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SWF Lockdown's "Archives Of Moral Victories"

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Welp... It felt good, at least...


I didn't drill on the LDP / Coyote angle at all, because I knew it'd be already all over the show in other folks matches (and in Coyote's opener, I was sure)... Frankly didn't have much commentator interaction due to the throw-in of some first-person.


But, you decide.




SWF Lockdown fades back onto televisions worldwide to the huge throng of screaming masses packed into the Rose Garden. The camera pivots around to peruse the ecclectic mix of people, seeming to hail from anywhere and every...


Wow! Did you see the bozooms on that one?!? Check that... Zoom in on...


Oh... Yeah, right!


Sea of humanity, lots and lots of signs, blah blah blah, gals with huge...


...Heaps of love for the now-in-view Ben Hardy and Suicide King! Yeah, that’s it...


“Here we are, folks!” Ben Hardy starts, then... Stops. King looks over at his fill-in announce partner for a moment...


“Back again in Portland, for SWF Lockdown!” King finishes, then pokes Hardy in the shoulder. “Dude, I think you’ve been doing interview segments too long.”


“No, I was just trying to introduce some dramatic effect.”


“In a commercial return?” King whaps Ben upside the head. “Idiot.” He turns towards the camera. “Anyway, folks... If you’re just joining us, you’re a bunch of fucktards!”


“Hey! Is that anyway to treat our loyal listeners?” Hardy interrupts.


“If they were loyal, they’d have been here since the beginning of the show.”


“Oh... Yeah, good point.” Hardy looks into the camera with... Something resembling a look with as much menace as a baby chick. “Fucktards.” King sighs.


“Anyway.” King picks back up, “Our illustrious grand poobah, Joe Peters, mentioned something about a big announcement, but nothing has materialized yet...”


“But so far, we -have- had some decent matches,” Hardy interjects.


“Right,” King states with a chuckle, “Decent like the grand career of someone like Cutthroat... Or Xero.”


“Or Ash Ketchum,” Hardy offers cheerfully, but then shakes his head. “No no... These were good matches.” King holds up a hand.


“We had Arch Griffon and Michael Cross...”


“Returning veteran of some esteem and promising upstart rookie.” King smirks.


“What about Jimmy the Doom and The Crimson Skull?”


“Hailed war hero, fighting evil here and back home... And... Well, I just like Heff.” King rolls his eyes.


“And what about Amy Stephens and Insane Luchadore... Anything redeeming about those two, Ben?”


“Well, Amy is Toxxic’s younger sister, so she’s got lineage.. And... Andy Rickmen freaking beat death! How can you diss that???” King blinks, then sighs.


“Fine,” King mutters sarcastically. “I guess you have an answer for all my nay-saying.”


“Damn right I do.” Any continuing banter is eschewed out the door as...


“I’m born...”


“I’m alive...”




The crowds explodes into a rabid frenzy as The Unique Youth parts the curtains, the Cruiserweight Belt around his waist, and a sincere, but serious smile on his lips. He pauses top-side of the ramp, looking out over the audience for a moment before bolting down towards the ring, the crowd’s cheers pushing him on.


“Ladies and gentlemen,” intones the ever-present “Bloomin’” Funyon, “This match is a triple threat, Cruiserweight rules match, with the Cruiserweight Championship on the line!” The crowd ratchets (or is that more of a clank?) the noise up as Zyon lands a graceful leap into the ring, head-banging as his wont.


“For those at home who don’t know,” Hardy offers off-camera, “Cruiserweight rules dictate a 20 count outside of the ring, and no tosses over the top rope.”


“Thanks for the info, Mister Encyclopedia,” King retorts as Funyon continues.


“Introducing first, hailing from Elkhart, Indiana... He stands 5'11, 200 pounds... He is the SWF Cruiserweight champeen... He is “The Unique Youth”... He... Is... ZYYYYY-ONNNNN!!!” The plucky lad hands his belt off to the ref for eventual (and hopeful) return, and raises an arm, bringing the crowd and the roof up with another headbang.


“Zyon showing quite a lot as a champion, especially at his age,” Hardy observes.


“It’s called lack of competition, Ben,” King fires back, “He’ll have plenty to handle tonight in the form of...”


“Never again will I be dishonored,


And never again will I be reminded...”


The fans start jumping the incoming superstar’s shit before he even breaks the curtain...


Gotta love that.


And after a few moments of nothing but cascading boos and jeers... He -still- hasn’t come out.


“What’s going on here?” Hardy murmurs over a slowly-building, amused yet annoyed rumble from the crowd.


“Probably introducing some dramatic effect,” King mutters.


“...Riiiiight.” The crowd, meanwhile, has started up a happy little chant that they seem very enthused about:








“How disrespectful, I swear!” King gasps. “The nerve of these people!”


“Well y’know, King...”


“How about you take a swig of Shut The Hell Up, Ben! This is just rude!”


And the crowd only gets ruder as Kevin Coyote finally parts the drapes, met with an absolute cacophony of hate and malice...


But he doesn’t give a shit, because he’s talking to the phone that’s surgically attached to his ear! Oh, wait... No, it’s not. He proves it by bringing it down long enough to flick off the front row.


Nice guy.


The crowd responds in kind, 20 times louder. Ahh, the love...


“Introducing next,” Funyon belts out over the crowd (barely), “From Brunswick, Georgia... He is 5'11, 225 pounds... He is... Kevin... COYYYYY-OOOOO-TE!!!” The crowd proves that there is indeed a setting of “11" on their anti-enthusiasm for Coyote. As he steps by one of the ring-side microphones, we hear:


“Yeah, babydoll... After the match, yeah. Oh, you know it, baby...”


And then he’s out of range. He hangs up the phone, sets it on the timekeeper table, and climbs into the ring, greeting The Unique Youth with a stare and a sneer. Zyon, to his credit, just meets the stare, very calmly. There’s a nervous energy in the crowd, as if something might happen before the third participant shows.


“The tension’s so thick, King, you could cut it with a knife!”


“Will the knife gouge out your voice box too?”


“...What’d I say?” With that, the lights dim. The 2 combatants turn towards the entrance, and the crowd dies down to a very dull roar. The speakers get the pleasure of having Fergie and her boys from the Black Eyed Peas piped through them as “Anxiety” rocks the arena.


Well,” rocks” is probably too strong of a word, considering that would imply something more than the lukewarm crowd response currently being experienced. As it is, the music plays on, not caring about the crowd, and out from the back pops one Christian Fury. The crowd... Well, there’s a good amount of cheering, but not overly much... Nowhere near Zyon’s response. Fury doesn’t seem to mind overly much as he stalks down the ramp with the kendo stick over his shoulder. Zyon backs off slightly noting the weapon inbound... Coyote just seems to crack a smile.


“And introducing finally,” Funyon starts, then stops, realizing he’s screaming over a relatively dormant crowd... He drops his volume a bit as he continues.


“Hailing from Cleveland, Ohio... Standing 6'3, weighing 222 pounds... He is... Christian... FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!”Again, the faint response from the crowd as Fury drops the kendo stick ringside, and slides into the squared circle, eyeing his opponents.


“By the way, Ben,” King states, “I saw your interview.”


“Oh yeah?”


“Yeah. I don’t understand what he found wrong with your questioning.”


“Well, those were questions I needed to ask.”


“Oh no, I agree... I mean, after all, he was much better when...”




Ding ding DING!


As the bell rings, I hear the crowd ignite behind me. The two men that I’d been observing in the ring with me seem to have momentarily gotten together in a common goal.


Unfortunately, that common goal seems to be outing me from immediate competition.


The one known as Zyon, I can already tell, is lightning quick, and on me before I have a chance to breathe. Meanwhile, Kevin Coyote seems to be stalking the outer periphery, like his namesake... Looking for an opening. Advancing in, Zyon throws a swift right forearm... I catch it, twisting his arm around using his momentum, and...




...briefly put him to the mat, much to the dismay of the fans in attendance. To my semi-surprise, he kips up, reversing the twist, and managing to add one of his own. I slap my arm as I feel a bit of a searing in it, trying to reverse it myself... But...


Suddenly Coyote lets his presence be known as he levels the concentrating Youth with a clothesline. The crowd shows their displeasure as Zyon stumbles to the mat, yanking me off-balance with him... And Coyote takes advantage by introducing my head to his knee as I’m trying to regain my balance. My arm released, I find myself stumbling back a slight bit as Coyote presses his offense... Grabbing me by the arm, slinging me into the ropes. He catches me on the rebound, trying to toss me... But I manage to get my weight down to a solid base, and reverse the favor...




...putting him on his back. A minor response from the crowd ensues.


Gee, thanks.


Before I can take advantage, though, a set of arms wraps around my waist... Zyon.


The little bugger’s damn quick.


I feel him trying to power me up, but my base is still solid... His arms are cinched in... I lean back to try to use my arms to try to break him off of me... But apparently that’s what he was waiting as he manages to get me out of my solid base, and hauls...








The crowd response is fiery as he keeps his hold cinched in on my waist... The scurry of the ref...


ONE! The ref’s hand hits the canvas with a slap... But the second never comes... As I’m rolling my shoulders to break away, the bridge suddenly collapses. I roll slightly to see Coyote trying to put a boot down where the rolling Zyon’s rib cage was. That explains the break in the hold as Zyon comes to his feet, rubbing his side. I make it to my feet as well as Coyote and Zyon lock up in a test of strength... It looks damn even for a second or two until Coyote manages to free an arm, getting Zyon off-balance again, and throwing a loaded elbow smash to the Youth’s temple.


My turn now, bitches.


I charge in to impose my will on the unaware Coyote... Only to find that he’s not-so-unaware.


But I’m already committed, so I lower the shoulder, plant for a little more speed, and hope for the best...




...and I get it as I manage to mostly catch Coyote and put him to the mat. I stop my momentum and recover myself only to hear the crowd pick up in its exuberance...


The slap of a hand on the canvas...


I look back to find Zyon trying to take advantage of -my- work as he’s got Coyote’s leg hooked. I move in, but Coyote kicks out quickly enough, leaving Zyon rolling away.


This will not do at all.


I rumble over to where Zyon is regaining his feet, help him to his feet...


Only to plant him back down to the mat with a heavy short-line clothesline.


And boy the fans don’t like that.


Oh well.


I lift him back up and sling him towards the ropes...


I give a little spin, and throw a kick towards the oncoming Youth’s head...


The fans raise a hellacious cheer...


As Zyon slides right underneath my outstretched leg! I let the momentum keep me spinning to try to catch him on the other side, but...


Coyote stops my motion with a quick grab of the arm, then reverses it, spinning me back around... My mind’s swimming a little, but I can feel him grabbing my head... The fog clears as I feel myself dropping...




...to the mat, a shock of pain shooting through my neck. Not at all pleasant, and the crowd voices my feelings on the whole matter. Coyote comes to hook the leg...


ONE! But barely that as Zyon makes Coyote suffer a bout of Pinnus Interruptus with a dropped fist to the back of the head. I roll away as Coyote stands, holding the back of his head...


And the crowd rises up once more as Zyon lands a smooth-looking front dropkick to the unbalanced Coyote’s chest...




...felling him to the mat. And The Unique Youth follows that quick and dirty move with yet another kip-up!


Okay, that’s just disgusting, you know?


Finally to my own feet, Zyon approaches me with a forearm to the chest, driving me back towards the corner. I try to recover, but my wheels are still a little tingly from that Coyote neckbreaker. Zyon throws another forearm into me...


And another...


And yet another!


And the crowd is eating this up like it was Pixie Sticks.


Or Frost-Brand Whale Tacos.


As it is, the Youth has managed to plant me in the corner with continued forearms, and frankly... My chest is starting to hurt. It’s a little hard to get a full breath with as quick as he’s hitting these shots.


Suddenly, he stops. I watch as he grabs the top ropes on either side of me, lifting himself up...


This could be all sorts of bad.


I force myself up and out of the corner, and he releases off the ropes, seeing his move will be countered...


But I’m already on him, lacing a quick kick to his mid-section while he’s off balance. He falls flat back to the mat, and I advance in.


I realize that I have to get back to my usual game plan, or this guy’s speed will be my undoing. As he rolls to find his feet, I reach down, grabbing Zyon’s foot in a quick ankle lock. Then scissoring his leg, I drop to the mat hard. I’m rewarded with a loud grunt of pain and a whole arena of people giving me no end of anti-love. I’m very concentrated on this task of slowing this speedster down as I wrench the ankle a little more...


Suddenly I’m told how totally concentrated I am at a meeting of Coyote’s thigh with the side of my head at a speed that could only be created from a second rope drop. My world goes quite whirly and bubbly as my body releases the hold on Zyon’s leg, having received some sort of scrambled instruction from an addled brain to do so...


And suddenly, I remember why I hated wrestling triple threats so much...




The crowd exhales in relief as Fury’s hold on The Unique Youth’s ankle is released... They never thought they’d be thanking Kevin Coyote for anything, but here they are. The aforementioned Coyote hauls the aforementioned Fury up by the hair. He slings Fury into the corner, and follows suit as Zyon clamors to his feet.


“Looks like Fury might have had the right idea there,” muses Hardy as Zyon tries to walk off a small limp... Could be a stinger, could be damage... We can’t tell right now.


“All Fury did is forget about the major player in this match,” King responds. And indeed, Coyote is unloading cornered elbow shots. The crowd could care less about all that it seems as their murmured concerns are for the current Cruiserweight Champion. The minor limp he has is still there as he approaches Coyote, backing off from Fury in the corner. The crowd’s sudden cheering looks to put Coyote on edge as he turns, meeting a smiling Zyon...


And with a swiftness that seems to belie description, Zyon takes the fellow cruiserweight up in a scoop slam...


Then doing a graceful spin, sets Coyote up for a sit-out piledriver...




The crowd goes B-A-N-A-N-A-S! (Because, after all, this shit -is- bananas...)


“Holy Hell-In-A-Handbasket!” Hardy burbles. “Zyon with the Aero Driver!”


“It’s not enough, too soon, Ben!”


“We’ll see about that, King!” As Zyon hooks Coyote’s legs...




TWO!! But indeed, Coyote powers the shoulder out after the second count. Zyon doesn’t seem to mind as the crowd continues to pump him up. He hauls Coyote up, and launches him into the corner...




The same corner that just happened to contain the formerly-recovering Fury! The crowd applauds Zyon’s ingenuity and resourcefulness as he advances into the corner... But still with that light limp.


“Zyon just killed two bir...”


“Don’t... Even say it, Ben... You’re just as bad as Pete if you do...”


Zyon rushes into the corner, again grabbing the top ropes, much faster this time, trying to pull off his elevated basement dropkick, this time successfully...


However, the result is actually worse this time as Coyote launches out of the corner, catching the helpless Youth in ‘mid-air’! Both tumble in a heap...




...to the mat as we find...


“Fury broke up the attack blindly!” Hardy shouts as Fury slowly comes out of the corner... But suddenly...




TW... And we find that in their tangled mess, Coyote managed to get Zyon’s shoulders to the mat... But no more as Zyon pushes Coyote to the side.


“And Fury almost gave Coyote the means to win,” King retorts. “First thing he’s done almost right all match.” Coyote is to his feet, the Youth shortly behind, but Fury advances on the closer of the two... Suddenly the somewhat unawares Zyon is the victim of a quick and hard Russian legsweep! The crowd is all over Fury as he presses onward, leaving the Youth momentarily to take care of the advancing Coyote...




...who levels a shot against Fury’s chest, stopping him short... But he doesn’t stop his mind set as...




...Fury gives one right back!




Coyote takes exception...




...but Fury says, “You’ll take it, and like it!”... Just not in words...




...and Coyote says, “Fuck off, yo!”...




...and Coyote then ends the conversation with a tilde-bang in the form of a follow-up clothesline off of Fury’s chop. The crowd isn’t liking this at all...


“King, wake up!”


“Oh... Uh... Wha? Are they done slapping at each other, the pansies?” Coyote drops down, leveling stiff gut punches to the prone Fury, allowing him no quarter at all... But suddenly... The crowd erupts as The Unique, Yet Nearly Forgotten, Youth pulls Coyote off Fury with a spin... Slaps on the facelock...








The crowds has baby monkeys as Zyon completes the...


“Snap Brain-BUSTAAA...” Hardy tries to call...


“IIIII can’t believe you’d do that, Ben!” King follows right on his heels, as Zyon comes around to a good spot and hooks the leg.


“Do what?”




“Pull that Long-DOGGAAAAAH shit.”




“You mean... Like you just did?” The ref shows Zyon a two-count as Coyote runs the shoulder up.


“...Ah, crap.” King’s realization comes on the heels of the Youth’s slow climb to the top turnbuckle. The crowd urges him on as he looks over the ring... He sees the more-or-less prone form of Coyote... But he sees a more distinct threat.


That of the risen and approaching Chris Fury. Zyon makes a split-second decision, once again throwing caution to the wind...


After all, why save up for tomorrow what you can today...


Especially when you don’t know how many tomorrows you have left.


But just as he jumps, he sees something that makes him think that his day might get real good, real quick...




The crowd is off the charts as Zyon’s missile dropkick manages to knockdown both Fury -and- the poor soul known as Coyote, who had stood up and tried to engage on the offensive against Fury, unawares that a Cruise-R-Weight missile was incoming on his 6 o’clock! All three men wind up in a pile in the middle of the ring, tangled heap, all that...


“Again Zyon manages to bring both of his opponents down!” Hardy gushes.


“Yippie,” is the best response King can muster up as Zyon rises slowly to his feet to the joy of the crowd... His legs look a little wobbly, probably due to the fact he was dealt the impact of -two- human bodies under his feet. Coyote took the brunt of the punishment from initial impact, as he’s lying on the ground, holding his head in his hands and not much else... But then we see Fury slowly rising from ground level, seeing Coyote and probably realizing how lucky he really was...




Wow... I was -extremely- lucky.


I saw Zyon climbing, and I knew that I was in big trouble...


But Kevin Coyote, bless his heart, tried to beat my ass right in the nick of time! I am a little rattled, don’t get me wrong... But I’m nowhere near in the head-ringing shape that Coyote is.


But I have to take advantage...


Or not, as Zyon decides to back me off (and collapse my chest at the same time) with another of his front dropkicks, complete with the kip-up...


But as I’m falling back to the mat, I notice he’s still limping... Ginger on that ankle I had before...




Suddenly it dawns on me what I really needed to do to take this guy out. Something I remembered seeing in tapes. But I have to do it decisively and quick, or Coyote would be in the way once again.


Of course, being flat on my back and having Zyon hovering over me was all part of the plan.




He hauls me to my feet, then slings me into the ropes... I rebound, and he tries to grab me... I recognize what he’s trying to do... Tilt-a-whirl into... Something... Don’t really care... I let him work me into the start of the ‘whirl, then throw my weight away from him with a little twist. His grip is bothered, and he can’t complete the move as I fall out of his grasp...


...Managing to land on my feet, albeit unsteadily. Zyon looks quite surprised at this turn of events, and that’s just what I want. I grab him by the arm, and pull him hard into my free arm, laying him out...




...with a short-arm clothesline. Ignoring the boos and jeers of the crowd, I’m back on him, flipping him over hurriedly... Bending his legs at the knees, crossing them, my foot in the middle... Facing away, standing... I can hear the crowd... They know what’s coming.


I wonder if Zyon does.


I flip back suddenly, locking my arms around his chin, and pull. Hard.


By the pained groans from Zyon and the fans, I’ve done my homework right. I arch myself a little further, working the Youth’s upper body back more, putting that pressure on the neck... But more importantly, the back that I knew was injured...


This move is perfect for this purpose, and I cinch it in a little harder...


But once again...




...Kevin Coyote comes falling out of the sky to ruin my best-laid plans. This time, though, I have no defense in my positioning as he slams into me with a freaking Hurricanrana! The pain that shoots though me is intense, the air rushing out.


But I’m sure Zyon, being under both of us, faired a lot worse. Coyote is slow to get up, but he finally does, and I’m still sucking wind as I roll off Zyon... I’m wondering where the next attack is coming from when...


ONE! The slap of the ref’s hand brings me back to some semblance of reality as I roll back...


TWO!! I see Coyote trying to grab the win, so I reach out and grab him, pulling with all my might...


And it does break the count.


Coyote isn’t happy.


The fans are though.


I try and get to all fours, working towards getting my feet about me, but Coyote has other ideas as he gives me a swift kick to my side.


Well, that ended the getting-up idea.




Apparently satisfied with the beatdown he’s given Fury, Coyote reaches down and drags the hurting Zyon to his feet, and launches him into the corner. The Unique Youth impacts...




...the turnbuckles with massive force, and just sags there. The crowd novas, raining radioactive heat down on Coyote.


“Kevin Coyote taking control!” King croons. “He’s taken Fury out of the picture, and now he’s looking to finish the Spoiled Youth for the title!”


“Unique Youth, King.”


“Shove it, Hardy.” Kevin Coyote, quite pleased with himself, kicks Fury again as he gets up, seemingly waiting for something... He kicks Fury, then eyes the corner where Zyon is... Kicks Fury, looks in the corner... Kicks Fury, then...


Zyon is moving... The fans explode with delight.


Coyote grins. Apparently the opportunity he was waiting for is at hand as Zyon stumbles slowly from the corner... Coyote stalks him, keeping clear of the Youth’s view... Then...


Coyote taps him on the shoulder.


The crowd is none-too-thrilled.


“Here it comes!” King cries. Zyon stops, and starts to turn... But Coyote helps him the rest of the way, following up with a completely explosive clothesline!




Zyon hits the mat like a load of dead parrots as Kevin Coyote styles for the booing, hissing fans.


“Coyote Takedown!” King gushes. “This one is over! OVAH! Ugh...”


“Not quite, King!” The reasoning behind this statement isn’t clear... But the crowd senses... Sees something. Something that brings their reactions around... Coyote seems to read the crowd, and starts to turn to see what is going on...




“HOLY WHAT THE...???” Even the crowd gasps in awed amazement...


Out of nowhere comes a Mack Truck, blowing right into Coyote! But it’s name is not Mack... It’s Chris Fury, and he just went Hell-bent and full-bore into Coyote with a desperation Spear! Coyote flails back...




...hitting the mat extremely hard before tumbling between the bottom and middle ropes to...




...unceremoniously impact the floor below... He finally comes to rest against the steel crowd barricade.


“UNBELIEVABLE!” screams Hardy. “Fury from out of NOWHERE with that Spear, but Fury took one Hell of a shock it seems!”


“Nooooo!” laments King. Kevin Coyote lies motionless on the outside of the ring, completely out of commission from his meeting with the floor. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Fury still hasn’t gotten up from a completely massive impact... The Spear seems to have done as much damage to him as it did to Coyote. Suddenly, the crowd goes all Mount Saint Helens.


“All he needed was time, King!”


“NOOOOO!” King’s reason for panic is clear: Zyon is finally standing! He looks absolutely groggy from the Coyote Takedown he suffered moments earlier, but he’s standing!


“He should’ve been done... Or dead... Or both!” King cries in anguish. But the Unique Yoth is none of those... That’s why he’s Unique. And he’s on the offensive... He hauls Fury up by the hair, getting him standing... Then pauses as the fans chant and cheer his name...


“What’s he doing?” Hardy muses.


“Continuing to be a fool!” Sensing the finish at hand, and maybe without full mental facilities in place, Zyon puts a plan in motion... He quickly springboards onto the ropes, facing the crowd, and twists through the air like... Something... Really graceful...


“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” Hardy calls to the home crowd... Zyon, determined to keep his title reign alive, and to give the fans the best he’s got, is trying to hit the Blitzkrieg Spike... But there’s just one very small, yet very potent problem...


And the fans deflate before it even happens, because they see it... Fury, somehow with some sort of wits about him, throws a hard, stiff forearm into the flyer’s mid-section. It’s not too terribly effective against a falling human being, but it’s just enough to screw the Unique Youth’s momentum and trajectory. Zyon plows uncontrolled into Fury, sending both men...




...hard to the mat.


“MY GOD!” Hardy belts out. “A simple but devastating defense from Fury spoils the Youth’s flight into victory!”


“Ha HAH!” King gloats, somewhat. “Risk takers never win!” Both men are stunned and not doing much besides rolling faintly in their spots... Meanwhile, the crowd sees something that drops their enthusiasm by several notches.


“And all that was needed was time!” King mercilessly mimics Hardy as...


Kevin Coyote is finally rising to his feet outside. He looks completely out of sorts, but somehow slowly works his way under the ropes.


“This could be horridly bad for Zyon and Fury,” Hardy says in a hushed tone.


“No no no,” King says with an audible grin. “This is PERFECT. The road is clear for Kevin!” Coyote slowly stand against the ring ropes, and sees both men down. He could so easily pin one of them. So easily.


But he wants more than that... He wants to deal with the reason he’s so groggily wandering around, when he should be standing tall and proud.


And that reason is now at his feet.




He hauls Fury to his feet, wrenching his arm around, getting him to his right side...


He’s looking for the big finish here...


“Go, Coyote, go!” King calls out as Kevin’s only fan in the place as he lets go of Fury’s arm, and lances back with his arms to lock around Fury’s head to start the flashy and powerful RKO...


But Fury’s not there... At least his head’s not. Instead, Coyote find his arm grabs, and his world spinning... Only half-spun though as Fury stops him with a kick to the solar plexus. Coyote finds himself doubled over and at the mercy of Fury as he’s wrapped in a fancy-looking headlock, Coyote’s chin precariously over Fury’s shoulder... Fury drops to a knee, rocking Coyote’s head as his jaw impacts hard, unforgiving shoulder... But the fun’s not over as the headlock’s still cinched... Fury stands, then takes two quick steps to the side before sitting out...




...and completely knocking reality loose from Coyote as his head re-impacts Fury’s shoulder, and he drops back limply to the mat.


“HOLY SHIT!” Hardy blurts. “The Lightning And Thunder has returned, in a new and devastating form!”


“Damnit no!” King shouts right after. The crowd...


The crowd is going wild... To see Coyote go down like a house of bricks pleases them to no end... But there’s something else...


Zyon... He’s starting to come back to earth... Fury sees this, the adrenaline finally flowing... He hauls the Unique Youth up...


And doubles him over with a lick to the mid-section! The fans go completely 180.


“Fury’s going to get this!” Hardy rails over the crowd, his emotions tossed... Fury plants Zyon with the mini-Stunner, then the two quick steps, and the sit-out Stunner...




...and Zyon’s momentum is evaporated... The crowd is livid and screaming for their boy to make a comeback as Fury hooks the leg...




The fans raise in volume, trying to will their boy on...




The fans come out of their seats, pleading to the wrestling deities to bring them a miracle! The ref’s hand swings down one more time...












Ladies and gentlemen, your Gods have abandoned you.


Ding ding DING!


Funyon gets on his mic as the ref retrieves the belt... Handing it to Fury.


“Ladies and gentlemen... The winner of the match... And... NEWWWWW... Cruiserweight Champion... He is... Christian... FUUUUU-RYYYYY!!!” The crowd rains Hell down upon the new strap-holder after abusing their man, but Fury pays it no mind... He holds the belt up high, a smile on his weary lips.


“No!” King shouts. “He stole it from Coyote! He’s nowhere in the same league as Kevin!”


“No, King,” Hardy says with the barest hint of respect. “Fury did what he needed to. And he proved something in the process. We’ll be back, folks.”


The show fades to commercial with the camera square on Fury’s victorious smile...

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Guest Ghost Machine

Doubletagged due to laziness. Didn't get all the spots I wanted to in, unfortunately. I also didn't sell Bruce's knee brace, mostly due to a clerical error on my part, although the match was built around the leg. Again, just a buzz from me - I knew it, I just didn't carry it over. Sadly, that's not the only angle I didn't sell, but honestly, I didn't know about the masked man with the cattle prod that played so prominently in Bruce's finish.








Some weird robot song starts to play as the SWF’s telecast returns from its commercial, and the crowd begins cheering loudly as Ghost Machine makes his way to the ring! Chris Belcourt pushes the velvet curtain aside and walks through, pulling Ghost Machine on a handtruck. The crowd cheers as the robot – or is he really a person? – is pushed to the ring, and Funyon makes his announcement.


“Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall, and it is to be conducted under HARDCORE RULES! The winner will be declared S. W. F. ULTRAVIOLENT CHAMPION!” The crowd begins cheering. “The challenger… hailing from parts unknown, and weighing in at 231 pounds… GHOST MACHINE version TWO. POINT. ZERO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


Ghost Machine climbs up into the ring and throws his arms into the air. The crowd cheers for Ghost Machine’s schtick:




Ghost Machine imitates them:




Meanwhile, the music fades out, and Funyon begins his announcement.


“And his opponent, the longest reigning and defending SWF Ultraviolent champion. Coming in with a series victory over Akira Kaibatsu, this is the self proclaimed “King of Pain” - BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!!”


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

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




After a moment or two of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s playing the crowd’s attention is drawn to the side of the entrance set up as they watch Bruce Blank walk down the ramp to the ring.


"Well, I appreciate your feelings and I don’t want to pass you by

But I don’t ask you about your business, don’t ask me about mine"




Bruce doesn’t seem to even notice the chants from the crowd as he struts to the ring, the belt over his shoulder. Meanwhile, Ronald “Red” Herrington waits in the center of the ring. When Blank gets to the mat, he hands the title over to Herrington, who holds it in the air before calling for the bell.






“And this one is underway,” says Ben Hardy, as Ghost Machine and Bruce Blank square off in the center of the ring. “You can really see the size differential when they’re lined up like that – Bruce Blank has fully sixty-five pounds over Ghost Machine!”




Hardy sighs. “Two point oh.”


“That’s better.”


Ghost Machine lunges into him, locking him up with a collar-elbow tie. Blank takes control, using his significant strength advantage to clamp down on Ghost’s arms and whip him to the rope. As Ghost Machine rebounds, Blank catches him with a hamhock-like clothesline that takes him off his feet! Ghost lands on the mat with a THUD, and Blank takes the boots to him with a stiff kick to the ribs! He throws his arms into the air, only to have the crowd boo him loudly.




The crowd’s chant clearly gets to Bruce, but he turns his attention back to the grounded Ghost Machine.


“Bruce Blank is taking the early lead,” Hardy says. “Ghost Machine has shown dominance in his first few matches, but can he hold up against a man whose stated mission is to destroy cruiserweights?”


King rolls his eyes. “Ben, you haven’t been paying attention. Ghost Machine 2.0 isn’t a cruiserweight. He’s a full pound over the limit.”


Blank reaches down, grabbing Ghost Machine by the arm and lifting him to his feet. The Machine tries to resist, but is unable to due to Blank’s strength. Without even breaking a sweat, Blank pulls Ghost Machine into a front facelock and begins battering him with forearms to the back! He continues hammering Ghost Machine with forearms, over and over, until finally Ghost Machine drops to one knee! Blank looks down at him, smirking as he watches yet another cruiserweight turn up his toes in the face of a Blank slaughtering.


What he isn’t expecting, though, is a lightning-fast low single-leg takedown! Ghost Machine shoots forward, snagging Blank by the ankle and catching him off-guard, sending him back just enough to pick his leg out from under him! Blank slips off his feet and onto his behind, and Ghost Machine pulls back and yanks the left leg into the air. He takes a step back and quickly kicks Blank’s hamstring, causing the Trailerpark Messiah to cringe in pain. He tries to kick his meaty leg back away from Ghost Machine, but the man-or-astroman keeps the ankle and boots Blank in the hamstring once again! Rather than push his luck, though, Ghost Machine pulls away and moves to the center of the ring.


“Ghost Machine is showing superb ability to integrate technical material,” Suicide King says. “Did you see how quick that single-leg was?”


“Yes,” Hardy murmurs. “Almost reminds me of someone else.”


“Don’t be silly,” King replies. “Of course it reminded you of someone else. He’s programmed to imitate what he sees. What are you, simple?”


As Blank starts to get back to his feet, Ghost Machine circles around him. He drops down and shoots for another low single, but this time Blank steps back and drops a fist straight down onto the back of the Machine’s neck. Ghost Machine flattens out, and Blank grabs him by the head, lifting him into a front facelock once again. He ducks his head under Ghost Machine’s left arm and arches back, sending Ghost to the mat with a vertical suplex! Instead of going for the pin, however, he leaves Ghost Machine in the center of the ring and rolls to the outside, to the cheers of the more sadistic members of the audience.


“Uh oh,” Hardy says. “The Ultraviolent Champion’s going for broke! It’s like he’s insulted that Ghost Machine would challenge for the title, even knowing about the defect in his programming.”


“It’s not a bug,” King says. “It’s a feature.”


Blank lifts the apron of the ring and begins rummaging through the plunder underneath. His eyes aglow, he pulls out a Singapore cane, tossing it onto the concrete floor. He reaches under the mat once again, a hockey stick, a cricket bat, and, for no apparent reason, a copy of the Uniform Commercial Code, as published by Foundation Press.


“Good LORD,” Hardy gasps.


“I know! That thing must be over 1600 pages!”


Ghost Machine begins to stir as Blank grabs the hockey, his eyes glimmering, and slides into the ring.


“I didn’t know Portland had a hockey team,” King says.


“It’s actually a little-known fact that the Portland Winter Hawks play right here in the city,” Hardy says. “Though I doubt it’s here at the Rose Garden. I wonder how the stick got placed at ringside.”


As Blank gets to his feet, Ghost Machine does the same. Blank starts toward him, but Ghost reaches out and grabs onto the hockey stick just outside Blank’s grip. He pauses, running his head from side to side and examining the stick.




With that, Ghost Machine kicks Blank swiftly in the groin, stunning him for just long enough to pull the hockey stick away from him! Blank, staggered, drops to his knees and curls up, trying to protect his tender gonads. Ghost Machine, however, pivots and hands the hockey stick to the befuddled Ronald “Red” Herrington.


“He doesn’t recognize the weapon!” says King. “That’s the problem! He understands that there are no rules against low blows, but he didn’t recognize that weapons are legal!”


“That’s no excuse for that kind of attack,” Hardy says, clearly squirming with discomfort. “I hope that Blank’s testes weren’t permanently damaged.”


Herrington drops the hockey stick over the top rope as Ghost Machine jumps a few feet into the air and throws a very slow, very sloppy dropkick at Blank’s temple. As he connects with Blank’s head, the White Trash Warrior collapses to the mat, his face still a mask of agony from the stiff blow to his crotch. Ghost Machine rolls him to his back and makes a cover. Herrington counts






TW- NO! Even through the searing pain, Blank is able to kick out of the pin attempt and roll to the side! He stretches out, trying to ignore the pain even as Ghost Machine drops down onto his left knee with a quick knee-drop. He then reaches into Blank’s right hip pocket.


“What the hell is he doing?” Hardy asks. “That’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen.”


“Well, clearly he’s trying to understand how the human body is put together,” King says. “He’s curious because he’s never seen someone as big as Blank.”


As he fishes around Blank’s pocket, Ghost Machine lights up and withdraws his arm. He stands up, handing a pair of brass knuckles to Red Herrington! Harrington shrugs and drops the knucks into his pocket as Ghost Machine stands up and then drops back down again, throwing another rock-solid kneedrop into the pit of Blank’s knee.


“Ghost Machine really finds these weapons confounding,” Hardy says. “He’s simply trying to get rid of as many of them as possible!”


Ghost Machine snags the leg once again, grounding the much stronger Blank and slamming an elbow into the pit of his knee. He scoots around Blank’s body and, looking for a neutralization move, slaps on a front headlock!


“And here we are,” says Suicide King. “Once again, Ghost Machine version 2.0 has figured out a strategy by which he can neutralize everything Bruce Blank has over him. It’s a well-known fact that Blank has trouble with mat wrestlers, and so Ghost Machine is going for a mat-oriented approach that will fatigue the King of Pain. I can’t say it’s something I’d want to do, but if Ghost Machine’s got the chops for it, more power to him.”


“I’m not sure it’s the smartest course of action,” Hardy says, “considering that Blank is so incredibly strong.”


“Oh, come on. Are you going to argue with Ghost Machine’s OS?”


Ghost Machine drops back and slams a cocked knee to Blank’s head, stunning him for a moment. He throws another super-stiff knee strike to Blank’s cranium before coming to his knees and threading his right arm under Blank’s left. He waits for the slightly dazed Ultraviolent Champion to get to his knees before cocking his hips, trying for a Cement Job!


“Good lord!” Hardy exclaims. “Where have we seen that maneuver before, King? I ask you, WHERE?!”


“Like I said,” King says smoothly, “programmed to imitate what he’s seen, and Ben, Tom Flesher was the best we’ve ever had. How could BennerCorp NOT feed Flesher’s videos into Ghost Machine’s visual apparatus? They tried earlier, but with Ghost Machine version one failing so miserably, they had to go for broke.”


As he starts his hip flip, though, Ghost Machine is stopped in his tracks by Blank’s meaty arms! Blank stands up, with Ghost Machine trying to hug the mat but failing miserably. Close to the ropes, Blank holds the Machine over his shoulder, using his insistent front headlock as a way to keep him stable as he leans over the top rope. With a reckless disregard for Ghost Machine’s safety, the Champion dumps him over the top rope, letting him fall the ten feet to the floor with absolutely no protection! Ghost Machine hits the concrete with a SPLAT!


Blank follows his adversary to the outside like a shark smelling blood in the water. He walks to the fallen challenger’s body and pauses, looking down at him and considering all of the sadistic things he could do. Instead of doing them right at the moment, however, he looks past his foe and sees, once again, a pile of foreign objects on the outside.


“He’s still got that Singapore cane,” says Ben Hardy, “that cricket bat, and… for whatever reason, that copy of the Uniform Commercial Code.”


“You’re telling me that’s not dangerous?” asks King. “Go ahead, ask anyone who’s ever been sued for breach of contract.”


Blank reaches down, grabbing the Singapore cane and turning around. Ghost Machine lays on the floor, oblivious to what’s going on around him. Blank walks back over to him, relaxed, and cocks the Singapore cane above his head. Ghost Machine looks up, and as he does, Bruce slams the cane down, smashing it on Ghost Machine’s head! Ghost Machine convulses, falling back to the concrete floor! Blank, though, sees that as no reason to stop the beating, and so he continues lashing the robot – or is he? – with the Singapore cane! Ghost Machine curls up, trying to protect himself, but Blank sadistically continues beating him across the back! Finally, Ghost Machine pushes up to his hands and knees, but Blank doesn’t stop. He takes a step back, watching Ghost Machine.


“He’s measuring him up,” say Hardy.


Finally, as Ghost looks over to him, Blank swings the cane down with all his might, cracking it over the masked robot’s head! The cane splits into two parts as Ghost Machine falls to the concrete floor in a heap! Blank grabs him and rolls him to his back, covering him as Red Herrington slides out to make the count.













NO!!!!!! Ghost Machine gets a shoulder up, which merely serves to anger Bruce Blank even further. Blank squints, staring at Ghost Machine’s battered chassis. He reaches down, grabbing his foe’s spandex bodysuit and yanking him to his feet. As Ghost Machine wobbles, Blank grabs his arm and executes a picture-perfect Irish whip. Ghost Machine hurtles forward, stopping only when he slams into the steel ringpost! He staggers backwards, finally falling onto his back. Bruce, waiting for him, drops down onto him with a fistdrop, and makes another cover! Red Herrington counts











THR- NO! Once again, Ghost Machine kicks out, though with less time to spare than before.


“This is a challenge unlike anything Ghost Machine has seen before in his tenure with the SWF,” Hardy says. “He’s defeated Ced Ordonez, Max King and the Crimson Skull, but he’s never faced off against someone as devastatingly violent as Bruce Blank! How can he survive?”


“Well, there’s always his habit of rebooting at inconvenient times,” King replies.


Ghost Machine reaches up to the apron, trying to pull himself to his feet. Blank picks him up, spinning him around into spinebuster position. Even as Ghost Machine flails, the King of Ultraviolence tightens his grip around his waist and turns toward the steel post once again. He charges at the ringpost, hammering the challenger’s spine into the steel! Ghost Machine makes a loud grinding noise as his hard drive hits the steel.




Blanks backs away, then slams him into the post again! Ghost Machine’s speakers play an MP3 file imitating the sounds of human suffering, as he’s been programmed to.




Still, once more, Blank backs up. He crouches down, measuring up the distance between himself and the ringpost, and then charges up to full speed before finally slamming into the post one more time! He releases Ghost Machine, who falls down into a heap and makes the gurgling sound of an inadequately maintained cooling system.


“It doesn’t look like Ghost Machine’s doing very well,” says Hardy. “He’s taking quite a licking, and I’m not entirely certain he’s going to keep on ticking for now.”


Blank stands over the stunned Ghost Machine, smirking at his handiwork. He holds still for a bit, admiring his accomplishments. However…




Once again, Blank drops to his knees, prompting a cheer of appreciation from the crowd!


“For God’s sake!” winces Ben Hardy. “How many times is Ghost Machine going to go back to that particular well? It hurts just to watch this match!”


Ghost Machine, his ventilation system being taxed, gets to his feet. He turns around, ignoring Blank and going to the weapons. He takes the cricket bat, examines it, and slides it back into the ring, pointing at it while Red Harrington merely shrugs. Before he can figure out what to do with the Uniform Commercial Code, however, he hears Blank coming to his senses. Ghost Machine moves toward him, watching his hobbled movement, and immediately zeroes in on the injured left knee! He angles toward Blank and hits him with a stiff kick to the knee! He backs away and throws a kick that hammers the Champion in the quad, and then goes back to the knee! Ghost Machine backs away as Blank falls to one knee, in obvious pain. Still, he goes back, throwing a quick running boot… that Blank avoids by snaking his head down! As Ghost Machine’s internal balance unit attempts to recalibrate, Blank takes advantage of his momentary disorientation by reaching up and hammering Ghost Machine in the battery pack located between his lower appendages!


“And Bruce Blank gives Ghost Machine a taste of his own medicine!” shouts Ben Hardy. “He’s hit Bruce Blank twice, and now Blank hammers him in the testicles!”


“That’s a battery pack, Hardy. Get it right!”


Ghost Machine’s OS, simply overwhelmed, tries to react.


“DOES… NOT…. Oh, god fucking dammit, does that hurt,” he says, giving an error message that had not previously appeared. Blank smiles sadistically as he gets back up to his feet, and Ghost Machine makes another operational error message. “Jesus Christ, is that painful.”


“Uh,” King sputters, “that’s a product of the newer, more user-friendly OS.”


Hardy merely smirks.


Blank grabs Ghost Machine by the mask and pulls him to his feet, walking him up toward the ramp. He lifts the Machine over his head, pressing him high into the air with a gorilla press, and then chucks him head-over-heels up the ramp with a slam! He looks around, but unable to find a weapon, he realizes that he can’t take too much time lest Ghost Machine hit him with another brilliant counter. He reaches down, grabbing Ghost Machine by the waist and hoisting him up in a gutwrench position. Without the technical expertise to execute a perfect gutwrench suplex, Blank merely throws him down with a stiff power bomb! Ghost Machine hits the concrete, rolling through with the momentum of the hardcore maneuver. He bounds off the concrete, staggering toward Blank but clearly hurting from the power bomb. However, before he falls to the ground, he lunges at Blank and hammers him with a lariat that takes him to the concrete as well! Both men hit the floor, and for a moment, it looks as if the match can’t continue.


“Ghost Machine hits a desperation counter,” says Hardy, “but even now it looks as if Bruce Blank is going to make it to his feet first.”


True to Hardy’s words, Bruce pulls himself up to his feet while Ghost Machine is still floundering on the concrete. Blank reaches down, pulling the stunned Machine to his feet and simply wrapping his meaty hands around Ghost Machine’s monitor cord! As he chokes Ghost Machine, the robot flails… finally making contact with Bruce’s quad! That causes Bruce to momentary loosen the chokehold, and so Ghost Machine goes for broke, sending a flurry of quick kicks at Bruce Blank’s left knee! He hammers the leg, and with each kick, Blank releases the choke even more! Finally, with a flourish, Ghost Machine nearly kicks Blank’s knee inside out, freeing himself of the choke! He realizes that he can’t go toe-to-toe with Blank, and so he sprints away as Blank hobbles after him.


“Ghost Machine isn’t going to win this one unless he can ground Bruce Blank,” Ben Hardy says. “This is just going to be a battle of wills!”


Ghost Machine, meanwhile, continues running, finally getting to the only foreign object left outside the ring: the Uniform Commercial Code. He picks it up, examining it for a few seconds as Blank hobbles toward him. Finally, in a moment of desperation, he throws the UCC at Blank, hoping to distract him. Blank catches the book and takes a moment to examine it. He looks at the cover, not quite sure what to make of it… and then






Ghost Machine charges at him with a big boot, slamming the book into his face! Stunned, Blank falls to the concrete after the modified Van Daminator! Instead of going for the pin, though, Ghost Machine grabs Blank’s legs. Adeptly, he crosses them, threading his arms through them and hooking them into a painful position, then stepping over Blank’s body! He sits back, and even as Blank finally drops the UCC, he begins crying out in pain!


“That’s a Texas Cloverleaf, King!” shills Ben Hardy. “It’s a Texas Cloverleaf, better known in the SWF as a Superior Stretch!”


“What can I say?” asks King, shrugging. “The robot knows what to imitate.”


Ghost Machine leans back, trying to keep the hold on for as long as he possibly can. He can feel Bruce writhing beneath him.


“He knows that Blank’s arms are too meaty to work,” King says, “but that his legs aren’t his strongest area. From there, it wasn’t hard to pick a plan of attack.”


Even as Blank tries to escape, Ghost Machine leans back, tightening the painful submission hold and pulling his legs even further out of joint! He fights, and Blank tries desperately to kick out of the hold. He flails his arms, and tries to kick his legs! He screams out in pain, which Ghost Machine imitates by shouting, “DAMN IT.” Even so, the android pulls back even farther. Finally…















Ghost Machine stands up, letting Blank’s legs fall to the concrete and throwing his mechanized arms into the air! Red Herrington raises his arms as well, and grabs the SWF Ultraviolent Championship belt. He hands it to Ghost Machine, who raises it aloft.


“YOUR WINNER,” announces Funyon, “and NEW SWF Ultraviolent Champion… GHOST MACHINE TWO POINT OH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


Celebrating, Ghost Machine begins to dance the robot as the dejected Bruce Blank slithers away.


“What a match!” gushes Suicide King. “While Bruce Blank was strong, Ghost Machine’s mechanized chassis won the battle of durability. Where the flesh was weak, the steel was strong!”


“Also,” says Hardy sarcastically, “there was the matter of Ghost Machine’s brilliant counters.”


“Don’t knock it,” King reminds him. “After all, those maneuvers are completely legal and even authorized.”


“You mean kicking your opponent in the crotch.”


“Yes indeed.”


Ghost Machine continues dancing. The fans cheer, and he responds in kind as the show begins to fade to commercial.









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honestly, I didn't know about the masked man with the cattle prod that played so prominently in Bruce's finish.
that's cause I didn't tell ya - if I had lost then the guy in the dragon suit would have played no part in the loss at all but left it cleanly in your robotic hands


I didn't want to cheapen your win that way, but I have no problem with me getting a "cheap" win, it's what Bruce does.

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I think Ghost Machine 2.0's point was that an 'angle' finish is likely to take precedence over a run-of-the-mill finish, possibly giving your match an advantage in the eyes of the marker. For example, a match where someone that one of the workers is feuding with runs in and does something might seem more appealing continuity-wise than one where nothing of the sort happens.

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I think Ghost Machine 2.0's point was that an 'angle' finish is likely to take precedence over a run-of-the-mill finish, possibly giving your match an advantage in the eyes of the marker. For example, a match where someone that one of the workers is feuding with runs in and does something might seem more appealing continuity-wise than one where nothing of the sort happens.
Ah but was the dragon guy someone one of them was feuding with? nope not in the least


and based on comments in the Lockdown threat the "Out of the blue" nature of the attack didn't exactly aid in the flow of the match either so on the whole I don't think that is what clinched the match for me.

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also on the "run-of-the-mill finish" regard


There is no way I would have turned in a Title defense with a run-of-the-mill finish - that just wouldn't win me matches. if it wasn't the use of the surprise attack then it would have been something else that'd have been BIG to put a guy of GM's caliber away.


Either way it would be something beyond a run-of-the-mill finish and either way it would have counted for me.


so honestly I just don't see the problem here, sorry if someone is upset that I work an angle into my match, sorry if I wanted to use the masked guy in a positive way or not at all - but is it really that big a deal?

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Yes, because you didn't tell GM about it.


I remember back in the IGNWF, I had a plan for Prime Evil to abduct me in the middle of a parking-lot brawl for the Hardcore Gamers title. I could have kept it from Grimedogg, and probably won with it, but I let him know before hand.


I'm of the mind that anything important should be told to the opponent, either an injury to put your own wrestler away for a while, or a turn, or whatever.


The SWF needs Rules of Discovery.

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Always tell your opponent about any sort of angle or surprise. I mean, I could have Rommel come out and run Magnifico over in a tank, and then dance the Charleston on his chest while waving the Canadian flag because I wanted a non-run-of-the-mill finish, but I'd definitely let Mags know if I planned on using Rommel in any sort of way.

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Guest The Satanic Angel

It's the principle of the matter.


If you're going to do an off-the-wall finish that would affect the future of your character (be it a run in from a fan, or an injury), tell your opponent so they can incorporate it into their match. If you feel that whatever you do isn't of import, but you feel you could run with it, at least tell your marker, "Hey, this isn't important to the finish of the match. Don't grade my opponent negatively because he won't have it in his match."


Don't argue. ;-)

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Jesh you’d think I drew a cartoon of Muhammad or something.


The introduction of the guy in the mask would ONLY work if he was actually successful in what he did. I have a specific purpose for the guy and I’d like to actually be able to control how my own side character is introduced just like all of you.


But apparently that’s a bad thing.


I specifically wanted it to be in my version only because if GM had written him in 1 of 2 things would have happened


1) GM would have fought both Bruce and that dude off and won – making the other guy look like a total pussy for not even being able to make a difference in the match. Making him look weak and ineffectual which is totally counterproductive for the angle he’s going to be used in.


2) His attack would have backfired and cost Bruce the match – immediately building some sort of inter-personal tension between them as the guy was part of what ended Bruce’s record reign. Again that’s counter productive to what the guy will be used for.


But I’m made out to be the bad guy for not wanting to screw over an angle in progress in case I lost a match that has no build up at all. If I was turning face he would have known it cause I would have told him of course. I'm sorry if it's a problem that I want to have a say in how a character that’s important to my direction in the fed is introduced.


If I was faking a knee injury and only wore the kneebrace to use it as a weapon I would have told him – which I did, I was 110% up front about that he had the PM on that before the match was even announced.


I'm sitting here and I'm damn proud of the win I got, yet all I hear are complaints about the ending instead of hardly acknowledging the ENTIRE 4500+ word match BEFORE IT at all like that played no part in the win at all. And I’m sorry if I sound like a bitch here, but a “Run-of-the-mill” ending to a title match is just lame! Especially one that’d end the longest Hardcore title reign – I went into this expecting GM to NOT go with a “run-of-the-mill” ending cause that’s really what the situation called for.


As for the “don’t argue” – I AM going to argue (Well debate it - no bitching and moaning) this cause I’m being made out to be some sort of scheming asshole who intentionally kept something from GM because I figured it’d screw him over. If that’s what people think of me then they don’t know the first thing about me.

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Always tell your opponent about any sort of angle or surprise. I mean, I could have Rommel come out and run Magnifico over in a tank, and then dance the Charleston on his chest while waving the Canadian flag because I wanted a non-run-of-the-mill finish, but I'd definitely let Mags know if I planned on using Rommel in any sort of way.
Woops missed this on the first read through.


Just how far do you go in the quest to be sure the opponent knows it won’t be a “run-of-the-mill” finish? Should I have informed Akira bout my idea to have Ced in a blast suit, be all scared of the explosions and then use him to take some of the blast for Bruce? It’s a major part of my match write up, it could be a difference maker between the two matches and those touches could have added to me winning the match. Should I have informed Akira about my intentions for that match? It was an angle for the match, it was a surprise for the match.


Should I have informed others I’ve faced off that I plan on doing something a little less “common” for a finish since it’d be a surprise? Should I have told Jimmy/Akira/Skull that I planned on taking our 4 way Hardcore match to the roof of the building? I mean that’s a finish that would make the “run-of-the-mill” finish look inferior? (which was a complaint about my latest match)


How about the Hide & Seek match at the Hockeytown café: Should I have informed Landon of how I intended to finish that match with the Title encased in ice, Bruce setting the bar on fire and then breaking the title out of the ice while striking Landon over the head with the flame encased belt? That’d qualify as a surprise and not something anyone would expect.


So if we faced off and it would make sense to have Zombie Rommel and his Panzer army run me over I wouldn’t complain for a moment that you thought of it and I didn’t.


Just how far should I go? Just how much of my own creativity should I share with my opponent to make it “fair” on them?

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No one's really having a go at you dude, or saying you wouldn't have won, it's just that it's a little unfair and we're letting you know.

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alright alright maybe I'm a bit touchy (and it's not even my time of the month... I think) sorry if I went a bit overboard.


What I'm saying is - that I needed the masked man to make a strong showing in his first surprise apperance, which as I explained above would exclude him from a match where I'd lose. And since it was important to the character that he wasn't there in a losing match I didn't see the point in telling GM that he shouldn't use a surprise guy that he didn't know about... erm... yeah that made sense right?


Had I lost the I would have written a promo for next week where he would have show and that would have been fine with me too because that's the nature of the game. In fact that was my original plan but I felt GM was a such a strong opponent that the screwey finish to the match wouldn't halter his momentum significantly.

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If you had to have yourself win, a random jobber would suffice (not ideal, but it would suffice). I know what you're saying, but this could easily be the other way around if GM didn't tell you about an important detail.

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what I was going for was the masked guy to be effective in his debut - helping me lose just wouldn't cut it.


It's not that I HAD to win that match, if that was the case then yeah I would have requested a jobber match. Had I lost I would have found a different "non-match" way of debuting the mystery guy at the next show instead to keep him looking effective and no one would have even thought twice about it. That was my backup plan in case I lost which quite frankly was very probably going in.


And yes it could have been the other way around where GM had something that'd only work the way he intended if he had won - that's how it goes and I'd be fine with it. If he added something that would only really make sense after a win then it'd be pointless to even try and work it into a loss.


I stood there and said to myself "What if I lose" and how that would affect the angle with IL - then I said "what if I won" and how that would affect the angle with IL. Each outcome would have made a difference to the development of the angle - I considered both of them and then actually made the aditon to the "what if I win" scenario to have this match help nudge the angle forward a bit.


The loss already had a built in "angle advancement" because of the change it would have meant to Bruce

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Oh and in general if I have ideas or stuff that I'd like included win or lose I have and I will continue to inform my opponent(s) of it and ask them nicely if they'll add it to their match write up too.


This is just a case of "it wouldn't have worked if I lost"

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If you were fine with introducing this angle in a non-match, you probably should have done that first. From the way I've read your posts, it seems like you wanted to spice up your ending by introducing this angle, while Ghost Machine didn't have the chance too. If he had known about it, he may have written his match differently, and perhaps even won.


It's be nice to win all the time and have all our angles go the way we want them too, but that's not always possible. How this situation, and situations like this aren't fair for your opponent is that one match misses an important detail, like a storyline detail, and that may be the thing their match is missing. Things have gone down like this before, where matches have lost because they didn't touch on an important detail, and the story around it was neglected.


Anyway, I have to go to work.

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Well of course we would all like to win all the time (it'd be nice but losing happens it's part of the game especially in an ultracompetitive federation)


This is probably the vibe in the previous posts that set me off the most - that I supposedly did this and kept it to myself as an underhanded way of forcing my way to a win or anything like that. Don't mistake the in character boastings for why I play this game, I see no point in a cheap win and get absolutely no satisfaction by winning by "no show" either - I play it fair or I don't bother at all.


No Angles don't always go down the way we want them to, but there should usually be some sort of control from the people involved - I exersized that control in this case and yes I would have been fine introducing him in a non-match angle had I lost also because the loss would be a factor in the furthering of the angle and several adjustments would have to be made anyways.


I added him because it made sense on a larger scale if Bruce won - I saw the big picture with the IL feud and all and it made sense if he was there to help Bruce win. It was not to spice up the match itself against a good opponent - I could have thought of ways to do that which would involve just Bruce and GM. it's all about "Sense not spice"


It almost ended up doing the opposite thing and killed the momentum in the match, cause as some have commented the ending was a bit "out of the blue" and that's rarely a good thing.


But seeing just how much attention something like this gets any surprise "apperances" and whatnot will be announced ahead of time to my opponent - even if it's something that person shouldn't even include in their match write up.


So that we can all get away from this kind of back and forth and get back to playing the game.

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So about this losing matches thread... (Smirk)


I could use some commentary on how my match looked.


And I'm sure that GM and I aren't the only ones that lost here... Anyone else got any morsels they'd like to share?


And everyone else.





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