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SWF Smarkdown 5/22/2006

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...
LIVE, or maybe TAPED, Monday, May 22nd, from the... sold out(?)... Phimai historical park in Phimai, Thailand!
(6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)


Sean Davis, Amy Stephens & Michael Stephens vs "The Superior One" Tom Flesher, Charlie "Grappler" Matthews

->Why am I booking this match? Because I'm Keith Hernandez, motherfucker.

The Artist Formerly Known As Toxxic, his kid sister, and Sean Davis are all buddy-buddy, despite the plunking Davis got from Mike on the last show. Why don't we put that little love-in to the test? Mikey says he's not going to give Landon Maddix the satisfaction of facing him - and that's fine, because we can find plenty of other options. Like how about the greatest wrestler in the history of the SWF? And another former world champion!? In a shocking twist, Charlie Matthews is back, and in league with the recently returned Superior One? Is this new team really "Magnificent"? Or are they more Malox-worthy? While Tom match against Wildchild was certainly enough to give him indigestion, that remains to be seen, with another huge test coming up.
Rules: Standard tag team match, albeit with a three-on-two advantage for the Stephens clan. Only two people can be in the ring at any time. Mind the tag ropes.

JJ Johnson© vs Aecas

->JJ Johnson is the Internation Title champeen, and Wildchild is apparently none too happy about that. Aecas, on the other hand, is freshly returned and running a two match winning streak. JJ has requested a shot at the large Briton, because the bigger they are, the harder he kills. Oooohhh.
Rules: Standard singles match.

Zyon© vs Bloodshed

->Zyon, the new two time! two time! Cruiserweight champion gets a night off - in a manner of speaking. He takes on Bloodshed under cruiserweight rules, in what should be a cruiserweight match, but without his cruiserweight title on the line. You can be sure, though, that if Bloodshed wins, that will not be the case when this is recontested in the future.
Rules: Cruiserweight rules.

Manson vs Akira Kaibatsu

->If at first you don't succeed, try, try again, right? Except, this time, it's going to be for a different title. Manson, last time I looked, was one half of the tag champions. I read on the last card that the honour of being Mr. Justin Johnson's luggage now belongs to Spike. Interesting. Anyway, Manson holds or has held some titles very recently, so here's a chance for another one.
Rules: None. Duh.

Stryke vs Matt Myers

->Is Stryke alive? Any more than he usually is, I mean? Well, we'll find out here, in the opening match for Smarkdown. And don't think there's not any bad blood here: Despite the fact he hasn't been active since 2003, Matt Myers has bested Stryke in the SWF Superstar rankings for three straight months! The Australian has the opportunity to regain some of his lost dignity, and answer that burning question: If we made Wildchild a booker, would he post entire shows in teal?
Rules: Standard singles match. Matt Myers' gimmick is completely up to Stryke, or whoever ends up writing.

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We return from a commercial break to give the Suicide King and Mak Francis a bit of face time before the next match starts.


“Fans if you can recall a few weeks ago the SWF was in Russia” Mak starts out


“I sure can, the women had bigger moustaches than the men” King says obviously throwing Mak’s train of thought off.


“Erm. . . indeed” Mak says and then clears his throat “But besides that “fascinating” fact we also saw Bruce Blank take the Vodka test to see if he had recovered enough from his Pandemonium match”


“He passed it too Mak!” King points out


“Yes and then he disappeared, just dropped off the face of the earth and no one has hard a word from him since then. That is until this morning where a package arrived with 5 tapes and a note that said these would explain what happened to Bruce Blank and where he’s been all this time”


“Paris!” King yells out




“I bet that’s where he’s been, that’s where I’d be – I mean the women there are so loose that you could-“


But before King can explain just HOW loose the Parisian women are we cut to the video tape. A surveillance tape from backstage at the show in Russia, Bruce is passed out on a gurney snoring loudly as a doctor tries to check his vital signs.


*ZZZZZZZZZZZ-Huh!* Bruce actually feels something as the doctor tries to listen to Bruce’s heart with his stethoscope.


“Is okay Amerikanski, I am trying to listen to your hear”


“Whuzza? You’re trying to what to the who now” Bruce says as he sits up, still very much drunk and now also in an extremely foul mood as his mouth tastes like someone wiped their feet on his tongue.


“Is okay, I am doctor” the doctor reassures Bruce as he tries to check the big man’s vital signs.


“Hey, hey, hey get your damn hands off me Scooter!” Bruce yells out and pushes the much smaller doctor away, a move that gets the attention of the policemen standing by outside the door.


“Come on sir, I am here to help you” the doctor pleads


“Help THIS!” Bruce says and then swats at the doctor with a back handed fist.


“Stop that at once!!” one of the policemen yells at Bruce to keep him from hitting the doctor again. Of course if Bruce was capable of taking orders he probably wouldn’t even be in that state so what does he do?




“Alright that’s it, you’re under arrest” the cop informs Bruce.


“Oh yeah?? You and what army!” Bruce says as he raises both his fists with a stupid grin on his face


“This one” is all the cop says as he points to the 5 men behind him.


“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH crap!” famous last words from the Trailerpark Messiah as the six police officers jump on him and take him to the ground before the tape runs out and we return to Mak and King.


“So Bruce got arrested in Russia? Why am I not surprised” Mak says.


“Yeah but where is he now?” King asks.


“I dunno, for all I know he could be in Siberia – maybe one of the other tapes will tell us of his fate. Stay tuned for more”

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”As you all probably witnessed earlier on, it turns out that Bruce Blank was arrested when the SWF was in Russia and not shacked up in some French whore house like SOMEONE said” Mak says and glares at the Suicide King


“No, no, no I said that’s where I would be” King explains.


“Aaaaaaaaaaaanyway, as we told you earlier we received 5 tapes in the main this morning”


“Why do you keep reminding them?” King says curtly “the SWF fans turn to Smarkdown from the start and stay through to the end!! Don’t talk to them like they don’t” King says but is totally ignored by Mak.


“So here now is the second tape, hopefully that will answer the question of where the hell Bruce Blank is now”


*Roll Tape*


We see Wayne Blank backstage after the show is over, it’s mostly empty and dark as Wayne looks around trying to find his brother.


“Hey BRUCE!!” he yells out but there isn’t any answer at all.


Wayne keeps searching, checking rooms as he goes along until he sees Bruce’s cowboy hat on the floor, probably knocked off him when he was arrested. He bends over and picks up the hat, staring at it like it was an ancient artifact that he just unearthed. Worry quickly creeps into his eyes as he looks at the hat, Bruce would NEVER leave his hat behind. Wayne quickly turns on his heels and then heads for Joseph Peters’ office with the cowboy hat in his hands.


“Hey Peters!!” Wayne yells as he barges into the office.


“I’m busy, go away”


Wayne just stands there and looks at Peters for a moment, he doesn’t look busy and well Wayne is not the kind of man to take a hint that subtle.


“Yeah I can see that. Look what happened to Bruce?”


“He got drunk and passed out?” Peters says wondering if Wayne even watched the show.


“No I mean he’s gone, he’s not here and something bad happened to him” Wayne says


Peters doesn’t really seem to pay attention, or maybe he just doesn’t care – the jury is still out on that one.


“I’m serious! You need to do something!”


*sigh* “And you’re sure something happened?”




If Wayne didn’t know any better he’d say that Peters actually smiled at that.


“Alright, alright he probably got himself arrested or something – it’s not the first time THAT has happened after all. I’ll call the police and check it out”


Peters picks up the phone and calls the local police, being wise from experience Peters has made a point of always looking up the number of the local police before each show.


“Yeah I need to find out if one of my workers have been arrested by you tonight. . . no I’m not Russian. Yes I’ll hold” he says with no great desire to actually hold while some horrible version of t.A.t.U’s “All the things she said” plays.


“Yes hello Joseph Peters, CEO of the SWF. I’m trying to find out if you arrested one of my workers tonight. . . Bruce Blank. . . yes I’ll hold” he says once more, with even LESS desire to hold, especially when “All the things she said” comes back on.


“Yes hello Joseph Peters, CEO of the SWF. I’m trying to find out if you arrested one of my workers tonight. . . Bruce Blank. . . No I don’t think he would have been arrested for terrorism . . . *sigh* Yes I’ll hold” Peters says as he tries his best to not curse out loud. Then “All the things she said” plays again




“Yes hello Joseph Peters, CEO of the SWF pleasedon’tputmeonhold! I need some information about one of my workers. His name is Bruce Blank . . . Ah. . . yes I see. Thank you”




“So?” Wayne asks.


“Nope nothing, they haven’t arrested anyone here tonight” Peters says totally deadpan.


“Bullshit! I mean unless he was kidnapped I don’t know where the hell he’d go”


“Yeah well. . . not my problem”


“Not your problem? He could be seriously injured or worse man!!”


“Man. . . that would be a shame wouldn’t it” Peters says with absolutely no sincerity indicating that the conversation is over and Wayne should feel free to leave.


“I need some divine intervention” Wayne says and then leaves as the tape fades out.


“Divine Intervention? What the heck does he mean by that?” Mak says


“Again with the stupid questions! I mean do I look like I’m a mind reader?” King replies as Smarkdown goes to another commercial break.

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“Protect Ya Neck” plays. Akira enters. Yay!


“Crusher Destroyer” hits. Manson enters. Boo!




Manson is no match for Akira’s speed. Kaibatsu with hit-and-run strikes. He manages to catch and plant Kaibatsu with a belly-to-belly.




A bit of mounted punching. Manson picks Akira up. Avoiding Manson’s attack, Akira knocks him down. EXCITING MAT WRESTLING! Kaibatsu dominates. Manson fights his way out like the manly man he is. YAKUZA KICK! Punts on the ground by Manson.


Kaibatsu is sent out of the ring. Whip into the steps by Manson. He finds a chair. Swing. Miss. Kick into the chair by Kaibtsu and into Manson’s face, knocking him over the barrier and into the crowd. Fighting amongst the fans. Manson dominates the brawl, takes Kabatsu back over the barrier. Rolls him in. Picks up chair again. Slides it in. Digs a table out from underneath the ring. Slides that in. He heads in, Kaibatsu tries for a Shining Gamengiri. Manson catches his leg. Throws it down as he stands. Counter Gamengiri of his own! Kaibatsu goes down.






Manson puts Akira on the top rope. Muscle Buster attempt. Akira breaks free. Boot to the face. Headscissors. He hooks the arms. IT CAME FROM SENDAI!








Akira stands. Kobe tells him to go for the table. He sets it up in the middle of the ring. Attempt at the It Came From Sendai. Manson struggles and breaks free, back bodydropping Akira off him. Akira stands. Manson bashes him with the chair. Headscissors. He lifts Akira up onto his shoulders and runs at the table.













Meltzer said so.



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”We’re back!” King says quickly as Mak is distracted by scratching his . . . lower abdomen.


“Ah-hem yes welcome back fans” Mak says while trying to cover up what he was doing.


“Ignore Mr. Itchy Sack over here and instead let us take you away to a mystical far away country where we’ll hopefully find out what is up with Bruce.”


“Italy isn’t mystical” Mak says trying to rain on the Suicide King’s parade


*Roll Tape*


We’re quite rightly in Italy, Rome to be precise, the Vatican, a church. . . the 3rd confessional booth from the right (that’s all the details you’re getting)


We see Wayne enter the booth and then sit down waiting for the little slide door to be opened. After a moment it is and the priest on the other side whispers to him.


“Confess your sins my son”


“Forgive me father for I am about to sin, it’s been forever since my last confession” Wayne says with a grin.


“About to sin? Son the lord can only forgive you if you have already sinned”


“Really Well I once killed a man with a pancake just because I could”


“. . . “


“Then I ate the pancake” Wayne says and sniggers


“. . . Wayne Blank you son of a bitch!” it comes from the Priest’s side of the confessional and the little mesh is pulled to the side so that he can get a clear look at Wayne.


“Rev! Still pulling the old religious scam I see” Wayne says and shakes the old man’s hand.


“Man I haven’t seen you in about a year or so, not since that job in Atlanta went wrong. And yes I am, people tell their priest everything after all” Rev says and taps his priest’s collar.


“Where is Clem?” Wayne asks obviously referring to another member of their little gang.


“Where do you think he is? I keep them here for a very confession and penance and he cleans out their cars. But you didn’t come here just to talk about old times right?”


“No – Bruce is in trouble” Wayne says as his voice turns serious.


“Trouble? He in jail?”


“Kinda, I found out that he’s been arrested and placed in a mental asylum” Wayne explains.


“Oh lord.”


“In Russia”


“Oh crap, I heard those places are hell.” Rev says


“I know, that’s why I need to get him out of there as soon as possible. I need you and Clem.” Wayne pleads


“Of course Wayne, of course – you have but to ask. Why don’t you give me the name of that place and I’ll see what I can find out. Then you, me and Clem will sit down and figure out a plan”


“Yeah a plan, good idea” Wayne says with a smile.


*Fade Out*

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SWF SMARKDOWN returns to the sold out Phimai Historical Park where the onlookers have chosen the SWF product over a pick up game of stickball. The Thailand audience welcomes the cameras with cheers as the Franchise, Mak Francis and the Gambling Man, Suicide King are set to call the action.


“So next up King the NEW SWF Cruiser…”


“SHUT UP! Mak I’ve never hit a cripple before, but if you mention that Zyon is a two time champion, I will be forced to finish the job that Spike started. For the love of god, Mak. Can we just have a cruiserweight match without the needless prologue? Here I’ll make it short for you. Zyon is the new Cruiserweight Champion, and tonight he takes on the radical Bloodshed in a non title affair. Now can we let Funyon take over while I engulf as much alcohol as possible in a thirty second span?” The Gambling Man seems to be in a foul mood tonight, or just for the moment.


And Mak doesn’t make it any better, “Actually, King I can’t hand our into off to Funyon yet. Firstly, that would be breaking the script, which is breaking KAYFABE!!! And we just can’t do that. Second, all the alcohol you packed away has been replaced with DY-NO-MITE! The new SWF sponsored energy drink that pops such a wallop that yes, you can internally combust if you have too much. Remember kids, if it’s not SPOTASTIC, then it’s not (Clap Clap) DY-NO-MITE!!”


“Mak…you make me feel emo…TO FUNYON!”


“The next match is for one fall with a SIXTY MINUTE time limit and will be NON TITLE!”


Funyon’s growl can be heard all the way back into the grandstands. However, the first competitor’s music can’t be heard by anyone including a dog THAT SHOULDN’T BE IN THE PARK IN THE FIRST PLACE!



Spooking the audience a bit, the SWF seemingly controls time as the night’s sky swallows what light was left in the dusk. Staring down the entrance ramp for the reborn Alan Clark, many miss the crimson red spotlight that appears in the center of the ring. Referee Ken Masters is quick to point out with a wild backpedal and a nervous extension of his index finger that Bloodshed has arrived.


“First, hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada. Weighing in tonight at 230 lbs. He is the Apostle…BLOODSHED!”


The enlarged ring announcer shouts as the nearby audience cheers on one of their favorites who openly despises the popularity. Removing his lengthy trench coat, Bloodshed stares down the entrance ramp as a few familiar phrases appear across the Smarktron.




…Hopefully by now you know the whole spiel. “Vitamin” by Incubus echoes across the historical park of Phimai as the Cruiserweight Champion makes his way down to the ring to the joy of everyone in attendance.


“And his opponent, hailing from Elkhart, Indiana. Weighing in at 200 lbs. He is the Unique Youth. He is the reigning SWF Cruiserweight Champion. He is…Zyyyyyyyon!!”


Funyon screeches as the Unique Youth bounds down the entrance ramp, smacking the hands of those who chant his name religiously. Rolling into the ring, Zyon perches himself on to the second rope, forming an “X” over his head. Gradually, the champ breaks the “X” as he bends his elbows at an elevated position, soaking in all the glory that comes with being a fan favorite…


…Glory that Bloodshed wants no part of.


Dropping back down to the canvas, Zyon hands his title off to referee Ken Masters who hands it off to Funyon.


“Referee Ken Masters is this match’s official. I mention this because he was contacted at the last moment due to our previous ref being deported out of Thailand.”


“That’s right Mak. I’m sure nobody cares about some lone zebra, but this…Ru…Ry…Ryu feller was really hated in these parts. Personally I would save the acts of terrorism of Landon Maddix, but that’s just me.” King sighs at the unorganized hate around the world…it should be focused on Landon.




Referee Ken Masters starts the somewhat anticipated non title bout between the current champion and the possible number one contender. Bouncing out from his corner, Zyon comes out swinging for the fences with a right hand that Bloodshed blocks…with his face! Enamored by the stinging sensation that surrounds his cheek, Alan Clark’s devilish alter ego challenges the youth to take another shot at him. Reeling back, Zyon slams another right hand into the cocky Apostle’s face! Slightly enraged by Bloodshed’s challenge for minor torture, Zyon fires off multiple right and lefts that send Bloodshed reeling against the ropes….with a smile on his face.


“Zyon has really came out strong during the opening moments of this contest!”


“Mak you fool! Are you blind too? Alan Clark has about the widest grin I have ever seen across his face. Zyon is just wasting his time.”


Pounding on his methodical opponent, Zyon latches on to Bloodshed’s arm, whipping him across the ring with an Irish whip! Refusing to play with his apparent victim any longer, Bloodshed counters tossing the youth into the far ropes. Bouncing back with the sure bet ability to take advantage of Alan Clark’s dubious arrogance, Zyon attempts a forearm strike.




Missing due to a Bloodshed sidestep, Zyon is unable to unlatch the hand that squeezes the back of his neck. The Apostle on the other hand releases with little qualms as he sends Zyon forward…


…Over the top rope…






Looking into mysterious eyes of the evil competitor, referee Ken Masters stares at Zyon who looks a bit shocked as he begins to climb back into the ring…






Ok that’s not too bad.




Ok that is. Let’s put the blame on Funyon who makes everything official.


“Due to the Cruiserweight Addenda. Bloodshed is disqualified for purposely throwing Zyon over the top rope and to the floor. Thus the winner, ZYON!”


Usually accompanied by the Unique Youth’s victories would be mad cheering, but this time…




Oh man this is getting bad. Clutching his title, Zyon wonders up the ramp just as disappointed as the jeering fans. Bloodshed just watches on knowing that there are many wars that remain to be waged.


“Well that was gay…”


The Gambling Man mumbles as the SWF FADES TO IwishIhadmoretimetowriteBLACK

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“Alright fans you’ve seen Bruce get arrested, we’ve learned that he was put in a mental asylum for lord knows what reason” King starts out


“Oh I can guess why” Mak says and then makes a “whacko” hand gesture


“And we’ve seen Wayne go find two of his old buddies. It’s time to see why he went to Italy to find the guy known as Rev and just who Clem is.


Roll Tape


Wayne, Rev and Clem are all huddled up in a dark room somewhere sitting around a table where Rev has rolled out a set of blue prints. **


“Alright guys this is where they’re keeping Bruce” Rev points at a spot on the blueprint marked with the number 4775 “and let me tell you it’s not a nice place at all – I’ve heard rumors of medical experiments and Electro shock therapy” Rev says and chomps down on the cigar in the corner of his mouth.


“It’s going to get dangerous isn’t it? I can feel it” Clem moans not really looking forward to it all.


“It’s not going to be dangerous, I’ve got it all timed and planned out – trust me. We just need the right equipment and we’re good to go” Rev says as Wayne studies the blue prints.


Clem pulls out a note pad, he is the “fixer” of the group, the man who could get anything for them and waits for Rev to tell them what they need.


“Are we going to use the Seattle Shake’em?” Wayne asks


“We can’t Wayne, we need Bruce for that one remember?” Rev replies


“Oh yeah. And the Memphis Eel-roll is out too, we needed Bruce to get in the guys face and belittle him while we stuffed eels in his pockets” Wayne says reminiscing about past exploits.


“Man we’ve had some good times haven’t we?” Rev says with a smile.


“And we will again, the gang will be back together again.”


“You mean Trixie is coming too?” Clem says with a hopeful smile.


“She divorced Bruce remember?” Wayne says


“Guys? Guys can we get to the plan? I need a few things for this to work so pay attention” Rev says stopping the walk down memory lane to focus on the plan.


“Alright gimme the list” Clem says as he puts the pen to paper.


“Alright first of all we need three ninja suits, our sizes.”


“Alright *notes down* 2 regular size ninja suits and one XXXL”


“We also need duct tape”


“Oh we always need duct tape” Wayne comments


“Extendo arm”, a measuring tape, a Polaroid camera, a remote controlled toy tank with a small camera on it, a bag of BBs, gloves for all of us, a fishing rod with the reel and all” Rev lists


“What do you have in mind?” Clem asks.


“The easiest way in is to have the key, so that’s what we’re getting” Rev explains.


“Alright, alright Need anything else??” Clem asks


“A cigar and a firecracker I think that’s it – no wait I also need a VERY stinky cheese and a small battery operated fan”


Wayne looks at Rev like he lost his ever-loving mind but Clem just says “Alright I can get that together pretty quickly.”


“Then our mission starts tonight at 1:12 AM”


* Fade Out*

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Suddenly the area goes quiet as the SmarkTron fades into life. Filling the screen, along with a small “LIVE FROM PITTSBURGH” message is the massively tattooed face of Va’aiga, the Maori Badass. Staring intently down the camera lens his end, the Maori addresses the Thai crowd, his voice deep and growling and his strong North Island accent laced with vitriol and hatred.


Va’aiga: JOHNSON! JOHNSON! I know you’re watching this so listen up and listen good. Point 1. Never dis’ a brother’s puku, it’s a sign of good health. Point 2 and more important, running your mouth, showing off your jerkwadtanga, you just landed yourself in a whole heap of trouble.


The Maori pauses before continuing.


Va’aiga: See J3, It goes a little like this. I’m here holding my gold, you’re over there holding yours, and that’s cool. Since I left Cleveland there’s been a ton of changes, and your rise, that’s just one of them. So I walk back into an SWF arena for the first time in years, show my gold to he crowd and call out anyone for a match. Why? Two reasons – I like fighting and I like getting paid. And hauling my world champion ass into SWF country and calling out anyone who wants a match – that seemed like a money idea. But what I didn’t expect is for some scrawny, half baked, bottom feeding, low down, scumball piece of trash to make it PERSONAL!




Va’aiga: See now you went and done what a ton of people did before. You made me MAD. Problem is that in some wrestlers that makes you lose focus – the Maori takes it a different route. Anger drives me. Anger feeds me. Anger makes me a bigger, more powerful threat – and I‘m not sure you id your research right and found that out. Ask Dace Night. Ask Danny Williams. Ask Spike Jenkins or Silent or Jay Dawg. Check my shit out from early in my career when I sent Hellsbane through the base of the Shark Tank, put the T2SF through fire, gave Sean Casey the shitkicking of his LIFE. Check my shit out down in Pittsburgh, what I did to Adam Anarchy in the Chairshot Deathmatch, how I put out the whole Family in one night, what happened to Tyler Byrd to get me THIS…


Va’aiga points at his title belt.


Va’aiga: Common thread – they all pissed me off. They all made the Maori mad. And now you done it too. Well before you head out and ask your insurance broker how much your premium just went up, let me throw down. Steel chairs? Kendo sticks? Baseball bats? NONE OF THAT! Steel Cage? Ladder? No Escape Cell? NONE OF THAT! See I know this world tour is headed out to the Budokan, and that means only one thing. You fancy yourself as someone who can walk the King’s Road? Ain’t NOONE who do the Oudou like this dude do, BITCH! King’s Road Classic III. The Maori Badass is 2-0 wrestling like the Japanese greats, and you, YOU BOY, are about to make it 3. I don’t want your international title – it’s up to the Bahama Bomber to take that off you, and damnit I’m gonna be watching when he does. I just want you to turn up and get your teeth knocked clear through the back of your skull with the LAAAAAAAAARIIIIIAAAAAAT!




Va’aiga: See Johnson, when you’re lying on your back, your neck aching, your orbital bone smashed out worse than mine ever was, short of breath, short of stamina and short of two inches of height cos you’ve been dropped on your god damn head one or six times more than is healthy, you’re just gonna have one thought drifting through what’s left of your mind; “I shouldn’ta pissed off the Maori”


And with one final shout the Maori Badass ends his promo…


Va’aiga: BOO-YAH!

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JJ Johnson© Vs. Aecas


SWF Smarkdown comes back from commercial with a blast, the cameras going right into a wide shot of the temporary ring area in the heart of the Phimai historical park. A swarming mass of SWF fans create a sea of faces at the ringside area and packing the temporary bleachers that have been erected to cram as much humanity into the area as possible. The camera cuts to a sweeping view taking in the happy faces of the crowd and a few waving home made signs bobbing about in the sea of humanity, most of them in Taiwanese and could be anything from offensive rhetoric to homemade soup ingredients. It’s anyone’s guess. The cameras finally cut back to the announcer’s table revealing The Franchise himself ready to continue calling the action and his cynical partner the Suicide King flicking through a small book.

“Hello everyone and welcome back to SWF SMARKDOWN! It’s been a great show so far and it’s far from over yet! Coming up next for you we’ve got an International Title match and then we-….King? What you doing?” Mak queries, temporarily off his flow as he finally notices the Suicide King’s book.


“Looking through the SWF rulebook if you must know.” King replies acidly as he turns another page before smiling triumphantly.




“Because I’m going to prove once and for all that Aecas cheated to win his first two matches back in the fed.” King states confidently before thrusting the book under Mak’s nose. “See! It says right there, crotching an opponent on the top rope and Rear naked Chokes are illegal!”


“…..But it’s in your handwriting!” Mak fires back before squinting at the page. “And in biro I might add.” The Franchise says, unimpressed.


“It’s the official rulebook Mak. It doesn’t lie.” King says with a sneer as he drops the book onto the announcers table only to be presented with a second book. “What this?”


“Well I just happened to have the latest official copy of the rules King. Maybe you’d like to have a look at it.”


“Sure.” The Suicide King snorts, snatching away the book and following the index. “Let’s see…illegal moves. Number one, Jokers Wil-………WHAT?!”


Mak discreetly pulls the Suicide King’s mic plug with a smirk, letting his irate partner rant angrily as he rips up the book. Mak’s discreet action is not a moment too soon as Amon Amarth’s “Death in Fire” suddenly booms through the speakers surrounding the ring area, gouts of white smoke pouring out of the temporary entranceway as the fans come to their feet, their cheers rising into the clear open skies as the next match


“Ladies and gentlemen! The following contest is scheduled for one fall! And is for the SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!” Funyon roars out over the cheers of the crowd as Aecas bursts out of the entranceway, forgoing his traditional entrance tonight and striding though the smoke, raising his scythe high into the air. The blade snaps out of the haft to another loud pop from the fans as the Black Angel makes his way swiftly down to the ringside area.


“Introducing first, the challenger. Weighing in at 315lbs, and hailing from Shrewsbury, England! He is the Black Angel, AYEEEEEECAAAAAAAAAAAAS!”


“And Aecas is wasting no time tonight! Its not every day you’re granted a title shot on your first few shows back!”


“Like he deserves one.” King says grumpily, having realised his mic was unplugged.”


”A good champion is always looking for a new challenge King. You should know that….then again maybe you don’t.” Mak says smugly as the Suicide King glares at him.


Aecas meanwhile makes his way up the steps and into the ring, taking his scythe in both hands and thrusting it up into the air to another massive cheer of the fans, grinning with anticipation before the a flick of a finger the scythe blade snaps back into the staff and he tosses it almost carelessly to the timekeeper, almost flattening the man before he staggers back to his position.


“Aecas certainly looks anxious to get things underway.” Mak says as the Black Angel starts to pace back and forth restlessly. “And who can blame him? Opportunities like this don’t fall in your lap every day at such short notice.”


“He doesn’t deserve it Mak. You know it and I know it.”


Kings sullen reply is swiftly drowned out by the crowd once more as a quiet voice makes itself heard through the speakers.


I do that rather well...don't you think?


Cryptopsy's “Crown of Horns” roars from the arena speakers to the delight of the crowd as more smoke billows out of the temporary entranceway and it isn’t long before they truly have something to cheer about as JJ Johnson strides out from the backstage area, Tag and International belts clasped firmly in his right hand as he walks with a purpose.


Johnson ignores the fans on either side of the ramp, some cheering him and those less well informed booing him. He doesn’t care; his attention is on the ring and his next challenger for the International title he fought so hard gain. JJ advances up the steps as Funyon raises his mic to his lips once more, walking along the ring apron and mounting the corner, spreading his arms wide to another mixed reaction as Funyon speaks his piece.


“And his opponent. One half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and the current International Champion! Weighing in at 233lbs, he is! JAY! JAY JOOOOOOHNSOOOOON!”


“Not as big a reaction for JJ as I would have expected King.” Mak says as there is another respectable pop for the champion.


“You’re surprised? Seriously what did Aecas ever do to get that over apart from carrying a plant about?” King replies as JJ dismounts the turnbuckle, and hands over his belts to referee Eddy Long, who thrusts the International Title into the air, turning in a slow circle before handing both belts to the departing Funyon.


“Well he did lawn dart the Memphis Eel.”




Back in the ring JJ turns to face his large opponent, having watched him all the way down to the ring as Aecas stops his pacing and faces Johnson squarely, his fingers twitching as he impatiently waits to get started. Eddy Long steps into the center checking the position of both men. Satisfied that nothing will start until he says so Long turns towards the Time Keeper and signals him to start the match.



DING! DING! DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



The two men lunge at one another as the bell tolls, slamming together straight into a collar and elbow tie up, both men strain against one another but Aecas’ greater strength quickly begins to tell in the uneven contest. The giant breaks the tie up quickly wrapping one huge arm around the head of Johnson and drawing him in close with a Side Headlock. JJ reacts quickly, smashing a series of hard punches into Aecas’ gut before pushing his opponent back into the ropes and using all his strength shoots him off across the ring. Aecas hits the ropes hard, and puts the extra momentum into his favour as he charges back full tilt across the ring. JJ ducks under a huge early Decapitator attempt by Aecas, whipping around to face the big man as he rebounds from the ropes a second time.


The Black Angel comes off of the ropes and gets knocked straight down as Johnson counters with a lightning fast Spinning Back Kick. Aecas is quick to get back to his feet, but JJ is faster and light years ahead of him, pouncing on his opponent from behind and latching his arms around the giants middle in a solid waistlock. Aecas is quick to counter this latest threat however, snapping a pair of elbow’s back into JJ’s face to loosen the hold before switching into a waistlock of his own.


Aecas quickly switches from a waist lock into a Full Nelson, but Johnson is simply two quick, simply letting gravity take a hold of him to slip out of the Black Angel’s grasp, dropping down onto his ass and then rolling backwards through the giants legs and back up to his feet, locking eyes with Aecas as the big man quickly turns around. There’s a brief stare down between the two men, before the Black Angel starts to pace the ring again as the fans begin to warm up to the match.


“A short burst of action that didn’t produce any decisive results for either man.”


“They’re just feeling each other out Mak, but JJ would be wise not to try and go toe to toe with Aecas, he may be tough but Aecas is just too strong for him. Then again we’ve seen what he can do with both strikes and submissions, all Aecas has to do is make one mistake and it’ll be over.”


Aecas stops pacing after a moment and the two men square off for a second time, this time however JJ ducks under Aecas’ questing arms and slips behind his giant opponent once again latching on a waistlock. Aecas once again jams an elbow backwards into the head of the champion, a second hard elbow follows loosening the grip just enough for the Black Angel to spin around and try for another Lariat, but JJ ducks yet again. Both men spin around to face the other, Johnson lashing out with a booted foot, kicking Aecas squarely in the gut. The kick has the desired effect as it doubles Aecas over leaving him wide open for Johnson, the champion doesn’t waste the opportunity, stepping in close and wrapping his right arm around the head of his massive opponent.


A split second before JJ can properly apply the Front Facelock two massive hands latch onto his legs and Aecas straightens up quickly, easily lifting the struggling champion into the air and onto his right shoulder. JJ struggles for a brief moment before Aecas yanks down hard on his legs, catapulting the smaller man backwards and slamming him backfirst into the canvas with a huge Spinebuster! The fans cheer as Aecas blocks the Facelock attempt but the cheers quickly die away as the Johnny rolls to one side and quickly stands back up glaring at Aecas as one hand presses against his back lightly, testing it as he locks eyes with his opponent once more.


“Big Spinebuster by Aecas, a nice counter to the Facelock but JJ Johnson isn’t even fazed!”


“He’s got a lot to prove in this match Mak, he fought tooth and nail to get that title, and he’s going to have keep fighting hard to keep it. Aecas had better not take him lightly or he’ll find himself in a world of hurt.”


Aecas eyes his opponent for a moment as JJ pops up from the Spinebuster, the giant gives a slight shrug and simply smashes his huge right forearm into the face of his opponent, sending the champion reeling back a pace. The Black Angel slams another forearm into the head of the champion following it up with a swift Kesa-Giri chop to the neck that rocks his opponent back once again, slowly driving JJ towards the corner.


Finally the champion gathers his wits, ducking under another chop he slips behind the Black Angel yet again slamming a hard elbow into the giant’s kidneys. Aecas arches his back as another sharp blow hammers into the kidney area, driving the giant into the turnbuckles. Aecas twists in the corner trying for yet another reverse elbow but the champion ducks out of the way letting Aecas turn himself around in the corner before smashing a solid kick into the belly of the champion.


“This has turned into more of a brawl than a wrestling match so far King!”


“JJ has to keep Aecas on his toes. He needs to keep working him over any way he can but he has to keep the pressure on!”


Aecas doubles up in the corner as JJ hops back a pace, waiting for his huge opponent to raise his head before he leaps forwards and sends his right foot crashing into the chin of the Black Angel with a devastating Superkick.


“What a kick! I think I just saw a tooth fly out!” Mak cries out as Aecas staggers out of the corner, one hand clutching his face leaving JJ to pick his spots, the champion quickly steps in close to the Black Angel and delivering a sharp Martial Art’s kick against Aecas’ left knee, making the big man stumble.


JJ presses the advantage, kicking at Aecas’ knee and his thigh forcing the big man to try and cover up as J3 picks at his left leg. After a hard kick to the kneecap that has Aecas clutching at his knee the champ hits the ropes and tries to Lariat the big man himself, his arm impacts against Aecas with a hard crack, rocking the giant back a pace but otherwise doing nothing.


Aecas looks at J3 for a moment before the champ runs off the ropes and tries an even harder Lariat meeting with the same result, though its impact does draw a noticeable wince, Aecas straightens up slowly as JJ runs to the ropes yet again. The Black Angel tries for a Big Boot but the champion is too quick and simply rolls underneath it, leaping back to his feet and bouncing off the ropes on the other side before dropkicking Aecas in the knee as he turns around.


The giant’s knee finally gives way underneath him dropping him down to one leg; JJ takes advantage of this with another quick dropkick right into Aecas’ face! The fans letting out a loud cheer Johnson as he finally manages to get his opponent down.


“Looks like JJ is taking your advice King! Using his speed to his advantage and by god is he ever hitting hard! Going toe to toe with Aecas isn’t usually a good idea, but he’s never been against anyone like JJ before!”


“He can keep hitting him hard like that but he’s got to pull out some big moves or shark in on that leg if he wants to put Aecas away.”


Almost as if he can hear the Suicide King’s words Johnson uncharacteristically rushes towards the ropes. Grabbing the top rope he jumps onto the second and springs off of the middle of the rope spinning around in mid air to land a hard leg drop right on Aecas’ neck! JJ quickly crawls over Aecas and grabs one of the huge legs lifting it as he tries to pin the giant.















Aecas roughly throws JJ off of him before Eddy Long can count to three; he starts to get up, looking for his opponent, unaware that the champion has quickly scaled the turnbuckle behind him. Waiting for Aecas to turn around J3 launches himself from the top planting both his boots in Aecas’ face with a sniper perfect Missile Dropkick sending the big man reeling again but not putting him down. Johnson is quickly back to his feet again, rushing at Aecas and doubling him over again with a vicious buzzsaw like kick to the gut. The champion takes a step back before simply slamming his foot into Aecas’ face jerking the big man back upright before a second Superkick sends Aecas staggering back to collapse into a corner.


“Well Aecas is going to be an orthodontists dream after this match.” King says with a gleeful smirk.


“Looks like it, and how about JJ getting aerial? We don’t see that out of him often but he’s pulling out all the stops.”


With his opponent temporarily stunned J3 quickly moves up and scales the turnbuckle Aecas slumped against, climbing up behind the Black Angel as the fans make their opinions known, some cheering Johnson and others booing him harshly as he dominates his giant opponent. Before Aecas can react, the champion wraps an arm around his head and jumps forwards off of the corner, using the extra height to plant Aecas’ face squarely into the canvas with a huge Bulldog!


JJ is on top of Aecas before the big man can get up, he grabs the giant’s left foot jerking the leg up with all his strength and smashing the knee into the canvas causing further damage to the appendage. Not content with just a single impact, JJ lifts the leg up again, this time planting his foot on the back of Aecas’ knee and driving it hard into the canvas. The Black Angel grimaces, and then lets out a sharp cry as Johnson simply slams his knee down hard on the joint to further the damage. Johnson grips Aecas by the ankle a third time but the challenger manages to raise his other leg and kick JJ hard in the stomach.


The champion looses his grip and Aecas stubbornly starts to get back up to his knees, trying to keep Johnson’s deadly hands away from his damaged leg only to be met with a barrage of thunderous elbows from JJ. Now that Aecas is more his size it gives the champion ample opportunity to get off some more hard strikes, and he doesn’t disappoint. The fans start to rally behind the champion as he hits Aecas with a flurry of elbows, kicks and chops.


“JJ Johnson showing no fear of his large opponent whatsoever!”


“You’re damn right he is Mak. But he might want to stop trying to knock out what few brains remain in that thick skull and keep working on that left leg. If you can destroy the vertical base of a near seven footer then you’re definitely achieving something.”


“And look at those elbows! He’s laying into Aecas with all his strength!”


“Psycho #3 had better do something soon or this could be over quickly.


“Psycho #3? Who are the other two?” Mak asks quizzically.


“Janus you idiot, and as I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted JJ is relying on his speed and the sheer impact of his strikes and Aecas needs now more than ever to slow the pace of this match down, and use his strength and weight to his advantage.”


“And JJ has yes to go for a submission in this match yet King. Despite working over the leg.”


“Submissions slow down the pace Mak, and talented in that world as he is I’m not sure that’s what Johnson wants to do. Not yet anyway.”


Aecas doggedly gets back to his feet, trying to block the blows that continue to fly at him as he backs away into a corner, shaking his head slightly to try and clear his mind as J3 backs up, retreating to the far side of the ring and pausing for a brief moment before charging at Aecas as he sits in the corner.


The Black Angel raises his head as Johnson hurtles in at him, leaping up and preparing to drive another savage elbow into the side of the challengers head. Desperate to do something, Aecas lurches out of the corner, one huge arm coming up to wrap around J3’s chest before the Black Angel throws himself forwards and drives Johnson into the canvas.


“STO!” Mak cries out as the fans explode anew from the impact.


“He took too long to go for that elbow.” The Suicide King says, shaking his head with disgust.


Aecas turns back to face his opponent limping slightly from the damage that JJ has inflicted on his knee but the expression on the giant’s face is more of anger than pain as he grabs Johnson by the head and pulls him upright. The giant steps in behind his opponent locking the champion’s arms in the same Full Nelson he tried before, heaving backwards and dropping the smaller man right on the back his head with a hard Dragon Suplex, trying to lock in a bridge but his knee simply won’t comply and he crumples back to the mat as Long makes the count.










Without a bridge it’s easy for JJ to escape the Dragon, but the champion is slow to get to his feet after having his bell rung with that hard Suplex. Aecas is no quicker to get back to a somewhat unsteady vertical base, but he has more than enough wits to reach out and grab Johnson by the head with his left hand before taking Johnson’s head off with a standing Lariat.


“Decapitator!” Mak shrieks as Aecas slumps down to his knees and quickly pins Johnson with a lateral press, hooking a leg in tight as Long drops to the mat once more.


















The fans explode once more as JJ’s right shoulder shoots off of the canvas before Long’s hand can slap the mat for three, the champion not willing to give up yet as Aecas rolls off of his groggy opponent and onto his back, grabbing his left leg and working at it gingerly.


“Aecas trying to get shake some feeling back into his leg.”


“Well he’s doing it at the wrong time Mak, Johnson’s getting up!”


J3 certainly is getting back to his feet, cradling his head from the two hard knocks it just absorbed, with Aecas concentrating on his leg its an easy matter for Johnson to put himself back in the driving seat as the champion flips over the Black Angel, grabbing the raised ankle and giving it a savage twist as he hits the mat back first..


“Rolling Knee Snap!” Mak cries out, as Aecas’ lack of foresight costs him dearly. JJ still has a hold of the Black Angels ankle and twists the leg harshly, putting more pressure on the joint and rolling Aecas onto his stomach. Seizing the moment, Johnson scissors his legs around the damaged limb, locking his hands and leaning back, pushing his hips off the ground and steadily applying pressure as he locks in the Cross Knee Breaker.


“There it is Mak! Hiza-juji-gatame! I told you one mistake is all it takes! Break his knee Johnson! Snap it off!” The Suicide King howls with glee.


The fans are on their feet as Johnson cranks on the pressure, Aecas’ usually blank face twisted in pain, teeth bared in a pained snarl as Long gets in his face, screaming at him whether he wants to give up or not. The Black Angel shakes his head violently, starting to make the long crawl to the ropes as Johnson continues to savage his knee. As tight as Johnson has the hold however, he can’t stop the big man using his greater strength to force himself towards the ropes, continuing to shake his head and roar “NO!” at Long before he finally grabs the rope.


The fans explode into cheers again as Aecas manages to escape the hold. Clinging to the bottom rope like a lifeline as Johnson grudgingly breaks the hold at Long’s insistence.


“So close. So close Mak.” The Suicide King mutters as Aecas takes advantage of the break to roll out of the ring, hobbling on one foot as he uses the ring apron for support. Seizing the imitative once more J3 quickly hits the ropes on the far side of the ring, charging back towards his opponent and ducking down to dive through the ropes with an Elbow Suicida!


Unfortunately Aecas still has enough awareness left to see the champion coming, the Black Angel lurching up and slamming a forearm into JJ’s head as it clears the ropes. The champions head snaps to the side and a beautiful dive turns into an ugly crash as he gets caught up in the ropes and flops down to the floor, Aecas collapsing next to him having lost his balance with the strike.


The fans are alive for both men as Eddy Long starts to count them out. Aecas pulls himself back up to his feet slowly, dragging a groggy JJ Johnson back to his feet with him, rocking the champion with a hard forearm before rolling him back into the ring, and sliding in after him.


“Good presence of mind by Aecas. He can’t win the belt by count out.”


“And he’s only got one leg Mak, no more headrops for him today.” King says with a smirk as Aecas uses the ropes to lift himself back up to his feet, grabbing JJ and muscling him slowly over to the nearest corner.


The cheers of the fans get louder as the Black Angel slams another forearm into JJ’s head, the champion firing back with an elbow of his own before having his head snapped back by the sheer power of his challenger as a second forearm hits home. J3 valiantly fires another elbow into Aecas’ jaw but another return forearm scrambles his brains long enough to give Aecas the advantage.


The challenger slams another brace of forearms into the head of the champion, one left, one right. Snapping JJ’s head from side to side, Kesa-Giri Chops light up J3’s throat as Aecas thunders the blade of his hand into the soft flesh of Johnson’s neck.








Spinning on his feet, and grabbing the ropes to keep himself from toppling over Aecas slams a Rolling Kesa-Giri chop into the side of JJ Johnson’s neck. The impact is sickening and the crowd echo in sympathy as J3 staggers out of the corner clutching desperately at his neck. The champion is wide open and Aecas turns again thundering a Decapitator into the back of Johnson’s head, champion and challenger toppling to the mat.


“Backbrain Lariat! The Champion is down! The champion is down!” Mak squeals as Aecas summons up the last reserves of his endurance, draping himself over J3 and hooking both legs, pressing all his considerable weight down upon the still struggling champion to try and guarantee the pin.































The fans explode once again as “Death in Fire” roars through the speakers that festoon the ring area, Aecas rolling slowly off of his opponent and sitting up, hands pressing against his knee as Johnson rolls over his stomach, hands clutching at his neck and the back of his head as Funyon makes the announcement the crowd wants to hear. “Ladies and gentleman the winner of the match. And NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION! The Black Angel! AYEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAS!”


“I don’t belive this Mak!” The Suicide King shouts over the ecstatic cries of the Taiwanese fans.


“Don’r belive what King?”


“This wasn’t a wrestling match. This was a fight plain and simple! Johnson’s title should never have been on the line! Aecas should never have even got a shot in the first place!”




“He had a handful of tights Mak didn’t you see that!” King blusters, despite the fact that there was no illegal action of any sort.


Mak simply rolls his eyes as Eddy long steps out of the ring and fetches the belt from the Time Keepers table. Sliding back into the ring as Aecas slowly gets back up to his feet favouring his left leg heavily and winces as he struggles to keep his balance. Long presses the title into his hands and he manages to smile, thrusting the belt high into the air with one hand as long raises the other as high as he can to the delight of the fans.


“And a new champion has been crowned! Three shows back and Aecas has gold in his hands once again!”


“It’s a travesty Mak!”


“We need to go to commercial now folks.” Mak says, pointedly ignoring his partner. “But we’ll be right back so don’t even think about going away as our main event is up next! Sean Davis with Michael and Amy Stephens will take on Tom Flesher and Charlie “Grappler” Matthews in a handicap tag match! And you know you don’t want to risk missing that!”

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“We’ve seen how Bruce has been arrested and placed in a Russian Mental assylum, we’ve seen how Wayne has gotten in touch with his old buddies known as “Rev” and Clem and they’ve been planning to bust Bruce loose.” King says as the cameras pan across the crowd.


“We’ve got one tape left, hopefully this will explain once and for all where Bruce Blank is now” Mak says a bit impatiently, he’s sat through 4 tapes already and he just wants to get the final answer.


*Roll tape*


The clock in the corner of the image says “1:11 AM”


The three men have all changed to their black ninja outfits and are hiding around the corner from the mental asylum, ready to strike.


“Alright Rev we ready to go??” Wayne asks impatiently


“Not quite.” Rev says while looking at his watch


The clock turns 1:12 AM


“Alright NOW we are ready. The easiest way to get into the asylum is to have a magnetic key card, that’s what we have to do first. Now the only card stored outside the asylum is with the head of the facility, he lives right here” Rev says as he points to the house across the street.


“Once we have the key card we’ll be on easy street”


“Brilliant” Clem whispers as he cautiously looks around.


“Now the door in front has an alarm that will go off if we try to pick the lock, so we got to disable that first.” Rev explains then points to Wayne “This is your job”


“Alright I need the paper bag of dog poop, the lighter and the remote controlled tank with the camera on it.” Wayne says and holds his hand out towards Clem.


Clem quickly hands Wayne all of it before he sneaks over in the dark and sets the bag of poop on the stoop, then stashes the tank in the bushes right by the door. Wayne lights the bag of poop on fire and rings the door bell., then he runs and hides out of sight.


“We’re going to wake him up before we break in???” Clem asks unaware of just what Rev has in mind


“It’s all part of the plan” Rev says with confidence


“But isn’t that dangerous??”


“Oh calm down, he’s the only one going inside the house we’re waiting here until he comes back with the key card” Rev explains.


After a moment the head of the asyum opens the door, wearing nothing but a housecoat and a sleepy expression. He sees the bag of poop and then steps out to look around. **


“Damn kids”


As he looks around Wayne quietly maneuvers the tank through the door behind him and parks it under a table out of sight. The director isn’t about to step on the bag, he’s way too smart for THAT. Unfortunately for him he’s not aware of the firecracker that’s stuck in the bag, with the fuse being lit by the flames.






“What the hell!” the head of the asylum yells out before he slams the door shut, turns the alarm on and then goes to take a shower to wash the crap off him. **


“Excellent, step one down.” Rev says keeping a running commentary as Wayne executes the plan.


Wayne once again moves the tank using the remote control while looking at the little TV, this time he raises it’s cannon and aims it at the button that turns off the door alarm. With a press of a button he shoots a BB and hits the button to turn the alarm off.


“Alright guys come on!” Wayne whispers


“You said we didn’t have to go inside Rev” Clem moans


“No but you have to hand me the tools so I can disable the camera that’s filming right inside the door!” Wayne says waving the two others over to him while he picks the lock on the front door.


“Now I need the extendo arm with a piece of duct tape.”


Clem hands it to him quickly as Wayne cracks the door open just 2 inches and slides the extendo arm through. He extends the arm up and places the piece of duct tape over the camera lens with ease. **


“I know they can’t recognize us with these outfits on, but better not to take chances. Now I need the fishing rod and the duct tape.”


Wayne grabs the stuff and sneaks into the house, every time he passes a camera he quickly puts a piece of duct tape over it and sneaks on. He makes his way to the master bedroom where he can hear that the director is taking a bath and cursing up a storm over being covered in crap.


“Serves you right you bastard” Wayne whispers


He opens the door to the bedroom a little, then he slides the fishing rod inside and reaches across the dresser where the keys are. As the director is still in the shower he doesn’t hear the muted clank of the keys moving but he would have surely noticed Wayne sneaking in. As takes the key card off the chain he turns the lamp on the dresser off by the switch on the wall and tapes it in the “Off” position before sneaking back down stairs with the fishing rod and key card in hand.


“When I get a hold of whomever did that I’m going to tear him a new one”


The director looks at the light being off, he thought it was on a moment ago, in fact he was sure of it. He flicks the switch on the cord, but nothing happens of course. **


“HM maybe the bulb blew”


In the dimmed light he cannot see that the keys are missing and just goes back to bed unaware of anything. Meanwhile Wayne has made his way through the house back to the front door where Rev and Clem are waiting for him.


“Alright mission accomplished” Wayne says as he holds up the key card.


“Okay just one more thing and then we can get Bruce the hell out of that horrible place” Rev says as he points over towards the asylum and the guard watching the front gate.


“He’s got a dog” Clem says with a whimper, he’s never really liked dogs.


“Don’t worry, everything is planned out. This is where the cheese and the fan comes in” Rev explains


“The cheese and the fan? Reverend are you sure about this” Clem asks.


“Yes! Now hand the cheese over – is it stinky?”


“Oh lord yes I can’t stand to open the bag it’s in”


“Good” Rev says and then sneaks off towards the guard house.


“Have faith Clem, he’s been doing this for a very long time” Wayne says as the two observe the silver haired Rev sneak up behind the guard’s little booth and then hold up the cheese with the fan behind it sending the smell of stink into the little booth.


A couple of moments later the guard starts to smell the air, then he turns and looks at the dog with a disapproving look as he curses it out. When the smell doesn’t go away he curses even more, then grabs the dog’s leash to take it round the back so that he can “do his business” Once the guard is out of sight Rev waves the others over towards him.


“Come on Clem, fortune favors the bold” Wayne says and heads off


“What if you’re not bold?” Clem mumbles but then reluctantly follows the other two.


“It’s all clear sailing now, we’re between shifts and all we need is the key card” Rev says revealing the last part of his plan.


“I got it right here, let’s go get my brother out of that dump” Wayne says as he holds up the magnetic card.


It doesn’t take long for the experienced trio to enter the asylum and then quietly make their way to room 4775 where Bruce has been locked up for over two weeks, subjected to lord knows what.


“Alright Wayne your brother is right inside, but. . . “ Rev says and puts a hand on Wayne’s arm to brace him “my informant said that it may not be a pretty sight”


“Whatever it is Rev I can handle it, he’s my brother. . . besides how bad can it be?” Wayne says and then opens the door.


*Fade Out*


“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!!” Mak exclaims “That’s it?”


“It’s the end of the tape yes”


“But. . . but what happened? What kind of state is Bruce in? Come on don’t leave us hanging like that!” Mak complains.


“I’m sure they got him out. . . right? I mean who else could have sent us the tapes?” King deducts “I’m sure he’s out – hell I’ll be you he’ll be here next week for Storm”


“Maybe, but what kind of state will he be in after such an ordeal?” Mak ponders


“That’s the big question isn’t it?”



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“…and it’s time for the main event, a tasty Indochinese riot, if you will!” The Suicide King bellows, almost too enthusiastically for a man of his dry disdain for Thai culture.


“Care to explain that disdain, King?” Mak Francis inquires.


“I was in ‘Nam,” King begins, “summer of ’69. I missed Woodstock so my plane flying over Laos could crash into Bangkok. And believe me, you don’t want to crash there. Nine men survived the crash, but I was the only one to escape. They had ancient weapons and incredible distance vision. I can’t even tell you of the horrors witnessed there.”



“Ladies and gentlemen!” Funyon bellows from inside the ring, eliciting a roar from the Thai crowd, “the following contest is a three-on-two handicap match, and it is scheduled for one fall!”


with that, an intense white light showers the arena, a light that would tickle Lou Reed down to his toes.






“Rookie” by Boy Sets Fire crashes through the speakers, and as the Smarktron starts to fade to black jagged white letters flash up one after another to form a familiar phrase:




As the spiky guitar riff starts Stephens’ face appears smiling his distinctive lopsided grin before the Smarktron cuts into clips from his matches - the Super Intoxxication on Flesher to win his first World Title, the Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, the All-Show Brawl with the Insane Luchador - along with clips of him grinning or smirking on the mic. Finally it cuts to footage of him taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the-




-explosion of red pyro all along the soundstage! From within the fiery pyrotechnic depths emerges three figures to a tremendous ovation.


“Introducing first, the team of ‘The Perfect Storm’ Sean Davis, Amy Stephens, and MICHAELLLLLLLLL STEEEEEEPHENSSSSSSSS!”


Rather nondescriptly due to time constraints beyond the control of this writer, the three walk down the ramp and into the ring, doing various things to garner cheers.


“And their opponents…”


The very familiar guitar riff of Muddy Waters’ “Mannish Boy” rocks the arena, and the crowd…doesn’t react, probably because no wrestler has yet used it.


But then they see who emerges from the curtain. Grappler has a new entrance, yadda yadda. Enjoy.


“Introducing the team of ‘The Superior One’ Tom Flesher [who, by the way, gave me an extended index card introduction, but quite frankly, the wonderful Thai people wouldn’t understand an ounce of it, so why shoot my wad now?] and Charlie ‘Grappler’ Matthews!”


The two men also nondescriptly walk to the ring, but in such a manner that is sexier than their opponents. Even Amy.


So, the bell is called and the match begins!




Matthews assures Flesher that he’s raring to go in his first match back, and so steps into the ring first, followed by the hoss of the advantaged team, Sean Davis. The two men march to the center of the ring, stare each other in the eyes, and hold their hands out, initiating a test of strength!


“I think the very building is shaking from the pure testosterone admitted by these two men right now!” Francis cries.


“…gross,” King replies, finally breaking out of his postwar trauma.


The two men shake, each trying to gain an advantage over the other, and it appears as though Davis is overpowering the Grappler, to a big ovation. Still, just as Davis begins to make a move, Matthews quite easily knees him in the gut and, ducking under Davis’ right arm, uses the handlock to flip his opponent over his shoulder and down to the mat with a modified northern lights suplex.


Charlie Matthews, quite proud of his work, contemplates putting Davis in a resthold. Before he can come to a conclusion, though, Flesher politely asks Matthews to tag him in. And how can anyone say no to that face? So The Superior One enters the ring and points to Amy Stephens. Sean Davis, meanwhile, quickly rises to his feet after the suplex and, sensing Flesher’s carnivorous desire, oddly agrees, mumbling something about crackas and fish.


“Hey, Mak,” King begins innocently, “have you ever thought about Tom and Amy getting it on? I mean, the director in me can’t help but imagine how their sexual tension would project onto the big screen, or a computer monitor.”


“Damn it, King,” Mak sighs.


The two superstars approach each other, Tom with a wry smirk on his face. Tension mounts! Pad Thai is devoured! But…!


Abruptly attention shifts away from the ring as there is a commotion in the first couple of rows of the audience. The Thai audience looks around in confusion as a blonde white man comes charging through with a steel chair in his hand, vaults the guard rail and rushes the ring!


“What the hell?” Mak barks.


Tom Flesher can see the intruder, and something on his face must have communicated it to Amy Stephens. She turns around just as the new arrival gets to his feet after rolling under the bottom rope…




…and he nearly takes her head off with a chairshot.




“That’s… that’s Mike Van Siclen!” Suicide King shouts in amazement, “what’s he doing in the SWF? What’s he doing in Thailand, come to that!?”


As the camera gets a shot of the intruder standing still for a second, it becomes clear that the Suicide King is correct; it is indeed ’The Spectacle’ Mike Van Siclen. Record-breaking Tag Team Champion. Former leader of the Urban Empire. Retired, some eighteen months ago, by the brother of the girl he’s just hit in the head with a chair.


To whit, the man currently leaping over the top rope into the ring, an ugly expression on his face. Not that Van Siclen’s all that bothered.






“Sweet Zombie Christ,” Mak yelps, “Van Siclen has just laid out Amy and Michael Stephens with that chair! What the hell does he think he’s doing!?”


“From the looks of it? Payback,” King states flatly. Meanwhile Tom Flesher and Charlie Matthews are exchanging puzzled glances, while the referee has seen enough and calls for the bell!




Van Siclen lunges forward, swinging the chair at the head of Sean Davis. The Perfect Storm, still standing on the apron, wasn’t as quick to react as his former leader, but he shows his reflexes now by raising his hands and catching the chair on the downswing, then wrenching it out of Van Siclen’s grip!




MVS pauses only a second to gape at the loss of his weapon before realising that he’s facing a very, VERY angry Sean Davis. Accordingly the Spectacle suddenly decides that maybe discretion is after all the better part of valour and turns to run - Davis drops off the apron and charges around the ring but Van Siclen scrambles out the other side and heads off up the rampway with the Perfect Storm in hot pursuit!


“King, what on earth is going on here?” Mak Francis asks, his composure completely shaken for one, “we’ve just seen Mike Van Siclen come back and attack both the Stephens, presumably in revenge for his retirement at the hands of Michael Stephens in late 2004, then go for Sean Davis as well who was part of Stephens’ Revolution Zero, the enemies of Urban Empire that Mike led… but why? Why now? Why here?” However, before the Gambling Man can answer Funyon’s voice booms out above the din of the crowd:


“Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has informed me that this match has been declared a NO-CONTEST!”


There are scattered boos from the Thai fans, but most just seem bewildered by what has just occurred. Meanwhile Flesher and Matthews seem to be in the same situation, each one looking up the ramp where Mike Van Siclen disappeared with a ‘what the fuck?’ expression on their faces. However Tom Flesher’s natural chivalry seems to take over and he bends down to check on Amy Stephens. The Punk-Rock Princess’s notoriously thick skull seems to have prevented her from being knocked out by Van Siclen’s unexpected assault and Flesher starts to help the groggy lager lass up, not even copping a feel in the process. He motions to Charlie Matthews to come and give him a hand and the big man steps over the ropes before coming to his tag partner’s side…


…at which point Flesher casually shoves Amy into Grappler, and makes a upwards pulling motion with his arms.




“NO!” Mak roars, “no! Damn it Flesher, do not do this!”


“Get in there and stop him,” King suggests, earning himself a withering glare from the wheelchair-bound Franchise. However, Francis’s furious protests fall on deaf ears, if indeed Tom heard them at all over the din of the crowd; the Superior One is carefully climbing the turnbuckles as Charlie Matthews places an unsteady Amy Stephens into a standing headscissors. The crowd are rising to their feet, jeering in disapproval, but they are powerless to do anything. With Sean Davis gone and the referee as useful as referees tend to be in this situation, the only person in any position to do anything would be Michael Stephens. And thanks to Mike Van Siclen’s attack, Michael Stephens is flat on his back on the other side of the ring.


However, just as the crowd noise gets to a level that might have blown the roof off of a conventional arena, the Englishman seems to start to recover. Slowly, wearily, he sits up. One hand to his head, he looks across the ring and sees, with visible horror, his sister stuck in Charlie Matthew’s clutches.


But try as he might, he can’t get up quickly enough to prevent Matthews from hoisting Amy upright just as Tom Flesher jumps off the top rope to deliver a spike piledriver.








Why the crowd are picking on Tom Flesher particularly, it’s hard to say. Maybe because he checked on Amy first, and seemed to be the one instigating the subsequent unsportsmanlike attack. Maybe because he was the one jumping off the top rope to make the piledriver even more devastating. Maybe even because he’s such a completely obnoxious human being.


“Good God Tom, was there any need for that?” Mak Francis spits, “was there any need for that?”


Tom Flesher doesn’t have a reply to his friend. Instead he ostentatiously dusts off his hands before slapping Matthews on the back, and the pair of them exit the ring. Neither one of them looks back, but if they had they would have seen Michael Stephens haul himself over the mat to check on his sister. And, as the EMTs come down to examine the condition of the Hardcore Gamer’s Champion, Flesher and Matthews would have seen Michael Stephens look up from Amy to glare after them, two steel-grey eyes boring into their backs as they make their unconcerned ways up the ramp and away from the ring.


It seems very likely that Tom Flesher hasn’t heard the last of this.












© Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, 2006

‘Raising workrate through no-contests’

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