The Seventh

[Bruce Blank 0]

[Deep booming ”NFL Films” Voiceover]

 

SWF Lockdown Kremlin, Moscow, Russia: May 4th 2006

 

“It had been 51 days since Wildchild won the title. The international title had been successfully defended 3 times already when Wildchild took on a man as cold as the Russian Winter”

 

“JJ Johnson had reached for the top before but never quite managed to win the big match, a loss against Wildchild would amplify his image of choking in a big match environment but a win would place him firmly in the top ranks of the federation

 

#Flashback#

 

The camera fades back into Lockdown with high-energy being a fitting adjective to describe the crowd; it’s pandemonium at the Kremlin, a situation usually reserved for when they have to make an important decision and the direct line to the White House doesn’t work. Or maybe it’s pandemonium when it does work.

 

Political comments aside, the atmosphere is indeed pulsing with mass amounts of energy, the camera swooping over the roaring crowd that has gathered in one of the grander ballrooms and picking up signs such as “J3 IS MY PREFERRED BRAND OF SPOT REMOVER,” “LET ME HAVE YOUR WILDCHILDREN,” and “IN SOVIET RUSSIA, ELBOW GETS THE FUCK WILDCHILDED OUT OF HIM!” before coming to a rest at the announce table, occupied by none other than Mak Francis and the Suicide King!

 

“Zdravstvuite!” says the Franchise with a grin. “Welcome back to SWF Lockdown! I am the Franchise, Mak Francis, joined as always by the Suicide King, and what an interesting match-up we have for you tonight!”

 

“That we do, Mak,” agrees King, although with a bit of a scowl. “Shame you had to ruin my mood with your Commie-talk.”

 

“Whatever,” sighs the Franchise, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, for those of you just tuning in, what we have next is JJ Johnson vs. Wildchild, for Wildchild’s International Championship. These two have never met in any sort of competition, barring the Cold Front Classic battle royal in November, and even then they didn’t interact in the slightest; a clash of styles like this is sure to produce a match for the ag-“

 

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

 

Match for the ages or not, it’s obvious to see, considering the intro to “Crown of Horns” is now blasting throughout the hastily set-up loudspeakers within the Kremlin, that at least one of the competitors doesn’t want to wait. The smoke that accompanies this music barely has time to billow up across the entranceway before Johnson barrels through it, tag belt over his shoulder as he makes a quicker pace to the usual ring than usual.

 

“As I was saying, this is sure to produce a match for the ages,” notes Mak, “and I’m not sure what JJ Johnson’s hurry is.”

 

“Well, obviously he wants to get in the ring, wipe circus-boy out as fast as possible, and leave and enjoy some fine Russian women,” says King plainly, as if this were an obvious solution.

 

“If he’s looking for a fine Russian woman,” notes Mak, “he might want to walk a little faster, and get a little more time to search. He’s going to need as much time as he can get.”

 

“Oh, please,” scoffs King. “Like if a Russian woman came up to you, you wouldn’t bend that shit over and load it up like a shotgun.”

 

“…what?!” asks an incredulous Franchise. “Can you even say that on television?”

 

“Like a SHOTGUN,” stresses the Heartbreaker as Johnson jogs up the steps before swinging his leg between the ropes and jogging over to the second rope, where he hops up before throwing his arms wide, glaring out over the Russians that would be mobbing the ring if not for the somewhat impromptu guardrail; in fact, it’s not even a rail. It’s roadblocks, the Russian government obviously strapped for time to put an actual rail within the most glorious ballroom in the President’s house.

 

“YOU KEEP BUMPIN’ ME AGAINST THE WALL!”

 

“YYEAAAAAHH!!”

 

The Kremlin EXPLODES – fortunately for the government, not literally – as the opening tones of Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” come bumping out of the speakers, followed closely by Melissa Fasaki, and closer still, the Wildchild himself!

 

“AND I KNOW I LET YOU SLIDE BEFORE!

BUT UNTIL YOU SEEN ME! TRUST ME!

 

“YOU AIN’T SEEN BOUNCIN’ BACK!”

 

As Johnson looks on, still hopping about like he just chugged four cans of Jolt, Wildchild calmly bounces down to the ring, his head bobbing slightly to the music as Melissa Fasaki slows her pace to fall behind him, smiling at the various Russians that are now mobbing the guardrails – with the term used very loosely – to get at the popular International Champion.

 

“And Wildchild has to know, here, that while he has the experience advantage by a very large margin,” begins Mak Francis, “he has had experience advantages before, in feuds with Scott Pretzler and Jay Hawke. Jay, the slower of the two, never managed to defeat him. Pretzler, a bit more fast-paced, although not by much, took him to the test in Ladder, Submission, and Last Man Standing environments, and barely came out on top.”

 

“What are you getting at?” asks the Heartbreaker, looking very bored.

 

“What I’m getting at is that Johnson is far more explosive than either of those two,” finishes Mak flatly. “Johnson is stronger than Wildchild – Wildchild has faced this before, and triumphed – but Johnson is deceptively fast, and if the champion can’t keep that in his mind, then we’ll see a new champion tonight.”

 

“Right,” says King, still sounding bored. “Boy, I’d like to bend Fasaki over and load her up like a shotgun.”

 

“Stop saying that!” snaps Mak as King looks on with a leery look in his eye, Wildchild diving between the middle and bottom ropes and rolling to his feet. This is enough to get a cheer from the crowd, and Wildchild basks in his glory a little before grinning, removing his shin pads, and handing them to Melissa. That done, he sits back in his corner with that grin still on his face and his title still around his waist, and waits for Funyon to begin his announcement. In the opposite corner, JJ still can’t seem to be still.

 

“Zdravstvuite!” booms Funyon.

 

“Commie-talk!” gasps King again, a look of loathing on his face.

 

“Hush!” hisses Mak.

 

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the International Championship!” continues the ring announcer, eliciting another cheer from the audience. “Introducing first, to my right, the challenger. In the red trunks with the white trim, he stands six feet, one inch tall, and weighs in tonight at 223 pounds! From Windsor, Ontario, Canada…J! J! JOHNSON!”

 

Johnson throws his fist up in MMA fashion as the fans get a tad negative, the Canadian completely ignoring them as he nearly spasms, leering across the ring in his newfound hyper fashion at the champion; more specifically, at the belt around his waist.

 

“And his opponent!” begins Funyon again, and that’s all it takes to get the fans roaring again in their support for the Bahama Bomber. “In the black trunks, with the aquamarine and yellow stripes, he stands five feet, eleven inches tall, and weighs in at 214 pounds! From Morgan’s Bluff in Andros, in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! He is YOUR SWF International Champion…the WIIIIIIIIILD-CHIIIIIIILDD!!!”

 

“YYEEEEEAAAAHH!!”

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Bell’s gone,” notes Mak, “and we’re underway!”

 

The two men waste no time in bounding to the center of the ring, Johnson still twitching with previously unseen energy, looking Wildchild straight in the eyes the entire time. The Bahama Bomber watches him carefully, but decides that it’s safe – for now – and the two lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, jockeying for position!

 

“And this is an interesting tie-up,” says Mak.

 

“No, it’s not,” sighs King. “It’s a collar-and-elbow tie-up. It’s not interesting.”

 

“It IS interesting,” insists the Franchise, “because you’d think Johnson would have a definite advantage due to his size, and his strength. Not the case, though, because while Johnson is bigger and stronger, Wildchild, being shorter, has leverage on his side, and you know those leg muscles of his are insanely powerful. If WC can get his weight low enough, he could take Johnson down with the greatest of ease.”

 

It looks to be that way, as the Human Hurricane gets lower and lower, pushing with his legs the entire time against the stronger Canadian…who smoothly transitions behind the Caribbean Cruiser with a hammerlock, and goes near limp, his formerly excited face now completely flat, almost as if bored. The only real movement he’s making is holding the hammerlock, which Wildchild struggles against…and Johnson grins, and the fans catch on rather quickly.

 

“BOOOOOO!!”

 

“Brilliant!” says the Heartbreaker, completely ignoring the jeers of the fans and officials packing the Kremlin. “Johnson comes out excited. Walks to the ring quickly. Can’t stop jumping around, moving somehow. Why? To lure Clown-Boy into a false sense of security, and then snap on this hammerlock out of nowhere and control the match at his pace from the beginning. Now JJ has every advantage.”

 

Wildchild slaps at his shoulder, attempting to numb it to the pain shooting through it…but then he abandons his plan, and smoothly ducks backwards and under the arm of the Canadian before cinching on a hammerlock of his own!

 

“Or does he?” notes Mak with a grin on his face as the Canadian goes from grinning to grimacing, and he, too, slaps at his shoulder, lowering his center of gravity as well in an attempt to lower his center of pain. “Seems he got a tad too cocky, and now WILDCHILD holds every advantage!”

 

But this isn’t the case; with little hesitation, Johnson abandons his “ow, this hurts” act and reaches back, seizing a handful of the Bahama Bomber’s braids before leaping high, coming down on his knees and flipping the Caribbean Cruiser with a snapmare…before shooting in and latching on a Buffalo Sleeper hold!

 

“BOOOO!!”

 

“Buffalo Sleeper!” cheers King. “One of Johnson’s most punishing holds, the match might very well be over right now! See, Wildchild can hardly wrestle; he does what he does with those silly flips. You can’t flip if you don’t have oxygen, Mak, and in all my years at the announce table, few things deprive you of oxygen faster than that hold!”

 

And indeed, the Wildchild looks to be turning purple already, precious O2 being blocked from his lungs by the burly arm wrapped tight around his throat. However, he still has plenty of oxygen left; enough, at least, to reach out with one leg and drape that foot over the bottom rope, prompting referee Blaine Kalem to call for a rope break! Johnson immediately dances back to the center of the ring, waiting for the Bahama Bomber to get to his feet. Wildchild does so, and Johnson immediately offers his hand out, looking for a knuckle lock. Knowing that this is the realm of the quick, the Human Hurricane is eager to take the hold, and he locks one hand with the Canadian before going for the other…as Johnson, as swiftly and elegantly as a wrestling ballerina, spins under the arm, pinning it back with a top wristlock before sweeping the Andros Aeronaut’s legs out from under him and dropping down, wrapping his arm around his throat for a second Buffalo Sleeper!

 

“BOOOO!!”

 

“Second Buffalo Sleeper!” grins the Heartbreaker as Wildchild finds himself in an uncomfortable position for the second time in what is practically seconds. “Johnson can lock that hold on from anywhere, which is a frightening thought when you consider the potency of the hold!”

 

“And this is what I was talking about,” says Francis. “If I know Wildchild, and I’d like to think I know him pretty well, he wasn’t apprehensive at all about that hold. Sure, Johnson got him from the collar-and-elbow, but he knows as well as everyone else does – including Johnson, but I’m getting to that – that the knuckle lock has always been the medium with which cruiserweight artisans work their finest. Johnson knew this, lulled WC in, and then used that explosiveness I talked about to get a dangerous hold locked on almost instantly. Smart strategy from Johnson, and I hope Wildchild catches on soon, or this match will be shorter than anyone expected.”

 

However, this Buffalo Sleeper is almost as ineffectual as the last one; the ropes are near still, and with a little stretching – an easy task for someone as limber as one Dominic LeCroix – the Bahama Bomber is able to free himself from the choke once more. Again, Johnson smoothly slides back to the center of the ring, and Wildchild takes a moment getting up as he bangs his fist on the mat, Melissa Fasaki looking on worried.

 

“What are you doing, Johnson?” asks the Heartbreaker, a tad incredulous. “Stop letting him up!”

 

“No, King, see, that’s strategy in itself,” corrects the Franchise. “It may be good sportsmanship – and I know how you are about sportsmanship – but it’s also an insult. Wildchild’s too proud to be simply let out of a hold, especially by someone with the veracity of Johnson; Johnson is essentially saying ‘You’re not good enough for me to bother with getting you back to your feet’. It might come back to bite Johnson, but if he can make Wildchild angry enough, the Bahama Bomber’s going to make mistakes, and Johnson has made a career out of capitalizing on mistakes.”

 

Johnson, seeing that the Human Hurricane has reached his feet, shoots in for a grapple, but Wildchild is no longer having any of that, and he plants a boot firmly in the Canadian’s gut…that Johnson recovers swiftly from, planting the Wildchild with a double-leg takedown! Johnson attempts to capitalize, shooting in, but WC is quick to wrap his legs around the torso of the Canadian, forming an ironic MMA guard that is sufficient for keeping the Ultimate Fighter at bay. What it is not sufficient for, however, is keeping Johnson from raining blows on him, and Johnson proceeds to rise to his feet – as best he can with Wildchild weighing him down – before lashing out with a series of elbows, pounding the Bahama Bomber into dust to polite applause from the crowd!

 

“I’m not sure why the fans are applauding,” sighs King. “It’s their ‘homeboy’ that’s getting pummeled mercilessly.”

 

“Two reasons, King,” begins Mak, a veritable wrestling professor. “One, Russia is very big on mixed martial arts; elbows out of the guard is difficult to do, and this applause is out of respect. Two, Russia is home to perhaps the most unstoppable man in MMA in Fedor Emilianenko, and again, those guarded elbows are one of Fedor’s signature moves. The Russians see this as a shout-out to their big man in the Ultimate Fighting world, even if that’s absolutely not the ca-HOLY SHIT!”

 

That swearing on tape-delay television is well justified, as WC, deciding that no, being elbowed in the face incessantly is NOT fun, catches one of the blows and, with a quick moment to think up something and to twist his arms into that position, locks on what is essentially a front cobra clutch! Johnson tugs, and the grip comes loose a little, and so the Bahama Bomber abandons his now-moot guard to wrap those legs around Johnson’s neck, pinning him quite well with a cobra clutch/triangle choke combo, the Canadian in dire straits!

 

“YYEEAAAHH!”

 

“Is that?” begins King.

 

“It is!” answers Mak. “Aecas’ Wings of Fire! The Black Angel returned earlier tonight, although I doubt that’s what WC had in mind. Regardless, making stuff up has landed Johnson in a very effective choke, ironic considering the Canadian’s strategy thus far.”

 

Fortunately for Johnson, he has two things going for him. One, Wildchild is very, very bad at this hold, and so his breathing is not nearly as constricted as if it were applied by everyone’s favorite Shrewsbury native. Two, he’s on his feet; Johnson has been placed in triangle chokes before, and his response has always been the same: lift with his knees, and slam the choker to free himself. He’s done it with Zyon, he’s done it with KOJI, he’s done it with Spike, and…yep, there he goes, doing it with Wildchild.”

 

Indeed he is, although it’s a lot tougher for the Ontario native with only one arm. Still, with strain, he hoists the Bahama Bomber up, up, and up more, into the powerbomb position…but before Wildchild can be broken in half by the ensuing impact, the champion abandons his hold and hops over the Canadian’s head before sprinting off the opposite ropes, bouncing back, and nailing a turning Johnson flat in the chest with a dropsault!

 

“YYYEAAAAAHH!!”

 

Johnson goes crashing hard to his back as, with a picture-perfect backflip, Wildchild lands on his feet and immediately charges in, taking advantage of a stunned Canadian by taking a leg and spinning around it, looking for his submission finisher!

 

“Wildchild going for his figure-four leglock!” shouts Francis. “He beat Johnny Dangerous with this at Ramadomination, and it’s certainly one of the more effective holds in his arsenal!”

 

“Please,” scoffs the Gambling Man. “It’s one of the more effective holds because it’s one of maybe two holds he uses, and besides, it’s not going to be of any effect this early in the match.”

 

This proves accurate, as once the Human Hurricane has his back to the Ultimate Fighter, Johnson wastes no time in planting his foot on the rear of the Wildchild and shoving, sending him stumbling into the ropes. As is his instinct (and his entrance music), the International Champion bounces back towards the prone Johnson…who, with a flex of his abdominal muscles, kips up and becomes a standing Johnson…and then a spinning Johnson…

 

*CA-RACK!!*

 

…and the International Champion becomes a dazed International Champion as Johnson shatters his jaw with a ferocious rolling elbow! Wildchild stumbles back into the ropes, but this time, he doesn’t bounce back; Johnson isn’t letting him wait around this time, though, and he immediately takes a firm hold of the Caribbean Cruiser’s braids before tugging him into a standing headscissors, taking a firm hold of his waist, and flipping him up into the air as a worried Melissa Fasaki looks on…

 

 

…and has her fears assuaged, as Wildchild once again avoids powerbomb death by hopping over the head of the Canadian!

 

“YYEAAAAHH!”

 

“DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE!”

 

Johnson whirls towards the pesky champion, looking to fire another elbow…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…and he pays for his momentum as he has just enough time to see the Wildchild leap high before his vision is blocked by the boot of the Caribbean Cruiser via gamengiri!

 

“YYEAAAAHH!!”

 

Johnson stumbles, and nearly falls, and Wildchild pops him with a forearm shot before sending him into the far corner, following him in as he no doubt looks for his Blue Crush…

 

…but a Blue Crush is not to be, as Johnson leaps and plants a foot on each of the upper two turnbuckles before flipping backwards, taking himself quite acrobatically over the SWF’s greatest acrobat, who goes charging back-first into the turnbuckle. Taking advantage, Johnson rushes in and lashes out with a Yakuza Kick…

 

…but the Human Hurricane is not as dazed as the Canadian may have thought, and he leaps up to the middle rope before flipping forward over Johnson! Sternum and steel collide, much to the jubilation of the crowd, and Wildchild spins one finger in the air in a 360 to call for the Blue Crush before charging in, leaping , spinning…

 

…and Johnson drops to his hands and knees before rolling sideways, taking him clean under the massive vertical leap of the International Champion! Wildchild narrowly avoids hitting the buckles, planting his arms out to stop his descent into the poorly-padded steel, but he’s powerless to stop the brutal elbow that catches him right in the back of the head!

 

*CRACK!*

 

The focus fades just a little from the Bahama Bomber’s eyes, but he snaps back to attention quickly…unfortunately for him, it’s not quickly enough to stop Johnson from ducking his head under his arm and lifting backwards…

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

…before dropping him right on his neck with a backdrop driver!

 

“BACKDROPDRIVEEEEEERRR!!” bellows the Heartbreaker as the International Champion is bent in half, and slumps quite uselessly over onto his stomach, where Johnson is quick to roll him onto his back and hook his leg for a cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But even despite the freakishly high angle at which the Caribbean Cruiser landed, it is too early in the match for a move to put the Wildchild down, and he kicks out with force as to sit right up…and Johnson slips around him before pinioning an arm and locking on a Buffalo Sleeper!

 

“BOOOOO!!”

 

“And AGAIN Johnson goes to the Buffalo Sleeper!” says Mak, almost amazed. “I mean, it’s an effective hold and everything, but while he’s successfully locked it on twice, maybe three times, this means it has also failed that amount of times. Every time he’s locked it on, he’s been too close to the ropes.”

 

This doesn’t look to change; Wildchild has to slump in the hold – risking increasing the pressure – and stretch further than most human beings could only hope to, but he can just get a toe over it. Johnson tugs him away, but Blaine Kalem hath spoken: a toe is sufficient, and Johnson relinquishes the hold again, and once again, he steps back, almost taking special care not to touch the Caribbean Cruiser. Another slap to the face, no doubt, and one Wildchild doesn’t take kindly to…as he springs to his feet before charging off the ropes with blinding speed, bouncing back, and leaping high…

 

 

…to take Johnson off of his feet with a leg lariat! No reversals, no muss, no fuss; Johnson goes down, and at least for the moment, he stays there, a position solidified by the Bahama Bomber sprinting off the ropes once more before coming back, leaping HIGH…and coming crashing down on the Canadian with a back senton!

 

*BANG!*

 

“YYYEAAAAAHH!!”

 

“DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE!”

 

Johnson rolls to his stomach, clutching said body part with a good bit of enthusiasm considering the power of the blow. This proves unwise, as Wildchild immediately dashes up to the Canadian before taking an arm, wrapping it around his leg, and diving over with La Majistral!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-NO! Off-guard pins on unweakened opponents are rarely effective, and Johnson proves this by kicking out quite forcibly; not to say he isn’t rattled, which he shows by immediately rolling outside to the Kremlin’s magnificently carpeted floors to recover.

 

“Ha! I knew it!” laughs the Franchise, clapping his hands with a look of delight on his face. “Wildchild knew Johnson was holding back, so he held back! Sure, he took some lumps, but now he’s got Johnson judged, and he’s going all out like the Bahama Bomber we all know and love!”

 

“That would imply people love him,” grumbles King, but there’s no denying the positive reaction for the Caribbean Cruiser…especially when he charges to the ropes before hurtling himself through and onto the Canadian with a suicide dive!

 

But Johnson ducks!

 

But Wildchild wasn’t going for a dive in the first place, instead lowering his head more and flipping over the ropes onto the apron before casting himself off with a flying reverse elbow that catches the back-to-standing Ultimate Fighter clean on the point of his jaw, sending his sweaty body tumbling to the ornate carpet!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Somewhere, the Kremlin’s custodian gets a shiver through his body.

 

Johnson sits up to realize that the fans are laughing at him, prompting him to get to his feet with a back roll and charge the Bahama Bomber, looking for a lariat!

 

That Wildchild grabs the wrist of before spinning under, doubling Johnson over with a kick to the gut, and draping his foot over the back of the Canadian’s neck…

 

“Caribbean Cutter!” shouts Francis.

 

“Not on the outside!” moans King.

 

…and indeed, it’s not on the outside, as Johnson quickly stands, forcing a backflip out of the Wildchild before taking his wrung arm and tugging the Bahama Bomber close, then launching him back towards the ring with a railgun suplex!

 

“Brilliant!” lauds King in direct contrast to what he said not moments ago, but the brilliance of Johnson’s suplex wears off some when the Wildchild simply flips through, landing on the apron and shooting his arms out to grab on to the second rope before he tumbles back to the floor. Knowing he has to act fast, it is the work of a moment for the former acrobat to shift his grip from the middle to the top rope, and tug himself up to the very top before flipping backwards and achieving chest-to-chest contact with the challenger, driving him back-first into the rail as the Bahaman goes tumbling into a now-exuberant crowd!

 

“Sky-High Asai Moonsault!” cries the Franchise elatedly as Johnson stumbles off of the rail now clutching at his spine, Kalem’s ring-out count reaching four. The Canadian turns to face where the Caribbean Cruiser vanished into the crowd…just in time to watch Wildchild leap to the top of the rail before casting himself with a seated senton right into Johnson’s chest, taking the challenger stumbling back…

 

*CLANG!*

 

…and into the ring post, eliciting groans from even the most adamantly anti-Johnson in the crowd. Wildchild hops off of the Canadian unharmed as the Ultimate Fighter slumps to the ground, holding the back of his head, and that slumping time is about all he gets before the Bahama Bomber has hoisted him back to his feet and is rolling him into the ring before hopping to the apron, casting himself up into a one-handed handstand – the crowd oohs at this – before whipping his body around and down with a slingshot powerdrive elbow!

 

*BANG!*

 

“YYYEEEAAAAAHHH!!”

 

“DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE!”

 

The Kremlin is getting very, very loud as Wildchild covers Johnson, barely giving the Ultimate Fighter an opportunity to rub his aching chest as Kalem slides in to count!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-NO! NO! Johnson shoots his shoulder up before two, but this doesn’t stop Wildchild from continuing his comeback, tugging the Ultimate Fighter to his feet to try for another high-risk attack.

 

*CRACK!*

 

However, Johnson makes pulling him to his feet a high-risk attack in and of itself with an elbow smash! WC shakes it off and fires back with a forearm!

 

That’s blocked, and Johnson returns fire with an elbow!

 

*CRACK!*

 

And another!

 

*CRACK!*

 

And with the champion sufficiently dazed as Fasaki looks on worriedly, Johnson whirls on the spot, looking for a second rolling elbow!

 

 

*CA-RAACK!!*

 

 

That doesn’t connect, Wildchild leaping sky-high upon the completion of Johnson’s spin and blasting him in the face with a second gamengiri! The force of the kick is enough to take Johnson off of his feet, and Wildchild acrobatically lands on his feet before lifting up a leg of the Canadian and trying for his figure-four once more!

 

 

…And once again, Johnson plants a foot on his ass before shoving him quite forcefully away. There is a key difference between this time and last time, however.

 

As last time, there wasn’t a steel pole in Wildchild’s way.

 

*CLAAANG!!*

 

“BOOOOOO!!”

 

“Ha! That’s what JJ thinks of your momentum, Clown-Boy!” laughs King, completely ignoring in typical fashion the few minutes in which JJ got no offense in whatsoever, and that Wildchild is, in fact, a victim of poor positioning. None of this matters to Wildchild, who pulls himself out of the corner holding with a grimace his surgically-repaired left shoulder, or Johnson, who immediately hops to his feet before wrapping an arm around the wounded limb of Wildchild before bending him sideways and draping a leg over his, latching on…an abdominal stretch?

 

“Bizarre,” says Mak. “I’ve never, ever seen Johnson do an abdominal stretch.”

 

“But does it not make sense here, Mak?” asks the Heartbreaker. “You see, he’s not working the body of Wildchild with this, although that is an added motive; he’s working that arm, torquing that arm that’s already been torqued to hell and back by those Buffalo Sleepers, and setting him up for his bigger, badder abdominal stretch in the Frostbite III.”

 

But before any real damage to either limb can be done, Johnson reaches under the Wildchild’s leg, hooking him before scooping him up into an inverted powerslam position, and the Bahama Bomber looks at the lights before Johnson sends him down with a Canadian Hammer!

 

Onto the ropes!

 

That causes the International Champion to slingshot off and over, Johnson securing a firm facelock before dropping straight back and nailing the champion with a slingshot snap brainbuster!

 

*BANG!*

 

“BOOOOOO!!”

 

Wildchild’s momentum carries him up to a seated position, but this is only temporary before he collapses onto his back, Johnson drawing the near arm up into a top wristlock as he covers him for what could be the final pin of the match!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! Wildchild kicks out, although it takes some effort…and it only takes a moment for Johnson to take advantage of that wristlock he applied earlier by dragging the Caribbean Cruiser up to a seated position and latching on a Buffalo Sleeper!

 

“AGAIN,” snaps Mak. “I mean, it was cute at first, but just stop! These aren’t going anywhere! Look, you set him up near the ropes again!”

 

And the Franchise is correct; Wildchild is so close to the ropes he could walk up them.

 

 

He could walk up them.

 

 

A grin forms on the face of the Caribbean Cruiser.

 

 

He could walk up them.

 

And so he does, reaching a leg out and beginning his ascension by planting a foot on the bottom rope. A moment later, his other foot joins him, and Blaine Kalem, in typical Cutthroat fashion, is too astounded to demand a break. Johnson seems too astounded to do anything as the Bahama Bomber makes his way up to the middle rope, his abdominal muscles straining greatly with the effort of piloting 200+ pounds of muscle against gravity, against the Canadian holding him down. Almost as if helping him, even though he’s trying to maintain pressure, Johnson rises with him, up to one knee as he still continues to wrench on the hold. Wildchild is holding his breath to avoid dropping to the hold; if this fails, he’s finished, because he’s not going to be able to suck in more air. Top rope now, and Johnson is on his feet, bearing down with all of his might, crushing what little oxygen remains out of the Human Hurricane…but it’s too late. Wildchild has reached the top, and with a flex of his mighty leg muscles, he casts himself backwards, taking Johnson down to the mat with a modified Pinball!!

 

“YYYEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

 

“HE DID IT! HE WALKED THE ROPES AND GOT FREE!” cries Mak excitedly, as King buries his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking, obviously from tears.

 

And then everyone that isn’t King, Johnson or Wildchild becomes painfully aware of the actual situation. Johnson maintained the hold. And now he’s got a body scissors on with it, meaning nowhere to run for the Wildchild. Melissa bangs her hands on the apron, looking intensely, trying to find an escape. Wildchild does as well, bridging up and attempting to pin Johnson…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

And then Johnson rolls onto his side, increases leg pressure, and all the enthusiasm whooshes out of Wildchild’s manager.

 

All the remaining air whooshes out of Wildchild’s lungs.

 

 

*TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!*

 

 

And the title whooshes right off of Wildchild’s waist.

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOO!”

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Crown of Horns” kicks into full blast death gear as Johnson immediately abandons the hold, rolling to his feet and waiting for Kalem to bring his newly won title his way, Wildchild rolling over to the ropes to take huge, gasping breaths.

 

“Well, I don’t like the result,” sighs Francis. “But that was a hell of a contest. Both men gave their all, but while Wildchild caught onto Johnson’s plan, by then, the damage was a little too extensive for a true comeback to be made. It didn’t help that Johnson did his best pit-bull impersonation with those Buffalo Sleepers, and finished it off with that doushime Buffalo Sleeper. I’d love to see a rematch, but for now, Johnson was just too much for WC to overcome.”

 

“Oh, cheer up,” scoffs the Heartbreaker as Kalem hands Johnson his belts, old and new, the Canadian promptly draping them over his shoulders before striding over to where Wildchild has made it up to one knee…

 

 

…and offers out his hand. The Bahama Bomber eyes it suspiciously, but looks up at the face of the man offering it and sees a grin. Not his usual malicious grin, like when he applies Buffalo Sleepers to win championships. A real grin. Grinning back, Wildchild seizes a hold of the hand and gives it a firm pump before getting to his feet and raising Johnson’s hand, the crowd applauding the display of mutual sportsmanship.

 

“Here is your winner, and the NEW International Champion…J! J! JOHNSON!” booms Funyon to less boos than before as Wildchild drops the arm of the former challenger, now champion, mouthing “I’ll get ya next time”, prompting a chuckle from the Canadian. Johnson leaves the ring, and the camera pans back to the announce table.

 

“Again, that was a great match, and it was made all the better by that show of sportsmanship from the usually cold-hearted Johnson. Speaking of cold-hearted, we’ve got Landon Maddix vs. Amy Stephens, title for title, and we’ve got that next,” grins the Franchise. Don’t go away.”

 

“Oh, sure,” says King flatly. “Ignore Melissa Fasaki and other Russian women, but bend sportsmanship over and load it up like a sho-“

 

“Johnson had done it, he had proven that he COULD bring it when the pressure was on and he was looking to be a defending champion”

 

Still photo of J.J. Johnson in a fighting stance with the International title wrapped around his waist.

 

Seventh SWF International Champion: J. J. Johnson