SWF STORM, FEBRUARY 28, 2007!!!!

[Ace309 0]

Having just arrived in the University Of Victoria, jet-setting SWF World Tag Team Champion Landon Maddix lugs his bags behind him on his way through the back door and nods his head along with whatever song is pumping through the headphones of his iPod. However, his contented mood is about to be interrupted, as Benjamin Hardy pounces from beside the door frame as soon as he sees Landon, microphone wielded.

 

"Landon!"

 

...

 

"LANDON!"

 

...

 

"LANDON!"

 

"Huh?" Landon mumbles, pulling one of the earphones from his left ear. "Oh, sorry Benny boy. Didn't hear you. New iPod. You like?"

 

"Yeah, it's..."

 

"Great? I know, I bought it out of the money my new shirt's made in the past week alone. Crazy, huh? Well, actually, I say 'new' shirt..."

 

Unzipping his jacket, Landon reveals a BRAND-NEW 'Viva La Cucaracha' t-shirt. Much like the last, it's black with white lettering, nothing special. The speed at which it's been rushed out after the last would seem to say it'll sell anyway though.

 

"Already?"

 

"Hey, when Megan cuts a deal, she cuts a deal, if you catch my drift. Mo' money, mo' money, as the kids would say. Anyway, I gotta go..."

 

"Uhm, Landon, we're live on Storm." Benjamin points out, pointing out the previously unseen camera right in front of The Next Generation's face (!?). Awkwardly, Landon smiles and waves. "And I wanted to get your thoughts on what Gabriel Drake, the man you face for the SWF World Heavyweight Title at From The Fire, had to say last week. He had some very firm 'advice' for you regarding Michael Stephens. You have to defend the SWF Tag Team Championships with him tonight against Wild and Dangerous, but have Gabriel's words have any effect on your build-up."

 

Curiously, Landon just smiles.

 

"Come on Ben, all this talk about mind games going back and forth between the two of us. Isn't it obvious?! We both know what we're trying to do and yet neither of us will back down. It's an old trick. Talk the truth for a few minutes, sneak in a mind game somewhere in mid-dialogue, finish it off with a stark warning of things to come. I've pulled that one plenty of times in the past myself. Warning me about my partner's alterior motives like he's concerned for me? Puh-lease! Like he'd warn me, even if there were something to be concerned about. All Gabriel Drake is concerned with is Gabriel Drake. So, he's trying to fog my mind worrying about Michael Stephens turning on me before my big World Title Match. I think Gabe's been watching the wrong show."

 

"Excuse me."

 

"Well, it's like he's trying to convince me that one day I'm gonna turn around, BAM!, Sweet Chin Music... not very inventive now, is it?"

 

"So, you don't buy into what Gabriel said?"

 

"Look, people are going to read into things now I'm the number one contender." Landon admits. "Even before Gabe started stirring things up, people have been wondering if Mike is becoming more sour and more distant towards me. Let's set the record straight right now. Michael Stephens has ALWAYS been sour and distant towards me! That's just the way he is. He hasn't changed a bit since Clusterfuck as far as I can tell, so why should I be worried? Hear-say? Speculation?"

 

Landon scoffs.

 

"Tonight, Gabriel Drake's plan is going to go up in smoke. Me and Mike are going to go out there tonight and defend our Tag Team Titles just like we've been doing, albeit sporadically, ever since August of last year. And when we crush Wild and Dangerous' hopes of a record-setting fifth World Tag Team Title reign once again, it'll be obvious to the world, I've got nothing to worry about besides Gabriel himself. And as far as that goes, I've got a plan to make sure that's not a worry at all."

 

"You mean the stipulation at From The Fire."

 

"Indeed I do Benny boy." smiles Landon. "And I'm sure you're desperate for the scoop, to justify your existance."

 

Trying to stay non-commital, Benjamin just shrugs.

 

"Well, that's too bad." Landon shrugs in response. "I'll have my answer for Gabe on what the stipulation is going to be, but it won't be until next week. I mean, after all, he might not be the World Champion after tonight's over. So instead of worrying about me, maybe he should be worrying about defending his title tonight. Because Gabe, if anyone knows Alan Clark, it's me. And if anyone in the entire world knows how dangerous... and sadistic... and downright twisted Alan Clark can be, it'd be me! So Gabriel, allow me to return the favour and issue you a stark warning about a friend from my past, determined to make sure you don't make it to From The Fire...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...I've got nothing. See ya next week Gabe!"

 

And with that, Landon replaces the earphone back into his ear and strolls off, humming away to his nondescript tune as Benjamin watches on, shaking his head.

[Ace309 0]

MAIN EVENT - SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP

Gabriel Drake © vs. Alan Clark

Standard

5500 words

 

SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS

Two Skinny White Guys ©© vs. Wild & Dangerous

Standard tag rules.

5500 words

Send to Justice

 

HARDCORE TITLE

Jimmy the Doom © vs. Zyon

No rules.

4500 words

Send to HollywoodSpikeJenkins

 

YET MORE TAG TEAM ACTION

The Cadillac Boys vs. Asia Underground

Will the Cad Boys be able to reverse their own slide AND stop Asia Underground's meteoric rise to the top? Only time will tell.

Standard tag rules.

4500 words.

 

HARDCORE MATCH

JJ Johnson vs. Matt Myers (with James Matheson)

Johnson's... um... been in a bit of a slump after failing to wrest the World Heavyweight Title from Gabriel Drake. Can he reverse his fortunes against Myers?

No rules.

4000 words

Send to Secret Agent

 

OPENING CONTEST

Ricky Barbosa vs. Manson

Can Ricky avenge the vicious shot he took from Manson last week?

Standard rules.

4000 words.

[Ace309 0]

SWF Storm returns with Ben Hardy intercepting Insane Luchador backstage as he steps in front of him with the microphone shoved his face. IL stops, looking mildly annoyed, as he sighs and relents.

 

“I’m backstage with the Ill One, Insane Luchador, who last week got viciously destroyed by Zyon’s sneak attack when he got caught with the Big Shot post-match! What are your thoughts on that, IL?”

 

IL simply stares before saying, “How do you think I feel, Hardy? I tried to put some perspective for Zyon until he ran his mouth off and decided he needed to start a fight that he can never finish. Until he decided that he, the Unique Youth, felt the need to fill his mind of Alpha Male status, until he decided the need to strike first.”

 

“Zyon has been edgy recently and perhaps your comments threw him over the edge,” Hardy replies.

 

IL’s eyes narrow as he takes an imposing step towards Hardy. “I don’t give a damn what the cause was, Ben, I don’t care what sort of excuses he’ll be spewing out, there’s nothing he can do to amend this one. Nothing. He must’ve found me to be an easy target at the moment but I’m far from an easy target, I’m about as far as an easy target as it gets. Hell, I have even…”

 

“Died?” Hardy asks.

 

Insane Luchador pauses, shutting his eyes, before opening them. “That was a dream, Ben, that was all a dream.”

 

“…Oh.”

 

“Right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Good. But here’s the thing, Ben, I can’t figure out how or why Zyon thinks so highly of himself. I don’t see how this kid can think that he’s any better, any different than the other wrestlers I’ve faced off against.” Insane Luchador pauses to calm himself down by taking a deep breath before continuing.

 

“Well, you’ve certainly had your accomplishments, Rickmen, over the years.”

 

“It’s hard not to, Hardy, but that doesn’t change the fact. He is Zyon, plain and simple, and that’s all he’ll ever be. I’m Insane Luchador and that’s all I will ever be but that doesn’t put us on the same playing field. No. This kid hasn’t taken the hard hits I have, he hasn’t bled like I have bled…”

 

“Not many bleed like you do, IL,” Hardy says, half in complement and half in an obnoxious interruption.

 

Luchador grunts. “He hasn’t willingly flown off balconies like I have, he’s never fought Dace f’ing Night in a god damn car factory, he hasn’t taken on Grimedogg, he hasn’t been put through glass by Crowe, or brawled throughout a show with Stephens, he hasn’t been put through the hardest battle of his life against Blank, he has never dropped from a parking lot level to another just for a title, no. He hasn’t fought people like I have, Ben, not at all. He doesn’t have battle scars like I have.”

 

“Not too many have scars like you either,” Hardy comments during the silence.

 

IL looks around before cracking his knuckles to throw out an idea. “Point to nearly anything, Hardy, and chances are I’ve either flown off of it or been thrown through it,” IL says with a little smirk while Hardy surveys his surroundings.

 

Ben Hardy pauses and points off to the side of Luchador’s shoulder with a little shrug. The Ill One glances behind him at where Hardy’s finger focuses in on and he snaps his head back at Hardy with an irritated face.

 

“That’s a cement wall, Hardy,” IL says. Hardy gives a small gulp with a little stutter as he points above him without putting any thought into it. Luchador tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling in disbelief. Slowly he lowers his head to stare at Hardy straight in the eyes as he sighs before saying, “That’s a ceiling, Hardy, now you’re just being a dick about it.”

 

“Sorry,” Hardy mumbles while Luchador continues to stare at him.

 

“But. Still. The point stands, Ben, that somebody like the Unique Youth doesn’t intimidate me, no, I can’t see him doing anything to me that I haven’t put myself through. His pathetic ambush with the Big Shot wasn’t anything, Hardy, it was an inconvenience. The kid has some talent behind him but he can’t let some natural ability go straight to his head, hell, maybe he’s the one who has been dropped too many times onto his head if he thinks he can go one-on-one with me. Zyon has picked a fight that he doesn’t want to have, whether he knows it yet or not. Earlier, I had said that Zyon hasn’t ever bled like I have bled but that is something I will change very, very easily.” Insane Luchador’s face slowly twists into the notorious psychotic grin as he turns around to walk away with thoughts of contorting limbs of Zyon flying through his mind. But he suddenly turns around and yells back towards Hardy, “Zyon, I know you were watching this, kid, and like you said earlier… I’m going to be seeing you soon.”

[Ace309 0]

"We're here at the University of Victoria in British Columbia, Canada, where, shortly, young Ricky Barbosa hopes to gain a measure of revenge against MANSON. The issue stems from last week's Storm, where MANSON employed a number goons and then beat Barbosa and Myers bloody en route to an easy win last week."

 

"Barbosa learned MANSON isn't playing around and he better adapt quickly before he gets caught again. The brutality, the sickening bloodlust… that pure, unadulterated evil and fire in his eyes, it's something I haven't seen in a long time from MANSON and I personally welcome it."

 

"It's all grossly perverted. Some action needs to be taken before he does something needless like this again."

 

"You're mentoring Spike Jenkins, the man who broke your neck, so maybe once he does something like that, you'll come around on him. However, it wasn't needless, Barbosa was sacrificed for a good cause… the Messiah's cause."

 

The camera switch to the stage area, as the arena lights fall, cueing a guttural, distorted warbing from the speakers. The fans rise to their feet, as tension builds…

 

Then a final growl kicks "Scientific Remote Viewing" by Cephalic Carnage into full gear, as flashing strobes begin to pulse, with smoke billowing out from the stage. The curtain parts and obscured by his tattered, brown cloak, with metal mask and hood covering his face, MANSON walks out onto the stage, showered by spotlights as the merciless jeers of the crowd rain down.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen… This opening bout is a singles contest scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, hailing from Denver, Colorado, USA, he weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds… MMMMAAAANNNNSOOONNN!"

 

He strides down the aisle, completely focused on the ring, as the numerous chains on his person rattle ominously. He holds the bent metal bat over his shoulder, at the ready as he walks, then slides in underneath the bottom rope. He then stands and backs into his corner, where he flips the bat over the top rope at the behest of the referee, brushes off his hood and strips off his mask, placing it over the post. Finally, he sheds the cloak, draping it over the turnbuckle post, as well, and prepares for the match.

 

"I'm lost, what the hell is he doing now? He thinks he's a super-villain?"

 

"Isn't he? I mean, he can believe what he wants, no one is gonna stop him when he walks around with bats, chains, and God knows what else on him. Who's gonna dare asking him what's going on there?"

 

As MANSON loosens up in the middle of the ring, the soothing sounds of Cephalic Carnage fade out…

 

"Carry on, my wayward son,

 

There’ll be peace when you are done

 

Lay your weary head to rest,

 

Don’t you cry no more…"

 

…and the opening riffs of “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas resound within Key Arena. Two large blue flares erupt, making their way to the rafters from both sides of the stage, as Ricky Barbosa makes his appearance from behind the curtain and into the illuminating spotlights.

 

“And his opponent, hailing from the City of Champions, Edmonton, Alberta, he weighs in at one hundred and eighty pounds… RICKY BAAAARRRRRBOSSSSSAAAAA!"

 

The lyrics fade as Barbosa makes the long walk to the ring, and passing by supportive fans lining ringside, slaps hands with a few as he arrives at ringside. He peers at MANSON from under the brim of his hat and turns toward the steps. He pauses for a moment, the butterflies welling up in his stomach, and lets them out with a heavy sigh and a crack of his neck. Finally deciding to everything head on, he walks up slow and deliberately, forcing MANSON to wait further.

 

His eyes wide and almost fearful but full of anticipation, he stands on the apron, his foe waiting for him on the other side. An attendant rushes over, taking his hat and leather trenchcoat from him, He grabs onto the top rope with trepidation, but launches himself over regardless, throwing his fear aside as the lights come up and Referee Kivell calls for the bell.

 

::DING DING::

 

The native Canadian crowd already cheering Barbosa on, he steps out from his corner and begins circling the ring, but MANSON doesn't budge an inch from his. Looking at him through his long, black locks, MANSON gestures toward the bat on the outside. The Wayward Son looks, his eyes fixed on the bat, which is still stained with a dried, dark brown substance, flaking by now, nearly like rust. Taking his cue, MANSON rushes Barbosa, forcing him into a quick elbow and collar. He pushes Barbosa about the ring, imposing his superior strength and size on his much weaker counterpart.

 

"What a way to start by MANSON!" exclaims King. "I absolutely love it, using Barbosa's frame of mind right now to gain the advantage. Just look at him shoving that little bastard around the ring already."

 

"It's not as bad as using others to get one over on defenseless wrestlers but what happened to MANSON that he has to feel he has to do this stuff?"

 

"The reality of the SWF happened, Mak, he realized he was getting nowhere playing fair, just like I have, just like you have, at one point before, but it could also be argued that thoughts like these were always dwelling in his head... we're just seeing the real him right now."

 

He finally muscles Barbosa into a neutral corner and releases his hold, then comes in with a right hand which catches him flush. He throws a left, a right, and continues on, forcing in an elbow on occasion, until Kivell finally steps in and separates the two.

 

"We all know MANSON's gameplan everytime he goes out, but here he is, getting started early with a barrage!"

 

"Why does the ref always have to get involved, just let MANSON beat the hell out of him and send him packing back to wrestling school."

 

Barbosa goes at MANSON looking for more, but he lays in a kick to the gut, stalling him, then bringing a knee upward straight into his face. Ricky falls back, and MANSON jumps on him from the side, and starts smashing his countenance with elbows. He flails about, struggling to free himself while covering up with his hands in front of his face, until finally MANSON wraps his hands around his throat and begins throttling him.

 

"And now a knee to the face followed by more dirty tricks by MANSON!"

 

"It's just the quickest way from Point A to Point B… get your opponent down and smash his face in... and choke him out of need be."

 

Kivell steps in again and attempts to pull MANSON off Barbosa, but resorts to the five count. He releases his choke at four and nine-tenths, earning a reprimand which goes ignored, before turning toward Barbosa once again. However, Kivell provides enough distraction this time for Barbosa to leap at MANSON with legs in front, catching him with a dropkick which sends him flying!

 

"Barbosa coming back with a dropkick, sending MANSON out of the ring!"

 

"See… this is all Kivell's fault… just let em go."

 

MANSON hits the ropes off the dropkick and nearly goes out, but catches himself while on the apron before he does so. He stands and Barbosa heads after him, but the Bull rakes his eyes, staggering him, then grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him down throat first onto the top rope.

 

"But that's what Ricky gets for trying to take unfair advantage of MANSON… a cut-up eye and a bruised windpipe for his trouble!" shouts King.

 

Barbosa springs off the rope, dropping onto all fours in the center of the ring, where MANSON drops a knee from above to the back of the head. His opponent writhes in pain, grabbing the back of his neck and head, while rolling onto his back, as MANSON hits the ropes. He bounces off, coming back toward the center, kicking his leg out and dropping a wild Flashing Elbow to the chest! He then goes for a pin!

 

"The Muta inspired Flashing Elbow! Cover!"

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

KICKOUT!

 

Barbosa is pulled up by his hair by MANSON, who brings him in eye to eye, then snaps his head forward and hits a headbutt! The Son stumbles back, right into a corner, where MANSON chases him down and connects with a knee lift to the stomach. Barbosa lurches forward and MANSON pushes him back against the turnbuckle, then lays into him with a number of forearms, dazing his opponent, then grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him across the ring, Barbosa hits the turnbuckles and MANSON leaps, looking for the high knee, but Barbosa ducks out of the way and the

Bull's knee hits the turnbuckle!

 

"The headbutt and a knee to the gut, but Barbosa evades the big knee in the corner!"

 

His opponent closing in on him, MANSON grabs onto the rope for leverage and goes for a kick to the mid-section, connecting. However, on the next attempt, Barbosa sidesteps him, then brings an arm forward and fires off a chop to the chest, which has little impact on the clothed body of MANSON, as he lands a chop of his own to the base of Barbosa's neck. He releases the ropes, landing another kick and forcing Barbosa over. He then follows up his previous kesagiri chop by grabbing hands with Barbosa, slapping on a one handed knucklelock and forcing him to stand straight up, and with that, uses his free hand to release multiple, repeating chops, one after another and every one of them connecting with his opponent's throat. MANSON lets Barbosa drop to the mat, on all fours once again, as he grabs his neck in pain.

 

"Those always dangerous kesagiri chops of MANSON break Barbosa down!"

 

"He can set up a multitude of moves with those chops, Mak. The Iron Cutting Sword, the Inverted Brainbuster which he calls the Instant Hell Murder, the Heaven's Gate Goku Raku Gatame… a lot of his offense is based around doing as much damage as possible to the head and neck in order to set those up and this is just the start."

 

Standing above Barbosa, MANSON doesn't allow him a moment of respite, as he straddles his back and pulls him up by his hair. He balls his fist and looking out at the crowd for a moment, begins pounding the back of Barbosa's skull with fists. Kivell again forces MANSON off Barbosa, only to be pushed aside by MANSON, who next lifts Barbosa up casually and throws him through the ropes, out of the ring. This gets another warning from Kivell, who begins counting Barbosa out regardless, as MANSON parades around the ring.

 

"You may be right, it's been a while since I've seen MANSON this vicious and aggressive, he's giving Barbosa zero remorse. I wonder what it is about him that gets MANSON so riled up."

 

"It could just be Barbosa iu particular, but I believe he has a problem with the SWF as a whole, as he's said many times in the past… except for a select few like Johnson he really dislikes everyone here and views like does Barbosa… especially you."

 

"ONE!"

 

"BAR BO SA!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"BAR BO SA!"

 

"THREE!"

 

"BAR BO SA!"

 

"FOUR!"

 

With the fans willing Barbosa on, MANSON changes direction and hits the opposite ropes, bouncing off and charging toward Barbosa's position. He launches himself and exits through the ropes, straightening out and looking for the suicida elbow smash, but Barbosa ducks out of the way and MANSON crashes into the barrier instead!

 

"He was trying to put this one away, looking for the elbow suicida but he crashes and burns instead! Let's see if Barbosa can take advantage now."

 

Barbosa scrambles up to his feet, hurries over to MANSON and attempts to pick his limp frame up. He comes to and grabs onto the barrier with one arm, stuffing an elbow into Barbosa's face with the other. He stumbles away and MANSON follows, chasing him down and looking for a lariat, but Barbosa evades his opponent again, as MANSON's arm wraps around the post! He doesn't put up much of a fight this time as Barbosa shoves him under the ropes, into the ring on the aisle side and goes for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

KICKOUT!

 

Fired up, Barbosa stands and runs for the opposite side ropes, bouncing off and coming back, somersaulting a few feet in front and popping up, then going for the somersault splash. However, MANSON gets his knees up and crack goes Barbosa's back, as he bounces off and grabs his spine in pain. MANSON stands and pulls Barbosa up, placing him onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry and throwing him down in front, simultaneously bringing his knees up and churning Barbosa's insides with a gutbuster! He hits the mat and is immediately pinned by MANSON.

 

"MANSON puts a stop to the Rolling Thunder and follows it up with the double knee gutbuster out of the fireman's carry, that's gotta hurt!"

 

"Everyone knows the back and abdominals are maybe the most important part of the human body and MANSON just tore up that base in the matter of seconds. It effects your strength, your speed… essentially, you're done for."

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

KICKOUT!

 

"But let's not count him out yet, it looks like he still has some fight left."

 

MANSON drags Barbosa up to his feet and ducks under the arm, wrapping the other around the chest and behind the neck, but before he can lift Barbosa up for the Uranage, he catches a frantic series of elbows to the temple. The hold released, Barbosa wraps an arm around MANSON's neck and plants him on his skull with a DDT! Barbosa rolls him over with a hook of the leg!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

KICKOUT!

 

Barbosa pins MANSON again, this time with his arms around both legs.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

KICKOUT!

 

"MANSON is just too big, strong and tough for Barbosa to try that nonsense," says King. "He's gotta wear him down a more."

 

Barbosa stands and brings MANSON up with him, but the Stampede breaks free with a knee to the stomach. He grabs Barbosa by the arm and sends him hurtling into the ropes but as MANSON goes for a lariat on the come back, Barbosa ducks under the arm and reaching from underneath MANSON, takes him back with a roll-up!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE--

 

KICKOUT!

 

"MANSON IS OUT!"

 

"He's losing the speed game right now, he had better slow Barbosa down and take him back out of this match."

 

Barbosa and MANSON each stand, with Barbosa hitting the ropes and coming back at MANSON. However, this time he puts a stop to Barbosa, chasing after him and stepping into a high roundhouse! Barbosa goes down but pops back up as MANSON hits the opposite ropes and comes back, preparing the Iron Cutting Sword!

 

"Here it comes, the Zantetsuken, Mak!"

 

Barbosa evades once again, however, scrambling underneath and coming back up. He springs into a Superkick, but the leg is caught by MANSON! He grins at Barbosa who leaps with his free leg and goes for an enzuigiri, but MANSON ducks underneath that one, throwing Barbosa onto his stomach. Keeping a hold of his leg, MANSON steps in between his legs and grapevines the legs with one of his own, grabs his arms and places his other foot just below his neck. He then steps down, stomping Barbosa's face into the mat!

 

"CURBSTOMP!"

 

"He wrecked Barbosa's pretty boy looks with that one, the wicked Curbstomp just rearranged his face!"

 

MANSON steps over Barbosa off the Curbstomp and rolls him over, looking for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE--

 

 

"KICKOUT! BARBOSA KICKS OUT!"

 

"Unbelievable. Just give it up.

 

His frustration boiling over, MANSON gets in Kivell's face about the count, as Barbosa crawls underneath the ropes, onto the apron. He drags his body over to the turnbuckle and begins climbing up, his back to the ring. The Messiah gives up on his argument and turns back toward the ring, where he catches Barbosa heading up. He dashes over and knocks Barbosa's legs out from under him, crotching him on the turnbuckles. He then turns back to back to Barbosa and grabs him by the arms, lifting him over his head and dragging him away from the turnbuckle.

 

"Splash Mountain coming up, Mak!"

 

However, Barbosa kicks his legs wildly and manages to free himself from MANSON's grip as he lands behind MANSON. Quicker than MANSON can, he turns toward his foe and again goes low, pulling MANSON over with a roll-up, or at least attempting to, as MANSON grabs hold of the ropes. His grip slips and MANSON takes his opportunity, delivering a straight downward stomp directly to Barbosa's face! MANSON steps away from Barbosa as the rookie covers himself up with a forearm, writhing, but begins to stand anyway. He gets to his feet with the assistance of the ropes, but on the other side of the ring, MANSON uses the momentum of the ropes to launch himself toward Barbosa, and before he knows it…

 

"ZANTETSUKEN!"

 

MANSON connects with the Iron Cutting Sword, knocking Barbosa straight out of his boots and flipping him inside out!

 

"LLLAAAAARRRRIIIAAAATOOOO!" shouts King, as MANSON lays down for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEE!

 

::DING DING!::

 

"Your winner by pinfall… MMMMAAAANNNNNSOOOOONNNN!" announces Funyon, as Cephalic Carnage comes over the speakers.

 

"Barbosa gave it all he could, but MANSON prevails, unfortunately."

 

"It was looking scary," says King, whle MANSON has his arm raised, "but aside from those brief moments, he took Barbosa out of this match from the start."

 

"And now we'll see if his Blood and Thunder tag partner JJ Johnson can do the same to Matt Myers… back with more Storm, after this."

[Ace309 0]

Johnson/Myers – DNS.

[Ace309 0]

"Well, we're not going to waste any time," Mak says.

 

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVERYBODY KNOWS I'M IN OVER MY HEAD!

OVER MY HEAD…"

 

"Over My Head (Cable Car)" by the Fray hits the P.A. system, and "Cadillac" Calvin Szechstein and Zack Malibu stroll through the curtain, wearing their sunglasses at night!

 

"They're wearing their sunglasses at night!" King says. "Can they do that?"

 

"Corey Hart did it," Mak says with a sly grin.

 

The crowd cheers, as Szechstein and Malibu enter the ring, and Funyon makes the announcement.

 

::DING DING DING::

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a tag team match scheduled for ONE fall! Introducing first, already in the ring, at a combined weight of four-HUNDRED and three pounds, the team of "Cadillac" Calvin Szechstein and Zack Malibu… the CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADILLAC BOYS!"

 

There's a small cheer, but "Protect Ya Neck" by the Wu-Tang Clan hits, and Akira Kaibatsu and Michael Cross come out, the team of Asia Underground all business tonight!

 

"And their opponents, at a combined weight of five pounds, the team of Akira Kaibatsu and Michael Cross, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASIA UNDERGROUND!"

 

CROWD

 

Cross and Kaibatsu settle down in their corner, with Kaibatsu stepping to the middle of the ring, his eyes on the Cadillac Boys corner. Malibu and Szechstein are eyeing each other uncomfortably, and Szechstein offers to start, stepping across from Akira.

 

Calvin bends down and slaps the mat with both hands, popping back up and staring at Kaibatsu with a bit more ferocity than we've previously seen from the former OAOAST Champion. Kaibatsu, meanwhile, dances around the ring, the grace and effortless in his movements never more evident than right now. The two men circle, each of them looking for an opening—and then Calvin springs forward! Kaibatsu instinctively swings an arm out, but Calvin ducks it, going behind Akira and bringing him up and over with a quick German suplex! Calvin pops back to his feet, a smile on his face as he wags his finger at Kaibatsu, who licks his lips, grits his teeth and gets back to his feet.

 

Szechstein and Kaibatsu circle once again, again both men looking for the opening, and again it's Calvin who springs first, again sprinting towards Kaibatsu! The Divine Wind casually dances to the side, sending Szechstein into the ropes, and as Calvin comes back Kaibatsu looks for the sidekick—but Calvin again sees it coming, and hits the mat, baseball sliding right into Kaibatsu's base leg and sending the young upstart tumbling to the mat! Calvin again springs back to his feet, his breathing a little heavier but a smile on his face as he looks down again at Kaibatsu, who once again grits his teeth and gets to his feet.

 

The two men circle once more, again looking for the opening—but this time Kaibatsu easily heads to his corner, deciding instead to defer to Mike Cross! Cross climbs into the ring, eyeing Szechstein coldly.

 

"The OAOAST team apparently did their homework tonight," Mak says, "and Asia Underground are switching things up to try and counter that!"

 

"You can't argue with trying something a little different when your strategy isn't working," King says. "This is the right decision for Asia Underground…"

 

Cross and Szechstein circle one another, again looking for the opening, but this time when Calvin springs forward Michael springs forward as well, and the two lock up, both men jockeying for position. Calvin wraps his arm around Mike's head and tightens the grip, keeping him trapped in a side headlock. Cross manages to push him off into the ropes, but when Mike drops his head in preparation for a back bodydrop, Calvin catches him off guard by snaring him with a side headlock once again!

 

"Smart thinking by Szechstein, trying to make sure Asia Underground stay…well, grounded."

 

"What, are you an OAOASTer now?"

 

Calvin wrenches on Mike's head yet again, and Mike struggles to free himself. He grabs Calvin by the waist and lifts the pitchman off his feet, but as Calvin is lifted, he floats over Mike's shoulder and lands on his feet! Cross reacts quickly, spinning right around...and right into a right hand! A second shot sends him staggering back, and Calvin backs him into the ropes. Mike gets sent to the far side, and rebounds into a hiptoss...but Cross manages to roll with the move and land on his feet! Quickly, Iron Mike traps Calvin's arm and hiptosses him over, but before he can follow up, Szechstein bails out of the ring!

 

"What's he gonna do now, shill some more swag while he's on the clock?"

 

"Actually, I just think he's trying to cut Mike off before he can get going."

 

"Smart kid."

 

Calvin pauses for a few moments on the floor, and when Mike tries to follow Nick Soapdish tells him what's up, backing him away from the ropes. Szechstein hops back up on the apron and climbs back into the ring, and we're back at square one, as he and Cross circle each other again! They move towards each other, arms raised for a lockup...but Calvin delivers a kick to the stomach, and then fires off a pair of right hands, and then a chop that puts Mike against the ropes. Szechstein takes him by the arm and sends him across the ring, but when Mike bounces off the ropes, his partner taps him on the back in plain view of Soapdish, who allows the tag!

 

"I know Soapdish saw it, but I don't think Szechstein did!"

 

Calvin manages to throw Mike overhead with a back bodydrop, but as he disposes of the former Cruiserweight Champion, he lifts his head—and Kaibatsu springboards onto his shoulders, and snapping him over with a huracanrana! Calvin staggers to the ropes, clinging to them until he regains his balance, until he's sent over the top and to the floor thanks to a double clothesline from caucAsian duo! Szechstein hits the ringside floor hard, and Cross and Kaibatsu stare, full of piss and vinegar as they attempt to goad the veteran back into the ring. Calvin circles the ring calmly, and Malibu jumps to the floor, consoling his teammate who is not happy with the work of Asia Underground. Malibu talks shop with him, and they nod to each other before Calvin steps up on the apron, eyeing Kaibatsu before he steps back through the ropes.

 

"Kaibatsu is back in the ring, and you can tell that this rapid tagging has Calvin a little disoriented!"

 

Kaibatsu and Szechstein stare each other down, and the bold Akira charges forward, trying to take advantage of Calvin—but the wily Szechstein hits him with a drop toe hold, again sending the youngster to the canvas! Kaibatsu pops back up to his feet, hoping to catch the blown-up Szechstein off-guard…

 

…but Calvin is wide awake, baby, and puts the top of his head underneath Kaibatsu's jaw, sitting out and driving Akira's jaw right into the top of his own head with a sitout jawbreaker!

 

"Willy Wonka's World Famous Jawbreaker!" crows King.

 

"What, are you an OAOASTer now, King?"

 

"No, but, I mean… that's a nice move."

 

Kaibatsu hits the mat, but Szechstein brings him right back to his feet, lifting the Asian to his feet and whipping him into a neutral corner. As he hits the turnbuckle, Calvin musters all of the speed he can and sprints forward, GETTIN' HIGH and catching Kaibatsu with a leaping kick to the face that snaps the young gun's neck back! Calvin grins, grabbing Kaibatsu and lifting him high into the air, in military press position! Malibu, holding a conveniently placed microphone, calls over the P.A.!

 

"The following military press drop is brought to you by MUSIC AND LYRICS, the story of a washed-up teen idol and his young love interest, in theatres everywhere NOW!"

 

*WHAM!*

 

Calvin throws Kaibatsu down to the mat, and quickly makes the cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

KICKOUT! Kaibatsu kicks out, and Calvin, his breathing heavy from the effort of lifting Kaibatsu into the air, lets out a visible sigh before pushing himself back to his feet.

 

"Calvin and Zack are doing what they can right now," Mak says. "Unfortunately… it's not too much."

 

"They are keeping Kaibatsu in the ring, however," King says. "And that, you must admit, is what they need to do."

 

"I don't have to admit anything, but okay, if you say so."

 

Calvin grabs Kaibatsu once more, lifting the Asian to his feet and holding him there for a moment, not quite sure where to go from here. It's well-known that his knowledge of wrestling maneuvers isn't too extensive, and he's forced to resort to what he knows—

 

*WHUMPH!*

 

Elbow to the stomach!

 

*WHUMPH!*

 

And another!

 

*WHUMPH!*

 

*WHUMPH!*

 

And then Calvin grabs Kaibatsu by the arm, lifting the former Cruiserweight champ onto his shoulders and holding him there momentarily, before nodding to the crowd and rolling forward, driving his shoulders into Kaibatsu's midsection! Calvin pops back to his feet, grinning as a chant begins to break out…

 

"CAD—I—LLAC!" *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

"CAD—I—LLAC!" *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

Calvin looks around, a wide smile on his face as he points to the crowd, and the he runs to the ropes quickly, reaching out with an elbow and knocking a scowling Michael Cross straight to the concrete!

 

"Cheap shot from Szechstein!" Mak says. "It didn't take long for Calvin to start being a dick again, did it?"

 

As Cross collects himself in the corner, Kaibatsu slowly pulls himself to his feet—but Szechstein is right there to help him up! He grabs Kaibatsu in a side headlock (have you seen this before?) and brings him over to the Cadillac Boys' corner, throwing him into the turnbuckles before tagging in Zack Malibu! Calvin holds Kaibatsu in the corner as Malibu steps in, and the two of them strike up a conversation.

 

"Hey, Zack, what do you like best about the new Subway sweet onion teriyaki?"

 

"Well, Calvin, I like that it has more MEAT!"

 

*CRACK!* An elbow to the midsection from Malibu!

 

"Really, Zack? I like how it has less FAT!"

 

*CRACK!* This time, an elbow to the face from Szechstein!

 

"More MEAT!"

 

*CRACK!*

 

"Less FAT!"

 

*CRACK!*

 

"More MEAT!"

 

*CRACK!*

 

"Less FAT!"

 

*CRACK!*

 

"Okay, that's enough!" Soapdish steps in, forcing Szechstein out of the ring and saying "It's a FIVE SECOND rule!", but as Szechstein exits and grabs the tag rope… Malibu tags him right back in!

 

"Clever teamwork from the Cadillac Boys," Mak says, "as they know Zack's limitations after his Syndicated match with Sly Sommers, and are adjusting accordingly!"

 

"…mmmmmf."

 

Szechstein steps back into the ring, and both he and Malibu pull Kaibatsu out of the corner, wrapping an arm each around Kaibatsu's head, placing him in a double front facelock before carrying him up and over, dropping him with a double suplex! Szechstein rolls him over onto his stomach, contemplating the pin as Malibu exits the ring, but Calvin then pulls Kaibatsu up and sends him running towards the ropes with a whip. As Kaibatsu bounces off, however, Cross makes the blind tag! Kaibatsu, knowing that he can rest here momentarily, slides under Calvin's legs, popping up behind him! Szechstein whirls around, looking to introduce Kaibatsu to a knuckle sandwich, but he instead gets shoved backwards—and trips over Michael Cross, who is on all fours!

 

Calvin falls flat on his back, and Kaibatsu grins, placing one foot on Mike's back and leaping high into the air, extending his legs straight into Calvin's midsection with a picturesque dropkick! Calvin crumples in pain, and as Kaibatsu rolls out of the ring Cross makes the quick cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE—hold up!" Calvin has a foot on the ropes, much to Cross' chagrin, and Mike looks at referee Soapdish with a look that clearly says he's not too impressed.

 

"Asia Underground using all the tricks in the book, and they're RIGHT back in control of this match!" King says.

 

Cross is already on his feet, waiting for Szechstein to rise up. Calvin eyes Cross, suspicious of the former Cruiserweight champion as he steps to his feet, inviting Cross to bring on THE PAIN! Cross walks towards the pitchman, the two men coldly staring at each other—and then going back to square one, locking up collar-and-elbow style! Cross takes control, wrenching Calvin's left arm, and then hitting him with a stiff knife-edged chop that sends Calvin reeling! Cross senses blood, and stalks after Szechstein, this time catching him with a European uppercut that sends Calvin to the canvas! Cross pulls Szechstein to his feet, this time sending the former OAOAST Champion into the ropes, tucking his head as Calvin rebounds. Szechstein dodges whatever Cross had planned, flipping over Cross and landing on his feet! Cross stands up, turning around and looking for Calvin, who greets Cross with a kick to the stomach! Cross doubles over, affording Szechstein the time to run to the ropes, grabbing Cross' neck on the way back and snapping him to the mat with a swangin' neckbreaker!

 

"Szechstein's showing a lot of poise tonight!"

 

"He can't stay in the ring forever, King…"

 

Szechstein grabs Cross in a front facelock, lifting the four-time tag team champion to his feet and pulling him high into the air, looking to drive him into the mat with a vertical suplex—

 

NOPE! Cross lands on his feet behind Calvin, and drives Calvin towards the ropes, nearly driving him into Zack Malibu! Cross rolls back, holding Calvin in a rolling prawn hold, but Soapdish refuses to count the fall! Calvin lies in the pinfall like a dead fish, grinning, but as Cross' mental count reaches five he gets to his feet, prepared to bitch out Soapdish…

 

…only to get put in a sleeperhold by Zack Malibu! Before Cross can even really fight out, Malibu lets out a mighty roar and sits out, driving the back of Cross' head into the canvas with the Trendsetter!

 

"Trendsetter from Malibu! This could be game over!"

 

Malibu climbs on top of Cross, looking for the pin!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THR—TWO COUNT!" Cross gets a shoulder up! Szechstein is already out of the ring, holding the tag rope, and Malibu quickly tags back out, allowing Szechstein to step into the ring and take over!

 

"Interesting stuff from the Cadillac Boys tonight," says King, "allowing Calvin to work the bulk of the match, while Malibu steps in to drop the hammer every so often!"

 

"Well, it's working so far," says Mak, "but can Calvin hold up?"

 

Calvin grabs Cross and lifts him to his feet, grabbing him in an inverted facelock and quickly snapmaring Iron Mike over. With no hesitation, Calvin steps back and fires…

 

*CRACK!*

 

… and the sound of the kick to Cross' back resonates throughout the arena! Cross lurches forward, grabbing his back in pain, but he's pulled back to his feet by Szechstein, who quickly levels a forearm into Cross' face! Mike backs up a couple of steps, reeling from the blow, and Calvin follows it up with another forearm! And a third! And a fourth! Cross is at the ropes by this point, and Calvin quickly grabs him in a front facelock, bringing him up and over with a vertical suplex, floating over for the pin!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THRE—NO!" Cross kicks out with some authority, and Calvin gets to his feet once more, his energy beginning to fade but still very much in control of the match.

 

"Calvin is all business tonight!" King says. "He came to wrestle and he is WRESTLING."

 

Cross crawls towards his corner, trying to tag in Kaibatsu but falls JUST short, as Calvin, almost toying with Cross, grabs him by the back of the tights and pulls the youngin' back to his feet. Cross tries to turn around and catch Calvin off-guard, but there's no way that's happening, and Calvin makes sure of that by bringing his knee up and smashing it into Michael's stomach, doubling Cross over.

 

Calvin quickly moves in for the kill again, driving a couple of quick knees into Cross' chest, doubling Iron Mike over. Calvin hits the mat, reaching up and slapping Cross in the face! Cross stands straight up, caught off-guard, and Calvin dashes behind him, hitting the ropes and coming back, grabbing Mike by the back of the head and leaping high into the air, driving Mike face-first into the mat!

 

"Royal Crown Rattler!" King yells, "Szechstein is absolutely dominating right now!"

 

"I… I really don't know what to say, King," Mak says.

 

Cross gets to his feet, and Calvin is in a fury, hitting the ropes and looking to annihilate Cross with the big lariat—but before Calvin can even get to Cross, the youngster wisely falls back, tagging to Kaibatsu, who is already poised on the second rope! Szechstein doesn't realize what's about to happen until it's happening, as Kaibatsu springboards over the top rope and sits himself on Calvin's shoulders, whipping the pitchman over with vicious slingshot springboard hurricanrana! Kaibatsu quickly scrambles on top for the pin!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE—NO!"

 

Calvin gets the shoulder up, and the crowd lets out a tentative cheer for the kickout. Kaibatsu gets to his feet, grabbing Szechstein by the hair and lifting him to his feet, trying to get in some offence to take advantage of Calvin's weakened state.

 

"Kaibatsu with a move that involves springboards and slingshots and hurricanranas," Mak says, "and he's in a good position right now, fresh in the ring with a weakened Szechstein!"

 

Kaibatsu steps back after pulling Calvin up, and unloads with a hard roundhouse kick to the stomach, doubling Calvin over. He then bounces off the ropes and snares Calvin’s head in a facelock before using the momentum to swing around, his feet leaving the canvas as he looks to spike Szechstein’s head with a jump swinging DDT! Calvin has other ideas, however, as he shoves the ragin’ Asian away from him…only for Kaibatsu to rush him once again, drilling him with a Yakuza Kick!

 

“Hard shot to the shiller, and Szechstein is down again!”

 

Kaibatsu moves towards his corner, making a tag to Cross, although he doesn’t leave the ring. Instead, he takes hold of the top rope, leaping up to the middle one, and then springboards backwards with a moonsault onto Szechstein. Cross, perched on the apron, waits for his partner to make impact before spring boarding into the ring from the top rope, crashing down onto Calvin Szechstein with a guillotine leg drop that sends the Cadillac Man into convulsions!

 

“An aerial assault at its finest, and Szechstein is in a bad way right now!”

 

Cross hooks a leg, and covers, while Soapdish dives to the canvas for the count.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THR-CRACK~!”

 

The three count is broken up, as Michael Cross rears back, clutching his face after just having been nailed with a hard soccer kick from Zack Malibu! The intense competitor backs away after hitting the one shot that saves his team from defeat, but Akira isn’t happy with it, and charges, using a double leg takedown to get Malibu on his back! Akira struggles with his legs, but Zack kicks off, knocking Akira down so that he’s got a chance to get to his feet. Akira pops up and charges again, but this time Zack sidesteps him and, with the aid of his waistband, launches Akira through the ropes like a lawn dart, out to the floor!

 

“That’s one way to clear a ring!” shouts Francis, as the crowd roars for the popular prep.

 

Speaking of clearing rings, that’s exactly what Cross aims to do as he nails Malibu with a forearm shot from behind, knocking him through the ropes and back out to the apron. Cross mouths off to Malibu, telling him he’s not welcome in SWF rings…but his snide remarks are his undoing, as a recovered Calvin sneaks up behind him, using Rob Feinstein’s favorite wrestling manuever, the schoolboy, to bring him down!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE-NO!” KICKOUT!

 

“Cross got caught off guard, but he wasn’t thrown off quite enough. Asia Underground escapes yet another pinning predicament, and these two teams are really cranking it up here tonight on Storm!”

 

Cross recovers from the near fall, but as he approaches Calvin, he’s rocked with an inverted atomic drop, hard enough that Calvin stumbles back after delivering it! As he falls back, he sticks his arm out, and an eager Malibu tags him in, drawing a tremendous roar of cheers from the crowd!

 

“Yawn.” remarks King, still unimpressed with the OAOAST’s favorite son.

 

Malibu leaps into action, literally, as he jumps to the top rope and then off of it, catching the stunned Cross with a missle dropkick! Cross does a backwards roll, landing face first on the canvas, but it’s not for long, as Malibu brings him to his feet! Cross is dazed as Malibu delivers two hard open hand slaps, one to each side of his face, then spins around and cracks Cross in the cheekbone with a roaring elbow! Cross goes down, and Malibu turns around…ONLY TO GET CRACKED WITH A SUPERKICK FROM AKIRA~!

 

“Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!”

 

Malibu falls, then rolls to his feet, slowly getting up, his face red with anger. Akira, celebrating and taunting a crowd who fires back with curse words and one-finger salutes, doesn’t notice the former World Champion standing on his feet, until Szechstein points out that he just might want to turn around.

 

CRACK~!

 

SCHOOL’S OUT ON AKIRA KAIBATSU~!

“Looks like Malibu had to show him how it’s done!”

 

Akira once again topples through the ropes and out to the floor, victimized by the OAOAST poster boy’s patented super kick. Malibu, worked up now, backs away…but as Soapdish surveys the damage, he misses Cross coming from behind with a low blow on Malibu, and then rolling him over into a small package!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

WAIT! Calvin rushes in, and rolls their bodies over so that Malibu has Cross pinned! Soapdish starts to count, then realizes what’s just happened as soon as he counts to 1. He gets up and chastises Calvin, telling him to get out of the ring and not mess with the pinfalls. Calvin, trying hard not to laugh in the official’s face, playfully begs for mercy, while Cross kicks out of the “pinfall”. As they get to their feet, Malibu charges, hitting a running kick to HIS nether regions, and if you look out into the crowd, several fans leap to their feet, making the field goal motion.

 

“It’s good!” shouts Francis, getting into the action, as King audibly groans into the mic.

 

Cross staggers, but Malibu catches him before he falls, hoisting him upside down while cradling his leg…

 

…and then SPIKING him with the POP DROP Fisherman’s Buster~!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

The bell sounds, and it’s over! Malibu gets to his feet, as an elated Calvin comes into the ring and hugs his partner, scooping him off his feet momentarily before the look on Zack’s face outright says “put me down”.

 

“Your winners, the team of Zack Malibu and Calvin Szechstein, THE CADILLAAAAAAAAAC BOOOOOOOOOOYSSSS~!”

 

Funyon’s announcement is music to everyone’s ears, as Malibu and Szechstein give each other their well-deserved props after having their hands raised by Nick Soapdish.

 

“Like a rubber ball, they’re bouncing back. Some say their out of their element, some say that they’re not SWF material, but like it or not, the Cadillac Boys have just scored a big win here on Storm!”

“One team rises, and another falls. Asia Underground is going to have to work their way from the ground up after this one, and the car salesman and the male model get a win. What kind of world is this, Francis? Is this what the SWF has become? Reliant on the leftovers of our low-rate competition?”

 

“Leftovers? King, they’re former World Champions. In a month’s time, Zack could be there World Champion once again!”

 

“Let’s hope so.”

 

“King, I’m sorry, but did you actually just wish Zack Malibu good luck in his efforts to capture the OAOAST Championship once again?”

 

“Damn right I did. It might be the one thing that keeps him off our show and out of my sight!”

 

“King, you’re one of a kind.”

 

 

A camera shot of Michael Cross and Akira Kaibatsu, helping each other to the back and looking extremely disgusted with tonight’s result flickers across the screen. We then cut over to the Cadillac Boys, raising their arms in the aisle way and soaking in the claps and cheers of the fans. As the announce duo continue their Grumpy Old Men style bickering, the winning team heads to the back, having regained some momentum and focus as they try to make it to the top of the SWF’s tag team division.

[Ace309 0]

Storm returns from a commercial for Ace Lezaire's Discount Narwhal Warehouse: "You want a cheap narwhal? Head to your local Ace Lezaire's Discount Narwhal Warehouse, with new stores opening in Topeka, Kansas; Barcelona, Spain; Ogden, Utah; Pretoria, South Africa; and Long Island, New York!", and liquored up camera man Jamie Drazon spins his machine around the arena, containing his vomit, and displaying Mak Francis and Suicide King.

 

"Welcome back to Storm, live from Victoria, British Columbia, where we're about to see the first of three titles defended," Mak says.

 

"I don't understand this, Mak. Victoria? That's a woman's name, so how in the hell can there be such violent action? This night should be nothing but whore contests, with me as the impartial judge," King says.

 

"Well, regardless of your own contorted views, Jimmy the Doom is defending his Hardcore title against Zyon, and this should be a great contest. Both men have been rolling, though Jimmy did face a setback last week when he and former-adversary-turned-temporary-teammate Insane Luchador were beaten by the nigh-unstoppable Asia Underground. However, in the realm of singles competition, both men have gone quite some time since facing defeat," Mak says.

 

"Are you done yet? The damn show is nearly over," King says.

 

King is a bit off, as the arena blacks out, with the SmarkTron providing the only illumination. A trio of very familiar statements pulse on the giant screen:

 

I'M BORN!

 

 

 

I'M ALIVE!

 

 

 

I BREATHE!

 

The lights return in time with Incubus' "Vitamin" blaring over the speakers. After a few seconds to allow the song to really get going, Zyon appears on the stage, ladder at his side.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall in the Hardcore division with the title on the line! Introducing first, the challenger: He weighs in tonight at two hundred pounds even, and stands five feet, eleven inches. Hailing from Elkhart, Indiana, the Unique Youth, ZZZZZYYYYYYYYONNN!" Funyon roars.

 

Young Zak Owens looks around the stadium, then tips his ladder over and jumps on top. Zyon slides down the ramp, and seconds before impact, he leaps, snaring the top rope. The Unique Youth vaults into the ring and springs onto the second turnbuckle, arms spread to better soak in the cacophony of cheers (And smattering of jeers).

 

"It looks like Zyon has no qualms about this hardcore environment. I'm interested to see if he can use his tremendous speed to overpower Jimmy and his legendary toughness," Mak says.

 

"I doubt it, Mak. If anything, a strong man would be able to wear Doom down, and that Straight-Bread idiot has survived the likes of Nemesis and The Crimson Skull," King points out.

 

"True, but I can see Zyon possibly overwhelming Jimmy with rapid-fire attacks," Mak says.

 

The lights dim yet again, and the sound of marching feet pounds through the arena, followed by chanting voices.

 

"DOOM!"

 

 

"DOOM!"

 

 

"DOOM!"

 

 

"DOOM!"

 

 

"DOOM!"

 

 

"DOOM!"

 

Just as thousands of eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, the brilliantly bright lights snap back on. The ensuing temporary blindness prevents anything but the cameras to pick up Jimmy the Doom and Lois the Unethical's appearance at the top of the stage as "Yakety Sax", courtesy of Boots Randolph, blares.

 

"And his opponent, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical: He stands six feet, five inches and weighs two hundred, thirty pounds. From Doomopolis, Doomtopia, he is the longest reigning Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJJJIIIIIIMMMMMYYYYY THE DOOOOOOOOOOM!" Funyon booms.

 

Doom saunters down the ramp, taking time to toss dinner rolls into the crowd while Lois keeps three paces behind her man. Jimmy empties his bread bag and walks around the ring, not wishing to clamber over the ladder. Zyon springs for the ropes as Doom squeezes past a particularly hefty druid, and the Unique Youth flies over the top and into Jimmy (Who, in turn, crashes into a fat man wearing a hooded cloak).

 

GABARDINE!

 

Referee Rockford McPunchington considers berating Zyon for starting before the bell, but decides there's no point in a hardcore match.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"Zyon hit an excellent plancha, albeit before the bell," Mak says.

 

"So? For one, it's a Hardcore title match, so who cares, and two, it was before the bell, so the match, which doesn't have any rules to begin with, hadn't even started," King says.

 

Zyon scrambles to his feet and backs away from the champ, letting Jimmy rise on his own. The Straight-Breader stands up, and Zak knocks him backwards and over the guardrail with a front dropkick. Zyon kips up, races for the railing, and vaults on top. The Unique Youth steadies for a brief moment, then flings himself at Jimmy, snapping the champ into the ground with a neckbreaker.

 

"Nice dropkick followed by a Blockbuster neckbreaker as Zyon takes this fight into the crowd," Mak says.

 

"And being that this is Canada, there's no telling what kind of stuff these fans have," King says.

 

"What, like moose antlers?" Mak asks.

 

"No, more like small pox and polio," King replies.

 

McPunchington exits the ring, but stays out of the crowd as he tries to remain close enough to call the match, but keep far enough back to be out of harm's way. Zyon pops to his feet and snatches a chair up from a fan.

 

"You know, we really should think about using rows of seats that are bolted down like in every other sporting event," Mak says.

 

"Yeah, but then we'd miss out on great stuff like what's surely about to happen to Jimmy the Doom," King says.

 

The Unique Youth folds the chair in half with a snap, wheels around, and slams it into Doom's forehead.

 

GADDER!

 

Owens raises the chair and brings it down a second time, but Jimmy rolls out of the way. As reverberations pulse through his hands, Zyon drops the weapon and backpedals. The Straight-Breader clambers to his feet and nails his opponent with a shotei to the chest. Zyon shakes his hands loose and dips under a high kick aimed for his head. The Hardcore champ stalks the challenger, trying desperately to connect with jabs and palm thrusts, but Zyon bobs and weaves out of the way. Doom lunges forward with a wild right hook that Zyon easily avoids, and Jimmy pays the price in the form of a dropkick to the ribs. Zyon remains on his back and kicks at Doom's legs, trying to topple the Straight-Bread Sensation. Jimmy catches the Unique Youth's upkick and lashes out with a heel stomp to Zak's stomach.

 

"That should take some wind of out Zyon's sails, and as any sailor knows, there's no speed without wind," Mak says.

 

"Unless Zyon has a nuclear engine of some kind," King offers.

 

"He's no Fallout," Mak says.

 

"Yeah, anyway, Zyon was doing well by countering Jimmy's attacks with speed, but he fell into trouble by not scurrying away after that dropkick," King says.

 

Doom lifts Zyon off the ground and whips him into the crowd barrier. Jimmy races for the wheezing youngster, and leaps, only to get blasted with a wheel kick.

 

GALVANIC!

 

"Just like you said, King, Zyon used his speed to counter Doom's flying snap kick with a beautiful spinning wheel kick," Mak says.

 

"Exactly. It's just that easy when you're that fast," King says.

 

"What are you talking about? You've never been thought of as a speedster," Mak says.

 

"Quicker than you, Rampy," King says.

 

Zyon pulls himself on top of the barrier and soars towards the Doomtopian, taking care to wrap himself in a ball for ease of delivery. Moments before impact, the Unique Youth uncurls and drives both knees into Jimmy's chest, remaining on top of the champ for a cover. Rockford quickly scrambles over the guardrail to count the pin.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

T-No!

 

"Shoulder up from Jimmy after that Cannonball Kamikaze," Mak says.

 

"I'm kind of shocked that Zyon was able to hit it at all. I figured Jimmy would be fresh enough to roll away," King says.

 

"Well, a chairshot slows everyone, at least a little bit," Mak points out.

 

Zyon thinks about pulling Doom up, but decides to ascend the barricade yet again, this time for a moonsault. Owens drops his paltry two hundred pound frame on the Straight-Bread Sensation, but opts out of another pinning predicament. Zyon gets to his feet and tracks down his dropped chair. The Unique Youth leans on the battered piece of furniture, waiting for Jimmy to rise. It doesn't take long for the champ to oblige the challenger, and Zyon races for the Doomtopian, chair held aloft. Zak hurls the chair at Jimmy and leaps seconds after, absolutely burying both feet in the Straight-Breader's gut and knocking him into the crowd barrier. The chair simply clatters to the floor, it's job as a decoy performed to the highest of Zyon's expectations.

 

GALVANOMETER!

 

"That was a great dropkick by Zyon, and very clever of him to fake with the chair," Mak says.

 

"Perfect bait-and-switch, though it would have been nice if he could have beaned Jimmy with the chair as well," King says.

 

The Unique Youth pops to his feet and retrieves the chair. Zyon pulls Jimmy into a proper sitting position and slams the chair into the champ's head.

 

GAMIN!

 

"Ooh! Absolutely sickening sound from that chairshot," Mak says.

 

"Doom's head had nowhere to go, propped up against the barricade like that, and I'm no physicist, but I think that makes it hurt worse," King says.

 

Zyon drags Doom away from the barrier and violently throws the chair down on the Straight-Bread Sensation's chest.

 

GENUFLECT!

 

The Unique Youth drops down on top of Jimmy and hooks his far leg.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two-No!

 

"Doom gets the shoulder up again. He certainly is one tough man to put down," Mak says.

 

"I attribute that entirely to his weirdness. Hell, he could read a monologue and use it as a submission move," King says. "Or at least distract an opponent with his garbled words so he can hit the guy with a badger or whatever the hell he'd use."

 

With his options in the stands wearing thin, Zyon drags the champ to his feet and shoves him over the railing. Zyon springs over and smashes into Jimmy with an elbow drop to the back. The Unique Youth picks Doom up again and rolls him inside the ring before clambering onto the apron himself. Zak waits on the Straight-Breader, and as soon as he rises, Owens springs to the top rope and flies towards him. Zyon plants both legs on Doom's shoulders, but Jimmy plants both hands on Zak's neck, then plants the Indiana-native into the mat with a sit-out powerbomb. McPunchington slides into the ring to administer the count.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Tw-No!

 

"And Zyon kicks out after that Jimmy Bomb. He was very lucky, King, that his attempted hurricanrana didn't end any worse for him," Mak says.

 

"Not that getting driven into the canvas from about seven feet in the air is good, of course," King says.

 

Doom shoves the Unique Youth away and stands up, trying to devise a strategy to neutralize the speedy challenger. Jimmy hauls Zyon to his feet and pops him with a shotei to the jaw. The Doomtopian cracks Zyon with another palm before rocketing him into the ropes. Jimmy races after Zyon and leaps, knocking the smaller Youth down with a flying body scissors. Rather than wrap his arms around Zyon's chest to complete the illusion of a hug, Doom clamps on a head vice, confident that he can drain the challenger's energy in a matter of moments.

 

"And now would be a good time for an extended commercial break," King says.

 

"You know, I would really be interested to see how long it would take someone to submit to that little combination," Mak says.

 

"The sun won't last long enough to find that out, Mak," King says.

 

Rockford apparently isn't aware of the utter uselessness of Jimmy's hold, so he makes sure that Zyon is willing to continue the match. The Youth ignores the referee, and instead begins hammering Doom with punches. The Straight-Breader is reluctant to give up his hold, even as blows pepper his head and chest.

 

"See, Mak? That thing Jimmy's using is about as useful as you owning roller skates. It's practically a hug! My grandmother can hug, and she sure as hell shouldn't be inside a wrestling ring," King says.

 

"Perhaps, King, but the fact is that Zyon has yet to escape the modified hug, and he's expending a bit of energy in his attempt, so if nothing else, it's wearing the Unique Youth down a bit," Mak points out.

 

"It's a fucking hug! Anybody that loses to a fucking hug needs to be fired and then killed," King says.

 

Rockford checks on Zyon again, but the challenger is busy on a new escape plan. Using his slender build, the Unique Youth pushes against Doom's arms and manages to slip his head free of the vice. Now, Zyon is simply mounted, leaving him open to a stiff shotei, followed by a vicious headbutt.

 

GEODETIC!

 

Jimmy slides forward and tries to slip his right leg under Zyon's shoulders. However, even with his less-than-stellar submission skills, the Youth sees the triangle coming a mile away, and scrambles out from under Doom's legs.

 

"Jimmy was going for a triangle choke, a move Zyon has been known to use, and that knowledge allowed the challenger to escape unscathed," Mak says.

 

"From the choke, but not that headbutt. Another one of those and Zyon might have a broken nose in his future," King says.

 

Doom allows Zyon to gain a vertical base before nailing him with a head kick. Jimmy fakes another head kick and plasters the Youth with an uppercut. Zyon staggers right into an Irish whip to the corner. The Doomtopian takes aim and sprints towards Zyon, slapping on a side headlock and dumping the challenger in the middle of the ring.

 

"Jim-Me, phone home," Mak croaks.

 

"Oh no, you don't get off that easy, Mak. You've gotta say the whole thing," King gloats.

 

"Doom with that trademark 73.5267.1094Q80.16," Mak says.

 

Jimmy yanks Zyon up by the hair and lays into him with a shotei to the jaw, then another to the chest. Doom grabs the Youth's right arm and twists it.

 

"It looks like the end is nigh for Zyon, King. Jimmy might be going for Doomsday," Mak says.

 

"He's got to hit it first, and we saw the problems he had with it against Insane Luchador a while back," King says.

 

"True, but Zyon has only squared off against Doom once before, in the Lethal Lottery, to my recollection," Mak says.

 

"Don't you ever speak that vile name! It is a curse, and by uttering its name, you give it power," King says.

 

Jimmy stretches Zyon's arm as far as it can go before twisting around, but the Youth lunges forward, smashing a knee into Doom's chest.

 

GEOSYNCLINE!

 

"Ansatsuken Knee from the Unique Youth! Zyon couldn't quite reach Doom's head as it usually goes down, but he avoided that spinning back kick and appears to have escaped Doomsday," Mak says.

 

"He's not out of danger yet, Mak. Jimmy can withstand a lot of punishment, and Zyon hasn't really shown that," King says.

 

The challenger darts in, slaps on a cravat, and pulls Doom forward. The Straight-Bread Sensation snakes his arm up and jabs Zyon in the neck, stopping the Youth in his tracks. Jimmy slaps on an inverted facelock, snares Zak's leg, and drives the youngster into the mat.

 

GERMINAL!

 

"Zyon was so close to hitting the Big Shot, but a Hand of Doom put the kibosh on that. Now, Jimmy has regained control with a swift Doom Driver," Mak says.

 

Jimmy slides around and makes a lateral press.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thr-No!

 

"Only a near fall for the champ. Zyon's got some fight left in him, but it doesn't look like he'll be able to survive for much longer," Mak says.

 

"Perhaps, but Wes Davenport proved that the slightest mistake can result in defeat," King says.

 

"I'm surprised he never won as a result of a sneeze or a blink," Mak says.

 

The Doomtopian gets up and pulls Zyon to his feet as well. Jimmy nails him with a shotei, then whips Owens into the far ropes. Jim bounces off the adjacent ropes and grabs Zyon in a side waistlock. Doom switches to a rear, but his opponent throws on a cravat. The champ wrenches his head free and slings Zyon across the ring.

 

"Zyon almost had the Big Shot again in the midst of that Jimmy-Plex, but Doom managed to free himself, and rather than bother with driving the Unique Youth into the mat, Jimmy simply tossed him down," Mak says.

 

"Makes sense to not risk getting hit with another dangerous move when you're in control of the match," King says.

 

Jimmy stretches for a moment before raising his right leg and hold his arms out to the side.

 

"Yak Kick time. With such an obvious set-up, I doubt Doom will be able to hit it," Mak says.

 

"He barely hits it even when he pulls it out of the blue," King says.

 

Doom waits as Zyon picks himself off the canvas. Zak shakes his head clear and decides to humor Jimmy by running at the champ. As the Youth closes in, he lifts his leg and leaps, just as the Straight-Breader leaves his foot. Zyon smashes into the airborne Doomtopian's chest, knocking him down and out of the ring.

 

GERONTOLOGIST!

 

"As predicted, Jimmy was unable to hit the Yak kick, but Zyon nailed the champ with a lunging Yakuza kick," Mak says.

 

"Not as good as say, Tom Flesher's, but decent enough for a little runt like Zyon. He did manage to send Doom out of the ring," King says.

 

Zyon backs to the far ropes and runs towards the rising Doomtopian. The Youth grabs the top turnbuckle, but rather than vault over, he slides under the bottom strand, nailing Jimmy with a dropkick.

 

GIMBAL!

 

"Zyon with another nice fake. This time, he tricked Doom, as well as myself, into thinking he was going for a plancha, but instead just blasted Jimmy with a baseball slide dropkick," Mak says.

 

"If he keeps this up, he might actually win," King says.

 

The challenger pulls himself onto the apron, and climbs to the top turnbuckle. Without risking a backwards glance at the Straight-Bread Sensation, Zyon leaps, spinning around and landing on Doom. Zyon scrambles over and makes a lateral press.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thre-No!

 

"Zyon almost got the three count after No Regard, but Jimmy popped his shoulders up just in time," Mak says.

 

"Maybe he should have went for the Final Flash instead, that's got a bit more pop to it," King says.

 

Zyon gets up, pulls Doom off the ground, and whips him into the stairs.

 

GIMCRACKERY!

 

The Youth charges forward and slams into Doom with a front dropkick, dislodging the stairs from the ring.

 

GLASNOST!

 

Zyon drags the Straight-Breader away from the steps and towards the seemingly forgotten ladder. Zyon boots Jimmy in the gut, scoops him up, and drives the champ into the ladder.

 

GLOSSOLALIA!

 

"Aero Driver on a ladder from Zyon! That could very well win him the Hardcore title," Mak says.

 

"And if it doesn't, then I think Zyon is screwed, since I don't know of anything else he could do," King says.

 

The Unique Youth doesn't apply a cover, though. Instead, he pulls Doom off the ladder, and shoves it inside the ring. Zak looks under the ring and slides out a table.

 

"It looks like Zyon's thought of something else he can do," Mak says.

 

"Excellent. This is going to end badly for someone, and I'm not too concerned with who," King says.

 

Zyon sets the table up and places a nearly unconscious Straight-Bread Sensation on top. The challenger pops Jimmy with a parting punch to the head, then climbs inside the ring. Zyon picks the ladder up and spreads its legs. The Youth climbs to the very top, blatantly ignoring the 'This is not a step' warning. Owens steadies himself, looks down at Jimmy, and then jumps. Zyon goes into a nosedive, then slowly turns to the proper attack angle. As the Unique Youth zeroes in on him, the champ rolls off the table, gladly taking a minor fall over having two hundred pounds slam into, and then drive him through the table to the floor.

 

GORMANDIZE!

 

"Jimmy moved, and Zyon might have just sealed his fate after missing the Final Flash!" Mak shouts.

 

"Well, considering it was off a ladder that was inside the ring, and he went through a table outside the ring, I doubt Doom would be able to kick out after that," King says.

 

Jimmy crawls up and drapes an arm across Zyon's chest as Rockford slides out to make the count.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJJIIIIMMMMMYYYYY THE DOOOOOOOOOOM!" Funyon bellows.

 

Lois the Unethical grabs the belt and walks to her husband, helping Doom to his feet. McPunchington raises Jimmy's arms as "Yakety Sax" plays again and the Panic Ogre wraps the title around the Straight-Breader's waist.

 

"What an amazing match. Jimmy the Doom retains his belt in spectacular fashion once again, but the awesome force that is MANSON is bearing down on the champ," Mak says.

 

"Don't lie, Mak. Doom didn't win this match, Zyon lost it. He probably could have got the three count after the Aero Driver, but he took a big risk and it came back to bite him," King says.

 

"I concede that point to you, King, simply because I'd rather not argue when even more gold is set to be defended tonight. Two Skinny White Guys defend their Tag titles against the always-successful Wild and Dangerous, and then, the main event features Alan Clark challenging for Gabe Drake's World title," Mak says.

 

"Would it be okay if I just took a bathroom break during the tag match? I don't want to sit through a match with four people I can't stand," King says.

 

"Sorry, no dice. You've got to stick around or you won't get paid," Mak says.

 

Officials check on Zyon's condition as Jimmy, with Lois' assistance, staggers up the ramp and Storm fades to a commercial for the Exploding Chicken/TNT two-pack DVD, "Cluck, Cluck, Bang, Bang!"

[Ace309 0]

"Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon booms, "the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the SWF Tag Team Titles!"

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Yes folks," Mak Francis confirms as 'Party To Damascus' by Wyclef Jean starts up and the crowd's positive response increases, "we've reached the second of our three title matches on tonight's edition of Storm! Still to come we have Gabriel Drake defending the World Title against International Champion Alan Clark, but first up it's-"

 

"Two morons taking on another moron and the guy Clark beat last week," King cuts in, "let's not dress this up, Mak."

 

"And they tell me ratings are down," Francis sighs.

 

However, despite the bickering of the commentary team the fans in attendance are showing their appreciation as two familiar figures make their way out onto the entrance ramp; one with his thin braids bouncing as he hops from foot to foot, warming up, and the other with his hair slicked back and grinning at the ladies in the crowd.

 

"Introducing first, the challengers;" Funyon announces, "they weigh in at a combined weight of 442lbs and are four-time former Tag Team Champions... WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILD... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNND... DAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNN-GEROUSSSSSSSSSSSS!!"

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Wildchild and Johnny run down to the ring, the Barracuda opting to dive straight under the ropes into the squared circle while Wildchild makes a full circuit, slapping hands with the fans as he goes, then leaps in over the bottom rop and rolls up to his feet. Once inside the Bahaman undoes his Cruiserweight Title and hands it over to referee Ronald 'Red' Herrington, then performs a few more stretches for the benefit of his already-limber frame.

 

"Wild & Dangerous have held the tag team belts more times than any other team," Mak Francis points out, "and have held the belts for a longer time in total than anyone else... but they do not hold the record for the longest Tag Title reign anymore. That record belongs to the defending champions, but you can bet that Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous want to take their first step on the road to beating that record tonight!"

 

"Mak, I'm conflicted here," King moans, "I can't stand these two, but I can't stand their opponents either... well, Toxxic's a bit better than Maddix, but he just lost to the Disney freak, how can I take him seriously now?"

 

"You could try calling it objectively," Francis suggests, but without much hope.

 

"I always do," the Gambling Man sniffs, "the object being to make fun of anyone I don't like."

 

It's at this point that the commentary duo are interrupted by a bouncing bassline straight out of the 80s. But not just any part of the 80s, oh no... no, from the part of the 80s that dealt with children's cartoons. Because what comes thumping out of the speakers, magnified beyond all normal volumes, is the theme tune from the closing credits of The Raccoons!

 

'When darkness falls

Leaving shadows in the night

Don't be afraid

And wipe that fear from your eyes...'

 

"Peters' iPod shuffled onto this?" Mak asks in surprise, looking up.

 

"Figures, the guy's immature enough," King shrugs.

 

'When desperate lo-ove

Keeps on driving you wrong

Don't be afraid

You're not alone…'

 

"Don't be Cyril Sneer, King," Mak chides his commentary partner.

 

'You can run with us!

We've got everything you nee-ee-eed!

Run with us!

We are free!'

 

…and as the chorus hits, out come the reigning champions! Landon Maddix, flanked by Megan Skye and flipping his hair back from his forehead, seems in good spirits with his belt around his waist. However, his tag team partner doesn't seem in such sunny spirits; Michael Stephens, with his sister in tow, is scowling as he strides down towards the ring and not even the happy memories of the childhood cartoon seem to be able to turn that around.

 

"And their opponents," Funyon booms, "at a combined weight of 426lbs; they are the reigning and defending SWF Tag Team Champions… THAAAA… GA-LAC-TICOOOOOSSSSSSS!!"

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

'Come with us!

I see passion in your ey-e-e-s!

Run with us!'

 

Maddix hops up to the apron then, with Megan holding the ropes, twirls into the ring like the showman that he is. Meanwhile Amy doesn't bother even approaching the ring, instead sitting on a chair and cracking open her can of Stella Artois while her brother slides into the ring, pulls off his trenchcoat like it's offended him and slings it back over the ropes before undoing his title belt and tossing it to the referee.

 

"Michael Stephens… doesn't look happy," Mak notes.

 

"Can you blame him?" King asks, "he just lost his record of winning in any title match in which he was the challenger… and more importantly, he lost to the Disney freak, Alan Clark. Guess it brings back memories of the early days."

 

Red Herrington takes the Tag Titles and shows them to all four corners of the arena, then motions that he's ready for the match to start. Johnny instantly steps out to the apron, leaving Wildchild in to start the match for their team; meanwhile Landon and the sullen Stephens play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. Landon scores by wrapping Stephens' clenched fist (which he acts out with a grin), then turns to face the Bahaman.

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

"LET'S GO LAN-DON!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Landon grins at the fans as they chant his name; Wildchild isn't going to be distracted by the support and simply circles his opponent warily, then dashes in. Maddix is a split-second too slow on the reaction and Wildchild snares his unwary opponent by the arm, then brings him over with an armdrag! Maddix rolls up to his feet and returns the favour by armdragging Wildchild right back, but as WC goes for a reply of his own La Cucaracha steps back at the last second and Wildchild just falls to the canvas, snatching at thin air!

 

"LET'S GO LAN-DON!"

 

Maddix laughs, turning away and tapping his forehead to indicate to his loving fans just how smart he is… which apparently isn't very, as he ignores Wildchild long enough for the Human Hurricane to kip up and armdrag him as he turns around again!

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Wildchild is quicker up that Landon and follows in with a punch to Maddix's jaw; not very hard, but hard enough to throw the defending champion off for a moment before Wildchild Irish whips him across the ring, then throws himself down towards Landon's feet. Landon easily hurdles the Bahaman as he rebounds off the ropes, but when he hits and returns off the far cables his reactions aren't up to dodging the dropkick that Wildchild has leapt up to deliver!

 

*SMACK!*

 

Wildchild pops back up to his feet and now takes half a second to acknowledge the fans' support. Maddix has his own way of dealing with current events; namely, rolling to the corner where Michael Stephens is waiting and reaching up to tag in his partner. Stephens grabs the top rope in both hands and vaults lightly into the ring, then cracks his neck from side-to-side.

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…"

 

The warring chants ring around the University of Victoria as Wildchild's dark eyes lock with the steel-grey ones of his English opponent. The two men spiral in towards each other, each looking for an opening; Wildchild makes a grab for his opponent's arm, perhaps looking for another armdrag, but Stephens pulls back to avoid it and for his part Dub-Cee manages to avoid falling down this time. With his opponent wise to this approach Wildchild seems to resign himself to a more conventional way of opening things and the two cautiously approach each other with their arms raised for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. They come together, but rather than trying to work what might be a slight strength advantage Stephens twists out and behind his opponent with a hammerlock, then slaps Wildchild in the back of the head to push him away!

 

"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH…!"

 

"Hey!" Mak says as Wildchild looks around, disbelief on his face, "did he just do that?"

 

"Nice," King says, "these morons cheered when he did it to Clark, but do you hear any cheers now Francis?"

 

Wildchild just looks at Stephens, astounded that he's just been treated in such a disrespectful manner by his opponent; Stephens just stands there in a manner that might be interpreted as insolent, a bored expression on his face, then twitches a couple of black-nailed fingers to invite Wildchild to get on with it. The Bahaman's face settles into a stony expression and he advances again, the two men locking up once more-

 

'Oof!'

 

-but this time Stephens simply slams his knee up into Wildchild's gut, then-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-delivers a European uppercut that flattens his opponent!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Stephens reaches down and grabs Wildchild, then hauls the Bahaman to his feet; to be fair Wildchild was getting there under his own steam, but somewhere he certainly wasn't intending to get to was the steel ringpost - however, Michael Stephens sends him there at full-speed, and shoulder-first at that!

 

*CRACK!*

 

"I heard that!" Mak Francis shouts, "and that's the same shoulder that kept Wildchild away from the SWF after Mike Van Siclen damaged it! Stephens isn't pulling any punches in the early going here!"

 

'C'mon Nic!' Johnny shouts from the apron. Whether or not he's expecting an immediate reaction from his tag partner is unclear; however, he gets an immediate reaction from his opponent!

 

'Shut yer mouth, sunshine!' Stephens snaps, loud enough to be heard by the ring mics and rounding on Johnny to point at him. Dangerous's eyebrows raise in surprise at this aggressive behaviour from the man who's been - for him - fairly restrained and polite for the last several months.

 

"Well, Johnny Dangerous and Michael Stephens have never really seen eye-to-eye," Mak Francis notes, "not since they traded World Title wins in 2004..."

 

Stephens takes hold of WC's tights and pulls him back out from between the turnbuckles, then delivers a left hand that staggers Wildchild along the ring ropes to roughly the middle. With his opponent handily repositioned Mike grabs the Bahaman's wrist and Irish whips him across the ring; Wildchild rebounds off the far ropes as planned, but he ducks the spinning wheel kick that Stephens aims and him and continues on to the cables he started from! Stephens manages to keep his balance and lands on his feet, but he's not quick enough to then dodge the leg lariat that Wildchild launches at him, catching him on the throat and toppling him backwards to the mat!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Wildchild gets back up to his feet almost immediately (although he rubs at his shoulder briefly), but instead of following up himself he shows the sort of awareness that made him and Johnny four-time champions and tags his completely fresh partner into the match.

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

Michael Stephens gets back up to his feet as Dangerous steps into the ring, but that doesn't worry Johnny at all; however, instead of initiating any offensive moves the Barracuda simply marches up to his longtime opponent and demands what the hell Stephens thought he was doing with Wildchild! Stephens is rarely in any mood to explain himself, least of all now, and he proceeds to tell Johnny exactly what he can do with himself… which is more than Dangerous can take, and he shoves Stephens in the chest!

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Stephens is knocked back a step, but he simply lashes out and catches the Secret Agent a ringing open-handed slap on the jaw!

 

*SMACK!*

 

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Johnny grabs at his jaw, but his eyes narrow and with the hostilities well and truly opened he fires a kick directed at the Englishman's ribs… but Stephens catches it, then deftly hooks his right leg behind Johnny's left and hooks it away to dump the Barracuda down to the mat! Johnny tries an upwards kick to catch Stephens off-guard but the Tag Champion isn't trying to get down into a mount position, instead taking hold of the leg he still has trapped under his left arm and hauling Dangerous backwards across the ring towards the Galacticos' corner where he reaches out to tag Landon Maddix. Johnny is dragged into position as Landon grabs the top rope then leaps up…

 

…twists in midair to come down onto the second rope inside the ring…

 

…and backflips off to land on Johnny with an inch-perfect quebrada!

 

*BANG!*

 

Herrington dives for a count as Stephens steps out through the ropes…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Johnny kicks out well before three, winded but nowhere near defeated! Maddix reckons he has the answer to that however, and he pulls Johnny up to a sitting position by his head, then drives a stiff kick into the base of his opponent's spine!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Johnny's face twists into contours of agony as the blow lands, but Landon isn't done and La Cucaracha fires off another Dragon Kick-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-before taking Johnny's head in both hands and somersaulting over the Barracuda from behind, pulling him down into a painful neck snap!

 

"LET'S GO LAN-DON!"

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

Johnny whiplashes back, then collapses sideways clutching at his neck. Landon gets to his feet, waves at his fans, then starts to pull Dangerous up again. He twists in an armwringer on the luckless Vegas native, then reaches out to tag Michael Stephens. The Englishman starts to climb to the top rope and Landon kicks Johnny in the gut to double him over before stepping over the trapped arm. Stephens nods to signal that he's ready and Landon kicks back and up to take the bent-over Dangerous in the face with the ¡Buenas Noches!, then Stephens comes off the top rope with a somersault double stomp onto the Barracuda!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Johnny doubles up and clutches at his ribs, but Stephens doesn't give him any chance to recuperate and instead drops down to make a cover, ensuring to hook the leg as he does so. Red Herrington obliges and starts the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Johnny kicks out again! Stephens doesn't seem that bothered by his opponent's resilience however and takes hold of Johnny's head to haul the Barracuda back to his feet, then traps Dangerous in a front facelock.

 

"It looks like Stephens might be about to try and wrap up some Unfinished Business…" Mak comments as the Englishman extends his right arm out to the side, but as Stephens whips the arm around and down Johnny manages to pull back a fraction, then tucks his head under Stephens' left arm and hoists upwards as the champion's off-balance…

 

"MI Slam!" Mak shouts…

 

…but he's wrong, as Stephens recovers himself in time to counter into an armdrag!

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

"TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…"

 

Johnny goes tumbling across the ring but the Barracuda is back up in a second, determined not to let his chance slip away. He has to go down again a moment later, albeit only to duck a Stephens clothesline, but as Mike whirls around Dangerous catches him with a boot to the gut, then hooks his opponent into a front facelock. Before Stephens can react Johnny throws the Englishman's arm over his neck, then grabs the waist of Stephens' pants and hoists up… and over!

 

*BANG!*

 

The vertical suplex hits but Johnny doesn't release his hold, instead rolling his hips and pulling Stephens back to his feet. Mike tries to sandbag but Dangerous is determined and drags him up, then sets himself again…

 

*BANG!*

 

"Michael Stephens took three of these from Alan Clark a couple of weeks ago," Mak Francis reminds viewers, "he won that match, but can he manage the same here tonight?"

 

"So Johnny's ripping off Clark?" King asks as Dangerous starts rolling back up to his feet for the third vertical, "yeah, that figures."

 

Despite the Gambling Man's derision, Johnny Dangerous plants his feet to bring Michael Stephens over for the third suplex in the series-

 

*BANG!*

 

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

-and gets a cheer from the crowd! Stephens lies on the mat clutching at his back and Johnny rolls to his corner where he tags his partner; Wildchild hops up to the top rope in one fluid motion before coming off with a fistdrop targeted right onto Stephens' forehead, then covers…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Stephens kicks out!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…"

 

Wildchild doesn't seem too distressed at the lack of a three-count, but the Bahaman seems eager to get some revenge on the man who roughed him up a little earlier and hauls Stephens back to his feet before hooking him into a front facelock. Then he gives Johnny a thumbs-up and throws Stephens' arm around his neck before grabbing the waist of his opponent's pants and lifting…

 

"Oh no, don't say he's doing three as well," King groans.

 

…but no, Wildchild just does the one - although he does spin around in about three-quarters of a circle first before dropping Stephens with the Corkscrew Suplex. With Stephens on his back again (and yes, we're talking about Mike, not Amy) Wildchild heads out to the ring apron. Red Herrington starts to make a count but Wildchild doesn't give him time to get very far, leaping to the top rope and springboarding off to land on Stephens with a senton splash-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-then hops up to his feet before instantly backflipping with a standing moonsault that sees him come down for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Stephens kicks out!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"The fans certainly behind Wildchild here tonight," Mak Francis remarks.

 

"Behind him in what? College grades?" King snipes as the Human Hurricane opts to continue the quick-tagging strategy and gets Johnny back into the match. Wild & Dangerous bring Stephens up to his feet and Irish whip the winded Englishman into the ropes, then as he rebounds each snares him under one arm and brings him up and over with a double hiptoss!

 

*BANG!*

 

"Get that cheating bastard out of the ring!" King yells at Herrington, pointing at Wildchild who is, of course, no longer the legal man. However, the referee has no time to usher Bahamans as Johnny drops to make the cover on Michael Stephens…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Stephens kicks out again!

 

"I think Wild & Dangerous are getting closer to putting Michael Stephens's shoulder down to the mat for a three-count and taking his last title from him," Mak Francis comments, "and after the way he treated Wildchild early on, I think they'll enjoy doing it!"

 

"Why couldn't Tom and Charlie come back to get these belts," King mutters, "I'm going to hate it whoever wins tonight!"

 

Dangerous keeps with the theme and reaches out to tag Wildchild, prompting further gripes from King about illegal double-teams, then Irish whips Stephens across the ring. Wildchild runs for the opposite ropes as Johnny gets ready to hit the mat for a drop toehold into a WC knee lift, a move they've used many times before…

 

…but as Wildchild hits the ropes Landon Maddix sidles along the apron far enough to drive a knee into the back of the unsuspecting Bahaman…

 

…while Stephens leaps into the air, evading Johnny's trap and then nailing the staggering Wildchild with a huge flying front dropkick!

 

"RAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

 

"Denied!" King chortles, as the crowd seem half-appreciative of Stephens' athleticism, half-outraged at Landon's underhand tactics (but he was holding the tag rope!), "that'll teach the cheaters!"

 

Johnny gets back to his feet and scrambles over to where Stephens has laid out his tag team partner… too fast, because Michael Stephens is ready for him!

 

*whump-CRACK!*

 

"Kip-up enzuigiri!" Mak shouts as Johnny collapses forward, "and Dangerous walked into that one!"

 

Red Herrington tries to keep an eye on things, ready to usher Dangerous towards the outside of the ring when the Secret Agent recovers but also monitoring events between Stephens and Wildchild. The Englishman gets back to his feet (not without a wince, as the attacks of W&D have definitely left him feeling it and he's wondering if that kip-up was the wisest thing he's ever done) and grabs Wildchild, then hauls the winded Bahaman up and-

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

-delivers a stunning headbutt!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Wildchild staggers but Stephens doesn't let up, slipping behind his opponent and grabbing the Caribbean Cruiserweight's braids, then using them jerk Wildchild's skull backwards into what is effectively an enzui-headbutt!

 

*CRACK!*

 

("BOOOOOO…")

 

And, very faintly, boos start to ring around the arena. If he hears them Stephens ignores them, instead walking over to the Galacticos' corner and reaching out to tag Landon Maddix. A groggy Johnny Dangerous has been ushered out of the ring by Herrington at this point, allowing Stephens to set Wildchild up as if for a Hangman's neckbreaker in the middle of the ring before twisting around and dropping to one knee, driving the Bahaman's face into the other with a modified Pressure Drop! Wildchild staggers and Stephens sprints past him for the far ropes, rebounding just as Landon enters the ring and starts running…

 

*WHAM!*

 

…and they take Wildchild out with a combined Cucaracha Kick and a soccer tackle from behind!

 

"Professional Foul!" Mak shouts, "and just like that, Wildchild could be done for!" Landon Maddix certainly hopes so as he scrambles to get back in position and make the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Wildchild kicks out!

 

"YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Stephens steps out of the ring while Landon takes a firm hold on Wildchild's braids and starts to haul the Bahaman up to his feet. However, Wildchild gets no further than a doubled-over position thanks to Landon's grip on the back of his head, and La Cucaracha starts firing off quick kicks to the face of the Cruiserweight Champion!

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

 

*WHAP!*

*WHAP!*

*WHAP!*

*WHAP!*

*WHAP!*

*WHAP!*

 

Wildchild doesn't even have a chance to fall down because Landon retains his grip and Irish whips his opponent into the turnbuckles; Wildchild hits hard but things don't get any better because Maddix follows him in with a flying forearm smash that knocks the Caribbean Cruiserweight down into a sitting position, slumped at the base of the corner pads.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"It certainly sounds like these Canadian fans have chosen their favourites," Mak Francis notes as Maddix backs away from Wildchild, seeming slightly surprised at his first hostile reaction in several months. However, Maddix wasn't backing off to appease the crowd - he was simply winding up for his next offering, that being the flying basement dropkick/bootscrape known as the Get Licked, which rearranges Wildchild's facial features and sees Landon fly through the ropes and end up standing on the arena floor!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Not even Maddix's posing on the floor (with Stephens applauding him from the apron, of all things) can turn the fans back in favour of the Galacticos. However, the English half of the multi-national team spots Johnny Dangerous heading into the ring to try and rescue Wildchild from the neutral corner and shouts a warning; Maddix scrambles back into the ring to try and cut Johnny off, but only eats a Johnny Kick!

 

*SMACK!*

 

Maddix collapses backwards, but as Johnny reaches down to try and pull his tag team partner over to their corner he's grabbed from behind and spun around; not by an over-zealous Herrington, but by Michael Stephens who slaps a front facelock onto the Barracuda, then delivers the Unfinished Business! With Johnny stunned Stephens takes a page out of the Wild & Dangerous book and grabs Landon's foot, then unceremoniously tows La Cucaracha over to the Galacticos corner where he steps out of the ring again before tagging himself back in.

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Stephens instantly zeroes in on the hurting Bahaman, pulling him upright and placing him into a standing headscissors before applying a double underhook. The Suicide King might be hoping for something rather more devastating, but the reality is bad enough for Wildchild as Stephens hoists him UP...

 

...AROUND...

 

...AND...

 

...DOWN!

 

*BANG!*

 

"Stephens Shock Syndrome!" Mak shouts, "that could be it!" Mike makes the cover and Herrington drops to count...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Johnny breaks up the pin! Herrington instantly herds the fuming Barracuda back out of the ring while Stephens shakes off the effects of the boot to the head, then glowers at Dangerous. Wildchild is still on his back so the Englishman heads for the nearest turnbuckles, vaults to the top and then jumps back off, twisting in the air to come down with a fist solidly planted into Wildchild's forehead!

 

"A little revenge there for earlier, I fancy," King smirks. However, Stephens appears to be into the notion of payback with interest, and he rolls back up to his feet before heading back to the turnbuckles, where he repeats the performance for a second fistdrop!

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

Stephens gets back up to his feet and shakes his fist out, then heads to his corner and tags in Landon - still slightly woozy from the Johnny Kick, but ready to get back into the fray. They hold a conversation for a few seconds before Stephens steps out to the aprond Maddix enters the ring to pick Wildchild up. In fact he literally picks Wildchild up, crouching down with the Bahaman face-up in front of him in an inverted wheelbarrow position while Michael Stephens climbs towards the top rope.

 

"I don't think Wildchild should have had all that Malibu rum last night," King says gleefully.

 

"Why?" Mak asks, suckered in.

 

"Because he's about to have an Extremely Bad Hangover!" King chortles as Stephens comes off the top rope with the somersault legdrop known as, yes, the Hangover, and catches Wildchild across the throat!

 

*BANG!*

 

Stephens pops back up to his feet and faces Johnny, daring the Barracuda to try and get in an break this one up while Landon jacknifes forward into a pin, taking Wildchild's legs with him to stack the Bahaman onto his shoulders...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"LET'S GO DUB-CEE!"

 

"What resilience from Wildchild!" Mak shouts as the Bahaman just squeezes one shoulder off the canvas, "he's still in this match, and keeping his title dream alive!"

 

"Not for long!" King fires back, because Maddix and Stephens have converged once again and hoisted Wildchild back to his feet. Red Herrington's count is being ignored as they Irish whip Wildchild into the far ropes and duck their heads for a double backdrop...

 

...but Wildchild manages to simply place a palm on each of their backs, and rather than being tossed head-over-heels the Bahaman is instead elavated into the air towards the ropes. For most people without the agility of the Human Hurricane this would still be a problem, but Wildchild lands on the second rope and instantly springboards back off, twisting in mid-air...

 

...and takes both Galacticos down facefirst into the mat with a flipping neck snap!

 

*WHAM!*

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"DOUBLE WHIPLASH!" The Franchise hollers, "I don't believe it! King have you ever seen such agility!?"

 

"Die! Die with violence, spotmonkey!" the Gambling Man yells towards the ring.

 

"...which of them were you talking to?"

 

"THAT WAS AWE-SOME!"

 

"THAT WAS AWE-SOME!"

 

The fans are sounding their support for Wildchild, but the Bahaman Bomber seems unable to capitalise; despite the fact that both members of the Galacticos are clutching their faces, Wildchild has taken a beating and that could have been his last gasp. Sensing this, Johnny starts pounding on the top buckle and reaches out, trying to find some way of motivating his partner to get over there and make the vital tag. The crowd quickly joins in...

 

"DUB-CEE!"

"DUB-CEE!"

"DUB-CEE!"

 

Slowly, Wildchild starts to move. He tries to get to his feet, wobbles...

 

...Maddix reaches out towards his opponent's leg...

 

...and Wildchild snatches it out of reach by launching into a roll, then reaching out and just managing to tag in his partner!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Johnny Dangerous is back in the match," Mak Francis calls as the Barracuda launches himself into the ring, "and he's a house on fire here!"

 

A joint adrenaline surge powers Maddix and Stephens to their feet as they realise that a fresh opponent has entered the ring, but Johnny simply knocks them back down again with a double clothesline!

 

"JOHN-NY!"

 

Maddix gets up first... and takes a spinning backfist that sends him sprawling to the mat!

 

"JOHN-NY!"

 

Stephens is up next, but simply eats a roundhouse kick that knocks him into the ropes!

 

"JOHN-NY!"

 

Maddix staggers back to his feet, but only long enough for Dangerous to kick him in the gut, then leap up and come down with a leg across the back of his neck for a Guillotine Face Driver!

 

*WHAM!*

 

"That was Wildchild's Caribbean Cutter!" Mak shouts, "and this match has turned right round!" Johnny rolls the groggy Landon over for the cover and hooks the leg...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

"THAT WAS THREE!"

 

"THAT WAS THREE!"

 

Johnny seems to agree from the expression he turns to Red Herrington, but the referee is adamant and Dangerous has to accept the verdict. However, he grabs Landon and hauls La Cucaracha upright, then tucks his head under Maddix's left arm and starts to lift for the MI Slam... but he forgot about Michael Stephens, who crashes into Johnny's shins with a soccer tackle to send the Barracuda toppling forward with Landon atop him!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Referee Herrington seems about to usher Michael Stephens out but Johnny has his own ideas on how to deal with intrusive Englishmen, and fights his way out from under the groggy Maddix to grab Stephens and hurl him out between the top and middle ropes!

 

"LET'S GO JOHN-NY!"

 

With Mike out of the way Johnny heads over to his corner and reaches out to tag Wildchild; the Bahaman is still battered, but as Johnny points upwards he nods and starts to climb. Dangerous hauls Maddix up, then bends down and takes one-half of the defending champions up into an Electric Chair position...

 

"They're setting up the Dangerous Drop," Mak shouts, "and if they hit this it's over!"

 

Landon wobbles precariously atop Johnny as the Barracuda walks towards his corner, then turns around to face away from Wildchild. The Bahaman Bomber prepares to leap for the bulldog/electric chair drop combo... but something grabs his leg!

 

"Hah! You can't get rid of the English that easily," King laughs as Michael Stephens anchors Wildchild in place, "just ask colonial Africa!" Meanwhile Johnny is wondering why Wildchild doesn't get on with it, but if he turns around to see what's going on just as his partner leaps then Dub-Cee will miss... and as Johnny's caught in an agony of indecision he suddenly gets caught in an agony of pain as Landon wakes up enough to reach down and gouge his eyes!

 

'Yarrggh!'

 

Wildchild is trying to fight Stephens off but the Englishman has a firm grip, and with Johnny blinded Landon takes his chance and throws his weight forwards!

 

"Victory Roll!" Mak shouts as Johnny finds himself taken over and his shoulders pinned down. Herrington leaps to count...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Johnny just kicks out! Wildchild sighs in relief, but the moment of inattention costs him as Michael Stephens surges up the turnbuckles towards him and fires off a right hand, then grabs the Bahaman's head and launches another headbutt!

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

In the ring Johnny fires off a Shotei that catches Landon more by luck than judgement, then turns around still wiping at his streaming eyes to see where his partner is. He sees Wildchild and Stephens perched on the top buckle...

 

...he sees Dominic rock backwards as the headbutt hits...

 

...he sees Michael Stephens grin and clasp his hand around Wildchild's throat...

 

...and he sees the Englishman simply toss Wildchild off to the arena floor, some ten or twelve feet below.

 

*WHAM!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"What in the name of God!?" Mak Francis splutters. "Chokeslam to the outside! That's... that's how Stephens was eliminated from the Clusterfuck!"

 

"TOXX-IC SUCKS!"

 

"TOXX-IC SUCKS!"

 

It's been a long time since that chant was heard in an SWF arena, but it's ringing out now.

 

"Oh, do you think someone's got some issues with Janus? Maybe?" King laughs.

 

Johnny just stands there, open-mouthed, not quite able to believe what he just saw. Then Michael Stephens turns around and looks at him, grinning that familiar lopsided grin, and he knows it's true.

 

"TOXX-IC SUCKS!"

 

...then Landon Maddix reaches around him from behind and wrenches backwards, spinning the Barracuda around and in the same motion pulling him down into a modified Crash Landon '05!

 

*BANG!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Maddix rolls Johnny onto his back and makes the cover, hooking the leg...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

...Johnny struggles...

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

...Landon's flailing hand catches a handful of tights and pulls...

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners," Funyon booms over the roars of anger, "and still SWF Tag Team Champions... THAAAA... GA-LAC-TICOOOOOSSSSSSSS!!"

 

"Maddix steals one, and... what the hell just happened!?" Mak Francis demands, giving up on professional detachment as Michael Stephens hops down from the turnbuckle and slaps Landon on the back, then collects his belt from Herrington and heads towards the back. Maddix seems a little stunned by his partner's recent actions and casts a glance back towards where Wildchild lies with SWF techs clustered around him, then shrugs and rolls out of the ring.

 

"Landon cheated," King notes clinically, "and Toxxic made sure Wildchild couldn't break up the pin. Good teamwork, although it pains me to say it."

 

"Fans, we'll be right back," is all Mak Francis can manage. Maddix, Skye and the Stephens siblings make their way back up the ramp, while behind and around them a nearly-forgotten chant fills the air.

 

"TOXX-IC SUCKS!"

 

"TOXX-IC SUCKS!"

 

"TOXX-IC SUCKS!"

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Ace309 0]

“Hey!”

 

Amy Stephens has headed off to get more beer; Megan Skye has gone to the little girl’s room. That leaves Landon Maddix, hurrying through the backstage area after his tag team partner. And Maddix has never liked playing catch-up…

 

“Hey! Mike!”

 

Landon reaches his partner and reaches out to grab his arm. Michael Stephens stops and swings around with a quizzical expression on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“What!? What the hell was that?” Landon demands, gesturing vaguely back towards the ringside area. Stephens’ brow crinkles in puzzlement.

 

“What was what?” he asks. Landon’s breath hisses out in frustration.

 

“The freaking chokeslam over the top rope?” La Cucaracha emphasises, “didn’t you hear the fans? I mean, slapping Clark around a couple of weeks ago was one thing, but Wildchild? They love him! We just got booed out of the building!”

 

“Hang on a sec,” Stephens says, holding up a black-nailed hand, “why do I]you[/i] care what the fans think? You haven’t been flavour of the month in, like, a couple of years or something. And anyway, wasn’t it you I saw grabbing the tights for the win out there, or did my eyes unaccountably deceive me?”

 

“They like it when I cheat,” Maddix argues, “usually, anyway… Hey, look,” he continues, trying to organise his thoughts, “it’s not like I need the fans cheering for me, but… well, I’ve got Drake coming up at From The Fire-”

 

“-if he gets past Clark,” Stephens cuts in.

 

“'If' he gets past Clark, yes,” Maddix nods complete with air finger quotes, “but you know how much the fans get into Drake’s head when they boo him, right? I don’t need the advantage, but if it’s there…”

 

“Landon,” Stephens laughs, “Gabe is always gonna be the bad guy. I took care of that months ago, but he ain’t exactly helped himself since. If it comes down to a choice between you and him, they’re gonna cheer you.” He looks down at Landon’s hand, which still rests on his arm. “We good?”

 

“Not just yet,” Landon replies, releasing his grip but moving to face Stephens slightly more head on, “I’ve never seen you use a chokeslam before, Mike. Granted, half the world population you couldn't get up for it anyway, but that's besides the point! I don’t think it was a coincidence. I think you did it because you’re still sore Janus tossed you out of the Clusterfuck, but we’re still the Tag Team Champions. Now, I may be going to regain the World Title to put around this well-toned waist in a few weeks,” he continues, gesturing downwards while Stephens rolls his eyes, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about these belts too.”

 

“How touching,” Mike snorts, but he is listening.

 

“Mike, it’s hard to be a Tag Champion when your partner is in the hospital suffering from a severe case of Rage Unleashed-itis,” Landon tells the Englishman seriously. “C’mon, don’t go looking for trouble.”

 

“Hey, Janus started this!” Stephens fires back, “he turned up with the bloody Mr. Mystery act, he started talking about how I’d never pinned him, he got himself into the Clusterfuck and it was him what nearly broke my jaw and chokeslammed me out of the freakin’ ring! No-one does that to me and just walks away, and that ain’t like Janus anyway! He’ll be around somewhere watching, so I’m just making sure he’s got something to watch, something that might persuade him to show up so I can kick his arse!”

 

“What, so you’re going to hurt people until he comes back?” Landon demands. Stephens looks at him for a moment, then folds his arms.

 

“…you know, you’re a fine one to talk, sunshine.”

 

“Yeah, well, look how well that turned out,” Maddix mutters, not quite meeting his partner’s eyes. Stephens grins humourlessly and pats him on the shoulder.

 

“Hey, I’m here aren’t I?” The grin disappears again and he regards his partner steadily. “Look, don’t worry about me. It’s going to take more than some seven-foot Antipodean psychopath with coloured contacts to get rid of me. And as for your match with Gabe-”

 

“-if he gets past Clark,” Landon reminds him, only realising in mid-sentence the ludicrousness of what he just said.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Stephens shrugs, “actually, Clark or Gabe, it doesn’t matter. All you’ve got to do,” he continues, “is go to From The Fire… and this time, try not to screw up.” And with that he turns and walks away, leaving Maddix staring after him.

 

“What was that all about?” Megan asks, coming up beside her man. Landon shakes his head.

 

“Y’know Meg… you ever had that feeling where you’re the only person actually putting effort into making a partnership work? That the other person’s too wrapped up in themselves and you know they theoretically have something to offer, but they can’t get past their own ego for long enough to make it matter?” he asks.

 

Beside him, Megan Skye’s face is a picture of studied blankness.

 

“Hey, let’s go get some Pepsi!” Maddix says, cheering up, “I mean, I get it free now!”

 

“Landon, you’re one of the highest-earners in the company,” Megan reminds him as they head off, “you can afford all the Pepsi you want! You could swim in it if you wanted to!”

 

“Yeah, but it tastes so much better when it’s free…”

 

Suddenly cheering up, Landon wraps his arm around Megan as they stroll off, in the opposite direction Stephens just went.

 

”…and anyway, why the hell would anyone want to swim in Pepsi Max!?”

 

Megan just groans.

[Ace309 0]

FADE IN…

 

Gabriel Drake sits in a locker room on a steel folding, the SWF World Heavyweight Title slung over his shoulder. The room is dark, covering half of the champion’s face in shadows as he begins to speak. The eerie quiet before the Storm, which will take place next…

 

“Look in my eyes and you will understand what it means to own this belt.” Gabe starts his monologue, staring into the camera. “Alan Clark, I could attack you right now backstage because I know you’re not allowed to defend yourself, but I’m above that. In fact, I’m above this match, but I’ll wait until we’re in the ring to dismantle you piece by piece, like I did to your little mascot, Ricky Barbosa!”

 

The little bit of light in the room, glints off Drake’s title belt, as he smiles and leans back. Now the shadows have extended around nearly his entire face…

 

“Did you know the supposed prophet Jesus of Nazareth was crucified by the Romans for his hubris?” Drake adds rhetorically. “Tonight Clark, you’ll hang like he did so long ago, but instead of the Romans cross you’ll do so on my Inverted Cross, a warning for anyone who dares to think that they can take my fuckin’ title away from me!”

 

Gabe leans forward eliminating the shadows, but the darkness and gloom of his cold hazel eyes remains ever-present…

 

“Yes, I plan on making an example out of you.” Drake says matter of factly. “At the end of this match you may actually see God, but right now you’d better prepare to meet your personal Antichrist!”

 

The shadows stretch across his face one last time as he leans back…

 

“Alan Clark, fear the Beast.”

 

Which is the last thing heard as we:

 

FADE…

[Ace309 0]

FADE IN…

 

“Its Main Event time once again, folks.” Mak Francis opens. “We’re back… LIVE, from the University of Victoria, in Victoria, Canada of course and are about to see the finale of our three huge title matches-”

 

“-First of all, not only did you forget the dramatic pause, but you completely left out the whole British Columbia part that goes after it, which is blasphemy to anyone from the province… and I couldn’t be prouder! Good job, Francis, I knew you had it in you!”

 

“Whatever, King.” The Franchise responds, yet a ghost of a smile can be seen across his face, cause nobody really likes Canada. “The focus of this broadcast team should be on the fact that Alan Clark, the reigning International Champion coming off the defense of a lifetime against Michael Stephens, has been vaulted into the Main Event picture due to the strength of that gigantic win! But if there was ever a time to top that victory it’d be right here and right now against current World Heavyweight Champion, Gabriel Drake.”

 

“Yeah, that’s real likely,” King retorts with a chuckle, “but since you brought it up, lets’ talk about the man who is set to defend and retain his title for the third time tonight. Gabe Drake has really come into his own of late and found his niche as champ, which is a dominating force that has no equal here in the SWF! Just ask Ricky Barbosa, who looked much worse for wear before jerking the curtain tonight.”

 

As Mak begins to answer the combination of the house lights going out and the voice of a hokey PSA signal the arrival of tonight’s challenger:

 

‘Please Stand Clear of the Ring. Por favor Soporte Claro del Anillo…’

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

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

 

A spotlight shines down upon the ramp, as ‘Be Prepared’ by Elton John from Disney’s ‘The Lion King’ starts to ring out over the PA system.

 

“I know that your powers of retention…

Are as wet as a warthog's backside…

But thick as you are, pay attention…

My words are a matter of pride!

 

While the Canadian fans respect Elton John and love the Lion King (and who doesn’t) their dislike of Alan Clark currently overrides the free concert they’re receiving.

 

“It's clear from your vacant expressions…

The lights are not all on upstairs…

But we're talking kings and successions…

Even you can't be caught unawares!”

 

Trying to catch the crowd cold, much like the song would indicate the Disney-proclaimed Happiest Guy on Earth suddenly appears in the limelight with a grand flourish! While the happy-go-lucky waving to the crowd is in full effect, as is the presence of Walter Reynolds, Alan Clark’s smile is a lot more eerie and a lot less cheery.

 

“So prepare for a chance of a lifetime!

Be prepared for sensational news!

A shining new era… is tip-toeing nearer!”

 

Walking down the aisle with pixie dust falling from the rafters, Clark continues to creep out the Franchise, King and probably any person over the age of fifteen. “It’s the same entrance, but the Disney-sponsored grappler seems to be thinking much less happy thoughts…” Mak comments. “A notably sinister song choice with all the Disney material Alan Clark had to work with.”

 

“Sinister?” King says sardonically. “Since when is the Lion King and pixie dust sinister?”

 

“Be prepared for the murkiest scam,

Meticulous planning, tenacity spanning,

Decades of denial, is simply why I'll,

Be king undisputed, respected, saluted,

And seen for the wonder I am!”

 

“Just listen to the song, Brian.” Francis implores of his announce partner. “Well that, plus the importance of this match leads me to believe that Clark isn’t off in Never-neverland tonight.”

 

“Okay, the guy showed some fire beating Toxxic last week,” the former King of Hearts concedes, “but I bet if I clapped three times he’ll prove how much of a fairy he is and die on the spot!”

 

Entering the ring, the International Champion takes off his title belt and hands it to senior official Matthew Kivell. As the music builds to a crescendo Clark stares at the hard camera stone-faced until:

 

“Yes my teeth and ambitions are bared…”

 

A large smile breaks out across his face.

 

“…BE PREPARED!”

 

Alan Clark’s odd smile stays on his face, as he backs into his corner looking towards the stage for his opponent. Suddenly, the Smarktron flares to life and flashes from The Beasts debut vignettes splashing across the screen, as the deliberate strum of ‘The Devil’s Rejects’ begins to quicken. Meanwhile, the slow melody continues and the atmosphere is even amplified by the eerie menacing blue light and the flickering of several white strobes cutting across the darkened arena, until finally…

 

“JAAAAAIIIIIL-BIIIIIRD!”

 

…through all the bright lights, glitz and glammer; face framed by his black hair with white highlights…

 

“JAAAAAIIIIIL-BIIIIIRD!”

 

…with his SWF World Title wrapped around his waist…

 

“JAAAAAIIIIIL-BIIIIIRD!”

 

…Gabriel Drake himself appears through the curtain.

 

“I am the bad one…

Distant and cruel one…

I am the dream that, keeps you running down!”

 

Hearing the opening lyrics of the Rob Zombie song, Drake pauses on the stage for a moment, looking around the arena spotting each and every single fan attempting to taunt him as mercilessly as they can! Gabe smiles wide and then proceeds to saunter down towards ringside.

 

“This is only the champion’s third defense since winning the belt back in December, but these fans are rabid for a title change.” Francis notes. “So much so that they might actual cheer Alan Clark who hasn’t been what you might call a fan favorite of late.”

 

“With distraction…

Violent reactions…

Scars of my actions, watch me running out!”

 

The Smarktron behind him continues to flash scenes from famous wars and bits of destruction while showing him hitting a Musclebuster on Michael Cross, twisting Akira’s broken body in the Spite and Malice and deforming Landon Maddix’s feature by tossing him into a Steel Cage interspersed…

 

[“HELL DOESN’T WANT THEM!

HELL DOESN’T NEED THEM!

HELL DOESN’T LOVE THEM!”

 

…Until a final picture of the newly infamous leap off the second rope with Michael Stephens in tow, compacting his jaw with a sickening Mark of the Beast!

 

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Francis! They dislike Clark, as any rational person would, but they hate Gabe because they’re too lazy to succeed and he’s proof that if you try hard enough you can get what you want in life. He wanted to beat Toxxic, become the World Champ and dominate the fed… and that’s what he’s doing!”

 

Now at ringside, Drake gets to the ring steps and bounces on his toes methodically moving up the stairs and onto the apron! Walking to the center, he brings his hands down to frame the World Title on his waist and leans back, living in the moment!

 

“The Devil's Rejects…

 

The Devil’s Rejects…”

 

As the music fades, Gabe enters the squared circle and stares down his opponent.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this your Main Event!” Funyon bellows. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Championship of the WOOOOORRLLLDDDDDDD!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

 

Funyon takes a breath and looks to his left.

 

“Introducing first, in the corner to my left!” He begins. “In the golden brown trunks and shirt! He is the challenger; from the Canadian pavilion in EPCOT,” Funyon can only shake his head at that one, “weighing in tonight at two hundred and twenty-five pounds! This is the Happiest Guy on Earth, AAAAAAL-AN CLLLLLLAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKK!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“And his opponent, in the corner to my right!” Funyon turns to face Drake. “In the red trunks with black trim! He is the champion; from Athens, Georgia, weighing in tonight at two hundred and fifty-eight pounds! He is the reigning and defending… SWF World Heavyweight Champion! This is the ‘BEAST’, GAAAAAAB-RI-EELLLLLL… DRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEE!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Taking the strap from Drake (who kisses the nameplate) and raising it high above his head for all to see, the referee then hands it over to the timekeeper while Funyon exits the ring and asks for the bell…

 

…but the Beast bulls forward early shooting a double leg pick-up!

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

Lifting Clark from his feet, Gabe slams the challenger back first into the turnbuckles catching him off guard! Lowering his head, Drake swings his leg back and buries his shoulder deep into Alan’s midsection! Clark thumps down across the Beast’s back with forearm shots, but Drake just rears back and powers through again continuing his assault! Stunned by the force of the last blow, the Disney-sponsored grappler is easy pickings as Gabe connects with a third shoulder thrust so deep that it lifts the International Champ off the ground!

 

“I thought Drake was above attacking Alan Clark before the bell.” Mak states sarcastically. “That’s what he said in his interview at least, which was about ten minutes ago.”

 

“No, he said he was above attacking him backstage where he couldn’t defend himself. Gabe didn’t say anything about before the bell and Clark should’ve seen it coming. Everyone knows when you’re in the ring all bets are off, Francis.”

 

Backing away slightly from his opponent, Drake latches on to Alan’s wrist and flings him across to the opposite corner with a whip! Clark rams into the pads back-first and the World Champ follows him in charging towards the Happiest Guy on Earth, who stays that way after dodging the corner Avalanche meant to crush him in the crook! Drake’s arms go to protect his sternum and Alan slides from the side to around behind the champion, which puts him in prime position to jut his arm between the Beast’s legs and stack his shoulders to the mat!!

 

“Inside Cradle!” Mak yells, as Kivell slides halfway out of the ring to make the count. “He may have caught Drake being to aggressive early with a school boy roll-up!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

“NO WAY!” King screams, as suddenly… Clark hooks his feet on the second rope to gain some more leverage!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

“Hey!” Mak shouts. “Feet on the ropes! Check the ropes, Kivell!”

 

 

 

THR-

 

-but glancing up, Kivell spots the chicanery and discontinues his count! Clark releases his pin and the World Champ springs off his shoulders and stalks to his feet, incensed by the gall of his challenger!

 

“I may not personally like Gabriel Drake and the fans sure seemed to enjoy what almost happened, but nobody deserves to lose the title like that.”

 

“I was pleasantly surprised Clark had the balls to pull that stunt off, but he had to know that if he didn’t win there that Gabe would be pissed off and on the attack.” King notes, as Drake stalks forward. “Look at his face—I think he may actually try to kill him, Francis.”

 

Spotting the angry champion, Alan ducks his upper body under the top rope and smiles as the Beast comes upon him. Despite the protests of Kivell, Drake does not back away, even attempting to swipe at Clark over the ref’s head!

 

After some cajoling, the senior official finally gets Gabe to back up and let the challenger out of the corner. When Alan reenters the ring, the Beast shows all the signals of wanting a collar and elbow tie-up, so the International Champ obliges by moving straight ahead. As the two slowly slide forward for the grapple, Clark rears back to fire off a right-hand mid collision…

 

…and gets a boot driven into his gut!

 

“Looks like they both had the same idea, but Drake’s foot got there first.” Mak notes, as Clark doubles over in pain. “With the Champion’s history your last statement, joking or not, holds a certain amount of truth to it. This probably won’t be pretty…”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The crowd lets Drake know what they think of him, as Mak finishes his explanation. Looming over his stunned opponent, Gabriel slides off to the side and then-

 

*WHAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

*WHAM!*

*WHAM!*

 

-Drake assaults Clark with clubbing blows forcing the challenger to his knees! As Alan struggles to get back up, Gabe clasps his hands around the base of Clark’s neck, initiating a Muay Thai clinch and fires his right knee straight up towards the International Champ’s face, but Clark partially deflects the blow! Drake doesn’t give up, the clinch holding Clark in place for a left knee to the ribcage that dazes the Happiest Guy on Earth and then another right knee to the jaw that connects clean sending Alan’s head rocketing back!!

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

With the final blow having really frazzled Clark, Drake uses the opportunity to direct Alan’s head in between his legs in a standing head-scissors from the martial arts clinch! Situated over his opponent, Gabe points towards the outside of the ring and then placing his fingers in the devil horns, the World Champ drags his hand across his neck!

 

“That can’t mean anything good for Clark.”

 

“Hey King, you don’t think…” Mak trails off mid-response to his announce partner, as Gabe latches his hands together around Clark’s waist. “No-no-no! Don’t do it! This is crazy!” Francis adds, as Drake snatches Alan off the canvas onto his shoulders and rushes towards the ropes with a snarl…

 

 

 

 

“HE’S GONNA POWERBOMB HIM OUT OF THE RING!”

 

 

 

 

…but as the Beast tosses Clark over the ropes, Alan ensnares his opponent’s head with his legs and sprawls backwards sending them both to the outside with a huracanrana!!

 

“That was a hell of a fall, Francis.” King says, as landing with a dull thud on the thinly padded concrete floor, both the champion and challenger are splayed out while Kivell sticks his head through the ropes to check on them.

 

“Yeah, still though, that wonderful huracanrana counter by Alan Clark saved his skin from an even worse one.” Mak adds, as Kivell seems okay enough with the competitor’s condition to continue the match. Starting his count, Matthew watches on as neither man moves:

 

‘ONE!’

 

Nothing changes, as both men sit on the ground groaning in pain. Clark holding his neck while Drake seems to clutching his back somewhat.

 

‘TWO!’

 

Clark is the first one to move, pushing himself up to his hands and knees, while the Beast struggles to sit up. “Are you sure?” King asks, watching Clark stand shakily. “I think that was just a prelude of things to come, Francis. Since he didn’t get that Powerbomb, I’m positive Gabe will continue to try stuff just as nasty until he hits one of them!”

 

“Good point.” Mak admits, as Alan looms over the World Champ and then fires off rapid-fire fists to the side of his head!

 

‘THREE!’

 

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

 

“He’s using a closed fist ref!” King shouts, as reaching down, Clark pulls Drake up to his feet by the hair, something that’s carried over from his series with Stephens and gets ready to put him in a front headlock, but the Beast pushes ahead jamming Alan’s back into the ring apron! Stunned by the pain in his lower back, Clark is easy prey for Drake who grabs him by the hair, turns Alan around and then punches him in the face which sends him stumbling into the guardrail…

 

*WHAM… clank!*

 

‘FOUR!’

 

Rubbing his sore back and watching Walter Reynolds out of the corner of his eye, Gabe plucks Clark from hanging on the rail and…

 

*WHAM!*

…knocks him to the floor! Picking his crawling opponent off the ground, Drake wheels around, marching him back towards the steel divider before tossing him face-first into it again!

 

*CLANK!*

 

As Alan tumbles towards the apron and falls to the concrete, the Beast spots his Disney-sponsored bodyguard taking a step forward and rounds on him instantly. Kivell practically begs Drake not to start a fight with Clark’s corner man, as he steps into Reynold’s grill! Malevolence in his eyes, Gabe puts his finger in the man’s face as he shouts:

 

‘You’d better back the fuck off before I have to beat your ass too!’

 

‘FIVE!’

 

The larger Reynolds stares Gabe down, but not wanting to affect Alan’s PG-rating backs down. So, when Drake finally turns his attention back to his opponent on the ground, it seems as though Clark has taken a page from the last person he faced and quickly vaults to his feet, leaping into the air-

 

*whump… CRACK!*

 

-and blasting Gabriel Drake with Michael Stephens’s kip-up enzuigiri!!

 

“Enzuigiri!” The Franchise calls. “Clark borrowing a page from the Sensation’s arsenal and it definitely came in handy.”

 

“More like stealing a page…” King mumbles, while the Beast falls like a ton of bricks to his back, as Clark stands and climbs onto the apron. “And Clark’s an idiot! If you’re going to borrow moves from someone, why would you pick the guy that got his ass kicked by your opponent?”

 

‘SI-’

 

Alan steps halfway through the ropes and then stops… realizing the count is broken, Clark looks back over his shoulder and moves back out onto the apron! “Don’t do anything crazy, Clark—what the hell am I saying, of course he’s going to do something crazy!” King says, watching Alan seemingly calculating the distance in his head. “This can’t be good!”

 

Apparently satisfied, Clark hops onto the top rope and springboards backward, twisting in the air and somersaulting down onto his prone opponent in a crushing elbow to Gabe’s sternum!!!

 

 

 

*THHHUUUUUDDDDD!*

 

 

 

The audience as expected explodes:

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

Holding his tailbone after falling from the highest distance possible without a ladder, Clark rolls to his side and tries to get some feeling in his hip. On the ground, Drake has flipped to his belly from the impact and can be seen gasping for breath after having the wind knocked out of him!

 

“King, I don’t think there’s a more apt name for what just occurred than Talespin Crash!” The Franchise says after raising his shades onto his forehead. “There’s high-risk and then there’s high-risk and this one paid off!”

 

After a few seconds, Alan pushes himself up to a knee and grabs onto the ring tarp to steady his injured body. Slowly shuffling over to the World Champion, Clark grabs the larger Drake by the head and waistband of his tights and then proceeds to heave him towards the ring. Barely rolling Gabe under the ropes, Clark leans against the apron trying to catch his breath…

 

“I don’t know about that, Francis.” King says, questioning Mak’s statement. “I think Clark could have hurt himself just as much as he did Gabe… if not more.”

 

The Happiest Guy on Earth attempts to get onto the apron, but the stinging pain through his body stalls him. Taking another deep breath, Alan pulls himself onto the side of the ring using the ropes and sticks his head inside just in time for Gabriel Drake to stumble to his feet-

 

*THWACK!*

 

-and punt him directly in the fricken nose!

 

“See!” King crows, as Alan is knocked loopy by the blow. “He gave Gabe an opening and now the Beast is back in control!”

 

Grabbing Clark by the hair, the World Champ latches on a front headlock over the top rope and grasping a handful of tights, elevates the Disney-sponsored grappler completely vertical! Backpedaling away from the cables, Gabe continues to hold Alan upright as he gets center ring! The seconds gradually pass as Drake lets the blood flow to the head of his opponent whose face begins to turn red! Finally, after what seems like ten seconds has past, Gabe falls back completing the suplex!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“A Delayed vertical suplex by Drake and the audience doesn’t like that one bit!”

 

Lifting Alan to his feet, the Beast whips Clark into the turnbuckles back-first! Charging in after him, Drake slams into the challenger with a corner Avalanche, crushing him against the buckles! Backing away slightly, Gabe climbs onto the second rope straddling his opponent while he grabs a tuft of hair and rains down on him with punches!! Normally the crowd would count along with the ten corner punches, but they have different plans:

 

*WHAM!*

 

“BOOOO!”

 

*WHAM!*

 

“BOOOO!”

 

“Get in there, Kivell! He’s using a closed fist!”

 

*WHAM!*

 

“BOOOO!”

 

“Oh please, give it a rest, Mak!” King cuts in. “Who doesn’t use a closed fist on punches these days?”

 

*WHAM!*

 

“BOOOO!”

 

“Not a few minutes ago you complained about Clark doing the same thing!”

 

*WHAM!*

 

“BOOOO!”

 

“That’s different,” King says backpedaling, “uh, being able to use closed fists is a perk of being a SWF champion-”

 

*WHAM!*

 

“BOOOO!”

 

“-Clark is a champion?!”

 

*WH-*

 

King mouth gapes like a fish while on the seventh strike, Gabe’s balance is suddenly thrown off kilter as Alan Clark reaches around underneath his legs and holds them on his shoulders!! Stepping away from the corner, Drake’s hands wave wildly while Clark preps to Powerbomb him, but as the Beast falls to the canvas he locks his legs around Alan’s head and snaps the International Champ over in a surprising huracanrana!!!

 

“DID YOU *BLEEP*-ING SEE THAT?!”

 

King’s bellow is thankfully caught by the censors, but the shocked audience barely has time to react before the Disney-sponsored grappler pops back up to his feet-

 

 

*WHAAAAAAAAAM!*

 

 

-and gets demolished by Gabe who stumbled into the corner and then dashed forward for a sickening Shotgun Lariat that turns him inside out!!!

 

“THAT WAS AWESOME!”

 

“THAT WAS AWESOME!”

 

“THAT WAS AWESOME!”

 

“PG-rating, King! And yes, I saw that—you’re damn right it was awesome!” Mak adds, acknowledging the crowds chant. “A two hundred and sixty pound man just did a huracanrana and then proceeded to decapitate his opponent with a sickening Lariat!” King gives his partner a look like being disingenuous, which Francis takes offence to. “I don’t have to like him to be impressed by him, Brian.”

 

Dropping to his knees, Drake rolls Clark over to his back and falls into a lateral press. Kivell drops to the mat and counts:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

 

-but Clark pushes his right arm into the air! “And as amazing as all that was, Alan Clark still kicked out of it!” The Franchise notes, as Gabe stands. “This guy won’t lose his first shot at the World title just because of a few flashy moves!”

 

“I agree… he’s going to lose because he’s a tool!”

 

Mak just sighs, as bending down Drake lifts Alan up to his vertical base and then shifts him onto his shoulder! Backing into the corner, Gabe runs towards the middle of the ring for a Powerslam, but Clark slides down and out the back!! Spinning around, the World Champ barely sees the straight kick coming towards his chin and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it from connecting!!

 

*THWACK!*

 

Immediately after the move, Clark falls to his knees on the canvas and tries to regain his bearings. Meanwhile his opponent who got caught flush by the kick, bumbles backwards into the corner directly behind him. Spotting Drake in perfect position, Alan shakes out the cobwebs and darts forward flipping head over heels in a cartwheel, then jumping high into the air-

 

*CEEEEEERACK!*

 

-before smacking Gabe in the skull with an enzuigiri!!!

 

“The Wreck of Miss Tily!” Francis shouts, as Drake takes the kick to the back of the head and slumps but does not fall. Taking a few steps back and smiling as he has been for most of the match, Clark rushes ahead again, leaping into the air while driving both the soles of his boots into the Beast’s chest before backflipping away… completing his Kodak Moment!!

 

“That Superkick seems to have started a trend of kicks connecting with the World Champ,” Mak continues as Alan lands in a crouch and tries to think of what he can do to knock Drake down, “and now it’s safe to say Clark is making his-”

 

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

“-run…” The Franchise trails off, as Gabriel Drake explodes out of the corner, leg raised for a high kick and he doesn’t miss!! Striking Clark head on, the Beast’s foot practically engulfs Alan’s face sending him down to the canvas in a heap!!!

 

“Yeah, he’s really going on a run. What a great prediction you made, Mak!” King says mocking his partner. “After all those flashy flip moves by Clark he didn’t even get a pin-fall attempt and none of it was as impressive as Gabe’s huracanrana! You want to know my prediction for Alan Clark… pain!”

 

King’s prediction is not far off the mark, as reaching down, Drake grabs Clark’s chin and points a finger in his face, badmouthing the International Champion before-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-knife-edge chopping him across the back! Gabe’s right foot immediately rears back as Clark seizes up in pain, before speeding straight ahead-

 

*THWACK!*

 

-plastering the Disney-sponsored wrestler’s chest, probably making it beet red underneath his shirt!! Alan falls prone on the mat and Drake takes this as his opportunity to run back into the near ropes, rebounding back before rolling into a knee drop across the face of his challenger!!! Finished, for now anyway, the Beast crawls back into a cover, hooking the far leg as the referee gets into position for his count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and Clark gets his right shoulder up from underneath the cover!! As has been the case for a majority of the match, Gabriel Drake lifts Alan Clark off the mat and grabbing him around the waist; the Beast picks the International Champ up and places him unceremoniously onto the top rope! Taking a step back, Drake starts to scale the turnbuckles, nearly making it up to the top rope before Clark starts to stir! Putting his left leg on the highest cable, Gabe reaches out for the Happiest Guy on Earth’s head, but Alan-

 

*BAM!*

 

-punches him in the gut! Drake steadies himself using the top rope and with his right arm-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-clubs Clark over the back of the neck! Both Alan and Gabe realize that they’re in a precarious position and begin to trade blows on the top turnbuckle!!

 

*BAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*BAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*BAM!*

 

The battle atop the turnbuckles wages on fairly equal, until Clark’s latest shot catches Drake right in the kidney, forcing him to spasm in pain! Taking advantage Alan pushes his new lead-

 

*BAM!*

 

*BAM!*

 

*BAM!*

 

-and Clark ends the battle with three straight punches to the gut that stun the Beast enough to let the Disney-sponsored grappler wrap him in a headlock and toss him face-first to the canvas in a front suplex!! Hitting the mat hard, Gabe flips over onto his back while Mak makes the call…

 

“Gordbuster!” Francis shouts, as the crowd lets loose a cheer. “Last time Clark was on the top rope we saw something special and this time should be no different!”

 

Steadily standing up, Clark finds his balance and leaning back for a brief second, Alan jumps forward, rotating in a tight ball while tucking in his knees, freefalling down upon the World Champion in a 450 Splash!!!

 

“Fauntleroy!” Mak adds to his earlier statement. “A special move to be sure! Maybe history will repeat itself and the 450 Splash will defeat another huge opponent for Alan Clark!” Landing in a natural cover, Alan hooks the far leg, nodding his head as he waves Kivell over…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

“KICKOUT!” King and Mak shout in unison, as Gabriel Drake’s right arm shoots into the air! Alan looks to Kivell who affirms that it was only two, but the crowd does not agree at all:

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“Cry about it all you want people, but Gabriel Drake did get his shoulder up!”

 

“But you have to admit that was a close call, right King?”

 

“No I don’t.” King rebuts. “Those chants mean nothing in the grand scheme of things because they hate Gabe so much they would’ve said ‘That Was Three!’ if it’d only been a one count!”

 

Sitting up, Alan runs a hand through his slightly-too-long-for-Disney hair and formulates his next move. On the canvas, the Beast rolls over onto his belly while clutching at his beat up midsection trying to protect it. Getting to his feet, Clark twirls his finger overhead in a crude signal for his signature Canadian Backbreaker Drop, know as the Monorailer! Bending down, Alan wraps his arms around Drake’s stomach and lifts…

 

…but the Champion sandbags, pretty much staying on his hands and knees!

 

“Clark’s been hitting moves the entire match that focus on both the midsection and sternum area and his Monorailer is the perfect maneuver to use with a gameplan like that if he can get Drake up.”

 

Trying again, the Disney-sponsored grappler uses his gut-wrench to pull Drake off the canvas, but he can barely get the two-hundred sixty pounds of deadweight up halfway before having to give up!

 

“Clark needs to hit the gym.” The Suicide King quips, while the International Champ goes to plan B. Driving his knee into the gut of his opponent, Alan steps off to the side and-

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

-slams his head twice into the shoulder of the Beast, softening him up!! Realizing he can’t dead-lift the 260 pound Drake, Clark slaps on a front headlock and uses the leverage to flip Gabe overhead in a vertical suplex!! The two wrestlers hit the mat and then Clark lifts his legs up and twirls them overhead, rolling both grapplers to their feet!!

 

“It’s a little too late by Eastern Standard Time, but there’s a 3 O’clock Parade right now in Disney Canada!” Mak calls, as Drake gets heaved up high and down hard once again!! “All rights reserved of course…” The Franchise adds as an afterthought while Clark rocks from his backside to his vertical base one more time before arching backwards and completing the three amigos!!! Done with the triple rolling verticals, Alan has left Gabriel Drake perpendicular to the corner to his left!

 

Walking over to the corner, Clark brushes by the ref who is checking on the Beast and exits through the ropes making his way up to the top rope!! Kivell turns around, starting his count and to make sure Clark knows how much time he has up there, when suddenly Gabe shoves the head referee into the ropes as Alan is trying to gain his balance, effectively causing him to fall, landing crotch first on the metal stud beneath him!! Lining Alan up, the Beast smacks Clark in the chops-

 

*THWACK!*

 

-with a leaping palm strike to the mush! Trying to pull him off for the Musclebuster, Gabe stacks Clark on his shoulders, but Alan breaks free flashing out a thumb to the eyes!! Wrapping his arm around Drake head, the Disney-sponsored wrestler plans on diving off the ropes in a Tornado DDT… and he does, spinning from the top turnbuckle and spiraling down to the canvas, but the strength of Drake stops his momentum in mid-air as he holds Alan mid-move and places him in a modified Butterfly hold which gets transitioned into a release suplex!!!!

 

“What an unbelievable counter by Gabe who has retaken the advantage just like that!” King says, as picking Clark up to his feet, the Beast opens his hands and then rears back-

 

*WAP!*

 

*WAP!*

 

-landing two palm strikes to the face!! Spinning backward, Gabe lashes out-

 

*THWAP!*

 

-cracking Alan across the face with a spinning back fists to the mush! Lifting his leg up into the air Drake swings his foot up into the side of the former hippies face with a nasty high kick that hits the mark!!!

 

 

 

*THWAAAACK!*

 

 

Gabe grabs the staggering challenger and Drake uses the opportunity to direct Alan’s head in between his legs in a standing head-scissors after the martial arts kick! Situated over his opponent, Gabe latches his hands together around Clark’s waist, as Drake snatches Alan off the canvas onto his shoulders and spins counterclockwise before driving him into the mat with a Spiral Demon-bomb!!!! Covering Clark’s right arm with his leg, Drake stretches his other leg as Kivell hits the mat…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Alan Clark shoots his shoulder into the air and rolls onto his belly!! Picking Alan up off the ground, Gabriel hoists Clark slowly into the air, dead-lifting the International Champ and holding him as he kicks his arms and legs to try and make the ropes, but he still gets drop on his head in a delayed German suplex with a bridge…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

And again Clark fights a shoulder into the air! Angry that Clark kicked out once again after he hit yet another big move that should have put him away, Drake lifts his opponent and shoves him back into the corner!

 

With an insane intensity, Drake rears back-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-and blasts his opponent across the chest with a chop and then-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-shoves a forearm into his face! Repeating the process, Drake alternates chops and forearm shivers!

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

Then Drake proceeds to lays waste to Clark in with three sickeningly stiff head-butts and three Kawada kicks-

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

-and finally ends it with some Cowboy kicks to the spine!

 

*THWACK!*

 

*THWACK!*

 

*THWACK!*

 

“Do you think that was a message to Landon Maddix, King?”

 

“Hell yeah!”

 

Turning the Disney grappler around, Gabe shoots into a double leg pickup, lugging Alan’s weight with him Gabe slowly stands… and then lowers Clark down his back and off to the side, latching onto his head just before sitting out and slamming his neck into the canvas-

 

*BOOM!*

 

-in an Air Raid Crash!!!!!

 

“It was like Gabe held a ‘Violence Party’ and Alan Clark is the only one invited!” King says, as Drake leans back into the academic cover. “That was just nasty! It’s all over after that!”

 

ONE.

 

 

 

 

TWO.

 

 

 

 

THREE.

 

 

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

‘The Devil’s Rejects’ blares through the PA system confirming what everyone already knows to be true after that brutal finish. Gabriel Drake is still the man. As Kivell goes to retrieve the World title, Funyon makes the call:

 

“The winner of this match… and STILL your S-W-F WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… the ‘BEAST’, GAAAAAAB-RI-EELLLLLL… DRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEE!”

 

The Beast receives his title from Kivell and stands over the beaten form of Alan Clark as Mak Francis goes into the wrap-up…

 

“Gabriel Drake has put an exclamation point on one hell of a show, but the question is can he do the same to Landon Maddix, who seems hell bent on rewriting history. For the Suicide King this is the Franchise saying goodnight!”

 

 

 

 

©2007 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

A Superior One Production

Raising Workrate by getting the matches in almost on time…