SWF Storm - 4-18-2007

[chirs3 0]

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Presents...

SWF STORM!

Live, April 18th, from the ruins of Sacsayhuamán in Peru!



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

MAIN EVENT - SINGLES MATCH (non-titlez)
"Deathwish" Danny Williams vs. Jimmy the Doom
---> Description will be added as soon as the markin' be done.
Rules: Standard singles.

SINGLES MATCH
Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix vs. Olaf Anderson
---> After a much-needed and well-deserved rest, our World Champion Landon Maddix returns to the ring!
Rules: Standard singles.

SWF Cruiserweight Title Contendership Match
The Fabulous Jakey (The Head Honcho...nchon...) vs. Zyon (The Patron Wrestler of Athens)
---> So the Seoul Survivor had... personal issues... this week, but I promised a Cruiser Contendership match, and by God we're gonna have one! The newest member of the silly titles club, The Fabulous Jakey, triumphed over three other competitors to claim the title of The Head Honcho(nchon). Tonight, he does BIG BATTEL~ with the first, the original regionally titled superstar - the Unique Youth, Zyon: The Patron Wrestler of Athens. Whoever emerges victorious tonight will go on to face Jimmy the Doom next show, with Cruiserweight gold on the line!
Rules: Standard singles, with Cruiser addenda - outside count to 20, no throwing over the top rope.

SINGLES MATCH
Big Bully Bruner vs. MANSON~~~!
---> BULL vs. BULL...Y...
Rules:

HOUSE RULES, BITCHES - "Indiana Wrestlers and the Ruins of Doom" Match
JJ Johnson vs. Mirror Max
---> This is what happens, people. If the bookers are happy, everyone's happy. If the bookers aren't happy, we resurrect House Rules. You have been warned.

Wiki says:

Sacsayhuamán is also noted for an extensive system of underground passages known as chincanas which connect the fortress to other Inca ruins within the nearby city of Cuzco. Several people have died after becoming lost while seeking a supposed treasure buried along the passages. This has led the city of Cuzco to block off the main entrance to the chincanas in Sacsayhuamán[1].

Oh how I love the Wiki.

Due to things last week, the JJ/Max match fell through. But we needs a Contender, and by golly, we're gonna get one one way or another! So we greased a few palms to re-open the entrance, and a contract for a shot at the Hardcore title is hidden somewhere in the tunnels. Find it - and sign it - to win..

NO DISQUALIFICATION MATCH
Insane Luchador vs. Johnathon Clarke
---> Like we need a reason. Go IL!
Rules: No Dairy Queen... I mean, Disqualifications.

LET'S GO TWO FOR TWO SINGLES MATCH
JRR vs. Craig McLennan
---> JRR debuted against the Paladin last show, and came out victorious! Can't really ask for a better debut than that, can you?

No, you can't. Because I said so, that's why.

But now JRR gets a chance to really build some momentum - to get his first winning streak two matches into his career! Can the JRR - which I am now stating stands for "Justice and Rule Rookie", if only so I can start saying Justice and Rule again - go two for two?
Rules: Standard singles match.

INSERT CONDESCENDING REFERENCE TO NEW PERSON HERE SINGLES MATCH
"Trademark" Tad Michaels vs. Tolland Blankhardt
---> Two rookies in two weeks? Pinch me, I must be dreaming! After last week's promising debut of JRR, a new newblet enters the fray - "Trademark" Tad Michaels. He faces off against Tolland Blankhardt, of the Four Norsemen, which is my new favorite stable name ever, which means Tad is already behind in this match.
Rules: Standard singles match.


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

[chirs3 0]

“I told Peter’s we might be giving you too much too soon by pushing you into the Main Event.”

 

Inside the office of Thomas Flesher, the former World Heavyweight Champion and his current boss seem to be in the middle of a discussion. Although it also seems that this discussion is more of a sermon than dialogue.

 

“Still, he was insistent that Gabriel Drake be the one to end Michael Stephens’ reign of terror.” Tom adds as an afterthought, but realizing he’s losing Drake’s attention, Flesher concedes the point. “Admittedly, we both wanted him out of the top spot, but I saw this coming. Acting up by no showing matches and not reporting to the arena on time… these are all signs that you weren’t ready for your position on the card.”

 

Gabe’s head is current bowed, in what Tom hopes is respect. It looks more like boredom though. Flesher shakes his head, wondering if anything will get a rise out of the rookie.

 

“I’m on your side, but I won’t tolerate you posturing like your bigger than this company now that we made you. You’re not my only competent Main Event option and if you don’t shape up, I may have to forget about the possiblity of a World Title rematch for a long, long time.” The Superior One hopes that hits a nerve, but it doesn’t. “...You don’t want that do you?”

 

 

 

Nothing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thirty seconds pass and still nothing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe he’s thinking it over-

 

“Heh!”

 

-Suddenly, Gabriel breaks the silence. “Let Maddix have his day in the sun. Sure, I’m a little, nonplussed, about him holding my belt, but something interesting came up. It’s more exciting than getting back the SWF Title-” Clearing his throat, Flesher seems perplexed by the mere thought that anything could be more important than the World Title. He goes to speak, but Drake continues talking as if the interruption didn’t even occur. “-and much more intriguing than this boring snoozefest of a fuckin’ lecture you’re currently giving me.”

 

“There’s one reason and one reason only I’m here forcing myself to listen to what you have to say right now…”

 

Tom makes a mental note that he hasn’t lifted his head once during the entire conversation. A man like this is definitely dangerous and he begins to question Joe Peters’ assertion that this guy is worth the grief. Gabriel Drake finally shows some form of movement by lifting his eyes, while a cruel, evil smile plays across his lips. On most this would be considered sinister, but on the Beast it makes him look… happy.

 

“…Toxxic’s finally back.”

 

 

 

 

FADE

[chirs3 0]

Tad vs. Blankhardt - DNS

Edited April 19, 2007 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

“Why are you so scared, what have you seen? In the castle with the silent roses?”

 

Mak: Wow King, can Craig’s outfit get any brighter than that, it’s gotta be illegal, he’ll blind his opponent!

 

The suicide King: The only way that suit can get brighter would be if he were the sun and for god sakes I hope he blinds JRR.

 

Mak: Craig McLennan is a very arrogant superstar on our roster and he can back it up, but tonight I think he may be in for it.

 

S.King: Hush Mak JRR faired well last week against Chance but how will he do this week?

 

Announcer: Coming to the ring from Duncannn, weighing in at 205 lbs……… CRAIG MCLENNAN!

 

-While Craig took off is crimson red and sleet yellow ring attire, JRR’s music hit, sending red pyro into the arena, which slowly disperses into thin air. “Click! Click! Boom!” The song send the arena to their feet as JRR makes his way down the ramp and toward the ring.

Announcer: Coming to the ring from Carteret New Jersey weighing in at 230lbs…………J..R..R!

 

making a lap around the perimeter of the ring to give high fives before entering. When JRR enters the ring neither men look very pleased.

 

Mak: Look at these men neither one taking their eyes off each other

 

S.King: it’s called determination, it’s what drives most wrestlers. You wouldn’t know much about that though

 

Mak: Your funny King, anyway lets turn our attention towards the ring.

 

**Ding Ding Ding**

 

-Both men continue you to keep their focus on each other, waiting for their opponent to make the first, wrong, move. Craig Mclennan was that wrestler, Craig lunges at JRR tossing right hands to the skull. JRR reveres every right hand with a few right hands of his own. JRR gets Craig Mclennan into the turnbuckle and begins throwing lefts and rights into his chest, after about five JRR tosses Craig into another turnbuckle and attempts a clothesline to no avail. Craig counters it and now JRR is in the turnbuckle, Craig kicks at both his knees hoping to ground him for the rest of the match. Craig runs backwards and cross bodies him in the turnbuckle.

 

- Craig then pulls away from the turnbuckle into the turnbuckle diagonally across from JRR’s and takes a running start and is trying for another cross body. JRR manages to move away but Craig saw it coming avoiding contact with the turnbuckle and instead hits JRR in the back with his forearm. JRR is then twisted around and whipped into the ropes but before Craig could attempt a move.

 

**BOOM!**

-JRR hits Craig Mclennan with a hard clothesline sending him to the canvas. JRR catches his breath on the opposite side of the ring while Craig is still on the floor. Craig is slowly getting up, JRR rockets him with another hard clothesline. JRR caught his breath and begins to elbow drop the fallen Craig. Elbow drop after elbow drop each hit Craig hard. After the fourth one Craig managed to move away and slowly rises to his feet.

Craig Mclennan throws a few right hooks, this time making contact. The groggily JRR then gets viciously drop kicked in the chest after Craig bounced off the ropes into a drop kick. Slowly the momentum has once again shifted. Craig runs towards the ropes and plants a leg drop right between his eyes. Craig then hit’s a senton flip off the ropes onto JRR in the middle of the floor. Craig runs to the ropes again and attempts to Houston hangover JRR but he moves and Belly to belly suplexs Craig. Craig, who is downed plays possum with JRR and when JRR picks him up he reverses his attempted arm drag.

 

Mak: Wow Both these men have put out all the stops already early on in the match

 

S.King: It’s early on in the match we’ve only just begun.

 

- Craig now has JRR in a dragon sleeper on the floor.

 

S.King: But look at the size difference he won’t be able to hold this for long.

 

- Suicide King was right. JRR managed to elbow Craig in the gut enough times for him to break the hold. JRR retaliates with vicious uppercuts and then throws Craig into the rops and big boots him to the canvas! JRR lifts Craig Mclennan up off the ground and Militatry presses him into the turnbuckle, hanging him upside down a suplex position.

 

**BAM!!**

 

-JRR front suplexed Craig Mclennan onto the ropes and then is sprigboard dropkicked to the outside of the ring!

 

Mak: OH MY GOD!

 

S.King: No, that’s not incredible, what’s incredible is that JRR is preparing to fly to the outside! Craig… Get up!

 

-When Craig gets up JRR spears him through the ropes and nails Craig who is on the outside. Both men are down and they look hurt. JRR gets up, still out of breath and rolls Craig into the ring, breaking the ten count. JRR is on the apron of the ring when Craig dropkicks his legs and falls to the outside mats. Both men are down, one man in the ring, the other on the outside. The ref begins to count.

**ONE**

**TWO**

**THREE**

**FOUR**

**FIVE**

**SIX**

-At this moment JRR begins to roll into the ring where Craig begins to stand as well. Both opponents throw punches but both counter each other. JRR locks up with Craig and throws him to the ropes and hits him with a belly to belly suplex!

One..

Two..

KICK OUT!

 

Mak: What a close call!

 

S.King: is the Ref unable to count, one… two… three… just like that. That had to be the fastest count I have ever heard.

 

-JRR cannot believe it either, he climbs to the top rope setting up for a high flying move! He waits until Craig Mclennan makes it to his feet Craig makes a last resort dash and drop kicks the turnbuckle sending JRR crashing down. Craig immediately covers for a pin

One..

Two..

Thr- KICK OUT!

 

Mak: I cannot believe it how did he kick out of that!

 

S.King: I cannot believe this ref that was the slowest count I have ever heard!

 

- Craig runs towards the ropes and hit’s a Lionsault onto JRR’s lifeless body setting up for the Orange Cruch. JRR slowly rises to his feet and reverses the Orange Crush into a big boot. Once again both men are on their backs. However this time JRR begins to stand up and begin pumping up the crowd.

 

Mak: Where did this energy come from?

 

S.King: God that’s not fair. Give some to Craig too.

 

-Craig is groggily and turns around right into the POWERPOP! Craig is down for the count! JRR sets up Craig for the Redline though and…

**BOOM!**

 

Craig lands hard onto the Canvas after the devastating REDLINE!

One.

Two.

THREE!

 

Announcer: Heres your winnerrrrrrr J..R.R!!

 

- JRR still lay lifeless over Craig’s body after that brutal match. After both men put out all the stops the smoke cleared and JRR was the man left standing.

 

Mak: Well rack up another impressive win for JRR. Last week he managed to take on Chance and come out victorious and now this week he manages to beat Craig Mclennan in a very entertaining match and a match that pushed both rising stars to their limits.

 

S.King: first of all I cannot believe that Craig did not win after all, he was up half the match but that goes to show you JRR won cause he was the bigger man, talent wise Craig won.

 

Mak: That may be King, but the bell rang and JRR won no ifs, ands, or buts.

[chirs3 0]

IL vs. Clarke - DNS

Edited April 19, 2007 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

“You’re kidding me, right?”

 

The voice of JJ Johnson brings fans back from commercials, as the Canadian Murder Machine looks none-too-pleased at the instructions he has been given by referee Henry Jones. Off to the side, Mirror Max looks just as much displeased – at least with the body language he is showing.

 

“I’m not going to go runnin’ around a stinkin’ cave for treasure! It’s freakin’ booby-trapped! I COULD DIE!”

 

Mirror Max throws up his hands in surprise and agreement, trying to show Referee Jones that he is feeling the same sorts of emotions.

 

“How could an SWF official even get that contract in….

 

 

 

…there. Wait a minute!”

 

“Fans, we were about to take you over to referee Henry Jones and the Ruins of Doom, but it seems JJ Johnson has stumbled upon the fatal plot hole that the referee might not have wanted him to.

 

“There’s no WAY anybody could have gotten in there and put that contract there. I think you have it.” The referee begins to back up, and suddenly takes off running toward the timekeeper’s tent. He ducks inside and emerges with a…

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

“That can’t be good…” mutters the Suicide King as the referee snaps a whip at the feet of Johnson, sending him leaping into the air.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” he screams, as the referee pulls the contract from his back pocket, the ruse now out in the open. From behind, Max tries to get one-up on the referee, who quickly pivots and sends the whip around Max’s legs, tripping him down into the dust and giving JJ the spot he needed to dive onto the referee’s back!

 

“This is turned into a melee! The referee has found himself in a 2-on-1 situation and he is holding his own!” cries out the Franchise as Jones flips Johnson off of his back and onto the ground, regaining his position of power and rushing up a hillside, giving himself the high ground and making it that much harder for Johnson and Mirror Max to secure the contract and win this match!

 

“Where’s that Mortimer fellow, anyway?” asks the King, as the referee too seems cautious about his position, looking in all directions, but the larger member of the masked duo is thankfully nowhere to be found.

 

“Don’t you mean (bleeeeeep)? I don’t think he made the flight.” Mak Francis fills in that particular plot hole with a verbal shovelful as Johnson and Max BUTT heads at the base of the hill, each of them throwing out their own ideas for defeating the referee. Yeah, defeating the referee. Thoth must have the book again.

 

“Max best let Mr. Cold Front Classic take care of this!” and before anyone can argue, Johnson takes a run up the hill, dodging a crack of the whip and taking a dive at the legs of the referee, who expertly jumps out of the way and rolls to safety, popping up to his feet just as Mirror Max reaches him, sword in hand.

 

….

 

 

…

 

 

SWORD IN HAND?

 

“Is that legal!?” yells the Franchise as Max wields his blade, showing some impressive skills. With a shrug, the referee reaches around his back to grab the contract…

 

BANG!

 

“A GUN!” both announcers yell as the referee pulls out what appears to be a tranquilizer gun, only for Max to barely dodge out of the way, knocking the dart down to the ground with his blade, causing it to bend unnaturally.

 

“And not exactly the sword we thought it was!” Max shrugs at the cheapness of his reproduction movie prop and moves in the on the referee, only to suddenly be tackled to the ground thanks to JJ Johnson! Max rolls down the hill as Johnson brushes himself off and races after Jones, who has made his way to the very top of the hill…

 

“He’s catching up!”

 

“He got him!” Mak calls as Johnson makes a desperate leap and catches the ankle of the referee, tripping him up and putting him down in the dirt.

 

“GIVE IT TO ME!” Johnson screams, grabbing the paper from the referee’s back pocket and opening it up. He reads over it, and then a wash of pale comes over his face before he turns back down the hill. “ANYONE GOT A PEN?”

 

“Oh great…genius didn’t bring a pen to a contract signing match.”

 

“You hear House Rules and you don’t expect a written portion.”

 

“He’s got the contract, that should be enough! Ring the bell already!”

 

“What bell, King?” Francis points to his monitor to show there is no bell in the vicinity.

 

“Maybe in that damn tent, I don’t know! This is silly!” JJ hits the bottom of the hill running, but nobody around seems to have a pen either, not even the cameraman. JJ screams right into the camera, his nostrils showing that they may need a bit of cleaning as he releases some of his frustrations…

 

*ZAAAAAAAAAAAAP*

 

…and falls to the ground.

 

“What the hell was THAT?” calls the Suicide King as the camera tries to refocus, finally showing Mirror Max, pen in one hand and a small tazer in the other. “How’d he get that on the plane?”

 

“We don’t need any more plot holes, King…” remarks the Franchise as Max gives Johnson a second tazer zapping for good measure and pulls the contract out of his stunned hand before walking over toward the timekeeper’s tent and inside, the camera following to show there is indeed a bell inside on a tiny table. Max flattens out the paper and signs his name – an X – at the bottom, and slaps it down in front of referee Jones, who had finally made it down to the tent, staying clear of Max with his tazer and JJ in his rage and getting ready to declare a winner.

 

DING DING DING.

 

…which he finally has.

 

“The winner – and Number One Contender to the Hardcore Championship – MIRROR MAX!”

 

Max smiles and pockets the tazer, disappearing out of the back of the tent just as JJ Johnson crawls in, still a wee stunned. The referee looks down at JJ on his hands and knees…

 

“Kid, I was only named after a dog…”

 

FADE.

[chirs3 0]

FADE IN

 

“A tremendous night of action so far,” says Mak, “and coming up next, we’ve got a match that will pit one of the most dangerous competitors we have here in the SWF, MANSON, against the massive Mister Bruner!”

 

“Well, MANSON appears to be ready to give it another go around, after yet another successful tour overseas, but he’s definitely going to have his hands full with Bruner, who came within an eyelash of defeating that twerp Landon Maddix a few weeks ago!”

 

“As a result of that loss,” adds Mak, “Mister Bruner is still looking for his first televised victory! We’ve got lots of action still to come here tonight, folks, so let’s not waste any more time!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“The following contest,” booms Funyon, “is scheduled for one fall!” With that, the ominous baseline of Busta Rhymes’ “Call the Ambulance” begins to blast through the Key Arena!

 

Now, motherfuckin’ case closed... (Huh!)

The shit blow your speaker; keep turnin' your base low... (Huh!)

Spaz out because I motherfuckin’ say so... (Huh!)

Before I blow this bitch like we down in Waco... (Huh!)

 

“Making his way to the ring,” continues Funyon, “being accompanied by Sir Marvelous… From the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, New York, and weighing four hundred fifty-five pounds: BIIIG BULLY BRUUUUUN-ER!” Bruner makes his way to the ring and walks up the apron, stepping over the top rope to enter the ring. He removes his jacket and fedora and hands them to Marvelous as the chorus begins to play:

 

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people,

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people,

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people,

Put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out!

 

Bruner’s music fades out and is quickly replaced by the guttural, distorted warbling of Cephalic Carnage’s “Scientific Remote Viewing.” Strobe lights pulse as well as they can in the outdoor arena, as smoke billows out from the stage area. The Sacsayhuamán erupts as the curtain parts and out walks MANSON, obscured by a tattered, brown cloak with hood and metal mask covering his face, as spotlights shine upon him.

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“I tell you what, Francis,” says King. “It takes a special type of personality to get the fans to cheer for a guy like MANSON!”

 

“Well, we know that MANSON has his followers all over the world,” replies Mak. “He’s a big star in Japan, and apparently he has MANSONITES here in Peru, as well!”

 

“His opponent,” booms Funyon, “from Denver, Colorado, and weighing two hundred thirty pounds… MAAAAAN-SON!” MANSON strides down the aisle, totally focused on the ring, as the numerous chains on his person rattle ominously. He holds his metal bat at the ready, out of the open end of his cloak and over his shoulder as he walks, then slides in underneath the bottom rope. He stands and raises the bat over his head with one hand, as he removes his mask with the other!

 

 

MANSON removes his cloak as his music fades out, but continues to hold onto the bat, and referee Red Herrington motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Bruner and Sir Marvelous point accusingly across the ring, with Marvelous loudly demanding that Herrington have MANSON disarm.

 

“Sir Marvelous is screaming about the bat,” says Mak, as MANSON shrugs off his hooded robe, kicking it behind him absentmindedly. “He wants MANSON to get rid of it!” MANSON holds the bat high overhead with his left hand, as he rips off the mask with his right.

 

“Of course he does,” replies King, as MANSON heads over to his assigned corner and deposits both items. Bruner charges into the corner after him…

 

 

“Look out!”

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But crashes shoulder-first into the corner, as MANSON leaps out of the way! The Raging Bull greets Bruner as he turns around with a series of snapping left jabs… followed by a ferocious right cross!

 

“Whoa!” shouts Mak. “Sneak attack tried by Mister Bruner… but it didn’t work!”

 

“MANSON was ready for him!” adds King. “He caught Mister Bruner; Bruner was looking for an advantage, but MANSON outsmarted him!” MANSON grabs Bruner by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bully easily reverses, sending MANSON into the ropes; Bruner charges into the corner to squash MANSON with an avalanche splash, but the Savage Messiah again departs the corner safely, giving Bruner some more of the same treatment, courtesy of the left and right hands!

 

“Nice reversal by Mister Bruner,” says Mak, as MANSON continues to batter away at Bruner’s eyes and nose, “but he’s about a step slower than MANSON right now!”

 

“And I’ve got to give MANSON a lot of credit here,” says King, as Marvelous ambles up onto the apron to try and get MANSON’S attention. “He’s using his experience to his advantage, and he’s going against his own style a little bit; he’s not trying to match strength and size with Mister Bruner. He’s using his speed, and he’s moving around!”

 

MANSON suddenly turns his attention to Sir Marvelous and runs across the ring to take a swing at him, but Marvelous quickly drops down to the arena floor, landing on his good leg to avoid catastrophe; Bruner also takes advantage of the distraction to exit the ring and gather his bearings.

 

“Great start to the match by MANSON,” repeats King, “but he’d better not waste time worrying about Sir Marvelous! He needs to worry about the big man!”

 

“King, you had it exactly right before,” says Mak, as Marvelous uses a towel to soak up a small trickle of blood from Bruner’s nose. “MANSON has to use his speed, his agility, and his experience to come away victorious in this match! Look at Sir Marvelous out there: he came in with a game plan for his man, but it backfired on him, and how he’s trying to come up with another way to get Mister Bruner fired up!”

 

“He busted your nose!” Marvelous can be heard screaming from the camera’s microphone. “He’s trying to make you look bad on worldwide television! Don’t take that from him! Get him!”

 

“You’re dead, punk!” growls Bruner.

 

“GET HIM!” Marvelous cries shrilly, as Bruner returns to the apron; Bruner tries to step into the ring, but MANSON heads him off at the pass, catching him with heavy right hand after heavy right hand! Once Bruner gets fully into the ring, MANSON grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bully reverses easily, and snatches him out of the air as he rebounds, holding him overhead in a military press!

 

“MANSON’S got himself into some trouble here,” notes Mak, as Bruner begins doing overhead repetitions with the Stampede. “We’ll have to see if he can come up with a way to get out of it!” Bruner attempts one rep too many, though, and MANSON slips out of his grasp, landing on his feet behind his opponent; Bruner turns around only to be greeted by yet another right hand, and MANSON runs towards the edge of the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes…

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But Bruner levels him with a shoulderblock! MANSON looks up in astonishment as he backs away from his opponent.

 

“MANSON took a hard shot there from Mister Bruner,” says Mak, “and it’s evident that he’s not accustomed to being put down that easily!”

 

“Well MANSON’S a pretty big guy, by SWF standards,” says King, as Bruner holds his hands over his head, with his fingers spread apart. “We don’t get too many super heavyweights around here! And now, Bruner looks like he’s challenging MANSON to a test of strength!”

 

“I’m sure that MANSON will be happy to oblige,” says Mak, as the Raging Bull gets back to his feet, “but I can’t help thinking that it’s a mistake on his part!”

 

“Well, MANSON may not be happy after he gets into it,” remarks King. “We’ll just have to see how it plays out; MANSON’S giving away over two hundred pounds of body weight!” MANSON cautiously locks up with Mister Bruner, but the Bully easily powers him down to his knees the moment their fingers are locked together.

 

“Greco-Roman knuckle lock,” says King. “And, to nobody’s surprise, Bruner’s winning it. He’s just got too much, size, too much power!”

 

“MANSON gave into his pride when he let himself be suckered into that hold,” agrees Mak. “He’s so accustomed to being able to muscle his opponent around with ease that he didn’t want to accept that he was dealing with somebody who’s actually stronger than him!” Herrington walks over to MANSON and asks him if he wants to give up, but the Savage Messiah shoots him a look so fierce that it causes the hairs on the back of the referee’s neck to stand up! Herrington backs away meekly, so as not to raise MANSON’S ire.

 

“You’re not so bad now, huh?” Marvelous taunts loudly from outside the ring. “You’re not so tough without that bat, huh?” He then turns towards the fans and hollers out, “Where is your Messiah now?”

 

 

MAN-SON!

MAN-SON!

MAN-SON!

MAN-SON!

 

 

“Bruner’s definitely got the advantage here,” says Mak, and MANSON lowers his head in fatigue. “But still, no one’s ever won a match with a knuckle lock.”

 

“Maybe not,” agrees King, “but if you put enough strain on your opponent’s wrists, and take away his grip, it’s going to limit what he’s able to do to you!” MANSON suddenly snaps his head up to face Mister Bruner, an unnatural glint in his eyes!

 

“Uh-oh!” moans Mak, as MANSON is able to get one foot firmly on the canvas. “Is that a trick of the light, or is MANSON summoning the spirit of MANSONOSITY?”

 

“If he is, Bruner had better hope he’s covered!” replies King. Behind Bruner’s shades, the Bully’s eyes widen in shock and awe as MANSON gets both feet under him.

 

MAN-SON!

MAN-SON!

MAN-SON!

MAN-SON!

 

 

“These fans are infusing their Messiah with energy!” exclaims Mak, as MANSON begins to stand up. “He’s literally drawing strength from this capacity crowd!” Bruner’s hands begin to waver as MANSON, now standing up, begins to push back against them!

 

 

LET’S GO, MAN-SON! LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP!*

LET’S GO, MAN-SON! LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP!*

LET’S GO, MAN-SON! LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP!*

LET’S GO, MAN-SON! LET’S GO! *CLAP-CLAP!*

 

 

“I can’t believe it!” exclaims King. “I’m seeing it with my own eyes, and I still don’t believe it!” Sir Marvelous is apoplectic outside the ring as MANSON actually begins to bend Bruner’s hands backwards!”

 

“He’s turning the tide! MANSON is actually turning the tide on Mister Bruner!” MANSON continues to push upwards, his MANSONOSITY-enhanced strength overwhelming the Big Bully… But, Bruner is so much taller than him that, in continuing to push upwards, MANSON gets all the way up on the tips of his toes and loses his balance! The momentary lapse in concentration causes MANSON to lose his link to the MANSONOSITY force…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And Mister Bruner jumps all over the opening like Johnny Dangerous at a strip club, and buries a knee into MANSON’S midsection, doubling the Raging Bull over in pain! Bruner then quickly follows up with a clubbing double-axe handle to the back!

 

“Whoa!” exclaims King. “And that was a tremendous double-axe handle!”

 

“Wow!” says Mak, as MANSON stumbles over towards the edge of the ring, leaning heavily against the ropes. “Just when MANSON made it back to his feet, Mister Bruner lowered the boom!” Bruner grabs MANSON by the back of the head and leads him over towards the nearby corner, slamming him face-first into the top turnbuckle!

 

“Stay on him, Bruner!” cheers Marvelous from outside the ring. “You’ve got him now; stay on him!” Bruner then pulls MANSON out towards the center of the ring and traps him in a side-headlock; he uses his body to obstruct the referee’s view as he uses the crease of his right hand to deliver a ferocious throat thrust to the Stampede! Red Herrington admonishes Bruner for going to the throat, as MANSON staggers across the ring, gasping for breath.

 

“You can hear Sir Marvelous outside the ring, encouraging Mister Bruner to stay on top of MANSON… He’d better stay on him; if he gives MANSON any daylight at all, MANSON will make him pay for it, in a hurry!” MANSON gets to his feet and tries to walk away from Mister Bruner to catch his breath, but the Bully grabs him by the back of the head and leads him over to the nearby corner, where he rams him face-first into the top turnbuckle!

 

“I tell you what, King,” says Mak, “that Bruner is one nasty individual… in AND out of the ring!”

 

“I wouldn’t want to owe him money, I’ll tell you that much!” agrees King. Bruner steps away from the corner and mocks the Savage Messiah by imitating the crucifix pose. “And now you see Mister Bruner adding a little insult to injury!”

 

Bruner turns back to the corner and grabs the middle ropes with both hands; he lowers his head and thrusts his shoulder repeatedly into MANSON’S midsection. He then pulls Mr. OSITY out of the corner and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring; he lowers his shoulder to deliver a back-body drop as MANSON bounces off the ropes…

 

WHAM!

 

… But the Stampede turns the tables, smashing Bruner in the back of the head with a clubbing forearm shot!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“Bruner put his head down, and he paid for it!” shouts Mak. “You just can’t do that with a veteran like MANSON!”

 

“Smart move by MANSON; he saw the opening,” agrees King, as the Savage Messiah rushes across the ring. He slams into the Bully with a running shoulderblock, but the giant barely moves!

 

“Uh-oh!” says Mak. “Shoulderblock had no effect!” MANSON runs to the ropes again and slams into Bruner’s chest with a second running shoulderblock, but the Bully again only takes a step back! “MANSON’S hitting Mister Bruner with some heavy blows, but they’re not getting the job done!”

 

The Stampede runs back to the ropes, jumping into the air as he rebounds and slams a running elbow smash into the Bully’s face, which snaps his head back! “I don’t think MANSON’S ever met someone who can take his punishment and remain standing!” shouts King.

 

“An immoveable object, right there!” agrees Mak. The Raging Bull runs across the ring once more and picks up speed as he bounces off the ropes to deliver another running elbow smash to the face of Bruner! The Bully begins to show signs of the blows’ cumulative effects, as it appears to be becoming progressively harder for him to stay on his feet! The fans begin cheering loudly as Bruner wavers back and forth on rubber legs!

 

“He’s got him staggering now!” shouts Mak. The Savage Messiah runs to the ropes, and Bruner tries to meet him as he rebounds with a clothesline of his own, but MANSON easily ducks underneath and darts across the ring, leaping into the air as he bounces off the ropes a second time…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And clocking Bruner with a running high knee! Bruner falls backwards and into the ropes, where his arms get caught between the top and middle ropes!

 

“Beautiful high knee!” shrieks Mak. “And Bruner’s hooked! He’s hooked in the ropes!”

 

“Tremendous high knee by MANSON,” agrees King. “I can’t believe that he was able to elevate and take down 6’10” like that… but he may have cost himself a win by knocking Mister Bruner into those ropes!” Apparently not thinking about winning at the moment, the Savage Messiah stalks menacingly towards Bruner; the crowd noise reaches a crescendo as MANSON returns the crucifix taunt, and then begins battering Bruner in the head with hard right hands! The fans chant along, counting each punch that MANSON delivers:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

TEN!

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

MANSON turns to face the other side of the ring, and raises the metal “horns” to salute the crowd. Sir Marvelous clamors up onto the apron and tries to free Bruner from the ropes; as Red Herrington goes over to help him, MANSON heads over to his corner… and retrieves the bat!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Oh no!” shouts Mak. “MANSON has the bat! Things could get ugly here, in a hurry!” Upon seeing the bat, Marvelous flips out, and begins screaming at Herrington to get rid of it; Herrington turns his attention back to MANSON as Sir Marvelous continues to help Bruner get free.

 

“MANSON is risking suspension by trying to use this bat,” says King, as Herrington runs over to pry the bat from the Raging Bull. “On the other hand, Red Herrington is risking MANSONALITY, and I don’t know if the referees are covered!” Marvelous gets Bruner free of the ropes as, in the center of the ring, the threat of disqualification finally gets through to MANSON, who lets go of his bat and surrenders it to the official. MANSON watches Herrington regretfully as he walks across the ring to return the bat to the corner… as Sir Marvelous surreptitiously hands his cane to Mister Bruner!

 

“Uh-oh!” moans Mak. “We’ve got trouble over here!” MANSON turns his attention back to Mister Bruner, just in time for the Bully to slam the tip of the cane into MANSON’S midsection, and toss it outside the ring before the referee turns back around! Bruner wraps his arms around MANSON and locks his hands behind his opponent’s back; he then hauls MANSON off the canvas and twists around suddenly on his heel as he drives Mr. OSITY into the mat with a belly-to-belly suplex! Bruner applies a half-hearted pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

MANSON kicks out at two! Bruner pulls MANSON to his feet and lifts him up onto his shoulder; he runs over to a nearby corner and flings the Stampede over his shoulder, dropping him face-first into the top turnbuckle with Snake Eyes! Big Bully Bruner runs to the ropes as MANSON staggers out of the corner and raises his leg as he rebounds, leveling the Savage Messiah with a running big boot! Bruner once again taunts MANSON, this time by throwing up the metal horns.

 

“Mister Bruner has things back in his favor,” says Mak, as Bruner heads over to the nearby corner. “But King, we said it before: you can’t afford to take MANSON lightly!”

 

“Well, if Bruner hits this,” says King, as the Bully eases up onto the middle ropes, “he can take him as lightly as he wants!” Bruner leaps from the middle ropes, legs extended to deliver a legdrop…

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But MANSON rolls out of the way! The Stampede crawls across the ring, using the turnbuckles to pull himself back to his feet; Bruner gets up and heads over to the corner to pursue his opponent, but the Raging Bull stuns him with a boot to the midsection! And another one!

 

“Look at MANSON!” shouts King. “You called it, Francis; he’s reaching back!” MANSON knocks Bruner backwards with a slashing Kesagiri chop! He smashes Bruner in the face with a hard right hand, and then delivers another Kesagiri chop to the chest! MANSON grabs Bruner by the tie with his left hand as he draws back…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

And snaps the Bully’s head back with a Rolling Elbow! Bruner leans back… way back… but remains on his feet; MANSON looks at him, and then looks out into the crowd, before cupping his hands to his mouth and hollering:

 

TIIIIIM-BERRRRR!

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“MANSON’S going for it!” shouts Mak. “We could see the Zantetsuken!” MANSON runs across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and leaps up into the air…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Finally knocking Bruner off his feet with the Iron Cutting Sword! Bruner falls to the canvas and MANSON dives atop him to apply a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! Marvelous pulls Bruner’s foot on the bottom rope!

 

“Aw! Sir Marvelous saved him; Marvelous saved Mister Bruner… And listen to the fans here in the Sacsayhuamán, they don’t like it at all!” Mak cries out exasperatedly as MANSON gets to his feet pointing to Marvelous accusingly. “And MANSON doesn’t like it, either!”

 

“Yeah,” says King, “but MANSON had better stop worrying about Sir Marvelous, and worry about that behemoth he’s facing in the ring!”

 

“But King,” replies Mak, “when Marvelous pulls stunts like that, you’ve got to worry about him, too!” MANSON waits for Bruner to get to his feet and then tries to wrap his arms around Mister Bruner in a head-and-arm trap!

 

“Look at this!” shouts Mak. “He’s going for the Uranage!” Before he can even get his feet under him to attempt a lift, however…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Big Bully Bruner delivers a bone-crushing elbow to the back of MANSON’S neck! The Stampede collapses to the canvas like a sack of potatoes, and Bruner immediately follows up with an elbow drop to the back!

 

“And that was a MAJOR tactical error by MANSON!” exclaims King. “MANSON should never go for that Uranage suplex against a man four hundred fifty-five pounds!” Bruner pulls MANSON to his feet and whips him across the ring; he snatches the Savage Messiah up in a bearhug as he bounces off the ropes… and then spikes him down hard with a bearhug spinebuster! The Peruvian crowd boos the Bully as he once again taunts MANSON by mimicking the metal horns.

 

“A cardinal mistake, perhaps,” muses Francis. “But, when you’re out there, you’re out there to win… and that’s one of MANSON’S favorites, King, that’s one of his trademarks, that Uranage suplex… but he’s paying the price for it right now!”

 

“It might be one of his favorites,” replies King, as Bruner pulls MANSON to his feet, “but it’s one that he should never have tried to use against this guy!” Bruner traps MANSON in a standing headscissors and bends over to wrap his arms around the Messiah’s waist; he lifts MANSON into the air…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… And drives him down hard with a ferocious powerbomb!

 

 

“Uh-oh!” moans Mak, as Bruner begins dragging his opponent into the corner. “Mister Bruner scores with the powerbomb… and we know what’s coming up next!”

 

“Well, if he hits it,” says King, “we really will have to Call the Ambulance!” Bruner eases up onto the middle ropes and gives MANSON a final taunt of mimicking his crucifix pose before he leaps off the middle ropes…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… And crashes into the Raging Bull with the avalanche splash! Still not taking chances, Bruner hooks the leg as Herrington dives into position to count the shoulders:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“Call the Ambulance” begins to play again, as Bruner rolls out of the ring. Herrington rolls out to raise his hand in victory, but the Bully scares him off, allowing only Sir Marvelous to raise his hand.

 

“An unfortunate turn of events for MANSON here in the Sacsayhuamán,” says Mak, “but a big victory for Mister Bruner! Let’s go to Funyon for the official word!”

 

“Here is your winner,” booms Funyon, “BIIIG BULLY BRUUUUUNER!” Bruner and Marvelous retreat up the ramp as MANSON just now begins to show signs of life, rolling over onto his stomach.

 

“A very impressive victory by Mister Bruner, over one of the toughest men ever to compete here in the SWF,” says King. “If he ever decides to start wrestling full-time, he’s going to have a lot of guys here taking notice!”

 

“And on that note,” says Mak, “we’re going to go to commercial! When we come back, folks, the Fabulous Jakey and Zyon will be competing for the Number One contendership to the SWF World Cruiserweight Title! Stay with us!”

 

The camera takes a final shot of MANSON slowly pulling himself to his feet inside the ring…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

Jakey vs. Zyon - DNS

Edited April 19, 2007 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

"...I don't get it, this guy doesn't look anything like Ole Anderson..."

 

"AND WE ARE BACK!" Mak Francis hastily interrupts as we return to SWF Storm. "We're mere minutes away from our main event tonight, touch wood, but first up we get an opportunity to see our new World Heavyweight Champion in action!"

 

"Well praise be!" sneers King. "Our World Champion graces his with his presence, what could we have ever done to earn this great honour, aside from employing him of course?"

 

"Now you know full well Landon had commitments last week with our good friends at the Pepsi company, shooting a commerical for delicious Pepsi Max. Maximum Taste, No Sugar. But he's jetted out tonight especially to compete in... uhm... Sac... Sacasa... to Peru(!), to compete for all these great fans here in... uh... in Peru(!)."

 

"Memo to Peru: If you're gonna name a city, make it something pronouncable. Thank you."

 

"Let's go to the ring."

 

 

And right on cue we do, to see one of our erstwhile European friends already in the ring, hopping from foot to foot impatiently.

 

"The following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall. In the ring, from Stockholm, Sweden... he weighs in at two hundred, twenty eight pounds... representing the FOUR NORSEMEN... OOOOLLLLLLAAAAAAAFFFFFFFF... AAAAAAAAAANNDDEEEEEERRRRRSSSSSSEEEEEEENN!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Spain and Sweden to be represented here tonight, two countries with a proud professional wrestling tradition!"

 

"You're not even trying anymore, are you?"

 

 

"REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!"

 

The crowd go wild as the lights dim, alternating between complete blackout and really frikkin' bright as "Personal Jesus" by Marilyn Manson hits. I guess they'd be floodlights and natural light would be present, I suppose we're outdoors. Whatever. Anyway, the lights (both artificial and natural) return back to normal as Landon Maddix appears on stage and thrusts his hands to the side and soaks up the cheers of the crowd. Landon's jacket flaps open, showing off his title belt to the Peruvian crowd, as he

 

"And, introducing his opponent! Accompanied to the ring by MEGAN SKYE! From Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... weighing in at two hundred, eight pounds... he is your NEW, three-time SWF World Heavyweight Championship... LANDON... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIXXXXXXXX!!!!"

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Maddix warmly waves to the Peruvian crowd like he were some kind of foreign diplomat rather than a professional wrestling champion, even stopping to shake a couple of hands down the aisleway. As he reaches the ring steps Landon makes a quick dart up them onto the apron, extending his hands to his newfound fans.

 

"They love Landon here in Peru!"

 

"We come to these countries once ever three years Mak," deadpans King, "they love whatever we throw at them."

 

"That's the beauty of World Tours. Hey, I wonder if Landon's going to put his title on the line to any fans in the audience tonight. I hope not, that plan doesn't tend to have a good return."

 

"Unless your last name is Kaufman."

 

As he spins into the ring, Landon opens his long jacket up again and shows his SWF World Championship off with a cheesy grin. After removing of the belt he then hands it carefully to Megan, shining off a smudge on the main plate as he does so. From a neutral corner Andersen watches on with typical Swedish... uhm... what is it Swedes do?

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Oh, nevermind, there's the bell.

 

"Well Landon Maddix returning to SWF action here, with a little bit of a 'tune-up' against an up and comer hoping to make his name..."

 

"And make a paycheck for the week." interrupts King.

 

"...in Olaf Andersen."

 

With the bell rung, Landon finally begins to skin off his long ring jacket after another warm wave to the crowd. Which is all the opening Olaf Andersen needs, as he rushes across the ring... and comes to a screeching halt as Landon catches him out of the corner of his eye, wagging a condescending finger at his opponent for his attempt at a cheapshot. Olaf, who has surely expected to be attacked when Landon turned around, stands dumbly for a moment at the fact that he's still standing, before referee Sexton Hardcastle moves him back.

 

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

 

Finally we're ready to go, with a collar and elbow tie-up in the centre of the ring. Maddix quickly grabs a headlock on the novice and sweeps him to the mat with a takedown, pinning Olaf's shoulders...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

...for just a moment, Olaf shooting his right arm up. Quickly Olaf climbs back up but Maddix hangs onto the headlock, sweeping from the hip with another side headlock takeover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

...but again he gets just a one count. This time Olaf uses his legs to drag Maddix into a headscissors. Landon, not the finest technically, looks for an escape for a couple of seconds, before finally finding it in the form of a quick nip-up. Rather than follow up on his move though, Landon prefers instead to bow in reverance to his impressive show of athleticism.

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Hey, Maddix has finally found the one wrestler in the world he can actually go on the mat with." notes King. "Shame it's Olaf Andersen, but beggars can't be choosers I suppose."

 

Olaf doesn't look half as impressed as he gets to his feet, walking up to the World Champion and SHOVING him in the chest! The expected sitcom 'whoooooo' that accompanies this sort of shove doesn't happen, because we're in Peru and they don't get American sitcoms. Lucky beggars. Nonetheless, the shove deeply offends Landon as he purses his lips, adjusting his elbowpad as he tries to keep his cool. He doesn't quite manage it though.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

A knifedge chop rocks the Swede back a couple of steps!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

And a second, same result!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Make it three and now Olaf is reeling. Quickly Landon grabs Andersen by the wrist and sends him off into the ropes, looking to catch him on the rebound with a simple forearm shot. However, Olaf has other ideas and ducks underneath the forearm, carrying on into the opposite ropes and this time ducking underneath Landon's follow-up attempt at an elbow. Looking a little surprised at being given the run-around, Maddix wheels around just in time to see Olaf coming at him, springing off the middle rope and twisting around with a big dropkick!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Alright!" cheers King, to his own surprise. "This is what I've been reduced to, routing for enhancement talent."

 

"King, you don't have to route for someone just because they're competing against Landon."

 

"...C'MON OLAF!"

 

The crowd all seem as stunned as Landon is, as he begins to dust himself off, just as Olaf hits the ropes. Landon gets to his feet just in time for Olaf to return, ducking his head early to pre-empt the Swede's next attack. He doesn't expect Olaf to go up and over, looking for a Sunset Flip...

 

 

 

...BLOCKED! Maddix manages to slap down on Olaf's hands, swatting them off his thighs and freeing himself to jump up with a twist for a double stomp...

 

 

...chained into the back senton!!

 

"Nice combination from the World Champion."

 

Relieved, Landon leans back and hooks a leg...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

No!

 

"That flurry from Andersen might just have woken Landon up to the fact he's in a match here." Mak predicts.

 

Landon pulls Olaf up off the canvas and pops him with a quick forearm...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and follows up with a chop!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

And a second, leaving Olaf stunned in the centre of the ring. With a fancy little hop, Landon then hits the ropes and comes soaring back with a big flying forearm!

 

"ARRIBA!"

 

Down goes Olaf and up comes Maddix, vaulting to the middle rope and crushing the Swede with a Quebrada!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"I hate it when he shows off." grumbles King.

 

Encouraging Olaf up to his feet, Landon clearly isn't done with his offensive flurry just yet, waiting for Andersen to reach his knees on his way back up before firing off a hard, straight kick to the chest! The air rushes out of Olaf's chest and he goes rolling back into a corner, breathing with a grimace as Landon follows after him. Pulling Olaf up in the corner, an irish whip sends him into the opposite turnbuckles, Maddix following in with a big diving forearm in the corner once Olaf settles. Olaf crumbles to the canvas like a piece of poorly made Swedish furniture and the end seems nigh, as the World Champion positions himself over Olaf's back, pulling the head back and applying the LAND OF NOD!

 

"Save the meatball gags for another week King, I think this one is over."

 

 

 

*TAPTAPTAP!*

 

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Maddix releases the submission and almost looks embarrassed to celebrate, shrugging his shoulders as he's reunited with his title belt.

 

"Your winner of the match... the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, LANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MMMAAAAADDIIIIIIXXXXXX!!"

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Well, Landon with a nice littl..."

 

 

 

"When I was back in seminary school..."

 

Everyone sits up and takes notice when Jim Morrison’s voice rings out over the PA system.

 

"…there was a person there who put forth the proposition

That you can petition the Lord with prayer.

 

Petition the Lord with prayer?

 

Petition the Lord with prayer?

 

YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER!"

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

The opening riff of ‘Kashmir’ by Led Zeppelin rings out as blue pyro erupts from the soundstage, heralding the arrival of one Mister Thomas Flesher! The SWF’s Commissioner struts down the ramp in full business mode and business attire, as Megan joins her man in the ring, neither looking like they were really expecting to be graced with Flesher's presence here tonight.

 

"Well, this segment certainly took a turn for the better all of a sudden!" smiles King, not shy about his bias for his good buddy and boss.

 

Tom enters the ring and calls for a microphone, signalling for Landon to 'relax' with a re-assuring smile, which would be re-assuring were it coming from anyone but Tom Flesher. The SWF Commissioner takes the mic and takes centre stage, leaving Landon and Megan behind him in nervous consultation. Maybe they needn't bother, as Tom turns to the duo and waves a sweeping hand in their direction as if they were a fantasticly crafted china hutch on The Price Is Right.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the SWF World Champion... Landon Maddix!"

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Yeah, give it up for Landon!" Tom encourages, prompting Landon to kinda wave awkwardly. "Landon Maddix everybody! A great effort here tonight. I think all of you fans here in Sac... uh, Sacsa... all of you great fans, right in Peru(!), will agree that this kid is looking impressive now that he's got his third World Championship under his belt."

 

"What did this guy do with the real Tom Flesher?" muses Mak.

 

"Good question." co-muses King.

 

Landon looks just the slightest bit unnerved by all of this attention and by who it's coming from. But never a man to shy away from an ego-stroking, he's happy to raise the World Title to the crowd to confirm Tom's speech.

 

"And I've got to say also, it's good to see all these 'Viva La Cucaracha' t-shirts in the audience tonight!"

 

"Ah, there we go." Mak sighs in relief. "It is Tom. I can tell by the dollar signs in his eyes."

 

"But Landon," says Tom, suddenly getting serious as he turns to Landon, "your reign as World Heavyweight Champion is just beginning. It's going to get a lot tougher, as I'm sure you're aware. Believe me, there's a queue a mile long outside my office week in and week out... well, it's only been two weeks... but, you get the point. Everybody wants a shot at you and your World Title. Everybody wants to be top dog. I wouldn't have it any other way. See, the moment you unbuckled that belt and pulled it down from the roof of the Acer Arena, you instantly went from being the hunter to the hunted. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you, whenever 'La Cucaracha Hunting Season' is declared, there's always plenty of wronged superstars in that locker room dusting off the pitchforks and the harpoons and slapping together a packed lunch, ready to go to work. Heck, once upon a time, I would have been heading the pack."

 

Maddix flashes a cheeky smile at the man he 'retired' at Genesis IV. Sure, he came back. But it's wrestling. Nobody really retires, you takes what you can gets.

 

"But times have changed. And now it's my job to organise that pack. Like I say, there's plenty of guys back there who need no excuse other than your mere presence to want a shot at you. Now you're World Champion, every grudge, every wrong-doing, every screwjob and every lowblow you've ever thrown... and lord knows there's been plenty of them... gets dredged up."

 

Listening a little more intently now, Landon leans in, waiting for the point to all this talk.

 

"Last week, you said you planned on finding a new challenger when you got to Peru. Well, look no further. As SWF Commisioner I've gone through all the requests, the demands, the e-mails, the pages, the faxes, the..."

 

Tom pauses as Landon mouths the important question, 'you still own a fax machine!?'

 

"...I've been through every title petition. And I've chosen your opponent for 13th Hour. A man I'm sure you're familiar with. So, without any further ado, let me announce that at SWF 13th Hour, it'll be Landon Maddix taki..."

 

"WOAHWOAHwoahwoahwoah!"

 

To say that Flesher is surprised that his microphone has been snatched from under his nose would be an understatement. Landon holds up a hand, trying to placate the Commish, who snorts at the World Champion.

 

"Just a second here Tom, I hate to interrupt but... you haven't told us about any 13th Hour plans." Landon protests with a motion towards Megan, as Tom just replies with a frustrated 'SO!?'. "Last we heard, you were taking our suggestions 'under consideration', which I assume meant you were taking our plans under consideration, not 'hey Allison, go make me a sandwich while I draw a name out of a hat for Maddix to wrestle, wouldya'."

 

Tom marches across the ring and asks for another microphone.

 

"Your plans were taken under consideration. But..."

 

"Of course! Like a kid on a sleepover at Michael Jackson's house, I should have known there was a BUTT coming!" despairs Landon, perhaps forgetting Michael Jackson references are at least a year out of date. "Look, I know you've got a Pay Per View to sell here and I'm sure you think you've got the winning formula Tom. Far be it from me to question your authority... after all, we all know what happened to the last guy who did that. But you see, I'm the World Champion now. Which means myself and Megan should have some sort of say in the direction of my career."

 

"You do."

 

"Some sort of say in my merchandise deals, which I might add are going pretty well for ALL concerned."

 

"Yes."

 

"And some sort of say in my challengers?"

 

"Well, within reason..."

 

"Okay, so here's my reason, let's see what you think." Maddix interjects, to a roll from the eyes from Tom. He wasn't expecting a public business meeting when he came out. "See, reading between the lines, you've lined up somebody for me to face at 13th Hour who you can sell. Somebody who people are going to want to see get his hands on La Cucaracha, right? Somebody with a grudge? That's fine. But, to be honest, I don't think what you've got planned is going to work. Not for me."

 

"And why is that?" snaps Tom impatiently.

 

"Come on Taamo, you really thinking you're going to promote 13th Hour with Maddix-Clark 8? Or Maddix-Dangerous 17: The Rubber Match? Don't get me wrong, I'm as happy to fight guys like Wildchild as they are to fight me. Time and time and time again. But, let's face it, I've been here for close to four years now and this is the third time I've been the World Champion. I need a new challenge. Somebody I haven't fought every month for the past three and a half, four years. Somebody who hasn't had countless shots at the World Title. Somebody new. Somebody... somebody fresh. I can virtually guarantee, whoever you had in mind isn't new, isn't fresh, isn't going to present me with a new challenge."

 

Flesher doesn't answer.

 

"Thought not."

 

"Well, that's all well and good Landon." Flesher replies with a forced smile. "But until that person who fits your criteria comes along, there's not a whole lot I can do. I can't really create someone out of thin air now, can I? So..."

 

Suddenly, out go the lights.

 

 

 

And after a few seconds, 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 and the arrival of ZYON, to the surprise of the crowd.

 

"What!?"

 

"Zyon?" sneers King. "This a joke, right?"

 

"Doesn't look like it King."

 

"Oh, that'd explain why I'm not laughing then. Although, if Zyon is out here to volunteer himself for 13th Hour, that might change."

 

As The Unique Youth enters the ring Landon backs off, taking no chances. Zyon locks eyes with Tom Flesher for a second or two, a tense second or two until the SWF Commissioner hands Zyon the microphone he was waiting for.

 

"You know what, I'm all ready to bury Zyon here, but now he's got the microphone I guess I'll let him bury himself."

 

"Landon Maddix..."

 

Zyon's eyes hover towards the SWF World Championship, as Tom just watches on wondering what the hell has gone wrong.

 

"You know as well as I do, I've been screwed time and time again by your buddy Toxxic."

 

"What he got up to in his own time was his business." Landon hastily points out, stopping Zyon in his tracks and earning some cheap laughs from the fans.

 

"Toxxic aside, I think it's about time I was given a shot at the World Title. A fair shot at the World Title, that is. I'm just the guy you just described. We've got no history and I've got no chances around here. So... you want a new challenge? Then look no further."

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

The fans certainly seem pleased with that...

 

 

 

...but Tom Flesher doesn't, as he takes the microphone back from Zyon, wagging his finger.

 

"I'm sorry but... I don't think that's gonna work."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Now now, nothing personal Zyon. I just don't think the Board would go for it."

 

"Well, then the 'Board' have got a problem." Landon suddenly chimes in, leaving Tom to curse the fact the SWF budget stretches to more than one microphone. "You see, these people seem to like the idea. As far as I can recall, I issued a challenge just a second ago. And, I think I can speak for Zyon when I say that he accepts. So, I think that's what we call... a DEAL!"

 

And with that, Landon drops the microphone and SHAKES ZYON'S HAND!

 

"Okay... this is a joke, right!?"

 

"I don't think so King."

 

For a moment, Flesher fumes as Zyon and Landon's handshake continues on, the two men exchanging a few words with seemingly good natured hostility. As the handshake breaks though, Tom's expression changes. And he actually manages to muster a smile. Which again seems to take Landon off-guard a little.

 

"Alright... Zyon versus Landon Maddix, 13th Hour? So be it."

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"I think we can make this work. However..." Tom hastens to add, before anyone gets too contented. "...I feel compelled to remind you two, a week is a long time in professional wrestling. And, 13th Hour is six of those long weeks away. So, just bear in mind... a LOT can change between now and May 30th. See ya both next week."

 

Flesher drops his microphone and leaves the ring, muttering something under his breath about "ungrateful kids" as he stomps off down the aisle towards the back. Both Landon and Zyon seem a little 'troubled' by those words as he leaves, but pretty soon they're more troubled by the other, staring at the other. Each other.

 

"Well, that's certainly an unexpected development." admits Mak, as the crack SWF production staff find Tom's CD and play "Kashmir" again over the scene. "Landon Maddix to defend his SWF World Championship against Zyon at 13th Hour!"

 

"Do you think they'll be able to find a replacement for me by then?"

 

"Hopefully. Main event, NEXT!"

[chirs3 0]

Jimmy vs. Danny - DNS