Smartly Pretty 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 WU-TANG CLAN COMIN ATCHA Watch ya step, kid! Watch ya step, kid! Watch ya step, kid! …aaaand out comes “The Divine Wind” Akira Kaibatsu. Taking a slow jog down the aisle, making sure to slap every fan’s hand before sliding into the ring. He steps up onto the middle rope with one foot, top rope with another, and makes a motion towards his waist, inaudibly moving his mouth. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND his opponent, hailing from Mobile Alabama he is the reigning SWF International Champion, the self-proclaimed “King of Pain” BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!” WHITEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! ”Well every time that I come home nobody wants to let me be Seems that all the friends I got just got to come interrogate me Well I appreciate your feelings and I don't want to pass you by But I don’t ask you about your business don't ask me about mine” The jeers and the boos intensify as the big man steps through the curtains. Giving in to the demands of high brass, Bruce is sporting a brand new look, complete with a red singlet. Bruce still has his violent swagger though, and that’s what matters. “Lookin’ Spiffy, Brucey!” King laughs. “The following match up is scheduled for ONE FALLLLL and is for the ES DOUBLE YOU EFF INTERNATIONAL CHAAAMPIONSHIP!” DING DING DING Akira and Blank stand toe to toe in the center of the ring. They exchange a few words, which gives Blank a confused look. Then, out of nowhere, Akira strikes, sending his forearm up Blank’s chin with a European Uppercut! *CRACK!* But Blank stays put! The Trailerpark Messiah, sporting his new singlet trunks, no-sells Kaibatsu’s signature strike! Blank doesn’t just sit there though. He draws his arm back, and shoots it forward, knocking Akira on his ass with a forearm! “I’m not likin’ Akira’s gameplan, so far, King,” Francis says. “Yeah, I just don’t understand why this 4 foot nothing cruiserweight isn’t overpowering Bruce Blank, Mak!” Akira gets up right away though, not backing down from the International Champion. Kaibatsu runs at the ropes, bounces back and throws his forearm up once again, trying to knock Blank down with a European Uppercut in running fashion, but once again Blank holds his ground. The Divine Wind scoots back to the ropes once again, and tries another running European Uppercut, but it’s once again a failure as The Redneck Superman takes him down with a clothesline. “Akira…c’mon now,” Mak sighs. Kaibatsu won’t give up though. He kips up, and runs back at the ropes one more time, and runs towards Blank. The International Champ extends his arms out for another clothesline…but Akira rolls under his legs! Blank turns around to face Akira… *CRACK* And Blank falls backwards from the impact of the European Uppercut! “Finally…” King says. Akira runs towards the ropes and runs in place, screaming riling the fans up for the title matchup. Kaibatsu then turns to face Blank, and as the champion gets up, The Divine Wind sprints towards him and raises his leg up for a Yakuza Kick! YEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! “It may have been a slower start, but Akira’s picking up steam!” Mak calls. Kaibatsu times himself, waiting for the perfect moment to run towards the ropes once again. When the time is indeed right, he takes his plan into action, and springboards off the middle rope, spins in mid-air for Kamikaze Rush! Blank doesn’t go down right away though, only doubles him over. Kaibatsu then runs towards him, sliding over his back and grabbing his arm with a float over arm drag! Akira walks over to the ropes once again, playing to the crowd. He isn’t playing much longer though, as Blank gets up right away, and nails Kaiabtsu in the back of the head with a forearm! Blank picks up Kaibatsu by the hair, and throws another forearm to his cheek, before whipping The Divine Wind into the ropes, but Kaibatsu reverses, planting his feet before Blank can whip him. Akira spins around with Bruce’s arms, wrenching them around, and turns it into a hammerlock. Kaibatsu spins around and takes The Trailer Park Messiah down with Crash and Burn! “Crash and Burn! Akira’s hammerlock to clothesline combo!” Mak screams. “I think I’d take a Big Mac combo before that, Francis,” “Oh, how very funny of you King!” Kaibatsu struts over to the corner of the ring, stalking Blank, waiting for him to get up. Blank is slow to reach his feet, and Akira gets a little impatient but he waits it out. When the International Champion is finally at two feet, Kaibatsu double pumps with his feet and shoots his left boot into Blank’s chin with a Superkick! “The ball is in Akira’s court now, King!” “Blank is a superball, remember? Watch how quickly Blank will turn this around.” Kaibatsu does what any former cruiserweight champion would do; he climbs the top rope! He makes a forward rolling motion with his wrists, and the crowd gets behind that! The Divine Wind pushes off with his feet, tilting backwards ever so slightly, driving his back into Blank’s sternum. YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “SENTON BOOOOOMMMMBBB” “Francis, tell me…how does that hurt at all? He’s like, 3 foot nothing, 12 and a half pounds.” Kaibatsu then drops down on all fours, and wraps Blank’s head in a figure eight neck lock. “Oh…the fans know what’s coming now! No asswhooping would be complete without…” Akira rolls over, and jumps up and down with his knees, driving Bruce’s face into the mat with each shot. *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* “The Skull Fuck!” “I don’t like Akira, but that’s a pretty awesome name for a move. Almost like some other cooler indy wrestler came up with it,” Kaibatsu doesn’t waste a step, using every bit of energy he has to inflict damage on The International Champion. Kaibatsu throws a huge European Uppercut at Bruce’s jaw, knocking him back a step. Akira runs forward right after grabbing him by the throat, taking him down with a side effect! Akira fiddles with Blanks hands, hooking Blank’s arm behind his back. Kaibatsu struggles with Blank’s second hand though – unable to completely lock in the Anaconda Vice. “Akira’s looking for that Anaconda Vice! He’s developed that as his finisher as of late!” King shouts. Blank uses his raw strength to shove Akira’s hands off of him, and knocks Akira back a few feet. Blank then approaches Akira and whips him into the ropes. Kaibatsu bounces off and runs right into Blank…but he baseball slides through Bruce’s legs, and gets up quickly, before locking in a half nelson. Akira shoves backwards, going for a half nelson suplex! “HA!” King laughs hysterically. “HA HA HAHAHAHAHA! He really thinks he can take Bruce for a half nelson suplex! Akira sees the error in his ways, and quickly shoves Bruce forward away from him, immediately following this up by going to the outside apron. Blank turns around, and Akira jumps up, springboards off, and nails Bruce in the chest with a springboard front dropkick! “KENTA style, fools!” Mak says. “I do have to give Akira some credit, though, Mak. He’s going toe to toe with one of the SWF’s biggest, and well…he’s in complete control. He won’t be for long though! No doubt about it!” Akira runs at the ropes one more time, as per the success of his offense thus far. He bounces back, and drives his boot right between the eyes of the International Champion with a shining Gamengiri! “WHITE MAGIC~!” Mak shouts. “Blank rolls all the way out of the ring!” “He just needs to recover, Mak! He’ll be right back in there!” Akira doesn’t want to let Blank recover though; he runs at the back ropes, and comes charging back, and dives through the ropes! He once again throws his forearm up, this time in perpendicular fashion going for his European Uppercut suicida! ….and Blank moves out of the way! BOOOOOOOOOO “Told you! Brucey’s right back on top!” “…and it looks like Brucey can’t help himself, King!” Just as Mak calls, Bruce positions the medical table right below the turnbuckle. He lifts up Akira by the hair and throws a huge forearm at Kaibatsu’s cheek before slamming his forehead into the wood and positioning him in Ultraviolent Perfectionest fashion. Blank then climbs up towards the apron, and takes a step onto the turnbuckle. …and crotches himself? “The new tights may have just worked to Bruce’s disadvantage, which is definitely not something I’ve ever heard of.” King is puzzled. “I guess he’s used to his jeans making his steps a little shorter, so the tights mistimed his step,” Akira takes advantage of his strange luck, and climbs the apron, and ascends the top turnbuckle. He doesn’t have much to do from this position to give a big man, but he does have one thing…He jumps up, hooks his legs around Blank’s neck, before rolling backwards off the table, rolling one more time driving Bruce’s head through the table with an Avalanche Reverse Hurricanrana through a table!! YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “OH MY GOD, KING, BOTH OF THESE MEN ARE DOWN!” “AND OUT!” “Remember, you cannot be DQ’d in an I Quit match, so that’s perfectly legal!” Referee Matthew Kivvel runs to the outside, and checks the pulses of both men. He stays close to them as they breathe heavily on the floor. Slowly, Akira reaches his knees. He doesn’t have the energy just yet to pack a mean punch, but he throws what he can at Bruce’s body. Blank slowly gets up to his knees and throws a powerful forearm at Akira knocking his face sidways. Akira, not wanting to take another shot like that up front, rolls into the ring, and Blank follows. Akira gets to his feet and throws a big elbow at Blank, and Bruce respons…in an odd manner. He throws a European Uppercut at Akira! Kaibatsu isn’t pleased with that at all, and he throws forearm after forearm at The Trailerpark Messiah! The blows send Bruce back way into the turnbuckle, and he rolls backwards, his feet hitting the top rope, sending him back into the ring with a new found momentum. Akira ducks under a Bruce clothesline attempt, and the Redneck Superman hits the other ropes, quickly met with an Akira Kaibatsu Superkick! “Another Superkick! He’s really setting up the neck for that Anaconda Vice, King!” “That thing is damn near impossible to lock in! He’s gonna have to catch Blank REALLY off guard if he wants to win with THAT thing,” Kaibatsu picks up Blank, and once again throws a signature European Uppercut. He then tosses The International Champion into the corner, and comes running right after him, but Blank lowers his shoulder – purposefully or accidentally, we are unsure – and headbutts Akira in the gut. Blank then lifts Kaibatsu in Manhatten Drop fashion, and drops him on the top rope. “I don’t like where this is going,” Mak grimaces. Blank then goes to the 2nd rope closest to Akira, and makes a belt motion towards his waist before he leaps forward with his arm hanging out, tossing Akira off the ropes with a huge leaping lariat! “HUUUUGEEEE Lariat from Blank! It’s not often we seem him go to the top TWICE in one match…it may have been awful the first time, but it sure as hell paid off this time!” King shills the champion. “Uh…he’s going for a cover” “It’s an I Quit match, Blank!” Kivvel screams, which leads to a very “I knew that!” look from The Redneck Superman. “You can take the boy out of the south, but you can’t take the south out of the boy!” Francis laughs. Blank lifts Akira up by his beard, and throws three quick punches right in his gut. Blank then locks him in a front facelock, and wraps his arm aroumd. He lifts Akira up going for a suplex, but Kaibatsu blocks by throwing his free arm at Blank’s stomach. Akira then grabs Blank’s head, and shoves it right to the ground with a DDT! “DDT from Akira! He turned nothing into something right there, King!” “Does nothing refer to his talent, Mak Francis?” Kaibatsu follows this up rather quickly, running to the left rope, getting to Blank in the middle of the ring, and then stepping right over him, bouncing to the next rope. He bounces off that, picks up speed, and then… *BOOM* “Akira just dropped an elbow right in Bruce’s chest with the powerdrive elbow!!!” Mak shouts. “Gah, I hate that move. It’s so lame. He should do some crazy posturing beforehand. Akira sits at his knees in the middle of the ring, and tries to get the crowd behind him the best he can. CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP Picking up speed with each clap, Akira and Blank both get up around the same time. Kaiibatsu approaches Blank from behind, and locks in a standing double chicken wing, going for Natural Born Chaos Theory! Blank fights it with every inch in his body, running backwards backing up into the turnbuckle breaking up Akira’s double chickenwing. “Akira was so close there once again! That neck of Blank’s is going to be fucking wrecked by the end of the night if Akira has anything to say about it.” “And he won’t get anything to say about it, Francis. Blank is simply too big for Akira to come out on top. Get real, Franchise.” Blank runs away from the turnbuckle he leans against Akira on, picking up speed towards his the opposite turnbuckle. He halts himself by planting his boot on the bottom rope, and then spins around, getting a full head of steam for a huge elbow to Akira’s chin! “Bruce Blank with that phenomenal running elbow!” Mak praises. “He really is one of the best brawlers we have here, I hate to admit. It’s true though,” “What’s to hate, Mak Francis? What’s to hate? Bruce Blank is an old school grappler who will stop at nothing to get the job done. WHAT is to hate?” “His dickish tendancies and lack of concern for anyone but himself.” “Don’t give me that bullshit, Francis.” Blank then runs towards the side ropes, picking up more steam to nail Akira with another elbow, but Kaibatsu comes running from nowhere to intercept with a huge European Uppercut! Blank goes knocking through the ropes, but he uses his legs to keep him in with the top rope, like last time. This gives him momentum, and he TAKES AKIRA’S HEAD OFF WITH A LARIAT! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Oh my GOD that was insane! Did you see that Francis?! That was a lariat like I’ve never seen! Akira’s career was just shortened five years!” “Ok, I get it King. IT WAS REALLY BIG” “It was more than really big, Francis…that was enourmous!” Blank lifts Akira by his big beard, and throws The Divine Wind a huge forearm. Blank then stuffs Akira’s head between his legs, and lifts him up onto his head. Blank roams over closer to a turnbuckle, and doesn’t drop, but THROWS Akira down onto the turnbuckle with a gigantic Powerbomb! “OH MAAAAN, Francis! Look at this! Blank has Akira in the palm of his hand! Ain’t no stoppin’ the Trailerpark Messiah right now!” “Will you stop slobbering over his jockstrap, King?” Blank picks up Kaibatsu by his long air, and puts him in a double chicken wing, just like Akira had done to him not long ago. Blank takes it just a little bit further though, lifting Kaibatsu up into the air for the Elevated Double Chicken Wind. Blank screams something at Kivvel, and the referee brings the microphone over to Akira and sticks it in hid face. Akira makes a few grunting noises, but nothing resembling “I Quit” just yet. Then, Akira unhooks his legs from below him. He uses his uncanny arm strength to lift up, and flip backwards, unhooking himself from the elevated double chickenwing. He then clutches Blank’s back and flups him backwards for a Japanese Rolling Clutch Ping! “What the hell is he doing that for, Mak? You can’t win by pinfall!” “I don’t know…King…but he’s out of that painful looking submission hold!” Blank kicks out at a count of…well, zero. The confused redneck lifts the Japanese star by his tights, and throws him a huge forearm! Blank then catapualts Akira into the ropes. Kaibatsu comes bouncing back with a lot of power, and Bruce catches him between the legs, flipping him sideways dropping his back onto the mat. *CRAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH* Blank wants to end the match quickly, and drops the microphone right in front of Akira’s face. The Redneck Messiah then grabs ahold of Kaibatsu’s legs, and crosses them. The International Champion wastes no time before flipping Akira over, and locking in a Texas Cloverleaf! “Uh-oh, Francis! Texas Cloverleaf! How’s Akira gonna stay in this one? I know how…he isn’t! C’mon! Tap! Tap!” “Do you know what professionalism is, King?” Akira is grabbing a hold of his fists tightly, his body vibrating with will power. In an act of weakness, he grabs the microphone, and holds it close to his mouth. “C’mon…two words….” But Akira doesn’t say any words! He tucks himself underneath Blank by pushing off with his arms, and flips the International Champion over! Akira grabs his legs and flips over with a bridge! “What…the hell…is he doing?” King asks, along with the audience. “You know…I’m not sure either. This is the second time he’s used a flash pin in this matchup. We know Akira’s the master of the flash pin, he’s demonstrated this frequently in the SWF, but this is an I Quit match!” “Maybe he hasn’t learned English yet, and thinks this is a regular matchup?” “King…” “Just throwing ideas out there…” Blank once again kicks out….at a count of nothing. Ignoring his apparent confusion, he throws several punches to the gut of Akira Kaibatsu, doubling the former Cruiserweight Champion over. Blank then grabs Akira in a front facelock, and lifts him up onto the turnbuckle. Blank grabs him in a front facelock once again, and wraps his arm over his head, before bringing Akira all the way down with a huge Superplex! *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM* WHIIIITEEEEE TRASH WHIIIITEEEEE TRASH WHIIIITEEEEE TRASH Blank once again looks inside his cupboard of old school wrestling and submssion techniques, and Blank lifts Akira over his shoulder so that his back is against it, tucking Kaibatsu’s leg behind his hips. “Blank’s got a Gory Special applied this time! What move doesn’t this man know?! My god, he’s the total package.” King says. “He’s even got Kivvel bringing the mic over to him to help him out when he wins the match in, oh, 15 seconds.” Akira doesn’t lose in 15 seconds though. It’s been at least 10 and he’s still sweatin’ it! He makes some mumbling noises into the mic, but nothing close to “I Quit”. He squirms, but Blank holds on tight. Then, he finds a way to unhook his legs, and he kicks them from underneath Blank, and rolls forward in the air, catching Blank in another pinning predicament! ‘OH! OH OH OH! I GET IT, KING!” “What? Akira’s retarded and doesn’t know how to win his match?” “No! He’s using his talent in flash pins to help him escape these painful submission maneuvers! It’s been working like a charm, and we haven’t even been able to notice!” “That makes too much sense. It’s Akira we’re talking about!” Blank, still confused as ever, picks up Akira by the hair, and throws one more punch to the gut, like he’s been doing the whole sequence. “You know, King, if Blank was really the total package like you say he is, don’t you think he’d learn from his mistakes and try something different? It’s just signature move, submission. Signature move, submission.” “He’s going with what works, and pain WORKS!” “Well, enough about that…when are you going to praise the toughness of Akira going toe to toe with someone of Bruce’s size and not giving up yet?” “Probably never,” Akira and Bruce get up almost simultaneously, and the first thing Akira does is throw a European Uppercut right at Blank’s jaw! “Akira’s fighting right back!” Kaibatsu throws one more European Uppercut before he hurls a right elbow, snapping The Trailerpark Messiah’s neck back. Akira then nails Blank with a forearm, and then whips him into the ropes. Blank tries to reverse Akira’s whip with a Big Boot though! Akira ducks under it, and when Blank turns to face him, he toe kicks him right in the gut, and butterflies the arms. Akira then lifts what he can of the Super Heavyweight, and spins him around to the left, planting him on his face for It Came From Sendai! YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! A-KEY-RAH! A-KEY-RAH! “Akira plants Blank with It Came From Sendai! He’s gotta lock in something big if he wants to win right here!” Akira does just that, jumping forward, and dropping towards Blank, grabbing his left arm, and pulling it upwards for the fujiwara armbar! The fujiwara armbar may be a big submission, but Bruce is still a very big man, and lifts Akira up by his arm alone! “Holy shit, Mak! Look at what Blank just did with his arm!” ….and he levels Akira once again with a clothesline! BOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “I really love Bruce Blank, and that’s why,” Blank then lifts Akira by the hair, and attempts to whip him into the ropes, but Akira stops short in front of them. Blank comes running forward, going for another clothesline, but Kaibatsu ducks under it, nearly sending Blank to the outside of the ring! Blank is poised though, and he carries his momentum on to the apron and nowhere else. Akira however, runs towards the ropes, and bounces off. He picks up speed towards the middle, and he leaps over the ropes, spinning halfway and as he does, he grabs Blank’s head in a front facelock, bringing him down to the floor with him for the World’s first suicide dive suplex!! YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! “HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” “Eh, looked like a suplex to me, Mak” “That was no ordinary suplex, King! He leaped over the ropes and landed on the floor as he hit the suplex! A suicide dive suplex?!?! What the hell is this, circ de souleis?” “Worse. The cruiserweight division” Akira won’t stop right there though. He’s an entertainer, and he needs to do his job. He climbs back up to the apron, and he jumps up once again. He sways his legs to the side, and drops them on the ropes, using the momentum to carry him backwards for an Arabian Moonsault!! YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “First the suicide dive suplex, now the Arabian Moonsault?!?! Akira’s pulling out all the stops right now! Everything Akira knows is being put to the test at this point in the match!” Mak shouts. “I hope he knows how to kill giants. I know I don’t,” “That’s why you’re retired and he’s fighting for the International Championship,” “Are you comparing me to that chink?” Akira doesn’t want to stop right now. He’s going 100 miles an hour and he’s going to try and brawl with Blank on the floor…which probably isn’t a good idea. He picks up Blank by his mangy hair and throws one more European Uppercut his way, before Blank respons with a forearm of his own! Akira pulls back for another European Uppercut, but Blank’s forearms are much quicker to execute, and he nails Kaibatsu in the forehead before The Divine Wind can smack him in the chin! Blank then whips Akira into the Spanish announce table, and Akira hits the front of it hard. Blank wanders towards his left to find his gold plated belt, and…in rather unusual fashion, he hooks it around his foot. “Blank’s got some pretty big feet, King. That actually works?” Blank then walks right over to Akira with the belt on his foot, damaging the plate, but not too badly. He scrapes the bottom of the title with Akira’s face in one quick smooth motion. He does it again, this time fiercer and stronger. Blank then shoves it right in his face one more time, outright kicking him in the forehead with it, causing a cut to open up right above his eye. HE’S HARDCORE! HE’S HARDCORE! “Woah…haven’t heard those chants for Akira since…well since Akira vs Blank!” Blank unstraps the title, and nonchalantly wipes some dust off, before tossing it to Funyon, winking at him. Blank then throws Akira right into the ring, and slides in himself. He then drags Akira up by his trunks, and stuffs his head between his legs. He tosses Akira up by his head, and starts running forward. Then in a swift motion, he drops Akira right to the ground with Sweet Home Alabama! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Sweet Home Alabama! Blank hit Sweet Home Alabama!” King shouts. “Can’t be much longer now, Francis!” “But what’s he going to follow it up with? He threw out a bunch of submissions earlier, and Akira refused to quit!” “Shut up, Francis! You don’t know anything! Blank will make Akira quit right here and right now! That back is softened up enough for anything!” Blank’s never been a flashy guy, so why should he start with submissions? Brucey goes right to an old standby. He grabs one of Akira’s legs, and then flips him right around sideways, sitting back on the leg, adding a ton of pressure to the back that Akira’s been having problems with all match. “THE BOSTON CRAB!” Mak shrieks. “Akira won’t be in this won very long! Akira pushes off with his legs towards the ropes. One leg at a time he crawls. Kivvel holds the microphone in front of him, as Blank screams at him to do. Akira grunts and shakes his head no with each step towards freedom. “…NOOOOOO!” Akira screams into the microphone as he makes one last dive towards the ropes, finally catching them! “LET GO!” Kivell screams, heard through the mic he’s still holding. Blank shakes his head though, he’s holding on, and there’s no DQ to stop him! Akira, catching Bruce at a moment with the referee, spins around, and knocks Blank off his back! YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! Akira gets up, and he’s holding up his hands ready to fight! Not for long though… ….because Blank runs right at him with a huge forearm! Akira is knocked back a bit, but not all the way down. Blank then puts him in a front facelock, and wraps the arm over his shoulder. He lifts Akira up and holds him up there, the crowd counting along. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! BOOOO Right after the count of six, Bruce drops Akira right on his back. **CRAAAASSSSHHHHHHH** BOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “THE BLAANK BOMB! THE BLAAAAANK BOMB! IT’S ALL OVER NOW! LOOK AT AKIRA’S MOTIONLESS BODY!” “Eh..Uh..ye…” Mak is speechless. Akira’s body is indeed motionless. The Franchise struggles for words to say as Blank goes overtop Akiras back, and sits on it. He crosses Akira’s hands over his throat, and there’s only so much time the human body can withstand in Blanks Straight Jacket. “He’s…he’s got the straight jacket in” Mak sighs. “DO YOU QUIT?” Kivvel screams at Akira, and the Divine Wind shakes his head. “DO YOU QUIT?!” “I…” “I…” “I….” Akira doesn’t say the last words though! The Divine Wind thrashes his left arm from beneath the hold, and frees that one arm. He then takes over Bruce’s hand with that arm, and grabs a hold of his wrists. Then…then he starts unwravveling the duct tape?! “what the hell is he doing, Mak?!” “HE’S DUCT TAPING HIS MOUTH SHUT!” Akira gets a few pieces of tape off of Blank’s wrists, and he wraps it tightly around his mouth and head. “DO YOU QUIT?!” Kivvel screams one more time “MHGNGN FMFBFM” The Divine Wind screams backs. “AKIRA CAN’T QUIT IF HIS MOUTH IS DUCT TAPED SHUT!” Mak shouts in joy. Blank, finally, gives up. He picks up Dolemite, and he slaps him around, throwing a forearm right at his face, sending him back to the ground. Blank steps over him, and grabs the duct tape at his mouth…but then he let’s go. “Uh oh…Blank’s got a sinister smile on his face, King” “I love that smile” Akira begins to violently shake his head, blocking his nose from Blank’s way. “Blank’s going to try and grab Akira’s nose and stop him from breathing!” Blank swats away Akira’s left arm, and begins to move in with his right one, about to grab the nose and cut off all of Akira’s air…but then he stops! Akira just wrapped Bruce’s left arm around his back! He grabs Blank’s right arm, and shoves it through the hole he created! “THAT WAS A TRAP BY AKIRA! BRILLIANT!” Akira yell—er…mumbles at Kivvel to get over to Blank with the microphone as he tugs away at Bruce’s enourmous arms. With every second that goes by both competitors lose a bit of stamina to continue the match. “DO YOU QUIT?!” “NO!” Blank screams, as Akira squeezes just a bit tighter between the arms. The arena can HEAR Blank’s ligaments tearing, just as they can FEEL each competitors desire to hold the International Championship. “DO YOU QUIT?!” “I…” Akira tugs harder, squeezing on Bruce’s arms. “I…” Akira gives it one more tug, hoping to tear something. “I QUIT!” DING DING DING! “Yes! Akira made Bruce Blank quit! The champion has be dethroned!” “LADIES AND GENTLEMAN HERE IS YOUR WINNER AND NEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIIIIOOOOON…THE DIVINE WIND…AKIRRRAAAAAA KAAAIIIBATSUUUUU!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bruce Blank 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 Well if no one else comments then I can throw in a few comments on what I think could be worked on (I'm not saying I'm perfect in these areas, I'm constantly working on stuff like this myself) 1) Selling - there is hardly any selling beyond maybe 2-3 seconds, a move like the Blank Bomb that's Bruce's finisher only affects Akira enough for Bruce to put the Straightjacket on, then it's forgotten. 2) Akira does some things to a 295 pound man that I wouldn't have figured from his stats (the twisting Pedigree and the Suicide Suplex being the two obvious ones) and just using his power to pull a hand free from Bruce's grip? if you had added a bit about sweatty hands or slipping out when Bruce adjusted his grip or something yes that's believable but Bruce with power 9 isn't someone you just pull lose from unless you're a 6 or 7 in power. 3) There was no build to the finish unless your plan was to build the Anaconda Vice as a move that's INSTANT SUBMISSION without actually working on the area it affects beforehand. Just to "Oh the wordlimit is up, let's slap it on" IMO 4) Storyline - to me it was just a bunch of back and forth action (good action don't get me wrong) but there was no real discernable story to it. my match told a clear story which was "Bruce totally underestimated Akira and really paid for it" Any other comments I'd have would probably just be nitpicking or just how I like to do stuff so I'll spare you that cause it's probably not things that would have made a difference in the match - but I think those 4 points would have made a world of difference. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Smartly Pretty 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 3) There was no build to the finish unless your plan was to build the Anaconda Vice as a move that's INSTANT SUBMISSION without actually working on the area it affects beforehand. Just to "Oh the wordlimit is up, let's slap it on" IMO ..err... “Another Superkick! He’s really setting up the neck for that Anaconda Vice, King!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bruce Blank 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 Oh silly bugger me and I thought the Anaconda Vice put pressure on the arm - is it more like a sleeper then? Still - ONE line right back I worked your injured neck every chance I got even going all Lawler on it Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 Not our best effort, clearly, but here it is... for POSTERITY~! === DING DING!!!! “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following tag team contest is YOUR main event!” The announcer pauses, allowing the Edmonton crowd to revel in the card as it’s developed all night and as it’s about to culminate. Then, after a moment, the lights go dark. In the back, Joe Peters flicks his iPod on and turns it to Shuffle. I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind There was something so pleasant about that phase Even your emotions had an echo in so much space The infectious bassline of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” begins pounding through the Rexall Place speaker system. The fans begin to cheer for the popular, though incongruous, hit song. “You know,” says King, “this song’s about dropping acid.” “Interesting choice for Michael Stephens and Landon Maddix, then,” Mak says. “Although I don’t know whether you’re right or not. Either way, I’m not surprised Peters has it on his iPod.” And when you're out there without care Yeah I was out of touch But it wasn't because I didn't know enough I just knew too much Does that make me Crazy? Does that make me Crazy? Does that make me Crazy? Probably With a shrug, four figures appear at the top of the entrance ramp, one of the two at the front cracking his neck from side-to-side and the other spreading his arms wide, inviting the cheers - or possibly jeers - of the crowd. Meanwhile behind them are their distinctly opposite female accompaniments, one a beautiful girl next door, the other ready to pop your head off if you so much as look at her funny. Amy guzzles her Stella, and Megan pats Landon on the back. And I hope that you are having the time of your life But think twice, that's my only advice Come on now who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are, ha ha ha bless your soul you really think you're in control As the challengers make their way to the ring, the crowd cheers them on, apparently making peace with Landon’s past actions. Once they reach the ring Mike rolls in under the bottom rope while Megan holds the cables open for Landon, who whirls into the ring with his trenchcoat flying. As Landon preens, Stephens merely pulls off his personalised England soccer shirt and hurls it into the front row. A girl in a rugby shirt picks it up, cocks an eyebrow, and throws it back at him. well I think you're Crazy I think you're Crazy I think you're Crazy Just like me “Well, it looks like the challengers are ready to go,” says King, as the two former World Champions have a quick chat about strategy, with the music fading out. “They’re so up for this match. It’s a shame they’re about to get dropped a few notches.” “It’s not like they’ve got any less experience as a team than Tom and Grappler did when they got their title shot,” Mak replies. “They had, what, one match against the Dead Precedents and a handicap match under their belts? Chemistry’s important, but so’s out-and-out talent. For that, you can’t beat Two Skinny White Guys.” The music fades out, and the lights flicker on, and then off again. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” shouts James Matheson, met with a chorus of boos from the crowd, “your main event is about to get a little more magnificent! Tonight you have the privilege of seeing, in the ring, four former Heavyweight Champions of the World, the reigning Cruiserweight Champion, and without a doubt, Canada’s favorite team. They’ve gone undefeated thus far on this tour, and tonight will be no different as YOUR Tag Team Champions will Spike-Piledrive some poor schlub and walk out with their belts still around their waists. Give it up for your Canadian Connection, TOM FLESHER AND CHARLIE MATTHEWS!” With that, flashing red lamps light up Rexall Place, and the speakers blare with the sound of... a soft Irish pipe? Every night in my dreams I see you. I feel you. That is how I know you go on. Far across the distance And spaces between us You have come to show you go on. “Uh, King?” “Shh!” snaps the Gambling Man. “I’m trying to listen to their theme!” Dressed in identical flannel shirts and toques, Tom Flesher and Charlie Matthews step through the curtain to be greeted with nothing but hostility from the crowd. Flesher carries an axehandle with him, and Matthews bears a large jug of maple syrup. “It’s well-known,” says King, “that without the aid of lumberjacks, this part of Canada would never have been settled. ... well, as settled as it is, anyway.” Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on Once more you open the door And you're here in my heart And my heart will go on and on Flesher and Matthews enter the ring, with the all-Canadian Celine Dion’s voice continuing to irritate the Edmonton fans. For their part, the Tag Team Champions look confident – Flesher wears his Cruiserweight Championship belt over one shoulder, and each man bears his Tag Team belt around his waist proudly. The music fades out as they enter the ring, and while each man sheds his belt, Funyon makes his announcement. “The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Tag Team Championships! Standing to my left are the challengers. They are accompanied by Megan Skye and Amy Stephens. At a total combined weight of 442 pounds, which is considerably below the median, they are Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix... reigning SWF World Heavyweight Champion Michael Stephens.... TWO! SKINNY! WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE GUUUUYYYYS!!!!!!” The crowd pops big for TSWG, and Landon acknowledges them by hopping onto the middle rope and raising his arms to the crowd. That muddies the reception somewhat, but nonetheless, Landon hops down satisfied. “And their opponents...” BOOOOOOOO! “Currently making their residence in Edmonton, Alberta...” (“Does it even count if they’re just staying in a hotel, King?” “Quiet, you!”) “...and weighing in at a combined 437 pounds, accompanied by the brains behind the brawn and even more brains, they are the current Tag Team Champions, Charlie “Grappler” Matthews and the SWF Cruiserweight Champion, TOM FLESHER!!!!!” The crowd boos the Champs heartily, even as Flesher raises his axehandle in solidarity. Dissatisfied with the chilly reception, he doffs his knit cap and wriggles out of his flannel shirt. Charlie Matthews does the same as Nick Soapdish comes over to take the belts. “This should be a barnburner,” says King, as Soapdish walks the belts over to Landon and Stephens and shows them the belts. He then holds them in the air as King continues, “The current World Champions of both weight divisions, the number-one contender to the Cruiserweight Championship, and the World Tag Team Champions all in one ring! I can’t wait to see how this shakes out!” Soapdish hands the belts off to an attendant and calls for the bell. DING DING DING!!!! Having won Rock-Paper-Scissors at the Saddledome, Landon finds the disinterested Stephens stepping out of the ring and leaving him to start off the match. Tom Flesher, for his part, pats Grappler on the shoulder and points to the center as he steps through the ropes. “Grappler and the Cockroach are going to be starting this one off,” says Mak. “Brilliant assessment,” yawns King. “Jesus, Mak, I wasn’t expecting much from you, but I thought you’d at least improve somewhat over the past few months. Are you actively trying to unlearn how to do color?” Matthews and Maddix circle around each other in the center. Landon looks up at Grappler, then quickly unleashes a knife-edge chop! SMACK!!!! (WHOO!) Grappler looks down at his chest, then back at Landon. Maddix cocks an eyebrow, then throws another chop. SMACK!!!! (WHOO!) Grappler looks at him quizzically. After waiting a moment, he leans forward, slamming his head into Landon’s! La Cucaracha staggers backwards, grabbing his head, and Grappler turns around to grin at his corner. Flesher golf-claps, prompting yet another wave of boos from the crowd. Matthews, meanwhile, sees that Maddix, in his momentarily-stunned state, is ripe for the picking. He grabs the much-smaller half-Spaniard by the head and pulls him back to grappling range before wrapping his arms around his ribs and lifting him into a bearhug! Almost by reflex, the crowd begins chanting. BOOOORING! BOOOORING! “Don’t listen to them, Graps!” shouts Matheson. “They don’t know what they’re talking about!” Maddix writhes in pain. He looks over at Stephens, who leans on the turnbuckle with the tag rope in his hand. He extends his arm, showing that he clearly can’t reach the center, and shrugs, then turns his attention back to Amy. “So, you thought about going back to uni?” “Kinda stupid, innit!” Landon sighs (in pain!), but, in a move not many have ever successfully executed, he first fires off two forearms to the chest, and then uses both his cruiserweight speed and Grappler’s already-glistening forearm sweat to slip free out of the bearhug! On his knees, Landon ducks under Matthews’ legs and charges to the ropes, but as he rebounds against them, he gets a knee smash to his lower back, courtesy of the new Cruiserweight Champion! “Oh come on!” Mak complains, “Landon was able to successfully free himself from the bearhug before it caused too much damage (physical damage, at least), but Flesher is right there with the illegal blindside attack.” “Mak, it’s just smart tag team wrestling. What’s the ref gonna do, yell at you? Seriously, when was the last time a team actually got disqualified for too much illegal activity? Plus, if they’re disqualified they keep the belts. It’s a win-win for the champions. Hoooooo!” Tom, in fact, doesn’t even get yelled at, as referee Nick Soapdish simply glares at him. Maddix, meanwhile, doubles over in pain, allowing Grappler to slowly lift his big arm up…and bring the hammer down with a forearm smash! “Do it again!” Flesher orders from ringside, and Grappler gladly obliges. He then places Maddix in a standing headscissors, giving Tom a big hokey thumbs-up before flipping Landon up onto his shoulders—surprisingly early—for a powerbomb! “GAH! MY EYE!” Landon Maddix must have a badass edge to him. After a thumb to the eye of the powerbomber, the powerbombee pushes off of Matthews’ shoulders and kicks his legs forward, vaulting backwards off of his chest with a big Dropsault that takes both men down! The crowd roars as Grappler scurries to his feet, as he’s met with another knife-edge chop! SMACK!!!!! (WHOO!) Grappler quickly (as quick as he can, at least) tries to reply with a headbutt as he did before, but this time Maddix ducks it, charges to a set of ropes where he can’t be blindsided, and jumps to the second rope, springboarding off and turning with a flying forearm that again drops Matthews to the canvas! Maddix follows with a lateral press on the tag champion, but the big hoss kicks out (with AUTHORITY~!) before even a one count is administered. Both men rise to their feet, Maddix with a confident smirk and Matthews with frustration, as evidenced by his growling and kicking at the bottom rope. So, he tags in Tom Flesher! “I can’t believe what I’ve just seen!” Mak chimes in. “No, I thought the same thing,” King interrupts, “that isn’t Scott Keith in the front row. Turns out there are TONS of people in Edmonton who are that ugly.” Mak sighs, before, “that, and the fact that Landon Maddix has totally owned, if you will, Charlie Matthews in the opening stages of this contest!” “I will not!” King disagrees, “Whether Landon has changed styles or not, that flippy-floppy nonsense will get him nowhere against a powerhouse like Grap or the greatest technical wrestler in the world like, well, Tom Flesher. Plus, Charlie was an innocent victim to that awful sneak attack by JJ Johnson earlier tonight.” “Yes, a sneak attack. Excellent unbiased reporting, King.” Maddix looks to his corner and sees his partner Michael Stephens, who shrugs as if to suggest that, yeah, he wouldn’t mind being tagged in, but Landon’s doing pretty well so he might as well continue. Landon can read this look and advances towards the Cruiserweight Champ, who calls for a collar-elbow tie. La Cucaracha nods and comes closer— BAM! --right into a wicked thumb to the eye! “THAT’S how you do it!” Flesher reprimands, as clearly Maddix had poor form in his previous attempt on Grappler. Flesher traps Maddix in a tight front facelock and walks him over to his own corner, releasing the hold at Soapdish’s fourth count. As he holds his hands in the air and asks Soapdish how the Oilers could have possibly let down their hometown fans in the Cup Finals, Charlie Matthews wraps his tag rope around Maddix’s throat, choking the life out of him! “Oh come on!” Mak complains (he’s been doing a lot of that tonight), “It’s obvious that this match is more about softening up the number one contender, Landon Maddix, for his eventual match with Flesher than it is about the tag team titles!” With Flesher and Soapdish finally in agreement that it was due to poor goaltending, Grappler releases the tag rope and shoves the Cockroach towards his partner, who easily traps him in a bearhug and shoots him overhead, dropping him across the ring with a big railgun suplex! *SMACK!* …Unfortunately, Flesher did not take into account his ring position, as Maddix was able to roll right into a tag with the World Champion, Michael Stephens! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Flesher nods, and again calls for a collar-elbow tie, but Stephens doesn’t take the bait, instead opting to charge forward and drive his knee into Flesher’s gut, much to the delight of the crowd! He quickly unleashes two short elbows to the temples of the Cruiserweight Champion, before wrapping his arm around Flesher’s head and flipping him over with a headlock takeover…but the more astute mat wrestler holds on and brings Stephens down to the mat, almost in an armdrag! The Superior One holds onto the pumphandle armbar from this position, but Stephens is fresh and is able to easily rise to his feet, reversing into an arm wringer of his own. Flesher groans at this trivial attempt at counterwrestling and ducks through with a hammerlock, before simply *SMACK!* --slapping the back of Stephens’ head, to the chagrin of the challengers and the Edmonton fans. Matthews and Matheson, of course, golf clap. “Flesh doesn’t take Stephens all that seriously, does he, King?” “Why would he? He’s just keeping that belt warm until Taamo wants to take it back and lead both weight classes and the tag division.” Mak rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, he’s not that good.” “All he’d need then is the Hardcore Title! I’m telling you, Mak, he’s the WAVE OF THE FUTURE~!” With the hammerlock still in place, Tom executes a deft inside trip, taking Michael Stephens back to the mat. Stephens wriggles, trying to free his arm, as Flesher plants a knee on his back. From there, Flesher reaches down and applies a side headlock, then sits out and leans on the World Champion’s neck. Stephens struggles, trying to peel off the tight headlock. As he does, Flesher leans on him, smirking at his applauding partner and manager. As he does, though, Stephens kicks a leg up and hooks Tom by the head, pulling him down out of the headlock and into a head scissors grip. Flesher rolls his eyes, grabbing Stephens’ ankles and peeling them apart. “Jesus, that’s not even close,” Flesher says, throwing the Straight-Edger’s limbs off to the side. “If you’re not even going to try I might as well just tag Grap in and let him take it.” “Tom makes an interesting point,” says King. “And what’s that?” King pauses, like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... well... if you don’t get it, I’m not going to explain it to you.” Stephens, for his part, merely scoots back, slapping a body scissors onto Flesher as he pouts. Tom leans over, looking utterly disinterested in the whole affair... until Michael snakes one leg up and slaps on a half leg-nelson! Flesher reaches up, knowing that the leg-nelson can’t be good, but he can’t peel off one foot before the other follows it up! Mike rolls over, pinning Flesher’s shoulders to the mat with the leg-nelson! Soapdish counts ONE!!!! TWO!!!! KICKOUT!!!!! “And Stephens draws first blood this time around!” says Mak, suitably impressed that for once the man with the crown on his head is actually king. “He surprises Taamo and gets a near-fall!” “Near fall, schmear fall,” King says. “Toxxic can get all the back points he wants. This isn’t freestyle, and all that matters at the end of the day is who pinned whose shoulders to the mat.” A mildly surprised Flesher breaks free after his kickout and rolls to his stomach, watching Stephens leerily. He stands up, facing off with Stephens once more. Tom crouches down, watching Michael for any defensive movement. When Stephens doesn’t fall into Tom’s defensive trap, the Cruiserweight Champion looks back, reaches out his hand, and tags the Grappler back in. “Look at that!” says Mak. “He doesn’t want to see Stephens until after he’s given Charlie a chance to beat up on him! What a coward!” “Oh, come on,” King says. “You don’t understand tag team strategy because you never had a decent partner. I mean, come on. CIA?!” Grappler enters the ring as James Matheson hops onto the apron and hands Tom a towel for his brow. Stephens squares off with Grappler, only to be clubbed on the neck with a meaty forearm. (“That looked…eerily similar to the last move he did.” “Hush, you.”) Matthews grabs Stephens and pulls him in, this time applying a headlock of his own! Except, without the mat expertise of his partner and a huge weight advantage, Grappler sees fit to just stand there and wrench in the headlock. Referee Nick Soapdish does his job and checks with Stephens for a potential submission (ha!), but even he gets bored after doing so, and begins to tap his foot on the canvas impatiently. “Don’t lose focus!” Flesher coaches from the corner, “Keep that bicep flexed!” And does Matthews ever. So much so that a familiar chant begins to flare up in Edmonton. BOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOORING! Stephens meekly tries to fire off some elbows and fists to Matthews’ midsection, but to no avail. “YEAH, BABY!” Matthews shouts out of nowhere, which only serves to infuriate the crowd. “I mean, it’s almost been a minute now,” Mak sighs. “Good things come to those who wait,” King mocks, “except Michael Stephens, obviously. He’s just going to eventually get hit really really hard.” And it’s at about this time that Landon Maddix has had enough. He charges into the ring to break up the headlock, but Nick Soapdish is RIGHT THERE to stop him! This allows Grappler to finally relinquish the headlock, pound Stephens’ neck with his forearm (again!), and make the international “clap for a heel team’s false tag,” allowing Flesher to reenter the ring. Grappler hoists Stephens into the air in another bearhug, while his lighter partner backs into the ropes, builds up enough momentum and leaps into the air, taking Stephens down with a tandem Hart Attack! “THAT WAS FOR YOU, CANADA!” Matheson squeals. The fans aren’t happy. Soapdish turns around, stupidly accepts the false tag, and counts the lateral press that Flesher has on Stephens! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!!! The crowd breathes a sigh of relief, but the World Champion doesn’t, as Flesher rises to his knees to argue the count, his shin conveniently and inconspicuously placed across the throat of Michael Stephens! Soapdish finally notices and begins his five count, but Flesher stares him right in the eyes and counts along with him, finally releasing at 4.6. “That was beautiful,” a tear comes to King’s eye, “I couldn’t have done it better myself.” “The champions are bringing out every dirty trick in the book tonight,” Mak agrees, “and I—along with these Edmonton fans—am just waiting to see them finally get their comeuppance from what I think is the top team in the SWF today.” “Oh, you would,” King groans, “if Flesher and Grappler win tonight (which they will), will you finally accept their superiority—pun intended!—over the rest of the Fed? Or will it take another Burning Hammer to bring you to your senses?” *SMACK* Let’s face it, King had that one coming. Tom Flesher drags Michael Stephens up to a standing position, but the World Champion immediately drops back down, shooting his legs at Flesher’s and causing The Superior One’s knees to buckle from the basement dropkick. With Tom on all fours, Stephens quickly rolls over him perpendicularly and twists over with an Oklahoma (Nottingham?) Roll! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Not to be outdone, Flesher scrambles to his feet, but the former Toxxic is waiting for him with a well-placed kick to the gut before applying a quick half-nelson in one hand and Flesher’s waist in the other, sitting out and driving his face into the canvas. Even after this Stephens doesn’t let up, as he maintains the half-nelson and rolls Tom into another pin! ONE! TWO! ANOTHER KICKOUT! This time, the Superior One decides it might be a better idea to stay on the ground for a second. As he does so, however, Stephens makes a quick tag to Landon Maddix. Utilizing the five-count, as the World Champion holds Tom still on the mat, the number one contender slingshots into the ring, flipping over and landing a perfect legdrop on Flesher, following it right up by spinning three hundred and sixty degrees and dropping another leg! At the behest of his partner, Landon wraps up Flesher in a tight cradle for yet another pin! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! “I never would have expected this!” Mak cries, more enthusiastically, “Tom Flesher has become the victim of quick pins and strong tag team wrestling, usually found in his own repertoire!” King fumes silently. Flesher rolls out of the pin and rises to his knees, and a flashing lightbulb—or is it a shining wizard?—creeps across Landon’s face. He backs against the ropes in preparation for his wicked knee, but the crowd deflates as the wicked James Matheson grabs onto Landon’s knee as he hits the ropes! Maddix turns to give the Manager of Champions™ the what-for— *BOOM!* --only to be clobbered by the huge lariat of Charlie Matthews, who showed tremendous athleticism in running across the ring apron! “Now THAT is strong tag team wrestling,” King finally adds, beaming. “I was waiting for that.” Flesher, back to his feet, brings Landon up and shoves him against the Corner of Champions™, tagging in the big burly monstrosity known as Charlie Matthews. Before Grappler enters the ring, however, he holds Maddix in place, allowing the Superior One to back up to mid-ring, charging in before lifting his leg up— *WHAM!* --and slamming Maddix with a huge Yakuza Kick in the corner! Satisfied, the partners exchange, allowing Charlie to bring Landon out of the corner, snapmare him onto his buttocks, and wrap an arm tightly around his head with a chinlock! “Now before you say anything,” King leers at Mak, “the chinlock makes perfect sense here because it focuses on the head of Landon, which just got rocked by the Yakuza Kick. It’s something we wrestlers call psychology.” “Or, alternatively, an opportunity to catch his breath and bore the crowd to death,” Mak sighs. And that certainly appears to be the situation at hand. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING! LET’S – GO – MADD – IX!! *clap-clap clap-clap-clap* But suddenly the chants stop, and instead the crowd’s cheering grows… *BAM!* …as Michael Stephens enters the ring, performing a front dropkick to Grappler’s face, successfully breaking the chinlock! THANK – YOU – TOXXIC! The world champion smirks as Nick Soapdish directs him back to his corner, but unfortunately for Maddix, Tom Flesher is much more versed in entering illegally, doing so behind Soapdish’s back to simply step on Maddix’s face, turning his heel on Landon’s face not unlike the late Eddie Guerrero before exiting the ring cleanly. “For the impressionable children watching at home,” King grins, “that is exactly the way to cheat. Not directly in front of the referee, like that British git.” “If only all of the world’s children would grow up to be just like Tom Flesher,” groans Mak. “Alien cultures from all over the universe would come to mate with perfection.” The attack on both legal competitors brings them back to square one, as they both slowly rise to their feet. Maddix lunges at Matthews’ midsection with what appears to be a headbutt, but the stronger Grappler absorbs the blow and uses Landon’s momentum to hold him tightly in a gutwrench, snapping him up and slamming the Cockroach down with a power bomb out of nowhere! Matthews immediately drops to his knees, however, and crawls over, using the opening to tag in Tom Flesher instead of going for the pin. “Smart move by the Grappler,” says King. “He gets a fresh man in the ring to beat down on the opponent, and he gets to play to the Canadian crowd. It’s win-win!” Landon starts to get to his feet. Flesher lies in wait, and as soon as Landon gets back to his feet, he eats a stepping palm strike. Before he falls back down, Flesher grabs him in a front facelock and snap-suplexes him straight back onto the canvas. From there, he teases a cover. Landon instinctively bellies down to avoid being pinned, only to be grabbed around the waist in a gutwrench! Flesher lifts him up and slings him over one shoulder in a Canadian backbreaker. He waits there for a moment...before dropping to one knee, nearly snapping the svelte Spaniard in half with a Derailleur! He deposits Maddix on the mat, and once again covers him. Maddix rolls over again, acting only on reflex, and with a smirk on his face, Flesher takes a seat on his back. “Brilliant move by Flesher!” says King. “He nailed Landon’s back, and he was either going to get the pin or a submission out of it. Maddix bellied down, and so here comes the Camel Clutch!” As promised, Flesher reaches down, grabbs Maddix by the chin and leans back. Maddix manages to keep one hand free, but even as he pulls himself toward the sidelines, Flesher’s low-risk offense drains his stamina. As Tom torques Landon’s back, the Next Generation Superstar manages to reach out and grab the bottom rope. The fans groan, disappointed that one of the heels is being released from a hold, even as Flesher cranks the camel clutch. Nick Soapdish counts ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, Flesher stands up, sighing that he couldn’t get the submission. As he backs away, Landon gets to his knees. Soapdish admonishes Flesher for keeping the hold as long as he did, while Flesher argues vainly for his innocence. Meanwhile, Maddix takes advantage of Nick’s diverted attention to... SPROING~! King gasps. Mak winces. Nick Soapdish pretends he didn’t see anything. Flesher doubles over in pain as Maddix stands up, trying to loosen the wrenched muscles in his back while Flesher tries to loosen the wrenched muscles in his scrotum. Even so, he realizes that he only has a few moments to take advantage of Flesher’s sore, battered testicles, and so he grabs Flesher in a three-quarter facelock. He sprints over to the corner, ushering Herrington out of the way as he sprints up the turnbuckles. As he hits the top one, he moonsaults, flipping over Flesher and coming crashing to the mat with a sitout Sliced Bread #2! “LABERINTO’S REVENGE!” screams Mak. “SUNNY IN ENGLAND! SAME DIFFERENCE,” he yells, as Landon pops back up to cheers from the crowd! Staggering, the man who could survive a nuclear holocaust unscathed leans toward his corner and falls... tagging in Michael Stephens!!!! The crowd, simply put, explodes! “And now it’s time for Taamo to pay the piper!” shouts Mak. “Michael isn’t about to let this one go. It’s a chance to show his challenger exactly what he thinks of him, and Flesher’s in no shape to do anything about it!” Stephens measures Tom up, then hits him with a right! A left! A right! A left! As the crowd cheers, he flips Flesher the fuck-you V-sign, and then spins around with a discus clothesline! Flesher ducks the clothesline, only to eat a discus punch to the face as Stephens continues the rotation! Tom collapses to the mat, and Michael covers him for ONE!!! TWO!!!! NO! Flesher kicks out and rolls to his stomach. Charlie Matthews immediately reaches out and taps Nick Soapdish on the shoulder, getting his attention by pulling him to corner. Soapdish protests, trying to turn his attention back to the match, but Matthews keeps his attention by stepping into the ring. As Soapdish orders him to exit the ring, James Matheson slides the briefcase into the ring. Flesher grabs it and rolls over, slamming it into Michael’s forehead! The SWF World Champion collapses to the mat as the fans begin a “YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!” chant. Meanwhile, the smirking Flesher slides the briefcase back out of the ring, the prominent new dent hidden by James Matheson. “No,” shouts Mak, “Not like this!” Matthews steps out of the ring, hands in the air, proclaiming his innocence. As Landon Maddix stirs in the corner, though, the Grappler steps down from the apron and sprints over to his corner. He grabs Landon by the leg and pulls him off the apron, then clobbers him with an overhand right! Maddix staggers back, but throws another knife-edge chop to hit the former World Champion in the chest. Matthews steps back, and they continue brawling at ringside. Back in the ring, Flesher grabs the stunned Stephens by the head and lifts him to his feet. He pulls Michael’s left arm behind his own left leg, then slaps on a front facelock. With the leg-capture fisherman’s suplex set up, Flesher ducks his head under Stephens’ right arm. Then, he lifts him into the air. The crowd gasps. Tom turns his adversary upside-down, perfectly vertical above the mat. As if in slow motion, he calls to the mat. As if in slow motion, Stephens follows. As if in slow motion, he lands, head-first, on the mat. “CAFFEINE BOMB~!” shouts King, cheering on the Cruiserweight Champion. The crowd showers Flesher with boos, but Tom, for his part, ignores them and merely rolls Michael Stephens onto his back and hooks his leg. Unaware of the move’s illegal set-up, Nick Soapdish counts ONE!!!! Landon looks into the ring. Alarmed, he tries to slide in to break up the fall. TWO!!!!! Grappler grabs him by the ankle, stopping Landon just inches from Stephens and Flesher! He pulls Landon back out, dropping him ineffectually onto the concrete, just as Soapdish counts THREE!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!! Flesher leaps off the mat, hurting but elated at his successful defense of the Tag Team Championships! Landon, irate, throws fists at Grappler, who staggers back, taking the brunt of the blows. “The number-one contender is NOT happy,” says Mak, “at having his shot at the Tag Titles stolen from him by James Matheson and his briefcase!” “Stolen?! Do you think Amy Stephens would hesitate to interfere if it would help them win the titles? No, they just didn’t create the opportunity! It’s Two Skinny White Guys’ fault that they lost, not James Matheson’s!” As Landon throws more blows at the Grappler, Flesher looks to the outside. With a sadistic glint in his eye, he sprints to the sideline, drops to the mat, and hammers Landon in the back of the head with a baseball slide dropkick! Landon stumbles forward, and the Grappler grabs him by the torso. Then, with the deliberate pace he’s best known for, Matthews lifts Landon off the cement floor and slams him back down with a power bomb! The crowd continues booing, louder every second. As Maddix lays on the concrete, and Stephens is still unconscious from having his own Caffeine Bomb used against him, Flesher and Grappler snatch up their Tag Team Titles from the timekeeper’s table. “The winners of the match,” Funyon announces, “and STILL SWF Tag Team Champions... TOM FLESHER and CHARLIE... GRAPPLER... MAAAAAAAAATTHEWS!!!!!” Each man hoists his belt high in the air as Matheson joins them at the table. “They stole that defense!” snaps Mak. “They stole it, and Flesher’s just using Matthews to beat up on the top contender to his Cruiserweight Championship!” “It’s strategy, Mak, and it’s paying off! The Champions are two of the smartest guys ever to step into an SWF ring, and at this rate, they’ll have those belts for a long, long time!” As the camera trains on Flesher tapping his temple, one belt over each shoulder, we fade to black. =-=-=-=-= SWF Smarkdown, August 14, 2006. © Acid Rayn Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Smartly Pretty 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 It's an arm chokish thing. Neck and arm. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Toxxic 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 Tom and Graps' match gets awesomeness points from me on the basis that it featured an adapted quote from Alex Shelley. However, I feel much more should have been done with the line about Flesher being more experienced at entering illegally. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 You know who knows about me entering illegally? YOUR GIRLFRIEND lolz Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Toxxic 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 Unless you look either like me or Alex Shelley, I don't think you'd have a chance sunshine. And I know you look neither like me nor Alex Shelley. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0 Report post Posted August 16, 2006 Alex Shelly stole my haircut. And Akira is gay. LOLZ Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bruce Blank 0 Report post Posted August 17, 2006 It's an arm chokish thing. Neck and arm.So a sleeper? I always wondered how a sleeper made people say "I quit" or tap - they pass out from it Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Angel_Grace_Blue 0 Report post Posted August 17, 2006 Theys taps sos theys don'ts passes outs froms its and gets the butts sexs. lolzs Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
JJ Johnson 0 Report post Posted August 17, 2006 AKIRA FAILS AT WRESTLING MOVE DESCRIPTION, AUGUST 14th 2006 EDITION The TenzAnaconda Vice, the original, is a side-seated top wristlock. The CM PunAconda Vice is a side seated arm triangle choke. Since it says in Akira's stats that his move is not to be confused with Punk's move, one must assume that he means the Tenzan version, which has no sleeper anywhere in it. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Angel_Grace_Blue 0 Report post Posted August 17, 2006 Guess you should have taught him better, JJ. So, technically, you fail, lollerz. Lobster hamster mobster monster. poop>qooq^dood>boob UNCANNY! Uncanny - that which is unable to be canned. My hatred of canned waffles is uncanny. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Sly 0 Report post Posted August 22, 2006 What would we do without JJ? Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Smartly Pretty 0 Report post Posted August 22, 2006 Sign off. INSIDE JOKE ALERT and o yea i changed the anaconda vice so i can use it like that again lozl Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
