chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF SMARKDOWN Live, Monday, October 2nd, from the Key Arena in Seattle, Washington! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Bruce Blank vs. Jacob Helmsley -> Jacob Helmsley's return was both very successful and extremely violent - two words that adequately describe his opponent tonight! Bruce Blank's jaws-of-life hold on the International Title may be coming to an end tonight, as he faces the man that beat him pillar to post two weeks ago! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Jimmy the Doom vs. Tom Flesher -> Jimmy the Doom picked up a big big win over Landon Maddix last show - he's moving up the ladder, the next rung of which is the recently disgraced Tom Flesher! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: JJ Johnson -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Zyon vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix -> Peters has decided his new purpose in life is to make Zyon miserable for his Genesis absence. First stop on the Zyon Misery Tour - Landon Maddix! Maddix suffered a Hardcore defeat at the hand of Jimmy the Doom, and I imagine he will not be going easy on the Unique Youth tonight! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Alan Clark vs. Scotty "The Crush" Raina -> Alan Clark made short work of the Scion upon his return, so we thought we'd give our other nooblet a chance to take down the Disney machine. Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Nighthawk vs. Amy Stephens -> Jay Hawke's mystery friend is revealed, and Peters is giving him some pretty stiff competition right off the bat, but considering his experience, Amy may be the one in trouble! Nighthawk used to wrestle with his partner Jay way back in the day, and to hear him tell it, he was quite successful. Let's see if he can shake off the ring rust and rise once again. Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Ultimo Phantasmo vs. Mike Van Siclen -> A rookie who never quite got off the ground, Ultimo Phantasmo gets a second chance tonight, but there'll be no lowly Ced or Martin Hunt for him tonight! Instead, he's kicking off his SWF career against a pissed off Mike Van Siclen! Rules: Standard singles match. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 Ultimo vs. MVS to be edited in. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 Francis: “And we are back on Smarkdown, and we have another debut tonight. We will be seeing Nighthawk, apparently an old tag team partner of Jay Hawke’s, in action tonight against the sister of World champion Toxxic, Amy Stephens.” King: “Well, I don’t know how familiar you are with Nighthawk, Mak.” Francis: “Not very.” King: “About five years ago, there was a promotion based out of the Great Lakes region, and Nighthawk was basically the perennial wrestler there for most of its existence. He was the World Champion longer than anybody, and he and Jay Hawke had more tag team title reigns in that company than anybody else. Plus he’s got a mean streak that will rival most of the competitors in this company, possibly even Bruce Blank himself.” Francis: “So how do you think he is going to do tonight against Amy Stephens?” King: “Let’s just say I hope Amy has her insurance paid up, because she might be filing a claim on her policy before the night is over.” Francis: “This should be a quite interesting contest to say the least. With that in mind, let’s go to the ring for the opening introductions.” Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall.” :: The arena lights go out. A cold breeze filters through the crowd. A lightning bolt streaks from the ceiling striking the stage. An explosion of flames erupts from the impact sight and climbs eight feet high. Francis: “What the hell was that?” As the flames subside the cloaked figure of Nighthawk appears. King: “I think he’s here.” Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” comes over the PA, the lights gradually come up as the flames die down. Nighthawk slowly makes his way to the ring followed by his manager Falcon, a young raven haired, blue eyed women. Once in the center of the ring he stands with his head bowed still cloaked. Falcon reaches up from behind him and removes his cloak. Funyon: “Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Falcon. From Hawk Mountain, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 285 pounds. Making his SWF debut…NIGHTHAWK!” The blasting opening of ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ by the Ramones fires up, leading to a cheer from the crowd. After a few seconds Amy comes out onto the stage with a can of lager (usually Stella Artois) in her hand and charges down to the ring. Funyon: “And his opponent. From Nottingham, United Kingdom, and weighing in at 171 pounds. AMY STEPHENS!” Amy climbs to the second buckle, raises her lager and leads the crowd in a chorus: “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” As Joey launches into the first verse proper Amy drops down to the ring again, takes a few pulls from her can and then puts it down on the apron before getting ready for the match. Francis: “Certainly a size difference in this match here, but don’t sell Amy Stephens short. She’s a lot tougher than she looks.” King: “I wouldn’t know, I try not to look at her if I don’t have to.” *DINGDINGDING* At the sound of the bell, Amy Stephens dances around, waiting for her opponent to make a move. Nighthawk, however, simply stands where he is, staring his smaller opponent down. Francis: “Well, we’re underway here, but Nighthawk’s not making any sort of move forward.” King: “Why not? Size your opponent up, and let her expend some energy while she’s at it.” Slightly frustrated, Amy moves in and levels Nighthawk with a forearm to the chest. The move has little effect if any, as Nighthawk doesn’t move and stares her down some more. Amy runs into the ropes, catching Nighthawk with another forearm smash into the chest, this time barely moving Nighthawk back -- two steps at the most -- with her larger opponent still staring her down. Amy again runs into the ropes, this time coming back with a dropkick to the knee. Nighthawk’s knee buckles, and he drops to one knee. Francis: “Stephens changing her approach slightly, and now Nighthawk is down to her level.” Amy takes advantage, getting in a series of kicks to the ribs and chest. She moves behind him, running off the ropes and flipping over the top of him, driving his face into the mat. Amy rolls Nighthawk onto his back and goes for the cover: ONE! T -- Nighthawk heaves Amy off of him, sending her flying about halfway across the ring. Crowd: “OHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Francis: “Wow. Nighthawk showing some tremendous strength there in that early kickout.” Stephens is quickly back to her feet, and as Nighthawk gets back to his, she levels him with a forearm to the chest that barely budges him. Amy runs into the ropes and comes back with another forearm, and Nighthawk backs up a couple of steps but remains on his feet. King: “You’d think that when this didn’t work the first time, she’d have taken the hint.” She runs off the ropes again, but we’ll never know what she planned on doing, because she gets caught coming in with such a devastating clothesline that a large portion of the crowd is surprised they’re not taking her head home for a souvenir. Crowd: “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Nighthawk moves in and pulls Amy Stephens to her feet. He drives a couple of elbows into the back of her neck, then locks her into position and falls backward, throwing her over his head and down to the mat. Crowd: “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Francis: “T-bone suplex, and Amy Stephens just got thrown halfway across the ring yet again!” King: “He just rhrew her like a rag doll! Except not as good looking!” Somehow, Amy Stephens tries to pull herself to her feet. As she stands, doubled over, Nighthawk is quick to lock her into a front facelock. Amy tries to break it with a couple of punches to the ribs, but Nighthawk jumps into the air and drives her to the mat with a DDT. Sensing victory, Nighthawk drops down into the pin attempt: ONE! TWO! Nighthawk picks her shoulders off the mat and shakes his finger as if to say, “no no no no.” Francis: “He pulled her off the pin! That one is likely to cost him the victory!” King: “Normally I’d agree with you, but one more shot to the head and she might even think you’re attractive, Mak, so I think he’s got things well in hand.” Nighthawk pulls her to her feet again and Irish whips her straight into a turnbuckle. Nighthawk bends down briefly to talk to Falcon, then charges into the corner, arm outstretched for a clothesline. Amy Stephens ducks out of the way at the last possible second, rolling onto the ring apron as Nighthawk crashes hard chest-first into the corner. Crowd: “YAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Francis: “Nighthawk made a mistake there, taking his eyes off his opponent, and now Amy Stephens is climbing up to the top turnbuckle!” Amy Stephens has a bit of trouble getting her balance, but when she does she flies…right into the arms of an opponent already waiting on her. Nighthawk then shifts Amy’s body into the position he wants, then drops her down to the mat with a jack-knife power bomb, jarring her body in the process. King: “Jesus. I haven’t seen a woman take a beating like that since the last time we were in Vegas and you paid that one girl to…” Francis: “I did no such thing.” King: “What do you mean you…oh, I get it. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Once again, Nighthawk chooses not to go for the pin, instead opting to pick up a seemingly defeated opponent. He whips her into the ropes, ducking his head as she makes her rebound. Amy instinctively gets in a kick to his chest, which backs Nighthawk up against the ropes. Amy Stephens quickly runs into the ropes for added speed, then comes in with a Polish hammer. The force of the blow, combined with Nighthawk leaning against the ropes, sends Nighthawk tumbling over the top rope to the arena floor. Crowd: “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Francis: “What a move! A double-ax handle to the face sends Nighthawk out of the ring, and she’s quickly heading to the top rope.” Amy Stephens waits for Nighthawk to get to his feet, then leaps off the turnbuckle, catching him with a flying ax handle that drops Nighthawk to one knee. She tries to move in, but Falcon comes up for behind and grabs a handful of hair just hard enough to turn Amy around and distract her. Amy Stephens points a finger at Falcon as Falcon talks some trash, and Nighthawk reaches from behind and grabs a handful of hair. Crowd: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Francis: “Do you believe this?” King: “Hey, that’s the advantage of having a manager at ringside, Mak.” Still hanging onto the hair, Nighthawk throws Any Stephens back into the ring. Nighthawk steps onto the apron, then begins to step over the top rope. As he gets one foot in the ring, Amy gets to her feet and kicks the top rope upwards, catching Nighthawk…um…in a bit of a vicarious spot. Francis and King: “Ow……..” Nighthawk falls to the side and lands on the canvas. Amy Stephens hops onto the second turnbuckle, then comes off, dropping an elbow into the chest. She immediately goes for the cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout, Nighthawk begins to make his way to his feet, and Amy hooks his arms and spins him around for a backslide, but hooks her arms into a reverse full nelson. She drops down to her knees, jarring the back of her opponent’s head and neck. Francis: “Innovative neck breaker there, and she goes for the pin.” ONE! TWO! Kickout. King: “No way are you going to beat this man with a couple of moves like that, Mak!” Nighthawk pulls himself to his feet, but before he can straighten himself up, Amy grabs him by the back of the head and pulls down, driving his face into her knees. Francis: “Face breaker, and she goes into another cover, hooking the leg!” ONE! TWO! THRE -- kickout! Crowd: “YA--BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Francis: “That was the closest one yet, King!” King: “She’s got to put him away right here if she’s going to take him though!” As Nighthawk once again pulls himself to his feet, Amy Stephens moves behind him. She leaps onto his back and hooks his head and neck into a rear naked choke, then falls backwards, locking in a body scissors on the way down. Francis: “Last Orders! She has Nighthawk locked into the Last Orders, and this could be all right here!” King: “You’d think that since rear naked choke has the word ‘choke’ in the name, the referee would break the move up by now!” Amy Stephens clamps down on the hold, trying to make it unbreakable as the crowd begins chanting “Tap! Tap! Tap!” Nighthawk is seemingly fading as he remains trapped in the hold, but Falcon grabs Nighthawk’s foot and places it on the bottom rope, then begins screaming at the referee to get his attention. The referee looks up and sees the foot on the rope, then orders Amy Stephens to break the hold. Crowd: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Amy releases the hold and looks down at Falcon, not-so-nicely telling her to keep out of the match. Francis: “Falcon saving Nighthawk from what appeared to be certain defeat there!” King: “But Stephens is making a mistake here! She should be following up!” Having said her peace, Amy Stephens turns around…right into a super kick from the now recovered Nighthawk. Crowd: “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Nighthawk pulls Amy Stephens to her feet by the hair, then places her on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He then drops to his side, driving her right onto the top of her head. King: “Death Valley Driver!” Francis: “And that one is going to finish it off right there!” Nighthawk pulls Amy to her feet again, then places her on the top turnbuckle. Francis: “Oh, try to pin her already!” King: “Mak, if this is what I think it is, watch this!” Nighthawk follows her onto the top turnbuckle. He picks her up, holding her vertically in the air before falling off the turnbuckle and driving Amy’s head straight down into the canvas. Crowd: “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Francis: “A brain buster off the top rope!” King: “He calls that the Power Dive!” Nighthawk goes for the pin: ONE! TWO! THREE! *DINGDINGDING* King: “And when he hits you with that, there’s no kicking out of it!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner…NIGHTHAWK!” Francis: “Nighthawk gets the win here in an impressive debut, but you’ve got to give credit to Amy Stephens for a valiant performance there.” King: “I don’t know about that, Mak. You have to remember that Nighthawk hasn’t wrestled in years. No way if Nighthawk is fully active does Amy Stephens come that close to defeating him.” Francis: “You’re not giving Amy enough credit, King, but I’ll give Nighthawk credit for a terrific debut.” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 “Hey, man, I’ve been looking for you,” Zyon walks into the locker room at the peace arch, trotting over to Akira Kaibatsu, who’s sitting on a bench in front of a television, watching the show. “Me? Why?” Kaibatsu asks, accented as always. “Well…I’ve kinda had my eye on you for the past few weeks.” “Pfft. Sure that was fun to watch. What, three in a row now?” Kaibatsu scoffs at himself. “Well…that’s what I wanted to talk about. I think I can get you back on the right track.” “Oh?” “Back in February, no one gave a shit about Akira Kaibatsu. You beat me twice and won the cruiserweight title and all the sudden you’re on the map.” “Yeah, that was back in February.” Kaibatsu says. “Well, after that we tagged a few times. On top of a tank once, haha,” Zyon laughs. “So…what exactly are you proposing, here?” Akira asks. “Let’s try tagging. Just for a few weeks, see how we like it. Hey, maybe we can work our way up to a title shot and you can get yourself back on track.” Kaibatsu thinks about it. He strokes his beard and looks at Zyon’s eyes. The scene fades as Akira and Zyon shake hands. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 “Oh really? Well I’m not the one under contract, so I don’t think I need to listen to any of that (bleep). WHAT? Oh (bleep) this!” As a small box pops up in the right corner of the screen, the following segment appears to be Rated TV-G, judging by the Suicide King’s quick double bout with the censor as Lockdown returns from one of its many, many scheduled commercial breaks. “It might be horrible for you, King, but Alan Clark’s contract requires a little extra to be done on behalf of the production truck and us here in the booth.” Mak Francis is nonchalant as usual by the demands of the Disney corporate culture handbook. “What? Oh, right” the King of Hearts still seems to be conversing with the production crew through his earpiece as he lifts up a piece of paper to read. “Okay, here we go. The following segment is sponsored by The Little Mermaid, now on Disney 2-Disc DVD coming to stores tomorrow October 3rd for a limited time only!” he drops the paper and can be heard muttering to himself as the lights in the arena drop down to near darkness. “Please Stand Clear of the Ring. Por favor Soporte Claro del Anillo…. …For the Safety and Comfort of Others…No Smoking Please. Para la Seguridad Y la Comodidad de Otras... El Ningún Fumar Por favor….” “Oh boy, here we go!” cries out King in quite the sarcastic tone. “The Walt Disney Company and the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation are proud to present…the following matchup…” Instead of the magical Tinkerbell and Wishful entrance those in Blaine, Washington received, the sounds of calypso beats through the arena, the origin of the music appearing through the curtain… The seaweed is always greener In somebody else’s lake You dream about going up there But that is a big mistake Just look at the world around you Right here on the ocean floor Such wonderful things around you What more is you lookin’ for? “UNDER THE SEA!” Mak Francis yells out along with the music as a full band follows Alan Clark and Walter Reynolds out from the entranceway, stopping on the stage and leaving the duo to make their way to the ring as bubbles begin to rain down from the ceiling of the Key Arena. “Well, that’s synergy for you” remarks the Suicide King as Alan slaps off some high fives and hits the ring, sliding under the bottom rope as Funyon makes his announcement. “Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL…introducing first to my left…weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds and representing Disneyland …accompanied to the ring by Walter Reynolds…he is the self-proclaimed and copyrighted Happiest Guy On Earth… ALAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!” “Just last night, Bloodshed, the alter-ego of Alan Clark, sprayed Bruce Blank with a shot of bloodmist en route to the Dead Precedents taking a loss at the OAOAST’s World Without End. You have to know that both he and Bruce are still feeling the effects of that match as they both prepared for their matches tonight here in Seattle!” “How can he even do that?” King ponders, “he’s Bloodshed there, we know he’s a total maniac, yet he’s here with a (bleep)ing band and a huge annoying cheerful smile on his face!” “He said it himself. The SWF does not need Bloodshed. I think both he and Bruce understand that, but you have to wonder what Bruce is actually thinking about all of this.” As the bubbles stop, the happy-go-lucky calypso is replaced with the heavy, pounding riffs of Audioslave’s “One And The Same”… BOOOOOOM! Flares of white pyrotechnic wonder fly from around the entranceway as Scotty Raina leaps out from behind the curtain and makes his way to the ring, almost hopping from side to side as he slap a few hands before hitting the ring, passing by the stoic Reynolds before also diving under the bottom rope and quickly popping to his feet. “And his opponent…to my right…hailing from Detroit, Michigan and weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds… SCOTTY…”THE CRUUUUUUSH”…RAAAAAAAAAIN-A!!!” “Joseph Peters must be against rookies just popping into the fed, as Alan Clark has never been a guy to take anyone lightly, no matter what name he goes under. If you’ve had less than three matches in this company, Alan Clark is not the guy you want to find yourself in the ring with!” But Mak’s warnings do not seem to fit with the scene as Sexton Hardcastle stands between the two men, with Alan once again extending his hand to the rookie across from him. “Hi! My name is Alan Clark. Are you having a magical day?” Scotty stares blankly at the cheery Clark and shakes his hand. “My name is Scotty, I’m okay. I guess.” He pauses. “Shouldn’t we be…you know…wrestling?” the camera catches the conversation between the two before Alan simply nods his head and moves a few feet back from his opponent, allowing Hardcastle to single for the bell. [/i] *DING DING DING* “And the Crush attacks!!” screams Francis as Scotty fires off a stiff clothesline before Hardcastle can even get his eyes back on the two men! Alan hits the canvas and rolls to his stomach, getting back to his feet, only to catch a hard kick right into his chest. SMACK! The sound reverberates throughout the arena as Alan’s body recoils, only to pop back up and straight into another stiff kick! SMAACK!! “That’s how a rookie makes his mark!” “Yeah, a mark on the chest of Alan Clark!” Alan tries to steady himself as the Crush winds up for another kick… WHIIIIFF!! “No, Raina missed!” Scotty’s body spins out as Alan falls to his stomach in the nick of time, only to crouch into a ball on his hands and knees. As Scotty turns back around, Alan springs, literally, out of his ball, sending both of his feet right into the stomach of the Crush, pushing him away and giving the Happiest Guy On Earth time to get back to his feet. “A bit of a donkey kick by Clark and now he’s back up and looks to be somewhat annoyed after the post-handshake attack of the rookie.” “Oh come on, Francis, look at him, don’t you just want to beat the (bleep) out of him with a Shrek DVD?” “But Shrek wasn’t a Disney film, King!” “That’s the point, there, Wheels…” King almost says the line under his breathe as Mak looks over at him, looking even more annoyed at his partner than Alan Clark is in the ring, both Clark and Raina finding themselves in a game of chicken as they dash at each other, looking to crash in the center of the ring… “Alan Clark looking for a dropkick…” THUUUUUD!! “NO! He got NONE OF THAT!” yells Francis as Alan’s body crashes to the mat with a hard thud just as Scotty rolls out of a artful somersault. With the wind still trying to get back to his lungs, Alan is barely able to move even an inch before he finds the point of the Crush’s right elbow slamming down onto his chest, knocking whatever air had been collected back out with a violent wheeze. Alan tries to roll towards the ropes for salvation, only for Raina to fall atop him for a cover! One! T—Kickout! “Alan kicks out easily before the two count, and you can see that World Without End really has taken the bounce from his step. He has barely gotten a single bit of offense off this far in the match, and I don’t see much more coming for the moment.” “Yeah, what were you saying about rookies not having much a chance against your so-called uber-veteran Alan Clark?” questions Suicide King as Alan once again tries to roll to the ropes, only to be quickly pulled to his feet by Raina. With a loud grunt, Scotty whips Clark from one corner to the other, following almost too close behind the cheery superstar and slamming into him with another devastating clothesline just as Alan strikes the turnbuckle. “Everyone makes mistakes, King. Even me. Even you.” “Whatever.” King replies as Alan’s body falls down in the corner, his head resting against the second turnbuckle. The Crush runs quickly to the opposite side of the ring, striking the ropes and coming in at an angle, a close-up showing the eyes of Alan Clark opening just in time to meet with the soles of Raina’s boots! SMACK!!! Alan’s head whiplashes against the force of the sliding dropkick, his neck twisting and snapping back and forth. As Scotty gets back to his feet, Clark slides himself under the bottom rope to the floor, holding at his neck and seemingly complaining towards Reynolds, who tries his best to check on him as Hardcastle begins his count in the ring. …1… Raina seems none to pleased at his prey escaping, and the exclamations of Mak Francis can be heard as the Crush comes flying across the ring towards the ropes… “LOOK OUT!!” Walter, just as he did days ago on Lockdown, dives out of the way, and Alan follows just as he did before the Scion of Light dove over the top rope, but unlike the Scion of Light, Scotty “The Crush” Raina stops dead at the ropes, grabbing them with both his hands as Alan turns back around after not hearing the earth-shattering kaboom of his opponent’s body striking the floor… EARTH-SHATTERING KERSPLAAAT!! “ALAN CLARK JUST GOT FLATTENED!” Francis cries out as the Crush takes a leap of faith over the top and crashes down atop the Happiest Guy On Earth, putting both men down as Walter Reynolds and Sexton Hardcastle look down upon them. …3… “HOLY (BLEEP)! HOLY (BLEEP)! HOLY (BLEEP)! HOLY (BLEEP)!” “Oh come on! They don’t care about Disney either!!” King’s laments go unheard over the chants of the crowd as Scotty gets back to his feet, pulling himself up with the apron as Clark, now on his stomach, fights to get to his knees with his opponent standing over him… …and kicking him violently in the head!! …4… “I don’t think Scotty cares about the count right now! He wants to make an impact here on Smarkdown and I don’t think censorship and ratings and even Sexton Hardcastle are going to keep him from doing it.” “He needs to care about that count, he can do all the damage he wants, but it is WINS that count here in the SWF! Jacob Helmsley defeated Bruce Blank a week or so ago and now tonight he has a title shot!” Francis counters as Alan continues to fight up to his feet, clawing at the barricade as Scotty puts another boot square into his neck. …6… “Keep it in the ring!” Hardcastle can be heard yelling, leaving Scotty to turn around to face the referee and hold up his finger, as if to say “one second”, before pulling Alan to his feet and spinning around with a quick whip, slamming Clark back-first into the apron! Clark lets out an involuntary howl of pain from the shot as Raina heads to the ring, his eyes pausing on Reynolds, who simply holds his hands up and moves away from the action before the Crush enters the ring, dragging Clark with him under the bottom rope. “Back in the ring now…and a cover!” One! Two! Kickout!! Clark is able to kick out, and before Scotty can complain of any kind of slow counting, he notices that his opponent is still trying to get back to his feet. With a grab to the back of the head, the Crush helps Clark up, pulling him to the center of the ring with a hard yank, straight into a front facelock… …and a lift… …and a… THUUUUUD!! “Huge DDT there! Alan Clark’s head was nearly driven straight into his chest!” “DOUGLAAAS!!” The King suddenly yells. “You know, you are fairly strong, and usually mad too.” “I want a gold star.” He sadly replies and slumps his shoulders down as Raina goes for another cover… One! Two! Thr—NOOOO!!! “Alan Clark gets his shoulders up just before the three, and this has to be waining on the nerves of the rookie.” “That idiot could have gotten hit with a car before the match started and he will still get up. Remember when he put Thugg through a car?” “I’m more worried that you remembered something that happened that long ago.” Francis quips as Raina gets back to his feet, his hands on his hips as he looks around in confusion at what he will have to do to put Clark away. “I remember all kinds of things, Francis.” “Who was the first SJL World Champion?” “Grimedogg, you silly cripple.” Francis shakes his head as King lets out a small guilty laugh, but the uncomfortable mood at the announce table is suddenly broken as Raina stands Clark back up to his feet, only to quickly slam him back down with fierce velocity courtesy of a jarring Russian legsweep! “Beautiful legsweep and a cov—no! Scotty Raina is back up to his feet and…ASIA MOONSAULT!!” Mak calls as The Crush hits the second rope and moonsaults backwards with picture perfect form… …and hits NOTHING BUT CANVAS!! “Clark moved!! Alan Clark moved just in the nick of time!!” “(BLEEP)!” Whatever King said, it did not meet the standards of the censors, leaving the viewers to use their imaginations as Raina lands chest-first on the mat! A few feet away, Alan Clark has pulled himself up to his feet with a little assistance from the ropes, and as the camera closes in on the veteran’s face, they can see his trademark smile is back and in full form. “It looks like that endurance Alan Clark is known for is starting to kick in!” “I told you, Francis! I told you! I hate it!” King remarks as Clark slouches down in the corner as Raina gets back to his feet, his back turned to Alan… WHAAAAM!! “And a bulldog to the Crush!! Face-first back to the mat!” Alan is back up in record time and looks to the ropes…he leaps up, hitting the second rope and bouncing back, repeating the same movement the rookie had done seconds earlier… “HE MOVED! Ooooooooooooooooh! “…CLARK LANDS ON HIS FEET!” Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!! “Alan was prepared there, landing on his feet as Scotty was able to move out of the way!” Mak continues as Scotty is back up quickly… THWAAACK!! …and catches the right foot of Clark right into the back of his head!! “That sounded like a gunshot! Is Disney advocating guns now too?” “HARD enziguri from Alan Clark has put Scotty DOWN! COVER!!” One! Two! NOOO!! “Raina with the kickout before the three, and so far that is Alan’s only pinfall attempt of the match. You can definitely see who the fresher of the two competitors is now.” Clark gets back to his feet, shaking off some of the cobwebs from the opening few minutes of abuse at the hands of his opponent, who is also back up to his feet across the ring. Both men meet near the center of the ring and go into a tie-up, each man fighting for some position, but as the seconds tick past, it is easy to see that even after the beating he has taken so far in the match, Alan Clark is just a bit stronger than the rookie Raina… …but the Crush is just a bit faster! “SLEEPER!!” Francis yells as Raina turns Clark around from the tie-up, interlacing his arms around the neck of the Happiest Guy on Earth! Alan tries his best to fight from the hold, shaking his body like a broken Small World doll as the Crush keeps the hold locked in, putting more and more pressure on the neck and shoulders! “He might be resilient, but with how much punishment he’s taken, this could be it for Disney boy!” King almost giggles with delight as Clark’s body begins to slump down onto it’s knees and his eyes flutter closed, his arms going limp at his sides. On the outside, Walter Reynolds looks concerned as his hands go to the bottom rope, but the crowd in the Key Arena grows behind the veteran… “WE WANT BUBBLES! (clap clap clapclapclap) WE WANT BUBBLES (clap clap clapclapclap) WE WANT BUBBLES (clap clap clapclapclap)” “Bubbles?” Francis and King both mutter to each other as the chant grows and grows, leading to even more confused looks from both Hardcastle and Raina, and even Reynolds on the outside, who turns his gaze over his shoulder… …as bubbles fall from the ceiling once again!!! “Someone must be listening!” Mak yells as the bubbles begin to swirl around the arena, the crowd cheering wildly as Hardcastle blows a few out of his face and begins to lift the arm of Clark, who has done very little since being locked in the sleeper moments before… …and it drops once!! “Two more to go and the bubbles just won’t matter” King calls as Hardcastle lifts the hand up for the second time …and it drops again! “One more! One more and this nightmare is over!” he continues as Sexton signals for the final drop and lifts the arm… …and it dro---NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! “He’s still alive in this match! The crowd’s voice has been heard here in Seattle!!” exclaims Mak Francis as Clark begins to fight back up from his knees to his feet, doing what he can to try and break away the arms still around his neck. “He still has to get out of that sleeper, Francis!” remarks the King of Hearts as Alan’s eyes open wide and he runs forward, pulling the Crush along with him and spinning his body as he gets to the corner… …slamming Raina back-first into the turnbuckle!! “And the sleeper is broken!!” Mak calls as Alan escapes, dropping to his knees and grabbing at his throat as Raina lays against the ropes and sucks the wind back into his lungs before going back on the attack just as Clark turns back around. “CLOTHESLINE FROM THE CRUSH!!” “NO! CLARK DUCKED!!” “ENZIGURI BY CLARK!!” “NO...SCOTTY GETS OUT OF THE WAY!!” “CLARK LANDS ON HIS FEET!!” THUUUUUUUD!!! “CUTTING IN LINE!! Alan Clark just dropped the Crush with that neckbreaker out of nowhere!!” “AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!” The crowd’s chants grow louder and louder as Alan gets back to his feet and sees the Crush down on his back before leaping up and over the rookie and leaping to the second turnbuckle, once again moonsaulting through the air… …and he connects!! “Walk In The Park! Scotty Raina must feel like he just spent eight hours in line for Space Mountain! And now a cover!! One!! Two!! Threee…NOOO!!! “Raina kicks out just before the three, but it doesn’t look like Alan Clark is done yet! I’m sure he was not happy about being kicked around early on tonight!” “And I’ll bet he was not happy about being pinned last night by a guy named Zack (bleep)ing Malibu, either!” calls the King as Alan pulls Scotty to his feet and throws him back into the corner before moving across the ring, raising his right hand above his head and looking for some love from the crowd… RAAAAAAAAAAH!! The crowd cheers in approval as Alan takes his position in the opposite corner before running full-speed back toward the Crush, cartwheeling through the center of the ring and leaping through the air… “Wreck of the Miss Tilly!!” WHIIIIIFF! “…NOOO!” Scotty ducks at the last possible moment, causing Clark’s legs to strike the top rope, halting the fall of his lower body and slamming his head down into the canvas!! “UGH, what a horrible way to land!” “REPLAY! REPLAY!” King yells as the split screen shows Alan, in slow motion, falling to the mat, his neck bending unnaturally as he lands on the canvas before his body crashes down with it, leaving him in a heap in the corner. “This could be Scotty Raina’s chance to capitalize! I’ve never seen a body bend that way!” “I have.” King says, eyeing his broadcast partner as Walter Reynolds watches on and Scotty looks out to the crowd and then down at Clark, running his hands through his hair before leaning down and pulling Alan up and out to the middle of the ring by his neck, tweaking it a bit more as he walks before turning him around and wrapping his right arm around the neck of the Happiest Guy On Earth… “Schoolboy Crush! Raina could be looking to finish Alan Clark off in the center of the ring!” Mak exclaims as Scotty gets his arm in perfect position and falls back… WHAAAM! “There it is! All he has to do is get his legs locked around Clark and that could be the end of Clark tonight on Smarkdown!” “Clark’s fighting! Clark is FIGHTING!” King cries out as Alan’s body begins to writhe and thrash against the hold, the pain in his neck not stopping his lower body from doing whatever it can to get away. “It’s like a chicken with it’s head cut off! He can’t get the hold locked in!” calls Francis as Scotty finally gives up on his Crush, releasing his hold around Alan’s neck before standing back up… …and falling back down, driving his knee straight into the throat of Alan Clark!! “That’s what he gets for trying to get away! He should do it again!” and sure enough, seconds later Alan gets another shot to his Adam’s apple courtesy of the knee of Raina. Satisfied with his work, Scotty delivers one more straight kick to the side of Clark’s head before moving to the corner and climbing to the top rope, looking out over the sea of Seattle’s biggest SWF fans and takes his leap, bouncing high over the ring as his body flips backwards against the grain… “HEARTBREAKER!!” “After this we might have to call it the Throatcrusher…” THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! “HE MOVED! ALAN CLARK MOVED!!” both The Suicide King and Mak Francis’ eyes are wide as can be as Clark rolls out of the way of the leg drop almost too late, causing the Crush to fall almost six feet straight onto the bottom of his spine! Scotty lets out a yelp of pain as Alan gets to his knees and then to his feet, holding his neck with his right hand as he moves to the ropes, bouncing off and around the seated Raina, striking the rookie’s spine with ludicrous speed… “Gaaaaaah!” Scotty groans once more as Clark’s foot connects, but the Happiest Guy on Earth does not seem to be done as he steps over Raina’s shoulders and spins to his left, circling and sending another hard kick square into the Crush’s temple! “Alan looks to be getting some revenge for those kicks in the opening seconds of the match! Scotty looks to be out on his (bleep)!” “HA!” King points and laughs at Francis as he gets his first censor of the evening, causing him to mumble under his breathe about the FCC as Clark moves to the corner and climbs the turnbuckles, placing himself on the top rope with Scotty below him… “He can’t do this! His neck might have serious damage!! The Crush is too close to the ropes!!” Mak really hopes that Clark can hear him, but alas he can not as he jumps from the top rope and rolls his body forward…looking for a 450… “FAUNTLE—OOOOOH!!” Mak stalls as Scotty is able to roll to grab at the bottom rope and pull himself out of the way, leaving Clark’s body nothing to slam into but the canvas… THUUUUD!! Oooooooooooh!! “This crowd is not happy after t---CROSSFACE!!” Before Clark can even figure out what has happened, Scotty is on top of him, locking his arms around Alan’s neck and hooking his left arm between his legs before pulling back and wrenching the hold in! “He’s got it looked in, Francis!” “He’s too close to the ropes!” Mak calls, and sure enough, after less than ten seconds Alan’s right leg is able to sweep out and catch the bottom rope, leaving Sexton to call for the hold to be broken. Scotty looks over his shoulder and sees the break, only to wrench back harder!! “Yes!” King exclaims as Sexton counts the five… One! Two! Three! Four! “And he finally breaks the hold!” the entire Key Arena watches as Scotty finally releases the Crossface and stands to his feet, showing some displeasure as he pulls Clark back up and moving to the middle of the ring once again, voicing some choice words to Hardcastle before looking to hook on the Schoolboy Crush once more!! “I think he’s got it this time! The ropes won’t save Clark now!!” “You might be right, King…you might be…NOOOOO!!!” Raaaaaaaaaah!! THUUUUUUUUUUD!! “Alan Clark slipped out of the grip of that facelock and before the Crush could react he found himself the victim of a SECOND CUTTING IN LINE!!” Raina’s body crashes to the canvas, leaving both men down on their back in the middle of the ring! “Both men are down now, but Alan Clark looks to be moving!!” Francis calls as Clark uses all the strength he can muster to roll himself over and throw his right arm over the chest of Raina as Hardcastle drops for the count… One!! Two!! Three!!! *DING DING DING* “IT’S OVER!!” “Ladies and Gentlemen…here is YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL…the Happiest Guy On Earth…ALAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!” The Key Arena erupts as the calypso band reappears at the top of the ramp, going right back into their rhythm as Walter Reynolds pulls Alan from the ring. Hardcastle follows, raising Clark’s hand as Walter holds him up and helps him towards the back, leaving the defeated Raina in the ring, still on his back, his right arm wrapped around his neck. “He might not look like much of a winner, but both the rookie Raina and the veteran Clark threw everything they had at each other, and in the end it just might have been a bit of pixie dust…” “…and some (bleep)ing bubbles…” …yes, King, some bubbles…that got Alan Clark the victory here tonight on Smarkdown! We’ve crossed the halfway point, folks, coming up next we have the “Unique Youth” Zyon taking on the Coachroach himself, Landon Maddix…” “…and don’t forget Tom Flesher, Jimmy The Doom, and Jacob Helmsley doing what he does best as of late…defeating Bruce Blank!!” “And do not forget “The Little Mermaid” for the first time on Disney DVD tomorrow!” “You are such a shill…and after this commercial when I can curse again I’m going to be a happy man.” The Suicide King smiles as the TV-G rating disappears and the sounds of calypso take Smarkdown to another commercial break. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 ”Welcome” Sir Marvelous says with a sly grin as he looks straight into the camera ”To another edition of the HOUSE OF MARVELOUS!!” Sir Marvelous is once again standing between the plush luxurious couch (V3 by now?) and the loveseat looking both splendiferous and totally heterosexual all at once. He looks over his shoulder once, then nods as he sees Mr. Bruner in position by the velvet rope. “Now in my time I’ve seen a lot of weird people in this business” Sir Marvelous says and nods for emphasis “And a lot of weird things too and a lot of those weird things have happened since my guest this week entered the SWF.” “Is it me? It’s got to be me” the Suicide King says with a grin, maybe they finally decided to give him the accolades he so richly deserves. “So without further ado I give you Professor Attenborough and the Monster, the Colossus – NEM-E-SIS!!!” Sir Marvelous bellows out while dramatically pointing at the entrance. ¤ BOOOOOOoooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ¤ The entire entrance way is filled with green pyrotechnics as the crowd begins to boo and jeer and roast wieners on the fire. Nemesis comes out only moments later breathing smoke and hellfire like always followed closely behind by the man with the book: Professor Attenborough. “Good maybe now we’ll find out what his problem with Jimmy the Doom is” “Maybe it’s the same problem we all have with him Mak? He’s a weirdo and he needs to go back to his own country” Mr. Bruner quickly opens the rope for Nemesis as the big man steps up on the apron, he even gives the only athlete in the SWF that’s bigger than him a little nod of approval as Nemesis passes under the arch. The Professor quickly joins the big man and Sir Marvelous as the music dies down. “No Professor is it true that you discovered Nemesis?” “Yes, yes that’s certainly true Sir Marvelous I was excavating a cave an..” “Marvelous, simply Marvelous” the host says, cutting the professor off before he could bore everyone with a lame tale of archeology. “And now when he showed up he looked like he was TOTALLY under your control” “He IS still under my complete and utter control” The Professor says curtly. “So--- how would you explain his odd behavior lately?” Sir Marvelous asks, not content to lob softballs at the professor. The crusty old professor stands there for a moment as he tries to figure out exactly what to say, then he grips the book tight once more and answers. “Odd? He’s doing exactly what I’m telling him to do” “So you told him to eat the pages out of your magazine?” “---“ “Professor? While we’re young?” “Yes! Yes I told him to do that alright? He’s totally under my control at all times” The good old professor is starting to sweat a bit, Nemesis is his ticket to stardom and he HAS to control him. “So tell me please, why Jimmy the Doom?” “--- That’s a good question” the sweaty professor says “--- And I’m glad you asked me that very question” “So what’s the answer?” ”I’m afraid that’s my doing” Sir Marvelous spins around as every other head in the arena turns towards the entrance where a man in a brown suit has appeared. “My, my, my International Champion Bruce Blank, what an unexpected pleasure” Sir Marvelous says as he invites Bruce to join them. “Unexpected my ass, they’re tag-team partners after all” Mak says during a quiet moment. Mr. Bruner wastes no time in opening the velvet rope for the International champion. “Now professor--- you say you have full control of him? Yet we’ve got Bruce here claiming he had something to do with it, you wouldn’t call Bruce a liar would you?” “What did you do?” the Professor asks the moment Bruce is within earshot of the old man. “I see he’s not TOTALLY under your control then?” Sir Marvelous says with a smirk. “Well I’ll tell ya Sir M, Prof… it’s simple really. I have recently been restricted from competing in the Hardcore divison, fair enough Peters has his reasons” Bruce says with a shrug of the shoulder “I’m the circus act and he tells me where to perform. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t help OTHERS succeed in the Hardcore division” “WHAT?” Mak asks “WHAT?” The professor asks. “GRRROOU??” Nemesis asks Bruce pulls out a tazer gun and brandishes it at the TV with a big grin on his country bumpkin face. “It’s called conditioned behavior, I read about it in a magazine once.” Bruce says quickly explaining how he’d know such a term. “And well sir, it’s working like a charm on Nemesis” “What’s working?” the Professor complains “What have you done?” “Aw isn’t nothing big, I’ve just conditioned him to have this deep rooted hatred and loathing for Jimmy the Disgrace” Bruce says, the moment the words “Jimmy the Disgrace” passes his lips the smile turns into a frown of contempt. “Why Jimmy?” Sir Marvelous asks “I mean not that you need a reason to kick his ass” “Why Jimmy the Doom? Because Jimmy the Doom is a blight on the Hardcore division, he’s a joke who’s pissing away the legacy and the credibility I built with the Ultraviolent Title! He doesn’t deserve the title, hell he doesn’t even deserve to be in the SWF!!” Whoa talk about someone with deep rooted issues! “Since I’m not permitted legally to challenge for the Hardcore title or even compete in a match where it’d be legal for me to tear out that fools spine out I did the next best thing.” “And what exactly is that Bruce?” Sir Marvelous asks. “I found someone to take my place in the Hardcore division, this Ultraviolent Hell Hound right here” Bruce is naturally pointing to Nemesis and not Professor Attenborough in case you were wondering. “But… but he’s under my control!!” The Professor objects “Sure he is, except if he sees Jimmy the Doom” Bruce says and grins “Then it’ll be like all the “Friday the 13th” movies slapped together and let me tell you something Jimmy can’t kill this Jason Voheers” Sir Marvelous marvels, Bruce grins and the Professor groans as he feels his precious grip on Nemesis slowly erode. “Bruce we had a deal! I order Nemesis to team with you and you help us succeed in the SWF, this is bullshit!” “Bullshit?” Bruce says and does a double take, “Did you say bullshit? Listen here Scooter, I AM helping Nemesis advance in the federation, that boy could dominate the Hardcore division like nobody’s business!” The Professor takes a moment to think about that. “You’re right, I mean who’s going to stop him?” “And with my training and guidance, the training and guidance of the greatest ever Ultraviolent champion HE… CAN’T… LOSE!” “There you have it fans, he is one baaaaaaaaaaaaaaad motha.. “Shut your mouth!” Bruce says. “I’m just talking about Nemesis” Sir Marvelous explains. “Ah, well then I can dig it” “King I’ve got a bad feeling about this” “Really? I don’t I look forward to seeing Jimmy with his head where his ass used to be, could be fun you know?” The Suicide King says giving his endorsement to Nemesis attacks on the Hardcore Champion. Fade out as Sir Marvelous, Bruce and the professor engage in a series of mutual back slapping Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 Zyon vs. Maddix to be edited in. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 (edited) SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial for the Frost-brand engergy drink, Caux: "FILL YOUR HOLE WITH CAUX!" and it would seem that Tom Flesher isn't waiting around, as Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" roars through the speakers, accompanied of course by brilliant blue pyro. BOOM! "Ladies and gentlemen..." Funyon begins. "Wait just a second, Fun-bag! I know you're from around here, but it's not like you'll do a better job in front of your family, so just let a professional handle this!" shouts James Matheson. "Tonight, the soul-crushing depression that comes from living in such a pathetic town as Seattle will be lifted, very briefly, because Tom Flesher is about to step foot inside a wrestling ring. However, seeing as how a freak occurance happened in Toronto, Tom is without a title, so he's looking to put on an abbreviated demonstration of his skill as he takes apart Jimmy the Doom. Sadly, this means that he's only going to toy with the so-called champion for a short amount of time before he defeats that gangly moron yet again and goes back on the hunt for bigger and better titles." Flesher walks down the ramp, slides off his warmup suit and rolls inside the ring. You know, a lot of people don't like Tom, but he's got damn fine taste in music, especially compared to the rest of the roster. Man, I really love Zep. Shame I never got a chance to see them live. "Look, Hall, you heard James, I want to make this quick, so don't dick around, okay?" Tom mutters to the ref. "I sat on my keys, and it's starting to ache a bit." "Tom, you know I always call things right down the middle. If you want this to end soon, you'll have to put in the work." "Like you know anything about that," Flesher mumbles. Damn it, he's trying to piss me off, but I'm not going to let him get to me. I mean, I was in the fucking Breakfast Club! "What do you mean, Tom?" "Well, in the Dead Zone, Walken played the same character in the movie. That means you're pretty much set, since no matter how shitty of an actor you are, and trust me, you're worse than Wes fucking Davenport, there's no way you'll be able to over act Walken," Tom says. Oh, that's it. He crossed the line there. First time he steps out of line, I'm disqualifying him. I'm sick and tired of getting pushed around by guys like him. Don't even know why I still ref since Dead Zone's going so well. "Kashmir" stops suddenly and the lights drop to black. The sound of many marching feet echoes throughout the arena, as does a single word being chanted continuously. Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! The lights come back on to reveal ten druids flanking the ring, and Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" blares over the speakers. Man, why did I have to draw Flesher versus Doom? These two will be going at it all night. Jimmy the Doom walks out, Lois just behind with the Hardcore belt in tow. "And his..." "How dare you?!" Matheson screeches. "It may be Jimmy the Doom, but he's still Tom Flesher's opponent, so you have to do things properly. Well, not you, since you'll only screw it up, but I have to do things properly. Now introducing 'the Superior One' Tom Flesher's opponent! He is a man, like much of the Smarks Wrestling Federation, is winless against Tom Flesher! Additionally, he is being accompanied by a woman that would require at least two bottles of Dalmore Cigar Malt scotch before she becomes mildly attractive. Regardless, Tom's opponent is opponent is the Hardcore champion. Now, consider this fact: as much as Tom Flesher supposedly disrespected the Cruiserweight title, he still cared enough to actually win it. What does it say about the Hardcore belt that Tom's never possessed it? Anyway, the man about to be torn asunder by your Superior One in about five minutes is Jimmy the Doom." Jesus Christ, is Matheson the world's most unpleasant person? A little confused by the scathing introduction, Jimmy clambers up the ring steps and ducks under the top rope into the squared circle. Lois takes a seat next to Funyon, title belt folded in her lap, and referee Anthony Michael Hall begins the illegal weapons check. "Okay, guys, let's try to have a clean match, though I know that you're incapable of that, Tom, so should I just DQ you right now?" "Oh, come on, Mikey, let me see if I can't surprise you," Tom says. Not fucking likely. Not bothering to converse with the unintelligible Doomtopian, Hall signals for the bell. DING! DING! DING! The Straight-Bread Sensation charges Flesher, lowers his head, and nails Tom square in the chest with a Zinedine Zidane headbutt. Tom stumbles backwards, but manages to wrap his right arm around Doom's head, locking in a front headlock. Flesher slips his left arm under Jimmy's right and clasps his hands together. 'The Superior One' arches his back, then pushes Doom forward, putting the Hardcore champ on his BUTT. Flesher slowly lowers himself to one knee, and then snares Jimmy in a body scissors. Well, Tom might be lucky, he's got that Wet Cement hold on tight. I hope he's using a choke so I can disqualify him. Hall drops to the mat to check on Tom's arm placement, but finds everything legit. "Jimmy, you want to give up right now?" Doom waves the referee away, and begins looking for an escape. As Tom tightened his hold on the Straight-Bread Sensation's neck, he thought back to his childhood days growing up in Buffalo. Young Tom spent many an hour with his uncle, Honky Tonk Man Flesher, learning myriad ways to disguise illegal activities, whether it was cheating on tests, or, as the years went by and Tom became more athletic, hiding various objects in his uniforms. A popular technique his beloved uncle taught him was to discretely throw handfuls of dirt into the eyes of baserunners and fielders alike, a tactic which helped lead Tom's highschool baseball team to two straight state titles, then ten years of athletic probation. As he reminisced, Flesher bitterly recalled that it was his uncle, and not his father that taught him these things. In fact, nearly every happy childhood memory Tom had was with his uncle. He could remember precious few times he got to spend with his father, and practically all of them ended in dissapointment on either Tom or his dad's end. "Damn, it, Dad, I tried my hardest! Why couldn't you ever just accept that?!" Flesher shouts, startling not only himself, but everyone within twenty feet of the ring. Upon the outburst, Tom had loosened his grip on Doom's head, and Jimmy, knowing full well he's got little chance to escape on his own, takes the opportunity granted to him. The Straight-Breader shoves against 'the Superior One's' chest, nearly popping his head free, but Tom recovers quickly and clamps down on Jimmy's neck. Hall leaps into action as soon as he notices the choke. YES! Got you now, bitch! "One! Two! Three! Four! Better let go, Flesher! Fi..." Tom slides his forearm up Doom's neck and grinds it on Jimmy's jaw, breaking the choke. God damn it! I need to count faster... "Watch it, Tom, you wouldn't want to lose two in a row, would you?" That'll show that prick. "If I do, will you console me? I mean, you know how to handle loss, since you got beaten out on, what was it, thirty consecutive movie roles?" Tom asks. "Just do your damn job." How fucking dare he?! I was in fucking Weird Science! Trying to ignore Tom's jibe, Anthony Michael Hall checks on Doom's condition, but is waved off once more. Having been born and raised in Doomopolis, Jimmy the Doom was no stranger to wet cement. However, up until his career in the Smarks Wrestling Federation, he, along with every other Doomopolitan, knew wet cement to be a hearty meal, usually served with a potato-based side dish, typically the exotic Potatoes Fandango. Jimmy still wasn't sure if it was a misunderstanding between his country's government and the private contractors that led the building material to be used as a foodstuff, or simply the government looking for a cheap way to feed its citizens. Nevertheless, while trapped in Tom Flesher's wet cement, Jimmy is in quite a pickle, which, coincidentally, is often used to balance the flavors of wet cement and Potatoes Fandango. "Come on, Jimmy, you've got to do something or I'll call this match." "Might as well call it, Tony, it's not like string bean here's going to get out," Tom says. "Mrrpgh!" Doom grunts. Jimmy tries to shove Tom away, but 'the Superior One' isn't going anywhere. Doom quickly changes his approach and begins pulling himself toward the ring ropes. Not so cocky now, huh, Tommy? Tommy, can you hear me? The Who's good and all, but I've still got to give the crown of rock kings to Zep. Probably doesn't help that all the CSI's use The Who for theme music. Dead Zone should use Zep for theme music. The Straight-Bread Sensation continues to drag himself toward the ropes, and he finally is able to grasp the middle cable. "One! Two! Three! Four! Give it up or get disqualified, Tom! Fi-" Flesher drops back and rolls to his left, breaking Doom's grip on the ropes. Damn it! Tom sits up, checks his position in the ring, and scoots backwards, taking Jimmy the Doom to the middle of the ring. The Straight-Bread Sensation throws his hands up and presses them against Flesher's face, trying to pry Tom away, but 'the Superior One' remains solid. Desperate to escape the hold, Jimmy slams a fist into the side of Tom's jaw. However, due to the close proximity, Doom can't get much force behind it, a fact Tom isn't eager to ingore, though. "Come on, Mikey, that's illegal! Do your fucking job!" Flesher shouts. "No closed fists, Jimmy." Fuckin' prick. Like one little punch is so much worse than choking a guy for four seconds five times in a row. The Hardcore champion rears back and smacks Tom with a perfectly legal shotei instead, and then another, and a third, crossfacing him with palm strikes. Jimmy pulls his hand back and jabs it into the sheet of muscle covering Flesher's carotid artery. 'The Superior One' sputters, but keeps his hold locked on tight. "That's perfectly legal, Tommy, so don't even bother complaining." Doom reaches back for another Hand of Doom, but Tom sees it coming and tucks his chin. This results in the tip of Jimmy's middle finger catching Tom flush on the eyeball. "Son of a bitch!" Tom roars. "God damn it, Mikey, do your job and call it!" "Watch those hands." Not so great when it happens to you, is it, Tommy? Upset over the mild warning, 'the Superior One' slides his forearm down, placing it across the Straight-Bread Sensation's neck and clamps down with a choke. "One! Two! Three! Four! Let go or hit the showers, Tom! Fi-" Tom lets go of the choke as his eye continues to water, but only for a moment as he slaps it on again. "One! Two! Three! Four! Come on, Tom! Fi-" Flesher releases the illegal hold and glares at Hall. "This match should be over, Hall. He went right for my eye," Tom complains. "You do the exact same thing three or four times a match, don't give me that shit!" "Not my fault if the other guys don't properly enforce the rules, but I'm telling you to enforce this one right now!" Flesher shouts. Yeah, as if I'm going to kowtow to your every whim. "Hey, Mikey, I'm telling you to call this fucking match right now!" Tom yells. Hall rolls his eyes and drops to check on Jimmy the Doom's condition. "Don't you dare ignore me, you little shit," Flesher grumbles. Ignore you? I'll ignore whoever I want! I was in fucking National fucking Lampoon's fucking Vacation! Tom is left to stew as referee Anthony Michael Hall remains on his knees, intent on noticing any change in the Hardcore champion. Thinking back on it, Tom could only remember one other time he'd been as mad as he is right now. He was seventeen, and his father had once again found fault in his son: 'No, you're doing it wrong! Jesus, I don't know how you ever made varsity with form like that!" Tom's dad snarled as the soon-to-be 'Superior One' demonstrated his hammerlock escape in the basement. 'Oh, and I guess you use Delinger's Technique exactly the way it's shown every time?' Tom shouted back. 'Don't you fucking take that tone with me, Tommy. And, yes, as a matter of fact, I do it one hundred percent right every time, so why can't you?' 'Maybe if you spent the time teaching me instead of just having uncle Honky Tonk Man Flesher do it, I'd be as good as you!' Flesher screamed, then burst past his father and slammed the door. Jimmy the Doom pops Tom in the face with shotei, snapping him back to reality. Caught offguard, Flesher loosens his grip, and the Straight-Bread Sensation pulls his head out from the wet cement hold. The Hardcore champ scrambles to his feet and hangs on to the top rope as he plots out his next move. Flesher, on the other hand, remains seated on the canvas, staring at the Doomtopian. 'The Superior One' starts to push himself off the mat, and Doom sprints for Tom, nailing him with a knee to the head. Jimmy drops on top of Tom and makes a lateral press. "One! Tw-" Almost, Jimmy, almost. Just make sure you kick his ass. Jimmy climbs to his feet and grabs Tom by the wrists. Doom pulls Flesher's torso off the mat, then lets it hang loose just as he slams a boot into Tom's face, slamming him into the mat. Ooh! Curbstomp. I would have been great in American History X. Not that I'm a neo-Nazi, or anything. Wait, why did I have to clarify that with myself? Shit, am I going crazy? I need to focus on this match. Doom lifts Tom off the mat again, and once more stomps Flesher's head into the canvas. Jimmy tries to lift Flesher a third time, but 'the Superior One' yanks down on Doom's arms, resulting in a spectacular headbutt. It also results in Jimmy the Doom on top of a supine Tom Flesher. "One! Two! T-" Fuck it, I should just give Jimmy a fast count next time. Tom shoves Doom away and gets to his feet. Jimmy isn't far behind, though, and he nails Flesher with a shotei. Tom responds with a palm of his own, but the Straight-Bread Sensation lands two quick palm thrusts on 'the Superior One' before he whips him to the ropes. Tom bounces back, and right into a charging, leaping, twirling Doomtopian, and Flesher eats an elbow to the face. Tom drops to the mat, and Doom lands on top of him with a splash. Luckily for Tom, he was on his stomach at the time, preventing a pinfall attempt. However, it allows the Straight-Breader the chance to slam elbows into the back of Tom's head. Hall leans in to see if he can spot and stop any illegal activity. "Sorry, Tommy, nothing wrong with those." Rather than continue with elbows, Doom decides to transition the strikes into a head vice. Oh, yeah, that's going to work. This guy's a moron. "Whaddya say, Tommy, want to call it quits?" "No, I'll take a cue from you, Mikey. You never gave up even after you won Razzie after Razzie for Worst Actor, despite several year stretches of you not even being in anything," Tom replies, ignoring Jimmy trying desperately to squeeze his skull. I should just call this match right now. Of course, Tom will bitch, but it's not like he accepts every legit loss with dignity and grace. Besides, if Peters ends my contract, I can focus more on acting. Still, it wouldn't be fair. Damn my ethics! They stopped me from filing a false law suit against creepy John Hughes, and damn it, they're going to stop me from unfairly handing this match to Jimmy the Doom. "Fuck you, I was in Sixteen Candles!" "What?" Flesher asks. Shit, I said that part out loud. "What was that? You say you give up?" "No! What the hell were you yelling about?" Tom asks. "Never mind, just let me do my job, Tommy. Sure you don't want to quit?" Flesher chooses to ignore referee Anthony Michael Hall and instead grabs Jimmy the Doom's hands and pulls them apart. How dare Tom Flesher ignore me! I was in Pirates of Silicon Valley! Wait, is it silicone or silicon? One's in tits and one's in chips, but I can never remember which is which. Fuck it, I was Bill fucking Gates! Tom gets to his feet, still holding Jimmy's hands, and spins him around. Flesher locks on the straight jacket and pops his hips, slamming Doom's shoulder into the mat. Fuck! Jim better kick out... "One! Two! Th-" Yes! And Tom's still got a chance at losing. 'The Superior One' stands up, and pulls the Straight-Bread Sensation off the mat, glowering at Anthony Michael Hall the entire time. "Nice slow count, Mikey. Did you have to check your fingers to remember which one came next?" Flesher asks. "No, I was just keeping it slow so you'd be able to follow." "Well, I won't matter how slow you count in a minute. I'm getting pissed off, and a pissed off Tom Flesher is bad news for whoever's in the ring with him." Wow, that sounds scary. Tom buries a knee in Doom's gut, then launches him into the turnbuckles. Flesher charges in after the Hardcore champ and nails him with a Yakuza kick. I don't like where I think this is going...I bet the Suicide King's loving it, though. Total man-crush goin' on there. Tom hoists the Doomtopian off the canvas and plants him on the top rope. Flesher backs up a few steps then, then leaps, aiming a shotei at Jimmy's face. However, Doom manages to lean out of the way, and the spin aspect of the Venus palm strike resulting in 'the Superior One' landing with his back to Jimmy. Doom stands on the top rope, lifts his right leg and jumps, planting his boot in the back of Tom's head and smashing Flesher into the canvas. Holy shit! Tom might be right, I could take all day counting to three and he still wouldn't kick out. Doom rolls 'the Superior One' over and makes a lateral press, taking care to hook both of Tom's legs in the process. "One! Two! Three! That's it, match over!" DING! DING! DING! "James, want to take this one?" Funyon whispers to the angry manager. "Screw you, Funyon." "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, the reigning Smarks Wrestling Federation Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyon yells. Jimmy slides out of the ring, meets with Lois, and the Doomtopian couple walk up the ramp to "Yakety Sax" as Smarkdown fades to a commercial for Danny Williams' Strong Style Ribs Nemesis Platter - "Eat like the Hand of the Gods! The Nemesis Platter comes with nine whole chickens, two slabs each of pork and beef ribs, a gallon each of cole slaw and potato salad, and a small beverage." Edited October 4, 2006 by chirs3 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 3, 2006 (edited) It’s all over but the final match, the ultimate contest, the main event if you will. “The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is for the SWF International Title!! Introducing first… “ Funyon starts off as Disturbed’s “Hell” echoes through the Key Arena. “Introducing first from Calgary… Alberta, Canada. He earned a shot at the title by beating the International champion in his return match – THIS!! Is JAAAAAAAAAAACOB HELMSLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!!” The crowd begins to boo the moment the lanky raggedy looking Helmsley steps into the spotlight and then marches towards the ring with a determined look in his eyes. He walks up the steps and enters the ring while tapping his steel pipe against the ring post. Helmsley removes his long black trenchcoat and then adjusts his facemask while waiting for his opponent. “That’s certainly an… interesting facemask Helmsley is wearing King, do you know anything about it?” Mak asks. “Yes I do. It’s a mask and it covers his face” King says. “You’re always so helpful King” “And his opponent: The current SWF International champion. This is BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!” Funyon announces as smoke starts to billow out from the entrance. ”I… AM… IRON MAN!!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! “Bruce is a saint! He’s an example of what spirit and willpower can overcome when you have a burning desire for something” King says. “WHAT??” “He went out there and wrestled on Aftershock despite a really bad eye infection and an elbow injury that would probably have crippled a normal man” King explains as the crowd boos Bruce’s impending arrival. “Oh stop it King!” “Hey a lot of young wrestlers could learn something from Bruce’s dedication to the sport, he’s an old pro” King keeps on extolling Bruce’s imaginary virtues “Give me a break!” Mak moans as he slaps his forehead. “He’s my choice for Inspirational wrestler of the year Mak!” The front end of Bruce’s custom Dodge Charge slowly emerges from the smoke, the image of Bruce as the Reaper captured by the camera as everyone focuses on the entrance. It rolls forward out of the mist, slowly… slowly revealing a guy sitting in the backseat, International title around his waist, smoking a big cigar WAYNE BLANK?? huh.gif The moment Helmsley sees that it’s Bruce’s younger brother in the back seat and not the International himself he turns around. If he had turned a moment earlier he would have seen Bruce come through the crowd. But since the car distracted him all Helmsley can do now is clench and take it as Bruce launches himself at his opponent with a massive shoulder block that hits Helmsley square in the chest. *THUD!!* “YES!! YES!! Come on Bruce you can finish this quickly and go home!” King yells. Bruce hooks one of Jacob’s legs for a quick cover ONE!! TWO!!! But that’s all she wrote as Helmsley kicks out, denying Bruce a quick victory. Bruce quickly gets to his feet and then launches himself at Helmsley once more, this time knocking the Hardcore specialist down with a bone rattling lariat. “He got right up from that! Helmsley’s got AMAZING resiliency” Mak marvels as Helmsley almost no-sells the lariat by getting up pretty quickly after being hit. *THUD!!* A second Lariat hits its mark and this time Helmsley stays down, after all a shoulder tackle and two lariats is enough to make ANYONE stay down even someone as tough as Jacob Helmsley. With Helmsley down Bruce takes a moment to turn to the crowd and rub in the fact that he’s the International champion and there is nothing they can do about it. WHITEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! “He should focus on the match instead of showboating” Mak complains “He looks like he’s doing pretty well Mak, besides how can you argue with his success, after all he’s the second longest reigning International champion that’s no small feat” King counters. “He won’t make it much longer if this keeps up” Mak prophesizes And just to make Mak Francis look really good Helmsley grabs Bruce by the trunks and rolls him up for a surprise pinfall attempt of his own. ONE!! TWO!!! NO MORE!! “This isn’t going to be as short as it was on Aftershock” Mak says stating the obvious fact. “Not with the title on the line no, Bruce is a totally different kind of animal when he’s defending the title than any other night” King replies. “So no eye infection this week King? Was his pre-match hot dogs cooked right?” Mak says making fun of the lame excuses Bruce gave after losing to Helmsley. While Blank and Helmsley have been trading surprise pinfalls Wayne has pulled the four title belts out from the trunk and is now headed over to the announcers table where he deposits all FIVE title belts, presumably for Bruce to retrieve them once he’s won the match. “You’re looking at FIVE reasons why Bruce is my number one guy right now” King says as Wayne lines up the International, the ICTV, the US, the JL World and the JL European title in front of King and Mak. “It’s one title King” Mak says dismissing Bruce’s claim “That’s funny I see five titles, each of them with Bruce’s name on them” “This one has a strip of tape on it with Bruce Blank written on it” Mak says as he examines the Junior League World title. After kicking out Bruce approaches the match a bit more cautiously, not just rushing in to attack his opponent but instead holding back and taking his time. The two men lock up in the traditional collar and elbow tie up that sees Bruce force Helmsley back into the corner due to his superior power. *WHAP!!* Bruce strikes Helmsley over the back of the head with one of his trademark clubbing forearms and then fires off a series of clenched fists to the face and then when Helmsley covers up the face hits the Canadian down low with a couple of kidney shots. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! The big man is relentless, letting fist after fist rain down over his trapped opponent while ignoring any and all pleads from referee Slappowitch to break it up. It’s not until Izzy reaches a count of 4 that Bruce takes a step back, then when Izzy seems to relax a bit Bruce lunges forward with another series of forearm shots and closed fists to the head, to the neck and to the gut. “Man Bruce could turn pro” King says as he enjoys the beating Bruce is administering. “What do you mean turn pro? He’s already a pro wrestler” “I mean a professional Boxer Mak, he reminds me of a young Jacob Tyson” King says with a grin. “Yeah if a young Tyson ate too much greasy food and just went in there wailing away blindly” Mak mutters. “ONE!! COME OUT OF THE CORNER BRUCE!!” Izzy says while raising a finger in the air. Another shot to the back of the head hits Helmsley who’s trying to protect himself from the clubbing blows with little success “TWO!!” Just like “one” “two doesn’t really seem to register with Bruce as he strikes Helmsley in the mid-section. “THREE!! I’M WARNING YOU!!” Izzy says as he tries to push himself in between Helmsley and Blank. “Get out of my face” Bruce snarls. “If you throw ONE more punch then I’m throwing the match out” Slappowitch threatens. Something which seems to just make Bruce smile, after all he’d retain his title that way. “And I’m holding up the title too” Now THAT hit home with Bruce! The champion quickly backs off to not risk his title any further. Slappowitch makes sure Bruce stays back as Helmsley comes out from the corner. The Hardcore Specialist defiantly steps out into the middle of the ring and stares at Bruce. The determination is etched on the challenger’s face, the fire is lit in his eyes – there is no way in hell he’s going to back down from THIS fight. “Helmsley is far from beaten King” “Yeah but you’ve got to admit Bruce is doing a pretty good job of getting him there” With his arms raised, looking for another collar and elbow lock up Bruce moves forward ready to engage his opponent. All he gets for his trouble is a right quick elbow to the jaw as Jacob fakes left, then goes right, ducking under Bruce’s arms after striking the big man in the face. The elbow doesn’t so much hurt Bruce, nor is it supposed to it is more to show that Helmsley is far from done. “See he’s not out of it yet” Mak says with a smug expression. The two wrestlers keep staring at each other, Bruce with a confident but determined look on his face as he stalks his battered opponent while Jacob looks defiant and angry as he faces a man that stands for everything that he hates. They try to lock up once again and once again Jacob fakes left and then goes right – right into a knee from Bruce that is. “You can only outsmart Bruce so many times before he catches on” “Yeah I believe it’s 20 times or so King” Jacob got caught trying to go to the well again and Bruce isn’t about to let up as he grabs Helmsley by the throat and then pushes / throws Helmsley into the corner with a bone rattling thud. ONE!! One massive fist after another is driven into Jacob’s back and shoulder area as Bruce tries his best to pound Helmsley into the ground. TWO!! “He’s risking his title here!” Mak warns Blank “Naw he isn’t not if he stops at four, Slappowitch wouldn’t dare do anything before that” King states. THREE!! Bruce doesn’t even spare Izzy a moment’s notice as he pounds Helmsley down into a seated position covering up as Bruce’s lefts and rights strike him over and over. FOUR!! Bruce backs off before Slappowitch can raise his hand for the fifth time, he doesn’t want to run the risk of being stripped of the title. The moment he backs off Helmsley stands up again and takes a step forward to show Bruce that he can take whatever Bruce dishes out in a display of determination and probably anger too. “How the hell is he even standing?” Mak asks without getting an actual reply back Helmsley defiantly refuses to back down or even acknowledge that he is probably hurt pretty badly and instead just raises his right hand and invites Bruce to “come on” “Amazing, Helmsley is made of stern stuff” Mak gushes “Yeah but he’s Canadian so he’ll fold any minute now.” King replies. The big man decides that he’s not about to let Helmsley show him up and he quickly charges at his much smaller opponent, only to fall straight into a trap as Helmsley leaps forwards and knocks Bruce’s legs out from under him with a shoulder tackle. The tackle is followed up by a quick leg drop across the back of Bruce’s head with Helmsley being a bit off center due to his dazed state. Helmsley does the best he can to push the pain out of his mind, after all he has knocked the big man down and he can’t afford to let Bruce get back up again. KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!! “Are the fans cheering FOR Jacob Helmsley?” King asks in disbelief. “I think it’s more a matter of them cheering AGAINST Bruce” Mak points out While struggling to remain on his feet Helmsley manages to cross Bruce’s legs and then hook his own leg under it to set up for the Indian Death lock also known as the Fear Factor. Helmsley throws all his weight backwards to the ground, wrenching Bruce’s legs and locking the Fear Factor on his opponent. The expression on Bruce’s face is part pain and part rage over Helmsley getting him in such a compromising and painful situation. Bruce tries to reach back and push Helmsley’s foot out of the lock but to no avail, nor can he gouge Jacob’s eyes since Helmsley is prepared for that. Bruce’s face turns red from the pain and the straight but he’s bound and determined to not lose the International title, not like this. Instead of tapping out he gets both arms up under him and then starts to do a press up raising his entire upper body. “Bruce can’t break it that way!” King says speaking from years of experience. “He’s in deep trouble, deep deep trouble King, we could see a new champion crowned tonight” But Bruce didn’t do the press-up to try and power out of the move, instead he uses it to push himself forward a little bit, just enough for him to put his hand on the ropes. ONE!! But just like Bruce Jacob has a problem when it comes to hearing the referee’s instructions as he keeps the move locked on even after Bruce has reached the ropes. TWO!! Helmsley even pretends to have a hard time hearing the referee as he twists the Fear Factor to inflict that last bit of pain on the champion. THREE!! “Payback is a bitch eh?” FOUR!! After four Helmsley untangles himself, he definitely does not want to risk a disqualification tonight since he NEEDS to win in order to take the title home. Helmsley has made good use of the rest he’s gotten and looks much more with it as he waits for Bruce to get back to his feet. Once the big man is up Helmsley rushes him from behind, pushes him into the ropes and then rolls Bruce up for a pin. ONE!! TWOO!!! KICKOUT!!! The kickout propels Helmsley forward, sending him in between the ropes right into the ringpost shoulder first *THUD!!* With his legs still hurting from the Fear Factor Bruce holds back while leaning on the ropes. Helmsley staggers backwards from the corner, clutching his left shoulder after hitting the ringpost. Smelling blood Bruce limps towards Helmsley ready to pounce. Helmsley doesn’t get a chance to orient himself before he’s struck with a vicious lariat to the throat with so much force that it even knocks Bruce down as he sends Helmsley’ ass over elbow *THUD!!* The challenger curls up in the corner, clutching his left arm and pulling hard for his breath after being struck on the throat. While Helmsley is hurting Blank looks like he’s feeling on top of the world, granted he’s limping a bit but he’s massaging his leg to get the circulation going again. After taking a moment to himself Bruce turns back to the attack as he picks his shot and then starts to stomp away on or around Helmsley’s hurt left shoulder and arm, each shot sending waves of pain through his body as Helmsley tries to shield his hurt shoulder as best he can from the kicks. “That’s how quick this can turn around, I thought Helmsley had it, I thought it was in the bag” Mak admits. “Bruce is a sly old dog Mak, he’s got more tricks than a magicians convention” King says like that explains everything. After seven or eight kicks to the shoulder Bruce decides to change tactics and grabs Jacob by the left arm instead. Bruce twists and turns the arm it as he pulls Helmsley back to his feet, making sure he’s inflicting more pain on his opponent with every tug on the arm. Jacob is in a world of hurt, his left arm looks to be weakened to the point where he can hardly use it at all without causing more pain. Despite the pain, despite the immobile arm, his fighting spirit hasn’t been doused yet as he demonstrates by taking a swing at Bruce. The swing misses and he ends up be tossed left shoulder first into the turnbuckle but he’s not out of it yet. Bruce moves in quickly to grab Helmsley by the throat and the tights to hoist the challenger high in the air with a gorilla press slam “I’m sure Helmsley imagined this going a lot better after the last match they had” Mak says once again stating the obvious. “We can’t forget that the last match was a Hardcore match, Bruce has made great strides in adapting to a non-hardcore environment while Helmsley hasn’t really been forced to do that yet” King adds Bruce pumps his arms three times, just to flaunt the fact that he can, before dropping Helmsley chest and shoulder first on the top turnbuckle. The drop causes Helmsley to bounce backwards right into Bruce’s waiting arms once more. Helmsley is spun around and then quickly hoisted off his feet into a power bomb position, once Jacob is up on Bruce’s shoulders he fires off a couple of closed fists to the top of Bruce’s head to break the power bomb attempt. But his desperation tactics are in vain as the big man drops his opponent with a power bomb that drives Jacob back first into the top turnbuckle *WHAM!!* And then flips him forward onto the canvas where he lands on his left arm. “Every move Bruce is hitting is focused on that left arm, Blank is like a shark smelling blood in the water” “You say that like that’s a bad thing Mak, you get an opening and you explore it to the fullest – that’s how it is in professional wrestling. Bruce takes a moment to flex his massive guns, after all he’s in complete control of the match and he feels like celebrating. After a momentary distraction Bruce finally covers Jacob Helmsley expecting a very easy 1-2-3 ONE!! TWOO!!! FOOT UNDER THE ROPE!! “Helmsley lucked out” Says the Suicide King Bruce reaches back and then hooks Jacob’s leg for another pinfall attempt. ONE TWO!! THR-KICKOUT!! Helmsley right shoulder shoots off the canvas before Izzy’s hand can make contact with the ground for the 3rd time. Bruce looks very frustrated and annoyed as he hasn’t been able to put down Jacob for the 3 count after all the punishment he’s administered. Instead of letting his frustrations get the best of him Bruce tries really hard to keeps his focus on the match and on his opponent as to not give Helmsley another open. Bruce pulls Helmsley up by the hair and then whips him into the corner with an arrogant smirk. “Unbelievable!!” Mak says as Helmsley’s fighting spirit flares up again. Jacob staggers out from the corner, cradling his left arm, face contorted with pain, sweat pouring off him like he has been walking the Sahara desert for 40 days but with steely determination and anger in his eyes as he once again invites Bruce to “come on”. Bruce’s face is a picture of disbelief as the much smaller, scrawnier Jacob Helmsley is daring the big man to come at him once while struggling to even stay on his feet. Instead of rushing Helmsley like he did last time and then got trapped Bruce slowly approaches Jacob, spreading his massive arms out to try and keep Helmsley trapped in the corner. “Helmsley is a tough customer, he’s shown that plenty of times but I think he’s about to hit the wall” King says. “He *IS* but you’ve got to wonder how much more punishment he can take before his body says “no mas” King?” Helmsley tries to duck under Bruce’s right arm but instead gets caught around the throat by the Redneck Superman and then thrown, nay hurled up and over the top turnbuckle as Bruce unleashes his awesome power. “One handed over the top rope! What power” King gushes “What an asshole” Mak adds “What a powerful asshole then” King says completing Mak’s sentence. ONE!! Izzy starts to count Jacob out as the challenger is on the ringside mat, holding his left arm and rattled from being tossed over the top rope to the floor. TWO!! The King of Pain just stays in his corner, watching as Slappowitch counts. THREE!! “I’m sure Bruce will be more than happy to take a count out victory” On the floor Jacob Helmsley has gotten up onto his knees although he’s still bent over in agony. FOUR!! “Hey if that means Bruce walks out of here with the gold you know he will, he’ll do ANYTHING to keep the title” King says. Ever so slowly Helmsley gets back up to his feet, staggering as he tries to make it over to the apron FIVE!! “He’s actually up? He’s tougher than a 2 dollar steak!” Mak says. “Yes thank you Jim Ross” When Jacob puts a hand on the apron to steady himself Bruce finally moves out of the corner and heads over to where his opponent is struggling to stay on his feet. Bruce forces Slappowitch to break the count as he reaches over the top rope and grabs Helmsley by the hair. Jacob is forced to climb up on the apron or lose a large handful of hair as Bruce pulls on the Hardcore specialist’s black hair. Once Helmsley is up on the apron Bruce reaches down and grabs him by the cargo pants and then lifts Jacob Helmsley up over his head once more. “Fly Helmsley Fly!!” “Oh no he wouldn’t!! Not into the crowd” Mak laments as Bruce gets ready to throw Helmsley from the ring. Helmsley lashes out before Bruce can throw him anywhere and strikes Bruce in the throat with a straight fingered jab. The jab to the throat causes the big man to drop Helmsley to the canvas behind him as he gasps for air. Helmsley lands on his feet right behind Bruce and right in front of the referee. Even while sucking for air Bruce has enough presence of mind to launch himself backwards into Jacob Helmsley driving him into Slappowitch and then driving both of them hard into the turnbuckles. *THUD!!* “Here comes Izzy’s workman’s comp payout!” King quips. “Will you be serious!!” The impact knocks Slappowitch to the canvas knocking him out from the collision. Helmsley took less of a brunt but the angle of the impact caused him to roll through the ropes and is on the apron clutching his left arm in agony. The big man takes a couple of raspy breaths with his hands resting on his knees before turning his attention back towards his challenger. Bruce is a little surprised to see referee Slappowitch on the floor but then smiles as he realizes what it means. “Oh shit, Bruce has a totally free reign now” Mak says with dread in his voice. “Alright!! Bruce has a totally free reign now” King says with the opposite of dread in his voice. Bruce steps through the ropes with a confident grin, he even takes the time to walk down the ringsteps to spare his still aching legs a bit. After walking down the steps Bruce grabs the top half of the metal steps and pushes it away, then he drags the base of the metal steps away from the ring post with something nasty in mind. “Come on now this CAN’T be right! Peters is going to be pissed” Mak laments. With the metal steps in position Bruce grabs his opponent by the back of the hair and drags him off the apron so that he’s standing chest to chest with Bruce. Blank raises a fist in the air with one finger extended already celebrating his victory, already revelling in the pain he’s looking to inflict… Which only increases the surprise of Jacob Helmsley kneeing Bruce in the guts to bend him over, then swiftly locking on a headlock for a desperation Evenflow DDT the ringsteps. *BLAM!* “HOLY SHIT!!” Mak yells out as Helmsley surprises everyone. “I can’t believe it!” King says in … well disbelief. Both men are still down, Jacob is on the ground holding his shoulder in sheer agony and Bruce is laying there because he just got his head driven into the steel steps of course. Since Slappowitch isn’t recovered enough to administer a count they are not currently in danger of being counted out. In fact there is very little activity of any kind “If that idiot Slappowitch knew how to take a blow we’d be home by now” King complains. “He’s a referee not a wrestler!” Jacob Helmsley slowly gets back to his feet then tries to pull Bruce into the ring as best he can with just his right arm. Helmsley is dragging and pulling as much as he can on Bruce, slowly, ever so slowly succeeding in getting the champion up on the apron. “Bruce is out cold!” Mak realizes. Once Bruce is all the way in the ring he reveals that he’s been over playing his state a bit to let Jacob exert a lot of energy while dragging the big man into the ring, only sightly though as he’s still dazed. Bruce lashes out backwards at Helmsley only to have his arm caught by the challenger, then quickly twisted around into a cradle roll up by Helmsley. ONE!! “This has GOT to be it” Mak states TWO!! “New champion?” THR-KICKOUT!! Blank BARELY kicks out at three and does so more on instinct than anything up really since he’s still feeling the effects of being DDT’ed on the ring steps. Helmsley rolls off Bruce (making sure to roll over his right shoulder) and then gets back to his feet ready to rumble. Helmsley grabs Bruce to pull him up to his feet, Helmsley then tries to hook on the Stalling STO but the moment he tries to use his left arm he doubles over in pain. “AAAAAAAAAAARRRHH!!” Helmsley’ scream is more from pain and frustration than anything else as he’s not physically able to apply the STO, his left shoulder is simply too hurt to execute the move. Working on sheer frustration Jacob knees Bruce in the gut, then hits his patented “Blackout” that knocks Bruce down and knocks him down hard. “I’m amazed at how Helmsley has managed to claw his way back into the match” Mak says. “I knew he could do it, I’ve said so all along in fact we may be looking at a new Champion here” After dropping a couple of knees the side of Bruce’s leg Helmsley backs off a bit and then motions for Bruce to “come on” just to stick it to his opponent once more. Helmsley demonstrates without a shadow of a doubt that he can take what Bruce dishes out and that just because his left arm is next to useless he’s not ready to quit just yet. “Oh there is a lot of fight left in this dog” Mak says drawing on clichés older than dirt. The taunting has it’s desired effect on Bruce it enrages him enough to get back on his feet. At first he staggers but soon rage shines from his eyes as he charges at Jacob like the proverbial Bull in a China shop. Helmsley ducks under the lunging Bruce, the moment the big man turns around *POW!!* DROP KICK TO THE KNEE!! “Bruce’s knee cap just got kicked into the 5th row!” Mak says as Bruce drops to one knee after the blow and then falls backwards into the corner. Helmsley senses his opening and quickly moves in, grabs Bruce by the hair and then Bulldogs the champion in the middle of the ring. The challenger wastes little time in wrapping Bruce’s legs up in the Indian Death lock position before throwing all of his 227 pounds backwards down on the canvas to apply the Fear Factor. “Helmsley has him right where he wants him, Bruce could tap out any moment!” Mak yells out as the excitement gets to him. “This is perfect for Helmsley, he doesn’t have to worry about his shoulder here its all in the legs” Helmsley uses his free foot to help push on the legs thus increasing the strain on Bruce’s legs as he twists and turns them in ways legs aren’t mean to be twisted and turned. Bruce’s face looks more like a gargoyle than a human face right now as it’s so contorted in pain and suffering from the Fear Factor. TAP OUT!! TAP OUT!! TAP OUT!! Helmsley knows that he just has to keep the pressure on and keep Bruce just out of reach of the ropes. The Champion desperately tries his best to stretch out as far as he can and grab salvation, but the rope is two frustrating inches away from his hand and Bruce is not able to crawl closer. “I thought he was supposed to stay in the car?” Mak complains as Wayne leaps out of the Dodge Charger and runs to ringside. Wayne quickly assess the situation and then pushes the bottom rope into Bruce’s hand when Izzy looks away. “He just saved his brother’s hide!” Mak yells out as Izzy makes Helmsley break the hold. Helmsley remains on the canvas after breaking the hold, the pounding he’s taken through out the match is finally catching up with him as he needs a moment before he can even contemplate moving. That turns out to be a mistake as an enraged and agonized Blank rolls over and grabs Helmsley’s left arm, lifts it up so that Helmsley’s elbow is under his own shoulder and then pulls down on it hard with both hands. “ARM BAR!!” King yells out. The angle of the elbow coupled with the damage already done to Helmsley’s left shoulder means that it doesn’t take long before *TAP*TAP*TAP!!* BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Bruce rolls off Helmsley the moment he hears the tapping and then rolls out under the bottom rope to the floor. “Bruce can’t even stand up!!” Mak says as Bruce collapses in a heap on the ground as his legs are too hurt to sustain his body weight. “Yes but he’s still the champion!” King gets in before we hit the end credits. Edited October 4, 2006 by chirs3 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
