SWF AFTERSHOXXXXZcXXXxXXxX

[the.weej 0]

The opening ceremonies for SWF AftershoX have finally come to a close, leaving in its wake a cheerful, excited crowd, anxious to witness what’s sure to be an amazing night of SWF programming.

 

“HEY HEY!”

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOMM!!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

However, that enthusiasm quickly wanes when Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers, accompanied by a burst of red, white and green pyro that explodes upwards from the stage. A moment later, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts though the pyro-induced smoke, the World Title wrapped around his waist and his Mexican flag flapping gracefully behind him. A broad grin on his face, Magnifico quickly makes his way towards the ring, paying no mind to the hundreds of booing, cursing fans that line his path.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen...” Funyon begins, his vocal chors still warming up. “Please welcome the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...EL LUCHADOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

The crowd rudely ignores Magnifico’s requests and seems to grow even louder as the luchadore climbs into the ring. Not wasting a moment, ELM strides across the canvas and motions for a microphone. Upon receiving one, Magnifico saunters back towards the center of the ring, his eyes closed and his hand stroking his chin thoughtfully.

 

“And it appears we’ll pick up right where Clusterfuck left off.” Pete observes, a note of disdain in his voice. “El Luchadore Magnifico, fresh off a successful defense against JJ Johnson, appears to have something to share with us.”

 

“That’s not necessarily true.” King chimes in. “Maybe Magnifico just wants to grace us with his presence for a little while and have a nice, warm chat. He’s generous and selfless like that.”

 

ELM stands in the center of the ring for a few moments, the crowd getting more annoyed the longer he’s silent. Finally, Magnifico opens his eyes, grins, and brings the microphone to his lips.

 

“So, who was gonna kill me?”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

Magnifico chuckles as the furious crowd soundly boos his opening statement. He’s enjoying every second of this. The luchadore waits for the sound to die down for a moment before speaking again.

 

“Well, I suppose I’d be annoyed too.” Magnifico sympathizes, the infuriating grin still painted across his face. “After all, this is, what, the fourth time you’ve put all you had into hoping I lost my World Title match? And you guys have been disappointed every single time.”

 

“ ‘Oh, but this time will be different.’” ELM states in a mocking falsetto. “That’s what you said to yourselves. In the weeks leading up to Clusterfuck, you mistook JJ’s unfocused violence as a sign that he’d actually defeat me and take my World Title.”

 

“But, as you know, that’s not at all what happened.” Another round of boos follows that statement, and Magnifico graciously pauses to allow that to get it out of their system.

 

“I defeated JJ Johnson after nearly everyone predicted that he would win.” Magnifico continues, his voice growing noticeably sharper. “What do I have to do to convince you people? I’m only one of two Four-Time SWF World Heavyweight Champions. I hold the record for the longest World Title reign in SWF history. I’ve held the belt longer than anyone else in this federation’s history. No one else is even close.”

 

“And yet you still doubt me.”

 

The crowd simply simmers in their anger as Magnifico pauses once more, the smile complete gone from his face. After a moment, he closes his eyes, chuckles, and continues.

 

“Well, it’s not like I give a damn what you people think anyway.” ELM shrugs. “I know that I’m the greatest SWF World Champion there’s ever been, and that’s all that matters.”

 

“Which brings me to my next point...” Magnifico states, eliciting a collective groan from the live audience. “I’ve done everything I can to prove my worth as a World Champion. I’ve successfully defended my belt against every single person put up against me...and now they want me to defend it against an actor?!”

 

Another wave of boos pours in from the live audience as Magnifico shakes his head and laughs in disbelief.

 

“Absolutely unbelievable.” Magnifico states through his laughter. “Okay, sure, the guy won the Clusterfuck. Big fucking deal. All that shows me is that the SWF is in a damn sorry state right now. The other nineteen participants should be ashamed of themselves for allowing this pathetic execuse of a wrestler win a shot at my title.”

 

“Well, I suppose it’s not all bad.” Magnifico admits. “Just means that I get to add more days to my already-amazing reign as World Champion. In fact - ”

 

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

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

 

ELM is cut off in the middle of his sentence by the opening to Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat”, signaling the entrance of one JJ Johnson! Visibly annoyed at the interruption, Magnifico cocks his head towards the entranceway, scowling as the fans that surround him cheer their little hearts out.

 

RRRRRRRRRRAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

 

When Burton C. Bell's throaty growl comes tearing out of the speakers, JJ Johnson bursts out from behind the entrance curtain, a microphone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. A determined glare on his face, he quickly makes his way towards the ring as the delighted fans reach a volume that’ll be hard to top tonight. Every set of eyes in the building focuses on Johnson as he approaches the ring and rolls beneath its bottom rope.

 

“Looks like Johnson is here to offer a rebuttal to Magnifico’s egotistical rambling.” Pete deadpans.

 

“Such partiality.” King shakes his head, disappointed.

 

JJ pops to his feet inside the ring and immediately steps in front of Magnifico, locking eyes with the luchadore. Sensing that a brawl could break out at any moment, the excited crowd remains raucous, everyone inwardly praying for Johnson to simply deck the luchadore in the face. Meeting ELM’s idignant scowl with an intimidating stare, JJ takes a swig of water, then brings the microphone to his lips and finally speaks.

 

“Magnifico.” JJ begins. “There is no one in this federation who recognizes your ability as a World Champion more than I do. It’s because of that that I desperately wanted to defeat you at Clusterfuck.”

 

“Not only did I want to be the World Champion...I wanted to be known as the person who had defeated the legendary El Luchadore Magnifico.” Johnson confesses. “But...unfortunately, I couldn’t make that happen.”

 

The crowd’s gone silent. This isn’t what they wanted to hear. Magnifico’s somewhat surprised himself, and he smirks as Johnson takes a swig of water and continues speaking.

 

“But I can’t accept the way in which our match ended.” JJ firmly states, drawing a few cheers from the encouraged crowd. “I was mere moments away from forcing you to tap out to the Wing Span. I hadn’t even considered that you would reverse it into a pin.”

 

“It was my own foolishness that cost me my match.” Johnson admits. “And...I won’t be satisfied until I get another shot at you, Magnifico!”

 

The crowd roars upon hearing this, delighted with the thought that their might be a rematch. ELM’s entire face seems to sharpen as he stares Johnson down, who, to his credit, doesn’t back down an inch.

 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.” Magnifico spits. “You cause me all sorts of trouble for over a month, lose cleanly to me when our match finally does happen, and then you come out here and demand a rematch?!”

 

“Where do you get off?!” ELM angrily questions. “You don’t deserve another shot at me, for the title or not!”

 

JJ seethes as Magnifico finishes his rant. He balls up his fist and prepares to strike Magnifico, when the luchadore suddenly speaks again.

 

“But all right.”

 

The crowd is shocked. Even JJ seems stunned that Magnifico actually agreed to a rematch.

 

“But, there’s one condition.” ELM continues, the signature smirk returning to his face. “When I beat you the second time, there’s something I want you to give me.”

 

The crowd waits on baited breath, wondering what JJ could have that Magnifico wants. Johnson seems to be wondering the same thing, and remains silent as Magnifico continues.

 

“An apology.”

 

“A what?!” Pete cries. “ELM wants Johnson to apologize? What for?”

 

“How about making Magnifico’s life a massive inconvenience for the past month and a half?” King smugly answers. “This is absolutely perfect. Once ELM beats JJ again, he’ll be forced to swallow his pride and ask for forgiveness from Magnifico.”

 

“It’s bad enough that I beat you and you still have the nerve to speak to me.” Magnifico explains. “But demanding a rematch is inexcusable. Especially after the annoyances you put me through leading up to Clusterfuck.”

 

“So, whattya say?” Magnifico asks, grinning right in JJ’s face. “When I successfully defend my title against you for a second time, you’ll come out to the center of the ring and deliver a heartfelt apology to my face. Agreed?”

 

The crowd carefully watches Johnson, urging him to accept Magnifico’s proposal. After all, it’s not their pride on the line. JJ takes a swig of his water, stares coldly into ELM’s eyes, and brings the microphone to his lips.

 

“All right.”

 

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

“Very good!” Magnifico cries. “I’ll defeat you once more, if that’s what you really want. Me and you, for the World Heavyweight Title, on Lockdown. Afterwards, you’ll have to swallow your pride and apologize to me.”

 

“Not likely.” JJ sharply states. “What’s going to happen is, you’ll have to swallow your teeth and give me that title.”

 

“RAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen!” Pete shouts over the din of the live audience. “On Lockdown, it’ll be a rematch from Clusterfuck, as El Luchadore Magnifico defends his World Title against JJ Johnson!”

 

The final image broadcasted before Aftershox fades to commercial is JJ Johnson and El Luchadore Magnifico, surrounded by a cheering crowd as they stare each other down in the center of the ring...

Edited February 4, 2006 by Justice

[the.weej 0]

Card:

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

The Main Event - Hardcore Match

Insane Luchadore vs. The Crimson Skull ---> Oh yeah. You read that right. Insane f'ing Luchadore is back! Was his death elaborately staged, or did he no-sell the whole thing? Either way, he's returned to the SWF with a newfound interest in the Ultraviolent Division! That could be bad news for The Crimson Skull! Or, it could be great news for The Crimson Skull! What better way to get peoples attention that to take down a man who no-sold his own death?

Rules: Hardcore~!

 

-=-=-=-

 

Candace 'The Joshi Dragon' Okimura vs. Matt 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' Myers

 

---> Well, Candace has been jockeying for more screen time, so it's time to give it to her. Start up to a new path of glory, eh? Well, the first step on King's (Or would it be Queen's?) Road is Matt 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' Myers, who is looking to make a comeback from his showing at the Clusterf**k. Will she regain her honor, or be wooed by this masked man?!

Rules: Standard Singles Match

 

-=-=-=-=-

 

Michael Cross vs. "The Rage" Jason von Dierch ---> After an impressive debut at the Clusterfuck, Michael Cross makes his first appearance on SWF TV! Tonight, he faces a man who came up short in the Clusterfuck, and is itching for a chance to make up for it, Jason von Dierch! ROLLING ROMMELS!

Rules: Standard singles match.

 

-=-=-=-=-

Edited February 4, 2006 by Justice

[the.weej 0]

=========================================

 

"Hi. I'm Ben Hardy, and thi-"

 

"And I'm Sexton Hardcastle!"

 

"-s is Sext-..."

 

"..."

 

"... welcome to SWF Aftershox. Tonight we'll be recapping the events of the Clusterfuck Pay Per View, as well as hearing from some of the winners and losers, not to ment-"

 

"And don't forget tonight's matches!"

 

"..."

 

"..."

 

"First, though, let's look back at the Pre-Pay-Per-View show, SWF Frost, where newcomer Michael Cross made his debut against Ced Ordonez."

 

As we fade out, an audible yelp comes from Sexton, presumably from the steel-toed boot kicking him in the shin.

 

====

 

"Right out of the gate, Cross was ready to fight, but his inexperience soon got the better of him..."

 

Opposite Cross stands The Bemani Cross Wizard who is more than ready to go. The referee stalks into the ring, gives a brief smile to Ced acknowledging his refereeing duty, and then rolls his wrists preparing for the start of the match. He explains to both men that this is a singles match, normal rules applying, and then signals for the bell – we're set to get going underway.

 

Ced stretches one last time, and then attempts to take a circle once around the ring, but is interrupted by the reckless and violently with a fury of chops and elbows that stagger the Bemani Cross Wizard and catch him off guard.

 

"We're underway, Cross wasting no time getting straight to work on Ordonez," Pete explains thoroughly, "However, it appears as if Ced has regained his composure, defending against the eager Michael Cross appropriately."

 

In the ring, Ordonez promptly blocks several of Cross' fury strikes and quickly takes back control of the beginning of this match, pressing Cross to the ropes and then whipping him straight across the ring. Cross rebounds and slides underneath a high kick attempt from Ordonez who fires around and is met with an arm drag from Cross who quickly gets back to his feet. Ordonez hops back to his feet and fires back at the eager Cross with a drop toe hold on Cross who charges right into Ced's trap. Cross picks his head up, and checks his teeth with his hand then moves it from his mouth to his long black hair, cleaning it off of his face, ignoring Ordonez who is stalking him from behind.

 

"Cross is making a rookie mistake here, ignoring the Bemani Cross Wizard who is more than capable of submitting his opponents," Pete rings out, looking to King for some input, who leans back folding his hands over his stomach, uninterested in the action going on in the ring.

 

Cross quickly realizes his mistake, but is too late to resume his position, as Ordonez wastes no time going to work on Cross' left leg delivering stomp after stomp. Cross agonizes in pain, and then shakes off his minor wound and returns to his feet fending off the quick Ordonez. Ordonez backs off, and Cross stands back to his feet, humbled by his opening match defeat to Ced Ordonez. Ced smiles, and then takes a circular lap around the ring, as Cross stands in the center, following him creepily and gloomily waiting for the Bemani Cross Wizard to make his next move.

 

====

 

"The in-experience of Cross is making his a-game look over-matched here tonight," Longdogger respectfully forks out what he sees as Cross begins to once again be overpowered due to sloppy execution. Ordonez wrings the arm out, and takes control of the back with a hammer lock. Ced yanks up on the arm hard putting Cross up on his tip-toes. Mike drags his feet out a bit and attempts the sit maneuver which had garnered him success earlier, however, Ordonez has it well scouted. Ced lets go immediately and delivers a thunderous kick to Cross' back, who pinches his shoulder blades together in agony. Ced rears back and delivers another kick to the back, this time Cross begins to make movement to a standing position, the fans cheering on Ordonez, who is now standing toe to toe with Cross.

 

"Cross making his way back to his feet, and once again we see the Bemani Cross Wizard and Michael Cross square off face to face," PLD watches on.

 

"Is it really important to call this match, I mean, these guys couldn't even carry my jock!" King plays it cool, ignoring his ignorant statement as Pete gets a look of utter disgust on his face.

 

Back to the action in the ring, Cross and Ced are chopping and punching each other stiffly fighting back and forth. Ced steps into it and really wallops Cross on the chest with a nasty chop that leaves a red mark and a ringing sound in everyone's ears. Cross shrugs off the pain and delivers a nasty chop of his own, this one leaving a stinging red mark down the chest of Ordonez similar to a racing stripe on a car. Ordonez wears it proudly and then responds yet again, this time with chop after chop, the crowd cheering loudly as Cross begins to retreat stumbling around the ring while holding his chest. The Bemani Cross Wizard stalks behind him and then pushes Cross' head down bending him over. Ced lifts his leg and delivers a homerun kick sending his shin colliding with Cross' face bowling him over backwards so hard that he rolls through to his stomach.

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!" the crowd responds astonished at the absolutely devastating kick delivered by Ordonez.

 

"What force displayed!" Pete looks on at the action intently.

 

The referee slides into position as Ced turns Cross awkwardly over to his back to make the cover.

 

ONE…!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…...!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE, NO!

 

Cross manages to slide a foot over onto the rope, as Ced looks on shocked that he still hasn't been able to put his opponent away.

 

====

 

"As the match wore on, it began to look like the rookie's first match might be his last-"

 

"But in the end, Michael Cross over-"

 

"Damn it, Sexton, we're not there yet!"

 

"Here we go, Ced is setting himself up for the Fire Soul," Longdogger spouts off excitedly, "You're about to witness something special!"

 

Ced stands, raises his arms, and then descends in motion looking for his finishing move. Through mid-air, Cross fires out of the way and Ced comes crashing down, rolling through the end and swaying back to his feet, the momentum carrying him forward, back turned to Cross who quickly jolts to his feet. Ced stumbles and then turns around only to be met with crushing running enziguri which sends Ced collapsing to his side. Cross takes a moment to catch his breath, and then guns back to his feet, pulling Ced up with him.

 

"Cross has just switched the momentum of this match back into his favor for the first time all night," claims Longdogger so certainly, "Up to now, Cross has taken a lot of damage to his head, let's see how he's able to fair."

 

Back in the ring, Cross has pressed Ced up to the corner and beginning to chop the chest of Ordonez again and again. Ordonez takes a breather after each one, but Cross doesn't let up. Cross rears back and then drives a thudding left knee to the gut of Ordonez who sucks in air and folds in half. Cross takes the opportunity and delivers a right knee, then a left, and then steps up to the second and uses its leverage to deliver one nasty last knee to the face of Ced who falls back into the corner and down into a seated position lazily unable to move. Cross flies off the ropes parallel to the set left of where Ced is seated, runs, and then drives two vicious knees to his face. The crowd delivers a stunned "OOOOOOOO," in response as Ced's body rolls over in dismay, his head hanging somewhat out of the ring now.

 

"An absolutely destructive double knee-like strike driven to the face and sternum of Ced Ordonez, and he looks to be out, 'folks," proclaims Pete, "It's not looking good for the Bemani Cross Wizard right now."

 

Cross taunts to the crowd a bit, who respond accordingly with a boo. Cross ignores it, and drags the leg of Ced, pulling his body to the center of the ring. He signals to the ref who jumps into position to make the count as Cross drops his body over Ced's for the pin.

 

 

 

ONE…!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO……!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…NO, KICKOUT!

 

Ced's body pulls a convulsion-like flinch that just allows him to get his arm up, lifting his shoulder to break the sloppy pin attempted by Cross.

 

"What a mistake made by the youngster, this should've been all wrapped up," Longdogger lectures disappointed, "This kid's got a lot to learn, here in the SWF."

 

====

 

"Ok, now you can say it."

 

"No, the moment's not right anymore."

 

"... I hate you... ugh... but in the end, Cross overcome his rookie mistakes, and landed his first SWF victory."

 

In the ring, Cross is signaling to the crowd for something as Ced stumbles back to his feet with his back turned to Mike. Cross stalks behind the Bemani Cross Wizard, and then kicks the back of Ced's knee, notching him down to a kneeling position. Cross locks in a dragon sleeper, then signals for the finish cutting his finger across his own throat. He drags Ordonez up to his feet, lifts, twists, and delivers a – NO, Ordonez manages to escape landing on his feet and breaking the hold Cross has.

 

"What a reversal out of Cross' finishing move, Silent Rage Syndrome," exclaims Pete excited, "The Bemani Wizard has an excellent opportunity, Cross' back is turned to him!" Next to him, King looks on acting as if to not care about the match what so ever.

 

Cross stumbles, and then turns right into Ced who takes him down by the legs and then signals for the Cross Lightning.

 

"Here we go," proclaims Pete as the crowd joins behind him cheering.

 

Ordonez steps over the leg, looking to lock in his submission finisher, but Cross put his left leg into the back of the Bemani Cross Wizard and boots him forward stumbling. He turns and is met with a thunderous kick to the gut. Cross pulls Ordonez in and then lifts him to his shoulders for a powerbomb. He snaps him down, but his knee sticks out catching Ordonez halfway down with a nasty looking back breaker. Cross rolls him forward and the ref slides into position. Cross waves him away, and then picks Ced back up. Again, he drops him down into the same backbreaker-like powerbomb. The ref looks shocked and the crowd is displeased. Cross follows it up with another of the same move, and Ordonez falls limp to the canvas. He doesn't let up; lifting Ordonez back to his feet, Cross taunts signaling for the end yet again.

 

"All hope for the Bemani Cross Wizard just went out the window," Longdogger suspects tiredly and annoyed.

 

Cross locks in the dragon sleeper, and then again cuts the throat with his finger. He lifts up Ordonez high, turns, and then drives him face first into the mat for the Silent Rage Syndrome. The crowd dies, and the ref looks on without hope. Cross smiles, and then lifts him back to his feet and locks him into a full nelson.

 

"That's enough!" Longdogger seems mad, "This is too far."

 

Cross drops back and delivers a stunning dragon suplex which he bridges for a pin.

 

"He calls that the Devil's Soul Snare" exclaims King, smiling now, "I think I might've been wrong about this kid!"

 

Ced's legs fold right over his own body, as they kick helplessly attempting to escape the 'Snare. The ref slowly slides down and delivers the count.

 

 

 

 

 

ONE…!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO……!

 

The wind in the crowd's sails goes out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEE!

 

Cross lets go of the hold on Ordonez, and he folds back over to his stomach. Cross stands happily and signals to the crowd almost playfully.

 

"HERE'S YOUR WINNER, MY-CHUL CUR-OSSSSSSS!"

 

The referee hangs the hand of Cross up high, and then drops it down going over to check on Ced who appears to be out like a light. "Colony" by In Flames hits the PA system, as Cross stalks his way out of the ring in a completely different tone then he entered.

 

====

 

We end up back in the studio, where Sexton is nursing a black eye, and Hardy is grinning like a fool.

 

"Well, up next, we'll see if Cross can go two for two, as he faces 'The Rage' Jason von Dierch in singles competition. Stay tuned - we'll be right back with the action!"

 

"I think my retina's detached."

 

"Something else will be detached if you don't shut up, you-"

 

FADE OUT

[the.weej 0]

The lights in the arena go straight to darkness as the cameras return from break back to ringside. The crowd falls silent, followed by the sudden appearance of a flickering dark red spotlight near the front of the ring. It takes solid form, and then runs its way up the stage to the top, where it stops on a hooded figure whose head hangs, buried beneath the confines of his hood, hair wet and eerily draping out from under the cloth that masks his face. The spotlight flickers, and then the keyboards solidify it once again as the opening to “Colony” by In Flames ignites the arena in the presence of SWF new-comer Michael Cross. He stands there, still eerily, and now almost stalking. He picks his head up, stands hard atop the stage, and folds his arms. The crowd moderately responds, despite his last victory being viciously over one of the crowd favorites, Ced Ordonez.

 

“Here we go, ‘folks,” chimes in Pete, “If you didn’t catch the Clusterfuck pre-show just this Sunday, you missed the debut of the Suicide Machine, Michael Cross, who viciously destroyed Ced Ordonez.”

 

“Destroy? He annihilated him!” King cuts in now, excitedly anticipating the entrance of Cross, who still stands stalking over the audience.

 

The guitar and drums kicks in, and he begins to trek his way down the ring, the crowd on either side of him reaching, however, receiving no response from the focused Michael Cross, who now stops near the bottom, and looks both ways. He holds out both arms, pulls his abdomen back, and lets out a growl, then slides into the ring quickly under the bottom rope. The lights cut to black and dark red strobe lighting, and cameras begin to go off like wildfire, or so it appears. Cross stops in the middle of the ring and swipes away his hood violently as the lights cut back on. The music fades away, and Cross is left in the center of the ring, looking on up to the stage, awaiting the entrance of his opponent, Jason Von Dierch.

 

“We’re about ready to get underway, awaiting Cross’ opponent, Jason Von Dierch,” claims Pete intently, “Someone whose face hasn’t been seen in a few weeks.”

 

“I’m not so sure that’s a negative,” proclaims King ignorantly, who gets a glaring response from Longdogger.

 

“RAMMSTEIN!”

 

The crowd turns their heads to see a hard-staring Von Dierch standing over the stage watching like an eagle. His jaw is strong and his eyes spell “fierce competitor” to the audience who is enthralled by Von Dierch, another new comer who has been absent for the past few weeks.

 

“Wollt Ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen!”

 

Rammstein’s “Wollt Ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen?” plays loudly over the PA system as Jason stands looking dangerous, pausing, and then walking to the beat.

 

“Von Dierch, while absent, is still looking as impressive as ever – this could be the first true test for both competitors here tonight,” proclaims Pete, “Their styles seem to mesh in such a fashion that we could see an amazing bout here tonight!”

 

King cuts in, “I don’t know about Von Dierch, but Cross is one young gun you just can’t deny – Jason is done for, I’m tellin’ you,” exclaims King ignorant as ever, “The Suicide Machine will notch another win under his belt!”

 

Von Dierch has finally made his way to ringside, starring up at Cross, looking for a point of weakness. Cross looks on anxiously, charging and then catching himself over and over again at Von Dierch who maneuvers around ringside to get a good view of the new blood in SWF.

 

“Cross is looking anxious, last weekend he nearly paid the price to Ced Ordonez with this exact same technique,” claims Pete informatively, “Let’s see how he manages to work here tonight.”

 

The Rage finally makes his way up to the ring, pausing after each step and staring down an almost psychotic looking Mike Cross who awaits his opponent in the ring. Von Dierch steps under the third rope and pauses again to stare down his opposition. Cross turns and kicks the turnbuckle, then swings back around and points at Von Dierch, egging him into the ring. Von Dierch continues to play protagonist, not wavering for Cross whom nearly flips at the length of time which Von Dierch takes to enter the ring.

 

“Von Dierch is prolonging his beating!” King chimes in.

 

“I don’t know about that, but he seems to be playing games with Cross’ head already,” exclaims Pete, retorting quickly to King’s comments, “And this match hasn’t even gotten underway.”

 

The ref asks both men if they’re ready, Cross replying quickly, Von Dierch nodding. He signals for the bell, and the match is underway.

 

“Delay this, Von Dierch,” spits King.

 

At that moment, Cross anxiously charges across the ring throwing a flurry of rights and lefts wildly catching Von Dierch slightly off guard. The Rage stumbles back, but deflects several of the blows after being charged back into the corner. Cross continues to lay it on quickly and thickly wasting absolutely not time getting to work on Von Dierch who doesn’t seem overwhelmed a bit.

 

“Von Dierch should look to slow Cross’ fast-paced, inexperienced offense,” mentors Pete quickly responding to the action in the ring.

 

Just like that, Von Dierch reverses position throwing Cross over and into the corner with strength that clearly over-powers Cross. Mike flails as Jason lays in the chops, slashing at the flesh of the Suicide Machine, who breaths hard after each and every filleting shot on his own skin. The white hot pain bursts the skin which peals away revealing a flesh-colored slit that trickles a nasty line of red surging after each and ever shot, blood now shooting out. Von Dierch rears back and delivers one last slicing chop that sends Cross shooting out of the corner, stumbling and holding his hand tightly over his wound to stop the blood flow, but to no avail.

 

“It’s safe to say that blood just became an intricate part of this match,” claims Pete almost disgusted, “Kids, don’t try this at home!”

 

In the ring, Von Dierch has set himself up perfectly behind Cross who is unaware of Von Dierch’s presence looming just behind him. Von Dierch opens his arms, stalks his prey, and then traps Cross in a vice so tight that his eyes roll to the back of his head. Von Dierch applies it even tighter, as Cross convulses around the ring reaching for anything and everything in site, almost like a chicken whose head has just been severed. Von Dierch pulls Cross’ flailing body away from the ropes, continuing to apply the hold he’s been famous for.

 

“Von Dierch is looking for an early escape with his signature ‘Iron Curtain’ Rear Naked Choke,” exclaims Pete excitedly as Cross continues to stumble around the ring, “Cross isn’t going down without a fight!”

 

“Damn straight,” proclaims King, bewildered.

 

Cross pauses, and Von Dierch latches on with his legs, his whole body now crushing Cross in a snare. Mike stumbles back, looking like a beaten fighter, but catches himself and stops. He turns, his eyes now protruding out from his head and back into a trans-like look at the ropes. The crowd pops and Cross staggers his way over to the ropes at a mad charge to relinquish the choke Von Dierch has on him.

 

“What’s Cross got in mi-…?” Pete’s cut off by the crowd.

 

Cross puts his whole body on the line to evacuate himself from the position he’s in by jumping through the ropes messily taking Von Dierch with him down to the floor and booming in a loud thud that sends both men falling to an inevitable crash.

 

The crowd goes ballistic as Pete attempts to describe what he just saw. “Unbelievable, they don’t call him the Suicide Machine for nothin’,” shouts Pete over the sound of an excited crowd, “This kid just put it all on the line to save himself from losing!”

 

“That’s what it’s about, that’s why he’s in the SWF!” yells King, standing and getting a good look at the disaster site where Cross and Von Dierch lay side by side and totally decimated from the gruesome fall.

 

Both men begin movement on the outside as the referee signals for a count, now up to 6. Contemplating, Cross seats himself on his BUTT looking over at Von Dierch who balances himself steadily on all fours. Cross stamps to his feet, and runs towards Jason firing a thunderous kick to his gut and following it up with several quick stomps. The ref’s impatience causes Cross to slide back into the ring to break the count. Outside, Von Dierch staggers back to his feet. Cross watches from a bird’s eye view, and then begins to stomp up and down, firing back to the ropes opposite Von Dierch, then launching over the ropes closest to the Rage clearing them with ease. Von Dierch turns in time to be met with a huge splash from Cross who once again risks everything to take down Von Dierch a step.

 

“Spectacular dive taken by Michael Cross,” awes Longdogger, “Again, Cross is willing to risk everything to keep the pace and favor of this match tilted in his direction!”

 

“How can you not be impressed by this kid’s talent,” questions King.

 

Again, Von Dierch and Cross lay side by side in a pile similar to the scene just moments before. Both men begin to fidget as the ref looks on concerned, ignoring the count to check both men. Von Dierch turns over as Cross uses the rail to pull himself to leverage. Von Dierch follows closely behind not to be forgotten, pulling himself back to his feet. Cross turns and Von Dierch is right back at it having not even missed a step. Cross takes a slashing chop to the chest, blood oozing from the vicious red wound on his chest yet again. Mike shrugs off the pain and attempts to deliver a chop of his own, but is denied by Von Dierch who crushes Cross with another filleting chop that shreds more skin away, the blood flowing freely from the gaping wound on Mike’s chest.

 

“Shrug it off,” yells King, “Wear it like a scar, Cross!” A confused Pete looks over to King who pays no attention, continuing to look on at the struggling Mike Cross who is now hugging the guard rail for life support.

 

“The wound on Cross’ chest has expanded more than it could’ve been fathomed,” Pete claims, describing the gruesome scene, “That wound is symbolically growing bigger as an aspect of this match; the longer this goes, the more I expect Cross’ chances of winning decline.”

 

On the outside of the ring, Jason Von Dierch shrugs off the many tags the crowd lays on him as he continues his machine-like surgery on Cross’ stability, chopping and punching him down to the ground, breaking him down to nothing more than a wounded animal as he lay defending the nasty cut across his chest with a hand soaked in his own blood. Von Dierch drags Cross back to his feet by his hair and then swats him back down, extending the lead in the match by miles as he continues to destroy the chest wound of Cross. Again and again Von Dierch picks Cross up and throws him back down, smearing the blood from his hand and forearm onto his chest.

 

“Von Dierch is showing his dark side,” says Pete, almost silently, “This is just…gruesome.”

 

Cross lays crippled by the blows near the rail, the ref shouting at Von Dierch who pays not attention. Cross crawls up the side of Von Dierch dragging a thick, smearing line of blood up the side with him, clinging to him for help, as he stands back to his feet unsteadily. Von Dierch watches on, and pushes Cross back against the rail, chopping him viciously again making Cross cry out in agony as two females in the front row (uncharacteristically for the SWF) watch on in horror at the site. Von Dierch lifts Cross and crotches him on the rail, slicing him one last time before climbing to the apron. He signals the death of Cross, springs up to the second rope, and launches backward driving a flying reverse elbow into Mike Cross crotched on the railing who goes flying into the first row of the crowd crushing chairs under the weight of his limp body. Von Dierch pulls himself over a chair, also now in the first row of the crowd, and drags Cross back over the rail viciously by his hair which now has lines of blood in it.

 

“There’s no chance of Cross continuing any kind of face-paced offense from this point on,” proclaims Pete insightfully keeping in mind the devastating blood wound that’s torn through the chest of the Suicide Machine, “There’s just no chance of him recovering from the amount of blood that’s come from his chest.”

 

Cross has now been rolled into the ring, as Von Dierch crawls in after and drags his own battered body over Cross’ who appears to be out.

 

“It’ll be a miracle if Cross can even manage to keep himself conscious, much less alive,” exclaims Longdogger, “Cross looks like he’s thrown up blood all over himself, despite the fact that the wound he’s suffered is on his chest!”

 

The ref slides into position and slowly makes a count to his own dismay, sickened by the blood that’s spewed from Cross’ limp body that lay just inches from his face.

 

 

 

 

ONE…!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…..!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

The crowd is in shock and completely behind the match, their response in utter awe of the tenacity and will in Mike Cross who manages to lift and arm just barely to hand Von Dierch a near fall, the first of the match.

 

“OH, A KICK OUT!” yells Longdogger just as surprised as the fans, now on the edge of his seat, “Cross managed to kick out!” Aside Pete, King looks on stunned by the transpiring events in the ring.

 

The ref holds up a triumphant two fingers to the crowd, then waves them over to Von Dierch who looks utterly stunned by Cross’ kick out despite the blood loss. Von Dierch questions the ref who shakes his head and physically shows how Cross got a shoulder up. He turns back to Cross shaking his head, and lifts him once again, dark red dry spots of blood scattering over the mat as Cross leans and stumbles back to his feet. Von Dierch pushes Cross back and then charges towards him in hopes of hitting a strong lariat. Cross swivels around and ducks the attempt by Von Dierch while stumbling around and catching him fluently with a kick to the gut. Cross quickly locks in a front headlock, reaches down grasping the leg of Von Dierch hooking it, and swings him out driving his upper back and neck thunderously to the ground with a quick swinging fisherman’s neckbreaker. The crowd pops as the momentum begins to turn.

 

“Cross! Cross! Cross just managed to swing the tide of the match single-handedly with what he calls the ‘Blasphemy in Motion’” recalls Pete excitedly, “This match is back to anyone’s control!”

 

In the ring, the ref looks on anxiously, counting as both Von Dierch and Cross lay sprawled out on the mat, their very souls exhaled in an attempt to win the match.

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

THREE…

 

 

FOUR…

 

 

Signs of life begin to show in both men, now moving to reclaim their position on their feet.

 

 

FIVE…

 

 

SIX…

 

 

SEVEN…

 

The ref stops the count as both men stumble, backs turned to each other, back to their feet. Cross turns just as Von Dierch takes a step backward. Cross locks in a full nelson, looking for his finisher The Devil’s Soul Snare. Cross lifts and folds back dropping Von Dierch back on his head. Too weak to hold the pin, Cross lets go and Jason folds over to his stomach, demolished by the devastating suplex laid on him by Cross.

 

“Cross stumbled into gold, but didn’t have the strength to go all the way with it,” exclaims Pete almost exhausted, “Cross was just an inch short of finishing the job!”

 

In the ring, Cross manages to crawl over to Von Dierch and roll him over, laying his own bloody corpse onto Von Dierch in an attempt to salvage a victory from his own sloppy error. The ref slides down into position and makes a thunderous and lengthy count.

 

 

ONE………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO……………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

Cross rolls to his back, totally winded, as Von Dierch resumes movement. The ref signals a two count, Cross too tired and weary to check if he had won or not. The crowd sits theirs butts back into their seats as both men once again crawl back to their feet.

 

“Again, the blood loss from the wound across Mike’s chest left him too incapacitated to make an effective stand against Von Dierch,” claims Pete who is cut off by King.

 

“Von Dierch’s cheap antics allowed him to stack the odds against Cross, damn it, this isn’t right, the ref should stop this,” decides King, “It’s just not fair!”

 

“You…of all people,” retorts Pete, shaking his head.

 

The action in the ring resumes as the ref, Von Dierch, and Cross have all made their way back to their feet, now regaining composure. Von Dierch resumes control over the weak Michael Cross pummeling him back into the corner with several hard fists to the face. Von Dierch snags hold of Cross’ arm and whips him hard across the ring into the opposite corner chest first slamming his wound hard into the corner. Von Dierch fires across the ring and slams into Cross recklessly crushing him with an avalanche splash that sends Cross stumbling back. Von Dierch uses Cross’ direction and thunders off the ropes delivering one hard lariat. Cross thuds to the mat and thunders back up to be met with yet another, and then again for a third that lays him out. Von Dierch signals to the ref who slides over to make the count.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-NO!

 

Cross manages a kick out to hand Von Dierch yet another near fall.

 

“Cross just won’t stay down, he won’t be denied here tonight,” proclaims Pete faithfully backing the young competitor.

 

Von Dierch looks frustrated, pulling Cross back to his feet recklessly and violently. He slaps him around, and then whips him into the ropes. Upon rebound, Jason leans over and attempts his finisher, The Crumbling Wall sidekick, narrowly missing the head of Cross who manages to duck his blood soaked abdomen over and under the leg of Von Dierch who turns around only to be met with yet another swift and thunderous kick to the gut by Cross.

 

“Von Dierch’s frustration has led him to make crucial mistakes that have allowed Cross to keep himself in the match,” claims Pete, “Had that kick been hit at a more appropriate time, I’m confident this match would’ve been done!”

 

“No chance, Longdogger, no chance!” King’s outrageous claims spark a look of distaste on the face of his co-anchor, PLD.

 

Cross pulls the head of Jason under his arm and lifts him up into a suplex. Cross stumbles around the ring, Von Dierch’s legs dangling looking ready to topple the weak Suicide Machine right over. Cross pauses, holds firmly, and then drops the twisted and bridged body of Von Dierch down and onto his head for a nasty, sloppy looking brainbuster that gets an “OOOOOOOH!” out of the crowd. Cross rolls over and attempts to take a breather, having bought himself some time. By the time he’s regained his composure, Von Dierch has gotten back to his feet. Cross turns and is shoved backward, stumbling into the ref and pushing him right through the ropes and down to the floor, collapsing and laying out almost unconscious. Cross looks around, turning his back to Von Dierch who stalks Cross.

 

“The ref is dead, DEAD,” yells Longdogger angrily, “There’s no way he can recover from that! NO, CROSS, LOOK OUT!”

 

In the ring, Cross turns around only to be met with a crushing sidekick that sends him crumbling to his side, almost completely passed out and certainly completely stunned. Von Dierch ignores the knocked out ref and drags the limp corpse of Michael Cross to the center of the ring. He places one hand on the bloody chest and points to the air. A crowd count ignites.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

Von Dierch looks on annoyed by the lack of a ref, and the crowd gives off a solemn boo. He stands, looks down at the bloody wound smeared all over the chest and face of Cross and then looks over to the turnbuckle. He strides over and begins to untie the padding.

 

“Oh, c’mon, what is this?” Pete raves on at the tweening role played by Von Dierch who momentarily looks to cheat to win the match.

 

Von Dierch looks back at Cross, tossing aside the padding. He drags him to his feet and pushes him to the opposite corner of the scene of the crime committed by The Rage himself. Von Dierch signals for the end, and whips Cross over.

 

“NO! WAIT, YES, YES, YES!” proclaim both King and Longdogger who look at each other awkwardly having cheered for the same wrestler.

 

In the ring, Cross reverses the whip launching Von Dierch towards the exposed turnbuckle. Jason flies towards it but is able to drag his feet and stop himself. He pushes off the turnbuckle and turns to see Michael Cross flying towards him. He moves and pushes Cross chest first into the exposed buckle which sends Cross flying to his back screaming in agony that rings throughout the ears of the crowd who all cringe at the bloody mess that’s left from the disaster that just claimed the Suicide Machine.

 

“Not like this…not like this…” says Pete, nearly whispering in distraught at the way the contest appears to be nearly over.

 

The ref begins showing signs of life, as he grasps the apron and pulls himself up just in time to see Von Dierch draping his body over the nearly dead body of Cross laid out, blood everywhere. The ref slides slightly into the ring to make the cover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE…!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO….!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEE!

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

The ref calls off the count and points to the arm of Cross which has been lifted just slightly off the mat to break the count. The crowd goes nuts in response to the near fall, as Pete and King look on in total shock.

 

Von Dierch stands and lectures the ref who shrugs it off and point to Cross explaining the two count once again to Von Dierch who fails to listen, turning and dragging Cross back to his feet. Von Dierch turns a limp Cross and signals for the choke, his ‘Iron Curtain’, taking too long, Cross guts Von Dierch with a crushing elbow, and then does a standing switch. The crowd goes wild for the match as Cross lifts and locks in a quick full nelson. He drops back and crushes the spine and neck of Von Dierch with the Devil’s Soul Snare.

 

The ref slides into position, the crowd on their feet.

 

“OOOOOOONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

”THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

Cross lets go just at the last second to get the pinfall over Von Dierch who lays flat on his stomach holding the back of his head having been caught completely off-guard.

 

“HERE’S YOUR WINNER, MY-CHULLLLL CU-ROSSSSSSS!”

 

The crowd stands and gives off a strong applause cheering for both men in a fantastic back and forth contest. Cross’ music hits, but before he gets off all fours, the lights cut.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The match is finally over,” recites Pete exhausted, “Yet another impressive showing for the SWF youngster Michael Cr-,” Pete is suddenly cut off when the lights go dead and the arena is swept into darkness.

 

The crowd files to their feet as cameras and lighters flicker throughout the arena like a plague. The sound of cheers and excited fans overtake the audio, until the crowd is met with the phrase “I’M ON MY WAY!” from Akira Kaibatsu’s entrance theme “Main Offender” by the Hives. The crowd loses it, and camera-like light explosions overtake the main picture.

 

“My God, that’s Akira Kaibatsu’s theme!” Pete responds ecstatically.

 

The lights click back on, and the crowd cheers, sending electricity sweeping through the crowd. An exhausted Michael Cross is on all fours, looking up at Mr. Kobe and Akira, who stare down at him intently, as if looking to square off. Cross hangs his head and slumps to his feet, and takes a fighting stance. The two look ready to go at it until Kobe steps forward. The crowd pauses and a sudden silence pinches the audience.

 

“What…what is this,” questions Pete, “What is Kobe doing?”

 

Kobe stands for a moment, and then raises a hand respectfully to Cross who looks bewildered. He smirks, and then takes a grab at Kobe’s hand who accepts Cross. Akira looks on, and offers a hand to Cross. The crowd is shocked and Pete as well as King is left in silence, pondering what actually just happened.

 

“Could this be, could this be the Asia Underground we’ve been hearing about?” Pete sounds ready to explode with questions, however, the lights cut out again and the titantron reads “The Asia Underground, coming soon” in flaming text. The lights come on and the crowd is stunned, the 3 men who had graced the audience with their presence are now gone.

 

“What just happened, WHAT JUST HAPPENED,” demands King.

 

“I…don’t know,” claims Pete, quietly.

 

The SWF cameras cut to commercial.

[the.weej 0]

SWF Aftershox returns to the studio, where Ben Hardy stands alone next to a large television monitor, with Bruce vs. Akira - JAPANESE DEATHMATCH on the screen.

 

"Welcome back to Aftershox. Now, once the Pre-Pay-Per-View festivities were over, the Clusterfuck itself opened with a bang - literally. Bruce Blank and-"

 

"That was my line!"

 

"GET BACK IN THE CORNER, SEXTON!"

 

*whimper*

 

"... Bruce Blank and Akira Kaibatsu capped off their best of five Ultraviolent series with one of the most dangerous matches in the industry - a Japanese Deathmatch. The rules are simple - the match is fought inside an electrified steel cage, submission or pinfalls only... and if no winner is decided after 15:00, the ring explodes."

 

===

 

"Naturally, if I were in a match that had a 15:00 minute countdown to certain death, I would want the match to be over quickly. Apparently, so did Akira."

 

With Bruce's back turned Akira quickly leaps up on the top rope and then climbs up on the "not yet" electrified cage and balances himself on the top of the steel structure while he waits for just the right moment.

 

AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!!

 

"What is this moron doing? Doesn't he know it's supposed to be kept in the cage?" King complains as Akira looks poised on top of the cage.

 

"You know the irony of you complaining about someone breaking the rules is so ironic it blew out my ironic-meter" Pete says

 

"So don't ask me no questions

And I won't tell you no lies

So, don't ask me about my business

And I won't tell you goodbye"

 

The moment Bruce begins to turn back towards the cage Akira leaps off the 15 foot high steel structure, leaping over the hood and truck cab of Bruce's truck as the camera angle reveals that he's still wearing the samurai armor on his right arm.

 

Akira flies straight at Bruce striking the Ultraviolent champion with pinpoint precision as he knocks the big man down to the floor of the truck bed with a flying forearm. Akira comes crashing down right on top of Bruce and then rolls with the momentum to leap back to his feet as the crowd goes completely nuts

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

"Akira goes completely Kamikaze on Bruce" the Suicide King says as he tries to talk over the cheering of the fans.

 

"Well that is fitting for a guy called the Divine Wind isn't it?" Pete replies

 

"Huh?" Is the only thing King can say as he's totally lost

 

"Kamikaze is Japanese for Divine Wind" Pete quickly explains.

 

Akira raises his right arm in the air and pumps his fist in excitement over striking the first blow as the crowd chants his name. As Bruce gets up Akira unstraps the metal armor on his right arm dropping the metal forearm protector that he struck Bruce with just moments ago. With his side turned to Bruce he waits for the Ultraviolent champion to get back onto his feet, waiting patiently until Bruce has managed to drag himself up before striking with a perfect Superkick right to the jaw.

 

*POW!!*

 

The impact knocks Bruce backwards over the top of the Truck cab and then sliding on his back down over the hood of the truck before flopping to the ground unceremoniously.

 

"We're 15 minutes away from an explosion!!" King yells out excitedly as the Ultraviolent title match is under way.

 

"Erm… maybe not. Ced hasn't started the timer yet" Pete points out.

 

He is quite right, Ced Ordonez is just leaning back against the ropes, waiting inside the cage seemingly not very interested in the fight on the floor or in starting the counter. Meanwhile Akira has crawled over the cab of the truck and is now standing on the hood looking at Bruce on the floor. Akira raises his right arm into the air, leaps off the hood of the Ford Truck. . .

 

 

And strikes Bruce with a perfect flying elbow drop square in the chest

 

"Shades of Randy Savage!"

 

AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!!

 

"I don't think anyone expected the match to start like this King – Bruce usually starts out pretty strong but it's been all Akira so far" says Pete.

 

"Don't write him off yet Drainclogger, Bruce isn't out of the match by any stretch of the imagination" King replies curtly.

 

When Akira points to the door the crowd explodes in cheers once more as they've been looking forward to the electrified cage for days now. Akira grabs Bruce by the back of his shirt and his jeans and tosses the Ultraviolent champion into the cage, belt still around his waist and all. A moment later the Divine Wind is in the cage as well and now the Japanese Deathmatch can TRULY begin.

 

"Alright hereeeeeeeeeeeeeeee we go!!" King says as he rubs his hands

 

====

 

"Both men began to jockey for position, neither one wanting to be the first to get fried."

 

After a second blow to the left arm Bruce drags the belt down across Akira's bicep and draws several lines of blood across his opponent's skin as the barbwire does it's damage. The referee should technically take the belt away from Bruce as it's not part of the stipulation but Ced doesn't look like he could give a damn, he's busy looking up at the clock as it counts down.

 

"The eyes of everyone in the arena keep glancing at the clock" says Pete.

 

"Except for Akira who's looking at the blood on his arm and Bruce who's busy taking Akira apart" King replies pointing out that 2 sets of eyes haven't even glanced at the clock yet.

 

After having done the damage to Akira's left arm Bruce drops the Ultraviolent title and then drags the hurting Akira back to his feet. Bruce's grin reveals his evil intentions as he Irish whips Akira towards the ropes and the electrified cage

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOooo…

 

… aaahh!!

 

 

The crowd screams in horror as it looks like Akira will hit the electrified cage but then breathe a sigh of relief as Akira throws himself down on the canvas to prevent that from happening. The Divine Wind is quickly back on his feet, holding his left arm to stop some of the bleeding but not prepared to back down from the self proclaimed "King of Pain" even for a moment.

 

"That was close, too close for Akira's comfort" Pete says as he breathes a sigh of relief.

 

"Oh come on what's the fun of an electrified cage if no one is thrown into it?" King asks.

 

Bruce quickly locks up with Akira in the traditional collar and elbow tie-up and tries to use his power and leverage to push Akira back into the cage. Showing that there is more to moving someone than power Akira uses his position and balance to side step and twist his body in such a way that Bruce is being pushed forward towards the cage instead.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAaa…

 

…oooooh!!

 

Just as they crowd thinks that Bruce is going to hit the cage the big man plants his cowboy boot solidly on the canvas and stops his forward momentum before he touches the electrified cage. When Bruce turns around he's greeted with a picture perfect drop kick right to the chest that sends Bruce backwards 3 steps and perilously close to the cage now.

 

"Whomever hits the cage first will be at a huge disadvantage King, that cage will do a LOT of damage." Pete says.

 

"It's hooked up to 110 volts Pete, the whole cage is a lethal weapon" King adds just in case anyone has forgotten that the cage is actually electrified.

 

With Bruce so close to the cage Akira turns up the speed as he eyes a golden opportunity, he quickly lands a stiff kick across Bruce's chest that rocks the big man but fails to knock him into the cage. A second kick goes high over Bruce as he ducks down and Akira is actually only about an inch or two from kicking the actual cage.

 

"Man he just averted disaster there, he can't get too reckless in an environment like this" says Pete as they watch Akira leap frog over a Bruce charge.

 

====

 

"And a few minutes later, the first contact was made..."

 

Akira quickly gets back to his feet and drags Bruce up again then the Divine Wind grabs Bruce by the back of his hair and tries to slam his face into the electrified cage. Bruce manages to bring his right leg forward and plant his steel tipped cowboy boot firmly on the canvas to block his forward momentum and keep his face out of harms way much to the disappointment of the crowd.

 

Looking to repay the favor Bruce grabs the Divine Wind by the mask and tries to drive him face first into the electrified cage instead, but the smaller more nimble man manages to put a foot up on the ropes to block the attempted electrocution. A moment later Bruce finds himself wishing he had Akira's nimbleness as Akira finally manages to fling the big man back first into the cage.

 

*ZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAA*

 

Bruce's whole body convulses as the electricity courses through it, huge showers of sparks shoot out from the points where Bruce's body touches the steel cage and causes the electricity to leap THROUGH him.

 

*ZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAA*

 

With his muscles seized up by the electricity Bruce has no way of breaking contact with the cage himself, but the gods above smile on him though as ring ropes pull Bruce away from the cage just enough to break contact between flesh and steel but not before a power surge explodes all around Bruce resulting in a huge shower of sparks.

 

*BOOM!!*

 

"Oh thank the lord almighty, I thought Bruce was done for" Pete says with relief as Bruce's contact with the cage is broken.

 

"I'll be you anything that he smells of fried bacon right about now, extra crispy" King quips, using humor to cover up just how horrifying that scene was

 

With the electricity no longer coursing through his body, Bruce's muscles can finally relax and the big man slowly sinks to his knees, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull as he slumps forward without even attempting to break his fall in any way. The camera moves in to get a good shot of Bruce laying on the canvas, face down revealing dark burns that run down his back where he made contact with the cage.

 

Akira nudges Bruce with his foot but doesn't get a reaction, then he nudges him again but still no movement from the self proclaimed "King of Pain"

 

"He could have the victory right here King, this could be the end of Bruce's record breaking title reign" Pete says excitedly.

 

"It doesn't look good" King reluctantly admits.

 

Akira reaches down to roll the big man over on his back so that he can pin him, but when Akira has him half way over on his back Bruce reaches out and either by instinct or by pure LUCK manages to grab Akira by the waistband of his trunks and pull him forward

 

Sending the Divine Wind lunging forward between the top and 2nd rope, shoulder first into the cage.

 

*ZZZZZZZZZ*

 

"AKIRA HIT THE CAGE!!" Pete screams as he watches in horror

 

*ZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Bruce's desperation move took Akira by so much surprise that he did not even have time to put his hands up to protect himself as he fell into the cage, this means that he ends up ramming his shoulder and side of his head right into the electrified bars as a shower of sparks engulfs the masked Japanese superstar.

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

The short circuit explosion sends Akira backwards again onto the canvas where he lays without moving as smoke drifts up from his shoulder and especially his mask that's singed and torn on the side it hit the cage.

 

"Man don't they know California has strict "Non-smoking" rules?" King quips

 

"Will you be serious?" Pete says as he apparently channels Gorilla Monsoon.

 

====

 

"With two minutes to go, a winner had yet to be decided..."

 

02:00

 

With just under 2 minutes until the bombs goes off Bruce raises his right hand in the air, fingers spread out signaling for the Iron Claw as Akira drags himself up to his knees, his vision blurred with blood and his body ravaged by the electrified cage. Before Akira is able to do anything to prevent it he feels Bruce's 5 fingers lock on his forehead and start to squeeze with every ounce of power left in his battle weary body.

 

"It's the Von Erich Claw!! I heard that he learned that when he worked as a farm boy for the Von Erichs in the late 80ties – it was also how Fritz got the cows to produce more milk" The Suicide King quips mixing facts with fiction.

 

"Will you stop?? These guys are on the verge of hell and you're making jokes??" Pete fires back at his co-commentator

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

Akira tries to pull his head away from Bruce's trap like grip but the big man has the hold expertly applied staying in firm control of the match. He is even able to use his badly damaged left hand to keep Akira down on his knees to increase the leverage and thus the pressure on Akira's skull

 

"COME ON GIVE UP!! GIVE UUUUUUUUUUUP!!" Ced yells at Akira as he keeps glancing at the clock

 

01:30

 

Initially Akira struggles to get free from the Iron Claw, arms flailing left and right to try and break loose from the submission hold but as Bruce keeps the pressure up the Divine Wind's movement dwindles as the pain starts to get to him.

 

"HANG IN THERE AKIRA!!" the Suicide King surprisingly yells out.

 

"What the?" Pete blurts out in surprise

 

"Well I want to see the damn explosion Pete! The fans in the arena want to see the explosion – the viewers at home PAID for the explosion!" King says as the entire arena are on their feet following every move in the match

 

AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!!

 

Ced has his hand raised in the air, poised to call for the bell the second it looks like Akira is out cold, just dying to end this match before the time runs out but so far he's had no suck luck.

 

"GIVE UP YOU LITTLE BASTARD" Bruce roars as he digs the tips of his fingers even deeper into Akira's skin – if the Divine Wind wasn't already bleeding heavily everyone would be able to see small trickles of blood running from each place Bruce is pressing the tips of his fingers into the skull.

 

01:00

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

Ever so slowly Akira's arms drop down by his side and he starts to sag a bit instead of leaning on his knees as the pressure just gets to him. Ordonez quickly moves in and raises both of Akira's arms in the air, since Akira refused to tap out Ced now eyes an opening to end the match. Ced releases both of Akira's arms

 

And they drop once

 

Then he quickly lifts them up in the air again, holds them there for a moment to gauge if Akira even moved before he released them a second time

 

For the second time his arms drop down limb by his side, no movement, no attempts at keeping them up.

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

For the third time Ordonez grabs both of Akira's arms by the wrists and raises them into the air for the third time.

 

"Man this could be it, this could be all she wrote King"

 

00:30

 

Ced releases Akira's wrists for the third time and is about to motion for the bell to ring when to his, Bruce's , Pete's, King's, the time keeper's, the fan's and the viewers at home's surprise Akira clenches his fists and keeps both arms raised half way in the air.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" the Suicide King screams as he echoes the sentiment of most of the fans in the arena.

 

"It's not over yet" Pete says

 

"Soon – very soon"

 

With his fists clenched Akira tries to summon enough heart and determination to fight back – for a moment it doesn't seem to matter that his left arm is lacerated 7 ways from Sunday, for a moment it doesn't matter that he's bleeding from his mouth, nose and forehead, for a moment it doesn't matter that the back of his neck and shoulder looks like overcooked bacon

 

As he thrusts his right hand upwards and by sheer willpower manages to knock Bruce's right hand off by striking it at the wrist.

 

00:10

 

"OH SHIT" Ced Ordonez yells as he looks up at the clock

 

00:09

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

00:08

 

Akira's second blow is thrown blindly but he manages to drive his elbow into Bruce's private parts giving Bruce a small, personal preview of what agony lies ahead of both of them

 

00:07

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

00:06

 

Bruce staggers forward, doubled over from the low blow

 

00:05

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

00:04

 

Akira manages to drag himself back to his feet when he looks up and realizes how close the explosion is

 

00:03

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

00:02

 

Ced screams a loud, high pitched girly scream as the last seconds tick down

 

00:01

 

¤OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-WWWWEEEEEEHH!¤

 

00:00

 

¤BOOM!!¤ - ¤BOOM!!¤ - ¤BOOM!!¤ - ¤BOOM!!¤

 

First smaller charges go off on each side of the cage as a prelude to the huge fireball that engulfs the entire cage and all of the ringside area that's been cleared especially for this match

 

¤BOOOOOOOOOM!!¤

 

====

 

"The bombs went off, and for a second, it looked like the match may have ended right then and there...

 

Once the fireball dies out everyone in the arena just stand and watch the smoke filled cage in complete and utter silence. Nothing is visible in the cage as the smoke from the explosion only slowly lifts gradually revealing that none of the competitors nor Ced Ordonez are standing after the explosion.

 

"We can't have a draw can we Pete? I mean this match WILL settle it once and for all right?" King inquires as they watch the ring.

 

"We can't have a draw, we can't have a no contest tonight, even if we have to sit here for 20 minutes and wait for one of them to wake up" Pete states categorically.

 

After a few more minutes the smoke has dissipated enough we see Akira on his back, not even moving a finger. We also see Bruce on the canvas, but he's got referee Ced Ordonez draped over his lower body.

 

"What the hell? Can we see a replay of the last couple of seconds before the explosion" King asks as he tries to figure out what happened with Bruce and Ced.

 

¤¤¤¤¤ Instant Replay ¤¤¤¤¤

We're whisked back to a few seconds before the bombs go off as we watch Bruce stagger forward in slow motion while holding his crotch.

 

Akira looking up at the clock as it slowly ticks from 00:03 to 00:02

 

Ced Ordonez screaming like a little girl behind his protective outfit as Bruce grabs him and pulls the scared referee in front of himself a split second before the bombs go off.

¤¤¤¤¤ End Replay ¤¤¤¤¤

 

"Did I see that right? Did Bruce use Ced for protection?" Pete asks all confused.

 

"I think he did – but Bruce is still down after the blast" King adds, as confused as Pete is right now.

 

"I hear from the back that we've got another camera angle on the incident that may shine some light on the subject

 

¤¤¤¤¤ Instant Replay ¤¤¤¤¤

This time we see the scene from the opposite side where Bruce slowly pulls the smaller referee in front of him as the clock ticks down to 00:01, but the camera also clearly shows us that Ced crouches down to protect himself just as the bombs go off and that Bruce's face is dangerously close to the explosions.

¤¤¤¤¤ End Replay ¤¤¤¤¤

 

When they return to the live feed the smoke has cleared from the ring and we get a close up of Akira and Bruce on the canvas. After a moment or two Akira finally moves as he slowly rolls over on his side to try and sit up straight

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

 

"Akira is still ali-" Pete begins to say but is interrupted as Akira flops back down on the mat again totally motionless as he lays there with his arms stretched out to the side.

 

"Oh my god! Have you seen what happened to Bruce?" King says as the camera zooms in on the side of Bruce's head as he lays on the canvas.

 

Bruce's left ear looks like it's partially torn off, the explosion that caught him unprotected did a lot of damage to his ear that's hanging at a weird angle and bleeding profusely. After another moment or two Ced Ordonez finally raises his head and looks around, then he quickly gets to his feet and begins to laugh in relief as the suit took most of the damage and he's relatively unharmed.

 

"Damn it! I was looking forward to seeing Ced all crispy" King says with genuine disappointment.

 

"So we've got a referee who's up but we've no motion otherwi…"

 

"HOW THE HELL CAN HE EVEN MOVE" King yells, interrupting Pete as Bruce's hand starts to tap the canvas trying to locate Akira Kaibatsu

 

"I can't believe we're seeing this – Bruce has been busted open, he's bleed all over himself, the ring, Akira and Ced Ordonez, his ear has been mangled in the explosion yet he's moving?" Pete says amazed at the human drama unfolding in the ring.

 

After feeling around on the canvas for a few moments Bruce finally finds Akira's hand and slowly drags himself over towards his opponent. Without raising his head from the canvas Bruce manages to drag himself close enough to drape an arm over Akira's chest for a very weak cover.

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

"Akira moved before but that could have been the last ditch effort for a man who took the bomb blast totally unprotected" Pete says as Ced Ordonez counts the pin-fall at a regular speed.

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

"Even if he was only partially protected Bruce still seems to have gotten the advantage." King surmises.

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen the winner of the 5th and deciding match – AND STILL THE SWF ULTRAVIOLENT CHAMPION, THE KING OF PAIN BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!"

 

The crowd is stunned, the brutality of the match was beyond what they had expected and in the end Akira had come within a hair's breath of victory only to see it snatched away from him at the very last moment. As much as they despise Bruce the crowd shows both wrestlers a lot of respect for what they put their bodies through by refraining from booing or jeering as the SWF medical staff rushes to the ring to attend to both wrestlers.

 

"Bruce won – barbwire, electric cage, bombs and in the end he retained the gold." King states

 

"But will he ever be the same again? You don't go through a match like this without it affecting you" Pete points out

 

"And it's not over yet for Bruce – he's got a spot in the ClusterFuck coming up later on as well" King reminds him "Bruce better pray that he's got a high number so he has some time to get patched up"

 

"From the looks of it he could have drawn number 347 and he'd still not be ready to walk down the aisle again tonight" Pete adds

 

In the ring the EMTs are trying to put Bruce on a gurney but the Ultraviolent champion groggily pushes them away each time they attempt to do so – in the end two SWF officials helps Bruce to the edge of the ring and then supports him as he drapes his arms over both of them and use them to support him as he slowly walks to the back.

 

====

 

Back to the studio, where Hardy still stands alone, with Sexton sitting on a stool in the corner, wearing a crudely assembled Dunce cap.

 

"In the end, Bruce Blank retained his Ultraviolent title, and his record-setting reign will continue... for now. Don't go away, folks, because we've got more Hardcore action coming up! We'll be recapping the events of the Clusterfuck Battle Royale, and Aftershox's main event will see the return of the Insane Luchadore in a no-holds-barred match! All that and more, coming up on Aftershox!"

 

Fade out...

[the.weej 0]

We’re backstage where Ben Hardy is standing in front of a SWF banner ready to interview Bruce Blank. Blank looks like he shouldn’t even be standing up, much less talking right now as he’s feeling the effects of both the Best of 5 series and his double duty in the ClusterFuck PPV.

 

“Bruce… “ Ben starts but he just can’t take his eyes off Bruce and he looks a little uneasy about the whole thing. The heavy bandage over Bruce’s left ear and the staples & stitches on his forehead are gruesome reminders of just how brutal the last Ultraviolent title defense was.

 

“Mr. Blank” Ben then says as Bruce doesn’t react when Hardy starts the interview.

 

But again no reaction from Bruce as he leans on the crutch and tries to keep the weight off his taped up right knee. Or maybe it’s the pain from his broken left fist – a fist that was actually broken going INTO the Japanese Deathmatch as Bruce had fractured it during the Thumbtack match.

 

Hardy gulps and then taps Bruce gently on the shoulder to get his attention

 

“Bruce”

 

“What? I’ve been standing here waiting for you to say something and you’re just screwing around” Bruce says in his usual abrasive southern drawl

 

“I… I spoke” Ben says as he turns pale.

 

“Oh ditcha? Well you’ll excuse me, but I can’t hear shit on my left ear” Bruce says as he points to the bandaged up ear

 

“SO – YOU’RE - DEAF?” Hardy says, making sure he speaks loud and slow.

 

“Just on my left ear you idiot! Doctors say it’s probably just temporary, but they weren’t sure” Bruce says as his facial expression reveals the level of contempt Bruce has for doctors.

 

“I’m sorry for starring… but shouldn’t you really be at home? Recuperating after the ClusterFuck and all?” Ben says.

 

“Any sane man probably would have” Bruce says as he winces in pain from moving his left arm.

 

“But not you?”

 

“Naw Benny, you just can’t keep us Southern boys down. I mean didn’tja watch the PPV? First I took out Akira and then I survived the ClusterFuck match” Bruce says.

 

“But Wes Davenport won it” Ben boldly states

 

“He beat 18 men Benny – but he didn’t beat me, he didn’t put me down and as far as I’m concerned that says something. I went out there with a to prove and I proved it!! It ain’t about winning a title shot at Eeeel Lunchador, it ain’t about gold or glory Benny. It’s about being a MAN! It’s about getting the job done!” Bruce says with conviction.

 

“Excuse me for saying this – but right now you don’t look like you got the job done. How long will it be before you’re cleared to get back in the ring?” Ben asks

 

“How long till the next show?”

 

“Well Lockdown is in 5 days” Ben starts to say but is cut off

 

“Then I’ll be in the ring in 5 days, by hook or by crook I’ll be in that damn ring just you watch me. You saw me practically drag myself across the ring after the bombs went off and then still entered the ClusterFuck match. I had under an hour to recuperate from the first match and I still went out there and stood tall.” Bruce states

 

“Will you get medical clearance by then?”

 

“I’m sorry what? Speak up son you’re talking to my deaf ear” Bruce says obviously ignoring Ben’s question.

 

“Alright shifting gears” Ben says quickly abandoning that line of questions.

 

“Yes I wish you would”

 

“You’re the longest running Ultraviolent champion in SWF history, hell you RENAMED the entire division because of your dominance. What’s next for Bruce Blank?”

 

Bruce ponders the question for a moment or two as he stares off into the distance, then after contemplating the question he looks at Ben Hardy once more and says.

 

“More carnage, more blood, more Ultraviolence!! I’m not backing down from anyone, I’m not a’scared of anyone – they can’t do what I do in an Ultraviolent environment and I’ve been proving it for 154 days straight now!”

 

“Will you be watching the main event then?” Hardy says, asking the question he’s been dying to ask all night.

 

“Why? Who’s wrestling?” Bruce says proving once again that if it doesn’t involve him he doesn’t pay attention to it.

 

“Well it’s a Hardcore match between the Crimson Skull and the returning Insane Luchador” Hardy quickly explains

 

“Insane Luchador? Isn’t he dead?” Bruce asks, he looks a little confused.

 

“Erm… well… no” Ben says clearly uncomfortable talking about the stunt that SWF pulled.

 

“Hmm” Bruce grunts

 

His parting reply before limping off stuns Ben Hardy as Bruce says.

 

“That’s a shame”

 

*Fade Out*

[the.weej 0]

Now available from SWF Films… the Re-Release of a Wes Davenport classic!

 

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

 

It was a time when no one would believe in a hero…

 

Pictures of Depression-Era Canada, with hundreds of lumberjacks standing in food lines before the screen fades to black as disembodied voices continue the exposition.

 

But a hero would rise…

 

"I want to be a professional curler, mom!"

 

"That's nice, dear…"

 

Despite all odds…

 

"I'm sorry, son, you've lost both your hands. You'll never sweep again."

 

"I'll never say never! You just watch!"

 

To become the hero of a nation…

 

"WE BELIEVE, EH! WE BELIEVE, EH!"

 

Starring Christopher Walken as the Coach of Soviet Bear Punch Doj-Er, Curling Team…

 

The scene fades in on Christopher Walken wearing a red karate gi, skating across the ice.

 

"What… is our… motto, children?"

 

"SWEEP FIRST! SWEEP HARD! NO MERCY-SKI!"

 

"I… can't hear you."

 

"SWEEP FIRST! SWEEP HARD! NO MERCY-SKI!"

 

With Keanu Reeves as Joeymir, Ricky's eternal rival…

 

The scene cuts to Keanu, wearing his black jumpsuit, conferring with Walken.

 

"Dude, I can totally take this guy! I am the One…ski!"

 

"You… take him out… that's an… order."

 

"But I know Kung-Fu…ski!"

 

"I… don't care. You… take him… out."

 

And Wes Davenport as Ricky's stern coach, Mario Van Gretzky.

 

We switch over two Davenport, whose back faces the camera as he talks to an off-screen Ricky.

 

"I won't take a bum like you, Rocky."

 

"Ricky."

 

"Ricky. You got talent, but I don't know if you got the HEART. Why should I take a chance on YOU?"

 

And finally, Cuba Gooding Jr. as Ricky McMasters…

 

The scene pulls back to show Cuba Gooding Jr, lacking any hands, pleading with him on his knees.

 

"Cause I got nowhere left to go!"

 

And also ALSO starring Marisa Tomei, as Lonnie, the girl who never gave up on him...

 

"Aww… Why ya gotsa be so ha'd on yaself?"

 

"Because, Lonnie, I have to! I must succeed! I must succeed… for CANADA!"

 

It's a story of hard-work…

 

The two men walking into a dimly lit black room full of movie theatre chairs. Cuba shows a face of disgust. Many very… unclean sound effects can be heard as they walk across the floor.

 

"Dear God, what is this place?"

 

"An adult movie theatre, Rocky-"

 

"-Ricky-"

 

"-Ricky. If you can sweep here… you can sweep anything."

 

Davenport finishes up as he shoves a broom into the nubs of Cuba, who begins awkwardly brooming with his forearms.

 

Cut to Cuba sitting down, back facing the camera, as Davenport writes on a dry erase board.

 

"Look, it's not the size of the broom… but the uh… motion of the ice!"

 

With that, Wes scribbles randomly on the board.

 

"Got that, Rock?"

 

If you've never believed before…

 

Cut to Keanu Reeves, jumping in SUPER SLOW MOTION FULL 360 CAMERA SPIN to crack Ricky's broom in half with one well-placed Kung-fu kick.

 

 

"Coach, they broke my broom, and I got no replacement!" says Cuba in a hopeless manner, "What can we do?"

 

It's time to start… believing, that is…

 

"Here!"

 

"Coach, this is a whisk broom! I can't use th-"

 

"Yeah, yeah ya can! You can… because you're the only one who has enough talent to do it!"

 

Because this August, hope doesn't float...

 

"Damn it... you... fool. He's still... going out. GO... my minions... go and... stop him..."

 

The entirety of the Russian Team, including a few Bears on tricycles, charge across the ice as the thrower tosses the stone...

 

It sweeps.

 

"Go ahead, Rocky-"

 

"Ricky!"

 

"Ricky! I got ya covered!" says Davenport as leaps fowards, catching two of the Bears around the neck and nailing them with a double Reverse Bulldog!

 

The scene cuts back to Ricky, who slides across the ice on his knees, furiously sweeping the ice in front of the stone before we cut to:

 

SWEEPING AT GLORY:

THE RICKY MCMASTERS STORY

Now available at your local Liquor Retailer

 

 

Edited February 4, 2006 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

Ben Hardy welcomes us back to SWF Aftershox, clearly not pleased with... something... if I had to guess, I'd say it was Sexton Hardcastle, who apparently has earned back his on-air priveleges.

 

"Welcome back to Aftershox. I'm Ben Hardy."

 

He then jerks his thumb towards Sexton-

 

"And this is the nephew of the producer. Who knew?"

 

Sexton sticks his tongue out.

 

"Ugh... anyway, let's get back to recapping the events of SWF Clusterfuck. Next up, the International Championship Match - defending champion Jay Hawke versus the Wildchild."

 

====

 

"As the match began, Jay Hawke tried to teach Wildchild a few things about wrestling... but as it turned out, Wildchild was the one doing the teaching...

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"There's the bell!" proclaims Pete. "Let's get down to bid'ness!" Wildchild and Jay Hawke circle each other in the center of the ring, before meeting in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Jay quickly takes advantage with an arm wringer, and attempts to shift into a top wristlock, but Wildchild reverses the arm wringer before taking Jay over with a modified snapmare.

 

Wildchild applies a reverse chinlock to Hawke, but the Dean immediately slips out the back door and counters into a hammerlock. He pulls WC back to his feet and re-asserts the arm wringer, but the Human Hurricane escapes yet again, this time cart-wheeling forward to alleviate the pressure on his arm, and surprising Hawke with a single-leg takedown.

 

"Looks like Jay Hawke's game plan to start the match was to teach Wildchild a wrestling lesson," notes Pete, "but Wildchild's been able to keep up with him so far!" Hawke instinctively rolls onto his stomach to escape a possible pin attempt, inspiring WC to leap forward and snare Jay in a side headlock. Jay negotiates his way back to his feet and tries to push Wildchild off, but the challenger takes Hawke back to the canvas with a side headlock takeover.

 

"I have to admit how surprised I am that Wildchild's been able to match Jay Hawke move-for-move early on in this bout," marvels King. Hawke escapes the side headlock by trapping Wildchild's head in a leg scissors, but WC rolls forward so that his body is laying atop Jay's in a pinning combination!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

The Dean leaves nothing to chance, bridging immediately out of the pin attempt, while supporting WC's body weight on top of him. Once back to a semi-vertical base, Jay rolls over to assume a dominant position, reversing from a pin attempt to a standing reverse double underhook. Hawke rolls over once more and pulls WC forward into a backslide pin attempt, but the Bahama Bomber flips through it, landing on his feet in front of a startled Jay Hawke…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… And driving a running kneelift into his jaw that sends him stumbling backwards into the ropes!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

"Whoa!" exclaims Pete. "Tremendous wrestling sequence by both men that ends with Wildchild getting the better of the International Champion!"

 

"Thanks to a cheap shot!" snaps King. "Yeah, I'll grant you that he caught Jay off-guard; he may have underestimated Wildchild's mat wrestling ability a little bit, but it was obvious that Jay was just starting to get his bearings back, and assert his control. So, what does Wildchild do? He cheap shots Jay Hawke to spare himself the embarrassment of being outwrestled, that's what he does!"

 

"I don't know how you can say that he was about to be outwrestled, King," argues LDP. "If anything, they looked like they were on the verge of a standoff!"

 

"Sure he was," King replies sarcastically. "That's why he had to go for that cheap shot!" Indignant, Jay gets to his feet and walks towards Wildchild, planting both hands on his chest and shoving him backwards. WC responds with a shove of his own, and then challenges Hawke to come at him.

 

"This is terrible!" moans King, as the two men begin trading punches. "He's doing it again; Wildchild's trying to turn this match into a fight!"

 

"What were you saying about controlling the pace?" asks Pete mockingly. Jay and Wildchild fight their way into a corner, so Herrington splits them up and guides them towards the center of the ring, before motioning for them to wrestle again. WC quickly takes advantage with an arm wringer, and Jay muscles him back against the ropes, before whipping him across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber explodes into the air as he rebounds to send the Champion to the canvas with a flying shoulder tackle! Jay bellies out as Wildchild runs back over the top of him, and then gets quickly back up, bending over to deliver a back-body drop as WC rebounds, but the challenger leaps high into the air, extending his leg to come down on the back of he falls back down…

 

 

 

WHOOSH!

 

 

… Only for Jay to scoot out of the ring, just narrowly avoiding the Caribbean Cutter! Wildchild rolls to his knees and stares out at the Champion, holding his thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart, while flashing his trademark grin as if to say, "It could have been THAT quick!"

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

"Wildchild appears to have rattled the International Champion," notes Pete. "He's totally taken him off his game!"

 

====

 

"But soon, a cheap shot would put the Champion back in the driver's seat..."

 

Wildchild pulls Hawke to his feet, but the Champion stuns him with a rake of the eyes, and then grabs him by the back of the head, leading him towards the edge of the ring and tossing him over the top rope, but the Bahama Bomber grabs onto the top rope and begins to pull himself back into the ring…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Only for Hawke to send him to the floor with a running dropkick before he can skin the cat!

 

 

"Excellent ring awareness on the part of Jay Hawke!" praises King, as Jay takes a few steps back from the ropes. "Jay knew exactly what he'd try for, and beat him to the punch!"

 

"Look at this!" exclaims Pete, as Hawke grabs onto the top rope and propels himself out of the ring, crashing into the unsuspecting Wildchild with a corkscrew plancha!

 

"I love it!" crows King. "Jay Hawke is giving Wildchild a little taste of his own medicine!" Hawke rams Wildchild's face into the edge of the apron before rolling him back into the ring. The Champion climbs onto the apron and turns to face the crowd, which reacts unfavorably to him:

 

 

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

 

Jay steps back into the ring and pulls Wildchild to his feet, but the Bahama Bomber bats his hands away, and begins to assault his face with rapid-fire right hands! Wildchild forces Jay into the corner and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring. WC runs in after him, springing off the canvas and twisting in midair to deliver his patented Blue Crush splash, but Hawke dives out of the corner to safety. Instead of crashing into the turnbuckle, however, WC catches himself on the middle ropes and climbs up to the top turnbuckle before springing back into the ring with a flying cross-body block…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the International Champion has him well-scouted, and counters with a standing dropkick that catches Wildchild in the right shoulder!

 

"Oh my!" croaks LDP. "Jay Hawke with a tremendous counter to the cross-body that may have re-aggravated that shoulder injury!"

 

Jay gets back to his feet, a cocky smirk on his face as he looks down on his handiwork. "Yeah!" he shouts, to no one in particular. "That's right!"

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"It's just like I said, MacDougal," says King. "Jay Hawke was playing cat-and-mouse with Wildchild; he let him think that he was in the game and then, when he was ready, he slammed the door in his face!" Jay pulls Wildchild to his feet and scoops him up before driving his right shoulder down onto this outstretched thigh with a devastating shoulderbreaker!

 

====

 

"Jay Hawke continued to maintain his control over Wildchild, but he couldn't quite put the Wild one away... as his frustration grew, he began making mistakes, and it was only a matter of time before Wildchild capitalized..."

 

"Hawke may have torn something when he had him in that Wing Span," remarks King. "You know what I would do? I'd go right back to that Wing Span again, and see if I can get him to tap this time!" Wildchild pulls himself to his feet and charges across the ring at the International Champion, exploding off the canvas to deliver a flying forearm!

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Dean snatches WC out of the air and twists him around before driving him down onto his outstretched thigh with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! He collapses atop Wildchild in a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— KICKOUT!

 

 

"Jay Hawke with an unbelievable counter," says Pete, "and very nearly got the three count!" Hawke rolls Wildchild onto his belly and grabs both of his arms, bending them back as he applies the Rings of Saturn!

 

"Well, this isn't quite the Wing Span," says King, "but it'll work just as well; this is a move that puts tremendous pressure on the shoulders, and it's going to be tough for Wildchild to find the leverage to make it to the ropes!" Wildchild cries out in pain as Hawke cranks back on the hold.

 

"Wildchild's natural flexibility and his will to win may be the only things keeping him from tapping out right now," says Pete. Melissa begins to pound on the mat to get the crowd back into it, and they respond by cheering for the Bahama Bomber:

 

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

 

"You can hear the Staples Center getting behind the Wildchild," notes LDP, "but I don't know how much longer he can hold out!" Herrington asks Wildchild if he's ready to give up, but the Tropical Tumbler seems to be infused by the energy of the crowd, and he vigorously shakes his head no.

 

"This is career suicide on the part of the Wildchild," says King. "There's no way that he can get out of this move, and he could sustain two separated shoulders if he doesn't swallow his pride and give up!" Wildchild locks eyes with Melissa, who stares back at him, her eyes imploring him not to submit.

 

"Melissa Fasaki has a concerned look on her face," says Pete, observing the exchange.

 

"Of course she does," replies King. "That's her meal ticket!" Herrington once again asks WC if he's had enough, and he shouts defiantly that he has not. He then gathers his feet underneath him and begins to inch slowly towards the ropes. Melissa continues to pound on the mat in encouragement as the crowd keeps cheering:

 

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

LET'S GO, WILDCHILD, LET'S GO! *CLAP, CLAP*

 

"This is incredible!" shouts LDP. "Wildchild's actually trying to get to the ropes!"

 

"That's impossible!" barks King. "I'm watching with my own eyes, and I STILL don't believe it!" Wildchild is only able to move a few inches, but it's enough to convince Jay Hawke that he might have a chance to escape, and decides to switch tactics, releasing the hold and immediately rolling back to his feet, hopping off the canvas before Wildchild can move any further and planting a kneedrop between his shoulder blades! Jay rolls him over for a lateral press:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE— NO!

 

 

"Two and three quarters," says Pete, "as Wildchild was, once again, able to slip out the back door!" The Dean pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to a nearby corner, lifting him onto the top turnbuckle.

 

"Uh-oh," King says with glee. "Jay Hawke's going for that belly-to-back Superplex… this will get rid of whatever starch Wildchild might have had left!" Jay climbs onto the turnbuckles himself and then tries to lift Wildchild for the suplex, but WC latches onto the top turnbuckle and hangs on for dear life!

 

"Hawke going for the Superplex, but Wildchild's fighting him!" shouts LDP. Wildchild draws his head back and jams it into the bridge of Jay's nose! A second headbutt, followed by a third is enough to get the Dean to relax his grip, and a double sledgehammer blow behind him strikes Hawke between the eyes and causes him to fall off the turnbuckles!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Tremendous tenacity on the part of Wildchild, to counter the Superplex!" cheers LDP, as WC clutches both shoulders in pain. "But that double sledgehammer blow may have been ill-advised, as it put a tremendous strain on his injured shoulders!" Wildchild climbs slowly onto the top turnbuckle, but the pain in his shoulders slows him enough for the Dean to recover; he rushes towards the corner to knock Wildchild off of the turnbuckles, but the Human Hurricane flips backwards into the ring, and then steps towards the International Champion…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And blasts him in the side of the face with a climb-up Enzugiri!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Phenomenal Enzugiri by the Wildchild!" exclaims Pete. "But can he follow it up?" Wildchild crawls across the ring to the opposite corner, and uses the ropes to pull himself up to his feet. Jay scrambles to his feet and runs across the ring at Wildchild, but the Bahama Bomber gets a foot up, catching the Champion in the jaw! WC hops up onto the middle turnbuckle as Hawke staggers away and springs off, snaring him by the head and driving him face-first into the canvas with a flying bulldog! He rolls Jay over and collapses atop him:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— KICKOUT!

 

 

Jay still has the presence of mind to kick out. WC pulls him to his feet and staggers him with another headbutt.

 

"Wildchild is firing back now!" cheers Pete. "He's got Jay Hawke in a bad way!"

 

====

 

"It seemed like the match was about to be over, and a new champion crowned... but Jay Hawke had one last trick up his sleeve..."

 

"Beautiful elbow takes down the International Champion!" says Pete, as Wildchild applies a lateral press. "Wildchild's in cruise control here!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO! Hawke kicks out at two! Herrington barely scoots out of the way as Wildchild scrambles to his feet, smacking Hawke in the bridge of the nose with short forearm shots before running to the ropes, picking up momentum as he bounces off and springing into the air as he approaches Jay, whipping his leg through the air to deliver a leg lariat!

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Dean pulls Red Herrington in front of him, and Wildchild inadvertently knocks out the referee instead!

 

"We've got a referee down!" exclaims Pete. "This is a potentially chaotic situation!"

 

"I love this," says King. "Now's when anything can happen!" Wildchild bends down over the referee, apologizing profusely as he attempts to help him back up, but Hawke sneaks up behind him and traps him in a waistlock, before launching him overhead and into the canvas with a German suplex!

 

"Beautiful German suplex by Jay Hawke," applauds King. "And, if you ask me, Wildchild got exactly what he deserved; if he hadn't manhandled the referee, then he wouldn't have been in that position in the first place!"

 

"If HE hadn't manhandled the official?" asks Pete incredulously, as the Dean slides out of the ring. "If Jay Hawke hadn't pulled the referee in front of him, that would never have happened!"

 

"What's going on here?" ponders King, as Jay heads towards the timekeeper's table, snatching the International Title from Funyon.

 

"He's got the belt!" shrieks LDP, as Hawke slides back into the ring. "What the hell is he going to do with that?"

 

"He's going to show Wildchild how close he can ever hope to get to the belt!" taunts King. Jay gets back to his feet inside the ring and holds the title at eye level, waiting for WC to stand back up. Suddenly he charges across the ring to nail the challenger between the eyes with the Championship Belt…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber ducks underneath the belt shot attempt, doubles him over with a kick to the midsection, and then crushes his face against the canvas with a Caribbean Cutter! The crowd explodes as WC rolls Hawke over and they begin to count his shoulders down:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

But, alas, despite the crowd's cheering, there was no actual pinfall, for the referee is still out cold!

 

 

"Wildchild had Jay Hawke down for the three, but it doesn't count!" taunts King. "That's what he gets for knocking out the official!"

 

"That's a load of crap, and you know it, King!" snaps Pete. "That wasn't Wildchild's fault!" WC once again preoccupies himself with attempting to revive the referee, providing Hawke the needed distraction to retrieve the belt and get back to his feet. Having little success with the referee, Wildchild turns around to check on Jay Hawke…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

AND JAY HAWKE NAILS WILDCHILD WITH THE INTERNATIONAL TITLE!

 

 

 

"Oh my goodness!" cries Pete, as Hawke tosses the belt out of the ring. "Jay Hawke just cleaned Wildchild's clock with the belt!" the fans boo loudly as Jay gives the signal for the Wing Span.

 

"He's going to put the Wing Span back on!" crows King, as Jay locks on the submission hold, scissoring WC's body as he falls backwards. "That's it! And he's got the body scissors on this time; there's no way Wildchild will be able to get out of it this time!"

 

Referee Red Herrington crawls towards the two wrestlers, and glances briefly at Wildchild's face before signaling to the timekeeper to ring the bell…

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

"No!" spits LDP. "Not like this, damn it!"

 

 

Hawke rolls to his feet and raises his arms in triumph, ignoring the boos of the crowd. Funyon rises from his seat and grabs the discarded belt, handing it back to the referee as he walks over to receive the official word.

 

"Folks, I can't believe this," says Pete solemnly. "After pulling the referee in front of him to save himself from the Wildchild, Jay Hawke appears to be about to steal this match from the Bahama Bomber… let's get the official word!"

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," booms Funyon, "the referee awards this bout…

 

 

 

 

"… As a result of a disqualification…

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

 

"… TO: THE WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!"

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

"I knew it!" proclaims LDP. "I knew that the referee wasn't going to let that chicanery stand!"

 

 

"However," Funyon continues, as the Dean snatches the title away from Herrington, "the International Title cannot change hands on a disqualification… Therefore, STILL the International Champion, Jay Hawke!"

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

The crowd appears furious as Jay smirks, clutching the title closely to his chest.

 

 

"There you have it," repeats LDP. "And as you can see on this replay, Jay Hawke clearly grabs the official and shoves him in front of Wildchild to take the brunt of that leg lariat… but what a bad break for the Wildchild; this is now the third straight time that a disqualification has cost him gold!"

 

"I've got to give credit to Jay Hawke, for using his head," counters King. "Hey, you do whatever it takes to hold onto that title; if that means getting yourself disqualified, then so be it. You might get a loss on your record, and end up with the loser's share of the purse, but you get to keep your title! Smart decision by the International Champion!"

 

====

 

"And so," Ben Hardy says as we return to the studio, "Jay Hawke managed to slip away with his title once again. But some say it's only a matter of time before Wildchild gets another chance, and next time, Hawke might not get off so easy... stick around, because we've got more SWF action to come."

 

Fade out.

[the.weej 0]

SWF AftershoX comes back after a trailer for Uwe Boll's "Tetris" starring Dakota Fanning as square-block and Mila Jovovich as full-frontal nudity t-block and Ben Hardy's toolish face comes into view. He's standing in the back, as well he should, when his eyes go wide as two figures that haven't been seen in a long time come into view.

 

"Jimmy? Jimmy the Doom?" Ben asks incredulously.

 

Sure enough, the Doomtopian, swinging a small velvet bag and wearing a giant mustard-yellow stovepipe hat, and his wife are walking down the corridor.

 

"Ben jammin'! Good to being have seen you for again," Jimmy says awkwardly, for he is foreign and poor speech habits are the best way to point this out.

 

"Where have you been, man? You just disappeared and nobody knew what happened," Hardy states, hoping to get a decent interview, or, at least one that doesn't end with him being stuffed in a locker or knocked out.

 

"The war, Benjamin," Doom replies somberly.

 

"You mean in Iraq?" Ben questions.

 

"No, Ben. There are being other wars to have in the world not with the United States included. I was to speak about the Zirconium invasion of Doomtopia. My home land," Doom adds with more than a hint of anger and bitterness.

 

"I'm sorry, but I hadn't heard about that, Jimmy. Are you here because everything's fine back in Doomtopia, or are you a refugee?" Hardy asks.

 

"Things are to the safety on home. Most population said my returning back is keynote reason for the leaving of Zirconia's army troops. I having been much enjoyed by the company of Zirconia's Executor Elect, Trelb Larpkits. However, though, soon thereafter, Doomtopia had enlisting aid from gypsies being from northernly-central mountanious regions to illegally steal children having belonging to Zirconiums."

 

"Your government got gypsies to steal the children of the Zirconiums and what, they were ransomed back for Doomtopia's sovereignty?"

 

"And twenty pounds worthiness of Zirconia's chiefly exporting item, the Cubic Zirconium for each Doomtopian," Doom stays, opening the bag and revealing a multitude of glittering gems.

 

"So, I take it you're back full time in the SWF?" Hardy inquires.

 

"Perhapsable. Warful threatings are ever presently in Doomtopia. But, for the being time currently, I wishes to keep representation Doomtopia of Smarks Wrestling Federation," Jimmy says.

 

"Well, do you have any plans for the future? Anyone in particular you're looking to take on, or will you go after all comers?" Ben questions

 

"Anyone and every of the ones. Jimmy the Doom has not the person to backing down from challenging wrestlers. I must be telling them, though, that a person to be challenge me will have doom comeing, and that doom is to come swift, and strong, like a river. A river of doom!" Doom exclaims.

 

"Thanks, Jimmy. It's great seeing you back," Ben says, trying to wrap things up before anything wacky happens.

 

"Much welcomes, Ben, and it is enormous goodness to returning," Jimmy replies and begins walking away. "Oh, Ben, be getting yourself a nicety by use of this."

 

Jimmy flips Hardy a quarter-sized cubic zirconium before walking on. And with that, AftershoX fades out with a motherfucking star wipe.

[the.weej 0]

Joe Peters leans back in his executive swivelling leather chair and grins to himself as he studies the young woman sitting in front of him. Unfortunately the grin might not have been such a good idea, given who the young woman in question is.

 

“What the fuck’s so funny?” Amy Stephens snaps, crossing her arms. Peters starts to sigh in exasperation, figures that probably won’t go down any better, and hastily smoothes his features.

 

“Just happy to have you on board, Miss Stephens,” he says with genuine satisfaction, passing a few sheets of paper over the desk. “If you’d just like to look over this contract then we can tidy up the last few odds and ends…”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Amy says, running her finger down the paper. “I told you I ain’t planning on staying long, right? I do the six months but then I’m out of here, innit?”

 

“Yes, you made that very clear,” Peters says with only a slight grimace. For some reason Toxxic’s little sister has a much stronger Nottingham accent than the former World Champion, who -in Peters’ memory, at least- sounds positively cultured in comparison. As a result, ‘very clear’ is only a relative term. “I believe you said you’re planning on travelling again?”

 

“Well, I still ain’t found Mike innit?” Amy says absently, “but I run out o’cash and this is all that’ll pay me up quick enough, you get me?”

 

“I think so…” Peters mutters, casting an exasperated look over at William Hearford III, who is standing by and watching the contract signing. All seems to be going well… until Amy’s eyes narrow and she jabs the pen down at a word on the paper.

 

“What the fuck is this?” she demands. Joe Peters leans over to see what has caused his new signing’s ire to rise, but is puzzled by what he finds.

 

“‘Diva’?” he queries, “well, that’s your job title. It’s a bit pretentious I know, but it’s the term we use these days-”

 

“Whassit mean?” Amy demands, “have I gotta be half-naked all the time or something?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Peters assures her, “but there will be other functions to perform such as photoshoots and public appearances.”

 

“Yeah, and how come I get paid less?” Amy demands, “Mike told me what he got in his first six months with the company and this,” she continues, holding the contract up, “ain’t it.”

 

“There’s a lower downside, granted,” Peters protests, “but you’d easily make that up with the promotional appearances, photo royalties… all it means is that you don’t wrestle as often as the active roster do.” Amy Stephens seems to consider this, looking down at the contract… then shoves it away from her and throws her pen so it bounces across the desk and lands in Peters’ lap. He looks up from it to see her get to her feet and lean over the desk at him. In other circumstances Peters would be concentrating on the impressive cleavage peeking out from her T-shirt, but something tells him that keeping eye contact would be the wisest move.

 

“Y’know what?” Amy begins, “I think you think I’m dumb, Mr. Peters. I think all you’re seein’ is another pair of tits to take photos of and market to a bunch of horny teenagers who’re getting their kicks from the vibro functions on their PS2s.”

 

“Don’t knock them,” Judge interjects with a smile, “they’re one of our biggest demographics!”

 

Amy looks towards him for a second, then turns back to Joe Peters and jabs a finger into his chest. “Listen. You knew my brother, right? Best you stop thinkin’ of me as some English girl you can make wall posters out of, and you better start thinkin’ of me as him. Only less patient.”

 

“Christ,” Peters mutters under his breath, but Amy hasn’t finished.

 

“I ain’t hanging around wearing half of nothin’ while everyone else gets to actually do some wrestling. I’ve been trained, and I’ve done some wrestling before - that’s how I made the cash to get back up here, you get me? So you give me a wrestling contract, and maybe you can make some cash outta the fact that I’m the famous Toxxic’s sister while I’m beating people up; otherwise I’m gone.”

 

Joe Peters stares up at the aggressive 21 year-old facing him over his own desk, and sighs. It looks like this is going to be one of those days.

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

“So, what’s first stop?” Amy asks William Hearford as they trek down one of the corridors. The veteran SWF star and road agent indicates a door on their right. “Wardrobe.”

 

The door creaks open to throw light on a room with rail after rail of clothes, costumes and assorted oddments of apparel. Here are tuxedos, suits, pants, shirts, boots and shoes, kneepads, elbow pads, tights, an entire rack full of athletic tape as well as some less common items like helmets and cloaks. On one wall what appears to be a superhero’s costume is held in a glass box with an engraved plaque underneath reading ‘Cyclone Comet - He Will Come Again’.

 

“Oh, if a big guy with a red skull mask on ever talks to you, don’t say anything about that,” Judge says, gesturing to Comet’s old outfit. Amy nods, confused, then continues looking around. “So, what we lookin’ for?” she asks. Judge rubs his beard and ‘hmms’ thoughtfully.

 

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I imagine Joe will want to milk your name for all it’s worth, so you’re not going to get any major sort of gimmick… We’ll just try and find something that feels like you, then work from there. This is more to give people ideas, and then wardrobe knocks up a few outfits around a general theme…”

 

Amy looks down at herself. She’s currently wearing a cut-off Ramones T-shirt, baggy Criminal Damage skate pants and pink-and-black Vans.

 

“Err… what’s wrong with what I’ve got?”

Edited February 4, 2006 by Justice

[the.weej 0]

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall to a finis with a 20-minute time limit…" Funyon starts as the crowd responds with the expected round of applause.

 

"Iintroducing first…from Osaka…Japan…"

 

The opening notes of David Bowie's, "China Girl" hit the speakers as a series of pyro's burst under the Smarktron. Candace "The Joshi Dragon" Okimura emerges from behind the velvet curtain and steps onto the stage area. The crowd in the sold-out Canseco Field house girls the Asian beauty a round of polite applause, as she stands gazing over the huge arena. Candace flashes a wide smile, and then starts down the entrance ramp and towards the ring.

 

"Candace…The Joshi Dragon…O-KIM-URRRRAAAAA!!!"

 

Candace smiles politely as she hears her name echoing through the arena. The Dragon, wearing her trademark white Playboy Bunny Tank top and ridiculously short black leather mini-skirt, glances over a few of the signs in the stands as she continues towards the ring.

 

"Candace has been fairly successful since her return to the SWF" Pete notes. "She won her first two matches…although sh's been coming up short as of late…"

 

"She'll be coming up short again tonight", King retorts. "She's taking on a promising newcomer in the Scarlet Pimpernel Matt Myers…"

 

The Joshi Dragon pauses for a few moments to acknowledge some of the fans in the front row, then slowly makes her way up the large, steel steps that lead into the ring. The Asian beauty pulls up the top rope, then slips under it and heads towards her corner of the ring.

 

"…and her opponent …"

 

 

The lights in the arena drop to darkness.

 

The lights arena's drop to darkness as Matt "The Scarlet Pimpernal" steps out onto the stage area. The upcoming star glances over the sold out Cow Palace as his entrance music blares loudly in the background. A thin smirk crease his lips as he notices his diminutive opponent waiting in the ring. The tosses his long black hair black, then quickly starts down the entrance ramp towards the ring.

 

"Matt…The Scarlet Pimpernal" MYERS!!!"

 

BOOOOOOO!!!!

YYEEAAHH!!!!

 

The tall Myers slides under the bottom rope and quickly approaches his opponent. He chuckles menacingly,then heads straightt to his corner. He quickly climbs the turn buckle, flashes a menacing glare at the fans in attendance, then hurredly steps back down, and removes his jacket before walking towards his corner of the ring.

 

"This Myers is a pretty arrogant guy" Pete understates. "Is it any surprise the fans don't exactly love him?"

 

"They don't have to love him" Pete responds matter-of-factly. "They simply have to respect him."

 

Myers locks his eyes on Candace as the Asian beauty stretches out in her corner of the ring. A confident smirk creases his lips as he notices how small this Dragon is. The Scarlet Pimpernal shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head briefly to the left and right, then leans back in his corner of the ring as the referee scurries up the steps and climbs under the ropes. Funyon quickly exits as the referee proceeds to offer a final run down on the rules to the combatants.

 

"Matt Myers seems less than impressed with Candace…"

 

"…and that surprises you?"

 

The referee motions for the wrestlers as Candace heads to the center of the ring. Matt, showing little interest in the match, lethargically starts in as the referee signals for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"And we're underway…" Pete starts.

 

Myers smiles menacingly as he starts to circle Candace. The promising newcomer wiggles his taped fingers slightly, and then gestures for a lock up. Candace considers the challenge for a moment, and then reaches up to lock hands with Myers. A trace of a smirk creases Matt's face, but before Candace locks up she fires a quick low kick to the lateral aspect of Myers's left knee. A look of surprise quickly washes over The Scarlet Pimpernal's face, as he steps back from Candace. The newcomers expression quickly turns from shock to anger as he abandons the lock-up offer, and instead sends a blistering clothesline towards the Dragon.

 

WHIFF!

 

Candace side steps the clothesline, then trips up Matt with a drop toe hold. Myer's falls face foreword onto the mat, as Candace quickly goes after his left knee. The Asian beauty bends The Scarlet Pimpernal's knee at an awkward angle, then drops her knee hard onto the twisted limb.Myer's roars as he violently shakes Candace off his leg. He quickly flips to his side, then hurries to get to his feet.

 

"Candace pretty aggressive in the early goings" King notes as the Dragon's opponent glares at his tiny adversary.

 

"Myer's is fairly small. Normally he is the one taking on a much larger opponent, so in this match he's not in his usual element"

 

Candace immediately fires another kick to the compromised limb. A pained expression washes over Matt's face as he gingerly staggers towards his corner of the ring. The Dragon continues the offence with a standing drop kick directly on her opponents' patella.The Scarlet Pimpernal's knee buckles on impact and the upcoming star finds himself on the mat once again.

 

"The Dragon working that leg…sound strategy to go after a weakened limb"

 

"True…anything that will slow down Matt Myers has to be in her advantage"

 

Candace quickly measures Matt as he start to move to his feet. She shoots a hard Buzzsaw kick at her opponents' skull as she watches him get off the mat. Myer's however catches Candace's leg mid swing and stops the blow before it hits. He whips Candace around and sends her hard to the mat with a timely Dragon Screw. Candace instantly springs to her feet, but the Joshi Dragon is rewarded with a stiff knee to the midsection for her troubles.

 

"But she still has to deal with his power" King chuckles as Candace is rocked by the impact of the kick.

 

"Very true" Pete concedes.

 

A look of unmasked anger manifests The Scarlet Pimpernals face as he grabs Candace by her long, black hair and jerks her to a vertical base. The young superstar quickly slides behind the Dragon and locks his arms tightly around her waist. He tucks his head in, then arches back. A look of concern appears on Candace's face as Myer's sends her back hard with a brutal Railgun suplex.

 

CRASH!

 

"Matt Myer's knocks Candace into the middle of next week" King says in amusement as Pete looks on in dismay.

 

"She'll feel that for the next two weeks"

 

Matt takes a deep breath as he gingerly walks towards Candace. The look of anger slowly is replaced with that of calm confidence, a she once again pulls Candace to a vertical base. He Irish whips the Waifish Joshi across the ring, leaving Candace to bounce hard off the corner turnbuckle. Matt Myer's follows up with a stinger splash that drives Candace hard into the corner. The Joshi Dragon slowly slumps onto the ropes as the newcomer towers over her in the corner.

 

STOMP!

STOMP!

STOMP!

 

The Scarlet Pimpernal sends several stiff kicks to the head and neck of the Asian beauty. The referee hurries over to the corner of the ring to check on the action. He instantly notices the Dragon is on the ropes, and orders a break, but his commands fall on deaf ears. Myer's rests the soul of his boot on Candace's throat and presses down viciously. The referee immediately starts a count as the audience starts to loudly jeer the champion.

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

 

Matt finally breaks the hold, and reluctantly steps away from his opponent. Candace again slumps to the mat, as the referee yells at The Pimpernal for ignoring his orders. Myer's ignores the official and locks his focus on his opponent. He pulls Candace to her feet, then sends her hard to the mat again with another Railgun suplex.

 

CRASH!

 

"Matt Pyer's has completely taken over this match"

 

"Candace has better get some offense going in a hurry or this one will be over very shortly"

 

Myer's flashes another confident smile as he heads towards his fallen adversary. He reaches down and grabs Candace by her ankle, then drags his motionless opponent into the center of the ring. Matt glances at the ceiling, then heads for the corner turnbuckles.

 

"Look out below…" Warns the King as The Scarlet Pimpernal climbs to the top turnbuckle. Matt spreads his arms wide, as he prepares for a diving head- BUTT.

 

"Why put her in the middle of the ring? Wouldn't it be easier if she were a little closer?"

 

"The Scarlet Pimpernal like's a challenge…"

 

Meyer's leaps high into the air as the audience holds their breathe in anticipation.

 

KA-SPLAT!!

 

"Oh my God!" King blurts as Matt Myer's crashes head first onto the mat.

 

"That is what you call a face plant!"

 

 

Candace rolled out of the way at the last possible second, as her opponent lands head first on the mat. The crowd gives a huge ovation for Candace as Myer's suffers the consequences of the ill-fated maneuver. The Joshi Dragon, still feeling the impact from the earlier suplexes, slowly forces herself to a vertical base. She locks her eyes on her fallen opponent, then staggers over to make a cover. The referee quickly pounces on the mat as The Scarlet Pimnpernal's shoulders are down.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

No! Myer's kicks out.

 

A look of disappointment registers on Candace's face as she hurries back to her feet. Myer's slowly starts to rise to his knees when…

 

SPLAT!

 

The rookie's head snaps back hard as the Dragon fires a blistering Buzzsaw kick to his temple. The SWF superstars eyes loose focus instantly as he collapses lifelessly to the mat. Candace quickly makes a cover as once again the referee scurries in for the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

No! The referee notices Matt's foot is draped on the bottom rope. He taps Candace on the shoulder, which sends the Dragon into a premature celebration in the center of the ring.

 

"Not so quick" King warns from the broadcast booth. "The match ain't over yet!"

 

 

A look of tremendous distress washes over Candace's face as the referee informs her that her opponent's foot was on the ropes. The Dragon quickly shakes off her disappointment, then pulls Matt away from the ropes. She drops a knee between Myer' eyes, then makes another quick cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

No! The Scarlet Pimpernal kicks out.

 

"I'll give him credit…matt Myer's can absorb a hell of a lot of punishment" Pete acknowledges as a grin forms on Kings face.

 

"He takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'"

 

 

Candace steps back from Myer's and once again begins to measure her opponent. She waits in silence as her opponent once again staggers to his feet, this time she leaps onto his shoulders, locking his far side arm in a leg scissors, while grabbing hold on his other arm to form a crucifix position. She instantly twists the two sides in opposing directions as she locks in her lethal Christo.

 

"Submission move here" Pete blurts in surprise as Candace locks on the Christo.

 

A look of pain begins to form on Myer's face as he struggles to break free from the hold. He desperately tries to pull away from the Dragons powerful legs, but the Asian beauty has the hold well cinched on. As Myer's continues to struggle, his weakened left knee buckles under him. The look of pain on his face begins to intensify as the referee hurries over to ask him if he wishes to submit.

 

"Matt Myer's is a tough guy…tough as they come… He won't tap…" The King state in concern as The Scarlet Pimpernal continues to battle the hold.

 

"Don't be so sure…"

 

Myer's grimaces as the referee continues to badger him about quitting the match. A look of relief begins to form on Candace's face as she can feel her opponent weakening. The Asian beauty continues to torque back Myer's arm as the crowd starts to rally behind her.

 

CANDACE!

CANDACE!

CANDACE!

 

Slowly, Matt wills his way to a vertical base. The relaxed look on Candace's face quickly fades as her opponent begins to demonstrate his determination to escape the Christo. Candace continues to apply the pressure, but Matt Myer's finally counter's the move into a Samoan drop.

 

OOF!!!!

 

Candace gasps as Matt's head drives hard into her midsection. She instantly releases the hold, then rolls into a fetal position in the center of the ring. Myer's, reeling from the effects of the Christo, lie motionless in the center of the ring as well. The referee looks down at both fallen combatants, then starts work on a double count out.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Myer's starts to stir, but as he rises his head…it falls back to the mat.

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

"Could be a double count out!" Pete offers as the referee continues his count.

 

"It would be a damn shame if that happened!"

 

SIX!

 

Candace slowly sits up, but just like her opponent…she quickly falls back to the mat as well.

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

The Scarlet Pimpernal manages to get to his knees. He slowly reaches the ropes, and starts to pull himself up. Candace finally manages to will herself to her feet again. The referee motions the fighters to continue, and instantly Matt sends a clothesline screaming at Candace's head.

 

KA BLAM!

 

Candace flips heels over head, then lands hard on her back. Matt desperately pounces on her for the cover. The referee once again dives to the mat to start the count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

No! Candace gets her foot on the ropes.

 

"Matt Myer's damn near decapitated Candace with that clothesline"

 

The rookie pounds the mat in anger, then fires a menacing glare at the referee. He quickly turns his attention back to the Dragon, pulling her away from the ropes and clamping on a side headlock. Candace squeals in pain as the powerful newcomer cranks the pressure on the hold; a confident smirk slowly forming on his face.

 

"This is clearly Matt's strength. Just totally wear his opponent down. He's young, but even now The Scarlet Pimpernal realizes that strategy!" King notes as Myer's continues to torture Candace.

 

The referee quickly turns his attention to the struggling Asian beauty. He asks Candace if she wants to quit the match, but the Joshi Dragon resists the offer. Myer's continues to squeeze Candace's head with vice-like pressure, as the desperate Joshi stretches her leg towards the ropes. Candace reaches as far as she can go, with the tip of her toes barely tapping the bottom rope. The referee quickly orders a break, but to no ones surprise The Scarlet Pimpernal ignores the command.

 

YOU SUCK!

YOU SUCK!

YOU SUUCKKK!

 

 

Matt Myer's glances dismissively at the fans as Candace continues to tap her toes on the rope. The referee quickly starts a count as the fans continue to jeer the Scarlet Pimpernal.

 

BOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

 

Myer's releases the side head-lock for a split second, then reapplies the punishing hold. He pulls Candace off the ropes and back into the ring. A wry grin flashes across the face of Myer's as he continues to crank the pressure of the headlock on the Asian beauty.

 

"Matt Myer's is a sadist" blurts Pete as he watches Candace grimace in pain.

 

The Joshi Dragon fires an elbow into the midsection of her opponent. Matt grits his teeth in pain, but this escape attempt only inspires him to increase the pressure on the headlock. Candace fires another elbow to his gut…then another…then another. Matt finally abandons the headlock, and nails Candace with a forearm smash to the head. Candace wobbled back, providing Myer's with an opportunity to send her hard to the ropes with an Irish whip. Candace springboards off the middle rope and nails her tormentor with a flying forearm of her own.

 

YYEEAAHHH!!!!

 

A look of surprise washes over Myer's face as he staggers back from the impact. The momentary stun quickly wears off and he fires a short arm clothesline at the Joshi Dragon. Candace however slips under the move and counters with a well-aimed hook kick to the chin of the upcoming SWF Superstar.

 

THUD!

 

Once again Myer's back peddles as Candace begins to get the upperhand in the match. She fires a wide angle spinning kick at Myer's head, however the kick is slow in arriving and the speedy Scarlet Pimpernal catches her leg midflow. Candace reacts quickly and nails Myer's in the head with an Enzuiguri, which earns an ovation from the fans in the sold out Cow Palace.

 

"I'll give her credit…she's spunky"

 

Matt kips to his feet, just as Candace is mounting the corner turn buckle for an attempted Senton. The taller Myer's tucks his head between Candace's legs in an effort to catch the young Joshi in an electric chair drop. As he gets Candace into the air the Dragon quickly shifts her weight and counters the electric chair drop into a pinning Victory roll position. Myer's, still wobbly on his compromised left knee, topples to the mat as the referee dives to make the count.

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Myer's kicks wildly in the air in an effort to escape…

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

YYYYEEAHHHH!!!

 

Matt Myer's finally kicks out of the pin…a look of rage burning in his eyes as he gestures two fingers towards the referee. The zebra replies with three fingers, then signals for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"Massive upset…Candace is the luckiest person in California tonight!" King states bluntly as the Dragon pumps her fist in the air.

 

"She caught Matt Myer's with that Victory roll…I don't think he expected that"

 

"Obviously not!"

 

Matt Myer's slams his fist hard onto the mat as he notices Funyon heading for the microphone. The promising star quickly rolls under the bottom rope and starts towards the locker room. A look of intense displeasure etched on his face.

 

 

"The time of the match 8 minutes and 22 seconds…the winner….Candace The Joshi Dragon…O-KIM-U-RRRRRRAAAAA!!!!!"

 

YYYEEEAAAHHH!!!

 

 

Candace finally manages a smile as she slowly get's to her feet. As the cheer's of the fans echo throughout the Cow Palace the Joshi Dragon pumps her fist into the air in celebration.

 

As Candace's entrance music starts to echoe throughout the arena, "SWF AftershoX" goes to commercial.

[the.weej 0]

"And now," Ben Hardy leads us back into the Aftershox studio, "it's time to show you the match that made me a millionare. That's right - I bet on a long shot in the Clusterfuck, and it paid off 75 times over!"

 

Sexton, eager to chime in, asks "You really bet on Wes?"

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

"Way to ruin the recap, jackass... anyway, for those viewers who may be deaf, and can't read lips, and haven't gone online since the PPV, here's the recap anyway! Hope it's still a surprise!"

 

====

 

"We all knew Spike Jenkins had entered himself as the first entrant, but nobody knew who the other 19 competitors would be... did Spike end up biting off more than he could chew in the opening?"

 

"… Please welcome, SWF newcomer, LABERTINO!"

 

"It's the latest high flying sensation from Mexico, Labertino!" Pete cries as Labertino runs down the ramp way, slapping hands with the fans and he always does, humble by the reaction the fans give him. "He's only been with the SWF a short while, but already he's impressed us with his Luchadore stylings-"

 

Labertino wastes no time sliding into the ring, getting the drop on Jenkins as he *drops* him to the mat with a double-leg takedown!

 

*DING! DING! DING*

 

"-and we're already underway!" Pete cries as Labertino swings his fists of fury, pounding away at Spike's noggin'! The crowd gives him vocal support as he leaps back to his feet, full of fire, leaving the straight-edge superstar lying on the mat. Labertino backs into the ropes, returns, and drops his leg across Spike's throat!

 

"That's what I like to see!" King bellows loudly, having no love for either man in the ring, but a love for the fight. "Labertino comes out like a bull at a gate and has the Spike reeling already."

 

"It's always important to conserve energy," Pete warns, "but with so many threats in the ring, it won't matter how much energy you have before you get thrown over the top!"

 

… As Labertino leaps into the air, aiming a flying forearm in Spike's direction, the Straight-Edge Superstar is able to dodge! Labertino puts on the breaks and turns back around, but receives a shotei right to the throat! The fans neither man but cheer Spike none-the-less as he advances, returning the favor to Labertino as he hits him with right hands, rocking the Mexican star back towards the corner. Spike takes him by the hands and easily whips him across the ring, but Labertino recovers before smacking into the turnbuckles and manages to leap onto the second rope and steady himself! Spike spies a golden opportunity to take out his plucky opponent and charges forward, but Labertino succeeds in sucking him in, leaping off the ropes and twisting in mid-air, falling on top of Jenkins with a flying body splash!"

 

====

 

"Laberinto was off to a hot start, but after the third entrant appeared..."

 

BBBBZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTT!

 

As the clock counts down to zero, the not-so-sweet German verse of Rammstein kicks in, and Jason Von Dierch comes charging out from the back, not stopping his stride until he hits the ring!

 

"On his way to the ring, from Hamburg, Germany, he is "The Rage" JASON VON DIERCH!"

 

Von Dierch gets to his feet, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to make a splash. Unfortunately, the only one making a splash is Labertino, and it's against his will as Spike throws him over his head with a fallaway slam, and the Mexican crashes into Dierch! Dierch comes off second best as Labertino pops back to his feet, ready to fight back, but Spike is there to meet him with a lighting quick Superkick, sending Labertino towards the ropes. Dierch, getting to one knee, holding his chest, finds the Mexican stumbling towards him at the last moment and leans over…

 

CRASH!

 

… Throwing him over the top rope, right down to the floor! Cheers ring out as the first elimination is made, and Spike raises his arm into the air, the fans not so keen on his cocksure character! "Labertino is out!" cries King as the Mexican groans on the concrete. "He looked so promising and quick on his feet as well, but it may have been a case of too much too soon as Spike sets the Mexican in motion, and Dierch takes him airborne and out of contention!"

 

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

 

Labertino

ENTERED: 2nd

LEFT: 1st

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Spike Jenkins, Jason Von Dierch

LEFT IN THE RING: Spike Jenkins, Jason Von Dierch

 

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

 

Spike takes sole credit for the elimination, nodding his head with approval, but his head is suddenly thrown forward as Dierch cracks him with a forearm! Two more stiff shots stagger Spike, allowing Dierch to wrap his arms around Spike's chest, linking his hands together and throwing him over, planting him on his back with a German Suplex! This gets a mixed reaction for the fans, but to Dierch it matters little as he keeps his arms linked, bringing Spike back to his feet! Spike tries to fend Dierch off with back elbows, but Jason ducks and dodges each blow! His veins bulge as he takes a deep breath, lifting the larger Jenkins up and over again, hitting a second Suplex! "Do my eyes deceive me, or is Dierch about to hit Jenkins with the ROLLING ROMMEL'S!?"

 

"King, just because Dierch is German that doesn't make him a Nazi!" Pete replies, dumbstruck.

 

"You'll be thinking differently when he follows up with the 'Mein Kampf Moonsault.'"

 

"You're just making these up!" Pete's objections fall on deaf ears as Dierch lifts Spike up for a third German Suplex, but this time, Spike hooks his leg around Dierch's, blocking the move! No matter what Dierch tries, Spike holds fast, before the Straight-Edge Superstar gets behind the rookie with a standing switch, lifting him up with a German Suplex of his own! The impact of the last two suplexes causes Spike to lose his sense of balance, allowing Dierch to roll through, dragging Jenkins down with him! Dierch knows he can't pin, but hopes to buy some time as he continues rolling through, getting to his feet and leaving Spike lying on the mat.

 

====

 

"It would be a while before the next elimination, and soon the ring began to fill up... Stryke, Manson, Christian Fury, and Ghost Machine all rounded out the next few spots, with Ghost Machine making an immediate impact on the match."

 

…But Dierch never makes it back, because as Ghost Machine places his hands on the top rope to pull himself onto the apron, he low bridges the German and causes him to topple over the rope and collapse to the floor!

 

RRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

 

"RAH." Ghost Machine yells, imitating the crowd in his staticy, robotic voice while spontaneously dancing the robot.

 

"Dierch's OUT!" Pete suddenly cries as the fans roar to life. "The rookie hung in there with the experience Jenkins, Stryke and Manson, but ultimately, it was Ghost Machine who was his undoing!"

 

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

 

Jason Von Dierch

ENTERED: 3rd

LEFT: 2nd

ELIMINATED: Labertino (w/ Spike Jenkins)

ELIMINATED BY: Stryke (w/ Robot assistance)

LEFT IN THE RING: Spike Jenkins, Stryke, Manson, Christian Fury, Ghost Machine

 

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

 

 

Stryke looks down at the mat, wondering why it's taken so long for Dierch to return. He gazes up only to find Dierch out, and Ghost Machine in his place! "That was ALL Ghost Machine!" King proudly boasts as Dierch slams his fist on the concrete in anger, which only adds to his misfortune. "My mechanical man foils the Nazi's plan for domination, and now looks to put his stamp on this match!"

 

"Do you realize how ridiculous that sounded?"

 

====

 

"Everyone knows that in a Battle Royale, it's better to have allies than enemies, and this was never made more apparent than with the team of Manson and Stryke - early on, they started working together to take on the competition..."

 

The cables almost snap under the Dude's weight as he's propelled back against his will, and is suddenly snatched up into a sidewalk slam position! Manson doesn't even need to ask before Stryke is on the scene, grabbing the Dude in an inverted facelock as the two drop to the mat without warning-

 

BAM!

 

-hitting a Diving Reverse DDT and Sidewalk Slam combo! Manson and Stryke get back to their feet, cheers ringing out in the Staples Centre, and Stryke acknowledges the crowd, raising his fist towards the sky!

 

"But the number one rule of the Clusterfuck has always been 'Look out for number one'."

 

The big man is suddenly struck with rapid-fire punches form Okimura, trying desperately to keep her chances alive! As Manson is stunned and loosens his grip slightly, Candace suddenly flips off his shoulders, trying to send him over the top rope with a flying headscissors, but Manson plants his front foot forward, blocking the move and letting Okimura dangle over the top rope! At the same precise moment, Stryke grabs Manson's legs and heaves him upward, double leg takedown style…

 

WHAM!

 

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

 

Candace Okimura

ENTERED: 12th

LEFT: 6th

ELIMINATED: No one.

ELIMINATED BY: Stryke

LEFT IN THE RING: Spike Jenkins, Stryke, Manson, Todd Cortez, Wes Davenport, Matt Myers

 

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

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

WHHHAAAAAMMMMMM!

 

 

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

 

Manson

ENTERED: 5th

LEFT: 7th

ELIMINATED: No one.

ELIMINATED BY: Stryke

LEFT IN THE RING: Spike Jenkins, Stryke, Todd Cortez, Wes Davenport, Matt Myers

 

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

 

 

 

RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

 

… sending both Manson and Okimura plunging to the floor below!

 

"OH MY GOD!" cries Pete, struggling to find the words. "Stryke just eliminated both Candace Okimura AND Manson in one fell swoop!"

 

"Shenanigans!" protests King, banging his fist on the desk. "Manson was SCREWED! Stryke turned around and stabbed him in the back after Manson was kind enough to carry Stryke through this match!"

 

====

 

"Eliminations came fast and furious, until we were down to the final four... Landon Maddix, Bruce Blank, TORU Takahara, and a man no one expected to last - Wes Davenport. One more elimination, and the match would become a triple threat."

 

As the commentator's begin to fire up once again, so do the crowd, jeering the nefarious tactics on one Landon Maddix! The Mexican, and former World Champion, just ignores them, knowing the ultimate prize is just within his reach.

 

Again.

 

TORU, unaware that Maddix may have just saved him in this match, greets the man who took his tag team title belt with a short arm knee lift, winding the Cockroach! TORU pulls Maddix in again, hitting a second knee strike, followed by a third! Keeping a firm hold on Landon's arm, TORU whips him into the furthest ropes, but Maddix reaches back and grabs the top rope with both arms, stopping dead in his tracks! Maddix beckons for Takahara to come forward, but the Japanese Hammer simply grins and shakes his head, waiting for Maddix to make the move. The Mexican is happy to oblige as he charges forward, managing to duck underneath a Yazuka Kick from TORU!

 

Planting his front foot forward, Maddix puts on the breaks and pivots around expertly, shooting a Superkick towards Takahara! The Japanese Hammer shows a toothy grin as he snares Landon's leg in his clutches, but the Mexican soon answers, spinning around and-

 

 

 

WHHHOOOSSSSHHHHH!

 

 

 

RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

 

 

 

-hitting nothing but thin air as TORU ducks underneath a Dragon Whip attempt! Maddix manages to plant both of his palms onto the canvas as Takahara grabs his opposite leg, holding both in tow. Maddix bounces up once, then twice, then a third time, springing up off the mat and back up towards TORU, grabbing him around the head in a side headlock! Davenport and Blank, spent, can only look on as Maddix tries to move all of his weight forward and slam TORU's face into the canvas!

 

… but the Japanese Hammer has other ideas. Before Maddix can shift his weight, TORU shifts HIS, leaning back and back peddling while putting an arm underneath Landon's legs! The crowd rise as TORU shimmies and wobbles, but finally reaches the strands, releasing Landon in a belly-to-back type maneuver…

 

…and the crowd gasp as Maddix goes over…

 

…and the crowd gasp Maddix goes down…

 

…

 

…and the crowd break into spontaneous applause as Maddix hits the concrete floor!

 

"YES!" King screams, almost reaching a climax. "HE'S GONE! TORU you magnificent bastard, I think I love you!"

 

"What a twist of fate!" Pete cries as TORU collapses onto all fours. "Maddix took TORU's tag team gold away from him, but now, the Japanese Hammer has secured his place in the final three while DENYING Maddix another shot at glory!"

 

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

 

Landon Maddix

ENTERED: 15th

LEFT: 17th

ELIMINATED: Tim Dillon.

ELIMINATED BY: TORU Takahara

 

THE FINAL THREE: Wes Davenport, Bruce Blank and TORU Takahara.

 

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

 

"And now, in its entirety, here is the conclusion to the 2006 Clusterfuck."

 

"Well, it's all come down to this, folks!" Pete shouts as the three men left standing at the end of it all slowly climb to their feet, and Nick Soapdish pushes all other referee's aside, taking the honor of officiating the Three-way for himself! "Wes Davenport, Bruce Blank and TORU Takahara have all earned there spots in the final three, and will now battle it out amongst themselves until one of them goes down for the three count!"

 

"And you know who deserves the most out of these 3?"

 

"Bruce Blank." Pete replies, second guessing his partner.

 

"No, it's Bruce Blank!" King pauses, looking at Pete, before continuing, "he had the guts and determination to pull himself out from a HELLACIOUS Japanese Deathmatch, and STILL reach this point! I just have a feeling his amazing streak will continue."

 

The redneck in question staggers forward, a far, far away look in his eyes as-

 

 

*DING!*

 

 

-the bell rings! The crowd's allegiance is soon known as they roar, chanting in unison-

 

DA – VEN – PORT!

 

DA – VEN – PORT!

 

DA – VEN – PORT!

 

For the first time in his revived wrestling career, the crowd chant for his name, and the actor gazes out in wonder, soaking it all in and smiling, but Bruce ends the merriment abruptly, firing a stiff right hand at the actor's face!

 

WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!!

WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!!

 

The chants of White Trash have some venom in them as Bruce nails Wes with a flurry of punches, sending the actor stumbling into the turnbuckles. When TORU tries to interfere, Blank fires a back elbow to the bridge of his nose! Blank takes his sweet time as he stalks Davenport into the corner, suddenly reaching down and scooping the actor up, placing him in the turnbuckles upside down in the tree of woe!

 

"Brilliant move on the part of Blank, King gushes as the redneck stomps on Wes' head once for good measure. "With Davenport indisposed, he's free to focus on TORU, and have no distractions when he eventually pins him!"

 

"OR," Pete retorts with a grin, "it would work the other way around!"

 

King's hopes are quickly dashed as Blank is kicked again, again and again in his tender midsection by Takahara! TORU wipes a trickle of blood away from his nose as his eyes narrow towards Blank. The Japanese Hammer takes the brute by the hand and sends him into the far ropes, smacking him in the face on his return with a LAARRRIIIIIIAAATTTOOOOO! The crowd begins to get behind TORU as Blank skids across the canvas, but immediately gets back to his feet for more! TORU is glad to deliver as he doubles Bruce over with a sharp kick, and wraps his arms around his waist from the side while Davenport looks on, upside down, and helpless!

 

"Ore GA TORU!" Pete cries in his best Japanese accent, which turns out to be horrible, but it succeeds in annoying King. "Almost any move from any of these three powerhouses could put their opponent down as TORU is only seconds away from certain victory!"

 

This time, Pete's the one's who disappointed as Bruce holds fast, blocking the move! TORU's injured left arm proves to be a greater hindrance than he thought as he tries in vain to heave the redneck off the mat. The momentary lapse from Takahara gives Blank just enough of a window to place his hands underneath the Japanese man's thighs and lift him straight up, then straight back down, dropping him groin first across his knee!

 

WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!!

WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!!

 

Squirming and writhing about madly, Davenport finally shakes himself free as Bruce hooks TORU in for a vertical Suplex, pulling the Japanese Hammer into the air…

 

"BLANK BOMB!" is all King utters as Blank prepares to drop TORU straight down on his noggin', but before he can…

 

 

RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

 

-Davenport bolts across the ring, dives across the canvas and takes out Blank's right leg with a chop lock! The massive Blank teeters, wobbles, and then finally topples, losing his grip on TORU who slips behind him safely! Davenport breathes heavily as TORU kicks the same leg, bringing Blank down onto one knee, before charging into the strands, gaining as much momentum as humanly possible before returning, using Blank's knee as a stepladder to leap even higher…

 

 

 

BAAAAAMMMMM!

 

 

 

YYYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

 

 

… and connect with a Shining Enziguri as the sound of boot on skull resonates throughout the arena, shortly replaced by the screams of tens of thousands of fans!

 

"TORU's done it, he's finally done it!" Pete exclaims, jumping out of his chair. "Blank crumples to the mat, his already beaten body now broken, as Takahara need only cover him!"

 

"Damnit, it's not fair, it's just not fair!" King protests in reply as TORU pins both of Blank's arms out to the side. "Blank would have this thing one if not for the whole Japanese Deathmatch business!"

 

Soapdish slides over with all haste, slamming his palm on the mat as the crowd chant along-

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Damnit! Do something Bruce!" King angrily shouts, but Blank is too far gone to hear his words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Congratulations to TORU, winner of the 2006 Cluster-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TTTTHHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

… Suddenly, as the fans chant what they think is a three count, Nick Soapdish's hand stays just millimeters off the canvas as Takahara is snatched up by Davenport without warning! The count is broken up by the actor who lunges forward with desperation, grabbing TORU's arms and locking them in a double chickenwing!

 

"What the HELL!?" King cries, totally flabbergasted as Davenport slams Takahara's face into the mat, not once, not twice, but three times! The Japanese Hammer bleeds from nose and mouth, but the blood simply smears against the canvas as Davenport takes a deep breath…

 

 

 

YYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

 

 

… flipping over into a bridge and locking TORU in the…

 

 

 

"CATTLE MUTILATION!" both announces cry at once as Davenport shows an intensity and fire no one has seen from the once actor turned wrestler. Soapdish, like the fans, are astounded, but he glides across the mat, getting in TORU's face and asking him the all important question as tens of thousands of screaming, delirious fans cry their lungs out!

 

 

DA – VEN – PORT!

 

 

DA – VEN – PORT!

 

 

DA – VEN – PORT!

 

 

"When did he learn THAT!?" King asks out loud, still astonished. "And with TORU's injured arm…"

 

The pain is immense and causes the Japanese Hammer to howl uncontrollably, but still TORU hangs on, refusing to give in! "I have no idea King, but if Davenport can keep it locked in long enough, he may be on the verge…"

 

Finally, Soapdish leans in… and then leaps to his feet, calling for the timekeeper to ring the bell!

 

 

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

"MY GOD, he's done it! He's actually done it!"

 

Pete's ecstatic cries are soon drowned out as "Get Over It" blares through the peakers and Davenport drops face first to the canvas, unable to comprehend what he's achieved until he hears Funyon get on the mic, announcing to the world, "LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, THE WINNER OF THE TWO THOUSAND AND SIX S W F CLUSTERFUCK… WES DDDAAAAVVVEEENNNNPPPOOORRRRTTTT!"

 

We pull back to the studio, where Sexton Hardcastle appears to be nursing a vicious Indian Burn while Hardy continues to narrate.

 

"That's right, folks - Wes Davenport is going to From the Fire. Was it luck? A cold, calculated plan? No one knows, but we do know this - Wes now has a shot at the SWF World Championship... but against who? Up nex-"

 

"Magnifico!"

 

"..."

 

"What? You asked me 'against who'!"

 

"... I hate you."

 

"..."

 

"Later on, we'll take a look at the epic battle between JJ Johnson and El Luchadore Magnifico, for the World Heavyweight Championship. Wes Davenport will be facing one of those two men at From the Fire."

 

Fade out...

[the.weej 0]

As I sit alone in the workout area in the bowels of the Cow Palace, I can’t help but reflect on things... Things that could’ve been, should’ve been.

 

Or maybe they shouldn’t have been, and things went as well as they should have.

 

I was ready to not make the trip to San Fran. But at the behest of upper management, I find myself here. They wanted all of the Clusterfuck participants available for possible interviews. I was less than thrilled at that prospect, but I knew I had no choice.

 

I am less thrilled now, knowing that they will be doing an interview with me. I heave a sigh. Oh well. I’ve got to pay the bills somehow, since my wrestling’s been garbage lately.

 

The doors whine open, and in walks... Ben Hardy and a cadre of cameramen and sound men and the like. It looks like a small militia under the payroll of a small news network. Hardy quickly makes his rounds to his crew, giving them clipped directions, then comes to me, offering a hand.

 

“Chris,” he says in a soft tone, “thanks for taking the time out to do this.” I take his hand in what I hope is a convincing shake.

 

“It’s my pleasure, Ben.” He smiles ruefully at me, not really fooled by my attempt to conceal the ‘un-joy’ I feel having to do an interview on the heels of a small 0-for start.

 

“Trust me,” he responds somewhat vaguely, “there are some that will appreciate the effort.” I toss a raised eyebrow in his direction, but he is already in the midst of finalizing the microphone locations and camera lighting and angles. His statement leaves me wondering... The crowd response in my first match was rather intense. I was surprised. Maybe I didn’t give the old base of fans enough credit for sticking around.

 

They did better than I have, if I was right.

 

Ben turns back around, flashing me a slight smile as he settles into the seat beside me.

 

“Ready to do this?”

 

“Honestly?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Not a chance in Hell.” Hardy laughs a bit, and I manage to crack a sincere smile this time.

 

“Well, let’s get this over with as quickly as possible then, shall we?” He sits back in the chair, watching the main cameraman as he motions with his hand...

 

5...

 

4...

 

3...

 

2...

 

1...

 

**********

 

The feed cuts from... Wherever it was before... To a close-up of Ben Hardy’s face.

 

“Thank you, and joining me now is returning superstar Christian Fury... Chris, thanks for joining me today.” The camera pans back to show the two men as Hardy and Fury share a handshake.

 

“Thanks for having me, Ben.” Ben flashes a smile that’s understanding, yet determined.

 

“In case it hasn’t happened yet, Chris, let me be one of the first to welcome you back into the fold.”

 

“I appreciate that, Ben... Since my last departure, I’ve done a lot. But... I knew something was missing.” Ben nods, but you can almost see him working.

 

“I’m sure fans are very curious about what you’ve been doing outside of the ring, but I think they’re talking more about what you’ve been doing inside the ring... Or, more importantly, what you haven’t been doing. And that’s winning.” Hardy looks hard at Fury, but with that hidden air of “flee when needed” barely visible on his features. “What’s going on out there?” Fury sighs softly, and we can see Hardy tense.

 

“Well,” Fury starts after a moment of thought, “I’ve been out of the sport for a year. Admittedly, I’ve only been training for the past 6 months. Plus, I’m working with a whole new skill set. I’ve lost some weight to try and compete better with cruisers, and worked on my lower body to try and build speed. It’s been a rough transition. But... To my credit, I was doing well in that first match against Wes Davenport, and the Clusterfuck...” He chuckles slightly. “Well, the Clusterfuck is tough all around with multiple folks in the ring. I think I did alright.”

 

“Now really, Chris,” Hardy retorts, slightly reserved but pressing on, “In your first match, you got beat out by a washed-up actor... And your Clusterfuck exit was less-than-impressive. No eliminations, and third out. You can hardly call those ‘performances’ alright.” Fury visibly grits his teeth.

 

“Need I remind you,” Fury responds in a cool and calculated matter, “that that ‘washed-up’ actor won the Clusterfuck for a title shot at From The Fire. And I was eliminated quickly, yes... But by Stryke, who was on a tear, and wound up elimination about a half-dozen people more or less on his own...”

 

“Chris, I think the big question here is why try and change your whole style and come back after so many attempts? Why try and hang on? Why try to be all goody-two-shoes when you did your best works as a...”

 

“I believe this interview is over.” With that steely and cold response, Fury stands and walks off-camera... But the camera pans up to follow his travel out the door...

 

*SLAM!*

 

The camera floats back down to a cringing Hardy.

 

“Back to the floor...”

 

**********

 

I can’t believe he’d go that route...

 

Can’t believe it.

 

But... Maybe he was right...

 

After all, that’s his job.

 

Right?

 

I hear him down the hall, calling for me.

 

Fuck him.

 

I’ll do this my way.

 

I know I can’t completely escape my past, but I’ll sure as Hell try.

 

I’ll do my thing, and win.

 

The fans and ‘experts’ be damned.

 

I can win as a ‘good guy’. I don’t need that noise from the past.

 

They’ll see...

 

They’ll all see...

[the.weej 0]

Eh!

 

Boo Boo!

 

The crowd bursts into cheers as some weird robot song starts to play over the loudspeakers, heralding the arrival of Ghost Machine Version 2.0!

 

"Good lord," Pete says with a groan. "Do we really need this right now?"

 

"Oh, come on," Suicide King replies. "You're not going to tell me you find this marvel of modern technology boring, are you?"

 

As the curtain parts, Chris Belcourt steps through, pulling the rigid Ghost Machine, who is wearing specially-fitted wheels on his lower appendages.

 

("Is he wearing roller skates, King?"

 

"You fool. Those are specially-fitted wheels. For his lower appendages.")

 

Belcourt walks to the ring, trying to push the 231-pound piece of machinery and having great difficulty doing so. When he finally gets to the ring, Belcourt pushes Ghost Machine to the apron. He props Ghost Machine against the ringpost and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pack of Camel cigarettes. He puts one into Ghost Machine's mouth, lights it, and then walks boredly into the ring, picking up a microphone.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Belcourt says, "on behalf of Ghost Machine, I would like to..."

 

Immediately, the crowd begins booing loudly. Belcourt rolls his eyes, and begins speaking again.

 

"On behalf of Ghost Machine Two Point Oh, I would like to read a prepared statement."

 

Belcourt reaches into his pocket, pulling a sheet of paper out. As he does, the camera focuses on the almost-motionless Ghost Machine, still leaning against the ringpost and moving only to expedite the smoking of his cigarette. The SWF road agent clears his throat and begins reading.

 

'BennerCorp is proud to present its new standalone application, Ghost Machine Version 2.0. Version 2.0 is an improvement in every way.

 

However, when Ghost Machine 2.0 is treated in certain manners, such as exposing it to raucous disco music or by overstimulating its visual apparatus, it may respond by malfunctioning. This is the explanation for the infinite loop that was noted at SWF Clusterf**k last week.

 

On behalf of BennerCorp, I would like to apologize to Manson for this malfunction.

 

Further, BennerCorp is not responsible for any malfunction that may occur if Ghost Machine 2.0 is abused, for example by striking it with weapons other than the human body. Its specially-created chassis is not equipped to deal with weapons such as rattan canes, kendo sticks or playthings propelled by heavy explosives. Thank you.'

 

Ghost Machine stubs out his cigarette on the ringpost as Belcourt drops the microphone and starts to walk out of the ring. However, Ghost Machine turns to face him. Sighing, Belcourt picks up the microphone and holds it in front of Ghost Machine's synthesizer.

 

"BRUCE BLANK YOU'RE NEXT."

 

Belcourt rolls his eyes as the crowd cheers. The road agent sighs and begins pushing Ghost Machine back to the locker room.

 

"Well," says Pete, "that was... er... unnecessary."

 

"You know, I didn't expect you to appreciate it," King says with disdain. "I am, however, excited to see that Ghost Machine is stepping up into the title hunt, although I hope Blank doesn't try to hit him with anything ultraviolent. It might cause a malfunction."

 

Pete merely shakes his head as the show fades to commercial.

Edited February 4, 2006 by Justice

[the.weej 0]

Come in to Taco Bell now, where our new dollar menu selections will have you saying:

 

"I'm full!" shouts a man, standing on top of the Grand Canyon, holding a burrito.

 

The new Taco Bell Dollar Menu! With a selection of a half-pound bean burrito, two tacos, a spicy chicken chalupa, and dozens of other choices, it will make you remember what it's like to be full!

 

"I'm full!" cries a woman, standing atop Mount Everest, holding a taco in each hand.

 

We now cut to the inside of Madison Square Garden - Matt Myers stands in the middle of the ring, a chalupa in one hand and a microphone in the other. Being cheered on by thousands and thousands of fans, he leaps atop a turnbuckle and shouts

 

"I'm full! I'M FUUUUUUUULLLLLLL- AGH! What the-rgh!MF!GETOFFMGNMGGPPHH!"

 

"You're not full," El Luchadore Magnifico says as he yanks Myers off the turnbuckle, "until you've had one of these! The New BurriTaco Magnifico! It's a one-pound Burrito that's inside a taco, for only a dollar! What will they think of next?"

 

Magnifico turns to Myers, who is attempting to crawl away - in a split second, Magnifico grabs the microphone and clobbers him on the back of the head!

 

"Now open wide!"

 

"MMFF! GRRMMPPHH-"

 

*HACK* *COUGH* *COUGH*

 

*SPLUTTER*

 

*SOUND OF BURRITACO BEING COUGHED UP*

 

"CAN'T... BREATHE..."

 

Magnifico releases Myers, whose head drops to the mat.

 

"Looks like he's full," Magnifico says with a chuckle, and he begins to walk away as paramedics rush to the scene. They administer CPR, and a few moments later, Myers coughs up bits of taco shell and begins to breathe again.

 

"You asshole!" he shouts, pointing at Magnifico. "You almost killed me, you crazy bastard! I'm not going to take this kind of abuse anymore! I'm getting a restraining order! I'm-"

 

Magnifico pivots around, wielding two more BurriTaco's, and we fade to black, with the anguished screaming of Myers bringing us to the end of this advertisement.

 

Taco Bell - Think Outside The Bun

 

"Full yet?!"

 

"Get away from me, you freak!"

Edited February 4, 2006 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

"Time now to take a look back at the main event of the Clusterfuck," Ben Hardy says, bringing us back to the Aftershox studio. "El Luchadore Magnifico has been absolutely unstoppable since his return, and it was beginning to seem like no one would ever manage to take the title off of him..."

 

"... then, a few months ago, JJ Johnson got on a roll... a huge roll... he eventually entered the Cold Front Classic, and defeated TORU Takahara in the final round to earn a title shot at the Clusterfuck. Many people thought Johnson was poised to pull an upset, much like TNT did a few years back. Others were adamant in their claim that Magnifico was going to walk away with his championship in tact."

 

"Who was right? Well, let's take a look."

 

====

 

"After an intense start, the match began to go Magnifico's way..."

 

DING DING DING

 

Immediately after the first strike of the bell, Johnson suddenly breaks into a sprint and charges across the ring, bearing down on Magnifico with blinding speed! ELM is caught off guard but still manages to barely sidestep the charging former Ultimate Fighter. Johnson skids to a halt and immediately spins to face Magnifico, only to immediately eat a quick to jab to the face for his trouble. Not wanting to give JJ even the slighest chance to attack, ELM quickly pummels away at Johnson's chin and face, backing him into the corner with a series of nimble jabs. After landing about a dozen blows, Magnifico grabs Johnson by the arm and attempts to whip him across the ring, only to have JJ reverse it and send ELM rushing towards the far corner. Johnson takes off after Magnifico immediately following the whip, trailing only a couple steps behind the luchadore. ELM turns and crashes back-first against the corner's turnbuckles, the shock to his back quickly followed up by an even more violent one from the front as a charging JJ throws his knee deep into Magnifico's gut!

 

"Johnson quickly takes control of the match, as he sends Magnifico into the corner before smashing his stomach in with a running Knee Strike!" Pete excitedly reports.

 

Doubled over with a hand on his stomach, ELM slowly stumbles out of the corner, gasping for breath as he does so. Johnson takes a few steps backwards so that Magnifico is staggering towards him, putting JJ in a fine position to pull ELM into a Front Facelock. Johnson does just that before grabbing Magnifico by the waist of his tights and pulling him into the air, seemingly looking to spike ELM into the mat with a Brainbuster! However, Magnifico manages to twist out of Johnson's grip in mid-air, landing on his feet behind JJ and facing the same direction as him! The second Magnifico's feet hit the ground, he wraps his arms around Johnson's waist, trapping him in a Rear Waistlock. ELM then charges towards the corner directly in front of him, pushing Johnson in front of him like a living battering ram! Magnifico then uses his grip to pull the stunned JJ backwards and down to the mat with a Reverse Rollup!

 

"Beautifully done!" King cries. "Johnson gets greedy with his attempt at a Brainbuster, and Magnifico makes him pay for it in spades! I wouldn't be surprised if Johnson, inconsolable due to the reversal, were to simply give up right here and now."

 

ELM ends up sitting on Johnson's legs, putting as much weight as possible on them as he holds JJ down to the mat. Johnson struggles wildly to escape as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Johnson suddenly shoots his legs out, flipping ELM forward with the force of the kick! Magnifico lands hard on the back of his shoulders, but has little time to concentrate on that as Johnson, his legs already pressed down on ELM's shoulders, reaches above him and pulls back on both his legs! Magnifico's surprised and annoyed at the reversal, but at the moment is forced to concentrate on escaping the pin, as the ref is already on his knees and beginning the count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Magnifico grabs Johnson by the legs and wraps his own legs around JJ's neck, then pulls him down to the mat while sitting up, reversing Johnson's pin into another one of his own! Irritated at the constant interruptions, the frustrated referee restarts his count once more...

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Johnson simply breaks free of the pin this time, scrambling to his feet as ELM rolls backwards and jumps to his. Upon reaching his feet, Johnson promptly turns towards Magnifico and...

 

CHOP!

 

*SMAAAAACK*

 

"WHOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

...only to immediately be blasted in the chest with a stinging Knife-Edge Chop! The fans "whoo" in a Pavlovian fashion as Johnson backs up a few steps, gasping for breath.

 

"Magnifico comes out on top in the duel of Rollups, and celebrates his victory by slicing open Johnson's delicate, sunken chest with a gorgeous Knife-Edge Chop!" King gushes mindlessly.

 

"I suppose that's one way of putting it." Pete begrudgingly admits. "Magnifico's doing fairly well at the moment, especially considering how strong JJ looked at the beginning of this contest."

 

Before Johnson even realizes it, he's been tripped up by a Drop Toe Hold, his forehead on a collision course with the second turnbuckle! JJ's forehead slams into said turnbuckle, drawing a sympathetic wince from the capacity crowd as he falls to the mat, cradling his head in his hands.

 

"And once again, we see the ill-advised, violent attacks of JJ Johnson countered by the smooth, fluid movements of El Luchadore Magnifico." King eloquently states. "I realize that Johnson isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you'd think that he'd eventually catch on to the futility of his offense."

 

Magnifico pops back to his feet and grabs Johnson by the legs, then uses his grip to drag JJ into the center of the ring. ELM then delivers a few stomps to Johnson's shoulders and back, only to abruptly stop when he sees JJ start to push himself to his feet through the kicks. Magnifico suddenly turns and makes a break for the ropes behind him, bouncing off of them as JJ reaches his hands and knees. Magnifico then runs back towards JJ and hops into the air, kicking his feet out just as Johnson looks up! ELM slams said feet directly into JJ's face with a Running Dropkick, immediately knocking him back to the canvas as the agitated crowd releases a wave of spirited boos. Magnifico quickly scrambles onto Johnson and makes the cover, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO! No! Johnson kicks out right after two, quickly putting an end to the audience's booing. Undeterred, Magnifico grabs JJ by the arm and quickly stands up, pulling Johnson to his feet as he does so. ELM then uses his grip to whip Johnson across the ring and towards the far ropes, which JJ bounces off of...before hooking his arms around the top rope, immediately halting his forward progress! Annoyed, Magnifico charges at JJ, who ducks down, grabs him by the leg, and then stands up, tossing ELM up and over the top rope behind him with a Backdrop! However, Magnifico manages to grab the top rope in mid-air and uses his grip to pull himself onto the apron! Somewhat confused by the lack of a "splat" sound, Johnson turns around...and is immediately grabbed around the neck by Magnifico! ELM then hops backwards off of the apron, pulling JJ down with him and driving his neck into the top rope with a Guillotine! Johnson springs backwards off of the ropes and falls to the canvas, his hands on his throat and his lungs gasping for air as an amused Magnifico looks on from the outside.

 

"Very well done! Bravo!" King cries. "It almost looked as though ELM would fall prey to Johnson's trickery, but that thankfully wasn't the case."

 

"Hooking the top rope with your arms is trickery now?" Pete asks before he can think better of it.

 

"Absolutely!" King practically shouts. "The basics of the Irish Whip are as follows; you whip the guy, he bounces off of the ropes and comes back at you. That's it. Messing with any step of that process is defying the very laws of wrestling nature."

 

"But soon, Johnson would find the opening he was looking for, and he began to take the Champion to town..."

 

Disgusted at JJ for having the nerve to kick out, Magnifico unceremoniously throws Johnson's legs off his shoulders and to the mat, before climbing back to his feet and leaving JJ alone on the canvas. ELM immediately makes a break for the nearby corner upon reaching his feet, beginning the ascent up its turnbuckles as Johnson begins to stir beneath him. Magnifico reaches the top rope fairly quickly, turning towards the ring as he does so. He sees JJ begin climbing to his feet, and decides to remain perched on the top turnbuckles for the moment, his hands clenching the top ropes and his eyes keenly focused on Johnson's ascent. Still looking fairly dazed from the force of the Powerbomb, JJ slowly climbs to one knee...before suddenly turning and leaping at the luchadore, taking Magnifico completely by surprise! Before ELM has a chance to react, Johnson simultaneously strikes the inside of Magnifico's legs, causing him to lose his balance and fall straight down on to the top turnbuckle! The luchadore's eyes widen and a wordless cry of agony escapes his gaping mouth as the crowd roars its approval of the crotch shot.

 

"What was the word you used before, King? Overambitious?" Pete playfully questions, as King angrily crosses his arms and looks away. "Magnifico seemed confident that Johnson would be stunned after being bit by La Bomba Fantastica, but he quickly and painfully learned otherwise when JJ surprised him and caused him to lose his footing on the top rope."

 

With Magnifico distracted by the intense amount of pain emanating from his groin, JJ is able to freely grab ELM by the arm that houses the damaged shoulder. Johnson grips Magnifico by the elbow and under the arm...and then twists his body and jerks ELM off of the top turnbuckle! JJ then falls onto his stomach while slamming Magnifico shoulder-first into the canvas, the impressed fans cheering for the Dragon Arm Screw as the luchadore grabs at his shoulder and cries out in pain. Johnson rolls on top of Magnifico immediately after he hits the mat, putting extra pressure on the luchadore's shoulder as he makes the cover. The crowd's enthusiasm grows while JJ reaches over and hooks the leg, doing so as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, sobering most of the live audience as he does so. Pain surges through ELM's shoulder as he kicks out, as he's violently reminded of the damage Johnson's incurred on that particular body part throughout the match.

 

"Johnson's kidding himself if he thinks this is the appropriate course of action to defeat Magnifico." King scoffs. "I'll remind the viewers at home that Magnifico has only tapped out once since his return, and that wasn't even during a singles match. If JJ can figure out a way to make ELM submit, which he definitely won't, I'll be amazed."

 

Johnson rolls off of Magnifico and quickly climbs to his feet, a expression of subtle but clear frustration on his face as he does so. JJ stands and immediately reaches down, grabbing ELM between the legs and under the arm. Johnson uses that grip to pull Magnifico off of the mat and right into the air, taking ELM and much of the live audience by surprise! JJ twists Magnifico's body around in mid-air, falls to one knee, and then drives ELM towards the mat, slamming Magnifico's damaged shoulder into his knee with a cringe-inducing Shoulderbreaker! Magnifico cries out in pain and unceremoniously falls onto the canvas, tightly gripping his shoulder as he writhes in agony on the mat. JJ reaches for the luchadore, but Magnifico seems to have had enough of Johnson for right now, as he rolls towards and beneath the nearby ropes to escape to the outside.

 

"Magnifico apparently needs a quick break from the action." An amused LDP notes. "He appears to be in severe pain, and could be hard-pressed to continue without a short respite."

 

ELM steps onto the floor and stumbles away from the ring, the curse-laced Spanglish spewing from his mouth drowned out by the booing of the hundreds of surrounding fans. A visibly annoyed JJ looks out at Magnifico for a second before suddenly turning around and making a break for the ropes behind him, drawing an anticipatory pop from the live audience. Johnson bounces off of said ropes and sprints across the ring, charging towards Magnifico at top speed! Somewhat concerned by the crowd's cheering, ELM turns towards the ring...just in time to see Johnson execute a gorgeous, hands-free leap over the top rope! JJ twists and flips his body in mid-air, wowing the already-delighted crowd as his entire form crashes into Magnifico's chest with a Corkscrew Pescado! The fans cheer louder than they have the entire match as ELM is violently knocked to the ground, followed a second later by JJ Johnson, who tumbles to the floor right after him. JJ takes a moment's rest before beginning the climb back to his feet, as the ref, from inside the ring, begins to count both men out.

 

ONE!

 

"Absolutely breathtaking Corkscrew Pescado from JJ Johnson!" Pete cries. "Most people don't associate such acrobatics with JJ, but he's more than capable of executing the occasional dazzling dive to the outside every now and then."

 

"I can't believe you can sit there and talk like that with a straight face." King snaps. "It's meaningless flip flopping like that that's watering down this great quasi-sport of ours. JJ should be ashamed of himself for shamelessly using such selfish, flashy offense."

 

JJ gets back to his feet fairly quickly, taking a second to shake off the impact of the fall before heading over to Magnifico, who's barely moved a muscle since hitting the ground. As the fans in front row cheer him on, JJ reaches down and grabs Magnifico by the arm, before using his grip to slowly pull the dazed luchadore to his feet. Once ELM is standing, Johnson whips him, sending the luchadore rushing across the floor and towards the far guardrail.

 

TWO!

 

As Magnifico approaches the rail and crashes into it back-first, spurring him to arch his entire body as a jolt of pain runs up his spine. Distracted by said pain, ELM doesn't seem to notice JJ breaking into a run on the other side of the floor, bearing down on Magnifico at a terrifying speed! Johnson lashes out with his arm as he approaches, apparently looking to land a Shotgun Lariat, but ELM seems to snap back to attention just in time, ducking beneath JJ's arm mere milliseconds before impact! Johnson manages to throw his hand out and grab the guardrail, stopping himself before he can run gut-first into it.

 

ELM rolls right in after him and quickly stands, doing so as JJ slowly begins climbing to his feet. But as he's doing so, Magnifico steps behind him, wraps his arms around JJ's waist, and hoists him off the mat, apparently looking to spike his neck into the canvas with a Wheelbarrow Suplex! However, Johnson throws his elbow backwards in mid-air, slamming it right into the bridge of ELM's nose and immediately ending his attempt at the Suplex! JJ manages to wriggle out of the stunned luchadore's grip and land on his feet in front of the luchadore, facing away from him. The second his feet hit the ground, Johnson makes a break for the ropes in front of him, bouncing off of them as Magnifico shakes off the effects of the elbow strike. JJ charges back towards ELM, and as he approaches, the luchadore lashes out with his arm, aiming it right at Johnson's neck with a Lariat! However, Johnson manages to duck beneath Magnifico's extended arm, at the same time shooting his arm out and wrapping it around ELM's neck! Before Magnifico even realizes what's going on, Johnson locks his hands, trapping the luchadore's neck and arm between his arms and locking him into the Olympic Hell!

 

"Olympic Hell!" Pete cries. "Johnson has Magnifico locked in his signature Side Arm Triangle Choke, and is using it to put a great deal of stress on ELM's damaged shoulder!"

 

"Ridiculous." King spits. "I'm sure Johnson is proud of himself for locking in that prepostrous-looking submission, but Magnifico will be able to power out of it in no time and make JJ look even sillier."

 

As the fans roar their approval, JJ pulls his arms as close together as they'll go, squeezing Magnifico's arm against his neck and putting a great amount of pressure on his damaged shoulder. Realizing that he'd do good to get out of this as quickly as possible, the luchadore grits his teeth through the pain and uses his free hand to grab a big handful of JJ's hair. Magnifico yanks at Johnson's scalp with all he's got, which only serves to annoy Johnson, as his grip doesn't weaken one bit despite the painful hair pulling. ELM lets out a cry of agony and frustration, the pain in his shoulder increasing by the second. The ref asks Magnifico if he wants to submit, receiving only a weary shake of the head from the luchadore, who also appears to be weakening thanks to the choking part of the submission. Sensing a submission is near, every fan in the arena cheers their little heart out, doing their best to spur JJ on and choke Magnifico out. Determined to not let that happen, ELM reaches for Johnson's leg with his foot, looking to wrap it around JJ's shin, trip him up, and get out of the submission! But when JJ sees Magnifico's foot snaking around his leg, he suddenly lifts him into the air, turns, and then falls onto his stomach, pulling ELM down with him and slamming his neck and shoulder into the canvas with the Rolling Olympic Hell! The pop that rises from the crowd is massive in its magnitude, only growing louder when Johnson floats onto the luchadore and makes the cover! As the ref slides into position, Johnson reaches over and hooks the leg of the motionless luchadore...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRRRRRRRNNNNOOOO!! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at the last possible moment, drawing a booming "OHHHHH!" from the disappointed crowd. ELM immediately grips his shoulder and grits his teeth after kick out, the pain now flowing freely through the damaged appendage.

 

"No! JJ hit his modified Sambo Suplex, but it wasn't quite enough to keep Magnifico down for the three count!" LDP breathlessly reports.

 

But as Magnifico reaches for Johnson's neck, JJ suddenly throws his head forward, slamming his forehead right into the bridge of ELM's nose with a vicious Headbutt! The crowd roars its approval as Magnifico immediately releases JJ's arm and shoots both hands to his nose, pressing down on it as a small trickle of blood flows out of the right nostril. With Magnifico sufficently distracted, JJ is able to step to his side and wrap his right foot around ELM's right. Johnson then grabs Magnifico under the left armpit with his right arm, pulls out his right arm with his left, and then leans forward and uses his hold on ELM to push his entire body backwards! Magnifico and JJ are virtually parallel to the mat when Johnson suddenly and violently throws himself onto his back, pulling ELM with him and slamming his face into the canvas with a Standing Crash Landon! The live audience cheers louder than they have all night as Magnifico bounces slightly off of the mat before coming to rest face-down and motionless on the canvas, apparently completely stunned by the force of the maneuver!

 

"Standing Crash Landon! Oh my God!" Pete shouts above the din of the delighted crowd. "Out of nowhere, Johnson busts out the move that Landon Maddix used to put Magnifico down during their match in Amsterdam!"

 

"God damn it, that punk finds ways to piss me off even when he's not wrestling." King grumbles. "If JJ should somehow get a pinfall off of this, I'll tear my commentating liscense into tiny pieces."

 

"King, you don't have a liscense." Pete reminds him. "You just showed up at SWF Headquarters crocked out of your mind and demanding a job, so they unfortunately stuck you here."

 

"Magnifico could be in serious trouble here, and you're sitting there squabbling over minor details." King quickly changes the subject. "I'm ashamed of you, Pete."

 

Johnson takes a moment's rest after landing the Crash Landon, lying right next to Magnifico and staring blankly up at the lights. After a couple seconds, JJ rolls towards ELM, grabs him by the shoulder, and laboriously rolls the listless luchadore onto his back. Johnson then throws his body onto Magnifico's, drawing yet another pop from the overexcited crowd. JJ wearily reaches over and hooks Magnifico's leg, doing so as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRNNNNNOOOO!!

 

"OHHHHHHH!!"

 

Magnifico kicks out with the ref's hand millimeters from the mat! Visibly irritated, Johnson rolls off of the luchadore, slaps the mat, and begins to climb to his feet, leaving the stunned luchadore alone on the mat below.

 

"Thank God." King sighs while wiping sweat from his brow. "I can't tell you how furious I would be if a Landon Maddix move were to decide this match."

 

====

 

"With Johnson firmly in control of the match, it seemed like it was only a matter of time before we had a new World Heavyweight Champion... but anyone who's anyone knows you can't count El Luchadore Magnifico out."

 

Careful to keep his balance, JJ slowly stands on the top turnbuckle, facing away from the ring. Johnson looks out over the for a moment, seeing that every fan in his line of vision is focused directly on him, cheering them on as best they know how. JJ closes his eyes, takes a deep breath...and then leaps backwards off of the turnbuckle! Thousands of flashbulbs go off throughout the arena, bathing Johnson in light as he executes a breathtaking 720 Corkscrew in mid-air! JJ somehow ends up parallel to the ground and is about to drive his entire body right into Magnifico's gut...when ELM suddenly rolls out of the way, leaving Johnson to crash violently into the mat! The crowd's disappointment comes in the form of a deafening "OHHHH!" as JJ bounces almost a foot off of the mat before coming to rest, clenching his gut and gritting his teeth as he writhes in pain on the canvas.

 

"No! Johnson just missed!" Pete cries, unable to hide his disappointment. "JJ was so close to hitting with the Air Canada Moonsault, but Magnifico was able to get out of the way just in time!"

 

"Serves him right, I'd say." King joyfully proclaims. "Even you must be inwardly calling JJ stupid for straying from the shoulder work and attempting such a high risk move."

 

"Don't try to guess what my inner monologues are like anymore." Pete sharply warns. "You're completely wrong. Johnson realized that he was one high-impact move away from garnering a pinfall, and that even if he were to hook Magnifico into another submission, there's a chance he'd be able to escape from it before submitting. Attempting the Air Canada there was a risk on his part, but definitely a justifiable one."

 

JJ slowly but surely puts the pain racking his entire body out of his mind, slowly turning onto his stomach and beginning the long climb to his feet as Magnifico does the same a few feet away. Both men rise at about the same rate, that is to say, agonizingly slow. Anxious to get JJ on his feet, the crowd begins to cheer and chant, doing their best to spur JJ on.

 

"LET'S GO JAY JAY, LET'S GO!"

 

*CLAP CLAP*

 

"LET'S GO JAY JAY, LET'S GO!"

 

*CLAP CLAP*

 

"Would you people shut up?!" King snaps. "Bad enough I have to listen to your normal incoherent nonsense, but it's even worse when you're all saying the same stupid thing."

 

The cheer actually seems to work, as JJ quickens his pace somewhat, lunging to his feet as Magnifico remains stalled at one knee. Johnson falls into the ropes behind him, leaning against the cables and taking a much needed rest. However, when JJ sees Magnifico finally get to his feet, he grits his teeth and push himself off of the ropes, grabbing ELM by the arm shortly after he stands. Johnson then uses his grip to whip Magnifico across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards JJ, and as he approaches, Johnson steps up and wraps his arms around Magnifico's waist, capturing him in a Waistlock! However, before JJ can do anything with it, ELM behins to wildly drive his elbow into Johnson's forehead, desperate to escape the hold! JJ is resiliant at first, determined to land the Railgun Suplex...but Magnifico eventually wears him down, landing a particularly stiff Elbow Strike that allows him to wriggle free of Johnson's grip. ELM immediately steps to JJ's side after escaping the hold, then wraps his feet around Johnson's ankles! Before JJ has a chance to escape, Magnifico falls forward, tripping Johnson up with a Drop Toe Hold as he does so! ELM shoots his hands out mid-fall, wrapping them around Johnson's face and locking him into the Sangria Stretch as both men hit the mat! Magnifico yanks Johnson's neck backwards, tearing apart the ligaments within as the concerned crowd roundly boos the luchadore's actions.

 

"Whoo, that's more like it!" An overjoyed King declares. "Magnifico not only powered out of Johnson's pathetic attempt at a Railgun Suplex, but countered it into a Sangria Stretch!"

 

"Bad news for Johnson to be sure, but I've gotta say that this seems like a desperate move from Magnifico." Pete analyzes. "Even though the Sangria Stretch is a devastating submission, it puts a great amount of stress on the shoulder. If the Stretch doesn't garner a submission, it'll have done nothing but further damage Magnifico's shoulder."

 

The ref slides onto the mat and gets in JJ's face, asking him if he wants to submit. Johnson immediately and angrily shouts "NO!", right before shouting out in intense pain. JJ uses his hands to claw at Magnifico's, but his grip is vice-like; Johnson's clawing does nothing but irritate the luchadore, who leans back even further while yelling at JJ to submit. Johnson then claws at the mat and tries to pull himself towards the ropes, but he's in the center of the ring. JJ is unable to drag the combined weight of Magnifico and himself more than a few inches, nowhere near as far as he needs to go. Frustrated, JJ slaps the mat and cries out in pain, doing so as the concerned fans looks on, some of them booing and some of them watching in anxious silence. Johnson remains motionless for a few moments, simply suffering under the submission, until he begins to rock his body back and forth, apparently looking to turn Magnifico onto his back! Suddenly given hope, the crowd cheers JJ on as he rolls left and right, building up nearly enough momentum to turn ELM over! Magnifico curses loudly, releases one of his hands, and begins to bash away at the back of Johnson's head with his elbow! JJ immediately puts an end to his rolling, but the furious luchadore doesn't stop there, repeatedly pummeling his skull as the angry crowd boos louder than they have all night! Magnifico finally seems to calm down a bit, but that means he's composed enough to reapply the Stretch! Johnson, unable to escape the submission, releases a heartbreaking moan of anguish as Magnifico tears his neck apart with the submission.

 

"Hahaha, yes!" An exuberant King shouts. "No matter what Johnson tried, he wasn't able to escape! He's got to be mere moments away from tapping out at this point!"

 

"Frankly, I'm amazed that Magnifico's shoulder has held up this long." A concerned Pete admits. "At this rate, it's looking as though JJ just might submit before ELM is forced to release the Stretch!"

 

The ref once again asks JJ if he wants to submit, this time receiving no response from the weary competitor. A few moments later, Johnson slowly reaches out with a trembling hand, drawing thousands of shouts of "NO!" from the distraught audience. JJ's hand floats over the canvas, ready to betray Johnson and give up the match. With twenty thousand people in the arena and millions around the world watching in horror, Johnson lifts his hand higher, seemingly prepared to tap out...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...when Magnifico suddenly releases the hold, screaming in pain and frustration as he does so! As the relieved crowd releases a deafening pop, ELM grips his shoulder and rolls away from Johnson, writhing in pain as JJ lays face-down and motionless only a few feet away.

 

"No! No!" A delighted Pete shouts as King rips off his headset and curses up a storm. "Magnifico's shoulder gave out at the last moment! JJ's shoulder work pays off in ways he couldn't have foreseen, as he's saved from having to submit to the Sangria Stretch!"

 

The crowd maintains its ridiculous level of volume despite Magnifico and Johnson doing nothing but laying there, their bodies racked with pain. After what seems like hours but is actually only about fifteen seconds, ELM begins to slowly, laboriously climb to his feet, slowed down significantly by an arm that's been rendered almost useless. As such, when JJ begins to push himself to his feet a few moments later, he's able to catch up with Magnifico fairly easily, reaching his hands and knees only a second or two after the luchadore. Once again, the crowd cheers and chants as one, completely united in their desire to see Johnson get to his feet and continue his fight against Magnifico.

 

"It may just be because he's fighting Magnifico, but would you just listen to these fans support JJ Johnson?" Pete shouts over the live audience. "They are ready to see JJ defeat Magnifico and become the new World Champion!"

 

Finally, ELM reaches his feet, stumbling somewhat as he does so but managing to maintain his balance. A second later, JJ lunges to his feet...only to be immediately grabbed by Magnifico and lifted into the air! ELM spins Johnson's body around in mid-air and is about to drive him downwards for La Dia de los Muertos, only to have the additional stress on his elbow stop him dead in his tracks halfway through! Johnson wriggles out of ELM's grip, but instead of simply falling behind him, JJ scissors Magnifico's arm with his legs while still on his shoulders! Johnson then wraps one arm around Magnifico's face before throwing his entire body backwards, pulling ELM down with him as he falls to the mat! While maintaining the Scissors and the Crossface, JJ reaches for Magnifico's arm, the one that happens to house the damaged shoulder, and twists it into a Chickenwing behind ELM's body! The live audience is confused at first, but when they recognize the submission, they roar louder then they've roared all night, easily drowning out the luchadore's piercing cries of pain!

 

"Oh my God!" Pete cries while slapping his forehead. "Wing Span! JJ Johnson has locked Magnifico in the Wing Span, the deadly finisher made famous by his stablemate, Jay Hawke!"

 

"Damn it, can't this jerk at least use his own moves?!" King snaps, irritated. "At least this isn't as bad as stealing one of Maddix's, but I can't execuse Johnson's constant theft of other people's maneuvers."

 

"Uh, King, maybe you should be a little more concerned about the ridiculously intense pain that Magnifico seems to in." Pete advises. King stares at LDP for a second, his mouth agape, before turning his attention to the ring, suddenly very concerned.

 

The ref drops to his knees and gets right in Magnifico's face, asking him if he wants to submit. ELM throws his head from side to side, his eyes closed and his teeth gritted. Seeing the ropes in front of him, Magnifico plants his feet and tries to drag himself over to them, believing that to be his best way to escape the submission. However, that plan turns out to be a bit too ambitious, as ELM isn't able to drag both him and Johnson more than a few inches across the mat. JJ wrenches the Chickenwing even higher up Magnifico's back, drawing a piercing cry of pain from the luchadore. The ref again asks him if he wants to submit, this time receiving no response from the luchadore.

 

"This is playing out much as it did a few moments ago when Magnifico had Johnson captured in the Sangria Stretch." Pete observes. "But in this case, there's nothing keeping JJ from indefinitely maintaining the hold. If he can't figure out a way to escape the Wing Span, Magnifico will be forced to submit and relinquish the Championship!"

 

Sensing that the end is near, every fan in the arena rises to their feet and cheers their little heart out, the moment they've been waiting for finally coming after so long. However, ELM seems intent on disappointing them, as he refuses to submit despite constant questioning from the referee. Suddenly, Magnifico plants his feet again, pushing himself off of the mat somewhat and giving him a bit of leverage. ELM then shifts his body back and towards Johnson's head, pressing his shoulders onto the canvas! With the bit of movement he has left in his scissored hand, Magnifico grabs both of JJ's ankles, holding his legs together as the ref slides into position and begins counting!

 

ONE!

 

JJ realizes what's going on and releases the Crossface...

 

TWO!

 

JJ lets go of Magnifico's Chickenwinged arm, leaving ELM to simply fall onto his chest...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JJ pulls his legs apart, breaking Magnifico's hold on them...

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE!! Johnson finally gets his shoulders off of the mat, but he's a half second too late! The stunned crowd is almost instantly silenced as the ref jumps to his feet and signals for the bell!

 

DING DING DING

 

"Your winner, by pinfall, and STILL, SWF World Heavyweight Champion..." Funyon bellows. "EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOORRE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Magnifico immediately rolls away from Johnson and under the ropes closest to the ramp, stepping to the outside as a confused, infuriated JJ wonders what the hell just happened. Energized by pure, unadultered anger, Johnson jumps to his feet and grabs the referee by the shirt, demanding to know how Magnifico garnered a pinfall just now.

 

"Yes! YES!" King jumps out of his seat and pumps his fist into the air. "Don't you EVER count Magnifico out! He'll NEVER give up!"

 

"I...I'm not even sure what just happened." A thunderstruck Pete confesses. "One second Magnifico was suffering under the Wing Span, the next, he's pinned Johnson and won the match!"

 

"I guess I'll explain it to you, then." King offers, more than happy to do so. "Magnifico was able to press Johnson against the canvas by lifting himself off of the mat and then arching his body back and to the side, pushing JJ down to the mat. It would have been hard enough for Johnson to untangle himself before the three count, but by grabbing JJ's legs and holding them together, ELM significantly reduced Johnson's ability to kick out."

 

"By the time he had freed his legs, it was too late." King smugly states. "And may I just say, this a perfectly fitting ending to this match. Johnson admittedly had Magnifico in a dangerous position. But not only was ELM able to escape the Wing Span, one of the deadliest submissions in the federation, he was able to reverse it into a pin and win the match right then and there."

 

The terrified referee tries his best to explain what happened, gesticulating wildly and trembling beneath JJ's grip as he does so. Having heard enough, Johnson throws the ref to the canvas and charges towards the side of the ring Magnifico just exited through. His hands clenching the top rope, Johnson practically screams at the referee, insisting that he get back into the ring. Halfway up the ramp, ELM pauses and turns towards the ring, his eyes meeting JJ's. Magnifico's expressionlessly stares at Johnson for a few seconds...until a cheerful grin slowly creeps across his face. ELM turns on his heel and continues up the ramp, causing an absoultely furious JJ to curse loudly and violently strike a nearby turnbuckle.

 

"Johnson is absolutely incensed, and I can't blame him." Pete grimly assesses. "He had done everything right in this match; he was able to escape every attempt Magnifico made at a pinfall or submission, and was mere moments away from making ELM submit and winning the World Championship."

 

"Do I have to spell this out for you?" King asks, exasperated. "Magnifico isn't where he is because he's stronger or quicker than everyone else. I'll be the first to admit that. ELM has been such a fantastic World Champion because, frankly, he's more clever than anyone else in this federation. And he'll be the World Champion until someone can outsmart Magnifico as well as outfight him."

 

Pete doesn't say a word. He's as nearly depressed and shocked as the live audience, who can only watch in silence as Magnifico makes his way towards the back, leaving JJ behind him. Johnson can only watch as ELM disappears behind the curtain, a wide, exuberant grin on his face...

 

FADE OUT

 

====

 

"And there you have it," Hardy says as we come back to the studio. "It was a hard fought, somewhat controversial victory, but in the end Magnifico retains his championship. Barring any unforseen circumstances, it will be Wes Davenport versus El Luchadore Magnifico at From the Fire. Talk about a mismatch, huh?"

 

"Y-"

 

"Don't answer that."

 

"..."

 

"Stick around - we've got more Aftershox action coming up next!"

 

Fade out...

Edited February 4, 2006 by chirs3

[the.weej 0]

Coming Soon, another addition addition to the Wes Davenport Collection.

 

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

 

A whole world at war...

 

A military base somewhere in the American midwest. A familiar looking US Army lieutenant (Wes Davenport) is pacing up and down in front of all-black infantry company.

 

The forces of freedom united against a common foe...

 

"Gentlemen, all of Europe is counting on is. It is going to be the actions of OUR soldiers that decide the outcome of this war. And this means YOU soldiers!" he shouts, pointing at them. "We have to do what must be done to save this world and make sure nothing like this ever happens again. We are going to KILL those French bastards and impregnate all of their women!"

 

...and yet, still divided.

 

Wes walks down the first row of men, stopping to stare another familiar looking one in the face. "Do I make myself CLEAR?" "Yes, sir," the soldier sounds off. The camera closes in on him. "...motherfucker."

 

Wes Davenport is Lieutenant Thomas Teresa

 

Cut to Davenport walking alongside a Colonel. "Sir, I just don't understand why--"

 

"This is a tough mission, so that's why you got it. You know that, surely?"

 

"My name's Teresa, sir."

 

"Oh, sorry."

 

And Samuel L. Jackson is Corporal Martin Luther Vandros

 

Another scene, with Jackson and Davenport face-to-face inside his command tent. "You think I'm gonna' take orders from your white ass just because you outrank me, motherfucker?"

 

"Damn it, Vandros. You may not like me and I may not like you, but your the best man in this entire outfit!"

 

In a story about men...

 

The assault on Omaha Beach quickly comes into view. Soldiers leaving their landers get cut down in droves by swaths of machine gun fire. Explosions rock the beach. The camera closes in on Jackson as he crawls up the sand, before a massive explosion detonates right next to him. Wes jumps in and attempts pull the wounded Jackson up the beach. "Leave me, motherfucker! Leave me!"

 

"I don't leave any of my men behind, goddamn it!"

 

...Who became soldiers...

 

Another scene, this time in a military hospital somewhere in France. Jackson is bedridden, and Davenport is sitting at the end. "They forced you to resign your command? What is they motherfuckers thinking?"

 

"They think I'm crazy, Vandros. Ike doesn't believe me, but the Nazis are after something. A thing... to rule them all. If they find it, they could still win this war!"

 

"And whatchu want me to do about it, motherfucker?"

 

"Vandros, I know where it is. But I need your help."

 

"Motherfucker... you are crazy. But you saved my life, and I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth."

 

"Would you follow me... to Vietnam?"

 

Who became banded together for glory and won medals of honour on the battlefields of 1942 in the day of defeat... and were also...

 

Davenport and Jackson in a field. Both are weeping, and dramatically embrace each other.

 

"Man... I love you, man!"

 

"I love you too, motherfucker!"

 

...BROTHERS...

 

Wes and Samuel are suddenly seen charging over the lea of a hill, dressed in kilts and war harnesses, weilding broadswords and wearing facepaint. Behind them, a regiment of musket-wielding minutemen follows.

 

"FREEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" Wes bellows as he runs headlong into a crowd of British redcoats, followed by the American revolutionaries. Jackson, however, stops short.

 

"Wait, what in the shit is going on here?"

 

...FOR AMERCIA!

 

"Goddamn it, they got here first!"

 

Jackson and Davenport somewhere in the jungles of Southeast Asia. German Panzers are engaged, inexplicably, with Viet-Cong forces.

 

"Can't we just let them Nazi and Commie motherfuckers blow each other up?"

 

"Yeah... if we don't get destroyed by them first."

 

Coming this spring to DVD, for the very first time.

 

"It's a ship!" Davenport points up, as a massive UFO suddenly appears, filling the night sky over the jungle. It centers over a squadron of Panzers, before charging up and firing a massive beam that obliterates all of the Nazis. "What the fuck? Aliens? Are they after the thing, too?"

 

"No... I think... they MADE the thing. The communists are aliens! ROBOT aliens!"

 

A story about how war affects us all.

 

The interior of an ancient Indian temple, presumably deep in the south of Vietnam. A Nazi officer is pointing a gun at a wounded Davenport, as well as Jackson. "You can't honestly expect to take over the world like this!" shouts Davenport, holding onto his leg. "The Thing isn't a toy! It will destroy you! And if it doesn't, the forces of freedom--"

 

"Enough! The curtain has only risen on our thousand year reich! But it has closed... on you..." the officer prepares to finish off Davenport, but a new voice interrupts.

 

"Vait. I vil finish off these meddling Americans myself!"

 

"Hitler!" Jackson gasps. "You ain't dead?"

 

"Zat's vat I vanted you to think!"

 

Own the greatest war film never released in any theatre.

 

The same setting, Hitler and Jackson face-to-face. Hitler is clearly Jeremy Irons in laughable makeup at best, trying desperately to hold onto a German accent.

 

"Ze only thing that can save your friend now is the power of the Thing! "But to get it... you vil have to go through me first."

 

"Motherfucker, you expect some bohemian corporal to be a match for me?" Irons laughs and tears off his uniform, revealing a chiseled physique.

 

"I vil show you why we deserve to be ze master race!" Jackson and Irons engaged in badly choreographed grappling, with clips showing Jackson getting the upper hand, knocking Irons to the floor.

 

"This is the end for you, my Furher... motherfucker."

 

"I zink not!" Irons trips Jackson, and then picks him up, throwing him onto his back in a familiar looking maneuver... "Mein Gott! Ze Furher has him in the THIRD RACK!"

 

COMPANY OF HONOURABLY BANDING BROTHERS

 

Cut to Wes and Jackson staring out over a cliff, into the sunrise. "If we work together, we can do anything. Overcome any boundry, any enemy!"

 

"You damn right, motherfucker. You goddamn right."

 

Mankind's darkest hour... mankind's greatest triumph...

Edited February 4, 2006 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

"Welcome back to SWF AftershoX," announces SWF play by play commentator Longdogger Pete, "live tonight from the sold out Cow Palace in San Francisco, California! It's been a thrilling week of SWF action. We are just five days removed from this year's Clusterfuck, and coming up next is tonight's main event, pitting the Crimson Skull against the returning Insane Luchadore in hardcore action!"

 

"IL is back again?" mutters an incredulous Suicide King at color commentary. "His ass was getting schooled way back when it was fashionable!"

 

"Hey, don't underestimate Insane Luchadore's talent," counters Pete. "It is said that he may have actually come back from the dead! That's never happened here in the SWF!"

 

King raises an eyebrow. "Wait, didn't Mr. Galatea once--"

 

"As I was saying," Pete interrupts, "this will be a big match for both competitors, because--"

 

Suddenly a series of white flashing lights illuminate the stage, and the opening chords of "I'm Alive" by Disturbed begin to play on the speakers. All eyes look to the stage, and out comes Kevin Coyote, dressed as usual in his jean jacket and his black SWF "InJustice For All" T-shirt. Surprisingly, for once, his cell phone is not in his hand; in fact, both hands rest in the pockets of his jacket. Coyote appears superbly focused as he makes his way down the ramp.

 

Never again will I be dishonored

And never again will I be reminded

We're living within the world of the jaded

They killed inspiration

It's my obligation

To never again, allow this to happen

Where do I begin?

The choices are endless

Denying the sin

My art, my redemption

I carry the torch of my fathers before me

 

"Kevin Coyote?" wonders Pete. "What the hell's he doing out here? He isn't scheduled for a match tonight!"

 

"I guess the guy's got something to say!" replies King.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon announces from inside the ring, "please welcome... KEVIN... COYOTE!"

 

Coyote's arrival is met with loud jeering from the audience, but he merely shakes it off, sliding into the ring as his music continues 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

 

As "I'm Alive" fades out, Coyote takes his right hand out of his pocket and motions to Funyon to hand him the microphone. Funyon does so, and Coyote waits a moment for the booing to die down before speaking.

 

"As you all know," Coyote says, addressing the audience, "I was unsuccessful in winning the Clusterfuck match this past Sunday. That honor went to Wes Davenport--"

 

A round of applause goes up from the San Francisco crowd as they are reminded of Wes Davenport's impressive performance.

 

Coyote continues speaking on the microphone, while keeping his left hand jammed in his pocket. "--and he certainly deserves all the accolades he gets. As for me, I was the thirteenth man to enter and the fifteenth man to be eliminated. I was thrown out by the Ultraviolent Champion, Bruce Blank. Now I'll get my chance to get back at him soon enough - but that's another story, for another day. Today, I'm out here with an announcement to make."

 

"Well, here it comes," says Pete.

 

"Here what comes?" asks King.

 

"Whatever information William Hearford has that he's been holding over Coyote's head the last couple of weeks, threatening to go public with!"

 

"One of the SWF's road agents," says Coyote in the ring, "William 'Justice' Hearford, has linked me to a document that has recently come into his possession - a copy of my original birth certificate. He has threatened to go public with the information on it unless I do. So I cannot hold the truth back from all of you any longer. But first... there's someone I need to address, someone I need to face in the ring, right away. Longdogger Pete!"

 

"What?" asks Pete. "Me? Why's he calling me?"

 

"I guess he wants to talk to you!" answers King. Pete continues to hesitate, and King looks impatient. "Well, get up there already!"

 

Pete frowns, then takes off his headphones and stands up, vacating the commentary table and climbing into the ring. He stands up to his full and impressive height of six feet, six inches, and stares down Coyote.

 

"Longdogger Pete," says Coyote, his expression unreadable. "Otherwise known as Peter MacDougal. Eighteen year veteran of this business, a great wrestler, a great champion, and now," Coyote waves the microphone around in the air for emphasis. "A great guy on the mike as well."

 

Pete says nothing, wondering just what Coyote is getting at.

 

"I wanted you up here face to face while I told the world my secret," says Coyote. "You see... my name is not really Kevin Coyote. According to my birth certificate, it's not even Kevin Douglas. My real name... is Ethan... MacDougal... and that makes me... your son!"

 

"WHAT!" hollers King.

 

There is a collective gasp from the audience. Pete stands there, open mouthed, in total and utter shock. He mouths a few words that the microphone doesn't pick up. Coyote helps Pete out, handing the microphone over to him.

 

"A-after all this time," stammers Pete, his voice breaking, "it's you... I didn't realize it would be someone already in the bid'ness..."

 

"Is this even possible?" King says to himself. "Coyote is actually LDP's son?"

 

Coyote actually manages a smile, and in deference to his father, extends his right hand for a handshake.

 

Pete stares at it for a moment, then takes the proffered hand. Instead of a handshake, however, Pete pulls Coyote into an embrace, dropping the microphone in the process. The San Francisco audience begins to applaud.

 

"I hate happy endings," says King. "This is disturbing!"

 

Coyote takes a step back from Pete, pulling away from the hug. He stares at his father, continuing to smile at him...

 

...as he finally removes his left hand from his jacket pocket...

 

...as the audience sees the brass knuckles wrapped around Coyote's hand...

 

Pete, staring directly at Coyote's face, never sees it coming.

 

POW!

 

One sharp impact to the side of the face, and Longdogger Pete crumples to the mat like a sack of potatoes. The audience applause quickly changes to a more negative reaction.

 

"Now that's more like it!" squeals King in delight.

 

Coyote kneels over his fallen father, but doesn't let up, continuing to bludgeon the announcer, striking repeatedly across the face with his left hand, bruising and finally busting open Pete's head.

 

"Interesting," says King. "Looks like Coyote's a lefty. Funny how I only just noticed that now."

 

Coyote lifts up Pete's head to survey the damage he's done. He smiles at the sight of the blood trickling down Pete's face. Coyote begins shouting at Pete, and though he no longer carries the microphone, the cameras pick up a few faint words: "You like that, 'dog?' Huh? How do you like that, 'dog?'"

 

His words become quickly drowned out by the audience, picking up a chant of "KEV-IN SUCKS! KEV-IN SUCKS! KEV-IN SUCKS!" Coyote steps away from Pete finally, then climbs out of the ring. As he heads up the ramp, he is passed by a group of EMT's carrying a stretcher. He ignores them completely as he walks back to the stage.

 

"Well this doesn't look good for Longdogger Pete," says King, "as he has just been totally mutilated by his own son! Folks, we've got to go to a break, but what will happen when we come back? Will we have a substitute announcer for the main event? Or will I just be talking to myself? Find out next, right here on SWF AftershoX!"

 

The camera focuses on an image of the medics attempting to coax the 270 pound Pete onto the stretcher, then fades out on them as AftershoX goes to a commercial.

[the.weej 0]

SWF Aftershox returns from the Cow Palace where the ecstatic fans are rallied for the upcoming main event. The camera pans through the throngs of rowdy fans who flash their signs or show their merchandise until it reaches ringside. Ben Hardy sits in place of Longdogger Pete and the Suicide King sits next to him with a frown.

 

“Welcome back,” Ben Hardy says, acting as a replacement for LDP, “we are back and ready for the main event. We are still off the heels of the amazing Clusterfuck and this show has been just as hot.”

 

King sighs. “Honestly, are you two the best we could do as replacements?”

 

The camera pulls back to reveal the one and only, Bobby Riley. “Oh come on King, two men are always better than one,” he innocently says.

 

King tries to pass his laughter off as a cough but fails miserably.

 

Riley innocently asks, “What? You can’t honestly say that two men can never be as exciting as three. Two’s company, but three’s a crowd, you know?”

 

King shamelessly bursts into laughter.

 

“Anyway,” Hardy says to end the awkward moment. “It’s time for our main event and it looks to be absolutely insane. That’s right, the Insane Luchador, Andrew Rickmen, is making his return tonight!”

 

“That was an awful segue,” King mumbles as he misses his usual partner.

 

“He is here for some hardcore action,” Riley says while Hardy makes a preemptive slap at King’s shoulder. “He is going to face off against The Crimson Skull in a hardcore match.”

 

“Man, I could have sworn he was reported…”

 

“No,” King cuts him off quickly.

 

“THIS MATCH IS FOR ONE FALL AND IT IS A HARDCORE MATCH… THERE ARE NO RULES AND NO TIME LIMIT…”

 

Suddenly sparks explode from the stage as the fans begin to express their displeasure. Six scantily clad women, to numerous pathetic cat calls, come out from the entrance ramp.

 

Everybody dance now!

 

“Gonna’ Make You Sweat” by C&C Music Factory kicks up as The Crimson Skull and his assistant Heff step out.

 

“Now that is one thumpin’ bass beat,” Riley says.

 

The ripped Crimson Skull, evil hero extraordinaire, begins his way to the ring in his black spandex shirt, complete with red crimson skull, black tights, and a silver belt while his red cape flaps behind him. His loyal sidekick Heff fends off the outreaching fans.

 

“INTRODUCING… FROM KIEV, UKRAINE… WEIGHING IN AT 285 AND ACCOMPANIED BY HEFF- THE CRIMMMSSSOOOONNNN SSSSSKKKKKUUUULLLL!”

 

Riley is shocked at the fan’s reaction. “How can you cheer on a crazy dead guy but boo a superhero!”

 

“He’s not dead!” Hardy blurts.

 

“He’s an evil villain,” King sarcastically corrects.

 

The evil duo hit ringside and immediately head over to generic SWF employee #3 to intimidate the ringside crew. He bails out of his steel chair and Heff snatches it then folds it before handing it over. The Crimson Skull throws the chair into the ring and rolls in. He grabs the steel chair and stands tall in middle of the ring where his intimidating stature overwhelms his goofy appearance. On the outside Heff begins to yell final words of advice.

 

“The Crimson Skull has a steel chair and he looks serious,” Hardy says.

 

“…How can you tell, only his mouth is exposed?” King asks.

 

Two loud drumbeats blare followed by a grinding guitar riff. The fans burst into cheers as Alice in Chain’s “Man in the Box” begins to signal Insane Luchador’s return. The red and black pyrotechnics explode on the sides of the entrance ramp. Through the lingering smoke that hovers over the ramp the Insane Luchador is exposed. He looks around to the electric crowd as he is just how the fans remember him. He wears the same baggy khaki cargo pants, beaten black skate shoes, a black and red Zero “Dying to Live” t-shirt, black hair spiked up, and the same unnerving smile plastered on his face.

 

“There he is, alive and well,” Hardy says.

 

“Looking better than ever too,” Riley comments.

 

“Probably just as inept as ever too,” King replies.

 

“RETURNING… FROM EASTON, PENNSYLVANIA AND WEIGHING IN AT 221 POUNDS… IIIIINNNSSAAAANNNEEEE LLLLUUUCCHHHAADDOOORR!”

 

Insane Luchador steps past the entrance ramp into complete light and a very important accessory is seen. He holds his Excalibur, the infamous light tube sword, and lifts it into the air to gather more support. He sprints down towards ringside where Heff begins to move in. Luchador puts on the brakes and raises the sword into the air that sends Skull’s cohort cowering away. He smirks and looks up at The Crimson Skull while he carefully slides into the ring. He scrambles to his feet and walks right over to the man who towers over him by three inches and outweighs him by sixty-four pounds. Matthew Kivell steps in between the two and realizes the total absence of rules. He sighs and steps away to signal for the ring bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Insane Luchador and The Crimson Skull slowly circle in center of the ring as they both defensively hold their weapons. Suddenly the feel each other out as Luchador narrowly avoids a chair shot. He responds by trying to swing his light tube but whiffs as the Skull moves back. Heff chimes in at ringside with a very logical statement towards the Crimson Skull.

 

“In many senses this could become a handicapped match if Heff joins in,” Hardy says.

 

Skull and IL lunge out as if in a dual. The chair and light tube connect as IL’s Excalibur breaks into a million little pieces.

 

“I bet Luchador could really milk his experiences into a memoir,” King muses.

 

Insane Luchador glances down at the falling pieces as if surprised that steel can break glass. He makes a face of amusement and then looks up to The Crimson Skull but only sees a blur of steel. A vicious chair shot connects with Luchador on top of the head that plants him onto the canvas. The Crimson Skull drops the chair and lazily goes for a cover-

 

ONE! IL kicks out and rolls away to his feet. Skull picks the chair back up while Insane Luchador shoots him a look of surprise that he even bothers to pin him.

 

“It will take a lot more than a simple chair shot to take IL down,” Hardy says.

 

“That’s true,” Riley says. “But how can he possibly outlast a dastardly villain like The Crimson Skull?”

 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Hardy slowly responds.

 

The Crimson Skull makes a blatant charge with the chair held high over his head. Insane Luchador kicks him in the gut to halt his momentum then knees him in the face. He drops the chair and IL kicks it out of his range. He begins to bombard Rickmen with right hands until Luchador blocks one. He throws out a jab and an uppercut that dazes the Skull then finishes off the attack with an Irish whip. Insane Luchador runs into the opposite ropes and the two come charging back at each other. He leaps into the air and smacks his opponent down with a flying clothesline. He uses the momentum to roll out of the ring where he begins to hunt underneath the ring apron. There’s a moment of pause until he pulls out a light tube bundle.

 

“Man he’s really cutting to the chase here,” Hardy says.

 

“When you lack the talent to wrestle usually it’s a good idea to grab some blunt or sharp things,” King replies.

 

He slides the light tube bundle into the ring and continues to rummage around. The Crimson Skull rolls up to his feet and sees the bundle just sitting there. Meanwhile Luchador is fully engaged to find a weapon suitable to his taste and is obliviously to the creeping Heff. The cohort of chaos draws back and smacks Luchador in the kidneys with a kick. He just stands up and slowly turns around to get hit by a right hand that snaps his head to the side. Heff begins to retreat and looks up at Skull who holds the bundle high into the air. He throws it down and they shatter onto his back. This time he reacts as he stumbles forward and turns his attention to Skull. He stares up into the air and gets clubbed from behind by Heff.

 

“Insane Luchador is at a serious disadvantage here,” Hardy says.

 

“He just can’t handle being double teamed,” Riley says.

 

“Well if you were hit and dropped like this kid was, you’d always be at a serious disadvantage too,” King snickers.

 

Insane Luchador reacts quickly as he spins around and smacks Heff in the face with a spinning backfist! He drops to the cement and Luchador slides into the ring. The Crimson Skull begins to stomp on Rickmen before he can even stand to the fans’ disapproval. He grabs IL by the hair and tugs him to his feet. He tries to tie up with the Luchador but receives a quick jab to the face. Insane Luchador knees him in the gut and reaches over to lock in a side headlock. He cranks at The Crimson Skull’s neck but forgets the massive strength of his opponent as he’s shoved off into the ropes. The Skull bounces into the near ropes to be charging at IL. He collides with a vicious spear that smacks IL against the canvas. He hooks the leg while lying on Luchador-

 

ONE! Luchador kicks out again and rolls up to his feet as Skull stands up. The two tie up in center of the ring as they fight for positions.

 

“Insane Luchador really needs to use his speed here no matter how bad he wants to brawl,” Hardy says.

 

“Well don’t tell him that,” Riley says.

 

Finally Skull slaps Luchador’s arms away and grabs IL by the throat. He lifts him into the air and tosses him away. He already rushes towards the downed Luchador but gets taken down with a drop toehold. He slides over on the canvas and grabs the back of Crimson’s head. He slams him face first against the canvas and lifts up his head just to smack it down again. IL stands up and walks over to the steel chair that he picks up with morbid curiosity. He feels its weight out as if just amusing himself as Skull slowly gets to his feet. He charges forward and swings the chair into the air- viciously bringing it down onto Skull’s skull! The super villain’s weakness is exposed to steel moving at high speeds as he crumbles to the canvas. IL drops the chair and Heff senses trouble. He slides into the ring with a kamikaze charge. Luchador simply side steps him and gives a little push letting the momentum take care of the rest. He flies through the middle ropes and Luchador grins in satisfaction. Skull slowly begins to recover. He walks over to the glass shards left over from his Excalibur. He scoops them into his hand and sprinkles them over the chair. Skull groggily gets to his feet and Luchador wraps in a front headlock. Heff shouts as if it’ll do any good as Luchador snaps back to hit the Evenflow DDT onto the chair. He lets the lifeless villain flop over as he hooks the leg-

 

“ONE!” The fans chant.

 

“Oh come on!” King blurts.

 

 

“TWO!” “It’s like we’re rushing things,” Hardy muses.

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“YOUR WINNER… INSSAANNEEE LLLUUUCCCHHHHAAADOOORR!”

 

“Well that was an interesting return but IL comes out on top,” Riley says.

 

“Right but I have a feeling things aren’t over, so don’t go away!” Hardy says.

 

-Starwipe-

[the.weej 0]

... Backstage ...

 

"I can't believe this!" yells the Crimson Skull, picking up a chair, and thrusting it into the wall. "I lost to a man that was dead to the world just last week!"

 

"Calm down, Skull." Heff barely spits out, before realizing that he's being eyed by a furious Supervillain.

 

"Calm down? Calm down?! I am fucking calm! What's wrong with me that I can't even win a match?! The biggest night of my career was Sunday night, and I looked like a fool!"

 

"I thought you looked..."

 

"SHUT UP!" Skull leans back against the wall. "You know what, it's not my problem. This isn't my fault."

 

"You're right... you're just a... um... victim of circumstances!"

 

"Yeah!"

 

"There's nothing wrong with you, it's everything else!" Heff tries to rally his boss' spirits.

 

"Yeah! And you know what is at the core of that problem?" Skull posses and obviously rhetorical question.

 

 

 

"... You." Skull grimaces and locks his stare onto Heff. "It's your fault that I'm losing. You're no help to me at all! What am I paying you for?! You've never pulled your own weight, not even once! Even a slug can pull it's body across the ground, I'm not even sure you can do that! The bottom line is... if I don't start winning, then you're fired!"

 

Skull heads straight towards the door...

 

"And get me a title shot!"

 

... and slams it behind him. Heff stands there in shock for a moment, his head hanging in shame. He looks around the room before moaning one final word.

 

"... fired?"

Edited February 4, 2006 by Justice

[the.weej 0]

Fucking Christ, that's a lot of promos.

 

Card up eventually, whenever I actually finish reading them all.

 

-Z