Genisis VII Losing Matches Thread

September 19, 2006

Mine wasn't nearly as well written as SOL's but as a wrestling fan, I rather would have seen mine happen in real life.

“Ladies and Gentlemen this is a 4way elimination contest. Coming to the ring first, he’s 6 feet 1 inch, weighing in at 230 lbs and hailing from Denver, Colorado….he’s the Raging Bull, the God of War……MAAAANSSSSOOOON!!!!!!”

The fans turn to the right corner of the outfield. The arena sits dark, silent as a guttural, distorted and disturbed, almost demonic warbling plays over the speakers, bringing the crowd to its feet as the tension in the arena builds and seconds pass...

...then a final growl kicks “Scientific Remote Viewing” by Cephalic Carnage into full gear, as the lights flare up and seizure-inducing strobes rapidly flash and pulse. The crowd jeers MANSON as he throws aside the curtain and enters the arena, the hood of his robe obscuring his visage as he pauses at the head of the ramp, looking over the sea of humanity before heading down the aisle.

He undoes his belt as he heads up the steps, letting his robe hang open and entering through the ropes. Immediately heading to his corner, he ascends the turnbuckles and flicks off his hood, then slowly raises both arms and flashes the horns to the crowd. He takes a moment to bask in the lights and camera flashes, taking in the atmosphere, then hops down, placing his robe over the post and warming up.

“Our next combatant hails from Kyoto, Japan. She weighs in at 160 lbs. and stands 5 feet and 5 inches. She is the SCION OF LIIIIIIIGHT!”

The fans turn to face the opposite side of the outfield. "Knights of Cydonia" by Muse begins to play in the middle of the song...

"No one's gonna take me alive

The time has come to make things right

You and I must fight for our rights

You and I must fight to survive"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

White pyro explodes from the entrance ramp as the music kicks up. The Scion jumps out, making a traditional Kamen pose (with one arm bent up towards the head, hand closed in a fist. Her other arm goes straight up, hand also closed in a fist). After a short stare down, she runs full speed to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and popping to her feet in time to face the other competitor in the ring. MANSON and SOL stare each other down. MANSON chuckles a bit from staring at a woman in the ring and the two go to opposite corners and wait for the next two.

“Our third opponent stands at 6 feet, 2 inches and weighs in at 245 lbs. He comes to us from Lethbridge, Alberta. SCOTT RAAAAAAGEHEEEEAAAART!”

‘Exciter’ by Judas Priest hits the loud speakers and the crowd turns once again to the right corner of the outfield. Scott Rageheart comes out from the back wearing knee length jean shorts, black wrestling boots and blue knee pads. A white t shirt with his name on the back in black and black elbow pads. Simple pyro goes off and he struts to the ring, giving a few shouts to the booing crowd. He slides in the ring and disposes of this t-shirt. He turns and waits for the final combatant.

“And finally, making his SWF debut and hailing from Detroit, MI. He stands 6 feet, 2 inches and weighs in at 225 lbs. SCOTTTTY “THE CRUUUUUSH” RAAAAAIIIINNAAAAA!”

The fans are getting anxious as this stick of dynamite is about to be lit. “One and the Same” by Audioslave hits the loud speakers. The guitar riff plays and the Smarktron lights up with a montage of Crush’s highlights. Scotty “The Crush” Raina comes out from the back really pumped up. He plays to the crowd; hopping around and genuinely enjoying himself. After a few high fives to the fans he slides under the bottom rope into the ring. In the middle of the ring he does the Bret Hart pose while white pyro goes off behind him.

Mak Francis – “ And this match is underway.”

Before the music stops Rageheart pounces and gives a hard clothesline to Crush, sending him to the mat.

SK – “Intelligent move by the veteran Rageheart. “

Rageheart, taking advantage of his downed opponent, stomps Raina as he fights to get back up. Raina starts gets to his feet and the two begin trading punches. Rageheart ends the small fight quickly with a rake to the eyes and Raina is stunned. Rageheart drops to one knee, grabs the head of Raina and pulls him to the mat with a snapmare. Wearing down his fallen foe, Rageheart follows with a series of 3 elbow drops to the chest of Raina and finishes with a leg drop. Rageheart doesn’t relent as he locks Raina in a rear chinlock, forcing his knee hard into Raina’s back. Rageheart holds it for a few moments and then breaks free. Raina is clutching his face while on both knees.

SK – “ Rageheart looks in control. I don’t think the rookie is going to get a single move in.”

Rageheart lifts his opponent off the mat to his feet. Raina looking like a rag doll in Rageheart’s hands. All of the sudden Raina rolls up Rageheart with a small package.

ONE

TWO……

KICKOUT!

Rageheart is furious at himself for falling for the feign of Raina. As both men spring to their feet Rageheart charges with a clothesline attempt. Raina ducks, both men turn, and Raina hits a back flip dropkick. Rageheart gets quickly to his feet. Raina has already shot himself off the ropes and lands a diving dropkick to Rageheart’s knee. Rageheart hits the mat, clutching his knee. Raina is quick to take advantage and starts stomping on the same knee.

Raina picks up the injured leg of Rageheart and begins to kick the backside of the knee. Rageheart is flailing on the ground in pain. Raina grabs the hurt leg of his downed opponent and begins to drag him to the ropes. Raina places the lower half of the leg onto the bottom rope so the injured knee is propped almost a foot above the mat. Raina turns and in one hop, jumps onto the top turnbuckle directly behind him. Raina leaps off the turnbuckle into a front flip. On the end of the full rotation his leg extends, attempting to leg drop the injured, suspended knee. When Raina comes full circle he meets nothing but canvass. Rageheart slid his leg out at the last second and Raina slams hard to the mat.

SK – “That was a stupid risk and he paid for it.”

Mak Francis – “That move may have broken Rageheart’s leg, though.”

Rageheart stands, hobbling on one leg and dives to the nearest corner. His hand comes down and it meets the flesh of MANSON. MANSON gets a sick grin on his face, stepping through the ropes gazing at a hurt Raina trying to get to his feet. MANSON meets Raina just as Raina stands, still shaken from his missed move. MANSON grabs Raina by the tuft of his hair and spits a large amount of saliva in his face. MANSON laughs while Raina looks like he’s ready to pass out. MANSON wants to end Raina’s match now. He reaches around Raina, grabbing him by the waist. With a swift move, MANSON flips Raina up so he is perched on MANSON’s shoulders. MANSON has a sick smile as he holds Raina up, ready to execute the MANSON Bomb. With a violent motion, MANSON brings Raina’s back to the canvass. Raina hits the mat so hard his body bounces slightly. MANSON lays his back on the fallen Raina with a slightly careless cover.

ONE……………..

TWO……………………

THR…..NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

SK – “How the hell did Raina kick out, Mak.”

Mak – “I have no idea. This kid has some real heart. “

A few handful of fans in the crowd start a medium volume chant of “RAIN-A, RAIN-A, RAIN-A.” MANSON looks furious. That was one of his most brutal moves on an already hurt opponent and he managed to kick out. MANSON thought it was going to be an easy elimination. MANSON grabs Raina by the hair and yanks him to his feet. Once he releases his hair, Raina collapses in a pile. MANSON picks him up again and the same thing happens. MANSON is sadistically laughing at the weak Raina. He finally grabs him by the arm and pulls him to his feet. MANSON yanks Raina into his body and wraps his arms around him. With a quick, strong lift he executes an over head belly to belly suplex. Raina flips over the top of MANSON and hits the turnbuckle upside down. Raina’s body crumples, setting on one shoulder with a leg resting against the middle rope and the other leg twisted back.

SOL, who is occupying that corner, looks at the human wreckage with a mix of worry and shock. Wait, the ref is saying something. Raina’s body made contact with SOL and she is now the legal wrestler. MANSON gets back to his feet and sees that SOL is making her way in. Being much smaller than MANSON, the two battlers look like a modern day David vs. Goliath, with David being a woman.

SK – “There’s a bit of a mismatch here. I’ll put the over/under for her being destroyed at 45 seconds.”

Mak – “This is her first match here in SWF so we really don’t know what she’s capable of.”

SK – “I don’t care if she can spit acid from her woman parts. She’s got no chance against the beast, MANSON.”

MANSON begins to laugh at the female wrestler standing across from him. SOL charges at MANSON and stops right in front of him. She starts a series of kicks and knees to the midsection of MANSON. MANSON takes a few of the strikes without wincing and finally grabs SOL by the head with both hands. He picks her up off the ground by her head while her legs are kicking and flailing. With a brutal shove, he sends her flying back onto the mat.

She lands on both knees and glares up at MANSON. She slowly rises to her feet while MANSON deeply chuckles. SOL puts her head down and in an instant charges MANSON. From a few feet away she leaps and sends a hard forearm to MANSON’s face. MANSON, caught off guard, takes the full brunt of the blow. He stumbles all the way back to the corner. But in the process of stumbling back, his elbow came in contact with Rageheart. The referee is informing MANSON that he is no longer the legal man. MANSON is furious and looks as if he’s going to strike the official. He doesn’t want to cost himself the match with a DQ so he relentlessly steps through the ropes as Rageheart slowly gets into the ring.

SK – “Rageheart is ready to tear this little girl apart.”

Mak – “It looks like his leg is alright. We’ll see if it affects him against The Scion.”

SOL runs at Rageheart, leaps and brings him down with a swift dropkick. Rageheart and SOL both quickly get to their feet but SOL has him beat by a second. She grabs Rageheart in a front headlock and starts to bring solid knee strikes to his face. Rageheart finally pushes her off and stumbles back. His nose is trickling a small trail of blood and he’s a bit dazed. With Rageheart more worried about the blood on his face, SOL bounces off the opposite ropes and runs towards Rageheart. She takes a few steps, dives towards Rageheart and lands a stiff elbow knocking Rageheart hard into the ropes. Rageheart is now using the ropes to keep himself on his feet while he is almost totally dazed.

Mak – “Rageheart looks in trouble. SOL is really giving it to him.”

SK – “That little tart has some fire.”

SOL gives the dazed Rageheart a few quick elbows to the side of the face. She takes a couple steps to her right, hops and uses the second rope to spring herself towards Rageheart. She lands with her legs around his head and quickly pulls herself and him over the top rope with a hurricanrana. Both bodies tumble to the floor with Rageheart taking the worst of it.

SOL gets to her feet while Rageheart is still on the ground, writhing in pain. SOL slowly slides into the ring and pulls herself to her feet. She stares at the turnbuckle as Rageheart is to his knees. SOL leaps to the top turnbuckle and perches like a hawk staring at its prey. Rageheart finally gets to his feet and he turns in SOL’s direction. SOL, the suicidal high flyer she is, soars off the turnbuckle initiating a back flip. It’s her finisher, Sinstriker's Will! She makes the full rotation on the shooting star press and crashes viciously into Rageheart on the floor. Their bodies collide like a high speed car crash and both wrestlers are down in a heap, not moving.

SK – “I think she just killed Rageheart and herself.”

Mak – “What a move by the female rookie!”

The chants start a loud, “HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!” chant as the referee starts the count out.

ONE….

TWO…..

THREE….

FOUR……

FIVE…..

SOL is struggling to her knees and Rageheart is still not moving.

SIX……

SEVEN…..

SOL gets to get feet and steps towards the ring. Rageheart struggles to his hands and knees and then both knees.

EIGHT…..

NINE……..

SOL is at the ring apron and slides in.

TEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rageheart dove at the last second and made it in the ring. SOL is rolling on the canvass clutching her ribs. Rageheart struggles to his feet buy uses to ropes to stand. He then dives to the corner and tags in a waiting MANSON. MANSON has a blood thirsty look in his eyes as he steps through the ropes. He stalks towards the still downed SOL. His sick grin is painted across his face. He reaches her as she gets to her hands and knees. MANSON reaches down and grabs SOL’s head. He picks her head up and places it crotch level. He starts to mock SOL by moving her head in a fellatio fashion. MANSON is laughing as he holds the practically limp SOL in his hands and degrades her. With a quick snap, SOL brings her arm in between the legs of MANSON and her forearm collides with his crotch.

MANSON drops SOL and clutches his crotch. SOL struggles to her feet. Trying to take advantage, SOL runs and bounces off the opposite ropes. She charges the seemingly oblivious MANSON. Out of no where MANSON turns and hits the charging SOL with a wicked clothesline. His arm collides with SOL’s head; her body does an impromptu back flip and lands like a piece of meat on the mat.

Mak – “Holy shit! He almost took her head off.”

SK – “That’s what she gets Mak. You don’t mess with a man’s sack.”

MANSON quickly pounces on SOL. Placing a knee on each side of her waist, MANSON starts to slap SOL in the face over and over. He’s laughing at the embarrassment he’s causing her. He starts to yell incomprehensible insults at her and bringing his hand way back before bringing it across her face. Everyone in the stadium can here the words that proceed out of MANSON’s mouth next.

MANSON – “Still want to fight you stupid, little bitch!?”

SOL remains silent for a moment as her head slowly rises slightly. She appears to be about to respond when a bloody spray of saliva rockets from her mouth and lands on the face of MANSON. MANSON snaps. He grunts in a fit of rage and starts to bring sickening fist strikes down on SOL’s head. The referee is warning him of the closed fist. MANSON doesn’t let up. It almost appears as if he’s killing his smaller opponent as his knuckles have hit so hard and fast that they’ve ripped a hole in her mask. The referee gets to the 5 count and MANSON isn’t letting up. The official finally grabs MANSON’s arm to stop the onslaught. MANSON, in a furious rage, shoves off the person grabbing at him. The referee tumbles to the mat.

The ref springs to his feet and signals the time keeper. MANSON has been disqualified! MANSON realizes what has just happened and he tries to chase the ref. The official slides under the bottom rope out of the ring. MANSON turns back to the nearly unconscious SOL. He reaches down and grabs her by the neck. In one swift motion, he brings her to her feet and holds her up. He turns her around and bends her back, placing her head under his arm. He brings her into the air, holding her vertical.

Mak – “Someone needs to stop MANSON from killing this girl. He’s out of this match.”

SK – “Looks like the little girl is going to get a taste of MANSON’s Surge of the Intent to Murder.”

With a violent motion he snaps her body down to the mat. Her head collides with the canvass and her body follows. It’s a scary scene as SOL lays on the mat not moving. MANSON gets to his feet, shouts something at the fallen foe and proceeds to leave the ring. As he heads to the back the referee slides back into the ring. Rageheart, realizing the opportunity, quickly gets in the ring and covers SOL’s beaten body.

ONE….

TWO…..

THREE……

Mercifully, this match is over for the courageous SOL. Trainers rush from the back as the referee carefully rolls her to the edge of the ring. The trainers ease her to the ground and take extreme caution checking on her.

Mak – “And we’re finally down to two.”

SK – “Rageheart looks ready to crush the rookie.”

Rageheart finally realizes there is another wrestler left and he turns to Raina’s corner. Just as his eyes meet the now empty corner; Raina comes soaring off of the top turnbuckle and hits a missile dropkick. Raina’s feet collide with Rageheart’s chest and both men hit the canvass. Raina is the quicker to his feet and he takes advantage of the downed opponent. When Rageheart gets to his hands and knees Raina dives and dropkicks him in the head. Rageheart sprawls on the mat again. Raina is quick to his feet and heads straight for Rageheart’s previously worked on knee.

Raina lifts the targeted leg and uses it to roll Rageheart onto his back. Intending to weaken the limb, Raina gives the inside of the knee a few quick kicks. Raina then locks the ankle under his arm and lifts Rageheart slightly off the mat, inverting his position. Rageheart is now on his stomach with his lower body bent upwards as Raina has his leg, bending it towards Rageheart’s body. Raina pulls Rageheart back in the single leg Boston crab. Rageheart screams in pain and struggles to reach the ropes. As Raina really starts to pull back on the leg Rageheart pulls with his elbow and finally gets close to the ropes. With a reach his hand secures around the bottom rope. The referee informs Raina to let go after holding for a couple extra seconds.

Raina stands and the ref steps in to discuss his lack of an immediate release. Rageheart uses the ropes to pull himself up to one leg. The ref finally finishes with Raina and steps out of the way. Raina, wanting to keep his opponent grounded, charges Rageheart. Rageheart ducks out of the way and uses Raina’s tights to pull him through the middle rope to the outside. Raina lands kind of rough on the ground. While Raina is recuperating on the outside, Rageheart takes the time to get to his feet, hobble to the opposite side of the ring and rest. Raina finally gets to his feet and rolls into the ring. Raina gets to his feet and rushes Rageheart. Rageheart meets Raina with a boot to the stomach. With Raina bent, Rageheart lifts Raina onto his shoulders into a torture rack submission hold.

SK – “This is it Mak. Rageheart has the rookie locked into his ‘90’s Flashback.’ It’s all over but the tapping’.

Just as Rageheart locks Raina in tight, his injured knee gives out and he falls into the ropes. With Raina on his shoulders the top heavy pair of wrestlers tumbles over the top rope. They both land in a heap on the floor with Raina taking the worse of the fall. Both men squirm on the ground in pain for a few moments. Raina rolls onto his back, eyes wide, blinking, and trying to regain his bearings. Rageheart struggles to his feet and uses the ring apron to stand. Rageheart slowly climbs onto the apron. He finally stands on the outside of the ropes, using them to keep himself standing. Raina springs to his feet, charges and hops onto the apron next to Rageheart.

Raina, trying to knock off his opponent, brings his left hand smack across Rageheart’s chest with a snapping chop. Rageheart battles back and chops Raina in return. Rageheart stuns Raina for a second and takes advantage. He reaches over and intertwines his leg around Raina’s and does the same with his arm. With one quick motion he sends both of them backwards, flying off with a side Russian leg sweep off of the ring apron. Raina takes the most of the fall as his back and head smack hard into the not so protective mats surrounding the ring. The crowd releases and audible, “OHHHHHHH!” as Raina’s body smacks onto the ground. Rageheart falls next to Raina, only taking a small part of the damage.

Mak – “Raina took a lot of damage there. Things look good for the veteran, Rageheart.”

Rageheart manages to his feet and slides into the ring. He pulls himself up using the ropes again and limps to the opposite side of the ring. He’s willing to let the ref count his opponent out. The referee starts the count on Raina.

ONE…..

TWO………

THREE…….

FOUR……..

FIVE……..

Raina struggles to both knees.

SIX……

SEVEN…….

EIGHT…….

Raina’s on both feet and quickly makes his way to the ring.

NINE……

Raina finally rolls in and pulls himself to his feet. Rageheart tries to blindside him and charges at Raina. Raina turns just in time and meets Rageheart with a quick dropkick. Rageheart hits the mat but quickly gets to his feet. As soon as Rageheart stands, Raina bounces off the ropes and meets Rageheart. Raina leaps into the air, catches Rageheart’s head and brings it crashing down to the mat with a leaping DDT. Rageheart’s head bounces off the mat and he lays on his back, stunned. Raina slowly gets to his feet.

Raina’s eyeing the legs as he moves to the laying Rageheart. Raina picks up one of Rageheart’s legs and with a quick twist; he has Rageheart locked into a figure four leg lock. The pressure is focused on the already injured knee of Rageheart. Rageheart is flailing in pain. Raina lifts himself up on his hands and applies maximum pressure on Rageheart. You can see the pain in Rageheart’s face as his eyes bulge. His hands are swinging, trying to grab Raina to break the hold. With one final attempt to release himself, Rageheart lunges and rakes the eyes of Raina. Raina grabs his face in pain and releases the leg submission.

Raina is quick to his feet and he lunges to grab the injured leg of Rageheart. He snatches both of Rageheart’s feet but Rageheart shoves his legs and flings Raina into the corner. Raina hits the turnbuckles tough and is dazes a bit. Rageheart struggles to his feet as Raina recovers. Raina comes at Rageheart but Rageheart meets him with a boot to the stomach. Rageheart pulls Raina’s head under his arm and in one motion lifts him into a vertical suplex. Rageheart starts to wobble on the injured leg but instead of releasing the hold, he simply lifts up his injured leg. Rageheart holds Raina straight in the air on one leg!

SK – “Look at the sheer power, Mak.”

With a quick jerk, Rageheart brings Raina backwards onto the mat. Raina’s body hits the canvass and the sound is a loud bang. Raina clutches his back and squirms in pain. Rageheart quickly rolls on top of Raina to seize the opportunity. The referee hits the mat and makes the count.

ONE……

TWO……

KICKOUT!

Raina kicks out and Rageheart is a little peeved. He thought he got the three count and he’s going to let the ref know about it. Rageheart gets to his feet and immediately gets in the refs face. He’s letting the curses fly as he keeps shoving three fingers into the ref’s vision. Rageheart has had enough and turns back to take on his fallen opponent. But Raina’s ready. He springs up and rolls Rageheart into a small package. The ref counts…

ONE…..

TWO….

KICKOUT!

Rageheart is pissed for once again falling for the quickness of Raina. He gets to his feet and swings his arm attempting to clothesline Raina’s head clean off. Raina ducks, clutches the back of Rageheart’s head and snaps it to the mat in a neckbreaker. Rageheart is in a little pain but manages to get back to his feet. Raina meets Rageheart standing and dropkicks him in the chest. Rageheart falls back into the corner and is left in a sitting position, back to the turnbuckles. Raina gets to the opposite corner, runs and executes a diving dropkick to Rageheart’s face. Raina’s boots meet Rageheart head and it snaps back. Rageheart looks almost out of it as Raina gets to his feet.

Raina grabs Rageheart by the head and lifts him to his feet. Rageheart is still stunned and he makes a couple steps out from the corner. Raina is quick to get behind him and mount the second turnbuckle. Raina leaps off and slams Rageheart’s head into the mat with a bulldog. Rageheart is really dazed laying on the mat as Raina gets back to his feet. Raina makes an “X” symbol over his chest. He’s signaling something. He turns and gets back to the corner. With a quick jump he’s mounted the top turnbuckle. Raina stands straight up, gets his balance and leaps off. Raina kicks his legs back over his head, doing a shooting star press. Raina makes a full rotation and an instant before he lands his legs outstretch and he hits a brutal leg drop on the head of Rageheart. The HEARTBREAKER! The crowd erupts for the rookie as he stretches his arms to cover Rageheart.

ONE………

TWO….

THREE!!!!

Raina is triumphant. He stumbles a little as he gets to his feet. The referee grabs his hand and raises it in victory. The crowd gives him a very decent applause as he mounts the turnbuckles and thanks them.

September 19, 2006

Damn. I'm sick so please excuse me not spelling Genesis right. I tried to edit the thread title but it won't let me.

Smartly Pretty · September 19, 2006

My match is a picture-perfect example of quality over quanity, I suppose.

WU-TANG CLAN COMIN’ ATCHA!

Wu-tang clan’s “Protect Ya Neck” blasts over the P.A system, and “The Divine Wind” Akira Kaibatsu makes his way out of the curtain. Sporting nothing other than his regular ring gear, he slaps hands with some of the lucky fans in the aisle, as Funon reaches for a microphone.

“First, from Sendai Japan, weighing in at one hundred ninety five pounds…THE DIVIINEEE WIIINNDD….AKIRAAAAAA KAIBATSUUUUUUUUU!”

Akira rolls into the ring at the front, and steps up onto the turnbuckle. He raises his hands in pride, with a huge smile on his face, as his rookie status is no more.

Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl...

And then *BAM*

The heavy drumming of Norma Jean’s “Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only to Destroy It” blasts through the arena as the lyrics pierce the ears of everyone listening.

“Like bringing a knife to a gun fight…

Like Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight…

LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUN FIGHT!”

Bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the growls hit the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black hoodie on, the hood covering most of his face. Something’s weird though…something about this entrance looks wrong…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“That dick, Spike! He’s entering the ring from the wrong entrance way!” Mak yells.

“Good! I hope he did! It’s stupid that some people have to enter from one side and other enter from another. Why the hell do we do that?!”

Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring.

“Hailing from Hollywood California…weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds…HOLLYWOOD! SPIKE! JEEEENKKIIINNNSS!”

Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style.

DING DING DING

“And we’re off! This should be a good one!”

Akira and Spike circle the ring, soaking in the red-hot Genesis crowd reactions. Smiling ear-to-ear, Akira locks up collar and elbow style, not unlike he did one year ago when he debuted. Spike pushes forward in the hold, and tries to shove Akira into the ropes, but Akira will have none of that, and simply pushes Spike forward breaking the tie up. Offended that the not-quite-rookie would disrespect him, Spike tries another tie up, but Akira shoves it off once again, seemingly just to piss off Spike.

“Akira’s been in the SWF for a whole year now,” Mak says. “It kinda shows.”

Spike wipes his brow, and charges at Akira once more. As with the pattern, Kaibatsu tries to shove The New Straight Edge Sensation off of him, but Jenkins is prepared by now, and spins to his left, and uses The Divine Wind’s momentum to trip him at the legs with the drop toe hold. He rolls to his side, and locks Akira at the waist from the ground, and then once again rolls sideways, this time rolling towards the head, and curling Akira upwards with the crucifix pin!

ONE!

TWOOO!

THRENOOO!

“Woah-oh” King says. “Gotta love early flash pins.”

Both men quickly get up, and once again try to go with a collar and elbow tie up. Akira decides to mix it up a little this time, and pushes Spike to the side, and slaps on a side headlock. Spike pushes his way to the side, and spins around Kaibatsu’s back, and locks in a side headlock of his own. Akira smoothly maneuvers his hands between his head and Spike’s hands, and puts in an overhand wrist lock, before pushing it all the way to the ground, and taking Spike with it. Spike – the top chain wrestler in the entire promotion – quickly knows how to escape the hold. He lifts his legs up, and pushes forward a little bit, before using the momentum to roll backwards and summersault to his feet. He then spins around, wrenching Akira’s arm, and drops to his knees, flipping Kaibatsu over his back with the firemans carry. Spike quickly backs away to the corner turnbuckle.

“Spike knows what he’s doing out there for sure, Franhis,”

“Franchis…?”

“Well, you know, started with Franchise then decided to go with Francis…you know…it…collar and elbow tie up once again from these two competitors!”

In his own unorthodox way, King correctly calls the collar and elbow tie up. Both men up the intensity and push into each other hard, and then throw their hands down breaking up the hold. The run into each other once more and lock up again, and Akira runs Spike right into the turnbuckle. Referee Byron Dragonson tells Akira to break up the hold. Akira does so, but not before a shove to the chest.

“Why in the hell did Byron Dragonson get assigned this match again? Hasn’t he fucked with this feud enough?” King asks.

“Well, he got a clean break out of them, so why not?” Mak answers.

“That’s not a clean break, Francis! Akira shoved him right in the chest!”

“He love tapped ‘em!”

The two grapplers meet in the center once more, and Akira shoots out his hand offering a Greco-Roman knuckle lock. Spike brings his hand forward, preparing to tie up, but at the last moment kicks Akira’s leg right at the side, and backs off into the turnbuckle.

“Aw, come on, you can’t claim to be the best chain wrestler and then refuse to chain wrestle.” Mak complains.

“This is his match, Francis, he can wrestle it how he wants!”

Akira reaches out in front of Spike and tries to force him into a hold, but Spike knows just how to counter that, and grabs his arm and twists it around his back with the hammerlock. The Divine Wind ducks underneath Jenkins, and puts him in a hammerlock of his own, but bars the arm inbetween, preventing Spike from further ducking underneath. Spike knows what to do still, though, and falls to the ground with the hammerlock, forcing Akira to follow him. He takes his free hand and grabs at Akira’s hair going for something similar to a grounded cravate, but Kaibatsu let’s go with one hand to swat it away. This allows Spike to roll over, and put Akira back in the hammerlock.

“Jenkins is so crisp in the ring. He has a counter and a reversal for every situation and is a master of all wrestling holds it seems like. You can’t tie up with him, because you’re guaranteed to lose that battle. When Spike does lose, it’s normally his temper, not lack of talent, because we know Spike is one of our most gifted athletes.” King compliments.

“I think Jenkins sucks.”

Kaibatsu ducks underneath Spike one more time, locking in his own hammerlock, but Spike runs backwards, thrusting Akira into the turnbuckle. Dragonson points a finger at Jenkins and tells him to break cleanly. Hollywood Spike turns his head around, and eyeballs Akira as he walks forward.

“Did we just see a clean break from Spike friggin Jenkins?” Mak asks.

Akira quickly jogs into the middle of the ring, and stretches his arm across his body. He offers a hand to Spike for a Greco-Roman knuckle lock…and this time Spike accepts it. It is Akira however, who returns the favor and bruises Jenkins’ side with a kick! Akira however does not let go of the hold, he simply uses the kick to gain the upper hand, and wrench Spike’s arm. Jenkins won’t let Akira dominate his chain wrestling though, as he summersaults forward, un wrenching his arm, and then cartwheels back, wrenching Akira’s arm. Kaibatsu refuses to be proven a lesser skilled chain wrestler though, and throws an elbow at Spike’s arm, causing him to let go of the arm, and then spins around, dropping Spike to the mat with a drop toe hold!

“Spike claims to be the best chain wrestler in the SWF, but that might be because Akira doesn’t talk much, King!”

“No, it’s because Spike is a superior chain wrestler than Akira.”

Akira floats up after the drop toe hold and grabs Spike around the chin with his arms, and pulls upwards with a somewhat-relaxed camel clutch. However, all it takes is a shot applause, and Akira can’t help but grin and rear backwards and rip at Jenkins with the camel clutch. Akira forgot to lock Spike’s arms however, so Jenkins simply forces Akira’s hands off of his head. Spike gets up quickly and runs towards the ropes. He bounces off the ropes, and throws a swift kick right at Kaibatsu’s cheek! Akira falls right back to the mat, and Spike comes with him, quickly locking in a grounded side headlock.

Akira slowly rises to his feet, and backs up into the ropes, before shoving The new Straight Edge Sensation off of his head, and into the opposite ropes. Jenkins comes running back and Akira and Spike have the same idea in mind—shoulder block. Unfortunately, neither man is much more than a vanilla midget, so no one goes much of anywhere. Akira throws his hand down in frustration and then hurls the other one right at Hollywood Spike’s chest for a knife edged chop…but Spike ducks underneath, and locks in another side headlock.

“What’d I tell ya Francis? Spike just knows the ins and outs of chain wrestling. Nothing for Akira to be ashamed of.”

Jenkins takes Kaibatsu over in the headlock with a hip toss and holds on for the side headlock. Akira takes a bit of a break on the mat, and forces Dragonson to make a quick count, but Akira quickly learns from his mistake and gets right back up at a count of one. Kaibatsu tries throwing a few forearms at Spike’s back to break up the hold, but once again, Jenkins shows his technical prowess and grapevines the arm. Kaibatsu, while possibly losing the technical battle keeps trying to out-wrestle the New Straight Edge Sensation, and wraps his legs around Spike’s head, escaping the headlock.

“Spike hasn’t proved much just yet, King,”

Jenkins rolls from side to side trying to gain any momentum he can in the headscissors, and finally gains enough to roll over onto his knees. With his head between the Japanese star’s legs, he pulls Akira’s knees apart and pulls his head up. It’s not all safe from there though, as he is met right away with an elbow to the cheek!

*CRAAACCCK*

Spike is a little bit dazed after the shot to the cheek, and Akira grabs him and stuffs him back in the headscissors. Akira smirks as he grabs Jenkins’ arms and butterflies them across his back.

“Look at Akira, butterflying the arm…superb!” Mak declares.

“Oh, come one, Francis, he had to nail Spike in the cheek with an elbow to do it…don’t be an idiot!”

“Spike had to kick Akira in the nose to execute his chain wrestling.”

“It’s not the same.”

Spike wriggles one arm in attempt to get it free from the butterfly lock, but to no avail. Jenkins then tries swinging his arm forward, and that loosens Akira’s grip up, but Spike is still stuck in the hold. Jenkins tries one more time, and Kaibatsu finally lets go. Hollywood Spike then leaps forward atop Akira’s chest with a lateral press.

ONEEE!

TWOOOOOOO!

THREEENOOOOOO!

Spike doesn’t just roll away though, he goes right back to that grounded side headlock, keeping Akira off his dangerous feet. Kaibatsu does get to his feet though, and when he does he tries to plant Spike with a back drop. Spike sees it coming though and flips out of it. Akira turns around right away to face him, and Spike grabs him with the side headlock, and takes him down once again.

“The ball is back in Spike Jenkins’ court, Francis. Spike is going to prove that he can flat out out-wrestle anyone in the SWF, and he’s gonna start with Akira Kaibatsu.” King shills, as Akira fights with the Spike Jenkins headlock.

Kaibatsu rolls to the side, but Spike keeps the momentum going and rolls with him, keeping the side headlock in place. Akira tries to roll again, but once again Jenkins keeps the hold moving. Akira then rolls just a little bit and plants his feet, cradling Spike with a flash pin! Spike rolls back to a normal position before Byron Dragonson can even start the count though. Akira uses Spikes lack of self-awareness at the present time to rush back up to his feet, and push the headlock into the ropes. He doesn’t throw him off his head like he did before though, instead he just lets Dragonson count to five. One…two….three…four…and Spike breaks up the hold…and then Akira runs his shoulder right into his gut!

“Another questionable break from Akira!” King shouts. “Mak, I understand wanting to win this match, but c’mon, play to win, don’t cheat to win!”

“King that doesn’t make any sense. I half heartedly agree with you, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

Akira follows up right away, to the tune of one boo somewhere in the 32nd row or somewhere, but cheers mostly, despite the cheating. He throws Spike down with a snapmare, and then jumps to the ground, locking him in a reverse chinlock. Spike throws his elbows towards Akira’s gut, and spins outwards, grabbing Kaibatu’s head in the process and clamping a front facelock. Spike spins a little bit, and alters his hold, and changes it up to a cravat – the Spike Jenkins specialty – and brings both Akira and himself to their feet. Jenkins then spins around, and puts Akira in a side headlock. Another spin, grabbing the arm this time, and locks in a hammerlock. One more rotation, and he grabs Akira’s head in a side headlock from the otherside, and takes him down with a hip toss one more time, continuing to hold on to the headlock.

“BEST CHAIN WRESTLER IN THE WOOOORRRLLLLD!” Spike screams at the Torontonian crowd.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Akira works his way to his feet in the headlock, and pushes towards the turnbuckle. Spike forces the hold back into the center of the ring, but Kaibatsu spins around and uses Jenkins’ own momentum against him to break the hold in the corner. Spike…let’s go….veryyyyy…slowlyyy….

*SLAAAPPP*

“Akira just cheap shotted Spike again!” The suicide king barks.

“Well with all the technical wrestling, Akira needed to mix it up a bit…besides, any time there’s a space, it’s a clean break, King!”

“That’s not a fucking clean break, Francis.”

“Technically…”

Akira tosses Spike one of his signature European Uppercuts right before whipping him across the ring into the other turnbuckle. Spike lifts his leg up and blocks himself from hitting the turnbuckle, and spins away. Akira, who was running along, tries a clothesline on the turnbuckle, but turns around when he sees Spike no longer there. Jenkins grabs his head along his side, and takes him down once again.

“WE HATE HEADLOCKS!” *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*

“This really is Bizzaro land…headlocks are the corner stone of mat wrestling. Why are we holding Genesis here again?” King quips.

“Seriously, King. Did you see outside? That ladder that leads to nothing? Right on the side of the building?”

Kaibatsu once again gets up from the headlock and tries to escape from the standing position. He runs towards the turnbuckle, trying that strategy once more, but Spike climbs up the turnbuckle, spins around, and flips Akira with a headlock takedown, putting The Divine Wind right back where he started. Kaibatsu gets right back up though, determined to get out of this headlock. Kaibatsu goes with a brand new strategy this time, and starts tossing elbows into Jenkins’ gut. He then lifts him up by the side, and drops him on his back for a back suplex.

…but Spike is still holding on!

“Spike is so awesome,” King smiles.

Akira goes to an old standby next; he rises to his feet in the headlock once more, and then backs up into the rope. He shoves Jenkins off his head, and into the rope. Spike hits the rope hard, and comes running back with a shoulder block…that doesn’t seem to affect Akira much!

“The hell’s he doing, Francis?”

“Looks like Akira’s giving Spike the ropes. He’s challenging him to shoulder block him again.”

And Akira is doing just that, as Spike runs to the ropes, and once again tries a shoulder block, once again to no avail. Akira makes a try again motion, and Spike does try again indeed. The result is just the same though. Akira lets him go one more time, and we know this because he’s pointing straight up with his index finger. Spike hops up and down trying to get a full head of steam. He starts to run towards the ropes…and then comes roaring right back with a cheap shot!

…that Akita promptly ducks!

*SLAP*

“AKIRA JUST BITCH SLAPPED SPIKE!”

YOU GOT BITCH SLAPPED! **CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP**

Akira wastes no time though, despite everyone’s raucous reaction. He whips Spike into the ropes and catches him by the arm on the way back, flipping him forward for the arm drag. Spike kips up, kicking Akira in the chest on the way. The Divine Wind runs at Spike quickly but Spike counters with an arm drag of his own. Kaibatsu tries to get up quickly, but as soon as he reaches his feet, The New Straight Edge Sensation sweeps him at his feet, and drops an elbow…an elbow Akira rolls out of the way of. Akira rolls backwards onto his feet, and kicks upwards aimed at Spike’s bent over forehead, but Jenkins rolls out of the way, and behind Akira, rolling him up with a school boy!

ONEEEEE!

TWOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEE-NOPE!

The scrambling Kaibatsu rolls out towards his turnbuckle, in attempt to slow the match down. They meet in the center of the ring, and clasp hands in the Greco-Roman knuckle lock. Spike slides over, and locks his arms around Kaibatsu’s waist for the rear waist lock, and lifts him up before dropping him on his stomach amateur style. Spike keeps his hands around Akira’s waist on the ground, continuing to apply pressure at all times.

“See that, Mak? Akira knew he had to stay away from Spike’s chain wrestling,” King points out.

“Meh.”

Spike spins it around, and locks his arms around the face of Kaibatsu putting the front facelock in. The Divine Wind pushes Jenkins’ arms upwards and spins him as he grabs him around the waist and grounds Spike. Spike then flips Akira around, and tries to float over his back and apply the hammerlock, but he over shoots it, and Akira takes advantage by tilting and grabbing his head for another front facelock.

“BIG MISTAKE BY SPIKE” Mak points out. “See that, King? See it? Huh? Greatest chain wrestler in the world?”

Spike once again lifts Akira up off him and tries to spin him around to gain control, but all he does is spin Akira and keep him in the same place, so Akira simply grabs Jenkins and rolls over, now mounted on top of him. Akira paintbrushes the back of Spike’s head, and then gets off him.

YEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!

“Do my ears deceive me, Mak Francis? Did a paintbrush to the back of the head just get a round of applause?”

They meet in the center of the ring once again, and lock up at the hands for the knuckle lock. Akira pushes into Spike, but Jenkins does the same and neither man moves anywhere. Akira tries to get lower, but Spike follows him and they end up doing the same thing from a crouched position. They both slowly make their way back up to a normal standing position…and then Akira headbutts Spike!

“Akira just headbutted Spike Jenkins…”

“What else is he gonna use?”

The headbutt, silly as it may be, unlocked the grip, and allowed Akira to hit one of his European Uppercuts, which sends Spike all the way into the ropes! Akira then begins a battery of strikes, nailing Jenkins in every body part imaginable, open slaps and over hand strikes, you name it. Jenkins covers his head up with his arms trying to block any shots forehead. Kaibatsu then hurls one big clothesline at Jenkins, but he does so just a tad to slow, and Jenkins ducks under it…and begins to fire away at Akira! Jenkins nails Akira with three straight jabs to the ear and then runs at the ropes quickly. He bounces back and holds his hands out for the shotei, but Kaibatsu ducks underneath and kicks him right in the head!

“This is what Akira needs to be doing,” King says. “If he wants to beat Spike, and it’s very possible that he CAN’T, he needs to strike him, because he damn sure can’t out wrestle him.”

“Oh shut up, King. Akira is one of our top chain wrestlers.”

Spike rolls out of the ring, and falls to the ground, and rests near the apron of the ring, while Akira takes a seat in one of the turnbuckles. Spike quickly climbs back into the ring, and charges towards The Divine Wind, but Akira sees it coming a mile away and steps away before Spike even bothers trying to attack him; The circle each other in the center of the ring instead. Spike reaches out for a Greco-Roman knuckle lock, but Akira hurls his leg out, causing Spike to back away and not lock up properly.

“What Akira’s doing right now is perfect,” King compliments. “Successful in staying away from Jenkins’ chain wrestling, and doing so with his strikes.”

Akira charges towards Hollywood Spike and lunges with a forearm, but Spike ducks underneath. He doesn’t pull for a strike right away, instead he boxes with Akira, hopping up and down with his fists up. Akira then shrugs, making a face that practically screams “ok, we’ll have it your way” and he reaches his arm out for a knuckle lock. Jenkins ties up, and right away his hands are twisted upside down by The Divine Wind.

“It’s like a game of mercy, King. Ever play that when you were a little kid, King? Mercy?”

Spike drops down to the ground, and slides his feet in between the arms. He wraps his legs around the head of Akira…but his shoulders are down! ONEE NOO!, Spike corrects his mistake quickly and gets his shoulder up off the mat. Spike then slides his feet beneath Akira’s head, and places them more towards his chest. Akira, thinking quickly, pulls him upwards and tries to monkey flip him, but Spike won’t let go of Kaibatsu’s hands and comes right back down. He falls on his back, and rolls backwards, and tosses Kaibatsu over him for a monkey flip.

…but Akira still has the Greco-roman knuckle lock perfectly in tact. So Spike rolls back towards the ground, and spins to his left. He picks up his feet, and then shoves them right off his hand, releasing the knuckle lock finally. Akira falls backwards, and then is immediately mauled by Spike, who nails him in the back of the head with a running kick. Spike picks up Kaibatsu rather quickly and grabs his arm right away. He takes a light punch at it before tossing it over his shoulder with an arm drag. Spike gets a pin in.

ONEEE!

TWOOOO!

THRENENNO!

Spike nearly got that three count, so it’s a good thing he had something to throw against the mat in frustration. Like Akira’s arm.

Spike then runs towards the ropes slowly, and leaps up, dropkicking his opponent in the back of the head. Hollywood Spike picks up his tattered foe, and sends him right into the turnbuckle. He tosses a chop right at his chest, and the crowd woo’s along. He tries another one, but Kaibatsu ducks underneath, and Spike is stuck in the turnbuckle now, Akira throws a chop at Spike now, and the crowd woo’s along just as they did for Spike. He throws another chop, but Spike ducks underneath this time! Instead of tossing another knife edge chop however, Spike jumps up and nails Akira in the chest with a dropkick! Kaibatsu bounces off the turnbuckle and wanders into the middle of the ring. Spike grabs his arm and wraps it around his back with the hammerlock before dropping right to the ground.

“Man…this entire show is just…wow” Mak says.

“And we’re, what, half way through the card?”

Akira tries to get up from the hammerlock, and despite Spike’s efforts, he is successful. Spike then wrenches the arm around, turning it into an arm bar. Akira tries to get out of the arm bar by nailing Spike in the cheek with a forearm, which Spike ducks underneath, only further wrenching Akira’s arm. Spike throws his shoulder into Akira’s, then spins his arm around one more time. Spike then backs up onto a turnbuckle, and begins to walk on the ropes. Dragonson starts a 5 count, but Spike jumps off before he can even make it to two. He spreads his legs out and drops them right on Akira’s arm. Akira grabs his arm in pain, as Spike wraps his arms around Kaibatsu’s head with the rear chin lock.

Akira throws his elbows backwards, right into Jenkins’ gut, and then he gets up right at his feet. He runs towards the ropes, bounces back, and prepares to hit Spike with a short armed clothesline, but Hollywood Spike catches him with an arm drag. He doesn’t let go of the arm, either. He keeps a hold of it, and bars it on the ground.

“These guys are pacing themselves for a loooong match, King. If they don’t start going insane, it could be a while.”

Akira manages to get to his feet, as he has done so well so far in the match, and attempts to toss Spike over his shoulder. He is successful, but Spike hangs on, and keeps the arm bar right where it is. After a few more seconds in the hold, Spike let’s go…and then dropkicks the arm right away!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Spike seems to be working over that arm,” Mak points out. “If you take away that arm, you take away Shadows Over Hell.”

“And if you take away the legs, you take away a lot of Kaibatsu’s lesser offense. Akira needs to stay away from limb work in the future. I think he’ll lose this match because of it.”

“Don’t forget Akira’s the master of the flash pin, King.”

“The way these guys are going, I highly doubt the match will end in a flash pin, Francis,”

Spike picks up the former cruiserweight champion and predictably wrenches the arm. Akira’s had enough of it though, and he nails Jenkins right in the cheek with a forearm. Spike tries to ignore the pain, and wrenches the arm around once again, but Akira socks him once again. Spike screams as he wrenches Akira’s arm one more time. Akira spins underneath the arm, un-wrenching it, and then nails Spike right in the nose, sending him to the ground!

“…and Akira,” King says, “needs to do a hell of a lot more of that.”

Spike wobbles to his feet, and tries to throw a punch, but it’s not a very effective one, as Spike is on dream street. Akira locks him in a cravat and tosses him for the snapmare, before knife edge chopping the New Straight Edge Sensation’s back. Akira then tries to follow up with a kick to the chest, but Spike grabs the kick, and twists Akira’s foot around sending him to the ground. Spike slides up his fallen opponents body, and wraps his arms around his head, taking control once again with a grounded headlock.

“The ball is right back in Spike’s court,” King says.

Mak simply sighs.

Akira forces Spike to his feet once again, and backs up into the ropes. He tosses Spike off of his head and into the other ropes. Jenkins bounces back, and baseball slides through Akira’s legs. He gets up, and takes Kaibatsu’s arm and wraps it around his back for a hammerlock. He then slides his free hand up Kaibatsu’s back, grabs his head, and then uses the other one to complete the side headlock.

“Right back to where we started,” Mak says.

Akira runs with Spike in the side headlock, and tries to shove him through the ropes, but Spike won’t let go, so Akira comes with him! Both men fall to the floor and still Spike refuses to let go of the side headlock! Akira’s had enough of the headlocks though, and he lifts up Spike, and drops him on the hard floor with a back suplex!

YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

“Back suplex on the floor!” Mak shouts. “We’re pickin’ it up now!”

FOOOUUUR

FIIIVEEE!

It’s only a five count, but Akira knows he may not be in control by a count of 20, and shoves Spike into the ring. He makes a quick cover, hooking no legs.

ONE!

TWOOO!

NOOO!

Akira gets right back up to his feet, and quickly shoves Spike up to a seated position. He tosses a knife edge chop at his back, and then follows it up right away with a kick to the chest, which Spike promptly catches. Akira’s learned from his mistakes though, and he hops over Spike’s head with his free foot, and then kicks Spike in the back of the skull! Kaibatsu then runs to the ropes, bounces back, jumps up into the air and drops a big knee onto Spike’s head!!!

YEEEAAAAHHHHHHH!

“Akira’s learning from his mistakes out there,” King compliments.

“That’s really how he’s gotten as far as he has,” Mak says, “He’d make a mistake in one match, and then fix it the next one. What he’s doing now is fixing them quicker.”

Spike crawls over to his corner, and uses the ropes to get himself to his feet. Akira takes that as an opportunity to start blowing Spike away with strikes! Spike’s neck snaps back with European Uppercuts, and his chest turns beet red with knife edged chops. Akira then sweeps his feet, sending him onto his ass in the turnbuckle. Kaibtsu then thrusts his boot into the face of Spike. He then runs backwards towards the ropes, bounces back, and raises his foot up near Spike’s face, but The New Straight Edge Sensation rolls out of the way.

“Looks like Akira was going for that face wash maneuver that we’ve seen MANSON utilize recently,” Mak says. “It’s not out of Akira’s character to borrow techniques of other SWF wrestlers,”

“It’s also not out of Spike’s character to have more than Akira scouted,” King notes. “He knew to roll out of the way of that.”

Spike runs towards The Divine Wind and plasters him with a huge elbow to the chin. He then tosses him over to the corner, and runs along with him, and nails him with another elbow in the corner, sending Akira straight to his ass! Spike then rubs Kaibatsu’s face with the boot, and runs back towards the ropes. He bounces back and drives his boot into Akira’s face for the face wash!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“I guess Spike wanted to show Akira how a face was is really done,” King laughs.

Spike drapes Akira over to the center of the ring, and lays over him as he hooks a leg.

ONEEEEEE!

TWOOO!

THREENOO!

“Not enough damage for a pin yet, King,”

“Nope. These two have been going at it for about 15 minutes now, and still neither one is showing any signs of fatigue. They’re both tried, of course, but both look like they could go for another 20, you know?”

“These two do have a track record of being extremely durable, and being able to go a bit longer,”

“Well, Akira goes pretty short sometimes. Like his match against Scott Rageheart. That one ended quickly,”

Spike flips his hair out of his eyes, and Irish whips the Japanese star into the corner. Spike steps outside to the apron, and climbs the turnbuckle behind Kaibatsu. He grabs Akira by the hair, and places his knee firmly behind his head. He drops down to the ground, planting Akira’s face into the canvas.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Calf branding!” Mak shouts. “Cover!!”

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

NOOO! Akira kicks out!

“Akira gets his shoulder off the mat at the last second there, King! I’d be worried about your ‘another 30 minutes’ theory, if I were you.” The Franchise laughs.

Jenkins picks up Akira by the trunks, and throws a nasty forearm to the cheek. Spike then goes back to that arm he was working on earlier, and wrenches it. He tosses his foot backwards at Akira’s midsection, but Akira catches the leg with his free hand! He sweeps Spike’s other leg with his hand, sending him to the ground. He then spins around with the leg, locking in a boston crab…and then he turns around and grabs Jenkins’ head, locking in the STF!!

“Akira’s got the STF locked in!” Mak screams. “Might not be much longer for The New Straight Edge Sensation!”

Akira, ever the innovator, curls Spike’s head up, and grabs at his chin with his forearm, turning the STF into something completely un-namable. Akira then messes with his grip, and turns around a bit, and turns the hold into a reverse sickle hold!

“Oh my god, what the hell is Akira doing with this hold, Mak?!” King says. “First we had an STF, then we had a god-knows-what, and now we’ve got this…upside down Muta lock thing! What the hell?!”

Spike screams in pain as he tosses an elbow at the back of Akira’s head, unlocking the hold. Akira gets up almost right away though, and he lifts Spike by the hair with him. He whips Jenkins into the corner, and Spike runs up the turnbuckle. He comes jumping off backwards, twisting in mid air, sprawling for a crossbody!

…which he misses, by far, because Kaibatsu walked out of the way.

YEEEAAAAAAHHHH!

“That stings,” Francis laugs.

“This is the first real big stint of offense Akira has had. He was on and off earlier, but now he’s really moving along, reversing Spike’s maneuvers. Jenkins has gotta some back with something or Akira’s gonna take the match soon,”

“To think…this match is undercard. Genesis VII is already ranking pretty high up there on our list of greatest shows ever!”

“Hey, the rest of the show could suck, Mak,”

“Oh King, you’re just ants at a picnic,”

“I’m ants at a picnic? Isn’t that a family guy line, Mak?”

Akira picks up The New Straight Edge Sensation by the hair, and wraps his arms around his waist with his head at the side. He lifts Spike as if going for another back suplex, but this time drops him down, planting his back on an extended knee.

“BACKBREAKER!” The Franchise shouts.

Akira chooses not to go for a cover however, Instead he lifts up Spike by the hair once again, and locks in a front facelock. He then lifts up Spike and holds him vertically for the suplex…and keeps him there. Kaibatsu strolls around the ring for as long as he can, as the Torontonian crowd counts the seconds.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

….and TEN!

Right at the count of ten, Akira drops straight down, dropping Spike Jenkins on his head for the delayed brainbuster, a move we haven’t seen from Akira Kaibatsu since his debut at Genesis VI.

“Akira’s using moves that Spike probably hasn’t scouted,” Mak notices. “These two have had three matches, all were fun to watch. But because they know each other so well, Akira needs to branch out a little bit.”

“It’s a good idea in principle, but in the end the better professional wrestler will win,”

“Maybe the better professional wrestler is the one who comes up with ideas like that,” Mak says.

Akira quickly rolls Jenkins over and makes a quick cover.

ONE!

TWOO!

THRENOO!

“The stalling brainbuster’s not enough to put Spike Jenkins away, “ Mak says.

After the kickout, Spike scurries into the corner, back away from The Divine Wind. Akira walks after him but The New Straight Edge Sensation kicks wildly at Kaibatsu. Akira finally steps off for a second, and then quickly jumps back on Spike after he calmed down for a second. Akira lifts Spike by the hair….and then Spike comes right back with a knife edge chop!

“That was the weirdest variation at playing possum I’ve ever seen, Mak”

Spike throws another knife edge chop at Akira, and then runs back at the ropes. He bounces forwards, and Akira ducks trying to sweep Jenkins’ legs, but The King of Cambodia jumps over him, and hits the other ropes. He bounces back and nails Akira in the face with a Dangerous Wizard!!

“DANGEROUS WIZAARRRDD!” King calls, excitedly.

“But Spike isn’t going for a cover!” Mak notices. “Both men are lying on the ground in pain and fatigue,”

Both men very slowly rise to their feet, but they do so at the same time. Akira throws a European Uppercut at Jenkins, and Spike comes right back with a knife edged chop. Akira throws another European Uppercut, and before Spike can retaliate he throws another one, sending Jenkins to the ground. Akira picks up The New Straight Edge Sensation at the feet, and tries to flip him over for a Boston Crab.

“Akira’s going for a Boston Crab…that’s another move we haven’t really seen from him, but we know is effective. Spike could be in a lot of trouble if Akira manages to turn him over!” Mak shouts.

And Akira does just that. He flips him over, locking Spike in the Boston Crab. With his back arched back and his spine nearly ripping in half, the urge to give up is only matched by the noise created by the Torontonian crowd.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

FUCK EM UP AKIRA, FUCK EM UP! FUCK EM UP AKIRA, FUCK EM UP!

TAP! TAP! TAP!

Spike pushes his back up, and tries to power out of it, but Akira has a plan to make sure that doesn’t happen. Akira lifts up Spike’s legs and crosses his arms over them switching it to an elevated Boston Crab.

“Elevated crab! Spike’s gotta get to the ropes now!” King says. “Crawl, Spike, crawl!”

“There’s not much Spike can do here!” Mak says.

Spike’s screams echo throughout the Rogers Centre, as he holds out his hand. He screams and he screams, and he whirls his hand up. And…

…

….

…

TAAAAA-REACHES THE ROPE!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Spike reaches the rope on one huge lunge!” King shouts. “This match was half an inch from being over!”

Akira wipes sweat from his eyes, and lifts up Spike Jenkins by the hair. Akira then whips his opponent into the corner and begins to throw quick, frequent forearms at Spike’s gut. Akira then takes Spike by the arm and whips him into the opposite corner with so much strength, Akira himself falls stomach first into the mat. Spike hits the corner hard and falls immediately.

YEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

“Akira whips Spike into the corner with a ton of velocity! Spike’s back has gotta be in some pain after that one!” Mak says.

Akira grabs Spike by the hair from his knees, and begins driving his shin into The New Straight Edge Sensation’s forehead. Sweat flying off of Spike in every direction after the knees. Spike screams, and stands right up, before yelling right at Akira, and wiping the smile off his face with an open handed slap! Akira then slaps him right back! Spike counters this with a brutal forearm! Kaibatsu does the same! The two exchange forearms and elbows until Akira manages to salvage enough time to set up for his patented European Uppercut, which sends Spike straight to the floor! Cover!!

ONEEEEEE!

TWOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEENOOO!

“That European Uppercut couldn’t seal the deal for Akira,” Mak says,

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a strike to the jaw to win a match, Francis!”

Akira picks up Spike by the hair once again, throws a quick forearm at his cheek. He then drives Jenkins into the opposite corner, and once again Spike falls to the ground.

“This is the type of match Akira needs to wrestle to win,” King reasons. “Earlier on it was a Spike Jenkins match, now it’s an Akira Kaibatsu match. Kaibatsu’s definitely got the upper hand in a style like this,”

“I don’t know about that, King. Both guys are well rounded, and pretty versatile,”

Spike reaches his knees, but doesn’t get much farther than that, as Akira kicks Jenkins square in the chest. Kaibatsu then turns and nails Spike in the back with a kick, causing him to arch his back. The Divine Wind then un-archs it by tossing one more kick to the chest. The kick sends Spike into the turnbuckle. Akira then gets up, and rubs his boot into Spike’s face, before running back to the turnbuckle, bouncing back and nailing Spike Jenkins in the cheek with a face wash!

“There’s that running face wash we saw from both guys earlier. Spike hit it then, but Akira couldn’t, Now it’s Spike feeling the effects of that kick.” Mak says,

“That move never ever looks like it’s easy to take,”

Spike crawls and mopes around to get to his feet. Akira throws a forearm at Jenkins, but Spike somehow manages to find the energy to duck underneath it, and then kick The Divine Wind right in the gut with his toe. Akira’s still in complete control though, and he shows it here…

*CEEEEERRRRRRAAAAACCCCCK*

With a huge elbow to the nose of Spike Jenkins! Blood flies from the New Straight Edge Sensation as he groggily walks around the ring trying to figure out what the hell just happened!

“Oh my god! Spike’s nose could be broken after that elbow!” Mak shouts.

“That elbow looked fucking mean!” King says. “That’s gonna put Akira at an advantage if this match goes much longer. Spike’s gonna get tired a lot quicker.”

Spike finally hits the ground after the vicious elbow. Akira makes something of a cover, though he’s really just pressing his arms against Spike’s chest.

ONEEEE!

TWOOOOO!

THREEENOO!

“C’mon, Akira, you’re gonna need to make more effort than that if you wanna put Spike away at Genesis.” King warns.

Spike tries to sit up and get moving again, but The Divine Wind kicks him in the back, regaining control of him once again. He picks up The New Straight Edge Sensation by the hair, and throws more forearms and elbows into his gut forcing him into the turnbuckle. Akira shoves his elbow into Spike’s face, and then follows it up with another one of his European Uppercuts. Kaibatsu then whips Spike into the other corner, and follows after him with an elbow…but Jenkins lifts his leg up and nails Kaibatsu in the face! Spike lifts himself up onto the second rope, and then leaps off, wrapping his legs around Kaibatsu’s head, spinning off for a diving hurricanrana!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“This crowd is solidly behind “The Divine Wind” Akira Kaibatsu!”

“I don’t know if they’re gonna walk out of Genesis with a smile on their face then…that hurricanrana was brutal!”

The impact from the hurricanrana sends Akira outside to the floor, but Spike doesn’t want to slow the action down like Akira does. Spike hits the opposite ropes and bounces back. He picks up speed, and then dives through the middle ropes for a tope con hilo nailing Kaibatus with his elbow!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Spike Jenkins is cruising out there! Fast paced action in this cruiserweight match!” Mak shills.

“This match is getting out of control! They’ve been going nonstop for a half an hour now!”

Spike picks up his fallen foe, and drags him over to a chair sitting in the corner, by the home dugout. He sits him down in the chair, and throws a knife edge chop at him. He then backs up towards the other side of the barricade. Spike then runs back towards Akira, and raises his foot up towards him, nailing him in the cheek with a yakuza kick on the outside!

“YAKUZA KICK FROM JENKINS!” King shouts, “Akira’s gonna be feeling that one next week!”

FIVEEE

SIIXXX

SEEVEEENN

Spike hears the cries of the referee but ignores them, as he does to most referees. The New Straight Edge Sensation drags Akira over to the other corner, and drops him down in that chair, knocking a small camera man out of the way. He nails Akira in the face with a clubbing forearm, before backing up once again. Spike runs forward and nails Akira again with the yakuza kick!

BOOOOOOOOOOO!

“A-KIR-A! A-KIR-A!”

“The crowd in Toronto is trying to get behind Akira and spark a comeback…otherwise it looks like Spike’s gonna take this one,”

NINEE

TEN

ELEVENNNN

“Spike Jenkins has completely turned this match around…three minutes ago it was Jenkins in need of the come back! Now Akira’s on life support!”

Spike climbs up the ring apron, and begins to taunt the Torontonian crowd. Akira slowly but surely rises to his feet, and when he does, Spike has a surprise waiting for him, as he jumps off the apron, and goes for a hurricanrana…but Akira catches him, spins him around, and drives him back first into the guard rail!!

YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

“Akira once again manages to turn the match around! He’s gotta capitalize on this!”

Akira capitalizes indeed. He picks up The New Straight Edge Sensation by the hair, and throws elbow after elbow into his already broken nose, splattering blood almost onto the fans in the front row. Akira then whips Jenkins into the ring, and follows right after him beating a count of 15.

“Akira is livid! This match is going to be over soon!” Mak shouts.

Akira grunts as he steps over to the turnbuckle, and climbs up it. He leaps off, as the Kodak cameras flash in the crowd, tilting backwards in mid air, planting his back right into the chest of Jenkins.

YEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

“SENTON BOMB! SENTON BOMB!” Mak shouts.

“NO! NO! SHIIIIT!” King curses, as Akira makes a cover!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

NO! NO! SPIKE GETS HIS FOOT ON THE ROPE!

“OH MY GOD, YES!” King shouts. “YES!”

Akira’s had quite enough though. He picks up Spike once again by his dyed blonde hair, and locks him in a cravate. He runs towards the turnbuckle, and steps up them. He backflips off it, and tries to hit Spike with the Divine Wind, but Spike flips him backwards off of him! Akira, being the nimble guy he is, however, lands on his feet. He isn’t on his feet for very long though, as Spike jumps up, twists backwards and nails Akira in the head with a Pelè kick! Akira is stunned for a moment, and stutters around the ring! Spike grabs him by the waist, and flips him backwards, dropping him on his head for a German Suplex pin!

“YES! YES! DROPS HIM ON HIS HEAAAADDD!”

ONEEEEEEEEE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

NOOOOOOOOO! AKIRA ROLLS THE SHOULDER UP!

“WHAT THE HELL?! NO WAY!!” King shouts.

Spike must be thinking the same thing King is, because when he picks up Akira, he butterflies the arms, and lifts him up over his head.

“Oh shit, King”

“Oh shit, Mak”

“HE’S GOING FOR BREAKING EDGE!” The team calls in unison

` Akira doesn’t want to let Spike break his neck though. He wriggles around atop Spike’s shoulders, and breaks one of his arms free. Spike grabs it right back though, and struggles to get Akira balanced so he can hit the maneuver. Akira won’t let him do that though, and twists around, and then wraps his legs around Spike’s torso. He flips backwards, and rolls Spike up with a Japanese rolling clutch pin!!!

“JAPANESE ROLLING CLUTCH PIN!”

ONEEEEE!

TWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

“YES!” Mak shouts. “Akira has bested Spike Jenkins!”

“Here is your winner, and #1 contender to the cruiserweight championship…The Divine Wind…AKIRRAAAA KAAAIIIBAATSUUUUUUUU!”

“That was a fucking doozy, King. The official time is 41 minutes and 12 seconds.”

“You know, sometimes when you’re following up Danny Williams vs someone who’s identity is hidden to the fans…well you have trouble looking good…this match didn’t do that at all. Genesis VII is shaping up to be a CLASSIC!”

And the classic fades to the next segment.

Ace309 · September 20, 2006

Just for posterity. It's hard to argue with a loss to Stephens, and I strongly advise everyone to read his match. I just hope I made it difficult.

===

DING DING!!!!

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall.” Already, the crowd is beginning to roar. “It is TITLE FOR TITLE... it is for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship... it is for the SWF World Championship... and it is YOUR MAIN EVENT!”

The Toronto crowd cheers, the sounds reverberating throughout the arena. The noise is deafening.

“And now, to introduce the first competitor, James Matheson!”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” shouts the abrasive manager as he walks through the velvet curtain at right field, “tonight, you’re going to witness history. Not only are you about to see the first time that one man is going to top both weight divisions in the SWF simultaneously, but you’re going to see the current World Champion suffer a defeat more humiliating than ever before! Right in the center of the ring, you’re going to see him on his back... and making the pin, you’re going to see this man, the NEXT SWF Heavyweight Champion of the World... TOM FLESHER!!!!”

With that, the area around the right field entrance light up. There, the string section of Toronto Philharmonia sit. Quietly, they begin to play... one long chord. After a moment, they ease into another, and then another. The tension builds, until finally...

BOOM!

An explosion of blue smoke and pyro light up the Rogers Centre at Sky Dome, and Toronto Philharmonia hits the percussive opening riff of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir!” They play louder with every passing moment, augmenting the already deafening entrance music that heralds the arrival of the SWF’s top cruiserweight competitor! As the smoke clears, Tom Flesher stands in a gold warm-up suit, a white towel over his head. Behind him, James Matheson holds the Cruiserweight Championship belt in his arms. Even tonight, Flesher doesn’t care about the belt.

He walks to the ring slowly, his face hidden by the towel. The fans boo... most of them, anyway. Many others are just thrilled to be witnessing the beginning of the main event of Genesis, not only the culmination of a feud for the World Championship, but the culmination of an entire year of professional wrestling.

The walk to the ring is long, but Tom Flesher paces it quickly. James Matheson follows three steps behind, with Flesher’s body obscuring the Cruiserweight Championship belt on all but the most set-up of the camera angles. Finally, as he enters the ring, Matheson holds the ropes open for him. Flesher steps into the corner, removing the towel from his head and revealing his icy blue stare to the world. As he drapes the towel over the cornerpost, Matheson hands the Cruiserweight belt to senior official Eddy Long.

“This is the start of something big,” says the Suicide King, as Flesher slowly strips off his warmup jacket, and then the track pants. Matheson stands next to him, folding the suit neatly, doing everything he can to allow Flesher to focus on the match. “Tom’s brought out the big guns tonight. He’s wearing the gold warmup suit, he’s got the gold panels on his singlet, and it looks like he’s even wearing mixed martial arts gloves!”

“What kind of benefit is that going to give him?” Mak asks rhetorically. “Against a guy like Toxxic, adding equipment or leaving some at home isn’t going to make the difference in a match.”

“They’re going to help Flesher keep his palm strikes solid,” says King, “and the padding on the knuckles isn’t going to hurt his fighting, since, as we all know, he’d never deign to throw a punch. That’d be against the rules, Mak.”

Francis rolls his eyes. Eddy Long comes over, carrying the Cruiserweight belt with him. He drops to one knee. As Flesher stares off into space, focusing only on the match, Long runs his hands over the kickpads that he wears on his shins, making sure he’s not hiding anything in them. After checking each kickpad, Long stands up and takes Flesher’s hands, checking each glove for illegal objects. He finds nothing.

Finally, as Flesher stays in the corner, his music fades. The lights come back on, and for a moment, the fans are so overtaken by their energy that they can’t help but cheer. They almost drown out Funyon’s announcement...

“And his opponent....”

Every single light in the arena hits full, and the Smarktron whites out. For a few long moments there is silence once more, until a a crowd chant suddenly blasts over the speakers:

"COME AND ‘AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!"

This fades into the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire, and as the giant oval Smarktron starts to fade to black, jagged white letters flash up one after another to form a familiar phrase:

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’

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

*BOOOM!*

-explosion of red pyro all along the soundstage! As the drums kick in Stephens strides through the smoke and remaining sparks, head down with his hair hiding his eyes and with his black trenchcoat tied shut. After waiting a few moments, he tears it open, showing the World Championship and Tag Team Championship belts strapped one over the other around his waist! The fans go crazy, flashbulbs pop, and the crowd falls into its familiar chant...

“TOXXXX-IC.... TOXXXX-IC...”

Stephens strides to the ring, his eyes on Flesher. Tom Flesher, for his part, stares through him, focused entirely on visualizing the match. Finally, as he reaches the bottom of the ramp, Michael crosses his arms briefly in the straight-edge ‘X’, then throws them wide, palms flat to the floor.

*bap-bap*

*BOOOM!*

More red pyro erupts, this time from the ring posts, and Stephens rolls into the ring under the bottom rope. He shakes his trench coat off, then removes his soccer jersey and throws it to the crowd. Two lively Canadian girls, both wearing heavy eyeliner, fight over it, almost tearing it in half.

‘I never thought this could be me,

I guess you never do until it’s happening to you

Like all the fun turns into shame

And all the “could-have-beens” rearrange…’

As he stands in the ring, he pauses. “Rookie” fades out, and for a moment, there’s a quiet spot. Then...

HEY! HO! LET’S GO!

The crowd bursts into cheers once more as the Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” blares over the speakers!

“Oh, this is great,” says King, as Amy Stephens comes sprinting out of the left field locker room. Toxxic grins his familiar lopsided grin as his sister runs to ringside, her familiar can of Stella Artois replaced with local favorite Alexander Keith’s India Pale Ale! The fans cheer her on, knowing that she’ll be able to keep James Matheson at bay.

“You’re damn right it’s great,” Mak beams, “because Amy Stephens isn’t afraid of James Matheson. She’s not going to let him get away with anything. This one’s gonna be won and lost in the ring where it belongs, not by the little weasel on the outside!”

“Blitzkrieg Bop” fades out, and Michael unstraps his belts. He hands the Tag Team belt to Amy, and then, slowly, the World Championship to Eddy Long. Long shows him the Cruiserweight Championship belt, and Stephens nods soberly. Long then walks both belts over to Flesher, showing him the World Championship belt. Flesher nods, almost as an afterthought. Both men are focused on each other, and they want to be in the center of the ring.

Eddy Long holds both belts in the air, then hands them to a ring attendant. Finally, in a moment the world has been waiting for, he calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!

“And this one’s underway,” says the Suicide King, as Tom Flesher and Michael Stephens meet in the center of the ring. The Toronto crowd, having cheered wildly up to this point, goes silent. One set of blue eyes meets another as two champions square off, ready to destroy each other and themselves in pursuit of yet another championship.

The tension builds as seconds pass by, feeling like hours. James Matheson stands at ringside, his briefcase laying on the apron, any encouragement useless until the match is a bit older. Even Amy Stephens seems to grasp that now is not a time to shout obscenities at her brother or his opponent.

Flesher’s fists clench and unclench as he slowly drops into a defensive amateur-style stance, certain that early aggression isn’t going to win him the match. Stephens stays mostly straight, angling his body slightly to discourage Flesher’s blast double leg takedown.

“These two are masters of their trade,” says the Suicide King. “You look at the things they have in their arsenal, the Ego Buster, the Caffeine Bomb, the Boilermaker, Sunny In England, and you know that anything these guys throw at each other can end the match at any time. They’re two of the most dangerous athletes in professional combat sports today, and they know it.”

“I gotta disagree on one thing, King,” says Francis. “You’ve got a guy who’s built a career out of fighting without higher brain function, and a guy who moves faster than a greased Michael Vick on meth. This one isn’t gonna be about who hits the big move, it’s gonna be about who keeps himself from taking it.”

“I don’t know, Mak. Tom’s got to have an extra 10 pounds on him, thanks to that early official weigh-in. He’s going to be hitting even harder than usual, and when he gets Toxxic in a submission – not if, Mak, but when – it’s going to be that much harder to break free.”

Flesher feints forward, barely reaching his right arm out toward Stephens’ left leg. The World Champion’s reflexes are sharp as ever, and he quickly shuffles back to avoid the attack. As he does, Flesher twists his body and pivots on his right leg, grabbing the head of the off-balanced Stephens and applying a side headlock. He leans on Stephens’ neck, trying to tighten his vise-like grip and at the same time make Stephens carry all 240 pounds. Stephens, for his part, tries to step around Flesher’s body to relieve some of the pressure. As he does, Flesher rolls his shoulders, tightening the headlock even further.

“Advantage, Flesher,” says King, as the two continue to grapple in the center of the ring. “He hit a leg fake, and Toxxic bit on it.”

“I gotta say,” Mak says, “smart move by Flesher. He’s trying not to run out of gas for at least another three, four minutes.”

Flesher maintains the headlock even as Stephens tries to shoot him off to the ropes. Feeling the pressure, Tom takes a step forward, only to plant his heels and skid a few inches but keep the headlock on. Stephens drops down to one knee, trying to grab Flesher by the leg and lift him off his feet, but the experienced mat wrestler throws his leg toward Michael’s chest, reminding him not to try to fight his way out of a Tom Flesher wear-down hold. Stephens, stymied, gets back to his feet and looks for other routes of escape.

Flesher, meanwhile, smirks as he turns his body, leading his opponent by the head until he faces James Matheson in the corner. On the outside, Amy Stephens shouts “COME ON!”, but Flesher maintains his stance. Matheson golf-claps, reminding Flesher to do exactly what he’s doing. Flesher nods, as Suicide King notes, “Tom Flesher is a master of attention to detail. The smallest thing can make the difference in a big match, even if it’s just keeping Toxxic away from his sister’s moral support, or Tom staying where he can hear Matheson’s instructions.”

As Matheson cheers him on, Flesher cocks his hips and takes Stephens to the mat with a side headlock takeover. Eddy Long counts

ONE!

but no more, as Stephens gets his shoulder up and rolls back toward Flesher. Tom lifts Stephens’ head off the mat, once again pinning his shoulders down.

ONE!

Again, Stephens rolls through, getting a shoulder up to break the count. He struggles, reaching around Flesher’s body to try the classical roll-through reversal to put Flesher’s back on the mat, but Tom keeps his behind planted firmly on the canvas. Frustrated, Stephens rolls toward Tom, putting his stomach on the mat to reformulate his plan of attack.

“I’ll tell you,” says Mak, “making weight a week ago is really hurting Michael Stephens. Tom Flesher’s easily 240 pounds today, and believe me when I tell you that extra 10 pounds can make a huge difference, especially when you’re like Flesher and you have that low center of gravity.”

“Are you calling him fat?”

“I dunno, King. Did he stop for poutine on the way over?”

Satisfied that he’s thrown a wrench into Stephens’ plans, Flesher starts back to his feet. He gets caught, though, when Stephens throws a leg up and hooks him with a quick headscissors grip! Stephens pulls Flesher down, easing his way out of the headlock and pushing Flesher’s shoulders to the mat. Tom quickly rolls through to his stomach, hooking Stephens by the leg and rolling through across his back into a half Boston crab! Before he can secure the hold, Michael Stephens lunges forward, freeing his leg from the hold... only to have Flesher drop an elbow down onto his back, then adjust and reapply his side headlock.

“This kind of tenacity,” says the Suicide King, “is what won Tom Flesher his first and second World Heavyweight Championships. He’s not going to give up easily, and no matter what he’s doing, he has the next three or four moves thought out. He’s resting here, and Michael Stephens is doing all the work just to get back to an even position.”

Flesher picks himself up off the mat slowly, bringing Stephens with him by pulling his head up and forcing his body to follow. As the World Champion grimaces, Tom adjusts his posture, reassuming his standing position and looking at Eddy Long as if to say, “What do you want me to do about it?”

Stephens reaches down, grabbing Flesher by the wrist and trying to peel his hands apart. He’s able to separate the Cruiserweight Champion’s hands and starts to spin himself free. Before he can get to his feet and wriggle out, though, Flesher pivots and hammers him in the jaw with a palm strike! Stunned, Stephens is easy pickings for a quickly-reapplied side headlock. Even the most stalwart fans are groaning now, but Flesher simply turns toward his corner and cranks the headlock again.

“This is getting ridiculous,” says Francis. “How does he expect to win the match when he’s just putting the same damn headlock on over and over?”

“Would you have said that to Ed ‘the Strangler’ Lewis, Mak? What are you, some kind of philistine?”

As Flesher again clamps down, Stephens peels his hands apart once more. This time, though, instead of trying to spin out, he simply crouches down and shoots Flesher forward to the ropes. Unable to grab Stephens’ head in time, Flesher sprints forward and bounces off the ropes. As he does, Stephens drops to the mat and takes Tom down with a soccer tackle! The fans cheer for the World Champion as he rolls away and comes up standing, with Flesher struggling to make it to his knees before Stephens unleashes a dropkick to the head that puts him right back on the mat! As Stephens backs away, formulating his next step, Flesher looks up at him to try to plan his. Stephens quickly reacts, throwing himself forward and dropping onto Flesher’s back with a somersault senton! Tom goes flat as Stephens rolls through, coming back to his feet while his opponent reconsiders his plan of attack. Given the beating he’s taken, Flesher makes a snap decision:

Bail.

“And Tom Flesher goes to the floor!” says Francis proudly. “He may be able to kick out of just about anything, King, but he can’t keep up with the blistering pace that Michael Stephens wants to set for this match. He couldn’t on a GOOD day, much less carrying an extra ten pounds of flab.”

Flesher regains his footing outside, and James Matheson quickly comes up to him and pats his shoulders with a towel. As Tom looks up, Matheson wipes the sweat from his brow... but the fans begin to cheer as Michael Stephens sprints to the opposite side of the ring and bounces off the ropes! Flesher stares, not quite sure what to do as the World Champion comes barrelling at him, and finally decides to cut his losses and drop to the floor, hoping Stephens will overshoot! Tom stays down for a moment, then backs away. He looks over his shoulder... no Toxxic. Shaking his head with frustration, Flesher slaps his forehead, and looks up to the ring, knowing what he’s going to see.

Mike perches on one knee, and checks his left wrist for an imaginary watch. The fans cheer.

Resignedly, Flesher looks on as Stephens stands up, points across the cheering Toronto crowd with one hand and strokes his chin with the other. Finally, as Tom rolls his eyes, Stephens plants both hands on his hips and grins cheesily to the fans. Flesher shakes his head with disgust.

The crowd, simply put, explodes!

“Oh, now he’s just showboating,” snaps King.

Stephens backs away from the ropes, allowing Flesher back into the ring without incident. As soon as Flesher makes it back to the inside, however, Stephens is waiting for him with a quick dropkick to the head. Flesher flattens out, once again caught with the speedy Stephens’ striking ability. Mike rolls through, then grabs Flesher by the head and pulls him into a European uppercut that throws him back into the ropes. Tom tries to shake off the force of the blow, but before he can, Stephens meets him with a running kneelift that nearly incapacitates the Cruiserweight Champion! Flesher staggers forward, and Stephens snags his arm and throws him to the mat with a hiptoss before covering him. Eddy Long counts

ONE!!

Flesher kicks out, though, before he can go any further.

“Mike Stephens gets his first near-fall,” says Mak Francis, “and he’s taken over control of the match. Sure, Taamo might have grabbed a few covers early on, but there’s a big difference between tilting someone’s shoulders from a headlock and actually getting a legit cover.”

“Oh, come on,” protests King. “You of all people, Mak! You won how many amateur medals, and you’re calling tilts illegitimate? How many college matches end with someone being knocked out, and how many end with someone showing enough technical brilliance to pretzel his opponent into a pin? Anyone can be brutish and try to knock someone out, but only a man of Tom Flesher’s intellect can win time in and time out without resorting to barbarism.”

After Tom kicks out, Stephens keeps hold of his left arm as he sits up. Flesher instinctively starts to roll to his stomach, leaving Michael able to stand him up. Mike keeps the left arm and turns all the way around, executing a textbook arm drag and twist reminiscent of Tito Santana. “Hey, he’s been practicing,” says Mak. “Maybe all that bitching Taamo did got to him after all.” As Flesher winces in pain, Stephens jerks the arm, pulling Flesher toward him and into a head-and-arm hold before dropping to his knees! Flesher pops back to his feet, bell rung by the sit-out jawbreaker, and staggers backwards to the ropes again!

“Shades of El Luchador Magnifico,” Mak says, “one of the few men to give Tom Flesher as much trouble as Michael Stephens has over the past few years. Tom’s gotta be in there wondering who he’s going to face next, whether it’s Wildchild, Johnny Dangerous or even, if you will, the Franchise.”

“Get over yourself,” King snorts. “Just because Toxxic put an old match in the VCR instead of watching the Best Of Manchester United again doesn’t mean he’s got Tom’s number. It just means he’s been watching more matches where Flesher walks out the winner, so he might know what’s coming as it hits him instead of having to wait for it to sink in after the bell rings.”

As Flesher leans against the ropes, Stephens grabs him by the singlet strap and pulls him into another European uppercut. Tom tries to shake off the cobwebs, but Stephens stays on him, hammering him with another forearm before thrusting his head foreward in a classic football-hooligan headbutt! The Toronto fans burst into cheers, and Mak shouts “GLASGOW KISS~!” as Flesher collapses into a heap. Stephens quickly hops on him, and Eddy Long counts

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

NO! Flesher kicks out, grimacing in pain and shaking his head to try to get his bearing back. Michael Stephens, meanwhile, backs away, looking like he’s seeing stars himself.

“Perhaps not the most sound strategy,” King says, “considering Tom Flesher’s almost inhuman ability to withstand punishment, and Toxxic’s... well... glass jaw.”

“You take that back,” says Mak Francis. “No one with a glass jaw could be as dominant a champion as Mike Stephens.”

Stunned or not, Stephens is more quick to his feet than Flesher, and makes him pay for his sloth by throwing a stiff boot straight to Flesher’s head! Tom recoils, trying to avoid any further abuse, but Mike Stephens isn’t about to let him escape. He grabs Flesher by the head and pulls him into a front facelock. Then, making sure to move quickly, he twists his body around to pull the Cruiserweight Champion into a hangman’s neckbreaker position.

“Mike’s using his speed to his advantage,” says Mak. “He knows it’s a bad idea to let Tom play in a front facelock for any length of time, so he moved through it as quick as he could and got to the meat of the move. He’s building up the pressure...”

Without wasting any more time than necessary, Michael twists around, sitting out to the side as he slams Flesher face-first into the mat!

“And watching it drop!” Mak shouts, as Flesher sprawls out on the canvas. His chest is visibly heaving as Michael Stephens hooks his arm and flips him onto his back, making sure to hook the leg as he makes the cover. Eddy Long counts

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

NO!!!!!

“Tom Flesher kicks out of the Pressure Drop,” says the Suicide King as the fans groan in disappointment. “I don’t know why Stephens even bothers anymore. He’s not going to get the win with things like soccer tackles, Pressure Drops and stupid poses. He’s just delaying the inevitable.”

“Oh, come on!” Mak says, sounding like his partner had suggested something as ridiculous as the SWF introducing a wrestler who competes as an anthropomorphic ferret. “You’re one of Tom’s biggest fans, next to Bobby Riley. How can you look at this and not see that he’s taking Tom apart, brick by brick, until he collapses? That’s Flesher’s MO!”

“That’s right,” King replies smugly. “It’s FLESHER’S modus operandi. Toxxic might try to execute it, but it’s not going to be the same as Flesher’s careful disassembly of an opponent. Besides, Toxxic’s so fragile that it’s only going to take one big move to put him down. He’d have to hit Flesher three, four times to even get close.”

Stephens slides out to the side, waiting for Flesher’s next move. As his chest heaves, Tom starts to sit up slowly. Stephens slides in behind him, quickly hooking a leg under Flesher’s arm. As the fans begin to cheer, Stephens grabs Flesher’s free arm, trying to lock up his leg nelson! As he tries to hook his other leg under Flesher’s arm and secure the hold, James Matheson hops up onto the apron and begins shouting, “HIS FOOT’S ON! HIS FOOT’S ON!” Eddy Long immediately turns toward the ropes, only to see that Flesher’s foot is nowhere near the bottom cable. Stephens checks as well, trying to adjust his position so that he can get the hold back on in a legal position if necessary. He sees that Tom isn’t on the ropes, but has only half a second or so to react before Flesher spins around, ducking out of the leg half-nelson and snagging Stephens’ left leg. He dumps Stephens onto his ass as he lifts him off the mat, stepping into a sickeningly high-angle half-Boston crab! As Eddy Long admonishes James Matheson for his interference, Amy Stephens jumps onto the apron and begins shouting at him herself!

“YOU WANKER!” she shouts. “I OUGHTA COME OVER THERE AND...”

Well, you get the idea.

As Eddy Long struggles to restore some semblance of order to the ring apron, Tom Flesher blithely presses an Asics wrestling shoe into the back of Mike Stephens’ head. Stephens grimaces on the mat, and after Eddy Long finally manages to convince Amy to hop back to the floor (“Awright, but he best not fuck around, innit!”), and James Matheson to follow (“Fine, but I didn’t do anything wrong in the first place, which is what I was trying to tell you to begin with!”), he turns to see Stephens being bent nearly in half.

“The angle on that half-crab is incredible!” marvels the Suicide King. “It’s like Flesher soaked Toxxic in warm water for three hours before the match to increase his flexibility!”

“I’ll tell you who looks like he’s been soaking in warm water,” Mak says, “and it ain’t Toxxic. Flesher’s sweating like a pig!”

Sure enough, the Superior One is absolutely dripping with sweat. His conditioning is clearly suffering from the extra weight he’s carrying this evening. Of course, Mike Stephens, and particulary his neck, is also suffering. Given the choice, most of the crowd would probably go with the bad cardio.

In any case, Flesher keeps the half-crab on only for a minute or so before realizing he’s not going to force Stephens to submit to it. After catching his breath, he drops Stephens’ leg onto the mat and turns around, sprawling down onto Mike with a headbutt to the back. Stephens lays on the mat as Flesher reaches down, hooking his chin and pulling him up into a camel clutch! As he plants his more-ample-than-usual rear in the middle of Stephens’ back, Flesher tries to pull both arms over his knees to tighten up the hold. However, Michael shakes his head free and scoots forward, trying to free himself from the hold. Flesher stays on him, doing his best to retard the World Champion’s progress. Still, Mike reaches out, grabbing the bottom rope and avoiding giving Flesher an opportunity to stretch him out.

“Tell me you’re not impressed with that,” Francis says. “He’s flexible, he’s quick, and he’s able to avoid pretty much anything Taamo throws at him.”

For his part, Flesher quickly stands up once Stephens grabs the ropes, although he’s perhaps less restrained than the rules require, as he immediately starts putting the boots to Mike’s ribs. Eddy Long steps in even as Flesher keeps trying to do as much damage while using up as little energy as possible. Long warns the king of the cruiserweights, and after doing so, begins his count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Finally, Flesher backs off, holding his hands up as if to profess innocence. He turns to James Matheson, who claps politely and says, “Keep the pressure on, Tommy, keep the pressure on!” Stephens, meanwhile, finds it difficult even to pull himself to his feet using the ropes. He turns his head toward Flesher and sees that the Superior One is busily taking direction from his manager. Seizing the opportunity, Mike lunges at Flesher, taking him to the mat with a soccer tackle! Surprised, it takes Tom an extra second to get back to his feet, and he’s met with a knee to the face that stands him up with authority! Tom backs into the ropes as Stephens lands a right-handed punch! Flesher reels, only to eat a quick left to the face! Stephens throws another right, and then connects with a second left! Mike, unable to resist, throws up the British V-sign, prompting a huge cheer from the Sky Dome crowd! The fans quickly go from cheering to groaning, however, because as Stephens starts the spin for his discus clothesline, James Matheson grabs Flesher by the ankle and pulls him out of the ring!

“Oh, COME ON!” shouts Mak Francis. “Matheson’s stealing the match from Stephens with this kind of crap!”

“He’s not doing anything even REMOTELY illegal,” King shouts back. (The fans in the front row would later swear his nose grew two inches.)

Eddy Long, of course, disagrees, as does Amy Stephens. (“WHAT FUCKIN’ BOLLOCKS! YOU GONNA LET THAT FLY, LONGY-DONGY?! COME ON, THAT’S SOME A-LEVEL SHIT THERE!”) In fact, as Flesher leans on the apron outside, Long disagrees so strongly that he points at Matheson and then at the locker rooms! The fans begin to cheer as members of the security force trot down to ringside and grab the protesting Matheson by his elbows.

“I’m going to sue!” he shouts. “There’s going to be a lawsuit on your desk in the morning, you son of a bitch!”

Nevertheless, the security force does its job, with one particularly puny member grabbing Matheson’s blue Halliburton briefcase and carrying it back to the locker room. As Flesher looks on, slack-jawed with shock, Amy Stephens leaps up and down on the apron.

“YOU GOT RID OF THAT BLOODY BASTARD! GOOD ON YOU, LONGY! YOU SHOWED SOME BALLS!”

Long, in especially bad humor thanks to Matheson’s antics, scowls at Amy. Then, much to the chagrin of everyone at Sky Dome, he points her toward the locker room, too! The Dome echoes with the booing of thousands upon thousands of fans as Amy shouts protests, with Long merely saying, “You roll those things back into your shirt and get to the locker room!” The security force makes another appearance, although Amy goes a bit more willingly than Matheson. There is, however, far more swearing.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHERE DO YOU GET OFF SENDING ME BACK TO THE LOCKERS WHEN YOU PUT UP WITH ALL KINDS-A SHIT FROM JIMMY MATH?! YOU WANKER!”

Still, within a few seconds, Amy is behind the velvet curtain. Michael turns away from the ramp, looking out to the ring apron, where Flesher was just a few moments ago. He doesn’t see the Superior One. After a beat, it dawns on him that he should...

too late.

“YAAAAAAAAAAAKUZA KICK~!” shrieks the Suicide King, as Flesher connects with Stephens just as he looks over his shoulder. Michael crumbles to the mat, and Flesher overruns him to slow down. Eddy Long begins admonishing Flesher, who brushes him off and focuses on the World Heavyweight Champion.

“Do you believe the sack on Flesher?” Mak asks, rhetorically. “Eddy Long just got done ejecting both men’s ring escorts, and now Taamo’s just ignoring him. He’s getting pretty close to getting tossed himself!”

Regardless, Flesher drops a diving elbow onto Mike’s neck, flattening him out on the mat. He reaches down, grabbing matching handfuls of Stephens’ chin-length hair and pulling him to his feet. Long, short-tempered, shouts at Flesher to release the illegal hair-pull. Flesher shrugs, saying, “You’re the boss.” He releases Stephens, and then hammers him with a stepping palm strike the sends him reeling back into the corner. Flesher smirks as he adjusts the mixed martial arts gloves he brought to the ring with him, maple leaf patches and all.

“He deserved that,” chuckles King.

Flesher follows the palm strike up with another, then crouches down and lunges forward to spear Stephens in the gut with a blast double leg! The takedown, of course, is ineffective, since Stephens is propped up in the corner, but Flesher shrugs off the impact as Stephens’ face curls up in pain.

Tom reaches down, picking Stephens’ ankle effortlessly and sending him collapsing to the mat. Instead of pulling Mike into another half-crab, however, Flesher drops the leg to the mat, opting instead to hammer him with a sickening shin-kick to the face! Stephens’ head snaps back with the impact, giving Flesher the opportunity to plant a boot flush in his face. Eddy Long interjects himself, noticing that Stephens is semi-consciously holding on to both bottom ropes. Flesher backs away, hands in the air, as if he had anything in mind but continuing his assault.

“This is where the extra poundage Taamo’s carrying tonight comes in handy,” King says. “He’s got extra force behind every one of his strikes, every palm, every Yakuza kick, every smack with the shin... even if they ARE padded.”

“Speaking of, I’m not totally sure those MMA gloves are totally safe,” Francis says. “I now Eddy checked them, but how do we know Matheson didn’t pass him something from the outside?”

“Look how tight they are,” King snorts. “If he could fit anything in those gloves, well, I wouldn’t want to let him near my teenage daughter.”

Flesher shakes his hands out, looking at the conspicuously taped left thumb. As Stephens pulls himself to his feet, Flesher takes a step forward, thrusting his left hand at the eye... but Stephens avoids the strike by slipping his head to the side! He throws a quick right hand, but misses his target of Flesher’s face and lands it squarely in the meat of Tom’s chest instead. The Superior One raises an eyebrow, then thrusts his palm forward and silences the Heavyweight Champion once again.

“I told you it was to protect an injury,” Flesher snaps.

With that, Flesher grabs Stephens by the wrist and whips him to the ropes. He plants his feet in the center of the ring, and as Stephens careens at him, Flesher extends his arm and steps into yet another palm strike! Once again, Stephens falls to the mat, but this time, Flesher drops onto him for the cover. Long counts

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

NO! Michael Stephens gets a shoulder up as Flesher scowls at Eddy Long. Regardless, he grabs Stephens and lifts him into a spinebuster position, then carries him over to the nearest corner and rams him back-first into the buckles. The fans boo as Flesher backs away after propping Stephens in the corner. Then, Tom gets a running start, then leaps off his feet to slam into the World Champion with a running avalanche! As he bounces back, Stephens falls backward, only to be grabbed around the chest as soon as his adversary moves back toward him. Flesher tightens his lock, then lifts Stephens into the air, throwing him overhead with a picture-perfect Railgun suplex! He releases Michael at the apex of the throw, letting him fall to the mat in a manner that suggests a plummeting stock.

“Ouch,” winces the Suicide King. “Can you believe that? That’s got to be one of the sickest suplexes I’ve ever seen Flesher throw! I would NOT want to be Michael Stephens come winter.”

Flesher makes the cover, and Long drops down to count.

(“His chiropractor, on the other hand...”)

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

TH- NO!!!!!!

The Toronto fans cheer as Stephens throws a shoulder off the mat, shaken but not willing to give up his claim to the Heavyweight Championship of the World. Flesher shoves him back down, covering him again.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

THR- NO!!!!!!

Once again, Stephens kicks out, getting a shoulder off the mat in time to keep from losing the match. Frustrated, Flesher grabs Stephens by the hair once again. He hoists Mike to his feet, then applies a front facelock. He ducks his head under Michael’s left arm, then reaches down to hook his leg for the fisherman’s suplex that helped him shock JJ Johnson just a few weeks before. Flesher clasps his hands together, and then finds himself struggling to keep his shoulders off the mat as Stephens rolls him over with a small package! Long counts

ONE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!

THRE- KICKOUT!!!!!!

The fans groan at the missed opportunity, but Flesher fumes as he rolls to his knees. Stephens crouches down, trying to turtle himself as Flesher regains his bearings. Tom drops into an offensive stance, ready to blast Mike with all 240 pounds. He waits for Michael to get to his feet and then launches himself... just in time for Stephens to hammer him with a Stephens Kick! Flesher staggers backward, stumbling in a small circle before finding a straight line to walk. He takes one step...

then another....

and then falls impotently onto his face.

As always, the crowd goes crazy, and as always, the Suicide King remarks, “I just don’t know why they like that flop so damn much.”

Mike Stephens looks down at the barely-moving Tom Flesher. He leans against the ropes, debating what to do. He takes a step toward Flesher, considering going for the pin, but he hesitates. Even though the cruiserweight superstar isn’t moving, something inside Mike Stephens’ gut tells him he’s not going to get the pin.

At least, not right now.

“Toxxic’s giving up a sure chance at a pin!” says the Suicide King. “Tom Flesher has him so rattled that he doesn’t even know what to do!”

Stephens reaches down, grabbing Flesher’s arms and lifting him off the mat with a gokuraku grip. With Flesher showing roughly the constitution of a damp noodle, Stephens struggles to pull him to his feet. He turns around, pulling him up and back-to-back, leaning against the ropes for balance... then drops to the mat to finish the gokuraku neckbreaker! The crowd cheers as Stephens maintains the hold and rolls over onto his stomach, then begins to bridge off the mat! He holds Flesher upside down in his inversion of Scott Pretzler’s Snowflake Clutch, stretching Flesher’s spine out as he raises his front bridge higher and higher!

Flesher grimaces, feeling his airway and neck constricting! Stephens, meanwhile, strains to keep Flesher’s body elevated and his spine stretched out. As Stephens struggles, Flesher continues fighting through the pain. He moves his arms, trying to relieve the pressure on his neck. He reaches down with his legs, trying to brace on Stephens’ hips and kick himself free. He tries everything he can think of, finding solace only in Stephens’ bridge beginning to buckle.

Michael Stephens feels the buckling bridge. He strains, trying to hold Tom Flesher in the air. He knows that he’s found a way to win the match. He doesn’t need to smash Flesher’s face in. He doesn’t need to knock out a man who operates without higher brain function. He doesn’t need to find a way to trap the man who knows more submissions than possibly any SWF competitor and make him tap the mat in humility.

He just has to hold on.

“TOXXXX-IC... TOXXXX-IC...”

As the Toronto fans try to cheer their favorite on to winning the match and carrying every major championship in the SWF, Mike Stephens tries to hold out.

Tom Flesher tries to hold out.

“TOXXXX-IC... TOXXXX-IC...”

Eddy Long watches closely, knowing that Flesher’s hands are captured, so he can’t tap out. His airway is constricted, so he can’t verbally submit. Even though the ropes are tantalizingly close, Flesher’s legs just aren’t long enough to reach them, so he can’t take the easy way out. Mike Stephens only has to wait for him to pass out and the match, and the Cruiserweight Championship, will be his.

“TOXXXX-IC... TOXXXX-IC...”

‘Only.’

Seconds pass, seeming like hours, until finally... Michael Stephens can’t stay up any longer. The fans groan as his hips buckle and he collapses to the mat, Flesher on top of him. He releases the gokuraku grip, and Flesher rolls harmlessly to the mat next to him.

“Oh my god, King!” Mak gasps. “I can’t believe that Mike Stephens couldn’t finish that off, but look at him! He just wasn’t strong enough to hold up!”

“Like he could have kept Tom in there long enough to get him,” says King, who then surreptitiously wipes the sweat from his brow and makes a sound that comes across as something like “whew.”

Michael looks at Flesher and sees an opportunity. He throws an arm under Tom and rolls him to his back. Then, slowly, he crawls over him and drapes an arm over his chest. Already in position, Long counts

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!

NO!!!! The crowd groans with disappointment as Long points to Flesher’s foot, draped harmlessly over the bottom rope! Michael Stephens looks up, crestfallen. He can’t believe he missed his chance.

“Saved by the ropes!” beams the Suicide King, once again wiping sweat from his brow. “Tom Flesher shows his strongest ability, knowing where he is and what his options are! He saved himself from the pin!”

“He robbed Mike Stephens!” says Mak. “Unbelievable!!!”

Stephens grabs the ropes, disgusted, and pulls himself to his feet before kicking Flesher’s foot off them. He grabs Flesher by the leg and drags him to the center of the ring, fuming! There, he drops down onto his adversary, hooking his leg and making the cover once again!

ONE!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!

THRE- KICKOUT!!!!!

This time, Flesher kicks out with more than enough time to stay safely in the match. He stays on his back, though, and Stephens can read that he doesn’t have the energy to fight much of anything. Stephens grabs him by the wrist and tries to pull him to his feet. Flesher sandbags, doing all he can to make his opponent expend as much energy as possible to improve his position. Still, Stephens is livid, and he pulls Flesher to his feet without much fuss. He pulls Tom in and throws one arm around his chest, locking him up with a uranage. He lifts Tom off the mat with every ounce of strength he has, then kicks his legs out! He slams Flesher to the mat with a sambo slam, driving his elbow into the Superior One’s sternum as he lands!

“SIDE EFFECT!” screams Francis. “Stephens is capitalizing on his earlier attack, just trying to knock the crap out of Flesher, and it looks like it’s working! Look at the way Tom’s chest is moving – he’s even struggling to breathe!”

“So is Toxxic!” growls King. “He’s not any better off than Tom is right now!”

Oh, but he is. Stephens gets to his feet fairly quickly and grabs Flesher by the legs, pulling him back to the center of the ring once again. This time, he knows he can’t make the same mistake. Instead of going straight for the cover, though, he makes his way over to the nearest corner post and begins climbing.

“Oh, this is rich,” says the Suicide King. “He thinks he’s going to be able to finish Flesher off just by going to the top rope? How naïve can you get?!”

“He knows all he has to do is put the icing on this one,” says Francis. “He could try for the Repeat to Fade or the RTF II, but if Tom’s got anything left in him, he’s going to find a way to counter it before it gets sunk in. He can’t lift him safely for the Triple S, and he can’t risk grappling with him for the Sunny in England. Going aerial’s not just an option, it’s the best one.”

Stephens seems to know all of that. He perches himself on the top turnbuckle. The fans cheer for him, even as he leaps off the top rope. He tucks his head in, somersaulting through the air and loading up his legs. As he lands, he pumps them out, hammering them with all the force he can muster!

Into the empty canvas, as Flesher rolls out of the way.

The crowd erupts in boos as Tom grabs the ropes, pulling himself up to his feet as Stephens collapses on the mat. Flesher breathes hard. He’s paying the price for being out of shape tonight. His legs are shaking, but he fights his way back to his opponent.

Stephens, for his part, refuses to quit. He forces his way back up to his feet, even as Flesher throws a palm strike that isn’t as strong as the ones he threw earlier. Still, the shotei shakes Stephens. He grits his teeth, trying to fight through the pain, even as he takes another palm blow to the jaw. The second reels him, and Flesher takes a deep breath. As he sees Stephens drop to one knee, he feels the adrenalin rushing through his body, and he uses that extra force to throw a hard shin-kick to Mike’s head! Stephens drops to the mat, shaken. His eyes are open, and he looks up at Flesher, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy left to fight the way his brain tells him he should.

It’s only going to take one move to put him down, and both wrestlers know it.

Flesher reaches down, shaking with excitement and fatigue. He pulls Stephens to his feet and stands next to him, sliding his right arm under Michael’s with a half-nelson. The fans begin to boo even more loudly as Suicide King shouts, “I KNOW THAT MOVE!”

“Oh, god,” Mak groans. “The last thing we need is Flesher getting another big win with the Jokers Wild.”

“Don’t knock it! It’s won more matches than you!”

As Flesher tries to set up the half-nelson forward Russian leg sweep, Stephens reaches up and grabs his hand. Tom tries to keep the half-nelson sunk, but Stephens peels it off! Flesher bends down, trying to keep him snagged, but Michael wriggles free, spinning around and facing Flesher from his knees!

The evil grin on Flesher’s face would make even the most jaded shudder.

He reaches down, grabbing Stephens around the waist in a gutwrench! The fans gasp as he crouches down, lifting Mike off the mat! “He’s going for the Ego Buster!” says King. “That’ll end the match, and god willing Toxxic’s career!”

Stephens has no designs on getting dumped on his head, however. As Flesher lifts him up, Stephens curls his body around the closest leg and reaches over, trapping Tom’s far ankle. The fans cheer as Flesher looks down, frustrated, and releases his grip, knowing he can’t execute the Ego Buster so encumbered. Instead, he settles for a kneedrop to the head. Stephens, seeming to know it was coming, rolls away, and Flesher hits the mat with all his force! Michael pulls himself to his feet, and as Tom looks up, he hammers the Cruiserweight Champion with a dropkick to the face! Flesher collapses to the mat, and Stephens dives onto him for a cover!

ONE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!

THRE- KICKOUT!!!!!!

Frustrated, Flesher kicks out! He looks up, his eyes blurry, at the emaciated Mike Stephens. Stephens, though, doesn’t stop to look down at him. Instead, he grabs Flesher by the wrist and pulls him to his feet, whipping him to the ropes! Flesher plants his feet, and within the blink of an eye, Stephens finds himself careening into the far corner! Flesher follows him in, and just as Stephens recovers from the initial impact, he finds Tom launching his body at him and hammering him with another running avalanche! The wind flies out of Michael’s sails, and back into Flesher’s.

“A simple reversal, but a crucial one,” says the Suicide King, as Flesher crouches down and grabs Stephens by the hips. “That one moment of awareness could be the move that wins Flesher the World Championship.”

Flesher sets Stephens on the top turnbuckle. Slowly, be begins to climb. He gets on the bottom rope...

“And we’re about to see...”

the middle rope...

“... the icing on the cake.”

and finally the top. He grabs Stephens by the head, slapping on a tight front facelock. Stephens tries to resist, but the Superior One ducks his head under the left arm to set up his suplex... or, in this case, the avalanche brainbuster known as the Boilermaker. The fans continue booing, showering Flesher with abuse, as he starts to lift Stephens off the buckle. Stephens struggles, trying to hold himself down. Flesher rocks him with a quick palm strike, hoping to shut him up long enough to execute the move. The desperation begins to show in Tom’s eyes as he finally begins to lift Stephens off the buckle, to hold him vertically in the air.

Then, in the blink of an eye, desperation turns to panic, as Stephens floats over Flesher’s body. He shifts his weight and swings around, flying behind Flesher and grabbing his chin as he falls to the mat. With the impact imminent, Stephens curls his body and cocks his knees!

THUD!!!!

“OH MY GOD!” screams Francis, as the Sky Dome crowd pops like a cherry on prom night! Flesher hits the mat on top of Stephens, the victim of an avalanche Lungblower! “LANDON MADDIX WOULD BE PROUD!”

Flesher cries out in pain as he lands on Stephens, who looks none too comfortable himself. Flesher bounces up, then collapses to the mat in a heap. Stephens, body aching from the beating he’s taken and given himself all night, rolls over, trying to cover Flesher.

“The partnership with that other skinny white guy paid off!” Francis shouts, as Stephens drapes an arm over Flesher. “Mike Stephens used Landon Maddix’s Lungblower to counter the Boilermaker! This could be it!”

Eddy Long makes the count.

ONE!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

THREE NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd gasps in disbelief. Mike Stephens looks up, not quite sure what just happened. Flesher, meanwhile, lays on his back, still grimacing in obvious pain. Still, the fact is irrefutable: he got a shoulder up. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t forceful. It didn’t need to be.

“Look, just LOOK, at the resilience being shown by Tom Flesher!” marvels King. “It’s unbelievable! It’s incredible! The ability to absorb punishment that’s been shown tonight, and through his entire career, is just...”

King trails off, not quite sure how to finish that thought. Still, Stephens is the one on his feet. Flesher looks up. Once again, his blue eyes meet Stephens’. This time, desperation is in both men’s gaze.

Flesher, arching his back in pain, stays on one knee. Stephens grabs him by the head, pulling him into a front facelock. He reaches down, trying to trap Flesher’s leg and arm together, but the frantic amateur specialist kicks his leg back to keep it from being captured. Stephens pulls him in closer, trying to tighten up the front facelock and secure the Caffeine Bomb that’s put both men away in the past. Tom Flesher fights with every ounce of strength he has, freeing himself every time Stephens tries to secure the leg cradle to lift him off the mat.

Finally, with a primal scream, Flesher stands up, lifting Stephens off the mat and throwing him overhead with a back body drop! Stephens hits the mat hard, but he rolls through. Flesher turns around, staggering from the pain inflicted on him all night. He sees Michael Stephens roll to his knees, and he looks at his shaking hands. Almost on instinct, Flesher peels off his right glove. He watches Stephens, who is starting to get to his feet, and steps forward, pivoting on his front foot. He extends his right arm, and for the first time in years, he clenches his right hand into a fist. As Stephens gets to his feet, he’s thrown straight back to the mat by Tom Flesher’s spinning back fist!

“Oh my god!” says the Suicide King. “The palm strikes were getting less effective, so Tom Flesher decided it was time to punt! And he threw a punch! He landed a punch! A spinning back fist!!”

Stephens is in a pile on the mat, but Flesher knows better than to go for the pin. His uraken knocked Stephens for a loop, but it wasn’t enough that the World Champion couldn’t escape.

Instead, Flesher pulls Stephens to his feet. He ducks down, grabbing the Heavyweight Champion of the World by the neck and the thigh, and lifting him off the mat.

Into a torture rack.

Mak Francis goes silent.

Stephens’ body twitches, but Flesher tightens his grip on his head and leg to keep him from moving. Then, with expert precision and deadly destructiveness, he drops to the side, slamming Stephens’ head to the mat.

“BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING HAMMER~!” shouts King, although it’s almost impossible to hear him over the crowd’s booing, shouting and disgusted screaming. “Tom Flesher hits the Burning Hammer on Toxxic! There’s no way... he’s...”

King looks over at his broadcast partner, whose face is stone.

Even the Suicide King doesn’t want to finish the sentence.

Flesher slumps over Stephens’ limp body, hooking his leg and head in an inside cradle just to make sure Stephens doesn’t kick out. Long counts

ONE!!!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No foot on the ropes.

No shoulder up.

No motion.

DING DING DING!!!!

Flesher rolls off Stephens’ body, his chest showing how heavily he’s breathing. Thankfully, Stephens’ chest rises, though significantly more shallowly. Eddy Long helps Flesher to his feet, even as the new World Champion’s legs shake, and his arms don’t adequately prop him up on the ropes.

Wait...

New World Champion.

Wait....

NEW WORLD CHAMPION?!

“The winner of the match... still the SWF Cruiserweight Champion, and ONCE AGAIN SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION of the WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD.... ‘the Superior One’... TOM.... FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Flesher celebrates in the ring as James Matheson sprints out from the back, his briefcase in hand. Charlie Matthews, bandaged from his earlier fight, stands in the entranceway, his rugged veteran’s smile spreading from ear to ear. Even Scion of Light comes out, pumping her fists and cheering as the crowd showers derision on Tom Flesher.

Eddy Long hands Flesher the Cruiserweight Championship, which he slings over one shoulder. Being Cruiserweight Champion isn’t that bad, it seems, if it doesn’t mean you’re the second in line. Matheson slides into the ring, leaping in the air with joy! He grabs the World Championship belt from Long and holds it out, practically dancing as Flesher leans forward and kisses the center plate. Then, as Tom nearly collapses from fatigue, Matheson wraps the belt around the waist of the new Champion.

Tom Flesher can barely stand, but on a night when champions lay claim to their titles, he has solidified his claim to three:

SWF Cruiserweight Champion.

SWF World Heavyweight Champion.

Legend.

-=-=-=-=-

SWF Genesis VII – September 18, 2006.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

Smartly Pretty · September 20, 2006

Too many matches, not enough comments.

Toxxic · September 20, 2006

Raina’s match:

First of all, take care with the sentence structure. Small things like “Raina starts gets to his feet” can really drag your match down, you need to make sure all the words you want (and none you don’t want) are there. Secondly, SOL showed a better understanding of the nature of the match - for her, all four competitors were mentioned as they worked out who would start the match. With you, the moment the Rageheart jumped Raina MANSON and SOL apparently disappeared with no explanation as to why they didn’t decide to get involved.

The Rageheart chinlock - a chinlock is a weardown move, which would make no sense to release after a few seconds. The only real reason to release a submission hold is if you know it’s not doing what you want it to do - for something that takes quite a lot of effort to maintain, like say an STF, it could well be worth releasing it if your opponent isn’t hurt enough to tap out. However, a chinlock takes very little effort to apply and all it’s ever going to do is wear someone down, soften them up for later, so there’s no reason to release it unless it’s been in place a while and you want to move onto the next stage, or if you’re up against a time limit.

“Raina’s feign” - Raina may have been ‘feigning’ injury, or he might have made a ‘feint’, but personally I consider this an odd use of language. It might be technically correct, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t seem right.

The next sequence is good, simple wrestling; Raina’s faster and gets the advantage that way. The focus on Rageheart’s leg is fine, but that sort of vicious focus on a limb (particularly the ‘prop-it-on-the-ropes-and-try-to-break-it’ tactic) is more usually reserved for the heel in a match. See Nitro vs. Hardy at Unforgiven for a recent example. Again, it’s not that it doesn’t make sense for the face to do it, but it doesn’t quite fit with normal wrestling practice, for me.

My next problem is purely language-based. If we look at the paragraph beginning ‘Rageheart stands’ we have thirteen sentences, nine of which start with someone’s name. This gives the narrative a choppy, stilted feel which could be avoided by running a few sentences together and using different descriptions for the guys in the ring. Also, crowd reactions are important. It’s an easy thing to say, so here’s how I’d write that paragraph to give an example of what I’d do:

Rageheart stands, hobbling on one leg, and dives to the nearest corner where his hand comes down and meets the flesh of MANSON. The Raging Bull has a sick grin on his face as he steps through the ropes, gazing at a hurt Raina who is trying to get to his feet. MANSON meets Raina just as Scotty stands; The Crush is still shaken from his missed move and MANSON grabs him by his hair before spitting a large amount of saliva in his face!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

MANSON laughs while Raina looks like he’s ready to pass out, and it looks like the Savage Messiah wants to end Raina’s match now. Accordingly he reaches around Raina, grabs him by the waist and, with a violent jerk, flips the lighter man up so he is perched on MANSON’s shoulders. The sick smile grows wider as he holds Raina up, then with a violent motion he drives Raina’s back into the canvas. Scott hits the mat so hard his body bounces slightly and after admiring his handiwork MANSON lays his back on the fallen Raina with a slightly careless cover.

MANSON has a plethora of nicknames; use them to avoid repetition. Raina’s got one as well, plus if you refer to him as ‘Scotty’ or ‘Scott’ then it gives a more personal feel, which is suitable as he’s a face and people are meant to identify with him.

The SOL/MANSON sequence annoys me, mainly because MANSON isn’t really in a position to be no-selling strikes from anyone except maybe Megan Skye. However, SOL does get him in the end so that’s OK. The SOL/Rageheart sequence is fine, another example of the smaller wrestler using her speed, not to mention risk-taking.

“SOL gets to get feet”

Sloppy.

“Rageheart struggles to his feet buy uses to ropes to stand”

Also sloppy.

Although I have no real problem with MANSON being dickish with SOL (hell, he’s practically the leader of his own religion), I’m confused as to why SOL’s lowblow didn’t get her disqualified from an elimination match. However, the ensuing beatdown is overkill. MANSON’s fist tearing a hole in her mask is pretty much a no-no, after all masks are important in wrestling. Also, a beatdown of that ferocity is something that should take place in a feud where both parties have agreed to it, or at least in a match where they have history, not in a match where they’ve not wrestled before. Yes, MANSON’s a heel, but he’s also a cagey veteran and he’d be unlikely to get himself DQ’d that cheaply.

The Raina/Rageheart final sequence is fine up to where Raina goes to the outside and ‘lands kind of rough’, which is a phrase that grates on me with its conversational nature. Also, for consistency there should have been a referee count while Raina was on the outside, just like for Rageheart and SOL. The Russian legsweep off the apron is a good move, but again, there should have been a count for both men while that was going on and before Rageheart re-entered. It’s not a major thing, but it is consistency.

From there, I still have a problem with the language and the repeated (over)use of names, but you also fall down on the end - after Rageheart gets rolled into a small package and misses a clothesline, it’s all Raina; he hits a neckbreaker, a dropkick, a diving dropkick, a bulldog and the Heartbreaker. There’s no ‘race to the finish’ of desperate counters and kickouts - Raina made what would have been a fairly comfortable kickout of a stalling suplex (one-legged? maybe), and then proceeds to take the match home. There’s no drama, no ‘will-he-won’t-he’, no last-gasp desperation, and in the end that’s what leaves the lasting impression. If you think about the wrestling matches you watch, the start can be boring, they might even blow some spots, but if the ending has you going “He’s got him… wait, what? No, he’s going for… he missed it! And now… Jesus, how did he counter that? And… HE’S GOT HIM!”… that’s what generates the pop from the crowd at the end.

So anyway, I hope this has been helpful. You lucked out by being put against another writer in your first match instead of getting the ‘warm body welcoming committee’ and they put in a better match than you, but best of luck next time around!

Sign In

Genisis VII Losing Matches Thread

Recommended Posts

Guest Da_Big_Nasty

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest Da_Big_Nasty

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Smartly Pretty 0

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Ace309 0

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Smartly Pretty 0

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Toxxic 0

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Browse

Activity