicking off! However we have one more surprise for our loyal fans before the Pay Per View gets underway!” LDP beams.

 

“Consider this our ‘Happy Holidays’ present,” Suicide King sarcastically says and waves his hand towards the ring.

 

Unearth’s “Bloodlust of the Human Condition” begins as the fans instantly go into hisses while the lights begin to dim. The song begins to kick off as a blinding white explosion of pyrotechnics stuns the fans as Arch Griffon steps onto the entrance ramp. He stands tall at 6’4” with his red hair, hazel eyes, and white tights with matching white boots, and an ungodly physique while he focuses on the ring.

 

“First… from Des Moines, Iowa… weighing in at 302 pounds... AAARRRCCCHHHH GRRIFFFFFFOOONNN!” Funyon proclaims.

 

He cranks his neck to both sides before calmly walking down to ringside where he continues to ignore the fans and climbs up the steel steps. He pushes down the top rope and steps over it to enter the ring as he begins to roll his shoulders.

 

“Arch Griffon is focused and ready to go as he always is. He’s unaware of his opponent, which may be a huge factor, but can always resort to his brute strength to gain the upper hand,” LDP comments.

 

“Plus he has a solid wrestling background so it’s not easy to take him on when he’s on the mat,” King adds in. “Of course he also has a bad back which is always vulnerable but, really, just about everybody is flawed.”

 

LDP sighs and asks, “The exception is…?”

 

King just smiles in reply and says, “Do you really need to guess?”

 

Suddenly bagpipes begin to blare loudly as the fans go quiet.

 

“Happy Holidays,” LDP happily says.

 

“Barroom Hero” by Dropkick Murphys begins to blare as the fans erupt into awkward, scattered cheers. Green and orange pyro explodes as cheap, green shamrock confetti rains on the crowd. A spotlight scrambles to find the returning Dillon who stands among the crowd with an Irish flag in one hand and a Guinness in the other. Instead of being engulfed by the Muslim crowd he stands there with confidence as he pops the Guinness open.

 

“Who knew he’d have a following here?” LDP asks with amusement.

 

He seems to remain the same old Dillon as he hands the flag to a fan. Suddenly the fans join in and like a mob tear the flag to pieces. He stares at the mob in surprise and disappointment but shrugs as he begins to chug the Guinness with a nice little jig! He doesn’t get the usual “Oi” chant but he does his best as he finishes it off and wipes at his lips with satisfaction. He smiles with his bright, dazzling smile and begins to walk down towards the ring with his usual black Dropkick Murphys shirt, khaki cargoes with shamrocks painted down the sides, and black Emerica shoes with shamrock patches on the toes.

 

“He hasn’t changed a bit,” King says.

 

“Perhaps but his entire absence has been nothing but him training for his return. Not only is that admirable dedication but now he’s better than ever,” LDP replies.

 

“Was it really hard to become better than he was before?” King jeers.

 

“Next, returning… from Limerick, Ireland… weighing in at 219 pounds…. TTTIIIIIMMMM DDDDIILLLOOONNN!” Funyon announces.

 

“There’s a definite weight difference and their styles clash but maybe Tim Dillon has a whole new scheme up his sleeve,” LDP points out.

 

“So now he might do some drunken kick boxing instead of just boxing?” King rips on the returning Irishman.

 

Dillon gets down the barricade and hops over it as he stares up at Arch with a small smirk on his face. He rolls into the ring and stands up as he runs a hand through his fine, shaggy blonde hair.

 

“Well, King, say what you will but now Dillon’s chance to show us what he has,” LDP exclaims.

 

Matthew Kivell steps into middle of the ring as Tim Dillon and Arch Griffon approach each other. He explains a quick set of rules as Dillon stretches out a hand to Griffon who quickly shakes it.

 

“These two both have a sense of sportsmanship and probably respect for each other,” LDP says offhand.

 

Kivell glances at the two who both nod and he calls for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Tim Dillon and Arch Griffon circle in center of the ring as Tim’s fierce, green eyes meet with Griffon’s hazel. They both stop and both give a small smirk before they collide together in a grapple. But Griffon sets the tone early as he just shoves Dillon to the canvas. The Irishman rolls right back to his feet and smiles at his opponent. He comes out swinging with a huge right hook towards his opponent. But it’s caught and Arch twists his arm into a hammerlock. He applies pressure but Dillon is quick to reaction as he tries to drop down to the mat with an arm drag for a reversal. But he doesn’t have the momentum to throw his opponent over as he lands on his side while Griffon keeps a steady grip on his arm. He doesn’t have time to react as he is yanked to his feet and gets taken down by a shorted arm clothesline.

 

“Look at Dillon, he’s already getting slaughtered out there,” King says with a condescending snicker.

 

“Nonsense King, it’s not even a minute into this match up yet,” LDP says in defensive of Dillon.

 

But Griffon doesn’t show any mercy as he keeps that grasp on his arm and tugs him to his feet only to be taken down by another short armed clothesline. He lets go of Dillon’s arm and lets him roll back to his feet.

 

“He takes Tim Dillon down again and completes his ‘Griffon Grasp.’ This is a great example of where Griffon’s strength will come into play,” LDP says.

 

“Right and if Dillon’s smart he won’t be trying to out brawl Archie,” King says.

 

Arch lunges forward and grabs Dillon in a front facelock, grabbing a handful of pants, and snapping over in the snap suplex. He stands back up as Dillon rolls to his feet and charges at his opponent with his own short armed clothesline. The Irishman sends Griffon stumbling back and he leaps out with a flying clothesline that takes his opponent down. He rolls right back to his feet as he gets fired up as Griffon gets to his. He swings with another wide right hook that his opponent ducks underneath and replies by grabbing Dillon while swooped under. Griffon stands up while having Dillon lifted into the air as he sends him smacking down with a spinebuster!

 

“Okay,” King begins to ask. “Who exactly did Dillon train with? Ted Flink? Cutthroat? Jack the Ripper?”

 

Dillon grabs his back in pain as Griffon snatches his opponent up off the canvas and scoop slams him down. The Irishman rolls up to his feet and is bombarded by a clothesline by Arch that smacks him right back down. Griffon bends over and he grabs his opponent by his shaggy blonde hair to get him to his feet. He lets go and watches his opponent sway before lunging out for a vicious clothesline. But Dillon steps forward and ducks underneath it then quickly hits a dropkick to the back of his opponent’s knee. Griffon falls to one knee in response as his opponent comes lunging out from the mat. Dillon grabs the back of his opponent’s head as he takes him down with a small bulldog. He wastes no time in rolling to his feet and begins to stomp at his opponent’s back.

 

“Dillon is able to out maneuver Arch Griffon,” LDP begins to say.

 

But King interrupts, “Which isn’t a hard thing to do…”

 

Pete ignores him and continues on. “Tim took him down with that little bulldog and is now stomping on his opponent’s bad back which is prone to give out. He may focus on it but he doesn’t have the strength to pull of power moves to send Griffon smacking on his back. I think his plan will be…”

 

“Survival,” King butts in again.

 

In the ring Arch Griffon rolls onto his back and catches the foot of Dillon. He quickly shoves it backwards and sends Dillon off balance, tripping down to the mat. Both wrestlers race each other to their feet as Dillon gets up first. He snaps off a jab onto Griffon’s chin before his opponent was able to fully gain balance. He stumbles back as Tim Dillon exhibits old habits as he throws his arms up into the boxing position. He snaps off another jab followed by a left straight then a right uppercut and finally a kick to the gut. As his opponent doubles over he smacks his knee into Griffon’s face which sends him reeling back in shock. Dillon throws out his arms and then busts out into a short jig before lunging forward with a clothesline that sends Griffon down.

 

“‘The Irish Fury,’ I believe Tim’s beginning to get into his groove,” LDP says.

 

Arch Griffon gets back onto his feet and before Dillon can go on the offense he launches out a huge European Uppercut. He follows up by wrapping his arms around Dillon, tugging him in close, and then tossing him over in a Belly to Belly Overhead Suplex! The Irishman soars as he lands near the ropes and he bounces like a wrecked plane right underneath the bottom rope then he spills to the outside. He flops over to his back and gasps for breath as he tries to regain his bearings. In the ring Arch Griffon pauses before taking a step back and bouncing into the ropes.

 

“Uh-oh, here comes a big risk for Griffon. He’s going to try for that Bloodlust Plancha,” LDP predicts.

 

“Men that big really shouldn’t be trying to fly like he was Dillon’s weight,” King says.

 

Griffon charges towards the ropes and leaps into the air, over the top rope, and out to a collision course with Dillon on the outside. But the Irishman looks up to see 302 pounds airborne above him and he quickly rolls as close to the apron as possible. Griffon quickly descends as he hits nothing but cold, hard cement. The fans explode into cheers, whether for Dillon or for the carnage, and Tim pulls himself up from the apron.

 

“A rare display of agility by Griffon shattered as Dillon rolled away just in time,” LDP says. “This could be the perfect opportunity for Tim to take control.”

 

Kivell begins the count-

 

ONE! Dillon facetiously wipes his hands on his shirt as if he took the damage and he walks over to Griffon.

 

TWO! He tugs him to his feet and lays his limp body over the barricade.

 

THREE! He stirs and Dillon grabs his head and violently smacks it against the steel. The Irishman takes a few steps back before charging forward and leaping into the air, over the barricade, and hits Arch with a legdrop.

 

FOUR! Griffon groans as he just grabs his chest and plops back to the outside.

 

FIVE! Dillon struggles to pry himself away from the loathing crowd before hopping over the steel guardrail.

 

SIX! He picks up Arch Griffon and rolls him back into the ring as he slides in himself. He then lays on top of Arch and hooks the leg for the cover-

 

ONE!

 

Griffon kicks out and Dillon apathetically shrugs. He stands up and drags Griffon with him but as Arch stands up he smacks his opponent away from him.

 

“I think Tim knows he will have to do much more damage

 

Arch Griffon draws back his arm and unleashes a vicious knife edged chop. It echoes as the fans remain silent as Dillon grabs his chest.

 

LDP glances around and sighs in frustration. “WHOOO!”

 

The Irishman grunts and comes back with an even more fierce slap to Griffon’s chest.

 

“WHOOOOO!”

 

Arch sucks up the pain and this time really drags back and lets a monstrous chop fly!

 

“WHHOOOOOOO!”

 

The echo continues to ring as Tim grits his teeth and hits an equally brutal chop.

 

“WWHHHHOOOOOOO!”

 

“Do you feel like an ass?” King asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.”

 

Griffon takes a small step back and lets a vicious chop fly. It connects and its thud echoes while Dillon gasps for air. His opponent quickly grabs a hold of his arm and he Irish whips Dillon towards the opposing turnbuckle. He runs closely behind his opponent as Tim rapidly approaches the turnbuckle. The Irishman has a trick up his sleeve as he grabs hold of the two ropes near the turnbuckle and leaps up into the air, rocketing himself above Arch and lands on his feet behind him. Griffon hits chest first into the turnbuckle and stumbles back. Dillon stands beside his opponent and grabs his waist then hits a backdrop suplex.

 

“Dillon uses his speed to set himself to take down his opponent,” LDP says.

 

“That’s basic stuff,” King counters.

 

Griffon rolls backwards and gets to his feet before Dillon can. As Tim cockily turns around he sees his opponent charging like a freight train. He doesn’t have time to react as Griffon jumps out and plasters Dillon down with a flying shoulder block. He quickly gets up and he grabs Tim by the waist and barely lifts him before dropping down to one knee to hit a backbreaker. Dillon flops off of Griffon’s knee and onto his stomach as the relentless Griffon wraps his arms around him. He lifts Tim into the air as he flips him over in a Gutwrench suplex. He then scrambles to hook both legs for a cover-

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

Dillon kicks out and rolls away from Griffon. He hops to his feet as his opponent stands up. He breaks into a sprint for Arch and he leaps into the air, almost curled into a ball. He plants his feet on Arch’s chest and grabs the back of his neck as he lets gravity do the middle work. The two fall to the canvas as Tim Dillon sends his opponent flying through the air with a monkey flip.

 

“Dillon hits a monkey flip that sends the big man Griffon into the air,” LDP excitedly says.

 

Arch smacks against the canvas and rolls a bit before slowly getting to one knee. Meanwhile Dillon gets right back to his feet and is already sprinting at his opponent. He takes a short hop and smacks Arch right in the face with a dropkick! Griffon smacks against the canvas as Dillon lands in front of him. He quickly scrambles to get the mount on Arch and unleash a flurry of punches. Griffon tries to use his arms and juke his head but the Irishman’s strikes just continue to smack against him.

 

“It’s an interesting choice that Dillon choices ground-and-pound with such a disadvantage of strength,” LDP notes.

 

“It comes natural, cavemen like brawling that is,” King says.

 

Tim Dillon pauses and Griffon quickly responds with his own punch that rattles his opponent. He shoves Dillon off and both wrestlers scramble to their feet. Griffon beats Tim and sends an elbow that sends him stumbling. He then turns to his side and throws out his leg for a surprise Superkick. But his opponent barely ducks underneath it and steps towards Griffon. He snatches the thigh of his opponent and traps it underneath his armpit then clutches Arch. He then arches his back and tosses Griffon over in a Capture Suplex!

 

“A shocking display of explosive power by Dillon as he just tossed him over in a capture suplex,” LDP says with excitement.

 

Griffon slams against the mat and Dillon quickly slides over to make the cover attempt-

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

But Griffon gets a shoulder off the mat as Dillon leans back on his feet on his knees while running a hand through his hair in frustration. Arch rolls to his feet as Tim quickly stands up. They both pause and look at each other before tying into a grapple. Arch Griffon uses his strength and height advantage to force Dillon into a front facelock as he grabs another handful of khaki cargoes and takes him down with the snap suplex. He bounces right back to his feet as the Irishman sluggishly rolls up. He then steps up with a stiff clothesline that sends Tim right back down to the canvas. He bends over and grabs Tim by the neck, tugging him up to his feet. He then knees him in the gut and gets the standing headscissors.

 

“There’s a lot of ways Arch Griffon could go here and one of them includes his finisher, Arch Nemesis!” LDP exclaims.

 

He wraps his arms around Dillon’s waist and tugs him into the air. He lets Dillon’s legs dangle onto his shoulder as he sets up for the powerbomb.

 

“Powerbomb could do some damage here,” King says.

 

Tim Dillon desperately begins to hit hard rights to Arch in hopes to disrupt the powerbomb. Griffon lifts Dillon a bit higher for the slam but a punch has him stalling as he takes a step back. Then the Irishman draws back and smacks him in the face with a hard right that relaxes his opponent’s grip. Dillon wraps his legs around his opponent’s throat and reverses the powerbomb with a hurricarana.

 

“Dillon just reversed that powerbomb,” LDP says.

 

Griffon barely seems phased as he hits the mat and rolls right to his feet in sync with Dillon. He charges at the Irishman and swings his arm out for the clothesline that Dillon ducks underneath. He clutches Griffon in a waistlock and tries to go for the lift. Instead Arch bombards Tim with elbows and breaks free of the hold, moving behind his opponent and securing his own waistlock. He lifts and arches over to toss him over with a release German Suplex.

 

“He’s going for the German Suplex,” King says.

 

He lets go and hits the mat as Dillon flips his weight backwards and lands onto his feet. Arch slowly rolls to his feet only to turn around to see Dillon charging towards him. The Irishman leaps into the air and wraps an arm around Arch’s head in a front headlock and uses the momentum to spike his opponent’s head on the canvas with the Tornado DDT.

 

“Dillon’s demonstrating an even more impressive side of agility than we’re used to,” LDP says.

 

“Could it just be because he’s sober?” King sarcastically asks.

 

Tim Dillon hops to his feet as he gives a celebratory Irish jig for the crowd.

 

“Go for the pin,” King says.

 

“Dillon can’t help himself sometimes,” LDP replies.

 

He looks down at Arch Griffon who groans and stirs as he stops the jig. He points to the turnbuckle, to numerous Jihad shrieks, and he charges towards the turnbuckle. He quickly hops onto the top turnbuckle and stands up with his arms raised.

 

“Dillon’s taking a huge risk here,” LDP says.

 

He bends his knees and leaps high into the air as he bends his legs to come crashing down for the leg drop. He quickly descends down towards Griffon who begins to stir and flops to one side…

 

“He’s going for that leg drop,” LDP says.

 

“Roll, Archie, roll,” King facetiously advises.

 

Arch comes to action as he rolls away to let Dillon smack against the canvas with a loud groan.

 

“Griffon just rolled out of the way and Dillon could be in some trouble here!” LDP exclaims.

 

Griffon gets to all fours and crawls to the ropes where he uses the time to recuperate. He grabs the middle rope and gets to his feet as he shakes the cobwebs out of his head. He stalks up to Dillon and towers above him as he looks down with an emotionless face.

 

“Griffon is all about the win,” LDP says.

 

He bends down and grabs Tim by his hair and shirt then lifts him to his feet. He grabs Dillon’s left wrist and feigns throwing him into the ropes but instead spins him around three-sixty and knocks him down with a thunderous clothesline.

 

“Griffon’s Grasp! He’s going for Griffon’s Grasp again,” LDP calls out.

 

“If he does this right he could really have Dillon worn out,” King says.

 

He demonstrates his strength as he lifts Dillon back up only to knock him down with an even more vicious clothesline but he still holds onto his wrist. He lifts Dillon up again with a lazy grip as he tugs him in with his arm extended. But Dillon ducks underneath as he holds his arm in the air high as possible. He steps behind Griffon who lets go of his arm in confusion and he knees his opponent in the back. Griffon arches his back in pain as Tim wraps his arm around Griffon’s throat while he remains bent over backwards and grabs a handful of his white tights.

 

“Blood and Whiskey, Dillon’s going for the Blood and Whiskey!” LDP shouts.

 

He pauses before attempting the move and it gives Arch time to grab a hold of Dillon’s arm. He overpowers Dillon and yanks the arm free as he uses his other arm to wrap around his opponent’s waist. He stands up straight and lifts Tim Dillon up with him like a sack of potatoes.

 

“No! Now Arch has shown a brilliant reversal,” King calls.

 

With Tim at his mercy Arch begins to run towards center of the ring and drops down to his knee, letting Dillon’s shoulder smack against it!

 

“Running shoulderbreaker!” LDP exclaims.

 

Dillon slumps to the canvas as Griffon lies against him and hooks both legs for the cover-

 

“This could end it!” King yells.

 

ONE!

 

Dillon struggles but can’t seem to break the pin.

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

He continues to struggle but Arch’s weight seems too great.

 

 

THREE! But Dillon barely breaks the hold and even Kivell stops and blinks. Everybody stares as he throws up two fingers to a thunderous roar.

 

“Dillon kicked out! After a monstrous shoulder breaker and an effective pin he kicked out,” King says with utter disappointment.

 

“Dillon’s perhaps one of the toughest competitors we’ve had, King,” LDP replies.

 

“Humbug,” King sarcastically spits out.

 

Arch Griffon loses his focus as he stares at Matthew Kivell with an evil glare as Dillon rolls away from right under his nose. He doesn’t argue the fact but continues to stare as Tim gets to his feet, staggers forwards, and plants a dropkick right to Arch’s face. This time Dillon hooks both legs-

 

ONE!

 

“He can’t put Arch out with this,” King spits.

 

TWO! Arch kicks out and Dillon quickly leaps to his feet as Griffon rolls to his.

 

“Dillon couldn’t get the pin there either and now these two are just going back and forth to see who drops first,” LDP says.

 

Dillon throws a swift right hand but it’s caught by Griffon who flings him into the turnbuckle. He smacks against it and lies against it for support even though Arch is charging towards him.

 

“He’s trying for that running Yakuza kick again!” LDP predicts.

 

Tim tries to react as Griffon’s leg is flung high into the air with great force and it connects with Dillon’s chest. He nearly drops forward but Arch grabs him and perches him on the top turnbuckle.

 

“Oh this definitely isn’t good for our returning Irishman,” LDP says.

 

Arch climbs onto the second turnbuckle and clubs Dillon as he locks in a front facelock. He lifts Dillon up a bit as he climbs to the top turnbuckle and hoists him high into the air. He wastes no time as he falls back and sends both of them crashing to the mat with a Superplex.

 

“Superplex!” LDP cries out. “This may end it after a brutal Yakuza kick!”

 

Arch hooks the leg for the cover-

 

ONE!

 

“This better be it, the last thing we need is a drunk, cocky Irishman,” King mutters.

 

TWO!

 

“Dillon’s return may not be so glorious,” LDP says as he watches closely.

 

THRE- Dillon breaks the pin to Arch’s frustration. He doesn’t let the outer world get to him as he just stands up, tugging his opponent up with him.

 

“Tim kicked out and Griffon looks like he’s in his own world,” LDP says.

 

He stands Tim Dillon straight on the canvas as the Irishman sways but still sloppily swings away. Arch avoids one punch after another before he sends a kick to Dillon’s gut.

 

“Dillon’s still got a lot of fight left in him but he’s reeling from this recent beating. Now he’s going for the set up to the Arch Nemesis, Griffon’s deadly cradle piledriver!” LDP exclaims.

 

Tim Dillon doubles over and Arch sends a knee towards his face but it’s caught by Dillon! He tries to capitalize it but Arch Griffon begins to rain down hard axe handles to his back to free his limb. He begins to increase the intensity as Dillon just seems to get more beat and he begins to fall near his knees.

 

Suicide King looks on in admiration and says, “He’s clubbing him like a baby seal!”

 

Finally Tim lets go of the leg as Arch plants it back down with his feet shoulder length apart, ready to snatch him in the standing headscissors. Tim seems huddled underneath and vulnerable as Griffon reaches down to snatch him. But he only brushes against Tim’s shirt as he slides underneath Arch’s legs.

 

“Oh please, that’s a child game,” King says in disgust.

 

Tim Dillon scrambles as he plants his one hand against the canvas, behind Arch’s back, as he uses his legs to begin to move in a circle.

 

“Dillon may have something here!” LDP exclaims.

 

He uses the arm for stability as he launches out his body in a swinging motion with a kick that slams against Griffon’s back! He arches back in pain and Tim Dillon leaps right onto his feet, securing an arm around his neck. He then grabs a handful of the white tights as Arch begins to violently flail like a desperate fish. Tim Dillon lifts him into the air all the way to the point where Griffon’s nearly vertical-

 

“Wait, he can’t hit the inverted suplex!” King proclaims in glee.

 

“No, King, that’s not it!” LDP nearly screams.

 

Dillon drops right down his back and spikes Griffon to the canvas!

 

King stares in shock.

 

“That’s the new, improved Blood and Whiskey!” LDP yells.

 

Arch lies motionless as Dillon rolls him over and lays down for the cover-

 

 

ONE!

 

“That’s it, it’s over!” LDP says with excitement.

 

 

 

TWO!

 

“Come on, you’re more stubborn than Dillon,” King mumbles.

 

 

THREE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

There’s another wave of response, what response exactly is unknown, from the audience as “Barroom Hero” kicks up. Tim Dillon picks himself up off the mat in exhaustion then shakes his head a bit. He looks around and then busts out into a jig as Kivell raises his arm into the air.

 

“Dillon’s back and he’s back in full force,” LDP says.

 

“Way to ruin my Holidays, Dillon,” King sourly says.

 

Green shamrock confetti pours from the rafters as Dillon continues to celebrate his victory.

 

“Now don’t you go anywhere because next- BLAZENWING! BLAZENWING! It's a showdown of universe collapsing proportions!” LDP exclaims.

 

-Starwipe-

Edited December 19, 2005 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

Without much flash or flare, SWF Ramadomination opens up with a nearly pitch-black arena - the only light comes from cameras flashing and the spotlight centered on the ring, where a group of Christmas carolers have gathered! Over the sound system, generic background music for "The 12 Days of Christmas" begins to play, and the carolers put on their best smiles, despite the hostile crowd.

 

"On the first day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

A fast flurry of images hit the Smarktron, each displaying the exploded corpses of Manson's poor victims.

 

"On the second day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

The Smarktron now shows an image of GOdrea, driving a team of loaded pack mules across the Mexican Border into the United States, with the border guards each taking one midget luchadore as payment.

 

"On the third day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

Various clips of Mall Brawls past now grace the screen, and actually get some cheers, though that's mostly because the American infidels are getting tossed down escalators.

 

"On the fourth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy...."

 

Lockdown's Family Friendly logo pops up on the screen, with the sound of a toilet flushing played behind it.

 

"On the fifth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

FIIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

The next slide shows an anonymous hand forcing a tape recorder up the rear end of an Exploding Chicken straw dummy. Needless to say, the crowd is not amused.

 

Kluk-kluk-ka-

 

Boooo!

 

"On the sixth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

Spike's loss to Magnifico is displayed prominently on the Smarktron, and the crowd goes wild at the idea of a man nicknamed "Hollywood" getting pinned by a foreigner!

 

"On the seventh day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

seven masks-a-CLANGing,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

That famous eXodus moment is replayed, from six different camera angles, and six sharp "CLANG"'s ring out across the arena!

 

"On the eighth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

eight question-mark-men,

seven masks-a-CLANGing,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

In a clip obviously filmed about four minutes before we went on the air, eight men sit awkwardly in front of the camera, all wearing bags over their heads and nametags which read "Hi, my name is: QMM!"

 

"On the ninth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

nine plane delays,

eight question-mark-men,

seven masks-a-CLANGing,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

A number of "Wrestler vs. Wrestler" pictures cross the Smarktron, each a match that unfortunately never saw the light of day. A rousing cheer breaks through the negative atmosphere as the "Cardboard Comet vs. Mohammed Koran" marquee floats by, and we barely hear the Suicide King mutter under his breath "Man, what were they thinking with that one?"

 

"On the tenth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

ten Phantom Robots who may or may not really be machiiiines,

nine plane delays,

eight question-mark-men,

seven masks-a-CLANGing,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

IMAGE NOT FOUND

 

"On the eleventh day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

eleven Ebony pudding matches,

ten Phantom Robots who may or may not really be machiiiines,

nine plane delays,

eight question-mark-men,

seven masks-a-CLANGing,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

The cameramen wisely turn the cameras away, and we can only guess what the crowd is seeing by their reaction, which sounds like a combonation of swearing and vomiting.

 

"On the twelfth day of Christmas, the SWF gave to meeee,

twelve neglected websites,

eleven Ebony pudding matches,

ten Phantom Robots who may or may not really be machiiiines,

nine plane delays,

eight question-mark-men,

seven masks-a-CLANGing,

six Spikes-a-losing,

FIIIIIIVE STRAW DUUUMIIIIES!

four falling Lockdown Ratings,

three Mall Brawls,

two Border Runs,

and some Maaaansooonoooosiiittyyyyy..."

 

THESWF.com's home page appears on the Smarktron, proudly displaying the results from From the Fire 2003. As the image fades away, fireworks begin to go off on all four corners of the ring! Fake snow begins to fall from the cieling! Sleigh bells ring, and a safely-harnessed Santa Clause, pulled by eight Manatees, flies above the ring! One of the carolers, a boy on crutches, takes this opportunity to grab the microphone and say "God bless us, everyone!"

 

Roughly fifty ringside patrons rush the carolers, while others take potshots at Santa.

 

Now would be a good time to cut to the opening graphic and the card, I think.

Edited December 19, 2005 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

And now our feature presentation...

 

...finally...

 

The Main Event - SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez

 

---> We've known this one was coming almost immediately after Magnifico won his third world title. Magnifico has been set on a COLLISION COURSE~! with Cortez for weeks now, and it finally all comes to a head at the holidays! Sadly, the loser here won't even have a lump of coal to show for it. Can Magnifico secure his place in time as possibly the all-time greatest SWF champion in history? Or will Cortez, long considered to be one of the finest in the SWF, finally reach the summit of his long journey to the top?

 

Rules: Sandard singles match.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Loser Leaves the Fed I Quit Match

Wild vs. Dangerous

 

---> Since almost the very beginning of their careers have these two men swirled around each other. Two of the greatest cruiserweights ever, one of the greatest tag teams ever, and one of the strongest friendships to ever exist. Alas, then, that things should come to this. Much has changed for both of these men since the genesis of their careers; young Dominic LeCroix has gone from the naive and upbeat highflyer to a man hardened by both tragedy and necessity. Johnny Dangerous from a goofy charicature to a world champion. It has been in his inconquerable thirst for such power again that has turned him on the only man to stand by him his entire career, and opened a window into a small and mean soul. And if the only way this will end is for each man to destroy each other, then so be it.

 

Rules: The man who forces his opponent to say "I Quit" will be proclaimed the victor. This can be done through any means necessary; there are no other falls and no rules. The loser will have their SWF contract terminated, ending their career.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Cold Front Classic Finals: 2/3 Falls

JJ Johnson © vs. TORU Takahara ©

 

---> It all comes down to this. JJ Johnson and TORU Takahara, both pegged as favorites to win the Cold Front Classic, are now facing each other in the final round. Probably the hardest match to call on the card, as both of these men have been unstoppable lately. The winner of this match gets a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship at the Clusterfuck, and gets a special plaque commemorating his success in the tournament!

 

I think the title shot is probably a bigger incentive, though...

 

Rules: Standard match. First person to get two falls wins, and will be rewarded with a Title Shot at the Main Event of Clusterfuck.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

SWF International Championship Match

Jay Hawke © vs. Wes Davenport

 

---> Wes Davenport continues to defy the odds, winning matches that he had no business even being booked in! Well now, it looks like Wes's luck may have finally run out, as one of those wins earned him a shot against Jay Hawke for the International Title! As cunning as Wes may be, he'll need more than his wits to survive this match...

 

Rules: Singles match!

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Landon Maddix vs. "The Icon" Max King

 

---> Another day, another match we've been building to for weeks. King has been on a small tear since his return, and has focused all of his energies towards the man once known as "Triple Crown Landon." And not since the days of "Triple Crown Landon" have these known the other. (I think) Although much of Landon's recent attention has been on how to combat technical perfection of TKO, what better place to truly display his new skills but on the big stage, against an old friend?

 

Rules: Singles match?

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

SWF Ultraviolent Championship Match - Dog Collar Chain Match

Bruce Blank © vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu

 

---> Akira, slightly offended by Bruce's Cruiserweight Challenge, threw down a challenge of his own last Lockdown, asking for a shot at Bruce's title at the Christmas Pay Per View!

 

And Bruce responded... well... like Bruce... by brutally attacking Akira on the next show, with the help of one of Akira's old opponents! What's more, Bruce was given his choice of stipulations, and in true Ultraviolent form, he went with the Dog Collar Chain Match!

 

Has Akira bitten off more than he can chew? Or will The Divine Wind end Blank's impressive reign, and begin his own as the new Ultraviolent Champion?

 

Rules: Akira and Blank will be chained together via dog collars around the neck. There are no disqualifications - the first pin wins.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Hollywood Spike Jenkins vs. Zyon

 

---> Mentor vs. Student, in a friendly competition to see who's the best.

 

Fifty bucks says it won't stay friendly for long.

 

Both of these men have made some pretty big claims as to their worth as Cruiserweights - will Spike put the youngin' in his place, or will Zyon pull a Zyon and silence the boisterous ex-champ?

 

Rules: Match with singles.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Opening Bout

Kevin Coyote vs. Ced Ordonez

 

---> Two Christmas Gifts in one match! Kevin Coyote gets to make his debut on SWF Pay Per View, and Ced gets tossed a piece of fresh meat! This could be just the match Ced needs to turn things around... or it could be the start of a beautiful career...

 

Rules: Singles match.

[the.weej 0]

As the opening sound and light show, complete with truly informative yet unnecessarily time consuming show flashbacks, fades out, the lights come back on in the Masjid al-Nabawi, and the cameras are greeted with the excited faces of the excited SWF announcers, Longdogger Pete and Suicide King.

 

"Welcome to our holiday show, SWF Ramadomination!" greets Pete. "We are all ready here in the Masja... Mazda... uh, Macaroni..."

 

"Keep trying, Pete," smirks King. "You'll get it."

 

"...eh, here in Medina, Saudi Arabia!" Pete tries again. "It'll be a great show headlined by the champion himself, El Luchadore Magnifico, going toe to toe with the "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez, with the SWF Championship on the line! King, how has the Middle East treated you so far?"

 

"Pete, let me clarify something for the home viewers," King says sternly. "We may be in the Middle East, and it may be Christmastime, but we are NOT out here to entertain the troops, and we are NOT out here to donate any proceeds to charity. And you certainly will NOT catch us singing any Christmas carols, either. We're here for just plain unadulterated brutality, and plenty of it."

 

"That sounds like reason enough to me," Pete affirms. "And with that said, it looks like it's about time for our first match of the night!"

 

The stage is lit up by a series of bright white flashing lights as a hard rock guitar riff launches over the speakers. A young man emerges onto the stage, dressed in jeans and a jean jacket, which is open to reveal an SWF T-shirt underneath. He has short spiked blond hair, blue eyes, and a confident attitude. He strolls slowly and defiantly towards the ring as "I'm Alive" by Disturbed plays over the speakers:

 

Never again will I be dishonored

And never again will I be reminded

We're living within the world of the jaded

They killed inspiration

It's my obligation

To never again, allow this to happen

Where do I begin?

The choices are endless

Denying the sin

My art, my redemption

I carry the torch of my fathers before me

 

The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away

There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice

To change myself, I'd rather die

Lonely, we'll not understand

I will make the greatest sacrifice

You can't predict where the outcome lies

You'll never take me alive

I'm alive

I'm alive

I'm alive

 

As the young man slides into the ring, the ring announcer, Funyon, is ready to make the introduction. "The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall! Now entering the ring, from Brunswick, Georgia, weighing in at 225 pounds...KEVIN COYOOOOOOOOOTEEEEEEEE!"

 

"The 20-year-old Kevin Coyote is making his SWF debut tonight!" says Pete.

 

Kevin Coyote smirks at the mixed yet polite reaction of the Saudi audience, clearly unsure what to make of him. Disturbed's music fades out, but as Kevin watches the stage, his attention is interrupted by an audible ringing sound.

 

"What's that sound?" asks King.

 

"I think his cell phone is ringing!" exclaims Pete.

 

Kevin slips a concealed mobile phone out of the pocket of his jean jacket, and answers it. He begins talking rather animatedly into the phone, but his voice isn't picked up by the television audio, and the audience is left wondering what he is saying.

 

"Well... this sure is interesting," mutters Pete.

 

"What the hell is he doing?" wonders King aloud. "He's holding up the damned match!"

 

"Well, while we're waiting for this match to start," says Pete, "we'd like to show you a clip from an event held earlier today. This morning the people of Saudi Arabia wanted to thank us for coming out here by putting on a little show of their own. Here's a segment from a women's match that took place this afternoon."

 

The camera cuts away to show a video clip. This clip takes place in the same ring, but with a text box in the corner that reads "Earlier Today." Inside the ring are two female figures -- one very small and slender, the other hundreds of pounds larger -- dressed from head to toe in hooded black robes and wearing veils that cover their faces. As the two Arab women grapple in the ring, two Arabic announcers call the action.

 

"There's an Amish whip by Couscous!" exclaims the play by play man, Ali Babaganush.

 

"Are you sure you have that right, Ali?" asks the color commentator, Abu Falafel.

 

"Relatively sure, Abu," replies Ali. "And there's a counter, followed by an eye rake by Lady Turban."

 

"For those of you just joining us," says Abu, "you're watching a special Veil match between these two Middle Eastern divas!"

 

After getting an advantage with the eye rake, the larger woman, apparently known as Lady Turban, makes a grab for the skinny woman's veil. Lady Turban succeeds, snatching the veil from Couscous and revealing her eyes; the rest of her face is still concealed by the hooded robe. A bell rings and Lady Turban's arm is raised in the air; Couscous shrieks and covers her face with her hands, trying to quickly get out of the ring.

 

"Looks like Lady Turban is the winner of our veil match!" exclaims Ali.

 

"By Allah, that is more skin than I have ever seen on a woman in this ring!" proclaims Abu.

 

"Wait a minute. What's going on here?" asks Ali.

 

Inside the ring, the referee and a number of other officials have entered the ring. One of them points accusingly at Lady Turban.

 

"I don't get it. What's the problem?" asks Abu.

 

Suddenly the lead official clutches at the folds of Lady Turban's robe, and in a deft move, pulls the robe clear over her head. Lady Turban shrieks, and the audience gasps, but surprisingly, the woman left standing after being "disrobed" is not a woman at all -- it's a man!

 

"It's HamSauce!" exclaims Ali. "Independent wrestler HamSauce, once affiliated with the SWF, has managed to get all the way to Saudi Arabia and infiltrate our ring disguised as a woman!"

 

"Well that's a photo finish if I ever saw one," says Abu.

 

"And it looks like these officials are arresting HamSauce!" says Ali.

 

Sure enough, the officials lock a dejected HamSauce in irons and begin leading him out of the ring. The ring announcers gets on the microphone and shouts, "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner by disqualification... COUSCOUS!"

 

At this point the camera cuts back to the present, where Longdogger Pete and Suicide King resume their commentary of the opening match for SWF Ramadomination.

 

"What a great show they put on for us, eh, King?" asks Pete.

 

"What the hell are you talking about, Pete?" replies King, sounding insulted. "That was only HamSauce and some chick in a robe! That was probably the worst match I've ever seen! Is this what we came all the way out here for?"

 

"Well," says Pete, changing the subject, "it appears that SWF rookie Kevin Coyote is finally off the phone and so we're finally ready to get this match underway."

 

In the ring, Kevin Coyote has slipped his mobile phone back into his jean jacket, then removed the jacket and slid it out of the ring. He stands facing the stage, awaiting his opponent.

 

"Night of Fire!"

 

The lights go out and the beat of the song "Night of Fire" by Niko begins to pump through the speakers. Funyon announces Coyote's opponent, jumping the gun a little on the introduction. "Introducing the opponent, from Sacramento, California, weighing in at 209 pounds... CED ORDOOOOOOONEZ!"

 

"FIRE!"

 

BOOM!

 

An eruption of flame lights up the stage with accompanying thundering sound. When the flame dies down, Ced Ordonez is standing on the stage, waving to the crowd to try to get them excited before the match begins.

 

Unfortunately, the crowd does get excited, but in the wrong way. Many of the fans in the several rows closest to the stage begin to panic, frightened by the pyrotechnic blast that kicked off Ced Ordonez's entrance. Several dozen people flee for the exits, getting into occasional fistfights as they trample over each other in a rush to get out the door.

 

"I always knew one day that guy would clear the seats!" King remarks. "What are those people so afraid of anyway? It's just a little explosion. They act like they've never heard an explosion before."

 

Pete shakes his head. "I would've expected just a little more tact from you, King. You know full well those people have probably all heard an explosion before, and probably associate it with something else."

 

With the fans near the stage section fleeing the area, the security crew in that section suddenly, inexplicably, climbs over the railing. The staff members work their way to the ramp and began walking up the stage toward Ordonez.

 

"Now what's going on?" Pete asks.

 

"Looks like Ced Ordonez is getting his own welcoming committee!" replies King.

 

Ordonez raises his arms, shrugging in a "what's up?" gesture, but the six staffers' moods are anything but pleasant. The first man suddenly punches Ordonez in the gut, causing him to double forward. The second man spins Ordonez around and launches a high kick in the air, connecting with Ordonez's backside and dropping him to the hard metal stage floor. The six men take turns kicking at Ordonez with hard leather boots all across his body - his sides, his stomach, his face.

 

"Who the hell are these guys?" exclaims Pete. "They're beating the hell out of Ced Ordonez!"

 

"Way to make a first impression on this country," notes King.

 

The music has stopped, but nobody notices that now. Kevin Coyote, calmly watching a moment ago, climbs out of the ring and makes his way up the ramp toward the carnage on the stage.

 

"Here comes Kevin Coyote toward the stage," says Pete. "Maybe he'll help put a stop to this."

 

Coyote gets to the top of the stage, and all the security men quickly move out of his way, retreating once again to the relative safety of the audience. Coyote stands over the bruised and beaten Ordonez... and gives him a kick to the ribs of his own!

 

"And now Coyote has joined in with this madness!" shouts Pete. "Somebody put a stop to it!"

 

Coyote helps Ordonez to his feet, then punches him hard in the face. Ordonez reels a step or two toward the ramp, then Coyote grabs him by the neck and "walks" him forcefully down the ramp. When they get to the bottom, Coyote lifts up Ordonez's legs and rolls his opponent into the ring. Coyote then clambers in himself, stands up, and signals for the timekeeper to ring the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"This is insane!" hollers Pete. "Now the match is officially underway! But it's been a slaughter!"

 

"Yeah, it's a real bloodbath!" exclaims King. "I love it! Now this is good TV, Pete, not that crappy HamSauce match!"

 

Coyote smiles to himself, then runs toward the other side of the ring. Coyote leaps on his way to the ropes, landing on the second rope, and tumbling backward in a perfect lionsault to drop atop his opponent.

 

"Full Moon Assault!" identifies Pete.

 

"That'll add insult to injury," says King.

 

Coyote drapes his arm over Ordonez's body, and the referee gets down to his knees and counts for the cover.

 

"There's the cover!" shouts Pete.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," announces Funyon, "the winner of this match, by pinfall... KEVIN COYOOOOOTEEEEEEE!"

 

"This wasn't a match," argues Pete. "This was a robbery!"

 

"No, this was an opportunity," King corrects him. "And Kevin Coyote took that opportunity and ran with it!"

 

A barely conscious Ced Ordonez struggles to get back to his feet as Kevin Coyote's arm is raised in victory. As Ordonez makes it to a standing position, Coyote pushes the referee out of the way, then steps behind Ordonez, tapping his opponent on the shoulder.

 

"Uh oh," says Pete. "I don't think Kevin is finished with Ced just yet!"

 

Coyote taps on Ordonez's shoulder and a confused Ordonez turns around to face him. That's when Coyote sticks his arm out and shoves it across Ordonez's chest, dropping him backwards in a fierce power clothesline that knocks him unconscious.

 

"And there's Coyote's other finisher, the Coyote Takedown!" declares Pete. "This is just too much! Who were those guys anyway?"

 

Coyote climbs out of the ring, leaving the insensate Ordonez behind. Coyote slips his jean jacket back on, and pulls his mobile phone out of his pocket again as he starts walking up the ramp. He holds the phone up in the air and smiles broadly.

 

"Wait," says Pete, realization dawning on him. "Did Coyote hire those guys? Could he have set this whole thing up?"

 

"I wouldn't put it past him," replies King. "He seems like a pretty intelligent guy! You know, for a rookie."

 

"Well, Kevin Coyote picks up the win here in his SWF debut, with a dastardly victory over Ced Ordonez! Stay tuned folks," directs Pete, "because next up we've got another big match, as "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins goes one on one with Zyon, right here on SWF Ramadomination! Don't go away!"

Edited December 19, 2005 by Justice

[the.weej 0]

One of the many expensive SWF cameras run the gauntlet of the flocks of Saudi Arabian fans who to say the least are absolutely pumped for the year ending PPV. Ramadomination started off being the first SWF PPV a fanatic could actually blowoff, but in one particular the night the card went up, and it simply scared the rival federations with the amount of talent on it. So far the crowd has gotten everything they wanted for Christmas as told by the sign “Fuck 360 give me Ramadomination!”

 

The lone obscenity inspired American…

 

“Well King so far we have witness a rookie break through the SWF on the biggest PPV of the year.” Longdogga Pete explains the opening match.

 

“Coyote sure does have a bright future ahead of him, but not everyone in the fed are stiffs like Ced Ordonez…pfft.” King scoffs at the jobber’s name.

 

“I whole heartedly agree with you. This next match will prove to the competitors that fifty percent of our roster does not consist of enhancement talent.” Pete promises.

 

The crowd explodes as a picture of Hollywood Spike Jenkins appears on the god awfully expensive SWF Smarktron. The explosion of cheers continues to grow as the Unique Youth Zyon appears on the tron as well. The Arabians continue to scream and chant…

 

…remember this is still the under card.

 

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a SIXTY minute time limit.”

 

Funyon shouts as the lights suddenly dim as everything in existence sways their view toward the Smarktron.

 

“I’m Born!”

 

YEAH!

 

“I’m Alive!”

 

YEAHHHHH

 

“I BREATHE!!!”

 

WHOOOOOO!

 

The crowd explodes as “Vitamin” by Incubus plays. Soon the arena reaches a peak in excitement as the lights completely shut off….

 

BOOOM!

 

Suddenly, a shocked crowd turns to see some pyro explode before witnessing the Unique Youth makes his entrance. Leaping through the curtain Zyon is immediately met with love and admiration from the Arabian crowd who reach their hands out for even a remote chance to touch their hero. The youth takes a moment to analyze his surroundings noticing that to some of the less fortunate folks this could be a once in a lifetime thing.

 

And Zyon refuses to disappoint.

 

Dripping with charisma, Zyon sprints down the ramp flailing both hands out to the reaching Arabic crowd before hurling himself on to the ring apron.

 

“Introducing first, weighing in at 200 lbs and hailing from Elkhart Indiana, The Unique Youth ZYYYYON!!!!”

 

Funyon shouts putting his usual emphasis on the “Y” in Zyon’s name. The energetic youth enters the ring with his infamous flip over the top rope, and he of course lands perfectly on his feet. As the adrenaline continues to pump Zyon points his index finger out to the crowd before performing a slow 180 degree turn giving the respect that the genuine fans deserve before flipping out into a rocker headbang followed by a subtle raising of the arms.

 

“The youth looks to be in grand form tonight.” Pete announces.

 

“I’d have to agree. Tonight his opponent is a man he respects more than anyone, and even I can’t fault Zyon for being excited. A win tonight could put him back on track for the Cruiserweight title.” King explains.

 

Soon the discussion ends as the arena lights blind everyone in attendance including Zyon who knows very well what is going on. This is a first for most in the unnamed arena as the sound of a record scratching haunts the younger audience. Rubbing at their stinging eyes the Arabic crowd tries to ignore the feeling of euphoria as one Suicide King begs the question.

 

“Should we put a sign up that explains that the SWF is not responsible for dizziness, blindness, anal leakage, erection for longer than two weeks, heart attack, or anything else that could be damaging to an individual?”

 

Eh…no.

 

BBBBBBBAAAAAAMMMMMMM!!!!

 

The crowd explodes once again as the crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” sends a chill through the heated crowd. The maniacal drums kick in as the song’s pace reaches a hardcore peak.

 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

 

And that would be Randy Blythe’s high screamed pitch that signals for the whiteout to end, and the flashing to begin when it pertains to the lights. Through the spazing lights enters a man hidden by the hood of a sweatshirt. The former cruiserweight champion drops to one knee before dramatically lifting the “X” symbol proving that he is indeed still as straight edge as ever.

 

“And his opponent weighing in at 220 lbs and hailing from Hollywood, California, HOLLYWOOD SPIKE JENKINS!!!!!!”

 

Not as dramatic as usual, Spike immediately rolls into the ring, and continues until reaching the center of the canvas. The ratings grapper ascends to one knee before pausing leaving the crowd wanting more. Suddenly, the hidden competitor peels back the hood revealing his blond hair. Afterwards, Spike forms an “X” on his chest once again physically announcing his straight edge life style.

 

“Looks like Spike tonight is also ready to return to his winning ways after having an excellent showing in the CFC tournament.” Pete enlightens the fans watching at home.

 

“Too bad he ran into the man with the hottest streak in the SWF today. That man would be JJ Johnson, who by the way is my pick tonight.” King praises a man not even interested in the current match.

 

Referee Nick Soapdish calmly waits for both men to signal that they are ready before the man with the power throws his hand up in the air.

 

DING

 

DING

 

DING

 

The two competitors immediately circle the ring before the impatient Zyon makes the first move as he extends his hand?!

 

“Well King these two have gotten along in the last couple months.” Pete acknowledges.

 

“Sure Pete, but let’s not forget. Spike is a snake. Zyon is simply leaving himself open.” If King calls you a snake then damnit, you’re a snake.

 

The crowd falls into silence as all eyes are on the man from Hollywood. Spike coldly stares at his opponent for a moment before gripping Zyon’s extended hand…

 

….And he shakes it!!!

 

YEAHHHH!

 

The crowd cheers on the show of sportsmanship.

 

“You were saying King?” Pete asks with an arrogant gesture.

 

Zyon slowly backs away from Spike before engaging into battle with the cruiserweight veteran. Both men lock up, jousting for a position that neither gives up. Spike transitions the lock up into a hammerlock that goes into his favor leaving Zyon to blindly grab for Spike’s head. The former cruiserweight champ though keeps his head away from the youth’s grasp leaving Zyon to think of other options, only for Spike to make the youth’s decision for him. Spike transitions his arms around the head of his lighter opponent locking Zyon in a basic paint by numbers headlock. Gripping on to the body of his opponent, Zyon pushes Spike forward toward the ropes, only for Spike to clutch a handful of Zyon’s hair before falling back into the headlock. Spike descends the extra twenty pounds he holds over Zyon on to his opponent forcing the former hardcore champion to one knee. Continuing to squeeze, the ratings grabber positions his feet in the middle of the ring disallowing Zyon to be anywhere near the ropes.

 

“Spike knows that he needs to try and ground Zyon, which in turn will stop most of the youth’s momentum.” Pete spells it out for the mentally challenged.

 

STOMP!

 

The youth powerfully pivots his foot, placing his body straight into the air once again and with a well-placed elbow to Spike’s gut…

 

….CRACK!

 

Jenkin’s grip loosens enough for Zyon to bolt away from the creative control enemy and bounce viciously off the ropes only to fall into a deeeeeeep arm drag performed by the quick Hollywood Spike Jenkins. The veteran tries to lock on an arm bar, but the youth immediately rolls away from his friend before rising back to his feet. However, once again Zyon blindly charges what some deem to be his mentor only this time to be Japanese arm dragged to the mat.

 

YEAH!

 

The crowd cheers Spike who instead of staying on Zyon decides to back off and throw up the “X” symbol proving that he is still as cocky as ever. Zyon once again rises back to his feet, but this time chooses to recompose himself…for a moment. The Unique Youth charges Jenkins again, which Spike retaliates with a look of “ok he’s an idiot.”

 

“Ok is Zyon brain damaged or plain ignorant. This strategy has yet to work.” King scoffs.

 

Spike patiently waits for Zyon to fall into yet another trap, and well the man who hails from Hollywood may as well be waiting forever as Zyon slides under the wide-open legs of his opponent before tricking Spike into a quick roll up.

ONE…kickout.

 

Spike immediately kicks out as Zyon pops back to his feet and places a foot to the stomach of his opponent. The Patron Wrestler of Athens repeats his motion and places another foot to the gut of his opponent, this time doubling over the former cruiserweight champ. The youth locks the stunned Spike into a front face lock before attempting to flip Spike over with a snap suplex. Jenkins though refuses to be defeated early as he unceremoniously blocks the simple suplex attempt. Zyon can feel the momentum shift like a pendulum as Spike powers the youth into the air vertically…and watches as Zyon lands on his feet perfectly. The youth sprints forward and once again bounces off the ropes, and once again gets tricked into an arm drag…

 

…That is countered as Zyon corkscrews through the air magnificently and lands on his feet before locking Spike down with a headlock of his own.

 

“Are my eyes deceiving me or did Zyon just beat Spike in that little exchange?”

 

“No surprisingly your eyes are fine.”

 

“Surprising indeed, especially if you consider that I have to look at your ugly mug all night.”

 

The calm and collected creative control rival places his palm on the back of his opponent allowing Zyon to think he has the advantage until…

 

…SWISH!

 

The NEW straight edge sensation forces Zyon away with a might push only to be knocked to the mat by a Zyon running shoulder block. Spike’s eyes blink wildly until he snaps back into reality and kips up to the cheers of thousands.

 

YEAHHHHH!

 

Zyon though ignores the noise that is usually directed toward him as he knocks Spike back with a staggering right hand. The youth sees another opening as he sprints forward only to have Spike’s knee pressed into his gut. The shocked youth clutches his gut leaving his face open for another knee…

 

CRRRACK!

 

The impact of the knee forces Zyon to the mat clutching his face as Spike lifts his friend back to his feet and unleashes a harsh chop…

 

WHOOOOOOO!

 

Even the Arabics know what to do after hearing the stinging of said chop. Clutching his chest, Zyon strikes Spike in the thigh with a hard soccer kick followed by an attempted scoop slam that Spike easily floats over leaving Zyon open for attack. Jenkins desires to trap Zyon in a reverse waist lock giving the youth extra incentive to fight on. Spike immediately tries the always destructive German suplex, but Zyon locks his leg behind Spike’s and actually transitions himself behind Jenkins!

 

“Look, Pete Zyon just beat Spike again.” King is amazed.

 

The Unique Youth jousts for grip, as Spike is certainly enraged at the sudden turn of events. Zyon copies his friend and attempts a German suplex, but Spike knew how to block this move at the tender age of five…or that’s what some say. The Californian locks his foot behind Zyon, but before he can perform a standing switch the youth locks on a quick and sloppy sleeper hold!!!

 

YEAH!

 

The crowd cheers for the youth who finds himself backing into a turnbuckle. Spike blindly grabs the top rope giving Zyon until the count of five to break the hold.

 

ONE…break.

 

Zyon immediately breaks the hold as Spike staggers away from his opponent only for Zyon to charge the unaware Spike.

 

CRRACK!

 

Well he was thought to be unaware. Spike wallops Zyon with a sharp elbow to the face followed by a spinning roundhouse that Zyon barely dodges. Spike spins 180 degrees facing Zyon who retaliates with an Earth shaking European uppercut!

 

SMACK!

 

Spike’s head rocks side to side as he loses his balance and falls into the turnbuckle. Fearless, Zyon dashes toward his stunned opponent who gets his foot up striking Zyon RIGHT IN…the hand? The youth catches the errand foot before forcefully dragging the former Revolution Zero member out from the turnbuckle, and spinning the former cruiserweight champion around leading to a Spike Jenkins DISCUS CLOTHESLINE!

 

“What a shot!” Pete exclaims.

 

Zyon falls to the mat clutching his throat as Spike pulls himself to his feet as he subsequently pulls the Unique Youth to his feet as well. Latching on to Zyon’s arm, Spike Irish whips Zyon toward the ropes, and waits as the youth comes bouncing back. The man from Hollywood takes a mighty step forward before unleashing a lariat that Zyon DUCKS! The youth’s momentum carries Zyon to the opposite ropes that he shoots off before taking Spike down with a running one handed bulldog. Spike pops back up to his feet clutching his face as Zyon scoops the straight edger into the air and drops the veteran cruiserweight on his back with a textbook scoop slam. Zyon continues to dish out the punishment with a standing corkscrew leg drop that lands dangerously across the bridge of his opponent’s nose.

 

OoooooOOOOO!

 

The crowd remarks as Spike clutches his face leaving himself open for the lateral press.

 

ONE…kickout.

 

“Jenkins as stubborn as ever. He refuses to give Zyon anything more than a one count.” King comments on the veteran.

 

Zyon shows absolutely no signs of relief or letdown as he forces Spike back to his feet before pummeling him with a flurry of right hands.

 

Crack…

 

Crack…

 

Crack…

 

With Spike staggering Zyon leaps into the air and attempts a gamengiri, but Spike is simply too resourceful, and ducks out of the way of the oncoming blow. The youth smacks the canvas stomach first forcing Zyon to clutch his gut as he rises into a Spike Jenkins’s front face lock. Spike’s muscles tense a bit as he hurls Zyon into the air before dropping backward with a plain yet damaging suplex! The youth sits up clutching his back before falling back to the mat as Spike grasps a hand full hand of hair and powers Zyon back to his feet. The youth can only blink violently as Spike fires off another knife edge chop…

 

WHOOOOO!

 

…That echoes across the arena! Zyon retreats holding his chest, but Spike hunts his friend down, and latches on a reverse waist lock. Jenkins’s once again attempts a German suplex, and Zyon once again blocks it via locking his foot behind Spike’s. The youth blindly fires off an elbow…

 

CRRACK!

 

…That connects, but the blow only loosens the grip a bit. The former hardcore champion reloads for another sharp elbow, but Spike quickly lifts Zyon vertically into the air before dropping the youngster with a high angle backdrop!

 

“Finally, Spike beats Zyon to the punch.” Pete says.

 

The youth now clutches the back of his head as Spike sets Zyon up in a sitting position before locking in a modified chin lock that presses the knee of the user into the neck of the victim!

 

“I’ve seen some glorified rest holds in my life, but this one takes the cake. Angles like that makes me remember why I retired.” The gambling man puts over the rest hold.

 

Zyon reaches for the ropes that are too far away as Spike continues to apply the pressure by grinding the point of his knee into the neck of his opponent. Having enough of the annoying pain, Zyon turns his body over reverting the glorified chin lock into a horribly sloppy headlock. The youth quickly hides himself behind Spike applying a wristlock that gives both men time to think through their next moves. Zyon though never analyzes the chess like strategy that goes into a match, so the youth releases Spike who turns into one of those hardcore forearms!

 

SMASH!

 

Spike’s face caves in as Zyon follows up the blow with another forearm attempt, but this time Spike swats the attack away and drops Zyon with a forearm of his own!

 

SMMMMASH!

 

The youth falls to one knee clutching his face as Spike sets up his three-kick combination by delivering a sharp kick to the chest of his opponent, that instead connects with the hands of said opponent. Once again Spike is caught off guard by Zyon’s resilience as the youth drops Jenkins with a tantalizing dragon screw! Spike clutches his leg as he rolls out of the ring leaving Zyon in the ring…

 

“Uh oh. King we know what is coming.”

 

“Yep, a fifty/fifty chance that Zyon will kill himself.”

 

The new straight edge sensation limps around a little trying to shake the pain from his leg as he continues to disregard Zyon as a threat. The crowd though understands that Spike has made the mistake of underestimating the youth who sprints off the opposite ropes and dashes toward a shocked Jenkins who quickly moves away as Zyon slams on the brakes instead of performing one of those crazy flippy floppy 360 to the second power degree flip over the ropes. The youth calmly takes a step back before smiling at his friend; Spike Jenkins begins to stare at Zyon as if he was a true enemy.

 

“It seems, Pete that Jenkins didn’t expect to be losing so early.” King thinks.

 

Referee Nick Soapdish begins the standard cruiserweight addenda twenty count…

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

THREE

 

FOUR

 

FIVE

 

Spike takes a moment to compose himself before rolling back into the ring and rising to his feet. Jenkins appears to have regained his confidence as a creepy smile emerges over the youthful yet fatigued face of the former cruiserweight champion. Zyon continues to hop energetically in place as Spike calmly approaches his young friend before throwing a right hand that Zyon easily turns against Spike by taking the straight edge down with a hip toss. Immediately, Spike lifts himself up only for Zyon to bury the former champion with a kick to the gut followed by the emergence of another front face lock. Zyon though this time is able to drop Spike with a snap suplex followed by the cover…

 

ONE…kickout.

 

Spike quickly kicks out, as Zyon is first to his feet followed by his opponent. Spike attempts to shake off the cobwebs, but Zyon without hesitation charges his opponent, and knocks Jenkins back with a shoulder to the gut. The Californian flies back into the turnbuckle as the crowd is stunned at how Zyon has taken it to his friend and mentor. The older competitor continues to try and get a handle on what is going wrong, but the ever-persistent Zyon leaps on to the second rope and uses the rope as a springboard that sends a brutal knee into the face of the new straight edge sensation. The Unique Youth exits out to the ring apron as Spike staggers out from the corner clutching his face. The creative control rival spins around to see the horror of his youthful friend twirling down on to him with a springboard spinning wheel kick that lands perfectly across the face of the Californian.

 

YEAHHHHH!

 

The crowd cheers the high risk move as Zyon rolls on top of Jenkins.

 

ONE…

 

TWO…kickout.

 

“First near fall of the match.” Pete announces.

 

Zyon brushes his hair out of his mystical green eyes as the youth pulls Spike back to his feet before immediately Irish whipping him into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes defenseless as Zyon fires off a lariat that is COUNTERED INTO A STO!!!!

 

Guess Spike wasn’t THAT defenseless.

 

YEAAAAAHHHHH!

 

The crowd explodes as the straight edger shows a sign of life as Zyon rolls around on the mat trying to catch the breath that was just knocked out from his lungs. Jenkins slaps the mat trying to psyche himself up as the Unique Youth rolls on to his stomach before pulling himself to his wobbly feet. Spike follows in suit as he challenges the bold youth to come at him.

 

“This is where we will realize how much Zyon has matured as a pro wrestler.” Pete remarks.

 

And on cue the immature youth charges Spike whose smirk drowns away as an intense look spreads across the face of the drug free athlete. Spike crouches down before latching on to the legs of his opponent, and lifting…

 

…Before dropping Zyon THROAT FIRST across the top rope!

 

“Well Pete it sure looks like Zyon has matured…shit.” King shakes his head.

 

The youth bounces into the air before staggering into Jenkins who traps Zyon in a waist lock followed by a superior railgun suplex that snaps Zyon up and over on to the mat violently!!! Spike is the one going for the cover this time.

 

ONE…

 

TWO…kickout.

 

And this time Zyon is the one who refuses to lose. Spike grabs the youth by his hair before attempting to force Zyon to his feet, and succeeds…only to be dropped with a surprising jawbreaker!!!

 

YEAH!

 

The crowd with a quick cheer as Spike staggers backward giving Zyon the moment he needs to recuperate. Zyon rushes toward the former Indy star firing off a simple yet sufficient kick to the gut. The straight edger doubles over, as Zyon steps back before rushing forward and taking Spike down with a swinging neck breaker. Zyon ignores going for the cover since his friend is far too close to the ropes, so the youth opts to retreat to the ring apron. Overconfident, Zyon looks out into the crowd and pumps his fist.

 

“Let’s go Zyon!”

 

The Arabic crowd cheers as Zyon can only smile. The suicidal youth grips the top rope before slingshotting himself over the ropes feet first letting his feet clip the top rope perpendicular to the one he uses as a slingshot, and in thus creating a split legged moonsault that lands BEAUTIFULLLY across the KNEES of one Hollywood Spike Jenkins!!!!

 

OOOOOOoooooooOOO!

 

The crowd echoes as Zyon’s face dwindles into a look of shock as the youth clutches his abdomen. Spike pulls himself up via help from the ring ropes as Zyon continues to roll around the canvas in dreadful agony. Spike takes a moment to collect himself before forcing the former hardcore champ to his feet and pushing him back into the turnbuckle. Groggy, and in a slight daze Zyon watches as a blurred Hollywood Spike Jenkins reels back to deliver one of those chops…

 

SMMMACK!!!!

 

WHOOOOO!

 

…And there was nothing he could do about it. Zyon attempts to stagger out from the dungeon known as the turnbuckle, but Jenkins refuses to let his friend escape the punishment he deserves. Obviously, Spike’s pride has taken a beaten and it is his duty to make the youngster pay.

 

SMMCRRRACK???

 

Spike reeled back for another slicing chop, but Zyon ultra quickly fired off a forearm forcing Spike backward. The youth takes a deep breath before charging out from the turnbuckle and falling into a devastating enforcer spinning SPINEBUSTAAAAA!

 

“Damn…what a buster.” King shouts.

 

Spike falls on Zyon, and even hooks the leg for reassurance.

 

ONE…

 

TWO…kickout.

 

“I thought for sure Zyon was finished.” Pete attempts to build the suspense.

 

Spike thought to be in firm control lifts Zyon off the canvas like a rapper throws out money to the bitches and hoes across the nation. Jenkins latches on to the arm of his opponent and lazily whips him toward the turnbuckle, but Zyon counters as he tries to send Spike into the turnbuckle. BUT Spike counters that and finally is the one to get the youth to dash toward the turnbuckle…

 

…And then up it?????

 

The youth concentrates on his balance before spinning off the turnbuckle with his patented corkscrew body attack!!!!

 

“No REGARD, KING!!!!” Pete inhales.

 

Zyon lands carefully on top of Spike, as the youth attempts a sloppy cover with his back.

 

ONE…

 

TWO…bridge up.

 

Spike summons the brute strength the slowly lift his body off the mat by using Zyon’s vertical force for leverage. The straight edger spins his body around pulling the Unique Youth into a gut wrench position. Lifting with his legs, Spike forces Zyon into the air with his back resting on the shoulder of the former Revolution Zero member. Jenkins takes a moment to decide what type of damage to insult Zyon’s health with, but a moment is a long time to hold a speed demon in the air. The youth fidgets and shakes until the straight edger loses his grip, and allows Zyon to land cleanly on his feet…with his arm wrapped around the head of Spike! The veteran cruiser flails to get free, but Zyon quickly ends all attempts by dropping to his knees, and spiking Spikes back down on his back with a tremendous 3.0 back breaker! Zyon declines the chance to cover Spike who must be confused at the latest turn of events that have influences his career in what many strong critics murmur as negative. The high flying youngster once again takes to the ring apron as he begins to stomp his feet getting quite the reaction from the Arabic audience.

 

YEAHHHH!

 

“Zyon continues to gain fan support…”

 

“As well as advantage over his ally.”

 

The two announcers actually work together as Spike slowly rises to his feet just in time to notice the former hardcore champion float through the air with a springboard cross body attempt. Jenkins’s eyes drop as does his body intelligently avoiding the HIIIIIGH cross body…

 

CRASH!

 

Zyon falls to the stomach first, once against smacking his gut on the unforgiving canvas. The youth recklessly rises to his feet while still doubled over giving Spike the chance to rise to the occasion, and lock his opponent in a front face lock looking to drop Zyon with a DDT possibly? Well the crowd is left wondering as Zyon lifts and bridges backward performing an unusually crisp northern lights suplex!!!

 

ONE…

 

TWO…kickout.

 

Jenkins continues to stay in the match as the sweaty youth rises back to his feet waiting for his ally to follow suit. Spike takes his time, but eventually makes it to a vertical base, which allows Zyon to stride forward and place a well-aimed boot to his opponent’s stomach. Spike conventionally doubles over allowing the youth to wrap both hands around the head of Spike before driving him face first to the mat! Picking up the pace, Zyon sprints to the outside once against placing himself on the ring apron before launching himself into the air with yet another springboard. The high risking youngster floats through the air taking the time to extend his legs for an elevated leg drop of some sort, but SPIKE MOVES…

 

…Zyon though drops his legs vertically before landing on his feet, which in turn causes his knee to buckle. Zyon desperately loses his balance dropping to one knee giving Spike the OPENING HE NEEDS! The veteran cruiserweight drives his right leg backward before throwing it forward with the speed and strength of Superman…

 

…Oh and Batman fan boys please stop your crying.

 

Zyon watches as time slows down, and the extremely powerful kick heads his way….

 

CCCCCCCCCRRRRRSWISH????

 

Spike rolled the dice, and sadly came up with snake eyes as the Unique Youth drops his head nearly having it DECAPITATED, but it was not to be. Jenkins once again spins around, and meets a Zyon forearm that forces the older youngster back into the ropes. Zyon is visibly licking his lips as he unleashes a HELLACIOUS chop across the chest of his opponent.

 

SMAAAAAACK!!!!

 

WHOOOOOOO!

 

The crowd responds as Spike clutches his chest.

 

“I can’t believe I could be enjoying a Zyon match so much, but the sheer domination of Spike definitely puts a smile on my face.” King still holds a certain hatred for Spike since his face turn.

 

The youth latches on to the left arm of his opponent before forcing Spike into an Irish whip. The straight edger bounces back into Zyon who launches Jenkins into the air with an elevated back body drop, BUT SPIKE LANDS ON HIS FEET!!!

 

YEEAAAAHHHH!

 

“What athleticism by Hollywood Spike Jenkins.” Pete speaks on the counter.

 

The sudden crowd explosion signals for Zyon to turn around into Jenkins who scoops Zyon into the air, and drops the youth with a slam. Jenkins immediately lifts the groggy youth to his feet before whipping Zyon back first into the upper right turnbuckle. Spike patiently walks toward his stunned opponent before surprising the audience by morphing his calm walk into a desperate dash…BIG MISTAKE! Zyon’s eyes widen as the idea of a counter flashes through his knowledge-craving mind. The Patron Wrestler of Athens takes a step out from the turnbuckle flowingly dropping Spike face first into the middle turnbuckle with a surprising drop toehold. Zyon continues his offensive war on his friend as he latches on to the top rope, and unorthodoxly launches himself into the air placing both feet into the BACK OF SPIKE’S HEAD CRUSHING HIS SKULL…OH MY INVISIBLE RELIGIOUS FIGUREHEAD THAT MAY OR MAY NOT EXIST!!!

 

“Holy fricken damn!” King has a way with words.

 

Spike lifelessly drops falls back to the canvas as Zyon covers his ally…

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

“This has to be it…” Pete trails off…

 

THR…foot on the rope!

 

Jenkins’s unconsciously drapes his foot across the bottom rope thus preventing the match ending three count. Zyon has a slight look of disbelief….

 

“Zyon proves he is still very much a rookie in the world of wrestling as he made the cover with Spike’s prone body too close to the ropes…what an idiot.” King scoffs.

 

The Unique Youth carefully lifts the always-dangerous Jenkins to his feet, and Irish whips the veteran into the ropes. Zyon aims a clothesline toward his friend who ducks the shot and puts on the breaks. Zyon turns into a jumping roundhouse THAT HE barely ducks under causing Spike’s back to be exposed. Zyon though spins around, and attempts an arrogant discus punch that Spike counters with a hate filled SLAP TO THE FACE!!!!

 

OOOOOOOO!

 

The crowd echoes as Zyon’s eyes scroll to the canvas before connecting with the smirking face of his ally.

 

Wait a tick…smirking?

 

“King look…” Pete trails off.

 

“Spike looks quite pleased with his bad sportsmanship.” King points out.

 

The former warm eyes of once a cold warrior has depressingly reformed as they pierce through Zyon’s shocked expression. The former hardcore champion calmly rubs the handprint located on his right cheek as both men take a moment to work things out.

 

Remember how long a moment is.

 

SMACK!!!!!

 

Spike THROWS ANOTHER SLAP!!!

 

“What the hell Spike?” Pete shouts.

 

Pain stricken, Zyon can only glare at the bitter opponent that currently stands before him. Jealous, and enraged Spike simply holds out his sweaty palm and motions for his energetic opponent to “Just Bring It.”

 

Consider it brought.

 

Zyon furious at his “friend” steps forward and delivers a wild lariat that Spike easily ducks through choosing to let Zyon face forward before snapping off YET ANOTHER DISPICABLE SLAP!!!!

 

“I can’t believe this. Has the REAL Spike returned from his dormant?” King questions Spike’s current mindset.

 

However, Zyon could careless about his opponent’s personality issues as the youth kicks Spike in the thigh. The straight edger strikes back with a powerful shotei palm strike that knocks Zyon back into the turnbuckle. The former cruiserweight champion shakes away the cobwebs before attempting to retaliate with a right hand that Spike easily blocks before blasting the youth with another powerful shotei! Zyon leaves his feet for a moment before gravity pulls him back down to his wobbly feet giving both men a chance at the first strike.

 

SMACKKKK!

 

WHOOOOO!

 

Spike is the first to blast his opponent with another wicked chop. Zyon doubles over clutching his chest as Jenkins uses his right hand and pushes the youth back into a vertical base…before slamming his knee into the gut of the youngster! The wounded youth staggers out from the turnbuckle unsure on how to fight against the new Spike Jenkins. Evil and cruel, Spike leaps into the air before delivering a scissors kick down on to his “student.” Zyon’s face smashes into the mat, as the impact of the kick is evident from the LOUD smack. The former hardcore champion can only clutch the back of his head while Spike hurls Zyon back to his feet via pulling the youth up by his hair. Smirking, Spike viciously whips Zyon CHEST first into the turnbuckle…

 

SMASH!

 

Zyon immediately falls to the mat clutching his chest as Spike runs toward the ropes and uses the middle one as a springboard before twisting in the air and dropping a straight edge leg drop across the throat of his fallen “friend.” The youth holds his throat gagging on the feeling of having his throat damaged slightly. Zyon quickly rolls out of the ring to try and gather himself.

 

“This match has taken a drastic turn.” Pete obviously iterates.

 

Coughing and in a slight daze, the youth pulls himself to a standing position only to have his FACE CAVED IN by a Spike Jenkins baseball slide!!! The impact from the two footed adrenaline rush blasts Zyon into the SWF safety barrier. Referee Nick Soapdish attempts to stop Spike from exiting the ring, but his discrepancies fall on deaf ears. The new straight edge sensation exits the ring and stalks his wounded prey. Many fans in the front row scream out random slurs that most can’t understand because of the native language. However, some gather the intestinal fortitude to show Spike the middle finger, but the straight edger has more important things to worry about. Spike grasps Zyon’s arm using it to whip Zyon back first into the ring apron…OUCH! The youth’s back contorts on impact causing the lightweight to drop to the ground on all fours.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

THREE

 

“Referee Soapdish has finally decided to start the twenty count. He must enjoy watching Zyon take a beating like I do” Guess who.

 

Spike looks down on his fallen “ally” before snorting toward the disgusted crowd.

 

BOOOOO!

 

The crowd actually jeers the rebel who responds by blasting Zyon in the ribs with a soccer punt.

 

“Gah…”

 

Zyon grunts as Spike forces the youth to his feet, giving him no time to relax.

 

FOUR

 

FIVE

 

SIX

 

The irritated Jenkins places Zyon’s body straight up forcing it to lie against the steel ring post. Spike takes a step back before spinning, and attempting to CRUSH ZYON’S SKULL with a ROARING ELBOW! Zyon with less than a second to spare falls to the ground dodging the move entirely. Spike’s eyes widen as his elbow comes *This* close to blasting the unbreakable steel post. However, Spike stops himself as Zyon pulls himself to his feet. Almost laughing, Spike blindly fires his elbow backward connecting with the face of his delirious opponent. Zyon forcefully clutches his face as his legs begin to shake from the pressure. The angry straight edge sensation shrugs his shoulder arrogantly before grabbing the head of his “friend” and slamming it into the ring post…SICK!!!

 

“Spike what is your problem?” Pete can barely get out.

 

Spike rolls back into the ring before tossing up his infamous “X” symbol, which garners a massive amount of jeers.

 

SEVEN

 

Zyon looks to be unconscious on the floor after having his head smashed into the cold steel of the post.

 

EIGHT

 

NINE

 

TEN

 

ELEVEN

 

TWELVE

 

THIRTEEN

 

FOURTEEN

 

“Let’s Go Zyon!!!”

 

The famous chants break out as Zyon begins to show signs of life.

 

FIFTEEN

 

SIXTEEN

 

SEVENTEEN

 

EIGHTEEN

 

The youth pulls himself up after having every muscle in his body tense from the strain. Inside the ring Spike welcomes the chance to torture his “ally” some more. Zyon staggers toward the ring apron before rolling into the ring, and quickly getting attacked by the deadly Jenkins. Spike immediately puts the boots to his opponent before lifting him to his feet. Jenkins whips Zyon into the ropes, and catches the youth on the way back with a hip toss attempt that works to perfection. Zyon lands on the bottom of his back causing the youth to instinctively sit up…not a good idea. Spike with attitude and all bounces off the ropes before delivering a power basement dropkick to the face of his hurt opponent.

 

CRACK!!!

 

“GAH!”

 

Zyon shouts before covering his face as Spike decided to try and win the match…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…kickout

 

Zyon ignores the pain for a moment as he kicks out of the half assed straight edge pin attempt.

 

“Let’s Go Zyon!”

 

“The crowd is fully behind Zyon now.” Pete points out.

 

“Who cares? Spike is a work of art. He is single handedly proving that crowd approval means nothing.” King could be right.

 

Sweat continues to poor from the stringy brow hair of the youth who continues to stay in the match physically. Spike though has firm control in both the physical and mental categories. Jenkins once again helps Zyon to his unsure feet before bouncing off the ropes and throwing a WICKED Yakuza kick that Zyon somehow rolls out of the way of. The youth pops up to his feet as the crowd does the same. Spike’s arrogant outlook has disappeared as he braces himself for what’s to come. Spike slowly turns as Zyon musters the strength to blast Spike with a right hand that has the dark hearted competitor reeling. Feeling the momentum changing, Zyon blasts Spike with a left hand this time before GETTING SMACKED IN THE FACE!!!!

 

“Spike is pissed!” King cheers.

 

The once honorable straight edge sensation stabs Zyon with a knee to the gut as he simultaneously drops a sharp elbow on the neck of his opponent. The Unique Youth reels to the side, as it is definitely a miracle he is still on his feet. Spike takes a second to spit on Zyon’s heart before dashing forward and placing a knee into the face of his opponent this time forcing Zyon to the mat! The wounded youth lifts himself up to his knees, which once again is a horrible idea proven by this…

 

SMACK!!!!!!

 

Hollywood places a STIFF kick to Zyon’s chest causing the youth’s face to turn a slight red. Spike isn’t done though as he unleashes another DEVASTATING kick that could cause some massive bruising to Zyon’s chest. Before Zyon can pass out from the pain, Spike attempts his final knockout blow to complete the punishable three-kick combo…

 

CRRRRRRSWISH!

 

Zyon ducks the blow, but Spike immediately runs off the ropes just as Zyon pulls himself up. The youth turns to see Spike lunge forward and use his knee as a springboard before kicking the youth in the back of the head with an amazing Dangerous Wizard!!! Zyon falls to both knees before lifelessly dropping to the mat, as the crowd cannot believe that Spike may have just won the match. Jenkins takes his time turning Zyon on his back before making the cover…

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE…shoulder up!

 

The youth refuses to die as Spike scratches his head while lifting the youngster to his feet. Jenkins jabs Zyon in the gut before feeling the effect of a desperate Zyon forearm! Spike was obviously caught off guard, but that fact does not stop Zyon from firing off another forearm that knocks Spike backward into the ropes.

 

YEAHHHH!

 

The crowd explodes as Zyon dashes toward the stunned Spike who rebounds by back body-dropping Zyon over the ropes, but the hero to many lands on the ring apron safely. The youth immediately slugs Spike in the back of the head causing Jenkins to stagger forward while Zyon shakes the pain of punching rock hard skull away. Fatigued, Zyon takes to the air with a springboard as he slowly brings back is arm for a dramatic forearm attack, but instead falls into a destined snap power slam!!!!

 

“What a counter…just amazing.” Pete kind of shills.

 

Spike rolls off avoiding the cover. The bitter sensation grabs Zyon by the hair using it as leverage to force the youth back to his feet before locking his arm around Zyon’s and locking his leg around Zyon’s to complete an abdominal stretch!

 

“GAH!”

 

Zyon shouts as past wounds from this match alone come back to haunt the youngster while Spike brings the PRESSURE!!!

 

“Let’s go Zyon!”

 

The crowd screams as Zyon’s face grimaces with pain. Spike continues to pull back hoping to damage his “friend” as much as possible before getting the tap out victory. Zyon though is just as stubborn as his opponent as he attempts to shake free of Spike’s mediocre grip. Due to fatigue and pain Spike’s grip does indeed loosen leading to Zyon flipping Spike over with a hip toss. However, the degenerate straight edger lands on his feet proving he is still very light on his feet. Zyon though maintains the hook he has on Spike’s arm and twists the man from Hollywood into his other arm that is placed across the chest of his opponent. Zyon then quickly locks his foot around Spike’s before falling backward with DECLINE!!!!!!

 

“He got him?? I can’t believe it.” King is shaken.

 

Zyon though is too weak to make the cover as he simply rolls away from Spike’s barely motioned body. Referee Nick Soapdish does his duty by starting a ten count.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

THREE

 

FOUR

 

FIVE

 

Spike begins to stir, as does Zyon.

 

SIX

 

SEVEN

 

Zyon makes it up to one knee breaking the count as he climbs to a vertical base. Spike also makes it up to one knee, and that is all. Courageous and ready to end it, Zyon impatiently strides toward Spike who POPS TO HIS FEET before placing his arm across the throat of Zyon before dropping to his knees blasting Zyon’s throat with his bulky shoulder!!!!

 

“YES! The Minor Threat, Pete.” King shills.

 

Spike refuses to make the mistake that Zyon made as he rolls on to the youth with a lateral press.

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

THR…foot on the rope????

 

Spike does indeed make a previous Zyon mistake though. The youth after the Minor Threat flopped over to the ropes before Spike went for the pin. Jenkins pushes Zyon on to the ring apron with his foot before exiting to the ring apron himself. Carefully balancing himself, Spike lifts Zyon to his feet. The straight edge sensation proceeds to kick Zyon in the gut before placing the youth in a dreaded standing head scissor!!!

 

“Oh my…” Pete refuses to finish.

 

The crowd begins to whisper as Jenkins throws both arms into the air in an “X” signaling he is going for the RATINGS CRASH OFF THE APRON!!! Zyon though will have none of that as he back drops Spike back first on to the ring apron.

 

CRACK!

 

That would be Jenkins’s spine colliding with the apron. Zyon uses the ropes as a crutch while Spike rolls back into the ring. Fatigued and beaten Zyon continues to rest on the apron giving Spike the chance to rise to his feet. The sensational straight edger pivots his foot before whipping his arm back and firing it forward with a dangerous lariat that Zyon ducks out of the way off. The youth with the opening he needs slingshots himself over the ropes and latches his arm around the head of Spike as he twists through the air before trying to drive Jenkins to the mat with a Bring Me Down DDT! Spike though grabs the top rope…

 

SMASH!!!

 

That would be the back of Zyon’s head hitting the canvas. Zyon attempts to pull himself up with help from the ring ropes, but Spike kicks the youngster back down to the mat. Finally, Spike “helps” Zyon back to his feet by yanking on the wounded youth’s hair. Tired and morally depressed, Spike finds it in himself to continue to respect Zyon…

 

….SMACK!

 

Ok, that respect part…yeah that’s definitely false. Spike AGAIN jacks Zyon in the face with an open handed slap. Spike chooses to Irish whip Zyon into the ropes, but Zyon latches on to the top rope and stops himself from shooting back toward his opponent. Breathing heavily, Zyon taunts Spike who brainlessly charges the youth who leaps into the air and places both feet into the chest of his opponent with a SNAPPPPP dropkick!!!! Spike’s momentum shoots himself backward as his chest caves in, and he falls to the mat gasping for air. Zyon looks out into the crowd with glazed eye as if telling them that they ARE NOT under any circumstances going to see the kip up that follows the flashy front dropkick. Once again using the ropes, Zyon pulls himself to his feet before as if on instinct sprinting forward and spring boarding off the middle rope with his Half Moon moonsault just as Spike rolls out of the way. The youth though continues to flip through the air landing on his feet.

 

“Both men continue to try and out due each other even if they are both low on gas.”

 

“And brain cells. Don’t forget brain cells.”

 

Spike rises to his feet as Zyon turns around…BAM!!! Spike throws a wicked yet desperate Last Dance super kick that lands flush on Zyon’s jaw knocking the youngster through the middle rope and on to the ring apron. Spike drops to one knee trying to catch his breath while Zyon randomly waves his hand toward the ropes trying to get a grasp on the ring rope as well as reality. Dazed and beaten Zyon uses the top rope to pull himself up before entering the ring WITHOUT any sort of springboard!

 

“LET’S GO ZYON!!!”

 

The crowd shouts giving the youth the courage to charge Spike with a lariat, which Jenkins counters into the HIGHLIGHTER POSITION!!!!!!

 

“WHAT!” Both commentators shout.

 

Spike takes a moment to summon the strength to lift Zyon, and that blink of an eye is all it takes for Zyon to counter suddenly by taking Spike to the mat with an arm bar…

 

…That is transitioned into a sloppy COBRA CROSSFACE!!!!

 

“HEY! That’s Ejiro’s move!” King defends the former world champion.

 

“King you would be correct. Zyon must have been heavily influenced by the former world champion, as he calls his version the Imperfect Design!” Pete brings the insider info.

 

“TAP!”

 

The crowd chants repeatedly as Spike’s free arm flails like mad. The youth pulls back with all his might trying to get his “ally” to tap out to his sloppy yet damaging submission maneuver. The crowd can FEEL Jenkins tap as the straight edger slowly lifts his hand into the air…

 

 

 

 

 

And then it happens…

 

 

 

 

SPIKE ROLLS OVER FORCING ZYON ON HIS BACK WITH HIS SHOULDERS PINNED TO THE MAT!!!!

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE…kickout!

 

“YES…wait. NO!” King screams.

 

Both men break free and rise to their respective feet, and surprisingly enough Zyon is the aggressor as he runs up and drills Jenkins with a kick to the gut. Spike basically falls into a standing head scissor as Zyon lifts Spike into the air driving the older youngster into the mat with a MASSIVE POWERBOMB!!!!

 

“That’s a move Zyon’s doesn’t use often.” Pete informs the audience.

 

The youth lifelessly falls on top of Spike hoping for the three count.

 

ONE!!!

 

“one!”

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

“two!”

 

THR…kickout

 

BOOOOO!

 

Jenkins stuns the crowd and his opponent by keeping the match going. Zyon looks down on his opponent before deciding to head toward the turnbuckle and ascend them! The youth makes it to the top rope just as Spike rises to his feet. Fate laughs at the pupil who looks discouraged to say the least. Zyon leaps off the turnbuckle, and falls into the clutches of Jenkins who locks Zyon up in a T-Bone position before throwing Zyon over with said move. Jenkins wastes no time as HE goes over to the turnbuckle and ascends the stairway to victory or possible mistake.

 

“Could Spike be busting out the Ratings Grabber????” King hopes his question is answered successfully.

 

“Zyon is awfully close for the frog splash…” Pete trails off.

 

Spike stares Zyon’s carcass down a moment before balancing himself on the top rope. The fans whip out the Kodak cameras as Spike leaps off the turnbuckle like a meteor crashing to the Earth, as he crashes down on to Zyon with the…

 

…You’re kidding me.

 

….THE FINAL FLASH??????

 

YEAHHHHH!

 

The crowd explodes after the Unique Straight Edger Spike Jenkins just performed Zyon’s finishing move. Spike is unable to go for the cover as he clutches his back because of the pain caused from the impact. Everyone in the arena is stunned as Spike finally falls backward and attempts to win the match.

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEE…NO!

 

Zyon barely gets a shoulder up, as Spike is absolutely livid. The smirk is certainly gone, and all that is left is questions with no answers. The Unique Youth begins to show motion as Spike helps Zyon to a vertical base. The youth resurrects his spirits by breaking Jenkins’s grip and delivering a right hand, but the charismatic Jenkins retaliates by leaping into the air and attempting a hurricarana. Spike pulls backward and gets Zyon over!!!

 

But wait.

 

The youth rolls forward as the legs of Spike remain tied up behind the head of his opponent. The youth makes it to a vertical base as he steps over the arms of the former cruiserweight champ. Snapping his head back, Zyon causes his “friend’s” legs to drape over his shoulder…oh my gawd. With Spike elevated upside down, Zyon leaps forward driving Jenkins into the mat with his own finishing maneuver!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Did Zyon just use the Ratings Crash? Pete sounds exhausted.

 

Zyon barely rolls Spike over into the pinning combination that ends the move.

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

YEAHHHH!

 

The crowd shills only to realize that Spike kicked out before the three count. Zyon freaks out by blasting the mat with his fist before rising to his feet.

 

“My god, is Zyon actually showing the emotion of anger.” King is also exhausted.

 

The youth shakes his head from side to side as he begs for Spike to rise to his feet. After a few moments the straight edger stands on his spaghetti legs as he staggers into Zyon who scoops Spike up into the AERO DRIVVVVVVAAAA, but Spike FLOATS OVVVVVVVAAAAAA!!! Zyon’s eyebrow twitches as he turns into a Spike Jenkins boot to the gut. Defenseless, Spike traps Zyon into a standing head scissor before locking on the double underhook.

 

“Spike…no….” Pete whispers.

 

Willing to do whatever it takes, Spike tosses Zyon into the air before getting under the youth and placing him on his shoulder with Zyon’s face facing the lights. Suddenly, the crowd is frightened for the youngster as Spike’s rabid eyes look like that of a serial killers. The friendly bout has manifested into something much more, and it may end in poetic tragedy. Spike takes a step forward ready to KILL Zyon, but then his cold eyes lock on to a sign in the crowd.

 

“Spike Jenkins = Ratings!!!!”

 

The ruthless Jenkins pauses, and suddenly the warm eyes of the happier Spike appears to have taken center stage once again. Zyon uses this opportunity to break free rolling down Spike’s back and hooking the changed man in a crucifix pin attempt.

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Amazing…” Pete whispers.

 

DING

 

DING

 

DING!!!!

 

“The winner ZYYYYON!”

 

Funyon announces as “Vitamin” booms across the arena.

 

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

 

The crowd erupts as Zyon rises to his feet triumphantly raising his arms and pointing to the audience. Spike remains on the canvas looking up at Zyon without the slightest motion of resentment or jealousy. The new straight edge sensation emerges to his feet, and smiles toward the Unique Youth who takes a moment to acknowledge Spike for who he was, and who he is now.

 

Hollywood Spike Jenkins with a smile on his face extends his hand (!!!)

 

“NO SPIKE. You fool.” King is drowning in the cheesiness of it all.

 

Zyon glossy eyed extends his as well…and the two warriors shake on a fantastic match up. Spike claps his hands as he exits the ring and heads to the back giving Zyon his moment of glory.

 

“What a match…” Both announcer sigh…

 

Zyon leans against the ropes looking up at the lights as the SWF goes to commercial…

Edited December 19, 2005 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

“Fans,” Pete starts out “Our next match is a feud that’s gotten very hot, very quickly”

 

“Like a Mexican hooker in the sun” King adds with a straight face totally ignoring Pete’s double take at that comparison.

 

“Let’s take you back and show you just how we got to where we are today.” Pete says as the SmarkTron takes us all back several weeks. The video shows Bruce Blank being interviewed backstage by Ben Hardy.

 

My Cruiserweight Challenge opponent is . . . Jyushin . . . Thunder . . . Lyger!!

 

The highlight video turns black and white as it cuts to the the following Smarkdown and Bruce’s Open Cruiserweight Challenge.

 

Jyushin Lyger bends over to look at the scale, and Bruce throws a clubbing blow to the back of the neck of his masked opponent. Bruce throws Lyger into the turnbuckle with enough force to knock his wig off.

 

Akira Kaibatsu rushes to ringside, to his idol’s aid. Bruce dashes out of the ring, steering clear of The Divine Wind while focusing on Lyger. When Akira goes over to Lyger, he bumps into his head and Lyger’s red mask falls off, revealing that it’s Ced Ordonez.

 

The music in the video rapidly gets faster, and speeds up the following of the feud. Footage of Akira’s payback as Villano XVII is show next followed by Bruce’s plot involving Toshiaki Taue attacking after faking an injury.

 

The video ends with Bruce Blank grunting the words “Dog Collar . . .” while holding a chain up in the air.

 

“Who could mistake Ced Ordonez as Jyushin Thunder Lyiger?” Pete questions.

 

“That takes real talent. Real talent, Pete” King replies with a knowing smirk.

 

”Well every time that I come home nobody wants to let me be

It seems that all the friends I got just got to come interrogate me”

”Well, I appreciate your feelings and I don't want to pass you by

But I don't ask you about your business, don't ask me about mine”

 

The Saudi crowd immediately begins to boo as Lynyrd Skynyrd kicks in over the PA System heralding the arrival of the defending Ultraviolent champion in their holy building. After a few moments Lynyrd greatness Bruce steps into the spotlight, Ultraviolent title wrapped around his waist and a very confident, cocky Bruce peeking out from under the brim of his cowboy hat.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

“If you thought they were hostile before then you ain’t seen nothing just yet” The Suicide King comments as he notices Bruce’s “USA Numba 1” T-shirt that he obviously wore to piss as many people off as possible.

 

“We may have a riot on our hands before this is over King” Pete says as he looks at the crowd a little worried.

 

”Well its true I love the money and I love my brand new car

I like drinkin' the best of whiskey and playing in a honky tonk bar

But when I come off the road, well I just got to have my time

'Cause I got to find a break in this action, else I'm gonna lose my mind”

 

Bruce heads towards the ring as he finishes taping his fists off, he tears off the silvery roll of duct tape and then throws it into the crowd with a loud “Merry Christmas” that the crowd doesn’t seem to appreciate.

 

DIE BRUCE DIE!! DIE BRUCE DIE!!

 

„So much hostility, it’s the season of love“ King remarks as the crowd really hates on Bruce.

 

“Wrong religion King, they don’t celebrate Christmas” Pete corrects his colleague for the 10th time.

 

“Not my fault they didn’t pick the religion with the presents and the great TV specials”

 

”So, don't ask me no questions

And I won't tell you no lies

So, don't ask me about my business

And I won't tell you goodbye”

 

Once Bruce enters the ring the music dies down so that Funyon can make his introduction for the Ultraviolent title match.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is an Ultraviolent title match fought under DOG COLLAR CHAIN MATCH RULES!!!” Fuyon explains as the angry crowd calms down a little

 

“Standing at 6 feet 7 inches, Two Hundred and Nintey Five pounds . . . From Dirty Tornado Trailer Park in Mobile Alabama, the Ultraviolent champion…THIS…IS…BRUCEEEEEEE BLAAAAANK!!” Funyon bellows to make sure everyone notices he’s speaking into the Microphone.

 

The negative reaction dies down and is replaced with a more positive reaction as Akira Kaibatsu, and his manager Mr. Kobe enter the holy building. Akira starts to walk down to the ring, but turns to his manager, and begins to whisper in Japanese, pointing to the back.

 

“He wants to get rid of his manager?!” King doesn’t think the rookie can go without him.

 

‘Well, in a Dog Collar match, this could easily go to the outside, and Bruce is certainly not above attacking the non-wrestler.” Pete replies thinking it’s a good idea to get Mr. Kobe out of harms way.

 

Mr. Kobe nods his head, and slowly heads toward the back, wishing Akira god speed.

 

Akira has the Dog Collar already strapped around his neck, and is holding the other part of it in his hand, shaking it back and forth. On his way towards the ring he starts to mock Blank’s southern redneck antics, prancing, and whirling the Dog Collar, trying to catch Blank like he was roping cattle.

 

Blank takes off his cowboy hat, obviously a little angry at Akira’s last gesture, but holding it in. He can save it for the bloody match bound to follow.

 

Akira rolls under the bottom rope, the dog collar dragging along the ground behind. Referee Nick Soapdish goes over to Akira and drags the other end of the collar back in the ring, and heads over to Blank.

 

Blank strokes his dirty mullet back, looking very calm considering the gruesome nature of the match. Akira looks visibly more nervous. Like a fish out of water, Akira is a technical wrestler after all, stepping into Bruce Blank’s back yard. Akira grasped part of the Dog Collar in front of him, and began to wonder if Jyushin Lyger - Even if it had really been Lyger - was worth THIS.

 

Akira drops the chain, and puts all doubt behind him, jogging in place, as Funyon booms “Standing at an even six feet, one hundred and ninety five pounds, fighting out of Sendai Japan . . . “THE DIVINE WIND” . . . AKIRAAAAA KAAIIIIBATSUUUUUUUUUUU”

 

At the sound of his name, Akira takes a step forward, and raises his arm, for a crowd pop after all he’s not American and he’s hoping to take Bruce down a peg or two.

 

Nick Sopadish backs up, and the time keeper rings the bell.

 

*DING*DING*DING*

 

Both men back up into adjacent corners, stretching the chain out, not so that it’s completely taut, but there’s no loose slack either on the 10 foot chain. Akira is looking for some sort of strategy in the match, grabs the chain, and begins to try and pull Blank towards him. Obviously though, the 295 lb Blank isn’t going anywhere.

 

“Akira really doesn’t know what he’s going to do with this match.” King calls the action as he sees it.

 

“Akira is a very smart wrestler for someone who hasn’t been in the sport for that long. Coming into this match he probably thought it was a match like any other, but now that he’s here . . .” Pete adds as Akira isn’t able budge Bruce.

 

“But is there really any strategy in a match like this? Isn’t it just beating your opponent senseless?” King asks back.

 

Akira tries to go to the outside, to think about this match a little more, but when he gets on the ring apron, Blank pulls back, and Akira goes flying backwards and upside down. Not hard enough to keep him on the ground for long as he gets right back up, but he’s met with a fist full of steel to the forehead.

 

“Akira eats the chain early!” Pete exclaims.

 

That shot sends Akira to his knees, and he tries to get back up quickly, but Blank is quicker, and sends another steel chain punch to the head. Akira goes down, and Blank goes to pick him up almost immediately, and Irish Whips him. Akira bounces off, and is this time met with a clothesline of steel!

 

“This one is starting out hot and heavy!” Pete cries.

 

“Isn’t that a song?”

 

Pete avoids the question, and continues to call the action

 

Akira is sent straight to his back, and arches upwards in pain, screaming. Akira rolls over, trying to make his way to the ropes, to get out of the ring, but Blank will have none of it. He uses the loose chain to whip Akira across the back and soon numerous red lines appear across Kaibatsu’s back.

 

Blank is out to end this one early, and hooks the chain around Akira’s neck, and begins to pull backwards for a camel clutch with the chain!

 

“Oh god, he’s choking the life out of Kaibatsu!” Pete shrieks.

 

“Well that’s what you get for not doing your homework, it’s a no DQ match so Bruce can do whatever he wants.”

 

Luckily for Akira, Blank let’s go of the choke, and throws The Divine Wind out of the ring and follows him to the floor. Bruce holds Akira by the chain and dog collar and guides him around the ring. Eventually he gets around to the corner and slams Akira’s head into the ring post.

 

Akira lies around the corner, as Blank goes to the side next to it, and taunts to the crowd, admiring his won dominance. Akira slowly gets up, but he crosses his legs to do so . . . and he isn’t facing Blank, so problems occur for the puroresu star. Blank sees this strange situation, and he pulls back on the chain.

 

“Ohh! He just crotched Akira with that chain!” Pete is disgusted.

 

YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!

 

Blank doesn’t quite ignore the chants, it actually appears he enjoys them. He never thought of his wrestling style making him a sick fuck but he doesn’t seem to object to it.

 

“Imagine the Lockdown fans doing this chant.” King laughs.

 

Akira is far from laughing though, as Blank just picked him up by the mask. He once again drags Akira over to the guard rail. Blank wraps his arms around Akira, like a buddy would . . . but this is far from friendly and Bruce hits a Russian Leg Sweep driving Akira into the guard rail!

 

*KRESH*

 

Bruce is still going though and once again uses the mask to pick up The Divine Wind. Being the redneck he is, he is too lazy to come up with something actually innovative, so he just decides to go for regular carnage—Throwing Akira into the guardrail, head first.

 

Akira rolls over after that attack, and reveals a long gash along his forehead, where the top of his mask doesn’t cover. Moments later blood starts run down Akira’s face although the mask soaks up most of it right now.

 

“Oh man Akira is busted open” Pete points out.

 

“That cut looks pretty big. Doesn’t look too bad now, but it will. Trust me”

 

Bruce saw the damage his last Russian Leg Sweep did, so he decides it might not be a bad idea if he tries it again. So he drags Akira over to another side of ring—Just to mix it up— and wraps his arm around again. Falls backwards, and the move is completed.

 

Akira’s cut seems to have been touched by something, as the crimson is now flowing loosely. Bruce doesn’t care though, he just turns over to the time keeper to borrow the ring bell. Blank turns back around in the same second Akira throws an elbow at Bruce’s jaw! Another! And another—No, Blank ducks under it, and then nails Akira across the face with the ring bell.

 

“Akira showed signs of life there. Almost enough for a comeback!” Pete shouts excitedly, hoping he might get to see Akira make a marvelous effort, but he shouts in a manner of a kid who wanted a Power Ranger for Christmas, but got He-Man in stead.

 

Akira seems to be momentarily lifeless on the floor, next to Blank. Blank has priorities though, and he decides the floor needs some redecorating, so he adds a nice wooden table. Bruce struggled to set it up though and it actually takes him a while to get the table set up right. This gives Akira enough time to sit up, and try at another comeback . . . But Blank takes the chain and begins to choke Akira again.

 

“Akira is relentless. It’s like someone is shooting him, and he just wont die.” Pete makes an analogy, like all play by play guys do.

 

“Yeah, but then he gets shot again . . .” King is there to make sense of an otherwise ridiculous analogy.

 

Blank throws the table into the ring. Whether that be to make more room on the outside, or to put someone through in the ring, no one is sure as of yet. The question is answered just as quickly as it was described, though, as Bruce throws Akira into the steel guard rail again, so it was just for more room.

 

“Maybe Akira really WAS biting off more than he could chew . . .” Pete begins to ponder.

 

Kaibatsu sits next to the guard rail, for SWF camera’s to easily get a view at his face. The blood from the cut flows down over his face behind the mask. The royal blue mask has been turned purple already, and blood even drips from the eye holes.

 

Bruce stays on the offense though, picking his opponent up by his now purple mask, and chucking him into the guard rail—the first one they were at in the beginning of the match. The two wrestlers made a complete turn around the ring, with Akira’s only offense so far being two elbows.

 

“It doesn’t look like Akira is going to be getting any offense through this whole match” Pete almost turns pessimistic “but there’s lots of action left!”

 

Blank takes a steel chair from someone in the front row and holds it up with two hands . . . he waves it high behind his head… and thrusts it down, smashing on Akira.

 

“This is just a down right ass kicking” King wallops. Akira had no business even making this challenge.

 

Bruce decides it’s about time he makes his way back into the ring, and throws Akira back in there ahead of him. Bruce quickly follows into the ring, and mounts on top of Akira. Bruce throws a punch at Akira’s open cut. Another. Once again. Two more times. Three more times. Finally he gets off of him, Bruce looks at his fists and sees Akira’s blood. Being the gentleman he is, he wipes it off. After that he heads straight for the table though, and he sets it up, so it’s leaning against the corner. Akira is slowly starting to get his life back, and it up to his knees.

 

Bruce runs over to Kaibatsu, and tries to grab him by the mask again, but—

 

“What the hell? Akira doesn’—“ King is cut off

 

“A low blow from Akira?! Way to turn the tide!”

 

Pete finally gets the comeback he’s been waiting for during the past 10 minutes.

 

Akira is up to his feet, and begins to wrap his fist in the steel chain that connects him to the Ultraviolent Champion. Akira winds up for the punch, but Blank sends a toe kick to Akira’s gut. Akira isn’t out of it though and he tries again, but Blank squirms out another toe kick. Blank is sick of the pattern, and runs at Kaibatsu, hitting a Knee lift to Akira’s face.

 

“There goes your comeback” King mocks.

 

Pete is speechless, and just watches for a few seconds.

 

“That was a might fine knee. Classic old school wrestling from The Ultra Violent champ.”

 

Akira is checking to see if he had any teeth knocked out from the knee strike, but Blank has something more diabolical than knocking teeth out planned. He goes back to his table, and positions it on the turnbuckle, nice and steady. Blank goes over to Akira, and laughs at him. Blank knows he’s going to win this match up soon. But to add insult to injury, he whips Akira into the table . . . But Akira holds on to Blank’s arm, reversing the motion, sending Blank flipping through the wood face first!

 

*CRACK!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

“There’s my comeback!” Pete sounds excited again, like he finally got that Power Ranger after all.

 

Blank is lying on the side apron, technically out of the ring, but not quite about to fall off. He grabs at his stomach, like he’s about to cough blood, but that’s obviously not going to happen. Akira isn’t exactly peaches and cream though either. The blood continues to run from the cut on his forehead. And with all the blood loss, and wearing a mask, breathing must be pretty difficult by now.

 

“How long has this match been going on for Petey?” King asks a seemingly irrelevant question

 

“I dunno, 15 minutes?”

 

“And it’s ALREADY total freaking chaos? Hell, we already had a “you sick fuck” chant!

 

Akira is the first to his feet, and he limps over to Bruce, and picks him up by the hair. He puts Blank in a front headlock, and then spins around, then he slams Bruce’s neck over his own knee, hitting the neckbreaker.

 

Akira seems to finally get a grasp on what to do with the chain, as he wraps it around his knee. At first he was trying to untangle himself, but he thought better of it. The chain was wrapped around his knee pretty thick . . . and then he hit a running knee drop to the head of Bruce!

 

“Ok, I’ll give Akira credit, he’s a fast learner” King admits.

 

Akira rolls to the side, unwrapping the chain over his knee, as Blank saw things working better for him on the other side of the floor, so he rolls back to the outside. When Akira finishes unwrapping, he follows Blank, and goes to the outside with him. Blank is dazed, and can’t throw a punch in, but Akira sure can. He throws an elbow, and then a forearm. Then he wraps the chain around his wrist, and throws a punch.

 

“It may not be the most creative of hardcore tactics, but it was effective. And Akira isn’t known for this hardcore stuff . . . so anything effective is an accomplishment.” Pete shills Akira’s on-the-spot hardcore education.

 

Akira once again takes something Bruce was doing earlier, and begins to choke Blank with the chain. After all, he knows first hand how painful it can be! Akira grasps the chain with one hand, choking Blank, and then with the other he begins to throw bionic elbows at the forehead of Blank. The elbows turn to forearms very soon, and a small gash forms at Blank’s forehead, in a similar spot to where Kaibatsu’s is.

 

Akira let’s go of the choke, but not without reason. He throws a series of knife edged chops at Bruce’s chest, and then rams him into the steel guard rail. Akira takes Blank by the hair after that guard rail throw . . . and chucks him across, all the way by where the entrance ramp is, to that guard rail.

 

“Both men are doing a good job using the guard rail as weapons” Pete compliments.

 

“Is that really an official strategy?”

 

Akira decides to have a little fun with Bruce, and grabs him by the hair, and drags him across the arena floor, to the other side of the guard rail. He then pushes with all his might, sending him into the crowd!

 

“Well, it’s the thing they’ve yet to do to do in this Dog Collar match” King calls.

 

“And we have tons of action left to go!”

 

One would think Akira would quickly follow Blank, but Akira decides instead to catch his breath. He realizes he needs all his energy to fight Blank in his hardcore environment, like a crowd.

 

Akira puts his hands on his knees, and — *Cling*Clang*

 

*BANG!*

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

Bruce pulls on the Dog Collar, and sends Akira driving into to guard rail! The move took a lot out of Blank though, so he remains out of breath when Akira steps over the guard rail. Akira throws forearms at Bruce, in the crowd. The camera begins to get shaky, and unsteady.

 

Akira grabs at Blank’s arm, and chucks it to the side, throwing an arm drag into a bunch of chairs! Akira begins to understand how hardcore wrestling strategies differ from a normal match . . . he finally gets it. Akira picks up a chair, and wraps it around Blank’s head.

 

“Akira’s choking the life out of Blank with that steel folding chair!” Pete cries out.

 

“Akira finally understands how hardcore wrestling does it’s business.”

 

Akira pulls the chair off of Blank’s head, and goes for a forearm, but this proves to be a mistake, as Blank throws the discarded chair at Akira’s face!

 

“And now Bruce is making a comeback!” Pete screams.

 

“Great back and forth action from both men”

 

Bruce grabs a hold of some chain, enough so that there is little slack between him and Akira, who rolled over 6 or 7 feet after the chair shot. Then he pulls on the chain, and Akira comes flying forwards, with Blank nailing a huge elbow smash!

 

Bruce steps over the guard rail again, back into the regular arena, but decides he’d give Akira a taste of his own medicine. Much like Akira to Blank, Bruce pulls the chain so that Akira runs right into the steel guard rail! But Bruce does it with enough force to send him over the barrier.

 

Blank seems tired, and throws a punch at Kaibatsu, but then he whips him right into the guard rail again, so he can catch his breath. Blank gets his hands off of his knees, and sends Akira back into the crowd.

 

“This is just an amazing battle King” Pete says boldly. “One hell of a fight.”

 

Blank puts Akira on an empty chair—The fan had to get out of the chair, SWF sells out on Christmas after all! Bruce puts a well placed boot on the face of Akira, and The Divine Wind’s head snaps back from the force. Bruce then busts forward with his forearm and nails Akira with a lariat, sending him off of the chair.

 

Blank turns around, to see a swarm of fans. He makes a sliding motion with his hands, and the Red Sea is reluctantly parted, to reveal bleachers behind them.

 

“You know Bruce is gonna find something to do with those bleachers” Pete says.

 

“He could sit in them I suppose.”

 

“Yeah, add insult to injury”

 

“Or maybe he’s tired, but that works too.”

 

Blank isn’t in a hurry to use the seats yet though, instead he asks a lucky fan to hold a chair for him. The fan, isn’t fond of Bruce . . . but who doesn’t want to be a part of SWF history by holding Bruce’s chair up in the air? Bruce grabs Akira by the mask, and throws his crimson face into the chair. The fan kind of grimaced, but he had fun with it, and got a pop for it!

 

Blank grabs Akira by the mask, and guides him all the way through the crowd, to another fan, wearing an old school ECW t-shirt, and gives the fan a chair.

 

“I was hoping to see some bleacher action” King sounds disappointed at the lack of innovation.

 

“At least the fans are happy.”

 

“Yeah, two of ‘em.”

 

Blank throws Akira into fan number 2, who backed up a little, but he got to be a part of SWF history, so it’s all good.

 

“Akira is at a huge disadvantage here. This is where Blank makes his living”

 

King says this, as Blank takes Akira, and slams his head into the first row of the bleachers. Bruce’s blood goes flying as he thrusts forward banging Akira’s head.

 

“There ya go King!”

 

“I’m still waiting on something cooler”

 

Blank goes up to the top stair of the Bleachers, and raises his arms, as if in victory.

 

“You haven’t won anything yet Bruce” Pete warns.

 

Bruce laughs, as he turns to the crowd, looking at the people he’s making happy, simply by bleeding. Bruce begins to open his mouth to talk, but—

 

*Cling*Clang*

 

Kaibatsu pulls on the 10 foot chain, and Blank comes slipping and sliding all the way down the bleachers! Blank comes somersaulting down, hitting his head and back on the bleachers, eventually landing on the hard ground.

 

“And the tide of the match switches once again!” Pete announces.

 

“Back and forth action at it’s best”

 

Akira gets up, and begins to stomp at Bruce’s head. Taking full advantage of the situation, Bruce took a nasty fall, on his head, so Akira kicks there. Not that he would have kicked anywhere else anyway. They are stomps after all.

 

Akira holds back on the kicks, and catches his breath for a second, but then gets back on the offensive. He grabs slack from the chain, and starts to whip Bruce in the back! Another whip! Bruce’s back has scratches of blood where the whipping occurred, as he squeals in pain.

 

“Just like that Akira is back on top of the situation!” Pete exclaims

 

“Not for long, Bruce knows exactly how to handle himself in these matches. He’ll come back.” King fires back.

 

“He won’t if Akira keeps whipping him”

 

Akira doesn’t take Pete’s advice - Probably because he can’t hear him - and discontinues the whipping, and picks up Bruce by the hair. Kaibatsu drags him over closer to the guard rail, and whips him into it. Akira walks over to Blank . . . but on the way finds a trash can. Not a metal one like you normally see as a weapon, but one where a fan seconds before put his half full Pepsi. Akira takes it with him, carrying it in one hand. He pushes Blank over the guard rail with his free hand. Akira steps over the guard rail. He sees an open chair, so he takes a step up, and stands on it. From there he chucks the trash can down at the back of Blank. Akira steps off if the chair, and throws Blank into the ring. He holds his hands behind his head, catching his breath again, and slides into the ring.

 

Akira lifts Blank by the hair, and shoves him over to the ropes, followed by an Irish Whip. Blank bounces back, and Akira catches him with an elbow. This sends Blank to the floor, but seems to have caught some chain on Akira’s elbow, as he comes up banging it. He shakes it of though.

 

Akira grabs the chain again, and continues to whip Blank. Akira stops the whipping short, and lifts Blank by the hair. Akira puts Blank in a front face lock, and drops him down to the ground, for a DDT.

 

“Woah! Guess we’re getting a wrestling move in this one!” King shouts in sarcasm.

 

Akira backs into the turnbuckle, and starts to jog in place, showing the crowd that he’s ready for anything Blank can throw at him, the adrenaline rushing through his body after finally having gotten the upper hand. Blank makes his way to his knees, and Akira trots up to him . . .

 

*CRACK!*

 

“Akira’s signature Shining Gamenguri!!!” Pete screams.

 

Kaibatsu limps his way up the turnbuckle, climbing to the top rope. He wants to go for his Senton Splash, but Blank gets up to quickly, so Akira delays. The chain is wrapped between his legs which makes it easy for Akira pulls back while on the ropes, crotching Bruce with the chain so that he falls to the ground.

 

Akira then moves from the 2nd rope to the 3rd rope. All the blood loss must have made him dizzy though, because he can’t seem to balance straight on the turnbuckle. He wobbles to the left, and when he’s about to fall over, he wobbles to the right. Finally he manages to set himself straight . . . but Blank pulls the chain back, and Akira goes flying off the rope, hitting the canvas hard!

 

“Akira took too much time setting up that move.” Pete says.

 

“Well, he is pretty dizzy in there.”

 

Both men reach there feet at around the same time. They confront each other, and begin to exchange blows. Akira gets an elbow, Blank nails a forearm. Then Blank gets another. One more. Blank then goes crazy with jabs. Jabbing like Ali. Then Blank spins in a complete circle, and nails Akira in the face with a Discus clothesline!

 

“We might be seeing a second or third wind here from Bruce Blank!” King shouts.

 

Kaibatsu no-sells the clothesline, and gets right back up, but he is met quickly by a running Bruce Blank clothesline. Kaibatsu wont stay down though, and rises again, not as fast as the first time though. He’s met with another rapid lariat.

 

Blank lifts up Akira, and whips him into the turnbuckle. Blank runs to the adjacent ropes, and hits a clothesline on Akira, who bounced off of the turnbuckle, ala Raven.

 

Akira no-sells another clothesline, but Blank is right back on the offensive, with flying clothesline that takes his opponent down hard. Blank makes a cover!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-NOROLLSOVER!

 

“Amazing, simply amazing. That’s the first cover of the match.” Pete proclaims.

 

Bruce gets up, and sees that he left a chair in the ring from the last time they were in there, and positions it sitting up, in the middle of the ring.

 

“What’s Blank going for now” King asks.

 

Bruce intends to answer that question through actions, as he whips Akira into the ropes. Akira bounces back, and Blank hits a drop toe hold into the chair.

 

WHAM!

 

Blank hooks a leg, and makes a cover!!!

 

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THR-ALMOST~!~!

 

“Bruce took a page out of Ravens book!” Pete shouts. “He’s throwing everything at Akira tonight!”

 

“Whether they are his moves or not, they’re effective, so he might as well use them.” King defends Bruce’s choice of moves. “What I want to know is how the hell did Akira kick out of that though?”

 

“He’s got heart that kid.” Pete says as the fans in the arena begin to chant for Akira, getting behind the display of heart and determination from the Divine Wind.

 

Blank looks at the fallen Akira, moves over, standing over him. Suddenly Akira is wiping his eye, as Bruce just hacked a loogey at him!

 

“Oh that’s gross” Pete shivers.

 

Bruce picks Akira up by the chain and whips him into the turnbuckle. Bruce throws punches at Kaibatsu, and then lifts him up, so he sits at the top rope, scoop slam style. Blank tries to climb up there with him, but Akira throws forearms at Blank, preventing him from doing so. Blank gets one more good shot in, but it lights a fire in Akira’s eyes, as Akira starts to go crazy with forearms, and elbows, and punches of all sorts. Hooks and Jabs. Uppercuts. Akira goes relentless with the strikes.

 

This puts him in control, so Akira double underhooks the arms of Blank from the 2nd ropes. He leaps into a spin . . . and sits out . . .

 

*THWAMPPPP*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

 

“Oh my god!” Pete shouts “Akira just hit a tornado It Came From Sendai!! Talk about pulling something out of the blue”

 

“Yeah… that’s where he pulled it from… the blue” King adds with a snide tone as Akira climbs up on top of Bruce for a cover.

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THR-NOTYET!!

 

Bruce’s left shoulder shoots off the mat just before Nick Soapdish’s hand hits the mat a third time. Akira can’t believe that Bruce kicked out and desperately tries to come up with a way to put Bruce down permanently. Inspiration strikes the Divine Wind as Bruce slowly gets up on his hands and knees, Akira gets up and straddles Bruce’s back and then swiftly wraps the chain around Bruce’s head twice and then tightens his grip on it putting the squeeze on Bruce.

 

“RIDE ‘EM COWBOY!!” Pete says as King just looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

 

The chain is wrapped around Bruce’s head in such a manner that the links of the chain dig into Bruce’s eyes and the bridge of his nose as Akira keeps twisting and pulling back on it, hoping to get Bruce to tap out from the immense pain.

 

“How much more can Bruce take? He must feel like his head is trapped in a vice – it must be excruciating!” says King as they watch Bruce blindly trying to find a rope somewhere.

 

“I think Bruce is forgetting the rules now, there are no rope breaks. Akira can’t be disqualified after all” Pete reminds the fans at home as Bruce puts his hand on the bottom rope.

 

Nick Soapdish cannot do anything but watch as Bruce holds onto the bottom rope desperately in need of a rope break. With victory in his clutches Akira sits down on Bruce’s lower back and starts to pull backwards on the chain around Bruce’s head, tightening it so much that small droplets of blood appear at the corners of Bruce’s eyes. With the pressure increased Bruce is really close to the edge, hand twitches several times as if he was contemplating tapping out, but so far he fights the urge.

 

“I didn’t think Akira had this in him” King says astonished at the level of brutality that Akira is displaying in the ring.

 

“What is it they say about desperate times and desperate measures eh King?” Pete asks without expecting an answer.

 

“They suck?”

 

After applying pressure to the chain for several minutes Akira decides that he needs to explore other avenues of attack and releases the chain around Bruce’s head. But the Trailerpark Messiah doesn’t get much time to breath as Akira kicks him in the gut with a sliding drop kick that knocks Bruce under the bottom rope to the floor. Akira quickly slides under the bottom rope as well but making sure he ends up on the opposite side of the ringpost.

 

“Did he miss his dive?” Pete asks, not sure what Akira has in mind

 

“I’m pretty sure he meant for that to happen” King comments as Akira impatiently waits for Bruce to get to his feet.

 

The moment Bruce is up Akira reaches through under the turnbuckles, grabs hold of the slack chain and pulls with all his power dragging Bruce forward towards the ring post. If Bruce hadn’t been able to get his hand up to block it he would have slammed face first into the ring post. Akira isn’t one to give up just because his plans failed, so the lighting quick Cruiserweight circles around behind Bruce, then slides under the bottom rope into the ring and quickly out under the ropes on the other side again.

 

“What the hell is he doing??” Pete asks as Akira pulls on the chain.

 

“He roped the bull!! He’s got Bruce tied to the ringpost” King says loudly as Akira’s plan is revealed.

 

Akira’s fast feet and fast thinking means that he’s got the chain wrapped around Bruce’s chest and is pinning him to the ringpost as he pulls on the chain. With a foot on Bruce’s chest the Divine Wind pulls back hard on the chain to keep Bruce immobilized as the fans chant for the Akira.

 

AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!! AKIRA!!

 

”The crowd here definitely appreciates this youngster’s heart and determination, he took a major beating early in the match but is mounting quite a comeback” Pete says as he tries to be heard over the fans.

 

“And he’s easter… they’re half eastern so he’s kinda the hometown guy” King says.

 

“Half eastern? It’s called the MIDDLE EAST! It’s got no more to do with Japan than the US has to do with say Columbia” Pete tries to explain.

 

“Ah yes - illegal immigrants and drugs, gotcha”

 

With one hand constantly pulling on the chain to keep Bruce at bay Akira manages to move over to the guardrail and pick up a chair with his left hand. Then he releases the chain and grabs the chair with both hands swinging straight at Bruce’s head.

 

*CLANG!!*

 

The second the chain goes slack Bruce slinks down to his knees and unknowingly ducks under the steel chair assault. The impact from the steel on steel collision hurts Akira’s hands enough to make him drop the chair and take his focus off Bruce. Since he’s still tied to the ringpost there isn’t much Bruce can do to take advantage of the opening, but moments later the sneaky Bruce reaches up and quickly opens the dog collar around his neck, slipping out of its confines without Nick Soapdish being able to see it from his vantage point in the ring.

 

“HEY!! That’s cheating!! You’re not allowed to take the dog collar off during the match” Pete says in an indignant tone.

 

“It fell off, dang Soapdish probably didn’t tighten it well enough” King casually replies.

 

Bruce is quick to pull the lose chain through the loop to free it while Akira has his back turned. Then he holds the collar up to his neck and pretends to still be locked up. After the momentary distraction Akira tries his best to shake off the pain and turns his attention back towards Bruce once more. He doesn’t realize that Bruce is no longer tied to the pole as he decides to give the chain yet another yank. The moment Akira grabs hold of the chain and pulls backwards Bruce releases his grip and Akira sails backwards from the lack of resistance and slams into the guardrail.

 

“See Bruce TRIED to put it back on but Akira interrupted it” King says in a smug “I told you so” manner.

 

“Bull!”

 

Since Bruce has no desire to be thrown out of the match and thus lose his title he quickly grabs hold of the lose dog collar and straps it on before Nick Soapdish has a chance to figure out the situation. Once the strap is back around his neck Bruce quickly starts to reel in Akira by yanking on the steel chain. Akira doesn’t want to get caught by another chain shot and tries to stop his forward movement by digging his feet in and pulling backwards on the chain in his own direction.

 

“That’ll never work, Bruce is way too powerful for Akira” King says with confidence.

 

“It could” Pete adds proving that hope springs eternal for the face commentators.

 

With his pride on the line Bruce grips the chain extra hard and yanks on it to overpower Akira, Bruce’s powerful arms almost pulls Akira off his feet as he quickly gets closer to Bruce. At the last moment Akira ducks under a stiff clothesline, throws the chain around Bruce’s neck and pulls backwards and downwards as he drives Bruce into the mat with a chain assisted Edge-O-Matic

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

Due to the physical exertion through out the match Akira isn’t able to immediately follow up on the successful attack, instead he sits there on the ground, wiping blood from his eyes as he tries to get his vision cleared up. The break in the action allows Bruce to at least partially catch his breath before attempting to sit back up. Bruce’s movement brings Akira’s focus back onto the match and the Divine Wind quickly wraps the chain around his fits and punches Bruce in the right side of his head to knock the big man down again.

 

“These two warriors have laid it all on the line tonight, they’ve hit each other with everything that’s not been nailed down and thrown each other into everything that HAS been nailed down” Pete says as they watch Akira slowly and unsteadily get to his feet.

 

“You really can’t tell because of Akira’s mask but I think he’s lost quite a lot of blood, and Bruce isn’t exactly unblemished either” King says making reference to the crimson mask Bruce has been wearing for the latter part of the match.

 

Bruce rolls over onto his stomach and tries to get up, but once again he’s foiled as Akira drops another chain-enhanced fist, this time to the back of Bruce’s head. The Divine Wind is back on his feet just moments later, trying his best to keep Bruce under control while trying to shake off some of the early match carnage that Bruce has inflicted upon him.

 

“Akira has been slowed down in this match” King points out “That was Bruce’s strategy from the start, to slow Akira down and methodically pound him into the mat.”

 

“It worked initially too King, but Akira has too much heart, too much determination and pride to just roll over and take it. It’s a matter of pride to the Divine Wind, it’s a matter of beating some respect into Bruce” Pete replies, touching on the very core of the conflict between Akira Kaibatsu and Bruce Blank.

 

After a couple of moments of total inactivity Bruce finally moves once more in an attempt to get back up. For the third time in a row Akira wraps the chain around his hand and swings at Bruce to prevent him from getting back up onto his feet. But this time Bruce has had more time to recover and to become aware of his surroundings which results in Bruce grabbing a chair and holding it in the path of Akira’s fist

 

*CLANG!!*

 

Akira clutches his fist in pain and agony as Bruce finally manages to get up on his knees and then finally back to his feet for the first time in several minutes. After closing the distance with a few staggering steps Bruce grabs Akira by the throat and the tights and tries to press the young Japanese superstar up over his head. The first attempt isn’t successful as Bruce isn’t able to extend his arms fully. The second attempt fails as well as Bruce is just too hurt and exhausted from the long match to properly raise Akira Kaibatsu into the air. With a frustrated look and a grunt Bruce decides to throws Akira over the guardrail and straight into the laps of the fans in the front row.

 

“Look at them scamper like Osama Bin Laden under the Afgani invasion!” King says with a grin.

 

“DO YOU WANT TO GET US ALL KILLED??” Pete roars hoping to keep his co-commentator from making any other Terrorist or Osama comments while they’re in Saudi Arabia.

 

Bruce steps over the guardrail once the fans in the first three rows have moved out of the way and proceeds to land a high boot to Akira’s face knocking him backwards through the next 2 rows of folding chairs. Once it becomes clear that all the fans in the floor section are in harms way security helps them move out of the way of Bruce and Akira’s path, resulting in them clearing a path to the center of the mosque. With one hand on the back of Akira’s mask Bruce is once again in control of the match and is looking for something to use as a weapon. When he notices a large structure with a scaffold around it his eyes light up with evil intentions.

 

“WHERE ARE THEY GOING??” the Suicide King asks as Bruce and Akira’s brawl spills over the guardrail that’s erected to protect the shrine in the middle of the mosque.

 

“That’s the Ravza’t-ul-Mutahhara King, it’s one of the most sacred religious icons in Islam.” Pete says, dazzling everyone with his command of foreign languages.

 

“The Ravza-whunow?”

 

“It’s called the Dome of the Prophet” Pete explains as Bruce and Akira flip over the guardrail and onto the floor around the Dome of the Prophet.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! DIE INFIDEL SCUM!!

 

The crowd obviously does not appreciate one of their most holy of sites being turned into a battle ground for a decadent American wrestling federation. But it is also a holy place and no one in attendance approaches the two combatants.

 

“God I hope they don’t break anything, they’ll declare a holy war on the SWF if they do.” Pete worries as Bruce nails Akira with a forearm smash that sends the Divine Wind into the stone dome.

 

“SWF Jihad – sounds like a good PPV name” King says, not bothered by the sacrilege that Bruce and Akira are close to performing.

 

The Dome of the Prophet is the final resting ground of the Prophet Muhammad, it’s very ancient and time worn – which is why the Dome of the Prophet has been encased in a large scaffold structure to aide in the conservation efforts of the nation of Saudi Arabia. So when Bruce and Akira brawl towards the structure they are fortunately prevented from touching the graves of Abu Bakr and Umar ibn al-Khattab who are also buried in the dome, if they had touched it neither would probably have made it out alive.

 

DIE INFIDEL SCUM!! DIE INFIDEL SCUM!!

 

“Jes… Go… Holy cow the crowd is hot tonight! We may have a riot on our hands” Pete says.

 

“Oh come on, Muslims are a peace loving people – unless you’re Bruce apparently and then you’re in trouble” King remarks as the chants are all directed at the man that brought the fight to the Dome of the Prophet.

 

After a swift kick to the gut Bruce presses Akira up over his head and pumps him a few times to show the crowd that he may be beaten up, bruised, battered and bloody but he’s still a monster to be reckoned with. Taking two steps towards the scaffold Bruce tosses the much lighter opponent forward holing to drop him face first on the metal poles.

 

“AKIRA LANDED ON HIS FEET!!” Pete practically shrieks as Akira manages to twist his body and land feet first on one of the scaffold cross bars.

 

With little regard for his own health Akira quickly flips backwards for a twisting body press. The body press is caught by Bruce who holds the Divine Wind up in a power slam position and then runs him back first into the scaffold.

 

*CRASH!!*

 

The smirk on Bruce’s face is partially obscured by the blood on his face but it’s obvious that Bruce is enjoying inflicting pain. Bruce inflicts even further pain on Akira as he body slams him onto the stone floor with a sick thud. Then he looks up, not at the sky or the ceiling of the mosque but to the top of the scaffold. With a sick grin Bruce quickly wraps the chain around Akira’s neck 3-4 times and drags the masked man to his feet.

 

“He’s not…” Is all Pete can say as he fears what Bruce is going to do next.

 

“He’s going to climb it like a cat climbs a Christmas tree” King says with excitement

 

“Yeah but a cat has nine lives, Bruce’ll need all of those if he does any damage to the dome” Pete cautions everyone.

 

With a good grip on Akira Bruce begins to climb up the side of the scaffold, yanking on the chain wrapped around Akira’s neck to get his opponent to follow him up the side of the steel construct. The crowd intensity rises and this time not due to the potentially religious issues but because no one knows for sure what Bruce has in mind. Rung by rung, pole by pole Bruce slowly climbs the scaffold with Akira in tow until they reach the top.

 

“They’ve got to be over 15 feet up King” Pete says as they watch Bruce slowly get to his feet on the shaky scaffold.

 

“At least, maybe more like 20 though – it’s not a place you want to fall off” King says, feeling the need to point out stuff that doesn’t need to be pointed out.

 

DIE BRUCE DIE!! DIE BRUCE DIE!!

 

Apparently Muslims do not appriciate a redneck climbing their holy shrine and then flipping off the entire crowd with a big grin on his face, who would have thought that? Akira tries to break loose of the chain noose but Bruce’s grip is just too strong as the Ultraviolent champion runs across the top of the scaffold and then throws Akira over the waist high guardrail

 

. . .

 

Fortunately for the Divine Wind he’s able to grab hold of the guardrail and land on the edge of the scaffold instead of dropping the 20 feet to the floor. Bruce has his back turned and is too busy posing to the crowd to notice that Akira didn’t fall down, but once the big man turns around he’s in for a huge surprise.

 

In the form of a super kick square on the big man’s jaw, a super kick that sends Bruce backwards against the protective rail on the scaffold, a super kick that has so much force behind it that it pops the protective rail out of it’s socket and Bruce goes falling over the side.

 

“OH MY GOD!!” Pete screams out as Bruce goes over the edge of the scaffold.

 

Akira probably has a similar thought as he realizes that Bruce has his hand wrapped around the chain and drags Akira along with him over the side of the scaffold, dropping both of them out of sight of the cameras.

 

“QUICK GET AROUND THERE!!” King commands as the camera crew rushes towards backside of the scaffold where Akira and Bruce fell.

 

The camera shows glimpses of two figures on the ground as they rush towards the scene, then as they turn the corner they realize grizzly reality of it all as both Akira and Bruce Blank lay there on the stone floor, not moving, blood splattered on the ground in several places – mainly from existing cuts but still.

 

“This is bad – this is really bad fans” King says as he watches Nick Soapdish and the Emergency medical technicians rush to the scaffolding to check on Akira and Bruce.

 

Everyone else clears out as the EMTs begin to check on the state of the two people that just fell off the scaffold while Nick Soapdish makes his way back to the ring. Nick looks all serious as he goes over to talk to a pale Funyon about what’s going on. Then after a few moments Funyon makes a somber announcement.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen due to an unfortunate accident neither Akira Kaibatus nor Bruce Blank are in a state to continue this match – the referee has declared this a no contest by double knock out”

 

The crowd is stunned into silence, they wanted to see Akira hurt Bruce – but they didn’t want this. They wanted someone punished for desecrating the Dome of the Prophet – but not like this. The entire arena watches on as the doctors slowly remove the dog collars and then fit neck braces on both Akira and Bruce, since they don’t know if there is spinal injuries they are not taking any chances.

 

“We… we need a break, can’t we go backstage or something” Pete asks as they show the EMTs loading Akira onto a stretcher.

 

Fade out to something else… anything else as Bruce and Akira are attended to.

[the.weej 0]

The arena is still abuzz from the matches that have already happened, preparing for whatever may come their way next. The camera briefly pans over to the commentary table first though, where Longdogger Pete and Suicide King are sitting.

 

Pete: We hope you've enjoyed Ramadomination thus far, everyone. We're only getting started on this great night though, as we have a match with a lot of history behind it up next.

 

S.K.: Not only is there history behind this match, there could be serious implications on the future in this match. I mean, with Max King basically FORCING Maddix to be his tag team partner in the near future...a move I personally don't agree with...one will have to wonder how the flow of this match will be.

 

Pete: That's true, and one also has to wonder how well Maddix will be doing against King with the new style. He hasn't really perfected it as of yet, while King is going to be using a style VERY similar to the one he has used before.

 

S.K.: Hopefully if we're lucky, Maddix will make a complete fool of himself in the ring, and lose pathetically to King.

 

Pete: With that in mind, let's go up to Funyon for the introductions.

 

The camera cuts to the ever-present ring announcer for SWF, who looks as professional as he always does.

 

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with NO time limit.

 

After a few seconds...

 

"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"

 

...WAAAAAHHHHH...

 

*DUM DUM*

 

"Megalomaniac" hits over the speakers, and out comes the ever hated South Dakotan makes his way out, arms outstretched. Even in front of another country's crowd, he's keeping up his usual demeanor...only slightly changed due to his new focus.

 

Funyon: Introducing first, from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain...standing 5'10" tall and weighing in tonight at 224 pounds...LANDON..."LA CUCARACHA"...MADDIX!

 

Pete: And take a look at how serious Maddix is coming to the ring tonight. He has been somewhat in a slump in recent weeks in matches, but he's seriously looking to turn things around here tonight against a rival from his past.

 

S.K.: That's the one thing that I'm wondering about in this match though...while King WAS used to the old Maddix, unfortunately this is a different Maddix now.

 

Landon steps between the ropes, getting into the ring, and removing his entrance attire as he waits for his opponent. However, as "Megalomaniac" dies out, no new music cues up. Instead, only the lights dim at the entryway.

 

Funyon: And his opponent...accompanied to the ring by Kelly Connelly, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania...weighing in at 250 pounds..."THE ICON"...MAX...KING!

 

There's a quiet in the air...no music, no pyro, nothing.

 

Pete: I'm confused here...what's going on?

 

S.K.: You're asking ME? I have...

 

Funyon suddenly interrupts again. "And, introducing him to the ring, please welcome Island Records recording artists...SALIVA!"

 

The lights come back on to the stage, where the band Saliva is standing, and they start to play their song.

 

"Now has come the day that I take the lead and I make you follow

Toast the champagne cause I came for greed and not for tomorrow

If it feels good, then it feels good and I do it all day

You want me to play? You best bring your brain, you best bring your money! (YAY!)

 

Make me a Superstar! (YAY!)

No matter who you are.

 

Razorblade and lines, and I'm walking the line without fearing no one.

Damn my throat is dry, I can't taste the wine from these empty bottles.

Films and magazines, it's all what I need and all what I planned on.

Where's my limousine? It's just like a dream that I won't wake up from! (YAY!)"

 

On the YAY, an explosion of fireworks comes out, and from the explosion come Max King and Kelly Connelly, all smiles as they step out. The band continues to play, Kelly going over to them briefly to dance sexily. Luckily for her, Saliva are professionals at what they do, and don't get distracted as they continue.

 

Pete: And the look on Maddix's face in the ring tells the whole story, he's being out-classed in the entrance department, and he's FURIOUS over it.

 

S.K.: I think this is a great move by King here. Get Maddix off his guard with the mind games early on, and that will give him the advantage.

 

King and Kelly slide into the ring with their kissing ring entrance, standing in the middle of the ring...waiting a bit. As the final "AAAAAARE" cues from the band, Kelly removes her mans extras, as even more fireworks go off...shooting up from the turnbuckles, as well as exploding above. Maddix has a look on his face like a man that swallowed a whole lemon in one gulp, as King turns to face his opponent.

 

Pete: And now, the first eye contact between the two opponents. King's game plan thus far seems to just be getting into the head of Maddix, and the bell hasn't even rung yet.

 

S.K.: Well, it's not TOO hard to get into Maddix's head, as there's not that much to get into there.

 

Pete: Kelly leaving the ring now...

 

*DING, DING, DING*

 

Pete: And we're now underway!

 

The camera does a close-up to the ring, as King and Maddix step to the center for a stare down.

 

Pete: Neither man wants to make a mistake here in the early goings of this match, as one mistake could be fatal.

 

S.K.: But the question is who is the first one that's going to make a move?

 

King leans in to try to grapple Maddix, but the former World Champion manages to duck under King's arms, grabbing him from behind with a waist-lock and taking him down to the mat. Maddix tries to hold him down with some classic wrestling riding time, however "The Icon" manages to sit out, rolling over and hooking Maddix's arm into an arm-bar on the mat. La Cucaracha uses his agility to flip up onto his feet, trying to reverse the pain of the hold into an arm-bar of his own, but King manages to use his familiarity with chain wrestling to hook Maddix's arm up, taking him down to the mat with it. Maddix rolls onto his back, putting his feet to King's chest and pushing him off, before rolling out of the ring, shaking his head.

 

Pete: Well, despite J.J. and Hawke's work, in the first session of the match King has full advantage of the former World Champion. But a smart move by Maddix to roll out of the ring to try to regain his bearings again.

 

S.K.: Ah, he's just afraid to be shown up by King again. So much for all that talk about how he's beaten Max in the past, huh?

 

Pete: Well, it has been a while, admittedly since they last faced. And whatever plan Maddix has by staying out of the ring at the moment seems to be working, as King seems to be getting frustrated.

 

Maddix rolls back into the ring under the bottom rope, seemingly surprised that neither Kelly or King tried to attack him before he got inside. Wanting to get the match back in his favor as soon as he enters the ring, he makes a diving grab for one of King's legs, but catches nothing but air as King moves his leg. Maddix quickly makes a move for the other leg, managing to grab it before King gets a chance to react, and takes "The Icon" down to the canvas. He moves up to the head area to start working that over, but King manages to roll out of it, hooking up Maddix's arm into an arm-bar once again, and this time using his free hand to slap the back of Maddix's head a few times. The former World Champ manages to pull away, and starts yelling at the referee for allowing that to happen.

 

Pete: Well, while Maddix is trying to be a bit more serious, it looks like King is out here to have a bit of fun at his expense.

 

S.K.: Well, good. It's about time that Maddix got a taste of his own medicine.

 

Maddix continues to argue with the referee, but that allows King to sneak up from behind him and catch him with a quick school-boy roll-up!

 

One!

 

Maddix gets the shoulder up easily, and looks ENRAGED by what just happened. He charges at King, but that proves costly as well as Maddix gets caught into an arm-drag, then gets an elbow right into the chest for his troubles. King goes for another cover...

 

One!

 

T...shoulder up.

 

Pete: King knows that he's not going to be getting Maddix with these types of covers, but what he IS doing is wearing the former World Champion out with them. And the more energy Maddix spends, the better a chance that he has to get a victory.

 

S.K.: The only bad thing about that is that Maddix is so much like his nickname, a roach. Not only in looks, but in how durable he is.

 

King is about to go in for the attack once again, but Maddix once again rolls out of the ring, trying to regain his bearings again. Some of the more vocal fans in the crowd get onto Maddix's case for his running, but he tries to ignore them. Deciding that he's done with trying to deal with King already, Maddix starts walking over to the entrance.

 

S.K.: What a coward! Walking out of this match already? That's pathetic!

 

Pete: Apparently Maddix deciding that he's not up for the match as he thought he would be, and taking a walk to fight another day...but look at Kelly!

 

Kelly has rushed over to where Maddix is trying to walk to (an amazing feet considering the fact that she's wearing high heels) and blocks Maddix's path of escape. Maddix looks like he's about to shove Kelly right onto her ass, but before he gets the chance his arm gets grabbed by King, and the match turns into a slugfest on the arena floor. Maddix gets nailed with a few good shots to the face, rocking him back, before King goes to whip him back to the ring. Desperation allows Maddix to reverse the attempt though, and sends King's 250-pound frame chest first into the side of the ring apron. King is now down on the arena floor, and seems to be temporarily without the wind in his body.

 

Pete: And Maddix FINALLY getting the chance to get some offense in and control in the match. One has to wonder if he'll be able to keep it though.

 

S.K.: Unfortunately, I'm sure that he will be.

 

Pete: You're actually giving Maddix credit?

 

S.K.: Don't read too much into it, Pete.

 

Maddix picks King up by his arm, and tosses "The Icon" into the ring before he gets a chance to get his wind back, then follows him into the ring. When King is on his hands and knees, "La Cucaracha" runs in, going for a quick cradle-like move.

 

One!

 

TW...Kick-out by King.

 

Maddix doesn't seem to mind the kick-out, as he now stands up and stomps right onto the chest of King, going to take some more wind out of his body. Seeing that King isn't getting up as quickly as he might usually, Maddix takes some time to be an arrogant ass like he loves to be, scraping his boot right across King's eyes.

 

Pete: And here is where Maddix is at his most dangerous, when he can do whatever he pleases to his opponent. Especially when he can scrape that boot across someone's face, since that hurts King's visibility.

 

S.K.: In other words, Maddix is trying to make this match more even, because I'm sure a blinded King is equal to Maddix on any given day.

 

Pete: Well, I don't know if I would go THAT far...

 

S.K.: *I* would!

 

Maddix smiles at the fact that he's got King right where he wants him, turning "The Icon" onto his chest to continue to add punishment. Before he can, however, King manages to shove him away, coughing a bit as he tries to catch his breath. Only mildly surprised at the fact that King had that in him, he doesn't take more chances, and kicks King HARD into the ribs while he's still down. The sound of the ring gear of Maddix hitting King's bare flesh echoes through the arena, and shots of the crowd show some wincing at the feeling. Maddix starts to get relentless on his assault, and repeatedly kicks away at King's body to continue the sound. Each kick, however, managed to knock King closer and closer to the ring ropes, and that allows him to grab them. Maddix doesn't seem to care though, grabbing him in a headlock at the arena floor, ignoring the fact that the referee is counting until the five count is JUST about to be laid down.

 

S.K.: And Maddix just proving that he needs any advantage that he can get to beat King now!

 

Pete: Though I have to question, wouldn't King do the same thing against Maddix if he got the chance?

 

S.K.: ...well, maybe the OLD King would do so. I don't know about the current Max King though.

 

Maddix seems to be smiling a bit at having the advantage, and with King still by the ropes he bounces off the other rope, then hits "The Icon" in the ribs with a sliding dropkick that knocks him out of the ring, before going to taunt the crowd a bit. He then orders the referee to count, smiling to himself.

 

Pete: And it looks like Maddix is willing to get the win however he can in this match, wanting King to be counted out!

 

S.K.: Well, I hate to admit it again, this is a very smart move. Win any way you can. It's just that I wish that it was King doing this instead of Maddix.

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

 

Four!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

Pete: King is FINALLY starting to move on the outside, but will King be able to move enough to get back into the ring? Maddix not even paying attention to the fact that King is quickly starting to get up to his feet...

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

King JUST manages to roll back into the ring before the ten count, which Maddix seems to be waiting for. Not hearing it, he turns around, and is caught by surprise as he gets a head-BUTT to the stomach for his trouble. King quickly tries for another roll up, locking it up TIGHT!

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

Kick-out by Maddix. King and Maddix both start getting up to their feet, but Maddix is up first, and he manages to catch King in the side of the head with a temple.

 

S.K: NOT good for King. If that hit him hard enough, he could be out cold!

 

Pete: Maddix thinks that it IS over, he's going for the cover!

 

One!

 

TWO...Kick-out!

 

Immediately after the kick out, Maddix grabs King around his neck, and pulls him back for a reverse chin-lock, holding King down to the mat with it.

 

Pete: And now Maddix going for a bit of that wrestling that he's been slowly learning from Hawke and Johnson, going to wear down that neck of Max King a bit before going for a win.

 

S.K.: FINALLY we're seeing some wrestling from Maddix. I don't expect it to last much longer though.

 

Maddix continues to pull away at King's neck, trying to keep him on the mat, looking around the arena as he hears some of the fans trying to get King back into this contest. Max starts to get up slowly to his feet, despite being taken off of his game for the moment, and is on his knees...then to his feet. He starts to swing his elbow right into Maddix, trying to break up the hold. Maddix, not liking that King is fighting like he is, clubs him with a forearm on the back of the neck, then goes off the ropes to attempt something. King shows that he was aware enough of Maddix's position though, and backdrops him high up and back onto the canvas, adjusting to keep his balance. Maddix gets up to his feet, and King catches him HARD in the back with a knee...then a HARD kick to the face!

 

Pete: And there's the Complex by King! Possibly a desperate move to do, but it was an effective one to do as well. King rolling over for the cover now!

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

TH...Kick-out!

 

S.K.: Once again, the roach manages to survive something that would be a certain end. Now why is King arguing with the referee, STAY ON HIM!

 

Pete: This IS a bad move from Max, as it's not a wise idea at all. Wait a second, Maddix from behind...

 

Maddix catches King with a sudden low-blow out of nowhere, sending wincing even to Kelly on ringside. Maddix, happy with his actions, grabs King's arms, then jumps up, puts his knees into King's back, and falls to the mat.

 

Pete: Mount Crushmore by Maddix after that low-blow to get an advantage! Maddix is going to steal one, as he goes for the cover now!

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

THR...KICK-OUT!

 

Now it's MADDIX'S turn to look at the referee in surprise at the count not going up to a three. He gets up, and DEMANDS that the referee start counting faster, but the referee is having none of it. Maddix goes to shove the referee, but is pulled back by King grabbing his tights, and giving him a forearm shot to the small of the back! King pulls himself up to his feet, and grabs Maddix into a sleeper, and drops down quickly with it, but doesn't manage to get back up very quickly.

 

Pete: King gets the Sleeper Drop...not his Iconizer move that he's started bringing to the table. King not going right for the cover though, but now drapes an arm...doubt he'll get it...

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

Kick-out by Maddix.

 

S.K: Well, you called it Pete. No way was King going to get the win with just an arm draped across the chest like that.

 

Pete: But Maddix is slow to get up as well, and that could be trouble for him as well. King is setting up, he seems ready to end this...

 

Maddix gets up to his feet, his back to King, which is exactly what Max wanted as he grabs Maddix around the neck with a Dragon Sleeper. Before he can hook up the other leg to go for the King Buster, Maddix manages to duck with it, and sends King head first into a turnbuckle. Coughing a bit at his throat being grabbed like it was, Maddix goes in, and chops King right across the back of the ribcage.

 

"WHOOO!"

 

Maddix grins a bit at the fact that he's currently got King exactly where he wants him, and chops him once again across the back...

 

"WHOOO!"

 

...then poses a bit to taunt King. He goes in for another chop, but King manages to get out of the way of that one, sending Maddix into the corner back first, and then repeatedly chops into the chest of Maddix, so fast the crowd can't even "Whoo" at the attacking. Maddix chops King all the way down into a seated position on the arena floor, taking a few steps back before driving a knee right into Maddix's face!

 

Pete: Despite a brief moment of offense by Maddix, King is back into full control of this match! Going back for the cover again, this may do it if he hit that knee right!

 

One!

 

TW...Maddix puts a foot on the rope, which he was right next to. King curses a bit at that, before going over to the top rope. The camera briefly cuts to the outside of the ring to see Kelly looking somewhere between merely concerned and totally worried about what is going on, then cuts back to see King gaining his balance on the top rope. Raising his arms up into the air, he leaps off, going for an elbow-drop from the top...

 

...and catches nothing but mat, as Maddix manages to move out of the way.

 

Pete: And that's exactly why Johnson and Hawke have been working to improve Maddix's ring style, as those High Risk moves have chances to fail like they just did now!

 

S.K.: Yeah, that was NOT a smart move by King, going for that flying elbow just then, because I don't think that Maddix was worn down enough.

 

The camera looks over to Maddix, who is grabbing the ropes and is pulling himself to the feet. He at first merely has a look of weariness on his face, but then seeing that King is down and seemingly out where he landed. Nodding to himself...or maybe one of his partners in the back, Maddix stands up again, and walks over to King, and grabs HIS head into a Dragon Sleeper type position...before sitting onto King's back!

 

Pete: Land of Nod applied onto King, and this could be it! If Max King can't find a way to get out of this move, Maddix is going to get the win either by submission or pass out!

 

Kelly is repeatedly slamming her hands on the ring apron to try to get King's attention. However, the only attention that King has at the moment is the attention of pain in his body. Maddix continues to pull away and wrench at King's body with the move, not caring at the moment that he hasn't truly worn down King enough to get the full effect of the move.

 

S.K.: Come on Kelly, get King back into the match! You know that you can with all your...assets!

 

Pete: We'll just leave that one at that.

 

Maddix continues to pulls back at the move, trying his hardest to get the victory. He notices that King's arm is limp now, and goes to check up on the arm.

 

One!

 

S.K.: DAMN! Not this!

 

The referee grabs the arm of King again, lifting it...and it drops limp once again.

 

TWO!

 

Pete: If King's arm drops one more time, this match is over! Maddix seems to think it is over now, and smiling widely. The arm goes up...

 

Anticipation fills the air as the referee lets go of the arm, but doesn't fall limp! Instead, it's pulled away, as King in desperation pushes with his arms to flip Maddix off of him! Maddix, put into an uncomfortable position, has to release the hold, but the damage has been done to King.

 

Pete: King technically is still in this match right now, but will he be able to get back in with some offensive moves?

 

S.K.: He better! I got money riding on King to get the win in this one!

 

Pete: Let me guess...it takes a King to know a King, huh?

 

S.K.: Please don't EVER use that phrase again.

 

Maddix, still surprised at the fact that King managed to get out of the Land Of Nod, seems to be at a loss at what to do in that ring to get the victory. However, as he sees King roll to his back, coughing and trying to get air back into his 250-pound frame, he gets an idea. He grabs King once again into a Dragon Sleeper, but this time pulls him up to his feet, and grabs one of King's legs.

 

Pete: I see what Maddix is trying now, he's going for humiliation here! He's trying to beat Max with Max's own move! Maddix lifting up...and there's the King Buster! That's going to do it!

 

S.K.: This has got to be it. Maddix going for the cover now...

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

THREE...NO! KICK-OUT AT 2 and 99/100ths!

 

S.K: YES! BY GOD YES!

 

Pete: Max King JUST manages to get the shoulder up before the three count, and that has GOT to throw Maddix off a bit. He was SURE that he would have gotten the victory with that!

 

S.K.: But he didn't, so screw him!

 

Maddix starts cursing as he grabs King off the mat again, but being hit with his own move somehow seems to give King the second wind that he so desperately needed. He starts slugging away repeatedly at the face of Maddix, using all his weight in the punches...and on the 5th punch Maddix is down on the mat once more, and King is looking to the crowd to see if they like what they're seeing.

 

Pete: King's second wind is finally in, and Maddix gets blasted with a Mafia Kick to the head as he tries to get up! "The Icon" is back into this match, despite everything that has happened to him thus far!

 

S.K.: And watch King whip Maddix HARD into the corner...and blasts Maddix in the corner with a clothesline! Look at the pain on Maddix's face, I'm loving it!

 

Pete: And it doesn't seem to be done with in the mind of Max King! He sends Maddix into the other corner, and another corner clothesline that almost knocks Maddix out of his boots.

 

King grins, and sets Maddix up onto the top rope into a seated position, climbing to the top with his opponent...suplex, roll over...into the...

 

S.K.: SUPERB-PLEX! NOW this one is over, I'm SURE of it!

 

Max King stays on after the Superb-Plex for the cover!

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

THRE...NO!

 

S.K: *BLEEP!*

 

Pete: I don't know how Maddix managed to survive that move there, but in any event, this match is still underway. King looking to the crowd, and he's making the motion for the King Buster again!

 

S.K: He has to be careful, though! He tried this move earlier on in the match, but it was reversed on him!

 

Pete: King hooking Maddix up, the leg hooked this time! This time there's no way that Maddix is going to get out...

 

King lift Maddix up off the match, before dropping the back of his head HARD onto the mat.

 

Pete: THERE IT IS! King staying on for the cover again!

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

THRE...NO!

 

Maddix JUST managed to drape his arm onto the rope after the King Buster, keeping himself alive just a little while longer in this match!

 

S.K: NOT AGAIN! COME ON ALREADY!

 

Pete: Unfortunately, it's in the rules to do that in the match, and Maddix STILL is in this match! King looks shocked at this...

 

S.K: I'M shocked at this! If it weren't for Maddix being near the ropes, this match would be OVER!

 

Pete: King not done yet though, he's got one more move to try! He grabs Maddix by the hair...oh, rake of the eyes by Maddix. And there's a quick snapping DDT! No cover though by Maddix.

 

S.K.: I'm not sure that he even knows where he is at the moment to even TRY to get a cover, and that's good on the part of King right now.

 

Maddix takes a few moments to catch his breath, and looks around at his surroundings. King is in the middle of the ring, too far from the ropes to try anything. He then looks at King once again with disgust, and stands up to his feet again, grabbing Max and pulling him up, making a snapping gesture with his hands.

 

Pete: I think that Maddix remembers what King did to him on his return to SWF...he wants to return the favor on King, and I don't think that King is aware!

 

S.K.: Damnit, it looks like Maddix is going to get the win!

 

Pete: Maddix going to try to steal King's own move, the Iconizer, from him! Either that or catch him in the submission hold alone...King back up to his feet, Maddix going to grab...

 

The crowd's booing for Maddix on the advantage turns into adulation as King manages to duck behind his smaller rival, and hook HIM up in the judo-like chokehold, before dropping him down.

 

Pete: ICONIZER by Max King! "The Icon" caught Maddix off guard with that, but after the rest of this match, will that be enough to keep Maddix down?

 

S.K.: Well, it may be, but King isn't going for the cover! What's wrong with you, King?

 

Pete: King looking to the turnbuckle now, and back to Maddix. He could have something in mind that could turn the favor of the match in the wrong direction.

 

King looks out to the crowd, who looks confused by his actions, and just shrugs it off as he drags Maddix over to the nearest corner, then climbs onto the middle rope. The crowd, sensing what King has in mind, ERUPTS into cheers.

 

S.K.: YES! DO IT KING! DO IT AND I'LL BE A FAN OF YOURS NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS!

 

Pete: King waiting on the ropes, this could be disastrous for either man depending on what happens here...

 

Maddix gets up to his feet shakily, unaware of the location of King at the moment...until he turns around. Taking one of the biggest chances in this match, King Leaps off and...

 

Pete: CRASH LANDON BY KING! AND HE HIT *ALL* OF THAT MOVE! King going for the cover IMMEDIATELY!

 

One!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!!!!

 

*DING, DING, DING!*

 

"Superstar" starts playing over the speaker again, and the crowd is on their feet at what just happened.

 

Funyon: Here is your winner..."THE ICON"...MAX...KING!

 

Pete: King out-smarted Maddix! Maddix expected King to just use technical wrestling here, and "The Icon" managed to use Maddix's own move against him to get the victory!

 

S.K.: And I believe that this will do VERY little to help Maddix's mood about becoming a "better wrestler". Imagine the humiliation about being beaten with his own move...it's great!

 

Pete: Kelly giving King a hug as he leaves the ring, and Maddix just NOW coming to and realizes what happened! But it's too late, King has gotten the victory right here at Ramadomination!

 

S.K.: I just had a thought though...what will this mean for when King and Maddix are going for the tag team titles?

 

Pete:...that, is a VERY good question.

 

The camera fades out on Kelly and King going into the back now to celebrate.

[the.weej 0]

Pete: “Ramadomination continues from Saudi Arabia!”

 

King: “One of these days, we’re going to do one of these pay-per-view events from one of these foreign countries, and they’re going to revoke our passports and keep us in prison.”

 

Pete: “If only we could lucky enough for them to do that to you.”

 

King: “Oh, funny. You’ve probably waited your whole life to get that shot in on me, huh?”

 

Pete: “Coming up next, the battle for the SWF International Championship. Jay Hawke defends the championship he has held for over six months against a man who was acting instead of wrestling three months ago, Wes Davenport.”

 

King: “And Jay Hawke has to win this one. Hawke losing this match would be like Jeff Jarrett losing the WCW World Title to David Arquette. Just a ludicrous situation.”

 

Pete: “You do know that actually happened, right?”

 

King: “And it was a ludicrous situation, wasn’t it?”

 

Pete: “These two men have never crossed paths before, which makes this very interesting.”

 

King: “That’s Pete’s polite way of saying ‘If the match sucks, don’t blame the booking committee’.”

 

Pete: “Will you stop?”

 

King: “No.”

 

Pete: “Before we head to the ring, let’s take a quick look at the Tale of the Tape.

 

 

JAY HAWKE

 

HEIGHT: 5'9'

WEIGHT: 215

AGE: 30

EXPERIENCE: 9 years

ACCOMPLISHMENTS: Former HIWF World Champion; former SWF USJL and World Tag Team Champion; current reign as SWF International Champion (his second) is the longest single title reign in SWF history (189 days and counting)

 

 

WES DAVENPORT

 

HEIGHT: 6'5"

WEIGHT: 255

AGE: 30

EXPERIENCE: 3 months, although he did begin training 11 years ago

ACCOMPLISHMENTS: Star of feature films; undefeated since returning from extended layoffs; most straight-to-video movie sales for three years running

 

 

Pete: “We’ve been polling fans all week long on swf.com, and they seem to be split in their predictions. While a lot of people think Wes Davenport is going to walk out of here with the championship, there are almost as many that feel Jay Hawke has been simply too dominant to drop this title to an actor.”

 

King: “Wait a second. People actually think Davenport’s going to win the title?”

 

Pete: “Indeed.”

 

King: “Who did you talk to? His family?”

 

Pete: “In fact, I did. They’re the ones that think Hawke’s going to win.”

 

King: “Well, I’ll be damned.”

 

Pete: “Let’s go to Funyon for the introductions.”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a one hour time limit, and it is for the SWF International Championship!”

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

 

OK Go’s “Get Over It” comes over the PA.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger. Hailing from Hollywood, California, and weighing in at 255 pounds. WESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS DAVENPORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!”

 

As the crowd once again shouts “Derka Derka Derka”, the lights dim down until the only light remaining in the building is the spotlight that shines on Davenport as he walks to the ring. One turban-wearing fan holds out a copy of Wes’ most successful movie from last year, “The Lesbian’s Wife”, which Davenport autographs as he’s never actually seen anybody buy any of his movies. Wes then slides into the ring and walks to the middle of the squared circle, holding his arms in the air as the spotlight continues to shine down on him.

 

Pete: “Here’s what’s dangerous about Wes Davenport tonight. With each match he wrestles, he gains more and more confidence. He may actually think he can win the title here tonight, and if he does, we could see the upset.”

 

King: “I disagree. Manson thought he could take this title. Zyon thought he could take the title. Both failed. And both had higher upsides than this guy. If this guy lasts ten minutes with Hawke, I’ll be the most surprised man in the building.”

 

The spotlight is turned off, and one can’t help but notice the disappointment on the challenger’s face as the music changes to Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly”.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent. From the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio, and representing Cucaracha Internacional! He weighs in tonight at 215 pounds … he is the reigning and defending SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

 

The aisle way illuminates with purple lights making a regal-looking path for the champion, and the same spotlight that just shined on the challenger is now shining on the champion. Hawke smirks as he makes his way to the ring, as he notices Davenport saying “gimmick infringement” to referee Scott Ryder.

 

King: “And here’s the man who has held this championship longer than any one man has ever held any one championship in SWF history. And that record-setting reign continues tonight.”

 

Pete: “You seem almost as confident as Jay Hawke does.”

 

King: “And with good reason. Hey, Hawke owes it to all the boys backstage to knock Davenport back into reality.”

 

Jay Hawke enters the ring, then climbs up onto the middle rope with his arms raised into the air as the crowd begins to throw assorted things to the ring. Hawke continues to smirk as he comes off the turnbuckle and removes his robe, revealing his beautiful championship belt.

 

King: “I love the design of that belt. Gives it an old school feel.”

 

Hawke takes the title belt off from around his waist, folds it, and stares at it for a moment, before giving it a quick kiss. Kissing it goodbye? He doesn’t seem to think so, but anything can happen once the bell rings. He hands the belt to the referee, who shows it to Davenport briefly before holding it in the air for the capacity crowd to see.

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

 

Pete: “This crowd is ready for this one, King. What anticipation for a major championship match.”

 

King: “We know some of these fans can speak English. They’ve done it all night. Why aren’t they now?”

 

Pete: “I think you’ll see it before the match is over.”

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

 

At the sound of the bell, the crowd erupts, and the two combatants slowly make their way to the center of the ring. The thoughts are swimming through their mind. For Hawke, how will the world perceive his record title reign if he ends up losing the title to an actor? For Davenport, how does he get out of the match without a broken arm? Finally the two participants lock up collar-and-elbow, and Wes Davenport uses his strength advantage to throw Jay Hawke to the mat. Even Davenport seems somewhat surprised at his strength as Hawke gets to one knee and shakes his head.

 

Pete: “And a good show of strength from Wes Davenport there to take the International Champion off of his feet.”

 

King: “That may be, Pete, but one throw down doesn’t win a championship.”

 

Jay Hawke makes his way to his feet again, and the two wrestlers once again lock up collar-and-elbow. Jay Hawke wastes no time preventing a repeat throw down from happening, as he grabs a hold of Davenport’s left arm and spins behind him, locking in a tight hammerlock. Davenport struggles to find a counter, but Jay Hawke releases it on his own and lightly paintbrushes the challenger with a slap to the back of the head. Wes Davenport shoots the champion a dirty look, but Jay Hawke looks back, simply doing that arrogant smirk he always does.

 

Pete: “And will you look at the arrogance of the International Champion?”

 

King: “Hey, all he’s doing is telling the actor that he’s in a wrestling ring now. This isn’t the Screen Actor’s Guild awards where everything is all champagne and save the whales and stuff.”

 

The combatants lock up collar-and-elbow yet again. Hawke goes for the arm again, but Davenport backs up a step and hooks Hawke into a side headlock. Before Hawke has a chance to break the hold, Davenport releases the hold and slaps Jay Hawke.

 

Hard.

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Exactly.

 

Pete: “Uh oh.”

 

King: “Prepare to die, Wes Davenport.”

 

Indeed, Jay Hawke immediately charges, actually using a spear to take Davenport down to the mat despite the champion’s thought that the spear is among the dumbest moves ever designed in the history of the sport. Hawke immediately takes the mount position on his now prone opponent and levels him with a series of hard forearm and elbow strikes that would make stablemate JJ Johnson cringe, before getting to his feet and shouting “Get up, bitch!”

 

Pete: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jay Hawke go postal on somebody like that before!”

 

King: “Can you blame him? He got slapped in the face by a guy who was filming ‘The Prince and the Cabana Boy’ three months ago!”

 

Wes Davenport makes his way to his feet, with a look on his face that says “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Deciding that trying to fight back is the best solution, he runs forward, hoping to clothesline the International Champion out of his shoes, but Hawke ducks, slips behind him, grabs his waist, and throws him backwards with a release German suplex that folds his body like an accordion. Hawke smirks and goes for the cover, neglecting to hook a leg because he’d rather drive the elbow into the side of the face:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Pete: “A near fall, but a rare mistake for Jay Hawke as he doesn’t grapevine the leg.”

 

King: “Not a mistake, MacDougal. Hawke wanted to show him up for the slap a couple of minutes ago. When Hawke decides he’s ready to take the match, he’ll go back to the technique that has made him the longest-reigning champion in SWF history.”

 

Jay Hawke finally calms down a little bit and grabs Wes Davenport in a front facelock. He clamps down on it, cutting the flow of blood to the brain, then adds a occasional knee into the midsection for good measure. Hawke then spins Davenport to the mat with a swinging neck breaker, the confident smirk returning to his face before once again going for the pin:

 

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

Kickout.

 

Pete: “Another near fall, and Davenport has kicked out of two near falls in the course of thirty seconds or so.”

 

King: “Well, nobody’s ever accused him of not having a survival instinct. Of course, the smart thing to do would be to run off and get counted out before Hawke decides to start working the shoulder.”

 

Jay Hawke once again locks in a front facelock, pulling Davenport to his feet as he clamps down on the hold. With Davenport’s body going limp, Hawke once again smirks.

 

Pete: “You look at the size of these two guys, and you wouldn’t think Hawke would have this kind of control over Davenport.”

 

King: “That’s all thanks to Hawke’s knowledge of leverage and pressure points, Pete.”

 

The Dean of Wrestling, still maintaining the pressure of the headlock, sets Davenport up for a vertical suplex. Wes hooks his leg behind Hawke’s, then drives a knee into the midsection before taking Hawke to the mat with a vertical suplex.

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

 

The crowd chants in near shock as Davenport finishes the sweet-looking counter. Davenport seems unsure of what to do from here, so he does the obvious. He goes for the pin, hoping he can luck into taking the championship:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

King: “You’re not going to pin Jay Hawke with one suplex!”

 

Pete: “It’s worth a shot, King. All you need is for Hawke to have the wind knocked out of him for three seconds.”

 

King: “After one suplex?”

 

Pete: “Stranger things have happened in the SWF.”

 

King: “True. Like every Bruce Blank match ever recorded.”

 

Both men return to their feet, with Wes Davenport leveling Jay Hawke with a European uppercut forearm. Another one, this one staggering Hawke a couple of steps backwards. And a third one, this one backing Jay Hawke into the corner. Davenport moves in, catching Hawke with a couple of knees into the midsection. His confidence building, Wes whips Hawke into the opposite corner and charges….

 

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

 

…only for the Dean of Professional Wrestling to move out of the way, causing Davenport to hit the ringpost shoulder-first.

 

King: “And there’s where the match changes into Jay Hawke’s advantage, Pete.”

 

Pete: “I have to agree with you, King. That’s going to give Hawke the opportunity to go to work on Wes Davenport’s shoulder and set up the Wing Span.”

 

King: “And if Hawke hooks the Wing Span, I doubt very highly that Davenport’s going to find any way to counter out of it.”

 

Davenport clutches at his shoulder as Jay Hawke makes his way to his feet. Seeing that, Jay Hawke immediately puts the boots to his fallen challenger, making sure the vast majority of his stomps target the left shoulder. Hawke then drops a knee into the shoulder, causing Davenport to let out a scream that echoes throughout the “arena”.

 

King: “And he’s not going to be able to counter anything if Jay Hawke keeps making him scream like that, Pete.”

 

Pete: “I seem to recall you saying the same thing about Zyon at Genesis, and he’s the one who has come closest to beating Hawke for this title.”

 

King: “And who still has the title? Case closed!”

 

Jay Hawke makes sure Wes Davenport is face-down on the canvas, then locks in a solid hammerlock. As the former actor grimaces in pain, the Dean of Wrestling uses his shoulder to push up on the arm and try to add on the pressure. As Hawke cranks on the hold, Davenport thinks to himself “Why did I ever sign that contract, movie role or no movie role?”

 

Pete: “Hammerlock still applied, and here you see the champion attempting to neutralize the left arm and shoulder of his challenger.”

 

Jay Hawke relinquishes his grip just a bit, but still hangs onto the arm. He drives a series of knees into the shoulder, bringing out further yelps of pain from the mouth of his challenger.

 

King: “I’d say his shoulder is pretty damn near neutralized, what do you say?”

 

Jay Hawke senses the match is well in hand and arrogantly brings Wes Davenport to his feet. Hawke drives a series of forearms into the side of Davenport’s left arm. Davenport’s arm goes limp from the series of hard forearm smashes, and Hawke finishes the sequence off with a forearm to the face that would have made Danny Williams “Goddamn, now that was one hell of a hard forearm smash.” Wes staggers backwards, and Hawke uses his challenger’s arm to whip the challenger into the ropes. The Dean ducks his head for a backdrop, but Wes instinctively wraps Jay’s head into a facelock and drops straight down.

 

Pete: “DDT! Wes Davenport came out with a DDT virtually out of nowhere, and he might have turned the tide of battle here!”

 

King: “No, not yet, Pete! He’s already clutching at that arm, and that’s going to keep him from following up right away!”

 

The words of Suicide King prove themselves to be almost prophetic. For by the time the challenger is on his feet and ready to follow up, the challenger has also made his way to his feet. Davenport uses the right arm -- his good arm -- to stagger Hawke backwards with a couple of European uppercuts. Davenport runs into the ropes on the other side and rocks Jay Hawke with a clothesline that backs him against the ropes. Hearing the crowd voicing its approval…

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

 

…Wes Davenport runs into the ropes again, catching Hawke with another clothesline that sends Jay Hawke tumbling over the top rope and down to the arena floor.

 

Pete: “A series of forearms, followed by a couple of clotheslines, and Hawke is in trouble here!”

 

King: “Davenport’s celebrating, but he can’t win the title with Hawke on the floor!”

 

Finally realizing that, Davenport walks over to the ropes in an attempt to bring the champion back into the ring. The champion, however, isn’t in as much as trouble as Longdogger Pete thinks he is, and he trips Davenport and pulls him to the floor. Davenport lands on his feet, and he takes a wild swing at the champion. Hawke, however, ducks, then slips behind Davenport and shoves him forward, driving the already-injured shoulder into the ringpost.

 

Pete: “Oh no!”

 

King: “Oh yes!”

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke has just driven Davenport’s shoulder into the ringpost, the second time flesh has met steel in this contest, and Davenport might not be very long for this world at this point!”

 

FIVE!

 

Jay Hawke locks Davenport into yet another hammerlock, and once again pushes Davenport into the ringpost in an attempt to turn his challenger’s shoulder into Jell-O. And hell, there’s always room in a wrestling match for Jell-O.

 

SEVEN!

 

Jay Hawke rolls Wes Davenport back into the ring, then climbs up onto the ring apron. Hawke waits a second or two for Davenport to return to his feet, then leaps up and uses the top rope as a springboard before nearly decapitating his challenger with a clothesline.

 

King: “Wow! I think Davenport’s head is rolling in one corner while his eyes are rolling in another corner! What a shot!”

 

The arrogance begins to return to Jay Hawke’s face as he moves in. “Poor little actor,” he thinks. “He really thought he had a chance to take my title.” And he moves in for the kill, turning Davenport onto his stomach and locking his injured left arm into a Fujiwara armbar.

 

Pete: “And Hawke once again going for the submission here! He wants Davenport to tap out!”

 

King: “Really? Here I thought he just locked in submission holds because they looked cool in picture books. You really are an idiot, you know that.”

 

And by all rights, following three shots to the ringpost and a solid four or five minutes of nothing

but punishment, Wes Davenport should be ready to submit. He should be ready to tap out. He should be ready to soak in a hot tub while having his shoulder rubbed by three bikini-clad wannabe actresses he’s told “I’m a producer” to. But something won’t let him.

 

The spotlight.

 

The image of Jay Hawke coming out to the ring with the spotlight shining is all the motivation Davenport needs. Davenport begins to crawl to the ropes, much to the absolute shock of not only the crowd, but Jay Hawke as well, who can’t seem to believe the actor has any fight left in him. Davenport just barely reaches the bottom rope, and the referee begins his disqualification count, forcing Hawke to break the hold at the count of four and look down at his opponent in shock.

 

Pete: “Say what you will about Wes Davenport, King, but he’s got no quit in him.”

 

King: “Well, he’d better get some quit in him, because if he doesn’t quit like pronto, he might not have one of his appendages when his next audition rolls around!”

 

Jay Hawke briefly turns and argues with Scott Ryder as Wes Davenport begins to uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet. Hawke stops arguing just long enough to grab Davenport’s arm and wrap it around the middle rope, twisting and contorting it as the referee begins his disqualification count:

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Hawke releases the hold, only to go right back to it:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Hawke releases, and yet again he goes right back to it:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Jay Hawke kicks the rope on the break, snapping Davenport’s arm against it. The challenger collapses to the mat clutching at his shoulder, and the champion once again gets an evil gleam in his eye. As Davenport uses his good arm to try to pull himself to his feet, Jay Hawke stands behind him, arms extended, waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.

 

King: “You know what’s coming here, don’t you, Pete?”

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke’s getting in position for the Wing Span!”

 

King: “And it’s going to be all over!”

 

As Davenport finally makes his feet, Hawke moves in and goes for his finishing submission hold, but Davenport, quicker than a cheetah who really needs to find a private place to relieve himself in the jungle, spins around and uses his good arm to arm drag the challenger over. Hawke looks up in mild shock, then charges at Wes Davenport, who quickly ducks and hooks his legs around Jay’s ankle, knocking him forward and draping his neck across the middle rope.

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

DERKA!

DERKA!

DERKA!

DERKA!

DERKA!”

 

King: “Where the hell did that come from?”

 

Pete: “I don’t know, but Wes Davenport, either out of ingenuity or instinct, has found a way to regain control of this contest!”

 

With Hawke still leaning against the ropes, Wes Davenport runs off the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. When he returns, he leaps and drives his entire 255-pound frame across the back of the champion. Davenport then chokes Jay Hawke against the ropes, his eyes bugging out as he only releases the hold at the referee’s count of four. Davenport then snaps the middle rope back to knock Jay Hawke back down to the mat, then drops down and locks in a chokehold.

 

King: “He’s snapped!”

 

Pete: “Jay Hawke has tried to break his arm tonight! Of course he’s snapped!”

 

Wes Davenport breaks the chokehold and covers:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout. Davenport drags the champion to his feet and levels him a European uppercut. Hawke falls backwards, the ropes being the only thing to keep Hawke on his feet, and Hawke staggers forward just a little bit…

 

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

 

…right into a standing side kick that nearly knocks Hawke’s head off his shoulders. Davenport once again goes for the cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

…and that’s all, although the champion just barely got his shoulder up. Hawke slowly pulls himself to his feet, and Davenport slips behind Jay Hawke and locks him into a sleeper hold.

 

Pete: “Two near falls in the course of thirty seconds or so, and now he’s got the sleeper hold firmly applied!”

 

King: “He’s got it applied, but I’m not sure how much damage he’s actually doing with that weakened arm!”

 

Enough, apparently, as Hawke is beginning to reach for the ropes but is fading fast. Hawke stares at his goal, the ropes, but the vision is going blurry. So he does the only thing he can think of to break the hold…

 

 

…

 

 

…He drops to his ass, driving his jaw into Davenport’s chin. Wes holds his chin in pain, and Hawke tries once again to finish him off. He again goes for a Wing Span, but Davenport slips behind and pushes Jay Hawke into the ropes before rolling him over into a reverse cradle…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Pete: “He got him!”

 

King: “No he didn’t! Only two, says referee Scott Ryder! His first good call of the match!”

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

The crowd doesn’t think so, but Jay Hawke has indeed just barely kicked out of the cradle. Davenport is unaware of it, and he hops onto the middle turnbuckle to celebrate. He raises both arms in the air, demanding the spotlight that goes with being the champion…

 

…looking confused as to why the fans have stopped celebrating…

 

…and asking “Why the hell am I being pulled off the turnbuckle?”…

 

 

…

 

 

…before having his left shoulder fall hard over Jay Hawke’s knee!

 

Pete: “Shoulderbreaker!”

 

Hawke immediately covers:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

 

“DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA DERKA!”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 13 minutes 50 seconds … the winner of this contest … and still SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

Scott Ryder hands the championship to the champion, who is sitting exhausted next to his fallen challenger. Hawke looks down briefly at Davenport, tapping at the belt as if to say, “Good fight, but it’s still mine.”

 

Pete: “Unbelievable. Many of the people in this building thought Wes Davenport walked out of here with that International Championship after that rolling reverse cradle, but Jay Hawke once again retains the title.”

 

King: “I’m telling you, this is like the days of Big Time Wrestling in Detroit. Much like The Sheik was unbeatable as United States Champion all those years…well, so is Jay Hawke as International Champion right now. But you know the difference?”

 

Pete: “What’s that?”

 

King: “Jay Hawke’s ten times the technician The Sheik ever was.”

 

Pete: “At any rate, a tremendous effort for Wes Davenport, and we’ve still got a long way to go here at Ramadomination!”

Edited December 19, 2005 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

TALE OF THE TAPE

 

JJ Johnson

Age: 22

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 219 lbs.

Bench: 335 lbs.

Move List: 27 practiced, 5 variables

Finisher(s): Anaconda Vice, Air Canada

Accomplishments: Former SWF Hardcore Gamer's Champion, current SWF Cruiserweight Champion (longest ever), Cold Front Classic finalist (#1 seed)

Last Five: 5-0

 

TORU Takahara

Age: 28

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 264lbs

Bench: 400 lbs

Move List: 12 practiced moves, 13 variables.

Finisher(s): Shooting Star Press, Tiger Driver

Accomplishments: Current SWF Tag Team Champion (w/KOJI Kitano), Cold Front Classic finalist (#7 seed)

Last Five: 5-0

 

POWER ADVANTAGE: TORU Takahara

LEVERAGE ADVANTAGE: JJ Johnson

SPEED ADVANTAGE: JJ Johnson

EXPERIENCE ADVANTAGE: TORU Takahara

TECHNICAL ADVANTAGE: JJ Johnson

HOT/COLD: Push

OVERALL ADVANTAGE: JJ Johnson

 

 

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

 

 

 

The camera fades back into SWF Ramadomination, the obviously SWF-starved Saudi Arabian fans packing the massive Mosque of the Prophet to the gills, holding such signs as “RAMADAN IS IN OCTOBER”, “TORU HAMMER!(S KOJI!)”, and “WHY ARE OUR SIGNS IN ENGLISH?!” The camera picks up a few more signs (“LOOK, MOSQUE, I’M ON TV!” is one Gus thankfully keeps out of view), then swoops its way over to the announce table, where Longdogger Pete and the Suicide King are waiting as always.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” begins the Miami Menace over the roar of the fans, “it is that time again. Last year, it was Landon Maddix facing Andrew “Sacred” Blackwell, and it took place a few shows before Slay Ride. However, we decided that a match like this is far too important to put on free TV, which is why we’re bringing it to YOU” - at this, Pete points at the camera - “on pay-per-view tonight. Folks, it’s time for the Cold Front Classic finals.”

 

“It sure is, Pete,” says King. “It sure is. And I, for one, am anxious for Johnson to hurry up and win this, and send TORU scurrying back to the midcard while Johnson goes on to glory at the Clusterfuck! Just think about it, Pete! JJ Johnson vs. El Luchadore Magnifico!”

 

“Or Todd Cortez. But that’s a different match entirely,” says the Longdogger, reminding the Heartbreaker that, you know, Magnifico isn’t the only person in the main event. “As for your second point, it will be extraordinarily difficult for Johnson to put TORU away quickly, for two reasons. One, because Takahara is made of extremely tough stuff, and I doubt that anybody has the ability to put him down quickly, and two, because it’s two out of three falls! It’s J3 vs. T2, and it’s right now!”

 

“Pete, if you ever say anything as stupid as ‘J3 vs. T2’ ever again, I will-”

 

 

But King is cut off by the bouncing beats that signify the beginning of Therapy?’s “Teethgrinder”, thumping through the speakers set up in strategic locations throughout the Masjid Al-Nabawi. Which is probably a good thing.The monotonous tones are slightly abrasive, more aggravated by the fact that the Saudis aren’t used to them, but they still receive a reaction as they make it apparent to the fans an important match is beginning soon. The guitars kick in, playing the main riff, and it is at this point that a trenchcoated figure makes his way out, accompanied by a well-dressed man and...well, a goth bitch. He starts down the ramp, looking all around the balconies and shining floors of the Mosque of the Prophet from behind his sunglasses, then, reaching the ring, waits for Natasha to remove his trenchcoat before stepping up onto the apron and vaulting himself over the ropes, striding to the corner and beginning to stretch. This match is entirely too important to mess something up.

 

Everything feels good, nothin’ can stop me

Every nerve pumpin’ hard through me

Every thought rushes at full speed

This false smile grates through babyteeth

 

TEETHGRINDER!

 

 

Content with his stretching, Takahara sits back in his corner and looks down at Chris Card, who’s trying to shout strategy to him over the buzz of the fans in the mosque. He listens intently, calm and focused, prepared for the battle ahead...

 

 

 

...as the lights, as best they can in a mosque with no roof, drop out.

 

 

 

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

 

 

A red light and a white light blast into life in front of the Smarktron, the two grungy opening tones of “Scapegoat” hitting the poor, musically assaulted fans harder than even “Teethgrinder” did. The lights flash again, and this time the Smarktron comes to life as well, showing various highlights from JJ Johnson’s matches - dropping Scott Pretzler on his head with a dragon suplex, spiralling down on El Luchadore Magnifico, and wrapping Zyon spine-first around the ring post with a wrist-clutch Exploder. The song picks up the pace, and the lights fade up to a deep red as smoke begins billowing out of the entranceway, fully prepared for the number one seed...

 

 

RRRRRRRAAAAAHHH!!!!

 

 

...and the throaty growl of Burton C. Bell that habitually precedes him! There’s an undiscernable figure in the smoke, striding through as various flashes of light highlight his frame, before he bursts out and into the public eye, his eyes locked on the ring.

 

 

 

“BOOOOOOO!”

 

 

The fans show their distaste for him more audibly than they did for TORU, but he pays them no mind as he trots down the ramp, his belt slung over his shoulder, his hair glistening in the light of both the lights in the mosque and that of the Arabian moon. He brushes past Card and Natasha, paying them absolutely zero mind as he jogs up the steps and steps into the ring before hopping up to the second rope and staring out at the various fans, some of which literally hanging from the rafters, before stepping back down and turning to face the middle of the ring for introductions. Funyon slides into the ring as always with a big smile on his face, the massive Oregonian lifting the microphone to his mouth as he begins to do what he does best.

 

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a two-out-of-three falls Cold Front Classic finals match, and it is for the number one contendership to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Championship of the World!”

 

“YEEEEAAAAAHH!!!”

 

 

 

 

“Introducing first, on my right, in the purple-and-black shorts. He stands 6 feet 4 inches tall, and weighs in tonight at a solid 262 pounds. From Saitama Prefecture, Japan, he is one half of the World Tag Team Champions and the number 7 seed in the Cold Front Classic...TO-RUUUU! TAAAKAAAHAAARAAAA!!!”

 

 

 

“BOOOOO!”

 

 

 

TORU smirks, then immediately - and disrespectfully - turns away from Johnson to talk some more strategy with Card. Johnson’s eyes narrow, and he is already noticeably angry before Funyon even begins his introductions.

 

 

“And his opponent, on my left, in the red shorts with the white trim. He stands 6 feet, 1 inch tall, and weighs in tonight at 219 pounds. From Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he is the longest-reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time and the number 1 seed in the Cold Front Classic...J! J! JOOOOHHNNNN-SSOONNN!!!”

 

 

 

The Canadian throws up the usual MMA fist, then strips off his track jacket and hands both that and his belt to referee Blaine Kalem, who takes them before heading over to TORU and holding his hand out for the Japanese Hammer’s sunglasses. One angry glare later, and Kalem walks - sans sunglasses - over to the corner of the ring, where he hands his loot to the ring-weary David Blazenwing before backing into a position where he’s able to watch all the action in the ring and signals for the bell.

 

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

 

Johnson and TORU immediately move forward, both men getting in the other’s face, neither man willing to back down. Takahara flexes his impressive muscles in an attempt to intimidate the Canadian – or, perhaps, distract him, if he swings that way. Unfortunately for TORU, Johnson is neither intimidated nor homosexual, and the 6’1”Cruiserweight Champion refuses to give up any ground to the massive Saitaman. The fans begin to grow restless as neither man does anything, and to be fair, TORU is getting pretty bored as well. Deciding to spice things up a bit, the man from the Land of the Rising Sun lifts his arm and gives Johnson a few pats on the cheek…then a hard one, the sound of which rings out into the Saudi Arabian night. Johnson’s eyes narrow with rage, and TORU, realizing that his tactic has succeeded in doing what it meant to do, grins.

 

 

 

*SMAAAACK!!!*

 

 

 

He only grins for so long, however, as Johnson draws his arm back and sends both the grin and his sunglasses sailing clear off of his face! The UV-protecting eyewear lands hard on the mat, and TORU’s eyes go wide with rage. But Johnson’s not done yet. He thinks a moment as Takahara stews, then strides over, raises his foot high…

 

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

 

…and brings it down hard on the sunglasses, mangling the frame and shattering the lenses into pieces! The T in TKO’s eyes go from wide with rage to bugged out of his head, and his mouth in such a grimace as to make you think his lips were going to fall clean off of his face. Then, as he stares a hole through his opponent, the Canadian simply raises his hand and extends his middle finger.

 

 

“Johnson…you might not want to piss off TORU…” worries Pete, and his worrying is with good founding, as TORU chooses that exact moment to snap. With an animalistic scream, the Saitaman rushes forward…

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

…and gets dropped face-first to the mat with a drop toe hold! Johnson immediately scoots around and transitions to a front facelock, his free arm going towards an underhook, then rolls to his side and, with a bit of effort, stacks TORU on his shoulders for the first pin of the match!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

T-But TORU rolls out, straight to a seated position…and Johnson scoots in, securing a rear chickenwing and using it to leverage Takahara over his torso onto his shoulders for a second flash pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TW-But TORU gets out again, this time rolling backwards, and lunges forward with a punch aimed directly at Johnson’s face! Johnson is too fast, though, rolling out of the way as Takahara’s hand goes sailing by, and then takes advantage by diving over the now hands-and-knees-ridden tag champion with an Oklahoma Roll!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH-But TORU gets his shoulders off of the mat YET AGAIN, this time rolling forwards to a seated position. Johnson tries for the rear chickenwing leverage pin again, but Takahara has that scouted this time, and throws his arm back to elbow the Canadian in the ribs! The Ultimate Fighter, once again, is a bit too fast for that, traps the arm, and with a groan manages to pull the massive Saitaman over his back and onto his shoulders with a ground backslide!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

TH-And yet another backwards rolls makes sure TORU doesn’t lose the first fall early, this time getting to his feet and dashing forwards before planting his foot into the one-kneed Johnson’s hip and bringing his other around for his shining enzuigiri!

 

 

*WHOOSH!*

 

 

Johnson had that scouted back against Spike, and that doesn’t change here, the Canadian ducking before the boot can send his head sailing into the crowd gathered around the ring as a memento for Card and Natasha to hang on their wall. TORU lands hard on his stomach, but is quick to roll to the ropes, making damn sure that he doesn’t get caught in another endless chain of flash pins and rollups and end up having to win two straight falls.

 

 

“What beautiful chain wrestling from Johnson!” exclaims King. “If he can just keep Takahara down on the mat like he’s been doing, he’ll eventually tire him out and possibly win the match using nothing but pins!”

 

“Yes, but that’s not Johnson’s style, King,” notes Pete. “Johnson wrestles a much more ground-and-pound style, and I think it’s going to take a traumatic event to force him to deviate from what has served him so well in the past few months.”

 

 

Johnson rolls to his feet at the same time TORU pulls himself up on the ropes, and both stride towards each other, meeting in the middle of the ring and engaging in a collar-and-elbow tie-up! The two men jockey for a moment, then Takahara surges forward and sends the number one seed tumbling head-over-heels on the mat. The Canadian is quick to make sure the heels he tumbles over hit the ground, as well as the rest of his feet, and he sprints forward and gets into another collar-and-elbow tie-up! TORU doesn’t bother jockeying this time, deciding to skip that step and go straight to “show off power by swatting opponent away like fly.” Johnson rolls again, ends up on his feet once more, and shakes his head from the dizziness and dashes forward into ANOTHER collar-and-elbow tie-up!

 

“What is Johnson doing here?” asks Pete. “Doesn’t he know that, strength-wise, TORU has him hopelessly outmatched?”

 

 

But it seems that he does, as when Takahara thrusts this time, Johnson is waiting, breaking the tie-up and ducking under the tag champ’s arms before turning on the spot and grabbing the Saitaman in a rear waistlock!

 

 

“DANGEROUS GERMAN!” shouts King.

 

 

But it is not to be, as TORU is quick to spread his legs and try and shift his weight as low as he can in order to prevent being dumped on his neck. Johnson tries lifting, ducking low before shooting up and tugging…

 

 

 

…but Takahara doesn’t come off the ground. Johnson rocks him with an elbow to the back of the head in an attempt to soften him up, then ducks and lifts…

 

 

 

…but again, nothing. TORU begins to get arrogant, and starts throwing elbows behind him as per Chris Card’s advice from the outside, but the Canadian has another trick up his sleeve, using his grip on the waist of his opponent to turn himself in mid-air, ending up upside down before rolling forward and using his grip to tug Takahara into a sunset flip!

 

 

ON-

 

 

-but TORU rolls through, using his momentum to carry himself onto his knees…

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

“OOOOOHH!!”

 

 

 

…where Johnson lashes his foot out, cracking the heel of his boot off of the jaw of the tag team champion! TORU sways, obviously knocked slightly off-balance by the strike, but manages to shake his head and get the cobwebs out of it.

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

“OOOOOHH!!”

 

 

The cobwebs aren’t gone for long, though, as the cruiserweight champion draws his leg back before bringing it down heel-first into TORU’s skull with a vicious axe kick! NOW Takahara falls, rolling onto his side as Card continues to shout advice in Japanese, advice that the man is really in no condition to hear right now. He’s snapped out of unconsciousness soon, however, as Johnson sits up before scrambling over and, with a quick drape of the legs over the chest of the man from Japan, pulling back with a juji-gatame!

 

 

“BOOOOOOO!”

 

 

“JUJI-GATAME!” shouts King, obviously more pleased with the hold than the Saudi crowd is. “This fall could be over almost before it even begins!”

 

 

TORU is a bit too close to the ropes, however, and lashes his free hand around the bottom strand, holding on like a madman waiting for Kalem to step in and break the hold.

 

 

Unfortunately, Johnson is also holding on like a madman. Kalem is quick to notice this, and quickly reprimands the Canadian for his illegal ways. Johnson pays him no mind, however, and so the referee is simply forced to make his count as Takahara grits his teeth, obviously in extreme pain.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FI-And Johnson breaks, immediately releasing the arm and rolling backwards. TORU’s reaction is equally immediate, tucking the wounded limb to his chest and cradling it as if it were a baby, attempting to rub some feeling into it – or out of it – before he latches on to the second rope with his other arm and pulls himself to his feet. There’s no rest for the weary when Johnson’s in the ring, though, and he proves it by dashing in and gripping Takahara’s waist from the side before bringing him over and dumping him on his neck with a briding saito suplex!

 

 

“Saito suplex! One of the more effective suplexes in Johnson’s wide variety,” King points out as Kalem slides in to make the count on the pinned Saitaman.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

TORU shoots his arm up just after two, then immediately realizes that he lifted the wounded arm and grabs at it for a moment, rolling into a seated position. But Johnson is on the prowl once more, and he shoots in, wrapping his arm around the thick neck of the Japanese Hammer before taking his other arm and trapping the wounded arm of Takahara under it, linking hands to fully complete…

 

 

“…the Buffalo Sleeper!” cries King as TORU immediately begins grasping at his throat, attempting to relieve some of the pressure on both it and his shoulder. “You have to admit here, Pete, that Johnson has a solid strategy. Wear the big man down with the strikes and holds, and the occasional suplex, then go for the kill when he’s at his weakest!”

 

 

“Well, I can’t fault his mindset,” admits Pete with a shrug. “But if Takahara makes him mad enough, or nails one of those big knees, it could be enough to cause him to make a poor decision and turn the tides in TORU’s favor.”

 

 

TORU looks like he could use some tides in his favor as his face slowly begins to turn purple, grimacing both from lack of oxygen and from the twinges of pain shooting from his elbow as Johnson wrenches on the hold. However, Takahara isn’t out of the fight just yet, and he brings his other arm up and wraps it around the back of Johnson’s head before attempting to pull him over his shoulder with a snapmare. He doesn’t have the leverage, though, and the Canadian happily maintains the hold.

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

“YEEEAAAHH!!”

 

 

What Takahara lacks in leverage, however, he makes up for in flexibility, and he uses the positioning of Johnson’s head to his advantage by bringing his knee up and smashing in into the forehead of the Ultimate Fighter! Johnson’s eyes glaze over, and he relinquishes the hold, slumping over onto his stomach as TORU rubs at his shoulder, wheezing for breath.

 

 

“Just like I said, King! One of those big knees, and Johnson’s offense is completely derailed!” grins Pete.

 

“That’s true, Drain-Clogger,” admits the Heartbreaker, albeit begrudgingly. “But can he capitalize? Does he have the energy left in him after that sleeper to take advantage of his newfound momentum?”

 

 

It looks like the Saitaman does, as he gets up to one knee, then his feet, before reaching down and wrapping his arms around Johnson’s stomach. A grunt and a lift later, Johnson is doubled over on his feet, and it is the work of a moment for Takahara to bend down and scoop the Canadian onto his shoulder, then sling him down across his knee with a backbreaker! The Ultimate Fighter goes spasming to the mat, and TORU rolls him onto his stomach before getting to his feet, sprinting to the ropes, and taking to the air upon his return before crashing down on Johnson’s kidney’s with a knee drop!

 

 

“Oklahoma slam backbreaker, followed by a standing TORU Hammer!” shouts Pete as King looks slightly worried. “And it looks like TORU most certainly CAN take advantage!”

 

 

The big man rolls the aching Johnson onto his back, then hooks a leg, drawing Johnson’s far arm close with his free hand as Kalem drops for the count.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TW-But Johnson is made of far tougher stuff than a backbreaker and a kneedrop, and kicks out around one and one-half. This infuriates TORU to no end, and he quickly rolls to his knees before getting in the face of the Canadian, shouting in Japanese at the downed Ultimate Fighter.

 

”Buta-inu kanadajin! Taizai umou!”

 

*CRACK!*

 

Unfortunately for TORU, if there’s two things Johnson hates, it’s being called a pigdog Canadian and being told to stay down. Takahara breaks both of those rules, and so Johnson is forced to punish him via a hard kick to the back of the head! TORU is understandably distracted, if only momentarily, but that moment is all Johnson needs to roll to his feet. TORU stands, advancing towards the Canadian...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and being rewarded for his straightforwardness with an elbow smash! For his part, Takahara mostly shakes it off, grinning slightly. Johnson arches an eyebrow - normally his elbows at least faze the opponent. Johnson himself is unfazed, however...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...and so blasts Takahara with another elbow! The Japanese Hammer isn’t grinning after this one, but he’s certainly not out of his senses, and he retaliates with a forearm!

 

*CRACK!*

 

TORU puts enough force behind the blow to stagger the number one seed, but the Canadian is tougher than a man his size has any right to be, and abandons the elbows to go back to what brought him to the dance, launching a roundhouse kick that sends the Saitaman’s head swiveling on his neck like some sort of owl!

 

*CRAACK!*

 

NOW TORU staggers, knocked slightly silly by the forceful blow. Realizing he’s found an opening here, Johnson steps in with a second roundhouse, this one to the temple!

 

 

*CRAAACK!*

 

 

TORU falls to one knee, his head bobbing on his shoulders like some sort of bird - or a drunkard. Card and Natasha shout encouragements to him, and he stands right back up just in time for Johnson to launch himself in the air with a spin kick in mind!

 

*CRRACK!*

 

“OOOHH!!!”

 

You can’t always get what you want, however, a realization that strikes Johnson almost as hard as the subsequent knee to the spine from TORU does. Johnson lands on his feet, but is obviously aching, which isn’t helped at all when Takahara spins him around and buries a knee in his gut...

 

“OOF!”

 

...then launches a knee right to the head of the newly doubled-over Johnson!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“Look at that, King!” cries Pete as Johnson staggers into the ropes, more than likely out on his feet. “Johnson hits TORU with repeated blows to the head - two knees later, the Japanese Hammer is back in control! Is this power advantage too much for Johnson to overcome?”

 

King is simply silent as Johnson staggers back towards TORU, throwing a half-hearted elbow. That’s easily blocked, and the massive Saitaman simply reaches down and scoops Johnson onto his shoulders for another Oklahoma slam backbreaker...

 

 

 

...but Johnson slips over his shoulder, trapping him in a rear facelock before hooking one of Takahara’s legs, lifting (with considerable effort) and sitting out!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

“BOOOOO!”?

 

“CODEBREAKER!” shouts King as TORU’s head bounces off of the mat, Johnson obviously putting a lot of effort in keeping the leg he hooked cradled. “Johnson turns a rear facelock into a modified version of Landon’s old sitout Sliced Bread! What innovation!”

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH-NO! TORU breaks his leg free of the cradle and gets both shoulders off of the mat, sitting straight up out of the relatively ineffective pin Johnson had him in. The Canadian rolls to his feet immediately, and rushes forward in an attempt to apply some sort of sleeper hold, but TORU, beast that he is, simply grabs Johnson around the ribs and hurls him into the corner before standing up. He won’t be up for long, though, as Johnson rushes out of the corner, swinging his arm for his signature shotgun lariat!

 

 

*SMAAA-AAAACKK!!!*

 

 

 

“What the fuck.”

 

 

In an odd coincidence, both JJ Johnson and Suicide King mouth this at the same time. Chris Card grins, Natasha looks at her nails, and the Saudi Arabian crowd looks on, just as stunned as Johnson and Applewhite are.

 

But despite their disbelief, there stands TORU, looking down at the Canadian’s arm and grinning, a toothy gesture that manages to suck the light out of the various lights around the mosque and reflect it back simultaneously, and that combined with the size and physique of the Takahara gives off the appearance of a demigod, one who cannot be harmed by mere mortals. Johnson may be a mere mortal, but he’ll be damned if he’s just going to lay down and die because of it, and so he backs into the ropes once more before launching himself at the massive Asian with another shotgun lariat!

 

 

*SMAAA-AAAACKK!!!*

 

 

 

But again, TORU simply stands there, smiling at the Ultimate Fighter. The Canadian stares back defiantly, and the two lock eyes before Johnson mouths “Okay then, you do it.” Takahara jumps at the chance to embarass the Canadian again, and nods before sprinting to the opposite ropes.

 

 

It’s just too bad Johnson stuck his boot in the way.

 

 

*BANG!*

 

“BWAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

 

 

Despite themselves, the Saudis have a hearty chuckle at Takahara’s pratfall as Card slaps his forehead, shaking his head, wondering why, exactly, TORU would decide that listening to the opponent is a good idea.

 

“Well, that was...unique...” says Pete, trying his damnedest to keep from bursting out into full-on laughter.

 

“We saw TORU pull that one out on Marcus Ward back at Genesis, Pete,” chuckles King. “Johnson’s simply playing TORU’s game right now in an attempt to draw the big lug off of his mark.”

 

“You know, now that you mention it, Takahara has been awfully well-behaved throughout this match,” ponders the Miami Menace, now pensive as a furious Japanese Hammer begins to push himself off the canvas. He’s no match for Johnson’s speed, however, and the Canadian takes advantage of this by shooting in and hooking the man formerly known as Turbo Takahara in an STF!

 

“STF!” shouts King, perhaps overreacting for the ridiculously simple hold. “Johnson always seems to be able to lock on submissions out of nowhere, which is part of what makes him so dangerous. He can put you in a position to have a lot of damage done to you, and he can do it very, very quickly.”

 

 

Johnson wrenches back on the facelock, TORU’s face mostly invisible as he reaches an arm out for ropes that are entirely too far away to reach. Both pain and worry are visible in his eyes, but for every ounce of worry, there’s a solid pound of muscle, and the Saitaman takes a deep breath before muscling himself up and beginning to crabwalk to the ropes, carrying a very angry Canadian on his back as pain shoots down his neck. The crowd begins to get louder as TORU gets closer to the ropes, having decided that they’re going to cheer for the one at the disadvantage.

 

 

Three feet.

 

 

Two feet, six inches.

 

 

Two feet.

 

 

One foot, six inches.

 

 

One foot.

 

 

Six inches.

 

 

And then he is there, bringing his outreached hand down, on a neck-saving collision course with the ropes…

 

“YEEEAAA-“

 

 

 

…and Johnson rolls, carrying TORU with him as he performs a full six rotations before ending up on his back in the middle of the ring!

 

“-AAAAWWW!”

 

 

Takahara is weighing him down, but the STF’s pain is magnified as the Japanese Hammer’s eyes grow wide. Card begins banging on the apron, and the Goth Bitch that is Natasha actually begins to take a vaunted interest in the action in the ring as TORU writhes, attempting to at least roll back onto his stomach, where the pain is less than the searing sensation that it’s at right now.

 

 

“FTS!” shouts King, as if they’re replaying the last three minutes of the Bizarro World edition of Ramadomination. “Johnson knew TORU was about to grab the ropes, so he rolls him into the center of the ring, AND makes it harder on the neck of that Jap!”

 

 

“BRIAN!” scolds Pete, shocked. “Don’t say Jap, it’s offensive.”

 

 

“Fine,” sighs King. Then, under his breath, “…mick.”

 

 

“WHAT WAS THAT!?”

 

 

The Japanese Hammer continues thrashing about, Johnson holding on to the submission for dear life as if he were riding a bucking bronco instead of an opponent. Finally, the Saitaman calms down enough to realize an intelligent course of action, and so with his free leg he manages to tilt himself up, pinning an unsuspecting Canadian on his shoulders!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR-But Johnson realizes what’s happening just in time and releases the hold as he rolls up to one shoulder! TORU rolls away, and gets to his feet before Johnson can, throwing a punch at the rising Ultimate Fighter. The Canadian is craftier, though, and he ducks under the blow before tucking himself close to Takahara’s body and lifting for a saito suplex…

 

 

 

 

…but this time, TORU is ready, and simply sticks his leg between’s Johnson, thoroughly shutting down any plans the battered opponent had to dump him on his neck. A quick open-handed slap to the shoulder further distracts Johnson, and gives him the mere moment he needs to grab Johnson around the waist, scoop him up, and drop him across his knee with a pendulum backbreaker! The Canadian spasms, as is the norm when being backbroken, but Takahara isn’t done yet, standing back upright and preparing to traumatize the tenacious Ultimate Fighter’s spine once more…

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

…but it is not to be, as Johnson fires his leg backwards and ends up catching TORU in the nose with his knee. Needless to say, TORU’s thought process becomes vastly different as the slightest streak of plasma begins leaking out of his nostrils, and his grip loosens enough for Johnson to land back on his feet. From there, it is the work of a moment to use his current arm grip, reach down with his other arm, hook a leg, and then lift the man from the Land of the Rising Sun into the air before dropping him across his knee with a suastica backbreaker!

 

 

“SUASTICA!” shouts Pete. “Perfected by CMLL star El Nazi back in the 1950s, Johnson utilized that move as crisply as I’ve seen it done, although I’m surprised he still has the strength to lift Takahara with the pounding his spine has taken.”

 

“El Nazi, eh?” asks King, no doubt amused. “’Suastica’ must be Spanish for something…but what?”

 

 

As King ponders, and Pete stares blankly, trying to determine if the Heartbreaker is serious, the Canadian shoves his spinally-tapped opponent off of his knee before wrapping his legs around Takahara’s arm and pulling back with a juji-gatame!

 

 

“BOOOOOO!”

 

The fans are peeved as Johnson locks on his most painful hold, being sure to wrench and tug around the elbow as pain shoots up TORU’s arm. Fortunately, the scrambling skills TORU picked up in the FTS are still readily available to him here, and he’s quicker than ever to scramble to the ropes, wrapping his free arm in a death grip about the bottom strand once more! The entire mosque, save two individuals, heaves a sigh of relief…then gets right back to booing once they realize that Johnson has yet to relieve the hold! Kalem steps in once more as TORU gets back to what he was doing before the rope break – namely, screaming in pain – and the count begins again.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FI-And Johnson releases, rolling to his feet and taking a few steps back. TORU is cautious as he lifts himself to his feet, being sure to cradle his wounded arm close to his chest as he rises. Johnson, however, has better plans, sprinting right at the Japanese Hammer!

 

 

And being back body dropped over the top rope! The entire arena gasps, despite their disapproval for Johnson, but as soon as it’s revealed the Canadian grabbed a hold of the ropes on his way down and is now safe, they go back to cheering TORU on. Johnson, however, is more athletic than that, and simply hoists himself back up, skinning the cat. Instead of pulling himself into the ring, though, Johnson performs a cartwheel and ends up on the apron, from where he scales the ropes! Card screams at TORU to look out behind him, but it’s too late for Takahara to turn as Johnson launches himself from the highest strand straight at the Saitaman, catching him in the back of the head with what could best be described as an elbow suicida!

 

 

“Elbow suicida, minus the suicida!” cries King as Takahara staggers, but as is usual, does not fall. “Diving elbow smash to the back of the head, and that’s not going to do TORU any favors!”

 

 

Indeed it isn’t, the Japanese Hammer taking a moment to recover. However, Johnson catches him taking that moment, and responds by delivering a second hard elbow to the back of the head before grabbing him around the waist and lifting!

 

 

But TORU doesn’t go! Despite having his brains scrabbled for the second time in 15 seconds, Takahara still has enough of his wits about him to know to block the Dangerous German. With Johnson thwarted, TORU performs a standing switch, then tucks his head under Johnson’s arm and lifts him up into back suplex position before holding him there…

 

 

“TORU looking for his TORU Bomb, that back suplex to chokeslam…” begins Pete.

 

 

…but his prediction, while technically accurate, does not come true, as Johnson continues the momentum he gained from the lift and backflips over the massive Japanese man. TORU is stunned, and it is this fact that Johnson takes advantage of, grabbing Takahara around the waist before TAKING HIM UP, OVER, AND ONTO HIS HEAD WITH A DANGEROUS GERMAN!!

 

 

*CRUNCH!*[/b}

 

 

 

“BOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

“DANGEROUSGERMAAAAAAANN~!” booms King, his words mixing into one as TORU skids and lands on his stomach, Card going from looking worried to looking begrudgingly optimistic – “Thank God it’s 2/3 falls” – as Johnson sits up, breathing heavily from the effort it took to deliver the maneuver. “Dangerous German suplex, and it’s thanks to that move that Johnson is the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time! First fall goes to Johnson!”

 

 

It certainly looks that way as the Canadian rolls the lifeless Takahara over, pinning his shoulders to the mat for the academic count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It would help at this point to note that the academic count is from a very, very low quality academy.

 

 

 

 

 

”YYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!”

 

 

 

The uproar of the crowd could only possibly be matched if Todd Cortez were to defeat El Luchadore Magnifico tonight as Takahara fires a shoulder off of the mat, Card throwing his hands up in an act of rejoice as Natasha begins a polite golf clap, knowing full well what the Japanese Hammer just did was most impressive indeed. In case anybody was dubious about Takahara’s apparent invincibility, Kalem is quick to shoot two fingers into the air, showing to the world that TORU did, indeed, survive the Dangerous German.

 

 

“TWO COUNT!” cries Pete. “TWO COUNT! TORU takes the Dangerous German, after so much of Johnson’s attack focused on the neck, and he kicks out! TORU has taken a licking, and he continues to tick as we continue the first fall!”

 

 

“STEROIDS! METHAMPHETAMINES! SUPERPOWERS!” shouts King, random excuses usually a good sign that he is enraged as the Japanese Hammer sits up, shaking his head and blinking very, very slowly, Johnson having rolled to the side and lain, face down, possibly pondering how in God’s name, after the beating Takahara’s neck just took, that the Japanese Hammer survived what may well be his money move. He and King are the only real ones with complaints, however, as the fans range from indifferent-leaning-towards-happy to euphoric. Johnson rolls onto his back, staring at the Arabian sky. TORU starts making his way to his feet, and Johnson knows that he can’t lollygag for long, and so begins to make his own ascent to a standing position.

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

One that is unfortunately interrupted by a TORU Takahara running knee to the face! Johnson starts to fall, but TORU grabs him and nails him with another knee!

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

Johnson is pretty much out on his feet now, and so it is the work of a moment for the massive Takahara to apply a standing headscissors.

 

 

 

Underhook one arm.

 

 

 

Underhook the other arm.

 

 

Lift…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and Johnson plants a foot on his chest and shoves himself away, landing hard on his back and rolling through as TORU falls to a seated position! Unfortunately, he does so minus Johnson, and it leaves him somewhat shell-shocked…even more so when Johnson comes jogging up, leaps into the air…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

…and waits a moment before shoving his feet through the face of TORU with a hesitation dropkick! TORU, having befallen the same fate that Spike did some 9 days ago, performs the same action Spike did, going down hard on his back as Johnson dives in for a cover!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH-TORU KICKS OUT! It comes as a shock to few that the Japanese Hammer was not vanquished by a dropkick, but Johnson is still slightly disappointed as he drags TORU to his feet, preparing for his next move. Takahara tries a knee, but Johnson parries that…

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

…before thrusting with an elbow smash! This one slams hard into the nose of Takahara, and the semi-giant closes his eyes and moans as pain shoots through his head. With his eyes closed, however, he has a complete and total inability to watch Johnson’s action…

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

…particularly the European-style elbow smash that comes slicing up through his jaw and sends his head snapping back! His eyes shoot open, but he stays looking at the lights for a moment before looking back down…

 

 

 

*CA-RAAAACKK!!*

 

 

 

…just as Johnson completes his spin and knocks his block off with a rolling elbow! Takahara staggers, and his eyes glaze over, but he doesn’t go down, and so Johnson decides that elbows aren’t working. He’ll have to try something a little more dynamic. And so he sprints to the ropes as fast as he can, fully prepared for his ensuing launch into the stratosphere to remove the head of the giant before him. Takahara has other plans, however, and charges towards the speedy Canadian, arm drawn back with a lariat in mind, lashing it through the air towards the head of the Ultimate Fighter as he approaches!

 

 

It is at that moment that Johnson takes to the air, foot extended, and the unstoppable force that is his kick comes colliding with the immovable object that is TORU’s shoulder, and the object becomes not so immovable, nearly being shoved out of its socket by the power of the strike! Takahara himself is spun on impact, the momentum knocking his momentum completely out of whack as pain shoots through his limb. He completes a full clockwise rotation, his arm extended, and before TORU can realize that he has an arm completely open to any attack, Johnson pounces, grabbing the arm in a firm grip and, with a swing of his own arm, smashing the Sheer Brawn from Nihon’s shoulder into the mat with a Fujiwara takedown! The pain that is already shooting down his arm intensifies, and Takahara lets out a low groan as Johnson wrenches back on the hold!

 

 

“Fujiwara armbar!” cries King. “After the beating TORU’s arm has taken the whole match, I wouldn’t be surprised if this ended the first fall right here!”

 

 

“Yeah, that’s what you said about the Dangerous German,” mutters the Longdogger as every vein in TORU’s body seems to stand out, attempting to power his way free of the painful joint lock. Johnson has it locked on solidly, but there is a counter, and Card shouts the instructions in his flawless Japanese.

 

 

”Ro-ru kara! Ro-ru kara!”

 

 

TORU looks at Technical Perfection in a way that suggests Takahara is questioning his sanity. After all, does it look like he’s in a position to roll through? But then Johnson wrenches further on the hold, and the Saitaman realizes he has little choice. And so, with a scream of pain and effort, TORU shoves himself up on his free hand, and with a little boost from his legs, rolls through onto his back. The pain is relieved, as is Card, but then the Nottingham native realizes what Johnson is doing, and immediately begins shouting new instructions.

 

”Tokei tai sono…”

 

 

But Card cannot finish his sentence fast enough, and Johnson manages to complete his plan by wrapping his legs across Takahara’s chest and wrenching back on the arm, this time without any ropes for TORU to scramble to!

 

 

”…juji-gatame,” sighs Technical Perfection, but it’s far too late as the Japanese Hammer sits bolt upright, attempting to relieve the pressure!

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

Johnson realizes that leverage for victory is a very fine trade indeed, and so releases half of the hold with one leg just long enough to drive his boot into the nipponjin’s face, driving him back onto his back! TORU glances around the mosque, noting the worried look on Card’s face, the slightly interested look on Natasha’s face, and the mixed emotions of the fans’ faces…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and then the fact that his elbow is tearing in half becomes the number one priority in making his decision.

 

 

*TAP TAP TAP!*

“BOOOOO!!”

 

 

 

 

“YES~!” screams King. “Chalk a fall up for Johnson, baby!”

 

 

 

DING!

 

 

“The winner of the first fall, by submission...J! J! JOHNSON!” shouts Funyon.

 

Johnson holds on to the hold after the bell, continuing to wrench back as Takahara begins throwing desperation fists in an attempt to dislodge the Canadian. Kalem begins his count, threatening to disqualify the Canadian entirely if he doesn’t break by five, and Johnson ignores him as Kalem begins to take the last action he really can.

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

 

FI-and Johnson releases.

 

 

“Johnson continues to do that. He continues to hold onto that submission after being ordered to break it, and I think that’s just dishonorable,” says Pete, a bit angered at Johnson’s semi-questionable tactics.

 

“Nonsense. It’s not against the rules, and would you want to face a perfectly healthy TORU?” inquires King, which draws a look of begrudging thoughtfulness from the Longdogger. “It’s just good strategy on the part of our Cruiserweight Champion.”

 

Now that combat has been discontinued, Kalem orders both men to fully separate, and the first of what will be two fifteen-second rest periods begins. Card and Natasha immediately slide into the ring and begin to tend to Takahara’s arm, the Japanese Hammer grimacing with even the slightest touch as his elbow begins to swell. There’s no ice available, and it’s not like there’s enough time in the rest period to give the joint a good icing down anyway, so Card and Natasha tell Takahara he simply has to suck it up. Johnson, on the other hand, simply sits in the corner, cracking his muscles and waiting for the time limit to expire. About the same time TORU’s escorts finish their speech, checks the Smarktron, and realizes that the double-zero on the timer means it’s probably a good idea to begin the second fall. A quick signal to the battle-scarred David Blazenwing…

 

 

 

DING!

 

 

 

…and the second fall is underway. TORU gets to his feet with ease, while Johnson pulls himself up on the ropes to save energy. The two move towards each other, looking for a collar-and-elbow tie-up…

 

 

*CRACK!*[/b}

 

 

 

…but TORU has other plans, using the positioning of his arms in the tie-up to bring Johnson’s head down onto his knee! TORU unleashes two more vicious knee strikes…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

 

 

 

…then stands the woozy Canadian upright, leaps into the air…

 

 

 

*CRAAAACK!*

 

 

 

…and sends his foot flying into Johnson’s face with a gamengiri! The Ultimate Fighter staggers, then slumps uselessly to the floor, but TORU grabs him before he hits the ground and puts him back upright before whipping him to the ropes! Johnson bounces off of the strands, looking completely out of it…except for the perhaps instinctive lariat he sends cruising TORU’s way!

 

 

*SMAAAACK!*

 

 

TORU is stunned, and Johnson gives his head a quick shake to clear it before snaring the Japanese Hammer in a side headlock and returning the favor from earlier…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…by letting loose with some Kawada knees! The crowd begins to stand as Takahara is more and more battered, the noise level rising in the arena...

 

 

 

*CRA*THWAP!*

 

 

Johnson blanches, but he has little time to do anything else as, with an inhuman roar, Takahara lifts Johnson into the air before turning him inwards and planting his hand into the throat as he drives him into the mat with his Ore Ga TORU backdrop chokeslam!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

 

“I AM TORU!” screams the giant as he bounces from his knees up to his feet, giving his chest a quick thump with his fist before dropping back down into a cover on his prone opponent (or, as we in the business call it, “op-prone-ent”)

 

 

“If he ever says anything that stupid again, I’m going to kill him,” snarls King.

 

 

“Fourth wall!” hisses Pete, shocked that the Heartbreaker would violate such a rule after Calvinball II.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRR-NOT BLOODY LIKELY! Johnson gets his shoulder off of the mat just in time to save having to finish TORU off after being defeated himself. Takahara, on the other hand, simply stands up and, with a jog and a quick leap into the air, drives both feet down into the solar plexus of Johnson with a double stomp! All of the air whooshes out of the Canadian’s lungs at about the same time his eyes leave his head, and the Ultimate Fighter is left grabbing at his stomach as TORU steps out onto the apron and begins to scale the ropes.

 

 

“TORU with what must be, at his size, a VERY effective double stomp, and now he’s likely going for one of his signature ‘AIR TORU’ maneuvers,” notes Pete.

 

 

“Yeah, well, SLOWRU likely won’t get very far. Johnson’s fast, and he’ll have scouted every AIR TORU maneuver before this match,” quips King, only not really a quip, more of a retort.

 

 

“Nice quip, Brian,” says the Longdogger, complementing the Gambling Man.

 

 

“I’m not Tookie Williams, Pete,” retorts King.

 

 

“That’s Crip, King,” sighs the Miami Menace just as TORU reaches the top, and, with a quick shout of “I AM TORU!,” casts himself into the air, pumping his arms and legs for his AIR TORU frogsplash!

 

 

That Johnson rolls away from!

 

 

 

But TORU rolls through, tucking his bulky body into a ball and landing hard, but continuing his momentum onto his feet where he turns, leaps, and smashes his foot into the Canadian’s face a second time with a gamengiri!

 

 

 

 

 

The Ultimate Fighter collapses back into the ropes, but the tension sends him stumbling forward, where TORU takes his next plan of action, shoving the Canadian’s head between his legs into a standing headscissors once more.

 

 

Underhooks one arm.

 

 

 

 

Underhooks the other.

 

 

 

Lifts…

 

 

 

 

…but before he can lift, Johnson spins out of the underhook and immediately takes action, trying to bring TORU down with another Fujiwara takedown! Takahara is caught off-guard, but he knows better than to be trapped in another armbar, and simply elbows the Canadian in the stomach before reaching around him and bringing him up…and down, with a pendulum backbreaker! Johnson doesn’t even have time to react before the Japanese Hammer is back on his feet, where he takes Johnson’s legs with one arm and flips the Canadian back over…

 

 

 

“OOF!”

 

 

 

…into a punishing gutbuster! Johnson holds his ribs as he slumps off of the knee of Takahara, and TORU simply scoots him closer before laying across him, hooking the nar leg as he does so!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE + ONE FOOT ON THE ROPES = PIN NULL AND VOID. TORU may have hooked a leg, but he hooked the near leg, and thus the bruised Canadian was able to simply extend a leg and drape it over the bottom rope, saving himself once more from a second dangerous situation. Takahara is extremely angry now, leaning over the op-prone-ent and delivering a hard slap to the cheek! The crowd oohs in response, and TORU brings his arm up once more before crushing the Canadian’s skull into the mat with a palm strike!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

That Johnson dodges before reaching his arms up and applying the arm triangle choke known as the Olympic Hell! In an instant, the Canadian’s legs are latched around the waist of the Japanese Hammer, and Takahara is in a rather dire situation.

 

 

“Olympic Hell! Arm triangle choke! Match over! Sentence fragments!” cries King, but Takahara will be damned if he’s losing two falls to none, so the massive nihonjin buckles down and, with a groan, stands straight up, bringing Johnson with him. Immediately, the Canadian’s survival instinct kicks back in, and he releases the body scissors and drops to his feet, where he leverages TORU over with his rolling Olympic Hell!

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

Headbutts are a bitch, though, and TORU proves this by pounding his skull into that of Johnson! He releases his grip understandably quickly, and it is the work of a moment for Takahara to dive around Johnson and pull him over into a School Boy, propping his feet up on the ropes as he does so!

 

 

“HEY! FOUL! TRICKERY!” Pete and King cry simultaneously as Kalem, oblivious to the sneakiness that is going on a mere 2 feet above his line of vision, slides in to make the pin!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! Johnson kicks out just in time! TORU quickly takes his feet off of the ropes, Kalem looking suspiciously at the quivering strands, then removes his arm from between Johnson’s legs to prevent more arm submissions and places it right on the Canadian’s throat with a blatant choke!

 

 

“HEY!” shout Kalem, the Miami Menace, and the Gambling Man as Johnson immediately begins scrabbling for the hand currently preventing air from reaching his windpipe. “BREAK THE CHOKE, TORU!”

 

 

Being the heel that he is, TORU ignores him, and so the former Cutthroat is forced to begin counting.

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“FI-”

 

 

And then, as Kalem reaches his disqualification point, TORU, Card, and Natasha all shout “TWO!”

 

 

“THREE!” begins Cutthroat, not even noticing that he’s been hoodwinked.

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“FI-”

 

 

NOW Takahara breaks, Johnson immediately grabbing at his formerly closed esophagus and gasping for precious oxygen as it rushes back into his lungs. The Japanese Hammer would let him catch his breath, but that would require courtesy. So instead, TORU rolls JJ onto his stomach and, planting a knee in his back, reaches around and tugs back with a modified camel clutch!

 

 

“Well, TORU is back in control, although not without a few nefarious tactics,” comments Pete.

 

 

“Nefarious tactics? What the hell, are we Comet and Riley now?” asks King. “Say, that guy’s cute...”

 

 

As Pete once again checks to make sure if King is serious, this time with fear in his eyes rather than a blank face, TORU torques back on the hold, causing Johnson to cry out slightly as the tingling sensation in his spine starts to climb into a burning sensation. The ropes would be so easy to grab, too, if not for the impediment known to some as TORU Takahara. The Canadian knows that he has to find another way out if he wants to put the Japanese Hammer away in two straight falls, and so it is with great vigor that he begins digging at the two hands clasped under his chin. Takahara responds by tugging harder on the hold, but Johnson is shutting pain out now, desperate to break the painful submission before he’s forced to tap. Being forced to think fast as the pain now becomes excruciating, the Ultimate Fighter thinks through his knowledge of pressure points and, with no further ado, reaches up with his thumb and forefinger and clamps down on the space between the massive Takahara’s thumb and forefinger. Hard. The Japanese Hammer’s eyes go wide as pain shoots up his arm, and he loosens his grip just enough for Johnson to reach up and pry the chinlock loose! With TORU still distracted, Johnson manages to spin out from under the knee pinning him to the mat and goes for a Fujiwara armbar!

 

“BOOOOOOO!”!

 

Fortunately for TORU and the fans, however, the ropes are a mere foot away from Takahara’s current position, and it is no effort at all for the Japanese Hammer to reach out and grab the middle rope, forcing Kalem to break the hold. He’s not met with resistance this time, however, as shockingly, Johnson releases the submission hold immediately. TORU starts to get up, but the Canadian is already sprinting to the ropes as he makes it to his feet. Johnson comes sprinting back with a determined look in his eyes...

 

 

 

*SMAAAAAAA-AAAAACCKKK!!!!!*

 

 

“OOOOHHHHH!!!”

 

 

 

...BUT TAKAHARA DOES A LITTLE SPRINTING OF HIS OWN, CHARGING FORWARD AND SENDING JOHNSON SPIRALING THROUGH THE AIR WITH A VICIOUS LARIAT!!! Johnson crashes into the ground in a lifeless heap as TORU drops to his knees, obviously exhausted by the amount of effort he put into a move that damn near decapitated his opponent!

 

 

“LARIATOOOOOOOO~!” screams King despite himself, surprised that TORU put as much effort into it as he did.

 

“BIIIIIIIG LARIAT FROM TAKAHARA!” shouts Pete. “That’s funny, though. TORU usually doesn’t throw that hard a lariat.”

 

“It’s the will to win, Pete!” laughs King. Then, realizing that who he wants to win just got his head sent into the gigantic green dome atop the mosque. “But TORU sucks anyway! GO JJ!”

 

 

TORU drops down for the cover crawls over for the cover, and the Medina crowd rises to its feet as Kalem drops in for the count!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

NOOO!!! JOHNSON JUST GETS HIS SHOULDER UP BEFORE THE THREE COUNT! TORU sits back, hands on his hips, shaking his head as Johnson rolls onto his stomach, his eyes still glazed over from the skull-shattering blow. The Japanese Hammer takes the time he has to listen to the advice that the slowly-becoming-hoarse card is screaming at him, knowing fully well that Johnson isn’t going anywhere for a few moments.

 

 

”Kujiku sono koumaru!” shouts Technical Perfection, and a wicked smile comes over Takahara’s face as Natasha’s head snaps to attention, and she too begins to smile a devious smile. With no further ado, TORU leaps to his feet and lumbers over to where Johnson lies, effortlessly scooping him up and hanging him upside-down from the turnbuckles in a Tree of Woe!

 

 

“Tree of Woe from TORU, let’s see how he capitalizes here,” says Pete, his face stony with concentration as Takahara thumps his chest with his fist, glaring out over the crowd as Johnson slowly begins to come to.

 

“He’ll capitalize by FALLING DOWN, because he’s FAT AND SLOW,” mutters King, knowing full well that TORU isn’t fat.

 

“Zing!” says Pete.

 

“Fourth wall!” says King in a whiny voice meant to mock that of the Longdogger’s as the Japanese Hammer begins scaling the ropes, reaching his foot out for the top before Chris Card beckons for him to pay attention, TORU immediately plants his foot down where it was hovering, and begins chatting with Card about strategy.

 

 

Unfortunately for Johnson, where TORU’s foot was hovering is not-so-coincidentally right over his nether regions.

 

 

“Oh, come on. That’s not even funny,” whines King as Johnson’s slowly coming to becomes quickly coming to, his eyes bugging out of his head as that dreadful aching sensation that we all hate slowly begins building up in his stomach. Kalem just stands there for a moment as TORU continues talking to Card, trying to figure out what’s wrong with the situation. Then it hits him, and he immediately shouts “HEY!”. TORU pays him no mind, and ONCE AGAIN, the referee is required to count towards a disqualification for the offending party.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FI-And TORU steps up onto the top rope, preventing a disqualification AND putting himself in position for one of his favored high-flying moves. He takes a moment, shouts “I AM TORU!”, bends at the knees preparing for his leap...

 

 

 

 

...AND IN A BURST OR ENERGY, JOHNSON SITS UP AND GRABS HIM AROUND THE WAIST BEFORE TUGGING HIM OFF OF THE TOP ROPE AND MURDERING HIM WITH A SPIDER DANGEROUS GERMAN!!!

 

 

*CA-RUNCH!*

 

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

 

“SPIDERDANGEROUSGERMAAAAANNNN!!!!!” screams King, at the top of his lungs, as Takahara’s toes bounce off of the mat, the Japanese Hammer having been bent over double by the force of the throw. TORU is in a very uncomfortable position right now, and he doesn’t look to be doing much moving as Johnson releases the waistlock, hanging upside down and trying to take as best a breather as he can when there’s blood rushing its way to his head.

 

 

“Now is a turning point in the match, King! TORU will undoubtedly stay down for three if Johnson can capitalize, but that’s a very big if. A very, very big if,” notes Pete as Johnson attempts to rub out that dull feeling (not like that. You’re disgusting.). Realizing, as does the rest of the audience, that he needs to capitalize, the Canadian reaches out and latches once more onto the waist of Takahara before planting his feet on the top rope and flipping himself out of the Tree of Woe into a prawn hold! Card bites his nails, his eyes wide with fear as Kalem slides in to make the count!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

?TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Fuck you, Cutthroat.”

 

“BRIAN!”

 

 

 

King’s foul language may be uncalled for, but that doesn’t change the action that made him swear as such. TORU’s shoulder is off of the mat, having lunged to the side and escaped being swept by the Cruiserweight Champion. Johnson is laying on his back a few feet away, just as shocked as he was the last time TORU escaped the Dangerous German. Takahara’s eyes are glazed over. Johnson’s eyes may very well be brimming with tears, either from the futility of his situation or from the vicious testicular trauma he just underwent. Deciding he needs a breather, Johnson slides out of the ring, clutching at his wee ones and breathing heavily. Chris Card takes his mind off of the client for just a moment, and glances over at the battered Ultimate Fighter that’s currently making his way around towards him. Technical Perfection grins. He smells blood.

 

 

“What...what’s Card doing?” ponders Pete as the Englishman turns himself sideways towards Johnson, his leg already twitching as he prepares to turn the tides. TORU knows what Card is doing, and immediately pretends to have intense neck pain. Well, more intense than he already has from the Dangerous German. Kalem is worried, and he immediately puts all attention on the Japanese Hammer’s well being.

 

“Making a mistake,” smirks King, but Perfection doesn’t make mistakes, and Card knows it as he launches his signature Calling Card right at the ribs of the Ultimate Fighter!

 

 

*THWAP!*

 

 

Johnson instinctively throws his hands up in front of the path of the kick, snatching the Italian-shoed foot out of the sky before it can connect with its devastating force! To say that Card is not happy about this recent development is to say that the Texans’ playoff hopes aren’t looking too good. Johnson isn’t happy either, and he demonstrates this for Card by dropping Technical Perfection’s foot, whirling in an instant...

 

 

*CCAA-RAAACKK!*

 

 

...and plowing his lower forearm through the former smirk of Chris Card! The blow catches Technical Perfection full in the mouth, and he goes stumbling backwards into the ring steps, where he slumps

Edited December 19, 2005 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

And it is only via grand misfortune on the part of the Goth Bitch that Johnson chooses that moment to turn and see if anyone is behind him. Realizing that she’s made perhaps even a bigger mistake than Card has, Natasha tries to bring her leg back down, but Johnson lashes out with a hand and clamps down on her calf, forcing her to hop up and down on one foot as she begins to damn her short skirt. The men of Medina hoot and holler, and Natasha continues to hop in place as Johnson draws his arm back for another elbow. He soon becomes distracted, though. 264 pounds of muscle ramming into you at a high speed will do that.

 

 

“YYEEAAAAAHHH!!!”

 

 

“SUICIDE DIVE!” shouts Pete as Johnson goes tumbling down to the hard steel ramp that looks quite out of place next to the shining marble floors of the Masjid Al-Nabawi. TORU lands on Johnson, only adding to the Ultimate Fighter’s discomfort, and rolls away, taking a moment to catch his breath after the strenuous effort it takes to perform such a precise dive. Natasha catches her breath too, although hers is that of relief as opposed to effort. TORU shoves himself up on his hands and knees, then gets to his feet as Johnson tries rolling over. He doesn’t get far enough, though, as Takahara leaps into the air and crushes him with another double stomp! The Canadian grabs at his back, but TORU is far too busy to be derailed, grabbing the Ultimate Fighter by the hair and tugging him to his feet, kneeing him in the stomach, and whipping him back into the ring. The Japanese Hammer still doesn’t rest, though, as he steps up onto the apron and, with a quick pull, comes crashing down on the unfortunate Canadian with a slingshot knee drop! But TORU STILL doesn’t capitalize, dragging Johnson to his feet and whipping him to the ropes once more! It is on the way back that Johnson comes to his senses, and leaps into the air for a Dynamic Kick...

 

 

...but TORU has it scouted after last time, and ducks as low as he can go. Johnson goes sailing overhead, and TORU whirls around to face him...

 

 

...just as the Canadian lands and whips his foot back into the stomach of the Japanese Hammer!

 

 

“OOOF!”

 

 

Takahara is doubled over immediately by the forceful blow, and Johnson wastes no time in blasting him in the back of the head with an elbow smash!

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

TORU drops to one knee, but Johnson is relentless now, securing a front facelock and underhooking one arm before digging deep, stomping a foot, and bridging back with a half-hatch suplex!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

“HALF-HATCH SUPLEX! SINGLE-UNDERHOOK SUPLEX! THERE’S THE BRIDGE!” bellows King as Kalem, once again, drops down to count TORU’s shoulders as they rest on the mat, pinned only by the arched spine of the Cruiserweight Champion!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!????

THREE-NO! JOHNSON’S NECK GIVES OUT, CAUSING HIM TO BREAK THE BRIDGE AND ALLOW TORU TO KICK OUT! The Canadian rolls onto his stomach and starts forcing his way to his feet, ready as ever to keep taking the fight to the tag team champion. TORU is also making his way up...

 

 

 

...and then he gets an idea.

 

 

He gets an awful idea.

 

 

TORU gets a terrible, awful idea.

 

 

Thinking fast, TORU sticks his hand between the middle and top ropes and, with his other arm, intertwines the two strands, trapping his arm inside the ropes!

 

 

“Well, that’s a great idea,” deadpans the Heartbreaker. “With thinking like that, I’m surprised he’s not World Champion already.”

 

 

“It certainly is a peculiar strategy,” admits the Longdogger. Johnson doesn’t care how peculiar it is, though, as he charges the Japanese Hammer, fully ready to give him the Dynamic Kick of a lifetime...

 

 

 

...but is forced to come to a screeching halt as Kalem gets in his path, waving his arms!

 

 

“No, Johnson! He’s tied up in the ropes, you can’t attack him!” shouts the former Cutthroat, which causes the Canadian to look at him as if he farted in church. Then, realizing that Kalem is dead serious, a vein pops up in Johnson’s skull. For a moment, Blaine looks like he might shit himself with fear - he wouldn’t want to befall the same fate that David Blazenwing did a month ago. As TORU lounges about behind him, smiling as he rests up, the Ultimate Fighter simply walks away, leaving the Japanese Hammer be.

 

 

“Of all the underhanded tricks...” begins the Longdogger, even he being a bit disgusted by the tactics being adopted by Takahara.

 

“I have to agree, Pete,” sighs King. “Even I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

 

“Says the guy who injected himself with Novocaine to win a Last Man Standing match.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Johnson paces as Takahara does all he can to prevent Kalem from untangling the strands, Card and Natasha distracting the dim-witted referee every chance they get. Finally, realizing that leaving things up to Cutthroat isn’t a good idea - yes, it took him this long to figure that out - the Canadian rushes in and delivers a sharp kick right to TORU’s shoulder! Kalem stops what he’s doing to see what happened, and sees the Canadian continuing to assault the trapped limb of Takahara, TKO’s game plan going from keeping TORU tied up to freeing him. Johnson’s helping as well, although not for the better, delivering several sharp kicks to the arm. Finally, TORU frees himself, launches a knee into the stomach of Johnson, and shoves him into a standing headscissors.

 

 

Underhooks one arm.

 

 

Underhooks the other arm.

 

 

Lifts...

 

 

...and Johnson spins out from the underhook once more. TORU turns with him, however, and knees him into the stomach before securing a front facelock and lifting him with a suplex...that he drops into a backbreaker! Takahara takes a moment to rub his battered arm, then steps between the ropes onto the apron and climbs up top, then, with a deep breath, launches himself into the stratosphere where he comes crashing down to Earth - and Johnson’s lower back - with a TORU Hammer!

 

 

“SUPLEX BACKBREAKER, FOLLOWED BY A TORU HAMMER!” booms the Miami Menace. “And this isn’t a standing TORU Hammer, this is the real deal! This could be the end of the second fall!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

 

 

 

FOOT ON THE ROPES! Johnson JUST manages to get his foot on the ropes, breaking the pin! TORU sits back and snorts, as if he were not a man but a raging bull, Card and Natasha trying to keep him from losing his temper. If his temper is lost, he doesn’t show it, as he climbs out onto the apron once more and plants a foot on the second rope before looking out over the crowd and spinning his hands in a counter-clockwise motion.

 

 

“YEEEEEAAAAAHH!!”

 

 

“TORU could be looking for the Shooting Star Press here,” notes Pete. “If ANYTHING is going to end this epic fall, it’s that!”

 

 

“Which is why he’ll miss!” shouts King, with the same eyes that everyone else who’s lying has.

 

Takahara makes his way to the top slowly but steadily, making sure not to, in his haste, mess up his arm any further. Upon reaching the top, he draws himself up to his full impressive height. One thump of the chest, one raise of the hand, and one shout of “I AM TORU!” later, he bends at the knees, preparing for the impressive aerial maneuver that is the SSP...

 

 

...and Johnson shoves Cutthroat into the ropes, crotching Takahara on the top!

 

 

“BOOOOO!”

 

 

“YES!” shouts King. “Johnson survives!”

 

 

“And without cheating, to boot,” deadpans Pete.

 

 

“Hey, it’s called trying to get the referee’s attention,” lies King as Johnson slowly but surely makes his way to his feet. TORU, meanwhile, lets his mouth open and close like some sort of fish novelty toy, his eyes wide as can be as Card and Natasha look on, more than a little concerned. The Canadian, on the other hand, immediately begins scaling the ropes...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

...rocking the already sufficiently rocked TORU as he continues to climb. Upon reaching the top, he looks out over the audience, taking a deep breath as he plans his next move. Meanwhile, down 10 feet below on the floor, Card reaches out and grabs Kalem’s ankle. The ref immediately wheels on the spot, his eyes wide, and Technical Perfection raises his hands as if to surrender, saying “Okay, you caught me”. Kalem takes a few more moments to chew Card and Natasha out, and they simply stand there and take it. Curious as to what exactly is going on down on the floor, Johnson turns his head and looks.

 

 

 

And TORU strikes.

 

 

 

*CHING!*

 

 

“OOOOHH!!”

 

 

Johnson’s face immediately turns beet red as his testicles are traumatized for the second time in the match, and he bends over double, clutching at his groin just as Kalem turns around. He’s suspicious, but he can’t call what he can’t see, and TORU is perfectly aware of that. Taking a moment to catch his breath, TORU wastes no time standing straight up, where he looks down at Card, who nods.

 

 

 

And TORU places Johnson in a standing headscissors.

 

 

“Oh God. Oh, God no,” whispers Pete, his face turning stark white. King simply stares, not quite sure he’s seeing what he’s seeing.

 

 

Takahara underhooks one arm.

 

 

“He can’t...I mean, that might severely injure Johnson...” Pete almost moans, letting his sentence trail off as the rest of the arena grows equally silent. King simply stares.

 

 

Takahara underhooks the other arm.

 

 

“How, in good conscience, is the referee allowing this to happen?” asks the Miami Menace. “I mean, it’s not against the rules...but I don’t see why not.” King simply stares.

 

 

TORU lifts...and leaps, releasing the underhooked arms to grab a firm hold of the unsuspecting Johnson’s legs as gravity does its job, sending both men sailing the six feet to the mat at a speed unhealthy for any man.

 

TORU braces himself for the landing, knowing fully well that it will be hell on his tailbone, and simply hangs on to Johnson with every ounce of strength in him.

 

 

Johnson looks up at the night sky, watching as the stars grow further and further away.

 

And as both men plummet to Earth, one thought goes through Johnson, Takahara, Pete, King, and everyone else’s heads.

 

 

*BA-FUCKING-BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!

 

 

 

Tiger Driver.

 

 

”YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“...he did it,” says Pete, a grim expression on his face as Johnson twitches spastically, then goes still. TORU, on the other hand, grabs at his lower back, obviously in intense pain. Kalem looks shellshocked, his eyes wide as he purveys the destruction. Finally, shutting the pain out, TORU sits up and plants one hand on the stock-still legs of Johnson. Kalem drops down, despite his not needing to, and makes the count.

 

 

One.

 

 

 

Two.

 

 

 

Three.

 

 

DING!

 

 

“The winner of the second fall, by pin fall...TO-RU! TAAAKAAAHAAAARAAAAA!!!” bellows Funyon as TORU slumps back down to the mat, ever-thankful for the fifteen second rest period. Johnson just lays there.

 

 

“That’s...that’s the damndest thing I’ve seen in quite a while,” stutters Pete. “Maybe ever. Avalanche Tiger Driver.”

 

 

“I...” begins King, but he’s not able to finish. Kalem paces, watching as both men’s chests rise up and down higher than ever before. TORU tries sitting up, but excruciating pain shoots up his spine and he falls back to the mat. Johnson twitches a little, which is more than he’s done in a while.

 

The battle-scarred David Blazenwing signals to Kalem that the rest period is up. Kalem pauses. Does he really want to let these two kill each other any more? But he realizes he has no choice, and so he nods to Blazenwing to ring the bell, and begin the final fall.

 

 

DING!

 

 

TORU immediately shoves the pain aside again. This could be the win, here. He plants his hand on Johnson’s leg once more, the same Johnson that hasn’t moved for about 25 seconds. Kalem drops down for another count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NOOOOO! JOHNSON JUST BAAREELLYYY gets his shoulder off of the mat, much to the shock of everyone in the mosque! TORU rolls out from under Johnson’s legs with a look of shock on his face, wincing as his tailbone reminds him that he’s not very comfortable right now. But he ignores it - the pain is subsiding anyway - and drags the Canadian to his feet, taking a moment to make sure he stays up before striding to the ropes and climbing up top. He doesn’t bother to taunt this time - Johnson might not stay up that long - and so simply launches himself off of the top rope with a missile dropkick!

 

 

 

That Johnson moves to the side and catches, taking a firm hold of TORU’s legs and corralling Takahara to the mat! TORU is understandably shocked, and so it is the work of a moment and with little resistance from the big man that Johnson stands up and, intertwining his own leg with those of the Japanese Hammer, turns Takahara over into the sasori-gatame, known to some as the...

 

 

“SHARPSHOOTER!” cries the Gambling Man, his mood finally brightening as TORU is snapped into animation by the pain coursing its way down his legs and into his spine. “THANK GOD! I thought this was over for sure...well, it still is, but in a good way now!”

 

 

Pete rolls his eyes as TORU writhes, reaching out for ropes that are just a little too far away. He lunges, but falls short. Card shouts instructions at him, and TORU looks at him again. That didn’t work last time, why the hell would it work now? But Technical Perfection is insistent, and so the Japanese Hammer takes a deep breath before shoving himself up on his hands and rolling through the hold! The momentum sends Johnson tumbling onto his back, the back of his head bouncing off of the canvas in a manner most foul. Takahara cackles at his (read: Card’s) ingenuity...and then Johnson clamps down on the hiza-juji-gatame that the Japanese Hammer rolled himself into!

 

“GOD DAMMIT!” booms Card as he smacks the canvas before walking away from the ring, arms akimbo, staring up at the ceiling. TORU, meanwhile, does some booming of his own, letting out a cry of pain similar to that of somebody having their leg chainsawed off. Which isn’t too far from the feelings most associate with the cross kneebreaker. However, there’s more fight left in Takahara than a mere chainsaw through the leg can quell, and the Japanese Hammer performs a quick roll into the ropes! Kalem steps in to force a break, and both TORU and Johnson perform backwards rolls at the same time, and both lunge forward to attack the other! The Canadian’s foot gets to the Saitaman’s jaw before the heavyweight’s knee can get to the cruiserweight’s stomach, and Takahara is sent staggering back as Johnson sprints to the ropes, coming back and - unable to gather up the strength to leap for a Dynamic Kick - throws his leg up for a Yakuza Kick!

 

 

That TORU ducks! Johnson spins on the spot...

 

 

“OOF!”

 

 

...right into another stiff knee to the stomach! Takahara wastes little time in grabbing the doubled-over Johnson’s arm and tucking it under his leg before securing a half-nelson with his other arm and lifting him...before turning him 90 degrees and dropping him on his head with the TORU Driver!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

Fortunately for TORU, and unfortunately for Johnson, a pinning cradle is inherent to the move, and so all TORU has to do is hang on tightly in order to cover the Canadian for what may be the final fall of the match!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR-But Johnson kicks out the earliest he has since early in the second fall! Takahara isn’t about to let Johnson lolligag about, and he’s up to his feet quickly, tugging the Canadian with him...

 

 

*WHAP!*

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

...only for Johnson to deliver a sharp kick to the stomach then, in a Herculean effort, drop TORU straight on his skull with a sheer-drop brainbuster! The sheer amount of strength that goes into the move is enough to sap the Canadian of plenty of energy, and thus capitalization on the maneuver is impossible. TORU? Well, TORU just got dropped on his fuckin’ head. Realizing that neither man is going to be doing much moving for a while, Kalem steps in and throws his hand up, beginning to count both men out.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

“And Kalem begins the count-out, King,” begins Pete, looking nervously at the two prone forms in the ring, “what happens if both men are counted out? Do we have a triple threat at Clusterfuck?”

 

“Bah, we won’t have to worry about that!” scoffs the Gambling Man, his expression definitely not that of a scoffer, “Johnson is IRON MAN!! GRRR!!”

 

A scared look comes across the face of the Miami Menace.

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

TORU rolls to his stomach - it’s easier to get up that way. Johnson sits up, his brain reminding him that the count is a bad thing. TORU forces his way up to his hands and knees, his muscles bulging with effort. Johnson rolls to his hands and knees as well, then lunges for Takahara!

 

 

But TORU dodges, rolling until he reaches the safety of the mats outside, planting his hands on top of his head to allow more oxygen to enter his lungs. Both Card and Natasha flock to him, the Goth Bitch checking the Japanese Hammer for injuries, Technical Perfection talking strategy. Taking a moment to check what Johnson is up to, Card turns back towards the ring.

 

 

And blanches, before shoving Natasha back and diving out of the way himself. TORU, naturally confused, turns to face the ring just in time to see Johnson DIVING THROUGH THE ROPES ON A COLLISION COURSE WITH HIS SKULL!! TORU ducks, laughing to himself as he waits for the sound of pigdog Canadian on ramp. Little does he realize, pigdog Canadians have to hit the ramp in order to make such a sound. As it is, Johnson performs a quick roll over the top rope, landing on the apron. Turning quickly, Johnson leaps into the air, springing off of the second rope before turning himself around, planting both feet in TORU’s chest with a springboard missile dropkick! Johnson is athletic enough to land on his feet, and he performs a quick spin to face the prone form of Takahara...

 

 

 

...the charging form of Takahara...

 

 

 

 

...the lariating form of Takahara.

 

 

 

*SMAAA-AAAA-AAAACKK!!*

 

 

Johnson’s head goes ricocheting off of the thin padding covering the marble as the Japanese Hammer continues charging, using his momentum to slide into the ring, where he pops to his feet and, surprisingly, sits in the corner. Kalem does his job by starting the outside ten-count.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

“What, exactly, does TORU think he’s doing?” sniffs King, indignantly, “winning via count-out is my job.”

 

 

“The question is, can this match end on a count-out?” ponders the Longdogger as Johnson grasps at the back of his head, wincing. Card and Natasha think to move in, but they remember what happened last time they went after him, and stay back.

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

Johnson forces himself up on his hands and knees, panting as sweat drips off of him, pooling beneath his long black hair as he stares at the floor. He can’t focus on a particular body part - there’s a dull stinging pretty much everywhere - but he knows that he has to get back into the ring relatively soon. And so, with a great amount of effort, he rises to one knee.

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

Then to his feet.

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

Then he is running, sprinting as hard as he can and casting himself into the air, Card’s attempt to tackle him out of the air and keep him outside the ring unsuccessful.

 

TEEEEEEE-

 

 

And Johnson makes it between the ropes, rolling into the ring just before Kalem is forced to disqualify him. TORU immediately pulls himself out of his seated position, perfectly ready to do battle with the Canadian, and Johnson is equally enthusiastic, charging at the Japanese Hammer...

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

 

...and falling flat on his face, a victim of a good old-fashioned TORU-tripping! TORU immediately leaps skyward, coming crashing down with a knee drop, then rolls Johnson over and snatches the leg up for a DEEEEEEP cover as Kalem slides in to make the count!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR-But Johnson kicks out again! Takahara is slowly but surely growing more and more furious. Regardless, TORU knows he can’t let his temper get in the way of his victory, and so he grabs Johnson by the hair and grabs him by the hair, tugging him to his feet and sticking him in a standing headscissors...

 

 

 

 

...but the Japanese Hammer doesn’t close his legs fast enough, and Johnson scrambles through the rapidly closing space before springing to his feet, turning on the spot...

 

?

*CRACK!*

 

 

 

...and lambasting the massive Saitaman with an elbow smash! TORU slumps over momentarily, but a moment is all Johnson needs to tuck the Japanese Hammer’s arm into a pumphandle, secure a T-bone suplex, and with a groan of effort, lifts him up before dumping him on his head with the Exploder ‘98!!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

“HA!” chuckles King, “NOW this is over! Just pin him, Johnson, so we can get out of here!”

 

“We still have two more matches Ki-”

 

“I SAID...so we can get OUT OF HERE,” snarls the Heartbreaker, but Johnson isn’t looking for the pin. He’s looking at the top rope. And so he strides over, and begins climbing, his back to the ring, as a buzz begins building in the mosque.

 

“Wait...he could be...” begins Pete, but shakes his head. “No, he never does this.”

 

 

“Unless straits are dire, Doggah. And straits aren’t too happy right now, that’s for sure,” notes King as Johnson reaches the top, where he looks, slightly nervous, out over the crowd before bending at the knees, bringing his arms back, taking a breath...

 

 

 

 

...and then he is airborne, twisting through the air on a collision course with the Japanese Hammer, who lays perfectly still in the middle of the ring as Johnson comes spiraling down to Earth on the wings of his signature Air Canada.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keep in mind that the middle of the ring is a good five feet away from where he was when Johnson jumped.

 

 

*CA-RAASHH!!*

 

 

Johnson hits the mat hard and skids before the force bounces him up to one knee, where he stays, eyes glazed over, before slumping to the mat.

 

 

“AIR CANADA...NO GOOD!” shouts Pete as TORU sits up, a sly smile on his face. He’s got Johnson exactly where he wants him, and he walks towards the Canadian, obviously looking to make a pin...

 

 

 

 

...but he walks past him, and steps out onto the apron before beginning his climb to the top.

 

 

“Ah, shit,” mutters King as TORU reaches the top strand, looking out over the mosque of the Prophet, at the various fans - and, of course, Natasha and Card - cheering him on.

 

 

 

And then, much like Johnson earlier, TORU is airborne, arching his back as he leaps forward, bringing his feet up over his head. Flashbulbs go off as Takahara’s vision goes from the stars above, to the crowd behind him, to the hapless victim below him. And then...

 

 

*BOOOM!*

 

 

...impact.

 

 

King is dismayed. Pete is elated. The count is academic.

 

 

 

One.

 

 

 

 

Two.

 

 

 

 

Three.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“NO. MOTHER. FUCKING. WAY,” gasps the Miami Menace, using language rather uncharacteristic of his usual banter as he stares a hole through the shocking vision in the ring.

 

“I would like to second that motion,” smirks King, also staring at the mind-blowing impossibility - that is obviously not an impossibility - as TORU’s eyes grow wide with an unbridled fury.

 

 

The crowd is simply shellshocked, murmurs travelling throughout the mosque as they, too, look at the ring.

 

 

And at the center of all of this attention is JJ Johnson’s shoulder. Normally, such a limb would not be very attention grabbing. But this limb is very special.

 

 

It’s up. And according to Kalem, it was up before three. A vein bulges out of Takahara’s forehead as he quivers with rage, not even able to think as hatred courses through him. Finally, TORU stomps his way to his feet and, in one clean motion, reaches down and underhooks Johnson’s arms before ripping him off of the mat and tucking him into a standing headscissors! The crowd noise begins to build again, and with the Tiger Driver already in place, all TORU has to do is lift...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

...and catch both of Johnson’s heels bouncing off of his forehead! TORU drops the Canadian, who lands on his feet with cat-like agility and charges forward, slamming his elbow into Takahara’s temple...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

...one...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

...two...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

...three times, TORU’s anger allowing him to shrug off the blows and lash back out at Johnson with a punch! The Ultimate Fighter ducks under it, though, and launches a vicious spin kick...

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

...that catches Takahara full in the jaw! Once again, the Japanese Hammer shrugs off the blow...

 

 

*CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!*

 

 

...and is rewarded with four more wicked elbows to the cheekbone, a sickening snapping sound coursing throughout the mosque as TORU FINALLY shows a sign of weakness, clasping his hands over his battered face. This does not slow Johnson for one second, though...

 

 

*CRACK!* *CRACK!*

 

 

...as he lets loose with two roundhouse kicks, once again battering the Japanese Hammer’s temple! It is now that Takahara realizes that he really has no chance of fighting back, and that to survive, he’s going to have to escape. So TORU simply turns his back on the Canadian and walks away, still clutching at his face...but Johnson sprints past him and bounces off of the ropes before coming back with a roaring elbow!

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

The limb slams hard into the hand covering the wounded cheekbone, and Takahara grunts with both pain and annoyance. More pain, though, as Johnson refuses to let up, spinning and launching a rolling elbow!

 

 

*CA-RACK!*

 

 

Following through on his spin, Johnson rotates again, aiming his strike a little higher...

 

 

*CA-RAAACK!*

 

 

...crushing the orbital socket of the Japanese Hammer with YET ANOTHER elbow smash! TORU looks woozy, but Johnson wouldn’t know it, as he’s already facing far away, spinning for another elbow that nearly puts itself through the skull of the tag team champion!

 

 

*CA-FUCKING-RAAAAACK!*

 

?Johnson goes for another, but something very strange stops him. TORU blinks once, and his head goes slightly limp. The defiant look in his eyes disappears, and his shoulders drop, his fists unclenching themselves. The wave of looseness courses its way down TORU’s spine, the formerly-straight column slacking itself. The Japanese Hammer’s knees buckle, and a look of peacefulness comes over the Saitaman’s face. And with a smirk, he collapses.

 

 

The Canadian stares down at the Japanese Hammer for only a moment, then realizes the opportunity he has and drops down, hooking the leg of the prone Takahara. Kalem’s eyes are wide after such a grim spectacle, but he snaps out of his amazement in time to drop down and make the cover.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “the winner of the match and NEEEWWWWW Number One Contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Championship… JAY! JAY! JOOOHHHHNNNNSSSOOOOOONNNNNN!!”

 

Chris Card and Natasha can’t believe it, but as begrudging applause starts to sound around Mohammed’s tomb they finally seem to accept it. Meanwhile Johnson starts to push himself up to his feet, breathing heavily and staring around in what seems to be vague disbelief.

 

It took everything he had, and nearly every breath in his body, but he finally did it. He put TORU down for the count.

 

“See! See!?” King shouts in Longdogger Pete’s ear, barely able to contain his excitement, “what did I tell you! JJ Johnson is the man! He is YOUR new Number One Contender, and now we’re going to get a dream match at Clusterfuck, we’re going to get JJ Johnson vs. El Luchador Magnifico!”

 

“That’s assuming Magnifico retains against Todd Cortez!” Pete snaps back, but his heart doesn’t really seem to be in it. Meanwhile JJ Johnson has his hand raised by the referee, and the Canadian stares out belligerently at the thousands of fans, seemingly daring them to start booing again.

 

“This match was probably the closest these two men have come to hell on earth,” Pete says, “they hit each other with everything they had, and they got up again. They were both motivated by the driving force, the hunger, the desire to even have the chance to become World Champion; JJ Johnson has travelled with two men who have achieved that goal already, Toxxic and Landon Maddix, and now he wants his turn. You might not like him,” LDP continues, “but King, I will admit that you have to respect the man. At the end of the day he had that extra bit in the tank to finally stop TORU in his tracks.”

 

Chris Card and Natasha have waited for Johnson to exit the ring and have now slid in under the bottom rope to check on TORU, who has started to sit up with a glazed expression. As Card begins to speak in low Japanese, presumably explaining to the Japanese Hammer that he’s lost the match, the camera cuts to JJ Johnson as he heads up the ramp. The former UFC fighter has merely looked tired, determined and aggressive so far, but now a slow sharklike smile begins to spread over his face. Perhaps up until now Johnson had merely viewed this match as another contest, another battle of skill and wills, and had focused more on destroying TORU Takahara than on the ultimate prize. Now however he has the leisure to reflect on what he has won, and it pleases him greatly.

 

At Clusterfuck, the man known to the world as JJ Johnson will step into the ring in the main event of a SWF Pay-Per-View for the first time, and he will try to take the World Title from whoever holds it. And whether that person is Todd Cortez, El Luchador Magnifico, or anyone else, it really doesn’t matter; anyone who faces JJ Johnson knows that they will be in for the fight of their lives.

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[the.weej 0]

“I’m here with Melissa Fasaki and the Wildchild,” says Ben Hardy, “just moments away from the biggest match of his career! And Wildchild, what a difference a year makes: a year ago, at Slay Ride, you and Johnny Dangerous made your triumphant return to the SWF, as you went on to win the SWF World Tag Team Titles for an unprecedented third and fourth times… One year later, and you’re going to be going against the man that you used to call your best friend, in a match that puts both your careers on the line!”

 

“You know, What an odd turn of events,” Wildchild replies “You’re right, Ben, it was a year ago dat Johnny convinced me t’ return to de SWF after a long absence...and after the tragedy in my life dat left me wit no family…and no friends ‘cept for one…or so I t’ought.” Wildchild pauses momentarily. Hesitant to delve into his darkest times, but then he continues. “Most of dese fans might not remember…or even know, but about one year ago I lost my entire family in a hurricane. It destroyed everyt’ing my family ever had…*everything*…and it took…DERE…LIVES!”

 

Silence falls over the audience as their hero pours his past out to them. Wildchild, himself, trembles slightly as he recounts in his mind the tragedy of last years’ deadly hurricane.

 

“I was on de brink of self destruction back den – *I* was ready t’ take my life as well because I couldn’t stand t’ be de sole survivor in my family! It didn’ seem fair dat I was still here while dey were all taken away from me,” says Wildchild, his emotions starting to get the better of him. He takes time to compose himself before staring into the camera as he continues. “Den my life was spared… because of you, Johnny Dangerous. You came and cut de rope from my neck,” he says, pointing to the rope braid tattoo that covers the permanent, though minor scar on his neck. “I’m reminded of it every day when I look in de mirror.”

 

“Johnny came and saved my life,” he says, turning back to Ben, “an’ more importantly, helped me find a new reason t’ live. Wit’ his urging, I decided t’ dedicate my career t’ de memory of my family. I *even* placed de family crest on my body permanently, so dat I would always remember them… and I always will. Every time I look at myself… Every time dat I’m ‘bout ready t’come out for a match, I touch de crest, an’ say a prayer. Dedicatin’ what I’m about t’do in de match t’ dere memory. Sometimes I start to t’ink dat I can’t go on anymore…and den I’m reminded of dem and de reason I chose t’go on. But I wouldn’t have been able t’ do any of dat wit’out you, Johnny Dangerous.

 

“You, Johnny – de man dat was supposed t’be my teammate in dis business and above all…MY FRIEND! I guess you jus’ forgot about all dat, though? I guess you jus’ forgot that my family loved you as well! When you and I were having problems after Genesis 4, my sister invited you over to try and get de two of us t’ work out our problems cause DEY actually gave a damn about you and what our partnership in de ring meant! So tell me dat everyt’ing you been doing lately – running around half cocked, t’inking dat your so much better den anyone else in de SWF, and acting like a spoiled, obsessed lunatic isn’t to *piss* on my family’s memory and what dey have done!”

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

The fury in Wildchild’s eyes is as clear as day as he continues on. “You should be glad dat my family showed you love, Johnny; dey took you in as one of dere own… an’ I know dat dey would be disappointed, looking down on us and seein’ de way t’ings have turned out between us,” says Wildchild. “dey wouldn’t be pleased with you…and dey wouldn’t be pleased wit’ me if I didn’t help you.”

 

“Help him?” repeats Ben, rather bewildered by the statement. “What do you mean by that, Wildchild?”

 

“Johnny saved me once,” replies Wildchild. “He saved my life, an’ I owe him a life debt for it. I dink dat is about damn time dat I repay him; Johnny, it’s time dat I saved you…from yer’self!

 

“If I lose dis match tonight… den maybe I go back to Morgan’s Bluff—back to my home— an’ try t’start my life over. Sure, I’d miss everyone, but I’d know dat I had a good run here in de SWF; one dat I can be proud of… An’ I’ll hope dat I traded it for a greater cause and maybe, jus’ maybe, you’ll realize in victory dat I’m only trying t’help you, and you’ll come to your senses!

 

“But, if I win? Den I will have removed you from de t’ing dat has turned you into a shell of de man you used to be. I will have gotten you out of a place dat you should have never been at in de firs’ place… An’ I know dat you’ll be mad, but… maybe someday… you’ll realize dat it was de best t’ing t’ever happen t’you, because you need more den what de fed alone can give you t’be right again… de SWF is not enough, Johnny; you’ve become an empty, pathetic shell of a man, an’ you need to find yourself t’get back on de right track…”

 

“That was a pretty strong statement, Wildchild,” says Ben. “Are you really comfortable saying something like that to Johnny Dangerous?”

 

“Listen, monsieur Hardy,” replies WC, “Johnny needed t’hear what I had t’say… Somet’in’ like dat needs t’come from family, an’ I’m de closest t’ing t’family dat he has around here! Johnny, you started dis little breakdown… dis whole Wild versus Dangerous showdown was your doing. An now, I’m about t’bring dis t’ing full circle… I only hope dat you can live wit’ yourself, an’ accept responsibility for what I’m about t’do t’you!”

 

With that, Wildchild and Melissa exit stage right. “You heard it right here, folks!” exclaims Ben. “Some very emotional comments by the Wildchild. King, Pete, back to you!”

 

FADE OUT

[the.weej 0]

FADE IN

 

“A tremendous night of action here in Saudi Arabia,” says Longdogger Pete, “and now, it’s time for one of the most anticipated matches of the night! King, for almost three years, Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous stood side-by-side as the most electrifying, and one of the most successful tag teams in SWF history; they won the World Tag Team Championship an unprecedented four times! I remember back when these two young men were first called up from the JL, King; I recognized their potential as a tag team immediately, and I was happy to see how much they achieved together… So, it’s with no small amount of regret that I’m going to have to sit here and call this match, as the two former partners, former brothers-in-arms, will be facing each other in one of the most punishing matches in all of professional wrestling! And the loser will not only have to say surrender, but he will also forfeit his career!”

 

“Well, the ‘Loser Leaves’ match is one of the most unpredictable types of matches in all of professional wrestling,” says the Suicide King, “for the simple fact that it’s impossible to predict what a wrestler will be willing to do when their career is on the line! I’ve seen men perform acts that were completely out of character for them when they were wrestling for their livelihood!”

 

“That’s an excellent point, King,” agrees Pete, “and this match has the added variable of being an ‘I Quit’ match! The winner has to make his opponent say the words ‘I Quit,” and that could add a totally different dimension to this matchup, especially with two wrestlers that aren’t exactly know for being submission specialists!”

 

“Well, on the flipside of that, there are no holds barred in this match, and no disqualifications,” replies King. “And this isn’t a purely submission match; you don’t have to actually put your opponent in a legal submission hold to win.”

 

“You’re right again, King,” concedes Pete, “and I forgot about that. Well, all things being equal, I think that Johnny Dangerous might have the edge in this match, when it comes being able to make his opponent give up; not only is he probably more versed in submission holds, but I’m sure that, as a Secret Agent, he is probably well-versed in techniques that can make a target submit. But King, I wouldn’t count out the Wildchild, not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s incredibly resilient, and like we just heard a few moments ago, he wants to teach his partner a lesson!”

 

“Nah,” says King dismissively. “You had it right the first time; Johnny’s going to win this match easily! The only thing that Wildchild showed me by his comments a few minutes ago was that he’s going into this match with the wrong motivation. He’s more concerned with trying to teach Johnny some sort of lesson than he is with having a job tomorrow morning. He’s got his priorities messed up, and in a match of this magnitude, that could cost him everything!”

 

“I think you’re selling him short, King!” counters LDP. “I think that Wildchild is well aware of the importance of this match, but he also wants what he thinks is best for Johnny Dangerous, and that’s the most interesting element in this match, in my opinion: in spite of everything that Johnny had done to Wildchild, Wildchild still thinks that his former partner can be rehabilitated. He still thinks that his old friend is somewhere inside of Johnny’s black heart, waiting to be rescued from what the Barracuda has become!”

 

“So, in other words, you think that Wildchild just wants to beat some sense into Johnny Dangerous?” King asks incredulously. “Well, if that’s the case, then he definitely has no chance! The man he thought he knew is gone, and may not have ever been there in the first place… If he thinks that he’s going to ‘exorcise the demons’ from Johnny soul, then he’s going to be in for a rude awakening when he’s standing in the unemployment line next week!”

 

“Well folks, three years of friendship and several months of animosity have brought us to this moment, so let’s not keep you waiting any longer!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

Before Funyon can commence with his ring introductions, however, the camera shifts to the top of the stage. An impromptu Deejay booth has been set up stage left by a quick-working crew during WC’s promo and King and Pete’s dialogue. The deejay drops a record on the turntable, and Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” begins to pump throughout the speakers of the Masjid al-Nabawi:

 

“YOU KEEP BUMPIN’ ME AGAINST THE WALL!

YEAH, I KNOW I LET YOU SLIDE BEFORE!

BUT, UNTIL YOU SEEN ME… TRUST ME…

 

YOU AIN’T SEEN BOUNCIN’ BACK!”

 

“YOU KEEP BUMPIN’ ME AGAINST THE WALL!

YEAH, I KNOW I LET YOU SLIDE BEFORE!

BUT, UNTIL YOU SEEN ME… TRUST ME…

 

YOU AIN’T SEEN BOUNCIN’ BACK!”

 

Suddenly, as the first verse is about to begin, the Prince of the South himself bursts out from behind the curtain!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“I REALLY BE THROWIN' MY WORDS,

STANDING 'EM UP, AND JAMMIN' ON THE ONE!

THAT AIN'T NOBODY BUT NEPTUNES BAMMIN' ON THE DRUM!

SWIFT FLIP KICKS LANDING FROM THE TONGUE,

MORE DRAMATIC THAN BATMAN AND ROBIN, BA NA-NA-NA-NA-NA!

THE ONE THAT BE HANDLING THEY BUSINESS, BE SHARPER THAN A THUMB TACK!

THE ONE THAT BE DROPPING THESE ALBUMS, SHOWING 'EM HOW TO COME BACK!

AND YOU GON' RESPECT ME AND APPRECIATE WHERE I RUN AT,

YOU AIN'T GONE PISS ME OFF, CAUSE YOU’LL BE SORRY THAT YOU DONE THAT!

 

“I GETS MEANER… BADDER… STRONGER AND FEROCIOUS,

YOU DON'T EVEN WANNA SEE THE REST!

 

I'M COMIN' BACK MO' FEARLESS, MO' DETERMINED, TO FOLD THE SET,

I AIN'T EVEN STARTED YET!

 

SO, IF YOU AIN'T READY, YOU BETTER GET READY!

I KNOW I DO IT BETTER WHEN I'M BEIN' OPPOSED!

I STICK MY CHEST OUT, KEEP MY CHIN UP,

'CAUSE SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA GET KNOCKED DOWN… TO GET UP!”

 

 

“That’s Mystikal!” exclaims Pete. “Mystikal is here to perform Wildchild’s entrance live!”

 

“How’d he even clear customs?” asks King.

 

Midway through the second verse, Wildchild steps out onto the stage, dressed in black, Olympic-style trunks, with the colors of the Bahamas running down each leg. Beside him is Melissa Fasaki, wearing an aquamarine blouse and black jeans. WC gives Mystikal a pound before making his way down the ramp.

 

“The following contest is an I Quit match,” booms Funyon, “and the loser must leave the SWF! The only way to win is to make your opponent say the words ‘I Quit’ into a microphone… there are NO OTHER RULES!”

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Introducing first, making his way to the ring at this time,” continues Funyon, “and being accompanied by Melissa Fasaki: from the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” WC somersaults between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring, and then rolls quickly to his feet, running towards the edge of the ring and raising his arms into the air to elicit a cheer from the crowd:

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Wildchild looks ready for this contest!” shouts Pete.

 

“Well, he damned sure should be!” replies King. “This is the single-biggest match of his entire career! But, let me ask you something important, MacDougal.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“Do you think it was a good idea for Wildchild to have spent so much money to bring Mystikal out here to perform live, when he could very well be unemployed by tomorrow?”

 

“Will you stop!”

 

“Bouncin’ Back” winds to a close and Mystikal takes a bow before exiting backstage. Wildchild begins stretching as ‘After the Flesh’ begins thumping from the speakers. The house lights grow dim, and smoke begins to crawl across the stage:

 

“His opponent, hails from Las Vegas, Nevada,” Funyon booms, “And he weighs in tonight at two hundred seventeen pounds! He is: JOHNNY, ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DAAAAANGEROUS!”

 

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Through the cloud of smoke, mirrors and lights, emerges Johnny Dangerous to

a cacophony of violent boos. Tonight, the Barracuda is also dressed in a black, Olympic-style singlet, only with the flag of the United States of America running vertically down each leg. Black kneepads and black wrestling boots complete this outfit, which happens to be a very familiar wardrobe for the Barracuda…. Usually not in singles competition, however.

 

 

 

“Get a load of this!” says Pete. “Johnny Dangerous is wearing the same gear as he did while wrestling in Wild and Dangerous - it was their uniform, if you will!”

 

“That's right,” King agrees with a firm nod. “He's wearing it to pay homage to the team that Wildchild destroyed with his pigheadedness.”

“More like in mockery of it!” snaps Pete. “Wildchild had nothing to do with Wild and Dangerous’ break up! He tried to stick with it for as long as humanly possible, which was a far greater amount of time than what I would have done. Besides, it was Johnny who walked out on Wildchild!”

 

“Apparently you don't pay attention to things, Drain-Clogger! Johnny has stated numerous times before that it was Wildchild’s lack of ability to follow directions, evolve with the times, as well as his inability to keep his focus off of Melissa Fasaki that ultimately led to the demise of Wild and Dangerous!”

 

“Oh, for heavens sake, King!” sighs Pete. “Try as you might to spin the events that we all saw, I don't think there is a soul out there that believes any of that nonsense! I'd be very surprised if Johnny actually, believed it himself, in fact - he's just trying to make some sort of excuse in his mind that allows him to lay the blame on someone other than himself!”

 

Standing at the top of the ramp, Johnny locks his cold eyes onto the eyes of his former friend standing inside the ring. His eyes narrow as he regards Wildchild - the disgust of all the faith he placed in the young man that he once trusted with his life bubbling up in his mind. And that simple thought makes the Barracuda fuming mad! He takes his first step off the stage, onto the ramp, and is immediately besieged by a chant from the crowd”

 

 

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

 

The chant is overwhelming, to say the least, but it's nothing that the Barracuda hasn't already heard before. Most likely, he figured, these Saudi Arabian fans were doing nothing more than copying what they'd seen the American fans do on television. They weren't informed. They knew none of the reasons why Johnny Dangerous had to fight Wildchild and, as far as the Barracuda was concerned, the fact that they would be witnessing one of the greatest battles in all time was far more than they deserved. That singular thought brings a small, devilish smile to Johnny’s lips, and gives him reason enough to feel justified in refusing to acknowledge the fans at ringside. Finally, after much stalling, Johnny Dangerous haughtily begins his walk towards ringside.

 

“Red Herrington will preside over this match,” notes Pete, as the Barracuda climbs into the ring and Herrington moves to keep him separated from Wildchild, “but there won't be much work involved for him - his only purpose is to start the match, and to end it after one of these two men verbally quit!”

 

“Which probably suits his poor skills best,” adds King. “Herrington has never been one to call a match straight down the line and, in fact, tends to let matches get out of control more often than not! In this situation, he only has to carry a microphone around to get a verbal confirmation and then call for the bell - there are no grey areas for him to look past… Even he ought to be able to handle this!” WC waves goodbye to Melissa, who returns to the backstage area as Herrington signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bell’s gone,” shouts Pete, “and we’re underway!” WC immediately walks up to Johnny and shoves both hands into his chest, pushing him backwards. Johnny returns the favor, and the two begin exchanging punches. Johnny is first to break up the fisticuffs, ducking behind WC and applying a rear waistlock, only for Wildchild to quickly counter with a standing armbar. Johnny pushes Wildchild back against the ropes, and then whips him across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber explodes off the ropes, knocking him down with a flying shoulder tackle! Johnny remains bellied out against the canvas while WC dashes back to the ropes, running over the top of him as he rebounds. Johnny lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop as Wildchild bounces off the ropes a second time, but WC catches him napping with a big kneelift! Wildchild slaps his thigh to signal for the Caribbean Cutter, and leaps into the air as Johnny begins to get to his feet, but the Barracuda sees it coming at the last second, and immediately bails in the opposite direction, scooting backwards out of the ring!

 

“Boy, I’m a little surprised to see these two attempting to wrestle,” remarks Pete.

 

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” counters King. “After all, it’s not like either of them would just be able to put the other guy in a headlock and make him give up. You have to wear down the other guy first, and wrestling is still the most reliable way to do that; get the other guy sucking wind, and then it’ll be harder for him to defend, and that’s when you can really start to do heavy damage, while the other guy is too tired to fight back!” Johnny slides back into the ring, and the two rivals lock up. Johnny takes control first with an armbar, but WC is close enough to the edge of the ring to grab onto the top rope and flip forward to alleviate the pressure, before reversing into an armbar of his own. Johnny rolls forward onto his shoulders, and then cartwheels to get free of WC’s grasp. He quickly drops down and swings his leg wildly, trying to knock Wildchild off his feet with a sweep kick, but the Human Hurricane deftly avoids the sweep by flipping backwards over it!

 

“What tremendous agility by the Wildchild!” exclaims Pete. WC pulls Johnny to his feet and whips him across the ring. He hooks his arm underneath Johnny’s as he bounces off the ropes to take him over with a hiptoss, but the Barracuda swings through the attempt. Johnny counters with a hiptoss of his own, but instead of being thrown across the ring, Wildchild flips forward and lands on his feet, scooping Johnny up off the canvas and then planting him back with a Scoop Slam!

 

WC pulls Johnny back to his feet and whips him into a nearby corner. He runs after him and leaps into the air, twisting as he draws near the corner to deliver his patented Blue Crush, but Johnny somersaults out of the way. Johnny quickly charges back into the corner to knock WC off of the turnbuckles, but the Bahama Bomber flips backwards into the ring. Wildchild springs off the canvas as Johnny turns around and locks his hands behind the Barracuda’s head as he falls backwards, taking him over in a monkey flip, only for Johnny to land on his feet!

 

“Boy,” says Pete, “these guys both seem to be a step ahead of the other on every move!” Johnny grabs WC as he gets to his feet and whips him into the ropes. Wildchild dives through his legs and then immediately springs up off the canvas to deliver a dropkick, but the Barracuda sees it coming a mile away, and swats his feet aside! Johnny swoops in to apply a side headlock, but WC immediately reverses into a hammerlock. Both men get to their feet, and Johnny reaches behind him to grab Wildchild by the back of the head, before taking him over with a snapmare. WC rolls to his feet and leapfrogs over Johnny as he charges towards him, and then leapfrogs a second time as the Barracuda bounces off the ropes. Wildchild runs after Johnny and leaps into the air as he prepares to rebound a second time, whipping his leg through the air and knocking Johnny over the top rope with a leg lariat!

 

“Here we go!” shouts Pete, as WC races across the ring. “Bid’ness is about to pick up!” Wildchild dives feet-first towards the edge of the ring and knocks Johnny into the ring barricade with a baseball slide! He then scrambles back to his feet and races across the ring, leaping into the air as he approaches the edge of the ring and flipping through the air as he sails out to the floor, crashing into Johnny with a tope con hilo that crushes his chest against the ring barricade!

 

“Beautiful somersault plancha by Wildchild!” exclaims LDP. Wildchild pulls Johnny up to his feet, but the Barracuda stuns him with a Shotei to the upper chest! Johnny gets another stiff Shotei in before WC begins to fight back. The two exchange blows outside the ring, with Johnny testing the mettle of his Shotei against Wildchild’s ferocious jabs:

 

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

Just when Wildchild appears to be about to take control, Johnny stuns him with a front kick to the midsection, and walks around the ring in order to try and catch a breather, but Wildchild follows in hot pursuit!

 

“It’s busting’ loose early, MacDougal!” shouts King. “They aren’t wasting any time!”

 

“All hell is beginning to break loose as Wildchild and Johnny take their battle outside the ring!” co-signs Pete. “And they can keep it out there for as long as they like: you can’t be counted out in this match, and you can’t be disqualified; you’ve gotta quit!” Wildchild catches up to Johnny and turns him around. The Barracuda tries to catch him off-guard with another boot to the midsection, but the Caribbean Cruiser grabs his foot! Johnny swings futilely towards WC’s face, until Wildchild spins him around, grabbing him by the waist and lifting him into the air to deliver an Atomic Drop, but the Secret Agent flips backwards over WC’s shoulders and lands on his feet behind him! Johnny shoves Wildchild forward, slamming his shoulder into the solid steel ringpost!

 

“Man, these two continue to match each other move for move!” proclaims Pete. “There’s no telling how long this match could be going on before one of them gains a decisive advantage!” Johnny attempts to get WC up in a vertical suplex, but the Tropical Tumbler blocks it. Wildchild blocks a second time, and then lifts Johnny up in a suplex of his own, dropping him forward, and crotching him on the top of the barricade!

 

“A seesaw matchup all the way,” says Pete, as Wildchild backs up along the arena floor, “but it looks like Wildchild might be the first to take an advantage!” WC races across the floor, leaping into the air as he approaches the barricade, and knocks Johnny out into the crowd with a running dropkick!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Wildchild quickly checks to see if Johnny is incapacitated, and then slides back into the ring, pumping his fist emphatically as he pops back to his feet.

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

“We could be seeing an Andros Dive coming up!” shouts Pete. Wildchild trots to the corner and then leaps onto the top rope, before running across it and diving out of the ring, over the barricade and into the crowd…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Where Johnny Dangerous drills him right between the eyes with a Johnny Kick!

 

 

“Oh my God!” shrieks Pete. “What a tremendous move!”

 

“Phenomenal move!” agrees King. “Terrific counter by Johnny Dangerous!” Johnny pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a front facelock, before lifting him overhead and slamming him down into the concrete floor with a vertical suplex! He then pulls Wildchild abruptly back to his feet and applies a standing headscissors, bends down to lock both arms around WC’s waist, and then lifts him overhead, moving briskly towards the ring barricade…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And driving him into the hard rubber barricade with a running powerbomb!

 

“My goodness!” cries Pete. “What a devastating series of moves by the Barracuda… And, wait a minute: he’s calling for the microphone!”

 

Johnny shoves palm underneath Wildchild’s chin, bending him backwards over the barricade, while he takes the microphone in his free hand and holds it in front of WC’s face.

 

“Say it!” he demands.

 

“NO!” comes the emphatic reply.

 

“Say it!”

 

 

“NO!”

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

Johnny slams the microphone into Wildchild’s forehead and then dumps him back over the barricade into the ringside area. He climbs over the barricade to return on his own, and then pulls WC to his feet, leading him over to the corner and bashing his head into the ringpost! Johnny turns Wildchild around and bashes the back of his head into the ringpost as well, and then slides into the ring, where he grapevines his legs around WC’s throat, pinning him against the ringpost while he attempts to choke him out!

 

“Good grief!” yells Pete. “I’ve never seen a choke done quite like that before!” Johnny demands the microphone from Herrington, and then shoves it into WC’s face:

 

 

“Give up!”

 

“No!”

 

“Goddammit, I said give up!”

 

“And I said hell no!”

 

Frustrated, Johnny releases his grip on WC’s throat. He slides out of the ring and pulls Wildchild back to his feet, rolling him inside the ring. Johnny grabs Wildchild by the waist and lifts him overhead to deliver a back suplex, but the Human Hurricane still has the presence of mind to flip backwards and land on his feet. He immediately springs back into the air as Johnny spins around, and blasts him in the face with a Gamengiri!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

WC quickly pulls Johnny to his feet and traps him in a front facelock, before lifting him overhead and spinning around, and he drops him back down onto the canvas with a corkscrew suplex! The Tropical Tumbler then runs to the corner and leaps onto the top turnbuckle, hesitating for nary a moment before he dives back into the ring to crush Johnny’s face with a flying kneedrop!

 

“King, can you believe that Wildchild has the energy to fight back like this?” asks Pete.

 

“The little bastard’s like a superball,” replies King incredulously. WC pulls Johnny to his feet and traps him in a front facelock, before asking for the microphone for the first time:

 

“Say it!”

 

“Not on your life!”

 

“Say it!”

 

“NO!”

 

CRACK!

 

Wildchild jams a series of kneelifts repeatedly into Johnny’s face! He then grabs the Barracuda by the back of the head and leads him over towards a nearby corner, slamming him headfirst into the top turnbuckle! Johnny leans heavily against the top turnbuckle and WC takes a few steps back before charging into the corner, leaping into the air and nailing Johnny in the back of the head with a running dropkick that crushes his nose against the top turnbuckle! A stream of blood sprays from the Barracuda’s nose as he collapses into the ring, where the Bahama Bomber straddles him and begins to batter him with rapid-fire right hands!

 

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

Wildchild rises up and retrieves the microphone from Herrington. He then walks back over to Johnny and bends down over him:

 

“Give up, already!”

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

Rather than give a verbal answer, Johnny blasts WC in the side of the head with a rising kick! He scrambles clumsily to his feet and then stuns Wildchild further with a ferocious European uppercut! The Barracuda whips Wildchild across the ring, slamming him back-first into the corner. He rushes in after him to follow up, but the Bahama Bomber hooks him underneath the arm and lifts him up, over, and out of the ring, down to the arena floor with a tremendous hiptoss!

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“Bah Gawd! What a hiptoss!” exclaims LDP. Wildchild climbs up to the top turnbuckle as Johnny is getting to his feet and leaps down to the arena floor, nailing the Barracuda between the eyes with a flying double-axe handle! “I have to admit that even I’m little surprised by how aggressive Wildchild has been in this match!”

 

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” barks King, as Wildchild walks over to the announce table. The Caribbean Cruiser removes the covering from the top of the table, and then pulls off the monitors and other assorted audio/video equipment.

 

“Oh no!” moans Pete. “Don’t do it, kid; you don’t want to do this!” Wildchild drags Johnny over towards the announce table and pulls him to his feet, before blasting him with a hard right hand that lays him out on top of the table! Wildchild quickly scampers back up to the ring apron, gesturing to the crowd as he heads towards the corner:

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“He can’t be thinking of doing this!” shouts King. Wildchild unleashes a feral scream before leaping backwards off the turnbuckle…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But Johnny Dangerous rolls out of the way at the last second, and he crashes into the announce table!

 

“What a brilliant move by the art of Johnny Dangerous!” praises King. “He just played possum until Wildchild committed to the move, and let him take himself out!” Johnny grabs a nearby chair and lays it flat on the floor. He then drags WC on top of it, before finding another chair.

 

“He’s not going to do what I think he is, is he?” Johnny raises the chair above his head and brings it down fiercely…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Crushing Wildchild’s skull with a one-man con-chair-to!

 

“My God!” exclaims Pete. “That was absolutely brutal!” Far from finished, however, Johnny drags WC’s lifeless body over to the edge of the ring, and drapes his body over the ring apron.

 

“What kind of heinous act does he have in store now?” wonders Pete, as Johnny rolls WC onto his stomach. Johnny walks over past the remains of the announce table and pulls up a length of electrical cable. He carries over to the edge of the ring and wraps it around Wildchild’s throat before crawling back into the ring. He scrambles to his feet and leans over the top rope to grab the cable as he commences choking Wildchild out!

 

“This is sickening!” exclaims Pete. “Johnny Dangerous is turning this into a lynching!” Johnny bellows at Herrington to surrender the microphone. Sticking it into WC’s face with his free hand, Dangerous demands that his former partner submit:

 

 

“Give up!”

 

 

“NO!”

 

“I swear to God, Dominic, I’ll choke you to death, right here! Now give up, God damn it!”

 

 

“NOOOOO!”

 

 

With a frustrated snarl, Dangerous decides not to make good on his promise to asphyxiate his nemesis, instead releasing his grip on the cable and unwrapping it from his neck before dragging him back in the ring. He pulls WC back to his feet, tightly locks his arms around Wildchild’s waist and then hauls him off the mat, planting him into the canvas with a German Suplex! The crowd boos ferociously, not only at the move itself, but when they see the Secret Agent still holding on – his hands still locked firmly around his former friend’s waist!

 

“It looks like the Barracuda might be going for two here,” notes Pete. Johnny pulls the Bahaman back up to his feet, and though dazed, Wildchild begins to fight back! He quickly swings his elbow back through the air, not sure where exactly it’s aimed, but in the general direction of where he believes Johnny’s face to be. Fortunately, his estimation is dead-on accurate, but unfortunately, it doesn’t have enough force to deter the nefarious Double Agent from his mission. Johnny fights back with several over-handed fists, pummeling them into Wildchild’s spine. It’s just enough to discourage any more struggling momentarily, but that’s all the Barracuda needs. He reaches around Wildchild’s with a rear waistlock and once more sends the Tropical Tumbler up and over, into the mat with the second German Suplex in succession!

 

WHAM!

 

Hitting neck-and-shoulders first, Wildchild is knocked senseless, but he’s barely on the mat before Johnny brings him back up to his feet once more. Dangerous finds the task a little less daunting than previously, as the fight that was there is missing, and he easily lifts his old friend through the air, slamming the Bahaman into the canvas!

 

WHAM!

 

“And there’s three!” reports King. “Johnny has been known to dish out some devastating suplexes in times past, and this is no different. I don’t think Wildchild even realizes what time zone he’s in right now!”

 

“Then he certainly won’t be able to say that he quits,” adds Pete, reassuring the viewers at home that they haven’t seen the end of this great battle just yet. “W-wait a second…what’s he doing now?”

 

Instead of releasing his hold on WC and fetching the microphone to drag out a yielding cry from the Bahaman’s lips, Dangerous STILL holds on – his fingers still interlocked together around Wildchild’s waist. Slowly, Johnny begins to drag the man once considered a brother to his feet yet again, and as the crowd watches with disgust, Johnny to a chorus of boos!

 

“Is he going for a fourth? Surely he wouldn’t – I don’t even think it’s been done before,” Pete says. However, that’s exactly what this conniving Agent of ‘Justice’ has in mind. With Wild held upright—slumped over but upright—Dangerous pops his hips forcefully as he hoists the Caribbean off the mat, sending him flying through the air with a release belly-to-back suplex!

 

“Hot damn! What a way to cap off a triple series of German’s,” crows King. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone absorb so many big hits that quickly!” Johnny gets to his feet and requests the microphone from Herrington. He walks towards his fallen opponent and as he does he begins to speak:

 

“This is it, Dominic,” the Barracuda hollers. “You can’t win, so just save yourself from life in a wheelchair and say it!”

 

Dangerous straddles over Wildchild and bends over, holding the microphone to his mouth, eagerly expecting the answer he knows is coming. Sluggishly, the Bahaman opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives his reply…

 

 

 

 

“NOOOOOO!”

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“I knew it,” Pete shouts excitedly, pumping his fist into the air. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to get the Wildchild to call it quits! His never-say-die attitude is shining brightly here tonight!”

 

Johnny furrows his brow and grinds down on his teeth, still hovering over his stubborn opponent. He tosses the microphone aside and then reaches down with both hands to grab LeCroix’s neck and squeeze the life out of it, when Wildchild suddenly brings his knee up, nailing Johnny square in groin!

 

OOOOOOOOOOH!

 

“Wildchild may have just bought himself some very, very precious time here,” says Pete, as Johnny staggers away from the Bahaman, both hands holding his groin, before finally dropping to his knees and burying his face into the canvas.

 

“See, that’s the kind of garbage that really pisses me off!” grumbles King. “How is Wildchild ‘teaching Johnny a lesson’ by kicking him in the jewels? His actions in the ring sure don’t echo his sentiments from earlier!”

 

“Oh, and I suppose Wildchild should just let an opportunity like that slide by without him seizing the moment,” replies Pete. “There are no rules here, King, and I certainly didn’t hear you complaining when Johnny was choking the poor life out of Wildchild with that audio cable a few minutes ago!”

 

Pain surges through the veins of both of these competitors bodies, evident by the grisly expressions on their faces as they begin to push up off the mat to get back up, each hoping that the other is worse off. Wildchild rolls onto his stomach and then reaches out for the ropes to begin pulling himself up. Johnny, halfway across the ring, rises up on his hands and knees, and slowly lifts his head up to check the location of his arch-rival. Slowly, the Barracuda returns to his feet and half-limps over towards Wildchild.

 

“Johnny Dangerous appears to still be suffering some effects of that knee to the lower abdomen,” says Pete, “But should still be in good enough shape to regain control of this match”

 

“Quit trying to be politically correct!” snarls King. “He kneed him in the balls!”

 

Thinking that he has a second to gather his bearings, Wildchild swipes his hand past his forehead, wiping it clear of the sweat and pushing his hair out of his face. He looks up and out into the legion of fans in the arena, all of whom are on their feet, cheering whole heartedly for the Bahama Bomber. He acknowledges them with a warm smile

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

“Wildchild had better watch out there,” warns Pete. “Johnny Dangerous is sneaking up behind him!”

 

Thinking that he has Wildchild by surprise, Johnny grabs his former tag team partner by his shoulder and spins him around…

 

SMACK!

 

…Only to really get by caught surprise himself with a quick backhand, knocking the taste right out of his mouth!

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

With his head slapped sideways, Johnny stumbles backwards as Wildchild moves off the ropes and swings his arm out again, smacking the Barracuda with the backside of his palm! With the Secret Agent reeling, Wildchild raises his arm out, nods to the fans and then turns his attention back towards Dangerous…

 

 

CRACK!

 

… Catching the glimpse of a fist headed towards him, right before it smashes into his skull!

 

“Oh my God! Cheap shot by Johnny Dangerous!” shouts Pete!

 

“There are no cheap shots in a match without rules, MacDougal!” mocks King “Remember?”

 

The shot catches Wildchild completely off-guard and sends him staggering into a nearby corner! Dangerous ignores the fans boos as he charges in with his fist drawn back, slamming a second right cross straight into Wildchild's temple and following through with a left hook for a third! Johnny rears back for one more shot, channeling all the strength he possibly can into it as he swings forward!

 

“Dangerous looks like might be trying to punch Wildchild into submission,” calls Pete, “as he works him over in the… he missed!” Suddenly, Wildchild ducks down just at the right moment, narrowly missing the haymaker as Johnny's fist whizzes right over the top of his head! WC quickly responds by sinking his foot into The Barracuda’s gut! Johnny doubles over, clenching his stomach, practically begging for Wildchild to abuse him by giving the Bahama Bomber the opening he needed! Trapping the Secret Agent head in a front facelock, the Human Hurricane hops onto the middle ropes and then uses them as a launching pad, swinging Dangerous around as he rockets out of the corner and spikes his head into the canvas with a Tornado DDT

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“Bah Gawd!” Pete winces at the impact. “What a counter by the Wildchild! Where does he keep finding the strength to fight back?”

 

With Johnny knocked to a whole different universe for the time being, Wildchild slides out of the ring and locates an always trusty weapon - a steel chair…currently being used by the ring announcer! Funyon knows the drill, however, and when he sees the Bahaman coming, he heads for the hills! The crowds let out a cheer as Wildchild grabs the chair and loudly folds it with a “CLANG!” and then rolls back into the ring.

 

“This could get really ugly in a hurry,” says Pete. “Wildchild’s quest to teach Johnny Dangerous a lesson is about to be driven home with a chair.”

 

Wildchild rears back as Johnny staggers to his feet, and swings mightily! The chair slices harmlessly through the air however as Johnny, seemingly playing possum, comes back to life just in the nick of time! WC brings the chair back around, but Johnny reaches out and clasps his palms together, catching the edge of the chair mere inches from his face! Dangerous rips the weapon from Wildchild’s hands and, in one fluid motion, swings the weapon back at Wildchild’s head!

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

AND ABSOLUTLEY PLASTERS WILDCHILD’S FACE WITH THE CHAIR!

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Wildchild crumples to the mat as Johnny smiles wickedly and raises the chair high over his head and slings it down into the Bahaman’s skull for a second time!

 

*CRACK!*

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

The chants begin to spill over from the fans, but Johnny ignores them, opting to open up the chair and sit it on the mat. He grabs Wildchild, pulls him to his feet, and shoves him face down through the back of the chair.

 

“What the hell is he doing?” asks Pete. “He’s already delivered one Con-chair-to tonight; what does he have in mind?”

 

“It’s not a Con-chair-to, that’s for sure!” crows King. “Think back to Genesis Four!”

 

Pete ponders this for a moment, before his eyes suddenly grow wide with horror. “No! He wouldn’t dare!”

 

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

The chants grow even louder as Johnny prances across the ring, leaving Wildchild prone in his man-made Weapon of Mass Destruction…THEN RUSHES IN, LEAPS UP AND DROP KICKS THE BACK OF THE CHAIR-

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

-FOLDING IT RIGHT INTO WILDCHILD’S RIB CAGE!!

 

“BAH GAWD! WHAT A SICKENING MOVE!” cries Pete, as the crowd unloads with a searing, horrendous jeer towards this ‘Agent of Peace.’

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

The chant evolves into boos as Johnny mocks the crowd with a bow, and continues to grow until it reaches a thunderous din! But even that doesn’t deter the Barracuda from his objective. He slides out of the ring and heads over towards the remains of the announce table, grabbing a jagged chunk of broken wood and sliding back into the ring with it. He pulls WC to a sitting position above the canvas and brandishes the wood over his head.

 

“Oh no!” squeals LDP. “Cameraman, go wide… I said go wide, God damn it!” The camera shifts to a faraway view just as Dangerous begins to rake the sharp edge of the wood across Dominic’s face!

 

“This is sadistic!” screams Pete. “This is cruel and unusual!” Johnny opens up a huge gash on WC’s forehead before he finally knocks him back to the canvas with a heavy stomp from his boot! He then heads towards Herrington and demands the microphone.

 

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” shouts Johnny over the roar of the crowd. “All of you! I want each and every one of you to hear it! I want all of you to know who it was that finally broke the Wildchild, and made him quit!” Johnny ranting, however, only seems to get the crowds going even harder as the chants grow faster.

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

“I want you all to have to hear it from his lips that I was right all along!”

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

“I want you all to hear him confess who the REAL weak link in Wild and Dangerous was!”

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the Secret Agent, Wildchild has squirmed out from between the chair and begins to push himself off the mat. His face is painted in crimson, and he can smell it…taste it…feel it. With one hand holding him off the mat, Wildchild begins to tremble. He looks up towards Johnny, ranting obliviously like a raving lunatic, and hears him bragging about he’d just broken the Bahaman.

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

He can hear the chants of opposition towards his so-called friend— his nemesis — and as the Barracuda’s name starts to ring clearer in WC’s ears, his anger and frustration begins to boil

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

… Until Human Hurricane erupts like Mt. Saint Helens!

 

“Dominic,” shouts Johnny, not even looking at his opponent, but instead pandering to the crowd. “I’m only going to tell you one time: SAY IT!”

 

“AAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

Startled, Johnny cocks his head to the side, and suddenly drops the microphone in shock as Wildchild comes TEARING across the ring towards him, practically frothing at the mouth! Johnny tries to assume a cocky martial arts pose, but before he can even decide what kind of art to use, the Bahama Bomber batters him with a violent storm of flying fists!

 

*WHACK!*

*WHAM!*

*CRACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

“SMACK!*

 

“Dear God, I think Wildchild’s gone over the edge!” cries King. Johnny is backed all the way into the ropes by force of the blows! Wildchild then grabs onto his arm and slings him across the ring towards the opposite ropes, following right on his heels. Johnny hits the ropes, bounces back, and

 

*WHAM!*

 

A stiff shoulder block sends Johnny staggering backwards! He slams into the ropes and awkwardly rebounds off them, stumbling right into a beautiful spinning heel kick!

 

*KA-RACK!!*

 

Blood begins to drip profusely from Johnny’s mouth as he falls heavily into the ropes! The Bahama Bomber leaps into the air, blasting Dangerous with a jumping kick to the mouth that lifts him clean off the mat!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

Still on his feet, but only barely, Johnny is defenseless as WC whips him forcefully across the ring, leaping high into the air as he rebounds and crushing his face with a FEROCIOUS flying high knee!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

The fans rejoice with a huge roar of approval after seeing the Barracuda laid out like the lying piece of trash that they believe him to be! Suddenly filled with fear, Johnny rolls over and tries to crawl across the ring, away from the clear and present danger, but WC grabs him by his slick black mane, rips him off the mat, and SLAMS his face into the canvas! Johnny’s head bounces off the mat like a well-aired basketball, but it still isn’t enough! Wildchild snatches his hair again, pulls his head back, and once again SLAMS his face into the mat!!

 

WHAM!!

 

Johnny rolls over onto his stomach, stars figuratively circling his head, as Wildchild pounces onto him, flinging his fist into Johnny’s face with all his might! The lively crowd begins to count along with the Bahaman’s punches:

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

TEN!

 

Wildchild leaps off the Barracuda as the crowds reach the count of ten, but he’s far from done dispensing pain! He leaps onto the second rope, flips off, and jams his knee into Johnny’s midsection as he comes down!

 

“Wildchild’s gone crazy!” exclaims King. “Somebody come out here and get this guy under control! Call security! Call the police! Call Animal Control! Damn it, call somebody!” WC peels Johnny off the canvas and leads him roughly by the back of the head to a nearby corner, where he proceeds to bash Johnny’s face into the top turnbuckle! Once again, the crowd chants in time with his assault:

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

TEN!

 

WC releases Johnny’s head and steps out onto the apron as the Barracuda falls backwards, collapsing onto the canvas. Wildchild releases a feral scream before leaping from the top turnbuckle, plummeting into the ring like a falling star, and obliterating Johnny’s face with his shin guard-covered leg!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“OH MY GOD!” cries King. “I mean… OH MY GOD! I never would have believed that Wildchild could be so damned vicious, he just KILLED Johnny Dangerous!” Wildchild slowly gets back to his feet, standing almost motionless, save for his troubled breathing, as his eyes bore a hole through the bloodied Secret Agent… when suddenly, his eyes begin fluttering and roll into the back of his head! The crowd gasps as the Caribbean Cruiser crumples to the mat!

 

“What the hell?” barks a perplexed King. “What the hell just happened? What did he fall over for; nobody even touched him! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

 

“It looks as if Wildchild’s injuries may have caught up with him,” explains Pete. “After the beating that he’s taken, combined with the blood loss, he could have just worn himself out! Now we have both men down, and quite possibly out!” Red Herrington, after seeing neither man move for several seconds, begins to count both men down:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

“What is Herrington doing?” asks King. “Why is he counting?”

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

“Because neither of them is moving, King,” replies Pete. “The match can’t continue if neither man is fit to go on!”

 

 

SIX!

 

 

“So, what does that mean?” demands King. “This match can’t end without a conclusion, can it?”

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

Fortunately, for both King and the fans, both men begin to exhibit signs of life. WC rolls over onto his stomach, as Johnny sits up wearily. Both men crawl over to each other and, with what appears to be hatred in their eyes, begin to exchange punches as they struggle to get to their feet:

 

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

SMACK!

BAP!

 

Just as they both finally get to their feet, Johnny stuns WC with a headbutt! He grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber reverses. WC lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop to the rebounding Barracuda, only for Dangerous to lower the boom with an elbow to the back of the head! The Barracuda flips the bird to the crowd as he pulls Wildchild back to his feet and traps him in a standing headscissors.

 

“He’s going for the Piledriver!” crows King, as Johnny lifts WC off the canvas. “And he hit it! Wildchild’s not going to have any choice but to quit now!” With a sadistic smirk on his face, Johnny gets to his feet and staggers over to the referee, snatching the microphone out of his hands. He walks back over to WC and slaps him in the face a couple of times before re-introducing the microphone:

 

“Give it up, kid!” says a weary Barracuda. “You can’t beat me; spare yourself further pain, and do the smart thing!”

 

WC slowly opens his eyes and looks up at Johnny before rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself to his feet. He hangs his head in disappointment as he holds his hand out for the microphone.

 

“This is it!” proclaims King. “Wildchild is going to quit!” Johnny grins maliciously as he hands the microphone over to his former partner. WC looks back up, his eyes brimming with tears as the fans implore him not to give in:

 

 

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

 

“I’ve never been beaten like dis before in my life,” begins Wildchild. “So Johnny, after all of our ups an’ downs… after everyt’ing dat we’ve been t’roo… an’ after everyt’ing dat we’ve put each otter t’roo in dis match, I’ve got two words dat I’d like to say…

 

 

 

 

“GET BENT!”

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Johnny’s cocky smile vanishes as he hears the last thing that he was expecting. He charges towards WC to deliver a right hook, but the Bahama Bomber blocks with his left forearm, and begins to snap Johnny’s head back with a battery of rapid-fire right jabs!

 

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

 

WC grabs Johnny by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Barracuda still has the presence of mind to force a reversal. Dangerous raises his arm to deliver a clothesline, but Wildchild ducks underneath him and explodes off the ropes as he rebounds a second time, knocking Johnny flat on his back with a leg lariat!

 

“Wildchild looks to have Johnny reeling!” shouts Pete. “But, can he get the Barracuda to give up?” WC pulls Johnny to his feet, but Dangerous stuns him with a rake of the eyes, and then grabs him from behind as he staggers away, taking him down to the canvas forcefully with a hangman’s neckbreaker!

 

“How can he hope to make him submit?” counters King. “He can’t even control the match for more than a few seconds!” Johnny takes advantage of the distraction to stumble over to the corner, where he removes the top turnbuckle pad.

 

“Oh my word!” groans Pete. “I think Johnny’s going to try and ram Wildchild’s face into that top turnbuckle! Hasn’t he done enough damage?” Sure enough, Dangerous pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him by the back of the head to the corner, where he rams him face-first into the top turnbuckle!

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But no! The Bahama Bomber gets his foot up to block the attempt, and rams Johnny’s face into the turnbuckle instead! Wildchild runs to the ropes as Dangerous staggers out of the corner and leaps into the air, grabbing Johnny’s head as he flies by, and smashing it into the canvas with a flipping neck snap!

 

“Whiplash!” shouts Pete. “Wildchild got him with the Whiplash… and he’s going to try for the Cutter again! This could be the turning point of the match!” WC shuffles nervously back and forth as he waits for Johnny to get back up. Once the Barracuda gets off his knees, Wildchild darts towards him, leaping high into the air and extending his leg to drive Johnny’s face into the canvas with a Caribbean Cutter!

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… But Dangerous counters, snatching the Tropical Tumbler out of the air and slamming him down with a short powerbomb!

 

 

“You’re damned right it’s the turning point!” crows King. “This is the final turn… the turn towards the end! The turn towards Wildchild finally calling it quits!” Still holding on to Wildchild’s leg, Johnny rises to his feet, slashing his free hand across his throat and shouting “That’s it!” before turning WC over onto his stomach and settling in to his patented over-the-shoulder half-crab!

 

 

“The Barracuda!” crows King. “This is it! There’s no way Wildchild can stand up to this kind of punishment!” Johnny growls ferociously as he shifts his weight as low as he possibly can, in an effort to increase the pressure to WC’s back.

 

“I have to admit that it’s not looking very good for Wildchild at the moment,” says Pete sorrowfully.

 

“Well, he doesn’t have much to be ashamed of,” says King in a quasi-facetious tone. “He’s had a pretty good career: he certainly accomplished more than *I* ever thought he was capable of, so you can say that he proved a lot of people wrong. And hey, he even got a girlfriend out of the deal… he should just cut his losses and call it a career!” Johnny beckons for Herrington to bring him the microphone.

 

“I told you!” shouts Johnny triumphantly. “I told you all that I was right all along; I told you that I was justified in my actions… and you’re all about to here the proof, as Dominic gives in to my righteousness!”

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

“Can you believe the nerve of this guy?” asks an incredulous LDP. “Isn’t enough that he’s about to defeat his former partner? Does he have to rub it in, too?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, MacDougal,” replies King. “OF COURSE he has to rub it in; rubbing it in is half the fun of winning!”

 

“Accept the reality of your situation, Dominic,” continues Johnny. “Admit your defeat. Admit your failure. Admit that I was right, and that I was just. Admit that I knew best all along!” Johnny lowers the microphone close to WC’s lips, but receives only an unintelligible gurgle in reply:

 

 

“HURK!”

 

 

“What’s that?” asks Johnny mockingly. “You wanted to say something?”

 

 

“HURK!”

 

 

“I’m sorry, Dominic, I couldn’t hear you over these idiot fans,” replies Johnny. “All of you idiots keep it down; Dominic here has something to say!”

 

 

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

JOHN-E SUCKS!

 

“Go ahead, Dominic,” continues Johnny. “Admit that I was right all along… Beg me to end your suffering… beg me for mercy… and it will be granted!”

 

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

PLEASE DON’T QUIT!

 

“Say it,” insists Johnny, as he thrusts the microphone back into Wildchild’s face.

 

“Johnny,” pants Wildchild. “I… I…”

 

“Yes?”

[the.weej 0]

“I… WILL… NEVER… QUIT!”

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Johnny’s eyes fly open in astonishment, and his sudden lack of concentration causes him to relax his grip on the half-crab, enabling WC to wriggle free! The Bahama Bomber begins to crawl on his belly towards the edge of the ring, slowly but surely inching away from the Barracuda!

 

“Way to go, Wildchild!” cheers LDP. “That’s telling ‘im, kid!” Wildchild pulls himself along the bottom rope until he reaches the corner. He uses the turnbuckles to help pull himself to his feet as Johnny, only just beginning to recover from the shock of being rebuked, charges over to the corner, but WC lurches out of the corner at the same time, and busts him in the mouth with a flying back elbow!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Wildchild stumbles back to his feet and pulls Johnny over to the corner, where he straddles the middle turnbuckle as he begins to whale away on the Barracuda with a ten-count punch!

 

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

TEN!

 

Wildchild winces in pain after completing the ten punches, the sudden movement aggravating his back, and his pause gives Dangerous just enough daylight to carry WC out of the corner, compressing his spine onto the Barracuda’s outstretched thigh with an inverted Atomic Drop!

 

“Tremendous counter on the part of Johnny Dangerous!” praise King. “Look at his eyes, though, MacDougal! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that look in Johnny’s eyes before!”

 

“I believe that’s called doubt!” replies LDP cheerfully. “I believe that Johnny might actually be starting to think that maybe he can’t really beat Wildchild; that maybe his crusade, and everything he did in the course of screwing Wildchild over and ending Wild and Dangerous wasn’t as righteous as he thought! That maybe he wasn’t justified in his actions after all!”

 

“That’s ridiculous!” says King. “He can’t actually be thinking that… can he?” Johnny exits to the ring apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. He steadies himself to dive into the ring with a flying attack, but his uncertainty causes him to hesitate. Only a fraction of a second, but more than enough for Wildchild to pop back to his feet and rush over to the corner, grab Dangerous, and heave him off the top rope!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“I can’t believe it!” shouts King. “Johnny got caught!”

 

“Believe it!” replies Pete. “I’m telling you, King, he’s starting to unravel!” The stress of throwing Johnny from the top turnbuckle sends a tremor through WC’s back which forces him to his knees. Johnny tries desperately to regain control, and charges back into the corner as the Bahaman gets back to his feet…

 

 

OOF!

 

 

… Only for WC to greet him with a kick to the midsection! And another! And another! Wildchild fights through the pain in his back as he knocks Johnny away from him. He grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but Dangerous reverses, sending WC crashing back-first into the exposed turnbuckle!

 

“Oh no!” moans LDP. “Johnny Dangerous just sent Wildchild slamming into that corner where there isn’t any turnbuckle pad! That’s got to be murder on his back!” The Barracuda charges into the corner, leaping into the air to crush WC against the turnbuckle with a flying knee!

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But the Tropical Tumbler dives out of the way at the last second, and Dangerous slams knee-first into the unprotected metal buckle!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

Johnny limps out of the corner limping and WC capitalizes immediately, kicking him in the back of his injured knee, and knocking him down!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“Johnny Dangerous may have just made a critical mistake!” exclaims LDP, as Wildchild delivers an elbowdrop to Johnny’s knee. “And now Wildchild is going to work on that injured knee!”

 

“Don’t let it end like this!” cries King. “Come on, Johnny, you’ve got to do something!” WC pulls Johnny to his feet and attempts to lift him up into a knee-beaker, but the pain in his back forces him to let go, just as he gets Johnny off the canvas! Dangerous takes full advantage, kicking Wildchild in the midsection stun him before trapping him in a front facelock…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… And driving him face-first into the canvas with a DDT!

 

 

“There you go!” cheers King. “That’s how you get back into the game… And, look at the eyes, MacDougal! It looks like Johnny’s starting to get some of that swagger back!” Johnny gets to his feet and beckons for Wildchild to rise as he gets down into a menacing Karate stance.

 

“Oh no!” cries Pete. “He’s going for that Johnny Kick! If he hits that, he’ll have Wildchild at his mercy to try what ever method that he can think of to get him to give up!”

 

Johnny dances back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waits for WC to get back to his feet. Without warning, he thrusts his foot forward to deliver the knockout blow!

 

 

SNAP!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber catches the foot out of the air, and wrenches his leg around, ripping Dangerous through the air with a Dragon-screw leg whip!

 

“Counter!” shrieks Pete. “He countered it!” WC quickly scrambles to his feet and bends over, spinning the shin guard around on his leg, and then whipping his arm through the air in a circle, to the delight of the crowd:

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“No, no, no!” pleads King. “Not this!” Wildchild spins Johnny’s leg around his, and then brings the other leg up, locking them together before he falls backwards to the mat!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“The Figure Four!” exclaims Pete. “It’s said that this move puts pressure on seven different points in the leg! After the injury that Johnny’s sustained to his leg, and with the shin guard adding to the effects of the Figure Four, how long will Johnny be able to hold on?” WC pushes up on the mat with one hand and, with the other, beckons for the microphone from Red Herrington.

 

“Say it!” demands Wildchild.

 

 

 

 

“No way,” replies King, taking it upon himself to speak for the Barracuda. “No way he says it!”

 

 

 

 

“Say it!” insists Wildchild.

 

 

 

 

Johnny, nearly overwhelmed with pain, looks into the eyes of his former best friend, and sees nothing but fierce determination staring back at him.

 

 

 

 

“SAY IT!”

 

 

 

Wildchild shouts at him again! Johnny Dangerous can clearly, and finally see that he just can’t break Dominic LeCroix

 

 

 

 

And, against such an indomitable will, the Barracuda’s resolve finally fails him…

 

 

 

“I… quit…”

 

 

“That’s it!” shouts Herrington, shouting at the timekeeper to ring the bell!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“He did it!” exclaims LDP. “By God, he actually did it! He beat Johnny Dangerous!”

 

Slowly, and painfully, Wildchild unravels his legs from Johnny Dangerous’ as his music begins to thump through the arena and the crowd roars to life! Herrington slides over and helps the Bahaman to his feet and then raises his arm into the air while Funyon makes the announcement…

 

“The winner of this match,” booms Funyon, “WIIIIIIIIILDCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILD!!”

 

“B-b-but…NO!” roars King. “Why in the hell did Johnny just quit!? He couldn’t have been hurting that bad – all he had to do was roll over and reverse that Figure Four!”

 

“Perhaps, and maybe I’m just trying to hard to see through the lines here,” says Pete, “but maybe it wasn’t the fact that Johnny Dangerous was physically hurting so much as I think it was a battle of wills. In the end, I think that the Barracuda finally realized that he would never break the Wildchild.”

 

“That’s preposterous!” spits King, crossing his arms obstinately. Wildchild pulls his arm away from Herrington, quickly realizing the finite stipulation reserved for the loser of this match. Though he is certainly pleased to have come out with the victory and to keep his career, this is certainly no day he ever wanted to see. He glares regretfully at the downed Barracuda, but only momentarily before Melissa Fasaki races into the ring and wraps her loving arms around Wildchild’s neck, and the Bahama Bomber, after being beaten to the point of exhaustion, finally collapses in her arms, dropping his tired face into her shoulder.

 

“I think this is a match that none of us will ever forget; it brought some tremendous action, some tense moments, and above all it showed us that mind really is over matter,” Pete says. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this night, that’s for sure!”

 

Finally, Johnny takes his eyes off the lights and starts to get up from the mat. He stops as he gets to his knees and just stares longingly at the canvas covering of the ring. It’s something so simple – something that the Barracuda would have never taken the time to think about…but it’s just one of the many things that he now realizes are gone. Johnny reaches out and gingerly runs his hand across the mat just once then begins to rise all the way up to his feet.

 

“Just look at that, King. Johnny Dangerous’ entire world has just come crashing down for him,” notes Pete. “Right now, it doesn’t matter if you loved him or hated him; you have to give him the respect he deserves for what he did give us and what Johnny Dangerous brought to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation.”

 

Johnny can’t bear to look at the fans right now. He keeps his focus trained on the floor as he steps through the ropes, onto the outside apron, and then moves down the steel steps. Every step he takes looking more wobbly than the first.

 

“He came into this Federation as a man that was easy to cheer for, but I think I can speak for most of us when I say none of us took him seriously,” continues Pete. “He defied all of that, though, having earned eleven Championships to his name in his career - the accomplishments of Johnny Dangerous will unquestionably stand on their own merit!”

 

Inside the ring, Wildchild lifts his head up from Melissa’s shoulder and he watches as his former tag team partner slowly heads up the entrance ramp.

 

“On top of all that,” says Pete, “I want to give my thanks to the Barracuda for giving us his all every night, and I am proud to have been able to comment on the matches throughout his career from this broadcast booth.”

 

At the top of the ramp Johnny stops. The curtains leading to backstage have been drawn open only a few feet in front of him…

 

His Final Exit…

 

He realizes that this is it, and that he will never live it again. Slowly he turns back towards the crowd and, more importantly, back towards Wildchild, who is still inside the ring with Melissa. Johnny looks towards them as they look back, and then the Barracuda’s attention is taken by the crowd:

 

The entire audience is on their feet.

 

 

Not cheering. Not jeering. Not even chanting.

 

 

But simply applauding.

 

 

Simply applauding a man for his career. In a sudden moment of clarity, Johnny finally understands and appreciates the recognition of the fans that have followed him for his years in the SJL and the SWF. With a sorrowful tear running down his cheek, Johnny nods his head to the crowd, raising his arm out to them in salute, and then inclines his head towards the ring. He nods, acknowledging the man who just beat him before dropping his arm to his side and turning an about face, back towards the curtains.

 

Taking one last, deep breath, Johnny takes one step forward and then another. Finally, he heads through the curtains, and Johnny Dangerous, the Barracuda, disappears from the SWF forever…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As We:

FADE OUT.

[the.weej 0]

“So, dear friends, if you’re tired of being unable to eloquently and gracefully express yourself, please give Elocution: The HVille Thugg Guide to Proper Speaking a try.” Beseeches the Hville Thugg, clad in a sharp-looking three-piece suit. “You won’t be disappointed...ho.”

 

The rather confusing advertisement draws to a close, and in its place comes a black screen and silence. A moment later, the viewer’s senses are suddenly and violently assaulted, as the shot abruptly switches to a view of the breathtaking Masid al-Nawabi, filled with tens of thousands of enthusiastic Saudi Arabians. As the camera pans over the teeming horde, Ramadomination’s official theme song blasts over the makeshift PA, whipping the already overexcited crowd into a frenzy. After a few moments, the camera settles on the calming image of Longdogger Pete and the King of Hearts, sitting behind their announce table beside the ring, which is set up just outside the mosque’s main building.

 

“And welcome back to SWF Ramadomination, ladies and gentlemen!” Pete enthusiastically cries. “This has been one of the more...unique SWF Pay-Per-Views, as we risk life and limb to bring you quality SWF entertainment from the heart of Saudi Arabia!”

 

“Blaspheming is what we do best.” King helpfully adds.

 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Pete nods. “In any case, we’ve had a tremendous Pay-Per-View thus far; both the Hardcore and International Titles were up for grabs tonight, as was the #1 Contendership to the World Heavyweight Title, as JJ Johnson and TORU Takahara battled it out in the finals of the Cold Front Classic.”

 

“What’s more, Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild beat the living shit out of each other in an I Quit match, a contest that’s been long overdue.” King continues. “Not only did they have their hatred of each other to motivate them, but also the fact that the loser of the match would have their SWF contract rendered null and void!”

 

“It’ll be hard to top what we’ve shown so far, but damn if our next two competitors aren’t going to try.” Pete boldly states. “In tonight’s Main Event, it’ll be the SWF World Heavyweight Champion El Luchadore Magnifico defending the title against ‘The Urban Legend’ Todd Cortez!”

 

“Well, at least this guy is better than the bum we had facing ELM at the last PPV.” King asserts. “And even though I can’t remember his name - ”

 

“It was Spike Jenkins.” Pete interrupts, annoyed.

 

“ – or anything about him,” King continues, unabated. “At the very least, Cortez can claim that he’s garnered a fall on Magnifico, something no one else has done ever since ELM decided to get serious.”

 

“Get serious?” Pete asks, incredously. “Do you mean when Magnifico turned on his friends and the fans and became a grotesquely immoral human being?”

 

“Yeah, that’s it.” King answers, smiling broadly.

 

Pete sighs. “It was on SWF Smarkdownoween that, during a Six-Man Tag, Todd Cortez locked Magnifico in the Street Dreams and made him submit. Furious, ELM challenged Cortez to a match shortly thereafter, but Todd refused...unless Magnifico put the World Title on the line. ELM begrudgingly accepted the stipulation on the condition that the match be pushed back to the SWF Holiday PPV.”

 

“And, here we are.” King finishes. “We’ve all waited patiently, but finally, we’ll see Magnifico exact his glorious revenge on Todd Cortez and prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he is greater that Cortez and, for that matter, everyone else in this pitiful federation.”

 

“Uh huh. Or, it could be that Cortez, who has proven himself to be capable of beating Magnifico, will end the luchadore’s miserable title reign and bring hope and joy back to the terrific fans of the SWF.” Pete bravely states, tears forming in the corners of eyes.

 

“Hahaha. God you’re pitiful.” King openly mocks Pete.

 

LDP grits his teeth and struggles to maintain his composure. “Let’s...let’s go to Funyon to get this match underway.”

 

The camera cuts to Funyon, who is looking handsome as ever in his reliable, fashionable tuxedo. He stands proudly in the middle of the ring, surrounded by an unbelievably large crowd, breathtaking in its size. The fans mumur anxiously amongst themselves...

 

Yeah..

One for the treble, two for the bass...

 

...before exploding into cheers upon hearing the strains Mos Def’s “Oh No.” Their raucous ovation easily drowns out the song’s opening strains, and only grows louder when two bursts of pyro shoot upwards from either side of the ramp, their sparks raining down upon the entrance stage as Todd Cortez strides out from behind the curtain. Wearing an expression of complete determination and concentration, Cortez swiftly makes his way down the ramp, paying no mind to the hordes of fans that line either side of it.

 

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

 

Cortez approaches the ring and rolls beneath its bottom rope, before heading to the nearby corner and ascending its turnbuckles. When he reaches the top, Todd throws his arms in the air and looks out over the crowd, bathed in the flashbulb light of ten thousand cameras as he does so. After a moment, Cortez steps back onto the canvas and removes his sunglasses and bulletproof vest before handing them to the referee. He then does the same with his gold chain and cross, kissing the cross and holding it to his forehead for a moment before relinquishing it to the ref. With his posessions in the official’s hands, Cortez strides across the ring and steps in front of the far corner, beginning a simple stretching routine as his music slowly fades into silence and the crowd’s reaction finally dies down.

 

“This match has been a long time coming for Todd Cortez.” LDP asserts. “He’s been long recognized as one of the most talented competitors in this federation, but up until a few months ago, he was satisfied with being one half of Martial Law.”

 

“Thankfully, he’s not teamed up with that worthless punk Maddix anymore, as Martial Law broke up in dramatic fashion over one Megan Skye.” King spits. “No one deserves to be on the same tag team as that bastard. But since the breakup, Cortez hasn’t really done much of anything.”

 

“Maybe not.” Pete admits. “But that doesn’t mean he’s undeserving. Not only is he a Three-Time Tag Team Champion, he’s also a former US Champion and one of the greatest Hardcore Champions the SWF has ever known. Cortez has earned this shot. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

 

The crowd once again returns to its anxious murmuring, knowing who’s coming out next and ready to boo their little hearts out at a moment’s notice.

 

“HEY HEY!”

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMM*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

They get their chance when Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers, in time with a burst of red, white, and green pyro exploding upwards from the stage. A moment later, Magnifico bursts through the pyro-induced smoke, the World Title wrapped around his waist and his Mexican Flag flapping gracefully behind him. Pointedly ignoring the tens of thousands of fans booing his every move, Magnifico quickly makes his way down the ramp and towards the ring.

 

“And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds...” Funyon announces, “He is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOORRE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

The spirited introduction doesn’t help Magnifico’s case any, as the spirited booing continues even as the luchadore reaches the ring and rolls beneath its bottom rope. Once inside, ELM pops to his feet and steps into the center of the ring, stealing a quick glare at Cortez as he does so. With Todd carefully watching his every move, Magnifico looks out over the crowd, a disgusted sneer painted across his face. He thrusts the Mexican Flag high into the air, bringing another wave of boos upon the luchadore as his entrance music slowly fades into silence.

 

“Well, even though Magnifico’s shown himself to be despised the world over,” Pete begins, “It’d be hard for anyone to argue the man’s legacy. He’s only the second man to hold the World Title four times, and has held the belt for a combined two hundred and ninety-eight days, more than any other World Champion in the federation’s history, which - ”

 

“Which should tell you how small a chance Cortez has at winning tonight.” King finishes, grinning. “I’m surprised, Pete. You’re usually not this blunt and truthful.”

 

“What I was going to say is that it’ll make Todd’s victory tonight all the more glorious.” Pete counters, matter-of-factly. King crosses his arms and grumbles something unintelligible.

 

Magnifico retires to the corner opposite Todd’s and begins to stretch as the referee hands the various posessions of ELM and Cortez to a nearby aide. As Magnifico warms up, he finally locks eyes with Cortez, who has been coldly staring at the luchadore ever since he walked out onto the entrance stage. ELM expressionlessly returns the stare for a few moments...before grinning broadly, almost looking excited about the upcoming match. Cortez raises an eyebrow as Magnifico finishes his stretching and steps out of the corner, the grin on his face only growing wider.

 

“Look at that! Completely fearless and confident in victory, that’s what Magnifico is!” King cries. “Any reservations he might have had in facing Cortez are totally gone; in its place are unparalleled bravery and unequaled strength of will!”

 

Pete suddenly smacks King upside the head.

 

“Ow! What was that for?!” King questions, annoyed.

 

“The overblown monologue.” Pete simply answers. “Knock it off.”

 

The ref looks between the two men and, upon seeing that everything is in order, signals for the bell.

 

DING DING DING

 

Cortez steps out of his corner and begins to pace around the ring, keeping his eyes locked on Magnifico, who does the same on the other side of the squared circle. With the crowd’s anticipation building by the second, Todd and ELM deliberately circle each other, slowly but surely getting closer to each other and to the center of the ring. Finally, they’re within arm’s reach of one another, and both Cortez and Magnifico lunge at each other, locking up at the center of the ring as the crowd pops for the official start to the contest. ELM and Todd push each other back and forth for a few moments before Cortez gains control, pulling Magnifico into a Side Headlock. The luchadore writhes under Todd’s grip for a few moments before stepping backwards, pulling Cortez with him as he falls into the ropes behind him. Magnifico uses the momentum to push Todd forward and off of him, sending Cortez rushing across the ring and towards the far ropes. He bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards the luchadore, who greets Todd by leaping into the air and extending his legs, looking to wrap them around Cortez’s head for a Hurricanrana! However, Todd manages to duck beneath Magnifico’s legs and continue running, bouncing off of the ropes behind the luchadore as he’s landing on his feet. Before Magnifico can even finish spinning around, Todd is exploding off of the ropes and leaping into the air, aiming his entire body at the luchadore! Cortez’s shoulder slams into Magnifico’s side with ridiculous force, immediately knocking the surprised luchadore to the mat with the Hollow Point! A mighty cheer rises from the crowd as Magnifico immediately rolls out of the ring and steps to the outside, gasping for breath as Todd pops to his feet inside the ring, a carbon copy of ELM’s grin plastered on his face.

 

“Hollow Point!” Pete cries. “Cortez draws first blood with a Hollow Point Spear out of nowhere, and Magnifico looks like he was caught completely off guard!”

 

“A simple ruse, I assure you.” King counters. “As he’s done numerous times in the past, ELM is simply drawing his opponent into a false sense of security. Once Cortez feels he’s secure in victory, BAM! That’s when Magnifico will strike. Checkmate..”

 

Breathing heavily, Magnifico looks inside the ring and sees Cortez standing in the center of it, his arms crosses and his mouth curled into an infuriating grin. Scowling, ELM smacks the apron, rolls back in to the ring, and pops to his feet, Cortez not moving a muscle until Magnifico is back on his feet. When he does stand, Todd uncrosses his arms and begins to pace around the ring once more, followed by ELM a second later as both men begin to circle each other around the ring again. Once Magnifico is within his reach, Todd lunges towards him, looking to lock up again...only for ELM to suddenly thrust his forearm upwards and into Cortez’s chin, surprising him with a European Uppercut! The force of the blow knocks Todd into the ropes behind him, and before he can push himself off, the luchadore steps up and grabs him by the arm, before using his grip to whip Cortez across the ring and towards the far ropes. Todd bounces off of the far ropes and charges back towards Magnifico, who lashes out with his arm, looking to slam it into Cortez’s neck with Lariat! However, Todd manages to roll beneath Magnifico’s arm and pops to his feet behind him, spinning to face the luchadore as the luchadore spins to face him. But as Todd spins, he also lifts and lashes out with his leg, slamming it into the side of ELM’s head with astounding force, immediately knocking Magnifico to the canvas as an impressive roar rises from the pleased audience. Cortez immediately falls to the mat and covers the luchadore, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Magnifico kicks out after two, quieting most of the live audience.

 

“Todd’s off to a fantastic start thus far, as he surprises Magnifico with the Hollow Point and follows it right up with a very stiff-looking Roundhouse Kick!” LDP excitedly reports.

 

“It may have looked painful, but I promise you that Cortez’s kicks are in fact rather weak and pathetic.” King asserts. “It’s a little known fact that Todd’s legs are about as spindly and weak as Kevin Nash’s, and as such any kicks delivered by said legs pack no punch whatsoever.”

 

Undeterred by the lack of a pinfall, Todd rolls off of Magnifico, grabs him by the hair, and then stands up, pulling ELM to his feet with him as he stands. Cortez leads Magnifico over to the nearby corner and simply drives his forehead into the top turnbuckle, before releasing the grip and allowing the luchadore to collapse into the corner. Not wasting a moment, Todd immediately begins to pummel away at the luchadore’s body with a series of kicks, slamming his foot into the luchadore’s stomach, chest, and ribs while the delighted crowd grows louder with each blow. Cortez finally finishes assault, leaving the luchadore slumped in the corner, still standing only because his arms are hooked around the top ropes. However, Todd doesn’t allow him to rest, as he grabs ELM by the arm, pulls him out of the corner, and then whips the luchadore across the ring and towards the far corner. Cortez rushes after him a second later, trailing only a few steps behind Magnifico as he bears down on the corner. But before Todd can do whatever it is he planned on doing, Magnifico unexpectedly runs up the corner’s turnbuckles, kicking off of the top one and flipping backwards in mid-air! ELM executes a perfect flip and lands on his feet, confident that Todd wasn’t able to stop himself and ran into the corner. As such, he’s a tad concerned when he sees nothing in front of him but an empty corner...and his concerns prove to be well-founded when Cortez’s arm wraps around his neck from behind and pulls Magnifico downward, locking him into a Dragon Sleeper as the excited crowd pops in anticipation!

 

“Cortez was one step ahead of his opponent, as he skid to a halt while ELM ran up the turnbuckles, and as such was right behind Magnifico when he landed on the mat!” Pete explains. “Todd’s quick thinking has allowed him to lock ELM into the Dragon Sleeper, which is the first part of the Street Dreams!”

 

“Psh, you act like Todd’s achieved an unbelievable victory with his laughable trickery.” King scoffs. “Outsmarting Magnifico even once is an impressive feat, but let’s see if he does anything with the situation he’s created for himself.”

 

The second Todd locks in the Dragon Sleeper, Magnifico begins to wildly twist his body and flail his arms violently, doing his best to prevent Cortez from pulling him down to the mat. Luckily for the luchadore, he’s still fairly close to the ropes and manages to grab onto the nearby top rope before Todd can get tired of his crap and pull him down to the canvas. Seeing the rope break, the ref immediately insists that Cortez break the hold, and Todd begrudgingly complies. The second Magnifico’s out of the hold, he spins towards Todd and slaps him across the face, knocking Cortez’s head to one side as the surprised fans gasp as one. ELM takes advantage of Todd’s surprise by delivering a quick jab to his chin and following it up with several more, backing Cortez up into the center of the ring as the annoyed fans boo spiritedly. Magnifico eventually lets up on his assault and grabs Todd by the arm, looking to use his grip to whip Cortez across the ring. However, Todd manages to reverse the whip, sending ELM towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and charges back towards Cortez, who steps forward and shoots his hands out, wrapping them around the luchadore’s neck right after he comes off of the ropes! A deafening pop rises from the crowd as ELM grabs Todd’s arms and desperately tries to pry his hands away, trying his best to escape Cortez’s grip before he can execute the Urban Assault!

 

“Urban Assault! Cortez has Magnifico by the neck and appears ready to hammer him into the canvas with his signature Sitout Chokeslam Bomb!” Pete announces.

 

“Complete unabashed cheating!” King cries. “Choking! This is what Todd Cortez has resorted to to try and get a leg up on Magnifico! I am ashamed to say I’m employed by the same company as this ruffian.”

 

His eyes staring coldly into Magnifico’s, Todd begins to lift his opponent into the air...only to immediately stop when ELM suddenly drives his knee forward, slamming it into Cortez’s gut! Todd’s grip weakens significantly as he doubles over, allowing Magnifico to break free of it. ELM lands on his feet and immediately throws another knee into Todd’s stomach, doubling him over further and allowing Magnifico to easily pull him into a Front Facelock. Magnifico then immediately throws his body backwards, whipping Todd over his head and slamming his body into the canvas with a Snap Suplex! His mouth agape, Todd arches his back in pain only to immediately be pushed back to the canvas, as Magnifico covers him right after landing the Suplex. As Magnifico reaches over and hooks Todd’s leg, the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Cortez easily kicks out after two, drawing a few cheers from the encouraging crowd.

 

“Serves Todd right!” King indignantly declares. “I, for one, will not tolerate such outright underhandedness in this federation!”

 

“That statement might have a little more weight if it hadn’t of come from the most blatant cheater in the history of the SWF.” Pete casually responds, earning himself a nasty glare from King.

 

ELM immediately rolls off of Todd and begins to stomp away at the Urban Legend as he struggles to his feet. Cortez manages to stand despite the constant kicking from the luchadore, but the second he’s on his feet, Magnifico grabs him by the arm and whips him across the ring, sending him towards the far ropes. Todd turns and bounces off of the ropes, and as he does so, he catches sight of Magnifico running towards him at top speed! ELM suddenly hits the mat, his feet aimed directly at Cortez’s shins with a Baseball Slide! Todd manages to hop over the sliding luchadore...only for Magnifico to reach up and grab Cortez by the leg in mid-hop! Todd falls flat on his face as Magnifico slides beneath the bottom rope, grabbing Cortez’s other leg as he steps to the outside! ELM simply jerks backwards on both of Todd’s legs, yanking him beneath the bottom rope and throwing him to the thinly-padded concrete floor! Todd cries out and curls up his body in agony as he lands flat on the floor, the pain of the sudden impact spread out to every part of his body. The crowd as a whole roundly boos Magnifico’s actions, and in particular the ones right near him curse ELM out in indecipherable but undoubtedly nasty Arabic.

 

“Now that’s the sign of a true competitor!” King boldly states. “Even after Todd somehow managed to dodge ELM’s blazingly fast Baseball Slide, he still had the presence of mind to grab Cortez’s leg in mid-air and cut off any annoying let ultimately-meaningless offense Todd might have had planned.”

 

As Magnifico begins to gleefully kick away at the ribs and kidneys of Todd Cortez, the referee begins his count from inside the ring.

 

ONE!

 

After a few moments, ELM seems to tire of simply kicking the snot of out of Cortez and instead grabs him by the arm, using the grip to whip Todd across the floor and towards the far guardrail. Cortez turns and crashes back-first into said guardrail, his body bending over the formed steel as he throws his head back and cries out in pain. The entire crowd seems to wince as one as Magnifico suddenly breaks into a sprint, charging at Todd with frightening speed!

 

TWO!

 

However, as ELM bears down on Cortez, the Urban Legend suddenly dives out of the way, leaving Magnifico suddenly bereft of a target! Panicked, ELM leaps into the air before running into the guardrail, instead landing on top of it as nearby fans fight the urge to push him off! But Magnifico has a hard time keeping his balance on the rail, as he waves his arms wildly in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling off!

 

THREE!

 

Suddenly, Todd hops onto the guardrail beside Magnifico, garnering an incredelous look from the luchadore even as he struggles to keep his balance. Cortez’s intention becomes obvious when he grabs ELM’s right arm with his right and hooks his left leg around Magnifico’s right, setting him up for a Russian Leg Sweep on top of the guardrail!

 

FOUR!

 

Not pausing for a moment, Cortez immediately throws himself off of the rail, falling to the floor and slamming Magnifico’s back into the floor with the Russian Leg Sweep off of the guardrail! The impressed crowd roars its approval as Magnifico’s eyes widen and his back arches in pain, while Cortez grimaces and grits his teeth right next to him.

 

“What an inventive, amazing move from Todd Cortez!” Pete cries, honestly impressed. “Cortez took advantage of ELM’s imbalance on the guardrail, which allowed him to easily set up and execute the Side Russian Leg Sweep from the rail to the floor!”

 

“Yeah, slamming his own back into the floor at the same time.” King rolls his eyes. “I mean, look at him! Todd’s obviously in more pain than Magnifico, which isn’t surprising considering ELM’s legendary tenacity and tolerance to pain. I predict that ELM will be on his feet and in the ring before Todd can even respond to the ten count.”

 

FIVE!

 

Indeed looking to be in severe pain, Todd writhes on the floor for a few moments, looking no better off than his opponent...before suddenly kipping to his feet, hopping into the air, and sticking out one leg, dropping it across ELM’s neck as he falls to finish the Side Russian Leg Sweep/Leg Drop Combo! Elated cheers pour in from every part of the corner as Magnifico writhes around on the floor, choking for breath as Cortez pops back to his feet beside him.

 

SIX!

 

“You were saying?” A grinning Pete questions King.

 

“Shut it, Longdogger.” King snaps.

 

Once Todd is standing, he grabs Magnifico by the hair, painfully pulls him to his feet, and rolls him into the ring. Cortez slides in right after him, pops to his feet, and grabs the luchadore by the arm, before using his grip to pull the luchadore to his feet. Todd then whips Magnifico across the ring, sending ELM rushing towards the far ropes as he steps into the middle of the squared circle. Magnifico bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Cortez, who sidesteps towards the luchadore and throws his foot into the air, aiming it right at Magnifico’s forehead for a Superkick! However, ELM manages to skid to a halt and throw his hands in front of his face, catching Todd’s foot mere millimeters in front of his face! Magnifico immediately throws Cortez’s foot to one side, spinning his body around on one foot. But before Todd can complete his spin, Magnifico steps forward and wraps his arms around Cortez’s waist, locking him into a Rear Waistlock in the center of the ring! Cortez abruptly throws an elbow backwards, only for Magnifico to duck beneath it and loosen his grip a bit, allowing Todd to spin around before reapplying the now-Front Waistlock! Not wanting any further interruptions, Magnifico immediately hoists Todd into the air and throws him over his head, driving Cortez’s body into the canvas with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex! The disappointed fans boo as one while the luchadore floats over and covers Cortez, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-No! Cortez kicks out at two and a half, drawing a few hopeful cheers from the live audience.

 

“Brilliant countering from Magnifico, as he not only reverses Todd’s Superkick but turns his attempt at escaping the Rear Waistlock against him and into a Belly-to-Belly Suplex!” King mindlessly gushes.

 

“Well, I guess Magnifico was due to outsmart someone eventually.” Pete casually replies, ignoring King’s indignant glare a moment later.

 

ELM rolls off of Cortez, grabs him by the arm, and stands up, pulling Todd to his feet as he stands. The second Todd’s on his feet, Magnifico suddenly lashes out with his arm, slicing it deep into Cortez’s chest with a biting Knife-Edge Chop!

 

*SMAAAAAACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Even Saudi Arabians know of the greatness that is Ric Flair, as they cheerfully “whoo” the Knife-Edge Chop despite the man doing the chopping. The strike sends Todd stumbling backwards into the corner behind him, collapsing into its turnbuckles as Magnifico steps up and draws his arm back once more...

 

CHOP!

 

*SMAAAAAAAACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Todd’s chest glows a flourescent pink as Magnifico grabs him by the arm, pulls him roughly out of the corner, and whips him across the ring. Cortez rushes towards the far corner and crashes back-first and violently into its turnbuckles, visibly stunned by the impact as he flounders out of the corner and towards the center of the ring. Grinning to himself at his good fortune, Magnifico suddenly breaks into a sprint from the other side of the ring, charging at Todd Cortez at frightening speed! But as he approaches, Todd suddenly steps forward and grabs Magnifico around the waist, before hoisting him into the air as the delighted crowd roars in anticipation! Cortez immediately sits out while driving Magnifico’s body downwards, slamming his back into the canvas with the Sitout Spinebuster! Another wave of passionate cheering pours in from the overexcited crowd as Cortez pushes back Magnifico’s legs, making the pin while the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, quickly sobering the live audience.

 

“Magnifico seemed to be in complete control of the contest, until Todd retook charge with a surprise Sitout Spinebuster!” LDP cheerfully reports.

 

“More trickery! Does Todd Cortez’s aggressive unsportsmanlike behavior never cease?!” An outraged King cries.

 

“King, you can’t automatically assume that Todd was suckering Magnifico into that Spinebuster.” Pete patiently explains.

 

“I can and I will.” King snaps. “It’s completely clear to me at this point that Todd Cortez isn’t even in ELM’s league and must resort to unbridled cheating to even remain in the contest.”

 

Not resting for a moment, Todd grabs Magnifico by the hair and stands, painfully pulling ELM to his feet as he does so. Still gripping Magnifico’s scalp, Cortez steps behind his opponent and pulls the luchadore into a Inverted Facelock, immediately drawing another anticipatory pop from the overexcited crowd! However, before Cortez can move onto the next part of the Street Dreams, Magnifico suddenly spins his body around, turning the Inverted Facelock into a regular one! Magnifico then charges forward, pushing Todd in front of him like a two hundred and twenty-six pound Latino battering ram! Cortez tries to plant his feet and stop the luchadore’s forward progress, but isn’t able to do it before ELM rushes him through the top and middle ropes, the crowd “OHHHH!”ing in surprise and dismay as both men tumble awkwardly through the outisde! Both Magnifico and Todd crash onto the floor, hitting the thinly-padded concrete at awkward angles as the nearby fans cringe sympathetically for the two competitors.

 

“Goddamn!” Pete shouts. “Magnifico, desperate to counter the Street Dreams, grabs Todd and simply charges him through the ropes and to the outside!”

 

“There was nothing desperate about ELM’s actions!” King sharply counters. “His plan to escape Todd’s joke of a submission was calculated and flawless.”

 

“Really. Which part of the plan entailed him tumbling to the outside and landing hard ona concrete floor?” Pete asks.

 

“Part C.” King matter-of-factly replies.

 

Both men lie motionless on the floor, completely still save for the spasmic jerk of a arm or leg. From within the ring, the ref begins to count out both Todd and Magnifico.

 

ONE!

 

A moment later, Cortez stirs and rolls onto his stomach, remaining there for a second before beginning the ardous climb to his feet. Magnifico joins the climb shortly thereafter, trailing only a step or two behind his opponent.

 

TWO!

 

Todd lunges to his feet, leaning the apron to keep his balance. Beneath him, Magnifico reaches one knee, only to have an annoyed Cortez crack him in the jaw with a quick right. Stunned by the blow, Magnifico nearly falls back to the floor, but Cortez grabs him by the arm and jerks him to his feet before he can do so.

 

THREE!

 

“Let the man back on his feet, for God’s sakes!” King implores. “At least pretend like you’re concerned with making this a fair contest.”

 

However, as ELM is pulled to his feet, he suddenly throws his knee forward, slamming it into the gut of Todd Cortez! A surprised Urban Legend doubles over and grasps his gut in pain as the fans in first couple rows angrily boo and curse the luchadore for his unexpected attack. Their displeasure only grows when Magnifico grabs Todd by the scruff of the neck and the back of the pants, using his grip to drag Cortez with him as he charges towards the steel steps on the far side of the floor!

 

FOUR!

 

As Magnifico approaches the steps, he abruptly throws Cortez forward, hurling his body violently at the unyielding steel structure! Todd manages to duck his head and avoid a blow to his skull, instead taking the full brunt of the impact on the back of his head and shoulders! A collective wince rises from the audience as Todd falls to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. Magnifico rubs his jaw at the spot where Cortez slugged him a moment ago, scowling as he stares down coldly at his opponent.

 

FIVE!

 

“Now THAT’S more like it!” King cheerfully surmises. “Nothing makes a point like simply throwing your opponent into a block of formed metal.”

 

“And what point would that be?” Pete pries. “That he’s tired of Cortez getting one over on him at virtually every opportunity?”

 

“Yes! I mean, shut up!” King snaps, annoyed.

 

After a short breather, ELM grabs the motionless Urban Legend by the hair and yanks to his feet, before rolling Cortez beneath the bottom rope and into the ring. Magnifico rolls in a second later and immediately covers his opponent, hooking Todd’s leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting.

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Cortez gets a shoulder up at two and a half drawing a few hopeful cheers from the live audience. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Magnifico rolls off of Todd, climbs to his feet, and slams the tip of his boot into Cortez’s kidney. The crowd grows louder and louder as ELM continues to kick away at Todd’s side, shouting at Cortez in furious Spanish as he does so. Cortez starts to climb to his feet even through the kicks, which doesn’t improve Magnifico’s demeanor any. When Todd reaches one knee, ELM suddenly grabs him the hair and pulls him into a Front Facelock, before grabbing and hooking one of Cortez’s legs! As anticipatory boos pour in from every corner of the mosque, Magnifico hoists the Urban Legend into the air, looking to spike his head into the canvas with the Barrio Buster! However, before he can do just that, Todd reaches up and wraps an arm around Magnifico’s neck, at the same time grabbing one of the luchadore’s legs! Cortez then throws his body backwards, pulling Magnifico with him and down to the mat before rolling him up and pinning him to the canvas! The elated crowd roars in excitement as the surprised luchadore struggles wildly to escape, doing all he can to break the pin as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR-No! Magnifico just barely escapes the three count, drawing a disappointed “OHHHHH!” from the capacity crowd. ELM springs to his feet immediately after escaping the pin, while Todd struggles to his a couple feet away. However, the second he stands, Magnifico immediately charges towards him and lashes out with his arm, slamming it into Todd’s neck and knocking him to the canvas with a quick Lariat! The incensed crowd spiritedly boos the luchadore as he begins to wildly stomp away at Todd Cortez, furious at his reversal of the Barrio Buster.

 

“Serves you right.” King smugly declares. “Magnifico was about to perfectly execute his signature Barrio Buster, and you had to go ahead and reverse it. Nobody likes a spoil sport, Todd.”

 

“Believe it or not, King, Todd’s main goal here isn’t to make Magnfico look good.” Pete explains, rolling his eyes as he does so.

 

“You mean he’s still clinging to the ridiculous dream of winning this match?” King scoffs, disbelieving. “How pathetic.”

 

After delivering countless stomps to various parts of Todd’s prone body, the still-angry Magnifico grabs Cortez by the arm, jerks him to his feet, and immediately cracks him in the jaw with a European Uppercut, sending Todd stumbling backwards into the ropes behind him. Cortez drunkenly leans up against them, but only receives a moment’s rest as Magnifico hastily grabs him by the hand and pulls him off the ropes, before using his grip to violently whip Todd across the ring. Cortez bounces off of the ropes on the other side of the ring and charges back towards Magnifico, who lashes out with his arm as Todd approaches, looking to drive it into his chest with a Knife-Edge Chop! However, Cortez manages to duck beneath ELM’s arm, immediately jumping into the air after doing so! Todd’s feet land on the middle rope but only stay there for a moment, as he quickly springs backwards off of the cable and flies towards the luchadore, extending his arm in mid-air for a Springboard Lariat! ELM spins around just to have his neck bashed in by Cortez, who makes perfect contact with the Lariat, slamming his forearm deep into Magnifico’s throat as the the surprised crowd roars in delight! Choking for breath, ELM scrambles to his feet as Todd rolls to his, both men spinning to face each other as they stand. An incensed luchadore rears back to strike Cortez, but before he can even ball up a fist, Todd blasts the luchadore in the chest with a ridiculously stiff Side Kick, literally knocking Magnifico backwards and into the corner behind him!

 

“God knows where he’s getting it from, but Cortez is displaying one hell of a second wind!” Pete reports, barely able to hide his excitement. “All it took was one moment of inattention for Todd to regain control of this match in dramatic fashion!”

 

“Yeah, because lots of World Champions made their way to the top by meaninglessly bouncing and flying off of the ropes.” King grumbles. “Enjoy his harmless little outburst while it lasts, Pete. Cortez’s downright laughable offense won’t work again, I promise you.”

 

ELM leans languidly against the corner, only staying on his feet because his arms are hooked over the top rope. Todd doesn’t seem to mind, though; he steps in front of Magnifico and abruptly lashes out with his leg, slamming the tip of his boot into the right side of ELM’s head with a ridiculous amount of force! Magnifico’s head is knocked violently to the left and he threatens to fall out of the corner, but before he can do so, Cortez jerks his leg in the other direction, driving the heel of his boot into the luchadore’s left temple! Magnifico’s head is knocked back to the right, and this time it appears he’ll just fall flat on his face...until Cortez suddenly leaps into the air, driving his boot into ELM’s skull with a graceful yet cringe-inducing Gamengiri! The force of the kick easily knocks Magnifico out of the corner, his lifeless body crashing onto the canvas as the fans cheer louder than they have all night. Immediately after landing on his feet, Cortez quickly grabs Magnifico by the arm, drags him into the center of the ring, and turns him onto his stomach, right before covering him to the great delight of the crowd. Cortez hooks the leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting, helped along by the heavily-accented English of the overly excited live audience...

 

ONNNEEE!

 

TWWWWOOO!

 

THRRR-No!! Magnifico gets a shoulder up just before the ref’s hand can slap the mat a third time, drawing a collective and disappointed “OHHHHH!” from the gigantic, raucous audience.

 

“No! An amazing two-kick combo topped off with a Gamengiri from Todd Cortez, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep Magnifico down!” Pete reports.

 

“Who is he, Chuck Norris? KNOCK IT OFF WITH THE KICKS, ALREADY!” King shouts, annoyed.

 

“Well, you really shouldn’t be concerned, King.” Pete sympathetically comforts his broadcast partner. “After all, Cortez’s ‘laughable offense’ is nothing to worry about, right?”

 

“Cute, Longdogger.” King responds, smiling sarcastically as he inwardly curses himself for not being able to think of a better comeback.

 

Still hopped up on adrenaline, Todd quickly rolls off of Magnifico, grabs him by the arm, and then pops to his feet, pulling the still-stunned luchadore to his in the process. Cortez drags Magnifico into the center of the ring before throwing his knee into the luchadore’s gut, doubling him over and allowing Todd to easily pull him into a Standing Head-Scissors. Todd wraps his arms around ELM’s waist, takes a deep breath...and then hoists the luchadore onto his shoulder, beginning the setup to the Neckwrecker to the great delight of the live audience!

 

“Neckwrecker! Todd’s going for his signature Canadian Backbreaker Neckbreaker, which could very well end this match should he be able to land it!” A hopeful LDP reports.

 

Cortez releases his grip on Magnifico’s waist so that he can shift it to his neck...but ELM manages to slither off his shoulder as he does so, landing on his feet directly behind the Urban Legend! Magnifico immediately makes a break for the ropes, bouncing off of them and charging back towards Cortez as Todd spins to face the luchadore, clearly annoyed at his escape from the Neckwrecker. As ELM approaches, Todd suddenly lashes out with his leg, aiming his foot at the side of Magnifico’s head with a Roundhouse Kick! Magnifico manages to roll beneath the kick just in time, Cortez’s leg barely grazing his scalp as he does so! Magnifico pops to his feet behind Cortez, spinning to face him as Todd, delayed a second by the momentum of his kick, spins towards the luchadore. The second his eyes meet Magnifico’s, the luchadore drives the tip of his boot into Todd’s stomach, doubling him over in the center of the ring. ELM grabs Todd by the arm before kneeing him right under the chin, immediately and violently knocking Cortez upright as the annoyed crowd spiritedly boos the luchadore’s actions. The stunned Urban Legend offers little resistance as Magnifico wraps Todd’s arm behind him with a Chicken Wing, before wrapping his own arm around Cortez’s head! ELM then falls to his knees, pulling Todd down with him and driving his shoulder into Magnifico’s shoulder with Montezuma’s Revenge! Todd springs backwards off of ELM’s shoulder and falls flat on his back, lying motionless on the canvas as a mixture of concerned and angry boos pour in from every part of the mosque. Magnifico quickly covers Cortez, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR-No! Todd gets a shoulder up just before the three count, drawing a relieved pop from the capacity crowd.

 

“Magnifico somehow manages to survive all of Todd’s misplaced martial arts and escape the Neckwrecker, right before punishing the foolish man with Montezuma’s Revenge.” King efficently summarizes.

 

“A second ago, those ‘misplaced martial arts’ were beating the snot out of Magnifico.” An annoyed Pete adds. “Good on ELM for escaping the Neckwrecker, but don’t act like he wasn’t in serious trouble right before doing so.”

 

“I think I’ll do just that, thank you very much.” King stubbornly counters.

 

ELM pushes himself off of Cortez and shoots a nasty glare at the ref, who innocently holds up two fingers in his defense. Magnifico rolls his eyes and rises to his feet, where he doesn't even rest for a moment before abruptly making a break for the nearest corner. With the live audience booing his every move, the luchadore quickly ascends the corner’s turnbuckles Todd remains motionless on the canvas. ELM reaches the top turnbuckle and crouches upon it, taking his attention off of Cortez for a brief moment to ensure his balance before leaping off of the top rope. When he looks back down at the mat, he sees the spot formerly occupied by Cortez troublingly empty! Even more concerning is that Magnifico sees Todd out of the corner of his eye lunging at the top rope, throwing his whole body onto it in an attempt to upset ELM’s balance! Cortez’s actions do just that, as Magnifico looses his footing and falls straight down, getting crotched on the top turnbuckle as the delighted crowd roars its approval. ELM’s eyes and mouth widen as the pain paralyzes his entire body, the luchadore too distracted by the unbearable agony to notice Cortez purposefully heading towards him.

 

Pete winces. “Once again, we see Cortez can take serious advantage of a moment of inattention, no matter how small it may be!”

 

“So this is what our once-proud federation has been reduced to. Cheap laughs from crotch shots.” King grimly assesses.

 

Todd quickly ascends the corner’s turnbuckles, the crowd’s anticipatory cheering growing louder the higher he gets. Cortez reaches the top turnbuckle and delivers a quick shot to Magnifico’s jaw, making the sure the luchadore is thoroughly stunned before he continues. Todd carefully stands up on the turnbuckle before grabbing Magnifico by the hair and just as carefully pulling him to his feet. Cortez then grabs ELM by the leg and under the arm and hoists him into the air, holding the luchadore against his body as if for a Fallaway Slam! Cortez doesn’t even wait for the crowd to cheer in anticipation before leaping backwards off of the turnbuckle, holding Magnifico against his body as he executes a picture-perfect backflip in mid-air! Thousands of flashbulbs illuminate the scene as Cortez slams ELM’s back into the canvas with a ridiculous amount of force, completing the Moonsault Fallaway Slam as the amazed fans release a deafening pop! Cortez’s body is knocked slightly into the air by the force of the impact, but he simply falls right back onto Magnifico’s chest, effectively making the cover to the great delight of the live audience! Cortez lies motionlessly across Magnifico’s chest as the ref slides into position and begins counting, everyone in attendance gleefully counting along with his slaps of the mat.

 

ONNNNNNNEEEE!!

 

TWWWWWOOOOOOO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRNNNNOOOO!!

 

“OHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

Magnifico gets a shoulder up mere milliseconds before the three count, drawing a collective disappointed gasp from the live audience. Cortez wearily rolls off of Magnifico and stares blankly up into the night sky, his chest heaving as he wonders what he’s going to have to do to keep ELM down for the three count.

 

“No! No!” Pete cries, as disappointed as the fans in attendance. “Cortez hit the amazing Moonsault Fallaway Slam, but Magnifico just managed to kick out! Todd had nearly become the World Heavyweight Champion!”

 

“And thank God he didn’t, because it’d be the sham victory to end all sham victories.” King snaps. “Todd’s Moonsault Fallaway Slam is nothing but an overblown acrobatic display that pucks little if any punch.”

 

“Ah, so you’re saying that, in reality, it’s a fairly weak move.” Pete confirms.

 

“Yes, exactly.” King grins, happy that LDP sees his point for once.

 

“Okay. I’ll keep it in mind that Magnifico very nearly lost his title to such a weak maneuver, then.” Pete casually states, earning himself another nasty glare and some mumbled curses from King.

 

Cortez rolls onto his stomach and begins to slowly push himself to his feet, the strain that the contest is putting on his body beginning to show itself. Eventually, Todd lunges to his feet falls against the ropes, breathing heavily as he struggles to remain on his feet. He looks down on Magnifico with unmistakable anger and frustration, staring holes into him as the luchadore lays motionless on the canvas. After a few moments’ rest, Todd pushes himself off of the ropes, grabs ELM by the arm, and slowly pulls the dead weight off of the canvas. Once Magnifico’s on his knees, Cortez roughly pulls him into a Standing Head-Scissors, drawing another wave of anticipatory cheers from the excited crowd. Cortez locks his arms around Magnifico’s waist, further inspiring the crowd as they anxiously await Todd’s Riot Act Plus! Todd closes his eyes and gathers the strength to complete the move...but isn’t given a chance to finish, as Magnifico grabs him by the legs and suddenly stands up, hanging Cortez over the luchadore’s back and putting him in postition for a Double Leg Slam!

 

“Yeah! There we go!” King suddenly cries, “Todd isn’t ever going to land the Riot Act Plus on Magnifico. Of course, if he never learns that, it’ll keep getting reversed, so whatever.”

 

ELM tries to whip Todd’s body forward and execute the Slam, but Cortez is holding himself steady with his vice-like grip around Magnifico’s waist! Before ELM can attempt anything else, Cortez reaches down, grabs Magnifico by the legs, and pulls back hard on them, jerking him downwards and towards the mat! Todd rolls ELM up with the Sunset Flip, pinning the struggling luchadore to the canvas as the ref slides into position and the fans cry out in surprise and joy...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHRRRRRNNNNOOOO!! Magnifico breaks free of the pin and rolls to his feet, doing so as Cortez does the same a few feet in front of him. Todd stands first and immediately charges at the luchadore, throwing his arm out with a quick Lariat just as Magnifico is standing. However, ELM manages to duck beneath Todd’s arm, Magnifico spinning to face Cortez as he skids to a halt after missing the Lariat! Todd turns to face ELM and is immediately grabbed by the leg and under the arm, right before Magnifico hoists Cortez into the air as if for a Scoop Slam!

 

“Well, Magnifico might not have been able to follow through on his original brilliant counter to the Riot Act Plus,” King gleefully begins, “Everything ended up turning out for the best, as he’s mere moments away from spiking Todd’s skull into the canvas with the Dia de los Muertos!”

 

Magnifico is just about to drive Todd’s body downwards when Cortez unexpectedly slips out of his grip, slipping down the luchadore’s shoulder as the relieved crowd releases a massive cheer. They only grow louder when Cortez wraps his arm around Magnifico’s neck, locking in the Dragon Sleeper as he lands on his feet behind the luchadore! Not wasting a moment, Todd immediately falls onto his back, dragging ELM down to the canvas with him before wrapping his legs around Magnifico’s body! Cortez then wraps his left arm around Magnifico’s, wrenching back on it and finally locking in the Dragon Sleeper to the great delight of the crowd!

 

“Street Dreams! Street Dreams!” Pete cries, halfway out of his seat. “Cortez reversed the Dia de los Muertos into his signature Modified Dragon Sleeper, the very submission that he used to make Magnifico tap out over a month and a half ago! It took three tries to lock it in, but Todd now looks to be on the verge of winning this match!”

 

The ref falls to his knees and gets in the luchadore’s face, asking the luchadore if he wants to submit as Todd wrenches away at his neck and shoulder. ELM’s response is a shouted “NO!” followed by a string of unintelligible curses. Annoyed at his resistance, Cortez clamps down on Magnifico’s neck and pulls back even further on his arm, nearly tearing it out of the socket as the luchadore cries out in excruciating pain. The camera closes in on Magnifico’s face, getting a perfect view of the unsightly expression of agony his face has twisted into. The luchadore seems ready to submit, until he suddenly...smiles? Magnifico instantly stops struggling, causing a confused Cortez to look down at the luchadore’s face and catch sight of his unsettling grin. As an irritated yet curious Todd tries to figure out what Magnifico could find positive about this situation, ELM suddenly pulls his legs inwards and plants his feet, right before using his position to push himself off of the canvas! With the submission still being applied, Magnifico arches his body backwards, pushing Todd onto and pinning his shoulders to the mat! The dismayed fans immediately stops cheering and look on in alarm as the ref slides into position and begins counting, doing so as a surprised Cortez tries to untie himself as quickly as possible...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHRRRRRRRRNNNOOOOO!! Cortez unhooks his legs and arm and gets a shoulder up just before the three count, breaking the bridge and causing Magnifico fall harmlessly to the canvas.

 

“Damn it!” King snaps, annoyed. “Magnifico was this close to reversing the Street Dreams into a pinfall and compltely humiliating Todd Cortez.”

 

“It was an unexpected and effective reversal to be sure,” Pete begins, “But why did Magnifico seem so panicked when Todd went for the Street Dreams the first two times?”

 

“Because he wanted Cortez to believe that he feared the Street Dreams; that if he locked it in, the match would surely be over.” King happily explains. “Of course, I’m sure Magnifico planned on ending the match with that reversal, but no big deal. With Todd now completely confused and demoralized, it’ll only be a matter of time before ELM scores the pinfall.”

 

Magnifico rolls away from Cortez and begins to push himself to his feet, where the lingering effects of the Street Dreams make themselves evident. Pain still racking his neck and shoulder, ELM sluggishly rises to his feet, moving much more slowly than Cortez. Tired but basically unharmed and motivated by his growing hatred of the luchadore, Todd quickly gets to his feet and strides over to Magnifico, who has just reached his hands and knees. Cortez steps in front of the luchadore, wraps his hands around his neck, and painfully pulls him to his feet, Magnifico wearily clawing at Todd’s hands as he’s lifted off of the canvas. Todd then smoothly lifts ELM into the air, the crowd growing louder in anticiption the higher Cortez raises the luchadore. Todd looks up and stares coldly into Magnifico’s eyes...before suddenly sitting out and driving ELM’s body downwards, slamming it hard into the canvas with the Urban Assault! Magnifico bounces off of the mat before falling lifelessly to the canvas, his body completely broken as the crowd roars for what they feel must be the end of the contest. Cortez deliberately grabs Magnifico’s legs and pushes them back, pinning ELM to the mat and drawing the ref down to make his count. The elated crowd excitedly counts along with the ref as his hand slaps the canvas...

 

ONNNNNEEE!!

 

TWWWOOOOOOO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNOOOOO!!

 

“OHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

Magnifico gets a shoulder up! An astonished Cortez glares at the ref, unable to believe that ELM managed to kick out. Todd argues spiritedly with the official, who refuses to change his decision regardless of how virulently Cortez makes his case.

 

“Boy, look how confused and demoralized that Todd Cortez is.” Pete cleverly observes. “The poor soul. Magnifico should just put him out of misery here and now.”

 

“Shut it, Longdogger.” King snaps. “Admittedly, Magnifico’s cutting it a little close here, but you’d do well to observe that Cortez has been unable to garner a pinfall even with his most powerful moves. If you ask me, it’s going to take nothing short of a Riot Act Plus to keep Magnifico on the canvas, and it’s been shown time and time again that Todd simply cannot hit him with that move.”

 

Tired of bickering with the official, Todd begins to wearily climb to his feet, leaving Magnifico motionless on the canvas beneath him. He stands and expressionlessly looks down at his opponent, breathing heavily and appearing to be in deep thought. After a few moments, Cortez slowly reaches down, grabs ELM by the hair, and pulls him off of the mat. An excited murmur rises from the crowd as Todd pulls a kneeling Magnifico into a Standing Head-Scissors, ready to finish him off once and for all. Cortez reaches down, wraps his arms around Magnifico’s waist, and pulls him to his feet, putting him into the starting position for the Riot Act Plus! Their anticipation building by the second, the fans grow louder and louder as Cortez summons the strength to execute the Canadian Destroyer and end this match. Todd takes a deep breath...and then leaps over Magnifico, starting the Riot Act Plus! But as he’s passing over the luchadore’s head, Magnifico suddenly shoots out his hands and uses them to grab Todd’s ankles! Cortez is immediately stopped in mid-air, stuck hanging over ELM’s back and in position for the Double Leg Back Piledriver!

 

“Yeah! What’d I tell you?” King shouts, delighted. “Cortez foolishly went for the Riot Act Plus once more, and Magnifico’s going to counter it just like he did in their first match! The Double Leg Back Piledriver’s going to crack his head right open and put him down for the three count!”

 

However, before Magnifico can execute the Piledriver, Cortez unwraps his arms from around ELM’s waist, then uses his newly-freed limb to reach back and lock Magnifico’s head in a Front Facelock! Todd then kicks his legs and free and throws his body backwards, looking to pull ELM down with him and drive his skull into the canvas with a DDT! However, as Todd’s doing that, Magnifico reaches out with his arms and wraps them around Cortez’s neck, stopping his attempt at a DDT and putting him in position for a Northern Lights Suplex at the same time! However, before he can make good on his hold, Cortez suddenly throws his knee into ELM’s gut, sufficently stunning the luchadore and preventing him from landing the Northern Lights Suplex!

 

“No! Todd tried to reverse Magnifico’s Double Leg Back Piledriver into a DDT, which ELM just attempted to reverse into a Northern Lights Suplex!” Pete breathlessly reports.

 

Moving quickly, Cortez throws Magnifico’s arm over his shoulder and lifts him high into the air as if for a Vertical Suplex...only for ELM to wriggle out of his grip mid-lift, flipping over Todd’s shoulder and landing behind him! Facing the opposite direction as Cortez, Magnifico immediately reaches back and hooks Todd’s arms as if for a Backslide! With Cortez in tow, ELM then makes a break for the nearby corner, the panicked live audience shouting and booing at him as he does so! Paying them no mind, Magnifico runs up the turnbuckles, pushes backwards off of the top one, and flips over Todd’s hand! ELM falls onto his knees, pulling Cortez down with him and violently slamming his face into the canvas with the Baja California Crusher!

 

“YEAH!! Whoo!” King pumps his fist. “What an ending! After trading countless reversals, Magnifico puts Todd down with the Baja California Crusher! Fantastic!”

 

“He hasn’t even attempted a pin yet, King!” Pete counters, irritated at King’s outburst and dismayed at the direction the contest has taken. “Don’t count Cortez out until the match is over.”

 

“Please.” King scoffs. “Only Danny Williams has kicked out of the Crusher, and he was extraordinarily lucky to do that. Todd Cortez is no Danny Williams.”

 

The crowd has been struck almost completely silent, the only sound emanating from the mass of people being an odd curse or shout directed at the luchadore. Barely able to stay on his knees, the supremely exhausted luchadore struggles to keep it together long enough to finish the match. Slowly, wearly, Magnifico grabs Cortez by the shoulder, turns him onto his back...and then falls onto him to make the cover. Neither man moves a muscle as the ref slides into position. The live fans seem to collectively hold their hands over the mouths and silently pray as the ref begins his count...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE!!

 

DING DING DING

 

“Your winner, and STILL, SWF World Heavyweight Champion...” Funyon dutifully announces. “EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOORRE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Magnifico rolls off of Cortez and onto the canvas, his eyes closed as a triumphant grin slowly creeps across his face. Dejected and dispirited by what they just saw, the fans begin to empty the mosque, doing so as the referee leaves the ring to fetch the World Heavyweight Title.

 

“Magnifico wins.” Pete reports, crestfallen. “Once again, he came out of nowhere with the Baja California Crusher, which was finally enough to keep the resilient Cortez down for the three count.”

 

“C’mon Pete, cheer up.” King encourages. “By gaining his second singles one against Cortez, Magnifico has just proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no one in this fed who can touch him. That he’s on a completely different level than everyone else. Surely you can get behind the idea of there being one wrestler for the rest to look up to.”

 

Pete looks thoughtful for a moment. “Y’know, you’re right.”

 

“That’s the spirit. You should - ” King begins.

 

“Because that just makes it all the more satisfying when someone finally puts Magnifico in his place.” Pete finishes, his eyes staring coldly into King’s.

 

Unsure of how to respond, King returns the unsettling glare for a moment before turning his attention back to the ring, which the ref is entering with the belt in his hands. The ref walks up to Magnifico, who slowly opens his eyes and turns towards the official. Smiling softly, ELM reaches out and gently takes the title from the ref’s hands. Magnifico clutches the title and closes his eyes, the grin on his face growing wider and more unsettling as he does so.

 

“That’s it for SWF Ramadomination, ladies and gentlemen.” Pete begins. “Thank you for watching, and Happy Holidays.”

 

The final image broadcasted is that of El Luchadore Magnifico, his eyes closed and a broad grin on his face as he holds the World Heavyweight Title close to his chest ...

 

FADE OUT

[the.weej 0]

Ho Ho Holy Snap! That PPV was falaffel!

 

Alright, just kidding. Sorry. I just wanted to do that.

 

Surprises all around in this one, a PPV that I can safely say way exceeded expectations. Pour yourself some egg-nog, sit back, and read through this one. With luck, the missing matches should be edited in before tomorrow afternoon.

 

Happy Holidays! See y'all in '06.