Toxxic 0 Report post Posted April 8, 2006 Well, here we go (with the Edwin commentary that Raynor liked so much). I was having real motivation issues and then blitzed out 4ks, then looked at the card and realised it was a 1000 words short. So I had the option of staying up another hour to finish, or chancing that it'd win. I took the chance, it didn't pay off. Congratulations, Zyon! ----------------------------------------- “It’s Friday! It’s Storm! It’s hotter than a midsummer holiday in hell, and more exciting than…” Edwin MacPhisto pauses, struggles for a simile, then weakly finishes with “…a very exciting thing! But don’t just take my word for it, oh no,” the Mac Daddy rallies with a flashing smile, “let’s hear from our audience!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The cameras sweep around the arena, taking in the heaving, sweating mass of bodies than constitutes a normal SWF crowd. Signs ranging from ‘SPIKE IS EMO!’ to ‘CROSS + CROSS + FURY = TEAM ANGER EXTREME!’ and even ‘AMY GETS HARDCORE ON TV!’ are being waved with improbable enthusiasm as the shot pans around. It finishes up at the announce table where Edwin sits with a very sulky-looking Suicide King. “I’m telling you, I’m considering handing in my notice,” King gripes, “Annie and CIA were bad enough, I thought things were getting better with Mak… but now I have to sit here all night and listen to your inane babblings?” “Brian, you’re going to hurt my feelings,” Edwin chides him, passing him a piece of paper, “look, I’m handing in my notice!” King unfolds said piece of paper to find it reads ‘SUICIDE KING AMZ TEH L00ZER!’, crumples it up and throws it at his commentary partner’s head. Just as he does so the Smarktron darkens… ‘I’M BORN’ ‘I’M ALIVE’ ‘I BREATHE’ … and ‘Vitamin’ by Incubus kicks up over the PA system causing the crowd to rise to their feet in response! A few moments later a familiar, rangy youth appears at the top of the ramp and stops. He grins, as usual… but there’s something a little different about it. It seems that just a little of the Unique Youth’s confidence and naivety has been shaken by the betrayal of a man called Spike Jenkins. Mind you, this doesn’t stop him from charging down the entrance ramp a few moments later. “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the following non-title match is scheduled for one fall and will be contested under Hardcore rules!” Funyon booms. “Introducing first, from Elkhart, Indiana; he weighs in tonight at 200lbs… this is the ‘Unique Youth’; ZYYYYYYYYY-ONNNNNNNNN!!” “He was born, he’s alive; I grieve,” King spits, “this kid is a waste of space and oxygen, and his wrestling’s so spotty he should be quarantined.” “My friend, I think it’s clear you have some deep-seated issues,” Edwin says from behind a pair of half-moon spectacles that he’s acquired from somewhere, “don’t hide behind shallow niceties; say what you really feel!” “Naff off Edwin, you demented Limey prick.” This apparently was not what the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache had in mind, but as Zyon leaps into the ring and begins headbanging Incubus fades out and an altogether rawer sound blasts out across the arena; ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ by the Ramones! Seconds later Amy Stephens appears at the top of the entrance ramp with a beer in one hand and a black holdall in the other with the Ultraviolent Title wrapped firmly around her waist. However, around the head of the Ultraviolent Champion is a new adornment - a circle, perhaps a crown, made out of barbed wire and padded on the inside. Before the crowd can fully take this addition in Amy chugs down a few swallows of lager before running down to the ring herself. “Wow,” King says, apparently transfixed, “just look at them go…” *THWACK!* “OWW! What the hell was that for?” He rounds upon Edwin, who whistles innocently and looks at the ceiling whilst trying to conceal a kendo stick behind his back with exceptionally limited success. Meanwhile Amy has slid into the ring and mounted the turnbuckle before raising her beer into the air and leading them in a chorus: “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” As Joey Ramone launches into the verse Amy jumps down, places her beer on the apron and then starts unbuckling the Ultraviolent Title while Funyon raises his microphone again. “And his opponent, from Nottingham, England; she weighs in tonight at 171lbs and is the SWF Ultraviolent Champion; this is the ‘Punk-Rock Princess’… AAAAAA-MMMMMYYYYY… STEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “OK, lechery aside,” King says with a sideways glare at Edwin, “I’m still trying to get the appeal of Amy Stephens. She’s the brother of one of the most egotistical, arrogant assholes in the history of the federation; she drinks; she swears; she’s an ignorant, unskilled brawler and she’s sleeping with Landon Maddix. What in that mixture makes these morons cheer her?” “Perhaps the fact that she deprived a smelly, unwashed lout of his most prized possession on Smarkdown?” Edwin suggests, “after all, seeing Bruce Blank finally lose that title was a happy day for many boys and girls around the world.” “Edwin, I swear you couldn’t ask ‘boys and girls’ to ‘step right up’ these days without leaving yourself open to a lot of uncomfortable questions.” Zyon isn’t content to wait for the bell it seems, and the Unique Youth darts forwards to nail Amy in the back with a front dropkick, then kips up as the Ultraviolent Champion is sent sprawling onto her front with her ‘crown’ skittering away! “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” The warring chants are already starting up as Zyon grabs Amy and pulls her up, then takes her hand and goes to Irish whip her towards the far corner; however, Stephens puts the brakes on and grips Zyon’s hand herself as the Unique Youth is trying to let go, then pulls him into a left hook that floors him out of surprise as much as anything else, before starting to put the boots to him. This wasn’t a development that Zyon was expecting and the startled Indianan is forced to roll under the ropes and out to the arena floor to escape! “Amy Stephens proving that she can take a licking-” Edwin begins, but is cut off by King’s hysterical laughter. “What? What did I say?” “You’re just lucky Annie isn’t here,” King chokes, then corrects himself, “actually, we’re all lucky Annie isn’t here.” He sobers up and coughs. “Sorry. Carry on.” “…and still come back for more!” “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!” “And you call me weird,” Edwin mutters, casting a sidelong look at his commentary partner. In the meantime Amy has gripped the top rope and pulled it as far back as possible, then as Zyon looks round she launches herself into the air! The plancha is sloppy, ill-executed and pretty badly-timed. However, it’s uncharacteristic enough to take Zyon completely by surprise, and 171lbs of Amy Stephens flattens the Unique Youth against the Pyramid’s floor! Once there Amy takes a moment to recover herself, then takes advantage of the fact that she’s more or less on top of her opponent and just starts firing right hands down onto him! *BAM!* *BAM!* *BAM!* *BAM!* *BAM!* “OK, this could get tedious,” King says as Amy shows no signs of ceasing her assault. However, no sooner are the words out of the Gambling Man’s mouth than Amy gets up off Zyon and pumps her arms, encouraging the crowd to get behind her! “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” Zyon is rolling around on the floor holding his head but he isn’t allowed to wallow in self-pity as Amy grabs him, hauls him up and then Irish whips him hard into a nearby guardrail! *CRASH!* The Unique Youth hits back-first which probably doesn’t do his ongoing spinal problem any good, but Amy couldn’t care less and has turned around to root in her black holdall (strangely familiar to the one Toxxic always used to bring along for hardcore matches). A few seconds later she pulls out a black-and-white spherical object that is recognised by oh, ten percent of the crowd? “What’s that?” King asks in bewilderment. “That, my dear Brian, is a soccer ball,” the Englishman Edwin proclaims, “the beautiful game!” “That reminds me, how are Leeds doing this season?” King asks, hoping against hope he’s going to hit a sore nerve. “…shut up.” Zyon has slumped down against the guardrail and is sitting with his legs apart to form a ‘v’ shape that leads nicely (or not, depending on your point of view) up to his crotch. This is however possibly not a good plan as Amy places the soccer ball on the floor, backs up a few steps and then sprints forward to punt it as hard as she can at her opponent’s testicles! *WHUP!!* “OOOOOOOOoooooooohhhhhhhhh…” The male contingent of the crowd wince in sympathy as Zyon’s eyes suddenly bulge and he collapses to one side making vague spasming motions. Meanwhile Amy raises both arms in the air and shouts ‘GOAL!’ at the top of her lungs! “Do you think she bent it like Beckham?” King asks. Regardless of her talent compared to famous English soccer players Amy makes her way over to where Zyon lays and rolls the Unique Youth onto his back, then hooks his leg for a cover. Referee Brian Warner has already vacated the ring in order to keep an eye on proceedings and it doesn’t take him a second to get in a position where he can see Zyon’s shoulders and make the count… ONE! TWO!! …but Zyon kicks out well before three, proving that it’s going to take more than testicular trauma to put him away! Which isn’t necessarily a problem for Amy, who is quite prepared to explore various way to mangle someone’s body. Accordingly she grabs Zyon again and hauls him upright, then Irish whips him towards another guardrail. However, despite being more hurt this time Zyon has absolutely no desire to taste steel again (I know he doesn’t have tastebuds in his back, work with me here) and instead of crashing into the rail he is able to spring up to balance on top of it for a moment, then corkscrew back off to take Amy down with the No Regard! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” “What a counter by Zyon,” Edwin exclaims, “he’s certainly living up to his moniker of the ‘Unique Youth’!” “So he can flip-flop around the ring outside as well as inside it,” King sniffs, “big deal. Hopefully he’ll land on top of Landon’s bint and injure them both, then Bruce Blank can take back the title that’s his by rights.” Zyon takes a second or two to get up from that, still feeling the pain not only in his back but also in his groin. However, after a moment to catch his breath the man from Elkhart manages to get to his feet, but discovers to his consternation that Amy is already stirring. Accordingly Zyon grabs her by the head, places her in a front facelock and throws her arm over his own shoulders before grabbing the waist of her pants and bringing her over with a snap suplex! *WHAM!* “Don’t get fooled by the protective mats folks, they’re thinner than King’s favourite hooker,” Edwin shills like a champ, “you can tell that move hurt Amy Stephens!” “And don’t get fooled by her gut either,” King remarks, “she’s only 170lbs and therefore reasonably easy for Zyon to suplex even with a bad back that’s been rammed into steel once already this match!” With Amy on her back and writhing around Zyon feels like Landon Maddix for a moment, but given that Stephens is hurt rather than… anything else… he quickly shakes the feeling off and looks for another way to take the fight to the Ultraviolent Champion. Accordingly his hops up to the ring apron and raises both arms above his head, then in a sanity-defying move he leaps upwards and spins forward, performing a somersault in the air to come crashing down on Amy with a 450 degree splash! The landing doesn’t seem to do his arms or knees many favours, but Brian Warner is on hand to count the pin… ONE! TWO!! …but Amy kicks out! “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” “That was the Dawn from the ring apron,” Edwin says in some amazement, “King, have you ever seen such a-” “-stupid move?” King finishes for him, “usually only when Wildchild’s in the ring.” The fans definitely seem impressed with the Unique Youth’s acrobatics and there’s a definite surge of support for the man from Indiana as he gets back to his feet - a little gingerly, his knees took a fair bit of impact from that landing - and performs a quick headbang in honour of his own madness! That done, Zyon heads for the ring apron and bends down to start searching underneath. “Now what are you looking under there for?” King sighs. “Maybe for a weapon for this hardcore match?” Edwin surmises brightly. “There’s weapons all around him!” King replies, gesturing around, “everyone on the ground seats of this arena is sitting on a weapon, MacPhisto! And given how much these morons all love Zyon, I’m sure they could be persuaded to hand one over to him! It’s just an example of needless showing off; a steel chair was all you needed in my day…” “And the Ace of Clubs?” “That’s the difference between showing off and skilful finesse, you stupid Carnie!” It’s true that Zyon doesn’t have a steel chair, or indeed a baseball bat painted black. “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” What he does have is a twelve-foot ladder. *cough*PenisExtension*cough* King seems to have a frog in his throat. However, regardless of the Gambling Man’s opinions of Zyon’s endowment the Unique Youth hefts his new-found friend with some difficulty, then aims it square at the ribs of the newly-standing Amy Stephens, and charges! It hits the Ultraviolent Champion amidships and sends her tumbling backwards with the breath blasted from her lungs. However, instead of following up immediately Zyon takes a few moments to wedge the ladder between the bottom and middle ropes across the corner of the ring so it reaches out into the ringside area on either side. Once this is done he grabs Amy and Irish whips her into it! *CRACK!* Amy gets caught in the head by the steel but doesn’t go down; instead she staggers backwards where Zyon reaches around to place her in an inverted headlock before raising his other arm high. “Wicked Cutter coming up,” Edwin shouts, remarkably well-informed, as all these guest commentators have been. However he immediately puts the jinx on Zyon’s chances of pulling the move off because as the Unique Youth twists around ready for the stunner part of it Amy whips out an arm and wraps it around his neck, looking for the Last Orders! “LET’S GO A-MY!” Zyon thinks quickly and drives an elbow back into Amy’s ribs, and their recent encounter with a steel ladder means they’re tender enough for the blow to cause the Punk-Rock Princess to loosen her grip a smidge. Encouraged, Zyon stamps backwards and lands his foot on top of Amy’s toes, then throws chivalry to the wind and reaches back to claw at her eyes! The girl from Nottingham releases her hold and shoves him away before clutching at her face and Zyon breathes a sigh of relief for a moment before turning around and charging at his opponent- *WHAM!* -but Amy floors him with a Polish Hammer! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” As Zyon lies on his back, looking up at the arena lights and probably checking to make sure he still has all his teeth, Amy - still swiping angrily at her eyes - approaches timekeeper David Blazenwing and unceremoniously turfs him off his seat, then snaps the steel chair into a folded position and advances on Zyon with bad intentions. The Unique Youth sees the first shot coming and rolls away with alacrity, causing Amy to slam the seating implement into the protective mats, but Amy isn’t of the mindset to abandon a good idea just because she failed implement it properly the first time and the sight of the Ultraviolent Champion coming after him prompts the slightly dazed Zyon to roll back to his feet and run for it! Amy makes to follow but stops after a few paces; she wouldn’t catch Zyon on her best day, and being hit with steel ladders hasn’t helped her quickness any. Accordingly she stops, leans on the chair and wipes her eyes again, her vision still apparently blurred… … and Zyon, now on the other side of the ring, sneaks into it. “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” “I wonder what Zyon has in mind now?” Edwin asks as the Unique Youth looks around. Half the crowd is cheering for him, and a wrestler like Zyon only has one aim in mind; to bring the other half around as well. Also, if you’re a wrestler like Zyon then you only really have one method of doing that - something spectacular. As a result it really shouldn’t surprise anyone that Zyon bounces up and down on his toes a couple of times, takes a few steps backwards for a run-up, then charges forward at a dead sprint and hurls himself out between the top and middle ropes, twisting as he goes to leave the ring with a beautiful corkscrew suicide dive! *CRACK!!* It shouldn’t have surprised anyone. And it certainly didn’t surprise Amy Stephens. Zyon may have been surprised by the fact that on his way out of the ring he caught a chair to the head as it was swung in the opposite direction, but to be fair, he might not be in a condition to register surprise or indeed many other emotions at the moment. We’re fairly sure pain might feature though. “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “She faked him out again!” King exclaims, “does that make her good or Zyon just incredibly dumb?” “That’s the price you pay when you wrestle at such a high tempo,” Edwin shouts over the roars of the crowd, “sometimes the risks you take just don’t pay off!” Amy drops the chair, hooks Zyon’s leg and looks up at Brian Warner, who has grabbed his own head in sympathy for the fallen Unique Youth. However the referee quickly catches onto the situation and drops to count as Amy pins Zyon’s shoulders to the floor…. ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but as incongruous as it may seem, Zyon kicks out! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” Amazingly, the failure of his crowd-winning move doesn’t matter as much as his kickout from what seemed certain defeat, and the Memphis crowd are much more firmly behind the young wrestler from Indiana than they were before! Amy rolls her eyes in a manner eerily reminiscent of her brother’s reactions to so many American crowds, then drags the semi-conscious Zyon to his feet - not without a visible wince from the pain in her midsection - then rolls him under the bottom rope into the ring. She follows straight afterwards with her chair in hand and places it on the canvas before picking Zyon up and placing him in a front facelock. However, her attempt of the Double D T onto the chair is halted as Zyon gives way to instinct and slams his forearm up between her legs! *THUNK!* Clearly, Amy is not as vulnerable to a low blow as any male wrestler. However, that doesn’t mean that it’s a pleasant experience and while her reaction to the shot is not as extreme as Zyon would have hoped it allows him to wriggle backwards out of her grip. Amy has started to bend double, trying to shake off the effects… and Zyon backflips, nailing her in the face with a Flash kick! *SMACK!* “Good gravy, where is he getting it from!?” Edwin asks in astonishment. Zyon’s execution of the Flash kick wasn’t inch-perfect (hey, you try backflipping when you’re only half-conscious) but although he nearly landed on his head he did take Amy over. With a chance now open to him the Unique Youth stoops to grab the chair that Amy was about to DDT him on, wobbles and nearly falls over before he picks it up, then points to a nearby turnbuckle! “I have a bad feeling about this,” King says, before brightening, “actually, what can go wrong! He’ll mess up and hurt himself, and maybe Amy too!” Zyon approaches the turnbuckles, chair clutched in his hands, and with a prayer on his lips that his balance holds out he leaps to the second rope… …to the top rope… …jumps off again, and as he comes down extends his legs to catch the ropes… …and hits a perfect Dusk split-legged moonsault onto Amy WHILST HOLDING THE STEEL CHAIR! *WHAM!!* “SWEET ZOMBIE JESUS!” Edwin hollers, apparently channelling Cyclone Comet. Brian Warner seems equally shocked, but although Zyon is writhing in pain he is still on top on Amy Stephens and the referee quickly realises he has a job to do… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! …NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “THAT WAS THREE!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” “THAT WAS THREE!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” The warring chants are filling the Pyramid again, but the reality becomes clear to the battered Zyon as Brian Warner appears in his field of vision holding up two, yes, just two fingers! “Clearly, Amy Stephens was protected from the full force of that move by the twin airbags nature generously installed on her chest,” Suicide King says smugly, and backstage Joe Peters puts his head in his hands as militant feminists mark him down for assassination. Zyon can’t seem to believe what he’s being told, but despite the sinking desperation in his eyes the Unique Youth knows he isn’t done yet. It takes everything he has to get back to his feet, perhaps even more to bend down again and start to pick Amy Stephens up. The Punk-Rock Princess is having real trouble breathing but Zyon manages to peel her off the mat, then positions himself behind her and to the side and threads her near arm through her legs… then reaches over and applies a half-nelson to the far arm… “He’s going for the 911 Aero Driver,” Edwin calls, “and I don’t care how much spinach you’re chomping, this is goodnight, sailor!” “…what the hell are you talking about!?” Zyon takes a deep breath, grits his teeth… and lifts Amy Stephens up, positioning her on his shoulder ready for the sit-out driver that follows… but Amy starts kicking her legs. Normally Zyon could deal with this and adjust, but his balance isn’t the best at the moment. He struggles, he tries to keep his grip… and he fails. Amy slides out of the move, lands behind him, crumples to her knees… *CHING!* …and hits a low blow. “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO ZY-ON!” Zyon’s world explodes into another sheer white landscape of pain, and it is only dimly that he registers Amy shuffling past him on her hands and knees as he bends double. There is nothing he can make his body do as she picks up the steel chair, and as she jumps up, grabs the back of his head with one hand and brings the chair up with the other in front of her knees all he can do is- *CRUNCH!!* “Face Breaker with a steel chair!” Edwin yells as Zyon topples sideways to the canvas, eyes glazing over. Amy growls in pain as she lands, both from her ribs and her knees, then flings the chair away and drapes one arm over her opponent’s chest… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!!* “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms, “the Punk-Rock Princess… AAAAAAAA-MMMMMMYYYYYYYY… STEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ kicks up over the speakers as Amy wearily receives her belt back from Brian Warner, then crawls over to where she left her beer and her new barbed wire crown. She takes a healing swig from one and puts the other back on her head, then - not without some effort - lugs her black holdall out of the ring and goes in search of her soccer ball. “What a contest!” Edwin says with admiration, “a genuine Herculean effort on the part of both protagonists, and everyone goes home happy!” “Well, I think Zyon’s going to be a bit pissed,” King surmises, “after all he was beaten by a girl and is probably going to need a new face… but hey! That just makes it all the more amusing as far as I’m concerned! Besides,” the Gambling Man adds, “if she can be pushed this hard by someone as pathetic as Zyon then Bruce should have no trouble in getting his belt back on Lockdown!” “We shall see, Brian,” Edwin MacPhisto says mysteriously, “we shall see!” FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
