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SWF Lockdown 10-12-06

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Live, Thursday, October 12th, from the KINGDOME in Fargo, North Dakota!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)



Michael Stephens ©©© vs. Zyon

-> So maybe Zyon has been slacking recently. At least he was smart enough to do it AFTER he won Contendership to the Cruiserweight Championship! Hopefully all the verbal abuse he's taken from Peters will light a fire under his ass, because against a champion as dominant as 3-© Michael Stephens, the Unique Youth will definitely need it.
Rules: Standard cruiser match.


Bruce Blank © vs. Johnny Dangerous

-> While his protege goes for the gold in the Hardcore Division, Bruce Blank will be defending his gold against the man who at one time defined the International Division! The recently-returned Johnny Dangerous will attempt to take back what once was his, before Bruce's monster reign becomes even more... uh... monstrous...
Rules: Standard singles match.


"The Beast" Gabriel Drake vs. Alan Clark
-> Disney Sponsored Goodness and Satan Sponsored Evilness. It's a mismatch made in Heaven! Will the clean cut Clark be able to cut Drake down to size (while singing "It's a Small World After All"), or will Drake do Six Flags a favor and shut the shill up?
Rules: Standard singles match.


Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © vs. Charlie "Grappler" Matthews
-> These two shared some recent tag team battles... if I recall, the little © next to Landon's name used to be next to Charlie's! And if there's one thing Grappler won't take lying down, it's ©-stealing! Two of our top-tier athletes go head to head for honor, glory, and other noble-sounding words!
Rules: Standard singles match.


Jimmy the Doom © vs. Nemesis

-> It seems Bruce Blank has some issues with Jimmy's hardcore title reign, but a ban on competing in the Hardcore Division has forced Bruce to get creative.

Uh oh.

With nothing more than a tazer and a magazine article, Bruce has been... "conditioning"... Nemesis, teaching him to HATE KILL DESTROY MURDER DEATH anything and everything having to do with Jimmy the Doom! But will it be enough? Enough to topple one of the best Hardcore Champs we've had since Bruce Blank himself?
Rules: The rules of the Doomopolis Street Fight are known only to Doomtopians. I myself am only 4% Doomtopian (on my mother's side), so I am not allowed to see the 10,000 year old scroll written by DooMoses, the rules of the match as related to him by the Gypsy King. We must wait for the show.


Jacob Helmsley vs. Nighthawk
-> After an amazing return, Helmsley's been slipping, but with a stomach flu, who can blame him? The SWF medical staff have just given him a clean bill of health, and he's ready to pick right up where he left off! Tonight, he goes up against Nighthawk!
Rules: HARD-F'ING-CORE. No DQ, no countout, pinfalls count anywhere.


Devin Benson vs. Ced Ordonez

-> New people are awesome.

Unless, of course, they aren't.

Usually they are, though. So the odds are in our favor. Tonight, our newest new person, Devin Benson, takes on our oldest old person, Ced Ordonez! CLASH OF THE AGES! (pun intended)
Rules: Standard singles match.


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Poison Godmachine comes over the loudspeakers and the opening drum beat seems to send a shock wave through the arena. Mak Francis, who wasn’t aware that it was already time for the first match, jumps out of his seat.


“What in the hell was that King,” asks Mak, his vision still blurry and a bit of drool running down his chin.

“There’s no need to fall asleep yet Mak. Devin Benson hasn’t been out to put us to sleep yet,” quirks the Suicide King. “Wake up sunshine,” he says as he slaps his partner on the back of the head to make sure he’s fully awake. “We have to earn our paychecks… no matter how dull a time it will be doing so.”


The red strobe lights light up the arena and Mak’s eyes. He quivers from the light as if blinded by it. When the drum intro is over, Devin Benson makes his way out and does a running corkscrew backflip to get the crowd excited. This is his first time, and you can only make a first impression once. Dev wants to get this over with so he sprints down the ramp and into the ring.


“Weighing in at 190 pounds… from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania… Devin Benson!“


While he waits for his opponent, he jumps around like a child on a sugar high to try and make sure the crowd stays entertained. As soon as Ced’s music hits, however, he becomes motionless so he can save his energy for his opponent.


“See Mak. He’s trying to make our job easier. Trying to shorten the long arduous ordeal for us so we don’t die of boredom before he loses.”


Poison Godmachine comes to an abrupt stop as it is interrupted by Night of Fire.


"Night of Fire!"


The lights go out as the beat of the Niko composed theme begins to excite the crowd. Then…




“And, his opponent, weighing in at 209 pounds… from Sacramento, California… Ced Ordonez… the Bemani Cross Wizard!”




Pillars of flames briefly light up the entrance before disappearing and revealing Ced Ordonez standing on the stage. He fires up the crowd as best as he can before jogging towards the ring. He slides in and promptly makes his way to the far turnbuckle, giving the crowd an obligatory face pose. He hops down and gets in some quick leg stretches before the bell.


“Both men are ready for this match, but will experience beat out youth or will Devin Benson manage a win,” asks Mak.

“Devin will meet his devestator Mak,” says the Suicide King. “Nothing more needs to be said.”


The bell rings and Dev has his back to Ced. Bad idea. Ced dropkicks Dev’s legs out from under him and crushes his chest so hard with a double stomp that his heart skips a beat. The early cover.






kick out!


Dev kicks out a nanosecond before the three count. He wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened until it was almost too late.


“Chalk that up to experience my good man,” says Mak, with a big grin on his face.


Ced picks Dev up and this time Dev catches Ced off guard with a dragon screw. Continuing to attack Ced’s legs, Dev runs the ropes and leg drops them. In an effort to stay on top of Ced, Dev tries to go for the Dev Lab, but when he floats over for the front head lock Ced stands up, lifts Dev up and drops him with a neck breaker to stop all his momentum. When Dev finally makes it to his feet Ced is waiting for him and connects with an enziguri. Dev doesn’t fall immediately but rather stumbles around as if sleeping standing up until Ced dropkicks his legs out from under him again. In an effort to take Dev out of his game Ced continues to go for Dev’s legs like a shark for blood with a cross knee lock. The pain is like a shot of adrenaline directly into Dev’s body and he seemingly jumps to the ropes to break the hold. Another dragon screw is the only move Dev can think of to go for as Ced stands over him, but Ced counters it with his dragon screw leg whip. Dev lays sprawled out and tricks Ced, the wily veteran, into making his way for the turnbuckle. With his back turned to Dev, Ced feels the Stun Gun. Dev’s legs hit the turnbuckle at an awkward angle when he was coming down with the stunner but Dev knows that he won’t get many opportunities like this against Ced so he goes for the pin. 1... 2... No dice!


“Two similar styles are clashing in that ring King. The only difference I can see is experience. Talk about a surprisingly good match for our home audience.”


Dev gets over anxious and attempts to go for the Hevy Devy already and, of course, Ced blocks it and plants him with a DDT of his own for his trouble. After getting the crowd fired up, Ced hit’s the ropes like a flash of lightning and connects with the Powerdrive Elbow! As if one wasn’t bad enough, Ced drives another one home, except this time he drives his elbow into Dev’s knee caps. Trying to finish off the job right then and there, Ced goes for another double stomp, but this time Dev is the wiser and rolls out of the way. Ced’s legs seem to collapse underneath him because of the force he lands with and, as he lays in pain on the mat Dev goes for the Dev Lab once again, but this time he is successful. He gets Ced in the Muta Lock, floats over to the front head lock, stands up and finally drives Ced face first to the mat with a 360 face buster. He feels that he has the upper hand and gets a little cocky. “Welcome to the Dev Lab. My first experiment is Ced Ordonez. Watch and learn.”


“Walk your pathetic self over here Dev and I’ll use you in my own experiment. We’ll see how much pain you can endure and how far I can bend you before you break,” the Suicide King spouts off.


As if to carry out the Suicide King’s experiment himself, Ced round house kicks Dev in the back of the head with deadly velocity as he has his back turned, once again. Rookie mistakes are going to kill this kid, he thinks. Scaling the top rope, Ced points to his prone opponent before jumping off and hitting his senton. Ced goes for the cover and Dev kicks out but only as a desperate attempt to keep Ced off of his ribs, which are killing him right now. Ced comes after him and he rolls around the ring in the fetal position in immense pain. Ced has a good laugh at this and plays along until Dev tries to pull his legs out from under him. His attempt fails and he gets his hand double stomped for his trouble. Ced starts to deal out more punishment with stiff kicks to the abdomen. Something has to stop this onslaught and Dev decides that rolling out of the ring should do the job, but it doesn’t. Ced simply tags along and whips him chest first into the barricade. When rolled back into the ring, Dev holds onto the ropes and looks through them as if he’s imprisoned and they are the bars of his jail cell. Ced tries to pull him off of the ropes by his feet and he holds on until he gets another kick to the chest and falls to the mat with his hands leaving the ropes only to clutch his stomach. He can no longer breathe regularly and coughs up a little pool of crimson in the corner.


“Somebody needs to stop this match. He’s defenseless.”

“Mak, nobody needs to stop anything. This is my experiment. This is the first lesson. Welcome to the SWF my friend.”


The ref gets down on his knees, checks on Dev and asks him if he wants to continue. Using this to his advantage, Dev lifts his leg. His heel connects between Ced’s thighs. Normally, Dev would never resort to this, but this isn’t a normal situation. His current condition and position didn’t allow for any other way of fighting back into this match. A win is a win. His honor isn’t as important as his health or his life. Finally making it to his feet, he connects with the CB3. 1... No dice. He tried to stay in the small package but the pain was too great. His moveset has been heavily altered by this circumstance, but he has learned ways to cope with predicaments like this. He goes back for the head he attacked earlier in the match with his Stun Gun and Dev Lab with his Devine Headbutts. Something snaps inside him and he viciously head butts Ced until Ced’s head and his own are both covered by a crimson mask. Like a bull, he sees red and attacks. Every time Ced stands up, he connects with a dropsault or a step up enziguri. At times he even gets impatient and props up Ced on the turnbuckle just so he can continue to dole out the punishment. His own blood seems to give his vision a red hue and he begins to attack every body part he can. He’ll lock in one finisher, won’t relinquish it until the ref has counted the whole way to five and then rips Ced away from the ropes and focuses on another body part with another submission. This went on for a few minutes until Ced countered a sleeper hold with elbows to his ribs --- probably already bruised and/or broken. The pace of the match grows slower as the loss of blood wears down on both men. Sometimes, when one of the two is down on the mat, the other will take a breather in the corner. Oddly enough, both men choose the same corner to take a breather at each and every time and a small pool of blood starts to stain the mat in that corner.


“Somebody really has to stop this match King. These two are killing each other.”

“Mak. Blood lost is nothing. A match lost is worse than any amount of lost blood for these two. You can lose a pint of blood without being at any huge risk. They’re just donating blood.”


Neither of the two men knows where in the hell they are and they come at each other at the same time, run at each other at the same time and enziguri each other at the same time. Both connect and both fall. The ref starts the count.


























9... And both men get up.


Somehow they both get a second wind and come at each other like a house on fire. They exchange punches until Ced blocks one of Dev’s punches and drops him on his back with a spine buster. Slowly but surely he climbs to the top rope and readies himself for the Fire Soul. He can’t seem to complete the rotation properly and lands almost head first on Dev’s midsection. Dev is prone, but Ced is in no better a condition. Once again, the ref starts the count.


























9... They grab the hammer and get ready to ring the bell, but somehow both men get up and the match continues on.


“They both get up time and time again. Experience isn’t a factor here tonight. Will is. The will to survive.” Mak watches the match as if his own commentary is drawing him into the match more and more. The Suicide King sits motionless and watches the action unfold. He doesn’t seem as enticed as Mak but he doesn’t seem to be falling asleep like he boldly predicted before the match.


Something is in the air and everybody in the arena knows that this will be a special night for both men, no matter who wins and who loses. Dev tries to sinch in a crossface but it isn’t as effective as he might like for one arm is clutching his midsection. He wrenches the crossface in with his right arm as much as he possibly can, but it doesn’t work very well at all. After a while, he uses this as a rest period. He’s on top of Ced so he knows where he is and what he’s doing, Ced isn’t resisting and he isn’t really inflicting much pain with his efforts. Ced seizes the opportunity and rolls Dev into a pinning predicament which he promptly kicks out of. Seconds after kicking out, Dev rolls Ced into a pinning predicament which he promptly kicks out of. Dev and Ced go back and forth pinning each other and with each successive pin they kick out later. When they give up on this endeavor, they crawl to separate corners as if they’re boxing and it’s the end of the round. Fans even, strangely enough, give each of the two men bottles of water so they can get some liquid back in their body to help them continue.


“I guess it’s the end of the first round and now it’s time for the second and final round to get underway,” says Mak, not sure what to think or say. He talks, but he is not conscious to his own voice.


In the ring, both men stand up and use the turnbuckles to steady themselves. When they turn around and see each other they know that they have to finish this match, no matter what the cost. They have to finish it and they have to do their best to win it. The two tie up in the center of the ring and Ced twists Dev around and locks him in a bear hug. He isn’t back to full strength so his bear hug isn’t that painful, but it still isn’t comfortable for Dev and he tries to break the hold. Once he breaks the hold he snap mares Ced to the ground, runs the ropes and drop kicks the back of his head. As if doing the Dev Lab in reverse, Dev applies a front headlock and transitions to the Muta Lock from it. The pain wakes Ced up and he manages his way to the ropes. He wishes he had reached them quicker, however, because he can feel the strain of the Muta Lock even after Dev has relinquished the hold. Standing up slowly, Dev tries to pump up the crowd. He can’t jump around like he did before the match, but he still manages to pump up the crowd. Standing in the corner, as if waiting for his prey to fall into his trap, Dev puts his hands on his thighs and waits for Ced to get back up, as he surely would. This match had shown Dev that Ced isn’t going to keep coming no matter what. Ced stands up and he is charged but he escapes the spear and sends his opponent into the turnbuckle shoulder first. He speared the turnbuckle, but it didn’t give like human flesh and when he hit he heard a popping sound. Once he rolls out of the ring, he puts his own shoulder back in place and slides back into the ring as if pleasure had replaced his pain. Once again, the two bulls lock horns and this time Dev gets the upper hand. A wrist lock suplex brings his opponent to the ground and the ref gets down on the mat for the count.








Shoulder up!


Dev forces the shoulder back down and the ref starts the count again.





2... Shoulder up.


He knows these pinning attempts aren’t going to get him anywhere so he stands up, crosses Ced’s arms in a choke of sorts, lifts him up and drops him back first on his knee. Staying on top of his opponent and his game, he locks in the Dragon Sleeper on his opponent. Ced’s arms begin to flail with a newfound energy and when the ref checks to see if he is going to submit he gets hit with one of the flailing arms and falls to the mat. Ced can’t get out of the hold and he fades. Ced is out cold and for some reason Dev doesn’t let go. When he notices that the ref is down he releases and starts to lightly kick the ref hoping his pokes and prods would wake him up. Once he comes to the conclusion that the ref won’t be getting up any time soon he goes back on the attack. He knows of one move that could insure him the win, but he is apprehensive about trying it. He climbs up to the first rope and looks back at Ced as if fearful of him moving out of the way. When he climbs to the second rope he looks out into the crowd and sees them cheering him on. Finally, when he climbs to the top rope he knows that it is do or die time. He doesn’t look back at Ced because he can’t waste time and he jumps. It’s the Man on the Moon! Ced tries to roll out of the way but he gets caught with Dev’s legs. It’s a Catch-22. Dev has the wind and possibly even the life knocked out of him but he knocked the wind out of his opponent at the same time.


“Talk about a Catch-22. Now everybody’s out. The ref is out, Dev is out and Ced is out. These guys have been stretched beyond their limits already but their limits mustn’t be limiting them anymore because they’ve gone above and beyond them already.” Mak looks at his partner, the Suicide King. “Do you think either of these men has the upper hand King?”

“Shut the hell up and watch the match,” bellows the Suicide King.


The ref is to his feet but the two wrestlers still lie motionless. He begins his count.






















The hammer is raised to ring the bell but, seemingly out of nowhere, Ced and Dev grab his hand and rip the hammer out of it. This match isn’t over yet. Back in the ring they go. It seems they’ve come back from the dead. It’s the third and final round and this one is going to be a great one. Dev goes for a kick, Ced blocks it and goes for the leg whip but Dev counters it with a dragon screw. Taking this advantage, he tries to lock Ced in the Deviant, but Ced kicks him in his temple. Trying to take advantage of this, he climbs to the top rope, hoping to hit the Fire Soul… but Dev shakes the ropes and he falls crotch first. Dev tries to throw him from the top rope every way he can. He shakes the ropes, he tries to pull him off, etc. None of this works so he climbs to the top rope, grabs his arm, and jumps as if he is trying to go for a twisting arm breaker off the top rope, but Ced just pushes him down and comes down on him with the Fire Soul!





2... No dice!


Not only does he kick out, but he also grabs Ced’s arm and tries to rip it out of its socket. He somehow manages to roll on top of Dev for a pin attempt, but Dev still has a grip on his arm.





2... Kick out and back to the arm breaker!


The hold is broken when he reaches the ropes and Dev is broken when he lands a roundhouse kick that brings Dev to the ground. Ced tries to pin him but he gets tripped up by Dev and put in the… DEVIANT! He can’t escape. There’s nowhere for him to go. No way for him to move. He feels as if he’s paralyzed. He struggles not to pass out. He can’t tap. Not now. Not like this. He grinds his teeth in pain. Even if he wanted to tap, he couldn’t because his arms are locked behind him. The ref asks him rather plaintively, “Do you give up?” Time and time again he tells the ref he doesn’t give up, but when Dev sits back as far as he can he feels as if the pain is forcing his mouth to voice the words. A bell rings… or maybe it’s his own shrill screams.


Your winner…



Devin Benson!


Devin Benson has his hand raised in victory but he pulls it down as he can’t stand the pain. His shoulder still aches. His whole body aches and he tastes a mixture of his spit and blood. With a victory, it now tastes sweet.


“The newcomer has proven himself. Nobody will doubt him from here on out,” says Mak, applauding both men’s efforts.

“He hasn’t proven **** Mak,” says the Suicide King.


Poison Godmachine comes over the loudspeakers again and Devin goes to the back to get some medical attention. Ced passed out in pain when the bell rang and when he finally comes to he hears Poison Godmachine blaring and knows that it means he lost. It was a hard fought match, but none of that matters. All that matters is that he lost. The taste of defeat isn’t so sweet.

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SWF Lockdown returns from its previous commercial break, returning live to National Television from the King-dome in Fargo, North Dakota. The camera cuts down to the announcers as they prepare for action!


“Welcome back to Lockdown!”


“I am the Suicide King and this is Paralyzed McGee!”


“Mak Francis…”


“Stryke is in the ring and his opponent is an angry Spike Jenkins!”



~ Fast forward a bit because full time school and work suck. ~



Spike kicks Stryke in the head and pins him.






Spike wins.

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“We’re back on Lockdown” Mak calls out as the Kingdome comes back into view in all it’s awesomeness. “We’re just one mere match away from the big Hardcore Championship match between Jimmy the Doom and Nemesis, but what better way to get ready for that match with...” Mak begins, only to be cut off by the King. “…a jobber and a newbie?” Mak rolls his eyes at his partner. “Well I was going to say a hardcore match. “It’s still the same thing… a hardcore match between a jobber and a newbie.” King reiterates his point.


Before the two can say anything else, the arena goes completely dark, save for the lights in the hallways and aisles. Accompanying the sudden darkness, Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” kicks off suddenly, a giant tower of flames blasts out from under the entrance stage, dousing the arena in a dark red hue. When the smoke clears around the entrance ramp, the giant silhouette of Nighthawk can be seen slowly making his way out from the backstage area into the arena.


“Ladies and Gentleman!” Funyon booms out on his microphone “The following match is a hardcore match scheduled for one fall! Now coming to the ring, standing at six feet eight inches and weighing in at two hundred and eighty-five pounds, he is NIGHTHAWK!”


“Damn that’s a big dude…” Mak states as Nighthawk can be seen slowly walking down the ramp to the ring area. “I’ve seen bigger.” King simply replies.


After what seems like an eternity, Nighthawk finally arrives at the ring and climbs over the top rope into the ring where he just simply walks over to his corner and awaits the entrance of his opponent. Nighthawk’s music suddenly cuts off, giving way to the blasting chorus of “Hell” by Disturbed. After about 20 seconds, Jacob Helmsley walks out onto the entrance ramp with his pipe in his left hand and begins to swiftly make his way down to the ring.


“Now coming to the ring, standing at six feet five inches and weighing in at two hundred and twenty seven pounds, JACOB HEEEELMSLEY!!!!” Funyon booms out, quickly making his exit from the ring immediately thereafter. Various boos can be heard throughout the audience, but a good number of cheers can be heard from all parts of the arena, as people are starting to like the man more and more for some odd reason.


“Jacob seems to be wasting no time getting this match underway!” Mak points out as Jacob increases his pace to a dead run, causing Nighthawk to get ready for his opponent. Before he hits the ring, Jacob throws off his trench coat and drops his pipe. Jacob slides under the bottom rope and immediately hops up to his feet, going right after Nighthawk. Nighthawk immediately rushes forward and attempts to use a strong clothesline to gain an early advantage, but Jacob wisely ducks under the attempt and begins and at the same time fires a stinging right hand into the soft gut of Nighthawk, catching him completely off guard. Jacob follows up by grabbing a hold of Nighthawk’s top and pulls him backwards as Jacob kneels down to one knee. Nighthawk falls down backwards, connecting solidly with the knee that Jacob has outstretched, sending pain shooting up his spine.


“Very nice kneeling backbreaker from Jacob to start off this match!” Mak reports. “I’ve seen better…” King responds. “Are you going to contribute anything worthwhile to this match?” Mak asks his partner. “Of course I will.” King answers. “Well when?” Mak inquires. “When I feel like it you nimrod!” King angrily fires back.


Before Jacob can even consider covering Nighthawk, the big man props himself up on one knee, holding his back in pain and attempts to climb up to his feet, only to be intercepted by Jacob, who ‘helps’ the bigger man up the rest of the way. Jacob pushes Nighthawk against the ring ropes and launches him across the ring with an irish whip. Upon Nighthawk’s rebound, Jacob attempts to hit the man with a standing sidekick but Nighthawk ducks under the attempt and continues on to the other side of the ring, bouncing back and proceeds to absolutely level Jacob with a huge clothesline.


“Ooh… that’s going to leave a mark!” Mak cringes a little from the impact of the clothesline. “If this keeps up Jacob’s looking at yet another short night.” King adds in.


With Jacob still feeling the affects of the clothesline, Nighthawk uses the opportunity he has to climb out of the ring and begin his search for a suitable weapon to use against his smaller opponent. After a brief search under the ring, Nighthawk produces a steel chair. Satisfied with his find, Nighthawk slides back into the ring and begins to stalk the slowly rising Helmsley with the chair in hand.


“Looks like Nighthawk is going to pull a Drake… just beat the man senseless with the chair to win!” King gleefully states.


When Jacob finally reaches his feet, Nighthawk lunges forward with the chair in hand ready to strike Jacob, but Helmsley quickly throws his hands up into the air, catching the chair before it strikes his head, causing the two men to come to a deadlock with the weapon dangling above them. Nighthawk, with the superior strength, seems to be getting the advantage in the deadlock, but before he can get the chair loose, Jacob kicks him sharply in the gut, causing Nighthawk to wince considerably, but still maintain his death grip on the chair. Jacob shoots another kick up towards Nighthawk, but this time it is in between the man’s legs, catching him squarely in the crotch, causing him to instantly release the chair and bring his hands down to try to ease the throbbing pain in between his legs. Jacob seizes the advantage and swiftly brings the metal chair down upon the vulnerable skull of Nighthawk with a sickening CRACK!


“OOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!” the crowd echoes in unison as Nighthawk comes crashing to the floor in a heap.


“What a chair shot!!!” Mak calls out. “I have to admit, the little cheater did bring the big man down pretty effectively.” King compliments.


With his opponent down on the ground, Jacob continues to blast away at the prone body of Nighthawk with chair shot after chair shot, hitting him everywhere he can possibly find, causing Nighthawk to convulse with each hard blow upon him. Jacob continues to viciously pound away at Nighthawk until the chair he holds is no longer useful.


“Jacob has gone nuts!” Mak cries out. “Come on Mak… that kid is already nuts.” King corrects him. “Uh oh… looks like Nighthawk is already bleeding from that killer chair shot…” Mak points out.


Panting heavily from repeatedly swinging with all of his strength, Jacob stands there surveying his opponent, who has a small trickle of blood streaming down his face from a small cut on his forehead. Seeing this blood like a bull, Jacob immediately drops down to his knees, grabs Nighthawk’s head and begins to pound away at the cut with his fists, making it just a little bit wider with each blow. After four sharp blows to the wound, Jacob lifts Nighthawk up to his feet and again whips him across the ring, but surprisingly Nighthawk seems to find enough strength to reverse the whip, but this time pulls Jacob back towards him and executes a crisp T-Bone Suplex.


“Looks like Nighthawk still has some life left in him!” Mak calls out. “He may not have a lot of blood in him though if that wound gets any bigger…” King adds on.


Following in Jacob’s footsteps, Nighthawk grabs Jacob’s head and begins to pound away at his exposed forehead above his mask with every bit of strength he can muster as Jacob tries to cover up to some degree. After eight hard shots to Jacob’s head, Nighthawk lifts the psycho up to his feet and simply tosses him out of the ring between the middle and top ropes causing Helmsley to hit the floor hard. Nighthawk simply rolls out of the ring in mild pursuit, but is met by a stinging fist from the now up and mobile Jacob Helmsley. Jacob attempts to whip Nighthawk into the steel steps, but Nighthawk is just too powerful for him and reverses the whip, sending Helmsley crashing shoulder first into the steel steps.


“You know… one of these times Jacob will realize that Nighthawk is too strong for him to whip.” King pokes fun. “Possibly, but it looks like things are really turning around to Nighthawk’s favor.” Mak replies.


With the blood still streaming down Nighthawk’s face, the big man reaches down and lifts Helmsley back to his feet, where Nighthawk proceeds to grab Helmsley’s long hair and slam his head right into the steps, causing his face to literally bounce off the cold steel. Two more hard shots like that follow, causing Jacob to start bleeding himself from a gash 2 inches above his left eye.


“Now Nighthawk has made Jacob bleed!” Mak reports. “Well, fair’s fair…” King points out.


Not yet content, Nighthawk pulls Jacob’s head back for one more huge blast, but before Jacob’s head can connect, Jacob puts both of his hands out to stop himself and quick fires an elbow into the midsection of Nighthawk and proceeds to ram his head into the steps in a retaliatory shot. Jacob wipes the blood away from his eye enough to allow him to see as he goes off in search of a weapon. Helmsley rounds the ring to the ropes that face the entrance ramp and immediately dives under the apron in search of the perfect weapon to use, but in the meanwhile, Nighthawk has already found his own. With his own steel talon glove over his right hand, Nighthawk walks over to Jacob, who is too busy pulling out a table from under the ring to realize that he is in real trouble.


“This is going to be good…” King anticipates as Nighthawk gets closer to his victim.


Nighthawk raises his right hand high into the air ready to bring it down upon Helmsley’s prone back, when all of the sudden Jacob unleashes a weapon of his own… his signature steel pipe… and slams it into the midsection of Nighthawk, doubling him over in extreme pain. Taking advantage of the situation, Jacob jumps into action, placing Nighthawk’s head between Jacob’s legs in a vaguely familiar position. Jacob lifts Nighthawk up into a power bomb, but stalls halfway through, letting the big man just dangle precariously in front of Jacob. After five seconds of stalling, Jacob jumps up and comes down on his knees, slamming Nighthawk’s neck down viciously upon the ground, causing the man to go completely limp from the impact, much to the glee of the capacity crowds.


“OH MY GOD! Jacob just absolutely destroyed Nighthawk with the old Black Stallion!” Mak cries out. “Damn… I guess I was wrong about Helmsley having a short night…” King retracts his statement before.


Jacob simply rolls over on top of his motionless, but heavily breathing opponent as the ref drops down to count.








“There you have it!” Mak roars out over the tremendous cheers from the crowds. “Jacob Helmsley came into Fargo with a mission to get back on the winning track and certainly did that against Nighthawk!” he adds on. “Quite impressive from Jacob… I didn’t think he would stand much of a chance against Nighthawk, but he certainly proved that he’s tougher than he looks.” King adds on.


“Hell” by Disturbed blasts out over the PA system as Jacob slowly rises to his feet, still clutching the steel pipe in his hands. Jacob simply stares down at the fallen body of Nighthawk for what seems like an eternity, until suddenly Jacob viciously begins to wail upon the fallen form once again with the steel pipe, beating him mercilessly.


“Oh come on now… is that really necessary???” Mak vocally protests.


With some unknown rage fuelling his strikes, Jacob continues to swing and swing and swing, absolutely pummeling the fallen man with shot after shot, causing him to convulse violently with each shot.


“Jesus Christ… get some help down here now! Stop him!” Mak desperately calls out to the back. After what seems like an eternity, Referees swarm out from the backstage area, desperately trying to pull the psycho off of his helpless victim. As the referees begin to wrap themselves around Helmsley, he begins to wildly swing his pipe left and right, catching one of the referees squarely in the jaw with the pipe and jostling himself loose from the rest of the bunch. Still fuming, Jacob turns to the fallen referee and begins to viciously beat the hell out of him with the pipe, striking him multiple times in the stomach and upper chest area with devastating blows with the steel. Finally after the helpless referee is simply curled up in the fetal position with bloody bruises all over his body, Jacob slides the pipe into the holster on his belt, grabs his trench coat and makes his exit.


“Oh my god… that was just…awful. Who the hell knows what fuelled that onslaught from Jacob?” Mak states, almost speechless. “I don’t think Jacob even knows why he did that… but there will be repercussions for damn sure.” King replies. “Well, believe it or not we still have more action to come on SWF Lockdown, including the SWF Hardcore Championship match, which is next.” Mak emotionlessly states as EMS personnel swarm over the bloody and battered forms of Nighthawk and the unfortunate referee, while Jacob simply disappears behind the entrance curtain.

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Lockdown returns from a commercial for Danny Williams' Strong Style Ribs' new Birdman Chicken Cutlet Chunks (Danny Like Alliteration!) and intrepid camera man Gus pans around what was once part of Fargo, North Dakota, but is now the perfect site for a Doomopolis Street Fight. Pumice and obsidian chunks litter the ground, while burning drums of mothballs and styrofoam provide the only source of light.


"Welcome back to Lockdown, folks! We are live from..."


"My arena, the Kingdome! Sadly, my arena is stuck in North Dakota, but plans are underway to secede," King says.


"And tonight, from the Kingdome, we've got a great card, absolutely brimming with title matches. Later on, we'll see Bruce Blank defend his International title against Johnny Dangerous, and in the main event, Michael Stephens puts his Cruiserweight belt on the line as he takes on Zyon. But first, we've got a Hardcore title match. Nemesis doesn't seem to be very fond of Jimmy the Doom, thanks to some outside stimulus by Bruce Blank, and now the Hand of the Gods will try to smite the Straight-Bread Sensation and earn some gold in the process. However, I'm not exactly sure how he'll be able to do that, in fact, nobody is certain on the rules of this match," Mak says.


"Why should they be? Like anyone gives a shit about Doomtopia," King says.


"Well, I'm sure Jimmy does, but you probably don't care. Anyway, a section of Fargo has been blocked off and been turned into what I've been told is a semi-accurate reproduction of a typical Doomopolis street. The buildings apprear to be made of Leg...I mean, Doomgo, and touching the ground is perhaps more dangerous than touching Courtney Love," Mak says.


"Don't forget, those burning mothballs and stryofoam can't be good for either man. All in all, this is probably a lawsit waiting to happen."


As Gus wanders down the street, the fires are quickly doused, and the low rumble of a dolphin being hit with a pig echoes down the street. A blacklight, stolen from one of those investigative news shows to disgust viewers by showing exactly how much semen can be found in a hotel room sparks to life. As Gus curses his laundry detergent of choice (He seriously thought the mustard stain had come out), the gigantic figure of Nemesis stomps from the northern end of the street (Also known as the totally Jerk side in Doomopolis, because that's where all the totally gigantic jerkstores come from) The barrel fires are quickly relit, and Professor Attenborough peers around the corner, not particularly wanting to be in close proximity with Nemesis and Jimmy the Doom.


"Ladies and gentlemen, the follwing match is schedulde for...for a Doomopolis Street Fight for the Hardcore title! Introducing frirst, the Hand of the Gods, Nemesis!" Funyon shouts from the safety of the Kingdome, feeling kind of like a jackass at introdcing a match he's not event present for.


"Yes, a Doomopolis Street Fight, how very arrogant of you, Jimmy the Doom!" Attenborough shouts at the currently absent champion, but the Professor isn't one for details. "Mister Doom, you are far too pretentious. This firece Doomtopian pride has corrupted you! Is Fargo not good enough to play host to your title match? And let us not forget that moniker you so desperately demand to be called by, 'Straight-Bread Sensation.' What gives you the right to hold yourself above all others that follow the tenents of the straight-bread philosophy? Jimmy the Doom, for these and many more acts of Hubris, the gods have decreed that you shall feel their wrath!"


"Wait, the Professor is mad because Doom goes by 'straight-bread sensation'? But 'Hand of the Gods' is fine and dandy?" Mak asks.


"Well, it's not presmptious, like Doom's nickname. It's the truth!"


Nemesis waits in the middle of the street, as a triple stack of donkeys is led to block off the north side. The barrels are extinguised a second time, and heavy footfalls sound down the street.










The druids relight the fires, showing them to stretch from one end of the street to the other. At the sight of so many cloaked figures, Nemesis loses it, and begins slamming fist after fist into each hooded figure. Suddenly, "Yakety Sax" strikes up, but it's not the regular version. That can be explained as it's Jimmy the Doom, strumming the song on his five-string frying pan, running down the street.


"And his opponent, the champion! From Doomopolis, Doomtoopa, the Straight-Bread Senation, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyn roars.


Doom speeds down the street and leaps, nailing Nemesis in the head with his frying pan/musical instrument.




Doom cracks the mammoth man a second time, but the giant barely registers the blow. Doomtopan official Breathstab Awesomeasaurus (Pronounced Ted Nugent) quickly intervenes, forcing each man to an end of the street. Breathstab glances at Doom and notices the frying pan. He then checks Nemesis, but can't find a weapon. Shrugging his shoulders, Awesomesaurus takes off his left shoe and hands it to the Hand of the Gods. With both men thusly armed, the official signals for the match to begin.




"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!" shout the Gypsies littered on the rooftops


Doom charges Nemesis, pan held high, and the Colossus follows suit. Ten feet away, though, Jimmy thinks back to his training with fastpitch softball legend Jenny Finch, and whips the pan underhand, hitting Nemesis square in the crotch.




"That had some veloicity on it, and I don't think Nemesis will be able to have any baby Hands of the Gods," Mak says.


"Unless he, like rproduces via budding or something," King says.


Nemesis hunches over, as even a giant monster smashy guy can get stopped in his tracks by a nut shot. Doom presses forward, but Nemesis reaches out, jabbing Breathstab's shoe in Jimmy's mouth. Doom takes a step back, but Nemesis bulls forward, knocking the Hardcore champion to the ground, where he slides about four inches before grinding to apainful halt on a lump of volcanic glass.


"Sul-fur nip-ples!


Sul-fur nip-ples!


Sul-fur nip-ples!


"That's got to be painful. Then again, maybe Jimmy's used to sliding across glass and rocks and whatnot," Mak says.


"Well, that's a totally unfair advantage, and I don't think that's right." King says.


"Unfair advantage? Didn't you once wrestle in a First Blood match and wear a fencing mask?" Francis asks.


"No, but that would have been genius. I just paid off a referee here and there," King says.


Nemesis straightens up waits for Doom to sit up, and then boots the champion in the face.




Nemesis plants a huge boot on Doom's chest and if we was waiting for Breathstab to count the pin, Nemesis would be sorely disappointed, as Awesomeasaurus remains motionless.


"What a load of crap! That's pure Doomtopian bias!" King roars.


"Or, maybe, pinfalls don't matter or count in a Dooompolis Street Fight," Mak offers.


"Bullshit, they always matter. Unless it's a battle royale, or an I Quit Match, or a No Gravity Match, or, like fifty other match types, but it should count in this!"


The Colossus decides to stretch his legs seeing as how he's on Doom to begin with, and treads on the Hardcore champion. After five quick laps, the giant steps off and hauls Doom to his feet. Nemesis slaps on a claw hold and shoves the Straight-Bread Sensation into a glowing steel barrel, knocking it over and spilling the burning mothballs and styrofoam.




The Doomtopian rolls off the drum, extracts the shoe from his mouth, and picks the drum up off the ground. Jimmy backs up a step and then heaves it at Nemesis, who easily catches it in mid-air. The Hand of the Gods raises the empty container high above his head, preventing the stock 'dropkick weapon into person's face' moment that anyone with half a brain should see coming, but opens himself up for a dropkick to his left knee. Nemesis buckles slightly, but finds himself in prime position to slam the barrel into Jimmy's chest.




Nemesis smashes Doom a second time with the barrel before rising to his feet.




"What's that monster going to do now? This match could be bad news for Jimmy the Doom because at least in a standard match, a pinfall can end everything, but nobody knows how to finish this one," Mak says.


"While that is true, there is the possibility that Nemesis will unknowingly do something to win this match before he has a chance to crush Jimmy into a fine powder," King says.


Nemesis picks Jimmy off the ground and roughly shoves him inside the empty barrel. The Colossus grabs Doom by the hair, yanks his head to the side, and rains down a mighty chop to the Straight-Bread Sensation's neck.




"Force the waffle!


Force the waffle!


Force the waffle!"


Nemesis picks the Doom-filled drum up with ease and hurls it into the side of a building, knocking a few Doomgo bricks loose.




Nemesis stalks over and kicks the barrel over, spilling its Doomtopian contents on the street. The Hand of the Gods shoves the Hardcore champ back inside, picks the drum up and slams it violently into the ground.




Nemesis holds the barrel above his head, backs up to the barrier donkeys, and runs down the street. The Hand of the Gods tosses the Jimmy-in-a-barrel towards the other side of the street, slamming Jimmy into the southside wall.




"Dou-ble mon-key!


Dou-ble mon-key!


Dou-ble mon-key!"


"What an absolutely brutal assault on the Hardcore champion!" Mak shouts. "Smarkdown might end with more than the Hardcore title lost for Jimmy the Doom."


"Hey, maybe you're right! This might actually be a Doomopolis Death Match, and damn it, when Doomopolis says Deathmatch, they don't fuck around," King says.


Nemesis walks towards the battered champion, grabs a handful of hair, and begins to pull him out of the barrel. Jimmy looks up and lashes out with a wild Hand of Doom, then another, causing the Colossus to drop his quarry.


"It looks like Jimmy the Doom is starting to fight back! Those Hands of Doom seem to be affecting the Hand of the Gods," Mak says.


"Yeah, right. Like Nemesis is going to be bothered by some shitty little throat strikes. He's not JJ Johnson for Christ's sake!" King exclaims.


"Wait, don't you say how the Hand of Doom should be outlawed pretty much every week due to the danger of causing another Johnson-like incident?" Mak asks.


"Yes, so, obviously, Doom should be disqualified," King says.


Frantic, Doom begins peppering Nemesis with Hands of Doom, slowly driving the Colossus back a step. Jimmy scrambles away from the monster, scoops up the dented barrel, and throws it high in the air. Nemesis goes to catch it, and Jimmy dives low with a basement dropkick. Nemesis buckles, regains his balance, and then smashes the drum into the ground, narrowly missing the Doomtopian.


"Eat my sleeves!


Eat my sleeves!


Eat my sleeves!"


"That was close for Jimmy the Doom. He already went for a low dropkick and paid for it, but this time he managed to roll away just in the nick of time," Mak says.


"Man, how dumb can Doom be? Not just because of getting smashed earlier, like you said, Mak, but this is glass and rocks on the ground. Only a fucking moron would willingly and purposefully put his body on the that stuff," King says.


Jimmy scrabbles to his feet and wacks Nemesis with a kick to the knee. Doom lashes out with another, and then a third that finally brings the Hand of the Gods to a kneeling position. Doom closes in and smacks the Colossus with palms, elbows, and headbutts, severely roughing up Nemesis' leather mask. The big man slowly recovers from the assault and slams a giant fist into Doom's stomach. Nemesis pulls himself up (With some unwilling help from Doom), and takes a firm hold of Jimmy's head. Nemesis rears back for a headbutt, but Doom slams a knee into his leg. Jimmy cracks Nemesis in the patella with a kick, and snakes a Hand of Doom directly upwards, freeing himself from the Hand of the Gods.


"Jimmy the Doom is finding the going tough with such a big man, and he's just got to follow the age old strategy of sticking and moving. He can easily outstrike Nemesis, probably his only hope of winning, but he can't stay around to get hit back," Mak says.


"I don't know, Mak. We always talk abouthow tough Jimmy is, so I think he should try and match Nemesis punch for punch," King says.


Jimmy slips behind Nemesis and plants a kick in the back of the big guy's right knee. Doom follows up with a kick to Nemesis' left knee, and as Nemesis whips around, Doom keeps close to the Colossus and turns with him.


"Didn't I see this once in a Bugs Bunny cartoon?" Mak asks.


"Probably, but Bugs was a better wrestler than Doom," King says.


Jimmy lashes out with a kick to Nemesis' right knee, but has to keep close as the big man turns around, trying to find the attacker. The Straight-Bread Sensation nails Nemesis in the left knee, and Nemesis fakes left then whips to his right knocking Jimmy to the ground with a clothesline.




The Hand of the Gods looks to follow up with a stomp, but Doom rolls out of the way. Doom clambers up, but gets thrown into the side of a building.




Jimmy pulls himself up and throws a four-by-four brick at the charging Nemesis, hitting the Colossus in the crotch.




"You and Dracula!


You and Dracula!


You and Dracula!"


Jimmy rushes the giant, grabs him by the hair, and tries to pull the Hand of the Gods to the ground with a Doom Factor, but Nemeis shrugs off the attempt. Doom takes a step backand laces a Yak Kick into Nemesis' enormous jaw.




Breathstab Awesomeasaurus rushes in, but rather than stop the match, he simply grabs his shoe and sprinkles confetti on both men.


"You know, I'm not sure if the referee even knows how to win this match," the Franchise says.


"Well, he is Doomtopian, so the chances of him being incredibly stupid at the very best is pretty good," King says.


Jimmy punts Nemesis in the stomach and tries a second time for the Doom Factor. The result is the same, and the Hand of the Gods wraps Jimmy up in a bear hug and slams him into a wall.




The Colossus charges in again, smashing a large portion of Doomgo free. Jimmy reaches out and hits Nemesis with a small brick, doing absolutely nothing to the Hand of the Gods. Jimmy hits Nemesis a second, then a third time before deciding to drag the sharp corner of the brick across Nemesis' skin, cutting the Colossus. Bloodshed doesn't seem to fase the giant, so Doom takes a page out of Tom Flesher's book and pokes the Hand of the Gods in the eye. The Straight-Brad Sensation jabs Nemesis in the eye again, and after a third poke, the Colossus releases the Hardcore champion.


"Jimmy the Doom taking the low road to achieve his way, but, this is a Doomopolis Street Fight, so it could very well not just be legal, but encouraged," Mak says.


"You tried to make a valid point, Francis, but you fail to realize that this is Jimmy the Doom, and he sucks, and by doing possibly illegal things, he sullies my and Flesher's good names, and for this, he deserves to get punched in the face until it falls off," the Suicide King says.


Jimmy crawls into the building Nemesis partially destroyed, and finds a fungus-riddled pumpkin stuffed with e.coli-laced spinach. Doom takes the diseased plant thing and throws it at Nemesis' face, knocking the Hand of the Gods back a step as pumkin goo splatters everywhere. Having bought some time with the pumpkin, the Straight-Bread Sensation decides to check the building for more weapons. Jimmy picks up a miniature giraffe and climbs out of the building. Holding the animal by the neck, the Doomtopian swings the giraffe into Nemesis' head, knocking the Greek giant back a step. The Straight-Bread Sensation slams the giraffe into the Hand of the Gods a second time, its tiny hooves cutting deep.


"Is that even legal? Surely that's against some kind of law, right?" King asks.


"Well, this is supposed to be part of Doomtopia, so maybe there's some kind of immunity going on," Mak says.


The Doomtopian champ rears back and flings the miniscule animal at Nemesis, the sharp hooves getting lodged in the Hand's mask and overall head area. The Colossus swats the mammal away, sending it into a wall.


"Someone better call the Ungulatesmith because that's one broken giraffe!" Mak shouts.


"That...that doesn't make any sense," King says.


"If you knew a bit about Doomtopia, you'd know that there are no veterinarians, only various smiths depending on the type of animal. Giraffes are hooved mammals, or ungulates, and thus fall under the care of an Ungulatesmith," Mak explains.


The Hardcore champ looks back to the building and picks up a section of PVC pipe. Doom puts one end in a burning barrel, and then smacks Nemesis with the flaming tip. Jimmy hits the Hand of the Gods a second time, leaving a patch of melted plastic on the big man's bare skin.


"That's got to be painful. And, I might be wrong, but I think burning PVC gives off a very toxic gas," Mak says.


"That's kind of funny, because, you know, Toxxic probably wears something made of PVC, so it's like saying he has bad farts," King says.


Jimmy tries to jab Nemesis with the pipe again, but the Colossus grabs it and pulls it from Doom's hands. The Hand of the Gods nails Jimmy with a stiff right hand, then scoops him up on his shoulders. Nemesis spins Doom out and plants him into the ground.




"Ear-wig sand-wich!


Ear-wig sand-wich!


Ear-wig sand-wich!"


"Colossus Drop! If this match had pinfalls, one would be academic now!" Mak shouts.


"Fucking Doomtopians," King mutters.


Nemesis plants a boot on Doom's chest, but Breathstab remains motionless. Looking from around the corner, Attenborough begins yelling at the official, and soon the Hand of the Gods joins in, though Nemesis' shouting is a lot less articulate, and a lot louder and scarier. Awesomeasaurus tries to plead with the two men, explaining that pinfalls are useless in a Doomopolis Street Fight, but neither man is willing to listen. Frightened, Breathstab scurries to the safety of the barrier donkeys and cowers.


"If he'd just tell them how to win, this match could be over," King says.


"But where's the fun in that? It makes it more interesting," Mak says.


"I suppose Jimmy getting his face smashed into bits is pretty good," King says.


Speaking of Jimmy, the Straight-Bread Sensation has slowly risen to his feet, using every second of Nemesis and Attenborough's tirade to recover. The Hardcore champ chucks a Doomgo brick at the Colossus, who whips around and charges. Jimmy ducks under a wild lariat from Nemesis and backpedals. The Hand of the Gods slowly turns around, but it's right into a dropkick from Doom. The Colossus stumbles backwards, smashing down a wall and falling into a building. Jimmy walks towards the barrier donkeys and forces them in front of the wall, keeping Nemesis trapped inside. The Hardcore champion looks around and gathers up an armful of Doomgo blocks. Jimmy begins stacking the building materials, making a staircase. The Straight-Breader reaches the top of the building with a few blocks to spare. Doom punches at the roof, breaking apart the bricks. Jimmy hurls the extra blocks at the rampaging Nemesis, bouncing them off his head. The Doomtopian scampers down the stairs and reaches for a barrel filled with burning mothballs and styrofoam. Jimmy quickly retracts his hands upon impact.


"What the hell is he trying to do?" King asks.


"I don't know, but it seems like he knows how to win this match," Mak says.


"I really hope not and he's just being retarded, like usual," King says.


The Straight-Bread Sensation appears to have hit upon a solution to the barrel issue, and takes off his shoes. Doom removes his socks as well, then puts them on his hands. Jimmy grabs the barrel, but apparently doesn't burn himself, as he picks it up and begins carrying it up the stairs. The Doomtopian reaches the top, looks down at Nemesis, and shouts at the Hand of the Gods.


"Of to youring, becomes with severals, haved, to in a muchliness, for too some!"


Jimmy then tips the barrel over, pouring the contents on Nemesis. Breathstab rushes forward and fires a flare gun into the sky.




"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, and still Smarks Wrestling Federation Hardcore champion, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyon shouts from the comfort of the Kingdome.


Doom slides down the stairs and dropkicks the nearest donkey in celebration. Awesomeasaurus hands the Hardcore title to the Straight-Breader, who rushes out of the Doomopolis street and heads for the arena.


"That's how you win? Dump mothballs and styrofoam on a guy trapped inside a building? Sure that guy just didn't make it up so Jimmy would win?" King asks.


"I don't think so. I believe the building represents man's struggle with his role in the world, while the burning mothballs and styrofoam is both used to demonstrate a cleansing and also to remind man that his life is going to be filled with pain. Or maybe that whole thing is some weird method of insect extermination, I've got no clue," Mak says.


With the donkeys out of the way, Nemesis manages to burst through the wall, surprisingly not dead from various encounters with noxious substances. As Professor Attenborough tries to calm the Colossus, Smarkdown fades to a commercial for Frost-brand 'STEAK FOOD: A steak, stuffed with a smaller steak and then wrapped in a steak.

Edited by chirs3

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Charlie Matthews in the ring. Matheson has a tennis racket. OMGSUBLIMINAL~!





CUE: Prince, "Black Sweat"







Mister Warrior slides in and shakes the ropes. He shakes the ropes some more. Beat chest. Shake ropes.




Warrior hits an ear clap. ALDOSTERONE!


Maddix runs in and covers...



































Maddix celebrates, but Warrior chases him away on suspicion of queering.


"God I hope Grappler showed." groans King.


"Me too." sighs Mak.




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“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon. “The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the SWF INTERNATIOOONAAAAAAAL CHAMPIONSHIP!”




“Introducing first, the Challenger…” Funyon booms, before his voice drifts into the silence as the house lights dim. Even before all the lights


as the opening ‘fuse lighting’ scene from the Mission Impossible television series is shown on the giant screen. When the fuse lights the music ignites, and the James Taylor Quartet’s cover of ‘Mission Impossible’ thunders out from the speakers!




“From Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at two hundred-twenty five pounds; he is JOHNNY ‘THE BARRAAAACUDAAAAAAAAAAAA’ DAAAAANGEROUS!!”


And the Barracuda swipes aside the curtains and steps onto the stage wearing his customary techno-black ring attire, high-tech shades, and trademarked earpiece. On most nights Johnny takes the time to high-five the fans lining the walkway as he makes his way towards the ring. However, tonight he is focused on one task and he refuses to let anything divert his attention, even for the few seconds it would take for him to indulge in his adoring fans.


“You can’t really blame him for being so cold. Ever since Johnny Dangerous made his return to the SWF Bruce Blank has had it out for him,” the Franchise reports. “He’s attacked the Barracuda multiple times inside the ring, costing him matches, and verbally attacked Johnny outside the ring!”


“All with the Federation’s best intentions in mind,” argues King. “I mean…come on now! Everyone has gotten themselves all caught up in the excitement of having Johnny Dangerous back in the SWF and forgotten how wretched he truly is. Once the honeymoon is over the true Johnny Dangerous will emerge once more!”


“Oh, and so I suppose Bruce Almighty here is just trying to save us all from being subjected to a reign of terror from Johnny Dangerous,” Mak sarcastically says.


“Well,” King begins, nodding his head. “Someone had to take the stand. Besides, if everything is so right and peachy with the Barracuda then why did the Wildchild bolt from the SWF the second Johnny returned? Nobody has seen hide or hair of that Caribbean Clown since Genesis.”


“You know I can’t speak for Wildchild, King-”


“Or anyone else for that matter,” the Gambling Man mutters. Francis just shoots his announcing partner a dirty look. Inside the ring Johnny removes his shades and robotically tosses them into the stands before crouching down with his palms just above his knees – his eyes focused on the curtains and more importantly the man who is due to come through them.


“And his opponent,” Funyon continues as white smoke begins to billow from the sides of the stage. “From Montgomery, Alabama, and weighing in at two hundred-ninety five pounds; he is your current, reigning, and defending SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION…BRUUUUUUUUUCE BLAAAAANK!!”




The beginning of Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ starts up as the fans try to stir up a chant, but it’s completely drowned out when the songs main riff kicks in. Finally, the front of Bruce’s custom Dodge Charger peers through the smoke, slowly rolling all the way through the cloud, but with all the haze it’s a little difficult to confirm that Blank is actually sitting in the car this time.


“Surely he wouldn’t try the same bait and switch twice,” Francis ponders as the crowd leans in a little to try and see if it is indeed Bruce. Johnny himself is a little leery having seen the footage from Smarkdown and he keeps his head on a swivel, quickly checking over both shoulders. When the car comes to a stop and the smoke dissipates, it is clearly the International Champion himself seated in the backseat.


“Ha!” snorts King. “It looks like he fooled everyone who was expecting him not to be in the car. The difference here is that Bruce isn’t sweating Johnny Dangerous.”




“You see,” the King of Hearts explains, “Bruce already has all the momentum coming into this match. He’s the reigning Champion; he doesn’t have to beat Johnny he just has to make sure he doesn’t get himself pinned. Plus, as you already alluded to, Bruce has the mental advantage over the Barracuda after chipping away at Johnny’s psyche for weeks now!”


“Well all that chipping away may have gotten Bruce more than he bargained for,” Mak says. “He’s attacked Johnny’s integrity and I guarantee that he’ll fight tooth and nail to defend it. This’ll be no easy match for Bruce Blank, second longest reign or not!”


“We’ll see about that,” King mutters as Bruce heads to the ring. Wayne follows closely behind with an armful of title belts, depositing them at the timekeepers table for safeguarding. Bruce strips the belt off his waist and hands it over to Red Herrington, the official for this match, and after displaying it to the crowd and Dangerous, he hands it off to a ring side assistant.


“That’s certainly a collection,” King marvels over the collection of title belts piled on the table next to him as the International Championship is added to them. “Only one belt may be active in our federation toady, but the statement is loud and clear. Bruce Blank is one of the most dominating and fighting Champions the SWF has ever had, and by beating Johnny, the first International Champion, he will have proven that he is the best International Champion ever.”


“He’s already beaten Jay Hawke, who was the longest reigning International Champion, so it’d be hard to argue against it,” Mak agrees as Herrington finally signals for the bell.




“Time to find out if defending ones honor can prevail over the quest to be the best,” sings King. “Though I think the one defending his honor is a little questionable in that department.”


“Oh shut up!” Mak hisses, but the start to this match nips any banter between the two in the BUTT. The two men begin a slow paced circle of one another and already the crowd is crackling and buzzing with anticipation. Johnny glares intently at Bruce. Even before the first fist is swung the Barracuda’s anger is simmering and heading towards a rapid boil, which is telegraphed quite clearly to the Champion. He smiles broadly, almost like he can already see his plan working like a tee. The only thing he didn’t account for was the rude fans starting up a chant.





The crowd begins to chant at him, ignoring the fact that Bruce has upgraded his lifestyle to that of at least a blue collar standard. Bruce grumbles as he glances hatefully at the crowd with his upper lip curled and-




-that’s when the Barracuda strikes like a coiled snake, drilling the Champion in the jaw with a solid right hand!








The first blow is mighty and it rocks the Champions head on his shoulders! Three more quick, but not quite as strong blows follow in hot pursuit of Bruce as he stumbles back from the shots. Johnny backs Bruce into the ropes then grabs him by the arm to whip him across the ring, into the opposite ropes, and then chases two steps behind him. The second Bruce recoils off the ropes he is hit hard with a drop kick to the chest, sending him tumbling to the mat! Johnny drops down and applies a lateral press for…




…and nothing more as Bruce easily gets the shoulder up!


“Whoa!” Mak excitedly shouts. “Bruce took his eyes off Johnny for only a second but that was all the Barracuda needed to get the jump on the Champion!”


“Well Bruce had better start focusing on Johnny and not these fans or he’s going to find himself starring up at the lights in a hurry,” the Gambling Man shouts, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow.


Johnny jumps up to his feet. The temptation to throw his arms out and cut loose with a magnificent battle cry is hard to push aside, but Johnny knows he can’t divert his concentration. He grabs for the Champion to pull him to his feet, but Bruce hasn’t been hit hard enough or enough times to submit to Dangerous’ wishes. Bruce pushes Johnny off of him and pushes up to his knees under his own power. If anything, Johnny’s quick strike served to only enrage the ‘Redneck Superman’ and it could only get worse. The Barracuda charges back in, blasting Blank with forearm after forearm as the Champion gets all the way up to a vertical base, seemingly unfazed by Johnny’s attacks. Dangerous throws another left hook in but this time Bruce blocks the shot with his forearm before returning fire, ramming his fist directly into the Barracuda’s forehead!




Johnny stumbles back, unable to take the blows without flinching like his opponent, and if Bruce has it his way the Barracuda will be doing a lot more than flinching in the next few minutes! He quickly closes in with a second forearm…then a third, each hit knocking Dangerous a step closer to the ropes! Though dazed, Johnny frantically reaches back to feel for the ropes and to have something to grab onto and keep his balance, but before he can get a good hold on them Bruce grabs him by the arm and whips him across the ring! Johnny hits the ropes and bounces back towards the International Champion, who begins the motions of a lariat. But before he can connect Johnny ducks down and blazes right under Bruce’s arm! He races right past Blank, heading straight for the ropes directly behind the Champion, and picking up some serious steam as he does! He hits the ropes and springs off them to go screaming back towards his opponent, jumps up-




-and slams into the International Champion with a flying body press! He catches Bruce just as he was spinning back around to face him, and hits so hard that he violently sends Blank crashing into the canvas! Johnny stays right on top of the Champion and applies a second lateral press, hoping for a quick pin as Herrington drops to count for…







NOOO!!! Bruce shoves the Barracuda off of him with authority, ending the count just after one!


“Unbelievable,” marvels Mak. “I had faith in the Barracuda to be able to win this match but he’s just ripping Bruce to shreds right now! I told you Bruce had woken a sleeping dragon by screwing with Johnny’s emotions!”


“And I told you that everyone is so caught up in the excitement of Johnny’s return that they’ve forgotten how he truly is,” the Suicide King returns, drawing a blank stare from Francis. “Johnny Dangerous is like a first quarter man – he can start off hot but he can’t keep it up long enough to actually win the match.”


Bruce tries to quickly get to his feet and get back on the defensive path, but his nimble opponent greets him with a boot to the gut! Blank doubles over and Johnny snags him in a side headlock. He clenches down as hard as he can then starts to pull the International Champion across the ring, fully intending to clothesline him across the top rope. However, Bruce isn’t about to let any of those shenanigans play out—he’s seen enough tape on Johnny’s matches--and he quickly slams on the brakes, shoving Dangerous away. Johnny keeps on going though and he heads for the ropes, “-but the Barracuda had better watch out cause Wayne looks like he’s up to something,” warns Mak.


Sure enough, the younger brother of the International Champion is up to something. When Johnny hits the ropes and leans into them is when Wayne makes his presence felt in this match, punching the Barracuda in his back!




The crowd hisses their disapproval and Herington streaks towards the edge of the ring to admonish Wayne, who holds up his hands innocently, as Johnny stumbles off the ropes clenching his back-




-and Bruce charges in to level the Barracuda with a thunderous clothesline, sending Johnny packing to the canvas! Bruce drops to his knees, straddling himself over Dangerous, and begins pounding fist after fist into his Challenger’s skull!


“And Bruce Blank has completely stolen all of Johnny’s momentum with a Texas Lariat,” reports King as the crowd boos the Champion loudly. Bruce finally ceases his attack when the referee heads back towards him and covers Johnny for…







TW-NOOO!!!! Johnny kicks out in the middle of the two-count! Bruce grabs the Barracuda by his head and pulls him to his feet, tossing in a few shots to Johnny’s midsection to keep him subdued before spinning him around and locking his hands around the Barracuda’s waist from behind! Dangerous knows what’s coming up next and it’s all he can do to frantically grapevine his leg around Bruce’s leg as the Champion tries to haul him over for a simple suplex. It stops the suplex as intended, giving Johnny enough time to send an elbow flying back into his opponent’s skull! Bruce grunts from the blow, but doesn’t budge until three more elbows thrown in rapid succession coming firing back at him! Finally, the strikes pay off and Bruce staggers back off the Secret Agent, releasing his hands from Johnny’s waist. However, like before, the Barracuda’s attacks deal more damage to Bruce’s calmness than they do to his body, and he charges right back in, just when Dangerous thought he had a second to breathe…




…and clubs him right in the spine with a closed fist! Johnny arches back, crying out in pain as the crowd “OOOOOH”S!” from the hollow, bone filled ‘THUNK’ that pierces the sound waves!


“OH!” Francis winces at the hit. “Bruce isn’t pulling any of those punches!”


“Nor should he!” the King of Hearts snaps. “Bruce is here to prove that he’s the best International Champion ever and dismantling the first-ever International Champion will certainly put a bold exclamation point on that statement!”


If the Franchise thought Bruce was hitting hard with the first one, he hasn’t seen anything yet! With the Barracuda hunched over, clenching his back, Bruce backs up a good three steps and then rushes in to drill Johnny in the back with a BIG BOOT!










“Now that’s uncalled for!” cries Mak, as Johnny lies crumpled on the canvas. “I know it’s technically a legal move but come on now – Bruce is just trying to cripple the Barracuda!”


“And you’d be one to know what that takes,” King snickers, alluding to the Franchise’s own predicament.


The crowd gives Bruce the what for but this time Bruce is a little more pleased to hear those chants. When it comes in a match like this at a time like this, Bruce knows it means he’s done what he set out to do. He defiantly pumps his fist to the fans before finally securing his victory over the Barracuda with a cover.





























NOOOOO!!!!!! Johnny thrusts his shoulder of the mat just after two, saving himself from a loss for the time being!


“Bruce thought he had the Barracuda by rattling him with the stiffest shot all night, but it only earns him a two count,” reports Mak Francis. “He can’t expect Johnny to end his fight so early.”


“Why the hell not?” asks King, “It’s already obvious that Johnny isn’t going to be able to take Bruce down. He might as well save his body from more abuse and quit while he’s ahead.”


Bruce angrily stomps his foot into the mat but if it’s going to take more abuse than he is certainly the best man to dish it out! He moves to reacquire the shaken Barracuda before he can get to a vertical position on his own; grabbing Johnny by his head and jerking him to his feet. Bruce quickly pulls Johnny into a headlock to keep the pressure on his opponent and gradually wear him down until Dangerous has nothing left to offer. That time has yet to come though, and before the International Champion has the chance to tighten his grip and crush the Secret Agent like a trash compactor, Johnny jams his elbow into Bruce’s gut! Blank grunts on impact and Johnny fires another shot in, this time with a little more force behind it. The elbows themselves don’t really do much damage to the former Ultraviolent Champion’s armor, but they certainly distract him from his goal, allowing the Barracuda to slip out of harms reach. Johnny quickly darts across the ring…


“Johnny’s got to get some space here,” notes Mak. “Even if the reason he fell into this trap was by some devious means, he won’t be able to win if he can’t gain the momentum back in his corner.”


Although Johnny can’t hear the words of advice from Mak Francis he knows that he has to keep some distance--Bruce’s strength is just too much to tackle the Champion head on. Dangerous makes his way across the ring to put some distance between the Champion and himself, but Bruce isn’t going to just give Johnny a breather, the Barracuda will have to take it. Johnny stops halfway across the ring, knowing Bruce is directly behind him and charging in with a forearm! He waits for Bruce to get just close enough, and for the Champion to sling his arm around, and that’s when the Barracuda takes advantage of his lighting-quick reflexes!




Johnny dodges the forearm smash by ducking down and spinning away from the oncoming arm then fluidly moves right into a roundhouse kick! He nails the Champion right in his abdomen, stunning Bruce as he doubles over while clenching his gut. Johnny takes the one second opening that Bruce gives him and moves right into a Russian Leg Sweep! Bruce Blank goes crashing into the mat after having his legs swept out from under him, and the crowd roars in delight! Johnny can feel the fans energy and it’s almost like it feeds him--reenergizes him—and he quickly jumps up then arches back while bringing out his elbow-




-and sinks the point of his elbow directly into Bruce’s sternum! The International Champion quivers on impact, but he stays on his back as Johnny floats over for a cover.




































“And Bruce powers out of the pin attempt,” says King, as the Champion tosses Dangerous off him then rolls onto his stomach and shoves off the mat, “proving that it’s going to take a lot more than anything Johnny has to offer to put him down!”


“I wouldn’t be so sure, Brian,” the Franchise firmly replies. “I think Johnny is starting to realize that he needs to let his instincts in the martial arts, and his stealth as a secret agent guide him to victory.”


King just looks at his announcing partner with the look of total bewilderment.


“Well…If anything it’s definitely allowed him to take back control of this match,” Mak finally finishes.


“Yeah, but how long is that going to last?” asks King, as Bruce gets to his knees only to find the Barracuda charging back towards him! Johnny dives at Blank feet-first, but the Champion quickly rolls out of the way…




…and Johnny lands flat on his back in the most unflattering of mannerisms. He flushes bright red and quickly pops back up to his feet…




Only for Bruce Blank to charge in with an elbow that sends the Barracuda rocking on his heels! Johnny staggers back against the ropes, semi-stunned, but still coherent enough to quickly duck down as Bruce rushes forward with a second screaming elbow. Johnny pops up from behind Bruce and then braces himself to deliver a Johnny Kick! The crowd moves to the edge of their seats, and as the International Champion turns back around to face his opponent Johnny launches his foot into the air--his targeting reticules locked onto Bruce’s chin!


“Johnny Kick!” Francis calls, but it’s a bit too soon as Bruce frantically leans back to avoid the blast and grabs the Barracuda by his ankle, snatching it straight out of mid-air! Johnny gasps in horror, but before he can readjust his plan Bruce flips him to the mat, flat on his back, “-and here comes the Straight Jacket!” Suicide King excitedly shouts. “Bruce Blank has got Johnny down, and if he can lock that devastating submission in than Bruce will have achieved his goal!”


Bruce tries to roll Johnny onto his stomach to lock in the crab, but Johnny frenetically kicks and bucks, trying to worm his way free! The crowd is crapping all over Bruce but he doesn’t care right now—he’s a second away from becoming the best International Champion ever and it’s so close he can taste it! He tries to play the domination game against the Barracuda, using his strength to end Johnny’s struggling, and with a wide tooth grin he starts to lock in the crab!


“Come on, Johnny!” cheers Mak, along with the fans who try to urge the Barracuda to keep fighting. Dangerous, though riddled with pain from Bruce’s crab, can hear this crowd chanting for him. Even though it was only a year ago when the Barracuda had turned his back on them to focus on his own selfish goals, and even though Bruce had attempted to turn the crowd on him by reminding them of those deeds, they were back on his side. It would be such a shame to fall in front of these people, and especially to a redneck, poor-white-trash-hillbilly like Bruce Blank!


Finally, Johnny lifts his head up and cuts loose with a blood stained battle-cry, and that only gets an explosion of cheers from the Kingdom! Johnny reaches out for the mat in front of him and he digs his nails deep into the canvas. The ropes are close enough that he could reach them with some good effort and that’s exactly what he plans to give. Dangerous inches forward with Bruce tugging away at his leg until he reaches for the ropes, and he grabs hold of the bottom! Herrington calls for the break, which gets a huge cheer from the fans.


However, Bruce isn’t going to let go unless someone physically removes him from Johnny and he shakes his head ‘no’ while clamping down even harder! As expected, the crowd lets him have it!


“What is the meaning of all this!?” the Franchise questions, repulsed by Bruce’s refusal to let go. “Is Bruce trying to get himself disqualified?”


“He’d certainly keep the belt and have succeeded with his goal for the night,” King adds in as the referee calls for the break a second time! Bruce still doesn’t let go and Herrington begins a ten count.




















FINALLY, Bruce obliges and releases Dangerous, who lets out a sigh of relief, but it isn’t going to last long as Bruce quickly pulls him back up with an arm wrench. He steps forward, whipping the Barracuda across the ring and straight towards the corner…






Johnny slams back-first into the unforgiving steel post then flops to the canvas! He groans in agony, clutching his aching back while trying to get back up. Staying on the mat would certainly be his doom and he knows it, so despite the pain he reaches for the ropes and pulls himself back to his feet. However, that seems to be just what the Champion was hoping for. Bruce charges across the ring towards his opponent, catching Johnny like a deer caught in the headlights before spinning around and absolutely drilling him with a running shoulder tackle!




Bruce’s devastating blow puts the Barracuda flat on his back, and the move deflates the crowd. Johnny couldn’t possibly be able to go any more. It’s over, and they can feel it, so the mood is none to bright when Bruce applies the pin on Dangerous.




































































“He kicked out!” hollers Mak. “Johnny kicked out and this crowd can’t believe it!”


Bruce angrily pounds his fists into the canvas! How the fuck could this little punk take this kind of hard-hitting abuse and still refuse to stay down! To say that Bruce’s anger is boiling over like an unwatched pot would be an understatement! He gets up and tries to argue with the referee. Bruce holds up three fingers; he knows this match was over but Herrington is firm on his decision and it was not a three-count! It’s not what Bruce wants to hear and his two fingers turns into a single, middle finger, in the referees face, before he turns and storms off.


“That’s a sure-fire way to make sure the referee gets on your side,” Mak comments.


“What the hell would it matter if the referee was truly impartial…which he isn’t! That was definitely three.”


Bruce drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring and heads for the table holding the assortment of championship belts.


“Oh, come on now!” the Franchise cries as Bruce snatches the International Championship off the timekeepers table, and then turns to head back inside the ring. “What a cop out! Bruce knows he can’t beat the Barracuda so he’s going to try and take the easy way out of this match!”


“You’re forgetting one thing there, Bucko! Bruce doesn’t have to beat Johnny Dangerous,” says King. “It takes a wise man to know when to bail out so you can come back and fight another day.”


“And that’s supposed to be how a fighting champion defends his belt?” Mak ask, obviously disgusted.


Johnny starts pulling himself up and tries to use the free moment he has to gather his bearings when Bruce heads back for the ring. Bruce slides back in, but unfortunately, for Bruce, he’s met by the referee as he stomps his way up to his feet! Herrington doesn’t even offer up the opportunity for Bruce to explain himself—the referee knows Blanks intentions and he immediately seizes the belt from the Champion and admonishes him for even considering such a move. After shaking his head in annoyance he calls for a ringside assistant to come fetch the belt he’s holding, leaning over the top rope…and inadvertently turning a blind eye to the ring.


“Thank God that this referee-wait! What the hell is Wayne doing!?” Francis shouts as Wayne, with a second title belt in hand, rushes across the ringside that’s just barely out of the referee’s field of vision.




Bruce signals that he’s open for the catch and Wayne lobs it up-


“We’ve got a little bit of a misdirection option!” King cheers. The belt soars over the top rope, into the ring…



“This is about to be the biggest screw job I’ve ever seen!”



“Maybe, but it’s also the cleverest.”



…and when the belt flies into the ring it goes right into the hands of Johnny Dangerous as the Barracuda makes a spectacular leaping catch!




“Interception!” the Franchise exclaims as the crowd explodes! Bruce barely has time to register the diving play on the title belt by Dangerous before Johnny rolls to his feet-




-and Dangerous absolutely PLASTERS the Champion’s face with the retired championship belt! The crowd jumps to their feet in excitement.


“What!? This is bullshit! Disqualify him!” King hollers.


“I thought this was the cleverest move you’d ever seen,” says Francis as Johnny quickly slings the belt out of the ring and heads for the ring post nearest to the fallen Champion. It takes a second after the beating he’s taken but surely, Johnny makes his way to the post. He climbs up, putting his back to the ring, and with thousands inside the Kingdom firmly behind him Johnny Dangerous moonsaults off the top of the turnbuckle!


Bruce Blank may have been able to get to the Barracuda by attacking him and dragging the skeletons out of his closet…





…But with this move Johnny knows that he can finally put the past behind him…





….and put the final nail in the coffin of a past that will never come back!





“DEAAAAAAAAATH FROM ABOVE!” the Franchise sings as Johnny sinks two feet into the Champions chest with the moonsault double stomp! Johnny’s momentum carries him off of Bruce and he rolls off and up to his feet, and then comes back to make the final pin.
























































“Johnny cheated!” King tries to cry foul. “How can you say he defended his honor and integrity when he had to cheat just to win!?”


“He wouldn’t have had that opportunity had Wayne Blank not been trying to cheat for his brother by tossing the belt into the ring in the first place,” argues Francis. “This was Bruce’s match to loose and he did by trying to cheat the Barracuda out of the match.”


Herrington hands the title belt to Johnny, and he gladly accepts it. It’d been quite some time since he held this belt in his hands—the belt he created—and it felt good to have it back in his hands. Johnny Dangerous raises the belt out to the fans as we:













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“Welcome back from our last commercial break, and it’s time for the main event with the Cruiserweight Title on the line!”


As Mak Francis finishes speaking the Kingdome goes black for a moment. However, then Smarktron kicks into action as words flash up:


‘I’m Born…’


‘I’m Alive…’


‘I Breathe…’


‘Vitamin’ by Incubus starts up, and the crowd instantly leaps to its collective feet with a roar to show their support for the challenger! A moment later Zyon himself appears on the soundstage grinning in the spotlight; he points all around the arena and elicits a bigger cheer from whichever section his sweeping digit passes, then charges down the entrance ramp to the ring, taking the jump up to the apron in his stride before flipping acrobatically into the ring. From there he hops up to the second rope and stretches his arms wide, inviting further applause from the crowd… who are only too eager to oblige.




“Look at this little whore, hogging the spotlight,” King snorts.


“This is the Kingdome,” Mak points out, “whores are welcome.”


“Damn right! This is my house!”


“Who died and made you Elix Skipper?”


Zyon drops back down from the turnbuckle, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes and performing a few stretches to limber up. This isn’t the first time he’s gone one-on-one with his opponent tonight, nor the first time for a title either… but he hopes desperately that it will turn out differently to their last meeting. As if on cue a brash, bellowing chant suddenly blasts out from the PA system.





The crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire takes over, rolling around the Kingdome as the Smarktron fades swiftly down to black. As it does so jagged white letters flash up a familiar slogan, one word at a time:




The Smarktron video kicks in, providing short, clipped shots of the highlights of Michael Stephens’ career, from the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas right through to hitting the Sunny In England on Tom Flesher for the win at Genesis VII. Finally it shifts to footage of Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the-




-blast of red pyro that signifies the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman! And through the flame and smoke…




…trenchcoat unzipped over his England soccer shirt, worn in honour of his country’s match against Croatia yesterday…




…Tag Title in his left hand, World Title in his right and the Cruiserweight belt buckled around his waist…




…comes the man once known as Toxxic. He pauses at the top of the entrance ramp, steel-grey eyes focusing on the ring and his opponent, then starts to stride down towards the squared circle. The champion looks focused, and doesn’t remove his gaze from Zyon as he approaches.


“You remember what I said at their World Title match about Zyon being a beatable tool that Toxxic will bump off to pad his title reign and stroke his ego?” King asks.


“Unfortunately, yes.”


“Well, I stand by that comment. If Tom Flesher couldn’t beat Toxxic, Spike Jenkins would have struggled to. And since Spike Jenkins didn’t, Zyon has a snowball’s chance in Hell.”


“If we see the same Zyon tonight that we’ve seen for the last few weeks, I’m in the rare position of agreeing with you,” Mak Francis admits. “However, if he turns on the talent that we know he has in him, I think he could bounce back and take this title; he’ll be prepared for Stephens, make no mistake.”


Mike Stephens stops at the bottom of the entrance ramp and briefly crosses his arms in the straight-edge ‘X’ sign before throwing them wide, triggering another blast of red pyro from the top of each ringpost!




‘I never thought this could be me

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

Like all the fun turned into shame

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


Stephens rolls into the ring, stands up and hands all three title belts to the SWF’s head referee Matthew Kivell, then strips off his trenchcoat and pulls his England shirt off, wadding it up before throwing it out to the crowd where two girls in heavy eyeliner fight for it surreptitiously. The champion cracks his neck from side to side, then nods in acknowledgement to Zyon as Funyon steps to make the introductions.


“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your main event of the evening,” the veteran ring announcer booms, “and will be contested for one fall under Cruiserweight Rules for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship! There will be a twenty count on the outside, and throwing your opponent over the top rope will result in disqualification! Introducing first, the challenger; from Elkhart, Indiana, he weighs in tonight at 220lbs, this is ‘The Unique Youth’, ZYYYYYYYYY-ONNNNNNNNNNNNN!!”








“And his opponent, from Nottingham, England; he weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, the SWF World Heavyweight Champion and is the reigning and defending SWF Cruiserweight Champion… this is ‘The Sensation’, MIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!”








“Just like last time, the crowd are split in their support for these two men,” Mak Francis notes, “although I think Stephens may have the edge - but never underestimate the underdog, or the potential of the fans to get behind him!”


“Like it’d make any difference,” King snorts, “you could have the entire population of China cheering Zyon on at the moment and he’d still lose.”


Matthew Kivell takes the Cruiserweight Title and shows it to both men, then to all four corners of the arena before handing it out to the timekeeper and calling for the bell…




Both men immediately start circling, Zyon clearly trying to outflank the champion who keeps on his toes to keep his opponent in view. However Zyon isn’t going to waste any time hanging around and charges in towards Stephens, hoping to catch the older man off-guard; it doesn’t work though, as Mike drops down to sweep Zyon’s legs from under him with one arm, then jumps on top for a cover!










…but Zyon kicks out almost before Matthew Kivell’s hand can strike the mat and bounces back to his feet; not quickly enough to evade Michael Stephens however, who snatches Zyon’s left foot off the mat with a single leg pick, then hooks his left leg behind Zyon’s right and pulls to topple the Unique Youth backwards to the mat. Zyon lands hard and Stephens takes advantage by placing his right foot on Zyon’s left arm to pin it to the mat, then releases the Indianan’s leg to grab hold of the arm instead. Zyon starts to reach up with his legs, perhaps to try and kick Stephens away, but the defending champion performs a forward roll across his opponent’s chest with the arm in his grip, ending up on the other side of Zyon with the challenger pulled over onto his front. Stephens then applies a hammerlock to his prone opponent, making sure to keep Zyon facedown and trapped.


“Well, Michael Stephens has Zyon grounded already,” Mak Francis says, slightly surprised, “he almost got caught out by the Unique Youth’s speed in their World Title match and although he came out on top in the end, it looks like he doesn’t want to risk it going against him this time around.”


“He’s trying to show that he’s as good a chain wrestler as Spike Jenkins,” Suicide King sniffs, “and he is, of course, failing.”


Stephens is showing no inclination to move from the hammerlock, and instead pins Zyon’s arm firmly in place on his back before raising his legs off the mat, then coming down with a kneedrop to the trapped limb. Zyon grinds his teeth in pain, but can’t do anything to prevent his opponent from repeating the move. However, this time Stephens keeps his knee there to pinion Zyon’s arm and reaches across his younger opponent’s back, trying to hook the Unique Youth’s right arm. Zyon tries to keep his other limb out of Stephens’ grasp but doesn’t have much luck, and the Triple Champion manages to tuck Zyon’s right hand under his left arm, then lean back for a hammerlock/armbar combination.


“Tell me King, shouldn’t Stephens be focusing on the legs against a high-flyer like Zyon?” Francis asks as the Dakotan crowd applauds politely.


“Ideally yes,” the Gambling Man responds, “but when you’re as limited as Toxxic you have to stick to your strengths. If he tries to bust out a Texas Cloverleaf or something he’s more likely to end up giving Zyon a shiatsu massage, so armbars it is.”


However, a knee has never been the most precise instrument for keeping control of another person’s limb, and as Zyon wriggles he manages to free his left arm, then twists in place under Stephens to jerk the champion off him and get onto his back. Stephens suddenly no longer has any pressure applied to his opponent’s right arm, and Zyon swings his legs up to scissor Mike’s right arm, then pulls his opponent down towards the mat in his turn while reaching forwards for a crossface hold!


“Gouki Crossface!” Mak shouts, “Zyon’s going for it early!”


Too early; Michael Stephens has no desire to be trapped in the move that ended his third World Title run (albeit at the hands of Ejiro Fasaki rather than Zyon) and he resists the pressure on his arm long enough to perform a forward roll; this ends with him on his back in a similar position to Zyon moments ago, and he’s able to reach up with his left arm to grab his opponent by the head and pull him over into a modified small package, the right arm that was scissored between Zyon’s legs now hooking one of them!










Zyon breaks free of the pin and tries to roll away, but Stephens isn’t letting him go that easily and makes a grab for him, trapping the Unique Youth in a front facelock. Zyon reaches out for the ropes with his foot but Stephens abruptly rolls sideways, not only dragging his opponent away from the ropes but cranking his neck at the same time, ending up with both men on their fronts again but now a few feet away from the ropes.






The fans of high-flying action in the crowd clearly want the Unique Youth to have a chance to do what he does best, but what Zyon does best is not in the best interests of Michael Stephens and the defending champion keeps his hold firmly locked in, putting pressure on his opponent’s neck and preventing Zyon from even thinking about building momentum.


“It’s such a different gameplan from Stephens this time around,” Mak marvels, “last time they met it was all-out action at the start, but this time the champion seems to be trying to neutralise Zyon from the get-go rather than beat him at his own game.”


“Too defensive,” King states, “everyone knows that the best defence is a good offence; however,” he adds thoughtfully, “the best way to win is not to be Zyon, so Toxxic’s ahead of the game there.”


Zyon hasn’t been disheartened by his opponent’s tenacity, and the challenger is starting to inch his way towards the ropes. Stephens doesn’t seem that bothered by it, well aware that every movement is costing his opponent in terms of strength and stamina, and when Zyon does manage to hook a boot over the bottom rope the champion rolls away to his feet to break the hold immediately. However, if he was expecting Zyon to take a breather and try another approach he’s in for a surprise; the young star from Indiana bursts up from the mat and charges at Stephens, drops to slide through his legs and then pops up behind the startled Englishman before wrapping his arm around Mike’s neck looking for the 3.0 backbreaker… but Stephens grabs the arm and twists away, pulling Zyon into an armwringer before trapping the limb against his chest and dropping backwards with a single-arm DDT that wrenches Zyon’s shoulder in its socket!




“Denied,” King sighs as Stephens gets up to his knees, then drops and spins with the arm still in his grasp to traumatise the limb again and exact another gasp of pain from the Unique Youth. The champion isn’t done yet though, as he rises back to his feet with Zyon in tow and runs for the turnbuckles, hopping up to the top rope in short order. From there he leaps off back into the ring with Zyon’s arm trapped beneath his leg, delivering a legdrop that drives the Indianan back down to the mat and crushes his arm as he does so!




“This is vintage Michael Stephens,” Mak Francis notes as the Englishman gets up again, still with Zyon’s arm in his grip, “while targeting the arm won’t prevent Zyon from hitting top rope moves it will soften him up for something like the RTF II.”


“It’s vintage because he hasn’t learned anything new in two-and-a-half years,” King grunts. Meanwhile Stephens is heading for the buckles again, but this time he jumps up to the top rope before simply dropping down to the floor of the Kingdome, guillotining Zyon’s arm on the ropes! The Unique Youth spins away clutching at his injured limb, and Stephens takes this chance to hop back up to the apron, then takes hold of the top rope in both hands. Zyon starts to turn back towards him and Stephens jumps to the top rope, then springboards into the ring-




-and in a reversal of fortune from their first match, Zyon dropkicks him out of the air!








“Denied!” Mak laughs as Mike clutches hi gut, “his methods may be effective but the man himself is sometimes predictable; Zyon won’t have had to watch that many Michael Stephens matches to know the pattern the champion usually follows when he’s working someone’s arm over, and he cut Stephens off at the pass. Now all he has to do is take advantage!”


Zyon landed on his hurt arm, which prevents him from following up immediately; however, the Unique Youth does manage to get back to his feet and looks over at Stephens to see the Cruiserweight Champion starting to do the same thing. In the knowledge that his arm hurts but his legs are fine Zyon waits for the right moment, then runs for the turnbuckles. Stephens turns to follow him, maybe to pursue or maybe just to watch; either way, he’s too slow to dodge the spectacular corkscrew attack that Zyon launches after hopping to the top rope!




“No Regard!” Mak yells as Stephens crumples backwards to the canvas with Zyon on top of him, “he’s got him covered!”











…not for long, as despite the winding effect of the move Stephens still has plenty left to kick out. However he can’t get up quickly enough and Zyon springs back to his feet, then leaps high into the air before landing a legdrop across the champion’s throat. Almost before Stephens has stopped spasming from that Zyon is up again and jumps once more, this time hitting an inch-perfect standing moonsault and hooking the leg for the cover…



















…but Stephens kicks out again! Zyon grabs the breathless Englishman by the head and brings him up to his feet, then hooks him up for a suplex; whatever condition Zyon’s right arm is in it doesn’t prevent him from jerking backwards and delivering a sharp snap suplex to his opponent…




…then rolling back to his feet with Stephens in tow to hit another!




And once more!






It seems that three snap suplexes is as much as Zyon wants to use his arm for right now, and the Unique Youth instead turns and runs for the turnbuckles. He swiftly climbs to the top and spreads his arms in preparation for the Final Flash… but Stephens is rolling away across the ring and Zyon hops back down to the mat rather than try and cover too much distance with some sort of diving attack.


“Sensible move,” Francis notes, “he needs to wait for the right time.”


Indeed, Zyon approaches Stephens again and lands a clubbing blow across the champion’s back before the Englishman can do much more than rise off the mat to his knees, then hooks Stephens as if for another suplex. However, this time Zyon reaches forward and hooks his opponent’s leg, then rolls sideways to hit a Fisherman’s neckbreaker, holding the bridge for the pin!



















…but Stephens kicks out, although whether through his own stamina or because Zyon’s right arm wasn’t quite up to holding on isn’t clear. Zyon doesn’t seem that discouraged though, and the Unique Youth starts to drag Michael Stephens back up to his feet.


“Well, we’re seeing the difference in approaches to this match very clearly now,” the Franchise says, “Stephens went for neutralising Zyon early with mat wrestling and succeeded for a while, but the challenger has broken out now and is letting rip with everything he has!”


“If you move up the gears against Toxxic it’s only a matter of time before he turns the tables on you,” King predicts, “the faster the match moves the more chances he has to reverse something, or dodge something, or pull some sort of trick.”


“So what, you’d have advised Zyon to try mat wrestling his way through this?” Francis snorts.


“Not at all. I’d have advised him to stay the hell away from the ring so I don’t have to watch this,” King responds, “I’m not a massive fan of Toxxic’s, but when I’m watching a match I know he’s going to win it’s just tedious.”


Regardless of the Gambling Man’s lack of faith in him Zyon appears to have every intention of pressing on with his attempts to take his third Cruiserweight Title, and underhooks both of Stephens’ arms in preparation for a double-arm DDT. Stephens has some objections to being dropped on his head however, and the champion manages to wrench his arms free, then hook Zyon behind both legs and bull forward to tip the Unique Youth onto his back!


“Told you,” King sighs.


Stephens straightens up and tucks one of Zyon’s legs under each arm, then falls backwards and slingshots his opponent straight into the turnbuckles! Zyon hits hard and staggers backwards in a daze - Stephens pops up back to his feet and runs past him, grabbing the Unique Youth in a ¾ headlock as he does so for the Sunny In England… but Zyon pushes him away!


“Denied!” Mak shouts. Michael Stephens turns around… and Zyon reaches up and grabs him in a ¾ headlock for the Big Shot… but Stephens pushes him away!


“Denied!” King shouts back. Zyon turns back to face Stephens… and both men leap up to try and dropkick the other, each ending up hitting nothing but air!








Both champion and challenger scramble back to their feet, aware that the slightest hesitation could make a difference… and Zyon is that little bit faster, able to nail Stephens with a forearm shot to the head before Irish whipping the champion towards the ropes. Mike reverses the momentum to send Zyon into the cables instead, then ducks his head looking for a back bodydrop, but the Unique Youth is ready for him and just somersaults over the Englishman, grabbing him by the head as he does so and pulling Stephens over for a Blockbuster neckbreaker!




“Most people have to go to the top rope to do that,” Mak Francis shouts, “but Zyon doesn’t! Whatever changes he may have made to his game he’s still one of the most exciting, high-risk athletes in the SWF… and here he goes again!”


Sure enough, Zyon is up and Stephens is down. There’s only one thing that Zyon’s going to do in that situation, and that’s run to the nearest turnbuckles, hop up to the top rope drop into a sitting position before bouncing off with the Dusk split-legged moonsault!





















-but Stephens kicks out!






The warring chants are firing up again as each part of the Kingdome starts getting behind their favourite; Zyon knows who he wants to win though, and he grabs Michael Stephens to pull the defending champion to his feet. He hooks the Englishman for a suplex again, then hoists him vertical for a brainbuster… but moments before he can drop backwards to spike his opponent on his skull, Zyon gets kneed in the head by the canny Stephens! He staggers, almost loses his balance and does lose his grip, allowing Stephens to drop back to his feet unharmed; the Triple Champion then grabs Zyon’s head in both hands and sits out with a jawbreaker!


“And just like that, the match gets turned on its head,” Francis comments, “Michael Stephens has halted Zyon’s momentum; now can he re-establish control?”


The World Champion seems to have every intention of doing just that, as he gets back to his feet and starts peppering Zyon with a














He steps back and winds up like a baseball pitcher…







“He didn’t duck it?” King asks in surprise, “come on, everyone ducks that!”


“Well, he is the Unique Youth.”


Michael Stephens is thanking his lucky stars that Zyon has bucked that particular trend, and grabs the challenger by the head to haul him upright. He’s not feeling too good at present and any sort of demanding offence is a little bit beyond him. However, it seems that Zyon thinks he knows neckbreakers… time to set him right.


“Swinging neckbreaker from Stephens, and he’s hanging on,” Francis calls as the champion spins sideways and takes Zyon down with him, then rolls back up to his feet with the challenger in tow. Mike twists around until he’s back-to-back with the younger wrestler, then sits out with a Hangman’s neckbreaker.




Mike still isn’t done though; he pulls Zyon up again, but this time threads his left arm underneath Zyon’s right to apply a tiger neck chancery. This time when he turns around Zyon’s right arm is already being stretched, and when Stephens sits out the shoulder takes another jarring shock in addition to that suffered by the Unique Youth’s neck. Stephens applies a cover and Kivell drops to count…


















…but Zyon kicks out, not yet willing to relinquish the chance of being three-time Cruiserweight champion! Stephens sighs and starts to pull Zyon up again, only to scoop him off his feet and slam him down again to the canvas before heading for the turnbuckles while spinning his fingers over his head in the universal symbol for ‘high risk’. The Triple Champion scales the turnbuckles to the top rope, then somersaults off to land a leg across Zyon’s throat with the Hangover!




Stephens makes another cover, making especially sure to hook the leg well…



















-but Zyon kicks out again! Stephens casts an irritated glance at Matthew Kivell, who shrugs; the Triple Champion shakes his head and drags Zyon up to his feet again, then takes his opponent’s right hand and starts to Irish whip him. However, as Zyon starts to go past him Stephens simply slams his knee up into the Indianan’s midsection, doubling him over; from there he grabs a half-nelson and takes hold of the back of the Unique Youth’s shorts, then hoists him off his feet before sitting out to drive his opponent into the mat with a facebuster.


“Stephens thought better of actually Irish whipping Zyon there,” Mak notes, “if he gives Zyon and chance to pick up speed he could hand the momentum back to the challenger.”


Figuring that it can’t hurt, Stephens uses the half-nelson to roll Zyon over onto his back and makes another cover…



















-but Zyon kicks out one more time! Stephens doesn’t waste anymore time by looking at the referee, instead grabbing Zyon and bringing the challenger up to a vertical base before placing him in a front facelock. He holds his right arm out to the side before bringing it swinging around for the Unfinished Business…


…and Zyon slips out of the front facelock as Stephens twists, then as the champion turns to try and get a bead on his opponent Zyon scoops him up, spins slightly on the spot and spikes him down with the Aero Driver!










“The momentum has shifted again!” Mak Francis yells as the Unique Youth rolls away from Michael Stephens and comes up to his feet, breathing hard, “Zyon avoided the Unfinished Business, but can he now capitalise?”


Some people would have gone for a cover straight after the Aero Driver, but not Zyon; he’s fairly sure it’s going to take more than that to keep Stephens down, and he wants to get in the perfect position to deliver that ‘more’. Accordingly he watches Stephens closely, and as the champion starts to rise shakily to his feet he adjusts position slightly, then darts in and makes a grab for a ¾ headlock in preparation for the Big Shot…


…but Stephens steps back at that last moment, grabs Zyon around the head and sits out to drive the back of his opponent’s skull into the mat!




“Underkill!” Mak yells, “what a counter! I haven’t seen Michael Stephens use that for over a year!”


For his part Stephens seems to have acted on instinct; he looks shocked as he realises how very close Zyon came to springing the Big Shot on him, but then he shakes himself into action and dives into the cover. It was only a split-second’s hesitation, but it might prove costly…




















-and Zyon kicks out!








Michael Stephens casts a quick glance out at the crowd as his old ring name starts ringing around the Kingdome, then grabs Zyon and hauls the challenger back up. He grabs a ¾ headlock and runs for the turnbuckles, towing the Unique Youth behind him… and just like before Zyon shoves him off, this time with enough force to send Stephens chest-first into the turnbuckles! The champion rebounds, winded, and Zyon spins him around before wrapping his arms across the Englishman’s chest and falling back to hit the Decline!




Zyon neglects to make a cover, instead rolling Stephens onto his back and stepping out to the apron. He starts climbing the ringpost from the outside, reaching the top and spreading his arms before leaping off for the Final Flash…


…but at the last moment Stephens rolls sideways towards the ringpost, and as Zyon realises he’s going to overshoot he changes his jump into a low dive, rolling as he hits the mat and coming smoothly up to his feet, then turning on a dime and accelerating back towards the champion. Stephens gets up, wondering where Zyon is-




-and Zyon pastes him in the face with his signature lunging Yakuza kick! The Unique Youth pretty much drops on top for the cover and hooks the leg…


























“So close!” Mak Francis barks, “Zyon nearly brought Michael Stephens’ undefeated streak to an end there to become the first three-time Cruiserweight Champion in SWF history!”


Zyon casts a hopeful look at Matthew Kivell but the referee remains firm; accordingly Zyon grabs Stephens head and brings the champion up to a sitting position, then drives a knee into the side of his opponent’s head. Stephens sways but just about remains upright, so Zyon slaps his knee to signal for the Shining Wizard and bounces off the ropes, picking up momentum as he charges forwards…


…and at the last moment Stephens seems to come to life, dropping backwards and sideways to take Zyon over with a drop toehold, then locking the Unique Youth’s legs together and leaning forward to apply the Regal Stretch!








The warring chants ring through the Kingdome as Stephens locks in the ¾ nelson facelock and wrenches back, stretching not only Zyon’s neck but also his damaged right arm. Matty Kivell bends down to check on Zyon but the Unique Youth remains adamant, stubbornly refusing to give it up!


“How long can Zyon take this?” Mak Francis asks.


“How long can Toxxic keep it up?” King fires back, “he’s not looking good!”


Sure enough Stephens still looks woozy, and when his dramatic counter doesn’t yield a quick submission the strain on his face from holding it is clear. He holds on as long as he can… but then has to release it, rolling to one side before he cramps up from the unnatural position. Zyon is in a lot of pain as well, and can’t do much to resist as Stephens grabs him and picks him up, then double-underhooks his opponent in preparation for the RTF II…


“If he locks this in I think it’s got to be over,” Mak comments, “Zyon’s about as softened up as he’s going to get!”


…but Zyon knows that as well, and the challenger’s adrenaline rush powers his muscles to back bodydrop his way out of the predicament, sending Stephens flying overhead! He gasps for air, filling his lungs with oxygen before turning and grabbing the champion before Mike can get up, then ducks under Stephens’ right arm in preparation for the Sambo Suplex… but Mike fires elbows into Zyon’s head to break his grip, then repositions their arms for the Side Effect… but now Zyon fires away with elbows, shaking Stephens and getting enough room to duck and take the champion onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s carry, then throwing the Englishman up into the air and dropping back to raise both knees so that Mike comes down into a gutbuster!




“He got him! He got him!” Mak yells as Stephens rolls away clutching his ribs, ending up on his back. Zyon takes a look for half a second… and knows that now is the time.


He grabs the top rope and with one last burst of effort springs straight up, twisting as he does so to land looking down into the ring.


He rises to his feet and spreads his arms wide to signal for the Final Flash.


And then, as camera flashes go off all around the Kingdome, he leaps into the air before angling down, back-first, towards his opponent.


He lands, hard.




On Michael Stephens’ knees.




“DENIED!” King yells gleefully.


Zyon rolls across the ring, but Michael Stephens is in pursuit. The grim-faced champion grabs Zyon as the challenger lies on his front, crosses the Indianan’s arms across his throat and rolls forward, pulling him up into an inverted Goku-Raku Clutch. Matthew Kivell drops to check on Zyon’s condition, which with no free hands to tap with and little air to give a verbal signal, is hard to determine. However, the referee doesn’t call for the bell yet as Zyon holds on.


And on.


And on.


Michael Stephens starts to shake, his battered body struggling to hold the bridge. And still Zyon holds on.






…and finally Stephens rolls to one side, unable to hold the bridge for any longer! There’s a cheer from the Zyon fans, but Stephens hasn’t released his hands yet. He drags Zyon up to his feet, still with the challenger’s hands in his grasp, then slams a headbutt into the Unique Youth’s face!




Zyon staggers and Stephens twists around until they’re back to back with Zyon’s arms now crossed over his throat again, then drops down into a Goku-Raku neckbreaker. From there he rolls onto his front, pulling Zyon with him, then rolls forward into the inverted Goku-Raku Clutch again.


As before, Zyon holds on.






…but only for a second.




“Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner and STILL~ SWF Cruiserweight Champion,” Funyon booms, “MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!”






Wearily, Stephens staggers to his feet and accepts the title belt back from Matthew Kivell, then leans on the ropes. Zyon starts to struggle up, bitter disappointment clearly visible in his eyes. Stephens seems to be about to move to help him, then stops; last time he wished Zyon better luck next time; it didn’t transpire. Something tells him that the last person Zyon will want to speak to right now is Michael Stephens. So he turns to face the crowd and raises his title belt in acknowledgement of their cheers.

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“What a great match that was,” Mak Francis says, “and the- hey, what’s happening?”


There is a disturbance in the crowd to one side of the Kingdome, unnoticed by either Zyon or Michael Stephens. Moments later two figures hop the guardrail into the ringside area, revealing themselves to be ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins and ‘The Beast’ Gabriel Drake! The crowd start booing in recognition, but the two men slide into the ring without a pause. Zyon and Stephens have worked out that something must be up and both men start looking around to try and work out what, but not quickly enough as Drake charges towards Stephens and levels him with a spear, while Spike hits Zyon with a lariat hard enough to nearly knock the young cruiserweight out of his boots!




“What the hell is going on here!?” Mak Francis yells angrily, “what gives these two thugs the right to attack Stephens and Zyon after their Cruiserweight Title match?”


“It’s the Kingdome!” Suicide King replies gleefully, “that’s reason enough!”


Spike Jenkins has grabbed the Cruiserweight Title and holds it ready; meanwhile Gabriel Drake hauls Michael Stephens to his feet and slaps his old friend in the face, then pushes him towards Spike; Jenkins doesn’t need any encouragement, and swings for the World Champion with all his might!






“Godammit!” Mak seethes, “Michael Stephens just gave his all defending that belt, and now Spike Jenkins has used it as a weapon on him, again! And- oh no, not Zyon as well!”


Sure enough, Spike is still holding the belt as Drake grabs Zyon and hauls the smaller man to his feet. The grin on the face of the Beast promises no mercy for the Unique Youth and he shoves the dazed Zyon towards Spike-




-who doesn’t hesitate in dealing out the same punishment as was given to his former leader and mentor!






“OK, Spike and Stephens have issues from way back, and Spike has issues with Zyon from nearly as long ago,” Mak says, “and we’re starting to see how much Gabriel Drake hates Stephens… but why is Drake attacking Zyon as well?”


“Two for one?” King speculates, “or maybe because Zyon’s just plain annoying? Hell, I’ve no idea why Francis, but I’m loving it nonetheless!”


But the twosome in the ring haven’t finished. Spike picks Zyon up as if for a suplex, but instead of bringing him over he simply places the Unique Youth’s feet on the top rope and holds his body stretched out. Meanwhile Gabe hoists Michael Stephens up onto his own back as if for a piggyback…


“No, the Mark of the Beast and Greetings for Cambodia?” Mak speculates.


Got it in one, Mak.








Spike drops down into a Diamond Cutter and drives Zyon’s face into the mat, while Gabe sits out and delivers the Mark of the Beast to Michael Stephens while the crowd shit on them. Black-shirted shapes start to run down the aisle as SWF Security comes out rather belatedly to try and drive Jenkins and Drake away… but Spike and Gabe simply turn on them and start knocking them back out of the ring as soon as they enter!


“This is chaos!” Mak shouts, “we need some help out here, and we need it fast!”




The mass roar of the crowd indicates that some rather more substantial help is indeed on the way, and the camera pans around to show Landon Maddix, Akira Kaibatsu and Amy Stephens pounding down the aisle - Landon carrying a chair, Akira a kendo stick and Amy with her brother’s signature brass knuckles on one hand and a beer bottle in the other! Gabe throws one last security guard over the top rope, then he and Jenkins catch sight of the trio bearing down on them; they exchange a quick glance, then bail as Maddix, Kaibatsu and Amy rush the ring! Landon swings with his chair and nearly catches Drake as The Beast dives out between the top and middle ropes, but has to content with himself with smashing it against the turnbuckles and yelling in frustration!


“Good plan,” King approves, “do the damage and then get the hell out of Dodge - after all, five on two isn’t fair odds.”


“Five on two!?” Mak fumes, “Drake and Jenkins jumped Zyon and Stephens - Akira, Landon and Amy wouldn’t be gunning for those two if they hadn’t taken cheap shots in the first place!”


“Yeah that’s right, you defend the side with the numerical advantage,” King sniffs, “typical.”


Spike and Drake are pushing their way through the crowd now, but Gabe isn’t too preoccupied to look back and laugh at Landon Maddix as the Tag Champion stares after him while Akira and Amy check on Zyon and Mike respectively.


“Fans, this has been another spectacular episode of Lockdown,” Mak Francis says, trying to get his anger under control, “and please join us for Smarkdown… when I don’t mind saying, I hope at least one of Gabriel Drake and Spike Jenkins gets the holy hell kicked out of him!”


The last shot of the show is of Zyon and Michael Stephens slowly being helped to their feet, the Cruiserweight Title lying where Spike dropped it, equidistant on the mat between both men.










©2006 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

‘Raising Workrate By Increasing Run-Ins’

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Joseph Peters considers himself to be something of a connoisseur of knocks (or, when he can’t remember how to spell connoisseur, an expert). In a job like his, you quickly learn to tell the mood of the knocker. For quite a few wrestlers on the roster he can actually tell their identity simply from the knock; the perfunctory tap of knuckles performed by Tom Flesher half a second before he opens the door no matter what; the deliberate thundering of Bruce Blank; the bizarre, irregular stacatto raps of Jimmy The Doom; the lazy percussions of Zyon that are sometimes barely audible; all these are as different from each other as, say, a heady Rioja is from a fragrant Sauvignon Blanc, or Budweiser is from one of Tom Flesher’s favourite porters. Peters prides himself on having a good idea of what each person wants, their mood and how best to handle them before he’s even uttered ‘come in’.


All this of course gets thrown out the window when the bastards don’t bother to knock.






Joe looks up from his desk (behind which a huge portrait of the Suicide King beams down) as his door crashes open and Michael Stephens storms in. Peters watches him, confidently expecting him to sit down in the chair opposite, lean menacingly over the desk and demand something.


Stephens picks up the chair and hurls it across the office into the wall, leaving a large dent in the wood. Peters gapes, momentarily lost for words… and now Stephens places his knuckles on the desk and leans over it.


“Do I have your full and undivided attention, Joe?”


“You’ll be giving your full and undivided attention to a disciplinary in about five minutes if you don’t-”


“Shut up,” Stephens cuts him off, and Peters is so taken aback that he does so. No-one tells him to shut up in his office! Although it seems someone just did…


“I want Gabe, and I want him on Smarkdown,” Stephens spits. “Make it happen. Landon got to you before me last time, and since then I’ve been too busy with all these damn titles, but I’ve had it. I’m not going to let that bastard lurk around in the shadows, take potshots at me whenever he feels like it and actually get in the ring with me when he’s ready, I’m going to shut him down now! I’m going to wrestle him,” Stephens tells Peters, “and I’m going to beat him. I’m not going to cripple him, I’m not going to kill him; I’m going to beat him, and let him know exactly how far he has to go before he can get to the top in the SWF. Then if he still wants to hang around and play pseudo-Satanic bigshot he can, but he and everyone else’ll know that I’m not scared of him, and I’m still bloody better than him!”


“And what in the name of everything profitable makes you think I’m going to throw away a potential money-spinner like Stephens vs. Drake on free TV?” Peters asks sharply. Stephens just grins.


“Because if you don’t, I’ll go find Gabe and tell him that I requested the match and you turned it down. He’s playing nice for you at the moment because he knows you’ll give him his match when the time’s right, but if he hears he’s had his chance and you refused… he’s not a patient man Joe,” Mike warns, “and if you think I’m annoying then just think what Gabe will be like if you’re between him and something he wants.”


“…let’s suppose I agree to this,” Peters says after a few seconds, stroking his chin, “there will have to be some terms.”


“There are three words that had better not be anywhere near your lips right now,” Stephens warns, “one of them is the opposite of ‘first’, the second is what I am and I assume you are unless you’ve had the operation yet, and the third one rhymes with ‘landing’.”


“I’m not talking match stipulations,” Peters snaps, waving a hand irritably, “you’ll get standard singles rules, but there’s a couple of things I will be insisting on. First, no escorts to the ring. That means Landon can’t come out with you, Amy can’t come out with you… no-one.”


“Fine,” Stephens nods.


“Secondly, I’ll inform you now that I will not be assigning any of the SWF’s referees to this contest due to the likelihood of it going straight to hell,” Peters says, glaring at the World Champion.


“Not even Izzy Slapowich?” Stephens asks, “I thought he was good with the high-risk stuff. Normally covers Bruce’s matches.”


“No,” Peters replies coldly. “I will be assigning someone else to this match, someone who I feel will be able to keep control of the situation better. And before you say anything,” he adds as Stephens’ mouth starts to open, “I can say with complete and utter truthfulness that I have no intention of assigning anyone who I believe will have any reason to favour one of you over the other. I intend for this match to be called down the line, and in strict accordance with the rules.”


“Makes a bloody change,” Stephens grunts, straightening up. “So that’s definite then? I’ve got Gabe on Smarkdown?”


“Yes,” Peters says, pencilling something down on the pad in front of him, “that’s definite. Now get the fuck out of my office before I get someone to charge you for criminal damage.”



* * * * * *



“Too easy,” Stephens mutters, shrugging into his trenchcoat and wincing from the pain in his ribs; Gabriel Drake’s spear can’t take all the blame for that, Zyon’s partially responsible as well.


“What?” Landon Maddix asks, picking up his bag.


“Peters hardly argued,” Mike says, grabbing his black holdall with his title belts securely zipped inside, “something’s not right. There’s no way he’d give a potential money match like this away for free that easily, even with the threat of Gabe breathing down his neck. It was like he was expecting it, and already had a plan.”


“Well, it can’t be that bad,” Maddix says, “hey, so you can’t have anyone out there with you - not a big deal, Drake can’t either. I mean, we can try and find out who the ref’s gonna be, but I dunno if Peters’d want to get either of you that pissed with a biased ref. And me and Amy’ll be watching from the back, if Spike tries anything we’ll be right out.”


“Yeah,” Stephens says, “I know, it’s just… I don’t like the idea of being outsmarted by Joe Peters on something, and I’m worried that’s what’s happening, know what I mean?”


“That would be really embarrassing,” Landon admits. “Now c’mon, I’m driving.”


“Wait, you’re driving?” Stephens protests, “when did that happen?”


“Partly from when you got hit in the head with a title belt,” Landon sighs, “because I don’t reckon you should be let behind the wheel of a vehicle after that. But mainly,” he admits, “because I don’t think you should be let behind the wheel of a vehicle anyway. Your driving sucks.”


“Well, I learned on the other bloody side of the road, didn’t I?” Stephens grumbles, handing the car keys to his tag team partner, “not my fault if you and the Europeans have both got it all wrong… hey, look,” he continues, “cheers for coming out and getting rid of those two bastards earlier. I mean, I know it’s mainly cos you want a healthy tag team partner and all, but still. Cheers.”


“Whoah,” Maddix says, appalled, “did you just thank me for something?”


“Don’t get bloody used to it,” Stephens mutters, trying not to look embarrassed, “but yeah, I figure I probably owe you for making sure that I didn’t end up bleeding on the Cruiserweight Title for the third time in three weeks. Now come on,” he continues, suiting actions to words, “let’s get bloody going.”


“…but this is great!” Landon enthuses, hurrying after him, “we’ve just taken a massive step towards proving that you’re actually human!”


“Piss off, Landon.”


“Come on, we can sing some songs as we drive!”


“Songs? When the bloody hell did I get teamed with Alan Frickin’ Clark?”


“…that’s not funny.”

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