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“You came that close, JJ.”


Ben Hardy realizes before he can stop the words from coming out of his mouth that that’s probably the wrong thing to say; however, Johnson doesn’t look mad about it. The two men are backstage at the Olympiastadion in Berlin, and fortunately for Hardy, Johnson smirks before talking.


“You’re right, Ben,” admits JJ with a grin. “I did come that close. I came very close, but it just wasn’t enough. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that Gedo Clutch out of the Land of Nod – hell, I wasn’t aware that was physically possible – and I paid the price for it.”


Hardy nods, although he’s a bit confused at JJ’s relative nonchalantness towards losing possibly the biggest match of his career.


“You look a bit confused, Ben,” notes the Canadian, almost as if reading the mind of the pudgy Englishman. “So I’ll explain this to you. I’ve gotten three shots at the World Heavyweight Championship in the past three months, correct?”


Hardy nods.


“And I’ve been successful in none of those attempts. Also correct?”


Hardy nods again.


“As a professional athlete,” continues Johnson again, “I can admit when I’m not ready for something; it’s plain, for me at least, to see that I’m not ready for the World Heavyweight Championship. Something I do have a vested interest in, however, is the International Championship.”


“The International Championship?” asks Ben, a bit shocked. “Isn’t that a bit of a step down?”


“Absolutely not,” replies Johnson. “The International Championship has a great deal of prestige attached to it; besides, you can’t step down if you’ve never stepped up, right? Another reason I’m doing this is because, as Cruiserweight Champion, I had some great matches, yes?”


“Oh, definitely,” agrees Hardy. “Your match against Pretzler was a match of the year candidate.”


“It was?” asks Johnson, looking a bit perturbed by this news. “Weird. Anyway, one of my favorite things about being champion was the wrestling. I got to have some great, pure, wrestling matches against a variety of opponents. Problem is, it wasn’t really a variety. They were all cruisers, so all my moves worked. If they put up a struggle, all it took was a German to put them down – in the case of Spike Jenkins, for the count. Against guys like David Cross, Arch Griffon, and, hell, Janus, that wasn’t the case. I was forced to get creative to win. To me, the International Title represents the pure wrestling of the Cruiserweight Championship, while maintaining a broader field of opponents of all shapes and sizes. So as of right now, I officially chall-“




It is the voice of Akira Kaibatsu that interjects itself into Johnson’s speech; you can’t really tell from the mask, but it’s somewhat obvious that the Divine Wind isn’t pleased with what the Ultimate Fighter has had to say.


“Some of us,” notes Kaibatsu, “feel that you shouldn’t be able to just hop in line for title contendership. I only recently came off of a lengthy and prosperous Cruiserweight Championship reign myself; maybe I’d like to challenge for Wildchild’s belt.”


“Want a shot?” asks Johnson, crossing his arms over his chest.


“Yes,” responds Akira, a bit confused considering that’s what he just said. Johnson smirks, then chuckles, then straightens his face back up and addresses Kaibatsu once more.


“I’ll fight you for it.”


Akira hesitates; suddenly, he’s not quite as eager to take the International Championship. However, he does realize that he needs to push himself if he hopes to advance. A win over JJ Johnson, propensity for choking or not, is a major coup, and could definitely hold some weight when push comes to shove on his career. Knowing this, Akira thinks on it a moment…and then sticks out his hand.


“I accept,” nods Kaibatsu, and Johnson looks down at it for a moment before offering out his fist. The Divine Wind touches his knuckles to those of Johnson’s, and Johnson grins again.


“Best of luck, then,” says Johnson. “I’ll see you later tonight.”


“Later tonight,” agrees Akira, and the two go their separate ways, leaving only Ben Hardy, standing and looking excited.


“Well, there you have it, folks!” says Ben with a look of glee. “Akira Kaibatsu vs. JJ Johnson for a shot at the International Title…and what’s more, that match is tonight! Surely, this will be a true clash of styles, although Johnson’s strong style approach isn’t far different from Akira’s Eurasian blend of strikes and mat techni-“


“Ben?” interrupts Gus, the cameraman.


“What?” asks Hardy.


“We went to commercial after ‘tonight’. You can stop ranting. Nobody cares.”


Hardy breaks down into tears as we…






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(7:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings)



Wayne Blank vs. Amy Stephens ©


---> You want to know how brutal Pandemonium was? Bruce freaking Blank needs time off after it. God damn, man.


But as far as Joseph Peters is concerned, one Blank is as good as another. While Brother Bruce lives life to the fullest in his hospital bed, his younger brother Wayne has been called upon to fill his spot. Wayne's last experience in SWF action didn't turn out so well - he sort of lost a bid for employment to Insane Luchadore. Can he make good his second time around, and show the SWF that he really is an asset to the company?


That may be tough to do, against the Reigning Queen of Hardcore. Wayne steps up to defend his brothers honor - the honor Amy chewed up and spat out not once, but twice, to earn her Hardcore stripes. Can Wayne succeed where his brother failed? Or will Amy shame the Blank family once more?


Rules: Standard singles match.




HOUSE RULES - Mr. Gorbachev, DON'T Tear Down The Wall!

Grendel © vs. Michael Cross


---> World Tour = House Rules. So it is written, so it is done.


Our Hardcore Champion is otherwise occupied, however, so our attention turns to the brand new Cruiserweight Champion! Grendel took to the skies in the Air Raid match at Battleground - now we want him to do it again! SWF CC agreed that such wacky rules should not cover the Cruiserweight Title, so the belt is not on the line, but a win by Michael Cross could lead to a shot later on down the line...


Rules: No Gravity Match, but you must hit your opponent from the top of the Berlin Wall.


The Wall has been torn down, you say?




A piece remains on display outside the European Union Parliament Building. This match begins on the floor of the Parliament Chamber - first man to bring his opponent outside and hit him with a move from on top of the piece of the Berlin Wall wins! What's that, you say? This is in Brussels? Well hell, we're on a World Tour - who cares?!






Bloodshed vs. Austin Sly


---> Austin Sly returned to the SWF at Battleground, and made a hell of a showing in the Air Raid match, coming up just barely oh so short to capturing Cruiserweight gold. Tonight, one recent returnee plays host to the other, as Sly steps up for Bloodshed's in-ring return!


Rules: Standard singles match.


PLUS! Maybe we'll hear from our new World Champion, Landon Maddix! And how about that Spike/Zyon match, eh? Some fallout, perhaps? Perhaps Sean Davis has something to say?

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"It has already been an emotional night here on the first stop of the SWF’s World Tour, and these fans in Berlin have yet to even be treated to a single match!”


“Looking at what’s scheduled, they might want to leave now” quips the Gamblin’ Announcer himself as SWF Aftershox returns from it’s scheduled commercial break to find Funyon standing in the ring idlely, awaiting to introduce the combantants in the first contest of the evening.


“I highly doubt that, King, as the two men in our first match tonight are coming off of long absences from the ring. Firstly, there is Austin Sly, who was been away for most of the last year, returning to the ring only a few days ago and coming up short in his bid to capture the Cruiserweight Championship, while his opponent, whom nobody had seen since early last year, has suddenly resurfaced and looks to be on a man on a mission.”


“Talk is cheap, Francis. You know that. Let’s see if he can cash the check his mouth has been writing for the last week!” King calls as the sold-out crowd is suddenly dropped into pitch darkness, with only a small bright white spotlight shining straight for the entranceway…




As pyro explodes from around the stage, the electrifying opening of Rage Against The Machine’s “Street Fighting Man” has the crowd in Berlin on their feet as the pyrotechnic display gives way to the flashing of the arena lighting system and the entrance of Austin Sly!


“Everywhere I hear the sound of marching…charging feet booooooy…


…cause summer’s here and the time is right for fighting in the street boooooooooy!”


“Ladies and Gentlemen…” Funyon’s voice booms, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall and has a sixty minute time limit. Introducing first…hailing from Saint Louis, Missouri…he weighs in at two hundred and twenty pounds….AUSTIIIIIIIN SLY!”


The crowd’s cheers grow as Sly saunters down the ramp, extending his hand out for a few high-fives from the German crowd before sliding gracefully under the bottom rope and into the ring.


“Austin Sly might not have captured gold on Sunday, but his new attitude looks to be keeping that smile on his face, at least for now…” Mak remarks as Sly spins in a circle, looking out in every direction as he pulls his trenchcoat from his shoulders and drapes it over the ringpost, standing to the side of referee Mathew Kivell as the sounds of Zach de la Rocha and Rage fade out and the lights around the arena once again fall to complete and utter darkness.


“And his opponent…he hails from Sin City, Las Vegas, Nevada and weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds…BLOOOOOOOOOODSHEE—


Funyon is suddenly cut off, the sounds of his microphone striking the mat can be heard through the dark…


“What the hell is going on!” King yells as a lone red spotlight strikes the center of the ring, falling directly on the sight of Bloodshed sitting over top of Austin Sly, pummeling him with hard right hands!


“Bloodshed attacks through the cover of darkness!” exclaims Mak Francis as the lights in the arena are quickly brought back up, finding Funyon fumbling to exit the ring to safety as Kivell calls for the bell to start the match!




“This is insanity!” The Suicide King can be heard as the sold-out crowd explodes, cheering wildly as Kivell tries his best to separate the two men, only to jump backwards as Austin Sly throws Bloodshed off his chest and onto his back before quickly mounting him and firing back with right hands of his own!


“Referee Kivell is doing the best he can in there, but Bloodshed hasn’t even gotten his jacket off yet…” Mak calls as Sly begins to pull at the sleeves of his opponent’s coat, getting one pulled off as he grabs Bloodshed around the neck and sits him up, pulling the empty sleeve back and around the throat of the returning superstar. “Choke applied now and this just has to be broken up!”


Kivell is quick to a five count, with Sly breaking the choke mere milliseconds before disqualification, only to stand to his feet and quickly whip around, catching the back of Bloodshed’s head with a hard kick, sending his opponent’s neck whipping forward. Bloodshed falls back to the canvas and begins to roll toward the ropes, holding his head and pulling his jacket from his body as Sly turns to the crowd, raising his hands to the sky as the thousands in attendance cheer and chant aloud…


“S-W-F! S-W-F!”


“S-W-F! S-W-F!”



“Well it seems the crowd here is firmly behind Austin Sly in the early goings of this match, but you watch, the second Bloodshed starts to come back they’ll start to cheer him too. They always love to be on the side of the winners!”


“What makes you say that, King?”


“There were two sides of this crazy town during Dubya Dubya Two so that no matter who won, Berlin won! They always set themselves up to be happy in the end!” The comment draws a blank stare and dropped jaw from Francis, who tries to shake it off as he looks toward the ring, seeing what Austin Sly can not…


“Well, Austin Sly needs to watch his back………because Bloodshed is back up!” he yells just as Sly turns around, only to find Bloodshed standing mere feet from him. The two share a long stare….




…and lock-up!




The two men work move back and forth across the ring in a test of strength, neither give the other too much room to work with as they push and shove for positioning. Slowly but surely, Austin Sly begins to power his way a step at a time in the right direction, moving Bloodshed closer and closer into a corner.


“Austin Sly looks to be trying to stay on the offensive as much as he can after that blatant cheap attack at the bell!” King remarks as Bloodshed’s back meets the turnbuckle and Kivell once again begins to call for a break. Sly obliges, but only steps out for a second before…







The sound echoes throughout the arena as the taste is knocked out of Bloodshed’s mouth, which surely probably wasn’t too good to begin with…


“What a blatant show of disres—WATCH OUT!” Mak is interrupted as Sly suddenly finds himself once again on his back, the body of Bloodshed on top of him as a flurry of punches connects to his head. “You just can’t do that to someone with that kind of mental instability, and now Austin Sly is paying for it!”


Kivell yells toward Bloodshed to give Sly some room, and after one final hard fist to the jaw he stands, his trademark grin beginning to form as a ringside camera catches a close-up.


“While that idiot is mugging for the camera he’s letting his opponent rest and get back to his feet!” points out the Suicide King as, indeed, Austin Sly works his way back up to his knees, only to catch a hard roundhouse kick square in the chest…







The kick sends Sly reeling as Bloodshed bounds off the ropes…



“DROPKICK!! NO, MISSED!!” Mak exclaims as Bloodshed’s body flies through the air, catching nothing but air as Sly ducks his body and rolls to the side, opening up a nice chunk of canvas for Bloodshed to crash onto with a loud thud.


“HA!” King simply laughs as Bloodshed tries to get back up and shake off the cobwebs, but there isn’t a featherduster big enough in the country as Sly takes his turn to come off the ropes, timing his leap with precision and pasting his boots into Bloodshed’s face as he stands up, connecting with his own dropkick. “Well I guess we know which one of them can hit a dropkick, now.”


“Oh shut it, King” Mak quips as Sly stands back to his feet, only to turn and find Bloodshed back to his knees once more. “Austin Sly is going to really have to work some magic to keep his opponent down. Alan Clark, or whatever you want to call him, as never been one to go down easily.”


“The boy sure doesn’t know when to lay down and take a beating, I can say that much” King comments as Sly pulls Bloodshed to his feet and whips him hard into the corner, catching him around the waist on the rebound and trying to lift him off his feet…


“Northern Lights!” calls Francis, only for Bloodshed’s leg to shoot up, blocking the suplex attempt. Sly squeezes harder and tries once more…










The crowd responds in unison as Bloodshed rears his head back and sends it straight back into Austin Sly, their foreheads connecting with a sickening smack.


“Bloodshed counters with a headbutt, something I don’t think I’ve ever seen out of such a small-statured competitor, and THAT is probably why!” Mak’s remark comes as the camera catches a small trail of blood beginning it’s journey down Bloodshed’s forehead.


“Well he’s got to the name from somewhere, Francis!”


“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed him bleed in person though, it’s just…unsettling.” The announcers and the sold-out crowd watch on as Bloodshed brushes the hair from his face, giving everyone a lovely view of his nick-namesake as it drips from the small gash above his left eye.


“That’s nothing more than a big bullseye now and Austin Sly can sense it!” Sure enough, as Austin regains his senses he gets a good look at his newly crimsoned opponent and takes a step in, then stops, pausing with hesitation…


“Looks like Austin is thinking over his options.”


“Hesitation leads to downfall!” King exclaims out in his own royal way, just as Bloodshed and Sly meet foot to temple, the enziguri from the bloody superstar catching Austin off guard and dropping him down to the canvas. “See! See!”


“Well, as you said, King, that might be a bullseye on Bloodshed’s forehead, but if the past is any indication what doesn’t kill him will only make him bloodier and even harder to keep down.” Mak continues as Bloodshed wipes a bit of the blood from his face and into his right palm as he pulls Sly up to his knees and….






“AH! DID YOU JUST SEE THAT!” The Suicide King nearly vomits into his lap as Bloodshed’s bloody hand returns the slap Austin gave him, leaving a red stain across his cheek. Sly does what any normal human being would do and begins to spit wildly and wipe at his face with his shirt, covering up his eyes long enough that he can’t even see his opponent running back toward him at full speed, wrapping his arm around Austin’s head and driving it back down into the mat with a hard bulldog.


“Austin Sly took his eyes off his opponent, which I think in that particular situation would have happened to anyone, and ate the canvas because of it!” comes the call from Francis as Bloodshed hits the brakes as he comes to the ropes, pausing for a split second before leaping up and springing off the top rope, twisting his body a half-turn through the air and somersaulting down, the corner of his elbow catching Sly like a hammer into the top of his head!




“The crowd here in Germany loves those high risk moves, which we hope to be seeing more of later tonight as the new Cruiserweight Cham—COVER!!”











“Austin Sly barely is able to kick out of that elbow drop that Bloodshed calls his Rainbow In The Dark, but as I was trying to say…” Mak shills like mad as Bloodshed pulls Sly to his feet and then picks him right back up again, driving him down to the mat with a hard scoop slam, “…the fans here tonight are in for a lot of high risk action as Grendel, who lucked out just a few short days ago at Battleground in the Air Raid Match, becoming the new champion of the cruiserweight division, as he takes on Michael Cross just down the road at the Parliament House in Brussels!”


“You shill worse than Axis, Francis! You mention Pepsi Max and I’ll spit in your face...” remarks the Suicide King as Bloodshed crashes down onto Austin Sly once more, this time driving the back of his leg into Austin’s neck and face before going for another quick cover!








Austin is quicker on the uptake this time, and is even quicker back up to his feet, shaking off the elbow to the back of his head and the blood from his lips as he comes at Bloodshed like a streak, lifting him off his feet and carrying him through the air with a waistlock before driving Bloodshed straight into the turnbuckles!


“Sly has head enough!” yells Mak as Austin begins to barrage Bloodshed with forearms to the head, paying close attention to attack the cut and draw even more blood from the body of his opponent, creating a babbling brook of the viscous liquid down and over the bridge of Bloodshed’s nose before it drips to obscurity on the canvas below.


“After what we’ve seen so far, I’m not even sure if going after that cut is such a good idea!” comments the King, but Austin is relentless, trying to punch the taste of blood out of his own mouth as referee Kivell tries to intervene, almost having to forcibly pull Sly away from Bloodshed, who slouches down in the corner, his arms holding himself upright.


“Looks like Austin is finally getting somewhere, that mean streak is in full force, which I’m sure it would be for anyone that just had to swallow someone else’s blood.”





“You and I both know it’s going to take a lot more than that to put an end to that crazy fool in the corner, regardless of how winded he looks now. That guy lasted sixty minutes in an Iron Man match against our current World Champion, remember?”


“Yeah, and you lasted sixty with Danny Williams, now he’s bleeding and your sitting out here with me and he’s bleeding like an idiot. I don’t see the good in either of those situations!” King replies as Kivell finally moves out from in front of Austin Sly, letting him jump right back into attack mode and—





“BLOODMIST!” Mak yells it out for everyone watching at home as King looks for an airsick bag and Austin flails around the ring like a ragdoll, his face now covered in a bright, flowery shade of blood and sweat.


“Disgusting! The most putrid counter I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen almost every match Mr. Galatea has ever had!”


“Even that one with the asian hooker?”


“I thought only Ordonez had a copy of that, he loves that creepy kinky stuff…” King’s attention is deterred from the site in the ring, but Austin Sly’s attention is as focused as ever with trying to cleanse his face, once again rubbing his shirt up and down with more vigor than even the best Puerto Rican maids. Referee Kivell tries to keep his eye on the action as much as possible, even as his stomach no doubt begins to roll and turn like Wildchild on methamphetamines, and Bloodshed goes on the offensive once more, grabbing Sly by the back of the head and doubling him over, holding him steady in a front facelock.


“Pay attention, King!” Mak points back to the ring as Bloodshed aims for a suplex only for Sly to throw his knee up by instinct, breaking the hold and catching Bloodshed in the midsection as Austin’s hands reach out and grab Bloodshed by the back of the neck and pull down, driving his bleeding opponent’s face straight into the top of his head!


“There we go! That could take out some teeth!”


“Jawbreaker escape out of the suplex attempt, and now both men are down and bloody, though in Sly’s case it was spit at him” Mak calls as both men begin to stir, Austin adjusting his shirt and rubbing his hands on his face, trying to remove what’s left of the crimson souvenir that was given to him as Bloodshed sits on his knees a few feet away, adjusting his jaw and arching his back, working on the kinks in his spine from the sudden shock it took just seconds before.


“I hope this whole show isn’t like this…I hope this whole TOUR isn’t like this…”


“It’s just wrestling, King! And now both men are back up, and it seems as though Austin Sly has just got his second wind!” Mak tries to reason with his partner as Sly goes for a suplex attempt of his own, lifting Bloodshed off his feet…up…over…and down back hard to the canvas.


“Woo! A wrasslin’ move! Rare form tonight!” King mocks and Mak ignores him as Sly pulls Bloodshed back up and drags him by the hair to the corner, catching heat from Kivell all the way before hopping up to the second turnbuckle and capturing Bloodshed in another facelock before diving off and throwing his body over and out, DRIVING his bleeding opponent into the mat face-first!


“A picture perfect Tornado DDT from Austin Sly there, even only recently getting back in the ring full time he still has not lost a step!” calls Mak as Sly crawls atop Bloodshed and hooks his leg…











Austin, seemingly unperplexed by the kickout, drags Bloodshed back up to his feet and hooks in a waistlock before lifting up and quickly over his shoulder, bridging himself backwards with acrobatic agility, slamming Bloodshed down into a Northern Lights Pin!













“The faster you attack Bloodshed, the less time he’ll have to spit at you and ramble nonsense!”


“Ramble nonsense?”


“You’ve seen him talk, Francis, talks like those homeless guys you see on the freeway!” King continues his from-behind-the-desk berating as Sly does his best to keep himself on the offensive side of the coin, holding Bloodshed down to the mat and rolling him to his stomach before wrenching in a chinlock and pulling back hard, putting all of his weight into Bloodshed’s back as he contorts and twists the neck, doing anything he can to wear his opponent down.


“Submission applied, and Sly is making sure to keep working that neck over. After that Tornado DDT and that hard jawbreaker from earlier in the match, it’s best to keep applying pressure to the wounds, all the while causing even more blood to come seeping from Bloodshed’s body.” Mak remarks as Bloodshed tries in vain to escape the hold as Kivell watches on, checking for a choke or a possible submission, but Bloodshed can only cough and spray more blood out, much to the horror of those watching in the first few rows.


“Just sick…” King comments as Sly continues to wrench back on the hold, even as Bloodshed’s right hand begins stretching for the rope. Even stretched as far as it can go, there are still a few feet between Bloodshed and a break…only for Sly to simply throw Bloodshed down and hop up, taking a moment to slam his boot down across Bloodshed’s fingers, causing a small yelp as the arm retracts to safety and Austin can pull his prey back up to a standing position.


“Ouch! He waited until Bloodshed was completely in the open and then attacked with that boot right onto Bloodshed’s fingers. That had to hurt!”


“Bah” mutters King, “he should have kept that submission locked in. He could have held him there forever if he wanted to! Why, one time in Poughkeepsie I saw Tom Flesher hold a guy in Wet Cement for almost thirty-seven minutes. Poor guy went into shock around the nine minute mark and passed out and nobody even noticed.”


“Let me guess, they were all too busy staring at the wonder of man that is Tom Flesher?”


“Not even…there were only like twelve people in this dinky little gym Stubby booked, and they all went out to start their cars and try to beat the traffic…at around midnight on a Tuesday.”


“Well, like they didn’t know who was going to win...” remarks Mak as Austin Sly drags Bloodshed to the corner and hoists him up onto the top turnbuckle before climbing up himself and turning himself into position…


“What the hell is he doing?”


“Austin Sly calls this So-Cal…and if it connects that could be the end of the day for Bloodshed!” Mak exclaims as Sly wraps his arms around Bloodshed’s head and dives off the top, looking for the neckbreaker…






“Well, that wasn’t very impressive…”


“Bloodshed slipped out!!” yells Mak as Austin Sly’s body hits the canvas hard, leaving Bloodshed seated on the top turnbuckle. “That was not how it was supposed to go…and now Bloodshed is climbing to the top!”


As the fans watch on, Bloodshed pulls himself up to the top turnbuckle and stands, looking down into the ring and at the body of Austin Sly. With a small bounce, Bloodshed leaps out, rotating his body forward a full four hundred and fifty degrees before going spread eagle…









“NO!!!” Both announcers yell in unison as Austin Sly rolls out of the way just in the nick of time, causing Bloodshed’s body to violently crash and burn into the mat!


“He calls that the Fall From Grace, and that might just be why! Austin Sly was still awake enough after that So-Cal miss that he just barely escaped the huge splash from Bloodshed!”





The crowd once again pipes up as Bloodshed writhes around in the ring, holding his stomach as Austin gets to his feet, shaking his head and slapping himself wide awake before pulling Bloodshed up and wrapping his hand around his throat. Kivell warns of the choke but Austin ignores it, lifting Bloodshed off his feet and holding him in the air before driving him down with a hard backbreaker.


“I guess that choke doesn’t matter now!” King laughs as Sly is quick to his feet and takes off toward the ropes, jumping up and springboarding off the second rope, sending is body spiraling and somersaulting backwards a full two hundred and seventy degrees…












…NOOOOO! IT DOES NOT CONNECT!” Mak goes into a caps-lock attack in the booth as Austin Sly’s body misses it’s target, putting him face-down into the canvas!


“Can someone please just hit a move already!” King yells as Bloodshed uses the ropes to get to his feet and moves back toward the recovering Sly, pulling him up and hooking in a front facelock before quickly turning his body…


“Neckbreaker….BLOCKED!!” Mak calls and King groans once more as Sly pushes with all his might, sending Bloodshed toward the ropes and bouncing back just in time for Austin to leap into the air…

















“FINALLY!” King yells as Sly’s hurricanrana attempt falls short, with Bloodshed able to block the move, leaving Austin Sly hanging by his feet for only a split second, as Bloodshed quickly and effortlessly drops to his knees, driving the top of Austin’s head into the canvas with a hard, crisp, definitive thud.



















“Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match by pinfall…BLOOOOODSHED!!” Funyon’s voice booms from the PA as Bloodshed rolls off of the downed Sly and to the outside of the ring, grabbing his coat from an attendant as the ringside camera catches the trademark sly, yet creepy, grin plastered on Bloodshed’s face as Kivell quickly raises his arm and then heads back into the ring to check on Sly, who has moved little since the final bell.


“These two men traded slaps, one man’s blood, and every move they could think of, until finally Bloodshed was able to take advantage and take the win with his own Bad Acid Trip!”


“I don’t see The Bus anywhere, you can’t have an acid trip without—“ King is suddenly cut off as the lights in the arena go to darkness, and when they return moments later, the victor who was just standing at ringside has suddenly vanished, leaving nothing but the blood drops around the ring and across Austin Sly’s face as memories of his appearance.


“As quickly and mysteriously as Bloodshed appeared at the start of the match, he has disappeared from sight, possibly heading to Brussels for our next match, as Grendel takes on Michael Cross in one of the SWF’s signature House Rules matches, but keep it tuned in here in Berlin as we still have so much more, including our Hardcore champion Amy Stephens taking on Wayne Blank, who’s brother Bruce should be committed after everything we saw from him and the Insane Luchador this past Sunday! But next…Brussels…No Gravity…Grendel…Cross…STAY TUNED!!”




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(Obviously pre-taped as Mak has been wheeled to ringside to commentate on the live broadcast)


We see the still wheelchair bound Mak Francis sitting next to a ”he really SHOULD be wheelchair bound” Bruce Blank in a studio somewhere. Bruce looks horrible, not to put too fine a point on it he looks like he’s been chewed up by a herd of wildebeests and then spat out, then run over by a truck


Pandemonium will do that to you


”Yak with Mak”


Welcome to the first ever ”Yak with Mak” where I get up close and personal with one of the SWF superstars you see on TV each and every week” Mak says with a fake smile that screams ”I’d rather be somewhere else doing something else right now.”


Mak grabs the joystick on his electric wheelchair and then turns towards Bruce.


”My guest today the self-proclaimed ”King of Pain” Bruce Blank. How are you doing?” Mak asks


Bruce just sits there for a moment pondering exactly how to answer the question – the fact that his face is swollen and bruised and cut in so many places that Bruce lost count apparently doesn’t tell Mak how he’s doing? The fact that his entire left arm is heavily bandaged and in a sling doesn’t tell Mak how he’s doing? Apparently the fact that he still has trouble breathing doesn’t tell Mak how he’s doing either.


So how can he convey the message to him?


”I’m in fucking agony” Bruce says, then smiles to show that he’s actually missing two teeth and not from not brushing like most people from Alabama, he had those teeth before Battleground.


”Erm – yeah” Mak says confused and then tries to consult his notes.


”I’ve been run over, knocked down, kicked around and thrown in the barbwire net, but as the old joke goes ”You should see the other guy” ” Bruce says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.


”Since we’re already on the subject, let’s talk about Pandemonium” Mak starts out hoping to get Bruce to just pick up the ball and take it from there.


”Rickmen. . . ” Bruce starts out, then pauses to think about exactly how to say it ”I respect you, not as a man, or a friend or any of that touchy feely crap but as warrior of the squared circle. But know this, if you step in my way again I will not hesitate to pound you into the ground! You were the one that pushed me to the extremes I went to at Battleground, you brought the pain and the suffering on yourself – you drove me to do what I did”


”So basically you’re saying he had it coming?”


”I’m saying that the monster that he faced at Battleground. . . I’m saying that he helped bring that monster out in me, I shed no tears for the Insane Luchador”


”Alright moving on then from Rickmen to yourself, it’s quite obvious that you took as well as you received”


”Almost as much, but I did walk out the winner” Bruce corrects him


”How many stitches did you receive after the mat?” Mak asks inquisitively


”Lord I don’t know, I didn’t count them or anything, but I know they had to stitch up my arms, my back, my face and especially my legs after that dive into the barbwire net. That’s just superficial though, that’ll heal easy enough”


”As opposed to?” Mak asks


Bruce sits there and looks down at his left hand without saying anything for a while, then he looks up with a serious look in his eyes.


”That’s my business, you watch the match and I’m sure you got a pretty good idea of where it’s more than just aches and bruises and skin cuts” Bruce says in a low, serious voice ”It’s the first time I’ve had to put myself on the disabled list”


”Come on you’ve been inured before?”


”I’ve been injured plenty before Mak, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that this is the first time where the doctors have said ”you shouldn’t go out there” that I’ve been forced to agree with them, I’m in no shape to compete – not just yet.”


”How long does the doctors think you need?” Mak asks


”Ah you know doctors they’re always over careful, they said that well I should give it a month or more for some of the injuries to heal, one will never be 100% again – kinda like my ear” Bruce says with a grin, finding a source of humor in his situation.


”So a couple of months?”


”That’s what the doctors say, I ain’t never been much for all that doctorin’ I got one rule – if it doesn’t hurts after a bottle of Daniels then I’m ready to compete”


”And how many bottles would it take right now?”


”A whole fucking lot of them” Bruce says, then laughs a bit until it hurts ”It won’t be a month that’s for damn sure, I ain’t one to sit around with a boo-boo for too long.”


”But until then Wayne is taking your bookings?”


”Yeah he is. Just until I pass the Jack Daniels test. He can handle the family business”


”Like Amy Stephens?” Mak asks cautiously knowing it’s a sore subject.


”Heh, yeah like that little bitch. She can prance around with a crown on her head and call herself the queen of whatever she’d like, she can get all snooty about throwing me in the water or have Sean Davis help her defeat me. It doesn’t matter”


”Doesn’t matter? The fact that she won the Hardcore Gamer’s title from you?”


”Not any more. Everything seems so different when you look at it from a hospital bed you know?”


Mak can’t help but nod, he definitely knows.


”Now don’t get me wrong, I haven’t forgotten about her, I haven’t forgotten about taking the Ultraviolent title back – it’ll happen, I think I’ve shown everyone that I belong at the top of the Ultraviolent mountain after Battleground. But what’s most important right now is how much she SUFFERS!” Bruce says with clenched teeth. ”Getting the title back is the destination, but breaking that little girl down is the journey – and lord almighty am I going to enjoy that journey”


Mak is at a loss for words, Bruce’s tone and intentions kinda creeps him out and he does what any freaked out interviewer does – he sticks to his cue cards


”Now about the Hardc-” Mak begins only to be cut off by Bruce


”I got to stop you right there. I don’t care about the Hardcore Gamer’s title, NO ONE has cared about that title in years. Now the Ultraviolent title, THAT’S what matters, that’s what’s important”


”It’s the same title Bruce”


”Oh is it? The Hardcore title is regarded as nothing more than a low card ”freak show” title, the Ultraviolent title meant something, it meant something because I made it mean something for 213 days, it meant something because I made it mean something by taking on all challengers. It meant something because I successfully defended that title against J.J. Johnson, it meant something because I defended that title against Landon Maddix – names sound familiar?”


”Well of course they competed for the world title at Battleground, Landon won” Mak says not sure if Bruce was actually aware of this fact.


”Yeah they competed for the world title – two people that I successfully defended against, two people I put down and walked away from with the Ultraviolent title still in my possession. That’s why the Ultraviolent title means something!” Bruce says in no uncertain terms


”It’s the same title” Mak repeats


”You don’t get it do you? It’s not about the belt, it’s about a state of mi. . . you know what? Forget it, you wouldn’t understand it – you’ve not experienced it, you’ve not felt the blood rush of throwing someone off a 25 foot five tower or looking down and seeing your opponent’s blood all over your hands and arms!”


”Erm. . . well it’s just not my style” Mak says trying to calm the angry beast a little. ”I mean not that there is anything wrong with your wrestling style, different strokes for different folks you know – it’s more for guys like you or the Insane Luchador or Bloodshed”


Bruce can’t help but smile at the mention of Bloodshed and then lean back.


”Bloodshed indeed – this guy comes to my dressing room before the show, catches me while I’m shaving my head and goes on and on about how the fans don’t appreciate me and how the guys on American Idol are more famous than I am.” Bruce says with an amused look on his face


”Yeah we all saw it” Mak reminds him


”Really? They hid a camera in the dressing rooms?” Bruce and Mak both turn and look at the ”4th wall” for a moment before going on.


”He asked me if it was all worth it. And you know what? Yes, yes it is.”


”I can’t help but wonder Bruce, I mean look at you. The doctors said you may not ever fully recover from all of your injuries – that’s worth it? Just for 30 minutes of fame and glory?”


”What you don’t understand, what no one seems to understand is that I’m not doing this for the fame or for the fan approval. Boo me, cheer me I don’t care – I’m looking out for number one here. The simple fact is. . .”


Bruce says and then pauses for emphasis


”I like to hurt people” He says with a dead pan expression.


”Erm. . . ” Mak’s hand moves towards the joystick ready to pull backwards at the first sign of Bruce attacking him.


”I could give a damn about fame! You know one thing I felt after Pandemonium? One thing above EVERYTHING ELSE?”


”Pain? Agony?”


”That was secondary Mak, what I felt above all was alive – I’ve never felt so damn alive in my entire life. I stopped holding back, I stopped thinking about what I was doing and just did it instead. I threw away my inhibitions and I FELT ALIVE!” Bruce says with a smile on his face ”It was without a doubt the biggest rush I’ve ever felt”


”I’m sorry but you’re not right in the head man, that’s just not right” Mak says and pulls away from the table in disgust


”It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong Mak! Don’t you see? That’s what’s so liberating about it, that’s why I feel so alive. And if Bloodshed or anyone else doesn’t get that then I pity them because then they’ll never truly understand why I do the things I do – and why I will do the things I will do in the future”


Bruce turns and looks straight at the camera with a smile, despite the bandages, the sutures, the bruises, the cuts and the gouges he smiles.


”I’m free. I’m as free as a bird now”


And on that chilling note we fade out.

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“Battle Ready” by Otep invades the speakers of the colossal Olympiastadion in Berlin, Germany. The capacity crowd begins booing relentlessly as Sean Davis takes the stage. His theme dies down and Davis addresses the crowd.


“I don’t understand your dislike of me,” Sean begins. This draws more heat from the Germans, but The Perfect Storm presses on. “You must see how other crowds react and just follow like sheep. I thought it was just the French that were famous for giving in to the masses..”




The Suicide King chimes in from the announce table, “Sean Davis comes out complaining of the heat he gets from the crowd, and insults them in the process. Smart.”


Sean waves it off. “Anyway, I’ve been getting a lot of questions about why I attacked Spike at Battleground. The answer is simple, loyalty.”


“Loyalty?” repeats Mak Francis. “To what, himself?”


King surmises, “Maybe he’s still loyal to Revolution Zero. I’ve heard him saying that name a lot. Spike broke his ankle, you see.”


“He’s been out quite a while recovering from that injury.”


Davis explains, “Loyalty is what makes a man. He must be loyal to his family, to his brothers.. his brothers in arms, or brothers on the field. Spike Jenkins crossed that loyalty. He turned on Revolution Zero and those close to him. Spike’s loyalty rests only in himself. While some may believe that’s the key to getting ahead in this business, I disagree.”


Sean, dressed in a suit tonight, sticks his free hand in his pocket and begins to slowly pace the stage, like a businessman making a presentation. “My loyalty still rests with Revolution Zero. The group may be defunct, but the ties that were formed shouldn’t have been broken. I couldn’t help my leave of absence, and Toxxic has run off to who knows where. But my loyalty to Toxxic is why I helped Amy. It was also very against my nature to let Bruce Blank continue his assault on her. I know Amy’s more than capable of handling herself, which she has proven time and time again.. Bruce was out of his mind, and he needed to be stopped.”


“Is he going to make a point?” King whines.


Mak answers, “I think he did. He attacked Spike because of his selfishness.”


“It’s revenge, pure and simple.”


Sean looks out over the crowd, seeing that they’ve grown bored or agitated. “All right, that’s it. I attacked Spike because he needs to get what’s coming to him. If anyone has any other questions, they know where to find me.”




Davis turns and heads backstage. The camera focuses on the announce table. “Well,” starts Francis. “That was interesting.”

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"Welcome back fans, we're here in Germany where the Suicide King is banned from using the phrases 'Nazi', 'Hun', 'Fritz', 'the War' and most especially, 'I bet he's a sour Kraut'," Mak Francis greets viewers as Aftershoxx returns from commercials. "I could go on, but someone's about to come out and cut a promo."


"What are you talking about?" King sneers, "no-one's scheduled to-"


-but the Gambling Man is cut off as 'Blitzkrieg Bop' (itself a possibly inflammatory choice of music) fires up over the PA system, and moments later a familiar figure appears at the top of the entrance ramp and begins marching down to the ring. Amy Stephens has the rechristened Hardcore Gamer's Championship around her waist and her barbed wire crown on, but the lager in her hand has changed to Kronenburg 1664 for tonight's show. The way to the squared circle is quote long and Amy leads the crowd in a chant as she continues stomping down:







With that, Joey Ramone launches into the first verse proper as Amy reaches the ring, and the junior Stephens rolls in under the bottom rope and beckons to Funyon for the microphone.


"Amy was booked against Megan Skye in what many felt would be a very one-sided match at Battleground," Mak Francis says, "and they were right - however, despite the fact that Amy wiped the floor with her opponent, Landon Maddix's interference-"


"That's New World Champion Landon Maddix," King corrects him.


"...but you hate Landon!" Mak protests.


"Yes, but have you never picked at at scab to see how much it hurts?" the Heartbreaker replied moodily.


"Anyway," Mak rallies, "Landon Maddix's interference was enough to turn the tide and Megan picked up an unlikely, uncalled for and totally undeserved victory!"


"I'm just curious to see if Amy can speak German as well as her brother," King says.


"Toxxic can speak German?" See, Mak Francis doesn't know everything.


"He's fairly fluent, apparently. I guess someone needed to tell Kaine how crap he was."


Amy accepts the microphone from Funyon and raises it to speak. Then lowers it again, raises her can of Kronenburg and takes a hearty swig. Only once the important stuff is covered does the Punk-Rock Princess raise the mic once more and take a deep breath...




"INNIT!" the German crowd thunders, completing the sentence for her. Amy gives them a nod of acknowledgement, then turns around and regards the entrance ramp and its gateway to the backstage area with a menacing glower.






"Landon, what it is right, is you are one dumb piece of shit!" Amy yells, making herself heard over the responsive crowd. “Not only were yer stupid enough to piss off one of only two women in the bloody world who was prepared to put up with yer, but yer made me mad at the other one, an’ let me tell you somefing, when I get mad people get hurt, ya get me? Now, everyone knows that your bitch wouldn’t have had a bloody chance in our match if you hadn’t shoved yer oar in, so here’s the deal; I ain’t comin’ after her again, cos she knows her place, right? You, on the other hand…”


There is a brief but pregnant pause, while Amy takes a moment to gather her thoughts and consider her words (both events that need to be noted and treasured).


“…Landon, when you din’t come an’ check on me in the hospital, I thought it was cos you’re a self-centred arsehole. But I knew that anyway, an’ it didn’t bother me. But then Sean tol’ me how you’d taken up with that slapper Megan and got a World Title shot, an’ you know what? That pissed me off. An’ not only that but you got drunk with her in yer hotel room, an’ Landon, I know what you get like when yer drunk. You tried to convince me that she was just yer manager an’ nothin’ else, an’ that made me mad cos you thought I was stupid enough to believe ya. An’ then you come down to my match at Battleground an’ ya not only try an’ help Megan win, but yer try and do it in a way that’ll make me think yer weren’t tryin’ to. An’ you think I’m stupid enough ter believe that an’ all.


“Landon, I ain’t posh, an’ I ain’t cultured, an’ you know that. I drink, I swear, an’ I don’t give two shits about what people think of me. I ain’t makin’ no claims about being any sort of genius, or being some sort of great technical wrestler or nuffin’, cos it jus’ ain’t true. But in all the time you spent with me, you should’ve learnt two things, right? One, I might not be a genius, but I ain’t stupid. An’ two, I really, really hate when people think that jus’ cos I’ve got big tits, an’ I speak with an accent, an’ I spend a lot of time drinkin’, that I am stupid.”






The German crowd are getting behind the Punk-Rock Princess, an odd choice perhaps given that she’s an English girl, but it looks like hatred of Landon is a cross-culture phenomenon.


“So here’s the deal,” Amy says, starting to gain pace again, “like I said, I ain’t comin’ for Megan anymore cos her an’ me both know I could take her apart, so I’M COMING FER YOU!!”




“What it is right, is I don’t give a damn who you jus’ beat, an’ I don’t give a damn what title you hold, an’ I certainly don’t give a flyin’ fuck about whatever fucked up, unresolved, pseudo-homoerotic issue you still got wiv my bruvver, right? It don’t matter ter me no more, an’ it shouldn’t matter ter you, an’ you know why? Cos on Lockdown, I want yer fuckin’ whining, cheating, egomaniac backside in a fucking match!”




“She wants to lay off those F-bombs,” King winces.


“Hey, we’re the SWF,” Mak Francis says, “we laugh in the face of censorship.”


“An’ jus’ to make it well clear for yer,” Amy thunders, overriding even the delighted response of the German crowd, “I ain’t bovvered whether it’s my belt on the line, your belt on the line, no-one’s belt on the line… Hardcore rules, Pure rules, Cruiserweight rules, some crazy House Rules or hey, Megan Skye On A Pole, I’m gonna make yer wish you never heard the name Stephens…”


Amy pauses for a moment and glances around significantly at the crowd. They know when it’s sing-along time.


“…YA GET ME!?”


And with that, Blitzkrieg Bop fires up and Amy throws the microphone back to Funyon and exits underneath the bottom rope before making her way back up the ramp.


“Well, you heard it here first,” Mak says, “Amy Stephens has called our new World Champion Landon Maddix out for Lockdown! I have no idea whether the bookers will recognise and respond to this call, but if they do… well, I think we’re going to have an explosive match!”


“You’ve got that one right,” King agrees, “plus we might get to see Landon have his ass handed to him by a girl!”


“Don’t forget she’s already beaten him once in a tag match when he was Laberinto.”


“Believe me, I make a point not to accidentally forget any of Landon’s losses.”







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The German crowd ERUPTS as we come back from commercial break, the thumping beats of the Wu-Tang Clan’s “Protect Ya Neck” welcoming viewers to another fine edition of SWF Aftershoxxx! “Watch ya step, kid!” is heard repeatedly, the catchy hook ringing throughout the Olympiastadion as Akira Kaibatsu makes his way through the curtain, prompting yet more noise from the raucous Berlin crowd.


“Ladies and gentlemen,” smiles Mak Francis, “welcome back to Aftershoxxx! I’m the Franchise, Mak Francis, joined as always by the Suicide King, and what we have in front of you is an interesting matchup indeed.”


“Agreed,” nods King. “As the show started tonight, we saw JJ Johnson backstage, and he did something that I have to commend him for; he admitted he’s not ready for World Title competition. He then said that the proud tradition of the International Title, both the title and itself and it’s long string of straight-up wrestling matches, might be just what he needed.”


“Correct,” agrees the Franchise. “But then, Akira Kaibatsu interrupted him, claiming that he might fancy a shot at the International Title himself. Johnson challenged him to a match for the shot, Akira – oddly hesitant – accepted, and here we are. It’s sure to be a hell of a matchup.”


“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the #1 Contendership to the International Championship!” booms Funyon. “Introducing first, from Sendai, Japan, weighing in at 195 pounds…he is the Divine Wind, A-KIII-RAAA…KAI-BAAAAAATSUUUUUU!!”


Akira slides into the ring, strangely without Mr. Kobe, and begins warming up for the match ahead. He felt slightly tentative about challenging Johnson, to be honest, but again – beat him here, and it’s a major addition to his resume for the future…and then the lights drop out.


I do that rather well…don’t you think?


A pause.


And then chaos, Lord Worm’s long drawn-out scream, Flo Mounier’s frantic and technical drumming, and the blazing red-and-white lights by the Smarktron not mixing very well as smoke begins rushing out of the stage. Cryptopsy’s “Crown of Horns” is in full gear as the smoke is suddenly parted, JJ Johnson striding out of the fog with tag belt over his track-jacketed shoulder, bald head gleaming in the light.


“And his opponent,” begins Funyon again, slight cheers mixed in with the jeers, “from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 223 pounds. He is one half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions…J! J! JOHNSON!”


The Canadian is already unzipping his jacket as he jogs up the ring steps, shedding the outerwear before taking his tag belt and hopping up to the second rope, throwing his arms wide as he glares out over the crowd. He only poses for a moment before hopping down, shaking his legs out, and walking to the center of the ring to come face-to-face with Akira Kaibatsu.




“And we’re off!” says Mak gleefully, and the two men shake hands before locking up, the less powerful Akira struggling for a moment under the sudden force of Johnson’s shoving; however, what Akira lacks in size and strength he makes up for in leverage, and he manages to make some forward progress in the grapple, the two struggling until the Canadian ends up back-first against the ropes.


“Alright, break!” says referee Blaine Kalem, and Akira hesitates a moment before throwing his arms off, the crowd applauding the clean break. Johnson comes off the ropes looking slightly disappointed, but he rolls his shoulder before stepping back into the middle of the ring, where the two lock up again. This time, Johnson ducks low, and the combined forces of strength, momentum and leverage are too much for the Divine Wind to overcome, Akira stumbling backwards while still putting up something of a fight, until AKIRA’S back is to the ropes.


“Break it!” orders Kalem immediately, and Johnson slowly but surely takes his arms away…before lashing the right one back out, catching Kaibatsu square in the jaw with an elbow smash!




“That doesn’t seem fair,” frowns Mak as the crowd gets negative, not really a fan of Johnson’s dirty break.


“You can’t be disqualified for it, Mak,” sighs King. “Johnson broke the hold fair and square, and then hit Akira. You can break cleanly and still make some progress towards beating a guy; Akira needs to learn that, and fast, if he hopes to survive in here with Johnson.”


Disgruntled now, Akira steps off of the ropes and pulls his arm back before throwing an elbow of his own…that Johnson dodges easily, ducking around the point of the blow before whipping his arm forward and catching Akira under the point of the chin!




Akira is shaken up, but it doesn’t bother him, and he pulls his arm back before pitching a second elbow…and again, Johnson ducks and weaves before coming up with an elbow that catches Kaibatsu clean in his masked temple!





Akira seems noticeably staggered by this blow – it was a clean shot to the temple, so unless he’s superhuman he’s going to be – but on instinct, he pulls his arm back before whipping forward with a chop…and Johnson catches it before bringing him to the mat with a Fujiwara takedown! Akira is still out of it, and Johnson uses this moment well, trapping Kaibatsu’s arm between his legs before reaching across Akira’s body, sliding his arm under that of the Divine Wind’s, and sliding his head under…no! Before Johnson can latch on the Nagata Lock, Akira snaps back to attention, freeing his arm from Johnson’s clutches before drawing it back and throwing a back elbow!




…That Johnson catches, and responds with a forceful elbow of his own…




…before rolling to the side, dragging Akira over onto his shoulders with a leg single-chickenwing pin, Kalem sliding in to count for…








TW-But Akira kicks out, rolling to his feet with his eyes locked on Johnson. The Canadian is not as quick to get to his feet, and Kaibatsu capitalizes, rushing in with a kick to the jaw…that Johnson catches, and he leaps from his knees to his feet before tossing Kaibatsu’s foot away…and the Divine Wind spins around BEFORE MASSACRING JOHNSON WITH A DRAGON WHIP!




Well, he’d like to. Actually, Johnson ducks, and moments later, Kaibatsu is facing away from Johnson…


…being lifted…


…looking at the lights…


…looking at the now-upside-down fans behind him…




“BACKDROPDRIVAAAAAHH!!” bellows King as Kaibatsu lands right on the top of his head before rolling lifelessly onto his stomach, Johnson quickly capitalizing and rolling the Sendai native onto his back for a pin that gets…










But only two, the Divine Wind hurling his shoulder off of the mat with frightening speed considering the angle he just landed at. Johnson, knowing it’s never, ever a good idea to bother with a second cover, gets to his feet, reaching down and tugging Kaibatsu up by his mask…and Akira draws his arm back before throwing an elbow!


…And Johnson pops him with one before Kaibatsu’s can reach, then doubles the Divine Wind over before stuffing him into the standing head-scissors!


“Johnson going for the powerbomb here after nailing Akira with another one of those elbows,” notes Francis. “But why is Johnson so much more successful with those elbows than Kaibatsu is?”


“Notice how Akira pulls his arm back before going forward with the elbow?” asks King.


“Yeah,” nods the Franchise.


“So does Johnson,” responds the Gambling Man with a grim face as Johnson doubles over, seizing Akira around the waist. “Notice that Johnson doesn’t pull his arm back before throwing it, he just swats you with it. It might not pack the same punch Akira’s pull-back method might, but it’s certainly harder to block.”


With a firm grip, Johnson bends deep before pulling upwards…






…before Akira reverses, simply hopping himself over onto the ground behind Johnson…



…who whips around backwards, catching Kaibatsu with an enzui-screaming elbow! Knocked silly a second time, Akira staggers, but doesn’t collapse. However, he probably wishes he had, as the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face is Johnson’s hand on his tights, tugging him backwards before tucking his head under his arm, lifting, and MURDERING HIM WITH A SECOND BACKDROP DRIVER!




“SECOND BACKDROP DRIVER!” shouts King! “He survived the first, right onto his skull! This one folded him up on his neck; surely, SURELY, he can’t survive being dropped on his head twice within a minute!”


It looks to be that way as Akira slumps sideways once more, and Johnson dives on top of him again, looking for a three count and a free trip to the International Title as Kalem drops…for















“About time the crowd got into this,” grumbles King.


“Why wouldn’t they, King?” asks the Franchise as Johnson drags Akira to his feet once more, popping him with an elbow before whipping him to the ropes, and catching him on the rebound…




…with an Akira Kaibatsu lariat, what motor skills Akira has left after his sheer drops being used to charge the Japanese cruiserweight directly into Johnson’s chest…and Johnson staggers a few steps before charging back at the Divine Wind and nailing him with an elbow! Akira almost goes down, doubling over, and Johnson uses that opportunity to catch him with a knee before hooking him in a front facelock for a suplex, reaching down and placing his hand between Kaibatsu’s legs, cradling him!


“Johnson is probably looking for a cradle brainbuster here,” notes King. “I’m not sure why he thinks this will do him any good; the backdrop drivers essentially got no-sold by Kaibatsu.”


And with that, the Canadian explodes into the very action that defines a cradle brainbuster, hoisting Akira up…




…and holding him there, vertical. The Divine Wind is held straight up, just a moment, and then the cradle is abandoned, Johnson switching to a firm hold on the leg of Kaibatsu’s tights…



…and dropping to the side.


“…this isn’t a cradle brainbuster,” say Mak, looking horrified.





Damn straight.



The crowd goes completely silent as Johnson simply stacks Akira on his shoulders; as is the case with the Emerald Frosion – which is exactly what just happened; an elevated version of the Emerald Frosion – the pinning cradle is technically inherent to the move. Johnson just has to hang on as Kalem counts.












Berlin’s Olympiastadion is completely silent as Johnson rolls out of the ring, leaving Akira’s…well, ‘corpse’ might be a delightful term…behind as he heads up the ramp, muscling his way past the hoard of EMTs that is already making it’s way down to the ring.


“That…that was absurd,” says Mak, ‘absurd’ probably not being the best term to use. “That was Janus’ ADF II…but it was from a vertical suplex. Akira might be hurt, ladies and gentlemen.”


“Good,” says King bitterly as Funyon raises the microphone to his lips.


“Here is your winner, and the #1 Contender to the International Title, JJ Johnson,” sighs Funyon, most of his exuberance gone as Johnson disappears through the curtain…





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We’re whisked backstage where SWF’s own (regrettably) Ben Hardy is busy talking to someone on the phone as he goes live.


”So why is it extra if I bring the goat myself?”


Hardy notices the hand gestures and looks at the camera like a deer caught in headlights.


“Erm. . . Hello” is his BRILLIANT cover up as he quickly hangs up his phone and then tries to compose himself.


“Man I’ve never seen a guy sweat that much, not even a fat guy on a treadmill” Wayne Blank says as he walks into the shot. Wayne is wearing his “Dragon” wrestling gear, except for the mask which is tugged into the waistband of his pants, he also seems to have found the backstage commissary as he’s got a large beerstein in one hand and a bratwurst in the other.


“I- I- I- “ Hardy stutters


“Boy howdy you say the purdiest things” Wayne says and then drinks from his beerstein.


“Wayne you’re here tonight to fulfil your brother’s obligations while he recovers” Hardy says as he tries to get back on track.


“Man you’re not nearly as stupid as Bruce said. Sausage?” Wayne says and then holds the big German sausage up in front of Hardy’s face.


Hardy looks like he’s ready to just wrap his lips around that big sausage and eat it all, but he composes himself (a little) and then tries to divert his eyes from Wayne’s big sausage.


“Alright I’ll jump right into it, what makes you think you can succeed where your brother has failed?” Hardy asks.


“First of all Benny you’re only saying this because my brother isn’t here tonight.” Wayne says as he waves his sausage at Hardy “Second of all it’s me you’re talking to Wayne F’ing Blank, I’m gold baby – I can’t lose” Wayne says with a grin that reveals that he’s already had some “social lubrication” tonight.


“Well you lost to the Insane Luchador” Hardy points out


Wayne stops dead in his tracks and then mumbles something rather derogatory towards Hardy while trying to think of a way to recover. A big bite of Bratwurst and another drink of beer seems to do the trick as Wayne has already forgotten what they were talking about.


“GUTEN ABEN BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEERLIN!!” he yells expecting a crowd pop, but well he’s backstage so nothing much happens. “It’s good to be back in the country, I like what you’ve done with it” Wayne comments and thus manages to lose Hardy completely.


“You’ve been here before?”


“Germany? Damn right, me and my bro worked here. . . for about 4 weeks.” Wayne seems to go off on a tangent “They had no right to deport Bruce – NO RIGHT!” Wayne quickly goes from agitated to excited once again as the alcohol really begins to kick in. “So in conclusion stay away from the sourkraut”


And then he walks off leaving a very confused Ben Hardy behind.


“Erm. . . so there you have it”


Quick hand gestures to cut and we quickly fade out.

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”Ladies and gentlemen!” Funyon says the moment Aftershock return from the final commercial break “The following match is the MAIN EVENT of the evening scheduled for one fall with a 30 minute time limit” he says with a smirk, drawing out the introductions as long as he can, after all he only gets limited TV time each week, he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth.


The opening guitar riff to “School’s out” rocks the entire arena and is a clear signal to Funyon to hurry up and introduce the guy because he’s seconds from entering the arena.


“Comingtotheringfirst from Mobile, Alabama here tonight to fulfill his brother’s bookings while he recovers. He’s known as the “Drunken Dragon” – Germany give it up for WAYNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!” Funyon says with a smile, he totally nailed that introduction.




Wayne steps onto the ramp with a huge, doufus grin on his face as he looks around at the totally packed station and all the Germans in attendance, not since that free Sauerkraut promotion by McDonalds have so many Germans been squeezed into one location.


”Well we got no choice

All the girls and boys

Makin’ all that noise

'Cause they found new toys”


Wayne pulls the mask from his waist band and then slides it on, adjusting it so that the eyeholes are in the correct place.


“Staggering” Mak utters.


“Yes I must say that mask is staggeringly gorgeous” the Suicide King says while admiring the craftsmanship of Wayne’s dragon head mask.


“No I mean Wayne is staggering” Mak points out as Wayne doesn’t look totally steady on his feet, swaying just a little bit as he puts the mask on.


“Nonsense” King says dismissing the notion.


Wayne runs to the ring, arms out like an airplane as he runs down the steep ramp and then slides under the bottom rope into the ring.


”Well we can't salute ya

Can't find a flag

If that don't suit ya

That's a drag”




The fireworks explode around the ring as Wayne pops up on one knee and flexes his skinny arms like he was Hulk Hogan. Once the smoke dies down Wayne hops to his feet, then shakes his head as he sees six Germans holding up 5 foot tall cut out letters spelling out


I – N – N – I – T – ?


Not that it bothers him for too long, Alice Cooper’s rock classic is just impossible to resist and Wayne begins to play air guitar in the ring along with the music.


“Are we sure these two guys are actually brothers?” Mak asks.


“What are you insinuating? Are you saying that Mama Blank was a slut? I think both Bruce and Wayne would think them’s fighting words.” King counters hoping that Wayne actually heard the comments.


“I mean they’re about as different as night and day, Bruce more serious and aggressive in the ring – I can’t exactly say the same for Wayne” Mak explains.


”School's out for summer

School's out forever

School's been blown to pieces”


Wayne smashes his imaginary guitar against the ground as his music fades out making room for Funyon to do his spiel once more. When “Blitzkrieg Bop” kicks in Wayne goes over to one of the turnbuckles and leans against it like he’s bored or about to fall asleep.


“And his opponent the reigning Hardcore Gamer’s Champion”


“Ultraviolent” King pipes in


“From Nottingham, England this is SWF’s very own AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMY STEPHENS!!!” Funyon finishes before Amy even gets a chance to walk out on the ramp.


Moments later the curtains part and the Nottingham Lager Lass walks out, Hardcore title slung over the shoulder, barbwire crown on her head, beer in her hand, annoyed look on her face. Stopping only for a moment to shake her head at a “Marry me Amy” sign she quickly makes her way to the ring saying something to the camera that sounded kinda like


“Landon next time you put your hand on me I’ll break it off”


Only with Amy’s accent it’s hard to say if that’s what she really said of if she was just happy to be in Berlin or something. Amy quickly scales the turnbuckles, raises her can of Stella Artois with one hand and the Hardcore title in the other she begins to teach the Germans some class and sophistication







“They’re forming in straight line they’re going through a tight wind

The kids are losing their minds the blitzkrieg bop”


Funyon heads for the ropes, his work is done until he gets to announce the winner, but Wayne wakes from his slumber and then quickly snatches the microphone from Funyon while signaling for the music to be cut. Amy puts her beer and her title in the corner and then turns towards the Drunken Dragon.


“Hold up, hold up now I got to ask you a question girlie” Wayne says as the fans boo him “Now ya’ll are probably thinking what I’m thinking – do you wear the crown because you’re as smelly and useless as that old Queen of yours?”


Instead of a verbal reply Amy just marches over to him and then kicks his square in the nuts.






“And we’re under way with the traditional ringing of the testicles” Mak quips as Amy turns to the crowd as she holds her barbwire crown up in the air. .


“Are you sure she hit it? Wayne doesn’t look that bothered at all” King points out as Wayne Blank doesn’t do the traditional “Bending over crying while holding your nuts” reaction that usually follows a sharp kick to the testicles.


Wayne taps his groin area, making a slightly hollow plasticy sound as he taps his athletic cup and then shakes a finger at Amy. Of course “miss” Stephens doesn’t actually see this as she still has her back to Wayne expecting him to be crying and bawling like a baby. Wayne races forward, leaps up and knees on Amy’s shoulders with his feet behind her back and then he flips forward throwing the surprised Stephens half way across the ring.


“Man what speed!” King says.


“The only thing that did was piss Amy off, do you really want to do that?” Mak replies


Wayne quickly gets to his feet, then sails sideways a little bit as he waves to Amy and then raises his arms in the air like he won a gold medal or something. The Hardcore champion gets back to her feet and then waves at Wayne to come on. Then Wayne returns the gesture and waves for *AMY* to come on instead, an invitation Amy quickly takes as she rushes Wayne trying to either punch him or clothesline him, it’s not quite clear which as Wayne quickly rolls under her arms and then back up on his feet.


“Man this kid is FAST!” Mak says sounding slightly impressed.


“Whoa and devious” King adds as Wayne drop kicks Amy in the back sending her face and especially chest first into the turnbuckles




Wayne ignores the boos and keeps on attacking with a series of kicks to his opponent’s back, her lower back to be exact, where each kick sends Amy’s body into a convulsion of pain.


“That’s how you counter a low blow! Ovary kicks!” King says with a smile, about time someone paid these female wrestlers back for all the nut shots they’ve taken over the years


“There is no call for that King!” Mak laments.


“Hey she kicked HIM first, I say all is fair in love and nut kickery!”


After kicking Amy 4 or 5 times in the ovaries Wayne backs off her as she’s in the ropes. Of course Wayne isn’t one for listening to the referee, he takes after his brother in that regard, so the moment Amy is back on her feet Wayne goes on the offence again with a running start. Wayne grabs Amy by her hair, then leaps over the top rope while still holding on to her hair and drops down to the floor. Amy’s entire body snaps backwards after her throat comes down on the top rope and she flips head over elbow ending up on her stomach in the middle of the ring. Wayne leaps up on the apron, then runs down along it to give him enough speed to quickly run up the turnbuckles on the outside and then flip into the ring with a twisting leg drop to the back of Amy’s head.


“HOLY CRAP!! Did he file a flight plan before the match started” King quips impressed with the high flying action so far.


“I don’t remember Amy facing a high flier like Wayne in her time in the SWF – she’s mainly kept to brawlers and a little teaming with Bruce. . . until that went south” Mak adds, trying to sound insightful.


“You also have to remember that this is really only Wayne’s second match in the SWF, his firsts regular match – no one has been able to prepare for his style.” King adds sounding even more insightful.


Wayne climbs the turnbuckles while looking around at the crowd, then he stops about half way up, changes his mind and gets down again. To the confusion of everyone in the crowd Wayne leaves the ring, then removes his mask and approaches a young woman in the front row with a wide grin on his face. The young woman looks a little uncomfortable as Wayne nonchalantly leans against the guardrail and then begins to talk to her


“Well helloooo there” He says as he tries to sound as charming and suave as possible.


“What the hell is he doing?” Mak asks as Wayne begins to talk to the girl instead of focusing on the match.


“He obviously likes what he’s seeing Mak” King says.


“Yeah but there is a match going on! This isn’t a dating service!” Mak replies.


But Wayne seems to have totally lost focus on the match and is busy talking to the blonde woman in the front row making all sorts of advances at her that she tries her best to ignore and look dis-interested. That’s the problem when you’ve been drinking a bit though – subtle “fuck off” signs are ignored or worse taken as interest and Wayne seems to make that mistake as well.


“Alright he does need to pay attention here, Amy is back on her feet” King says as the Hardcore champion gets back on her feet.


“Back on her feet and pissed off” Mak corrects him.


Wayne keeps ignoring the match in progress as he keeps talking to the girl at ringside, he doesn’t even notice that Amy has left the ring and is standing behind him now, tapping him on the shoulder


“In a minute I’m busy” Wayne says offhandedly as he waves off whomever is behind him.


Amy taps him on the shoulder once again to get his attention but once more she’s dismissed with the wave of a hand as the younger Blank brother is on the make. Amy’s third tap isn’t nearly as gentle as the first two, but then again a double axe handle Polish Hammer right between the shoulder blades is a very effective way of getting someone’s attention




The impact knocks Wayne forward, sending him chest first into the guardrail to a huge pop from the crowd. Then the girl in the front row stands up, opens up her jacket and shows off her Amy Stephens T-Shirt and then high fives her idol.


“Damn lesbians! They’re everywhere” King mutters in disgust.


“You know I’d love to know why there hasn’t been a count so far, Wayne was outside the ring for quite a while” Mak says


“Erm *cough*quiet*cough* - oh dear I got to take something for that cough” King quickly interjects.


With Wayne pinned down against the guardrail Amy quickly connects Van with scrawny chest over and over again as she tries to stomp the proverbial mudhole in Wayne Blank much to the delight of the crowd.




“See he’s been counting all along he’s just not very loud” King says as the referee finally speaks up






Amy casually rolls under the bottom rope and then back out again quickly breaking the count so that she can return to kicking Wayne’s ass. She quickly puts the man sometimes known as the Drunken Dragon down with a well placed headbutt right across the bridge of the nose.




Then she grabs her opponent and rolls him under the bottom rope, keeping his head draped over the edge. Amy grabs Wayne by the head and tilts it backwards and then she brings down a vicious elbow right on Wayne’s throat making him gag and gasp for air as he clutches his throat in pain. Amy slides under the bottom rope and for the first time tonight actually smiles as she’s got the situation well in hand.


“That cold sadistic bitch!” King says


“Why? What?” Mak asks all confused, after all Amy’s actions weren’t that outlandish.


“How can you ask me that? Wayne was in the hospital for 2-3 weeks after his match with the Insane Luchador – with NECK DAMAGE! She knows that and she’s obviously trying to cripple him here.” King replies with a level of righteous indignation not heard since Longdogger Pete got taken off the air.


“I think you’re giving Amy more credit for preparing than she deserves, she probably saw the last name Blank and figured she’d beat him like she beat his brother and left the preparations at that” Mak points out


The moment Wayne is back on his feet the Nottingham Lager Lass grabs him by the mask, leaps up and tugs her knees in as she falls backwards onto the mat.




The Face Breaker is executed perfectly as Wayne’s head slams down against her knees and then whips backwards in pain from the high impact move. Amy stops Wayne from rolling around on the ground with an elbow drop, followed by another elbow drop and then a third one that drives the point of her elbow into Wayne’s sternum. After the elbow drops Amy heads over to the corner of the ring, grabs her can of Stella Artois and takes a drink from it.


“Come on now, alcohol and wrestling shouldn’t mix” King admonishes.


“Oh yeah? Tell Wayne that cause he OBVIOUSLY had a few before the match too” Mak counters pointing out the hypocrisy in the Suicide King’s statement.


After putting the can back in the corner Amy turns around and zeroes in on Wayne Blank once more, lurking behind his back as he staggers back to his feet. Then she grabs one of his arms and hooks it from behind, then she hooks the other arm like she was going for a backslide and tries to hook her hands together.


“Oh lord here comes one of those stupid elaborate moves that her brother probably taught her” King groans.


Wayne reacts instinctively to the backslide position and pulls forward himself actually lifting Amy up in the air, straddled across his back as the Drunken Dragon raises his opponent up in the air. Then Wayne bends even further forward, probably holing to backslide Amy down but instead ends up tripping and falling to his knees unceremoniously dropping Amy Stephens.


“I told you he had a few too many” Mak says.


“No one likes a smart ass Mak” King replies while secretly plotting to let the air out of Mak’s tires before the night is over.


Wayne is quickly back on his feet and then for some strange reason does the “Walking Man” for a second before turning his attention back to Amy Stephens. Pretty soon the Walking Man is turned into the Irish Whipped man as Amy tosses the younger Blank brother into the corner with enough force to knock him off his feet, where he ends up slumping back against the bottom turnbuckle.




“Oh you know what’s coming now” Mak says excitedly, King just groans in reply.


Amy raises a hand in the air to signal the Bronco Buster, then she races from corner to corner and leaps ready to sit viciously sit down on Wayne’s chest.






The women in the audience all instinctively moan in sympathy with Amy Stephens as she came down, not on Wayne’s chest but on his outstretched foot. . . right between her wide spread legs. . . Yeah THAT place.


“Strike a blow for equality Wayne” King says and grins.


“You’re such a caveman King” Mak says


“Hey I could have made a joke about how Wayne’s boot just got sucked into an enormous bottomless void but I refrained from doing so, I’m a cultured sophisticated man” King counters.


For once it’s a woman who sinks to her knees while holding whatever is between her legs, her eyes getting watery from the pain. Wayne quickly follows up his “foot to the groin” move by planting that very same foot square in Amy’s face, knocking her down. Then Wayne quickly gets back to his feet, shakes his head and then turns his attention towards the corner where Amy left the Hardcore title laying.


“Where the hell is Wayne going now?” King asks as Wayne gets up after knocking Amy down and heads towards a different corner of the ring.


“The Hardcore title! He’s going right for the belt that’s laying in the corner” Mak says already firing up his “morally indignant” voice.


“Oh like Wayne would need to cheat” King says making millions of viewers slap their heads in despair.


But Wayne isn’t going for the belt, he’s going for the beer instead. Wayne grabs the open and half empty can of Stella Artois, then he pulls up his mask to clear his mouth and takes a swig from the can. A swig he quickly turns around and spits out




“Man this shit sucks” Wayne says out loud and then throws the can of beer over his shoulder into the crowd.


“See Wayne is a beer aficionado, he doesn’t like the cheap swill that Amy drinks” the Suicide King points out.


There are a few things you just do not do to Amy – and touching HER beer is one of them, touching her beer and THEN bad mouthing it is another one, and Wayne just did both. The young Stephens sibling is quickly back on her feet with a wild look in her eyes as she stares at Wayne. When the Drunken Dragon tries to punch her she just shakes it off like it was nothing, then he strikes her again but once more she shakes it off before raising her hand in the air.


“YOOOOOOOOOOU!!” the crowd chants as she points at Wayne who backs off a little.


But it doesn’t matter as Amy quickly attacks him with a series of punches to the face, finishing off with a headbut that sends Wayne crashing to the mat. Then she turns around and does a “drinking motion” to pop the crowd




“SHE’S BEERING UP KING!!” Mak yells out, getting into the spirit of the match.


“Oh brother” King says, not in reference to Toxxic mind you.


Amy keeps up her frenzied attack as she leaps on Wayne and starts to let her fists rain down on Wayne fast and furious as the younger Blank brother tries his best to cover his face up with his hands and arms ending up with her alternating between elbowing Wayne in the ribs and hitting him in the face as the crowd goes nuts




Amy quickly gets to her feet and pulls Wayne up by the mask, then she grabs the red fabric of the mask and begins to twist it towards the right until it’s turned totally sideways so that Wayne can’t see anything at all. Wayne staggers around and swings wildly trying to hit Amy but missing every time as Amy easily avoids it.


“Now who’s a cheating bastard?” King asks.


“That’d still be Wayne, the mask isn’t illegal” Mak says


Every time Wayne reaches for the mask Amy rushes in and punches him, then she grabs him and whips him hard into the corner back first followed by a stiff elbow to the face as Amy leaps on her temporarily blinded opponent. Amy backs up a couple of steps and then leaps at Wayne once more


Only to strike the referee!!


Wayne quickly pulled him in between them as he blindly grabbed anything and everything he could get his hands on and thus the referee got sandwiched between Amy and Wayne and knocked out from the surprise and the force of Amy’s elbow. Amy only gives the referee a sideways glance before she attacks Wayne once more putting him in the rear naked choke as he tries to straighten up his mask.


“LAST ORDERS!! She’s almost got it on, this one is DONE!” Mak states


“Calm down man, it’s not quite the Last Orders just yet – don’t count Wayne out just yet” King admonishes Mak


And almost as on cue Wayne fights back against the rear choke and drives backwards with both his feet pushing both Amy and himself into the ropes, sending them flipping through the ropes with the choke still on. The momentum means that Amy is the one taking most of the impact when they slam down on the edge of the apron and then flip down on the floor.


“Did I tell you or did I tell you?” King says with a smug grin.


“Alright, alright so you were right – ONCE!” Mak counters.


Wayne’s desperation move got him out of the rear naked choke move and also gives him enough of a break to straightens his mask and get his eyesight back. A moment later the masked man is back on his feet right in front of Mak and King as he gets some distance to Amy who’s still flat on the mat.


“Where is he going now? The boy needs to focus on the ma-“




Mak is interrupted by a boot to the face as Wayne Blank super kicks the Franchise clear out of his wheelchair to the surprise of everyone (including the Suicide King) Then he reaches down and pulls of Mak’s headphones, whips off his mask and then sits down in Mak Francis’ wheelchair.


“You know King in my expert opinion as the “Franchise” of the SWF” Wayne starts in a mock “Howard Cosell” voice as he sits next to King at the commentator table.


“Did I ever tell you that I like what you did with your hair Mak” King quips, playing along with the joke.


Amy slowly pulls herself up to her feet and then looks around for Wayne Blank.


“When Amy joined the SWF my first thought was “Mak” – I call myself Mak when I think. I said “Mak, who the hell thought it was a good idea to sign that pig faced Kelly Osbourne to a contract” Wayne comments, a comment that cracks King up so much that he doesn’t even reply.


Amy walks right past the announcers table, not even really looking at King or Mak (well Wayne) but instead she’s cautiously checking around to make sure Wayne isn’t hiding somewhere ready to attack her.


“You know *MAK* I can’t believe that this girl thinks she can beat Wayne Blank, she can’t even find him!” King says and laughs.


“You know I heard someone call her stupid, but that’s not true – she’s British it’s a genetic disorder” Wayne counters and chuckles.


A chuckle that Amy recognizes as she whips around and looks straight at Wayne in surprise. Wayne stands up, takes off his headset and then drops it on Mak who’s still on the ground and can’t get up on his own. Amy approaches the announcing table but before she can attack Wayne the vile man from Alabama pushes the table forward driving the edge of it into Amy’s mid section knocking her down.


“Man that’s got to be the first time announce table fought back!” King says and laughs as Wayne quickly climbs up on the announce table.


Wayne quickly leaps from the table up onto the apron, then he puts a foot on the middle rope to help him flip over his own head and come down with a splash on Amy. Moments after Wayne connects the referee finally regains his senses and begins to count them both out of the ring.




But Wayne isn’t about to lose a match on a count out and quickly rolls his opponent back inside the ring before leaping up on the apron again.


“Man he’s got more spring in him than a super ball” King says as two road agents help Mak Francis get back in his wheelchair.


“God damn son of a bi. . . “ Mak mutters as he puts his headset back on.


“What were you doing on the floor Mak? You’re such a messy man” King jokes.


“Oh very funny”


“I try”


With Amy on her back in the middle of the ring Wayne quickly climbs up on the top turnbuckle with a hand triumphantly raised in the air. Then he takes 3 steps across the top rope! Even in his slightly inebriate and slightly wobbly state Wayne manages to walk across the top rope for a few moments before springboarding off


Well maybe not springboarding as much as misstepping on the last step and flipping off sideways by accident.


“HA!” Mak says harshly


“Man you’re so biased it’s not even funny Mak” King quickly points out.


“He had it coming, he’s been taking stupid risks all night and guess what? Stupid risks sometimes backfire” Mak replies.


And Mak was right, Wayne had taken a chance, a stupid chance and now he’s on the ground after slamming down shoulder and neck first missing Amy by at least a foot. Miss Stephens gets back to her feet after regaining some composure, then she assesses the situation and climbs up on the second turnbuckle after a “That’s it” gesture




“Will we see a Vodka Kick off the second rope King?”


“What am I the Amazing Kreskin? How should I know” King replies indignantly.


Amy waits on the ropes as Wayne gets to his knees and then manages to get up on one foot. When he’s in the perfect position for Amy’s needs she leaps off the ropes with her right leg raised high in the air ready to bring it down across the back Wayne’s head.




Nothing but canvas!!


Wayne quickly steps in, hooks Amy’s legs under his arms and then drags her over towards one of the corners. Once he’s in position Wayne lets his entire body fall backwards letting his momentum raise Amy up in the air tossing her up against the turnbuckles, with her head actually striking the top of the ringpost






Amy staggers backwards after striking her head on top of the ringpost and hardly even reacts when Wayne quickly pulls his Dragon head mask off and then pulls it down over Amy’s head BACKWARDS covering both her eyes with the red fabric.


“Okay someone needs to take that mask away, it’s like a foreign object in there” Mak complains


“Yeah it’s probably Mexican or something” King quips


The boos are quickly silenced as Wayne runs to the turnbuckles and then runs UP them in a gravity defying stunt, not even pausing on the top rope before he flips backwards in a Moonsault position managing to grab Amy around the head on the way down




“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!” King yells out.


“You don’t know what that was King?” Mak asks, slightly confused because the King has called many a cruiserweight match in his time.


“No that’s what it’s called idiot” King snaps at him as Wayne takes a half second to pull the mask of Amy and then back on himself before covering her.





“Bruce will never let her hear the end of it!” Mak says






“Damn right!” King says as the referee’s hand sails through the air for the third time and





You can hear a pin drop when Soapdish’s hand hits the ground for the 3rd time, the crowd is stunned that Bruce’s little brother has been able to do what Bruce couldn’t do. Wayne leaps to his feet and then jumps up on the turnbuckles to celebrate boisterously – almost a little too boisterously as he’s about to flip over the top rope but manages to hang on instead of making an ass of himself. . . again.


“The winner of the match, the Drunken Dragon WAYNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!!” Funyon says to break the silence and well also because it’s his job of course.


“Well. . . erm. . . she’s the Hardcore champion King, this isn’t her type of match” Mak says making feeble excuses.


“Speaking of Hardcore champion” King says as Wayne eyes the Hardcore title still in the corner of the ring.


Wayne walks over and picks up the title and looks at it for a moment, then he turns and looks at the camera while pointing to the belt.


“You see this? It’s coming back to us, it’ll be back in the family soon” Wayne says and then drops the Hardcore title next to Amy before flipping over the top rope to the floor to take a victory lap around the ring as Aftershock goes off the air.

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