2/14 Storm Losing Matches

[The Amazing Rando 0]

The commercial break could not have came and went any quicker for the sold-out Los Angeles crowd, as having barely survived the insanity and doom of the previous match-up, the few ladies in the crowd have huddled up close to their boys in valentine bliss, leaving men like the Suicide King to spoil the mood.

 

“I’m so glad I got that flask for Kingmas…” the mutterings of the Gambling Man do not faze the steely-chaired veteran to his right, who has found time during the break to begin tossing a few chocolate-covered cherries into his mouth, no doubt a gift from a female fan.

 

“Don’t be so bah-humbug, King! And just think, next up we get to see your absolute favorite wrestler ever compete in that very ring!”

 

“What? Alan Clark is not my favorite wrestler!” The sarcastic tone of the Franchise’s voice seems to have passed the King by, “and besides, if anything at all good can come out of this match, it’s him and Stephens destroying each other for my amusement!” Laughter from the Suicide King can be heard as the lights around the Staples Center suddenly amp up the lumens, sending a hush over the crowd…

 

…but only for a moment…

 

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

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

 

The chant fades, only to be replaced by the sound and fury of Boy Sets Fire and an even more familiar chant from those all around ringside.

 

“Tooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…”

 

“Tooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…”

 

The crowd stands and turns their attention towards the SmarkTron, the giant screen now showing five words…

 

“PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…”

 

“Tooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…”

 

“Tooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…”

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the NUMBER ONE CONTENDERSHIP to the SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!”

 

*BOOOOOOM!*

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

The crowd explodes in unison as their hero steps out from behind the backstage curtain and into a cloud of red pyrotechnics, the former World Heavyweight Champion’s face not the usual smirk or sly grin.

 

“Introducing first…making his way to the ring…from Nottingham, United Kindgom….weighing in at two hundred eighteen pounds…he is one half of the S-W-F Tag Team Champions of the World…

 

…MICHEAL STEEEEEEEEEEPHENS!!”

 

*BOOOOOOM!*

 

A second explosion of pyro erupts from the ringposts, a signal that usually brings the Straight-Edger barreling to the ring at lightning speed, but Stephens walk on this night is slow and deliberate, a ringside camera zooming in on the tag champion’s face to show an expression that looks to say ‘what am I doing here’…

 

’I never thought this could be me,

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

Like all the fun turns into shame

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

 

“Those words can definitely speak volumes for tonight! Michael Stephens has spent the last few weeks being cast into the shadows by Tom Flesher, losing out on his shot at the World Title during the Cluster(bleep) Match, and now being forced to wrestle for a shot at the International Championship!”

 

“He doesn’t even deserve that much! He should be wrestling Heat and Jack The Ripper in a dark alley somewhere!” chides King as Stephens reaches the ring, pulling his jacket, t-shirt, and tag title from his body and handing it off to a ringside attendant before rolling into the ring. As he stands he gives a nod to both Funyon and to the referee, Nick Soapdish, before turning his attention back to the entranceway, working out the kinks in his neck, shoulders, and wrists as the sounds of Boy Sets Fire are replaced by everyone’s not-so-favorite monotone announcements…

 

“Please Stand Clear of the Ring. Por favor Soporte Claro del Anillo….”

 

“Boooooooooooooooooooooo!!”

 

“…For the Safety and Comfort of Others…No Smoking Please. Para la Seguridad Y la Comodidad de Otras... El Ningún Fumar Por favor….

 

The Walt Disney Company and the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation are proud to present…your International Champion…”

 

“Some day my prince will come

Some day we'll meet again

And away to his castle we'll go

To be happy forever I know

Some day when spring is here

We'll find our love anew

And the birds will sing

And wedding bells will ring

Some day when my dreams come true…”

 

“Oh you have got to be…”

 

The rousing chorus of trumpets follow a lone spotlight on the stage, the jeering crowd watching on as a strip of red carpet unrolls out towards the ramp, followed by Alan Clark and Walter Reynolds, the bodyguard keeping hold of the International Title as Alan soaks up the adoration from the fans, the faint glimmer of pixie dust surrounding the champion as it falls from the ceiling…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“And introducing his opponent…being accompanied to the ring by Walter Reynolds and representing Disneyland in Anahiem, California…he weighs in at two hundred twenty five pounds and is YOUR S-W-F INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION…the “Happiest Guy On Earth”…

 

ALAAAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAARK!!”

 

“Let’s hope he turns into a pumpkin tonight…that’s all I can wish for…”

 

“Wrong movie, King! This is a Snow White tune…” Francis interjects himself with some bravado, but peters out when he realizes that he is differentiating Disney soundtracks. “And besides that, Alan Clark seems to be smiling brighter and whiter than he has in recent weeks.” Mak is correct, as the camera follows Alan and Walter to the ring, the champion’s signature smirk as noticeable as ever as he takes time out of his walk to wave cordially to the ringside fans, who return the favor with some non-Disney-sponsored hand gestures of their own. “Let’s hope they get caught by the censors…”

 

“Does that fool even realize what he’s about to get in the ring with? Michael Stephens is nefarious scum, not Mickey Mouse…”

 

“And with the World Championship the light at the end of Stephen’s tunnel, I don’t think he’s going to be in much of a mood for any of Clark’s shenanigans!”

 

“Is anyone ever in the mood for that dolt?” adds the King as Alan and Walter part ways at the bottom of the ramp, with Alan taking a moment to wipe his feet across the end of the carpet before sliding into the ring, the referee making sure both men keep their distance from each other before the bell sounds.

 

“This could be a big night for Alan Clark. Defeating Michael Stephens is something few men have done, and could be a one way ticket to glory if Tom Flesher has anything to say about it.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Stephens is good for! He’s nothing more than a stepping stone! Gabriel Drake and Landon Maddix both stepped over him en route to From The Fire in just a few weeks, so why shouldn’t Alan Clark do the same, besides the fact that he isn’t Gabriel Drake or Landon Maddix?”

 

DING DING DING!!

 

“There’s the bell, and I don’t think I would call Stephens a stepping stone for anything or anybody—and there we go!” Francis’ excitement explodes as the two men circle each other for a few seconds before lunging toward the center of the ring and into a tie-up, but after a moment of Alan’s cheerful babble Mike simply pushes him away…

 

SMACK!

 

…and brings his right arm up and into Clark’s jaw with an apropos European-style uppercut! Alan stumbles, doubling over after the whiplash and eats a toe kick for his troubles, putting his head right back up and giving the International Champion a look into the eyes of the former World Champion as he barrels forward, wrapping his arms around Alan’s waist and slamming him into the corner!

 

“He might not have his sights on the International Title, but he isn’t going to let that stop him from victory, not a chance!”

 

“Even if he wins, Francis, he’s going to have to wrestle Clark again next week! Tom Flesher might not even want Clark to win this week, as it will keep Stephens busy that much longer fighting for a belt he doesn’t even want!” In the ring, the referee starts his count as Alan flails about in the corner, doing whatever he can to block the onslaught of knees and uppercuts coming from Stephens, as whatever body part he leaves open to the air is struck rapid-fire.

 

“One…

 

..Two…

 

...Three…”

 

“For a man that once held three championships at the same time, I doubt he would really turn it down if he won it.” Stephens breaks at the call of four, backing away from the corner long enough for Clark to pull himself out of the cradled position he had worked his body into, but the moment the cheery champ takes one step from out of the corner Stephens rushes back in…

 

“Ahhhhhh…OOMPH!”

 

“Snake Eyes!! Clark telegraphed the return and Michael Stephens just paid for it with his face! That’s an Excedrin migraine!”

 

“Do they even have Excedrin in the UK?” King questions as Mike falls backwards to the mat and Alan drops to one knee, taking a second to regain his thoughts as replays show the reversal of fortune, returning the live action in time to notice the very large smile that has formed on Alan’s face as he turns his attention to Stephens, who has managed to get back up to his feet and looks none-too-pleased to have eaten turnbuckle. With another strong burst, Michael tries for a second shoulder-block, but the barely-off-one-knee Clark’s low center of gravity proves to be the difference maker as Alan strafes himself out of position and gets his hands on the body of Stephens as he passes, using the Sensation’s momentum against him to toss him unceremoniously into the ropes…

 

 

 

…and out to the floor!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“Twice in a row Stephens has tried to keep the match in his favor, and both times the quick-thinking Clark has managed to just slip away! He was never the brightest…” The crowd’s jeers continue as Stephens pulls himself back up to his feet with the apron, only to look into the ring and see Alan Clark headed straight for him!

 

“HIGH RISK COMING UP—NO!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Mike manages to move his body out of the way of the potential crash site, only for Clark to simply throw on the brakes at the ropes, giving Stephens an eyeful of DISNEY-SPONSORED CATALOGUE POSES~ when he looks into the ring!

 

“Oh, what a slap in the face!”

 

“I think he’s checking his Mickey Mouse watch, Francis…” adds the King as Alan looks down at his empty wrist for a moment, once again drawing the sold-out crowd to chime in with their thoughts...

 

“BOOOOOOOOO---“

 

“UHHMPH!!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAH!”

 

“And it seems he forgot how close he was to the ropes, and Michael Stephens was able to hook his legs and put Alan down!” But as Clark strikes the canvas he snakes his right foot free, curling it up and then stretching it back out, catching Stephens in the chest and sending him backwards and into the steel guardrail!

 

“BOOOOOOO!!”

 

“AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS!” A small group of fans by the entranceway can be heard chanting just in front of the two men as Alan slides to the outside, leaving Soapdish to voice his displeasure and begin to count…

 

…1…

 

A closed fist from the smiling Clark draws even more ire from the fans just over the barricade, letting themselves be heard as Alan drags Stephens up to his feet.

 

“YOU SUCK (BLEEP), CLARK!!”

 

“Woah!” both Francis and the Suicide King react, as do the censors, at one raucous fans idea of Alan’s personal life.

 

…2…

 

“This is TV-G, sir.” Clark replies, not even raising his voice as he turns and grabs Stephens by the wrist, forcing his body forward with a grunt and sending the Sensation crashing into the steel steps with a…

 

KER-RANG!!

 

“I thought that wasn’t allowed!” protests Francis, as does Soapdish, and no doubt Stephens would also be protesting if he was not doubled over on the floor in the heap.

 

“This isn’t hardcore rules, Mak!” points out the King as Alan himself follows the path of Stephens, bringing his knee driving in and connecting with a sickening sound of flesh-on-flesh-on-steel!!

 

THUNK!

 

“That could have knocked him out!!” Even Walter Reynolds seems shocked as he takes a few steps back from the mayhem, leaving Clark to take a moment to once again pose, this time on the steps above the downed Stephens, waving and smiling to all of his “adoring” fans watching on.

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“I don’t think that’s what he wanted to hear, King” but undaunted, the smile never fades as Alan heads back down the steps to the floor, pulling Stephens off the ground and aiming him back toward the ring, taking a second to wrench the Brit’s right shoulder back with a hammerlock before tossing him under the ropes. “It has been three years since Stephens lost to Alan Clark, and I don’t think either man has forgotten that!”

 

“And if this keeps up it looks like Clark is going to do it again!” The King, uncharacteristically cheering on Alan Clark (or possibly characteristically doubting Stephens), watches on as a replay shows Michael’s bell rung thanks to Clark’s knee as the Happiest Guy On Earth himself gets back into the ring, rolling Stephens over onto his back and crawling atop for a cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

NO!!

 

“Michael Stephens is able to kick out, but he still looks to be in a daze!” The camera catches Mike’s face as he rolls onto his side, trying to shake off the pounding in his forehead, but Alan is not slowing up, ignoring the warnings and reaching for the hair on the back of his opponent’s head, pulling him back up to his feet even as Stephens’ hands swat and flail, only to be momentarily stopped by another hard knee to the stomach. When Mike is finally vertical, Alan leans down and wraps his arms around his waist before lifting him up into the air and over his shoulder…

 

 

…and goes into a spin!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“It’s a Whole New Whirl for Michael Stephens!” Francis can not resist the pun, “and you have to know that it is drawing all the blood in his body straight to his brain, that can not feel good!”

 

“He could use a little more blood to his brain, if you ask me.” But nobody was asking, especially not Michael Stephens, as Alan drops him back down to his feet, the spin keeping Mike’s head and body whirling long enough to send the stumbling tag champion back-first into the corner, his arms hanging over the sides of the top rope and keeping him vertical. Across the ring, Alan Clark has shaken off his own dizziness and is heading straight toward the Sensation in the corner, rolling through a picturesque cartwheel…

 

“WRECK OF THE…WAIT!!” hollers the Franchise as Stephens ducks, but Alan’s feet had not left the mat, putting the doubled over superstar in perfect position to have his head caught in a front facelock…

 

 

THUD!

 

“Did you see that!!! Clark went for that enziguri, but Stephens ducked…only to fall face-first into that vicious DDT!! …and a cover!!”

 

One!!

 

 

 

Two!!

 

 

 

“KICKOUT!”

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

The crowd erupts as Clark’s victory is thwarted once again, but the cheerful competitor is still smiling as much as ever, although the sly grin seems to be looking more villainous than usual.

 

“Look at that face…the wheels are turning!”

 

“Well he does seem to have the brain of a hamster sometimes.” The Suicide King mocks as Alan stands, ripping the tie from the back of his hair and letting his ponytail come free. A quick tussle later and Clark’s grin looks a bit more at home…at least to the casual OAOAST fan.

 

“I don’t think this is a good sign if you’re Michael Stephens….” And after another lift to his feet, Michael does indeed find himself in a bad way, his head trapped in a facelock. Alan wrenches the neck back and forth a few times before pushing his body backwards, throwing Stephens up and over and straight back down with a hard snap suplex!!

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“He hears you! S(bleep)! Shut up already!” yells the King over his shoulder as Alan rolls his pelvis to the side, keeping his hold on Mike’s neck and head as he twists back around and gets up to his feet, repeating his movement to dump Stephens right back down!

 

“That’s two…could it be time for the 3 O’clock Parade?! I don’t think these fans want a parade!”

 

“I should be getting a parade! Kingmas was Monday!” You would think he would be happy that he had his own holiday, but he’s the Suicide King. Back in the ring, the Alan Clark and the Michael Stephens are still hooked together thanks to Alan’s grip on Michael’s head and neck as both men find themselves on their feet once more, but with the crowd still chanting over his shoulder, Alan releases his hold, giving Mike a slight bit of breathing room before driving his knee up into the tag champion’s chest and then quickly re-applying the facelock.

 

“A little added insult from Alan Clark, and what is he doing now?!” asks Francis as Clark turns himself around, putting Stephens’ back at the turnbuckle before lifting him up, grunting a little as he holds Michael in the air and pushes forward, releasing the Sensation from his grip and sending him down and into the turnbuckle upside-down and chest-first!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

 

“Bloodshed would call that the Wake Up Call, and that just might be exactly what Alan Clark intended to give Michael Stephens right there!”

 

“I would never want to wake up next to Alan Clark…that’s a lot of empty martini glasses, and Stephens doesn’t drink!” adds King as referee Nick Soapdish tries to check the wear and tear on Michael, but Alan seems to have other ideas, his lower body glancing past the referee as he drives his feet between Mike’s shoulder-blades with a dropkick! Soapdish admonishes Clark as the International champ gets back to his feet, brushing himself off as the camera zooms in on the upside-down face of Stephens, a grimace of pain across it as he tries to pull his body up and out of it’s precarious position.

 

“Alan Clark can’t win the match with Stephens hanging in the corner like that…”

 

“Well duh, Captain Obvious!” quips the King as Clark pulls Stephens up, ignoring the referee’s calls as he lifts his opponents body up and to a vertical position, pushing and pulling on Michael’s limbs to keep him seated on the top rope, every once in a while sending a forearm into Stephens’ chest to prevent any escapes.

 

Finally having him where he seems to want him, Clark himself climbs up to the second rope as the crowd dies down to a near silence, a few people here and there standing to get a glimpse of what will happen next as Alan pulls Michael up and twists his body, balancing precariously to hook in a ¾ facelock…

 

“My God, King! If Alan Clark hits this…” Mak Francis can be heard gasping, along with a heavy portion of the sold-out crowd, as Alan takes a leap of faith from the top…

 

 

 

 

 

…and pulls Stephens right along behind him…

 

 

 

 

 

 

THUUUUUD!!!

 

 

“HOLY (bleep)! HOLY (bleep)! HOLY (bleep)!”

 

“HOLY (bleep)!!!” adds both the Suicide King and the Franchise as the bodies of both men crash into the canvas, the impact causing Nick Soapdish to jump back in surprise. “Talk about Cutting In Line!!” Francis adds as both men lay there, Soapdish finally deciding to begin his count as neither man makes much of a move…

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

The crowd’s chants change from shock to anxiety as they see both their hero and Alan Clark unmoved in the middle of the ring, the only non-static motion being that of Nick Soapdish’s arms as he raises his hands along with his count…

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“Stephens looks to be moving, King!!” shouts Mak, but as the Sensation’s head and upper-body begin to rise, they quickly drop back down, his body simply rolling to its back and causing the chants to grow even louder from the sold-out arena crowd…

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!!!”

 

“FIVE!”

 

“SIX!”

 

“It can’t end this way! It just can’t!”

 

“Stop being so melodramatic, this is fantastic!” But the Suicide King’s hopes are dashed as Alan Clark begins to stir, his upper body rising from the mat as he rolls himself over and throws himself atop Michael Stephens body and Soapdish drops to make the count…

 

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEE!!!

 

 

NO!!!!

 

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“MICHEAL STEPHENS KICKED OUT!!!” Francis almost falls out of his wheelchair in excitement and the crowd explodes as Alan rolls onto his back, a weakened look of shock upon his face as Stephens rolls his body slowly towards the ropes, his hands moving gingerly to his neck as the replays show both men’s bodies falling from the top rope and back into the ring, the slow-motion capturing the whiplash of Michael Stephens’ neck during the landing….

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!!!”

 

“Even with Michael Stephens looking down and hurt, this crowd has come alive as both men try to recover, but Alan Clark has somehow managed to get back up to his knees and whatever happiness he had has faded away to frustration!”

 

“I wouldn’t be happy to be wrestling Stephens either, quite frankly…” adds King as Alan groggily stands back to his feet, giving Soapdish a bit of a glare as the crowd around him continues to chant, the usually Happiest Guy On Earth trying to ignore them as he pulls Stephens back up, but just before Mike can get to his feet Alan finds the hands of the Sensation wrapped around the top of his head…

 

 

CRAAAACK!!

 

 

“YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!!’

 

…before eating a jawbreaker OUT OF NOWHERE!!”

 

 

“Where’d he pull that out of?!”

 

“Desperate times, King! Desperate times…” answers the Franchise as the crowd gets to their feet, every single set of eyes watching on as Stephens stands, his face showing definite signs of pain, and takes a bounce off the ropes and aims for the stumbling Clark, throwing his legs out and taking Alan down to the canvas!! “…SOCCER TACKLE! Clark just got swept right off his feet and this crowd loves it!!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

“LET’S GO STE-PHENS!”

 

Stephens stands, acknowledging the crowd with a few waves of his hands but not giving Clark any sort of recovery time, coming up behind the kneeling Clark and pulling him around toward the center of the ring by the hair, keeping him bent down with his face toward the mat…and then as close to the mat as possible…

 

 

WHAM!!

 

…as he turns and drives his elbow down into the back of Clark’s neck, putting him face-first into the canvas!!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“He calls that Unfinished Business, and that is exactly what it looks like on this night, as Alan Clark is already trying to get back up!!” Indeed, Clark is up to his knees is fairly good time, but Stephens is back to his feet even quicker, grabbing at Alan’s right wrist and pulling him up with a whip toward the ropes. “And now an irish whip and Clark is coming back with a clothesline…NO! Stephens ducks!” Mike slides out of the way of Alan’s clothesline attempt, putting Clark back into the ropes for a second time, only to be caught in the Sensation’s clutches as he bounces back…

 

 

THUD!!

 

“Huge Side Effect slam!! Alan Clark is down and Michael Stephens has the cover!!”

 

One!!

 

 

 

Two!!

 

 

“SHOULDER UP!!” Francis cries as Alan’s shoulder shoots off the canvas, momentarily deflating the crowd as the chants begin to start up again for their favorite (tag) champion…

 

“Toooooooooxx-ic!”

 

“Toooooooooxx-ic!”

 

Stephens looks around the arena, hearing the chants and taking a moment to pose, putting his black-nailed forefinger to his temple before pulling his opponent up and throwing Clark’s head between his legs…

 

“Toooooooooxx-ic!”

 

“Toooooooooxx-ic!”

 

“Oh no…” mutters the Suicide King as Stephens pulls Clark’s arms behind his back, hooking the right…then the left…

 

“The crowd seems to want it, and Michael Stephens is going to deliver a little Shock Syndrome to Alan Clark right …..NO!!”

 

WHAM!!

 

“YES!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“—A back body drop just saved Alan Clark, and the Happiest Guy On Earth looks to be smiling once again!” The Franchise, as well as all the fans, watch on as Stephens’ back arches on the canvas with pain from the hard landing as Alan spins around, smiling once again as he delivers a boot to the side of Mike’s head before pulling him up and towards the center of the ring, repeating the same motions that his opponent had just done to him. After putting Stephens’ head between his legs he pulls his arms back, hooking them and getting himself in position…

 

“Yes! This is what that limey punk deserves!”

 

“NO! NO! NO! Alan Clark is about to give Michael Stephens a taste of his own medicine! He can’t do this!!” The long time fans will remember Bloodshed’s True Grace, a maneuver now more commonly known as the Stephens’ Shock Syndrome, but even with his arms trapped behind his back, Michael Stephens is not about to let himself be taken out by his own signature, and begins fighting to pull himself out of the hold, kicking his legs and twisting his body with all he has. Alan keeps the hold locked in, though, half trapping his opponent and half letting his opponent expend the energy to try and escape.

 

“Come on! What are you waiting for! Do it!” The Suicide King yells from the announce booth as Stephens continues to fight, his grunting and groaning can be heard as abandons the flailing and instead tries to get his feet underneath himself to give Alan the same ride he just received seconds ago.

 

“Stephens is trying to reverse it...” calls Francis, but the moment Alan seems to feel that kind of movement, he simply wrenches his body back, lifting the legs of Stephens off the canvas and leaping forward…

 

WHAM!!

 

…and driving him down face-first into the mat!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 

“MY GOD! The Stephens Shock Syndrome just connected…ON MICHEAL STEPHENS!!!” The crowd continues their jeers as Alan rolls Stephens onto his back and hooks the leg for a pin….

 

 

One!!

 

 

“This could be it, King!!”

 

Two!!

 

 

 

 

Three!!!!

 

 

 

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“SHOULDER UP! SHOULDER UP! He got his shoulder up!!!” The crowd, and Mak Francis, both seem to blow up at near the same milli-second, as the left arm of Michael Stephens shoots from the canvas at the very last possible moment, and as Alan Clark rolls off his opponent’s body he looks down to see the arm still hanging in the air as Nick Soapdish makes it known the world that it was nothing more than a two-count for the International Champion…

 

“How? Why? HOW DID HE DO THAT?!” The Suicide King slams his fists down onto the desk as Alan knocks the arm down in anger with one hand and sends his other hand, balled into a fist, straight into Michael Stephens’ face.

 

“He has the will to win, and that little tantrum you just threw is probably nothing compared to what Tom Flesher just probably did to his office.” Francis’ remarks are more than likely spot on as Soapdish warns Clark of the obvious closed fist, but the champ brushes the warning off and stands to his feet, pacing a circle in the ring with his head down as if trying to figure out what else he has to do to put Michael Stephens down for a three count.

 

“He has every right!” King fires back as Clark continues to pace, these few seconds giving Stephens some time to recover. Clark keeps his eye on his opponent, though, and the moment Michael is up to one knee Alan goes back to the attack, dragging him up to his feet and turning him around, facing him towards his adoring fans as he wraps his arms around his waist and lifts him into the air…

 

“Looks like it’s time for a little trip to the Backlot…..” but as Stephens is about to go for his ride, he throws all of his weight into his feet and pushes his shoulders off of Clark’s back, sending him rotating all the way around and out of harm’s way and straight into a standing position!

 

“YEAAAAAAAAH!”

 

Clark turns to face the freed Stephens, but gets a foot to the solar plexus, the shot allowing Michael the time to get in close and wrap his arms around Alan’s neck before aiming toward the turnbuckle…

 

“SUNNY IN ENGLAND!” Francis calls out, but with a hard shove Alan pushes Stephens away, sending him into the corner. “No, but Stephens caught himself before he ate that buckle…” But as Michael turns to face Clark, he finds him waiting like a predator, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up and over his shoulder and straight down into the mat! “Northern Lights!! Alan Clark just connected with the Northern Lights!”

 

“It’s gotta be over now!” King chimes in with his own two cents, but Alan Clark shrugs off the potential cover, and instead stands to his feet and moves toward the corner, leaving Stephens prone on his back as he climbs the ropes and positions himself on top, his smile brighter and wider than ever as he looks around the arena before rotating his hands over his head…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“Fauntleroy!! Alan Clark pinned Stephens with the 450 Splash once before…and it looks like he wants lightning to strike twice!!” the Franchise is barely able to get the words out before Alan takes to the sky, flipping his body forward with as much grace as he can, a slow-motion camera would no doubt be able to catch the smile on his face turn to that of total shock and horror as Michael Stephens body rolls towards the corner just as he completes the first roll, leaving Alan Clark to do nothing but crash down into the canvas with a resounding and reverberating…

 

 

THUUUUD!!

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!” The Los Angeles crowd erupts as Alan’s body bounces violently off the mat, only to be suddenly rolled to its back by Stephens as he aims for victory…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

“It’s a cover! It’s a cover!”

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

“NO! Not like this! That idiot!”

 

 

THREEEEEEE!!!

 

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

“ALAN CLARK KICKED OUT!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

 

Nick Soapdish’s right hand shows Michael Stephens two fingers as Alan Clark is able to get his shoulder up just before the three, leaving the entire arena and probably ninety-nine percent of the viewing audience in shock as they watch the crash-and-burn replayed on one half of their screen as Stephens wastes little time on the other half, pulling Alan up to his feet and again aiming himself and his opponent toward the corner! Stephens points one hand to the sky before once again hooking in the ¾ facelock, looking to put the first nail in Alan’s championship reign…

 

“He’s going to try again!” exclaims Francis, but as he moves toward the corner Alan moves right along, pushing his body just a bit faster…

 

 

“OOOMPH!!”

 

 

…and sandwiching Michael Stephens’ body between his own and the corner!

 

“And again he fails! YES!” The Suicide King seems elated as Stephens is deflated, the air no doubt flying from his lungs upon impact, his hands falling to his sides as Alan holds him in the corner, wrapping his own arms around Michael’s waist once again before lifting him up, letting out a groan of pain before placing him onto the top turnbuckle, his legs dangling to the outside.

 

“Michael Stephens has been perched on the top rope now, and Alan looks to be wanting to join him!” calls Mak as Alan begins his own climb, keeping his hands around Stephens’ waist as he does so, but as Alan’s feet hit the second rope, Stephens comes alive once more, his arms folding and firing backwards in both directions, trying to elbow his way to freedom! “And he’s fighting back! Michael Stephens does not want to see what Alan Clark has in store for him!”

 

“Let’s hope they both tumble out of the ring and end up breaking their necks. That’d solve a whole lot of problems…”

 

“Ahem…” Francis points at his wheelchair, but the Suicide King blows it off.

 

“I wasn’t talking about you now was I?” he rebuts as Stephens fires off another hard elbow, the shot sending Alan tipping backwards, but his grip keeps him from taking the fall, and as Mike tries to free himself from his bonds he finds himself being lifted up one notch higher, the right foot of Clark now resting right beside him on the top rope.

 

“One wrong move and this could be disaster for both men…” And sure enough, Stephens right elbow fires back one last time, clocking Alan Clark in the side of the head and sending him falling backwards…..

 

 

 

 

…and taking Michael Stephens with him.

 

 

“OH…”

 

 

Michael’s arms flail and his feet kick out wildly as Alan falls back, if only by instinct pushing his body out of the way of the one just above his own…

 

“…MY…”

 

 

And as the thousands in attendance and the millions watching at home look on, the body of Alan Clark hits the mat, followed almost a millionth of a second later by the body of Michael Stephens as he crashes violently down to earth!

 

“….GOD!!!!”

 

 

 

…THUD.

 

“AVALANCHE BACKLOT SUPLEX!!”

 

 

A silence fills the Staples Center as the crowd watches on, almost physically unable to put voice to their emotions as Alan Clark’s body rolls to its stomach and he creeps forward, using what small amount of strength he has left to throw his right arm over Stephens’ chest, the sound of Nick Soapdish’s hand striking the canvas echoing out around the arena…

 

 

One!!

 

 

 

 

 

Twooooo!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Threeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

 

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match by PINFALL…the S-W-F INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION…. ALAN CLAAARK!”

 

Funyon’s voice breaks through the silence, followed by “Someday My Prince Will Come”, but the crowd around the arena can still not believe it. A few murmuring boos can be heard through the shock as Walter Reynolds pulls Alan Clark out of the ring by his feet, almost having to carry him over his shoulder with the International Title draped over the other, leaving Michael Stephens alone in the middle of the ring with Nick Soapdish, barely having moved since his landing moments ago as pixie dust begins to fall over the scene.

 

“Go ahead, King, rub it in.”

 

“I have always found Alan Clark to be an annoyance on almost the level of Cutthroat, but he just did what few have done over the past three years. Not only that, but he’s done it twice…” The Suicide King seems to be in just as much a shock as everyone else as Stephens finally begins to stir, the camera catching Alan Clark and Walter Reynolds as they disappear through the curtain in the background as Nick Soapdish helps Stephens sit up. If he had the energy, he would probably be screaming, but somewhere in the Staples Center at that very moment, Thomas Flesher has enough emotion for the both of them.

 

“We have one more match up, folks, our Main Event…and if this was any indication, Gabriel Drake had better be worried that we don’t see two upsets in one night as he faces off against Alan Clark’s biggest fan, the rookie Ricky Barbosa.”

 

“Let’s hope that kid’s got insurance…” King adds as SWF Storm fades to commercial break with Michael Stephens rolling slowly to the outside, the sold-out crowd on their feet around their, at least on this night, fallen hero.

[King Cucaracha 0]

I also read Clark's match first (and sorry for not getting back to you at all until now Rando) and thought it was one of his better matches. Coming up against Toxx is always tough though, I think the one thing I'd say about Rando's match was that Stephens didn't get as much offence in as you'd expect from a former four-time World Champion. It was more a case of 'what does Clark have to do to finish Stephens off' with a Stephens burst near the end, rather than a back and forth match like Toxx tends to write. Whether that was what counted against you or not I obviously don't know, that's the only thing I picked up on. Other than that, I thought it was a really good match.

 

Hopefully that helps.

[Toxxic 0]

I'd probably agree with Landon, if I'm allowed an opinion on this. Stephens would have been in a bad mood and out to hurt someone, and I've always played up the fact that he's perfectly at home outside the ring, so he'd have probably got a bit more offence in.