SWF Ashes 2 Ashes 2006!

[Chuck Woolery 0]

The first bout of the night begins not with Wu-Tang Clan or Muddy Waters, but with a bell as Akira Kaibatsu and Charlie Matthews begin wrestling with no entrances. They lock up collar and elbow style, Grappler getting a quick advantage as he wrenches Akira’s left arm, gaining control.

 

“This match is for #1 contendership to the international title, King” Mak informs. “this is a big match for both guys.”

 

“I’d say it’s bigger for Akira. He hasn’t had a solid win streak since he’s come back from injury,”

 

Akira fights his way out of the arm wrench by flipping forwards, and landing on his back. He then swipes Grapplers legs, bringing him to the mat. Akira then grabs Matthews by the legs and flips forward, getting a quick pinfall in.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

 

“wait…what the hell?!” King shouts. “Did Akira just beat Charlie Grappler in 30 seconds?!” King’s awe is only matched by Grapplers who sits in the center of the ring rubbing his hair, as Akira quickly scurries out of the ring, the new #1 contender to the international title.

[Chuck Woolery 0]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
SWF
ASHES TO ASHES

Live, Sunday, November 5th, from the Pyongyang Arena in North Korea!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)



-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

THE MAIN EVENT - ELIMINATION CHAMBER
Michael Stephens vs. "The Beast" Gabriel Drake vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Zyon vs. Bruce Blank
-> If there's one quality Joseph Peters really should look into acquiring, I think I'd pick subtlety. As it stands, if the man doesn't like you, he will make it very well known.

There is no better example than tonight's main event - The Elimination Chamber. Triple Champion Michael Stephens has had his hands full recently with The Beast, Gabriel Drake, a man tied to Stephen's own past. One might think, with the history these two have, that a Pay Per View Main Event between the two would be an epic match... but that would be too easy. Let's throw in a few more people who have history with Mike - Bruce Blank, whose World Title ambitions have been thwarted before... Spike Jenkins, whose history with Stephens is well-known... Landon Maddix, Mike's former nemesis and current partner... and Zyon, perpetually on the edge of breaking into the main event.

A situation that would normally be every man for himself seems more likely to become a 5 on 1 against our World Champion. Is there any hope for Michael Stephens to walk out of this one ALIVE, let alone still holding his singles belts? Or will we be crowning a new Champion (or two) tonight?

Rules: The setup looks a little something like this:



Ignore those losers there. We're way better.

Two men begin the match, while the other four are stuck inside those little booths in the various corners of the cage (booths made of BULLET PROOF GLASS, BAH GAWD). Every five minutes (I think), one of the booths opens, and that man enters the match. Eliminations are scored by pinfall or submission - last man standing wins.

And as an added bonus, should a Cruiserweight eliminate Michael Stephens, he will win the Cruiser title!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP TAG TEAM MATCH
Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild vs. Ultimo Phantasmo and Devin Benson
-> Iiiinteresting... Wild and Dangerous might want to stop letting cameras into their lockerroom during shows, because that little exchange that opened Smarkdown has Joseph Peters thinking. Which is never a good thing. Wild and Dangerous seem to have some trust issues - what better way to exploit this powder-keg of a situation than by forcing Johnny to defend his title against his tag team partner... while tagging with him?
Rules: Standard tag team match, BUT~! Whoever scores the pinfall or submission that ends the match will become (or retain) the SWF International Championship!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

SINGLES MATCH OF INFINITE AWESOMEITUDE
"The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke
-> Jay Hawke, already considered by many to be a World Class talent, will soon be taking on two other World Class talents, Two Skinny White Guys, for the Tag Team Championships! Hawke will need to be prepared against those two, so tonight we give him the best tune-up match EVER. Two of the top wrestlers in the SWF face off!
Rules: Standard singles match.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP - ASHES TO ASHES MATCH
Jimmy the Doom vs. Insane Luchador vs. Nemesis vs. Jacob Helmsley
-> I don't know if Joseph Peters actively despises Jimmy the Doom, but surely he is wierded out by him. I mean, we all are. Besides, how do you market T-shirts with Doomtopian slogans? It just doesn't work, and that means it's time to get the belt away from him.

Unfortunately, Doomtopians have proven to be resourceful and resilient fighters - so tonight, we take not one but THREE Hardcore Contenders, and hurl them all at the Hardcore Champion! The returning Insane Luchadore! The only man to creep us out more than Jimmy, Nemesis! And no stranger to the hardcore scene, Jacob Helmsley!
Rules: Hanging above the ring, ladder match style, will be four straw dummies modeled after each of our competitors. The object of this match is to scale a ladder, grab your opponents' dummies, and toss them into any one of the many decorative funeral pyres that make up the A2A set. Once your dummy has been incinerated, you are eliminated (rhyme intended). Whoever's effigy is left in-tact is the winner, and the new (or still) Hardcore Champion! Of course, no disqualifications, anything goes!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

OPENING BOUT - SWF INTERNATIONAL TITLE CONTENDERSHIP MATCH
"The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu vs. Charlie "Grappler" Matthews
-> During the Bruce Blank International Title Reign, both Akira and Matthews took their shots at the champ, and both failed to bring him down. But now the International Championship has a new holder, and these two are chomping at the bit for another shot - tonight, we'll see which one gets it!
Rules: Standard singles match.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[Chuck Woolery 0]

As a video package for the Elimination Chamber match fades away, the ring crew has finally managed to hoist the gigantic Nemesis straw dummy above the squared circle. With everything in place for the next match, the crew scatters, taking care not to fall into one of the blazing pyres.

 

"Joseph Peters is really flexing his muscle tonight, King. Not only has he stacked the deck against World, Cruiser, and Tag champion Michael Stephens in the Elimination Chamber, but long-time Hardcore champion, Jimmy the Doom, is taking on three of the most violent men in the history of the SWF for his title." Mak says.

 

"That just shows how great a guy Peters really is. I mean, we could see two people I really dislike get dethroned in one night! Of course, there is the off chance Landon Maddix will win a title, but that's slimmer than you doing the Charleston." King says.

 

"Tasteless commentary aside, it's time for the Ashes to Ashes match, and quite frrankly, that's a pretty lame name when you consider that this Pay-Per-View is called Ashes to Ashes. However, the stipulation should be make for a great contest!" Mak shouts.

 

Practically on cue with Mak's words, "Man in the Box" by Alice in Chains strikes up, prompting a chorus of jeers from the crowd. Red and black pyro erupts from the stage, prompting the entrance of the Insane Luchador, 'Excalibur' held high. The Ill One walks down the ramp, offering his hand out, but since he's not North Korean, the Luchador is snubbed.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following is an Ashes to Ashes match for the Hardcore championship! This match will take place under elimination rules, and the winner is the man whose straw dummy is not set on fire! Introducing first, from Easton, Pennsylvania, he weighs two hundred, twenty-one pounds, Your Psychotic Hero, INNNSSSAAAAANE LUUUUCHAAAAADORRRRR!" Funyon roars.

 

Insane Luchador darts around a pyre, slides 'Excalibur' inside the ring, then follows suit. The Pennsylvanian pops to his feet, gathers up his light tube sword and glances up at the hanging dummies. Just then, Disturbed's "Hell" blares over the speakers, and out walks Jacob Helmsley.

 

"Introducing next, from Calgary...Alberta, Canada, he weighs two hundred, twenty-seven pounds, JJAAAAACOB HEEEELLLLMSSSSLEEEEEYY!" Funyon exclaims.

 

Helmsley glares at Luchador as Jake walks to the ring. Jacob slips off his coat, drapes it on the turnbuckle, and climbs into the ring. Helmsley brandishes his lead pipe, reminding the Ill One that he's armed as well.

 

"This should really be a violent contest, King. Not only are all four men incredibly tough, but all have shown signs of being at least a little unstable, if not full-blown psychosis at times. And let's not forget that Nemesis and Insane Luchador have already rumbled with Jimmy the Doom, so it should be interesting to see how gameplans are changed for this match," Mak says.

 

"I typically don't acknowledge things like this, but Nemesis is at a distinct disadvantage here because doesn't really climb the ropes, so ascending a ladder is a bit of a stretch for the big guy. However, he might be able to stay on the ground and prevent everyone else from burning his dummy in a more defensive role," King says.

 

"Hell" soon fades away, and Professor William Attenborough walks out, the Tome of the Gods held high.

 

"What hubris! What pure, unchecked arrogance! You, Insane Luchador, you presume to be a hero of the people? Your violently psychotic actions are reprehensible! Jacob Helmsley, you dare consider yourself good enough to compete in this match? And of course, Jimmy the Doom. You no doubt feel superior to the other competitors in this match, having already defeated two of the three men. However, this hubris will not go unpunished! Prepare to feel the wrath of the gods!" Attenborough shouts.

 

The lights go out and a deep, rumbling explosion rocks the Pyongyang Arena. Green pyrotechnics burst around the stage, and the giant Nemesis walks out, smoke pouring from his mouth.

 

"Next, from Mount Olympus, he weighs four hundred, ten pounds, the Colossus, NNNEEEEMMMEESSSSSIIIISSSSS!" Funyon screams.

 

Nemesis stomps down to the ring and climbs over the top rope. He ignores both Jacob and Luchador, choosing to focus on the entrance.

 

"We haven't seen Nemesis since that Doomopolis Street Fight, and I've got to wonder if he's going to experience any ring rust," Francis says.

 

"Well, Insane Luchador has been missing for a bit longer," King points out.

 

"True, but the Ill One goes on sabbatical quite often, so he might be more used to frequent returns," Mak says.

 

"That's evidenced by his stellar winning percentage and multiple title reigns, right?"

 

The green smoke dissipates and the lights go out. Heavy footfalls sound throughout the arena, accompanied by a single word being chanted continuously.

 

"Doom!

 

Doom!

 

Doom!

 

Doom!"

 

The lights snap back on to reveal druids surrounding the ring and pyres. Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" strikes up, and the Doomtopian couple walk onto the stage.

 

"And finally, the champion! Being accopmanied by Lois the Unethical, from Doomopolis, Doomtopia, he weighs two hundred, thirty pounds, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJIIIIMMMMEEEE THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon yells.

 

Jimmy walks down the ramp, trying to pump up the crowd, but gets booed for being a foreigner. Doom gives up and instead makes his way to the ring. The Straight-Breader takes off his deerstalker hat and slides into the squared circle. Lois passes the Hardcore belt up to referee Matt Kivell and then sits next to Funyon. Kivell holds the belt in the air, passes it off to the timekeeper, and then signals for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Jimmy is the first to move, charging straight for Nemesis, and nailing him with a dropkick to the knees. Doom rolls away as the Colossus swipes downward, opening himself up for a pipe shot from Helmsley. Jake nails the giant a second time before darting out of his reach. Jimmy kicks out, hitting Nemesis in the left ankle and causing him to stumble. Helmsley dashes in again, blasting the Hand of the Gods in the face. Jake continues to batter Nemesis as Jimmy rolls out of the ring. Doom snatches up the ladder and slides it inside, where it is grabbed by Insane Luchador. The Psychotic Hero rams it into Nemesis' torso, and with Jacob's help, knocks the big man down with a modified clothesline. Helmsley and Luchador set the ladder up and the Ill One begins climbing.

 

"It looks like Nemesis is being targeted early, and it makes sense to get rid of the biggest, strongest guy as soon as possible. It's true that he can't really climb the ladder, but he can still cause some havoc," Mak says.

 

Nemesis slowly gets back up and floors Helmsley with a big right hand. Jimmy grabs hold of a burning branch for a pyre and gets back in the ring. Luchador takes hold of the large Nemesis dummy, but is unable to unhook it. Nemesis slams into the ladder, knocking it away from Luchador, who falls to the mat, ripping the dummy down with him. Jimmy sneaks up behind the Hand of the Gods and cracks him in the back with his bough. Doom slams the branch into Nemesis' head, and yanks him to the canvas with a bulldog. Helmsley clambers up, grabs the Nemesis dummy and shoves it outside the ring. Jacob follows while Nemesis rises to his feet, Doom keeping hold of the side headlock. Nemesis falls backwards, driving Jimmy into the ladder as Helmsley pushes the straw dummy into the fire, igniting it.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Nemesis has been eliminated!" Funyon shouts.

 

A swarm of road agents rush to the ring to escort Nemesis to the back as Professor Attenborough violently protests.

 

"And Nemesis is gone! It's down to the much quicker men, so the action should really pick up now," Mak says.

 

"Man, he didn't even get to crush anyone's skull," King laments.

 

Insane Luchador slowly gets to his feet and pulls the ladder from underneath Doom. The Ill One races towards Helmsley and shoves the ladder between the ropes, knocking Jake into the pyre. Luchador sets the ladder up under the dummies and scrambles up. The Psychotic Hero fumbles with the hooks, but finally manages to take down Jake's dummy. Luchador tosses the dummy towards the pyre, but the real Helmsley catches it.

 

"Nice save by Helmsley. Maybe Insane Luchador and Jacob can team up to eliminate Doom," Mak says.

 

"That'd be pretty sweet. I guess I wouldn't mind Luchador as champ, though of the three remaining, Helmsley is the most favorable option," King says.

 

Insane Luchador looks down at Helmsley, and then climbs to the top of the ladder. He stands on the portion clearly marked as not being a step, turns around, and leaps off, smashing into Jake with a gigantic moonsault. Both men slam into the pyre, sending sparks into the air, one of which falls on Jake's dummy, setting it ablaze.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Jacob Helmsley has been eliminated," Funyon says.

 

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" King shouts.

 

Road agents help Jacob to the back as Insane Luchador tries to extract himself from the pyre. Meanwhile, Jimmy the Doom has climbed to his feet and is scampering up the ladder. Insane Luchador rushes into the ring and races up the ladder. Doom uses his long limbs to grab hold of Luchador's dummy, but the Ill One's speed allows him to get to Doom's effigy as well. Both men rip the other's dummy down, and engage in a one-handed striking battle on the top of the ladder. Doom lashes out with a Hand of Doom, then a shotei, knocking Insane Luchador off balance, and ultimately off the ladder. Doom drops the dummy below and slides to the mat. The Psychotic Hero isn't down for long, though, and charges into Jimmy. Both men hit the canvas with Luchador on top and raining down punches. The Straight-Bread Sensation defends momentarily, then notices 'Excalibur' just within his reach. Doom stretches, grabs the handle, and swings the light tubes into Luchador's face, shattering the glass. Luchador rolls away, allowing Doom to grab the Ill One's dummy and crawl outside the ring. Blood pouring from his face, Luchador storms outside the ring and slams into Doom feet from the pyre, knocking the dummy to safety. Luchador is on top once more and pounding Jimmy's face. Doom covers up, grabs hold of the right side of his giant mustache, and rips it from his upper lip. The Straight-Breader extends it into the flames and then tosses it towards Luchador's effigy. The Psychotic Hero leaps for his dummy, but is seconds too late as his straw doppleganger's head catches fire.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Insane Luchador has been eliminated! The winner of the match, and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIMMMEEE THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon roars.

 

"Yakety Sax" blares as Doom gets his belt back, and with Lois, walks up the ramp, shoving a few druids into the fire to console himself over the loss of his mustache.

 

"What a match! Like many of Doom's hardcore bouts, it was quick, but violent. Jimmy sacrificed his mustache to keep his title, and that's got to be dedication to being a champion," Mak says.

 

"To me, it says Doom will look like an even bigger jackass without half his lip hair, provided he doesn't go completely clean shaven," King replies.

 

The ring crew rushes down to clean up the mess as Ashes to Ashes fades to a video package for the International Title tag match.

[Chuck Woolery 0]

Francis: "And as we reach the second half of this tremendous Ashes to Ashes card, we get ready for what has to the potential to be one of the greatest pure wrestling spectacles we have ever seen. Tom Flesher is getting set to take on Jay Hawke in what promises to be a purist's dream match, and quite possibly an early candidate for match of the year, King."

 

King: "Mak, this is the one match on this show that I simply cannot pick a winner for. I mean, you have two men here with a ton of experience. Two men that know seemingly every hold and counter hold in the business. And, quite frankly, two men that know every dirty trick in the book. This is going to be great."

 

Francis: "So go over the gameplan. What does each man need to do to win?"

 

King: "I think the strategy is the same for everybody. Whoever can control the pace of the match and force their opponent to make a mistake is likely going to be the one who wins the match. The problem is this. These two men are not known for making mistakes. Flesher, a Hall of Famer. Hawke, in my mind is one World Title reign away from being a future Hall of Famer. I can feel it, Mak. We've got a bonafide classic on our hands here."

 

Francis: "Fans, whether you like these two men or not, I think we all have to agree with King. This is a match that could be one for the ages, and we can't kick it off until Funyon gives us the particulars. So Funyon, take it away."

 

Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit. Introducing first, the manager ... Mr. James Matheson."

 

James Matheson yanks the microphone out of Funyon's hands.

 

Matheson: "Ladies and gentlemen, here he is. The man with more moves than a Turkish prostitute on 2-for-1 night ... from Buffalo, New York and weighing in tonight at 231 pounds ... he is simply better than each and every one of you ... 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher!"

 

The usual blue pyro goes off at the entryway, just as the beginning of Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" begins to blast over the public address system. Flesher calmly makes his way to the ring, ignoring the chants from the capacity crowd:

 

 

"FLESH-ER SUCKS!

FLESH-ER SUCKS!

FLESH-ER SUCKS!"

 

Tom Flesher casually finishes the long walk down the aisle before climbing up the ring steps. He wipes his feet on the ring apron, then enters the ring, smirking at the crowd before taking off his usual PPV attire, the gold sweatsuit.

 

Francis: "Certainly a look of confidence in the face of Tom Flesher here tonight, King."

 

King: "And when you've got the track record that Flesher has, Mak, you can be that confident. But his opponent is not a man to be taken lightly."

 

The sound of children with British accents is heard, singing...

 

"We don't need no education..."

 

BOOM BOOM BOOM...

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

 

And with that purple and gold pyro goes off in the aisle way as Jay Hawke, decked out in his splendiferous purple and gold robe, begins to walk down the aisle.

 

Funyon: "And his opponent ... hailing from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio ... weighing in tonight at 215 pounds ... 'The Dean of Professional Wrestling' ... JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!"

 

Jay Hawke makes his way to the ring, basking in a familiar chant from the crowd:

 

 

"JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!"

 

Francis: "Even in North Korea, Jay Hawke is not exactly a well-liked man, King."

 

King: "I'm sure that these people will be forced to cheer for one of these men before the match is over."

 

Francis: "Because of the tremendous talent involved?"

 

King: "No, because Kim Jong-Il will have them executed if they don't."

 

Francis: "Will you stop?"

 

Jay Hawke casually finishes the long walk down the aisle before climbing up the ring steps. He wipes his feet on the ring apron, then enters the ring, smirking at the crowd before taking off his robe.

 

Francis: "Two very confident, almost arrogant, competitors getting ready to face off here, and you have to believe the winner will be in line for a shot at the World Title no matter who wins the Elimination Chamber match later on tonight."

 

King: "They're both in line for that shot anyway, Mak. Hell, they're always in line for a shot at any title they want to go after, and Hawke's got a guaranteed World Tag Team Title shot coming up in the near future."

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

Scott Ryder calls for the bell, bringing out a respectful round of applause from the capacity near-record crowd. The two combatants circle the ring, each man reluctant to make a move given the capabilities of their opponent.

 

Francis: "A feeling out process already, much like most experts expected."

 

King: "I expect some terrific scientific wrestling ... for about ten minutes. Mostly because they'll be feeling each other out. After that, all hell's gonna break loose."

 

Francis: “Well, Tom Flesher knows how good Jay Hawke is, and Jay Hawke knows how good Tom Flesher is. The pride these two men have to show how much better they are than the other one is intense. Neither one of them is going to want to make a mistake tonight.”

 

After a few more seconds, the combatants lock up into a collar-and-elbow tieup. Each man moves an arm upward, trying to gain control into a front headlock, but neither man can gain an advantage, so both men release the lockup. After a few seconds, they lock up again. Again, each man makes a move to lock in a headlock, but neither man can get a hold of their opponent before they break it up after a second stalemate.

 

Francis: "Nothing going just yet, as it appears these two men have each other well-scouted."

 

King: "Oh, they've certainly done their homework, Mak. You don't get to where these two men have gotten without being very cagey and very crafty."

 

They lock up yet again. After some jockeying for position, Tom Flesher moves in for the headlock, but Hawke quickly slips behind the Superior One, grabbing the left arm and twisting it behind him into a hammerlock. Flesher shakes his head, not believing he got caught, but he wastes no time bending forward, grabbing a leg, and taking the Dean of Professional Wrestling off his feet with a single-leg. Jay Hawke quickly trips Flesher with his free leg before he can get away, then quickly attempts to apply the STF, but Flesher isn't sufficiently in trouble yet and quickly rolls away and gets to his feet. The fans give a polite applause as the two men stare each other down.

 

Francis: "And there you see how good these two men are."

 

King: "Counter after counter, neither man gaining an advantage, but I wonder how long it will go like this before one of them gets frustrated with not getting any sort of advantage."

 

They lock up. Jay Hawke reaches up for a front headlock, but Flesher slips behind and locks in a waistlock. Hawke quickly slips behind into a waistlock of his own, but before he can lock his arms, Flesher once again slips behind him into a waistlock. Flesher lifts the former International Champion off the mat, but Hawke blocks it and rolls forward, putting Flesher's shoulders onto the canvas...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

T -- Tom Flesher quickly rolls out of the pin attempt and grabs an ankle, then tries to fall into a leg submission, but Hawke rolls onto his stomach to prevent Flesher from getting a grip before sweeping the leg to bring him down. Hawke quickly gets to his feet, and as Flesher gets to the seat of his pants, he swings his left foot. He gets nothing but air on the roundhouse as Flesher avoids the kick and returns to his feet. Both men get into their fighting stance, and the crowd gives another polite -- and slightly louder -- applause.

 

Francis: "Wow. You're seeing a clinic thus far, King."

 

King: "I've seen more wrestling in the opening five minutes of this match than I've seen on Monday nights in the last five years."

 

Another lockup. Tom Flesher finally locks in the front headlock that has eluded him in the opening minutes of the match. Flesher tries to turn it into a choke, but Jay Hawke reaches up and grabs the wrists, trying to separate Flesher's arms and prevent it. Sensing Hawke has the move scouted, Flesher changes strategies, driving a series of knees into the ribs. Flesher then sets up Hawke for a suplex and lifts him up, but Hawke avoids it, landing on his feet behind Flesher. Hawke hooks Flesher's waist and runs forward, sending both men into the ropes. Flesher hooks the top rope, preventing a takeover, but Hawke rolls through it and stands. Flesher turns around, only to get met in the face with a dropkick that sends him sprawling through the ropes to the outside.

 

Francis: "Another terrific sequence, and Jay Hawke lands the first big move, a dropkick that sends Tom Flesher to the outside."

 

King: "But Hawke is remaining in the ring, and that's going to give Flesher a chance to regroup and think about how to turn the tide of this match."

 

Flesher takes advantage of Scott Ryder's ten count, deliberately waiting until the count of nine to reenter the ring. As he does so, he drops to all fours, daring Jay Hawke to try and take him on amateur style. "This might be a mistake if Hawke tries it," says King, but Hawke does indeed try it, only for Flesher to sit out, hook an arm, and reach his feet, applying a hammerlock in seemingly one motion. Flesher releases the hold and smirks at his opponent.

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

 

Francis: "Flesher getting a little cocky. He got the advantage one time because Hawke took the bait."

 

This time Flesher tells Hawke to get on all fours and try his luck. He does, and Flesher tries to kick him in the ribs, but Hawke is quick to roll over and get to his feet, shaking a finger at Flesher and saying "Not a chance in hell." Tom Flesher kicks the bottom rope in frustration, as that trick works nearly every time.

 

King: "And he wasn't able to outsmart Jay Hawke there."

 

Francis: "You hinted at it earlier. These two both know every trick in the book. It's going to be hard for somebody to force the other to make a mistake."

 

With both men back on their feet, they lock up one more time. Tom Flesher locks in a side headlock and grinds into Jay Hawke’s head, hoping to neutralize him. Hawke uses his right foot to push down at the back of Flesher’s left knee, slips out of the hold, then locks Flesher into a wristlock while driving an elbow into the insertion of the shoulder. Hawke then turns it into a standard arm wringer, and Flesher’s face contorts in agony as he drops to one knee. Quickly to his feet again, Flesher spins around, grabs Hawke’s wrist, and reverse the arm wringer. Hawke rolls forward, but can’t reverse the grip. Hawke moves to Flesher’s side and tries to grapevine his right leg behind Flesher’s and take him over, but Flesher blocks it and snap mares the Dean of Wrestling over before hooking in a more conventional armbar. Flesher turns it back into a wristlock, bending the wrist back over his knee and contorting it into positions that were once thought unheard of by science. Hawke rolls to his feet, and the Superior One tries to twist his arm again, but Jay Hawke grabs a handful of nose to stop Flesher in his tracks before locking in a side headlock and kneeling for added leverage.

 

King: “This is the sequence that never ends.”

 

Tom Flesher gets to his feet, and Jay Hawke levels him with a couple of palm strikes to the forehead in an attempt to keep his opponent trapped in the hold. Flesher grabs his arm to prevent a third such strike, then turns his body until he’s got his opponent’s wrists locked in an overhead wristlock. A smattering of applause breaks out, and Hawke arm drags Flesher down to the mat to break the hold. Both men get to their feet but fail to move in, and the end of the sequence has the capacity crowd giving the two men an appreciative applause.

 

Francis: “You know some people are going to think this is a boring contest so far, but I love it. What action.”

 

King: “Hold-for-hold, move-for-move, you’re probably never going to find two men more evenly matched, Mak. What a fantastic wrestling clinic these two men are putting on here.”

 

The two men cautiously move in on each other, this time locking fingers with a knuckle lock. Flesher gets in one kick to the midsection, then twists Jay Hawke’s arm like the vanilla/chocolate swirl ice cream in a schoolboy’s waffle cone. Flesher adds in a leg trip takedown, maintaining a wristlock. Hawke’s shoulders fall to the mat for a split-second, but he lifts the right shoulder before Scott Ryder can get into position to start a count. Flesher rolls forward, slamming Hawke’s bent wrist onto the mat as he does so, and Hawke keeps his left arm at his side as he slides to the corner and returns to his feet with the crowd voicing their reluctant approval.

 

Francis: “I’m sort of surprised at the strategy. I would have thought Flesher would work more on the back and neck, but he seems to be focusing on the left arm of his opponent.”

 

King: “Oh, he’ll work the neck and back I’m sure, but why not take away one of Hawke’s weapons while he’s at it? If Hawke’s arm is useless, he’ll never be able to lock in the Wing Span.”

 

Both men move in cautiously again, and after a few seconds, it’s Jay Hawke who moves in, slipping behind Tom Flesher and locking him in a tight waistlock. Flesher rolls forward, taking Hawke with him and getting out of the hold. Both men quickly reach their feet, and Flesher goes right back into the front headlock. He drives a couple of knees into the chest of the Dean of Wrestling, but Hawke grabs the wrist and quickly twists it forward with so much force that Flesher flips forward and lands on the mat. Jay Hawke quickly drops a leg down on the arm, then turns into what is best described as a spinning wristlock. Tom Flesher begins crawling to the ropes to escape, but Hawke floats over, locking Flesher into a side headlock while scissoring his right arm to slow down his movement. The Superior One’s shoulders ease onto the mat:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

Flesher quickly lifts the shoulder, but the Dean of Professional Wrestling grabs that wrist and tries to float over into a pinning position. Flesher gets the other shoulder up, preventing the cover, and Hawke decides to try a new approach. With the headlock still attached after all that, he stands up, bringing Tom Flesher with him. Flesher pushes off, sending Hawke forward into a corner, but Hawke comes back and knocks Flesher down with a shoulder tackle.

 

Francis: “Hard shoulder block there by Jay Hawke, and that’s about the one advantage he’s had this match so far.”

 

King: “And even that was just one move. Neither man can keep the other man grounded for any length of time at all.”

 

Flesher returns to his feet, and Jay Hawke runs into the ropes this time. He goes for a lariat, but Flesher ducks underneath, slips behind Hawke, and locks in an abdominal stretch, driving the elbow into the ribs for good measure.

 

Francis: “And now the pace picks up briefly, but Flesher looks to have Hawke tied up here.”

 

King: “But he hasn’t completely hooked his leg behind Hawke’s leg, so while Jay is in some pain, Flesher is not in control like he would otherwise be at this point.”

 

Scott Ryder moves in, checking to see if Jay Hawke is ready to submit to the hold, but Hawke shakes his head no. He reaches down and grabs Flesher’s foot, pulling it away to alleviate the pressure. He then hiptosses Flesher to the mat to release the hold. Flesher immediately gets to his feet. Hawke moves in for a clothesline, which Flesher again ducks. Flesher hooks Hawke’s head, presumably for an inverted DDT, but Hawke snap mares him to the mat, then unleashes a quick roundhouse kick to the back of the head. The Superior One slumps down to the mat as Jay Hawke goes for the pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “And that’s the first time either man has come close to getting the pin in the ten minutes or so they’ve been wrestling here.”

 

King: “It’s going to take more than one kick to the head to beat these two men, you can bank on that!”

 

Jay Hawke pulls Tom Flesher to his feet, then lifts him up onto the shoulders into a fireman’s carry. He goes to slam him forward, but Flesher hooks his head and legs on the way, turning it into a beautiful inside cradle:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “And now it’s Flesher with a near fall…”

 

Both men get to their feet, but Flesher bear hugs Hawke, then lifts him into the air and over his head with a tremendous looking suplex.

 

Francis: “…and follows it up with a Railgun Suplex! There’s another cover!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

King: “But only two! Not nearly enough damage done at this point of the evening!”

 

As Hawke tries to make his way to his feet, Tom Flesher locks him into a front headlock. He drives a series of knees into the ribs, then tries to slip the move into a choke. Hawke maneuvers his body, taking Flesher over with an arm drag takedown. A couple more quick arm drags has Flesher off-balance, but Flesher drives a knee into the ribs before locking in a side headlock.

 

Francis: “Tom Flesher trying to wear Jay Hawke down with these headlocks, but Hawke has yet to stay in them for any length of time whatsoever.”

 

And he won’t stay in it long this time either, as Hawke pushes Flesher forward and into the ropes. Hawke leapfrogs over Flesher as he comes towards him. Flesher grabs the ropes as he hits the other side, and Hawke leaps for the leapfrog at that precise moment, only to see Tom Flesher step through the ropes to the outside of the ring.

 

King: “Brilliant move!”

 

Francis: “I agree.”

 

King: “He simply stepped to the outside and left Jay Hawke dumbfounded inside the ring!”

 

Tom Flesher takes a couple of steps toward the crowd, pointing at his head to tell them it was a brilliant move, but as he turns around, Jay Hawke springboards off of the top rope and dives at Flesher, hitting him with a lariat and driving both of them into the guardrail.

 

Francis: “What a move! An uncharacteristic risk from Jay Hawke that not only leaves Flesher dumbfounded, but leaves him down in a heap on the concrete floor!”

 

Jay Hawke grabs a hold of Tom Flesher and rolls him into the ring. He rolls back into the ring himself and pursues Flesher, only for Flesher to catch him coming in with a thumb to the eye.

 

Francis: “And that could be the move that turns the tide of this one permanently into Tom Flesher’s favor!”

 

King: “I don’t care who you are, but the thumb in the eye will stop anybody at anytime!”

 

With Hawke temporarily vision-impaired, Tom Flesher unleashes a series of palm strikes, mostly catching Hawke in the side of the face but getting one solid shot in to the eyebrow. With that, he drives a knee into the midsection, then hooks Hawke’s head and left leg for a fisherman suplex. He lifts Hawke up, but Hawke rolls him forward into an inside cradle:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: "Near fall for Jay Hawke, and you're still getting countermove after countermove between these two men."

 

Both men quickly get to their feet, and after they jockey for position for a little bit, Jay Hawke is able to lock in a front headlock on Tom Flesher. As Hawke clamps down on it, Flesher grabs both legs and takes Hawke down with a blast double-leg takedown, then moves up and tries to grab Hawke into a front headlock. Hawke immediately grabs a hold of Flesher's wrist and begins to pull on it, and Flesher quickly rolls away from it, landing in the ropes.

 

Francis: "And now both men tumble into the ropes, and I don't know if either man is soon going to be able to pin the other one."

 

King: "How much time is left in this one?"

 

Francis: "I'd guess about fifteen minutes or so, King, perhaps twenty, but I honestly have no idea."

 

King: "Well, if any two men are capable of going to a thirty minute draw, it's definitely these two guys."

 

Both men make it back to their feet one more time. They lock up, with Jay Hawke hooking in a side headlock and taking Tom Flesher down to the mat with it. Flesher's shoulders fall to the mat:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Tom Flesher lifts the right shoulder and locks his arms around Jay Hawke's waist.

 

King: "Nothing doing there, Flesher is too much of a veteran for that."

 

Flesher rolls Jay Hawke over onto his back, his shoulders falling to the mat:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Jay Hawke rolls over, maintaining the headlock while avoiding being pinned.

 

Francis: "Two count, and you're not going to pin Jay Hawke like that. All he has to do in that instance is let go of the hold and he prevents the pin there."

 

With his arms still locked around the Dean's waist, the Superior One makes his way to his feet. He slips out of the headlock, ending up directly behind Hawke while still locking in the waistlock. He then pops his hips and falls backwards, taking Hawke over with a beautiful bridging German suplex:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: "And another near fall. Flesher refusing to release the waistlock though, and both men make it to their feet."

 

Flesher goes for another suplex, but Hawke puts his foot behind Flesher's leg to block it. Hawke then switches positions, locking in a waistlock from behind, then taking Flesher over with his own German suplex:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: "And there's a near fall for Jay Hawke."

 

King: "And I don't like the way Flesher landed on his head. He might have gotten himself knocked loopy there!"

 

Flesher slowly tries to get to his feet, but Hawke grabs his left arm and pushes all of his weight down on it driving Flesher to the canvas. He then grabs the wrist and pulls back while putting all of his weight on the shoulders.

 

Francis: "And Jay Hawke goes into the Fujiwara armbar here, finally trying to set Flesher up for the Wing Span!"

 

King: "I doubt he'll get a submission out of this, but he might be able to do some serious damage to the arm and shoulder!"

 

Tom Flesher uses his free arm to push himself off of the mat and alleviate the bulk of the pressure, then he rolls forward, breaking Hawke's grip of the arm. Both men reach their feet, and Hawke moves in for a clothesline. The Superior One ducks, and as the Dean of Wrestling turns around, Flesher levels Hawke in the side of the head with a Yakuza kick that nearly sends Hawke's head flying off his shoulders.

 

 

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Francis: "What a kick to the head by Tom Flesher!"

 

King: "And so ends the scientific portion of the evening, if I'm not mistaken!"

 

As Hawke clutches his head in obvious pain, Flesher grabs him and drags him to the corner, placing Hawke's head along the bottom turnbuckle. Flesher then runs into the ropes, using them for momentum as he runs in and scrapes his boot across Jay Hawke's eyes.

 

Francis: "Shades of Shinjiro Otani with that running bootscrape, and you know that now he has the advantage, he's going to be relentless."

 

Flesher runs into the ropes again, this time scraping the side of the head with a hard kick that slumps Hawke partially out of the ring between the bottom and middle ropes. Flesher pulls Hawke into the ring and covers:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T -- shoulder up. Not to be denied the advantage, Tom Flesher leaps up, driving the bottom of both feet into Hawke's abdomen, then goes for another cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: "Double stomp by Tom Flesher, and he's got Hawke right where he wants him."

 

Tom Flesher locks Jay Hawke into a bodyscissors.

 

Francis: "And right into the bodyscissors now."

 

King: "And now you see smart wrestling by Tom Flesher. He's going to do whatever is necessary to drive the oxygen out of Hawke's lungs. It's going to be that much harder for Jay Hawke to breathe, and that's going to make it that much harder for him to keep the energy necessary to pull off the victory."

 

Although struggling for every breath, Jay Hawke is aware enough of his surroundings to grab a hold of Flesher's legs and start to pull himself to his feet. He maneuvers his body in such a manner that Flesher's shoulders are almost on the mat, then he throws forearms downward, striking Flesher in the face several times and forcing him to lose his grip on the scissors. Sensing the opportunity, Hawke grabs Flesher's legs, turns over, and leans back, locking Flesher into a Boston crab.

 

Francis: "Tremendous counter by Jay Hawke there, and now he's the one who has this submission hold perfectly applied!"

 

King: "But he hasn't done a whole lot of damage to Flesher's back at this point, so can he really beat him with this?"

 

The Superior One begins to push himself off the mat, but before he can break the hold, Hawke releases the hold and quickly twists his body, locking Tom Flesher into an STF in the center of the ring.

 

Francis: "And into the STF!"

 

King: "Jay Hawke is trying to twist Tom Flesher into a pretzel in the center of the ring, and if he can grab a hold of one more limb here, I'm going to be asking for some spicy mustard!"

 

Tom Flesher reaches for the ropes, but he's a good three or four feet away from them. Slowly, Tom Flesher begins to crawl toward the side of the ring, inching his way to the ropes. He's six inches away, and Jay Hawke lets go of the hold, leaps up, and drops an elbow across the back of the head. Hawke moves in, rolling Flesher onto his back and dropping down for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

King: "Once again, brilliant by Hawke! He knew he was probably going to have to break the hold anyway, so he let go himself and hit a move!"

 

Jay Hawke locks in a front headlock, pulling Flesher to his feet while squeezing the hold. Tom Flesher drives in a couple of kicks to the knee to loosen the grip, then shoots behind him, locking in a waistlock. Flesher then goes to move it into a full nelson, but Hawke slips out of it and floats behind, locking in a full nelson of his own. With the move locked in tight, Jay Hawke pops his hips, sending Flesher backwards over the top, the shoulders hitting the mat:

 

Francis: "Dragon suplex..."

 

ONE!

 

Francis: "With a beautiful bridge!"

 

TWO!

 

King: "He might have him!"

 

THREE! Shoulder up.

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

King: "He got him!"

 

Scott Ryder holds up Jay Hawke's hand in victory, while Tom Flesher insists that he lifted the shoulder off the mat in time.

 

Funyon: "In 14 minutes 3 seconds, here is your winner ... JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!"

 

A belligerent Tom Flesher grabs referee Scott Ryder by the lapels of the shirt, insisting he got the shoulder up in time. Not wanting to be in the ring when Flesher lets go of the referee, Jay Hawke slides outside the ring, walking down the aisle to the locker room with his arms in the air in victory as "Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)" blares over the PA.

 

King: "Tom Flesher complaining that he got the shoulder up on the dragon suplex, and he might have. It was very close."

 

Francis: "Much like the match itself. What you just witnessed was a technical masterpiece by two of the very best in the business, and I for one would love to see these two men hook it up again."

 

King: "Can you imagine pure wrestling rules or old school rules with these two against each other, Mak? The possibilities for that one would be endless."

 

Francis: "But for right now, Jay Hawke moves up in the top ten rankings with a big win over Tom Flesher in what might have been the most evenly fought match in SWF history, and I don't think the loss hurts Tom Flesher in the standings at all. But even after that tremendous contest, we're not done yet. When we return, more exciting action, right after you listen to this."

 

Cut to an ad for SWF.com.

[Chuck Woolery 0]

FADE IN

 

“It’s time for tag team action,” says Mak Francis, “as Wild and Dangerous make their pay-per-view return as a tag team, when they take on the Grand Aerial Armada. King, after what we saw back on Smarkdown, you have to wonder whether or not Wildchild feels like he can trust Johnny Dangerous?”

 

“Well, you really can’t blame him if he doesn’t,” remarks the Suicide King. “I mean, after all the times that Dangerous has stabbed him in the back, he can’t help but be skittish. Let’s face it, not even Wildchild is THAT stupid!”

 

“And just what,” asks Mak, “do you mean by that?”

 

“What I mean,” replies King, “is that Johnny Dangerous has been out for himself for as long as those two have known each other. And, as we saw back on Smarkdown, Wildchild has finally realized that, as long as Johnny’s pursuing or holding onto a singles title, that things are going to stay the same as they’ve always been between them!”

 

“Come on, King,” admonishes Mak,” that’s not really fair!”

 

“Like hell it isn’t!” relpies King. “Johnny Dangerous might talk a good game, and he might pay lip service to teamwork, but when it comes down to it, Johnny Dangerous is only ever looking out for one guy, and that‘s Johnny Dangerous!”

 

“I don’t buy that,” says Mak. “Wild and Dangerous is one of the greatest tag teams ever in the SWF, and I’m positive that Johnny will be there for Wildchild when it counts!”

 

“You know,” quips King, “you’re kind of gullible. And if you think for one minute that Johnny Dangerous is going to be thinking of anybody but himself, especially with his belt on the line, then you’re a little more than just physically disabled, pal!”

 

Mak’s face contorts in anger. “Now listen here, you son of a…”

 

“Now hey,” clarifies King, “don’t get me wrong: I’m the last guy on earth that’s going to argue the merits of looking out for number one… But, at least everybody knew where they stood with the Suicide King. Dangerous, on the other hand, always fools Wildchild into thinking that he’s going to be there for him, only to leaving him hanging when things start to get tough.”

 

“I think that may be an oversimplification of things,” says Mak, “but one thing that I will agree on is that they’re going to have to work together in order for them to prevail tonight. Especially against a team like the Grand Aerial Armada, which will be a little bit like looking in the mirror for these guys!”

 

“More like a time machine,” counters King. “As a team, Ultimo Phantasmo and Devin Benson remind me a lot of how Wild and Dangerous looked way back in the JL when they first started teaming together. I mean, you’ve got Phantasmo, who’s pretty much a younger version of Johnny Dangerous, and Devin Brown is almost like a smaller version of Wildchild.”

 

“Except that Ultimo Phantasmo is more of a grappler, whereas Dangerous is more of a striker,” says Mak. “It’s definitely going to be an exciting one, as we send it up to Funyon in the ring!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall!” booms Funyon. “And, whomever makes the pinfall in this match will become the International Champion!” With that, “Lost to Apathy” by Dark Tranquility begins to play, as the high-flying duo of Phantasmo and Benson step out to the stage.

 

“Making their way to the ring,” continues Funyon, “at a combined weight of four hundred ten pounds, Ultimo Phantasmo and Devin Benson… the GRAND Aerial ARRRRRMADA!” Phantasmo and benson slap hands with the fans at ringside, as they make their way to the ring.

 

“The Grand Aerial Armada are making their pay per view debut tonight,” says Mak. “And they look pretty excited to be here in Pyongyang!” Phantasmo and Benson both hop up onto the apron and then run to opposing corners, climbing up to the top turnbuckles to receive the adulation of the crowd.

 

“Ultimo Phantasmo and Devin Benson have both performed overseas before,” observes King, “but never in front of a crowd this size! Let’s just hope that they don’t wilt under the pressure!” Eventually, their music fades out, to be replaced by the electric riff that heralds Prodigy’s “Fuel My Fire!”

 

“Listen to this crowd go crazy!” exclaims Mak, as the four-time former tag team champions make their way out onto the stage.

 

“There’s no question about it,” concedes King, as WC and Johnny sprint down the aisle towards the ring, “they love their Wild and Dangerous here in Pyongyang!” WC and Johnny enter the ring, with Johnny sliding underneath the bottom rope as Wildchild somersaults between the ropes. Both men pop to their feet and salute the crowd.

 

“Their opponents,” booms Funyon, “at a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-nine pounds: First, from the Bahamas… The Wildchild! And, his tag team partner, from Las Vegas, Nevada, the IN-TER-NATIONAL Champion: Johnny DAAAAANGEROUS!” WC and Johnny run to the corners and climb the turnbuckles, earning more praise from the fans. They climb back down into the ring as their music fades out. WC and Johnny high-five each other near their corner, and then the Barracuda exits to the apron. Referee Red Herrington waits for the Grand Aerial Armada to decide which of them will begin, before he signals the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“Bell’s gone,” shouts Mak, “and we’re underway. It looks like it’s going to be Wildchild starting the match against Ultimo Phantasmo!” WC and Phantasmo meet in the center of the ring in a collar-and-elbow tie-up; the Boa Constrictor surprises the veteran, quickly taking control with a side headlock. Wildchild backs him up against the ropes and whips him across the ring, only for Phantasmo dives between his legs as he bounces off the ropes. WC is waiting for him, and scoops him up into his arms as he gets back to his feet, but the Boa Constrictor slips off his shoulders and grabs him from behind in a waistlock, pushing him towards the edge of the ring; experience pays off for the Bahama Bomber once again, though, as he grabs onto the ropes to save himself from being pulled into a rollup. WC charges towards Phantasmo, and the Boa Constrictor evades him with a leapfrog; UP runs across the ring, but Wildchild puts on the brakes and waits for him, leaping into the air and planting both feet in UP’s midsection as he locks his hands behind his head to take Phantasmo over with his patented Freefall monkey flip! Wildchild gets to his feet and walks over to pick up Phantasmo, but the Boa Constrictor kicks him in the chest with both feet, knocking him to the canvas! UP quickly scrambles to his feet and pulls Wildchild over to his corner, where he makes the tag to Devin. Phantasmo holds WC at bay as Benson climbs up to the top rope, quickly leaping off to nail the Caribbean Cruiser with a flying double-axe handle to the left shoulder! Benson grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him towards a neutral corner, only for WC to reverse it. Benson leaps onto the second turnbuckle as he approaches the corner, and then springs back into the ring, body extended to deliver a flying cross-body block… But the Tropical Tumbler reverses, rolling through the cross-body to counter with a pinning combination!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Benson kicks out at two! He stuns WC with an eye rake as he gets to his feet, and drags him back over to his corner, where he tags Phantasmo back in. UP and Benson each grab Wildchild by a wrist to whip him across the ring, but then hold onto his arms and pull him back towards them, crossing his arms over his head as he turns around and suddenly charging towards him, knocking the Bahama Bomber to the canvas with a sensational straightjacket double-clothesline!

 

“Beautiful double team by the GAA!” says Mak. UP and Devin scrambles back to their feet simultaneously…

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Barracuda springs into the ring to knock them both down with a double clothesline! WC recovers and helps his partner to try and take control of their opponents;

Johnny and Wildchild back their respective victims into the corners on opposing sides of the ring, and hammering away at their heads and chests with clubbing forearms. They glance back towards each other in order to decide upon their next action. Nodding in agreement, they each grab the wrist of their opponent and whip them towards the center of the ring, but Devin, his reflexes working overtime, leaps into the air on the dead run, and the Boa Constrictor uses his superior strength to reverse WC…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

… Sending the Human Hurricane directly into a running dropkick from Devin!

 

“What an amazing reversal of fortune by Grand Aerial Armada,” shouts Mak, as the fans cheer excitedly. “It looks like this match will be a good fight after all!”

 

Johnny rushes after Devin as he gets to his feet, but the Bahama Bomber steps to the side, and Phantasmo lowers his shoulder as the Barracuda rushes in, scooping him into a fireman’s carry. Phantasmo steps out of the corner as Benson runs towards the edge of the ring, and turns away from him as he bounces off the rope, falling backwards towards the canvas as Devin leaps up to grab Johnny’s neck…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Planting the Barracuda with a Samoan Drop/neckbreaker combination!

 

“Countdown,” shrieks Mak. “Who knows how much damage that move did to the Barracuda?”

 

SMACK!

 

As Devin gets to his feet, he walks right into a spinning wheel kick from the Bahama Bomber! LeCroix grabs Devin by the hair and pulls him to his feet, leading him over to the edge of the ring and throwing him over the top rope! Failing however to notice that Devin Benson has landed on his feet outside the ring, Wildchild turns back towards the ring to locate Ultimo Phantasmo…

 

 

THWACK!

 

 

… And the Boa Constrictor lifts him up in a bearhug, spinning him around to face the crowd, and dropping his neck on the top rope!

 

“Stun Gun,” shouts Mak. “Ultimo Phantasmo got LeCroix with that Hotshot-like maneuver!” Devin surreptitiously slides back into the ring as the Boa Constrictor lifts Wildchild’s legs off the mat. He stretches the Human Hurricane horizontally across the top rope as Devin bounces off the ropes and leaps into the air…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Flying over Phantasmo’s head and crashing into Wildchild’s back with a Slam Dance-like maneuver!

 

“Slam Dance,” shouts Mak, as Devin shoves LeCroix off of the ropes. “Can you believe this? Grand Aerial Armada are on fire! And their using Wild and Dangerous’ own offense against them!”

 

Johnny sneaks up behind the Boa Constrictor as Devin steps out onto the ring apron, and smashes him in the back with a clubbing double axe-handle. Turning Phantasmo around to face him, the Barracuda grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but Phantasmo reverses, sending Johnny into the ropes instead. The Boa Constrictor lowers his head to deliver a backdrop, but Johnny easily evades him with a running leapfrog…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Only to be blasted in the face by Devin, who explodes from the ring apron to the top rope and back into the ring, nailing Johnny with a flying elbow smash!

 

“What quick thinking by Benson,” exclaims Mak. “Johnny Dangerous though that he had the situation under control, but Devin came off the top rope to hit that elbow before he even knew what was going on!”

 

“I tell you what,” says King, “I’m very impressed with how well Ultimo Phantasmo and Devin Benson are doing in this match! It’s almost like they stole Wild and Dangerous’ playbook!”

 

Devin Benson bounces to his feet excitedly and he and Phantasmo wave their arms up and down to pump up the fans! Devin pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him towards the center of the ring, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him back towards the edge of the ring. Phantasmo appears beside him as the Human Hurricane bounces off the ropes, and they each loop an arm underneath those of the challenger, snatching him up off of the ground…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And slamming him into his partner’s chest with a double-hiptoss!

 

“Nice double-hiptoss by the GAA,” says Mak, as Grand Aerial Armada turn ninety degrees to face the other edge of the ring. Phantasmo grabs Devin by the wrist and whips him towards the ropes, but Benson quickly spins around on his heel and sends his partner in instead.

 

“What do you suppose is going on here,” asks Mak, as Phantasmo bounds off the ropes. Devin bends down to shoot the single-leg as his partner draws near and lifts him up off of the canvas, sending him sailing through the air as he falls backwards…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

… And crashing into Wildchild and Johnny yet again, this time with a flapjack-body splash!

 

“Good grief, King!” exclaims Mak. “You weren’t kidding when you said that these guys stole their playbook! And they’re running it almost as good as Wild and Dangerous used to!”

 

“It’s funny to see the two pretty boys finally getting a taste of their own medicine,” chuckles King. “And I can’t help but notice how Wild and Dangerous have yet to get on the same page here tonight.”

 

“Before you start trying to pick holes in Wild and Dangerous, King, how about giving some credit to the GAA? They’ve done a great job of taking the former champs out of their game plan!” Devin and Phantasmo pull LeCroix off of Johnny and to his feet, each grabbing him by a wrist and once again whipping him towards the edge of the ring. The Grand Aerial Armada suddenly leaps into the air simultaneously as the Human Hurricane bounces off of the ropes…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Blasting him in the face with a double-dropkick! The fans erupt as LeCroix falls backwards through the ropes and out to the floor!

 

“Double Dropkick,” shrieks Mak. “They may have just taken Wildchild out of this contest!” Phantasmo and Devin hold their arms above their heads and cross them together before pumping them up and down rapidly. The fans seem unsure of what this means until the Barracuda pulls Johnny to his feet and traps him in a front facelock as he directs Devin to head out onto the ring apron. Devin turns to face the crowd as Phantasmo casually tosses Johnny’s hand over the back of his neck to set up a vertical suplex. As Phantasmo lifts the Barracuda, Devin leaps onto the top rope and prepares to spring into ring…

 

CRASH!

 

 

… When Wildchild, in a desperate attempt to protect his partner, leaps onto the ring apron behind Devin and pushes the top rope out from underneath his feet, causing Benson to fall backwards outside the ring, smacking his head against the ring barricade! Phantasmo falls backwards to deliver a suplex, unaware of what just happened, as WC leaps from the top turnbuckle down to the arena floor, leveling Benson with a flying somersault senton!

 

“Look at this!” shouts Mak, as WC begins pounding away on Benson’s head. “Wild and Dangerous are trying to turn the tables on the GAA!” The Tropical Tumbler pulls Devin to his feet, when suddenly he sees Ultimo Phantasmo charging from across the ring…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And diving through the ropes to take him out with an Elbow Suicida! The Korean fans cheer as high-flying move is followed by high-flying move; UP and Devin pull Wildchild to his feet, and pull him up to his feet just in time to see the Barracuda launching himself over the top rope…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… To knock all three men down with a breathtaking plancha!

 

 

“What a tremendous sequence!” screams Francis. “Boy, has this match ramped up in a hurry!”

 

Johnny recovers first and pulls Ultimo to his feet, but the Boa Constrictor surprises him with a rake of the eyes and Herrington has seen just about enough! The referee climbs out of the ring and orders everyone out of the ring. However, not one man is paying any attention to this referee and Ultimo He Johnny by the wrist…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

… But the Barracuda reverses, sending him into the ringpost…and right into the referee!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!”

 

“Herrington inserted himself right into the mix and got squashed!” the Franchise announces as the referee slumps to the floor. Meanwhile, Wildchild recovers and pulls Benson off of the floor, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him towards the ring barricade, but Devin reverses, sending Wildchild instead. The Bahama Bomber leaps into the air as he draws near the barricade, and lands on top of it. Benson charges towards him in order to knock him down, but the Human Hurricane flips backwards off of the barricade, sailing over Devin and landing behind him. Devin puts his hands up to prevent himself from crashing into the barricade, and quickly spins around to locate his opponent. He runs towards Wildchild, but the Tropical Tumbler steps to the side, and Benson runs right past him…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

… And right into the foot of the Barracuda!

 

“Johnny Kick,” shouts Francis, as Devin falls to the floor like a sack of potatoes. “Devin Benson ran right into that Johnny kick!” Johnny bends down to pick up Benson…

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

…but with the Barracuda’s attention focused on Benson, Ultimo runs up behind Johnny and knocks him to the floor with a double axe-handle! Wildchild rushes back towards his partner…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

 

… Only to eat a superkick from the Devin!

 

“Red Herrington has lost all control of this match--wake up, idiot!” sneers King, as Ultimo pulls Johnny to his feet and dumps him unceremoniously over the barricade into the crowd. He then rips the protective padding off of the arena floor behind the referee’s line of sight.

 

“Dammit, ref, get up and pay attention to what’s going on,” shouts Francis. Ultimo picks Wildchild up and rolls him underneath the bottom rope before climbing onto the apron. He uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet and then reaches over the top rope into the ring, grabbing Wildchild by the hair and pulling him back to his feet.

 

“Devin Benson is a little slow to get back up after that Johnny Kick,” notes Mak, as UP turns Wildchild around to face the inside of the ring. “But after the beating that he took earlier on in the match, who can blame him… By God, is Ultimo Phantasmo going to do what I think he’s going to do?”

 

“If he does,” answers King, as UP reaches over the top rope to wrap his hands around Wildchild’s waist, “you can kiss Wildchild goodbye!”

 

“Oh no,” shrieks Francis. “Suplex to the outside coming up!” Phantasmo tightens his grip and pops his hips to jerk Wildchild off of his feet and outside the ring, but the Bahama Bomber laces his feet around the bottom rope, preventing the suplex attempt.

 

“Thank heaven,” sighs Mak, as UP tries repeatedly to pull Wildchild out of the ring, to no avail. “Wildchild’s quick thinking may have saved him from permanent injury!”

 

 

BAP!

 

 

Wildchild thrusts his elbow back sharply, smashing the Boa Constrictor on the bridge of the nose, and snapping his head back with a wicked elbow smash! Phantasmo lurches his head back, and begins shaking it vigorously to clear the cobwebs as Johnny crawls back over the ring barricade.

 

“Look out, Ultimo,” warns King, as Johnny jumps up and smacks him in the small of the back with a forearm. The Boa Constrictor slumps backwards off the apron, allowing Johnny to step underneath him and position UP in a seated position on his shoulders.

 

“NO,” screams King, as Wildchild runs to the corner and climbs onto the top turnbuckle. “Don’t do it!”

 

“Turnabout is fair play,” replies Francis, as Johnny turns to face the exposed concrete floor. “You didn’t have any problems with Ultimo wanting to suplex Wildchild onto the concrete!” Wildchild runs across the top rope before diving off of it out of the ring. He snares Phantasmo’s head in a side headlock as he flies through the air, and Johnny kicks his legs out from underneath him…

 

 

*WHAAAAM!*

 

 

… Sitting out into an Electric Chair Drop as Wildchild drives the Boa Constrictor’s head face first into the exposed concrete with a flying bulldog headlock!

 

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“Holy Shit,” exclaims Francis. “Dangerous Drop! By God, a Dangerous Drop out onto the concrete!” Johnny and Wildchild get back to their feet, leaving Phantasmo lying face down in a cesspool of his own self esteem and blood, and turn their attention back to Devin Benson, who is just now starting to get up.

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

Wildchild and Johnny each thrust their feet towards Benson’s face, nearly decapitating him with a double-superkick!

 

“Chicklet Buster,” shudders Mak, “By God, what a marvelous double-superkick! I think I felt my own teeth rattle on that one!” Wildchild rolls Devin underneath the bottom rope and slides in after him. The Human Hurricane pulls Devin to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, leaping into the air as Benson bounces off the ropes and whipping his leg sharply through the air…

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

… And crushing his windpipe with a leg lariat! Wildchild rolls back to his feet and steps out of the ring having seen sight of Herrington crawling back into the ring, leaving the two legal men standing inside. Johnny applies a lateral press as Herrington crawls in to weakly count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THRE—

 

 

No!

 

 

“Kickout,” sighs King. “Thank God, he kicked out!” the Barracuda pulls Benson back to his feet and starts to lead him over to his corner, but Benson refuses to go away quietly and he boots the Barracuda in the gut! Having been caught by complete surprise, Johnny quickly buckles and drops to his knees. Devin takes him by his wrist and pulls him up then moves to send the Barracuda across the ring with and Irish whip, but Johnny puts a stop to that plan as he spins around with an elbow, catching Benson in the side of his jaw! Devin is stunned just long enough for Johnny to have the time needed to put some distance between Benson and himself and he takes off for his corner. However, Devin isn’t going to just let Johnny Dangerous slip away and tag in a fresh man that easily and he chases after him. He catches up and grabs around Johnny from behind but it the Barracuda just toes Benson with him like a great NFL running back headed for the touchdown line, and slaps his partner’s outstretched hand once he gets there!

 

“Wildchild is in!” shouts Mak. Johnny sends a boot backwards and nails Benson in the gut, doubling him over and forcing all of the wind out of his lungs. The Bahaman quickly leaps to the top of the turnbuckle and dives forward, over Dangerous and into the ring, and grabs Devin around the waist to haul him over for a sunset flip!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“Talk about a quick reversal of fortunes,” says Mak. “Wildchild’s surprise sunset flip just might have this match ended.”

 

Herrington quickly slides in to count as LeCroix holds Benson in place…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but the Pennsylvanian rookie thrusts his arm up to get the shoulder off the mat before the three-count is reached, “-and the Barracuda is probably letting out a sigh of relief right about now and rightfully so,” says King. “It’d be pretty pathetic to win the match but loose the International title to your own tag partner, anyway.”

 

“Actually, King,” replies Francis, “I think if anything Wildchild is the one man Johnny wouldn’t mind losing the belt to.”

 

“Right, don’t come crying to me when that happens and Johnny clocks Wildchild upside his head.”

 

 

Phantasmo, with a gash on his forehead, worriedly looks on from the corner as Devin is slow to make his way to his feet, and starts pounding on the top of the turnbuckle to try and get his partner moving. These two have come to far to get upstaged so easily by Wild and Dangerous. However, Devin still has to contend with the Wildchild before even thinking about a tag, and he pulls Benson up to his feet with a handful of hair and then sends him across the ring with an Irish whip. Devin hits the far ropes and bounces back towards the Bahama Bomber. His eyes are a bit unfocused but he can see Wildchild beginning the motions for one of his patented leg lariat, and he dives for the canvas to avoid the shot and goes sliding on his stomach underneath the Caribbean’s lariat! The fans cheer the rather humorous yet effective escape by Benson but he pays them no heed and instead jumps up to his feet and makes his way for the opposite ropes, hoping he can make it there and back before Wildchild can fully regain his balance. He heads back towards the Bahaman after hitting the ropes, picking up some serious steam, and then leaps into the air with a cross body block…

 

*WHAM!*

 

…but Wildchild jumps up and plants two feet directly into Devin Benson’s chest! Again Devin is floored and Wildchild applies a lateral press…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

…but Ultimo Phantasmo rushes into the ring and puts a basement dropkick into the Bahama Bomber’s noggin, obviously not wanting to wager on his partners resilience. The count is abruptly ended and Herrington immediately jumps up to chastise Phantasmo for his interference, but Ultimo knows he has no time for the referee’s lectures as the Barracuda is coming with fist a blazin’!

 

*WHACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

Ultimo is barely able to shove Herrington aside before Dangerous rattles his skull with two consecutive shots! Johnny tries for a third but it’s blocked as well as a fourth before Phantasmo takes the Barracuda down with a quick shoulder tackle. The two continue to tussle when they hit the mat and the pair ends up rolling out of the ring, tumbling to the outside floor, much to the celebration of ten-thousand!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!”

 

“I’m sure Herrington is just glad to have those two out of the ring,” King speculates. “He almost lost total control of this match again!”

 

“Maybe so,” agrees Mak Francis, “and with Wildchild and Devin Benson both down on their backs I’m sure their glad they won’t get trampled.”

 

Both men begin to move at about the same time—Wildchild with his head spinning and Devin with his chest burning. However, both men know they can’t let the pain stop them from winning this match and with both of their respective partners sparring on the outside they know it’s up to them…and so they push up off the mat with both hands and dazedly stand to their feet.

 

“This could be the final stand for either man here tonight!” Mak shouts, as the fans buzz with excitement for the two men. Wildchild steps forward as does Devin but Benson leads with a quick jab to the side of the Bahaman’s head, and with his head already woozy he doesn’t take the shot too lightly! Wildchild responds with a quick fist to Benson, which rocks the rookies head on his neck and then peppers him with three more shots! Benson is backed into the ropes, reeling, and the Bahama Bomber takes flight across the ring. He hits the far ropes and then comes rocketing back towards his opponent with a handspring…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…and flings his elbow into Benson’s face! Devin slumps into the corner while on the outside Johnny flings Ultimo into the corner ring post!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“Good God, Almighty!” shouts Mak as the Korean crowd roars in approval of the violence. “I think GAA is as good as done for the night.”

 

Wildchild waits for Johnny to get back to the corner and then tags him in, blatantly forgoing the obvious pin attempt. Dangerous nods and steps in the ring, then strips off his shirt and flings it into the crowd!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

“Dangerous is looking to finish this one off,” calls Francis, but instead of the MI Slam that everyone is expecting…Johnny calls for the Silver Bullet to the roar of ten-thousand! Johnny crouches down and creeps in behind Devin Benson as the rookie staggers to his feet, and when Benson turns around towards Johnny the Barracuda whips him across the ring. Benson hits the ropes and helplessly heads back towards the secret agent as Wildchild balances himself on the top rope, and when Johnny lifts Devin up for a back body drop is when the Bahaman explodes off the rope and drills Benson in the skull with an elbow!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILVEEEEEEER BULLET!” Francis excitedly shouts as Johnny drops over Devin Benson to make the final, deciding pin…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!!!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners of this match…WILD AND DANGEROUS!” booms Funyon. “And with Johnny Dangerous making the pin he is still your REIGNING SWF INTERNATIOOOONAAAAAAAAAAL CHAMPION!!!”

 

“And the Barracuda manages to hold on to the International Championship after a hard fight,” the Franchise happily says. “Hopefully it’s the first of many victories for the reunited Wild and Dangerous…and hopefully the last time someone will try to use a singles title to drive a wedge between two tag team partners.”

 

“Drive a wedge?” King questions rather heatedly. “I think it just shows true colors. Johnny made Wildchild tag him back in so he could get the pin.”

 

“Please, King! Wildchild graciously tagged Johnny in to make the pin. He’s proving right there that he can be trusted now Johnny needs to prove the same for once and for all.”

 

Johnny and Wildchild stand in the middle of the ring, separated only by the referee who stands between them to raise their arms. Their music is pumping and the crowd is cheering…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT.

Edited November 7, 2006 by chirs3

[Chuck Woolery 0]

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the ELIMINATION CHAMBER~!” Funyon booms as the massive structure starts to lower from the ceiling.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Six competitors will enter the Chamber, having undertaken a random draw backstage. The first four will be assigned to a mini-chamber, while the final two will begin the match. At five minute intervals a mini-chamber will be randomly selected and the competitor inside will join the match,” Funyon explains. “A competitor can be eliminated via pinfall or submission, once eliminated they must leave the Chamber. The last competitor to not be eliminated will become World Heavyweight Champion… as an additional stipulation, if any of the competitors who meet the Cruiserweight limit eliminate Michael Stephens the current Cruiserweight Champion then they will become Cruiserweight Champion and will remain so no matter what the eventual outcome of the match, and if they are themselves subsequently eliminated!”

 

“Well, there you go,” Mak Francis comments, “this match promises to be brutal…”

 

“AS AN ADDED POINT,” Funyon starts up again, cutting The Franchise off, “Joseph Peters has decided to add a Ringside Enforcement Team to this match. Their job will be to ensure that competitors leave the Chamber once they have been eliminated; if in their view a competitor is refusing to leave or taking too long to leave they have full authority to take action as they see fit, up to and including entering the Chamber themselves!”

 

“What?” King asks, “that wasn’t in the programme notes!”

 

“I wonder who Peters got for that job?” Mak wonders.

 

All the lights in the arena shut down, leaving only moonlight and camera flashes to illuminate the darkness. A deep voice resounds over the speakers, but it is in no language that the human mind is capable of understanding or deciphering. But that isn't so much of a problem, as the Smarktron offers a translation in flowing white text, with red smoke already rising in front of the entranceway.

 

Thy next opponent is madness twinned; the forces of chaos and destruction combined.

 

As the heavy riffs of a guitar echo from the speakers, the fans begin to cheer - they remember this from Genesis. A black silhouette fills the red smoke, and then is almost perfectly mirrored by one beside it. Then the song begins, and while many people don't recognise it, its words portend doom. For the song is by Amon Amarth - specifically 'When Silent Gods Stand Guard'.

 

The last head falls to the ground.

No one is left alive.

They thought that they could take us down.

But it's not our time to die...

 

The red smoke clears as the black silhouettes stride through it, causing the crowd to explode with cheers as spotlights track their paths towards the ring. For striding in, flick-scythe over his shoulder and a grim expression on his face, comes the Black Angel, Aecas. This in itself would be intimidating if not for the entrance of another colossus beside him, with glittering red eyes, a long white trenchcoat, and a rather psychotic demeanour. The Black Angel would be trouble enough, without the Hell Machine also present.

 

Ten men are dead by our feet.

We smell their steaming blood.

And we smile, cause it makes us...

Makes us feel so good.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Oh Christ on a cracker,” King gulps, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be taking too long leaving the Elimination Chamber tonight, Mak!”

 

“Nope,” is the Franchise’s only response.

 

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.

 

“An lucky start for Gabriel Drake perhaps,” Mak comments, “in his first ever World Title match he’ll be sitting on the sidelines for at least five minutes, because being first out means he goes into one of the ‘mini-chambers’. He’s the least experienced man in this match, but we know he has issues with both Michael Stephens and Landon Maddix, and he’s been virtually unstoppable since joining the SWF!”

 

“Landon came away with a flukey, snatch-and-grab win in their cage match at Genesis,” King replies, “he can’t win by escaping this time.

 

Gabe steps up into the Elimination Chamber… and words start to flash up on the Smarktron.

 

‘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 this 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, jumping into the Chamber at a full run. 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.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Second, from Elkhart, Indiana,” Funyon booms, “he weighs in tonight at 200lbs, this is ‘The Unique Youth’… ZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-ON!!”

 

“Zyon’s come up short challenging Michael Stephens for both the World Title and the Cruiserweight Title in recent months,” Mak Francis comments, “but he could have his chance to shine tonight - again, he has the advantage of not starting. But bear in mind that his former tag team partner and old enemy Spike Jenkins is also in this match, and the issues between those two wrestler might come into play before the night is out!”

 

“I’ve done the ‘beatable tool’ line before, haven’t I?” King asks.

 

“Yes. Twice.”

 

“Still true. Zyon hasn’t got a hope.”

 

There is the faint sound of a needle scratching over vinyl while all the lights in the arena go to full. Then:

 

*BAM!*

 

The heavy drumming of Norma Jean’s ‘Creating Something Out Of Nothing, Only To Destroy It’ blasts out through the air, prompting a chorus of boos from the fans in attendance; moments later Norma Jean get their revenge as the vocals kick in:

 

‘Like bringing a knife to a gunfight…’

 

 

‘Like Bringing A Knife To A Gunfight…’

 

 

‘LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUNFIGHT!’

 

The growl hits the crowd as white lights start to strobe around the entranceway, and a few seconds later Spike Jenkins walks out with a Mastodon hoodie on. The straight-edger drops to one knee with one arm falling to the floor, the other draped over his raised knee, then rises to his feet again and crosses his arms in front of him.

 

“Introducing third, from Hollywood, California,” Funyon announces, “he weighs in tonight at 220lbs; representing the Kingdom of Cambodia, ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE… JEN-KINS!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“They don’t like Cambodia in North Korea, do they?” King asks, looking around.

 

“-and here’s the man I was mentioning just now,” Mak says, ignoring his partner, “Spike Jenkins has had notable clashes with Bruce Blank, Zyon, and before and after both those men, Michael Stephens; a founder-member of Revolution Zero, Spike was a dominant Cruiserweight Champion but came up short when trying to regain the title against his old leader recently.”

 

“He also put you in that wheelchair,” King notes clinically.

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Spike climbs into the Chamber, first stripping off his hoodie, then goes to his own mini-chamber after sneering at Zyon.

 

“COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!”

“COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!”

 

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:

 

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’

 

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-

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

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

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

…trenchcoat unzipped over his England soccer shirt…

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

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

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

…comes the man once known as Toxxic. He pauses at the top of the entrance ramp, steel-grey eyes focusing on the Chamber and his opponents, then starts to stride down towards the squared circle.

 

“Listen to this reaction!” Mak Francis shouts over the crowd noise.

 

“I’m trying not to!” King shouts back.

 

“And the fourth competitor, from Nottingham, England,” Funyon bellows, “he weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is accompanied to the ring by his sister Amy… he is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, and the reigning and defending SWF Cruiserweight AND World Heavyweight Champion… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!”

 

Stephens strides down the entrance ramp with Amy bringing up the rear, swigging lager from a can. The Triple Champion sheds his trenchcoat and soccer shirt before entering the Chamber, then hands all three title belts to referee Brian Warner, who will be one of the referees waiting outside and controlling the mini-chamber doors.

 

“The defending champion comes in with an advantage tonight then,” Mak notes, “he too will be waiting at least five minutes before he has to start competing, which may be a relief given the matches and enmity he has had with all five other competitors. And of course,” the Franchise adds as Stephens climbs into the Chamber and heads for his own mini-chamber, “this means we now know who will start the match…”

 

The Smarktron suddenly flashes up the words ‘Bruce Blank’, causing a predictable reaction:

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

‘I… AM… IRON MAN!’

 

‘Iron Man’ by Black Sabbath pounds out of the speakers and Bruce Blank appears at the top of the entrance ramp, flanked and supported by his far smaller brother Wayne. The big man seems to vaguely focus on the ring and starts stumbling down towards it while Wayne tries to prevent him from banging into the guardrails.

 

“The fifth competitor, from the Dirty Tornado Trailer Park in Mobile, Alabama,” Funyon declares, “he weighs in tonight at 295lbs and is accompanied to the ring by his brother Wayne… the ‘Redneck Superman’, BRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUCE… BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!!”

 

Bruce reaches the entrance to the Chamber and manages, at the second go, to get into it. Meanwhile Wayne has seen Aecas and Janus at their stations nearby and tries to hurry his brother in, not wanting Bruce to see them and decide to start a fight before the match even begins.

 

"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…"

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“I’m still not entirely sure how Landon got popular,” Mak Francis confesses, “but I guess when the last guy out is Bruce Blank, you’ll cheer anything.”

 

"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!"

 

Megan Skye steps out from behind the curtain, heralding the arrival of Landon who stops at the top of the ramp and thrust his hands out to his sides. The Pyongyang crowd give a positive response to the other half of the Tag Team Champions, who smirks cockily and starts to strut down towards the ring.

 

“And the last competitor, from Huron, South Dakota,” Funyon announces, “he weighs in tonight at 220lbs and is accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye; he is one-half of the Swf Tag Team Champions, this is LANDON… ‘LA CUCARRRRRACHAAAA… MAAAAAAD-DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXX!!”

 

Maddix removes his trenchcoat at the bottom of the ramp and hands it, along with his Tag Title belt, to Megan Skye. Then he gives his valet/girlfriend a kiss on the cheek for luck and jumps into the Elimination Chamber.

 

“Landon of course had a heated rivalry with Michael Stephens not many months back,” Mak Francis notes, “they’ve been tagging more recently through Joseph Peters and his crazy schemes, but now they face off again, albeit with four other men involved. Landon also has history with Gabriel Drake after their Cage match at Genesis and the events that led up to it, but we’ll have to see how strong the ties of teamwork are between Maddix and Stephens if they end up in the ring together…”

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“And we’re underway!” Mak Francis says with barely contained excitement, “here in the Pyongyang Arena we’re going to see the first ever SWF Elimination Chamber match, and the first multi-man World Title match since Ground Zero 2004!”

 

“Come on, it’s 5-to-1 odds,” King says, offering up a brief prayer, “Toxxic has to lose, surely!”

 

“To Landon Maddix maybe?”

 

“Goddammit, don’t say that!”

 

Maddix himself seems cautious, hanging back from the belligerent drunk across the ring from him. Bruce roars out a challenge and lumbers forward to make a grab for the blonde cruiserweight, but Maddix ducks away from his opponent’s grasp and jogs lightly away from the former International Champion, then takes up station again. Bruce turns around, clearly annoyed, and heads for Landon once more; once again, Maddix easily evades him.

 

“I’m not sure what Landon Maddix is waiting for here,” Mak Francis says as Landon busts out a quick pose for the crowd, who break into applause, “he probably has a fair chance of outmanoeuvring Bruce even within the confines of the Chamber, but he has five minutes before the next competitor enters; working against the clock as he is, why is he wasting time dodging about and posing?”

 

“Maddix is a coward and an opportunist,” King replies as Bruce shouts something probably uncomplimentary but thankfully unintelligible at La Cucaracha, “he’s more likely to wait for someone else to come out and do the dirty work for him.”

 

“You may have a point,” Francis admits, “neither Spike Jenkins nor Michael Stephens have any love for Bruce Blank, and for all their little face-off on Smarkdown, Zyon might well be more likely to side with Landon than against him if Bruce is also in on the equation. This could actually be good tactics and playing the odds from Landon!”

 

“God, don’t tell me I convinced you he’s being smart…” King moans.

 

However, whether being smart or cowardly, Landon’s never shy of showing off. The man from Huron is now brandishing an imaginary red cloak (at least, we assume it’s a red cloak, being imaginary it’s difficult to tell) and goading his opponent on. Bruce might not be quite clear why Maddix is flapping his hands around, but it’s plain to the big man that a sudden rush to catch his opponent off-guard is what’s needed here. So he breaks into a run, hurtling towards Landon with alarming speed…

 

…Maddix skips nimbly to one side, revealing the turnbuckle behind him…

 

…and Bruce cannons into the ringpost at full tilt!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“OLE!” Maddix yells, showing that yes, he does know some Spanish.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd roar their approval as the Redneck Superman staggers backwards, but Blank’s momentum is suddenly arrested as Landon positions himself behind the big man and superkicks him in the back of the head! Bruce’s head snaps forward - coincidentally into the top buckle, and the Alabaman slumps into a heap in the corner holding his skull. Landon sees his chance and claps his hands together a few times to get the crowd into it, then runs for the ropes…

 

“It could be time to Get Licked, King,” Mak says conversationally.

 

“As long as it’s by a couple of nubile Korean women, I’m all for it.”

 

However, the Gambling Man’s fantasies are not to be fulfilled as Maddix rebounds off the ropes and leaps high into the air, getting enormous height and hang time before driving both boots into Bruce Blank’s face to crush it against the bottom turnbuckle!

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON!”

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON!”

 

Maddix pops back to his feet and stretches his arms out to invite crowd applause again, then returns his attention to the big man in the corner. Bruce is clutching his face as if he’s afraid it might come off, but he’s nothing if not tough (and dumb) and he’s getting right back up again. Maddix measures his opponent’s progress for a moment before darting for the ropes, then coming back with a good run-up and launching himself into the air to drive his boot into Bruce’s face with the spinning gamengiri known as the Cucaracha Kick!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“What athleticism from Landon!” Mak says, impressed.

 

“-but Bruce is still standing!” King points out. And sure enough, the Redneck Superman is distinctly wobbly and looking even more glassy-eyed than has been the norm of late, but he remains upright! Maddix looks distinctly unimpressed and gets back to his feet, then leaps up to hit a Dropsault that catches the big man in the chest. Bruce wobbles…

 

…and this time does topple backwards, hitting the canvas hard enough to make the ring shake! Landon smirks in a satisfied manner and runs for the ropes again, rebounding off before jumping in the air to land a double stomp on his opponent’s ribcage, then dropping into a back senton. He reaches over with one arm and hooks one of Bruce’s big legs (not without some considerable effort) and makes a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

-but Bruce kicks out before two, nowhere near ready to lie down and die yet (although given the amount he’s drinking, lying down and sleeping probably isn’t far off). Maddix seems almost offended that he didn’t get a two-count off that little offensive flurry, and with a cheerful thumbs-up to Michael Stephens (who just watches dispassionately) he peels Bruce off the mat. It doesn’t take much effort to keep the groggy big man in a doubled-over position, and this allow Landon to grab the back of his opponent’s head and-

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“KICK YOUR FACE!” Mak shouts, simply to annoy King. Landon soaks in the cheers for a moment, then on the basis that it hasn’t hurt him so far he turns to run for the ropes and rebounds towards his opponent.

 

However, on this occasion Bruce suddenly swings into action and grabs the onrushing cruiserweight before hurling him high in the air…

 

“Whoops,” Mak comments.

 

…and punching him in the gut on the way down.

 

‘OOOFFF!’

 

“Yes! You show him, Bruce!” King cackles in malicious glee as his least-favourite SWF wrestler suddenly has his oxygen repossessed courtesy of Bruce’s massive fist. Blank wobbles, clearly destabilised by the repeated shots to the head Landon gave him, but just as clearly drunkenly determined to exact revenge on his opponent, manages to focus on La Cucaracha writhing in pain on the mat. It takes him two attempts, but Bruce succeeds in applying a highly technical wear-down hold… standing on Landon’s throat.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“C’mon now!” Mak protests as Matthew Kivell remonstrates with Bruce.

 

“C’mon what?” King demands, “hello, Elimination Chamber? No rules!”

 

Indeed not. You won’t get disqualified in an Elimination Chamber match. You won’t save yourself from being pinned by getting a rope break either, anymore that you would in a Hell In A Cell (unless you’re the Suicide King getting the benefit of a faulty call). However, Bruce Blank’s alcohol-addled mind probably doesn’t remember this; all he knows is he’s got another shot to win the World Title, and he doesn’t want to lose his chance. As a result, roughly four-and-a-half seconds after he starts standing on Landon’s throat… he raises his foot, allowing his opponent to breathe.

 

“Bruce! Bruce! You don’t have to do that!” King shouts in dismay, “choke the bastard out!”

 

But Bruce can’t hear the Gambling Man, anymore than he can hear his brother Wayne (who tries to impart the same advice, then retreats and quietens as Amy Stephens and Megan Skye approach menacingly). Instead the Redneck Superman burbles something at Matthew Kivell, then bends down and nearly falls over. However, after steadying himself he’s able to grab Landon by the head and haul La Cucaracha upright, then hoists the smaller man up and begins pressing him over his head! Bruce starts counting out loud:

 

‘ONE!’

 

‘TWO!’

 

‘THREE!’

 

‘FOUR!’

 

‘FIVE…’

 

‘…er…’

 

…but the crowd don’t join in and the big man gets lost (possibly because he rarely hears a referee count above four-and-a-half) His face crinkles in concentration as he tries to remember where he was…

 

…and Landon Maddix takes advantage of his opponent’s inaction to wriggle free of the big man’s grasp and drop down to the mat behind Bruce!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Bruce turns around in surprise and Landon pastes him in the face with a forearm… which to be fair, does precisely nothing. Bruce blinks, then swings a massive right-handed haymaker at his nimble opponent, but Landon ducks under it and reaches up to wrap his arms around Blank’s neck before dropping backwards and taking the big man down with the Complete Shot!

 

*BANG!*

 

Bruce’s face gets driven into the mat and Landon takes a second to catch his breath, then starts heaving at his large opponent’s bulk to try and turn him over onto his back. It takes a precious few seconds to do it, but finally Landon has Bruce’s shoulders on the canvas…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Bruce still kicks out well before three, nowhere near ready to relinquish his shot at the World Title yet! Landon allows Bruce to turn all the way over and get his big arms under him ready to surge upright, but La Cucaracha then takes advantage by jumping onto his opponent’s back and reaching forward to apply the Land of Nod!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“I don’t know how much of a grasp Bruce has on reality right now anyway,” Mak says, “but this could knock the big man out right in front of us, and leave Landon fresh and ready to face the next competitor!”

 

“It’s going to take more than a glorified chinlock to put Bruce down!” King snorts, desperately trying to denigrate a move once used by Edwin. However, regardless of his assessment of the nature of the hold it appears that the Gambling Man may have a point about it’s effectiveness; Landon easily snaked his arm past Bruce’s groggy defences to crank back on his opponent’s neck, but Bruce is able to start getting up with Landon still clinging to his back! Maddix wrenches back on his hold, trying to unbalance Bruce or persuade him to go back to the mat, but the big man has enough power in his body to get to something approaching a vertical base! Bruce can’t see very well as Maddix is doing his best to tear his head off backwards, but he manages to align himself with one of the ringposts and then staggers into reverse. Landon holds on and braces himself for impact, but there’s only a limited amount that bracing will do…

 

*THUMP!*

 

…and Maddix has the air knocked from his lungs for the second time in the match as Bruce sandwiches him between redneck and turnbuckles. This causes the Tag Champion to loosen his grip and crumple off Bruce to the floor, while Bruce staggers forward wheezing and slapping himself in the head to clear it.

 

“Possibly a bit too early for the Land of Nod,” Mak concedes, “but now it’s going to be a question of who can recover and get back on the offensive the soonest.”

 

“Not to mention who comes out next,” Suicide King puts in.

 

Bruce seems to have cleared his head to a certain extent now, and he turns around to try and get a bead on Maddix. The half-Spaniard quickly realises that the game is afoot again and rolls out of the way as Bruce tries to drive his cowboy boot right through Maddix’s head, the pops up behind the bigger man. Landon leaps up and grabs Bruce by the shoulders, planting his knees in the Redneck Superman’s back and ready to fall back with the Lungblower… but Bruce grabs one top rope in each hand and hangs on, refusing to be pulled down!

 

“What a counter by Bruce!” Mak says, impressed despite himself, “but can he hold on? Can Landon hold on?”

 

Landon isn’t used to holding on in this position; it’s a case of jump, fall, bang. He lacks the purchase to stay with his knees buried in Bruce’s back for long, and so after a couple of seconds of hoping that Blank’s grip will fail the Tag Champion drops his feet back to the floor.

 

Unfortunately, as he does so Bruce feels the shift in weight and swings one leg backwards in a massive mule kick.

 

*CHING!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

 

Landon curls himself into a protective ball while on the outside Megan Skye winces and resigns herself to sleeping alone for the next few days. Bruce smirks in triumph as the crowd start booing, then turns around to drop into a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Landon kicks out!

 

“That was almost enough to put Landon out of the match right there!” Mak exclaims, “another big hit and Bruce could be the one waiting for the next competitor!”

 

“He’ll have to hurry,” King says, looking at his watch, “we haven’t got long by my count…”

 

Bruce grabs Maddix and drags the smaller man up, then grabs him as if for a backdrop suplex. However, instead of bridging backwards the Redneck Superman hoists Maddix up to the apex of the lift before calmly walking forwards and dumping La Cucaracha down astride the top turnbuckle, which isn’t going to help Landon’s testicular trauma any. To add insult to injury Bruce then proceeds to grab a handful of hair and wrench backwards, dragging Landon back and down and into the classic Tree of Woe position! The crowd starts to boo, but it’s at this point that a clock appears on the Smarktron and the fans start to count along as the lights drop down and spots strobe around the cage, touching all four mini-chambers…

 

“TEN!”

 

“NINE!”

 

“EIGHT!”

 

“SEVEN!”

 

“SIX!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“ONE!”

 

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT*

 

The strobing has stopped and the spot illuminates one cage for a moment before the main lights come back up.

 

That cage is the one that contains ‘The Beast’ Gabriel Drake.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“This is bad, bad news for Landon Maddix!” Mak Francis yells as Brian Warner unlocks the cage from the outside and Drake sweeps the door aside with a contemptuous shove, then strides out into the main chamber, “of all the men he didn’t want released first, Gabriel Drake is the prime candidate!”

 

“Where’s he going?” King asks in confusion, because Drake is ignoring the corner where Bruce Blank is starting to stomp the life out of Landon Maddix, and is instead heading straight across the chamber.

 

Straight to where Michael Stephens stands, locked behind plexiglass and glaring right back at his former friend. Gabe doesn’t pause. In fact he steps through the ropes and unleashes a massive kick.

 

*BANG!*

 

The impact makes such a noise that Red Herrington, the referee in charge of Stephens’ door, actually jumps. Drake snarls and backs off a couple of steps, then rushes in again!

 

*BANG!*

 

*BANG!*

 

“He’s trying to break in!” Mak says, struck down by stating-the-obvious syndrome, “Gabriel Drake is trying to get at Michael Stephens!”

 

Stephens doesn’t seem worried - in fact he beckons Drake in, seemingly almost asking the bigger man to break his door down so they can come to blows again. Drake is happy to oblige:

 

*BANG!*

 

*BANG!*

 

*BANG!*

 

-but finally The Beast backs off, conceding defeat and radiating frustration. Then, with a wicked smile on his face, he turns and fixes his gaze on Landon Maddix. Stephens yells and hammers on his chamber, trying to distract his former friend, but Drake ignores him and heads for Maddix. Maddix himself is unaware of the approaching hostile as he’s just managed to unhook his legs from the turnbuckle and toppled to the floor, preventing Bruce Blank from kicking him in the gut anymore but certainly not out of the woods yet. Blank reaches down and grabs Maddix by the hair before hauling him to his feet…

 

…and Gabriel Drake reaches past the big man to take hold of Landon, then hauls the battered Tag Champion into a standing headscissors! Bruce looks around in confusion, just in time to see Drake hoists Landon up into the air, spin around 450 degrees while standing, then driving La Cucaracha down with a Spiral Powerbomb!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Drake leans forward into the cover with a sadistic grin on his face…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Bruce breaks it up by pulling Drake away from the cover!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“What?” Mak says, confused. Meanwhile the crowd cheer, happy that Maddix is still in the match even if they don’t like the guy who’s kept him there.

 

“No no no!” King seethes, “don’t do that! Get rid of him!”

 

Drake gets back to his feet and snarls up at Blank, but the big man is unperturbed and growls something back at The Beast, jabbing himself in the chest with a thumb as he does so.

 

“King, I think Bruce Blank doesn’t want Gabriel Drake to get the credit for pinning Landon Maddix when he’s done most of the groundwork,” Francis speculates as the argument continues, “I’d concede that he has a point, but at the same time you’d have to say that eliminating a two-time World Champion should be a priority before you consider style and form.”

 

“Fine Bruce, you want to pin him? Pin him,” King agrees hurriedly.

 

Drake doesn’t like Bruce’s mouth, possibly even more so due to the beer fumes emanating from it, so shoves Bruce in the chest. Blank looks surprised, then his features twist into anger and he shoves back!

 

“WILL SOMEONE PLEASE PIN LANDON MADDIX!?” King bawls.

 

Unfortunately it’s not shaping up to be the Gambling Man’s night. Bruce’s shove has considerably more strength behind it than Drake’s, and The Beast is sent stumbling backwards. This doesn’t sit well with Drake, never known for his tolerance, and he charges straight back in towards the former Ultraviolent and International Champion, lowers his head at the last moment and delivers a devastating Spear that takes Bruce off his feet!

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd are cheering on general principle, as anything that involves pain being caused to Bruce or Drake is good by them. Drake follows up his Spear by getting into a mount position and starting to hammer right hands down on the Redneck Superman; Bruce responds by literally swatting the smaller man off him with a tree-like arm, then swinging around and launching a kick at Drake while they’re both still on the mat. Drake rolls away and comes up to his feet with eyes blazing; Bruce tries to get up, but a combination of accrued injuries and drunkenness means he enjoys considerably less success. Another worrying smile crosses Drake’s face and he heads towards his downed opponent, but at this point his progress is arrested.

 

*CHING!*

 

Landon Maddix is back in the match.

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON!”

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON!”

 

Maddix’s lowblow brings Drake to a tottering halt, and the Spanish-American - no longer smiling or smirking or doing anything remotely resembling humour - rises back to his feet from the kneeling position he’d rolled up into and grabs Drake by the shoulder, then spins him around. Moments later the testicularly-traumatised Georgian is bent backwards, then Landon snaps back and drives Drake facefirst into the canvas!

 

*BANG!*

 

“Crash Landon ‘05!” Mak shouts, “this could do it!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Drake kicks out, still having too much in the tank to bow out of his first World Title match so early! Landon’s face betrays his displeasure and he starts to get back to his feet, hauling Gabriel Drake after him.

 

“Landon Maddix must still want to get revenge from that vicious attack perpetrated by Drake after their cage match at Genesis,” Mak Francis muses.

 

“I think Drake might still want revenge for the loss,” King points out.

 

Drake’s instincts kick in and he makes a grab at one of Landon’s legs, seeking to lever the smaller man off his feet. However Landon knows that he doesn’t want to get into a mat-wrestling competition with Drake, and besides that The Beast is fairly groggy still; as a result Maddix is able to hammer a few forearm blows into Drake’s back and discourage him, then builds on his success by pushing his opponent into a standing head scissors. Landon prepares to jump into the air in order to give Drake’s neck an uncomfortable jarring…

 

…and realises that Bruce Blank is not only back on his feet, but in motion.

 

*SMACK!*

 

“LARIAT!” Mak yells, “Bruce nearly knocked Landon out of his boots with that one!”

 

Sure enough, the Redneck Superman flew in at the nick of time (for Gabriel Drake) and hammered Landon across the chest and jaw with a clothesline that seemed to reach an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound. Maddix doesn’t just go down but actually flies backwards from the impact, ending up landing rather uncomfortably on the back of his head, but to be fair this is likely to be a minor consideration after the force of the lariat. Meanwhile Gabriel Drake collapses down to his knees as the force holding him up disappears; moments later though, and The Beast is getting up, eyes fixed on his one vertical opponent. Bruce came to a stumbling halt at the ropes and grabs the top cable to try and steady himself, then turns around to see what’s going on…

 

…and, with a roar of effort, Gabriel Drake grabs the big man by the legs and hoists him into the air, then spins around 180 degrees and falls backwards to drape Blank throat-first across the top rope!

 

“Devil’s Reject,” Mak calls, “and Gabriel Drake could eliminate Bruce here!”

 

That seems to be the idea, certainly; Drake grabs a leg and rolls into the cover, trying to get as much weight as possible over his opponent’s shoulders…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Bruce kicks out, a lack of oxygen not being enough to keep him down! Drake snarls angrily, but sees another chance and simply rolls over to cover Maddix where he lies…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Maddix kicks out as well!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Gabriel Drake is considerably unimpressed, both by the result and the response. However he doesn’t let this slow him down and instead he grabs Landon’s left leg and starts hammering kicks into it, then tucks his head underneath Maddix’s knee and starts to try and turn La Cucaracha over onto his stomach… and the countdown clock appears.

 

“TEN!”

 

“NINE!”

 

“EIGHT!”

 

“SEVEN!”

 

“SIX!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“ONE!”

 

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT*

 

The strobe lights stop… on the cage containing Michael Stephens.

 

Tag Team Champion.

 

Defending Cruiserweight Champion.

 

Defending World Heavyweight Champion.

 

And Landon Maddix’s tag team partner.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“The Sensation is out!” Mak shouts as Red Herrington fumbles with the lock on Stephens’ door and finally releases it, freeing the Triple Champion to exit his plexiglass chamber and get stuck in, “Landon Maddix has got an ally again!”

 

“Only if Toxxic’s really stupid!” King fires back, “he should let Drake kick the shit out of Maddix!”

 

Sure enough, Gabriel Drake is trying to hook Landon into the Stretch Muffler Crab he calls the Spite & Malice and seems a little too preoccupied to notice which chamber has opened… but he finds out when a springboard dropkick connects with his back!

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“Idiot,” King sighs.

 

Michael Stephens pops back up to his feet only to see Bruce Blank lumbering towards him, so the World Champion leaps into the air again and hits a standing dropkick that sends the Redneck Superman stumbling backwards again. Drake is up as well, holding his back but advancing with bad intentions… and Stephens kips up from the canvas, then leaps into the air before the surprised Gabe can react and delivers a stunning enzuigiri to The Beast!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Drake drops to the mat, and by this point Landon is up again. The tag champion is favouring his leg but looks at his partner and nods in acknowledgement of the save, then points past Stephens to where Bruce Blank is advancing again. Blank extends both arms for a double clothesline but Maddix and Stephens duck under, then as the big man turns back around Maddix jabs him in the eyes and Stephens stamps on his toes, causing the Redneck Superman to howl in pain!

 

“Good teamwork,” Mak nods sagely.

 

“But why are they teaming?” Suicide King whines, “it’s every man for himself!”

 

“If they eliminate all other competitors they know that one of them will win the match,” Francis points out, “it’s not exactly in the spirit of the match, but Joe Peters has had it in for these two ever since Ground Zero - I’m not surprised if they want to stack the odds in their favour for a change!”

 

Bruce is wobbling and blinded, Drake temporarily incapacitated. Landon and Mike look at each other, then at a nearby turnbuckle… and both reach up to grab Bruce in a ¾ headlock before setting off at a run! Two pairs of boots run up the ringpost and kick off the top, allowing two bodies to flip back over and start to come down…

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Laberinto’s Sunny Revenge In England!” Mak shouts cheerfully as the back of Bruce’s skull is driven into the mat, “and this should be all for the biggest man in the match!” Stephens rolls away and indicates that Landon should make the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

-but Gabriel Drake breaks the pin up with a boot to the head!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“That’s strategic!” King points out as Stephens surges up from the mat a second too late to stop his old friend, “Drake knows he doesn’t want to be left alone in there with Two Skinny White Guys, he has to get them to divide their attention!”

 

Stephens’ rush took Drake slightly off-guard, and the World Champion starts laying in right hands without much answer from the unbalanced Georgian. Heartened by this, Stephens drops into a familiar routine and delivers a

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LEFT!

 

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LEFT!

 

 

Windup…

 

 

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE!

 

…but Gabe ducks under the clothesline and wraps his own arm across Stephens’ chest, then in what is virtually a carbon copy of a move that Landon did to him earlier he bends Stephens backwards before suddenly reversing direction and tumbling backwards to drive the World Champion’s face into the canvas!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“Drake calls that the Brute-Force Trauma,” Francis notes, “a different name to the Crash Landon ‘05, but just as effective!”

 

“Hell, Landon stole a load of moves from Toxxic,” King says, “no reason why he shouldn’t have stolen one from Toxxic’s old training partner.”

 

Speaking of Landon, the man who got kicked in the head by Drake scant seconds ago is now getting up, rubbing the back of his skull and with an intention of exacting revenge on the culprit. He rushes Drake, who stands his ground and swings for the Tag Champion…

 

…but Landon ducks under and runs for the far ropes, rebounding as Drake’s momentum carries him unsteadily round…

 

…and Maddix leaps into the air to his a flying forearm to the face that floors the bigger man!

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON!”

 

“LET’S GO LAN-DON!”

 

The faint hint of a grin has started to return to La Cucaracha’s face, and he heads for the turnbuckles again; however, rather than running up it with Bruce Blank in tow he climbs swiftly to the top and stands up, spreads his arms wide, then leaps off looking for the Swandive Headbutt!

 

*BANG!*

 

…but he can go on looking, because Drake rolled away at the last moment!

 

“Great, four men in the ring and all of them down,” King comments, “this sure is thrill-a-minute stuff.”

 

But the Gambling Man may have uttered his sarcasm too soon, as Gabriel Drake isn’t just rolling away from the impact but rolling back to his feet as well. Landon is getting up, trying to refocus after hitting the canvas hard with his head without any gain to show for it… and Drake ducks his head before taking Maddix up into a Fireman’s Carry. It’s the work of a couple of moments for The Beast to swing the groggy cruiserweight around on his back into a cradle position. Drake reaches up to grab Maddix’s head for the Mark of the Beast…

 

…and Landon digs his fingers into Drake’s eyes!

 

‘YAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!’

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Maddix drops off Drake’s back as the bigger man reaches up protectively towards his face, then grabs a reverse headlock and bends Gabe’s body backwards before extending his right arm ready for the Landon Eye… but Drake manages to twist around into a front facelock and fires off one, two, three punches to the ribs. He then turns his body sideways and brings Maddix up into another Fireman’s Carry, and this time there is nothing the winded Tag Champion can do as Drake swings him off and round into the cradle…

 

*BANG!*

 

“Mark of the Beast!” Mak shouts, “that could be all for Landon!”

 

Gabriel Drake leans into the cover as Michael Stephens, still dazed from the Brute-Force Trauma, looks up and around…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

Stephens struggles to his knees and lurches to try and make the save…

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

…too late.

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Landon Maddix has been eliminated!” Funyon booms over a chorus of boos from the crowd.

 

“YES!” King shouts joyfully as Stephens collides with Gabriel Drake and knocks him off the cover a split-second after it could do Landon any good. Drake turns to fight even as Bruce, head abused by his fellow competitors as well as alcohol is starting to stir in the corner following Laberinto’s Sunny Revenge In England. Meanwhile Matthew Kivell starts trying to rolls Landon towards the door of the chamber while still keeping an eye on the match. Referees Red Herrington and Brian Warner, their door duty now discharged, hurry in to help the SWF’s senior official while Aecas and Janus observe silently from outside, their presence not required unless a wrestler actively refuses to leave.

 

“The World Champion is now on his own in the Chamber,” Mak Francis points out, “and Landon Maddix’s hopes of becoming three-time World Champion are over, at least for tonight!”

 

“Toxxic’s only ‘on his own’ in the sense of not having any friends in there,” King argues, “he’s still got Bruce and Drake to deal with!”

 

Megan Skye receives Landon at the door of the Chamber, sliding an arm underneath her client’s shoulder to support the dazed Cockroach. Meanwhile Bruce wades into the fight in the middle of the ring as Stephens and Drake struggle to land punches on each other, and adds his own input to proceedings by first kicking each one in the head, then starting to stomp on them in turn!

 

“So King, do you think that Bruce is too drunk to figure out that he can just leave his opponents to kill each other without getting involved, or too stupid?” Mak asks conversationally.

 

“Bruce was a fighting Ultraviolent Champion and a fighting International Champion,” King replies stoutly, “he won’t want to win the World Title except by fighting!”

 

“…so too drunk then?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

However, Bruce is finding all this stomping a little difficult as it’s not easy for a drunken 300lber to keep his balance; as a result he leans down and grabs Gabriel Drake by the hair and drags The Beast up, then rears back and lashes out with a right-handed haymaker. Unfortunately for the Redneck Superman Drake is still savvy enough to duck despite the battering his ribcage has just taken at the boots of the big man, and the punch sails harmlessly overhead. Drake responds in kind with a shot that spins Blank around on his axis… right into a dropkick from Michael Stephens! Bruce staggers again, the impact causing him to turn so he faces Gabriel Drake again… and Gabe pastes him with another right to the jaw! Bruce staggers, turns… and catches a gamengiri from Stephens!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Bruce staggers in another half-circle, clutching his face, but Gabriel Drake is an impatient man and The Beast turns and runs for the ropes. He rebounds at full tilt and extends his arm for his devastating Shotgun Lariat…

 

*SMACK!*

 

…that hits at exactly the same time as Michael Stephens, who has just got up speed off the ropes on the other side of Bruce, slices the big man’s legs out from under him with a soccer tackle from behind!

 

“That’s a version of the Professional Foul,” Mak blinks, “normally performed by Stephens and Maddix!”

 

“Far better when Drake’s involved,” King nods approvingly.

 

Stephens and Drake look up from where they’ve both ended up on the mat, both clearly surprised that the other man took action that complimented his own, and hazel and grey eyes lock briefly. Then they both look down at Bruce, back up at each other… and instead of leaping to attack each other, they each grab an arm of the big man and start to drag him up to his feet. The crowd seem unsure of what’s going on but decide to cheer on general principle, and the two smaller men start to Irish whip Bruce into the ropes. The moment the big man is on his way Stephens slaps Drake on the shoulder and shouts ‘Go!’, pointing to the ropes at right angles from where they’ve sent Bruce, but The Beast is already running. The dazed Blank lumbers back on the rebound and Stephens goes to the mat, wrapping his legs around Bruce’s and taking the big man over with a drop toehold…

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

…and with split-second timing, Gabriel Drake comes back off the ropes in time to slam a kneelift into the side of Blank’s head as the big man is in mid-fall!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“They’ve definitely done that before!” Mak exclaims in astonishment, “I think we might have just seen something Stephens and Drake came up with while they were in training years ago!”

 

But nostalgia can be dangerous; Stephens is grinning faintly as he gets up off the mat, perhaps for a moment transported back to a time where he and Gabe still got on. On the other hand, Drake’s moment of co-operation has ended and with Bruce playing no further part in the match for the moment The Beast is clear to concentrate on his main objective; inflicting pain on Michael Stephens. As a result, no sooner has Stephens got back to his feet then Drake lunges in and hoists him up, then twists and drives him down-

 

*BANG!*

 

-with a devastating snap spinebuster!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Gabe scrambles into the cover, clearly eager to be the one to eliminate his former friend…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Stephens kicks out! Drake swears angrily at Matthew Kivell, then grabs Stephens by the head and hauls the Englishman upright. He takes hold of Stephens wrist and Irish whips the smaller man towards the corner; in normal circumstances the World Champion might have pulled a Role Reversal out, but with no breath in his body he can do nothing but slam into the turnbuckles backfirst. Drake follows him in a moment later and jumps to deliver a stunning knee to the head, then lands back on the mat and begins firing rapid knife-edge chops into Stephens’ chest!

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

[Chuck Woolery 0]

The crowd express their displeasure but Gabriel Drake couldn’t care less; he roars in triumph as Stephens slumps in the corner, then hooks his old friend up as if for a vertical suplex before lifting Mike up and sitting him on the top buckle. Then he starts to climb, re-establishing his hold as he gets to the second buckle, but not stopping there and instead placing first one foot on the top rope, then the other…

 

“I think Gabriel Drake could be about to go for a superplex here,” Mak Francis surmises as The Beast starts to drag Stephens up into a standing position, “this is risky, one slip and it could all go horribly wrong…”

 

Gabe seems about to arch backwards and haul Michael Stephens off the top and down to the canvas far below, but Stephens has finally got some semblance of strength back and manages to fire a right hand into his enemy’s ribs. Drake jolts, nearly loses his balance and sways, and Stephens takes this opportunity to straighten up a little and wrap both arms around Gabe’s torso as if performing a bizarre side-on bearhug.

 

Then he simply steps out into thin air, dragging Drake down with him.

 

*WHAM!!*

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“SIDE EFFECT OFF THE TOP ROPE!” Mak Francis bawls as both men writhe in agony on the canvas, “Michael Stephens just countered that superplex attempt… but good God King, he might have just incapacitated himself in the process!”

 

“That’s a spot-monkey for you!” King shouts back, “Toxxic doesn’t think ahead, he doesn’t plan for the rest of the match, he just goes and does something crazy to make the humanoids cheer and screw the consequences! Well this time it’ll come back to bite him in the ass, because there’s three other top-class competitors in that Chamber! And Zyon,” he admits reluctantly.

 

Speaking of which…

 

“TEN!”

 

“NINE!”

 

“EIGHT!”

 

“SEVEN!”

 

“SIX!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“ONE!”

 

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT*

 

The strobes still flicker over all four cages, even though only two still have occupants… and finally come to rest on one.

 

The one containing the Unique Youth.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Zyon’s coming into the match with all three of his current competitors down,” Mak notes as Anthony Michael Hall slides back the door and Zyon dashes out, “he’s got a chance to get a real advantage here and maybe eliminate a couple of them, but this means that Spike Jenkins will come out last and be the freshest man in the match. King, a prediction please now that we know the exact entry order?”

 

“I predict Landon Maddix is going to cry himself to sleep tonight,” the Gambling Man smirks.

 

Zyon wastes no time - the Unique Youth vaults straight up onto the ringpost that’s in front of his cage, then turns around to face out towards the crowd (well, he would if that plexiglass mini-chamber wasn’t in the way). This is only for a moment however, as the man from Indiana then backflips off the top rope…

 

*BANG!*

 

…to come down with a moonsault on both Gabriel Drake and Michael Stephens as they lie on the mat next to each other!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Matthew Kivell isn’t quite sure what to do, but gets as good a view as he can and drops to count with BOTH hands…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Stephens and Drake both kick out within a millisecond of each other!

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

The Unique Youth gets up off the mat (a little winded, but otherwise fine) and turns to see Bruce Blank getting back to his feet as well, holding his aching head and probably wishing he was somewhere with some alka-seltzer away from the ring. Zyon aims to help the big man in a small way by running at him and nailing a dropkick to the side of the head with Blank still doubled over, sending the Alabaman tumbling through the top and middle ropes and onto the steel platform outside the squared circle! Bruce however is a hard man to keep down, and he stubbornly starts pushing himself back up again. Zyon gets back to his feet and isn’t discouraged by what he sees; he’s no stranger to going over the rope to the outside, and although on this occasion his target is still standing on the same level as him, that’s not necessarily a problem. All you need is a bit more height to start off with… and you can get that by jumping to the top rope, balancing there for half a second, then springboarding off to paste the Redneck Superman in the head with a ‘Superman’ flying forearm!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Bruce slumps back, hitting his head on the chains that make up the main walls of the Elimination Chamber. Zyon quickly grabs the big man’s arm and drags him around until both shoulders touch the steel decking, then makes a cover as Kivell scrambles through the ropes to officiate…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“I’m tempted to agree with the crowd,” Mak Francis admits, “that looked mighty close to me!”

 

“Pah,” King snorts, “anyone with half a brain could see that there’s no way Zyon will eliminate Bruce Blank.”

 

“However, those of us with all of a brain are prepared to entertain the possibility.”

 

In the middle of the ring, Michael Stephens and Gabriel Drake are starting to stir again after Zyon interrupted their last attempts at convalescence. Each man is looking distinctly battered, but it is Drake who first makes an offensive move; granted it’s only to grab a front facelock on his former friend as they both struggle up to their knees, but it’s enough to keep the World Champion under control for now. Drake puffs out his cheeks, sucking in oxygen as he tries to get back into top gear again; meanwhile Zyon has given up trying to lift Bruce Blank back to his feet, and is instead climbing up the wall of the Chamber itself!

 

“He’s mad,” King says, shaking his head.

 

Drake seems to think he’s up to the task now and starts to hoist Stephens up to a vertical base, then grabs a double underhook in preparation for a Butterfly suplex. However, the movement at the side of the Chamber catches his eye and he looks around…

 

…in time to see Zyon swing his body out and drop straight down towards Bruce with a variation on the Cannonball Kamikaze, only to have the Redneck Superman roll out of the way at the last second and the Unique Youth crash into the steel knees first!

 

*CLANG!*

 

“That’s not good news for Zyon!” Mak Francis exclaims in horror, “he could have broken something there! At the least, it’s going to limit his mobility for a good while!”

 

Oh, it’s going to do a lot more than that. Gabriel Drake sees his chance, and knows he has to move quickly if he’s to capitalise while the new livewire addition to the match is vulnerable. Instead of expending energy hoisting Stephens up and over with the suplex he just drives a knee into his old friend’s gut, then drops the World Champion to the mat and heads over towards Zyon. Bruce is still holding his head and is just rolling under the bottom rope back into the ring, so there’s no other distractions as Drake steps through the ropes and grabs Zyon by the leg, then twists the traumatised limb over his head and sits down into the Spite & Malice!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Can Zyon hold on?” Mak yells, “can he escape? There’s no rope breaks, no-one has any reason to save him! If his leg wasn’t seriously damaged by that fall, Gabriel Drake is seeking to rectify that now!”

 

Zyon is yelling in pain and reaching out for whatever he can find, but even if he could get to the ropes they’re of no use to him, as Mak Francis just pointed out. There are no weapons lying around to grab and hit Drake with, even if he could find a way to twist his body enough to do so. All he can do is hang on and pray for the very unlikely chance that Drake will give up on the hold before the pain becomes too much to bear…

 

…and suddenly, unexpectedly, Drake does loosen his grip. Zyon rolls around onto his back in surprise, trying to see where the next attack is going to come from…

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Gabriel Drake isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking out of the Chamber, into the (now very limited) ringside area. The fans are cheering for a reason, and that reason is that Landon Maddix has reappeared!

 

“He’s eliminated!” King shouts, “get him out of here!”

 

Drake just seems amused at the fact that the man he eliminated has come back to fume impotently, and even has the breath to laugh at the infuriated La Cucaracha. A couple of referees move to intercept Landon, who is pointing and shouting at Drake…

 

…and suddenly Maddix lunges and grabs a large soft drink from someone in the crowd, then hurls it at The Beast!

 

*splooosh*

 

Gabe gets soaked, catching it full in the face. He raises his hands to his eyes to wipe them clear…

 

*CHING!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

…and Zyon makes his move. With Drake still dripping PepsiMax the Unique Youth slams his forearm up between The Beast’s legs from behind, then uses that same arm to bring Drake over into a schoolboy pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Gabriel Drake has been eliminated!” Funyon declares as Landon punches the air in delight, then exchanges a high-five with the fan whose drink he stole before Red Herrington and Anthony Michael Hall move to usher La Cucaracha away.

 

“FOUL!” King bawls, “that’s not fair! Maddix was eliminated! That pinfall doesn’t stand, it doesn’t stand!”

 

“It does stand I’m afraid King,” Mak Francis corrects him, “and notably, it is the first pinfall that Gabriel Drake has ever suffered since joining the SWF at Ground Zero this year!”

 

“What, and it comes to Zyon!? Come on Mak, even you must see that’s a fluke of epic proportions!” the Gambling Man splutters.

 

“Once you step in that Chamber, all bets are off,” Francis says, “I’m not sure if I’d put money on Zyon getting the duke over Drake in a singles bout, but in an environment like this, anything can happen!”

 

Gabriel Drake was lost in his own small world of pain, but now the full impact of what has happened seems to have dawned on The Beast. Not only has he now been pinned for the first time in the SWF - indeed, for the first time in his pro-wrestling career - but the man he holds responsible was the man who handed him his first ever defeat… a man who was supposedly eliminated from the match. Snarling, Drake rounds on Matthew Kivell and advances towards the referee, who retreats while simultaneously directing Gabe towards the exit of the Chamber. When that doesn’t work Kivell simply heads for it, hoping the sight of the open door might jog Drake’s memory… or that maybe the sight of Janus and Aecas will.

 

“I hope Gabriel Drake decides to leave the Chamber soon,” Mak Francis says, “otherwise I think Janus and Aecas might… too late.”

 

Sure enough The Colossi appear to have decided that enough is enough, and both giant start to move towards the door of the chamber to remove Gabriel Drake, by force if necessary. However they are forestalled as they see a familiar figure running up behind The Beast…

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

…and Michael Stephens delivers a dropkick to Gabriel Drake’s back, catching his former friend unawares and toppling him over the top rope onto the steel platform by the door! Janus and Aecas calmly reach in and grab a leg each, then haul Drake out and the referees shut the Chamber door again. Gabriel seems about to let fly at the Colossi but it seems that even The Beast’s relentless anger knows when it is outmatched, and with a feral snarl Drake turns and heads off in pursuit of Landon Maddix. La Cucaracha has disappeared but there’s only one place he could have gone, and Drake storms up the entrance ramp towards the backstage area.

 

“I hope you find him Gabe,” King shouts after the departing Georgian.

 

However, with Drake now out of the equation there are only three competitors currently active in the Elimination Chamber. Bruce Blank has obviously been in the longest and the battle has taken its toll on the big Alabaman; with a never-ending selection of opponents to hit him in the head the Redneck Superman is currently back to a half-upright base and clinging onto the ropes with one arm while Zyon, favouring one leg but otherwise in pretty good condition, is trying desperately but futilely to Irish whip the big man across the ring. Meanwhile Michael Stephens is picking himself up again after the dropkick that cleared Drake from the Chamber, and the World Champion starts to cautiously head towards the other two competitors.

 

“Will Stephens get involved?” Mak Francis asks, “and if so, who will he go for first? Bruce has taken more abuse tonight and might be finished off quicker, but will Stephens treat Zyon as the fresher threat and therefore a greater priority to deal with?”

 

Apparently not. Stephens picks up speed and launches himself into the air, crashing into Bruce with what is possibly an elbow smash to the head but seems more likely to just be a body splash. Zyon’s grip is knocked loose, but a moment later Stephens is next to him and helping, and between them they get the big man moving across the ring. A word is exchanged between Stephens and Zyon and the two men duck down as Bruce approaches, then each grab a leg and straighten up before falling backwards to bring Blank down with a flapjack!

 

*BANG!*

 

Zyon and Stephens pick themselves up… and Zyon boots the World Champion in the gut, then hooks him as if for a Fisherman’s Suplex before spinning sideways into a Fisherman’s neckbreaker. The Unique Youth holds the bridge…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Stephens kicks out!

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“There’s no teamwork in the Elimination Chamber,” Mak Francis exclaims, “not for long, at any rate! Everyone in there knows they need to be the last man, and if you’ve got to jump someone from behind or figuratively stab them in the back to do it, that’s what it takes sometimes!”

 

“Yeah, but note that it’s Toxxic who’s been involved in all the teaming so far,” King says, “with Maddix, with Drake, with Zyon… clearly our World Champion knows that he can’t get the job done on his own, so he joins forces with anyone he can!”

 

Zyon seems disappointed that he didn’t get the pinfall on Stephens that would not only have eliminated the World Champion from the running, but would also have won him the Cruiserweight Title no matter what the end result of the Elimination Chamber. However the Unique Youth is nothing if not persistent and instead of trying to drag Stephens up to his feet again he instead grabs hold of the Englishman’s left arm to tuck it between his legs, then reaches forward to wrap his arms around Stephens’ head!

 

“Gouki Crossface!” Mak shouts as the crowd comes alive again, some shouting in support of Zyon and some in support of Stephens, “Zyon’s going to try and make Michael Stephens tap out!”

 

However, Zyon’s technical ability was never the greatest. Stephens gets his right arm up to block and prevents Zyon from cinching the crossface in as well as he’d like, then quickly pushes himself up before tucking his head in and rolling forwards. Zyon finds his opponent sliding out of his grasp and leans forward to try and regain his hold, but as Stephens rolls he manages to reach back with his right hand and grab hold of Zyon’s leg, using his previously trapped left arm to cement the grip. In less than a second Zyon finds himself on his front with his legs controlled, and Michael Stephens crossing one of his legs into the crook of the other to set up the Regal Stretch!

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

Zyon tries to kick, but can’t get enough power to jerk his legs free. Stephens locks them in place with his own legs and reaches forwards to try for the ¾ nelson that completes the hold, but Zyon has no intention of letting him get away with that and fires off one, two, three back elbows to Stephens’ head and causing the World Champion to roll off him, releasing the Unique Youth’s legs as he does so. Zyon doesn’t follow up immediately, instead choosing to grab his hurt left leg and try to massage some life back into it…

 

…and it’s that time again.

 

“TEN!”

 

“NINE!”

 

“EIGHT!”

 

“SEVEN!”

 

“SIX!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“ONE!”

 

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT*

 

The lights still strobe, but there’s no longer any doubt as to who is going to be released next. There is only one competitor left to emerge, and that competitor has just been released by Nick Soapdish.

 

‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Jenkins erupts out of his cage and scrambles through the ropes, clearly wanting to capitalise while all his opponents are in trouble. Bruce is just getting up again, but he’s only on his knees and Spike immediately launches into his signature kick combination. One to the chest…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…a second to the chest…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…and then, as Bruce grabs at said chest and gasps for air, Spike backs off, slams both hands into the mat and yells, then fires the last kick straight at Bruce’s head…

 

*whap*

 

…and Bruce catches it! The big man is battered and still drunk, but instincts kick in and he blocks the blow with two massive hands, then fastens them around Jenkins’ limb to prevent the Hollywood Superstar from getting away. Any form of devastating follow-up seems to be beyond Bruce at the moment however, and he simply shoves Spike’s leg away to try and give himself more time to recuperate. Jenkins topples backwards, unbalanced, but he rolls back up to his feet and as Bruce manages to regain a vertical base Spike charges at him and delivers a lariat!

 

“What power in that lariat from Jenkins,” Mak gasps, “but Bruce didn’t go down!”

 

Not quite. The big man is rocking very unsteadily, but he’s still on two feet. Spike growls in frustration and heads for the ropes, bouncing off to return at full speed and deliver a jumping Yakuza Kick to the Redneck Superman, and this does take Bruce off his feet! Spike instantly drops to cover and Kivell begins the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Bruce kicks out! Spike doesn’t waste any time on disappointment, instead focusing on Zyon whom he can see in front of him. Jenkins scrambles towards his former tag team partner and grabs him in a double underhook as Zyon tries to get up to his feet, then the Hollywood Superstar hoists him up and over to deliver a butterfly suplex.

 

*BANG!*

 

From there Spike gets back to his feet, then simply jumps up and delivers a double stomp to Zyon’s chest!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Zyon curls up into a foetal position in an instinctive attempt to protect his ribs, and Spike now looks around to see possibly his greatest enemy, the man who took him under his wing and made him part of the most dominant stable in recent years in the SWF, the man who ultimately kicked him out of that stable, and the man who recently defeated him to retain the SWF Cruiserweight Title.

 

With a yell Spike runs at Michael Stephens as the Sensation gets up to one knee. Stephens instinctively raises both hands in front of his face to protect himself…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…which does absolutely nothing, as Spike connects with the Dangerous Wizard and kicks his former mentor in the back of the head!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Jenkins makes the cover and Kivell dives down to make another count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Stephens kicks out, denying Jenkins another elimination chance! Spike isn’t going to take this lying down (even if he is lying across Stephens in a pinning position) and grabs the World Champion by the hair, then starts dragging him to his feet. He places Stephens in a standing headscissors, then hoists him upright…

 

…steps over one arm…

 

…steps over the other arm…

 

“He’s about to hit the Ratings Crash!” Mak yells.

 

Yup.

 

*BANG!*

 

All Spike has to do now is roll over and bring Stephens onto his back for the three-count that will surely ensue…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

-broken up by Zyon!?

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“WHAT!?” Francis yells, “I know Zyon hates Spike, but why- wait… Zyon must want to win the Cruiserweight Title for himself!”

 

“You stupid idiot!” King snaps, “why didn’t you let Spike get rid of him?”

 

Spike’s face shows confusion with the pain as he rolls back from the basement dropkick that Zyon delivered in his desperate attempt to stop the pin. However, Francis’s speculations on the Unique Youth’s motivation becomes clear as he covers Stephens’ prone form himself…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Spike breaks it up with a lunging forearm smash to the head!

 

“Well now, this is interesting,” The Franchise says, “it looks like one of Joe Peters’ little devices for making Michael Stephens’ life even more miserable might be backfiring; with both Spike and Zyon wanting the guaranteed Cruiserweight Title no matter what happens in the rest of the match, they’ve actually stopped each other from eliminating Stephens!”

 

Zyon and Spike are now exchanging right hands while on their knees, each one struggling up to try and get a better angle; meanwhile Michael Stephens has just enough presence of mind to roll away from the battling former tag team partners, and under the bottom rope to the outside. Unfortunately for Stephens it’s not a case of out of sight, out of mind in this match because the steel decking around the ring is on the same height as the ring itself, and someone’s noticed him. Bruce Blank is back up on his feet, wobbling unsteadily but still able to move… and the big man steps over the top rope and heads for the World Champion.

 

“They’ve split off into pairs now,” Francis notes as Spike nails Zyon with a particularly hard forearm smash, “Spike seems to be getting the upper hand on Zyon at the moment…”

 

Sure enough, Zyon has no reply to Spike’s latest strike and the Hollywood Superstar slips around behind the man from Elkhart, Indiana and grabs a rear waistlock. Zyon struggles against it but his strength lies in slippery evasion rather than wrestling out once caught in a hold, and he can do little except prise at Jenkins’ hands as the Hollywood Superstar hoists him up to his feet. Spike plants his feet firmly and takes a deep breath… then bridges backwards, driving Zyon’s head and shoulders into the mat with a German suplex, and holding the bridge for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Zyon kicks out, still relatively fresh! Meanwhile on the other side (and indeed outside) of the ring Bruce Blank grabs Michael Stephens and drags him up to his feet, then stands facing the same way as the Englishman and wraps his leg around Stephens’…

 

*BANG!*

 

“Russian leg sweep on the steel!” Mak says, wincing, “that’s going to hurt!”

 

“C’mon Bruce, cover him!” King urges, but it seems that the impact has hurt Blank as well. It takes the Redneck Superman a loooooooooong couple of seconds before he can roll over and drape a big arm across Stephens’ chest, prompting Matthew Kivell to hurry over from where he’s been keeping an eye on Spike and Zyon to make the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHH-

-but Stephens kicks out!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Spike has dragged Zyon up again and grabs hold of his opponent’s wrist, then Irish whips the younger man into the corner of the ring. However, Zyon manages to leap to the top rope, then corkscrews back off with the No Regard to take Spike down in the middle of the ring!

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

Matthew Kivell skips back through the ropes into the ring as Zyon manages to rolls over and make a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Spike kicks out!

 

“It’s going to take more than that to put Spike Jenkins down at the moment,” Mak says (not without a little distaste, given his whole overriding hatred for the Hollywood Superstar), “he’s the freshest man in the ring.”

 

It’s going to take more? That’s fine by Zyon, who grabs Spike and hauls his former tag partner upright, then bends his knees to take him up on his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. On the other side of the Chamber Bruce has realised that the Russian leg sweep didn’t actually get the job done against Stephens and so starts bringing the World Champion (slowly) up to his feet, but the Unique Youth is concentrating on getting ready to throw Spike up into the air before dropping backwards and raising his knees for his signature gutbuster… but Spike starts slamming knees into Zyon’s head! The Unique Youth staggers and Jenkins slides around and off behind Zyon, then simply shoves his former tag partner into the turnbuckles. Zyon hits hard, chest-first, and without enough air to do much else simply slumps against them.

 

Meanwhile Bruce has Stephens by the hair and is taking the World Champion on a tour of the top ring rope by rubbing his eyes down the whole length! Stephens is blinded, but Bruce doesn’t let up and rams his head into the Plexiglass chamber that once held Gabriel Drake-

 

*BANG!*

 

-then for good measure, into the chains that form the wall of the main Chamber! Stephens drops backwards, a trickle of blood now emanating from his forehead, and Bruce drops to make the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOBROKENUPBYSPIKEJENKINS~!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd seem to be cheering on the basis that Stephens is still in the match rather than as a result of who did the saving, but sure enough a Spike Jenkins boot stuck through the ring ropes and hitting Bruce in the head knocked the Redneck Superman enough to break the pin! Blank looks up with rage and incomprehension in his eyes, presumably not understanding that Spike evidently wants the chance to pin Stephens himself and win the Cruiserweight Title again. As a result the big Alabaman surges up to his feet and lunges for Jenkins… who drops down and pulls the top rope with him, causing Bruce to sprawl over it into the ring!

 

“Look, Toxxic should be out of this match,” King says flatly, “why don’t these guys realise that?”

 

“I think Joe Peters might have outwitted himself here,” Mak Francis speculates, “I’m not saying that Stephens will win, but I think he’s got a better chance than he was supposed to!”

 

Jenkins sets on Blank the moment the big man comes crashing down, and starts firing clubbing forearms into his back. Unfortunately for Spike, for all his striking ability he simply doesn’t have the strength to get in a fistfight with Bruce, no matter how battered and drunk the Redneck Superman may be.

 

Mind you, Bruce gets the upper hand by poking Spike in the eyes, but the principle still applies.

 

“This is still wide open,” Mak says, “Bruce has been in since the start, but the big man has such a size advantage over his opponents it’ll be hard to eliminate him.”

 

“Spike still has the best chance,” King argues, “freshness is everything in a match like this.”

 

Bruce seems to have found some sort of second wind, and surges up from the kneeling position where he poked Spike in the eyes and delivers a massive boot to the head that sends Jenkins sprawling. He turns around to find Zyon only to find the Unique Youth already launching himself at him…

 

*BANG!*

 

…but Bruce simply lariats him out of the air!

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

A small but audible chant goes up at that demonstration of raw strength on the part of the former International Champion, not that Bruce notices or cares. He looks for his third opponent and sees Stephens struggling upright, trying to wipe the blood from his head. Bruce heads towards him and reaches out with one massive paw to grab the Englishman, but Stephens manages to get hold of Bruce’s head and simply falls backwards, guillotining the big man’s throat across the top rope!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Cheat!” King yells, pointing an accusatory finger.

 

Bruce staggers away only to turn into a Spike Jenkins elbow smash. It doesn’t do a great deal, but Spike has another trick up his sleeve; namely backing off a couple of paces, winding up and then delivering a rolling elbow smash to the jaw!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Bruce staggers… wobbles… doesn’t go down…

 

‘Again!’ Michael Stephens shouts from where he’s pulling himself up on the ropes. The same idea seems to have struck Spike and he backs off, winds up and-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-Bruce drops!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Zyon is back up down, holding his head, and turns around to react violently when Spike lays hands on him. However, the Hollywood Superstar simply points upwards… and when Zyon’s eyes light on the fallen Bruce Blank the Unique Youth understands. He turns and climbs to the top buckle, spreads his arms to signal for the Final Flash…

 

…but he doesn’t dive off.

 

“What’s he doing?” Francis asks in confusion.

 

Spike seems to have the same question, yelling at his former tag team partner and current enemy. However Zyon turns around and reaches upwards, grabbing onto the top of the Plexiglass chamber that he emerged from originally, and hauls himself up onto it. Then he turns around, stands up straight…

 

…and spreads his arms.

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

Zyon surveys the ring. Everything looks so small from up here. The fans are on their feet in anticipation, camera flashes already going off all around the Pyongyang Arena. Michael Stephens is leaning on the ropes, making urgent motions to suggest that Zyon stop wasting time and get on with it, and Spike…

 

…could that possibly be just the smallest hint of admiration on Spike Jenkins’ face?

 

Zyon shrugs.

 

Zyon leaps.

 

The entire arena explodes into an actinic apocalypse of white as every camera in the building captures the moment for posterity.

 

*BANG!!*

 

“RAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“FIIIIIIIINNNNAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL FLAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHH!” Mak Francis hollers at the top of his lungs, “that’s it! Bruce is done!”

 

Zyon lies on his back on the canvas from where he bounced, literally bounced after crushing Bruce Blank’s ribcage beneath his body. But there’s still one thing left to do, and the Unique Youth wearily turns and crawls towards Bruce to make the cover…

 

*CRACK!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

…and Spike Jenkins jumps up and double-stomps Zyon, coming down on his former tag team partner’s back. The impact isn’t anything like the Final Flash that Zyon just delivered to Bruce, but Zyon suffered for that landing as well. The winding shot from Spike is enough to halt him in his tracks, one arm still outstretched towards the Redneck Superman…

 

…and Zyon can only watch as a smirking Spike Jenkins sprawls on top of Bruce to make the cover, looking back at his former partner and not even bothering to hook the leg. Bruce isn’t going anywhere.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

“Bruce Blank has been eliminated!” Funyon thunders as the crowd noise rockets to nearly off the scale; most of them are glad that Bruce has gone, but most of them are also infuriated that Spike stole Zyon’s pin.

 

“What a cheap pin from Spike,” Mak hisses, not pleased himself, “we all know the truth, but in the record books it will go down as Spike Jenkins pinning Bruce Blank tonight!”

 

“Hey, Spike knocked Bruce down in the first place,” King retorts, “Zyon wouldn’t have been able to do his Super-Stupid Move if Bruce hadn’t been on his back! As ever the wrestlers who do solid groundwork are unappreciated, and the flashy good-for-nothings are canonised!”

 

Bruce starts to roll, dimly trying to get away from the pain. Wayne Blank comes to the open door of the Chamber (not without a nervous glance at the towering forms of Janus and Aecas) and calls to his brother, trying to get Bruce to roll towards his voice and save him any trouble from the Colossi (neither of whom have any reason to be kindly disposed towards the Redneck Superman, and who might possibly be slightly harsh in their judgements of how long he takes to leave). Zyon is still coughing, struggling to breathe; Spike doesn’t seem in a sympathetic mood and starts to pick the Unique Youth up, then delivers a stunning palm strike to the head. Zyon wavers and Jenkins slaps his right arm a couple of times, then turns and runs for the ropes. He rebounds and accelerates towards Zyon with his right arm outstretched…

 

*WHAM!*

 

…and delivers a lariat that takes Zyon down with authority! Spike dives on top for the cover that will bring it down to just him and the reigning World Champion…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOBROKENUPBYMICHAELSTEPHENS?!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“WHAT!?” Mak yells, now completely confused as Stephens comes out of nowhere at the last minute to slam a basement dropkick into Spike Jenkins’ head and knock him off the cover, “why would Stephens do that? He has no reason to want Zyon to stay in this match!”

 

“Except that Spike is on the ascendancy, and Stephens is scared!” King shouts back. “He doesn’t want to be left alone with Jenkins!”

 

Whether or not the Gambling Man is on the money with his assessment, the fact remains that Zyon is still in the match. More than that, Michael Stephens scrambles up to his feet next to the Unique Youth, looks down into Zyon’s eyes…

 

…and offers him his hand.

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

The chants ring out around the arena as the dazed Zyon clasps hands with the black-nailed fingers of the World Champion, and Stephens hauls Zyon up to his feet! Spike Jenkins is also getting up, but the Hollywood Superstar’s eyes bulge when he sees his two opponents standing side by side; he looks around for a possible distraction but he’s just eliminated the fourth man in the match, and as Jenkins searches for a way out Zyon and Stephens rush him, hammering right hands onto the luckless Californian!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The barrage doesn’t last long; just long enough to break down Spike’s defences. Then Stephens and Zyon each take a wrist and Irish whip Spike across the ring; on his return trip, they both jump up and nail him with a double dropkick…

 

…then from somewhere, each man finds the energy to kip up!

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

The crowd seem equally split in their support for the two men, but Stephens and Zyon don’t wait around to soak in the cheers. Instead they approach Spike again - not without a cautious glance at each other - and bring him upright, then each man hooks him for a vertical suplex. However, when they hoist the Hollywood Superstar up they don’t just fall backwards; instead they let Spike touch down again behind them, then kick their legs out to bring him down with a vicious double Hangman’s neckbreaker!

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“Every man for himself!” King screeches, “what part of that don’t you morons understand!? Francis, they’re going completely against the spirit of this match!”

 

“The spirit of this match is what you make it,” Mak argues, “if Zyon and Stephens can get along, more power to them!”

 

Spike seems in a bad way; Stephens isn’t running at full power either, the match having drained him more than the other two due to the length of time he’s been competing, and the blood he’s lost - not much, but any is too much in this situation - probably doesn’t help either. Meanwhile Zyon is the first to his feet, and reaches down to offer his hand to Stephens this time! The World Champion accepts it with a grin and the Unique Youth hauls him up, then a brief discussion takes place. It ends with Stephens heading for the turnbuckles while Zyon grabs Spike’s legs as if about to turn him over for a Boston Crab, but then he bends down and gets a firmer grip on Jenkins’ body before raising him off the mat. Stephens climbs to the top rope and Zyon holds Spike horizontal above the mat…

 

…and Michael Stephens comes off the top rope with the Hangover!

 

*BANG!*

 

“That’s got to be it!” Mak Francis yells, “it’s either Zyon or Stephens walking out of here with all the gold tonight!”

 

Zyon wants to make sure, and covers his former tag partner…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“YES!” King shouts gleefully, “he’s still in there! Spike Jenkins is still in this match, Franchise!”

 

Sure enough, Spike just got one shoulder up after the Extremely Bad Hangover. Zyon looks shocked; Stephens was already celebrating his old enemy’s departure, and looked around in complete surprise when he didn’t hear the final count. Shaking his head in bewilderment, the World Champion beckons Zyon over and the two men put their heads together for a quick discussion.

 

Meanwhile, Spike Jenkins slowly starts to stir.

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO ZY-ON!”

 

“It’s good strategy from Stephens and Zyon,” Francis admits, “by taking Spike out of the equation they guarantee themselves a fifty percent chance of walking out of here a winner. It’s a risky gamble to trust an opponent, but if that risk pays off then they’ve got a much better chance of getting everything they want.”

 

Spike manages to get his hands underneath him and pushes. It takes several seconds - seconds that might remind Stephens of a certain Last Man Standing match eighteen months ago - but slowly ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins manages to get up to a vertical base. He hasn’t got much left now, and faces his two opponents with a snarl twisting his features.

 

Zyon takes a step towards his old partner.

 

Behind him, Michael Stephens drops to one knee and slams his arm up between the Unique Youth’s legs.

 

*CHING!*

 

“RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

It’s part cheer, part jeer. It’s part approval, part horror. And it is one of the loudest noises most people present have ever heard, as the entire crowd comes to its feet in amazement. Zyon’s eyes bulge and he staggers, bent double over the sudden, completely unexpected pain. Spike Jenkins just stares in shock.

 

And Michael Stephens grabs the back of Zyon’s shorts and gives him a shove. The Unique Youth staggers a few steps forward into Jenkins, who grabs him and looks up at Stephens, still bewildered… and Stephens draws one black-nailed thumb across his throat, then jabs it downwards.

 

Spike places Zyon in a vertical head scissors and double-underhooks the Unique Youth’s arms. Then he jumps into the air…

 

*BANG!*

 

…and from there, it’s academic.

 

“ENDWELL ON ZYON!” Mak yells, struck dumb by events but suddenly recovering his voice, “but… Michael Stephens…”

 

Spike turns Zyon over and, still looking up at his former mentor to make sure this isn’t some cruel trick, makes the cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

“Zyon has been eliminated!” Funyon booms over the din that kicks up again when Kivell’s hand comes down for the third time.

 

“What the hell just happened?” Mak Francis splutters, “will someone tell me what the hell just happened!?”

 

“Survival!” King shouts back, “that’s what! Toxxic knew Zyon was stronger so he used him to help beat down Spike, then turned on him and fed him to the lions! There’s not a man in this company who’s going to get up from the Endwell after a match in the Elimination Chamber, Francis! Toxxic knew what he was doing all along, and he’s just as devious and treacherous as ever!”

 

Spike staggers up to his feet, eyes still fixed on the World Champion. Michael Stephens just stares back at him…

 

…and slowly, one side of his mouth creeps upwards into a well-remembered lopsided grin. Oh, Michael Stephens did know what he was doing. Now it’s just the two of them, the two remaining original members of Revolution Zero. Spike won the Last Man Standing, Stephens won under Cruiserweight Rules.

 

Now they’re in a cage.

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

There’s something different about the chants now, as if in recognition of the double-cross Stephens just pulled. They’re not heckling… exactly. But the old ring-name that now thunders out around the Pyongyang Arena has its own connotations for both men.

 

Spike takes a step forward and lets fly with an elbow smash.

 

*CRACK!*

 

Stephens staggers back, but some of the venom has gone from Jenkins’ strikes and the World Champion is able to reply with a European Uppercut!

 

*WHAM!*

 

It’s Spike’s turn to stagger, but Mike doesn’t hit as hard now either and he’s able to retaliate-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-but so can Stephens, once again!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Jenkins wobbles, but he comes back not with an elbow this time, but with kicks! The first one slams into Stephens’ left thigh-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-and as the champion wavers Jenkins capitalises by throwing some more against the Englishman’s chest!

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

…but Stephens catches the third one, then reaches out and grabs Spike’s hair before-

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

-delivering a stunning headbutt!

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

With only one leg to stand on Spike falls back, clutching at his face with blood starting to seep between his fingers from where Stephens caught him on the bridge of the nose. Stephens takes a step in towards him, but Spike lashes out and catches his enemy with a kick on the kneecap that sends Stephens circling away in pain. Meanwhile Matthew Kivell finishes rolling Zyon out of the ring into the waiting arms of assembled SWF referees and turns back to the match while the door is locked behind him for the last time.

 

“These two men are going all-out now,” Mak Francis says, “the hatred between them… it’s caution to the wind, and the first person to make a telling mistake will probably pay for it by losing the match!”

 

Spike scrambles up to his feet as Stephens grabs at his knee, gritting his teeth in pain. The Hollywood Superstar steps in and swings a palm strike at Stephens, but the World Champion ducks under it and grabs Spike’s head in both hands, then drops to one knee (not the injured one) with a jawbreaker! A spasm of pain flashes across Spike’s face but Stephens doesn’t release him; instead he gets back to his feet and transitions his hold into a ¾ facelock, then turns and runs for the turnbuckles…

 

“Sunny In England!” Mak shouts…

 

…but Spike shoves Stephens off and sends the Triple Champion into the turnbuckles chest first! A palm strike knocks Stephens sideways along the ropes, and when he comes to rest in the middle of them Spike grabs his enemy’s wrist and Irish whips Stephens towards the far cables… but Stephens reverses the momentum and sends Spike into the ropes instead! Jenkins rebounds and at the last minute Stephens dives down towards the mat, slicing his legs towards Spike’s shins for the soccer tackle…

 

…but Spike knows his opponent well and hurdles it! Stephens pops back up to his feet as Spike staggers to a halt and the Englishman approaches his opponent from behind-

 

*CRACK!*

 

“Pele Kick!” Mak Francis shouts in astonishment as Spike leaps into the air and swings one foot backwards over his head to collide with Michael Stephens’ skull, “Spike got him! Stephens is on the ropes!”

 

Literally as well as figuratively. Stephens staggers away and ends up clutching at the ropes for support while Spike gets back to his feet. The Hollywood Superstar sees his old enemy hanging on and slaps his right arm a few times, then charges forwards.

 

There’s no doubt that Stephens sees him coming. But right now his head’s so hazy there’s no way he can move.

 

*WHAM!*

 

“You’ve got him Spike!” King shouts as Jenkins’ lariat knocks Michael Stephens clean over the top rope onto the steel decking that surrounds the ring, “take him! Take him down now!”

 

Spike steps through the ropes, making sure that Matthew Kivell is paying full attention to what’s going down. The man from California grabs Michael Stephens by the hair and drags the woozy Sensation semi-upright, then shoves him into a standing headscissors… and underhooks each arm.

 

“Endwell on the steel?” Mak gasps, “that’ll do it sure enough, plus maybe fracture his skull!”

 

“He got in the ring, he knows the risk,” King shrugs, “get ready for a new champion Francis!”

 

The crowd are booing for all they’re worth. Spike Jenkins takes a deep breath and readies himself for the jump that will culminate in driving his former mentor’s face into the steel, culminate in not only becoming the first three-time Cruiserweight Champion in the SWF’s history, but also the World Champion for the first time in his career.

 

…and then Stephens manages to wrench his arms out of Spike’s grip and hook them behind the Hollywood Superstar’s knees.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Spike tries to grab onto something, anything to steady himself, but it’s no good. Stephens pushes with his shoulders and pulls with his arms and Spike tumbles back to the steel, hitting the back of his head hard.

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

Stephens straightens up and tucks one of Spike’s legs under each arm, making sure he has enough leverage. Then he falls backwards himself, but in a controlled way… and Spike Jenkins is catapulted up-

 

*WHAM!*

 

…and into the steel chains that form the wall of the Elimination Chamber. He slumps backwards again, possibly out cold before he even hits the ground. Michael Stephens isn’t going to take the chance; he jacknifes over into the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

Landon Maddix, Gabriel Drake, Spike Jenkins, Bruce Blank, Zyon. All of them excellent competitors, all superb physical specimens, all - in their own way - great wrestlers.

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

But sometimes even a great wrestler can be outsmarted by a great tactician. Michael Stephens wasn’t the strongest in the Chamber tonight, or the toughest, or the fastest, or even the best mat wrestler.

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

But sometimes, you don’t have to be.

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and STILL~ SWF World Heavyweight and Cruiserweight Champion… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” Funyon declares over the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’. The man himself is barely able to stand, virtually all of his energy expended in making sure no-one else but him walked out of the Pyongyang Arena tonight with his two titles. The door is opened for the last time and Brian Warner hurries in with the belts, then delivers them to Matthew Kivell. The SWF’s Head Official presents them to Michael Stephens, and the Englishman holds one aloft in each hand.

 

He’s battered, bruised and oh so weary. In the morning people will no doubt be questioning some of his actions. In the next few days he’ll have to deal with some of the constants of his life - teaming with Landon, the ever-present menace of Gabe - but right now he’s still on top, he still has his belts, he’s still the SWF’s Triple Champion.

 

He’s still Sensational.

 

“What a match!” Mak Francis breathes in awe, “I don’t think it’s untrue to say that any one of the men in that construction tonight could have walked away the winner, it was that close! In the end it was Michael Stephens who came through - it took a combination of physical ability, tactical thinking and, I’m sure he won’t mind me saying, a slice of luck, but come through he did with not just one but both titles!”

 

“He showed his true colours tonight,” Suicide King argues hotly, “he turned on Zyon when it suited him! I’m telling you Francis, if you ever needed proof that the man called Toxxic never left the SWF, it’s standing there in front of you! All the smiles and the fan-friendly charades have gone out the window; Toxxic is still the same backstabbing asshole he always was, devious, manipulative… but now his cover’s blown!”

 

“As you pointed out several times, it was every man for himself in the Elimination Chamber,” Mak Francis protests, “all alliances would have had to have ended anyway. Maybe Michael Stephens’ actions did seem harsh, and I’m sure Zyon won’t agree with them, but they did not go against the rules or even the spirit of the match, and I can honestly say that in his position I’d have done no different!” The Franchise ceases addressing his commentary partner and turns his head to face the camera as the shot cuts to the table. “Fans, we’ve had a superlative night at Ashes 2 Ashes; join us this Friday for AftershoxXx!”

 

The last shot of the Pay-Per-View is Michael Stephens wearily stepping down from the Elimination Chamber into the ringside area, where Amy is standing holding his last belt, the Tag Title. Stephens’ grey eyes look tired and dull… but at the corner of his mouth there is the hint of a smirk.

 

Joe Peters didn’t think Mike would get through this. Looks like someone’s been proved wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

©2006 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation