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SWF Smarkdown~! 1-11-06

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The Smarks Wrestling Federation presents...



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


Like the many Americans before us, the SWF is going to be travelling across the great Heartland of the US on its way to the West Coast, and we'll be stopping at every big city inbetween*! First on the list in the Savvis Center in St. Louis, where we have Jay Hawke defending his title against two contenders instead of one, the beginning of the best of 5 Series between Akira and Bruce Blank, and much, much more.

*Not a Guarantee


Opening Promo: El Luchadore Magnifico




Jay Hawke vs. Wildchild vs. Stryke

-> CC thinks that Jay Hawke has held onto that International Title a bit too long. Time to throw in some rough competition for him! Stryke and WC are two worthy contenders and are not occupied, and Peters think this will be an excellent way to keep them busy.

Rules: Elimination style rules. All three guys are in the ring at once.



Akira Kaibatsu vs. Bruce Blank

-> Well, Bruce made quite a return on Family Friendly*coughYeahRightcough* Lockdown. If I were Akira, I'd be running scared from such a mad-man. But he ain't me, and he's going for a best of 5 against the biggest ultraviolent Hardcore Champion since Dace Night and Jay Dawg. Is Akira going to be the man to stop him?

Rules: Hardcore Match Rules. Two sides of the ring are lined with florescent light tubes for the wrestlers to use.



JJ Johnson vs. Manson

-> Ho-boy, is JJ ticked. After losing his Cruiserweight Title, JJ stormed into the office, asking for a match against ELM or the next best thing. Well, since they aren't meeting until Clusterf***, the next best thing is... uh... MANSON! Yeah, Manson. Well, with Hardcore Rules, anything can happen, and MANSONOSITY might just be able to break his slump and come out on top of the rising JJ.

Rules: Hardcore match, so no rules.



Zyon/Spike vs. Kevin Coyote

Special Guest Announcer: William 'Justice' Hearford

-> That Kevin Coyote doesn't get any respect. After losing a close match to Tim Dillon, the young upstart's path is only going to get tougher. In preparation for an upcoming Gauntlet Match, CC has decided to book him in a handicap match to see if he can take on two people, let alone four or five! Road Agent William 'Justice' Hearford, part of this decision, has also been assigned to help out at the commentary table.

Rules: Standard Handicap match. The two must tag in and out. Coyote only needs to pin one of them to win.



Landon Maddix vs. TORU Takahara

-> Due to an outbreak of the flu, KOJI is unable to wrestle, and thusly no Tag Title match on Smarkdown. Darn. Oh well, it looks like Landon Maddix and TORU Takahara are just going to have to face off without their partners. One on one, soon to be two on two... who will win in a skirmish between Tag Contender and Tag Champion?

Rules: Standard Singles Match.



Ghost Machine vs. Max King

-> Well, now that we've ordered the new and improved Ghost Machine model, it's time to really take it to its limits. Who better than Max King, one of the most talented wrestlers in the federation today. Like Deep Blue and Kasparov before them, this match looks to be the ultimate battle between Man and Machine!

Rules: Standard Match.



Tim Dillon vs. The 70's Dude

-> Holy overused Stereotypes, Booking Man! A guy who thinks he's in the 70's, and a Pikey! God damned if they weren't begging for a match together.

Rules: Standard Singles Match





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SWF Smarkdown’s opening festivities finally die down, leaving in its place an anxious, overexcited crowd, eager to just explode into cheers the moment the music of a SWF fan favorites hits the speakers.








Unfortunately, they’re severely disappointed when it’s Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” that suddenly floods the arena, blasting over the Savvis Center’s PA system as red, white, and green pyro explodes upwards from the entrance stage. A moment later, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts through the pyro-induced smoke, the World Title wrapped around his waist and his Mexican Flag flapping gracefully behind him. His face like stone, Magnifico quickly makes his way down the entrance ramp, paying no mind to the taunts and heckling of the teeming masses that line his path.


“Ladies and gentlemen…” Funyon begins in a husky, pleasing baritone, “Please welcome the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, EL LUCHADOOOOOOORRE MAGNFICOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”


The live audience rudely ignores Funyon’s request and redoubles their booing efforts as Magnifico approaches the ring and slides beneath its bottom rope. Once inside, he pops to his feet, strides across the ring, and impassively signals for a microphone. An anonymous intern hands him one, causing the fans to inwardly and outwardly groan in anticipation as Magnifico begins to pace around on the canvas, the microphone in one hand and his Mexican Flag in the other.


“This is exactly how I wanted SWF Smarkdown to start!” King declares. “After the heinous, brutal, despicable, underhanded, vile, disgraceful, loathsome - ”


“Does this insane rambling have a point?” Pete suddenly interrupts, annoyed.


King shoots him a cold glare. “I had eleven more perfectly good adjectives in mind, but fine, I guess I’ll move it along for the more impatient among us. Magnifico should get all the time he wants to air out his grievances with the diabolical JJ Johnson, who viciously attacked the luchadore at the end of Lockdown!”


“JJ may have a went a couple steps too far in his beating of Magnifico,” Pete admits, “But like I said then, ELM had it coming. If he hadn’t interfered in Johnson’s title defense against Zyon, he would still be the Cruiserweight Champion. End of story.”


“You say that like JJ being the Cruiserweight Champion was a GOOD thing.” King counters. “The Charismaless Wonder hasn’t done a damn thing with that belt since he got it. At least now, the idiots at the live shows can whoop and holler when Zyon jumps around like a moron.”


Magnifico ceases his pacing and steps into the center of the ring, holding his Mexican Flag over his shoulder. He looks out over the already-annoyed crowd for a moment before bringing the microphone to his lips and finally speaking.


“The events that occurred at the end of Lockdown made for some of the most humiliating moments of my career.” Magnifico matter-of-factly states, drawing a cheer from the somewhat surprised crowd. “I stupidly let my guard down and allowed JJ Johnson to take me by surprise, a situation he took full advantage of”


“But none of the blows you landed hurt as much as the one to my pride, Johnson.” ELM continues, his voice slowly growing in volume as he does so. “Even though my jaw ached for days and this unsightly cut on my forehead still hasn’t healed, this marks are nothing compared to the emotional torment I went through after Lockdown.”


The crowd’s reaction is silence mixed with a few scattered boos; they seem to be genuinely curious about where Magnifico is going with this. Suddenly, ELM brings his Mexican Flag down and plants it on the canvas, before bringing the microphone back to his lips, his face suddenly alive with emotion.


“Believe it or not, I can deal with taking a simple beating like the one you gave me, Johnson.” Magnifico passionately shouts. “But how dare you use this flag, this glorious symbol of my pride and my love of the great country of Mexico, to cut up my forehead?”


“It’s the greatest show of disrespect I have received in all my time in the SWF.” ELM ominously states, his eyes narrowing. “I was simply going to cost you the Cruiserweight Title and then leave you alone until Clusterfuck, but I guess that can’t happen now. Now I’m going to have to - ”






Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat” suddenly hits the speakers, interrupting Magnifico mid-sentence and signaling the entrance of one JJ Johnson! The thankful crowd releases a massive pop, and only grows louder when the man himself strides out from behind the curtain, a bottle of water in his hand and an indifferent scowl on his face. Johnson pauses at the top of the stage and simply stares at Magnifico, who seems shocked and furious that JJ had the outright nerve to interrupt him. After a moment though, ELM regains his composure and actually manages a smile. He steps towards the side of the ring closest to the entrance ramp and hangs over the ropes, his eyes locked coldly on JJ as he resumes speaking.


“I’m actually glad you decided to come out here, JJ.” Magnifico admits, an unsettling smile still painted on his face. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to show you what things are going to be like from here until Clusterfuck.”


“You see, as the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, I’m an extremely busy man.” ELM lectures, drawing a few boos from the live audience as he does so. “I simply don’t have the time to battle with you on every show from now until the Pay-Per-View. Even though it defies my passionate nature to do so, I can’t be bothered to beat the shit out of you until our actual match.”


The irritated crowd roundly boos that statement, loudly cursing and taunting the luchadore while JJ simply crosses his arms and smirks.


“But I know that you’re not as patient and reasonable man as I am, JJ.” Magnifico proclaims in an understanding tone. “So, I’ve made an arrangement with a few individuals to ensure that you don’t lay a finger on me until January 29th. I believe you’re already familiar with these fine people, so why don’t I just bring them out now so you can all get re-acquainted?”


JJ raises his eyebrow at that, wondering what the hell Magnifico has planned as the fans do the same, murmuring anxiously amongst themselves. The tension inside the arena builds for a few moments, until…




…Mad Capsule Markets’ “Tribe” blasts over the Savvis Center’s speakers, signaling the entrance of the TORU KOJI Organization! JJ spins around just in time to see TORU and KOJI burst out from the back, flanked on either side by Chris Card and Natasha! Before Johnson can even make a move, the group surrounds him, leaving JJ with no visible means of escape. Infuriated, a snarling Johnson turns back towards the ring, where he sees a grinning Magnifico, still hanging casually over the ropes.


“TKO is going to be my, for lack of a better word, bodyguards over the next few weeks.” Magnifico cheerfully announces. “Of course, they weren’t cheap, but Chris Card did give me a very generous discount when he found it out that you were my main concern. These guys will do anything to do harm to Cucaracha Internacional, it seems.”


Johnson looks at Card, who has a gloating smirk on his face. Getting angrier by the second, JJ clenches his fists and seems ready to strike, when ELM suddenly speaks once more.


“Uh uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, JJ.” Magnifico condescendingly instructs, wagging his finger as he does so. “See, this is how it’s going to work; you leave me and TKO alone, and you don’t get the piss beaten out of you at every show from here to Clusterfuck. You attack me or any member of TORU KOJI Organization, and…well, let’s just say you won’t be in the best shape to challenge me for the World Title.”


Slowly, begrudgingly, Johnson unclenches his fists and relaxes his body, realizing that there’s nothing he can do for now.


“Just keep that in mind, JJ.” Magnifico recommends. “Feel free to leave any time you like.”


JJ shoots one more nasty glare at ELM before slowly turning and making his way towards the back, having to walk through KOJI and TORU as he does so. Both men simply stare coldly at JJ as he walks by, Johnson returning the stares as he waits for an attack from the tag team. Surprisingly, none comes, and Johnson is allowed to walk to the back in peace. Right before disappearing through he curtain, though, JJ spins on his heel and throws a middle finger in Magnifico’s direction, drawing a raucous pop from the pleased crowd as Johnson removes himself from sight. ELM’s grin simply grows wider, as if he knows that it’ll only be a matter of time before JJ lets his emotions get the better of him.


“An astounding announcement to kick off Smarkdown!” Pete cries. “Magnifico has hired TKO as his bodyguards until Clusterfuck, meaning that JJ can’t lay a finger on him until then!”


“And may I just take this opportunity to applaud Magnifico’s actions!” King boldly states while actually clapping his hands. “Knowing that this pathetic federation is terrible at protecting its stars, ELM took the intelligent move of hiring the best bodyguards money can buy to keep himself safe from the psychopath JJ Johnson!”


Pete rolls his eyes. “In any case, we’ve got a lot of SWF action planned tonight, so stay tuned! Tim Dillon vs. The 70’s Dude is up next!”

Edited by chirs3

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*The familiar mixture of bagpipes and guitar begin to fill the arena causing the fans to stand in excitement as they find themselves in the midst of a paper shamrock blizzard.*


Pete: Listen to these fans King!


Suicide King: Its not surprising that St. Louis would be cheering on a barbaric drunk. Don’t forget these are the same people that cheered on that steroid abusing hack; Mark McGuire.


*Before Suicide King can continue to insult this week’s host of the SWF, he’s interrupted by the loud blast of pyro towards the entrance. Orange and Green sparks slowly fall to the ground as Tim Dillon walks out of the smoke caused by the impressive (and expensive!) fireworks. The Ring Announcer clears his throat and readies himself to try and cut through both the music and cheering fans.*


Ring Announcer: The following match is set for one fall. Coming down the aisle, he hails from Ireland…he’s the Lunatic Limey…this is…TIM DILLON!


*Dillon ceases the shadow boxing he had been doing while make his way down the aisle and proceeds to do a little bit of River Dancing before running down the aisle and slapping the out-stretched hands of the ecstatic fans and sliding into the ring. The music of Dropkick Murphy fades and the arena dims before strobe lights pan the crowd. The now anxious crowd waits as the dark and soothing sounds of “I’m Your Boogie Man” begin to fill the Savvis Center. A subtle boo is heard from the few fans knowledgeable of who The 70s Dude is.*


Suicide King: The fans don’t know it yet but they’re in for a real treat here!


*The lights return to normal and The 70s Dude walks out from the back. The charismatic hippy points out to the fans and shows off a $15 dollar smile where the teeth that still remain are crooked and slightly yellow whilst making his way to the ring.*


Ring Announcer: Now making his way down the aisle, he hails from Newark, New Jersey…he’s the Hellacious Hippy…this is…THE 70s DUDE!


Pete: This is the in-ring debut of The 70s Dude…


Suicide King: Ya, for the SWF. The 70s Dude isn’t some scrub off the streets, but a former title holder.


*The Dude climbs up the ring steps as his music dies down and SWF official Nick Soapdish searches him for foreign objects before signaling for the bell. The two competitors begin to circle one another before locking up with each fighting for the advantage. Dillon gains leverage however and backs The 70s Dude into a corner causing the ref to come and separate the two. Dillon backs away with a grin while The 70s Dude comes out of the corner and initiates another lock-up. This time The Dude gains control and backs Tim into the corner. The ref once again goes to break the two up and while Dillon raises his arms in the air The Dude sucker punches him in the jaw.*


Pete: What a blatant cheap shot!


*Soapdish warns The Dude but the warning appears to do nothing as The Dude continues to lay a flury of punches to the jaw of Tim causing him to slowly slump down to the mat. This time Nick Soapdish drags The Dude away from Tim and places himself between the two and shouts at the hippy while wagging his index finger in a furious manner at him. Tim slowly brings himself back to his feet in the corner and hangs on to the top ropes to keep himself steady while The Dude tries to get the ref to back off. Eventually the official does back away and The Dude takes the opportunity to bull run towards Tim…but Tim raises his leg and kisses The Dude on the cheek with the bottom of his boot! The Dude stumbles back and tries to shake the cobwebs but Dillon rushes out of the corner and clotheslines The Dude hard to the mat and then proceeds to do a little jig.*


Pete after placing a Cowboy hat on: This one’s turning into a slobber-knocker!


*Suicide King smacks Pete upside the head while Dillon brings The Dude to his feet. Dillon Irish-whips The Dude into the ropes, The Dude bounces off and Dillon falls to the mat while The Dude leap-frogs him. The Dude bounces off the far-side ropes as Dillon gets back to his feet. The out of control Dude-train then gets completely derailed by a vicious spinebuster from Dillon, causing the fans to erupt and The Dude to roll to the outside desperately.*


Pete: The 70s Dude is finding out firsthand that nothing compares to the SWF!


Suicide King: Ya, I’ll give you that but I wouldn’t count The Dude out just yet. Gaining a title isn’t easy wherever you go and this is a former champion we’re talking about.


*Soapdish reaches a 5 count during the announcers analysis while The Dude rubs his cheek and checks to see if he’s missing any molars. Tim Dillon sits on the middle rope and invites The Dude back in for more but his courtesy is ignored and The Dude gets back in via a different route before the ref can reach 9. The two men once again circle one another and get into a lock-up. Dillon with the advantage goes to Irish-Whip The Dude but its reversed! Dillon bounces into the ropes while The Dude backs towards the farside ropes. As Dillon rushes forward The Dude slowly falls back and holds the top rope while doing-so which sends Dillon to the outside and hard on his shoulder and neck. The fans boo loudly and the official, getting fed up with how The Dude operates, gives him his final warning.*


Suicide King: Say what you will but this is intelligent wrestling by The 70s Dude. Knowing exactly where he is while using his surroundings to his advantage. That’s the mark of a former champion.


Pete: It’s the mark of a cheap-shot artist if you ask me


SK: What do you know?


*The Dude exits the ring and gives Tim a stomp to the side of the head before bringing him to his feet. The Dude Irish-whips Dillon hard into the steel barricade. Dillon gives out a loud groan in response and The Dude goes and grabs a chair.*


Pete: What is he doing? This isn’t a hardcore match!!!


*The Dude launches the chair into the ring causing Nick to break from his count. The ref walks over to where the chair is and holds it out for the announcer to take and put back. While the Nick’s back is turned however The Dude takes another folding chair and slides it into the ring under the turnbuckles where it isn’t really noticeable. From there The Dude turns his attention back to Dillon, gives Dillon a kick to the gut, grabs him by the back of the head, and slides him back into the ring under the lower rope. The Dude returns to the ring, ignoring the paper cup full of soda thrown at him. Before Tim can get to his feet, The Dude locks in a front-facelock. Soapdish gets down on the mat to see if Tim is willing to call it quits but he just gets a muffled “Nay”.*


Pete: Dillon could be fading here…


SK: Smart move here by The 70s Dude. With all that alcohol swimming in Dillon’s system its not going to be easy for his body to keep the blood-flow to whatever brain he has left.


*The Dude torques his arm, trying to lock the hold in even further. Not seeing much life from Dillon, the official raises his arm and lets it go. Dillon’s arm does nothing more than flop back down lifelessly.*


Nick Soapdish: 1!!!!!


*The crowd gasps as their beloved Limey appears to be blacking out. Nick Soapdish grabs the arm once again and raises it in the air. He lets go of the arm and finds the same result as before.*


Nick Soapdish: 2!!!!!


*The Dude gives a wide smile feeling that he’s only moments away from having his arm lifted in victory. The official grabs Tim’s arm for a third time and raises it up. He lets go and the arm begins to drop…but only half way! The fans go berserk as Tim clinches a fist and shakes it back and forth while kicking at the mat, trying to get the fans to make their support audible.*


SK: Damnit! His brain is probably so damaged that its use to not receiving oxygen at this point!


Pete: Either way Dillon isn’t done yet!


*The shakes his head and shouts out for the fans to shut-up, but his pleas fall on deaf ears as the fans get even louder. Dillon slowly begins to power himself and The Dude to their feet, turning the front facelock into a side headlock. The Dude tries his best to torque it on tighter but Dillon only responds with an elbow to the abdomen. The Dude puffs out a breath and Dillon sends a second elbow into the abdomen. This time The Dude’s grip loosens a little, allowing Dillon to get a little bit more on the third elbow and break the hold completely. The fans go BONKERS~ and Dillon shoots himself off the ropes. Dillon charges at The 70s Dude but The Dude breaks any momentum Tim was gaining by driving his knee into the Irishman’s gut. The 70s Dude starts smiling and finally does a funky dance of his own before grabbing Dillon’s arm and dragging him towards the corner.*


Pete: Dillon’s in trouble again…I don’t know what The 70s Dude is setting up for here.


*The Dude climbs to the second turnbuckle, sits on the third turnbuckle for a moment before doing the Crazy Knees Dance~!*


Pete: He’s wasting a lot of valuable time here…


*The 70s Dude readies himself and goes for a leg drop from the middle turnbuckle...*


Pete: He missed!


SK: Nooooo! Awwww get up Dude!


*The Dude grasps at his posterior, Dillon starts to stir, and Nick Soapdish walks over to begin the mandatory 10-count and see if either competitor will answer.*









*Dillon gets to his knees while The Dude tries to push himself up*






*Dillon grabs the top rope and pulls himself up ending the ref’s count. The Dude brings himself to his knees but Tim walks over and helps him up the rest of the way. Dillon looks out to the fans while the The 70s Dude seems nearly out on his feet. The crowd pops anticipating what’s coming*


Suicide King: Not this…!


*Dillon throws a forearm at The Dude and rubs the elbow along the face while doing so. The 70s Dude just stumbles about in place.*


Pete: No arm drag, but it still could be…




Pete: The Dru…




Pete: nken Drag!


*Dillon goes to complete it with a jumping clothesline but The Dude falls to the ground in a heap and Dillon nails the ref instead!*


SK: Disqualify him! You can’t touch an official!


Pete: Oh please, it was obviously unintentional!


*Dillon looks shocked and goes over to check on Nick Soapdish, forgetting all about The 70s Dude. The Dude takes the opportunity to crawl towards the corner. He looks back momentarily to access the situation before reaching for a familiar friend.*


Pete: It’s that damned chair he placed there earlier!


*Dillon continues trying to shake life back into the ref completely oblivious that The 70s Dude has now armed himself with a steel-folding chair. The Dude gets to his feet with the chair and raises it high above his head.*


Pete: Somebody get that chair away from him!


SK: If Dillon hadn’t mercilessly attacked the official then this wouldn’t be a problem.


*The Dude slowly creeps up on his prey and the fans start to boo loudly. Dillon gets to his feet and then turns around to see what all the hubbub is about and…*




Pete: Good god! What a sickening shot to the head!


*Dillon stumbles back a little and then looks up again, only to receive an even harder chair-shot than before. A small gash opens up in Dillon’s forehead as he slumps to the mat. The 70s Dude throws the now dented chair to the outside, the damage already being done.*


Pete: Dillon looks like he was in a car accident…


SK: Its only cheating if you get caught and Dillon’s unprovoked attack on the official gave The 70s Dude the opening. Tim has nobody to blame but himself.


*The ref finally starts to show movement and looks up to see what’s going on. The 70s Dude brings the nearly unconscious Dillon to his feet and then places him in a fireman’s carry.*


SK: Looks like its last call for Dillon…hahahaha!!!


*The 70s Dude looks out to the crowd briefly and then drops Tim Dillon hard on his head.*


Pete: *groans* Draft Dodger…


*The 70s Dude wastes no time and slides over Dillon for the pin.*












Ring Announcer: Your winner…The 70s Dude!


*The crowd boos while KC & The Sunshine Band once again fills the arena. Nick Soapdish raises The 70s Dude’s arm while still reeling from the clothesline.*


Pete: The 70s Dude may have won but I don’t think Tim Dillon is just going to let this go.


SK: Who cares about Tim Dillon? The 70s Dude just made one hell of a statement to the rest of the SWF locker room.


Pete: Don’t go away fans, we’ve got more great SWF action coming up…after this!


(fade to commercial)

Edited by realitycheck

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The Savvis Center’s lights go out, and some weird robot song starts up, heralding the arrival of the SWF’s most mechanical rookie!


“Ladies and gentlemen,” announces Funyon as SWF Smarkdown returns from commercial, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall!”


“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown,” says Longdogger Pete. “Last week, we saw the debut of Ghost Machine…”


“Ghost Machine Version Two Point Oh,” says Suicide King. “Get it right.”


“And tonight, he’s taking on another recent addition to the roster, the returning Max King! This should be a thriller!”


The velvet curtain spreads, and Chris Belcourt walks out through it, pushing a dolly to which the man in the pink bodysuit and mask is strapped. He walks Ghost Machine to the ring, despite the crowd’s boos, and unstraps him from the gurney before sighing deeply and walking away. Ghost Machine climbs up the steps mechanically, then walks to the center of the ring. A small index card begins feeding through the slit where a human’s mouth would be, and Funyon takes it from him.


“Currently in the ring, from BennerCorp’s secret, secured headquarters in Parts Unknown, with specifications of five feet, ten inches tall, and two-hundred thirty-one pounds, THIS. IS. GHOST MACHINE VERSION TWO POINT OH!”


The crowd boos Ghost Machine as he stands in the center of the ring. His robot song fades out, and the lights go out.




Cue pyrotechnics display on the ramp, followed by "Superstar" by Saliva playing over the speakers. Max King and Kelly step out from the entryway, looking out to the crowd with smiles, before looking to the ring. King begins to walk to the ring with a focused look on his face. Kelly, meanwhile, tells the crowd about Max's greatness and how he’s about to not only shutdown but also dismantle Ghost Machine. King and Kelly then get onto the ring apron, and enter through the second rope at the same time, pausing a moment to give each other a deep, passionate kiss, before going to the center of the ring.


“And his opponent… from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and weighing 250 pounds… ‘THE ICON’ MAX KING!!!!!”


Kelly removes King's vest and shades, then rubs his chest with her hand before stepping out of the ring. King then goes to the corner to start stretching, preparing for his match. Referee Nick Soapdish informs him of the rules before calling for the bell.






“This is going to be a good one,” says Pete, as King and Ghost Machine circle around each other in the center of the ring. King’s significant height advantage is evident, as Ghost Machine stands tall but is still dwarfed by almost half of a foot. King reaches out, grabbing the Machine by the wrist and pulling him into a collar-and-elbow tieup. Ghost Machine strains, trying to move his foe back, but the larger King is simply too strong to be pushed around. Instead, King reaches up and clubs Ghost Machine on the back of the neck with a mighty forearm blow, doubling him over! He throws an elbow smash into the back of Ghost Machine’s neck, then sends him to the mat with another clubbing blow! The crowd cheers as Ghost Machine hits his knees, then starts to try to force his way back up.


“Max King is showing an astonishing strength advantage,” Pete says. “He’s not even stopping to fool around, just getting straight down to bid’ness.”


Ghost Machine stands up again, but King quickly controls the situation by grabbing a wrist and whipping him into the far corner. Ghost Machine hits the turnbuckles hard, staggering backwards out of the corner, but King charges in after him and hammers him with a quick spinning back elbow! The Machine stumbles forward, chest-first into the corner once again. King, meanwhile, takes a moment to dust off his hands before grabbing his adversary and setting him up, his back against the buckles.


“Max King’s power is really showing through here,” Pete reiterates.


“You just said that,” sighs Suicide King. “Can’t you come up with something else to talk about, like Kelly Connelly, or Kelly Connelly’s legs, or something?”


King measures his opponent, making sure to have the proper angle of attack, before reaching out and whacking him with a knife-edge chop!




Ghost Machine reels in pain, even as the bodysuit he wears absorbs some of the sting. King isn’t put off by the resilience of his opponent, however, and hits him with another chop.




King smirks, satisfied with the attack, as Ghost Machine’s head rolls backwards. The Icon takes several steps back, waiting for Ghost Machine to regain his senses. As soon as he does, Max sprints into the corner and hammers him with a clothesline, nearly decapitating him in the process! He backs away and flexes for the crowd, prompting a major round of applause from Kelly Connelly as well as a pop from the Savvis Center’s capacity audience. Ghost Machine, meanwhile, staggers forward, taking one step… then another… and finally flopping forward impotently onto his face.


For some reason, this makes the crowd cheer even louder.


“I don’t know what it is about this Ghost Machine,” Pete says, “but he seems so… oddly familiar. Call me crazy, but….”


“You’re crazy,” Suicide King says dismissively. “It’s not ‘odd’ that Ghost Machine version 2.0 would seem familiar. What’s odd is that you’re too stupid to realize that he reminds you of Ghost Machine version one. Really, Peter, I’d expect better from you, considering how long you’ve been on the SWF payroll.”


“I’m just saying, King….”


“The front office even paid you when you had that unfortunate case of herpes, and this is how you repay them?”


“What are you blathering on about?”


“Not to mention your notorious problems with the clap.”


Pete sighs.


“I’m sorry, friend, I just relish not being on Family-Friendly Lockdown anymore.”


“Whatever, King.”




Finally satisfied that the crowd has been sufficiently fluffed, Max King turns his attention back to Ghost Machine. He kneels down, grabbing his robotic opponent by his spandex bodysuit and pulling him to his feet. He underhooks both of Ghost Machine’s arms and effortlessly lifts him off the mat, throwing him back with a picture-perfect butterfly suplex! The crowd applauds as King rolls over to make the cover. Nick Soapdish drops down and counts






NO! Ghost Machine gets a shoulder up comfortably before the referee makes the third count. He sits up, but King quickly fixes his insolence with a forearm to the face.


Of course, ‘insolence’ presumes that Ghost Machine is, in fact, not a robot. If he is a robot, then even advances in Strong AI can’t yet give him the ability to feel emotions or act anything other than technically.


But I digress. The point is, Ghost Machine took a stiff forearm to the face. Or visual apparatus, as it were. His ability is being compromised by the beating, is, I guess, what I’d like you to take from this discussion.


Ghost Machine rolls to his stomach, having been programmed well enough to know that he cannot allow himself to be put on his shoulders. King grabs him around the waist, lifting the Machine powerfully off the mat and into the air. Once Ghost Machine is chest-high, King releases his grip and drops deftly to one knee as his foe falls sternum-first onto his cocked right leg! As he pathetically slumps off of King’s knee, Ghost Machine curls into a ball. King, for his part, simply flexes to egg the crowd on.


“That sternum-buster has GOT to be taking its toll on Ghost Machine,” Pete says. “Nothing, not even solid steel, can withstand this kind of beating.”


“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Suicide King retorts. “After all, Ghost Machine resisted all kinds of attacks from Ced Ordonez last week and barely broke a sweat.”


“Ced didn’t get any offense in!” Pete protests.


“He’s got some pretty bad body odor,” King offers weakly.


King rolls Ghost Machine onto his back once again, confident that this time he can make the pin. He drapes his chiseled body over Ghost’s chest as Nick Soapdish registers the count:






NO! Once again, the mechanical underdog kicks out and rolls to his stomach, making sure to avoid a second cover! King is clearly not pleased.


“The Icon is looking a bit frustrated,” Suicide King notes. “Judging by the facial expression, he’s either sure that should have been three, or slightly constipated.”


“It wasn’t a particularly slow count by seasoned veteran official Nick Soapdish, but King is known both for his temper and his self-assured nature. If he hit a high-impact move like that sternum buster and didn’t get the three, of course he’s going to be angry.”


“On the other hand, the catering spreads HAVE been pretty heavy on the cheese lately.”


Ghost Machine takes advantage of King’s slight distraction by crawling to the sidelines and rolling out under the ropes. He stands next to the apron, looking in at King, but shakes his head a few times to try to get his circuitry realigned. As he does, though, he catches sight of Kelly Connelly.


“Well,” says Pete jovially, “it looks like Version Two finally got Kelly Connelly into his visual apparatus. That’s got to be some pretty good input.”


“Of course it is,” King agrees. “But, unfortunately, it looks like BennerCorp saw fit to program Ghost Machine version 2.0 with a human male libido.”


Sure enough, Ghost starts moving toward the leggy beauty, even as she backs away from him. He reaches out, trying to grab at her natural Cs. What he isn’t expecting, however, is Max King stepping onto the apron and diving after him with a flying axehandle! Ghost Machine falls forward, stunned by the attack. He does get the last laugh, though… as he falls, he rudely gropes Kelly’s breasts with both hands. King gets even more angry when he sees this, and he whips Ghost Machine into the steel ringpost before reaching over and embracing the violated Connelly.


“That was inexcusable behavior on the part of Ghost Machine,” Pete says angrily. “He should know better than to sexually harass poor Kelly like that!”


“Oh, how would he know better? He’s just a machine, Pete. He’s at the mercy of his programmers, and if his programmers at BennerCorp saw fit to give him a strong sexual desire feature, then that’s not his fault. Why, that’s like asking me not to dazzle crowds, or like asking you not to have weeping sores all over your….”


“Stop that! I don’t know where you got the idea that I have herpes, but…”


“It’s not important who told me, Pete. What’s important is that it’s treatable.”


As Ghost Machine gets up, he realizes that being on the outside with an angry man who is both bigger and stronger than he is might not be the best way to go about the match. He stumbles around the ringpost and rolls back into the ring, watching outside as the livid King starts back into the squared circle. Nick Soapdish stands to the side as the wobbly Ghost Machine sprints at the unguarded Max King and hammers him with a big boot as he starts to his feet! As the boot hits King’s head, he stops in his tracks and collapses back down to one knee. Ghost Machine hits him with a stiff knee strike to keep him stunned, trying to make sure that he doesn’t let his opponent back to his feet. He takes a few steps back, still not surefooted but in good shape nonetheless. As King stays on one knee, trying to regain his senses, Ghost Machine runs at him. He plants one boot on King’s thigh and springs off it, nailing him on the side of the head with another big boot!


“SHINING BLACK,” screams Suicide King. “Shades of Jamie ‘Jay Dawg’ Drazon and ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins as Ghost Machine hammers Max King with the Shining Black!”


“No doubt an effective move,” Pete says. “He’s clearly been watching film, and BennerCorp programmed him to know how to deal with an opponent with such a striking advantage in the strength department. Can he hold to his strategy, though, or is he going to succumb to tunnel vision and keep making the same mistakes he made earlier in the match?”


As Max King tries to sit up, Ghost Machine kneels behind him. He reaches around, grabbing King’s neck and applying a reverse chinlock to the Superior Talent! The crowd settles in, realizing that with superhuman strength, Ghost Machine will be surprisingly well-adapted to keep the chinlock on for an extended period of time.


“Ghost Machine gets the reverse chinlock,” says Longdogger Pete, “and tightens the hold. It looks like we’re going to be here for a while, so… fans, we’ll be right back!”


SWF Smarkdown fades out to a commercial.




Kelly Connelly and Max King sit at a table in a restaurant, surrounded by well-dressed people.


“Isn’t it wonderful to be out on our night off?” Max asks, dapper as always in his stylish shirt, coat and tie. “I’m so glad we got a reservation here.”


Kelly smiles her dazzling smile, then takes a sip of the soda in front of her. She looks back up at Max, who says, “Mahna mahna.”


“Doot doo, de doo doo,” sings the crowd around the restaurant.


“Mahna mahna,” King says again.


“Doot doo de doo.”


“Mahna mahna.”


“Doot doo, de doo doo, de doo doo, de doo doo doo doo doot doot doo de doo.”


Kelly looks down at the soda and smiles.


“Wow. This cherry vanilla Dr Pepper really IS good!”


“Mahna mahna.”




“We’re back,” says Pete, “and surprisingly, not much has changed.”


Sure enough, Ghost Machine still has Max King locked in a reverse chinlock. Although he is in obvious pain, King struggles to free himself. He reaches back, throwing an elbow into Ghost Machine’s robotic equivalent of the human stomach. Ghost Machine reels backwards, standing to try to relieve some of the pressure of the blow. King, however, realizes that this could be his chance, and throws another elbow into Ghost Machine’s breadbasket! The Machine loosens his grip around King’s neck and backs away, but King quickly pivots and hammers his antagonist with a stepping forearm blow! Ghost Machine staggers backwards, finally coming to rest leaning against the ropes. King charges at him, enraged that his opponent would try to put him away with such a simple move, and throws an enormous clothesline! He’s not expecting Ghost Machine to duck, though, and so he gets caught completely by surprise when he gets sent over the top rope with a huge back body drop and splatters on the concrete!


“Brilliant programming by BennerCorp. Ghost Machine knows just how to deal with a charging bull like Max King, who seems to have just lost his killer instinct,” Suicide King says. “Shame, really.”


“I don’t think Landon Maddix thinks it’s a shame,” Pete says. “Whether he wants to admit it or not, Landon is much better off not having an angry giant chasing after him. A guy like Max King is going to be a boon to Maddix’s Tag Team Title shot, and in any case it’s always better not to have a guy as vicious as King wanting to rip your head off.”


King doesn’t look particularly vicious at the moment, however, as Ghost Machine adjusts his position. He looks out as King starts to pull himself to his feet using the apron. However, Ghost stops him by grabbing onto the middle rope and swinging out to dropkick him in the face! The crowd boos as King is stymied in his efforts to re-enter the ring, but he tries once again. Once again, though, he is met with the same sort of dropkick to the head, and drops back to the concrete. Unable to do anything else, he tries once more to get to his feet. This time, Ghost Machine meets him with a baseball slide dropkick, locking his ankles around King’s head in a short scissors grip. He log-rolls, and due to the principles of physics, King’s head is thrown in a broad arc over the cement floor! Where the head goes, of course, the body follows, and so he does a somersault through the air that sends him onto the cement floor once again with a splat. Ghost Machine stands up, looking out at the booing crowd. He stands without reaction to the booing, though he does look at referee Nick Soapdish.


“DOES NOT COMPUTE,” he says.


Soapdish merely shrugs.


Finally, King starts to roll back into the ring. Ghost Machine grabs him by the wrist and whips him to the ropes before jumping up. As King barrels at him, the Machine jumps into the air and throws an exceptionally sloppy dropkick that nonetheless connects and sends King reeling backwards. Ghost Machine stands back up and charges at King, nailing him with a running shotei that stuns him. Taking advantage of King’s shocked state, Ghost Machine grabs the Icon’s arm and whips him into the corner once again. Sensing an opening, Ghost charges at King, arm cocked for a second running palm strike! King sees him coming, though, and throws a boot into the air. As Ghost Machine connects with the kick, he staggers backwards, and King sprints forward to take him out with a running clothesline!


“Brutal!” calls Pete approvingly. “Simply incredible! Max King takes Ghost Machine to the mat with a lariat, and the complexion of this match has changed once again!”


King reaches down, lifting his limp adversary off the mat and holding him upside-down. He holds Ghost Machine for a few seconds before leaping into the air, cocking his legs and falling hard onto his bottom with a jumping piledriver! Ghost Machine collapses onto the mat on his stomach, only to be rolled to his back by King and covered for the fall.










“Unbelievable,” marvels Suicide King. “Ghost Machine version 2.0 survives Max King’s jumping piledriver!”


“How much longer can he last, though?” asks Pete. “He’s clearly breaking down.”


King smells blood in the water. He lifts Ghost Machine off the mat by the wrist and, with a powerful pump, starts an Irish whip! Ghost Machine plants his feet and holds back, then changes the direction of the whip to send Max to the ropes instead! As King bounces off the ropes, he leaves his feet and flings himself at Ghost Machine with a flying forearm! Ghost Machine sees it coming and quickly drops to his stomach, letting King fly harmlessly over him! King tucks and rolls as he lands, quickly getting back to his feet and sprinting toward the ropes once again as Ghost Machine stands up. He spins toward King, who charges at him like an angry bull. Processing his visual stimuli quickly, Ghost Machine reaches out and grabs King around the waist, then arches his back! With a powerful pop of his hips, the Machine sends Max King over his head with a powerful railgun suplex! King hits the mat hard, and Ghost Machine rolls onto him for the cover!








NO!!!! Max King kicks out, resilient and not yet done!


“Ghost Machine hits an unbelievable railgun suplex,” Pete says, “but Max King remains in the match. He’s still got the edge in terms of near-falls, and he’s still looking better off than his opponent.”


Ghost Machine doesn’t pay attention to Pete, however, and lifts King back to his feet. He ducks his head under King’s left arm and locks his hands around the Superior Talent’s waist, trying to hit the deadly backdrop driver that Ced Ordonez couldn’t fight out of last week. He starts the lift, but King sags his hips and lunges forward to grab the top rope! He blocks the suplex and clamps down on the side headlock. He turns toward the center of the ring and takes a few steps, then jumps up and takes Ghost Machine to the mat with a bulldog! King stands up and looks out at the crowd, satisfied. They cheer, as does Kelly Connelly. She jumps up and down, cheering her man on, and he smiles broadly at her.


“It looks like Max King is ready to wrap this one up,” says Longdogger Pete. “It’s all academic from here on out.”


King feels the same way, apparently. He reaches down, grabbing Ghost Machine and holding him over one shoulder as if to hit a spinebuster. Instead, he walks the Machine over to the corner and sets him roughly on the top turnbuckle. Cockily, King climbs up the ringpost, watching the cheering crowd as he does. Finally, he locks on a front facelock.


“It’s time for the Superb Plex,” Pete shills, clearly excited at King’s domination.


“Oh, come on,” protests Suicide King. “Aren’t you supposed to be the play-by-play man? Quit coaching King!”


King throws a fist into the air, working the crowd as Ghost Machine sits limply on the turnbuckle. However, when he tries to lift him for the superplex, Ghost Machine hooks both his legs under the top rope and holds on tight! King tries to lift him again, but this time, Ghost Machine throws a stiff headbutt at King’s nose! The Icon stands on the second rope, stunned by the headbutt, and teeters toward the mat. The Machine throws a shotei at King, knocking him back a step… but King keeps his balance and merely leaps onto the mat! Still in shock from the headbutt, he staggers around in a small circle… only to have Ghost Machine grab his head from behind! The crowd boos loudly as the upgraded rookie plants a knee against the back of King’s head and then drives himself forward off the turnbuckle! King falls forward, his face driven into the mat by Ghost Machine’s cocked knee! The crowd screams its disapproval as Suicide King nearly creams himself.


“FEATURE CREEP!” he screams. “GHOST MACHINE TWO POINT OH HITS THE FEATURE CREEP ONMAX KING! Beautiful counter to the Superb Plex!”


“That looked… familiar,” Pete says, as Nick Soapdish watches Ghost Machine roll King onto his back. Machine hooks the leg and makes the cover. Soapdish counts



















Just as the bell rings, King kicks out weakly, getting a shoulder up. He is only stunned, not knocked unconscious. Even so, Ghost Machine stands up, and Soapdish holds three fingers in the air!


“Your winner,” calls Funyon, “GHOST MACHINE VERSION TWO POINT OH!!!!!”


Soapdish raises Ghost Machine’s arm as some weird robot song starts up again.


“That wasn’t ‘Feature Creep,’ King,” Pete says accusingly. “That was a calf branding, and you know as well as I do that everyone who’s ever watched the SWF knows it best as the Ego Tr-”


“Ego? Ghost Machine doesn’t have an ego, Pete. He’s a robot, for God’s sake. He’s not even self-aware.”


Pete merely grumbles as Ghost Machine does the robot in the center of the ring. Max King rolls out of the ring, where Kelly Connelly waits to tend to his bruises.


“Nonetheless, a strong showing from Max King. He wrestled hard and didn’t make many mistakes,” Pete says. “Unfortunately, he was simply caught off-guard by the man from Parts Unknown.”


“No shame being beaten by a master,” Suicide King beams.


“Master? Ghost Machine is a rookie. Obviously, though, a talented rookie. Max King will avenge this loss,” says Pete.


“And I’m going to avenge the lousy food I got last night,” King says. “Right after this.”



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"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall," Funyon booms as the live feed returns to St. Louis. And quick camera sweep of the crowd shows a variety of sweaty, enthusiastic and inebriated fans, all suitably delighted that the SWF has graced their pitiful Middle-American lives with its presence.


"Introducing first," the SWF's veteran ring announcer continues, but is abruptly, nay, rudely cut off by a very distinctive noise...










As 'Megalomaniac' by Incubus starts up the Missouri fans rise to their feet in universal disdain; disdain that appears completely lost on the arrogant blonde figure that stalks out from behind the curtain onto the soundstage and thrusts his arms out at his sides.


"...from Huron, South Dakota," Funyon tries again, "he weighs in tonight at 224lbs; this is LANDON... 'LA CUCARRRRRRRACH-AAAAAAAAA...' MAAAAAAAAAAAAAD-DIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!!"


Maddix strides down the ramp towards the ring, but something about the cocky youth seems different. An unfamiliar bulge at the back of his sleeveless trenchcoat causes some speculation amongst the crowd as to whether Landon has 'got back'... but no, for the Next Generation suddenly whips out a small canvas sack and reaches into it, then begins presenting the crowd with soft plush cockroach toys!


"Like Frost and Leon Sharpe before him, Landon has gone merchandise mad," Pete comments, chin in one hand as he watches the antics of the former World Champion. "I wonder how long before he starts decanting Pepsi into red-and-black cans and starts trying to shill MaddixCola?"


"Given that you never got over enough to have ANY merchandise, I think you should consider proverbs about glass houses and the throwing of stones," Suicide King chides his partner. "On the other hand, plush cockroaches strike me as being about as much of a good marketing idea as the Mr. Bukkake waterpistol."


"Thank God Head Office never went through with that," Pete agrees, with some feeling.


Landon has now depleted his store of soft fluffy dolls (or not, depending on who you listen to - tune into the new series of MTV Cribs to see for yourself!) and has stepped into the ring where he removes his coat and tries to appear as badass as one can after you have handed out plush toys on television. Meanwhile Funyon raises the microphone again and waits for 'Megalomaniac' to cut out...


"And his opponent, from Saitama Prefecture, Japan..."


The harsh guitar riffs and stark drums of 'Teethgrinder' by Therapy? kick up over the pa system, prompting the Smarktron to flash up the letters 'TKO' in quick succession, interspersed with clips of TORU Takahara delivering a variety of high-impact and high-risk moves to an assortment of opponents (including a Shooting Star Press through a table on Landon Maddix in a parking lot, much to Landon's visible displeasure). Moments later another trenchcoated figure, this one in vinyl and with sleeves, steps out from the back. The strobing lights reflect off his mirror shades and give the big man a vaguely unworly appearance as the black lenses seem to flash while he stares down at the man who will soon be challenging him and his partner for the Tag Titles.


"...accompanied to the ring by Chris Card Enterprises," Funyon continues as the sharply-suited Card and the provocatively-dressed Natasha emerge in TORU's wake, "he weighs in tonight at 264lbs and is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions; this is 'The Japanese Hammer', TOOOOORRRRRUUUUUUU... TAKA-HAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"






Overall St. Louis seems more in favour of TORU than not, although that's probably because of the oppnent he's facing rather than any particularly likeable characteristics of the man himself. Halfway down the ramp TORU stops and holds one hand up, signalling for Card and Natasha to halt as well, then beckons to a nearby fan. The young girl, uncertainly clutching her Cockroach doll, hands it over to the big Saitaman at his insistent urging and watches him place it on the entrance ramp. TORU then beckons to Card, who brings his hands out from behind his back to reveal... a sledgehammer! Not only that, but a sledgehammer with the word 'Japan' written on in red paint!


"Hmm, do you think that might symbolise the 'Japanese Hammer' himself?" Pete asks Suicide King with faint interest.


"More than likely," King reponds, taking a slurp of PepsiMax.


TORU takes the hammer from Card, looks down to the ring to make sure that Maddix is watching... then begins pounding the ever-loving shit out of the cockroach doll! Of course, given that it's a soft plush toy it doesn't really take much damage, but then TORU picks it up off the ground, puts its head in his mouth and rips the sorry furry insect apart!




"He can't speak much English, but TORU never fails to get his point across," Pete says as the big man hands the sledgehammer back to Card and continues down to the ring where Maddix awaits him. Takahara quickly sheds his trenchcoat and vaults up to the apron before leaping athletically over the top rope and giving Landon the double bird, still with his sunglasses on. Landon doesn't rise to the insult and simply slaps himself on the arms a couple of times, possibly to increase circulation but more likely because he's seen Ric Flair do it and figures that a fourteen-time World Champion has to be worth imitating.




This isn't Lockdown and so there are no handshakes that need to be exchanged; instead the two men start to circle the moment referee Brian Warner calls for the bell. However, after a couple of seconds Landon stops moving and simply extends one hand upwards, seeming calling for a knucklelock!


"That's it, he's gone insane," King remarks. "I knew that much sugar couldn't be good for your health."




"Yeah, sorry," the Gambling Man mutters, then flashes a cheesy grin for the camera. "We all love Pepsi, and you should too!"


Regardless of Brian Applewhite's shameless playing to the sponsors, TORU seems surprised to say the least by Landon's challenge. After casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that the rest of Cucaracha Internacional aren't sneaking up on him or something the Japanese Hammer steps in and raises his own hand until the fingers mesh with those of his opponent. Landon brings his other hand up and TORU cautiously performs the same act... and then they start to strain! Landon is of course instantly overpowered, but not even he is stupid enough to go into a flat-out test of strength against a monster like Takahara, and he quickly brings up one foot to kick TORU's left hand away before twisting behind the big man with a hammerlock on his opponent's right arm! The hold seems more of an annoyance than anything else, but no matter how TORU throws back elbows with his left arm Landon ducks and weaves and avoids being hit. With a grin on his face Landon forces his opponent's arm upwards, seeking to cause pain... but TORU just stands there looking annoyed. Landon tries again... and TORU beckons referee Brian Warner towards him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder and trying to initiate a conversation in his broken English, presumably about his opponent's shortcomings! The lack of response infuriates Maddix and he spreads his feet apart to give himself a wide base to work from, then tries once more to get some mileage out of his hammerlock... and with Warner talking to TORU from close range and his field of vision therefore limited, Takahara lashes backwards with a mule kick that goes right up between Landon's spread legs and catches him in his happy-happy-joy-joy area!






"Well, that's one way to break a hold," King smirks as Landon lets out a strangled grunt and collapses to the canvas, holding himself. Warner instantly starts making accusations of TORU but the big man responds by slapping his stomach, indicating that he caught Maddix square in the midsection.


"It's not even physically possible to kick him there from that position!" Pete argues, determined to call it down the line despite his dislike of Maddix.


"It's not physically possible for Landon to wrestle, but he tries his best," King replies, not bothering to pretend.


TORU scoops the gasping Landon up off the mat and Irish whips him into the ropes, then as La Cucaracha returns he simply boosts the Huron native up into the air, leaving Maddix flailing like an inexpert skydiver. Unfortunately for Landon he shares another trait with said skydiver; namely, the fact that gravity will take it's toll.




However, most skydivers don't find themselves landing ribs-first across the knee of a big Japanese man. If they did, the sport would probably see a sharp drop-off in popularity.


"What a gutbuster!" Pete bellows as Landon rolls away, clutching his chest and trying desperately to suck in air. "With just two moves - one of them admittedly illegal - TORU seems to have knocked all the fight out of Landon Maddix!"


TORU seems to think so as well; at least, the big man takes the two steps needed to catch up with his opponent, then drops to the mat to make a cover that Warner counts for...


















...but Landon kicks out moments after two, proving that he's not nicknamed the Cockroach just for his six legs and shiny chitinous shell, but also for how hard it is to keep him down! TORU seems unimpressed and peels his opponent off the mat once more before delivering a scoop slam to put him right back down there. Having presumably now made up his mind that yes, that IS where he wants Landon, TORU heads for the nearest set of turnbuckles and begins to climb. Landon seems perfectly placed for an Air TORU Moonsault... at least, that is until Maddix desperately scrambles to his knees and pushes Warner into the ropes, causing TORU to lose his footing and crotch himself on the top buckle while facing out towards the crowd!






"Maddix sucks? I haven't seen that video on the internet!" King says in feigned surprise.


"Urgh," Pete gags. "King, I know this isn't Lockdown, but please! There may be people of a delicate disposition watching!"


"You mean," King replies in the manner of one peeling back a scab to see just how much it hurts, "that the mental image of Landon Maddix performing fella-"




TORU is in severe difficulties on the top rope, and now it's Landon's chance to capitalise. Ignoring Brian Warner's bleatings about being shoved into the ropes Maddix picks himself up, takes a couple more breaths to steady himself, then moves to the ropes next to the turnbuckle where TORU is so uncomfortably perched. Before the Japanese Hammer can properly recover his composure Landon suddenly vaults up off the second rope, twisting in midair so that his knees come to rest in TORU's back while his hands wrap around the big man's head. Then of course gravity does its work again, but this time it is Landon who uses it to his advantage as, despite the fact that he lands on the canvas with TORU's weight crashing down on top of him, he performs the mother of all Mount Crushmores on the unfortunate Tag Champion!




"DEAR GOD!" LDP bellows in shock and awe as TORU spasms away from the impact zone and comes to rest across the bottom rope. "Landon may be cheating, conniving, cocksure and..." the Longdogger searches for more alliteration, comes up short and settles for "...downright odd at times, but he is a master of invention! How in the world is TORU going to continue the match after that!?"


"You're exaggerating, as usual," King snorts. "TORU is a trained professional, and he'll not only get up but he'll kick Maddix's ass when he does so!"


King's faith is touching, but apparently misplaced; TORU isn't showing any signs of getting back to his feet to administer the ass-kicking that is so richly deserved, and Landon knows it. After taking a moment to catch his own breath the kid from South Dakota rolls TORU onto his back, hooks one shoulder behind each of his opponent's knees and then pushes forwards into a pin...







...Maddix hastly places both feet on the second rope, looking for that extra advantage...













...but TORU kicks out! With his front end now unsupported Landon falls flat on his face, to the amusement of the crowd but the disgust of Brian Warner as he sees how he has been made a fool of. Never one to give up easily, Landon pushes himself up and then does a few more push-ups in an effort to convince Warner that his feet were simply raised to aid his working out, but his feigned enthusiasm wanes in the face of the referee's glare and he gets back to his feet looking slightly embarrassed. Embarrassment does not come naturally to the Cockroach however, and as TORU gets back to his knees Landon delivers a vicious slap that sends the Japanese Hammer's shades skittering across the canvas!




If TORU had the ability to breathe then such disrespect would have been met with a few choice kneestrikes, but as it is the big man is unable to respond. This seems to Landon to be the perfect opportunity to show just how far he's come with this whole technical wrestling lark and he cracks his knuckles before preparing to slap on some fancy hold and make the big galoot tap...


...but he draws a total blank, and fails to think of anything.




Landon looks around nervously, seeking advice. Granted, there is a technically proficient wrestler standing at ringside; unfortunately it's Chris Card, and they haven't got on for over a year now. No, he won't find any help there and neither Hawke nor Johnson are anywhere in sight. To make matters worse TORU is starting to breathe more easily and he places one foot on the canvas, ready to surge upwards off his knees and make life very painful for Maddix... so Landon does the only thing he can think of.


He applies a cravate.




It's a cheap way out, and no amount of grinning and "YEAH BABY! TAP YOU BITCH!" is going to change that. For all the wrenching he gives to TORU's neck, it's keeping the Japanese Hammer in one place but not much more. Landon steps on the back of the big man's left knee to prevent him for forcing his way upwards, and prepares to wait. Sooner or later, this hold will do some damage. It has to, eventually. Maybe TORU will go to sleep?


"King, I've seen many things in my career as a wrestler and an announcer," LDP remarks, "however, this has to be the first time I've seen a competitor apply a hold and hope to make his opponent submit through an attack of cramp."


"Personally I've been enjoying this new, 'technical genius' style of Landon's," King responds, "it's freaking hilarious! I haven't had this much fun since Korgath tried breakdancing at the 2004 Christmas party!"


Maddix is doing his best, but the cravate really isn’t doing much. In fact, if Landon had been thinking clearly instead of being rushed he might have considered applying a hold that limited TORU’s breathing or focused on the midsection to follow up the devastating Mount Crushmore. Instead he continues with the cravate.






Maddix grins at the crowd’s reaction, but at the end of the day he’s going to need to do something to develop from here and his steadily working brain has clicked onto a little connection. TORU is Japanese. So many of those many, many videos that JJ and Jay forced him to watch were of Japanese wrestling. And that one guy, what was his name? Oh yes; Kawada.


“It looks like Landon has had an idea,” Pete comments as Landon stops standing on TORU’s leg and draws his own leg back, “what’s he about to try here…?”










Landon fires kick after kick into TORU’s unprotected face, then releases his opponent and spins away, raising his arms in delight as TORU drops to his hands and knees! Unfortunately the big man’s incapacitation lasts only for a few moments as he rises back up to his feet like Godzilla, bleeding slightly from the nose, and takes two massive strides to grab Landon with one hand and spin him around. From there the Japanese Hammer buries his knee into his opponent’s gut, then grabs Maddix’s head in both hands and drives knees into Landon’s face, alternating legs as he does so!










Landon doesn’t fare as well as TORU did, and La Cucaracha slumps backwards to the mat with his eyes distinctly unfocused while the crowd roar their approval. TORU drops down and makes the cover, prompting Brian Warner to make the count…


















…but Landon’s disorientation doesn’t cause him to lose a step when it comes to kicking out, and the former World Champion fires his shoulder off the canvas to stay in the match. TORU doesn’t waste any time arguing with the referee, instead getting back to his feet and heading for the nearest turnbuckles again. This time he steps through the ropes first and climbs to the top whilst facing into the ring in order to make sure that Landon doesn’t play a trick on him again. Maddix remains flat out on the canvas as Takahara reaches the top rope, and the Japanese Hammer leaps off with his right knee extended to deliver the TORU Hammer…




…but Landon moves, and TORU only finds mat! Maddix reaches up from behind his opponent and grabs for a schoolboy pin, then brings TORU over and pushes his shoulders onto the mat…







…Landon grabs the tights for some extra leverage…














-but TORU still kicks out! Landon doesn’t waste any time appealing to the referee either, instead going to TORU’s eyes the moment the Japanese Hammer turns around, then grabbing a small package and rolling backwards into another pin…



















-but still TORU won’t go down, and Landon looks a little frustrated. As TORU angrily swipes at his eyes Landon gets back to his feet and waits for the Japanese Hammer to follow him, then lashes out with his right boot and fires a Maddix-Kick right into TORU’s jaw. The big man wobbles but doesn’t go down, so Landon helps him by wrapping his right arm across Takahara’s chest and clasping his left hand that has reached around behind the big man’s head, then suddenly dropping backwards to drive TORU headfirst into the mat with the Complete Shot!




TORU literally rebounds off the mat and rolls onto his back, prompting Landon to make another cover…



















-but still TORU won’t go down, and Landon is starting to get a little edgy! In desperation he wraps one hand around TORU’s throat and begins to choke his opponent, forcing Brian Warner to make his requisite count…
















Landon breaks his choke just before the disqualification point then realises that actually, there might be a better alternative. He grabs TORU by the hair and pulls him into a sitting position, then quickly applies a front facelock choke and wraps his legs around the Japanese Hammer to apply the Wet Cement!


“Landon taking a leaf out of Tom Flesher’s book,” Pete exclaims as the Cockroach squeezes as tightly as he can, “Landon retired Tom Flesher-”


“-no, he picked up a fluke pin that coincided with Tom decided to hang up his boots,” Suicide King corrects his partner.


“Well, one way or the other, Landon’s taken a liking to this hold that Flesher favoured,” Pete carries on, then uncharitably adds “probably because it’s so simple.”


Simple it might be, but even in the hands of an unskilled amateur like Landon, it’s also pretty effective. Landon leans backwards, clinches his arms together and basically does everything he can to try and make the hold work better and quicker. TORU struggles but can’t seem to shake him off; however when referee Warner steps in to do a ‘drop test’ on Takahara’s right arm the big man responds by using that arm to give him the finger!




Warner backs off hurriedly as TORU begins swinging blows into Landon’s ribcage; they don’t have that much force behind them but they still seem to be unsettling La Cucaracha. Not as much as the Japanese Hammer’s next ploy though, which is to reach up and claw at Landon’s face! Landon yells in alarm and instinctively relaxes his grip with both arms and legs, trying to scramble away from his opponent. TORU manages to roll over onto his front, but Landon realises his mistake and grabs the hold again, this time trapping TORU’s right arm as if he was going for a half-hatch suplex. Maddix applies the bodyscissors again as well, but it’s too late; TORU has his legs under him now, and as Landon’s expression turns to one of horror TORU starts to power his way upwards, lifting Landon bodily off the mat!


“What a display of raw power,” Longdogger Pete yells, “I haven’t seen anything like this since John Duran vs. Tom Flesher in that Cage match in 2004!”


As the Notorious One picks up a quick royalty cheque Landon squeezes tighter, hoping to cut TORU off at the pass, or nip him in the bud, or just do something to regain control. Nothing doing though, as TORU manages to orientate himself in the ring before barrelling forwards at top speed and driving Landon backfirst into the turnbuckles!










That causes Landon to release the hold; permanently. The Next Generation sprawls to the mat gasping like a fish who’s just found out that healthy fresh air is not all it’s cracked up to be, while TORU sits back down and shakes his head to try and clear it of the pounding sensation that’s assailing his senses. Brian Warner debates whether to start a double count, but before he can make up his mind TORU takes the decision from him by grabbing a nearby ring rope and using it to haul himself to his feet. The Japanese Hammer is still unsteady on his feet but he wobbles away from Landon, then drops into a crouch by the far ring ropes. Maddix has managed to catch at least some of his breath now and he pushes himself up in turn, then turns around…




“SPEAR~!” LDP bawls at the top of his lungs as TORU explodes across the ring to drive his shoulder deep into Landon’s gut, “TORU Takahara nearly cut Landon in half with that! My God, Maddix’s ribs must be pulverised!”


They might well be, but such a sudden surge of movement has left TORU feeling a bit woozy, and it takes a couple of moments before the Tag Champion can cover Landon…



















-but now it’s Landon’s turn to kick out mere milliseconds before the final third count! Chris Card is unhappy at ringside as he thinks that Maddix’s shoulders were clearly down for three (or at least, that’s his story), but Brian Warner remains firm. With his newly-debuted rib-crushing move having failed to work TORU decides to go for an old favourite, and he hauls Landon up into a standing headscissors before underhooking both arms!


“Tiger Driver!” King calls with relish, “this one is over!


No it isn’t. King has made the rookie mistake of calling the move before it’s been performed, and all that training that Landon did with Hawke seems to pay off as he manages to twist away from TORU’s grasp and comes up behind the bigger man with a hammerlock! TORU doesn’t give him a chance to go anywhere with that and backs into Landon hard, sandwiching him against the turnbuckles again, then turns around and grabs Maddix to Irish whip him across the ring to the opposite corner! Before Landon has even hit home TORU is charging after him, but Landon finds the energy to jump to the top rope and then spring back off, twisting in midair as he does so to land a mushroom stomp on the back of TORU’s head and send the big man careering into the turnbuckles faster than Takahara had intended. TORU hits chestfirst and staggers backwards, and Landon is there to capitalise with a Mount Crushmore that sends TORU writhing across the mat in pain. However, Landon doesn’t go for the pin and instead squats down in the corner, then motions for TORU to ‘get up’.


“It looks like Landon is setting up a spear here,” LDP says in some confusion, “but I don’t think he really has the mass-”


Not a spear. As TORU gets to one knee Landon sets off at a sprint, vaulting off his opponent’s leg to deliver the SHINING WIZARD~!




…but TORU got both arms up and blocked the knee! The impact hurts Takahara’s arms but Landon struggles to retain his feet, limping away in a circle as his right knee protests. With Maddix facing away from him TORU sees his chance and grabs Landon around the waist before bringing him up as if for a back suplex, then transitioning in midair to a chokeslam that drives Landon down into the mat!




“Ore Ga TORU!” Pete yells as TORU wearily rises to his feet again, “but TORU isn’t going for the cover!”


No, he isn’t. Despite his lack of success there so far the big man is heading for the top rope again. Once there he pauses for a moment, seeming to check, but Landon doesn’t appear to have anything else left to give. He won’t be dodging this one.


And so, with a deep breath and to the accompaniment of a few hundred camera flashes, TORU Takahara leaps into the air and performs a stunning backflip before crashing down on top of Landon Maddix with a Shooting Star Press.
























“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match,” Funyon booms, “TORRRRRRRUUUUUUUU… TAKA-HAAAAARRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!!”


As ‘Teethgrinder’ kicks up again TORU rolls out of the ring where Card and Natasha are ready to greet him with Tag Title, shades and vinyl trenchcoat. Meanwhile Landon starts to stir, half-conscious but still aware of the pain in his ribs.


“TORU Takahara has managed a major victory here with this singles win over a former World Champion,” Pete exclaims, “but will this have any effect when Landon Maddix and his unlikely partner Max King challenge for the Tag Titles? But don’t go away fans, because we have much, much more action for you still to come tonight!”


“Nothing as satisfying from my point of view though,” King says sadly as the camera focuses on the battered Maddix.






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The SWF camera searches the Savvis Center located in one of many wrestling capitals of the world, St. Louis, Missouri for the not so conventional fan made signs. For years the SWF has prided itself on the crowds broad mindset. And tonight is no different.






And a certain warning to the World Champion.




Perhaps, but can he float like a butterfly.


“Welcome back folks and as most are well aware by now, we have a third individual at our little shrine here.”


“Shrine. “YouwannnaknowhowIknowyou’regay” Pete that had to be the dumbest thing you could say in the last five years. Even more idiotic than implying that you saw potential in that machine, Ghost Machine.”


The voices of the SWF speak on any and every subject that is barely wrestling related. Which leaves a former wrestler open for reply.


“But isn’t he a man.”


“Hahahha. Judge you kill me, really. Yes folks tonight we have at our announce table “The Judge” William Hearford.”


“Glad to be here, guys. I’m quite excited for the next match that involves a certain disobedient rookie that hasn’t quite matured the way I would have liked him to.”


And who would be dumb enough to warrant an insult from the retired Judge…this man.


“I’m Alive” by Disturbed blasts over the PA as a white flashing like illuminates the arena as the crowd waits for the cocky rookie to appear. The crowd waits in slight anticipation as Mr. Coyote takes his sweet time emerging from the back. The audience continues to tap their foot, and even perform the dreaded wave, which signals the fans have lost interest. Well at least for a little bit.




Suddenly the heelish youth finally emerges from the mysterious backstage area with expensive cell phone intact. Coyote continues to verbally half-heartedly apologize to the person on the other line while posing in front of the audience as the chorus begins to play.


The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away

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

To change myself, I'd rather die

Lonely, we'll not understand

I will make the greatest sacrifice

You can't predict where the outcome lies

You'll never take me alive

I'm alive

I'm alive

I'm alive


And the SWF newcomer continues to take his sweet time jawing at the audience while kindly speaking to the person on the expensive cell phone. After what could only be described as moments that felt like days, the young former reality TV show contestant makes it into the squared circle.


“Introducing weighing in tonight at 225 lbs, and hails from Brunswick, Georgia. KEVIN COYOTE!!!!”


Funyon does his thing as the cocky upstart decides to hand the phone to one of the pretty young ladies at ringside that simply stores it away, but not before the young man tries to get said woman’s telephone number.


“I love this kid. His attitude fits that of a prince perfectly. Not quite a King, but with time it will all come together for him.” Suicide King believes.


“King I agree with part of that sentiment. In time Kevin will be a tremendous athlete, but I fear his attitude will never mature with his in ring skill. I’ve tried to help the kid out, but so far he’s ignored me like viewers ignore Court TV.” The Judge rules.


Speaking of which…what channel does SWF come on…PBS?


“I’m Born!!!”


The crowd immediately rises to their feet, as the first word of the trifecta appears over the more expensive than the Titantron…Smarktron, baby.


“I’m Alive!!!”


The crowd continues to cheer as they await the cruiserweight duo built on one member’s hatred for creative, and the other’s curiosity.


“I Breathe!!!!!”


Oh it’s on.




Suddenly the crowd is smacked with a dose of “Black Label” one of the many heavy as shit Lamb of God tunes. The fans anticipation continues to build along with the sheer heaviness of straight edger’s theme music. Like Coyote the two cruiserweights don’t mind making a scene, but opposite of Coyote the duo doesn’t try to piss off the crowd with a simple touch of the dial.


Ok at least one of them doesn’t try to anger the crowd.


And that one is not the first one out. The black curtain flies backward as the “hoody” wearing straight edger pauses before skipping his usual pose at the top of the ramp. For what could possibly be the first time in his life, Spike actually lets the spotlight shine on someone else…the new cruiserweight champion.




The Savvis Center explodes as the Unique Youth emerges to deafening cheers. The cruiserweight title firmly wrapped around his waist shines like the sun on warm sunny day. Visibly grinning, the youth sprints down the ramp as Spike strides behind the overanxious youth. Zyon leaps on the ring apron as the NEW Straight Edge Sensation circles the ring…before both men leap/roll into the ring and finish off their respective taunts that have been done dozens of times.


“And his opponents. Hailing respectively from Hollywood, California and Elkhart, Indiana. At a combine weight of 420 lbs, HOLLYWOOD SPIKE JENKINS and the SWF Cruiserweight Champion ZYYYYYON!!!!”


Funyon finishes his duty before immediately leaving the ring as “Black Label” fades to nothingness. While the cruiserweight duo discuss a simple strategy, the over arrogant Kevin Coyote shows Judge his brand new T-shirt that reads….


“Injustice For All…Or Maybe Just Kevin Coyote.”


Anger, disrespect, spite, and arrogance…hey I like it.


Anyway the unbelievably popular referee Nick Soapdish takes the youth’s newly won title before calling for the bell.








Immediately Coyote makes an impact as he takes a few steps toward the curious duo that can just stare at the former reality TV contestant….






The crowd echoes as one Kevin Coyote just laid the smack down on the new cruiserweight champion. Zyon calmly rubs his reddened face as he and his partner share a few words before it is quite evident on who will start the match.


“See guys that is just a tiny example of the man that is Kevin Coyote.” Judge refers to the smack heard around the arena.


Zyon and Coyote circle the ring traditionally before both decide to shoot into a lock up position where the rookie must have the advantage. Both men joust for position before Coyote drops down for a double-legged takedown on the cruiserweight, but doesn’t receive two legs for his trouble…he does get one though.




Some portions of the crowd looks away as a shocked Coyote holds his beat red chest area where the side of Zyon’s shoe is imprinted on. Slightly miffed, the creative control hater not named Spike rises back to his feet as Zyon challenges the rookie to lock up again. Coyote quickly obliges as he shoots forward catching the air in the atmosphere as the uber quick Unique Youth slips behind Coyote before locking the rookie in a reverse waist lock. The arrogant rookie no longer has time to smile at the crowd or chat on the phone as he tries to conquer past Zyon’s waist lock with a right elbow that completely misses. So Coyote does the conventional thing and attempts to strike the youth with a left elbow, which also misses. Quickly sick of being on the defensive, Zyon jabs the SWF upstart in the kidney doubling the kid over. Taking a step back, Zyon bounces off the far ropes before charging back and leaping up and over the doubled over near six footer as he latches on to his opponent’s head using the momentum to drive the rookie into the mat face first!!!!


“Zyon quickly establishing his dominance in the early going.” Pete says.


“Dominance??? Do I even need to respond to that?”


Back in the ring, Coyote clutches his face as he stands back on his feet only to be caught with a forearm from the cruiserweight champion.




Kevin takes a step back as Zyon takes the initiative and charges the rookie who surprisingly surprises the youth with a hip toss. To Coyote’s chagrin, Zyon floats through the air before landing perfectly on his feet. Swiftly the youth grips the top rope before springboarding on to the middle rope and diving backward before spinning his legs toward the wide-eyed rookie, locking his legs around Coyote’s head before taking him over with a wicked hurricarana. Open for the challenge Coyote pops right back up to his feet and charges Zyon who takes a step back as the rookie attempts a running boot that the cruiserweight easily catches. Hopping on one foot Coyote doesn’t have the leverage to attempt a momentum changing enziguri so he is practically defenseless as Zyon twirls the rookie around. Performing a complete 180-degree turn it is Coyote who sneaks in the offense by pushing Zyon against the ropes. The youth bounces off the ropes and quickly finds himself on the mat after a snap power slam!!!!


“See Pete I told you to give Coyote some time.”


The rookie rises back to his feet before looking down on the fallen cruiserweight champion as he forces Zyon back to his feet. Lazily, Coyote attempts to toss Zyon over the top ropes, and succeeds!!!


Or so he thinks.


The trash talking rookie turns toward the announce table located right outside the ring where he verbally abuses Judge!


“Now do you see KING? This kid just cannot concentrate.” Judge explains while pointing behind Coyote.


His brow tightens as Coyote slowly turns around to see Zyon leap into the air via springboard as he performs a flashy yet simply forward flip before colliding back first into Kevin Coyote. Both men crash to the mat as Zyon take a bit more time rising to his feet, but reaches said feet while Coyote can only think about what to do next. Noticing that the rookie has yet to stand up, Zyon sprints forward before attempting a sensational standing shooting star press that connects with the rookie’s knees!!!




The crowd echoes as the precious oxygen is driven out from Zyon’s lungs. Coyote quickly rises to his feet while pointing to his head in a taunting gesture before pulling the youth into his grasp. He wraps his feet around Zyon’s before grabbing over the youth’s shoulder from behind. Firmly in control, Coyote whips backward dropping Zyon with a crisp Russian leg sweep. Smartly, the rookie ignores the elder located at the announce table, and opts to pull Zyon into a front face lock. Stupidly, Coyote does indeed take the time to scream at his teacher/enemy before hoisting Zyon in the air. The youth with a moment or two before impact flips over and lands on his feet before driving the newcomer into the back with a fluid neck breaker!


“Beautiful suplex counter by the Unique Youth.”


“This is painful to watch. First his mouth gets him in trouble, and obviously with me out here the fool refuses to concentrate.” Judge lays down the law.


Zyon rises back to his feet before lifting the rookie to his feet, and receives a brutal eye rake for his achievement. Momentarily blind, Zyon swings wildly for the rookie who laughs at the former rookie. Zyon swings again as the chuckling heel…




“He got him???”


King is just about as confused as the SWF upstart who grabs his jaw before kicking Zyon in the sternum. Wasting no time, Coyote once again locks Zyon in a front face lock before hoisting the youth up and over with a snap suplex. Hoping for the upset, Coyote rolls on top of the cruiserweight champion.









Zyon kicks out as Spike patiently waits for his time to come. Zyon attempts to get back on his feet, but the tenacious Kevin Coyote places a firm boot to the head of his opponent before forcing him back to his feet. The rookie calmly lifts Zyon into the air attempting a textbook body slam, but the resourceful youth simply floats over. Slightly agitated, Coyote quickly turns around falling into a Zyon scoop…


“See there is another problem. Coyote should have known that the spotty Zyon had the advantage, but no he had to recklessly turn around, and now look…”


Judge critiques one of his students as Zyon scoops the rookie into an Aero DRIVVAAAA attempt, but Coyote shocks the audience by performing a float over himself!! Grinning from ear to ear the young upstart arrogantly taps Zyon on the shoulder, who instinctively turns around…


AND GETS BLASTED by a devastatingly destructive clothesline that DECAPITATES THE YOUTH!!!!




The crowd cheers as the impact almost forces Zyon into a full back flip.


“Check mat Judge. Your disappointing pupil just won the match…oh yeah!” King brags.


Coyote rolls the limp cruiserweight champion on his back before going for the cover.



























“Ah the joys of a handicap match.” Judge smiles back at King.


Before referee Nick Soapdish could count Zyon’s shoulders to the mat, Spike simply comes in and breaks the pin up like it was nobodies business. Enraged Coyote blows right past the ref and charges the straight edger who drops the rookie with a no look super kick!!!!




The crowd cheers as Coyote may have just had his jaw realigned. While the rookie rolls around on the mat because of a facial agony, the Unique Youth inches his way toward a fresh Jenkins…before making the tag!!!!


“Well King, I’m sure Judge and I can agree that things just got bad for Mr. Kevin Coyote.” Pete nods.


Spike enters the ring to a positive reaction as a fatigued Coyote rolls his eyes toward the equally cocky Hollywood native…


Before throwing a high roundhouse hoping for a one-shot knockout blow.




It was one shot all right. Coyote circles the atmosphere before meeting Spike face to face once again. The straight edger quickly wraps his arm around the chest of his opponent before dropping to the mat knees first!




Coyote falls to the mat clutching his throat after the Minor Threat! Spike in firm control doesn’t stop there as he latches on to Coyote’s arm and pulls the arrogant youth to his wobbly feet. Being a firm veteran himself, the straight edger unleashes a punishing chop on the cocky youth.






Coyote tries to back away, but Spike just pulls him back into yet another torturing chop.






Either completely bored or annoyed at the Ric Flair tributes, Spike Irish whips Coyote toward the turnbuckle. With no control of his blinding speed, Coyote falls into the turnbuckle back first before dizzily staggering from the unforgiving corner. Tired and slightly confused, Coyote falls into the arms of his opponent before being tossed up and over to the cold canvas with a Spike Jenkins railgun belly-to-belly suplex. Coyote clutches his back as Jenkins quickly forces the rookie back to his feet.


“Now guys this is a superstar that could easily help teach Coyote the wrestling mechanics he needs to truly learn the sport.”


“Judge you do realize that Spike hasn’t done anything with his career since his lose to our wonderful World Champ, Magnefico.”


King’s statement happened in the past as we in the present witness can witness Spike put a firm whipping on the newest addition to the SWF. Coyote uses the ropes for leverage as he pulls himself to his feet before sauntering over to Jenkins who scoops Coyote on to his shoulder before charging forward and dropping the youngster face first on the unforgiving top turnbuckle pad. Reeling from the impact Coyote is certainly on spaghetti legs as he walks away from his opponent. Uncharacteristically, Spike loses his focus and charges the defenseless rookie. Shocking the New Straight Edge Sensation, Coyote takes a step forward facing the former cruiserweight champion and hoists him into the air before performing a 90 degree twirl as he drops the straight edger with a textbook spine buster!!!!


Spike’s face grimaces as in his heart he knows that he made a stupid mistake that could have just cost his team the victory. Coyote crawls over to the fallen Spike as he attempts to get the victory via pinfall.










Spike kick out proving he has sufficient energy to continue, but Coyote on the other hand is drenched in sweat. The cocky rookie strips down a little by disrobing his blue jean jacket as he randomly tosses it to the outside. The youngster then removes his brand new T-shirt that disrespects the Judge. Drenched in sweat, Coyote looks over to his enemy at the announce table before tossing the drenched T-shirt toward Judge!


“That disrespectful little bastard!!”


Judge attempts to leave the announce position, but Suicide King and Longdogga Pete whisper for the road agent to keep his cool.


Back in the ring Coyote turns toward his now standing opponent.


His now spinning opponent.


His now firing off an elbow opponent that connects to the jaw of Kevin Coyote.


“ROOOOAAARING elbow.” Pete does his best Joey Styles impression.


Coyote staggers backward clutching his jaw as the main camera notices a sign in the background.


“Kids don’t steal other writers lines and try to make them your own.”


Public Service Announcements Rule!!!


Back in the ring the camera gets a shot of Spike who stares down Kevin Coyote who is currently on dream street. With the ropes being the only object to keep him on his feet, Coyote takes a deep breath before lunging at Spike with a closed right hand…that connects.


“Lot’s of fight left in Coyote.” Pete acknowledges.


Spike’s head snaps back multiple times as the young upstart continues to try and fight back while his teacher watches on from less than 100 feet away. The rookie reels back for a powerful left, but instead his momentum gets absolutely tranquilized as Spike intelligently kicks the youngin’ in the sternum. Spike hooks the rookie in a front face lock before opting to hoist him in the air until he is completely vertical. The straight edge conditioning shows as the lighter Jenkins holds Coyote in the air for a moment before spreading his legs and slamming the young pro wrestler to the mat with a falcon arrow suplex.


“Look at this nonsense. Spike is breaking out the move set simply because the kid may have a tiny ego.”




The former number one contender for ELM’s World Title pulls Coyote back to his feet and attempts to whip the youngster into the ropes, but the cocky one refuses to give up as he firmly counters the Irish whip into a short arm knee lift. Coyote latches on to the head of Mr. Jenkins before swinging and dropping the former cruiserweight champion with a swinging neck breaker. Sweat continues to spill down Coyote’s face as his conditioning is truly being tested by taking on two of the better cruiserweights in the company not named JJ Johnson. Instead of keeping on his opponent like a bad stench the arrogant youth acts more like an annoying mosquito, which keeps buzzing toward the older mosquito. In other words Kevin Coyote continues to trash talk the road agent as he retreats to a turnbuckle and stares at a wounded Spike. Once on his feet Spike strides toward his opponent who has decided to fall into a dead sprint before he chooses to dive at Spike with a spear!!!


However, the veteran side steps the slicing spear sending the newcomer to the outside! Coyote immediately pops to his feet and faces…Judge???


“Look he’s not even worried about his opponent…fool.”


Judge speaks his mind toward Coyote who looks ready to challenge the retired wrestler turned road agent.




Suddenly the crowd starts to cheer frantically as Judge points to the sky. The verbal user of words like “dog” and “babe” turns around just in time to see a recovered Zyon spring into the air with an Asai moonsault that causes the Cruiserweight champion to crash down on to the fighting heel!!




The crowd chants as the youth quickly lifts a stunned Coyote on to his feet and rolls him into the ring. Spike quickly moves away from distracting referee Nick Soapdish to pinning the rookie technician to the mat before dropping bombs on to the face of the eccentric rookie.








Coyote attempts to cover up the best he can as Spike goes out of his way to wrestle a brawling ground and pound style. Surprisingly enough, Coyote may have more experience in the ground and pound than Spike, but currently he isn’t and can’t show it. The rookie though slides his body toward the ropes with his feet before finally grabbing the rope with a free hand.




The crowd truly wanted to see the rookie get a whooping that his parents probably never gave him when he was younger. Referee Soapdish forces Spike backward, which allows Coyote to rise to his feet and retreat from the menacing Jenkins???




“What a cheap shot!!!” Pete complains.


The rookie nonchalantly strikes Zyon with an elbow, which causes the Unique Youth to lose his temper and run into the ring.


It’s simply cause and effect.


The effect is as referee Nick Soapdish is occupied with Zyon, Kevin Coyote bring the HEEL TACTICS by placing a firm kick to the groin of Hollywood Spike Jenkins!!!!


“Now that was brilliant. Did you teach him that yourself Judge.” King arrogantly wonders aloud.


Judge remains speechless as Coyote drops to the mat trying to fool the ref into thinking that years of living the life modeled after Magic Johnson has finally gotten to the man from Hollywood. Jenkins continues to try as work his way through the stomach churning pain only to have Coyote force the veteran back to his feet. Wasting no time Coyote pulls the straight edger into a front face lock, and then dropping backward with a textbook DDT that shoves Spike’s head into the mat in an awkward angle!!!! Coyote pleads to Sony and other possible phone companies that Spike chooses to stay down. The rookie obviously goes for the cover…













Spike is all “No Pobo” as he kicks out leaving Coyote to almost have to call his mama…or his lawyer. The rookie cautiously lifts Spike back to his feet…only to eat a powerful European uppercut that surprises the youngster!!!




The uppercut echoes as Spike notices that Zyon’s hand is extended. As much as Jenkins would like to take a chance at teaching the arrogant heel a lesson, he refuses to revert to the old selfish Spike Jenkins that would paralyze a superstar and not think twice. Coyote though wishes to keep Spike in the ring…and Zyon.


Well he just had his and slapped.




The crowd cheers as the youth hurries back into the ring and pounds on a tired Coyote with multiple forearms. With knowledge of the brawling skill, Kevin attempts to get up a defense, but the rookie has no knowledge of Zyon gravitational limitations. Coyote wildly swings at Zyon who ducks and leaps DIRECTLY to the top rope, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.


Then again Zyon’s a pro wrestler. He’s rich…bitch.


Enough tape study could help Coyote avoid this move, but instead Zyon doesn’t have to worry about a SUPER DRAGON SUPLEX as he glides through the air with a corkscrew body attack that lands flush on Coyote’s exposed frame!!


“He calls that the No Regard, Judge.”


“I don’t like the flippy floppy stuff, but if it gets the job done…then I have no real complaints.”


Zyon immediately covers the stunned rookie hoping to end this mess of a handicap match and move on to better things.

















THR….shoulder up.


Yes, Zyon could move on to better things. But for Kevin Coyote, right now is the best thing going for him. The youth turns his back to Coyote as he waits for the rookie to get back to a vertical base. Obviously the match can’t continue unless Coyote gets back to his tired legs, so he obliges. And on cue Zyon uses his frantic speed to bounce off the far ropes and springboards backward with his Half Moon Moonsault that connects on to the shoulder of the rookie. And by connect I mean the rookie shows off his monumental balance as he catches the light Zyon before power slamming him to the mat. Coyote staggers back to his feet and over toward the turnbuckle as Zyon clutches his back. The rookie once again DROPS EVERYTHING and stares at Judge. The wild rookie points at his teacher cursing him for what seemed like forever.


Finally the retired superstar hops to his feet and looks ready to defend his honor.


Coyote sticks his head between the ropes and dares his mentor to “Just Bring It!!” However, the opportunistic Spike Jenkins is all “Considered it brought” as he delivers a blinding low Yakuza kick to the temple of one Kevin Coyote. Judge can only shake his head as Zyon kips back to his feet and places the rookie in a pump handle.


“Oh boy…”


Pete trails off as Zyon grabs the trapped hand with one hand while cradling the head of his opponent with the other. Coyote can only hope this doesn’t get back to his former reality TV show mates as Zyon hoists the cocky rookie into the air before driving Coyote into the mat with the 911 AERO DRIVVVAAAAA!!!!


Judge looks a wee bit concerned, but realizes that business is business as Zyon rolls on to a motionless Kevin Coyote.
















“Better luck next time kid.”



















The crowd cheers as “Vitamin” plays across the PA. Both Spike and Zyon shrug their shoulders toward Judge who can only shake his head. The duo takes one last look at the arrogant rookie before making their exit proving that as far as handicap matches go, they aren’t a bad team at all.




Funyon makes the better late than never announcement as Coyote remain unconscious in the ring. Judge continues to stare at his estranged student before hearing his young pupils phone ring, and suddenly Coyote slowly crawls toward the ring lady who has his expensive cell phone.


And Judge walks off realizing that Kevin Coyote would rather take on the locker room and get dropped on his head every match than listen to the wisdom of a retired pro.


Better luck next time indeed.

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Smarkdown returns from commercial to the abrasive vague grinding that heralds the beginning of Mastodon’s “Crusher Destroyer”, strobe lights picking up all around the entranceway as the house lights dim. What the vague grinding represents, nobody is sure. Perhaps it is the Tyrannosaurus Rex from Jurassic Park; perhaps it is some sort of machine. Mayhaps even...a Crusher Destroyer?


But the sound is not important. What is important is whose entrance the blaring heavy metal signifies, and it is Manson who strides through the curtain momentarily, striding, almost stomping, down the ramp and throwing up metal horns to jeers.


“The following contest is a HARDCORE MATCH,” begins Funyon as Manson makes it to the ring and slides under the bottom rope, throwing the horns up one more time, “and it is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, in the ring, from Denver, Colorado...MAAAAAANSSOOOOONNN!!!”


“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Smarkdown!” beams Pete as the camera pans over his way, catching the gigantic Florida grin on his face as he shuffles his notes around, preparing for the next match. “And you heard Funyon correctly - it’s a hardcore match next, and the opportunities are good for both Manson and his opponent, JJ Johnson.”


“Indeed,” agrees the Suicide King, nodding in agreement. “If Manson wins, he’ll have picked up a victory over the number one contender to the Heavyweight Championship of the World. SURELY, that will place him in line for a title shot some time in the future, even if it’s not the world. And Johnson?” King smirks. “Johnson just wants to let off some steam.”


Pete begins to say something about Johnson being screwed out of the Cruiserweight Championship five days ago, but something happens that makes him stop.



Namely, the lights drop out.






The two first grungy notes of Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat” blast out of the Savvis Center speakers, accompanied by two blazing lights and the Smarktron flickering to life, flashing highlights from Johnson’s matches; the flying cross kneebreaker on KOJI Kitano, dropping Scott Pretzler on his head with a Dragon Suplex, and taking Zyon off of the top rope with a BIGGER Dragon Suplex. The beat picks up, as well as the tempo, and the house lights fade up to a dark, dark red as smoke begins to billow from the entranceway. And where there’s smoke...




...there’s the demonic growl of Burton C. Bell, roaring out of the speakers and slamming into the Savvis Center audience like the wall of sound that it is. And with that roar emerges from the smoke JJ Johnson, striding down the ramp with the look in his eyes of a man out to crack some skulls.


“And his opponent,” booms Funyon, “on his way to the ring, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 219 pounds...he is the UNDISPUTED NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD...J! J! JOHNSON!”


Johnson strides up the steps, stepping through the ropes and into the ring, unzipping his jacket as he climbs to the second rope, where he throws his arm wide in a crucifix pose...






...and gets a chair shot to the back, courtesy of the Raging Bull! Johnson tumbles over the top rope to the apron, holding his back as referee Blaine Kalem signals for David Blazenwing to ring the bell.






“And a sneak attack by Manson starts us off,” frowns Pete, obviously disapproving of Manson’s questionable tactics.


“No shit, Sherlock,” smirks the Heartbreaker, “it’s a hardcore match. He can do what he wants.”


Including bash Johnson’s head in with a second chair shot...






...which he proceeds to do, causing Johnson to release his grip on both his back and the ropes and fall to the floor, looking rather worse for wear only seconds into the contest. Manson slides out of the ring at a different area, dropping his mangled chair and looking for another implement of opponent destruction. After a bit of rummaging, as well as talking smack with the fans, the Raging Bull drags a trash can full of goodies out from beneath the squared circle and, with a mighty heave, hurls it over the ropes to where Johnson lies!




Fortunately, the Canadian managed to gather his wits about him in time to notice that the big steel thing flying towards him wasn’t good (why he didn’t figure this out earlier is beyond me) and move out of the way! Realizing that he has the advantage now that Manson is literally throwing weapons to him, Johnson reaches into the trash can and pulls out...



...a jump rope. Johnson can’t believe his eyes, staring at the childhood toy as the crowd has a hearty chuckle at the Ultimate Fighter’s apparent misfortune. With the massive Manson drawing near, Johnson does the only thing he really can do.




Grab both handles of the jump rope in one hand and start swinging! His first shot catches Manson in the left shoulder, causing the Raging Bull to grab at the stinging limb, but not anything serious...





...like take a direct hit to the eyes, which is where Johnson aims next, swinging his arm in a knife-edge chop-like fashion in order to send the thin plastic whipping across the Colorado native’s face! Manson grabs at his stinging ocular appendages, and Johnson takes advantage, unloading three shots to various spots on Manson’s body!








Manson grabs at the stinging wounds some more, all the time trying to keep his eyes from hurting anymore, and Johnson unfolds the jump rope, takes a moment, and does a few jumps, using his vertical leap and superior athleticismto spin the rope under him twice in one jump! The crowd oohs at this display of playground prowess...




...and ahhs when with no warning, Johnson folds the jump rope back up again and goes to town on the Raging Bull once more!


“Wow! I think Johnson deserves some sort of award for being the first person to effectively utilize a jump rope in a hardcore situation,” exclaims Pete, impressed at Johnson’s ability to work with what he’s got.


“What do you mean ‘effectively’?” asks King, offended. “You say that as if jump ropes don’t sting like a bitch. Because, you know, they sting like a bitch.”


King’s eloquence knows no bounds as Manson retreats, not wanting to suffer the slings and arrows of more jump rope shots. Johnson, knowing he’s got the Raging Bull on the run, follows in...


...just in time to see Manson’s lariat arm cruising towards him!



And duck! Manson goes stumbling past after the failed Western Lariat, but he doesn’t get far as Johnson takes the rope and swings it back over his head, catching the Stampede around the neck before falling flat on his back, bringing Manson down hard with a jump rope-assisted Hangman’s Neckbreaker!








Not wasting a moment, Johnson keeps the jump rope wrapped around the larynx of the Stampede as he rolls onto his front before headstanding…then briding forward and managing to trap a leg, applying another assisted move, this time a sickle hold!



“Johnson just keeps up the heat on Manson,” remarks Pete, “using innovation and technique to keep his bigger, stronger opponent on the ground where he’s less dangerous.”



“Technique?” asks King. “Get out the wrestling handbook, look up ‘technique’, and point out the ‘jump rope’ clause for me.”



As innovative and pseudo-technical as the rope sickle hold may be, it has one fatal flaw; namely, one cannot bridge and pull on things for very long before something has to give. Nine times out of ten in this kind of hold, that something is the neck, and the pattern doesn’t deviate here as Johnson releases the bridge – and the jump rope hold – before standing and looking around for a new weapon, tossing the child’s plaything into the crowd. Deciding that the best place to start would be the Trash Can o’ Legalized Assault and Battery, the Canadian steps over a slowly rising and heavy-breathing Manson before arriving at the can. Rummaging through, Johnson pulls out a pane of glass that, while too small to be useful as a window, would be perfect for hand-to-hand combat. Manson draws near, and so Johnson draws the pane back…



“Well, here comes the pane!” shouts King. Pete groans.



…and then notices writing on it. Stalling a moment, the Canadian gets a good look at the writing on the plate.






The crowd boos as the camera zooms in on the writing. Johnson gives the glass a blank stare. Why would somebody write that on there and then leave it under the ring? After pondering it a moment, the Ultimate Fighter realizes it’s not worth thinking about, shrugs, and smashes the glass over the skull of the Raging Bull!








“Oh my God!” cries Pete as shards of glass fly everywhere, the forceful blow bringing the extraordinarily tough Stampede to his knees. “Johnson just shattered The Blues’ Playoff Hopes!”



“Funny,” remarks King, “I thought the Avalanche did that.” Pete groans again.



Meanwhile, Manson surges upwards from his down-on-one-knee position, delivering…






…a hard elbow smash that rocks the jaw of the #1 contender! Johnson stumbles back, and Manson uses this moment to deliver a boot to Johnson’s gut, doubling him over before tucking him into a standing headscissors and throwing up the metal horns!





Rather apathetic towards the opinion of the fans, the Raging Bull goes from the horns to the finger before reaching down, wrapping his hands around Johnson’s waist, lifting…





…and Johnson shoves down on Manson’s head, leapfrogging himself over! The Canadian dodged a bullet, and he knows it, deciding to capitalize by spinning to the left and delivering one of his signature rolling elbows!






Unfortunately, Manson got that idea first, and Johnson crumples in a heap on the thin padding before his own elbow ever has a hope of connecting. Grinning maliciously, the Raging Bull still knows that Johnson won’t stay down for long – indeed, he’s already beginning to sit up and make his way back to his feet. The Stampede immediately begins putting his next plan into action by reaching down, grabbing a hold of the edge of the mats…and throwing one back, revealing the harsh concrete below before digging in the trash can for something to inflict pain with.



“Oh my,” gasps Pete.



“SWEET,” gushes the Heartbreaker.



Apparently, Manson finds most of the weapons in the trash can useless, and with a mighty sweep of his arm he tosses it aside before turning to face his opponent…



…only to find said opponent rolling into the ring, obviously not wanting to be scraped off of the Savvis Center floor. Manson snorts – he hates playing cat and mouse – then slides into the ring after his prey…








…just in time for his prey to shove 219 pounds of dropkick into his nose! The Raging Bull instinctively grabs at his face, and Johnson uses that opportunity to sprint off of the ropes before charging back…








…and driving a Yakuza Kick into the side of the Stampede’s head! Manson rolls onto his back, and Johnson immediately dives on top, hooking a leg as Kalem drops to count…







But it’s no effort at all for Manson to shove the number 1 contender away, regardless of recent blunt force trauma. The Canadian rolls to his feet, but not fast enough, as Manson is already beginning to rise. Knowing that the Raging Bull is very dangerous indeed on his feet, Johnson charges in, spinning for a rolling elbow…






…and gets it this time, Manson not able to spin as fast as he had earlier in the match. The Stampede staggers, and Johnson follows in, streamlining his body before hooking behind one of the Raging Bulls knees and taking him off of his feet with a single-leg takedown! The Ultimate Fighter drops down to apply a hold, but Manson shows he’s quicker than expected, twisting his hips and evading the dangerous Canadian before a hold can be applied. Johnson recovers instantly, springing himself back up to his feet…JUST AS MANSON HURLS A SECOND WESTERN LARIAT!!











“DANGEROUSGERMAAAAAAAAAAANNN!!!” shrieks King, as is tradition when Johnson busts out one of his most lethal suplexes. Manson rolls through the landing and to his feet, where he charges forward with his eyes glazed over…










The Raging Bull collapses in a heap on the canvas, his neck and his jaw being traumatized in short order not working too well for his nervous system. Johnson wastes zero time hooking both legs and flipping forwards with a textbook jackknife pin!











THR-But Manson shoves his shoulder off of the mat again, refusing to be put down so quickly. Despite the numbness running through his entire face, the Raging Bull forces himself up to his feet, huffing and puffing with a fury that only Manson can bring to a match. Smart enough to not want to deal with said fury, the Canadian opponent of his adopts his old UFC fighting stance…and is shocked when the Raging Bull does the same!






“Well,” comments Pete ever-so-sarcastically, “looks like by ‘hardcore match’, the bookers meant ‘Ultimate Fight’, because that’s apparently what we’re getting here.”



“Shut up, Pete, these are way cooler,” scolds King as the Raging Bull and the Ultimate Fighter begin circling each other, neither quite sure how to handle the situation they just shoved themselves into. Referee Blaine Kalem, who barely knows how to referee a professional wrestling match, much less a mixed martial arts match, simply steps back into the corner and waits.



Deciding that all of this circling is getting quite boring, the Stampede strikes first, crushing forward with a powerful right! Johnson ducks, though, and wastes zero time in using his ducking momentum to transfer into a picture-perfect spinning back kick, driving the flat of his foot right into Manson’s ribs!



“Manson gets a bit too ahead of himself there,” says King, all of a sudden deciding to get serious and show off some knowledge. “He telegraphed that huge right, and Johnson countered with a spinning back kick, or a ‘revers’ in savate, that uses much less energy to much more effect.”



Not deterred by the temporary ache in his abdomen, the Raging Bull simply attacks again, this time with a right uppercut almost worthy of a cry of ‘Shoryuken!’






Unfortunately, Johnson plays Sagat to his Ryu, stepping in and flicking out a high roundhouse that catches the Denver native just behind the ear, staggering the Stampede! Manson immediately gets back into position, but doesn’t lunge forward as eagerly this time – he’s learned his lesson on rushing in. Or so it would seem, as the Coloradan shoots in for another straight right!



Johnson throws a spinning roundhouse!




But Manson transfers from his bluffed right to a double-leg takedown, Johnson’s foot touching ground in just enough time to sprawl backwards and defend against being dumped onto his back! The Canadian has the advantage over the Raging Bull now, and he wastes no time in shoving Manson’s head down into the mat and letting loose with some knees to the skull!












Manson knows he can’t just sit there and eat knees, so he draws his left arm in to protect his head. And falls right into Johnson’s trap.



The Canadian immediately dips his left shoulder, shoving the arm under Manson’s neck and trapping the left arm of the Raging Bull against his own face. Reaching out through the other side, he brings his other arm to the side and immediately wraps his arms together, as if looking for a sleeper. He makes sure the Stampede is secure, then dips his head to the side and, with a pop of his hips, rolls right, bringing the Raging Bull over and dumping the Coloradan on his back while still in the hold. Now in the final stages, Johnson uses his legs to draw himself closer to Manson…




…and Manson doesn’t tap, as the Canadian’s stomach begins to press against his head…




…and Johnson ‘walks’ himself closer…




…and Manson doesn’t tap, his neck now beginning to be slightly compressed as the Canadian both pulls and pushes, providing a very uncomfortable situation for his breathing canal…



…and Johnson ‘walks’ himself very close…



…and intense pain and a lack of air finally get to the Raging Bull.










Johnson immediately breaks the choke, rolling himself out of the ring and striding back up the ramp as is his tradition.



“What was that!?” asks Pete, awestruck – as is the crowd – about how the match was literally over in an instant.



“I believe that’s an Anaconda Choke,” says King, looking pensive. “Let’s bring those final moments up on the Smarktron, can we?”



And as per the Gambling Man’s request, the Smarktron kicks into life, the Canadian looking up at his own handiwork as King explains the action on the screen.




Or so it would seem, as the Coloradan shoots in for another straight right!



Johnson throws a spinning roundhouse!




But Manson transfers from his bluffed right to a double-leg takedown, Johnson’s foot touching ground in just enough time to sprawl backwards and defend against being dumped onto his back! The Canadian has the advantage over the Raging Bull now, and he wastes no time in shoving Manson’s head down into the mat and letting loose with some knees to the skull!











“See, now Manson knows Johnson’s going to be ready for another of his failed strikes, so he decides to try and bluff him and go for a takedown. And it almost works, too, but Johnson doesn’t bite as hard as he should have, and manages to sprawl back and block the takedown. Now he’s got Manson on the ground, and in PRIDE and K-1, although illegal in UFC, the position he’s in right now, controlling the back from in front of the victim, is a perfect position to start raining knees on them.”



Manson knows he can’t just sit there and eat knees, so he draws his left arm in to protect his head. And falls right into Johnson’s trap.



The Canadian immediately dips his left shoulder, shoving the arm under Manson’s neck and trapping the left arm of the Raging Bull against his own face. Reaching out through the other side, he brings his other arm to the side and immediately wraps his arms together, as if looking for a sleeper. He makes sure the Stampede is secure, then dips his head to the side and, with a pop of his hips, rolls right, bringing the Raging Bull over and dumping the Coloradan on his back while still in the hold. Now in the final stages, Johnson uses his legs to draw himself closer to Manson…



“Now, Johnson’s a veteran fighter, and he knows that when you’re getting knees dropped on your head, the typical instinct is to protect your head. Johnson has the right arm trapped back in this position, so the Raging Bull goes with the next best thing, his left arm. Without his left arm, though, he doesn’t have a strong base to rest himself on, and it exposes himself for Johnson to shoot his arm through and slap on the choke. From there, all Johnson has to do is roll and compress the neck, and it was only a matter of time before Manson tapped. Very powerful choke, and very smart of Johnson to think that up on the fly and get this match away from the hardcore, where he surely would have succumbed to Manson’s experience.”



“Well, that’s certainly a good analysis,” says Pete. “And speaking of hardcore…BLANK. KAIBATSU. LIGHT-TUBES. NEXT. STICK AROUND.”



“Here is your winner, by submission…J! J! JOHNSON!” is the last thing heard, booming from the voice of Funyon, before we…





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“Don’t ask me no more questions” by Lynyrd Skinner plays, and the Ultra Violent Champion makes his way through the gates. He raises his title up in the air on the stage and walks down the ramp.



“He may be raising that belt now” Pete starts “But if Akira beats him 3 times, it’s over”


“Well, he has to beat him 3 times”


“As does Blank. I was just pointing out that Blank might not have the belt, as soon as Storm.”


“Akira could be done with as soon as Storm, just as easily”


The champ rolls into the ring, and steps up to the turnbuckle, raising his arms up there, and the music stops.


Out of the gate, comes Akira Kaibatsu. Akira looks calm. After his first real hardcore battle at Ramadomination, he knows what to expect. He saunters down to the ring, and rolls in, eyeballing the champ.


Funyon grabs a mic “And to my left, from Sendai Japan, weighing 195 pounds, AKIRAAAA KAAIIIIBATSUUUUUU”


The crowd pops, after Akira’s name is called. He throws some air punches.


“and from Dirty Tornado Trailer Park, he is the reigning and defending Ultraviolent Champion . . . BRUCEE BLAAAANK”


Nick Soapdish asks both men if they’re ready to begin. Both men nod, and Soapdish calls to begin the match.




Blank and Akira circle each other, with some hop in their step, moving easily. Neither man wants to make the first mistake of the series.


“This is the beginning” Pete says “of what promises to be the most blood filled feud we’ve had in a while”


“The path to the Ultraviolent Championship will be arduous, whether it goes 3 matches or 5”


Akira decides he’ll make the first move, and runs towards Bruce, and baseball slides under him. Swiftly, he gets up before Blank can react, and throws a chop at his back. Blank feels the pain, but he puts it behind him, and turns around, attempting a discus clothesline, but Kaibatsu ducks it, and hits a dropkick, sending the champ out of the ring.


“Picture perfect dropkick!”


“Blank goes flying!”

“The action’s moving quickly!” Pete exclaims.


Wasting no time, Akira turns around, and grabs on of the light tubes behind him. He runs towards Blank on the outside, and baseballs slides at his face with the Light tube in front of his feet, but Blank is quick to react, and moves out of the way. Blank grabs the light tube from Akira’s loose grasp, and smashes it into the gut of Kaibatsu. Akira grabs at his stomach, and rolls backwards, towards the center of the ring. Because it was hit in his stomach though, the light tube doesn’t break. Blank carries it into the ring.


“We’ve seen our fists weapon blow in the series!” Pete remains excited


“Seems odd to say that today. Storm is on Friday!” King and Pete laugh


Akira starts to make his way to his feet, but is stopped short by a light tube to the back! The tube cracks open, and residue of the light tubes is smeared over Akira’s olive skin.


“The powder of a light tube,” King recites “, is actually the most deadly part. You can get high off of it, and causes cancer”


“Should we expect these guys to be a bit light headed during this match?”


“After what we saw at Ramadomination, I’d say we’re going to see quite a bit of light tubes . . . so yeah, definitely”


Blank stays on the attack, and grabs Akira’s knee. He lifts, and thrusts it down, smashing it into the mat, causing Akira to grab at it. Blank turns to the side of the ring where the lights are stacked. Quietly, Akira slides out of the ring, and reaches under the ring. He finds 2 steel folding chairs—not quite what he was looking for, but he brings them in anyway. Akira gets up at the same time as Blank turns around, and both swing their weapon. The light tube crashes over the steel. Without missing a beat, Akira takes another swing, seeing as his weapon is still in tact. The chair hits Blank in the shoulder, and he falls into the turnbuckle. Akira drops the chairs, and grabs one of the light tubes next to him. He holds it horizontal, and rushes towards the champ, throwing a Light tube Lariat in the corner!


“Owwww! Lariat with the tube!” Pete cries


“And as I mentioned moments ago, that powder is probably all over Bruce’s mouth and nose, which can’t be good.”


Akira picks up a piece of light tube, it’s still in it’s tube shape, just broken. About the length of a hand. He whips his hand back, and . . .





A knife edged Lighttube chop! Blank grabs his chest over his heart, feeling the glass dig into his skin. He now has 2 or 3 small cuts on his chest. The blood isn’t flowing yet, but Blank hasn’t moved either.


“That’s an interesting way to use a light tube!” Pete shills


“Expect a lot of that, in a Light tube match.”


“Well, I knew we’d see some crazy stuff, but I’ve never seen a knife edged chop with a Light tube”


Akira bends over to pick up another piece like that, but Blank sees this as an opportunity to take back offense, and he throws his knee at the side of Akira’s downed head.


“Blank quickly gets back on the offensive!” Pete calls.


“Bout time. Right here, I’m calling a sweep. 3-0 for Blank”


“50 bucks says you’re wrong” Pete challenges SWF’s resident gambler to a bet?


“Oh you’re on.”


Akira takes the hit in stride, and rolls to the side, using that momentum to get up. Blank keeps up with Akira’s quick pace though, running right at him, throwing a Lariat at him, sending him to the corner. Bruce ducks, and starts ramming his left shoulder forward. With each thrust, Akira can be heard grunting. Bruce elevates himself from the shoulder thrusts, and begins throwing forearms at Akira’s head. Bruce gets one in . . . two in . . . three in . . . but Akira starts to fight back. He throws elbows Blank’s way. Akira gets on the offensive with the elbows. He soon turns this into a peppering of strikes, elbows forearms punches, constant strikes to Blank’s head. Just as Blank looks like he’s about to fall to the ground and collapse, Akira screams at Bruce’s face, spins, and hits a huge Discus Elbow! Akira quickly goes down for a cover, hooking the leg.
























Bruce rolls his shoulders up, avoiding a quick upset loss. The camera zooms in on his face. He’s blinking, and has his brows wide. The last shot hit him, and he suddenly realized that this series might not go the way he planned.


Akira walks over to the one corner yet to be fought in by the competitors. There’s a strange concoction that he hadn’t quite noticed earlier. 4 Light tubes had been duct taped together, and made one big super light tube. Akira grabbed it, and turned around, to see that Blank and gotten up, in his absence, and the champion tried to pry the super tube out of Akira’s hands. Like 2 6 year olds fighting over a Power Ranger, the grapplers push and shove for possession of the florescent radiant that would bring them their scars. No one wanted to give up, and it seemed it would be a stalemate. Both men got closer to each other, right up against each other, if not for the glass inbetween them.


The anger on Bruce’s face disappears from the struggle, and is replaced by a sinister smirk. He cocks his head back, and slams it forward.















“Oh my god, King! Oh my freaking God!”


“Blank just head butted that tube into Akira! Look at Bruce’s forehead! My god!”


King was right about Bruce’s fore head. The impact of that forceful tactic gave him a cut, right above his left eye. The first Crimson mask of the series. Will it be the last? SWF marketers think not.


Blank gathers his energy after that shot. Akira has not moved an inch. Bruce rolls over, and gets an arm over Akira’s chest.





















































“How did Akira find the strength!!” Pete screams!


“We’re only a few minutes into this match, and we’ve seen some crazy stuff already”


As soon as Akira rolls over, it is evident that he took just as much punishment from the head BUTT as Blank did. The mask just didn’t show it right away. Akira’s blue eyes are dyed purple, and his maroon forehead . . . well it wasn’t maroon seconds ago.


Blank and Akira slowly get up, gaining their composure from the last shot. Kaibatsu is stumbling, but swiftly after he makes his way up he chops Blank right in the chest. Blank answers with a chop of his own. Akira responds to Blanks open hand, and Blank does the same. The two exchange chops like cookie recipes for the next 15 seconds, neither man wanting to be the one to say they chop worse. Akira, whose chest is beat red, refuses to go on like that, but he wont let Blank know—So he drops down, and kicks Bruce’s knee, for a basement dropkick. Akira gets up smoothly, and rushes over to get himself 2 more light tubes. He picks two up, and turns around, to see Blank rushing at him with his head down.


“Blank’s going for the spear . . .”


“OOOH! Swing and a miss!”


Blank dives, lunging his body at Akira, trying to send the tubes into his gut, but Akira will have none of that. The speed and momentum Blank had, caused him to get stuck in the turnbuckle. But Akira being the helping hand he is, gets him out of the situation . . . by spinning him so he now faces up, towards the ceiling.


“What the hell could Akira be going for?”


“Maybe he’s just going to hit him like that . . . like he was be-heading somebody.”


Though Akira would likely enjoy be-heading Bruce, he doesn’t go with that plan. He takes one tube with him to the turnbuckle. Kaibatsu leaps up towards the sky, getting air, not distance. From here, Akira shoves the lights down so they’re at his feet. Then . . .

















Akira makes a cover on the champ.














































“Ahh! Blank escapes this one, getting his foot on the rope”


Akira gets up; disappointed he couldn’t put the champ away. Kaibatsu lifts Blank by the hair, and throws a European uppercut. Then an elbow, and whips Bruce into the far corner. Akira runs towards Bruce, and leaps into the air, going for a jumping clothesline, but Blank catches him, and nails him with an STO, Samoa Joe style!


“Another momentum shifter, from Bruce!” King gets excited again, when his guy starts winning. Bruce is still woozy from the light tube ghetto stomp, and falls on Akira, making a cover.




























Neither man can get up right away after the pin. They lay there regaining stamina, so referee Nick Soapdish starts the count






























Akira and Bruce show life, but can’t seem to make it to their feet. Akira almost makes it up to his knee, but not quite.



















With only 3 counts left, neither man looks like they’re getting up.







“They better hurry!!” Pete wants this to continue.


“Oh, not another Ramadomination!”






Akira and Bruce make it to their knees, and their torsos slowly follow.






Soapdish starts to scream, but halfway through he makes a horizontal sign with his arms, signaling that the match has not ended—Both men are up.


They stare each other down. Akira makes a move, throwing an elbow at Blank. Blank fires back with one of his own. Akira launches a hook right to the side of the head. He tries another, but Blank blocks it with his fore arm. The Ultra Violent champ thrusts a forearm, sending Akira’s spit flying. Blank goes for a hook, but Akira ducks it, and wraps Blank in a rear waist lock, flipping backwards sending him for a German Suplex!


“What an exchange!” Pete screams


“We’re really getting everything. The strikes, the suplexes, the hardcore action. This is a really all-around type battle.”


Akira is slow to his feet, but Blank is slower. Kaibatsu stalks his opponent. Blank gets to both knees, and turns his body, so that he faces Kaibatsu, but his body is facing the other way. Akira has a slow run—not a jog, but a slow run, towards Blank, and hops, and kicks him right in the face!



“Shining Gamenguri!” Pete goes wild “A Kaibatsu Classic!”


“No, Akira vs. Marcus Ward was a Kaibatsu Classic”



Regardless of what the true definition is, Akira makes a cover on Blank, hooking both legs.

























“Bah! Blank just gets a shoulder off the mat!”



Akira is not discouraged, but seems to have an idea. He drags Blank by his hair to one of the sides with Light tubes, and leans Blank’s neck against the bottom rope. He places on of the Light tubes below Blank’s face.


Kaibatsu grabs an additional bulb, and heads over to the side just across from Blank. He steps out onto the apron. Akira taunts the crowd, showing them his light tube. Right after that, he springboards, holding his tube below his feet. He dropkicks the light tube into the back of Blank’s neck, sending his face into the other bulb!


“That, that was like a sandwich . . . KENTA style, fools!” Pete just now catches on to the ‘so-last-week’ phrase


“Crazy ass sandwiches those japs eat.”


“Well, weather you like Ham and Cheese, or teriyaki dog fried rice egg roll, it doesn’t matter, because Akira is about to end this match!


Kaibatsu picks up Blank, and begins to chop at him, one after another. Blanks chest becomes beat red. Akira tries a toe kick, but Blank catches his foot!


“Uh oh! Bad situation for Akira!”


Blank spins Akira around by his leg, and when he makes a full revolution, catches him. He puts Akira in a front face lock, and lifts him up.


“Going for a Blank Bomb!”


Akira turns his body around, in the loose face lock, and slides down Blank’s back, escaping the move, but he doesn’t just escape; on his way down he grabs a hold of Blank by the neck, and locked in a Dragon Sleeper!


“Can he end it here?” Pete senses the end


“No! Blank can get out of it! C’mon Bruce! We can’t have this go to Clusterfuck!”


Beating Blank with the Dragon sleeper doesn’t seem to be what Akira has in mind, however. He keeps it applied, but bends down, and picks up a broken piece of light tube, like he was using to chop earlier in the match.


“Blank seems to be losing consciousness”


Akira sticks the light tube inside the mouth of Bruce Blank.


“What the hell is he going to do!?”


Akira makes sure it’s in snugly, by squeezing tighter. He lifts Blank up in the air . . . vertically . . . and drops him.



“THE KAIBATSU DROP WITH A LIGHT TUBE IN BLANK’S MOUTH?!” Pete pulls a Chris Lovee, if Pete had a signature call



“ . . . Wow . . .”


Blank lies motionless on his stomach. The canvas beneath him increasingly becomes a bigger puddle of maroon. Akira comes up behind him, puts a ground chicken wing in, and flips over, locking in the rising sun,


Soapdish doesn’t allow it, he gets Akira right off of him, and calls for the bell.


“Here is your winner via KNOCK OUT . . . The Divine Wind . . . AKIRAAA KAIBATSUUU!”


A graphic shows, with both grapplers standing, with a steel pole wrapped in barbed wire between them. Under Akira reads a big “1” and beneath Blank is a large “0”


“Hey! You owe me fifty—“


The graphic fades, and we go to the next segment.

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The right honorable and ”hard working” (wink – wink) Joseph Peters is in his office looking over the booking sheets for Storm trying to get together as good a show as possible while building to the ClusterFuck PPV.




Peters looks up and sees a large hulking figure darkening his doorstep, quite a scary sight with blood dripping from multiple cuts and lacerations – the kind of lacerations you’d get from for instance hitting a load of light tubes with no protection.


Bruce’s eyes are glazed over, he should in fact have been under medical care but he has to do something first. After standing in the doorway for a moment without saying a word Bruce staggers forward towards Peters’ desk painting a trail of blood behind him.


“Erm… “ is all Peters can say as Bruce towers over him, swaying, practically out on his feet.


“the wheel…” Bruce whispers


Peters pulls out the wheel with Ultraviolent match stipulations and quickly spins it. Round and round it goes until it starts to slow down passing such matches as Bunkhouse Brawl and Agony of Defeat, it slows down and stops on “Japanese Death match”




Only to move one more peg and land on “Supermarket Death Match”


“Storm…” Bruce says before dropping to his knees and then keeling over, apparently he was so determined to spin the wheel that he ignored the state of his body, but now that he knows what match is next he just lets go.


Joseph Peters doesn’t say anything as he just sits there and stares at Bruce, he just hopes that Bruce’s death wish doesn’t end in horror one day… and if it does then that it wouldn’t be on an SWF show at least.


“That’s the last thing I need”


Fade to black

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Pete: “And as we conclude the first edition of Smarkdown for the year 2006, we are getting ready for the main event. Jay Hawke defends the International Championship against not one, but two opponents, as he takes on Wildchild and Stryke in a three way elimination match.”


King: “And if this doesn’t prove that the championship committee is using any excuse they can to try to get the belt off of Hawke then I don’t know what does. Wildchild had his shot a couple of months ago…”


Pete: “Which was foiled by Johnny Dangerous, if you remember correctly.”


King: “Which I’ll grant you, but he still had his shot. As for Stryke, he’s won what, one match since his return? These two should be facing each other for the number one contendership with Jay Hawke watching from ringside and having six weeks to prepare!”


Pete: “Six weeks?”


King: “Yeah, you’re right.”


Pete: “Thank you.”


King: “Eight weeks.”


Pete: “Well, there’s no championship advantage for Hawke here, but he does get one advantage that isn’t very common in three way matches. It is elimination style, so Hawke does need to get beat at some point to lose the title.”


King: “At least they got one thing right.”


Pete: “And we’re going up to Funyon for the introductions.”


Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a three way elimination match with a 30-minute time limit for the SWF International Championship!”






Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill A Man” hits, a wall of blue & white pyrotechnics triggering the cheers of the crowd as Stryke steps through the smoke and sparks onto the stage.


Funyon: “Introducing first … from Sydney, Australia … weighing in at 230 pounds … STRYYYYYYYYYYYYYKE!”


Stryke, receiving a solid pop from the crowd, quickly heads down the ramp, slapping a few hands on the way before climbing onto the apron, looking out into the stands for a moment to absorb the adulation of the fans before climbing in and getting straight to business, preparing for the match at hand. As Stryke backs into his corner, the music changes to “Bouncin’ Back” by Mystikal.


Funyon: “Introducing challenger number two. Accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki … from the Bahamas … weighing in at 214 pounds … WILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLDCHILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLD!”


Wildchild and Melissa Fasaki casually make their way to the ring as the crowd gives them a bigger pop than Stryke got, but not incredibly so. As Wildchild steps into the ring and takes his corner, the lights dim, and the familiar opening strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” begin to echo throughout the Savvis Center.


Funyon: “And their opponent … he hails from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … he is, for 211 days, the reigning and defending International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”


The crowd boos heavily as a lone spotlight shines at the top of the ramp, revealing Jay Hawke and his beautiful International Championship belt. As Hawke emerges from the spotlight and makes his way to the ring, the crowd breaks out into its all-too-familiar chant:







Jay Hawke shrugs off the crowd reaction as he makes his way into the ring. After folding his sequined robe and handing it to the ring attendant, he takes off his belt and puts one hand over the centerplate, takes a deep breath, then reluctantly hands it to senior referee Matthew Kivell, who hoists it up into the air for the crowd to get a good look at it.


Pete: “Could that be the last time we see Jay Hawke holding that International Championship belt?”


King: “I doubt it, Pete, but even if it is, what a hell of a run he’s had, shattering the previous record for an uninterrupted title reign set by Fallout.”






And at the sound of the bell, all three men emerge from their corners, seemingly cautious as to what their next move should be. Within seconds, both challengers turn toward the champion, as they would each like to be the man to pin the longest reigning International Champion ever. Undaunted, Jay Hawke begins to badmouth each man, daring one of them to make a move before…









Pete: “Jay Hawke just slapped Stryke!”


King: “OK, Hawke’s normally the smartest man in wrestling, but I don’t get that one!”


Stryke immediately gets a crazed look in his eyes and goes after the champion with a series of -- well -- strikes. Forearms, elbows, chops. You name it, Stryke levels Jay Hawke with about fifteen of them in the course of five seconds, which slumps the champion in a corner. Stryke continues to follow up with some forearms in the corner. As the referee starts a disqualification count, Wildchild moves in to break it up but gets an elbow to the face for his trouble.


Pete: “And there’s a hard shot to Wildchild, and I don’t think he was actually going to take a shot at Stryke there.”


King: “I think Wildchild was just trying to calm Stryke down, but Stryke is in a frenzy after that slap.”


Stryke continues to turn his attention to Jay Hawke, but the unintentional elbow is enough to motivate Wildchild. He runs off the ropes and charges, leveling Stryke with a flying forearm to the back of the head that sends Stryke face-first into the turnbuckle. Wildchild quickly rolls up a dazed Stryke:









Stryke kicks out, as he’s dazed more than anything else. As Stryke returns to his feet, Wildchild leaps up and snaps his head back with a leg lariat. Wildchild immediately drops down for another cover:











Pete: “A couple of near falls for Wildchild.”


King: “But this is giving Jay Hawke a chance to recover from that brutal series of strikes in the corner.”


Indeed, Jay Hawke is finally beginning to pull himself to his feet in the corner. Stryke also pulls himself to his feet, and Wildchild immediately snaps Stryke down with an arm drag takedown. Stryke gets to his feet, standing in front of Jay Hawke, and Wildchild moves in for a dropkick. Stryke ducks out of the way, and Wildchild catches Hawke with the dropkick instead.






Stryke immediately capitalizes, grabbing Wildchild by the back of his neck as he pulls himself to his feet and snapping him to the mat with a neck breaker. Stryke goes for the pin:









Kickout. Stryke quickly picks Wildchild up, seemingly setting him up for a suplex. Wildchild blocks it once, buying the champion enough time to get to his feet and wrap Stryke around the waist. Hawke gets a better grip, then lifts Stryke over into a German suplex, with the momentum sending Wildchild over with a vertical suplex at the same time. The crowd pops for the move despite who did it as Matthew Kivell slides over to count Stryke’s shoulders:












Pete: “What an incredible move!”


King: “Leave it to Jay Hawke to always find new and innovative ways to take it to his opponents! He was able to use Stryke to also take Wildchild over!”


As Stryke makes his way to his feet, Jay Hawke runs into the ropes. He rebounds, arm outstretched for a lariat, but Stryke moves out of the way. Hawke instead catches Wildchild with the lariat, and the momentum of the blow sends Wildchild down to the arena floor. Stryke immediately rebounds, taking Hawke down with a neck breaker before the champion can even turn around, then immediately dropping into a cover:











Pete: “A near fall for Stryke now, and there’s almost too much action to call at this point of the contest, King.”


King: “Well, I love that everybody is shooting for quick pins. Everybody is trying to get an early elimination and make it one-on-one, because as long as all three guys remain in this contest, you run the risk of getting hit from all sides.”


Stryke tries to pick the Dean of Professional Wrestling up off of the canvas, but Hawke tries to prevent it by firing off a couple of weak forearms to the midsection. Stryke prevents it with a couple of much harder knees to the midsection, then sets Hawke up for a suplex. However, Stryke is unaware that Wildchild has ascended to the top rope, and the Bahama Bomber leaps off and takes Stryke over with a sunset flip:









Stryke rolls out of it, then moves in and cradles both of Wildchild’s legs into a cradle:









Kickout. Both men get to their feet, with Stryke getting a European uppercut to stagger Wildchild. Stryke runs into the ropes, giving Jay Hawke the opening to tackle Wildchild just as Stryke leaves his feet for a high cross body. Stryke hits the mat hard and rolls toward the corner as Hawke immediately goes for the cover:











Pete: “Near falls all around. Simply tremendous action so far.”


King: “This is like the world’s longest game of ‘Can You Top This’.”


Jay Hawke grabs Wildchild by the head and locks him in a tight front facelock. Wildchild immediately makes a move to grab Hawke’s leg to alleviate the pressure, but Hawke clamps down on the hold.


King: “And Hawke’s decided ‘the hell with topping these guys, I’ll just make them pass out and be done with it.’ This is why Hawke is the Dean of Wrestling.”


Pete: “He’d better remember that Wildchild isn’t his only opponent though.”


Hawke continues to keep the pressure on the front facelock, and Wildchild slumps down onto one knee. Hawke begins to get a smirk on his face, which quickly turns into a look of shock when he sees Stryke using Wildchild’s back as a springboard to catch the champion with a jumping enzuigiri.






Jay Hawke collapses to the canvas, and Stryke immediately goes for the pin:









THR -- kickout.


Pete: “And there was one out of the Wildchild playbook! Stryke uses Wildchild as a springboard to catch Hawke in the back of the head, and he nearly got the pin right there!”


Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by, 25 minutes remain in the time limit.”


King: “There’s a lot on the line right here. Not only is the International Title at stake, but the winner’s got to be in line for a shot at the World Title in the near future.”


With Hawke down, Stryke decides to turn his attention to the fallen Wildchild. He picks up Wildchild and hooks him up for a fisherman suplex. He lifts, but Wildchild kicks his free leg to try to loosen Stryke’s grip. Sensing he won’t be taking Wildchild over the top, Stryke changes his momentum in midair, swinging Wildchild down with a neck breaker instead. As the crowd applauds the move, Stryke moves into the cover:









Kickout. Stryke slaps the mat in frustration as a large portion of the crowd cheers the kickout.


Pete: “Only two, and Stryke might be getting frustrated here.”


King: “If he’s not careful, he’s going to wind up blowing it when he’s got things well in hand!”


Stryke tries to regain his focus and once again goes after Wildchild. He locks in a front facelock, then runs to the corner for a swinging DDT. Wildchild counters and throws Stryke off, and the Sydney native lands on his feet. Unfortunately for him, he lands just a couple of feet in front of Jay Hawke, who levels him with a roundhouse kick to the back of the head. Stryke staggers forward, and Wildchild leaps up and takes Stryke over with a snap huracanrana, leaving both of Stryke’s shoulders on the mat:











King: “Unreal. In essence, Jay Hawke and Wildchild just teamed up to score that near fall when they weren’t even trying to.”


Jay Hawke says something to Wildchild, pointing up to the top rope. Wildchild looks perplexed for a moment but eventually nods. As Wildchild prepares himself, Jay Hawke grabs Stryke into a waistlock. Wildchild runs toward the ropes and leaps onto the top rope, then, curling himself into a ball, leaps off and catches Stryke with his Pinball attack as Jay Hawke simultaneously takes Stryke over with a German suplex:









THR -- kickout. The crowd pops, partly for the move and partly for Stryke kicking out. The broadcast team praises the teamwork as Hawke once again points to the top rope. Wildchild is a lot more willing to agree to it this time, and Hawke once again grabs Stryke. This time Wildchild merely climbs up onto the top turnbuckle, and he leaps off with a missile dropkick. Stryke moves, and Jay Hawke gets caught in the face with two feet from the high-flying Bahama Bomber.





King: “And that’s the danger with trying to team up with somebody in a match like this, Pete!”


Wildchild looks down at Jay Hawke with no emotion on his face, shrugging his shoulders as if to say “Oh well.” When he turns around, Stryke levels Wildchild with a knee to the midsection, then quickly spikes the Bahama Bomber with a DDT. No cover though, as he looks down at Jay Hawke’s prone body and smiles. He pulls the International Champion to his feet, drives a couple of knees into the midsection, then picks up Hawke into a fireman’s carry position. Stryke holds him up for a moment before spinning the champion around into an airplane spin, with the crowd counting along to the number of revolutions.




















After sixteen complete revolutions, Stryke dumps Jay Hawke down to the mat to a monster pop. However, Stryke is dizzy himself, and he falls to one knee before he can follow up. That is just enough for Wildchild to take Stryke over with a magistral cradle:












A mixed reaction comes from the crowd as the referee signals for the elimination.


Funyon: “In 7 minutes 57 seconds, Stryke has been eliminated!”


Pete: “Wildchild gets the pin with that beautiful cradle, and with Hawke in trouble after that airplane spin, he could be just moments away from winning the International Championship!”


King: “But realistically, Pete, Stryke beat himself there. He got caught up with trying to get in as many revolutions as he possibly could on that airplane spin, and he more or less made himself too weak to defend against the cradle!”


Jay Hawke tries to stand, but he stumbles into the ropes. He stumbles forward, and Wildchild is there to quickly take the champion over with a rana. Hawke almost instinctively rolls onto his knees, and Wildchild is quickly there to pull the champion up the rest of the way. Wildchild then whips Hawke into the ropes, then leaps up as Hawke is on the rebound, catching him coming in with a monkey flip that elevates the champion much further than he probably wanted to go. Wildchild immediately goes for the pin, hoping Hawke’s still a little dizzy from the airplane spin:









THR -- NO!


Pete: “Two and a half off of that Freefall, maybe even a little bit closer than that, and we almost had a new champion right there!”


King: “Wildchild’s definitely on a roll. And with Stryke already eliminated, the title might be his if he doesn’t make a mistake!”


With the champion still down, Wildchild runs into the ropes, dropping an elbow across the chest of Hawke on the rebound. Quicker than a cheetah on PCP, Wildchild is leaping onto the top rope, and he leaps off, crashing down with a senton back splash that might have knocked the wind out of the Dean’s sails. Wildchild goes down for the cover:









Kickout. Off the kickout, Hawke rolls over toward the corner, using the ropes to pick himself off of the canvas. Wildchild moves in and levels Jay Hawke with a hard forearm to the chest, then whips the champion into the opposite corner. Wildchild charges and leaps, doing a twisting Stinger splash in the corner.


Pete: “Blue Crush by Wildchild, and you’ve got to think Hawke is one or two moves away from finally losing the championship!”


Wildchild whips Jay Hawke into the opposite corner and charges. He goes for the Blue Crush again, but this time Jay Hawke whips his foot around for a roundhouse kick that catches Wildchild in the left shoulder in the middle of his twist. Wildchild screams out in pain as he clutches at his shoulder, and Hawke slumps down in the corner with an evil smirk on his face.


King: “And what did I say earlier? The match was Wildchild’s if he didn’t make a mistake, and there’s the mistake!”


Funyon: “Ten minutes have gone by, twenty minutes remain.”


King: “He went for one big move too many, and now he’s been kicked in the shoulder. Quite possibly a separated or dislocated shoulder right there, Pete!”


Pete: “And how will that affect Wildchild if the match progresses any length of time?”


King: “Jay Hawke locks in the Wing Span and forces Wildchild to tap out. Simple as that.”


Jay Hawke uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, then walks over to Wildchild and stomps on his shoulder repeatedly. Hawke quickly ducks down, grabbing hold of an armbar and leaning back with all of his weight over Wildchild’s left shoulder.


Pete: “Fujiwara armbar locked in by the International Champion here. What about this strategy from Jay Hawke?”


King: “It can work both ways. On the one hand, Hawke is wisely taking advantage of an apparently injured body part and weakening it, which will also set up his finisher. On the other hand, it keeps Wildchild’s primary weapon intact, and that’s his speed.”


Jay Hawke continues to wrench on Wildchild’s left arm as Wildchild desperately tries to crawl his way to the ropes. The crowd begins a “DUB-CEE” chant as Wildchild reaches forward, trying to get a hold of the ropes any way he can. He’s less than a foot away, but Jay Hawke releases the hold, drops a knee into the already-weakened left shoulder, then pulls Wildchild back to the center of the ring before reapplying the Fujiwara armbar.


King: “Now that was brilliant. Hawke pulled Wildchild to the center of the ring before Wildchild could grab the ropes, and now all the pain is rushing through Wildchild’s shoulder and showing on his face.”


Pete: “Just two minutes ago it looked as though Wildchild was going to become the new International Champion. Now Wildchild will be lucky if he gets out of here with two healthy arms!”


Hawke briefly releases the hold to drive a couple of elbows into the insertion of Wildchild’s shoulder, then goes right back into the Fujiwara armbar. Unable to reach the ropes, Wildchild tries a new approach to get out of the hold. He uses his free arm to pull himself to his knees, then shifts his weight ever so slightly to take Jay Hawke over with a modified arm drag. Wildchild holds his arm to his side, clearly hurting from even a basic counter, and Jay Hawke gets back to his feet and once again drives a roundhouse kick into the left shoulder. Wildchild drops to all fours, and Hawke again kicks Wildchild in the shoulder. Hawke then lifts Wildchild, puts the left arm behind his opponent’s back, then picks him up, driving him to the mat with the arm trapped behind him.


Pete: “Hammerlock body slam, and I don’t see how much more of this Wildchild can take. The pain through the arm has to be intense at this point.”


King: “And the arm has to be almost useless. I mean, even something as simple as a body slam is going to sap the energy out of Wildchild. Hawke’s playing this to perfection at this point.”


As Wildchild struggles to get to his feet, Jay Hawke throws three more hard roundhouse kicks to the shoulder. With each one, you can hear the snap of flesh hitting flesh and the crowd going “OHHH!” just a little bit louder. Wildchild falls to his knees off the third kick, but Hawke wastes no time, picking Wildchild up and dropping his shoulder across the knee.


Pete: “Shoulderbreaker by Jay Hawke, and he’s going for the pin right here!”













Pete: “But only two. How much more can Wildchild withstand here?”


King: “Not much, I wouldn’t think. His shoulder has simply taken too much punishment at this point.”


Jay Hawke drops a leg across the left arm and shoulder of the Bahama Bomber, then maintains his grip on the arm as he maneuvers into a short arm scissors. Wildchild screams in pain, which only gives Hawke the incentive to tighten his grip on the hold even more. As Wildchild searches for any way he can possibly think of to get out of the hold, he is unaware that his shoulders have fallen to the canvas:









Shoulder up.


King: “And there’s where the pain affects you. Wildchild didn’t even realize his shoulders were down, and that almost led to Hawke retaining the championship right there.”


Hawke maintains the pressure on the hold, and Wildchild looks confused as to where to go from here. Then he gets an idea. With all the strength he can muster, he rolls the champion onto his shoulders:









Jay Hawke regains the position he had on his hold, but the end result is Wildchild ending up at least six inches closer to the ropes. Wildchild kicks his foot toward the ropes, missing it by less than a foot. Pete catches on to Wildchild’s strategy, with Suicide King saying, “Mere coincidence, I assure you.” Wildchild summons up more strength, once again rolling Hawke onto his shoulders:









Once again Hawke regains his position, and this time Wildchild kicks at the ropes, missing it by two inches at the most.


Pete: “Get there, Wildchild! Get there!”


King: “Hey! Stop playing favorites out here, Pete!”


Pete: “You do it all the time!”


King: “Yeah, but I’m the evil color man, that’s my job!”


With Jay Hawke desperately trying to maintain the pressure on the hold, Wildchild once again attempts to roll Hawke onto his shoulders. He struggles a lot more this time, but he does eventually get the champion’s shoulders onto the mat:









TH -- Jay Hawke regains his positioning, but Wildchild’s feet land over the bottom rope, forcing referee Matthew Kivell to call for the break. Hawke releases the hold at the count of four, then he moves over to the center of the ring, shouting “Get up” at his fallen challenger.


Pete: “Can you believe this? Jay Hawke is actually waiting for Wildchild to get to his feet!”


King: “I think you know why, Pete. I think he’s going to try to end this one with the Wing Span right here.”


With the Bahama Bomber’s shoulder completely limp at his side, he uses his right arm to grab the ropes and pull himself to his feet. As he stands up, Jay Hawke moves in and goes to lock in the Wing Span, but Wildchild maneuvers his body to the side to take Hawke down to the mat with a modified hiptoss. Hawke is quickly to his feet, but Wildchild kicks Jay Hawke in the midsection, then drapes his leg over the back of his opponent’s neck and drives him down to the canvas.


Pete: “Caribbean Cutter! Wildchild just took the International Champion down with the Caribbean Cutter, and that might be the break he needed to win this one!”


King: “It’s going to take more than one move to beat Jay Hawke for that championship, Pete!”


It does buy the remaining challenger some time. He and Hawke get to their feet at roughly the same time. Wildchild catches Jay Hawke with a series of right forearms that stagger the champion, but he clutches his shoulder with each move. Wildchild runs off the ropes and rebounds, taking the champion down with a flying forearm.


Funyon: “Fifteen minutes have gone by, fifteen minutes!”


Wildchild goes down for the cover:











Pete: “Only a count of two, and he simply couldn’t get a good cover with his shoulder in the shape it’s in.”


King: “And that’s definitely going to do its damage, because without a solid cover, it’s going to be almost impossible to beat Hawke!”


Wildchild gets to his feet and, with the champion still down, he runs off the ropes, leaving his feet to drop onto his fallen opponent with a running senton. The move ends up with Wildchild using his back to cover the champion:











Pete: “A much better cover from the challenger there.”


King: “Only because the move left him in perfect position.”


Knowing he needs to essentially knock out the Dean of Professional Wrestling if he wants to be successful here, Wildchild makes a move to climb up to the top turnbuckle. However, the pain in the shoulder is excruciating, and it’s all Wildchild can do to use his one good arm to pull himself up to the top turnbuckle. It gives Hawke enough time to get to his feet, and the champion runs into the ropes, forcing Wildchild to fall crotch first onto the turnbuckle. The crowd boos, many of them asking for a disqualifcation, and Jay Hawke climbs up after Wildchild.


Pete: “Now it’s Jay Hawke taking a big gamble here. Maybe going for a superplex?”


King: “That would be my guess.”


Hawke grabs Wildchild, looking like he is indeed going for a superplex, but Wildchild instinctively reaches up and punches Jay Hawke underneath the chin. That knocks the champion off-balance, and Wildchild levels Hawke with a forearm smash that knocks the champion to the canvas. As Wildchild struggles to regain his footing, the crowd erupts, expecting a big move. The Dean of Professional Wrestling reaches his feet, and Wildchild leaps, doing a full front flip before connecting with a missile dropkick that not only floors the champion, but sends him rolling to the arena floor.


Pete: “Shooting Star Dropkick, and the only thing that might have saved Hawke there is the fact he rolled to the floor after the move!”


King: “Hey, if Hawke can buy himself some time, the remainder of that time limit could expire, and Hawke would retain the title!”


As Wildchild attempts to get to his feet, Jay Hawke goes over to the timekeeper’s table and grabs the International Championship belt. Wildchild turns around, unaware that Hawke has grabbed the title belt, and Hawke backs toward the ring. Wildchild reaches through the ropes, hoping to grab the champion and pull him into the ring, but Jay Hawke swings, hitting Wildchild in the left shoulder with the title belt. Matthew Kivell has no choice but to call for the bell…








…but as far as Jay Hawke’s concerned, the match isn’t over yet.


Pete: “What the hell is he doing? Jay Hawke is reentering the ring with that championship belt, but the bell’s already sounded!”


King: “I think he’s going to make absolutely sure Wildchild can’t challenge for the championship again, Pete!”


Jay Hawke holds the title belt in the air, drawing more boos from the crowd as he straps it to the top rope. Then, he grabs Wildchild from behind, hooking him into the Wing Span and making damn sure Wildchild is facing the championship belt.


King: “Look at that! Jay Hawke is taunting Wildchild and hurting him at the same time! This is brilliant!”


Pete: “Brilliant? This is totally uncalled for! Hawke was frustrated that he couldn’t put Wildchild away, so now he’s trying to take him completely out of action! What a scum ball!”


Jay Hawke continues to keep the hold locked on as preliminary wrestlers and road agents make their way out to the ring. Hawke finally releases the hold, then raises his arms in the air to a chorus of boos.


Pete: “Can you believe this? This is disgusting!”


Jay Hawke unhooks the belt from the top rope, then holds it about six inches in front of a prone Wildchild’s face.


Hawke: “You see this belt? Enjoy it now, as this is as close as you’re ever going to come to taking it from me!”


Jay Hawke raises the belt high into the air, drawing a series of boos from the crowd as many of the ringsiders begin throwing garbage into the ring.


Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the time of the match, 16 minutes 54 seconds. Jay Hawke has been disqualified. Therefore, the winner of this match is Wildchild!”






Funyon: “However, the title can only change hands on a pinfall or a submission. Therefore, still the SWF International Champion, Jay Hawke!”








Pete: “The crowd doesn’t like it, but it’s the only call Matthew Kivell could have made.”


King: “And Jay Hawke once again finds a way to keep the title. Awesome.”


Pete: “We still have a ton of questions to be answered coming out of this one, but it’s going to have to wait until at least Storm. For Suicide King, I’m Longdogger Pete, saying ‘Good night, everybody’!”

Edited by realitycheck

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