chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF SMARKDOWN Live, Monday, October 16th, from the Arena Auditorium?!!?! in Laramie, Wyoming! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - SPECIAL GUEST REFEREE Michael Stephens ©©© vs. Gabriel Drake -> A match that's been a few weeks... ... scratch that... ... a few YEARS in the making! Michael Stephens may be a triple champion, but that's not enough for him - not while Gabriel Drake is still walking! The Beast has been hounding Stephens since his arrival, and Michael ain't gonna take it no more! These two finally meet face to face, with a twist - Joseph Peters doesn't believe any SWF officials are capable of containing this fight, so he's appointing a referee of his own! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins -> If there's one thing people don't really appreciate around here, it's getting the crap kicked out of them before and/or after matches. I don't know why, it's just a common pet peeve our wrestlers seem to have. In any case, the post-main-event beatdown on Michael Stevens has ENRAGED~! his tag team partner, and he's not just going to sit there and make smug remarks! Tonight, Landon will attempts to exact revenge on one of the agressors - attempt being the key word, as "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins is not a man one should take lightly! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Nighthawk vs. Ultimo Phantasmo -> Two losses in a row would be enough to discourage any rookie - fortunately for us, Nighthawk isn't just any rookie. He's freaking Nighthawk! He attempts to turn his luck around tonight against the Ultimoooooooooooooo PHantaaaaasmoooooo! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Opening Promo: The Brand Spankin' New International Champion, Johnny Dangerous! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 BOOM! BOOOOOOOOM! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!! The opening round of pyrotechnic explosions rock the inside of the Arena Auditorium in Laramie, Wyoming as Smarkdown kicks off! The crowd is packed tighter than a can of sardines, but every single one of them is on their feet cheering, jumping and waving their signs. The camera pans the ring, which is covered in bright red carpet, and furnished with a luxurious couch and matching love seat. On the side of the ring facing the entranceway, there are two tall columns joined by an arch; stretching between the columns is a thick velvet rope. In the center of the set is a microphone stand. “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” says Mak Francis, “it’s time for another installment of the House of Marvelous! What a way to kick of tonight’s broadcast!” “I’ll say,” chimes King. “The House of Marvelous has been nothing but a ratings explosion since its debut! Each show has delivered something juicy to our fans and I can’t wait to see what this installment brings!” “Well, lets get to it than!” With that, Notorious BIG’s “I Love the Dough” begins to play as Michael Anderson limps his way onto the stage, pimping a white Armani and wearing a matching fedora. Behind him is the mammoth bodyguard Tracey Bruner, his charcoal colored suit a stark contrast to that of his employer. “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “please welcome: Sir… MAAAAARVELOUS!” Marvelous greets everyone with a smile as he makes his way to the ring. He walks slowly up the steel steps, and then waits on Bruner to get up to the apron and hold open the ropes for him before he enters the ring. Once inside, he then waits for Bruner to unhook the velvet rope before he passes through the arch and picks the microphone up from the stand as his music fades out, and a lone spotlight shines down on him from above. “Good evening, Wyoming!” Anderson drawls enthusiastically, “and welcome to the House of MAAAAARVELOUS! I am your host, Sir Marvelous, and I couldn’t even begin to tell you how excited I am to bring you the first installment of the House of Marvelous for the new SWF year!” “I could sure tell you excited I’d be if that spotlight fell on him,” mutters Mak Francis. King just jabs his elbow into the Franchise’s side. “Now, as you all may know by now...well those of you in this state with televisions should know that I like each and every edition of House of Marvelous to be better than the last. We had some pretty exciting ones previously so I came prepared to deliver today…I promise to deliver the answers to that questions that all of you have! So without further a due, let’s bring out my guest!” The lights dim 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! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! Johnny Dangerous; the Barracuda, swipes aside the curtains and steps onto the stage wearing his customary techno-black ring attire, high-tech shades, and trademarked earpiece. One new addition to his dress is the bright, shiny gold belt wrapped around his waist. He makes his way down the aisle, towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans and flashing that smile that could sell a million movie tickets. “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Anderson. “Please give a warm House of Marvelous welcome for: the NEW AND REIGNING SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS!” Johnny slides into the ring, climbs the corner post, and holds the International Championship aloft for the fans as flashbulbs explode from all four sides of the Arena Auditorium. Johnny hops down and heads for the archway, even as ridiculous as it may be. Tracy Bruner is pleased the Barracuda has learned since his last visit to the set and he unhooks the velvet rope to let Dangerous pass then hooks it back as the Barracuda passes. “Welcome to the House of Marvelous, Johnny,” says Anderson, as the Barracuda’s music fades. Johnny slings the title belt over his shoulder and grabs the spare microphone with his free hand, ready to answer whatever may come his way. “What a thrill it must be to have the International Championship back,” Marvelous continues. “This is the belt that you created when you merged the United States Championship with the Intercontinental Championship. It’s not to often that I have the chance to interview a man who was the first and now current holder of any Championship, and believe me I have a ton of questions…but before I get to those I have to give you the floor out of respect. So what do you say, Johnny Dangerous?” “I have to say I couldn’t be any happier than I am right now to be here Laramie, Wyoming, as your International Champion!” Johnny excitedly shouts to the cheers of many. “Most of you might recall the last time that I was the International Champion--it didn’t exactly come about in a time of my life that I’m particularly fond of, and I’ll be the first to admit that. However, I’m glad--” “Hold on a second there, Mister Dangerous,” drawls Anderson, not even thinking twice about interrupting. It is his show, after all, and sometimes every great interviewer has to cut people off in order to steer the conversation to the topic of most interest. Nonetheless, his lack of consideration garners some scattered boos from the audience. “It’s great that you want to be a better man than we know you for,” he continues, “which is where you were going with all that I’m guessing.” Anderson pauses, looking at the Barracuda for a response. Johnny nods, but not without a furrowed brow. “However, the entire reason I asked Joseph Peters to cut your opening timeslot and replace it with the House of Marvelous is because nobody wants to hear about the past, we want to hear about where this is all going—just consider me your guide to the future.” “I think someone needs to guide him to the front door,” Francis comments, sharing in some of the dislike for Anderson with the crowd. “That’s two times now on the House of Marvelous that Anderson’s rudely interrupted the Barracuda.” “And both of those interruptions were greatly needed,” the Gambling Man counters. “I’ve had about all I can stand of Dangerous’ ‘I’m a changed man’ shtick.” “Recently,” Anderson begins once more, “it’s come to my attention that what your future holds is a return to the scene that made you famous – tag team wrestling!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” The crowd pops beautifully for Andersons report. Obviously, there is still plenty of interest in the Barracuda wrestling tags in Wyoming, and possibly the rest of the country too. Anderson glances back and forth between the crowd seated past all four ends of the ring with a big smile. “However, you can’t exactly be a very good tag team wrestler without a tag team,” says Marvelous, dropping his smile and taking a much more serious, monotone voice. “Wildchild is long gone and you know you can’t blame him…you know you can’t! I mean, come on - would you want to stick around in a place where your best friend—someone so close to you that you called your brother--will turn on you quicker than you can snap your fingers!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “What in the heck!? Why is Marvelous bringing all of that up for?” shouts Mak. Dangerous isn’t too pleased either. He balls up a tight fist but Bruner is quick to step closer towards Marvelous and Johnny knows he wouldn’t have much of a chance against the bug bruiser. “Now before you get all huffy, Mister Dangerous, I’m simply recalling the facts of the matter,” says Anderson. “And there is a point to all of this, so hold on here. The fans and I are all dying to know; who exactly are you going to get to tag with you? Who is willing to tag with Johnny Dangerous?” Marvelous pauses, letting his question sink in. Finally, he turns towards to face the direction of the curtains. “Is there anyone in the back that would be willing to join forces with the Barracuda!? Someone! Anyone!” “What a jerk,” the Franchise mutters, as everyone in the audience looks towards the curtains, waiting to see who will come out. Surely there is someone backstage that doesn’t care about the past and is about to come out! “Alas,” Marvelous continues, after a few moments of silence, and nothing coming through the curtains except for a gentle breeze, “there is nobody willing to take that risk. Now,” he says, turning back towards the Barracuda, but Johnny puts his hand up to speak! “Anderson!” Johnny begins, “I don’t know what in the hell makes you think you have any business getting in mine!” “You tell him,” cheers Mak. King looks at the Franchise and gingerly runs his finger across his nose. “I know damn well what kind of situation I’m in,” the Barracuda continues. “Yes, there is apparently a clause in my contract that says I must spend a certain amount of my time tagging, but…I’m not tagging with anyone! You see, Peters may have tried to sneak something into that contract about me spending time competing with tag teams…but he didn’t say I had to find a partner! And hell, if I can’t find a partner than maybe I’ll just have to do it myself…” “He’s insane! Even Johnny Dangerous couldn’t seriously think that he’s so good that he can take on two men at once,” says the King of Hearts. “Jimmy the Doom was a one man tag team,” adds Mak. “…so when Lockdown comes around you’ll see if I was able to find someone to trust me or not,” Johnny continues and finishes, tossing the microphone down at the end of his statement. Johnny’s music kicks up and he doesn’t hesitate to leave the ring, rolling out and heading straight up the ramp… As we: FADE OUT. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 Nighthawk/Ultimo to be edited in, I hope. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here backstage with Gabriel Drake,” Ben Hardy says, looking slightly nervously over his shoulder at the imposing figure of The Beast behind him. “Gabriel, in the main event tonight you have a chance to go one-on-one with the man you seem to have had your sights set on since you stepped into the SWF at Ground Zero - the World Heavyweight Champion, Michael Stephens. Without giving too much away, what is your gameplan for tonight?” “Quite simple Benjamin,” Drake smirks, wrapping some athletic tape around his wrist, “I intend to wrestle him into the ground.” Ben Hardy stares at him for a couple of seconds, apparently lost for words. “Problem?” Drake asks, finishing the roll of tape and throwing it casually away over one shoulder. “Don’t just stand there Hardy, say something.” “Uh… well no, no problem, of course,” Hardy hastily covers, “it’s just that… with the history that we know lies between you and Stephens, even if we’re not necessarily all clear on the exact details, I think quite a few of our viewers would have expected you to go out all guns blazing, as it were. I mean,” the interviewer continues nervously, “a technical wrestling clinic isn’t the way most people would normally go to settle an old rivalry…” “Maybe not, but then I’m not like most people,” Drake says, leaning just a little closer to Hardy than the other man is comfortable with, “you see, I know Toxxic. I trained with him, and I know that whatever fancy knick-knacks he may throw out against someone like Zyon, he can’t match me on the mat. He never could, and he never will. Now Ben,” he continues, “if I was to go in there and try to wrestle a high-impact, high-speed match with a focus on crushing and destroying, well,” he laughs nastily, “much as that would be pleasant, it wouldn’t get the job done. Toxxic’s as slippery as they come, and the higher the risks are the more likely he is to get that one key thing… that one dodge, that one counter, that one desperation move that turns it around on you. But if I control the pace of the match, if I keep him grounded on the mat and don’t give in to the temptation of smashing the life out of him… I won’t destroy him physically, but by exposing his weakness and beating him I’ll destroy him mentally.” He smirks and steps back slightly, giving Hardy a little more room, then turns to face into the camera. “I know how fragile you are, Toxx. Once I’ve shown you up for the one-dimensional circus trick you are, your confidence will go. Everyone else you’ve faced never knew the real you - whatever they believed about you, you could bluff them with that stupid grin, some incomprehensible English gibberish and a lucky winning streak. They never picked your drunk ass up off the floor in the days before you went ‘straight-edge’. They never saw you crying out of homesickness. They never saw me nearly ripping your arm off in the gym, desperately trying you to teach you some basics of mat wrestling. Everything you’ve shown these people is a hollow lie, a trick you’ve invented to prevent your adoring public realising that you’re 200lbs of worthless guts and nail polish. By the end of tonight, they’ll see how easy it was for this ‘rookie’ to take you down and take you apart, and when I’m done no-one will look at you in the same way again. They’ll be queuing up to take your titles from you, and I’ll have shown them the way.” He leans down into the camera, nearly blocking out the light. “The past four years left their mark on me, Toxx. Now they’re going to leave their mark on you. The Mark… of the Beast.” FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 "Okay, up next two SWF mainstays to go one on one in the battle of 'people that SWF commentators strongly dislike'. World Tag Team Champion Landon Maddix takes on 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins, stemming from the chaotic ending to Lockdown where Spike Jenkins was involved in that sneak attack on Landon's tag team partner Michael Stephens, plus of course Zyon and with Gabriel Drake's help. Landon eventually ran the duo off, bu..." "Woah, hold up a second!" protests King, as loudly and quickly as possible. "Can we clarify that last bit please? Landon didn't run anybody off. Landon, with a steel chair, didn't run anyone off. Landon, plus a bottle wielding psychopathic woman and Akira Kaibatsu with a stick ran Spike and Gabe off. Three on two, I might add." "What does that matter?" "All I'm saying is, at least Spike and Gabe did things with equal odds." "You've got to be ki..." Mak starts, before realising there's no reasoning with King in this mood and sighing. "Let's go to the ring." Right on cue, the arena completely whites out as every light is switched to full power. And for the full, agonising sensory experience, the sound of needle on vinyl screeches through the Arena Auditorium, people in the crowd squinting and cringing until, eventually, *BAM* go the drums into Norma Jean’s “Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only to Destroy It”. “Like bringing a knife to a gun fight… Like Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight… LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUN FIGHT!” "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" The hooded figure of Spike Jenkins emerges as the growls hit the crowd, dropping to one knee with one arm hanging at his side. With a quick punch of the steel staging Spike then raises his arms across his chest in a symbolic "X", before popping back to his feet and marching to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, hailing from Hollywood, California. He weighs in tonight at two hundred and twenty pounds... proudly representing the historic, scenic Kingdom of Cambodia! This is "HOLLYWOOD"... SSSSSSSPPIIIIIIIIKKEEEEE... JJJJEEEEEENNKKIIIIIIIIINNSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!" "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "So, did we decide who hated who more?" asks King, whilst Spike makes his way right around the ring. "Well, Spike put me in this wheelchair. So, draw you own conclusions." "Yeah... but, Landon IS pretty annoying." argues King. "I'd say it's a tie at worst." Rolling into the ring, Spike comes up in centre ring on one knee, as before. Looking out into the crowd as he rises to his feet, the hood comes down from around Hollywood's head to reveal a cold look on his face, throwing up the "X" once more as he flicks the blonde hair from his eyes. Spike doesn't hold it for long though, turning back to the entrance way as he disrobes of the hoodie and pitches it absent-mindedly behind him. "Tell me exactly, what am I supposed to do Now that I have allowed you, to beat me! Do you think that we could play another game Maybe I could win this ti-ime." "I kinda like the misery you put me through Darling you can trust me, completely! If you even try to look the other way I think that I could kill this ti-ime!" As "The Game" by Disturbed fires into gear the curtains ripple, at the hands of Megan Skye, dramatically heralding the arrival of Landon Maddix. All normal fare, except the reaction of the crowd, sweeter than Landon has been used to for over a year, even without the presence of everyone's favourite triple champion at his side. Even Landon's grandious look to the heavens above and thrusting outwards of the arms gets cheered. How times change. "And, introducing his opponent! Accompanied to the ring by his manager MEGAN SKYE! Hailing from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... he weighs two hundred, twenty pounds. One half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions... LLLLAAAAAAANNDDOOOOOOOOOOOONN... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMMMMAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXX!!!!!" "YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Landon vaults to the apron and insists on referee Sexton Hardcastle keeping Spike back, while Megan scales the ring steps. With a shared smile and a wink Megan then holds the ropes open for Maddix, allowing him his grandious spin into the ring. "What an attention whore." King snipes, unimpressed with Landon or the reaction he's garnering. "What the hell is hoping to achieve with all this? Why can't people just walk to the ring and wrestle nowadays, without all this showboating nonsense?" "It's called charisma, King." "Charisma chashisma. That's ego! And yet, here these morons are cheering for Maddix. Nevermind everything he's done to torment and run riot across this company over the past ten months! A few flashes of the pearly whites and a couple of handshakes with everybody's favourite, Toxxic, and he's able to get away with this show-off stuff with a free pass." "Wrestling is a strange mistress." admits Mak. Spike seems no more impressed with Landon's theatric as The Gambling Man is at ringside, watching on from a corner of the ring from underneath drooped eyelids, his arms lounges over the top rope as he impatiently waits for Landon to remove his jacket. Wardrobe taken care of, Landon is now ready to go, limbering up as Hardcastle calls for the bell. *DINGDINGDING!* "You know, for someone who's supposed to be fighting for his partner's honour, Maddix seems mighty content." points out King, for arguement's sake as usual. Jigging out his corner, the contented La Cucaracha offers up his hands to Spike for some variety of a lock-up. What variety we'll never find out though, as when Spike goes to initiate the knucklelock, Landon quickly pulls his hands back and runs them through his hair before treating Wymoing to a Nature Boi Strut! "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" "Ugh." King grunts. "Landon doesn't want to get drawn into a chain wrestling exchange with Spike here tonight." "Oh, no! Heaven forbid that a wrestler get drawn into a wrestling match on a wrestling show! That would just be terrible." Spike just watches on with a snarl as Landon finishes up his strut and does a quick bounce off the ropes, either to test their spring or just to finish the impression. Finally it seems we're ready to go as Spike dares Landon go in for a collar and elbow tie-up. Predictably, Landon declines and tries to sweep behind into a rear waistlock. That predictability allows Spike to avoid that though, instead twisting 180 with Landon as he attempts to go behind and comes up with a front facelock on the kneeling La Cucaracha. Slapping the mat in frustration, Landon now attempts to search out an escape but just when you think you've got the counter, Spike Jenkins changes the questions, as he goes from facelock to headlock, in the form of the controversial cravat! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "How can they boo that!?" snaps King. "All these months of Maddix bastardising this move and now, when someone competent uses it, they get the Grappler treatment!" Despite having the move in his arsenal for the past few months, Landon doesn't seem too quick to impliment a counter. Spike keeps Landon pinned down on his knees with the neck contorted off to the left, putting all of his weight and leverage behind the wrenching of the hold. Finally Maddix taps his head and lets everyone know he has a plan, as he rolls through... ...but Spike rolls with him, coming back up with the cravat still applied. "Damnit!" snaps Maddix as Spike re-asserts his position standing over Landon. Landon tries to power up to his feet also, but Spike steps down on the back of his right knee and puts him back down to one knee. Releasing the cravat, Spike then transitions into a side headlock on the other side, tumbling forward and taking Landon over with a headlock takedown, which leaves Maddix pinned down on his shoulders... ONE! T... Landon shoots the shoulder, but Spike still has the headlock clamped on. For extra emphasis Spike rolls towards Landon's feet, pulling up on the head to the point Landon is virtually choking himself with his own jawbone. Spike is unable to hold that for long though, so he rolls back and tries the pin again... ONE! T... Kickout again. "Spike putting a lot of pressure on this side headlock, a much more effective move than people give credit." "In the right hands." adds King. "Like Spike Jenkins' hands. Most people, i.e Landon, just throw it on because it's an easy choice. Spike is doing something with it." Climbing back to his feet, Landon still finds himself trapped in the headlock, so is forced to go to the gut with an elbow. Another elbow weakens Spike up, followed up by a third to set up a trip into the ropes, Landon backing him off and shooting him across the ring... ...but Landon goes right with him, as Spike clings onto the headlock regardless! Megan can sense her man's frustration and encourages him not to worry, despite the fact he's in a seemingly unescapable side headlock. The worst kind of headlock. Landon goes to the gut a couple more times as he climbs to his feet again, but this time, rather than trying to push Spike off Maddix instead lifts Spike up, dropping him with a back suplex... ...only for Spike to STILL hang onto the headlock! "What tenacity from Spike Jenkins!" chirps King. "Wonderful!" "I'm not sure Spike is going to win with a headlock, but then again, who knows. If Landon can't get out, eventually he'd have to give up." Shaking off the suplex, Spike rolls over with reassert the headlock. Once he realises the failure to escape the hold Landon then hooks up a leg and levers Spike over onto his shoulders... ONE! T... Only two, Spike pushing back off his shoulders. Landon quickly tries again... ONE! T... Again only two, with Spike this time pulling up on the headlock again to prevent Maddix going for a third pinfall attempt. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" Rolling to his knees, Spike wrenches away on the headlock some more ready for the next attempted escape. Maddix's head is growing ever more red as his head remains trapped in this human vice and he knows he has to get out, going back to his Plan A as he fires off the forearms to the gut before pushing Spike off...NO, Spike hangs on. Maddix is determined now though and he clambers to his knees. Forearms to the gut rain in again before Landon backs into the ropes, shoving a hand into the back and...NO, Spike skids to his knees and keeps on the headlock! Having been in one form of a headlock or another for a good couple of minutes now Landon needs to summon all the strength he can get now. And Megan obliges, slapping the ring apron and rallying the crowd behind Landon as he determinedly pulls himself back up to his feet again. Elbow! Elbow! Elbow! Elbow! Back into the ropes they go and with a gutteral roar Landon pushes Spike... ...OUT OF THE HEADLOCK! "YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" So relieved is Landon to be out of the headlock though, he forgets about Spike. And off the ropes shoots The King Of Camodia, barrelling right back at Landon... *THUD!* ...and MOWS him down with a LARIAT! "OH! The Lariat, Spike got him early!" shouts Mak, as Spike scrambles on top with the cover... ONE! TWO! TH- NOOOOO! "YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!" "All that work on the neck almost paid off big for Spike Jenkins there with that big Lariat, early in the match as it is. But he only got the two." "No matter," argues King, "the damage has clearly been done." Arguing the count with Hardcastle, Jenkins is in danger of losing his focus for a moment. A moment interrupted by Landon crawling over towards him, a quick elbow jarring the back of Landon's neck before Spike re-applies the cravat. "Right back to the headlocks." sighs Mak, trying not to sound too bias. With the neck already weakened Maddix seems powerless to counter as Jenkins wrenches down on the cravat in the centre of the ring. Referee Hardcastle is compelled to check for a submission now but Landon isn't quite that worn down and he doesn't quit. Just the opposite, firing some backhands off into Spike's abdomen. Spike fires down a headbutt to nullify him though. Once Landon is weakened down off goes the cravat, Spike turning off to the left and applying the more traditionalside headlock. And as before he drops to his knees looking for the side headlock takeover... ...but Landon stops short and counters with an Oklahoma Roll... "Out of nowhere..." ONE! TWO! NO! "NO!" confirms Mak. "Spike, maybe once to the well too often and Landon had a counter." "Fluke counter." Both men scramble to their feet and Spike clearly has intentions of going back to the headlock yet once more, but Landon weaves underneath his lunge and ends up behind, waiting on Spike to turn around... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and landing a knifedge chop! "Here comes the fightback from Landon and this is what he needs to do, a little hit and move." encourages Mak. *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...another knifedge finds the mark. "Obviously he's failed to out-wrestle Spike, so Maddix has to resort to brawling." *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and a third knifedge. "Spike's no slouch in the striking department himself though." admits Mak. With Spike left slumped over, favouring his stinging chest, Landon fires a punting kick up across the collarbone. Spike is snapped upright and immediately sent hurtling into the turnbuckles courtesy of an irish whip. And there he stays, as Maddix jogs into the opposite corner and comes charging back, leaping skywards to come crashing down with a big diving forearm smash in the corner! Spike ends up smushed by all of Landon's weight and gets a forearm in the mush for good measure, leaving him to stumble aimlessly out of the corner. Backed up, Maddix is waiting on him, leaping onto the shoulders and bringing Spike over with a quick Hurri-Lanrana, not dropping him on his head but rather taking him into a neat little pin... ONE! TWO! NO! While the adrenaline is flowing the World Tag Champion looks to make use of it as he scrambles forward, exiting the ring and heading towards the top rope. "Landon's gonna take a risk here!" Mak calls. "Just as he got Spike where he wanted him too." "You sound surprised, we should all be used to Maddix ballsing things up by now." "He's ballsed nothing up yet." Spike is still technically where Landon wants him, but his position on the top rope isn't the most stable in the world. Especially when you've got someone bearing down on you, charging at the turnbuckles intent on clipping your ankles from underneath you. Landon thinks quickly though and vaults off the top before Spike can reach him, kicking back with both feet on the way down, connecting with Spike's back and sending him sprawling sternum first into the turnbuckles in front! "YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" "Mushroom Stomp!" comes the cheer from Mak, impartiality failing. "And Jenkins eats turnbuckle for good measure, how's that for ballsing things up?" "Ballsing isn't even a word." sulks King. Landon's entire body seems to jolt on landing, but he manages to catch himself relatively safely. Stumbling back out of the corner, Spike this time falls into a schoolboy cradle... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Landon cradles his neck as he comes back to his feet and helps up Jenkins, keeping the pressure on with a quick double-whammy of forearm shots. With a slap of the elbow, Maddix then gets a run-up on his third... giving Spike time to gain his bearings and sweep low with a Soccer tackle, cutting Landon's right leg out from underneath him! Quick as a flash, Spike is up, because his opponent is in perfect position... *SMACK!* "OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" ...for the Dangerous Wizard, right to the neck!! Landon slumps forward groggily, getting pushed to the canvas and pinned by Spike, leg hooked... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "Wow! A vicious kick, but only a two for Jenkins." says Mak with surprise. And relief. Spike is surprised too, sitting up to his knees and staring at referee Hardcastle. With his neck unnaturally rigid, Landon slowly gets up, but Spike is waiting behind him, firing off a quick European uppercut to the back of the neck! Landon slumps back to the mat in a heap and Spike decides to try his luck, cradling Landon up and stacking him on his shoulders... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "Another kickout, but you can see Landon's neck is hanging by a thread here." "Must be from that gruelling match with Grappler on Lockdown." sneers King, earning him a small electric shock from his special kayfabe controlled headset. Sensing one big move will end it, Spike slaps his elbow and measures Landon for another Lariat. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" The crowd, with Megan's persuasion, camp themselves firmly in La Cucaracha's corner as he slowly climbs back to his feet. Jenkins promptly rushes into the ropes in front ready for the Lariat... ...AND GETS TRIPPED BY MEGAN! "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" "What the hell!?" snaps King, so enraged that he virtually comes out of his seat. "That's the closest Spike's been to a woman in years," smiles Mak, "look at that nappy hair." "Boo-hoo, I'm in a wheelchair. Get over it would you? The real issue here is, Landon is cheating and should be disqualified right now!" Harsh words are exchanged between Spike and the 'innocent' Megan, who presumes that Spike must have caught his foot on the ring apron. Hardcastle doesn't buy that for a second but can't call what he didn't see, thus doesn't call the trip. He does have a call to make though, as Landon sneaks up behind The New Straight Edge Sensation and cradles him into an O'Conner roll... ONE! TWO! NO! Jenkins kicks out and by virtue Maddix is sent into the ropes. Back rebounds Landon and he goes for his forearm from earlier. This time, Spike's counter is a knee to the gut, setting him up for the Lariat from earlier. Off the ropes fires Jenkins, this time off a side not patrolled by the devious Ms. Skye so he can come charging back trip free. Maddix is a step ahead though and ducks the Lariat, catching Spike under the arm and head ready for the Complete Shot. Part panic, part instinct, Spike fires off a succession of elbows to Landon's already weakened neck to put pay to that though and sweeps Landon down by his now inactive arm with a Fujiwara takedown. However, rather than the armbar that you'd expect to follow, Spike ducks underneath the arm and clamps on a crossface to the despair of Megan on the floor! "The Strong Island Stretch is applied!" cries The Franchise. "Nevermind the effects on the shoulder and the back, this move is also ripping away at Landon's neck, the focus of Spike right from the opening moments of the match!" "That's no accident, either. Wonderful wrestling from my man, Spike Jenkins!" "...go Landon..." Pushing up on his tippy-toes, Spike bridges back to add more pressure on the neck and back but also to prevent Landon from seeking out the ropes as his tag partner had done from this position almost 4 weeks ago. Landon howls in pain as he looks around frantically, his line of vision a little above the top rope meaning he has to wing it and just crawl forward, hoping to find the ropes. Another bridge up from Spike stops Landon's crawl though, the damage to the neck coming back to haunt Landon. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" Again the fans are right behind their Skinny White Guy and he takes heart from the support, balling up his fist and pushing up on his free hand to create breathing space between body and canvas. Landon then tries to sneak his knees in underneath his body, but Spike manages to power him back down again! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" With the escape denied, Landon dejectedly settles back into the hold. Apparantly, powering out of the hold isn't an option. So, instead, Landon BITES SPIKE'S WRIST!! "YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "No fair, no fair!" howls King to no avail, as Landon now gets to his knees, still biting away... ...aleviating the angle of his neck... ...and allowing him to roll through to safety! "YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" "There's some smart wrestling from Landon, great escape." Mak comments as the commentary table becomes even more like a schoolyard than usual. "How dare you condone that!?" Shaking away the pain from his wrist, Spike closes on Maddix... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and earns another knifedge chop! *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and another! Apparantly Spike has read up on his 'Wrestling Rule Of 3' though and pre-empts the third chop with a Soccer tackle... ...HURDLED by Landon, who lands across Spike's back and quickly hooks the head for the Land Of Nod!! "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" "YES!" cheers Mak. "Submission is applied by Maddix now..." Before he can clamp the hold on though, Landon is sent tumbling away with a snapmare by Spike. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "YES!" cheers King. "In your face!" "I know you are, but what am I?" "..." Both men are quickly back up and with the jump on his opponent, Spike does a quick 360 on the spot, coming ROARING with an elbow... but in that time, Maddix has spun his own 360 through the air, his a horizontal spin, ending with a Cucaracha Kick right in the face for Spike Jenkins!! "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" "Yowza!" cheers Mak. "That spinning Gamengiri, a kick right to the face!" "That's what Gamengiri means, moron!" "I know you are, but what am I?" "GAH!" Despite the aching neck, Landon is able to crawl quickly over and drape himself over top of Cambodia's sole SWF representative... ONE! TWO! THR- NOOOOOOOOOO! Shoulder up! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "At the very, VERY last second!" groans Mak. "You're so bias, it's untrue." complains King, pointing angrily at the open-mouthed Mak. "And if you say I know you are but what am I, I will jam this pen so far up your ass you'll eventually be able to feel it." "...takes one to know one." Landon questions the count with Hardcastle and kicks at the mat frustratedly, sure that the kick should have finished Jenkins off. It didn't though and Spike is back up, groggily dragging Landon around to face him. A Shotei strike is blocked though, Maddix going to the gut with a knee before vaulting up with another Hurri-Lanrana... ...BLOCKED! "YES! RATINGS CLASH, RATINGS CLASH!" Realising he's in trouble, Landon frantically reaches out for the ropes, the mat, anything to prevent his arms being hooked behind the legs. Spike manages to step through and pin the left leg behind the knee but Maddix is flailing with the right, preventing the stepover. So Spike punts Maddix in the back of the head a couple of times to soften him up, before trying to step over again. Landon slams his legs together though, sandwiching the feet across Jenkins' ears. Another sandwiching causes Spike to drop Landon down, The Next Generation scrambling through Spike's legs and to safety! Or so he thinks, as Spike assesses his position and backflips, with the Pele Kick... ...NO! Landon sidesteps and Spike lands right on the top of his head! "Proof that Americans can soccer tackle, but the finer points are beyond them maybe." snipes Francis. Taking a heavy landing, Spike struggles to pull himself up, getting no more than one knee on the canvas... ...as Landon rushes the ropes... *SMACK!* "YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" ...AND CONNECTS WITH THE SHINING WIZARD!!! "Right in the face!!" cheers Mak. "GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!" Spike is out cold, as Maddix slumps on top and counts along... ONE! TWO! THREEEEE!!! *DINGDINGDING!* Maddix rolls out of the ring and right into a cold towel around the neck, Megan helping her man towards the back. "Your winner of this contest... LANDON "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXX!!!!" "Great victory for Landon." mugs Mak, noting King's silence beside him. He perservered through the neck injury and scores the fall in the end, earning some vengeance for his tag team partner in the process. Wonderful! King, any comments?" "...Jerk." "I know you are bu...ah, too easy. Back after this!" Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “the following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall and is your main event of the evening!” The lights start to strobe a cold, eerie blue and the echoing guitars of ‘The Devil’s Rejects’ by Rob Zombie start up. The main beat begins to thud out, and the crowd instantly starts to show their disapproval. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” ‘I am the bad one Distant and cruel one I am the dream that keeps you running…’ “Introducing first, from Athens, Georgia,” Funyon continues, “he weighs in tonight at 258lbs and has yet to be pinned or made to submit in the SWF… ‘The Beast’ GAAAAAAAAAAA-BRIEL… DRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!” ‘HELL DOESN’T WANT THEM! HELL DOESN’T NEED THEM! HELL DOESN’T LOVE THEM! The Devil’s Rejects… The Devil’s Rejects…’ Gabriel Drake has made his way out onto the soundstage and is now walking down the aisle towards the ring; The Beast doesn’t seem to be aware of the fans’ presence, no matter how much they shout at him. His attention is fixed solely on the ring, and the upcoming match. “Well fans, we’re about to see what could be a landmark match in the SWF,” Mak Francis notes, “because this man Gabriel Drake is about to go one-on-one with Michael Stephens! We understand that they were old friends at the same wrestling academy before Drake got sentenced to four years in jail for manslaughter; we don’t know the details, but what we do know is that Drake seems to hold Stephens responsible for it, and rumour has it that our current World Champion may have ended up sleeping with a girl Drake was seeing at the time, or something like that…” “Yeah right,” King snorts, “Toxxic sleeping with a woman, that’s a good one.” “You remember Jet, right King?” “I said ‘woman’, not ‘batshit crazy jumping bean’.” Gabriel Drake has now stepped into the ring and performs a couple of stretches to warm up while Funyon keeps a suspicious eye on The Beast, well aware of the man’s mercurial and violent nature. “You might note that there is no referee currently in the ring,” the Franchise notes, “we understand that Joe Peters has decided to assign a special referee to this match, not someone currently on the SWF’s referee roster, someone whom he believes has a good chance of keeping Drake and Stephens in order. I certainly don’t envy this person one bit, because I think this could get very violent very quickly…” “You’re over-dramatising again Mak,” King sniffs, “we heard Gabriel earlier tonight where he clearly stated his intention to wrestle a clinical, technical match because he knows that’s the way to beat Toxxic. If anyone’s going to get violent it’s our head-dropping, mark-fooling World Champion.” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” The rolling soccer chant blasts out across the arena and as ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire starts to ring out the Smarktron quickly fades down to black, jagged white letters flashing up as it does so to spell out a familiar phrase that might almost be aimed at the Suicide King’s last statement: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ The Smarktron switches to showing clips of Michael Stephens most famous matches, now culminating in the Sunny In England that beat Tom Flesher at Genesis VII, before finally changing to show Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!!* -eruption of red pyro that signals the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman! And through the flame and smoke… “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …Cruiserweight Title in his left hand, Tag Title in his right and the World Title around his waist… “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …black hair hanging down over his face and hiding his steel-grey eyes… “TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” …comes the man once known as Toxxic. The man Gabriel Drake once called friend. The man who now renounces both that name and his old friend. “AND HIS OPPONENT!” Funyon booms, trying to make himself heard, “from Nottingham, England! He weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is the SWF’s Cruiserweight Champion, one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and is the SWF’s World Heavyweight Champion… this is MIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” Stephens pauses for a moment at the top of the entrance ramp to look down at the ring where Gabriel Drake awaits him; then he begins to make his way down towards the squared circle, not quickly, but not dawdling either. “Gabriel Drake has been taking verbal potshots at the World Champion since he debuted here,” Mak Francis recaps, “but it was on Lockdown that he took it one step further and, along with Spike Jenkins, launched a physical assault on Michael Stephens and Zyon after the culmination of their Cruiserweight Title match. This apparently so enraged Stephens that he demanded this match here tonight-” “-but made sure it was non-title,” King notes. “Actually King, I think it was Joe Peters who ensured that,” Francis corrects his commentary partner. “A likely story. Toxxic’s a coward who knows he’s going to have his ass handed to him but doesn’t want to lose his precious belt.” Stephens stops at the bottom of the entrance ramp and briefly crosses his arms in the straight-edge ‘X’ symbol, then throws them wide with a title belt dangling from each hand- *BOOOM!!* -igniting another blast of red pyro from the top of each ringpost as the verse of ‘Rookie’ kicks in! ‘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 looks around and, seeing no referee, hands all three titles in his possession to the timekeeper (making sure to keep an eye on Gabriel Drake as he does so), then strips off his trenchcoat and his customised England soccer shirt. For his part Drake’s eyes don’t leave the World Champion, although as yet he makes no move to attack. “Well, both men are out here,” Mak says, “but we still need a referee…” It’s at this point that ‘Ghetto Goggles’ by the Filthy Four hits and, to the accompaniment of a smattering of boos, Joseph Peters makes his way out with microphone in hand. The SWF’s Generalissimo raises the mic with a smirk on his face… “Gentlemen,” he greets Drake and Stephens, “I’m sure you’re both wondering who I’ve assigned to this contest? Well, I decided that to keep order we’d need someone who knows you both very well… so please welcome your special referee for tonight…” The smirk grows wider for a moment. “…LIVVY LUSCIOUS!” The crowd give virtually no reaction as a petite woman in her mid-20s with straight black hair with a purple streak in it makes her way out clad in a referee’s shirt. Her expression is one of distaste, but she makes her way down to the ring. “Who the hell’s that?” King asks in total bewilderment. “I recognise the name,” Mak Francis says, “I think she wrestles with some of the smaller promotions around Atlanta, but as for why she’d be refereeing this contest I have no… idea…” Michael Stephens’ face is a picture of total astonishment. The Triple Champion stares up at the ramp with his eyes wide and his mouth open, seemingly completely gobsmacked. The camera switches to Gabriel Drake and for a moment The Beast seems to share his opponent’s amazement. “Hey, wait,” King says, “you don’t suppose that this is the girl they both-” Then something seems to darken inside Drake, and with a roar he leaps at Stephens from behind. Mike is taken completely off-guard and Drake hammers into him with what is half-spear, half punch flurry and all raging, uncontrolled aggression. Stephens desperately tries to twist around and get his arms up to defend himself from his old friend’s mad rush, but Drake seems to be possessed by the spirit of the other man to share his nickname and continues to pummel at the World Champion without even seeming to realise or care how many of the blows are hitting home. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Yes King, I think you might have hit the nail on the head,” Francis says tensely, “I think Joe Peters deliberately found this girl Livvy to referee this contest and mess with both their heads!” Livvy Luscious broke into a run when Drake jumped Stephens and she slides into the ring, then signals for the bell… *DING-DING-DING!* …only just in time, because at that moment Drake hits one last punch that knocks Michael Stephens through the ropes and to the outside! Drake wastes no time in following, all thoughts of technical wrestling forgotten as he grabs Stephens by the neck and hauls the Triple Champion up, then rams him backfirst into the ring apron! *WHAM!* ‘ONE!’ Livvy calls from inside the ring, beginning the count-out as any good referee would. *CRASH!* Drake pays no attention, simply swinging Stephens into the nearest part of the guardrail instead. The fans there all boo him, but The Beast pays them no mind as he seizes his English enemy and starts to Irish whip him towards another part of the guardrail by the far edge of the ring; however, Stephens manages to reverse the momentum and sends Drake slamming into the steel instead! *CRASH!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ‘TWO!’ Stephens takes a couple of deep breaths to try and shake off the battering he’s already taken, then simply charges at Drake as the bigger man leans woozily against the guardrail and clotheslines him clean over into the crowd! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ‘THREE!’ Drake rolls away and then stumbles to his feet, but Stephens jumps up onto the guardrail and then flies off to land a missile dropkick in The Beast’s midsection! The fans around both men roar their appreciation of the World Champion taking the fight to his enemy, but the referee’s count continues… ‘FOUR!’ Stephens grabs Drake and hauls him up, then goes to Irish whip the bigger man into some of the crowd seating (the crowd wisely scattering as he does so)… but now it’s Drake’s turn to reverse it, and it’s Michael Stephens who goes crashing into an assortment of chairs! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” ‘FIVE!’ “King, everything’s broken down here,” Mak Francis comments, “I’m not sure if these two have even remembered they’re in a match!” “Well, I struggle to remember I’m watching a wrestling match rather than an acrobatic display when Toxxic’s in the ring,” King snipes. ‘SIX!’ Gabriel Drake wades in after Stephens (as SWF Security makes sure to hold the crowd back) and hoists the World Champion up into a press slam position, then begins pressing him above his head! A cup of drink flies out of the crowd and strikes The Beast on the back, but Drake simply pushes Stephens up into the air, then steps back to let the Englishman come crashing down onto the unpadded arena floor! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ‘SEVEN!’ Drake turns around, snarling, to try and confront the crowd member who hurled the drink but he has no luck in singling them out and instead roars at the sea of faces that confronts him. Meanwhile on the ground Michael Stephens is writhing in agony after his crash landing. ‘EIGHT!’ Drake hauls Stephens back to his feet again, then hoists the Triple Champion up onto his shoulder as if for a powerslam. He points at a nearby wall, the base of a flight of steps that runs up to a higher seating area, and starts lumbering forwards as if to drive Stephens’ head into the concrete… but Stephens wriggles off his enemy’s shoulder at the last moment and shoves Drake with all his might, sending the man from Athens into a collision with the wall! ‘NINE!’ Drake stumbles backwards as Stephens staggers sideways, unbalanced by his efforts; The Beast turns and manages to land a right hand on Stephens jaw, dropping the World Champion to the ground… and Livvy Luscious makes her final count. ‘TEN!’ *DING-DING-DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “this match has been ruled a DRAW due to a double count-out!” The moment the bell rings SWF Security stops keeping the crowd back from the two wrestlers and instead converges on Stephens and Drake to keep them apart. It’s only at this point that Gabriel Drake seems to realise that a count has been taking place, and the big man shakes off the security and turns to head towards the ring! “Well, Joe Peters’ plan that his special referee would keep things under control seems to have backfired spectacularly,” Mak Francis says, “she might know both men, but this match quickly dissolved into a brawl!” Gabriel Drake has now hopped over the guardrail back into the ringside area, but instead of turning to go towards the back he instead rolls under the ropes into the ring. He starts shouting at Livvy Luscious, apparently unhappy with her decision to call for the bell. The referee argues back at her ex-boyfriend… and Drake suddenly lunges at her, grabbing her referee’s shirt and ripping it off! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Livvy has a crop-top on underneath so nothing indecent results from Drake’s attack, but as she tries to scramble away from him Drake grabs her by the throat! “OK, that’s not necessary!” Mak Francis calls, “someone needs to stop this!” The Beast seems to have lost all control now and draws back his right hand in preparation of slamming it home between Livvy’s eyes… but suddenly Michael Stephens is there and the World Champion grabs Drake’s arm, then spins him around! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Stephens Irish whips Drake into the far corner, then grabs Livvy and hustles her out between the ropes to the floor; however, as Stephens turns around to check on Drake The Beast explodes back out of the corner and spears the Triple Champion, then starts pummelling him with right hands! “Serves him right for getting involved!” King says with some satisfaction, “you said yourself that this girl Livvy is a wrestler Mak, so Toxxic had no business interfering - I’m sure she could have taken care of herself against Drake!” Just like as on Lockdown Gabriel Drake isn’t satisfied with just spearing his enemy, and drags Stephens up to his feet before taking the Triple Champion onto his back, then sitting out to deliver the Mark of the Beast! *BANG!* The final shot of the show is SWF security streaming to the ring to try and drag Gabriel Drake away from Michael Stephens as The Beast laughs… FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted October 17, 2006 “I suppose that’s your idea of a bloody joke, right?” Michael Stephens snarls at Joe Peters over the desk. Peters just regards the World Champion steadily. “I thought that someone who knew both of you would be able to control the match better,” he says simply, “I certainly didn’t expect Drake to lose all control at the sight of her-” “-then you haven’t got much bloody sense, have you?” Mike snaps. “If you know enough to know who Livvy is then you know enough to know what role she played with me and Gabe, and you could have a pretty damn good guess as to how he’d react!” “And so your match on free TV ended without a conclusive winner,” Peters smirks, “tragic.” Stephens just looks at him for a moment, finally realising exactly how it was he got outmanoeuvred on this one. Peters knew that he wouldn’t be able to maintain any control over Gabriel Drake if he outright blocked the match… so he arranged matters to ensure that the match might as well have never taken place, leaving Drake just as hungry as he ever was. In fact, with his appetite whetted by an all-too-brief in-ring encounter with Stephens, The Beast was likely to be even more eager. Stephens grimaces and glares at Peters. “I want Drake again. As soon as possible, and no bloody tricks with the referees.” “Sorry Mike,” Joe grins, “but you’re booked up right the way until Ashes 2 Ashes-” “-so make it at Ashes 2 Ashes then,” Stephens insists, “I haven’t got an opponent lined up. Gabe will do.” “Well I would,” Joe begins, “but I’d never convince the Board of Directors to run with the World Champion not defending on Pay-Per-View…” “So I’ll defend!” Mike shouts, “Gabe can have a shot at the World Title if he wants it, just give me the sodding match!” “Can’t be done,” Peters replies, shaking his head mournfully. He sees Stephens glaring at him and begins to explain. “You see, impressive start or not, Gabriel Drake is still very much a rookie. You’ve just come off a match at Genesis VII against Tom Flesher for the World Title… Tom Flesher. I can’t go from Tom Flesher as a challenger to Gabriel Drake. People would say that it was a placeholder defence for you, something to kill time until we got you a real challenger… no, good as Drake is he doesn’t have the name to main-event a Pay-Per-View.” “So who does?” Stephens queries, “who’re you gonna pull out that can match up to Flesher? Nothing’s gonna be as big as me vs. Tom, and you know it Joe. Not unless you can drag Magnifico out of somewhere, or maybe Danny.” “Well, while I don’t have any one individual who’s as big a name as Tom,” Peters says with a glint in his eye, “I think I have an acceptable alternative… you see, I think on this occasion since we can’t fully match quality, we may have to make up for it in quantity.” He looks at Stephens carefully, watching for a reaction. “Do you know Mike, the last time the SWF World Title was competed for in anything other than a one-on-one match-” “-was Ground Zero 2004 when I took it from Janus,” Stephens says immediately. “So that’s the plan? You’ll give me Drake, but only if he’s not the only challenger?” “I’ll give you Drake,” Peters confirms, “but he won’t be the only challenger. What do you say?” Michael Stephens looks at Joe Peters for a long second. He knows the desperate scramble that a three-way match can be, he knows the feeling of needing eyes in the back of your head… but now he knows that he’ll probably need eyes in the back of his head even if Drake isn’t in the match. He wouldn’t put it past The Beast to jump him from behind and try to get him to lose the World Title anyway. “OK,” he says, “you’ve got a deal. Put Drake in the match at Ashes 2 Ashes.” He folds his arms and glares at the SWF’s Generalissimo. “So who’s the last man?” “Last?” Peters asks innocently, “Mike, I think you’ve misunderstood. I said Drake wouldn’t be the only challenger, but I never said how many there would be.” He reaches down beside the desk and brings up a large roll of paper which he spreads out on the desk. It appears to be a diagram of a construction of some sort. “Come, take a look at this and tell me what you think…” * * * * * Michael Stephens leaves Joe Peters office and starts to walk off down the corridor, lost in his own thoughts. He doesn’t get far. “Toxx…?” The voice is unusually hesitant, but one he recognises. He stops and turns to find Livvy Luscious behind him. The World Champion regards her for a couple of seconds, then turns away and starts walking again. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble for one evening?” he growls. He expects her to go away - she’s always avoided him like the plague since the unhappy evening where Gabe got arrested - but to his surprise he hears her footsteps catching him up and finds her alongside him. “Look, I got a call from the SWF saying they wanted me to ref a match,” she says, “Peters didn’t tell me which match until after I’d signed the contract… indy work doesn’t pay that much Toxx, I needed the money.” “So what are you still hanging around for?” Stephens grunts, “you’ll get paid. Peters hasn’t got the brains to cheat anyone out of a payday.” He’s still outwitted you though, Mike. Twice. “I just wanted to say… thanks.” That stops Stephens in his tracks. “Say what?” “For helping me out when Gabe was coming for me,” she says, clearly uncomfortably but clearly as determined to say it. Then she looks up at him, looking him in the eyes for the first time in… how long? Four years? “I also wanted to know why? I mean, we haven’t exactly been on good terms since… you know. Even when you rang me up to tell me Gabe was out of jail and you thought he’d injured Karl I didn’t believe you.” Michael Stephens looks at her for a few seconds. It’s tempting to tell her that he doesn’t know why he did it. Maybe that he wishes he hadn’t done it. Or possibly to claim that it’s just the sort of thing he felt he had to do, being the upstanding moral person that he is these days. However, none of these are the truth. “I made a promise, nearly five years ago,” he tells her. “Gabe made me promise to keep you safe… and I never break a promise.” He turns away again, and starts walking down the corridor. “It just sometimes takes me a while to keep one…” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
