SWF LOCKDOWN! 1/4/06

[Justice 0]

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

SWF FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! LIVE, WEDNESDAY JANUARY 4TH, FROM THE UNITED CENTER IN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS!

(7pm PST, 10 pm EST; check local listings)

 

Sweet home, Chicago! The SWF rings in the new year the only way we know how: With the ringing of heads! Hey, why mess with a good thing? We wanted to play with some fireworks, but alas, they thought that might be a bad message for the kids. The first card of 2006 presents a small, but interesting, selection of matches featuring some of the very best the fed has to offer. And to be sure, those who don't have a match may just be popping in anyway. It's a card that's low on calories, but high on PAIN! SWF LOCKDOWN!

 

MAIN EVENT

Cruiserweight Title Match

Cruiserweight Rules

JJ Johnson© vs. Zyon

JJ Johnson enters the new year as the undisputed #1 contender to the world heavyweight championship and the leading challanger to El Luchadore Magnifico's iron-fisted reign. But with a take-it-to-the-bank guarantee for a match with the champ at Clusterfuck, the coming weeks will be very intersting, indeed. But! Before business... uh... more business. JJ still has another title to take care off, and he faces off with Zyon for the cruiserweight title in a barnburner to kick off 2006!

Rules: Cruiserweight rules, Family Friendly etc

 

Singles Match

Matt Myers vs. Aidan Redmond

Something tells me this match isn't going to be going down as planned.

Rules: Singles match?

 

Singles Match

Tim Dillon vs Kevin Coyote

The last time we saw Tim Dillon, he was either lost in Afghanistan or wearing a giant penguin suit. Presumably he's neither of these things right now, but that's the thing with IL characters, you just never know. He faces off against Kevin Coyote. Kevin Coyote, he's hip, he's new! Tim Dillon, he's not. FIGHT.

Rules: Singles match, Family Friendly etc

 

Singles Match

Ced Ordonez vs. Ghost Machine

Gadzooks! Mystery abounds as the mysterious Ghost Machine makes a mystifying return! Personally, I prefer Ghost in the Shell, and neither of these guys are Major Kusanagi. But anyway, th aura of intrigue around these guys is so thick you can almost feel it! Is Ghost Machine a man? A robot!? The Boston Strangler in disguise!? TUNE IN TO NITRO TO FIND OUT!

Rules: Singles match, Family Friendly rules.

 

Opening Bout

TORU Takahara vs. Martin "Big Country" Hunt

After a stinging loss to JJ Johnson in the finals of the Cold Front Classic, TORU Takahara remains a champion, but a tag team one; still without that distinction in singles matches that he has recently been pursuing. To usher in the new year, however, TORU has been given a gift: An easy match to get his groove back! Shake ya' tailfeather!

Rules: Singles match, Family Friendly rules.

[Justice 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first match of 2006!” Longdogger Pete booms. “We are LIVE inside the United Center in Chicago, Illinois, and our main event tonight will see a long-awaited rematch as Zyon challenges JJ Johnson for the Cruiserweight Title; the same JJ Johnson who is now the number one contender for the World Title held by El Luchador Magnifico!”

 

“Johnson should stick to what he has,” Suicide King declares with some finality. “He may be the business at kicking seven kinds of-”

 

“-strudel,” Pete cuts in, eager not to anger the censors in the first few minutes of the New Year’s broadcast.

 

“-out of his opponents,” King carries on as if LDP had never intervened, “but when it comes to the World Title there is only one man in this company who has what it takes, and that’s Magnifico.”

 

“Well I think you and Magnifico might find that JJ Johnson wants to argue that point,” Pete replies, “and in fact our first match of 2006 sees the man who found out just how much Johnson wants that World Title, as we’re going to see TORU Takahara - who Johnson beat in the final round of the Cold Front Classic - take on Martin ‘Big Country’ Hunt!”

 

As if in response to the Miami Menace’s words - oh, how those guys in production like to hit their cues - the strains of ‘A Country Boy Will Survive’ by Hank Williams starts up. Moments later the curtain at the top of the entrance ramp is brushed aside and out stomps the familiar figure of the former Hardcore Gamer’s Champion with his bottle of liquor in hand.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms. “Introducing first, from Boone, North Carolina; he weighs in at 220lbs; this is MARTIN… ‘BIG COUNTRY’… HUUUUUUUUUUUUUNT!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The fans’ reaction doesn’t seem to do much to deter Hunt as he stamps up the steps, then ducks through the ropes and raises his bottle of Southern Comfort on high. Referee Brian Warner quickly takes it off him (we can’t have alcohol on Lockdown, don’t you know), but then the lights drop down and the strobes start up as three familiar letters flash onto the Smarkton:

 

 

T

 

K

 

O

 

 

The harsh drums and riffs of ‘Teethgrinder’ by Therapy? start up, causing a vague cheer from some of the crowd who are still entertained by the cheating ways of Japan’s finest. A few seconds later a bulky figure in a black vinyl trenchcoat and mirror shades appears on the soundstage before striding down the entrance ramp, flanked as ever by the sharp-suited Chris Card and the (reasonably demurely-dressed) Natasha.

 

“And his opponent, from Saitama Prefecture,” Funyon declares, “weighing in tonight at 264lbs and accompanied to the ring by Chris Card Enterprises; he is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, this is ‘The Japanese Hammer’… TORRR-RRRRUUUUU… TAKA-HAAARRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAA!!”

 

TORU sheds his coat and shades before he gets to the ring, then hops up to the apron before grabbing the top rope in both hands and vaulting over it. The moment he lands he flips Hunt a double bird - instantly blurred out by the ever-watchful production truck - then signals to Warner that he’s ready to start. Brian Warner calls for both men to shake hands and appears rather surprised when they do so, albeit glaring at each other mistrustfully. With that chore out of the way Warner calls for the bell…

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

…and TORU leaps into action, firing kick after kick at Martin Hunt’s thighs! The former frat boy backs off but the bigger man follows him, sending blow after punishing blow into his legs. Hunt staggers and half-falls, grabbing the ropes to help support him and to get some respite, but TORU refuses to acknowledge the sanctity of the cables and grabs his opponent before Irish whipping him into the far cables. Hunt rebounds and ducks under TORU’s attempted clothesline, then bounces off the ropes again and leaps up to deliver the 100 Proof knee to the head that knocks the big man to the ground!

 

“TORU started off hard and fast here,” Pete calls, “but it looks like he may have underestimated the abilities of Martin Hunt!”

 

“I doubt it,” King snorts, “it’s virtually impossible to underestimate what isn’t there.”

 

Hunt is very impressed by his move and yells at the fans. They don’t seem quite as enthusiastic as he does, which is why even someone of Hunt’s limited intelligence is surprised when they suddenly pop into life. The reason they did so is because TORU Takahara, a tough man at the best of times and even more determined than usual in the aftermath of his defeat to JJ Johnson, has just kipped up off the ground. Hunt turns around, but simply finds a knee buried into his gut!

 

“Whoof!”

 

The impact of TORU’s knee causes the man from Boone to do unconvincing dog impressions, but TORU isn’t willing to wait around on this one. He immediately grabs Hunt’s head and slams another sickening knee strike into it, causing the former HGC Champion to slump backwards onto his ass with a glazed expression on his face. Takahara doesn’t help matters by then lashing out with his right boot and driving it into Hunt’s face, sending him sprawling backwards onto the canvas!

 

“T!K!O!”

 

“T!K!O!”

 

With Hunt on the mat and too stunned to move TORU heads for the nearest ringpost, stepping through the ropes and quickly climbing to the top. From there he wastes no time in leaping off, driving his right knee into Hunt’s chest upon landing!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“TORU Hammer!” Pete shouts as the breath is blasted from Martin Hunt’s body again. TORU himself doesn’t even bother to make a cover, instead hauling Hunt up and raising one arm into the air.

 

“I AM TORU!”

 

With that declaration the man from Saitama Prefecture tucks his head under Hunt’s left arm and hoists him into the air, then at the apex of the lift he suddenly spins around and uses his own left arm to drive his opponent down to the mat with an adapted chokeslam! Before the ring has even stopped shaking from the impact TORU covers Hunt and hooks the leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but the former frat boy kicks out just before Warner finds the third count! TORU looks disgusted at this unexpected resilience and grabs Hunt by the hair to drag him up to his feet, then scoops the breathless man from North Carolina up across his chest. Moments later the Japanese Hammer cuts a standing moonsault, landing on top of his opponent with the Blockbuster Slam! Warner drops to count the pin but TORU isn’t interested, instead stepping through the ropes again and heading to the top buckle once more. This time the massive Saitaman takes a moment to compose himself before leaping off and backflipping as he does so, before crashing down on Martin Hunt with the Shooting Star Press!

 

*BANG!*

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms as ‘Teethgrinder’ starts up again, “TOOORRRR-RRRRRRUUUUUUU… TAKA-HAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAA!!”

 

“Well, that was… emphatic,” LDP comments as TORU observes Lockdown rules by shaking the defeated Hunt’s hand - well, grabbing it and waving the arm a couple of times before throwing it back down to the mat - and then leaving the ring. “Do you suppose TORU is frustrated by his failure to win the Cold Front Classic, King?”

 

“If he isn’t, Card certainly is,” Suicide King replies. “Card’s always wanted to manage a World Champion, which is what I blame the failure of that whole Landon Maddix deal on; if only Card had been happy with keeping Landon as ICTV Champion none of that mess would have happened…”

 

“Well fans, we have to take a commercial break now,” Pete says, not eager to here any more of King’s whinging, “but don’t go away because we’ve got more fantastic action after the break!”

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Justice 0]

SWF Lockdown returns from commercial break as Number One Contender to the SWF Cruiserweight Championship, Zyon, stretches inside his locker room. Completely focused on his title match tonight against the Number One Contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Title, Zyon doesn’t notice the door open and his mentor and best friend; “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins enter the room.

 

“How are you feeling, kid?” questions the Hollywood Superstar, slightly startling the Unique Youth.

 

“Good. I’m ready for tonight.”

 

“Glad to hear that…you’ve worked on the counter to the full nelson, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. Sounds like you’re good to go.”

 

“Yeah, I am…Spike…thanks for helping me out, man.”

 

“It’s not problem. In fact, I’m going to be in your corner tonight.”

 

“Really?” says Zyon looks at his friend, “Well…why?”

 

“Because I have a HUGE announcement that will shock the wrestling world!”

 

“Wait…what?”

 

“Yeah…oh and to watch your back. But when the time is right, I will make the most shocking announcement in SWF history!”

 

“Ummm…Spike?”

 

“Don’t worry about it now, Zyon,” Spike shoos at the challenger, “You have to stretch while I go prepare. Get back to work! Chop chop!”

 

Spike quickly hustles out of the room, leaving Zyon staring at the door oblivious.

[Justice 0]

The camera suddenly opens up to show a nice house, set up for a nice quiet evening. The camera opens up to show Max King, in a black robe and red night-clothes underneath, sitting back on a couch.

 

"Hey there Lockdown viewers." King begins. "By the time that you watch this, the holiday season will be over. However, since we were all on break at the time, in honor of the season, Kelly and I prepared this little poem. It should help to explain things, we hope."

 

The camera pans over to another chair, where Kelly is sitting, wearing a sexy yet not-so revealing nightgown of red. She's holding a piece of paper in hand, and she begins reading off of it.

 

"Was mere weeks before Christmas, and did notice Max King

How bad Maddix was performing inside of the ring.

The once World Champion was on a losing streak

In fact, he was quickly looking like a pure geek.

So out of the goodness of his heart, The Icon did decide

He'd give Maddix's career a most interesting ride.

After the Pay Per View, he'd go for the gold

And toss out the feud with Landon, since it was old.

With that redneck Blank out of the way,

He'd call up Maddix to try and play.

A team so unique, that it made for big news

Why an enemy as a partner did Max King choose?

It was simple to see, if you looked really deep.

For the holiday season upon us did creep.

As a gift to his foe, Max King had this gift

A tag partner to King, Maddix's career gets a lift.

So to TKO, this is a warning call

You face Maddix and King, then you will fall.

The Gold will change hands, without too many tricks

It'll be a great year, this 2006.

And for the people watching this, a warning for the rest.

You mess with this new team, you'll mess with the best!"

 

King walks over to his manager and girlfriend, applauding her, before turning to the camera. "You see, as the poem said, I'm done with the feud with Maddix. I now want to play Good Samaritan, and help to improve Maddix's career. I mean, feuding with him did help mine, in a way. Besides...who better to have as a partner than someone you know SO well from feuding with him than someone you don't?"

 

Kelly smiles. "So Maddix, don't feel too bad about what has happened. 2005 may not been that great a year for you, but 2006 will be the beginning of a great year for BOTH of you."

 

King nods. "So Maddix...it may be a little bit late, but here's something I've been saving up for you: Happy Holidays from Kelly and me."

 

They smile, and wave to the camera as it fades out.

[Justice 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following matchup is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen-minute time limit, and will be contested under Family-Friendly rules!”

 

“Fifteen minutes?” groans King. “This could be a while.” He reaches under the table and pulls out a small hip flask, then pours some of the brown liquid into a glass and takes a shot.

 

“That’s not very Family-Friendly,” Pete says.

 

“What, the sharing thing?” He offers the flask to Pete, who merely wrinkles his nose.

 

“Making his way to the ring…”

 

"Night of Fire!"

 

The lights go out as the beat of the Niko composed theme begins to excite the crowd. Then....

 

"FIRE!"

 

*BOOM!*

 

Pillars of flames briefly light up the entrance before disappearing and revealing Ced Ordonez standing on the stage. He fires up the crowd as best as he can before jogging towards the ring.

 

“Hailing from Sacramento, California, and weighing in at 209 pounds… your friend and mine, CED ORDONEZ!!!”

 

Ced slides in and promptly makes his way to the far turnbuckle, giving the crowd an obligatory face pose. He hops down and gets in some quick leg stretches before the bell. As his music fades, the lights go out in the arena and strobe lights begin to flash.

 

EH!

 

BOO BOO!

 

A weird robot song starts to play, and Funyon holds off making his announcement until the curtain opens up and SWF road agent Chris Belcourt wheels a dolly down the ramp. Ghost Machine is strapped to it. As he approaches the ring, Belcourt unstraps Ghost Machine, and the robot climbs the steps into the ring. Belcourt, meanwhile, turns around and walks back to the locker room.

 

“His opponent…”

 

The music fades, and a small slip of paper slides out through the mouth hole in Ghost Machine’s mask. Funyon reaches for it, and then begins to read.

 

“Hailing from Parts Unknown, and weighing in at a hefty 231.1 pounds, the pride of BennerCorp’s research and development lab, ladies and gentlemen, this is GHOST MACHINE VERSION TWO POINT ZERO!”

 

The crowd boos, but the lights come back up, and referee Sexton Hardcastle calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

“This one is underway,” says Longdogger Pete, as Ordonez and Ghost Machine circle around each other. “I can’t help but notice that Ghost Machine version 2.0 is indeed much sleeker and more compact than the previous version.”

 

Ghost Machine reaches out, offering Ordonez his hand as mandated by the Family-Friendly Lockdown rules. Ordonez accepts, but Ghost Machine quickly pulls him through into a short-arm clothesline! Ordonez collapses, and the crowd immediately begins booing.

 

“Oh, come on!” cries Pete. “That’s a flagrant violation of the rules!”

 

“It is not,” says Suicide King indignantly. “As we’ve established numerous times before, the Family-Friendly rules say only that the competitors have to shake hands, not that shaking hands can’t lead to a material advantage for one of the competitors. He’s well within the letter of the rule.”

 

Ghost Machine puts the boots to Ordonez, even as referee Sexton Hardcastle tries to push him away. Ghost Machine stares at him through the mask, then shouts, “DOES NOT COMPUTE!” He pushes past Hardcastle, who merely shrugs and tries to stop the onslaught once again. Ordonez, however, is getting back to his feet as Machine makes his attack, so Hardcastle is unable to stop him.

 

Machine grabs Ced by the wrist and twists around, sending him into the near corner. He charges at Ordonez, but the SWF’s favorite referee ducks down and catches Ghost Machine with a lifting backdrop! He drops to his knees, sending Ghost Machine face-first into the turnbuckle, and the Ghost staggers backwards toward the center of the ring. Ordonez, trying to capitalize, shuffles toward him and hammers him with a superkick! He goes for the cover, and Hardcastle counts

 

ONE!

 

 

But Ghost Machine kicks out!

 

“Well,” laughs Pete, “it doesn’t look like Ghost Machine version 2.0 has been all that drastically improved. He could barely buy a win last time around, and now even Ced Ordonez is going to town on him.”

 

Ordonez gets to his feet before the robot and quickly grabs his wrist, then sends him to the ropes. As Ghost Machine bounces off the ropes, Ordonez drops down, taking him to the mat with a textbook drop toehold. The crowd applauds as Ordonez slides over, applying a side headlock to the stocky Machine!

 

“Oh, yeah, really going to town on him,” says King sarcastically. “Nothing more dominant than a side headlock.”

 

“It’s more dominance than Ghost Machine has shown tonight.”

 

“That’s Ghost Machine VERSION TWO POINT OH, Pete, and I’ll thank you to respect that.”

 

The thickly-built, fireplug-shaped Ghost Machine tries to counter out of the headlock by rolling Ordonez to his side. However, ever the smart veteran, the Bemani Cross Wizard splays his legs out to increase his leverage and block the rollup. With cool, calculated logic, Ghost Machine arches his back and slides his knees under his body. He begins to stand, even as Ordonez attempts to hug the mat. Ordonez realizes, perhaps too late, that he’s chosen the wrong course of action. As he gets pulled to his feet, he attempts to lunge for the ropes to grab them and keep from behing thrown. However, in full-on Crush, Kill, Destroy mode, Ghost Machine locks his sturdy arms around Ordonez’s waist and lifts him, even as he keeps the headlock on! With a precision back-arch, Ghost Machine throws Ordonez onto his head!

 

“BACKDROPPAH~!” screams Pete, as Ordonez lands solidly on the crown of his head and flips over onto his stomach. The crowd boos as Ghost Machine stiffly gets to his feet, and Sexton Hardcastle checks on Ordonez. “King, there’s something oddly familiar about Ghost Machine…”

 

“No there’s not,” King says dismissively. “Hey, look! A chicken!”

 

“Oh, cut that out,” Pete says, until the camera pans across the arena and settles on a man dressed in a chicken suit sitting and calmly enjoying the action.

 

“On behalf of the SWF,” King says, “we’d like to thank the Famous Chicken for traveling all the way from San Diego to watch an SWF show in our home town of Chicago.”

 

“I swear, King…”

 

“That’s against the Family-Friendly rules.”

 

Ghost Machine, however, is not distracted by the San Diego Chicken, and he stays focused with robotic tunnel vision on Ced Ordonez. He crouches down behind the grounded referee-cum-welcome-wagon and once again locks his arms around his waist. With superhuman, or semirobotic, strength, Ghost Machine hoists Ordonez off the mat and arches again, throwing him onto his shoulders with a German suplex! He holds the bridge, and Hardcastle counts

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

But Ordonez kicks out! Ghost Machine rolls through as Ordonez does the same. Ghost Machine gets to his feet quickly, while Ordonez is much more sluggish. However, before he can get into good position, Ordonez is victimized by Ghost Machine, who attacks him with a club to the neck and a side headlock.

 

“Uh huh,” says King learnedly. “This is in the version 2.0 documentation that BennerCorp sent with the new machine. In addition to sleekening the platform and adjusting the rates at which Ghost Machine has to be oiled, they also reprogrammed the artificial intelligence that handles the animatronic motion. It has a complex visual apparatus and a host of sensory input points, and it’s capable of imitating moves that other competitors perform on it. Frankly, it’s brilliant.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Pete sputters. “You’re telling me you think that’s really a robot?!”

 

“Well, frankly, Pete, I’m not sure. No one is. All I know is that if Ghost Machine 2.0 isn’t a robot, this is a really complicated hoax, and I can’t imagine what the advantage of running it would be.”

 

 

Verily, King’s logic is unimpeachable.

 

 

Ghost Machine wrenches the headlock as Ced tries to escape. He locks his hands around Ghost’s waist and tries to whip him to the ropes, but Ghost plants his feet and refuses to be whipped! Instead, he tightens his lock. Ordonez tries for Plan B, clamping down on the Machine’s arm and trying to spin out, but to no avail. Ghost Machine merely compensates by shifting his weight to the other side and readjusting the lock.

 

“Again, simply brilliant,” marvels King. “It’s not just programmed to imitate, it’s programmed to process and understand how to apply the holds even better than the person who showed it to him! BennerCorp has outdone itself this time.”

 

“What else has BennerCorp made?” asks Pete.

 

“Mostly diaphragms,” King shrugs. “Some sponges, too.”

 

“This is Family-Friendly Lockdown!” he protests.

 

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. Haven’t you ever washed dishes?!”

 

In one last grasp to try to escape the headlock, Ordonez ducks down and attempts the same counter that saved Ghost Machine – the backdrop driver. He can’t, however, quite get the leverage to lift the stocky, thickly-built Machine off the ground, and with that, Ghost flips him over a hip and goes for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

KICKOUT! Even as Ordonez writhes on the mat, the wind knocked out of him, he manages to get a shoulder up and avoid going down to his rookie adversary. However, the Machine stays on him, applying an arm bar and using it to yank Ordonez to his feet. He quickly pivots, taking the Wizard over his shoulder with a Japanese arm drag! The crowd pops as Ordonez hits the mat hard, but quickly turns against Ghost Machine as he stomps an enormous robot-stem onto Ced’s neck and stands on it!

 

“Oh, for Me’s sake,” Pete yells. “This is illegal!”

 

“That’s up to Hardcastle,” King replies. “Besides, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing is questionable.”

 

Hardcastle shouts at Ghost Machine to break his illegal chokehold, but the Machine shouts, “DOES NOT COMPUTE!” and continues standing as if nothing were going on. Sexton shouts at him again, trying to save the quickly bluening Ordonez, but Ghost Machine insists, “DOES NOT COMPUTE!” Finally, Hardcastle shoves him back to prevent the choke from continuing any longer and drops down to check on Ordonez. Ghost Machine, meanwhile, stands off to the side stiffly, as if awaiting further instruction.

 

“Look at that,” King says. “He’s so well-programmed that he’s even taking directions from the referee.”

 

“Right, after nearly killing Cedric. Some programming.”

 

As Hardcastle backs away, Ghost Machine propels itself several feet into the air by means of mechanically lifting itself via bending and then extending its legs, and leaps onto Ordonez with a double stomp! Ordonez curls up, crying out in pain, as Ghost Machine staggers forward and then comes to a stop before turning around. Ordonez stays curled up on the mat.

 

“This is a prime situation where the Family-Friendly rules are supposed to come into play,” Pete complains. “This is all just designed to hurt Ordonez.”

 

As if on cue, Ghost Machine bends down and locks his hands around Ced’s waist, this time in a reverse bodylock instead of a German suplex lock. The crowd immediately begins booing, but Ghost Machine ignores them with a steely robotic lack of ears. He lifts Ordonez up, and then with protractor-like precision turns him upside down at a perfect right-angle to the mat before slamming him down onto his head! Ordonez hits neck-first and then bounces off the mat before settling onto his back and shoulders.

 

Pete shouts, “That was an Ego Bu-“

 

“It’s called the Interface Bug,” King corrects him. “It’s right here in the notes.”

 

“But…”

 

“Interface Bug.”

 

Ghost Machine hooks a leg, looking expectantly at Hardcastle. Sexton counts

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

EH! BOO BOO!

 

Ghost Machine’s weird robot song starts up again as he stands up and Hardcastle escorts him to the center of the ring. He then grabs Ordonez and, trying to help him to his feet, pulls him to the center. He raises Ghost Machine’s arm and lifts Ordonez’s limp limb into the air, complying with the Family-Friendly rules.

 

“The winner of this match,” announces Funyon, “Ghost Machine version 2.0! Also a winner is Ced Ordonez!”

 

“And what a win by Ghost Machine version 2.0!” King says. “He’s showing incredible programming by BennerCorp.”

 

“Or, perhaps, skill by the man under the mask.”

 

“That’s not a mask, Pete. It’s a graphical user interface.”

 

Ghost Machine releases his arm from Hardcastle and begins to dance, doing (what else?) the robot to the high-tech music. As he dances jerkily, the program fades to commercial.

[Justice 0]

SWF Lockdown returns from commercial and opens on the locker room, where Ghost Machine 2.0 is leaned against a wall. His pink bodysuit covers him entirely, and mesh covers the mouth-hole of his mask, all except for a small slit.

 

SWF agent Chris Belcourt reads through the documentation that came with Ghost Machine.

 

POST-MATCH CARE

After Ghost Machine 2.0's contest, make sure to properly oil him and clean his filter. Enclosed with GhostMachine is a six-pack of Smithwick's crankcase oil and a pack of twenty Camel-brand filter cleaners.

 

Belcourt rolls his eyes as he lifts a bottle of Smithwick's ale to Ghost Machine's mouthhole. He tips the Machine's head back and empties the bottle into his mouth, and Ghost Machine guzzles the beer quickly. He begins making a buzzing sound, reminiscent of the human "mmmm."

 

After the bottle is empty, Belcourt opens the pack of Camel cigarettes. With a sigh, he places one of them in Ghost Machine's mouth, thenlifts a lighter. Ghost Machine automatically begins puffing, and as soon as the cigarette is lit, he reaches up and begins smoking it himself.

 

"THANK YOU," he says, sounding robotic.

 

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Belcourt mutters. "I don't need this crap," he says, as he turns and walks off-camera.

 

"DOES NOT COMPUTE," GhostMachine says, still savoring the filter-cleaner.

[Justice 0]

"OLÁ, MON COMPADRÉS!"

 

Striding into the Cucaracha Internacional locker room, Landon Maddix is in surprisingly jovial spirit apparantly. Considering he has a win-loss record rivalled only by Spike Jenkins, it's very surprising. Surprised (yeah, lost my theasaurus), Jay Hawke folds his arms and stares at Landon as he merrily picks up an empty plastic water bottle, shooting it b-ball style into a nearby trash can before whistling his way across the room.

 

"The wanderer returns! So, where've you been?" asks Hawke curiously, as Maddix sprawls across the sofa.

 

"Nowhere special. Here, there...you know."

 

Hawke eyes Landon suspiciously.

 

"We haven't seen you for days."

 

"And? If you must know, I've been working hard on a few things. For us as a whole, honest. Call it spontanious leadership. I've been down to SWF head offices and had a little rummage around...there was nobody there naturally, what with New Year's, but they pay as much on security as they do on their creative department so I had no real problem getting in. Anyway, turns out I have good news for you two. Have you guys ever read your contracts? Do you guys realise what we're missing out on in terms of bonuses? We're being screwed guys. We're entitled to shedloads of money we're not getting, all because we're too busy focusing endlessly on being better wrestlers."

 

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but doesn't being a better wrestler make you money in the wrestling business anyway?"

 

Ignoring his stable-mates protests, Maddix sits up and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper which he hands to The Dean Of Professional Wrestling. Hawke unfurls the paper and stares at it's contents, not knowing what to think.

 

"Merchandise prototypes?"

 

"Yeah! It's easy money and we're missing out, big time! We have a ready made brand name just waiting to mooched off, to be suckled off like the proverbial teat of the SWF money tree. Just think...if we can turn Cucaracha Internacional into a merchandising mogule, we can stick our name on anything and it will sell like hotcakes. We'd make a mint! Cucaracha Internacional t-shirts, Cucaracha Internacional action figures, Cucaracha Internacional soft drinks, Cucaracha Internacional birth control...i.e, a picture of you guys, shirtless. HAHA, I'm just kidding!"

 

"Yeah, yeah, great. Wait a minute...Cucaracha Internacional Sing The Hits!?!"

 

"What can I say, Novelty CDs sell. Look at that Kelly Clarkson."

 

"Oh, well, in that case it's a GREAT idea! I'm sure people will be queueing up and down the block to hear JJ's rendition of Silent Night."

 

"Silent Night!" splutters Maddix, wiping away a tear. "That's a good one..."

 

"Landon, you do realise that JJ's got an important Cruiserweight Title Match tonight against Zyon, right?"

 

Maddix glances to his left, to where JJ is pacing around the room shadow boxing. The look on JJ's contorted face draws a low "ooooh" from The Next Generation, as he turns back to a folded armed Hawke.

 

"And?"

 

"And? And!?! Incase you'd forgotten, you're supposed to be a wrestler!"

 

"Supposed to be? What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Nothing. It's just, it seems like ever since we got back from Ramadomination, we haven't seen anything of you. You're 'here'. You're 'there'. You've let your training regime go to pot. If you're going to become a serious technical wrestler, you have to stick to your regime religiously. A little team loyalty wouldn't go amiss either. Instead, you're off who knows where, trying to be some sort of marketing genius for us? What next? A singing career? An actor?"

 

"Well...now you mention it, I have just been signed up for the latest commercial for Pepsi Max, to be shown on SWF programmes in the near futur..."

 

"LANDON!" Hawke finally snaps, tossing away Landon's makeshift blueprints. "Listen, if you're having...personal problems, then you can talk to us about it."

 

"Personal problems?"

 

"You know. I mean, losing so many matches in such quick succession, I understand that it's got to be having a personal effect on you. I understand you feel you need to compensate because you're going through a rough period. But, you're on a slippery slope. One minute, you're testing the waters in commercials. The next, you're a bit-part character in Fox's latest doomed sitcom. Pretty soon, you ditch wrestling and you find other ventures and you think that it's better that you leave wrestling to pursue them, even if you're terrible at them. Remember how bad Alan Clark's CD bombed? Disney Folk Songs...what WAS he thinking? Look, Landon, the point is please, don't let a bad run turn you into a failed B-actor just because you're depressed."

 

"Depressed!?!"

 

Maddix bursts into some non-depressed laughter, standing up and wrapping an arm around Jay's shoulder.

 

"Oh yeah, that Scar Tissue promo really got me over in the SJL, didn't it? I don't DO depressed anymore Jay...and besides, I've never been happier!"

 

"Uhm, why exactly?"

 

...

 

"That's not important. What's important is, I'm going nowhere. Infact, while I was down at the offices, I slapped a request to be entered into the Clusterfuck again this year. So, just chill yourself a little. I'll get back to learning your Alpha Male Stretches and Super Laser Driver Bombs, don't you worry." Maddix smiles, to a groan off screen from JJ, as a shocked La Cucaracha glances at his watch. "OOP! Well, I've got to go. I've got a meeting with a guy about some stuffed cockroach dolls. Listen, I'm gonna have to re-schedule that sparring session you had planned for tommorrow, but I'll watch a tape of that Bokashi guy or something to make up for it. Gotta run...good luck tonight JJ, not that you even need that belt anymore now you're #1 Contender, but whatever. See ya guys!"

 

Maddix quickly rushes to the door and leaves, only to return seconds later to collect his prototype paper off the floor and take it with him. The door slams behind him, leaving Hawke to sigh. Like, in despair.

 

"I'm worried about him. He's acting...odd."

 

Chugging down a few mouthfuls of his bottled water, JJ turns to Hawke and raises an eyebrow.

 

"So, what's new?"

 

"No, I mean...odder."

 

...

 

"If that's even possible."

[Justice 0]

The fans at the United City Arena come to life as Lockdown returns. The camera pans through the rowdy throngs of fans with colorful signs, their favorite superstar’s merchandise, and desperately act out for two seconds of fame. Finally it rests in front of the announcer’s table where Longdogger Pete and Suicide King trivially bicker back and forth.

 

LDP notices the camera first and says, “Welcome back to Lockdown! We’re coming off the tail of two hot matches and we aren’t going to be slowing down.”

 

“Tonight we finally get to see Zyon put into his place as JJ Johnson will just crush the cocky little challenger for his Cruiserweight Title,” King says.

 

“Don’t be too sure about that King,” LDP says. “It’s a very interesting choice that Zyon chose to fight JJ Johnson. He very easily could’ve taken on our World Champion, ELM, for his title!”

 

“Please even kids with such inflated egos know when they’re outmatched,” King shrugs the comment off.

 

“But before we can get to tonight’s main event we have the recently returned Tim Dillon against Kevin Coyote. Coyote is still new to our federation, having one win over Ced Ordonez, and Dillon triumphed over Arch Griffon.” LDP continues.

 

”Triumphed? Who are you, Comet?” King insults his partner. “I have to admit that I have some interest in Kevin Coyote, he’s a kid that will be going somewhere. Dillon’s just coming back for a glory run ‘fore the booze catches up to him.”

 

LDP snorts and replies, “King, Coyote had an entourage jump Ced to weaken him before the match up. Meanwhile Tim Dillon has already shown leaps and bounds since his last run while still at the youthful age of 23.”

 

“Is that saying much considering his last run was as an overstuffed penguin with a freak posse?” King asks.

 

“…Petey the Penguin was Dillon?” LDP genuinely says in shock to his partner’s mumblings that Joseph Peters better not hear.

 

“Alive” by Disturbed begins in unison to the flashing white lights that signals Kevin Coyote’s arrival. There’s a brief moment before the SWF rookie steps out onto the entrance ramp as he chatters away into the phone, one finger plugging his other ear as if his own entrance music was an inconvenience. The jeers come pouring in as Coyote begins to walk down the aisle with his usual spiked blonde hair, blue jeans, a black SWF shirt, black sneakers, and an unbuttoned blue jean jacket.

 

“INTRODUCING FROM BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA… WEIGHING IN AT 225 POUNDS… KKEVVIINNN CCOOOYOOOTTEEEE!”

 

“How condescending,” LDP spits out and says, “I can’t believe he’s talking on the phone.”

 

“Don’t be bitter he has a life outside his work,” King shoots back.

 

“He is at work!”

 

Kevin blue eyes skim the arena to the disapproving fans as he smirks and then hangs up his cell phone. He saunters down the aisle and finally hits ringside where he just nods to the fan’s hatred and he sets his phone aside. Finally he hops onto the ring apron and steps into the ring as he stands in the center while Matthew Kivell reminds him of the “Family Friendly” rules.

 

“I doubt Kevin will have much regard towards our standards and rules but this is the first time either of these competitors will follow by our ‘Family Friendly’ plan where everyone’s a winner!” LDP says and oozes out false enthusiasm.

 

Suddenly bagpipes begin to blare and the fans switch from their jeers to a chorus of cheers. Dropkick Murphy’s “Barroom Hero” kicks up as cheap, green shamrock confetti rains from the rafters. Orange and green pyrotechnics explode to each side of the song truly begins to kick up and Tim Dillon leaps out into view. Tim Dillon has his arms up in a boxer’s defensive stance as he throws out facetious punches. The fans soak up every moment as he begins to walk down the aisle and pauses to give them a little jig.

 

“INTRODUCING… FROM LIMERICK, IRELAND… WEIGHING IN AT 219 POUNDS… TTTTIIIMMM DDDILLLOOONNNN!”

 

Dillon appears just as always, the shaggy blonde hair, fierce green eyes, and his confident smile, khaki cargoes with shamrocks painted on the sides, a black t-shirt, and his black skate shoes with shamrock patch above the toes. He stops the jig and begins to slap any extended hand as he hits ringside and slides in. Matthew quickly checks the two men while reminding them of the rules.

 

“Alright things are about ready to get underway. Tim Dillon has a good three inches or so on Coyote but is a few pounds lighter. We’re not quite sure how Kevin Coyote wrestles yet and that may be a problem for Dillon,” LDP says.

 

“The only preparation Dillon uses is that flask of whiskey,” King says with a smirk.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Tim Dillon reaches out his hand to a quick shake from Coyote who then gives him a disrespectful slap in the face. Dillon waits for Matthew Kivell to step out of the way and then he comes at his opponent with a hard clothesline. Coyote’s slammed against the canvas as he bounces to his feet and rushes towards Dillon only to be taken down by an armdrag. The two men roll right to their feet and Tim Dillon rushes forward and he gets sent flying with an armdrag. Again the two rush to their feet and as Dillon press an attack he gets nailed in the face with an elbow smash. But he responds with his own elbow smash at Coyote. The two begin to exchange elbow blows before Kevin Coyote delivers on that rattles the Irishman. He staggers back and Coyote nails him down with a spinning elbow to his face. Tim Dillon rolls right to his feet and this time delivers a right hand. He begins to use his previous boxing experience to control the exchange between the two. He doesn’t let up as his hands just go in a flurry of rights before getting stopped by a kick to the ribs. Coyote goes for another kick towards Dillon but it’s caught and he’s tugged into his opponent’s grasp. Tim Dillon gets a hold on the leg and uses his free arm to wrestle over the back of his neck before throwing him over in a Capture Suplex.

 

“Whoa! Dillon ends that brawl with an impressive Capture Suplex on Coyote,” LDP exclaims.

 

Kevin Coyote smacks against the canvas and quickly slides out to ringside in frustration. He has his hands on his hips as he stares up at Dillon who doesn’t even acknowledge him but instead is Irish jigging to the crowd’s delight.

 

“Now Dillon’s showing disrespect towards Coyote because he’s not even paying attention,” LDP says.

 

“He’s being reckless,” King snaps.

 

Kevin shakes his head as he rolls back into the ring and gets to his feet. Tim Dillon turns his attention towards him as he stands in center of the ring with an inviting hand gesture. He cautiously approaches Dillon who has his arms out signaling the test of strength. Coyote begins to hold out his arms in acceptance. They glance between their hands and each other as they are inches away from locking up. But Coyote instead throws out a kick to Dillon’s gut that catches him off guard. He then wraps an arm around the Irishman and hits another arm drag. The two get back to their feet and Dillon charges only to be taken down with the headlock takedown. Coyote keeps the hold but Tim Dillon manages to wrap his legs around Coyote’s neck with the headscissors. Kevin Coyote squirms out of it and rolls to his feet as Dillon’s already on his feet to press on. Kevin lunges for a grapple but instead gets taken down to the canvas by Dillon in a fireman’s carry. He tries to escape but Dillon goes over for a side headlock but instead he gets trapped in the headscissors by Coyote. Dillon quickly slips out of the hold. The two get back to their feet at a stalemate.

 

“These two are really beginning to feel each other out but Coyote is halting the action whenever Dillon takes over,” LDP says.

 

“It gives the control to pace the match,” King adds.

 

They lock up and struggle back and forth until Dillon sends a knee that has Coyote double over. Kevin smartly tries to tackle Dillon’s legs but the Irishman displays his speed as he just hops up and rolls off the back of his opponent. He wraps his arms around Coyote for the waistlock but immediately the rookie switches it. Dillon sends back an elbow and breaks free. He spins around only to be smacked by a kick to his face! He stumbles back and Coyote moves in. He locks in a side headlock and Coyote applies more pressure while wringing his head. But Dillon shoves Coyote off of him and sends him into the ropes. The Irishman runs after Kevin as he comes bouncing back and he throws a swift clothesline. But Coyote’s one step ahead and ducks underneath and runs into the ropes. Dillon whirls around to see his opponent rocketing back towards him and he responds with a leap frog. This time Kevin hits the ropes and ties his arms into them to stop but Dillon’s charging after him. As the Irishman approaches his opponent ducks and sends him over the ropes. Dillon quickly latches onto the top rope and lands on the ring apron as Kevin turns around to respond. He throws an elbow but Dillon leans back from it and he recoils with a hook thrown over the ropes that shakes Coyote. He then hops onto the top rope and leaps over to Kevin Coyote looking for the springboard hurricanrana.

 

“Dillon lands on the apron and he is taking flight,” LDP says.

 

Coyote catches Dillon to an uproar of boos from the fans as he bounces Dillon’s back off the ropes then uses the momentum to turn around and hit a powerbomb! He keeps a hold of the legs and leans his weight against Dillon for the cover-

 

ONE! “That was a brilliant reversal by Coyote,” King says.

 

TWO! Dillon kicks out and his opponent is already yanking his hair to bring him to his feet. He locks in a front facelock and grabs a handful of the shamrock cargoes then hits the snap suplex. He retains the hold and the two roll to their feet as he goes for another snap suplex but Dillon grapevines the leg. This time the Irishman hits the snap suplex and both men scramble to their feet. Again they both stand up and Dillon grunts in frustration of another stalemate. Coyote smirks as he leans in and gives another disrespectful slap on Tim. He jogs backwards in a circle with a smirk as the fans jeer and Kivell warns him again. Dillon charges towards him only to be taken down by a drop toehold. The rookie Coyote quickly moves to the front of Dillon and locks in a side headlock. But the Irishman slips his head out and uses one of his opponent’s arms to crank in a hammerlock. He then uses his free hand to grab the back of Kevin’s head to smack it against the canvas before getting up to his feet.

 

“Cheap move!” King cries out.

 

Coyote slowly gets back to his feet and Dillon comes forward but gets smacked with an elbow.

 

“He’s no Danny Williams but he does know when to throw those elbows,” LDP says.

 

He snatches Tim and whips him into the ropes. As Dillon comes back on the rebound he drops to the mat and forces Dillon to hop over. This time Tim comes charging at him and he hits his own leap frog. The stubborn Irishman bounces into the ropes again and heads towards Coyote who drops down to the mat with his legs curled up. He springs the trap as Dillon trips onto Coyote and is launched across the ring in a massive monkey flip. He smacks against the canvas but rolls right back to his feet while Kevin scrambles to his. Dillon plasters his opponent with a clothesline that sends him spinning in the air from the impact. The fans cheer loudly as the noise vibrates throughout the Windy City and Coyote just groans on the canvas. Dillon lifts his opponent to his feet and dazes him with a right hand. He reaches down for the front facelock but instead gets a knee to the gut. His opponent swiftly steps beside him, grapevines the leg, grabs out the arm and nails a Russian legsweep to stop Dillon’s assault. He stands up only to fall back down with an elbow drop to his opponent’s chest before he tries for another cover-

 

“He’s going for a pin,” LDP says.

 

ONE!

 

Dillon kicks out easily but Kevin snatches a handful of his hair. He stands up and brings Dillon up with him. He tries to whip Tim into the ropes but he’s reversed and sent whipping into the ropes instead. The Irishman begins to run towards Coyote who instead leaps into the air, snatching Dillon’s neck, twisting both of them to hit his signature neckbreaker. He hooks the leg again for the cover-

 

ONE!

 

TWO! Dillon kicks out and Kevin shows his frustration as he smacks the back of his hand into his palm for the three count as a protest to Kivell.

 

“Kevin Coyote’s way too cocky if he thinks that Tim Dillon will give up that easily,” LDP says.

 

“That’s true but I bet if he busted out that Coyote Takedown it’ll be over,” King replies.

 

Tim rolls away from his opponent but Coyote grabs his leg and drags him back into reach. The relentless rookie pushes Dillon towards the ropes as he locks in a front headlock and yanks Dillon to face the ropes as he hops onto the top rope-

 

“Looking for a tornado DDT,” King says.

 

“He’s just hitting any signature move almost in frustration to put Dillon down,” LDP says.

 

“Well he may miss a phone call,” King sarcastically replies.

 

He begins to kick around for the momentum swing to hit the tornado DDT but Dillon slips his head out of the hold and shoves Kevin away midair. He flies over the ropes and comes crashing down on the outside where he bounces on the thin pads before being stopped by the steel barricade. The fans go insane as Tim Dillon looks down almost in a surprised amusement of what he just did before he just busts out into a jig.

 

“Look at this, Dillon has no focus,” King says.

 

Coyote reaches up and grabs the guardrail. He tugs himself to his feet as he leans against the guardrail for support as he stares up in the ring in disbelief.

 

“I don’t think Kevin can comprehend that Dillon just got the best of him,” LDP laughs.

 

He shakes off the fall to the outside as he slides into the ring as Tim Dillon just stands tall in center of the ring looking confident as ever. He almost grimaces at Dillon’s spirit as the fans rally behind the Irishman as he begins to jig. Coyote surges forward and leaps into the air with a dropkick that smacks Dillon down. Kevin rolls right to his feet with Dillon following split second later. He charges and slides underneath Dillon’s legs, stands up, and quickly wraps an arm around Tim’s neck. He quickly falls back for the reverse DDT and instead of making the cover he rolls away. He gets to one knee and breaths before standing up, pointing over to the turnbuckle.

 

“He’s signaling for the turnbuckle and Dillon’s dead center in the ring!” LDP cries out.

 

He runs over and hops onto the second rope as he leaps out far as he can-

 

“He’s going for a legdrop,” LDP says.

 

Dillon looks up to see a descending Coyote and gets ready to roll away but it’s too late. He gets smacked with the legdrop and Kevin hooks his leg for a cover-

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

“Coyote may have it,” LDP says in disappointment.

 

Dillon gets the shoulder up to Kevin’s increasing frustration. He lifts Dillon up to his feet as he stands up and whips him into the turnbuckle. He charges after Dillon like a raging rhino as he swoops down making it obvious he’s ready to hit the spear. Tim Dillon staggers a step forward from the impact of the turnbuckle and sees the danger stampeding towards him. He grabs both of the ropes to the side and slings himself over onto the ring apron for salvation. Coyote comes crashing into the turnbuckle as the fans explode into cheers as he stumbles back and Dillon is perched on the top rope. The dazed Coyote turns to see Dillon and he uses it as his cue to leap out. He wraps an arm around his opponent’s neck and spins his legs to the side, taking him down with a springboard tornado DDT!

 

“Dillon just planted him with that springboard DDT!” LDP exclaims.

 

He rolls to his feet and hits a quick little jig before running over to the turnbuckle.

 

“Why is Dillon going to the air when he may be able to sneak out a pin fall?” LDP asks.

 

“Because he hasn’t done that much damage, it’s been a defensive game for Dillon,” King says with a condescending tone.

 

He springs onto the top turnbuckle and faces the crowd as he gives a smile with a little nod. He glances back to judge the distance and he bends his knees. He takes flight as he leaps into the air, throwing his weight backwards, and going for the moonsault. But he comes crashing down right onto Coyote’s knees as he bounces on the canvas in agony. His pugnacious spirit lets Dillon get to his feet as he painfully clutches his guts. Coyote gets to his feet with a cocky grin as he runs at Dillon before jumping at him. He wraps his legs around Dillon and twists while tugging him down with a headscissors takedown.

 

“Whenever you think Tim may have the edge Coyote finds a way to gain control,” LDP says. “He definitely has a bright future ahead of him and a win against Dillon may boost his status quickly.”

 

But Dillon rolls up to his feet but gets ambushed by Coyote. He sends a spinning wheel kick that smacks the Irishman back down to the canvas with a sickening thud. The jeers come pouring in as Kevin just lays a boot over Tim’s chest for the cover-

 

ONE! Dillon swats it away and rolls right to his feet. Kevin Coyote looks for another spinning wheel kick but the Irishman ducks underneath it and responds with a huge European Uppercut. His opponent staggers backwards as Tim Dillon goes to grab Coyote but instead gets a dropkick right in the face!

 

“Oh! A vicious dropkick right to the face was a total shock to Dillon and that one will cause damage,” LDP says.

 

“’Atta’ boy,” King responds.

 

Dillon flops into center of the ring but begins to stir as Kevin sprints next to him. He hops over Tim Dillon and runs towards the ropes-

 

“Full Moon Assault! He’s trying for his finisher that springboard moonsault!” LDP screams.

 

“Dillon’s dead,” King gleefully says.

 

The Irishman rolls to his feet and sees Coyote ready to spring onto the ropes. He doesn’t have much time to react but he simply runs after him. Kevin Coyote uses the ropes as a launch pad as he flips his body backwards-

 

“He just moonsault right into Dillon’s grasp!” LDP yells.

 

“Oh come on!” King snaps in frustration.

 

Coyote is slung against Dillon’s shoulder as he lets him fall forward to his feet but he quickly wraps an arm around his neck. With Kevin Coyote standing behind Dillon, back arched, staring at the lights, everybody knows what’s coming as the fans explode into cheers. Tim Dillon grabs a handful of jeans and lifts him into the air at a dangerous, near vertical angle, before leaping down for the drop! Coyote’s whole body seems to crunch and compact like a accordion as Dillon lets him fall flat against the canvas so he can cover-

 

“He just jumped on that Blood and Whiskey! It’s over!” LDP cries out.

 

“ONE!” The fans chant.

 

“Come on Coyote,” King says.

 

 

 

 

“TWO!” The cheers grow louder.

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!” “Dillon’s got the win!” LDP yells.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Barroom Heroes” kicks up and the confetti pours as the cheers drown out Funyon’s announcement. Dillon picks up Kevin as Kivell walks over and raises both arms in the Lockdown tradition. Soon as Matthew lets go of Coyote’s arm he collapses to the canvas again and Dillon just responds with a jig.

 

“Tim Dillon is victorious and may be a hot streak for his return,” LDP says. “But don’t you dare go away.”

 

-Starwipe~!

[Justice 0]

“Welcome back to Lockdown” Pete says as the Monkees’ “Hey, hey we’re the Monkees” starts to play over the PA system.

 

“And welcome back Bruce Blank, after some absence from Lockdown he has gotten a new chance to show his family friendly side” The Suicide King adds with a shudder as he says the words “Family Friendly”

 

Funyon’s massive frame steps over the top rope into the ring to introduce the participants for the penultimate match of the evening.

 

“Introducing first coming down the aisle “Monkey Man” MAAAAAAAAAAAAT MYEEEEEEERRRSSS!!!”

 

After a few moments Matt Myers steps through the curtains wearing a monkey costume with mask and a banana in hand looking like he’d rather be somewhere else tonight, anywhere else really.

 

“What the blue fuck is that?” The Suicide King blurts out as he sees Matt Myers in the monkey suit.

 

“KING! Family Friendly!!” Pete yells at him.

 

“Erm… I think we just picked up an audio feed from a radio or something… yeah Howard Stern or something… that’s it” Suicide King says in a feeble attempt to cover up while mentally waving goodbye to the 500 dollars he’ll have to pay for breaking the rules.

 

“Monkey Man” Matt Myers isn’t happy with the gimmick that the creative committee decided to give him this week, but he figures it’s better than being unemployed and does his best to act like a monkey as he passes the kids in the front row.

 

“And his opponent” Funyon booms as “Don’t ask me no questions” begins to play. “From the Dirty Tornado Trailer park – this is BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!”

 

The crowd begins to boo, but since it’s a family friendly show they keep the chants clean, but hostile. Bruce steps out into the arena wearing clean jeans, his ever present cowboy hat and a white shirt with the words “Lockdown, fun for everyone”

 

“Did… did he shave?” Pete asks as Bruce walks towards the ring with a big smile on his face, trying his best to appear friendly and nice to everyone.

 

“Anything for the kids – it’s obvious Bruce loves kids and just wants to entertain them” Suicide King says as his nose grows longer by the second.

 

With Matt already in the ring Bruce casually strolls up the ring steps and stops on the apron to carefully place his hat on the top of the ring post before stepping through the ropes and into the ring. Matt stands in his corner and munches away on a banana with his monkey mask pushed back while Bruce grabs the microphone from Funyon.

 

“Well How’dy! I just want to say that it’s a great honor to be here in Chicago – land of the great wind” Bruce says with a smirk “Now I know gosh darn well that you couldn’t handle an Ultraviolent title match so I’m here to do some nice headlocks and maybe a drop toe hold for all ya’ll – stop me if I get too brutal for you guys”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“Now come on!! They boo Bruce and he just wants to give them a nice clean match within the rules. What’s wrong with the people of Chicago?” King asks as the fans boo Bruce.

 

“Bruce better be on his very best behavior, he’s being watched very closely tonight” Longdogger Pete says making references to this being Bruce’s opportunity to return to Lockdown on a permanent basis.

 

Bruce quickly holds his hand out for the pre-match handshake, of course Matt is preoccupied with acting like a monkey to entertain the kids at ringside, they especially like it when he scratches his BUTT. Once referee Izzy Slappowitch directs Matt’s attention towards the handshake Bruce is offering Matt can’t help but jump around and make monkey sounds while scratching his BUTT some more, then he sniffs the finger he just used and pretends to pass out.

 

“Now that’s what I call family friendly entertainment” Pete says desperately trying to sell the fun of the Family Friendly rules.

 

“Yeah a guy scratching his smelly a…. and hairy behind” King says disgusted at the display in the ring, he craves hard hitting matches and out of control brawls whenever he commentates Lockdown.

 

Bruce just stands there and patiently waits with a big fake smile on his face as Matt Myers finally gets back up after “passing out” from smelling his own poop fingers. After much clowning around Matt “Monkey Man” Myers finally puts his hand out and shakes Bruce’s hand a few times.

 

“Awwww isn’t that… “ Pete begins as he’s impressed by Bruce playing nice tonight

 

But Pete is cut off mid sentiment as Bruce grips Matt’s hand tight and whips him towards one of the corners with such force that Myers actually leaves his feet for the last few steps and flies through the air slamming into the turnbuckles at high speed.

 

*BLAM!!*

 

“Well he shook his hand, it’s go time” King points out as Bruce quickly grabs Myers’ by the hand again and whips him across the ring.

 

*BLAM!*

 

This time he runs after Myers and nails the smaller man in the monkey suit with a super stiff lariat that sandwiches his opponent in the corner.

 

*THUD!!*

 

“Now we’re talking! The rules don’t eliminate hard hitting action!!” King says as Bruce tears Matt’s monkey suit open at the chest and then quickly fires off a couple of clubbing forearms to Matt’s unprotected chest.

 

Bruce quickly grabs his much lighter opponent around the throat and by the monkey suit and hoists him up over his head in a gorilla press position. After pumping his arms a few times to show off his awesome power he gets a maniacal look in his eyes, a wicket smile on his face.

 

“Erm…” Pete says, not liking the look of this.

 

Before Pete can put a finger on what he doesn’t like Bruce takes two steps towards the ring ropes and then heaves the man dressed in a monkey suit over the top rope dropping him back first onto the floor in a move that totally stuns the crowd.

 

…

 

For a second

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

 

“What in the world? That can’t be within the rules!” Pete says outraged that Bruce would do something so blatantly outside the rules.

 

“I’d say it’s a shades of grey issue” King says with a stifled laugh.

 

Izzy Slappowitch immediately tries to step in front of Bruce as the big man gets ready to leave the ring and jump to the floor. Izzy yells at him about how it’s against the rules and tells him to back off. Bruce just smiles as he raises his arms in the air in a “I’m not doing anything” kind of gesture before he lands a big cowboy boot to the side of Izzy’s head.

 

“WHAT??” Pete says as he jumps 10 feet in the air

 

The boot upside the head knocks the referee out of the ring as the crowd becomes irate at Bruce’s blatant cheating, not that the big man seems to care though as he casually steps through the ropes and then jumps down onto the floor where Myers is laying still writing in pain. Bruce quickly picks up the helpless opponent and then tosses him against the ring steps

 

*BONG!!*

 

The impact knocks the steps loose as Myer’s knees and hip slam into them unprotected.

 

“How can this match go on?” Pete asks knowing damn well that Bruce has already broken half of the Family Friendly rules and is probably looking to break all of them in the next minute or so.

 

“The referee didn’t ask for the bell, the match isn’t over” Suicide King points out.

 

“HE’S OUT COLD!!” Pete fires back at the top of his lungs.

 

Bruce grabs Matt Myers by the hair and runs him face first into the ringpost

 

*THUD!!*

 

Bruce just smiles as Myers is on rubber leg street from the beating he’s taken so far. Then Bruce slams Myers against the ring post again busting him open over the right eye from the flesh on metal collision.

 

“That’s it!! Bruce is banned forever! He’s out of here” Pete says whishing that his word was law.

 

“Oh don’t be a spoil sport, look at the fans, look how fired up there are. A headlock or an armbar doesn’t draw this kind of reaction from the crowd” Suicide King says as he draws attention to the fan reactions as Bruce keeps punching Matt Myers in the face.

 

“MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!!”

 

A quick toss of a nearly unconscious Matt Myers later and the action returns to the ring, but only after Bruce picks up the bottom half of the ring steps and throws them into the ring. Bruce steps into the ring and surveys his handy-work so far, then he heads over to where his cowboy hat is hanging and grabs it.

 

“Is he leaving?” King asks as Bruce picks up his cowboy hat

 

“He may be leaving the federation entirely if he doesn’t stop soon!” Pete says as they both watch Bruce pull something from inside his cowboy hat.

 

“What is that??”

 

Bruce holds up a rolled up piece of barbwire that he had stored inside his hat and just grins at the crowd reaction. After making sure Matt is still on the ground Bruce quickly wraps the strand of barbwire around the top turnbuckle in one of the corners. Then he picks up Matt and pulls the monkey suit clean off him leaving Myers in his wrestling trunks and boots and nothing else.

 

“This has to stop!! Come on where is security!!” Pete complains as Bruce has free reign in the ring totally breaking all rules of Lockdown.

 

“No bell, no reason to help” King explains.

 

After pulling Matt Myers back to his feet Bruce quickly presses the already bloodied and beaten ex-monkey man over his head and then drops him chest first onto the barbwire cutting Matt’s skin in several places drawing a lot of blood.

 

“I… oh my god” Pete says obviously trying to cope with the brutality Bruce is inflicting on Matt Myers.

 

“Now we’re talking! Come on Bruce the ref doesn’t seem to have a problem with it!!” King yells to encourage Bruce to keep it up.

 

Not one to disappoint the Suicide King Bruce picks up Myers and then slams him down hard with the upper part of his body hitting the metal steps as the lower part snaps down and hits the canvas instead in a very painful looking angle.

 

“MAKE IT STOP!!”

 

Bruce stands over his fallen and broken opponent, Myers’ blood staining his previously pristine white shirt and a very, very disturbing look in his eyes. Then he slowly turns towards the barbwire wrapped turnbuckle and looks at it, then he chuckles before he approaches the turnbuckle.

 

“MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!!”

 

The sense of horror and dread increases in the crowd as Bruce unwraps top turnbuckle and then holds the strand of barbwire in his hand. The fans look on in horror as Bruce grabs one end of the strand and begins to wrap the barbwire around his taped up fist effectively turning the barbwire into a lethal looking set of brass knuckles.

 

“I bet you didn’t think we’d see this tonight did’ya Pete?” King asks his co-commentator, Pete has no reply only a horrified silence which only adds to the enjoyment of the “match” for The Suicide King.

 

The Trailerpark Messiah raises his clenched fist showing off the barbwire wrapped around his heavily taped fist as he points at Matt Myers with his other hand. Since Matt isn’t moving Bruce has to drag Myers’ lifeless body back to a vertical position and leans him up against the turnbuckles. Then he quickly winds up like he was a major league pitcher ready to fire off a fastball and then swings his “Fist of Doom” straight at Matt Myers’ jaw

 

*POW!!*

 

“HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!”

 

The impact knocks Matt back down and the barbwire cuts him even further open drenching Bruce’s fist and the barbwire in a deep crimson liquid. Bruce quickly mouths “One more” as parents try to shield the eyes of the kids in the audience, hoping to keep them from seeing any more of Bruce’s brutality.

 

“MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!!”

 

Bruce tries to drag Matt Myers back to his feet but the helpless opponent is so out of it that he can’s stand up straight even when leaned against the turnbuckles. To show that he’s always thinking when it comes to violence and bloodshed Bruce quickly drapes Matt’s arms over the top rope and then pulls the 2nd rope up to trap the helpless Matt in the ropes.

 

“Alright, alright Bruce I think you need to tone it down now” King says, worrying that Blank may just go a step too far tonight.

 

“Tone it down? TONE IT DOWN?? HE SHOULD BE DRAGGED OUT OF HERE IN A STRAIGHTJACKET!!” Pete yells out in outrage making no bones about what he thinks.

 

With one hand on Matt’s hair Bruce cocks his fist once more and quickly fires off a succession of barbwire assisted blows to his helpless opponent’s chest and shoulder turning Matt’s pale white skin a sickening deep red. After the 3rd blow Bruce releases Matt from his steel cable restraints and the young man flops to the floor totally out cold.

 

* DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*

 

Izzy Slappowitch has finally woken up after being kicked in the head and quickly calls for the bell as Bruce brutalizes Matt Myers. The bell ringing serves only one purpose, it distracts Bruce from Matt Myers and towards Izzy Slappowitch instead. Bruce quickly lets go of his opponent/victim and steps through the ropes yelling obscenities at the referee. The moment Bruce takes a step towards the man in black and white Izzy Slappowitch quickly runs off towards the back with Bruce following behind him as he drips blood on the ground

 

Matt Myers’ blood not Bruce’s own blood

 

At this point in time the morons in the production booth finally wake up and cut to a commercial break.

 

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

 

Bruce bursts into Joseph Peters office right after the commercial break, he has not bothered to change from his ”match” yet, the blood on his previously white t-shirt wasn’t his nor was most of the crimson that dripped from Bruce’s barbwire wrapped right hand but it seems that the big man hasn’t bothered to wipe it off on the way to Peters’ office.

 

“Now how is that for a ma…”

 

Bruce stops mid sentence and the arrogant smirk on his face is replaced with a look of anger and annoyance.

 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Bruce says as he points to Akira Kaibatsu who’s flanked by Mr. Kobe.

 

“They’re here on official busin…” is all a surprised and outraged Joseph Peters can say before Bruce cuts him off.

 

“I sent that little boy back to Chinatown!” Bruce states very firmly, apparently his actions on Lockdown quickly took a back seat to his hatred for Akira Kaibatsu the moment he laid eyes on the masked superstar.

 

“You did not” Akira says and once Mr. Kobe translates it Bruce’s mood turns from bad to worse.

 

“WHAT? I left that boy for dead in Saudi A-rabia” Bruce says irate at anyone suggesting that he was misrepresenting the truth.

 

“Well no Bruce – it was a draw, a No Contest because you were both knocked out” Joseph Peters finally got over the shock and over the anger of Bruce’s earlier actions and decided to set the record straight.

 

“It doesn’t matter cause I’ve put him down 3 times before that and you know it, I totally dominated him… Totally!” Bruce claims with a grin

 

“A-hem”

 

…

 

Bruce just stares at Mr. Kobe as the manager once again decides to interject the truth into Bruce’s world.

 

“Actually … you have never pinned Akira-San. You pinned Jimmy the Doom in the 4 way match, Max King pinned Spike to win the tag match and placing a table under Akira isn’t exactly pinning him” Mr. Kobe quite rightly recollects.

 

Bruce just stands there with his mouth open, obviously pissed but stuck for a reply until a reply finally hits him

 

“A win is a win” and then he just shrugs “Besides I could beat him 3 more times easily” Bruce casually adds.

 

“I think that’s a splendid idea” Joseph Peters chips in, he eyes an opening to stick it to Bruce and he is damn well taking it. “How about a best of 5 Ultraviolent contest? For the title of course”

 

Akira quickly nods and agrees while Bruce thinks about it

 

“Why should I put the title on the line? He just had a title shot”

 

“Yes but with no conclusive winner, no winner found at all really… it could easily lead me to think that we need to settle the controversy with a vaca…” Peters starts with the threat of stripping Bruce of the title hanging in the air

 

“Alright, alright I’ll agree to the damn match!” Bruce relinquishes.

 

“Excellent – I trust this shall be most harmful for you Bruce… I mean most entertaining” Peters says with a grin, it was not a slip of the tongue, it was Joseph Peters’ fondest wish right now after the shit he’s put him through.

 

“I’ll pick the stipulations then! Champions prerogative”

 

“I protest” Mr. Kobe says but is cut off before he can go on

 

“No… no you like to play games Bruce, let’s play a Deadly Game then. Each of you will submit 5 stipulations and then we’ll let the wheel decide each match.” Peters says as his mind is working overtime on a scheme to hopefully get Bruce out of the SWF for a while.

 

“At the start of each show you spin the wheel and see who will survive this Deadly Game” Peters says

 

“Three in a row! Three in a row cause you’ll go down like a bomb over Hiroshima” are Bruce’s parting words as the Ultraviolent champion storms off.

 

“Thank you Mr. Peters” Mr. Kobe says as both he and Akira bows.

 

“Don’t thank me, I’m not sure I did you a favor” Peters says as he sits back in his chair and reaches for a cold drink – He knows he has to do damage control after Bruce’s actions once again,

 

“How do I make it stop”

 

Fade to black

Edited January 5, 2006 by Justice

[Justice 0]

-----SWF cameras fade in to a large plywood pinwheel, yet to be labeled. Further zooming out we see Joseph Peters, holding a baseball hat out for Akira Kaibatsu and Bruce Blank. Akira dumps in 10 neatly stacked pieces of paper, and turns to Blank. Blank rummages through his pocket, and pulls out a wad of what seems to be ripped paper towels from the bathroom.

 

“Thank you gentleman. Now, Blank. Pull a paper out of the hat.” Peters announces

 

Bruce begins to reach in, but the commissioner cuts him off

 

“Ah! No peeking, sir”

 

Bruce closes his eyes, and pulls a piece of paper out. Written in black ink, it’s clearly Akira’s.

 

“A Sendai thumbtacks match?” Blank raises his eyebrows as he reads. “What’s the difference between any other thumbtack match?” Kobe begins to explain, but Blank doesn’t want to hear it, and motions for Peters to go on.

 

Peters grabs a safety pin from his desk, and pins it to the top section of the wheel.

 

Peters instructs Kobe to translate to Akira, of course.

 

“Tell him to pick two”

 

“Why does he get two?” Blank shouts

 

“There’s an order. You get two next time.” Peters tries to stay calm, but inside he’s loving making Bruce angry.

 

“Bachi ni ronbun”

 

Akira reaches in, and grabs 2 of the papers. One is written on scratchy messy handwriting, Blank’s, and the other is another one of Akira’s. Kaibatsu passes the paper to Kobe to read aloud.

 

“Light tubes match, Supermarket Deathmatch”

 

“Nooow Blank, now you can pick two”

 

Bruce makes a somewhat of a “hmmph” sound, and reaches in. The champion wrote both. Peters skips the read aloud, and just posts them on the wheel.

 

Clockwork Orange House of Fun, Stairway 2 Hell

 

“Now, both of you pick 2 more. I’ll pick the final one”

 

Akira and Bruce reach in at the same time, creating an awkward moment, but it is soon forgotten after they read their matches. Or rather Blank reading his, and Kobe reading his to Akira

 

“Barbed Wire ropes”

 

“Bunkhouse match!”

 

“Open Arena?”

 

“Agony of Defeat? The hell is that?”

 

“I put that one in myself” Peters says, “I’ll explain if we get there. Now my turn to draw one”

 

Joseph Peters takes, his, and has a semi gasp. He puts the card down, it was written by Akira. He posts his card on the wheel. It reads: Japanese Deathmatch.

 

Speeding things up, Peters has that thing, where you don’t really say words, but you make strange noises, and that somehow gets the point across to what you’re saying. He spins the wheel.

 

“Nowhammynowhammynowhammynowhammy”

 

The wheel spins; crossing all of the options, at Barbed Wire Ropes It begins to slow down . . . Bunk House . . . . . . . . . Open Arena . . . . . . . . . . . . . Agony of Defeat . . . . . . . . . . . . Japanese Deathmatch

 

“Nowhammynowhammynowhammynowhammy”

 

. . . . . . . . . . . Light tubes.

 

“Alright then, we’ll begin the best of 5 with a Light tubes match.”

--

[Justice 0]

The United Center is buzzing, much like a bumblebee or a set of hair clippers, as we come back from commercial, arriving once more at the family-friendly goodness some refer to as Lockdown. The sellout Chicago crowd has been thoroughly exhausted by all of the exciting action. So exhausted, in fact, that one would not be far off-base to guess that they couldn’t be more excited.

 

And then the Smarktron bursts into life flashing up two individuals, and the ones that guessed the crowd couldn’t be any more excited is immediately proven wrong.

 

On the left is a scrawny 21-year-old, with stringy wet-through brown hair that, despite it’s best effort, is powerless in it’s attempt to hide the shining green eyes of the youth. The Unique Youth, that is. Last time he was on this screen, he was more than a little cocky; he had the number of his opponent, after all, and victory was all but assured. This time, he’s coming off of a stinging defeat in their last contest. Both literally and figuratively.

 

”THE UNIQUE YOUTH” ZYON

 

“YYEEEEAAAAAHHHH!!!”

 

On the right, however, is a well-muscled 22-year-old, with slightly curly black hair that knows better than to get anywhere near the piercing hazel eyes of it’s owner. With tattoos coating his arms, a full goatee surrounding his mouth along with the slightest traces of full-beard stubble, and the 10 pounds of gold that he’s had a stranglehold on since August covering his shoulder, he’s more than a little intimidating. His scowl doesn’t exactly help matters.

 

JJ JOHNSON

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION

 

“BOOOOOO!!”

 

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

 

 

The two figures freeze, grinning and glaring out over the United Center, the United Center that’s packed to the brim with 16,000+ fans. And two announcers.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is main event time once again here on Lockdown,” booms Longdogger Pete, more than a little enthusiastic about the upcoming contest, “and it’s possibly the highest-scale rematch we could put on the air!”

 

“Other than something featuring, you know, that Magnifico guy,” says King, noticeably annoyed. “I hear he’s pretty high-scale.”

 

“Touche,” admits Pete. “But regardless, this is one he...er, one dandy of a matchup. Zyon received this rematch by way of his being one of the hottest superstars in the fed, and by defeating Manson and Candace Okimura-”

 

“That’s prestige, right there,” says King, his eyes still rolling.

 

“-in a triple-threat match to earn a contract for any match he wanted,” continues Pete, undeterred by King’s smart mouth, “including a shot at El Luchadore Magnifico, SWF World Heavyweight Champion. Zyon gave that up, however, for a second chance at JJ Johnson.”

 

“Which is very, very stupid, Pete,” says King, actually contributing to the conversation. “Johnson is on a MONSTER winning streak - 7 wins - that includes victories over TORU Takahara, ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins, Landon Maddix, and yes, Zyon.”

 

“Well, King. You know how the saying goes; if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again,” insists Pete as the lights begin to dim, the crowd noise level becoming inversely proportional to the amount of visibility in the arena.

 

“Not where I come from,” begins King, rushing to get his say in before the music starts. “There, it’s ‘if at first you don’t succeed, stop trying so the guy doesn’t try to cripple you again’. Works very well.”

 

 

”I’m born.”

 

 

“YYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!”

 

 

The crowd EXPLODES, as has become tradition, as the theme of the challenger hits, thoroughly drowning out the remaining two phrases that form the opening of Incubus’ “Vitamin”. Those at home are simply forced to read the Smarktron, one that swiftly changes to various highlights from Zyon’s matches. Nobody pays attention for long, however, as the curtain immediately flies open, courtesy of the Unique Youth, as the man from neighboring Indiana breaks a bit of tradition by traversing the 35 yards to the ring at a dead sprint! With a flying leap, Zyon springs up to the apron, where he glances out over the screaming crowd before ducking low and hoisting himself up and over the top rope, flipping into the ring!

 

“Zyon apparently eager to get slain. Brutally, hopelessly slain,” sighs King.

 

“According to my notes, King, Zyon has decided to start wrestling every match as if it’s his last. Surely, this will result in some amazing action,” notes the Longdogger.

 

“Well, he does have a point,” admits the Heartbreaker, “this match may very well be his last.”

 

Pete groans at King’s arrogance - you’d think he’d be used to it by now - before turning back to his notes, beginning to read through them a little further...

 

 

...when the lights drop out.

 

 

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

 

Murder is editted out of the theme once more as the lights surrounding the Smarktron, as well as the Smarktron itself, snap into animation, two grinding notes blaring over the arena as red-and-white lights blind anyone unfortunate enough to be looking in that direction. Various clips of Johnson’s matches flash by; cruising through the air with a diving headbutt on Scott Pretzler, pulverizing TORU Takahara with a cheekbone-shattering roaring elbow, and ominously, taking Zyon off of the top rope to the canvas below with an obscenely dangerous Dragon Suplex. Zyon scowls and attempts to look defiant as smoke begins billowing from the entranceway; however, he also instinctively grabs at his neck. There are a few more clips as the lights fade up to a dim red, the ring-post Exploder on Zyon noticeably absent...

 

 

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

 

 

...and in it’s place, the low growl of Burton C. Bell, “Scapegoat” kicking into high gear as the lights begin flashing not so seizure-inducingly. Those same lights pick up a defiant figure striding through the clouds, one that sure as hell isn’t going to be sprinting anywhere. And so, with light reflecting off of his shiny black hair and his shiny gold shoulder, Johnson emerges from the cloud. As usual, his eyes are locked on his opponent. As usual, he is sneering.

 

“BOOOOOOOO!!”

 

And as usual, the jeers of the crowd accompany him as he walks, swiftly, with no wasted motion, to the ring. His face emotionless as he reaches the steps, it is the work of two strides to get him to the apron, and one step to get him in the ring, where he bypasses his second-rope shenanigans to simply wait in the corner. Zyon takes a stride towards the champion, but for once, Johnson has no care for anything Zyon does. He got what he wanted last time.

 

Realizing he’s not going to get a rise out of the champion, the Unique Youth trudges back to his corner, where he stands as Funyon slides his massive frame into the ring in order to make the usual announcement.

 

“Llllllllladies and gentlemen the following contest is your MAIN EVENT, scheduled for ONE FALL UNDER CRUISERWEIGHT RULES, and it is for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Cruiserweight Championship!”

 

“YEEEAAAAAHH!!”

 

 

“Introducing first, on my right, the challenger. In the bloo-” Funyon stops himself, knowing he can’t say ‘blood’ on Lockdown, even to describe a shirt “-in the CRIMSON shirt, and the black jeans. He stands five feet, eleven inches tall, and weighs in tonight at 200 pounds...from ELKHART, INDIANA...ZZZZYYYYYYYYOOOONNNN!!!!”

 

 

The crowd erupts once more, and Funyon, as always, waits patiently before beginning his alternate introduction as Zyon throws his arms into the air garnering even more of a reaction, as if challenging Johnson. Johnson, for his part, doesn’t much look like he cares.

 

“And his opponent, on my left. In the red tights with the white-with-black-trim design, he stands tonight at six feet, one inch tall, and weighs in, as always at 219 pounds! From Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he is YOUR 142-day reigning AND DEFENDING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION...J! J! JOHNSON!”

 

“BOOOOOOO!”

 

Johnson ignores the crowd once more, ripping his jacket off and tossing that to the outside before taking his belt, folding it neatly, and handing it to referee Blaine Kalem. The former Cutthroat holds the belt high, showing it to all sides of the arena where 6 NBA Championships were won in 8 years, before tossing it to David Blazenwing - who clumsily drops it; Johnson scowls - and signaling for the bell.

 

DING DING DING!

 

Johnson takes a few steps forward, offering his hand out for a test of strength. Zyon is understandably hesitant, but finally extends his hand out and grips fingers with the Canadian...

 

 

...who spins under the outstretched arm and delivers a vicious spin kick to the gut of the Unique Youth! The Elkhartian is immediately doubled over by the force of the blow, and Johnson wastes no time in stepping over his outstretched arm before rolling forward, carrying Zyon up and over...AND INTO A JUJI-GATAME!!

 

“JUJI-GATAME!!” shrieks the Heartbreaker as the Chicago crowd groans collectively, Johnson successfully straightening out the arm of the challenger, sending searing pain coursing down to his shoulder, “Johnson used this to make TORU tap at Ramadomination! How could somebody like ZYON escape?”

 

By sticking his foot on the ropes, that’s how. And that’s exactly what he does, extending his leg and draping his near foot over the bottom strand. Kalem holds his breath, waiting to see if Johnson pulls a Ramadomination, but the Canadian breaks the hold immediately, rolling to his feet and crouching, stalking the challenger.

 

“Johnson misjudged his placement in the ring there, obviously,” says King, strangely admitting a mistake of the person in the match he’s supporting.

 

“Actually, King, I don’t think he was judging anything,” counters the Longdogger, “I just think he was trying to get that hold on as soon as possible, and in the match quickly to try and continue his momentum into Clusterfuck. Maybe even strike a little fear into El Luchadore Magnifico.”

 

“Ha!” laughs King, the sudden noise causing the Miami Menace to jump in his seat. “Surely you jest, Reign-Flogger!” Pete raises an eyebrow at the suspiciously witty reference to his decrying ELM’s success. “Magnifico fears nothing!”

 

Neither does Zyon, it seems, as the Unique Youth quickly kips to his feet, his momentum whipping his hair into his eyes. This slows him down none, however, as he flips back immediately...

 

*WHOOSH!*

 

 

...and just in time to dodge a decidedly decapitating Dynamic Kick! Johnson lands and stumbles, grabbing onto the ropes in front of him in order to slow his momentum. Noticing that Zyon is already bouncing off of the opposite ropes, Johnson charges, flinging his arm for his signature shotgun lariat...

 

*WHIFF!*

 

...that ALSO gets ducked! Thoroughly pissed now, Johnson turns once more to face Zyon...at the same moment that the Unique Youth comes sailing off of the second rope with a quebrada, snaring Johnson’s head as he goes by and landing on his feet with the Canadian trapped in a rear facelock! Johnson lashes out with one of his elbows, but he can’t get much speed behind it, and before it can reach his jaw Zyon twists on the spot, bringing himself around so that Johnson’s chin rests on his jaw...

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

“YEEEAAAAAAHH!!”

 

...and sits out with his Wicked Cutter! Johnson bounces off of the shoulder and immediately flees to the outside, where he puts his hands on his hips, attempting to look calm. Anyone that can see his face knows he’s failing, and badly.

 

“Wicked Cutter!” cries the Longdogger, “that twisting Stunner that Zyon just recently added to his moveset! Johnson obviously wasn’t prepared for it, or the incredible speed that preceeded it, and now he’s taking a breather on the outside.”

 

“Johnson may be taking a breather on the outside, Pete,” frowns the Legally Gambling Because He’s Over 21, Kids Man, “but it’s not because the move caught him off-guard.”

 

And indeed it doesn’t look to be. Instead, Johnson is rubbing at his throat, making sure that everything is okay. Now satisfied, the Canadian turns and rolls back into the ring before standing up and looking around...and realizing he is in a ring missing something.

 

Specifically, his opponent.

 

 

Understandably confused, Johnson turns and peers over the ropes, looking to see if the speedy Zyon had crept up behind him and was planning some sort of stealthy maneuver. Finding that space to be equally empty, he turns back to face the ring…just as Zyon leaps onto the apron, and subsequently to the top rope, before launching himself through the air…

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

…with a springboard forearm! Johnson staggers into the ropes, knocked for a loop, as Zyon deftly lands on his feet and catches the Canadian on the rebound before scooping him up…

 

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

“YYEEAAAAAHHH!!!”

 

 

…and sitting out again, this time with his Aero Driver! The pinning cradle inherent to the move, all Kalem has to do is slide in and count…

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

T-NO! As off-guard as the combo may have caught him, Johnson is far too tough to be put down with what amounts to a forearm and a scoop slam. The Canadian thrusts his legs out, rolling to his knees, and before Zyon can react the Ultimate Fighter snakes his way around the Unique Youth and pinions his arm, reaching his arm around for…

 

 

“…the Buffalo Sleeper!” cries King as Johnson looks to clamp the devastating blood choke on, but the two’s close proximity to the ropes stops him, just for a moment – and a moment is all Zyon needs to reach his feet out, stride up the ropes, and catapult himself over Johnson! The crowd cheers for the inventive counter, but the Elkhartian’s not clear yet, having failed to free his arm in the maneuver. Zyon, however, knows just what to do, and he reaches down and secures a rear facelock before dragging Johnson to his feet and spinning for another Wicked Cutter!

 

 

 

But Johnson shoves the Unique Youth away before his throat can be tormented by another twisting Stunner. The crowd sighs in disappointment, an emotion that definitely shows in Zyon’s face, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he turns around to face Johnson…JUST IN TIME TO EAT A YAKUZA KICK!!

 

 

*CA-RACK!*

 

 

Zyon collapses like a Styrofoam cup as the high-velocity boot of the champion slams into his jaw, the impact ringing throughout the United Center as Johnson takes a few steps to slow himself down before turning and walking to the corner, where he hoists himself up to the second rope and readies himself.

 

 

“Yakuza Kick from Johnson, forcefully removing Zyon’s jaw, and undoubtedly against his will!” says the undoubtedly brilliant to figure out such a thing Longdogger. “The Dynamic Kick was too costly last time, so he went with something a bit more grounded.”

 

 

“And that’s why Johnson is the longest-reigning champion ever. In Spike’s record reign, did he wrestle like this? No, and that’s why he lost the title,” smirks King.

 

 

“Actually, he did wrestle like this,” says Pete, looking a bit glad to be showing up the Heartbreaker, “and he lost because Toxxic hit him in the face with brass knuckles.”

 

 

“Oh yeah!” remembers the Gambling Man, his face lighting up. “Good times.”

 

 

As Pete rolls his eyes, and King sits back contentedly, Zyon clears the cobwebs from his head and rises to his feet…just as Johnson sends himself sailing off the middle strand, rotating in mid-air as he nears his target…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

…and pulverizing his jaw once more, this time with a diving back elbow! Zyon collapses again, and this time Johnson takes advantage, diving on top and wristlocking the far arm as Kalem drops down to count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW-But just as Johnson was tougher than a forearm and a scoop slam, Zyon is tougher than a running kick and an elbow, and he proves it by shoving his shoulder skyward before Kalem can even count two. Johnson sits back on his knees for a moment, mildly disappointed that two big strikes couldn’t at least get two, and a moment is all Zyon needs to roll to his feet and spring off of the ropes before coming back with a Yakuza Kick of his own!

 

 

 

*WHIFF!*

 

 

 

Unfortunately, Johnson has done far too many to get caught with one himself, and he tilts his head just out of the way of the blow, catching the Unique Youth’s leg on his shoulder. Having a firm grip of the appendage, Johnson leaps to his feet and hugs the Indianan close before bringing him up…over…and dropping him on his shoulders with a capture belly-to-belly! A bridging one, at that!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH-THAT one got two, but it wasn’t enough to get three, Johnson unfolding his spine as he releases the hold upon prompting from the referee. Zyon looks a little dazed from his unceremonious high-angle dumping, but nothing too serious – even for family-friendly Lockdown.

 

 

 

“What flexibility!” lauds King as Johnson draws himself to his feet, taking a moment to take a breath after such a sudden expense of his energy. “Incredible bending on the part of Johnson, one you wouldn’t expect from a man his size. Like him or not, Pete, Johnson has fantastic athleticism.”

 

 

“I’ve never said anything derogatory about his athleticism,” defends the Longdogger, “it’s the company he keeps that bugs me. But here’s a question for you, Brian. If this were an earlier encounter, instead of resting right now, Johnson would be looking for a juji-gatame or a Buffalo Sleeper so that he could wear down his opponent and rest himself at the same time. His approach seems to be a bit more laid-back than we’re used to seeing from him.”

 

 

“That wasn’t technically a question, Pete,” says the Heartbreaker quite snootily, prompting yet another eye-rolling from the Miami Menace, “but I see what you’re getting at. The answer’s quite simple really; Johnson’s not being as intense as before because he knows he doesn’t need to be. He was extra-intense last time, because he was trying to do something he’d never done before – beat Zyon. Now that he’s done that, his mind is at ease, and now he’s free to try and lure Zyon into wrestling his match instead of forcing him into it like last time.”

 

 

Speaking of Zyon, he’s up. And since he’s up, Johnson is on the prowl again, moving in a crouched position around the Unique Youth as if stalking him, waiting for his chance to strike. Zyon knows exactly what he’s doing, making sure to turn at all times and not take his eyes off of the Canadian – or rather, not to let the Canadian get him on the mat, where he’s sure to be hopelessly outclassed. Knowing this, he lags just a moment, and it is the work of a moment for Johnson to shoot in, looking for a double leg takedown…

 

 

“OOF!”

 

 

…and eat a hard dropkick to the stomach, Zyon taking himself off of the mat just in time to avoid a painful and embarrassing fate! The crowd cheers with relief, but the Unique Youth’s not done yet, as he quickly rolls to his feet before backflipping and catching Johnson in the face with both feet, standing the Canadian upright with a bit of a dazed look in his eyes!

 

 

“Flash kick!” shouts Pete, attempting to be heard over the sudden outburst from the Windy City populace. “Shades of Guile with that unique maneuver!”

 

 

“Who?” asks King, looking very puzzled.

 

 

“Guile,” repeats Pete, “you know, from Street Fighter?”

 

 

“Is that one of those backyard feds?” asks the hopelessly un-hip Heartbreaker as Zyon kips up before bouncing off of the ropes, coming back, and diving over Johnson…but not empty-handed, as he snares a facelock on the way by and spikes the Canadian on his head with a neck-wrenching Bring Me Down DDT!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

“YYEEEAAAAHHH!!”

 

 

“This could be it,” says Pete excitedly, “Johnson’s neck took a NASTY shot!”

 

And it probably could. But Johnson would be expecting a pin (the Unique Youth not considering that Johnson is likely too out of it to do anything about hit even if he were expecting a pin), and so Zyon tries something a little different, clamping his legs around Johnson’s waist and squeezing hard, giving the Canadian a taste of his own front facelock choke!

 

“YEEEEAAAAAAHH!!!”

 

 

Kalem’s eyes and Johnson’s eyes bug out of their head at the exact same time, a scary coincidence, as the Unique Youth cinches in the illegal-on-Lockdown hold. Johnson attempts to wrestle for position, trying to free himself just a little oxygen. No such look, much to the Canadian’s shock, and his attempt to push Zyon back onto his shoulders has no effect either.

 

“This is truly bizarre,” comments King, to which Pete nods in agreement, “mostly because Zyon can’t win with this hold. If Johnson passes out, the match is a draw.”

 

“Ah, but here’s the kicker, Brian,” counters Pete, “Johnson is an Ultimate Fighter. In UFC, the typical instinct when you’re running out of oxygen is to tap out before you pass out.”

 

“I refuse to believe Zyon planned that far ahead,” pouts King as Johnson takes another moment in the hold - a precious moment (no, not the dolls) - before putting his latest plan into action; another typical UFC instinct. Bracing his legs against the ground, and with a groan that probably breaks the rules his doctor set for him about loud noises, Johnson strains with every muscle in his body and dead-lifts all 200 pounds of Zyon clean off of the mat, choke and all.

 

 

*BA-BOOOM!!!*

 

 

And then takes him right back down with a thunderous spinebuster! Almost as if he were a dead bug, Zyon’s limbs shoot clean away from his torso - and away from his grip on Johnson. The Canadian takes advantage of this, not with a pin, but by bouncing back up to his feet and walking around the ring, shaking his head and attempting to suck precious oxygen back into his lungs.

 

“What a reversal!” the Heartbreaker shrieks with glee as Zyon attempts to sit up, then realizing that that’ll take a bit too much effort than his lungs can handle for the moment and laying back down, waving away Kalem’s attempts to see if he wants to quit. “THAT is how you escape a choke hold.”

 

Pete can’t say much to counter that as the Unique Youth sits up, actually making it this time...and then rolls back onto his shoulders before unfolding his legs and kipping up to a massive cheer! Johnson hears the cheer from his position looking out over the crowd, and immediately knows something’s amiss, turning around just as Zyon takes to the air with a Stinger Splash...that is promptly thwarted as Johnson sticks an arm out, hooks a uranage, and sweeps the Unique Youth’s airborne legs out from under him before driving him into the mat with a vicious STO! The Elkhartian lands high and hard on his shoulders, rolling away from his assailant as best he can before coming to a neck-pain ordained rest on his back, certainly within pinning range of Johnson, who swoops in like a vulture to hook the leg.

 

ONE!

 

?TWO!

 

 

TH-NO! Zyon’s neck is tougher than imagined, and he kicks out quite forcefully, much to Johnson’s dismay. Apparently, this laid-back approach isn’t going to work. And it’s with that in mind that the Canadian reaches across Zyon, grasping the Unique Youth’s left wrist with his left hand before slipping his right arm under the pinned arm of the Elkhartian’s, grasping his own wrist, and jerking the arm towards Zyon’s head while at the same time bending it off of the mat with a kimura shoulderlock!

 

“Kimura shoulderlock from Johnson here, very effective hold,” says King, seriously for once, as the Canadian torques away on the Unique Youth’s unfortunate shoulder. However, while his arms may be trapped under Johnson’s weight, his ever-dangerous legs are free to roam as they please, and he capitalizes by bringing them up and trapping Johnson before pulling him into a headscissors! Before Johnson can do the standard kip-out, Zyon takes advantage of the lack of pressure on his arm by straightening out that of Johnson and looking for a juji-gatame! The Canadian, however, is well aware that that’s not bloody likely, and immediately rolls backwards, taking advantage of Zyon’s rather limp grip on the hold, and ends up on his stomach before bringing himself up to his hands and knees to prevent more holds - a measure he never expected to have to take against the Unique Youth. Zyon’s not done yet, though, as he dives over Johnson before wrapping the Canadian’s arm around his leg and diving BACK over, cradling Johnson with La Majistral!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR-Johnson forces his way out, but the strength of his kickout ends up placing him in the usually unfortunate position of being trapped in a headscissors on the ground. However, Zyon has little idea where to go from here, which gives Johnson the opportunity to push himself upright with a headstand. A bit wary of this new position, the Unique Youth quickly braces his hands against Johnson’s back in order to prevent some sort of unexpected jacknife pin, but as wise as that is, it does him no good when Johnson athletically porpoise-bends his way up to his feet before leaping skyward...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

...and driving his feet straight into the face of Zyon with a hesitation dropkick! Johnson rolls backwards out of the move before scrambling forward, taking the Youth’s legs, and THEN diving over with an actual jacknife pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR-But Zyon kicks out forcibly once more, and neither man wastes no time scrambling to their feet before facing each other, the crowd beginning to applaud as the two men engage in the mandatory Indy Respect Staredown~!

 

 

 

 

*CA-RACK!*

 

 

 

Apparently it’s not that mandatory, which Johnson proves by rotating on the spot before obliterating Zyon’s jaw with his signature rolling elbow! The Unique Youth stumbles back into the corner, and the Ultimate Fighter wastes zero time following him in, springing to the second rope and securing the single-underhook front facelock combo known as a tiger neck chancery before, in an odd maneuver, leaping backwards, planting his feet in Zyon’s stomach as he falls and rolls, bringing the Indiana native smacking HARD into the mat with a move that’s part half-hatch suplex, part monkey flip! And Johnson’s not done yet, as he rolls with the move and ends up on his knees next to a still-facelocked challenger, where he switches his underhook to a hammerlock and drives the Unique Youth onto his shoulders with a Tom Flesher-style By the Numbers pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR-But Zyon manages to shake off the surprising chain of moves in time to shoot his free shoulder up! The crowd lets out a whoosh of breath upon that event, both from relief that Zyon escaped the fancy amateur maneuver and from holding their breath as that impressive chain went on.

 

“WHAT A SEQUENCE!” gasps Pete, obviously impressed by the mix of chain wrestling and high-spottery that just went on before him, “never let it be said that Zyon can’t mat wrestle!”

 

“Zyon can’t mat wrestle,” says the Heartbreaker, firmly yet with a grin on his face. Why’s he grinning?

 

“*BLEEP*hole,” mutters Pete.

 

He just cost the Longdogger 500 dollars, that’s why.

 

Johnson scrabbles for another kimura, but before he can get the shoulderlock on fully, something stops him. More specifically, a sight stops him, the same sight that has the United Center’s mood swiftly deteriorating, the same sight that has Kalem looking with great care towards the ramp.

 

Because halfway down the steel, complete with flag, head-bobbing, and all-around arrogance, is El Luchadore Magnifico, striding slowly down to the ringside area. The red, white, and green that represent Mexico trailing grandly behind him, Magnifico makes his way around the ring, he and Johnson’s eyes meeting only momentarily before he continues on his merry little way, chasing David Blazenwing out of his chair before resting his flag against the guardrail, taking a seat, moving his flag over to against the announce table (inspired by the ninnies getting their grubby hands all over it), and staring intently at what’s happening in the ring.

 

“Um...what’s he doing here?” questions Pete, eyeing the SWF’s World Champion just as suspiciously as the referee did 30 seconds earlier.

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT’S HE DOING HERE?!” shrieks the Gambling Man, aghast at Pete’s insubordination.

 

For his part, Johnson doesn’t particularly care that Magnifico is at ringside, instead drawing his arm back before slicing his elbow downward towards Zyon’s head!

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

Or, where Zyon’s head used to be rather. Instead of the sickening crack of elbow on skull, we get the equally sickening crack of elbow on plywood and steel, the Unique Youth’s speed being far greater than that of Johnson’s arm. The Canadian immediately cradles the limb, an apparently wounded one, and immediately rises to his knees, clutching at his arm in a manner most foul. Unfortunately, he forgets a very key rule of wrestling. Where there is rolling, there is somebody getting to their feet. Where there is somebody getting to their feet, there is running...

 

 

*SNAPPP!!!*

 

 

...and where there is running, in this case, there is a brutal Snap dropkick to the wounded arm that sends Johnson tumbling between the bottom and middle ropes to the outside!

 

“YEEAAAAAHHH!!!”

 

 

“Boo! Hiss! Throwing over the bottom rope, disqualification! Thank God for the cruiserweight addenda!” cries King as Johnson sits up, looking...well, he’s certainly not happy. The fans are, though, and as Johnson rises their mood only looks to improve. The Canadian reaches his feet at the same time the crowd noise reaches it’s climax, and a curious Johnson looks towards the ring...JUST AS ZYON SENDS HIMSELF OVER THE TOP WITH A PESCADO!

 

 

 

THAT JOHNSON DUCKS!

 

 

 

BUT ZYON WASN’T DOING IN THE FIRST PLACE! Instead, Zyon plants both feet firmly on the apron, where he takes a glance back at Johnson before leaping, springing off of the second rope, and twisting in mid-air, wrapping both of his legs around Johnson’s neck as he prepares for the mother of all headscissors!

 

 

The next few moments appear to happen in slow motion. Instead of using his momentum to swing back and send Johnson for a tumble, Johnson is trudging forward, grasping Zyon’s waist and shoving, managing to sit out at the same time. Perfectly prepared for the tailbone trauma that this is going to bring him, Johnson puts as much effort into this move as he can, which is not good news Zyon.

 

 

*CLLOOONNGGG!!*

 

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!”

 

 

Powerbombs into the apron rarely are.

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

Kalem is a bit shellshocked - as are likely the sponsors - but he begins his count nonetheless, Zyon’s eyes open as wide as human eyes have the ability to go. His mouth is muttering things, but no noises are emerging, and he slowly, uselessly, slumps to the floor as he tears at the shirt on his back, doing anything he possibly can to numb the searing pain. Johnson, despite the definite aggravation in his shoulder, couldn’t be happier.

 

 

“TWO!”

 

“Did...did you...” Pete can’t find words. “Did he...”

 

Mags stands and grabs his flag, walking around the ring and making his way back up the ramp. Johnson, meanwhile, lugs the obviously pained Zyon up onto the apron, shoves him into the ring, and slides in after him.

 

And Magnifico turns back to face the ring.

 

 

Johnson slides in for the pin, looking for one of those newfangled Japanese pins...AND ZYON GRABS HIS HEAD IN HIS ARM BEFORE WRAPPING HIS LEGS AROUND HIM AND SQUEEZING WITH ANOTHER FRONT FACELOCK CHOKE!

 

“YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

 

 

“FRONT FACELOCK CHOKE! ANOTHER FRONT FACELOCK CHOKE!” bellows the Longdogger as the United Center rises as one, screaming at the top of their lungs as Johnson immediately goes into panic mode.

 

 

Unfortunately for the Chicago fans, the pin he was trying involves him standing.

 

 

It takes more effort than before. It hurts more than before, thanks to his arm. But Johnson, just like earlier in the contest, lifts Zyon clean off of the mat. The Unique Youth tightens the hold, knowing his spine can’t take another of those vicious slams, but Johnson has better plans, bringing one knee up and driving it straight into his spinal column! Zyon screams in pain, and loosens his grip ever so slightly.

 

That ever so slightness is all Johnson needs to slide his head out of Zyon’s grasp and, holding onto the waist, lower the Youth downwards, back on the mat...and then step over.

 

 

The crowd gasps as one, Zyon’s pain increased exponentially as the Unique Youth is bent nearly in half by the Manhattan Crab.

 

 

“Oh my God!” shouts King, “what a hold! With all the back work, I’m not sure how much longer Zyon can last!”

 

Neither is Kalem, who immediately slides in and checks on the Unique Youth, asking him if he wants to submit. Defiantly - some would say foolishly - Zyon shakes his head no, blatantly refusing to give up. Meawhile, on the other end of things, Johnson is staring out over the crowd, smiling. He’s got this thing in the bag, and he’s doing it with a torturous hold on his arch-rival, making this two wins in a row. He can’t help but feel pleased with himself.

 

And then, he catches something out of the corner of his eye, little bursts of things due to his fuzzy peripheral vision.

 

Guy.

 

Flag.

 

 

Magnifico.

 

 

Flagpole.

 

 

Swinging.

 

 

*CA-FUCKING-RAAAACKK!!!*

 

 

Darkness.

 

 

“HEY!” screams Pete, standing bolt upright as Johnson slumps into the ropes, releasing the devestating hold and allowing Zyon some room to move, to breath. Magnifico immediately hops off of the apron as Zyon drags himself to his feet, the World Champion laughing wildly as the Unique Youth lifts the curiously limp champion into a rear facelock and takes a few steps back towards the center of the ring before spinning on the spot...and sitting out.

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

Instead of bouncing away like earlier, Johnson lifelessly collapses onto his side after this Wicked Cutter, and it is the work of a moment for Zyon to drag himself across the prone corpse of the champion and make the cover.

 

 

 

One.

 

 

 

“No. Not like this,” says Pete, refusing to believe his eyes. King has mixed emotions, and so keeps his mouth shut.

 

 

 

Two.

 

 

 

The Illinois crowd has King’s problem, and is mostly silent, a few murmurs going down here and there. The only real sound in the arena is Magnifico’s fits of laughter.

 

 

 

Three.

 

 

DING DING DING!!

Edited January 5, 2006 by Justice

[Justice 0]

“And this is just a heartbreaking way to end Smarkdown.” LDP grimly reports. “JJ Johnson’s amazing, record-breaking Cruiserweight Title reign has come to an end tonight, thanks mainly to an unwarranted, brutal attack from El Luchadore Magnifico.”

 

“If you ask me, Magnifico’s done the fed a great favor.” King counters, doing his best to supress a gloating smile. “The Cruiserweight Title’s belongs with an overhyped spot monkey like Zyon. It was totally inappropriate for JJ, and he was just being selfish holding the thing for over four months.”

 

Zyon has already made his way up the ramp, leaving JJ motionless in the center of the ring. When he’s sure that Zyon has left the area, Magnifico pops out from wherever he was hiding and steps onto the foot of the entrance ramp, observing JJ with a huge grin on his face. It’s just then that Johnson begins to stir and push himself to his feet, catching sight of the luchadore as he reaches his hands and knees. Mexican Flag in hand, ELM smiles and waves cheerfully at JJ, who is putting together the events of the last few minutes in his head, getting more and more furious as he does so. A snarling Johnson stands and shouts at Magnifico, insisting that he get in the ring and atone for costing him the Cruiserweight Title. ELM simply laughs and turns on his heel, starting up the entrance ramp to the great displeasure of both JJ and the live audience. Suddenly, JJ spins around and makes a break for the ropes on the other side of the ring, causing the crowd to roar in anticipation. Johnson bounces off of said ropes and rushes across the ring, doing so as Magnifico, confused by the crowd’s reaction, turns back towards the ring. He does so just in time to see JJ leaping over the top rope, hurtling his entire body at ELM’s with a Suicide Dive! A mighty cheer rises from the crowd as Johnson crashes into Magnifico, knocking the Mexican Flag out of his hand and sending both men tumbling to the hard, unforgiving floor!

 

“Holy damn!” A surprised Pete cries. “JJ, incensed with the luchadore’s actions, just cut Magnifico’s exit short with a breathtaking Suicide Dive!”

 

“Jeez, what a sore loser.” King rolls his eyes. “Leaping around like a moron isn’t going to get you your precious Cruiserweight Title back, Johnson.”

 

Immediately after knocking Magnifico to the ground, Johnson grabs ELM and turns him onto his back. JJ then sits on the luchadore’s chest and begins to simply bash away at his face, knocking his head to one direction with his right fist before knocking it the other with his left! With tens of thousands of bloodthirsty fans cheering him on, an infuriated Johnson continues his relentless assault on the luchadore, his eyes wide open and his teeth clenched as he hammers away at Magnifico’s jaw! Having seen enough, the ref rolls to the outside and grabs Johnson, trying his best to pull him off of the hapless luchadore. However, JJ simply swats him away, earning himself a hefty fine as the ref tumbles to the floor. Johnson returns his attention to Magnifico, who’s drunkenly turning onto his side and spitting out blood and possibly a couple teeth. Not quite satisfied, JJ grabs ELM by the hair, pulls him slightly off of the floor, and then throws him forward, driving Magnifico’s skull into the nearby guardrail!

 

“JJ Johnson is completely out of control here!” Pete reports. “I don’t think he’ll be satisfied until Magnifico is comatose!”

 

ELM falls lifelessly to the floor as JJ stands above him, his chest heaving as he struggle to contain the ridiculous amount of rage swelling within him. That fight is lost, however, when Johnson catches sight of the Mexican Flag, lying innocently in the middle of the ramp. JJ’s eyes narrow as he reaches down and grabs it, feeling the heft in his hands for a moment before striding over to the motionless luchadore. Johnson kneels and grabs Magnifico by the hair, pulling his head back and exposing his forehead. With the other hand, Johnson brings the the sharp tip of the flagpole towards Magnifico’s forehead. Suddenly, JJ jabs the metal tip directly into ELM’s forehead, drawing a dull moan of pain from the stunned luchadore. His face completely emotionless, Johnson draws the tip from one side of Magnifico’s forehead to the other, creating a long, thin, bright-red line that goes from sideburn to sideburn. The cut bleeds ever so slightly, sending thin crimson blood trickling down ELM’s forehead and towards his nose and eyes. Finally satisfied, JJ releases Magnifico’s head, allowing him to fall back to the floor. He looks at the tip of the flag for a moment, observing the blood that drips from its the sharp metal edge before simply letting it go and allowing to fall to the floor. With half of the crowd looking on in silence and the other half cheering raucously, Johnson slowly makes his way up the ramp, his face still emotionless and his eyes locked straight ahead.

 

“You mean to tell me this psychopath is the man who’ll be challenging the virtous Magnifico for the World Heavyweight Title?!” A disbelieving King cries. “After what we witnessed tonight, JJ shouldn’t even be in this federation, much less competing for its most prestigous title!”

 

“I admit that Johnson took things a step too far, but even you can’t deny that Magnifico didn’t deserve at least some of that.” Pete counters.

 

“I can and I will.” King stubbornly responds. “The only thing any of the SWF’s wrestlers should do to Magnifico are praise him and lay down to him. They’re not worthy of anything else.”

 

Pete rolls his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible. “In any case, we’re out of time for tonight, folks. Thanks for watching, and be sure to tune into Lockdown!”

 

The last image shown is a close up shot of El Luchadore Magnifico, blood flowing freely from his forehead and into his eyes...

 

FADE OUT

[Justice 0]

A pretty good show, though I'm missing a few things. Hopefully that'll change.

 

And appologies for being late; anyone who knows of my home connection knows how miserable of a dialup it is.

 

Smarkdown will be up a little later in the evening. I gotta prepare a few things first.