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SWF Smarkdown - 9-12-2006

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“Bloody hell, Landon!”


Three guesses who’s talking.


“Oh no, let’s not look beyond the sodding Tag Title match,” Michael Stephens growls, glowering at his tag team partner, “Lord help us, let’s not do that! So, tell you what; instead of me facin’ Gabe, seeing as how I used to train with him an’ what have you and might actually have a friggin’ clue about who he is and what he does, why don’t you, the other half of our team, go in there and nearly get yer head taken off and yer leg broke cos you haven’t got a bloody idea what the man’s like!?”


“You know, you could have warned me about him…” Landon mutters.


“And say what?” Stephens enquires acidly, “warn you not to get so self-obsessed that you don’t notice when some psychotic bastard’s coming up behind you to cave yer skull in? Christ, I’d have thought that you might’ve worked that one out seeing as how you’ve been in the business for a couple of years. Sort of self-preservation, you might say.”


“I’ve had worse that this,” Landon replies, “off you, actually.” He brushes past Mike to grab his boots, then pulls them on and starts lacing them up. “Bruce was pretty banged up after the Blood and THUNDER match, so it’s not like they’re fresh either. We’ll go out there and beat them, and then,” he continues, looking up at Stephens, “I might go and see Joe Peters again about your friend Gabe.”


“If you’re thinking of doing what I think you might be thinking of doing,” Stephens begins, and cracks a grin as Landon’s forehead wrinkles with the effort of comprehension, “then you’d best think hard.” He sits down and looks his partner in the eyes. “See, I know what Gabe used to be like, but I don’t know all that much about him now. More than you, admittedly, but not a lot. I was his best friend four years ago, but since then I slept with his girlfriend, he’s killed someone, and been to jail for four years. I imagine that sort of thing changes someone.”


"Wait, slept with his--you know what, nevermind." Landon begins to asks, but stops seeing his partner's face. “So what do you know?” Landon adds. Mike pulls a face at that.


“Well, he’s a twenty-five year-old rookie. He was always a top prospect at the academy, but he’s been on ice for four years. He’s still getting back into the swing of things, I can see that. He won’t have the ring knowledge of someone like you or me, won’t have the instincts, probably won’t have the conditioning yet either. In a plain, vanilla match with no baggage, you or me should be able to take him.”


“I figured on that, but where's the but?” Maddix adds. "There's always a but."


“But Gabe was always good at getting in people’s heads,” Stephens shrugs. “Back in the day he’d be able to work out what your strengths and weaknesses were, what would throw you, what you’d be able to counter, that sort of thing. These days… well,” he sighs, “I wouldn’t put it past him to try some real mind games. Try and get you in a situation where the fact that he’s green won’t matter so much. Something to limit your advantages.” Stephens pauses, then grins. “So he might try and get you to agree to a wrestling match.”


“Pot, kettle,” Landon grunts, standing up. “You going to make smart remarks all day, or come and help me defend our titles?”


“You’re getting cranky in yer old age, Landon,” Stephens replies, standing up and grabbing his Tag Title and the World Title. “What happened to happy, bouncy Landon?”


“He got hit in the head with a chair,” Maddix replies, “but don’t worry - the moment our music hits, I’m sure I’ll be alright!”


“Yeah, what’re we coming out to tonight?”


“Wait and see my friend, wait and see…”

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...
Live, Monday, September 11th, from the Ivor Wynne Stadium in Hamilton, Ontario!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)
(Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3)



Michael Stephens and Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix vs. Bruce Blank and Nemesis

---> Bruce Blank and Nemesis, known as those huggable, loveable Weapons of Mass Destruction, took down Johnsonosity to earn their shot at Tag Team Gold. But Michael Stevens has proven to be something of a road block for Bruce, on more than one occasion. Then again, I'm not sure how good Landon is feeling after Gabriel Drake destroyed him on Lockdown! Can Team Brumesis capitalize on Landon's injuries and pull out the upset?
Rules: Standard tag team match.


---> For the third show in a row, The House of Marvelous will bring out a mystery interviewee of GREAT MAGNITUDE~! We've had The Birdman... we've had Johnny Dangerous... who's it going to be for lucky number three?


Tom Flesher vs. Johnny Dangerous~!

---> With Tom Flesher set to Main Event Genesis, it only makes sense that he warm up against a main event wrestler! Johnny Dangerous returned to grace the set of the House of Marvelous, and the reaction was so overwhelming that he's staying on! And tonight, his first match is a real doozie - two former, and potentially future, World Heavyweight Champions collide in the first of two Main Event Matches!
Rules: Standard singles. I doubt Tom will make Cruiser weight. :P


Zyon vs. Birdman

---> MAD CRUISER ACTION~! Since the Cruiserweight Champion gained a few pounds, we can't really count on him to provide us with some high-flying action. Instead, two of the top Cruisers in the fed collide, and the winner will go on to face the Cruiserweight Champion some time after Genesis!
Rules: Cruiser rules!


"The Beast" Gabriel Drake vs. Michael Cross

---> Gabriel Drake may be undefeated, but it's hard to defend that when he's jumping people backstage! I doubt he and Landon are finished, but La Cucaracha's got a title match tonight, so Drake continues his trek up the card against Michael Cross!
Rules: Standard singles match.


Mike Van Siclen vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu

---> Mike Van Siclen is at the BREAKING POINT~! with these Wildchild shenanigans. He's been attacked, humiliated, pranked, and even had birds ripping the flesh from his boooooooones... Some might say this provides Akira with the advantage, but really, I wouldn't want to be in the ring with a guy that's this pissed off. Well... uh... sucks to be you, Akira! :P
Rules: Standard singles match.


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(akira comes out lol)


im the lady to mess with, and stuff


(mvs comes out lol)


mvs submits to the awesomeness of akira's entrance music lol

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As Smarkdown returns, we are back in the locker room area where Jay Hawke and the cloaked man who saved him from Bruce Blank at Lockdown are seated on benches.


Hawke: "So how long are you going to be around this time?"


???: "As long as I'm needed."


While the conversation isn't actually over, Ben Hardy appears in the locker room. Doesn't he ever knock? Without saying a word, the cloaked figure turns and leaves as Jay Hawke puts a hand on Hardy's chest to keep him from entering further.


Hardy: "Excuse me, Jay, but I was hoping to find out who that is."


Hawke: "You'll find out soon enough, Hardy, but I'm glad you're here. I assume you want some comments about my match with Bruce Blank at Genesis."


Hardy: "No, I just wanted to..."


Hawke: "See, it goes like this. I look at a guy like Bruce Blank. A guy who made his name in ultraviolent matches. And he's among the best to have ever taken part in that division, no doubt about that. But now he's playing my game. Now he's holding my title. See, for 274 days, I defended the International Championship against all comers. For 274 days, I single-handedly made that championship mean something. But for it to be around Bruce Blank's waist is sickening. The fact that he's got the belt that I made a prized possession in this sport sickens me. And he must be stopped. Bruce, I'm not taking anything away from you. It's not going to be easy. But that title is me. And I am that title. Sunday night, it's just you and me. No Nemesis, no Michael Cross, no Wayne Blank, no Professor Attenborough. You won't see my partner out there. Genesis is our World Series. Our Super Bowl. Our Stanley Cup. Our proving grounds. For you to prove yourself worthy of holding one of the top titles in our industry at our proving grounds, you've got to do it without outside interference, because if you get disqualified you can lose that title. You've got to do it without weapons. You've got to beat me in a wrestling match. And who knows? Maybe Sunday night will be your night. But win, lose, or draw, I'm going to teach you a wrestling lesson you won't forget, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Now Hardy, if you'll excuse me, get out of my locker room so I can watch the World Tag Team Title match and get some last-minute scouting in."


Hardy: "Well, there you have it. He's intense, and he's ready to--"


Jay Hawke pushes Ben Hardy out the door, saying "I said GET OUT!" as he slams the door.


Hawke: "Just once you'd think someone would listen around here!"

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“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, live from the sold out Ivor Wynn Stadium in Hamilton…Ontario, Canada!” Mak Francis beams, his ever present Oakley shades in place. “The one and only ‘Franchise’ Mak Francis here alongside the Suicide King, bringing you the content like no other duo can on the final stop of the Road to Genesis Seven!”


“Bringing you the content?!” King sputters. “What are we, on some internet message board or something?”


“Actually yes, but anyway tonight’s second match on the card is between Gabriel Drake and Michael Cross, neither of which would be considered fan favorites.”


“You act like that’s a bad thing.” King responds. “So what if the fans jeer you. It’s not like the fans opinions matter anyway. And even if they did, the show must go on and all that.”


Apparently the tech monkeys believe that’s a good segue into Queens “The Show Must Go On” which blares through the stadium, as flashing red light illuminate the entire arena. Suddenly, Mike Cross pushes his way through the curtain and hood covering his eyes, stands on the stage. Raising his arms in the air, Cross crosses his hands high and with his head down, strolls towards ringside.


“The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” Funyon states, “Currently making his way to the ring, from Detroit, Michigan, weighing in tonight at two hundred and thirty-seven pounds, he is ‘IRON’… MICHAEL… CRRRROOOOOSSSSSSSSSS!”


Cross steps through the ring ropes and walks to center ring, throwing back his hoodie to reveal dark beady blue eyes. Mike takes off his jacket, as he moves into his corner, tossing it over the ropes and to an outside attendant.


“Well, at least Cross came out first-” Mak says, already seeing King’s why coming and preempting it. “-Because then he’ll be able to see Drake coming when he tries to jump him.”


“Hey hypocrite,” King counters. “It’s not like Cross didn’t do something similar to Jay Hawke. Isn’t that just as bad?”


“True, King. I stand corrected.”


“Good, now that we’ve proven you’re a hypocrite, I just want to say I don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting an edge over your opponent.”


King’s last (hypocritical) comment hangs in the air, as several moments pass creating a now expected feeling of discomfort before the now familiar eerie blue light covers the arena. The Canadian crowd begins to boo in the chillingly blue-filled stadium as the opening twangs of a guitar echo through the arena. The slow melody continues and is even amplified by a flash from several bright white strobe lights. “The Devil’s Rejects” by Rob Zombie slowly takes form while the lyrics begin…


“I am the bad one… Distant and cruel one,

I am the dream that, keeps you running down…”


King continues his rant. “We all know—even you, Francis, that there isn’t anything wrong with having an edge. Gabe Drake used that edge and it helped him win!”


And with that ‘The Beast’ makes his way through the curtain, staring out at the audience who continues to jeer. “Speak of the devil…” The Franchise adds, as Drake, illuminated by a mix of white strobes and the menacing blue hue stands still, letting everyone get a good look.


“With distraction… Violent reaction… Scars of my actions,

Watch me running out…”


“Still though,” The Suicide King begins, “Give the devil his due, Francis. Gabriel Drake didn’t get his match with Toxxic, but he damn sure got Landon Maddix, administering a beating that even I could be proud of!”


“Hell doesn't want them.

Hell doesn't need them.

Hell doesn't love them.”


“Shame he couldn’t do it in a match.” Mak responds, as Drake makes his way down the aisle. “To me, somebody only uses a sneak attack when they think they’re outmatched. Not that I won’t give Drake his props, King, but you put those two in an actual athletic contest and in my opinion—and probably a few others, Landon Maddix may hold the advantage.” Mak remarks as the song comes to a crescendo, while Funyon prepares to speak.


“And his opponent,” Funyon states, “Currently making his way to the ring, from Athens, Georgia, weighing in tonight at two hundred and fifty-eight pounds, he is ‘THE BEAST’… GABRIEL DRRRRRRRRAAAAAKKKKKKEEEE!”


Drake climbs the ring steps and moves onto the apron, wiping his feet before swinging his legs through the ropes. Now inside the ring, Drake slides into his corner not even hitting the turnbuckle to receive his now customary second wave of boos, during his entrance.


“The Devil's Rejects… Rejects…”


As tonight’s referee Nick Soapdish checks him for foreign objects he doesn’t even look at the fans, forgoing his normal routine and staring Mike Cross down. While Soapdish pats down Cross and the Michigan native doesn’t look down either, his eyes not wavering from the Beast in front of him.


“The devil’s rejects… rejects…”


“Cross hasn’t taken his eyes off Drake and Drake has been staring at Cross like he’s raped and pillaged his family.” Mak adds, as Soapdish moves away to signal for the bell. “This should be a violent match.”




“And there’s the bell—odd, I didn’t see anybody jump anybody.” King notes, as Drake and Cross turn the circle, testing the ropes as they go. Coming center ring, Cross offers his hand for a test of strength. Linking fingers tentatively, Mike and Gabe wiggle their other hands trying to draw the other into making the first move. Finally, after much cajoling, Cross links hands with Drake and they push against each other!


“Ha-ha, King.” Francis deadpans. “Greco-Roman Knuckle-lock and it seems that these two are on fairly equal footing.” Mak calls and he is correct as neither man has gained much of an advantage. “At six foot two inches, two hundred thirty-seven pounds, Cross is giving up a lot to the larger Drake, but he’s holding his own-” Just as Mak begins to talk Michael’s power up, he goes one step further and ducks his head under Gabe’s armpit, lifting him in a modified Overhead Belly-to-Belly throw! “-and more it seems! Cover off that modified Northern Lights, King!” Soapdish hits the mat and counts…







…No. Barely a one count, as Drake slams his fist into Mike’s side! Then, wrapping his arms around Cross, Gabe arches upwards lifting them both off the mat in a back bridge! “Drake’s no slouch either, Francis,” King adds, “but once again your bias shows through. Look at that bridge out!” Now up to their feet, Gabe and Mike twirl around locking arms back to back as they go. Both wrestlers pull at the other, trying to tip the scales in their favor while they fight to backslide their opponent over! Finally, Drake is able to drop to his knees, which increases his control over the struggle and allows him to get the pin, as Soapdish counts…







…No. Mike barely misses a two count, as Cross rolls through at the top, getting his shoulders off the mat! “That was one hell of a display of power.” Mak concedes, as Mike Cross lands into a crouch and immediately shoots forward grabbing a front headlock. Drake instantaneously sprawls attempting to stave off the attack, but trying to take control of the situation, ‘Iron’ Mike turns to the side with the headlock still in place and wraps his free left arm underneath Gabe’s leg, somersaulting overhead in an Oklahoma roll!










…No! The Beast frees his body from the pinning predicament! Both men spring away from each other not wanting to succumb to any more pin-fall opportunities. The crowd gives their opinion on that exchange, as they stand…




“Not quite the reaction you’d expect after that pin exchange, but the Beast opened my eyes with that counter. That takes a lot of skill not to mention power!”


“Cross’s no slouch either, Francis,” King adds snickering, “but once again your bias shows through. That was an excellent counter sequence ending with that Oklahoma roll and besides, who cares what the crowd thinks?”


“Okay, I get the point.” Mak says rolling his eyes. “I’m a hypocrite. I’m biased. Then why the hell do I have this job?”


“Affirmative action?”


King shrinks away in fear though he isn’t able to avoid the glare from Francis who seems to be contemplating a backhand to the mouth for his last comment. Meanwhile, in the ring both competitors have gotten to their feet and come crashing together in a collar and elbow tie-up! Cross initiates the grapple thrusting against Drake, but neither budges, so he breaks the hold! Moving back and then lunging forward, Drake smirks, his eyes dancing as he initiates this time, but Cross mows ahead with a surge of power, beginning to win the battle, so Gabe breaks quickly shoving ‘Iron’ Mike away! Cross just stares at Gabe not even a hint of doubt on his features that he’s the stronger of the two.


“We’ve got something of a stalemate.” Mak notes, while Cross continues his stone cold gaze and Gabe gives him a dark look. “Cross added about ten pounds of muscle on and it’s serving him well tonight against Drake. He’s negated his opponent’s normal power advantage and even proved to be slightly superior!”


“This is a battle that won’t be won on pure strength. Gabe’s advantage has and always will be in the leverage department.”


Each wrestler staring down their opponent, they come together one more time. Once again, Cross is able to get a slight advantage over Drake, but this time Gabe slides into a side headlock grinding in the hold! Cross reaches up, trying to pry the Beast’s hands from his head, but Drake feels this and rotates around behind him into a back waistlock! Although Cross is a rookie, he is very technically sound and the former Cruiserweight champion widens his stance before deliberate executing a perfect standing switch!


“Excellent standing switch by Cross.”


“What happened to your violent match, Francis?” King asks. “This looks like an excellent technical display to me.”


Going through all his options, Drake attempts to fire off a back elbow, but Cross is too close for it to land. Prying at Cross’s hands Gabe breaks his grip, slowly lifting Mike’s arms as he struggles to reapply the hold. Seeing an opportunity, Gabe drops to the ground and laces his legs with Cross’s pulling him down to the mat face first! His leg already entwined with Cross’s, Drake reaches forward in an attempt to lock in a STF—no, Cross turns his hips and reaches back securing a side headlock in response!


“Great flexibility show by Cross during that counter, but I still think the violence is coming and in a big way, King.”


Drake slides in the hold, getting to a knee and then his feet as he guides ‘Iron’ Mike towards the ropes. Drake sends Cross to run the ropes, hitting the mat when he comes barreling back towards him and swinging overtop with a back elbow that misses the mark. Cross comes back once more, but this time Drake is ready for him and catching Cross on his shoulder, turns and whips him neck first onto the top rope!


“We’ve finally found out that he calls that Stun Gun like maneuver of his, the Devil’s Reject.”


“And it makes sense considering.” King adds, while Mike sits on the ground having trouble breathing. “It looks like he’s sending them to the fiery pits of hell with a Flapjack, but then they’re sent sprawling back off the ropes, gagging like they have to puke!”


Cross gets up, holding his throat while he gasps for air, but the Beast is standing right behind him! Drake rears back-






-and cracks Michael Cross across the face with a right open hand blow followed by a left palm strike! Spinning around Drake swings out his right for a backhand attack, but the slaps seem to have woken Cross up, as he takes a step back and ducks low shooting forward for a double leg takedown!




Sadly, his attack is thwarted by the fact that he dove directly into a straight knee to the chin! Cross’s head pops back as he is forced to stand up straight by the blow and Drake doesn’t hesitate, bouncing off the near ropes before exploding ahead with a debilitating Lariat!! The Beast isn’t content with just that though, sprinting off for the ropes, actually stepping on Cross’s stomach as he goes, before bouncing back and leaping into the air… landing with a knee to ‘Iron’ Mike’s gut!


“There’s some of that violence I was talking about, King!” Mak notes. “That’s some fast paced offence from Drake.”


Picking Cross up by the arm, Gabe guides Mike into a neutral corner and burying two shoulder thrusts into his mid-section! Pulling back-








-Gabe unloads three punches to the side of Cross’s head and then grabs him by the arm. Drake yanks Cross out of the corner in a whip, but Mike plants his feet and reverses the Drake throw! Gabe hits the turnbuckles back first and Cross measures him, pausing for a second before taking off and spring boarding off the bottom rope-




-to BLAST Drake with the sickening crack of a rising knee in the corner!! “Oh my! Did you HEAR that contact, Brian?” Mak calls, getting a ‘Damn… Hell Yeah!’ in response from King, as Cross lands back on the ground. “Cross looking for that bulldog headlock of his!” Francis adds, while Cross grabs Drake in a headlock and rushes out towards the center of the ring – only to have Gabe push him off, sending him flying towards the turnbuckles chest first! Drake follows him in recklessly, and Cross capitalizes, stopping his momentum and then vaulting overtop the incoming Beast and crisscrossing his legs to pull Gabe down in a Sunset flip!


“Jack Briscoe roll-up! He could have him!” Francis adds, as Soapdish hits the mat…
















…No! Gabriel Drake kicks his heels together as he pushes his shoulders free! “He could have him…” King repeats mockingly. “Please, all the flashy cruiser roll-ups in the world won’t beat Gabe Drake!” Both men get to their feet, but Drake somewhat embarrassed by Cross’s flashy roll-up charges blindly and gets his legs taken out by a low dropkick! Looking to follow-up, Cross rebounds off the ropes and then drives his knee into Gabe’s face!




Picking up the stunned ‘Beast’, Mike Cross fires off two European uppercuts backing Drake into the ropes for another whip. Drake returns, dodging a clothesline attempt and ending up behind him with a waistlock! Standing off to the side slightly, Drake tries to lift Cross for a belly-to-back suplex, but while in the air Cross cracks Drake in the face with some back elbows! Back on the mat, Cross spins around behind his opponent in a rear waistlock of his own! Gabe feels the head drop coming and rushes towards the ropes linking his arms with the top cable. Trying to shake Cross off he recoils in the ropes, but ‘Iron’ Mike is too strong and holds on, dragging Drake into a reverse roll-up!!
















-Suddenly, with a yank of the shorts that goes unseen by Nick Soapdish, Cross goes from a winning roll-up into a Rear Naked Choke!!!


“Counter!” King screams. “What a reversal!”


“Reversal! He hooked his damn shorts, King!” Mak says, as with the hold locked in, Gabe, breathing a little shallowly himself, leans back and stretches Mike out trying to zap his energy. “What a cheap way to get a choke out!”


On the mat, Cross tries to move around to little avail. Pulling at Drake’s bicep, he attempts to get some space between his neck and his opponents forearm. The hooks in deep, Drake snitches in the hold tighter, trying to submit the man nicknamed ‘Iron’ Mike Cross.


“I think Drake’s looking a little blown up. They’ve been cutting a ridiculously fast pace and while Cross is used to these sprint matches, Drake debuted only a month and a half ago.” The Franchise states to King, as he watches Drake try to slow down his breathing. “This hold buys him some time to recover and cranks on the neck while stealing your opponent’s wind.” Mak analyses. “Drake’s got great instincts for a rookie. He’s not at the level of some of our more veteran guys, but for thinking on the fly this hold was the perfect maneuver for his current situation.”


“I agree with you, as shocking as that is to me personally.” King concurs snidely, as Gabe shouts for the referee to ‘Fuckin’ ask him!’ having gotten back his wind, so Soapdish moves in and checks on Cross’s arm, which is becoming limp… “But really, Gabe’s got good skills for anybody. Not just a rookie!”


Checking his hand, Soapdish raises it once… twice… and then on the third backs away as Mike directs the point of his elbow into the Drake’s leg. The crowd continues to show indifference as he raises it once more and then drives down, again and again… and again… breaking the body-scissors! Now able to move, Cross forces them both’ to their feet and lands a few more elbows to sever it completely. Rushing to the far ropes as fast as he can at the moment, Mike runs back and gets snapped over and back down to the canvas with a full rotation powerslam!!






















…NO! Cross pushes his shoulder up off the mat! Gabe claps his hands to signify a quicker count, stands and brings Cross along with him by his semi-Mohawk, before grabbing him about the waist and depositing Mike across his own knee, in a pendulum backbreaker!!


“A wicked snap powerslam from Drake only gets two!” Francis says, as Gabe drops Cross to the mat in a heap. “But the continued assault to the mid-section and back is just now starting to slow Michael Cross down.”


“Cross is a sprinter, Mak.” King mentions. “You even said it earlier and all the accumulated damage including two weeks worth of Hardcore matches against Jimmy the Doom and even his new partner in crime, Nemesis, has made it difficult to stay the course. When Gabe hit that power move, it was because he had a few more seconds to set-up than earlier in the match when he hit the Devil’s Reject.”


Drake stalks his prey, sizing Cross up as he tries to get to his hands and knees. Spotting the dark red X on his taped fist, Gabe scowls and stomps down on the appendages repeatedly.













“Think that’s a message to Toxxic?”







‘Fuck that Straight-edge bullshit!’


“It doesn’t get more obvious than that, King.”


Bending over, Gabe pulls at the tape revealing the D-R-U-G tattoos in between each knuckle and steps on it with the heel of his boot! Pinning the hand with his left foot, Drake turns on his heel scraping the knuckle while he rears back-




-and punts Cross directly in the face with his right!! “Damn… I stand corrected.” Mak mutters. Grabbing Cross by the hair again, Drake lifts him and locks him in a double underhook, arching backwards and flinging him to the canvas!!


“Beautiful Butterfly suplex!” King crows, while Soapdish falls into position for the count…
















…NO!! “But only another long two count, King!” Mak adds, as Cross raises a shoulder, the crowd beginning to murmur with some slight respect for the heart ‘Iron’ Mike is showing! “This has to be frustrating the rookie as he can’t seem to make any headway.”


The Franchise’s statement is on the money, as Gabe stares a hole into the ref and his two fingers. Drake gets up off the canvas and insists that Soapdish start counting at a faster pace. “While Cross may have struggled to keep the quick pace with his injuries, he’s also one of the most resilient wrestlers in our fed.” Francis continues. “He takes punishment that a normal man couldn’t and with his high vitality can move back onto the offensive in the blink of an eye.”


No sooner than Francis says this, Gabe Drake gives up on his intimidation of the ref and walks into a surprise drop toe hold!! “STS! Cross looking for that Step-over toehold variant with his patented side headlock!”


Drake spots the ropes and realizing he can drag the lighter Cross, starts to move. ‘Iron’ Mike grinds in the headlock, trying to keep Gabe center ring, but it’s just not working! Drake gets closer and closer to the ropes, his left hand reaching when Cross uses his headlock to his advantage pinning ‘the Beast’s’ left hand to the canvas with his right!!


“What a smart move by the rookie!”


Shocked by this move, those who notice the troubled position Gabe’s in start up a chant…




But Drake will not tap, instead moving his body closer to the ropes so that his right hand is within distance. Cross realizing he’ll have to break the hold soon, release Gabe, but quickly stands and jumps into the air, tucking his legs until he drives the sole of both boots in between Drake’s upper shoulder blades!!!


Grabbing the Beast by the leg, Cross drags him away from the ropes and then gets a back mount, lifting him up by his chin before-




-banging his face in with a sickening cross-face!! Pulling his head up with the other hand, Cross measures his opponent and-




-blasts Gabe with a second wicked fierce strike!! Elevating his head one last time by grabbing a handful of hair to Soapdish’s consternation, Cross swings-




-and crushes his forearm into Drake’s jaw!!! Noticing Gabe’s stunned expression, Mike transitions around in front, grabbing a standing head-scissors and lifts, depositing Drake onto his right knee!!


“Powerbomb onto the knee!” Mak calls, while Cross picks Drake back up and pull him up again, driving him back down across the other knee!! Dropping Drake to the canvas like a bad habit, ‘Iron’ Mike grabs both of his opponents legs and tucks forward landing in a jack-knife pin!! Soapdish is already into position a little more spring in his step than when he was counting for Drake…


“That’s the Iron bomb! He got it all, King!”























…NO!! “So close!” Mak shouts, as Drake shoves a shoulder from underneath popping Cross in the face. “I thought he had him!”


Cross gets to a knee and glares at the referee showing his own rookie-ness as he questions the call. Only getting two fingers in response, Cross just shakes his head in disgust. Lifting Gabe to his feet, Cross places him in an inverted headlock and after a yell, twists and pulls Drake into the… “Silent Rage Syndrome!” King says. “If he hits this it really is over!”




…Shame then that he didn’t hit it as Drake leaps with the lift, floating over top and landing behind ‘Iron’ Mike!!! Cross turns around, bewildered by the escape but Drake wastes little time-






-knocking some sense back into him with two open hand strikes!! Spinning around Drake swings out his right hand and-




-peppers the hell out of Cross with a backhand, getting the rest of the crowd to cringe!! Now with his opponent on wobbly knees, Gabe slides his right arm into the crook of his neck and flings him backwards in a swinging Flatliner!!!

“Brute-force trauma! That was one hell of a sequence of strikes ending with that STO into a swinging Flatliner!”


Gabe gets to a knee and then forgoing a cover, grabs Cross by the Mohawk and shoves him into a standing head-scissors!! Drake goes to pick Cross up and ‘Iron’ Mike feels it sandbagging for all he’s worth! To counter that Gabe steps off to the side and drives his knee repeatedly into the temple of his opponent! Now sure that Cross won’t be putting up a fight, Drake bends at the knees, before hefting him up onto his shoulders… walking in a slow circle center ring… and sending him spiraling down to the mat in a tornado-like fashion!!!


“Spiral Powerbomb!” King notes, as members of the audience let out an astonished gasp. “Even the crowd can’t deny that’s one hell of a move!”


Soapdish moves into position, checking the shoulders as he counts, the crowd counting along…



































“He is one of the toughest guys in the fed, but still I didn’t expect all this.” King comments. “Especially after all he’s been through in the past few weeks.”


“Michael Cross won’t lay down and even though this crowd doesn’t like him—I think they’re beginning to respect his tenacity!”


Gabe gets up, arguing with the ref this time positive he should’ve had the win. As this occurs, it gives precious time to Michael Cross who sits on the canvas holding his neck. Still arguing with the ref he allows Cross to get up to a knee. Finally giving up on Soapdish, Drake walks over to Cross and hoists him into a fireman’s carry, but all that extra time has allowed Mike to recover some and kicking and screaming he wiggles down Drake’s back!! Turning around, ‘the Beast’ goes for a crushing Lariat, but Cross uses this to his advantage however as he lifts Drake up and back, executing a Northern Lights Suplex…










…nope! Cross is far from finished! Floating over from the bridge, Cross drags Drake off the mat again and keeps him in the same position as before. Gabe attacks Cross with forearms to the back, but a quick turn away from the ropes gives Cross the room he requires and he arches back for a second time, executing a second successive Northern Lights...









…but Cross isn't done just yet! Mike rolls back through once more and lifts Drake, who by this time has been suplexed on his neck multiple times, off the canvas once again putting everything he has into it…


"Cross, looking for the trifecta." Mak calls. “And he gets it!”

































“Kick-out!” Both Mak and King shout, as Drake squirms his way free with a punch to the ribs. Cross runs his hands through his hair, but knowing he can’t make any more rookie mistakes gets right back on Gabe. Picking him up, Mike uses a Muy Thai clinch to soften Drake up with a few knees to the stomach and face then places him in a front headlock… and snaps him down with a suplex! Cross pops his hips and rolls to his feet once more, lifting Drake overhead for a second snap suplex!!


“Another trifecta?” Mak asks. “Cross maybe looking for a brainbuster?”


Michael pauses for a second and the arches, but Drake doesn’t move locking his leg around Cross’s. Mike tries again, this time getting him in the air, but Gabe comes back down to the canvas and heaving hard, pulls Cross into the air and places him on the top turnbuckle!! Climbing up to the top, Drake tries to superplex Cross, but Mike fights back with punches knocking Gabe off the ropes! Stepping his legs over the ropes, Cross preps to balance himself on the top rope, but Drake shoots back into the picture-




-nailing Mike Cross with a sickening leaping palm strike!! “The right hand of Gabe! That normally leads to a TOP ROPE superplex-”


“-But we’re about to see something different tonight!” King roars, as Gabe, stacking Cross on his shoulders steps away from the corner and walk/runs towards center ring, pausing for a second before falling back in a devastating DEMORALIZING Musclebuster!!!!




“MUSCLEBUSTER!” King screams. “He calls that manslaughter-”


“-and for good reason…”


Mak adds, while the crowd cringes badly, as Cross lays after landing on his neck. Drake for his part doesn’t hesitate and lifts Mike’s left leg over his own neck and then turns slightly sitting down on the six foot two inch Cross’s upper back!!! Mike Cross hasn’t really moved since the Musclebuster and King notes this…



“Cross is OUT, Francis!”





King’s statement is true and the ref has made the call. Funyon gets the word and announces the end of the match, as Drake drops Cross unceremoniously.


“The winner of this match, by submission… ‘THE BEAST’… GABRIEL DRRRRRRRRAAAAAKKKKKKEEEE!”


“That was a hell of a contest.” Mak says, as the Beast lowers his hand and exits the ring. “Michael Cross gave it his all.”


“‘Iron’ Mike Cross has proven his metal here tonight,” King adds. “But tonight the Beast still reigns supreme.”


And with that we…



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The SWF returns to the vivid Ivor Wynne Stadium that is currently illuminated by the costly lights that tower over the field. The tailgating has ended and inside the spacious arena would be a swarm of mad fans pumped for more SWF action. They have been teased by the taste of the SWF’s grand product, but they have yet to experience the breathtaking action that occurs between a Birdman and a former two time SWF Cruiserweight champion. However, that feeling of emptiness ends now…




“Let’s Get Retarded” by the Black Eyed Peas sends the audience in a frenzy as the Suicide King and the Franchise Mak Francis welcomes the home viewers back from an eternity of commercials.


“Next up, as you can tell from the pumping beats in the background, the Birdman is set to face off against Zyon in a rematch of the August 28th version of Smarkdown. In that match, Birdy bested the former Cruiserweight champion with a mirage of high risk maneuvers that weren’t really that high risk at all…” The Franchise finishes…or is forced to finish due to his partners impatience.


“That’s all nice and good Mak, but really, why do I have to watch this match again. Yes the Birdman is a deranged individual who is capable of putting his body on the line, but chooses to go old school with axe hammer smashes and cross bodies. Zyon on the other hand, is a complete tool who has yet to pull anything together since getting schooled by Michael Stephens in a World Title match a few months back. And I’m sorry, but if you get schooled by Toxxic then there is certainly no hope for you.” The King of Hearts sounds off on the combatants.


Dancing through the curtain receiving the same round of cheers he always gets, Birdman analyzes the stadium that enjoys his wacky antics and athletic approach to wrasslin’, and only has one thing to say to that…


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


“The following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon bellows out from the echo of birds that seemingly have flocked the stadium, “This match will be held under Cruiserweight Rules AND the winner is guaranteed a Cruiserweight title match after Genesis!!!” Funyon emphasizes the last part of his standard announcement before continuing his introduction of the bizarre guy in a costume, “Coming to the ring, hailing from parts unknown, and weighing in tonight at two hundred nineteen pounds. He is the BiiiiiiiirrrrrrddddddMAN!!!!”


Funyon shrieks as everyone’s favorite bird dances his way into the ring, ascending the middle turnbuckle immediately, and we know what comes next.


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


“Tell me again why these people like him,” King whines, “I mean he’s just some dolt in a bird costume. Better yet he could be Wildchild or Johnny Dangerous in a bird costume, which proves my point even more, which…”


“Or it could be Jay Hawke, Akira Kaibatsu, Matt Myers, Chuck Norris, Vin Diesel, or some unknown kid looking to hit the big time. The possibilities are endless.” Mak cuts in on the King of Heart’s monologue.


“Did you just interrupt me? I’ll pretend that you didn’t. And you wonder why you ended up in that chair.”


Removing his cloth wings and handing them to the ring attendant, Birdy prances around the ring until his music fades into the darkness that elucidates once the Smarktron lights up…








The sudden tone of “Vitamin” by Incubus busts through the unfathomable cheering that accompanies such a tune. And the cheering only gets stronger when the young man himself dashes out into the limelight!




The crowd explodes as the Unique Youth salutes the Canadian province of Ontario as Funyon prepares another tremendous introduction for this particularly exciting athlete.


“And his opponent, hailing from Elkhart, Indiana. Weighing in tonight at an even two hundred pounds. He is the Unique Youth, ZYYYYYYYON!!!”


Funyon exits the ring as the youth sprints down the ramp way, energetically sliding into the ring where his opponent watches on. Leaping to the second turnbuckle, Zyon looks back at the man that defeated him less that two weeks ago, and tosses his arms up in an arrogant taunt that establishes that he still believes he is a key player in the Cruiserweight division.


Of course, King would think differently, “Ok, this guy just sucks. When was the last time he won a match? Hell, when was the last time he was booked this frequently? Even Joseph Peters has lost faith in this no talent wannabe.”


“Actually King, Zyon still maintains a decent win/loss record. His most recent losses would include our current International Champion, Bruce Blank and the always intense Michael Cross. That’s not exactly career killing losses, and the Birdman is no joke either.


“Are you serious? He dresses up as a bird. A BIRD!”


Both men…erm, man and bird consume the energy manifesting throughout the stadium as the anticipation for the lower card match reaches a devastating pitch. A piece of gold may not be on the line for this match up, but the spectacle behind a bird and a former champion is beyond reason.


And let’s be honest, do we need a reason to enjoy the show…oh yeah it’s showtime.




Circling the ring, weaving in and out of the center, the Birdman teases the Unique Youth who looks overly anxious to start the match out in the defensive position. Disregarding each chance the Birdman gives the youth to auction off a punch, kick, or collar-and-elbow tie up; Zyon takes a few steps back away from his unorthodox opponent.


“It seems Zyon is a bit hesitant to take the Birdman on. In their previous encounter, Zyon didn’t exactly school Birdy as you would put it King.”


“Fuck no he didn’t. He got stomped by a person that dresses up as a bird. He had no idea how to go at the mother clucker, and he still has no idea what to do.” The Suicide King reacts to Mak’s polite way of critizing the Unique Youth.


However, nobody in the stadium including the Birdman himself was ready for the former Cruiserweight Champion to charge forward in a mad bull rush for the evasive athlete. Easily leaping over the youth with a leap frog, Birdy rotates around so that he is facing the Unique Youth, who comes charging back off of the opposite ropes. Lowering himself for a back body drop attempt, Birdy is unable to complete this opening spotty exchange as Zyon leaps over the five foot eleven prankster with a monkey roll. Quickly, rising back to his feet, Zyon shoots for the back of the Birdman’s head with a wild swing of his right arm as the conscious Birdman nimbly dives forward away from the youth with a monkey roll of his own! Only, the Birdman extends his legs, which puncture the youth’s unprotected sternum, left open by Zyon’s wild lariat attempt.




“Brilliant donkey kick by the Birdman that has dropped Zyon to one knee. He sure wasn’t expecting that one!” Mak compliments the Birdman on his athleticism.


Hugging at his sternum, Zyon’s mystical green eyes grow as a feathery foot is initiated in his direction. Tossing both hands into the air to soften the blow, Zyon is forced back on to his ass by the impact of the strike, which sets him up perfectly for a speedy basement dropkick by the Birdman…




…However, Zyon is able to squander out of the way as Birdy is able to get a hand down to soften his collision with the canvas. Both men pop back to their feet, neither willing to escape the ring for a moment’s rest, as it is the Birdman this time playing the part of the aggressor as he shoots himself toward the youth’s chin with a European Uppercut! Tossing his head backward in a retreat away from the jaw jarring strike, Zyon latches on to Birdy’s exposed back with a reverse waist lock. Unable to proceed forward with whatever tactic he desires, Zyon struggles to maintain his grip as the slick Birdman looks to wobble his way out! Irritated by his enemy’s resilience, Zyon plants his feet deep into the canvas, and violently tosses the lightning fast Birdman through the air with a release German suplex! Listening for a BANG, BOOM, or an “OH MY GOD MY NECK,” Zyon turns his head nervously as he realizes that all he can hear is this…


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


Dashing forward at the dancing Bird, Zyon catches a wicked kick to the ribs that stops any momentum he could have tried to garner from the anger that dwells deep inside of him. Instead, he finds himself at the mercy of some loser who dresses up as a bird…


…The same loser that beat him two weeks ago.


Diving down at the doubled over Cruiserweight, Birdy fires off a jaw wrecking European uppercut that sends the youth sprawling to the canvas. Pushing himself off the canvas with his jaw trembling from the powerful strike, Zyon finds himself on the defense, a desperate defense at that. Firing off lefts and rights at a speed that not even the Unique Youth can comprehend, Birdy lights the former Cruiserweight Champion up…









…And back into the near turnbuckle.


“The Birdman continuing exactly where he left off with the youth,” Mak continues to sing the Birdman’s praises, “If this keeps up, Zyon might suffer another crushing defeat at the hands of the athletic Birdman.”


Referee Ken Masters warns the bizarre bird about his closed fists, which the Birdman responds in kind…with another closed first! Latching on to the youth’s wrist, Birdy forces the youth across the ring with an Irish whip, watching with emotionless pleasure as Zyon collides back first into the turnbuckle. Staggering out from the turnbuckle, Zyon is helpless to stop Birdy from locking his hands around his head and driving both knees into his chin with the sensationally painful Bird-Breaker!!!




The crowd echoes as Zyon rolls around on the canvas clutching his jaw as the Birdman plops on the Unique Youth with a lateral press.














“Early near fall for the Birdman who has taken the Unique Youth for a ride that I’m sure Zyon wishes he could get off of.” Mak, just like the rest of the world is a bit dumbfounded by Birdy’s destruction of Zyon…again.


Picking the youth off the canvas, the Birdman hooks the youth in a front face lock, and attempts a snap suplex, which Zyon blocks with his foot. Shocking the individual behind the secret that is the Birdman, Zyon explodes with a snap suplex of his own, driving the Birdman into the canvas!!!




The crowd erupts as the other fan favorite shows signs of life. Rising back to a vertical base, Zyon takes off for the near ropes as Birdy also gathers back to his feet. Clutching his back from the stinging sensation that usually follows a back collision of some sort, Birdman is incapable of halting the youth, who springs off the second rope with a dazzling moonsault body press that ensnares Birdy’s shoulders between the canvas and his body weight.


“Excellent maneuver by the crafty youth who could have the Birdman!!!” Mak shouts as referee Ken Masters makes the count.














Pushing the youth off, Birdy looks up into the bright lights that power the stadium in the darkness. Shadowing the lights would be the young Zyon who forces the Birdman back to his chicken feet. Driving his knee into the sternum of the tenacious Birdman, Zyon forms Birdy into a front face lock as he swings his hips for the always damaging swinging neck breaker…


…BUT! But the Birdman swings his hips as well as he goes back to back with his challenger, locking him down for a backslide struggle!!!


“Look at that King! These two are so into the combat that they are even reluctant to give way to a simple backslide. Competition at its finest folks!” The Franchise might be a little bit overenthusiastic for this Cruiserweight contest.


Each man…ugh, man and bird grunt and grind their way to eternity, but neither man decides to break under the pressure. Jockeying for position, Zyon consciously decides to retreat from this seemingly meaningless struggle, unlocking one arm from the Birdman’s grip…


…And placing it around the Cruiserweight’s neck! Diving to the canvas bottom first before the courageous Birdman can figure out a counter to his unfortunate situation, Zyon stuns the mysterious wrestler with a Reverse Single Chickenwing NeckBREAKAAAA!! With feathers floating across the ring in random directions, Zyon rises back to his feet with the Birdman in hand. Struggling to fly away from the youth, Birdy stabs Zyon with a couple quick elbows before transferring the momentum his way with a surprising Irish whip!! Clutching the Birdman’s wrist, Zyon shuffles around, countering his opponent’s Irish whip with one of his own!! Just as the youth begins to feel safe within his confidence against an opponent that has bested him before, the Unique Youth finds his arrogance once again raped by an outside force that blasts him in the face with an AMAZING springboard corkscrew axe hammer smash!!!!


“Now that Mak was GOLD! Don’t worry I still find the whole idea behind that dodo brain to be foolish, but that will win you a battle every time. Like a common Cruiserweight, the Birdman was able to counter the Irish whip by springing off the middle rope. But then he shocked that foolish youngster with an old school axe hammer smash with a twist!” King compliments the Bird…he must be a secret PETA member.


Taking a moment to rub the feathers surrounding his neck, the Birdman scoops the youth off the canvas and into the air in one flawless flow. Looking to drive the youngster back first into the canvas with a basic scoop slam, the Birdman feels the weight of his opponent depart from his claws. Landing behind the Birdman like his shadow, Zyon traps the Birdman in a cage known as an upside down reverse face lock! Once again, the youth drops to the canvas leaving the Birdman no time to counter a bending 3.0 back breaker!!!




The crowd responds to Birdy’s awkward positioning across the youth’s back as the mysterious man in a suit descends to the canvas. Hooking the leg, Zyon covers his opponent for the victory!














But even a Bird who makes his living in the air can fight his way off the ground. Forcing himself and his enemy back to their respective feet, Zyon drives the point of his sharp elbow into the soft dermis of his opponent, located in the neck region as a method of softening his opponent up for something bigger no doubt. Whipping the Birdman across the ring with little struggle, Zyon steps up at the ferocious Birdy…




However, just like their last encounter, Zyon uses his freshly developed muscle mass to not only catch, but also arrange the Birdman for the Aero Driver!!! Thrusting the mysterious individual head first toward the unforgiving mat, Zyon’s leg is suddenly bolted down by the marginal weight of his opponent’s hands before being sent forward into a shocking cradle!!!

















“HE GOT HIM!!!” Mak shouts before looking at the referee and then at his broadcast partner.


“Well that was certainly close. Hey hot wheels, how about if we settle down over there.”


Staring at the ref with his same blank mascot expression, the Birdman can just shake his head as referee Ken Masters tosses two fingers into the air! Due to having all of his attention deviated at the referee, Birdy is blind to Zyon’s actions as the youth exits out to the ring apron and grabs his opponent’s undivided attention the only way he knows how…


Zyon: CAW-CAW!!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!!

Birdman: ?????


…Before springing off the top rope with his right arm towed backward. As he inches his way toward the individual he sees as a villain, imitating Superman, Zyon unleashes the trigger on his right forearm just as THE BIRDMAN SHOOTS ZYON OUT OF THE SKY WITH A LEAPING GAMENGIRI TO THE FACE!!!




“Holy Shit!”


Rolling around on the canvas, clutching his face with the type of unceremonious shock that comes from having a foot driven into your unprotected face, Zyon can barely hear the audible “holy shit” chant as he tries to pull himself back to his feet!!


“This match has been fantastic. Definitely on par with their first encounter. Zyon has come to play tonight and the Birdman has been in top form ever since his re-emergence from a nest somewhere in Idaho!”


“Idaho? Why Idaho?”


“Cause you sleep for money! Hahahahahaha!” Mak bursts into tears over his own joke.


“I didn’t know you were such a comedian Mak. I mean I must admit, I’m not half as funny as you, but unlike you I can do this…” King finishes as he effortlessly crosses his legs. “HA!”


Staggering around the ring as his eyes begin to refocus on the action at hand, Zyon is unable to prevent the Birdman from grabbing his head and sending him face first into the nearest top turnbuckle! Blood trickling from the very nose that was crushed by the earlier gamengiri, Zyon’s face continues to ache as Birdy forces the youth face first into the turnbuckle pad once more…




…Or not. Startling the uber talented mascot with a stinging elbow to the sternum, Zyon uses the little space, the minor opportunity he has to begin ascending the top rope! Recovering much quicker than the Unique Youth expected, the Birdman climbs on to the ropes with his frantic opponent, locking a leg behind his enemy’s. Gripping the ropes with his hands, Zyon refuses to be killed by a common predator’s prey! Yet, the Birdman is quite consistent with his pessimistic approach to defeating the youth once again. Using his near arm to force the youth face first into the top turnbuckle, Birdy has brought upon the opening he needs as he lunges backward…








The chanting is much louder this time as a barely conscious Zyon can hear them as clear as day.


“So much for him being an old school type high flyer. Oh well, I’ve always been entertained by train wrecks.” The King of Hearts shrugs.




Referee Ken Masters begins his mandatory ten count as the awestruck audience counts along.













“The Birdman looks to be coming to…” Mak trails off just as interested in the proceedings as the common fan.


Crawlingly across the canvas toward his fallen Cruiserweight alumni, Birdy drapes his feathered arm across the youth’s chest, using it to tug the rest of his body on to the Unique Youth for the lateral press.

















The crowd responds in kind to the heart shown by both men as the Birdman forces the youth up to his feet by his perspirated soaked hair, locking his foot behind Zyon’s! Arranging the youth for a conventional Russian leg sweep, Birdy in unable to establish complete dominance once he feels the smolder of pain sting his sternum…







…Due to a secession of left jabs by the youth. Slinging his leg over the doubled over mascot, Zyon restrains Birdy’s near arm, forcing it to extend straight out for leverage. Driving the confused Birdman’s arm forward, Zyon pushes his leg in the same direction forcing his opposition to the canvas with a rolling neckbreaker!!! Now it’s Zyon that falls on to the Birdman, praying for the best…praying for the three.

















Thrusting his shoulder off the canvas, Birdy brings his fans back into this competitive war between high flying warriors looking for the humongous victory. Snatching the aerial creature from the canvas by his beak, Zyon takes a moment to look out into the rabid audience.


“Zyon who has shown signs of arrogance in the past seems to be proving to everyone that he has everything under control.” Mak explains why Zyon is grabbing at his opponent’s beak.


“Then tell me Mak, how come I don’t buy the kid’s new found confidence. We both know he’s going to blow it.” King reassures Mak that Zyon is screwed.


Aggressively snaring the mysterious individual in a bird costume in a tight front face lock, Zyon pops his hips, crushing the Birdman with a swinging neckbreaker! Realizing his opponent’s neck could be in shambles; the youth disregards the pin attempt, and opts to force the feathery fighter back to his feet. Bouncing off the near ropes, Zyon steps off of his opponent’s knee, sending his knee upward toward the Birdman’s face with a Shining Wizard…


…That doesn’t get the chance to work its magic as the Birdman topples the youth to the canvas with a vicious spinebuster!!! Huffing and wheezing on the canvas, Zyon wishes he could have the oxygen he just lost back as the Birdman takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Twisting his body away from the youth, Birdy unravels on top of the youth with a whirl of amazing athleticism in the shape of a standing shooting star press!! However, the Unique Youth uses what is left of his vitality to roll out of the way…


…But the Birdman is much quicker, smashing the youth’s back with the attack! Rubbing his wounded neck with one hand while lifting the youth with the other, Birdy Irish whips the youngster across the ring and into the turnbuckle…OR SO HE THOUGHT! Dynamic like C4 explosives, Zyon leaps to the top rope, soaring backward with his signature No Regard corkscrew body attack THAT LANDS FLUSH ON THE EMOTIONLESS BIRDMAN!!!!




The crowd erupts as the youth rolls off of his opponent, pushing himself back to his feet. Gazing down on the mascot, Zyon complete with fatigue and rapidly blinking eyes, curses his “joke” of an opponent. Foolishly, the youth waits for the Birdman to ascend back to his feet, leaving everyone to question his motives. Visibly tired, Birdy gets back to his feet, and advances on to his opponent…




…JUST TO BE DISRESPECTFULLY SMACKED IN THE FACE!! One would think that beneath the mirage of a silly bird costume, a man would be fuming from such arrogance. And you would be right. Just like in their last match, the Birdman comes rocketing back with a smack of his own…




…Just to almost get taken down with a fujiwara armbar!!!




“GENIUS! Zyon provoked the Birdman in a way that would set him up perfectly for the Gouki Crossface!!!” Mak sees through Zyon’s arrogant show for what it really is.


Everyone in the stadium panics for the Birdman, afraid to see their favorite mascot in the painful submission hold. Of course, Zyon should be the one panicking since he only ALMOST got the Birdman down with the fujiwara arm bar. Pivoting on his feet, the Birdman creates a whirlwind that compels the youth to release his grip on the amazing Birdman who shoots into the youth with a knee to the sternum. Pulling the youth into a standing headscissor, the Birdman lifts the youngster from his waist to where he is perched on his shoulders…





…But the youth fires back with fiery rights that weaken the athletic Birdman just enough to drop Zyon…




…Right on the spine of his back with the rare snap powerbomb that lead to the youth’s doom in their previous encounter!!!! The audience battles each other as the Birdman is having a difficult time rising back to his feet. Yet his opponent is having an even more difficult time remaining conscious. Lumbering over toward the turnbuckle, the Birdman calls out to his faithful…


Birdman: CAW-CAW!!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!!


Leaping on to the top rope, the wary Birdman salutes the crowd as he dives into the sky for an immense amount of hang time.


“He’s going for the BIRD DROPPING!!!” Mak puts emphasis on moves named after a bird’s feces…bizarre.


Watching one of their favorites soar through the sky, the crowd watches as the Birdman crushes the youth with the Bird Dropping…




…That rockets down upon the youth’s knees!!!


“Zyon got the knees up!! He learned in their last match that the Bird Dropping is straight up fatal.” Mak shouts, “And he realized earlier from the standing shooting star press that avoiding a maneuver like that entirely would not work. Now can he capitalize???”


Rolling around on the canvas, shockingly depressed that the Unique Youth didn’t just lie down and die like last time, the Birdman clutches his sternum, wishing the youngster would just fall into a slumber one last time!


Inching his way closer to the kneeling youth, the Birdman prepares to continue his assault on the young man with the attention…the wish…that he would just die…


…Just like last time. Sadly for Birdy, the Unique Youth has picked up a thing or two since last time. Leaping into the air from a kneeling position, Zyon wraps both hands around the Birdman’s head forming a ¾ headlock before rushing his physically and mentally fatigued opponent into the canvas with a Perfect Bo mimicked Ace Cutter!!!


“Hey damnit that’s the Perfect Pain!!!” The Suicide King calls out immediately.


“Actually King, Zyon calls that the Big Shot!”


Rolling on to his fallen adversary, Zyon hooks his opponent’s leg, hoping for a better outcome than “Just like last time.”























“Your winner, earning a shot for the Cruiserweight Title sometime after Genesis, the Unique Youth ZYYYYON!!!”


“What a match! Both men came out and put on a show for the fans. Each man worked hard for the victory, but Zyon’s attack was a bit more focused than the Birdman’s, which is quite a surprise. While Birdy did stick to his low risk aerial strategy, Zyon was able to mix it up with his suicidal approach along with focusing on the neck. Also…”


“MAK! The kid hit the Birdman with his version of the Perfect Pain…end of story. It’s a fantastic maneuver, especially when the user is quick on their feet. That mascot never saw it coming.” The Suicide King actually gives a non biased report on the match.


“And up next Johnny Dangerous returns to action facing off against the man that was born to main event Genesis, Tom Flesher…stay tuned!”



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... OR NOT.


The Unique Youth has just begun to leave the ring, leaving a wounded Birdman behind, when-





Mike Van Siclen suddenly runs down in from the crowd and into the ring, tackling Birdman to the canvas!


“It’s Mike Van Siclen!” shouts Mak. "Now that Birdman's down, he's coming to finish him off!" Van Siclen continues to take advantage of Birdman’s condition, as he stomps heavily and repeatedly onto Birdman’s back! He then bends down to grab the back of Birdman’s mask, and begins to untie it!


“Here we go!” shouts King. “Van Siclen’s had enough of the Birdman, and he’s going to find out who he is, once and for all!”


MVS gets the mask nearly halfway untied, before Zyon heads over to come to the Birdman’s aid, pulling the Spectacle off of him, and standing between the two of them.


“Thank you, Zyon,” says Mak, as Birdman rolls towards the apron. “Even if you think that Birdman ought to reveal himself, it shouldn’t happen like this!” Van Siclen glares disdainfully at Zyon and then turns to depart the ring…






… Only to suddenly spin back around and knock Zyon to the canvas with a ferocious sucker punch!


“Wow, what a hit!” says King, as MVS pulls Zyon to his feet and leads him across the ring, before heaving him over the top rope. “I guess that Van Siclen’s not going to let anything come between him getting even with the Birdman!” Van Siclen turns his attention back to the Birdman, who has gotten back to his feet on the apron. He charges towards his would-be nemesis, but the Bird lunges between the ropes and drives a shoulder into this midsection, doubling him over, eye-level with the middle rope!


“That’ll take the wind out of Van Siclen for a minute!” shouts Mak. “And let’s not forget, he just had a match, so he’s already worn out!” Birdman grabs onto the middle rope with both hands and braces his feet against the edge of the apron as he pulls back hard on the rope. Once he has it as far back as it will go, he releases it, falling down to the arena floor…






… As the vinyl-covered steel cable snaps back towards the ring, cracking Van Siclen in the forehead and sending him flying backwards onto the canvas!



“Holy cow!” shrieks Mak. “What a shot! I think he knocked Van Siclen clean out!”


“After the match he just had, it probably wouldn’t have taken much, anyway, but as you well know, those cables hurt more than a little bit!” Birdman climbs back onto the apron and quickly heads over towards the corner, leaping gracefully onto the top rope. He looks out into the crowd and gives them his signature cry:


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!



The fans cheer as Birdman leaps from the top rope and caves Van Siclen’s chest in with the Bird Dropping! Birdy then pops to his feet and then looks out into the crowd for a few moments, before reaching behind his head for the ties to his mask.


“Aw, isn’t that nice,” says King sarcastically, as Birdy bends over at the waist. “He gets ambushed in the ring, and he still makes the time to keep his mask on straight!”


“Wait a minute, King,” replies Mak, as Birdman appears to be pulling at the mask, “I’m not so sure that he’s straightening that mask… No… he’s taking it off!” Birdman keeps his head low as he pulls the mask completely off of his head, and then stands straight up…










… Earning a MASSIVE pop from the crowd as the face of Dominic LeCroix is revealed!





“IIIII KNEW IT!” cries King, rising out of his seat aghast. The fans begin loudly for the Bahama Bomber:









The speakers in the arena suddenly come alive as, for the first time in a year, the chorus of Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” starts playing.


“And there you have it,” shouts Mak, as WC throws his mask down onto Van Siclen’s head. “Weeks of speculation are over, as Wildchild has officially revealed himself to be the Birdman! And King, he had Mike Van Siclen sign a document last week that said he’d be out of his life for good; was this his parting shot? Have we seen the last of Wildchild in the SWF?”


“Well, if not, he’s going to have to get a new disguise,” laments King. WC grabs onto the top rope and heaves himself out to the arena floor; he begins slapping hands with the fans at ringside as he makes his way back up the ramp…



As we:


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Jimmy the Doom wends his way through the general mayhem that is the backstage area of a SWF show to the office of Joseph Peters. The Straight-Bread Sensation opens the door and walks through. Joe's secretary is about to stop him, but then realizes who it is.


"Oh, right, Mister Peters scheduled you for an appointment. Go on through."


Doom nods and enters to find The Crimson Skull sitting across from the SWF commissioner! Jimmy tenses up, but Peters, sensing the chance of fisticuffs occurring, acts fast and throws a small plastic rectangle, commonly used in grocery stores to seperate one person's items from another, between Jimmy and Skull. Doom glances at the uncrossable boundary, then to Peters, before finally fixing an icy glare on the beefy supervillain.


"Okay, that should keep the physical expressions of hostility to a minimum," Joe says. "Well, gentlemen, you must have some idea as to why I called the both of you together."


However, neither man is really paying any attention to Peters, instead opting to scowl at one another.


"Lois the Unethical," Peters says, causing Doom's head to snap around on Joseph. "Skull, I believe you said you'd return her to Jimmy once your demands were met. What are they?"


"Seeing as how this idiot was unsuccessful in winning the World title, I'm afraid I'll have to ask for the only thing he's got: the Hardcore belt," Skull says.


"Assing of pieced, shitted, to with of your having, being on taked," Doom growls.


"Whoa, whoa, whoa. That is not going to happen, Jimmy! I can't just have you giving the Hardcore title away to The Crimson Skull, regardless of the fact that he's got your wife held hostage. He hasn't even won a contendership match! Hell, the only title he's won has been as your tag team partner. No go on the straight swap. However, I suppose, with Genesis being right around the corner and all, that you two wouldn't object to a match for Lois and the belt. Besides, Jimmy, I did say I'd give you a shot at Skull at Genesis. Remember, when he first attacked you?"


"Manied with bastardings!" Jimmy roars. "Of fighted, with a wifes, having to been mine, on a getting in severals near, to backed Skull, being against?!"


"Hmm, I like how you think, Joseph. In fact, I might have the perfect idea for this match. That is if Jimmy is willing to accept the offer," Skull says.


"Look, Jim, I know it seems heartless to make you win Lois back, seeing as how you'd rather have her than the belt, but think about things from my perspective. The biggest show of the year is in a week, and if you just give the belt to Skull, I'd have to scramble to get a contender so he can defend it on Genesis. However, if you agree to this match, there's a chance you can walk out of Genesis with not only your wife, but the Hardcore belt, too," Joe says. "Of course, there's an equal chance you could leave with neither, but isn't that a chance you'd be willing to take?"


Morosely, Jimmy nods.


"Good! That's very good. Now, Skull, about this match," Peters says.


"Yes, well, I have to be honest, this isn't a spur of the moment idea. I'd originally thought this up to use against Cyclone Comet, once I found him, of course. By the way, you don't happen to know where he is, do you? It's just that, well, he's the only reason I came to the SWF, but, as you can tell, I've gotten a bit sidetracked. Anyway, I've got some sharks in a holding area that can be sent pretty much anywhere in the world in two day's time. I was going to just kill them, since they didn't take to the modifications that well, but Heff named them and everything, and Jesus, if I kill one of his companions, he sulks for about a month. So, we've got the sharks, and then, when it comes time for our match, Joe, you get your guys to take down the ring and put up a big water tank, and the sharks go in there. I'll put Lois in the rafters, about a hundred feet up, and when our match starts, she'll be lowered down to the tank. I figure Doom gets an hour to flip the switch that stops the motor, in which case, he retains the title and gets Lois. If he doesn't flip the switch in an hour, though, I get the belt, and Lois is in the tank, which, thankfully, will eliminate a problem I've had for the past few days. She just will not stop complaining. Of course, since there is no ring, the match can't start there, besides, that would make it a bit too easy for Jimmy. No, I'm thinking we start in a cellar, basement, boiler, or furnace room, whatever's available. Well, what do you guys think?" Skull asks.


"Wow. Uh, other than Lois possibly going in the shark tank, I don't really see anything potentially wrong there," Joe says. "Jimmy, your thoughts?"


"For if doned, to becoming Lois, with in for backs, mine having, it," Jimmy says and walks off.


"I would have liked to get a handshake, or maybe a contract signing, but I guess verbal is fine," Joe mutters.


And Smarkdown fades to plaid.

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The sounding of the timekeeper’s bell draws all eyes to the center of the squared circle, where Funyon patiently waits. It takes a second to settle the crowd after being riled up from the end of commercial break, and after they quiet down enough for the ring announcer to deliver his introductions, he does just that.


“Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellows. “The following match is the first of TWO main event matches and is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…” Funyon’s voice drifts off into the open air of the Invor Wynne Stadium. For a second, the only sound heard is the small cracks and buzzes of excitement from the fans, and it only grows when the house lights give way to light up the Smarktron. On the screen the opening ‘fuse lighting’ scene from the Mission Impossible television series is shown as the theme from the same show comes blaring over the speakers!




“Oh, they’re on their feet here! What an ovation for the return of Johnny Dangerous!” yells Mak. Johnny enters just as he did on Lockdown; rising through the stage on a platform. This time, however, smoke swirls all around the Barracuda while dozens of lights on each side of him strobe in time with the music.


“From Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at two hundred-twenty pounds,” the ring announcer bellows, trying his hardest to be heard over the ruckus from the music and fans. “He is…JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS!”


Johnny pumps his fist for the crowd with the announcement of his name and then does an about face and heads down the ramp, towards the ring he thought he’d never want to see again.


“Johnny Dangerous is coming off of a nine month absence from the SWF,” Francis reports like a true anchorman, “and after that lengthy of a hiatus the Barracuda will most likely have to shake off a little bit of rust tonight.”


“A little bit!?” The Suicide King says in disbelief. “Hell, Johnny Dangerous is going to be rustier than a bucket of old nails! He wasn’t anything to write home to mom about to begin with, so you can just imagine how bad he’s going to stink up the joint – we might have to start calling him Pepe Le Peu!”


“Oh, come on now, Brian.”


“Seriously!” exclaims King. “And you can’t come into a match like this and expect to win when you’re trying to work the kinks out! Tom Flesher is by far the most gifted athlete in the SWF and probably the toughest opponent Johnny Dangerous has ever had to face through out his career! When you’re facing the toughest opponent you’ve ever dealt with you have to be at your best, and Johnny Dangerous will have to do that right out of the gates – there’s no cupcake opponent for him to iron out the wrinkles first.”


“You might be right there,” agrees Francis, nodding his head. “However, as we saw earlier Tom Flesher has all his attention focused on beyond tonight, and I’m not to sure if he is in his finest form either. He’s certainly seen better days…especially around the waist line!”


“Which is all part of the intricate plan for his World Title victory at Genesis,” argues King. “Tom Flesher knows what he is doing and he certainly knows how to handle a simple match against this rust bucket.”


“We’ll see,” Mak says, shaking his head while the Barracuda enters the ring. He heads for a corner turnbuckle, climbs up, and pumps his fist as hundreds of flashbulbs pop from all sides of the stadium. With the way the fans have reacted to Johnny—welcoming him back into the fold with open arms--it’s hard for the Barracuda to not get caught up in the moment of his grand return from exile. However, his first challenge back is trying to beat a man he’s only beaten once, and that was when Flesher was the acting commissioner not an active member of the roster. If Johnny wants to win he knows that he’s going to have to focus on the task at hand, so when the Barracuda hops down from the turnbuckle his smile fades – it’s all about taking care of business now.


“Is he going to wear those sunglasses the whole time?” Suicide King whispers to Mak Francis, but before he can respond the scratchy, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice of James Matheson comes over the speakers.


“Tonight you're going to see the final tune-up match for the man who's adopted the Great White North as his home, and who you've so kindly adopted in return,” he bellows. “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, give it up for the current SWF Cruiserweight Champion, for what that's worth, and the NEXT SWF Heavyweight Champion of the WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD.... TOM FLESHER!”


And with that, a blue explosion lights up the Colisee Pepsi and “Kashmir” begins to rock out over the speakers. Tom Flesher steps through the curtain wearing his trademark warm-up suit (though it may be an extra large this time) and dragging the Cruiserweight Championship belt on the floor behind him.


“Man,” mutters Mak. “The way Flesher carries that Cruiserweight Championship around you’d almost think he was forced at gun point to bring it with him.”


“I wouldn’t put it past Peters in the slightest,” King adds.


Flesher stops at the foot of the ring to strip down to his ring attire. He glances up at Johnny while unzipping his jacket and then shakes his head in pity, “-and apparently I’m not the only one who thinks this is a waste of Tom Flesher’s time,” the Gambling Man says.


“Why is this match taking time away from the buffet table?” Francis asks. Flesher hands over his warm-up suit and Cruiserweight Championship, all wadded up in a ball, over to Matheson to store away then-






-gets drilled in the back with a baseball slide and the fans roar in delight at the sight of Flesher getting hit with a cheap shot before the bell!


“Whoa!” exclaims Mak as Flesher goes tumbling to the floor. “Evidently, the Barracuda has taken some exception to the way Tom Flesher just disrespected the Cruiserweight Championship, a belt that Johnny Dangerous once proudly held!”


“So a cheap-shot before the bell is how a so called ‘Protector of the American Way’ goes about his business?!”


Herrington admonishes Johnny for his actions but it goes in one ear and out the other as he quickly slides under the bottom rope and drops out of the ring, to the floor, hoping to get another drop on his opponent. Before he can get that next drop, though, Flesher is up on his knees and is able to sink a quick, stinging elbow into the Barracuda’s midsection, doubling the agent over on his way to his knees-




-and a final kick to the Barracuda’s forehead puts him on his back! Flesher, having already had enough of this crap and having more important things to save his strength for, motions for Matheson to leave. He waits for his manager to gather his belongings and then the two begin heading back up the ramp.


“Wait a second now!” shouts Francis. “There is supposed to be a match starting! Why is Tom Flesher leaving!?”


“Like he has time to waste on juvenile bullshit like this,” King replies. “If Johnny wants to jump someone he needs to go and join a street gang!”


With a hand to his head, Johnny looks up and sees Flesher heading up the ramp, trying to walk out on this match like it meant nothing to him! It might not matter to Flesher, but with the crowd cheering for Johnny Dangerous and starting up chants of his name it certainly matters to him! He quickly scrambles to his feet and heads after Flesher, starting with a hobble and then moving towards a painful jog after him!


“I don’t think Johnny’s going to let Flesher walk out on him like that,” the Franchise says as the Barracuda chases his man down. However, Johnny won’t get to Flesher today. As the Barracuda reaches the top of the stage he runs right into the chest of Charlie Matthews!


“And I don’t think the Barracuda can do anything to stop him,” King finishes as the crowd fires off some heavy boos at Matthews. Charlie, without uttering a word, grabs the Barracuda by the back of his thick, jet-black hair and head-butts him! The blow causes Johnny to stagger back rather dazedly and he’s unable to offer up any fight against the big man as Charlie grabs him and heaves him off the side of the stage!


“HOLY SHIT!” Mak exclaims, along with the crowd. Johnny goes tumbling end over end and lands on his back, on the concrete floor!


“This isn’t how you make a triumphant return,” snickers King. “Fortunately, the drop wasn’t that high but I bet you Johnny thinks twice before going after Tom Flesher again.”


Grappler makes a final bow before heading backstage, leaving the crowd to stare at their Secret Agent, face up on the floor…










As We:


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The door of the Commissioner's office opens, with a figure clad purely in white backing out.


"Arigatou, arigatou!" she says, bowing her way out. She readjusts her gym bag over her shoulder and turns around. The masked woman known as the Scion of Light has finally signed her contract into the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation.


She walks down the hallway, passing a man in a full bird costume. She raises her hand as if she's about to greet him, but he just walks on by.


"... taihen." she mutters.


Undaunted she continues towards the locker rooms. She turns a corner and nearly runs right into a big brick house of a wrestler, towering above her.


"Go-gomen... ano... Sorry!" she blurts out. Bruce Blank merely grunts as he walks past.


If her eyes were visible through her mask, they'd look like giant saucers after the run-in. She shakes her head and moves onwards. Ahead, a broad shouldered man in a blue warmup suit catches her attention. He spies her, and walks towards her, something glinting in his hands. Excited that she might finally find someone to say something to her, the Scion of Light quickens her pace. She raises her hand in a wave towards him.


"Hello!" she says in a heavily accented fashion.


Tom Flesher, still sweating from his previous outing walks up to meet the newcomer.


"Hello. You're new aren't you?" asks the Cruiserweight Champion.


"HAI!" she exclaims, "I am the Scion of Light!"


To emphasize this, she strikes a Kamen pose, with one arm bent towards her head, and the other straight towards the sky. Her smile almost beams out from her mask.


"Yes. Hello. Here, hold this," says Tom Flesher. He unceremoniously tosses the Cruiserweight Championship towards her. Momentarily stunned, it takes the Scion a split second to drop out of pose before clumsily catching the belt. Meanwhile Flesher has walked past her down the other end of the hall.


"Ano... ano... Excuse me... Sir?" she asks, quickly following the man in the blue warmup suit.

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Mike Van Siclen storms into SWF Commissioner Joseph Peters’ office, a bright new welt across his forehead to match all of the bruises from being attacked by birds the previous week on Lockdown. He looks expectantly at Peters. “Well?”


Peters rolls his eyes as he looks up from the paperwork he was perusing. “Well what, Michael?”


“Well, what are you going to do about Wildchild?” demands Van Siclen. “You’re going to fire him, right?”


“Fire him?” Peters asks with a smirk. “For what?”


“For what?” MVS repeats incredulously. “What the (bleep) do you mean, ‘for what?’ You know what! Wildchild violated his suspension by wrestling as the Birdman. Now, you’ve got to fire him; rules are rules!”


“Unfortunately,” replies Peters, “I’m not going to be able to do that… You see, as of last Wednesday, Wildchild’s suspension was lifted.”


“What?” roars the Spectacle. “(Bleep)-ing why? Who the (bleep) would allow something that galacticly stupid to happen?”


Peters breaks into a full-fledged grin as he stares back at Van Siclen. “You did.”




“It was part of that contract you signed last week,” explains the commissioner.


“What the (bleep) are you talking about?” asks MVS. “What (bleep)-ing contract?”


“The contract you signed after your… uhm… incident during the House of Marvelous segment,” replies Peters. “You came in here and signed those contracts that Wildchild left with that note… unfortunately for you, you didn’t bother to actually read it.”




“Meaning,” continues Peters, “that among other things, an affidavit signed by you, petitioning the SWF Board of Directors to repeal Wildchild’s suspension was forwarded up to them. And, since you’re the person responsible for his suspension in the first place, the Board determined that they would expedite the repealment.”


“I don’t believe this.” Van Siclen shakes his head. “I don’t (bleep)-ing believe this. The whole (bleep)-ing world’s against me, I (bleep)-ing swear to God… Wait a minute; you said ‘among other things,’ Peters… WHAT (bleep)-ing other things?”


“Oh,” replies Peters. "I think that you might want to get in front of a monitor here real soon…"

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Smarkdown returns with the House of Marvelous set ready to go in the middle of the ring. The luxurious suede couch and matching love seat have yet again been replaced, due to the unfortunate (for Sir Marvelous and Mike Van Siclen) turn of events at the end of last week’s episode of Lockdown. The one constant remains the arch, and the ever-present velvet rope.


“It’s time for the next installment of the SWF’s newest hit,” says Mak Francis, “the House of Marvelous! And once again, King, we don’t have any idea who tonight’s guest is going to be!”


“When I first heard the pitch for this, I though that it was going to flop for sure,” says the Suicide King. “But it’s been a ratings bonanza! It’s just too bad that the original contract was only for three episodes; hopefully Peters will realize that this thing is a cash cow and renew it after Genesis.”


“Boy, you said it, King!” agrees Mak. “The Commissioner has GOT to keep this going after Genesis; the House of Marvelous is an excellent potential platform for our talent to introduce themselves to our fans! Let’s face it, King, you’ve got to have a lot of clout in this company in order to get that exclusive opening promo time, and if you’re not one of the Toxxic’s or Flesher’s or Maddix’s of the world, you could come up short… But with a show like the House of Marvelous, we now have a platform for ALL our talent to show whether or not they have the well-rounded game to take that next step as well!”


With that, Notorious BIG’s “I Love the Dough” heralds the arrival of Michael Anderson, who limps out onto the stage, leaning heavily on his cane, and dressed in a black pinstriped suit. As always, Anderson is accompanied by the massive Tracey Bruner; the bodyguard is wearing a blood-red Armani, and a matching hat, his coal-black eyes obscured by sunglasses.


“Who the hell wears sunglasses indoors?” jokes King. “And what’s with that suit? He looks like a 6’10” black Santa Claus!”


“I tell you what, King,” laughs Mak, “why don’t YOU tell him that he looks like Santa Claus?”


“No way!” replies King hastily. “YOU tell him; you’re ALREADY paralyzed!”


“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “please welcome: Sir… Marvelous!” Marvelous’ ridiculously insincere smile threatens to crack his face in half, as he makes his way to the ring. He limps up the steel steps, and then waits on Bruner to get up to the apron and hold open the ropes for him before he enters the ring. Once inside, he then waits for Bruner to unhook the velvet rope before he passes through the arch and picks the microphone up from the stand as his music fades out.


“Welcome,” drawls Anderson, “to the House of MAAAAARVELOUS! I am your host, Sir Marvelous, and once again, the House of Marvelous was the highest-rated segment of SWF programming last week, and for that, I thank each and every one of you!!”


Some fans seemed pleased by this news and want to cheer, but to most others, it comes across as Anderson unnecessarily patting himself on the back, and they start booing.


“My guest tonight has a few words to say about a match that you may have heard was just recently signed for Genesis…”





“He also,” continues Anderson, “just recently revealed himself to be the alter ego of the Birdman…”





“Aw no!” groans King.



“Ladies and gentlemen,” finishes Marvelous, “please, show some love for… the Wildchild!” The fans begin to cheer wildly the lights cut out:



















Hamilton erupts as Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” heralds the arrival of the Bahama Bomber! A solitary spotlight pierces the Ivor Wynne Stadium, flashing off and on in rhythmic time as the beat throbs melodiously. The cheers become even louder as the Bahama Bomber saunters out onto the stage, having changed completely out of the Birdman costume, and into street clothes. In his hand, he is holding a fairly thick collection of documents.


“There he is!” shouts Mak. “One of the most anticipated returns of the year, as Wildchild officially comes back to the SWF. And King, you’ve got to believe that he’s got a lot to say!” WC makes his way down to the ring and somersaults between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring. He stands patiently in front of the velvet rope, and waits for Bruner to admit him before he takes his place besides Anderson. Wildchild looks out into the crowd as his music fades out, and the fans begin chanting for him:







Marvelous holds the microphone patiently for WC to make his opening remarks, but the Bahama Bomber takes another moment to gather himself emotionally before leaning into the microphone and saying:


“So… what’s new?”









“Wildchild,” begins Marvelous, “Obviously, I already know the answer to my next question, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t get it on record: were you always the Birdman?”


Wildchild looks at Anderson, and then looks out into the crowd before turning back towards the microphone to reply, “Oui!”


“Alright then,” continues Marvelous. “And now for a question that I DON’T already know the answer to: why?”


“Yeah,” cosigns King. “Cough it up, damn you! Why did you go through that charade for two years?”


As if he hears King’s complaints, the Tropical Tumbler leans towards the microphone and answers, “It was about vengeance, pure an’ simple; I became de Birdman t’give myself a better chance t’get at Van Siclen… because he’s too much of a BITCH t’fight me face on!”






“Okay Wildchild,” asks Marvelous, “and just what do you mean by that?”


“Two years ago, Mike Van Siclen tried t’end my career,” explains Wildchild. “While I was recovering, I started to hear talk dat he was refusing t’fight me! He was goin’ around tellin’ people dat he wasn’ gon’ fight me because he didn’ have any’ting t’prove… Dat, as far as he was concerned, what he did t’me was in his past, an’ he wasn’ gon’ t’revisit his past for my benefit… An’ dat’s when I came up wit de idea t’come back under a disguise.


“But den,” continues WC, “before I got a chance t’face him, he cheated me out of my revenge by leaving de SWF!”


“Hey now,” admonishes Mak, “I think that Van Siclen is a twit as much as the next guy, but let’s be fair; he left the SWF because he lost a career match against Toxxic!”


“And what’s with all these comebacks?” asks King idly. “Van Siclen is back after just two years, Dangerous is back after less than a year… what happened to when losing a career match meant that you kicked rocks and didn’t come back?”


“So,” asks Anderson, “if you couldn’t convince Van Siclen to fight you, then how did you get him to change his mind?”


“It took me a while before I figured out which buttons t’push wit’ him,” replies WC. “Like I said, I couldn’t get him t’fight me, an’ I didn’ have a belt dat I could use as bait… But, after weeks of studyin’ him, I finally figured out what makes him tick: Van Siclen has a bigger ego den any person ought t’have… He actually t’inks dat he’s God’s gift t’wrestlin’. I figured out dat de one t’ing dat he can’t stand is t’be publicly embarrassed, so I set about t’use de Birdman identity t’keep getting under his skin, until he finally snapped an’ gave me de match dat I’ve been wantin’ from him.”


“And,” continues Marvelous, “I suppose it would be safe to say that it worked?”


WC flashes his trademark grin. “You’re damned right it worked!”






“I got dat sumbitch so spun up dat he didn’ know if he was comin’ or goin’!” continues Wildchild. “I got him so frustrated, so bent outta shape, so embarrassed an’ enraged, dat he was willin’ to do whatever it took t’get rid of me…” WC pauses to lift the handful of documents into the field of vision. “Even sign a contract dat he didn’ bother t’read!”






“Dis contract means dat at Genesis, it’s gon’ be you an’ me, Van Siclen!” shouts the Caribbean Cruiser. “But, it’s not gon’ jus’ be any match… it’s gon’ be no countout, an’ no-DQ!”





“You’re not gon’ be able t’duck me any more!” continues WC. “For de past two years, you’ve been livin’ on borrowed time, but at Genesis, Van Siclen… your time is UP!” With that, “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to play once more, as Wildchild salutes the crowd.


“And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen!” shouts Francis. “Wildchild disguising himself as the Birdman was all part of a carefully-designed plot to lure Mike Van Siclen into a match at Genesis, and it’ll be Wildchild versus Van Siclen, with no countout, and no disqualification!”


“Wildchild went to a hell of a lot of trouble to get this match made,” says King. “He’d better know what he’s just gotten himself into!”


“We’ll be right back,” shouts Francis, “with more Smarkdown!”


Wildchild climbs up onto the turnbuckles and salutes his fans…



As we:


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And, backstage, SWF employees in the vicinity of Mike Van Siclen’s dressing room are suddenly startled by a loud burst of profanity:





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"Ladies and gentlemen, THIS is your main event of SWF Smarkdown! Scheduled for one fall, it is for the SWF WOOORLD Tag Team Championships!"


"Alright!" chirps King, surprisingly upbeat at the prospect of a Stephens/Maddix match.






"And the countdown is on."


"The countdown to the total annihilation of those Two Skinny White Guys!" cheers King, announcing just why he's so upbeat.






Cut to the crowd and to a conveniently placed "HEY BUSH, BLAIR, WE FOUND THEM!" sign in the front row...









A huge mushroom cloud of smoke plumes up over the entrance way as the countdown concludes and when the dust clears, the intimidating frames of the challengers appear. On the left, Bruce Blank is first to move, swaggering down the ramp with his brother Wayne cheering him on. Beside him is probably the biggest man in SWF history, Nemesis, flanked by Professor William Attenborough.


"Introducing first tonight, the challengers! Being accompanied to the ring by Professor William Attenborough and Wayne Blank... at a total combined weight of seven hundred, five pounds... the team of "THE HAND OF THE GODS", NEMESIS and the SWF International Champion, "THE REDNECK SUPERMAN" BRUCE BLANK... they are THE WEAPONS OF MASS DESSSSSSTTRRRRRUUUUCCTTIIIIOOOOOONN!!!!"




The monstrous duo make their respective ways into the ring, Bruce confidently winding up his Lariating arm as his masked partner clambers in over the top rope. Towering over everybody, including his six foot eight teammate, Nemesis is given some last minute instructions from Attenborough, who has apparently transformed his life to become an expert on the finer arts of professional wrestling. Good for him.


"Yikes," is all Mak can seem to muster, looking up into the ring.


"What's that cute little rhyme Mak, 'bring your daughter to the slaughter'? Well, I don't know if Landon's momma drove him here tonight or not, but after what happened on Lockdown and what Bruce and Nemesis are going to do tonight, he'd best keep his VIP pass in hand when he leaves, because she certainly won't recognise him."


"A burn and casting aspersions over Landon's gender. You're on fire tonight, King."


"I'm excited!" says King, excitedly. "Tonight's gonna be the night! Maddix at 100% is barely worth mention and he's far from that due to Gabriel Drake. Which leaves Michael Stephens to carry the load against two huge, dominating competitors. And so close to Genesis VII too. Oh, it's too glorious Mak. The flippy-floppy cruisers of this place are FINALLY getting their comeuppance from the monster brigade!"


"You've counted Stephens and Maddix out before King and usually, you've been wrong. The odds on paper may be stacked, but I guarantee you, tonight the 'Guys will be intent on proving they are indeed men."



"Uh-huh, that's my shit

All you girls stomp your feet like this

'Few times I've been around that track

But it's not just gonna happen like that

Cause there ain't no hollaback girl, there ain't no hollaback girl!"


"You were saying?"


"Oh sweet Jesus."


As the undoubtedly bumping beats of "Hollaback Girl" by Gwen Stefani pump through the Ivor Wynne Stadium's P.A system, the crowd aren't sure whether to laugh, cheer or reach up through their noses and tug their brains from their head with their bare hands, then stomp on it a little before finally devouring it and dying. Luckily for profits, they choose a mixture of 1 and 2, as the Champions emerge. Landon is still showing signs of the beating he took five days ago, his forehead bandaged up for precaution as much as anything. But still he finds time to mug for the crowd, Megan applauding in the background. Storming past are the Stephens siblings, Mike looking about ready to commit harikiri at being forced to enter to this song while Amy just chugs on her beer.


"And their opponents, accompanied by Amy Stephens and Megan Skye. Weighing in at a total combined weight of four hundred and forty two pounds... they are the reigning and defending SWF WORLD Tag Team Champions. The team of LANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MADDIX and the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, MICHAEL STEPHENS... THHHEEEEEE GGAAAALLAAACCTTIIIIICCOOOOOOOSSSS!!!"




"Well, a new team name for Stephens and Maddix."


"Eh, they'll always be little more than Two Skinny White Guys to me, Mak."


"That said, the Champions come in tonight with a huge weight disadvantage, a huge height disadvantage and with Landon Maddix not in top condition. With Michael Stephens' mind all over the place right now, there may be no better time for The WoMD to receive a shot at the tag straps."


Teeth gritted and his eyes rolling, Stephens rolls into the ring and pops up to find Blank and Nemesis standing over him. Wisely Mike backs away and calls referee Hardcastle in to keep the opponents back until the bell goes. Stephens then turns to Maddix and yells at him to hurry up, mostly because the music is driving him frikkin' nuts. But apparently Landon is quite digging it, even playing air trombone as he climbs the steps.


"It's a pity they found another team-name," muses King, "I've come up with the perfect one. Queer Eye For The Queer Guy."


"That's cute."


Landon takes one look into the ring and decides against his usual entrance, retreating back down the steps and staying on the outside of the ring to converse with Megan. Understandably, Stephens doesn't like this. But Landon points out the bandage on his forehead, giving him a good excuse not to start against either of the big bad opposition. To be fair, Stephens knows he's right.



Which makes the fact he's distracted and therefore jumped from behind by Bruce Blank all the more frustrating.




"Bruce, before the bell!" groans Mak. "Always one to take the cheap route when possible and no different tonight!"





With typical ruthlessness Bruce keeps on clubbing with the forearms as Nemesis is pointed to his corner by Hardcastle, already in danger of losing control as Bruce lays on a blatant choke!






Bruce breaks the choke...but clamps it right back on as soon as the count is broken!






Another break from the International Champion, something which he would consider clean wrestling. He now brings Stephens up to his feet and with a snarl on his face, the roughneck Redneck Superman grabs at Stephens' customised England soccer (it's football, damnit!) shirt, TEARING it to shreds to the dismay of the two girls in heavy eyeliner in the front row.


"Those bints won't be fighting over the shirt this week," smiles King.


Now shirtless, Stephens tries to create some distance for himself as he kicks out at Blank, rolling backwards and to his feet, at which point he explodes into life. Stephens pounces forward, leaping into Bruce's arms and peppering him with right hands, which Bruce sees as an annoyance, shoving Stephens away in frustration. Stephens comes right back at his burly opponent though, still swinging and managing to not look too out of his depth. At least, until Bruce shoves him off again, sending him plummeting to the canvas. Wisely the World Champion realises he can't keep the upperhand for long with this tactic and as he gets to his feet, he plays a little cat and mouse. His pause prompts Bruce to lunge on the attack. Stephens rolls under his sprawling arms though, through to a charge to the ropes. Around lumbers Blank, already pissed at the cruiserweight tendencies of his opponent, even before Stephens fires out at his knee with a patented soccer tackle!


"This is what Stephens and Maddix have to do tonight," Mak calls, "they have to use their speed and agility to out-fox their larger opponents."


Bruce's right leg shoots out from underneath him and he only just plants his hands in time to avoid faceplanting into the canvas. However, he might have been better going down because as he stands Stephens kips up right next to him, springing up and firing a big enziguri into the back of Bruce's head!




"Kip-up Enziguri! There's some agility, from the man who could be the next Cruiserweight Champion at Genesis VII!" cheers Mak, drawing a low growl from his announce partner.


Fired up, Mike goes with what's working and hits the ropes again. Bruce is still up on his feet and shakes off the kick as Stephens skids across the canvas with another soccer tackle...




...but Bruce is able to thwart that attempt, lifting his leg over the sliding Sensation and as he comes to a stop, down comes the foot, stomping Stephens right in the base of the spine!


"Ha! They don't have that in soccer!" cheers King, clapping his hands with childish glee.


"You've never been to England, have you?"


Smiling away, Bruce grabs hold of Mike's blue-black hair and with his typical disdain for cruiserweight athletes he just tosses him face-first into the WoMD corner. Stephens ends up slumped in the corner, and things are only going to get worse as Bruce gladly extends a hand and allows his partner to tag in.


"Oh boy, here we go!" King cheers.


"Nemesis in with the World Champion, boasting a foot and four inch height advantage and almost TWO hundreds pounds in weight!"


Coming in over the top rope, Nemesis wastes no time in displaying his amazing power by lifting Stephens from a seated position and to his feet in one, clean movement. Pressing him against the turnbuckles, lifting his hand overhead and bringing it CLUBBING down across the chest of Stephens! That quickly, Stephens is right back down on his ass in the corner; he doesn't stay there for long though, as again he's hauled up by Nemesis and again, The Hand Of God comes crashing down upon him!






The answer to that would be "no sir, I don't like that much at all", although maybe not in so many words, Stephens already feeling it from the heavy-handed strikes. Grabbing some hair Nemesis brings Stephens back up again and the size difference now becomes completely apparent as The Colossus reaches down, scooping the World Champion up over his shoulders and simply pressing him down with a slam! A simple move, but evidently effective, Stephens nursing the 7'4" fall as he starts to crawl across the ring in search of the tag. Nemesis puts a stop to that in a hurry though, pinning Stephens down by treading on his trailing ankle, then leaving the mat to deliver an elbow drop to the spine...





...but despite barely making it into the air, he still comes down slowly enough for Stephens to roll to safety!




"Again, the speed advantage coming into play," Mak points out.


Stephens is back to his feet, but it's nowhere near as nimbly as earlier and he's immediately forced to stretch out his back, feeling it from the big slam. Nemesis looks angry more than anything as he rises and stalks after The Sensation. Not one to back down from a fight, Stephens is waiting on him, firing off a kick to the gut. That barely shakes the monster, so Stephens tries again, before adding in a more karate-esque thrust kick. Nemesis is still yet to double over and understandably, that isn't filling Michael Stephens with a whole lot of confidence right now. Stephens opts for a different mode of attack this time and shoots for the legs, attempting a takedown reminiscent of one Tom Flesher.


Only, his usually work.


Arms wrapped around the legs, Stephens pushes and pulls but he makes absolutely no progress. And Nemesis eventually puts Stephens out of his misery, bringing The Hand Of God down across Stephens' spine!


"The Hand Of God, a touchy subject with Englishmen."


"Nevermind that," snaps King, "point out the fact that that was embarrassingly bad amateur wrestling from our World Champion! He's going to get schooled at Genesis, that's a prime example of why."


"To be fair, Tom Flesher isn't seven foot four, four hundred ten pounds."


Hooking up the arm, Nemesis now takes his time in pulling the World Champ up. Maddix is watching on intently but as the masked man glares in his direction he magically spots someone in the crowd he recognises, conveniently allowing him to avoid eye contact with the monster. But Nemesis can smell the fear. Still with Stephens, Nemesis takes a sidestep and beils him up into the air for a giant hiptoss...



...only for Stephens to flip through, landing on his feet! Stephens jumps, landing a dropkick...which doesn't put Nemesis down, but does buy Stephens time to tag out to Landon.




"And a cheer for Landon Maddix!?" Mak says, almost tripping over his words in disbelief.


"Well, it IS Canada."


As Landon steps into the ring, his partner begins to leave and seek a well earned breather. But Landon doesn't much fancy taking on the 7 foot plusser on his own and pulls Stephens back in by the arm, calling for a double team. Stephens sighs but shrugs his shoulder in acceptance.




If he thought the double-team involved Landon hopping to the middle rope, then sitting himself on his shoulders, he might have said no.


"Oh, wait a minute...so much for the height advantage!"


"You've got to be kidding me..." groans King.


"Hey, it works in Scooby Doo."


A ridiculous sight indeed, Landon has come up with a 'cunning' plan to combat the size difference. On Michael's shoulders, he hovers a good few feet above Nemesis. Even so, Stephens protests from underneath him but Landon points forward and yells at Stephens to walk towards Nemesis, who has turned around. And even he has to stop and look confused for a moment. And that confusion allows Stephens time to waddle within striking distance, allowing Landon to do that, firing off a forearm to the face!




"Oh, come ON!" King groans once more.


Bruce and Wayne are going nuts on the floor, protesting at how unfair this all is, as Landon fires another forearm down from his perch to the top of Nemesis' head. The fact he's carrying 220 pounds does Stephens' back no further favours though and he shouts up at his partner to quit fooling around. But in that time, Nemesis has shaken off the blows and comes back on the attack, landing a Big Boot on Stephens...






...which causes him to drop Landon with an Electric Chair!




"Another brilliant idea from the mind of Maddix." sneers King.


Having seen enough wackiness from (one of) the Tag Champions, Bruce now comes in and pitches Michael Stephens to the floor. Meanwhile, his partner has hold of Landon and ignores his pleas for mercy, lifting him under the armpits and hoisting him high into the air, over with a hard thud into a neutral set of turnbuckles! On orders from Attenborough, Nemesis steps aside as Bruce comes charging, CRUSHING Landon in the corner with an Avalanche. Wringing the arm, Bruce then sends Landon back into his partner's direction with an irish whip, Nemesis lifting up a boot and simply allowing Maddix to run face-first into it, almost flipping him inside out!


"I'm not sure how many stitches or even what type of stitches Landon has," begins Mak, "but whatever treatment he did get after Lockdown, he can't take too many of them before that cut becomes re-opened."


"And believe me, with Bruce in the ring, that will be exactly the challengers' intention." King smiles. "You know how sadistic he is. Sure, he's the International Champion now, a fine old school competitor, but deep down that meanstreak is still boiling over inside."


Bruce retreats to his corner to get Hardcastle off of his back, but it's only in order to accept a legal tag from Nemesis. Stepping in with a swagger in his step, Bruce stalks around the fallen Cucaracha, waiting for him to look back up...before SLUGGING him right in the head, putting him flat on his face!




"No technical prowess there," calls Mak, "that's just a right hand aimed right at that cut!"


Landon is in a bad way. And Bruce knows it, giving the World Champion a touch of the badmouth before nonchalantly swinging his leg out, dropping it across the back of Landon’s head! Landon's body jerks up from the force, causing Stephens to wince from the TSWG corner.






"Now, who is it that calls themselves Two Skinny White Guys?" King protests, as the crowd turn volatile.


"Pretty much just Landon. But that doesn't mean he's trash."


"I beg to differ."


All too used to the chants, Blank doesn't seem too concerned, as he drops another big legdrop across the neck of Maddix. Nonchalantly, Bruce then tips Maddix onto his back, leaning on top with a casual cover...


















“They call Landon ‘The Cockroach’ for a reason,” Mak exclaims, “he’s very hard to kill, but Bruce and Nemesis are on the right lines!”


“Thank God.”


God probably isn’t taking responsibility for Bruce’s actions but the Redneck Superman hauls Landon up again and hoists him over his head, then with a malicious grin on his face he starts pressing his cruiserweight opponent. The crowd decline to count along, and after realising that no-one’s joining in the fun Bruce’s face takes on a sulky cast at number eight and he just drops Landon behind him. Then he rolls Maddix over with his boot and makes a cover by standing on the former World Champion’s chest…


















…but Landon kicks out!


“Come on,” Mak snorts, “you’re going to need a better cover than that to keep Maddix down; annoying and immature he most certainly is, but he’d have to pretty much be out cold for that to work.”


“Good point,” King agrees, “Bruce! Hit the spotmonkey in the head!”


It’s unclear whether Bruce heard the Gambling Man, but he seems fairly eager to comply anyway and hauls Landon up off the mat again. He then reaches out one hand and gets a tag from Nemesis (not difficult, considering their combined reach they can tag from pretty much the centre of the ring), then fires Landon off the ropes. The dazed Maddix is unable to take much evasive action and he runs headfirst into a Blank roadblock as the International Champion hoists his opponent up, then slams him down with a spinebuster…




…just in time for Nemesis to land an elbowdrop!


“Hah! Maddix was too dumb to move!” King gloats.


“Well, Bruce did have hold of his legs,” Mak points out.


“Picky, Francis, picky.”


Nemesis makes a cover, although it mainly consists of sprawling across Maddix and waiting for Hardcastle to make the count…



















-but Landon kicks out! A low, rumbling growl emanates from somewhere under the monster’s mask and he grabs Maddix with the clawhold and brings him to his feet. Maddix woozily tries to take a couple of swings at the big man but Nemesis is holding him well out of reach and extends his other arm towards Bruce, back in the WoMD corner. The Redneck Superman responds and tags back in, prompting Nemesis to whip Landon into the ropes before standing next to his partner and raising their feet simultaneously to greet the onrushing Maddix with a stereo big boot!




Nemesis unhurriedly steps over the top rope to the outside and Bruce drops to make the cover…



















-broken up by a basement dropkick from Michael Stephens!




“Get him out of there!” King roars as Hardcastle gets up to do just that. Bruce looks up and glowers at Stephens, who flips the big man a v-sign as he exits the ring. This doesn’t worry the bigger Blank brother though, and he takes hold of Landon to pull the battered La Cucaracha upright once more. Once standing, albeit with Maddix sagging in his grasp, Bruce draws one thumb conspicuously across his throat to signal for ‘the end’ and hooks Maddix up as if for a vertical suplex. Bruce easily lifts Landon up for the Blank Bomb before shoving him off forwards for the sitout powerbomb…


…and as he starts to fall Landon wraps his legs around Bruce’s head and jerks backwards to take the International Champion over with a Hurri-Lanrana!








“That’s some brilliant innovation by Landon!” Mak Francis exclaims, “but can he capitalise?”


“No more than he can punctuate!” King fires back.


“…OK, how long have you been waiting to use that one?”


Landon’s inventive counter certainly took Bruce off-guard, but the Tag Champion isn’t able to get up quickly to get to the corner where Michael Stephens awaits. Instead Landon gets up to one knee and grabs the ropes to steady himself while he shakes his head, looking to clear it. Bruce gets up and heads for Landon, Maddix straightens then ducks under a swinging right hook, turns to face his opponent…




…and both men simultaneously gouge their opponent in the eyes!


“Never has the phrase ‘an eye for an eye’ been more true,” Mak opines.


“That’s weak, Francis.”


Landon staggers away, swiping at his eyes; Bruce does so as well, and as it clears he sees Michael Stephens looking at him from the apron. With a cunning plan suddenly springing to mind Blank accelerates forward, taking the World Champion by surprise and slamming into him with a running forearm that knocks him clean to the stadium floor!




Meanwhile Landon has found himself facing Nemesis, never a pleasant sight at the best of times. Maddix turns away from the WoMD corner, sees Bruce coming for him and rolls under the big man’s attempted lariat before rushing for his own corner… only to see his tag team partner lying on the floor with Amy Stephens trying to haul him upright!


“Look out!” Megan shrieks, causing Landon to duck and roll to one side just as Bruce Blank thunders up behind him; the International Champion’s avalanche attempt fails and he crashes chest-first into the corner, missing Landon yet again. Maddix sees his chance and takes Blank over with a schoolboy, then places both his feet on the second rope…



















-but Bruce kicks out! Maddix grabs the rising Bruce with a cravate which prompts the crowd to groan in unison, but Landon quickly transitions into a position where he can kick Bruce repeatedly in the head as hard as he can!















The crowd roar their approval at this side of Landon’s game and the Next Generation grins, then as Blank slumps to one knee Landon slaps his own right knee, turns and runs for the ropes…


…and Nemesis lifts a long, long leg to kick Landon in the back as he hits the cables. Maddix staggers forward and drops to one knee himself, clutching his back, and Bruce gets up. The big man shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, focuses on Landon in a vulnerable position in front of him and lumbers forwards. It’s not clear exactly how he plans to do it, but what is apparent is that he’s intent on causing pain.


Therefore, it’s just as well that Landon manages to overcome the pain he’s already in to rise back to his feet and leap up to catch the onrushing Bruce with a Dropsault!




Maddix lands hard and it’s clear that he’s jarred something, or maybe knocked the wind out of himself. Regardless, he looks towards his corner and sees the incredibly welcome sight of Michael Stephens standing there, the straight-edger looking slightly woozy still but back on his feet and wanting into the match. Maddix starts crawling…


…Bruce grabs at Landon’s foot to try and stop him, but misses…


…and Maddix makes the tag!




Michael Stephens vaults over the top rope, ready to exact some revenge; however, Professor Attenborough has realised that Bruce won’t be able to get back to the WoMD corner in time and directs Nemesis to cut Stephens off! The monster obediently steps over the top rope and raises a big (VERY big) boot to catch Mike in the face; unluckily for him the Sensation ducks clean under it (not much ducking required, if we’re honest), then runs up the turnbuckles in the WoMD corner and leaps off backwards. Nemesis turns to try and get a bead on his opponent, but is simply blasted in the chest by the Corkscrew Dropkick…


…and doesn’t go down!


“What!?” Mak yelps, “that took Nemesis square in the chest! It staggered him, but the monster is still on his feet!”


However, Michael Stephens has other things on his mind; Bruce has got up, and in order to stop him from making a contribution to proceedings the World Champion is obliged to blast him in the head with a superkick.




Bruce is knocked back into the ropes and Stephens returns his attention to Nemesis, only to have the monster’s enormous arm snake out and fingers like bananas clamp around his head in the Claw! Stephens tries to reach the big man, but this proves to be a costly move as instead of keeping his opponent out of reach Nemesis actively draws Mike in, straight into a massive knee to the gut! The breath is blasted from the World Champion’s lungs but Stephens has just enough energy left to slam his foot down hard on Nemesis’ toes, causing the monster to grunt in pain, limp backwards and release the Claw.


“Hey! Ugly!”


Nemesis falls victim to the ‘you know your name then’ school of humour as he turns towards the source of the sound, which turns out to be Landon Maddix perched on the second buckle. Nemesis pauses for a moment, seemingly confused, and in that moment Landon leaps off with a spinning gamengiri… at exactly the same time as Stephens slides into the back of Nemesis’ legs with a soccer tackle!







“He’s down! He’s finally down!” Mak shouts as Nemesis topples backwards and the crowd start up warring but appreciative chants for the two Galacticos. Professor Attenborough is having an apoplexy on the outside, while Wayne Blank is having something similar but with few syllables.


“Get him out of the ring!” King roars, “make your five-count, Hardcastle!”


“On who?” the Franchise demands, “Nemesis has been in there longer than Maddix!”


“No-one asked you!”


Sexton Hardcastle realises he’s virtually lost control of this match, but he doesn’t fancy trying to restore order at the moment with two massive monsters and two fired-up Galacticos in the ring, and settles for cowering in a corner and trying not to get hit. Meanwhile, Bruce Blank has got up again and, realising that with both Stephens and Maddix in the ring he’s not going to have the chance for anything fancy, uses the element of surprise to grab Landon and pitch the Cockroach out of the ring (between the top and middle ropes - see, Bruce pays attention in Clusterfucks, and knows about Landon’s cat-skinning abilities). Stephens kicks him in the gut and grabs a front facelock, presumably setting up for the Unfinished Business, but we’ll never know as Bruce wraps his arms around the straight-edger and hoists him off his feet, then drives forward to ram Stephens into a neutral corner! Nemesis is starting to get up now and Megan Skye hops up to the apron to protest to Hardcastle about his presence in the ring. Figuring that a blonde chick is easier to remove than a masked monster Sexton demands that she get down… and as his attention is distracted Landon, who didn’t land that hard on the outside, climbs to the top rope while Amy Stephens actually stirs herself and throws him a chair!


“Look out-” Mak begins, but doesn’t get to finish it.


Megan Skye grabs Sexton Hardcastle and applies the ol’ Figure-Four Liplock… and with the referee well and truly distracted, Landon comes off the top rope with a MASSIVE chairshot to Nemesis!






“You cheating-” King roars before his mic is muted by the production truck.


Nemesis drops and rolls out of the ring, partially from momentum and partly to presumably avoid further pain. Landon throws the chair out after him to avoid Hardcastle catching on, then turns his attention to Stephens and Blank. Bruce has his back to Landon and has hoisted Mike up over his shoulder for the Broken Dreams; just as he starts to run forward Maddix reaches up and grabs his partner’s legs, hauling Mike down off the International Champion and bringing Bruce up short with a puzzled expression on his face. He turns around and receives a double kick to the gut, then Stephens and Maddix turn around and each grab a ¾ headlock.


They look at each other and nod.


Then run forwards, towing Blank with them, running up the nearest set of turnbuckles and flipping backwards to drive the back of their opponent’s head into the canvas with Laberinto’s Sunny Revenge In England!




Megan has released Sexton; Mike makes the cover; Amy sits back down and swigs beer; Hardcastle drops to count, and Maddix stamps on Nemesis’ fingers as the monster tries to use the ring to pull himself up…






















“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners,” Funyon booms over the crowd roar, “and STILL~ SWF Tag Team Champions… THA GAAAAAAAAAA-LACTICOOOOOSSSSS!!”


“They cheated! Damnit Francis, they cheated more than Bruce and Nemesis!” King yells.


Maddix cheated,” Mak points out, “well, and Megan and Amy; Mike didn’t do a thing wrong. I’m not saying it’s right King, but it worked.”


“Just you wait!” King yells, “just wait ‘til Genesis, Toxxic! Tom’s gonna take your belt!”


Michael Stephens doesn’t look unduly concerned. He slaps hands with Landon Maddix and the last shot is of the two men turning to leave the ring as we









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